is that a word whatever

You know why Yuri on Ice is such a big deal?

Because for a very long time, anime didn’t have many explicit gay characters. 

This has probably been said before, but I don’t care. I’m saying it too because it means so much to me. When I was a young queer kid growing up, we had two types of representation in anime: porn–which had a whole slew of issues I could write a separate essay on–or gay “hints.” That was it. Very few characters were explicitly gay. We lived off of the crumbs they gave us: gay jokes (example: Kurama joking to Hiei that he doesn’t swing that way in Yu Yu Hakusho), accidental kisses (like the infamous Naruto-Sasuke kiss), characters who were queer coded (Shinji Ikari from Evangelion), characters who were gay but changed in the dub (the “cousins” from Sailor Moon), implied gay characters (Utena), flamboyant characters (James from Pokemon), I could go on. 

But the crumbs were all we ever got. And when you’re a queer kid, you’ll take what you can get. Hell, if a show said the word “gay” I was excited about it. But as I grew up, I became less and less satisfied with implied representation, until I stopped watching anime all together. Sure, as years passed we had anime like Tiger and Bunny and Koroko no Basket and Free! that did better jobs, but nothing concrete ever came of it.

Then one day, a friend of mine turned to me and said, “You have to watch Yuri on Ice. It’s so gay.” And bitter as I was, I assumed it was going to be yet another anime where “It’s so gay” meant two male characters stand too close to each other. I almost didn’t watch YOI because I wasn’t going to get my hopes up again.

But then someone told me some of the best news I’ve ever heard: “They kiss, and it’s not a joke or an accident.”

I didn’t believe it. An actual kiss between two queer characters in a genre anime. I cannot tell you how I rushed to watch YOI after that. And I loved it. I loved every minute of it. And I cried, because fifteen-year-old me had finally gotten her wish.

I can’t overemphasize how much this show means to me and how happy I am for queer kids today who get to see real LGBT couples in their media. This is huge, and it’s going to change everything, and it’s so much more than a gay figure skating show. Though it’s a damn good one at that. ;)

Help Me {Soulmate AU} [D.M.]

Character: Draco Malfoy
Word Count: 1574
Requested?: Yes/No
Summary: Soulmate AU where whatever Y/n writes on her skin also appears on her soulmate’s skin. Draco is determined to find the girl who is begging to be saved from herself.
WARNINGS: Do not read if you are triggered by depressive thoughts.
Disclaimer: Gif isn’t mine, credit to whoever made it

+ + + + +

Depression is a complex thing, meaning so much to one person, yet so little to another. To one, it’s a demon, reaching out and taking the joy from everything in the world, and replacing it with hopelessness and despair.

It isn’t always easy, to see who has depression. Sometimes, it’s the person you least expect. Sometimes, it can be the happiest-seeming person ever. But then one day, they may be in the middle of a laugh,

and they just stop.

Depression is a constant thing, and it rips apart everything you ever hold dear.

It stops you from caring, about anything, really. It consumes you, filling your head with thoughts that wouldn’t even dare to enter other people’s minds.

Depression is the slow, painful process of accepting life’s negatives, and being exhausted whilst waiting for death.

Because sometimes, suicidal people aren’t really wanting to die, but rather, they just want an escape from the horrors of day-to-day activities.

Depression is hard when you have no one to talk to, because no one seems to care. Hell, you don’t even seem to care. It’s made even harder when those around you frown upon anything in the mental health region.

It’s impossible to try and do anything, without second-guessing yourself about it, because that’s what depression does.

And maybe that’s the reason why, when you came across a strange group of dark, hooded figures in your third year, that though they tried, they couldn’t take away your happiness.

Because you had none left to give.

Life had chewed you up and spat you out. And you were done.

Because depression is like screaming in a room filled with people, yet none of them seem to hear or care.

It’s like drowning, but people are watching you struggle, enjoying your pain.

It’s like waiting for something dreadful, sitting around with a ball of angst circling your stomach, as you try to cling onto any last hopes you have.

Except, it’s all disappeared.

When you sat around, alone with your looking thoughts, all you had was parchment and a quill. It wasn’t enough to take your mind away from all the negativity - nothing was - but it helped. Marginally.

You had lost all hope for anything getting better, but you did cling onto the fact that maybe, possibly, there was somebody out there that could help you. That cared.

You had heard rumours, where a thing printed onto your skin, would appear on your soulmate’s. You didn’t know if it was true - nobody spoke of it directly to you. Nobody spoke of anything directly to you.

