hey man how much are you in the red? do you only have paypal or do u have another donation site?
im good now. that particular story is from a few weeks ago and i’ve since gotten my accounts out of the red. im just venting frustration.
im currently transferring money from paypal to my bank account. im gonna shut down my paypal and switch to google wallet since A) i made my paypal before i turned 18 and paypal is cracking down on those accounts so they can freeze their money and use it for their own nefarious purposes and B) paypal is fucking suck.
i havent heard any horror stories about google wallet yet so i feel like that’ll be a safer alternative.
Imagine a sequel to INSIDE OUT that takes place when Riley is like 90 and dying of Alzheimer’s. The Emotions would be trying to figure out why the memory bank is shutting down at such a rapid pace. Once they understand what’s happening, their packing up and leaving HQ could be a proxy for Riley’s death: Anger Leaves first, Fear leaves last. Joy stays with her until the end.
Before I read racist, misogynistic white gays for filth I need to clarify that I’m not condoning Azealia’s use of the word “faggot” and there are times I think she needs to put her iphone 6 down and go for a walk. As someone who’s had the slur directed at me I know how words scold. Azealia states that "any male who acts like a female" is a faggot. When I said acts like a female I should’ve said acts like a cunt.’’ Her definition wades in misogyny and gender-policing, and I think she deserves to be corrected..but when the critique is as vicious as I’ve seen, and the “outrage” as fake as your commitment to monogamy , I’m side-eyeing some of you…
“Azealia Banks is a whore”
“Azealia Banks is a homophobic black bitch”
These are just some of the slurs aimed at the 24-year old rapper, and former fav of the wounded white gays that now spit vitriol at her. “YASSS QUEEN!” has been replaced with racist, misogynistic abuse.
If this was an 80′s American soap opera this would be the perfect time for a swirly flashback “moment”, and to be honest, the “drama’’ and selective “outrage” surrounding Banks is just as badly constructed as the wobbly walls on Dynasty.
I first head Azealia’s “212″in 2012 at a house party, and it soon became the soundtrack of the summer. Gays lost their minds, phones, and boyfriends, as the Harlem rapper said “cunt” repeatedly in the chorus. We loved her fearless spirit, no fucks given agency over her sexuality, and uncensored truth. Banks was clearly an artist that refused to play respectability politics, and in a world of clean-cut Beyonce’s, it was refreshing.
When did the love of her unfiltered truth become the very thing that turned people against her? It kicked off when Azealia got into social media beef with blogger Perez Hilton, a gay man who’s entire career is based on outing gay movie stars, body-shaming actresses, and spreading salacious gossip. She called him a “faggot” after he ridiculed her online, and mainstream gay white media popped off. The same magazines that labelled Banks a “homophobe” conveniently ignored that he called her a “nigger bitch”, and the time Perez called WIll.I.Am a faggot, but it seems outrage is only appropriate when the perpetrator is black and the “victim” is white. Anytime privileged white gay men are dissed there is a collective grabbing of pearls, especially when an “Angry black women” is involved. Cos, you know, black people are so homophobic, right?
Last week, grainy camera phone footage emerged of Azealia Banks involved in an altercation with a gay flight attendant and a hetro couple as the flight attendant blocked her from exiting the plane and withheld her luggage. The footage starts just at the point she calls him a “fucking faggot.” The media failed to report Azealia’s version of what happened, deciding to ignore that she was physically assaulted. My newsfeed was flooded with white gays sharing the video with its click-bait headlines making her out to be the aggressor.
Gay’s ‘’YASSSED’’ when Willam, the sharp-tongued singing drag queen from RuPaul’s Drag Race confronted Banks on twitter over her use of the slur saying “the gays were all you had.” It’s telling that gay men feel a sense of entitlement to ownership of Azealia’s black body. The hypocrisy was clear however, when Banks tweeted a picture of the drag queen in blackface, because his dalliance with the boot polish was ignored. Did gay media report this? No, they just patted Willam on the back for “destroying” banks.
Since then there’s been further outage over her tweets, taken out of context and twisted to paint her as a virulent homophobe. My eyes hurt from rolling them at the gays breaking their heels RUNNING to every comments section on every article every time she tweets to declare her “IRRELEVANT!!! SHE’S DONE!!! AZAEAELIA WHO???? We’re gonna shut her down.”
Nobody wants to acknowledge Banks when she calls out the gay community for it’s misogyny directed at women, especially those of colour. I suppose admitting she’s right means acknowledging your own part in how black women are ridiculed, appropriated for comedic value, and then discarded when they speak out about their pain.White gays wanna be oppressed so bad that they forget they have white privilege. Azealia is bi, but her sexuality is constantly erased, cos let’s be real, a bi woman that is part of the queer community saying faggot does not carry the same impact as a cis hetro man saying it. Let’s not ignore structural power dynamics here. Banks is punching up at the LGBT community, which is white and gay centred. Racism, ageism and transphobia are rife…the same gays that are offended banks said “faggot” also defended their use of the word “tranny” despite the trans community stating they found it dehumanising and oppressive. But tranny’s ok right?
I’m done with basic white gays crying "homophobia”, meanwhile spouting racist and misogynistic hate. White gays are the first to scream for equal rights in public but in private declare “no blacks, Asians, and femmes” and dress up their bigotry as “preference.” Lol at all the gays threatening to “shut” Banks down. You couldn’t even shut down a Woolworths. As if Azealia needs your validation. Stay mad. I’m out.
It happened one night, almost out of the blue. Scott Evans came walking out of the cold, bleak streets of New York, on his way to see his older brother. In the backpack he had bought, were Hershey’s kisses, Doritos, and a wide assortment of unhealthy food, and movies.
After reaching the Penthouse level, he silently walked along the dark red carpet, whistling a tune he had probably heard on the radio, and picked up without knowing. His feet carried him along the corridor, hearing the occasional television, or couple shouting, maybe a faint baby cry. A smirk fell over his face, thinking of the fact that one day, his brother would be in a house, the same noises there.
Scott appeared at number 209, almost the end of the building. The light wood door, centred with the golden numbers was now in front of him. Oddly enough, he couldn’t hear any noise, not even his Brother’s loud breathing. A odd look crossed his face, as he gently reached out and knocked on the door. He waited for two…three…four minutes, until he knocked again, calling out to his older brother.
