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monstera-modd · 23 days ago

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Ultraluminary

DPxDC #7 DeadTired AU, also a Songfic

For a visual of what Im’a…trying to describe, here’s the link

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Tim was going to explode! His favorite singer Phantom, was coming to Gotham. He even made sure he got an extra ten hours of sleep, to prepare for the concert. Con was just as excited, and both of them (along with the whole of Young Justice) had scored pit passes to see Phantom live.

They arrived at the venue two hours early, just like they’d planned. Technically, it was to get good spots at the front of the stage for all the performers… but let’s be real– Tim wanted to be as close to Phantom as physically possible.

The air buzzed with anticipation. The sky overhead was dimming toward dusk, and the venue lights flickered to life, casting golden beams across the crowd. People were jittery, loud, and booming with excitement. But Tim’s nerves felt different, he wasn’t just excited. He was wired, on edge, like something electric was coiled tight inside him.

His heartbeat had been climbing all day, not just from the adrenaline of the concert, but from the thought of seeing Phantom in person.

Hearing that voice live.

Seeing his smile.

Feeling whatever strange, magnetic pull that voice always had on him—but this time, face to face.

The first performer to hit the stage was Spectra. Her haunting voice swept over the crowd, quieting them instantly.

She opened with a slow, melancholic melody, her voice threading through the air like mist. Every note was bittersweet, aching with beauty. The kind of sound that curled around your ribs and squeezed.

Tim found himself holding his breath through parts of it, his heart beating in time with the hollow echo of her voice. He noticed Con quietly wiping at his eyes halfway through the second song, and honestly? Tim couldn’t blame him. Her music didn’t just tug at your heartstrings– it played them like a violin.

When Spectra’s set ended, the crowd clapped softly, reverently, as if afraid to break the spell she'd cast.

Tim exhaled, realizing he’d been gripping the barrier at the front without noticing. His palms were sweaty. He wasn’t even to the main event yet, and he already felt undone.

Then, all at once– Ember stormed the stage like lightning.

A thunderous chord split the air as her guitar roared to life, wild and electric. The speakers shook under the weight of her sound, each riff scorching through the air like fire made music. She didn’t just play– she owned the stage, strutting across it with the kind of effortless swagger that turned chaos into art.

The crowd exploded into motion, a tidal wave of movement crashing against the rhythm. Ember was a storm in leather and flame, her voice a howl of rebellion that wrapped around the crowd and refused to let go.

Cassie lost it completely.

She was shrieking the lyrics like they were gospel, arms in the air, hair flying as she headbanged and danced without a shred of self-consciousness. She grabbed Wally by the shoulders, shaking him with wild enthusiasm until he finally gave in and started jumping beside her, laughing.

“You don’t get it!” she shouted over the music, practically vibrating with joy. “She’s a legend! Ember was my entire villain era– LOOK AT HER!”

Wally grinned, eyes wide as he tried to keep up with her energy. “I am looking! I think I’m witnessing a religious experience!”

Cassie didn’t hear him. She was too busy air-guitaring along, eyes shining with awe every time Ember hit another screaming note. Her voice was fire, her presence pure magnetism– fierce, beautiful, untouchable.

Tim laughed, the sound half-swallowed by the crowd, but still warm. There was a buzz under his skin now– a steady, pulsing anticipation. Ember’s energy was contagious, but the real reason his pulse wouldn’t settle was because next… was Phantom.

As Ember’s final song hit its climax, she spun her guitar around her back in one smooth, defiant motion and strutted to center stage. Sweat glistened on her skin under the stage lights, her eyes blazing with the high of performance.

She raised her arms high and shouted into the mic, voice still crackling with adrenaline. “Y’ALL KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS!”

The crowd erupted, deafening.

“GOTHAM CITY! MAKE SOME NOISE FOR THE ONE! THE ONLY! PHANTOM!”

The lights cut out in an instant. A thin curtain dropped from the ceiling, casting the stage in silhouette.

The cheering reached a fever pitch– screams, stomps, whistles, cries of “WE LOVE YOU!” echoing into the darkness. It was pure chaos, pure electricity.

And Tim… Tim’s breath caught.

In the suspended hush between the cheers and whatever came next, his heart thundered in his chest. That tiny pause felt like it stretched forever, holding him still in its grip.

Then– A breath through a microphone.

The sound alone sent a shiver down Tim’s spine, sharp and sudden, like the world itself had inhaled with him.

The crowd fell quiet.

“I'm the light, every night in your world…”

That voice.

It hit him like gravity. Smooth and silken, wrapped in a depth of emotion that settled in his bones and pulled tight around his chest like a velvet ribbon. There was something rich and haunting in it– rising and falling like the tide, aching and beautiful in every syllable.

Tim’s heart clenched. He’d never heard anything like it.

A soft glow began to bloom on the stage, a wash of blue light illuminating a figure behind the curtain– silhouetted, ethereal.

“Are you ready to watch me be leg-en-dary?”

The figure moved, arm raised high in a bold, elegant pose– singing into what looked like a microphone.

“'Cause I'm… ultra-luminary.”

With a sweep across his body, the veils dropped– timed perfectly with the thrum of the first beat. Light cascaded like a waterfall, revealing Phantom in full.

And Tim forgot how to breathe.

Phantom smirked beneath lashes dusted in glitter that shimmered like stardust, casting celestial sparks around his vivid green eyes. His outfit shimmered in deep hues of blues, indigos, and rich violets that rippled like a galaxy draped across his skin. Every movement sent his fabric trailing behind him in waves, and the very air seemed to warp around his presence.

Tim was spellbound…completely, hopelessly frozen. So close. He was so close. If he just reached out–

A sudden push from the crowd knocked him forward, shoving him straight to the front of the T-shaped stage. The pulse of bass echoed in his ribs, but all he could see was Phantom.

Phantom tossed the fake microphone into the audience with a grin, striding confidently down the extended runway. His steps matched the beat, his hands swinging with graceful intention.

“You wish on me in my glitter light, First star you see tonight…”

He pointed toward the distant horizon, foot dragging gently along the stage with the melody’s pull, like painting light with movement.

“So wish away– wish with all your might Upon this radiant sight.”

Phantom threw his head back in a sweeping motion, then spun in a dazzling flare of color. His hands sparked with glowing light, and as he dropped smoothly to the stage floor, brilliant beams burst outward from his fingertips, piercing the blue atmosphere with radiant streaks of pink and orange.

