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nick · 1 year

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Fax Intergration

For fun I thinking about setting up a fax number that when you fax something to it, it posts on a tumblr blog. I just think it would be so much fun. Anyone want to help me build it? By help I mean write all the code while I think up a funny phone number/blog name.

#tumblr #faxes forever

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miks-fantrolls · 1 year

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Hypoxia

(Content warning: violence, drowning) Google Docs

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hypoxia: Noun. Refers to low oxygen conditions —---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Darkness.

An inky blackness surrounds you. No light accompanies the burning in your chest. Your chest is burning, your throat is aflame, and your lungs are on fire. Yet as you go to speak, you find you have no voice. No mouth. You try to move but can't even feel if a body is connected to you. Who are you? Do you have a name? No words come to your mind—if you even have one. What are you?

Do you even exist?

"Captain Lovikk!"

You suddenly become aware of your office. Warm lights illuminate the desk before you and the crew member standing just beyond. They have a rag tied around their head that covers a missing eye—although you can't recall which mission they lost it on or who they really are. You don't even remember their name, and you’re reminded of the high turnover rate of your crew; whenever one is lost, ten more are waiting to take their place. Who wouldn't be vying to work with Pirate Captain Lovikk, Terror of the Twenty-Seven Seas?

You can't seem to remember what you were doing before this very moment. It was something to do with fire, perhaps arson? Whatever it was, you can't remember now. Your face contorts with frustration, and you glare at the person in front of you.

"What is it?" you snap. Your crew ought to have enough sense to leave you alone when you’re in your personal quarters.

Your lackey stands motionless before you. Their red rag, stark against their pale gray skin, strangely unwraps itself from the troll’s head and floats down to the floorboards. You hardly remember them having dark, empty sockets where their eyes once were. Yet strangely, you don't feel disturbed. You've seen far worse atrocities. Putrid, murky green liquid begins to leak from their gaunt, sunken face, and still, they maintain their eerie stillness. Suddenly, an unnatural volume of water projectiles from their mouth, far more than any person should be able to bear.

A torrent of stagnant water sluggishly seeps around your boots, accompanied by a plethora of slimy water weeds. The water chillingly splatters your skin with icy droplets as it is pulled under the weight of gravity. The sensation of the cold water causes an agonizing chill to course its way up your spine, the only thing you feel besides scorn for your motionless subordinate. Your frustration grows as the silence from the other party persists.

Finally, you stomp angrily toward them, rage and hate bubbling up inside you like a cauldron of boiling tar. Your every footstep carries a thunderous echo that sends a shudder through the air as you approach, your intent clear.

You bulldoze past the troll, your shoulder making contact with theirs as you snarl, "Get out of my way. You're useless!" Your voice drips with contempt.

The troll lethargically obeys, their only action dragging their feet as they spin and observe you with a deadened stare.

As you climb the stairs up to the weather deck, you feel suffocated. It's as if the air itself has become a lifeless, oppressive force, crushing your lungs and dragging you down toward a watery grave. Your bellowsacs struggle to pull in a complete take of air. It feels as if air is being pulled away from you—as if the atmosphere is being squeezed, tighter and tighter, by an invisible force.

The stairs loom menacingly above you, seeming to stretch on for eternity. As you ascend, your pace slows to a mere crawl, as if you are being held back by forces unknown. Behind you, the gun deck is filled with putrid, icy seawater that swirls around your ankles. The previously illuminated lights now flicker eerily below you, casting strange, intermittent shadows on the murky depths. You can feel the cold, slimy waves licking hungrily at your Achilles as if the water itself is alive and eager to consume you.

You find the rest of your crew as you ascend to the top. They all stand eerily still, swayed only by the vessel's lurching. The waves bellow as they slam into the hull, showering the decks with a spray of brine and foam. Visibility is nonexistent beyond the prow, where the world is shrouded in an impenetrable mist of inky darkness, punctuated by the staccato of rain and the occasional, wrathful flashes of lightning.

The deafening noise assaults your ears, a discordant wail that pierces your eardrums and drills into your skull. It is a cacophony of sound that is unmistakably silent, a never-ending symphony of nothing that your mind is unable to comprehend. The sensation is overwhelming, a relentless barrage of empty noise that slowly numbs your senses.

