#new slurs for british people

[shmreduplication]

one thing that's fun about watching the sopranos is how many euphemisms there are for when a guy is a mobster, like obviously every minority who is deemed by the majority to be dangerous and therefore has frequent run-ins with the law has a wide variety of names for them so that they can be talked about in a variety of contexts with a variety of politeness levels (like 'fruit' can be p derogatory but not as derogatory as 'homo' so they have different connotations even tho they're both used in order to avoid saying "gay")

but the archetypal one in my brain is fairies, maybe it's the alliteration but every time they call someone a "made man" it pings the "fair folk" neurons in my brain

.................uh actually the use of verbal contractions, connection to and affect on business and money, enforcement of secret rules sometimes to the point of causing bodily harm, emotional reactivity, surrounding themselves with high quality goods, and having a society that exists in a 'hidden in plain sight' kind of way in the normal world makes the mafia even more similar to fairies than to those other groups.................................hmm

[buggywiththefolkmagic]

Hello!! I was wondering if you have any book recommendations for Appalachian folk magic? Especially for a beginner, I’m familiar with our local “old wive’s tales” but I’d love to learn more!!

Hello there! I have answered this question before but I have some new resources so I'll list them here! It really depends on which part of Appalachia you are looking at! And if you want to dig deeper the ancestral roots of the family you are looking at. For example my family has a lot of Welsh and British influence because that was our family source so a lot of those beliefs lingered and changed throughout the years!

Someone from Pennsylvania would likely have a lot more German roots for their practice. But despite the root differences for the folklore these practices stem from they do still share a lot of connecting points! But having babbled all of that here are my favorite books on AFM specifically. (Mind you Christianity takes a super huge part in the practice so a lot of bible and doing things in threes for the Trinity is involved!)

Authors to check out:

H. Byron Ballard- A pagan who also practices AFM, from the NC side of Appalachia, a lot of people hate her writing style which is a bit ramble-y. I also dislike the term she uses for her own practice but that is a super simple and small complaint honestly. I own all of her books on the subject, which should say something.

Jake Richards - From Eastern TN like me! A lot of what he talks about are things I have seen before, and he breaks down complex concepts like burn blowing into something relatively easily understood. HOWEVER HAVING SAID THAT the author is partially Melungeon, so he does have some Hoodoo mixed in from his grandmother's side iirc? He does label these things in his works and explains that they are not for everyone which I do appreciate.

Rebecca Beyer - While vaguely Wiccan toned, which I attribute to her publishers/raising, she's a transplant to Appalachia and if you're looking for herbal information on Appalachia and to wax poetic about how even with a ton of people settling there SO MUCH of the natural herbs and plantlife still survive, read her work! Her work on foraging safely and environmentally is so SOOOOO good.

Brandon Weston - For Ozark Mountain range/German/Dutch Appalachian work! He has written quite a few books on the subject and all of them are a treat!

Roger J. Horne - For how to dig into folklore and apply it to your own practice! This author is pagan and does blend in some traditional work with the Appalachian but I do enjoy his work and how he applies folklore. This author is also FROM Appalachia which is nice to see.

INDIVIDUAL BOOKS TO READ: Appalachian Folk Healing by Jake Richards - A republication of a very old book on remedies and 'spells', while kitschy and stupidly worded, after all it was a popular book created just for sales reasons, some of these remedies are things I remember having done to me! Good for both a giggle and actual information. TW for mentions of animal parts, hunting, illnesses, the G slur, period specific phobias and racism.

Albertus Magnus - These books all supposedly written by an ancient guy, were actually mildly common on traveling salesmen's trucks and wagons. So as a result a lot of people in Appalachia had access. Like the book above it is very stupidly worded and definitely of their time. Same TW as above.

Pow-Wows or Long Lost Friend - Another Pennsylvania Dutch book! Very good and very clear.

Southern Folk Medicine - A book that breaks down a lot of common medicinal beliefs in the South which does include Appalachia! Sadly not just Appalachia but a very good book regardless. THIS BOOK MADE ME UNDERSTAND THE THEORY BEHIND BLOOD ISSUES MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE EVER HAS.

Moon Eyed People - A collection of Welsh folktales that brewed within Appalachia from Welsh immigrants. Very good book imo!

Granny Buck's Dibs and Dabs - This book is so worth the price tag! One of the more expensive books in my collection, but I'm fine with that. Granny Buck covers a lot of topics and I can feel the accent through the wording!

Signs, Cures, & Witchery - More German Appalachian stuff! This book and it's interviewees are from the Kentucky side of the mountains!

Witches, Ghost, and Signs - This book is based more in the Southern Appalachian area! Georgia, SC, NC, and TN specifically! Lots of folklore here, but does mention some not so great bits of the lore, but that is expected.

The Foxfire Books - What began as a school project exploded into a collection of true to life stories and idioms from Georgia elders within the mountains. SO SO GOOD OKAY? For everything. How to plant, hunt, make musical instruments, anything from the mountains? They cover.

[autolenaphilia]

The average tumblr queer hates fascism and terfs, and they should, but because they have zero understanding of what those ideologies actually is, they end up repeating such ideology anyway.

They have zero understanding that it is the transmisogynist bioessentialism that makes radfemism so poisonous. So they call trans women mentioning the words "misogyny" and "patriarchy" a terf, while their use of "afab/amab" reveal that they haven't unlearned any bioessentialism and transmisogyny. I've written about this at length before.

And this intellectually lazy acceptance of reactionary thinking goes far beyond that.

Criticize the institutions of religion and the family on this supposed queer communist site, and you'll get massive cries of protest from these queer leftists. And in content if not form they are basically indistinguishable from fascist rhetoric about how "queer leftists who read too many jewish writers (like Marx and Hirschfeld) are trying to eradicate the vital institutions of tradition, religion, family and community with their soulless materialist globohomo." (Note that the link is to a critical glossary of the alt-right on rationalwiki, so there are slurs galore)

And yes, that is what i'm doing, and I'm very proud of it. Abolishing religion and the family, and all of their sanctified traditions is a very important part of the communist project. The main Jewish writer who convinced me of this is Marx, read him.

"The abolition of religion as the illusory happiness of the people is the demand for their real happiness." Literally read The Communist Manifesto, which openly calls for the abolition of the family. A lot of suppose leftists repeat what the manifesto calls "The bourgeois clap-trap about the family and education, about the hallowed co-relation of parents and child"

It's especially ironic to hear such things from self-described queers, as if family, religion and tradition aren't the most common tools used to oppress queer people.

A lot of reactionary garbage with a superficial anti-capitalist veneer has gotten into the left, which is not new. The just mentioned manifesto spends a whole chapter criticizing reactionary forms of socialism. I have myself used Marx's still valid analysis as my basis to criticize reactionary anti-capitalism.

There has been so much nationalist garbage absorbed by the left at this point that fascist thinking crop up all the time in the left. This is because planting the roots of 19th century romantic nationalism tends to bear the same fruit. And tumblr leftism is the most intellectually lazy kind of leftism.

Like your average pseudo-leftist position on nations is basically ethnopluralism, a neofascist ideology originating in the European "New right" that is trying to sell the old wine of blood-and-soil nationalism in new bottles for a postcolonial world. It's creator Henning Eichberg spent decades trying to sell his Völkisch ideology to the left. With some success, it seems like. Like the neofascist in ethnopluralist clothing position that "every culture has the right to preserve their own culture and tradition from the onslaught of global capitalist culture" is something that you'll see all the time regurgitated by supposed leftists. The one 19th century european/western concept that is seen as universally applicable is nationalism. It's bleak.

I can't even say the far-left cliché of "read theory", because a lot of theory is garbage. Not all of it though. This list comes from my libertarian marxist/"councilist" biases but Nationalism and Socialism by Paul Mattick is good, as is "Third-worldism and Socialism" an excerpt from an early 70s pamphlet by the British organization Solidarity, and the 1989 essay The Universality of Marx by Loren Goldner.

[incorrect-guilty-gear]

Robo-Ky: Back in the early days of golf history, and even into the 20th century, golf clubs in a set were not identified by number (e.g., 5-iron), but by name. There were clubs called mashies and niblicks, cleeks and jiggers; baffies and spoons, among others.

Sol: Hey, Ky, wanna hear several new slurs for British people I just came up with.

[thedreadvampy]

I think there's a huge gap in language when talking about British legislative and social racism bc some of the most overt and unchallenged legislative racism lately is against GRT people and a lot of countries (especially America) do not use the term GRT.