The audience screamed in delight, but Tim could barely hear it. The world had narrowed down to this: light, sound, color… and him.

“The stars Ignite, They flame from dust Born out of gravity and force– they combust…”

The beat dropped into a low, pulsing thrum that vibrated through the floor and straight into Tim’s chest. His breath caught, his heart pounding in time with the rhythm, pupils blown wide as Phantom moved closer.

Swaying. Flowing. Every step like a ripple through liquid light.

Phantom swept down the strip with effortless grace, closing the distance, and Tim’s whole body leaned forward, drawn like a moth to flame.

He stopped right at the edge of the stage.

Right in front of him.

Tim looked up, caught in the gravitational pull of him, and the world narrowed down to Phantom’s silhouette bathed in starlight.

Backup dancers rose seamlessly from hidden platforms, flanking him with perfectly synchronized movements, their voices layering in sweet, high harmonies.

“And though they try…in ri-val-ry They’ll never shine bright as me.”

The lights suddenly went black.

Tim's breath hitched.

Phantom held the final note, arms rising in slow reverence… and then, with a single, dramatic throw downward, the stage exploded into blinding bursts of white, pink, and yellow, washing the entire stadium in light.

His outfit shimmered again, colors shifting, reflecting the explosion like a living aurora. He had become a supernova incarnate.

“I’m the light every night in your world– Eh”

Phantom pointed directly into the crowd, his body bending down low before rising back up in a fluid arc, hips rolling effortlessly as he danced across the stage’s edge. The backup dancers followed him like orbiting satellites, flawless and entranced.

And for a heartbeat, Tim could swear Phantom’s eyes locked onto his.

His breath hitched –cheeks flushing hot– and somewhere behind him, he faintly heard Conner’s laugh, low and teasing.

But he couldn’t look away.

“You revel in the glory of my beau–ty”

Phantom shimmered, dragging one hand slowly across his face, fingers trailing like liquid light. His eyes flared brighter, almost glowing. Then he raised his leg in a dramatic kick forward, stepping into a powerful pose, dragging his hand up the length of his own body.

Tim’s gaze followed every motion, helplessly caught in the slow, sensuous gravity of it.

This… this being wasn’t just a performer.

He was a celestial event.

A deity wrapped in stardust and soundwaves. And Tim…Tim would kneel, would offer up his soul if it meant getting closer.

To feel.

To hold.

To touch.

“Ya ready to watch me be le-gen-dary?

'Cause I'm ultra-lumi-nary.”

Phantom spun around, and the screen behind him lit up, catching the motion in perfect clarity. Even with his back to the crowd –back to Tim– the camera zoomed in on his face, capturing the sly smirk and the teasing shrug he tossed at the lens.

The audience screamed.

And then…he launched.

Phantom shot upward, soaring off the stage like a burst of cosmic light. His laughter rang out above the beat, bright and joyful, as he twirled mid-air arms spread wide, trailing glittering streaks behind him.

He danced across the open sky like a star set free, and Tim… Tim was falling.

“Whoa… Wel-come to Lu-na-ria Whoa… So Spec-ta-cularia”

Many more screens lit up all around the stadium, like constellations blinking into existence. Each one shimmered with Phantom’s dazzling smile as he flew along the outer walls, trailing sparklers in his wake like a rocket launching into space.

“Whoa… Super Sin-gu-lary”

Phantom soared in a graceful arc, then descended slowly toward center stage, lowered on a hidden platform. He didn’t miss a beat– didn’t stumble, didn’t even breathe wrong. He glided, slipping effortlessly into the next movement. Arms raised in a dramatic flex toward the crowd, then swept high above his head before cascading low in a fluid ripple through his torso.

With one hand on his hip, he pointed out to the chaotic, euphoric sea of fans in every direction. Then he spun his hand in a loop, pressing it against his chest and crossing both arms into an X, winking playfully at the nearest camera.

“‘Cause I’m so Very Very

Extra-ordi-naria”

The crowd screamed, a tidal wave of sound crashing into the stage. Tim felt dizzy from the sheer intensity of it all.The lights, the music, the energy thrumming in his bones like a second heartbeat. His fingers curled against the barricade in front of him, clutching it like an anchor.

There was a brief pause in the music as a spotlight swept to the side stage.

A DJ stood behind a set of turntables, bathed in golden light. He wore a red beanie and a dark blue button-down shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. Short dreadlocks framed his face, warm-toned skin catching hints of the light display still strobing in blues, pinks, and yellows.

One hand pressed a headphone to his ear, the other flicking and spinning expertly across the console, each movement subtle but confident, shaping the entire pulse of the show with flicks of his wrist and taps of his fingers.

Tim barely noticed him.

But Wally? Wally definitely did.

Even now, with the DJ’s booth dimming again as the spotlight faded, Wally’s eyes lingered on that corner of the stage, a quiet grin on his lips.

Tim would’ve teased him– if he could look away from Phantom long enough to form a coherent sentence.

“The cosmic shine of my fine display

Can turn the Night to Day”

The lights slowly shifted, bleeding from galactic neons into soft gradients of peach and rose gold, mimicking the glow of a rising sun. Phantom ascended with it, higher than before, bathed in the morning light. His silhouette floated in a swirl of lavender, white, and the faintest dusting of orange; like sunrise painted into motion.

“I hear they say that the Milky Way Can't help but envy me”

He twirled in slow, lazy circles, each movement dripping with confidence, every step and flick of his fingers divine. He held his hand out in a dramatic flourish, head bobbing with a lidded gaze and a smug, dazzling grin that made Tim’s stomach twist with heat.

That grin could end empires.

And then Phantom spun –faster, brighter– arms thrown wide as he rose even higher, a glowing white light rising with him like the first star of a brand new dawn.

Tim felt breathless.

Completely and utterly wrecked.

“I am the Brigh-test Star

Superb Spec-tacular…”

Phantom tilted backward… then suddenly dropped.

It was like a wire snapped. A high note rang out –sharp, jarring– and then nothing.

The music vanished. The lights blinked out.

For a moment, the stadium was swallowed in silence.

Gasps echoed from every direction. Uneasy murmurs swept through the crowd like a rising tide.

And then, a dim green glow flickered to life on the stage.

Phantom was kneeling, bowed low, hands braced on the floor like he was in mourning or prayer. His freckles shimmered faintly in the dark, barely illuminating the sorrow carved into his face.

A low beat began to thrum again– soft, slow, like a heartbeat pulled from the wreckage of grief.

