mistrex-silly

[mistrex-silly]

online communities are so strange because people slip away so easily. you can be on here for years, folding people you've never met into the fabric of your daily life, and then they disappear, leaving only ghost posts scattered across tumblr behind. or their blog stays dormant, for weeks, months, years, until you're only still following them because you remember that they love sunflowers or they were kind to you when they didn't have to be or the last thing they posted was sad and raw and you still worry about them sometimes.

and sometimes they come back when you least expect it, years later, even, and there's this sudden rush of relief like there you are, there you are, even though you barely knew each other.

there's a strange kind of love to it. i don't know you and i want to hold your hand across miles and time zones and oceans. i can still see the imprint of you in this community you left. you don't think anyone will notice or care when you're gone, but we notice and we care and we wish you well.

i hope you're all okay out there. i hope the sun is shining on your face and you are breathing deeply. i miss you.

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now feels like a good time to reiterate that Iranians have been martyred by america + israel already, both empires that possess nuclear weapons, and that Iran does not have nuclear weapons. so now is not the time to joke about america getting nuked-- any retaliation on Iran's part is justified and the only way we escape this situation, but Iran is not going to nuke us, because the entire premise that Iran has nukes is how america justified bombing them and also the exact same rhetoric we used against Iraq and how we killed my countrysmen when there was again no evidence of nuclear warfare. New York City is not going to get fucking nuked. go listen to a podcast or something

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Image Description.

Facebook post from Matt Norris.

Post reads like a conversation between 2 people:

Prison labor is a problem we need to address soon.

Convicts in prison should have to work like the rest of us.

You mean like slavery?

No, we’re giving them 3 meals and a bed, at our expense, while they just sit around and watch TV. They should have to work!

Right. Like slavery.

It’s not like slavery!

Can they leave?

No.

Can they refuse work?

No.

So how exactly isn’t this slavery?

We DO pay them!

Do we pay in accordance with labor laws?

No. We pay them between 33 cents and $1.41/hour with a maximum daily wage below $5, then take up to half of that as room&board fees and victim compensation.

Right. So like slavery.

BUT.

No.

Image then links to this url.

Below URL image reads “fun bonus fact: enough of our labor market currently relies on labor at these depressed rates, that it has a substantial downward pressure on both wages and job availability in low-skilled sectors. Immigrants aren’t taking your jobs. Slavery is.

End description.

I’d also like to add it’s not just private prisons. It’s also private detention centers where ICE keeps the immigrants.

-fae

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legitimately my first feminist awakening as a ten year old child was realizing that girls were expected to respect “boy stuff” but boys were never expected to respect “girl stuff”

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🌿 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. 💚

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Hello,

I hope you’re all doing well. 🌿

I need your help to share my family's story and raise awareness about our struggle. Every voice counts, and your support means the world. 🙏

💬 Please reblog my pinned post or, if you're able, consider donating just $5—it could be life-changing for those facing unimaginable hardship.

Your kindness and solidarity make a real difference. Thank you from the bottom of my heart! 🤍✨

@aboodfmly

^^

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(crawls on all fours with blood drenched on me) I have to do arts and crafts

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it was not on wheat...

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sorry boss can't come in today i was on my way to work and then a gentle spring breeze kissed my cheek and reminded me it is a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in this broken world

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i think there’s actually nothing better than being randomly told “I love you” after doing something characteristically stupid. Like what do you mean I’m a lovable person and I just did something silly and you thought “of course you would do that. I love you.”. No better feeling

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so bECAUSE OF THE UPDATE I WENT OUTSIDE AND STARTED SCREAMING AT 12AM SO NATURALLY SOMEONE THOUGHT I WAS BEING MURDERED AND CALLED THE POLICE AND WHEN THEY GOT HERE I HAD TO GIVE THEM MY EXPLANATION FOR SCREAMING AT 12AM SO I JUST SAID HOMESTUCK AND ONE OF THE COPS EYES SUDDENLY GOT REALLY BIG AND THEN HE SAID “IT UPDATED??!?” AND THEN HE READ THE UPDATE ON HIS PHONE I HAVE A GROWN POLICE MAN SITTING IN MY DRIVEWAY CRYING AND CURSING AT HUSSIE UNDER HIS BREATH HIS PARTER GAVE HIM A SHOCK BLANKET OH MY GOD 

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*sees the icon of a mutual I literally never talk to* oh look it’s my Friend

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Hey chat commissions are open because my laptops charger is getting harder to get to work everyday and i use this laptop for work. its MORE EXPENSIVE IN EUROS and i have additional costs coming next month or so due to blood tests so im going to need help with that too

(prize differences, no i cant order in dollars because its from official lenovo site) art examples

any help even shares are HIGHLY appreciated, i take paypal, but also have ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/mistrex#

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please think of the disabled people of gaza. please think of the diabetic people of gaza. please think of the neurodivergent people of gaza. please think of those whose lives are relying on medicine that has either stopped coming in due to the blockade, or is available in such scarcity that its price has skyrocketed.

we're approaching winter. on top of the challenge of securing waterproof tents and sufficiently warm clothing, some diabetic people in gaza have stopped taking their insulin as they can no longer afford it. those who are able to acquire it for now know every shot may be their last.