“Chris? You in there? Chris?”
He kept knocking, wanting to see where he had disappeared to. After a while, and groaning in annoyance, he pulled the phone out of his jacket, unlocking it, and scrolling down to call his brother. He held it up to his ear, waiting to hear his brothers voice, but instead was greeted by the dull answer machine.
He tried again. And again. And once more. It wasn’t until the fifth call, he could hear his brother’s phone ringing from inside the apartment. Scott raised his eyebrows, knocking again on the door of the apartment, his voice now raising, to try and get his brothers attention.
The shouting must of eventually caught on to the penthouse along. An old lady came shuffling out, a pale pink dressing gown and faded slippers. She showed a small smile, her eyes beaming behind her rounded gold glasses.
“Are you okay, sweetie? Do you need to get in?” She croaks, beginning to walk towards the door of the apartment. Scott wasted no time beginning to explain his problem.
“My brother, I think he’s in there. But he’s not answering!” He exclaimed quickly. It took a moment for the old woman to realise, but she soon showed a small key, and stepped towards the door, carefully unlocking it. Scott thanked her quickly, before stepping in, beginning to shout around.
“Chris!” He called, before running to each room. “Chris!” He felt himself growing more cautious by the moment, his breath beginning to increase when he saw his phone on the sofa, and silvery keys on the coffee table. Instantly, he pulled out his phone, harshly pressing down on the ‘999′ buttons.
“Hello?” He said, dramatically. “Police. It’s my brot-”
Scott instantly cut himself off, seeing a scribbled piece of paper, resting underneath the television remote. Still on the line to the emergency services, he pulled the piece of paper, feeling his hands tremble as the read the note, in undoubtedly his brother’s messy handwriting.
“I’m alive Scotty, don’t worry. I just needed to go. Give my love to everyone - Chris”
Scott swallowed the harsh lump which had settled in his throat, soothing the piece of paper in his hand. his eyes began to sting, and fresh tears begin to gather, as he realised that his brother was gone, and maybe for good.
The pint glass slammed onto the edge of the bar, sending a loud vibration across the piece of wood. It was late, dark, and cold.
It was after one of the most horrific and painful procrastinations he had ever experienced, that he decided. He became terribly pained of the movies, the interviews, the tabloids lying about every small affair he apparently participated in.
So, he had taken as much money as he could out of the bank, and shut it down. His phone, keys, and every belonging apart from clothing, toiletries, and the odd item had been left in his apartment, along with his car, and he had taken a taxi as far away as humanly possible.
This was the result: A small, run-down town, in the middle of nowhere. It was traditionally American, and in all honestly, a beautiful place. He had paid the cab driver, keeping on heavy sunglasses and a cap for the entirety of the ride, and then taken his bag, thanking the cab driver.
Within the first few hours of arriving, he had discovered the quaint area. It contained several larger houses at the top of the hill, two apartment blocks, several rows of shops, and a park in the centre.
After finding out he was also incredibly hungry, the thirty four year old had walked into a traditional grill-house, wanting to buy something to eat. A grilled sandwich, chips, and a pint of beer had seemed to had satisfy him, almost as much as the girl who served him.
She wore a short, butter yellow dress, a blue apron tied around her waist, and across the skirt of the dress. Her H/C hair was tied up, beginning to fall out of the bun it was placed in. She was surprisingly sweet to him, offering him anything he needed.
Chris had been sitting at the bar, admiring the girl for about six hours, ordering drinks in between. Eventually, he knew that the girl would have to go home. She probably had a husband, maybe a few children. So now, he was resting on the bar, playing with his thumbs.
He planned to go and try and find somewhere to stay, just for one night. He might be able to find work, somewhere. That was until, he felt a faint tap on his shoulder. Instantly, he turned around, seeing the same beautiful girl who he had his eye on for the past hours.
“Come on.” She said, holding out her hand. “You need somewhere to stay.” The man look puzzled, looking into the girls eyes for a moment.
“How did you…” He was cut off when the girl spoke, rolling her E/C eyes.
“First off, everyone here, knows everyone else. We’re a massive family. Secondly, nobody brings a suitcase into a restaurant, unless they haven’t got anywhere to stay.”
Chris stared, open mouth for a moment, his hands flickering between her stretched out hand, and her eyes. “What did you say your name was?” He asked, a small smile now on his face.
“I didn’t.” She paused. It’s Y/N.”
“Y/N.” Chris repeated looking back at her a moment. Gently, he took her hand, pulling himself up from the barstool. She sent him a quick wink, before leading him out into the cold night.
“And so, I left. Packed my bag,” Chris motioned to the large suitcase in his right hand, “And left, before anyone could find me.” He finished the story, pausing for a moment.
After leaving the grill house, Chris had been told that Y/N was not in fact married, but living with her mother, father, and little cousin, who was apparently a huge fan of Captain America. The actor couldn’t help but feel his heart break a little, remembering all the young fans he would be leaving behind.
“But, you left some sort of message. Your parent’s are going to think you got abducted or something.” Y/N replied in the conversation. Chris shrugged, carrying on to talk.
“I left a note for my brother. He was meant to be coming around. I said I was safe, and going somewhere.” He paused. “I should of told him to his face, should of-” Before he could finish his sentence, a sweet voice cut him off, a hand resting on his shoulder.
“It can’t be helped. Chris, he’s your brother. And, if he loves you, he’ll understand what you want.” The man felt a small smile on his face, understanding the words the girl had said, and feeling happy about it.
“Okay, your turn.” Chris said, gently. Y/N looked puzzled, her E/C eyes looking into his baby blue ones.
“What do you mean?” She replied.
“Your story. Born here? Grew up? Jobs? Friends? Family? All of that stuff?” He questioned, eagerly. Whilst doing so, he pulled down the sleeves of his plaid shirt, swapping the case to each hand as he did so.
Chris turned around, whilst the girl in question looked directly forward. Behind the duo, a blonde man, wearing a dark shirt, and tracksuit bottoms approached them, resting his hand on Y/N’s shoulder. She was quick to shrug it off, beginning to pick up her pace.