"What are you all doing?" you attempt to yell furiously. You retch as the salty seawater fills your mouth, feeling like you just drank an ocean. You try to scream out in frustration, but the loud and oppressive waves drown out any sound of your voice.

You finally step onto the wooden deck, and all eyes turn to you. The sight that greets you is horrifying—each of your crewmates stares back at you with empty, soulless eyes, their bodies oozing water like grotesque fountains. You are met with the same macabre, hollow gaze everywhere you look. Your bloodpusher begins to race—not in fear, but in anger.

"What is wrong with you all?!" you scream, your voice barely piercing through the cacophony of sound. "We're in the middle of a storm!"

The wind shrieks around you with a ferocity meant to tear you from the deck, but you press onward, determined to reach the main mast's shrouds. You can barely hear yourself think over the creaking of timber and howling wind. As you trek, you realize the storm may as well be a full-blown hurricane. You bellow an order to reef the sails, but it is too late—the force of the wind is simply too great, the sails already torn to ribbons and flapping madly in the gale.

"You're all useless!" Your crew be damned. Apparently, you must do it yourself if you want it done. You hoist yourself up along the ratlines. Several ropes have already come undone in the storm, lashing like an angry whip. You brace yourself against the thrashes, the bottoms of your boots threatening to slip every inch you shuffle.

You scream out in frustration as the ship rocks from side to side, buffeted by the raging storm. Waves crash against the ship, threatening to break it apart. You resign yourself to the task, heaving yourself up the ratlines. Several ropes have already come undone in the storm, lashing like an angry whip. The cords slice against your skin, the force of the storm threatening to whip you off the ship's side. You cling to the ropes and brace yourself against the thrashes, the bottoms of your boots threatening to slip every inch you shuffle.

The rope beneath your step snaps. Your slicked hands lose grip, and you begin to fall. Too focused on other things while climbing—so stupid, you should have been paying more attention. You had been too focused on other things, too distracted to pay attention to the climb. You know this fall will not be the one that takes your life, yet you know it will hurt all the same. The rope, however, is not ready to let you go just yet. It wraps itself around you, driven by the howling wind and the raging storm. You desperately reach for your sword in a last-ditch effort to free yourself. You hack wildly, slicing through what you can. Something snaps, and you feel the rope start to give, only to be replaced by the sensation of falling again.

Instead of a hardwood floor, you're met with the sickening slither of hands. Tens of them, crawling and grasping everywhere. Hundreds of them, writhing and clawing through the air. Thousands of them, reaching out and pulling you towards them like a merciless tide.

Your crew is upon you like a flock of vultures. Their boots thud against the wood in a frenzy, louder than the thunderous storm and crashing waves. Louder even than your own screams. You twist and turn, desperately trying to avoid the grimy nails and frayed rope, but there's no escape from their relentless pursuit.

It's a sea of faces--all sickly, seemingly starved pale and gaunt faces with seawater streaming from their eyes and mouths. When you focus on one face, you can see all the others contorting and twisting their features into distorted, wretched expressions in the corner of your vision. Your eyes dart around wildly, desperately trying to capture them in the act, only to feel your sanity slipping away. You didn't have this many trolls in your crew. There's far more than the ship should even be able to carry, and they are all staring right at you.

You gasp desperately for oxygen in the sea of bodies, only to be met with thick and rancid air. You struggle against the flow, realizing that you are being inexorably pushed closer to the edge of the vessel. A faint whisper in your subconscious begins to grow louder. Yet, you can barely distinguish what it is saying amid the cacophony of sounds that assail your senses. Your fins and face are forcefully gripped by cruel grasps. You feel your flesh rip and shred as you are violently dragged toward the larboard side, your screams an ominous addition to the deafening symphony of clamor.

“Captain, we will be approaching the Sea of Miylas soon. The crew wanted your thoughts on—”

“What have I told you about disturbing me in my quarters?” You slammed your pen down on the desk and stood up in a single motion.

The troll with the blue necktie took a step back, their hands frozen near their chest. They struggled to relax their tensed body, their apprehension emanating as they set their face and straightened their browline.

“Captain,” they spoke in a lower tone.

When you gave a command, you expected others to listen—insubordination was one of the many things you could not stand. Rage burned like a fireball in your throat, radiating to your fingertips.