But it was the last thing you could do.

You picked up your quill, and printed two words.

Help me.


He hadn’t noticed at first, too caught up in trying to catch Potter doing something he shouldn’t.

He barely paid attention to the black ink that had mysteriously appeared on the back of his hand.

It was only when Crabbe pointed to his hand and asked what it was that he finally noticed two words etched into his skin.

Help me.

He stared at the words, his heart pounding, and breath getting caught in his throat.

Help me.

They appeared again, written carefully underneath the last. His mind clogged with situations where his soulmate would need to try and communicate with him like this.

Help me.

“I have to go,” he said, pulling the sleeve of his cloak to hide his hand as he walked out of the Slytherin common rooms.

Help me.

He glanced down at his hand, which was becoming filled with black ink, the same phrase written over and over.

Help me.

He had to find you. There was no doubt about it. You needed him. For once, he was going to try and help someone other than himself.

And that’s when he pulled out his own quill, and began to write.


You dropped the quill, your hand aching. If the rumours were true, your soulmate would see what you had written, and, with any luck, save you before it’s too late.

Gripping harshly on the table in front of you, your face contorted in pain; emotional pain.

You stared down at your ink-covered hand until your eyes began to blur.

That’s when you saw it.

The intricate handwriting printed on the back of your other hand, appearing like magic.

How can I help?

Your heart jolted. The soulmate rumours were true. And now… now you had someone who was willing to help you.

Slowly, as if you expected it to be a dream, you began to answer the question.

I need help saving me from myself.


“How many times do I have to tell you, you filthy little mudblood! Stay out of my way!” A voice ring through your ears as you clenched your hidden fists. “Just leave me alone, Malfoy,” you muttered, pushing past him.

You wanted to get to the library, where you could communicate with your soulmate in privacy.

“Wait a minute, come back here!” He said as you held a hand grabbing your cloak and yanking you back, “You seem to be in a hurry. Where are you heading to? You better not be contaminating everywhere with your dirty blood.”

“Why would I tell you?” You said quietly, removing your cloak from his grasp, and trying to turn away.

“Hey! I’m not done with you yet!”

“Well I’m done with you,” you said as you stalked off, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes.

You could just lay down and cry right now, a voice inside your head said, Nobody cares, not really.

Finally making it to the library, you took a seat hidden in the shadows, far away from the other people sat down studying, and took out your quill.

I can’t do it anymore.

Your reply was almost instantaneous.

Don’t say that, please don’t say that.

You gulped harshly.

I’m sorry, but nothing’s working. I’m not getting better, and I don’t think I ever will.

You will! I’ll help you. I always do, remember?

You remembered all the times where you sat alone, talking to this mysterious person, who always seemed to be able to make you feel even slightly better - at least temporarily.

I don’t think words will work this time.

The words were shaky, and you didn’t expect the reply as quick as you received it.

Then I’ll meet you someplace. That is, if you’re at Hogwarts school?

Your heart raced. Your soulmate wanted to meet you. You.

I am.

Then I’ll meet you in the Astronomy Tower at 7 tonight.

For the first time in as long as you could remember, you smiled.

I’ll be there.


You started having second thoughts when you walked up the steps to the tower. What were you thinking? This person was the only one to ever help you, and now you’re meeting - what if they decided they didn’t want to help anymore?

This person, though you hadn’t properly met yet, was, by far, the most important person in your life right now.

And, if you were completely honest, you didn’t know if you wanted to put a face to the writing.

It was nearly 7, and your heart was beating faster than it should have. Your nerves were at an all-time high.

You didn’t know why you agreed to this.

When you finally heard footsteps, you braced yourself, looking out of the window to look across the school grounds, and took a shaky breath.

The footsteps stopped, and you turned around.

“What are you doing here, Malfoy?” You said in shock, hoping, praying this wasn’t what you thought it was. You glanced over his shoulder to see if your real soulmate had somehow appeared yet instead.

“I’m meeting somebody, not that it concerns a mudblood like you. You should just leave, so I can wait alone.”

“Who are you meeting?” You asked, your heart plummeting down into the depths of your stomach. You had a terrible anxious feeling; you knew what was coming.

“I’m meeting my soulmate, if you must know,” Draco said with a smug tone, “Bet you haven’t found yours yet have you?”

You felt a pang of pain in your heart when you realised who you’d been talking to, “I’ve got to go.”

