who taught you to do this in public


Public relationships are a weird thing. No one has an entitlement to anything within them but once one thing has been shared, it’s hard to know where the line is between what anyone other than you or your partner should/shouldn’t know. What I do know though is that if that relationship comes to an end, it’s hard to avoid telling people whether they have a right to know or not. Given the amount of questions I’ve already had, the longer I leave it, the worse it could be for all involved. So…here goes.

Pete and I broke up.

A couple of months ago.

It’s so much easier to explain a break up when something…happens. When someone lies, cheats, uses, abuses or even falls for someone else and you can say that’s why. That’s why we broke up. But in this case, nothing went wrong. We just simply weren’t right.

That’s really all I can and want to say on it all. Pete and I are still friends, of course. We shared two and a half incredibly magic years together, we both taught each other a lot and we’ll continue to be in each other’s lives until the end.

I just ask that you don’t ask questions and you don’t do the whole “OH BUT WHHHYYYY?! YOU WERE SO PERFECT FOR EACH OTHER!!!”…because who does that help, really? We both appreciate that in any public relationship, especially a “youtube” relationship everyone feels very *involved* but only two people were involved in our relationship: myself and Pete and we’d appreciate it if everyone could respect that. We’re both okay and moving forwards and that’s the main thing.

Much, MUCH love and thanks.


anonymous asked:

It strikes me that these types have a very "essentialist" view of learning. That the earlier you learn something, the more essential and fundamentally true it is because "even KIDS know that!" Higher levels of education aren't viewed as a nuanced revision of more basic knowledge, but as stuff that builds on and always doubles down on the absolute truth of what was taught earlier. So nuance is seen to them as "confusion" about stuff they've "understood" since they were kids.

lmao its like when dude bros argue with me about there being multiple infinities, because they don’t know dick about squat. or they think that you cant divide any number by zero and we’ve been fucking doing it a long ass time. “you can’t do that i was taught in school even kids know that” yeah but people who actually study math know that it’s not fucking true bye.


Neo-Nazi Richard Spencer's Gym Terminated His Membership After A Woman Called Him A Neo-Nazi
Woman exercises First Amendment Rights at a Nazi - business owner exercises right to deny service to hate-mongers. Nazi is somehow surprised by this.
By Tasneem Nashrulla

Seriously, if you’re not going to actually punch Nazis, this is an acceptable alternative. As long as no business owners or private property managers are telling you to be quiet or leave, it is perfectly legal to expound, at length, at Richard Spencer about how you disagree with him. There is a whole host of impolite language it is legal to use when discussing this matter.


Embarrassing people in public, talking to people who don’t want to be talked to, these are things we are taught, in general, not to do to people.

But they are not illegal.

They are part of a social compact people who support ethnic cleansing have broken.

People do not stop being under attack by Spencer’s rhetoric when they are at the gym. So he should not be free from consequences from that when he is at the gym

I’m a paramedic, but nobody taught me how to sit an 86 year old gentleman down to tell him his wife of 65 years has died in her sleep. Nobody taught me how to watch as the desire for life leaves his eyes the moment I break the earth shattering news that would change his life forever.

Nobody taught me how to accept a torrent of abuse from a complete stranger, just because they have been drinking all day and want a lift home.

Nobody taught me how to reason with the aggressive patient I’ve just met; overdosed, but needing my help to breathe.

Nobody taught me how to talk to someone so depressed that they have just slit their own wrists, panicked and called for help. Nobody taught me how to respond when they turned to me and said “I can’t even get suicide right”.

Nobody taught me how to bite my tongue when I went 2 hours over my finish time for someone who’d been ‘generally unwell’ for 24 hours.

Nobody taught me how to accept that I would miss out on things other people take for granted; birthdays, Christmas day, meals at normal times of the day, sleep.

Nobody taught me how to hold hands with a dying person as they take their last breath, how to hold back the tears because it’s not my grief.

Nobody taught be how to keep a straight face whilst a young man explains exactly what happened to the end of his hoover.

Nobody taught me how to act when a patient pulls a knife on me.

Being a paramedic is so much more than swooping in and saving lives; it’s about dealing with the most unique, challenging experiences and just going home at the end of the shift, being asked ‘how was your day’ and replying ‘fine thanks’.

Being a paramedic is about constantly giving a bit of yourself to every patient, because although it’s our 5th patient of the day and we can’t remember their name it’s their first ambulance, their loved one, their experience.

It’s about the bits that nobody taught me how…

It’s about providing pain relief and reassurance to a 90 year old lady who’s fallen and hurt her hip, and despite all the pain she turns and says “Thank you, how are you?”.

It’s about a hug that you give someone on Christmas Day because they haven’t spoken to anyone for days, they have no relatives or companions but you’ve brightened up their day.

It’s about climbing in the car next to someone and saying ‘Don’t worry, we’ll have you out of here in just a moment’

It’s about everything that we do that the media doesn’t publicize,

It’s about knowing that we couldn’t attend to the dying man because we were dealing with a drunk… who then assaulted one of us.

I’m a Paramedic, But Nobody Taught Me How…

—  Julia Cornah

Dear Straight People,

Who do you think you are?

Do you have to make it so obvious that I make you uncomfortable?

Why do I make you uncomfortable?

Do you know that makes me uncomfortable?

Now we’re both uncomfortable.

Dear Straight People,

You’re the reason we stay in the closet.

You’re the reason we even have a closet.

I don’t like closets, but you made the living room an unshared space

and now I’m feeling like a guest in my own house.

Dear Straight People,

Sexuality and gender? Two different things

combined in many different ways.

If you mismatch your socks, you understand.

Dear Hip-Hop,

Why are you fascinated with discovering gay rappers?

Gay people rap. Just like gay people ride bikes and eat tofu.

Dear Straight People,

I don’t think God has a sexual orientation,

but if she were straight, she’d be a dope ally.

Why else would she invent rainbows?

Dear Straight Women,

I mean, “Straight Women.”

Leave me the fuck alone!

