that one hits home

Dakota Access Pipeline workers bulldozed sacred sites and graves in North Dakota on Sunday, and I found out today that one of those graves belonged to one of my relatives…

I’m not even from Standing Rock and they desecrated a grave of my family member, Charles Picotte (Eta-ke-cha). He isn’t just a long dead man people have forgotten about, this was the grave of a man whose face I know, who I have pictures of in family albums. A family member that lived through the transition to reservation life. I’m upset. I’m angry. I’m shocked right now because it hits home. He was a translator and one of the signers of the Treaty of Fort Laramie, a treaty that 3 of my relatives signed, a treaty they are breaking RIGHT NOW with this pipeline.

I’ve never set foot in Standing Rock, I don’t even know anyone from Standing Rock. But this has affected me all the way over here in Washington, and this is an attack on the rights of native peoples. People need to share what’s happening right now, how they’re desecrating these sacred sites, hiring paramilitary, unleashing dogs and tear gas on protesters defending the health and future of their community, plus their treaty rights, because the media is ignoring all of this. Sign the petition to stop it, send donations to the Sacred Stone camp, raise awareness. This is about the interests of a corporation being put before indigenous peoples rights and health.

Jesus Lord though REALLY??

I am so sorry to new followers, I typically avoid major wankages in the Sherlock dumpster fire fandom but some things are too ugly to ignore.  Yes it may seem silly, but it isn’t silly to me.  Not at all.

I’m a survivor myself, of childhood trauma, but trauma nonetheless.  Seeing those posters make light of true victimhood is not ok.  You don’t get to make images that misrepresent the characters of a tv show to manipulate people into thinking they embody TRUE abuse.  What makes it truly horrible though, is that the person put real, actual abuse hotline numbers and women’s organization phone numbers on these images.  Damn.  ૮(ꂧꁞꂧ)ა

I’m fine with Johnlockers chaffing til the cows come home about their ship not becoming canon, but the continued outright LIES have to cease.  Write your fanfic.  Drawn your fanart.  Fix the show in those ways, that’s fine.  We all do it.  But you guys have to stop poisoning the rest of the fans who enjoyed this thing with outright falsehoods.  Move on, find a new thing that gives you what you want, fix the thing in your head…but stop ravaging the rest of us with your bitter cucumbers of buttock fruit.

Here to Help - Spencer Reid

Part 2

Spencer x Reader

Summary: A case hit home for one of the BAU team but none of the others know why or how to help

Part 1

You had just gotten the case files together was were slowly making your way towards the conference room making sure you didn’t drop them. ‘I thought we were on paperwork today and not cases?’ Morgan’s voice floated through the open door as JJ entered before you. ‘We are but a case needed our attention’ Hotch told the team as JJ sat. ‘Alright’ The team looked at JJ and she just shrugged. ‘I don’t know anything about it, it didn’t come through me’ She explained and they all looked slightly confused.

At that you stepped into the room. ‘That’s because it came through me’ You announced and their heads turned to you. You leaned forwards landing the armful of files you had onto the wood. ‘I flagged a case when I started at the BAU’ You began separating files and passing them across to each of your team. ‘This morning I got a call about it’ You reached over to the center and grabbed the remote for the board. ‘Twenty two years ago a man names Joshua Penican started invading family homes and killing them’ You clicked the mouse and a police drawn portrait of the man came up. ‘This sketch is about twenty years old and the only thing we have to go on’ You walked around the table. 

You let your hand brush off Spencer’s shoulder as you went hoping the small gesture would help show him you were sorry, until you could talk to him properly after. ‘All together he’s killed over 24 families, for the first few years it was only one at a time’ You clicked again and the older crime scene photos came up. ‘Then he began killing in sprees of two or threes. His killing are so periodic no one knows when or where he will strike next’ You looked away from the photos a shudder going down your spine. ‘It’s never yearly but never any more than 4 years between sprees’ You began clicking again. ‘He always targets families with five people in it, a mother, killed by overdose’ You clicked and a photo of a woman in a chair came up. ‘Father, single gunshot to the head’ Again another click. ‘Two daughters’ Two more clicks and their photos came up. ‘And a boy’ Again you clicked but didn’t look at the screen. 

