#2875

[albertxylin]

Reverberating Life

A tongue drum hums, A voice with no need for breath to keep singing. It slowly grows quiet, Hushed and holy like empty churches That reverberate with hymnals and organs. The sound reaches and haunts And settles in my chest.

There is something beautiful about lingering in the world, About persisting long after you have made your mark, About living on in echoes that are still heard. Look, death does not mean you disappear. Death does not mean you are forgotten.

[tmt-sketch-a-day]

Sketch a Day 2875-Zipperhead- 1/7/24

[mostbelovedaewwrestlertournament]

Most Beloved AEW Wrestler Tournament 2

[my-chaos-radio]

Release: June 1, 1977

Lyrics:

Songwriter:

Who said the web of life is woven in a dream

′Cause your life is filled with dreams you can't believe.

So the only way you live with it is acting every scene

And you play the part so well, that you deceive

Now and again I find you ain′t got a friend

Who knows,

I come and I go,

But it's your life…

It's your life

It′s your life

Though the world is overcrowded you still found an empty place

And I know he leaves you helpless and confused.

And your search for love has often left you staring into space

Just another broken heart, so what′s the use?

How many times have I been so hard to find?

You know

I come and I go,

But it's your life… It′s your life

It's your life

How does it feel when he′s not around?

Can he be real when he can be found nowhere?

Who lit the flame upon the candle tonight?

And who let herself be lit so easily?

And who let it burn until the early morning light

And in the early morning gave herself to me?

And so,

My love,

You know

That it's your life…

It′s your life

That it's your life…

It's your life

It′s your life

That it′s your life…

Nicky Chinn / Michael Chapman

SongFacts:

👉📖

Homepage:

Smokie

[harveyphotography]

Castello Arechi - Salerno

[graintourette]

oops my hand slipped and i accidentaly drew The Guy again 🫢

[todays-xkcd]

It wasn't originally constitutionally required, but presidents who served two terms have traditionally followed George Washington's example and gotten false teeth.

2024 [Explained]

Transcript Under the Cut

[Ponytail and Cueball are walking.] Ponytail: So this is 2024. Cueball: Guess it's an election year now. Ponytail: Again? Man, those just keep happening, huh?

[Ponytail and Cueball now standing.] Ponytail: Who's the president these days, anyway? Is it still Obama? Cueball: What? No? he hasn't been... How do you not...

[Ponytail and Cueball still standing.] Ponytail: Darn, I liked him. Is he running this time? Cueball: No, he's not allowed to. Ponytail: He's not? Why? Cueball: Constitution.

[Ponytail checks her smartphone.] Phone: Amendment 22 Phone: No person shall be elected to the office of the president more than twice Ponytail: What?? C'mon...

[Ponytail talking to Cueball.] Ponytail: Don't all your cells get replaced every seven years, Ship of Theseus-style? Is he even the same person? Ponytail: Maybe "no person shall be elected more than twice" isn't a prohibition, it's more of an observation, like "you can't step in the same river twice."

[Zoom in on Cueball.] Cueball: Isn't the cell thing a myth? Cueball: I think tooth enamel has a turnover half-life of 30+ years. His teeth molecules are probably the same.

[Ponytail heads off with a finger raised.] Ponytail: So if Obama just gets false teeth, he can run again! I need to talk to a dentist and a lawyer! Cueball: The Supreme Court is about to vote 9-0 to block your number.

[dogstomp]

Dogstomp #2875 - November 20th

Patreon / Twitter / Discord Server

[hubukk]

"Buhari'nin de rivayet ettiği bir hadiste Aişe radıyallahu anha validemiz, Resûlullah sallallahu aleyhi ve selleme cihada kadınlar olarak katılmayı arzuladıklarını söyleyince ona cevap olarak kadınların cihadının hac olduğunu söylemiştir. Bu hadisleri esas alan fukahâ, kadına cihadın farz olmadığına hükmetmiştir. Ancak kadına cihadın farz olmaması, ona cihadın yasak olması anlamına gelmez. Zira sahabi kadınlarından bazılarının cihada çıktığına dair sahih rivayetler de vardır. Farz olmamakla yasak olmak arasındaki farka dikkat edilmesi gerekmektedir."