Dear Straight Men,

If I’m flirting with you

it’s because I think it’s funny. Just laugh.

Dear Straight People,

I’m tired of proving that my love is authentic. So I’m calling for reparations.

When did you realize you were straight? Who taught you?

Did it happen because your parents are divorced?

Did it happen because your parents are not divorced?

Did it happen because you sniffed too much glue in 5th grade?

Dear Straight People,

Why do you have to stare at me when I’m holding

my girlfriend’s hand like I’m about to rob you?

Dear Straight People,

You make me want to fuckin’ rob you!

Dear Straight Allies,

thank you, more please!

Dear Straight Bullies,

You’re right. We don’t have the same values.

You kill everything that’s different.

I preserve it.

Tell me, what happened to

Jorge Mercado?

Sakia Gunn?

Lawrence King?

What happened to the souls alienated

in between too many high school walls,

who planned the angels of their deaths in math class,

who imagined their funerals as ticker-tape parades,

who thought the afterlife was more like an after party.

Did you notice that hate

is alive and well in too many lunch rooms,

taught in the silence of too many teachers,

passed down like second hand clothing

from too many parents.

Dear Queer Young Girl,

I see you.

You don’t want them to see you

so you change the pronouns in your love poems to “him” instead of “her.”

I used to do that.

Dear Straight People,

You make young poets make bad edits.

Dear Straight People,

Kissing my girlfriend in public without looking to see who’s around

is a luxury I do not fully have yet.

But tonight, I am drunk in my freedom,

grab her hand on the busiest street in Philadelphia,

zip my fingers into hers and press our lips firmly,

until we melt their stares into a standing ovation, imagine

that we are in a sea of smiling faces,

even when we’re not

and when we’re not,

we start shoveling,

digging deep into each other’s eyes we say,

“Hey Baby, can’t nothing stop this tonight”

because tonight, this world is broken

and we’re the only thing

that’s going to keep it together.

anonymous asked:

Hey! I love your fics. I was wondering if you could write about Maggie being scared to hold Alex's hand in public again? Bc Rick mentioned it when he said he spied on them. And that's super invasive and stuff. And Alex noticing somethings wrong and then comforting Maggie when she tells her the truth. Thanks!!

Alex is laughing, and Alex is reaching for her hand, and Maggie was laughing a moment ago, too, but then she pulls away.


She doesn’t mean to.

She doesn’t mean to, and she doesn’t want to.

She wants Alex’s touch – she craves it like she craves oxygen, it’s physically painful to not be touching her skin at every single moment – but she pulls away.

Because his memory is wiped.

He doesn’t remember.

But other people might.

Be watching.

Other men who’ve decided they’re entitled to Alex’s body, to Alex’s love. Hell, other men who’ve decided they’re entitled to hers.

And if someone can go that long, watching both of them – a detective and a secret fucking agent, for god’s sake – without either of them noticing? 

Well, you really can’t be too cautious, can you?

Because Maggie remembers.

Remembers the consequences of making her affection for women known.

But she was the one who suffered for that.

Only her.

But this time? This time was worse. Worse than her father kicking her out, worse than her mother letting him, worse than her aunt’s indifference and worse than her entire town’s disdain.

Worse, because this time, Alex was tortured. This time, Alex almost died.

So Maggie pulls away and she suppresses a scream, because she’s been reliving it all every night, every night, but god, please, not during the day, too.

Alex stops walking, and Maggie’s stomach sinks.

“Maggie?” is all Alex says, and Maggie wishes she had Kara’s ability to just take off.

Not that she’d leave Alex.

Not that she’d go anywhere without Alex.

So she has no choice. But to tell her.

She was going to tell her anyway.

But this was their first day outside the DEO med bay, their first day outside of Alex’s bedroom.

Alex had only just started smiling again.

She was going to tell her, just not… so soon.

But now she’s looking at her, with that look, with that face.

And Maggie knows that her bad habits – the keeping things from her, to protect her, she tells herself – are surfacing again.


“Maggie, what?” Alex repeats when Maggie forgets to respond.

“Not here, Alex, I – “

“Not here, what? You don’t want to tell me what’s wrong here or you don’t want to hold my hand here?”

“I – both, I – Alex, please, can we go somewhere? Somewhere private?”

But nowhere is private.

Nowhere is private, and she’s been coping with it. She doesn’t want Alex to have to, as well.

“Alright. Alright, come on, let’s go home. Can I put my arm around you?”

Maggie wants to say no. Wants to scream no.

But they’re safe.

They’re safe and she wants Alex. Wants her touch, wants her affection. Wants her warmth, wants her love.

Wants to feel her heartbeat, because she needs to remind herself it’s still beating.


Alex nods slowly, puts her arm around Maggie slowly.

Half of Maggie’s body melts in relief, and the other half stiffens in terror.

She tells her the moment they get inside.

She tells her everything.

Everything, and she tries not to cry, because this was about Alex, not her, not her, not her, and she’s sorry, she didn’t mean to make it about her, but Alex is cutting her off, kissing away her tears, framing her face with her hands because, “babe, this is about us. Us. You and me. Not just me alone. You’re allowed to be upset, you’re allowed to cry. You’re allowed to be scared.”

Maggie tries to tut. “I’m not scared.”

Alex smiles softly, and Maggie mirrors the action, grateful when Alex brings her forehead down to touch hers.

They stay there, breathing each other’s breath for a long, long moment.

“We’ll talk to Winn. About extra security measures. He’ll figure all of it out, if he hasn’t been doing it already. Okay? And in the meantime… in the meantime, or even after, if you don’t want to touch in public, we don’t have to, alright? It’s okay, Maggie, I don’t want you to be scared – “

“I don’t want you to feel like I’m… ashamed of you. Of us. Because I’m not.”

She says the first part broken. She says the last part fierce.

And Alex loves her broken. And Alex loves her fierce.

“Maggie, I know you’re not ashamed of me. Of us. You’re the one who taught me to… to be myself, Maggie. How could I ever think you’re ashamed of us?”

