The Weird One

no bro

You don’t if he’s Northern Irish. You don’t know if he’s Catholic. You don’t know if he grew up watching his people get murdered by Loyalist Protestants and British soldiers who carried heavy racial prejudice against Irish Catholics (hellooo, Bloody Sunday anyone?), who had for centuries been characterized as barbaric, racially inferior, lowly people who needed to be wiped out or converted. Attacks by the IRA, and therefore retaliation by the British, didn’t completely cease until 1998, I believe? This film came out in 2002.

You don’t know if he was an Irishman who grew up in England. Bomb attacks carried out by the IRA in England kindled misplaced aggression toward innocent Irish civilians living among the English population and Irish people were verbally and physically attacked and their businesses targeted. Perhaps similar to how ordinary Muslims bear the brunt of aggression after attacks by Muslim extremists…

You can still find yourself threatened and demeaned if you’re a Catholic in Northern Ireland or if you’re a Protestant in Ireland and some older dude in a pub in a smaller town straight up asks you if you’re Catholic or not and you’re afraid what’ll happen if you don’t lie about who you are.

You can still hear casual racism toward Irish people in everyday life and in publicly broadcast media in the UK.

You can still see and hear “Kill All Irish” and other pretty heavy anti-Irish sentiment among Loyalists in Northern Ireland who don’t consider themselves Irish at all.

Just because it now appears that the island of Ireland has been allowed to move on from war and their appearance and culture generally allows them to blend into and reap the benefits of the White European demographic doesn’t mean that this character does not have the background suitable to fully empathize with her. Maybe he does, maybe he doesn’t, we just don’t know his story.

First of all, pretty much yes to everything about Ireland up there. Growing up in Northern Ireland, I saw the violence from all sides - my father is a British Protestant and my mother is a Catholic, so I basically couldn’t win because according to one side I was a dirty taig and according to the other I was a filthy hun. Luckily I managed to make friends with a mix of both Catholics and Protestants who all thought this attitude was just as stupid as I did, but between all of us, we saw our fair share of sectarian violence, and the Catholics, without a doubt, got it worse.

Irish Catholics were robbed of their country by Protestant invaders centuries ago. They fought and fought and eventually got the Irish Free State (now the Republic of Ireland), however, thanks to the deliberate plantation of Protestants to eradicate the Catholic majority in the North, it was left under British rule. Since then, Catholics have been murdered, arrested, terrorised, tortured and driven out of their houses just for being Irish Catholics. 

I moved from Northern Ireland in 2010 and to the day I left, the violence was not over. I couldn’t wear certain colours in certain areas because I would be beaten. I had fake names depending on where I was stopped, as attackers can determine what religion you are from your name alone (and this is a trick I learned, too, for defence). I can recite my rights if I’m arrested because if I was stopped in certain areas I could be, on the assumption I could be Catholic. I know the subtle sectarian geography of the city of Belfast because if I cross the road in the wrong place I’m in enemy territory. I have been chased by a group of forty people, throwing fireworks at me, because they assumed I was a Catholic. Police were parked on nearby streets and didn’t acknowledge the commotion. My friends and I walk past graffiti screamed “Kill All Taigs”. A fifteen year old boy who lived half an hour from me was beaten to death by a group of adults for being Catholic. For fifty years, people have been detained without trial, tortured, beaten and wrongly imprisoned just for being Catholic, because apparently, being Catholic means you must be in the IRA. 

Even now, I can’t escape it. I have a noticeable Northern Irish accent, which is stronger when I’m around people from there and is noticeable as a strong accent whenever I’m not in the country. At airports, I’m always the one stopped and frisked if they hear my accent. At ferry ports, it’s alway my car (which has Northern Irish registration plates) that’s “randomly selected” for a search. All of this just happened to me, a person who got off lightly.

This happened in 2001/2002. If you can’t be arsed to click the link, the salient information is:

so when an american sees “i, an irishman, understand oppression” their first point of reference is not going to be the troubles or british colonialism, it’s going to be that dogwhistle, and they’re going to react accordingly

no bro

You don’t if he’s Northern Irish. You don’t know if he’s Catholic. You don’t know if he grew up watching his people get murdered by Loyalist Protestants and British soldiers who carried heavy racial prejudice against Irish Catholics (hellooo, Bloody Sunday anyone?), who had for centuries been characterized as barbaric, racially inferior, lowly people who needed to be wiped out or converted. Attacks by the IRA, and therefore retaliation by the British, didn’t completely cease until 1998, I believe? This film came out in 2002.

You don’t know if he was an Irishman who grew up in England. Bomb attacks carried out by the IRA in England kindled misplaced aggression toward innocent Irish civilians living among the English population and Irish people were verbally and physically attacked and their businesses targeted. Perhaps similar to how ordinary Muslims bear the brunt of aggression after attacks by Muslim extremists…

You can still find yourself threatened and demeaned if you’re a Catholic in Northern Ireland or if you’re a Protestant in Ireland and some older dude in a pub in a smaller town straight up asks you if you’re Catholic or not and you’re afraid what’ll happen if you don’t lie about who you are.

