god is not an excuse for hatred

I love how politicians these days use God and Catholicism as an excuse to do whatever they want
like nuh uh sweaty,,,,,, if Jesus was here rn he’d be smacking the shit outta y'all bc hatred and discrimination and oppressing the poor is the e.x.a.c.t opposite of what he preached
hmmmmmmm maybe,,, politicians should??? actually?? read the Bible?!?!?!!?!!

anonymous asked:

Doesn't Christianity say that homosexuality is wrong?

No, it doesn’t. That one Bible verse everyone quotes on the matter has been rewritten and reinterpreted so many times that its original meaning is almost lost. People just use it as an excuse for their own bigotry.

What Christianity does actually teach is loving people unconditionally - no hatred, no judgement. Homophobia is literally the antithesis of that.

And even if it was a sin to be gay, the Bible also teaches us that judgement of sinners is God’s job, not ours, so we should be kind and loving to everyone regardless (again, see above).

The true Christian faith does not teach that homosexuality is wrong. The people who say otherwise are the same kind of people Jesus Himself opposed during His time on Earth - pseudo-Christians who only practiced the faith on a surface level as a guise to justify their own superiority and self-interests (or self disinterests, in the case of homophobia).

Meadowflowers and Misunderstandings

This is technically part of the Mini Ficlets I’m doing on that monster quote but, well, it turned out to be not very mini, and I liked it to the point I was Like nah this needs to be its own thing.

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Warnings: angst, but not to much (a little self hatred regarding his legs from Ivar)

Tagging: @really-not-a-people-person @panda-reads-stuff @thequeen-ofnerds @im-smad

Sigurd was flirting with you. Again. And once again you had to try to smile as you accepted the 56th bouquet of thrice-damned meadow flowers the blond Ragnarsson had given you. You quickly found some terrible excuse to leave his company and fled to the forest.

You rested your back against your favourite oak tree, and let out a deep sigh.

“By the gods,” you muttered to yourself, “He doesn’t give up!”

“No, he doesn’t.”

You jumped up with a half scream, and whirled round to find the source of the voice. It was Ubbe, Sigurd’s elder brother.

“If you need Sigurd to stop, I can tell him, if you’d like.” He said, shrugging.

You stared at him blankly for a while, then realised you should probably reply.

“I wouldn’t want to anger him like that.” You replied, looking down. Offend a prince? You didn’t bloody think so.

Ubbe laughed.

“Seriously, Y/N. If you feel harassed by my brother, he needs to stop. He also needs to learn that wooing a maiden does not consist of trying to kill her via hayfever.”

At that exact moment, you sneezed. When you had recovered, you looked up again at Ubbe to see his eyebrow cocked in a manner that clearly said, ‘That’s what I thought’.

You sighed again. Ubbe was right.

“I’d be eternally in your debt, Ubbe,” you laughed, and the prince nodded with a smile. “By the way, Have you seen Ivar anywhere? We’d agreed to meet today.”

Ubbe raised his eyebrow again, this time in surprise. You blushed.

“Ivar? No, I haven’t seen him. I’ll tell you if I do though.”

“Thank you Ubbe.”

“Any time, Y/N.”


Incidentally, Ivar had been at the other end of the street where Sigurd had given you flowers. And, incidentally, Ubbe knew exactly where he was now, which was Floki’s boatyard. Ubbe approached his crippled brother, who sat aggressively volleying stones into the water.

Ivar heard the crunch of the stones, and looked up at his brother. His eyes were mildly swollen, and his jaw tight, as though not that long ago the Ragnarsson had had a fit of angry tears.

“It’s a fitting punishment for a monster. To want something so much – to hold it in your arms – and know beyond a doubt you will never deserve it. And that your brother does.” Ivar muttered darkly, running his thumb over the next pebble that was to find itself on the lakebed.

Originally posted by whenimaunicorn

“You’re a damned fool, Ivar,” Ubbe said, calmly. “She’s just accepted my offer of getting Sigurd to stop bothering her. And the very next thing she did was ask for you. You’re meant to be seeing her, I believe?”

“Oh, what’s the point, brother? She has no interest in me. I’m cripple, an undesirable dead weight, a useless, pathetic, twisted-“

“Shut your whining mouth, Ivar,” Ubbe groaned. “The girl likes you. Man up and stop all this moaning and dramatics.”

Before Ivar could reply however, a voice sounded from the other end of the beach.

“IVAR RAGNARSSON!” you yelled, stomping over to the pair with some vehemence. When you reached them, you jabbed a finger at Ivar.

“You! You’ve been avoiding me all day, I know it. You promised me that archery lesson, Ivar. Since when do you go back on your promises, huh?” Ivar opened his mouth to respond, but he couldn’t get a word out as you whirled around and pointed the accusing digit at Ubbe.

“And you! ‘I haven’t seen Ivar’ my arse! Odin’s beard, you are the most difficult and ridiculous troop of men I’ve ever met! Hvitserk’s the most sensible of you all, and even he’s a secretive swine sometimes! What’s going on? And I warn you, if I don’t get a straight answer, I’m going to give tanning your hides a damn good shot.”

The brothers looked at each other in mild shock. They knew you could hold your own, but they had no idea that you could chastise them like that; and they certainly didn’t think they’d listen.

Ubbe spoke up, much to the panic of Ivar.

“Ivar is convinced he’s a pathetic, twisted monster you’ll never love, because you’re infatuated with Sigurd.” He said blankly, folding his arms. Ivar’s face was ashen.

“You’re having me on,” you muttered, a frown knitting your brow.

“I’m not. Want to hear his exact words?”

Ivar finally joined the conversation.

“No, she does not!” he yelped, trying to surreptitiously break Ubbe’s foot.

You looked between their faces, one trying to hide a smirk, one pallid and clearly wishing for a large hole to appear beneath him; to allow for death or escape, you were uncertain.

You burst out laughing.

“You- You think that – that -I’m – infat- infatuated with Sigurd?” you choked out, unable to contain the breath-stealing, racking laughs that had erupted from your stomach. You slowly collapsed onto the gravelly shore, tears streaming down your face. After about a minute of this, you had calmed down enough to look Ivar dead in the eyes.

“Who are you, and what have you done with Ivar? As far as I know, he’s at least mildly intelligent, and would be fully aware that if I’m interested in anyone it’s not some lad who continually aggravates my hayfever.” You smirk, but your face then turns serious.

“He would also realise archery isn’t the only thing I see him for.”

Ivar swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously.

“I think I should be going.” Mumbled Ubbe, backing away until he was at a distance at which running away would not look ridiculous.

“Trust me,” Ivar muttered, “He wouldn’t have figured it out, whatever it is exactly.” His steel eyes refused to meet yours, uncertainty radiating from Ivar like heat from the sun.

“Then maybe,” you whispered, your own nerves starting to increase your heartrate tenfold, “He needs to be told.”

You started to lean forward, your face toward Ivar’s. You had wanted to do this for so long – oh, so long; you remembered when you first met, an embarrassing affair; at one of the gatherings in the great hall you had been making your way to a friend when you found yourself on the floor, lying on top of the crippled prince, having tripped over his form half hidden in the throng. You had expected him to be furious, but he just laughed and asked your name. After that you began spending more time with him, and his brothers. You went from intrigued to admiring to loving within a matter of months. And now you were able to show him.

Your lips met Ivar’s softly, little more than a whisper of connection, testing the waters; you were still unsure if he felt the same, or if Ubbe was just teasing.