“It was a desert on the Moon... When… We... Ar-rived

Gathering all of my tears, heart-break and sighs”

Tim’s breath hitched.

His chest clenched tight as Phantom lifted his head, glowing green tears streaking down his cheeks. They slipped into his cupped palms, forming a soft, shimmering puddle –grief made visible, grief made beautiful– until the tears began to rise, floating gently into the air.

They curled upward in spirals, slow and reverent, trailing like stardust through the air.

And Phantom rose with them.

He didn’t move like a performer anymore… he moved like a spirit in mourning, following the path of his sorrow through the stars.

“Tuck made a potion Ignite and Tur-ned the Night

To a Ra-diant City of Light”

The tears –no, the galaxy– shifted into swirling hues of color: pinks, purples, blues, golds. They danced in graceful spins and turns above the audience, encircling Phantom in a spiral of light. He hung at the center of it, delicate and radiant, like the eye of a sorrow-born nebula.

Tim could hardly breathe.

Around him, he heard sniffles…quiet gasps, soft sobs, people trying to hold it in and failing. And he wasn’t any better.

His eyes stung, vision blurring through tears he hadn’t even realized were falling. His cheeks were damp, catching the colored lights and reflecting them like glass. He hiccuped –sharp, involuntary– and clenched his jaw to keep another from slipping out. His whole body trembled, shoulders shaking as he held himself together by threads.

And still, Phantom rose.

“From tears I Rise!

I Rise!”

From the center of that luminous constellation, Phantom surged into motion, trailing light behind him like a comet’s tail. He streaked across the stage, over the crowd, a radiant streak of motion and color and sorrow reborn.

The crowd’s voices rose with him– soft at first, then louder, catching the echo of his words like a lifeline.

Tim looked up, eyes swollen and burning, heart wide open and cracked down the middle. Phantom was a force of nature, a miracle.

He was the ache in Tim’s chest made manifest, wrapped in starlight.

“I’m the light every night in your world– Eh

You revel in the glory of my beau–ty”

Phantom landed back on stage with effortless grace, dancers surrounding him in synchronized motion. Behind him, the jumbo screen projected every perfect step, every flick of his hands, every breathtaking close-up of his face.

Tim had been jostled back a few rows during the crowd’s earlier rush, but he barely noticed. His body moved on autopilot, weaving between people with numb determination until he found his spot again– right where he started.

Then he looked up.

And his heart stopped.

“Ya ready to watch me be le-gen-dary?

'Cause I'm ultra-lumi-nary.”

As Phantom drew out the last word, he raised his arm and pointed directly into the crowd.

Directly at Tim.

Their eyes locked, and the world around them faded.

A slow, knowing grin curved Phantom’s lips as he began descending down the stage again, hips swaying, steps fluid, rhythmic. The chorus echoed behind him, voices and lights swelling in tandem– but Phantom only had eyes for him.

“So Spec-tacularia”

The grin widened when he caught sight of Tim’s face– completely stunned, flushed, eyes wide like he’d been struck by lightning.

“Whoa… Super Singulary”

Phantom stopped at the edge of the stage, just a few feet above him.

Tim stared up, breath held tight in his lungs. His heart was a thunderclap, pounding so loud it nearly drowned the music.

And then Phantom leaned down –slow, smooth, like a secret unfurling– and reached out.

Fingertips brushed under Tim’s chin, tilting it gently upward.

The touch was featherlight, reverent, like he’d been waiting for this.

“‘Cause I’m so Very Very

Extra-ordi-naria”

The last note rang out, echoing into stillness.

But Phantom didn’t let go.

For a second, it was just them. Stage lights casting halos. Phantom’s fingers still resting beneath Tim’s chin, eyes soft and warm now– softer than they’d ever been in the performance. Almost fond.

A small, tilted smile curled on his lips. “Star-struck, baby?”

Tim choked on a breath and nodded, couldn’t even pretend to be smooth about it. He was red-faced and trembling and absolutely wrecked. He followed the movement of Phantom’s hand as he let go and stepped back, body still humming from the brief contact.

The crowd roared, but Tim barely heard it over the racing beat of his own pulse.

Phantom turned with a dazzling flourish, arms stretched wide to the audience. “Thank you for having me, Gotham City!”

The stadium erupted into thunderous applause.

“And let’s give a big thanks to my lovely openers– Spectra and Ember!”

The two women stepped forward with elegant bows, basking in the crowd’s adoration. Phantom slung an arm around them easily, still glittering in the spotlight.

Tim just stood there.

Still.

Dazed.

That touch –that smile, that look– it hadn’t been part of the show. It couldn’t have been.

He could still feel it. Right there on his chin. Like fire and electricity wrapped in a ghost’s kiss.

Phantom glanced back once more before leaving the stage– eyes finding his with precision.

Another smirk.

Brighter than starlight.

“Bye, baby~.”

And then he was gone.

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I feel like I was typing the same sentence over and over again 🫠

But this was fun! I’ve never done a song fic before and let me tell you it was… an experience, that honestly took me like a week to finish ✊🏼

It's also now posted on my AO3!

#pop Star Danny Phantom #danny phantom #danny fenton #dpxdc #tim drake #conner kent #wally west #Cassie #tucker foley #ember mclain #penelope spectra #Tim is smitten 😏#Danny is a tease #dead tired #Tucker x Wally? perhaps #i kinda like it

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strwberrybils · 3 months ago

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FABLE AND TRUTH | intro & playlist.

୧ ‧₊˚ love was the law & religion was taught.... ↳ summary: you had always been raised on being poise, feminine, classy. but what was most important to your family was your religion— and it had embroidered itself into your daily life. but when it’s time to pick between feelings and faith, which will you choose? pairings & aus. billie eilish x fem!reader warnings. religious backgrounds & guilt | mature language | sexual content | substance use author's note. chapter one will be posted right after this, this is just a little intro!

playlist: 1. fable, gigi perez 2. the gold, phoebe bridgers 3. your best american girl, mistki 4. love me not, ravyn lenae 5. sailor song, gigi perez 6. creep, radiohead 7. puppet, tyler the creator 8. girls, girl in red 9. good luck, babe!, chappell roan 10. never be like you, flume

you woke up every morning to the soft hum of the alarm on your phone, its subtle vibration rattling on your wooden nightstand. sunlight seeped through the thin curtains, painting streaks of gold across your small dorm room. you’d wake up, make your bed, and slither onto your desk chair to pray. that’s how all your dawns and dusks were spent, night and day, everything had to fall into a routine.

