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#New Party
k-star-holic · 8 months
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There was no such thing as "Jujutsu Kaisen 0"...Run, Jo Bo-ah's awareness of the mind ('Deferred Fire')
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Not unexpectedly, the new party lasted approximately 5 minutes before starting a prison riot, killing the guards, and completely derailing the first section of the adventure.
At least we have an experienced DM who will be able to Figure it Out™
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if-you-fan-a-fire · 1 year
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“COMMUNIST UNDER P0LICE ESCORT,” Kingston Whig-Standard. November 2, 1932. Page 1. ---- A pair of London bobbles leading a Communist demonstrator from the scene when Communists and Fascists clashed in Trafalgar Square. "The Heart of the Empire" during a rally of Sir Oswald Mosley's new Fascist party. The occasion was the first meeting of the Mosley group.
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reasonsforhope · 1 year
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“The Irish government is offering a €325 weekly basic income trial for artists which will last for three years. As part of the trial 2,000 artists will be randomly selected from all of the applicants. The government definition of artists is broad and covers any creative or interpretative expression, including: visual arts, theatre, literature, music, dance, opera, film, circus and architecture.
The trial hopes to minimise the loss of skill and experience from the arts sector whilst also recognising the value that artists contributes to society. In addition, the trial is aiming to prove that a basic income enables artists to focus on projects without their projects being impacted from the stress of needing to look for work in other sectors to sustain them. Artists who receive the payment are also free to obtain additional work if they please without affecting the payment, however the payment is taxed so additional work may change their tax rate...
The policy was announced by Ireland’s Minster for the Arts Catherine Martin who is a member of Ireland’s Green Party. The Green party are one of three parties in a coalition government in Ireland. When launching the policy Martin said,
“I believe that this scheme is the start of a fundamental change in the way Ireland supports and recognises her artists and arts community.”
Martin went on to say,
“This pilot scheme represents a groundbreaking opportunity for us to explore how the role of the artist in Irish society can be protected and nurtured so we can continue to be inspired by great art for generations to come.”” -via The Good News Hub, 4/30/22
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embraceyourdestiny · 5 months
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Dropout is great because while on a traditional network nowadays you would have one knockout concept and be done with it never revisiting it again dropouts like “okay we love doing that now let’s do it AGAIN and AGAIN and make it BETTER and more COOL and more ENJOYABLE and let’s keep doing it until our hearts tell us to stop and we love doing it so that might be never so long as we’re passionate about it” and that’s so fucking cool, in an era of commodified creativity the enthusiastic passion for the arts that drives dropout is not only refreshing but heartwarming and cathartic as a fellow creative who would love to have the chance to do what I love to do like that.
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listen I expected literally Nothing from the D&D movie okay, like I can't make it clear enough that I expected the most soulless money grab with a good cgi budget imaginable, I went in having already gone through every stage of grief and landed on acceptance and LISTEN
I fucking CRIED during this dumb RPG movie. it wasn't just "not terrible" it was objectively good with a clever plot and compelling characters and sincere emotional beats. this movie loves D&D so fucking much and it NAILS the "a bunch of goobers try to be cool and accidentally discover The Power Of Friendship And Also Great Violence" classic D&D party vibe. their barbarian's last name is fucking Kilgore and my entire family cried in the theater.
I hope they make twelve of these motherfuckers.
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Happy Birthday, Bennett!
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livwritesstuff · 1 month
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“Steve,” Eddie mutters, “Stop it, you’re staring.”
Steve is staring, eyes fixed on a family sitting in a cluster of seats two rows ahead of them on the commuter rail — a mom and dad with three kids, the oldest no older than ten, the youngest four or five. They’re not too much older than Steve and Eddie’s own kids (who are seven, five, and two), and by the looks of the princess dresses and mouse ears and branded souvenir bags they’re also on their way home from the afternoon Disney on Ice show at the TD Garden.
