#Human Space Interaction

[pickled-flowers]

Sex positivity is also about not calling Ace people prude and using virgin as an insult 👍 hope that helps

[buckyscap]

this part always gets me giggling kicking my feet twirling my hair. when wade kept asking about logan's suit saying he just wanted to bond, logan said "well then talk about something else"

he's practically showing us he's not against talking to wade at all, unlike how he wants us to believe by being so grumpy and telling him to stfu all the time.... that scene really got me going "aw he wants to bond? 🥺" in the theatre

[somerandomjewelleryonthefloor]

For the "humans are *insert word here*"/alien fandom:

What the fuck do you think aliens would do if-

Humans became fans of intergalactic alien stars like alien singers or very famous extraterrestrial people. And when they get in arguments, the humans doxx the alien they're arguing with online or whatever.

Humans finding the address, name, occupation, and brunch spot a person goes to- because that person hurt their fav intergalactic celebrity.

Imagine the chaos on alien news broadcasts when they say "humans have somehow found out how to easily identify any person online and how to access private information".

Wtf would aliens do? I mean definitely laws and regulations, but what else?

[triglycercule]

imagining this very funny totally amusing bit where dust (despite having a lot of pockets) makes horror carry a lighter for him (only because he can't be bothered to remember to bring one on him all the time) and horror keeps it in his head

but horror's a dick so everytime dust wants to smoke and he needs a light horror's always like "whats the password :3" (he actually said the emoticon i was the quotation marks) and dust has to guess. because horror changes it every time. and its never something predictable. and then he either just totally gives up on that cig or he has to forcefully dig into horror's head to get the lighter because horror's being a PRICK

now dust is shoulder deep into horror's eyesocket while horror is clawing and screaming and killer's just standing there behind them watching this unfold with that fuckass smile on his face (he can't get this type of entertainment anywhere else)

[ria-starstruck]

and also "putting everyone in a simulation will make it all ok 👍" and also "let's park next to this random system's sun" and also "we can't live on our own planet because of our own folly" and so on

[marshmellowtea]

honestly at this point i think we need to start calling out people who claim nonsexual kink doesn't exist or deride the idea of it for being acephobic because.......that's literally what they are lol. it's not hard to grasp the concept that people might enjoy the power dynamics or physical sensations associated with certain kinks without ever wanting the sexual component, and just because they don't want the sexual component doesn't mean that they believe their kinks are "sfw" or that they should think minors should be interacting with them in a kinky manner (in fact a lot of people who post nonsexual kink still have 18+ in their bio cuz they do in fact understand that nonsexual does not inherently mean safe for minors. crazy, i know).

[marlynnofmany]

Not Special, Part Two

(Part One is here)

Oscar Tennyson grabbed his purchases and hurried after the rest of his crew. As usual, they were walking quickly on their longer legs and bellowing for him to keep up. The teeth-and-scales Mighty had no patience for human weaknesses. Of which there were many.

But, as Oscar had just learned, there were some strengths as well. And he couldn’t wait to show them.

He scampered onboard before the door shut, wondering if they would actually leave without him if he dawdled too long. Probably not — who would handle their finances and hunting permits? They’d have to hire someone else, because they certainly didn’t want to do it themselves. But he didn’t want to test that.

He had much better things to test. While the stark metal walls vibrated with the engine’s revs, Oscar wove between scaled biceps and tails to his own quarters. He pressed the panel by the door, which was oversized and cracked like all of them on this ship. The Mighty were not fans of fiddly little buttons or keys. Not when they could have panels big enough to punch, which only broke sometimes.

When Oscar stepped through and closed the door behind him, he felt immediately relieved. This was his private space to decorate as he chose, without worrying that someone would take things down or make fun of him. Ship rules were clear about personal quarters. Oscar’s fake orchids and real cactus made the room homey, along with more posters than the walls could hold. They spilled onto the ceiling, lining it with nature scenes from Earth, sports figures he admired, media announcements, and a good number of fluffy kittens. This was the one spot on the ship where he could feel comfortable, and he was making the most of it.

The bag of refueling station supplies crinkled as he set it on his small table to remove the contents. A high-end store might have had Waterwill bags that evaporated after a day, but this place used regular old plastic. Inside were food cubes, bottled water, and the purchase he was most excited about: six cans of very weak caffeine.

