#petition to have them say slurs in media again

[thylionheart]

Kings really could have been the best show on television if they had not been COWARDS about making it too gay and too religious

“I will not be plowed into obscurity by someone else’s ambition” STILL slaps so fucking hard to this day

[bisexual-panic]

I’m just going to give a little description on an event that has happened in Ireland this week because I think it’s important to share but trigger warnings for homophobia, assault and just general injustice

Two years ago Natasha O’Brien was beaten unconscious to the point where she thought she was going to die by an Irish Defence Forces soldier named Cathal Crotty and he then boasted about it on social media, saying “Two to put her down, two to put her out.” This week he has avoided any jail time due to him being described as a “professional” and “disciplined” officer and that the attack was “out of character” and (of course) because of “the consequences it would have on his life and his career”. Crotty and his friends were shouting homophobic slurs at people in O’Connell street, Dublin when Natasha O’Brien and her friend approached them to politely tell them to cut it out. He then assaulted her. She sustained broken nose, concussion, swelling and bruising during the attack. He is still currently serving in the army. SHE had to leave her job in the aftermath of the attack due to her blacking out because of the damage of the attack and panic attacks she got from fear of meeting Crotty again during one of her shifts.

He is a soldier, he is the one supposed to protect us yet he violently attacked a woman and had no problem yelling the f-slur. The judge said “In fairness to him, he has come to court and publicly admitted his wrongdoing, and he has made a public acknowledgement of his criminality,” BUT HE WILL FACE NO CONSEQUENCES FOR HIS ACTIONS OTHER THAN A €3,000 FEE!

I cannot explain to you how let down I feel by the justice system right now.I’m currently looking for a petition to link but for now I just wanted to share this because it is unfortunately not a rare occurrence but it is still shocking.

[ladybrythwensinclair]

Story time. (aka I weigh in again on the TERF stuff)

Somewhere in the archives of my blogs there is my argument regarding TERFs in Filianism and Déanism. I’m not going to rehash those arguments. I’m going to instead tell you all a story about how TERF stuff and related stuff has impacted myself, a cis-gendered woman. I hit puberty in 5th grade. Because I have polycystic ovarian syndrome, I developed facial hair at the same time I was developing breasts and such. My vocal register dropped to the point that I went from singing soprano in chorus to singing tenor. All of this would seem a non-issue because I have breasts and lack a penis, in the eyes of some people. All those anti-trans slurs got thrown at me in high school and after by a good number of people. The girls in my gym class started a petition for me to have my genitals checked to make sure that I belonged in the girls’ gym class. In the locker room, the harassment was awful with there being a lot of physical bullying - including an incident during swimming class were someone attempted to forcibly strip me naked to ‘prove’ that I wasn’t really a girl. That person got a fist in their face for their efforts because at that age I was a bit of a brawler. It didn’t go far to convince my peers that I wasn’t a ‘freak.’ Add to this the fact that my psychologically abusive parents were throwing slurs in my direction about being female and ‘failing’ at it. The only time I felt like I could pass as unquestionably female was when I was pregnant. My appearance is relatively androgynous because my breasts are small and I don’t have that ‘classic hourglass figure’. If I wear a sports bra and a bulky sweater, I force myself to speak in my higher vocal register because if I use my natural vocal register, I’ve had neighbors threaten me with violence. I’ve had people follow me around the store making comments behind my back as to if I was male or female when I had long hair and discussing what manner of violence they’d do to me if I went into the wrong bathroom. Now, let’s get to the crux of the matter since I’ve given you a bit of history and a little taste of the present. TERF ideology is harmful. Full stop. Feminism is for everyone. That’s how it works because if you lift up one, you lift up the whole group. Feminism is about equality. Feminism doesn’t matter as to what is in your pants or on your chest. It is about freedom and equality for all genders, regardless of their presentation. Telling transgender people that they aren’t really people is bullshit. And that’s exactly what TERFs are doing when they say that they don’t count in Feminism. You wouldn’t tell a woman who had a hysterectomy that she wasn’t a woman. You wouldn’t tell a woman who had to have her breasts removed due to cancer that she wasn’t a woman. All TERFs are doing is the same damn thing as the Patriarchy - reducing a woman down to her ability to be a reproductive instrument for the system.

There are women born with medical conditions that result in an enlarged clitoris that has them mistakenly marked as male on their birth certificates. There are women born with medical conditions that result in them having the physical sex characteristics typically associated with men, i.e. testicles or a penis. These differences don’t emerge until puberty in some cases and then they face excessive violence because they’re not socially a woman or a man. And let us not forget the women who are born intersex and are listed as male on their birth certificate because it was what somebody decided was easiest. Being a woman is not a matter of physiology. A woman is no less a woman if she can not bear children. A woman is no less a woman if she has facial hair and more body hair then is typically seen in the media’s presentation of how women look. Being a woman is psychological. Setting up all of these social hoops for women to jump through to be accepted into the peer group is bullshit. Feminism is supposed to remove the damn hoops, not make more of them. People are who they tell you they are. People are who their actions show them to be. If one of my children stopped me and said, “Mom, I think I’m a girl, not a boy.” I would embrace them and do everything I could to make their path to growing in their self-identity experience as healthy and self affirming as possible. Maybe, just maybe, more people should look around with some love and accept that the world is far stranger and fantastic than they first realized. As for TERFs, your ideology is bullying and verbal violence against some of the most vulnerable people in society. You need to stop and look at where this is coming from. This isn’t love. I don’t know if it’s fear or what. I’m one of the cis-gendered women that have been subjected to your bullying and verbal violence. Knock it off of the love of anything you regard holy. I get it if they squick you and make you uncomfortable.  People were like that for a long time about having integrated schools. Get over it, these people are human too and deserve as much respect and love as you do.

[kurtty-drabbles]

Postwoman au (part 10)

N/A: The aftermath of the discovery and bonding moment. I guess

@dannybagpipesarecalling @tieflingteeth @muninandhugin​

Meggan Puceanu is a succubus, a fact no one is stupid to ignore, however, Succubus are more than- as the media love to portray them- "attractive people who like sex" because their powers are never speculated throughout the media.

Meggan is hovering through the flooring-bare foot as her hair is growing and glowing- with a mug safely hold in her hand. "Good morning, Captain Crunch" waving with a free hand to Brian who looks drowsy as his only open eye glare at Meggan, and some words are exchanged.

"Funny" Brian states and rests his head on the table again.

Meggan studies his form. His sleeping sounds are cute, in a way. "Did I overdue?"

Brian makes a negative sound, only a British could pull this off. "No, I´m always this lazy on Sundays, don´t worry"

Meggan accepts this response only after Brian lifts his head to show his face. Healthy but still very much drowsed. The man yawns 2 times and slowly lowers his head and rest.

"This is a fine morning, you can´t be that lazy!" she jokes and offers a nice cup of coffee.

"It´s our free day. It´s our right to be lazy" Brian pipes in looking at the aforementioned coffee with some disdain and curiosity. "Your hair is glowing, does it means something magic is going on?"

Meggan´s lips are thin line. Her eyes wandering to the small kitchen to make sure no goblins are listening. Once her eyes scan all the interior, no signal of goblins listening for now. "Remember when that fellow arrived here to help us with vampires?"

Brian lifts his lips as his blue eyes are confused. "Uhm, we dealt with vampires all the time. Blade even help us one time, care to be more specific"

"Oh, right. I forget...we really dealt with an infestation of vampires lately. I´m talking about Nightcrawler, do you remember him?" Meggan explains as she stops hovering the flooring.

"Oh, that blue man...can I say blue man?" Brian is not sure if the blue man is a slur or not. "Yeah, I vaguely remember him...I forget his name. Why?" Brian can feel his sleepiness leaving his body as Meggan is holding the mug with her two hands.

"He´s an old God. A God of destruction and punishment..." Brian´s eyes widen and Meggan giggles at that. Brian can make cute reactions even if is not related to her feeding.  "I think is funny because it´s sort similar to our relationship...I´m a succubus, I´m dangerous. And he seems to be fond of a mortal woman"

Brian blinks again. "Ok, you´re talking about that petite woman who hogged all the coffee while she was here?" Brian remembers Kitty Pryde, if not for her love for coffees, then it was her dedication and efficiency in the mission. "Kitty Pryde, right? Why bring her and Nightcrawler on this lazy Sunday morning?"

"He´s an old god with a soft spot for her...Brian, soon enough, they´ll be our next case"

"Oh...what we do with a god of destruction and punishment wanting to be with a mortal?"

"I´m thinking more if she´ll have his children...it happened before" she almost giggles at his expression. "Not with me, silly, but he slept with a mortal in the 50´s and it results in a demigod"

Brian hummed in agreement.

"If they stay together..."

"Meggan, honey, it´s a lazy Sunday, let´s not think about demigods."

"Fine, but I call dibs if she ended up preggo"

"Uhm, not sure if it works like that"

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Kitty Pryde took a license for a few days. Technically speaking, Kitty has the right to take a few days offs, however, no one is faulting for wanting to extend those days thanks to her latest mission-which everyone is notified of such happenstance involving Kitty and the boss- so, now, Kitty Pryde is watching the pouring rain hitting the window of her apartment.

Doug Ramsey materialized in the apartment donning with Latveria´s robes. Holding an award signal by King Doom. "Hey, Kitty, how are you?"

Kitty looks up at him. Forlon eyes stare at hopeful blue eyes. No response was given.

