#internalised racism tw

[whatsbehindthefacade]

It's not the first time this has happened, where Riff has just seemed to go walkabout with little in the way of warning or explanation. She'd have thought it to maybe just be Jet business, except she's talked to Tony, and he knows nothing about it. Sure, they've still got the usual odd turf dispute, but as it stands they're not currently dealing with too much trouble. Which means whatever Riff's got himself involved with, it's nothing to do with the Jets. On one hand, it's a little bit of relief that he doesn't seem to be getting into too much trouble, but on the other hand, there's a part of her concerned that he might be involved in something worse, though what she doesn't know.

Whatever it is, Riff's keeping it close to his chest. She doesn't begrudge him his secrets, god knows they all have a few, but she just wishes he'd give her a bit of a heads up, and maybe a reassurance that he wasn't in danger. It's bad enough every time she starts hearing them talk about rumbles, and her heart's in her mouth till they come home.

"Four hours later when I already got home," she points out. Sighing she pushes him towards the bed, "Sit down before you hurt yourself, I'll get you a glass of water." It gives her the chance to collect herself too. She's tired and upset and a little bit humiliated and she wishes she knew what was going on, but it seems unlikely an answer will come. Certainly not tonight anyway.

Grabbing the glass, she shuffles back to her room, closing the door with a quiet snap behind her. The sweater she's wearing over her nightclothes is actually one of his, the sleeves a little too long (she'd been mad at him when she got home, is still a little mad, but wearing his sweater always helps her sleep) and the collar a little baggy, but it's cosy. Quietly, she passes him the glass.

"I missed you."

@heygutlcss asked: ❛  can we pretend this never happened?  ❜ (Riff for Velma)

Quietly, Velma is fuming.

Riff had promised her dancing. He'd promised he would meet her at the gym, and they'd dance the night away, just as they've done countless times before. It's always been one of her favourite things, getting dressed up for him, the two of them dancing and dancing until they've no other choice but to rest for a little while, then back to dancing, before walking home and sneaking back in through the fire escape. She'd been so excited.

So she'd gotten ready, putting on her best dress and the little pin he'd so proudly presented her with, and she'd made her way to the gym. And she'd waited.

And waited.

And waited. Several guys had come up to try and ask her for a dance, but she'd turned them down, thinking that at any moment, Riff would walk through the door. She'd seen Tony and Grazie dancing, had waved at them as she'd waited. But Riff had never shown, and she hadn't missed the slightly pitying looks shot her way as she'd gathered up her jacket, and began to walk home by herself.

And now he has the gall to climb in through her bedroom window several hours later, and she folds her arms across her chest, frowning at him.

"You promised Riff. You promised me you'd be there and you just didn't show." Her words are tinged with hurt. "I ended up just sitting there all night...if you didn't want to go, you shoulda just told me."

[rc-catalog]

🖊️ FANFICTION:

All Those Wretched Things by @secret-fungi | Nova x Vesper | TW: emotional distress, mentions of religious abuse/trauma, internalised homophobia/racism, self-hate | M

Just For Tonight by @agattthaa | Nova x Vesper | T

Worries and a Gift by @mrsdmitry | Nova x Shen | TW: mention of death | G

A Carefully Crafted Persona by @mrsdmitry | Nova x Shen | TW: angst, light cursing | G

🖼️ MOODBOARDS:

WTC Moodboard by @liykaii | G

Vesper x Nova by @liykaii | G

Nova by @dxrkimpulse | G

Renato by @dxrkimpulse | G

🧵WEB WEAVING

On Religious Guilt by @webanglikethat | Nova | TW: heavy depiction of religious guilt, sin and shame, internalized moral conflict, fear of divine punishment, struggles with faith and self - worth, implied daddy issues, gore, blood, depiction of burning at the stake | M

[kawaiibarty]

my favourite fics (or fics that i remember at all)

ive been a fandom collector since i was 12 so this is basically just me trying to remember my favourite ones in... no particular order.

