#we are...as the youths would say...so back

[spoiled-bat13]

Beautiful work!! Amazing.

Please ignore my rant:

I think a huge part of the conversation about "women empowerment" with their wardrobe that Fandom misses is....there are no actual women in the conversation. The writers Kishimoto and Ikemoto are men. The artist who draws underage girls sexually is Ikemoto, a man. Female characters are not actual people with agency. They are constructs. And constructs who's every choice is ultimately decided by men in this case. Sarada isn't taking back her femininty, she isn't sticking it to a conservative society, she isn't being self expressive. She is a drawing, written and drawn by grown men, to be what grown men want her to be. This isn't to say men can't write empowered women. But Ikemoto himself can't. And Kishimoto had 20 years to try and...well. the evidence is all right there. We love our Naruto-verse girls DESPITE Kishimoto, not BECAUSE of him, most of the time. (For most of us)

Ikemoto was handed a solid design of 12 year old Sarada from Kishimoto, and tossed it away to put her in a panty-showing mini skirt, super super high heels (not even low kitten heels adult Tsunade wore as an iconic "I'm so high-level I can wear impractical shoes and still whoop Orochimaru's ass" way) and tube tops! He chose to sexualize Sarada in how he posed her (oh gif the poses, they were so bad!) and how he would dress her. He showed she wasn't engaging with her environment with her choices, she was dressed up as an object for a male artist to depict for the viewer.

That's the problem. The problem isn't shorts. The problem isn't "a little skin" because Ino had her belly out, but so did Sai. Sakura wore shorts, but they were athletic-wear. Just small redesigns, like this beautiful OP, show that the problem isn't bear arms or shorts or the silhouette, but the whole package. The one shoulder exposed, the inwardly turned toes, the super short shorts, the tube top that is impractical and every woman can tell you, the platformed heels, the dangling earrings, the way her eyeglasses are looked over top of with sultry eyes rather than looked through as visual aids as they are mrsnt to be. A kunoichi can be iconic for having ONE of these impractical elements. Let her have the long hair that would be in the way, but she is otherwise dressed practical. Let her wear the long earrings, but give her flat shoes. Let her have her belly button out, but cover the rest of her in the mesh and wrappings. Like???

Ikemoto just...isn't it. And this OP did an amazing job to take the design and stay true to the theme while making it functional, iconic, youthful, not prude (becauae being covered up isn't good and uncovered bad, things aren't that black and white) but it's still age appropriate and fun.

Forgive me OP, if my rant is out of place. You just did such an amazing job and I have a lot of opinions and feelings.

The truth is that I don't usually do redesigns, normally if I don't like it I let it go but, seriously, all the designs that this character has had have been so sexualized and not at all functional for a ninja that her specialty is combat, and I understand that a female character She can be sexy and a fighter but, in this case, the type of wardrobe does not match the situation or the personality of Sarada's character

That's why I decided to make my version, (they appeased not to say that it's better, but that it would be something more functional and also more attached to the style of clothing from the Naruto universe)

[steddieas-shegoes]

the necklace

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'the cutting edge'

rated m | 983 words | cw: implied/referenced drug use, implied sexual content | tags: rock star eddie, famous corroded coffin, figure skater steve, flirting

also on ao3

⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️

Figure skating competitions aren’t exactly their thing. They’re about as out of place as Wayne was when he went to Coachella to watch Corroded Coffin headline the big stage.

But world champion and two time gold medalist Steve Harrington is using their song for his little routine, so obviously they need to be there to support him. That’s what Chrissy said, at least.

“It’ll look good for you to be there,” she’d said when Eddie tried to argue that they would be wasting time and money. “And anything we can do to make you look good is important.”

And he couldn’t argue that because, well. He fucked up.

Got caught doing lines off the back of a toilet at a club with two women sucking him off. Rockstar stuff. Something he really never did and of course one of the few times, he got caught. There were pictures.

Chrissy has been in recovery mode for the entire band ever since.

They’ve been doing anti-drug campaigns for schools as if that’s even an effective way to keep the youths from getting high on whatever they can find. Eddie made an official statement on camera about practicing safe sex and apologizing for taking advantage of the women who most definitely were there willingly. The band issued a statement that Eddie was on a short leash and if another incident occurred, he’d be on his way to rehab.

Which is dumb because he doesn’t have a drug problem, or a sex addiction, or anything the tabloids say. The guys know that. Chrissy knows it. But they have to do whatever will keep them in a positive light so they can book arenas on their next tour.

Apparently, going to this skating competition will help.

It’s not boring, surprisingly. It’s just not how Eddie wants to spend his Friday.

He watched a few of Steve’s routines in preparation.

The guy is hot. Like, really hot. Somehow very muscular and light on his feet at the same time. Eddie can see why he’s so popular.

What shocks him most is that Steve usually dances to pop songs and 80s ballads for his competition routines and suddenly he decides to bring out one of their slower, but still dark songs. It doesn’t make sense.

Until it does.

When Steve takes the ice, the crowd stands, cheers so loud it makes Eddie’s chest vibrate. He doesn’t expect it, and it’s clear Gareth, Frankie, and Jeff don’t either. He’s in all black, only one small piece of color standing out.

A red guitar pick necklace.

Eddie’s head turns to Chrissy, who is conveniently ignoring him.

He turns back to watch as the music starts. He wrote this song with Jeff, fucking around in the back of his van when they were still just trying to book whatever bar would have them. It evolved into something else when they actually got to record it in a real studio, something more haunting and liminal when compared to the rest of their track list.

Steve glides across the ice, jumps and falls perfectly in sync to the crescendo of the guitar and drum solo. Eddie’s fascinated, can’t look away from the masterpiece happening in front of him. He almost can’t believe he gets to see someone make such beautiful art from their song.

When Steve stops, Eddie stands and yells, clapping louder than everyone around him.

“I need to see him,” he says to Chrissy when the announcers have given the scoring that places him in first. “Can you get me down there?”

She smirks and nods, like she’s planned this exact reaction. She couldn’t have.

Could she?

***

The medal ceremony is long, but watching Steve take gold is a memory Eddie will have forever.

Chrissy does manage to bring them all down to congratulate him after he does media. He looks worn out by the time he gets to them, still in his outfit and skates.

Still wearing Eddie’s necklace.

“How did you get that?” Eddie asks instead of saying hello or congratulations.

Steve smirks. “Pulled some strings.”

He starts to take it off, but Eddie stops him. The room goes silent.

“Looks pretty good next to that gold medal. You should keep it,” Eddie doesn’t know what he’s saying. That’s his lucky necklace. He hasn’t gone onstage without it in years. “Maybe it’ll bring you more gold.”

“Ah, well. I’m retiring. These knees aren’t gonna hold out much longer,” Steve half-jokes. “Plus, it’s time to let others shine.”

“But you’re so talented!”

“I’ll coach for a bit. Pass it on. That’s the beauty of the sport,” Steve explains.

He’s so pretty. Eddie wants to stare at him all night.

“Jesus, he’s embarrassing,” Gareth says behind him.

“What?” Eddie turns, glaring at him.

“You said it out loud, dumbass.”

Eddie turns bright red. “Oh.”

Steve steps closer, a solid two inches taller than him in his skates. He smiles down at Eddie.

“Let me get changed and have my coach find us a spot for dinner. Wouldn’t want you to have to stop staring.”

Eddie’s never been charmed like this before. He feels faint.

“Yeah! Okay. The guys can just head back to the hotel or whatever,” Eddie tries to sound nonchalant, fails.

“Oh my god,” Frankie groans. “Please don’t do something stupid.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Steve promises, never taking his eyes off Eddie. “Wouldn’t want him to get distracted before I can get my mouth on him.”

Eddie’s eyes widen and Chrissy claps her hands once.

“Alright! Have fun! Be safe! Save it for a hotel room!”

She ushers the guys away quickly and Eddie’s grateful for it. They shouldn’t see him blundering this.

Steve leans in and kisses his cheek. “You’re gonna be fun. See you in ten.”

