#FUCK THAT SHIT MAN

[georgeinamerc]

OKAY THATS IT ENOUGH😭

[haven-gum-rockrose]

Fuck music fuck music hate music grrrr

[freetheshit-outofyou]

The Shit We Talk About

Today, my old gunner and I were talking about our families, his mom is slipping deep into Dementia and my Grandma was just put on end of life care. The commiseration that only folks who almost died together can get. Ford: Man my mom’s slippin’ bad.  I had to call APS (Adult Protective Services) in California to do a health an welfare on her because she was talking about my dad and brother fighting in the house. And I’m like dad lives 900 miles from you and David lives in Portland. Me: Fuck man I’m sorry. I remember when my Aunt went out like this. I don’t wish it on the people I hate the most. Ford: I don’t want to get stuck in some dementia loop of being in Iraq. Me:………fuck………….no Ford: ………………………………………………………Yeah. Me: Ford: Me: When my Great Grandma got lost in her dementia loop, grandma was able to pin down where she was by the conversations she would have with people who had passed already. People Great Grandma would have known when she was younger, grandma said great grandma was stuck in her life at about 14 to 17 years old and she was happy there. On the other side of that……. My best buddy’s grand dad was a B-24 waist gunner during WWII, the loop he was stuck in was a mission over Bari Italy in 1943. His grandpa was stuck in that B-24, with one waist gunner badly wounded next to him and not being able to help him, and the aircraft damaged not knowing if he was going to survive…….for two fucking years before he died. Ford: Me: Ford: I’d rather get cancer. (flat as fuck too) I’d rather get fucking cancer and punch out that way than be stuck in any number of days there (Iraq). I can’t imagine, no fuck that I refuse imagine a world where I’m stuck in a never ending loop of any of our worst days there. I would rather die a slow and painful death from cancer than be stuck there. Ford: Ford: Me: I feel you right in my soul fucker, but (and there is always a but.) can’t it be like a nice cancer not like butt or nut cancer, but like that skin cancer that can just be lasered off and we’re done with it, kind of cancer? Ford: You know there is no “nice” cancers right. Me: Me: Yeah. I lost my grandma to adult Leukemia last May, my grandpa to non-hodgkin's lymphoma in June 2006 while we were in Iraq. I lost my Aunt at 53 to Non-small cell lung cancer and one of the guys from another unit I was in to cancer at fucking 27. Yeah, man I know. Ford: Me: Yeah. Me: Fuck man I can’t be stuck in one of those days for years. I rather tap out now than have to relive those days over and over again. I’d also prefer to not get cancer. I mean can’t we have both, no cancer and not getting stuck in some fucked up dementia loop? Ford: Yeah, but no, you know we’re going out the hard way right to the bitter end because the hard way is all we’ve had. We’ll both get stuck in a day watching the best of us blown to chunks from an EFP (explosively formed penetrator) over and over. All I can say, is I’m glad you’ll be there with me. Me: (Me, crying into my cell phone.) I fucking hate you for making my cry. But, (And there’s always abut.) I fucking love you for pointing out I’ll suck in that dementia loop with you. Cancers starting to look like a better option. Ford: If other people heard our conversation right now they’d be like what the fuck is wrong with them. I said but some will also understand 100%. When I was younger my biggest fears was drowning or burning to death, now that I'm older, now that I have survived some things, I think my biggest fears are having survived those really bad days and everything that led up to them…..until I died.

[evilautist]

i used to love tumblr for being a site where i could curate my experience and shit but then blaze happened and now i have to stare at random bitches nudes

[jackal00ps]

“Punch your local terf” is such a shameful slogan. Not because violence against terfs is particularly bad, but there shouldn’t be enough of them for them to exist on a local level.

I think bringing up "it/its" pronouns is a good test for people who claim to be "trans allies" because it so easily weeds out the people who are only doing it superficially. I've seen so many people who will post "Punch your local TERF #transrightsarehumanrights" and then turn around and be like "If someone says they go by 'it/its' pronouns it's actually good to misgender them because they're just teenager trenders"

[doodlboy]

Doing a heaaavy unfollow 4 /obl0ng egg bc for some reason a whole ass adult needed to bully an actual child

[perfunctory-satisfaction]

not having a good time :(

[illusioncanthurtme--art]

Physically? I am sitting in my bedroom. Mentally? Spiritually? I AM DEAD ON THE FLOOR!!!!! THESE TWO HAVE KILLED ME!!!!

(Another drawing! This was originally attempt #1 at drawing stan, and then fiddleford just showed up. Kinda feels like them five minutes after the above acting like nothing happened though, so it works sdjkgkjfshj)

[ink-the-artist]

Love the contrast between the Americans’ “Apollo” and the Soviets’ “Sputnik.” You got the Americans naming their rocket after a Greek god trying to communicate the grandness and importance of this rocket. And you got the Soviets naming their rocket “fellow traveler.” Like a friend you go on an  adventure with together. This rocket is our little friend lol 

[liquidstar]

Yes, Greece still exists, we didn't all die 2000 years ago. Yes, people speak Greek. You people are so fucking stupid for real. So many of you claim to love ancient shit but can't even acknowledge the actual living culture of the people whose mythology and classics you romanticize. You keep leaving annoying comments about how you just forget Greek people still exist, thinking you're being quirky because you love ancient stuff soooo much that you forgot about the people it came from. You think about it so little you don't even realize that an actual Greek person has to read this shit, making it clear how little you actually care about the culture beyond the romanticized (and westernized) mythology. Don't claim you love Greece, don't use our mythology anymore if you can't acknowledge that we're still around without making it about how little you think about us. It's mind boggling that you'd think a Greek person would read this and think you're anything but obnoxious. Explode.

