#IT WAS YESTERDAY.. what the FUCK..

[angel-casefiles]

OH FUCK WE TOTALLY MISSED OUR SYSCOVERY ANNIVERSARY

[valtsv]

are we still doing this because i have a late submission

[cherrywhite]

hey silt verses? I just want to talk

[spitefullyjewish]

Okay, this is my third time trying to put this into words. I am very upset, hurt, and honestly terrified. I’m about to share a lot about myself, my family, and a very scary situation happening right now, so for my own safety, I won’t provide too many details.

I live in a secondary city in a South American country. The Jewish community here is very small—around 5,000 people total out of over 50 million. In my city, which has over 3 million people, there are only about 300 Jews. We’re literally on the other side of the world from Israel.

We own a family business, a small clothing factory where we make knitted garments. It was founded by my grandmother 48 years ago. My father is the current manager, and both my sister and I work there. We employ around 80 people. We pay fair and legal wages (not the industry standard in my country), and although times are really hard, we’ve never missed a payment, not once in our 48 years in business. My father paused his own salary and hasn’t received a cent since January, and my sister and I both stopped getting paid for three months. But the people who work with us have always received their salaries as they should.

Now, today, September 30th, (just a couple of days before the start of our high holidays and exactly one week before the first anniversary of October 7th) the biggest and most important public university in my city, in conjunction with the syndicate council, invited the Palestinian ambassador to give a conference about the current situation and the war. Well, apparently, it derailed into open antisemitism and ended up as a conference about how Jews are all thieves and scammers. Because, I kid you not, back in the '90s, a huge group of my country’s biggest companies went bankrupt and couldn’t pay their employees what they owed. One out of about 30 of those companies was owned by Jewish people. So, of course, "we Jews are all liars, scammers, and thieves, just like the Israelis—always trying to take what doesn’t belong to us"

So, what conclusion did they reach at this conference about Palestine and the current war happening on the other side of the world? Well, naturally, they decided to target Jewish-owned businesses in my city (which means our factory and two other small businesses in our area) to protest and vandalize, because we’re all thieves and scammers, and Israel is bad and horrible, and everyone in my city needs to be made aware of that. When are they planning to come? October 7th, of course, when else?

The only reason I even know about this is that one of my Jewish friends decided to attend the conference to hear from the Palestinian ambassador and, risking their own safety, stayed to hear the names of the businesses that are going to be targeted.

I'm hurt and scared and I've been trying not to cry since I found out. These are the people on the left, these we were supposed to be my people, I've marched with them, I've worked and voted with them. I don't know what to do? Please, please tell me how are they different from actual Nazis? How is this situation different from any other jew living in Europe in the 1930's? I guess shannah fucking tovah to me, as if last year wasn't a wake up call. I am fucking awake.

[squuote]

this was meant for an ask my friend sent about what if stanley wasn't actually stanley's name but tumblr DELETED IT and now i am pissed take this comic from my hands NEOW

[rendevok]

“Take my hand” pages 5-11

1 - day 2 - truth - 3

[wikiangela]

It's a quiet evening, they're winding down after a long, exhausting day of work, just enjoying each other's company. They're on the couch, a cheesy romcom playing on the TV, Tommy's head in Buck's lap, Buck's fingers playing with Tommy's soft curls.

He's watching Tommy more than the movie. He observes his reactions, the soft smiles, the small chuckles, the eye rolls and scoffs - depending on what's happening on the screen. He's so beautiful and Buck wants to stare at him forever. And he gets to.

He beams, as he glances at his hand, still in Tommy's hair, where a simple silver band sits right on his ring finger, an exact match to the one on Tommy's hand, now casually resting on his stomach. Well, almost an exact match, the inscription on the inside just a little bit different - they both say their wedding date and the word 'forever' but they also have each other's names inscribed. Buck likes to take if off sometimes and just look at the words, trace his fingertip over Tommy's name, still amazed that this is his life, even after over a year of being married already.