Within a few steps, you were chest-to-chest with the troll, your menacing presence looming over them. At one time, the two of you had been the same height; maybe you had even been a touch shorter. Now, you hung over them like a tower of scar and muscle.

“What have I told you?” The words came out like the steamy hiss of a pipe.

What was once a faint hiss now surges as you're danced closer and closer to the railing. The crew shouts something in unison, but you still can't make it out over the downpour of weather. The rhythmic syllables pound against the insides of your skull. Anything you try to shout is overpowered. Opening your mouth at all is a mistake, ending with filthy fingers and seawater trying to drown you.

A chorus of incomprehensible chanting echoes from the crew, yet their lips remain motionless. You're filled with a paralyzing dread as the dissonance between their sound and stillness fills you with terror. Then, you're consumed with an overwhelming sense of rage; never before have you experienced such a feeling.

"You fools!" you scream. You bite off any digits thrust toward your face, ripping hands with your sharp teeth and feeling the warmth of the blood spilling from their wounds. You savor the metallic taste that lingers on your tongue. You laugh maniacally as you choke down the saltwater that assails your face, unable to ignore the wretchedness of the salty liquid. "You IMBECILES! Do you think this pathetic rebellion will do anything for you?! Do you think it will make your lives any better?! HA!"

The troll stared up at you with hard eyes, unmoving. The absence of a reaction stirred the fire of anger growing inside you, and you grit your teeth. You prided yourself on intimidation. Rarely did an inferior of yours necessitate progression past it.

The troll's cold, hard eyes stared up at you, radiating dismal energy that seemed to seep through the walls and floor. Your stomach churning, you felt the anger rising inside you, your fists clenching in frustration. You took pride in your ability to intimidate, yet you rarely needed to resort to more extreme measures.

“Stop this, Lovikk.” The troll’s deep voice sank into the stiff air of the room. Their words slowly saturated the atmosphere, bleeding into the walls, the floor. Surrounding you. An absence of light in the troll’s eyes tempted you, trying to draw you into the inky depths of powerlessness.

A deep, guttural growl erupted from your throat, ignited by an inferno of your wrath. Not even words could escape the consuming heat of your ire. The fire inside you blazed higher, its heat licking your lips.

The troll’s face seemed to collapse, their brow sagging over their eyes. The wrinkles above their nose evaporated, revealing a worn and aged visage you had never seen before. Deep lines of weariness creased their forehead and the corners of their mouth; dark circles under their eyes betrayed a world-weary despair. Any youthful hue had been replaced by a deathly pallor, the skin stretched thin over protruding bones. This was not the familiar troll you had known and loved. This was a stranger, an unrecognizable shell of the person you once knew.

You teeter upon the railing, the wind tearing at your clothes, as a cacophony of thunder and lightning crashes around you. The jagged peaks of the sea seem to reach for the sky as if in an unholy embrace. The murky depths below fill with the icy spray of the vessel's keel. With one slip, you'll plunge into the depths below. The thought of that long fall fills you with dread.

Resisting gravity is a fruitless endeavor, but you persist in your struggle. The aged wood beneath your feet creaks and groans as the crew holds you up, the fraying ropes above lashing you as you scream in terror.

"I swear I'll make each and every one of you pay! You can't kill me. I'm Captain Aipalo Lovikk, Terror of the Twenty-Seven Seas! I was born of these waters, and you will only make me stronger!" You're so close to the edge. Desperation and rage pound in your veins. "I'll come back and hunt you down one by one, and I won't stop until I've killed you all and destroyed everyone you've ever loved!"

"Aipalo." Their voice sliced through your rage like a blade of frost. "Come back to us." The troll's rough touch encompassed your fist, coaxing it upwards. Their grip tightened around your hand, like a vise, as if to never let go. "Come back to us. Come back to me."

Captain Aipalo Lovkik, Terror of the Twenty-Seven Seas, was not a man who wavered. Whatever pangs of sorrow you felt deep in your core, past the heart of your flame—you wouldn’t truly acknowledge it. Like a steel maw, the ferocity of your wrath snapped closed at once, severing the final connection between you and them.

