So I’ve reblogged a bunch of Bersih 4 rally stuff, and I thought you guys might like to know what’s up with that. I’m not particularly well-versed in this, but here are the basics:
Earlier this year, the Malaysian Prime Minister, Najib (I refuse to use honorifics), was reported by Wall Street Journal to have transferred RM2.6 billion (that’s about $700 million) out of a government-run development company, 1 Malaysia Development Berhad, into his own personal accounts. Yes, under his own name.
One month later, he claimed that this RM2.6 billion was, in fact, donations, primarily from Saudi Arabia as thanks for fighting ISIS. A different government official claims to have seen the cheque with his very own eyes. (Dude, who writes cheques for $700 million? Also, why would donation money go into the prime minister’s personal accounts, and not that of the government or the political party?)
The worst part is that the government is shutting down everyone who dares speak out about this. The Sarawak Report, the website that had been primarily involved with exposing all this, was blocked. The Edge, a newspaper that had been reporting about this 1MDB scandal, has been suspended. Government ministers critical of the scandal have been removed from their positions. Even the attorney general heading the investigation into the scandal was, without warning, forced to resign. (Literally, he walked into the office and was told he wasn’t supposed to be there.)
Bersih means clean in Malay; the Bersih 4 rally is a huge protest by the Malaysian people who are infuriated by the actions (or lack thereof) being taken to punish the prime minister for his crimes. Bersih 4′s five demands are:
1. Free and fair elections 2. A transparent government 3. The right to demonstrate 4. A stronger parliamentary democracy system 5. The rescue of the national economy
There’s still so much more that’s happened. This is Bersih 4, this is the fourth time Malaysians have felt the need to protest against a corrupt government. Even now, we are being oppressed, forced into silence.The newspapers and radio stations cannot report anything that casts the government in a bad light for fear of having their publishing license revoked. Just wearing a Bersih 4 T-shirt is now illegal.
Bersih protesters hate Malaysia, Najib says.I am Malaysia is what he means. How dare you oppose me? How dare you say I am at fault? How dare you use your brains and think for yourselves? How dare you protest for your rights? How dare you make the news? How dare you show the world that Malaysians hate their leader?
How dare you try to strip my power away?
There is little hope that things will change. Honestly, we can protest all we like; it doesn’t matter. The government doesn’t care about us. They will not change. But we cannot roll over and let this happen. We cannot stand by and watch as our country crumbles. We have to do something, we have to fight for change, because if we don’t, then who will?
We love our country, even if our country does not love us.
A/N: I can’t believe that my first Gravity Falls fanfic is a 9k fiddauthor angstfest that was originally just a short Fiddleford character study. What a hell of a way to come off a 5-month writer’s block lmao.
Shoutout to @tallykale whose amazing fiddauthor fics MAY have influenced me writing this (seriously, pls read their stuff, it’s so good!!). Also thanks to my friend @toobookishtohandle for listening to me wail about my own writing and who implored me to give this a happy ending and tone down my angst for just ONCE in my goddamn life (I failed, btw).
Warnings: fluff then devastating angst, non-consensual touching, lots of anxiety, blood, and a few other disturbing things. Nothing too harsh tho, I think. Also mostly canon-complaint? Just with a lot more gay.
…anyways, welcome to run-on sentence hell… hope you enjoy!
McGucket wasn’t one to forget things.
It wasn’t to say he
didn’t forget things, or that he didn’t have a few memories he’d rather not
remember, but he’d always been good at seeing the truth of things. Like how
when he introduced himself with his full name, soothed by the Southern accent
he’d inherited from his Ma, people tended to either snicker or look doubtful that
he was in college in the first place. Or when he first walked into his dorm to
the sight of his future roommate dropping a stack of too-many boxes filled with
too-many papers all across the floor, and the man had stammered out a quick
apology at the same time he introduced himself as Stanford Pines and
practically threw himself at Fiddleford, offering him a handshake before
remembering his insecurities and wincing as Fiddleford grasped the six-fingered
hand. In the space of that time, Fiddleford saw a lot; this was a man that had
been ridiculed just as much as him (for a birth-defect rather than just a silly
accent and a big brain, Fiddleford thought), someone unused to social
interactions, someone that with a wince said silently, “Let’s get this over with…”
People who side with health insurance companies in thinking that profits are more important than sick people getting treatment make me fucking ill. I don’t give a damn if treating sick people loses billions of dollars a year. It should still be done. Why? Because people are more important than money.
Shinpachi is like the ‘Armin’ of Gintama, he doesn’t get that much official goods and he’s frequently undermined. I’d even say he’s practically being ignored by the companies making Gintama merchandise. Why? is it because his glasses? Is it because he’s not sadistic?? Is it because he’s a straight man?? Is it because he’s an otaku??? Save Shinpachi.
The screen of your phone flashed the time at you. 2:57 AM it read, proving that you had ben awake for quite nearly 24 hours. Your eyes burned and your brain wasn’t able to focus the way you needed it to. The only thing you want is sleep, just a few hours of it, but the nightmares push your eyes open time after time. Nothing seemed to help anymore. Finally you give in and call your best friend.