The G in GRT stands for Gypsy (using this bc it's as-self-described, like it's the term the British GRT community uses often) and bc this is for a lot of people exclusively a slur and bc it has a lot of historical weight, people will often object to use of the expanded acronym slash try to correct it to Roma or Rroma.

But the GRT community as a political class and as a group subject to racism includes, but is not synonymous with, Roma, cause it also includes Irish Travelers (who are another large nomadic minority ethnic group, aka Pavee), Scottish, English and Welsh Travelers (a mix of indigenous nomadic groups), and other nomadic peoples in Britain.

In some, but not all, contexts, GRT also includes non-ethnic nomadic communities: New Age Travelers (people living nomadic lifestyles by choice - full-time caravanners or van lifers), Bargees (people living full time in canal boats) and showmen (traveling funfairs and circuses). Not being a specific ethnicity, New Agers and Showmen have a different relationship to racism and marginalisation than Roma and Travelers (a settled Roma or Traveler family are still Roma or Traveler, it's not just a question of lifestyle and community) but obviously anti-Traveler legislation and bias harms everyone living nomadically.

I think (and I'm not GRT and my thoughts should be taken with a truckload of salt, I just feel like it's worth explaining what the terminology actually means) that a lot of the nuance around GRT identity is kind of lost in transnational discourse (particularly with Americans) because. the G bit of GRT has been used as a blanket term for hundreds of years to refer to multiple groups of nomadic peoples in Europe and so there are ethnocultural groups included under that term who aren't Roma but also are GRT and are racialised as GRT.

People racialised within the GRT community (as Roma or Travelers) experience way higher rates of social and economic exclusion than any other ethnogroups in the UK, including if they're settled (living in brick-and-mortar housing, which around 75% of people recorded as GRT do).

Both Roma and Traveler kids are systemically excluded from education (Gypsy/Roma kids are 6x more likely to be suspended from school and 7x as likely to be expelled than the national average, and Traveler kids aren't much better off (4x more likely than average to be suspended and 5x as likely to be expelled)). GRT people face systemic employment discrimination, being 6x more likely than average to be long term unemployed and 1/4 as likely to be offered high-level or management positions. GRT folk have the worst health outcomes of any ethnic group, and consistently report high levels of medical discrimination and trouble accessing healthcare. As a result, GRT infant mortality and maternal death is way higher than average, and GRT life expectancy is 10+ years shorter than average. GRT communities are disproportionately criminalised, settled GRT families have spoken often about having been treated as inherently suspicious on the basis of their ethnicity.

A lot of people write these issues off as being, like, a product of a nomadic/no-fixed-address lifestyle, but a) it's a problem with the system if our social care systems don't account for the fact that some people are nomadic, itinerant or have no fixed address. there is no reason why nomadic life needs to be more dangerous or excluded than settled. but also b) as stated a majority of GRT people included in these figures do have fixed addresses. it is just racism.

Homelessness is also a huge problem in the community, with many landowners refusing to rent land to Travellers, residential camping berths being oversubscribed by something like 10,000%, and significant difficulty accessing affordable housing. The land which is available to Traveling communities is increasingly ringfenced, often specifically with the intention of discouraging nomadic communities.

given that it is. racism. with an exceptionally long and brutal history of genocide, criminalisation and systemic social exclusion. it is also striking how often open, sometimes genocidal, racism against GRT people is handwaved or accepted as normal. anti-GRT legislation is explicitly passed on the regular. people are incredibly comfortable referring to all GRT people as thieves, scroungers, criminals and frauds. I have had literal circular mailings offering to "remove vermin, pests and Gypsies from your land." and yet calling this racism is often treated as an overstatement. Even though it's explicitly ethnically-driven bias, and has deeply entrenched social impacts affecting everyone racialised as GRT regardless of cultural behaviour or lifestyle.

anyway that's what GRT means, it stands for Gypsy/Roma/Traveller and it's an extremely underserved and marginalised racialised group in the UK and Europe. It includes Romani ethnic groups, but also includes non-Roma ethnic groups (like the Pavee) and Roma subgroups (like Sinti). They're united by a common experience of anti-nomadic racism, criminalisation and social exclusion and, as an aggregate group, are consistently among the most directly disadvantaged racial groups in the UK.

[buddiebeginz]

Hello there I’m pretty sure I saw you make a post about people trying to say Bummy was a slur?

We’ll finally some light was shed on who started it (Bree of course) and who keeps pushing it around (also Bree of course) but also the fact it’s not a slur at all

https://x.com/sirebucky/status/1800692776054710494

Why am I not surprised it was her. 🤦‍♀️

This is the post of mine you were referencing btw

Here's the thread you sent me for anyone who wants to see it:

And the thread they're referencing from Bree. That person starts a lot of drama on twitter btw if you're reading this and don't know who she is. She's even harassed the 911 news account and some of the journalists who review the show.

I've been immersed in a lot of things to do with British culture for a long time and I've personally never heard the word bummer as a derogatory gay slang term.

Now maybe it's an older and or less common term that I just wasn't aware of. I did find these on urban dictionary:

But even still B*mmy is not the same as bummer and also 911 is not a show set in the UK and neither Buck nor T*mmy are British characters. It's an American show with a large percentage of it's audience being from the US and North America. There's also the fact that different words have different meanings depending on the country and language. There are words you say here in the US that you wouldn't say in other places because it would be considered offensive. There are also words you say other places some would consider offensive to say here. In the UK the slang for cigarettes is fag. If you walked up to someone in the US and asked for a fag you'd get some strange reactions to say the least.

There's also the fact that the B/T fans are really only trying to use this to police the 911 fandom and to try to have a gotcha moment they can point to and say look Buddies are homophobic. Look at them calling B/T a homophobic slur. They are the ones who literally came up with the ship name not us. And again the ship name of B*mmy is not the same as bummer. I also use the word bummer on occasion in everyday English language to mean that sucks. Am I no longer allowed to use that either even though it has never meant something derogatory in the US?

I'm seriously tired of the way that part of fandom keeps trying to weaponize their sexuality and or the fact that B/T are a queer couple. They can disagree and dislike that that we don't like their ship and what we call their ship but they don't get to decide we're being homophobic simply because we don't share their opinions.

Thanks for sending me the info anon and sorry for the rant I'm just so over dealing with them. Praying that Tim gets rid of T*mmy before season 8 even begins. 🙏

[st-armand]

Plug!Hobie x Fem!Reader Part 1

( Reposted from @armands-sanctum ) Authors Note: All fanfictions I make for Hobie are in the worldbuilding of him living in New London, a re-colonized NYC by British V.E.N.O.M. operatives. This is more like a vomit of words then a headcanon but all of my headcanons are like that. Might make the move to AO3 if I keep getting banned

CW: Weed smoking, suggestive imagery, detailed descriptions of a specific body types, fem!reader, terrible black british slang, not beta read

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist • Part 2

Plug!Hobie who you meet on a particularly sweltering day, relaxing with a group of alternatives smoking outside—your sweet perfumes and oils blending in with the droplets sweat that bead on your skin.You’re frustrated with work/school/life and all you need is a quick high, a joint, especially after going about your day smelling other people smoke, now you’re craving it bad, so bad in fact you lose all inhibitions towards going up to strangers and asking them to sell you drugs.

He's done up in dreadfully low waisted, tight black jeans—ripped and littered with patches, that compliment his long-limbed body, intricate belts that you know have to be a pain in the ass to take off when peeing, and a cropped band tee ‘Black Liver’— on summer days like this Hobie would exclaim, “ T’ hot to be all done up” opting for the easiest outfits, like a Nike tech-wear, or a pair of adidas sweats that you gifted him, since you despise the look of Nike clothing, he chided on you about buying from corporative fast fashion, you retort, “Hobie you KNOW I only thrift things, please don’t start that now.”

Upon that first conversation, or even the moment his eyes caught onto your figure, he’d fallen, well…into lust, head first, dead upon impact.Hobie is attractive, interacts with other hot people, but he can’t help but be particularly fascinated with your figure—from your equally as low waisted and tight jeans, so tight they fit like a second skin on your legs, a sliver of your midriff exposed from the cut of your top giving him unlimited access to the slopes of your stomach, and the natural arch in your back begging to be gripped, or the way your bra makes your shirt look exceptionally tight around your breasts, every step in your stride causes a ripple to glide through the supple flesh, and the best for last his favorite part of you, your ass, so large it’s almost disproportionate to your body shape, but your thighs constricted by the denim makes it fathomable you have an ass that large.

But your face makes your body look like a present wrapped in luxurious foils, with an intricate bow on top.