You can still hear casual racism toward Irish people in everyday life and in publicly broadcast media in the UK.

You can still see and hear “Kill All Irish” and other pretty heavy anti-Irish sentiment among Loyalists in Northern Ireland who don’t consider themselves Irish at all.

Just because it now appears that the island of Ireland has been allowed to move on from war and their appearance and culture generally allows them to blend into and reap the benefits of the White European demographic doesn’t mean that this character does not have the background suitable to fully empathize with her. Maybe he does, maybe he doesn’t, we just don’t know his story.

First of all, pretty much yes to everything about Ireland up there. Growing up in Northern Ireland, I saw the violence from all sides - my father is a British Protestant and my mother is a Catholic, so I basically couldn’t win because according to one side I was a dirty taig and according to the other I was a filthy hun. Luckily I managed to make friends with a mix of both Catholics and Protestants who all thought this attitude was just as stupid as I did, but between all of us, we saw our fair share of sectarian violence, and the Catholics, without a doubt, got it worse.

Irish Catholics were robbed of their country by Protestant invaders centuries ago. They fought and fought and eventually got the Irish Free State (now the Republic of Ireland), however, thanks to the deliberate plantation of Protestants to eradicate the Catholic majority in the North, it was left under British rule. Since then, Catholics have been murdered, arrested, terrorised, tortured and driven out of their houses just for being Irish Catholics. 

I moved from Northern Ireland in 2010 and to the day I left, the violence was not over. I couldn’t wear certain colours in certain areas because I would be beaten. I had fake names depending on where I was stopped, as attackers can determine what religion you are from your name alone (and this is a trick I learned, too, for defence). I can recite my rights if I’m arrested because if I was stopped in certain areas I could be, on the assumption I could be Catholic. I know the subtle sectarian geography of the city of Belfast because if I cross the road in the wrong place I’m in enemy territory. I have been chased by a group of forty people, throwing fireworks at me, because they assumed I was a Catholic. Police were parked on nearby streets and didn’t acknowledge the commotion. My friends and I walk past graffiti screamed “Kill All Taigs”. A fifteen year old boy who lived half an hour from me was beaten to death by a group of adults for being Catholic. For fifty years, people have been detained without trial, tortured, beaten and wrongly imprisoned just for being Catholic, because apparently, being Catholic means you must be in the IRA. 

Even now, I can’t escape it. I have a noticeable Northern Irish accent, which is stronger when I’m around people from there and is noticeable as a strong accent whenever I’m not in the country. At airports, I’m always the one stopped and frisked if they hear my accent. At ferry ports, it’s alway my car (which has Northern Irish registration plates) that’s “randomly selected” for a search. All of this just happened to me, a person who got off lightly.

This happened in 2001/2002. If you can’t be arsed to click the link, the salient information is:

so when an american sees “i, an irishman, understand oppression” their first point of reference is not going to be the troubles or british colonialism, it’s going to be that dogwhistle, and they’re going to react accordingly

the facial expressions

the effortless sensuality

I AM SO GAY

the inexplicable moment in which the dynamic between the two shifted like they changed bodies

did china allow this to be shown? china?

DID I MENTION THE GAY

what is the lore of this? I figured that it was a malevolent spirit shifting from one body to another

the part with the leg. you know which one I mean

seriously are they actresses cause this level of portrayal is more astounding than any Hollywood actress has ever amounted to

the end with the smile and the head grab and the beating heart

Derek gets taken by hunters. Stiles will do anything to get him back.

Stiles kicks down the door where his husband must be. There is a wave of bodies behind him and upstairs. The body count doesn’t matter when Derek could be dead in this shitty basement in Mexico. 

“Derek?!” he yells again, and there he is. Or there they are, Peter’s here too and somehow Stiles isn’t surprised. 

“Stiles,” Derek croaks out, his voice is shaky, like he’s been screaming, his lips are dry and cracked. 

He sets his guns gently on the ground, and rushes to get the werewolves off of the chainlink fence they’ve probably been tied to for a month. “I’ve got you.”

The cuffs are charmed, which explains why they couldn’t just break them. They aren’t immune to lock picks though, which Stiles is grateful for. Derek falls onto Stiles, bringing him into an embrace and collapsing in exhaustion. Stiles wipes some of the dirt on his face away, and kisses his lips while tears fall from his face. 

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” Stiles admits. He called in every favor he has, and has killed to many people to get here and find Derek another added to the body count. 

“I knew you’d find me,” Derek rasps out, and Stiles goes in for another kiss. 