He scanned the label. It was just like the other human had said. Tall cans in dramatic colors, but not much of substance inside. At least, not as far as the average human was concerned.

Oscar couldn’t wait until dinner time.

Before then, he had a permit to submit and several other things to check. The ship should be on the way to Argosha, which was notorious for welcoming outsiders in to hunt the Dagger Birds that were giving everyone so much trouble, but he had better get their paperwork in order anyway.

He grabbed his tablet and left his safe haven, heading back into the public parts of the ship where he could face taunts from any direction. Really, these guys were just like his cousins. At least it was familiar.

Fending off tiresome conversation — “How’s the weather down there?” “Why don’t you ask your mother?” —he reached the bridge and found a corner to stand in. The captain and the pilot were arguing about where to land when they reached Argosha.

“The main site will have more people to admire our ship!”

“The new one is closer to the hunting grounds!”

“Dagger Birds are overrunning the place; everywhere is a hunting ground!”

“Do you want to pay the damages for shooting a building instead of a bird? We can take it all out of your pay, if you want!”

“Fine, but if we land on some overgrown hedge and the ship is scratched, you get to pay for that!”

“Fine!”

The pair of them stopped yelling and sat back in their seats as if nothing at all was the matter, because it wasn’t. Polite disagreements were always held at that volume.

In the brief lull while the pilot manipulated the controls with more force than a lesser console could withstand, Oscar spoke up. “I’d like to come too.”

Both dinosaurian heads turned to stare at him in surprise. “Why?” the captain demanded. “One kick from a bird, and you’re useless to us.”

“Thanks,” Oscar said flatly. “I’ll keep out of the way. I want to take photos of your fighting prowess; I should be able to sell them.”

Both of the Mighty preened at that, as he’d known they would. Ego was big here. The captain agreed, and Oscar didn’t let slip any hints of his secret plan. He just finished working on his tablet, then retreated to his quarters to practice Dagger Bird mating calls.

The air on Argosha was breathable but hot, at least this part of it. Oscar was ready with his Tool in his pocket. (He’d gotten out of the habit of calling it a phone, since the Mighty were right in that it did a near-infinite number of things.) (He still smirked quietly at the potential innuendo, but it was a conversation he didn’t really want to have with giant dinosaur aliens, so he kept that to himself.)

“This way,” announced the captain, pointing in what looked like an arbitrary direction into the wilderness. Whooping with the alien equivalent of testosterone, the crew raised their blasters and tromped off the landing pad with Oscar following close behind.

True to his word, he did take some pictures as he went. But he was waiting for his moment.

It didn’t take long to come. The shouting scared off all the wildlife, then the Mighty found a boulder to crouch behind and wait for the creatures to come back. They played a silent counting game to see who was best at guessing when they’d spot something worth killing.

Distant footsteps on leaves made them smack each other in excitement, but nothing appeared between the trees.

Now or never, Oscar thought. Knowing better than to startled his crewmates, he whispered, “Here, let me.” Then he took a deep breath and let loose with his best imitation of a Dagger Bird seeking a mate. “Woarrrrrrk!”

While the Mighty shushed him and wondered what he was doing and started to figure it out, an answering woarrk sounded from nearby.

Then another, then, three.

Oscar wondered if he’d overplayed his hand.

No less than five large and eager Dagger Birds crashed through the undergrowth at once, croaking and flapping, taking offense at each other’s presence. The Mighty all roared and leapt out, firing in every direction.

Oscar dashed for a tree he’d been eyeing, the one with lots of branches, and didn’t stop climbing until he was out of beak-stabbing range. He held tight to the trunk, catching his breath and watching the chaos. Belatedly, he remembered to take out his Tool and snap some photos.

This was actually a good angle. He got a great shot of the captain aiming down the throat of a wide-open beak, then another a split second later when the beak snapped shut inches from his head. Another of the engineer shooting one from beneath. Two of the pilot tackling the largest bird and sinking teeth into the back of its neck where it couldn’t reach to stab.

Other species did their trophy hunting from a distance. The Mighty liked the fight as much as the kill. Their blasters were set on a deliberately low setting, and their teeth were sharp.