So he observes his husband, eyes scanning all over, while Tommy's completely immersed in the movie, the romantic dork - Buck loves that he's the only one who truly gets to see this side of him. He's so cute and gorgeous, and Buck loves him so much and just can't take his eyes off him.

That's when he notices it, and a gasp breaks out of him. He can feel a huge grin pulling at his face.

"What's wrong?" Tommy immediately looks at him, a small concerned frown creasing his forehead. When he notices Buck smiling, worry turns into pure confusion. "Evan?"

"Baby." Buck says seriously, his fingers gripping a strand of Tommy's hair, as he announces happily, "You have your first gray hair." He's looking right at it, just a tiny, barely noticeable, silvery hair. It's there, and it looks beautiful, and Buck already kind of can't wait to see his husband get more of them.

"Okay?" Tommy's frown deepens, this time with amusement. "So?"

"So-" Buck starts, then shakes his head. It's stupid, it's just a hair, no big deal, everyone gets them eventually, it's nothing special. But in a way, it is. Because when they met a few years ago Tommy didn't have gray hair. Because in their line of work, and with their luck, with Buck's luck, seeing yourself or a person you love grow old is not always a given - and it's such a blessing. This, seeing a gray hair in Tommy's hair, combined with wrinkles starting to form on his beautiful face - it's an amazing sight. They're sharing a life together, growing older together, they're able to see each other go through all these changes, step by step, day by day, seemingly unnoticeable unless you pay particular attention. It makes Buck feel so grateful for this life he has, for his husband, for getting this chance. "Nothing," he says, fingers resuming combing through Tommy's thick curls, eyes still drawn to that lone gray hair. "I just love you."

"I love you, too, Evan." Tommy smiles that crinkly smile that makes the lines around his eyes even more pronounced. Buck has to lean down and kiss his lips, then the corner of his eye, making Tommy laugh. "What's that have anything to do with my gray hair?"

"I just really like the thought of getting to grow old with you. Of spending my life with you." Buck whispers, and sees Tommy's smile melt into that soft 'Evan' smile, reserved just for him.

"And you say I'm sappy," he responds teasingly, and Buck laughs. Oh, he loves Tommy so much. He looks into Tommy's eyes and sees everything he was just thinking about. He sees how Tommy wants the same things, how he appreciate those reminders, like a silly gray hair, of getting to go through life together.

He kind of can't wait to start going gray, too. To grow old with his husband.

[journal-from-the-heart]

i think, for trauma survivors, especially those who were emotionally abused, invalidated, or gaslit, it is really important not to underestimate the significance of speaking bluntly about what happened to you. Forcing yourself not to beat around the bush, not to downplay what you went through with your words. say what happened, without any caveats, without any “but it could’ve been worse”, “but i might just be being overdramatic”, “but it wasn’t really THAT bad,” and so forth. sit with the discomfort until you can begin to let yourself realize that it WAS that bad, you WERENT being overdramatic, and even if it could’ve been worse you still didn’t deserve it. It’s almost like a form of reclamation, taking back your memories, taking back your life, even the difficult or gross parts, and refusing to let anyone change the narrative or tell you how you should feel anymore, even yourself. and it hurts and it’s scary and it feels weird and awkward and sometimes you want to convince yourself you’re lying, but i think sitting in those weird feelings and letting yourself admit that you really did go through trauma puts the power back in your hands to process things and be compassionate to yourself while you heal

[crybaby-bkg]

Bakugou has never cared much about whether or not his partner is experienced, or less experienced. Never had much of a kink or fetish when it came down to how much sexual experience someone had, but—there’s just something about you. You with your unsure lip biting and lowered eyes, your twisting hands and nervous little chuckles.

“I don’t really know how to kiss,” you share with him, a secret, a whisper passed from your hovering mouth to his own. It’s been an odd some amount of dates you two have been on by now, and this time you went back to his apartment afterwards. You sit on your knees beside him on his too big couch, his legs facing you, arm around your waist, yours around his shoulders.

