i dont want a childproofed internet i am almost 30 fucking years old. give your kid an internet safety talk and stop making it the problem of every adult on the planet every time some cryptkeeper legislator gets the brilliant idea (via conservative lobbying) to push through yet another bill gutting our access to free expression + increasing the powers of the surveillance state + lining the pockets of Big Data in the name of Protecting The Kids they wont even feed. this shit is exhausting i can’t believe we’re going to be fighting about it for the rest of my life
Blackness, everything is just complete and utter blackness under your eyelids. You feel calm even though your heart is pounding rapidly in your chest. You’re not sure why, just as you’re not sure why you can’t open your eyes. ‘Am I dead?’ you think to yourself. ‘If I really am dead, I wouldn’t be able to think these thoughts, right?’
You’re deep in wonder when you hear a loud slam of metal against metal and you shoot straight up. Your eyes now able to suddenly open. You look around the room, it’s completely empty aside from the bed you’re laying on. You notice a window and run up to it, looking out and seeing nothing but a clouded sky and cement tall buildings. You aren’t sure where you are or how you got here. You try to pry the window open, but it’s locked from the outside.
“Dammit,” you mutter to yourself. You then run to the door, banging on it, trying to open it. “Hello? Can someone help me?! Help me out of here!” you nearly scream, the sound of your voice echoing throughout the empty room. “Help!” you yell louder. Nothing. Nothing and no one comes to your rescue.
You go back to sitting on the bed feeling completely defeated, afraid and confused. Where the hell are you and why can’t you remember anything beforehand? No matter how hard you try to think, you can’t remember a single thing. Nothing but your own name, but even that you’re unsure of.
You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting on the bed, but you assume that it’s probably been at least a few hours. You’ve been fighting back tears the whole time. You’re trapped and scared and you have no idea where you are. You fidget with your hands, anxiety filling your veins when there’s a loud knock on your door. You jump at the sound, staring at the door with wide eyes as ten red hooded figures step inside your room. You can hardly see them as their faces are painted black and silk material runs down them.
“Who are you?” you ask in a shaky voice, your anxiety now morphing into fear. You scoot back on the bed until your back hits the wall. The hooded figures say nothing and continue to stand there in silence. “Who are you?” you ask again, this time a little louder.
“I’m Nico and these are my bishops,” the man in the middle says, motioning to the nine others behind him. Your eyes examine all nine of the figures carefully before looking back at Nico.
“Well, Nico,” you say his name with disgust coating your tone. “Where am I and what am I doing here?” a part of you wants to know the answer, but a bigger part of you now regrets asking the question. You bite your lip nervously at Nico’s reply.
“You’re in Dema,” Nico simply says. You wish you could see Nico and the other’s facial expressions. You want to know what they look like and who these people are. The fact that you can’t makes this whole situation even more unnerving.
“What the hell is Dema?” you ask angrily. Your eyes shift back to the window momentarily. The sky is still gray and for some reason the buildings that you saw a few hours earlier seem even taller. You turn your attention back to Nico and wait for an answer, but he doesn’t give you one. You narrow your eyes at him and the others keep standing there in silence. “How did I get here?” you ask instead.
“We found you,” Nico simply says.
“Found me where?!” you’re growing agitated at this point. All you want is some answers and you’re not getting any. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. “Can you just let me go?”
“”I’m afraid we can’t do that.”
“Well, why not?!” you’re heated again. “Please just give me some sort of answer or reasoning! This isn’t fair!”
“Nothing is fair in the world and nothing is fair in Dema.” Nico’s words pain your stomach, feeling like a million swords twisting around your insides. “Come with me,” he says, turning around with the nine others and begin to walk away. You don’t move at first, but the fear of the unknown takes over and you follow after the red hooded figures.
You trail along the lengthy hallway. Every six feet or so there’s a door. Door after door after door after door. You wonder what kind of evil is behind each of them. What kind of twisted, dark secrets lie in there. You continue to walk down the hall and stop at the eighty seventh door - you’ve been counting this whole time.
