#The in between org story

[zhe-lazy-fox]

And it has been finished!

(WIP for those who wanna see the difference)

Donovan aka the bad guy's kinda origin in my original story The In Between.

Realised I was likely never gonna get it done if I went too hard on the lineart/details... so went a more sketchy look just to get it done so i could start on other animatics, have another one for the same story waiting to be completed.

[silkpages]

if i had a nickel for each otp i have that's destined not to be together because ultimately their stories are not about a happy romance but rather of coming-of-age/maturity and deep mutual affection that can't be destroyed even by the bittersweetness of the narrative and the recognition of the barriers that stop them from being together, then i'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.

[soysaucevictim]

Yeah... just needed to make vent art.

[livvyofthelake]

the lost city 2022 THE best movie ever made. all other movies should kill themselves i’m so serious it’s so good it’s fucking unreal

[n0thingiscool]

Shitty MSM watchdog entry:

One of the worst crimes of the mainstream media is watering scientific information down. Conflating preprint with fact and playing tricks with calling nothing more than an opinion a factual "study."

The mainstream media are extremely aware the average US reader has a base reading compensation level at the 3rd grade and so when they make science confusing and based on opinion, you have to assume it's done on purpose.

Three recent examples of scientific misinformation come from The LA Times, something called "Phys org", and Google News. The Times had a scientifically illiterate writer cover the OPINION of one single neurologist and then published the poorly written thing titling it as a "study." Then the Wish version of science news called Phys Org picked the story up and republished it as fact. And then Google picked it up from Phys Org and is sending the opinion piece out to American readers as fact when buried in the article they kind of clarify there's no actual study. But by this point of the article the writer and news publications have conflated the value of a real peer reviewed study with some old man who works in health's opinion. This confuses the reader and fucks up their already low level reading comprehension especially relating to science and critical thought. It's got to be on purpose.

[makingqueerhistory]

":')))))))) you realise that gen AI is available to everyone though right??? Queer creators can use it just as much as anyone else??? I just don't understand this post... It really feels like a cheap way to get on the 'AI Bad's bandwagon, and coming from such a thoughtful and insightful creator that's incredibly disappointing... It's okay to not comment on subjects you're not an expert in y'know...?"

Y'all know the drill, I am replying to this publicly but that is not an invitation to send any negative messages to the person I am replying to.

Anyways, let me start by saying that the original context of the post you're replying to is discussing an event where a queer org used generative AI to steal an interview with Keri Hulme. So let's start there. To be clear I don't even know if the original interviewer was queer so let's put the identities of stealer and stolen from to the side. I want to explain the harm done in this example specifically and I hope this is illustrative of what harm generative AI can (and does) do.

The original place I saw generative AI was a queer org that explicitly says they are using generative AI "for good", and as a way to bring more queer history to light. So let's take them at their word, and assume they are not out to cause harm. This is the best example of generative AI that I can imagine, so I hope that makes it clear that I am not coming at this issue from bad faith in any way.

Here is the harm they are causing:

Decontextualizing and rephrasing an interview: I am not going to pretend that I am an expert in academic best practices, but I do believe one thing, if a person is speaking on their own identity and lived experience, it is always much better to directly quote than it is to rephrase. As I read this source, I initially didn't know that it was AI, and I was already upset. An interview that is widely available on the internet with no pay wall, was poorly sourced and made more vague than it was in the initial text. By creating one degree of seperation between the original words of A WRITER (whose literal job was largely based in choosing the right words to describe experiences they had) harm is already done. It makes vague what was once clear, and removes Keri Hulme's voice from her own narrative.

The original interviewer is not paid, or given proper recognition: I get it, sometimes just copy pasting an interview doesn't feel transformative enough, but something that one would learn if they worked in the queer history field and weren't a literal robot rehashing what has already been said, is that not everything needs to be transformed. In those cases, we give credit to the person who said the original words (in this case Keri Hulme), and the interviewer who facillitated the conversation (in this case Shelley Bridgeman). This case (again a best case scenario), takes the attention and byline away from the original interviewer and gives it to an AI.

The original publisher of this story is deinsentivised from paying interviewers in the future: The original publisher of this interview has ads on their website. As a person who also has ads on their website, taking an article like this and rephrasing it for no good reason (the orginal word count was not prohibitive and the rephrasing did not make it more readable), takes money from the publisher. It's pennies, but it's also removing numbers could have been used to justify further interviews with asexual people and archiving of asexual stories. The org that stole from this publication does not interview people themselves so the money and numbers that could have gone to continue to preserve asexual stories goes to stealing them instead.

These are just the active harms that I saw in this specific case. As you said, I am not an expert in generative AI, and will not be speaking as if I am. But I will say that asking me not to speak out on active harm that is being caused in queer history spaces, is disrespectful to my many years in this field.

To illustrate this even clearer: if you were a patron, you would know I recently took down an old article. I have been rereading and editing our backlist of articles, and I found one that no longer fit my standards of sourcing. My standards had recently raised due to a video made by HBomberguy about someone in the queer history space who was stealing from other creators. I watched this video not as a work project, but because I watch most of HBomberguys videos, and this one made me think more critically about sourcing. An AI can't do that. All an AI has is what has been inputted, and it is right now impossible to input every available peice of information about ethics into an AI and get a coherent ethical basis on which it will function.

It is a distinctly human trait to absorb information and change in that way. AI can rephrase information that already exists, steal it, recontextualize it even, but it cannot create something altogether new.

Do I believe that there one day might be an ethical use for Generative AI? Maybe. Do I believe that coming into a queer history space, stealing the words of a Maori asexual author, rephrasing them, and giving the original interviewer and publication no form of compensation for their work, is accomplishing that? No.

On a more personal note: I am coming at this issue with a bias. As a queer history creator, I do not want AI in my space, because it is literally damaging to my financial prospects. It has been like pulling teeth to try and get patrons in the current state of the global economy. I don't blame anyone from that, but I feel very disrespected that I am being asked to compete with a machine now. Not only that, but I am being asked to shut up and be fine with it? No, absolutely not. I cannot and will not stay quiet as space that I have fought tooth and nail to create in mainstream discussions is taken and given to AI.

AI was not supporting me when I was sent gore to try and scare me off of discussing queer history. A person did that. AI was not there to tell me I had written too many sad stories, and I needed some happy endings to remind myself of the good in the world. A person did that. AI was not there when I was being harrassed for supporting and including asexual stories on my website. A person did that.