Your fist shot into the other troll’s chest, hurling them backward. They landed on the veneered planks with a resounding, satisfactory thud. Capitalizing on the opportunity, you lunged at them, gripping their front collar and yanking them up with one motion. You held them before you, close enough that their eyes were level with yours. Their expression was unreadable—they were just another faceless minion to you now.

The sight of your second-in-command causes your final words to stick in your throat. Through the writhing mass of trolls, you can make out the familiar sight of your comrades. They are lined up along the railing of the opposing side of the ship, balancing precariously as if it were second nature. One by one, they each raise their left hand, each holding a noose that has been tightly knotted. Your quartermaster is first, followed by your master-at-arms, sailing master, helmsman, doctor... All the way down the line.

Then, you drop.

The water is a deep, dark abyss, and with the cold rain that has already soaked your skin, you feel your breath catch as you take the plunge into the frozen depths. You've been trained to suppress that instinctive gasp of shock, but still, you feel the chill running through your veins. You swallow, salt and silver taste running down your throat.

One, two—six lashes. Seven. Nine.

The bosun stopped periodically, glancing at you with anticipation, expecting you to call for an end to the punishment. Yet, you stood firm and resolute among your crew, unyielding and with your arms crossed firmly over your chest.

Out through the nose, in through the gills.

You didn’t care how many it took. It didn’t matter that the troll with the blue necktie was your second-in-command. Rules are rules are rules.

“Do you understand why you are being punished, ______?” You sneered as you raised your voice—all eyes were on you, and you enjoyed every second of it. You knew they were scared.

Out through the nose, in through the gills.

The troll writhed silently, their tan pants dripping with blood that ran in rivers down their bare back, now little more than a mass of shredded meat. The wooden boards beneath them glistened sleekly. Their fists trembled in the cuffs that kept them upright against the shrouds as the crew looked on. Their misery was a sweet sound upon your ears.

“I said-“

"Yes!" they interrupted, yet instead of agitating you, it only caused your mouth to quirk in a delightfully sinister fashion as contentment bubbled in your chest. The troll coughed wetly, only serving to further fuel your sadism.

Out through the nose…

“Why, then, are you being punished?”

…

Their fists trembled violently—whether from rage, hurt, or the strenuous effort to keep themself upright, you did not know. This time they didn't take very long to reply, although their answer sounded painfully drawn out through clenched teeth.

….

“Insubordination…Captain.” They practically spat the last part out.

Something is wrong.

You hummed briefly to yourself. Then, “Explain why you were being insubordinate.”

Sinking further and further, you enter a world of darkness, disoriented and without a sense of direction. Periodically, a faint gray light flashes from above, momentarily illuminating the depths of the sea. Your ears feel like they're going to burst from the pressure and you dryly swallow, trying to relieve it. Your bloodpusher begins to pound without warning as more oxygen is pumped through your veins. Panic sets in. More blood being pushed through your veins means more oxygen being drawn.

Unless there is no oxygen to be drawn.

The troll fought to turn their head, back twisting and folds of ripped sinew splitting open. Their body quivered. They could only glimpse at you with one bloodshot, furious eye before snapping back into their original position with a cry. You awaited their answer.

“The Sea of Miylas, Captain.” The quake in their slow response was like a serenade. They took a few more breaths.

“What about it?” you demanded.

Your throat clicks as you silently plead for air, your larynx spasming in a last effort to breathe.

The faint glimmers of hope above you fade away until you can no longer see them. Finally, there is nothing left, only the chilling water around you and a relentless, aching burn in your lungs as you sink further and further.

Their next words came like a whisper in the darkness. “Tread the waters carefully, Captain,” they finally replied, their voices almost inaudible, “because...”

“Because what?!” You stared into the black abyss, your voice carrying a menacing edge.

You anticipated their reply, but they remained hushed, despite how many times you bellowed at them to respond. Finally, you seethingly glanced at the bosun.

“Fifty more.”

You, Captain Aipalo Lovikk, The Contrôle, have lost control.

Tread the waters carefully, Captain, because…

Your muscles spasm uncontrollably.

Because…

Finally, a desperate gasp for air—your mouth opens wide in one involuntary movement, gulping down mouthfuls of murky, rotting water. You can't stop yourself from devouring the water, and with each sip, the fear of never being able to breathe again intensifies. Yet, you drink, and you drink, and you drink.