“That mom,” Steve says, addressing Eddie even though his gaze doesn’t shift away from the unsuspecting targets of his relentless judginess, “is upset because her kids are whining and misbehaving, but they asked for food and she said no, and they said they were bored and she ignored them.”
In Steve’s defense (not that Eddie would actually say any of this to him; he doesn’t need the egging on), his assessment isn’t exactly incorrect. All three of those kids are either colossally melting down or just on the verge of doing so, and both of their parents are mostly ignoring them.
“God, and they’re gonna grow up learning they can’t rely on their parents for help,” Steve continues, “I just...I just don’t get why we had to go through all those evals and interviews and home visits and shit before we were deemed suitable parents when any idiot straight couple can just have a kid with no regulation whatsoever.”
“Steve,” Eddie says through gritted teeth as he glances at their own daughters to make sure they aren’t eavesdropping (they’re not – Moe and Robbie are sitting by the window and playing with the toys they’d gotten to pick out during intermission, and Hazel is halfway to asleep in Steve’s lap), “My love — little pitchers.”
Steve only shrugs, but he does drop the subject for the rest of the train ride.
The universe must hate Eddie (or love Steve) because that family gets off at the same station as them. Hazel is completely sacked out by then, and Steve had taken her while Eddie manned the older two and they’re busy running ahead of him to the car so there’s literally nothing he can do when Steve detours away from them to follow a few yards behind the other family.
When he finally makes his way back over to them, it’s with a gleeful grin on his face.
“I knew it.” Steve says with a gleeful grin, “I knew they had to be shitty parents.”
Eddie eyebrows flew up, because – seriously, the fucking audacity on this guy.
“You know what I always say – you can either be a good parent or have a clean car, and that car was fucking spotless.”
“Steve Harrington.”
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life-on-our-planet · 1 year
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Playtime for young kea birds! There’s a benefit to this apparently carefree behavior. It helps establish long-lasting relationships between the youngsters and even diffuses tension. David Attenborough | BBC Earth
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k-star-holic · 10 months
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Hyun Chul Jo, ovation shaman ⁇ Stay Puft Marshmallow Man
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pachimation · 9 months
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a secret rendezvous in fontaine
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if-you-fan-a-fire · 1 year
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“A scene in Trafalgar Square, London, Eng. showing Sir Oswald Mosley, leader of Britain’s new Fascist party, addressing hundreds of his followers. This meeting took place shortly before thousands of London hunger-marchers Iand unemployed staged a riot, in which several persona were injured in the battle with police and many more arrested. It was the most severe riot ever staged in London. Police, mounted and afoot, held off thousands of hunger-marchers from the palace of the King and from official residences on Downing Street in Sunday's outbreak. Some seventy of the rioters have been injured since the first disturbance Thursday last.”
- from the Kingston Whig-Standard. November 2, 1932. Page 10.
[AL: Not entirely clear from this reporting if the New Party participated in the unemployed protests, or was merely trying to steal some valour and recruit from the gathering.]
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hairmetal666 · 4 months
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Steve has a problem. Not a big problem--not an Upside Down-sized problem--but still. A problem. In the form of Eddie Munson. And not the person Eddie Munson, who is second only to Robin in the hierarchy of Steve's heart, but his feelings in regard to one Eddie Munson. Namely, his enormous, devastating, gay crush on the guy.
And he knows, okay, he knows Eddie is gay, but that doesn't mean he wants Steve. Eddie is probably into other metalheads or dnd nerds. What could Steve, with his sports and his polo shirts, possibly have to offer?
He's coping, though. Or, at least, he thought he was until the Family Video phone rings and Jonathan invites them to the New Year's Eve party he and Argyle are throwing at their new apartment.
"We have to make a no-date pact." He tells Robin as soon as the phone is back in the cradle.
"Or you could just ask Eddie."
"You could just ask Nancy." He raises an eyebrow.
She lets out a slow breath. "Yeah, okay. No-date pact. I'm down."
