#also please don't apologize

[deathdxnces]

a kiss to anger a third party an adrenaline filled kiss shared after committing a crime

(also very indulgent I'm sorry akakbssj irelia can totally punch him, i endorse it)

- @deathfxnds

There is battle, often bloody and always messy, conflict that inevitably leads to the destruction of things; and then there is slaughter, the carnage purposeful, the violence unilateral.

The noxians fallen on the beach attempted to make it a battle, but the truth of it was it had just been murder. Those were not legionnaires, albeit still would-be colonizers, trying to settle down and make the land their own.

They were warned to leave, before the pair arrived to ensure they would. It is more than the noxians ever gave her kin.

Witnessing the result of their combined viciousness does not cause Irelia to regret it. It is the high of battle, blood rushing and adrenaline fueling her every movement, perhaps; she would not doubt given time her mind would wander the way it inevitably always wanders: her parents would be ashamed she paints their family crest red without remorse; her grandmother would weep at what she had become. The dancer wants to believe Zelos would've understood.

Tonight, she is the one to approach the other first, soon after the last body hit the ground. A meager attempt to keep moving before the self-imposed guilt of her family's judgment fell upon her in full. They would not have understood... and maybe he doesn't, either, but Kayn understands what she feels then (the satisfaction brought with each fallen enemy, the pleasant rush of being in combat; not tolerating violence, but relishing in it).

When Kayn looks at her, the frantic glint of bloodlust and adrenaline shines in his golden eyes, seeming more clouded by it than she still feels. Misjudgment on her part, perhaps, as adrenaline continues to run high, heart racing and the feeling of invincibility lingering.

The assassin does not hesitate. Yet it isn't the scythe he reaches for, pulling her closer by the waist instead, a hand behind her head, guiding her lips to his. It isn't sweet; he kisses her hungrily, as if it is something he had longed to do before, as if it is something he had never considered before, just an impulse followed. And for a stunned moment, she lets him, retributes, something primal and just as ravenous meeting its match - until her mind catches up with it, the unexpected closeness, the fact she had already allowed him to get closer than he ought.

Irelia breaks the kiss with a violent shove, stepping back to further the distance between them. What was he thinking? Kayn himself had made certain to keep her at a distance, to refuse even innocent contact - and now this?

The indignant question, fiercely posed, may have been directed to herself as well, had she not been so angry at the man in front of her. "What do you think you're doing?!"

[buckttommy]

i’m never sure where i want my line to be between just not following/not really wanting to see someone on my dash and actually blocking them. like is just being really annoying enough to warrant a block? lol (not asking like you have all the answers just kind of sharing thoughts at you sorry)

Yes, it really is enough to block people just for being annoying because usually people who are annoying on their blogs end up becoming a major, joy-sucking nuisance when they start engaging with your blog. Last season, I did not block enough people and it effected my enjoyment of the show and I am not doing that to myself again this season. You shouldn't either! Block them for being annoying. Seriously.

[divorcedfiddleford]

leave the door ajar

[shoutsindwarvish]

Tom Sturridge on Morpheus, BFI Q&A

[maedhrus]

"Although perhaps, we shall never be [...] intimate friends [...], still I would not wish a better." (x)

[calltomuster]

Disabilities exist in Star Wars. Period.

This post is dedicated to certain specific people who say they are not be able to reconcile service animals in Star Wars, especially Jedi, since the Force and technology exist. These people seemingly have never seen Star Wars, where disabilities not only exist but feature prominently in many cases — yes, even in Jedi. So let us prove them definitively wrong here.

From the very beginning, disabilities have existed in Star Wars. In fact, one could argue a feature of a disability is one of the most iconic things about Star Wars. Even people who aren't Star Wars fans, or who haven't seen the movies at all, know the sound of Darth Vader's breathing. Darth Vader -- Anakin Skywalker -- is unable to breathe on his own and needs to be constantly hooked up to a life-support system simply to stay alive. This in itself is an answer to the argument that the Force compensates for everything. Perhaps you might want to say it is the Force that lets him stay alive beyond what would kill someone else, but still it cannot take the place of functional lungs, or grow back missing limbs, etc. Anakin Skywalker is one of the most powerful Force-sensitives to have ever lived, and yet he can still be disabled and need assistance. (Also, because sometimes I see people making the argument that because of all the pain that Anakin is in, he should be forgiven for his actions, let me say this: Anakin Skywalker can be disabled and still be villainous and make choices that hurt untold billions of people. Being disabled does not absolve you of your bad decisions. Disabled people are people too, and all people make choices and that is what determines the kind of person they are. But that's another post.)

