laz, laza, lazae

End OTW Racism We, as fans of color and our allies, find the current state of fandom and current actions (and lack thereof) unacceptable. Fandom is our space, all of ours. We, as a fandom, have a right to a racism-free space and have a duty to our fellow fans to create that space. Unlike so much of the world, this is a space we can control and make better. It is a space we must make better. Read More → Star Wars, MCU, Mag7, The Old Guard, roughly a thousand other fandoms, social justice. Sometimes NSFW, not spoiler-free. Links: AO3 // Visual inspo blog \\ Dreamwidth // Nuclear Waste Warnings \\ Mag7 Lockscreens // Mastodon Blog links: My scraps & tumblr fic // My graphics & photography \\ Selfies // Fandom racism \\ Purity culture // Joe/Nicky discourse collection \\ Cheer up tag // Bisexual catnip

[shanepervert]

[arthurfoxy]

Prev how dare you leave this in the tags

[partiallypearl]

Heated Rivalry Season 1 Episode 2 - "Olympians"

[alex51324]

Since it's considered by many to be wrong to speak ill of the dead, I'll take this opportunity to say that Mitch McConnell is a craven, lick-spittling sack of shit, and with his mind-bogglingly corrupt refusal to hold confirmation hearings for President Obama's Supreme Court nominee in 2016, single-handedly provided one of the necessary conditions for our country's current turn toward fascism.

[inawordcold]

i like this video (and this youtube channel) a lot because of how tight the focus is on how to think about the game as a player. it really gives great insight if you're trying to put yourself in the head of imagined hockey players ilya rozanov and shane hollander. (it also links up a lot with how offensive playing works in many other sports, which is just neat.) this is how one can imagine ilya and shane's on-ice chemistry working both when they're opponents and when they're teammates. also, what an intimate relationship he's describing between offensive player and defensive player. metaphysical true love.

some parts that are fun to think of in a hollanov context:

"he's not married to one outcome here"

"the most advantageous ice is the ice with the least defenders, not the ice you decided to go to beforehand"

"it's an active communication"

"cascading set of an advantages"

"scouts are not looking for players who win one-on-ones in the same way every time"

"create a reactive response you can use"

"players can create an advantage not just recognize one"

"rebellious players...ignoring coach's negative restrictive advice"

the actual skills are not that hard, it's deciding how to use them

"visualize scenarios over and over"

"rewires your instinct so one-on-ones stop feeling chaotic"

"body queue recognition ability"

"speed at its core is a simple mind mechanic"

"react to their [the defender's] reaction" "let the defender tell you what to do"

[snowsmoked]

I know a lot of Canadian hockey boys and if there is one (1) thing I know about Canadian hockey boys is that they have an indoor basement rink. Realistically, it was probably at his parents' main house (which I believe they sold?), but let's consider it's at their cottage.

Yuna and David are doing something (cooking dinner, out to the store, etc.) and Shane is giving Ilya the tour. An actual tour this time because they are at his parent's house.

Once Ilya sees the little practice rink, he lights up. The walls are splashed with Shane's youth trophies - snowplow sam badges in a case, tiny little baby skates, power-skating ribbons, pictures from his first tournaments, team jerseys from U8-16, his first hockey stick hanging on the wall, his first game winning puck on a shelf, his first tiny jersey. Ilya takes his time to comment on everything.

Then Ilya grabs a stick from the wall (one of the practice ones) and a puck from the bucket that hasn't been touched in a decade. Shane, never one to back down from a challenge, especially on home turf, grabs his own practice stick. There are no skates that fit either of them, so they just step on the synthetic ice with socks on.

And that's how Yuna and David find them, checking each other into the flimsy boards that are not meant for fully grown hockey players, firing shots into the little nets with enough force to knock them over, cursing at each other like there's a ref around to do something about it, etc.

Yuna can't believe she ever thought Shane would let Ilya win anything.

[jeffgoldblumsmulletinthe90s]

I know that I’m well known in every fandom I’ve ever been in for being an argumentative and unpleasant person BUT

If you’re using LLMs to write or edit your fanfic or, honestly, to do any hobby, I’m here to genuinely tell you that it can and will be more fun to do it yourself.

