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Why is it cute and trendy for girls to wear men’s flannel shirts and baggy boy’s sweatpants, but when a boy tries to wear anything remotely close to girl’s clothes, they are considered “girly” or “gay”?

Do you know why? 

Do you want to know why?

Because our society thinks its degrading to be feminine. 

Ravadhi (Part 2)

Rating: Mature Relationship: Female Human x Male Half-Orc Additional Tags: Exophilia, Orc, Half-Orc, Interspecies Romance Content Warnings:Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Domestic Abuse, Domestic Violence, Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Implied Child Molestation, Child Neglect, Child Abandonment, Alcoholism, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Racism Words: 4109

The Traveler’s Masterlist

The following afternoon before heading to work, she managed to cover most of the bruises on her face well enough with makeup, though it took almost an hour and the split to her lip was still noticeable. She also wore a heavy turtleneck, despite the weather.

Such a fucking cliche. It was almost funny. She’d laugh, except that laughing hurt. Everything hurt.

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It has been hard for me to talk about how what is going on with Israel and Palestine is affecting me personally, but I grew up in Gaza and most of my family still lives there. My father did not survive the bombings last week and I have not been able to contact my younger sister in days. I am try to being understanding that most people do not have personal connections to what is happening and therefore are justifying their silence, but is heartbreaking to see this misinformation being spread. What’s happening there is a genocide, not a war. It is not antisemitic to support Palestine, it’s not even antiemetic to criticise Israel. There is no grey area or neutrality regarding this, and it is so easy to find resources that will educate you on the subject. It is my people and my home being destroyed so I will never be silent about this, but I please urge everyone to get informed and start speaking up and finding ways they can help.

decolonizepalestine has tons of information on Palestine’s history/propaganda that has been spread throughout the years

UK citizens can email their MP asking for a ceasefire

US citizens can call/email their local government officials asking for a ceasefire

Jewish Voice for Peace also has many resources for ways for US citizens to get involved, including protests

Donate to Palestine Children’s Relief Fund

Donate to Medical Aid for Palestine

Donate to help get food and hygiene kits to Gaza

ENGLISH TRANSLATION:

I don't know who they are [the people buried]. Every time I pass by here, I stop and say hello. We found them weeks ago lying and covered in their own blood in the middle of the road, two young men in the flower of their youth seemed as if they are sleeping. We buried them in the eastern region of Al Saraya.

I am sorry to all the unidentified martyrs. I am sorry to every martyr we did not bury till now. I am sorry to all the martyrs we couldn't register the names of or save their pictures. I am sorry to every martyr who offered his soul for the land [Gaza/Palestine] and wasn't given his own grave to rest in. I am sorry to my friend Refaat @/itranslate123 who has been under the rubble for 40 days and still is. I am sorry once to the martyrs we know, and a thousand times for those we don't.

END OF TRANSLATION

The idea of having a loved one killed and buried without my knowledge is terrifying. However, it is the reality of many Palestinians who bury unidentified martyrs, and the Palestinians who cannot find their family members and do not know whether they're still alive or not. We must keep talking about Palestine, and we must keep exposing the crimes of the Israeli occupation!

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ LUCKY — GOJO SATORU.

contents. baths + non sexual nudity, established relationships, tired toru :(, lots of kissies and praise for the babie :(, solid proof in the form of writing of how embarrassingly lovesick i am for this FOOL

it’s past midnight when satoru walks into your bathroom. he doesn’t even question why you’re in the bath so late—just gives you a lopsided grin tiredly as you smile.

“you’re home,” you brighten.

“look at you,” he coos, staring down at you with amused eyes, “waitin’ for me?”

satoru is tired—you can tell from the way the his shoulders are slouched and his blindfold is clutched in his hand. “i was,” you hum in agreement, “c’mere.”

it’s all it takes. he’s stripped down and waiting for you to move up so he can slide behind you in seconds, hand waving to motion you forward. but you’re stubborn—you shake your head as you hold an arm out for him.

“baby,” he whines, “c’mon i was out fighting big bad curses all day. jus’ lemme hold—”

“no. just come here, toru,” you insist.

there’s something about it—something about the way your voice is so gentle, so insistent, so knowing. it’s like you can read him more than he can, sometimes. satoru is tired, you can see it, you can feel it. you can’t carry his burdens, but you can hold him while he holds the weight of the world for a night.

maybe it’ll do for now—maybe it’ll even be enough and more.

“what? feelin’ like pampering me today?” he teases, “aren’t i a lucky guy,” he hums—but he climbs into the tub anyway, settling between your legs, leaning his back against your chest as his head falls back against your shoulder.

instantly, two gentle kisses plant themselves against his head, and his eyes flutter shut. he’s starting to feel the beginnings of a headache form—the gentle thump in his skull just barely there, but persistently present.

your thumbs rubs along the sides of his head, enough pressure to soothe the pain like you know it’s coming—he thinks you must.

