#women of color have to put up with so much disrespect and hatred

[hippityhoppityyourenowmyproperty]

This is outrageous. A white woman loses to a woman of color in a fair fight after forfeiting, cries white woman tears, and gets $50,000 by an intersexist organization while the woc is publicly harrassed and villified and racist assholes insist she's a violent, monstrous abomination.

[tressasinterlude]

𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓 #𝟑: Female Public Figures Dating Men with Questionable Views That Contradict Their Image & Alleged Politics

𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗖𝗟𝗔𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗥: These rant blog posts are really just reflective of my thoughts at the time that I make them and are posted here because I need an outlet to release all of this shit I have going on my busy ass mind. That’s it and that’s all. Now let’s get into it..

This rant was greatly inspired by none other than Ms. Robyn Rihanna “Tell Your Faves To Pull Up [in regards to social injustices directly affecting black people]” Fenty and her openly colorist boyfriend, A$AP Rocky. Aside from the fact that Rihanna tends to slip under the radar and is never held accountable for her problematic ways due to her conventional beauty (i.e. Her heavy usage of anti-Asian slurs, particularly targeted towards Chris Brown’s ex gf, Karrueche), it’s very alarming that a woman who has an entire makeup brand with a campaign based around the inclusivity of ALL black women is publicly flaunting a beau who once said that DSBW do not look good with red lipstick.

And yes, I’m very much aware that Rakim said this tasteless comment over 8 years ago but from the looks of it, not much has really changed with him. Don’t @ me about it neither because I don’t care.

Also peep how he compares a hypothetical darkskinned woman to a man (Wesley Snipes) while trying to explain how his antiblackness isn’t wrong because he said something about white women as well. Gaslighting at its finest. Don’t you just love it! 😀

Furthermore, you would think that somebody of Rihanna’s level of stature would know not to associate themselves with someone as messy as A$AP Rocky but... Stupid is what stupid does, I guess! I can’t even begin to place the blame on him anymore because he’s revealed his true colors and we all have made the deliberate choice to either accept it or don’t and have discontinued all support for him. Unfortunately, misogynoir is never the dealbreaker for most people and the hatred for [dark-skinned] black women is so engrained in society that it’s frowned upon when we publicly speak out against it. Very ass backwards if you ask me but that’s society for you. Now, enough about that. Let’s focus back on Ms. Vita La Coco.

As a woman who claims to be a girl’s girl and is always presenting herself to be someone who is the epitome of a pro-black feminist bad ass, it just makes her alleged activism come off so disingenuous when she’s also laying down with the same man that actively attacks the demographic she’s supposed to be standing in solidarity with. It’s “Black Lives Matter” on the IG posts but your vagina is getting moist for a man who openly stated he doesn’t relate to what goes on in Ferguson because he lives in Soho & Beverly Hills. Ferguson being the exact place where a 17-year-old black boy’s lifeless corpse laid on the hot concrete for FOUR hours after he was murdered by a police officer. He couldn’t 'relate' to the fate of so many black men, women, and children who are murdered or seriously injured from state-sanctioned violence because they’re poor and he is not or so he thought.

But then again, what can I really expect from a woman who identified as being “biracial” until as recent as roughly 6 years ago? What can I really expect from a woman who called Rachel Dolezal a ‘hero’ for cosplaying as a black woman? I’d be lying if I said my expectations for her were high in this regard because sis has always shown us she was lacking in this department. And just for the record, this is not a personal attack on Rihanna at all for the die-hard Navy stans in the back. I admire her latest fashions and bop my head to her music just like the next person but she’s getting the side-eye from me on this one.

Trust and believe me though, she’s not the only woman who I can call out for being a hypocrite. Of course not! This stone can be cast at a few others. So without further ado, why don’t we bring Ms. Kehlani Parrish to the front of the congregation? Prior to Kehlani’s recent declaration of identifying as a lesbian, her last public relationship with a man was with YG. Yes, the same YG who felt it was necessary to say him & Nipsey had ‘pretty light-skinned’ daughters to raise in the middle of his deceased friend’s memorial. By the way, Nipsey’s daughter is not even light (or at least not in my book anyways.) She’s a very deep caramel tone just like her father which makes what he said even more moronic. Yes, the same YG who thought it was clever idea to use slavery as an aesthetic for a music video to a diss track about 6ix9ine. And yes, also the same YG who has derogatory lyrics targeted at bisexual women. Just to end up sweating the red carpets with one. I swear the jokes just continue to write themselves.

This raises the question once more; How high of a pedestal can I really put a multiracial woman who has a song titled ‘N*ggas’ and when received backlash for the song in question, she used the ultimate ‘I’m mixed’ copout while not having a visibly black parent in sight?

It’s also kind of suspicious to me that many were not privy to Kehlani’s secret romance with Victoria Monét (pictured bottom right) until Victoria did an interview with Gay Times revealing she fell in love with a girl but they subsequently broke up because Victoria had a boyfriend and that girl was pregnant in a polyamorous relationship. Fans began to speculate because both Victoria & Kehlani previously candidly spoke about their sexual orientations, Kehlani had just had Adeya and they both were seemingly close. Their short-lived fling would later be confirmed when Victoria released the song ‘Touch Me’ on her last project and Kehlani hopped on the remix. Meanwhile, Kehlani’s relationship with Shaina (pictured bottom left) was very overt and all over her Instagram feed from my recollection. And as you can see, Shaina looks absolutely nothing like Victoria. They look like the complete opposite of eachother in every aspect which is kind of alarming(?) to say the least because why is it that the women she proudly claims as her partners tend to have a very racially ambiguous look such as herself but her ‘sneaky links’ on the other hand are undoubtedly black women? Again, it could just be me jumping conclusions. You know, I’m kinda good for that however something tells me I’m not. Y’all be the judge of the material though.

Last but not least, I’d like to touch on Ms. Raven Tracy very briefly. I was very weary about even including in this segment and if I should just put her in a entirely separate blog post with other women who openly date abusers despite their checkered past (alongside Nicki Minaj & her r*pist murderer of a husband, India Love & Sheck Wes etc.) being this particular blog post was based around the theme of lightskinned/mixed women dating men with extremely problematic views about DSBW. Raven obviously isn’t lightskinned or mixed however I refused to ignore how contradictory her [former] relationship with an alleged (I used this word very loosely and mainly for legality purposes.) serial r*pist while promoting a brand that is all about feminism & body positivity. This also traces back to A$AP Rocky by default being that Ian Connor is his very close friend and he came to Connor’s defense when several women came forward detailing accounts of Connor allegedly s*xually assaulting them. (I wish I could place the actual video of what A$AP Rocky said verbatim but Tumblr only allows one video per blog post. 🙄)

Back in June of this year, Ian & Raven had a back & forth on Twitter after Ian tweeted about Raven “fucking everybody” behind his back. I can only assume that he was alluding to Tori Brixx posting a video of her ex, Rich the Kid & Raven kissing on her story. Disgusted is not even the word to describe my feeling when she admitted she stuck by Ian despite of his many allegations of s*xual abuse because she loved him and her being a empath causes her to want to help everybody. Imagine aiding and abetting a predator and even paying for his bail & legal fees just to turn around and expect sympathy because this same individual cheated on you and exploited you all over Twitter for the public to see. The same man that you would get back with not even a WEEK after the fact & turn off your IG comments because it isn’t our “business” after making it our business...

That being said, I just genuinely want to know: Why do these women completely go against what they stand for in regards to these men? Maybe it was never genuine from jump street and if that’s the case, why jump on the bandwagon of performative activism? Is it because it’s profitable right now? Is it because disrespecting black women is not an immediate death sentence to your careers and more often than not actually helps you advance even further? I guess that’s the billion dollar question that’ll never truly be answered. I just want the world to stop using black women as their stepping stool to get to where they need to go and then discarding of us when we’re no longer beneficial. Support us all the way or don’t support us at all. We deal with enough disrespect as is so we’d appreciate if y’all would stop straddling the fence and partake in your misogynoir out loud if that’s what you choose to do. We have no use for fake allyship and quite frankly, it’s doing more harm for us than good. Please and thank you!

Sincerely,

- 𝙼𝙸𝚂𝚂 𝙴𝙳𝙶𝙰𝚁 𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙴𝙽 𝙷𝙾𝙴. 💋

[r3almellow]

Lucien and Victor With A S/o Who Deals With Discrimination

Thank you @dummys-fics​ for the request!

As someone who is not only a minority, but is currently living in a place where they’re seen as “strange” or an oddity, I completely understand this 2000%. I’m so sorry that you’ve had to go through such things. 

I will say I did use my own experiences and the experiences of others for this, so fair warning for those who don’t want to read such a subject. I did try to make it as vague as possible so that many of us can relate. 

Warning: Microaggression/Discrimination/Racism

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Victor

Rude remarks and not so subtle stares pertaining to your appearance were things you’ve had to deal with ever since you were a child. You spent your whole life being treated different from those around you and usually, you never let things get to you. Usually....

Victor invited you to a charity event that was being thrown by one of his business associates. 

You were left alone for a while with Victor promising to return to your side after leaving to talk with someone. 

This left you open for people to talk with you. Not only were a well known producer but you were also dating the worlds most sought after CEO of a multi-billion dollar company, so this was to be expected. 

However, you felt like you were in a petting zoo and you were the animal. This wasn’t new, but after years of having to deal with this you couldn’t shake the burning hatred you had for people like them. 

“Your hair is just so different. How on earth do you manage to wash it?” These magical things called shampoo and conditioner....and water. Please stop touching my hair... “My apologies! Its so...fascinating!”

“Why did you decide to come to this country? Don’t you miss your home?” I was born here just like you. “Ah! So your parents immigrated here? That explains it! You know...I’ve always been on the fence about immigration. So many foreigners come and take ou-”

“Wow! I never thought someone like you would catch Mr. Li’s eye!” Someone like me? “Yes! Its quite surprising that he would choose someone so different.” 

In other words, what Victor saw in you was unfathomable to others. No matter how much you spoke like them, lived like them, and acted like them; you were never going to be seen as one of them. 

You had to bite the inside of your cheek for that last remark, the urge to runaway growing stronger. You couldn’t embarrass Victor in front of all his colleagues. You just had to suck it up and smile it off until he returned to your side.  

Little did you know, Victor was within ear shot and had witnessed your ordeal despite being caught up in a conversation. He knew leaving you alone would be risky, but never did he think the men and women he spent years developing professional relationships with could be so...disgusting.

You feel his warm hands intertwine with yours as he stepped forward. His hard stare finding its way to the person who made the careless statement.

“I have decided to break our contract and will no longer be doing business with you. If you have any questions please direct them to my assistant as I refuse to associate with someone who is as ill-mannered as you.” The person’s mouth hung open as did the rest of the group at Victor’s sudden declaration. “If the rest of you condone this act of disrespect then I’ll have to reconsider our future as partners as well.” And with that, Victor pulls you away, leaving the shocked group behind.

A part of you feels a little bad that Victor had to go that far over you, but the look on their faces was definitely a moment that needed to be framed and put on your wall as a great reminder of how amazing your boyfriend is.

“I honestly feel bad that you lost one of your business partners, but I do appreciate you coming to my aid like that.” 

Just like that the world stops. No music from the orchestra or the laughter from guests could be heard. Waiters with trays and wine bottles in hand frozen in place along with the rest of the people. 

Victor turns to you with a deep rooted scowl. 

“I only did what needed to be done. They have a mindset that is beyond deplorable. I will not have my name or my company be tied to people like that. I also won’t tolerate anyone who dares disrespect you in such a way.” 

Overall

Victor will never let anyone disrespect you in any way, shape or form. Now, put racism and/or discrimination on top of that? Best believe, Victor will shut that shit down quick. The way he’ll sue them for everything they’ve got on top of cut their asses up with his sharp tongue and still keep it classy?! Those people are about to be destitute and traumatized. 

Lucien

You’re at a café waiting on Lucien to show up for your lunch date. He’s running a little late due to being held up with work, but you don’t mind. You occupy your time by finding random things to do through your phone. 

Out of the corner of your eye you notice a group of people, who looked to be university boys, at another table looking over at you every so often before whispering amongst themselves. 

When they look over at you for the second time you hear a few chuckles causing your eyebrow twitch. They were definitely talking about you. 

One of them pulled out their phone, aiming it in your direction. Ah...so that’s how it is. You experienced this before, on trains mostly. Rude people trying to take a photo of you for whatever weird reason they may have. Usually it was because you were an “anomaly” to them.  And they weren’t subtle about taking the pictures at all. You’d be sitting across from them minding your own business and then snap! The loud shutter sound echoing throughout the quiet train. 

Sometimes you called people out on their rudeness, cursing them out and seeing their eyes widen and cheeks flush in embarrassment always brought you joy. They probably didn’t anticipate you calling them out and assumed you didn’t speak the language which made things all the more sweeter. 

Other times you had no energy to battle with them. You hated how people sometimes looked at you like you had grown two heads and how surprised they were to see you living your life just like them. 

This wasn’t the 5th century anymore. People in this country came in all shapes, colors, and sizes. Clearly, these people didn’t get the memo. 