Originally posted by whenimaunicorn

You were answered by a warm, calloused hand came up to your face, pulling you in closer, adding pressure to the kiss, which became ever warmer. You felt wetness on your face, and pulled away, worried.

Ivar was crying.

“Ivar…” you said softly, using your thumb to wipe away a tear. “Ivar… what’s wrong?”

His eyes were full of pain as he whispered, “Me. I’m wrong, Y/N. Look at me. Why would you want this?”

He still didn’t get it, did he?

You placed a hand softly on his legs.

“Because regardless of these, or perhaps, because of them, you are who you are,” you smiled softly, moving your hand up to his chest.

“I want you for what’s in here, Ivar,” you muttered, moving your hand once more to cup his face, and gently tapped his temple.

“And for what’s in here. I don’t think you understand how beautiful you are, Ivar Lothbrok, how beautiful you are to me.”

Ivar’s tears had stopped, and instead love, pure, unbridled, grateful love filled his eyes, and he pulled himself into you, your heads resting in the crook of the other’s neck.

You sat on the shore like that for some time, in each other’s arms, and when you headed back into Kattegat, you saw Ubbe and Sigurd talking down a side street, a bouquet of meadow flowers lying discarded on the ground.

anonymous asked:

Are you a Christian? Bc if you are, and you are Bi, I wanted to know how you felt about that in accordance with the bible? Ive struggled with being bi because I feel like every Christian around me says that its wrong.

To be sincerely honest with you, I was originally not going to answer this ask publicly and was going to answer privately with a request to speak through messaging. But then I realized that there’s probably somebody out here who needs to hear this and needs support so here I am, posting this publicly with a thought-out response.

If you’re not Christian and anti-Christian, or if you’re Christian and anti-gay, I will delete any homophobic/anti-Christian replies and will instantly block you and report any comments added to any reblog. I support safe spaces. If you can’t find the decency and civility to ignore this post meant to support another person going through the same thing as I currently am, then kindly fuck off. Hatred is not acceptable.

Yes, I am a Christian. I’m a Pentecostal Protestant and I’m practicing so I’m not one of those “I’m Christian but non-religious” people. I do believe in God, I do believe in the Scripture. But more than that, I believe that God is our Judge. I immediately block out any Christian that screeches homophobic lectures and takes the Scripture out of context to promote their own hatred. God told us to love our neighbors, to be kind to others, to love others. He said that only He could Judge our actions, therefore, anyone that tells you that you will go to Hell for being gay, respond with “Only God decides who goes to Hell and you aren’t Him” and walk away. Too many “Christians” use their religion to make themselves holier than thou which isn’t right. Christianity isn’t about religion and condemning everyone who doesn’t follow the religion to a T to Hell. It’s about faith. It’s about your personal relationship with God and what He means to you. That’s why I don’t say I’m religious but rather faithful.

Look, I’m not going to make myself up to be this super knowledged person who’s read the Bible inside out and can quote any verse on the spot. I’ve really only read Exodus and Ruth in its entirety possibly once each time and I’ve read small portions of books in the Bible. But I do know one thing: God is Love and He made us in His image. A lot of things in the Bible are sins, divorce, murder, lying, greed, so many other things that are somehow more excuseable and forgiveable than “choosing” to be gay. If He can forgive us for committing all of those sins, then He can forgive us for being bi. He knows what’s in our hearts and that’s all that matters. This website, hoperemains is great to check out as it basically explains how God doesn’t hate you for questioning your sexuality and accurately and correctly uses the Bible to support that.

I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful on the facts section of how we’re not disobeying God but my best advice for you and how to handle those supposed Christians that only preach hatred is just by blocking them out. It’s hard, it’s never going to be easy but if you don’t want to fight, I say just being polite and ignoring them is the best option. Just remember that they’re not the ones who will be there on Judgment Day, only you and God. So my suggestion is just to smile and block them out and just try your best to be a good person and faithful to God and His preachings of love and acceptance and hope.

Honestly, if you ever need to talk more about it, you’re more than welcome to drop into my messages or again into my inbox and I can try to help as much as I possibly can with anything you’re going through. And this goes out to anyone else who’s struggling with balancing their faith and their sexuality. Hatred and condemnation aren’t the true messages of God, it’s hope and love.

Hope this helped!

anonymous asked:

It looks like we'll have to agree to disagree. Yes v did all those things and that's not okay but they are still not as bad as what rika did. Mental illness is also not an excuse. Yes it makes it understandable as to why she did what she did but it doesn't excuse her actions. And for the last time rika being a girl had NOTHING TO DO WITH ME HATING HER. If v and rika's roles were reversed I would've hated him! I'm not that shallow to hate someone because of the genitals (I'm bi for gods sake)

Sexuality has nothing to do with it, its that just by human nature popular females tend to get hated on. Rika is not fandom popular but she was adored by all the boys popular which, unfortunately, is just a natural trigger of hatred for people due to jealousy. For example, its a common theme in High School centered movies.

But yes, lets do that and call it a day.

im so emotional about better call saul

ive never been so attached and invested in a tv show and the only one that comes close is brba

i relate to jimmy so much that it pains me and i really feel so strongly whenever hes going through something and thats so rare for me and i cherish it a lot. i relate to jimmy and i nEver relate to anyone and its because theyve shown that he is kind of the worst. but hes still human. but that doesnt excuse anything.

saul goodman is the persona and manifestation of all the self hatred jimmy feels, getting rid of all the weakness and self pity and becoming something BARELY HUMAN in its extravagance …and tackiness… and thats literally the Dream and it adds so much to saul because it makes him even more awful and shocking BECAUSE it is the result of what jimmy used to be and i love that oh my god

and also smth thats important is theyve shown jimmy as doing the wrong thing, doing wrong things, doing things that hurt others, but they still show him as a person with good intentions and a kind heart but WITHOUT excusing him and letting him off, these actions have consequences. and i can really feel that, especially because of the place im in rn ( EG KEEP FUCKING UP AND FINDING IT HARD TO GIVE MYSELF SYMPATHY)

i used to be kind of pissed that they were trying to fob off sauls character by giving him a reason to be so immoral by making him a saint and someone we can feel bad for all the time and its liiike i didnt want that because saul was so interesting and sleazy (and uhhh hot) so i was worried about them killing his character with weepy backstory BUT THEY DIDNT THEY DID SO GOOD THHEY better not fck this up in later seasons but even if they do i will still cling to this series and saul for my life. ride or die bitch

I’ve just the rum for company (1/1)

Mostly inspired by the Neverland Renaissance 2.0 prompt:

Our heroes are on their way home, now that Henry’s safe. Emma goes looking for Killian and she almost gives in to their attraction and desire for each other, but Killian stops her because he knows she’s not ready for “them”

With extra Killian “I’m not good enough” Jones self-hatred for good measure.

WC: ~2.5k

A/N: I can no longer deprive myself of Neverland angst, hence this drabble.  ‘Tis my first time writing for OUAT or CS, un-beta-ed, I wrote this while hangry, other excuses for sub-par writing here (oh god why don’t I ever just stick with past tense), etc.  It works as a one-shot (I think) but my imagination might convince me to continue?

It doesn’t mean to come out as more than a breath of relief, but ends up sounding more like a disappointed sigh instead.

“Emma?” Snow asks hesitantly, “Is something wrong?”