And after all that, I am being asked to lie down and take it when my ability to pay the people who supported me in those ways, is being threatened. Nope. Not going to happen.

An AI doesn't have to make rent. An AI doesn't understand what it feels like to have to stop holding their wife's hand in public. An AI didn't get calls from people needing comfort in reaction to the election. Pay me for my work, and get this AI nonsense out of my face.

[autisticsonic]

My take on a Sonadow fankid! She actually existed for a while now, but the trend gave me motivation to finally draw her!

Most sonadow fankids are purplish and tube-grown, so I decided to make her neither!

Background for the story under cut, in case it gets long!

So in this AU, stories from the more recent games happen when Sonic and Shadow are at most around 20 years old. Back then Sonic was rambunctious and reckless as we know him to be, and Shadow was a depressed, traumatized emo kid. While at first they were rivals as depicted in the games.

Over the years tho, just like their friends, the two matured. They started getting along a lot more, and became official friends, which eventually lead to dating. They both were afraid of getting serious though, so they took things slow and casual. Due to some of their unresolved issues, they couldn't get any closer. But not for much longer.

Some of it has been brought on by a Particular Event, and some of it due to restructuring how they go about saving the world, but things changed. As Forces has shown, putting so much responsibility on One Guy isn't wise. Sonic felt so quilty for failing, but it never should've been his job alone, so they created an organization, to share the load more evenly!

The org became global, with local groups of heroes being recruited all around, meaning that now the characters we know and love now had more time to take care of their personal lives.

While for some the change hasn't been much, Sonic, and to a lesser extent, Shadow, struggled quite a lot. Many of things happened in between, but eventually both of them grew to quite enjoy the domestic life.

They moved in together, and started taking things to the next level, now that both have done some healing and therapy. They found that they get along quite great. After a bit longer, they decided to start a family :)

Shadow came up with the name. He wanted to honor his sister's memory, but Mar-Mar was also a symbol of all his progress. He did go to therapy to make sure that he can handle them sharing a name, to see if it's a good idea, and well, it was!

She's now 4 and very loved, and her dads love each other very much as well. For a certain Sonic though, things won't go so great.

[redvexillum]

This request is special to me because my first NSFW Alastor x Reader story on my sideblog was also about Alastor getting head 🤣 (Tell Me I'm Punny) I thought it be fitting/funny if my very first request story for this new blog would also be about Alastor getting head, -sighs- the beauty of ✨️sentimentality✨️ By the way, I took your request quite literally, if ya know what I mean 😏 XOXO, RedVexi💋

SUMMARY: You simply wanted to wake him up...in more ways than one.

WARNING/TAGS: f!reader, oral s*x (m!receiving), handjob, reader is a brat, teasing, established relationship, edging, ruined org*sm, dom/sub undertone, Alastor is not pleased

Like a deer caught in the headlights, you stared at Alastor’s sleeping visage, mesmerized by the sight. It was silly, but you felt an urge to wave your hand before his closed eyes to ensure he was truly asleep.  

He lay on his back, lips stretched wide into a close-lipped smile, hands neatly folded one atop the other on his bare chest. His breath was soft and even, mirroring the tranquility of his expression.  

For as long as you’d known Alastor, you had never once caught him sleeping. You had long assumed he was an eternal insomniac, his soul never craving or requiring rest – a restless soul, so to speak.  

When you had asked him if he ever slept, he would only grin – his trademarked shit-eating grin – and he would pinch your cheeks while wiggling them before promptly changing the topic.  

It drove you mad, for you didn’t understand the purpose of his secrecy on this subject.  

You knew he was messing with you because he delighted in your curiosity, relishing the chase as you grew increasingly frustrated. Yet now, as your gaze rested on his sleeping figure, you had to suppress a laugh. Trust Alastor to fall deeply asleep only after an intense night of fucking you until you went delirious with pleasure.  

Slowly, you sat up and winced at the ache in your backside, a vivid reminder of how he had relentlessly stretched your ass with his shadowy tendril while rubbing your core until you were an absolute sobbing mess. The memory of his touch, the way he played your body like a well-used instrument, sent a shiver down your spine. He was the master at blending the symphony of pain and pleasure that always left you breathless.  

Pouting, you glared at Alastor as his body naturally sidled up closer to you, a comfortable sigh escaping his lips. He had promised that yesterday you could control the pace and make all the decisions from start to finish. But, of course, he couldn’t last five freaking minutes before he immediately started calling all the shots.  

Even though he gave you mind-blowing orgasm after orgasm, it was the principle of the matter for you. You loved following his instructions in the bedroom, but sometimes you wanted to switch things up a bit – go a little off-script.  

Nibbling on the inside of your cheek, a mischievous spirit took over your body, a small act of tomfoolery that you were sure Alastor would approve of if he wasn’t your unsuspecting victim.  

Pressing your hand lightly on top of his abdomen, you felt the warmth of his body seep into your palm. Immediately, his muscles tensed, but he remained perfectly still, refusing to open his eyes.  

Interesting.  

With a wicked grin, you smoothed the planes of his stomach, letting your fingers brush against the fine line of hair leading down to his hips. His breathing hitched ever so slightly, a telltale sign that he was not as asleep as he pretended to be. As your hand continued to move south, you were promptly stopped when the tip of Alastor’s hardened member greeted you. You giggle softly at the prominent bulge he now displayed beneath the sheets. 

Slipping the sheet off him, his cock twitched, anticipating your next move. As you positioned yourself between his legs, Alastor spread them, giving you full access to him however you wished to touch him.  

“Looks like only half of you is up right now, Al,” you whispered, and you knew he heard you because you could see the ends of his lips twitching upwards. Yet, Alastor, the most stubborn man you had ever met, remained unmoving.  

Well, that only worked in your favour considering what you had in store for him.  

Bowing your head toward Alastor’s cock, you pressed a gentle kiss on its head, earning a jolt from him. His cock beckoned to enter your mouth as it continuously throbbed against your lips. Humming softly, your tongue peeked out, licking a strip down the length of him. Down, down, down you went until you gave him an open-mouthed kiss on his balls.  

A small groan escaped above you, quiet, could almost be mistaken for a shuddering breath. Your hands stroke the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, earning a small jerk of his hip upwards as his cock twitched, wanting to be sheathed into a wet, warm space.  