[drrafaelcm]

STJ suspende decisão que impedia Telebras de fazer manutenção em redes durante o dia em cidades do Tocantins

Continue reading STJ suspende decisão que impedia Telebras de fazer manutenção em redes durante o dia em cidades do Tocantins

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This home looks like the most ordinary of homes, but it has a secret. The owner spent years digging out the basement to make an elaborate cement rec room and an underground tunnel to connect this house to the house next door. The remodeled 1936 home in Concord, CA has 2bds, 1.5ba, 1,706 sq ft $675k. I thought that you get both houses b/c they connect, but they're being sold separately. The other one is $599k and has a pending sale. Check out this unique setup.

The two homes are mirror images of one other.

The owner also went all out remodeling the interior of the home. It's now modern, light, and bright. The original fireplace and windows remain.

And, check it out, he even had one of those cool vacuum-operated elevators installed.

The kitchen remodel features a flying-saucer-like lighting fixture.

These actually look like some of the original cabinets, refurbished.

Across the hall there's a cute little room.

The primary bedroom is quite large.

The 2nd bd. is lovely.

The full bath is a standard 3 pc.

Back here, there's a nice enclosed patio that you can use as a sunroom.

You can see the 1/2 bath and here's also a small office area.

You can choose to take the stairs or the elevator down to the basement.

He actually sculpted all of this out of cement and even put in electrical outlets everywhere.

Here's a wet bar.

Then, here he has a rec room with seating and an entertainment center.

Look at this- it's a train track and there's also a safe. It is the lead-in to the tunnel, too.

Let's go see what the neighbors are doing.

It's well-lit.

Hello? Anyone home? Looks like they moved out.

I don't like this one.

There's a nice yard. It even has a tree house. 7,405 sq ft lot. I love this house.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/2883-Concord-Blvd-Concord-CA-94519/18345939_zpid/

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/2875-Concord-Blvd-Concord-CA-94519/18345940_zpid/

[promptsforthestrugglingauthor]

Writing Prompt #2875

"Is there anything I can get you to help?"

"An exorcism, if you're willing."

[p0rn-girl]

Fantasizing about being trained into a shameless anal whore. I get ready in the morning like the proper slut, wearing a short skirt and a crop top with no underwear. I don't even own any underwear since you made me throw them all out. I come to you for a goodbye kiss, and you shamelessly grab my ass from under my skirt. You remind me that as an anal whore in training I have to wear my special buttplug.

You show it to me, it's bigger than the ones I'm used to. You explain: "This plug has sensors in it that detect when you clench your anus. Today, we're keeping count. You're going to keep it in for 24 hours. I want you to practice clenching your butthole on average every 30 seconds. That's twice per minute that you have to clench your tight little butthole on this plug, pretty achievable right?"

He shows me the counter. 2,880? That can't be right!

You continue: "Of course I know it might be difficult for you to keep up your squeezes while you sleep, but a good little whore like you is gonna work harder during the day to get a headstart right?"

I blush as I feel it stretch my anus. You grab your phone and look at the counter.

You continue "For each squeeze left on the counter it's going to be a slap on the face. I'd start as soon as I could if I were you. Now thank me."

"T-thank y-you.."

I suddenly feel a sharp sting as you slap me across my face. "You can do better. How else am I gonna know you're a whore that wants it? Show me you're just an anal slut trying to sate her daddy issues."

"T-thank you daddy" I say, blushing as the counter goes down to [2879] after I clench my butthole on the plug for the first time.

You slap me across the face again. "Real cute combining your thanks with a squeeze, but you can still do better"

"T-thank you for training my fuckhole Daddy. I want to train my ass so it feels better around your c-cock Daddy."

*Squeeze* *Squeeze* *Squeeze* 2878. 2877. 2876.