major exposure time:

whatsapp - yuri on ice, text fic. wattpad 100+ chapters. victuuri, otayuri, emickey, basically all of them are gay and highschool students in a gc. it made me giggle shut up

the pakhan's jewel - yuri on ice. ao3. completed, 150k words, 23 chapters. abo with alpha victor and omega yuri. arranged marriage. super smutty uhm shut up i was literally only a kid

kill your darlings - harry potter marauders. ao3, completed 303k words, 28 chapters. college au. angsty asf but not the worst, trust. jegulus, wolfstar, rosekiller

a brief history of dragons - the only fic to ever exist. ao3. 23k words, 3 chapters. completed. wolfstar. just...wolfstar. it's so good please go read it

nights after dreams - oh boy...where do i begin???? i was there since the beginning. like. you don't get it chat. 2.5 MILLION WORDS, 754 CHAPTERS, fucking ONGOING. longhaul victuuri carrying on after season 1. angst and happy and happy and angst and uGH SO FUCKING GOOD. mature rating ig

way down we go - beautiful drarry fic. werewolf harry. after the war. setting: america. ao3, completed, 109k words, 29 chapters. almost everyone is gay. lookin at you romione.

dear your holiness - fleabag vibes galore. priest remus lupin. need i say more. completed. ao3, 140k words, 12 chapters. oh it's also a band au. smutty.

blackbird - first ever drarry fic, i think. absolutely amazing. werewolf harry again. i don't remember if there's smut. WATTPAD, completed, 22 chapters. (the writer's other shit is also very good so give their profile a looksie‼️)

four to the end (series) - long haul series of the marauders through their years at hogwarts. remus pov. ongoing (book three is currently underway with a regular posting schedule). each book is about 600—700k words

only the young - jegulus, read my daughter's fic rn. deaf!regulus, coda james. need i fuckin say more???? ongoing.

bare my heart to the stars in paris - i uhm...oh...well uh yeah. it's like that sometimes. victuuri. omegaverse...ao3 type shit yk. incomplete. most likely abandoned but yeah. super smutty. a lot of smutty.

blackbird - TW WORLD WAR 2 so expect all the shit that comes with that. victuuri, completed 107k words. 7 chapters.

where the cliff meets the sea - victuuri, pirates au. explicit. ao3. again tw for many things involving that period, such as racism and homophobia

clandestine - never ever in my life cried for a fic before. anyway. jegulus. slow burn. regulus pov. trans reg. tw for a lot of internalised and external homophobia/transphobia. 142k words. completed. 47 chapters.

dragon prince and winter swan - a song of ice and fire au, victuuri, slow burn. 121k words. completed.

twist of fate - drarry, 302k words, completed, memory loss fic. fic is from 2012 chat holy camoli. super angst. 4th year type shizzle.

astra inclinant - now i know we love scorbus bUt. i raise you scorpius x james sirius. come onnnn tell me you're not tempted by best friends brother AGAIN lolz anyway it says 37/38 but im pretty sure its finished (i havent finished reading it myself but alas) 336k words yorh my bruh.

blackberry jam - wattpad fanfiction, drarry. 46 parts SO FUCKING GOOD

flowershop boy - a fucking wattpad drarry classic folks. freckled draco for life dawg

TEXT TALK ISSNXKDNSJNXJDDN WOLFSTAR DJENDKFMDMDK

beneath a big blue sky - wolfstar, side jily. ao3 completed. 10 chapters.

zanko - FUCKING BEAUTIFUL 1OOk words, 16/16, victuuri. edo period historical yup yup

um...reblog with updates???? idk

[thebisexualwreckoning]

Bruh I really should have read the tw list before starting to read this book tonight like the internalised (and externalised? Racism) and parental really hit like a fucking chair in the face. Anyway, go read The Weight of Blood is you want a Carrie retelling but ‘Carrie’ is actually a mixed race black girl dealing with extreme racism in small southern town

[whatswiththisscale]

My ex and ex friends absolutely fucked me up. I probably caused some complications too, I recognise and am not afraid to admit that. But honestly, it was probably the relationship that was fucked up and awful, not both of us. We were just incompatible and had manipulative tendencies.

I don't want to elaborate without a cut so hi!

Anyway

I need love when I'm in a relationship like that. I need reassurance and attention. I need validation. My ex gave me none of that and insisted that I was being a bad person because of my needs. I can be obsessive, but he singled me out and openly admitted that I was his favourite person etc etc etc and said he was obsessive too. He didn't want me hanging out with anyone other than him, his sister, our mutual friend (who he met before either met me, so I naturally had less of a connection and was never quite in the same level, so I felt kinda jealous), and his sister. He said he liked when I was obsessive because it made him feel safe, and that all of my behaviour was absolutely okay.

Then I asked to hold his hand.

