(I don't remember if I posted her team on another post but I'm putting it here in case)
so I had this idea I think I'm going with the idea that she actually ran away from her home in johto in search of her sister who joined team plasma - who is another oc I plan on designing soon!
A post only for the good people who love the people of Gaza and the poor of Gaza
As you know, my campaign is stopped, and I haven’t received any donation for more than a week, and I can’t find food, drink or shelter, and I feel suffocated from my life. Also, there is not a single person who donated to me to feed my family. Why did you stop helping me? Am I a bad person? I’m just a poor person? I want food 😭💔
I’m really hungry, I’m hungry, please donate to me as soon as possible, please, I can’t wait😭😭
My campaign is based on $773. I want to reach $1500 as soon as possible 😭😭😭💔💔😭
I am Qusai, a university student from Gaza studying Nursing,and my brother Mohammed is a Tawjihi (high school senior) student.We have lived
I haven’t received a donation for more than a week, be a reason to save my life and feed me and my family members🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼😭😭😭
Hi its meeeee and guess what I actually finished this one WITHIN a 6 month period THATS AMAZING CLAP / j
Anyway so yes Fir, the original character I had written as one of the main characters for this fic is now Jib! Why? Because if I have prehistoric xim and prehistoric tak then by my left and right ass cheek I will have dib to and no i dont care that dib is not irken its my au and I do what I want 🗣
But yes I wanted to give their designs a better reference than the original one I had which was more or less like a concept sketch
death, gore and violence described in this chapter
Peace never seemed to last long for him. Most of his life could be described as brief windows of happiness, only to be followed by yet another fuckin' problem. Whatever. That's how life went right? Yeah, as long as you weren't alone it was fine. Wait, was he alone? Picking away at his own memories like an ant to a crumb. No, he wasn't alone. Who could it be? His mother? No, she was too busy looking down the end of the vodka bottle to give a damn about anyone outside of her own existence. Dad? Hell no…. He hardly knew him, no it was someone else. Who? The question itched at his mind like scab begging to be ripped at. Who had he forgotten?
Suddenly he was jerked back to reality, cold water twisted itself around him like a python. Rushing into his mouth and nose. He could feel the sting of it in his bones, his lungs flooded. Any air within them was pushed out, into bubbles that floated to the world above him. Desperately he screamed out for help, but his voice didn’t make a sound. No one could hear him. Shock trembled through his limbs, slack and weak. Nothing was clear anymore, not even the moonlight. Please help me.. Who was it that he expected to come? Legs now stiffened, it was done. He could fight no more. His flailing arms stopped, no more strength in them. Nothing left lay behind his panicked eyes, still wide with grief. Sinking, ever so farther into the lake.
He didn't expect he would ever open his eyes again. But when he did, the watery grave that imprisoned him was gone. Where he was now…. Where exactly was he now? Sitting somewhere empty, a room. The walls and floor were white, clean and lifeless. It was so cold, but he didn’t shiver. Perhaps he was already cold to begin with. Despite being freed, he still felt empty. Devoid of any energy or willpower. Arms dangled down, resting on his legs. Like a doll with no puppeteer. Jaw slacked open wide, though he breathed no air. His eyes rested on the floor below him, blankly. If not for the figure that stood before him, he might have stayed that way until the end of time. A dog, with black fur. No, that wasn’t fur. It was just skin, which caused an uneasiness to stir in his stomach. Almost like when you look at something that by all means looks real, but something about it is still off. Whatever it was troubled you, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it. Some vague yet menacing detail that escaped you gave it all away. Nothing but a mimic, a trick of the eyes.
This dog, no, this thing. Its shape was quite similar to that of a dog, true. But it had no details on its face. No snout, just a pointed muzzle. Sharp ears with no inside. Despite the lack of pupils, he could still feel its threatening gaze fixed on him. Though he could not feel his heart beat, dread draped over him and crawled along his skin. Fingers twitched with anticipation, every cell in his body crying out for him to flee. Afraid, like that of a mouse spotted by a hawk.
“What brought you here?”
While this creature's mouth didn’t move, he knew it was the one that spoke. As he contemplated his answer, his urge to escape died away. The real question was who had brought him here? Had he really found his way to this strange place alone? Maybe this place wasn’t even real. Let's see, there was the lake… but what about before? He hadn't the faintest idea. Within his chest, a spark of aggression flashed. Fight. Yes, he fought back against that sorry excuse of a human being. His hand gently hovered over his jawline, it ached where he had been punched.
“I think somebody murdered me.” Finally, the words rolled out of his mouth. Everything was still fuzzy, but he remembered now. This person, who he couldn't recall. Yes, they were responsible! Just the thought of it spurred a fury in his chest.
“Was it fair?”