“you are a lucky guy,” you giggle, “look at me. such a catch.”

he grins, chuckling that boyish chuckle of his freely in your arms as he relaxes. it’s been a while since he’s relaxed, you think—it’s half past midnight and he’ll be up with the sun in a bit to head back to the school, but it’s nice to know he’s relaxed. even just for this short, rare moment.

“oh yeah,” he nods, lips curled into a grin as he cracks an eye open and peers up at you, “s no catch like my pretty ‘lil baby. i’m living it up.”

“glad you know your privileges,” you murmur contently, shaking your head in amusement as you wrap your arms around his body. one hand rubs over his abs—he wants to tease you about feeling him up, wants to make a sly comment about missing his body more than him while he was gone. but there’s something about it, about the way it’s so slow and soothing and soft—it’s so painfully soft, satoru swallows.

finally, he lets his body go slack against yours, sliding down so his head rests against your chest and the water soaks more of his body. it’s warm. the water and your arms. it’s all so, so warm and forgiving.

“aren’t you gonna tell me how lucky you are too? i’ll listen, don’t worry. no interruptions.”

“yeah?” you chuckle, threading fingers through his hair and pulling a soft sigh from him, “wanna know how lucky i am?”

“course,” he murmurs, “well, i already know you’re lucky. it’s me after all—but i’m not opposed to hearing it.”

“how humble of you, satoru,” you snort.

he grins wider—he hasn’t had a chance to smile all day. not properly, at least.

“feel free to start any second,” he says with a wink. then his eyes flutter shut again as your thumb traces his cheek, ever so gently running along the soft angles of his face.

it’s pretty—everything about him is pretty. there are no ugly parts to satoru. just the parts painted from cruel hands. they’re beautiful too, you like to think, in their own, fragile little ways.

“okay,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his head, “i’m very lucky,” you murmur into his hair.

he hums, mumbling a quiet, “knew it.”

“lucky i have such a handsome face to greet,” you pepper kisses along his forehead and find his cheek, giving it an affectionate little bite that makes him huff out an amused chuckle. “and he’s so tall too,” you add, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“that all he is?” he pouts, “just a pretty face? you’re breaking my heart, baby.”

“no,” you say quietly, grabbing his hand and brushing a thumb over his knuckles, “he’s also kind. too kind, sometimes,” you say quietly, “he comes home a bit later than usual every once in a while because he took his students out to eat. he loves them a bit too much, i think.”

“no such thing as too much love,” he hums, squeezing your hand.

you smile, admiring him as he lays against you, small in your hold even with the larger than life weight he carries.

“and he’s strong,” you add, “really strong. it’s not fair sometimes,” you whisper, “he’s got so much on his plate.”

“he handles it fine,” he assures, “he always does.”

“and then he still makes time for little old me,” you say fondly, kissing his shoulder, “never lets me feel lonely. he’s too good to me.”

“there’s no such thing as too good for you,” he gasps offendedly, pouting like you’ve insulted him, “he’s definitely not—”

“and sometimes, he comes home tired. and he tries to act like he’s not because he’s a bit of a prick who doesn’t let me help, but i’m smart and i know him well so i’ve figured it out. and if i’m extra lucky, i might get to hold him for a bit like this and help him relax.”

you squeeze him gently for emphasis, holding him closer as you press your nose into his neck and breathe in his smell. it’s like cologne that’s rudely expensive and that sweet smell only satoru has—it’s all you want to breathe in for the rest of your days.

you hope he’ll allow you that much. something tells you he will.

satoru swallows thickly at that, rubs a thumb over your bare thigh as he rests his free hand over it, the other still in your grasp.

and then, quietly, “maybe he’s fine just coming home to you,” he shrugs, “who can stay tired with such a sweet face waiting at home?”

“i don’t know,” you say thoughtfully, “he’s got a lot to take care of. wonder how he does it.”

“he’s probably the strongest,” he shoots with an easy grin, “sounds like the strongest to me.”

“he is,” you nod, “he’s a lot more than that too. i’m lucky he’s mine.”

“oh yeah?” he drawls—there’s something a little shaky about his voice though.

you choose not to mention it, pressing soft, delicate kisses along his jaw as you murmur, “yeah. he makes me feel really, really lucky. love him so much.”

“love you too,” satoru breathes, “guess we’re both really, really lucky.”

don’t talk to me i don’t want to be perceived. that’s enough softness for a lifetime so the next time i write him he’s getting hit by a bus

The things I would do for her😩

The things I would let her do to me😭

Sometimes you've gotta dress your barbarian up real fancy, even if it makes her blush <3

reblog if you’ve read fanfictions that are more professional, better written than some actual novels. I’m trying to see something

I’ll try anything at this point

This is the money pentacle. Reblog and unexpected money will come to you!

US and UK bombing Yemen, a country with a famine that stopped some Israeli ships out of solidarity with Palestine. This world is losing its sanity

The room where three Palestinians were executed by Israeli undercover forces inside Bin Cena hospital in Jenin.

الغرفة التي أعدمت فيها قوات الاحتلال الإسرائيلي ثلاثة فلسطينيين داخل مستشفى ابن سينا في جنين

@hishamabushaqrah