#actually yeah maybe you did

[ziglikesrain]

alrightyyy i think it might be time to step up and give my two cents on the hatred the marauders fandom receives. i’ve (1) received a death threat??? on tumblr?? for being a marauders fan?? which actually made me giggle a little bit bc you’re telling me to kill myself for liking gay wizards from the 70s? cmon now. that’s a bit silly. a silly goose move, if you will.

and, (2) i watched a group of kids in the queer lit class i TA for bully a student because they liked the marauders. (not bc they thought it was cringy, but bc of its association with jk rowling). OKAY Y’ALL. NO. you can hate on me, an adult, i can take it, but a fifteen year old? they’re fifteen! they don’t owe you anything! being a teenager is for fawning over books and other stupid things. LET THEM LIVE!!

so i supposed now was a good time to give my thoughts, because even though i know it’s not going to, i think this discourse is genuinely childish and needs to end.

when it comes down to it, what matters here is queer joy. if you look past the fact that the marauders fandom is made up almost exclusively of headcannons, and jk rowling pretty much hates our guts, what actually matters is that people are happy. i’m being so real when i say that the VAST MAJORITY of marauders fans are queer — we needed a safe, inclusive space away from the golden trio era and all the problems that THEY have — and so what that gives you is angry queer people yelling at other queer people for being ??homophobic??

jk rowling is a horrible, awful, transphobic person. no one disagrees here. people are being hurt by her actions, and queer joy is being diminished. but then you have marauders fans, who are enjoying works that are created (only) by fans, and making this amazing space for fellow queer people. the passion that people have for these characters is the epitome of queer joy, and i just can’t wrap my head around why other queer people would want to spread more hatred and sadness by telling them they can’t enjoy something they love.

we need to wake up and realize that we’ve been sucked into this vicious cycle that jkr has perpetuated. by being angry at people who have virtually no connection to her, you give her what she wants, which is to spread hate within the LGBTQ community. i simply see no need to be spiteful towards people because of what they love. it’s the antithesis of everything queer culture stands for.

there is so much hatred in the world, especially right now, and i feel like it applies to everything and everyone when i say that there is no need, under any circumstances, to be actively hateful towards people who are just living their lives. want to send hate mail to jk rowling herself? be my fucking guest. but stop harassing people you don’t know over the internet over a problem they didn’t cause and are doing nothing to spread.

takeaways because i know that was long and tedious to read:

- jk rowling does not profit from marauders fanfiction or fanart

- marauders fans hate her just as much as you do

- if you go online to spread hate towards people, you are doing the exact. same. thing. that she is.

- a vast majority of marauders fans are queer, you’re barking up the wrong tree by calling us homophobic or transphobic

- just don’t harass people on the internet. or in person. why do you need me to tell you that????????

- if u are a queer person attacking queer people because of jk rowling, you’re giving her what she wants

- spread queer joy! it’s that simple my loves

[anonymouspuzzler]

cool real thing that happened to me on the way to pax

[moeblob]

A lil guy !

[b4kuch1n]

red lion wizard !

[nadiajustbe]

I'm almost certainly sure that every time Sophie describes "that" smile Howl has that Lettie and his other past girlfriends have fallen for, he's actually just... smiling. No anger or moodiness, just a warm Howl's smile and nothing more.

But the whole story is that no matter how much she grumbles about how he shouldn't use his smile on all these people and what a jerk he is, the truth is that no one actually fell for it. Except for her. And no one finds that crooked grin all that attractive. Except for her.

[redhotarsenic]

@nowfallc PICTURE!! FOR YOU!! PLEASE TAKE IT!! <3

[suja-janee]

I love Lucy Maclean, she’s such a sweetheart

[lovesickeros]

☆ you sow; & thus you shall reap what you are owed

{☆} characters tsaritsa {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, violence {☆} word count 0.8k

You are dying.

Gold melts into the dirt, bleeds into the very earth that you'd molded by your own hands – a familiarity you do not understand the source of – you know it to be true, yet you do not remember it as Teyvat does. It weeps, in turn, for the way you bleed upon it, the way your lungs strain for breath.

It is fury and sorrow and fear and hatred so raw that your mind buckles.

You will die.

"A dying godling and its judge, it's jury – it's executioners," The voice is hollow and cold, sweeps across your broken body like the first chill of winter, "Archons who saw themselves Gods, now brought to heel by their own hubris."

