rising up angry

5

Endless list of favourite Alec Lightwood scenes - #2
“Robert and Maryse took me in. They raised me as one of their own. I know what kind of people they are.” - Rise Up (1x09)

theatlantic.com
All the Angry Ladies
The fallout is here. Anger is power.
By Megan Garber

[They] understood what remains true today: that anger, particularly when it comes from a woman, can be disruptive. Intemperate, immodest, impatient with the demands of the demure, indignant with a world that disqualifies women from full participation in it—feminine anger can shake the world, right at the foundations. It can take a cudgel to the fragile framework of the status quo.

Day by day, story by story, in public and private, women, through all this, have been taught that the emotions that make them most interestingly and authentically and incorrigibly human are precisely the ones that disqualify them from full ascendance in humanity’s various institutions. In politics. In business. In pop culture. “Calm down,” the world has said, rolling its eyes. “Don’t be so emotional.”

You don’t know how it is. It’s like I’ve got this angry little person inside me, and I can feel him trying to get out. He’s running out of room because he’s growing bigger and bigger, and so he starts rising up, into my lungs, chest, throat, and I just push him right back down. I don’t want him to come out. I can’t let him out.
—  All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven

anonymous asked:

You went through my stuff and found the ring I was going to use to propose and how dare you go through my personal stuff that’s so rude and invasive but more importantly will you marry me? (Whamilton)

“He’s hiding something. He’s probably cheating on me. Oh no. Betsey, what if he’s cheating on me? George wouldn’t cheat on me, would he? I mean, not to say anything for myself exactly, but it’s George - he wouldn’t do that. But it can happen to anyone I guess, I mean, he hasn’t look at me in a week. Every time I try to do anything he just skitters away. Something’s wrong.” 

Alex walked into the bedroom he shared with George and stood in front of George’s dresser, staring it down. The top was clear except for the box George kept his watches in. He put his phone on speaker and set it down. Eliza’s voice filled the room. “Alex, George isn’t cheating on you.”

He kneeled down and opened the bottom drawer. “But you don’t know that.”

“I don’t need to know that, it’s George. And let’s say he was, trust me when I say you’d near damn well have an army rise up to defend your pathetic ass.”

“But it’s George.” Alex riffled through the sweatpants and old t-shirts, looking for something - anything - out of the ordinary. “Everyone loves him.”

Eliza sighed. “You’re not wrong, but people don’t love him enough to forgive him breaking your heart. Even Laf would rise up like an angry cat defending its babies.” 

“Ugh.” He slammed the drawer shut. “It’s going to bother me until I know.”

“Alex, are you snooping? Oh god, please stop whatever you’re doing.”

He opened the next drawer up, looking between the neatly folded undershirts. “How else am I supposed to know though? He’d hide it, wouldn’t he? I have to look where he wouldn’t think I’d look.”

“Oh dear lord, you’re serious. You could, oh, I don’t know, ask him.”

Alex snorted. “Oh, yes, ‘Hey George, you haven’t looked me in the eye for like a week, so I gotta know, who are you cheating on me with?’ That’d go over well.”

“George can’t lie to save his life.”

He slammed the drawer shut and opened the next one. “That’s not true.” He pushed the fabric around, looking for underwear he didn’t recognize or some hint of lace, frustration and relief both building him when he saw nothing out of the ordinary. “There’s nothing here, what the fuck?”

Eliza’s sigh was loud, on purpose no doubt. “Alex, that’s because there’s nothing to be found, like I’ve been saying this entire time. I don’t know what else you expected. Do you want him to be cheating on you?”

“Well, no.” He stood up and opened the top drawer with a huff. “It’s just, there’s gotta be something, right?”

“Just because you’re a terrible human being you can’t not ruin a relationship doesn’t mean everyone is.”

“That’s fair.” His stuck his hand in the mess that was George’s sock drawer and rifled around. “Ha! I found something!” He grabbed the tiny box shoved in the corner. “Oh.”

“What did you find?”

He opened the box to find a simple golden band, a small diamond inset into it. “It’s a ring.”

“Oh my god!” Eliza’s voice was louder and higher pitched. “That’s it! He must be nervous! That’s why he’s been acting weird, Alex, he’s been waiting to propose!”

