#edited for grammar

[sightseertrespasser]

Odds of Survival Part 6

Prowl comes up with a grim but viable theory, misses his ESP (Emotional Support Pterodactyl) and Jazz has a “cultural exchange” with Bluestreak.

Credit to @keferon for creating the AU!

———————————————————————

The cascade of Prowl rapidly drumming his fingers on the console was the only sound in the room. His gaze was fixed a million miles away, boring a hole through the far wall.

Hypothesis: Jazz, and possibly others, were secretly cold constructed by the Functionalists for the sole purpose of fighting Quintesson forces.

Many of Jazz’s eccentricities fell into place within that framework. He lacked a subspace, which would make it very difficult to hold onto personal items or contraband. His anatomy was was entirely specialized for battle, all curved angles, narrow gaps and thick plating. Likewise, Jazz’s subdued reaction to injuries could be accounted for if the Functionalists had removed a large portion of his sensory network and replaced his extremities with non-living metal prosthetics.

Prowl shuddered.

He turned from the physical to the mental. Jazz was smart, undeniably, but also severely starved of information.

The Functionalists were exceedingly well practiced in the art of secrecy and subjugation.

Keeping their custom soldiers in the dark about the greater galaxy would significantly reduce the chances of their mechs trying to escape or revolt. The muting, or possible removal of Jazz’s EM field would prevent him from easily emotionally connecting with other mechs and would hamper his ability to detect malicious intent from any handlers.

That alone could account for Jazz’s extremely tactile extroversion. It could be a form of compensation or maybe just a coping method for the loss of sensation. Add a manufactured language barrier, and even if Jazz had had previous brushes with mechs other than his handlers, he wouldn’t have been able to communicate with them. A perfect isolation tactic ensuring total control.

Until now.

Prowl finally straightened, creating a task list to execute once the ship arrived.

- Get Jazz seen by Velocity immediately. Both to treat his injuries properly and to document any evidence of prior abuse. He trusted her to catch and catalogue details only a medic would know.

- Debrief Elita One. He would need to phrase things carefully to ensure Jazz isn’t unfairly imprisoned or executed for possibly being connected to the Functionalists.

- Awake Green from hibernation. Despite his initial reluctance to interact with his therapist mandated “work-life balance tool”, the organic had grown on him. Further more, his Flyt afforded him an entirely neutral sounding board for times when speaking aloud was the best way to sort his processor.

The theory was good, but Prowl could still feel an itch in his processor. He was still missing something. He rubbed at the heat beginning to build under his helm.

Prowl tacked on a fourth task:

- Stick entire helm inside tub of coolant.

The tactician almost quirked an irritated smile as he made his way back towards his brother and the walking processor ache.

At least the likely hood of Jazz dropping us off another building was lower.

(14%)

Marginally.

For now, the Functionalist Creation Theory was still just that. A theory. He needed more information on where Jazz came from, and for that, they’d need to overcome more of their language barrier.

Thankfully, Bluestreak had offered to assist in catching Jazz up to speed on more Common.

Prowl keyed the door open.

“Frugg!”

Primus help him.

Jazz had his back turned to the door, free hand waving away Bluestreaks mispronunciation.

“Na, no R sounds. It’s Fuck.”

“Fugg!” Bluestreaks face was the picture of determined ambition.

“Getting closer! Now drop the Guh and replace it with Kh.” Jazz nodded encouragingly.

“Fruck!” His brother shouted, servos slapping on his knees.

“Nope, you’re putting an R back in there again. Like this: Fuck. Fuh-uck.” Jazz moved his hand through the air like a conductor, enunciating each Phoneme with clean cut clarity. “Try again, you got this man. Fuck.”

“Fuck.”

Jazz turned around at the perfectly pronounced cuss word.

“Heeey! What’s up mother fragger! How’d the meeting with your slag head boss go?”

Prowl turned on his brother so slowly you could have mounted a telescope on him. “Adequately.”