Soooo, you were feeling a little petty today. 

You were ready let them know they weren’t slick with their antics by flipping them off. Was it a childish move? Yes. Did you care? Not at all. 

You make your move just as they took the picture, giving them the angriest look you can muster with your middle finger at the ready. 

You watch as the guys all crowd around their friend with the phone and grin as you see their unhappy expressions as they look at the photo. 

You smile at your little victory, but that smile quickly turned to confusion when you saw a familiar body looming over the group. 

It was...Lucien? You couldn’t hear what was being said but the pure horror that spreads across each individuals face in a matter of seconds indicates those boys were in trouble. 

A few seconds later, Lucien is before you shedding himself of his coat to take a seat, the group of boys scurrying out of the café like bats out of hell. 

He smiles softly at you as he sits down, completely ignoring the dumbfounded look on your face.

“Forgive my lateness. Did you order already?” 

Like hell you were just going to ignore what transpired. 

“Do you know them?”

You couldn’t hide your laughter once Lucien informed you those boys were his first year students from one of his lectures. Now, you know you had a bit of pettiness in you, but Lucien is a whole different monster when it comes to dishing out punishment. 

“Let me guess, you told them to write a five paged paper on how discrimination effects us and our view of the world due by the weekend?”

Lucien looks up from the menu at you slightly confused.  

“Now why would I do that? I’d like to think 10 pages due by tomorrow morning is more fitting.” 

Overall

Lucien won’t sit back and watch people disrespect you in anyway. Rest assured that our professor will have those people fearing for their lives all with a smile on his face. 

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Like my work?! Please check out my MLQC Masterpost for more! 

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

The other world 6

epilogue will be posted soon

As you finally looked behind, you saw the kitchen was not in the same condition that you remembered. The wooden cabinets began to rot,  layers of wallpaper began to peel away from the walls and The floor was damp, like someone had left the kitchen tap on for too long.

The damage only seemed to spread as you walked forward. The house was deteriorating and the once wondrous charm became something much more nightmarish.

“Diavolo, I’ve returned with the eyes!” you yelled in a voice filled with hatred but he delivered no response, almost like he’d disappeared.

“Do I have to find you?! You expect me to continue with these games!” you yelled as you looked around the house while stomping your feet.

“(Y/n) don’t let your anger get the best of you, this could very well be another trap” Abbaccio said as readjusted himself in your arms.

The echo of footsteps from behind caught your attention, you swung your head to see who it was but you saw nobody. The atmosphere grew heavy and you began to find yourself short of breath with little to no air able to get in your lungs. You dropped Abbaccio as you grabbed at your neck to see if you were being choked, however you weren’t. You pounded at your chest and choked on your own voice as you had no idea on what was happening to you. You slumped against the peeling wall as your vision blurred and black specks consumed your vision before you dropped to the floor.

🌌🌌🌌

You rubbed your face as you regained consciousness. You looked at the ceiling before sitting up. You thought you were in the living room but everything seemed so different. The walls were red with a white diamond shape and all the furniture was colored the same except for a pink clock that looked like a face with green eyes. The fireplace glowed an ominous green as familiar trinkets sat above it. Plastered on the walls were various pictures of men who looked rather similar to Doppio and Diavolo along with women that were no doubt the spectras you were helping.

You looked at your various injuries to see that they had been tightly stitched. You yawned before you heard footsteps approaching. You turned your head to the entrance to see Diavolo walk it with an eerie smirk on his face that looked like pale, cracked porcelain. He was dressed in a striped suit and his hair was pulled back into a ponytail, only making him look more uncanny. Walked past you with a gleam in his button eyes before he sat at the long chair opposite of you.

“You’re such a disrespectful darling… I go to the effort of cleaning your wounds and you don’t even bother to thank me, or even greet me” he sighed. You gritted your teeth as you glared daggers, he had the audacity to say such a thing after the torment he put you though.

“Surely you understand the tough love I've had to resort to?” he asked but did not allow you to respond.

“I need you to stay here with me or else this very world will crumble” he explained.

You scoffed at Diavolo.

“This world revolves around you, and by rejecting it you are destroying it… I don’t think you understand the damage you have caused” he stated in a cool tone, trying to get some response from you.

“This world can crumble for all I care, It’ll be better than spending the rest of my life with a monster like you!” you hissed.

“Now can you quit stalling and give me my final task!” you continued.

Diavolo sighed as he grabbed a box off of the coffee table and put it on his lap before opening it and stabbing his long needle of a finger stabbed something inside it, only to pull out some brownish bug with a greenish substance oozing out of it. You shuddered as he ate it with no hesitation.

“What, would you like one? They’re cocoa beetles, native delicacy from Zanzibar” he said as he offered.

“No thank you, I would just like to get to the last task” you replied with disgust.

“You remember what happens after the final trial. If you win you will return to the real world with the eyes and your family” he said followed with a smirk.

“However if I win you have to surrender your pretty little eyes and stay with me for eternity” he continued as he crossed his leg.

“If you wish to give up now there is no shame in it” he explained with a chuckle.

“I’m not going to give up now, I’m sure I’ll beat you” you retorted, only to make him laugh a little.

“You still seem so sure after you lost this” he snickered as he pulled out the pendant Gelato had gifted you.

“Yes I’m sure, now give me my final task” you hissed.

“Alright then, since you're such an insistent one” he sighed before he stood up and stood next to the fireplace.

“Each of these little trinkettes hold some very important memories to you… That is how I learnt so much about you” Diavolo mentioned as he picked one up and held it in his metallic appendages so endearingly before placing it down again and sitting next to you, letting his needles play with your hair..

“Now I want you to tell me where your parents are?” he said in words sickly sweet hiding such a deadly poison.

“I don’t have an unspoken time limit unlike last time?” you asked

“Of course not, You shouldn’t feel pressured about your decision” he replied lightly. He was acting rather calm despite the fact that he could lose everything.

You stood up and walked towards the fireplace as you felt something in your heart of hearts telling you the answer was there. As you stood there you took a deep breath before tracing your hand over the trinkets before feeling your heart skip a beat. You opened your eyes and saw that your hand was on a snowglobe. It was from the last holiday you had in the woodland cabin that your parents owned, your family used to drive down every winter until you were about ten. Then things just fell through, your family moved, money became scarce and arguments between your mother and father became the norm. Times like those old days you treasured and you were sure that deep down they did too.

“What’s the matter, dollface? You seem lost in that pretty, little head of yours” Diavolo cooed as he leaned forward and had his head resting on his hand. You turned around and gave a smile and turned to him.

“I know where they are. You completely gave it away, my parents are contained in this globe… the very manifestation of our most treasured memories” you explained to him before he held his head in his hands, avoiding your gaze.

“So I am right! Now you need to keep your end of the deal!” you yelled.

Diavolos' frame began to shake as he stood up and walked towards you as he kept his head before slapping the globe out of your hand and letting out a deranged laugh.

“Oh my darling dear, you really thought I’d give you any chance to escape” he snickered as he placed hand on your shoulder.

“You are a pathetic creature to throw a fit at my victory” you hissed.

“You were nowhere close to winning dollface, You ruined your chance at defeating me before you even came back” he stated.

“What are you even talking about?!”

“Remember the present I gave you? the one you decided to burn” he asked with an eerie grin on his face.

“You…” was the only word that escaped your mouth.

“You made your own parents experience the most painful death” he chuckled as you felt what true despair felt like, nothing ever equated to the sheer horror you experienced now. You dropped to your knees as tears filled your eyes.

“You know what happens now dear… I promise I’ll be gentle” Diavolo spoke in a sweetly venomous tone as one of his appendages lifted your head up while the other drew closer to your eye before you saw something white pounce on Diavolo, causing one of your eyes to be scratched up by his needles as he fell.

You screamed as you held your eye.

“(Y/n), quick grab the key!” Abbaccio’s voice yelled. You simply just kneed down as you felt the blood dripping from your deep wounds. You looked at Diavolo’s body to see his suit had been torn apart, exposing the skeletal body underneath. The key he’d swallowed before was clearly visible and easy enough to pull out as he grabbed Abbaccio by the neck and stood up.

“(Y/n) what are you doing?” he Abbaccio yelled.

You knew this was your chance to escape but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it, you were too deep in the throes of misery to function. Even if you did manage to leave you didn’t know how you live knowing what you had done, everyone would think you were insane if you told the truth. 

You pull your arm away from your eye for a moment only to let out a scream as you felt the pain of light hitting your damaged pupil. You covered it quickly again.

“I’ve just about had enough of you, always interfering with everything!” Diavolo hissed past his gritted teeth before throwing your feline friend to the wall.

“Things would have been so much easier if you hadn’t been sticking that nose of yours into others business” he scowled as he approached Abbaccio before rearing his leg back to kick you quickly got in front of him and took the blow.

“Leave him alone, It’s me you want not him!” you screamed at the monster in front of you as you buried your head in the carpet.

“You can do whatever you want to me, just leave him alone!” you wailed.

“(Y/n) what the hell are you doing?!” Abbaccio yelled. Unknowing as to what had caused your hysteria.

“Just leave me Abbaccio! Get out of here and never come back!” you screamed at him.

“(Y/n) what’s gotten into you?” he asked in a soft tone before a leather shoe pulled him off the ground.

“You heard her, leave…what did you think you could do to help her?” Diavolo said with a sinister smirk on his face before he kicked him off

“Besides you were only helping her for your own benefit, isn’t that right” he continued.

“You killed a man decades ago… and in death you were cursed to wander in the body of a mangy feline” he mentioned.

“What did you do to her?!” Abbaccio hissed

“Was it out of boredom or perhaps you thought helping her was going to bring you retribution to your horrible crime?” he asked as he ignored Abbaccio’s question.

“Is that true?” you hiccuped.

“Yes but-”

“See (Y/n) this cat never truly cared for you, he was only doing it for himself… He’s no different then the greedy mortal he once was” Diavolo explained as he pointed at him with a condoning look, yet in his button eyes Abbaccio could see the twisted and warped view he had put in your head was an exaggeration of the truth.

“Surely you understand now that there is no way beyond the pearly gates for you” Diavolo tried not to snicker as he looked down at Abbaccio who hissed at him, however his eyes were clouded by his sorrows.

He turned back knowing that there was no way to save you and that if he tried to attack Diavolo again he would certainly be injured or killed.

“You win for now Diavolo… but I promise you, I’ll come back and save all those you’ve wronged” Abbaccio growled at him before walking past the corner, to return to reality with a heart full of sorrow. He wanted to save you but there was no helping you in whatever state he had put you in.

You sobbed at the realization that you were never going to escape. The people you loved you would never see again and you’d never see the light of day or anything for that matter. Your heart felt like it was torn out. You had been tricked by that monster into throwing away your own freedom.

He kneeled down to your laying form.

“My doll… don’t cry, I promise you I’ll put everything back together for you” Diavolo cooed as he knelt down and pulled a few strands back.

“I can make more puppets for you to play with and make this all return to what you see fit, I can even make another Doppio if that amuses you” he continued. Before rolling you to your back.

“But first things first, I need those precious eyes you promised me” he snickered as one of his needles lightly poked your nose before moving to your wounded eye as he forced it open.

You screamed as you pounded on his chest as his over hand lingered over your head.

“I’ll get rid of this one first for you since you’ve been so compliant” he commented before stabbing three of his needle fingers deep into your eye and pulling it out with little care for you. You pulled at his ponytail and wailed in pain before he grabbed a pair of scissors and cut the optic nerve.

“Now my precious doll, do you think ivory would be a good choice?”

[system-of-a-feather]

Have you considered that the whole Super straight/bi/lesbian/gay thing came about specifically because y'all are so quick to call people transphobic? I don't understand why supporters of trans rights are so interested in whether or not people are willing to date trans people.

Like, if that's your biggest problem, you're doing well. Genuinely, what is this oppression trans ppl face if the biggest concern is getting a date? And if someone doesn't want to date a trans person, why, WHY would y'all wanna pressure them into it? What does that do for you? Isn't it dangerous for the trans person to pursue the issue once they've been turned down? Why are you encouraging them to be in a place of danger? Who cares if some people don't want to date trans people? If they're as oppressed as y'all say, that is literally the least of their concern.

I absolutely fully agree with that. It absolutely isn’t an okay thing to do and people aren’t transphobic for not wanting to date or be with a trans person. I have absolutely nothing against that.

What *does* bother me is how people go about using the “trans people are mad that we won’t date them” to straw man that most people that say that follow it up with saying “trans men aren’t real men” or combine it with “I only want to date real and natural men” which is inherently transphobic.

I fully support anyone who is just not interested in dating trans people. That’s fine, and I really don’t care. We are a blog of people who have been traumatized, abused, and sexually abused and forced upon. We would never put that upon anyone else. Our blog is first and foremost about trauma and consent and harassments is absolute big “N-O”s for us

If the majority of the people who said they didn’t want to date trans people didn’t start using “real” women and men lines, then I would have no issue with being “super straight” or “super lesbian”.