Okay! *Two days later* No, don't do that. Why would you do that?

Then I asked to sleep over.

Of course! *One week later* Uh, that's kinda creepy. Ew. No thanks

Then I asked to hug him.

Yes, I love you! *Three hours later* God no, I hate hugs.

He always said he was uncomfortable with being touched at all. But he hugged and did everything else with his sister and our two mutual friends just fine! So why not me?

Am I too clingy? Am I too needy? Am I too obsessive?

Yeah, I was obsessive. But my ex told me it was okay and he loved that about me, then got mad at me for it. Then he told me that's most of why he loved me (that and because we're practically the same person (my initial facade that I put up to make people like me) so we must be soulmates). Then he told me he hated it. Then he gave mixed signals. Etc.

And then that group left me (at school during lunch and then proceeded to go to the mall that weekend (even though they said they cancelled it and nobody could go (they also brought along our mutual ex friend) the day before) and text me a picture and said how toxic I was and how much happier they are without me).

They left me. And believe me, I was super hypervigilant about trying to not be obsessive (while also not throwing myself into a depression, of course). And they left me.

Sure, maybe I stressed out my ex and our (now his) friends. But he never actually communicated with me clearly. And I know he'll never admit or accept that he fucked me up, too.* And I might have hurt some of them more than they hurt me. I'll never know! But a) They used to be in my life, but now they're not and that's all that matters, and b) fate probably just had it planned that we wouldn't end up together. And that's that.

But seriously, you can't know you're abusive unless you learn you probably are in your own time. Also, people who are manipulative or abusive might not be aware of it and you just can't know. They almost never are deliberately causing pain. They just can't see something most people can.

-

*Here's a list of reasons why (tw racism, appropriation of spirituality/culture/religion, abelism, terfs, controlling behaviour, just generally agitating stuff):

He genuinely believed he could turn himself Chinese by mediating and manifesting (he knows I'm a Gaelige Pagan and have been all my life and that I knew that couldn't happen. He would constantly ask if his eyes got slimmer or if he seemed like he lost weight or if his face was rounder) (he learned Chinese just because of that) (he made me get him a kimono too) (he's, like, 75% ethnically British or something, and like some part Scottish (so therefore he's allowed to just take one of my candles and do a love spell between me and some dude who's mean to me who I forced myself to 'like' because internalised homophobia and allonormativity (this was before we were officially together))

He also genuinely believed he could reality shift into any world he wanted (he almost did it!!! /s) where he could be a Chinese K-Pop idol with no mental illness and be with Harry Potter and JK Terfling

AND that you could stay in that other 'desired reality' and eventually your magic spirit twin would take over your body and you could just go back to real life whenever you wanted and you would just pick up where Spirit-Twin left off in your life (like. Click (2006) anybody??)

He ate, like, practically nothing. He was obsessed with being skinny and he would ONLY eat things that were 'healthy' like salad and he went pescatarian because of calories... BUT he swore up down left and right and all around and all the directions that he was only bordering on an eating disorder. He can't have one because, y'know... he's him and he's just so cool I guess??? Idk I tried asking him but his voice was so annoying at that point and he literally just droned on and on about how the mental hospital he ended up in (because he overdosed because his sister got mad at him at the same time we were having our first argument (for context he repeatedly accused me of starting arguments whenever we disagreed) (and if course he started said argument)) said he was bordering on one so they must be right, they're the fucking medical industry (I'm disabled and have an ed, I know for a fact that the medical industry doesn't know shit)

He didn't want me to go to my dream college. He would not let me go to my dream college. He literally seethed at the thought of me going to my dream college. Because his mom didn't like the college

He also said with pride that he had the brain of a 5 year old

He couldn't spell the word important ("Importment? Importmant? Inportment???" I kid you not) and was convinced he would move to London and go to Oxford (partly for the aesthetic of course *eyeroll*)

He believed in the word subliminal shit where you say stuff, speed it up, and put music over it, and you would just get whatever you wanted

He stole character art off of Pinterest, named them after (anime of course because he insisted he could turn Chinese) characters, gave them other characters' personalities, and called it an oc

He constantly compared himself to his 12-year-old sister who is SO skinny it's nur even funny

He thought he was Jewish because he believed in only one god. I am 25% Jewish. I'm 85% sure he knew that. I told him that's not how it works. Wow I must have started a fight. Also he thinks his parents aren't super Christian religious because they only have like 3 Christ quotes/statues/etc per room (including the outside for his dad's house) and only go to church maybe once every two months