Instead of listening to his demands, you carefully suckled on his left ball, swirling it in your mouth before moving to the other. You took your time, slowly and agonizingly lapping him up, moaning as if you were singing a song of praise from the taste of him.  

The points of Alastor’s claw grazed your scalp, earning him another wanton sound from you. As you slowly parted from him, his hands flexed, grabbing a fistful of your hair and dragging your head back to the tip of his cock.  

You rolled your eyes at Alastor as you let him grind his hips against your mouth, feeling every ridge and the pull of his foreskin as he rubbed the sensitive tip against your moistened lips. His breath quickened, trying to stifle another quiet moan.  

What an impatient man, you thought, deciding that now was the time to exact a small, harmless, vengeance for last night.  

Your lips parted, ready to take him in, feeling the heat and firmness of his desire against your tongue. The taste of him, musky and addicting, filled your senses as you enveloped him. Your mouth slid down his length while your fingers wrapped around his base. Your tongue flattened as you felt the force from Alastor’s hand pushing your head down, urging you to take him deeper and deeper.  

Moving your hands, you flattened them around the front of his hips, your fingers acting as a frame around his cock. Lower and lower you went, until the tip bumped against the back of your throat.  

A louder, deeper, and almost feral growl resounded from above, and Alastor pulled on your hair to get back up until you were at the tip once more. Then, he surged his hips forward, slowly fucking your mouth as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked harder. You felt his thighs tense, his control slipping as he surrendered to the pleasure you were giving him.  

The sound of wet slurps and the symphony of your moans and his groans filled the air. Faster and faster, he thrust, the thick, heady taste of his pre-cum slid down your throat. Your fingers drifted down to the taut skin of his balls, feeling them tighten.  

You knew he was close.  

He was so, very, close.  

“Ah, darling –” The moment he called out to you, you immediately pulled your head away from his grasp – away from his weeping, throbbing cock.  

Straightening your back, your hair an absolute mess, you stared at Alastor with bemusement dancing along your wet lips. His eyes were blown wide open, and it was almost comical how he looked before you. He was panting, his hands frozen midair where he had last grabbed your hair, and you could tell he was trying to process why you had stopped him from finishing.  

His black, slit-like pupils slowly drifted down from the ceiling and landed on your eyes. “Darling,” he purred, his gaze lowering to his wanting, desperate cock before meeting your eyes once more. He gave you a grin, a silent dark warning that if you didn’t finish what you had started, he would make sure that you would do well to remember that from now on tonight.  

Undeterred, you wiped away the saliva with the back of your hand before giving him a cheeky grin. “Good morning, Al!” You said in an overly saccharine and exaggerated cheerful tone. His eyes looked less than impressed. Slowly, you prowled up his body, ensuring that your bare, wet, sodden centre smeared against his cock, causing him to shudder. He gripped your hips, forcing you to stay there, to sit right on his cock.  

His hardness pressed insistently against your entrance, and the heat between your legs was almost unbearable.  You fought the urge to rock your hips, to rub your slick folds against his shaft because you knew that you were just a breath away from losing control and letting Alastor take his fill of you.  

Alastor’s eyes darkened with lust and frustration. “You’re playing a dangerous game, darling,” he chuckled tonelessly, “a game you will lose.” He bared his sharp teeth as his claws dug into your hips.  

“Something the matter?” you asked, tilting your head with an innocent tone, hardly trying to feign a believable act of ignorance. “Is there something you would like, Al?” Your tone shifted lower, and his eyes flashed with equal parts amusement and irritation.  

“I would presume it would be quite obvious what I would want, darling,” his voice strained, yet he tried to keep an upbeat melody in his tone.  

Tamping down your laughter, you tapped your lips, mocking the pose of someone deep in thought, before snapping your fingers. Leaning forward, you gave him a chaste kiss on his left cheek. “Did you have a good sleep?” You cooed as you let out a small giggle.

“I guess you do sleep after all!” You said before fully dissolving into bright laughter. You refused to move your body; you refused to rub yourself against him like an animal in heat, no matter how much your body unconsciously squirmed in his grasp.  

Alastor’s grip on your hips tightened, his patience wearing thin. “You’re a cheeky little minx, aren’t you?” he growled, eyes darkening with desire.  

With a mischievous grin, you leaned closer, your breath hot against his ear. “Maybe I am,” you whispered. “But you had your way last night, so today is my turn.” 

Alastor’s lips brushed against your ear as he leaned closer to you, “And pray tell, darling, what is your way?” The heat between you was electric, and you could feel him straining, desperate for friction. “Come now, darling,” he murmured, his voice drenched with need. “Don’t tease me like this.” 

“Hmm, maybe,” you paused, and the points of his claws dug in deeper, telling you to get on with it, “if you asked nicely, I might consider it.” 

You felt his muscles stiffen before a low rumble resounded in his chest as he held back a dark chuckle. The bruising grip around your hips disappeared. With one hand resting on your back and the other caressing your face, he gave you a small, chaste kiss on your lips.  

“Good morning, darling,” his voice took on its characteristic jovial tone, as if he wasn’t hard and wanting, as if you hadn’t just denied him of his sweet release. “I did have a good sleep, thanks for asking!” He gave you another chaste kiss on your lips. “I’m ready to start our day!” He rubbed the tip of his nose against yours, his eyes squinting to make way for his wide grin. “We best get a move on, for I have quite a full day planned for you.” 

Suddenly, his eyes glowed a deep crimson red as he jutted his hips upward, letting you feel the heat and the hardened, silken skin of his cock. “Quite a full day, indeed,” his voice deepened, the radio filter crackling and popping in his tone.  

You bit down on your lower lip, feeling the phantom pain across your ass cheeks and the coil of heat burning hotter in your core. You had a feeling that tonight, he was going to remind you exactly who was in charge.  

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[sunshowersanddandelionwine]

au where the Riley family lives and simon gets into some Deep Shit™️ with some sort of group, whether it’s cartel or a terror org or what have you. And despite his and price’s and laswell’s best efforts, even the most privileged information eventually makes its way to the highest bidder. Which means that when this amorphous Group wants to hurt the ghost, they go after his most tender weak point.

