#and encourage my coworkers to do the same

[irl-magicalgirl]

I discovered this morning that my work place's donation matching program includes the PCRF, Pious Projects, and MedGlobal, so i submitted my own receipts from previous donations to request matches, and then posted about it in work communication channels because i found 0 mention of PCRF or Pious Projects by acronym or full name (infuriating but not surprising) in my workplace comms.

Pleased to report that so far none of my zionist coworkers have tried to have my posts taken down (which has happened to previous pro-palestinian posts from other colleagues), about 30 colleagues have reacted to it positively, AND one of my colleagues who sits on the board for our internal racial diversity ERG reached out to me privately to thank me for posting about Palestine. They also let me know they submitted their own receipts to request donation matches for Pious Projects because of my posts (they had already done so for MedGlobal and PCRF, but had been unaware of the PP campaign for menstrual kits for Gaza).

If you work for a company that matches charity donations from employees, please check to see if they include the PCRF, MedGlobal, Pious Projects, and any others that would be applicable. And if they don't currently, please consider requesting one or more to be added. Even if the workplace/company/CEO/whatever has no intention of ever making a public or internal statement in support of Palestinians, they will often still match donations with recognized charities like the PCRF and MedGlobal, and every bit of financial support we can get for Palestinians matters.

I guess I'm sharing to say, don't let your coworkers or workplace's stance silence you, or discourage you from even trying to do anything in support of Palestine at work. I know we all have different circumstances re: job stability and risk of termination - but please still try. If you are frustrated and angry and you want to do something, it's likely that you have at least one if not many coworkers who are feeling exactly the same way. Plus, any form of discussion about Palestine - even if it has to be delicate in the workplace - is better than silence, and it can be an opening for coworkers who claim they're too ignorant to start actually learning.

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

I ran this morning AND wrote some AND made art and I’m so proud of me

[theghostiedyke]

Me and my coworkers to our newest coworker: bestie.... this is a fake day. The correct answer to working hard or hardly working is the latter. Relax. Take a nap. You will have busy days later on.

[eats-the-stars]

the curse of the family baby face strikes again. i have been mistaken for a high schooler at my place of work by a coworker that i have been working with for a whole week. the conversation went the way this usually does.

them: “so are you in school?”

me: “no i graduated.”

them: “cool which school did you go to?”

me: “[name of university]. it’s in [city name].”

them: “are you looking at colleges now?”

me: “...oh. [name of university] is a college.”

them: “oh so you’re in college!”

me: “graduated. but close.”

them, clearly assuming this is my first job: “so, in the work force now.”

me, 4+ jobs under my belt because I am 27 years old: “yep.” 

I think this is a combination of genetic baby face, not wearing makeup, having long hair, wearing leggings and simple clothing because i am autistic with sensory issues, oh yeah squeaky autistic person voice, being very short and slight of build, the fact that my glasses are purple, and general social awkwardness. the person who hired me knows that i am an adult probably. does anyone else in my workplace? i do not think so.

[ketchuppee]

During the 2008 recession, my aunt lost her job. Her, her partner, and my three cousins moved across the country to stay with us while they got back on their feet. My house turned from a family of four to a family of nine overnight, complete with three dogs and five cats between us.

It took a few years for them to get a place of their own, but after a few rentals and apartments, they now own a split level ranch in a town nearby. I’ve lost track of how many coworkers and friends have stayed with them when they were in a tight spot. A mother and son getting out of an abusive relationship, a divorcee trying to stay local for his kids while they work out a custody agreement, you name it. My aunt and uncle knew first hand what that kindness meant, and always find space for someone who needed it, the way my parents had for them.

That same aunt and uncle visited me in [redacted] city last year. They are prolific drinkers, so we spent most of the day bar hopping. As we wandered the city, any time we passed a homeless person, my uncle would pull out a fresh cigarette and ask them if they had a light. Regardless of if they had a lighter on hand or not, he offered them a few bucks in exchange, which he explained to me after was because he felt it would be easier for them to accept in exchange for a service, no matter how small.

I work for a company that produces a lot of fabric waste. Every few weeks, I bring two big black trash bags full of discarded material over to a woman who works down the hall. She distributes them to local churches, quilting clubs, and teachers who can use them for crafts. She’s currently in the process of working with our building to set up a recycling program for the smaller pieces of fabric that are harder to find use for.

