240125 | Official_artms Tiktok Post 🏹

MMAO what

DON'T GO ON HAMAS.//////COM

I recently saw tweets about this website called Hamas .com.

It is a site made by Israel to steal your information.

Its just another way that Israel will harm Palestinians by making a fake website to confuse advocates

PLEASE GO TO ARAB.ORG INSTEAD FOR DAILY CLICKS

This is not including all the children who are lifeless underneath the rubble and not including the ones that were obliterated to the point where they cannot be identified. Free Palestine

Video: X: FisunGuner

Song @iamkarimmm

stop. stop. it is not just the women and children of gaza. it is not just the mothers. it is also the men. the fathers, the uncles, the vendor, the neighbor, the barber. stop dehumanising them. they are also being killed. they are also being bombed. they are also losing loved ones. palestinians are also losing their fathers and brothers. stop it. stop erasing the pain and suffering of palestinian men. they deserve our love, care and voice just as much as the women and children do.

Mr. Yano's Ordinary Days (矢野くんの普通の日々) // Tamura Yui

Happy Picture Diary

By Akiko

Compulsory heterosexuality is a hell of a drug

“friend” ✧ shimizu kyoko x fem!reader ✧ pt 1(?)

summary: kyoko and you had been friends for a good while now, but she doesn’t seem to have time for you anymore, which leaves you rather confused. and hurt.

tw: angst. y/n being very jealous and kinda bratty. one sided beef with yachi? nothing crazy but still.

hq!! navigation.

kyoko was such a good friend to you. always been, since you’ve met her. you two clicked from the start, when you were paired up for a science project during your junior year.

she was everything one could yearn for, an intelligent, determined, yet kind, fragile, and gentle mannered person. her intentions were always good, her words always wise, never failing to convince, comfort or put someone back in place with elegance and charm.

her reputation preceded her around the school. everyone knew her, from the newest students to the seniors.

you lost count of all the times you’d get stuck in a corner, waiting for her to finish her chit-chat with one of her hundredths acquaintances. it happened on the daily, since day one.

it wasn’t something bad. you knew it. you weren’t envious of her popularity, never was. she was the sun, you were the moon. whilst everyone knew her name, they had no idea who you were, although being at her costant side.

“shimizu’s friend.” that’s how they called you.

and you didn’t mind.

not until you became “one” of shimizu’s friends.

this year was gonna be your last one in that high school you grew fond of. you managed to make your little friendgroup in there, with the volleyball team you and kyoko were the managers of, along another girl named hitoka yachi, who was another friend of you and the black haired girl. mostly hers.

only, this year, something changed.

as always, she made sure to give a hand where needed. and it happened to be needed to recruit new members of certain clubs, which required her to be constantly out of reach, for some unknown to you reason.

the school year began on late august and you could count on the fingers of one of your hands the times you were able to talk for more than five minutes alone with her.

not to talk about your outside school evenings. during those goddamn five months that had passed, not even a free weekend of hers was dedicated to you.

instead, you’d often catch her around, both on and off school, with other people– sometimes familiar faces, others not.

your gut tightens as you recollect one of those times, where you caught her and yachi at the cafeteria, alone, during lunch break.

they didn’t notice you standing still, a couple tables away from them. but you did.

and it hurt you way more than you were willing to admit.

“honey, how are you?” speaks your mother, as her head pops up from behind the door of your bedroom.

licking your dry lips, your blocked nose makes a sound, to give her an idea. “as bad as fifteen minutes ago.” your nasally voice talks, going back to breathe through your mouth.

“aw, love.” her face softens at the view of your body laying on the bed, a pile of tissues next to you. “i’ll go buy something for you at the nearby drugstore, okay?”

“please.” you beg, going to sit down.

your mom gives you a nod, smiling. “be right back. there’s some honey in the shelf if you wanna get a camomile or a warm drink while i’m gone.” she adds, before closing your door and leaving you be.

as her footsteps vanish in the distance, your mind goes back to her frame. you fall back on the soft pillows, grabbing your phone from your drawer next your bed, laying on your side. maybe she posted something on her socials, or...

you spend a good moment watching the screen, without really doing anything. why did you turn it on for? to torture yourself, seeing her hang out with other people?

you shake your head, putting it back where it was, deciding it really wasn’t the case to dig yourself further into the depression the whole situation was already giving you.

after a couple minutes, you sigh, frustrated at your poor health. you couldn’t even sleep.

you get up from your bed, crumpled pajama and messy bed hair. “she must been having lunch now” you think to yourself, watching the clock in the hallway that readed 12 PM.

