#and yet. it’s all stripped away?

[3416]

the nhl is so funny bc they will go great lengths to protect people accused of sexual assault or domestic violence, but they really draw the line at drugs and gambling, which is like.... isn't that WHAT your player assistance program is for? if anything..........

[autumnrory]

i am soooooooo dreading thursday like it's one thing to not have started screaming at my parents the last few weeks but to be fully surrounded by it with them and my brother and sister-in-law and unfortunately NOT my sister and brother-in-law who are decent and reasonable human beings lol like i am all alone against insanity and like for the most part they don't say a lot of really stupid shit in front of me (anymore at least bc damn i cried during so many arguments over police brutality in 2014) so it's mostly just little things nowadays that make me roll my eyes but i imagine there will at least be like hushed political conversations and i'm honestly just like. i think i will sit through the meal and go off by myself and if my niece wants to come with me or something cool but otherwise i just. cannot spend an extended period of time around four people who voted against me and my friends without breaking down and it's still a very real possibility that it'll happen anyway bc i am going to look at my sweet lovely nieces and think how horrible this world is for them i mean my nephew too ofc but ya know. not AS horrible for boys as it is for girls and also there's a very real possibility he's already believing a lot of bullshit being his age, having republican parents, being deep into sports, being on tiktok like......all of those factors make me worried lol

[cuteniarose]

Me: *creates an OC*

Me: *heavily implies OC will meet a bad fate*

OC: *meets bad fate*

Me:

(Alternatively, I may have started it, but @katkastrofa enabled me and now I’m losing my mind)

[sugar-and-spite]

made a lil house in minecraft

[aeide-thea]

sometimes it really is just like. is this all there is. feeling oversensitive & undersocialized—too sensitive to socialize—forever, bc you never got enough ~affirmation~ growing up (poor, pathetic baby; how long will you persist in singing the same self-pitying song…), & so never developed the proper emotional cushioning against the heartache & the thousand natural shocks, &c, &c, &c, &c, &c…

[merge-conflict]

every day I wake up and wish I had access to cyberpunk stuff written by someone who really truly absurdly loves computers

[wrenscoffin]

I don't know what to do, I need to vent but I uninstalled all social media besides this hellsite app, so I'm going to vent in the tags, just ignore me if you see this.

[roseofcards90]

SHE SEES HERSELF AS A TOOL SHE DOESNT EVEN SEE HERSELF AS A PERSON WHAT THE FUCKKKK 😭😭😭😭

[b0ngwatertearz]

.

[kingspuppet]

As grateful as Goro is that the Thieves took down Shido and kept that promise to him, there's no denying how much of a failure he feels he is for how everything transpired. He spent years working on his plan to tear Shido down. Everything was planned to the last detail with counter plans in place on the chance that things ended up going in a different direction. But he never accounted for the Thieves emerging just for them to throw wrench after wrench into everything he meticulously put into place. As if that wasn't bad enough, he never anticipated Shido reading him look a worn-torn novel. He always had doubts about Shido really being that oblivious throughout their entire partnership. But he always brushed it away as anxiety because he couldn't afford the panic that doubt would inevitably bring. But Shido knowing all along and knowing which buttons to push to get Goro to comply stings the most. He hates how naive he is for being so desperate for any sort of attention and affection, and that Shido knew it too. Was the last few years of his life really worth it when it all amounted to this? He never had the upper hand, and now he gets to die alone in the dark, cold bowels of his father's ship to a puppet with his face. His revenge was ripped right from his hands ––– if it was even his to grasp in the first place. And when he's brought back on that cold December night it's not what he wished for, but at least he can give a testimony of his own and help push Shido behind bars. But that's especially fleeting, and when he finds himself miraculously released and able to go free his anger is incomprehensible. Now he has all the time in the world to lament his failures and shortcomings. How even when he thought he was succeeding he was only destroying himself further by playing right into the hand of the man he hates the most. His anger has become destructive in the wake of knowing that he was never good enough as he trashes what little things he has in his apartment. His palms are bleeding from smashing his mirror onto the floor, bed turned over and sheets ripped to shreds, and clothes sopping wet with hair clinging to his face as he screams into the tiled floor of his shower when it becomes abundantly clear that he was forced into a game he could never win.