They snatch Joseph Riley on his way home from school one day, and he’s terrified. He knows what his uncle does (vaguely and highly sanitized), enough for a kid his age to understand the gravity of the situation. So he has some idea of what’s about to happen.

Joseph doesn’t really have a good gauge on the passing of time, trapped in a dank, moldy cell in the ground with a single dirty window that doesn’t let in much light. The cuffs around his wrists are too tight, chafing against the thin skin. He’s hungry, thirsty, tired, but not scared. Okay, he’s a little scared but not as scared as he should probably be. Because he knows that come hell or high water, Uncle Simon is on his way.

That is, until the Group gets tired of waiting for Ghost to make a move and decide to send a message. They grab Joseph by the scruff and drag him out of the cell he’d memorized every inch of through the building. Joseph doesn’t know what’s happening, but whatever it is can’t be good.

And it isn’t. The door they come to is large, looks like it’s solid steel but with a weird sheen to it. There are claw marks digging into the frame and the ground. And a low, persistent growl echoes from behind the metal. Before Joseph can even think to speak, to beg for his life, one of the men unlocks the door, throws Joseph to the ground, and slams it shut behind him.

He falls in a crumpled heap, panting and coughing into the darkness around him. And then he freezes. Because the room is silent. The growl is gone. With the last bit of courage he has, he lifts his head from the dirty, iron-smelling floor and locks eyes with two bright blue irises glowing in the dark.

He’s heard stories of the wolves before, caught somewhere between man and monster. Some had come from Uncle Simon, some where rumors floated around school, some were just stories told to scare children. The stories all talked about the ferocious majesty of wolves, massive frames and thick fur and pearly white, razor sharp fangs.

This wolf is entirely unlike those stories. In the barely-there light leaking through the seam of the door, he can see just how bad the wolf is. His fur is ragged and hanging off his skeletal frame. Barely healed scars cut deep gouges into his face and flanks. And his eyes have no keen intelligence left, just base animal instinct. He’s watching Joseph silently, unmoving.

Joseph knows the wolf is starving, and he’s the unwilling lamb led to slaughter.

But the wolf doesn’t pounce. He inches forward, nosing gently at the bruises and scratches on Joseph’s face. He whines quietly when Joseph hisses from the movement. And he herds Joseph away from the door towards a tangled pile of dirty blankets and straw, curling around his shivering body with eyes pinned to the locked door.

Wolves are pack animals, and werewolves are no exception. When one werewolf soldier Sergeant MacTavish was drugged and captured, the Group thought they had themselves a mindless killing machine. They thought they could throw a child at a lonely, feral wolf and send the Ghost a gruesome message. They either didn’t know or didn’t care that pups, no matter the species, are precious to the pack. They gave Soap a pup, and he would protect that pup with his life.

(And when Ghost bursts into the cell not long after, blood soaked and wild eyed, he doesn’t expect to see his nephew, alive and relatively unharmed, with a massive guard dog curled around him. He doesn’t expect that guard dog to change back into a man. And he doesn’t expect that guard dog to stick around once he’s back on his feet, sticking to his side like he’s got no where better to be.)

[yamujiburo]

Do you think you could info dump all that you know about Madame Boss and Mayomoto with drawings? I would love to know more about their dynamic and about young Giovanni with baby Jessie. Maybe Delia could ask Jessie about it in a comic? Would it be sad or nostalgic? Maybe both? Like a flashback or something would be cool! Anyway, love your art and everything that you do!! ❤️

I'm not sure I can get it out in just drawings (just because it's a lot) but I have quite a few I've already done if you wanna look through my tags~ I'll also explain a bit here with some of my old comics. Long post under the cut~

Canonically, Madame Boss is the founder of Team Rocket and Giovnanni's mother. Miyamoto was one of her elite agents and Jessie's mother. They're REALLY close as evidenced by how they talk to one another (ex. Madame Boss calling Miyamoto "Miyamoto chan", Miyamoto's informal way of speaking to Madame Boss despite her being her superior, their friendly banter, etc.). Madame Boss sends Miyamoto and two other Team Rocket members on a mission to find Mew, but she and the other members never return. Miyamoto's implied to still be alive, endlessly chasing Mew with Jessie as her north star and reason to keep going. Madame Boss passes away sometime between the radio drama and before the events of the first Pokémon Movie. You can listen to the whole drama here! Madame Boss and Miyamoto are primarily in the first part, but Miyamoto pops up at the end of each of the other parts at different periods of time.

This is more where my headcanons begin! Miyamoto, whose dub name I hc being (Calamity) Jane, joined Team Rocket mostly because of her not great circumstances. She works her way up the ladder quickly and impresses Madame Boss. They become close but at the time, Miyamoto was dating a charismatic performer/con man that MB, not so subtly, doesn't approve of. She was right to not approve as this man got Miyamoto pregnant but left her before he'd known.

Madame Boss, despite her penny pinching behavior (Team Rocket wasn't that big yet), does what she can to help out Miyamoto. They had to tread carefully though, they didn't want anyone thinking there was any sort of favoritism happening.

Jessie is born, and for a little while Miyamoto keeps her and raises her the best she can. On more short term missions she'd leave her with Madame Boss, who's not super fond of children, and would have her own son Giovanni watch her (or have another grunt in Team Rocket watch her). This wasn't sustainable, so Miyamoto quickly puts Jessie in foster care (the foster care part is canon). Miyamoto would still visit her daughter whenever she could.

Ultimately, Miyamoto was a very driven, one track minded woman. She would constantly go on missions and after discovering Mew, became obsessed. It was around this time Madame Boss was starting to catch feelings for Miyamoto. Miyamoto would play along but was not nearly as invested in their relationship is Madame Boss was. Not in a malicious or leading on sort of way, she just had a job she wanted to get done

When it was time for Miyamoto to go on the mission to actually find Mew, Madame Boss, while excited at the prospect of getting her hands on a legendary Pokémon and the money that came with that, began to worry in the days leading up to the mission and tried to get Miyamoto to stay. She offered to send a different team out. To her they were disposable, but Miyamoto wasn't. Miyamoto didn't take the offer, wanting the glory and money of finding Mew for herself (but also had a daughter she wanted to get back to and be able to provide for). She leaves and goes MIA

Madame Boss is brokenhearted and after several years of Miyamoto going missing, is not able to run Team Rocket, troubled by the immense amount of guilt and heartache, and Giovanni takes over. She remains in the organization, more so operating in the background. It was rare for agents to see her out and about. But years later she sees Jessie's joined Team Rocket as a trainee. She requests Viper and Giovanni keep an eye out for her. Viper doesn't know why but does as he's told. Giovanni understands, remembering Jessie as the little toddler he'd have to take care of many years ago as well as her mother Miyamoto, who he knew was very close to his mother.

