#╰ * . ｡ * ✰ safiya speaking. ❜

[starryeyedjanai]

Hiiiiiiiiii tall flight attendant lady hiii

[beebeesiims]

Do you relate to any of your ocs? If yes, why? 🚨 Send this to 10 simblrs you adore ❤️

not just bc she's my heir, i think i relate pretty hard to miss safiya. i also thought my mom & dad gave me an unrealistic expectation of romantic relationships.

i also also got cheated on by my high school boyfriend (which you guys didn't see with saf but it happened).

[thetimecrystal]

can my brain let me enjoy something for once?

[athena5898]

NORTH GAZA (RNN) — The director of the besieged Kamal Adwan Hospital in Beit Lahia, Dr. Hussam Abu Safiya, (https://t.me/PalestineResist/64510) speaks from within the ICU where the injured and medical staff are besieged after being bombed by IOF tanks and a lack of aid or fuel reaching the hospital.

The second video shows when Dr. Abu Safiya reported on the siege and bombing of the hospital earlier today, including the ICU. Over 150 patients in a critical condition are in the hospital, and 15 require critical surgeries but are unable to receive them.

A UN delegation arrived at the hospital coinciding with the siege.

[ababanerb]

Soldier On

summary: Freshly discharged from the Ferngill military should be a relief, now that the war is over. But Safiya finds that surviving nine hellish years as a child soldier and battle mage is only half the fight in life. With nowhere to go but her dead grandfather's farm, and no family to speak of, she arrives in Pelican Town. Armed with nothing but PTSD and a fierce will to survive, she goes through the painstaking ordeal of relearning how to live.

note: this is a multi-chapter fic, you can find the master list for this fic here

read on AO3

Here’s the thing about war –- there are no more orders to follow when the fighting’s stopped. And for Safiya, that’s an entirely new war. Ferngill and Gotoro were both guilty of using child soldiers to make up squads of battle mages and field medics, finding and using children as young as fourteen.

When the war ends, albeit on tense terms, the world is surprised, and most of the people Safiya knew during her time in the military know exactly where home is for them now that they’ve been sent home for reunion and reintegration.

But Safiya is set adrift.

“Here you are, Colonel,” Her commanding officer says, smacking her in the face with her release papers where she’s laying on her cot in the barracks, “You’re free to go.”

Safiya nods her thanks, nine years of disuse outside of barking orders and short briefings has rendered her voice useless. She reads her dismissal papers soundlessly, and even though she’s glad to be going home - especially when she knows that most infantry won’t be going home for another six months at least - she doesn’t even know where home is anymore.

She packs her things quietly, her personal belongings are military issued uniforms and a ceremonial saber, everything else she’d brought with her as a fourteen year old girl lost to the person she’d become in the war. Her pack had been light when she’d been drafted and deployed as a girl, and it was even lighter now. The feel of her half empty pack bouncing against her back as she leaves the military base has a pang of melancholy racing through her, made even worse when she collects a stack of letters from the administrative office on her way out.

Most of them are from her grandfather, her mom’s dad, and she tears open the newest one right there in the administrative office, then quickly wishes she’d waited to get on a bus to open it.

To my dearest Saf,

It pains me to know that you did not get to see your mother again before she passed, that this war has taken so much from you at such a young age. Even moreso, I am sorry that I do not get to see the woman you’ve grown into.

In the event that you’re reading this, it means that I have passed and joined your mother on the other side of the veil. I hope that I do not see you there anytime soon.

My dear girl, you have always been strong, but you’re allowed to be weak in the peace. I know you haven’t known peace in many years now, and I cannot imagine how long you’ve gone without a moment's respite by the time this war comes to an end. So, assuming the war has ended by the time you read this, do this old man a favor— enjoy the peace, my girl. Revel in it as I know you haven’t in many years, and then find peace for yourself.

Enclosed in this letter is the deed to the farm. Our farm. The Valley is full of magic, if you remember, and Atwood Farms is rich with it. I think, like Yoba, that the magic in the Valley is benevolent, and you will find exactly what it is that you need. I can only hope that I’m right about this, but as you know all too well, my dear Saf, magic is fickle.

Perhaps you should ask Rasmodious about it should you move to Pelican Town? I’m sure he’d be delighted to indulge you.