Similarly to you assuming everyone who is against it cares about if you can get a date or not and is upset about it, we are forced to assume everyone who thinks it is about that is going to use and talk like a transphobe / TERF and de-legitimize their gender identity. Most of the shit talking and memes in the Super Straight tags are dissing “new” gender labels like nonbinary or whatever and trans identities and all that, so don’t act as if this is all about predatory trans behavior and not about people being disgustingly transphobic.

If your tag and movement was solely about addressing toxic behavior in the trans community that is predatory, I would be standing with you and in support, but instead a large majority of the people in your “movement” take it as an opportunity to diss, disrespect, and let blatant transphobic / TERF rhetoric spew disgustingly on your floor and I just can’t stand for that.

As for the Trans community, our largest issue **isnt** getting a fucking date. It has never fucking been getting a date and if you really think that is the largest issue, god are you blind and deaf. 

I think the largest issue would be the overall stigma hatred and disgust many people in society hold towards people who are trans. There are also all the people who regularly threaten violence and state that they would kick the head in of anyone who they saw if they were trans or saw “a man in a dress.” There are people thinking people who are trans are secretly just pedophiles that want to fondle children. There are people who murder people for being trans. There are people who just regularly bully and make fun of people or completely cut ties with people because they are trans. There are people assaulting - physically and sexually - people who are trans just for being trans.

“In 2009, 17 percent of all reported violent hate crimes against LGBTQ people were directed against those who identified themselves as transgender, with most (11 percent of all hate crimes) identifying as transgender women.8 The remainder identified as transgender men, genderqueer, gender questioning, or intersex.” - x

“People may assume that being visibly transgender or having a transgender history is a direct cause of sexual assault. There is some truth to this: A number of murders of transgender people (particularly transgender women of color) have taken place when new sexual partners "discover" their sexual partners were assigned male at birth and/or have a penis. “ - x

I promise you, almost any of the bigotry and exclusion that people who are lesbian, bi, and/or gay experience, people who are trans also experience, but they also get it from people who are lesbian, bi, and gay.

If you want to have a discussion about the predatory nature of some people who use being trans as a means to attack and pressure people into sex or a relationship, we would be more than glad to sit down and talk about that. It is a huge problem and a disgusting one. 

If you are trans and you get rejected and then use your trans identity to try to pity and victim cry yourself a date or sex, then you are scum and worse than any transphobe out there. You don’t deserve to look at this blog or group yourself with us. Don’t be a fucking predator.

If you are one of those people, lick my boot and cry because fuck you. 

I’m not against “supers” because I think they have a right to your body. I’m against “supers” because they parade behind “I don’t like the predatory behavior!!” to be transphobic.

I understand that if some of your have been pressured into shit like this, it might be a trauma response and I understand that. I’m not actually mad at you for that because I very much understand how that works. We have been there before and have generalized horribly, but please do know a large majority of the community is not just about sexuality and who they will date. We aren’t predators. We are just people and most of us just will handle rejection like a normal god damn person. Please don’t generalize us with abusers because of a negative experience you or someone you know might have experienced.

A lot of people who are trans are far more busy and concerned with how having to choose between who they actually are and living in a constant lie to themselves and others, and being their true self and risking to upturn their entire life, loose many acquaintances, and naturally have a target on your back if you aren’t living in an area that is considerably tolerant and even then its still a risk. I don’t know where you got that getting a date is the largest issue about being trans because it never was and never is.

Please, take some time to really try to listen to us and our experiences and please don’t immediately group all trans people in with abusive people. A lot of us really don’t care about getting in people’s pants and most of it is really just about trying to live and be ourselves.

I understand the experiences are horrible and anyone who puts that pressure is horrible, but don’t let that be an excuse to spread rhetoric and hate on a group that already has an insanely high suicide rate. 

People aren’t killing themselves because they aren’t getting dates. They are killing themselves because being trans is hard and insanely difficult. Dating someone is a speck of sand in a desert.

Please don’t use that straw man on us and please don’t use it to paint all trans people as bad and worthy of hate.

Thank you.

-Ray (Gatekeeper)

[myendlessempathy]

People ask me all the time what cosmetology school is like and it’s such a different world compared to normal colleges. I feel like people have a very generic view of it and it’s not considered “tough” or “mentally challenging” just because we do hair. As a student at a prestige institute, it can be grueling but also rewarding. Most people do not realize the amount of mental strength it takes to go to a school ten hours a day, three days a week with minimal breaks and then go to a 9-5 job the rest of the week. It is some of the most tiring aspects of getting a license.

Now there are many options for cosmo schools, many community colleges offer the courses, but there are higher-end ones too like Paul Mitchell. At the end of the day though, we are all learning the same basic (and I mean basic) training to pass state board. State Board has a standard set high to make sure you and the client are safe during a service. They look at sanitation mostly however you are tested on everything you learn in school. We physically and mentally prepare ourselves up until the test day.

I never know how to answer the questions I get about cosmo school. It’s not glamourous or easy as you think, there is much about hair that we have to know behind the scenes to get you the ashy blonde that you saw on Pinterest. First of all, in order to be Platinum you must go through other hair colors. I don’t know how to put this straighter. You cannot be a dark brown and expect to be Lady Gaga overnight. It’s not doable. So much science and chemistry goes into it.

Another question I get a lot is the atmosphere of it and what’s a day like? Honestly as a person who’s tried college and it didn’t work out, this can be just as challenging. It’s women dominated industry but we are incredibly mean towards each other. It constantly is a cat fight. Now I have had my fair share of mean girls and bullying but cosmo school is a whole level different compared to a standard school. Circumstances given it is very competitive, you are stuck with each other three times a week, sun up to sun down (I am not joking when I say that). It’s more difficult in the classroom settings rather than the clinic floor. When I was in the classrooms-or upstairs is what we call it- our class alone was notorious for being catty, rude and disrespectful. No one was to mess with us, even the clinic floor knew who we were. This is not saying I was a part of this chain but I just a by stander. I had people from B side (the weekender class) makeup days and tell me they felt the tension in the room because we all hated each other.

Much of the tension comes from the shit talking. You have to pick and choose your words and battles wisely. One slip and you’re now the class bitch is how it goes. I’ve gotten plenty of petty name calling in my day...

For an industry that focuses on “being yourself” and only that, I have never seen a group of girls having so much hatred for simply being that. I simply became the enemy because I love annoying people.

I have to live a double life. I have an armor at school and it comes off at home but by that point in the evening it is 8:30 pm and I have no desire to tell my folks how it went. I also have to be someone else entirely at my job at the salon.

Cosmo school is mentally draining due to many factors other than petty girl fights, enstrained friendships and having no life. You cannot trust anyone but yourself. So many tears shed because of the self doubt you have if you compare your work to another... which is the most toxic thing in this industry. My mom always said “it takes years to grow good at something.” Meaning you’re not a star overnight. I look at my role models and how long it took them to become who they are. Or how long they fought for their talents because they believed in themselves. The pressure comes from no one but yourself because we all want to be the best.

Just like other careers, once you graduate the actual training begins. God, you know nothing in school let me tell you so drop the ego and learn something that a professional wants to teach you. Be lucky that they are willing.

Cosmo school is rewarding however, you gain knowledge and experience in a cut throat industry that most take for granted as being “easy”. You feel smarter than your clients and you know what’s best for them. Nothing is better than the feeling you get when you finish a service you’re proud of and the client adores it. You made them feel beautiful which is what we all want for our clients. You work hard (so hard!!!) for yourself, long hours and tears. Love yourself for this. You grow a sense of pride in your work and fight for it because you know you’re capabilities. You must crawl before you can walk, you must walk before you can run. You must run before you sprint. Learn it live it love it.

[lucyreviewcy]

Made in Chelsea - S1 E02

In today’s episode: Caggie makes the same joke about dressing like a painter that she made last week, Ollie ruins Gabby’s plans for his birthday by inviting Cheska and Binky (loveable Binky) to join them on their romantic getaway, and Millie goes on a date with Freddie, who has too much personality to be on this show. 

Oh! And Rosie goes shopping for dinner party outfits with Amber, says she needs more color in her life, then promptly wears all black to the dinner party. Good job, Rosie. 

If you’re ever wondering what songs were big in 2011, look no further than “Now That’s What I Call Whatever Plays Over The Endless City Montages Of Made in Chelsea.” This show also features our first international travel, so we have not just city-high-life-porn, but mountain-chateau-porn too. 

We kick off with another pointless but for some reason important social gathering, where everyone compliments Rosie for... deciding to have a dinner party and letting everyone else arrange it? I say again: good job, Rosie. Social occasions are all that these guys get up to, other than slumping into sofas and complaining about each other in apartments that look like very nice branches of Zizzi. But lest we forget, this is Jane Austen with WiFi and therefore the social events are where Shit. Gets. Real. 

Ollie also mentions that he’s turning 24 so for most of this episode I felt about 500 years old. 

So what have we learned? 

Well, mostly that 2011 is an eternity ago, particularly when we look at gender representation. The central drama is still rooted in Spenny for some reason trying to woo Cagoule even though he lives with Funda. To say that the two women are fighting over him seems disrespectful to the women, but this is the narrative the show tries to create. Even though we are less than a decade away from the day this episode aired, the way that the female characters are presented would not fly with a 2019 audience. When discussing her upcoming introduction to Caggie, Spencer doesn’t miss an opportunity to remind Funda that she’s older than him and therefore “a fair bit” older than Caggie. Funda then asks “Is she thinner than me?” and “Does she look like me?” Feminism! Is the show providing its young, predominantly female audience with a checklist of what not to put up with in a relationship?

What do we as an audience get out of Made in Chelsea? Are we watching because we know that we proles will always have the moral high-ground?  Reality TV conjures something primal in the viewer, especially shows with the mechanic of being able to “vote someone off” if they displease you. How many Strictly contestants with perfectly good footwork are eliminated because they just aren’t likeable? Do not ask for whom the bell tolls, etc. Constructed reality shows like Made in Chelsea don’t have that. I can’t vote Spencer off of the show and out of Cagoule’s life. Nevertheless: what if Spencer, the cartoon asshole who thinks he's entitled to any woman who so much as smiles at him, is provided as a lightning rod for the hatred and frustration that women feel towards this attitude in every day life? If we want to go all conspiracy-theory, we could even suggest that by providing a scapegoat mega-twat like Spencer, the show distracts us from the casual-twattery of less extreme, but equally frustrating male characters elsewhere. Spencer’s lack of removal from the show (at least in the early series) is a life lesson for its audience: you can’t always get rid of the people you disagree with. Spenny somehow continues to triumph despite treating female characters like trash - and if we have learned anything in the last eight years, it’s that yeah... sometimes the Spencer Matthews’ of the world don’t get their just deserts. Sometimes they just keep winning. 

Hugo tries to pick Spencer up for messaging Caggie after his presence with Funda at Rosie’s fancy dinner party made her so uncomfortable she left, and Spencer walks away from him. Spencer won’t even let Hugo, who also owns a penis, tell him he’s wrong. That boy who asked you out and then kissed one of your best friends at the school dance? Pikachu to Spencer’s Rai-Chu. Anakin to his Vader. The Galaxy Note 1 to Spencer’s flaming mark 7. No YOUR cultural references are dated. 

By venting all our anger at Spencer, we let other people get away with being cruel, rude or careless because they are not as bad. This applies to both media and real life. Sobering. Keep your outrage dry!

Another excellent Spencer moment which sums up so much about this series and its ideology is this: “I can’t break up with Funda because I would have to hire a removal van.” Even though money is no problem for Spencer, the main reason he’s worried about breaking up with Funda and her tiny, angry dog is that it would be inconvenient. This is the essential issue the show butts up against: if money is no object and everything is possible, where does the tension come from? 

The result is that the characters fear two things, the twin demons Awkwardness and Inconvenience. Caggie runs away from dinner with her friends because she’s made to feel awkward. Gabby is worried that her relationship with Ollie has become awkward. Binky’s lateness to Ollie’s birthday meal is both inconvenient and awkward and if she weren’t loveable Binky she would be burned at the stake for such a crime. 

In fact, buff-overgrown-hobbit Freddie sticks out like a sore thumb in the cast because he can’t muster enough awkwardness for the plot to evolve. His date with Millie goes pretty well and is actually kind of funny. In the last episode most of his scenes were with Francis because Francis is awkward enough for five people and just about dampens down Freddie’s natural charisma. 

Now that I’m watching with a more critical eye, I’m kind of excited to see where the primrose path of Awkwardness and Inconvenience lead us, and what that tells us about the society that made and watched this show. 

[cherry6759]

A fleeting existence depend on cases

"It's so simple, I'm surprised none of you solved this before I arrived! It's like looking in the mirror and questioning who is on the other side!"

Sighing, the exasperated young woman held out her hand, that carried a pair of glasses, while she looked around. Everyone in that room was involved in the case, in some way, and there was only one true culprit. There was no way the door was opened from the inside, there was no way the culprit left the room after the door was unlocked by the police, there was no way they hid in a conventional place, the window couldn't be closed from the outside... There was only one answer.

The young detective started walking from one side of the room to the other, while looking absentmindedly to the ceiling. She seemed to be thinking deeply, in a way that only the inspector in that same room understood--this case had been so simple to her she even forgot that others couldn't easily see the evidence.

