Anyone Who Reblogs This Post Will Have Their User Written On A Poster Saying "We Stand With Palestine"

every politician who claims israel has a right to 'defend itself', every celebrity who reposts israel-sympathetic statements, every hand-wringing liberal who refuses to take a stance because 'it's just too complex', every zionist who fearmongers about this turning into a second holocaust, every western journalist who insists on asking their palestinian guests "but do you condemn hamas?" — in fact any person who wants to comment on the situation at all should be forced to read this article in full before they're allowed to voice their opinion.

at the end of the article, there is a 338-page list of the names of the palestinians who have been killed by israeli forces from october 7th-25th. the first six pages are for the age '0'.

Let’s go girlies >:)

Countdown (1/3)

Interchange - Call of Duty BodySwap/UniverseSwap!AU (SFW)

(A mission goes awry and you end up in a place quite dissimilar from your own.)

“Johnny no!”

You threw your entire weight against him, throwing him off balance. With a gasp he fell off the metal platform backwards, his gun clattering loudly to the ground. You fell with him, hitting your knees against the grating, still atop the platform. You tried to crawl off the edge but it was too late.

A bright, swirling heat began to emanate from the sensors above you. They bathed both you and Johnny in an alien light. You winced, almost completely unable to see the man in front of you. He tried to stand but he wasn’t quick enough to even get up on his knees. Somewhere in the room Price was screaming your name.

Something told you that whatever was about to happen was going to hurt.

You called down to Johnny over the few feet between you. You got one last good look at his bright, now scared, eyes.

“I’m so sorry.”

The white light that had enveloped you faded away enough for you to see.

You blinked and blinked at the white spots still dancing in your eyes. You were still on the metal platform, nearly hanging off the edge. You could breathe again and so you greedily panted in the warm air. A trickle of sweat dripped down your brow and you blinked it out of your eyes.

“Ay, love!” Johnny yelled, now on his feet. “C’mere, I go’ ye.”

Your ears were still ringing from the loud hum of whatever energy had been released. Johnny sounded like he was talking through a filter. You tried to look down at his face but everything was still hazy. You reached an arm out to him and he took it. Uncharacteristically, he jerked your entire body forward, causing you to fall off the platform.

Something was off.

Instead of falling to floor, you managed to easily right yourself midair and land on your feet. You felt lighter, more agile, than before. It felt like maybe you’d lost fifty pounds except, well. You patted your hip curiously. You most certainly hadn’t lost any weight.

“Y’ broken?” Johnny asked again, his voice rougher than before. He patted the same section of your hip and you winced from his sudden touch. Even through the white haze still filling your vision you could still see his eyes widen in pure concern.

“Wh-Johnny!” You squealed. He hoisted you up in his arms and began to run at full speed for the exit.

Men were yelling and screaming at each other while attaching explosive charges to the metal equipment in the room. You blinked, and the texture of everything in the makeshift lab seemed far too grimy. The place had been spotless a second before the machine had gone off.

“J-Johnny…” You mumbled, feeling your stomach began to twist in knots.

Something was wrong. Something you couldn’t put a finger on.

“We’re almost out, love.” He panted, still running, both of your kits clinking with each footfall. “I go’ ye. I go’ ye.”

He kicked open a door with decidedly too much ease. Judging by how many men were swarming around tactical equipment and hurriedly loading up convoys you realized this had to have been the port of operations you’d come in from.

Except…everything was completely wrong.

The tactical gear the men wore were old, several iterations old in fact. The last time you saw that shade of camo had been on your father in one of your earliest memories. Most of the tech they were packing up was also older, and completely obsolete by your standards. Hell, one of the technical pads a man was holding, you’d played with as a kid. Even the convoy trucks were dated and beat all to hell.

You began to hyperventilate. This was wrong. You weren’t supposed to be here. Where were you? It was like before but not.

“‘Ey, easy now.” Johnny breathed, placing you down next to a truck. You leaned back against it for support. You looked down at your shoes.

Nothing you wore was as it had been before. You too were decked out in old fashioned fatigues with shit versions of your nice toys stashed into the pockets of your kit. Out of desperation, you tried reaching for your dad’s pocket knife.