"Right, uhm, a bad day at the job can cause you emotional scars" Doug takes some cards and starts to speak. "You´re sensational, don´t forget that, kiddo"

Kitty brow frowned as Doug continues to read motivational lines. "Doug, what are you doing?"

"Reading things to cheer you, up"

"Doug, what the fuck?"

"Hey, you did the same thing when Dylan broke up with me...we´re both socially awkward"

And Kitty laughs at this admission and tears follow from her eyes. Once her breathing normalizes, the woman speaks. "Oh My God, that´s so true"

"Yep, we´re such turtles"

"No, you´re a turtle...and I´m not even sure what this means"

"Feeling better?"

"A little"

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

Kurt Wagner was presenting his case, well, rehearsal his last case, when the portal opens to reveal one Kitty Pryde shyly stepping in. "Can we talk?" she notices the papers. "unless you have something else to do...the harpy trials was last month...right?"

Kurt looks at the papers and nods without care. "It´s not important...if you want to talk, we can talk" Kurt delegate his papers to the desk without minding where it lands.

"Look, I..." she takes a deep breath to dive into such troublesome conversation and thoughts. "I saw what you did in the past, those things haunted me...and I want to know why are you here? Working as Krampus is atonement or it´s something else?"

Kurt didn´t blink. His yellow eyes are too glowing. "It was a long and complex story, the rundown version is that...my followers forsake me, time and beliefs morphed into something I couldn´t give" he explains scratches his neck bemused.

"So...there´re people who enjoyed seeing that" Kitty chuckles humorlessly. " Ok, I can see that...and it was awful"

"I turned into Krampus to adapt the modern times. I turned into Krampus to compensate for what I did"

"And...?"

"And...I never shy away from my past. I know what I´m...and I should have told you, but, I´m ancient ...thought my past is not relevant"

"You should have told me...I was there, you know"

Kurt looks away. Kitty comes closer to meet him half-way. "it was an emergency"

"NO!" Kitty points her fingers at Kurt. "It was laziness or fear on your part. You had time to braid my hair, could have spare some time to tell me WHAT I could find and WHO would be there"

Kitty closes her eyes. She must continue. "I saw a side of you...I wasn´t prepared to see and what hurts the most is that...you didn´t want to tell me...no, maybe what hurts the most is that I thought you should tell me..."

Kurt opens and closes his mouth a few times, until, he finds the words. "I was selfish...I thought I could keep you ignorant about my past even when is impossible, can you forgive me?"

She looks up at him. She looks down and up. Until she finally speaks. "I can´t forgive you quickly...is a healing process...it helps if you tell me more about you, the person I´m seeing now...not the vengeful God I saw in the past"

"I like ice cream and love dogs" Kurt summarize his two favorite things. "Also, I´m a great acrobat"

"Really?"

"Really!"

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

A View To A Winchester (Part 7)

Series Page

Summary: Julie’s starting a new life after divorce in a home with a very nice view.

A Dean X OFC story. I got this idea staring out the view of my home office window and thinking how nice it would be to have Dean Winchester to ogle. Gotten pretty cute and fluffy, with some angst. I’m a few sections ahead now in my writing so the outline of the story is taking shape and smut is on the near horizon. This has been a fun escape during stay-at-home orders. Getting to know Dean through my heroine’s eyes has been a great writing exercise and therapeutic reduction in anxiety. There should be studies done on what staring at photos and video of Dean/Jensen does to the human body. (But the SPN fandom has probably done one already; if not, it could be the next big scientific breakthrough.)

Section Word Count:  3,385

Section Content: fluff, angst, R-rated language, drinking, Spice Girls references, Dean being Dean and turning ladies to puddles