Maggie gulps and she blinks out burning tears. “I can’t lose you, Alex.”

“You won’t. You won’t, I promise you. I held on, remember?”

“You held on,” Maggie whispers, entire body quaking in Alex’s arms.

“It doesn’t matter how long it takes, Maggie. For you to feel safe. I’ll be here. The entire time.”

“You promise?”

“I promise. I love you, Maggie Sawyer.”

And that’s the perfect thing to say, because that will always, always, always make Maggie smile.

“I love you too, Alex Danvers. I love you so damn much.”

Learning Disabled and How The American Public School System Failed Me

Arc I - Special Ed

Okay, so I’m learning disabled. The earliest age they can actually test for that sort of thing, with the exception of speech tests which was done much earlier, was in 2nd grade, but it was apparent before then, too. I was put into multiple Special Ed type classes.

  1. Alphaphonics
  2. Some English class? Different from Alphaphonics?
  3. A Math class
  4. Speech therapy

Apart from speech therapy that I had started when I was 2 years old and continued to sometime at the end of 4th grade when I finally graduated, these classes felt…


I mean, there was definitely a need for special education, but the way my elementary school went about it, it felt absolutely useless. I can’t even remember doing any work in my English class. I remember once the teacher read to us a book, and another time the teachers wanted to see if glasses with tinted colours could help me read better, but for the most part, this “English” class was just used as a free time for us kids. We’d just hang out and play lots of games.

Alphaphonics was particularly awful due to its repetition, and it wasn’t until I was an adult trying to explain to my friend how redundant and awful it was that I discovered that it really was a bullshit class, in the sense that it was a ciriculum made by an ableist man that went around trying to sell off this bullshit to schools and not many schools took the bait, but mine did. Every single day from 2nd grade to the end of elementary school, we spent the mornings cycling through flashcards, “U. Umbrella. OO. Book. OO. Moon.” Etc. Every day. For years.

And then the math class… That class did do something. Just. Not efficiently enough, I think.

Now, before I go on in this story, I want to stress that at this time I was a lawful-good goody-goody-tooshoos that was afraid of breaking a single rule in class. I was also nearly a straight A student, with a couple of B’s hanging out here or there. Thinking about that annoying teachers pet in elementary school? Good, that was me.

Okay well, this math class, this special ed class, it was patronizing as all get out! We were so behind the regular class and where they were in math. And it wasn’t because we weren’t doing well or learning the material, it’s because the teacher kept kiddy gloves on while teaching us, constantly, and she kept us behind. We’d be working on work sheets with subtraction of larger numbers, and all of us at my table would make a 100% on it… but meanwhile, at that very moment, the regular math class, the students were already on basic division

And this was upsetting. Especially given just how often you have to be told by the grown ups around you that “You’re not stupid! You’re just special! You’re.. you’re GIFTED!” when you know that you’re just being told this to placate you, and you feel worlds behind all the “normal kids”. It doesn’t mean anything to be told that you’re not stupid, when you’re taught that grades represent your worth as a child, and you’re not even being taught the same things as the other kids your age. Being “gifted” means literally nothing when you know there’s no worth to those words.

So, being a typically quiet child who always raises their hand to speak in class and who always does the “right thing”, one day I just snapped.

Arc II - Hey! Teacher! Leave those kids alone!

I stood on the table and yelled at my special ed teachers in that math class. How DARE they treat us like we’re stupid! WE’RE NOT STUPID! We’re smart just like everyone else! We already learned this stuff months ago!! But you don’t let us move on to the next thing! We’re NOT STUPID! WE’RE NOT STUPID! STOP TREATING US LIKE WE’RE STUPID! I wanna learn what everyone else is learning! WE’RE NOT STUPID!

All of the other kids in class cheered and wooted, but the head teacher in that class was livid. I know she tried her best to make sure we didn’t feel stupid, with words like “gifted” and all that, but actions were louder than words, and I wasn’t very remorseful to her hard work. She asked me if I wanted to leave Special Ed. If I wanted to be dumped in normal class. She told me I’d fail. That I would want to come back. But I was determined, and my pride was hurt, and I wanted to be treated normal. So, she arranged it so that I was no longer in Special Ed for math. (Where was my mom in all this? I forget!)

It was 5th grade and I was very much so behind the regular class. I was given no bridge to prepare me for division. I mean, I eventually learned multiplication and division, and, my poor teacher tried to help me all she could but, I was already beginning to fall like a rock. I went from getting consistent A’s to consistent F’s. I was heartbroken.

This is when I first discovered my perfectionist tendencies, and, also, the first time those tendencies began to ruin my life. Because I couldn’t do it. And I gave up. I stopped doing my homework, first in math, then in everything. I tried what I could in class, but I never reached high. I just… gave up and quit. But I refused to go back to special ed. I’d prefer to fail on my own.

Arc III - Conspiracy

Finally, 7th grade. Middle school. I was gonna start a new here! I wouldn’t be bullied, I wouldn’t be a failure, I would do my best! Clean slate!

Well. The principle of this middle school approached me at some point. “I noticed in your papers that you were in special ed in elementary school, but then you got out? Would you like to be listed as learning disabled to make school here a little easier for you?”

Honestly, I didn’t know what that would mean, how it would be “easier”, but I knew is that I wanted nothing to do with that! I didn’t want that! I wanted to get far far away from being treated differently because of how my brain was wired. I had already been treated differently my entire life for it, and the way I was treated differently wasn’t very fun. I was scared. And prideful! I refused.

I had no idea that refusing this offer would start a little war in the school between the staff and my mom and me.

After that my grades started getting mysteriously lowered. Homework that I turned in was getting marked as “missing”. I was being sabotaged. The school kept calling in my mom to talk to her, to tell her how poor I’m doing, and try to get her to agree to have me set as Learning Disabled but, she actually respected my wishes to be free of that label. I tried to tell her, too, that “No! I really did do the work, Mom!” but she doubted me a lot. I don’t blame her.