One of my best friends gives monthly donations to four or five local organizations. She’s fortunate enough to have a tech job that gives her a good salary, and she knows that a recurring donation is more valuable to a non-profit because they can rely on that money month after month, and can plan ways to stretch that dollar for maximum impact. One of those organizations is a native plant trust, and once she’s out of her apartment complex and in a home with a yard, she has plans to convert it into a haven of local flora.

My partner works for a company that is working to help regulate crypto and hold the current bad actors in the space accountable for their actions. We unfortunately live in a time where technology develops far too fast for bureaucracy to keep up with, but just because people use a technology for ill gain doesn’t mean the technology itself is bad. The blockchain is something that she finds fascinating and powerful, and she is using her degree and her expertise to turn it into a tool for good.

I knew someone who always had a bag of treats in their purse, on the odd chance they came across a stray cat or dog, they had something to offer them.

I follow artists who post about every local election they know of, because they know their platform gives them more reach than the average person, and that they can leverage that platform to encourage people to vote in elections that get less attention, but in many ways have more impact on the direction our country is going to go.

All of this to say, there’s more than one way to do good in the world. Social media leads us to believe that the loudest, the most vocal, the most prolific poster is the most virtuous, but they are only a piece of the puzzle. (And if virtue for virtues sake is your end goal, you’ve already lost, but that’s a different post). Community is built of people leveraging their privileges to help those without them. We need people doing all of those things and more, because no individual can or should do all of it. You would be stretched too thin, your efforts valiant, but less effective in your ambition.

None of this is to encourage inaction. Identify your unique strengths, skills, and privileges, and put them to use. Determine what causes are important to you, and commit to doing what you can to help them. Collective action is how change is made, but don’t forget that we need diversity in actions taken.

[judas-isariot]

I don't get why we create "Robot dog" has weapon used by fucking cops, instead of creating them has friend like the I-dog was pretending to be.

[teaboot]

I'm all for acab and I'm also generally wary of security guards just for being the way most of them are (stalking my also native younger sister) but the fact is that's not every guard. We've had some very helpful ones help us out too when we were being harassed in places. Like it's not an every guard situation the same way it is an every cop situation solely because of cops' power advantage.

The truth is we *need* people to question people in positions of authority. I don't want to live in a world where people with power over others are free to throw their weight around with impunity- scrutiny is GOOD. Suspicion is GOOD.

I encourage questioning my motives, my 'authority', such as it is, for the same reason I encourage guards wearing body cams and observers filming me- because while *I* know I can be trusted not to abuse my position, nobody else does.

I don't feel the need to defend myself from accusations that have no basis in truth, because I can be 100% confident that there will be no false convictions- there will be no evidence of wrongdoing because I'm not doing anything wrong.

I treat everyone I deal with with respect. I don't make threats. I don't touch anyone, for any reason, except with consent to offer aid. You won't catch me flipping people off because I don't do that. You won't post a video of me using a chokehold on a guy because I don't do that.

But you don't know that, so play it safe. Film. Record. I hope you catch my coworkers pulling shit, cause if they're abusing their position then they shouldn't be here and I'll be happy to watch them get canned.

Always scrutinize positions of influence and power. Always. You gotta

[partywithponies]

Listen. Beloveds. I say this gently. But you have got to stop using the "oh yeah? you think it's fine to ship this? trying telling your family members and coworkers about your ship and see how they react 😤" argument in your shipping discourse.

You do realise that to most normies who have never been in fandom, all shipping is deranged behaviour, right? You know this, right?? You do know that even if your ship is the most wholesome and unproblematic thing possible, if you go up to your Great Auntie Barbara or Gary From I.T. or whoever and are like "oh yeah one of my main hobbies? going online every single day without fail and talking to a bunch of strangers about how much these same two fictional characters should kiss. yeah I spend HOURS of my free time drawing them kissing and writing them kissing and editing footage of the show to appear more romantic too", there's a strong chance they are going to think you are unbelievably embarrassingly cringe at best and utterly insane and worth avoiding from now on at worst, right????

