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raetherandom:

BIkers Against Child Abuse Helps Make Abused Children Feel Safe Again

“A biker’s power and intimidating image can even the playing field for a little kid who has been hurt. If the man who hurt this little girl calls or drives by, or even if she is just scared, another nightmare, the bikers will ride over and stand guard all night.

If she is afraid to go to school, they will take her and watch until she’s safely inside.

And if she has to testify against her abuser in court, they will go, too, walking with her to the witness stand and taking over the first row of seats.”

During one such testimony, a little boy sat on the stand, testifying against his abusive father, who sat less than 10 feet away.  

“Why didn’t you say anything before now?” Asked the prosecutor.

“I was scared.” The little boy replied, honestly.

“Why aren’t you scared now, what changed?” The prosecutor watched the little boy closely as he pointed to the front row of seats in the court room.

“Because my friends are scarier than he is.”

shit like this makes me have faith in humanity again.

Yes!!!!

there are very few things i love more in this world than Bikers Against Child Abuse.

I love this.

This is fucking awesome. 

tylerknott:

Typewriter Series #408 by Tyler Knott Gregson

Text for Tired Eyes:

I think she has roots in the soles of her feet
and when she walks
she plants herself into the earth
and lets the earth take hold of her.
I think if you listened close enough
for long enough
you could just make out the sound
of those roots in those soles
lifting through the soil
sighing in the sunlight
and digging their way back into the darkness
with each and every step.
I’ve met people who are fire,
all flame and spark and the promise
of combustion.
Without fail and without doubt
I’ve been burned and boiled
and left with nothing but the residue
of the ash they left behind on my skin.
I’ve felt the breezes of people who are wind,
airy and light and always drifting.
They cool the soul and for a moment
you close your eyes and feel their
breath across your face but always,
always, open them sometime or another
to their absence.  They always,
always, blow away and you’re left
with tousled hair and the numbness where
they rested.
I think I am the water and I think I always
have been.  I go my own way and somehow
without knowing how, find my way through the
cracks and crevices, the grooves and holes
in the rocks that form around these
fragile hearts.
I think she is the earth and has roots
in her soles and leaves in her hair.
She curls her toes into the sand and
braces herself against the wind,
defiant against the flames
and holds tight to the world as it
spins beneath her.  We spin and only
she can feel it.
I think she has roots and her roots
need water and I am the water and always
have been and know and hold the secrets
to sinking beneath the soil
to give strength to the growth
that’s been waiting to come.
Some people are fire
and some are wind
but we are water and earth
and through the roots on her
feet and the leaves in her hair
she will drink me and absorb
all I have ever been.

I can hear the sound
of her footsteps
now.