your Bible sat on the corner of your desk, bookmarked and worn from countless mornings spent reading the same verses over and over, letting their memorized words settle into your heart like an old friend.

faith was the thread that tied your life together. it was in the way you prayed before meals, even in the bustling cafeteria where no one else bothered to bow their heads, or on the way to class, while people scrolled on their phones and listened to music.

faith had been the only thing you could take refuge in. it was everywhere, it was even in your playlists, full of soft gospel tunes and acoustic worship songs. it was in how you spoke— gentle, careful, always trying to reflect the grace you believed in. but it wasn’t easy. not even a little bit.

you had a quiet life, one defined by structure and conviction. classes, study groups, sunday services, and the occasional volunteer shift at the community center. you never complained, though. this was the life you wanted— or at least the one you believed you should have. being a good person, a good christian, meant staying on the narrow path, even when it felt like the world was pulling you in a dozen different directions.

and you felt like it was what shaped you, your thoughts, actions– everything. it felt good to have a modest mindset, always giving to others, being sweet and gentle-hearted, and it didn’t bother you that you hadn’t experienced everything that others had. you always focused on higher things, like your future, your well-being, and of course, your relationship with God.

then there was emma. your best friend, your opposite in every conceivable way. emma was wild, free-spirited, and unafraid of anything or anyone. her laughter echoed down the hallways, loud and unfiltered, the kind that made people stop and turn and whisper to others around her, but she never cared.

she was the type to dance on tables at parties, to flirt shamelessly with anyone she found remotely attractive, to live every second as if it were her last. she’d drag you along to all her adventures, insisting that you needed to "loosen up" and "have fun for once."

and sometimes you wanted to. sometimes, when you watched emma throw her head back in carefree laughter or saw the way she lit up a room without even trying, you felt the smallest pang of envy. you wanted to be like her, to let go of the weight you carried and just live. but every time you tried, something stopped you. a voice in the back of your mind, a knot in your stomach, the ever-present reminder of who you were supposed to be.

the struggle wasn’t just about faith, though. it was also about the questions you didn’t have answers to. questions about yourself, about your identity, about the things you felt but couldn’t bring yourself to say out loud. you’d grown up hearing that love was sacred, that it was meant to be between a man and a woman, that anything else was forbidden. but what about the nights when your thoughts wandered, when you felt things you couldn’t explain? what about the way your heart raced around certain people, the way your cheeks flushed at the slightest touch or glance?

it was a constant push and pull, a war within yourself that you couldn’t escape. you wanted to be true to your faith, to the values that had been instilled in you since you were a child. but you also wanted to understand yourself, to figure out what it meant to be you without the fear of judgment or condemnation. it felt impossible to reconcile the two, like you were being asked to choose between the life you’d always known and the freedom you secretly craved.

emma didn’t know. not about the questions, not about the doubts, not about the quiet nights spent crying into your pillow, begging god for clarity. she’d never understand. how could she? emma’s world was black and white, filled with sharp lines and bold colors, while yours was a sea of gray. she loved you, of course. she’d be the first to defend you against anyone who dared to say a bad word about you. but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell her. you couldn’t bring yourself to tell anyone.

so you carried it alone. the weight of your faith, your doubts, your fears. you buried them beneath layers of prayer and routine, hoping that one day, the answers would come. but deep down, you weren’t sure if they ever would. and as much as you hated to admit it, a part of you was terrified of what those answers might be.

send an ask to be added to my taglist !!

#‧₊˚✩ — 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓��𝐒!#billie eilish #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish smut #billie eilish x female reader #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish x you #billie eilish fic #billie eilish imagine #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish series #billie eilish oneshot #billie eilish imagines

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mimi-0007 · 1 year ago

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FATHER & SON: James Earl Jones with his Father Robert Earl Jones on Stage in the 1962 Production "Moon on a Rainbow Shawl."

Robert Earl Jones (February 3, 1910 – September 7, 2006), sometimes credited as Earl Jones, was an American actor and professional boxer. One of the first prominent Black film stars, Jones was a living link with the Harlem Renaissance of the 1920s and 1930s, having worked with Langston Hughes early in his career.

Jones was best known for his leading roles in films such as Lying Lips (1939) and later in his career for supporting roles in films such as The Sting (1973), Trading Places (1983), The Cotton Club (1984), and Witness (1985).

Jones was born in northwestern Mississippi; the specific location is unclear as some sources indicate Senatobia, while others suggest nearby Coldwater. He left school at an early age to work as a sharecropper to help his family. He later became a prizefighter. Under the name "Battling Bill Stovall", he was a sparring partner of Joe Louis.

Jones became interested in theater after he moved to Chicago, as one of the thousands leaving the South in the Great Migration. He moved on to New York by the 1930s. He worked with young people in the Works Progress Administration, the largest New Deal agency, through which he met Langston Hughes, a young poet and playwright. Hughes cast him in his 1938 play, Don't You Want to Be Free?.

Jones also entered the film business, appearing in more than twenty films. His film career started with the leading role of a detective in the 1939 race film Lying Lips, written and directed by Oscar Micheaux, and Jones made his next screen appearance in Micheaux's The Notorious Elinor Lee (1940). Jones acted mostly in crime movies and dramas after that, with such highlights as Wild River (1960) and One Potato, Two Potato (1964). In the Oscar-winning 1973 film The Sting, he played Luther Coleman, an aging grifter whose con is requited with murder leading to the eponymous "sting". In the later 20th century, Jones appeared in several other noted films: Trading Places (1983) and Witness (1985).

Toward the end of his life, Jones was noted for his stage portrayal of Creon in The Gospel at Colonus (1988), a black musical version of the Oedipus legend. He also appeared in episodes of the long-running TV shows Lou Grant and Kojak. One of his last stage roles was in a 1991 Broadway production of Mule Bone by Hughes and Zora Neale Hurston, another important writer of the Harlem Renaissance. His last film was Rain Without Thunder (1993).

Although blacklisted by the House Un-American Activities Committee in the 1950s due to involvement with leftist groups, Jones was ultimately honored with a lifetime achievement award by the U.S. National Black Theatre Festival.

Jones was married three times. As a young man, he married Ruth Connolly (died 1986) in 1929; they had a son, James Earl Jones. Jones and Connolly separated before James was born in 1931, and the couple divorced in 1933. Jones did not come to know his son until the mid-1950s. He adopted a second son, Matthew Earl Jones. Jones died on September 7, 2006, in Englewood, New Jersey, from natural causes at age 96.

