I wish to talk to you, soon. I wonder what’s the probability of talking to you again or even meeting you in some point of our lives. Is it one in a million?
Even from miles away from the stronghold, the young lady could hear the shrieks of the children. Taking another step would take her consciousness away. Escaping the kingdom was not an option for her. She had to save her people. She had to do what she had to. The young lady turned her heel and ran.
Her eyes widen at the sight before her.There she stood, staring at the ever-changing shape and figure that was destroying her home. All of it’s characteristics drew in her attention. It’s hypnotizing flames. Her soft and pure flesh, yearned to be one with its beauty. She could see him staring at her eyes. “Is that you?”
“Rosy, naive, little Berries,” a voice whispered from behind her. She loved how he called her by that name more than the others. “You shouldn’t fear change.”
She did not turn. She did not need to. She could see him staring at her back. She knew very well who was speaking, who would dare chastise the Prince of Acrimony.
“I don’t fear change.” She replied, bold and resolute. There was no response. Without thinking, she turned around. He wasn’t there. Shifting her views, she caught him. He was just a short distance away from her. The saying, “So close yet so far” fitted so perfectly. She whispered, “I just fear the pain it will bring.”
“No life is without pain.” He answered harshly.
She fell silent. No one spoke for a moment. “Now if you do-”
“Wait!” She cried. He went quiet, trying not to lose his cool. Her concerned eyes fixed on his gentle ones and smiled sadly. “You do not have to do this, please.”
“Forgive me.” the young man mouthed and showed his back towards her.
The young lady rushed to her loved one. The flames were dancing beautifully. She was going to catch him and flung her arms around him. The flames flickered with her sudden movement. The fire had gotten stronger, blocking her way. She could spot his shadow. He was there, continuing his path into the flames. She screamed his name over and over again, hoping it would work.
And she lowered her head and weep.
There are times where it’s alright to progress slowly.
No words today. This is extremely bad.
And the day is almost ending over here. I’ve almost reach the minimum number of words that is needed per day.
This is 19 year old Marie Fowler. Her cancer just returned, and has been declared terminal. She’s already in Hospice Care. Her final wish is to meet Kellin Quinn from Sleeping With Sirens. Please, make it happen. Spread the word. This girl deserves it.
The small amount of notes on this post worries me.
SIGNAL BOOST. LET’S MAKE THIS HAPPEN.
COME ON GUYS, IF WE CAN GET A FLUFFY CHICKEN FOR SOMEONE WHY NOT THIS
REBLOG THIS OR ELSE
imagine it’s you
imagine it’s you or someone you love
[Image: A picture of a tall, very thin Black woman with her shoulder over a shorter, older white man wearing traditional Orthodox Jewish clothing on a New York sideway.]
“This one is very serious, guys:
I came upon these two on the sidewalk. They were having a conversation. “Excuse me,” I said, addressing the girl: “I’m sorry to interrupt, but is there anyway I can take your photo?”
“Why would you want my photo?” she asked.
“Because you look beautiful,” I said. And she did. She was Sudanese. There is a very distinct beauty among people from the Sudan, and she was filled up with it. Suddenly the man cut in:
“I was just telling her she was beautiful,” he said.
Naively, I assumed I had just walked up on one stranger giving a compliment to another. I wanted to capture the moment. “Let me take your photograph together,” I said. The man seemed reluctant, he started smiling nervously and inching away. But the girl called him back.
“Come take a picture with me,” she said. Encouraged by her attention, he returned. She put her arm around him, and I took the photo.
As I examined the photos on my camera, the man started whispering to the girl. She answered him in a loud voice: “I told you! I’m not that kind of girl.” She seemed agitated now. Finally sensing that I had misread the situation, I stepped between them. The man began hurrying down the sidewalk.
When the man left, the girl’s demeanor changed completely. She seemed shaken. Her eyes were tearing up. “He just offered me five hundred dollars to go out with him,” she said. “And then when I said ‘no,’ he offered me one thousand. Why does this always happen to me?”
“It happens a lot?” I asked.
“All the time,” she said. “I’m sorry I’m getting emotional. I just can’t go out of my house without this kind of thing happening. I have a son. I’m a mother. I would never degrade myself like that. I just don’t understand why this keeps happening.”
“Do you mind if I tell this story?” I asked.
“Please,” she said. “Tell it.”
Let’s hope this man, and all men, realize the emotional damage they are inflicting on the women they try to buy. In the meantime, feel free to SHARE.*
Dear Tumblr, fuck you for trying to erase this.