Another example of the Force not compensating for everything is Yoda. We see Yoda using mobility aids multiple times throughout the OT and the PT, from a cane to a hoverchair. He is known as one of the wisest and most powerful Jedi ever, and yet he still uses mobility aids. "Yeah, well," you say, "he still fights with his lightsaber and does all those flips, so that doesn't count." This is the same stupid argument that people make against ambulatory wheelchair users. Needing to use a mobility aid does not mean you need to use it all the time. Total paralysis is not the only thing that makes people need to use wheelchairs or similar mobility aids. Often, people are technically capable of walking or moving around or even fighting and doing backflips in Yoda’s case, but the amount of pain and decreased function that such actions would cause are not worth it except for short amounts of time or in dire circumstances. This does not make them less disabled, or mean that they are faking it. 

“Must be a Jedi thing,” you say. What about Chirrut Îmwe or Kanan Jarrus, who are both blind (or become so). The Force does not give them their sight back (aside from a certain final scene in Rebels). “It’s only for Force-sensitives, then,” you try next. Try looking at Saw Gerrera, who needs oxygen assistance and wears a pressurized suit over his body. Or how about 99, a disabled clone who helps in brothers and is commended as “a true soldier” upon his death? The clones are excellent examples, for that matter. Wolffe is missing an eye, Gregor has a traumatic brain injury, Echo uses extensive cybernetics to function, among many others. 

Maybe still you want to argue that sure, someone might have a limb chopped off or whatever, but technology has come so far in Star Wars that they're not really disabled. Hear me now when I say: having accommodations that help you function in everyday life does not erase a disability. Go back and read that a few times if you need to, because it’s important. 

Now, to be clear, I’m not at all saying Star Wars always has amazing disability representation. I know that’s not the case in many, many regards, and I will link below references that discuss it in more detail. But to say that something like a service animal does not belong in Star Wars is, frankly, extremely idiotic and ableist and ignores the long history of disability in the GFFA. Disabled people have always existed in Star Wars and other sci-fi/fantasy media and they always will. 

Further reading and other perspectives:

Disability in Star Wars

Blind Warriors, Supercrips, and Techno-Marvels: Challenging Depictions of Disability in Star Wars

How Star Wars: The Bad Batch delivers the disability representation the franchise needed

Twisted and Evil: Ableism in Star Wars

This post was written largely in response to a comment left on a fic in the Service Animal Boga AU, so if you would like to read fics about disabled Obi-Wan with a service animal, please consider supporting us there. :)

[mewkwota]

I was imagining something like a Smash Reunion Party where everyone's families were also invited, but regardless of the scenario I can see Mario staying in touch with fellow Fighters and celebrating important moments with them. Such is the way of Mr. Nintendo. :>

[bubacorn]

hc: Vessel is bad at receiving compliments and being told that he is loved (hug inspired by this one, @ghxstly-death put it into words perfectly. thank you, Eden!🫂)

Thinking about Vessel who can't accept compliments, not because he doesn't believe them (that too), but because he'd heard them so many times in the past related to small, unimpressive things. Not 'I'm proud of you', just 'You did good', an automatic response to any and all achievements. He did good. He didn't know what 'good' meant, but apparently, he did that. He has no idea what was good about what he did, so he continues to push himself, to not be a disappointment. If he does good, then that should be enough, right?

He tries for great, for excellent, for something more, but he always gets 'good', unrelated to the effort and time he put into something. He knows he shouldn't wish for more specific compliments, or anything else, really. He should be grateful to be regarded. Everyone around him is so busy, they can't possibly have time to listen to him talk about how in reality, he has no idea what he's doing. How things sometimes just click but he can't tell if what he did is actually worth anything or it was just pure luck. How he doubts himself at every step but learned to hide it, because he has to be good. And good means coping and dealing with things by himself and quietly, because then he will be told that he did good and who wouldn't want to be good?

Vessel who hears 'I love you' for the first time (said with actual love behind it for the very first time) in a really long time from II. He wouldn't tell the other that, but it's clear from the surprise and the hopeful longing in Vessel's eyes. His friend told him he loves him and he doesn't know what to do with that, so he hesitantly steps to him and begins to lift his arms in question. II's heart squeezes at his shyness, after all, the other has spent months alone in the manor, so it's understandable that he would have grown unaccustomed to touch. But then II has to pull Vessel against him, because the man sort of hovers his arms around his frame as if he doesn't know how to approach a hug. Like he isn't sure what is expected of him and what is too much.