Thank you to @deanwanddamons​ for reading some of the story so far. Appreciate it.

~~~~~

Dean had not returned the next day. But Julie was apparently on his mind. He’d texted her that morning with an update. Another job had dropped into his lap. One too good to pass up. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be gone. But he was looking forward to seeing her when he got back.

That was on a Monday. She filled that day with decisions about what to make for her “girl power get together” scheduled for the end of the week. There was also the necessary recuperation from overdoing it with the wine. She hadn’t been that hungover in a while. Bingeing on caffeine and “The Office” helped.

By Tuesday, she’d become ancy. Staying home was not going to work. If her mind was going to run around in circles, there would need to be something else to occupy it. Rifling through options landed on a trip to a nearby state park. She’d decided on one with a bit of a challenging hike. Composed of winding hills and trails near the Brandywine River, the nature reserve filled her senses, balancing the whirlwind of emotions. She spent close to an hour sitting beside the riverbed. A turbulent spot chosen where the white water rushed over boulders and splashed into a slight descent. The river’s frantic pace cancelled out the chirping of busy birds. A gauge nearby displayed a healthy amount of rain had occurred over the past few weeks.  

Even the intrusion into her personal space by a talkative, friendly dog walker didn’t bother her that much. The petite raven-haired woman, whose age was hard to pinpoint, made some chit chat while Julie trekked back to her car. Her name was Ina and she was new to Delaware. Currently, she was in search of a server job at a high-end restaurant where the tips would make it worth her time. “Any recommendations for decent food markets? Best place to order take-out, Thai being my favorite?” Ina’s chocolate lab, Cocoa, sniffed at Julie’s sneakers with abandon as questions were tossed in her general direction. Julie pet Cocoa, dodging some inquiries and rambling off information about places near her home. Cocoa got a few good scratches behind an ear before she wished Ina well settling into Pike Creek.

Wednesday ticked by even slower. Her fingers itched to text Dean. The basement had been the lucky recipient of her time and attention. A large amount of progress was made unpacking boxes, sorting out donations, and finding permanent spots in the house for decorative items. She broke down and reached out to her brother and sister-in-law, Patty, and face timed with her nephews later that night. 

By Thursday, she went over her mom’s house. They ended up going to the mall and then shopping for the food Julie needed for her Friday night get together. She was reminded by her mother to feed the ladies well, with various cooking tips. Dean was also a large part of her mother’s focus. Julie feigned as much non-interest on the Winchester topic as possible. But her mother knew her well enough. She was reminded upon leaving to feed him the lasagna in the freezer soon.

Karen, Stacey, and Cat benefitted from a substantial number of Julie’s hours in the kitchen that Friday night. She’d attempted chicken parmesan, one of her mom’s signature dishes. Sauce had simmered on the stove for a couple hours - not as long as Brigida’s, but not bad. They were on the second bottle of red wine, having moved out of the dining room and into the living room. Cat, sensible and responsible as usual, was abstaining and had driven the other former college roommates over to Julie’s house.

Streaming radio played. They ended up singing along to “Holler” by The Spice Girls, sans Ginger. Julie had always been eager to take Posh’s lines, mainly because hers were few and far between. But, Karen, with her mocha colored skin, coiffed haircut, and pencil-thin skirt wrapping a pencil-thin body truly embodied the word posh. In spite of all that, Karen tapped away on her cell phone while covering Scary’s verses.

Julie had always admired Karen’s drive and dedication. She even hoped to get the divorce thing down as well as Karen. Her two teenage boys were spending the weekend at the Ex’s. She was heading up to New York by train to see her wealthy lawyer boyfriend Saturday morning. Karen made more money than “new man” did. She was a partner in a very successful law firm.  

Stacey always loved Baby Spice. She had the requisite long blonde hair and blue eyes and curvy figure. She also apparently loved babies, as she had birthed three of them in her fifteen years of wedded bliss. The youngest child was two and at home with the rest of the brood that night. Her somewhat sickeningly sweet hubby was great with the kids, she gushed. “He doesn’t think he’s babysitting when he spends time with them.” She nodded and pointed at all three women in succession. Her affinity for wine had not faltered either from their college days. Stacey’s lips are already way too loose when she’s sober. Her rouge stained mouth was downright slippery at present, wet with a good Cabernet Sauvignon.

“Lucky you.” Karen quipped. “My ex went to the mat to get shared custody. Yet, every time it’s ‘his’ weekend, there has to be an argument.” Karen’s love for air quotes hasn’t gone away. She smiled over at Cat. “You should have tried harder to seduce me, Kitty Kat. Would have saved me decades of dumb dick.”

Cat, who always seemed relegated to Sporty Spice by default, pushed black rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose. Her blue eyes crinkled behind the frames. “It wouldn’t have stuck, Kar.” She dipped and sipped at her soda. Sharp angles of her brown bob curtained a pale face. Stubby fingers with short nails - that she probably still bites - flicked the hair back. “Besides, I wouldn’t be happily domesticated with Sheila now. And you hate dogs. I have two, remember? Big ones.” Cat turned to Julie. “What about you, Jules?”

Julie’s eyes widened behind her own glasses. “Are you offering to try and seduce me, Cat?”

Karen and Stacey laughed. Cat blushed. “No, smartass. Are you going to get a pet to keep you company?”

Julie shook her head. “Don’t think so.” She was taking it easier on the wine than the other two, still milking her second serving. There would be no hangover repeat.

“Well, a man, then?” Karen asked.

Stacey guffawed. “It’s only been a few months. Give the woman a chance to grieve.”

“Grieve over what? A shitload of baggage she never checked on the flight.” Karen shot back.

Cat rolled her eyes. “Here they go,” she mumbled.

Julie cleared her throat. All three turned to stare in her direction. “There is… someone.”

Karen slapped her thigh. “That’s my girl!”

“Already?” Stacey’s lids blinked in rapid succession.

Cat waved a hand at Stacey to hush, looking at Julie the whole time. “Details.”

Julie began the very lengthy tale that was Dean Winchester. When she was done, she was met with mixed reactions from the trio.

“He’s been stalking you?” Karen’s brow furrowed.

“He’s a bounty hunter?” Stacey added her concern.

“What’s his name again?” Cat pulled her tablet out of the huge purse by her feet. She was a communications manager at a large non-profit and social media was her specialty.

Julie shifted in her seat. “Dean Winchester.” Defense mode shot up. “To be fair, it’s not like I was innocent in the whole stalking thing, either.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t go much beyond some Googling, right? He got downright illegal in his activity.” Karen shook her head.

“Hm.” Cat frowned. “You said he’s around our age?”

Julie nodded. “43, he said.”

Stacey wagged a sluggish finger. “Hey, we’re 40. Don’t age us all prematurely. Nature’s doing a fine job of that without any additional assistance.” Stacey’s starting to slur. May have to cut her off soon.

Cat ignored Stacey, swiping and typing. “I’m not coming up with anyone around that age with that name. Weird.”

“Why’s that weird?” Stacey asked.

“Everyone has a digital footprint. Something can be found on anyone pretty quickly. Even if it’s the smallest, inconsequential bit of data. But, to find nothing…”

Julie shrugged. “Maybe he’s good at covering his tracks.”

“Even more reason to be wary of this guy, Jules.” Karen attempted a maternal look. “He sounds like the epitome of a bad boy. Come on, a vintage muscle car? You’re a sucker for that type. We were study partners working on our Minors in Psychology together, remember? Think about it. Ten years with a man you thought was a good partner and reliable, only to have that rug ripped out from under you? I’d be searching for the exact opposite, too, faster than you could say peanut butter sundae.” No wonder she makes the big bucks. She presents a damn good argument.

“Karen’s right.” Stacey tried to sound soothing. “You’re in a very vulnerable state right now. Hormones are probably all over the place. Any guy with ill intentions could take advantage of that.”

Julie raised a brow. “If you saw this man in person, Stace… trust me, you’d be all aboard the Dean Train. Remember Gavin Teller?” Julie leaned forward for emphasis.

“Yeah?” Stacey squeaked out the question. 

“Imagine Gavin having aged to perfection, like that fine wine you enjoy so much.” She pointed at Stacey’s glass. “Now, square that. You get Dean Winchester.”

“We all remember Gavin in his heyday.” Karen let out a low-key whistle. “Damn. I may have to reconsider my opening statement.” Her original career path of a prosecutor fell by the wayside midway through her college career. An enticing salary that could be earned helping clients buy and sell publicly traded companies won out.

Stacey shushed Karen. “College quarterbacks don’t turn into bounty hunters.”

Cat raised both hands in the air. “That is an opinion, not fact. And a totally ridiculous leap. Besides, Gavin Teller sells cars at his dad’s dealership now, is bald, and has a pot belly. His local TV spots are downright cringeworthy. Such a pain in the ass when his company sponsored one of our events. Wanted his cheesy grin inserted in so many media posts. How is that better than being a badass bounty hunter?”

Julie smiled at the tension and exchanged a knowing glance with Karen. They had long suspected there’d been some sexual experimentation between Cat and Stacey around college graduation. It had centered around a night of lemon drop body shots.  

Stacey tilted her nose up. “He was always nice to me.”

“That’s because he liked how you looked in that cheerleading skirt, Stace. I know I did. But, really, Julie… you should be careful.” Cat repeated the other’s concern.

The doorbell chimed. Stacey gasped and Karen’s posture stiffened. Cat returned the tablet to her purse. 

“Did you order more food?” Nervous laughter from the ladies followed Cat’s question.

Julie shook her head. She looked at her watch. It was not quite 7:30 pm. Seconds later her phone buzzed. She tapped at the screen to view the text.

Knock, knock

“Oh, shit.” Julie whispered.

“What?” Karen placed her wine glass atop a coaster on the coffee table. Even in high alert, the woman has good etiquette.

“It’s him.”

Stacey cupped a hand over her mouth.

“Dean Winchester?” Cat asked.

“Yeah.”

“Why’s he coming by unannounced?” Karen was in full-blown fact-finding mode.

Julie wrinkled up her nose. “I may have told him to stop by when he got back.”

“How desperate are you?” Stacey scolded.

“Stacey…” Julie sighed.

Karen raised two hands in the air with a smile on her face. “This is great.”

“Why?” Cat asked.

“So we can all get held hostage by Julie’s lady killer?” Stacey’s voice got higher with each word.

“We can vet him.”

“Vet him?” Julie groaned.

“Yep.” Julie had seen that stern nod from Karen countless times. “If he seems like a creep, you’re done with him. I’ll call in a favor to get a court order issued if need be.”

Stacey nodded. “Yeah. Between the three of us, we’ll be able to give you a decent character profile. And Cat’s not affected at all by men…”

Cat slapped both palms on her thighs.

Karen waved Julie to the door. “Hurry up and open it.”

“This is a horrible nightmare,” Julie mumbled. Her stomach was doing somersaults. What the hell will Dean think? What will the girls do?

“Your phone’s buzzing again.” Cat commented. “Anxious little bugger, isn’t he? What did you promise the man?”

Julie took a deep breath, her hand on the doorknob. The last rays of daylight sparkled through the etched glass. Maybe this is good. I may really need an objective opinion. After all, he’s probably not as irresistible as I’m making him out to be. Context.