Prowl continued his one sided stare down with Bluestreak, who was lightly clapping his hands together while seemingly fascinated with the far wall.

Jazz was laughing again. “Don’t be too disappointed in him. I do have a much better understanding of Common now.” He stood taking the anesthetic tape with him.

“Aight, it’s your turn, sit down.” Jazz patted the bench.

Prowl broke his stare down and cycled his optics. Bluestreak stopped pretending to stare at the wall.

“That is unnecessary.” He said automatically. “We need to be ready to leave in one breem.”

Jazz crossed his arm over the sling, cocking his head to the side. “Well then you better sit your shiny ass down so we aren’t late.”

Bluestreak kept silent through sheer force of determination to not ruin this moment.

Prowl couldn’t move Jazz, and Jazz knew it.

He sat. Glowering.

“Thank you!” Jazz sang, warbling across the vowels. He tossed the tape to Bluestreak. “I’m pretty talented but handling sci-fi duct tape one handed isn’t for me.”

Bluestreak sputtered briefly, before going to work tearing off small strips.

“How. How? It took us VORNS to get Prowl to take care of himself even a little bit! And you pull it off in less than a cycle? I had to get blown up before he’d even step into a normal med bay AND Smokescreen had to basically drag him in! You could not BRIBE this mech into self care if you had all the shanix in the entire galaxy!”

Bluestreak talked and worked quickly, knowing he was on a time limit before Prowl would try and escape.

“Hah, I feel that. Whenever I go back to the {Shatterdome}, er, “base” they basically gotta corner me to do any kind of check up.” Then Jazz sounded almost nostalgic. “{Ratchet} had it down to a science before he left.”

As the small aches and pains began to dull, Prowl took lead of the conversation for some subtle information gathering.

“So Jazz, how many of your kind are there?”

Prowl ignored the hard flick Bluestreak gave him. However, Jazz seemed unfazed by his bluntness.

He leaned against the wall, looking up slightly in thought. “Uhhh let’s see. The base I’m from has five mecha. There’s me, my little brother {Ricochet}, {Hot Rod}, {Blurr} sort of, aaaand {Vortex}.”

He counted off on his fingers. Then made a so-so sign.

“Well, Vortex isn’t the uh, the person? The real Vortex died a long time ago. Now it’s just a uh.”

Jazz struggled to translate something, unaware of the Praxians steadily growing looks of confusion.

He snapped his fingers, “Dead-Not-Dead location stay? Some people think the Dead-Real-not-Real Vortex is still in there. I think it’s just a {Death trap.} Dangerous to be near positive-positive-positive.”

Jazz made a gesture above his head. “Vortex kills more quintessons than people though, so the high-important-leaders won’t get rid of the thing. They just,” he shrugged a little uselessly. “Keep feeding us to it.”

Is he… Is he describing what I think he is?

“You live with a Sparkeater?” Bluestreak broke the silence.

“Spark-eater?” Jazz sounded out the syllables. “That sounds like a good word for it, yeah.”

At least Prowl could finally confirm Jazz couldn’t detect EM fields. His and Bluestreaks horror saturated the room.

“…You guys okay?” Ah. Just dulled then.

“Yes.” Prowl reeled in his field and elbowed Blue to do the same. “Simply surprised.”

“And concerned.” Bluestreak chipped in. “Is your brother going to be okay? I mean, he’s alone with that thing! Are your leaders going to feed him to the vortex next? Is that what happens to mechs that don’t perform well enough?!”

Jazz startled upright, quickly shaking his head from side to side. “No no no! He’s fine! They won’t do that to Rico, he’s already proved himself plenty and it’s just new fighters they send to Vortex.”

“They don’t always die either, sometimes they just go crazy.” Jazz made a circling motion with his index finger next to his head, stopping awkwardly mid gesture.

“That.” He put his hand down. “Sounded better in my head.”

Bluestreak clasped his servos together behind his helm. Mouth pressed into a thin line.