“Y/N, Babe, don’t ignore me-”
“Please don’t call me ‘Babe,’ Jason.” She almost asked in pain, trying to walk a little quicker. However, in the thin shoes she wore, it was a little harder than expected. Chris’ eyebrows raised in concern, as the man got close again, taking the top of her arm.
“No, you listen!” Chris said, threateningly. “She said to leave her alone, so why don’t you shove off?"
His tone had become menacing, and frightening, and this could clearly be seen on the face of the young man. He was silent for a moment, before slamming his hands down at his side, and trudging off, in clear defeat. The second he was out of earshot, Y/N turned to the newly found ‘bodyguard.'
"Thank you.” She said, as they continued walking, the pace slowing a little again.
“It’s fine. 2 sisters mean a lot of protecting from ass holes.” He explains, causing her to laugh a little. She nodded, as the two continued to walk, winding up the small hill, to the larger houses.
“Is there anything else you need?” Y/N asks Chris, lingering by the edge of the guest bed. After arriving at the house, and realising that both her parents and cousin was asleep, she motioned for her guest to be quiet.
He nodded, using the small bathroom to clean himself, and quickly got changed out of his shirt and jeans, into some sweatpants. When Y/N had originally seen him in the bedroom, without a shirt, and that chest…she was close to blushing.
He had nestled under the duvet you had changed, before you were about to make your way to your own room, hoping for a good nights sleep.
“Well…” Chris started, but quickly trailed off. You stepped back a couple of steps, before replying to his small mumble.
“No, it’s fine.” Y/N Paused. “You can stay here tomorrow, if you need to.” Chris shook his head, sitting up a little bit, as Y/N walked back over, carefully.
“I was wondering…do you know if there are any jobs going around?” He looked down where his hands were resting on the sheet. “It’s just, I need to earn some money. I mean, I have some, but it’s not going to last me forever.”
Y/N sighed, running her hand through her hair. “Do you know what a Logger is?” She asks, gently. Chris nods quickly, instantly recognising the job and title.
“Be up and ready tomorrow by 10am, Okay?” Y/N says, a small smile on her face. He nods, before the girl bids her tonight, and left the room, switching the light off on her way out.
Chris then curled up into the bed, resting his eyes. However, the moment they shut, endless and cope less questions began to run through his mind. How were his parents? Scott and his sisters? What was the news like?
He generally wanted to check the television right now. Although he had left a note, they might of thought he was still kidnapped. But it was like Y/N said, it was his choice.
Content of his thought, he closed his eyes, trying to get a good night sleep, which he knew would never come.
At half past nine the next morning, an almost refreshed Chris Evans had awoken, and pulled himself reluctantly from the warm, and surprisingly comfortable bed. He had silently gone to the smaller bathroom, washing his face, and combing his hair.
Now, wearing one of his old, greyish shirts, and his jeans, completed with trainers, he cautiously left his room, suspecting he was to go downstairs. However, when he was halfway down the stairs, a cold shiver ran down his spine, realising that he was in a house of complete strangers.
Had Y/N even told her parents about the fact she had asked a stranger to spend the night in their house. He could of sneaked back upstairs, and waited until Y/N came to get him.
Instead, he heard soft, gentle footsteps, and a beautiful figure appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Her H/C hair was plaited neatly, with a red plaid shirt, and black leggings on her body. Here feet were currently bare, and her E/C eyes sparkled at the sight!
“Chris! Come on, come get some breakfast!” She said cheerily. The girl awaited at the end of the stairs, until the man joined her, and she led him into the elegant kitchen.
Sitting at the table, was an older man, with E/C eyes, and light hair. He looked up when Chris entered, nodding towards the man. At the counter, was a woman, wearing a bright skirt and shirt, her H/C hair up,a and blue eyes sparkling.
“Oh! Y/N, this is the man? I swear, he was on the television this morning-” Chris gently cut her off.
“Yeah, I..left. But please, you won’t tell anybody I’m here, will you?” He says, almost in a panicked tone. The woman nods, before looking back down to the pan, which the bacon was frying with.
“So, Y/N.” She continued. “Is the nice man joining us for breakfast?” She asks, sweetly.
“Yes, he is.” Y/N replied for the man. The mother nodded, before beginning to set up five plates. One for Chris, Y/N, The Mother, Father, and who else?
Behind the kitchen island, and now spotted by Chris, was a young boy, about five years old. He worse pale blue pyjamas, and in his left hand, he held a teddy bear. Gently, he moved away, and towards his cousin.
Y/N took his hand, lifting him up, and pulling him onto her waist. “Alex, this is Chris. He is going to be staying with us for a little while, okay?” She says, gently. He nodded, before looking into Chris’ blue eyes, smiling a little.
“You…You’re Captain ‘Murica.” He says, quietly. After that he giggled a little, with the fact that one of his idols was resting in the same house as him. Chris nodded gently, patting his head.
“Listen to me, buddy. We need to keep it a Secret that i’m here, okay?” He says. The boy nods, wriggling to be let down from his cousin’s grasp.”
A small smile appears on Chris’ face, as he turns to Y/N. She shows a gentle smile, before beginning to talk again, this time more directly to him.
“Good night?” She asks questioningly.
“A little rough, actually.” He murmurs, causing Y/N to pat his shoulder sympathetically.
“It will get better, I promise.” She murmurs. At that point, she pulled him closer, curling into his grasp. He was a little cautious at first, before wrapping his arms around her frame, and resting his head atop of hers. Eventually, she pulled away, Chris feeling a sudden loss of contact.
“So.” She says sweetly. “A Loger.”
1 Week Later…
Sweating and rugged were probably the two best words to describe Chris currently. He was wearing his new found Loger outfit, and now completely sweaty, and dirty.
After beginning the job, lead by Y/N’s close friend, he had grown close to not only the job itself, but the people who he worked with. Of course, there had been a few raised eyebrows, about who he was, but that never took away the fact he worked just as hard as the other men, and therefore, earned just as much money. Chris, being the man he was, insisted that some of it went to the keep of the house.
There had also been several whispers about if the two were a couple or not. Like Y/N said, everyone here, knew everyone, and they all knew Y/N was never one for relationships. But now, a man shows up, and she almost seems inseparable with him.