“with one of those chicks from the music, art, or whatever club. or maybe with those guys from the basketball club. or maybe with someone else. alone.”

you couldn’t help it. it was so much mightier than you, as mightier as foolish and babysh and everything you knew she didn’t like or approve.

you’ve been her friend for years. why did she seem to prefer everyone’s company over yours so suddenly? what did you do?

what the fuck did you do?

descending the stairs, you go into the kitchen, opening the fridge in hope to find something appealing to fill your empty stomach with.

but you find the void. a couple eggs and an orange juice is all that’s left. another sigh leaves your mouth when you close it, a sneeze hurting your lungs as the cold air of the appliance hits the inside of your nose.

you were about to go back to your room, resigned, when you hear the door bell ring.

it couldn’t be your mom. it was way too early.

curious, you go to peek through the peephole to check who it could’ve been.

“oh, yachi,” you mumble to yourself, opening the door of a couple inches just to show the side of yourself that wasn’t too battered.

“y/n?” you hear her ask, tilting her head to take a better look at you. you cover your mouth with your hand, coughing.

“hi.” your voice leaves no doubts to your conditions, “can i help you...?” you question, bittersweet. you haven’t really talked to her after what you saw at the school cafeteria.

and she didn’t either, to be honest.

“kyoko sent me to give you these,” she takes several notebooks out of her bag, “we noticed you haven’t come to school during the past week and didn’t want you to get behind.” her lips curve into a shy smile.

hearing those words and seeing the innocence on her face, your heart tightens inside your chest.

how could you be mad at someone so sweet?

yet, you had that sour voice in your head, asking you why wasn’t kyoko the one giving you those herself. you two were closer than you and hitoka, she knew it.

“thank you, yachi.” you return her smile, opening the door further to grasp the notebooks she was handing you.

“no problem.” her smile widened slightly when she saw you reciprocating, “how are you? you look...” she scratches the back her neck, suddenly seeming bashful.

“i know i look terrible.” you laugh. “let’s say i had better days.”

“you don’t look terrible at all!” she squeaks, “i didn’t mean it like that.” her tones lowers again. “–sorry to hear that. i could go take you something if you need, i’m supposed to meet up with kyoko at the square later.” she confesses, concern in her syrupy eyes.

unaware it only made your intestines drop.

“oh.” you fake a smile. but it’s so obvious she understands immediately your drastic change.

“what?” she asks.

“nothing! sorry, my headache is killing me.” the first thing you could think of. your hand goes to massage your temple to make it more believable, “i think i better go lay down now. thanks for dropping by. see you.” you give her one last hasty smile, before slamming the door to her face, a bit too vigorously.

a sharp, stinging, painful urge to cry choked your throat, leaving you unmoving in front of the door you just closed. the strength in your muscles plunge abruptly, making you drop the notebooks on the floor next your feet, your face shifting every second that went by, more and more into a grimace as the tears started forming in your glassy eyes, chest rising and lowering at unsteady pace.

a drop. then the storm.

you run upstairs, throwing your body onto the bed, smashing your face onto your pillows and cry, cry the life out of your eyes, cry all the built up frustration you’ve pent up all these months, all these weeks you’ve spent watching your dearest friend pick everyone over you and today, today was the last fucking straw.

why didn’t she like you anymore?

it looped in your head like a broken record, 10 times in a row, as if doing so was gonna magically make an answer appear in front of you. like it was gonna get your friend back.

you missed her so much. you wanted her back to yourself.

it went on and on. the tears couldn’t stop, framing your face and wetting your hair, that was now glued to your sticky cheeks.

until you heard the door of the entrance open and close.

“y/n, i’m back!” your mom shouts from the first floor.

quickly, you jump upright, rubbing your eyes with the fabric of your sweater, swallowing your soreful sobs. your mother was the last person you wanted to see you weeb.