Prowl twitched as he received a ping from their ship. “Our transport has arrived. We can discuss that later.”

Later.

Yes, let’s discuss the horrifying implications of your entire existence later. Perhaps over some lightly warmed energon?

Maybe he likes Flyts. Jazz can pet Green while they both have mental breakdowns.

With a consciously steady ex-vent, Prowl stood, dipping his doorwings in thanks to Bluestreak. “If you would follow us, I will see to it you are comfortable until we are able to..”

Prowl briefly struggled to find the right term. “Sort out. Your… management situation.”

Jazz nodded, “Right, right. You mentioned transport?”

Gratefully, Prowl gestured for Jazz to follow him towards the airlock.

Before the partial vacuum could cut off their voices once more, Prowl nodded to the narrow window facing the landing strip.

Curiosity pulled visored mech over and when Jazz reached the window, he gasped.

Prowl lifted his doorwings and held out one servo, presenting their ship.

“Welcome aboard the Lost Light.”

———————————————————————

Jazz pov: “Huh. Spark eater. I get it, cause it metaphorically snuffs out peoples spark of life. Cool analogy for a death trap.”

The Praxians pov: “whaT Do YoU mEaN THERE’S A VAMPIRE IN YOUR HOUSE?!”

Little be of extra short hand, these {} denote a word being spoken in English. So Prowl is hearing the sound of the word but doesn’t know its meaning.

Extra bit of world building, the Shatterdome Jazz is from was the one that originally housed all the Combaticons, which is why it has specifically five mecha cradles. It’s also the number one Research and Development Shatterdome which is why you’ve got stuff like Blurr’s turbo fast mecha housed there.

In addition, Ricochet is a fairly normal pilot, but he’s housed there specifically because of his relation to Jazz. You know those tests they run with twins where they’ll send one into space for a month and keep one on earth to compare the differences? Basically Rico is the control group and Jazz gets to try the crazy shit.

- SSTP

[speedforce-zoomies]

In another world, before Jason returns, before Damian arrives, Tim and Cass and Steph are all working side by side, causing mischief throughout their tenure

Dick and Barbs and Helena and Jean Paul all get dragged into their schemes randomly and most of them are delighted by their gumption

Poor Bruce and Alfred are constantly at their wits ends with the three of them but they’re reluctantly amused

Still though, no matter what, they’re settled into their roles-

Tim is Robin, Steph is Spoiler, and Cass is Batgirl…

Until one day Tim gets sick and asks Cass to stand in for him. Then Steph calls dibs for the next time Tim can’t be Robin.

So when Tim has a really important test three weeks later he seeks a distraction not through patrol but by springing Steph!Robin on Bruce

The three of them pretend like nothings going on and fall into conspiring giggles as Bruce just sighs at them but goes with it

It snowballs from there until Bruce realizes he has three Robins now

It completely confuses the criminals and the other Gotham heroes are highly entertained

Bruce has to learn how to say Robin three different ways so that they all know which one of them he’s referring to on the patrols where all three of them go out as Robin together

Cass still goes out as Batgirl and Steph still goes out as Spoiler and sometimes Tim goes out without any name at all just to see what he can get away with but all of them regularly put on their Robin suits, sometimes solo, sometimes as a duo, other times as a trio

Then years later when Damian comes to Gotham (Cass is still in Gotham, Steph isn’t ‘dead’) and challenges all three of them for the title Steph cheers while Tim and Cass are just looking between them, amused

“Four Robins!” she starts chanting “Four Robins! Four Robins!”

Damian never stood a chance

Neither did Bruce

He now has four Robins

Later, five with Duke

All of them eventually have their own monikers

But still… sometimes Bruce heads down into the Batcave and finds that they’re all Robin again

And Bruce just sighs and patrols with a whole flock of birds flying behind him

It takes Dick a bit to get use to it

But once he does? He’s incredibly proud

[mojo-yous]

Just to give some perspective, Shelby said that she dated wilbur all of 2022 and some months into 2023.