Now it’s uncomfortable for him to wear those skinny jeans.

Hobie watches you intently as you saunter your way through other pedestrians, fixated on a single goal, he thinks youre coming up to chat them up maybe giving him the chance to get your contacts, until he follows your line of sight—oh youre looking at his joint…

“Bro! You got any to spare? I need a joint so fucking bad, I have cash so I’ll happily buy some off you.”

He’s slightly put off by your ice breaker, “Why? You a pig?”

Now you’re fucking pissed, after a long arduous day, when you want the most is to smoke a flat blunt, and this beanstalk, bastard is calling you an opp.

“Get your head out of your ass, or ill do it for you.” You bite backThe group tenses, waiting for Hobie to speak—who cooly replies,

“ leng ting ‘ot a mouth on her,”

he LAUGHS boisterously in fact—his chest heaves and he slinks into himself with just how fucking hilarious he thinks this situation must be, you want weed and you want to go home.

“Got a lot t’ spare, actually, but I ‘otta go back t’ my flat.” Hobie drawls his replies, languidly letting the words slip through his tongue, slurred from the high, lean frame against the stoop of the store their loitering about, he gazes down at you to gauge your reaction.

“I ain’t going to back to your ‘flat’, so let’s compromise. How much can I get for $120, and a few containers of food?”

Hobie quirks a single pierced eyebrow, the sterling metals on his face reflecting the light, even under the shade making it hard to even focus on his face for too long—that and how attractive he is, it breaks your own mask of intimidation (He’ll break it more once you start developing a relationship with each other).

“ ‘pends on how good the food is luv.”

Hobie’s had a few people offer food in exchange for weed, so you’ve already gotten him with your proposition, even if you rejected the insinuation that he wanted you to come with him back to his place.Other people love to use favors of other kinds which he rejects, he’s finds it completely unnecessary, but he is still kind, a community-oriented person he doesn’t mind giving people weed for free.

But he DOES enjoy getting gifts from his peers for weed; trinkets, porcelain dolls, customized instruments, accessories, and clothing that they tailor for him—forcing him into their studios to get to measurements right, and letting Hobie customizing the clothing to the way he desires, with no interjections or complaints even. All these things are decorated precisely around his place, he might not clean the mess in his apartment but he will ALWAYS make sure these things are safe, and dust-free.

“It’s pretty damn good! Alright lemme get your number, I’ll tell you where we meet.” During the conversation you contemplated the best course of action, do you go to his apartment—no. Let him drop off at your place? You’d rather eat glass then let a strange man have your address. But you want weed so meeting around the corner can’t be the worst choice.

Hobie wastes no time whipping his phone out of his back pocket, you exchange contact information, and with nothing but a curt nod, walking away from the draining social interaction, before a firm, slightly sweaty, ringed hand on your shoulder, whipping your body around, you watch a slow impish smirk grace his facial features.

“See ya’ later ‘orgeous.”

You retained a deadpanned expression, but your mind races and it isn’t from the secondhand high your getting from being around them. Weak kneed but you don’t falter in your perfectly constructed veneer, this is why you stay 10 feet away from attractive men.

The conversation is over now, at least to you, you give him a thumbs up, but Hobie persists even knowing he will be seeing you later, and he has patrol immediately afterwards.

“Want a joint for the road? ‘s on me luv”

Now this perks you up exponentially, and you invade his space like a cat yearning for its meal early in the morning.He’s reeling from the closeness—inebriated from the sweet smell of your body oil, and the crisp red rose perfume you wear, even the smell of the sweat gathering on your skin has him shaky

(I also headcanon him as a huge pervert, im talking panty thief levels. If yall vote on it will be graciously provided.)

Try his bet to focus on letting his lithe fingers play the edges of the paper like he would his guitar, meticulously stuffing the herb into the folded valley of the parchment, before joining the ends together with quick reels.

Hobie places the semi wrapped joint in front of your lips, glancing down at you with an expectant look, your brows furrow, not entirely too sure what he’s gesturing you to do.

“Mind sealin’ it f’ me? Your joint after all”

You wordlessly comply, letting your tongue tease the laminated edge of the parchment activating the adhesive, your eyes wander to his for approval an ‘Is this good enough?’ kind.

But for Hobie the vision of your tinted eyes, and the moist muscled appendage carefully coating the sealant edge has his cock twitching in his jeans.

He tightened it into a cone-like shape, before twisting the end closed, lightly shaking the tip to stuff the herb down farther, then passing it into your hands.

With that you exit, giving a coy wave in their direction and a mischievous “See ya later.”

Comments, Concerns?? Im still looking for beta readers so message me if you're interested. Pushing this out for traction since my other blog got shadow-banned.

[koolaidoverliving]

Do you have any Frankie the Undead headcanons please my crops are dying

Yes I Do Let Me Water Your Crops

like with william, frankie isn't apart of my AU! rather he's in the slendermansion one :')

i know the original frankie is 50 but i didn't know when i rewrote his character so — my frankie the undead is a 25 year old hitman! his corpse, like nurse ann's, was reanimated by zalgo, which turned him into the zombie he is now. his life before death wasn't the best. he had a daughter at a particularly young age and was unable to provide a lot for her.

both him and his daughter were attacked near the forest. frankie wasn't aware at the time, but as he carried his daughter's body, dazed with his body moving on its own, he was already dead. an entity in the fog recognised his fury and gave him an opportunity at a new life. the deal was made. frankie collapsed on the ground. when he woke up, he was still alive, but he had a hunger for vengeance... and flesh.

he became a bounty hunter who goes after bad people for money. frankie's made quite a lot of money, but he isn't allowed to reveal his occupation, so he has a part-time job at times horton's with william grossman (who is also his annoying roommate.)

frankie does have recollection of his past :) it's just that he's very dazed and his memories are slowly deteriorating, and sometimes he doesn't know why he craves blood so much — a symptom of being reanimated by zalgo...

anyway here's some mini headcanons

pansexual and trans male (he/him)

he actually didn't transition until he was reanimated (at the age of 23)

he has undiagnosed autism

frankie has a strong brooklyn accent which william tries to make fun of but he can't because he's british and that's objectively worse

his parents were junkies. frankie used to play outside more than he spent time in the house.

he has to restitch himself every now and then...

he's a redditor

definitely spat slurs when he was younger but not anymore (BRO'S PARENTS WERE ATROCIOUS INFLUENCES)

he listens to jazz music

he fucking hates working at tim horton's and his co-workers think he's cosplaying a zombie everytime he shows up to work

frankie doesn't like eating people actually... he just sorta has to. it's the only thing that feeds him.

he also tends to not look at his own reflection. he doesn't like seeing who he's turned into — nor does he think he's appealing, either.

though frankie quit drinking, smoking is still something he's addicted to. every cigarette he smokes is a reminder of how low he's fallen.

frankie pays 75% of the rent

while frankie doesn't show it, he does have a soft spot for william. frankie is just trying not to get attached to anyone again.

laughing jack on the otherhand is a menace and frankie despises him.

frankie's hair was much darker when he was alive, but now it's a pale blond.

:3

[sippywippy]

my friends comments on tf2 characters just by appearance

ft. ssome slurs we can say and ummm not kind nor important nor helpful language ^_^

scout

meowmeow : minecraft youtuber, british, ugly looks like my old stepdad, no facial hair makes him uglier, only faggots shave

woof : replied with chat gpt telling me to leave her alone

soldier

meowmeow : he looks like a strawberry dipped in chocolate

pyro

meowmeow : FUCK ME -> why are his pants so low hes like those black people

woof : i genuinely think he looks like a hey mamas lesbian

demo

meowmeow : his gun looks like a dildo

woof : "its easier to fake a smile than to explain why youre sad" ahh sticky note😭 🙏 🙏 🙏 🙏

engineer

meowmeow : Dude all these characters look like theyd have big dicks i wanna ride them & why are his feet so long

woof : defending scaramouche with her life in another channel

heavy

meowmeow : word girl sandwich man (chuck), why does he have a syringe on his gun

woof : he looks likw he gets men pregnant idk

medic

meowmeow : why does he look like a flayed rabbit in this picture

woof : nothing

spy

meowmeow : he looks like a monkey HE LOOKS LIKE HED HAVE A NEW YORK ACCENT

woof : isnt francw like anti muslim why is he wearijng a mask he clearly has one of those like hostage porn kinks

sniper

meowmeow : he looks like the guy that shot himself

woof : too racist for tumblr

miss pauling

meowmeow : shes like those 3d animations with the cum all ovwr the walls and everything

woof : SHE LOOKS LIKE LILY FROM LILYS GARDEN

EXTRAS

saxton hale

meowmeow : he looks like some guy from a farming mobile app i think

woof : is that the guy u have on mudae (i dont sadly)

burly beast medic

meowmeow : 🤤 licks

woof :

ok thanks

[thebrightestwitchofherage]

Religion and the conflict- an excuse for antisemitism

Many users seem to use everyone's interest in the conflict to spread misinformation and antisemitic beliefs. Antisemitism today is being rebranded as antizionism.