[megandzane]

I mean as shitty as it is to “evict” them from a house they payed to make habitable; I’m not sure what Charles actually thought this would do. Other than make him look petty.

They barely stay there, their kids have entirely grown up in other homes and it looks like they moved the last bit of their belongings out during Lizzie’s jubilee. Realistically, H&M didn’t want to renew their lease on frogmore cottage and this is just Chuck trying to look powerful.

[khioneee]

tap out.

simon doesn’t expect anyone to tap him out. a ritual where loved ones step forward to release a soldier from duty, creating a chance to reconnect.

based on this.

simon stands in formation, a soldier among countless others, each bound by discipline, each carrying their own story beneath a stoic exterior.

in the unyielding line, he’s silent, gaze fixed forward, while around him, families reunite: sons embraced by tearful mothers, women lifting their children into their arms, couples lost in long-awaited kisses. joy and relief fill the air, carried on quiet laughter and murmured words of love.

but simon is an orphan now.

there’s no one to step forward for him, no one to break his stance. he watches it all, standing alone, feeling like a stranger in this crowd of reunions, this world of connections he never belonged to.

over the years, the military has stripped him down, rebuilt him into something hardened and unbreakable. this new self is his armor, a wall between him and the life he left behind.

the tap-out tradition is a formality he’s only ever heard about, something he’s watched from a distance but never expected for himself.

he stands motionless as soldiers around him are tapped out by loved ones. he watches quietly, feeling a distant sense of satisfaction for them, grateful that they have that in their lives.

maybe soap would tap him out after he’d seen to his own family.

no matter how many times simon tried to keep him at arm’s length, he’d come to accept that soap wasn’t leaving him behind. coerced into the friendship or not, soap was a friend. until soap has been tapped out, there’s no one in simon’s life to come pick him out.

still, simon knew he was alone in ways he couldn’t change. or so he believes.

then he feels it—a subtle shift in the air, hesitant footsteps halting just in front of him, carrying a weight he doesn’t understand. his breath catches, but he doesn’t move. he’s trained to hold his position, but something in him almost falters as he senses a presence just inches away. slowly, he lets his gaze shift, barely, enough to catch a silhouette he thought he’d left behind a lifetime ago.

it’s you.

you. his childhood best friend. the love of his life.

you. the only person he thought of when he escaped his broken home. you. the guilt that wracked him when he ran, unable to say goodbye after the night he barely escaped after being beat nearly to death. you. the only reason he wanted to be alive, and the person he hadn’t been able to look back for.

—you. you. you.

and now here you are, standing before him, eyes wide with hope and uncertainty, tears gathering at the corners like unsaid words held back for too long.

he doesn’t understand, not fully. he thought he’d locked that door, left that part of him sealed away. and yet, here you are, holding everything he thought he’d left behind.

you hesitate, the weight of the years pressing down between you, unsure if you’re allowed to do this. if you can reach out to him after all this time, to be the one who taps him out.

he senses your uncertainty, feels it as if it’s his own, and in that moment, he lets a flicker of vulnerability break through—a slight furrow in his brow, a subtle nod. silent permission.

and you know, in that instant, it’s okay.

with a trembling hand, you reach forward, closing the distance. your hand hovers over his shoulder for a heartbeat, the air between you heavy with everything left unsaid.

then, gently, you tap him out. a simple touch, light and fleeting, yet it breaks something open in both of you.

in an instant, simon moves. his arms come around you, his grip unyielding as he pulls you close, lifting you off the ground. the soldier falls away, and he’s just simon again, holding you as if you’re the only real thing in a world that’s constantly shifting.

his head lowers, his face buried in your shoulder, and he breathes you in, lets the walls he’s held up for years fall away.