You slap my face again. "Yeah that's what you want? You want your fuckhole trained?"

"Yes daddy. I'm such a stupid little butt slut, I just want you to ruin my little fuckhole." [2875]

"Yeah? You're going to be a good little anal slut right? You're going to clench your butthole around a buttplug 2880 times in a day for me right? How easy is it going to be for such a butt slut like you?"

"Y-yes Daddy.. it's going to be really easy for a buttslut like me. Not a challenge for me at all" *squeeze* [2874]

"Oh yeah? How many would be a challenge for you?"

My pussy starts getting wet at being spoken to like this. Or maybe it's because of the plug that's getting massaged by my sphincter.

"I can m-maybe squeeze it at least every 15 seconds" *squeeze s-queeze* [2873, 2872]

"Beg me"

"P-please Daddy?" [2871]

"Please daddy what?"

"Please D-Daddy, make your dirty little anal whore's buttplug training even harder. *squeeze* [2871] Please Daddy, I want to have the best anal skills of all the whores you've met. Please make me squeeze every 15 seconds, I promise I want it and I can do it."

You smile, turn the phone and show the new "target". My face blushes. *Squeeze* *Squeeze* *Squeeze* [5750, 5749, 5748]

"That's a good buttslut. Now come suck me off while you get your count down, bitch. We'll train 2 holes at once."

[hilskygify]

Martin Hilský Transgender Day of Visibility pride GIF

M.H. o Shakespearově 20. sonetu: „Je to takový... dneska bych řekl až ‚transgenderový‘ sonet, ten dvacátý.“ zdroj: https://www.youtube.com/watch?t=2875&v=7jTwkAK-6-c&feature=youtu.be

[tuesdayaddamss]

who’s afraid of little old me; chibs telford.

part ii. abandon hope, all ye who enter here

summary: lennon knows something that samcro does not.

warnings: mentions of abuse, kidnapping, death, language.

author’s note: this is not cannon complacent! and it won’t be for the rest of the story.

word count: 2875

chibs has seen more of jimmy o'phelan in the span of two weeks than he has over the course of a decade, much to his chagrin. but, as many times as he’s come face to face with his demon, he has seen neither hide nor hair of lennon. he had begun to fear that her transgression was found out, that she’s now rotting in some shallow, unmarked grave, thousands of miles from her home.

but he assumes that, if that were the case, he’d be buried right alongside her. although, it would be very on-brand for jimmy to let him squirm, waiting for the other shoe to drop, and then stomp on him when he least expects it.

he hoped, though, that she’d merely been shipped back to belfast to wait for him along with his fiona. while she seems to be held close to the butcher’s chest, he supposed it made sense that he wouldn’t want her in charming with the feds sniffing around and blood being spilt. she surely knows more than she should, spending so much time in jimmy’s shadow; he wouldn’t want that knowledge falling into ATF’s hands.

still, chibs feared the worst. god only knows why he’s so torn up about some girl he doesn’t even know, but he finds himself looking for her in the curve of jimmy’s smirk every time. even while it’s all falling apart around him — the club, the brotherhood, his fucking life — he’s tormented by the thought of little lennon and what has, and might, become of her.

it’s not until cameron hayes snatches jax’s baby, abel, in his misguided attempt of avenging his own son, that they meet again.

he finds himself back at jacob’s, with the club this time, his toes nearly biting jax’s heels as he follows the distraught man inside. it’s been six days since abel was taken and gemma skipped town to avoid the false murder charges hanging over her head, and samcro’s been in absolute shambles since. jax’s sitting on a hair-pin trigger, and clay’s withering away without his ol’ lady around to take care of him, the rest of the club wilting beneath the tangible upset that the men radiate — when their president and vice president suffer, so do the rest of them. it’s the way of their world.

chibs is doing his damndest to be what they need him to be; a level head, a pillar, a friend. but he’s haunted by the living dead, fretting over his godson, and mourning his prospect. half-sack, as annoying as he was, was a good man, and he would’ve made an impressive son if cameron wouldn’t have gutted him. he, like so many do, went too soon.