“Woah! Easy there, love!” Johnny huffed. He grabbed your hand out of your pocket and pushed you up onto the hood of the truck. The way he touched you felt far too intimate for your liking. You tried to fight him but he was far too strong. “Hit yer head too? Y’ feelin’ alright? Y’ know m’ no’ gonna hurt ye, love.”

The white haze was thankfully beginning to clear up.

Despite your clearing vision, everything still looked wrong. The room was darker, dingier, and all around not the way it had been before. You tried to look around Johnny to see more but he grabbed your face in one of his hands. He forced you to look up at him.

“Look a’ me.” He demanded.

You did, and you gasped.

He was Johnny, it was no doubt about it. The same breadth of his shoulders, the same freckles and lashes and jawline. But he was different. Instead of the usual, almost baby face of your colleague, this man was chiseled with more pronounced cheekbones and slightly fuller lips. An unfamiliar scar ran down the left side of his face. He still had the same haircut and facial hair, although it was better maintained, slicked down and trimmed closer to military standards. The scent of him was still peppery and warm.

This Johnny used his gloved hand to pull down your bottom eyelids to get a good look at your eyes. He must’ve seen something that worried him.

“Oh no. No no no.” He tutted, his same blue eyes slanting in that way he did when he got nervous. The only difference were the heavy bags circling his lower lashes and turning into small, very uncharacteristic wrinkles.

“Garrick!” This Johnny screamed. “Medical now!”

“Johnn-”

“Yer gonna b’ fine, love. I promise.” He huffed.

With that, he took a quick glance around. Deciding the coast was clear he leant down to peck a soft kiss to your lips. He did it so quickly you almost didn’t even recognize the gesture. He’d made sure his body covered yours so that no one saw him do it either.

“Johnny what the fuck!” You squeaked, feeling complete caught off guard.

While you’d fucked around with him before, it’d always been under the watchful supervision of your lieutenant. After all, you were Ghost's, first and foremost. It was nothing official, but Johnny new better than to cross your superior by going behind his back and kissing you.

You tried to push him away but he had no give. An intense emotion of hurt washed across his face but it was quickly replaced with complete concern.

“GARRICK!”

“Aye, sir!”

You spotted a familiar figure trot over. He was dressed from head to toe in tactical gear, but you could recognize that blue hat anywhere. You began to sob and reach for him. Thank God, it was Gaz. He could probably tell you everything that was going on.

“Gaz!” You cried out, feeling delirious. “What’s going on, mate? Where am I?”

The man stopped dead in his tracks. He pulled off his goggles to get a better look at you. Come to think of it, you’d never seen him wear those before. You blinked away the haze. He was wearing a balaclava and he wasn’t wearing kohl. The skin surrounding his eyes, not covered by fabric, was a tan shade of pink.

That wasn’t Gaz.

You screamed bloody murder.

Before Johnny could grab you, you threw your entire weight backwards. Because of your newfound agility you had no issue in falling over the hood of the truck and landing on your feet. You were still screaming, even as you began to take off in a sprint. You chose a direction and ran.

No. No. No.

This was wrong. Everything was off.

These men you knew were imposters. It was them but it wasn’t them. This was some kind of cruel mindfuck.

You were sobbing and screaming and all noise was suddenly cut out at the source. You were jerked back so roughly the air was knocked out of your lungs. You tried to gasp for air, but a broad arm had wrapped itself around your throat. You choked, your legs began to buckle. Black spots began to form in your vision.

“M’ sorry, love.” This Johnny huffed, his voice breaking with emotion. He continued to choke you out until you faded into complete unconsciousness.

“M’ so sorry.”

I’ve been reposting some of my stuff from Twitter hehe

[ms paint] hey, what's the meaning of life?

If requests are still open how does a sorta feral, beat all to hell Jazz sound? Like, he's on mission and for the life of him he's *going* to finish it and he's *going* to make it out alive. He'll clutch his splitting spark casing in one hand and shoot with the other because *he's going to make it out alive today, the afterspark be damned*.

That is a very specific mood you’re describing and it sounds pretty dam cool!

Message of the year:

“How do you spot an idiot? Look for the person who is cruel. The kindest person in the room is often the smartest.” — Gov Pritzker

if Mori had a SUPER EPIC LOADBEARER ARMORYeah

reblogs > likes

Rip gaurdsman. I hate this but idc enough to fix it