“i’ve bought you some hot chocolate, want me to make it for ya?” she adds, still far away from your room. you jerk your face up, clearing your throat. “no, not now! thanks.” you respond, shouting back.

your mother didn’t insist. she wasn’t the type, luckily.

and eventually, you managed to calm down, noticing she wasn’t entering your personal space, going for a shower to shake off the mental breakdown you just had.

a week passed by. the meds your mom gave you worked, you were finally back to normal, and ready, on that fine monday, to get back to school.

during the week, you made good use of the notebooks kyoko “gave” you, leaving you, though, in the uncomfortable situation of having to hand them back.

which meant having to search her up throughout the whole school, to probably find her with someone. useless to say how much the idea made the blood boil underneath your skin.

after your talk with hitoka, you really couldn’t be bothered to try anymore. if she wished to no longer be your friend, which very much seemed to be the case, then you couldn’t do anything about it.

frankly, you were fed up. you asked her countless times to spend some time with you, only to be met by a “can’t, busy.” that, sometimes, felt like an excuse even.

you loved her. so much. however, just because you did, didn’t mean you were gonna chase her and beg her to stay in your life.

heavens, no.

that’s why an idea crossed your mind, the second you’d realized you didn’t wanna see her anymore.

you didn’t have to hand them back directly to her. you could use yachi as a go-between, just like she did.

although the idea of seeing yachi didn’t make you the happiest either, for obvious – yet very childish and stupid – motives.

you knew she had done nothing wrong, you were deeply and annoyingly aware of how dumb you were acting, of how jealousy was blinding you. nevertheless, caring about it was beginning to lack.

“y/n! you’re back!” a familiar voice made you snap towards the direction it came from, seeing hitoka run towards you into the big school yard.

“speaking of the devil” you scoff ironically under your breath, although your annoyance trounces your amusement.

“hey.” your strained smile hurts your cheeks.

“glad to see you’ve gotten better.” meanwhile hers look as natural as can be.

“thank you, i do.” you hold the notebooks tight against your chest, when the thought crosses your mind again. “hey, uh,” you begin.

“thank you for these. helped me a lot. here,” you lend her the objects. as you do, hitoka’s smile turn sheepish.

“it’s no problem, but... they’re not mine, remember? they’re kyoko’s. give them back to her.” she says, bursting your bubble so cutely you almost wanna go back home and call it a day.

“hah,” you shriek, “but, you see...” struggling to put up a bullshit. “i can’t really do that, i’ve actually got something really important to do today and i don’t think i’ll have the time to look for her. if you could...”

“oh! whatcha gotta do? i can help!” she squeals, making you hate her for a moment for being so goddamn nice all the time.

“something rather personal. can’t really talk about it. actually, don’t wanna.” your façade starts cracking, pretending to be polite in that situation was exhausting you. “just– give these back to her for me, okay? please.” you sigh, your hands going into your pockets, eyes drifting away from hers.

“oh, uh, okay.” her smile drops, noticing your change. “see you around, then?” she tilts her head, her lips fatiguing to form one last small smile.

punching your intestine with guilt, like all the times she’d give you that puppy look.

you gulp, your brows softening into a displeased expression.

“...yes.” you speak lowly, taking a step back, before watching her turn around with a wave and walk off into the building. you mentally face palm yourself. “really, y/n?” scolding yourself, you entered the place as well, after having made sure hitoka was out of sight.

the clock reminded you that your class was attending you, and you were already late for it. a loud sigh, and you’re going up the stairs to the 3rd floor, where your classroom was.

you had no shared classes with shimizu that day, although you happened to see her multiple times in the hallways, to your bad luck.

you had no idea if she waved at you, or simply mouthed a “hi” as you began to veer each time you happened to glimpse her.

and those few times you’d make eye contact, you’d snap your head away in the opposite direction. just like the mature girl you were.

“well, it’s not like she cares anyway” your head would tell you— which made it bearable. at least, that’s what you tried to convince yourself of.

of course it was far from true.

making her the villain was the easy option, it was the only way to feel somewhat less shitty about it all.

lunch break signed the last morning class, making students fly out of the classroom unnecessarily loudly, leaving you by yourself, your head buried between your hands.

honestly that day couldn’t get any fucking worse.

firstly, you had math. the teacher returned your corrected tests, finding out that you got the worst score of the entire class. the old man wasn’t even a bad one, which made it worse. you really fucked up an easy test, hurting your self-steam tremendously.

secondly, chemistry. you got paired up with someone you’ve never shared a word to to a practical lesson, only to end up causing a mess that got the both of you, after he tried to put the blame on you, in a one hour detention post-classes.

to say you were pissed was an euphemism.

you went to rest your forehead on the desk’s cold surface, your hands at the back of your head. at least, no one was around. you could finally be gloomy and let your facial expression go into your natural resting face, that today looked anything but friendly.