The Tom Simons total wipeout challenge vlog was posted may 2022, the Zoo Tycoon stream with Phil was August 2022, and the ‘If Tommy Swears I End Stream’ was in November 2022

It seems very surreal that something/someone so sinister was literally right in front of us this whole time.

[georgebbwbush]

i'm mostly willing to overlook the fact that the "chinese characteristics" part of "socialism with chinese characteristics" is just capitalism bc like what other choice have we got atp. real marxist praxis in 2025 is saving up to buy a BYD (and pretending that those batteries don't have congolese conflict minerals in them)

[everyday-pokemon-headcanons]

A Meowth in my neighborhood has stolen an unseemingly long sock. No-one knows where it came from, but it has spots. The Meowth likes to hold the sock in its mouth, so you can watch the sock slink after the Meowth for a good ten seconds after the Meowth leaves.

[angrycartoonsquirrel]

Interviewer: "What would you say is your greatest strength?"

Alastor (Cheerily): "I come in with a smile every day, ready to do what must be done."

Interviewer: "List a flaw?"

Alastor (Sinisterly): "I come in with a smile every day, ready to do what must be done."

[agent-of-imagined-chaos]

my shitpost brain is so bad that someone(friend) said to feel the bump on their head and my immediate response was to ask if they had a soft spot like a chihuahua

[dinersaturn]

Buck-Tick very well might break up. After all, Atsushi was not only their lead singer but lyricist as well. No matter what happens, let’s support the band through this difficult time.

[notes-from-hisui]

I will never live down my failure with the snowball fight with the kids on Alabaster Icelands. Their children's children will know the story, point, and laugh at the city kid from the future's downfall.

[everylittlepiecelove13]

just saw a gale and mystra edit to would’ve could’ve should’ve and I don’t think I’ll ever recover

[synergy-poprocks]

this is LITERALLY one of the reasons I started the DexXL drawing project. I didn't get into it with my first post, but I might as well now. Under the cut because it's a bit ranty:

When I think of AI Art, I think of that one quote from Jane Austin's Emma where Mr. Knightly says, "[Emma] will never submit to any thing requiring industry and patience." It's the same thing with anyone interested in AI. @mewtwoandme said it best above: they're LAZY. They don't WANT to do real art, they want people to THINK they're talented without putting in any of the actual effort required to develop a legitimate talent.

Along with that: any AI bro I've ever met is one of the most wholly unpleasant people to be around. They're rude. They think they know better than you or ARE better than you not just at art, but at other things too. They think they're owed something just by existing when they've never put the work in to receive any real reward, praise, or special treatment.

One such guy comes into my work. We've had to ban him from parts of the store because he'll try to use equipment without our permission. He thinks we can't cut his silly little AI prints as straight as he can. He can't just seem to wrap his silly little head around the fact that no amount of "straight cutting" is going to make his so-called "art" anything more than a cheap imitation of other people's actual hard work and training. Even if the cutting is crooked, that's the least of his problems. His REAL problem is that he evidently has no talent to begin with, nor is he interested in developing it.

If imitation really is "the sincerest form of flattery mediocrity can pay to greatness," then AI bros might as well parade with a banner that says "I'm mediocre!! I'm only interested in the path of least resistance!! Please stay as far away from me as possible!!" Personally, I feel like nothing could be more embarrassing than admitting I'm incapable of developing my talents on my own. Loudly advertising my biggest, most egregious flaws (in the case of an AI Bro, their own laziness) would be humiliating for me.

But that's none of my business, I suppose.

I guess what I'm saying is I'd rather create something with my own hands that doesn't look very nice as opposed to taking someone else's work and tell everyone it's my own. fun fact: that's a crime called ˚✧₊⁎plagiarism⁎⁺˳✧༚

You wanna be good at something!??! WORK FOR IT.