Eddie’s left standing there with pink cheeks and a determination to be fucked within an inch of his life later.

[anthoscope]

chapter i: coincidental⠀( l.cy )

pairing ⠀anton lee x gn!reader

genre/s⠀fluff, slice-of-life, university!au

warning/s ⠀cursing, mentions of murder (during a conversation)

wc ⠀1.4k

a/n ⠀chapter one up ^^ feel free to play the song “endless song” by no reply for a more cinematic experience lol. i hope you enjoyed this one! taglist is still open fyi ( to those who wanted to be added tysm for taking an interest to this :(( <33 ) just comment or send an ask if you want to be a part of it

synopsis ⠀it’s a universal experience to have one person you always encounter on campus, a person you might know or not. for you, it’s anton lee—your first-semester crush, whose familiar face keeps turning up wherever you are.

Strange, you thought, but not impossible not ever seeing this one guy you’ve been crushing on ever since that university festival night.

It was the first semester of a new academic year. Your cluster of the humanities band performance for the battle of the bands contest was what one would expect for a cluster with fine arts courses. Explosive, unique, and deserving of loud applause and awes, especially with all of the high notes and the way each member shone all throughout the performance.

This was a sure win for your cluster.

While up next were the engineering cluster. You’d heard rumors here and there that they came unprepared, that they only gathered people through desperate pleading and were purely involuntary—the opposite of your cluster, who had to hold auditions, you really expected nothing.

You were still recovering from cheering so loud especially that your friends, Sohee and Seunghan, who were the vocalists in the band, jokingly threatened you that if they didn’t hear your voice screaming their names, they’ll hunt you down. It was already tiring enough to walk around the campus, scanning through all the booths and events, and you’d rather lie down on your bed in your dorm room and recover from the hell prelims dragged you through.

But you don’t take chances.

You cleared your throat and scanned through the fancam videos you made of them, which included your enthusiastic screams. Just as you were sending the proof of you cheering your cluster’s band, the engineering cluster’s band enters the stage and plugs up their instruments.

"If there was a criteria for being good looking, they'd have a high score for that one, for sure." The person on your right commented, and you looked up.

“Wow.” was all you could say. They were eye-catching for sure.

Their concept was youthful, especially with their outfits: plaid shirts, jeans, worn-out sneakers, and white tees. It’s a concept that’s easy to pull off if they prepared at the last minute.

“Hello, this is the engineering cluster, and we will be performing Endless Song by no reply.” The frontman vocalist nervously introduced, and they immediately started after the drummer gave their cue.

Their performance was clumsy, but in a way that felt natural. The piano opened soft and mellow, and the pianist’s nasal boyish voice filled the first verse. Then the bass, drums, and guitar swept in with the second verse. It wasn’t perfect, but with polish, you thought, they could score higher.

Though your eyes kept drifting back to one guy.

The bassist.

He kept on looking at his bass, as if focused on what note to play next even though he managed to play well when he looked at anywhere but the crowd in front of him. There was a microphone stand in front of him, meaning he was also singing.

But when?

The bass and piano stayed during the bridge, and he sings, a small voice coming out, shy—as if confessing something not meant to be heard by many.

You realized you'd been tapping your foot to the beat but stopped. The bass's quiet thud carried under your shoes, small vibrations that made you feel awake in a way you couldn’t name. The spring night air felt cold, but the spotlight on him was warm, bright enough that you couldn’t look away.

He starts a little shakey but slowly closes them as he focused.

"Did you know? I called quietly. This little voice the song that made me dream."

Suddenly, it's hard to look away.

He sang the rest of the chorus, now a little braver and a little surer, and you caught the moment his eyes opened, catching the light. A quick, fleeting smile, a bit infectious, like he was finally breathing.

The bass, guitar, and drums rose and fell, the piano steady for the outro. Then he looked at the crowd—really looked—and your breath hitched when his gaze stopped somewhere near you.

Just for a moment, it felt like he was looking at you.

"I will always sing for you. The endless stories, the passing time, your back-image—with this song."

The piano continued playing, now softer as it comes to an end. He looked away, smiling brightly, shoulders loosening as they all bowed.

You clapped too, slow, chest still fluttering like it hadn’t decided to calm down.

And ever since then, that was the last time you saw him.

“Hey, speaking of the university festival,” Sohee started, smirking behind his coffee cup. “Didn’t you have a crush on that bassist from engineering?”

You groaned, leaning back in your chair. “God, Sohee, must you bring that up—”

“You never ran into that bassist guy again?” he pressed on, grin widening, his eyes turning into a crescent line.

“Yeah,” Seunghan added to the teasing, leaning forward over the table. “You’ve been oddly quiet about your festival crush these days.”

You picked at the corner of your notebook and avoiding their gaze, trying not to sound too defensive.

“Guys, it wasn’t even that serious,” you muttered. “I just thought... maybe I'd see him around. I mean, our buildings are literally next to each other. But nothing. Not even once.”

"Is our Y/N in love?" Sohee gasped, and you gave him a disgusted look.

“Damn,” Seunghan whistled softly, “I can even spot random biology majors sometimes. But engineering students? These STEM majors are like walking corpses even in broad daylight. But still, never seeing him? That’s odd.”

“Face it, Y/N. Maybe the guy’s avoiding you,” Sohee teased, resting his chin on his palm.

“The joke is getting old, Jimmy Lee,” you shot back.

“No, but seriously. He reminds me of uncanny valley,” Seunghan continued, eyebrows scrunched. “Backstage that night? Your bass guy was staring into the void like he’d unlocked the fourth dimension.”

You let out a small laugh, ignoring how the words “your bass guy” made something in your chest flutter.

“By the way, what electives did you get for the second semester?” you asked, moving on.

“Uhm, I took Virtual Communications. Easy A, I heard,” Sohee said.

Seunghan nudged him, eyes wide. “Ten to noon under Mr. Myung?”

“What the fuck, we’re in the same class!” They jumped up from the couch, celebrating like kids on a pogo stick.

You rolled your eyes, a chuckle slipping out. These idiots could be cute sometimes.

Just when they weren’t grilling you.

“What about you?” they asked, turning to you with matching grins.

“Uhm…I took Ethics.”

The drop of their grins.

“Are you kidding me? Don’t tell me it’s at eight in the morning,” Seunghan said.

“Yeah?”

They threw their hands up.

“Existential crisis before breakfast, huh.” Seunghan sighed.

“Ah, yes, the age‑old question: why is murder wrong?” Sohee said.

“Bro, that’s a shit schedule you got right there,” Seunghan added.

“I feel like I’m getting ganged up on like a youngest child,” you muttered.

“We should’ve gone on Facetime when we were pre-registering,” It must end that way, right?

You didn’t tell them you had checked. That you’d hovered over other classes but ended up picking ethics.

A knock interrupted the teasing, your senior, Johnny, poking his head in.

“Good work today, everyone. Really. Y/N, your script was smooth this time.” He gave a small nod. “And you two—less bickering on Y/N today. Progress.”

Sohee and Seunghan exchanged a playful glare, pretending to be offended.

“Anyway, pack up and go home. I’ll be doing some minor touch-ups for transition today, and I'll upload it tonight. The station’s ours again at 3 PM and please,” he paused, for dramatic effect. "Save some energy again for tomorrow’s recorded session."

We all laughed, the tired kind that slipped out at the end of a long day. We bid our farewell, and thank yous.

Seunghan stretched, nearly knocking over an empty coffee cup. Sohee smacked his arm, convincing him something about trying “shadow boxing” for tomorrow’s gimmick, and you tucked your phone into your pocket, feeling the leftover buzz of the shift slowly fade.

It was already six in the evening—the usual time you wrapped up and the campus was still alive.

The station always felt strangely quiet after sign‑off: the red “ON AIR” light turned off, the leftover hum of equipment settling back into silence.

Somehow comforting, somehow lonely.

You and your friends walked out, splitting off in different directions after a round of goodbyes.

The festival felt far away.

Your silly crush, even further.