“Really?” Bakugou asks, doesn’t mean to sound as teasing as he does, as breathless. But, he’s surprised more than anything—you, as sinfully seductive as you are, don’t know how to kiss someone? He leans back to take you all in, a tiny little smile lilting the corners of his mouth.

“No, not really,” you murmur, running a hand through the hair on his nape, eyes bouncing all over his face, yet avoiding his eyes. “Will you teach me?” You ask, and who is Bakugou if not a weak man?

So he shows you the proper way to kiss somebody, a hands on demonstration. He pulls you in real close, guides your head to tilt to the right, purse your lips like this, run your tongue over his like that. Now suck on it, let out all the pretty sounds if it feels good, kiss him just like that. And before you know it, you’re a pro.

The next time you see him, you ask him the proper way to give someone a hickey. I don’t wanna give you a blood clot, you had laughed, sitting on his lap this time. And Bakugou, ever the great teacher that he is, shows you how. Demonstrating on your neck, your collarbone, your tummy, your inner thigh, the curve of your ass. You don’t give him nearly as many hickeys as he gives you, but the big purpled one sitting over his pulse point, he wears proudly until it fades. And after that, he’s asking for another, and another.

And after a few months into your relationship, do things finally start getting real hot and heavy. He sits at the island in his place, tired, arms folded, back leaning against the island and his head lolled over on his shoulders. He’s surprised when you sink to your knees in front of him, all doe eyed and incubus smile, hands resting on his thighs.

“Can you show me how?” You don’t even have to specify what you’re talking about, but you eye the way his cock already jumps to attention under his shorts. If this were anyone else, he’d bat them away and tell them that he didn’t feel like playing teacher. But with you—he’d gladly show you any and everything your heart has ever yearned to know.

“Breathe through your nose, baby.” He instructs you, hand gathering your hair in his fists. Your mouth stretches wide around his cock, eyes watering, but you push through it all. He tells you to wrap your lips around your teeth, to swallow whenever his tip brushes the back of your throat. Shows you how to stroke whatever you can’t reach, rub his balls in your palm whenever he starts getting close.

He doesn’t have to teach you how to swallow.

When you ride Bakugou for the first time, you don’t even have to ask for instructions. Just give him that look, all pouty and pitiful, hands on his chest as you grind against his cock resting against your lower belly. Barely any words are spoken as he guides you, lifts your hips, teases his tip against your hole, stomach fluttering in anticipation.

After that, you feel like a pro when it comes to doing anything with Bakugou. But, he doesn’t mind playing teacher whenever you need a little bit of guidance.

[mattodore]

birthday boy 🎂

[rainofthetwilight]

just a quick reminder that if POC and black people look 'bad' in your artstyle, then your artstyle just fucking sucks. (and you also might be racist but anyway)

[cuntylestat]

[id0ntwantyourbloodmoney]

RIP Edgar you wouldve loved Kaomojis

RIP Edgar you wouldve loved the trend of people decorating their computers with stickers

RIP Edgar you wouldve loved Soap Operas

RIP Edgar you wouldve loved binging dating shows with weird quirks

RIP Edgar you wouldve loved the existence of Objectums

RIP Edgar you wouldve lov

[ouroborosorder]

I JUST TOLD MY THERAPIST ABOUT MOMOKA KAWARAGI AND THEN WHEN I EXPLAINED WHY THIS CHARACTER MEANS A LOT TO ME SHE LITERALLY SAID THE WORDS "Wow, so. This character is almost exactly like you, even in terms of flaws. Everything you just said about her is exactly how I would describe you." I'M FUCKING DONE. IT'S OVER. I GOT KINASSIGNED BY MY THERAPIST.