Yes, it’s hard. Yes, it’s slow. Yes, you want it to be perfect. And it’s so scary to share things because there are so many people more argumentative and unpleasant than me in this world. Bro, I know!!!

But your words will move someone. They’ll mean something to someone, even if it’s YOU!! And if you don’t do the hard scary thing of writing and editing the words yourself then you’ll never know if it was really you who did that. Your ideas deserve your voice and will always be better, more beautiful and meaningful and weird, from you.

[autoneurotic]

wikipedia fanart

[lovedthestars-toofondly]

@elodieunderglass

[elodieunderglass]

This feels so important, thank you

[chilewithcarnage]

we're not ever gonna make this website a safe space for black people or have a substantial black user base anymore unless y'all (non blacks obv) come to grips with the fact that y'all hold internal biases whether some of y'all be blatantly racist and hide behind your disabilities/mental illnesses queerness/transness or it's something as simple as if you see a black face on your dash you immediately swipe up

[18thcenturythirsttrap]

In advance of the DR Congo - England match later, here's a post about someone you will have seen in the stands: Michel Kuka Mboladinga, or 'Lumumba Vea'.

Michel Kuka Mboladinga, nicknamed 'Lumumba Vea', stands silent and motionless through DR Congo football matches in tribute to Patrice Lumumba (1925 - 1961), revolutionary, independence leader and first Prime Minister of the First Congolese Republic (now Democratic Republic of the Congo), who was crucial in transforming DR Congo from a Belgian colony into an independent state. Lumumba believed strongly in both national and pan-African unity, in full decolonisation and in freeing his country's resources, politics and economy from foreign ownership, interference and domination. He was kidnapped, tortured and murdered only seven months after election by Katangan seperatists and Belgian mercenaries, with US, UK and UN involvement. His body was dissolved in acid, and it took until 2022 - and a court ruling - for all that remained of Patrice Lumumba, a single tooth, to be returned to his family.

Stay standing, sir.

[leedongwook]

[chiclet-go-boom]

…this particular clip is the moment where i first started wondering what the hell was going on. for the record, i went into this movie blind, i had no idea what it was about, just that it was popular and i wanted to watch something that had good reviews for once. 

why is this guy sitting in a helicopter, dressed in tac gear with ammo bandoliers all over him… but a big ass straight sword on his hip, bent over his gun and holding it like one of those renaissance paintings? 

the proverbial hair on the back of my neck started prickling, let me tell you, because it was incongruous. it was weird. why is this guy sporting a fucking longsword going into a firefight? why does he look like one of those paintings with a knight on his knees, praying, which was what it seemed like to me because i was just looking at a old school sword and his hands are holding his gun like his hands are on crossguards instead of a gun barrel and my brain put that together in a confusion spasm.

honestly, best use of foreshadowing in any movie i’ve seen all year. maybe all decade because my subconscious knew something was up before i did. 

[stream]

Dazed and Confused (1993) dir. Richard Linklater

[delsicle]

I’m not sure if this will be helpful to anyone, but you literally do not have to be a good writer to write and post fan fiction. Yes you will naturally get better at writing and finding your voice the more you do it but you do not have to be or become a professional level writer to enjoy writing and sharing fics. It’s common to hear people praise fic writers by saying their work is better than published books, and while I think this comes from a good place, that’s not the norm or expectation. There is also a sentiment that fic writing is “good practice” for becoming a better writer or doing something else later, but if fic is the only creative writing you ever do that is literally okay. Your technical skill does not mean you cannot have fun and build community with your writing, or that other people cannot love and find meaning in your work.

[ilyapasta]

If you want to engage with fandom as a community but are overwhelmed by the writing of it all, my advice is to start small. Write a one paragraph ficlet/drabble and post it to tumblr. Describe a setting, or a bit of character inner monologue, or write a snapshot of a bigger scene in your head. This might seem like it's just "posting headcanons to tumblr" but if you take the time to look at your sentence structure, edit your word choices, fix typos, and make adjustments to make the writing more compelling or the characters more vivid, that is literally creative writing. Next time, make it two paragraphs. Maybe add a few lines of dialogue. Take a scene from canon and extend it for 500 words. Try to engage with or expand upon an emotion that you noticed in canon. I bet someone else is compelled by this idea too. You don't have to write a 100k fic to engage with other people in fandom. Short form is a valid form of writing practice and will build your muscle. Even if one person likes it or replies to it with their own thoughts, you've reached someone.

