#up and down and up again

[heritageposts]

🇵🇸 From BDS:

More than 300 Palestinian sports teams are calling to ban Israel from the Olympics over its genocide against Palestinians in Gaza. [...] In Gaza, Israel has killed Palestinian Olympic Football coach Hani Al Masdar, destroyed the Palestinian Olympic Committee offices, and turned sports facilities into shameful mass detention and torture centers. We can’t sit back as the IOC allows Israel to use the Olympics to sportswash its genocide in Gaza and its apartheid regime against Palestinians everywhere. Support the call from Palestinian teams. Join the campaign to #BanIsrael from the Olympics and peacefully disrupt the road to the Paris 2024 games. 

Global days of action planned for March 15-17:

Ahead of the IOC executive board meeting in Lausanne Switzerland (March 19-21), take the call from Palestinian teams to your National Olympic Committee, International Sports Federations and Recognized Sports Federations. Organize protests, sit-ins, peaceful disruptions, or awareness raising events on Israeli attacks on Palestinian sports.

For more concrete information on how you can participate in the campaign, see the link above. You should also check in with your local BDS-affiliated organization(s) to see if they have anything planned for these dates (if they don't, consider bringing it up to them)

If you're not familiar with any BDS-affiliated organizations in your country (or state/city), then take a look at BDS's "Join a Campaign'"page.

There's also a petition you can sign.

[get-back-homeward]

There’s a Zen story that Yoko once told me… A king sent his messenger to an artist to request a painting, he paid the artist money, and the artist said, “Okay, come back.” So a year goes by, and the messenger comes back and tells him, “The king’s waiting for your painting,” and the artist says, “Oh, hold on,” and whips it right off in front of him and says, “Here.” And the messenger says, “What’s this? The king paid you twenty thousand bucks for this shit, and you knock it off in five minutes?” And the painter replies, “Yeah, but I spent ten years thinking about it.” And there’s no way I could have written the Double Fantasy without those five years.

-

Mick’s put out consistently good work for twenty years, and will they give him a break? Will they ever say, “Look at him, he’s Number One, he’s only thirty-six and he’s put out a beautiful song, ‘Emotional Rescue.'”… And God help Bruce Springsteen when they decide he’s no longer God… Right now his fans are happy. He’s told them about being drunk and chasing girls and cars and everything and that’s about the level they enjoy. But when he gets down to facing his own success and growing older and having to produce it again and again, they’ll turn on him, and I hope he survives it. All he has to do is look at me or Mick. So it goes up and down, up and down — of course it does, but what are we, machines?… When they first criticized “From Me to You” as below par Beatles, that’s when I first realized you’ve got to keep it up, there’s some sort of system where you get on the wheel and you’ve got to keep going around.

[screwpinecaprice]

She's not like other girls

[quirinah]

she dun on my geon till i meshi

[han-ban-bam]

how many of their dates do u think end up like this.

[egophiliac]

he did it! 🐍 and it only took...uhhh...well, there probably could've been less punches, but why hold back!

PUNCHES FOR EVERYONE

[waterghostype]

ocean blue how do you do

[bacchuschucklefuck]

summer of junior year 06/11

[bigfatbreak]

Birds of a Feather previous / next

[starry-bi-sky]

on a completely separate note; shizun luo binghe with a disciple shen yuan who fell into the abyss??? *thinks about LBH canonically stealing SQQ's corpse for 5 years* he'd hallucinate i think. like, like visual and audial hallucinations.

Keeps thinking he's seeing SQQ in the corner of his eyes, or wandering between the trees, amongst a group of disciples. Thinks he hears him calling for him, but its just the wind or another disciple.

Gets Xiu Ya reforged but patently fucking refuses to make a sword mound. Because his disciple Is Not Dead :))) There was No Body. He's Not Dead. And If You keep Insisting That He Is, He's Gonna Skewer You :). He's holding onto Xiu Ya so he can return his most favored disciple's sword when he returns. It's on his hip right next to Zheng Yang where it's supposed to be.

Also this motherfucker?? does not sleep btw. He has the image of SQQ, wide eyed and hysterical and standing at the mouth of the abyss burned into his fucking eyelids. Can't use the dreamscape to escape it either because he keeps trying to save him and either he does and it's an incredibly cruel trick to wake up to, or he doesn't and he gets his heart broken in several different pieces again.