If you do choose to come to the farm, know that it’s still being maintained. Rasmodious has been kind enough to make sure that all of Atwood Farms will be taken care of. It shall remain exactly as it did when you were a girl, and as it does now.

Find peace here as I did, and as your mother did.

All my love,

Grandpa

PS — Call Lewis and let him know you’re coming, dear girl. And tell him and Willy I say hello.

She really wishes she’d stepped away to read it as tears brim in her eyes, but they do not fall. She takes the first bus she can out into the Valley, and she curses at the price of the ticket for the connecting bus ride into Pelican Town. But she forks the fifty dollars over anyway, and she sits and has the worst lunch she’s ever had in the bus station terminal.

It’s all vending machine food, stale trail mix and a flat cola, and she realizes how strange she must look, still dressed in her combat uniform as she hunches over her crappy meal as she dials the number listed on the town’s website she’d found on her phone.

She’s half-tempted to turn to the few people in the terminal and tell them that if they think she’s strange now, then they should also know that this is her first time using a cellphone since she was fourteen. The technology has changed since then, and while she’d had a touch screen as a girl, flip phones had still been pretty much the norm when she was drafted. Now, her phone scans her face to unlock, and the touchscreen is nowhere near as clunky as she’d remembered them being as a kid.

The line rings maybe three times before Lewis picks up, his gruff voice jovial as he answers, “This is Lewis, with whom am I speaking to?”

Safiya has to clear her throat before she starts - get her vocal chords at least a little warm to save Lewis from the grate of her voice, “This is Safiya Atwood, I’m calling in regards to Atwood Farms. My grandfather, William, left me the deed.”

She hears a quiet clattering over the line, and as she strains her ears, it sounds like he might be in a bar, “My goodness, Safiya, it’s good to hear your voice! Are you looking to sell the old farm?”

Safiya nods, humming into the receiver as she chews on a handful of stale nuts, “Thank you, but no, I’m actually looking to move onto the property. I’ll likely be there by sundown today. I was hoping you might have the keys?”

There’s another scuffling in the background, a door creaks and shuts, “Uh- Yes, I do. I’ll meet you at the bus stop around sundown, Miss Atwood.”

She mutters her thanks, and the call ends with a quiet beeping in her ear. She leans back on the bench as she picks at the crappy trail mix, sighing as she waits for the bus. The silence is weird, now, having spent so many years listening to the sound of gunfire and combat going on around her.

It’s unsettling, really, as she watches people walk past her, just living their lives. Most of them not even batting an eye at her appearance, or even really caring that it’s so quiet. Hell, the hissing of the bus’ hydraulic brakes has Safiya jumping in her seat when it pulls into the bus stop. But nobody else bats an eye at her.

She takes a seat near the back of the bus, which is empty save for the maybe ten people scattered about, and they all give her as much of a wide berth as she gives them. She ignores the odd stares she gets, settling in to look absently out of the window. She knows she must look strange, still in her military issued mages combat uniform, the deep black and brilliant gold detailing would give away her status in the chain of command if any of these people cared. But it’s the dead of winter, and most of these people have either just finished up some last minute Winter Star shopping or are heading home to spend the holiday with their families.

Safiya hasn’t celebrated any holiday since she was thirteen, but she can still remember the distinct joy of unwrapping gifts so painstakingly wrapped by her mother and grandfather. And though she’d never participated in the yearly tradition of brewing a hot cup of tea to drink out of their finest china, she had burnt her tongue on many cups of hot cocoa as a girl.

It feels like forever ago now, a glimpse of the past through the break in the treeline as the bus flies down the highway — another piece of her lost to the war. Shot to pieces and left to be buried in the mud of the battlefield.

The world moves on though, and the bus comes to a halt at its first and only stop between Grampleton and Pelican Town, in another rural town called Pine Valley. Where Grampleton is quaint and cozy in a touristy way, with all of its original downton architecture intact and well maintained; Pine Valley is Grampleton’s pothead cousin. Safiya had heard her mother make the joke a hundred times over as a girl, when she hadn’t quite understood the joke, but as an adult, the joke is an apt comparison.

There’s nobody left when the bus pulls out of Pine Valley, Safiya the lone passenger on yet another lonely journey.