It's just as easy to get Nancy and Eddie on board. Nancy just laughs and says "yeah, like I'd bring a date to the party my ex-boyfriend is hosting with his new boyfriend. How you do you even start to explain that dynamic?"
And Eddie snorts right in Steve's face (it's not cute, it's not), says, "Right, cause my dating pool in Hawkins, Indiana is just ripe with guys who want to ring in the New Year with me."
Steve wants to say that he would be that guy, happily, giddily, but he can't risk blowing up his second most important friendship like that, not when Eddie's never given a fraction of a hint that he wants Steve too.
But that's his problem solved, right? The four of them aren't bringing dates. Easy-peasy.
Unfortunately, Steve's life hasn't ever worked out like that, and the party turns out to not be only their little end of the world crew and a handful of people Jon knows from his grocery store job, but an actual motherfucking party.
It takes almost ten minutes for him and Robin to navigate through the sea of strangers to find Jon and Argyle handing out solo cups in the kitchen.
"Who are all these people?" He shouts over the pounding music, nothing like Steve's ever heard.
"Argyle got a job at the record store down the street," Jon yells.
"Co-workers." Argyle nods. "And a few of their friends."
"A few, right."
"The more the merrier. Right, my dude?"
"Sure." Steve takes a cup. "You seen Eddie around?"
"Living room, last time I looked." Jonathan answers.
"See you around?" Robin asks.
"At least meet up for the ball drop," Argyle answers.
They push their way into the cramped living room, and Steve searches for that familiar cloud of hair, the ripped black jeans. It takes a minute just for the sheer amount of bodies pressed into the small space, and when he sees him Eddie's--
He's standing against a wall, next to the stereo (of course), but there's someone with him. Someone who is tall and leanly muscled in a way that Steve isn't. Someone with long hair pushed back from his forehead. Someone with facial piercings in places Steve didn't even know you could pierce and tattoos and a chain hanging from his worn blue jeans and a bandana in his back pocket, just like Eddie.
And Eddie he's--he's gazing up at this dude with clear stars in his brown doe eyes, body angling towards the other man like he can't help but push more into his orbit.
Steve turns hard, Robin colliding with his side. "Steve, what the--oh."
"I hate New Year's Eve," Steve sighs, trying to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach. It's always been the kind of holiday that is high on expectation and low on follow-through.
"C'mon, I think I spotted Nance over by the bedroom."
He lets Robin guide him across the room, steadfastly not looking back at where Eddie is very obviously finding himself a date. It's okay, Steve reasons. It's okay because that was obviously the kind of guy Eddie would be into it. He knew he had, like, no chance. He shouldn't be disappointed. He shouldn't.
The evening slips away in the shove of people, in the solo cup that manages to always be full in his hand, and he tries as hard as he can to ignore the way Robin and Nancy start sharing the same space.
So much for the no-date pact. He would laugh if a sort of deep loneliness wasn't seeping into his bones.
There's a girl, though, across the room. She's in a short dress and glances at Steve from under hooded eyelids. He could make a move; could have someone to kiss at midnight; have someone just for the night. But then--his heart makes a pathetic patter--Eddie.
Eddie who is practically in that stranger's lap.
He goes out for a cigarette.
When he comes back inside, it's five minutes til midnight and Nancy and Robin are dancing slow and sweet to a song that is neither.
He's happy for them, almost incandescent with it, but the loneliness sinks deeper, reaches marrow, especially after he fails to find Eddie in the crowd.
Steve thinks it might be time to give the whole failed endeavor up for good, but Jonathan and Argyle, both in tiny 1987 novelty top hats, appear at his side.
"Stevie-boy!" Argyle bellows. He lifts Steve at the waist, twirling him, and Steve laughs despite himself.
"Keeping busy?" He asks.
Jonathan pounds him on the back, just a little too hard.