So basically, he's a stubborn ignorant bitch <3

But yeah I digress he didn't know!! And I might have, and probably did mess him up too and I'll probably never know!

random, but I think the way people talk about abusers as hypercompetent, calculating manipulators that Know exactly what they're doing makes it easier for people to get into abusive relationships

[entiish]

void ranting under cut xox 🫶🏾 

im in my feels rn it’s been like FIFTEEN YEARS on this platform, and writing/creating/fancasting etc has been my safe space and beloooved by me for about seventeen years at this point....  and im just high and emo and reflecting so this is NO BEARING if ur following me for musings or gifs or any of my creations 💜💜 

anyway

you know whats wild?? after i was mobbed by the Toxic rpc fandom and some RP partners about a decade ago — i’m taking breakdown crying hyperventilating level of carnage i went thru — , i took a break and when i came back i took on a whole new persona (and also only rped in controlled environments) but this person who was a white aussie, or an ASSUMED white aussie by everyone around.   i think thats bc a lot of people have hella misconceptions about australia and aussies and out multiculturalism but i digress)       idk why, aside from some weird online racism trauma ig, and fear.  like so much anxiety and fear.  and i used to often play two different aliases, or id eventually cave and make a second, just so i could be my authentic self even if my face or name wasnt shared.    but i could also be my pretend self who felt safer online at that time.   and like??? its so INSANE to think about late-teen me who did that.   bc it was still me, and i was just living in this Hyper Reactionary state where i was so sure that i would be targeted again so i kept switching myself around as both protection from those people (i STILL remember their aliases to this day)   ----- but like.. in the last few years those two personas meshed ig?? so even tho ill always be Aware and on the lookout for those people, i dont find myself as an adult reaching to hide online anymore. i’ll NEVER make the mistake of sharing my actual name online again but i dont feel the protective need to split myself into two pieces or hide my race out of fear of someone recognising me as the ‘mexican aussie’ anymore  — and thats not me being an ass, we’re straight a rare breed on this platform, like supER rare. how many aussies have yall rped with fr? and how many of those were of mexican heritage?? EXACTLY. point is, its definitely obvious and im cool w that now

the catch is tho, by trying to protect myself back then i lied to a lot of people to make myself “seem” more acceptable, which is so fucked up bc A) ive ALWAYS been acceptable as i am    & B) !!!! i made myself into a liar and i hate that and i struggle w that a lot, like to this day. i am sure that these people who developed bonds with the ‘white’ me will feel hurt by my actions and that makes me feel awful bc i never meant to do that.      & C) i’m too scared to go back and pick up old muses or work i spent time in etc, rp things that ive loved so deeply bc some where played by the ‘white’ me, and the others would have been played by my more autheNtic me. (EVEN THO. THEY’RE THE SAME PERSON.) and if someone i cared about who doesnt know this happened upon it, then refer to point B.

my point is that i made a mess for myself by being driven into a place where i didnt feel safe being me.    i’m not in that mindspace anymore but the mess i made still haunts me sometimes 😓

[does-existance-exist]

Who am I?

Who does the world see me as?

In North America, I am just another white person. I am invisible. Is this better than persecution?

In Europe, I get heckled, and yelled at, and seen as a criminal purely for not being white. Is this better than being invisible?

Even in America, when I wear my family’s clothes? I get asked if I’m dressing up as a word that was used to murder my family. Is this being invisible?

But I hear about my people being murdered by police in Europe every day.

I do not fit in with my people either. I did not grow up knowing they were my people. I live in America, where we are invisible. But my family only came from Europe two generations ago. I grew up hearing first-hand accounts of murder, and persecution. Is this better than being invisible?

To be seen, it is dangerous. To be unseen is painful.

In North America, I am only ever seen as a stereotype, called by a slur. I have never worn my family’s clothes to school. The only person outside of my family to see me wearing them is my partner, who I consider my family. Is this better than being persecuted?

For years I dyed my hair, ashamed of the dark colour and texture.

For years, I refused to smile fully, despising the shape of my eyes.

For years, I tried to contour my nose, abhorring it’s shape and size.

Is this better than being persecuted?

Who am I?

I am romani.

How does the world see me?

As a “gypsy”, as a fortune teller, as a thief, as a swindler.

