#Class of Service

[frodo-a-gogo]

Let us be brutally honest with ourselves and with eachother for a moment. If he weren't obese you motherfuckers would be capable of percieving evrart claires sexy sexy moral ambiguity and complex charms

[800-dick-pics]

Help a Black Disabled Lesbian out of Debt!

Hey yall Im in a really tight spot because my abusive mother, she put bills in my name as child so now I am getting debt collector mail. She lied to me and said she paid them off but she didnt. I have been in classes for a month and I really cant pay this off especially now. Because of this I can no longer use my credit card to buy groceries which is a huge issue esp because my dog needs food. My mom refuses to help me pay these debts off. With the help of my partner we have been able to cover previous bills but this one is over $450. I really need to pay this off ASAP.

GOAL - $485

CA: $sleepyhen

VN: wildwotko

DM for Paypl

[yioh]

same genre

[meruz]

childhood friend reunion at the merch table

[byler-alarmist]

Do people know most paper receipts are harmful to their health?

I'm going to get up on my soapbox for a minute, but do people realize how pretty much everyone is being overloaded with endocrine disruptors like BPA/BPS on a near-daily basis??

I don't think many people understand that ever since most of the world transitioned to thermal paper receipts (cheaper than ink), almost every receipt you handle from the gas station to the grocery store to the Square terminal printer at the local co-op is coated with Bisphenol-A (BPA) or its chemical cousin Bisphenol-S (BPS).

These chemicals have not only been proven to cause reproductive harm to human and animals, they've also been linked to obesity and attention disorders.

Not sure if your receipt is a thermal receipt? If you scratch it with a coin and it turns dark, it's thermal.

BPA/BPS can enter the skin to a depth such that it is no longer removable by washing hands. When taking hold of a receipt consisting of thermal printing paper for five seconds, roughly 1 μg BPA is transferred to the forefinger and the middle finger. If the skin is dry or greasy, it is about ten times more. 

Think of how many receipts you handle every day. It's even worse for cashiers and tellers, who may handle hundreds in a single shift. It is also a class issue, since many people who work retail and food service are lower-income and will suffer worse health consequences over time from the near-constant exposure.

Not only that, receipts printed with thermal ink are NOT recyclable, as they pollute the rest of the paper products with the chemicals.

People don't know this and recycle them anyway, so when you buy that "green" toilet paper that says "100% recycled"? Yup, you are probably wiping your most sensitive areas with those same chemicals (for this reason, I buy bamboo or sugarcane toilet paper as a sustainable alternative to recycled paper).

This page from the Minnesota Pollution Control Agency has some good links if you want to learn more.

As consumers, we need to demand better from our businesses and from our governments. We need regulation of these chemicals yesterday.

If you are a buyer or decision-maker for a business, the link above also contains a shortlist of receipt paper manufacturers that are phenol-free.

If you work at a register, ask customers if they want a receipt. If they don't and you can end the transaction without printing one, don't print one!

As a consumer, fold receipts with the ink on the inside, since that's where the coating is. Some more good tips here.

And whatever you do, DO NOT RECYCLE THERMAL RECEIPTS

[stargirl230]

Special delivery!

Birthday card i made for a friend that i ended up really liking :)

(no reposts; reblogs appreciated)

[bidisastersanji]

Nami ropes Zoro into coming to her dungeon’s shibari class because their model called in sick last minute and the witch has him in enough debt as it is.

Zoro thinks he’s gonna be bored as fuck until his eye meets the instructor’s baby blues and he is done for. Absolutely done for.

Nami didn’t mention how hot this Sanji guy was wtf wtf his legs his ass his smirk his stupid hair he wants to break this man’s suave disposition, break his composure and mask how dare he walk so confidently up to him like he’s about to eat him right up

They sit down at the bar and Sanji talks him through shibari and how it works, checks where he’s allowed to touch him, explains how it feels if there’s risk of nerve damage, that he should squeeze back when he squeezes his hand etc

They have ten minutes to get to know each other and talk a bit, get comfortable before it starts and they immediately get into some playful banter- they talk a bit about Japanese culture etc- Sanji shares what he knows about the history of shibari and Zoro is surprised that he’s actually more and more interested and looking forward to the sensory experience. Maybe it’ll be meditative.

It’s time for class to start, he and the students place the mats on the floor and of course Sanji had immediately noticed Zoro was muscular when he saw him walk in but nothing could’ve prepared him for the sight of this marble statue of a man stripping into shorts. Just shorts.

He keeps his thoughts as chaste as he can as he starts tying his stone-faced model (is he bored?) first showing what the first step is supposed to look like before demonstrating it slower and talking the class through it. He can feel Zoro’s gaze on him like a warm weight on his skin, and he worries his lower lip to keep himself from getting distracted. (Don’t look at his ass. Don’t look at his bulge. You’re a professional)

On his side Zoro is relaxing into the comforting pressure of the ropes against his body, letting himself slip into a partially meditative state. He feels calm, safe. Like a kitten being held by the back of the neck. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all. He’ll still complain to Nami after though.

Then comes the time for the suspension and his eyes are getting heavy, a bit dazed as he stares at Sanji’s elegant form hoisting him up by pulling down on another set of ropes.

The rope digs deliciously into his skin and muscles where gravity takes hold, and the deep pressure calms him- he momentarily closes his eyes to savour the moment, feeling himself sway a bit from the ring on the ceiling.