Chris gently tapped on the white door of the house, waiting so see if anybody was in. The door eventually opened, and there, was Alex, a beaming smile on his face.
“Chris!” He said, charging towards the man, throwing his arms around his waist. The elder chuckled, hugging him back. Over the past days they had been antiquated, and now closer than ever.
“Hey bud. How was school?” He asked gently. The child shrugged his skinny shoulders, before responding.
“It was okay. I got a new book out.” He paused. “Can you read it with me later?” He asked. Chris nodded, patting his forehead again, before he ran back to the living room, beaming.
He chucked, watching the young boy fly away, before making his way up the stairs. On the way, he almost bumped into Amelia, Y/N’s mother, who was carrying a bundle of washing.
“Hello Chris.” She spoke. Chris nodded, before looking at the large pile of clothing. Almost as if reading his mind, the woman shook her head, the elegant bun almost falling out. “No dear, I don’t need help. Go and get a shower. Dinner will be ready soonish.” She said.
“Thanks.” Chris said kindly, before making his way down the corridor, and towards the back bathroom. The man gently pulled on the metal latch of the door, opening it gently, before entering, and closing it behind him.
He then peeled out of the sticky clothing, realising his dressing gown that Y/N had got him was already on the hook. He felt himself smile a little, as he stepped into the shower, warm water rushing over his body.
Over the past week, his feeling towards the girl had grown ever stronger. She was there for him, as he tried to be there for her. Weather they were running to the store moments before dinner, to pick up something, or he was picking her up from her job, the two would talk, share memories, anything.
Y/N’s past had come up, one night. Whilst the two were sitting in the back garden, watching the stars which were so hard to see in the bright lights of Chris’ old life.
She had grown up in the town all her life. Though, many of her childhood friends and family had left for bigger things, she has stayed, wanting to carry on her life there. And for one moment, she had never regretted it.
Once he had stepped out of the shower, refreshed, his eyes averted to the small window, which looked out onto the back porch of the house. He was confused to find Y/N herself sitting there, her face almost looking pained.
Of course, he was cautious, and worried for the girl. Quickly,he pulled on his dressing gown, warm and fluffy, before making his way out of the bathroom, and to the porch.
Y/N was there, of course. Her hair, which today had been in a plaited bun, was now loose, and floating freely. She wore a large shirt, and her comfortable leggings.
What Chris didn’t notice, until he sat by her, was her tear stained cheeks, or her shaking breath. However, the moment he sat on the step next to her. She sighed, looking at him.
“Y/N? Baby, what happened?” He asked softly. She broke into shaky breaths, hiding her head in her hands.
“J…Jason. He, He called me a whore, and tried to take me back. I…I’m so bad at this!” She said, her voice muffled slightly.
This broke Chris inside. Terribly. He had never seen a girl as beautiful, amazing, and perfect as Y/N, and he wanted her to know that. His larger hand gently took one of her wrists, then the other, pulling them down so she would look at him.
Her eyes. Beautiful, tear stained, but still perfect.
“Y/N.” He whispered gently. She swallowed, a small smile returning to her face. Both of them, could now feel themselves leaning in gently, her sweet breath on his lips. One more inch, and they felt soft lips upon one another.
The kiss was slow, sweet, and everything in between. After a second, he pulled away, noticing her eyes, widen. He paused. Maybe he shouldn’t of-
He felt lips, back on his. This time, he didn’t pull away. They moulded together, almost perfectly, kissing each other sweetly, lovingly. After a long time, they pulled away, Chris speaking first.
“Y/N, I love you, so much.” He pauses, waiting for her reaction. She breaks out into a smile, before replying.
“I love you too.” Almost in a whisper. Before anything else can advance, the porch door opens, and Alex appears, holding his book from earlier. Chris chuckles, instantly knowing what he wants.
“Come on buddy.” He smiles. Alex giggles, making himself comfortable next to Chris, as Y/N lies her shoulder on the fluffy towel of his dressing down, one of her hands now holding his.
“Scott, are you sure about this?” Mrs Evans asks from the back-seat. The younger brother nods, before parking his car, just in front of the Grill Restaurant.
It had taken almost two months, but after a tip off from an old friend, Scott found himself at this small town, alongside his mother. His sister had been too emotional to visit, and his father was completely disembarked by the idea, thinking if Chris was gone, he was gone for good.
The two quietly exited the car, looking into one of the windows of the building. Their eyes darted around, until Lisa’s hand flies up to her mouth, covering it quickly.
There, in the window, was her son. Sitting with a five year old boy, who was resting into his chest. From what it looked like, they were colouring in, using the large box of crayons visibly seen. She continued watching, as a beautiful woman walked over, talking for a moment, before quickly kissing Chris’ lips.
“Come on.” Scott said, resting a hand on his mother’s shoulders, before leading her towards the door.
The atmosphere inside was calm, relaxing. Couples, and the odd old man or women were scattered around the area, talking to one another. At the booth at the back, Scott and Lisa saw him.
It took a moment, but Chris looked up to where a cold draft had been let into the building. And, the second he saw them, his eyes locked. He murmured something to the boy next to him, pulling himself up.
Scott couldn’t wait any longer. He charged over to his brother, engulfing him in a huge hug. Both of the boys started crying, as they saw one another. Scott pulled away, dabbing at his eyes a little, before beginning to talk.
“Chrissy, where on earth? Why did you do all this?” He asked, almost crying again.” Chris, who had been practising this for a while now, opened his mouth, and explained.
“I couldn’t take it anymore. The fans, constant pressure. I wanted a new start. So, I found it.” His voice stayed strong. Honestly, Scott was pleased to see him. And by now, Lisa had come over, hugging her son tightly, the crying beginning all over again.
By now, Y/N and Alex had walked over, both of them holding hands. Lisa’s eyebrows raised at the girl. Chris, feeling rude for not introducing them, took his chance to speak.
“Mum, Scott, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. And her cousin, Alex. She helped me when I first got here.” He spoke. Y/N waved gently, her smile resting on her face. Scott looked at her for a split second, before hugging her tightly.
“Thank you for looking after him.” He spoke softly, a small smile on his face. Y/N nodded, patting his shoulder.