Rossi was flicking through the paper. ‘there was a survivor, a young girl about twenty years ago’ He looked up. You nodded. ‘Yes, that’s where the police got their sketch’ He nodded. ‘There’s a profile in here’ Morgan glanced up at you. ‘Has the BAU worked this case before?’ You shook your head clicking the remote and the screen went blank. ‘No, that profile is mine, a few years ago I heard about the murders of three more families and went down there’ JJ nodded. ‘I remember that, one day you just took off on holiday’ You shrugged. ‘I went to work the case unofficially and gave the cops this profile’ You told her.

Turning back to the screen you clicked on the new images. ‘About twenty minutes ago I got a phone call from a Detective Grenly saying he had struck again, a family of five had been found dead an hour earlier, same MO’ You clicked and the crime scene photos again came up. You flinched when the photo of the oldest girl came on the screen and turned away. And being in a room full of profilers one of them noticed, Spencer. ‘Only this time, the son, Jason Harvey fifteen, survived as the unsub was interrupted while trying to strangle him’ You crossed your arms. ‘I told the police we’d help’ The team nodded. ‘Wheels up in twenty’ Hotch said as he stood. The team nodded agreeing and the room began to clear.

You waited for them to go. ‘Spencer?’ You called just before he left the room and he turned. ‘I’m sorry about this morning’ He just crossed his arms. ‘That was the case file you had hidden in your desk wasn’t it?’ You nodded pulling out a chair and sitting. ‘Yeah, listen I am really sorry about snapping’ Spencer sighed slightly and walked back into the room uncrossing his arms. He sat taking the seat beside you. ‘I’ve never seen you react like that, and I’ve known you almost seven years’ You sighed and glanced at the lone case folder on the table, yours. ‘This case, it’s always been one I’ve known when we had a lead, I just-I wanted to get it to Hotch. I’ve tried for so long to catch this guy and I don’t know what came over me’ You closed your eyes with a long sigh

Keep reading


I usually don’t approve of Mangastream’s translations, but this part was really well done. 

Sanji’s line simply could’ve been “I want to go back to the Sunny”, but instead it’s “I want to go home to the Sunny” - what better way to remind the readers where Sanji’s heart truly belongs? 

The one word “home” truly hit home here. 

anonymous asked:

Hiya!! I love your blog your writing is amazing! I was wondering if you have time if you could maybe write one about either Betty or Jughead having problems with anxiety and one comforting the other? (Dealers choice which one has anxiety) bye!! 😊

Hey! Thanks so much! This one hits close to home!


She wasn’t breathing right, she couldn’t seem to get enough air into her lungs.

Putting her hands against the locker she shifted in her white, cheerleading sneakers.

She dropped her head to the metal locker, with an audible thud.

What was wrong with her?

Betty Cooper, perfect, polished and your very own girl next door.

So why was she standing in the middle of the empty Riverdale hallway, having one of her worst panic attacks to date?

Cheryl blossom.

The biggest bitch to ever step foot in the small town, destroying everything she touched.

That brings her back to her current predicament.

Cheryl had decided that Betty’s uniform was looking a little snug, and felt it needed to be known.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she remembered the harsh bite of Cheryl’s words.

“Maybe you need to lay off all that baking Betty dear, perhaps you should think of joining a gym, I have no room for cows on my team.”

All of her goonies had laughed, joining in on the fun and taunting her.

“Oh you’re going to cry now? What a surprise, Betty Cooper showing some emotion. Pathetic”

She briefly heard Veronica shouting at Cheryl before she was running out that door, faster than she had ever run.

Shaking her head to clear the thoughts, she choked on a sob, turning to pinch her flat stomach.

“Fuck them.”

Betty whipped around at the voice, coming face to face with Jughead jones, his face looking absolutely lethal.

“Juggie…” she whimpered, quickly swatting at the tears staining her face.

She still couldn’t catch her damn breath.

Jughead reached for her, pulling her tight against him.

“Breathe beautiful, come one you’re okay I’m right here.”

Betty looked up at him, eyes skimming around him the panic Evident In her face.

“I.. I can’t.”

He grabbed her by the shoulders

“You can. look at me. Breathe.”

Pulling her eyes to his. She finally felt the air enter her lungs.

Slouching into his arms, she panted against his chest, closing her eyes for a few minutes.

Finally she pulled away looking up to him.

“Better?” He said softly, pushing a strand of her ponytail out of her face.

