sweettea-and-honeybutter - Tumblr blog

[sweettea-and-honeybutter]

It couldn't get more dystopian than the fact that we live in a world where most people are so morally apathetic that not even the massacre of children doesn’t shake their feelings; instead, they choose to ignore the suffering of others with willful ignorance. The way so many people have shown absolutely zero regard for Palestinian genocide and ethnic cleansing should terrify us all.

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Hey remember how Noir is an anti-fascist from 1933

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Yeah you like Hobie Brown but are you normal about black people?

Like I get it you want him but what do you think of black for black relationships speak clearly into the mic

like okay yeah you think he's cute but do you assume people with hair like this are dirty

Do you think they're unkempt??? Or unemployed. Do you think they wash their hair? Would you ever in your life describe a guy with this hair as cute or hot

One hand on the bible would you date a black man with hair like this yes or no

Can you name any famous man his complexion that you find attractive?? DO YOU EVEN FIND DANIEL KALUUYA ATTRACTIVE??

Name anyone besides him

6'5" black guy with freeform hair and ripped up clothes walking near you at night? You spooked? Your heart racing? You clocking him as a threat? Hmmm? One word answer

6'5" lower class black guy getting stopped by police - you hanging around just to make sure everything is okay? ?? Yeah ???? YEah????

You like him but do you Like Him like him? Do YOU? 👀

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This is the most beautiful shot of this frame I have and I got it by taking a pic of a TV with my phone camera.

How. How is this better than a screenshot???

[sweettea-and-honeybutter]

Ive noticed recently that my generation has... no concept of what the various economic classes actually are anymore. I talk to my friends and they genuinely say things like "at least i can afford a middle class lifestyle with this job because i dont need a roommate for my one bedroom apartment" and its like... oughh

You guys, middle class doesnt mean "a stable enough rented roof over your head," it means "a house you bought, a nice car or two, the ability to support a family, and take days off and vacations every year with income to spare for retirement savings and rainy days." If all you have is a rented apartment without a roommate and a used car, you're lower class. That's lower class.

And i cant help but wonder if this is why you get kids on tumblr lumping in doctors and actors into their "eat the rich" rhetoric: economic amnesia has blinded you to what the class divides actually are. The real middle class lifestyle has become so unattainable within a system that relies upon its existence that theyve convinced you that those who can still reach it are the elites while your extreme couponing to afford your groceries is the new normal.

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"Noah Schnapp is too young he doesn't understand what he's doing!" meanwhile Redveil...

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I grew attached to these journalists who risk their lives everyday to show us the truth. This is Plestia, a journalist in gaza. This is what she said in her last video after the blackout on gaza.

Plestia's name is special. It comes from the first group of people who lived in the land of Palestine who came from the Aegean sea. They were known as the plestia tribes who lived there for 5-6 centuries. The name "plestia or flestia" later led to the name Palestine, the country we know now.

Here's her account.

[sweettea-and-honeybutter]

As always, the Irish speak nothing but facts.

How many more innocent civilians have to be killed by Israel before you condemn that for it?

That is a genocide.

That this is a crime on all accounts.

And deserves to be punished to the full extent off the law.

[sweettea-and-honeybutter]

Oh this was so beautiful 😮‍💨🥺💕

drowning

Welcome to my first proper fic. In honour of @brianabreeze reaching 4k followers (CONGRATS SIS🎊) I made a little something something.

Prompt: “Shh. I know”.

NSFW ALPHABET

Warnings: None

Taglist: @brianabreeze @bury-me-in-the-ocean @blackpantherimagines @bury-me-in-the-ocean-main @chadwickfrantic @captainsordersfic @dopeass90sbaby @dramaqueenamby @elixirtchalla @eerythingisshaka @justanotherloveaffair @kumkaniudaku @lavitabella87 @laurakirsten @muse-of-mbaku @marvellovegalore @muva–milaje @seventven @sweettea-and-honeybutter @sarahboseman @sisterwifeudaku @uncomfie @wakandanblogger @writingmarvellousimagines @wakandankings sorry if you don’t want to be tagged, just tell me.

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Drowning. The only way she could describe her current state. There wasn’t a single emotion, event or person she could fault for the way she was feeling when it all flooded her at once. And with no way to measure out quantities, dilute or filtrate her feelings Amara was left drowning.

It was almost comical - Chadwick lying next to her, sprawled out on their shared bed peacefully, his light breathing evidence that he was not dead whilst she lay with her elbow on the pillow propping her up with a heavy heart. He had this way of making everything look okay even when he was stressed or tired and she almost hated him for it. Looking at his relaxed state, she wouldn’t have been able to tell he had come from a frustrating day of shopping with his stylist for his upcoming press tour. She wouldn’t have been able tell anyway if he hadn’t complained about it to her for nearly four hours.

But even whilst he mumbled and grumbled about Ashley dragging him to every single store in one of the biggest malls in Los Angeles, she was unable to fully focus. For even with her lover around, the man who could take her to unimaginable heights and feelings of euphoria she was unable to stay afloat.

If anything his presence annoyed her.

She was annoyed that everything seemed perfect for him. And it was, he was the Black Panther, for god’s sake. And soon he would be going back to playing him and leaving her to drown in the sorrow that flooded every single vein that ran through her body.

-

Nearly every night she’d lay like this. Most of the time just frozen, staring into space. Sometimes curled in a ball trying to muffle the light whimpers and sobs. The only thing that was consistently present during these nights was the overwhelming feeling - the struggle to stay afloat and the struggle to not just let go and allow her emotions to engulf her.