If a child puts some scribbles on a page, it'll make it on the fridge. Not because it's good, but because it's THEIRS. It was made from LOVE. A love of color, a love of the subject, a love of making a mess and containing it on a piece of paper. IT CAME FROM LOVE.

AI isn't born of love, it's born of laziness. I'm in no wise a real artist like my friends or the people I follow, but AI makes me sick.

Every time I report a bot another one appears and now they’re also posting stolen art fed through an Ai generator, the same one taken right off my deviantart

Fuck AI generating pictures, AI is not art, AI is garbage and theft and anyone who believes it is art can unfollow me right now because I will only speak more unkindly about AI from here on out

[moonlightflower-queen]

Parent with siblings vs parent with no siblings amiright fellas

[haerinyan]

i am officially divorced from this reality. paperwork done. lawyers hired. fees paid. went to court. the bitch can have the kids too because i'm not bringing that baggage with me. we're over.

[moechies]

you literally cannot tell me that kaiser doesn't love period sex... hear me out okie!

he's not the biggest fan at first glance. like any other normal being, he thinks it's rather gross and unhygenic -- i mean the period is literally the lining of your uterus being shed, so he's not the biggest fanatic right off the bat.

it's only when he sees you writhing painfully atop of your shared bed, sniffling into the soft sheets with soft groans. he snoops up behind you, pushing your hair back behind your ear before pressing a chaste kiss against your cheek, asking you what's wrong.

he only coos sadly when you tell him it's your period, and it's hurting real bad. he brings a big, warm hand and clasp it over your tummy, asking if there's anything he can do to help. you only shake your head, the least bit frustrated at his ministrations having being worn from the pain all day, and wanting nothing more but to bask in your pain for a bit.

it's only when he's sitting in your guy's living room, waiting on a pack of pads and some sweets he ordered to be delivered to the home, when he comes across a video that claims: having sex on your period makes your cramps hurt less! he quirks a brow and scoffs, in what world would that even make sense? he's quick to scroll on, but can't deny his suspicion on whether the spewing man was right or not. so he opens a searching browser, and upon further research, and scrolls through r/periodsex on reddit, he deemed the man's claim to be strangely correct.

so he titters himself back into the bedroom where you lay, now scrolling on your computer with an abundance of pillows and sheets surrounding each side of your body, and kaiser chuckles at the sight.

"maus.. you've heard that havin' sex on y'r period can rid your cramps?"

you scoff, on par to his reaction but yours expends a little more anger. "that's so stupid, miche." you scowl a bit, face lightening when he reveals a couple chocolate bars and little sweets from his back.

"i dunno, 'id some research 'nd i think it might be true." he whistles, strolling his way over to you and handing you a bar of chocolate, placing the rest onto your bedside table.

"thank you, miche!" you grin, taking a nibble from the sweet, "but, i don't think your little period thing is true. sounds stupid." you're the same as him. no wonder you guys are so perfect for one another.

"hm," kaiser hums, rubbing his chin, "wha'dya say we test it out, maus?"

and that's how he got you here -- arched evilly as his heavy cock head sides back and forth through your aching slit. it spills with tinted slick, coating his pale-pink shaft red.

"micha," you cry out, terribly embarrassed as his slowed actions. you thought he'd be quick to get it over with for your sake, but he seemed to be enjoying this little 'try-out' way too much. "hurry, s--so embarrassed." you cover your face and whine as he taps his cock against your wet cunt, loud, sloppy noises eliciting from the mess. "embarrassed? how come?" kaiser grins, "nothin' t'be embarrassed about, lovie. 's just me."

"i know b--but... don't want y'to think ‘m gross." you whine, handling at the white sheets.

"nothin' you do is gross, maus." kaiser hums. "you understand?" you nod quickly, knowing just how mean he could get if you even bother trying to talk down on his efforts to love you. "hase, i'll put it in now, yeah? tell if it hurts, swear."

"i will! f--fuck me, miche, pleasee," you whine, shaking your ass up against his erection.