Zionism is simply the notion that the Jewish people should have a state of their own, in Zion (AKA the historical and religious name for Israel).

Debunking some common musconcepti0ons about Zionism -It's not a new movement- This concept has been around ever since the Jewish people were first expelled from Israel. Jews have tried to immigrate to Israel ever since and were often met with refusal. They were then sent back against their will to nearby territories such as Cyprus.

But I’m not antisemitic, I’m just anti Israeli

-Antisemitic hate crimes rates have gone up globally:

from slurs, genocidal chants and violence in American college campuses, to hate crimes and violence spiking across Europe…

Take London for an example - there’s currently a 1,350% spike in antisemitism.

People are killed for being Jewish. Swastikas are drawn, and the hashtag “Hitler was right” is trending all over social media.

You can’t deny that chanting “gas the Jews” in protests in antisemitic…

It's not like what happened in Canada & the USA -Treatment of Palestinians after the founding of the state of Israel: To better understand the situation, you'll need to understand the difference between Palestinian territories outside of Israel, Palestinian territories inside Israel, and Israeli territories.

-Palestinians living in Palestinian territories Outside of Israel (The Gaza Strip) are governed by Hamas. -Palestinians living in Palestinian territories within Israel are governed by the Palestinian Authority and not Israel. *For further reading, you can read about the differences between A, B, and C zones.

-Arabic Muslims and Arabic Christians living within Israeli territories have the exact same rights as Jewish Israelis. There are many "mixed" cities in which Arabic people and Jewish people live peacefully, it's a nonissue.

Israeli people are European settlers \ white colonizers

Are they all white? I can't believe I have to write this, but contrary to popular belief, not all Jews are white, just like not all Christians are white ... Stop being ignorant: there are Jewish People from Asian, Arab, and African countries. Please stop telling Arabic\African Jews to go back to Europe, You are embarrassing yourself. The reason why there aren't a lot of them in those countries right now is that they were either killed or forced to leave them (often without any of their possessions) after years of discrimination and violence. *Are they collonsiers?

The Jewish people are indigenous to the land of Israel. There is much historical, and archeological evidence for that. There is evidence that supports that the Jewish people have been here for thousands of years. The Jewish people all originated from Israel, and are an Ethnic group that originated from Israel. How can we be colonizers on our own land?

Most of the land of Israel was either given by the British mandate or purchased legally.

Obviously, some land was occupied- but that was during wars that were forced on Israel, after many terror attacks. -Many of the people claiming Israeli people are colonizers, are European, American, or Canadian.... AKA the biggest colonizers in history, who have 0 connection to the land they occupied. While Israel was a British colony until 1948-and Unlike popular belief, the conflict doesn't start there. That's what Hamas wants you to think. Your favorite Maps are a lie

They won't tell you about the Balfour declaration in 1917, the 1936 Peel Commission, or the 1947 UN partition plan which the Palestinian people rejected. Do you know what followed that rejection? Foreign armies from Syria, Iraq, Egypt, Lebanon, and Saudi Arabia attacked.

Many peace accords including the 1993 Oslo Accords (which since then were violated by the Palestinians)- were all initiated by Israel.

Not one of the wars in Israeli history was initiated by Israel. * Besides the occupation of the Golan Heights and the Sinai Peninsula** Most of the lands that make up Israel were either given by the British after their mandate over the country had ended or purchased legally*. *Besides the Golan Heights and the Sinai Peninsula**. **The Sinai peninsula was returned completely to Egypt in 1982. as part of the 1977 peace accords between Egypt and Israel. Further context and more information:

I suggest you read about the Suez Crisis \ The Sinai War of 1956, The Egypt- Israel Peace Accords, the Oslo Accords, the British mandate over Israel (especially the end of it), and different UN decisions made in the years before the founding of Israel.

[spark-my-nature]

Follow Me Down - DRW

Part One

Chapter word count: 6.1K

Summary: The boys are home from tour. You've missed them. Especially him. Friends to lovers, fluff fluff fluff.

Warnings: Language, suggestive themes, alcohol, drunk silly boys. (Next part will be smut, this part is fluffy)

Read part two (Also linked at the end)

The heavy bass of somebody’s playlist vibrated through the wood of the front deck as you hopped up the steps. The door shut, and knowing the party was in the basement, you silently snickered in gratitude for the woods that surrounded Josh’s place, and the prevention of immediate neighbors that it provided. 

You never knew whether to knock in these situations. Nobody would hear you, but you could never shake the feeling of intrusion if you didn’t at least rap your knuckles against the door before barging in, and so that’s what you did. You glanced back at the street lined with cars before pushing the door open. Immediately, the volume of the music assaulted your ears and you blinked a few times, shaking your head as you looked around. A couple of people gave you nods and smiles in the kitchen and entryway, but the basement door beckoned you down into the heart of the welcome-back celebrations. 

Returning friendly hellos to the few faces you recognized as you stepped over shoes, your eyes caught on the pair of black lace-up boots that wedged the basement door open. 

He’s here, then. Of course he is, it’s his own band’s “welcome back from tour” party, you were expecting him to be. Nothing warranted the surge of nervous energy that the sight of his boots kicked up in you, he’s been your friend since middle school. Doesn’t that make it even worse somehow, though?

You hadn’t laid eyes on Danny in the couple of months he’d been touring the states. Texting goes without saying, and occasional postcards got displayed proudly, tucked in the mirror of your dresser, each one signed with, “Love, Danny”. God, you wished he meant that word the way you wanted him to, though. 

Already, your palms felt sweaty, and you inwardly groaned at your ridiculous nervousness. This was so stupid, you were acting like you’d never seen a boy before. 

One as gorgeous as Danny, though? 

You swallowed and shook your hair out, wiping your hands on your skirt as you stepped down into the LED strip-lighted basement. The air chilled slightly, despite the many bodies crammed into the space. Josh had really made the basement an amazingly welcome party space. You’d almost forget it was even a basement, with cozy rugs, groovy lights and various speakers, TV screens, couches and a pool table. Friends of the guys made good use of the bar on the far wall, and as you scanned the room, you spotted all three Kiszka brothers around a newly added air-hockey table. Jake was already slurring British encouragements as Sam and Josh trash-talked each other as they repeatedly slammed the little puck across the surface. You covered your lips with your hand, hiding your giggle as you watched the boys, walking blindly towards the bar when you collided with a firm, tall body. 

“Shit- sorry,” you started, your head turning quickly towards the stranger you’d affronted with your clumsiness, when your heart skipped a beat with both relief and a whole new set of nerves. 

“Oh my god, hey you!” Danny beamed, turning and opening his arms to you. Your heart twisted some more, stepping into him as delicately as you could, giggling girlishly as he squished you against his warm body. “Hi, Danny,” you shyly returned. His cologne gently took over the forefront of your senses, combining with the inebriating feeling of his solid arms so tight around you. 

“I missed you, I hoped you’d be here, I was actually just telling Dave- uh,” he chuckled, releasing you from his bear hug, and your stomach twisted as you noticed his faint blush. “But you’re here! You came, I’m so glad.” 

You playfully nudged his socked foot with your converse sneaker. “Me too, it’s been so long!” You finally mustered the courage to take a good look at his face. 

Oh, huge mistake. 

He was beaming down at you, eyes shining with slight inebriation and affection. His lightly freckled tanned face looked so clear, soft… skin stretched tight around his sharp jawline, and his hair- oh god, his hair, the natural curls he was blessed with were clearly flourishing under his strict care routine. Perfect, shiny strands twisted adorably around his, frankly, kissable cheeks. 

Your face felt hot, even as you returned his wide smile. His infuriatingly long lashes batted as his eyes roamed your figure. You shifted your weight, toying with the hem of your skirt as he analyzed you in return. Clearing his throat, he turned his head, casually scanning the room as his cheeks coloured pink. “You look great,” he offered, seeming almost shy. 

