I shouldn’t have played the music game while putting together a wardrobe lol. IMMA DO THEM IN A BIT, THANK YUO TO THOSE WHO SENT THEM!!
Just a quick note though…..
Regarding the Lana directing….
Look, i’ve dished my fair share of Lana dislike over the years; her personality doesn’t strike me as one i’d get on with… but with saying that, i’ve sort of gotten over it and am not really into playing those games anymore.
I can get some aren’t too happy with the news and can have their own rightful thoughts on it etc etc, you feel however you feel, baby! let it out! But I will ask if people could kindly not place anti opinions on my posts, i’d really appreciate it and thank you. I’m all for you all expressing whatever you want to express but if it could please be held back from being added to one of my posts, that’d be grand.
My personal opinion is good luck to her, i’m guessing it’s something she’s wanted to try and I hope it goes well for her. Whatever I think of the woman, I don’t know her and if this is something she wants, let her have it. I don’t believe in begrudging someone the chance to do something for themselves simply because i’m not fond of the persona they give off.
The same way I wished JMo well when she wanted to leave and persue other directions, the same way i’d wish Colin well in whatever he does- i’m personally giving her the same respect and remain neutral to the whole thing.
okay but like stop acting like your the queen of diversity 1. All your Sims are white?? And 2. All of your Sims being lesbian doesn't = diversity.. I'm not a fan of Kayla but...
Okay 1. Yeah ur fucking right a majority of my sims r white sbdihsiahai and 2. Stop erasing my sims sexualities???? In my legacy two sims are lesbians the rest are bi, pan, and asexual???? I love lesbians but not all of my sims are lesbians??? Hunter and Alejandro can’t even be lesbians wtf??????
After pondering issues with the Trans umbrella for a while, I whipped this up. Neither umbrella is better than the other, and each have their niche in the world. But, as long as these two groups stay lumped together, we will be stuck in endless discourse, and time and effort spent fighting, is time and effort not spent on making the world more Trans and NB friendly.
Separating the umbrellas better facilitates finding our allies and resources. NBs fighting gender roles and changing the political landscape don’t need all of the medical info related to transition. And trans folks could find their medical, legal, housing, logistical, etc. resources without getting bogged down in political activism posts. That’s not to say Trans folk can’t be political, or NBs can’t later realize they are actually Trans, but it would give everyone a more solid place to start their journey.
What do people think? Can we discuss it respectively and move toward something that works for both groups? The current model doesn’t work, so how can we make it better?
These questions are more rhetorical than anything, just ask yourselves how we can change for the better. And, clearly I don’t speak for either group, I’m just a humble guy who is watching both camps repeatedly gnaw at each other’s throats, without creating any real solution.
All of you should be ashamed. All of you including me.
I woke up and my feed everywhere was just filled with JK Rowling arguments.
All of you, just grow up? The truth of the matter is that we will never know what happened between Amber and Johnny - ever. Fuck all of you who say “oh this happened, this was recorded etc”. I don’t care. You and I weren’t there, the 2 people mentioned were. Only they know what happened.
However, this is does not justify some truly disgusting comments I have seen eg
“Amber is an attention seeker. Disgusting. If she was abused, she deserved it.”
“Depp is bullshit. JK Rowling was always a bitch, fucking die.”
Shame. On all of you. How dare you all act high and mighty, deciding what another person is like or what has happened to them.
I know you all have opinions, I know you all are either potterheads or just interested in this story.
But opinions, when just plain offensive and stupid, are best kept to themselves.
We are all here. These Hollywood abusers, druggies, rapists, accused people all seem so far away but it is the reality of everything around you as well.
I cannot say I am on anyone’s side. However, what I will say is don’t make the situation worse. If you don’t want to watch the new HP films, fine. You don’t like the 3 I mentioned, fine. Just don’t call them out with disgusting comments I have seen everywhere today.
i hope everyone who’s headcanoning kylo as bi or gay and/or shipping kylux or reylo and subsequently erasing kylos identity as an incel are happy with themselves. congratulations you’re incelphobes. smh
pidge: “bet you i can prove that the roswell conspiracy was a cover up for galra crap” keith: “no way” lance: “bullshit, show me.”