jimmy’s waiting for them, in the same booth they had sat in last time, when the sons file into the bar, like a hoard of delinquents visiting the principal's office. but he’s not the one that catches his eye this time — it’s lennon, perched on the lip of a pool table, her face crumpled into a grimace. she looks, somehow, older than she did the last time he saw her, and it’s not merely because of her overly-mature clothes. the exhaustion and distress she’s feeling is practically leaking out of her pores.

but she’s alive, and he counts that as a blessing. he is not responsible for the death of this girl, at least.

her silvery eyes meet his, full of something that he cannot decipher; it leaves him anxious. it’s thick, whatever it is, sticky as a cobweb, and he feels that he should know. but he doesn’t. he unfortunately cannot read her mind, and he is not yet fluent in the wordless language of lennon.

jax and clay slide into the seats across from the butcher, the former with his chest puffed out and his teeth bared like an angry dog, the latter trying to keep this meeting bloodless. tig takes his place directly behind the president, one hand on his gun, as always, while the rest of them congregate in the back of the room; distant, but present. and this puts him only a few feet from her, his back to the wall and a brother on either flank.

“that’s her?” juice’s warm breath fans over his cheek as the boy leans close, his voice low to avoid being overheard. his club’s privy to what he witnessed that day between jimmy and her, after he spilled his guts in the chapel whilst telling clay about the IRA’s want for reconciliation. they’d been rightfully horrified, but the puerto rican was especially so — he has a sister that’s around her age, he thinks.

he nods grimly, and he lets out a heavy breath, as if trying to expel the phantom smoke of pity in his chest. “fuck.” which sums it up pretty damn well, he’d say.

“cammy arrived in belfast last night,” that gets their attention, all of them listening to jimmy and the news he’s delivering. “he was picked up, but your boy wasn’t with him. we don't know where he is, i’m tellin’ you.”

the blood drains from jax’s face, his nostrils flaring dangerously. if abel wasn’t with cameron, the chances are that he’s dead, or so far out of reach that he’s as good as — because if the kings had already got their hands on the traitor, he’s rotting in an alley somewhere with a bloody cross on his forehead, ergo no help to them. “that’s it? that’s all you’ve got, man?”

“i’m sorry, jackson. we’ll keep our eyes and ears open, and if anythin’ comes up, we’ll call.” the bastard seems almost sincere — too sincere. chibs doesn’t buy it, not one goddamned bit.

out of the corner of his eye, he sees lennon’s jaw twitch, her expression souring, and he hones in on it. there’s that something again; what does she know?

upon closer inspection, chibs notices the purplish-green bruises branded into her throat, or what of it peeks through her heavy foundation. the shape of fingers is so distinct that it cannot hope to be denied. his stomach churns.

jax stands so abruptly that he shakes the table, spilling jimmy’s beer and sending the alcohol all over the front of his shirt — which chibs gets some minor satisfaction out of — before turning on his heel and storming towards the door, their brothers following like the loyal beasts they are.

but chibs lingers, watching the young girl as if waiting for something; but what could she do here and now? what could he do? not a damned thing. but those bruises, that look, it makes him wish that he had a solution. she stares back at him through a curtain of cornsilk, shaking her head, as if she knows what he’s thinking.

so, feeling as though there’s an anvil on his chest, turning his rib-bones to dust and squashing his heart, he follows in his brother’s footsteps, pointedly ignoring jimmy and his wry grin as the mick bastard shakes hands with clay.

fuck diplomacy, chibs thinks, fuck the cause, and fuck jimmy o’phelan.

chibs is on his fourth bottle of guinness, the others hot on his heels, when chucky scampers into the clubhouse, visibly anxious and bouncing on the balls of his feet. after their meeting with the butcher, hours ago now, they all stuck their necks in their respective bottles and started praying for a miracle. without any real leads to follow, save for the dead irishman on the other side of the atlantic, there’s nothing to do but be patient and hope for the best. alas, they’re running short on both patience and hope.