You remembered you had to wake up early tomorrow.

Gosh, was picking ethics really that bad?

──⠀taglist ⠀.⠀@jkeydiary ⠀@feymine ⠀@dreamiestay

──⠀next page to⠀.⠀masterlist⠀chap i⠀chap ii⠀chap iii

© anthoscope. do not plagiarize, repost, and translate. all rights reserved.

[ranticore]

wait one more sorry. what's centaur pop music and countercultural music been like through the ages - roughly similar to our world's? how has the restrictive and ultra-religious setting of ironwall influenced things like punk subcultures (if any have emerged)?

yep there's always been a culture and counterculture aspect to it all and it does roughly align in terms of how acceptable it's been to diverge from the traditional values their culture was built on. they just have slightly different traditional values. as mentioned in some other posts, homosexuality is accepted as a childish phase and heterosexuality/gender mixing is harshly policed so it's not uncommon for Good Decent Pop Singers to reference past gay love affairs before ultimately settling down in adulthood with a mature heterosexual partner. it might raise more eyebrows for a male pop star to sing about hanging out with lots of girls than it would for him to sing about his youthful days touring the countryside with a polycule of boys - so you can see what kinds of themes might start to sound Edgy to an ironwall audience beyond the usual modesty stuff

for the harpy band i've been messing with, i actually wrote some of their story because i wanted to have an insider look at the underground music scene of the 60s-70s era. the story starts with the band being arrested because the lead singer convinced the band to play with uncovered wings strictly as a publicity stunt to get more eyes on their music. and there's this exchange where they discuss the music scene outside ironwall:

"I'm just saying," Ed said, delicately holding the two pieces of his bass aloft as they stepped over a puddle of brown water welling up from grates in the kerb, "it's all a ploy to keep us from the truth. There are no popular bands. They're made up to keep real music like ours underground."  "The Beatles, the Monkees," Roger said. "You think that's real?" Ed said with a snort. "Madey-up fake shit. Opium of the masses."  "The Beatles played in Ironwall last year," Hammy said, glancing over his shoulder.  "Yeah, but do you know anyone who seen them?" Ed said.  "No, but-" "Exactly." "They're real," Stef said, "I talked to a hen at the record shop who swore up and down one of them winked at her in the concert." "Oh, so they got four nice models trotted up on stage to keep the fans pacified-" "Why would they bother doing any of that shit, Ed? Ironwall council didn't even want 'em. They played in a field miles out of town."  "That's what they want you to think, Hamish."  "I don't mind their music," Rodge said, reaching into his shroud to fumble at the sack of belongings he'd been reunited with at the station.

in this time period, we are in the midst of a small free love Moment which pushed back against the dominant culture harder than anything has before or since (the culture swung hard back to conservatism in the 21st century). so we can have things like the band intentionally breaking modesty laws because it will definitely drum up sales and get more eyes on them, and even mainstream bands from outside ironwall coming to play there without much pushback. but there were still a sense of suspicion towards these outsiders and some people felt it was some kind of psy-op to dilute ironwall culture with weird foreign music

the ironwall & non-ironwall music scenes are not strictly segregated which leads to scenarios of ironwall music (especially that which references gay relationships) being harshly censored in the south of the country where the population is mostly human, with records being resold in Adult Shops and often mass-destroyed by conservatives. meanwhile the reverse is a bit more acceptable, with southern pop records and musicians coming north to Ironwall gaining this exciting, racy, rebellious air even when the song is just like. I Wanna Hold Your Hand.

because the dominant global hegemon is still heteropatriarchy, ironwall musicians struggle to break into the mainstream - and rarely, if ever, manage to. so 'popular ironwall musician' means popular in ironwall but virtually unheard-of in the rest of the country let alone the rest of the world.

following the 70s there was a turn back to harsher social norms (yes harsher than Being Arrested For Wings Out) and ironwall citizens adopted the signifiers of the punk movements brewing elsewhere. hypermasculinity was in again and this was reflected in stricter sex segregation throughout the 80s and 90s so the androgynous looks of punk fashion (and goth fashion, related) were extremely rebellious as was any kind of actual gender subversion. homosexuality was a normal part of being a manly man or feminine woman but transsexuality never ever was, so it wasn't surprising that the most active trans spaces of the late 20th century were in these punk and goth scenes. but it's important not to equate punk with unilateral progressivism. there were plenty of conservative punk bands and scenes who'd organise beat-downs whenever they felt challenged.

[smtown-tourist]

Fan Theory about the Saja Boys’ Backstories:

Since I’m on my K-pop Demon Hunters kick right now, I thought I’d share my theories about the other Saja Boys’ backstories of how they became demons.

First off, I want to say that I do lean on the side of thinking that they were a K-pop boy band that sold their souls for fame, connecting back to that picture we saw in the Doctor’s office. Otherwise, how else would they all be musically talented? So, collectively, yes, I do think they damned themselves in that way.

However, I do think there is more to that. I think each member had an additional request they asked of Gwi-ma that further made them into demons and possibly made them more evil. Jinu only having the one request, I think, helped save some of his humanity, why he still had a soul to give Rumi in the end.

I think their names give us a hint as to what they sold their souls for. These theories also connect back to how they could’ve sold their souls for fame because what they asked for would’ve helped them in that aspect. I’ll go in alphabetical order.

Abby

Abby’s name, obviously, stems from him having a perfect body, particularly rock-hard abs. It’s safe to say that he is the Visual in the group. In order to be a successful Visual, you must have a handsome face and body to match. We can see that he can sing and dance but perhaps his body never met the standard of a K-pop idol. Maybe he used to struggle with his weight or was super scrawny. I think Abby sold his soul in order to be the Best Visual.

Baby

Baby’s name heavily implies that he is the Maknae of the group. Fans adored him from the start for his youthful look. He quickly realized that success in the K-pop Industry comes from being young, being the “baby.” Yet, as we all know, being young and looking young doesn’t last forever. I think Baby sold his soul in order to remain young, not only to preserve how he looks but to also preserve his body so it won’t wear out with age.

Mystery

Throughout the entire movie, we never see Mystery’s face. Because of this, I have two theories for why he sold his soul.

As we know, it’s hard for an idol to keep their lives a secret and even harder for them to keep their images squeaky clean. At the fansign, Mystery barks at one of the fans. While it’s possible that this was meant to be humorous, his “demon side” peaking out, I believe that it hints at Mystery possibly having a wild side, something that would tarnish his idol reputation and cause a scandal. That’s why I think Mystery sold his soul in order to preserve his image and never get caught - to save face.

The second theory has to do with privacy. After debuting, Mystery quickly realized how invasive fans can be, wanting to know everything about him and possibly intrude on his personal life. Eventually it got to be too much and he wanted to return to his normal life. However, that’s virtually impossible when everyone recognizes you. That’s why I think Mystery could’ve sold his soul in order to hide his identity and never again get recognized for being an idol.

Romance

For Romance, I also have two theories. The first is based around the Idol Dating Ban. I think after becoming an idol, Romance realized how hard it would be to not only date but find true love. That’s why my first theory is that Romance sold his soul in order to date without it having any consequences on his idol career.

My second theory has to do with the fans. An idol’s fame is largely dependent on them being loved by their fanbase. Romance became dependent on this love: obsessed with being biased by their fans and afraid of losing their love. That’s why I also think he might’ve sold his soul in order to be able to charm every fan and make them love him no matter what.

So those are my theories. Keep them or throw them away. I hope the creators give us something in the future that reveals their backstories so we can find out if any of our theories are true or not. A spin-off series would be preferred but at this point, I’ll take anything.