And then, one day, my history teacher had messed up. He returned a test that we had done, all graded and everything, and I had made like, a B or something. But later, when I saw my progress report, the grade that was entered into the computer was significantly lower.

I had proof.

I showed it to my mom and she got pissed. She started showing up at the school every day to try and get them to fess up and to stop treating me this way. Meanwhile, the principle would hound me down in the halls between classes, or when I was trying to go home, to tell me how terrible I am at school and how I needed to sign up as learning disabled.

One day, in first period, I was thinking about my mom and the teachers, and all of a sudden I started breathing really hard and I couldn’t stop. It disrupted the class and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I was hyperventilating for the first time. My first panic attack before many, many more in the near and far future.

Arc IV - It All Comes Down To Money

My homeroom teacher asked me what I was thinking of, I said “Mom!” and he told me to stop thinking about it, and had the student sitting next to me walk to the nurse.

My homeroom teacher called my mom and told her to meet him after school. There, he confessed everything. He admitted that the principle was threatening all of their jobs over this. That they had meetings about how to deal with me and how to deal with my mom separately. How they were told to lie about my grades, and then tell me to my face that I really was a bad student so that I may believe them. All because the government pays more money to a public school that has learning disabled students. The more learning disabled students, the more money the school gets. And I guess when I got pulled out of special ed in elementary school, that’s how my teacher had done it, by removing me off of the list for learning disabled. I don’t understand honestly, but what I do understand, was that my principle was specifically targeting and hurting me out of greed.

After my teacher finished up explaining all of this, he said he wasn’t going to take part in it anymore, and that when the school year ends, he was going to move back to Russia and teach there, again. I really appreciated that he came forward with this at risk of his job, and that he couldn’t stand to watch this happen anymore.

I had several more panic attacks after this, including after being chased to by the principle whom, when she made it to the car I got in to go home, when the window was rolled down she stuck her head in just to continue telling me how poor of a student I was.

But it didn’t matter. Now that we knew what was going on, we would fix it.

And Mom pulled me out in that first semester and home schooled me for the rest of my middle school days.

Arc V - But the damage had been done

That was elementary school and middle school. I was sent back to public school for high school because my mom felt there were so many missed opportunities if I stayed home schooled, things she couldn’t teach me, and interactions I’d never have. I was doing very well being taught one-on-one and I learned years worth of material per semester. But- high school had art class… sooooooo…..

Unfortunately though, I just couldn’t do as well in a public setting, and I started slipping through the cracks again. It’s incredibly disheartening to know that you were the only one who cared about your German class, and you were also the only one who failed it, for example. It wasn’t that long after, when I started making all F’s and C’s again (there aren’t D’s in Texas) that I was approached and was given the offer again.

“If we label you as learning disabled, then you’ll need less credits to graduate with and you’ll be given more time during tests.”

And for everything I worked for to be cleared of that, for everything my mom did to protect me from this, I took the offer, and then continued to fail in school, but now properly as a learning disabled kid.

I had already forgotten how to do well in school, after all. And whenever I tried, and I failed, I’d just continue to fail cause I’d give up like the perfectionist I became after leaving special ed.

Public school just really isn’t designed for people like me, which is why people with some of my disabilities have such a high ratio of dropping out of school. We’re set up for failure from our early years. Even if I hadn’t left special ed, what do you think happened to all the kids int here that were behind that were being dropped in schools that didn’t have those classes? I don’t know. I mean, I can’t justify it. Like, even if I say “It’s my fault for leaving special ed”, I was also a kid. Like, 10 years old! It shouldn’t be my fault for wanting to be treated like a normal human being and doing everything in my power for that result.

I could also say it’s my fault for just not trying hard enough, but, I also can’t justify saying that, either! Heh. Cause my behavior was very much so learned.

Anyway, I graduated by the skin of my teeth through a computer remedial class and that’s better than what my mom had and I feel really fortunate for graduating at all.

anonymous asked:

Have you heard about the svt issues about the rumors spreading that svt said that carats are money makers? I know it's not true... Has pledis heard of this? 😢😢😢😢😭 I'm so sadddd

Hello! As a carat to another carat, let me ask you this: Do you genuinely think Seventeen have ever done anything, anything at all, that would make you think, Hey, I don’t think they’re treating us very well? Because I don’t think that has ever crossed my mind. Which should give you some peace of mind about our boys and their attitude towards carats. 

Seventeen love us a hell lot. They worked hard, to the point of Wonwoo’s health suffering, last year just so they could give us one full length album, a repackaged album, an extended play, an entire tour, went on multiple shows, constantly did vapps, multiple fansigns and concerts. Just for us. They’ve told us time and time again that they always put us first. They’re willing to share their music, talent, time and thoughts with us and they work hard to always show us the best sides of themselves. They’re a group of boys who are crazy passionate about their job, and have prioritised being an idol, loving their fans and being a Seventeen member on top of their personal lives. As idols, they have also been taught how to handle themselves in public, in front of a camera, how to interact with fans, etc. Do you really think they would say something as careless as that? Even if they did think it, which I really highly doubt, they would be smarter than to actually say it aloud. They’ve come this far, it’d be pure stupidity to voice careless thoughts like that (WHICH I DOUBT THEY’D EVER SAY OR THINK). So LOL good one, antis, stop trying to find a fault with Seventeen because I promise you really wouldn’t be able to find anything for now. 

In case you’re still upset, I ask you to remember that one time during their Going Seventeen showcase when Seokmin cried because he was so grateful for Carats’ love. I ask you to remember when during a vapp, they asked us not to believe weird rumours and trust them. I ask you to remember their countless sleepless nights, practicing the same choreography hundreds of times, putting their work before their health. I ask you to remember how much Seventeen love us. So please don’t worry too much! Don’t let baseless accusations ruin the image the boys have built for almost two years of debut. Don’t let negative false rumours shake your faith in Seventeen. 