Rushing out of the room, you ran down the stairs and heading straight for your common room.

Draco Malfoy was your soulmate.

If that wasn’t enough the send you over the edge, you didn’t know what was.


Why didn’t you show up?

You glanced at your hand, your chest seeming to tighten.

You didn’t know how to reply, not now you knew your soulmate was Draco Malfoy, the boy who had been bullying you for the past couple of years or so.

Sighing, you picked up your quill.

I did.

You lay on your bed in your dorm, staring up at the ceiling and wishing it was someone else you were talking to.

Anyone else.

I didn’t see you there.

You did.

There wasn’t a reply for a while, though you kept checking. It was more of a habit now, than you actually wanting a reply. In fact, though you were attached to the person you had been talking to, now you knew it was Malfoy… things were different.

You couldn’t believe how much you had actually told him in the space of two weeks.

When you looked down at your hand again, you sighed.


k like out of curiosity i asked one of my pretty religious high school friends that im still in contact w/ how they felt abt gay ppl and i got the whole “i do believe marriage should be between a man and a woman, so i think homosexuality is a sin … but i dont hate gay ppl or just tolerate them b/c jesus says we have to love everyone despite their sin” and i honestly want to stab my eyes out

Do ya ever just kinda start crying because your friends are just the sweetest brightest kindest most wonderful people in the world…???

anonymous asked:

Could you do a fic of Miles surprising the reader on their birthday? Maybe smut if you write it but if not then whatever you think would be cute!

Word Count: 849

“So what are you doing for your birthday?” Maggie asked as you doodled next to her. You had been waiting for her to finish for about half an hour so the two of you could get lunch.

“Drinking a bottle of wine, some Mario Kart, and snuggling with a very cute boy,” you replied.

She wrinkled her nose, “You two are honestly disgusting. But seriously that’s it? Miles doesn’t really seem like the type to have a quiet night at home on your birthday.”

“What to know a secret?” you finally looked up from your doodles.

“You know I love gossip. What’s the word?” she asked leaning on her desk and looking at you.

Keep reading

jollysailorswan  asked:

1. That chapter was too good! I can't wait for more Phichit! <3 2. All the prompts you answer with more backstory of the mafia au give me life 3. HECK YES GIVE ME ALL THE BACKSTORY AND THE EMOTIONAL DEVELOPMENT OF THESE TWO I DON'T EVEN MIND ABOUT THE CLIFFHANGER!!!

I’m honestly glad people thought it was okay cos I loathed every word, not fishing for comments or whatever you call it, it was just one of those ones where you gotta grind through it in order to get to the next plot point. It happens. Phichit, Yurio and fluff made up for it a bit though :D

Thank! I am having a lot of fun with them too, so it’s a win win! And yesssss, you’re gonna get some, not all of it just yet, but a good portion of it in the next update, I am so excited fbvbvodidnckjwndckjwbvh and p.s i love cliffhangers XD 

If you’re thinking about self harming, I want you to know I’m here.

If you’re feeling suicidal, I want you to know I’m here.

If you’re struggling with an eating disorder, I want you to know I’m here.

If you’re being bullied, I want you to know I’m here.

If you’re trying not to relapse, whatever that word means for you, I’m here.

I’m here for all of you. I may not be the best at giving advice but I do care and my inbox/messages are always open for you guys, whether you want to rant, or you want advice, or you just want to talk about something random to distract you.

I don’t want anyone who reads this to feel alone, as though no one cares. Because I’ve been there. And it sucks. It really, really sucks.

I love you all.

anonymous asked:

I never knew d*mb was an ableist word. Thank you for telling me. As someone who was in special ed classes almost all throughout my school life for a learning disability. I can see how it would be, and even though I personally am not offended by 1/2

I can see how others, would be offended by the word. 2/2

If you look at the history of the word, it was once used at the medical term for people who are mute- in other words, people physically/psychologically unable to speak (for whatever reason). From there, it became an insult, and now it’s used to refer to people who are unintelligent. In a sense, it implies that people incapable of speech are unintelligent, and therefore inferior.

