#Tank Event

[bacchuschucklefuck]

they tried to rebrand as The Criminals but riz is literally the city council's treasurer and also turns out people in their late 20s don't really name their friend groups. so now they're The Intrepid Heroes

[wearenotjustnumbers2]

Even CNN is reporting the truth more now. But if you are held without being charged, you aren’t a prisoner, you’ve been kidnapped and are a HOSTAGE. And human rights organizations have said that the other 50%, who were charged, were mainly charged with throwing rocks, and that even most of that was made up.

For all the pro israel who came to my posts of Palestinian children celebrating their freedom, calling them terrorists and criminals. Israel is an occupation state, they don't need a reason to arrest you as long as you're Palestinian.

[scealaiscoite]

.☽༊˚ prompts for helping bathe an injured loved one

¹⁾ sitting on the edge of the bathtub and letting them lay their head against your thigh as the fatigue starts taking hold

²⁾ “i know, i know it hurts but hold on for just a little longer and we’re done, yeah? think you can do that for me, pet?”

³⁾ helping them lean up so you can wash their back, and pretending not to notice them shaking in your arms

⁴⁾ “you needn’t be so gentle, y’know. if today wasn’t enough to break me, i doubt an ill-applied handful of shampoo will.”

⁵⁾ using your soapstuffs because the familiar scent will, hopefully, help calm them

⁶⁾ “i can’t believe it took a night like that for you to let me help you with something.”

⁷⁾ having never seen them in a state of undress before and so, trying admirably hard to avoid looking directly at them in such a vulnerable state

⁸⁾ “so mr/mrs surly and serious likes having their hair washed for them, hm? don’t worry, i’ll keep your secret.”

⁹⁾ climbing into the bath/shower with them, more for the physical comfort than practicality

¹⁰⁾ “i wish the first time you saw me like this could’ve been under better circumstances.”

¹¹⁾ stripping down to the same level of undress as them in an effort to try and make them feel more comfortable

¹²⁾ “can we- can we just stay here, like this, for a minute? please?”

¹³⁾ using as gentle a touch as possible to clean them off and feeling your heart break each time they still suppress a pained whimper

¹⁴⁾ “it’s just me now. you don’t have to be brave anymore.”

¹⁵⁾ trying to towel them dry but ending up just cradling them to your chest with the towel pressed aimlessly between you

[darlin-collins]

"oh what's that? "vampire tends to your injuries"? ehhh maybe not"

[jone-slugger]

Kathryn Janeway in a tank top has always been a core memory for me tbh.

[f1shart]

slay

admittedly, i've been depressed these past couple months so it's been really hard picking up the pen and actually drawing. there was a lot more i wanted to draw, but i at least have something

veronaville and tanmeric are the only things keeping me sane anymore.........

[robo-dino-puppy]

adventurers

[becca-e-barnes]

Ok but what about submissive!dbf!bucky with a praise kink? Maybe one found accidentally? In the drabble where the reader wanted to say he was beautiful, what if she does and he just moans?? What if the word the reader is looking for is pretty? Imagine calling an older man pretty and he nearly finishes just from that?

Back to my current favourite, submissive!dbf!bucky bc I can't get enough of him rn, I have so much I want to talk about

Because ohhhh, I love the thought of him being so totally obsessed with going down on you, to the point that he'd almost do anything just for a taste of you.

And maybe he'd seen you in a pretty little dress at a get-together at your house. Maybe a birthday party or something. You had both been keeping up appearances, pretending nothing is going on between you because he's your father's best friend but he'd taken the risk and approached you, leaning over and whispering in your ear. "Next time I get you alone, I'm going to lick from your ankle to your cunt." That's all he says, his hand rests on your lower back and you barely feel the heat of it through your dress before it's gone again. God, you hope that's a promise.