"When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth," The girl with inklike hair hummed, looking again towards the man who had requested her help. "Isn't that correct, inspector Takahashi? Arthur Conan Doyle had the key to this all the time."

"...I don't see how, Kiyomizu-san", The inspector said, with caution, trying to keep his words in the most polite tone possible. That was a dangerous detective he was handling. "Even if you quote Doyle, there's not a single improbable truth I can see."

"You are neglecting the facts once again, Inspector. Do you remember who said this?"

The reunited cast of that odd event, consisting in the family of the victim--a rich head from a wealthy family, who had only a daughter and a wife, and who had invited his three brothers and their families to his house--and the servants, watched as the two investigators shared a secret conversation, that even if heard by everyone, could not be understood.

The victim was the oldest between his siblings. He had only a daughter and a wife, who lived with him. His younger brothers had, in order of oldest to youngest, three sons, a son and a daughter, and finally, twin daughters. He had a butler, three maids and three servants. The cook, the gardener and the driver were also there, sitting cautiously away from the others. They knew that, no matter who would be the criminal, there would be a riot.

"No woman in this family was allowed to read or write, as a rule from the head, who said that women were supposed to just marry and make a possible head for the family", The lady detective stated, looking directly at the victim's daughter. "And yet, you could quote Doyle when we first met as an avid reader would. Can you explain this occurrence to me, Sakura-san?"

The young woman, with a beautiful face, became pale. She lowered her head, trying to hide herself from the prying eyes of the others, who looked either curiously or undoubtedly shocked to her. Sakura Shirakawa couldn't stand looking that detective in the eyes, with that devilish smile on her insensitive expression.

A woman who seemed to be on her forties spoke, after a long silence, while stepping ahead. She immediately caught the detective’s attention, as her face showed a clear sign of surprise. That lady detective, called Kiyomizu, wasn’t expecting an interruption, but didn’t complain about it as well. Rather, she seemed pleased with that specific woman trying to challenge her logic, that was being slowly disclosed to those who committed no crime.

“Are you, perhaps, trying to imply that my daughter disobeyed her father, and then murdered him? This is not only disrespectful, but also something impossible. I was with my daughter today during my husband’s death.”

“And who can confirm that?”, the detective smiled even more, as soon as she saw the victim’s wife’s face getting red with anger. “Come on, that’s just a simple question, Mrs. Shirakawa. Can't you tell me at least a single name of someone who can attest that you two were together during the murder, and that you two were away from the office when the murder occurred?"

No words came from the woman, nor her daughter. The detective, with her gleaming eyes colored in the same hue as coffee when the milk was poured into it, started walking around again, while she uncontrollably kept her hands in movement, as if there was too much energy to keep them still. No one dared to interrupt her, not even the inspector, that looked cautiously towards that strange figure, who seemed to belong so well to those circumstances, but completely odd in reality itself. The young woman smiled, as she spoke the last words of that night's "little show", as she would remember it later.

"You have your answer now, Inpector Takahashi-san!", she announced, in a joyful tone, while the said man looked towards the victim's wife with sorrowful, mourning eyes. "Such a meek, scared girl... When cornered by a man with her father's temper, driven to a corner after doing something so simple as learning how to read... She saw no choice but to take her father's prized possession, the gun in exposition on the wall, and shoot fearlessly as a way to prevent him from getting close, counting on the fear of being killed! What she wasn't expecting was that her mother had loaded the gun beforehand, knowing this moment would happen--she was the one that cornered her daughter to this situation, in order to 'free her from her heinous father'! Asking her maid to buy her time, without actually presenting her the truth, was a good, yet cheap trick--breaking the clock to make it seem like the maid's scream, coming from the outside, and the death were events related to one another, even after cleaning all the evidence, just to show up innocently with your agitated daughter and claim to see a human covered in blood outside! Making the impressionable twins believe that it was true, and then convincing the rest of the family! Trying to frame her maid for the crime, while trying to make herself look innocent!"

Everyone was taken aback by her excited, almost happy words, except for the tired professional investigator. This man stopped the angry mother who, in a fit of pure hatred, seemed to be about to run towards the detective and jump on her neck.

The detective laughed, as if even that didn't bother her at all.

"This is the truth of this day! Hanako-san committed an indirect crime, and erased all the evidence, while trying to convince everyone that her innocent maid had been the criminal in such an atrocious, villainous act; and she failed. No one can escape my grasp, and no crime goes unsolved when faced with my merciless deduction! What do you think, everyone!?"

While the defeated inspector handcuffed the dangerous woman who was "the culprit", the detective couldn't be stopped. She turned around, with that monstrous smirk adorning her beautiful features, as she opened her arms.

"The daughter committed a crime she certainly didn't want to! She is innocent, to me; the mother, who coldly planned everything, is the true culprit!"

The thunder that roared outside ended her words, as everyone wordlessly watched the scene unravel. No one could ever describe with words how that detective seemed so terrifyingly satisfied with the outcome, nor how melancholic that officer looked as the mother was arrested. The only picture they had in their minds, besides the corpse of the once head of that family, was that sinister detective's glowing eyes.

To Tsukiko Kiyomizu, that was nothing more than a game she solved. Another set of pieces she had put together, having fun with it.

The cold-hearted, monstrous lady detective that everyone saw there was so strikingly remarkable no one would ever believe she was the same quiet, seemingly bored student from Shujin Academy, who had such a weak smile on her face all the time.

To that young student, who also carried such a horrendous side on her heart, it was just another case she solved. Just like the other fracture of her heart, even if it meant the world for her, it was all it was in the end. Just another case.

With a somewhat inconsolable grin, the detective left the scene, knowing it would be, tomorrow, just another scene, even if minutes before it was her whole existence.

[marril96]

Green-Eyed Witch

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: Rowena is jealous of a hunter flirting with reader.

Editor: @oswinthestrange

A/N: This story is a gift for my lovely new friend, @hotdiggitydammit. I highly recommend you check out her blog, she makes amazing art! I would also love to thank the wonderful @oswinthestrange not just for lending me her amazing editing skills, but also for helping me out by giving me ideas for this story, and @ultimatefandomtrash61 helping with the title.

Read on AO3.

Rowena MacLeod wasn't a jealous person.

Envious, yes; throughout centuries of learning from better, more powerful witches, it was hard not to wish for power alike that of theirs. The power she'd eventually gained, hell, even surpassed. If they were to see her now, they were the ones who'd be envious of her.

Jealousy, though, was a rare emotion for her. She'd almost forgotten what it felt like, having not experienced it in centuries. Her mind flashed back to Fergus' father. The strong, handsome man who'd sworn to protect her, to love her for the rest of eternity. The man who'd promised her heaven, and had left her in hell of blood and near-death, with a screaming infant in her arms. He and his wife — the woman he'd promised to leave for her. Rowena scoffed at her stupidity. Rule number one of being with a cheater: they never leave their spouse, no matter what they say — had had it all; the money, the glory, the respect . Rowena, on the other hand, had had nothing.

She'd stopped feeling then, pushed her emotions down and built a wall around them to keep them hidden. Emotions were a weakness. Love was a weakness. Jealousy was an unnecessary byproduct of it, and it, too, had made her weak, made her vulnerable to the cruel, merciless world that wanted nothing but to take advantage of the scared, naive peasant girl she used to be.

Yet, watching you talking to a hunter — or rather him talking to you — stirred something up inside of her, an old, deeply buried emotion she hadn't felt in centuries. He was a newcomer, one of the refugees from the alternate world she'd kept the rift open for yesterday, almost to the point of passing out. She hadn't even noticed him the first time around, having been awake for two days and craving rest more than food and water. Today, she'd all but woken up to him chatting with you.

Rowena didn't know why it was bothering her. You'd talked to plenty of men and women in her presence, and she'd never felt anything akin to this. The man was tall and scrawny, with messy hair and a face that had surely once been pretty, but the horrors of war had made it rough, worn out. A scar stretched out from his temple to his upper lip, smooth and pinkish in color. Recent. He wasn't handsome, or even all that attractive, now that she thought about it. But…

There was something about the way he was looking at you that Rowena didn't like. She couldn't quite put her finger on it. His smile was wide, showing off dimples that might have been cute once upon a time, but now looked out of place on his hardened face. His eyes gleamed in delight as you laughed at something he'd said, and his lips curled into a bigger smile to match the one in his gaze. His teeth were yellow, Rowena noticed. Unkempt, like the rest of him. He must have brushed them this morning for the first time in days, maybe even weeks.

He leaned closer to whisper something in your ear. You frowned, then gave a soft laugh, bringing a hand to your mouth to muffle the sound. Rowena stiffened. Her teeth clenched. Her fingers balled into hard, heavy fists, turning the knuckles as white as bone. She narrowed her eyes at the man, her gaze sharp, dangerous. If looks could kill, he would have fallen to his death. He had no business standing that close to you. He had no business whispering to you and making you laugh. That was her job.

He was a nobody, a wee — well, figuratively — man who wouldn't know hygiene if it hit him in the face. A stranger. A hunter. Rowena's face twisted with disgust at the thought, an expression you'd always found adorable. You loved her scrunched up face as much as her pouty one. She couldn't understand the fascination with her expressions, but she found it endearing. Not many people giggled and showered her with compliments simply for making a facial expression. You loved her as she was, with all her flaws and strengths. You loved her laugh, and her freckles, and the way her hair framed her face in the morning, all big and messy. You loved her hands, loved the veins protruding over their tops like fine ink tattoos. You loved her toes, having proclaimed them cute countless times, and loved when she propped herself up on them to kiss you. You loved her, all of her.

That hunter would never have that. He would never know what it was like to be loved by you.

Though, he seemed very intent on getting a taste.

He said something else, and once again you laughed, a tad awkwardly. A growl rose up in the back of Rowena's throat, and she pressed her lips shut, trapping it. That was her laugh. She was the one supposed to elicit it, not some otherworldly hunter.

Did he even like witches? Was this some sort of a ploy to get you alone and kill you? Rowena wouldn't put it past him. Hunters weren't to be trusted. The two of you helping him and the others wasn't enough to erase decades of hatred for everything and anything non-human. Rowena wondered how many witches he'd killed. What if he was a hunter that specialized in killing witches? What if he were cruel and ruthless, like the locals who'd chased her out of her home, who'd made her abandon her son as she ran for her life?

She didn't trust him. And she especially didn't trust him to be that close to you.

He raised his hand and reached out for you. His fingers brushed down your forearm, a soft, gentle slide of skin against skin. You looked down and frowned, confused by the sudden contact. The man quickly pulled his hand back and muttered something which made your lips curl into a smile.

Rowena's blood ran hot, boiling up inside of her like lava in her veins. Who did he think he was, touching you like that? As if it wasn't enough that he was standing next to you, well in your personal space, and making you laugh. He had to touch you, as well?

Rowena was the only one allowed to touch you like that.

The man uttered something again, seemingly a question. You gave it a thought before responding, the smile never leaving your face. You were tense, nervous; you tried to hide it, tried to mask it with a smile, but Rowena could always tell. She knew your body enough by now to understand its language even from afar. You weren't comfortable talking to the hunter. You weren't afraid, having sensed no danger from him, but you weren't fond of being that close to him. He was a stranger, an unknown, and, to top is all off, a hunter. A perfect combination of things you preferred to stay away from, having been burned — both literally and metaphorically — countless times before. You were too polite to tell him to go away.

Lucky for you and extremely unfortunately for him, Rowena wasn't cursed with the same strain of politeness.

She got to her feet with a huff and strode over to you, back straightened, head up high. Lips tight in a line, eyes sharp, expression firm, she looked every bit a businesswoman, confident, serious, a tinge of threat added for good measure.

"Hey," you greeted, smile widening at the sight of her. Your breaths turned lighter, easier. You were relieved to see her, Rowena realized. Relieved not to be this close to this stranger on your own anymore. Your body relaxed, tension unwinding like a ball of yarn being unwrapped.

Rowena returned the smile. She lowered her head on your shoulder and brought a hand to your shoulder blade, gently wrapping her fingers around it, and put her other one around your waist. She pressed herself against you like a cat demanding attention. It wasn't like her to be this clingy around other people; toughness and independence were reputations she'd worked centuries to acquire. This, though, was worth throwing her pride to the wind. You were hers, only hers. Hers to talk to, hers to touch, hers to make laugh.

The hunter frowned, confusion lining his face. Rowena couldn't look at you, but she was willing to bet your expression matched his.

"You're Rowena, right?" he asked, despite already knowing the answer. Small talk. Courtesy.

Rowena wanted to vomit. "Aye, that's me," she said. She gave him the fakest of fake smiles, deliberately obvious. Her tone matched it.

"I'm Eli." He extended his hand. She didn't shake it. He pulled it back and swallowed, nervous. Good, Rowena thought. He had reason to be nervous. Good lad. "Sam and Dean said you kept the rift open for us. Thank you." It was genuine.

"Och, it was just business," Rowena said with feigned modesty. The compliment appealed to her, even if its owner didn't. She wasn't one to turn down praise. She looked into his eyes. "Do you like witches, Eli?" She said his name in a thick accent.