[honeyndsage]

HEAVY HANDS, HEAVY HEARTS

Chapter 3- Sparring Words

Summary- Kaila Marshall has made it a long way from her hard upbringings in Queens, NY to her uprising boxing career. She is proud to say she did it all on her own. Her last winning match has brought quite a stir lately when her opponent dismisses her victory. Leading the media to portray her as an “angry, typical black woman.” Being the newly crowned heavyweight champion, Adonis Creed is again facing backlash and rumors questioning his loyalty and legacy after being trained by his father’s rival. When their worlds collide both parties feel a deep and unexpected connection they’ve never felt before leading to complications and maybe even confessions…

Slow burn, tension, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, maybe smut

Nova’s notes - I’m really satisfied with the personality of Kaila , especially since she’s so different from me so it’s nice to branch out. Idk how long I want this series to be , any suggestions?

It’s been three days since the articles and news came out about Kaila’s and Adonis’ “relationship”, its also been 3 days since she spoke to Adonis. She’s hoping since he hasn’t tried to reach out or anything that he finally realized he got too into his head. Honestly, how did he think she was going to reach to what he said, they barely know each other and there’s no way she could peak a man like Adonis’ interest. Kaila knew she wasn’t ugly to say, she just wasn’t the most feminine you know especially with training with mostly guys as a child it’s hard for her to show that side. So she wonders what was it that Adonis saw in her that made him say what he said with so much confidence.

Amidst the ongoing rumors, her agent had convinced her to go this youth boxing tournament, said it would better her image. It was supposed to be simple, shake hands, hand out trophies, do a quick interview with ESPN, then finally leave. But the night would be everything but simple for Kaila Marshall.

Kaila wore some simple jeans with a black zip-up, small gold hoops, and her hair curls were out. She never really knew what to wear to these types of events, she didn’t need to wear a dress but she also didn’t want to show up in gym shorts. She looked composed enough, but her jaw was tight the moment she stepped in the gym and saw him.

She didn’t know he was going to be here , but she should’ve figured. He was wearing a fitted black tee with a leather jacket and jeans. She saw his gold chain glimmer while he was playing with a kid, throwing mock jabs at his ribs, he looked relaxed. Of course he did, she, on the other hand, hadn’t been able to relax since that moment outside her gym.

Kaila, I’m not asking you to be soft, I’m just asking if you feel it to.

She tried not to roll her eyes at the memory, it wasn’t the right time for this. It wasn’t the right anything. But she still found that her heart was ready to jump out of her chest when his eyes landed on hers from across the court. He just gave her a small nod, nothing too much.

She gave him nothing back and turned around as if he wasn’t there. Throughout the night she tried her best to avoid him. If she was thirsty and he was near the refreshment table , she waited till he was gone. She walked a circle around the whole building just to avoid walking past him on the way to the restroom. No matter how good she was an avoiding him , she still felt like her every move was being watched.

The tournament was over and now it was finally time for her interview that she’s been stressing about.

“Marshall, fans want to know of there is any truth ti the recent rumors about you and creed? You two were spotted looking pretty cozy after last week’s event , then again the morning after y’all were seen being intimate by your car I believe.”

She blinked twice, face unreadable. “Are we here to talk about kids or my personal business, either way this isn’t the place to talk about anyone being intimate.”

The reporter chuckled nervously. “ Well public sees two attractive pro boxers spending time together , they’re bound to get curious.”

“Yes and this is also being aired on ESPN is it not? They should be curious about how I won the last three fights in a row and what I’m doing to prepare for my next one,” Kaila stated sharply. “But I guess that isn’t intimate enough for headlines huh?”

The reporter kept a straight face and quickly shot back with, “Some say you’ve been… very defensive lately. Any thoughts on how you’re being perceived by the public?”

Before Kaila could begin to open her mouth, another voice came in from behind her. “Maybe if y’all stop twisting every strong woman into a stereotype there would be no miscommunication.”

She recognized his warmth quickly even if he had a snarky tone. Adonis.

He stepped into frame right beside you, calm but firm, his presence pulling everyone’s attention like gravity. Including yours.

“She gives one honest answer to an unprofessional question and suddenly she’s defensive? Nah man, y’all never call me aggressive when I say something cocky. That double standard shit is tired.” He looked straight into the camera , not being able to see your reaction.

The reporter cleared his throat. “Creed, is this you conforming there’s something going on between you and Marshall?”

You quickly opened your mouth, “Wha-, “I’m conforming that she deserves to speak without being dissected by y’all. Period.” He said while looking at Kaila then he turned to the camera again.

Silence.

The reporter continued. “Right, well-

“Interview over,” Kaila cut in, her voice was sharp enough to cut air. She turned on her heel and quickly walked away, fists clenched at her sides, heat crawling up her neck. This feeling wasn’t from embarrassment, but anger.

Kaila waited at Adonis’ truck. Not to thank him, but to say what needed to be said. When he finally approached, strutting through calmly, she spoke before he could even look her way.

“Don’t ever do some shit like that again.” She pointed at him. He stopped short, brows lifting. “What?”

She rolled her eyes. “Jump in like I’m a girl that needs saving,” She snapped at him. “You think you did something noble like you’re my hero or something, you think I should be groveling at my knees thanking you? No, you just made me look like i can stand up for myself!”

“I wasn’t trying to speak for you , Kaila, i just wanted to back you up-“

“I didn’t ask for backup Adonis , I’m a grown ass woman!” She was furious , face was nearly red and she couldn’t even notice the pleading look on Adonis’ face. “You think you’re the only one who gets underestimated ? I live in that space permanently. Every fight, every interview, every tweet, every guy like you who thinks they understand me. And i still stand up for myself, I’m more than capable.”

Adonis stayed quiet, jaw flexing.

“I don’t need a man stepping in like I’m fragile. Especially you. Not after everything.” Her breathing slowed.

Adonis kept eye contact with her, he moved two swift steps closer. His voice was low, calm. “You’re not fragile. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever seen. but being strong doesn’t mean you have to fight every battle alone.”

Her eyes blazed wider. “And you don’t get to make that decision if i do or not. I choose to, Because every time i let someone in , they either speak over me or, or walk away when things get hard.”

There was a pause. A shift in the air.

“Is that what you think I’d do? He asked. “I don’t know you,” she backed up from him. “And clearly, you don’t know me either.”

And with that, she walked away from his truck, got in her car, and drove off, for the second time.

This time Adonis didn’t move. He just stood there, hands in pockets, staring at the space she left behind. He’s finally realizing this isn’t a fight he could win with charm , or patience.

Not with her. Not yet.

[jamie-is-out-of-ideas]

I do have interest in engaging in media. What I’m talking about is oppressors who *kill* the people the oppress. I am a lesbian and when my youth pastor found out she outed me to two of my friends and told them I was going to hell. My little sister gets called racial slurs at school. I don’t know where you formed this idea about me but I don’t like what is portrayed in Arcane season 2 because if forgets that in the first season we saw how the system always abused people from the undercity, Vi’s parents were killed and she was beaten and abused in prison for seven years.

I’m a POC who is disabled (audhd, tics disorder, epilepsy) a lesbian, and gender fluid. I’m a minority in many aspects. Do you know how many people would look at me and think my life means nothing? They would be okay with me dying because of things I can’t control. you’d think you’d be able to understand my anger considering you’re a minority too. But you don’t even bother to think about that. You just call me ignorant and think my opinion is meaningless because I’m young.

The idea that change has to come from teaming up with your oppressor to fight a different oppressor makes you sound so ignorant. Do you understand that so many oppressed people right now are being killed? Being viewed as less than human, as aliens? Piltover is an authoritarian force, just because Noxus is ��worse’ doesn’t negate the horrible horrible things that Piltover has done to the undercity. I don’t want to have to reach out to people who view me as less than human and have to try and convince them that I matter and that im not the spawn on Satan.

Were you asleep during 2020? Do you not know what’s going on in places like the United Sates with Ice, do you not know about Sudan, or Palestine? Do you not know the history of basically every country in the world band how today’s society is all created by colonialism (oppression)?

why am I expected to forgive people who mean me and my family harm? America right now IS being run by a ‘real facist ’ it’s crazy you think that because one facist wants to conquer another facist that one is real and the other isn’t? In your books I fucking guess.

is it and ego thing for racial minorities in American to not want to be deported by ICE? Is it an ego thing for people wanting to fight back against cops when innocent people getting killed for their race? Are you saying rebelling against being killed is an ego thing??

btw Caitlyn is a dictator, she put Zaun under martial law, had people mass imprisoned, gassed civilians, called Zaunties “animals”. The gassing was done before she ever spoke to Ambessa. Idc about the sneak attack it’s bullshit. She gassed civilians. Get that through your head.