They were standing at the docks, having just arrived from Neverland moments ago, and it was a hectic but joyous reunion.  For most of them, anyway.

“What?  No, of course not,” Emma replies immediately.  Snow blinks a few times, not expecting the sudden denial.  Emma winces internally but puts on a smile, hoping to prevent any further digging.

“It’s perfectly fine if you’re not feeling okay, Emma.”  Snow gives her an encouraging nod and a disconcertingly wide smile.  “A lot has happened.”

Things are far from fine, Emma thought to herself.  Not only was Henry probably suffering from some serious psychological trauma after trying to sacrifice himself to his nefarious great-grandfather, but his presumed-to-be-deceased father was back from the dead.  And while Emma was beyond relieved to know he was alright, his confession in the Echo Caves to never stop fighting for her certainly threw her for a loop.  He’d had many a chance to fight for her in the past, but he hadn’t come back until she (accidentally) found him.  Even then, he’d rather run away and give up on her yet again than face his father.  And speaking of confessions-

Whoa, nope, you stop right there, Emma chastised herself silently.  She had enough on her mind to even ponder the importance of everything else revealed to her and by her in those caves.

Keep reading

Richard Spencer is an atheist but describes himself as a “Cultural Christian” so let me tell you what that means because there are a lot of white folk who fit the title.

A “cultural Christian” is someone who goes to Church on Sunday and proclaims they love Jesus and God for the sole purpose of keeping up appearances despite whether or not they actually believe in God. Donald Trump is such, as well as many other white supremacists. This is so that they can justify their hatred, misogyny, racism, homophobia, islamophobia and anti-semitism as a defense of their faith. 

The reality, however, is that no actual Christian (or person who has read the Bible and believed it) would ever hold these hateful views, much less use God as an excuse for their callous and hostile behavior. Most white Americans who call themselves Christians really could not be further from it. Muslims are more christian than they.

So when I see pictures of Trump in Church, Richard Spencer talking about Christian morals with Charles Barkley, or hear any of these heathens talk about praying, it angers me and offends me as a Christian. These people are as fake as they are hateful, and I sincerely pray for them. 

I pray for Donald Trump, Richard Spencer, Mike Pence, Stephen Bannon, Betsy DeVos, etc. because their hearts are so hardened by their pride and greed that they are willing to destroy the lives of millions out of self interest.

They will seize their chance.

I have written before about my upbringing within young-earth-creationist Christian fundamentalism – how deeply it hurt me and in what ways I have and have not healed. As the year 2015 draws to a dreary close, I remember what I was taught as a young “soldier of the Lord,” and I am afraid.

This has not been a good year, for me or for the world. I have been in ceaseless pain everywhere in my head and my neck for seven months and no doctor can rescue me. The world is drowning, the innocent washing up dead by the thousands attempting to escape. There is everywhere hate and fear and desperation. I cry often for myself, because I cannot escape the burning in my spine, nor the sense that I will never be well again. I cry often for the world, fast being sucked under the surface by racism and fascism and imperialism and oligarchy. I cry for my country, where politicians openly demand an inquisition of faith and are cheered on by gathered masses. I cry for my neighbors from another country, who have good cause to fear for their safety every time the word “terrorism” is heard on the news. There is always another reason to cry.

My dear one, my best friend, would remind me that not all is amiss in the world. Polio, the disease that crippled my grandmother, has been virtually eradicated from the face of the earth. The bravery of those who have stood up for queerness in all its forms continues to reshape laws and attitudes everywhere with tolerance and compassion. Black Lives Matter has not only survived the first moments of a would-be movement but flourished. I fell in love with someone new this year, someone radiant and wondrous, and that relationship prospers alongside my existing loves. My friends have always been there for me in my present era of suffering. Not everything is terrible.

My heart nonetheless wears thin when I hear of the ravages of ISIS and their subordinate Boko Haram, and of their desire to wage a holy war with the west. This is not only because I know they have already hurt and killed so many – mostly Muslims themselves, who beg reprieve of western nations and are spited – but because I know that there are within the west, within America especially, Christians who want the very same war. I know because I was educated to be one of them. I know how they think. I know what they want. I know that they sincerely believe that the end of times is at hand, and hence Satan is rallying for one final attempt to destroy Christianity. I know that they are utterly convinced that they cannot lose, for theirs is the cause of the Lord, and that – that is the most terrible thing that an embittered sect with a stockpile of weapons and a grudge against the very concept of secular government could ever believe. We are one very small step short of the endless arsons and broken windows and guns draped in the Confederate flag becoming the Christian ISIS.

From the earliest moments of my education, I knew that the Christians, that is to say, the True Christians, my culture within the American culture, final bastion against the deceits of Satan, were preparing for war. I was told in the first grade to be prepared to be tortured and martyred for my faith, because every True Christian might be called upon to fulfill this honor before the moment of Rapture. I learned many songs about marching in the army of the Lord.

I eventually escaped the grip of this isolated world, and have the psychiatric breakdowns to prove it, but fundamentalist far-right Christianity defined my childhood and hence is “my culture” in a way nothing else could ever be. I can slip in among them, this culture that I repudiate, and listen to them fume about the wickedness of the secular world filled with Muslims and Hindus and atheists and false Christians worshipping at the throne of Satan. They will spew sexism and racism and homophobia and assume that I agree with them – expecting me to consent to the sexism even as a woman, but completely unaware that I am bisexual or that one of my loving partners is anything but white. My mother once told me that Liberty University’s renowned hatred for gay people was no reason to refuse to apply for a job there. That was the night she found out I was not straight. It did not go well. She blamed the perverse influence of my new friends at a not-Christian-enough college, unaware that I had realized this about myself halfway through high school, and cowered tearfully before what I expected to be a wroth and vengeful god.

I have heard of the need to forcefully avert the dwindling of the white race. I have heard of the “one bullet cure” for homosexuality. I have heard of the need to rescue the office of the presidency and restore America to a Christian state. I have heard of the righteousness of being prepared to protect Christendom  with armed resistance when the present secular government springs its fatal trap. I have heard of the eschatological obsession over Jerusalem and the ever-nearer apocalypse. I have heard, in short, of extremists preparing for war.

I am for many years now an atheist, but more importantly a secular humanist, of the sort my theology teacher specifically warned me were vile agents of Satan. My doctrine is peace and my dogma is the celebration of the human spirit. When I first left the faith I was of course angry and hurt, and it took a few years to burn through my rage at the system that had tried to hold me in subservience to patriarchy and white supremacy disguised as “wholesome values.” I am still angry, and very bitter, but now I can see clearly from the outside – and see what others, Christian or otherwise, truly believe. My personal belief as a non-theist is that Islam as a philosophy has problems, and I believe the very same about Christianity; in fact I believe they have largely the same problems, expressed in slightly different ways. My theology teachers in high school went to great lengths to “prove” that Christians and Muslims do not worship the same god and have nothing in common outside that fateful moment in the camp of Abraham. They loathed the idea of being considered anything like a Muslim in the utmost. They preached the compassion of conversion but were openly accepting of the notion that almost every single one of the billion Muslims upon the earth would end up burning in hell for ever and ever and ever because of their false god and their false prophet and their false book.