[asterlark]

me and den @unloneliest were just talking about murderbot and ART's relationship and i want to discuss how they quite literally complete each other's sensory and emotional experience of the world!!

there's a few great posts on here such as this one about how murderbot uses drones to fully and properly experience the world around it (it also accesses security cameras/other systems for this same purpose). but i haven't seen anyone so far talk about how once MB stops working for the company and consequently doesn't have a hubsystem/secsystem to connect to anymore (which for its entire existence up to that point had been how it was used to interacting with its environment/doing its job), after it meets ART, ART starts to fill that gap.

ART gives MB access to more cameras, systems, and information archives than it would normally be able to connect with while MB is on its own outside of ART's... body(? lol), but also directly gives MB access to its own cameras, drones, archives, facilities, and processing space. additionally, so much of ART's function is dedicated to analysis, lateral thinking, and logical reasoning, and it not only uses those skills in service of reaching murderbot's goals, it teaches murderbot how to use those same skills. (ART might be a bit of an asshole about how it does this, but that doesn't negate just how much it does for murderbot for no reason other than it's bored/interested in MB as an individual.)

we all love goofing about how artificial condition can basically be boiled down to "two robots in a trench coat trying to get through a job interview" (which is entirely accurate tbh) but that's also such a great example of ART fulfilling the role of both murderbot's "hubsystem" and "secsystem", allowing it to fully experience its environment/ succeed in its goals. ART provides MB with crucial information, context, and constructive criticism, and uses its significant processing power to act as MB's backup and support system while they work together.

from ART's side of things, we get a very explicit explanation of how it needs the context of murderbot's emotional reactions to media in order to fully understand and experience the media as intended. it tried to watch media with its humans, and it didn't completely understand just by studying their reactions. but when it's in a feed connection with murderbot, who isn't human but has human neural tissue, ART is finally able to thoroughly process the emotional aspects of media (side note, once it actually understands the emotional stakes in a way that makes sense for it, it's so frightened by the possibility of the fictional ship/crew in worldhoppers being catastrophically injured or killed that it makes murderbot pause for a significant amount of time before it feels prepared to go on. like!! ART really fucking loves its crew, that is all).

looking at things further from ART's perspective: its relationship with murderbot is ostensibly the very first relationship it's been able to establish with not only someone outside of its crew, but also with any construct at all. while ART loves its crew very much (see previous point re: being so so scared for the fate of the fictional crew of worldhoppers), it never had a choice in forming relationships with them. it was quite literally programmed to build those relationships with its crew and students. ART loves its function, its job, and nearly all of the humans that spend time inside of it, but its relationship with murderbot is the first time it's able to choose to make a new friend. that new friend is also someone who, due to its partial machine intelligence, is able to understand and know ART on a whole other level of intimacy that humans simply aren't capable of. (that part goes for murderbot, too, obviously; ART is its first actual friend outside of the presaux team, and its first bot friend ever.)

and because murderbot is murderbot, and not a "nice/polite to ART most of the time" human, this is also one of the first times that ART gets real feedback from a friend about the ways that its actions impact others. after the whole situation in network effect, when the truth of the kidnapping comes to light and murderbot hides in the bathroom refusing to talk to ART (and admittedly ART doesn't handle this well lol) - ART is forced to confront that despite it making the only call it felt able to make in that horrifying situation, despite it thinking that that was the right call, its actions hurt murderbot, and several other humans were caught in the crossfire. what's most scary to ART in that moment is the idea that murderbot might never forgive it, might never want to talk to it again. it's already so attached to this friendship, so concerned with murderbot's wellbeing, that the thought of that friendship being over because of its own behavior is terrifying. (to me, this almost mirrors murderbot's complete emotional collapse when it thinks that ART has been killed. the other more overt mirror is ART fully intending on bombing the colony to get murderbot back.)

in den's words, they both increase the other's capacity to feel: ART by acting as a part of murderbot's sensory system, and murderbot by acting as a means by which ART can access emotion. they love one another so much they would do pretty much anything to keep each other safe/avenge each other, but what's more, they unequivocally make each other more whole.

[allmightyscroll-swag]

The green. Goes well with the orange. Harry's green blazer. Kim's orange jacket

They go well together