#org

[rruffian]

just layers and layers to this thing, huh.

[lantern-hill]

get in loser we're romanticising "winter"

[plant-ago]

@quiddie’s use of color and symbolism for Suvi is fantastic. Not only does she wear pretty much exclusively citadel colors (blue) despite her favorite color being red, but her blue hair is a result of flying too close to the sun as a child… getting too excited about the promise of wizardly power in the erith depository, and when she tried to channel it through herself, it nearly killed her, and (I assume) left her with permanently white hair, so that she now dyes it blue. She was so enamored with wonders of the citadel that she gave up a part of herself to become a part of it. It has molded her in ways that she does not fully understand, and she must put parts of herself aside to allow that.

I’m feeling a little emotional about the Sky having to be blue all the time, but secretly liking red better.

[l3m0nflavoredg1fs]

Orange Candy Platter / Layout Image

[kneipe]

leipzig 2023

[ddeonuluvrr]

🍧 ੭ ‧₊ 你是我唯一爱的人 ₊˚· ⊹

.‧₊˚ ˖ ˚｡ ˙ ࣪ 我唯一能爱的人 ˚｡⋆ ༄

໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ ˖. ⁺ 🪷 ⋆ ˚₊‧

[niinachan]

No one wants to take a look inside your head … they’d lock you up once they took a peek…

And so, it had been a steadfast no. Especially her.

Granger.

He could only imagine what she thought about him already. Never mind what she would think if she ever actually saw inside of his head.

And it would probably be nothing good at all.

His mouth went dry.

Did she think he would be a gentle lover? Did she think he would light candles and make love on a bed of roses?

Rather have the fucking thorns…

He knew rough. He knew passion.

He knew how to take what he wanted will full consent, even when he was losing control. He knew how to pleasure a woman.

But he had never wanted to ruin another woman sexually like he did with Hermione fucking Granger. He wanted to leave marks on her that she could never recover from. He wanted her in the worst of ways; he wanted to torture her body with the type of pleasure that would have her begging for him to fucking stop.

He wanted her to think only of him whenever she thought of sex.

Being younger, he thought he had just wanted to hurt her to make her think of him. But now all he wanted to do was cause her extreme pleasure. Pleasure that mixed with the idea of pain… right there, on the cusp. The type of pleasure that he had been denied through no fault but his own for so long.

And it was all because of her.

ORG : @Ada_P_Rix

[hallofhelios]

Going through the fire drill test w everyone at work and, well, thank you for getting yourself out the building... did you want to ring someone about the fire at all? Yes, good. 911? No, it may take them a while to get here to us in the UK

[rruffian]

ruth st. denis

[lantern-hill]

first full pair of socks! pattern by sandracdesigns on ravelry

[plant-ago]

An Open Letter to Dan and Phil

Dear beloved nerds,

This was originally going to be an (even longer) actual letter that I was going to give to you at the tour, but my nonprofit-employed ass can’t afford a meet and greet, so we’re doing this instead. I promise it’s not just trauma dumping— mostly, it’s about saying thank you and trying to cultivate some hope for all of us.

I’ve been a big fan since around 2014, when I was a mentally ill neurotic deeply repressed loner egg (average phannie, let's be honest). Now I’m a whole adult who got therapy and HRT and has joined the legions of transmascs with the Dan Howell haircut! What a legacy.

I’m making jokes because the thing I actually want to talk about, and the reason I decided to make this an open letter, is kind of serious. But in light of the election, I feel like I need to share this, both with you and with all the other queers in this little corner of the internet.

Here’s the gist: I’m a paralegal at a non-profit organization that works to help queer migrants get asylum. Mostly what I do is sit them down in our nasty sterile office and try to be kind, and help them get through telling me all the most terrible things that have happened to them, and then turn around and pare it all down into legalese that is digestible to the government to make the case they should get asylum.

It’s a horrible job, really, and one that shouldn’t have to exist. Some parts are plainly wonderful, like meeting so many queer people from all walks of life. But it’s also heartrending and difficult, and burnout is always looming. My horrible banal work is often literally a matter of life and death for the client, and I’m fighting a broken system for a chance at giving them the happiness and safety is owed to them by international law and, really, by any decent human standard, should never have been in question.