Pledis has seen the rumours, and they have addressed it here, and a translation of it can be found here. In case you heard dumb rumours about svt throwing fan letters away, please read this. I have no idea what else is circulating, but please please remember how genuine our boys are. Let’s have faith and put our trust in them because so far, they’ve never done anything to disappoint us or break our trust. 

I hope you feel better after reading this ♡

It is ridiculous to ever be envious of another person’s lot. Don’t ever think that the president of the United States is any more important than a waiter in a restaurant. If G-d is with us in our mission, then one person’s mission cannot be more important than another’s, because everyone’s mission is actually G-d’s mission.

Real success does not depend on how much we accomplish on earth. And it does not have anything to do with how much attention the accomplishment gains in the public eye. What really matters is your intention and the quality of your deeds. Did you put your soul into your mission and live your life for G-d’s sake, seeking to grow, striving to become better, concerned about improving yourself and the world?

The great Torah sages taught: I am a creation and my friend (even one who is uneducated) is a creation. Just as he is not an expert in what I do, I am not an expert in what he does. Do not think that I do more and he does less. That is incorrect. It does not matter whether he accomplishes seemingly big deeds or little ones. What really matters is whether his intentions are for the sake of heaven.

—  Rabbi David Aaron
Listen, white friends and family:

There are nazis in our streets. There are white supremacists, eugenicists, and christian dominionists in our government.


Antisemitism is alive and well, and leftists are guilty of it too. If you don’t have any jewish friends, reach out to your local synagogue and ask what you can do to help.

While you’re at it, reach out to your local mosque and your local sikh temple.

Reach out to your local black or latinx community center. Reach out to your local lgbtq+ youth center. Reach out to your local disability advocacy group.

Maybe they need donations, volunteers, food or whatever else.  

Talk to your friends and neighbors who are immigrants, who belong to religious and ethnic minorities, who are disabled, who are gay and trans.

Tell them you’ll protect them, and BE READY TO DO IT. That could literally mean hiding people in your home, accompanying them out in public sometimes or literally standing between them and violence.

Challenge racist “jokes,” don’t contribute to the silence that lets white supremacists pass themselves off as decent people with political views.

You don’t have to mask up and make molotovs to resist the rising tide of fascism. But you can’t sit idly by and hope it goes away anymore either.

We are americans. We were taught that that means something good and noble. And even though our history is blackened and bloody, our future doesn’t have to be. If you think you’re a patriot, time to step up and act like it.

Protect your people, and that means all of them.

It feels weird when you grow up and realize that your momma raised you with more manners than a lot of people have. 

Like yesterday, was upstairs at work, and there was some lady letting her kids use the employee restrooms, but she wasn’t WITH them to supervise, she was down the stairs. I overhear the girl leaning out, telling her mom that the little boy had peed on the floor. I guess maybe I should have called maintenance, but I had this thought that she’d tell someone, or maybe clean it herself…But later, I had to take a bathroom break, and I went up there, and there was still pee on the floor. Maintenance guy, who was nearby, didn’t know til I told him. 

So this lady just let her kid pee on the floor and didn’t give a shit enough to actually alert an employee to have it cleaned up, or do it herself.

And here my ass is, instinctively giving her the benefit of the doubt to act on her own and take responsibility for her kid’s fluids. Don’t know why I bother. 

Also, just because you’re in public, and there is someone “to do that job for you” doesn’t mean you should abdicate all responsibility for yourself. 

My mom taught me better than that.

So, I’ve said this before, but I think it’s super important.

My BA is in Urban Planning. Part of being a planner is talking with communities and making sure that everyone gets a say in how their area looks.

And part of dealing with the general public like that is making sure that you don’t end up excluding oppressed/minority groups accidentally.

Like, it’s stressed that social skills are NOT universal and what may seem polite to you could be incredibly rude/intimidating to, say, an immigrant whose culture has different social skills.

This is a problem, because it puts them off contributing to the project, and you lose a segment of the population who are already underrepresented.

And you know what I was taught to do?

Not be an asshole to them over their different social skills. To be mindful of not misinterpreting things. To be mindful of how my own social skills may be clashing with theirs.

Like, I already knew all of this because I’d been dealing with allistics for years, but my allistic peers were also taught this.

Anyone who deals with people from other cultures has to learn this skill. Ethnographers have written entire books on the subject.

So why the hell do allistic people find the concept of viewing autistic people through this lens so damn difficult?

anonymous asked:

Hey! Do you have any advice for public speaking? I'm in high school and I really want to be a physician, but my stage fright is terrible and I'm worried it'll seriously hurt me if I want to enter medicine.

Hi anon, I do! Mostly because I used to be SO TERRIFIED of public speaking. I still get a bit nervous, but thanks to a lot of guidance and trial and error, I’m getting better. 

I’ll start by saying it won’t seriously hurt your ability to get into medicine; no part of the application will evaluate your public speaking skills. However, building the confidence and skill of public speaking is helpful to every profession, no matter what. 

Here are somethings that have really helped me over the years!

1) Practice. A lot. I practice all my public speaking things, short or long. I will take aloud to myself, to toys, to my friends, to my classmates. I time myself to make sure I don’t go long (because I’m a rambler)

2) SLOW. DOWN. When I get nervous, I talk fast. I make it a point to remind myself to take breaths and slow down consciously. I also remind myself to enunciate more than I would during an average conversation. That way, I won’t sound like I’m mumbling quickly. 

3) Make opportunities to do public speaking. Public speaking class? I took it. Debate team? I signed up. Drama/acting classes? I took them. Singing classes? Yeah that helped my public speaking too! I’m at baseline shy and self-conscious and I have spent years cultivating the helpful aspects of extroversion and dispelling my self-consciousness. Doing these things put me out there and taught me how to be more comfortable when the eyes were on me, and they have helped my public speaking as well.

4) Learn from others. Ask those who are good at it what they do. Watch you tube videos, read books. Do the research, then pick and try strategies that sound interesting to you!

Any other advice out there for our anon?


Originally posted by teamunderoos

Peter Parker x Reader


Prompt: Could you do a Peter Parker x Reader where you’re on different sides in Civil War, and you keep sneaking around so you can be together.