Ripping his life away, what justified this asshole to do so? That awful feeling of being smothered below the reservoir, all caused by them. They did this, they were to blame. “No…” His voice strained with resentment. The creature that stood before him had drawn closer, lowering its head. Studying him. “What are you going to do about it?” This question felt more like a reminder of his helplessness, rather than genuine curiosity. Like this thing was mocking him. At a loss, he scoffed, "Nothing, I lost. I'm useless now."
“What if you could?”
The mimic now had his full undivided attention. “I would make them hurt like I did.” Maybe even worse... He was numb to the feeling of his lip curling, teeth clenched and fists tightened into a ball. Just the thought of it burned his pride. Ate away at him, greedily gnawing at what little there was. “Would it bring you peace?” Fuck peace, he didn't want peace. There was no morality in murder. No, he wanted revenge. He was stolen from, what was his was torn away without mercy and it would forever be gone. There was no 'right' here. There was just some asshole who took everything from him, and got away with it.
"I don't want to die."
This is what he wanted. Rid the world of those who were responsible, and take back what was his. He wanted it back.
An eerie growl of satisfaction echoed off the walls, as the mimic finally revealed its fangs. And a twisted smile split across its face. "So it is a deal then? We seek out this vile wretch, and in exchange you give me their flesh and soul in exchange for your new life?" Gratification flourished through his veins, a passion that brought feeling to their empty soul. A reason to continue. It felt euphoric, forcing a chuckle from his lips. What a wonderful dream! The power to take back what was his. "Who the hell wouldn't say yes to an offer like that?"
As he uttered those last words, everything went dark. Once again, he was at rest. No fear, no delight, and no pain… He finally was able to disappear. But this didn't last long. Nothing nice for him ever does. Gradually those earthly sensations made their way back to him. He felt his throat close once more, the air squeezed from his insides. And that horrid panic ignited in his chest once more. The fight for survival swarmed his thoughts and composed his movements. Through blurred vision he started to make out a light above. Clawing for the surface, he screamed and flailed desperately trying to race towards it. Ringing had begun to infect his ears, and stifled the noises around him even as he broke free to the world above. Freezing night air hit his skin, and various curses spewed from his mouth in shock. Struggling just to keep his breath, he kept his head afloat the best he could. Lake water still lapped at his brow as he blindly swam forward. This god awful ringing in his ears refused to let up.
Just keep fighting, eventually he had to reach land. And soon enough; his feet though numb from their endeavors, scraped against rock and sand. Finally! Using the last of his strength, he crawled through the dirt. Enervated, it was all that he could do to lean forward as water rose in his throat. Burning as all that suppressed his insides came gushing out forcefully. Finished, he flopped over onto the ground, and tried to catch his breath. Time passed, he wasn't sure how long. But the ringing had finally stopped, and was replaced by the gentle hum or the crickets. He lay there by the lakebed, staring up at the sky above. What happened?
Nothing seemed real to him. Not the chill that clung to his hands and knees, nor the stars as they glimmered like tiny pieces of glass scattered across the night sky. That dream from before, there was a dog. They talked, talked about such bittersweet ideas like vengeance and life. Was that a near death experience? His brain just giving him the satisfaction he craved before it all came to a stop? But then… What woke him? At the bottom of the lake, by all means he should be dead. So why wasn't he? It just seemed so absurd he simply couldn't believe it. Nearby, twigs cracked from the weight of a foot. Jolting from his spot, he twisted his neck upward to see the silhouette of a stranger looking at him from some railing above on the hilltop behind. The atmosphere was unnervingly quiet as they stared, trying to make out the face of the other. From their figure, he guessed it was a man. Broad shouldered. But he could only see so well from down here. Tree branches rustled, leafs breaking away with the breeze. Raining across the grimy wet mud he gripped at, slowly moving himself further on land. “Hey.” Words came weakly, and steady came the strength to hoist himself to his knees.