Of course it is. As soon as he gets a chance to sneak away from everyone else the two of you are tiptoeing up the stairs to your bedroom. After a fierce few minutes of intensely making out, he's laid you gently onto the bed, pushing the skirt of your dress out of the way. He doesn't waste a second, his lips on the inside of your ankle, humming contently as he kisses his way up the expanse of bare skin.

For a man who's kissed every inch of your body, he never seems to get tired of it. His slight scruff scratches your skin and it's lovely to be reminded of how intensely he's worshipping your body.

"You look. So. Fucking. Breathtaking." The words are muffled against your skin, his lips trailing hungry kisses up to your knee. One of his hands holds your leg, keeping you still while the other slips higher under your skirt.

You brace yourself for the groan you know he's going to grace you with and when it comes, it doesn't disappoint. The fingertips of his index and pointer finger trail lazily across your bare sex, gliding easily thanks to the evidence of your arousal.

"No panties?" His fingers keep teasing you, trailing from your fluttering entrance to your clit and back again, giving himself time to decide where he wants to start.

"I took them off after you told me your plan and so far you've let me down." If this were any other night, he'd probably tell you to watch your mouth before he fills it but tonight is not that night. Tonight he's desperate to taste you; to walk back down those stairs, look you in the eyes for the rest of the evening, knowing he made you cum against his mouth and no one else in the room can tell. Then jerk off to the memory tonight when he's back in his own bed.

He wastes no more time after that, flattening his tongue against your ankle and purposefully trailing it up your leg to your knee, then on up your thigh. At the same time, he eases his two fingers inside you, curling them against the soft, velvety wall of your cunt.

You hold the skirt of your dress out of the way so you can see him latch his mouth onto your clit, sucking gently and flicking his tongue while he curls his fingers inside you.

This is fucking magical. You know his mouth is flooded with the taste of you, your fingers tangled in his hair to keep his mouth pressed against you. "Fuck, that's perfect." It's the only way to describe the sensation of his mouth and fingers working you in tandem.

He's lost in it. His eyes are closed in concentration, determined to give you what you need. He needs to please you and it's not a need you've instilled in him. It's one he's always had.

"You're so pretty, do you know that?" It's bouncing around in your head and you feel like you need to say it.

He groans against your sex and you don't think anything of it until he mumbles "Please don't call me that. Not right now." His fingers work you faster but your hazy, pleasure addled brain still manages to ask him why.

" 'Cause sweetheart, I don't want to cum in these trousers. I don't have a change of clothes. Didn't even know I was into that." He sounds smaller, almost pleading with you, palming his cock through his dark jeans.

"But you're gorgeous, Buck. You have no idea how pretty you are with your head between my legs." The moan he emits is so rewarding you swear you could get off on that alone, never mind his renewed need to make you finish quickly before you get him to a point of desperation.

[voxteks-sharkweek]

Hello my little lovelies! I’m sure you’ve noticed there’s been not too much going on, so I figured I should build a little hype! So here’s my peice for day two, shark tank!

I’ll post it again on actual day two of course.

If you are interested in participating in this event, check out my pinned post! I look forward to swimming through all your jaw-some art and writing

[wingsofhcpe]

Today is the anniversary of November 17, 1973 in Greece when, during the military dictatorship of Papadopoulos (the junta, as it is known, coming in power through a US-backed coup- what a surprise, I know), a group of university students shut themselves up inside the Polytechnic School of Athens in protest to the government's cruelty (exile camps & torture bases of leftists/anti-dictatorship people in islands, indescripable suppression of free speech, military curfew, etc). In response, the government sent the army forces, accompanied by a tank, to break the protests. The tank shot into the crowd, and then drove over the gate of the school, on top of which many students had climbed. Our dead were many, and the right-wing government and its citizen supporters deny them to this day, but the truth can not be hidden. The crimes of the dictatorial rule cannot be erased. And our revolution will never be silenced.