Safe up in his tree, Oscar grimaced at how bloody things were getting down below. He yelled another bird call to distract the one about to spear the crewmate who’d been knocked to the ground, and he got a cheerful “Nice save by the little guy!” which was as close to a thank you as he was going to get. The crewmate scrambled up and bit off a chunk while the bird was distracted. A couple of the crew looked like they were bleeding their own blood, but most of it was coming from the Dagger Birds, which were just as stubborn as the stories had said. Not one of them ran off. The last to die fell on top of somebody, which just added laughter from the rest of the crew to the triumphant cheers.

Oscar took a picture of the bird being dragged off his disgraced crewmate. That photo he wouldn’t sell, but would keep as minor blackmail if he ever needed it. Sticking it up on the wall to remind everyone of this moment could be a valuable strategic move.

“We are the MIGHTY!” bellowed the captain, and the whole crew joined in with a deep-voiced cheer. Oscar climbed down to more approval than he’d gotten in the last month.

“Good work by our human here! Who knew you could do that?”

“That’s sure an efficient way to hunt!”

“We should bring you out every time. That was great.”

Oscar took the praise with pride, not bothering with modesty. That was just another word for weakness as far as these guys were concerned.

He managed to dodge when one of them made to slap him on the back with a large bloodstained hand, which just made them laugh more. Luckily the captain directed everybody to gather their kills for dragging back to the ship, rather than chasing the human and messing up his clothes.

Oscar took a position on the lowest branch of his tree, taking a couple more photos as the victorious hunters figured out how to get it all home. If anyone had asked Oscar, which they never would, he’d have suggested going back for a hovercart, or taking them one at a time. But of course they did neither.

Definitely the type to insist on carrying all the groceries in at once, Oscar thought as his crewmates strained to drag the giant carcasses through the undergrowth. He hopped down and kept pace out to the side where there was no blood on the leaves.

They finally made it back to the ship, doing nothing to clean up the smears of blood they left on the landing pad. Oscar darted off to his quarters as soon as the door opened. The rest of them could handle getting the birds into cryo storage, or chopped up right away, whichever they saw fit to do. The lowest-ranking one without significant injuries would be in charge of clearing the blood from the hallways, but only after they’d all taken a walk through the water-and-air blast chamber that passed for a shower here. It had always reminded Oscar of a car wash.

He kept to himself until dinner, sorting his photos while everyone else dealt with the catch and the mess and the injuries. The mechanical medsystem on this ship was just as efficient as the shower. They’d all be in decent shape by mealtime.

And mealtime after a successful hunt was also drinking time.

Oscar usually ate in his room, wanting nothing to do with the raucous meat-tearing and drunkenness. But today was different, because he’d learned something valuable about the liquid they were getting drunk off.

Oscar considered the cans he’d bought, then decided it would have more of an impact if he just took one of the communal supply. So instead he grabbed his new food cubes and a premade tin of spaghetti from his mini-cryo, and followed the sound of laughter.

They were already a little drunk when he got there. Sprawled across chairs with a table full of meat slabs spilling over the edges of the plates. And as expected, there were tall purple cans everywhere.

“Heyyyy, it’s the little guy! Let’s hear it for the human with the surprise talent! Maybe you’re not useless after all!”

“Thanks,” Oscar said as they pounded fists against anything in reach as a form of applause. He leaned against the open doorway and shuffled his belongings so he could get a fork in a meatball without setting down the food cubes. “That was pretty easy where I’m from. You guys really can’t do that?” He popped the meatball into his mouth, casual as you please.

The Mighty of course, thought this was funny, and took it in stride. More gulps from their drinks, more savage mouthfuls of food, and a few questions about the surely-excellent photos he’d gotten, which would make them all look amazing.

Oscar said he’d share the best ones. These would make fine decorations in their own quarters, and would probably be appreciated by the right paying audience.

Then came the moment he’d been waiting for. The captain raised his drink in another cheer, and somebody noticed that the human was the only one without a can in his hand.

“Get the human a warrior’s drink!”

“Bet you he passes out after one sip.”

“Nah, he can take at least two.”

Oscar smiled quietly. If they’d been paying attention, they might have changed their bets at that smile. He set his food down in the hallway to free his hands. When one muscular, taloned arm offered him a can of their most potent intoxicant, he took it. Oh so casually.

Then he whipped his head back and chugged the whole thing.

“Oh! Human’s gonna die!”

“I’m not cleaning up the puke!”

“What the supernova! There are better ways to go than that!”

“Somebody drag him to medical so we don’t have to find somebody else to do the boring stuff.”