“Y/n?” His voice instantly sooths your nerves. “Are you ok?” Your eyelids become heavy, slowly creeping over your eyes.
“Calum, I can’t sleep. The nightmares are back and I can’t make them stop anymore.” You hear him shift, close a door, and take a deep breath.
“When did they start again? How long have you not been sleeping?” The concern in his voice makes you want to be with him. The only person that could ever help you sleep when the images wouldn’t leave was halfway across the world touring with his band.
“They started about a week ago. But I promise, I have slept in that time.” You could practically see him pinching the bridge of his nose, running his fingers through his hair, before laying back against the back of the couch you were sure he was sitting on. “Cal, I just needed to hear your voice. You always help me sleep.”
“Y/n, sweetheart, I need to know that you’re ok. God, I hate being away from you.” His breath hits the microphone as he lets out a deep sigh.
“Do you want me to sing you to sleep?” He asks after a solid minute of just listening to each other breathe.
“If you wouldn’t mind.” You say, a small smile forming on your lips. God, you were so in love with him and he couldn’t even see it. Maybe someday, when he wasn’t stuck on a world tour you might tell him what his voice means to you. That his arms are the only place you feel safe, that the sound of his light snores when he falls asleep on the couch with you pressed against his chest is the sound of home.
His voice cracks though your thoughts as he starts to sing your favorite song into your ear.
“If the world was on fire and no one could save me but you. Its strange what desire will make foolish people do. I never dreamed I’d meet somebody like you. And I never dreamed I’d lose somebody like you.
No I don’t want to fall in love, no I don’t want to fall in love, with you, with you.
What a wicked game to play to make me feel this way. What a wicked thing to do to let me dream of you. What a wicked thing to say , you never felt this way. What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you.
And I wanna fall in love. No, I wanna fall in love with you.” Sleep slowly washed over you as his voice filled your mind.
“I love you, Y/n. I love you so much. I know you can’t hear this, but I need to say it.” His voice is a whisper in your barely awake ear. “I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you and I can’t even be there to sing you to sleep. Sweet dreams princess.”
Your voice cracks between your lips, barely there. “I love you too, Calum Hood. I always have. Come home soon.” Your eyes close and your phone slips from your hand as you finally fall asleep.
Calum pulls his phone away from his ear, shocked by what you said. He truly thought you were asleep. He never meant for you to hear him say what he always chanted into your ear when he knew you were asleep, constantly telling you that he loves you. A slow smile works its way against his cheeks until he walks out of the back room on the tour bus with the biggest grin playing on his lips.
“Dude, there’s something wrong with your face.” A very blonde Michael remarked, laughing at the stupid look on Calum’s face.
“Mikey. She heard me say it. She heard me say ‘I love you’ and she said it back.” Luke and Ashton look up from their phones, interested in what’s going on.
“But you guys always say that. It’s really nothing new.”
“No, Luke. I told her I’m in love with her. I thought she was asleep but she could still hear me. She said it back.” His brown eyes seemed to be lit as he replays your sleepy voice in his head. for the first time in his career, Calum wished the tour was over. He wished he could be with you, have your head against his chest as your fingers traced the patterns forever inked into his skin. He had someone to come home to, and he couldn’t wait to get back to you.
As always, if you want more let me know. I’m sorry for grammar and spelling. They were never my strong suit and its 3 in the morning and I can’t sleep.
So instead of laying in bed staring at my fan, I decided to listen to Calum’s “Sleep 2″ playlist and write.
In January 2013 Ed Sheeran said that Harry owned two houses in London, but he’d still been living with him for the past few months (this last part is inaccurate, as Harry barely spent any time in London in the months before this interview). On top of that, Harry also owns (or used to own) a flat there.
We know for a fact that he owned at least two houses in London in early 2014 because just weeks after filing an injunction to prevent pap pictures 50 metres away from his house, he was photographed going out with his mum and sister to The Spaniards Inn, which is literally next door to Erskine, his Hampstead house. So the injunction had to be filed to another address, and his name had to be in this address’ deed.
The house he sold ‘at a loss’ in LA (was it a few weeks ago?) was an investment. Stalker fans have assured time and again that he’d never been to that house. What I was told in late 2014 was that he and Louis owned two houses in California, one in Calabasas and one in Malibu. One was bigger, and they usually had friends and family over there, one was smaller just for them.
I’m not sure why the possibility of them owning more than one house in a major city results in such a big controversial conversation. I’m not talking about those who are digging and trying to figure things out, it’s human nature to want to know more about a situation when it’s only partially presented. I’m talking people discussing what it means for HarryandLouis. Nothing. It means nothing. Like it meant nothing when they had three houses between both of them in London in 2013/2014 or two private houses, a public one, and Louis constantly renting in LA in 2014/2015/2016. When me and y friends were told about the two LA houses back in 2014 nobody went ‘oh but what does that mean??’ we just went ‘oh, cool, I wonder how they’re decorated’ and moved on.
thanks to everyone who commented on my last post yesterday!! you’ve helped me a lot :’) I printed my first stickers today and I’d really love to hear your opinion again! Do you like them? what kind of products would you be interested in buying?