As I see many of my US friends fearing a dictatorial era in their own country, I want to say two things to you. First, that a dictatorship does not come easy, not when the people are aware of its presence and ready to fight against it (and also when it's not sponsored by a global superpower). And second, and imo most importantly: only you, the people, can save each other. Biden won't save you. Kamala won't save you. Hell- not even Bernie or Jill Stein will save you. The people can only rely on the people- no government made up of rich, powerful people, no matter their background or identities, will ever care enough to put themselves on the line for you. If you want to be safe and combat Trump, then organise, uphold and support your local community, deny anything that may seek to divide you and stick together, no matter what the threat is. That's how my people survived our junta, that's how we won against Papadopoulos, that's how we're still fighting today even under the Mitsotakis government's second term. Nobody came to save us then, nobody's gonna save us now, and nobody will save you except each other.

The people can only rely on each other, whether in the US or in Greece or in Palestine or in China, or anywhere. That's a fact. And when we do rely on each other, we can achieve amazing things and keep each other safe. Never forget that.

Ψωμί, παιδιά, ελευθερία. Μόνο ο λαός σώζει τον λαό. We will get through these hard times if we only support each other.

[residentfurry]

sherry and jake try to socialize her dad

[sleepyminty]

Sending out the final chapter of here a people sow event by having shu soloing the shit out of the final boss ft arturia earraping the enemies

[thefluffyrailway-official]

Where are Toby's siblings now?

Scrapyard 🌘w🌒👍

[heisenpink]

Aaron Paul attends Rosé Day LA at King Gillette Ranch on June 24, 2023

[cthulhusstepmom]

Ghost is observant. He's always been, even before it was his job. It kept him safe, safe from his father's worst moods, safe from bullies at school, safe from the inevitable deterioration of all of his relationships.

So when Soap starts acting suspicious he feels his heart start to sink. He's a big enough person to admit that he's been selfish with Soap, allowed himself to indulge in genuine companionship; allowed something dangerous to develop. But what choice does he have? The thought of leaving now and denying himself the simple warmth of John MacTavish is almost a physical pain. So it should be a relief when Johnny starts to pull away, it saves Ghost from being the one to do it. But for once in his long trail of broken hearts and slowly withering relationships, Ghost doesn't want it to end.

So he clings on. He seeks him out more often, snaps and snarls at the thought of Soap going out of his sight. He lays there listening as Soap wakes with a haunted scream, internally wrestling with himself until he gathers the courage to cross the hall and knock, his cheeks heating when Soap answers the door in just his boxers. He kicks himself when Soap redirects and prepares to bow out and take the dismissal respectfully when Johnny offers to come and sit with him and his traitorous heart soars in his chest. Soap is giving him this and he'll take it with gratitude. They sit together in the rec room for hours, watching the fish sleep peacefully until Soap has drifted off and his tea is in danger of spilling in his limp hand. He briefly considers taking Johnny back to his room but he rationalizes that there is a reason the Soap didn't want him in there and it really isn't his business. So he sits there and he observes. Simply watching the slight rise and fall of Johnny's chest as he sleeps on the tattered couch. Indulging in the domesticity of it all.

When a knock jars him awake in the middle of the night he's unsure what he expects but Soap delirious and bleeding was certainly not on the top of that list. A small lick of pride flares inside of him that Soap would come to him before medical, which brings with it quiet concerns and many questions. Still he brings Johnny inside and sits him gently on his bed, stepping into his bathroom to quickly grab his personal first aid kit.

Soap is saying something when he gets back, so deep in his accent that it doesn't even register as words. Kneeling on the floor in front of him, Ghost reverently takes his arm and starts to wipe at it with a damp cloth. Cleaning away the blood with quiet fervor, unsure just what could inflict such a wound on his Sergeant at this hour of the night. When the wound is revealed he flinches back.

Ghost is intimately acquainted with snake bites, has several scars buried deep in his collection that match the marks on Soap's arm, stretched and warped as they are from where he's grown since he got them.

And this is from a big fucking snake.

He looks up to Soap meets his eyes suddenly deathly sober.

"Just how'd you get this Soap?"