The books – the Bible and the Quran – are often mistaken by outsiders to the faiths as the cause of hatred, oppression, and extremism. They are not the cause: they are the excuse. Almost any opinion can be justified by emphasizing some part of these long, complex texts and ignoring others. I know all too well how Christian fundamentalists ignore that there is “neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female” or that “it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God.” I know how they revel in the fantasies of the blood of everyone but the True Christians running as deep as a horse is tall. They gleefully read entire shelves of end-times torture porn – I know because I did so, and so did most of my peers. Liberty University proudly names entire buildings after the authors of these gory fantasies.

The Bible is a historically priceless work of literature assembled over centuries by many authors and editors. The vast majority of people who have been exposed to it are not shooting up women’s health clinics or firebombing mosques. The same is true of the Quran; in fact I myself sat down and read a large portion of it when I was perhaps sixteen. I did not feel encouraged in the least to become a terrorist. These books do not make people violent. They are held up by those who are looking for a moral justification of their desire to control or eliminate others, literally held up before crowds being incited to acts of hatred. Few Christian fundamentalists have actually read the Bible in its entirety, and fewer still have studied the broader historical context of the Bible’s composition and distribution. I did both, and stopped being a fundamentalist. The books are not the cause of the problem. The religions are not intrinsically violent and doomed to conflict. Everything begins and ends with human hearts.

Languishing at home, feeling every nerve fraying and rotting and becoming pain, I have all the unhappy time upon the earth to watch and listen, for there is little else I can do. When I see that vile man, Trump, the least “Christian” person imaginable, go before a jubilant crowd and promise to ban Muslims from the borders, I see the true face of Satan. When Christians loudly proclaim that the time has come to kill them all, I hear the shards of Kristallnacht. When I read that ISIS wants a holy war to induce the apocalypse, I know beyond all doubt that there are people here who want the very same thing. If we, as a country, as a culture, do not embrace peace, embrace the refugees, embrace integration, the fascist politicians will come to power by offering the extremists war, offering them oppression, offering them religious-racial segregation – and they will seize their chance.

America, you have been fucking warned.

anonymous asked:

How do you feel about the fact that Elliot Rodgers wrote a 104 page manifesto describing his hatred and insanity beginning at the age of 9, even going as far as to say he is no longer part of the human race and instead is a living god. Yet you ignored all this and jumped straight into the MRA excuse, saying it was because of them that he committed these murders, and anyone who even remotely shares their views is as bad as he is. Care to explain?

Yeah sure. Afterward you can crawl back down into your stupid internet club for boring dorks who hate girls.

I didn’t say the first part. Here’s what I said:

“Now 10 more people are dead at the hands of an MRA dogma-spouting hate-fueled narcissist psychopath. Nothing will change.”

“It makes me even more cyncial. It makes me believe that yes, everyone who even somewhat subscribes to MRA shit is probably a sociopath.”

I didn’t say that it’s “because of MRA dogma” that he murdered those people, but I do firmly believe that wallowing around in forums where everyone’s validating everyone else’s violent fantasies and disgusting hatred of women 24/7 has an obvious and sincere impact on anyone who’s already disturbed. I think it also warps people who aren’t violent, indoctrinating them into horrible attitudes toward women that likely won’t result in a spree killing. I don’t envy any woman who winds up on a date with someone who, unbeknownst to them, spends his free time posting seething hatred of the entire gender to a crowd of angry frustrated hate-filled entitled fucks who sincerely believe women owe them something.

What are the odds that you aren’t actually a crazy hateful fuck even though you sincerely spend your free time commiserating with these vile shitheads and think they “have some valid points”? Doing that means I put you in the “probably a sociopath, maybe not but better safe than sorry” bucket. OH NO A GENERALIZATION BASED ON YOUR OBSERVABLE BEHAVIOR.

Here’s the solution: don’t side with the bad guys. If you share Rodgers’ views - and the views he shared with most of the MRA movement - you don’t deserve the benefit of the doubt and your hate-filled bullshit isn’t some benign “alternate opinion”. Take a look at the sheer number of MRA fuckwads sympathizing with him or blaming women for not pity-fucking his loser ass because “this all could’ve been prevented”. There isn’t anything in that pathetic dogma that’s worth defending anyway.

If that’s the team you’re siding with in all of this, I don’t owe you any respect and you don’t want it from someone like me anyway. I’m proud that people use the word “feminist” against me like it’s a smear. I will never give you what it is you want, I will never make you feel like your views are valid or have any place in intelligent discussion or discourse. Period. I don’t have to. I owe you nothing. You owe me nothing. The end.

Let me tell you a story of what happens if I am left alone within walking distance from a bookstore. About a week ago me and my parents were down town they were doing some shopping, I had just tagged along. As we walk closer to the bookstore my parents look at me and they can see that I cannot hide my excitement. They ask me if they should wait for me and I’m like “nah, i’ll catch up with you guys later” and as the fools they are they let me enter the bookstore alone. As I walk in I keep telling myself that “I’m a strong, confident woman and I do not need my parents to control me in a bookstore” but then something very unexpected happened. As the booknerd I am I’m usually very up to date on book releases but somehow I managed to miss that my absolute favorite author has released his new book and I’m standing there like “omg this is not happening right now” and I could not contain my excitement (I’m pretty sure I squealed out loud). So obviously I knew on some level that I had already lost and because universe felt that I was already weak it started showing me all the books I’ve wanted forever. But like out of nowhere I get the sudden self-control to put the other books down and just head for the register. The cashier smiles politely and asks if it’s a present and I’m all like hell yeah from me to me. (I did not say it out loud though)  Feeling quite empowered I walk out of the store and meet up with my parents. Fast forward like two hours and we have all eaten and my parents want to continue their shopping and I feel how the bookstore calls my name so I make a dumb excuse so that I can go that way and my parents who trust me (only god knows why) let me go. As I once again enters the store I have pretty much lost already, I was just trying to keep the cost as low as possible at that point. So I pick up the books I want and then proceed to spend ten minutes just walking around the store, trying to talk some sense into myself. It did not work. I walked up to the register again, this time I was filled with some intense self hatred and regret. It’s the same cashier and she smiles at me and asks me again if it’s a present and I just look at her like what do you think i’m doing? buying them for a friend? you should know the type by now. Look in my eyes, Berta, what do you see?  Anyways as I walk out of there I am filled with both shame and excitement not to mention the hole that appeared in my bank account where my money used to be. And that is the story of how I was totally not going to spend any money but then some things went a little bit wrong. 

avelera  asked:

You know, you just KNOW Thranduil is also in Slytherin and this drives Thorin absolutely wild with rage, having anything in common with that elf, and their intra-house rivalry is the stuff of legends (at least for the dwarves, Thranduil likes to pretend the so-called 'rivalry' is one-sided and beneath him)

Ph my god Thranduil is the divination professor and he is FOREVER BITTER that Thorin was made head of Slytherin house and he probably keeps trying to act like he’s in charge and Thorin is just EXCUSE ME. WHO’S HEAD OF SLYTHERIN? NOT YOU? WOW DID THE STARS TELL YOU THAT DICKWEED?? MAYBE YOU SHOULD CHECK THEM AGAIN

Theirs is an old family feud that they added a personal special kind of hatred to. When they were in school there was civil war in the Slytherin house and for those 7 years the rivalry with Gryffindor was almost forgotten as it split into Slytherin Subhouse Durin and Slytherin Subhouse Greenleaf. Shit was intense.

How to do Christianity wrong 101:

Disguise your anti-abortion harassment behind a prayer:

“Dear God, overwhelm this person with all the bad things they’ve done so they can repent and turn to you,” or “Jesus, please take away all the good things in this person’s life so that they may come to know you.”