“Do you guys want a drink?” She asked sweetly. “Alex, show them to the table you were at.” She tapped her cousin’s nose gently, causing him to giggle. He did so, leading the two new found companions.
Before Chris followed, he took Y/N’s wrist, causing her to spin around, and close in tightly to his chest. A small smile passed, before he kissed her lips, his hands holding her cheeks gently. As they pulled away from one another, she was the first to speak.
“I’m so glad you made this choice.” She said, sweetly.
“So am I.” He paused, kissing her nose. “And it was my choice.”
there will be a nice selection of new legendaries; however, we still won’t have a poison one
there will be a small handful of characters who speak in stereotypical surfer slang
and at least a few notable NPCs who have tropical flowers in their hair
if trainer customization returns, females will get tropical flowers to put in their hair; males will not
tropius will be fairly common
game freak will claim their hack check has improved, but it will not be much better
many beloved features will not return; however, we will not be too disappointed because of the new features we get
they will attempt to use plenty of tropical instruments in the soundtrack. this will create a unique but pleasant style. i will still complain about the music, though
they will attempt to incorporate memes into various minor character dialogue; it will be badly shoehorned but because the character doesn’t really matter it will be ignored
gen 6 wifi support will continue; however, so very few people would be using it it won’t be worthwhile
a gen 7 equivalent of pkhex will come out within 2 months
meanwhile powersaves will exploit the pockets of many by putting SuMo on “powersaves prime”
there will not be a new eeveelution; people everywhere will be disappointed
there will be a pokemon with a high resemblance to an inanimate object; people will hate on it for no specific reason
pokemon bank will have an update to support sumo transfers; however because of the unshockingly high traffic they will have to shut bank servers down for a month or so. they will claim they didn’t know bank would have such high traffic - but they did know
there will be plenty of “aLOLa” jokes on those meme sites
i will still complain constantly even though i love the games
5-RING CIRCUS ALERT: The House just voted to create a special committee to investigate Planned Parenthood despite the lack of any evidence of wrongdoing.
Republican leadership has apparently become obsessed with Planned Parenthood, to the detriment of almost any other legislation: Today, the House voted to create a special committee to investigate Planned Parenthood. This marks the fifth committee investigating Planned Parenthood based on false claims that have been totally discredited. And it happened in the sixth legislative week in a row that Congress has focused on attacking Planned Parenthood and women’s health instead of the priorities they once said they had.
All Those Things Congress Hasn’t Done While Focusing on Planned Parenthood…
At the beginning of 2015, John Boehner and Mitch McConnell laid out their plan for CongressinaWallStreetJournalop-ed — priorities that they’ve obviously let drop while getting caught up in the fishing expedition against Planned Parenthood:
Measures authorizing the construction of the Keystone XL pipeline;
The Hire More Heroes Act, legislation encouraging employers to hire more of our nation’s veterans;
A proposal to restore the traditional 40-hour definition of full-time employment;
Legislation to help protect and expand America’s emerging energy boom;
Legislation to support innovative charter schools around the country;
Addressing the “insanely complex” tax code that they stated “is driving American jobs overseas”;
Addressing a “savage global terrorist threat that seeks to wage war on every American”;
Addressing “excessive regulations and frivolous lawsuits” that they said are “driving up costs for families and preventing the economy from growing”; and finally
Addressing a ” national debt that has Americans stealing from their children and grandchildren, robbing them of benefits that they will never see and leaving them with burdens that will be nearly impossible to repay.”
Few of these priorities have been addressed. Instead, congressional leadership has been obsessing over women’s access to basic health care, making our country pay the price. Here’s are just some examples of how:
These attacks are unabashedly political. In other words, “Let’s Make Planned Parenthood the Next Benghazi:” GOP leaders proclaimed they will continue to investigate Planned Parenthood — despite multiple investigations showing no wrongdoing. What’s more, House Majority Leader and possible candidate for Speaker of the House Kevin McCarthy (R-CA) revealed the blatantly political nature of the attacks on Planned Parenthood, threatening to do to the organization what he claims to have done to Democratic presidential candidate Hillary Clinton with the Benghazi special committee.
Bottom Line: Congress Should Stop Wasting Time Attacking Reproductive Health
Americans don’t want their members of Congress focused on restricting reproductive health care. It’s time for Congress to give up this obsession, and get back to work.
NO PRIDE FOR SOME OF US WITHOUT LIBERATION FOR ALL OF US. WE CAN’T BREATHE. BLACK LIVES MATTER!
PRIDE DISRUPTION ACTION, SEPTEMBER 26, 2015 IN DURHAM, NC
A collaborative statement from a QTPOC-led coalition (Greensboro QPOCC, Durham and NC SONG, El Cambio, Get EQUAL, and more) across the state:
WHY WE DISRUPT PRIDE
“We disrupt your Pride so that you are reminded that our Pride also matters and that we are proud of our roots. We are proud to have ancestors and kindred in folks like Miss Major, Storme DeLarverie, Sylvia Rivera and Marsha P Johnson - who actively demonstrated what resistance meant by putting their bodies and their lives on the line our collective survival. They also fought the police and saw that the policing of queer and trans bodies, genders, and loving happens at the same violent hands and by the triggers of the same deadly guns that take the very lives and cuff the fragile hands and cage the wounded, healing bodies of Black and Brown people every single day. Our Pride was birthed by our Transgender and Queer ancestors and kindred in a storm of fire and fishnets where Black and Brown people chased the police off of our turf. Your pride has a police escort. Our pride took the streets by a storm to protect gender nonconforming people who were shoved into paddywagons. Your pride has a parade permit and asks participants to follow the instructions of law enforcement and pay outrageous fees while our only permit is each other and our hearts are our instructions and those who pay know that they are in a position to do so as an act of loving solidarity.
NC Pride in Durham is sponsored by Wells Fargo, which in 2012 loaned $785 million dollars to Corrections Corporation of America (CCA), a large corporation that contracts with prisons and ICE. You would have to work more than 108 thousand hours at 7.25 dollars an hour to make 785 million dollars. Greensboro Pride is sponsored by Bank of America, which has multi-million dollar contracts with the Federal Bureau of Prisons. Your Pride is sponsored by the banks and corporations that cage, murder, and enslave Black and Brown Queer and Trans folk.
