hope for humanity restored

There is an underground network preparing to hide immigrants
Faith leaders in California don't have hope President Donald Trump won't enter churches or places of worship where immigrants may seek sanctuary. So they are building safe houses and preparing rooms to hide immigrants who fear ICE will deport them.
By Kyung Lah, Alberto Moya and Mallory Simon, CNN

A hammer pounds away in the living room of a middle class home. A sanding machine smoothes the grain of the wood floor in the dining room.

But this home Pastor Ada Valiente is showing off in Los Angeles, with its refurbished floors, is no ordinary home.

“It would be three families we host here,” Valiente says.

By “host,” she means provide refuge to people who may be sought by US Immigration and Customs Enforcement, known as ICE. The families staying here would be undocumented immigrants, fearing an ICE raid and possible deportation.

The purchase of this home is part of a network formed by Los Angeles religious leaders across faiths in the wake of Donald Trump’s election. The intent is to shelter hundreds, possibly thousands of undocumented people in safe houses across Southern California.

The goal is to offer another sanctuary beyond religious buildings or schools, ones that require federal authorities to obtain warrants before entering the homes.

“That’s what we need to do as a community to keep families together,” Valiente says.

At another Los Angeles neighborhood miles away, a Jewish man shows off a sparsely decorated spare bedroom in his home. White sheets on the bed and the clean, adjacent full bathroom bear all the markers of an impending visit. The man, who asked not to be identified, pictures an undocumented woman and her children who may find refuge in his home someday.

The man says he’s never been in trouble before and has difficulty picturing that moment. But he’s well educated and understands the Fourth Amendment, which gives people the right to be secure in their homes, against unreasonable searches and seizures. He’s pictured the moment if ICE were to knock on his door.

“I definitely won’t let them in. That’s our legal right,” he says. “If they have a warrant, then they can come in. I can imagine that could be scary, but I feel the consequences of being passive in this moment is a little scary.”

Caught by your linen eyes, let them fool

This is for the lovely and incomparable @inbetweenwars, who, when they heard that I’ve been too sick to work and couldn’t manage to buy @essiecorking‘s fanbook, ‘an invincible love’, offered to buy me it as a gift. I’ve truly never met another person willing to do something so selfless for somebody they’ve never met, and only to cheer me up and bring happiness that they won’t benefit from, so due to the fact that they will not take payment of any kind, here is a small kagehina fic dedicated to them <333 I feel it’s not enough to convey my endless gratitude and how touched I am by your actions, but nevertheless.

This is the promised third year kagehina, as they discuss the future and finally realise their dumb feelings for one another. I call it ‘fluff without plot’, which translates as FWP, which also sounds like a noise Hinata would make.

2K, teen & up audiences <33

Title from a beautiful song, Colourway by Novo Amor

“How do you think we’ll see each other?” Hinata asks, after he’s taken out the ice lolly from his mouth with a loud, sloppily satisfying slurp.

Kageyama turns his head on the grass, his own lollipop freezing in mid-air as he frowns over at Hinata. “What do you mean?” He asks. “We’re seeing each other right now, dumbass.”

Hinata tsks in the back of his throat, something he’s taught himself to do in order to appear more authoritative to the first years. “No, bakageyama.” He sighs, long-suffering, as if he’s dealing with another one of the new recruits that Hinata has to teach how to catch a ball. “How do you think we’ll see one another when we’re older?”

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New Chapter 13 Update makes plot even messier than before. Tabata tried to fix story and explain characters’ motivations, but instead he created new plot holes. 

The only good thing is bro-comradery between Gladiolus and Ignis (gladnis fans should be happy). Some Ardyn’s comments were pretty funny too (and some definitely not). Iedolas content (5 seconds of normal screentime and one really tasteless moment with Foras) is pure joke. Ravus death was so fucking brutal, I am glad that it wasn’t his last death… But now everything about Ravus is more convoluted (and 300% more tragic).

- Ravus, why da fuck you are in Zegnautus? There is no convoy behind him. Nothing that can prevent him from escape. Why didn’t kill Iedolas immediately? Why didn’t deliver sword in Altissia?

- Nothing about his change of heart. He started to respect Noctis, but why? Okay, Noctis killed Leviathan, but only with Luna’s help and blessing. From Ravus’ perspective it should be another “my sister sacrifised her life for this weakling” moment. Everything in this scene looks like developers tried too hard show that “Ravus is good guy now”.

- Where is other Nifflheim folks?

- The way how Gladio’s acted means that no Ravus in Episode Ignis. My only hope is episode Prompto.