Note: This is hella cute. I love my baby. So, this is kind of reminiscent of a certain scene from Winter Soldier. I think you’ll like it.

Warnings: Potential CIVIL WAR SPOILERS. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. Also, a lil bit of swearing.

Being a teenager in love is a troublesome task no matter the situation. However, being a teenage superhero dating another teenage superhero tends to complicates things a bit more. Add the fact that one of you is wanted by half of the Avengers for pretty much going against the government and the law, and you have a hot mess. And as if things couldn’t get any worse for you, one of America’s most wanted criminals, you were dating someone from the other team.

You got the text from Peter as soon as he got to the mall. Your time together was short and sweet, and you had to make it count. So there you were, hiding behind a pillar in the mall wearing a hoodie and shades, staring at your phone like almost everyone else who was present.

You here? the text read. You sent a reply as fast as your fingers could type it.

Behind the pillar.

You felt a tap on your shoulder and jumped, surprised and scared, but it was only Peter. You hugged him tight, holding him close. He pulled you to his chest. You hadn’t seen eachother in weeks. Steve didn’t know you were out and you didn’t have much time before he would notice. Tony, on the other hand, didn’t even know that you and Peter were seeing eachother, let alone out on a semi-date at the moment.

“I missed you so much,” Peter whispered, afraid that if he let go, he might never see you again.

“I missed you too,” You replied.

“So what’s the plan?” Peter asked.

“Um, I don’t know. What if we-” You looked at your phone, reading an incoming message. “Shit.”


“Wanda’s here. And she’s with Steve and Sam.”

“Shit.” Peter agreed. His phone buzzed. “Uh-oh.”


“Mr. Stark is here too.”

“God, could this day get any worse?” You asked, staring at the ceiling. “But hey, at least I got to see you for a few seconds.”

“Maybe not.” Peter said, wearing his thinking face. “Follow me.” He took your hand and led you through the mall, headed towards the theater. You stood in line with him, waiting to get tickets.

“What’s the big idea, Pete?”

“Where’s the last place they would look for us?”

“In plain sight,” You realized what he had planned. It didn’t take long for you to get to the front of the line and buy your tickets. As soon as you had them, you slipped into the theater together, taking a seat near the middle.

“So we just wait here for them to find us.” Peter said, taking your hand and rubbing it with his thumb. “And when they get here, we’ll distract them.”

“Who did you train with, Natasha Romanov?” You teased. Nat had taught you this as soon as you had joined the team, long before the split. You were glad to finally put the tactic to use.


It was about halfway through the movie that Steve and Sam walked into the theater. You squeezed Peter’s hand in panic. He looked to you. His heart was racing, but he tried not to let you see it. His brown eyes searched yours for a few moments, waiting.

“What do we do?”

“Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable,” You bit your lip before leaning forward and pressing your lips to his. His eyes widened in shock before drifting shut. He pushed up the armrest between you and pulled you close to him, holding your hips gently. His lips were so soft, so careful. He didn’t want to screw up your first kiss.

When you pulled away, breathless but very content, you looked to see if Steve and Sam were still there. Luckily, they had left. You sighed in relief, resting your head on Peter’s shoulder.

“Hey (Y/N),” Peter whispered, his hand rubbing your shoulder.


“If they come back, will you kiss me again?”

“Yeah,” You nodded. He laughed.

“Will you kiss me even if they don’t come back?” He asked with a cheeky smile. You laughed softly as you brought your hands back up to his cheeks.

“Do you even have to ask?”

anonymous asked:

I just have a question, what does "REG" stand for and what is "REG culture"? I've never heard of it before so I'd like to know please. Thank you in advance!

REG stands for ‘Reactionary Exclusionist Gatekeepers’.  Here’s a pretty solid definition of them. and here’s what I wrote about them a little while ago.

REGs are all about setting strict standards for who qualifies to belong to the queer club - but they don’t call it ‘queer’ anymore because that’s too inclusionist. A strict REG maintains that people who are genderqueer, nonbinary, fall on the ace spectrum, or otherwise don’t neatly slot into the LGBT acronym ‘don’t count’ as part of the LGBT community. Most REGs aren’t that strict and will begrudgingly let some nb/ace people into the LGBT party, but only if they meet arbitrary standards set by the REG - being gay ‘enough’ or trans ‘enough’.

REGs are the source of the ‘queer is and always has been a slur’ narrative - even though back in real life, the term ‘queer’ is so reclaimed that we have Queer Studies in colleges and ‘We’re here, we’re queer, get used to it’ was an LGBTQIAP* slogan.  The term ‘queer’ is too fuzzy for a REG to be able to exclude people from using it.

REG interests dovetail neatly with those of TERFs and SWERFs because they too like to redefine people against their will and decide what part of the queer pie they get to claim (if any). Together they form a large, nasty group of queer history revisionists who have successfully altered the tumblr social justice scene to near unrecognizability.

When I refer to ‘REG culture’ I’m referring to what REG prevalence has led to: the widespread belief that:

  • it is the job of the public to define what it means to be a member of various groups;
  • (on the other hand, group members do not have the right to define this for themselves); 
  • that the public must vet the qualifications of anyone claiming to be part of any group, and 
  • that if someone is found to be wanting by a public vetting process, it is the job of the public to punish the faker.

In my observation, anti culture is largely cooked in this gatekeeper oven: when you’ve been taught that social justice is all about determining who is worthy of your protection, and you think shipping is all about social justice, of course you’re going to apply the same standards to fandom that you do to sexual and gender identity!  They determine who belongs where and routinely punish anyone that they disapprove of, and demand that any information they want to ‘properly’ judge any individual be made public for their consumption.

tl;dr, antis are what you get when REGs dominate a poorly-organized fandom space full of young people who really want to be woke and unproblematic.

I hope this helps.

anonymous asked:

Are you self-taught or did you go to a school. And if you went to a school, how'd you describe your experiences?