Author: myfailsafe

Nr of Chapters: 34

Rating: M

Status: Finished.

Type: Romance, Angst.

Pairings:  SasuNaru.

Summary: AU. Sasuke and Naruto, both troubled with the issues of horrible pasts and terrible problems of the present, are forced into being roommates at the local community college. Will troubles arise or will being forgotten bring these two together in the end?

Rabbits, guinea pigs, hamsters, gerbils, tortoises, iguanas, a fucking horse, for fucks sake!

Like. My god, you have so many options for pets that literally CAN’T eat meat! Why would you insist on keeping a predator, if you can’t stomach the idea that they’re goddamn predators??

Do you have any idea how goddamn loving a hamster can be? Would you like to know what it feels like when a bunny asks you for cuddles?

Vegan pets are a thing. Animals that literally only eat plant matter are a thing.

BACK STORY: When I was 12, my mom got married to a halfway decent guy. He’s not bad, but he’s not great either, but he made my mom happy and that’s all that I cared about. In fact, I cared so much about her happiness that I was willing to endure 6 years of living under the same roof as his self-obsessed, obnoxious, spoiled daughter, Amy. The entire time we lived together, she would project all of her insecurities onto me in the form of insults. Being young and wildly insecure about myself, these daily insults well and truly cut me to the core and just continued the cycle of crippling insecurity.

When I started “talking to” a boy for the first time, Kyle, she all of a sudden developed an intense infatuation with him and told me I was forbidden from communicating with him from then on. I was insecure but I was not a pushover. When I didn’t listen to her demands, she took it a step further and told Kyle I had ongoing relationships with several other boys (untrue), which he unfortunately believed. I was completely crushed. She then swooped in and took every opportunity to rub it in my face that she “won” him (i.e. inviting him to my birthday parties at home, inviting me out with her only to later reveal I would be thirdwheeling on their date, making him compliment me and then gloating about how she had such a nice boyfriend, etc). This sort of thing happened countless times, not with just boys but with friends and even workplaces! They ended up dating for two years and, although they had a nasty breakup, Kyle and I remained on good terms, which drove her up the wall. She would constantly ask me, “So did you guys hook up behind my back yet?” while claiming to have moved on already.

When we finally graduated high school (we were in the same year), I could not be happier to move out and go to college. While I was finally living the life I wanted without her toxicity, she went to 2 different unaccredited schools, both of which she dropped out of after 1 semester at each. Eventually, she moved back in with our parents in our hometown and fell into her old ways again (assuming she had ever grown out of them). On the eve of her 19th birthday, she posted to FB about how her friends had gifted her a fake ID and raved about their plans to club hop for her birthday.

Even though I lived 500mi away, she still had to find some way to rub it in my face that I would be missing out on all the fun. I was invited to her birthday event page on FB, where she detailed all the extravagant and expensive things she planned for her special day. We’re talking limo rental, VIP rooms at 2 of the biggest clubs in town, and even some photographer guy who would follow them like paparazzi. She made a public post on the event page where she tagged me and said, “It’s going to be amazing! Too bad you’ll miss out! HAHA. You’ll have to wait 2 years before you can experience any of this.”

It had been about a year since I had last seen or spoken to her. By this point, I was at a much happier place with myself, emotionally. It took me a while to shake off the effects of her emotional abuse, but by god, I did it and I wasn’t going to let her drag me back to those lows again. But this post got me to reminisce about all the things that she had done to me in the past and I couldn’t help but feel a boiling rage inside.

Now, unbeknownst to her, Kyle had recently reconnected with me on FB. It only friendly conversation between us, catching up on each other’s lives, until he suggested we meet up and have lunch (he went to another college an hour away). Lunch turned into us having an afternoon-long shit-talking-fest about Amy. He confessed that she was emotionally abusive to him during their relationship and the only time they didn’t fight was when I was in their company (which is why he didn’t mind me thirdwheeling on all those dates, apparently). During this, he also confessed he had feelings for me but couldn’t forgive himself for letting Amy dangle him in front of me, because he knew that I had liked him. This guilt was apparently something he had been carrying for years and finally found the courage to apologize for now.

REVENGE: Here’s where we get petty. I convinced Kyle to alert his brother, who happened to be the marketing director for one of the clubs Amy had reserved a VIP room at, of these upcoming birthday plans. After he did that, I went home and called the limousine rental company and pretended to be a concerned parent and insisted no alcohol be available since several of the girls were underage. They let me know that they were very appreciative of the notice. And then, I did a little digging and found out who the “paparazzi” guy would be and called him to cancel his services for the event. With her birthday coming up in just a couple of days, I sat back and waited to let the chips fall where they may… and it was better than I could have hoped for. When I asked about it a few days afterwards, she was sure to screech every beautiful detail to me over the phone.