She smiled weakly at him,

“Better, thank you.”

He rested his hand on her cheek.

“Don’t thank me, Cheryl’s an idiot, all of them are. You’re beautiful , there’s not a single thing about your body that you have to change. They’re jealous is all. They wish they looked like you.”

She blushed, looking down at her sneakers, before popping her head Back up.

“How did you know? Why were you at cheerleading practice?”

It was his turn to blush.

“I was just walking past, it’s not like I was watching or anything, I didn’t even think you had practice today. You never have practice on wednesdays. Not that I know when you practice..” he rambled on.

She just smiled at him,giggling at that red faced boy.
He looked up at her

“Yeah real funny bets.”

She rolled her eyes, smiling and grabbing his hand.

He glanced down at there hands and pulled her along.

“Come on, ill treat you to a burger, lord knows you could use it.”

She laughed


You dont have to be neither Syrian or Muslim to feel their pain you only need to be Human !
Aleppo, Syria in the past 8 days :
260 airstrikes,110 artillery strikes
18 missiles 86 bombs.
217 men, women and child were killed and it goes on …
Everyday Russian and govrn military airstrikes pound rebel-held areas of Aleppo which is one of the oldest cities in the world.
Airstrikes are hitting every home of innocent families, Every hospital full of childern and patients and even the food and vegetables markets which are always crowded with women and childern.
The first pic is about a girl crying infront of her mother’s body after she had been killed of an airstrike .
The world is being so blind and so silent.
Where’s the damn humanity where are the damn human rights ????

Please reblog this to let the world know whats going on in Aleppo.
Pray for Aleppo

This is what’s happening over on Disney Channels Instagram. These are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the comments that I read but these are the ones that hit home the most for me. Yeah, these three people said it, but really, we all did. This is exactly what a lot of us are saying. That middle comment? That’s exactly what was going through my head as a read and reread Michael Jacobs tweet over and over again. Those other two? Those are just two of the hundreds of things that I was thinking when I finally put my phone down and the tears started to spill over. I don’t want us to lose our hope. I don’t want to lose mine. Not when I just got it. We need to keep fighting for this show. GMW saved my life and many others. Let’s not lose our hope guys. Netflix has said that we need to keep fighting, to keep making noise. So let’s make as much noise as possible and let’s fight until we can’t fight anymore. That’s what I’m going to do. Let’s fight this together. We can win this. None of us can win this alone. But if we work together, we can.

#4 Insecure (Josh)

Request from anon: 

I was wondering if you could do one where the reader is insecure about her weight and doesn’t feel right in anything she wears and Josh helps her feel better about herself?


This one hits a little close to home, as someone who struggles with weight insecurity. Happy to write it, anon. 

I have a few requests in my inbox that I’m working on, and I’m a little behind where I wanted to be cause I’ve been way busier than anticipated, but nevertheless, feel free to send in any requests you have! Enjoy!

P.S. To anyone struggling with weight insecurity, or insecurity of any kind, just know that no matter what anybody (that includes yourself) tells you, you are incredible and amazing in every possible way. And if you ever need to talk, I’m here. You are so loved. 

Warnings: weight insecurity


You turned in the mirror to get a glimpse of your outfit from yet another angle, frowning at the reflection you saw staring back at you. This was the sixth outfit, maybe the seventh (you’d lost track somewhere along the way) you had tried on for a party you and Josh were going to this evening. 

As your eyes scan up and down your body, you couldn’t help but notice all the flaws. 

“Your thighs look much too big in that skirt,” that little voice in the back of your head whispers.

So you change. Again. And again and again and again and again. Nothing in your closet seems to fit right, no matter how many combinations you try. There’s always something wrong. Whether it was and unflattering look for your stomach, thighs, breasts, arms, it was always something. There seemed to simply be too much you for anything in your wardrobe. 

You begin to become more than just frustrated as the clock ticks past the time you and Josh had wanted to leave. The party started at around eight, but it wasn’t a formal event, so you could show up whenever, but you knew Josh was eager to get there. He had been excited about it for weeks, and had been patiently waiting in the living room for you to finish getting ready. 