The thing is—and this is reason to hope—queer people really do exist everywhere, no matter how much repression and violence we face. In a tiny village in Colombia, there's a kid who’s all spit and vinegar, dresses like a boy and plays football and fights anyone who says that they can’t, who grows up wiry and gets black eyes because men still can’t handle getting their asses handed to them on the soccer field by a dyke. This client texts me at my work number sometimes to ask if I’ve eaten that day, because they wanted to check in on me. He asked me to call him by a boy’s name, recently. I don’t know that he’s told anyone else. I open every message I send him with "Hola, James."

Then there’s the sweet, babyfaced college freshman who got death threats when he was outed to his classmates back home, and whose parents kicked him out when he refused to marry a girl to protect the family's reputation, leaving him alone in a foreign country. He was couch surfing and just trying not to miss class so he could keep his student status and he was so conscientious I wanted to cry— he’s eighteen, guys. Eighteen. I’ll get him his papers or so help me fucking God I will kill for him. You know? You know. After that meeting I had to sit at my desk with my notebook and fill an entire blank page with the phrase “he’s just a kid,” over and over again, until I felt like I could breathe.

On a Friday morning recently I get up and open my laptop to interpret on a call with a soft-spoken older trans woman who's sat in the bleak phone room of the ICE detention facility because her immigration judge didn’t believe that she was really transgender. “An odor of mendacity pervades everything the respondent says,” the judge wrote in her ruling, where she determined the client wasn't "credible." To this day I’m still floored that she straight up ripped off Tennessee Williams—new frontiers in bigotry, truly. She didn’t even cite. In our meeting now, the client quietly tells us how hard it was when she came out but how happy she was the first time she wore makeup, and she'd rather stay in detention here for indeterminate years as proceedings spiral on than go back to Guatemala, where they'll kill her—boys, if I ever get within spitting distance of this fuckass judge, it is on SIGHT. Absolutely fucking ON SIGHT. For legal purposes, that was a JOKE.

So I finish the call and get up to get a snack. It’s only ten am but feel tired already because I’m angry, which is not unusual but also not something I want to hold onto, because it doesn't help anything. So I make some toast and look at my phone— two texts, which I ignore, a spam email, and, wouldn't you know it, a YouTube notification from Dan and Phil games! Jarring! That’s just sort of how life is though, isn’t it? Deathly serious and lighthearted in the same breath.

But regardless, seeing the notification makes me feel warm, so I have my toast and watch a little video of you two playing Roblox or dress up or whatever it is you do on that channel these days. I have a good giggle and I finish my toast and go back to my desk. It’s a crucial part of my diet really— the giggles, not the toast. I’m not angry anymore. I’ll be angry again, but for now my cortisol levels are manageable and I can put my head back into emails or whatever the fuck. Do you ever think about how plants make food for free out of sunlight but we sit around writing emails all day? And that’s if we’re lucky. Capitalism is hell.

Anyway, there is a point I am trying to make, and it’s not really about the banal horrors of neoliberal nation-state or capitalism or even homophobia. It’s to say thank you for coming back to make silly videos together, because I love them, and you never fail to make me happy. And yeah, maybe something about the story of that scared eighteen-year-old kid at the front of my mind makes it particularly sweet to watch you two goofing off and being openly queer. It reminds me why I’m doing what I’m doing, and it gives me the strength to send another fucking email because sometimes doing “important work that I value and believe in deeply” means having to send another fucking email. And sometimes I’ll rewatch your older videos, and then come back to the more recent ones, and my heart bruises, because you remind me what I’m fighting for and why. It’s nothing grandiose, it’s just— for queer people to get to have the ability to grow into themselves and be outrageous and silly and make mistakes and to love and be loved for who they are. To have the safety and support and security that no one should ever go without. That’s all.

So I am being dead serious when I say thank you for making top-tier light entertainment, and for coming back to a job that wasn’t always kind to you, and that it does actually matter. All this talk about terrible influences and legacies has made me think that sometimes you doubt whether you do good in the world, so let me be clear: you really, really do. I kind of get the sense that in order to accept sincerity Dan needs to be beat over the head with it, so if that’s the case, consider yourself coerced, you dickhead. You matter to me, and especially in times like these, I think I speak for all of us when I say that the joy you share is a precious and treasured gift. So please accept my gratitude in return.

All my love,

Jules

(I removed or changed all identifying information in this letter to protect privacy, but the stories are real).

[ellsellmesoull]

Is there an audiobook version of Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint?

[kneipe]

leipzig 2023

[icancirieclearlynowthegameison]

I have never done an ORG or online game in my life but watching bar traitors each week has made me wanna try. Anyone have any info or potential starting points?

[aeliusgalenus]

morning bitches