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Please have a moment of silence for the people who were killed instead of freed when news of emancipation finally reached the furthest corners of the american south.
have another moment for the ledgers, catalogs, and records that were burned and the homes that were destroyed to hide the presence of very much alive and still enslaved people on dozens of plantations and homesteads across the south for decades after emancipation.
and have a third moment for those who were hunted and killed while fleeing the south to find safety across the border, overseas, in the north and to the west.
black people. light a candle, write a note to those who have passed telling them what you have achieved in spite of the racist and intolerant conditions of this world, feel the warmth of the flame under your hand, say a prayer of rememberance if you are religious, place the note under the candle, and then blow it out.
if you have children, sit them down and tell them anything you know about the life of oldest black person you've ever met. it doesn't have to be your own family. tell them what you know about what life was like for us in the days, years, decades after emancipation. if you don't know much, look it up and learn about it together.
This is Juneteenth.
white people CAN interact with this post. share it, spread it.
literally what would we do without gif makers thank you gif makers THANK YOU GIFMAKERS i love nothing more than to watch a tiny moment of a scene loop over and over and over the world is so beautiful
#i appreciate how genuine and non-judgemental this comic feels
#like left one is not upset at right one for caring while being powerless
#and right one seems genuinely distraught and not performative
I'm glad the facial expressions are coming across accurately!
It can feel so absurd to say gosh I hope the torment maze removes some fire and rusty nails soon, but alas, sometimes that's all one can do.
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making friends via fandom is inherently hilarious because in many ways it's like a regular friendship and sometimes you'll share stuff that's going on in your lives and offer support and talk about food or pets or random cultural stuff because you live on opposite sides of the damn planet, but also some of your interactions are like "hello beloved friend whom I cherish deeply, I have brought you a deceptively platonic gift of lovingly crafted star wars porn"
Laura Aguilar is a Los Angeles-based photographer whose work mines the intersection between feminism, body image, queer politics, and latinx identity. Her earliest works depicted latina lesbians in intimate portraits, calling to mind the frankness of Catherine Opie, while her best known series features self-portraits of Aguilar posed nude in the California desert landscape. These photographs are instantly striking, finding in the artist’s body formal elements that echo the landscape itself, as in its doubling here with the giant rock that eludes the frame. Aguilar also forces our gaze onto a body that does not conform to stereotypical images of latinx or feminine identity—a body type that is not so much othered as invisible, despite its ubiquity. The artist originally began to produce these photos as a means of grappling with her own issues with weight and self-acceptance, but quickly came to see them as something more. They offer a profound, ambivalent vision of woman and nature. We see Aguilar dissolve into the landscape in search of anonymity, at the same time that she reclaims the pride and beauty in her body far removed from the society that rejects it.
au where rhaegel and the rhaegelings go to ashford too. maekar is a lot more chill and in a better mood because rhaegel is the cooling tank to his nuclear reactor. tanselle is like who are the beautiful falconer lady and man in a duvet cover who have seen the puppet show five times in one day, wdym that’s the third prince who is like "do the fire breathing again! can i try walking on the stilts?" and his wife who has ideas how to make the dragon fly?? and they’re talking about sponsoring?? 8000 gold dragons???? that exists??? aelor and aelora see egg doing his squire thing but they’re the nice cousins so they don’t rat him out. instead they now want to squire too and of course they will only do it together. they pick beesbury for his cool vibes, jousting skills, bee magic and funny mustache. beesbury accepts his fate. lyonel is lowkey jealous like wdym you got mysterious twin squires and i don’t??? someone find him some spooky twins asap. dunk probably still saves someone from aerion and there’s a trial but at least tanselle is safe because rhaegel is sitting in the front row and aerion can’t do shit because it would upset his uncle, and that’s the one thing that will make grandpa go ballistic. beesbury is fine at the trial because the kingsguard have very strict orders directly from a prince who has never ordered them before that beesbury has to walk off that field alive. aelor and aelora real winners of ashford because they get to go home with a big jar of bees each.
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Author's note: Hi Nonny! I hope you enjoy these 250 words featuring a smidge of filth. Thanks for kind words and your prompt 😁🧡🧡
You wake to a beam of sunlight across your face, streaming in through a slit in the heavy velvet curtains of the inn. And the heat and weight of a naked man wrapped around you.
Attempting to slip from the bed to make yourself decent again, your efforts are stymied by the grip around you tightening; it appears he has roused too.
“Where are you going?” Benedict’s voice is rough with sleep but laced with a teasing tenderness.
“To put on my nightgown,” you murmur.
“Oh no no no,” he tuts playfully, pulling you under him and settling around you. “This is our honeymoon. I do not want you clothed at all.”
“Benedict….” Your protest is feeble at best.
“Naked,” he declares economically but with a sense of finality.
“For two whole weeks?!”
He tilts to meet your eyes, his shining with mischief. “I might ask Mr Crabtree to burn your entire wardrobe when we get home too,” he jests.
There is a rustle of the sheets as he slides lower; for a moment all you can see is a shock of chestnut hair. Then you cry out as his lips wrap decisively around your nipple, sucking hard, the slight trace of stubble around his upper lip just the perfect scratch, a beeline to your throbbing clit.
“If you are dressed, how on earth am I to do this to you all day, every day?!” he posits duskily, swapping to the other breast.
Author's note: Hi Nonny. Well, this turned out to be the first smutty(ish) drabble for Benedict in this challenge. I doubt it will be the last lol. Thanks for your prompt 😁🧡🧡
You giggle, the leather spine tacky against your diaphragm, the weight jostling upon you.
“I must say, you are not the most reliable of book rests,” Benedict remarks drily with a crooked grin, eyes sparkling in the lantern light.
You are lying under him, both utterly naked, as he reads to you from an old tome plucked from his library - a most likely priceless early folio of Shakespeare. And most likely being flecked with juice from the ripe strawberries you feed each other.
He shifts between your legs, his stirring cock a distracting press against your inner knee as he turns the page. The play could not be more apt - A Midsummer Night's Dream - for you are out under the starry skies at his rural idyll, upon the lush lawn, reading and fucking to your heart's content.
“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind…” You join in the next line.
He pauses, looking up at you from your belly with renewed passion.
“Why did you not say you know it so well?” An admiring raised brow accompanies his query.
“I like the way you read it,” you deflect modestly. Which is not exactly a lie; his voice is sonorous, carried on the warm evening breeze.
“Well then, if you know it so well, I believe there may well be a better use of our time…” he contends.
He haphazardly tosses the book aside and climbs over you on all fours, claiming your mouth in a breathtaking kiss.
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