Not too long after, Madame Boss passes away but Giovanni keeps his promise and continues to keep Jessie employed.

I don't think Jessie remembers much of her mom or anything from around this time. I don't think she even remembers her mom being in Team Rocket or Giovanni babysitting her. She just remembers her mother leaving and never coming back and holds some resentment, not knowing the context of why Miyamoto disappeared.

I've thought about doing a story where Miyamoto returns in my hanamusa au but I still gotta think it out more. It starts with Miyamoto stopping by Delia's restaurant and she and Delia talk, not knowing the little connection they have via Jessie.

[trans-axolotl]

Hi! Can you explain the difference between interphobia, intersexism, and compulsory dyadism? Or are they all synonyms?

hi anon! so to be completely honest some of the way i use these terms is just due to my own personal preferences, but i can explain the way i look at it.

basically, all of these are synonyms describing various facets of intersex oppression.

Intersexism was one of the first terms coined to talk about intersex oppression, and has been the most popular term on tumblr for quite a few years, but is not actually super commonly used in the irl activist spaces I'm in, to be honest. I think someone from one of the OII orgs coined it, but I can't find out who. It was intended to parallel similar terminology like cissexism and heterosexism, but when you start to really think about it, having "inter" as the prefix doesn't make a lot of sense--perisexism or endosexism would be terms that actually parallel cissexism and heterosexism. I sort of stopped using it because I think that it can kind of be confusing, and also that sometimes when you're writing about intersex issues it just looks so similar to the actual word "intersex" that it can cause a lot of confusion.

Interphobia. Also not sure who coined interphobia, but I think it was a natural shortening of "intersexphobia." I more often use interphobia to talk about the instances of intersex hatred where intersex people are being directly or indirectly targeted due to their intersex status. I also use it as an adjective to call people or systems "interphobic" and I prefer using interphobia rather than intersexism because I think it's just a little clearer, and might be easier to understand for people who are familiar with the language of homophobia and transphobia.

Compulsory dyadism was coined by Celeste Orr in the book Cripping Intersex, and is similiar to the term compulsory heterosexuality. It describes a system of oppression that is based on the myth of the sex binary, and how these ideas, practices, social norms, and policies, create structural oppression of intersex people and sets the stage for curative violence. Compulsory dyadism impacts everyone to a certain degree, including endosex people, but intersex people are the most impacted. I use compulsory dyadism when I want to talk about systems, societal attitudes, or elements of intersex oppresion like shame about micropenises or cultural pressure to shave body hair that might also impact endosex people.

so long story short, these days i mostly use "interphobia" and "compulsory dyadism" and use interphobia to talk about intersex hatred and compulsory dyadism to talk about intersex oppression, but that's just my personal preferences for clarity. other intersex people are going to use vocab different ways, which is totally fine.

hope that helps, anon!

[whatevergreen]

Blood of the Condor (Yawar Mallku), (1969), film poster. (director: Jorge Sanjinés)

"Ignacio (Marcelino Yanahuaya), the proud chief of a tribe of Quechua natives in remote Andean Bolivia, discovers that his wife cannot bear children. Like the other women of their village, she has been secretly sterilized against her will at an obstetric clinic operated by a purportedly beneficial aid group from the United States, with the covert help of the Bolivian government. Ignacio gathers the men of his tribe to exact revenge and bring justice to his people."

The story, which was based on accounts by indigenous people to Jorge Sanjines, provoked a public outcry which led to a government investigation about the Peace Corps' actions in Bolivia, ending in their expulsion from the country.

Part of an interesting albeit slightly flawed review on IMDB:

"... Molly Geidel, author of, "Peace Corps Fantasies: How Development Shaped the Global Sixties" found documents decades later clearly showing that the Bolivia Peace Corps director and volunteers with the agency, inserted IUDs in indigenous Aymara women at the time, despite not always having medical credentials and not being able to communicate well with the women.

So, it would seem that it wasn't the large-scale premeditated sterilization of a people that this film would have you believe (that is debatable), but none-the-less, an incredibly problematic policy practiced by the U.S. Peace Corps. It's not a long walk from nonconsensual contraception to accusations of population control. But the true story gets more complicated.

Long after this movie was released, a 2002 report by Peruvian Health Minister Fernando Carbone suggested that the president of neighboring Peru, all around asshole Alberto Fujimor, was involved in the forced sterilizations of up to 300,000 Quechua and Aymara women between 1996 and 2000 as part of a population control program called "Voluntary Surgical Contraception".

The United Nations and other international aid agencies supported this campaign, and yes, USAID provided funding and training for it. Whether these Western NGO's and Orgs were told that it was a voluntary family planning program (as the title suggested) or they knew it was a crime against humanity, I can't say.

The point is, the conspiracy theories this film uses to push its political agenda are based on either an eventual truth, or an ongoing truth that we simply don't have the full reportage of. So the movie's anger is prophetic or timely, but regardless, righteous."

Source:

[septembriseur]

There have been so many parallels all along between the international response to the genocide in Gaza and the international response to the fall of Afghanistan. Obviously two extremely different events, but I’m talking purely about the international response.

One notable similarity (which I think is simply now becoming “how things work”) is what a colleague in Finland termed “distributed humanitarianism”: the extent to which large-scale NGO humanitarian interventions have been replaced by grass-roots, piecemeal interventions by individuals— essentially outsourcing humanitarianism to individuals. My colleague, who was talking about this in the context of Ukraine, saw this as an amazing disruption of traditional models. I countered by describing the sense of abandonment by organizations and moral despair that I and others experienced while trying to help people in Afghanistan— and the real sense that distributed humanitarianism privileged people who had strong connections to the West, who spoke English, and whose stories could be attractively framed to appeal to Western priorities.

