wingedbeastie

a-little-bi-furious:

natashiyaa:

shatteredchrystal:

runaon:

a-little-bi-furious:

asherehsa:

samjoonyuh:

Perspective. 

"Looting? I thought these were supposed to be nonviolent protests"

I know it’s incredible! People are literally coming out of the woodwork to comment on this photoset to focus on the looting headline with “well yes it is nice they were helping people hit with the tear gas, but stealing is still wrong uwu” as if they’re back to kindergarten morality.

Like everyone who’s gone to boot camp I’ve been tear gassed. They put about 50+ of you in a gas chamber and toss it in. You have to stay there until your rank is allowed to exit. Before that though, you have to say your name, rank, and social security number. You then exit and file into ranks (again) outside and are not allowed at any point to rinse your face or eyes for the entire day.

That right there? Easily the worst part of boot camp. My eyes were literally swollen shut. I was blinded for a good 30 minutes and my chest hurt for days.

I have zero problem and not and ounce of judgement for people raiding a mcdonalds that can easily afford to repair damage for ANYTHING to help ease the shittiness that is being tear gassed. Esp because every one of us in boot were medically sound to deal with tear gas. Children, asthmatics, people prone to panic and anxiety attacks, the elderly as sooo many more are NOT going to handle tear gas well at ALL.

Or that smoke the police use either.

It’s easy to sit there and judge someone from the safety of your home and say things like “it’s just tear gas” or “it can’t be that bad”.

Fuck you. As someone who HAS been gassed, you need to stfu.

I remember all the preparation they did to get us ready for the gas chamber in boot camp. We were taught how to handle ourselves, how to control our breathing, not to touch anything, how to avoid the worst of the gas. But it still didn’t matter. I remember taking in that first breath and feeling like I had just been kicked in the chest. I remember a few guys in my platoon falling down and vomiting. We knew the gas wasn’t as bad on the floor but we were the fifth platoon through and the vomit kept us from bending over more than absolutely necessary. I remember a few guys, guys in peak health training to be infantrymen, breaking ranks and running for the door only to be dragged back in kicking and screaming until they said name, rank and serial. They were expecting it, trained for it, bragging about how it wouldn’t bother them.
I remember standing there with all of the mucus from my nasal cavity on the front of my ACUs and thinking to myself “This is the nonviolent option?”
Covered head to toe and my skin still itching I looked down at the silver wedding band hanging next to my dog tags and realized that the gas had eaten little pits into its surface.
I stood there and thought of all the news reports I had seen over the years. The uprisings and revolutionaries being gassed, the crowds running from men in masks.
That’s the moment I got it, staring at my ruined wedding band, that’s the moment I realized terrorism isn’t about bombs or who is using them. It’s about controlling people through fear. It’s about removing their ability to act reasonably, to make them seem like the monsters. Terrorism is about triggering people to fight or flight then blaming them for not being rational. It’s about power. Remove someone’s power to act with reason, and you remove their humanity.

Oh fuck

My god this commentary is perfect. Also a reminder that it turned out this “looting” was not that at all, the police bust that window with a bullet and the staff were gracious enough to hand milk out it seems, the protestors did not break in but even if they did just look at what they were trying to do with that milk, look at what they went through. The immense endurance that’s been shown by the people of Ferguson in the face of all this is incredible.

pheberoni

dudewheresmyhalla:

See now I’m on a feminism bender and I want to talk about all the female characters done massive injustice by this fandom.

Let’s talk about Anora. Let’s also have a fucking talk about Isabela. In fact, let’s have a riveting discussion RE: fandom reactions to “betrayals” of female characters vs. male characters.

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merrilly
The problem is that white people see racism as conscious hate, when racism is bigger than that. Racism is a complex system of social and political levers and pulleys set up generations ago to continue working on the behalf of whites at other people’s expense, whether whites know/like it or not. Racism is an insidious cultural disease. It is so insidious that it doesn’t care if you are a white person who likes black people; it’s still going to find a way to infect how you deal with people who don’t look like you. Yes, racism looks like hate, but hate is just one manifestation. Privilege is another. Access is another. Ignorance is another. Apathy is another. And so on. So while I agree with people who say no one is born racist, it remains a powerful system that we’re immediately born into. It’s like being born into air: you take it in as soon as you breathe. It’s not a cold that you can get over. There is no anti-racist certification class. It’s a set of socioeconomic traps and cultural values that are fired up every time we interact with the world. It is a thing you have to keep scooping out of the boat of your life to keep from drowning in it. I know it’s hard work, but it’s the price you pay for owning everything.

Scott Woods (X)

he motherfucking dropped the truth.

(via mesmerisme)

THAT’S THE PRICE YOU PAY FOR OWNING EVERYTHING

(via queerfabulousmermaid)

this is a super important explanation to think about whenever you feel like telling someone that something isn’t racist because you don’t hate x person.

(via robotsandfrippary)

I probably reblogged in the past, but here it is again in that case.

(via feministdisney)

renaissancedweeb

DA: Inquisition Short- Kaly Cadash

renaissancedweeb:

Based off of this post and the fact I’ve been wanting to write something with Varric and Kaly lololol

************************************************************************

     The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

     ”How many do you have, Hawke?”

     By the time he had caught himself three more enemies had fallen to Bianca’s onslaught, but then both he and she stopped. He knew what had happened, he had gotten to humming an old tune then fell into the easy rhythm of fights that had seemed so long ago. This was not some Orlesian city, no, this was Lowtown with its bevy of bandits and thugs that always seemed to think that quantity and not quality was what was going to take Hawke and his crew down. Of course, that was all a lie because here he was in Orlais with a woman shaped battering ram that was not Aveline-though to be fair she had threatened him with violence, too,-a surprisingly fashionable mage that did not like cats or glow blue when angered, and a leader full of sass and snark, but she was not Hawke. She was also looking right at him, worry creasing her brow, which brought him out of his reverie.

     A battlefield was no time to be reminiscing about good times long gone-and it said a lot that he considered those nightly excursions through Lowtown good times-but he was not sure he wanted the battle to end now. After everything was said and done there would be questions, comments, concerns, and that was supposed to be his job. It had been a tough potion to swallow when he had finally realized that he had no real place in this ragtag rabble, that he was nothing more than a dwarf with a crossbow. Sure he still had his connections, still gave out his nicknames, but there was no Rivaini, no Blondie, Broody, Daisy, Junior-and Aveline was one of a kind, even if her name was not-and there was also no Hawke. He had never felt so lost in his entire life and the thought weighed heavy on his mind.

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