During the class, he faintly registered that the other pairs in the room act in somewhat intimate manners- occasionally groping, caressing, slapping, kissing, spanking as they go through the motions of the tie Sanji taught them, and now he’s partially aware that he’s aching for Sanji’s touch himself, unsatisfied with the press of fingers here and there checking the ropes’ tension.

Zoro’s limbs, as expected from the blonde’s earlier explanations, start to feel a bit numb and pinpricky. As if able to read his mind, a warm hand meets his , and Zoro obediently flexes his fingers, as instructed before the session, the left, then the right, demonstrating that the nerves in his arms are okay.

Mechanically, Sanji whispers a barely audible “good boy”, and Zoro hears a very low, pleading groan before realising it came from his own traitorous throat. He can’t fight the light blush that dust his cheeks in embarrassment.

Sanji’s pupils are definitely dilated because of the low lighting, and not because of the muscular man he’s got tied up, a vision floating in a graceful, immobile pose before him. The soft breaths and grumbles that Zoro made when being tied up, he managed to deal with. But a low groan like that? From being praised? Fuck.

Sanji comes closer and whispers in his ear, teasing his bunny initiate about his apparent enjoyment of his first shibari experience.

Zoro rolls his eyes and resumes the playful banter and ribbing they’d engaged in earlier, breaking the docile mask he’d put on for the benefit of the class.

This bunny has teeth. Sharp ones.

Sanji hopes he’ll get to see this burgeoning brat again- he’ll have to cash in a favour from Nami to try and get him back here. He could have so much fun with this one.

[thottybrucewayne]

The way nonblack leftists speak about Black leftists is interesting, to say the least. Yall know nothing about Black liberation or self-determination politics or pretty much ANY Black leftist thought but you feel secure enough to call us overly identitarian and dismiss our concerns about how pervasive antiblackness is within yall spaces (online AND offline) as idpol nonsense. You don't even hold community with Black people. The single drip of knowledge yall possess of Black leftist theory has been run through a filter of at least 15 white and nb breadtube discord voice call conversations and at least one vaush stream before it got to your ears and yet, STILL, you have the gall to tell Black people that WE are the ones who don't read. Okay

[mrs-nubenueve]

udai and akaashi facetiming over why akaashi thought it was absolutely necessary to strike out an overly-indulgent exposition scene but udai gets distracted bc why tf is akaashi. who drinks caffeinated beverages like water. who pays no heed to how well his meal of choice corresponds to the time of day/night. who he swore was deathly allergic to non-processed convenient store and non-fast food. is so obviously and so carefully meal prepping well-balanced and objectively healthy meals in cutesy matching tupper sets.

[getitdonetrafficschool]

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[abyssal-glory]

vector portrait for digital imaging class of RGB!! hey go read The Property of Hate if you haven’t already btw it’s an amazing comic by @modmad that i’ve been hotglued to since my junior year of high school.

big thank you to mod for giving their permission/blessing to wrestle with this horrible tv bastard in adobe illustrator for the express purpose of shilling him and this comic to my unsuspecting class <3

(edit: god okay pls click for fullscreen. hogy shit)

[zytes]

ozone

[r3musmoony]

Guys what the fuck.

My campus now had two lifts not working (one has been out of service for like almost a month now) and the third lift only goes up to the third floor. my class is on the fourth floor. My class is also Critical Issues in Disability. this sounds like a critical issue to me. Plus, this is the room I have to wait in at the moment

[Image ID: a picture of glass windows with two black line decals on it. one of the decals show a person in a wheelchair being pushed by someone else, looking at each other. The second decal shows an older person using a cane leaning on another person slightly. End ID]

the irony of me waiting here for accessibility. I am. so tired of this shit.

UPDATE: the class is being moved somewhere more accessible, instead of the fourth floor. Now I feel awkward for making it a big deal but also now I’m happy because I might’ve just brought attention to something maybe people haven’t noticed before? I don’t know how to feel but it’s some feeling

UPDATE 2: I have to go into one building and walk through three other buildings to get to my class now

[goshyesvintageads]

United Airlines Inc, 1988

[kaeyx]

Ok this is completely out of left field but hear me out. A royal!au with Diluc where he's a little known lord in the capital, and you're a bachelor/ette being taken to every ball of the season and getting paraded around to secure a good match. Diluc is incredibly rich and known in his lands for his kindness, revered by his soldiers, but he never really cared for the theatrics of high society nearer the capital. He was too young before his dad died, and he ran off during what should have been his debutant year, so nobody really knows of him besides trading partners. He always supplies the nobles with fine wine and meat from his herds but declines every invitation to actually come and attend an event in the big cities.

Until one time his wait staff and close trading partners manage to convince him, and he agrees to go to just one ball because he's in the area for business and the networking is always useful. He's not up to date with the current trends but gets a suit tailored for him ahead of time. He hasn't read any of the famous writers of the moment but he's still a learned man who can talk philosophy with all the men twice his age, who are charmed and all too eager to throw their kids at him, hoping for a chance to bring their families together.

You're one of the debutants and have had to sit through a dozen introductions while your parents try to secure a good match. You're not rich or important enough to have your pick of husband, but you're not poor enough to be completely irrelevant. Of all the bachelors running around and trying to charm you with their knowledge of the latest plays and wars, only one catches your eye. It's hard to not notice him, honestly. Diluc is tall and broad but doesn't hold himself like a man of war, fiery hair tied back from a handsome, brooding face while he stands on the sidelines and talks to some older nobleman. You've never seen him before, and none of your friends seem to know him either. He's the lord of a smallish county near the border, and you recognise the name from their generous sponsorships and rich wines.