A cold hand upon your cheek, the brush of a thumb across your lip, the gentle caress of cold across your skin. You know her – you don't remember, you shouldn't recognize her but you do – and she knows you. The cold beckons and you follow, let her kindness settle in the hollow space of your chest. You want to speak, to cry and scream and rage, let the world burn around you in a fit of flames so hot even she cannot contain it – but she silences you, quiets the anger seeping into your blood, quiets Teyvat itself.

"Do not speak, little godling. Guide my hand," She is cold; her hands are not gentle, yet it is bliss compared to the callous, cruel hands that have shattered you. She is cruel and cold and brutal but she is love in the way she kisses the crown of your head. She is love in the way she is the bulwark between you and the world that has scorned you – she is fury in the way she brings them to their knees. "And I shall enact judgement most divine."

They will pray for forgiveness, and they shall find themselves wanting.

"It wasn't our fault!" They cry, but you cannot recognize the voice – it breaks and cracks like glass. "They were too human. How were we meant to know? We– we thought they were.."

Silence.

You watch your judge – the executioner, the blade that shall carve their sins into the very marrow of Teyvat, stand above you like death. As cold as winter and just as brutal. Your temple has been painted in the gold of your divine blood, and she shall complete the masterpiece with their own. The Archons shall become the grandest art in the world – this temple the canvas, their blood the paint and their bodies the palette. The cold that cuts sinew cradles you – it sings to you, whispers sweetly in your ear and carves bone from body in the same breath. The cold presses it's lips to your wrist and it cradles a heart within it's palm – judges them and finds them guilty.

It is her spear that rests between their ribs, her sword that dissects and her dagger that carves – the cold devours.

In the breadth of this divine sanctuary, the Archons dwindle. They become the pieces of a divine work of art, they bleed and bend and break upon her hands. She shakes the heavens and carves mortality into the bones of the divine – your word is Law, and you weave their deaths into the roots of Teyvat itself.

They shall know of their grand folly in every moment henceforth and longer still and they shall weep.

And as the curtain falls, as the world crumbles beneath fist and blade, she cradles your face between hands too cold – as gentle as a shard of ice between your ribs, as brutal as the kiss of gentle snowfall. The world buckles at the loss of six, but she alone does not allow it to break – you will have to mend the wounds of the world when you are well, but today you weep and Teyvat weeps with you.

And alone, the cold remains.

Stone has eroded, the wind has ceased, the flames have been extinguished, the storm has been silenced, the forests have gone quiet and the seas go still.

But the cold remains, bathed in gold.

It wraps you in thick furs, cradles you against the winter storm that brews beneath a veneer of composure. It brings you home – lets the world settle into a stillness and silence that inspires only dread and still she presses a kiss to your brow.

It is cold, but there has never been something so warm.

Where hands have broken you, she drapes you in furs, wipes away the thick gold that clings to your skin. She pieces you back together where you have been shattered, reshapes you where you have been bent – makes of you something new. Not a god and not a mortal but something wedged between them.

But you are yourself.

And you are where you belong.

They shall put you back together and you shall know only the worship worthy of the divine. They shall carve this world into your image, tear out and burn away the rot that festers.

All you need to do is say the word and they shall be your tools to make this world your own.

One word and those who wronged you shall burn, too.

Just one word. That's all it takes, and they shall take away your pain.

[only-lonely-www]

So basically ATLA brain rot has hit me like a truck

[soaqrudyz]

they’re in the rec room one dreary afternoon, rain is pouring outside, shaking the walls of the base, and all soap really wanted was a cigarette. he’d been stressed, needlessly, helplessly, and now his one healthy means of escapism is gone, too. he’s about ready to explode, pacing the room like a caged animal, muttering senseless complaints and half baked sentences under his breath.

he’s startled out of his back and forth pace by gaz’s hand on his chest. a snarl finds its way to his lips and he has to fight to keep from spewing all the nasty, venomous thoughts that lay behind his lips.

“you need to chill out, mate” gaz drawls, pushing him ever so slightly backwards. his feet follow, trusting, even through his sour disposition.

“think i don’t know that?” he snaps, “i fuckin’ can’t.”

“that’s why i’m here to help. you’re bringing the whole base down, and you’ll wear a hole in the floor with all that stomping around.”

they walk back until soap is knocked onto the ratty sofa that price found god knows where. gaz maneuvers soap’s head to rest on the arm, his muscles wound tight despite being stretched out. he’s angry. angry and confused and he didn’t fucking like the rain, why did it always have to rain?