Like, seriously? What kind of person prays for bad things to happen to people?

Don’t use my God as an excuse to spew your disgusting hatred.

anonymous asked:

what do you think about cersei's hatred toward tyrion? is it justified? before and after the purple wedding.

Well, it depends. Before the purple wedding, no it’s not. As in, it’s not something that you can excuse because her hatred for Tyrion falls into the same category as the hatred most people have towards Tyrion, aka the fact that he is a dwarf, therefore society (and Cersei with it) just assumes he is malicious, because in the Westerosi frame of mind Tyrion’s malformation is a sign of malevolence and punishment from the Gods. It says, in the books, that Tyrion’s dwarfism is supposed to be the Gods’ punishment for Tywin, for gathering too much power. Also, physical malformation in general, not specifically Tyrion’s case, is seen as the physical reflection of a wicked soul and ill intents. So there’s that factor, certainly, which is unjustifiable on a level of human decency. When it comes to Tyrion’s case specifically, Cersei (and Tywin’s) loathing also depends very much from the fact that Tyrion’s birth was also the reason behind Joanna’s death. In their point of view, Tyrion is responsible for Joanna’s passing: this, too, is not justifiable, because death on birthbed is very common in Westeros, and not everyone reacts as Cersei and Tywin did. So, the fact that Tyrion Lannister is a dwarf, and as a dwarf was the cause of Joanna’s death, that’s what’s behind Cersei and Tywin’s profound hostilty, mainly. Had Tyrion not been a dwarf, would he have encountered the same sort of rejection? Probably, although not quite as much as he does given his condition. So to answer the first part, no, it’s not justified. It can easily be explained (as you can see) but as I have repeated countless times, explaining and justifying are two entirely different things.

Now, after the Purple Wedding there are some factors that one must take into consideration. Of course, the fact that Cersei never liked Tyrion was the fundation for what happened later on; if Jaime had been in Tyrion’s position, holding the jar of wine, she probably wouldn’t have been that quick to point the finger at him. But it was not Jaime, it was Tyrion, and Cersei’s intense hatred or him made it easy to put 2 and 2 together and come up with 5. But. BUT. Is it solely prejudice? I don’t think so. It is certainly a great part of it, but it’s too easy to say “She accused him because she hated him”. Cersei saw the wine that later poisoned her son, she saw it in Tyrion’s hands. Tyrion himself jokingly told her (in what was undoubtedly one of Tyrion’s biggest mistakes, considering the vindictive person he was dealing with) that he would hurt Tommen. He voiced threats that Cersei never forgot. And he always spoke up against Joffrey, calling him (and her, mind you) out on their bullshit. Is it really that hard to understand why Cersei would think Tyrion to be responsible? All the hints pointed at that. “Your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth,” he promises her. And Cersei, who is not one to forget, remembers and spits it all back when the time comes and… like, is it really that hard to see why? I don’t say justify, because that’s not what we are trying to do here. But to see where she’s coming from, and understand why she’s so keen on having him found guilty.

It’s important to specify that Cersei really does believe that Tyrion killed Joffrey. Like, we do see that in her POV chapters. If there’s one thing she is sure of, is that Tyrion is responsible for it. In that convinction, how hard is it to understand why a mother would want her son’s murderer dead? I know I would.Forget that you, as readers, know that she is wrong and Tyrion did not poison Joffrey. She doesn’t. She is of course prejudiced and inclined to believe it is him, that goes without saying. But considering that she believes in what she saw, and what she heard, and everything objectively seems to point towards Tyrion, I think her need for justice and vengeance is absolutely understandable.

If you want to talk about how she decided to handle it, that’s an entirely different story of course. Genocide was an awful reaction, one that stresses how little Cersei cares about the little people (and I am not talking about people affected by dwarfism, I am talking about the people, the little people as in lowborns and, according to Cersei, way too irrelevant to spare a second thought on them.) But that was not your question, so I’m drifting away once more and I’ll just stop here.

ETA: Thank you myladymother for reminding me! THE PROPHECY DUDE. Don’t forget Cersei lived her life believing her little brother would kill her! So like, you also have to insert her hatred in that prespective.

Congratulations Hemmings (Luke Hemmings) Anon Requested

I wanna request an imagine with luke where you found out that you’re pregnant but you and luke are having a fight and break up and he founds out later in your pregnancy , please ? xx

A/N:Oohhh this could be interesting! ✖️REQUESTS OPEN✖️

You clutched the white stick in your palms, holding it to your heaving chest as tears began stinging your eyes. Positive. How could it be positive? Of course it’s fucking positive it’s just your luck isn’t it!?

You thought back to the night it happened, the way he held you close, the way he made you feel so good with every touch he put on you. That night you lost control, you were reckless and decided to have a little fun without a pretty important thing, the one thing that could’ve prevented this.

You were only 18, you weren’t ready for this, you weren’t trained enough for this, you were barely grown up yourself how were you supposed to bring someone else up? And Luke, poor Luke, he has his band, this could ruin him, 19 and already a father, and with the touring, leaving you alone a lot, having to worry about his child whilst he’s half way across the world, he doesn’t need this on his plate right now, he’s got enough to deal with.

You sat on the bathroom floor, surrounded by 14 other pregnancy tests, all reading the same thing, the one thing you didn’t want it to be. You heard the door slam, immediately making you jump, you scooped up all the tests and shoved them into the pharmacy bag, quickly hiding the tests in the bathroom trash before running into the bedroom, wiping your tears along the way. You stood beside the bed as the door flung open and Luke stomped in, throwing his guitar case down by the wardrobe.

“Hey, how was your day?” You sniffed, trying to sound as cheery as possible, you knew you still sounded like you were crying but Luke took no notice and collapsed on the bed, groaning in response to your question. You didn’t feel like right now was the right time to tell him, he’s obviously just had a rough day, there’s always another day tomorrow. “Wanna talk about it?” You asked cautiously.

“No just… Leave me alone for a while” he murmured into the duvet. You honestly felt pretty hurt and offended but decided it was best just to leave him. If his day was bad already, you don’t need to add to the equation with a sarcastic comment.

You decided to take refuge in the living room, watching Take Me Out on the tv, another one of those shows that were extremely cringy and redundant but at the same time you loved them. You were sat on the couch, curled up with the remote in hand, occasionally fiddling with it subconsciously when you heard the bedroom door open and saw a Luke appear in the apartment hallway.

“God, Y/N don’t you ever do anything?” He sighed as he made his way to the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge. You were shocked to say the least, you honestly haven’t done anything to aggravate him but he turns on you, the mother of his unborn child that he doesn’t know about, for his own fucking problems. As if you’ve not suffered enough today?

“Excuse me?” You said, more than angry at him now. Whether it was pregnancy mood swings or what but you suddenly felt more hatred towards him than you’ve ever felt towards anyone else before. You stand up as he plops down on the couch, pressing the bottle to his lips and taking a sip before shooting you a nasty look.

“You heard me, all you fucking do all day is sit and watch TV whilst I go out and actually try and do stuff with my life, I go out and earn a living for you and you don’t even try to do anything. I do everything for you and the least you could do is dress up a little every now and then” he looked at you like you were some sort of disgusting insect. You felt anger burning in your eyes, you’ve been working your ass off trying to get the new apartment fixed up and trying to make it feel like a home, you’re currently taking a break from college to start a new life with Luke and this is how he shows his understanding?

