#SIMULTANEOUS ATTACK

[girlactionfigure]

ISRAEL REALTIME - "Connecting the World to Israel in Realtime"

Shabbat - Parshat Vayeishev 

Starts / Ends - Jerusalem 3:59 PM - 5:14 PM

Starts / Ends - Tel Aviv 4:14 PM - 5:17 PM

Starts / Ends - Beit Shemesh 4:18 PM - 5:16 PM

Starts / Ends - Gaza 4:20 PM - 5:19 PM

HAPPY CHANUKAH ! Chanukah night 2 TONIGHT 🕎 🕎

🚨🚨 SIMULTANEOUS ATTACK

🚨ROCKETS & SUICIDE DRONE(s) from LEBANON… Kiryat Shmona and large surrounding area in the Upper Galilee.

🚨ROCKETS from GAZA… Tel Aviv and central Israel, interceptions.

🚨ROCKETS from GAZA… at the Kerem Shalom transport border terminal.  Noting this is the site the U.S. just asked Israel to open to increase aid entry into Gaza - and Hamas just tried to blow it up.

🚨INFILTRATION ALERT - KIRYAT SHMONA… Dear residents,  Due to the fear of hostile aircraft infiltrating our area (which may be cover for an infiltration or an ultralight with terrorists), we ask the residents of Kiryat Shmona who are in the city to lock themselves in their homes and stay in a protected area. Doors must be locked and lights turned off.  We are in continuous contact with the security forces and depending on the assessment of the situation, we will issue updates later. Our municipal hotline is available for any question at 1700-550-106. - Kiyrat Shmona spokesperson

🚨🚨 ANOTHER ATTACK

🚨ROCKETS from LEBANON… Sdei Nechemia and surrounds.

▪️IDF ATTACKS SYRIA… An IDF drone’d a vehicle in the "state of Alba't" in Quneitra (southern Syria).  A medical source reports that 4 charred bodies arrived at the hospital from the vehicle that was attacked.  This follows rockets from Syria overnight.

[amperceter-art]

<3 <3 <3

^ no background version for edits or whatever idk -PR

[gwendolynnderolo]

RYAN WHAT

[reive-1]

You convince Levi to grow his hair long after the war <3 and even as he’s getting older he somehow looks younger. Maybe it’s the rest and good food that softens his hard edges, physical and otherwise. Kisses speckling his cheeks instead of blood. Discovering the luxury of an afternoon nap.

The weight of what happened still bears down on his shoulders; it will never leave him, but a steady accumulation of life’s little joys form a raft that keeps him well afloat. And you are the lashings holding it all together, like how you hold all of him so easily in your arms.

How wonderful it is to be able to do nothing. No blades to hone or formations to practice. No battles to fight or bodies to bury. Just sitting on the cottage porch with the sun warming your skin, your hand in Levi’s. He doesn’t seem to mind the faint layer of sweat intermingling between your palms. It’s the first day of summer, and it feels good to be alive.

[assortedvillainvault]

Nothing quite like rewatching an old favourite and being slapped with the rediscovery of ones villainous voice kink.

Like- jesus- Jafar why-

[lesbiancosmicowl]

Carla, can you call me? I need to talk to you. ↳Lisa Swain + Getting progressively worse at keeping it together

[anghraine]

One of the weirder parts of being formally tested for autism as an adult—apart from the hellscape of hours of math hell—was that they kept asking me for my conclusions or opinions about things I had very little knowledge of. These weren't basic facts you'd expect someone to pick up in the course of a standard US education, and I kept repeating that I would have to do actual research to form opinions on subjects I had no significant information about.

Obviously, "not opinionated" isn't a major problem for me when I do have a reasonable amount of information, but my eventual diagnosis specifically mentioned that I kept repeating that I would have to do more research to acquire the necessary baseline of data for forming opinions on [whatever], and that the phrasing of my various refusals tended to be identical or very similar (I didn't see any need to alter my wording when I was simply repeating the same position over and over).

*cough*

Anyway this is also about Star Trek. (Surprise.) I knew Spock would be relatable before we started the grand TOS watch, but did not expect him to be the most relatable character on television ever, and his continual refusals to deliver opinions without enough data for informed theories was actually a big part of this.