“You… There…”
Then shakily to his legs, using a nearby log for support. The world seemed to sway and he wobbled forward like a drunk to the steep incline before him. “Call. Call someone. Please. I think I.. I might need a…” Their visitor abruptly turned around, gazing at something behind them as if startled. “A… Hey. Can you hear…” Between coughs, and groans of pain he tried to regain the man’s attention. But he could see the interloper backing away from the railing. “Listen to me… What are-” One wrong step sent him falling face first into the soil. Spitting grains of earth from his tongue, agitated and exhausted he wiped the muck from his eyes. “God damnit… Just give me a chance to…” Trailing off, he heard the fleeing of footsteps on concrete pavement. Haphazardly reclaiming his footing, he was just in time to see the interloper taking their leave. No! No, no wait! Waving his hand about as one last resort to be seen, he watched as the figure vanished. Are you fucking serious? Defeated, he sank back down to his knees. What now? Perhaps it was better to wait here and rest, get the stability to climb up. Just as he leaned back, white lights shined up above. And with it, muffled voices. A group of folks from the sounds of it. Could it be, had that guy returned with help? Relief washed over him as a flashlight illuminated the environment below. Thank god! Scrambling down, he could just barely see them heaving themselves over the railing and through the bushes towards him. Holding his hand to shield the light from his clouded vision, once more he yanked himself from the ground. The voices drew closer now, garbled and alarmed. Thank god… He could almost cry. As the blinding light was waved away, he unshielded his eyes only to be greeted by a fist. Within seconds, he was back down on the ground. The taste of mud was replaced with blood, his head bounced as he fell backwards. Stunned he laid there, dumbfounded. What just happened? The collar of his soaked and filthy tank was lurched back up, facing a rather ugly shit of a human being. Nose and teeth crooked, a ting of yellow stained them as the man shouted insults that went unheard. His face peach and sunburnt, scarring decorated his rough leathery skin. The ringing from before had come back, and drowned out the group of thugs that surrounded him. A revolting stench came from his attacker’s breath, nauseating him. Tossed to the side, he collided with a rotted log and before he knew it a flurry of stomps came from every direction.
What did he do to deserve this? Trying to block his face as they aimed for his limbs and torso, one individual swiftly landing a blow to his head and gut. One right after the other, they pelted him with their boots. And then it all came to a halt. Was he dead? No, all over his body throbbed in agony. But he was still alive. But how? Trembling, through his garbled hearing came petrified howls and wails. People dashing about in the shrubbery. Peeking under his elbow, he saw as the men scurried about. Running from something vicious. Beastly snarls followed the cries of distress. Lowering his arms, he sat upright and watched as the men threw themselves into the lake to escape. But were suddenly dragged under by some unseen force. And crimson levitated to the surface where they had been seconds ago. It was an uncanny sight, seeing them one by one disappear under the lake’s abyss. He watched as the last one frantically splashed about and hollered for his mother before he too was silenced. A path of gore stained the water, still and calm. For a few minutes, everything stood frozen in place. As if the forest itself was in awe of what had occurred.
Jerked backward, he was lifted nose to nose with yet another brute. Sweat dripped from the man’s forehead, his teeth clenched and his eyes wide with fear. “You think you're funny? Huh? We tried to make it real easy for your scrawny ass, and you're just digging your grave deeper boy! What the fuck is that? Speak up!” The odor of cigarette smoke and gasoline was overwhelming. He wasn’t even sure how to respond, much less had the energy to. What thing? What was he raging on about? Pupils darting about, the man suddenly wrapped his cumbersome arm around his victims throat and started to lug him away. Gripping at the forearm that trapped him in a headlock, the weakened man feebly tried to break loose. But to no avail. This roughneck huffed as he feverishly ducked them both behind a nearby patch of underwood. “You messed with the wrong family, you know that? The Blackwood family ain’t no yobbo fuckwits, you hear me? Even if I die here, your dead meat!” Hissing into his ear as the hefty man tightened his stranglehold. “You hear me boy, dead-” Snap. The crack of bones and the sickly guishing of muscle being torn. Iron polluted the aroma around them, and warm liquid drenched his back as the grip around his neck loosened. Gasping, he freed himself from his foe’s headlock. Dead weight started to compress upon him, with the last of his strength he wiggled himself out from underneath the heavy body. Strings of blood slithered from his back as he slid out, digging his fingers deep into the mud to tug himself forward. Halfway out, he dared not to look behind him.
Unfortunately, curiosity got the better of him. Biting his lip, he glanced over his shoulder and saw a meaty stump of a neck. Still spurting little sprinkles of blood about. Holding back the urge to puke, he continued to wither his way from under the corpse. Kicking himself off of it as he scooted away, backed against a gaunt dogwood tree. Gawking at it, the lifeless flesh just lay there. Coated in sandy mud and gravel. The otherworldly canine that stood behind it stepped up upon the headless body, planting its paws on top of the man as if it’s stage. And yet again the two stood before each other. “Come... Sunlight is soon, and you look pathetic.”
A message from a mother living in Gaza to everyone who has a young child, brother, or sister and fears for them from any harm that may befall them.
Today, my children need you more than ever. Your donation is a lifeline; your support gives them hope that there are people who love them and want them to grow and be healthy.
So please don't hesitate to donate to those who need you now. Please be with them and support them.
The cost of a can of baby formula and diapers is estimated at $100 per week. They need $350 for both. How can my family afford these necessities during this difficult time? Donate what you can and share this so it reaches everyone.