Self-taught, started the whole drawing thing/simultaneously disappointing my family (LMAO nah, jk) in middle school, also known as weeb hell/heaven (depends on who’s asking)

went to a normal public high school, which I think contributed to improvement because nothing was really rigid there when it came to art curriculum, so I could basically do whatever I wanted. was great, umf boy, do I miss that


(TW: self harm and depression mentioned)

Okay.. I never thought I’d type this out but I went on a Connor Franta marathon and his coming out video played and I’m not confident enough to make a video so
I will write this out as a small late Christmas present for anyone that feels alone.

My name is Sammie and I’m 15 and here’s my story of figuring out my sexuality and everything in between that.

I was raised put into a Catholic school by my grandparents and in 1st grade something happened that I didn’t understand.

In the school across from the library was the 8th grade hallway and as I was leaving the library one day in 1st grade I saw two boys leaving the gym which was next to the 8th graders lockers giggling and they went to their lockers to get something I’m guessing I can’t really remember since it was over 9 years ago and when one of the boys opened his locker a few book fell out so his friend yanked him back by his waist so it wouldn’t hit him in the head and that is when another boy in the hall yelled a word I had never heard before “GAY!” And I saw this pure look of panic on the boys faces and I thought at the age of 6 that whatever “gay” was I didn’t want to be it if it resulted in that. That was in 2006 or 7

I never thought about it again till 2009 when I was watching some award show with my parents and Katy perry came on and sang her song “I kissed a girl.” And I was so confused 9 year old me was staring at the screen listening to a song about a girl kissing another girl. I had never heard of that before and I asked a question to my dad and she said that when a boy likes a boy or a girl likes a girl that makes them gay. And that word made me remember everything that happened that day in 1st grade and I sat there and just nodded.

In 4th grade someone wrote on the wall in the bathroom that someone said that I was gay and I remember my teacher saying that I was making it up to get attention and to go back to class and I had whispers going on about me and I dealt with it till 5th grade and after that year I was put into public school for my 6th grade year

But it was lot harder from here on out

I had started to hit puberty around 12 which was in 2012 and I was really questioning things now like why I looked at girls more then I did at guys and It was driving me crazy and well in 2012 glee did an show called crazily enough “I kissed a girl.” I actually didn’t know this was the name of that episode till I looked it up for the timeline of this story but I digress.

One of the characters on the show in case you haven’t seen it was outed to the school before she was ready that she was in love with her best friend and she said in the show that she had told her parents and they were fine with it and I thought “Oh maybe parents don’t care.” But then it went to the scene with the characters grandmother and she told her and she kicked her out of the house and I remember leaving the room and going to my bedroom and just sobbing. I couldn’t stand the thought of my grandparents hating me.

Then 2013 and 2014 was really hard for because I tried to push it away as hard as I could even told my friends I had a crush on a guy in my class. I even dated a guy just to see if I could do it but I couldn’t it felt so wrong to me and that terrified me and I started getting very depressed.

But I’m going to talk about a day in 2013 August 7th 2013. 7 days before my 13th birthday. A little guy named Troye Sivan that I had been watching for about 5 months at the time uploaded a video that said “Coming out.” And I watched it and he just seemed so happy to say it and he said one line in it that just hit me very hard he said “My aim on this channel is too make you guys smile and make you guys laugh and that’s never going to change. I’m still going to make the same videos. I’m still the same Troye. This is just some new information about Troye.”

And that hit me hard for some reason and he was 100% right about that. No matter what sexuality I had I would still be me. I wouldn’t become a whole different person and then 2013 and 2014 went on.

School for harder, I was still questioning a lot, I was finding out more about sexualities and also questioning my religion and I was seriously depressed and around March 2014 I start self harming which was the worst choice I ever made but this is important to story.

I started question certain things like how people would say “the bible says Adam and Eve not Adam and Steve.” And other things like that really messed with me.

In May of 2014 I decided I defiantly liked girls.

In July I came out to a close friend of mine and she said it changed nothing and she hugged and said it was great so I decided to tell some other of my friends and I got a terrible reaction from one person that I won’t mention their name but it was terrible and my mom came in me trying to hurt myself over it. (AGAIN DO NOT DO THIS)

And she took me outside and told me tell her what was wrong and after holding something in since literally 2007 I just started sobbing and told her everything and she got up and hugged me and told me that I was her daughter and that I could like trees and that she would love me no matter what and I felt this sense of security run over me and I haven’t harmed since then.

And my life was a lot better for the rest of the year

Then on December 8th 2014. The most moving coming out video I have ever personally watched came out and it was by Connor Franta. I watched it and I remember crying for an hour because everything he said I could relate too. I never wanted to hug someone as much as I wanted to hug Connor that day. His video moved me and made me feel so much more happy in my skin.

Then 2015 came and more people I watched started coming out including Joey Graceffa and Ingrid Nelson. I told my dads mom and my cousin and they both said it was perfectly fine. Unfortunately my moms parents and my dad are not as supportive of the topic so I have not come out to them because I’m not ready but what I have learned over the years is this

You can not change who you are. You are born this way. You’re not a freak, you are not a monster. You are a human that happens to love another human who identifies as the same gender you do. That’s perfectly okay. Remember you were taught that what is on the inside is what counts right? That doesn’t change when it goes to what sexual organs they have. You can still have children if you want them, you can still hold hands in public, you can still go on cute dates, nothing changes. As Connor said in his video You are you and you should love that person.

This was very hard for me to write but I wanted anyone who felt alone this holiday or that feel alone about something like this whether you are


You are valid. You are loved and you deserve love and you will find it. It is okay to be who you are and I hope this helps at least one person. You are not alone.

I’m actually scared to post this but here we go..


You crossed your arms and rolled your eyes as Dean and Sam cackled and as Cas looked on with an approving smile.

“W-wait, did you have the skirts and blazers?” Dean choked out.

“We had ties, too,” you sighed, and that caused him to lean forward again and shake with laughter.

Cas nodded.  “Good.  It’s nice to hear that some children grew up with faith.”  Whether he did on purpose or not, he gave a pointed look at the brothers, and Sam cleared his throat.

