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Delicious. We love to see it.

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one of the most frustrating things about getting a job is that after you go through the absolute hellscape that is applying and interviewing and you finally prove yourself worthy of having employment, you'll end up in the workforce and realise that 90% of the people with jobs are not actually very good at them. so like why was all of that even so hard

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says “I’m not getting my diploma at graduation Myself and 3 other seniors were notified that UChicago won’t confer our degrees at graduation this weekend. Despite finishing 4 rigorous and excruciating years of undergrad This comes off the heels of the university already having me and other students arrested & criminalized. The 4 of us have been targeted for “possibly” participating in campus-wide protests which a large majority of our student body has. We assumed we’d have criminal records before degrees. And now we might not even have that We’ve done the work. We deserve our degrees. Standing on the side of justice shouldn’t negate that. Sign, call, write to tell UChicago this is not okay. We need more support.” Go to his profile and click in the link in his bio for a quick way to contact the University.

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yeosang · crazy form · 231216

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me holding a gun to a mushroom: tell me the name of god you fungal piece of shit

mushroom: can you feel your heart burning? can you feel the struggle within? the fear within me is beyond anything your soul can make. you cannot kill me in a way that matters

me cocking the gun, tears streaming down my face: I’M NOT FUCKING SCARED OF YOU

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you can click on this button once daily to help palestine and support other causes in the middle east for free. it takes literally 5 seconds and could help save lives so please take the time to click and share this link.

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felix - lalalala ending fairies ✨🧚‍♂️⚡️

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I should get a keffiyeh. There’s a keffiyeh shop in Al-Khalil (Hebron) and they have such beautiful keffiyehs. They’re the last remaining Palestinian factory. Please support them if you can.

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i must not get takeout. takeout is the wallet-killer. takeout is the little-death that brings total obliteration. i will face the kitchen, fridge, and pantry. i will make choices about what to cook and then execute them. when hunger is gone there will be nothing. only i will remain.

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We are watching over a million people starve in real time. Do you see why we're angry?

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If you haven't heard a National March on Washington in solidarity with Palestine is being planned for Nov. 4. If you can't make it (like me) consider donating to ANSWER Coalition to cover transportation costs for buses to help get as many people to the march as possible.

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Borja González

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The Palestinian Ministry of Health released a full report with names, ages and IDs of those who were killed – maybe at least in part as a fuck you to Western media and the US president who suddenly cast doubt on the number of fatalities. Over 7000 people died. Whole families wiped out forever. It's beyond comprehension. May their memory be eternal.

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During a supply run with Zoro, a well-meaning lady tells Sanji he's pretty. Not handsome, no--PRETTY. "Your swordsman over there is handsome," she says, pointing at Zoro, who's examining liquor bottles over at another stall. "YOU are pretty." How does he react, & what happens next? 👀 (1/2)

he just laughs at first, if only to cover up how that one word from a stranger has hit him like a punch to the gut.

he looks like a man, and people don't call men pretty. rogueish, certainly. even charming; he's gotten that before at least, but pretty? he laughs some more, gives her a smile and a few words that he doesn't even register, and the merchant lady tilts her head. "you don't get that often, do you?"

"never gotten it at all, actually," he answers, bravado draining away to leave a mumble that he isn't even sure she can hear.

but she must have, because she slides his purchases to him and hums, "well, you're very beautiful. anyone'd have to be blind not to see it."

"maybe," he allows hesitantly, taking the bag with a nod of goodbye. he cannot help but feel as though he's realised something that he won't be able to ignore.

and sure enough, back on the ship, the words swim in his mind. they pop up in binding white font against the dark of his eyelids as he tries and fails to get to sleep. you're very beautiful.

do i want to be beautiful? he asks himself, and halfway through he already knows, he knows the answer. feels it like an ache in his bones.

sanji's never let himself think about it, but once he starts he can't stop. he imagines himself in makeup, pots and pencils and brushes in front of a mirror, his hair fluffed to perfection, lips red as the dawn and a beauty mark beneath his eye. he thinks about what it would feel like to put on a dress, a proper one; cotton and linen traded for silk, starched dress shirts abandoned in favour of satin blouses and full skirts that nip in with ribbon at the waist. he thinks of the wicker wedge sandals that nami sometimes wears. he thinks about being a man, with a little something more.

he flips over and shoves his face into his pillow. he needs to stop thinking about things that he wants but can never have.

*

sanji's usually better at keeping his secrets, but eventually he slips. he should have known it was only a matter of time before the magnitude of it all became too much to bear and spilled out across the floor.

fortunately, his crew is there to catch him.

they take all of it in stride, even though sanji himself doesn't even know what all of it is yet; he figures things out as they go along. he finds clothes that aren't his in his closet, accessories appearing on his dresser. zoro keeps buying him silk blouses and it makes him want to laugh and cry in equal amounts. nami sees her chance to snag a makeup practice dummy and grabs it, which results in many a night in the girls' quarters, fooling around with makeup until they're either too tired or too giddy with laughter. the rest of the crew show their support in smaller ways, though no less significant—

and now, a year later and leaning against the bar counter of a vaguely familiar town, sanji suspects that he's somehow found himself. it hits him with all the grandeur of someone realising oh, it's stopped raining, or oh, tomorrow's tuesday— sinks into him honey-slow like the burn of the whiskey he sips, warm and comfortable, like a coat he hadn't realised he'd been wearing this whole time and had become his favourite without him even knowing. put like that, it sounds incredibly silly; sanji chuckles as he takes another drink, and a hand settles low on his back where the blue velvet of his dress dips down.

"hey, beautiful," zoro whispers by his ear, pressing a kiss to his cheekbone before leaning over his shoulder to order, and sanji smiles as he swirls his glass with a slow twirl of his wrist.

maybe he'll go look for that merchant lady again. he's fairly sure he owes her a thank you.

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