I’m not comfortable in an isolated box. All I want is for people like me to live happily and unapologetically as their authentic selves. But people in the world are keeping them from doing that. They don’t value the lives or people like me. What “common enemy” are we supposed to fight against in the real world? Genuinely what do you want us to do? What do you think we’re supposed to do? We don’t have a common enemy here. People are dying at the hands of their oppressors and they don’t have the opportunity for that “enemy of my enemy is my friend” shit. They’re just trying to survive, they just want to live as themselves but so many people just don’t want them to be happy for some fucking reason.

this isn’t about your Christian neighbors. This is about oppressive governments and police forces. I don’t understand how you didn’t get what I was saying.

I am so mad that Gert died in an enforcer uniform, she barely got to speak, and she seemed to be a plot device for other characters.

Arcane writers try to care about their black characters challenge (level: IMPOSSIBLE)

Rip Gert, I'll be spiteful on your behalf forever

[clovariia]

"someone new"

💝 wendy testaburger x kenny mccormick (kendy)

💝 1.4k words

💝 i wrote this fic and drew this art for my wonderful girlfriend @lesbuoyant's birthday! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RHYME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🥳🎂🎉

🔗 https://archiveofourown.org/works/51529138

[swampthingking]

andrew’s definitely gotten in trouble with his pr manager for tweeting things along the lines of:

“no mania inducing medication will compare to the euphoria i will feel the day donald trump drops dead”

[thepreciouspurrsian]

Mirage Basim vs Valhalla Basim

[akashavarma]

IF THE MOTHER WAS TAKING REQUESTS, THEN SHE REALLY HOPED IT WOULDN'T BE THE SPRING COURT NEXT - OR THE DAY. She endured summer with a vengeance ( one might even say penance ), but if she had been transported to a court that only had the daytime as its eternal setting or the court with the promise of summer in it's warmer days, Akasha will be really angry. She had yearned for home, yearned to go back to Gaea so they could rebuild in peace & quiet, unbothered & unobserved by the rest of Prythian.

of course, she knew such a hope was not in the cards for them.

No, they probably will go to another court when this barrier breaks - if not, then it would've broken with Kabir's death & they all would've gone back to their respective courts ( or the magic would have just released them from the confinement & they'd all have gone were they pleased to go ). "If Mother is listening, perhaps it would be wiser to ask her to drop us in Gaea. It's not so much yearning for home as it is the necessity to rebuild while we still can. You know the ancient saying: Iron forges while it's hot. The same is with us, right now. We may be very flammable ants under a magnifying glass, but this time would be most beneficial for us to slip back home to get our affairs in order." the moment the barrier breaks & they're allowed to leave... is the moment the second in command will winnow to Gaea.

time - & speed - was of the essence, truly.

Akasha lightly chuckled at the Priestess quip. "There is a different kind of darkness to be found in the blazing sun. Just because it's a court of perpetual Day, doesn't mean there aren't shadows or veiled threats to be found. If you look close enough, you'll find the whispers of it within each court. Frankly, I would prefer the Night court, if I had to choose somewhere outside of Gaea. Or the other two solars, Dawn & Dusk, again. Dusk is familiar & Dawn is the best compromise between the time of night & day. I'm fed up with seasonals, to be frank. Eternity of a single season is an absolute menace to endure." though if she ought to choose one to reside in, it would probably be the Autumn court.

at least the priestess was enjoying herself.

"That is true. I have been by the shore once or twice. I quite like watching the sea wash at the beach, but the heat is intolerable. Even during the night, the humidity in the air is too much for me to bear sometimes." she swam a few times to cool off, but she wasn't fond of sea-water. It wasn't fear of the depths, she had no such fears in her heart, but rather the saltiness of the sea clinging to her like a second, very itchy & dry skin. While she would immediately rinse herself in the pool in her suite, the ghost of it... lingered in the smell of dampness & something to undeniably ocean. "I hear the Hot Springs are a sight to behold. You will enjoy it there, I'm sure." she had no desire to explore Adriata - she'd been here a few times in her early youth to know all the sights had already been seen.

the question made her snort out in amusement.

"You are lucky for Enjy's company - canines are better than men could ever be. The last thing I need right now is a man telling me what to do or how to behave or do my job. They all have such a flaw in their character & I am not magnanimous enough to tolerate it at the present. Besides - men of Summer are ill suited for me as this court is ill suited for me." that isn't to say Akasha could not be swayed by someone - just that it wasn't something she is pursuing or caring about at the present. With everything that's happened to Kabir &, you know, Gaea as a whole, it'd be rather selfish & un-commandery to go traipsing around in pursuit of romance.

"Oh,  well,  if  it's  cabernet  consider  me  convinced."  Accepting  the  glass  now  comes  easy  after  it  has  been  poured,  days  long  since  passed  when  an  adolescent  Clarabel  Moreau  would  sneak  the  cabernet  her  parents  had  collected  from  the  courts.  To  be  drinking  it  now  in  a  way  that  was  not  alone,  well,  Clara  welcomed  it.  That  was  a  rule  --  to  never  drink  alone.

While  Akasha  had  not  found  comfort  in  the  openness  --  Clarabel  did.  In  fact,  the  Summer  Court  was  LOVELY  to  her  --  though  she  could  do  without  the  humidity.  It  wouldn't  be  permanent,  she  had  faith.  “If  the  Mother  is  taking  requests,  should  she  hear  me  now,  maybe  we  can  pray  to  drop  us  in  Spring  next.”  It's  said  a  little  louder  as  if  in  hopes  that  the  Mother  could  overhear  their  conversation  (  which,  she  probably  could  ).  Spring  was  one  of  my  favorites  to  visit,  I've  cousins  there.  Distantly."  The  Moreau  line  had  originated  in  the  Spring  Court  but  over  time  had  become  strongly  Gaean  in  blood  --  though  some  still  remained.  Clara  had  never  been  a  shapeshifter  though,  not  even  close.  Much  to  her  parents  dismay,  the  fae  had  never  been  what  they  wanted  until  she  was  far  out  of  their  reach.  "You're  not  wrong  to  be  wary  of  the  openness  though,  it  feels  as  if  everyone  is  staring  at  us  Gaean's  with  a  magnifying  glass.  Like  ants  prime  for  the  BURNING."  Another  breathe  was  let  out  because  it  was  true,  another  sip  taken  from  the  glass  of  wine.

"Imagine  you  say  we  have  long  and  dark  days  only  for  us  to  be  transported  to  Day  next,"  of  course,  Clara  knew  Akasha  was  being  metaphorical  in  speech  but  she  couldn't  help  but  joke  about  the  current  state  of  their  unpredictability.  A  play  on  it,  almost.

She  does  not  answer  how  she  is  at  first,  as  that  question  is  one  she  is  not  sure  how  to  answer  and  knows  it  to  be  rude  if  she  were  to  let  the  conversation  stall  too  long.  "I'd  found  much  to  do  there,  actually.  The  best  thing  about  being  in  these  different  courts  is  the  knowledge  accessible  to  us  at  our  fingertips.  The  gardens  here  are  also  BLOOMING.  I've  wanted  to  take  a  trip  to  the  Hot  Springs  soon  or  do  something  else  that  is  very  specific  to  Summer  while  we're  here."  Another  sip  from  the  glass.

"As  for  how  I  am?  I  count  my  roots  that  Enjy  has  been  with  me  this  journey  otherwise  I'd  WORRY  for  him  more  than  I  would  for  Gaea.  I'm  alright,  really.  I  could  complain,  of  course,  but  I  know  that  most  of  my  complaints  will  be  solved  sooner  rather  than  later  and  that  The  Mother  knows  my  woes.  I've  met  some  interesting  folk  on  this  journey  too.  Reconnected  with  ghosts  and  friends  of  past."  A  pause  before  a  grin  starts  to  illuminate  her  features.  "Have  you  found  anyone  to  pass  the  time  with  as  of  yet?  Anyone  suitable  of  being  Mister  Akasha  Varma?"