Another similarity is the fact that the response has been (understandably) a response of urgency, which has no way to create infrastructure that will support a future of ongoing emergency. In Afghanistan, the focus was on getting people out immediately, with the expectation that organizations and governments would eventually get off their asses and take responsibility. When this did not happen, no one was prepared to provide long-term legal and financial support for refugees. Almost three years after the fall of Kabul, many friends of mine are still waiting for the resettlement that the US promised them (including US interpreters and security guards). Most of the ad hoc groups that formed to support them have collapsed due to lack of funding, because so few people (other than veterans, really) are actively advocating for Afghanistan now.

Already I see attention to Gaza waning as the emergency becomes normalized. In general, Western audiences want to feel that by taking a certain action (providing a certain sum of money), they can solve a problem. That mindset and that framework is not useful in a situation that requires sustained responsibility for other people’s lives— that requires an understanding that this is not an emergency, but rather a manifestation of a logic (cf Achille Mbembe’s necropolitics) that is fundamental to our way of existence.

One has to ask what is going to happen a year or two years from now, when the survivors of Gaza still do not have homes, still do not have legal status, still have no way to support themselves and their families, and are still receiving inadequate aid. This is not a criticism of current efforts, but rather an observation from my own experience: people need to be planning for a future of sustained, long-term mutual aid. No one (governments, big orgs) can be relied on to help you. No one is coming to save you. We are responsible for saving each other.

[kwinsispn3]

oops!

anon request: I’d like to request a fluffy/angsty fic where Sam and Dean accidentally walk in on their little sis or platonic!reader having sex with a boy. If that’s something you don’t write abt it’s ok

Pairings: dean x sister!reader, sam x sister!reader, lance (org character) x reader

Disclaimers: smut (reader x original character) very light on the details.

Word Count: 2k

A/N: I don’t usually involve smut in my stories but no one has ever asked!! So here we gooo!

Sam and Dean finally had a smaller hunt to go check out where it was optional if you came. Usually if it wasn’t too complicated you’d go, but this time, you felt like you could use a break. It wasn’t just that, Lance was in town, and you could use some alone time with him too. Lance was a hunter, somewhat of a friend in the family. You had known each other as friends since you were teenagers, and eventually took more of an in-depth liking to each other as you got older.

It was nothing official, you didn’t want to put a label on your relationship yet. You had been texting each other more often lately and he ended up mentioning what dates he’d be in town which perfectly corresponded with this hunt. Luckily, Sam and Dean could handle it, and you decided to invite him over.

You didn’t feel the need to say anything to your brothers, not yet atleast. They would be a little suspicious if they knew you were inviting him over one of the times you had the bunker to yourself. Yes, they knew Lance and would probably approve of him. It was just a can of worms you weren’t ready to open.

“We’ll be gone for two days, tops.” Sam started as he zipped the contents of his bag shut on the table top.

“Keep your phone on, we’ll call if we need backup.”

“Got it, you got your gps on?” You asked in return. You made sure to keep your normal demeanor, even though you were itching to push them out already.

They finished up all of their usual checks and headed for the door. You listened for the garage to close, followed by the engine departing before texting Lance the green light.

You waited intently for the ‘I’m here’ text to pop up and floated in excitement to let him in the door. You both greeted with an eager, drawn out hug. You couldn’t help but blush as you smiled up at him, he was so genuine and attractive. “So, what have you been up to? It’s felt like longer than 2 months since I last saw you…” you guided him down the stairs, welcoming him back.

The two of you settled lightly into a set of chairs in the war room, taking time to catch up without interruption. Both of your eyes locked in at each others gaze so easily, it felt so natural. There was a moment where it felt as if you two had said everything on your mind so far, except for what you thought only you were thinking about. Of course, you had witnessed flirty behavior from Lance before, but you didn’t want to assume he liked you like that. Not yet, you definitely felt that way but you wanted to hold back, in fear of messing up a good thing.

Your heart skipped a few beats amongst the silence, feeling butterflies dancing in your stomach. You quick glanced at his lips subconsciously, yet he caught you. He smiled “Y/n?” You looked back up at him.

“Uh, I- uhm…” He tried to start. “I don’t mean to come off, uh- strong? But, I feel this sort of-“

“Connection?” You interrupted.

“Yeah! Between us… it’s not just me, is it?” He confessed with slight embarrassment.

“No! Not at all. I, uh. I’ve been wanting to say something too but, didn’t wanna jump to quickly.” You let out a slight laugh.

He smiled back at you bigger, with so much more behind it. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since-“

“Since the falls?” He finished. You nodded. You and Lance had fooled around a little bit the last night of the last hunt he was in town for. It was very impulsive for the both of you, but that was all. Ever since then, you couldn’t get him off your mind. There was an awkward moment between you two before you felt yourself leaning in with him. The sudden crash of your lips together broke down all the previous barriers. You leaned into his kiss more and more until you both stood up for leverage. It started to get more and more handsy, then gently leaning out of it.

You smiled at him, glancing back at the vast emptiness of the bunker. “C’mon” grabbing his hand and leading him back to your room. You pushed the door closed, not bothering to latch it closed all the way, too focused on the looming pleasure that grew in your core.

Lance rolled you onto the bed, continuing the long kiss, trailing further down your neck. Making sure to tease every sweet spot he could find. One thing led to another, articles of clothing were shed after the other until there was nothing left.

Lance intertwined himself with you, letting go breaths as your lust was able to finally be released. The wall of sexual tension had finally come down. He buried his face in your shoulder, pinning you completely as he straddled you. Your hands wandered his bare back, leaving marks with your nails as you clung on tight.

You were so lost in the moment, you hadn’t bothered to know that you had left your phone in the library. Which led to not being able to hear the texts or calls from Dean, letting you know that they finished the hunt early and were heading home. Both boys growing a little concerned when you hadn’t answered for the third time in the last few hours.

Sam and Dean stumbled in, already on alert as they swiftly searched the entrance of the bunker for you. “Y/n!”

… “Y/n!?”

Sam caught a glance of your cellphone on the table and retreated down the hall without a word.

“Sam! Wha-“

Dean looked down, also seeing your phone and hoping to chuck you weren’t in trouble.

Now, normally Sam would always knock on your bedroom door before entering, but with the unknown chance that something happened to you, he didn’t think about modestly.

The door swung open, nearly giving you and Lance a heart attack. You let out an embarrassed shriek once you registered Sam standing in the doorway.

“God! Y/n c’mon!” Sam hollered, throwing a hand up to shield his view.

