Choso Gets So Lost In The Feeling Of Your Pussy That He Fucks You Till He Can’t Stop. Tears Rolling

In the absence of a clear and obvious angle to attack Bushnell’s protest, most likely due to his status as a serviceman that would make outright insulting him or suppressing the news itself scandalous, discussions on Western shores have now taken on the familiar framing of mental illness. In Time Magazine’s write-up of Bushnell’s death, the article finishes with a link to the suicide hotline, and asks readers to contact mental health providers if they are experiencing a “crisis.” Mark Joseph Stern, a writer at Slate, seemingly unasked, also wrote on Twitter/X:

“I strongly oppose valorizing any form of suicide as a noble, principled, or legitimate form of political protest. People suffering mental illness deserve empathy and respect, but it is wildly irresponsible to praise them for using a political justification to take their own life.”

Conviction does not exist to the American. To be willing to die in a selfless act for what they believe in only exists for those outside America's sphere of influence. Many will recall reporting on those who self-immolated in protest in Iran and in Russia for instance where this sort of approach, unwilling to engage with the root of its cause, would not even be entertained, let alone written and published with sincerity. The Arab Spring began with a self-immolation. The self-immolation of Buddhist monks in protest of South Vietnam’s persecution became defining images of the war and its corruption. Within America’s walls however, there is a belief, unspoken and ingrained from birth, that democracy allows for everyone’s voices to be heard and that its representatives are inherently inclined to respond to the people and their widespread wishes.

Desperation at inaction or complicity in terror and atrocity need not apply. Everyone incensed by their government to such an extent must simply have something wrong with them. To be able to go about one’s day knowing that children are screaming from the hunger that is eating their insides and that pregnant women are eating bread made from animal feed, and that the United States is supporting Israel’s creation of this famine, is apparently the real sign of well-adjustment.

Seamus Malekafzali, “The Words Burned Through His Throat: The Sacrifice of Aaron Bushnell,” February 26, 2024.

Bakugo masterlist

ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏɴᴇ ꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ (ʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴛʜᴀɴ 2.0ᴋ ᴇᴀᴄʜ )

ꜱʜᴀʀɪɴɢ ɪꜱ ᴄᴀʀɪɴɢ ✧.* ᴍᴀᴛʜ ʜᴏᴍᴇᴡᴏʀᴋ ✧.* ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ᴄʜᴇꜱꜱ ✧.* ꜱᴘᴏʀᴛꜱ ꜰᴇꜱᴛɪᴠᴀʟ ✧.* ɪɴᴊᴜʀᴇᴅ ✧.* ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ʙᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ ✧.* ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴇᴇᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ ✧.* ᴘʜᴇʀᴏᴍᴏɴᴇ ᴘᴇʀꜰᴜᴍᴇ ✧.* ʟɪɢʜᴛ ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘᴇʀ ✧.* ꜱɪᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɢᴀᴍᴇ ✧.* ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ✧.* ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜꜱʏ ✧.* ᴋɴᴏᴛꜱ ✧.* ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ

ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴɴᴏɴꜱ (ʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴛʜᴀɴ 0.2ᴋ)

ʙ.ᴋ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴋɪɴᴅᴇʀɢᴀʀᴛᴇɴ ᴛᴇᴀᴄʜᴇʀ ๋࣭ ⭑ ʜɪᴅᴅᴇɴ ᴠᴇɢɢɪᴇꜱ ๋࣭ ⭑ʀᴀᴍᴇɴ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ๋࣭ ⭑ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ᴜᴘ

ᴀʟʟ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ (6.5ᴋ ᴛᴏᴛᴀʟ)

ɪᴍ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴏʏ ☽｡⋆ ᴛʜᴀᴛꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴏᴡ ɪᴛ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ☽｡⋆ ɪ ꜱᴇᴛ ᴍʏꜱᴇʟꜰ ᴏɴ ꜰɪʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀʀᴍ

ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʀ ᴀʀᴄ (ʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴛʜᴀɴ 4.0ᴋ ᴛᴏᴛᴀʟ)

ᴘᴛ 1 ✮⋆˙ ᴘᴛ 2

ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ♡ (2.8 ᴋ)

ꜱᴛᴜᴄᴋ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ

ᴘᴛ1

ᴀꜱᴋꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ (2.6ᴋ ᴛᴏᴛᴀʟ)

ꜰɪʀᴇꜰɪɢʜᴛᴇʀ ᴘᴛ.1 ⋆·˚ ꜰɪʀᴇꜰɪɢʜᴛᴇʀ ᴘᴛ.2

𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚐𝚞𝚢. 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚎'𝚕𝚕 𝚓𝚞𝚖𝚙 𝚜𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚝.

