sandersstudies:

madamedraconis:

sandersstudies:

My sociology professor had a really good metaphor for privilege today. She didn’t talk about race or gender or orientation or class, she talked about being left-handed.

A left-handed person walks into most classrooms and immediately is made aware of their left-handedness – they have to sit in a left-handed seat, which restricts their choices of where to sit. If there are not enough left-handed seats, they will have to sit in a right-handed seat and be continuously aware of their left-handedness. (There are other examples like left-handed scissors or baseball mitts as well.)

Meanwhile, right-handed people have much more choice about where to sit, and almost never have to think about their right-handedness.

Does this mean right-handed people are bad? No.

Does it mean that we should replace all right-handed desks with left-handed desks? No.

But could we maybe use different desk styles that can accommodate everyone and makes it so nobody has limited options or constant awareness that they are different? Yes.

Now think of this as a metaphor. For social class. For race. For ethnicity. For gender. For orientation. For anything else that sets us apart.

WHY DOESN’T THIS HAVE MORE NOTES?

Because I posted it about 90 seconds ago, calm down.

Take It Easy

itsaboutsam:

Summary: Sam throws up by the side of the road and has a subsequent mild meltdown.

Fandom: Supernatural 

Pairing: Gen

Word Count: 845

Written for @badthingshappenbingo

Square Filled: Food Poisoning 

—-

The car was in idle but the radio had been left on, muffled by the rumble of the Impala’s engine. Eagles. Their self-titled debut album. Released in 1972. 

Sam had inherited too much classic rock knowledge from Dean. 

He was crouched down by the tailpipe, braced against the hubcap, praying they could at least make it to a motel before he died. Snuffing it by the side of the road on some unknown Minnesota highway felt… anticlimactic. 

Keep reading

caffeinewitchcraft:

Relationships get so bananas when you start deciphering the other person’s love language.

Like I thought I was just acquaintances with this person because they never told me details about themselves and we just talked movies and writing . But then they made time to have coffee with me and they showed up out of breath because they ran. Like. RAN to be on time for coffee with me?

And I was like “i don’t mind waiting” cause I never want to run

But they said they wanted every minute they could get because I’m so busy usually

Which is when it clicked that I didn’t get how much they considered me a friend because I just straight away didn’t see MY signs of affection in them and went “cool! Casual buds it is.” But now that I’m seeing their signs of affection, I feel a little silly for dismissing them like that even though I felt like we could be best bros.

Anyway, some people show affection through time or intensity or commitment and not vocally. I really have to remember that!

sastiel + after rescuing sam from the cage a 2nd time

kansaskissedlips:

When Castiel rescues Sam Winchester for the second time, the human’s soul and body are not physically destroyed as they had been previously. He is pale and shaking, but relatively unharmed.

His mind, however, is probably a different story.

“Tell me your name,” Castiel says softly, holding Sam close, arms wrapped tightly around him.

“Sam Winchester,” he replies, his voice wobbly. “My name is Sam Winchester.” He buries his face into Castiel’s chest.

“Did he hurt you?” 

“No,” Sam whispers. “He didn’t touch me. He barely talked to me. I’m still –” His breath hitches.

“Scared?”

Sam’s voice breaks on a sob. “Yes.”

“Shh,” Castiel murmurs. “You’re out. You are safe, Sam.”