[madlori]

On being an older fangirl

I was probably 10 years old when I first conceived of what was, looking back, fanfiction. Me and my best friend would lie in bed together on sleepovers and I'd make up stories about what happened after the end of our favorite book, "The Westing Game." She'd ask me for more stories, and I'd tell her more, inventing them as I went along. "Then what?" she'd say.

I was 14 when I went to my first convention. I had discovered Star Trek: The Next Generation. It was 1987, and my youth pastor was a huge Trekkie. He took me to a one-day crappy Creation con, but it was amazing to me. I met Nichelle Nichols. My dad showed me the Trek movies. He and I watched TNG together.

When I went to college in 1991, my dad used to videotape TNG episodes onto VHS tapes and mail them to me, so I could keep watching (I didn't have TV in my dorm room).

By the time I was a senior, we had Trek watching parties in the dorm lounge, where the TV had cable. Star Trek: Voyager had started up, and I wrote a column about it for the college newspaper. I joined a mailing list about it, with people in it that I still know today.

I got my first computer that could go online in 1995. I was on newsgroups. I discovered Doctor Who. I went to Trek conventions where we still passed around fanzines containing fic and art and smutty K/S fan creations.

Then it was Harry Potter. Then there were websites. Then there was Geocities, where we could all make our own little spots. We organized them into webrings. We talked on newsgroups and mailing lists. There were fanfic archives. Then there was fanfiction.net.

Then...there was LiveJournal. And we could interact in entirely new ways. We could form communities, and debate things, and fight over canon, and get into ship wars. On LiveJournal, I met my best friend of 22 years. I was in her wedding. She's my sister of the heart (which is what she calls me).

Then there was Tumblr. And Twitter. And now there's Discord. But it's all the same.

I am the same.

I am still that little girl who made up fanfiction in her head to entertain her best friend. I am still the one who was amazed to find communities on the internet - which was so new, so raw, so uncommodified - where others like me could meet. I found there people to meet in real life.

I am still that twentysomething going to her first major convention, being told that someone loved my fic, being asked about my writing process.

I am still that thirtysomething watching something I wrote blow up. Seeing friends from other fandoms find me in new ones, finding them there, too. Forgetting which fandom I know someone from, because I've known them for twenty years.

I still know some of the people who created those early websites, those mailing lists, those archives. I still meet people in new fandoms who say "Oh, I read your fic in [fandom] fifteen years ago!" There's no feeling quite like having someone remember something you wrote for that long. Or meeting someone whose fic meant a lot to YOU, or who you talked with on rec.arts.drwho.creative in 1997.

Aging in fandom is a gift. Being middle-aged in fandom is a joy. Having people who still read what I write and ask "Then what?" is a blessing.

It breaks my heart that so many people see it as something to be ashamed of, when it is one of my life's greatest gifts.

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

David Tennant interview at the British LGBT Awards, June 2024 (x)

Int: You being an ally to the community isn't something new. You've been doing it, but recently you've obviously really stepped up for trans and non-binary people in a time that's so, so needed. What made you do that?

David: I don't know that I feel like I've done anything that I wouldn't just sort of be normally doing. I mean, it's for me it's just common sense that there's there should be any suggestion that people aren't allowed to live the life they want to live and and to be who they want to be with and to express themselves wholeheartedly. I mean, as long as you aren't hurting anybody else, everybody else just needs to fucking butt out. I don't really understand why...

Int: ...it's controversial.

David: Yeah, there is and the thing... the thing, if there's something that's particularly sobering and depressing, it's that certain debates are being weaponized by certain elements of the political class, often for no... it seems it's not ideological so much as opportunistic. And I just think that's pretty disgusting, really.

Int: I couldn't agree more. What message would you like to send out to trans youth?

David: Please don't feel like you're not loved and that you're not accepted and that you're not... you know, most people in the world are good and kind and just want you to be able to be who you are. Most people in the world don't really care. I mean... you know what I mean?

Int: We're all narcissistic.

David: Exactly. Everyone's so self obsessed that really, the sort of noise that comes from a certain area of the press and of the political class is... it's a minority. It really is. And please don't let that make you feel diminished or dissuaded or discouraged, because, you know, you just... you have to be allowed to be yourself, and you are, and you are yourself and you must thrive and flourish, and we're all here for it.

Int: Amazing. I think, yeah, it's so important .I think sometimes it feels like there's so many people, but it is a minority. It's such a minority.

David: It's a tiny bunch of little whinging fuckers that are on the wrong side of history and they'll all go away soon.

Int: Like what happened with gay people 20 years ago.

David: When I was a kid, when I was a kid, exactly. You know, I was at school when Clause 28 came in and it all felt like being gay was something to be terrified of. And gay men in particular were demonised as paedophiles and now that just feels historic and ludicrous and, I mean, I don't see all those... all those battles aren't won, but we're in a very, very different place. And I feel like.I feel like history is on a progressive trajectory and it might get knocked sideways now and again by people for all sorts of reasons, which are often quite selfish and quite, as I say, not coming from a place of any sort of genuine belief system, but other than a place of opportunism. And that's something that we... I hope that in 20 years time, we're talking about, you know, these culture wars as something of the past.

Int: I believe we will. I'm a huge Doctor Who fan, so.

David: Oh, good, me too!

Int: You are my Doctor.

David: Oh, thank you very much.

Int: But recently, obviously, you came back for the 60th anniversary and you got to work with Yasmin Finney.

David: Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Int: What was it like working with her?

David: Oh, she's brilliant. She's fantastic. Yeah. And she's in the show again now, she's back in it, so that's fantastic to see. She's lovely, talented, cool as a cucumber, articulate, brilliant. I learned a lot from her as an actor and also as someone who, you know, who's become a sort of de facto activist just because of who she is and where she is, and she becomes a sort of symbol of hope, and she's wonderful.

[thethief1996]

I can't stop thinking about the news out of Palestine. Israel is sieging al Shifa hospital. Videos of people's limbs being severed off are haunting (graphic video tw). The hospital has ran out of fuel and 39 babies in incubators are fending for their lives by themselves, because Israel has stationed snipers around the hospital and is shooting all medical crew that walks into their sight.

First, the narrative was Israel would never bomb hospitals. Now, the hospitals are Hamas bases. Then, we respect journalists. Now, we have a fucking kill list of journalists because they are Hamas collaborators. First, we are not letting fuel in until the hostages are released. Now, we are not accepting the hostages back because that would stop our ground invasion and let Hamas win. And I could go on about every single lie they're making up. If you look up "Hamas rape" on google, the first link leads to Times of Israel saying Israel has found no forensic evidence of sexual violence, and only one eyewitness testimony out of 3.5k people attending the rave. If you Google "Hamas beheaded babies" the top links say they have no evidence for the claim besides word of mouth from extremist soldiers. Israeli extremists think about the ugliest goriest scene they can make out in their sick heads, tell that to a international journalist and they run away with it like it's gospel.

And children are being killed in the name of these lies. Thousands are being displaced in images that remind me of the pictures of Tantura 75 years ago, with their hands up so the tanks don't shoot them. Amputees are leaving the hospitals in wheelchairs hours after their surgeries because they are being shot at. Elders who survived the Nakba on 48 are having to walk towards Southern Gaza on foot (imagine walking from one end of your city to the other on foot), displaced again. People are cheering for the haunting images of white phosphorus bombs being dropped over Gaza. Gazan workers who were arrested in the West Bank are being thrust back into the bombings wearing numbered labels.

This is not normal. We are seeing the early stages of the settler colonial genocide of an indigenous population. Native leaders who have visited Gaza say its refugee camps look eerily like reservations. We can stop this. For the first time we are able to see wide scale accounts from the hands of the people suffering the genocide, and Israel is so scared of it they have cut all communications in Gaza.