They’re hypoxic.

#mikwrites #yayayaayyaaaa new tag #i think #hiii i made a new troll theyre forever cursed to relive their death over and over at the bottom of the sea :)#i have more fax about them but i didnt know how to put them in here #aipalo lovikk #mikart

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our-dumbass-of-sorrows · 1 year

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oh my fucking god I only checked MCR tumblr today. oh my god. IN THE FACE OF EXTERMINATION, SAY 'FUCK YOU'

#fix fax fuck you forever i love this band #I'll probably write an actually thought out post about this later i just needed to scream for a minute #mcr #mcr auckland #fix fax fuck you

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inlovewithquotes · 1 year

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"Did you know it wasn't me, the other Max?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"When?"

"Right away."

"How?" I persisted. "We look identical. She even had identical scars and scratches. She was wearing my clothes. How could you tell us apart?"

He turned to me and grinned, making my world brighter. "She offered to cook breakfast."

-School's Out--Forever

#quotes #book quotes #literature #books & libraries #relationship quotes #james patterson #maximum ride #maximum ride series #school's out--forever #fang #faxness

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love-toxin · 2 years

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Hi there! I just wanted to drop by and say that first of all, the Eddie smut you recently posted has me SHOOK and QUAKING like I’m dead as we speak. I feel like I’m very specific when it comes to what I particularly enjoy in writing, especially if is smut but this was literally perfect in each and every aspect asdfghjkl. And secondly I mean this from the bottom of my heart it is easily one of the best things I have EVER had the privilege to read. Not only did it make my day but rather my whole year LMAOOO. I will be following and hope to see more wonderful Eddie content soon LOL. Thank you so very much!

-🍒

GYYAAAAAAAAAAA THANK U!!!!!!! WEH...WEH....SOBBING IN THE CLUB RN......I LOVE U 🍒 ANON!!!!! I OWE U MY LIFE!!!!!!!! ♡♡♡♡

#i will literally be thinking about this comment forever it will live in my head rent free #you anons are nicer than i could ever deserve and that is just straight fax #🍒 anon #anons

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baekuras · 6 months

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okay so work questionaire revealed that my coworkers are normal-human-delusional as in they THINK before i was a full worker no longer a trainee I dressed better, was more punctual and did my hair better

when really I still dress in the same style (basic T-Shirt with black pants/jeans), in the same rotation (every 2 to 3 days except on sweaty ones where I switch asap) and do my hair BETTER (conditioner, refreshes, actual styling foam/gel/creme if it's rly dry, leave in conditioner if it's really dry on Day 2 or 3, dry shampoo if i only got an oily spot but all else is good, flat iron for hair that either is too curly compared to the rest or not curly enough) when before that i used cheap watered down shampoo....and that was it (which made my hair dryer, more oily on day 2 to 3, and more prone to split ends which I have had 0 even with longer hair now <3)

so tl;dr: i still don't know what to do because i can't do what they want because I already am doing what they want or have improved what they ask for

#txts #anyhow i am p sure 1 coworker plans on leaving either us or work in general bc just vibes #he also has 2 young kids and his wife makes more so maybe he'll stay at home with the kids #or do smth parttime #or do smth completely different #1 other just got married and has been looking for a different field-her husband also makes enough to support the two of them and she #eventually wants kids and a dog so she'd want parttime for that which this job here doesn't allow #well it does but only for the one we already have only part time so yeah its difficult to find that #or just cut hours lol #another one i know also doesn't plan to stay forever not even in the same field #so...uh....yeah #at least like 3 to 4 ppl plan on fucking off sometime or another #and our office lady doesn't know how to do stuff the modern way aka order via e-mail when it was previously done by fax #time to run away and become a broadway star or smth i guess-idfk

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evilminji · 4 months

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(O.O ) The PONDERING is back!

You know Walker?

One of the Zone's literal ACAB? We are shown in one episode, that real world items? Against The Rules(tm).

Now, that COULD just be HIM being An Asshole? But let's be real! Unlikely. Rules/Laws get made for a REASON, generally. Usually because someone ruined it for everyone by being an asshole. Taking things too far.