It reminds her vaguely of when she’d first been drafted. Most mages lived out in the countryside in larger towns, or out in the boonies. But Safiya had spent most of her childhood in Zuzu, with her mother. Smaller towns and villages might have a few mages, or even whole families, but most anybody with any affinity for the arcane tended to stay away from cities — where the magic became too muddied with other people's energies to do anything useful with it. But Safiya had felt the magic strongly in Zuzu, not as strongly as she did out in the valley, but she’d felt it there — humming just below the surface, some wild untamed thing, so different from the smooth flowing calm that mages were used to out in the valley.

So, she’d been a rare breed in a breed already rare in its own right. One of the few mages that the government had been able to find in cities, and she had been the only passenger for that bus ride too. Armed with nothing but the shaky promise she’d made to her mother.

I will not relent.

The promise had followed her through her brief military training, and at some point in her training, the mantra had changed to soldier on.

It plays in her head even now. As the sun begins to set and paints the sky alight with brilliant shades of red and gold, and as the bus rolls to a stop next to a beaten down bus at a bus stop that looks more like a patch of dirt on the side of the road. There’s no need for those words now, she reminds herself, as she collects her few things and steps off of the bus, but it repeats regardless.

There is no one waiting to greet her at the bus stop when she steps off of the bus, the driver wasting no time to shut the doors and make a sharp u-turn back to where he came from, but she doesn’t mind. She knows that if she were to follow the path West she’d stumble across Atwood Farms, and the tiny village center is off to the East.

She doesn’t move. Instead, she opens the side pocket of her bag, grabbing for the carton of cigarettes she’s been carefully smoking her way through for the last two seasons. For every mage she knew, every single one of them had their fix in the military. The single pack was the first she’d ever laid hands on, given to her by her commanding officer just before the war had come to a ceasefire. The first time in years since their barracks had seen any real use outside of the bare necessities for living.

She’s been savoring them since.

The sun has only just begun to set, but Safiya knows it only takes forty-five minutes at best for the sky to go completely dark, and she keeps an eye on the dirt road leading into the village square as she holds the cigarette between her lips and lights it up with a small flame on her fingertip. The smoke burns on the way down, particularly bad in the cold, even worse with so much snow on the ground.

Snow is good, the colonel, the soldier, inside of her says, Harder for the enemies to sneak up on us. Crunchy. Visibility is high with the snow.

She tells the colonel to shut up and let her enjoy one of her last few cigarettes before the carton is empty and she goes back to living the cigarette free life she’d been living before. The colonel doesn’t shut up, she smokes her cigarette anyway and sends it off in a plume of smoke and ash when she’s finished with it, letting the wind carry away the remnants for her.

It’s as she watches the tiny specks of black and gray be carried off by the wind that the crunching of footsteps meets her ears. The colonel yells for her to get low, to grab for a rifle, raise a shield, shoot off a quick blast of fire, anything, and she forces herself to ignore it. To curl her hands up tight at her sides and just observe the squat old man walking down the dirt road.

“Miss Atwood?” He calls to her, the same jovially gruff voice she’d heard over the phone some hours ago, and it takes her a moment to realize that this must be Lewis. So much older than she remembers him being.

“Yes, sir,” She addresses him stiffly, though she does not salute, her hands relaxing at her sides, “Am I right to assume you’re Lewis?”

“That would be me,” He nods happily at her, stretching his hand out towards her for a handshake when he reaches her, she just puts her hand over his, gently pushing his outstretched hand back towards him.

“I’m rather jumpy with my recent dismissal,” She says, tone apologetic, and she hopes that is enough explanation for him, not wanting to get into the details of how she could very well accidentally kill him with how on edge her magic is. Not knowing friend or foe in this new battlefield off of the battlefield.

Lewis nods again, smiling wider, and she relaxes upon seeing he takes no offense to it. It’s maybe the most pleasant interaction she’s had all day, not having to worry or explain away the quirks of war, “Thank you for your service, Miss Atwood.”

Scratch that.

Safiya internally cringes to her grave and back, “Ah, sure,” She mutters, and her fingers tap at her palms, “It, ah, it’s really not anything you need to thank me for.”

Especially not when it hadn’t exactly been her choice to go out and fight in a war she didn’t care about. Not when she was fourteen, and especially not now, not when the war is over. The casualties on both sides had been brutal. Good people had been lost for a conflict that hadn’t needed the force either side had responded with.