You hear footsteps coming from behind you and you turn around. You see three other bishops and a boy in all black clothes following behind them. You watch the boy carefully. He’s not like the others, he’s like you. As he walks by you, you notice he has dark eyes, dark brown hair and slightly tanned skin. The two of you lock eyes for a few seconds. The boy doesn’t look frightened just as you are. His expression is blank, eyeing you for a moment as he passes by you. He turns his head to look back at you until you disappear behind the eighty seventh door.
The room is dark, aside from the lamp sitting on the desk. There’s a main chair behind it and nine others behind the first. Nico sits down and the nine bishops behind him as you sit at the single chair right in front of Nico. It’s silent for a few minutes until Nico breaks it.
“We aren’t here to hurt you, we are here to help you.” You want to laugh, laugh in Nico’s face and call bull, but you stay silent instead and give the leader a deadpanned look. “We found you and we’re to help you get on the right path.”
‘The right path of what?’ you want to ask him, but again, you stay non-verbale. You’re not afraid anymore, you’re just downright pissed. You’re angry at Nico and the niners while the other part of you wonders who the normal boy is following after the three other bishops. You want to ask Nico who that was, but you decide against it. That’s something you’ll figure out yourself. So you’ll obey, you’ll obey. You’ll obey Nico and his bishops and find out who the normal boy dressed in all black is.
“What’s your name?” Nico asks, interrupting your thoughts. You open your mouth, ready to speak your real name, or what you think is your real name, but you stop. You give him a fake name instead.
“Remi,” you lie. “My name is Remi.” you like the sound of the name and how it feels on your tongue. Your name is now Remi.
Stop letting people consume you. they didn’t call? go to sleep. they didn’t message you? put your phone down and have a better day. they left you on read? delete the conversation. they didn’t make an effort? match their energy. never let your happiness depend on anyone
Women, they have minds, and they have souls, as well as just hearts. And they’ve got ambition, and they’ve got talent, as well as beauty, and I’m so sick of people saying that love is just all a woman is fit for.
My name is Mahmoud, and I'm a 17-year-old from Gaza. The ongoing war has devastated my city, destroyed my school, and made daily life incredibly challenging.
Despite these hardships, I'm determined to continue my education and build a better future. I've been given a chance to study abroad, but I need help to cover the costs of leaving Gaza, as well as living expenses and other essentials abroad once the crossing opens.. 🙏
If you can, please consider donating or sharing, your kindness can truly make a difference, and thanks for your time. ❤🍉
https://gofund.me/bd3ccf0b 🔗
Hello back! Unfortunately, I do not have the means to send financial support therefore I'm sharing this in the hope that anyone else can. Please, if you're able to, donate and share to help Mahmoud!
Sending lots of love and praying for you and your family! I hope you get to safety as soon as possible and are able to continue your education and pursue your dreams!
Jane Austen really said ‘I respect the “I can fix him” movement but that’s just not me. He’ll fix himself if knows what’s good for him’ and that’s why her works are still calling the shots today.
Amongst the survivors still thriving (and rotting) on this app, would anyone be interested in Clancy fanfics? Perhaps Clancy x reader? I feel like I might be able to come up with drabbles of sorts to get me back on track
Warnings: angst, set during DH where Sev is headmaster
Gif creds to owner
“Get out,”
The two words rang around the otherwise silent office as Severus stared out of the window, his back to you. Your brows furrowed as you watched him.
“Severus, don’t push me away…” you said, but you couldn’t keep the waver out of your voice. Slowly, you approached him, resting your hand gently on his back, your heart breaking as he flinched.
“I need to keep you safe,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.
“I know, Sev,” you said, your rubbing his back as his shoulders slumped. “But you can’t push me away. I’ll be safer by your side, where you know I am, rather than hidden away,”
“Your wife is right, my dear boy,” Dumbledore’s portrait spoke up, and his statement was met with a general mumble of agreement from the other portraits. “Let your love for one another keep your strong,” even as a portrait, he had a knowing twinkle in his painted eye.
Severus sighed, letting you guide him to your chambers, tears streaming down his face. “Fine. You win, old man,” he said over his shoulder. He turned back to you. “I won’t put you in hiding, my love. But promise me, you won’t do anything stupid,”