Vessel is surprised when II squeezes around his torso, when he brings one arm around his shoulder and the other to his neck, trying to bring Vessel down towards him, like he wants to protect and shelter him. That's strange, but Vessel finds that his arms want to stay wrapped loosely around II a bit longer and just as he starts to pull away, II again says "I love you, Vessel", and Vessel's brain freezes. II squeezes him tighter and Vessel feels so warm and strangely loose (he's afraid he will unravel if he stays too close for too long) and small even though he towers over his friend. His friend who is now holding him and who apparently loves him.

The only thing in his mind stumbles from his tongue in the form of a quiet "Why?". He didn't do anything exceptional. He was showing II an arrangement and said he wasn't sure if it was any good, letting his fingers dance over the keys, feeling like he was stumbling through music. He felt like it captured that familiar insecurity, and he liked it and hoped II would like it, too. Even if it didn't make it into a song. Then II said he did like it, that it feels like Vessel is unsure but it gives the melody a unique flavor, and that Vessel was great for translating that feeling into music.

"'Why?' ?" II's answering question is filled with such disbelief that Vessel wants to hide. He said something inappropriate, something secret that had previously only been dwelling in his mind, in a dark corner, and now he feels exposed. Why did he even open his mouth? Not good. Definitely bad.

Vessel is slumping against II a bit, like he doesn't know how to hold himself upright anymore, like he needs support. II must feel it, because he's still holding him, and it's been minutes and Vessel tries to squirm away, to save any dignity he might still possess, and II lets him slip out of the embrace, but his arms linger like he doesn't want to let go of his friend. His friend who just blurted out the worst response to a confession of gentle affection. Vessel looks so worried when he catches II's gaze and he immediately averts his eyes and takes a few small steps back, unconsciously gravitating towards his piano for protection, a sense of safety.

"You're my friend, Vessel," II tries approaching the man with soft words, "You're kind and considerate and a damn good musician," Vessel stops backing away when the back of his legs hit the edge of his piano bench, but he's still looking at the floor, "You pour your heart into writing and playing and it's amazing to see. You're committed, but patient and you help me every time I need. Even when I'm too embarrassed to ask," II tilts his head and steps a bit closer to try and catch Vessel's gaze, "I know you don't see it and I'm sorry that you can't because it's true. I would never lie to you about this, Ves. I love you, you're my best friend," Vessel presses his lips together, so II adds, "Not just because we live in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. You're the best friend I've ever had. And I'm glad Sleep led me to you."

Vessel gives him a look that shows he tries really hard to believe him, and adds in such a low voice it's almost a whisper, "I love you, too," as if he's embarrassed to admit it. But it's not embarrassment, II realizes, it's disbelief, it's some sort of deep shame about needing someone else, of relying on anyone else but himself at all times. And it makes sense, considering Vessel's nature, but II could never put it all together, since large chunks of Vessel's past were unfamiliar to him. He could have guessed based on how the man acted, but he didn't want to assume anything. It felt disrespectful. Vessel would share if he wanted.

"And I'm really glad you found me," just a beat of silence, before he adds, in an even quieter tone, if that's possible, "And that you stayed," Vessel risks a bashful glance towards II, and sees him blink rapidly, shocked by the implication of the other's words, before he shakes himself and steps closer to Vessel. He searches his face for apprehension, but doesn't find any, so he gently puts his hands on Vessel's upper arms and sits him down on his bench. Before Vessel can react, II has his arms wrapped around him, one around his shoulder, and the other's hand cupping the back of his head and cradling it to his front.

"You're important to me, Ves. You're special and precious and I love you," II's fingers caress the man's shoulder and card through his hair, "I want you to know that I'm here for you any time, okay?" Vessel is still stunned and he's sure he's going catch on fire if he gets any warmer. II twists a lock of hair around his finger, "Okay?" Words form and die in Vessel's throat so he just nods, rapidly, almost hurriedly, and II lets out a small chuckle. "You're amazing, you know that?" he nuzzles into Vessel's hair for a moment to murmur, "And adorable," II sways with the man in his arms a little and Vessel is sure he will combust. His face is flaming against II's shirt and he tries to suppress the half grimace-half grin on his face and feels unreal. "C'mon. Tea break?" II smiles down at him and offers a hand. Vessel can stand on his own, but doesn't reject the offer. He likes the warmth of II's hand and he can always use the stability and the reminder of the other's presence. II soon replaces his hand with a mug of tea, but it's considerably colder to Vessel. The contrast is especially palpable when II brushes his knuckles against Vessel's as he's handing him his tea. The mug is warm, but II's skin is burning against his. But it's not bad. It's a good burn. It makes Vessel feel alive. Seen. Loved?