We interrupt your regularly scheduled state-sanctioned celebration to remind you that we are not ready to celebrate the countless murders of our Transgender Black Women. We are not ready to give into silence and privilege and respectability politics that only continue to increase the pockets of some while deplete the pockets of many.
Our kindred are locked back in the Durham County Jail - denied urgent medical care, reading material, clean drinking water or even a fundamental right to sunlight. We are being tased in Harris Teeter, dragged out of our homes and hunted down, then violently persecuted and shot at on the very streets for having no homes to go to. We interrupt your Pride because Zora taught us that if we are silent about our pain, you will kill us and say we enjoyed it. Today, we are here, standing strong, as a reminder that we will no longer stand silent and will hold those in power and those that perpetuate and profit off of Black and Brown murders, incarceration, bodies, and love.
Nonprofit industrial complex, you can no longer get your grant dollars off our deaths and bucks off our backs. Your hands are bloody. Our people, queer trans black and brown people, are not an afterthought, your tokens, or your objects on your websites. Our tribe stands in our legacy of resistance and we are demanding: show up for us or we shut you down. Fight alongside us, or we shut you down. Divest from prisons and big banks, or we shut you down.”
My card was rejected today when I was paying for my lunch, even though I had money my bank had temporarily shut it down. While I was in distress talking to my dad on the phone, a lady behind me paid for me and said, “pay it forward.” And I honestly wanna cry. There is still some good in the world.
marauder summer holidays at the potters headcanons
[warning for length!] tbh I had to get acciowalnuts to help me out because I had major writers block with this, but
Laurel and I hc Marauders all the time on kik so ofc I went to them to help me. Follow them if you aren’t already!
This is what Laurel said
regarding this hc in Canon verse:
The second week of
July, James, Peter, and Remus arrive at the Potter’s house. Peter through the
floo, covered in ash and soot but in one piece, Sirius through the back door by
way of the garden his broom crashed landed in, and Remus through the front door
like a respectable person, having taken the knight bus.
And it’s mayhem.
They manage to get up to
anything and everything four 16 year old boys can get up to.
Which turns into
all of July and August. There’s all kinds of boredom at first as they try and
figure out what to do to pass the time without magic.
Someone (not mentioning
names) suggested homework, which prompted Sirius to throw a pillow at that
someone’s face, resulting in a pillow fight that leaves Sirius and Remus too
close (on top of each other) at one point and results in Remus loudly
suggesting that they play Exploding Snap, because you brought your set, right
Nights in the garden or on
the roof passing a bottle of stolen firewhiskey between the four of them.
James takes them to a
field to try out the new broomstick his parents bought for him getting mostly
Os on his OWLs. They take turns flying and Sirius ends up with a broken wrist
and Remus has grass in his hair.
Sometimes the four of them
lay awake talking, which usually ends in James going on about Lily, which
prompts Peter to eventually try to smother him with a pillow. Everyone quiets
down after that, except for Sirius and Remus, who whisper to each other until
they’re too tired to keep talking.
They spend most afternoons
sprawled out in the shade of the large oak tree in the gardens. Peter dozing,
James tossing a snitch in the air, Remus reading, and Sirius trying very hard
not to look at Remus as he leans back against a tree and focuses on what James
is saying about the color of Lily Evan’s hair.
Sirius burns a letter from
his mother one morning, Remus tries not to look at the way the moon gets wider
every night, Peter tries not to think about how soon they won’t be so young
anymore, and James looks around at his best friends and forgets it won’t last
I went off with my own
Muggle AU version:
games are a thing they bring, each has their favorites and they take turns
playing different ones every night. Peter’s mom made enough sweets for a small village. Sirius brought himself and his wardrobe to stay for as long as his mother didn’t bother to bring him back.
They also try to practice their
skateboarding in the mostly empty roads in front of the Potter’s house, but
only James has a real knack for it as far as actual moves. Sirius and Remus can
keep up in general, but Peter nearly breaks his leg trying to avoid an oncoming
car and they move on in their activities.
and skins soccer matches happen in the summer heat. Remus gets sunburned and
complains for a week. Sirius offered him the sunscreen, but he didn’t bother
and Sirius’ skin is perfectly unharmed in contrast to them all. James just gets
darker, and Peter’s body is two-toned from the shirt.
the days that are too hot to go outside, they make music videos to their
favorite songs and replay their favorite movie scenes in front of video cameras.
The videos would never see the light of day anywhere else, but the Marauders
watch them when they need a good laugh. Sirius takes all of his roles Very
Seriously (“Shut up, James, I’m just talented like that”) due to his numerous
roles in theatre at school. Peter is excellent at doing covers of most of their songs, thanks to his years of karaoke domination. Remus enjoys being behind the camera directing more than in front of it. James brings it all together with his last minute set-making skills and role as Sirius’ leading babe in the productions.
still gets involved halfway through the summer. The Potters are away for a
little vacation (away from the boys invading their home) and in their boredom,
James pulls out one of the bottles “hidden” in the cabinet. Remus has never had
that much alcohol, and turns into a giggly, wiggly mess that Sirius finds absolutely
adorable. They might use it as an excuse to cuddle on the couch while James
stares at the phone number Lily Evans gave him before school ended that he has yet to call. Remus falls
asleep first, head lying on Sirius’ lap and the latter’s fingers threaded
through his curls. Peter barely reacts to the alcohol, and disappears to clean
up the mess in the kitchen from their little drinking party. One of them has to
be a little responsible. Mr. Potter makes James pay for it when they
discover the drinks missing, but James gets enough allowance that it doesn’t
affect their antics too much, especially with Sirius’ bank account (that gets
shut down every few months, but Sirius manages to convince his family to open
it out of necessity every time) as backup.
there’s the time they got caught getting high and tried to (horribly) play it
off to Mrs. Potter that everything was normal when she came home early from her
day out. James’ bedroom smelled so strongly of weed that there was no way they
could hide it. All of their eyes are bloodshot and Remus (like with alcohol)
can’t stop giggling from his place on James’ beanbag chair, even though he
rationally knows that now is the Time To Act Remorseful, Lupin.