A guest yells from deep in the apartment, "one minute to midnight!" and the music turns off, the TV tuned to Dick Clark and turned up.
Nancy and Robin find their way over, Robin mouthing "sorry," on her way. He pulls her into a side-hug; he'll never begrudge her any happiness, even on his worst day.
From across the room, there's a crash, a short yelp, and then a familiar head of fuzzy brown curls makes its way to them.
"Sorry, sorry." Eddie apologizes as he shoves through the other guests.
"Hi, guys!" He beams at them, cheeks flushed. Steve looks away so he doesn't have to think about how beautiful Eddie is; about how he's not the one who made him blush so pretty.
The countdown on the screen reaches 30 seconds, and the party goers start chanting.
"What happened to--?" Steve can't help but asking.
"Psh, that dude? He's a punk. Plus, I couldn't imagine ringing in 1987 without you guys by my side."
Steve blushes and rolls his eyes. "Sap." He knocks his hip into Eddie's.
"You love it," Eddie wraps him in a loose hold.
The count is down to 10, the ball almost dropped, Jonathan and Argyle and Nancy and Robin making soft eyes at each other.
"What's going on in that head of yours, sweetheart?" Eddie knocks his head gently against Steve's.
"It's nothing."
"You're pouting." Eddie mimics him with a poked out lip.
The count is down to 5.
"Fuck, I just--I wanted to have someone to kiss at midnight, you know?"
The ball drops, the year changes over, the room cheers. His coupled up friends cling to each other in soft, joyous kisses.
Eddie's eyes flick to their friends, to the guests, all kissing and embracing and celebrating, then back to Steve.
With two careful fingers, Eddie lifts Steve's chin, makes it so he can't look away.
"Fuck it," Eddie says. He leans forward, kisses Steve with soft authority.
And Steve just--he just fucking--crumbles into it. He makes a soft noise, curls his fists into Eddie's t-shirt.
Eddie's hands work their way into his hair, pulling him closer. Steve goes eagerly, crushes their bodies together.
They kiss and they kiss, and it's already so far from a friendly New Year's kiss, but then Eddie's tongue swipes into Steve's mouth, and the kiss breaks.
"Um," Eddie says.
Steve can't respond because all his focus is on not giving into the weakness in his knees and collapsing to the floor.
"I've wanted you to do that all night," Steve says.
"Oh." Eddie's face blossoms into a slow smile. "Me too. A lot longer than that, actually."
It's Steve's turn to smile, and he does, so hard it hurts his cheeks. "Me too."
Eddie presses their foreheads together. "Happy New Year, Stevie."
Someone starts singing Auld Lang Syne loudly and off-key, but they're quickly drowned out by a chorus of accompanying voices.
"Happy New Year, Ed."
Steve pulls him in for another kiss. 1987 is already shaping up to be the best year of his life.
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allastoredeer · 24 days
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Ya'll want to know the funniest shit?
I'm researching the era when Alastor was alive right now to get a better idea of both his character, the life he lived before Hell, and to hash out a backstory for him.
And so, apparently, Alastor lived through the Prohibition (which was basically the United States government illegalizing the manufacture, transportation, and sale of alcohol because they thought it was the cause of a lot of domestic violence and child abandonment).
Alastor canonically died in 1933.
Do you know how long the Prohibition lasted?
From 1920-1933.
ALASTOR LITERALLY DIED THE SAME YEAR ALCOHOL BECAME LEGAL AGAIN. CAN YOU IMAGINE HOW BITTER HE MUST'VE BEEN?
The Prohibition officially ended on December 5, 1933, and now my headcanon is that Alastor died December 6, 1933. Literally the day after he could legally drink all the booze he wanted.
I am learning a LOT about New Orleans and the era Alastor lived through (including the gay community in the city at the time) which has been a lot of fun, and I just wanted to share that tidbit because it is so fucking funny to me.
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eyes-are-mosaicss · 4 months
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goodbye 2013…
hello 2014 !!
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