“y/n?” an oddly familiar voice speaks from several desks afar, making you curse under your breath for always being proven wrong the second you’d think something.

your head slowly raises up, met by a pair of blue eyes peering at you worrily from next the entrance.

“kyoko?” for a moment, your gaze lightens up.

then you remembered, and the wall raised back up.

clearing your throat, you look away, going silent.

“are... you okay?” you sense her stepping into the classroom. “i was walking by and saw you here all alone.”

a coincidence. what else could it be? she certainly wasn’t gonna look purposely for you.

“mhm.” giving her a brief nod, you begin to pack your bag under her confused eyes.

shimizu takes a moment to study you, eyeing carefully your rather expressive body language. “are you sure?” she tilts her head.

“mmhm.” emphasizes your annoyed self, not caring whether she might get offended or think whatever of you.

“i’ve heard the teacher tell you off, an hour ago...” she approaches you even more, chuckling nervously. “what happen—” but you cut her off.

“gotta go.” hastily, you toss your bag over your shoulder, turning around to head towards the exit,

“wait y/n—” her now alarmed voice calls,

“bye mizu.” but you don’t care.

her eyes widen, silently watching you leave the classroom.

what the hell did just happen.

a knot tightens in your throat as your mind tries to process the conversation, if so could be called, that you just had.

it’s been weeks since you last talked with her, since she voluntarily came up to you, coincidence or not– and you just dismissed her like she wasn’t the main reason you were struggling to concentrate on your classes, like you weren’t dying to spend time with her. like you didn’t miss her like air.

she was your best friend. your only, real, friend. the only person you were genuinely comfortable with, that knew you and valued your presence.

what were you doing.

there, in the middle of the hallway, your feet stop your fast walk. regret kicks your legs, making them shake, your hands closing into fists. your eyes are turning glassy once more, realization hitting you like a slap.

you didn’t want to lose her, that was the last thing you wished.

you turn around, ready to go back to her and have the discussion that needed to be spoken between you two since too much time now, only to find out you were never alone.

shimizu was right there, just a couple feet away from you.

you let out a frightened cry, taking a step back.

you hadn’t heard her following you. moreover, you certainly wasn’t expecting her to.

“sorry,” she starts, lifting her hands defensively. “i didn’t mean to scare you.”

you manage to blink the tears that had formed in the corners of your eyes away. your gaze wanders over her face warily, scared almost, as if you didn’t recognize her, although having known that person for years.

she does the same, but her gaze isn’t as untrusting and fearful. contrary, it was hurt. there was affection in it, eyeing you like you were some wounded cat in a corner.

which wasn’t too far from the truth.

“can we talk?” she asks. you notice her foot moving closer, but she withdraws it when you make yours get backward as a consequence.

you want to, so badly.

but the anger is so much louder than rationality.

✧ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀next (??) ✧

Thinking about pretty boys whose mind turns to mush so quickly during sex. They just feel so good to the point that the immense pleasure heads straight to his head, melting his mind and body and making his eyes roll back. They can't even think properly and do whenever you ask him hows he feeling, he can't only let out a choked moan or a pleasure filled whimper as your thumb runs over the tip of his leaky dick :(

It's okay that he doesn't respond properly though cause he just looks so pretty laying on his back with his face flushed and scrunched up cutely as you use him till he's crying

Good morning. This might be my last message from the city of Rafah. The occupation [Israel] is carrying out crazy fire. Violent belts. As you’re hearing, there are helicopters. Planes and gunfire from the vehicles. There’s a complete invasion of the city.

We don’t know what is going on in Rafah. The place that the occupation [Israel] claimed to be safe. This is happening all of a sudden; the people didn’t go out. They didn’t do anything. More than thirty targets were hit in just minutes. People were asleep. We woke up to the bombing, to the shooting from the helicopters. It was horrifying. Unacceptable. This might be my last message. Please relay it to the world.

— Hazem, journalist residing in Rafah; 02.11.2024

Rafah was Palestinians’ very last safe zone. There is quite literally nowhere else left to go. And now it’s being bombed with airstrike after airstrike.

pretty boy hair