THEATRE

1945 The Hasty Heart (Blossom) Hudson Theatre, Broadway

1945 Strange Fruit (Henry) McIntosh NY theater production

1948 Volpone (Commendatori) City Center

1948 Set My People Free (Ned Bennett) Hudson Theatre, Broadway

1949 Caesar and Cleopatra (Nubian Slave) National Theatre, Broadway

1952 Fancy Meeting You Again (Second Nubian) Royale Theatre, Broadway

1956 Mister Johnson (Moma) Martin Beck Theater, Broadway

1962 Infidel Caesar (Soldier) Music Box Theater, Broadway

1962 The Moon Besieged (Shields Green) Lyceum Theatre, Broadway

1962 Moon on a Rainbow Shawl (Charlie Adams) East 11th Street Theatre, New York

1968 More Stately Mansions (Cato) Broadhurst Theatre, Broadway

1975 All God's Chillun Got Wings (Street Person) Circle in the Square Theatre, Broadway

1975 Death of a Salesman (Charley)

1977 Unexpected Guests (Man) Little Theatre, Broadway

1988 The Gospel at Colonus (Creon) Lunt-Fontanne Theatre, Broadway

1991 Mule Bone (Willie Lewis) Ethel Barrymore Theatre, Broadway

FILMS

1939 Lying Lips (Detective Wenzer )

1940 The Notorious Elinor Lee (Benny Blue)

1959 Odds Against Tomorrow (Club Employee uncredited)

1960 Wild River (Sam Johnson uncredited)

1960 The Secret of the Purple Reef (Tobias)

1964 Terror in the City (Farmer)

1964 One Potato, Two Potato (William Richards)

1968 Hang 'Em High

1971 Mississippi Summer (Performer)

1973 The Sting (Luther Coleman)

1974 Cockfighter (Buford)

1977 Proof of the Man (Wilshire Hayward )

1982 Cold River (The Trapper)

1983 Trading Places (Attendant)

1983 Sleepaway Camp (Ben)

1984 The Cotton Club (Stage Door Joe)

1984 Billions for Boris (Grandaddy)

1985 Witness (Custodian)

1988 Starlight: A Musical Movie (Joe)

1990 Maniac Cop 2 (Harry)

1993 Rain Without Thunder (Old Lawyer)

TELEVISION

1964 The Defenders (Joe Dean) Episode: The Brother Killers

1976 Kojak (Judge) Episode: Where to Go if you Have Nowhere to Go?

1977 The Displaced Person (Astor) Television movie

1978 Lou Grant (Earl Humphrey) Episode: Renewal

1979 Jennifer's Journey (Reuven )Television movie

1980 Oye Ollie (Performer) Television series

1981 The Sophisticated Gents (Big Ralph Joplin) 3 episodes

1982 One Life to Live

1985 Great Performances (Creon) Episode: The Gospel at Colonus

1990 True Blue (Performer) Episode: Blue Monday

#james earl jones #black tumblr #black literature #black community #black excellence #blackexcellence365 #actor #robert earl jones #stage actor

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yermes · 5 months ago

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We are stardust 💫

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Pick a meme

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Disclaimer: please take what I say with a grain of salt and not as the gospel. I just want to share some ideas of practicing and giving advice using the medium as often as I can with school, work, and my own personal studies and practice. But I am working on sharing my notes soon so that will be exciting! Liking and sharing does a lot 🥰

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Socials: My Socials ☾

(Links aren’t working lol check pinned)

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The cards

Bismuth Bi 83

Perfectly yourself with out and serious qualities, while we were made on this world to be perfectly simple to live, to dream, to eat sleep and believe in things far greater than our comprehension, we are thrusted into the world of mundane human politics. If I were to dabble in any affairs how I wish to dabble in those of angels whose mysteries and treaties venture far from our own comprehension. Keep living, as you come.

Iodine I 53

To live in a fluid state, human beings are river which are gently shaped by the divine nature which inhibit within us. We are shaped by things much greater than us and we are merely reflections of such. We take on many properties some so unbelievably divine and so unbelievably primal, yet those coexist and run together hand in hand.

Rhenium Re 75

What is rarer than recognizing yourself as something beyond your mortal coils. Something so beautiful and layered for our existence is layered moving into a divine center which propagates the rest of our being. Like a rose. Affected by the flows of time and the fluid nature of living, be calm and recognize what you are.

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Extras:

Story/vent: ILY

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nameless-jamie · 3 months ago

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TARTT'S CORNER - Jamie Tartt x Y/N

Masterlist - Next Chapter

Chapter 1: Behind the Mic

The low hum of Richmond’s afternoon buzzed softly in the background as Y/N Y/L/N sat at her desk, scrolling through an endless stream of emails and social media notifications. Her office, nestled in a cozy corner of her flat, was her sanctuary. Posters of legendary football players adorned the walls, alongside photographs of AFC Richmond—team celebrations, training snapshots, and candid moments she’d captured herself. Her desk was a battlefield of football magazines, notebooks filled with scribbles, and stray memory cards she kept promising herself to organize. And in the center of it all was her pride and joy: the microphone that had turned her dreams into reality.

Her podcast, Striker’s Corner, had started as a passion project. Growing up, she’d always been the odd one out in her family—the only one obsessed with the beautiful game. While her siblings rolled their eyes at match replays and tactical breakdowns, Y/N would be glued to the TV, scribbling notes about formations and players’ movements. Football wasn’t just a sport to her; it was a symphony of strategy, athleticism, and raw emotion. And somehow, against all odds, she’d turned that obsession into a career.

The podcast’s growth had been exponential, and Y/N still struggled to wrap her head around it. What had started as casual discussions with friends about matches had spiraled into something much bigger. Now, her episodes were downloaded by thousands of listeners across the globe. Fans of AFC Richmond, in particular, had become her most loyal audience, often quoting her takes on players and matches as if they were gospel. It was surreal, exhilarating, and occasionally terrifying.

“You’ve really made something of yourself, haven’t you?” Keeley Jones’ voice rang out, pulling Y/N out of her thoughts. She glanced up to see her friend leaning against the doorframe, a bright smile lighting up her face.

“Keeley! How did you get in here?” Y/N asked, startled but pleased to see her. Keeley’s visits were always a whirlwind of energy and positivity.

