i hate that i had to put them in black and white

The 100 Hogwarts AU - John Murphy in Gryffindor

Mudblood. 

They say discrimination is dead, the Wizarding community. Everyone is accepted, they say. Well somebody forgot to tell them Murphy existed. He was the Gryffindor that the other Gryffindors hated, tried to shove him over to the Slytherins - who, also, wouldn’t have a bar of him. But, to be fair, he had tried to murder Jasper numerous times for snoring too loudly. 

His father had been arrested for stealing medicine Murphy had needed when he was sick. Their family was poor, but when Murphy got sick it was when they hit the ultimate low. Nobody could figure out what it was, and the medicine his father had ended up stealing was apparently dangerous. They said that they were convinced his father was going to start dealing it. They couldn’t afford a lawyer.

His mother blamed him, and the rest history.

It was only when his Hogwarts letter arrived that he, not his mother, had to attempt to write a letter to send back explaining he couldn’t go because he was too sick. It was then, and only then, did the Ministry of Magic swoop in to take him to St. Mungos, and he was cured over night.

His mother’s blame only strengthened. 

He had never had many friends as a kid, so eleven year old Murphy may have come on too strong when attempting to make friends. He found himself hovering around Bellamy, who was a few years his senior.

There was only so much pain, suffering, and bullying that someone could take until they either cracked or became one.

Murphy became an asshole. 

His friends digged it. He was cool. He was finally getting attention. And then princess swooped in, reformed Bellamy, and Bellamy kicked him off the Quidditch team.

Oh yeah, did he mention he was a chaser? Not anymore. 

Mudblood. Nobody. Asshole. Killed your father. Devil child.

Just another day in the life of one John Murphy.

I hate the way the media acts like black girls aren't the most beautiful women on this planet im sick of niggas putting basic ass white broads on a pedestal ,i would date a white girl if she was fly af and had a brain in her head but she would have to be special cause im too woke to deal with microaggressions and ignorance... i get so sick of niggas acting like white broads are so fly like niggas will get the most busted ass white skeezer and cuff her ... but its melanin godesses running around and niggas talking about "darkskin girls ugly lightskin winning" (girl has 4c hair " bitch your aint natural thats called nappy" ... like im so sick of that shit, these black girls who are literally queens be looking flawless having degrees and doing big things and niggas treat them like garbage ... but yall be tripping too acting like you to good for the weird ass lightskinned nigga who just tryna talk to you , blow ya back out and expand your mind .... 🐸🍵

C: I’m a little bitter about the natural hair movement. Growing up, I hated my hair. No one taught me to appreciate it and my mom tried her best with it. It was thick, soft and fluffy but I have flashbacks of being rejected at hair salons at a young age because it would take at least 2 hours to do my hair. I was embarrassed of it. I got a relaxer at 11 solely because I wanted to be able to put my hair behind my ear like a white girl. My mom said even the hairdresser’s recommended the relaxer but it was ultimately my own decision. When it came out, I got envious looks from the salon ladies because it was long, thick and silky and mid back length. Over the years I had split ends and ended up going natural 2 years ago. I’m bitter because if I had more people around me as a child that celebrated my coils or knew how to tame them, I would possibly have waist length hair. Features like my thick black eyebrows and hair are suddenly celebrated now when I remember hating everything about it. I remember being teased about it. It’s not fair.

The police have managed to bring in members of the Bundy family who were shooting at them without killing any of them. Same with James Holmes, and countless other white mass murderers. But when a black person reaches for his license during a routine stop for a broken tail light, they get “scared” and murder him in front of his partner and her young child.

I’ve never had a job where I would be able to screw up the most basic function and not only keep my job, but be protected by everyone in my entire profession. Bad cops continue to murder with impunity because “good cops” protect them. I will stop hating police when they stop racially profiling, when they stop killing unarmed black people for no reason, when the “good cops” speak out and say, “No, I don’t stand with that murderer, send him to jail, I’ll put the cuffs on myself.” Until then, there is no such thing as a good cop.

A doctor could save more lives than anyone else, but if he knew another doctor in his hospital was intentionally poisoning black patients and stood up for that doctor instead of getting that doctor fired, he would be a bad doctor. A firefighter could carry two children and a litter of puppies out of a burning building, but if she knew another firefighter was letting black people’s homes burn and stood up for that firefighter instead of doing everything she could to put a stop to it, she’d be a bad firefighter. So every cop in America that doesn’t break this bullshit Blue Code of Silence, condemn these racist killers, and do everything they can to make sure they never hold a badge and gun again, which is 99.999999% of all cops, is a bad cop and I wouldn’t care if they all died.

If you take issue with any part of that, unfriend me. I’m sick of being scared for my life and the lives of every other non-white person I know just for existing, and I don’t want anything to do with anyone who excuses this nonsense.

When Jack opened his eyes, he didn’t recognize his surroundings. Everything was stark and white, and it was cold. Not the chill that Jack equated with Halloween, the breezy type of chill that came with fall. The kind he loved. It was an artifical cold, a sanitaized chill that made Jack feel like he was being watched. He hated it. The gangly teen tried sitting up and rubbing his eyes, but there was something attached to his arm. Fuck. He was put on an IV. That’s what I get, I guess Jack thought. When you don’t actually take care of yourself when you’re sick. He knew he was dehydrated. He just chose to ignore it, more important things were happening. 

His head was spinning, it still hurt. Maybe from blacking out or the dehydration. And he wanted to leave, but he had to deal with that stupid IV. But before he could he heard voices outside the room. He didn’t recognize them right away, but one of the voices was definitely that nurse that was taking care of him. She reminded Jack of his mother, and he really didn’t want to deal with that right now, so before anyone could enter the room and start fussing over him, Jack laid back down again, pretending to be asleep until he knew who was there.