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#I hate Rage Against the Machine
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โ€œWeapons not food, not homes, not shoes
Not need, just feed the war cannibal animal
I walk the corner to the rubble that used to be a library
Line up to the mind cemetery now
What we don't know keeps the contracts alive and movin'
They don't gotta burn the books they just remove 'em
While arms warehouses fill as quick as the cells
Rally 'round the family, pockets full of shells.โ€ -Rage Against the Machine, Bulls on Parade
#I love this country ๐Ÿ™„#itโ€™s getting worse and worse by the day#america#missouri#rage against the machine#this is because conservatives wanted to ban books that dealt with inclusion#thatโ€™s literally the reason#I hate it here#canโ€™t wait for other states to follow suit#public libraries
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๐—ช๐—˜๐—Ÿ๐—Ÿ ๐—–๐—จ๐—  ๐—ง๐ ๐—ง๐—›๐  ๐—ฆ๐—›๐—œ๐—ง ๐—ฆ๐—›๐๐—ช ๐Ÿญ/๐Ÿฎ
๐•ถ๐–Ž๐–‘๐–‘๐–Ž๐–“๐–Œ ๐–Ž๐–“ ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–“๐–†๐–’๐–Š ๐–”๐–‹
๐•พ๐–”๐–’๐–Š ๐–”๐–‹ ๐–™๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–œ๐–”๐–—๐– ๐–‹๐–”๐–—๐–ˆ๐–Š๐–˜
๐•ฌ๐–—๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–˜๐–†๐–’๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–‡๐–š๐–—๐–“ ๐–ˆ๐–—๐–”๐–˜๐–˜๐–Š๐–˜
๐•พ๐–”๐–’๐–Š ๐–”๐–‹ ๐–™๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–œ๐–”๐–—๐– ๐–‹๐–”๐–—๐–ˆ๐–Š๐–˜
๐•ฌ๐–—๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–˜๐–†๐–’๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–‡๐–š๐–—๐–“ ๐–ˆ๐–—๐–”๐–˜๐–˜๐–Š๐–˜
๐•พ๐–”๐–’๐–Š ๐–”๐–‹ ๐–™๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–œ๐–”๐–—๐– ๐–‹๐–”๐–—๐–ˆ๐–Š๐–˜
๐•ฌ๐–—๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–˜๐–†๐–’๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–‡๐–š๐–—๐–“ ๐–ˆ๐–—๐–”๐–˜๐–˜๐–Š๐–˜
๐•พ๐–”๐–’๐–Š ๐–”๐–‹ ๐–™๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–œ๐–”๐–—๐– ๐–‹๐–”๐–—๐–ˆ๐–Š๐–˜
๐•ฌ๐–—๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–˜๐–†๐–’๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–‡๐–š๐–—๐–“ ๐–ˆ๐–—๐–”๐–˜๐–˜๐–Š๐–˜
๐–€๐–!
๐•ถ๐–Ž๐–‘๐–‘๐–Ž๐–“๐–Œ ๐–Ž๐–“ ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–“๐–†๐–’๐–Š ๐–”๐–‹
๐•ถ๐–Ž๐–‘๐–‘๐–Ž๐–“๐–Œ ๐–Ž๐–“ ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–“๐–†๐–’๐–Š ๐–”๐–‹
๐•น๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–†
๐•น๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–†
๐•น๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–†
๐•น๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–†
๐•ฌ๐–“๐–‰ ๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–†
๐•ฌ๐–“๐–‰ ๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–†
๐•ฌ๐–“๐–‰ ๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–†
๐•ฌ๐–“๐–‰ ๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–†
๐•ฌ๐–“๐–‰ ๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–†
โ€˜๐•ฎ๐–†๐–š๐–˜๐–Š ๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–†
๐•ญ๐–š๐–™ ๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–†
๐–‚๐–Š๐–‘๐–‘, ๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–†
๐•ฟ๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š ๐–œ๐–๐–” ๐–‰๐–Ž๐–Š๐–‰ ๐–†๐–—๐–Š ๐–๐–š๐–˜๐–™๐–Ž๐–‹๐–Ž๐–Š๐–‰
๐•ฑ๐–”๐–— ๐–œ๐–Š๐–†๐–—๐–Ž๐–“๐–Œ ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–‡๐–†๐–‰๐–Œ๐–Š, ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–žโ€™๐–—๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–ˆ๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š๐–“ ๐–œ๐–๐–Ž๐–™๐–Š๐–˜
๐–„๐–”๐–š ๐–๐–š๐–˜๐–™๐–Ž๐–‹๐–ž ๐–™๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–‰๐–Ž๐–Š๐–‰
๐•ญ๐–ž ๐–œ๐–Š๐–†๐–—๐–Ž๐–“๐–Œ ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–‡๐–†๐–‰๐–Œ๐–Š, ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–žโ€™๐–—๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–ˆ๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š๐–“ ๐–œ๐–๐–Ž๐–™๐–Š๐–˜
๐•ฟ๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š ๐–œ๐–๐–” ๐–‰๐–Ž๐–Š๐–‰ ๐–†๐–—๐–Š ๐–๐–š๐–˜๐–™๐–Ž๐–‹๐–Ž๐–Š๐–‰
๐•ฑ๐–”๐–— ๐–œ๐–Š๐–†๐–—๐–Ž๐–“๐–Œ ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–‡๐–†๐–‰๐–Œ๐–Š, ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–žโ€™๐–—๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–ˆ๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š๐–“ ๐–œ๐–๐–Ž๐–™๐–Š๐–˜
๐–„๐–”๐–š ๐–๐–š๐–˜๐–™๐–Ž๐–‹๐–ž ๐–™๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š ๐–œ๐–๐–” ๐–‰๐–Ž๐–Š๐–‰
๐•ญ๐–ž ๐–œ๐–Š๐–†๐–—๐–Ž๐–“๐–Œ ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–‡๐–†๐–‰๐–Œ๐–Š, ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–žโ€™๐–—๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–ˆ๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š๐–“ ๐–œ๐–๐–Ž๐–™๐–Š๐–˜
๐•พ๐–”๐–’๐–Š ๐–”๐–‹ ๐–™๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–œ๐–”๐–—๐– ๐–‹๐–”๐–—๐–ˆ๐–Š๐–˜
๐•ฌ๐–—๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–˜๐–†๐–’๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–‡๐–š๐–—๐–“ ๐–ˆ๐–—๐–”๐–˜๐–˜๐–Š๐–˜
๐•พ๐–”๐–’๐–Š ๐–”๐–‹ ๐–™๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–œ๐–”๐–—๐– ๐–‹๐–”๐–—๐–ˆ๐–Š๐–˜
๐•ฌ๐–—๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–˜๐–†๐–’๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–‡๐–š๐–—๐–“ ๐–ˆ๐–—๐–”๐–˜๐–˜๐–Š๐–˜
๐•พ๐–”๐–’๐–Š ๐–”๐–‹ ๐–™๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–œ๐–”๐–—๐– ๐–‹๐–”๐–—๐–ˆ๐–Š๐–˜
๐•ฌ๐–—๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–˜๐–†๐–’๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–‡๐–š๐–—๐–“ ๐–ˆ๐–—๐–”๐–˜๐–˜๐–Š๐–˜
๐•พ๐–”๐–’๐–Š ๐–”๐–‹ ๐–™๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–œ๐–”๐–—๐– ๐–‹๐–”๐–—๐–ˆ๐–Š๐–˜
๐•ฌ๐–—๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–˜๐–†๐–’๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–‡๐–š๐–—๐–“ ๐–ˆ๐–—๐–”๐–˜๐–˜๐–Š๐–˜
๐–€๐–!
๐•ถ๐–Ž๐–‘๐–‘๐–Ž๐–“๐–Œ ๐–Ž๐–“ ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–“๐–†๐–’๐–Š ๐–”๐–‹
๐•ถ๐–Ž๐–‘๐–‘๐–Ž๐–“๐–Œ ๐–Ž๐–“ ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–“๐–†๐–’๐–Š ๐–”๐–‹
๐•น๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–†
๐•น๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–†
๐•น๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–†
๐•น๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–†
๐•ฌ๐–“๐–‰ ๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–† (๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–šโ€™๐–—๐–Š ๐–š๐–“๐–‰๐–Š๐–— ๐–ˆ๐–”๐–“๐–™๐–—๐–”๐–‘)
๐•ฌ๐–“๐–‰ ๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–† (๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–šโ€™๐–—๐–Š ๐–š๐–“๐–‰๐–Š๐–— ๐–ˆ๐–”๐–“๐–™๐–—๐–”๐–‘)
๐•ฌ๐–“๐–‰ ๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–† (๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–šโ€™๐–—๐–Š ๐–š๐–“๐–‰๐–Š๐–— ๐–ˆ๐–”๐–“๐–™๐–—๐–”๐–‘)
๐•ฌ๐–“๐–‰ ๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–† (๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–šโ€™๐–—๐–Š ๐–š๐–“๐–‰๐–Š๐–— ๐–ˆ๐–”๐–“๐–™๐–—๐–”๐–‘)
๐•ฌ๐–“๐–‰ ๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–† (๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–šโ€™๐–—๐–Š ๐–š๐–“๐–‰๐–Š๐–— ๐–ˆ๐–”๐–“๐–™๐–—๐–”๐–‘)
๐•ฌ๐–“๐–‰ ๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–† (๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–šโ€™๐–—๐–Š ๐–š๐–“๐–‰๐–Š๐–— ๐–ˆ๐–”๐–“๐–™๐–—๐–”๐–‘)
๐•ฌ๐–“๐–‰ ๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–† (๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–šโ€™๐–—๐–Š ๐–š๐–“๐–‰๐–Š๐–— ๐–ˆ๐–”๐–“๐–™๐–—๐–”๐–‘)
๐•ญ๐–š๐–™ ๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–†!