You cocked your head curiously, unsure if he looked nervous or if you were seeing what wasn’t there in your hopefulness. Regardless, you knocked back, “So do you… have you been working out, or is it just killing it on the drums that gave you these?”

You reached up and squeezed his biceps gently, keeping your face light but inwardly screeching. Where did this come from? That was almost… smooth?

Danny’s smile widened again, briefly glancing at your hand on his arm before returning his gaze to your eyes. “Oh- uhhh, drums, I guess. Josh is more of the gym-bro, y’know,” he laughed softly. 

His eyes traced your face as you giggled, an expression you couldn’t quite place shaping his features. Curiosity? …Interest? Whatever it was, you never wanted him to stop. 

Letting your hand skim his bare skin as you dropped your arm, you nodded. “Ahh. Yeah, you can tell him how much the girls on twitter love the payoff from that, then,” you giggled, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively. 

Danny blinked, then snorted a laugh, his gorgeous nose crinkling. “Oh, God, no I will not be sharing that with him. Dude’s head would explode,” he shook his head, glancing across the room to the other curly headed band member. 

You followed his eyes, and you both watched the brothers furiously smack the air-hockey puck back and forth until finally Sam sunk it into Josh’s net. Josh mimicked snapping something over his knee in faux-rage as Sam wiggled out his little happy-dance. Jake roared unintelligibly, adding his two cents to the chaos. 

Snickering at the display, you turned back to face Danny, finding his eyes already stuck on you. You hadn’t noticed his gaze, because his face was still turned to the Kiszkas. He was looking at you from the corner of his eye, as though trying to check you out discreetly, and he blushed, bring his drink up to his lips to sip. Butterflies twisted in your belly at the thought, shuffling your feet awkwardly. Bringing a hand up to brush your hair over one of your shoulders, a nervous habit, you caught Danny’s eyes returning to scan your exposed neck. 

“I, uhh, I’m gonna grab a drink-“ You started, flustered, and Danny jumped in, nodding as he swallowed hastily. 

“Yeah, ‘course. I’ll catch you in a bit?” he finished. Nodding, you grinned through the pang of disappointment you felt. 

“For sure,” you answered, making your way to the bar. You hadn’t seen the boy in nearly three months, did you seriously expect him to follow you around the party all night? Shaking your head at the ridiculous notion as you made your drink, you then turned as you heard slurred rambling voices getting louder as the source approached. 

Before you could fully turn around, an eager Sam Kiszka barreled into you at full force. You barely saved your drink as you stumbled, laughing at the barrage of affection from your friend. “Sammyyyyy,” you giggled, letting out a strained grunt as he squeezed your middle tightly. 

“Hello lovely!” His long arms released you as he grabbed a fresh glass from the bar. “I missed you, but you’re here and I don’t have to miss you anymore,” he informed you happily. You giggled, nodding your agreement at his logic. “Indeed, how astute of you. I missed you too, Sammy, you have fun on tour?” 

He nodded, throwing back a tequila shot before answering. “Always,” he swallowed, raspy from the drink. “But,” he started to smirk, leaning in conspiratorially, “there’s this absolute smokeshow I’ve been chatting with for a couple weeks, and she came tonight,” he whispered. You looked around, and Sam discreetly gestured to the, truly, beautiful dark haired girl leaning against a wall by the music set-up. You let out a soft, “Ooooo,” nodding your appreciation. Sam furrowed his brow in emphasis, “yeah.”

You giggled, “D’you show me her for some competition or did you want some wingman support?”

Sam shot his eyes over to you, squinting. “You keep away from her, she’d pick you over me in a heartbeat,” he pleaded. You snorted, shoving his shoulder. “Oh shut up, she’s literally staring at you right now.” 

Sam’s head whirled around to the girl in question and you yanked him back around before he could embarrass the both of you. “Sam,” you hissed, trying to look casual, “You are the least subtle person I know.” 

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, well,” he focused back on you. As best his half-in-the-bag self could, anyway. “Listen, here’s the plan.”

You nodded, feeling like you were back in middle school, planning your escape from Chemistry class to go practice some music with he and Danny again. Sam was always your co-conspirator, and it made your heart feel full with affection as that never changed with time. 

“Jake’s gonna suggest we play spin-the-bottle-“ 

His explanation was interrupted by the snort of laughter you let out, quickly covering your laugh with your hand. He glared at you, putting his hands on his hips. “What??”

“Spin the bottle? You’re actually thirteen years old, Sam,” you giggled. “Continue.”

He huffed, “That’s basically all I’ve got anyway. I’m just hoping the bottle gods are on my side tonight.” 

You shook your head with a fond smile, “Alright, alright. What do you need me for then?” 

He shrugged. “Just have my back, alright? Like if it lands between her and someone else, you can like help make the,” he air quoted, “judgement call. Also, everyone is definitely gonna laugh at the suggestion, so I need you to be on board, help convince them.” 

You rolled your eyes, knocking your shoulder into his arm, his few extra inches of height preventing the knock against his shoulder like you meant. “Fine. Tell Jake to go ahead.”

Sam nodded, looking around casually as he pursed his lips into a whistle. You bit back a laugh as Jake’s head turned across the room, a subtle nod following. 

“Friends, family, and ffffucking americans,” Jake ‘Oliver Reed’ Kiszka began, “Anybody up for a game?” A few chuckled agreements from around the room encouraged him, and he picked up the empty beer bottle from the table beside him. “Shall we give this a spin and get inappropriate?” 

One of the boy’s old friends from Frankenmuth High spoke up, “Are you suggesting spin the bottle?” His tone was good-natured as he teased, “Lonely on tour, were we?”

Jake pointed an aggressive finger his way, half-staggering as he retorted, “Nonsense! I would never leave your mum unsatisfied.”

Groans and laughter echoed around, and you snickered, watching the object of Sam’s desires giggle and look down awkwardly, tucking her hair behind her ear and glancing Sam’s way. 

Sam smirked at her, out of the corner of your eye, and you caught him winking at her. 

Right about then, realization hit you like a truck. 

Danny was here. He would most certainly be swept into playing this game too. The chances were low but… it was possible Sam wouldn’t be the only one kissing their crush tonight. 

The night was getting more middle school-ish by the minute. 

Several minutes later, about ten party guests sat in a circle around Josh’s fluffy rug, a serving tray propping up the empty bottle at the center. Danny sat not-quite-across from you, Sam and a few others between the two of you. You nervously kept your hands in your lap, weighing down your skirt as you sat cross-legged. Risking a peek at him through your lashes, he was staring at his lap. You were unable to decipher his expression, and you didn’t like it. Taking a sip from your drink, you zoned back in to the game. Jake spun first, the group collectively “ooooo”-ing as it slowed and then rested pointed… at Sam. 

The loudest laugh came from Josh, and for once, that was saying something. The circle was hysterical, falling to pieces as Jake crawled forward with his lips puckered at his little brother. Sam yelped as realization struck, backing away on his hands and knees, but not fast enough. Jake smacked his hands on both of Sam’s cheeks, and tugged his head towards his lips. He planted a wet, loud smacking kiss in the centre of Sam’s forehead, Sam hollering his protest all the while. 

When the boys had settled back into position, you looked over at Danny, eyes shining with tears from the laughing fit. He wiped the corner of his eye, giggling, and his gaze caught on yours. You both shared a wordless moment of mirth at the brothers’ expenses before your attention was pulled away by Sam furiously wiping his forehead and reaching for the bottle. 

He spun it, perhaps way harder than was necessary, but you couldn’t blame him for being riled up. Unbelievably, it came to a stop between Danny and the girl of Sam’s desires. A hushed, “Ohh,” came from the group, sounding straight out of a nickelodeon show, and you watched Sam’s face blow out with shock. You also happened to catch Danny whispering with the girl in question. You shoved Sam forward, disguising it as a pat on the back, and settling back, curiously watching the interaction across the circle. 

Unable to let the opportunity to torment Sam escape him, Danny butted forward as Sam entered the circle, less than gracefully smacking his lips against Sam’s. 

Once again the group erupted in cackles, Danny scrambling backwards out of range from Sam’s swinging arms. Danny fell onto his back in his gap in the circle, laughing at the ceiling as Sam groaned his complaints, wiping his lips. 

Stubborn as ever, fueled perhaps by the persistent little-sibling need to prove himself and the denial of his kiss, Sam refocused on his crush, caving in and laughing along. She leaned towards him tentatively, and the two of them crawled towards each other, meeting in a soft kiss. She went to pull back but Sam chased her lips into another brief kiss, earning a collective giggle and a few whoops, from you included. 