You start OUT with the obvious Rules. Like "Don't Tear the Zone Apart." And "No Genocide of Literally Everything Forever You Fighty Little Assholes" but over time? You have too add stuff. Like "George is Forbidden to use the fax machine and he knows why" and "Ice Lairs and Fire Lairs have to be X distance apart AND YOU KNOW WHY"

And? IS there a central Governing body, regulating the Zone Rules? Nope! Pariah's in nappy time! BUT the manic, Iron fisted, Obsessions of THE LAW across time and space are sure willing to step up and help keep order. It... KINDA works!

And they MOSTLY have the same-ish Rules!

Like NO FUCKIN LIVING WORLD STUFF. Because? To GET such contraband? You'd have to break containment of the Zone, go THROUGH a random ass natural portal, that may or may NOT be safe, may or may NOT ever RECONNECT to the Zone, to literally terrorize the unsuspecting living souls (assuming you can FIND any), on the other side, JUST to drag that shitty candy bar back home.

Leaking ectoplasm the whole time. Poisoning the air, land, and sea. Making NEW ghosts where there might not have been any. Effectively making you their deadbeat parent. Which is premeditated child abandonment. And you DEFINITELY didn't PAY for those objects. Thief.

So, NO. No Living World Shit.

BUT!

Like city states! The Area of influence each Law Man(tm) has? While wide and sprawling? Does NOT perfectly mesh together like puzzle pieces! There ARE dead zones. Lawless, "unclaimed" areas.

Which? Are not so unclaimed.

For just as The Law has it's Obsession? So too, has the Underworld. Shaddy casinos and auctions. Black markets run like street fairs. What some Ghost Weed? They can hook you up, man. Vinnie over there was a Runner during Prohibition. He knows where ALL the classy joints are.

He can hook you up with some REAL nice Living World collectibles.

From All Over.

And? I bet it's that LAST bit? That REALLY sparks Danny's interest. He saved the guy from the GIW, who may or may not have busted him trying to... uuuuh... LIBERATE, some fine scotch for the bar back Zone side. Who's to say, really? Regardless, Vinnie? Pays his debts, you here.

Beside... the feral little gremlin kinda scares him. Good quality to have, no question, but maybe cool it with the biting? You don't know where they BEEN. You'll get a disease.

Now... all you gotta do, see, is... *mutters* *map scribbling* *bad idea enabling*

Which? Constantine! League Members of your choosing! Like a field trip from hell! Some how in the SINGLE shadiest den of Obvious Criminals you ever did see. The sky is green and they aren't in their dimension anymore. Circle up! NOW. Young Justice shoved to the INSIDE of the circle, adult heros on the outside.

Constantine? Knows where they are and wishs he didn't. He... he's not sure he CAN get them back. Going to try obviously. But no one panic. Don't show fear. DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING. Start walking.

Danny? Loading up the speeder~ Christmas gifts for daaaays~~☆ Everyone is Salty but respectful, cause anti-ghost tech meant they couldn't steal it. They did TRY. But... fair play, kid. Nice ride.

Only? Right before he gets in to leave? Some vibrating blur shoots over? Talking fast and followed by an older blur? Oh hey, humans. Like... ALIVE humans. Sup?

@the-witchhunter @hdgnj @nerdpoe @hypewinter @mutable-manifestation

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #justice league's very bad no good just awful road trip #danny does some Crime Shopping #at the Crime store #he got alternate dimension boy band stuff for Jazz #his mom's getting this cool lazer sword #dcxdp #minji's ponderings

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gentil-minou · 6 months

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can't we do smth for palestine like we did for ukraine like miraculers for palestine? i just think it'd help.

Monetary aid is useless in Gaza right now because Israel has the entire area under siege. We could raise a million dollars for them, and in fact many have, but it will rot in trucks trapped at the border because Israel refuses to let them in. They don't even have fuel or medical supplies or electricity or water or anything, not because there isn't anyone donating but because Israel refuses to let it in.

Their goal is to slowly starve and kill them all, or push them out of their homeland forever and steal more land for themselves

BUT YOU CAN HELP

WE NEED A CEASEFIRE

The majority of countries and citizens all throughout the world agree that we need an immediate and permanent ceasefire. (Not a humanitarian pause the US keeps trying to push like letting them have 5 days to breathe before Israel slaughters them all).