As nothing more than a problem that needs to be either solved or ignored.

[futurewife]

Realised lately i fell into a trap of imitating an idea of a girl I think my f/os would be interested in/find attractive which is extremely self defeating 3/10 do not recommend. i give it a 3 though because it can be beneficial to explore new things but I found overall that it made me feel not good enough and the self comparison to other girls insecurity machine spin out of control!!!!

I dont think it is wrong to take a partners preferences into account but my scramble to try and tick every box (for fictional men i might add) i think really comes from a place of fear and insecurity which is. not fun. t.swift m.irrorball etc

like did it never occur to me that there might be a chance that they could just like me at my natural default/style and people are capable of being attracted to others outside of a "type". but my problems lies in that being difficult for me to believe. like I don't think I have a winning personality or vibe so I have to repackage myself so he'll think im cute/"perfect" which NEVER ends well

there is some m.itski best american girl internalised white supremacy racism syndrome attached here too i think where i feel like i have 2 work EXTRA hard to be desirable in every other way cuz i dont have those eurocentric beauty ideals features mmm a bit messed up of me to do that to me 😬 I wish this wasnt so ingrained in me that i doubt my desirability based on race, going so far to it to impact my little made up relationships. But I want to try and be more aware of my own programming so I can actively combat it >:(

[strawbeb]

hi this is a psa that if ur not south asian u have no authority to decide what is/is not racist to us. y’all will cherry pick aspects of our cultures that u find ‘aesthetic’ and mock our accents and customs and appearances and languages and food in the same breath. i know this isn’t exclusive to south asians but none of y’all take us seriously when we talk about this and i’m sick of it. and if u have to go around asking a bunch of us if something is offensive until u find someone who says ‘i’m south asian and this doesn’t offend me’ that doesn’t make it any better. that one person doesn’t speak for a population of over 1.9 billion.

[spirallingintotheabyss]

hi. this is going to begin as an odd question, but you’re brown, aren’t you? I guess I figured you are from your previous profile picture (which you no longer have up) and it’s just nice to see someone who’s more like me (in terms of gender) and is also brown. I guess I’ve always been kind of ashamed of my skin to the point of wishing I was white (it would be easier) but I’m not and I’ll never be and it doesn’t help that the very few friends I have are white and I hate that I have this weird envy about it. but it’s just nice to know people like you exist. I’m sorry this turned into a ramble! I’ve always wanted to talk to you and I never really knew how. unrelated to you being brown, by the way.

Hi, that's ok! Yep, I am :D and yeah, even though it can be hard to find other brown non cis people, we are here!

And yeah, I was the same until a few months ago. Sometimes I still am, but I promise you anon, it gets better! It may take years, but one day you will be happy with who you are. It does suck sometimes though, but that is not either of our faults, but the fault of a system designed to hurt us. You are amazing and I am proud of you!

It's ok, I don't mind! You seem really cool and I would love to talk to you too! (Feel free to DM me or speak on anon if you want!)

[parisrp]

un — THE CHARACTER

NAME: Sanchit Hari

AGE: 27

BIRTHDAY: September 27th, 1994

GENDER/PRONOUNS: Non binary, they/them

OCCUPATION: Kitchen help at Le Meurice

BIRTHPLACE: Cochin, Kerala, India

ARRONDISSEMENT: Belleville

LENGTH OF TIME IN PARIS: four months

deux —  THEIR STORY

Trigger Warnings: death, homophobia, religion, internalised homophobia, injury, hospital, racism, xenophobia, parental neglect

When two young parents moved from a bleak future in Cochin to the busy and cold streets of Amsterdam, it was raining; a mother carried her four year old child close to her chest, and a father lunged two suitcases behind him. A whole life, and a whole future, each guarded by a tired and wet human being.

One learned Dutch as if she was simply born with the language.

The other struggled to not grow homesick with every passing day.

One never wanted to return, the other wished to share his past and homeland with his child one day.

Sanchit remembered one, but would have to wait years to learn more about the other.

 They had never gotten the chance to meet their real father. They knew he must’ve been there, and they recalled glimpses of a life in Amsterdam, rather than in the quiet rural areas of Groningen, in a city that was busy, but always quiet.

The father who raised them was a white Dutch man, and the expectations were white Dutch expectations. The mother who raised them was a modern Indian woman, and her expectations didn’t matter, for she had none for them. She only ever seemed to acknowledge her child when their father did. And usually it wasn’t a good.