“Oh, your neighbor let me in,” Keeley replied with a wave of her hand, as if that were the most normal thing in the world. “I brought muffins!” She held up a small paper bag triumphantly before plopping herself onto Y/N’s worn-out sofa.

“You’re an angel,” Y/N said, reaching for the bag and taking out a blueberry muffin. “But seriously, what brings you here? Don’t you have, like, a million PR crises to handle?”

Keeley shrugged, her smile turning mischievous. “I wanted to pitch you an idea. And I thought it’d be better to do it in person. You’re harder to pin down than Roy after a loss.”

Y/N laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment. What’s the pitch?”

Keeley’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “A podcast series featuring AFC Richmond players. Like, a deep dive into their lives on and off the pitch. Fans love that kind of personal connection, and who better to do it than you?”

Y/N’s smile faltered slightly. “Keeley, that’s a great idea, but… I don’t know. Interviewing players can be tricky. They’re not always open to talking, especially about personal stuff.”

“That’s where I come in!” Keeley said, sitting up straighter. “I’ve already spoken to some of them, and they’re on board. Sam, Dani, Isaac—even Roy agreed to do it. Though, to be fair, I think he just grunted something that vaguely sounded like ‘fine.’”

Y/N chuckled. “Roy Kent on a podcast? That’ll be… interesting.”

“Exactly! And think about it, Y/N. Your podcast is already huge, but this could take it to the next level. Plus, you’re brilliant at getting people to open up. Remember when you had that interview with that retired coach who swore he’d never talk to the media again?”

Y/N nodded, a small smile creeping onto her face. She did have a knack for breaking down walls, but this felt different. It wasn’t just about one player; it was about a whole team.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “I’ll think about it. But I’m not promising anything.”

Keeley clapped her hands together. “That’s all I ask! And, to sweeten the deal, your final guest could be Jamie Tartt.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Jamie Tartt? The Jamie Tartt? Keeley, he’s… well, he’s Jamie Tartt.”

Keeley tilted her head. “And what does that mean?”

“You know,” Y/N said, gesturing vaguely. “He’s… cocky. Arrogant. Kind of a pain in the ass, from what I’ve heard.”

“Oh, he’s not that bad,” Keeley said with a laugh. “He’s grown a lot since those days. Trust me, there’s more to Jamie than meets the eye. And I think you’re the perfect person to show that side of him.”

Y/N sighed, leaning back in her chair. “I’ll admit, he’d be an interesting guest. But getting him to agree…”

“Leave that to me,” Keeley said confidently. “Just say yes, and I’ll handle the rest.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Fine. But if he storms out mid-interview, I’m blaming you.”

Keeley grinned. “Deal. Now, let’s plan this thing!”

Sam Obisanya’s episode was met with overwhelming enthusiasm—his charm and heartfelt anecdotes about his upbringing in Nigeria left listeners both laughing and tearing up. Dani Rojas’ episode became an instant fan favorite, his boundless energy and love for life shining through every word. Even Roy Kent’s gruff, no-nonsense interview managed to captivate the audience, with fans praising Y/N’s ability to get him to reveal snippets of vulnerability amidst his characteristic grumbles. Social media was abuzz with clips, memes, and threads dissecting every episode. But there was one name that had fans on the edge of their seats: Jamie Tartt.

The anticipation was palpable. Messages flooded Y/N’s inbox daily, demanding updates on when Jamie’s episode would air. Threads speculating about what he might say—or whether he’d even agree to do it—dominated fan forums. Richmond fans were eager to see how Y/N would handle the enigmatic, often controversial striker. Jamie Tartt wasn’t just a footballer; he was a personality, someone who sparked equal parts admiration and exasperation. And now, he was next in line for Striker’s Corner.

In the bustling halls of Nelson Road, Keeley Jones was on a mission. Clad in a vibrant pink blazer that seemed to match her fiery determination, she sped through the corridors, heels clicking against the tiled floor. Spotting Jamie near the gym, she waved him down.

“Jamie! Wait up!”

Jamie Tartt, in the middle of unwrapping a protein bar, looked up with mild annoyance. “What now, Keeley?” he drawled, though the faintest hint of a smirk tugged at his lips.

Keeley didn’t waste time. “I need you to do Y/N’s podcast. It’s for Striker’s Corner. The fans are dying for it!”

Jamie groaned, tossing the protein bar wrapper into a nearby bin with the precision of someone used to hitting targets. “Keeley, you know I don’t do media. They twist your words, make you look like a right knob.”

“This isn’t like that,” Keeley insisted, crossing her arms. “Y/N’s different. She actually cares about telling the real story. And you’ve seen how much the fans love this series! They want to hear from you.”

Jamie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, so they can talk shite about me in the comments after.”

Keeley stepped closer, her tone softening. “Come on, Jamie. It’s not like that anymore. You’ve worked so hard to change people’s perceptions of you. This is your chance to show them who you really are.”

He hesitated, the playful smirk fading into something more guarded. “I dunno, Keeley. Media and me don’t mix.”

Keeley reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “Do it for me, then. Please? Y/N’s really good at this, and I know she’ll make it worth your while.”

Jamie let out a dramatic sigh, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. “Fine. But don’t expect me to be all lovey-dovey or whatever. I’ll do it, but on my terms.”

Keeley beamed. “Thank you! You won’t regret this, I promise.”

As she walked away, satisfied, Jamie leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. His mind was already at work, devising a plan to make this podcast as unbearable as possible. If Keeley wanted him to play nice, she had another thing coming.

“Let’s see how she handles ‘prick Jamie,’” he thought, a sly grin forming. He imagined answering every question with cocky one-liners, deflecting serious topics, and maybe even throwing in a comment or two to challenge Y/N’s football knowledge. If the fans wanted drama, he’d give it to them. And maybe—just maybe—he’d finally get people to leave him alone about interviews for good.

Meanwhile, back in her flat, Y/N was oblivious to the storm brewing. She sat cross-legged on the sofa, flipping through her notes for the umpteenth time. Keeley’s earlier pep talk had helped calm her nerves slightly, but the thought of interviewing Jamie Tartt still loomed large in her mind.

“He’ll come around,” Keeley had assured her before leaving. “Just be yourself, and he’ll be eating out of the palm of your hand.”

Y/N wasn’t so sure. But one thing was certain: the fans were counting on her, and she wasn’t about to let them—or herself—down.

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #ted lasso #jamie tartt imagine #roy kent #sam obisanya #ted lasso show #afc richmond #tartts corner

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idylls-of-the-divine-romance · 7 months ago

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Mean and violent Christians drive me almost insane. "What if I punch your face for Jesus?"