The majority agrees but a handful of countries, primarily the USA, Canada, and the UK have refused. And because the UN is a joke because the US gets whatever it wants even when it's the only one who wants it, a ceasefire is impossible.

So what can you do?

Easy

Contact your representatives and government

Flood their lines. Call them everyday. Fax them. Email them. Send them written letters. Join a protest. Disrupt the system

Make it clear you will not vote for them if they do not listen to you. Make it clear you want a ceasefire

Here are a few sites to get you started (these are US based but there are plenty of resources for other countries around)

This is just the link I have on hand there are COUNTLESS ones there are ones that will make the call for you, like this one that I used

Physical mail is better. Faxzero is a website that let's you send faxes for free. There are even pdfs and premade letters

Let's say you're not from one of these evil countries, what can you do?

There are protests around the world. Find them and join. Show the world Gaza is bleeding and Palestinians are screaming and that their screams are being heard. Show the world that you refuse to plug your ears and lie silent. Be their voice.

Educate yourself

Read books by Palestinians watch movies and documentaries. Follow their journalists, give them a voice especially now when the rich and powerful are trying so desperately to smother them.

Israel and the western powers want you to be ignorant.

DONT LET THEM

And whatever you do: don't stay silent. Don't treat this like a trend. Do not stop fighting

Even after a ceasefire, we need to keep going. There needs to be a complete dismantling of the Israel terrorist state. We have to keep fighting so Palestinians can live in Palestine the way they have for centuries. We need to show the corrupt governments in this world that we are not going to live under their tyranny

So be LOUD

#palestine #gaza #israel #free palestine #free gaza #Jerusalem #social justice #ceasefire now #gaza strip #palestinian #israeli apartheid #terrorism #jews of tumblr #jewsforpalestine #jumblr #asked and answered #miraculous ladybug

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antxlss · 6 months

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but, you’re my boss I

pairing: anakin skywalker x reader (modern au)

summary: you and your best friend, padmé have a movie night. she gets tired of you complaining about your lack of a love life and takes matters into her own hands.

warnings: conversation about a sexual interaction

words: 1.3k

a/n: first part is finally out! if you guys know me, you know i’m a slow writer. i hope you guys enjoy the first chapter of this series. once again i’d like to thank the anon that requested this, i hope to do it justice. fair warning this is starting off slow, not a lot of anakin interaction yet. i hope it was worth the wait. as always, feedback is greatly appreciated! ~ max :)

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Your life is boring.

Everyday was the same. Work, eat, sleep, and occasionally go out with your only friend, Padmé. You worked a 9-5 at a big engineering company. You're a receptionist for the customer service department of the company. This is just a job to keep you stable while you complete your master's degree in forensic psychology, then you'll be on your merry way making triple what you make right now.

You hated the job, taking calls, making copies, faxing documents, but you have to keep food on the table. Not to mention your boss is a prick.

It's not like you ever talked to him. The company is huge and he would never spend time to talk to a lowly customer service representative like you. But that's exactly why he's a prick.

Anakin Skywalker. The face of Skywalker Engineering. He's young, late 20's. He's filthy rich. Always has been. He inherited the business from his family and you can only assume he'll pass it on to his children. He's never known what it's like to struggle and you despise him for it, despite never talking to him at all.

You are wrapping up another dreadful day at work, at least it's Friday, when you get a call. You pick up your phone to see who it is, it's Padmé. Who else would it be? You click the answer button and tuck your phone between your ear and shoulder so you can continue to finish up clearing your desk.

"Hey Mé, what's up?" You greet.

"I'm coming over tonight and I'm staying the night and we are gonna binge Harry Potter because I haven't watched it in forever." Padmé rambled.

"Oh my gosh you read my mind." You groaned.

"What can I say? I'm good like that." You could practically hear Padmé's smirk through the phone. "I'll be over at 7."

"Sounds good, I'm about to leave work." You informed.

"Okay, drive safe, I love you!" Padmé finishes.

"I love you, see you later." You reply and hang up.

You quickly finish up, start to grab your things. You are so excited to see Padmé, it's nice to have things to do on the weekends.

You swing your purse over your shoulder and head to the elevator. You press the down button and step in and click the lobby floor. The doors begin to slide closed when all of a sudden they retract back as a hand slides in between them at the last moment.