Sanchit went to a school in the next town, for the family lived at the very border of the capital city of the province, and they were supposed to go to the same school their father had gone to. It might’ve been easy, it might’ve been just the youth of any other kid in a flat and rainy country. But while on tv they saw people like them, little brown kids, at school they stuck out. And sticking out wasn’t good.

They stuck out everywhere.

In Church.

At school.

At swimming.

At soccer.

In bible class.

Even in the mountain-bike classes they took, which included a lot more city boys.

There was never anywhere to hide.

Their father only once saved them, when the teacher had tripped in the hallway as a boy stuck out his foot, and her eyes had burned right through Sanchit’s brain.

When they were picked out a second time a month later, their father figured it must be true. You can’t hide behind the math when the math is sound, he would say.

Sanchit came to accept a lot of things: taking responsibility (even if it wasn’t yours to take), that boys don’t cry (even if they’re in a lot of pain), that good grades get you somewhere (even if you cheated to get them).

 Sanchit learned three important lessons as well: they were supposed to be a good boy, their faith was the only true faith, and to fall in love with boys was wrong.

Sadly those were all lessons that Sanchit couldn’t follow.

They weren’t a boy. They had known for a long time that they weren’t a boy.. To make a point, Sanchit made sure that they weren’t good. They associated with the worst kids at school, their best friends were the ones everyone shook their head at. They would smoke weed that Sanchit bought in Amsterdam every month, they would drink - when it was still legal to buy alcohol at sixteen - and they would go into the city without buying tickets.

They didn’t just believe in God. Somewhere at some point Sanchit had figured out that not everyone in India, where they were from, was Protestant. A lot of them weren’t. They found an old card in their mother’s things, a picture of a deity: Shiva. Behind their parents’ back, Sanchit researched Hinduism. They would read books at the library in the city, they would buy candles, collect tokens at flea markets, and practice Punjabi whenever the coast was clear. Faith was bigger than one being the only ‘true’ faith. And Sanchit could follow both, if they so wished.

And they fell in love with boys. At swimming practice, at soccer, at school, in bible class, and once, in church. They would look at boys, and always suffer the consequences. They would smile at boys, and always get pulled away. They only took the lesson seriously when once, when they were nineteen, they kissed a boy. When the results of something good, became one of the worst things to ever happen to them.

 When their father learned of the kiss, he had come home at a time he was usually out. The boy he’d taken in sat in front of a table, candles lit, speaking in a language he didn’t understand, lost in thought. Even while he’d never seen it with his own eyes, he could make the connection. And white hot rage would result in two people in the hospital.

 Sanchit was placed in a facility for displaced youth after two surgeries and a lawsuit. While they suffered permanent hearing loss, their father had been in the hospital for four weeks with several broken bones and an inflated lung. He suffered no damage that couldn’t be repaired, however. While Sanchit’s hearing couldn’t be restored with surgery. Instead they needed a hearing aid to at least make going through life easier.

 Sanchit lived off government support for the next few years. They learned sign language at the church, they followed an MBO study, and mostly they cooked. They cooked any recipe they got their hands on, they made any dish their housemates wanted. They sat in the kitchen for hours, collecting ingredients on Marktplaats and later Too Good To Go. They would get discount tickets for restaurants and then try to recreate the dish. They found dishes from the place they came from, and they cooked food on demand.

Sanchit had never had a dream, but a suggestion by their therapist resulted in an obsession. After every visit from their parents, Sanchit would cook. Before any big exam, Sanchit would cook. They worked part time at a vegetable market just so they had a pick at the leftovers before they went home.

At times it felt like it was all there was: they didn’t go to church anymore, they didn’t look at boys, they didn’t talk. But they cooked.

And people liked their cooking. When they were told they were getting too old to stay in the home, and when their study ended, Sanchit was offered a job. Or at least the opportunity of a job. A restaurant in Paris. They would have to start at the bottom but they could move their way up. It would be good for them.

A new city, away from the flat and rainy landscape that carried bad memories.

Into the dreamy romanticised streets of Paris.

Their mother left them a final gift before they got on the bus to their opportunity, a collection of pictures from a father they had never known, a goodbye.

And the man who had claimed to be their father left them with ‘words of wisdom’: it’s because you’re deaf. You got a pitiful deal.