Your attire was another thing that he commented on rocking your nerves, you were dressed in a hoodie and comfy leggings because you were feeling like shit right now, morning sickness was a pretty big issue for you, trying to discreetly puke so you don’t worry your boyfriend is harder than it sounds.

“Well I’m sorry that I’m feeling like crap right now but is is completely your fault! And I’m so sorry, you’re right you do absolutely everything around here, because it’s been you that’s been painting the guest bedroom, it’s been you that’s unpacked every single box of your crap, it’s been you that has been buying furniture and putting it together and it’s been you that put that fucking couch you’re sat on right now together even after I asked you to do it 2 weeks ago!” You yelled, all your stress of moving quickly spilling out all at once.

"How is you feeling like shit my fault?!” He asked, obviously focusing on the big picture here.

“Because it- just is okay?” because it was your fucking idea to bang without protection that’s why! Luke was stood up now, staring you down and making you feel small, his eyes a dark blue as the fury runs through them.

“Right because every little thing that goes wrong is my fault is it? You feel like shit so it’s my fault?! No, you know what, if everything that I do for you is so bad, Y/N then maybe you’d be better off without me because I sure as hell would be better off without you right now!” He spat, taking you aback.

"You don’t fucking mean that” you choked out, bottom lip beginning to tremble, whole body filling with fear as the though of having to raise this baby alone became more and more realistic than before. “Luke tell me you don’t mean that” you sobbed, moving towards him but he held his hand up, creating an invisible barrier. You could practically hear Luke’s brain working, the gears going around in his head trying to figure out what he was going to do next.

“I think you should go” he said quietly before walking away. Then you broke, collapsing to your knees in a fit of sobs as the only support you had right now was cut painfully from you. You can’t tell him now. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

you packed a bag as Luke watched, you kept an eye on him, trying to catch even a glimmer of regret with no avail. You went to your parents that night, they held you whilst you cried, they listened to your ailments, that was until you mentioned being pregnant, then their consoling hugs turned into scolding arguments. They didn’t even think twice before kicking you out too. At least they gave you a place to go instead.

They let you stay one night before they arranged to put you on a plane, taking you over to Seattle to live up with your Grandmother. You knew she would look after you, your parents just couldn’t face the neighbours judgemental looks as you waddled past their house with a child that would probably end up getting a boyfriend or girlfriend before you did.

When you told her she was going to be a great-grandmother, she was thrilled! She was excited to see the baby grow and help look after him or her. You knew as much as anyone how much your Grandma loved babies, whenever you’d go shopping together on your visits she would always manage to hold some strangers baby. She would talk to these people like she knew them and they would gladly hand over their child but when you asked your Grandma who they were she would always say she doesn’t know.

You had completely cut contact from Luke, you left the remainder of your stuff there, not wanting to come back and pick it up, especially now because your baby bump was beginning to show and the less Luke knew about your baby the more at ease you felt. You knew deep down that this was unfair to him and the baby but when the baby is old enough to make a valid decision, you would let them figure out if they wanted Luke in their life. Yes this was selfish but you didn’t care, the less contact with Luke, the better.

6 Months had passed and you were finally settled in with your Grandma, she had finally stopped swearing her heart out about how wrong “This Luke Fellow”, as your Grandma called him, was. Your Grandma never met Luke in the 3 years you were together and she wasn’t exactly a punk-rocker so the chances she knew who 5 Seconds Of Summer were-were very slim.

Your baby was developing fast and your bump was growing ever more, sure you got judgemental looks every now and then as you walked down the street with your bump showing but you didn’t care. Grandma was being extremely helpful, she was teaching you all sorts of things, preparing you and still let you be independent as you liked to be. You don’t know what you would’ve done without her right now, she was your knight in shining armour and you couldn’t thank her enough.

“Are you sure dear? You know it’s pretty chilly outside, don’t want you do come down with a cold especially while you’re pregnant, that can be really bad for the baby” she tired to convince you as you slipped on the biggest coat you had, it was perfect, the bump was hidden nicely, you wouldn’t even knew it was there.

Your Grandma was going grocery shopping and you decided you wanted to go, both to help her and to suppress your craving for pickles and Nutella, sometimes together. She was determined to make you stay at home whilst she dealt with all the shopping but you were adamant on going just to feel useful and human instead of feeling like a redundant lump.

“No no, Grandma, I’m coming, you can’t get rid of me that easily” you both chuckled, the relationship you had with your Grandma was one you cherished very much, she was just like a teenager in a strange way, she talked so freely and didn’t have any kind of care for judgemental people so she was always the best person to go to-to talk, especially in your situation but she was also such a sweet old lady that strangers seem to trust with their child. And because of your situation your relationship was stronger, it turns out your mother was the result of a reckless night your teenage Grandmother had which explains her liveliness and free spirit, she was still only about 60 herself.

You managed to get into the shop with the warm gust of wind hitting your face as you walked in. Your Grandma has a strange routine she does when she’s shopping so you decide to leave her alone to get on with it whilst you find your pickles and Nutella that your baby is practically aching for.

As you wondered the aisles by yourself you felt your breath hitch in your throat as you walked past a rack of magazines that, to your surprise had Luke’s face plastered all over the local newspaper. You hesitantly pick one up and skim through the pages and your heart does somersaults as you read the first headline “5 Seconds Of Summer Set To Sing For Seattle!” You feel your body getting tense as you think about Luke currently being on the same part of the world as you right now and possibly in the same city as you right now.

You threw the newspaper back and grab a jar of Nutella from the aisle before beginning your pickle hunt. You had scanned four aisles with no pickles to be seen, that was until you reached the fifth aisle that you noticed the little green jar sat right on the top shelf, you stepped over a wet floor sign to get to the shelf, you reached and reached, stretched and stretched but could you reach the one jar you wanted? No.

“Here let me help” you heard a voice behind you. A voice you knew all too well, the one you’d trying to forget, the one you sometimes hear as you lie in your bed at night, the one that used to sing you to sleep, the one you really didn’t need in your life right now.

You watched as the arm stretched up from behind you and his cologne drifted into your nostrils making so many memories of him come flooding back. You turned around to take the jar from him and run away but the look on his face when he realised it was you was priceless and you felt kind of good knowing you had the power to shock him like that.

“Y/N?” He whispered and you stared at him with a tired expression. You had nothing to say to him and weren’t really in the mood for a fight. He lifted his arms to hug you but you quickly pushed him away, not wanting him to feel the growing bump beneath your coat. “It’s been so long. How are you?” He asked, awkwardly shoving his hands in his pockets after the rejection.

“I’m good, how are you?” You said quietly. Not really wanting to be in the conversation but you were in the hole now, there was a chance to run still but you were too damn nice and decided to stay and chat for a while.

“Good. What the hell are you doing out here?” He asked, laughing slightly at how anywhere in the world, miles away from home, you manage to bump into each other here.

“I’ve been staying with my Grandma for a few weeks, just visiting. What about you?” You knew exactly what he was doing here but you were scared that if you confessed that you knew why he was here, he would think you had been checking up on him.

“Tour” he smiled proudly.

“Well it’s good to see those stressful days at the studio payed off” you said a little too harsh. You two shared a look, knowing exactly what you meant by your comment. He was about to say something before you felt a hand on your arm.

“Okay I’ve got everything, you ready Hun?” Your Grandma asked, saving you from confrontation.

“Yeah, let’s go Grandma” you smiled, taking the pickles from Luke and putting your things in the basket.