But—

“Here we are,” Lewis says, rifling through the pockets of his well-worn coat, pulling out a keychain she immediately recognizes as her grandfathers, the Junimo charm handcarved by her grandmother some decades ago, “Billy left these in my care. He’d always hoped you’d be ‘round some day to get ‘em.”

Safiya clears her throat, finding it suddenly hard to swallow around the thick, viscous, lump in her throat as she eyes the little Junimo keychain. Originally painted granny smith green but faded with time and chipped in places from being dropped, and the small chip of yellow paint from when her grandfather had set his keys on the still wet paint of her childhood paintings.

“Well,” She manages to get out, voice gone thin and reedy, “I’m sure he’d be pleased that I came back at all.”

It’s a morbid joke, one that usually gets laughs in the barracks in the warzone, but Lewis doesn’t laugh. He just chuckles awkwardly, handing the keys to her and avoiding touching her bare hands with any part of him.

“Billy loved you dearly, Miss Atwood,” Lewis says after clearing his throat, “He’d be happy you’re here, no matter where you were.”

Here. Not here, here.

Here. Like, alive, here.

“Ah, right,” Safiya agrees, and she wonders how much bigger the lump in her throat can get, “I suppose you’re right.”

“O’ course I am,” Lewis laughs, a hand on his belly like he’s Santa off the clock, “Your grandpa was my best friend, you know!” Her lips tilt up in the smallest of watery smiles, and Lewis smiles at her from beneath his thick mustache, “Anyway, Miss Atwood, I must be gettin’ back now. Have a happy Winter Star.”

She watches him go, snow crunching under his boots as he walks away, and she stares at the faded Junimo charm on her keychain. It’s weighty, if only in sentimental value, and she rubs her thumb over the faded green wood and the yellow spot of paint, a bruise of color.

She sighs, turns on her heel and makes the short walk through the snow to Atwood Farms.

[transit-fag]

I'm assuming you've seen the Safiya Nygaard video taking the Zephyr? Tbh I'm thrilled that she's introducing the youths to the joys of overnight train trips

I had never heard of her till I got the video recommended to me a dozen times, but it'd pretty good, it speaks highly of transit and is both fun and informative

[ashwantsafreepalestine]

The sounds of Israeli airstrikes and bombardment so close to the hospital are terrifying.

Dr. Hussam Abu Safiya speaks about the explosive robots detonated 50 meters from Kamal Adwan Hospital, large drones dropping 20-kilogram explosives on nearby homes, and smaller drones targeting any movement near the hospital.

Israel is wiping out the north of Gaza right this very moment. Please keep talking about Gaza. Please keep sharing.

(source)

[arcadiabaytornado]

Live Playing Double Exposure First Thoughts:

A: Okay, I do love that you can pick Max’s outfit right away. I chose the rainbow sweater.

B: This sounds over dramatic but it was so intense to see Max’s face again. For a very brief moment I was 13 again watching Max wake up in the storm.

C: Am I insane or all the sounds in this game like…muffled?? I have my audio settings all the way up so it’s not that. Speaking of settings I also took the motion blur off and the graphics look so much now.

More Undercut

D: I’m already finding it super interesting that Max finds comfort in the destruction of old buildings after hell week. That could mean a lot of things but I’ll wait to see if the game tells me before I get analytical.

E: I love Safiya already. PLEASE let her be a love interest.

F: I do love the camera mechanism!!!!

G: Max lost her powers after hell week? That’s also super interesting holy shit. I’d love to know more about that, though my guess is that Max maybe completed her purpose with her power and therefore lost it? I wonder what that would mean for Daniel and Alex….

H: I’m trying to not to think of Chloe to much, but man she would have loved an old abandoned bowling alley.

I: Getting used to older Max is an adjustment. She doesn’t feel out of character per se, but it is weird because I keep expecting her to act like her eighteen year old self and then she doesn’t because she’s older now.

J: Older Max is already coming off as a lot more confident/reckless than younger Max. I like that change a lot!

K: I don’t know how I feel about Max making a one liner every time I examine anything.

L: Ah fuck. Is fate after Safiya or Max this time.

M: Did they really put the “We will :)” flashback right before making us confirm that Max and Chloe broke up. I’m going to fight Decknine.

N: Max is never beating the autism allegations.

