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im sorry u cannot make me believe a sexy album cover is a real problem. U can’t. Not even in a like "actually I think it’s satirical or subversive or a commentary on blah blah blah" kinda way tbh maybe she just likes giving bjs and having her hair pulled and that is the entire meaning. So???? I still cannot find it in my soul to be bothered. Get it girl i guess like. Who cares? Who really cares? Why do any of you care ???????? The fascists have won and you care about sex???? Why???????!!!!!

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“why bother writing bisexual characters if they just end up in a m/f relationship”

my dude

my guy

my pal

stop talking forever

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kitten I’ll be honest the finality of everything in this world haunts daddy like a second shadow

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meaning - @wolfstarmicrofic - word count: 446

“Did you hear Lily and Mary kissed at the party last night?” Remus asked casually, Sirius’s feet on his lap as both of them relaxed on a couch and studied for their upcoming exam. 

“Really?” Sirius gasped, closing his book. “Finally, eh?”

“You’d think,” Remus scoffed. “But Lily swears it didn’t mean anything. All in good fun, and all that.”

Sirius sat for a moment, clearly contemplating. “D’you think it’s possible? To kiss someone like that? And it have no meaning?”

Remus frowned, trying to figure out what Sirius meant. “I mean…yeah. You’ve kissed Prongs before. It didn’t mean anything, right?”

“Right. So…you think you can kiss a friend, and it won’t change anything?” Sirius pushed, and Remus felt his heart rate increase. What was he getting at?

“Erm…sure? Yeah, I mean…depends on the situation, but–”

“You know, we’ve never kissed.”

If Remus had been eating, he surely would’ve choked. As it was, he barely was able to breathe properly. “No, we haven’t,” he agreed, trying to figure out if he was dreaming.

“We…we could. S’only fair. I’ve kissed Prongs, after all,” Sirius shrugged, like his logic was completely sound.

Remus almost pointed out that, with this thought process, Sirius would also have to kiss Peter. But he decided not to. “Right. Makes sense,” he nodded vigorously.

“And it’s…just a friend-kiss,” Sirius murmured, sitting up and moving toward Remus hesitantly, the air growing hot and tense. “Completely normal.”

“Normal,” Remus echoed, his palms going sweaty as he stared into Sirius’s gray eyes.

“Just…to make things fair, you know?”

“Yeah. Fair,” he mumbled, nodding and gazing at Sirius’s beautiful, plump, pink lips, nearly fainting when the other boy’s tongue flicked out of his mouth in a seemingly-involuntary movement to wet them. 

“Moons?” Sirius asked softly, leaning forward so his breath fanned over Remus’s face, making him dizzy.

“Yeah?”

“Just so you know…James and I used tongue. Just to…keep things even, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, I–”

He was cut off my Sirius’s lips on his, and fuck, both his thoughts and breath completely left his body. Before he could properly process what was going on, Sirius was half-on-top of him, straddling his waist, licking into his mouth, groaning as Remus’s hands moved of their own accord, gripping Sirius’s sinfully tiny waist, rucking his shirt up and pressing into his skin.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groaned when Sirius moved to suck a spot into his neck. “Sirius, wait!”

The little whining noise Sirius made was beautiful, and Remus nearly lost his nerve when he heard it. But he had to know. Gazing at lust-blown pupils, he demanded, “Tell me it wasn’t like this with James.”

“Fuck, no.”

“Thank Merlin.”

