Black people.. Do we sleep with the door open?
Reblog: No
Like: Yes
The entire black community needs therapy. I said what I said.
You’re right. We’re grappling with centuries of being racially terrorized , internalized racism, misogynoir, colorism, Ankhs/Hoteps spreading misogynoiristic and homophobic falsehoods as gospel truth to make up for the disconnect to our ancestry, seeking white approval at our own detriment, Xenophobia towards foreign black people, Africans vs Caribbean vs African Americans and so on. We need therapy asap.
Danai Gurira, Lupita Nyong’o and Michael B Jordan in InStyle’s Golden Globes Party Elevator
a smoke n a drink
IT’S WARM IN HERE by Yah Yah Scholfield / 7.2k words / a gothic horror x science fiction piece
It’s back up! I wrote this piece in 2016, and it was pretty much the first time I ever, you know, wrote something that felt serious and mature, and after two years of spicing it up and editing it, I really feel like it’s one of my best. My inspirations for this work are —, well, I don’t think I had any when I first began. I was editing this old story I wrote on my old, old, old personal blog like ? In 2013, and that’s where all the characters come from. I think this is a fitting tribute for them; a short story that I adore, and I’ll hope you adore too!
Anyways, ‘It’s Warm in Here’ is about a ship called the Messiah’s Glory, about the people on this ship who make it run and work. And, in many ways, like many of my works, it’s about alchemy — equal exchanges and balance.
Likes are appreciated, but reblogs and comments are appreciated even more! If you want to see more writing like this, you can support me by commissioning me ( IM or Inbox is fine!) or donating to my KO-FI! Thanks!
If there was rest aboard the Messiah’s Glory that night, Captain Nichols found none of it. The motion of the ship which could soothe the most restless of hearts worked no wonders on her. The glow of the stars combined with the glow of the incandescent lamps seemed to glare down at her. The lulling patter of the artificial rain in the greenhouse was less like a lullaby and more like a thunderstorm, roiling and crashing against her head. And the tick-tick-ticking of the old grandfather clock which stood at the center of the ship like a gigantic one-eyed sentry tick-tick-ticked louder and louder until it sounded like shoes behind her, another heart beating in her chest.
She paced. Yawning, her dark eyes darted anxiously as she walked the upper deck of the ship. It was her fourth day without so much as a wink of sleep, and it showed on her dark and aged face. The dim and fire-like lights made strange shadows on her skin, the circles beneath her eyes darkened into black disks. Every once in while, she stopped her pacing, rolled her neck and shuddered, her entire body wracked with a shivering spasm that she fought to recover from. When she regained herself, she walked on, coat tails trailing behind her as she listened jealously to the hum of the ship for even it slept when she couldn’t. When she wouldn’t.
We tried to tell yall Drake is a pedophile when we found out he was texting lil Millie Bobby Brown and bought out that restaurant for the newly 18 year old girl, but yall like his (wack) music so much yall didn’t wanna hear it.
They not tryna listen until he has an “official victim” even then they may not listen for 25 yrs
When I asked Ms. Dyer if she could tell me which industry served as Glitterex’s biggest market, her answer was instant: “No, I absolutely know that I can’t.”
I was taken aback. “But you know what it is?”
“Oh, God, yes,” she said, and laughed. “And you would never guess it. Let’s just leave it at that.” I asked if she could tell me why she couldn’t tell me. “Because they don’t want anyone to know that it’s glitter.”