Hey since TERFs buried the original, higher quality recording, here’s the only surviving recording of trans activist Sylvia Rivera’s infamous “Y'all Better Quiet Down” speech, along with full transcription, now free and open on Archive.org. The transphobic fucks can try their best to scrub us from history, but we’re not going anywhere.
some new designs for red & blue (f) in the masked special timeline - now out of team rocket and working to help professor oak (blue begrudgingly so)
their designs are supposed to be somewhat based off Surge and Sabrina who both where previously the higher up these two use to answer to and also somewhat worked as a teacher for them both
it is so fucking exhausting and annoying how white women, including and maybe even especially in progressive and leftist spaces, continue acting like they are not themselves still beneficiaries of tremendous privilege simply because they endure sexist or misogynistic discrimination. being a woman does not excuse the fact that you are still white and you still reap the benefits of being white! you do not get to "but sexism!" your way out of being held accountable for saying and doing racist shit!
never forget that WHITE WOMEN owned slaves, it was WHITE WOMEN who gatekept the womens' suffrage movement, WHITE WOMEN who not only participated in but also organized segregationist protests to harass and threaten children of color like ruby bridges, WHITE WOMEN who weaponize both their whiteness and their womanhood to threaten the safety and lives of black and brown people, WHITE WOMEN who had their own sect of the KKK, WHITE WOMEN who lied about black and brown men to get them murdered by lynch mobs, WHITE WOMEN who had significant influence in the eugenics movement, WHITE WOMEN who are just as complicit in settler-colonialist violence as white men are, WHITE WOMEN who receive preferential treatment to black and brown people of all genders seeking jobs and housing and education, and WHITE WOMEN who proclaim themselves to be the arbiters of feminism while forever ignoring the struggles of black and brown women and talk about white womanhood as if it is universal.
so forgive me but i am sick and tired of hearing about how WHITE WOMEN have it bad when WHITE WOMEN withhold their allyship until they can be certain that supporting the liberation of oppressed groups will benefit them in some way and are just as guilty of doing this as white men are.
and it's WHITE WOMEN who are going to see this post and ignore it like they always do, that is, if they don't add unnecessary paragraphs of "well, actually" full of logical fallacies and outright misunderstandings of how the fucking world works...
a white woman caused the tulsa massacre, one of the worst incidents of racialized violence in US history. the destruction of the black wall street, an entire town, schools, churches, homes, all fucking destroyed because of a singular white woman. most likely based on a whole fucking lie.
white women repeatedly tried to throw black people under the fucking bus in pursuit of their rights. not just cis straight ones either, queer white people have habitually done that. if i listed all the black people killed or jailed due to random claims by petty white women i'd be here for hours, and that doesnt include all the indigenous people they have also harmed. white women still to this god damn day habitually use their position within this white supremist ass world to get black people harrassed, fired from jobs, killed and more. they infantilize themselves and play the victim card so fucking often there is a fucking name for the phenomenon "white women tears".
and none of this shit is exclusive to fucking republican voting white women, i've watched hella "progressive" white women do the "white women tears", ive watched hella "progressive" white women say derogatory shit about black people particularly black women. ive watched white transwomen dogpile and rumor mill bullshit about black and indigenous people on this fucking site for even suggesting something they did was racist. we have seen how white women have thrown around the accusations of brown people in x y or z fucking nation are just so used to being misogynist to shut down criticism for fucking decades on live god damn tv. the worst part is black people have been literally righting books , stories, and giving lectures on this for atleast 200yrs and white women have no bothered to fucking read a word of any of it.
Not only was it a white woman crying that started those riots, it was the police department who helped her by deputizing the racist white mob, and this was just after Greenwood started to advocate against police racism. A white woman cried and it was used as a justifiable cause to punish and crumble an entire black community that still hasn't recovered. If the survivors weren't dead, they were left destitute and living in tents. A single white woman can be a hazard to an entire black community for generations to come.
So as someone that lives in Oklahoma and has heard from accounts of people who either are old enough to remember stories briefly after this event or had family members who were present at this event - this event was started because it was a way to destroy Black Wall Street.
Tulsa had one of the most successful regions in the entire us for Black people, North Tulsa/Black Wall Street has never fully recovered from this event and I can say this as someone that drove through this area frequently and still does.
This woman was used as an excuse to start this massacre, and my understanding is she did not particularly go out of her way to dispute it either, it was not to sell newspapers - it was to completely destroy this section of Tulsa because it was very profitable for Black people. I have grown up hearing about tensions building for quite some time and white people were looking for any opportunity to take away this wealth from Black people.
I need to be very clear about this because of the amount of damage caused - there are demographic maps of Tulsa separating it into the four directions and when you look at North Tulsa the life expectancy drops by at least 10 years. Not only that but the state of Oklahoma for the most part is still actively denying this event, denied any reparations to any survivors, and even if we have somebody in their hundreds that was a survivor from this event - they are not acknowledged and they are in a constant fight for recognition.
I don't know what your sources are but if you are thinking this event happened just because of racism in the want to sell newspapers, you are misinformed and you need to be aware of the importance of the location this event happened.
