online association

okay fine ill make a seperate post for the goddess i created too

Stjärn Herre, Goddess of the stars

  • Her name means ‘Star Master’ in Swedish (I am not a swede, I used google translate)
  • She is neutral and doesn't concern herself with the problems on earth, her place is with the stars.
  • Her job is to create stars, destroy stars, and to prevent harmful meteors from landing on the earth
  • However, she aided the light that saved Jorvik, she’s the one who sent that girl off into the world.

Her song: Yellow 


A bit of FENHAWKE for the cyberpunk Thedas AU… Fenris is a bit shy of Hawke’s online association with Mage rights activist Anders, and Hawke is a bit nervous that Fenris could disable his internal tech augmentations with a wave of his hand.
But they both end up agreeing that life is better at each other’s sides, for better or worse.

"Meet me at 9pm in the park, beside the tree that looks like it has an ass."

Read the note. Saitama-sensei’s usual scrawl.
Genos curses his underwhelming sensors. His sensei rose before him and left without the cyborg even noticing. Cotton fills his mouth and his head as he struggles to wake up.
A surprise?
A party?
A test?
Whatever it was, Saitama-sensei wanted secrecy.
So Genos played along.

He tried to pass the time.
Cleaning. Cooking lunch. More cleaning. Yelling at the leagues of Caped Baldy haters on Hero’s Association online forums. Fetching the mail. More cleaning.
What felt like hours amount to 50 measly minutes.
Genos set an internal alarm to rouse him at 8:50pm.
And fell asleep.

Genos rises to another note.

“Wear something nice.”

He plays along still. Must be a surprise party. For a friend? Mumen’s birthday, King’s birthday, he couldn’t remember.
Pale blue dress shirt, sleeves torn off.
Dark and pressed pinstripe vest.
Genos’s footfalls echo through the empty city.

The park. 8:58pm.
Dead center, off the beaten path, beside the squatting tree.
A blanket stretched out on the grass.
He paces anxiously, powerful body swathed in a pale yellow dress shirt and form fitting vest. He looks good.


“Ah! Genos.”

Before the cyborg can ask, he’s steered onto the blanket, passed a paper oyster pail filled with take out, still piping hot.
Teppanyaki. Crisp vegetables. Fluffy rice.
Saitama-sensei clicks his chopsticks excitedly and they eat in companionable silence for a while.

“When will the others arrive?”

“…. Others?”

Saitam’s eyes widen. He glances away. Worries and plucks at the blanket beneath them. Swallows another mouthful of chilled tea.

“This…. Is for you, Genos.”

The cyborg’s eyes widen. He’s handed a bouquet of roses.
Crimson. Freshly cut. Beaded with dew.

“I’m… Wooing you. Because I’m old and dumb but you’re…. Fuck, Genos, you….”

Genos can hear teeth gritting, pulse hammering, eyelids flitting, fingers tapping.
Sensei is… Nervous?

“Before you, there was… Nothing. All this strength doesn’t amount to shit when you feel so… So… So DEAD inside. Which is what I am. Was. But you…. You made me feel again.”

Fingers that could shatter concrete and pulverize flesh in one swoop were delicate against the cyborg’s metal fingers. He watched, amazed, as Saitama-sensei tangled their digits together, raised the younger man’s hand, and pressed feather light kisses to his knuckles.

“I… You make me so fucking happy, Genos. And you’re… You’re so confident. And brave. Brash, yeah, you rush into danger like a man with a death wish but– you… You make me happy like no one does. Or has. And I…”

Saitama’s eyes flutter shut, lips frozen against the warmth of Genos’s hand. His grip tightens slightly.

“I adore you, Genos.”

Genos watches, awestruck. Saitama exudes awkwardness, discomfort. He looks like he feels naked.
The roses. The dinner. The romantic atmosphere.
It breaks the cyborg’s heart.
Cradling the bald head of his teacher between firm palms, Genos closes the space between them.
They kiss.
It’s slow and careful and warm.
It’s perfection.

“Let’s go home, sensei.”


“I don’t want those roses to die of thirst. And… I have my own confessions to give. But back home.”

The delighted smile that stretches across Saitama’s face threatens to crush Genos’s very soul.
They pack up.
They leave.
Hand in hand.
Genos presses a chaste kiss to the open petals of the most vibrant rose and tucks it into the pocket of Saitama’s vest.
They kiss underneath the starlight.
And the world feels a little warmer.


@audiocassete i know youll write sonething 100000x better but at least i tried


Coke is using Rio to target Latinos — and that’s a huge problem.

Food advertisers are thirsty for attention during the Olympic Games, and a recent interview with a Coca-Cola spokesperson reveals that the brand is targeting Hispanics with its #ThatsGold campaign.

In an interview with Portada-Online, associate brand manager Melissa Palacios said that the #ThatsGold campaign will include themes of positivity and inclusiveness because “… more than other ethnic groups, Hispanics are particularly interested in the potential underdog stories, those stories of hard work and success.”

The problem: Coke isn’t celebrating Hispanics or the variety of cultures in the Olympics — the company is currying good favor with specific populations. The goal? To gain lifelong Coke addicts —ahem, consumers. Junk food marketers disproportionally target minorities.

follow @the-movemnt


Hello, my name is Steven . I’m a 19 year old freelance model based in the Washington D.C. “DMV” metropolitan area. I recently got in contact with one of the online associates “Kyrs”( Kyrstan) on the American apparel website and she directed me to this email to the team for models. I’m really interested in modeling for the brand. You guys are more then welcome to Check out my IG for more work @melaninboy.

Boost this if you will?
#blackmodelsmatter (too) 😉✊🏾
I hope to hear from them soon!
, Cheers ✨