๐•ฟ๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š ๐–œ๐–๐–” ๐–‰๐–Ž๐–Š๐–‰ ๐–†๐–—๐–Š ๐–๐–š๐–˜๐–™๐–Ž๐–‹๐–Ž๐–Š๐–‰
๐•ฑ๐–”๐–— ๐–œ๐–Š๐–†๐–—๐–Ž๐–“๐–Œ ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–‡๐–†๐–‰๐–Œ๐–Š, ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–žโ€™๐–—๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–ˆ๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š๐–“ ๐–œ๐–๐–Ž๐–™๐–Š๐–˜
๐–„๐–”๐–š ๐–๐–š๐–˜๐–™๐–Ž๐–‹๐–ž ๐–™๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–‰๐–Ž๐–Š๐–‰
๐•ญ๐–ž ๐–œ๐–Š๐–†๐–—๐–Ž๐–“๐–Œ ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–‡๐–†๐–‰๐–Œ๐–Š, ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–žโ€™๐–—๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–ˆ๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š๐–“ ๐–œ๐–๐–Ž๐–™๐–Š๐–˜
๐•ฟ๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š ๐–œ๐–๐–” ๐–‰๐–Ž๐–Š๐–‰ ๐–†๐–—๐–Š ๐–๐–š๐–˜๐–™๐–Ž๐–‹๐–Ž๐–Š๐–‰
๐•ฑ๐–”๐–— ๐–œ๐–Š๐–†๐–—๐–Ž๐–“๐–Œ ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–‡๐–†๐–‰๐–Œ๐–Š, ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–žโ€™๐–—๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–ˆ๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š๐–“ ๐–œ๐–๐–Ž๐–™๐–Š๐–˜
๐–„๐–”๐–š ๐–๐–š๐–˜๐–™๐–Ž๐–‹๐–ž ๐–™๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–‰๐–Ž๐–Š๐–‰
๐•ญ๐–ž ๐–œ๐–Š๐–†๐–—๐–Ž๐–“๐–Œ ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–‡๐–†๐–‰๐–Œ๐–Š, ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–žโ€™๐–—๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–ˆ๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š๐–“ ๐–œ๐–๐–Ž๐–™๐–Š๐–˜, ๐–ˆ๐–”๐–’๐–Š ๐–”๐–“
๐–€๐–!
๐–„๐–Š๐–†๐–
๐•ฎ๐–”๐–’๐–Š ๐–”๐–“
๐–€๐–!
๐•ฑ๐–š๐–ˆ๐– ๐–ž๐–”๐–š, ๐•ด ๐–œ๐–”๐–“โ€™๐–™ ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–™๐–Š๐–‘๐–‘ ๐–’๐–Š
๐•ฑ๐–š๐–ˆ๐– ๐–ž๐–”๐–š, ๐•ด ๐–œ๐–”๐–“โ€™๐–™ ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–™๐–Š๐–‘๐–‘ ๐–’๐–Š
๐•ฑ๐–š๐–ˆ๐– ๐–ž๐–”๐–š, ๐•ด ๐–œ๐–”๐–“โ€™๐–™ ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–™๐–Š๐–‘๐–‘ ๐–’๐–Š
๐•ฑ๐–š๐–ˆ๐– ๐–ž๐–”๐–š, ๐•ด ๐–œ๐–”๐–“โ€™๐–™ ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–™๐–Š๐–‘๐–‘ ๐–’๐–Š
๐•ฑ๐–š๐–ˆ๐– ๐–ž๐–”๐–š, ๐•ด ๐–œ๐–”๐–“โ€™๐–™ ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–™๐–Š๐–‘๐–‘ ๐–’๐–Š
๐•ฑ๐–š๐–ˆ๐– ๐–ž๐–”๐–š, ๐•ด ๐–œ๐–”๐–“โ€™๐–™ ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–™๐–Š๐–‘๐–‘ ๐–’๐–Š
๐•ฑ๐–š๐–ˆ๐– ๐–ž๐–”๐–š, ๐•ด ๐–œ๐–”๐–“โ€™๐–™ ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–™๐–Š๐–‘๐–‘ ๐–’๐–Š
๐•ฑ๐–š๐–ˆ๐– ๐–ž๐–”๐–š, ๐•ด ๐–œ๐–”๐–“โ€™๐–™ ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–™๐–Š๐–‘๐–‘ ๐–’๐–Š
๐•ฑ๐–š๐–ˆ๐– ๐–ž๐–”๐–š, ๐•ด ๐–œ๐–”๐–“โ€™๐–™ ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–™๐–Š๐–‘๐–‘ ๐–’๐–Š!
๐•ฑ๐–š๐–ˆ๐– ๐–ž๐–”๐–š, ๐•ด ๐–œ๐–”๐–“โ€™๐–™ ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–™๐–Š๐–‘๐–‘ ๐–’๐–Š!
๐•ฑ๐–š๐–ˆ๐– ๐–ž๐–”๐–š, ๐•ด ๐–œ๐–”๐–“โ€™๐–™ ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–™๐–Š๐–‘๐–‘ ๐–’๐–Š!
๐•ฑ๐–š๐–ˆ๐– ๐–ž๐–”๐–š, ๐•ด ๐–œ๐–”๐–“โ€™๐–™ ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–™๐–Š๐–‘๐–‘ ๐–’๐–Š!
๐•ฑ๐–š๐–ˆ๐– ๐–ž๐–”๐–š, ๐•ด ๐–œ๐–”๐–“โ€™๐–™ ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–™๐–Š๐–‘๐–‘ ๐–’๐–Š!
๐•ฑ๐–š๐–ˆ๐– ๐–ž๐–”๐–š, ๐•ด ๐–œ๐–”๐–“โ€™๐–™ ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–™๐–Š๐–‘๐–‘ ๐–’๐–Š!
๐•ฑ๐–š๐–ˆ๐– ๐–ž๐–”๐–š, ๐•ด ๐–œ๐–”๐–“โ€™๐–™ ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–™๐–Š๐–‘๐–‘ ๐–’๐–Š!
๐•ฑ๐–š๐–ˆ๐– ๐–ž๐–”๐–š, ๐•ด ๐–œ๐–”๐–“โ€™๐–™ ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–™๐–Š๐–‘๐–‘ ๐–’๐–Š!
๐•ธ๐–”๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–—๐–‹๐–š๐–ˆ๐–๐–Š๐–—!
๐–€๐–!
Killing In The Name by Rage Against The Machine
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#i hate you#kim jong un#x-heesy#my art#my memes#my words#9/2024#dicktator#north korea#memes#middle finger#fuck the system#w r o n g#political#mothatrucking peace#iphone art#typography#rage against the machine#ratm#dirty humor#dirty memes#satire#not funny#now playing#music and art#killing in the name
6 notes ยท View notes
tweakerist ยท 2 months
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"tweek would listen to taylor swift" no he wouldnt i know him better than you
#sorry but i hate that woman#he actually listens to korn and rage against the machine
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lovely-v ยท 2 months
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some random individual who has never thought critically in their life every single time Green Day, the band that famously has an entire album called American Idiot featuring well-known anti-america song American Idiot, goes viral for saying that they hate america and publicly denouncing american fascism:
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#veesaysthings#it's just so hilarious to me#i saw them live in 2016 and they chanted 'no trump no kkk no fascist usa' for like five minutes straight#they fucking hate it here lmao#how do ppl not know at this point#it's like when everyone got mad at rage against the machine like what machine did you think they were raging against??
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the-90s-music-colosseum ยท 8 months
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Not to rush things too much because we still have over two more weeks of Round 1 to go... but I WILL warn that "All Star vs Bulls On Parade" is a matchup set to take place in Round 2. yeah I'm sorry.
#smash mouth#rage against the machine#this was unplanned#I hate that four-song bracket corner so much#All Star takes out Flagpole Sitta. Bulls On Parade takes out Peaches.#I hate that I made that
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rejectofsociety ยท 1 year
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itโ€™s almost 11pm and my neighbors are still shooting off fireworks Iโ€™m gonna fucking hurt someone
#shoot a firework up your ass dipshit#goddamn I hate these rebuplican motherfucks#Iโ€™m gonna blast rage against the machine and start screaming
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my-sibling-wears-a-muumuu ยท 8 months
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i wanna go down fighting.
#is this fueled by rage?#yeah. of course it is#I'm a afab teenager#I'm brimming with rage and hate#I listen to SOAD and MCR and Green Day#Of course I'm fucking angry#I listen to Paramore and Rage Against the Machine and Fall Out Boy#Who wouldn't be angry at the world#They scream and yell of normal queer and trans feelings#They let me feel how I think I should.