“It was nice seeing you” you heard behind you, you turned around to smile at him sadly but continued walking resulting in you slipping on the wet floor, falling backwards and onto your bum. You clutched your stomach in a panic, scared you had hurt the baby somehow.

You weren’t paying attention to what was going on around you, your a grandma shouting for help and a crowd suddenly forming around you. You suddenly saw an arm extend towards you and as your eyes followed up the arm you saw Luke’s face, it was confused to say the least, why your Grandma was shouting for a doctor wasn’t exactly clear to him. You took a hold of his hand and he began to pull you up but he slipped on the floor too and ended up landing on your legs.

“Be careful! She’s pregnant!” Your Grandma yelled at Luke who shot you a shocked look immediately. He glanced at your belly and noticed your coat to have flown open, exposing your bump. Just as you were about to say something a tall man in a suit came running over to you.

“Don’t worry I’m a doctor” he said seriously, Luke stayed on the floor, lying on his side just watching the doctor press his hands against your stomach “do you feel any pain around here?” He asked applying pressure to the bump. You shook your head no. “How far along are you?” He asked. You looked at Luke, staring directly into his eyes as you replied;

“Seven months” Luke’s eyebrows knitted together and you could see the maths happening in his brain before his eyes went wide. He stared at your stomach for a while with his mouth wide open. “Congratulations Hemmings” you spat.

The man asked a few more questions before deciding it was a good idea for you to go home and rest for a while and if any pain starts then you should see a doctor immediately. Your Grandma forced you to go and sit outside on a bench while she payed for the food and as you sat there you pictured Luke’s face. How disappointed you had felt that he looked angry about it. It was times like this that you felt truly alone. You knew from his stare that he didn’t want this. He didn’t want to be a dad and you were okay with that but secretly wished he had hugged you and told you he would be there for you.

“Room on that bench for a third?” You were snapped out of your thoughts by the familiar Aussie accent that had previously caused your heart to race but now makes it sink even lower.

“Third?” You asked, looking around behind him for maybe Ashton, Calum or Michael as you were alone on the bench.

“Yeah, you, me… Our baby” he said the last bit hesitantly, like if he didn’t say it maybe it wasn’t true. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked sternly, you avoiding his gaze by fiddling with a piece of cotton that’d come loose on your coat.

“Like you would’ve cared” you mumbled, the bitterness of the break up still strong in your mind.

“How could I not care about my own baby?! When were you gonna tell me? Babies 18th birthday?!” He yelled, making you feel smaller with every raised word.

“I was gonna let them make their own decision when they were old enough. You hurt me Luke, I didn’t want the baby to get hurt like I did” you mumbled, holding in a sob.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I had a rough day, I didn’t mean what I said. I went to find you, I went to your friends houses but they didn’t know where you were, I went to your parents house but they said you left like an hour before I got there. Do you know what it’s like to miss out on someone you love by an hour? Fucking hurts, Y/N. I care about you and now I care about the baby, that human in there is mine too and I want to be there for them till the day I die. I want to teach them to talk, catch them when they fall and secretly give them ice cream before dinner. I know it’s early days and we’re way too young for this and I’ve got my band but I want this. I want this family because out of anyone on this planet, you’re the only one I would want to have it with” he stared deep into your eyes and you could feel yourself falling again, the boy had you wrapped around his little finger and you didn’t care. The baby needs a father and you were willing to give him another chance at being the one to fill the role.

“You’re gonna have to try, Luke. This is a tough job and it’s full time” you warned.

“I know and I’m prepared to do it” he smiled, sitting down next to you.

“You’re also gonna have to deal with my Grandma, she wants to rip your face off for what you did to me” you said, putting your arms around his neck as his went to your waist.

“I’ll try but if she rips my face off that means I won’t be able to kiss you” he raised his eyebrows at you.

“Maybe we should tell her together” you giggled, staring at the plump pink lips only inches from your own.

“Sounds like a plan” he chuckled softly before placing his lips on yours in a sweet short kiss, pulling away and placing his hands onto your belly before whispering “my baby”.

A/N: Fuck it’s long

So this is sort of in reply to the last post I made about the way tumblr promotes what I had called “heterophobia.”

And because you’re all young adults on the internet and apparently lack all social skills, you nitpicked it and stuck your judgement quiet heavily on this term. In all honesty, it was the first time I used it. Yeah. I made it up. I figured there is the term homophobia so there must also be the term heterophobia. A quick google search will provide you with many results showing that yes, that is a thing. Or, at least it is a real word. What I’m trying to get at is that that term implies the same general connotation that homophobia does. It’s not so much “the fear of” but more of an intolerance of bias against heterosexuals.

Which actually does exist. Shocking, I know. I mean if you had asked me about ‘heterophobia’ a year ago I probably would have laughed in your face, but recently I think that this term has started to gain more following. Which is completely horrible. I honestly am confronted with this sort of bias at GSA clubs, which is THE LAST place I was expected to be confronted with it. Gay Straight Alliance is supposed to be an alliance, right? That’s why I signed up for it. Yet I go in there and am constantly bombarded with people talking about “shit straight people,” and how much of a horrible person my sexual has deemed me. Isn’t that the exact point of these sort of organizations? To combat those attitudes? And yet it’s gotten to a point where this supposed safe haven has just turned into a sexuality showdown, with harassment and disparage.

It got past tumblr, and that’s really worrying me. Yes, I can ignore the jokes and idiotic comments on the internet but when that hatred starts to leak into my life at school, it needs to stop. That was the point of the first post. You can try to rip apart my argument all you want with comments about how privileged straight people are in this society, but it’s not going to change the fact that these things happen. It’s not going to make heterophobia suddenly nonexistent. Yeah, I got the better end of the stick. That doesn’t excuse the fact that bullying and hatred is anything but bullying and hatred.

There are better battles to fight. Ones that cause change and spread hope. Ones that actually combat the problems.

This? This doesn’t. This just spreads more intolerance and gives power to homophobic degenerates who then use these kinds of attitudes in an attempt to give their homophobic tendencies integrity. The fact that most people are going to respond to this by laughing and brushing it all off without even considering the possibility that somewhere people are ACTUALLY getting bullied for being straight is god damn depressing. Tumblr has completely and utterly blown apart the saying, “Treat people the way you want to be treated,” and seeing values like these get phased out really makes me lose the little faith I had in… well, everything concerning this generation and the future.

5sos Preference #35 He sees bruises


“Sweetie, hurry up!” Michael your boyfriend called from the stairs “the boys are waiting” he added “alright, alright I’m coming” you spoke coming down the steps he sighed “what? Do I not look good?” you questioned him “no, no you look beautiful, but it’s just you’re wearing a sweater and it’s like eighty degrees outside” he said “Mike, I’m not changing” you told him “do you at least have another shirt under it?” he asked “I have a t-shirt on, is that fine?” he nodded and took your hand and led you outside “Jesus, it’s about time!” Calum said “it’s hot as hell out Y/n and you have a sweater on??” Ashton complained “Ashton, I swear” you mumbled and got in the car. You and the boys were hanging out today since it’s been awhile you decided to hang out around town and go to the park, you all waited to cross the road but as you were about to cross a hand tugged on your arm which caused pain to go through it “babe! There’s a car coming!” Michael said “fuck! That hurt!” you nearly yelled “I didn’t even pull you that hard?” Michael said you didn’t look at him when he said “sweetie what is it?” Mike questioned “nothing, it’s nothing” you told him “obviously it’s something if it hurt that bad” he said “it’s just a little bruise that’s it” you told him “take the sweater off” he commanded you pulled the shirt off and showed him the bruise, actually all the boys saw “what the hell , Y/n?? What did you do??” Ashton asked examining it “I just hit it up against something” the terrible lie didn’t get passed Michael “you’re lying, Y/n, tell us what happened!” Michael said “it’s my dad okay!? He..he fucking hit me yesterday” you said with a tear strolling down your cheek “why the fuck did he hit you!?” he asked “he just came home pissed and I was just sitting on the couch and he just hit me” you said Michael shook his head “you’re moving in with me, you’re staying with me tonight, I won’t let you go back alone. No, I’m coming with you to pack your stuff tomorrow, I swear he will never ever touch you again Y/n, I promise” Michael said and hugged you tight “and we’ll help” Ashton said “thanks guys." 


