Anonymous asked: I don't understand why everyone is suddently saying that Gypsy is a slurr. Gypsies were a group of people, and yes many would use their names as a insult but to say it is a slurr is giving it that power over the word. I don't understand why someone who is Gypsy or part Gypsy not being proud of their roots; why are they letting the idea of their name being a slurr take power over it? If you treat the word as a slurr, that is what it will become. :c
Did you just… Seriously.
You do realize that their heritage isnt G*psy.. its usually Roma, Romani, or another Nomadic type people. The Roma would roll into town and the townsfolk would call their type G*psy… and not in a oh lets go dance around the fire and buy skirts from them kind of way.
A slurr is a word used to let other people know that a certain type of stereotypical person is among them..even if that person fits no stereotype. Its a word that is used to belittle and humiliate a set group of people.
G*psy was used to elude to the idea that the person they call that was going to lie, cheat, steal, and just all in all be a thief and an unclean person.
So shops would put up signs saying that G*psys were not allowed.. which threw them further into desolation and even today they are often looked down upon and treated as such.
G*psy is not the name of their “people” …..
If you would like to understand how you just sounded.. Replace the word G*psy with the word N*gger…..
…. Go ahead.. re read it…i’ll wait…
Now then.. Do you see how misinformed and very racist you just sounded..
Dont do it again :)
Anonymous asked: I apologize on the behalf of every shitty person who uses mental disorders in an everyday joking around matter because that shit pisses me off. No shes not anorexic shes skinny, no you're not depressed you're sad, no you don't have OCD something is just bothering you just stop. Ugh.
EXACTLY. or “oh man I can’t seem to sit still haha I probably have ADHD hahah”
No. Just fucking stop. Mental disorders and illnesses are not something to joke about.
"Lost yet Found."
It was a Saturday when it happened, and Niall remembers it clear as daylight, he does.
He was sitting there, in the club, minding his own business. Well, wishing he was minding someone else’s business, really. Wondering he it would be like if he -had someone,- you know? What it would be like to kiss a guy. To laugh with him. Niall swirled his whiskey around in the glass.
Tap tap. Niall turned around to see who tapped his shoulder and, he can’t really presently explain what he saw. He’s trying, fidgeting his fingers and looking around the room to find the right words. The only way he can describe the man he saw is.. Need, really.
He needed that man, everything about him.
Niall swirled his whiskey around and swallowed the rest whole. Fuck it, he thought. I’m gunna take what The Lord has given me.
He turned around and smiled at him.
Short brown hair, wide smile. Broad, masculine shoulders. Black leather jacket and an oil-stained shirt.
What did Niall do to deserve this anyways, he wonders? He stuttered over his words when he tried to say hello, but the man just grinned. “It’s alright, mate. I’m Liam.”
That was his name.
Niall remembers how he shook his hand, and how warm it felt. How solid and strong.
How he laughed and how, by leading him out of his chair by the bar, he lead him out of his depression, his anxiety, his grief and his hopelessness.
Ten minutes later, Niall runs his hands on his jeans.
He’s going home with Liam, by god.
It’s been about three months since Niall had last gotten off and, to tell you the truth, he was getting a bit desperate. His search history could prove so much.
Niall laughs as he remembers seeing Liam’s flat. Chic and modern, and warm air.
And kissing against the wall and the way his whimpers arose when Liam’s hands flickered across his abdomen, hands under his shirt.
Niall was on the bed and fully exposed, drunk. Liam is straddling him, on his chest as Niall is laying down. Liam grins his cheeky grin and slides his cock inside Ni’s mouth. Warm, dry. Thick.
Slowly, he runs his fingers through his bottle blonde hair. Niall is overcome with pleasure as Liam’s dick meets the back of his throat, the thick head gently and faintly touching. The taste of skin and the slipperyness of saliva covering Liam’s hard, erect member was overwhelming to Niall and he groaned at the feeling of Liam’s balls touching his neck as he went in deeper, his breath ragged and eyes wild.
Then, the next thing Niall remembers is crying out In pain as Liam grabs the headboard and pulls himself up , deep into Niall’s body. Deeper, deeper. Tighter.
Their heavy breathing is the only thing you could hear, and the tiniest whines and yelps from Niall as, faster, faster Liam fucked him.
Harder, faster. Niall cried out his name and they’re both sure the neighbours would be woken. Harder, faster. Faster. The headboard banged again and again and again on the wall. Liam was a sloppy mess as he fucked Niall into the mattress , plowing him like a wild beast.
Never in his life did Niall imagine losing his virginity like this.
Harder. Liam found the prostate and growled like the man he his, and went in one last time as deep as he fucking could, and laughed as Niall screamed out and released. Liam rode out the high, fucking him again and again until he was satisfied.
Niall is blushing and he stops talking. Harry looks at him like the rest of the boys do. Expectant, ready. Niall shrugs. “That’s it?” Harry jibes. He swats Niall’s arm and the tour bus hits a bump in the road. “That’s it man? Wasn’t there more?” Niall laughs awkwardly and looks to the corner, and it appears like he’s found something very interesting on the floor. A distraction, maybe.
Harry rolls his eyes and the boys turn their focus on Liam. “You next. How did you lose your virginity?”
The Buddha taught that there are two kinds of suffering: that which comes from the outside world, and that which comes from within you. With the latter, only you can do anything about it. Where does that suffering come from? Emptiness. Examining the thoughts and feelings that arise from emptiness is one tenet of Buddhism. Why do we suffer? What is at the root? Where did it begin? When we see the answers to those questions, our suffering, which has arisen from emptiness, returns to emptiness.
Ittetsu Nemoto, “The Counselor”(via tricycle-tumbles)