A Most Violent Year

PLEASE THIS IS SO FUCKING FUNNY

MKsystem and Hyperfixations

We're all aware of Steven's fixation on Ancient Egypt, but what about the other two? (Can't have just one autistic alter in a system).

Marc's: Astronomy. He'd have some books stacked on Steven's desk. Random space/NASA magnets would litter the fridge, and maybe there'd even be a small telescope set up at their window.

Jake's: Cars. Definitely a ton of Hot Wheels cars still in their packets carefully placed on shelves... and he'd probably have even more if Marc and Steven gave him the chance. Random pictures of cars he'd seen on the street in their phone gallery.

Once they're all aware of each other, they'd start making the apartment more their's, instead of just Steven's.

2015-2025: A Decade of Charlie Cox as Daredevil ✨

What a fine wine 😍🍷

🌿 My Name is Rola, and This is My Story 🌿

I never thought I would be writing this. I never thought I would be begging for help just to keep my children warm, just to feed them one more meal. But here I am, reaching out to you, because I have no other choice.

My name is Rola. I am a mother of two beautiful children, and before October 7th, we had a life filled with love and laughter. We had a home. My children had their own room, filled with their toys and drawings. We would sit together on our balcony, drinking coffee in the early morning light. We had dreams, just like any other family.

But in an instant, it was all gone.

A missile struck. The earth shook beneath us. The air filled with dust and fire. My husband and son ran, stumbling over each other in terror. I stood frozen, the ringing in my ears drowning out my own screams. Our home was shattered—windows blown out, doors ripped from their hinges. And when I looked outside, our neighbor’s house, a place that once echoed with children's laughter, was nothing but rubble and ash.

That was just the beginning.

The bombs never stopped. Every night, I held my children close as the sky rained fire. The sound of explosions mixed with the cries of mothers searching for their babies in the darkness. I covered my children, whispering words of comfort, but how do you comfort a child who is terrified of dying in their sleep?

We had to leave. We walked away from everything—our home, our memories, the warmth of our life before. My children left behind their favorite toys, their books, their safe space. Now, we have nothing.

No home.

No food.

No clean water.

No way out.

I went to buy sugar the other day. It cost $20 for just a kilo. Food is disappearing, and the little that remains is impossible to afford. Every day, I fight to find just enough to keep my children alive.

I am exhausted. I am scared. I need your help.

I never imagined I would have to beg for my family’s survival. But today, I am.

Please, if you are reading this, help us. Help me save my children. Help us find shelter, food, a way to rebuild even a small piece of the life we lost. If we ever have the chance to leave, we need support. If we are forced to stay, we need a home again.

Every donation matters. Every share helps. Every voice that speaks for us keeps hope alive.

💚 Please donate if you can. Share our story. Help us survive. 💚

gofundme.com

Donate to From Despair to Hope: Help us to rebuild our life., organized by Fatima Rajwani

Hi I am Fatima and live in London UK. I have known Rola now for appr… Fatima Rajwani needs your support for From Despair to Hope: Help us to

A mouth-watering fuck-ton of hand angle references.

By Shadowcross on DA.

I think about this all the time

too bad the Jedi couldn’t see the warning sign :/

quick n simple based and using images from this warning signs post

them on the ride back from exploding matt's apartment or whatever

Demonstrating the rope dart (繩標; sheng2biao1)

[eng by me]

I’ve already talked about the Marc Drooling Scene but. I just. I go insane over the way Marc loses his bodily functions here. He’s so drugged up he has to put in so much effort just to get up from the chair — only to hit the ground, hard. Drooling. Writhing on the floor. Stumbling all over himself. Pupils dilated and his eyes rolling back each time he has to get up. Legs like jelly. Forcing his body to move and it’s so hard, fuck, his whole body is weighed down from the sedation. Marc’s whimpers. The soft grunts. His feet getting all crossed as he tries to put distance between himself and Dr. Harrow. The “ungh..!” each time he falls. Single-minded in his goal to break out even though he can barely think through the drugged daze. How he attempts to put command into the first “no, you stay away from me” as he crawls away from Harrow. Then — the panic rising and actual desperation in his voice as he cries out “stay away from me!!” when Harrow continues trying to placate Marc, his tone intentionally gentle. Think about how terrifying this is for Marc to experience. To lose control of his body like this. To be at Harrow’s mercy. To be bodily and mentally falling apart like this with drugs in his system. So angry, so upset. A caged animal.