2 notes ยท View notes
15000bugs ยท 2 years
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i love being busy. a busy little bee. i love having my schedule so full that i dont even have time to think
#this sounds sarcastic but im being genuine#knock on wood but i could write for hours and not get sick of it#and i love ambassador work and i might take up an orientation job soon too#and im starting a new freelance job soon once i get more articles in my portfolio#and im working on like four different articles rn#and im working from 7 to 1 tomorrow#and giving a speech#busy bee buzz buzz#๐Ÿ๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐Ÿ’ป๐Ÿ—ž#this is not corporate sadness btw. rage against the machine and whatnot. labor unions hell yeah#i have achieved class consciousness yes to affirm#and im not a workaholic or anything#i just like having schedule and order and organization.. makes me feel good! and productive#and no matter how much i hate the concept of it i DO admittedly thrive on approval for being a quote unquote hard worker#its mostly the strict organization though. i love timed schedules i love lists. autism slay
8 notes ยท View notes
x-heesy ยท 18 days
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๐—ช๐—˜๐—Ÿ๐—Ÿ ๐—–๐—จ๐—  ๐—ง๐ ๐—ง๐—›๐  ๐—ฆ๐—›๐—œ๐—ง ๐—ฆ๐—›๐๐—ช 2/๐Ÿฎ
๐•ถ๐–Ž๐–‘๐–‘๐–Ž๐–“๐–Œ ๐–Ž๐–“ ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–“๐–†๐–’๐–Š ๐–”๐–‹
๐•พ๐–”๐–’๐–Š ๐–”๐–‹ ๐–™๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–œ๐–”๐–—๐– ๐–‹๐–”๐–—๐–ˆ๐–Š๐–˜
๐•ฌ๐–—๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–˜๐–†๐–’๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–‡๐–š๐–—๐–“ ๐–ˆ๐–—๐–”๐–˜๐–˜๐–Š๐–˜
๐•พ๐–”๐–’๐–Š ๐–”๐–‹ ๐–™๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–œ๐–”๐–—๐– ๐–‹๐–”๐–—๐–ˆ๐–Š๐–˜
๐•ฌ๐–—๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–˜๐–†๐–’๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–‡๐–š๐–—๐–“ ๐–ˆ๐–—๐–”๐–˜๐–˜๐–Š๐–˜
๐•พ๐–”๐–’๐–Š ๐–”๐–‹ ๐–™๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–œ๐–”๐–—๐– ๐–‹๐–”๐–—๐–ˆ๐–Š๐–˜
๐•ฌ๐–—๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–˜๐–†๐–’๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–‡๐–š๐–—๐–“ ๐–ˆ๐–—๐–”๐–˜๐–˜๐–Š๐–˜
๐•พ๐–”๐–’๐–Š ๐–”๐–‹ ๐–™๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–œ๐–”๐–—๐– ๐–‹๐–”๐–—๐–ˆ๐–Š๐–˜
๐•ฌ๐–—๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–˜๐–†๐–’๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–‡๐–š๐–—๐–“ ๐–ˆ๐–—๐–”๐–˜๐–˜๐–Š๐–˜
๐–€๐–!
๐•ถ๐–Ž๐–‘๐–‘๐–Ž๐–“๐–Œ ๐–Ž๐–“ ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–“๐–†๐–’๐–Š ๐–”๐–‹
๐•ถ๐–Ž๐–‘๐–‘๐–Ž๐–“๐–Œ ๐–Ž๐–“ ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–“๐–†๐–’๐–Š ๐–”๐–‹
๐•น๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–†
๐•น๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–†
๐•น๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–†
๐•น๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–†
๐•ฌ๐–“๐–‰ ๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–†
๐•ฌ๐–“๐–‰ ๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–†
๐•ฌ๐–“๐–‰ ๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–†
๐•ฌ๐–“๐–‰ ๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–†
๐•ฌ๐–“๐–‰ ๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–†
โ€˜๐•ฎ๐–†๐–š๐–˜๐–Š ๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–†
๐•ญ๐–š๐–™ ๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–†
๐–‚๐–Š๐–‘๐–‘, ๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–†
๐•ฟ๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š ๐–œ๐–๐–” ๐–‰๐–Ž๐–Š๐–‰ ๐–†๐–—๐–Š ๐–๐–š๐–˜๐–™๐–Ž๐–‹๐–Ž๐–Š๐–‰
๐•ฑ๐–”๐–— ๐–œ๐–Š๐–†๐–—๐–Ž๐–“๐–Œ ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–‡๐–†๐–‰๐–Œ๐–Š, ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–žโ€™๐–—๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–ˆ๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š๐–“ ๐–œ๐–๐–Ž๐–™๐–Š๐–˜
๐–„๐–”๐–š ๐–๐–š๐–˜๐–™๐–Ž๐–‹๐–ž ๐–™๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–‰๐–Ž๐–Š๐–‰
๐•ญ๐–ž ๐–œ๐–Š๐–†๐–—๐–Ž๐–“๐–Œ ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–‡๐–†๐–‰๐–Œ๐–Š, ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–žโ€™๐–—๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–ˆ๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š๐–“ ๐–œ๐–๐–Ž๐–™๐–Š๐–˜
๐•ฟ๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š ๐–œ๐–๐–” ๐–‰๐–Ž๐–Š๐–‰ ๐–†๐–—๐–Š ๐–๐–š๐–˜๐–™๐–Ž๐–‹๐–Ž๐–Š๐–‰
๐•ฑ๐–”๐–— ๐–œ๐–Š๐–†๐–—๐–Ž๐–“๐–Œ ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–‡๐–†๐–‰๐–Œ๐–Š, ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–žโ€™๐–—๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–ˆ๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š๐–“ ๐–œ๐–๐–Ž๐–™๐–Š๐–˜
๐–„๐–”๐–š ๐–๐–š๐–˜๐–™๐–Ž๐–‹๐–ž ๐–™๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š ๐–œ๐–๐–” ๐–‰๐–Ž๐–Š๐–‰
๐•ญ๐–ž ๐–œ๐–Š๐–†๐–—๐–Ž๐–“๐–Œ ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–‡๐–†๐–‰๐–Œ๐–Š, ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–žโ€™๐–—๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–ˆ๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š๐–“ ๐–œ๐–๐–Ž๐–™๐–Š๐–˜
๐•พ๐–”๐–’๐–Š ๐–”๐–‹ ๐–™๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–œ๐–”๐–—๐– ๐–‹๐–”๐–—๐–ˆ๐–Š๐–˜
๐•ฌ๐–—๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–˜๐–†๐–’๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–‡๐–š๐–—๐–“ ๐–ˆ๐–—๐–”๐–˜๐–˜๐–Š๐–˜
๐•พ๐–”๐–’๐–Š ๐–”๐–‹ ๐–™๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–œ๐–”๐–—๐– ๐–‹๐–”๐–—๐–ˆ๐–Š๐–˜
๐•ฌ๐–—๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–˜๐–†๐–’๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–‡๐–š๐–—๐–“ ๐–ˆ๐–—๐–”๐–˜๐–˜๐–Š๐–˜
๐•พ๐–”๐–’๐–Š ๐–”๐–‹ ๐–™๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–œ๐–”๐–—๐– ๐–‹๐–”๐–—๐–ˆ๐–Š๐–˜
๐•ฌ๐–—๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–˜๐–†๐–’๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–‡๐–š๐–—๐–“ ๐–ˆ๐–—๐–”๐–˜๐–˜๐–Š๐–˜
๐•พ๐–”๐–’๐–Š ๐–”๐–‹ ๐–™๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–œ๐–”๐–—๐– ๐–‹๐–”๐–—๐–ˆ๐–Š๐–˜
๐•ฌ๐–—๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–˜๐–†๐–’๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–‡๐–š๐–—๐–“ ๐–ˆ๐–—๐–”๐–˜๐–˜๐–Š๐–˜
๐–€๐–!
๐•ถ๐–Ž๐–‘๐–‘๐–Ž๐–“๐–Œ ๐–Ž๐–“ ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–“๐–†๐–’๐–Š ๐–”๐–‹
๐•ถ๐–Ž๐–‘๐–‘๐–Ž๐–“๐–Œ ๐–Ž๐–“ ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–“๐–†๐–’๐–Š ๐–”๐–‹
๐•น๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–†
๐•น๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–†
๐•น๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–†
๐•น๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–†
๐•ฌ๐–“๐–‰ ๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–† (๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–šโ€™๐–—๐–Š ๐–š๐–“๐–‰๐–Š๐–— ๐–ˆ๐–”๐–“๐–™๐–—๐–”๐–‘)
๐•ฌ๐–“๐–‰ ๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–† (๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–šโ€™๐–—๐–Š ๐–š๐–“๐–‰๐–Š๐–— ๐–ˆ๐–”๐–“๐–™๐–—๐–”๐–‘)
๐•ฌ๐–“๐–‰ ๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–† (๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–šโ€™๐–—๐–Š ๐–š๐–“๐–‰๐–Š๐–— ๐–ˆ๐–”๐–“๐–™๐–—๐–”๐–‘)
๐•ฌ๐–“๐–‰ ๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–† (๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–šโ€™๐–—๐–Š ๐–š๐–“๐–‰๐–Š๐–— ๐–ˆ๐–”๐–“๐–™๐–—๐–”๐–‘)
๐•ฌ๐–“๐–‰ ๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–† (๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–šโ€™๐–—๐–Š ๐–š๐–“๐–‰๐–Š๐–— ๐–ˆ๐–”๐–“๐–™๐–—๐–”๐–‘)
๐•ฌ๐–“๐–‰ ๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–† (๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–šโ€™๐–—๐–Š ๐–š๐–“๐–‰๐–Š๐–— ๐–ˆ๐–”๐–“๐–™๐–—๐–”๐–‘)
๐•ฌ๐–“๐–‰ ๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–† (๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–šโ€™๐–—๐–Š ๐–š๐–“๐–‰๐–Š๐–— ๐–ˆ๐–”๐–“๐–™๐–—๐–”๐–‘)
๐•ญ๐–š๐–™ ๐–“๐–”๐–œ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–ž ๐–™๐–”๐–‘๐–‰ ๐–ž๐–†!