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"For women, only one standard of female beauty is sanctioned: the girl. The great advantage men have is that our culture allows two standards of male beauty: the boy and the man. The beauty of a boy resembles the beauty of a girl. In both sexes it is a fragile kind of beauty and flourishes naturally only in the early part of the life-cycle. Happily, men are able to accept themselves under another standard of good looks — heavier, rougher, more thickly built. A man does not grieve when he loses the smooth, unlined, hairless skin of a boy. For he has only exchanged one form of attractiveness for another: the darker skin of a man’s face, roughened by daily shaving, showing the marks of emotion and the normal lines of age. There is no equivalent of this second standard for women. The single standard of beauty for women dictates that they must go on having clear skin. Every wrinkle, every line, every gray hair, is a defeat. No wonder that no boy minds becoming a man, while even the passage from girlhood to early womanhood is experienced by many women as their downfall, for all women are trained to want to continue looking like girls." — Excerpt from Susan Sontag's 1978 essay The Double Standard of Aging

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ok im going to #seriouspost for a second here. I don't think Harry Potter is a manifesto. I think it was a flawed passion project that millennials latched onto because of the fantasy of sticking it to their mean teachers and arbitrarily categorizing themselves (hogwarts houses; it's the thinking millennial's astrology). I think the fact that the series got popular when and how it did was very much a product of its time.

I don't think Harry Potter is the biggest symbol of JKR's bigotry. I think the most flagrant sign of that was how she responded to critics. I watched her become radicalized in real time. I watched how she doubled down on her racism when she was called out for the ways she promoted her tragically mid fantastic beasts movies. I watched her chase marginalized teenagers with a double digit follower count off of twitter for daring to criticize her thought process, and no one with any kind of power standing against her because she was the one who was paying them. This isn't to say Harry Potter is without flaws. This is to say she really didn't give a shit about that. Getting rich and powerful is a hell of a drug, and she had enough sycophants that she had no reason to care about what her critics were saying.

She was convinced that she was a martyr; a voice for the unheard; a leader for the ages, so of course her detractors were the bad guys. And I think we should take this to heart. We should see this as an example of how easy it is to get radicalized; if you think of yourself as a paragon of virtue, you are going to think that whatever you see as good and right is an objective fact. Most people don't know this, but the majority of terfs start out as trans allies. You are not immune to propaganda! You are not immune to falling into dangerous ideologies!!!

This is why the most important thing you can do as an activist is to listen. Do NOT think you're above being wrong; do NOT develop a god complex; do NOT form an identity out of being right all the time. Involve yourselves in the groups you claim to speak for. Listen to trans women; share resources that help trans women; familiarize yourself with the diversity of experiences that trans people have and the struggles they face.

No, none of you are as bad as JKR because you don't have her money or her power. You will likely never have the capacity for harm she does. But check yourselves. Do not affirm yourselves into thinking you always have the moral high ground. Watch yourselves; humble yourselves; check yourselves for signs of cult behavior and internalized prejudice. You are always learning. You will always be learning. Do not allow yourselves to get a power trip from brushing off marginalized voices.

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Things almost every author needs to research

How bodies decompose

Wilderness survival skills

Mob mentality

Other cultures

What it takes for a human to die in a given situation

Common tropes in your genre

Average weather for your setting

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The mockingbird, the jabberjay and the mockingjay 🕊️ inspired by this post by @fromevertonow

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This YouTube comment has been on my mind since I finished SOTR so this is what I came up with:

Lucy Gray was the mockingbird, living on the outskirts of district 12 and was there at the wrong time when they were forced to stay there after the Dark Days. They were subjected to the Capitol’s politics despite not being a part of Panem, technically speaking. Lucy Gray became part of the Games and, likewise, the mockingbird became affiliated with the Capitol through the jabberjay’s release into the woods, but it still continued to sing its own song.

Haymitch was the jabberjay, a Capitol tool that did what it had to in order to survive. The Capitol thought they could control them, but they retaliated in the form of rebellion. Haymitch refused to be a piece in their game and tried to end it, and the jabberjay, in the eyes of the Capitol, created a freak of nature that showed the Capitol’s lack of complete control.

Katniss was the mockingjay, a slap in the face of the Capitol, something that was never meant to exist. Together, the song of the mockingbird that lived on for generations and the stubbornness of the jabberjay that refused to die, the mockingjay had the best of both worlds. It was a symbol of rebellion and unity.