‘you’re here,’ he murmurs, voice rough, thick with emotion he can’t hide anymore.

his hand cradles the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair, each touch soft, a silent promise. the weight of years and regret presses against him, but he holds you tighter, as if to make up for every moment he was gone.

you feel the warmth of his tears against your shoulder, silent and raw. he pulls you closer still, as if afraid to let go, his voice barely a whisper as he breathes, ‘i’m sorry, lovie. i’m so damn sorry. i’ll never leave you behind again. i promise.’

and in that moment, surrounded by echoes of lives left behind, he’s just simon again, the boy who belonged with you.

. ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ an. i know the tap-out tradition isn’t common in the uk and is usually done at the airforce but oh well. read part 2 here.

[kataraslove]

there’s a reason why the entire story of avatar the last airbender begins and ends with katara. there’s a reason why we are introduced to katara first before we are introduced to any other character. there’s a reason why katara is the narrator. there’s a reason why the creators have emphasized over and over again that katara is just as titular to the story as aang - she’s the other main character.

when you water down katara - remove her compassion, her ability to connect with others, her nurturing role, her ANGER and RAGE and DRIVE - you water down the very fundamentals of the story. you drastically and severely alter the core dynamics of the gaang, because katara was so important to the development of every single one of them. she was the rock and glue that held team avatar together.

katara was unlike any other character to ever appear on television; she was a young brown girl who took no shit from anyone, yet at the same time remained kind and compassionate and nurturing. katara was a force of nature; proud of her heritage and culture, burdened by the responsibility of being the last southern water bender of the water tribe, angered over the death of her mother and everything that the fire nation took from her, determined to help every single person in need, determined to change the world, angry and resentful because old men and rules and laws kept telling her what she could or could not do, thus, she was determined to restructure thousands of years of patriarchy that stood against her from accomplishing her goals and dreams.

watering down katara into at most 2-3 tangible characteristics, stripping her away of all her motivation and agency and nuance, telling the audience that she wants to help and change the world only to have her stand in the background with an air of grief, demonstrates that the writers of the live action fundamentally misunderstand the spirit of avatar. and that’s something so unforgivable. no matter how many changes they decide to make, or how much they decide to stay true to the original story in other areas, no matter how many flashy VFX fight scenes we get - if you fail to properly understand katara, you fail to understand the heart and soul of avatar the last airbender, everything that makes avatar such a timeless classic.

[buttercuparry]

This is a video I took from Bisan's page because I feel like this is important. Bisan, here talks about the second winter of this genocide and some of the important points are:

the rains have caused the sea level to rise and it has flooded the tents which were set up on the beach.

speaking of tents themselves- they do not preserve heat. It is not made to preserve heat and yet gazans have had to live in these shelters for over a year

last November there still were shops; there were means of production, however little, to produce clothes, coats, and blankets that could keep people from freezing...right now there is nothing as every inch of the Gaza Strip has been carpet bombed.

Israel has blocked life sustaining supplies and fuel like coal and wood have started to run out: it is becoming impossible for people keep warm.

I don't have much to say anymore and can only request you to keep your eyes on Gaza. Gazans are struggling to survive and right now every little donation can go a long way into sustaining life. My friend, Siraj Abudayeh ( @siraj2024 ) has been struggling too and while his tent was not washed away in the waves, it did drown because of the destruction of sewage wells. He hopes that if not all, he can at least help some of the most vulnerable members of his family by continuing to rent a shelter. However since his old campaign was abruptly shut down by gofundme, he lost a lot of money and right now he can no longer afford the shelter.

So please this is a request to donate to Siraj. If you have received a refund, please consider a redonation. If it is not possible to donate then please boost. Sharing the fundraiser goes a long way.

[artcalledoddities]

On The Back She represents from backside

In prettier of views

The Gaza hungered spider bones

Children

I added a sexy picture

Purchase read thee above author.

On the strip

It’s all different pictures

But skeletal children

As a NBC special showing

It’s all Art Called War

A NightmareBeforeChrist passion

Continuing from the well old than a new but from there that would be nearly 2024 years ago

Ask Who!