5 hours later, surrounded by cork boards and diagrams
lance: “and that’s why that weird alien metal they found was obviously from galra armor” keith: “okay but what about the teeny ass not-galra bodies they found, dumbass, explain that to me”
there’s a droid in the training room that lance nicknames “keithbot” bc it twitches and sparks like a crazed animal when you overwork it.
keith: “oh well there’s a ‘lancebot’ in the corner except it’s broken bc i stabbed it in the throat” lance: >:o
after the lion switch when their relationship improves, lance insists on making keith go on the official three-day-long “Lance McClain Friendship Retreat” and keith is low-key horrified
hunk: “keith you’re so lucky! the icebreakers are the best part!” pidge: “careful with the trust falls they increase in danger as you collect more friendship tokens”
they both sneak into the observation deck whenever shiro is training because it’s kinda like watching renaissance art in action it’s beautiful the two of them geek out about it and cheer when shiro gets a good hit in.
sending these two on missions together either goes amazingly or terribly there’s literally no in between it’s a constant gamble
the balmera mission? a rousing success. highlight of their career.
sweeping an abandoned galra base? they got into a fistfight bc keith said lance was scrawny and they accidentally set off the base’s self-destruct sequence
they oscillate between not being able to be in the same room to developing these strange symbiotic relationships where keith gives lance his shirts to sew up and lance asks keith advice for why his punches don’t have any power. everyone else kinda smiles and doesn’t say anything.
keith: “i’m not getting into anymore dumbass debates with you” lance: “water is not wet” keith: “bitch how the fuck is water not wet it’s water–”
concept: merle always seems to have the one thing everyone needs at any given point. like, yeah he’s got a spare tampon and an ibuprofen and some bandaids but like… even the super weird specific thing you need like he has a dictionary on hand so you can win an argument about the definition of professional. he has a coupon for every fantasy retailer you could think of even though he only shops at costco. he’s got a stone of farspeech charger for every make and model even the old flip stones. you’re out walking and you’re like man this would be a good spot to have lunch. bam. pulls out a picnic blanket and some paper plates go to town my friends.
when will men stop acting like buff men being shirtless in superhero movies is ‘’’sexualization’’’ the same way it happens to women like no you dumbass the men in charge don’t give a fuck about the women watching, the fact that you think the male directors are thinking about female audience while making this kind of movies are laughable tbh if that was the case they’d treat the female characters with respect! its quite simple!
they show men being super muscular bc its about how strong and cool they look! an ass shots is not, in any way, the same! hypermasculinity is not sexualization! full stop!
What if their (Jamie and Claire’s) potential sex scene in 307 (at Lallybroch in the books) hadn’t been interrupted by Jenny?
His words rang in her ears as the grip of his hands against her wrists increased. She should have been incensed and she still did harbour some anger but the scent of sex in the air had extinguished enough of it to render it mute…just for the moment. At this point in time she’d channelled all of that energy into pure, undiluted carnal desire. Claire could feel his cock thrusting hard between her legs, a punishing rhythm that caused her thighs to clench around his arse.
Claire pushed, forcing Jamie onto his back as they clawed, tugging and pulling at one another in a desperate attempt to remove every article of clothing. Biting his lip as she kissed him, Claire tore at his shirt as Jamie shoved his hand into her socks and yanked them down her leg.
The fabric burned her flesh as the ties holding her stockings up stuck around her knees before Jamie’s harsh grip managed to tug them loose.
Sanity escaped her and in that moment all she could see, smell and taste was Jamie; his primal musk invading her senses as the fury blazed beneath her wanton skin. Agony simmered just beneath the surface as she tried to contain her tears, the very prominent image of Jamie with *Laoghaire* emerging through the mist, simultaneously pushing Claire over the edge.
One solitary sob fell from her lips, combined with a gasp as Jamie thrust himself inside her and her weeping began in earnest.