Vessel learns that he doesn't have to prove himself to other people to receive love. Love is not something that has to be earned in their home. Love is not a reward, not something that Vessel has to work for, then be disappointed that in the end, it isn't actually given to him. He tried being good in the past, being silent and keeping his head down and being a good kid, but the warmth and the unconditional love didn't come. He still tried, though, he always tried his best, but apparently that wasn't enough. Or there wasn't actually love at the end of that tunnel. It was just a play of light. But that would have been cruel and Vessel would like to think that people in his past weren't intentionally unkind to him (he won't admit the truth to himself for a while).

II often tells Vessel that he's proud of him. For speaking up. For telling him when he's having a bad day. For asking for distance when he needs it and closeness when he feels like he will drift away. For admitting to messing up, when he falls back into bad habits of self-destruction and isolation. For doing a grocery run by himself even though he goes home almost shaking and has to spend the next hours under a blanket on the couch, because it was simply too much. For crying when he talks about memories that he tried his hardest to forget but he just can't. For asking for help and letting II help him, even though it's hard. It's really hard, and Vessel apologizes for it, for being fucked-up and broken and damaged goods. For wasting II's time and being a burden, a needy, greedy thing. Wretched. Minus human.

But II tells him he loves him and that he could never be a burden. That he will always be worth it, he always has been, and that he's sorry that people in Vessel's past couldn't see it. Couldn't see him for all that he is. For the friend who pays attention to little details so he can show his friend how much he values him. For the guy who bakes his friend a complicated cake for his birthday because he off-handedly told him he can't even remember what it tasted like, even though it used to be his favorite. For the amazing composer who can capture emotions one doesn't realize one has. For the hard-working, curious kid who thought that being obedient and not questioning authority was the way to earn praise and affection. For the little boy who thought something was wrong with him, that he did or didn't do something and that is why he couldn't feel loved. For the child who cried and cried, silent and under the cover of the night, hoping that no one would hear (and secretly hoping that somebody would and they would come and save him from the gaping emptiness that made its home in his chest, way too big and scary for a boy that little). For the boy and then the man who couldn't cry anymore but thought that that is more than alright, at least he can finally keep it all inside. For the partner who allowed himself to be vulnerable with someone he trusted. For the partner who made sure his other knew he was always welcome, even though his brain sometimes tried to tell him otherwise. For the partner who grew comfortable with expressing casual affection so much that terms like 'darling' became second nature to him (and for the way he blushed when II told him that). For the man who learned to accept that it's okay to admit to not being okay, to need someone, to want to not feel alone, to feel cherished, to have his feelings validated. For the man who can tell his partner anything and does, because he knows he can speak his mind and that there will be someone who listens.

II wanted to see Vessel. Vessel let him. Even before he showed the uglier and less than perfect parts of himself, II loved him all the same. It was never about being 'good' and silent and compliant. Vessel is good. Vessel is not good. He's amazing. He's perfect. He's wonderful. He's cherished. He's incredible. He's valued. He's seen. He's listened to. He's heard. He's finally, finally loved. Has been for longer than he dared to think. Will soon be by more people than he thought possible.

[jamieedlund]

Merry New Year! ✨🎇🎆

As you can tell this comic was meant for Christmas but I got sick and I couldn't finish the last few pages in time. I do think the sketchiness of the line makes the expressions more lively ;w; It's been 2 years since Callum and Aaravos were together on my blog for (as far as anyone who doesn't stalk my blog since it's dark ages can tell) no clear reason. I hope I can finally hand over the reason in 2024 on a silver platter for you all. In the mean time-

I am thankful and I swear I'll reply to the stack of dms i got piled up in my inbox with proper illustrations as soon as I finish my thesis 🙇‍♂️

[lil-shiro]

Spit on the Ice (A Strollonso Hockey AU)

Fernando Alonso/Lance Stroll ✧ 1.3K ✧ Rated M (Mature)

Fernando might have to keep his relationship with his teammate a secret, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have his own ways of showing affection.

Read here or on Ao3

It’s hard sometimes, being gay in the NHL, but Fernando is more or less used to hiding his sexuality - keeping it under carefully controlled wraps from those around him.