“So how was Catholic school?  Did you have to go to church once a week?” he asked.  Sam, after getting over the shock and apparent hilarity at the school you went to from first grade through high school, seemed genuinely interested to hear.  You weren’t sure what possessed you to tell them this, but his curiosity made it less painful.

“Yeah, once a week up until high school.  Then, it was only on special occasions.”  With a smirk, you added, “Why do you think I cream your asses when it comes to Latin?”

“You took Latin classes?” Dean asked, his eyebrows raised and a smile forming on his face.

“It was awful, and the only thing I remember from that class is how to say the ‘Hail Mary’ and ‘Our Father’ in Latin.  We used to have competitions on who could say it the fastest,” you admitted.  “And that class was hard considering it was taught for middle school kids.”

Sam nodded, and then hesitated like he was almost embarrassed of his next question.  “I’ve gotta ask, where did the short skirt stereotype come from?”

You pulled a face, rolled your eyes, and made a disgusted ugh sound.  “Oh, please, do you know how many kids from the local public schools would ridicule me?  The only reason anyone’s skirt was short was because those things were forty bucks a piece, and by senior year, who wants to buy new ones?  And, sure, some girls rolled them up, but can you blame them?  Those pleated skirts were not attractive.”

“Ooh, getting defensive, I see.  Don’t get your thigh socks in a twist,” Dean teased, and you held up a hand with an open mouth.

“No, no, no, thigh socks were scandalous!  The socks had to be below your knees, because God-forbid you cover more of your legs.”  You couldn’t help but laugh after saying that.  “Man, those rules were weird.”

“I don’t think my Father cares whether or not you wear your socks above or below your knees,” Cas commented, a confused expression on his face.

“See?  He gets it.  Catholic school was weird.”

There was a lull in the conversation before Sam asked, “So… how fast can you say the ‘Hail Mary’?”

A grin took over your face, and you took a deep breath, ready to test yourself to see how much you remembered starting with Ave Maria.

i-hit-ouiser-boudreaux  asked:

You can't tease Jonathan carnahan headcanons and then not share. That's mean

well, because I am never mean:

1) Jonathan and Evie’s parents are dead by the time Evie enters adolescence - their absence sudden and aching. At 19, he’s old enough that she is allowed to remain in his care, and they are both thankful for it. To be separated from his baby sister… he’s not sure he could stand it. (It is only in weak moments that Jonathan admits that he hardly knows anything of taking care of himself, let alone a teenage girl.) The two of them have always been close, after all, sneaking into each other’s beds during thunderstorms, and really, the nights spent in their parents’ now empty estate are not so different from that. Evie still fits nicely into the crook of her brother’s shoulder and when she wraps her thin arms around him, Jonathan swears he will protect her from all things.

2) Suitable matches are made for him; of course they are. The Carnahans are members of polite society, aren’t they? And even if the stipend allowed he and Evie from their parents’ estate will only last so long, the family name still carries some weight. So it is that at least once a season, he must put off some potential match - a young girl, usually pretty, always wealthy, and on rare occasions, even interesting.

Marrying would be for the good of the family, his great-aunt tells him, and Jonathan supposes it is true. But when he looks into the dark eyes of his sister, he can’t help but think their home is complete as it is.

3) He doesn’t mean to start the drinking; really he doesn’t. Jonathan is a popular bloke, well-liked, with friends that appreciate his good humor and easy charity, and once Evie is of an age that she is expected to join the other society girls (all bland in comparison to his Evie, but he cannot pick her friends, alas, nor can she join his companions in their endeavors), he is presented with a myriad of ways in which he might while away his time.

Of all his potential pastimes, the bourbon quickly becomes his favorite. Or perhaps the gin - there’s something he likes about the floral notes that bloom on his tongue. The particulars of the spirit in question, he soon realizes, are less important than the following amnesia of the fact that he is entirely responsible for his sister’s well-being. (That he just might be failing horribly.)

4) Jonathan doesn’t hate Rick - in fact, the man would make a right good drinking buddy, he suspects, if he wasn’t courting his baby sister. But the fact is, O'Connell is courting his baby sister, so all the qualities Jonathan would otherwise admire in the man instead terrify him. Not long after Hamunaptra, Jonathan sits him down for a good old fashioned British talking to, in which he explains that if O'Connell does so much as upset his Evie, he’ll be forced to take matters into his own hands.

(Of course they both know how easily O'Connell could kill him and make it look like an accident, but this is tradition dammit - and Jonathan will be damned if he doesn’t get at least one part of this whole big brother thing right.)

5) (Once, Jonathan manages to get himself beaten to a bloody pulp because his card tricks are never as practiced as they might be when he’s had too much to drink. It’s Rick - not O'Connell, Rick - who finds him outside the manor and cleans him up enough that Evie won’t be horrified at the sight of his face. Of course Evie is as bright as they come, and as she nurses him the next morning, the sad look on her face tells Jonathan that she knows. But it’s because of Rick that they never have to talk about it.

Jonathan never thinks of Rick quite the same way after that.)

6) When Rick and Evie marry, as Jonathan always knew they would, it is he who gives her away at the wedding. Jonathan’s hands are shaking as they hold her elbow - he knows he will have to let go, the thing he doesn’t know is how to do so. This is Evelyn, his Evelyn - the girl who spent countless nights tucked against him, who came to him crying when her manuscripts were first rejected for publication, who taught him what it is to be a man at all, for as bloody awful as he is at it.

It takes him by surprise when, upon reaching the altar, it is Evie who bursts into tears and throws her arms around him so hard he stumbles back under her weight. “Thank you,” she whispers, her face pressed into his shoulder. As Jonathan runs his hands comfortingly over her back, it is easy to forget she is not 13 years old again.

“No, old mum,” he says, his eyes burning, “thank you. For everything.”

7) Jonathan never moves out of their shared manor, and over morning tea, even Rick only half-pretends he wishes it were otherwise.