In steps your boss, Anakin Skywalker.

He keeps his eyes forward and doesn't even glance at you. You shift uncomfortably, the silence becoming awkward, in your mind, very quickly.

"But you faxed those papers over, correct?" Anakin asks with a concerned tone.

What is he taking about? You were the only other person on the elevator, he had to be taking to you.

"Uh- I'm sorry?" You stuttered.

"One second Janet." Anakin taps his ear on the opposite side that you're standing on. "Did you say something?" He turned towards you.

Holy shit. He was using an earpiece.

"No! No, I'm sorry." You wanted to just disappear.

Anakin quickly faced forward again, unfazed, and continued his conversation. As soon as the elevator doors opened you jetted out and practically ran to your car trying your best to forget about that moment. Knowing you, it would haunt your late night thoughts for the rest of your life.

It was now 6:30 and you were fixing up your living room all cozy for when Padmé gets here. You get blankets and throw them on the couch and set out the DVD's. You begin to make popcorn when you hear a key turning in the door signaling that Padmé had made it.

You gave her a key to your apartment as soon as you got it. You and Padmé have been friends since your freshman year of college and quickly grew close. Now you consider her more of a sister than a friend.

"Y/N/N!" Padmé squealed and ran over to you in the kitchen. She jumps on you giving you a big hug.

"Mé! I've missed you so, so much." You match her energy. You squeeze her back and finally pull away.

"I've missed you too! So much has happened bitch, you don't even know." She walks over to the cabinet that you keep your wine in.

"Spill." You state simply.

You grab the popcorn from the microwave and start to pour it in the bowl.

"Okay so you know how I've been seeing that guy Mark, right?" She asks while pouring 2 glasses of wine.

You nod in confirmation and grab the glass of wine from Padmé.

"Well last night he stayed over..."

"No way, bitch! Did you fuck him?" You ask excitedly.

"Yes..." She starts.

"You whore! I bet his dick is so big, how was it..."

Padmé cuts you off. "It was so bad. Like I was ready to die."

"Really? But he's so hot. It's always the hot ones." You roll your eyes. "I want all the hard, wet, nasty details."

She gags. "One, that's fucking disgusting. Two, it actually was the worst sex I've ever had. So we get done with dinner right? And I thought he would invite me to his place but he literally asks me to come to mine. That should've been the first red flag, but you know, he's hot so I ignored it."

You snort and nod your head then take a sip of your wine.

Padmé continues. "So we get to my place and I can't even get in the door before his hands are on me. Not in a hot way by the way. So I push him off me and I lead him to the bedroom so we can properly fuck. Well we lay down and we are making out. He literally started dry humping like a fucking dog. Again, not in the hot way."

"What a turn off." You cringe.

"Tell me about it bitch. So I rush undressing him because I actually thought he was gonna cum just by humping me. Then we are both fully undressed."

"How big?" You interrupt.

"Average, nothing special." She replies. "Anyway, he puts it in and in five seconds he's having an orgasm."

"That's a major ick" You grimace.

"For real. The he had the nerve to ask me if I got off."

"Mé, I hope you didn't let him stay after that." You laugh.

"I didn't even have to kick him out, he just got dressed and left." She explained.

"What a dickhead."

"It's not over though." She grins. "I just matched with his brother on tinder and he is a thousand times hotter."

"That's a such a cunty move, I respect it." You elbow her and she laughs in response.

After a few seconds of comfortable silence you decide to break it.

"Your life is so exciting. I swear I just live vicariously through you."

"That's depressing. Come on, what happened to the Tinder account we sat up?" Padmé asks.

"Every guy I matched with was a fucking creep." You groan. "I'm just about to become celibate or a lesbian or something."

"Okay, I'm tired of hearing it." She shuts you down. "I'm setting you up on a blind date."

You laugh. "Absolutely not."

"Y/N, you just said it. Your life is boring, you can't find any guys, you're going to become celibate. You're desperate. Meaning you are in no position to turn down this offer."

"Okay, fine." You sigh.

"I'll set it up and text you the details later. I think I have the perfect guy in mind." She smirks.

"Whatever, let's just watch Harry Potter now." You get up and grab the popcorn and make your way to the couch. You and Padmé binge the movies all weekend long.

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