Mercifully, it wasn’t awkward Kingsglaive montage (I don’t know which is worse - Ravus lack of screentime in game or his screentime in movie) or new 3 notes around his body, but it stll didn’t enough. And let’s face it - this game based on interactions between party members. You can add 2 minutes or 2 hours cutscenes for characters, it doesn’t change a lot if you can’t contact with them directly. Lunafreya has movie, small Brotherhood cameo, Omen trailer, but people still complain about her being underdeveloped, because she is foreigner. Iris, who is absolutely pointless character, is more interesting for a big part of fanbase, because she is party member. 

Tabata’s team dropped balls on proper character’s arcs, but I can’t deny how good they handle small details like Noctis patting Iris’ head, Prompto helping Iggy to walk, etc. That’s how it works. 

Sorry for rambling and mess, typos, I`m very emotional and it’s 5 AM.

P.S. I dare say his arm wasn’t the reason why he become daemon? Good thing, at least my fears that Luna was aware about MT’s hand and his possible infection, but didn’t tell him, are gone. Now let me back to that promotional image with Fleuret siblings and big chocolate cake.

Damian Wayne/ Robin X Reader- What Do You Mean? (Part 4)

You sighed contently as you were huddled close to your dad.  Fight Club was being displayed on the television, showing off Brad Pitt and all of his glory.  Damian was out regretfully on patrol, knowing that you were due any day now.  Your dad was the only person that he trusted to watch over you, despite Dick’s begging, and handle your weird moods and cravings. He and Roy had even stocked the apartment with many odd assortments of food so that they would be prepared for what is to come.  Roy and Jason had taken some time off from vigilante work to take care of you, despite your protests, while Damian handled crime as Batman.  Bruce visited often, but preferred to remain at the manor.  Alfred had stopped over a few hours prior, scolding Jason for allowing you to eat ‘such atrocious food.’  You loved Alfred, but no one was separating you from your nutella and pickles.  You sniffled and rubbed your eyes, instantly catching the attention of your dad.

“What’s wrong, (Y/N)?” he asked worriedly, “Is the baby coming?!”

“No,” you sobbed, “why does that dude get to imagine himself as someone like Brad Pitt when I’m stuck like this?  It would be so cool to be Scarlett Johansson or even Angelina Jolie.”

Jason stared at you for a moment and bursted laughing.

“Why are you laughing?” you asked and wiped away some tears.  “Is it because I punched you in the face when we first met?”

“Because you are hilarious,” he responded, still laughing at your hormonal dialogue.

You once again wiped away your tears and snuggled deeper into your blanket that Tim had given you a few months ago.  Jason was still recovering from his laughter when you went to reach over to the table to grab more snacks.

“Let me get it,” he insisted and grabbed the bowl.

You snatched it from his hands and glared at him, “I’m not helpless, dad.”

“I’m just trying to be a gentleman,” Jason raised his hands in defence.

You rolled your eyes and shoved some of the candy into your mouth, “I will be pissed if I get fucking out of shape after this.”

It was at this moment, Jason realized that he wished he had a camera to film all of this.  He knew that you are a hilarious person, but your humor had multiplied as your pregnancy progressed.  Of course he had to deal with your mood swings and cravings, but it was worth it.  After all of these years he had taken care of you, the kid who kicked his ass, he never imagined that he would be this content with his life.  Sure, he would still have the occasional argument with Bruce and shitty patrol, but you would always either knock some sense into him or make his day brighter.  You were the one who restored his hope for humanity whenever it was shattered.  

“You have that look,” you stated, knocking Jason out of his thoughts.

“Which look?” Jason asked, raising a brow.

“Overdramatic,” you coughed.  “You have the ‘I’m thinking of the meaning of life’ look.”

“Speaking of the meaning of life, do you want to watch Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy after this?” he asked.

“Sure, but can you grab the-” you froze.

“Grab the what?” Jason questioned you.


“Yeah, (Y/N)?”

“The baby is coming.”

Jason jumped off of the couch and ran into your room.  He grabbed the baby bag and returned to the living room, where you were munching on some of the candy that was still on the table.

“What are you doing?!  Let’s go!!” Jason shouted and ran over to you.

“Can we go get some hamburgers?”

Trying to study but all I can think about is John’s reaction to finding out that merle aka man who restored his humanity and hope in life, changed everything about John’s outlook on the world etc, is viewed as/believes he’s viewed as the butt of most jokes with his friends

Someone makes a joke about merle being a shitty cleric or just don’t take him or his talents seriously in general and John is ?? ???? ? ??? ??

