white out

tomorrow...

We had to turn on a space heater in my office and that made me think of “White Out’, so here’s some post-ice wall cuddling… TGIF!


There’s a low murmur coming from the kitchen, the quiet but firm voice of Mary Margaret helping to soothe Elsa’s guilt over all that has occurred and her fears of a sister possibly lost forever. Emma knows that this is where she should be stepping up as Savior, but she’s cold and tired and honestly – completely unwilling to pull back from the comfort of Killian’s arms. That damn ice wall might still be up on the edge of town, but the one she’s been keeping up between her and Killian is currently nowhere to be found.

He shuffles slightly and she feels a gentle tug as a few strands of her hair get snagged by the short scruff of his beard. It’s in that moment that she realizes just how tangled up they are and her fatigue-clouded brain begins to try to make sense of how that could be. With her alone in the chair, he must be poised on his knee on the hardwood floor and has been since they all got back to the loft. There’s no way his knee isn’t killing him, but he hasn’t complained and has only jostled her twice, both times moving his body even closer. The thought of the obvious pain he must be in just to hold her has her leaning her head further into his coat to hide the blush creeping over her cheeks.

She’s given him the opening to show her the depth of the affection he feels for her without fear of her rebuff and the strength of it is warming her faster than the pile of blankets draped over her lap. She should let him get up; even if she knows in her heart he doesn’t want to leave her side. What’s even clearer is how much she doesn’t want him to go. She almost died tonight. He could die tomorrow. It’s just the course her life has been set upon and there’s still a needling part of her that wants to push him away before it’s too late. It’s selfish, indulgent, and potentially harmful to them both, but she just wants him here, close, in this fragile bubble of warmth and unguarded need.

“Hey…”

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Your job as an ally is to step aside and give the mic to a member of an oppressed community, because they have first hand experience with the oppression they face.

Your job is not to run across stage with sparklers screaming shit like “not all [privileged group]” “I don’t see color” “we’re all just human” and “all lives matter.”

You are helping no one and you don’t get a gold star for taking up our stage.

white on black on red

marker, white-out, ink pen on sketchbook paper


”The Nixon campaign in 1968, and the Nixon White House after that, had two enemies: the antiwar left and black people. You understand what I’m saying? We knew we couldn’t make it illegal to be either against the war or black, but by getting the public to associate the hippies with marijuana and blacks with heroin, and then criminalizing both heavily, we could disrupt those communities. We could arrest their leaders, raid their homes, break up their meetings, and vilify them night after night on the evening news. Did we know we were lying about the drugs? Of course we did.”

- John Ehrlichman, Nixon’s central domestic advisor

I watched 13th, by Ava DuVernay (producer of Selma), at the IFC a few days ago, and it made me aware of so many wrongs in both our politicians and prison systems. Prison is the newest incarnation of slavery, and the “War on Drugs” effectively was invented to implement it. Drugs should be a health issue, not a crime issue, and the “War on Drugs” was specifically designed to target POC, and send them long sentences in prison to anguish in both physically and psychologically damaging environments instead of rehabilitating them. To add to that, many American industries and corporations fund prison and profit off prison populations, and prison labor is one of the largest and cheapest (almost free) ways to run a farm, ranch, or factory in sweatshop-like conditions. 

Please check out this documentary if its showing in a theater near you; I also believe it is on Netflix.