On this Pride Month I would just like to say that Black Sails really made all of its four seasons and 38 episodes into an expression of gay rage against homophobic brutality and the unbearable loss of love, especially in that tragic context, and that’s still one of the most breathtaking things that any TV show has done, ever.
It's June 1st! That means IT'S FUCKING PRIDE MONTH!!!!!!!!!!!!! LET'S GOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Anyways, so I drew my favorite ships for it! This is the last drawing I made on my laptop before it's screen went to shit, but I did try my best, with a shit ton of experimenting with this one, I eventually got something I liked out of it, which turned out to be this, I'm honestly very proud of it, anyways I hope you all like it!! :D
Pre-canon, the Walrus crew takes a ship with an unexpected captive on board: A mermaid, shackled below deck. James wouldn't believe it if he weren't seeing it with his own eyes—especially when he sees the mermaid's face. He's heard tales of such creatures changing their appearance to match the likeness of an observer’s loved one, but witnessing it in reality is something else altogether. What he does not realize yet is that the encounter will change his life forever.
Being a girl is: wanting to go to bed early but deciding to just get on tumblr/wattpad/Ao3 for a little bit and then end up finding a fic series that you really like and read until well past your usual bedtime then keeping on because it’s already past your bedtime. Then being mad when you wake up in the morning because you overslept your timer.
That feeling when a fandom got you on a chokehold so bad that you started being active on tumblr again, resurfacing to the streets of tumblr like that one character that everyone thought was dead.
Brief Description: You're tired and your boyfriend's making sure you're getting to sleep.
Point of View: 2nd Person
Word Count: 454
Character: Character not specified; Multifandom x Reader, whatever character you so desire x Reader
It was movie night, like every Friday night, and you and your boyfriend had just sat down to pick something to watch.
As your boyfriend was scrolling through your movie options, out of the corner of his eyes he saw you yawn. He smiles like a lovesick fool at how cute you look when tired.
Turning to you, he chuckles quietly asking, "Tired, baby?"
"Extremely," you reply in a soft voice, leaning against his side.
He throws an arm over your shoulders, pulling you onto his lap. You shift slightly, trying to find a comfortable position before you lean your head against his chest.
"What time did you go to bed last night?" he asks you softly, brushing your hair out of your eyes.
You shrug, answering, "I don't know."
He rolls his eyes affectionately at you, pressing his lips to your temple, which only causes you to melt into his embrace more.
"What was the last time you saw on the clock?" your boyfriend rephrases his question.
Your eyebrows furrow together in thought, your boyfriend's heart melts just a little bit more at the sight. God, you're gorgeous.
He never thought he could fall in love before, let alone this in love. Every little thing you've done and will continue to do since he met you has only made his heart beat stronger for you.
"One twenty ... something," you respond.
Your boyfriend's arms tighten around you, holding you closer as he asks in worry, "You went to bed that late?"
With a small giggle, you reply, "I went to bed like two hours after that."
He makes a sound between a sigh and a laugh, bringing you closer to his chest as he presses a series of kisses to your face.
"Baby, you need to sleep more," he gently scolds you, smiling down at you with that same lovesick smile.
"I know," you whisper back, nuzzling your face into his chest.
Getting a sudden idea, your boyfriend twists around on the couch, laying down across it as he settles you onto his chest.
"How about we play the movie as background noise so you can sleep?" he suggests, running his hand through your hair as you snuggle deeper into his chest.
"Sounds good," you mumble, yawning once more.
He kisses the top of your head, clicking on your favourite movie as his arms encircle your waist, keeping you close.
"I love you," he mutters, nuzzling his face into your hair, smiling at the smell of your shampoo.
God, he was whipped.
"I love you too, sweetheart," you mumble back, closing your eyes as the feeling of your boyfriend's finger running through her hair and the warmth of his embrace lulls you to sleep.
Everyone asks what I read and truth be told I learned a lot of politics through experience and listening to Black revolutionaries.
There is nothing- nothing- that I say on my blog that Malcom X or James Baldwin or Frantz Fanon or Thomas Sankara or Frederick Douglass didn't say first (and much more eloquently)
Further, their words have given me the tools to think critically about not just my place, but everyone else's and what we owe each other.
I myself, wouldn't have a Lot of the politics I do had I not been exposed to the ideas they talked about with such knowledge and experience. Whether it was by following activists or looking up things up or learning about them myself, they're influential and I would even say foundational to decolonization and dismantling white supremacy.