"you're shameless, hase." kaiser laughs, wasting no time before he thumbs at the front of his cock, pressing the crown against your weeping slit. you two gasp simultaneously when he fucks only the tip into your cunt -- fuck.

your pussy is so much hotter, and much more tender than it usually is -- and he knows this fact well enough from the amount of times he's made love to this very pussy. you whine when you feel your tummy churn from another cramp, tears building against your lashline. "oh, fuck, hase." kaiser whines, inching himself bit by bit into your sensitive cunt, a gentle thumb coming down to massage at your swollen, pearly clit. "y'alright, maus? need me to stop? or slow?" kaiser asks considerately despite his urge to not listen even if you do tell him to. god, it feels so damn good.

"no! miche, m--more!" you whine,

"haaah," a soft murmur of 'so hot,' is all he can manage as he shuffles himself further and further into your pussy, coming to a halt when he hears a rather pitched yelp.

"hase? y'alright?" you're breathing heavily, paired up with loud breathy moans. he's never seen you in this state with just his cock shoved into you -- without even moving or any other felt on your body. "'s sensitive, yeah? the ladies online said so, too." kaiser hums, thrusting slightly.

"shu--shut up, micha, just fuck me, 'kay? slowly!"

"y'got it, hase, calm down, 'righ? just enjoy it, miche'll make you feel s'good. so fuckin’ pretty hase.”

and god -- when he looks down after pulling out a slight and sees his cock coated in a deep crimson, he groans so unbelievably loud unlike you've ever heard before. the pretty scarlet in contrast to his white skin is throwing him in a loop, unable to help himself as he humps back inside with little remorse. he whimpers and whines each and every time your quivering pussy clenches his cock over and over -- and he's not even sure if you're aware of what you're doing.

"fuck, maus. f--feels good?" he finally cracks, bringing his hand down again to massage at your clit.

"u--uhuh, good.." you mumble, drooling against the sheets with a bit of tongue poking out. fuck, you're cute."

"cum now, baby, c'mon." kaiser leans over, pressing your body further into the sheets with his chest pressed against your bare back. "you can do it." he whispers, watching you unravel and shudder around his cock with a mean pinch to your clit. "m--miche..!" your thighs shiver, crying as you cum meanly on his cock and messing his shaft with a mixture of your creamy nut and rufous blood.

kaiser groans, fucking you gently to ride out your orgasm. his strokes are slow and deep, making you gasp at each initial thrust. "i'll cum inside." not a question, just a statement, a warning if you will.

and he does just that, unraveling just a mere couple seconds after yours and shooting white ropes of thick spent into your poor pussy. he groans and pants all at once, pulling out with a soft plop and pressing a kiss to your asscheek before pulling at it to admire his artwork.

he whistles in awe, watching his load spill out of you and mix with your blood to create a peony pink -- and although feeling a sense of flailing pride having to see his nut spill out of you, he won't chastise his sweet girl for it this time.

"m--miche..."

"yes, baby. let me clean you up." kaiser grunts with a grin, arms wrapping you into his embrace and taking you to the bathroom. "lets shower, yeah? i'll wash y'r hair f'you."

you press a weak hand against his chest, "b--but did you like it? was it g--gross?" you ask nervously, tiredly, unable to meet the man's eyes.

"no, i told you, i'd never find any part of you gross, maus. i loved it." kaiser chuckles, holding no hint of recline in his cerulean eyes. "you sure?"

kaiser scoffs. the one thing about kaiser is that he never lies. he'll tell you straightforward when he oughts, and you know this much. but you can't seem to hide the impending doom of embarrassment that haunts you in the back of your head, even if he affirms you over and over. "like i'd lie, lovie. don't doubt my honesty now. it was fun, ‘nd yer so pretty everywhere." he pinches at your cheek, earning a playful slap to his chest. "how's your tummy? still hurts?"

you shake your head, "no, doesn't hurt anymore, swear." and kaiser only grins, kissing your forehead gently.

"good, lovie. let me warm the water."