O: I know people are upset at the “high school sweetheart” line but in context it seems like Max is trying to deflect the conversation to not talk about what Chloe actually was to her.

P: The texts between Max and Chloe were so uncomfortable to read. I know the storm changed them both, but….i don’t know…it just seems weird that Chloe reacted like that to Max wanting to move in with her permanently. I’m getting the vibe that their relationship was mentally and emotionally over on Chloe’s end way before it was on Max’s end.

Q: Max is ghosting her parents now and that devastates me.

R: Can I have a middle ground option on Amanda? I’m not ready for Max to have a huge crush yet, but I wouldn’t say she’s not Max’s type.

S: Okay, the Chloe/Victoria thing seems like fanfiction. It’s the only thing so far that I’ve gone “ugh” at.

T: The Vortex Club parallel is not lost on me.

U: I’m sorry but Max’s eyes look so bad…she also looks like she had a different model from every other character for some reason??

V: I’m just going for it and saying “A date thing” If Safiya is a romance choice later on I’m going to be so mad. But that’s what other saves are for.

W: Hearing Chloe’s name is a jump-scare at this point lmao.

X: I’m loving Moses. He’s so awkward and seems really sweet. Which makes me scared he’ll be the killer because the LIS franchise does not let us have nice things.

Y: I don’t even know how Max is SUPPOSED to talk about what she’s running from regardless if she sacrificed Chloe or the Bay.

Z: I wonder if they’re going to give Max’s power a celestial explanation and that’s what’s with all the solar system imagery.

[starsfic]

Let's Make Bath Bombs!

Happy birthday @kai-keda! I was watching a video of Safiya Nygaard combining all the bath bombs from Lush, and that sounded like something Xiaotian would want to try with the encouragement from the twins, and Red's a sucker for his adorable family.

-_-

"What on Earth are you doing?"

Red Son's wonderful, lovely, breath-taking husband looked up, goggles over his eyes. In one hand, he held a hammer. On the other, he was prying a bath bomb out of Xiaobo's hands, halfway to his mouth and wearing his own tiny goggles. If Red wasn't so shocked, he would've cooed at the adorable sight. Speaking of bath bombs, the entire table was covered in them, hitting all corners of the rainbow. On the other end, Peter sat with goggles of his own.

"...Combining all of the bath bombs?"

Red took in a deep breath and sighed. "From where?"

"That fancy place down the street. You know, the one ran by that nice snake lady?"

Red knew the place. He had bought soap for his honeymoon from that place, and the snake lady in question had congratulated him on his "fun night." She sold a mixture of normal stuff and more magic-laced stuff. Based on the amount he could see, he was willing to bet Xiaotian had bought even the magical ones. "Okay. Why?"

Xiaotian set down the hammer and scooped Xiaobo up. "Okay, so we decided to step inside because she had that new food-shaped collection and I figured it would be fun since Pigsy's celebrating the anniversary of the noodle shop opening. And then Peter wondered what the bath bombs would look like combined, and then..." Red could practically see it with that explanation. “Xiaojiao even sent me a video of some woman doing it.” And he could see that, the enabler.

"The lady looked really surprised," Peter said with an adorable little pout. "And now, Baba won't let me smash them."

“They even promised to not make a fuss about getting a bath so the could try them!”

There were several ways Red could've responded. He glanced to his nervous-looking husband, his sulky son, and to his other son who was trying to stuff another bath bomb in his mouth, with Xiaotian grabbing the bomb before he could take a bite. He sighed. "Is there another set of goggles and a hammer?" Xiaotian, his sweet light, face lit up in a smile as he nodded to the counter. There, as if expecting he would say yes, sat goggles and a hammer. Red sighed again and turned back to the table. “First, we have to organize these. By color. It’ll make things neater.”

“Aww…”

“Okay!”

Turns out that, yes, Xiaotian bought all of the bath bombs, including the more magical, sexy ones. Red distracted Peter by sorting, as well as teaching him how to swing a hammer, while Xiaotian grabbed them, Xiaobo chilling on his back and far away from grabbing and eating any of the bath bombs.

Once a rainbow of organized bath bombs decorated their table (with a drop cloth protecting it, Red honestly couldn't believe Xiaotian had forgotten that), the smashing could begin. Red took on the duty of making sure Peter didn't hurt himself as he swung his hammer, guiding him down and through the strike on the defenseless bath bomb.