My usual recs are Wretched of the Earth and Braiding Sweetgrass, but those are just starters since people just usually ask where to begin.
So I wanted to make this post and for them to be Very Much credited for the following I have and my politics since I don't often mention them.
For example, I talk a lot about how the comfort of the privileged is an obstacle that stems directly from their privilege. How libs who only conditionally support peaceful protests don't understand what's necessary; that challenging the status quo can't be done comfortably and it's never been "peaceful" for the oppressing classes. How it's detrimental to progress to compromise on how we fight for our rights and to have been liberals telling us we demand too much.
Frederick Douglass:
Frantz Fanon:
Privileges multiply and corruption triumphs…Today the vultures are too numerous and too voracious in proportion to the lean spoils of the national wealth. The party, a true instrument of power in the hands of the bourgeoisie, reinforces the machine, and ensures that the people are hemmed in and immobilised.
Thomas Sankara:
Malcom X:
James Baldwin:
In a way, I owe the invitation to the incredible, abysmal, and really cowardly obtuseness of white liberals. Whether in private debate or in public, any attempt I made to explain how the Black Muslim movement came about, and how it has achieved such force, was met with a blankness that revealed the little connection that the liberals' attitudes have with their perceptions or their lives, or even their knowledge—revealed, in fact, that they could deal with the Negro as a symbol or a victim but had no sense of him as a man.
Bonus MLK Jr quote:
Over the last few years many Negroes have felt that their most troublesome adversary was not the obvious bigot of the Ku Klux Klan or the John Birch Society, but the white liberal who is more devoted to “order” than to justice, who prefers tranquillity to equality. In a sense the white liberal has been victimized with some of the same ambivalence that has been a constant part of our national heritage. Even in areas where liberals have great influence— labor unions, schools, churches and politics—the situation of the Negro is not much better than in areas where they are not dominant. This is why many liberals have fallen into the trap of seeing integration in merely aesthetic terms, where a token number of Negroes adds color to a white-dominated power structure."
Whether your medium is a PDF, a book, movie, clips, quotes, podcast, whatever. However you digest info easiest: learn about them and their words. Think about them. Talk about it and process it with friends.
That's how you shape your politics to be similar to the ones you find on my blog.
I like that a big part of the Sambucky relationship is often just Sam giving Bucky full permission to be a little fucked up. Not in the sense that he recognizes his mental problems, but also because he sometimes just shrugs and allows Bucky's worst instincts to take over. (Which is mostly a fandom thing, but a small part of canon too, since Sam went with Bucky's plan to free Zemo with very little push-back, for example..)
It gave me the idea for a story where after Hydra everyone around Bucky wants him to move on from his traumas and heal, but Sam gives him the space to also be furious and unhinged about that. Like... all the other people would say: "what they did to you was awful, but the best revenge is to live a happy life <3". And Sam's like... "no, the best revenge is to wake them up with a gun to the temple in the middle of the night and to burn down their home, actually. here's a lighter, are you free this weekend, handsome?".
I don't mean to say that other people don't understand Bucky's anger, but they believe it'd be healthier for him to deal with the pain only by finding hobbies, adopting a pet, eating nice food etc. Whereas Sam offers all those things with an extra dose of pure vengeance. One night he takes Bucky out to a nice restaurant. The next night he stands aside as Bucky beats the shit out of some doctor, who experimented on him in 1989 and then helps him cover it up.
This dynamic would probably work better in a AU with no powers where they're regular people and where Bucky's been kidnapped or integrated into a cult that ruined his life. But it could apply to the canon too, in some ways.
I just like the the idea of all the well-meaning people in Bucky life trying to put as big of a distance between him and his abusers as possible... While Sam - who everyone sees as a rational almost-pacifist with a lot of empathy - helps his boyfriend hunt these abusers for sport.
For a moment, James wondered if he was hallucinating, but a glance at Gates told him they were both struggling to believe it. They were looking at a merman. He seemed to be asleep, face turned away from them and breathing steadily.
Stepping cautiously around the table to get a closer look, James took in the creature’s anatomy with growing fascination and then stopped, frozen, when he saw his face. It was a face he’d know anywhere. It was a face he could find in a crowd of five thousand. It was Thomas’s face.
The creature opened his eyes, meeting James’s gaze. He did not look afraid. In fact, he looked happy, smiling just as Thomas might have. If it weren’t for the glowing irises, it would have been a perfectly identical match.
That feeling when a fandom got you on a chokehold so bad that you started being active on tumblr again, resurfacing to the streets of tumblr like that one character that everyone thought was dead.