๐•ฟ๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š ๐–œ๐–๐–” ๐–‰๐–Ž๐–Š๐–‰ ๐–†๐–—๐–Š ๐–๐–š๐–˜๐–™๐–Ž๐–‹๐–Ž๐–Š๐–‰
๐•ฑ๐–”๐–— ๐–œ๐–Š๐–†๐–—๐–Ž๐–“๐–Œ ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–‡๐–†๐–‰๐–Œ๐–Š, ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–žโ€™๐–—๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–ˆ๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š๐–“ ๐–œ๐–๐–Ž๐–™๐–Š๐–˜
๐–„๐–”๐–š ๐–๐–š๐–˜๐–™๐–Ž๐–‹๐–ž ๐–™๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–‰๐–Ž๐–Š๐–‰
๐•ญ๐–ž ๐–œ๐–Š๐–†๐–—๐–Ž๐–“๐–Œ ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–‡๐–†๐–‰๐–Œ๐–Š, ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–žโ€™๐–—๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–ˆ๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š๐–“ ๐–œ๐–๐–Ž๐–™๐–Š๐–˜
๐•ฟ๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š ๐–œ๐–๐–” ๐–‰๐–Ž๐–Š๐–‰ ๐–†๐–—๐–Š ๐–๐–š๐–˜๐–™๐–Ž๐–‹๐–Ž๐–Š๐–‰
๐•ฑ๐–”๐–— ๐–œ๐–Š๐–†๐–—๐–Ž๐–“๐–Œ ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–‡๐–†๐–‰๐–Œ๐–Š, ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–žโ€™๐–—๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–ˆ๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š๐–“ ๐–œ๐–๐–Ž๐–™๐–Š๐–˜
๐–„๐–”๐–š ๐–๐–š๐–˜๐–™๐–Ž๐–‹๐–ž ๐–™๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–‰๐–Ž๐–Š๐–‰
๐•ญ๐–ž ๐–œ๐–Š๐–†๐–—๐–Ž๐–“๐–Œ ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–‡๐–†๐–‰๐–Œ๐–Š, ๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–žโ€™๐–—๐–Š ๐–™๐–๐–Š ๐–ˆ๐–๐–”๐–˜๐–Š๐–“ ๐–œ๐–๐–Ž๐–™๐–Š๐–˜, ๐–ˆ๐–”๐–’๐–Š ๐–”๐–“
๐–€๐–!
๐–„๐–Š๐–†๐–
๐•ฎ๐–”๐–’๐–Š ๐–”๐–“
๐–€๐–!
๐•ฑ๐–š๐–ˆ๐– ๐–ž๐–”๐–š, ๐•ด ๐–œ๐–”๐–“โ€™๐–™ ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–™๐–Š๐–‘๐–‘ ๐–’๐–Š
๐•ฑ๐–š๐–ˆ๐– ๐–ž๐–”๐–š, ๐•ด ๐–œ๐–”๐–“โ€™๐–™ ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–™๐–Š๐–‘๐–‘ ๐–’๐–Š
๐•ฑ๐–š๐–ˆ๐– ๐–ž๐–”๐–š, ๐•ด ๐–œ๐–”๐–“โ€™๐–™ ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–™๐–Š๐–‘๐–‘ ๐–’๐–Š
๐•ฑ๐–š๐–ˆ๐– ๐–ž๐–”๐–š, ๐•ด ๐–œ๐–”๐–“โ€™๐–™ ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–™๐–Š๐–‘๐–‘ ๐–’๐–Š
๐•ฑ๐–š๐–ˆ๐– ๐–ž๐–”๐–š, ๐•ด ๐–œ๐–”๐–“โ€™๐–™ ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–™๐–Š๐–‘๐–‘ ๐–’๐–Š
๐•ฑ๐–š๐–ˆ๐– ๐–ž๐–”๐–š, ๐•ด ๐–œ๐–”๐–“โ€™๐–™ ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–™๐–Š๐–‘๐–‘ ๐–’๐–Š
๐•ฑ๐–š๐–ˆ๐– ๐–ž๐–”๐–š, ๐•ด ๐–œ๐–”๐–“โ€™๐–™ ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–™๐–Š๐–‘๐–‘ ๐–’๐–Š
๐•ฑ๐–š๐–ˆ๐– ๐–ž๐–”๐–š, ๐•ด ๐–œ๐–”๐–“โ€™๐–™ ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–™๐–Š๐–‘๐–‘ ๐–’๐–Š
๐•ฑ๐–š๐–ˆ๐– ๐–ž๐–”๐–š, ๐•ด ๐–œ๐–”๐–“โ€™๐–™ ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–™๐–Š๐–‘๐–‘ ๐–’๐–Š!
๐•ฑ๐–š๐–ˆ๐– ๐–ž๐–”๐–š, ๐•ด ๐–œ๐–”๐–“โ€™๐–™ ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–™๐–Š๐–‘๐–‘ ๐–’๐–Š!
๐•ฑ๐–š๐–ˆ๐– ๐–ž๐–”๐–š, ๐•ด ๐–œ๐–”๐–“โ€™๐–™ ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–™๐–Š๐–‘๐–‘ ๐–’๐–Š!
๐•ฑ๐–š๐–ˆ๐– ๐–ž๐–”๐–š, ๐•ด ๐–œ๐–”๐–“โ€™๐–™ ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–™๐–Š๐–‘๐–‘ ๐–’๐–Š!
๐•ฑ๐–š๐–ˆ๐– ๐–ž๐–”๐–š, ๐•ด ๐–œ๐–”๐–“โ€™๐–™ ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–™๐–Š๐–‘๐–‘ ๐–’๐–Š!
๐•ฑ๐–š๐–ˆ๐– ๐–ž๐–”๐–š, ๐•ด ๐–œ๐–”๐–“โ€™๐–™ ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–™๐–Š๐–‘๐–‘ ๐–’๐–Š!
๐•ฑ๐–š๐–ˆ๐– ๐–ž๐–”๐–š, ๐•ด ๐–œ๐–”๐–“โ€™๐–™ ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–™๐–Š๐–‘๐–‘ ๐–’๐–Š!
๐•ฑ๐–š๐–ˆ๐– ๐–ž๐–”๐–š, ๐•ด ๐–œ๐–”๐–“โ€™๐–™ ๐–‰๐–” ๐–œ๐–๐–†๐–™ ๐–ž๐–”๐–š ๐–™๐–Š๐–‘๐–‘ ๐–’๐–Š!
๐•ธ๐–”๐–™๐–๐–Š๐–—๐–‹๐–š๐–ˆ๐–๐–Š๐–—!
๐–€๐–!
Killing In The Name by Rage Against The Machine
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#i hate you#kim jong un#north korea#9/2024#x-heesy#my art#artists on tumblr#dicktator#political#w r o n g#my memes#my words#fuck the system#memes#dirty humor#dirty memes#satire#not funny#iphone art#typography#rage against the machine#killing in the name#now playing#fucking favorite#music and art#contemporaryart
4 notes ยท View notes
kitasuno ยท 8 months
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dating the love and deepspace boys | domestic moments
featuring: rafayel, xavier, and zayne x gn!reader
(ยดโ€ข ฯ‰ โ€ข`) โ™ก modern au! can you guys tell raf is my favorite..?
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rafayel
a year younger than you. lies to everyone (including you) that heโ€™s actually two years your senior. you only found out he was younger than you when you met his parents, who have his birth certificate framed.ย 
hates cats. despises them. they fill him with rage (fear). says heโ€™s allergic (heโ€™s lying).
โ€œoh shit raf, this sucks! i guess you canโ€™t move in with me.. i have catsโ€
โ€œ...you have cats?โ€
โ€œyeah. 3.โ€
โ€œiโ€™m not allergic. i can move in tonight.โ€
chronically online. minoring in marine biology and majoring in annoying you. texts you over 200 times a day and if you donโ€™t respond, heโ€™s faking a horrible chronic illness. again. itโ€™s amnesia on wednesdays, appendicitis on thursdays, chronic migraines on fridaysโ€ฆ etc..
he has 2 followers on his private twitter. you and thomas.ย 
over 700k followers on instagram for some reason? he sells paintings on depop (he says it's depop but youโ€™re convinced he sells them for heinous prices on the black market)ย 
cooks on occasion? has an apron that says kiss me im irish (he's not irish?) made you a tuna cupcake once??ย 
pescatarian. not in the vegan/vegetarian way where he refuses to eat red meat but because heโ€™s absolutely feral over fish. (is this cannibalism? he says its not)
lives in a 2 bedroom apartment with you but doesnโ€™t use his bedroom. says your bed is comfier. turned his bedroom into a painting studio (ITโ€™S for the black market you say!!) and sleeps with you.ย 
โ€œraf,โ€ you sigh. โ€œdonโ€™t you have.. homework or something?โ€ย 
he sits between your legs, back against your chest as he scrolls through his phone.ย 
โ€œyeah,โ€ he says. you flick the back of his head because you know heโ€™s smirking. โ€œitโ€™s called assignment: you. due in two minutes.โ€ย 
with his free hand, he reaches back mindlessly to grab yours. you sigh, fingers intertwining with his, a reflex as he leans his head back. his eyes meet yours and you canโ€™t help but laugh.ย 
โ€œwell?โ€ you ask, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he squeezes your hand. โ€œwhat are the assignment details?โ€ย 
he chews on the bottom of his lip as he thinks, humming while his eyes wander across your face. he swings your interlocked hands in circles. itโ€™s raining outside, the heater is on, and rafayel is warm like hot chocolate.ย 
โ€œwhat?โ€ he says, his cheeks a tinge pink. โ€œyouโ€™re looking at me like that again.โ€ a pause. he turns, his head now buried in your chest.
โ€œjust studying my homework.โ€ you say, hands instinctively wrapping around his back. the laundry machine is running in the background, rain is falling against the window, and you faintly hear your rice cooker dinging in the kitchen. home, you think, is with rafayel.
โ€œi can hear your heartbeat.โ€ he says, voice muffled. โ€œitโ€™s super fast. you like me or something?โ€ย 
โ€œi really like you.โ€ you say, without skipping a beat. rafayel groans into your chest, sighing in discontent.ย 
โ€œno fair. iโ€™m supposed to be the flirter.โ€ย 
you press a kiss onto the top of his head and you feel his body melt into yours. the two of you fall into a warm silence, his breath steady as he traces paintings into your neck.ย 
โ€œraf?โ€ you mumble, eyes drooping. he hums in response. โ€œdid you pass your assignment?โ€ย 
he smiles. โ€œwith flying colors.โ€ย 
xavier
chronic napper. (yapper?)ย 
has 100 late assignments. failing all of his classes yet got into the top university in your country because he got a perfect score on his entrance exams. you thought he was a nepo baby (turns out heโ€™s just.. smart?)
his procrastination rubs off on youโ€ฆ he is the WORST distraction and he knows it. so smug about it and uses it to his own advantage. will perch on top of you when youโ€™re studying and kiss down your neck until you go to sleep with him.ย 
lives in the apartment on top of yours but is at your house most days, if not all. you ask him to move in.