“Yeah, he was just getting interesting.”

Oscar ignored all of them, giving the empty can a thoughtful look. It felt like the same thin aluminum he remembered from Earth. And if there was anything his cousins had taught him, it was the proper way to dispose of a beer can.

He dug his fingertips in and crushed it against his forehead. Then while the room reacted to that, he wiped off the drips and threw the can across the room. When it went into the trash on the first try, he was internally very glad, but he didn’t let it show. Instead he picked up his food and resumed eating. “What’s the big deal?” he said. “Is that what you guys have been getting drunk off? How quaint.”

“How in all the black holes—”

“No, he’s gonna fall over any second; just watch.”

“Quaint, that’s hilarious.”

“He’s totally bluffing. Just wait and see.”

Oscar was enjoying being the center of the crew’s attention today. He made a show of sweeping his eyes across the various cans in the room. “None of you has finished a can yet, I see. Was that supposed to be strong?”

There was widespread laughing and elbowing of each other, most of them still clearly convinced that the silly little human was going to throw up and die any second now.

So Oscar set down his food, walked over to the table, and chugged a second one. It was a bit more liquid than his stomach was really happy with, but that was a small price to pay for the uproar that followed.

They exclaimed; they renewed their bets; they drank from their own cans; they got visibly drunker and abandoned their bets.

Oscar leaned against the doorframe, eating spaghetti and food cubes.

After one particularly unsteady crewmate tripped onto the table full of meat, and someone pointed out that the human wasn’t wobbling at all, Oscar said, “You guys don’t know much about my species, do you? Half of what I eat would liquify your insides.” He held up a food cube, eyeing the different colored specks of all the ingredients that made it balanced for an omnivorous digestive system. He laughed. “You guys just eat meat. How boring!”

They only got drunker after that. Oscar was pretty sure that the nearest two wanted to pat him on the back, but the floor was moving too much for them to make it all the way to the doorway. Somebody offered him a raw slab of Dagger Bird. He turned it down with casual scorn.

“Nah, meat isn’t worth eating unless it’s passed through fire. That’s weakling meat you’ve got there. Get back to me when it’s cooked brown.”

They loved that. The party was an epic one, only winding down when most of the crew was too drunk to reach more drinks. Oscar demonstrated his steadiness by picking through the mess to drop his food containers in the trash, then move back to the door.

“Well, it’s been fun,” he said. “I’ll send in the med-drone to make sure nobody’s going to wake up dead. Let me know if you want to get your tails handed to you by any more Dagger Birds. I’ll call ‘em in close for you again.”

He got groggy approval to that.

Oscar left with a smile on his face, and a mild amount of caffeine in his blood. Maybe after stopping by the medcenter, he’d use that energy on some exercise. Thoughts of the run to the hunting grounds, and the way his crewmates had paced themselves, suggested that it wouldn’t take much practice for him to out-endurance the Mighty on the VR treadmill.