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made them all

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I can understand why Orpheus turned around.

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Guys genuinely sobbing to this. Omg Omg omg omg😭😭😭😭

The tragedy of Regulus Black

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"it's all in your head" correct! unfortunately I am also in there

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*insert Achilles’s quotes about Patroclus and how he would know him by smell alone* *insert the fic Staying Strangers (aka a fic I’m super fucking obsessed with) and Remus comparing Sirius to Achilles and how they are them reincarnated* *insert me wanting to cry because that love is so tender and strong and soul-grabbing that it transcends lifetimes*

April 3 - Obscuro

Prompt 3 @wolfstarmicrofic words: 484

ABBA blasted from the speakers of the record player in the corner of the common room , barely audible over the cheering and whooping coming from Remus’ friends.

“Remus, it’s your turn,” Marlene said from behind him, having just come back from a successful guess.

Remus shook his head, declining as he took a sip of his drink. He was vaguely aware that he probabaly shouldn’t be drinking anymore. A warm feeling had spread through his bones and every light and voice had become pleasantly dim but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

But no matter how drunk he was there was no way he was playing this stupid party game, guessing someone from a line of people by practically groping him. He was severely concerned for the complete and utter boredom someone had been through to come up with this game.

Currently, James, Sirius, Mary and a few older students were standing in a line as potential guesses.

A chant carried around the circle.

“Re-mus! Re-mus! Re-mus!”

The alcohol took hold of Remus and his mouth moved without his consent. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

The circle erupted into cheers.

Before Remus could so much as blink Peter had charmed a blindfold over his eyes and two hands had been wrapped around his shoulders. He heard the distant murmuring of discussion from the line of people deciding who they should send for Remus to guess. As soon as it stopped the hands around his shoulders pushed Remus forward into an alcohol warm chest.

Remus stumbled back immediately, reclaiming his bubble of personal space. He took a moment to steal himself before thrusting his hands forward, they landed on a pair of bony shoulders.

Okay, probably wasn’t James, Remus thought. They’d be broader and more muscular. It could be any one of the older students though.

Remus’ hands said down to meet the mystery persons own. Immediately, the breath left his lungs.

Those hands, he could recognise those hands anywhere.

Those were the hands he had stared at, tapping on a desk absentmindedly during class.

Those were the hands that were smoother than any of the girls’, always well manicured and moisturised.

Those were the hands that Remus had thought of reaching out and holding for the past two years. Remus would never admit it but sometimes at night when the weight of his blankets seemed crushing, and the gentle breath of his best friend seemed so far away, he clasped his own and imagined they were someone else’s as he drifted off to sleep.

“S-Sirius?” He questioned once he had gotten his voice back.

The circle erupted into cheers again. Remus’ vision was restored and he was met with Sirius’ dazzling smile.

“I think that was the quickest one yet,” Sirius said, clapping him on the back.

Remus hoped he had turned away before the other boy could see his reddening cheeks.

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Oh the Black sisters. How you live in my heart and how I think of you so much.

Bellatrix Black, who was never told “I love you” by her parents so she never said it to her sisters, either. She believed that actions spoke louder and those words weren’t needed (because if they were necessary, someone would have said them to her).

Andromeda Black, who was never told “I love you” by her parents or older sister but Bellatrix made sure she felt loved nonetheless, in a way Cygnus and Druella never did for either of them. Andromeda, however, did care about words. She hated that those three were a taboo in her house (especially because she knew the love existed).

Narcissa Black, who was told “I love you” by her sister, Andromeda, and only her. When she felt like she wasn’t like the rest of her family because of her name, it was Andromeda who made her feel special for being different rather than letting her feeling like an imposter. So it was when Andromeda was disowned that Narcissa stopped believing in those words, too. If the only person who said that was also the person who abandoned her, it really didn’t mean anything and her parents and Bellatrix had the right idea all along.