Confusion spilled over his face like paint. He wasn't sure how to respond to that. He wasn't used to surprises, the poor lad. Rowena wondered how he'd managed to survive so long in a world as wild and unpredictable as his. "Um…"

"It's okay if you don't. I imagine most people here hold a similar opinion," she said, nonchalance as fake as her smile. Hell, even Sam and Dean, the closest thing she had to friends, weren't too fond of her kind. People from a supernatural-war-torn world were bound to hold some prejudices.

It was alright. Rowena wasn't fond of humans, either.

"I-I think you guys are cool," Eli said, struggling to find the right words.

"Do you, now?" She narrowed her eyes at him in mock suspicion, and made it look real. "You know, Eli, there's more to us as a species. We don't exist just to be 'cool.'"

He swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat. "I didn't mean any disrespect…"

"Och, I know, dear boy, I know." She emphasized it with an exaggerated nod. "Still, it's a point to keep in mind, aye?"

"Of course!"

Of course. Not so flirty now, was he?

"We're all very grateful for what you did for us," he added.

They had bloody well better be! Rowena had stayed up for over two days. A few times she'd almost passed out, drained and tired. Keeping the rift open had taken a lot out of her; a lot more than she'd expected it would. Was it worth it? Yes. She would argue that it was. She'd made good on her word. She'd helped people. She'd made progress on her goal of redemption. But damn, would she have regretted it all had one — just one — of the people she'd exhausted herself for so much as looked at her the wrong way. Or tried to steal her girlfriend.

Eli was walking on a thin line.

"What were you two talking about?" Rowena asked. It was time she got to the point.

Eli's cheeks flushed as if he'd been caught doing something illegal. Which he kind of was, depending on your definition of illegal. "Stuff," he said in a small voice.

Rowena frowned, suspicion growing. "What kind of stuff?"

He shrugged. "Just stuff."

"Like?"

"The weather."

"The weather?" Seriously? That was his pickup line? Amateur! Rowena barely held back a look of disgust. This man, this hunter, was flirting — or rather attempting to flirt — with you right in front of her, and he had the audacity to do it poorly.

He had the decency to look embarrassed. "Why-why do you wanna know?" She shot him a look, and, startled, he quickly added, "No offense."

She intimidated him. Good. Very good. "It seemed like an interesting conversation," she said snidely, not even trying to hide the hostility. "I thought I might join in. I'm always interested in what my girlfriend has to say."

Eli paled as soon as the words left her mouth, face as white as a sheet. "Girlfriend?"

"You didn't know?" Rowena asked with fake compassion, too expressive, exaggerated, like an actress in an overly dramatic soap opera. "We've been together for two years now."

His eyes widened. A bead of sweat popped up on his forehead and slid down his face. Something in Rowena burst in joy at his expression, so frightened, so lost, a petty, sadistic streak she thought she'd lost. She was glad she hadn't. Just because she wasn't black anymore didn't mean she had to be white. Gray was a rather pretty color. Not her favorite, but it suited her quite well.

"That's great," Eli said, after taking a breath to compose his thoughts.

"We make a great pair, don't you think?" she asked, then pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder and huddled closer into you. Eli nodded. "Y/N has always been kind to me. Because of that, I've grown a bit protective of her. If someone were to threaten our relationship, I would do anything to defend it. Anything." The last word came out in a purr; a threat, a warning. "You can understand that, right?"

"Yes," Eli said instantly, emphasizing it with rapid nods.

Good boy.

Rowena was about to say so, eagerly so, when you spoke for the first time since she'd crashed the, ahem, conversation, cutting her off before she even got a chance to open her mouth. "Rowena, can we talk for a minute?"

"Why, of course, my dear!" She lifted her head off your shoulder and shot you a delighted smile, with a dash of innocence sprinkled into it. Not obvious at all. Nope. "Anything for you."

"Bedroom," you said, giving her the same sickeningly sweet smile of lies.

Rowena turned to Eli. "I'm terribly sorry to have to cut this short. It was a pleasure to meet you, Eli."

"Likewise," he said, and didn't mean it. "See you around, I guess, Y/N, Rowena." He nodded at each of you.

"It's Miss MacLeod for you."

"Miss MacLeod," he quickly corrected himself.

You grabbed Rowena's wrist and pulled her after you before she could laugh in his face. Not that she would have; she would have simply sneered. But she was tempted to. She barely held back a fit of laughter as you shoved into the room and closed the door after her. Unlike her, you didn't seem to be in a laughing mood.

"What the hell are you doing?" you demanded.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She didn't really believe it would work. It never did. You always knew when she was pretending. She could fool anyone — hell, she'd even fooled the Devil himself more than once — but she could never fool you.

Once upon a time, Rowena would have been terrified that someone knew her that well. Now, she was glad. You listened when she talked. You paid attention to her behavior, to the very details of language her tiny body displayed. You cared. No one had ever cared before; not to this extent.

"Rowena," you said, tone a tad lower, a warning.

"What?" she said defensively.

"You know that's not gonna work on me."

She did know. It was still worth a try. She pouted like a child who'd just been told off by their parent after being caught doing something naughty.

You rolled your eyes. No melting at the cuteness? Rowena was disappointed. Usually, pouting did you in, made you give up the argument the moment her lips would give the slightest sign of puckering up. Had she overused it? Had you developed immunity to her charms of adorableness? Heart sinking, she hoped not. She enjoyed you gushing over her like an overexcited fangirl.

"What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing," Rowena said. What's gotten into an otherworlder, a hunter at that, to flirt with you right in front of her? That would have made a far better question.

You sighed, then took a deep, calming breath. "Look, I don't like hunters any more than you do, but we can't antagonize them. We're surrounded by them." You raised up your hands and made a wide gesture to emphasize your point. "What'd we do if they retaliate? There's over twenty of them and two of us. I doubt Sam and Dean'd be on our side if they found out we've been rude to their hunter buddies."

Rowena's jaw dropped. She stared at you, disbelieving, outraged. "That numbnut should have thought of that before he tried to get into your pants!"

Your brows furrowed, features twisting into a look of sheer confusion. You were looking at her as if she'd suddenly grown a second head, or her hair had inexplicably turned purple. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about Eli flirting with you!"

"What?" You started to laugh, finding the claim ridiculous, and then decided against it and pressed your lips into a line. "No, he wasn't."

You meant it. Rowena could tell you did.

"Oh, he was," she said.

"No." You shook her head. "He wasn't. He was just…" Your eyes widened as realization began to sink it. "Was he?"

Rowena resisted the urge to slam her palm into her forehead. How could someone be so completely and utterly clueless? The man could have screamed in your face that he wanted to fuck you, and you still wouldn't get the hint.

"He was," she said. "He was bloody terrible at it, but he was flirting." You suddenly looked embarrassed. She smirked; she couldn't help being amused at your ignorance. "What'd you think he was doing?"

The man looked like he wanted to jump you right then and there. Her face twisted with disgust, then anger, at the thought. How dare he think of doing that with you? How dare he think he even had a chance?

"I just thought he was one of those annoying people who like to talk to strangers," you said with a shrug.

Bless your precious heart. Sometimes, Rowena longed for the days of innocence much alike that of yours. Days when she'd looked forward to the future, when she'd believed in dreams and the good in people. Days when she was just a girl, pale and scared. When every new day was an adventure, and every new person she'd met was an ally rather than an enemy. Days before the cruelty of the world had corrupted her, turned her bright, hopeful heart black.

"Good god, lass!"

You blushed. "He wasn't that obvious," you said in an attempt to defend yourself.

"He was practically drooling," Rowena said. The memory filled her with resentment. Her fists clenched, nails digging into the skin of her palms. Her old self would have killed him for daring to look at you, an example to others with thoughts similar to his — don't mess with her property. Damn her newfound conscience, and damn her redemption! Being good — well, sort of — sucked.

"You're exaggerating."

"A few minutes more, and he would've shot up like a geyser!"

"Could've done without the visual, thanks," you said, grossed out. Your eyes narrowed, curious. Suspicious. "Why're you so worked up over this? You know I'd never cheat."

"Because…" Why, indeed? Rowena wasn't sure. All she knew with utmost certainty was that that man had no business acting the way that he had towards her girlfriend. Hers. Never his, or anyone else's. Hers.

"Are you jealous?" A smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you said it, teasing, playful, like a cat who'd caught a mouse and was tossing it around, sadistically enjoying its attempts to escape.

"No!" Rowena fired as soon as the question left your mouth and turned her head away, avoiding your eyes. She, jealous? Ridiculous! The great and powerful Rowena MacLeod would never succumb to such lowly emotions as jealousy.

"You are! You're jealous!" you all but beamed, as if you'd been looking forward to this conclusion.

"I'm not jealous!" Rowena denied. Simply because she wasn't fond of a strange man whispering to you, making you laugh, and touching your arm didn't mean she was jealous. Precautious — that was what she was. Yes. She was precautious. You knew nothing about those people, about their way of life. Each and every one of them had potential to be dangerous. They were in need of help, yes, but that didn't make them innocent. What if there was a serial killer amongst them? Or a child molester? A rapist? A hunter with a taste for witch blood? What kind of a girlfriend would she be if she disregarded those possibilities? You were still but a newbie witch, naive, precious. You hadn't experienced the world's cruelty the way that she had.

"You totally are!" You were giggling now, like a schoolgirl whose friend had confided in her about her latest crush.

Blood rushed to Rowena's rosy cheeks, turning them red as ripe, blooming poppies. "Am not," she insisted stubbornly.

A shadow of a doubt crept into her mind. Was she jealous? No, she told herself. She wasn't. She couldn't be. She wanted your laughs to herself. She wanted her hand to brush against your arm, not Eli's. So what? She was your girlfriend. It was only natural she wanted you, all of you, all to herself.

Right?

You shook your head, not believing her for a second. At this point, Rowena wasn't sure she, herself, believed her own words.

"Oh, my god!" Your giggles morphed into full-blown laughter. You doubled over, hands instinctively pressing to your stomach as you laughed and laughed and laughed, seemingly forever. "You're adorable!"

Oh, now she was adorable. "I am not adorable, and this is not funny," Rowena said with a scoff. Rude.

"I think it's hilarious!"

"Stop it!" She pouted again. Her lower lip quivered as if she were about to cry. She wasn't jealous! Honestly. She wasn't.

Alright, maybe she was. A teeny, tiny bit. She wasn't that obvious, like Eli and his bloody awful flirting. She had the decency to be subtle.

You straightened up and walked over to her, lowering your hands onto her shoulders. Your eyes locked with hers, the look in them bright, cheerful, teasing. Underneath it all Rowena could see love, devotion like no other. "My little cutie pie," you cooed. Your finger tapped the tip of her nose, then slid down over her puckered up, shaky lip. "You have no reason to be jealous."

"I'm not—" Rowena tried, but stopped herself before finishing it. The cat was out of the bag. There was no use denying it anymore. She sighed, took a breath to compose herself, and straightened up, proud, dignified, like a queen standing before her people, about to give a long, inspirational speech following a hard-fought victory. "You're mine, Y/N."

"And I always will be."

She knew you would. But having spent centuries betrayed and broken, treated more like a toy than a person, Rowena had learned to fight for what she had, for what was hers. For if she didn't, it would be taken from her. It always was. Even the thought of someone ripping you from her made her heart beat faster in fear. She couldn't bear it, couldn't bear the possibility of you not being there when she woke up, not holding her hand, not calling her name when you needed her.

"I know. I just…" I'm scared, she thought. Frozen in fear. Terrified beyond belief. You were the one good thing in her life, the one thing she hadn't managed to screw up. She couldn't lose you.

"I know sweetheart," you said, as if you'd read her thoughts. Your voice was gentle, sweet, soothing, radiating love she never thought she'd get again. She didn't deserve it, yet here you were, loving her more than anything in the world. Lucky old witch, she was. You brought your hands to her cheeks, cupping them into your palms. "I'm not gonna leave you. It's never gonna happen. You're stuck with me."

"Lucky me," Rowena said sarcastically, flashing a small smile. You had no idea how lucky she was to have you, to have the privilege to call you hers. To love you and be loved in return.

Lucky her, indeed.

You gave a light chuckle. "Besides, Eli's not even my type."

"Pray tell, what is your type?"

You pretended to think it through for a moment. "Short, pale, green-eyed gingers with anger issues."

Rowena quirked up an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

"Uh-hum," you said with a nod. "Scottish. A bit annoying. Mean, sometimes. With impeccable fashion sense and strange love for glittery makeup. Jealous, though they claim not to be."

"Sounds like someone I know," she said.

"It totally does," you agreed. You pressed your lips to hers for a kiss, sweet and soft, a gentle brush of skin over skin. "I love you, you adorable, silly creature."

"I love you, too, you clueless girl."

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @darktweet @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @royalrowena @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @victoriasagittariablack @rowenaswife @dropsofpetrichor @fromflametofire @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @elaspn @cas-loves-dean-and-i-love-him @faeyla @hotdiggitydammit @thaiinette

[quality-street-rat]

PLEASE READ

To my fellow citizens of this world:

Today there has been another shooting in America. I am shocked and disgusted, and, to put a finer point on it, angry. Why must there be so much carnage and suffering?! Have we as a people really sunk that low?! There are shootings every week! There are specific days to hurt people out of hate!