Behind him Alex heard a familiar chuckle and voice say, “she’s right.”

“Ahrg.” he dropped the box and turned around, hand to his chest. “You started me.”

George walked forward and wrapped Alex in a hug. “I can’t believe you were going through my drawers. Is this a normal thing?”

He shook his head against George’s chest. “No.” 

“Good.” George pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Now, I could give talk to you about how it is not appropriate to go through my things as it’s an invasion of privacy, but for now, I have a much more important question.”

“Hmmm?”

The arms disappeared from around him and George dropped onto one knee, grabbing the ring from where Alex had dropped it. “Will you marry me?”

The smile stretching across his face made his cheeks ache. “Of course.”

The ring was a perfect fit.

Eliza’s voice came from the dresser. “I’m hanging up now. Congatulations! Go have engaged people sex! Have fun! Use protection!”

Alex looked down at George. “Oh god. I’m so sorry.”

George stood up and captured his lips in a gentle kiss. “It’s fine, love.” George closed the space between them. “How about we do as Eliza says?”

“As if I’d want to do anything else.”

3

Honoring Black Panther Party allies: The Chicano Revolutionary Party (CRP) 

The 1960’s was a time when the activism of hundreds of thousands of protesters of many different ethnic groups created coalitions. From the Young Lords to the Peace and Freedom Party, from the Yippies (Youth International Party) to Rising Up Angry, the Black Panther Party formed coalitions with antiwar and radical activist. The Black Panther Party was about “All Power To All The People”, whether you’re black, white, blue, green, yellow, or polka dot. We believed in black unity, but only as a catalyst to help humanize the world. The Black Panther Party worked for self-determination and social justice for all people.

The Chicano Revolutionary Party was a close ally of the Black Panthers. In 1969 The Black Panthers helped the CRP start a Free Breakfast program for Latino and Black Children in the Fruitvale district. The Free breakfast program was based out of Mary help of Christians Church on E9th St in Jingletown. Like the Black Panthers The Chicano Revolutionary Party was targeted by the FBI COINTELPRO.

The Chicano Revolutionary Party (CRP) was based out of East Oakland’s Fruitvale District. The CRP as they were known began in 1968 created by Chicano and Latino students and Community members as a Chicano vanguard for the Chicano Community of East Oakland. The Chicano Revolutionary Opened an Office on 1423 Fruitvale Ave. The CRP began programs to educate The local Chicano community on several issues Ranging from Police Brutality, Immigration issues, Housing Rights, and more. The CRP also began a community newspaper called La Chispa dealing with local issues. Like the Black Panthers the CRP did nightly patrols against Police brutality. If they saw someone getting arrested they would observe the Police and would tell the person being arrested what their rights were.

All Power To All The People!

Via Bobby Seale

7

Grimoire Card: Ghost Fragment - Hunter

She leaves the Sparrow and climbs a long way across spars of volcano rock and between vents of blue fire. Down below the Ishtar ruins spark with skirmish light but the guns seem as distant and brief as the constant starfall and the brooding crater high above. She is alone on the rock. She goes on with her head down so as to fight the sense that she is going to fall up off the world and burn like an inverse meteor.

The message that brought her to this place had no sign but she could hear Cayde in it. Draksis in the Cinders it said. Is it true?

And also: Remember your promise.

At dawn she finds a sentry and kills it with her knife. Its throat bleeds gas. She takes its post and lays out her bullets one by one on the rock as if to make a count of all the years she has been waiting. Her rifle is near as long as she is tall. She lies down by her bullets and uses them to kill the other sentries one by one until at last they understand the thunder and the Shanks rise up angry from the Cinders below to seek her out.

She leaves the rifle and walks across the naked obsidian into the swarm firing from the hip as she goes, each kick of the old revolver a word, Draksis, Draksis, Kell of Winter, Kell of hate, lord of the kingdom of her vendetta. Her jaw aches. She used to imagine biting out his throat with armored teeth.

The stone smokes around her where the arc fire lashes it and the shrapnel guns throw up leaves of obsidian like glass butterflies. She shoots her bandoliers dry and a team of Vandals in glassy stealth leap up to rush her with knives but she raises her hand and burns them down with the golden gun, laughing, crying out Draksis, Draksis, I am come!