Mrs. Potter does not take too kindly to the laughter, and lectures them all
about the “dangers of cannabis” while they wash the crumb-covered sheets
(Peter’s mom’s sweets get demolished and they all have stomachaches later) and
air out the room. She almost threatens to call their parents, but Sirius’ wide
eyed look stops her. Remus’ mom finds out anyway, and she laughs about it for
five minutes and tells her son that they did much worse things when she was a
teenager and that the giggles are something he got from her, you’re welcome.
second time they get high, it’s just Remus and Sirius, late at night in the
Potter’s gazebo. Remus won’t tell him where he got this weed, but he shares it,
so Sirius doesn’t complain. Remus sprawls his long body along the bench and
Sirius’ lap is a pillow once again. Sirius’ hair is in a braid from his
pestering early that morning and Remus’ fingers are drawn to twisting it. “I
learned a trick with this,” Remus says suddenly, the weed having made them both quiet (the
giggles are subdued, nerves calmed by the outside air and Sirius’ presence alone.) “Hmm?”
Sirius asks, glancing down then up as Remus rises and shifts a bit closer, the
blunt moving to his other hand. “It’s called shotgunning,” he explains, “you
take a hit,” plump lips take a long draw, then exhales, the smoke spiraling
upwards between them, “and you share the smoke with someone else.” The intensity in Remus’
expression pinpoints Sirius’ focus, wanting to know the details of this trick.
“How else do you share it?” Sirius asks, holding his hand out for the blunt. Shaking his
head, Remus gives him an easy smile. “When I exhale, you inhale,” he instructs,
“sort of like a kiss.” Then he’s taking another hit and leaning in, his face now inches
away from Sirius’. Sirius’ mind stutters at that word, but now Remus is
exhaling and Sirius’ mouth falls open to mimic his and he inhales like he was told to do. Next thing
he knows, their lips are brushing, then they’re kissing for real and it’s the
best feeling Sirius has ever had. Everything is slow and easy and comfortable
and he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. A long second later, Sirius has to
pull back to cough into his sleeve from the smoke still in his lungs, and Remus
bursts into giggles so strong he ends up falling off the bench.
Holy jesus motherfucker AEP just dropped the mother of all bombshells (and I think his source is Varoufakis, more explained below).
Greek premier Alexis Tsipras never expected
to win Sunday’s referendum on EMU bail-out terms, let alone to preside
over a blazing national revolt against foreign control.
He called the snap vote with the expectation - and intention - of
losing it. The plan was to put up a good fight, accept honourable
defeat, and hand over the keys of the Maximos Mansion, leaving it to
others to implement the June 25 “ultimatum” and suffer the opprobrium.
This ultimatum came as a shock to the Greek cabinet. They thought they
were on the cusp of a deal, bad though it was. Mr Tsipras had already
made the decision to acquiesce to austerity demands, recognizing that
Syriza had failed to bring about a debtors’ cartel of southern EMU
states and had seriously misjudged the mood across the eurozone.
Instead they were confronted with a text from the creditors that upped
the ante, demanding a rise in VAT on tourist hotels from 7pc (de facto)
to 23pc at a single stroke.
Creditors insisted on further
pension cuts of 1pc of GDP by next year and a phase out of welfare
assistance (EKAS) for poorer pensioners, even though pensions have
already been cut by 44pc.
They insisted on fiscal tightening equal to 2pc of GDP in an economy reeling from six years of depression and devastating hysteresis.
They offered no debt relief. The Europeans intervened behind the scenes
to suppress a report by the International Monetary Fund validating
Greece’s claim that its debt is “unsustainable”. The IMF concluded that
the country not only needs a 30pc haircut to restore viability, but also
€52bn of fresh money to claw its way out of crisis.
They rejected Greek plans to work with the OECD on market reforms,
and with the International Labour Organisation on collective bargaining
laws. They stuck rigidly to their script, refusing to recognise in any
way that their own Dickensian prescriptions have been discredited by
economists from across the world.
“They just didn’t want us to
sign. They had already decided to push us out,” said the now-departed
finance minister Yanis Varoufakis.
So Syriza called the
referendum. To their consternation, they won, igniting the great Greek
revolt of 2015, the moment when the people finally issued a primal
scream, daubed their war paint, and formed the hoplite phalanx.
Mr Tsipras is now trapped by his success. “The referendum has its own
dynamic. People will revolt if he comes back from Brussels with a shoddy
compromise,” said Costas Lapavitsas, a Syriza MP.
doesn’t want to take the path of Grexit, but I think he realizes that
this is now what lies straight ahead of him,” he said.
What should have been a celebration on Sunday night turned into a
wake. Mr Tsipras was depressed, dissecting all the errors that Syriza
has made since taking power in January, talking into the early hours.
Everybody knew what a fight would mean. The inner cabinet had
discussed the details a week earlier at a tense meeting after the
European Central Bank refused to increase liquidity (ELA) to the Greek
banking system, forcing Syriza to impose capital controls.
was a triple plan. They would “requisition” the Bank of Greece and sack
the governor under emergency national laws. The estimated €17bn of
reserves still stashed away in various branches of the central bank
would be seized.
They would issue parallel liquidity and California-style IOUs denominated in euros
to keep the banking system afloat, backed by an appeal to the European
Court of Justice to throw the other side off balance, all the while
asserting Greece’s full legal rights as a member of the eurozone. If the
creditors forced Grexit, they - not Greece - would be acting illegally,
with implications for tort contracts in London, New York and even
They would impose a haircut on €27bn of Greek bonds
held by the ECB, and deemed “odious debt” by some since the original
purchases were undertaken by the ECB to save French and German banks,
forestalling a market debt restructuring that would otherwise have
“They were trying to strangle us into submission, and this is how we
would retaliate,” said one cabinet minister. Mr Tsipras rejected the
plan. It was too dangerous. But a week later, that is exactly what he
may have to do, unless he prefers to accept a forced return to the
The new finance minister, Euclid Tsakalotos,
vaguely offered to come up with something by Wednesday, almost
certainly a rejigged version of plans that the creditors have already
Events are now spinning out of control. The banks
remain shut. The ECB has maintained its liquidity freeze, and through
its inaction is asphyxiating the banking system.
shutting down across the country as stocks of raw materials run out and
containers full of vitally-needed imports clog up Greek ports. Companies
cannot pay their suppliers because external transfers are blocked.