SERIOUSLY!? You think Jesus of Nazareth, the nonviolent Jewish Messiah who was beat and scourged and whipped and killed on a humiliating torture device by a violent relgio-political mob wants you to punch someone in the face for religio-political reasons and then blame HIM for it!? Do you even hear yourself!!!

You. Conquer. Thru. Self. Sacrifice. You're. Exalted. Thru. Humble. Submission. THIS IS THE ENTIRE GOSPEL!!!! That the King of the World came to earth to conquer oppressive powers but giving up his life! That his crucifixion was his enthronement!! And that his followers would then lead humanity in "ruling and reigning" by serving and giving their lives in other-centered life-giving love for each other and for humanity and for God!!!

What happened to us???

#this crap makes me very mad #christian love #something to meditate on #christianity #christian #faith #faith in jesus #jesus christ #bible scripture #bible #keep the faith #jesus #progressive christianity #progressive christian #christblr #christian blog #christian faith #christian tumblr #god is love

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whencyclopedia · 6 months ago

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Sermon on the Mount

The Sermon on the Mount in the Gospel of Matthew (chapters 5, 6, and 7) became a foundational element of the religion of Christianity. The sermon is based on the traditions of Judaism and the Law of Moses, but with added interpretations of the teachings of Jesus of Nazareth. Matthew placed it at the beginning of Jesus' ministry, and its themes continued throughout the gospel.

Sermon on the Mount

Carl Bloch (Public Domain)

Background & Setting for Matthew

Like the other gospels, there are no internal dates in Matthew. The 2nd-century Church Fathers placed Matthew as the first gospel in the New Testament, but we know that Mark was the earliest, c. 70 CE or beyond. Matthew (c. 85 CE) and Luke (c. 95 CE) contained almost verbatim stories from Mark, so the consensus is that they had a written copy of Mark. The sermon is not in the Gospel of Mark. Scholars have concluded that Matthew and Luke had additional sources for Jesus beyond Mark, known as the "Q" source. It has not survived independently but was named "Q" for the German Quelle ("source") because German Bible scholars were the first to categorize these additional teachings. Luke had a similar version, in his Sermon on the Plain.

The provenance for Matthew is understood to be Galilee. This is derived from several factors, one of which is that the gospel ends with the resurrected Jesus telling the disciples to go to Galilee and meet him there. He then appeared and commissioned them "to make disciples of all nations", the Gentiles (Matthew 28:19).

When the Romans destroyed Jerusalem and the Temple complex in 70 CE, some Jews, which may have included some Pharisees, survived by escaping the city and establishing formalized schools for the study of their scriptures now that the sacrifices in the Temple cult were no longer possible. Some of these schools were located in Galilee and centered in the synagogues. This became the beginning of what is known as Rabbinic Judaism over the next centuries.

Throughout Matthew's gospel, the vitriol against the Jews increased. His Jesus consistently taught against doing things the way the Jews do it in their synagogues. We have an image that Christians may have literally moved out of the synagogues and established their own version, which became the early churches.

Christians claimed that Jesus was the messiah predicted by the prophets in the final days. God would then establish his kingdom on earth. But as the decades passed, the kingdom was not manifest. Early Christianity rationalized this with the concept of parousia, or second appearance. Resurrected and exalted to heaven, at a future time, Jesus would return and fulfill everything the prophets had predicted. The overall purpose of the sermon was twofold:

to state that Christians have the correct understanding of the Laws of Moses as opposed to the Jews

to teach believers how to live in the interim while awaiting the return of Jesus.

#History #TheGospels #JesusChrist #Christianity

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mindfulldsliving · 3 months ago

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CFM - January 6-9: Understanding Doctrine and Covenants Section 1

This week’s focus is on the January 5–12 Come, Follow Me study of Doctrine and Covenants Section 1, also known as the Lord’s preface to His revelations. It emphasizes the themes of divine authority, repentance, and the Restoration. Key takeaways include: The Lord’s Voice: Why this section serves as the preface to modern-day revelation and its relevance for our time. Repentance and Obedience:…

#Application of gospel principles #Applying Come #Bible #Building faith through Come #Call to Repentance and Obedience #christ-centered living #Christianity #Come #Dispensationalism and Restoration #Divine authority in the Doctrine and Covenants #Doctrine and Covenants Section 1 #Encouraging gospel sharing with authenticity and love #Exploring chiasmus in Doctrine and Covenants Section 1 #faith #Follow Me #Follow Me January 5–12 #Follow Me lessons to everyday life #God #How Doctrine and Covenants Section 1 guides modern faith #Insights on prophetic counsel from Doctrine and Covenants Section 1 #Jesus #Latter-day Saint apologetics #Latter-day Saint scripture study #Mindful scripture study for Latter-day Saints #Modern-Day Revelation #Preparing for Christ’s Second Coming #Prophetic authority and the role of prophets #Prophetic guidance in modern times #Repentance and God’s mercy #Restoration of the Gospel

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hymnsofheresy · 1 year ago

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Recentering Christ in Christmas

(original post on my Instagram)

"Keep Christ in Christmas" is often lauded by reactionaries in their crusade in the so-called culture war. There is a fear amongst them that Jesus Christ can somehow be removed from the very essence of Christmas. And that the only way to "protect" Jesus is for the mainstream culture to be blatantly Christian and the corporate world to sell us a specifically religious Christmas.

Christians should not be concerned with such worldly matters. Capitalism and its systemic nature of greed, consumption, and waste should not be the center of our Christmas.

We should have no desire to align Jesus Christ with the worldly powers of capital. Rather, this is an encouragement for centering religious practice and embodiment.

It has become profoundly clear that more people are becoming disillusioned by capitalism. There has been a long critique of the festive consumerism that has been a part of Christmas for hundreds of years... and has only gotten more extreme in the past century. So consider this an invitation into the spiritual root of Christmas.

Let us talk about the birth of Jesus Christ. More specifically, recognizing the Christ that is all around us.

Christmas is not a story without suffering. Christmas is a story surrounded by darkness and despair.

The world Jesus was born into was far from ideal, both historically and mythologically. Christ was born from an unwed mother who was forcibly displaced along with her fiancé. The people of this land were living under the Roman occupation and were coerced into obeying the laws of this empire.

After being born, Christ was placed into a lowly manger, since the Virgin Mary and Saint Joseph were only able to take shelter along with the animals.