And I ask myself, why? Why does this have to happen? And the answer is, because of hate and fear. The world is broken, and it is up to those of us who live here to fix it. The future is only what we build it into, and right now, we are building an apocalypse. We are building a YA dystopian novel.

There are people rich enough to buy half the planet, while children starve and people are sold into slavery. There are people who focus on nothing but their own personal future. There are still women who only live to serve men. There are still girls who are married against their will at ages as young as twelve. There are still hate crimes. There are still mass shootings. There is still disrespect and abuse of people based off of nothing more than religion, skin color, gender, sexuality, mental illness, the list goes on and on!

And so I ask you this: Do you want it to stop? Do you want our race to feel safe? Because that is what we are, human beings are one race, one kind of being. Nothing else matters. Human beings need to be treated as such.

I ask you this: Have you ever been denied of health, of safety, of love, of clothes, of food, of supplies, of a job, because of who you are? Have you ever seen that happen? If you have not, then imagine yourself in that position. Would you want it to stop? Of course you would!

I do not know what will fix our world. I do not know what will fix America. I was taught to defy tyranny, and that is what I will do. Tyrants will not be tolerated. Tyranny is hurting people for their beliefs. Tyranny is oppressing the poor because they are poor. Tyranny is misogyny. Tyranny is believing yourself to be the only correct person in the world. Tyranny is the king that sits on our throne. America is meant to be the land of the free. I ask you, do you feel free?!

I still do not know how to fix our world. But I do know how to fix parts of it. Just a tiny bit at a time. I started with myself. It begins with accepting yourself for who you are. Then, you start accepting that other people are going to be the way they are. Next, treat everyone with love. Kindness is the most important thing in existence. The smallest act of kindness can change somebody’s life. If you do not understand a person, accept them nonetheless. Educate, do not harm. The first part of changing the world is this: DO NO HARM.

At the same time, doing no harm means not accepting harm done to others. If harm is being done to someone else, whether mental, physical, emotional, spiritual, then you put a stop to it. If you see people perpetuating harm to others, than you stand up and you say no. There is a question that has been asked by people for centuries. How do you know something is alive? You know that something is alive when it can say NO. How will the tyrants and the misguided really know what we need unless we speak up? Say no to hatred, say no to harm, say no those who think it is right to punish people for existing! Do not allow harm to come to anyone!

I have learned my part, and I am still learning, and I want everyone who reads this to think for a minute. I have always been so very unhappy with the state of the world. I have always been unhappy with the pain that I see people going through. Have you ever been unhappy seeing the pain of others? Then do something!

Excuse my language, but I have finally understood that the way that the world should run is this: Do no harm, but take no shit. Do not hurt anyone, but do not just sit and take disrespect and harm from anyone either. Tell them no! Remember that you are alive! Remember that you matter! Remember that everyone deserves to feel safe and loved! EVERYONE!

And so, I ask you this: share this message. Share it with everyone you know. Share it with everyone you don’t know. Post it on your social media. Send it to everyone on your contact list. Print it out and stick it places. Email. Discord. Facebook. Even paper mail! Just stay safe while doing it.

I learned the hard way that I, personally, can never back away from this fight. I am not capable of standing aside and watching so much suffering. I have promised to myself that I will change this world. I have promised to myself that even if I cannot save everyone, even if I cannot save myself, then I will do what I can. And I can do a lot. If you feel the same way, if you will not stop fighting for equality, if you will never stop fighting against tyranny, if you will always fight against hatred, then say it with me: I WILL NOT STAND DOWN. I will never stand down, I will never back away, I will not back away, I will never stop fighting!!!

If I cannot convince you, then thank you anyway. If you are not ready yet to fight, physically, emotionally, mentally, then thank you. I will see you on the front lines when you are ready. To everyone who will not or cannot join this fight for love and equality and safety, then I respect your choice, and I love you.

So please begin. Live your life by love, and not by hate. I await you.

Sincerely,

Adrien Lightwood, 17

[twisterss]

aight heres all my thots on infinity war. it’s under a readmore.

good:

-thor is a bad bitch. i know i said this already maybe 10x but... he’s a bad bitch and imo the russos didnt really ruin his character at all (minus putting him in that bigass cape again). he’s one of the only characters to show emotion and he is THE strongest avenger... like he really coulda killed thanos. i love him so much tho so so so much. 

-okoye gives the most hilarious disgusted sideye to bruce banner after he trips in his hulk buster suit lmfao and when wanda finally joins the fights shes like.. “where was she this whole time” (something like that). okoyes just great. 

-tony stark gets the crap kicked out of him. like...if this bitch wasnt killed at least he suffered am i right or am i right ladies?!

-captain america gets punched in the face lmfaooo. like... i dont even dislike captain america but... it was still funny. 

-i lowkey came out of this movie a wanda stan lol. like... they finally stopped trying to depower her!!! shes so strong finally and she makes everyone but thor look like amateurs. i dont even care when this happened im just glad she stopped being whiny and useless. 

-it was better than the last jedi. i know i know!! this isnt a high bar BUT forreal when ppl started comparing the movies i was apprehensive but.... it’s not a good film but it’s still 4000000x better than tlj lmfao. the writing/fighting/colors/treatment of characters of color was way better. like ya the white characters still got the most respect but it was the obvious hatred for characters of color u see in tlj! so thats a positive!

the bad:

-it’s really choppy??? like...all the fights happening in 20 different places was just too much. 

-character development is nonexistent. like... none of these characters have any sort of full arc other than thor (and gamora had a semi-arc)... everyone else seems real...underutilized... yes... even iron man.

-speaking of iron man...thanos knows who iron man/tony stark is... and he tells him that he hopes humanity remembers tony stark. which doesnt make fucking sense since this dude is literally a nobody lmfao!! a random arms dealer from earth is supposed to be someone thanos has heard of and believes humanity should mourn/look up to in any sort of way?? how??? why??? russo/marvel stop sucking tony’s dick for one second challenge!

-the asgardian genocide....except thor says distinctly either “he killed half my people” or “he killed most my people”...so valkyrie must be alive and some of his people must be alive. like... i guess this goes in line with thanos killing half a population per civilization (even if the asgardians were hella small as is). like... it looks like theyre all dead but thor said all that specifically so...im holding out hope. it still was disrespectful to taika and trash writing but...im holding out hope. 

-anything negative happening to wakanda/wakandans. i just wish these ugly fuckos stayed out of the place entirely cause my heart skipped a beat when they showed up in wakanda but thankfully all the fighting happened away from the countries center. 

the worse:

-thanos watches a sunrise (or sunset?) in like a callback to when killmonger watched a sunrise before his death... like maybe that wasn’t on purpose but it looked like it was in wakanda as well i dont even know but it was ugly and boring and tacky in every way. stop trying to make thanos as a better villan than killmonger happen!!! it’s never gonna be a thing!!

-gamoras death was fuckin horrendous. she died just to further this dumb thanos dudes agenda. the trope of letting women die for male pain is so exhausting. and trying to lie to us and say that what thanos felt for gamora was love when all he did was torture, abuse, and control her is crazy!!! like that’s not love u fucking demons!!! fuck the russos.

-the black order...sucked. they were all depowered/weak as hell. cgi was trash and like i said they were just weaklings across the board! just some boring henchmen in all honesty. 

-sam died in a fuckin ditch alone...rhodey was nearby but he didn’t see him. all the deaths had no emotional impact...

-THE WAKANDA ADVERTISEMENTS ARE FALSE. THE WAKANDANS AREN’T THAT IMPORTANT AT ALL. NO ONE FROM THE BP CREW REALLY IS AT ALL IN THIS STORY. FUCK MARVEL FOR ACTING LIKE THEY WERE GONNA BE.

-everyones said this before but...nothing matters... there are no stakes. everyone can return from the dead. the only ppl who i think are probably dead fr fr are loki (thank God) and heimdall (im so mad about that). even gamora can probs come back since her soul seemed to be connected in someway to the soul stone...and they wanna make more guardian movies and shes important so ya know she’ll probs be back (she fucking better be tbh). the “nothing matters” thing makes the movies whole ending completely boring and unemotional lol. like... i did not care when t’challa and falcon disappeared lmfao like i love them but i still didnt feel shit cause i was like...ill see yall later then lol. 

overall:

-it has a lot more problems than what i mentioned but... it’s just a fun popcorn flick if ur not really invested in most of these character like me... i only gave a fuck about the thor crew and every black character lol...otherwise...kill vision, kill bruce, w/e i dont care lol. and it’s especially easy to enjoy this b/c theres no stakes. none of it matters. falcon will be back. t’challa will be back. gamora better be back. we’re gonna pray for heimdall. etc etc. 

[nbandproud]

Gender / Orientation is not a diagnosis.

“I feel like X and Y and Z. What am I?”

“I identify as A, but my friend says I’m more like B. Who’s right?”

“I express C through D. Is this E?”

The answer will always, always be that you should decide that by yourself.

We get questions at @ask-pride-color-schemes - and not only that, I see many similar questions directed at other blogs - that act like there are people that are the Grand Arbitrers of Identity, that we will be able to figure out Your True Identity and then you’ll be happy with it forever, but it doesn’t work like that.

What we have is experience and resources that may help you when we explain what certain labels mean, or when we try to interpret what you mean and narrow down your search to a few named identities, if what you describe is accurate and if there are accurate words to describe what you are describing.

But we can’t know what your experiences with certain words are, or if you are omitting something important because of shame/internalized hatred, or if your vocabulary is kind of off and then we think neutrality when you meant between male and female, or we think woman-aligned when you meant feminine.

And we understand that we can’t know for sure what you feel! Or that you may not know how to express how you feel! Or that what you feel may change! And it’s ok if you word questions like absolutes because you didn’t think about what it was implying and not because you expect an “expert answer” that puts all your doubts to rest. But please don’t expect us to know everything that you know/experience.

[If you can’t see it because you are on mobile, there’s a cut here.]

Some examples:

“I was AFAB and I have a big chest and it bothers me. I don’t care about my genitalia though. What gender am I?”

We don’t know. Maybe you are a cis girl who is bothered because your chest gets in the way of everything. Maybe you wanted to try male section clothing but they all fit weirdly, but that doesn’t have anything to do with gender.

But sure, we assume that since you went to a gender blog, and are asking about gender, you are dysphoric. We are going to suggest masculine genders, and male-related genders, and neutral genders. Even though all of those could be wrong! You can be a maverique or a demigirl or a genderfluid person.

“I’m attracted to neutral/masculine NB people and men, and I wanted to identify as bi to be respectful but every bi group out there puts an emphasis about how bi people are attracted to both men and women and/or about how they don’t care about gender. Should I really identify as bi?”

That’s up to you! We don’t know about how much the bi groups have affected the understanding of your identity. We don’t know if you’d feel safe with labels that basically have no community such as nowoma and nofin. We don’t necessarily know if ply groups would do the same.

We don’t know whether it would be ideal to you to identify as het or gay (perhaps even homoflexible/heteroflexible), depending on your gender and on how often you actually have to interact with nonbinary people, because even if yes it would be disrespectful, real life is more nuanced than “you have to id as exactly how your orientation works or you are a terrible person”.

We don’t know if you would feel good about identifying as queer or pomo, or if just sticking with bi and raising awareness of how bi is not basically pan or attraction to binary genders would be a better option.

“My presentation is read as feminine but I identify as neutrois. There are people saying I should just identify as a woman or transfeminine then, but I feel like I already dress up neutrally enough. What should I do?”

We are probably going to say that presentation is not the same thing as identity, and that presentation is up to interpretation anyways, so you can be neutrois regardless of your presentation and you may see yourself as neutral regardless of how other people interpret your looks.

But it’s not impossible that you just don’t feel girly enough because of your appearance, while you actually have a womanly or feminine gender. Or that you want a neutral presentation but you are actually colorgender or polygender or something else.

We are always going to interpret what you are saying as the truth and not try to look into whether you are wrong about yourself, because that would be disrespectful. But it’s also not our fault for trusting and respecting you instead of dismissing your feelings as internalized hatred, as inaccurate, as irresponsible.

If your feelings change, please don’t hesitate in asking us for new possibilities. We won’t force you to give up any identity you like, or force you to take one you dislike. But please don’t put the blame on “MOGAI blogs” for not giving you a fixed answer or for giving you answers you don’t like or eventually grow to dislike.