"Ooh," Xiaotian said as he opened a green one. "This one smells minty! What does yours smell like, bud?"

Peter sniffed his bath bomb, which had been shaped like a mango before the little one had taken great delight in destroying it. "Vanilla!" he said.

Red raised a brow at the declaration. "Can I smell it?" When the little calf nodded, he leaned forward and sniffed, his brow raising further at the scent that greeted him. "Huh. It really does smell like vanilla. Weird."

"Oh, remember that red lava one, Peter?" Xiaotian said, clearly stifling laughter based on the shake of his shoulders. "The one that looked like it would smell like strawberries but smelled like peaches?"

"Yeah! Bath bombs are weird!"

“I think just this store’s bath bombs are weird,” Xiaotian chuckled, spreading his hands. “They’re magic!”

“Magic, and expensive.” Yeah, they would be talking about how much money Xiaotian spent on this project. Red would be more irritated if he didn’t know Xiaotian hadn’t used their mutual credit card. “What other weird smells do you think there are?”

Turns out, loads.

Once all the bath bombs (save the “special”) ones were smashed with minimal property destruction (why did the store even sell exploding bath bombs?), it was time to grind. And once that was all done, an issue arose.

“I don’t think this will all fit in one mold.” Red grabbed one of the molds his family had gotten and eyed the size. Yeah, nope.

“Aww!”

“But we can make two kinds!” Xiaotian said, “And throw them in together!”

Peter and Xiaobo’s eyes went big. They didn’t even have to speak to make clear their agreement.

In went the powder. Red took orange and yellow, Xiaotian took red and purple, and they divided up the other colors in between them. Carefully tucked in were dried flowers, shea butter, chunks of dried orange, and other goodies tucked in the bath bombs Xiaotian wanted to keep whole.

And then, it was bathtime.

"Okay, are you guys ready?"

"Ready!" Xiaobo threw his hands up at the same time as Peter, babbling something that Red was willing to guess was "yes." Both of them sat naked in the bath tub full of water, Xiaobo contently floating in his little seat.

Red chuckled, holding one of the bath bombs. Xiaotian grinned as he grabbed the other. "Okay, one, two, three..."

"GO!"

Xiaotian dropped his bomb in, and Red followed suit. The moment the bombs hit the water, they began to sizzle and foam up. The boys cheered as colors began to spread across the water. Red honestly expected some shade of grey or muddy brown, since that was what you got when you mixed every color together. He was pleasantly surprised that, through some kind of magic, the colors spread and kept, turning the water rainbow.

"SO COOL!"

"It is!" Red chuckled, enjoying the sight of his children enjoying the wonder of bathtime. He glanced at Xiaotian, who smiled sweetly at him, reminding him of the other bath bombs waiting to be combined. “Now, remember what we agreed on?”

Thankfully, the twins’ joy didn’t die at being reminded of bath time. Both were too amazed by the rainbow water and the sweet smells that rose up to really notice Xiaotian gently shampooing their head and rinsing it out, only to replace it with conditioner. Red made sure that behind their ears were clean, Xiaobo not even raising a fuss.

He really needed to keep those bath bombs in stock if it got the twins to enjoy bath time.

[cryoriku]

Youtube recs for syskids or agere folks ages 6–9:

potential concerns italicized!

Li Speaks 🎮

Deep-dives of 00s internet kids games like girlsgogames and ava star sue. Very cute and calming voice too.

CarynandConnie 🎮

Bubbly and funny twins who decorate houses in the Sims.

Jenny Nicholson 📽🎡

Movie/book reviews (including a number of kids movies and MLP), explorations of theme park history, and random interesting/nerdy topics. She is both appropriate and funny, + she dresses up for each video!! She does review a few R rated films and romance novels — but it'll be obvious which not to click. :)

Pokéire 🎮

Sweet and calming lets-play's of Pokémon, Animal Crossing Wild World, and Nintendogs. She has another channel posting her music (Irish and English) and more, AmyMcDonaghGuitar, which occasionally includes swearing.

Mr. Nostalgia 📽

In-depth discussions of Disney, Nick, and Cartoon Network movies and shows.

Safiya Nygaard 🌎💄

Travel vlogs, makeup/food 'science', and simultaneously goofy & informative fashion analyses. Safiya has a very bubbly personality and is fun to watch. She may make mild inappropriate jokes and swear from time to time though.