She kills them all and takes the next ridge, high above the Cinders. She can see the blue-green pools and the cave mouths where the Vex lights dance. And there among them, gowned in smoke and ash, is the long shark shape of a Ketch, a Wintership, the Kell’s ship, come down to nest.

She could go down there now and finish this. But she made a promise.

A Captain jumps her. She throws two knives into his armor and then staves his chest in with her own Ghost, wrapped up in her fist like a stone.

“Tell the Vanguard,” she says to her Ether-spattered fist. “Tell them Draksis is here.”

Her Ghost looks up at her in silence. When she makes no move to go down the cliff towards the ship it blinks once, in its own way, and makes a soft sound, like a sigh, like relief.

A reprise: Radical Empathy & Fierce Kindness

Is not the same as forgiveness, tolerance or being a doormat. It’s not letting people get a free pass.

It’s realising that even arseholes are scared. It’s realising that the worst criminals in history still had people who loved them. It’s realising your enemy is probably just doing the best they can in a world that makes no sense. (That’s why, incidentally, they’re adherents tof toxic ideologies and practices, andrefuse to interrogate them; such things provide them with fucking security blankets. They give them a sense of agency.)

We have to be kind to each other, even if it’s thrown back in our faces. Why? Because we’re all here together, for such a terribly short time, and contrary to popular belief WE. ALL. NEED. HELP.

All of Nietzsche’s talk of Monsters, and Abysses? That’s what he was saying. Fuck the syphilis story. He had a nervous breakdown when he witnessed a horse get beaten to death in the middle of the street.

He signed his letters Dionysos and “the crucified one” - why?

Because he realised we are all that horse, and also the people beating it.

Please, be kind. It’s the only way anything will change permanently. Be angry, rise up all you need to, but be kind to each other as you do it.

I know it’s hard, nearly impossible in fact, but it’s the only way we’re going to survive - as a species and as you and your friends and family. I’m not inherently kind, not at all. But all the good things I ever had, and have? I got them by being kind, by letting the bullshit flow past, letting the crap of the world pass by and focusing on the importance of trying my best to help other people, as they helped me.

Call me a hippy if you want - it’s not true. I’m a grumpy bastard who really would rather be a misanthrope. Maybe I can’t be kind to everyone, but I’m going to be kind to those I can be. And if they ask me why, I tell them this: Because it’s infinitely preferable to the alternative.

Because it’s not a war, it’s a rescue mission. It’s descending into the dark to find light that you can share with others, to help them learn how to heal and be whole.  If I have to bleed to do it, if I have to pour my heart out with words of storm and fury, fire and ice and black bird’s carrion calls, so fucking be it.

And you’re going to help. You have already. So many of you have already, in small unnoticed ways, but you have and will

Consider this a reminder then. Consider this a voice in your ear. An act of memory.

Thank you for existing. For reading these words.

Be well, OK?

We Understand The Lights.

I promised to write a Cecilos Christmas fic, and I have an essay to write, so much family to hang out with and a huge amount of crushing work. I am so sad I didn’t get it done before Christmas, but I managed it! Please, enjoy, and I hope you had the most lovely Christmas.

Please forgive any mistakes, just know it was written with love, and possibly an abundance of Christmas cheer.

***

The brightly patterned cup of coffee felt wonderfully warm in his hands as Cecil took a cautious sip, leaning carefully away from the soundboard so that he didn’t accidentally drop any of the liquid onto the brightly flashing buttons. He did love working, adored the satisfying feeling of performing his sacred duty towards the town, but there was just something unexplainably satisfying about having a nice long break with a hot drink for company. But this time, he frowned as he took another sip, unable to stop himself from casting a furtive glance at his mobile phone, his eyes taking in the dim screen that hinted at no new messages.

Keep reading

Chicago press conference outside WTTW on the 1st anniversary of Martin Luther Jr.’s assassination. The groups include the Young Lords Organization, the Black Panther Party, the Young Patriots, and Rising Up Angry. The first three groups made up the Rainbow Coalition.

Via Bobby Seale