This is our litmus test. I think we have never seen more clearly, with Palestine, Armenia, Congo and Sudan how colonialism has made our world a rotten place to live in.

The South African apartheid collapsed due to boycotts. We have to do everything in our power to stop Israel's hegemony. Even talking to a group of friends about Palestine changes the status quo. There's no world where we can live peacefully if Israel accomplishes their goals.

Keep yourself updated and share Palestinian voices. Muna El-Kurd said every tweet is like a treasure to them, because their voices are repressed on social media and even on this very app. Make it your action item to share something about the Palestinian plight everyday. Here are some resources:

Al Jazeera, Anadolu Agency, Mondoweiss

Boycott Divest Sanction Movement

Palestinian Youth Movement is organizing protests and direct action against weapons factories across the US

Mohammed El-Kurd (twitter / instagram)

Muhammad Shehada (twitter)

Motaz Azaiza (instagram) - reporting directly from Gaza.

Hind Khudary - reporting directly from Gaza. Her husband and daughter moved South to run from the tanks but she stayed behind to record the genocide. The least we can do is not let her calls fall on deaf ears.

You can participate in boycotts wherever you are in the world, through BDS guidelines. Don't be overwhelmed by gigantic boycott lists. BDS explicitly targets only a few brands which have bigger impact. You can stop consuming from as many brands as you want, though, and by all means feel free to give a 1 star review to McDonalds, Papa John, Pizza Hut, Burger King and Starbucks. Right now, they are focusing on boycotting the following:

Carrefour, HP, Puma, Sabra, Sodastream, Ahava cosmetics, Israeli fruits and vegetables

Push for a cultural boycott - pressure your favorite artist to speak out on Palestine and cancel any upcoming performances on occupied territory (Lorde cancelled her gig in Israel because of this. It works.)

If you can, participate in direct action or donate.

Palestine Action works to shut down Israeli weapons factories in the UK and USA, and have successfully shut down one of their firms in London.Some of the activists are going on trial and are calling for mobilizing on court.

Palestinian Youth Movement is organizing direct actions to stop the shipping of wars to Israel. Follow them.

Educate yourself. Read into Palestinian history and the occupation. You can't common sense people out of decades of propaganda. If your arguments crumble when a zionist brings up the "disengagement of Gaza", you have to learn more.

Read Decolonize Palestine. They have 15 minute reads that concisely explain the occupation (and its colonial roots) and debunk popular myths, including pinkwashing.

Read on Palestine. Here's an amazing masterpost.

Verso Book Club is giving out free books on Palestine (I personally downloaded Ten Myths about Israel by Ilan Pappe. If you still believe in the two states solution, this book by an Israeli professor debunks it).

Call your representatives. The Labour Party in the UK had an emergency meeting after several councilors threatened to resign if they didn't condemn Israeli war crimes. Calling to show your complaints works, even more if you live in a country that funds genocide.

FOR PEOPLE IN THE USA: USCPR has developed this toolkit for calls, here's a document that autosends emails to your representatives and here's a toolkit by Ceasefire in Gaza NOW!

FOR PEOPLE IN EUROPE: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace targeting the European Parliament and one specific for almost all countries in Europe, including Germany, Ireland, Poland, Denmark, Sweden, Netherlands, Greece, Norway, Italy, Portugal, Spain, Finland, Austria, Belgium Romania and Ukraine

FOR PEOPLE IN THE UK: Friends of Al-Aqsa UK and Palestine Solidarity UK have made toolkits for calls and emails

FOR PEOPLE IN AUSTRALIA: Here's a toolkit by Stand With Palestine

FOR PEOPLE IN CANADA: Here's a toolkit by Indepent Jewish Voices for Canada

Join a protest. Here's a constantly updating list of protests:

Global calendar

Another global calendar (go to the instragram of the organizers to confirm your protest)

USA calendar

Australia calendar

Feel free to add more.

[yasministration]

think again - james potter

summary: on your fifteenth anniversary, sirius and remus gift you and james a photo album that has you gasping in embarrassment in front of harry and closing it with a loud slam. despite that, and the warning on the front page that says 'Harry, if you’re reading this, think again', your son can't help himself. He should have thought again. And again. And maybe perhaps just one more time. wc: 1.9k+ cw: suggestive themes and two explicit sentences, discussion of inappropriate images, mentions of r! and james having harry before marriage (when they were 18)

Harry Potter loved his family.

Even though he pretended to hurl when his dad whisked you for a kiss that had you swooning long after he pulled away, or pushed you away when you kissed him on the forehead, hugging him for a little too long in front of his friends, Harry could not have asked for better parents.

So when it was your and James’s fifteen year anniversary, Harry didn’t tease about how it seemed mathematically unusual that he was already past the fifteen year old mark. He didn’t take a close look at photos from your wedding, inspecting all of the photos baby Harry was in, curled in his grandparents' arms for most of the night. He didn’t make a comment about how his parents were only thirty three with a grown teenager, relatively younger in comparison to the parents of other kids in his year.

No, Harry did none of that. Instead, he watched fondly as his father held you in his arms on the couch, whispering sweetly to you.

He smiled, mimicking the looks on both his parents’ face. You were curled into James’s chest, staring at your husband with an unbeatable expression of love that only your James himself could out do. James was pressing sweet kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, and the briefest one on your lips before shying away from you. Harry caught glimpses of your youth in these moments; mischievous, affectionate, and definitely a pain to every one of the single friends around you.

The front door slammed open. You and James didn’t even pull away from each other as Sirius Black sauntered into the living room, a grinning Remus Lupin on his heels. Harry furrowed his eyebrows. His godfathers looked like they were up to no good.

“Happy anniversary.” Remus announced, shifting his weight back and forth from the balls to the heels of his feet. “Did you know,” Sirius started, pointing a finger up in the air, “That exactly fifteen years ago today, minus approximately ten minutes, the two of you were having sex?” You laughed in shock, asking “What?” and James pulled you closer to him. Harry grimaced in disgust.

“Yeah, we came to wake you up, said it’s bad luck to see each other on the day of your wedding. Door was locked, you told us it was too late, and we warned you that we would break into the room, but then we heard-”

“Stuff.” Remus cut him off, raising his eyebrows. You felt your cheeks go hot, remembering how your fiancé — back then — had spoken to your best friends while thrusting into you at an unforgivable pace. Your high pitched moan as you orgasmed had thankfully alerted your two friends not to enter the room.

“Don’t know much about bad luck now.” James chuckled, glancing down at you with a grin. “Anyway!” Remus announced, drawing your attention back to the two men. “We made you a little gift.”

“For every time we’ve seen too much!” Furrowing your eyebrows, you looked past your two best friends to glance at your son, sat alone on the couch, not even pretending not to be listening. His face was contorted in repulsion.

Sirius thrusted a thick photo album in front of you, and you shuffled in James’s hold to release your arms from the bundle of limbs you were wrapped in. You gently took the album from Sirius’s hands, smiling softly “Aw, thank you guys.”

“Oh, you won’t be thanking us for long.”

Concern overtook you at Sirius’s words, and you opened the photo book. The first page was blank, apart from writing that said ‘Harry, if you’re reading this, think again.’ James’s chest rumbled with a whole-hearted laugh. You glanced up at your best friends nervously before hooking your finger into the next couple of pages. You turned to a random page in the booklet.

You gasped loudly, immediately shutting the photo album.

The couple in front of you seemed proud with their work, a loud laugh escaping them both despite the horrified look you shot them. James was silent next to you, and you twisted your torso to look at his expression. His eyes were wide, cheeks so red you were sure his glasses would begin fogging up.

“Anyway, we’re going to take Harry out to diagon alley for a couple of hours. For no reason.” But Sirius turned around to wink at you as he left the room with Remus, who slung an arm over his shoulders. Harry wordlessly followed his uncles, shrugging.

He did not want to know what was in that album.