[witchy-worm]

I’m still thinking about Shane Hollander’s backwards hat (and Hudson William’s peloton ad)

[mothecho]

They should invent a way to sit hunched over doing crafts that is Good for your body

[2ndgengeek]

Welcome to the long line of fiber workers/crafters who have wished this.

The Three Aunts

Norwegian Folk Tale

Once on a time there was a poor man who lived in a hut far away in the wood, and got his living by shooting. He had an only daughter who was very pretty, and as she had lost her mother when she was a child, and was now half grown up, she said she would go into the world and earn her bread.

"Well, lassie!" said the father, "true enough you have learnt nothing here but how to pluck birds and roast them, but still you may as well try to earn your bread."

So the girl went off to seek a place, and when she had gone a little while, she came to a palace. There she stayd and got a place, and the queen liked her so well, that all the other maids got envious of her. So they made up their minds to tell the queen how the lassie said she was good to spin a pound of flax in four and twenty hours, for you must know the queen was a great housewife, and thought much of good work.

"Have you said this? then you shall do it," said the queen; "but you may have a little longer time if you choose."

Now, the poor lassie dared not say she had never spun in all her life, but she only begged for a room to herself. That she got, and the wheel and the flax were brought up to her. There she sat sad and weeping, and knew not how to help herself. She pulled the wheel this way and that, and twisted and turned it about, but she made a poor hand of it, for she had never even seen a spinning-wheel in her life.

But all at once, as she sat there, in came an old woman to her. "What ails you, child?" she said.

"Ah!" said the lassie, with a deep sigh, "it's no good to tell you, for you'll never be able to help me."

"Who knows?" said the old wife. "Maybe I know how to help you after all."

"Well," thought the lassie to herself, "I may as well tell her."

And so she told her how her fellow-servants had given out that she was good to spin a pound of flax in four and twenty hours. "And here am I, wretch that I am, shut up to spin all that heap in a day and a night, when I have never even seen a spinning-wheel in all my born days."

"Well, never mind, child," said the old woman, "if you'll call me Aunt on the happiest day of your life, I'll spin this flax for you, and so you may just go away and lie down to sleep."

Yes, the lassie was willing enough, and off she went and lay down to sleep.

Next morning when she awoke, there lay all the flax spun on the table, and that so clean and fine, no one had ever seen such even and pretty yarn. The queen was very glad to get such nice yarn, and she set greater store by the lassie than ever. But the rest were still more envious, and agreed to tell the queen how the lassie had said she was good to weave the yarn she had spun in four and twenty hours.

So the queen said again, as she had said it she must do it; but if she couldn't quite finish it in four and twenty hours, she wouldn't be too hard upon her, she might have a little more time. This time, too, the lassie dared not say No, but begged for a room to herself, and there she would try.

There she sat again, sobbing and crying, and not knowing which way to turn, when another old woman came in and asked, "What ails you, child?"

At first the lassie wouldn't say, but at last she told her the whole story of her grief.

"Well, well!" said the old wife, "never mind. If you'll call me Aunt on the happiest day of your life, I'll weave this yarn for you, and you may just be off, and lie down to sleep."

Yes, the lassie was willing enough; so she went away and lay down to sleep. When she awoke, there lay the piece of linen on the table, woven so neat and close, no woof could be better. So the lassie took the piece and ran down to the queen, who was very glad to get such beautiful linen, and set greater store than ever by the lassie.

But as for the others, they grew still more bitter against her, and thought of nothing but how to find out something to tell about her. At last they told the queen the lassie had said she was good to make up the piece of linen into shirts in four and twenty hours.