[thesunsethour]

when house stares into cameron’s soul until the weight of her faith in him becomes too much… my god…

[see-arcane]

Jack when narrating about telling Mina about the mens' attack on Dracula in London:

she grew snowy white at times when danger had seemed to threaten her husband, and red at others when his devotion to her was manifested

Mina blushing at Jonathan's acts of devotion omg...

When we came to the part where Harker had rushed at the Count so recklessly, she clung to her husband’s arm, and held it tight as though her clinging could protect him from any harm that might come.

Protective instincts aside I love Jack saying that his attack was "so recklessly". He did fear for Jonathan's life and tried to shield him with a crucifix and a wafer because he kept trying to Kill. I imagine him talking about the attack with the tone of a man who is wiping his sweating forehead going "And then, the absolute madlad-"

Jack: "We were trying to play it safe, united front and all, except someone kept trying to actively gut the ancient undead horror right then and there. And then he lizard fashioned out the window to try it again when said undead horror threw himself out of the building to escape. And then he went chasing after the undead horror to try and carve him open in the middle of a crowded street. If Dracula hadn't sprinted for it I'm pretty sure your husband would have filleted him in the Square. And this was all after he swore out loud to sell his soul to kill the Count and send him to Hell."

Jonathan: "Sorry I didn't slaughter him for you yet, darling 🥺"

Mina, simultaneously terrified and so aroused she can't see straight: "that's fine my love it's great it's cool"

[lilcreaturethingfromthewoods]

I feel like everyone needs to see this because it encapsulates their characters perfectly

[cocktailjjrs]

Bsd 119

With this chapter, can i saw a few things?

Spoiler's!

Fyodor is a bitch with God complex

It's even funny when you see this image with the context of his dialogue. he is standing in the shadow of the Shadow of the divine one... HE IS THAT DRAMATIC!

Fyodor first tried stealing Dazai, then Dazai's man and now he is trying to steal Atsushi - he needs to decide on one, this is getting ridiculous

Poor Atsushi - now he is a bookmark

Honestly, i never imagined a bookmark reference can be used like this... It's unusual...

Yup - classic villain move and then he goes and offers the other side of the page.

I always thought only dumb people fell for such obvious tricks - mostly not the MCs, but here we are...

Okay, i didn't like how this order turned out to be...

But to some extent i can't believe Fukuzawa even gave that order... the man's known to fight till the end...

These panels look majestic!

Oh, to be able to surprise Fyodor!

You can't tell me the whole Vampirism twist introduced to the story was not for Aku to level up... That was always supposed to be the end game!

From cosplaying a Lost Victorian Child to actually turning into a Lost Victorian Child (even speaking as such) - A journey by Akutagawa Ryunosuke

Like hell, now he is speaking like Bram? is it going to stick? Will it wear off?

and most importantly -

Will he treat Aya like a princess henceforth? Is Aya getting a third (or fourth?) dad????

This better be Sarcastic!

In the manner of -'"who the hell are you, crying like a child" or "You are not the jinko who did not give up".

Even if it isn't, well it'll be another journey...

But thinking back to the airport scene, he either will remember or he is just being petty...

And we know Aku isn't actually winning this fight...

At least not alone...

Honestly, this Chapter was a banger!

From Fyodor's explanation of how Atsushi could have actually fought against the divine one

To Atsushi just being lost and giving up all the hope, even giving up himself to just get ADA back to normal

To the Vampire in Shining Armor coming in to save the day.....

I'm so glad they now look like the MCs, Atsushi and Akutagawa...

[age-of-moonknight]

Variant cover for Phases of the Moon Knight (Vol. 1/2024), #3 by Yuji Kaku.

[fooltofancy]

we've reached the bargaining stage: k bud if u can load everything all u have to do otherwise is sweep and vacuum we'll horrible cleaning solutions tomorrow.