MLP Official Channel 📺

Livestreams of MLP episodes and MLP videogame walkthroughs.

Disney XD Official Channel 📺

Full episodes of Phineas and Ferb, Gravity Falls, and more.

Maybea Crafted 📚

Elementary school teacher who has read aloud a couple chapter books like Holes and Gregor the Overlander. (No longer updating)

Peanutbuttergamer / Peebs 🎮

Talks about videogames and toys, and makes silly edited videos and songs about videogames too. Generally appropriate but may make the occasional naughty joke or talk about a game little ones could find scary. Sometimes has ad reads on newer videos.

Did you know gaming? 🎮

Fun facts and analyses about a wide range of videogames, especially nintendo games.

SeDUCKtive 🪿

Vlog of a man who takes his pet duck places. Very cute and wholesome.

Tasting History & Emmymade 🍴

Both cooking youtubers with a light historical/cultural educational factor. Tasting History has more of the vibes of a dad cooking but has a very thorough historical analysis for all he makes. Emmymade is very sweet and has a calming voice and is more focused in the craft of cooking. Both sometimes have ad reads.

[hmurillo]

Blog Post 9/19

How is technology involved in racial code?

Names have become a serious issue in today’s society regarding how it will profile an individual based on how it sounds. This can cause the individual to be stopped by law enforcement in a form of “public safety”. Technology has now been embedded with racial coding being predictive of the kind of person who can be behind the name that follows as such leads to forming stereotypes which is not an acceptable thing to do.

How do algorithm’s divide society? 

The power of algorithm’s has a way of dividing social relationships from the form of racial profiling. This comes to play with how technology has been embedded with discrimination leading to people of color to pay higher interest rates. This also interferes with men and women in the workforce. Women tend to be paid less in a company’s workforce solely for the purpose because they are incapable of being as good as men are, which is all not accurate.

Why is intersectionality important?

Many tend to not notice how intersectionality happens. The awareness regarding black women's experience against police violence is extremely low compared to black men. In the TED talk with Kimberle Crenshaw she states names of many individuals whom most have heard about, it was not until she started naming women that most did not know who they were. This is because news reporters and politicians do not speak about them without informing the public.

How does intersectionality affect individuals in an education setting?

Intersectionality is a form of a problem that affects society such that it can come into play in an educational setting for students of color as well as their gender. Race and gender stereotypes can intervene students from getting and receiving equal educational opportunities just because of their identity. Identities are an issue within all kinds of institutions which is why it's important for schools to provide curriculum development and opportunities for all students.  

Benjamin, Ruha. 2019. Race After Technology.

Crenshaw, K. (2016, December 7). The urgency of intersectionality | Kimberlé Crenshaw | TED. YouTube. https://youtu.be/akOe5-UsQ2o?feature=shared

Crenshaw, K. (2018, June 22). Kimberlé Crenshaw: What is Intersectionality?. YouTube. https://youtu.be/ViDtnfQ9FHc?feature=shared

Everett, Anna. 2002. The Revolution Will Be Digitized. Noble, Safiya. 2018. Algorithms of Oppression.

[smokefalls]

What the body speaks is untranslatable,

Safiya Sinclair, “Dreaming in Foreign” from Cannibal

[athena5898]

NORTH GAZA (RNN) — 310 medical staff were abducted and 4 were martyred in the recent aggressions on the northern Gaza Strip, according to the director of field Hospitals speaking to Al-Arabi TV. Among the martyred doctors is Dr. Mohammed Ghanem of Kamal Adwan Hospital (https://t.me/PalestineResist/64326), whose director Dr. Hussam Abu Safiya (https://t.me/PalestineResist/64571), has been abducted (https://t.me/PalestineResist/64732) by the IOF.