The league can allow players to use rainbow tape in warm-up, they can release multiple statements about how “hockey is for everyone”, but they can’t ever erase the locker room culture that surrounds the elusive word, gay. 

Even for a seasoned player like Fernando, who’s dedicated the last decade of his life to the team, he can’t take any risks. Not until he’s done for good. 

What makes things a hundred times more difficult, was when Lance got drafted. Starry eyed and eager to please, Fernando took him under his wing and made sure he was comfortable with the team and new environment. He was the hometown boy after all, finally back after spending two seasons in the OHL (don’t ask Lance what London, Ontario is like, he’ll tell you there’s nothing to like). 

A calm and collected D-man, Lance is a type of player with good on-ice intuition and doesn’t let other players get into his head. His quick decision making skills allow him to support the offence, and also steal the occasional goal. So, naturally it was important that he gets to know the older forward and establish a good relationship if they want to make the playoffs. He doesn’t say anything about the signed Fernando Alonso puck he keeps safe in his childhood bedroom. 

Fernando might have done his job a bit too well though. Because one month in and he’s driving Lance home after they’ve stayed late at the rink running drills, two months in and Lance takes Fernando to his favourite childhood restaurant, one year later and Fernando wakes up to Lance curled up into his side, comfortable in his Montreal apartment during summer break.

But really, the matching His and His Habs mugs, indicate that this is now Lance’s home as much as it is Fernando’s. 

They can easily pass it off as a close mentor and mentee relationship to the public eye. And no matter how many times Fernando wants to kiss Lance on the ice after a good game, or risk a suspension after someone from the opposing team chirps out “daddy’s money”, Fernando manages to stay in control.

Lance easily slots into Fernando’s life, and he wonders if this was what he’d been missing all those years, while the guys went back to their families and partners; Fernando always found himself back in an empty apartment. 

Fernando loved watching Lance on the ice, a true rink rat from childhood since his father owned an abundance of them around the country. He’s picked out all the younger man’s habits, including his insane oral fixation. Lance isn’t one to chirp, that’s more Fernando’s style, but god does he love munching and chewing on his mouth guard throughout the entirety of a game.

It’s a habit from childhood he defends, after Fernando makes some ridiculous joke about putting that mouth to better use. 

Lance pouts, but obliges anyway, life is good, they’re comfy.

~

They’re on a three game losing streak, and playing in Montreal that night against the Canucks. The crowd is intense, desperate for a win, a home win.

Fernando can basically smell the anxiety radiating off of the team. As a veteran, all he can do is tell everyone to fucking focus when it’s time to get on the ice. It’s not easy as Fernando struggles to keep in puck in possession for more than five seconds, he sees Lance shake off another hit before quickly getting back into the defense zone. 

End of the first period and it’s scoreless, in addition to that, Fernando has to physically drag Pierre away by the neck from starting something after Ocon checks his shoulder and chirps in his ear. Those two are always making faces at each other in the penalty box, but they can’t afford to be a man down tonight, not even for a second.

Lance loses his mouth guard on the ice after a stray stick catches his chin, he’s glaring holes into the fucker’s head when he skates in after the whistle blows. He’s about to call for a new one when Fernando stops him, and spits out his own guard into the palm of his hand, holding it out to Lance.

“Fer…what are you doin?” he asks tentatively.

He offers no explanation other then, “For good luck yeah?"

Lance stares at the mangled piece of spit covered plastic, it’s not quite as worn as his own, since Fernando actually uses his mouth guard properly. The older man’s gaze is intense and Lance knows this all has a deeper meaning. He takes it without thinking twice and places it over his teeth.

Obviously, it doesn't quite fit the way his own guard does, but he doesn't care cause it's Fernando’s. And sure maybe it's kinda filthy, but they've swapped way more than just spit at this point, so Lance starts munching away absently, getting used to the shape, as Fernando watches on.

He’s satisfied with seeing Lance suck and chew on his mouth guard, his tongue poking out occasionally, their spit mixing inside of his boyfriend’s mouth. Thankfully, the game starts again before he can even think about popping a boner on live television.

Fernando growls as his shot hits the post, the Canucks goalie catches the puck before it flies out, ruining any chance for a rebound. There’s no score going into the first or second intermission, and both sides are starting to get agitated, making riskier plays. 

There’s 2 minutes left and no one wants to take this into overtime, they just need one chance, just one to end it all. 

