When's The Appropriate Time To Make Eye Contact With Someone You're Passing On The Sidewalk??

“We need to strive to be more accepting of POC” you guys can’t even handle religion.

turns out i've been sleeping with mold for an indeterminate amount of time?????

These days are very difficult. For 60 days, we have only eaten bread. There is no such thing in Gaza. Even vegetables are no longer available. Due to the high prices, a bag of flour costs $1,000 and I cannot buy it because of its very high price. There is also the lack of work because of the occupation's bombing of my workplace and the crossings are closed because of the war that has spared no one. You are my only hope.

I ask everyone to share the post and also donate here so that we can live in peace and hold on to our land. Every single euro can save our lives from death. Click here and do not hesitate to donate anything.

You do not have to be Palestinian to defend our cause and rights. You must simply be human.

This is a Moving Forward PSA for everyone using AO3. I am witnessing the results of a culture clash and communication failure. Not a lack of communication, but a misunderstanding caused by changes in fandom culture.

Before fic tagging was common, fics weren’t tagged. You had a pairing, if applicable, an author’s note about genre or general content, and if they were feeling charitable, a vague content warning. There are even a few genres of fic where even vaguely tagging literally spoils the plot and impact (such as horror, psyche thriller, in which the likely content is implicit to the genre). As a result, there is a basic category tag that permits this, as a courtesy to “old-fashioned” writers.

“No Archive Warnings Apply” means the fic is PG13 at worst, probably fluff, totally safe.

“Choose Not to Use Archive Warnings” is the polar opposite. It’s a glaring Enter at Your Own Risk billboard. It means: a shitload of warnings apply but I ain’t telling because this story requires shock value. It’s very important to read the author’s notes for those fics because they might be using that older format from above.

But without the context of fandom culture that generated AO3, it’s understandably easy to conflate the two categories, given their similar wording.

She was murdered in a restaurant. In a public space. And they haven't reached a verdict.

In Kazakhstan, on the night of November 8–9, 2023, the murder of Saltanat Nukenova occurred in the BAU restaurant, which is located in Astana.

She was killed by ex-Minister of National Economy Kuandyk Bishimbayev.

Almost six months have passed since the crime was committed, but the court has not yet passed a verdict, although there is all the evidence and all the witnesses.  Bishimbayev is defended by six lawyers who ask the brother of the deceased inappropriate questions, and the judge does not reject them, thereby making his brother emotional in order to take him out of the courtroom and continue the hearing without him, which will help Bishimbayev, since he does not admit his guilt.  Quoting the words of the defendant Kuandyk Bishimbayev: “I do not admit guilt completely... Not that completely.  I say that I did not intentionally kill a person with particular cruelty."

Saltanat came to the establishment with her husband, ex-Minister of National Economy of Kazakhstan Kuandyk Bishimbayev.

According to investigators, while intoxicated, he “inflicted a series of crushing blows to the woman’s head with his fists.”  The wife fell to the floor, and then Bishimbayev began kicking her.  Nukenova tried to hide in one of the rooms, but he knocked down the door and beat her again.  After that, the ex-minister grabbed the woman by the throat and began to choke her.

He also said that he punched and kicked his wife for eight hours.  When Saltanat “wheezed,” he saw a large bruise on the entire left side of her face and a swollen nose.  The man was scared, but instead of calling the doctors, he called a clairvoyant.  Bishimbayev, in his own words, thus wanted to find out when Saltanat would “come to his senses.”  The clairvoyant told Bishimbayev that she would soon feel better, after which the official left his wife in the VIP room, and he himself went to a previously planned meeting.

As the brother of the accused, Bakhytzhan Baizhanov, later said, when he arrived at the scene of the incident, he saw a woman who was unconscious.  At Bishimbayev’s request, he picked her up and laid her on the sofa.

Then the ex-minister went to have breakfast, and upon returning “20-30 minutes later” it turned out that Nukenova’s body had become cold and her pulse had disappeared.  Baizhanov suggested calling an ambulance.  However, Bishimbayev decided to wait.  He made attempts to “bring her to her senses” with the help of ammonia, to which the beaten woman did not react.

Please don't be silent.  Spread this news even if you are not from Kazakhstan.  Especially if you are not from Kazakhstan.

The trial of Bishimbayev can be watched live on these channels:

https://youtube.com/@TengrinewsTVKZ?si=sYRtAVo9uBSM9g8D

https://youtube.com/@SupcourtRK?si=qulLenvYE3Y0Pa0W

If you are from Kazakhstan, then please sign the petition regarding the confiscation of Kuandyk Bishimbayev’s property:

https://alash.online/1707-sud.html

“and i levitate down your street” just gives me a really funny image in my head

Mmm gorlic bred

RB to give mutuals a little kiss and some garlic bread

We also have charades

At a friend's house for the weekend, trying to find someone to do. Sadly we can't find Cards against humanity so.....

Ow.

traitor - @jegulus-microfic - word count: 248

“I…I don’t understand,” James whispered, tears falling softly from his cheeks.

“I know,” Regulus murmured, looking down, his stomach like lead.

James blinked, his hand reaching forward, slowly circling around Regulus’s bare arm.

Well- not bare. Bare would mean clean. Unblemished. His arm was Marked and scarred with deep black lines and ink. 

A thumb brushed softly over the newly-branded skull and snake on Regulus’s pale skin.

“It’s…it’s a joke. You’re joking, right, Reg? Trying…trying to make me mad?”

The frenzied, desperate hope in James’s voice made the tears fall from Regulus’s eyes, too, and it was all he could do to pull his arm away and turn his back.

“No, James. No.”

“Why, Reg?” James’s voice broke at that, so raw and vulnerable that Regulus almost fell to the floor with the weight of his choice. But he couldn’t go back now.

“I…I’ve always told you. This is who I am. I’m…They…I had to,” Regulus whispered, his back still turned, his hands shaking. The half-truths ate at him just as much as James’s ruined expression. “I…I made my choice.”

‘We’ll find Sirius and Potter,’ Walburga had threatened. ‘It’s you or them.’

“You didn’t have to do anything,” James responded. But his voice was angry, now.

Then help me, Regulus wanted to yell. Do something.

But as he whipped around to look at James, all he saw was devastation and fury.

“Traitor,” James spat, before exiting the room.

And Regulus fell to the floor, sobs tearing through him.

Nonstick broom