So, yes, it’s really ableist. I appreciate you censoring the word.


we get it, you’re gay.
my sexuality is not a shirt that I take off at the end of each day, it is not dirty. I do not dress myself in lesbianism just for the fashion perks; homophobia is not in style. i am not a living light switch, I do not turn myself off to solve all your problems, my light will not go out because it’s too bright for you.
we get it, you’re gay.
if I stop talking about it, it will not go away. I would say I am sorry to disappoint but I am not sorry, I am gay, I am very gay and I am not sorry for who I am, I am only sorry that you have a problem with self-liberation and confidence.
we get it, you’re gay.
I can tell when someone is uncomfortable and my sexuality is making you uncomfortable, you are upset that I am comfortable in my own skin, you are upset that I am comfortable with the fact that I love girls and you are uncomfortable about the fact that I won’t shut up. you can’t silence my sexuality, actions speak louder than words.
we get it, you’re gay.
you don’t mind that I’m gay you just don’t want me to be too gay, because being too gay is distracting. you want me to be quiet gay, nice gay, understanding gay, your-gay-friend gay, let-you-get-away-with-everything gay. I can like girls but I’m supposed to whisper that kind of thing, not shout it. the neighbors aren’t supposed to hear.
we get it, you’re gay.
you say you understand, but you’d rather just push it under the rug. it’s okay if I’m gay, but I shouldn’t rub it in your face. you don’t mind, you say, but you can’t help but notice how many people are gay these days and you assume it must be some kind of practical joke. I am not a joke, my life is not some riddle, do you see me laughing? this is not funny.
we get it, you’re gay.
oh, I’m just rebellious, I’ve been told. a rebellious teen confused by the media, so tell me, where is my army? where are my hundreds of thousands of lgbt soldiers, ready to fight this war on love? we stand united but we are not armed, because if we bring the weapons we have guaranteed ourselves a two-minute five o'clock news slot, tragic tragedy, one-more-gay-gone, let’s save the world, let’s save the gays.
we get it, you’re gay.
“lesbians have ruined flannels for me” because the community was supposed to ask for a style after you denied us basic human rights? I’m sorry gay girls have ruined plaid for you, but it never looked too great on you anyway. maybe you should stick to solid colors; if you put too many shades on one shirt, it might look like a rainbow and someone might accidentally think you’re gay. can’t have that.
we get it, you’re gay.
don’t annoy the straights! eyes wide open, avoiding ticking bombs of discrimination, it happens all the time but there’s no way to prepare yourself for hate speech coming from the mouth of your mother or your teacher or your best friend. I bite my tongue to keep from coming out but you’re just so sure that you can trust me, I’ll get it, no offense, no hard feelings, I will understand.
we get it, you’re gay.
I am not going to hit on you, just because I like girls does not mean that I like you, I love myself and I love being gay. do not make my sexuality about you, my life does not revolve around you. I’ve undressed in front of you my entire life but now you insist on changing in the next room. you don’t say it, but I know. I’m not a friend, I’m a predator.
we get it, you’re gay.
you can ramble all day about how that kid in your physics class is just to die for, but the second I mention that a girl in my history class is cute then all eyes are burning holes into my skin. you don’t have to bring your gay with you everywhere, leave it at home most days, it’s too embarrassing to share.
we get it, you’re gay.
I don’t look gay enough, I’ve heard. do I need to carry a sign with me everywhere to broadcast that I Am Not Straight, I am g-a-y gay, rainbows all over my body and in my back pocket, just so you can see?
we get it, you’re gay.
oh, but you tell me that I am not gay I am not gay because I am a girl that likes girls, I can only use the word lesbian. I didn’t know that I erased my name tag and handed it to you, I didn’t know that you were in charge of what I called myself, I didn’t know you were allowed to police my labels; I never asked for your opinions but that never stopped you anyway, do you understand?
we get it, you’re gay.
so, by gay, do you mean really gay or just a little gay? lipstick lesbian, three-way fantasy, am I right? what stereotype would you like to claim, or would you prefer that I choose?
we get it, you’re gay.
truth or dare has always been a death sentence for me, and anyone that says that party games aren’t lethal doesn’t know pure poison, I grew up drinking venom from vodka bottles because alcohol was nothing to a child on the run. so explain to me why I would stop now.
we get it, you’re gay.
in every wedding aisle there’s a “mr.” and a “mrs.” who’s the man in the relationship, they’ll ask us, nothing about us is traditional but they’ll insist we wear white anyway. marriage equality, what else are you fighting for?
I get it, you’re straight.
you’re the cool straight friend. you’re the best straight friend any gay person could ever have, asking for fashion advice and introducing me as your “gay friend.” you say that you have a pretty great gaydar, and you knew all along. do you also know that I want you to shut the fuck up?