When she opened the door, Dean greeted her with a full watt smile. “Hey there.” The two words slipped out slow. His hands held the cake box, fingers thrumming against the cardboard sides. “I was told to deliver this as soon as I got back.” His tongue darted out to the side for a quick lick of his bottom lip while he inspected her.

Damn. He was outfitted in a light grey, muscle-hugging t-shirt and faded blue jeans. Positively edible. Fuck context. She couldn’t stop the smile from spreading over her lips. This will be fun.

He stepped up into the entryway, not waiting for permission to enter. His hands offered Julie the box. She was careful to grab the box from the base. He glanced over her head and spotted the company in the living room. His eyes narrowed, tilting down to look into Julie’s eyes. “Sorry. Am I interrupting?” He whispered. “I saw the car parked out front when I drove into the neighborhood… didn’t recognize it…”

Julie arched a brow. “Were you worried for my safety? Or being nosy?”

He grinned. “A little of both.”

She nodded him into the living room. “Come meet some friends.”

He nodded in return and shuffled into the living room, hands stuffed in his pockets, shoulders back, a swirl of timid confidence. The ladies were all up from their seats. The tiny living room felt even smaller with the congregation and Dean’s frame occupying some of it. Julie’s slow steps gave her time to take in the reactions, hiding somewhat behind Dean’s impressive stature. In his wake, she picked apart his scent. The heady mix of leather, sweat, and grease was sharp and crazy intoxicating.

Stacey’s mouth hung open in slight disbelief. Karen fiddled with her hoop earrings and gave Dean the full top to bottom to top inspection. Cat’s eyes narrowed.

When Julie strolled up to Dean’s left, she saw his cautious smile preparing to melt the group. “Dean, these are some college friends of mine.” Julie rattled off their names in order. “Karen. Stacey. Catherine.”

Cat smiled over at Julie, appreciating the replacement of her nickname reserved only for select company.

And, then, Dean unleashed the smile that Julie was certain would topple their wall of uncertainty. He extended his hand and shook each one with the right amount of strength. “Pleasure to meet you, ladies. I didn’t think Julie had any friends.” He chuckled. “She doesn’t get many visitors.”

“And you’d know that because of all the spying you’ve been doing on our dear friend, I hear.” Karen was ready to knock him down a peg or two right out of the gate. But the look on her face betrayed the lackluster attempt at disapproval.

Dean’s eyes widened and he stared at Julie. “Have you been talking about me?”

Julie pursed her lips.

Dean shrugged, intense eyes still on Julie. “Well, if you appreciated beautiful ladies as much as I do, you’d understand.”

Stacey cleared her throat, Dean reddening her cheeks even more than the red wine had. She looked in desperate need of fanning. “Where’re you from, Dean?”

The question pulled his gaze from Julie. He smiled at Stacey again. “Kansas.”

Julie tilted her head, wondering if it was the truth.

“Long way from Kansas.” Cat added.

“Well, I’ve been all over the country.”

The three nodded in unison. Karen asked, “Have you gotten a tour of Julie’s house yet, Dean?”

Julie’s eyes zeroed in on Karen with laser focus.

Dean licked his top lip. Julie caught Stacey and Karen taking particular notice of that sexy tick of his. Not the only one at the mercy of those physical attributes, am I, Ladies?  “Um, no. This is the first time I’ve been allowed entrance into Julie’s compound, actually.” He pointed to the sliding door. “I’m usually relegated to outside chores.”

“Uh-” Julie started.

“We were getting ready to take a look around,” Stacey interjected. “Jules, why don’t we get the full narrated tour with Dean, here?”

Julie could feel her cheeks blushing.

“Oh, that’s…” He laughed, protesting with a shake of his head, “that’s okay. I’ll leave you ladies to your night. I was only dropping off this cake.” He pointed to the box Julie was still holding. “Still pretty damn tasty after a week.” He grinned at her. “I snuck another slice before bringing it back.” He rubbed a hand on his thigh. “It was nice meeting all of you.”

The three nodded again in unison. As Dean turned their gazes all dropped to stare at his ass. Julie stifled a giggle and pushed the box into Stacey’s hands. She met Dean at the door. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

He bent close to her ear and whispered, “You’ll have to let me know if I passed the test later,” waited a beat, straightened his posture, then ended with, “Jules.”

The light spilling in through the front door glass lit up his eyes a crystal green. “You’ve already passed mine.” She whispered back.

“Good.” He grinned.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” she asked.

His tongue peeked out only a sliver between his lips, revving up the grin even more. “Guess that depends on you.”

“Come over around 8:00.”

He tilted his head. “Is that a request or an order?”

She ignored the question. “Make sure you eat dinner ahead of time. Cause I’m not making any.”

Surprise mixed with amusement on his face. He glanced into the living room. The ladies were seated now, talking amongst themselves, but still staring at the pair. His gaze heated her back up when it returned. “Want me fueled up for any tasks in particular?” Julie shrugged in response. “Hm. Any other commands?”

“Just don’t disappear tomorrow.”

He nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.”

She sighed. “Don’t call me Ma’am.”

His eyes narrowed. “Kind of sexy when you’re bossy.”

She laughed, blushing again.

“And when you’re blushing.” He opened the door for himself, waved a hand to the women and then mouthed “See you tomorrow night” to Julie.

As soon as the door shut, Stacey called out, “I take back everything I said earlier.”

Karen added, “If you get kidnapped, give him my address so he can swing by and grab me, too.”

Julie giggled, walking over to the group. “Seriously, what did you think?”

Stacey’s eyes bugged out. “Oh my god! He’s gorgeous and knows how to use it. That’s dangerous on a ton of levels. But I don’t think he’s a crazy psycho.” Stacey fanned herself. “My husband’s in for it when I get home.”

Karen nodded. “Oh, he’s totally trouble and you’re in for an amazing ride. But, in this case, it’s not the destination but the journey. The journey all over that fine man, of which explicit details will be mandatory. Plus, he didn’t go for the bait to inspect your house. I think an under the radar creep would have been all for that.” She pointed at Julie. “But, we still get a tour as your oldies and besties.”

“Of course.” Julie turned to Cat. “What about you?”

Cat shrugged. “He seems alright. I still think he’s got stuff to hide, though. I’m going to do some serious digging.”

Julie frowned.

“Just looking out for you,” Cat added. “But he did have a really nice ass.”

Part 8

Series Page

[sol1056]

let’s just leave this here

so let’s see how quickly I can get through a bunch of these, just so they don’t languish for the next month... here we go. behind the cut:  why the opening never changed, why DW is deploying Josh again, a few about Iverson & Hedrick, is a reboot possible, staying in fandom vs leaving... and some others in the same vein. 

why did they keep the same opening for all of vld seasons, considering the line-up was never supposed to come back to the original from s3?

Every indication is that originally, the team would return to the original lineup. Keeping the opening was probably meant to remind audiences of that inevitability. Or you could believe LM, who said the opening cost 20K to make, and thus was too expensive to do more than once. She’d rather spend that money on a vacation. 

So I've heard that Josh Keaton is doing damage control for S8. Do you think Dreamworks sent him in because they know that he's the one guy that no one can get mad at? After what some of the fans have done to him this past year [...] I’m amazed that he's willing to stick around and try to make his fans happy for as long as he can. I can see why people say "We don't deserve him."

Josh has somehow managed that sweet spot between charming the fandom and gaining its trust. Doesn’t hurt that he’s got the chops, voice-wise, to take written dross (no, really, some of those lines are horribly clunky) and spin it into gold. More than anything else, he comes across as genuine, and that adds a certain credibility to his words. 

But... Josh doesn’t really have a choice. Playing Shiro is what catapulted Josh upwards, and the last thing he can afford to do is piss off DW by refusing to play ball. He’d only be damaging himself (and his reputation among potential employers) if he didn’t snap to attention when called. Plus, I think he really does sincerely love the character, but it’s got to be a tough spot for him right now. 

When you get down to it, the only one on VLD’s (former) staff who seems to believe Shiro belongs in the story and should be respected as part of the story... is Josh. Who else can Shiro’s fans look to, if Josh stops speaking?

So, yeah, Josh is it. And I bet he knows that, and knows it’s just part of signing up for such a major role. This is part of his job. 

So I came across a pic of Mitch Iverson from SDCC 2018 where he and Tim Hedrick weren't in the panel ... and [Iverson] was wearing a SHIRO BLACK PALADIN top ... while the EPs & Hamilton were in the panel promoting S7, Iverson supported Hedrick & his story, and Shiro.

Hedrick was actively involved in every script as the story editor, and reportedly conceived of Shiro as an astronaut returning after his capture by aliens. Iverson got his start thanks to Hedrick, thus it makes sense that Iverson would be simpatico with Hedrick’s vision of the story. 

On top of that, by SDCC Iverson already had his next gig lined up. He continued to write for VLD, so he had to be subtle... but a t-shirt was a good way to make his sentiments clear. Can’t blame the guy, seeing he probably knew what was coming and chose a quiet protest of his own.

As an American, how would you take it if someone, that is, Iverson, called himself a redneck? From what I know thats derogatory term & for people not exactly inclusive & supportive of minorities. He also retweeted an art of Allura with a quote: ‘Laters’, which I found in really poor taste...

Redneck is another slur adopted by the in-group. My guess is that if you called Iverson a redneck to his face, he’d be offended. But if you introduced yourself as a redneck, and then called him one, it’d be different. And yes, as a term, redneck has a complex history, and it changes subtly in terms of how each generation defines/uses it. 

As for retweeting things in poor taste... eh, most people don’t have any training in social media. Jokes are the hardest; it’s so easy for them to go so wrong. Until VLD, I’d bet Iverson was lucky to have a few hundred followers. How many follow him now? It takes time to find your footing in striking the right balance of humor and dignity. 

Sometimes the best course is to ignore the stumble. They’ll either learn, or they won’t. Either way, it’s their problem, not ours. 

Will Tim Hedrick be allowed to continue the voltron universe the way he planned it?  

I doubt it. He’s got a new project. If you’re now an EP finally getting your name at the top, would you really want to go back and fix someone else’s story? Sometimes it’s just better to leave it behind, and make sure the next thing you do is something you can have pride in.

...why do you keep saying the last episode Tim Hedrick wrote was The Feud? A lot of people keep repeating it, like it was his last 'fuck you' to the showrunners. But official sources all say 'The Journey Within' was his last episode.

All we can say for certain was that tJW is the last Hedrick episode broadcast. That doesn’t mean it was the last one written. 

Here’s why a lot of us peg tF as Hedrick’s last written episode: the story editor credit. Hedrick's the sole story editor on all his other episodes; tF is the only one in which both Hedrick and Hamilton share credit. The simplest explanation is this episode was edited in that window during which Hedrick had one foot out the door, and Hamilton had one foot in. iow, Hedrick put it into the queue, edited half, and moved on. Ergo, last written.

I can’t believe how they just managed to anger literally everyone no matter your favorite character or ship.