I wonder what else I can do?

~~~~~~~~~

By popular request, this is the sequel to the story I posted last week, which is part of the ongoing series of backstory for the main character in this book. (It started that way, at any rate, and turned into a sprawling series in its own right. Fun stuff.)

Patreon opens the day after tomorrow, on May 1st! There's a free tier and everything if you want to keep up without strings attached! And you can even request more delightful nonsense like this.

Onward!

[chaikachi]

Gentle reminder that I am a real human person on the other side of this icon.

I am always grateful for support and conversation around the art that I share!!! But within moderation. Please try not to spam on my posts or comment the same things on one piece across multiple platforms. Sharing your thoughts/appreciation on one social will suffice.

Also please be mindful of the types of comments you're sharing in general. I am not the "CEO" or "Queen of RG" and I don't claim to be. It is honestly pretty alienating being treated that way - for myself and other RG creators - esp in a fan community that is as small and inactive as this one is these days.

This isn't directed at any one specific person as this has come from a few different sources over the years. Just wanted to post something about it because boundaries are important.

Thank you for understanding <3

[stubz]

Fenrir smiled as he watched his little love work. He came to surprise her with a dinner date after work but it seemed like there a few stragglers left. Not that Kim or the children minded too much, the little children giggled as they ran from a playfully roaring Kim.

Glyka he has had the honor of meeting before, the youngling truly lived up to his name for he was sweetness itself. Sasha and Rubi on the other hand were new so he had not yet been properly introduced.

"Run Sasha! Run or she'll get you!"

"Yesh!"

The little children ran as fast as they could, well as fast as Sasha could, Glyka and Rubi didn't want to leave their friend behind for the 'monster' to get. Just as any good warriors should do!

"Ra! I'll gobble you up-oh shoot!" Fenrir winced as he watched his little love slip on a stray toy and tumble backwards.

"I'm okay! Just uh, gonna take a moment. Friggin Legos..."

"Quick let's hide."

"Yesh." "Ye."

As far as Fenrir could tell, the two little humans were still learning how to speak. Which was surprising as they looked to be about 4 years old...he thinks. Human children are so much smaller than orc children so it's hard for Fenrir to accurately guess ages.

For the most part the two rarely said a word other than the handful that they could confidently say like 'ye(sh)' which was yes and 'no' which was obviously no. Despite this, Kim and Max managed just fine as did the other children. Never were the two excluded from games, always asked yes or no questions, they were treated like everyone else by both the younglings and teachers.

Said little children scurry over towards where Fenrir sits on the ground and hide behind him. The orc's massive frame easily hiding the three of them.

"Mister Fenrir, can we hide here?" Glyka whispered.

"Yes you may Glyka, actually, hold on." Taking out his folded up cloak, the orc puts it on and drapes it over the children behind him. "Stay still and Ki-Miss Kim won't find you." he shuffled to make sure everyone was covered.

"Thank you."

"Merci."

"Cпасибо."

"...Вы говорите на моем языке?" he peered under his cloak the children. "Je ne pensais pas qu'on enseignait la langue de la noblesse orque ici." he spoke to Rubi.

For a moment no one spoke until Sasha and Rubi began speaking non-stop at the same time.

"Vous parlez français!" the little girl beamed.

"Вы говорите по-русски!" the little boy giggled.

"Athea peut-elle venir à mon anniversaire?"

"Вы можете поднять машину?"

"Uh, wait, по очереди. Soulever une voiture?"

"You speak French and Russian?"

Finally Kim had gotten up from the floor and came to investigate the blanket orc fort.

"French and Russian? But this is orcish, Sasha speaks the common tongue and Rubi speaks the nobility tongue."

"Oh that's so cool! Are you sure our species never had contact with the other before? Cause French and Russian are the official languages in the countries they're from. Rubi is French and Sasha is Russian, they're still learning English."

"...I thought they just couldn't speak yet. I thought they might be toddlers still." he examined the two, lifting them up to his eye level. The children giggled and spoke to him in their respective languages.

"No hon," she laughed. "they're 4 years old. They just need to spend more time with the others and then they'll be talking in no time...but it seems like I'll be roping in Athea and the others to spend more time with them now. Do they also speak the nobility tongue?"

"Yes, titles mean little now but the language is still taught. Athea and the others would be happy to spend more time with Rubi and Sasha. I imagine they'll be quite happy to speak in our native tongue more with friends." he smiles.

.

When the children were picked up Sasha and Rubi eagerly dragged their respective parent to Fenrir. Kim fought back a laugh at the wide eyed looks on the moms when seeing the 8 foot tall orc speak fluent French and Russian.

Talk was made, numbers were exchanged, calls on speaker phone done, and now Athea is attending Rubi's birthday as her friend and as Sasha and Glyka's translator. The boys were already invited but this will make things easier for everyone, specifically the parents.

While Fenrir and Kim left for their late dinner date a thought came onto him.

"You don't speak French or Russian. Nor does Max."

"Yep, although he's learning Spanish and Japanese."

"But...how did you communicate so perfectly with them then? Not only the language barrier but they also just rarely spoke the few words they know."