Well, all happened as before; the lassie dared not say she couldn't sew; so she was shut up again in a room by herself, and there she sat in tears and grief. But then another old wife came, who said she would sew the shirts for her if she would call her Aunt on the happiest day of her life. The lassie was only too glad to do this, and then she did as the old wife told her, and went and lay down to sleep. Next morning when she woke she found the piece of linen made up into shirts, which lay on the table -- and such beautiful work no one had ever set eyes on; and more than that, the shirts were all marked and ready for wear.

So, when the queen saw the work, she was so glad at the way in which it was sewn, that she clapped her hands, and said, "Such sewing I never had, nor even saw in all my born days."

And after that she was as fond of the lassie as of her own children; and she said to her, "Now, if you like to have the prince for your husband, you shall have him; for you will never need to hire work women. You can sew, and spin, and weave all yourself."

So as the lassie was pretty, and the prince was glad to have her, the wedding soon came on. But just as the prince was going to sit down with the bride to the bridal feast, in came an ugly old hag, with a long nose --I'm sure it was three ells long.

So up got the bride and made a curtsey, and said, "Good-day, Auntie."

"That auntie to my bride," said the prince.

"Yes, she was!"

"Well, then, she'd better sit down with us to the feast," said the prince; but, to tell you the truth, both he and the rest thought she was a loathsome woman to have next you.

But just then in came another ugly old hag. She had a back so humped and broad, she had hard work to get through the door.

Up jumped the bride in a trice, and greeted her with "Good-day, Auntie!"

And the prince asked again if that were his bride's aunt. They both said Yes; so the prince said, if that were so, she too had better sit down with them to the feast.

But they had scarce taken their seats before another ugly old hag came in, with eyes as large as saucers, and so red and bleared, 'twas gruesome to look at her.

But up jumped the bride again, with her "Good-day, Auntie," and her, too, the prince asked to sit down; but I can't say he was very glad, for he thought to himself, "Heaven shield me from such aunties as my bride has!"

So when he had sat a while, he could not keep his thoughts to himself any longer, but asked, "But how, in all the world, can my bride, who is such a lovely lassie, have such loathsome, misshapen aunts?"

"I'll soon tell you how it is," said the first. "I was just as good-looking when I was her age; but the reason why I have got this long nose is, because I was always kept sitting, and poking, and nodding over my spinning, and so my nose got stretched and stretched, until it got as long as you now see it."

"And I," said the second," ever since I was young, I have sat and scuttled backwards and forwards over my loom, and that's how my back has got so broad and humped, as you now see it."

"And I," said the third," ever since I was little, I have sat, and stared, and sewn, and sewn and stared, night and day; and that's why my eyes have got so ugly and red, and now there's no help for them."

"So! so!" said the prince, "'twas lucky I came to know this; for if folk can get so ugly and loathsome by all this, then my bride shall neither spin, nor weave, nor sew all her life long."

Source (books.google.com): Peter Christen Asbjørnsen and Jørgen Moe, Popular Tales from the Norse, translated by George Webbe Dasent (Edinburgh: Edmonston and Douglas, 1859), pp. 205-211.

Source (Internet Archive): Peter Christen Asbjørnsen and Jørgen Moe, Popular Tales from the Norse, translated by George Webbe Dasent (Edinburgh: Edmonston and Douglas, 1859), pp. 205-211.

Dasent's source:

Books.google.com: Peter Christen Asbjørnsen and Jørgen Moe, "De tre Mostre," Norske Folkeeventyr (Christiania [Oslo]: Forlagt af Johan Dahl, 1843), no. 13, pp. 69-74.

Internet Archive: Peter Christen Asbjørnsen and Jørgen Moe, "De tre Mostre," Norske Folkeeventyr (Christiania [Oslo]: Forlagt af Johan Dahl, 1850), no. 13, pp. 61-66.

Collected by Jørgen Moe in Ringerike.

https://sites.pitt.edu/~dash/type0501.html

[hachinana87]

🍋

[vulpes-aestatis]

Baby sphinx trying to be like mama and waylaying travelers, but all its riddles are completely non-sensical like the ones a 1st grader would tell

[thecactifindahome]

[maluskrow]