I recall a quote from early on, where LM said they had a feeling they couldn’t please everyone. The problem (which I noted at the time, and has remained true) is that the answer isn’t to just piss off everyone. 

It’s to figure out who you want your audience to be, and to write the best damn story you can for that particular audience. If you end up with a story only old-timer DotU fans love, and kids are lukewarm about, fine. If the reverse is true, fine. You can’t please everyone, especially in a reboot/remake. So you pick your battles, and write your story accordingly. 

Looking around social media, most people I'm seeing are either rightfully upset, or they're hyperfocusing on the one single scene they liked because they just don't have the energy to deal with the show's bullshit right now. How can they fuck up the last season so badly that it seems like the general reaction is disappointment and denial?

I think there’s a common cause for the fandom reactions: exhaustion. 

In American broadcast television, a 26-episode season runs from September to May, then a summertime lull, during which people digest and discuss. Binge-watching is changing this, but it seems one thing hasn’t changed: no matter how fast we watch a show, we still require processing time. 

What did we get? A half-season, two months’ break, another half-season, two months’ break, a full season, three months’ break, and a final full season. If every season had provoked a spike equal to S1/S2, we might’ve been begging DW by June to just freaking chill. Fandom had barely begun to process one season and a new one was already landing on our heads. 

On top of that, S3-S6 weren’t exactly walks in the part, post-release. In terms of controversy, S7 dwarfed them all. That made an awful lot of people (across the entire spectrum, from almost every sub-group in the fandom) disengage. Those who remained dialed back on their expectations (”as long as X happens, that’s all that matters”), or they hung in there, insistent it would turn out alright. 

So either you’re exhausted from not being able to fully disengage with the final season still in the wings, you’re exhausted from convincing yourself this one specific thing would be enough, or you’re exhausted from defending what turned out to be indefensible. 

Frankly, disappointment and denial is a fairly soft landing, compared to what might’ve been. But any way you cut it, the fandom’s worn the hell out.   

Do you think LM and JDS are gonna address this or are they just going to ignore the complaints, wash their hands and move on?

They don’t need to do anything. They don’t work for DW anymore. If someone has to address the complaints, it’d be DW or DW’s chosen spokesperson. I guess you could call that washing their hands, but the simple fact is they’re not on the payroll. They’re not responsible for VLD anymore.

do you think it's possible for dreamworks to rewrite season 8? i've never heard of a show doing that before and i'm afraid that we'll be stuck with what we got, but damn, i really hope that we will get to see the characters get the endings they deserve, if nothing else.

I’m not sure why anyone would bother. S7 was rife with problems; S3-S6 meandered back and forth. If I were to do a soft in-series reboot, I’d go back to the end of S2. That’s the clearest break, story-wise. 

But if you’re going backwards 50+ episodes to the 26th, just keep going and start over. More to the point: not a lot of creators would sign on to inherit problems not of their own making. Same reason new directors on a property will want to rework the script in some way (if not start over from scratch). 

Do you think this is truly the end of Voltron: Legendary Defender? I know that a lot of the cast and crew wanted to continue on with a sequel, and there's so many possibilities and things they can do in that universe, not to mention that Voltron is (or rather, was) a money bank...

Your guess is as good as mine, really. Hopefully we’ll get at least hints when the SACanime panel rolls around in early January.

There's a change petition for the "original s8" to be released ... [people] believe that LM and JDS are NOT the ones who ruined the last two seasons and that it was "exec meddling." Like, no, sorry, exec meddling appears to be what made it good in the beginning.

If we consider Yoo an exec by virtue of being CEO of Studio Mir, then I kinda wish he’d meddled a bit more. 

...I'm wondering if the original version exists, completed. In one post, you said DW picked Tim over L/J so surely that got animated? What do you think? Be real. I don't want to get my hopes high thinking there's some buried treasure out there to find.

Ah, no, sorry, I wasn’t speaking in the sense of VLD but in the overall corporate sense. Here’s how the scenario often plays out: manager A and employee B do not get along. The longer they clash, the greater the chance A will find an excuse to fire B. The project is literally not big enough for the both of them. 

B could resign, quit, or do a preemptive strike: go over A’s head and ask for help. If B leaves the company shortly after, it means the higher-up said: “I’ve heard A’s side, and I think A is right.” The exec might offer a good reference, or blame it on a no-fault bad fit. Doesn’t matter; the exec’s chosen A’s side. 

Now, consider what actually happened: B gets transferred off the project, and gets a major promotion -- basically up to the same level as B’s former manager. Either B has some of the most amazing dirt ever, is phenomenally good at twisting reality to seem like the wronged party... or the higher-up reviewed the situation and decided that of the two, B was the one worth keeping. 

Having decided that, the exec made an offer B couldn’t refuse, which would be to run a show that’s practically tailor-made to fit B’s dream job. That’s what I meant by losing the battle (how VLD would go) and winning the war (being the party seen as in the right, by the execs). 

The only way for A to turn things around is to have a blisteringly successful final product. It could literally kill two careers with one stone: the (former) employee, B, who spun such a good story, and the exec(s) who believed B. 

Given the numbers I’m seeing for S8... that exec did choose wisely.  

ETA (sorry forgot this part): There might be pieces, but it really depends on what version control is in use (if any). For that matter, even if there were saved copies, who’s to say those didn’t get, whoops, deleted at some point? I’d put my bet on there being nothing, now, except what we got. Sorry. 

I could understand if you never want to have anything to do with this show ever again.

Oh, jeez, I was here before VLD and I’ll be here after. Once we all get over our mutual exhaustion (and the holidays, bloody great timing, there), it’ll be time to roll up our sleeves and get to work. Fandom’s got a lot to do, putting things back together in all the shapes that’ll make us happy. This is the best time to be in a fandom, if you ask me. Everything’s just getting started!

[cyclistazine]

Thankful to the ancestors on this one, along with corona virus, and the hard work and momentum of the BLM movement and allies. The coalition we have been organizing with for the past few months are grateful to the cycling community who stood in solidarity and held conversations and organized with them on the #namethechange and #changethename campaign. While we are hopeful for the changes that will come for the event with this fresh start, we want to stress that all was asked for in our advocacy was for the slur to stop being used. Our coalition is grateful the name is going to be changed. We’d also like to highlight that the event has pivoted from using the slur and now refers to it as DK till the change is officially made. We'd like to suggest to the community to also put an end of the use of the slur related to this event in shops/media/print, it is a racial slur, even if the intent wasn't harm for this event, history shows us the slur was used for harm and is still hurtful to Kanza members. . Till the name is officially changed - the coalition intends to keep the petition up and asks for solidarity on not printing, saying, or selling merch with the slur. Also an apology to Kaw members and allies should not fall short of this moment. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Again, thank you community for your advocacy and solidarity. Please visit the website and petition to learn more about the work and advocacy behind the #namethechange #changethename campaign. One day I will tell you a story about how the water, eagel and four snakes who came to help. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ https://namethechange.com/ https://www.change.org/p/dirty-kanza-name-the-change-dk ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ #namethechange #changethename #bikesforblacklivesmatter #indigenoussolidarity #skoden #indigenoussolidaritywithblacklivesmatter #culturalappropriation #cyclingindustry #cycling #gravelrace https://www.instagram.com/p/CCWaYWxlCqv/?utm_medium=tumblr

[rpf-bat]

Give Us The Radio

Pairing: none

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Request fic for @sleepersareweaker. “hey, could you maybe do something with ftm drummer reader, like in Truth is Now Acceptable, being reassured and cared for by the rest of the band after a bad day with a lot of misgendering?”

You and the rest of My Chemical Romance had been busy. You were sweaty and exhausted from playing a long show. You’d been anxious about it, because this was the first time you’d be performing in your new short haircut and masculine clothes. But, the fans had still cheered for you loudly during your drum solo. Emo kids were used to bending the rules of gender, you supposed. They’d never been bothered by Gerard’s androgyny, either.

You’d made an official announcement on the band’s website about your transition a few days before. You were reluctant at first, because you figured media backlash was inevitable, but, as Frank pointed out, if you wanted your fans to use your correct pronouns, you had to tell them what they were. You’d almost cried when you saw a couple teenage fans who were also trans guys comment to tell you how much it meant to them that their idol was just like them.

One fan you’d seen dancing in the pit had held up a sign: WE LOVE YOU, MR. Y/N!

The kids were so supportive. Adults, who weren’t in the fandom, however, were another story.

Like this asshole radio show host you and the guys had an interview with right now. She’d just called you by your deadname, even though she had to be aware of your coming out post by now.

“His name is Y/N,” Gerard said with an impatient look.

“Right, sorry,” the host shrugged. “Anyway, let’s talk more about your new album, The Black Parade. You recorded it in this, like, haunted house, right?”

“Yeah, this place called the Paramour Mansion,” Ray nodded. “A few of us experienced some weird stuff while we were working on the album, actually. Mikey heard doors slamming themselves shut, and Y/N swears he saw something in the bathroom one night.”

“Oh, she did?” the host asked.

“He,” said Frank, narrowing his eyes.

“I’m sorry?” the host blinked. Why was she acting so confused? She had to be doing this on purpose.

“He did,” Ray clarified.

“Yeah, I swear the bathtub, like, filled itself,” you recalled.

“Wow, spooky,” the host nodded. “Did that haunted atmosphere influence the album’s sound, do you think?”

“Yeah,” Mikey said quietly. “Somewhat. I mean, the album was about death to begin with, but….”

“Hold that thought,” the host interrupted. “We have a caller! Rachel, right? Do you have a question for My Chemical Romance?”

“Yeah,” said a teenage voice on the other end of the line. “Hi, boys!”

“Hi,” you and the rest of your band chorused. You liked Rachel already, simply because she’d referred to the five of you as boys. That meant she saw you as a boy, too.

“So, umm, my question,” Rachel began nervously. “It’s for Y/N, actually. So, my friend at school just came out as trans. What should I do to support him?”

“Ooh, what a great question,” the host encouraged. “Since Rachel brought it up…..Gerard, how did you feel when Y/N said she wants to be a man now?”

“He was always a man,” Gerard said coldly. “But, now, he gets to show the world that, instead of having to act like he’s a woman.”

“We’re really glad that Y/N doesn’t have to deal with that kind of dysphoria anymore,” Mikey added. “Honestly, I wish he’d told us before.”