"Body language and gut feeling. We have translators for human languages but most of them only work if you can type what you want to say meaning children their age can't use them. So me and Max mainly have to rely solely on body language sometimes feeling."

"I guess when you live in a world with thousands of languages you need to."

"Yep. Sometimes I wish we only had like 5, I could learn 5 languages."

"I like your diverse world though. So many cultures and stories. Each one unique and wonderful. Just like you." he grins leaning down to kiss the top of Kim's head.

"...well...I don't actually wish that. Specially now." she smiles.

[delimeful]

I was wondering, do you ever play around in any of the worlds you've created without planning to write a story about it? Like imagining what-ifs or imagining if you were in that world? I've been really into the humans are space orcs stories lately and I have certain fantasies in those worlds I've been daydreaming for the past months. But even when I imagine a completely different backstory for them, I recently realized I usually imagine the races you described in WIBAR and YCGB and other alien fics. Still daydream of sanders sides characters a lot and now Ampen and Ulgorii just live in my brain as character concepts lol

it's hard to say that i play around without planning to write about it, because most of the time, if i roll an idea or concept for a story around in my head for long enough, i inevitably end up wanting to put it to words properly :'D but i certainly do like to imagine or daydream about my worlds so often that there's plenty that doesn't make it to my published stories

for "what-ifs" i even have a folder that's mostly a collection of spin offs/alternate POVs of some of my AUs! here's the placeholder titles of a handful of them, ranging from extreme silly to extreme angst lol

when it comes to humans are space orcs stories, i do love to play around with the setting + characters i already have (as my biggest universe, wibar has SO MANY of the aforementioned spin off/AU ideas) but i also love to come up with new alien designs + fun ways the designs can be juxtaposed with human deathworlder stuff, so i often end up branching out and making something new! i'm flattered that my designs have joined your imaginings though :D

as for lime in the wibar-verse... i've speculated on it a few times, and atm i think my wibarsona would probably be not a human, but a crav'on! spiky lime :) i have seen some very cute art/writing/speculation with other people's self inserts, mostly as humans, and i think it's so fun that others are playing in my sandbox too! ^_^

[moeblob]

They're soulmates in every single universe and I miss them at the most random times.

[natsuki-bakery]

⁎˚ ఎ Markus care giver headcanons ໒ ˚⁎

hello!! could i request some headcanons for caregiver!markus for dbh? im unsure if you write for him so if u dont its ok!! thank you, and have a good timezone <3

•Markus tends to care for littles who are around 6 to 10 years old. He finds that age range particularly endearing and enjoys nurturing their innocence !

•Markus likes to be called : Dada Markie or Papa

•He takes care mainly of North, Josh and Simon, and maybe, Leo ?

•Markus has a naturally calming presence, which helps his littles feel safe and secure. He often uses gentle words and gestures to reassure them during moments of distress or anxiety

•Markus enjoys engaging his littles in creative activities like drawing, painting, or crafting. He finds that these activities not only stimulate their imagination !

•One of Markus's favorite activities is reading bedtime stories to his littles. He enjoys selecting a variety of books that cater to their interests and encourages them to explore new worlds through literature

•Markus creates a safe and welcoming environment for his Littles, where they feel free to express them without judgement !

•Music Therapy: He incorporates music into his caregiving routine, using it as a therapeutic tool to soothe his littles. He often plays gentle melodies on the piano or sings lullabies to help them relax and unwind

•Dada Markie enjoys involving his Littles in the cooking process, teaching them simple recipes and culinary skills along the way !

•Markus loves to cook homemade meals for his littles, filling the house with the aroma of freshly prepared dishes

•He believes in the importance of routine and structure for his Littles. He establishes consistent daily routines that provide a sense of stability and predictability, helping them feel secure and grounded.

•Would call them : sweetheart, sunshine, champion, treasure and little one

•Above all, Markus's love for his littles is unconditional. He cares for them deeply and is always there to offer comfort, guidance, and support whenever they need it !!

[somerandomjewelleryonthefloor]

For the ‘Humans are *insert word* here/alien fans fanclub’, I have another small headcanon:

I feel like most aliens (from aliens that travel planets, to aliens that are the embodiment of a nightmare, to aliens that are small and fuzzy),

would absolutely love David Attenborough. I mean they probably found out about Earth’s animals and how they live and stuff from watching his documentaries, because one human on a crewship put it on to help them fall asleep.

David Attenborough would be adored by all the cosmos I think.

[widowshill]

the people aren't ready to hear this but angelique arbitrarily picking quentin to decide to be in love with out of nowhere, bewitching roger into marriage and then absolutely not wanting him to touch her, and constantly pursuing men's (chiefly barn's) attention only when it's clear he doesn't want her, is soooo comp het of her.

[hilacopter]

torn between not being able to trust goyim to not be antisemitc anymore unless they really prove me otherwise and going "I guess we'll get along" when they find out I'm Israeli and still treat me like a human being

[burinazar]

Birthday Completed.. Am Thirtey Twoe