This is where God chose to be born.

Throughout the Gospel, Jesus identifies Himself as literally being the poor, the foreigner, the infirm, the prisoner, and the hungry. It is clear why Christ was born in that manger in destitution, and not amongst the wealthy who were happily aligned with the state.

The Logos (the pre-existent Jesus Christ) was intentional in where They would manifest themselves in this world.

When upon approaching the liturgical calendar, it is important to note that Advent and then Christmas mark the cycle of rebirth of Jesus Christ. For Christ is not born just once, but again and again perpetually.

This Advent and Christmas, I encourage you to look around you and seek out the Christ child (He is closer, and more relevant, than you might expect). Meditate on the True Peace that comes from Liberation and allow that Peace to be your guide. And find time to rest in the Hope of God's promise to us: we belong to Love.

#christmas

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mybeingthere · 1 year ago

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SISTER GERTRUDE MORGAN, 1900 - 1980, born in Alabama, USA.

“I guess my paintings spread the word; they represent something. They get me a living, of course, and help out the mission here … I am a missionary of Christ before I’m an artist. Give all the fame to some other artist. I work for the Lord. Now don’t forget to give Him credit.”

A street preacher who became an artist, poet, and musician, Sister Gertrude Morgan was guided throughout her life by visions from God. Her artistic talent was a conduit to express her religious fervor and illustrate her teachings. Self-taught, Morgan created artworks when the Spirit moved her, using found materials such as cardboard, window shades, wood, signs, and more. Her imaginative compositions often incorporated text to emphasize important themes or to cite Scripture verses. Later in her career after 1970, Morgan devoted the majority of her paintings to biblical scenes from the Book of Revelation, which focuses on the second coming of Christ. Her recurring imagery depicts the Book of Revelation’s theme of the New Jerusalem, which represents the Holy City for Christ’s followers and the fulfillment of all God’s promises. Morgan’s interpretations of this abstract, spiritual concept often include a large multistory building shown in cross section to reveal empty chambers and Christ preparing for His marriage to Sister Gertrude, as shown in New Jerusalem Court and Untitled (New Jerusalem). “And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, made ready as a bride adorned for her husband.”

Born on April 7, 1900, to a poor rural family in LaFayette, Morgan moved to New Orleans in 1939 to begin her missionary work as a singing street preacher and soon joined the Holiness and Sanctified denomination, a church where the services praised God through music and dancing. In the early 1940s, Morgan adopted the title “Sister” when she worked with two other street missionaries, Mother Margaret Parker and Sister Cora Williams. The three women built a chapel and opened a children’s shelter; the center closed down when it was destroyed by a hurricane in 1965. Morgan then moved to St. Bernard Parish where she became a nurse to a woman whose house later became Morgan’s Everlasting Gospel Mission.

– Vicki Phung Smith

https://www.juxtapoz.com/.../outsider-artist-gertrude.../

https://www.bridgeprojects.com/art.../sister-gertrude-morgan

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dnalt-d2 · 1 year ago

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I wasn't able to watch Quackity's stream just now but from what I'm getting, it's a really unfortunate development

Basically that Quackity is stepping away from the QSMP for a bit and leaving the Administration of it to other people due to fear for his personal safety, and this next part might be slightly unrelated, but it's something I've been kinda wanting to say for a bit, and this gives me a good chance to do it

I remember a lot of people wondering why Admins had to stay anonymous to the public and this sort of thing is why. If experienced streamers, who are used to dealing with this sort of thing, are going through this, imagine what could have happened to the Admins if people found out who they were

Like imagine we knew exactly who was behind the Code attacks that killed Bobby, Tallulah, or Dapper. You really think people wouldn't have dog-piled on them because they killed their favorite Egg?? Imagine people knew who Leo or Sunny's admins were during all their "drama." People were already crossing boundaries before they knew who the admins were, and I don't think it would have gone well if that information were out in the open at the time

To me, it didn't seem like a good idea to throw people who were inexperienced with this into the spotlight like that. And THIS is why. People are still dog-piling on anyone they think is the problem, and that isn't okay. Quackity just talked about how scared he was for his actual personal safety, and that's not okay. People get the smallest scrap of information and latch onto it like it's gospel, and things like this happen. It's why I haven't even made a post about some recent developments, because I know a lot of what's being spread is speculation, and I don't like to spread around things I don't have concrete information on. Maybe if CERTAIN things were more open, this all wouldn't have been as big a problem, but the fact that this is the end result kinda makes their privacy more understandable

Because this is the kind of thing it leads to. Everyone demands every bit of information, pressuring people to the point that they just want to do SOMETHING to get people off their backs even a little bit. As far as I know, Lea DID NOT mean to leak that kind of information, but she was being bombarded for information, and just tried to provide some evidence for what she was saying, and probably didn't realize that it could lead to this (That's if the information I have on that is correct, that she basically leaked a payment document that had Quackity's full legal name, and that's how people managed to track down his information. If this isn't correct, please let me know, I haven't seen enough information on it to verify 100%)

(And I wanna say that this isn't me excusing the fact that the Admins couldn't talk to each other or the CCs when it was relevant to the server. That sort of thing is a textbook manipulation tactic from bosses who want to take advantage of their workers and using the lack of information as a weapon to that end)

I said before that I NEVER expected concrete updates about everything, just hoped for acknowledgements that things were still happening at all. Because the fact that streamers are in the public eye doesn't mean everything they do needs to be public knowledge. People online love to criticize paparazzi for constantly bombarding celebrities and invading their personal lives, but this is starting to feel startlingly similar, and I don't like that. Yes, the people involved should have that information, but we should not

I really hope people manage to stay safe through all this, including Quackity and each and every Admin/Ex-Admin that's been at the center of this. There are some things going around them that I don't agree with, but that doesn't mean I wish harm on them for it. That's the magical thing about the internet. You can just not interact with people you don't agree with, and I really wish some people would remember that. Especially over on Twitter. Because Holy Shit

Anyways, that's about all I have for now, probably won't be too active for a bit still because of IRL stuff, but I'm still here. Watching

WATCHING YOU ALL

**Okay Edit I didn't know this but

I actually didn't know Leo's admin was public at the time, but considering that, I guess it's not too widespread. So while it seemed to be alright, it could've gone a lot worse if that Admin was more well-known. Or if Sunny's was known at all. Either way, thanks for the clarification!!

#qsmp #qsmp quackity #quackity #qsmp admin situation

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