When he settled back beside you, his cheeks were flushed pink, a silly grin painted across his lips. You shoved into him jovially, giving him a teasing smirk, which he chuckled at and shoved you back. 

You looked back over at Danny, who was conversing quietly with Sam’s girl again. Arguing, it seemed. Jokingly, but definitely arguing. As Danny huffed shyly, and crawled forward to the bottle, you realized she had given Danny her turn. Suddenly your heart thudded wildly under your ribcage. 

Your eyes were locked on the bottle as it spun, seemingly in slow motion. You closed your eyes before it stopped, heart sinking at the crash of realization that you were about to watch Danny kiss somebody else. 

The thought felt like a stab to the heart, twisting as the seconds ticked on. 

Then you felt Sams hand slap your shoulder, and his whisper near your ear, “Dude, open your eyes… are you okay?”

Blushing, you opened your eyes, looking at him in vague panic, but following his pointed nudge towards the bottle, you found it pointed directly at you. 

Shut the fuck up. 

Fight or flight coursed through your system, and you looked up at an equally stunned Daniel sitting across from you. His eyes lifted to meet yours, and this time, it felt like time was rushing by. Move, your brain screamed, kiss him for fuck’s sake!

Swallowing, you tentatively smiled at Danny, and your heart fluttered as his lips turned up in return. He looked hopeful, pleased even at your reaction. You pushed forward onto your hands and knees, crawling towards him and he mirrored you. Your face neared his, and you both paused for a moment in front of each other. You grinned, raising your brows at him in what you hoped was a playful grin. He let out a soft breathy chuckle and leaned in, lips parting as he closed in. 

Your eyes fluttered shut. And oh, sweet gods of love, his lips warmly met yours. Your head absolutely spun as you felt his lips press into yours, tenderly moving in the sweetest softest kiss you’d ever experienced in your life. All your suspicions were confirmed, he had the most kissable mouth in the world, and you had to force down the whimper that threatened to bubble up. 

Way too soon, he was pulling back, and you could cry from frustration. Fluttering your eyes open, you faintly heard a couple of party-goers cooing over you two, but your eyes were locked on his. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip slowly, looking just as stunned as you felt. 

Your body settled back into place beside Sam of it’s own accord, and your eyes hardly left Danny’s for several moments. That is, until Sam lightly tapped your knee, breaking your curious gaze. 

“That was… intense,” he whispered, smirking at you. “You got a thing for Danny?”

You blushed hard, peeking at the boy in question, who looked away once he’d been caught staring at you. Suddenly the room was spinning, and you took a deep grounding breath. 

“Follow me?” you asked him in a whisper, standing up before he could answer. You walked on autopilot to the stairs, walking straight up and towards the back door. Sam was scrambling, hot on your heels, following you out the door into the back yard. 

“Slow down, kiddo, where’s the fire?” he panted, falling into step beside you as you slowed down, headed to the gazebo in the yard. 

“Dunno, where’s Josh?” you joked, offering a half-assed smirk. Sam laughed his stoner laugh, turning your half smile into a true one. 

You both opened the screen door to the gazebo, and you sat down on one of the little wicker benches. Edison bulbs were strung across the ceiling, the maple-wood walls glowing warmly in their light. Crickets chirped in the dewy grass, and the fresh air already helped calm you down some. 

Sam knelt in front of you, putting his hands on your own, squeezing playfully as he smiled up at you. “Hey… you can tell me, yknow. Anything.”

You nodded, smiling down at the sweet boy in front of you. You already knew that, Sammy’d been there for you through the good, the bad and the ugly. 

“Yeah, I know man, and thank you,” you chuckled, playfully tangling your fingers with his in a lazy thumb wrestle. “S’ just… didn’t think I’d be facing it tonight.” 

Sam hummed. “Facing… Danny?” he finished questioningly. You giggled, “You make him sound like a video game boss or something.” 

Sam laughed, sitting back on his ass and releasing your hands to lean back on them. “He’d make one hell of a boss level, you gotta give him that. Probably in Donkey Kong. But for real, you like him?”

You look up at Sam, nodding shyly. “A lot.”

He broke out in a wide, teasing grin, “Awwwwwwww, my two best frieeeends,” he cooed, clasping his hands over his heart. “K-I-S-S-I-N- Oof-“

You kicked him back by his shoulder playfully. “Not fucking exactly, dork, he’d have to like me back for that to be a thing.” You looked down, fighting the sinking feeling that loomed over you. 

Sam sat back up, giving you the most offended, confused look. “Uhh… not a problem, dummy. Did you see his face when you kissed him? Hell, when the bottle landed on you?”

You shrugged, “No, not really, I mean, he kinda just looked surprised.”

Sam groaned dramatically, throwing his hands out. “Blind buffoons, the two of you.” He pulled himself to his feet, sitting beside you on the bench. “Look at me.” 

Once you did he gave you an imploring look. “He likes you. You can trust me on that.”

Your heart raced, and you furrowed your brow, “What? He never said a thing, Sam, how do you know?”

He snorted, “Neither have you, dumbass. And I can’t just spill all Danny’s secrets, would you appreciate it if I told him what we talk about?” 

You shook your head no, “Fair enough, but he has talked about me then?” You interrogated, to which Sam only snickered.

Then his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he held up a finger to you as he checked the notification. A wide smirk broke out on his face, and he held up the screen to your eyes. 

Dan Wags

11:36 pm Y/N with you? 

11:37 pm Is she okay?

11:43 pm SAM

11:44 pm sam I stg

You lifted your gaze from his screen and met his smirking face, your own face brightening in a shy smile. You bit your lip, letting out a giggle. “He’s uhh… not being very chill either.”

Sam snickered, typing a response. “I’m tellin’ ya, you’re meant for each other. Dramatic fuckers,” he mumbled the last part, sending the text and locking his phone. 

You nodded downwards. “What did you tell him?”

He stood, stretching his back dramatically with an old man grunt, then winking as he stepped to the door. “That you were waiting for him in the gazebo.”

You sputtered, standing up quickly, “Sam- wait, I don- I-I just…” 

He snickered, letting the door close behind him and calling over his shoulder, “Hey, wish me luck with that girl. Have fun!”

Your heart raced, palms sweating again, and you started pacing in the small gazebo. Crossing your arms, you huffed under your breath, “Hope she bites your dick off, instigating little bastard-“ the backdoor shutting froze you in place. 

Looking across the yard, Danny’s eyes met yours as he stepped off the stairs onto the lawn. He paused for a second, smiling timidly, and then making his way towards you. You met him shyly at the door, opening it for him as he stepped in, closer to you than was probably deemed platonic.

He walked in, turning to you shyly as you shut the door and faced him. You smiled tentatively, softly greeting him. “Hey…”

He smiled wider, looking down then back up at you through his lashes. “Hey, back.”

You giggled, purely because he looked so cute, and inwardly chastised yourself for acting like such a moron. You took your seat on the wicker bench, patting the space beside you. 

Danny sat down, and you looked over after a moment. He faced you, holding eye contact as he reached over, taking your hand in his. You weren’t sure if you were breathing as he scanned your face for a reaction, with that timid, enamored look on his face. 

Softly, he broke the silence. “You okay? You looked sorta freaked out back there,” he ran his thumb over the back of your hand, making your heart flutter. 

You took a breath, nodding, “Yeah, just needed a sec,” you admitted, watching his long fingers twisting with yours. 

“Away from me?” came his small response. Quickly looking up at him, your heart cracked at his eyes, wider than usual with nerves. “No, no no, just… away from the group, the party,” you assured, searching his eyes. 

He nodded, letting out a breath of relief through his nose. “Okay… good,” he smiled to himself. “Cause I’d really fucking hate it if I… if all that, um… made you uncomfortable,” he finished. 

You smiled at your fingers, his own still playing with yours. “Mmm, no.” You hummed after a pause. “Well, not the kissing you part. Could’ve done without everyone else watching,” you giggled shyly, blushing as you looked up at him finally. 

His face perked up, surprised and hopeful. “…you…” he cleared his throat, smiling boyishly. “You’d rather kiss me in private?”

Your heart pounded so hard you were sure he could hear it. Unable to quite meet his eyes, you mumbled, “…maybe.”

His head tilted to the side, looking down at you, and you felt as though he was holding you in his hands. “Just maybe?” 

You nervously squeezed his hands, summoning all your bravery and stepping closer, into his body. As you met his eyes, you softly corrected, “No, not maybe… definitely.”

He let out a quiet, slightly shaky breath, and his evident nerves elevated those butterflies swarming your stomach. His eyes searched your face, and he leaned closer. 