 His P.O.V

"Luke, I’ve got to go” my friend Y/n said standing up from the couch “where ya going?” I asked her “Jeffery he’s wanting me home” she spoke Jeffery was her boyfriend, excuse me her low life boyfriend. I had so much hatred for him and it was just because of how he treated Y/n, he always had control of her. I worry about her a lot when he’s around. I hugged her goodbye and went to bed, I might have slept for 2 hours until I heard the ringing of my doorbell go off and the clap of thunder. I quickly came down the steps and opened my door and Y/n soaking wet “Luke” she cried “oh my god, Y/n what happened to you?!” I pulled her inside my house “baby your eye?” I said and carefully pushed hair out of her eye “c'mere sit down” I said making my way over to the couch with her, she sat down I went to the kitchen and grabbed an ice pack “Y/n” I said “I got home and Jeffery was there, he s-started to yell at me because I was late, we then got into an argument that’s when he slapped me” she said “that bastered laid his hands on you!?” I yelled she had her head down and nodded I pulled her closer to me as she cried “shh, baby it’s going to be okay, I promise he won’t lay his hands on you ever again” I kissed her head “c'mon let’s get you into some new clothes” I told her. I gave her a pair of my sweats and let her wear my smiley face shirt we then cuddled up on the couch and watched a movie in the middle of the movie she looked at me and kissed my cheek “thank you, Luke” she said “you can stay here for now on if you’d like until you find another home” I told her “I’d like that” she said.


Your P.O.V 

It had been a very rough week seeing I had a lot of shit to do, like finish my English paper and do some shopping. Now I can’t even hang out with my boyfriend until I get something to cover up this bruise on my eye that my brother had given me. Calum, my boyfriend kept texting me and calling asking if he could hang out I told him I was sick, but seeing that wouldn’t stop him from coming over I just finally gave up. I was sitting on my bed with my arms wrapped around my legs alone in my house until I heard someone knock on my door “babe? You in here?” the sound of Calum’s voice entered the room “yeah” I said I had my head resting on my knee’s my face was turned away from the door “how ya feeling?” he asked I just shrugged “well I mean what’s hurting?” he questioned “everything” I croaked “babe? Are? Are you crying?” he asked. Shit. “Why aren’t you looking at me?” he questioned and scooted closer to me “Y/n” he said turning my cheek to him “w-what?” he mumbled I wiped a tear away “Y/n, who did this??” he asked I didn’t want to answer because I know he’d go crazy I just shook my head “Y/n, tell me babe I need to know who hurt you!” “i-it was my brother” I said and looked at him his face was filled with anger “h-he fucking touched you?” he said like he was on the verge of just leaving and killing the guy “he came home drunk” I said “no, fuck that pack your stuff you’re leaving I swear I will fucking find him and kill him I can’t believe he even touched you, damn babe how come you didn’t put any ice on it??” he asked “I’m afraid to even leave the room” I said he laid a light kiss on my forehead and whispered a few shh’s “you don’t have to be afraid anymore babe, I’ll protect you from anything and everything for now on” he said “I love you” he added “I love you too Calum” “okay, let’s get you packed.”


His P.O.V

“Y/n, hey! So I was wondering if you want to come over and maybe swim with me and the boys today?” I asked my best friend over the phone “um, yes of course I’ll be over in a minute” she spoke, she sounded like she had just woken up. She hung up. “So mate is she coming?” Calum asked me “yeah she’ll be over here in a minute” I told him “mate you’ve got this!” Luke said “I hope she’ll say yes, because I can’t hold it in any longer” I said “she feels the same way about you Ashton, she’s told us” Michael said “whatever you say boys” I said “well I’m going into the pool now!” Calum said “me too!” Luke shouted and they both disappeared into the pool. “I’ll stay in the shade and play some Pokemon” Michael said and left. Minutes passed Y/n came into the house “hey Y/n!” I said “hi ash” she said softly I hugged her. When I seen her come in her eyes were a little red, I just thought she was tired “so the boys are outside” I told her “if it’s okay I think I’ll just sit in the shade with Michael for a little bit my stomach isn’t feeling it right now” she spoke “ya sure? Do need anything? Water?” I questioned she shook her head “No, thanks I’ll just sit down with Mike” she said trying to not make eye contact with me “okay babe” we both walked outside she went to join Michael I jumped into the pool. Michael and Y/n were chatting up a storm and I admit to getting a little jealous “Y/n! Get in the pool!” Calum shouted “I’m fine Calum” she said “c'mon babe get in!” I said she sighed and came to stick her feet in the pool “I’m in ya happy?” “you’re whole body isn’t in” I said “I’m not feeling it today ash” she said “are you sure you’re okay babe?” I asked her she rubbed her eyes “I’m okay Ashton I swear” she said and got up to sit back by Michael. Now I felt a little worried she never acted like this before. Michael had got up and surprisingly got into the pool. Weird. So I got out and sat in his spot next to Y/n “sorry about that” I told her she looked at me “it’s okay, I’m sorry I’m being a grouch” she said I giggled at her “you’re cute when you’re grumpy” I said she gave me a slight smile “but you look as if you want to tell me something?” I questioned her and took her hand into mine “ash, I” she started “hmm?” her eyes started to water up “sweetie, what’s the matter?” “the truth is… My stomach doesn’t really hurt, earlier today my step dad he got angry with me because I didn’t finish cleaning the house and he beat me” she spoke “whoa, whoa what do you mean he beat you?? You mean the old bag fucking laid his hands on you!?” I freaked she nodded and lifted her shirt up revealing her side that had a green and purple bruise on it “I swear to god I will fucking find him and-” “Ashton, it’s nothing” she said “don’t say that’s it nothing! He put his hands on you babe obviously it’s something! No! I will not sit here and see the one girl that I love cry because her step father beat her! No, we’re calling the police and he will be put in jail I swear” I told her “wait, what?” she said “huh?” “you just said you loved me?” she said “oh good god, yes Y/n, I love you and I have since the 3rd grade! But it’s not the time to talk about that because we have to report your fa-” she interrupted me with her lips attached to mine “I love you too Ashton” she spoke “I promise he won’t ever touch you again, I promise nobody will ever lay their hands on you unless it’s me and we’re cuddling, but other than that anyone who lays a finger on you, will fucking suffer the worst from me and-” she once again interrupted me with her lips “shut up” she mumbled “you’re staying here tonight” I said against her lips “I planned on it." 

A/n- yeah Ashton’s got a little long. :| Enjoy it anyway loves! xx