Private scrip currencies are starting to appear as firms retreat to
semi-barter outside the banking system.
Yet if Greece is in turmoil, so is Europe. The entire leadership of
the eurozone warned before the referendum that a “No” vote would lead to
ejection from the euro, never supposing that they might have to face
Jean-Claude Juncker, the European Commission’s
chief, had the wit to make light of his retreat. “We have to put our
little egos, in my case a very large ego, away, and deal with situation
we face,” he said.
France’s prime minister, Manuel Valls said
Grexit and the rupture of monetary union must be prevented as the
highest strategic imperative. “We cannot let Greece leave the eurozone.
Nobody can say today what the political consequences would be, what
would be the reaction of the Greek people,” he said.
leaders are working in concert with the White House. Washington is
bringing its immense diplomatic power to bear, calling openly on the EU
to put “Greece on a path toward debt sustainability” and sort out the
festering problem once and for all.
The Franco-American push is
backed by Italy’s Matteo Renzi, who said the eurozone has to go back to
the drawing board and rethink its whole austerity doctrine after the
democratic revolt in Greece. He too now backs debt relief.
Yet 15 of the 18 governments now sitting in judgment on Greece
either back Germany’s uncompromising stand, or are leaning towards
Grexit in one form or another. The Germans are already thinking beyond
Grexit, discussing plans for humanitarian aide and balance of payments
support for the drachma.
Mark Rutte, the Dutch premier, spoke
for many in insisting that the eurozone must uphold discipline, whatever
the financial consequences. “I am at the table here today to ensure
that the integrity, the cohesion, the underlying principles of the
single currency are protected. It is up to the Greek government to come
up with far-reaching proposals. If they don’t do that, then I think it
will be over quickly,” he said.
The two sides are talking past
each other, clinging to long-entrenched narratives, no longer willing to
question their own assumptions. The result could be costly. RBS puts
the direct financial losses for the eurozone from a Greek default at
€227bn, compared with €140bn if they bite the bullet on an IMF-style
But that is a detail compared with the damage to the European
political project and the Nato alliance if Greece is thrown to wolves
against the strenuous objections of France, Italy and the US.
is hard to imagine what would remain of Franco-German condominium.
Washington might start to turn its back on Nato in disgust, leaving
Germany and the Baltic states to fend for themselves against Vladimir
Putin’s Russia, a condign punishment for such loss of strategic vision
Mr Lapavitsas said Europe’s own survival as
civilisational force in the world is what is really at stake. “Europe
has not show much wisdom over the last century. It launched two world
wars and had to be saved by the Americans,” he said
the creation of monetary union it has acted with such foolishness, and
created such a disaster, that it is putting the very union in doubt, and
this time there will be no saviour. It is the last throw of the dice
for Europe,” he said.
Today, the new Greek Finance Minister walked into a Eurogroup meeting with absolutely no new proposals, shocking everybody. He was photographed on the way out with a piece of paper on which he had written English notes, including “no triumphalism”.
Now maybe this is all one big scheme to smooth the path to SYRIZA forfeiting, just making sure that everybody believes they had no choice, but I trust that chaos is the law of the land far more than order. Tsakalatos’ face doesn’t look like a “>TFW”, it’s a “Oh god, we fucked up, what do we do”.
Now, this is not nearly the time to start planning a Grexit, which should have begun in January. It’s also not good that the battle plan was leaked, which means the ECB can take precautions (not that they probably haven’t already thought of it. They need to make sure Greece is dependent on humanitarian aid and has as few Euros in the country as possible to make it as pliant to Germany when the exit comes). But holy shit, it makes for exciting reading.
Now, why do I think Varoufakis is the source? AEP has implied over and over that he has intimate dealings with high level Syriza figures who were privy to the negotiation process, yet in this case, nothing about Tsakalatos’ dealings leaked. Instead, we heard about things that happened before Varoufakis resigned. In AEP’s last article, he mentions outright that he had spoken to Varoufakis, and his tone seemed to have been similar to the sort of things AEP’s articles have been saying:
But then he was starting to harbour ‘dangerous’ thoughts. When I asked him before the vote
whether he was prepared to contemplate seizing direct control of the
Greek banking system, a restoration of sovereign monetary instruments,
Grexit, and a return to the drachma – if the ECB maintains its
liquidity blockade, forcing the country to its knees - he thought for a
while and finally answered yes.
“I am sick of these bigots,” he said.
His fear was that Greece did not have the technical competence to carry
out an orderly exit from EMU, and truth be told, Syriza has already
raided every possible source of funds within the reach of the Greek
state - bar a secret stash still at the central bank, controlled by
Syriza’s political foes - and therefore has no emergency reserves to
prevent the crisis spinning out of control in the first traumatic weeks.
He was putting out feelers for technical experts in London,
targeting veterans of Britain’s ERM exit in 1992, though he was under no
illusions that Grexit could ever be anything other than gruesome.
AEP’s been awfully kind to Syriza for somebody who calls himself a “Burkean conservative”, implying maybe there was a personal friendship. I think Varoufakis stayed around to give his last interview to AEP so he could drop this bombshell scoop.
Hopefully, Greece can fly in those experts very quickly. There seems to be almost no chance that an exit can be averted. Eurocrats have outright stated that if they don’t get a detailed proposal on a third bailout on Thursday to hash out through the weekend, then Sunday’s Eurogroup meeting will be all about the exit.
“We have a Grexit scenario prepared in detail,” said Jean-Claude Juncker, president of the European commission.
In no way is this legal, but neither were the first two bailouts, and that never stopped them. This is gonna be a wild week. Will our heroes ride off into the sunset?
Question! Referring to your last picture, I understand how Natalie Portman is problematic but how come Scarlett Johansson?
She chose to become the spokesperson for “Sodastream” which is an Israeli soda company located in an illegal settlement in the West Bank, when the humanitarian group Oxfam that she was an ambassador in told her to leave Sodastream since it goes against everything they believe in she quit her ambassadorship with them to keep supporting Sodastream. She still stands by her decision and has no regrets even after all the backlash (the company in the West Bank has thus shut down)
so in short she chose to leave a humanitarian group to support a company that violates human rights on a daily basis