“Not sure if you noticed… but it’s just us out here, pretty girl.” 

One of his hands rose and brushed your hair back from your face and tucked it behind your ear, stealing your breath. Your eyes flicked down to his lips, your mind flashing back to the soft fullness of them against yours in the basement. Your hands rose from his, sliding up his chest gently and resting on his shoulders, as his settled on your waist and cupping your jaw. 

Offering him a shy but inviting smile, you tugged at his shoulders. Flashing his heartstopping smile, he leaned down at your bequest, brushing his nose against yours gently, then meeting your lips sweetly. 

Immediately relaxing into the kiss, you snaked your arms around his neck, letting your bodies press together gently. His lips parted, deepening the kiss tentatively, earning a tiny whimper from you. The music thumped distantly, muted through the walls of the house, not loud enough to disturb the romantic ambiance of the evening crickets. Danny’s hand slipped into your hair, holding you so lovingly against him as his tongue traced lightly against your lips. You shivered, happily parting your lips and meeting his tongue with yours. 

He let out the softest, most delicious moan, pressing one more deep kiss against your lips before pulling away, resting his forehead against yours as you both caught your breath. 

You had matching dopey smiles, quickly accompanied by blushing cheeks as you caught each other’s eyes and giggled. His hand in your hair ran through the length of it, sliding down your back and resting beside the other hand at your waist. 

“That was nice,” you whispered, making Danny chuckle. 

“That was incredible,” he agreed. His hand returned to cup your face, thumb brushing across your cheek as he admired your face. “Should we do it again?”

You giggled out loud at that, and he joined you, smiling innocently, “What?” 

You playfully shoved at his shoulder, teasing “You’re so stupid,” and before he could get a word in, you tugged him back down into your lips by his t-shirt. He let out a surprised hum, but kissed you back immediately, happily tilting his head further. The hand that had rested thus far on your waist roamed your back. You sighed quietly into his eager mouth as his broad hand explored. Scooching closer against him, your tits pressing firmly against his chest. Danny pulled away with a sharp inhale, looking pleasantly flustered. 

He flushed with a bashful grin, “Could get used to that.”

“Definitely…” you nodded, giggling quietly and looking down shyly. 

You felt him mischievously smiling as he hummed in acknowledgement. “Mmmm.”

The music had shifted at some point, clearly one of the Kiszka’s taking over the DJing duties by the sounds of the Denver song diffused into the backyard. The bass no longer thumped obnoxiously, replaced by sweet melodic guitar and harmonies. You took a second to look around, the absurdly romantic atmosphere making you smile. Danny seemed to follow your train of thought, and he too took in the string of lights, the warm breeze puppeteering the trees to the soft brushing of leaves, the stars that painted the late summer sky. 

He took your hand sweetly, hitting you with that intense, romantic look from earlier, and he stood up and faced you. Pulling you up in front of him, he stepped back away from the furniture. Then his other hand found your hip, and he began guiding you in a slow dance. 

God, he was perfect. He had to know, right? That this was the single most romantic moment of your life? You hoped your expression told him exactly how smitten you were.

Swaying you both gently back and forth, his smile grew, watching your eyes twinkle with joy. He lifted his arm above your head, spinning you playfully before holding you close once more. You giggled, resting the hand that he wasn’t holding out to your side against his warm chest. “You know this one?” You asked jokingly, grinning. He hummed, “Heard it once or twice.” 

He swallowed, and took a breath, listening closely for a second, then joining John Denver’s muffled voice. 

“If I had a day that I could give you, I'd give to you a day just like today.

If I had a song that I could sing for you, I'd sing a song to make you feel this way.”

Your knees felt like wet spaghetti, Danny’s low, velvet voice vibrating his chest under your hand as he sang to you. His eyes bore into yours, and he kept swaying you both, even as he dipped down and pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek. 

Biting your lip, your eyes met his again, and he smiled bashfully, looking off to the side. You smiled wide, letting your head turn and rest against his chest. Danny’s arm wrapped around your body, holding you in as his other squeezed your hand gently. You squeezed back, eyes closing as you savoured this moment. 

The song came to a close, despite your fervent prayers that it would never end. Danny placed your hand on his shoulder and rested his across the back of your head. His lips gently pressed into your hair, and you shivered. 

“Oh, you cold sweetheart?” he stroked your arm. 

You smiled into his shirt as the next, more upbeat song started. “No, you’re so warm.”

He giggled, “Y’know, it’d be even warmer inside… maybe in my room.”

You pulled away, looking up at him with faux shock and offense. “Daniel,” you gasped playfully. 

He threw his head back, laughing. “God dammit, I was just gonna show you the records I bought on tour,” he implored, and you nodded, giggling, “Oh yeah, gentleman are you?” 

He playfully rolled his eyes, grinning. “Oh, no, that’s code for ‘I wanna smash’, catch up, wouldja?” Pairing the joke with an exaggerated bite of his lip, you snorted, both of you giggling stupidly.

His laugh trailed off with a contented sigh, and he smiled down at you, “So… you wanna go inside with me? Listen to some music, have another drink…” he smirked, his eyes following as he brushed the back of his fingers down your bare arm, “…maybe kiss me some more…?” 

Taking a breath to calm the swirling butterflies, you nodded. “Yeah,” you blushed, grinning, “Sounds nice.”

He raised his brows, smiling excitedly before turning and leading you by the hand out through the yard. Following him through the grass, you glanced up, and smiled wide, tugging Danny’s hand to stop him. He turned, and you pointed at the sky. 

“Look, Capricorn!” His mouth twisted into a sweet smile, just drinking you in for a moment.

He finally followed your gaze upwards, scanning the night sky. “Oh yeah? …wait, where?” 

You pointed again, but he looked over at you and smiled. “Hold on.” He stepped in behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist from the back. Your breath stuttered at the affectionate move, and with a shy smile, you leaned your head back against his chest. Danny rested his chin on the top of your head as he scanned the sky. 

“What am I looking for?” he asked softly, and you felt his throat rumbling against the back of your head. 

“Um… okay, you see that really bright one?” you pointed. He nodded, humming. “Well its sort of a wonky triangle, to the left from there,” you giggled, explaining it more and pointing out stars. All you could focus on was the beating of his heart against your back, and his hands interlaced on your stomach as he held you like this.

“You’re so sweet,” he whispered, once you’d finished. You blushed, straining your neck back to grin up at him upside-down. “What do you mean?”

He smiled down at you, kissing your forehead as you closed your eyes. “Just are,” he mumbled against your forehead. Looking back up at the sky, he softly continued, “You remembered my star sign… and you showed me. Nobody’s shown me before.”

You twisted around gently in his arms to face him. He looked down at you, eyes shining with admiration. It made your heart race. 

“Danny…” you fondly admonished, “Course I remember your star sign. My favourite Capricorn.”

He smiled wider, head tilting subconsciously as he leaned closer. “See? So sweet.” His lips connected with yours once more, and you became so consciously aware of how perfectly right you felt. Like the stars that make up the constellations, you fell into place with Danny, forming something beautiful and bigger than yourselves. 

The thought made your throat tighten with happy tears, but you took a slow shaky breath and pulled away, biting your lip through the bright smile you couldn’t hide. 

“D’you know much about astrology?” 

He shook his head, “Nah, not really. You do, though, right?” He looked proud, like your hours of looking up birth charts and zodiac descriptions were not the waste of time you thought. 

You gave a shy ‘so-so’ of your hand, “A bit, it’s okay though, I won’t get into it.”

He furrowed his brow, “Why not?” 

Smiling crookedly, you shrugged, “Just… don’t wanna bore you.” You giggled at his perplexed expression, and he smirked. 

“Excuse you, I wanna learn. C’mon, tell me something far-out, space girl.”

Suddenly scrambling for any shred of information you ever knew, you giggled, rubbing your neck. His sweet, excited smile once again tossed any hope of rational behavior out the window. “Uhh… well, I um… I did your birth chart once…”

His eyes widened slightly, and his hands on your hips pulled you closer. Now front pressed to front, he cocked his head. “Yeah? What can that tell you? Do you know when I’m gonna die or something?” He sarcastically made a spooky face, earning a playful shove and a laugh from you. 

“Yeah, in about ten seconds if you don’t shut up,” you giggled, Danny miming an arrow through his heart with a smile. “It just uhh, tells you the star signs that correspond to each of your planets. Here, I have yours saved actually-“

You pulled out your phone, opening your photos to the album you’d made of Danny-related images. 