I’m saving this post because as many times as Tumblr tries to erase this woman’s story and act like anything about this was okay, that’s as many times as I’m reposting it. They can either cut me off or stop being assnuggets about this. whichEVER.
i will always reblog this. because if this woman were white, the mass-erasure of this image and story would not be happening. and that just speaks volumes to me. the bigotry that contributes to this woman’s constant harassment is the same bigotry that led to the erasure of this story in order to ‘protect’ this man. they are COMPLETELY connected. this is a vicious cycle that perpetuates anti-blackness and the degradation and silencing of black women and women of color as a whole.
oh look trubr0wn just deployed more truth bombs.
i am the truth bomb terrorist.FUCK YOU TUMBLR. I will reblog this every god damn twelve hours. You willNOT erase this woman’s story just because HONY is a bigot who is full of shit. Tumblr staff is full of shit. They are ALL full of shit. And fuck every single one of you shitty people for thinking that you’re going to win. You will NOT.
Hey this disappeared off my tumblr how strange
anyway, here it is again, supporting this lovely lady who has to put up with this crap just because she exists and goes outside, and to call shame on a society that would actually force her to put her arm around the creep who just upped his price after she told him that she wouldn’t whore for him
Here it is, calling attention to the FACT that the aggressor, the perpetrator of this outrage was the one protected, and the victim is just supposed to disappear
To that I say no
Open season on Black women is OVER.
I’m going to back up my Tumblr.
But I just want to see if Tumblr will ignore the e-mail I just wrote to them getting unwanted messages by users I’ve told to leave me alone and will send me another e-mail about “violating copyright,” if not try to delete my blog for reblogging this picture and story that needs to be seen and heard.
I’m not claiming ownership of anything, BTW. Picture, story behind the picture, and the erasure of the picture copyrighted2012 by humansofnewyork.tumblr.com . And reblogging this picture has an educational reason behind it — to show how black women are dehumanized, and then silenced if they ever speak out.
Do you have any idea how fucking scary and brilliant this is at the same time?
This is absolutely terrifying. Just look at it, it is so real and astonishing. You need to reblog this. I don’t care if you’re used to reblogging orange, teenage girls with vans on. I don’t care if you’re used to reblogging vintage or photography. This is real. You can even see the fury in his eyes. The tense muscles in between his fingers. The heavy breathing. reblog this. NOW.in all seriousness thoughM..my heart just stopped… ;~;Guys, you’ve got to reblog this. It’s reality and it needs to be brought to everyone’s attention.I lost a friend to this kind of harassment. I really don’t want to remind myself of everything that happened so I won’t say a word about it. All I will say is, he was one of my best friends and the kindest person I had ever known. The pain I went through after his death was indescribable. I want you all to know that it’s not easing knowing that someone you love had such thoughts that they didn’t deserve living anymore. I’m not good with words at all so please excuse this lousy paragraph I have attempted to write to move you. I am serious though. Don’t ignore this.i’m going to reblog forever.This kills me, please stop this.it seriously hurts to know people say thishow the fuck could you possibly send someone hate, or make rude comments when you know all to well that this could be the outcome, makes me sick. somebody please stop this from happening.
ALRIGHT STOP SCROLLING RIGHT NOW. REBLOG THIS. I DON’T CARE IF YOU ARE A HIPSTER, SUMMER, PHOTOGRAPHY, BOHO, SURF, WHATEVER BLOG. REBLOG THIS.
Oh my god
THIS MOVED ME SO MUCH GUYS REBLOG
((I DONT CARE WHAT KIND OF BLOG YOU ARE
IF YOU SCROLL PAST THIS WITHOUT REBLOGGING I WILL COME TO YOUR HOUSE AND HURT YOU
I will seriously kill you if this is not reblogged by all of you shits
Brazilian model Alexandre Cunha was paired with a three-year-old moptop to showcase Smalto’s matching child-sized and adult tuxedos. Unfortunately, while the pressure of performing didn’t faze the buff Brazilian, his partner broke down in tears as they were striding the catwalk:
Once, I was supposed to close a show with a 3-year-old kid and we both had matching outfits. During rehearsal, everything went as planned, but on the day of the show he started crying halfway down the runway, so in my head I thought, “What am I supposed to do?!” I ended up picking him up and I carried him to the end of the runway.
THIS IS SO CUTEEEEE