Jamie, lost to his own lascivious coated grief, could hardly open his eyes. Instead he simply felt the jarred motion Claire was creating over him as he met her hips with his own. They were still half dressed, half mauled by the other in their furious attempted to ravish and maim one another in the aftermath of his deceit and although he could feel her distress, he couldn’t move to stop himself for the moment to comfort her.
Nor did Claire want him to. She craved him, ached for him to bury himself over and over until he could hold on no longer. Claire wanted to feel him, the pulse of his pounding heart flowing into her own body as she rode him over and over. She was crying, cursing and taking him all in one go. She felt both weak and powerful all at the same time and it was intoxicating.
Her cheeks, wet with the moisture of her cheeks, burned red with passion and desire as she all but collapsed against his chest, pinning him to the floor with her knees still either side of the tops of his thighs as she ran the length of her chest against his. Her groin stayed parallel with his but instead of rising over him, now she - rather mercilessly - pummelled her crotch against his barely letting his cock slide from her, keeping him *deep* within her as her shaky hands buried themselves in his hair.
Jamie was a willing captive. Covered not only in the sweat and shame of his indiscretions, his face was now also coated in Claire’s shed tears. Salt water ran along his cheekbones and down onto his ears until they finally slid off his neck and onto the floor. She was sobbing more thoroughly now, the closer she came to her undoing, the more fraught her sorrow became and Jamie felt the horror as it swept through every inch of him, coming to rest in the marrow of his bones.
Rolling her over, he lay his body against hers and slowed his movements, making sure not to lose her in the midst of their torrid sexual encounter. He should have stopped it, he *should* have plucked her from the floor and done some much needed damage control, And, although he knew very well how much she craved this as much as he, he should have been the one to bring back some semblance of rationality and comprehension rather than indulge himself in Claire. No matter what; she needed comfort and he had selfishly cast aside any reason just to feel the sweet rush of intimacy with Claire - for what, he thought blearily, might be the last time on this mortal coil.
But he hadn’t.
Aware of the impending rush, Claire thrust her tongue against Jamie’s mouth, coaxing from him the most desirous noise as she clenched her arse and pushed her hips upwards. Still angry, upset, devastated and lost, she urged her body on as that most delectable of sins began its final rush along her exposed thighs. Tightening the muscles in her shoulders, she let her legs flop against the hard, cold floor as the pulse of her orgasm began to build, the tingling sensation of it prickling at her belly with each maddening thrust.
They came together, the feel of her grasping his cock, pulling him deeper and deeper until the warm tightness of her throbbed around him. The roar in their ears was deafening as they both cried out in both pleasure and emotional pain, their joint howls mournfully echoing around them as the crackle of the fire, finally, bested their harrowed embrace.
Pushing him away from her, Claire wrapped her quaking arms around her midriff, curling up on her side as she allowed her heartache to pull her under. Her sobs were uncontainable now, the fresh flow of tears tracking new lines across her rosy face as she tucked her knees up, crossing her feet as she felt the warm essence of Jamie at the crease of her thighs. Wanting to keep that small part of him with her, she tipped her chin downwards against her chest and clenched the muscles of her groin as if that in itself might help curtail the grief.
Jamie panted loudly, his chest hurting with the pressure of his orgasm combined with his own self-loathing. His actions had been abhorrent and he - in part - was loathed to comfort Claire in her darkest moment because he knew it had been his actions that had caused her breakdown.
She’d been right.
Laoghaire *had* tried (and very nearly succeeded) to have her murdered burned at the stake for witchcraft and even in his lowest moments, even with the burn of fatherhood and the stench of loss clinging to his feeble flesh, he should have considered -carefully- his options. But he still couldn’t bring himself to regret wee Joany and Marsali.
Plucking himself from the floor, Jamie crawled on his hands and knees until he faced Claire. Her face was aglow, the light of the fire casting pleasant shadows over her ivory skin as he slid beside her, wrapping his bare arms around her waist and pulling her tepid body against his.
She tried to resist a little, but the force of her sobbing sapped her strength and she, rather begrudgingly, flopped beneath his biceps, her head burrowing against his chest as the last of her tears fell.
