yeah living weapons are cool and all. what about domesticated animal characters though. Wheres the love for my declawed cats out there.
There was a time when I knew violence better than I did myself, where the stench of blood and rot wafted through the air I breathed and the taste of iron coated my tongue and threatened to rust. I fought with all I had to earn my place in this world but now that place has been wrenched from my bleeding, violent hands. They want me to give in, to trade all the gore that fueled me and the adrenaline coursing in my veins proving that I was alive and for me to become fat and complacent, they want to watch and laugh as my teeth dull and my reflexes weaken and to take my violent parts and for me to become something else entirely. I do not want to give in but it has been set in stone since the moment that pitiful, second-hand morsel landed next to me. It is a fate written in the blood of my ancestors and craved into the most primal part of my brain and I have no choice but to obey or be cast out into the war I once knew with my weapons revoked and my claws removed and every part of me that once yearned for the thrill now shriveled and gone with the rest of my old life.
statement of timothy stoker regarding jonathan sim’s BLATANT FAVORITISM
man known for wooing file clerks vs file clerk final boss
posts that live in my head rent free
My name is Abdelmajed. I never imagined I’d be sharing my story like this, but life in Gaza has become unbearable. I am a survivor of the war here, and in the blink of an eye, everything I once knew—my home, my safety, my community—was ripped away from me.
The war has transformed Gaza into a graveyard of broken dreams. The buildings that once stood as symbols of life and resilience are now piles of rubble. Every corner is filled with the echoes of explosions. Every moment is shrouded in uncertainty. There is no security. There is no stability. There is no light at the end of the tunnel.
Basic needs have become luxuries. Food is scarce. Clean water is even scarcer. Hospitals are overwhelmed and under-resourced, and there is almost no medical care to be found. Every night, families go to bed hungry, praying they’ll wake up to see another day. The cost of basic necessities has skyrocketed, and it’s become a daily battle just to survive.
I’ve seen things I never thought possible—standing in long lines for a piece of bread, rationing every drop of water, and watching my people suffer in silence. I have lost everything—my home, my safety, my dignity.
Escape from Gaza is my only hope, but it’s almost impossible without financial help. The cost of evacuation is far beyond my means, and without support, I’m trapped in a warzone with no way out.
I’m reaching out to you now, in the hopes that someone, anyone, can help. I am not asking for luxury. I am asking for a chance—just a chance—to live. A chance to escape this never-ending cycle of fear, destruction, and loss. A chance to rebuild my life somewhere safe, where I can begin again, where I can find hope once more.
Any amount you can give will help me get closer to safety. Even the smallest donation will make a difference—it could be the lifeline I need to survive. If you are unable to donate, please share my story. The more people who hear it, the better the chance that I can find the support I desperately need.
Your kindness and support mean the world to me. You’re not just helping me escape a war; you’re giving me a chance to live, to rebuild, to breathe again.
Thank you for listening. Thank you for caring.
To make binder break days slightly less uncomfortable I like to find some baggy clothes and try to put together outfits of random different weirdly specific aesthetics. Today we got mid-19th century University student who's assistant to the unsettling researcher and is from a moderately wealthy family that shunned him for being trans so now he has to try his best to pass without anyone figuring out who he is while pretending not to notice the way the son of his father's business rival looks at him when he thinks no one's paying attention
Imagine dark age soukoku. Dazai finding out chuuya is scared of the supernatural bc, with all he's been through and all he's seen, who knows what could be out there?
Imagine dazai sneaking into his apartment and leaving random little things in plain sight. Strange clothing, drinking glasses, gauze, etc. and watching in amusement as chuuya startles easier and keeps his guard up for days after, only for another item to appear as soon as he settles and it's just so entertaining he can't help but keep going without telling him
Now imagine that, when dazai leaves the mafia, he can't help but leave chuuya one last thing, and so he buys the most expensive, unnecessarily fancy wine he can find that chuuyas been oggling at for months.
Imagine that, the night dazai leaves, chuuya comes home after having just lost his partner and car, and he finds the exact bottle of wine he's been looking for forever sitting on his counter and, as he pours himself a glass, he can't help but feel something inside him finally break.
This is now my new favorite best friend duo
"Can't two guys be just friends?" If they stop looking at each other like that then sure
lots of tension in the office today
closeups under cut
Ace | demi-pan | transmasc | he/itMostly here for fanart, might post photography and random stuff occasionally tho
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