Sanchit ignored him, they were free.

trois — THEIR PERSONALITY

+ cooperative, diplomatic, fair-minded

- indecisive, avoids confrontations, reluctant

PORTRAYED BY NICO.

[prompt-posts]

Sad Prompt

Odin didn't just lock Loki in a cell for rest of his life he also took asgardian skin away from him as pay back for pointing out Odin actions, Loki didn't last a day without commiting suicide, everyone except two people in asgard wasn't sad to see God of mischief gone, Frigga lost a part of herself and Thor lost half of his soul when Loki died, word got out to the nine realms regarding Odin cruelty towards his adopted son, everyone in the nine realms( except asgard and midgard) was angry with Odin cruelty but one person was the most angry was Hela, she lost everything because of Odin cruelty even her own child, Hela was going to burn the nine realms to the ground for hurting and practically killing her child once she's free

[seekingxanadu]

Why does DC fandom, especially Batfam fandom, have so many fanworks about the Batboys as “harem boys”? Do these mostly White American female fans realise the cultural history of the harem? The harem was about seclusion and discrimination, about sexual slavery, paedophilia, and literally cutting off male genitalia; so these women, girls, and, boys would not even entertain a wild thought about escaping into society. That it is about the ugliness of absolute power and NOT a place for *sensual* pleasures. Why are Eastern ways of life that might have once been a part of our landscape - in an era of kings and tight social hierarchies and rigid class systems - so appealing to Westerners? And these aren’t exactly medieval practices either. Modern sexual slavery and child sexual trafficking is just as rampant - just look at the increasing numbers of kidnapped and missing children around the world, of parents selling off their own children to stave off hunger and death, of modern extremist outfits minting money from trafficking impacted children in any of the global terrorist hotspots. 

Eg: (1) think of boys and girls in Yemen and Afghanistan, of the Kurds, Yazidis, Pashtun, and Nepalis who are trafficked in millions, (2) Batfam fandom sets these harem stories with League of Assassins which are comics-verse stand ins to these real geographical regions; and (3) most such fics focus on Dick Grayson - the canonical half-Romani character. The Romani were driven out of the plains and deserts of north-west India by Muslim invaders from Central Asia and Arabian Peninsula who sought to rape, pillage, and convert. While some fled to other parts of India, many fled north-west across current day Pakistan to Turkey & Egypt onwards to Europe to more persecutions, including the Holocaust.  

So why this fandom obsession? Why this ridiculous distance from real world issues around these subjects? I grew up in a tiny backwards mining town and there were stories of little boys stolen from the *bastis* around town. Kids playing alone while both parents went to work in the mines at dawn. They come back home at sundown to a child missing. Sometimes, the boys would show up in a few years, decked out in jewellery and make up and good clothes bringing some money for their parents in exchange for having their genitals cut off long ago so they could be performing beggars. There is NOTHING sensual about committing such violations on a human body. Even if it is a fictional character you don’t like. Can we have some real effing empathy in this fandom? 

Or perhaps a little history? Sexual slavery centered around the performing arts is a common thread across so many Asian cultures. There is nothing romantic or sensual about sexual slavery and paedophilia. FFS!!! 

[hilsonapologist]

i'd appreciate how often criminal minds tries to offset the number of times they have gay men who are serial killers with gay men who are victims or other minor characters if it wasn't for how creepy and sometimes blatantly phobic their portrayal of wlw and trans women is

[ziischeln]

(I actually meant the "marking" from the other meme. "marking: describe your tattoos,or tattoos you would like in the future?" Sorry!)

[ oH SHIT I DIDN’T EVEN SEE THAT I’M SO SORRY.

marking: describe your tattoos,or tattoos you would like in the future?

“I have been marked once before. No needle will ever touch my skin again.”

He looks down at his forearm, his jaw set, the bitterness of old wounds in his eyes. He remembers Magda, trying desperately to claw hers off, trying to bleach her own skin, anything to be rid of it, anything to be undeserving. He’d held her hands in his own and wept with her, whispering in Polish because Yiddish was too close to the German that still haunted her at night, stop, my love, stop, please, please, I know it hurts.

“2-1-4-7-8-2. I doubt a description is necessary.” 

[ethotv-archived]

fuckit im gonna get u all to read way down we go its a fanfic but since its an au its way divorced from canon anyway and you dont really need to know anything abt the source. please read it :)