Would be the furthest thing from the truth. He itched to find out. So badly, that when he sipped at a milkshake in diagon alley with his godfathers, he was twitching in a poor attempt not to ask about their gift. So badly, that when he was left alone at home that night while you and James went for dinner, all Harry could think about was sneaking into your room and looking through those pages.

Giving up, Harry pushed himself off his bed, opening the door to his parents’s bedroom with one last look down the corridor. He took in a deep breath; no one was home. Harry briefly took notice to the empty potion vial on your bed side table, wrinkling his nose as he realised what it was. Birth control. Taking a couple of steps closer, Harry peeked into the open drawer, looking for the black leather of the photo album.

It wasn’t there.

He rounded the undone bed to open his dad’s bedside drawer. Bingo. Harry reached for the leather-bound album, fingers curling around the curve of the album’s spine. He leaned back on the wall behind him, sinking down onto the floor. No way was he going to sit down on that bed. Harry flicked open the album, and immediately, his cheeks went red.

His godfathers knew him too well.

‘Harry, if you’re reading this, think again.’ He did, extending his arm to tip the book back into the drawer, before shaking his head and snatching it back. He flipped the page over, and his breath immediately hitched in his throat at the sight. Sirius’s words from his morning echoed in his head; they made sense now. ‘For every time we’ve seen too much!’ The two photos that took up the space of the first page of the book dated back to your time at Hogwarts.

Harry knew you and James began dating within the first month of your fifth year at Hogwarts, but you didn’t look fifteen in this photo. Maybe seventeen, possibly older. But it was hard to tell with the way your faces were hidden. Of course, the images moved – much to Harry’s dismay. In the first photograph, James was carrying you, and your legs were wrapped around his torso, the skirt of your uniform riding up your legs, creasing under James’s hands, which were groping your backside.

You were pressed up against the wall of a dark hallway, your arms tightly wrapped over James’s shoulders, his glasses smushed between your faces as you made out deeply. The image of your tongues flattening against each other was grotesque. Harry had seen his parents make out before – a quick snog when you thought no one was looking. James would tug you closer to him by the wrist, wrapping an arm around your waist when you turned your attention to him.

It was often in the kitchen, if not the backyard, but James would press his lips against yours, and you would part your lips to welcome his tongue into your mouth for a quick, greedy lick against yours. James would pull away, his trousers slightly tighter around his crotch, and you would wipe the space around your lips to conceal any evidence.

But this kiss, in this image, was like nothing he’d seen before. Your body was moving against James with a desperation he hadn’t seen before, his dad’s hips frantically grinding against your centre as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, your tongues eagerly battling for control over the kiss.

He couldn’t imagine it, but the next photo was much worse, and he instantly regretted not listening to the note on the front. Harry huffed. There should have been a second warning. By looking at the second image, Harry decided that you and James had just turned eighteen. His dad’s hair was had looked to be freshly cut, not long like the previous photo, almost an afro around his head. Here, it was trimmed neatly, curls soft, the stubble on his face barely there. You wore shorts, exposing your legs, and Harry could see that you had the cheeky smiley faced tattoo on your thigh, which you’d admitted to getting on your eighteenth birthday with his dad, Remus and Sirius.

You were clearly at a party in this photo, with drinks littering the kitchen countertop in front of you, both you and James looking like anyone would after hours of partying. One hand on the countertop, the other reaching up into the cupboard over you, you were biting your lip struggling to get something as you stood on your tippy toes. You raised a knee over the side of the counter, top, and just as you were about to push yourself off the ground, a hand rested on your hip, halting your movements.

James pressed his body against yours as he reached above you, arm stretching up higher than yours to grab a bag of chips for you, wedged in the cupboard. James unnecessarily pressed himself onto his tippy toes, stumbling forward as he lost balance, his crotch dragging against your ass before he fell flat on his feet. Your eyebrows raised in the photo, but you smirked, spinning around and looking at James with a slight tilt of your head. James’s face flushed, a shy look overtaking his features as he poorly attempted to maintain confidence.

Harry almost heard your hum as you stared down his father, just a boy in this photo, before your fingers curled around the fabric of his t-shirt, pulling him against you. James’s body pressed against yours and you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his. The bag of chips fell to the floor as both of James’s hands came to rest on your hips, already deepening the kiss with you. It was difficult for Harry to believe that those two teenagers in the image would be having a child that same year. Him.

Just before Harry could witness something he didn’t want to see, the image flashed, and the entire scene repeated itself. That’s enough, Harry decided, but he couldn’t help but wonder what had made his mother gasp so loudly as she shut the photo album. He tried mimicking your earlier movements, fingers dipping past a couple of pages. Triumphantly, he turned these pages over, but the second he caught a glimpse of his dad on his knees, back to the camera, Harry made a disgusted noise, shutting the book with a loud slam.

He scrambled back on his feet, dropping the book in his father’s drawer and closing it before rushing out of the room to return to his bedroom, forgetting that his parents’ bedroom door hadn’t been open when he first came in.

Luckily for him though, you and James were too busy kissing your way up the stairs and into bed to notice the detail.

taglist (tagged both the marauders + golden trio taglist because it's centred around harry and james): @ravisinghs-wife, @amatoanima, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @superlegend216, @treefairy-28, @kitkatkl, @rory-cakes, @juliet-f017, @fl0weryannie, @tiaajosephin, @why-am-i-like-this18, @theoraekenslover, @animalcrossingshameless, @azure-drag0ness, @dream-alittlebiggerdarling, @dearlizzies, @girlontheblock, @matcha-kitty13, @thenasoneshots, @cakiebleh, @ravisinghs-wife, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @treefairy-28, @superlegend216, @kitkatkl, @juliet-017, @fl0weryannie, @tiaajosephin, @dream-alittlebiggerdarling, @dearlizzies, @potterheadlovespotter, @matcha-kitty13, @thenasoneshots

[drchucktingle]

just heard that BRIAN WILSON has left this timeline and dang it hits hard. there are so many thoughts trotting through my mind, but id like to take a moment to talk about my personal connection to this and what brian wilsons music meant to me, so bear with me buckaroos.

back when i married sweet barbara i was lucky enough to gain a family member who we will call TOM. tom was a spirit with a trot unlike anyone i have ever known. he was born into a body that they said would likely not live past his youth, but he kept on TROTTIN into old age.

eventually however, tom fell. he was declared to be in a vegetative state with little hope of waking. it was devastating for sweet barbara and for me. visiting him in the hospital taught me a lot of things, and it has always stuck with me that you can learn from someone AFTER they have left too 

anyway, toms favorite band was THE BEACH BOYS so what i did a few times is id go to the hospital with two pairs of headphones and put them on him and me and listen to those sweet harmonies for a while. i tried to stay away from the sad songs but theyd slip in. id cry.

i knew it didnt really matter because he was gone, this was just his body, but i did it anyway and SOMETHING about that made me feel guilty, like i was REALLY doing this for me. HOW DARE I? eventually he was taken off life support and i still think about those trips whenever i hear the beach boys

eventually i started to understand something about not just dying, but living. grief is a process and journey for someone else AND for us, and also, ITS OKAY TO JUST BE THERE. we are always trotting out rituals, and the fact they are just rituals does not take away from them.

there is a theme in BURY YOUR GAYS about art not really belonging to anyone, how it weaves through time. upcoming book FABULOUS BODIES is even MORE about the events im discussing. BOTH these books are a tether from brian wilson recording sloop john b, to tom in the hospital, to me, and then to you

so we are left with this chain of CREATION AND LOVE that we will never know. brian wilson had no idea sitting at that piano how far every note would resonate through time, BUT THEY DO RESONATE AND THEY CARRY LOVE SO SO FAR. my point in all of this is to say never forget how far YOUR notes resonate

we are creating every moment as solo performers, AND as a choir. so i want to say a profound and sincere THANK YOU for all the moments that you have made, and to brian wilson specifically for ‘god only knows.’ me and tom had a blast listening to it for one last spin. enjoy the next timeline brian