I get it, you’re straight.
capital s “Straight,” straight as a telephone pole, straighter than a ruler. so straight and everyone knows without you saying a word because you people are everywhere. you’re on cereal boxes and billboards and in every television show. you’re the main character but we’re just there for a little drama, an episode or two, and then we’re gone.
I get it, you’re straight.
you have never had to come out of the closet because you were never in one to begin with, you own the entire house and didn’t even give us enough room to be. has anyone ever told you how dark and crowded a closet is? it is so hard to breathe with so little space to exist, I’m surprised my thoughts didn’t suffocate me over the years, would you have even noticed?
I get it, you’re straight.
you’re a girl and you like boys, only boys. I mean, everyone experiments in college, right? everyone loves that song, I kissed a girl, because everyone loves just to give being gay a try without the weight of what it really means. it’s not cheating if it’s with a girl, right? right?
I get it, you’re straight.
no homo, bro! holding hands, sharing drinks, making eye contact, it’s not gay, no homo. just two pals being gals, no homo, don’t worry, we’re straight!
I get it, you’re straight.
you have learned how to hate since the moment you were born. no worries, I have been too, but I unlearned heteronormativity so I could fall in love with myself. you preach it every sunday in church and every weekday at work, you learn that serving me is optional, that you can turn me away because you don’t like who I love.
I get it, you’re straight.
lets talk about me as a topic of class discussion, I am the focus of today’s debate, go. argue your stance. do you think this girl at table three should have the right to get married, the right to adopt, the right to buy milk, the right to exist? do you think this girl at table three is just trying to fit in? do you think the girl at table three should be allowed to go to prom? tell me, let’s talk about the girl at table three, no harm done.
I get it, you’re straight.
you are in every book I’ve ever read. the love stories are always about you, how can you expect me to grow up and not feel flawed? these novels teach me to hate who I am, it’s a miracle in and of itself that I’m still here.
I get it, you’re straight.
“there’s a war on straight people,” excuse me? we are just beginning to come out of the shadows because the earth is only now a little less haunted and you have the audacity to say that you are the ones under attack?
I get it, you’re straight.
every step we take is monitored and broadcast for the world to see. you are just a person allowed to make your own decisions but everything I do respresents my entire community and there is no space for me to make mistakes. I am not perfect but I am trying.
I get it, you’re straight.
you say that me being gay is not a big deal to you, it could be anyone, no big deal, not at all. but it’s a big deal to me, this wasn’t an easy thing to say. why should I silence myself, am I overreacting?
I get it, you’re straight.
there’s no rule book for being an ally and sometimes the borders become a little blurred, it’s easy to cross a line. I will help guide you but I will not hold your hand. I cannot always be there to watch the words that trickle out of your mouth, you have to remember that I am a secret.
I get it, you’re straight.
please stop talking about me like I am the latest news story, I am not a headline in big bold font, sometimes I just need a moment to breathe. I have these words printed into my skin just like a newspaper and I’ve never been more black and white.
I get it, you’re straight.
what’s it like to be gay? oh, you know what I mean, so when did you know? which girl turned you gay? why did you lie to us, how many times have you done it with a girl, what about with a guy? how can you be gay if you’ve never done anything? can you ever really know? what if it’s all a phase?
I get it, you’re straight.
the words we identify ourselves by are your insults. they lock us up for holding hands, they criminalize and sexualize our daily activities because they don’t want us corrupting the children. I’ve spent my entire life in an invisible prison with see-through shackles, this is on my permanent record.
I get it, you’re straight.
have you ever considered that my backpack is heavy because I have to carry the weight of your judgment to and from school every day, I have to carry a fire extinguisher in my lunch box because these toxic words are flammable. I might break my back but at least you don’t know.
I get it, you’re straight.
what’s it like to be “normal”? to never have to deal with the undercover I’m-sorry-for-you stares from the kids in the hallway, the I’ll-pray-for you promises spoken by nice ladies in their sunday best?
we get it, you’re gay.
when I’m telling my love story I do not want to lie. I will not censor the pronouns to protect the innocent because my happiness is not guilt-ridden. I am leaving this book open.
—  we get it.

so harrry potter has a gay wizard
the mortal instruments has a bisexual warlock
carry on has two gay mages
the raven cycle has a bisexual magician
and lets be real most of the witches in throne of glass are lesbians.

I have to tell you, my friends, magic aint straight..