[frommountainstolonestars]

Let me put my journalistic and constitutional law skills to the test and explain a few things. Now what I'm about to write may offend friends and family members. If it does, you are always free to unfollow me. There's a lot of outrage in regards to NFL players kneeling during the national anthem. A lot of conflicting arguments are being thrown around. Most of them are people saying that the players kneeling are disrespecting flag, country, and those who serve/d. To put this bluntly and politely: they're wrong. Colin Kaepernick, the man and player who started this movement, kneeled for the anthem in 2016 to protest police brutality and racism in our country. In 2016, he said, "I am not going to stand up to show pride in flag for a country that oppresses black people and people of color." Kap is a black man and given all that happened in 2016-- Philando Castile, Alton Sterling and others in previous years like Mike Brown, Trayvon Martin, Sandra Bland... really the list is too long; it's really no wonder he took a stand... or a kneel in this case. According to the Washington Post, there are 958 police shootings in 2016 alone. And for some reason, people were furious that Kaepernick chose to kneel for the anthem. Which was peaceful protest. Since there's this attitude about certain protests that people call riots, allow me to politely introduce you to the first amendment which states, "Congress shall make no law… Abridging the right of the people peaceably to assemble and petition the government for redress of grievances." Now to me, kneeling for song before football game is a pretty peaceful protest as a post to say Charlottesville. You know where the Nazi flag-- a symbol of hatred racism and anti-Semitism and anti-Roma-- was prominently flown and displayed. In fact, we have a flag code that outlines what we canning cannot do with the flag. For example, "The flag should never be used as wearing apparel bedding or drapery." Look around, we're always wearing the flag on our shirts bathing suit's socks. Does that offend you? The code also states, "The flag should never be used for any advertising purposes." I've seen beer companies and car companies, really any American company use the flag in an ad. Does that offend you? It also says, "it should not be embroidered printed or otherwise impressed on such articles as handkerchiefs napkins…" any Fourth of July party has flag napkins. Does that offend you? "The flag should not be used as part of a costume or athletic uniform..." Halloween, football games. Does that offend you? If the answer is no, then the kneeling shouldn't. But the disrespect to our military! You argue… To which I rebuttal: According to Texas monthly, Nate Boyer helped Kaepernick move from sitting for the anthem to kneeling. Boyer is an army veteran and he wrote a op-ed seeing if you saw someone sitting, he'd be upset. Kaepernick moved to kneeling which in many religions around the world is seen as respectful. Additionally, other veterans such as Benjamin Starks said, "he's exercising his constitutional right." Michael sands , a Green Beret, said "it is precisely for men like Kaepernick and his right to peacefully protest injustice, that we were willing to serve." Granted not a vets agree and that's OK. They're exercising their First Amendment right to freedom of speech. But let's not forget what the kneeling started as: a protest against systematic racism and police brutality. Nothing Kaepernick or other NFL players are doing is wrong or illegal under the constitution. And you can hate it all you want, but at least are you from the actual standpoint. They don't hate the military – that's not what this started as. Also while we're on this: there's a lot of ways you can protest. For example, there's a not so well known Supreme Court case called tinker v Des Moines that allows you to symbolically protest. Now, kneeling is an action not pure speech but the case probably helped establish what's going on here.

In fact, the Supreme Court said you could burn a flag in protest (Texas v Johnson) so kneeling seems like a step up from that. From the moment this country started, we've been a country of protest. If you see the Boston tea party as patriotic but not kneeling, you should go back and look at history. If we could protest and petition, we would be a sad country. Without protests, we might still have slaves, Women might not have the right to vote, you know civil rights might not be a thing. So this protest – a peaceful one – shouldn't bother you as much as it seems to be bothering you. And let me add a few more things. Do you stand for the anthem in your home? I don't. Do you salute the flag every time you see it? I don't. I imagine you don't either. So why does the protesting of police brutality via kneeling bother you so much? Additionally, in regards to troops: did you no roughly 150,000 that's our affected by PTSD? How about the fact that 22 vets kill themselves every day? So you want to help the military, there are better ways to do it then getting pissy about the anthem. Volunteer at the VA, donate money to anything but wounded warrior, advocate for better benefits, help support programs like the VA and the VFW to help integrate vets back into society. If I was a pro player, I'd #TakeAKnee because I don't have to deal with police brutality or systematic racism. And because I don't, our use my white privilege to stand by those who do and to speak out against injustices they face. If you don't like this, use your first amendment right to say so, but know that everything Kaepernick has ignited is constitutionally protected and not against the military. This began as a protest against police brutality. Do I sound like a broken record? I don't want anyone to forget what Kaepernick originally took his knee. Any questions?

[razieraz-blog1]

“You Can’t have a Rez without a Raz..” ~Story of Friendship

Hewwo! Before I continue let me say, Sowwie again for the huge space between stories, I sorta took a break from writing, I am back on it cause I feel sorry that you guys haven’t gotten much from me, Sowwie.

Anyways, this story is like an Alternate thing of Me and one of my best Friendos, @littlerez , I created this because I haven’t gotten to hear or communicate to Rez much and I just wanted to show how much I cared so I made this story up, hopefully you all enjoy! ((Love You Momma Rez <3))

________________________________________________________________

      The Sound of feet running and stomping among the concrete that was below them, echoed through the alley ways. Two pairs of those feet ran as quickly as they could, pushing anything in their path out of the way or behind them as angered figures had ran and stomped behind them. The figures who ran ahead of the angered crowd behind them, ran through darken and messy rundown alley ways, swiftly dashing further ahead of the group that had followed with anger behind. As the two figures had dashed ahead, moving past random obstacles in their way, the two looked to each other’s hidden faces before nodded to each other. The Two Figures darted a bit further, gaining speed off each other, the two knew the alley ways better than most, specially the group behind. The Two Figures, who were still gaining speed off each other, dashed a bit further before looking to each other once more before dashing into two different directions in the maze like alley ways, the so called Maze was filled with Pathways, more parts of the allies, Secret Passages, and more obstacles. The Angered group stood for a moment, lost on who to follow, they stood before just randomly darting after one of the two, splitting up very unevenly. As the two Figures ran, dragging how ever many of angered people behind them, they used their own tactics to try and lose them from behind, each acting differently. Each managed to lose some of the angered group behind them with their own strategies, people slowly dropping like flies behind them in a fail to follow.  The shorter of the two figures, wasn’t at all the fastest of the two. The figure was of a female, short, and a tad chubby. She worn a black and white striped bandanna over her mouth and nose, covering her identity besides her shiny blue eyes, which had black glasses over. She had also worn a black and gray hoodie, the hood part covering over her hair, making her hair unnoticeable. She had baggy gray boy shorts, her hoodie covering some of it, she also had black and white shoes. For not being the fastest, she still carried a heavy load of stuff in a black, gray, and white backpack on her back, making her a tad slower than normal. She had to rely on her creative mindset and her great stamina. The taller of the two figures, was the fastest and the oldest, oldest by only a couple of years. This figure was also female, skinny, and faster than the shorter of the two. This one did rely on both her great speeds and her smartness to carry herself on, away from the angered figures behind her. She worn a dark blue hoodie and a dark colored bandanna around her mouth and nose, her hoodie was down, exposing her light, soft and short brown colored hair. She worn black sweatpants and gray,white, dark blue shoes. She was far ahead from the group behind her, most giving up on chasing her, leaving three people to still follow her, soon the three would give up soon as well. The Shorter of the two was having the most difficult moment, the group still close behind her, she was desperate to throw anything backwards to keep them from catching her. She ran as fast as her short legs could, hoping to god’s name that she’d make it, no matter what she was, she hoped to god’s name. As she ran, she felt a hand being placed on top of her backpack, she felt herself beginning to panic before she had felt the owner of the hand slip up and fall, not pulling her down, luckily. She breathed in a sigh of relief as she managed to gain a big boost of speed from that moment, making her go a bit further ahead. After a good ten to fifteen minutes of running, the shorter of the two finally was losing her stamina while the taller of the two had lost all those who had followed behind her closely. The Smaller of the two had felt hand being placed onto her backpack, tugging her backwards onto the ground. She kicked and hit anything that had reached for her, she closed her eyes and she put as much as she could into defending herself. One of the angered figures managed to put her hands down, another started to punch her while another, had started to kick her. She felt powerless, inferior to them, she felt weak and if she had failed her taller companion. She screamed, trying to put as much force as she could into her scream and her struggled to break free, sadly, only her scream was successful before a dirty and nasty smelling hand was placed over her screaming mouth. She sat in pain, feeling the hits and kicks slowly manage to truly get to her, she felt weaker than ever and slowly she felt like she was fading away, blacking out as you would say. She closed her eyes, giving up on her struggles, believing she had failed everything. As her eyes closed, she felt the hands over her mouth be ripped from her, same with the hands that held her down. Her eyes shot right back open, her vision being blurry from the sudden opening of her eyes. She tried scanning the area, but that was when she realized, the glasses had were once on her face, were no longer on her, she searched and searched for them. She managed to find shattered glass before finding her shattered glasses, she  growled before looking back to whatever was happening. She seen blurry figures fighting, one figure being similar to that of her companion. She darted up as quickly as her weakening body could and started to try helping her companion, before being pushed away by said companion, falling to the ground in the process. Angered, she dropped her stuff and rammed head first into the back of one of the men. The Man screamed in pain, blood seeming to slowly soaking onto the back of the guy’s shirt. The others of the angered group looked to the small one, pissed off they started to target her, rather than her taller companion. She smirked under her bandanna and darted off, making the rest of the angered group follow behind her, catching up to her weakened body quickly. She ran like a swift yet injured rat running from a scene, which she was indeed running from a scene. She knew the alley ways like the back of her hand, so she made a plan. She would dart to a dead end, putting up the act of being scared before fighting back, letting her friend who would hopefully be far away to run. She smiled to the plan and darted off, turning corners quickly. For being the slowest out of the two, she manages at moments to find her speed, She was thankful it was this moment she had gained her speed. Sadly, her speed didn’t last long before being grabbed and turned around to face those who were behind her. The Men and women growled in anger at her before somebody picked her up before soon quickly throwing her to the ground, sending a shock through her lower back. She Held in a scream, her lower back and down was her weakest points, making her seem to be weaker than most. Some of the people started spitting at her, a sign a disrespect and hatred towards another person in her area of town, before starting to beat her up again. Some people had targeted new areas of her body that have yet to be hit at, while others targeted the same areas before. Somebody went so far as to break a bottle of beer and cut her cheek deeply right in the middle, almost tempting to slit her throat, luckily, he didn’t.  The Smaller figured smiled under her bandanna, seeing that her plan had worked out as she had hopped, though her planned left her beaten up.  Constantly showing signs of real struggle, the smaller figure was fading for real this time, she felt everything one by one slowly give out, only thing not giving out was her hope for her fellow taller companion.

The taller of the two, though, didn’t like the idea of her shorter and weaker friend to run off with the angered people. She gotten up after managing to held herself together after the few too quick punches and kicks, she looked around at the mess her friend had left behind, specially the hurt and still breathing body of the man she harmed. The taller one sighed at the man, helping him up against the wall and helping his wounds quickly. The man looked in shocked to the taller one as she worked the small bit of medical magic on him before she walked off. The man thought he was indeed going to bleed out, he wasn’t bleeding badly but he couldn’t feel the lower part of his whole body. The taller figure ran off, grabbing both her’s and her friend’s stuff, as the man watched from where he had sat against the wall. She darted, searching everywhere she could, noting the sounds of the alley ways. As she had continued to walk, she heard the sound of a beating, guessing and praying for it to be her friend. Darting swiftly through obstacles, the taller one dashed through towards the sound, soon finding the group of people beating a pile of what once was her friend. She felt flames go to her head and she grabbed the nearest thing and chucked it at a guy’s head, knocking him clean out. The others turned and went off fighting her, some had to run away while others were knocked clean out. After a bit of fighting, she ran to her friend, held her friend in her arms, sadly looking at her bruised and cut up form. Her friend look broken in her arms, she put her head to her friend’s chest, almost in tears to what the group of people left her as, a pile of what she once was. Though her friend was still alive, she didn’t know if she would survive, they both didn’t have barely enough money to feed one another half a hot dog. She let a tear or two fall before falling to a water fall of tears flooding from her tear banks. If her tears were money, her companion robbed all of the banks. As She cried, she felt a weak hand being placed upon her forearm, she slowly looked to the hand, followed it to the owner of it. When she meet with the eyes of her smiling yet weak and beaten companion, she laughed over her tears, remembering her friend never was so weak. She realized, yet again, her friend was stronger than anybody she’d ever met, her small companion had thought the same about her. “W-why..?” Her friend struggled to say. She looked at her friend before pulling her hoodie and bandanna down, revealing her friend’s snow white colored hair, half of it being on her head while the other half had barely any hair. She revealed her friend’s blue eyes a bit more, she also reveals the small demon horns on her head along with the long elf looking ears. She noticed her friend’s demon tail revealing it's self. She sighed again as she began rubbing her companion’s head, trying to comfort her. “hmm..?” She replied, holding her friend closely, her friend’s head on her legs. “Why d-did you co..come -come back?” Her friend struggled once more to say, blood coming off her lip along with blood coming from her nose. The taller one laughed a bit before responding “Cause…You can’t have a Rez without a Raz..” She smiled, hugging her friend closely. Her friend smiled and tried to hug back, only to give a weak hug before coughing lightly, “Thanks, Rez..” Rez smiled to her name and grabbed her friend, carrying her bridal style, along with both their stuff on her back, “No problem, Raz..” Both Rez and Raz smiled before Raz had passed out weakly. Rez then carried her friend to the rundown old abandoned warehouse building both called their home, she would soon get help from close or neighboring friends, staying day and night with Raz, till she had fully recovered.