“Sam! What the fuck?! Get out!!” You yelled while Lance dragged the bedsheets over the two of you.

Dean finally caught up to Sam. With all the commotion heard, he popped his head in to see what Sam was so concerned about. It wasn’t the kind of trouble he expected you to be in.

You saw Dean’s face contort, you had never seen him make such a face. “What the fuck!! Wh- you and Lance??!!” Dean shouted.

“Oh my god! Stop standing there, get out!!!” You threw your arm up in the air. You felt so bad, embarrassing Lance like this as you looked over and saw him red in the face.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry…” he placed a hand on your knee once Sam shut the door. You blew out a breath and couldn’t help but laugh a little bit. “What? Why are you laughing?” He asked, you couldn’t stop. “Did I do something?” He asked with growing concern.

“No, no, it’s nothing. Just… of course this would happen to me.” You huffed, trying to make the best out of the most awkward situation.

“And, you don’t have anything to be sorry for. It was my idea.” You assured him. “I know, but your brothers…”

“What about them?”

“They’re gonna, like… hate me now, or never let me see you again.” Lance lowered his head.

“Lance, they’re not gonna hate you, and we’re both adults…. neither of them can dictate who I see.”

“Yeah, I know.” He slowly started to smile again.

“Sooo, do you want to finish?” Your words broke the bit of silence, a smirk creeping onto your lips.

“What!? Uh, you serious?” Lance laughed in surprise.

“I mean, yeah…. But we don’t have to, it’s okay.”

“I dunno, your brothers kinda killed the mood if I’m being honest.”

“Oh, yeah, I totally get it.” You smiled. Lance smiled back. The two of you gazed into each others eyes before locking lips and drawing out a lengthy kiss. Once you and Lance had reconciled, you both got dressed and figured you should make amends with your brothers. After all, you probably traumatized them for the rest of their lives.

You shyly loomed in the doorway of the kitchen where your brothers were. You could hear them aggressively whispering before you entered.

You hovered awkwardly before Dean spoke up. “So what, you’re just having hookups now when we’re gone on hunts?”

“Dean! No! It’s not like that.” Your mouth fell agape in shock at his words. Sam shot him a look as well.

“Oh really? Then what is it like? How many times have we not known that you’ve invited over a boy?” His voice grew more stern as his thoughts raced.

You paused and locked your serious face at him. “Once. One time, today! Really?! You know I’m not like that.”

“Well, I’m not so sure I know what you’re like at all.” Dean crossed his arms.

“What, did you just never expect me to have sex. Ever?!” You crossed your arms, looking back at him with a dead stare, challenging him. Once you turned 21, you had hoped your brothers protectiveness would slightly decrease. You hoped they would slowly start to let go a little bit of that innocent image of you. Because every time they happened to see a glimpse of you being an adult, they’d freak out. Especially Dean.

Sam was better at understanding that you needed to break out of their grasp a little bit and enjoy your twenties. Which is why he was handling the situation a bit better than Dean.

Dean bit his lip, not expecting you to fight him on the subject. “Dean, she’s right. She’s a grown adult now. A grown adult who snuck someone into the bunker without telling us…” Sam spoke up.

“Thank you, Sam” you gestured towards him. He raised his eyebrows, hinting at the other part of his point. “Okay, well what was I supposed to say? You two would’ve said no if I said I wanted to hang out with a boy, alone.”

“Well, I mean, we know Lance at least. We just didn’t know you two were… uh… yeah.” Sam stopped.

“I know. And I’m sorry, we didn’t have any intentions of… y’know… I invited him over to hang out since he’s in town, and I guess it just happened.”

Dean closed his eyes, shaking his head slowly. “C’mon Dean, I’m sorry, really. But, you need to let it go. I’m grown now.”

Dean looked up at you after the last part, looking a little sad, and deflated. “I know…… I can’t….. but, I know.”

You shared a mutual look of understanding for a second before Sam interrupted. “Just… next time, make sure we’re definitely not gonna be around? K?”

You nodded with an embarrassed smirk. “Wait, in my defense, you two weren’t supposed to be home this early.”

“We texted, and called…”

“Right.” You dropped it, realizing you happened to be ‘busy’ in the moments they were pinging your phone. You turned to the side of the doorway, glancing into the hall. “Lance, you can come in now.” You gestured.

Both brothers eyes widened. “Um, he was here the whole time?!” Dean pointed.

“Uh, yeah. I wanted him to have peace of mind that you weren’t gonna kill him.” You said as if it was obvious.

“Ok, well….”

“Dean!…..”

“Well, I’m not, but I am gonna have a word with you kid.” Dean eyed Lance from across the kitchen. Lance shifted uncomfortably.

“You’ll be fine.” You whispered with a wink as Dean left the kitchen, Lance following unwillingly.

“So, you and Lance? How long’s that been going on?” Sam asked once Dean and Lance departed.

“I dunno, maybe 3 months we’ve been talking seriously?”

Sam nodded. “Well I think he’s great.”

“Really? You mean that?”

“Yeah! I mean, he’s smart, respectful, reliable. And we’ve known him long enough. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t clock him if he disrespected you, but, I doubt it.” Sam laughed, you did the same.

[usuallydyinginside]

⚠️This entire post is one big spoiler for Dragon Age: The Veilguard. You’ve been warned. ⚠️

I accidentally created the most angst-filled story possible my first time playing, and I desperately need to tell someone so here it goes.

Okay, so we begin with Rook as all DAV games do. Mine is a mage from Treviso. A Crow who is in trouble for ignoring orders to save a group of prisoners (Varric among them). When she does this, it endangered a larger operation, and she basically got sent away as punishment. That’s okay, though, because she gets to go help Varric on his fun little mission to stop Solas.

Enter: Neve Gallus. She’s beautiful, funny, and my god is the absolute icon of a detective I never knew I needed in my life. It’s love at first sight for me (though less so for Rook). Their banter is 10/10 from the get go.

At the ritual, we’re tasked with choosing someone to go with us into further danger. I was terrified the person would die, and I came into the game SO excited to have Harding on the team, so I couldn’t risk her. I brought Neve with me instead.

Which, of course leads to Neve being visibly hurt for a solid first bit of the game. Literally just me standing over there flirting while she’s got a massive bruise across her face that came from my decision. Yay.