𝚙𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜. 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗?

ngl, not so good. have this massive headache that’s been persisting since 5 pm (it’s currently 8 pm)…

besides that, it’s been quiet. what about you, pooks? <3

Please Reblog is Your Blog is Safe for Non-Binary People.

If my mutuals can’t rb this then we can’t be mutuals

Rafah is currently under bombardment, so I will spreading as much links as I can possibly can. If I miss any, please add on if you can

Help Mayar and her family

Help Nour

Help Marah Owda escape Gaza

Help Sobhe and his family escape Gaza

Help Razan and family escape from Gaza

Help Ahmed’s family escape Gaza

Help the Zamli family evacuate

Help this handicapped child escape Gaza

Help this family get out of Gaza

Help this family evacuate

Help Salah’s family

Help evacuate this family to safety

Help this family survive

Help Zayn’s family

Help Mohammed’s family

Help Abdullah Salem’s family

Help Dalia Masoud and her family

Help Mahmoud’s family

Help Eyad’s family

Help Osama’s family evacuate

Help Dr. Abdelwahab and his family

Help this displaced family

Help Abood and his family leave Gaza

Help Lara Sharif evacuate her family to safety

Help secure this family

Help Muhammed evacuate his family

Help Walid and family escape

Help Sarah Aljamal and her family

Help Walaa and her family evacuate from Gaza

Help Aya evacuate her sick mother from Gaza

Help Mohamed Zaqout’s brother escape Gaza

Help Bayan Meghari and her family

Help evacuate this injured father out of Gaza

Help Hossam and his family

Help evacuate the Abu Halabia family

Help treat Mulataf who has brain disease

Help a family of 7 evacuate Gaza

Help this child with cerebral palsy evacuate

Help Abdalla Mughari and his family

Help the Alashi family

Help Ghadeer Saeed’s family

Help Yousef and Khaled Al-Sultan’s family

Help Firas protect his family

Help Moneer and his family

Help Aya Adham get treatment for her hematoma

Links masterpost 1

Links masterpost 2

Links masterpost 3

Links masterpost 4

Please keep Palestine in your minds tonight and onwards even with distractions like the Oscars, helping the people is more important

reblog if you think sign language should be taught as a language in schools.

Addict

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

• MDNI!! (18+)

——————————————————————————

Bakugou had never had a real girlfriend before you. Sure, he’d kissed a few girls, gotten a handjob or two—hell, maybe even gone down on someone once—but sex? That was something he never cared to try. Not until you.

The moment he finally had you, it was over. Katsuki was insatiable. Obsessed. A damn addict. If he wasn’t thinking about touching you, he was already doing it. Sneaking into your dorm when everyone else was asleep just to have you, only to wake you up hours later for another round before first period. He didn’t give a damn if you were tired—his hands were already pulling you close, lips pressing against your ear as he growled something filthy about how much he needed you.

Study sessions? Yeah, those were a joke. He’d start with his books open, acting like he gave a shit, but the second you leaned in too close or bit your lip in concentration, they were forgotten. Before you knew it, he had you bent over the desk, one hand gripping your hip, the other covering your mouth to muffle your moans.

Skipping training? It started as an accident—one missed session because he was too busy pinning you to his bed, your fingers tangled in his hair as he lost himself in you. Then once turned into twice, and before he knew it, he was making excuses to Kirishima, shrugging off practice like it wasn’t a big deal. After all, he had a new favorite way to work up a sweat.

And in between classes? During lunch? If he could find an empty space—an unused classroom, a janitor’s closet, even the back of the school building—he was taking advantage of it. It didn’t matter if you whined about getting caught, he’d just smirk, pressing you against the wall and murmuring,

“Then you better keep quiet, sweetheart.”

He never thought he’d be this desperate for someone. This hungry. This fucking gone. But you? You turned him into something unrecognizable—something downright feral. A fucking addict.

YES PLEASE AHHHHH THE WAY I NEED HIM IS FERAL.

Shinsou will tell you with a straight face that he doesn’t get jealous but if anyone looks at you for too long he presses a kiss to your neck while making direct eye contact with them

Sometimes, asking for donations on Tumblr feels like shouting into the void, with nothing left but tagging people in the hope that someone will notice. The sense of despair grows with every ignored plea, like drowning while screaming with no one to hear. If you can help, please consider donating—every little bit makes a difference.