He leaned in, practically cheek to cheek as you brought up the birth chart. “So you’ve got your Sun in Capricorn…”

As you listed off his various signs and planets, giving a brief description of what each one meant, Danny’s smile never faltered listening to your voice. He hummed, nodding along, and as you trailed off with a “Soooo… yeah. That’s about all I can tell you…” he pressed a soft lingering kiss to your cheek. 

Your eyes shyly met his. “What was that for?” you softly asked with a smile.

He bit his lip, eyeing your face. “You’re amazing,” he whispered.

You shut your eyes, grinning wider. “You gotta stop that,” you giggled. 

His smiling cheek pressed against yours, “Stop what?”

“Being all cute like that!” You stepped away from him, turning to face him head on. He rolled his eyes dismissively, waving you off with a ‘psshhtt’. Frowning, you shyly brought your hands to rest on his chest. His eyes rested on your hands, then followed up your arms until his gaze met yours. “I mean it. You are, you’re so cute. Always thought so.”

His face flushed pink, and with a cheeky smile, he leaned forward, brushing suddenly against your lips. “Prove it,” he dared in a whisper.

- Part 2 -

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[stephensmithuk]

The Hound of the Baskervilles: Sir Henry Baskerville

@myemuisemo and @thefisherqueen have already provided their own useful historical context posts, which I've reblogged and will add some more of my own.

Tweed had been handwoven in the Outer Hebrides by crofters (small-scale farmers) from the 18th century and was introduced by Lady Dunmore to the British aristocracy in the 1840s. The warm waterproof fabric became rapidly popular for outdoor activities, like walking, climbing, golf and carriage driving. It eventually sped to the middle classes.

The Times has been around since 1785, originally as The Daily Universal Register before changing name in 1788. It is considered a centre-right paper editorially and very much the paper of the British Establishment, although its founder John Walter actually spent time in prison for criminal libel against the then Duke of York. That's the traditional title for a monarch's second son, currently held by Prince Andrew of particular infamy.

Free trade vs. protective tariffs were a big political issue at the time.

Holmes is using the the-polite term for an African-American and the French version of the now considered derogatory one for the Inuit - it is generally believed to mean "eaters of raw meat" or similar in the Algonquian languages family i.e. languages used by First Nation and Native American tribes. Basically, Europeans adopted a racial slur from a people they applied racial slurs to.

You can identify whether a person is of European, Asian or African descent, broadly speaking, by their skull shape, but in not much further detail below that level.

Gums tend to come from tree resins, paste from wheat flour.

Fountain pens were being mass-produced by 1889, but remained expensive until the 1950s and 1960s, so dip-pens were wildly used as @myemuisemo discusses; the hotel could worry less about them being stolen.

School desks would have indentations specifically to hold an ink-well and some kid would end up having to fill them each morning.

"Dime novel" was an American term for cheap popular literature at the time in a variety of forms and indeed costs, sometimes used perjoratively as they were seen as sensational and low quality. Insert your own jokes about modern fiction here.

"Why in thunder" was one of the many "minced oaths" used then and today to allude to a stronger curse without actually saying it. Sir Henry is hardly going to drop an F-bomb and Watson wouldn't be able to print it if he did.

In September 1888, six dollars would have been roughly £1 4s, or about £130 in today's money. Some fairly expensive boots then, but you can get similar stuff at that price today:

Shoe shiners would have been widespread in London, typically children sent out to earn money for their families.

2pm would have been a reasonable time for a Victorian lunch - it would have typically been a light meal, supper being the main one. Afternoon tea became a thing as supper could be very late indeed:

Victorian cabs had their number on the rear clearly visible:

Bond Street (actually split into Old Bond Street and New Bond Street) has a number of art galleries even today, including Sotheby's (also known as an auction house), which moved there in 1917. Others are nearby, like the Royal Academy of Arts on Piccadilly, right next door to Albany of Raffles fame. The art even extends into the new Elizabeth line part of Bond Street station.

[litsetaure]

So…one of my favourite headcanons is that the Potter family are Indian. (Those of you who’ve read my Grindeldore/Wolfstar dancer fic might recall that Fleamont Potter, James’ father and the UK Prime Minister, is Indian in that. Funnily enough, our real life Prime Minister is a British Indian Hindu who became PM last year. On Diwali. Yeah, that was an…interesting day in the family. Still not entirely sure how I feel about it.)

Anyway - here are some headcanons about James Potter being Indian, some of which are based around how I actually grew up. (Note: there will probably be more as I think of them!):

When Holi comes around, James wakes the others up by pelting them with coloured powder. He does it every year and every year they fall for it. They also pelt everyone with coloured powder throughout the holiday. It took weeks for the paint to be cleaned fully. (Some people suspected Dumbledore deliberately let it stay like that because he liked the colours.)

Sirius got really angry the first time he heard someone call James a Paki. He doesn’t know what it means, but he never wants to see that look on James’ face again. He absolutely lost it when James told him what it meant. (For those of you who don’t know what it means, it’s an incredibly racist slur towards south Asians; along similar lines of using the n-word to a black person. This is also why James gets so angry whenever anyone uses the word Mudblood - because he knows how that shit feels.)

Sirius helps James create magical rangoli patterns during Diwali. They also take over the kitchen for an evening trying to make Indian sweets. The results are mixed-looking, but they all taste good, and the house elves get some great new dishes.

Every time a festival falls on a full moon, they always celebrate a few days after so Remus can join in. (He hugely appreciates the sweets.)

James initially wasn’t thrilled that his Animagus form is a stag, since a deer is the form one of the bad guys took in the Ramayana when he triggered the events that led to Rama’s wife being kidnapped.

When James’ father died, he had a traditional Hindu funeral. Traditionally, the eldest son leads the proceedings, but when James broke down, Sirius stepped in to continue. In that moment, James loved Sirius more than he could put into words.

James also taught the Marauders some Hindi so they could talk privately, as well as some Indian magic.

James, Lily and Sirius actually go to india for their wedding outfits. Lily also has magical mendhi patterns done by James’ aunts and cousins. James also had to gently explain to Lily that wearing white is associated with funerals.

Petunia showed up to James and Lily’s wedding in a white dress to try and upstage the bride. She’s very confused to realise a) Lily is not wearing white, and b) a lot of James’ relatives are looking at her weirdly, because she’s wearing a funeral colour.

At James and Lily’s engagement party, James’ aunties kept trying to set Sirius up with their daughters and teasing him about getting married. They shut up when Sirius snogged Remus in front of everyone. James wasn’t even mad that his engagement was briefly upstaged.

James has a book of Indian tales and legends passed down from his father. He read them to Harry at bedtime. Lily would smile and watch from the doorway. He also taught his friends some classic Indian songs to sing to Harry.

Every year on Raksha Bandhan, James ties a rakhi on Sirius’ wrist and charms them so they’ll never come undone. One night, Sirius noticed the threads of one of them coming loose. That night was October 31st, 1981.

[auspicioustidings]

I like when you start speaking about things like ‘chippy’ because I’ve no idea what it means because I am unfortunately a untraveled American. I deadass thought ‘chippy’ meant like plain ol’ bag of potato chips…

I’m always at a “I like your new words” moment when you or others talk about stuff from the UK. It’s so cool to see differences and sometimes similarities from people that are across the pond!

I genuinely forget that things are specific to the UK :') Like I have no clue what else is a specific thing? Do you have off licenses? Are chain pubs that function as restaurants a thing? Do you take people to prosecco afternoon tea for their birthday? TELL ME YOUR AMERICAN SECRETS!

But also low key terrified everytime I say something and it turns out to be specifically British because I recall that time on tiktok where Americans lost their shit over the fact that the phrase "Oh I fancy a Chinese" is both common and non-offensive here. The question "can I bum a fag?"* is acceptable here because it means can I have a cigarette :') And then of course there is that one word for an ethnic group that in America is a massive slur and here was not but we have stopped using it anyway because it's a slur elsewhere and while that is common knowledge what other ones might not be y'know?

On a lighter note, it will never not be funny that Americans tell people to sit down on their fanny. This will be hilarious until the end of time.

*oh hang on that definitely has to be an in joke wherein everytime Ghost asks Price if he can bum a fag Soap volunteers

[eastgaysian]

they need to invent new slurs for british people so i can properly express my anger at people who get the script books before i do. not even rationing it like dissecting the scripts and talking about cut scenes is a post-show activity we're still in an era where we have succession and you're already greedily devouring the only scraps of succession we'll have afterwards. you will be dead by july