[transcriptroopers]

[Image Description: There are two pictures of pages 19 and 20 from Nur Masalha's "Palestine: a Four Thousand Year History."

The segment reads: "The New Histories of 'Israel:' the Zionist liberal coloniser has often sought to combine 'settler-colonisation' with 'democracy' - two contradictory projects - and this tendency has in recent decades contributed to the emergence of the 'New Histories' of Israel. These new histories have also been backed by the generously funded 'peace process' industry - an industry which has spawned 'new' academic elites, drawn for the most part from the same powerful classes, and repackages discourses which have sought to subsume Palestine and obscure its millennia-long history of the ground under the rubric of 'Israel-Palestine.' One of the most revealing aspects of this new peace industry of 'Israel-Palestine' is found in the much-hyphenated 'Israel-Palestine,' with Israel constructed as a core (primary) political entity and Palestine as a (secondary, marginalised, subordinate) appendage to Israel. These New Histories of Israel are designed to micro-manage, rather than challenge, the impact of ongoing settler-colonialism in Palestine. This anachronism is deployed even when the entire work focuses on Ottoman Palestine (1516-1917) or Mandatory Palestine before the State of Israel came into existence. Israel itself was created in 1948 and by ethnic cleansing the indigenous people of Palestine and founded on the ruins of a country. Works published on the history of Ottoman or Mandatory Palestine are often now packaged as 'New Histories' or 'New Perspectives' on Israel, without the liberal colonisers of these New Histories of Israel bothering to explain why a new state (Israel) which was created in 1948, should come before the name of a country (Palestine) which has existed for millennia. The Zionist New Histories of Israel often claim to 'speak for' and 'represent' everyone, while ignoring that the asymmetry of power and experiences of 'colonised' (Palestine) are fundamentally different from the experiences of the 'coloniser' (Israel). In a famous 1998 article in Al-Ahram online, entitled: 'New History, Old Ideas,' the late Edward Said challenged the Zionist 'New Histories' of Israel, which seek to create artificial symmetry between 'Israel' and 'Palestine' and, on the face of it, bridge the 'narrative gap' between the coloniser (Israel) and colonised (Palestine). In effect, however, the New Histories of Israel seek to represent Palestine and speak for Palestinians, rather than allowing the indigenous people of Palestine to speak for themselves.

End Image Description.]

Highly recommend reading Nur Masalha's "Palestine: a Four Thousand Year History" to deconstruct a lot of the historical myths zionists perpetuate but this is a really great explanation of why using the term "Israel/Palestine" is an inherently violent action that seeks to reinforce Israeli Zionist legitimacy as a colonial entity.

[rodolfoparras]

Thinking about the most homophobic misogynistic dude bro talking shit, maybe it’s in the lock room with the rest of his friends, making a whole spectacle out of the two dudes he saw kissing or holding hands

Cw: forced feminization, 18+, top male reader, dom male reader

But you notice the way he shifts from one leg to another, eyes wandering over to your own almost as if fearing you’ll say something you shouldn’t -like how he’d showed up to your dorm last night, sober for once and with his hard on showing through his sweatpants, moments before you had him bouncing on your cock.

Despite having been the one to initiate things, he’d been reluctant to let you know he was enjoying it, with his teeth digging into his bottom lip to the point where blood was trickling down his throat, desperately trying to suppress any sort of noise from escaping his mouth. Hell he refused to move his hips on his own even though he’d been the one to tell you to hurry the fuck up and fuck his pretty little hole (five words you had coaxed forced out of the other man) You had to fuck him back onto your cock, nails digging into the plush skin and working him up and down your dick.

Not that you minded much especially not when he’d ever so often let out wails and whines and you could feel his walls clenching down on your cock and you didn’t waste a second asking if his pretty pussy likes that or if the pretty princess is feeling good. He’d only respond by telling you to shut the fuck up, even spat in your face once but hell that didn’t stop him from riding your dick till he finally reached his orgasm.