Please. Please don't encourage impressionable teens and young adults to think it's okay to bring up any fandom shit at the dinner table or in the staffroom unprompted without the danger of having real social repercussions. Please my loves you are stressing me out. Please promise me you don't do this. Oh baby no.

[luveline]

how about spencer x badass reader and they are wearing couple or similar clothes intentionally or unintentionally?? I think that would be cutee

tysm for requesting ♡ fem!reader

"Are you kidding me?" Derek asks, sounding like a kid in a candy store, a crisp twenty in his back pocket. 

Emily follows his line of sight and feels her cheeks apple unbidden, a delighted smile on her painted lips. "Oh, my god." 

"Yeah, Garcia?" Derek asks, phone to his ear, Penelope first on his speed dial. "You need to come and see this. Like, right now. Don't worry, baby, just come and see it for yourself." 

"I don't even know what to say." Emily stares at you. 

You usually dress in line with the other women in this profession: pants that aren't too tight so you can run in if needed, a simple blouse, and a blazer if you're feeling formal. 

Today, you've opted for something softer. It was a slow change, one day you were wearing a cashmere sweater, thin and fitted to your form. Another day, you chose to layer your shirt with a cardigan of a similar colour. 

Right now? You're all Spencer. Your slacks remain unchanged but your blouse has been swapped for a shirt with a stiff starched collar and layered under what can only be described as a grandpa sweater. It's not quite ugly, but it's almost identical to Spencer's. 

What's more, you've swapped your boots for converse. 

Spencer holds the door for you. He's chosen to wear a tie at least, clinging to that last strand of professional business attire. He has two coffees, one in each hand, while you carry a box. He's all elbows as he talks to you, and you, ever his fan, follow every word with a fond smile. 

"Hey, are you guys sharing a wardrobe now?" Derek asks, absolutely unwilling to hold back.

Emily piles on, "It's cute! You're totally an old married couple, you look like my grandparents." 

"What happened to your boots, lovergirl?" Derek asks, nodding at your cons, arms crossed over the back of his chair casually. "Don't get me wrong, I'm loving the sneakers." 

"You guys totally match," Emily coos. "You could be on a Christmas card." 

You smile —you smile, Emily might just call the news— and walk past them to your desk. Hotch has moved you away from Spencer knowing you'll encourage his endless chattering, which places you on a different island of desks next to Anderson and Agent Camille. 

Spencer put his coffee down on his desk, taking off his messenger bag. "Nice going, guys. She brought you donuts. You know, to apologise for calling you both antagonistic losers yesterday," he says, smiling at the mutual horror that crops up on their faces. "The fancy kind, too. She knew your favourite flavours without asking." 

From her desk, Emily can see you've opened the box and offered them to your desk mates, your expression unperturbed. "Just don't touch the chocolate sprinkle ones, they're for Spencer," you say.

No matter what they say, how sorry they sound, you give out the donuts to anyone who'll take one until they're all gone. When Garcia arrives, she finds you sitting in your desk chair with your head leaning against Spencer's stomach, taking alternate bites of the same sprinkle-covered donut like it isn't the most domestic, coupley thing you could be doing. 

Unlike Emily and Derek, Penelope genuinely thinks you look cute. "You guys are like Brangelina," she breathes, eyes wide, her smile infectious. 

Spencer fails to hide a grin, his hand on your shoulder. You're better at controlling your emotion, sliding a small parcelled package across the desk toward her.

"Thank you, Pen," you say. "I like the shoes. They're comfy. And the sweater was a gift." Spencer nods enthusiastically. 

That explains why you'd taken such an offence. Anything to do with Spencer raises your hackles. If you felt someone was making fun of his present to you, you'd defend him with your last dying breath, or, in this instance, punish your coworkers in his honour. 

"I'm sorry," Derek apologises again, "I was kidding! What do you want me to do, you want me to wear a sweater vest too? I can do that." 

You reach back to touch Spencer's side, levelling Derek with an impartial look. Not mad, not sad. Totally indifferent. "That could be a good start." 

Spencer hums. "I think so. You wanna borrow one of mine?"

The barest hint of a smile plays on your lips. "That's generous, Spence. You're a philanthropist."

"I am." He strokes the slope of your sweater-clad shoulder proudly. "You know me, I love sharing my wardrobe." 