[rab1darachn1d]

pathetic og dottore truther but not in a "nooo he has a sad past he didn't do anything wrong hes just misunderstood :(((" way but in a he sits at his desk mourning the life he destroyed while continuing to commit even worse crimes and only touches grass every 20 years and it looks like this

not pathetic 👉👈🥺 but pathetic mean old cat who probably smells like a mold spore

[bromcommie]

Always happy to help with ✨The Process✨ so here are some words that will hopefully serve as inspiration/raw material/prompts/etc. (or whatever you like it to be):

brush | fierce | regret | skin | rain | coffin | curve | nail | resist

(any or all, I just wanted to offer you a bit of a selection)

<3

Hiiii J! Thank you oh so much for this abundant feast! Sorry it took a hot second to respond <3

Here's a few snippety snips that were laying around that your lovely prompts kind of revived—and I'm saving the rest for later because I got in my head about them way too much but then they inspired some, uh. Serious pondering. And possibly also 5k+ words lol.

brush

They drive for a long time, the cornflower blue sky seeming to roll out and unravel forever towards the long unbroken green line of the flat horizon like two giant, abstract shapes meeting, interrupted only by the sun catching amber on the rare trees and houses as it sets: turning them into something concrete and real.

It’s all beautiful and idyllic; it makes him feel incredibly, acutely small. For the first time in forever, Steve’s hand itches for a brush.

 At some point the radio fizzles back into clarity as they pass closer to civilization, and the jovial warbling tune sparks a memory somewhere deep in the back of Steve’s conscious.

Some say this world of trouble is the only one we need But I'm waitin’ for that morning When the new world is revealed

A flash of a grin like the strike of a match, like light over the East River at sundown. Holy cow. Welcome to the future.

“What is it,” Sam sighs from the driver’s seat after they’ve been quiet for a while. “I know that look.”

“What look?”

Sam side-eyes him with that patented impatience Steve's learned to read as him tacitly calling Steve's bluff, mouth tight and eyes knowing and open but with a healthy side of you're insulting my goddamn intelligence, here. “Come on, we’ve practically been pissing with the door open like an apathetic married couple for a month now, you think I don’t know the look? Penny for your thoughts, old man."

When the sun refuse to shine When the trumpet sounds its call

“Nothing,” Steve says after a minute, looking out at the fields blurring past them. “Nothing. Just listening to the music, is all.”

fierce(ly)

He keeps to his routine. As promised, he stays out of the way of the other tenants, keeps quiet and clean, even attempts a haircut with the abandoned kitchen scissors he finds in one of the drawers before he gives up when it keeps coming out all lopsided and inconsistent. He only smokes on the roof where no one can see him. He delivers the neat stack of bills to Mrs. Ciobanu's lonely echoing apartment every month on the dot, and occasionally even manages to delicately maneuvre himself out of staying for coffee and listening to her diatriabes on her thankless daughter who lives abroad with an Arab or the dangers of vaccines or whether or not someone named Angela Merkel is drinking children's blood to stay young.

Which is as big an accomplishment as any, he supposes.

He fares far worse when Florin and Adriana come back from their trip to the countryside around Christmas, all rosy-cheeked exhaustion and bright eyes, one too many sturdy IKEA bags overflowing with food between them and one too many apparent decisions struck during the car ride over about trying to force feed him meat and cabbage again.

"Shut up. I can count your ribs from here," Florin cuts him off a second into his attempted protest in that impatient grandfatherly voice he rarely ever uses with Adriana herself, which is a low blow. "You will never get married at this rate."

The elevator's too small and stinking of tobacco from years past and broken again, anyway, and he might be in hiding, but he's not an asshole, so he lugs their bags up the seven flights of stairs. He spends yet another fifteen minutes trying to say goodbye and get out of staying for dinner, but his embarrassed resistance to charity quickly tapers off when Adriana grabs his hand and drags him into the ancient kitchen to show him how her aunt's taught her to cook, her still-chubby fingers assembling the fatty thick rolls all lopsided and loose. Something in his chest aches sharply at the bashful grin on her face when he compliments her technique.

It might be stupid, this much mingling, this much permanence that doubles as a trackable proof of existence—it is stupid, a part of his brain keeps screaming pointedly, stupid to the point of suicide—but somewhere between the third and thirtieth bite swallowed down under Adriana's expectant gaze and Florin's watchful one, it occurs to him that at least the steady intake of food that doesn't come out of a can or a bag has the added benefit of him not collapsing in a market under the police's nose again.