“there’s a girl outside, lookin’ for jax.” chucky informs, rather timid as he braves the wretched ambiance of the clubhouse. “she says it’s important.”

the aforementioned vice president is a cunt-hair away from a nervous breakdown, thinly-veiled terror evident through a facade of rage. chibs isn’t convinced that he should be taking visitors at the moment, when he’s likely to shoot the first person to look at him funnily. “what girl?”

“dunno — i’ve never seen her before.” a stranger showing up on their turf, demanding to speak to a son is rarely a good omen; especially not in times like these. but here’s the kicker: “young, blonde, irish. she said she’s a friend.”

jax turns to chibs, brows raised, bloodshot eyes darkening. he’s never spoken to lennon, but it’s terribly similar to his description of her, and what little he might have noticed this afternoon. “why the hell would your girl come here, lookin’ for me?”

he’s half tempted to remind him that she isn’t his anything, that he doesn’t know her anymore than they do, he’d just been the first to happen upon her, but he recognizes that it isn’t the time nor place. “no clue, jackie.” he fears that jimmy might be two steps behind her, though.

and jax seems to be thinking the same, turning back to chucky with a frown. “she come alone?”

chucky nods, much to chibs’s surprise. he’d figured that her leash was a short one — he can’t imagine her handler allowing her to waltz into enemy territory, especially unaccompanied. that would be an awful big risk for her to take, and for what?

as soon as jax gets to his feet, chibs is trailing after the man, the rest of their brothers moving to follow; but the blonde stops them. “just chibs. you guys hang back, give us a minute.” no one’s thrilled about his decree, not having much love for the irish as of late, but they know better than to argue. even clay sits back down, clamping his mouth shut.

traumatized little girls are prone to being skittish ones, and the last thing they want is to scare her off with the cavalry.

there she is, as promised, waiting impatiently in gemma’s office, about as comfortable as a lamb in a lions’ den. with her arms crossed over her chest, jaw locked as tight as a rusty spring, chibs perceives that whatever she’s come for isn’t anything good. she relaxes minutely when she sees him in the vice president’s shadow — he’s familiar, somewhat, and he gave her a small taste of empathy all those weeks ago. he is, at least, more welcoming than jackson teller is in his current state.

“lennon,” he greets, as if he knows her. he doesn’t, but he feels like he does. there’s an invisible string, tying him to this girl, something almost tangible.

“mister telford,” she hums, her voice soft, as if she might be overheard. her expression shifts as she faces jax, it seems older somehow, more guarded. “mister teller.”

“you needed something?” jax isn’t as patient as he, clearly wary of what her being here could mean. jimmy o’ wouldn’t like it, not one bit.

lennon, thankfully, doesn’t care much for niceties. she’s on a time crunch, he figures. “you told jimmy that your mam didn’t kill edmund hayes.”

that’s not what he was expecting. not that he’d known what to think in the first place, really, but he never would’ve guessed this. chibs frowns, making a disapproving noise at the unnecessary bite in jax’s tone when he snaps, “what?” she’s not their enemy, he wants to remind him. she’s just a girl, a victim.

“humor me.” she pleads, with a sad smile that does not reach her eyes.

“gemma didn’t kill him,” chibs interjects, before jax loses his temper and accuses her of wasting his time. she has a point, he knows it, she just hasn’t got there yet. “he turned rat. shit hit the fan and an ATF agent, stahl, took him out. she pinned it on mother to save her own arse. cam acted before he got all the facts.”

her shoulders flinch, almost imperceptibly, and she lowers her head, her arms dropping to fold her hands in front of her. “jesus, mary, and joseph.” it’s so quiet that he almost misses it, but it’s heavy, full of grief and disappointment. edmund meant something to her, obviously.

jax is, unfortunately, not so quick to pick up on it. too drunk on his own sorrows to give a damn about another’s. “you came here for that?” he scoffs. “why do you care?”