“Yeah, I feel so bad that we’d been calling him ‘she’ all this time, and didn’t know it was bothering him,” Frank frowned.

“It’s not your fault,” you said, looking at the petite guitarist. “I’m the one who chose not to come out to you for such a long time.”

“Were you afraid of what their reaction would be?” the host wondered.

“Yeah, I was,” you confessed. “In hindsight, I don’t really know why. I should’ve known that these guys are my brothers, and nothing was going to change the friendship I have with them.”

“So, yeah, Rachel,” Ray said, turning his attention back to the fan who had called in to the show. “Just make sure your friend knows that his being trans doesn’t change how you feel about him, ok?”

“I will!” Rachel said happily. She sounded like she was about fifteen. “By the way, your new album rocks! I love ‘Famous Last Words’!”

“Thanks,” Gerard said gratefully. You heard a click as your fan disconnected the call.

“Ray, do you really think you gave that girl the best advice?” the host wondered.

“What do you mean?” Ray cocked his head, tossing his floof in confusion.

“Personally, I think if someone is having gender confusion, it may be a sign that they’re mentally ill,” the host said bigotedly. “I think that girl should talk to a counselor about her friend, and get her some help.”  

“I don’t think he needs any help,” Frank snapped. “Being transgender isn’t a fucking illness, and outing your friend to a school official without his permission would be a really shitty thing to do.”

“So, it doesn’t make you concerned about Y/N’s mental health at all, that she wants to be a tranny?” the host asked pointedly.

“I think,” Gerard said angrily, “that if you use slurs like that against my drummer again, or you call him ‘she’ one more time, we’re going to walk right the fuck out of this interview.”

“But, we’ve still got another hour of the show left to go!” the host protested.

“We don’t care,” Mikey agreed with his brother. “If you want to be transphobic, you can find a new band to be your guest.”

“Doesn’t your album need the press?” the host insisted.

“Not from you, if you want to be an asshole to Y/N,” Frank said, getting up from his chair and walking towards the door. “What do you say, guys? Wanna blow this popsicle stand?”

“Let’s get out of here,” Ray agreed, giving you his hand to help you out of your seat. Gerard took your other hand, squeezing it tight in a gesture of solidarity.

“Let it be known now,” Mikey announced. “My Chemical Romance is not going to work with anyone in this industry who thinks Y/N is anything other than a real, amazing man.”

Linking arms, the five of you walked right out of the studio into the bustling street. You were in this together.

[terra-kat]

ashcdm said: But… its simply just another work of fiction. If you watch the film, it turns out hes a superhuman in the Unbreakable universe. You dont see families whose loved ones were murdered boycotting Friday the 13th. They are just works of fiction, most movies/books are. Theyre not personal attacks or generalizing people. I know you obviously hate hearing it, but don’t take it so personally. I certainly didn’t walk out of that theater feeling re-educated on people with DID or mental illness, noone did             

A post I saw on this recently that explains this a little bit, here’s another post that explains more of this.

I won’t be able to get too deep into this/explain as much as I want to because today has been awful, I’m very low on ability to communicate with people (especially people I’m having to work hard to bite back anger at because they didn’t seem to read the original post before commenting), and I just lost another $140 a month bc of an ableist society you don’t seem to care about fixing.

Let me say this again.

I have DDNOS, and my mother has DID.

Listen. To. Us. When we speak about this.

Do you know how many times she’s had psychiatrists, doctors, and therapists gaslight her because of her DID diagnosis? How many times she’s been victim-blamed, yelled at, misdiagnosed, forced to take medications that cause all sorts of absolutely horrid and extremely painful side-effects, petitioned, strapped to a table for hours on end with the bands so tight they cut off her circulation, thrown to the floor, been preyed upon, had her privacy invaded, had her personal belongings stolen, etc etc. because of the stigma against mental illness--stigma which is spread and accepted because of media like “Split”?

I’ve had to live my life watching my mom get abused repeatedly, watching her work so hard and do so much to try and get better while ableists knock her down (sometimes literally) each time instead of HELP her like they’re SUPPOSED to be doing because they’re DOCTORS.

I’ve had to live in households where roaches are constantly underfoot, where bugs get into the food we manage to buy and cook despite our low income and disabilities, where spiders crawl in our carpets and bite us all over our bodies where we sleep, where bedbugs are in every last nook and cranny and school textbook.

I’ve had to live in places where street fights go down constantly, where peoples’ houses are lit on fire, where I’m not safe (and have been traumatized/assaulted, and regularly harassed) just walking around the neighborhood.

I’ve had to watch my mother get her dream job, and for us to have actual money for a few months, only for her to essentially get fired because they won’t accommodate for her disabilities.

Ever since I’ve been little, the question of “will we be able to keep our house? will we have to be homeless?” has been present, and it’s even stronger now that I’m an adult and a ton of our income has been cut and they won’t register me for disability because of ABLEISM (key word here; that thing that is the cause of movies like this, and which spreads and becomes stronger and more socially justifiable and accepted because of movies like this).

I had to drop out of high school because of lack of accommodations and harassment from teachers (both in relation to my disabilities), haven’t been able to get a job because of lack of resources  + ableist job-filters, I don’t even have the resources I need to be able to survive, and honestly I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to stay alive.

And movies like this? Will just make all of this harder. People aren’t usually educated about what actual mental illnesses look like, and when they do, most of the time they’re being fed false information because of movies like this.

People refuse to take us seriously, make fun of us, lock us up, take away our rights, and it’s all accepted, because of movies like this.

People with DID + DDNOS already have to deal with having been severely traumatized/abused as a child, and having to suffer through all of the struggles and difficulties the disorder (developed because of the trauma) presents--which is a lot (including reliving/re-experiencing the trauma in the form of flashbacks).

And then they have to deal with people acting like those who have that disorder are terrifying, horrible monsters. As if those who developed a disorder because of horrific child abuse are evil “crazy”* abusers themselves because of the disorder.

*”Crazy, psycho, insane, etc.” are slurs meant to dehumanize neurodivergent people. They’re used to keep abusers in power and make the neurodivergent person question their own reality, doubt everything they experience and think and do, lose all self-confidence and self-esteem, and depend on the abuser. They’re used to sensationalize neurodivergency in a way that justifies the actions of these abusers and to further silence neurodivergent people.

They have to deal with the constant jokes, the gaslighting, the victim-blaming, the very dangerous misinformation.

They have to deal with the medical abuse and deadly malpractice that comes about because of misrepresentation.

And then they have to deal with people telling them that it’s “just another work of fiction”, and that the very real oppression and abuse they face is just them taking it “so personally”.

[ctrl-liz-blog]

coming undone || eliana.

title: coming undone

location: almaden vineyards

interacting: liz & ariana

Ariana: There was a tenseness to her muscles that made her feel more like a mannequin in that bustling room full of people than a woman of flesh and bone. She didn’t want to be there. Her mind had become caught in a violent whirlwind of confusion, trying to organize the chaos in her life, and attending a party in which she was surrounded entirely by her peers and the press wasn’t an idea she was fond of at first pitch; it wasn’t an idea she was fond of, period. And, so, as she stood there, silently observing the festivities happening around her, Ariana knew she couldn’t just lurk around for the rest of the night, putting on the appearance of a walking skeleton. Luckily, she was out of sight from the focus of most people, being able to slip from her corner out into the main hall. She walked for a while, hurrying to locate a bathroom in which she could partake in her own idea of fun without interruption. At last, she came across one completely empty, and it had seemed it hadn’t even been used yet after its cleaning for the event. After double checking to ensure she was alone, Ariana took no haste in removing a mirror, a credit card, a crisp bill, and a small baggie filled with a white powder from her clutch. Fixing herself two lines side by side took little to no time, for she was in a rush, and also due to it having become somewhat of a second nature. She paused for a moment, pressing her lips together to glance down at the crystalline substance before her before bending over the counter, using the rolled up bill to guide her way down the first line, gradually losing awareness to her surroundings.

Liz: Drink after drink, Liz found herself trying so desperately to mentally escape the whirring and buzzing of the party. After all, this was the last place she wanted to be with her current state of mind. She’d cooped herself up at home for the past week and a half, avoiding the world and all that it had pressed upon her. Granted, some aspects to living her life in the spotlight were unavoidable, but she continued to put on a brace face for public interactions on social media and play it coy, as if she wasn’t internally torn in two. She lost count of how many drinks she’d had after five, for that was around the point when the alcohol finally managed to hit her. She’d always had a tendency for unhealthy habits with liquor, and thus, her tolerance was extremely fortified, but as of late, she took to the bottle even more frequently, making it a commonplace act to swallow the substance that left her feeling completely numb. It was much better than the ache that continued to resonate in her chest, that was for sure. As she stood in the corner, drink in hand, she managed to float through a few awkwardly painful and slurred conversations with others, though she was eternally grateful for when they ended so that she could once again be left to her own devices. After some time, she stumbled off to find a bathroom, finding herself no longer able to hold her liquor. With eyes glancing left and right, she managed to slip away from the party unnoticed and locate a bathroom that was just down a long corridor. She pushed open the door swiftly, like a woman on a mission. To her surprise, however, she was met with the sight of Ariana. She froze, dead in her tracks. There, the sight of the girl she’d pushed away, burned into her grey hues. She didn’t mean to stop and stare, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. And as she studied the girl for a moment, she noticed two things rather quickly. First, her appearance was quite haggard; she looked as though she’d aged substantially in just a matter of weeks, for the way her skin clung to her cheekbones, she looked completely emaciated. Second, as she was sucked into her trance, she noticed the line of blow that was perfectly cut in front her. As if by magic, she was snapped out of her stupor and darted forward, swatting the mirror from the sink’s counter top to the floor, knocking the crystalline substance everywhere. In that moment, though still heavily intoxicated, she managed to gain enough of her composure, though her heart was hammering unbearably hard against her rib cage. “Ariana.” She breathed out, eyes locking on her once more. “Why the fuck are you doing this?”