Fear (Pharah/Mercy - Overwatch)

Death was inevitable. No doctor was delusional enough to believe everyone could be saved, but Angela tried her best. With every life saved, it restored hope in her—perhaps humanity would understand that fighting wasn’t the solution. Until then, she rushed into battle alongside her allies and ensured their lives never flickered out. They had Angela’s back, in turn.

But it didn’t stop the hitch in Angela’s throat when guns fired to the skies and struck Fareeha.

She didn’t think; she just acted. The wings to her valkyrie suit unfurled and her feet lifted from solid ground. Once in range, a golden beam jutted out from her Caduceus Staff and connected with the falling Fareeha. And yet she still fell.

No, Angela thought while zooming towards her. Don’t die on me. I won’t let you. Just fly. Please, fly.

She blinked back what she refused to admit was tears. Fly for me.

But Fareeha crashed into one of the rooftops and Angela touched down on the ledge. Maneuvering past the damaged shingles, Angela maintained the healing beam while dropping to her knees. She damned the Raptora Mark VI for preventing her from locating a vein for a heartbeat. The technology was too advanced for even Angela to decipher the vital stats on the electronics. Fear riddled Angela’s face as she pressed a palm into Fareeha’s chest. Nothing beat for her there, but the motors still whirred in the suit.

A moment later, Fareeha stirred, groaned, and grimaced. Angela gasped and held her breath. When she flashed those beautiful, dark eyes at Angela, a smile overwhelmed her.

“You’re alive!” Angela squeaked out.

“Am I?” Fareeha struggled to sit up. “You sure?”

“For now, yes. Let me call for backup. Wounds I can deal with, but malfunctions in your suit are beyond my—”

“No, I must be dead,” Fareeha insisted. “You’re an angel… right?”

Blush burned Angela’s cheeks while Fareeha closed her eyes.

She stayed beside her exhausted comrade until additional medics arrived to escort Fareeha off the battlefield. While her Caduceus Staff worked its magic, Angela sat in silence with Fareeha’s words echoing in her head. She had to have been delirious from the shock. Confused her outfit with that of an actual angel.

Because she couldn’t possibly think that fondly of her, right? 

Angela could only dream that she did. Sometimes a dream was enough to get by on.

[also on AO3] [also on FFN

i am honestly impressed with how much the opening part of yanxia looks EXACTLY like a song dynasty landscape painting (this being the golden age of chinese landscapes)

some examples: 

(guo xi, early spring)

(yan wengui, pavilions and streams)

(fan kuan, travelers among mountains and streams)

the basic elements there: grey stone mountains, flowing rivers and streams, twisting trees, mist, human creations like buildings and humans themselves being small and kind of “tucked in” feeling, an accent to the landscape instead of its emphasis. but even more than that, the intense verticality of the compositions is reproduced in the zone, and i think they’re even trying to go for the impressionistic sense the painters cultivated (insofar as one even can in a game like this). and finally, it is also evocative on a deeper level, considering that song painters’ (esp. northern song) creations were political, and about successful and correct ordering of a great society and as we enter yanxia, it is in the hopes of restoring a humane and correct order to doma

(no yanxia screenshots in this post rn because i don’t have good ones atm and i’m still in q and can’t get some for a while and made this post to pass the time. updates possible later).

A Dream Come True (Mark x Reader)

Character: Markiplier (Mark Fischbach)

Fandom: Markiplier/Youtubers

Categories: Reader Insert, Female!Reader, Youtuber!Reader

Title: A Dream Come True

Requested by @darkknightiplier:

The reader starts a YouTube Channel and gets contacted by Markiplier himself. They decided to meet. The reader getting to hang out with Mark and later asks the reader on a date? Which includes romantic dinner, theatre, and on the park. (A date with Markiplier kinda thing). He feels like he got to know the reader so well that he would absolutely ask for the reader to be his?

I had never been more nervous and excited in my life.

I stood at the queue, waiting for the meet and greet to get an autograph from the man himself. Mark Fischbach.

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Just a quick note guys that I’m forever greatful for the overwhelmingly positive feedback I got on my last painting of Dean. You guys changed the way I saw it. I’m no longer dissapointed that the outcome wasn’t what I wanted, and am now proud of myself for seeing it through. I’m working on some others right now, taking it back a step to do some more realism studies but in the mean time feel free to message me, I’m looking for fellow artists and spn fans to follow. Thanks.

41/50 - “What are you doing in my house?”