“because eddie was my friend.” she retorts sharply, her eyes narrowing as she stares back at him. but, graciously, she allows it to roll right off her back. “but he’s not why i’m here.”

she glances out the thin, plexiglass window, swallowing anxiously. “jimmy lied to you about your boy.”

“what?” jax’s demeanor changes in an instant, from short-fused and twitchy to desperate and hopeful. chibs, too, gawks at her. “abel? he knows where he is?”

“when cammy got to belfast, the babe was with him.” she informs thickly, digging a small slip of paper out of her coat pocket and offering it to him. “he left abel with his cousin, maureen ashby. she’s good people, she’ll help you.”

“you need to move quickly, mister teller.” she continues, when jax is too gobsmacked to give any response. “he’s safe now, but i don’t know how long that’ll last.”

ten minutes ago, they were standing at square one, helpless, clueless, and terrified for the fate of the favorite son’s son — but now, they have more than just something to go off of. they have an answer. a destination. she’s handed it to them on a silver platter.

this is more than a sentimental letter from a long lost daughter. this isn’t just her betraying jimmy. she’s betraying the kings, the IRA as a whole, in order to help them. she’ll die for it. he knows it, and she must too. even jax seems to grasp the weight of the favor she’s doing them. lennon, an absolute stranger, is putting her head in a stockade for abel’s sake.

“why are you doing this?” jax croaks, grasping the tiny piece of paper reverently, like chibs had taken kerrianne’s letter weeks ago.

“because children belong with their fathers.” she speaks from experience, her words bloody and raw, her eyes shining under the fluorescents. “be wary of your irish brothers. and the priest, too. don’t trust the gimp any further than you can throw him, aye?”

a good catholic would never speak so ill of a man of god — but chibs isn’t much of a saint these days either. this world robbed him of that. lennon, too, probably has plenty of reasons to turn her back on the cross.

jax nods feverishly, but chibs feels like he’s gone stupid, as if she’d just smacked him upside the head with an iron bar. her tone takes a twinge of desperation when she speaks again, averting her gaze. “and, please, leave my name out of it for as long as possible. once you reach belfast, they’ll know that i helped you, but until then–”

“you’re goin’ back with him?” his voice returns to him then, those words hitting him like bullets. if she goes to jimmy now, and he finds out what she’s done, he’ll do worse than kill her. he cannot stomach that thought. this poor, brave girl dying because of them, because she’d tried to do the right thing.

“we fly home tonight.” she confirms, and she won’t look him in the eye now, like his concern may burn her retinas. “i’ll do my best to keep an eye out for abel until you get there,”

“he’ll kill you.” chibs points out, shaking his head in disbelief. he feels that he’s only breached the tip of the iceberg that is lennon, knows that there’s more here than selflessness and tragedy, but no sane being waltzes into the arms of their would-be murderer, of their captor and torturer. he might assume she has a deathwish, but he knows better. if she wanted to, she surely would have ended herself by now. something’s stopping her. the same thing, he presumes, that’s calling her back to the short strand.

“no, he won’t.” she sounds so confident, so sure. she’s either a fool or a martyr — not that there is much of a difference.

she straightens, smoothing down her skirt and turning for the door. jax’s hand shoots out to snag her wrist, and she bristles slightly. “thank you.” he breathes, adjusting his hold to squeeze her fingers. “i can’t– i don’t know how i can repay you for this, but if you need anything, the sons will be there.”

she smiles, but it’s bittersweet, as if he were a naive, overzealous child, despite him being twice her age. “may the road rise to meet you, jackson.” she bids gently, extracting her hand from his. chibs wonders when she last felt such a kind touch. the blessing strikes something within chibs’s heart, old and familiar and warm.

and then she’s gone, as quickly as she’d come, and chibs is left staring after, an awful feeling in his chest. one question has been answered, but a thousand more have risen.

“what do we do?” jax begs, watching her shiny black car turn the corner and disappear, like he is.

“we go get our boy.” chibs tells him grimly. and then, they go ghost hunting.

taglist: @youngadult9016 @tommyflanaganfan-blog