Ariana: It stings as the drug dissolves inside her nasal cavity, the sensation greeting Ariana as one would an old friend. A searching hand wipes away the residue beneath her nose with a bandaged knuckle, and her head shoots up, tired eyes piercing the reflection in the bathroom mirror. The taste was strong in her throat as the familiar numbness began to set in. It wasn’t until her face fell back down to the small, travel mirror to snort the second line that she’s suddenly taken aback by an unexpected intruding hand. The mirror went flying, glass shattering against the cold tile, powder dispersed amongst her feet. “What the fuck?!” the girl exclaimed loudly, stumbling backward slightly. Her focus flickered from the ground to the presence standing before her, and it was then she could have sworn her hammering heartbeat came to a halt in her chest. A wave of coolness washed over Ariana’s being. “Oh. Hey, Liz.” Her voice remained frigid as she spoke, thoughts igniting deep in her mind. Of all people, of course, it had to be none other than Liz Gillies. Sucking in a deep breath, she simply shrugged, turning to pick up the shards of glass scattered on the floor as to suppress the inevitable tears rimming her eyes. “Not sure what you’re talking about, but it’s time I get going.”

Liz: As Ariana turned away from her, bending to pick up the shards of glass, Liz leaned her elbows on the counter top, her forehead coming to rest in her palms. This was all so much to take in. Catching her best – former best friend in the act of snorting a line of cocaine surely had struck her hard; a blow that knocked the wind out of her harder than any of the stinging texts that had been exchanged between the two. If the floor could part in two and swallow her whole, she wouldn’t complain in the slightest. Her heart ached in her chest, so much so that she was finding it difficult to keep her emotions in check. This pain was so unknown to her, for while she was wallowing in her self-pity for pushing the one person she’d truly loved away, without her knowledge, the other had been destroying herself for who knew how long. She tried to gain a bit of courage to speak out for what she’d just witnessed, and as a result, she stood straight once again and reached forward, allowing a delicate hand to grasp Ariana’s petite shoulder. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Though her tongue was heavy with intoxication, she pressed forward, trying to maintain her level of bravado. “Why in God’s name are you doing blow? Why the fuck are you destroying yourself? This is so unlike you.” She swallowed harshly, still trying tirelessly to keep her emotions in check. “Don’t…don’t go.” Her voice quavered in an almost desperate-sounding plea, for all prior assertiveness had vanished into the ether. “Please.”

Ariana: Ariana was quick to tear her shoulder away from the gentle contact of Liz’s palm, lowly growling through gritted teeth, “Don’t touch me.” Dropping the glass she had collected in her palm against the tile once more, she slowly eased up from her crouched position, turning casually on her heel to redirect her focus, her dark, lifeless gaze piercing that of the other girl’s. “How would you know what’s like and unlike me, exactly?” she questioned, the expression on her face notably callous considering the state of her mind. Eyes that once danced with light are now vacant and staring; the mouth that was so quick to smile in life lies stiff. She felt anger, and she felt sadness, yet she also felt a sense of fear settling deep in her core. Coming face to face with the person who had so easily walked out of her life not even two weeks prior seeming so alarmed and confused as to why things were now different caused her insides to tighten, already apparent anxiety flaring even more. Pursing her lips, she took another step back, angling her figure towards the exit. “Just drop it, Liz,” she snapped, shaking her head slowly. “I’m not even sure why you’re pretending to care about what I do with myself.”

Liz: As Ariana jerked her shoulder away from Liz’s gentle grip, her hand fell back to her side, as if it was sheer dead-weight. It took her back for a moment, but she couldn’t say she was surprised. At this point, after everything she’d discovered in that bathroom, nothing really surprised her anymore. She tried once more to collect herself before speaking, though this time, it was to no avail, for as her mind processed everything that was unfolding before her, tears welled up in her piercing eyes. “I know what’s like you because I’ve been your best friend for eight years. I know I threw it all away. The radio silence and angry texts between us have been enough of a reminder. You don’t need to tell me twice. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know you. Nor does it mean that I never cared about you.” She paused, leaning her behind against the counter to steady herself and give her ample support, since she didn’t entirely have her bearings under the spell of the booze she’d consumed. “I don’t want to drop it. I’m not pretending. This worries the fuck out of me. How can you say I don’t care about you?” She kept her gaze trained steadily on the woman in front of her. “I care more than you could ever imagine.” A few tears managed to slip down her porcelain cheeks as she spoke, but she quickly swiped them away, so as not to allude any further to weakness. “Just…hear me out for a second, before you go. Please. I need to tell you something. Something that I never planned on telling you.” Liz was uncertain where she’d mustered the distinct amount of courage to finally share what had been on her mind for as long as she could remember, but she didn’t dare question it in that moment. Sure, the alcohol had made her more vocal, more emotional even, but at long last, after finally being able to come to terms with how she felt, she was ready to speak. And she had to lay it all out there before Ariana ran off and she lost her willpower to share. “I bolted that night because I was scared.” After drawing in a shaky breath to calm her erratically beating heart, she was able to continue. “Not because of what we were doing. What we were doing felt…right to me. Nothing has ever felt more right to me. But I almost told you something. Something that I wasn’t willing to share because it terrifies the fuck out of me. I almost told you…that I loved you. I was so wrapped up in that moment that I let my feelings nearly slip out of my mouth. I couldn’t do that, Ariana. I just couldn’t. The truth of the matter is that I do love you; fuck, I’m in love with you, and I have been for nearly as long as I can remember. And you know why it’s always scared me to own up to that? Because you were my best friend. Nothing more, nothing less. I didn’t want to ruin that by scaring you off. And more importantly, I didn’t want you entangled with the mess that eternally floats around me. I’m a goddamn fucking disaster. And you don’t deserve to be exposed to that. I was trying to protect you. But now? Now that you want nothing to do with me, I’ve been able to sit myself down and admit it. Why? Because I have nothing to lose. I’ve already lost you. And when I lost you, I also lost myself. Is there really anything else that I can throw away? I know how awful I was to you – I continued to push you away so you wouldn’t become suspicious. Pushing you away didn’t prove to be satisfying in the least. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more heartbroken. I was suffering from my own self-inflicted misery, and I didn’t even take the time to think about how it would impact you. Or how you would feel. And I’m sorry for that. I’m so sorry. This isn’t me asking for your forgiveness. This is just me, telling you the truth, for the first time in eight damn years, about how I really feel. You needed to know. I couldn’t let you walk away for the last time without at least hearing that. You deserved a proper explanation.” By the time Liz had finished her speech, her tears were running freely down her face. She didn’t bother to wipe them away or try to mask them, for she was, for the first time, completely unguarded. A gasping sound escaped from the back of her throat as she tried to choke back a building sob, and failed. “You can go now, if you want. Sorry for holding you up. I’ll take care of the mess I made.” She concluded, at last dropping her gaze from Ariana’s in shame and remorse.

Ariana: ‘I’m in love with you.’ Those words shot through her eardrums like fired bullets, piercing her skull with unceasing shock. It couldn’t be true– she had to be lying– however, her friend’s behavior was significantly abnormal. Throughout those past eight years, Ariana had never seen Liz open up with such vulnerability. After the confession came to a conclusion, she merely stood there, struggling to take in all of this sudden information while her mind remained a surging complexity. Her attention locked onto tears rolling slowly from ivory skin, and, with that, brick by brick, her walls came tumbling down. As much as she attempted to hold it in, the disorientation emerged like an uproar from her throat in the form of a silent scream. Tears of her own came trickling down, one after another, showing no signs of stopping. “And you kept that from me all this time?” Ariana inquired, attempting to collect the erratic mess of her thoughts to find his voice. Chapped lips trembled, and gaunt shoulders heaved with emotion; a thrashing heartbeat wracked against her chest, and still she did not look away, refusing to direct her gaze elsewhere. “Did you ever stop for one second to consider how I felt?! What you did fucking hurt. I… I couldn’t even begin to describe to you how it feels for the one person you trust– the one person you had left– to up and leave and treat you like you never meant anything to them.” Words backed with clear anger and pain flowed from her lips, an abrupt burst of confidence pulsing through her veins. Though her voice still quaked, and the distress painted across her face remained, suppressed thoughts were finally coming to light, the cocaine high hitting her with full force. “I blamed myself the entire time. The entire goddamn time, Liz! All I could manage to ask myself was… ‘how could I have been so stupid to believe she really cared?’ You called me a piece of meat.” Her tone of voice, which had been so utterly fueled with rage, immediately went cold. It was as though a blazing pit of fire was frozen over. “I’m going to be completely honest with you. Before you left, I was convinced that I loved you. Wholeheartedly. And, god fucking… damn… I don’t know… maybe I do,” the girl choked out, shooting her focus to the floor with a sniffle or two while fingers absentmindedly toyed with the gauze wrapped around her knuckles. “But not when you’re like that.”

Liz: Liz’s heart lurched painfully in her chest – the minute tears were brought to Ariana’s eyes and spilled unceasingly down her cheeks, it took everything in her to keep from collapsing to the tiled floor with how distraught she was. Her friend’s words were daggers, cutting deeply into her soul and making a soft, yet shrieking, whimper escape from parted lips. She was at long last allowing her bottled up emotions bubble to the surface and flow freely, a release she’d truly needed for years on end, but never really found. “I don’t know how I kept it from you for so long. Somehow, I managed to push my feelings away. I’ve always wanted you to be happy. And I never thought that sort of happiness included me putting my heart on the line. You always deserved so much more than I could ever give you. Like I said, I’m a fucking disaster. You don’t need that. But I also didn’t want to put myself through the pain of fucking up our friendship. I sincerely thought that you’d be mortified if I ever told you that I’d fallen for you. I didn’t think you could show any interest in me beyond friendship, let alone any females, for that matter. That’s why I kept this from you for so long.” She allowed herself to continue weeping, her figure relaxing from an upright, tensed position, to a crumpled, slouched contortion that was so unlike her usual stature in every way. Another violent sob wracked her form as she blubbered, her chest heaving heavily as she tried to no avail to get any oxygen at all into her burning lungs. “I’m so sorry I hurt you. I wasn’t thinking, at all, about you, or anyone. I hurt myself, too, more than you could believe. I…I thought I was doing the right thing by pushing you away – after I’d talked to someone, she told me that it wasn’t healthy to dwell on you for so long. So I did the only thing I knew, and drove you away, just like I drive everyone else away. I know there’s nothing I can really do to fix how much pain I’ve caused you, but I swear to you, everything I said after what happened between was untrue. I didn’t mean any of it. I love you beyond words. I have for so long. There’s no faking that.” She choked out, keeping her gaze averted from Ariana’s. If she didn’t feel destroyed yet, the next words that left her friend’s mouth fully reemphasized her self-loathing. ‘But not when you’re like that,’ resonated through her mind, becoming an echoing warning. “I’m so sorry…” She let out in response, for it was all she could muster before she collapsed to the floor in anguish, her tears blinding her sight and making it impossible for her to bother keeping any ounce of composure anymore.