“I told you,” she whispered, her voice no louder than a sigh, “I spoke of how *hard* it was. How much I battled with your loss. You *knew* I was alive…somewhere, damn you, Jamie, you knew! And yet…you did it…with her.” Claire tried not to fall into the vast chasm that opened up before her, but the pull of its lure was just too much. The image of Jamie lying as husband and wife with Laoghaire Mackenzie was the straw that had broken the proverbial camel’s back and all of her fears rushed through her brain as they had when she’d castigated him for his derogatory comments aimed at Brianna.
Claire had thought she’d known then. Thought that his opinions were a mixture of his 18th century sensibilities as well as his anguish at not raising his daughter. But now she knew that it also came from a place of fear. His ‘secret’ marriage to Laoghaire had obviously been playing heavily on his mind at the time and had come to the fore dressed as outrage at Claire’s parenting decisions.
Her heart broke all over again as she pictured the daughter she had left behind, the dull ache of loss penetrating her every nerve.
“I wish things were different,” she said, her voice hardening as Jamie shook beside her. “I wish we could’ve had our family and a good many more things besides. But I can’t change it now, and nor can you.”
Jamie’s heart stopped as all warmth dissipated from his body. He heard the finality to her words and although sated, he felt the distinct empty hollow of her loss open up in his chest once more. Her words reverberated through his brain as he tried to search her tone for any hope. But there was none.
“Ye canna leave me, Claire,” he begged, not caring how desperate he sounded, “we’re bound…you and I…”
“Maybe we once were,” she replied quickly, having to bite her lip to stop the tears from starting once again. “But I just don’t know whether we’re meant for one another anymore. Not now.”
“No,” Jamie interjected without taking a breath. The word came out as a sort of high pitched keen as his fingers locked around her middle, preventing her from moving at all. “No, sassenach,” he said, the desperation clear in his tone. “P-please…to lose you, I’ll die, I will, wi’out you. No’ now I’ve touch you once more, held ye, heard you talk about our daughter and seen her bonnie face. I canna simply go on. It was hard enough the first time. To send ye away and no’ to die in battle. For me to ken you existed somewhere and not be able to bring you home to me. My heart, my l-love, my own…” he blethered, barely breaking as he rushed out his monologue, his dry mouth causing his tongue to stick to the roof of it on every other word.
Now it was Jamie’s turn to cry, his shoulders shaking as he scrunched his nose up and hid his face in the soft clouds of her curls. His Scots accent had gotten thicker and thicker through his diatribe and Claire felt the relaxing waves of his soft burr, his chest rising and falling jaggedly against hers as he spoke and she could not deny that his words rang true.
Claire had seen it before, death caused by loss. The decay of the tissues around the heart leading to failure of the organ and the death of the remaining lover creeping in and inextricably binding the pair, forever in eternal rest. No sooner had the memory faded than Claire began to feel a familiar deadening in her feet - it was as if her choice to leave had started the process in her own body, the muscle tissue failing from the soles of her right foot, the disease of loss decaying her from the inside out.
Twitching her fingers against his back, Claire flexed her toes, testing the dexterity of them as if to try and shake the feeling of death. Her heart beat solidly on as she swallowed audibly.
“You feel it too,” Jamie said, no malice in his tone, only soft acceptance. “I ken it, you ken it…aye?”
“F-fuck,” Claire cursed, her sore red nose itching as she began to cry silently. “Yes I feel it,” she admitted, unable to hide anything from him now. “No matter how dark it is for you to use such emotional *fucking* blackmail on me now, I feel it.”
“Stay, please. I’ll do anything, Claire. I will *give* anything. Just stay, and let me make it right. I’m yours, sassenach,” he implored, “yours until I am no more. Now and forever. Gi’ me a chance to show you, mo nighean donn.”
“No more lies, Jamie,” Claire said, the dark mark of her ending fragmenting as she allowed him to change her mind, the shelter of his body bringing some measure of relief at the decision. “You must promise me that.”