[coolandreezie]

The Terrible Bargain We Have Regretfully Struck Posted by Melissa McEwan at Friday, August 14, 2009   [Trigger warning.]

Despite feminists' reputation, and contra my own individual reputation cultivated over five years of public opinion-making, I am not a man-hater.

If I played by misogynists' rules, specifically the one that dictates it only takes one woman doing one Mean or Duplicitous or Disrespectful or Unlawful or otherwise Bad Thing to justify hatred of all women, I would have plenty of justification for hating men, if I were inclined to do that sort of thing.

Most of my threatening hate mail comes from men. The most unrelentingly trouble-making trolls have always been men. I've been cat-called and cow-called from moving vehicles countless times, and subjected to other forms of street harassment, and sexually harassed at work, always by men. I have been sexually assaulted—if one includes rape, attempted rape, unsolicited touching of breasts, buttocks, and/or genitals, nonconsensual frottage on public transportation, and flashing—by dozens of people during my lifetime, some known to me, some strangers, all men.

But I don't hate men, because I play by different rules. In fact, there are men in this world whom I love quite a lot.

There are also individual men in this world I would say I probably hate, or something close, men who I hold in unfathomable contempt, but it is not because they are men.

No, I don't hate men.

It would, however, be fair to say that I don't easily trust them.

My mistrust is not, as one might expect, primarily a result of the violent acts done on my body, nor the vicious humiliations done to my dignity. It is, instead, born of the multitude of mundane betrayals that mark my every relationship with a man—the casual rape joke, the use of a female slur, the careless demonization of the feminine in everyday conversation, the accusations of overreaction, the eyerolling and exasperated sighs in response to polite requests to please not use misogynist epithets in my presence or to please use non-gendered language ("humankind").

There are the insidious assumptions guiding our interactions—the supposition that I will regard being exceptionalized as a compliment ("you're not like those other women"), and the presumption that I am an ally against certain kinds of women. Surely, we're all in agreement that Britney Spears is a dirty slut who deserves nothing but a steady stream of misogynist vitriol whenever her name is mentioned, right? Always the subtle pressure to abandon my principles to trash this woman or that woman, as if I'll never twig to the reality that there's always a justification for unleashing the misogyny, for hating a woman in ways reserved only for women. I am exhorted to join in the cruel revelry, and when I refuse, suddenly the target is on my back. And so it goes.

There are the jokes about women, about wives, about mothers, about raising daughters, about female bosses. They are told in my presence by men who are meant to care about me, just to get a rise out of me, as though I am meant to find funny a reminder of my second-class status. I am meant to ignore that this is a bullying tactic, that the men telling these jokes derive their amusement specifically from knowing they upset me, piss me off, hurt me. They tell them and I can laugh, and they can thus feel superior, or I can not laugh, and they can thus feel superior. Heads they win, tails I lose. I am used as a prop in an ongoing game of patriarchal posturing, and then I am meant to believe it is true when some of the men who enjoy this sport, in which I am their pawn, tell me, "I love you." I love you, my daughter. I love you, my niece. I love you, my friend. I am meant to trust these words.

There are the occasions that men—intellectual men, clever men, engaged men—insist on playing devil's advocate, desirous of a debate on some aspect of feminist theory or reproductive rights or some other subject generally filed under the heading: Women's Issues. These intellectual, clever, engaged men want to endlessly probe my argument for weaknesses, want to wrestle over details, want to argue just for fun—and they wonder, these intellectual, clever, engaged men, why my voice keeps raising and why my face is flushed and why, after an hour of fighting my corner, hot tears burn the corners of my eyes. Why do you have to take this stuff so personally? ask the intellectual, clever, and engaged men, who have never considered that the content of the abstract exercise that's so much fun for them is the stuff of my life.

There is the perplexity at my fury that my life experience is not considered more relevant than the opinionated pronouncements of men who make a pastime of informal observation, like womanhood is an exotic locale which provides magnificent fodder for the amateur ethnographer. And there is the haughty dismissal of my assertion that being on the outside looking in doesn't make one more objective; it merely provides a different perspective.

There are the persistent, tiresome pronouncements of similitude between men's and women's experiences, the belligerent insistence that handsome men are objectified by women, too! that women pinch men's butts sometimes, too! that men are expected to look a certain way at work, too! that women rape, too! and other equivalencies that conveniently and stupidly ignore institutional inequities that mean X rarely equals Y. And there are the long-suffering groans that meet any attempt to contextualize sexism and refute the idea that such indignities, though grim they all may be, are not necessarily equally oppressive.

There are the stereotypes—oh, the abundant stereotypes!—about women, not me, of course, but other women, those women with their bad driving and their relentless shopping habits and their PMS and their disgusting vanity and their inability to stop talking and their disinterest in Important Things and their trying to trap men and their getting pregnant on purpose and their false rape accusations and their being bitches sluts whores cunts… And I am expected to nod in agreement, and I am nudged and admonished to agree. I am expected to say these things are not true of me, but are true of women (am I seceding from the union?); I am expected to put my stamp of token approval on the stereotypes. Yes, it's true. Between you and me, it's all true. That's what is wanted from me. Abdication of my principles and pride, in service to a patriarchal system that will only use my collusion to further subjugate me. This is a thing that is asked of me by men who purport to care for me.

There is the unwillingness to listen, a ferociously stubborn not getting it on so many things, so many important things. And the obdurate refusal to believe, to internalize, that my outrage is not manufactured and my injure not make-believe—an inflexible rejection of the possibility that my pain is authentic, in favor of the consolatory belief that I am angry because I'm a feminist (rather than the truth: that I'm a feminist because I'm angry).

And there is the denial about engaging in misogyny, even when it's evident, even when it's pointed out gently, softly, indulgently, carefully, with goodwill and the presumption that it was not intentional. There is the firm, fixed, unyielding denial—because it is better and easier to imply that I'm stupid or crazy, that I have imagined being insulted by someone about whom I care (just for the fun of it!), than it is to just admit a bloody mistake. Rather I am implied to be a hysteric than to say, simply, I'm sorry.

Not every man does all of these things, or even most of them, and certainly not all the time. But it only takes one, randomly and occasionally, exploding in a shower of cartoon stars like an unexpected punch in the nose, to send me staggering sideways, wondering what just happened.

Well. I certainly didn't see that coming…

These things, they are not the habits of deliberately, connivingly cruel men. They are, in fact, the habits of the men in this world I love quite a lot.

All of whom have given me reason to mistrust them, to use my distrust as a self-protection mechanism, as an essential tool to get through every day, because I never know when I might next get knocked off-kilter with something that puts me in the position, once again, of choosing between my dignity and the serenity of our relationship.

Swallow shit, or ruin the entire afternoon?

It can come out of nowhere, and usually does. Which leaves me mistrustful by both necessity and design. Not fearful; just resigned—and on my guard. More vulnerability than that allows for the possibility of wounds that do not heal. Wounds to our relationship, the sort of irreparable damage that leaves one unable to look in the eye someone that you loved once upon a time.

This, then, is the terrible bargain we have regretfully struck: Men are allowed the easy comfort of their unexamined privilege, but my regard will always be shot through with a steely, anxious bolt of caution.

A shitty bargain all around, really. But there it is.

There are men who will read this post and think, huffily, dismissively, that a person of color could write a post very much like this one about white people, about me. That's absolutely right. So could a lesbian, a gay man, a bisexual, an asexual. So could a trans or intersex person (which hardly makes a comprehensive list). I'm okay with that. I don't feel hated. I feel mistrusted—and I understand it; I respect it. It means, for me, I must be vigilant, must make myself trustworthy. Every day.

I hope those men will hear me when I say, again, I do not hate you. I mistrust you. You can tell yourselves that's a problem with me, some inherent flaw, some evidence that I am fucked up and broken and weird; you can choose to believe that the women in your lives are nothing like me.

Or you can be vigilant, can make yourselves trustworthy. Every day.

Just in case they're more like me than you think.

...As I lie awake at night wondering what happened to the light hearted, easy going, flirty girl I once was, I read this and understand. I am angry and also saddened. Trust is important in order to live a complete life. To feel that trust from people you love, and depend on, makes life a secure and happy place. No trust, no security, erodes your very being. Soon, you become someone who you barely recognize. Someone who questions everything. One who decides to do nothing. Who is scared and just plain tired of fighting so hard for respect and dignity.Who trust no one.

[kindofclever]

To you and your followers: I'm not sure how many of you know about the shooting today. But it made me incredibly angry. So I finally decided to do something about it. But I can't do it alone. So I wrote something, and I would like everyone to reblog it, here on Tumblr and everywhere else that you possibly can. facebook, email, phone, even paper mail, you can even print it out and tape it up if you must. But the message needs to get out. Please help me.

YES YES YES THIS IS SO IMPORTANT Y’ALL BETTER REBLOG THE HECK OUTTA THIS

IF YOU’RE CHILL WITH IT I’M JUST GONNA PASTE IT HERE:

“PLEASE READ

To my fellow citizens of this world: Today there has been another shooting in America. I am shocked and disgusted, and, to put a finer point on it, angry. Why must there be so much carnage and suffering?! Have we as a people really sunk that low?! There are shootings every week! There are specific days to hurt people out of hate!

And I ask myself, why? Why does this have to happen? And the answer is, because of hate and fear. The world is broken, and it is up to those of us who live here to fix it. The future is only what we build it into, and right now, we are building an apocalypse. We are building a YA dystopian novel.

There are people rich enough to buy half the planet, while children starve and people are sold into slavery. There are people who focus on nothing but their own personal future. There are still women who only live to serve men. There are still girls who are married against their will at ages as young as twelve. There are still hate crimes. There are still mass shootings. There is still disrespect and abuse of people based off of nothing more than religion, skin color, gender, sexuality, mental illness, the list goes on and on!

And so I ask you this: Do you want it to stop? Do you want our race to feel safe? Because that is what we are, human beings are one race, one kind of being. Nothing else matters. Human beings need to be treated as such.

I ask you this: Have you ever been denied of health, of safety, of love, of clothes, of food, of supplies, of a job, because of who you are? Have you ever seen that happen? If you have not, then imagine yourself in that position. Would you want it to stop? Of course you would!

I do not know what will fix our world. I do not know what will fix America. I was taught to defy tyranny, and that is what I will do. Tyrants will not be tolerated. Tyranny is hurting people for their beliefs. Tyranny is oppressing the poor because they are poor. Tyranny is misogyny. Tyranny is believing yourself to be the only correct person in the world. Tyranny is the king that sits on our throne. America is meant to be the land of the free. I ask you, do you feel free?!

I still do not know how to fix our world. But I do know how to fix parts of it. Just a tiny bit at a time. I started with myself. It begins with accepting yourself for who you are. Then, you start accepting that other people are going to be the way they are. Next, treat everyone with love. Kindness is the most important thing in existence. The smallest act of kindness can change somebody’s life. If you do not understand a person, accept them nonetheless. Educate, do not harm. The first part of changing the world is this: DO NO HARM.

At the same time, doing no harm means not accepting harm done to others. If harm is being done to someone else, whether mental, physical, emotional, spiritual, then you put a stop to it. If you see people perpetuating harm to others, than you stand up and you say no. There is a question that has been asked by people for centuries. How do you know something is alive? You know that something is alive when it can say NO. How will the tyrants and the misguided really know what we need unless we speak up? Say no to hatred, say no to harm, say no those who think it is right to punish people for existing! Do not allow harm to come to anyone!

I have learned my part, and I am still learning, and I want everyone who reads this to think for a minute. I have always been so very unhappy with the state of the world. I have always been unhappy with the pain that I see people going through. Have you ever been unhappy seeing the pain of others? Then do something!

Excuse my language, but I have finally understood that the way that the world should run is this: Do no harm, but take no shit. Do not hurt anyone, but do not just sit and take disrespect and harm from anyone either. Tell them no! Remember that you are alive! Remember that you matter! Remember that everyone deserves to feel safe and loved! EVERYONE!

And so, I ask you this: share this message. Share it with everyone you know. Share it with everyone you don’t know. Post it on your social media. Send it to everyone on your contact list. Print it out and stick it places. Email. Discord. Facebook. Even paper mail! Just stay safe while doing it.

I learned the hard way that I, personally, can never back away from this fight. I am not capable of standing aside and watching so much suffering. I have promised to myself that I will change this world. I have promised to myself that even if I cannot save everyone, even if I cannot save myself, then I will do what I can. And I can do a lot. If you feel the same way, if you will not stop fighting for equality, if you will never stop fighting against tyranny, if you will always fight against hatred, then say it with me: I WILL NOT STAND DOWN. I will never stand down, I will never back away, I will not back away, I will never stop fighting!!!

If I cannot convince you, then thank you anyway. If you are not ready yet to fight, physically, emotionally, mentally, then thank you. I will see you on the front lines when you are ready. To everyone who will not or cannot join this fight for love and equality and safety, then I respect your choice, and I love you.

So please begin. Live your life by love, and not by hate. I await you.

Sincerely,

Adrien Lightwood, 17″