As you become more and more overwhelmed with the insecurities that plagued your mind on a daily basis, you look in the mirror and try to recall soothing words from Josh. He always called you beautiful, never had a bad word to say about your body or any of the clothes you wore. He loved you for you, from your personality to every inch of your body. He made you feel loved. He made you feel wanted. He made you feel beautiful.

But in this moment, it didn’t matter. You couldn’t convince yourself that his words meant a damn thing. 

He’s gonna leave you. 

They always leave.

He’s no different. 

He doesn’t love you. 

He doesn’t love you. 

He doesn’t love you. 

How could he? 

You’re so… fat. 

You have to step back from the mirror because you can’t bear to look into it any longer. You can feel the tears threatening to spill across your cheeks before you have a chance to stop them. You try desperately to reign in this spiral of panic and self loathing, but it’s already gone too far. 

Just as you feel yourself crash onto the bed, you hear the soft rap of knuckles on the door. 

“Babe? You about ready to go?” you hear Josh ask. 

You panic, not wanting him to see you like this, a crying mess dressed in, in your eyes, such an unflattering outfit. 

“Um… Yeah, sorry. Just a second,” you manage to stutter out in response, but you already know he will be able to tell you’re crying by the shakiness in your voice. 

You hear the door creak open and you scramble up off the bed and try to make it look like you were trying to find shoes in your closet, your back now to him. There’s nothing you can do to clean up the clothes scattered around the room, the obvious aftermath of your anxious search for an outfit that didn’t make you feel so insecure. 

“Y/N,” Josh softly says. It’s not like he doesn’t know what’s going on. This has happened before.

“Yeah,” you try your hardest to reply in an enthusiastic tone. 

“Can you look at me for a sec?” he continues. 

“Um, why? I’m almost done, I’ll be out in a second, I promise,” you respond as cooly as possible, keeping the tears locked tightly in your throat as you brush past Josh and over to your necklaces, making yourself look busy. 

“Y/N…” he starts.

“What?” you say, trying to cover your obvious distress with thin sarcasm. 

He walks over to you as your hands move frantically through the jewelry, trying to distract not only Josh, but yourself. 

He grabs your wrist lightly and you finally make eye contact with his kind brown eyes. 

“Just stop for a minute,” he says in a caring voice and you can’t bear to maintain the intense eye contact. 

Your eyes meet the ground as your lip begins to wobble once again, the tears rolling down your cheeks. Josh pulls you into a tight embrace, softly running his hand up and down your spine and pressing kisses against the top of your head.

“I’m sorry, this is so stupid, I’m being so stupid,” you say after a minute, pushing him away lightly. 

“Y/N, it’s not stupid. Please, just… Talk to me. I can’t help you if you shut me out,” he says. 

“It’s just… Nothing fits right and you deserve someone who is so much prettier than me and I just feel so wrong in everything that I try on and you were so excited about his party and now I’ve gone and ruined it-” you start to ramble, but he interrupts.

“First of all, it is me that will never be good enough for you. Secondly, I promise you, you are beautiful. In every outfit you own, in every setting, lighting, and angle known to man, you are beautiful. And I know that you don’t believe me, but I promise I will repeat it every single day until you do. I will be here, for as long as it takes to make you understand how breathtakingly beautiful for are,” he says, and it eases your mind slightly, for the moment. “And as for the party, I was excited about it earlier this week, but I’m honestly kind of drained from today’s writing session, so why don’t we just stay in?” 

You feel a weight lifted off your chest at the suggestion of not going to the party. It is replaced by a smaller weight of guilt for making him cancel plans, along with some defeat that tonight you weren’t able to beat insecurity and go out, but nonetheless, relief floods your body. 

“Thank you,” is all you can whisper as he gently leads you over to your dresser and you both change into more comfortable clothes for a night of relaxing on the couch. 

You are far from self love when it comes to your body, but even so, you know that no matter what that voice in your head tells you, you’ll always have Josh there to make you feel loved. 


I hope this was kind of what you were hoping for..? If it isn’t, feel free to drop me another ask and I’ll rewrite it. :) Thanks for reading!


like i’ve only ever seen this done on one day at a time and supergirl and personally this one hits closer to home because i did figure it out in high school and i tried dating a boy who was nice and sweet but i just wasn’t into it and i’m also latina and went to a catholic high school and wore a uniform anyway that’s not the point the point is that elena alvarez is a wonderful baby gay and one day at a time is a quality show that everyone should watch