So he shuts the hell up. He eats his dinner. He listens to Florin complain about corrupt politicians and Adriana complain about how much better she is at soccer than all the boys in the village and dutifully rolls up the four dozen sarmale that are meant for the freezer, and doesn't even mind that he's worse at it than a sevenyearold.

He starts picking up odd repair jobs around the neighbourhood as the construction grinds to a screeching halt in the wet weather, and tries to keep out of the bitter cold to the best of his abilities. One day, smushed on the stuffy bus in between two groups of rowdy teenagers seemingly competing for the title prize of loudest motherfuckers this side of the Dâmbovița, he realizes that he fiercely dislikes this time of year. He's subsequently pleasantly surprised to find that it has little to do with any previous associations; he’s just vaguely disgusted and disgruntled at the constant chill and damp, the way he's constantly sweating and freezing at the same time, the gloomy sky, the hysteria of the holiday crowds and the way they're wreaking havoc on the city's precarious public transportation system.

It's a persistent annoyance, and he wholeheartedly embraces the relief of the slightly musty, blissfully quiet space of the shitty apartment every time he walks in. Spends every second sitting there waiting for the old electric heater Ciobanu offloaded onto him to get with the program and spit out actual heat as opposed to just that burnt plastic smell wondering, not for the first time, what kind of fucking demon possessed him to pick Bucharest in December as his permanent base.

His shitty apartment, it strikes him with some faraway bewilderment one day as he’s knocking his shoulder against the door to make the lock stick behind him. His thick hoodie hanging by the door. The kind of chocolate bars he likes stashed in the drawer, his red mug with the chip right in the middle of the bold white NESCAFE letters; his half-open carton of Kents, his stacks of notebooks and paperbacks starting to pile off-kilter on every available flat surface, the chickenscratch drawing of some kind of overgrown cow-slash-dog Adriana gave him stuck to the fridge.

His life. It’s such a rare, human liberty, the runaway thought, and he cherishes it a little, shaking the snow out of his hair and clothes.

Like so many other liberties, it comes at a cost.

regret

What would he have even said, back then? I still love my father like I love a rare few people but sometimes I look at pictures of him when he was younger and I get so scared it makes me hate myself a little? It wasn't the kind of thing you just dump on a person; let alone on Steve, of all people.

"You never told me that," Steve says then, and he doesn't ask why this, why now, but there's enough of that repurposed careful tone to his voice that it almost makes Bucky regret saying anything at all, makes him want to suck it all back up into himself like a loose roll of film in the seconds before it gets sun-bleached.

It's better than the raw sympathy, he tells himself. It's better than the look of near-hurt confusion Steve would level at him in the first few weeks after Kreischberg whenever Bucky did or said something off, something particularly un-Bucky-like, but only by a very slim margin. Only in that this is, at the very least, unfamiliar: here is Steve wanting to worm his way in between the cracks and choosing, for a change, to allow Bucky his dignity instead.

skin

"What would you want?" is what he lands on eventually, balancing the huge, awkward, terrifyingly wide open vagueness of the question with drawing mindless nonsense patterns over Bucky's back over and over. "To do, that is. Going forward."

Bucky's eyes are big and dark in his face when he lifts his head, catalogues Steve's expression with that quiet kind of thoughtfulness Steve still can't entirely be on the inside of, can't fully decipher.

Then he leans over, all deliberate, slow movement, and sinks his teeth into the bare skin of Steve's shoulder like a goddamn piranha.

"Ow," Steve says half-heartedly, like half his body isn't already breaking out in goosebumps when Bucky follows the attack up by a line of wet kisses towards his ear. "Jesus, alright. I guess that's the next ten minutes accounted for, at least."

Bucky raises his head from where he's doing his best impression of a mauling animal, this time to shoot him a dubious look. "Ten minutes? I can't tell if you're trying to offend me or you, here."

send me some word prompts I can feed on?

[indooroutdoorboyfriend]

it's Harassing You o'clock so i am gonna discuss my oc some more in the tags