From the bench Fernando watches them scramble for the puck, he can hear the team screaming and banging their sticks, urging the guys on. There’s a breakaway and Mick has the puck, Fernando knows it’ll go in, it always goes in when Mick has that look in his eyes.

Except this time it doesn’t, and Bottas blocks it, but it’s with his legs and he has to go down, he can’t get up fast enough. A stick flies up, clocking Mick in the helmet and cutting off his line of vision, he elbows them back but the refs ignore it.

There’s no one to get the rebound as the puck flies, suspended in the air - but like magic, Lance always shows up at just the right moment, after being invisible from the offensive zone for most of the game. He whips his stick around the back of net, and wraps the puck around so no one can block it. The buzzer goes off. The crowd explodes.

It’s dirty, fucking dirty. He learned from the best after all. He’s Fernando’s dirty boy, his quiet but smart boy, his everything.    

The Canucks are pissed at that goal, but the team have already started to pile on top of Lance. Fernando watches on as the crowd cheers endlessly for their hometown hero, then heads to the media.

When he enters the locker room, the atmosphere is light, a complete 360 from before. There’s claps on his back, fist bumps, and promises for a wild night out, but Fernando only has one thought on his mind. He walks until he’s in front of Lance’s stall, the player of the night, only now just starting to take off his gear.

Fernando doesn’t say anything, observing the way sweat droplets fall from his hair, but his lover senses his presence.

Lance looks up at him through damp lashes and flashes a closed mouth grin before sticking his pink tongue out playfully to reveal Fernando’s mouth guard, like a promise for later.

Oh, their celly tonight will be good. 

[smile-files]

as a jew, seeing what all of these israeli leaders have said is sickening. as a jew, anti-palestinian rhetoric is sickening. as a jew, zionism is sickening.

how dare my people -- a people who've been massacred, ethnically cleansed, dehumanized, forcibly removed, and discriminated on religious grounds for their entire existence -- do the same to another people? how dare we turn our backs on them, when they suffer like we have?

i understand that so much of us have been fed zionist propaganda our entire lives; the same happened to me. i understand the desire for a homeland where we don't have to fear antisemitism at every turn; i want that too. but it doesn't take much thought to understand that a homeland for us, which actively oppresses and kills another people, is antithetical to what we want.

if you, as a member of an oppressed group, believe that your freedom and safety can only exist when you oppress another group, you are acting no better than the people who oppressed you. such a belief is horrible, and cynical, and wrong.

as a jew, i want jewish people to be happy and safe and connected to our heritage; as a jew, i also want other peoples to be happy and safe and connected to their heritage.

don't call the palestinians "amalek". you are turning us into amalek.

doesn't the torah tell us to have empathy for those beaten down by the world? doesn't the torah tell us to make the world a better place? doesn't the torah tell us to free people of their shackles and help them escape oppression?

i have so many israeli aunts and uncles and cousins; i fear for their safety. of course, my parents do as well. i'm worried that this fear, in addition to anything they were led to believe earlier in life, is placing my parents even deeper in the zionist camp. but it doesn't have to be this way! my relatives' safety does not rely on the continued oppression of gaza!

it is easy to be uninformed, to be swayed by propaganda, to blindly hope that israel was founded in good faith -- but we can't lie to ourselves. a world steeped in senseless hatred (which we are now promoting!) could never be a home for us. none of us are free, liberated, equal, until all of us are.

as a jew, to other jews, i implore that we stand with our palestinian siblings. i want us all to be happy and safe. i want us all to live in harmony -- in the holy land and around the world. that is what we all deserve. <3

[coleomegilla-maculata]

Textpost Time B)

[makorragal-312]

Yeah...I don't really buy that the guy who had a panic attack over his last girlfriend being mistaken for his wife and was more than ready to dump his current one for being a former nun is even going to contemplate proposing to her.

Knowing him, he would be so deep in his eventual gay crisis that he accidentally sends false hints that made Marisol think that he was gonna propose to her. And then, when she's expecting him to get on one knee, he's telling her to go the fuck home and stay there. (because dumping is still hard for him)

[fyrewalks]

still thinking about bobby's 'tommy's good people' line. like. buck's happiness and comfortableness in this relationship is just that obvious that they haven't needed to talk about it.

[stopblowingholesinmyships]

if you all don't have another reason to fight for this show then here's one:

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

I've always wondered if you happened to have a discord? If not have you ever considered making one?

i do have one! however i use it very sparingly because 1) new people (especially groups) scare me & 2) brain's been fucking weird for a hot minute and i barely talk to people i'm already friends with let alone strangers