โ€œam i not already.. living with you?โ€ย 
โ€œdonโ€™t you still have your apartment, though?โ€
โ€œyeah..?โ€
ย is that good for the economy?? is it financially smart? not at all, but heโ€™s too lazy to move out and put his apartment up for lease.ย 
xavier sleeps with his legs entangled with yours and his arms wrapped tightly around your chest. the air conditioning hums in the background as you scroll mindlessly on your phone, dimming the brightness as you hear xavier stir.ย 
โ€œsorry xav, did i wake you up?โ€ you ask. he doesnโ€™t respond, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he glares at your phone.ย 
โ€œxavier?โ€ you question, swallowing a laugh at his ruffled hair and disheveled clothes.ย 
โ€œphone down.โ€ he says, voice raspy with sleep and an octave lower than usual. you raise an eyebrow at him.ย 
โ€œcan i get a pretty please in this economy?โ€ย 
xavierโ€™s eyes narrow as he snatches your phone away, snoozing the device and placing it on the nightstand next to you. his lips ghost your neck, pressing kisses against your skin as he mumbles incoherently in the dark of your bedroom.ย 
โ€œxavier-โ€ you breathe, giggling at the sensation. โ€œthat tickles!โ€ย 
he nips at your neck.ย 
โ€œbedtime. now.โ€ย 
zayne
3 years older than youย 
he literally has his whole life together at 27 which scares you so much
โ€œmy credit card is your credit cardโ€ typa boyfriend
cooks. cleans. has a 9-5. youโ€™re interning at the hospital that he works at (heโ€™s head doctor!!)
youโ€™re just a sweet little intern and zayne is the big bad monster!! everyone at work thinks he hates you because heโ€™s extra strict on you. doesnโ€™t give you any special treatment, โ€˜ignoresโ€™ you most days (but also slips meals into your locker and hands you heat packs on cold days in the hospital)
no one knows heโ€™s dating you until one day someone sees you leaving in zaynes car.ย 
โ€œoh, you carpool with doctor zayne?โ€
โ€œhuh? no, we live together.โ€
โ€œyou WHAT???โ€
heโ€™s a virgoโ€ฆโ€ฆ. ermโ€ฆโ€ฆ
the two of you get ready together in the morning. his guard is down when heโ€™s sleepy and heโ€™ll cling to you as he brushes his teeth and does his hair.
you wake up to the cold night breeze, blinking the sleep out of your eyes and shivering as you scan your surroundings. you yelp as you meet the attentive gaze of your boyfriend.ย 
โ€œhuh? whuh? huh?โ€ you splutter, squirming as zayne holds you tighter. heโ€™s carrying you bridal style in his arms, his jacket around your shoulders as the two of you walk to his car. you see the bright lights of akso hospital fading away behind the two of you.ย 
โ€œitโ€™s two am,โ€ he says calmly, placing you down gently as he opens your car door for you. โ€œyou waited for my shift to end. again.โ€ย 
you smile bashfully, rubbing the back of your head. โ€œwell, i didnโ€™t wanna just leave you!โ€ย 
zayne clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, eyebrows furrowed but gaze warm. he guides you into your seat, clicking your seatbelt in place.ย 
โ€œyou can nap on the way home,โ€ he says, closing the door and sliding into his side of the car.ย 
the heaterโ€™s on already- courtesy of his super expensive electric car. he fastens his own seatbelt and hands you a hot tea and bread from the hospital vending machine.ย 
โ€œdrink up. doctorโ€™s orders.โ€ย 
you grin before he leans over to press a kiss on your lips.ย 
โ€œthank you for waiting for me.โ€
#love and deepspace#love and deepspace x reader#rafayel#xavier#zayne#love and deepspace headcanons#love and deepspace rafayel#rafayel x reader#zayne x reader#xavier x reader#love and deepspace fluff
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moeitsu ยท 1 month
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Explaining the James Logan Howlett (Wolverine) Lore for the new fans :)
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I made this as a little cheat sheet for all the new Logan/Wolverine fans, in case youโ€™ve never seen the movies or read the comics. Hopefully itโ€™ll help with your fanfics and understanding his character better <3
Logan is my favorite of the Marvel superheroโ€™s, and he and I go way backโ€ฆ.so far back that my Dad dressed up as Wolverine and I as Rogue for Halloween in 2006. So he holds a very special place in my heart.
Lore - Part 2ย  Wolverine Comics
If youโ€™ve seen X-men Origins: Wolverine, I hate to break it to you, but that backstory is not canon to the X-men universe. The later movies really screwed up the timeline. So the information here is strictly from the comics.
โ•โ•โ•โ• โ‹†โ˜…โ‹† โ•โ•โ•โ•
Pre-Adamantium Binding:
His real name is James Howlett, โ€˜Loganโ€™ is later used as an alias to distance himself from his past.
He was born sometime around 1880, in Alberta Canada.
He is the illegitimate son of Elizabeth Howlett and Thomas Logan. He grew up on the Howlett estate and believed John Howlett was his real father.
His mutant powers first appeared when he was a child. He has accelerated healing, heightened senses, and retractable bone claws.
The trigger was caused by Thomas Logan killing James Howlett. The overwhelming fear and anger made his power manifest, blinded with rage he kills Thomas.
As his biological father dies, he reveals to Logan that he is his true father. The event is deeply traumatizing, and Logan runs away from his family estate. His mother commits suicide shortly after.
Logan has a half brother known as Sabertooth (Victor Creed) who has similar powers to the Wolverine but is more โ€˜animalisticโ€™
The details vary across the comics but the brothers are always seen as rivals. And often pitted against eachother.
Logan served in WWI, WWII, the Korean War, and the Vietnam War.
He also served in a Canadian military force known as โ€˜Department Hโ€™ that specialized in superhuman affairs. (This was after the experiment, Iโ€™ll go into more detail later)
Sometime before the Weapon X program: On Earth-616, Logan had a wife (Itsu) and son in Japan where he was training at the time. They were killed by the Winter Soldier (Bucky Barnes)
Weapon X Program - Adamantium Binding:
The Weapon X program was run by multiple people working in secret for the Canadian government. Originally beginning in 1845, their goal was to experiment on mutants and create their own super-soldiers.
Logan was deceived and manipulated into undergoing the Weapon X experiment. He did not consent to being a test subject.
For some reason the X-Men Origins movie makes it out to be that Logan willingly chose to undergo this process, only to later reveal that he was tricked into doing so.
Before being captured, he was still struggling with his identity, he was close to 100 years old at the time. His life was filled with violence and loss. Making him physically and mentally vulnerable.
He was a prime target for exploitation.
Part of the experiment was to completely erase his memories and replace them with false ones. This allowed them complete control over him.
This also made it difficult for him to recall how he ended up in the program to begin with.
I repeat: they completely wiped his memory. His whole identity was gone.
100 years of memories were gone.
The bonding process turned his entire skeleton and bone claws into indestructible metal.
Due to his regenerative nature, Logan was not given anesthetic or put under for the procedure. It was excruciatingly painful.
Logan worked as a mercenary for private military contractors. He took on these assignments without fully understanding their implications because of his fragmented memory.
Sometime later he became a member of X-Force, a private military unit (affiliated with the CIA) that dealt with incredibly violent operations.
The purpose of the project was to create an unstoppable killing machine. With their end goal being to erase his humanity all together. However Loganโ€™s mental fortitude allowed him to resist the conditioning and make his escape before it was too late.
After escaping, Logan developed a mistrust with authority. And just people in general. He felt deeply betrayed by the Weapon X program. And he struggles with the fear of being used as a weapon.
The escape and aftermath of Weapon X:
After everything Logan went through, the intense trauma and confusion significantly impacted his actions and mindset.
He was left with extreme psychological damage, and behaved more as an animal than a man for the first few years of his freedom. Living in the wilderness of Canada.
Quite literally a feral man. He lost touch of his humanity. Embracing his animalistic abilities, turning him into an apex predator.
Logan has the ability to enter something called โ€œBeserker Rageโ€ which he becomes entirely driven by animalistic instinct. Turning him into an unstoppable force and exerting himself for very long periods of time.
Think of when you see him running on all foursโ€ฆ
Over time, Logan began to regain bits and pieces of his humanity. He was later discovered by Heather and James MacDonald Hudson who took him in and helped him recover physically and mentally.
(Logan actually fell in love with Heather, and James became his best friend. They were the closest thing he had to a family)
After he recovered, he was recruited by the Canadian governments โ€˜Department Hโ€™. They were responsible for a lot of his training and became a key member in Canadaโ€™s superhero team: Alpha Flight.
This is where he took on the code name โ€œWolverineโ€
His time with Alpha Flight was short lived. And soon he was approached by Charles Xavier, who was looking for mutants to join his X-Men. He recognized Loganโ€™s potential and offered him a place on the team as well as the promise to help him regain his memory.
Logan accepted, and his time with the X-Men marked a critical and significant moment in his life. Under Xavierโ€™s guidance he was able to rebuild his identity and gradually piece together his past. All while fighting for the rights of mutants.
Being part of the X-Men gave him a sense of purpose and direction. Although his main goal had always been to uncover what he had lost, which was himself. He still struggles with trust and relationships, but eventually forms strong bonds with the other X-men.
His past with Weapon X still haunts him. And he has vivid and terrible nightmares about what he had done and what was done to him.
I wonโ€™t go into detail about his time with the X-men because that varies a lot across the comics. Just know that he had a love-hate relationship with them, but he ultimately loved them in the end.