“ghost.” gaz calls, and soap notices his looming presence for the first time that day. which was a little shocking, considering the fact that soap could (and had, he’d won 70 quid off the stupid bet) pick ghost out in a crowd blindfolded just from the feeling of his stare alone.

soap realizes he might’ve been more out of it than he realized. the embarrassment only makes his blood run hotter.

“this some sort of intervention?” he growled, hands balled into tight fists.

gaz rolls his eyes and leaves, muttering a quiet “good luck with that.” to ghost and patting his shoulder as he passed.

his brain was a mess, he needed to get back up, needed to do something, fucking anything. the restlessness makes his fingers twitch, makes him burn from the inside out, he’s so god damn angry he could burst into flames.

and then ghost flops down right on top of him, and everything but the roiling thunder outside goes quiet. ghost is a big guy, pure muscle with a (very attractive) bit of fat around his middle. he was twice, maybe three times soap’s weight, no matter how much bulk he was putting on.

he’s overwhelmed by the man. his hands and legs are completely pinned. the weight on his chest forces him to take deeper breaths, which, in turn, make his tense muscles relax. the smell of ghost’s shampoo and detergent makes him dizzy, the soft cotton of his balaclava rubs against his cheek, and soap is mortified to find out he’s getting sleepy.

his eyes try to close, but he jerks himself awake each time. ghost is warm. like a big fuzzy blanket fresh out of the dyer, and really after the day he had, who could blame him for letting go for a minute?

“feels nice..” he slurs, eyes slipping shut again, but this time he doesn’t bother prying them back open.

“go to sleep, johnny.” ghost sighs, an exasperated little thing, and soap can feel the vibration of his voice all the way down to the tips of his toes.

he listens, if not only because it was raining outside and he couldn’t smoke a cigarette.

[poliffwoog]

school scribblies: goober edition

[sacchiri]

Hellsing 2002 calendar illustration.

Ein wunderliche und erschröckliche Hystori von einem großen Wüttrich genant Dracole wayda Der do so ganz unkristenliche marrter hat angelegt die mensche, als mit spissen als auch die leut zu Tod geslyffen

A wondrous and frightening story about a great berserk called Dracula the voivode who inflicted such unchristian tortures such as with stakes and also dragged people to death

[never-ending-pizza-time]

I think some people forget that peppino can be kind of a jerk. He's not your perfect awkward nervous guy who can do no wrong, he is not perfect, but that doesn't make him a bad guy. He has flaws, because thats a normal human thing to have.

Sometimes he gets angry and a bit mean, sometimes he takes joy in beating the shit out of the tower residents, sometimes he gets selfish or says something mean to someone. His anxiety is not his only flaw, please don't forget that. He is not a perfect sunshine boy who can do no wrong. He is not nice and friendly 100% of the time. He is a human person, he is a complex being who cannot be easily defined as completely good or completely bad.

Sometimes good people do shitty things. Sometimes a person will not act in the kindest way possible. Sometimes someone will do something not realising (or caring) how it makes others feel. Sometimes people have bad days. Sometimes people make mistakes. Sometimes people are wrong.

Peppino is a human, he is not immune to being a jerk sometimes. Again, this doesn't make him a bad person, it just makes him human, and I don't want people to forget that and misinterpret him as being someone whos only flaw is his anxiety. Yes it is a key part of his character, but theres more to this guy than that, thats not his only flaw or imperfection or whatever you want to call it. He's not 'kind perfect guy who also has anxiety', theres more detail to who he is than that.

Peppino can be a bit mean, Peppino can be hotheaded, and you know what? Thats okay because thats what a person is like sometimes, and that is a sign of a complex and realisticly written character (even if he is a cartoon guy, his personality still feels realistic). He's not the same guy all of the time, he doesnt respond to every situation in the same way, he's not a one note character. Sometimes he sucks as a person, but its okay because despite all that, he's a loveable and endearing character, and he isn't a horrible terrible person, he just is human, and thats okay.

[harbingersecho]

[moeblob]

@chormine-mutacerta

buddy, help me, your designs.... they are such a chefs kiss.... I hope I did okay with an outfit for Nessa.

[swan2swan]

I knew rewatching this show with Knowledge would change things, because oh my gosh, look at Sammy hugging Ben and Darius for one second each, and then just locking herself around Yaz.

Texas is dropping HUGE hints and trying to clue this beautiful track star in, and Yaz is Absolutely Clueless.