“Aye, no more lies,” he acquiesced, “you’re my soulmate, Claire,” he implored. “When we were made it was meant that we should be one. Tis the only reason I think I lived through Culloden, sassenach,” he whispered, his trembling subsiding now as the cold night wore on. “I lived and you found me. It’s fate, aye?”
Hiccuping back a sob, Claire smiled at his words, the first easy smile for a day or two. They had ridden through hell and back and she’d be damned if she was going to let that little…bitch….take from her the one shining beacon that had kept her afloat through a twenty year stalemate.
No, Claire *had* come back and Jamie had lived. She knew their path wasn’t an easy one but together they could weather the storm and battle the often brutal and boisterous demons that threatened to topple them overboard.
“I love you Claire, please let it be enough,” Jamie sighed, moving his head so that his lips could softly caress the top of her head as his hands gently massaged the tiny ridges of her spine.
“I love you too,” she whispered in return. “Jamie Fraser…and yes, it is enough.”
Neither moved as the firelight dwindled, its heat flaring and encasing the two as they stared, nose to nose, into each other’s eyes, silence holding them hostage as the words ran dry. Shy contentment took the place of anguished animosity as the brittle atmosphere evaporated leaving only ashes and dust. Renewed, Claire and Jamie basked in the afterglow of the nuclear blast, their internal world devoid of life now as if the world they had once known had, finally and very abruptly, been condensed to rubble in one explosive act.
Claire licked her lips as she shimmied closer, a speck of life blossoming in the dense nothingness as her irises twinkled. Jamie’s mouth slipped into an easy smile, his tense muscles relaxing as he himself sensed the subtle shift. “Christ, I love you,” he muttered, nuzzling her nose as he closed his eyes. “Wi’ all that I am, even if that is only but a hint of the man you ought to have…”
“Hush,” she returned, “you’re right, Jamie. I *ought* to have you. Mistakes and all.”
“Aye, sassenach,’” he said, his lips trembling with increased emotion. “Mistakes and all.”
U.A.’s class 1-A had seen more combat than all other hero
classes in the nation. When they talked about these incidents among themselves,
late at night in the common room before the lights shut off for the night, they
tended to agree this was a good thing. They knew what heroing meant now. They
knew what they had signed up for. It was a scarier world than they had seen on
television, but it was one worth protecting.
The internships with Nighteye and Fatgum shook this resolve.
But they did not shatter it.
Kirishima’s internship continued after Midoriya’s had ended.
Kirishima mentioned from time to time how busy Fatgum seemed
behind closed doors, how often men showed up by the dozen for ‘talks’ with the
hero, how often Fatgum left seeming frustrated and angry after a long afternoon
holed up in the building’s conference room. Asui had seen it too. When Midoriya
asked All Might about it, All Might waved it off as the ‘bureaucratic nonsense’
heroes deal with once going professional. He told Midoriya not
to worry about it yet.
When senior year came around, the class was formally
introduced to it, under the name Hero Branding.
It had a simple explanation: the hero names they had picked
out freshman year were names for their brand, not themselves. ‘Deku’ was not
the person—he was the name of a public image, controlled carefully behind the
scenes by sponsors, agents, investors, and a team of PR staff. These people
never appeared publicly. They would ruin the image of a self-motivated hero
acting on his own resolve to save people. They worked behind the scenes. They
had the final say.
I still think we should start saying “if you’re a small government conservative, why do you have an iPhone?”, because most major technological components that made the iPhone possible were created by government research
Credit to Mariana Mazzucato’s “The Entrepreneurial State: Debunking the Public vs. Private Sector Myths”
One thing that has always irked me about the “Craig and Tweek are fake-dating for the town” argument (that’s basically dead now, like two people still think that) is that the Craig I know wouldn’t do shit for the town. He don’t give a fuck about anybody outside of his close friend group, much less any adults in town or even his own fucking family. Why the hell should he care? He wouldn’t care. If he really didn’t want to be with Tweek he’d probably just say that the town should go fuck themselves and get over it. Like, that’s what he’s done in any episode he’s in.