Not old enough to Drive

Not old enough to Kill

In a kids story

I’ve been

In a bin, speak so and bend

Look at that Fort

And four are sleeping

Ohh reminding me of Kassandra

Better than dumbfounded during day in blonde daylights

Aye I have walked in on a Leaders House

What times is it

In this day and age 11:15central American Standard on this month and day of this 2024 year

Those in house

A Nightmare Before Crossing legs again

Welcome indoctrinated Children

In another house

A meal

Would be better than Prime Time

[fushiguho]

✰ nanami kento is a gentleman, of course he’ll clean you up after stuffing you full! it’s his mess after all… ;)

cw cum eating, cunnilingus

“c… can i taste it? please?”

nanami is peering up at you from between your sprawled thighs almost submissively, reluctantly tearing his lingering gaze away from the mess of cum that seeps from your pretty, stuffed cunt. a fat thumb is pressing against your pearly clit and you whine, hips rutting toward his face. god, he’s salivating.

it pools beneath you, a lewd puddle of amalgamated arousal, cum, and saliva just ruining the silken sheets. his cock aches, watching drunkenly as your overfilled hole tightens around his thick seed. slowly, you nod, gasping as he begins to push your thighs to your chest with an eagerness you’ve never seen.

“fuck, just hold them there for me, sweet girl.” he creeps closer, the pant of his hot, erratic breaths forcing your stomach to sink in dizzying arousal as you hook your arms behind your knees. “i know she’s sensitive, i just…” his wet tongue is lolling out of his mouth, licking a long, ponderous strip from your messy, little hole to the head of your twitching clit. “god, i just need to taste you one more time.”

a deep groan of pleasure leaves him, those pretty, pussy drunk eyes fluttering shut as he wholly consumes the mess he made between your quivering thighs. nanami breathes into you, huffing out hot, raptured breaths against your perfectly swollen cunt, fully losing himself within the saccharine flavor of your lewd creation.

two, burly digits are stretching you open as nanami begins to fuck his cum back inside of you, intended on feeding you every last drop. he forces his warm, syrupy load to the very back of your poor pussy, tongue circling over your clit so fervently that it makes your maw sag helplessly. the wet muscle is creeping lower to greedily chase the cum that continues to leak from your tightening hole.

nanami doesn’t miss the tremble of your hips or the quiver of your thighs as you indolently unhook your arms from behind your knees, slumping against the disheveled sheets with a wince of overstimulating pleasure. yes, he can hear the sweet, droning cries that leave you, but he can’t help himself from cleaning you up the only way he knows how—licking up the expanse of your lips, fingers steadily fucking you full.

“i know.” he murmurs, the tip of his sweltering tongue sinking inside of you with a pretty groan of unabashed satisfaction. “god, i know that clit is just… aching.” a thumb traces over the sore bundle of nerves, messily smearing his viscous cum. “i made such a mess… gotta clean you up like a gentleman.”

a feral little noise is dragging from his throat as you rut your hips in an attempt to escape, yet your efforts are done in vain because nanami is easily pulling your legs over his shoulders, dexterously following the unpredictable cant of your body. you’re writhing, stomach caving as his big, greedy hands paw up your waist, the soft pads of his thumbs circling the skin near your navel.

“n.. nanami! god, f— fuuuck!”

“cum if you have to, baby.” he urges, lips closing around your clit, sucking. “cum on my tongue if you have to… i want you to, please.” a hoarse groan departs from his slick lips, vanishing into the depths of your sloppy pussy as he feasts. “please? just one more time, sweetheart. god, i can feel how close you are.”

a single, torridly tender kiss to your ravaged clit is what’s hurling you over a dangerous ledge. you’re not sure what number this orgasm is, but it’s forcing your back to arch in such a way that it only intensifies the force of your bucking hips. nanami chases your pussy as you writhe, obnoxiously slurping up the final remnants of his cum like a man starved.

you squeal, pushing nanami away with a little more force than intended, sending him tumbling to the carpeted floor with a muted thud! he only smiles up at you, a crooked, pussy drunk smile that crinkles the corners of his honeyed eyes. disheveled tufts of lemony blonde dance across his forehead, face flushed with parching crimson.

his tongue is darting out to sweep across his pretty pink lips before mumbling. “sorry.”