Fandom: All for the Game/The Foxhole Court
Characters/pairings: Jeremy, Jean/jerejean
Summary: Jeremy’s had a hard week and Jean wants to talk.

A/N: I’m kind of indifferent to jerejean but I tried. Thank you for the prompt - messy or not;)

**warning: Jean talks about being raped.**

Jeremy sat down on the couch of his childhood home and sighed. It had been a trying day - no, week. He was just glad it was over.

He thought of his team. All of them working so hard to play hard but not using any unnecessary excessive force. He was proud of them. They were set to win the Day Spirit Award for the ninth year in a row if last week’s game didn’t ruin it.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. He was one of the few people who believed in David Wymack’s cause. He didn’t scoff at it or view it as a publicity attempt.

David Wymack gave Jeremy hope. Restored his faith in humanity some would say.

If David Wymack could risk his team’s status year after year to give troubled youth another chance, Jeremy figured the least he could do was take on just one more Raven onto his team.

He had thought, “How bad could it be?” The former Raven had only been a freshman when the Exy world was rocked by the scandal of their treatment in Castle Evermore. How much damage could one year really do?

Jeremy had learned the hard way that one year was enough to tarnish the Trojans’ reputation for never having received a red card. If getting their first ever red card had happened first, maybe Jeremy wouldn’t have done the other thing that was ruining his week.

Or maybe his words would have been viewed as desperate instead of just misplaced.

Jeremy wasn’t one to dwell but it was his fifth and final year with the Trojans. It was supposed to be his best year, yet.

He sat up, removing the glass cork from his father’s favorite bottle in his crystal set. He began pouring whisky over the ice in his glass when he heard a thump. He startled, spilling alcohol on the coffee table.

Setting the crystal bottle down he turned slowly, flinching at the sight of another person before breathing out a huge breath. He closed his eyes and tried to slow his heartrate.

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anonymous asked:

Um ok so I'm an undergrad creative writing major and I went to an official workshop conference thing a while ago. Long story short, it made me feel rlly upset/uncertain about writing programs and writers in general. & then I read Lucky Us. It's one of my favorite fics of all time and the fact that you're an MFA student just really restored my hope in humanity? I'm sorry if this is a weird message but I wanted to let you know that your fic helped me when I was second guessing my creative passion


For three years, I didn’t even consider going for an advanced degree in creative writing because there’s such a huge emphasis on literary fiction in the academic community. Not that there’s anything wrong with literary fiction! I just… don’t write it. And I wasn’t interested in dishing out money for a program that would tell me my writing wasn’t valid.

The program I’m in is a genre fiction program. They teach us romance, mystery, western, and speculative fiction alongside fiction craft. Our teachers are science fiction geeks with decades of experience in the field, and they are so kind and supportive (no matter how scary they like to pretend they are). 

I’d highly recommend looking into genre fiction programs if an MFA is something you’re interested in. My program in particular allows you to sample the summer courses to see if you want to pursue the full degree. At least, I think they’re still doing that… 

You should message me off anon so we can talk! I’ll be here a few more days so I can ask the faculty if that’s still going on. 

But please, don’t give up on writing just because there are a bunch of snobby writers out there. You write for YOU. Not for anyone else. 

Restored Dreams (Curtis Everett x Reader)

Day One / Two / Three

Word Count (1,848)

AN: Remember this fic? Haven’t updated since August wow I’m trash

Tanya was nudged softly awake, her fingers curled into one another in her furry jacket. Her head had found itself resting against someone’s shoulder, and the little nudges made her slowly open her eyes and glance at whoever was bugging you, “If you don’t knock it off-”

With one last nudge across from them, Tanya snapped her head in the direction and was met with a sight she never in her life thought she would’ve seen. There, wrapped under a single blanket, was Curtis Everett relaxed with his hand laced into locks of hair, and you were rested comfortably against his chest. Tanya stifled a laugh, but her grin she just couldn’t hide. Sunlight was already penetrating the train car, so she loudly cleared her throat.

Curtis, being an easy sleeper, lowly opened his eyes, glaring at the light to look across at who made the noise. He had almost forgotten where he was and what he was doing, until he saw Tanya’s shit eating grin and when she motioned down at him. Curtis’ eyes followed down to your resting head against him. He wasn’t embarrassed at all, in fact it only solidified in everyone that you were off limits. End of story. He unlatched his fingers from your hair and lightly shook your shoulders, making your stir a bit and raise your head slightly, “Is it time?” your  voice asked and Curtis rubbed your shoulder, “Yeah. Time to get moving.”

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