Since the limo did not provide them with alcohol, they stopped by a friend’s house to “pre-game” and sneak in their own supply. Once the driver noticed the gaggle of very drunk girls in his limo, he stopped and made them throw away all of the liquor they snuck in. When they got to the first club, Kyle’s brother, who knew Amy as Kyle’s ex, confronted them at the door and told them there was no way in hell they were getting in. This was VERY upsetting to these group of drunk girls and they all proceeded to make a huge drunken scene, going so far as showing him Amy’s fake ID to “prove” they were allowed in…except the name on the ID wasn’t hers. Kyle’s brother, or “Assfucker” as Amy called him, had security forcibly remove them from the premises. As the cherry on top, he contacted his friends at the other clubs in town and warned them of Amy and her underage entourage, successfully banning her from every single dance club/bar in a 20mi radius. She didn’t even get a refund on the deposits for the VIP rooms. She’s lucky she wasn’t arrested, but she still plays victim to “horrible bad luck.”

Me:

Just imagine it.

Imagine Derek wanting to find the mythical submerged city that his parents had seared for, written about and told him wonderful stories about when he was a baby.

Imagine Stiles being curious about the newcomers and waning to learn about their culture while Derek learns about theirs.

Imagine Stiles and Derek sneaking away to explore the ruins and learn more about Atlantis.

Imagine Derek getting flustered as Stiles strips down to his underwear to take Derek swimming beneath the city to look at the murals.

Imagine Stiles kicking ass when the visitors turn against them.

Imagine Stiles turning into a crystal and Derek risking life and limb to get him back.

you guys remember when PETA stole people pets off their porches and euthanized them?

you guys remember how it came out that PETA kills about 90% of the animals it takes in, including healthy and adoptable puppies and kittens, stating “ We could become a no-kill shelter immediately. It means we wouldn’t do as much work”?

you guys remember when PETA advocated killing all pit bulls for the crime of being pit bulls?

you guys remember when PETA handed out these comics to children when there were no adults looking?

you guys remember when they made a porn site and then filled it with videos of animal abuse, and (also in that link) claimed cats should be vegetarian?

you guys remember when PETA lied about sheep shearing, got caught, and defended the lie as true even after they admitted the sheep in their picture wasn’t even real?

you guys remember when they tried to excuse their horrifying ways by claiming that the person who exposed them was manipulating the facts by taking them and putting them in the wrong context?

Because I remember. I remember everything. 

PETA cares about money and publicity, its a corporation run by a psychopath who is afraid of pitts as it states in the link: she was apparently bit by one, and now she hates them. 

-spread false information about milk causing autism based on outdated bullshit information

-used holocaust imagery to compare the meat industry to concentration camps (no pictures)

-used a young man’s brutal death as a way to say “yeah that’s awful but it happens to animals every day and nobody cares about that” (tw: no pictures but the way the guy died is described and it is really horrible)

-dressed up in KKK robes and protested outside of the Westminister Dog Show to protest breeding/pure bred dogs (tw: racism)

-offered to pay the water bill for literally the poorest neighborhood in Detroit if and only if they all went vegan for a month (tw: self-righteous shitheads)

-and they definitely didn’t have two of their workers accept perfectly healthy animals from an animal hospital, with the implication that they would give them good homes, clarify that these animals were all healthy and well-tempered, and then euthanized them all in the back of a kill-van before dumping their dead bodies behind a grocery store (tw: PICTURES OF DEAD ANIMALS, animal death)

-and they totally didn’t get off pretty much scot-free for it because PETA has loads of money and lawyers to defend themselves, which coincidentally might be why the Cerate family hasn’t seen justice for their kidnapped and murdered dog, Maya. (tw: animal death)

Nah. PETA’s not that bad.

The more people you have for this game, the better. It has to happen at night. The people get into a straight line, and begin to walk in that line all around the area. They cannot turn around and look at each other, and cannot speak; with the exception of the person at the front of the line.

That persons job is to begin the role call. They simply say, “Role Call!” And their name, then each person down the line says their name in turn.

Here’s the kicker: there’s one person not included in the line. The Taker. They have the job of stealing away the person at the end of the line as silently as possible. The game’s sole purpose is to instill a sense of fear and paranoia in whoever is in front, because as more people get taken, there are less and less people to say their names during the Role Call.

The front person decides when they want to start the Role Call. Obviously, the more often it’s said, the less scary it is. But as more and more people disappear, they become Takers and can then do more damage than just the one.

Some Takers can replace the person they stole, making the person directly in front of them either incredibly paranoid or safe. At least until the Role Call. Takers cannot say anything during it, so it usually ends up more terrifying to know that the person behind you is silent. Again, everyone in the line cannot make a sound except responding to the Role Call.

The game is over when the person in front is taken. There is no winning, only waiting. Waiting for your turn to go. Imagine the fear that person in front has, when they softly announce “Role Call” only to find that everyone behind them is gone.