There is no convincing this man that Shen Qingqiu is dead. Absolutely nothing at all. He is buried so deep in denial that moles would be jealous of how deep he is. He keeps making tea for two in the bamboo house only to remember that it's just him. SQQ's fans are hiding everywhere, little reminders of his presence. He goes to wake up SQQ on the mornings he sleeps in-- only to find the room empty.

[lazylittledragon]

taking all my american followers by the shoulders. listen to me. just because you have a more promising candidate now doesn't mean you just assume it's going to be fine and don't bother voting. assuming trump wasn't going to win is how you got here in the first place so you go out and fucking vote for harris and give everyone a fighting chance.

also if you're still in the 'they're both as bad as eachother' delirium, please take your head out from between your cheeks and consider that your options are an imperfect president and the literal worst person alive who is going to get masses of people killed. i've said it like this before, but it's like deciding between maybe getting food poisoning or definitely having a brain aneurysm. take your pick i guess but don't be surprised when you drop dead.

[shotmrmiller]

re: rugby team ghoap

it'd been a one-off, seize-the-moment kind of thing. casual hookups aren't really for you, plus you distinctly remember your ex prating on about how the team would only be here for the weekend hence the absolute burning need to go, and you've got work monday.

goodbye, great knowing them. you'd traipsed out of the hotel room with your sneakers in hand, soap's used jersey in the other- a memento of sorts, a trophy. mild serial killer behavior but you reckon since you just became another pearl in their long string of conquests, the least you could do is take something with you that won't be gone with a warm epsom salt bath and a couple of days rest.

("would ye believe yer the prettiest we've ever brought back with us?" right. you know where you stand on that scale, and people like you don't typically pull men like them. another cringe-worthy comment like that and you'd mistake their interest with pity.)

you'd put both jerseys in the wash later that day, and the rattling of your washing machine marked the end of your exciting weekend.

or so you'd thought. from your side of things, you'd wiped your hands clean of their sweat, spit and come and went home, once again falling back into semi-familiarity, expecting to go to work feeling completely relaxed and loose, in more ways than one, while ignoring the photos taken of you and the "star players" at the stadium on social media.

(no one caught your face, what bloody luck.)

when you see them again, it's by pure chance. you'd been ordering a sandwich at a deli down the street, hand already reaching for your wallet when an arm curls around your shoulders, dark, coarse hair of a forearm brushing against your cheek.

cedarwood and citrus. it clings to your senses— a sharp, tangy reminder of that time you'd only look back on when the familiar pang of want pooled searing hot between your legs. small world, you suppose.

"didnae leave a note. stole my jersey. 'm surprised ye didnae leave us money on the table, bonnie." warmth flared beneath your cheeks but you didn't cow to his crude joke.

"i suppose i could've left a tip. what do you want?"

the playful lines around his eyes smoothed as his lips straightened into a firm line, his eyes frostbitten. you ignore the way his touch makes you feel trapped, tethered, a cage made of velvet.

"took my shirt and then didn't show up to a single game after tha'. jus' gettin' wha' i'm owed. unless he's yer favorite."

how can he be your favorite when you know nothing about the sport they play and have no interest in knowing?

"too bad. we come as a package. get yer food, we've a place nearby."

(simon had been nowhere near as good-natured as johnny had about you leaving without a word. made you spit out apologies with swollen lips, only accepted the ones that came with a fluttering of your raw pussy around the splitting thickness of him while soap condescendingly cooed in your ear about lessons having to be learned the hard way.)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

personal happiness or what the fuck ever

bonus:

[gatoburr0]

Hehe hiii samurai shiver Hii um!!

Also yes I designed the tattoos from scratch and I still gotta do the one on her back 😪

[vaguely-concerned]

what a day lucanis is having during his recruitment mission. welcome back from your year at The Horrors camp man. your grandma is dead (you missed seeing her again by hours), your hometown is under brutal occupation, the demon situation is going to be permanent I'm very much afraid, and incidentally the reason everything seems to be on fire is that the world is actively ending. yeah you've heard about the blight? we're at double blight right now. how did his day start at 'I'm in hell' and get worse from there I'm crying

[stephanythedramaqueen]

Osha is so full of rage and anguish (love to see it) that what she needs is her balance. Someone who understands her pain yet doesn’t diminish it. Who doesn’t fight her fire with fire. Her calm, her comfort. Someone who doesn’t add even more anger to her space.

This is why I love this moment so much

The way he didn’t start to argue with her or yell at her for her to turn his side of the comms back on. He was clearly annoyed, but he let her be and allowed her her peace. She didn’t want to hear him yap? Fine, whatever you say beautiful

What a king.