[estah]

jill snider for @whiimms’s someone for safiya

26-she/her

traits: foodie, hot-headed, creative

likes: baking, dancing, blue, jazz

dislikes: kintting, desserts that aren’t well done, spooky music

jill grew up with her parents baking! they made all kinds of desserts, you name it! when she was old enough, she said decided to open a little bakery which she runs with her dad. jill is the sweeest person you’ll ever meet until…her dessert doesn’t come out the way she wants it to. then she becomes hot-headed. don’t speak, or even look at her when what she thought was going to be a masterpiece doesn’t come out right. she’s big on that! everything must be perfect. doughnuts need to deep fried in a certain tempature- not too high and not too low, the cupcakes have to decorated properly -perfect amount of icing, crush 1 cup of blueberries for the blueberry muffins not 1 and a half, not 2, but 1!… “she’s doesn’t joke around when it comes to her baking. this is the reason why the bakery is so successful” - one of the staff members

to be honest...love has not crossed her mind, ok maybe it has a little bit. her dad told her to be open-minded, and apply. she is a bit hesitant to leave but she knows the bakery will be in good hands and can’t wait for the journey to finding love to begin!

[oddballwriter]

Vintage Cooking

Summary: You and Marc decide to make a vintage meal from the 60s for fun because it looked awful. Turns out it is awful and making jokes is the only way to get through it. 

Warnings: Jokes about being a miserable housewife and mentions of the '60s drugs era, all of these of course being jokes. Gender-neutral reader. 

Author’s Snip: I got this idea from watching this video with Tyler Williams and Safiya Nygaard where they make this abomination of food and just thought "That's great, I'm using that for something.".

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Word Count: 602

Marc looked down at the array of ingredients on the counter. They seemed like something for a simple normal dish until his eyes landed on the box of jello powder in the collection that made him cringe with regret for what you and him are about to make.

"What the hell are we doing?" he pondered to himself out loud. "We're cooking like it's 1960, Marc." you laughed. Marc looked over at the reference image that you had on your phone, seeing it in all its should-have-stayed-in-its-era disgrace. "And why are we making this?" he asked like he wasn't originally on board with making it for kicks. "Because it looked disgusting and we both agreed that it would be funny to make it and try to eat it." you explained in a polite matter-of-fact voice as you pulled up the recipe and instructions, first of which being making a boiled chicken broth to make into jello.

After being assaulted with the smell of the broth after boiling as instructed straining the water into a bowl, and setting the chicken aside, you gave Marc the honor of making the jello part.

"What were these people on?" Marc mutters under his breath as a stirs the pot with a whisk. "I want to say drugs but that was the mid-60s. This was made in 1962." you mention, "Suburban nonsense." you settle on using as an explanation. "This is just complete suburban nonsense." you say. Marc laughs, "Suburban fuckery, you mean." he says.

As Marc kept whisking in the pot, he speaks again, "There had to be some housewife back then who was wondering how the hell someone comes up with this.".

"I think they were all too fucked up on wine to care." you joke. "I think you need to be fucked up on alcohol to do this without regretting your life choices." Marc comments back.

After having banter about the lives of people in the 60's, and making the chicken broth into a chicken stoke, it was time to build up the actual forming of this awful dish. You both place the pieces of veggies and other things into their assigned layers laughing about having a weird desire to get the placements right and not have the pour of jello ruin it.

After a few hours of layering, pouring, and repeating till the pan was filled, it was time to release your vintage abomination and take a slice. "I'm regretting everything." you laugh nervously as you cut into the gelatinous creation. "This is a bonding experience but in a we-are-both-regretting-this way." Marc said.

"Okay," you say as you set the two plates down with their slices, "Do you want to feed them to each other all cliché newly-weds style?" you ask. "I would love nothing more." Marc says as he cuts a piece from the slice and you mirror him.

Finally tasting it was truly something. You chewed it for a bit before abruptly stopping and just letting it sit in your mouth because you didn't know how to react. Meanwhile, Marc kept chewing it, but still looked displeased with the end result. After swallowing he looked at you, finding that you took the trash can and spat into it.

You both stood there in silence before smiling then grew into laughing.

"That was the worst," Marc said. "If I were a husband coming back from a long day of work and you made that shit I would have just left." Marc joked through his laughing. "Maybe they were on something more early on in the 60's after all." you joked as well.

[anestofocs]

It was a beautiful day outside and Safiya decided to tend to her garden. Pruning dead leaves and flowers in order to encourage new growth, watering the plants. To cleaning up the patio. It was a relaxing work for her.

"Ah, a perfect day. Hmm later on I should pick some of the vegtables for dinner. I can try that recepie Sergei found for me."

Speaking of the sweet Russian lad, she sure hoped nobody came loooking for him..