[bajaja-blast]

you dislike Luke Castellan because he disagreed with an oppressive government system and actually took action to change the abusive ways him and his peers have been forced to follow for millennia.

I dislike Luke Castellan because in the Titans Curse he manipulated Annabeth, who he raised as his little sister, into holding up the sky, the FUCKING sky, for over 20 hours and had the audacity to walk away as though he was completely apathetic towards it while she begged and pleaded with him to help her.

we are not the same.

[mybrainisslowlyboiling]

The whole "never judge a book by its cover" saying is wild to me. It tends to have a more positive connotation, meaning "don't judge something harshly due to its appearence/first impressions." Like it's trying to imply not to stereotype people in your brain and be open to trying new things, and I get that, but I have never read a book with a shitty cover and decided "Hey, this book ain't half bad." But the amount of times I have picked out a book with a cool cover/title and been severely let down by its contents is CRIMINAL. And I REALLY suggest we go back and reevaluate this saying.

[the-phantom-peach]

horrible art burnout so it’s 4 am and I’m scribbling Mouthwashing <3

they make my brain tired

[meet-again]

This is why i literally never update tumblr.

Every time you update you have to go in and change 5 settings so the app stays usable.

The tiktok-ification of tumblr is just 🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢

[shotmrmiller]

your superior finding out about the secret praise kink you didn't know had a name because you'd always been called an over achiever, a goody two shoes. never gave anyone any trouble, nose burrowed in a book since you had knobby knees and a library card.

you'd thought it normal that the apples of your cheeks burned when praised after giving your teacher the drawing you'd made for them the night before. that heat spread from the center of your chest up when your first boyfriend/girlfriend whistled at the sight of you outside of uniform. that warmth settles in your belly when you get a pat on the back from your platoon leader firm enough to force the air out of your lungs because you'd disassembled and cleaned a glock with the ease of a professional.

apparently it wasn't.

after weeks of training with the fabled task force, weeks of sharing elbow room with the team, weeks of soaking up the dizzying praise from the captain ("did real good out there, eh? can always count on you." you didn't question the throb betwixt your thighs, taking care of it with a cute little bullet like you've always done since joining the military)

you're confronted by the worst of the lot. ghost catches you in a break room, your back to him, hands clutching a cup of coffee that's more sludge than liquid, its warmth barely seeping through the styrofoam.

his figure fills the doorway, shoulders nearly brushing the frame. your first thought is that his brows aren't twisted together and he lacks that cold, blank look in his eyes so your death isn't in the nearest of futures. the second is that when he's not fully covering his face, the outline of his jaw is quite visible, looking sharp enough to cut.

then he crosses his sculpted arms over his chest, seams straining against the expanse of his muscles, head tipped to the side.

he moves with the keen curiosity of a predator sniffing around a newborn fawn, gaze intense yet inquisitive, assessing your every detail with a menacing interest.

"you ever gonna tell me you've a praise kink, bird?" the question sends a chill through your veins before turning into a fiery rush as it races at twice the normal speed.

praise kink? no. surely not. doesn't everyone like to receive compliments?

"sure. i don't mind gettin' told i've an impressive cock but that's bed talk. you look ready to bend over 'nd show us how slick tha' pretty cunt can get over a rufflin' of hair and a couple of empty words."

that has you positively reeling, fingertips cracking the cup in your hands, pulse on your neck fluttering. you feel a cornered, skittish animal, ready to flee lest your life come to an end in his maws.

but as usual, the cruel man more creature than person, twists the knife he's dug into you with a certain ruthlessness only he can muster.

"so be good for me, eh? love your praise? earn it."

you've always been an over achiever, proven once again by the way you take him to the root in one long, broad stroke with any complaints at the sheer size of him resting firmly behind your clenched teeth.

"tight little thing, spread open over me like you were meant for it. for me." he runs a gloved thumb over your swollen bottom lip. "there's tha' look. drivin' me bloody insane when you gave kyle tha' molten gaze. none o' tha' now, yeah?"

he creeps his ungloved hand down to circle your pearl with the spit-slick pads of his fingers, drawing in a sharp breath when your walls flutter and constrict around his cock at the feel of something other than your toy giving you the relief you need after a hard day's work.

"bloody fuckin' 'ell."

ghost claims a fistful of hair, pulling you closer to him, his breath warming the stinging, throbbing mark he bit onto the delicate skin of your neck. the shuffling of feet right outside the door snap you out of your daze, fingernails sinking into the bulging muscle of his chest but he has none of it.

he uses your hair to direct your focus back onto him and even though he'd only given you a leading tug you felt some strands of your hair come off with a pop.

"easy. can't see your pretty face when i'm fuckin' ya if your lookin' away."

your expression twists into what you hope is bliss when he bucks his hips, your whimper drowning out his groan when he hits on something new.

something you want him to keep hitting.

"exactly like i'd thought."

everything else blurs together after that, and only when you're back in your room using a warm cloth to clean yourself up do you remember the other things he'd rumbled.

(inside o' ya, make you mine-)

(-get 'bout bein' with anyone else-)

(-ll to myself-)

you touch your tender pussy with gentle fingers at what he'd said in the end.

(leave tha' f'me, he swipes your hand away, i'll get ya there, pet.)

if price's compliments take a nose dive off a cliff you don't notice because you're getting your daily fill of them and ghost after dinner every night. kyle keeps them to one word and soap likes to tempt fate as always.

[carry-on-my-wayward-butt]

imagine getting twenty four hours of a fraction of a taste of what marginalized bloggers on this fucking site have been told "doesn't break TOS" for the past 15 years and deciding to openly threaten to just nuke the entire website lmfao