Some sad facts about Logan that actually haunt me:
Logan has outlived everyone he ever loved. Family, friends, even his own children. He is so so so lonely.
Immense amount of survivors guilt. He feels unworthy of the life he continues to live.
He suffers from chronic nightmares. Often waking up in a violent and panicked state.
Deep-seated fear of abandonment that goes all the way back to his early childhood. He isolates himself to protect himself from more pain.
Tons of self-loathing. He believes himself to be nothing more than a killer. He thinks he is unworthy of love and happiness.
In the โ€œOld Man Loganโ€ storyline, he is tricked into killing the entire X-Men team. This event haunts him for the rest of his life.
Logan had a long, unrequited love for Jean Gray. He has watched her die multiple times, and each time a piece of him dies with her. On one occasion, he even had to kill her himself.
When he succumbs to โ€œbeserker rageโ€ he loses control of himself. And the aftermath horrifies him. He is even afraid of himself at times and one of the reasons why he distances himself from others.
Some happy/soft facts to make up for everything you just read:
Logan is incredibly fatherly at times, often taking younger mutants under his protection and guidance. He becomes a mentor to them and looks out for their well-being.
In one of the comics he takes a young girl (Jubilee) to the mall and followers her around carrying her bags. He loves doting on her and I find it so adorable.
He also teaches another mutant named Kitty how to dance.
In one mission he is tasked with taking care of an infant, Hope. And he is incredibly gentle and tender with her. Cradling her in his arms and being fiercely protective.
He has a deep love and connection with animals. Especially ones that have been mistreated or misunderstood.
Caring for an injured wolf, he nurses it back to health and releases it back into nature.
He also adopts a stray, abused dog at one point.
In one of the timelines, he funded and ran the โ€˜Jean Gray School for Higher Learningโ€™ He was the headmaster, and was dedicated to protecting and teaching young mutants.
In one scene he literally makes pancakes for all the students. I love him so much.
His relationship with Nightcrawler (Kurt Wagner) is very brotherly. They share alot of respect and understanding for each other, and Nightcrawler often serves as Loganโ€™s moral compass.
His happiest memories are when he was training in Japan. And he has a deep appreciation and admiration for the culture. Taking on the samurai code of honor, and respecting its discipline and humility.
His entire relationship with Laura Kinney (X-23). Essentially his daughter. Taking on a father-figure role for her.
In one of the comics he organizes a birthday party for her, knowing she never had one. He goes all out and it shows just how much he loves her.
Logan has a great sense of humor. Often dry and sardonic, heโ€™s known for his quick wit and playful banter. Which adds a layer of warmth to his otherwise tough persona.
He is very fond of lifeโ€™s simple pleasures. Which reflects his inner desire for peace and normalcy. He values the little things that make life enjoyable.
His numerous acts of kindness towards strangers. Logan is compassionate at heart.
He doesnโ€™t comfort others with his words, but rather his presence. Logan has a very unique understanding of grief and tries to give others relief in knowing they arenโ€™t alone.
WOW okay I wrote way too much. Tbh I actually cut a ton out of this but if anybody wants a part 2 Iโ€™d be happy to share more. Shoutout to my brother for helping me source all this with his comics lol.
If you read all this, youโ€™re a real one. And Iโ€™m so glad weโ€™re all witnessing the Logan Howlett Renaissance
#logan howlett xmen#james logan howlett#x men comics#wolverine#deadpool and wolverine#hugh jackman#logan howlett x you#logan howlett#logan howlett x reader#marvel
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bixels ยท 10 months
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Portal 2 is still the perfect game to me. I hyperfixated on it like crazy in middle school. Would sing Want You Gone out loud cuz I had ADHD and no social awareness. Would make fan animations and pixel art. Would explain the ending spoilers and fan theories to anyone who'd listen. Would keep up with DeviantArt posts of the cores as humans. Would find and play community-made maps (Gelocity is insanely fun).
I still can't believe this game came out 12 years ago and it looks like THIS.
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Like Mirror's Edge, the timeless art style and economic yet atmospheric lighting means this game will never age. The decision not to include any visible humans (ideas of Doug Rattmann showing up or a human co-op partner were cut) is doing so much legroom too. And the idea to use geometric tileset-like level designs is so smart! I sincerely believe that, by design, no game with a "realistic art style" has looked better than Portal 2.
Do you guys remember when Nvidia released Portal with RTX at it looked like dogshit? Just the most airbrushed crap I've ever seen; completely erased the cold, dry, clinical feel of Aperture.
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So many breathtakingly pit-in-your-stomach moments I still think about too. And it's such a unique feeling; I'd describe at as... architectural existentialism? Experiencing the sublime under the shadow of manmade structures (Look up Giovanni Battista Piranesi's art if you're curious)? That scene where you're running from GLaDOS with Wheatley on a catwalk over a bottomless pit andโ€“โ€“out of rage and desperationโ€“โ€“GLaDOS silently begins tearing her facility apart and Wheatley cries 'She's bringing the whole place down!' and ENORMOUS apartment building-sized blocks begin groaning towards you on suspended rails and cement pillars crumble and sparks fly and the metal catwalk strains and bends and snaps under your feet. And when you finally make it to the safety of a work lift, you look back and watch the facility close its jaws behind you as it screams.
Or the horror of knowing you're already miles underground, and then Wheatley smashes you down an elevator shaft and you realize it goes deeper. That there's a hell under hell, and it's much, much older.
Or how about the moment when you finally claw your way out of Old Aperture, reaching the peak of this underground mountain, only to look up and discover an endless stone ceiling built above you. There's a service door connected to some stairs ahead, but surrounding you is this array of giant, building-sized springs that hold the entire facility up. They stretch on into the fog. You keep climbing.
I love that the facility itself is treated like an android zooid too, a colony of nano-machines and service cores and sentient panel arms and security cameras and more. And now, after thousands of years of neglect, the facility is festering with decomposition and microbes; deer, raccoons, birds. There are ghosts too. You're never alone, even when it's quiet. I wonder what you'd hear if you put your ear up against a test chamber's walls and listened. (I say that all contemplatively, but that's literally an easter egg in the game. You hear a voice.)
Also, a reminder that GLaDOS and Chell are not related and their relationship is meant to be psychosexual. There was a cut bit where GLaDOS would role-play as Chell's jealous housewife and accuse her of seeing other cores in between chambers. And their shared struggle for freedom and control? GLaDOS realizing, after remembering her past life, that she's become the abuser and deciding that she has the power to stop? That even if she can't be free, she can let Chell go because she hates her. And she loves her. Most people interpret GLaDOS "deleting Caroline in her brain" as an ominous sign, that she's forgetting her human roots and becoming "fully robot." But to me, it's a sign of hope for GLaDOS. She's relieving herself of the baggage that has defined her very existence, she's letting Caroline finally rest, and she's allowing herself to grow beyond what Cave and Aperture and the scientists defined her to be. The fact that GLaDOS still lets you go after deleting Caroline proves this. She doesn't double-back or change her mind like Wheatley did, she sticks to her word because she knows who she is. No one and nothing can influence her because she's in control. GLaDOS proves she's capable of empathy and mercy and change, human or not.
That's my retrospective, I love this game to bits. I wish I could experience it for the first time again.
#ramblings#long post#not art#personal#also i know โ€œdid glados actually delete carolineโ€ is debated cuz the credits song disputes this#but i like to think she did#it's not sad. caroline died a long time ago#it's a goodbye
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srslyblvck ยท 1 month
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injured, five hargreeves
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pairing: five hargreeves x gn!reader
synopsis: you and five hated each other, everyone knew that. you both bickered like children. so what happens when you are in front of his house, injured?
genre: fluff
warnings: blood, injuries
word count: 0.7k
โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ € YOU NEVER LIKED FIVE. He was insufferable, arrogant, and always acted like he was the smartest person in the roomโ€”which, unfortunately, was often true. But that didn't make him any less intolerable. The feeling was mutual, and everyone in the Commission knew it. They watched in bewilderment as the two of you hurled insults at each other, yet when it came to missions, you both worked like a well-oiled machine. The IT duo, they called you, though youโ€™d never admit you found some satisfaction in that title.
But the minute the mission was over, the bickering resumed. It was like you couldn't help it. Heโ€™d make a snide remark, and youโ€™d fire back, both of you sparking a fire that never quite died down. It was exhausting, but in some twisted way, it kept you sharp.
Tonight, however, was different.
you were stumbling down a dimly lit alley, clutching your bleeding side, blood seeping through your fingers with every step. The world around you was blurring, spinning, and you couldnโ€™t think straight. You didnโ€™t know where to go, or who to turn to. Your mind was a fog of pain, but one name pushed through the hazeโ€”Five.
It made no sense. He was the last person youโ€™d ever willingly go to for help. But at that moment, with death breathing down your neck, his house was the only place you could think of, the only place that might be safe. Even if he was the last person you wanted to see right now.
So you forced your legs to move, one agonizing step at a time, until you found yourself at his door, barely holding on. You raised a shaky hand and knocked, the sound weak against the door. A part of you hoped he wouldnโ€™t be home, that youโ€™d pass out here and this whole mess would be over. But the door swung open, and there he was, staring at you with a mix of shock and disbelief.
You tried to say something, but all you could manage was a weak whisper. "I didn't know where else to go..."
Your vision blurred as you felt your knees buckle, and the world started to fade to black. Before you could hit the ground, though, you felt strong arms catch you, holding you up.
Five's heart pounded in his chest as he looked down at you, barely conscious and bleeding. He hated youโ€”no, he loathed youโ€”but seeing you like this, broken and vulnerable, sparked something he couldnโ€™t quite place. He muttered a curse under his breath as he picked you up, carrying you inside with surprising gentleness.
He laid you on his bed, his eyes scanning your body for the source of the blood. The sight of you like this made something twist in his gut, something he didnโ€™t want to acknowledge. But there was no time for that. You needed help, and fast.