Amara knew there was a part of her still present - still peeking through. The part that allowed her to appreciate how good Chadwick looked under the moonlight, the part that allowed her to rest the night before a meeting and the part that pushed her to wake up Chadwick and spill all her feelings into him.

But there was always something holding her back. Maybe it was her fear of him not understanding, not being able to save her or the part of her that feared she would project her melancholy onto him and she couldn’t do that to him. She couldn’t risk his career and well being because she was unable to pull herself together.

The sobs that left her lips after the thought of Chadwick finding out was deafening in comparison to the quiet, crisp night. The sound bounced off the walls and suprised her. She had managed to drown in her sorrows successfully every single night for the past month. Why was tonight different?

She was too scared to tear her gaze away from the wall behind him and too upset to move and turn to avoid his own gaze. She knew he knew now. He knew that his suspicions were right. That everytime she said she was was fine, she was lying. Everytime she said she was tired, she was just too sad to bring herself to communicate with him. And those bags and dark circles beginning to form around her eyes were because of her relentless misery that tormented her even through the night.

“Amara”, he called out tentatively, almost scared that if his voice was too loud or too harsh she’d break like a porcelain doll.

Maybe it was his voice, so soft, it was like silk. Maybe it was the realisation that all her fears of him finding out were becoming a reality. Maybe the realisation that she wasn’t alone like she had been convincing herself for the past month. Or maybe it was all of these factors combined because she crumpled.

The elbow that propped her up gave out and she fell into her pillow sobbing. Words that she’d been unable to say for weeks began flooding out into one incoherent mess. Chadwick was only able to understand parts of it. “Overwhelmed.” “Alone.” “Unhappy.” “Drowning.”

“Shh. I know.”

He moved from laying on his back to his side so he could hold her. Pulling her from the pillow she was crumpled into and into his arms, he began to prepare what to say. With a gentle touch, he moved her scarf forward to protect her edges and wiped a tear with his thumb. Chadwick cupped her cheek and looked down at the love of his life.

Never had he seen her so lost or hurt. The usually smiley, bubbly woman was now a silent ghost and he hated himself for it. For ignoring the signs, not calling her more, not taking time off work to visit her like she would. But now wasn’t the time to beat himself up over it.

Amara’s sobs had now reduced to whimpers and sniffles. In an attempt to contain the small noises that left her mouth, she buried her face into Chadwick’s neck but he was having none of it. He pulled his head back and lifted her chin to look up at him. Even with puffy, red eyes she was still the the most beautiful woman in the world.

“Hey”, he called out softly, causing her to look up at him softly, meeting his silky gaze for the first time that night.

“When you’re ready we can talk but I promise you, I’m going to be here for you every step of the way”.

As he spoke his eyes looked intensely into hers. He wanted, no scratch that, needed her to understand that he would do anything to make her happy again. Anything to make her smile. Anything to make her understand that everything would be okay.

For the first time that night she was ready to speak. Not to admit her feelings coherently but rather to just ask for help. Not something that would heal her completely but stop the pain for a while.

“Could you hold me please?”, she spoke, swallowing the lump in her throat. He didn’t give an answer but instead moved to lay on his back and open his arms and allow her to lay onto his chest and rest her legs between his.

And for the first time in a month Amara slept peacefully. Her last thought not being how unstable she felt. It was how blessed she was, knowing that Chadwick was here. And how reassuring it was that he’d always be here.

And before his eyes fluttered closed and sleep consumed him he vowed that he’d always make sure she was straight. And as long as he was by her side she wouldn’t be drowning. And as long as they had each other Amara would always stay afloat.

No more drowning.

[sweettea-and-honeybutter]

november please be good for me

[sweettea-and-honeybutter]

Realizing I crave to be dominated in a soft, affectionate way that makes me feel wanted, desirable and worthy of every kiss, every touch, every second of pleasure I’m given. I want to give away control to someone who will choose to care for me and appreciate me in every way.

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the man who owns and runs the thai restaurant in my town knows me by name. he is one of the kindest and most thoughtful men i know. i started ordering from his place back in january, which was when i got my fibromyalgia diagnosis. back then i was using a walker, had limited mobility in my entire body but especially my hands, and was very visibly in pain. i always ordered the same thing: yellow curry with no meat, potatoes and carrots only (i have texture and other dietary issues). he always made it a point to make sure i could get out the door and carry the food safely. he had his workers package the food so that it was easier for me to open. as i kept coming back and i told him a little bit about my health status, he would always encourage me to keep going. he told me about how the spices he used were good for inflammation and began to edit the recipe just for me so that spices that were even better for fighting inflammation were used. he’d give me extra portions and despite the fact that i would tip every time, i realized later that he never charged my card for them. as time went on and my condition began to get better, he would make encouraging remarks and tell me how happy he was for me. the day i came in without my walker, he practically jumped for joy, and despite my insistence, he gave me my meal for free that day. i continue to make progress with my conditions and i continue to go to the thai place. this man who does not know me personally and who i hardly know anything about is one of my favorite people. it’s interactions with humans like these that make loving life easier. and his curry really does help my chronic condition. it’s comfort food taken to the next level.

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We shall march. We shall protest. We shall pray and hope and preach. Palestine shall be free. And we won’t forget.

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healthy love exists and it’s worth being patient for