Ariana: Mascara stains tracked down hollowed cheeks, slowly melting from her eyelashes with each tear that was produced. Ariana couldn’t recall a previous time she had ever felt so muddled– so lost in her own confusion. Her breath heaved, shallow, lungs incapable of moving much against suddenly heavy ribs, and she fought to reclaim control over her thoughts, shocked by the sounds escaping from deep within her chest. “I…. I just don’t… underst…” a soft, wavering voice trailed off, the conscience in her mind distorting into some sort of static presence. Incoherent speech spilled from her mouth. She had lost it. Ariana felt as though her heart and head were being roughly yanked in a million different directions, mentally replaying the information that had just been brought to light over and over in an attempt to make some sense of what was happening. A quick glimpse up brought on the visual of Liz collapsing to the floor. At first, there was silence– a misty haze upon the horizons of her mind– before her remaining thread of strength frayed prior to breaking completely, Ariana’s own limbs succumbing to the weighing stress. Like a porcelain vase being knocked onto a marble floor, her last shred of normalcy shattered into a million pieces. Time had seemed to fast forward. She couldn’t remember the briefest of moments until her head rolled up, stinging, blurred vision struggling to focus on the figure in front of her. In time, she managed to shift her body to reach out and touch Liz’s forearm, and her fingers slowly trailed down, locating the palm of her hand and squeezing it in her own. Her heart still ached in despair, and the static in her head was only growing louder, but she felt physically inept in expressing any further emotions.

Liz: Liz tried, to no avail, to put an end to the frequent sobs and gasps that continued to momentarily asphyxiate her. With an aching diaphragm and tired eyes, which continued to shed a steady stream of tears, she sat on the floor, knees pulled tightly into her chest, no longer finding it in her power to hold anything back. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried so heavily, or if she’d ever been so in touch with her emotions, but at least she could say that she felt. For once in her life, she wasn’t pretending to be an emotionally devoid shell. She ached openly, not realizing earlier how substantial was her pain. And while she sat there crying, her vision clouded with running makeup and lingering remnants of salty sadness, only followed by fresh batches, she hardly noticed that Ariana, too, had found her way to fall beside her on the floor. Her form was wracked with each unsteady breath she took, met only once more with inevitable sobs. She had nothing she could say anymore, for she was verbally spent, and at this point, too hysterical to be coherent. With her head falling into her knees, she closed her eyes and sniffled, trying to create a barrier that prevented more tears from flowing from her ducts. It was then, while her sight was blocked by tightly shut lids, that she felt frail fingers travel down her forearm. For a second, her sobs quieted in magnitude, for she was astonished. She could feel the hand of her friend travel to her own, and as she pressed their palms together, Liz’s fingers naturally curved around Ariana’s. Lifting her head, she brought herself to open her eyes, tears filling them anew. She glanced over at the woman beside her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before snapping her gaze to the tiled floor and inhaling a shallow, shaky breath.

Ariana: When Liz initially lifted her gaze, Ariana tried to smile. She might have succeeded if she knew what she was smiling about. As it was, all she managed was a minimal tightening of the jaw. Truthfully, there wasn’t anything in that moment to smile about. Although the two sat there together, hands interlocked, the atmosphere in that room couldn’t have been anything less than desolate. A faint humming of the bass could be discerned from the revelry they left behind, but, apart from that and the exhaling of stuttering breaths, dead silence filled the air. No strength, nor desire, to move, Ariana remained in that position as minutes ticked by; she still was at a complete loss as to how to handle this situation, her mental fortitude entirely exhausted. Eventually, it came to a point in which she knew she couldn’t sit there forever, no matter how inviting and ideal that concept seemed. “I should probably get going,” she murmured and bit down harshly on her lower lip, breaking the quietude surrounding them. With slight hesitation, she unlatched their palms and gripped onto the counter to cautiously pull herself up, taking a lengthy moment or two to steady herself. Her attention immediately fell upon the shattered mirror and the remnants of her wasted blow, and, with a quick turn on her heel, she looked back to the other woman still sunk to the floor. “Don’t tell anyone about this. Please. It can’t get out.” Dark, lackluster orbs widened in fear as the dreaded scenario of her vice being exposed looped in her mind. Her breathing suddenly became erratic, deep, then shallow. “I’m begging you.”

Liz: As the two sat in silence with hands interlocked, for what, to Liz, seemed like hours, she could feel herself beginning to grow more weary. After her erratic outpouring of emotion, she truly had nothing left in her. Tipping her head back, she closed her eyes once more, merely allowing the warmth of the alcohol to course through her veins and the residual tears to slip effortlessly down her cheeks. A few shaky inhales and exhales became enough to steady her breathing and bring her a bit more ease from the prior tightness she felt building in her chest. She willed her eyes to remain closed, for her eyelids had grown quite heavy, only opening them once Ariana shifted and released her hand. The sound of her voice brought Liz's gaze to rest on her. She nodded slowly, her desire to expend more energy to speak being minimal. Eyes trained in daft concentration as her friend collected herself and turned on her heel. As she was about to exit, Liz's ears pricked up at her plea; the desperation in her tone of voice was painfully apparent. Liz brought herself to speak, though her speech was thickened with drowsiness from her breakdown and alcohol consumption. "I won't." She croaked, her voice cracking from its earlier misuse. She swallowed, trying to push back the dryness in the back of her throat before she uttered one more simple word that would make all the difference. With cold, visibly drained orbs locking on Ariana's, she nodded for reassurance. "Promise."

[wolfstardrool]

Black lives matter

okay, i'm going to try to adress this without getting angry over here in my bed (that's probably not gonna work out). As probably everyone knows by now, about 2 weeks ago, George Floyd was killed by a cop. He was being arrested for allegedly using a forged 20 dollar bill. While being escorted to the car, George did nothing but coöperate, until they reached the car. George said he didn't want to get in the backseat, because he was claustrophobic. The police put him there anyways, and he started to hyperventilate. The cop pulled him out of the car and George fell onto the ground. That's when Derek Chauvin put his knee on his neck, for 8 minutes and 46 seconds, making it impossible to breath. Derek Chauvin is the cop who murdered George Floyd. While these cops have been fired, arrested and rightfully procecuted, racism is still a huge problem.

okay so that was the basic info if anyone didn't know yet :) so get ready for my rant now pls. It's not because George's killers have been procecuted that we should stop raising our voices. Racism is still everywhere. In every single country, every single city, every single village, there is racism. People like Breonna Taylor, Trayvon Martin, Eric Garner, Ahmaud Arbery and so many more were killed by the police, purely based off of skin colour. None of these deaths were self defense, but none of the killers are in jail for their crimes. This kind of injustice is disgusting. Their families are living, or trying to live, with the fact that the person they love was killed, and didn't get any justice. We as a community have to stand up for what is right. We white people should use our voice and our privilege to do something about this.

Only a few Black lives are tolerated in this world, and that's unacceptable. All Black lives should and do matter. Not just that, they are and should be appreciated, loved and needed. Right now it's extremely important we work together and join our forces, Black, White, Green, Blue, whatever your skincolour may be. You have a voice, use it. It's not enough to be non-racist, you need to be actively anti-racist. Let me explain this for you. I understand that some of you don't understand how 'just not saying anything' is just as bad. In a world filled with social media, filled with informational videos, pictures and posts, is it so hard to just share it? Just put it on your story, spread awareness. Even the littlest things can make a change. If you choose not to share, you choose not to take the side of the Black community, thus taking the side of the oppressor. If you come across racism in real life, if you hear someone say racial slurs, or racist comments, and you choose not to say anything, you are choosing to stay silent, to let racism live on inside people, thus choosing the side of the oppressor.

In this case, right now, the oppressor is the police. And no, not all police, but some, and especially the system. The one thing that needs to change right now is the American ( and probably some other countries) police system. No, not all cops are bad, yes, it's only a few bad apples, but the problem is: there shouldn't be any bad apples. It's not acceptable for there to be bad cops who walk around killing people. A lot of cops who have killed people, not as self defense, but masked it as that, are still working as a cop to this day, because the system is flawed. If they would take the time to actually look at the facts, they would see some things aren't self defense. All these protests prove just that. People who were peacefully protesting, doing nothing illegal, were hit by teargas, rubber bullets, etc. Yes, there are people who raid shops, yes, they have crossed the line, but don't generalize them. Don't complain about how we generalize every cop as a bad cop if you generalize every protester as a thug.

also another thing. If you go protesting, try as hard as you can to follow the rules about social distancing, the virus still exists. Wear gloves, a mask and make sure to bring hand sanitizer. Also try to be safe and bring water, to drink or if you get hit by tear gas. Please, please protest, but be safe and try to think about the virus. I know it's almost impossible to keep enough distance, but the least you can do is try. that kind of was my rant, i'll leave a few ways to help and chip in.

sign petitions:

there's a link in my bio that will take you to a website. if you choose for the option "sign petitin", you get a list of websites that have petitions concerning George Floyd and the BLM movement. Please check this out, it's an easy way to help, and you don't necessarely have to have money.

donate:

if you go to the link in my bio once again, you can also choose the option "donate" or "call or text". When you call or text, you get a number, i don't really remember which ones but they'll mention it and say what you need to text to what number. These texts cost about 10 cents, and all money will go to George Floyds family or the BLM movement.

watch a video:

If you don't have any access to money, or your parents won't allow you to donate, watching youtube videos is a great solution. Youtubers like