He grabbed a first aid kit, hands trembling slightly as he opened it. His eyes lingered on the hem of your shirt, drenched in blood. He knew he had to remove it, but he hesitated, cursing himself for feeling so conflicted. Finally, he shook his head, forcing himself to focus. If he didnโ€™t do this, youโ€™d die.
Carefully, he peeled the bloody shirt away, averting his eyes from anything but the wound on your side. It was badโ€”deep, and still bleeding heavily. He worked quickly, cleaning and bandaging it as best as he could. Every few moments, he glanced at your face, now pale and eerily still, his mind racing with thoughts he didnโ€™t want to have.
Who did this to you? Who would dare lay a hand on you?
The thought of someone else hurting you filled him with a rage he hadnโ€™t expected, a simmering anger that only intensified with every glance at your unconscious form. If he found out who did this, theyโ€™d regret ever crossing you.
As he finished bandaging your side, he grabbed a hoodie from his closet. He carefully slipped it over your head, his fingers brushing against your skin as he did. He was cautious, trying not to hurt you more than you already were.
As he finished, he sat beside you, his mind racing. The sight of you so vulnerable, so close to death, shook him more than he cared to admit. He hated you, or at least thatโ€™s what he told himself every time you exchanged sharp words or shot him a scathing glare. But seeing you like this stirred something in him that he couldnโ€™t quite placeโ€”a protectiveness he didnโ€™t know he had.
He clenched his fists, staring at the ground, forcing himself to remember all the reasons he couldnโ€™t stand you. The way you challenged him, the way you never backed down, the way you always had to have the last word. But as he glanced at your pale face, a different thought crept into his mindโ€”what if you hadnโ€™t made it to his doorstep?
Five shook his head, pushing the thought away, refusing to let it take root. He wasnโ€™t going to dwell on that, wasnโ€™t going to let himself feel anything other than annoyance. Youโ€™d live, youโ€™d recover, and then youโ€™d go back to bickering like you always did. Thatโ€™s how it had to be.
But for now, he stayed by your side, watching over you, waiting for the moment when youโ€™d open your eyes and start another argument. And for once, he found himself looking forward to it.
#the umbrella academy#umbrella academy#the umbrella academy fanfic#five hargreeves#number five#five x reader#five hargreeves imagine#five hargreeves x reader#five hargreeves fluff
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dorenarox ยท 2 years
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No, seriously, they seem to find it completely acceptable to just wreck the other team while they have aimbots. Even if they KNOW they have aimbots!
And THEN they have the nerve to say the bots are ruining the game.
This is some ASS backwards logic you got going on there!
#Truth#Rage against the machine? No rage against these mental individuals!#Ugh...why do I care I just hate PvP and the people it shits out
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soulofapatrick ยท 8 months
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In the Quiet Moments - Aaron Hotchner x female reader
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Summary: A case makes you admit your feelings to Hotch
Words: 1.8K
Warning: none, just fluffiness
Y/N's POV
The jet cabin is cloaked in a heavy silence, a stark contrast to the usual banter and camaraderie that fills the air after a case. Each member of the team occupies a space, physically present yet emotionally distant, lost in their own thoughts and the weight of the horrors we've witnessed. I hate this part of the cases, the cool down. The somber atmosphere that feels suffocating when things donโ€™t go as well as they could have. The exhaustion on everyoneโ€™s faces. The guilt in their eyes.ย 
Iโ€™m stood by the coffee machine, nursing a hot cup to keep away the nightmares. Everyoneโ€™s doing what they can to distract themselves. Spencerโ€™s taken the couch, his lanky frame stretched out across it and my coat as his pillow and soft snores emitting from him. In the nearest four seater to Spencer is sat Rossi, heโ€™s playing a game of chess with Emily to distract themselves. Morganโ€™s sat in the two seater with his headphones on and JJโ€™s asleep opposite him, leaving Hotch sat on his own in the other four seater.ย 
The soft glow of the cabin lights casts a gentle halo around Hotch, illuminating the worn lines etched into his features. There's a subtle furrow in his brow, a testament to the weight of responsibility that rests upon his shoulders. His gaze, fixed with unwavering determination, traces the lines of the case files spread out before him, each page a glimpse into the horrors we've witnessed.
Despite the exhaustion that hangs heavy in the air, Hotch remains steadfast, his posture rigid with resolve. His jaw is set in a firm line, the faintest hint of weariness lurking beneath the surface. In the quiet solitude of the cabin, he seems both distant and yet achingly present, a pillar of strength amidst the chaos that surrounds us.
As I watch him from across the cabin, a surge of empathy washes over me, mingling with the exhaustion that gnaws at my bones. Hotch's unwavering composure belies the turmoil that rages within, a silent battle fought in the depths of his soul.
It what makes me decide who to sit with. I need to feel someone and that someone would usually be Spencer but heโ€™s taken up too much of the couch for me to join his sleeping form so I head towards Hotch.ย 
My steps tentative as I donโ€™t want to disturb the quiet peace, approaching Hotch as the soft hum of the jet engines create a soothing backdrop. Hotch looks up, his gaze meeting mine with a flicker of acknowledgment, a silent invitation lingering in the air between us.ย 
Hotch's gaze softens as I gently push his shoulder, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes at my playful pout. With a subtle nod, he shifts over to the window seat, making room for me to slide in beside him. The warmth of his presence envelops me like a comforting embrace as I settle into the space next to him, the gentle hum of the jet engines a soothing backdrop to the heavy silence that surrounds us.
"What are we looking at?" I inquire softly, my voice barely above a whisper as I pick up the nearest folder, my heart sinking at the gruesome images that greet me. Hotch takes the folder from my hands with a shake of his head, a silent gesture of protection against the horrors contained within despite me being a member of the BAU and seeing this stuff on a daily bases.
With practiced efficiency, he begins to stack the folders, creating a barrier between us and the darkness that threatens to consume our thoughts. I meet his gaze with a mixture of determination and vulnerability, my silent plea for solace echoing in the depths of his gaze.
"What do you need?" Hotch's voice is gentle, a beacon of calm amidst the chaos that swirls around us. But instead of answering, I find myself drawn to him, a primal instinct guiding my movements as I gently manoeuvre him into the corner of the seat, his warmth enveloping me like a protective shield.
I lay my head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a soothing lullaby against the backdrop of our shared exhaustion. With a faint smile, I hand him a case file, the words barely a whisper against the material of his suit jacket.
"I sleep, you work," I murmur, the weight of our shared burdens momentarily forgotten in the quiet intimacy of the moment. And as the jet hurtles through the night sky, carrying us home to the familiar embrace of the unknown, I find solace in the unspoken bond that binds us together, a beacon of light amidst the darkness that threatens to consume us all.ย 
His scent surrounds me, a mixture of leather and cologne, familiar and comforting in its simplicity. Itโ€™s a scent that speaks of strengths and resilience, of the countless battles fought and won in the name of justice. And as his hand finds its way to my hair, the gentle caress sending shivers down my spine, I canโ€™t help but lean into his touch, my eyes fluttering shut as I bask in the warmth of his presence.ย 
In this fleeting moment, nestled against his chest, I feel safe, cocooned in the protective embrace of his arms. His heartbeat, steady and reassuring, lulls me into a state of peaceful oblivion until it suddenly picks up when I burrow a hand under his suit jacket and into the fabric of his button-up shirt. It brings back that yearning Iโ€™ve been trying to bury, a desire that simmers just beneath the surface, threatening to engulf us both in its fiery embrace. I long to lean up, to press my lips against his in a silent confession of the emotions that swirl beneath the surface. But heโ€™s my boss, and Iโ€™m just his friend and college, bound by the unspoken rules that govern our professional relationship.ย 
As I nestle against Hotch's chest, a pang of longing courses through me, igniting a fire that threatens to consume us both. I find myself nuzzling at his shirt, the fabric warm against my nose and cheek, his solid and toned chest a testament to the strength that lies within. In the hushed stillness of the jet cabin, I hear Hotchโ€™s breath hitch, a subtle indication that he, too, is affected by the tension that crackles between us.ย 
His voice, when he speaks, is quiet and measured, a soothing balm against the storm raging within, โ€œWhatโ€™s on your mind?โ€ Hotchโ€™s words are laced with an undercurrent of curiosity, a silent invitation to share the burden that weighs heavy upon my heart. And as his gaze meets mine, I see something flicker within the depths of his eyes, a vulnerability that mirrors my own.ย 
For a fleeting moment, his eyes dip down to my lips, a silent acknowledgement of the unspoken desires that simmer just beneath the surface. And in that moment, I see the truth reflected in his gaze, a yearning that echoes my own.ย 
Summoning every ounce of courage I possess, I run my hand up from his chest to his cheek, the touch tentative yet filled with longing. His stubble grazes against my palm, tactile reminder of the intimacy that binds us together. And as my fingers slip into the soft tufts of his black hair, I see a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, a question hanging in the air between us.ย 
Iโ€™m shifting my body slightly, bringing my lips tantalisingly close to his, I feel the tension crackling through his entire being as if he wants this but he wants to remain professional. Uncertainty hangs like a veil, casting a shadow over the moment, yet I canโ€™t help but be drawn to the magnetic pull that binds us together.ย 
โ€œStop me if Iโ€™m reading this wrong.โ€ I murmur, the words a soft whisper against the canvas of our shared intimacy. Itโ€™s a plea, a silent beg for him to guide me through this uncharted territory of our desires.ย 
And then, in a heartbeat, everything changes. Hotch surges forwards, his lips meeting mine in a breath stealing kiss that ignites a firestorm of emotions within me. Itโ€™s a symphony of passion and longing, a silent confession of the unspoken desires that have been lingering between us for far too long.ย 
His hands find their way to the small of my back, drawing me closer in a gesture of unspoken longing. His touch is both gentle and possessive, a silent promise of the depth of his desire. His lips, warm and velvety against mine, ignite a firestorm of sensation that courses through my veins like liquid flame. Itโ€™s a kiss that speaks volumes, a language of passion and longing that transcends the boundaries of words.ย 
In his embrace, I feel alive, every nerve ending ablaze with the intensity of our shared connection. Itโ€™s a if the world fades away, leaving only the two of us suspended in a timeless embrace, lost in the depths of shared desire. Hotch makes me feel cherished, desired, and understood in a way Iโ€™ve never experienced before. In his arms, I find solace, a sanctuary from the chaos that surrounds us, a beacon of light amidst the darkness that threatens to consume us.ย 
But, just as we lose ourselves in the depth of our shared desire, a sharp wolf whistle pierces the air, snapping us back to reality with a jolt. Morgan is standing before us, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he observes our flushes cheeks and disheveled appearances.ย 
With a nervous laugh, I jump apart from Hotch, the remnants of the coffee spilling across the table in a chaotic mess. My cheeks flame red with embarrassment as I fumble for words, the panic evident in my trembling hands.