When The Choice comes up it takes me by surprise. What the hell does the game mean I have to choose a city?!? How can I choose between my own hometown and the deeply beloved home of my one true love? (Because yes, by now Rook is smitten but I have given this woman my whole heart). Because of the way the choice is presented (that it’s civilians most in danger in Treviso) and based on it being my backstory-related place, I figure the best narrative is saving them.

Besides, Neve will understand…… right?!?

As anyone who’s gone this route knows, Neve is PISSED. She leaves the party for a while and sends notes you can just feel the hurt wafting off of. It’s obvious why when you visit Dock Town. The choice warns you about the cult taking over… but not that basically every single Shadow Dragon will be murdered, blighted, or absent for the large majority of the rest of the game. Not that Neve’s own home is destroyed along with every possession she has that isn’t currently in the Lighthouse. Not that the literal base of the SDs is destroyed and the org is basically no more.

Like, of COURSE she’s mad.

By this point, I miss Neve, and I feel guilty as hell, so I go down all of the quests that I can in her city. It changes nothing because approval doesn’t happen when she’s not in the party and Neve’s return is based on the main plot moving forward. Which means that I basically shot myself in the foot and made it ten times harder to win her approval, because most of the easiest quests are done and gone.

So when Neve gets back, she stays pissed and sad a LONG time. I have her in my party for every quest and it takes nearly all of them to get her even with the rest of the party in Act 2, because now she has the “hardened” status.

But finally, eventually, I do get her there and I’m able to romance her!! She understands my impossible choice now that she’s had some time, and we get adorable cut scenes.

All through these, the theme is clear: Neve’s driving character arc, particularly in romance, is that good things don’t last. Every spot of luck comes with a catch.

So you? You must be a temporary thing to her. She can’t count on you to be there, because somehow, she will lose you.

Which, of course, takes us to the point of no return.

Neve’s final romance scene before you go off to face the gods (again) is essentially an argument. She refuses to talk about you both having a future together because it scares her to even try to believe it’s possible. She calls you her favorite nickname a lot—Trouble and even notes she chose it well. That you’re loads of trouble for her once carefully protected heart.

On the choice between Bellara vs Neve, I chose Bellara because I do not trust this game, and I am finishing this goddamn romance at this point or so help me. This is actually the more tragic outlook for Neve though! 🙃 First, she disapproves and believes that it shows you don’t have faith in her as she suspected, confirming her belief you can’t be counted on. Then, she’s not lost in a fog of blight for days.

Oh no. She gets to be there to feel ALL of it.

When Solas tricks Rook and locks her in the prison of the fade, Neve’s worst nightmares come true. The catch has made itself known. The tables have turned. Fate has proven her cynicism right once again.

Good things don’t last.

Neve spends TWO WEEKS kicking herself for believing it could be her have been different. The whole world is doomed as far as she knows, and that’s not what she’s thinking about. Even with Dock Town at the center of the fight—the city she adores and never stops talking about—that’s not where her head is at.

It’s locked in the fade with you. Her heart.

When Rook reappears, Neve can scarcely believe it. She talks about the fact that somehow after all that, she did have hope you’d come back. That part of her was holding onto Rook’s personal brand of optimism even through her panic.

Her first words to you in that cutscene are “You came back.”

You can hear her surprise. Like even then, she can’t quite believe it.

Finally you hit the turning point where Neve stops living so cautiously she can’t enjoy the present and what you have together. She’s able to admit she loves you.

And when the game ends, Dock Town is even more destroyed from the events of Act 3, but this time, Neve doesn’t use it as a way to push you away. This time, she knows you’re in it together. They you’ll help rebuild together.

After every impossible choice… every tragedy… every hardship, you’re together.

Now, you can only prove it was worth all the trouble. ❤️

[knightofleo]

TRA​И​Ƨ​A by Red Hot Org

"Storied activist and music production non-profit Red Hot presents its latest project, TRAИƧA out November 22nd. With production beginning in 2021, and over 100 artists contributing, TRAИƧA marks one of the most ambitious projects ever undertaken by Red Hot - a spiritual journey across 8 chapters and 46 songs, spotlighting the gifts of many of the most daring, imaginative trans and non-binary artists working today. It softens the edges of the world we know, and invokes powerful dreams of the futures that might one day thunder from its cracks. The album's instantly memorable cover speaks to the tension between nature and constructed environments, and the tension of transness in the western gender binary."

Adrianne Lenker, Ahya Simone, Alan Sparhawk (Low), Allison Russell, Am Taylor, Anajah, André 3000, Ana Roxanne, Anjimile, ANOHNI, Arthur Baker, Asher White, AV Maria, Babehoven, Bartees Strange, Belina Rose, Benét, Beverly Glenn-Copeland, Bill Callahan, Blake Mills, Bloomsday, Calvin Lauber, Caroline Rose, Cassandra Croft, Cassandra Jenkins, Ceyenne Doroshow, Christian Lee Hutson, Claire Rousay, Clairo, CLARITY, Cole Pulice, Devendra Banhart, Dirty Projectors, Eileen Myles, Eli Winter, Elizabeth Glenn-Copeland, Ezra Furman, Faye Webster, Fleet Foxes, Frank Cosmos, Gary Gunn, Gia Margaret, Green-House, Grouper, Hand Habits, Heart Shaped, Helado Negro, Hunter Schafer, Imara Jones, Jamal Shakeri, Jay Dee Daugherty, Jayne County, Jeff Tweedy, Jlin, Joy Guidry, Julianna Barwick, Julie Byrne, Julien Baker, Kara Jackson, Kathi Wilcox, Kb Borins, Kelela, L'rain, Laaraji, Laura Jane Grace, Lauren Auder, Lee Ranaldo, Lightning Bug, Lomelda, Lucy Liyou, Lynn Avery, Lyra Pramuk, Mary Lattimore, Mizu, Mojo Disco, Moor Mother, More Eaze, Moses Sumney, Nico Georis, Nina Keith, Niecy Blues, Nsámbu Za Suékama, Quinn Christopherson, Pepper Mashay, Perfume Genius, Pharoah Sanders, Rachika Nayar, Sade, Sam Smith, Sharon Van Etten, SOAK, Soft Rōnin, SKY, SPARKLE DIVISION (William Basinski), Taryn Blake Miller, Teddy Geiger, Time Wharp, Wendy & Lisa, Yaeji, Yaya Bey