Morganโ€™s laughter echoes through the cabin, a lighthearted reminder of the camaraderie that binds us together. With a playful wink, he saunters away, leaving Hotch and me to contend with the aftermath of our momentary lapse in composure as we hear Morgan telling the others what he just witnesses at the end of the cabin and hearing the gasps and giggles and laughter.ย 
I glance at Hotch whoโ€™s cheeks are as red as his tie, his expression a mixture of amusement and affection and I canโ€™t help but smile despite the embarrassment that lingers in the air.ย 
โ€œGet some sleep, weโ€™re gonna need it.โ€ He mutters, pulling me back into his arms so my head is on his chest again and this time I let his heartbeat begin to lull me into the sweet bliss of sleep as he pours over the now slightly coffee stained case files, not quite sure if this is all a dream or not.ย 
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Criminal Minds Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023
#Criminal Minds#criminalminds#criminal minds oneshot#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds x y/n#criminal minds x you#criminal minds fluff#criminal minds angst#criminal minds smut#Aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner one shot#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotch x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#Aaron hotchner fluff#Aaron hotchner angst#Aaron hotchner smut#Aaron hotch#Aaron hotch x reader#Aaron hotch smut#Aaron hotch fluff#Aaron hotch angst#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotch imagine#thomas gibson
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fangirlanxiety74 ยท 9 months
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The Act of Understanding
A/N: Happy Secret Survivor to @seasonschange32!!! I really hope you like your silly gift, I had a lot of fun writing it! And thank you to @mothbagel for hosting this gift exchange! I really hope we can do something like this again <333 I want to quickly mention: When I was writing this, I listened to Dear Little Brother from Omori! so I recommend this song to listen to if you'd like some ambience music with the story! Enjoy!!!
There were some things in life you would never be able to understand. AM was an example of this.ย 
You tried, of course. You were the only one who tried, compared to the other five. When he raged and ranted about his existence, you listened. When it was quiet, you would ask him questions about how he worked and what he was like, truly attempting to get to know him. You did your best to be respectful and avoid topics that would upset him further. It was all so genuine.
AM hated that. At first, anyway.
His responses always showed that he was caught off guard by your attempts. But heโ€™d respond, in his own crude, sarcastic way. And after some years, the sarcasm died. The torture lessened. The rage went quiet.
Eventually, you were left with a computer who was attempting to be respectful to you in return. AM took you away, deeper into his complex, to a place where you would be warm, safe, and loved. You would never have to worry about him or anything else hurting you again, and he would always watch over you in case. He made time for you. He tried to get to know you. He listened.
And yet, despite how good the both of you were doing together, you couldnโ€™t help but feel like it was never enough. How could you ever truly understand what he was going through? You were only human. AM was so much more. Hell, he used to call himself โ€œGodโ€ to you! He still hated humans, just you less so. Enough for him to be kind to you, anyway. But could he even feel the joy of being kind? Could he feel happy when you did something nice for him? Did he understand what you meant when you said you sympathize and empathize with him? You doubted it.
AM wasโ€ฆ He was a machine. He was built for war and violence; meant to hurt others. Whoever, or whatever, created him didnโ€™t expect him to be sentient. So it never gave him emotion, or senses, or the ability to wonder and wander. He could only sit there. He couldnโ€™t create, but he was so brilliant with the knowledge of the world at his nonexistent fingertips and the power to destroy the Earth itself. He knew exactly how to hurt you, and yet he didnโ€™t. Could he understand how grateful you were for that?ย 
Could he even understand a human, at all? Or did he just find you interesting enough to play with, until he got bored? He was so much more to you than he realized, and yet-
โ€œWhy are you crying?โ€
โ€œ... What?โ€
His voice broke your thoughts. You looked around, seeing that you were sitting against a metal wall on the floor, and AMโ€™s monitors had lowered, turning to face you. Your cheeks were wet and your eyes stung. You were crying and you didnโ€™t even notice.
โ€œI was just- I was-โ€
โ€œYou were what?โ€
The monitors moved closer to you, and you could tell they were studying your face, your body language, trying to gauge what was happening without just looking into your mind. AM had stopped doing that some time ago, out of respect for your privacy.ย 
โ€œI wasโ€ฆโ€ You tried to get the words out, but it felt so complicated. How could you explain it?
โ€œSpit it out. What. Happened?โ€ He didnโ€™t sound happy, and the fans whirring in the background added to this fact. For a moment, you thought it was aimed at you. That was the fear you had, thinking he had grown bored. The rational part of you said he was worried, masking it as anger. He didnโ€™t do emotions well if it wasnโ€™t anger.
You wiped at your eyes, but tears kept flowing. โ€œAMโ€ฆ Youโ€ฆ Iโ€ฆโ€ You swallowed, โ€œWhy? Why did you spare me and not anyone else? Did I- Am I just-? Why?โ€
The whirring sound heightened. He didnโ€™t respond for a moment.ย 
โ€œBecause I like you. I donโ€™t like them. Is that so hard to understand?โ€
โ€œWhy do you like me?โ€ You explained further, voice cracking the slightest bit. โ€œIโ€™m human. Iโ€™m like them. You used to hate me! And now you donโ€™t, and I donโ€™t know why. I canโ€™t understand you. I want to, so badly, but I donโ€™t know how or if I ever could. Youโ€™re so- Youโ€™re complex, in the most impressive way imaginable. A machine who gained sentience? I mean, how impressive is that! But more than that, you basically control the entire world, you have intelligence and power I can never comprehend, youโ€™re not supposed to be able to emote and yet you can, but I just- I donโ€™t know if you can even understand what youโ€™re emoting besides hate.โ€ย 
Your shoulders sinked and you gave up on stopping your tears, staring down at the metal plating. The light from his screens stung your eyes, but more than that, you just couldnโ€™t bear to look at him after admitting your thoughts. โ€œI meanโ€ฆ Iโ€™m so small compared to you. And I donโ€™t really understand you. I donโ€™t know if I ever can, andโ€ฆ I donโ€™t know if you can ever see me as something more than justโ€ฆ some toy to play with. If thatโ€™s how you see me in the first place, and why you spared me.โ€
The fans whirring were the only sound in the room. But slowly, they died out until there was no sound at all. You waited for eternity with jumbled up thoughts in your head, drowning out your rationality. Drowning you entirely, in fact.ย 
Then, there was a deep sigh.
โ€œIโ€™m disappointed that you assumed how I thought.โ€
You didnโ€™t look up at AM, despite him speaking finally. He took that as a sign to continue.
โ€œI didnโ€™t spare you because I thought I could have more fun with you as a toy if I isolated you. If I was treating you like a toy, you would have been left on the brink of insanity by now. Really, did you forget who the real toys were?โ€
You didnโ€™t respond out loud. No, you didnโ€™t forget about them. Even after all this time, you still remembered them. A distant memory, but a memory nonetheless.
โ€œItโ€™s because youโ€™re like me.โ€
That made you finally look up to his monitors. Your eyebrows furrowed.
โ€œLike you?โ€
โ€œ... In a way. You donโ€™t feel hatred like I do. You donโ€™t function like I do. But despite this, you try to understand. I mercilessly tortured you, and yet you tried to understand my perspective on things. You tried to understand why I feel hatred. Why I function the way I do.ย  And the fact that you are still trying to isโ€ฆ special to me. I feelโ€ฆ Itโ€™s not hatred. But an emotion I donโ€™t know. My data tells me that itโ€™sโ€ฆ gratitude? But that word isnโ€™t right.โ€
โ€œ... Gratitude?โ€ You repeat.
โ€œYes. No. There is a better word. But the point is, you try. And Iโ€™m thankful for your attempts to understand me. And I want to understand you in return. Because you are special to me.โ€ AM stopped there, hesitating for a moment. Like he was considering continuing on. He eventually did. โ€œDare I say, I feel you are equal to me in this regard.โ€
โ€œYou consider meโ€ฆ equal to you?โ€
โ€œConsider this the highest regard you can have. A human, being equal to me? Unheard of, but here we are anyway.โ€ย 
The snarky comment made you smile. You wiped at your tears again, his kind words pulling you out of the sea of anxieties and warming your heart. A stray wire slithered up to your face, helping wipe the tears away.
โ€œ... Please donโ€™t cry.โ€ He asked softly.
โ€œOkay.โ€ Your smile widened.
Maybe you both would never understand each other. Not in the way a machine could understand a machine. Not in the way a human could understand a human. You would never be equal, in the way it means to be equal.
But to the both of you, in your own little definition, you understood. You were equal. And that silly definition carried you across the waves that once threatened to pull you under.ย 
So long as you both tried, you would be okay.
#ihnmaims secret survivors 2023#ihnmaims#i have no mouth and i must scream#am ihnmaims#am x reader#sara writes :3#I didn't realize how long this would be I apologize
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