[dughole]

radiohead’s complicity in israeli-occupied palestine

my feelings on radiohead are complicated these days, as i’m sure they are for many. i'm using this post as a method of sorting out my own thoughts & to provide sources.

for me, the bottom line is this: radiohead is both a brand & a musical group. the brand of radiohead has always had deep roots in the israeli colonial project - they have played many, many shows there throughout their career. their breakout single - creep, was intially only a hit in israel (x, x) & the personal choices of some of radiohead's members remain just as involved. jonny greenwood met his future wife - the israeli artist, antivaxxer & vehement zionist (x) sharona katan - at a show radiohead played in israel in 1993 (x). jonny consistently collaborated with zionist musician shye ben tzur & his projects continue to tour in tel aviv as recently as last september. as for jonny himself - his only statement in regards to the war on gaza has been in mourning for the israeli concert goers on october 10th - w no such empathy spared to the 100,000 palestinians dead, injured, or missing. as for thom, while he’s thrown a few bitchfits (x) through the years abt criticism of radiohead’s shows in israel, he has imo - only paid lipservice to the criticism, saying “playing in a country isn’t the same as endorsing its government” going against the pleas of his peers & coworkers in the music industry. as well as the pro-palestine activism undertaken by his long term friend micheal stipe (x & x). (note: stipe stood by radiohead’s performance in israel in 2017, but his current political choices suggest his understanding of the situation has evolved). even his own son - noah yorke, a fellow working musician, has voiced his opposition to the genocide in gaza via instagram stories. as for the other members, rhythm guitarist ed o'brien has called for a ceasefire, as well as making a few tweets about "solidarity with palestinians & israeli peacemakers". while bassist colin greenwood reportedly refused to accept letters of dialogue from the fan-run organization radiohead fans for palestine. drummer phillip selway's commentary is similarly brief but defensive, saying radiohead's 2017 tel aviv concert "felt right"

to me, this paints a picture of a band who's members stances on israel range from abhorrent to simply not enough. & as a brand, their particular combination of action & inaction amounts to a fundamentally zionist perspective. you cannot separate radiohead as artists from radiohead as a brand name.

i've loved radiohead since i was 14. i was brought into it by another longtime fan. i cried & danced when i saw them live back in 2017 - it was, & remains, a moment that allowed me to live through the hardest parts of my life. i felt for the longest time, that radiohead's music & political positions encouraged my empathy - my questioning of conservative political authority. & while all celebrities are failures in some sense - it is still heartbreaking to know how wrong i was.

i don't think it's possible to disconnect the decade of connection & love i have for their music - I won't ask that of myself or anyone else. & the idea of scrubbing one's taste of the "morally impure" is useless effort & an inappropriate simplification of both art & our conceptions of what makes someone "bad". but i can say with certainty - i will not be giving them any more of my money, whether that be streaming their music or buying their merch - & i encourage you to do the same. silence is complicity - this is beyond silence.

in the words of nina simone - "an artist's duty, as far as i'm concerned, is to reflect the times. how can you be an artist and not reflect the times? that to me is the definition of an artist."

[totheblood]

I WISH I NEVER MET YOU.

pairing: ex!ellie williams x reader

warnings: SUGGESTIVE mdni 18+... not sm*t but close... cursing, drinking, bitchy ellie

a/n: i love this song and was like wait... i need to write a fic based off of this song so i did that and i just love mean and spiteful ellie like... i apologize.. ai audios in the fic <3 reblogs, asks, and replies are so appreciated and encouraged! thank u kisses

wc: 2.3k

"tryna forget the seven minutes we had in heaven."

The world was spinning.

Or that was what it felt like. The tequila you had downed earlier was now starting to mix with the joint you shared with Dina earlier on her front step. She had held the nearly finished stub in between her fingers and had her other hand tracing circles on the fleshy part of your thigh. It was all innocent as you laughed about the new job she had started and her weird coworker who had asked her out a few times. It was all innocent until she mentioned Ellie and how she said she was going to stop by later that night. 

It wasn’t a party, but it wasn’t not a party. A few of your friends had gathered at Dina and Cora’s new place, a housewarming party done their way. Inside a few friends had gathered around a table playing some card game and taking shots, but you needed some fresh air and Dina had followed you. From out here you could hear the faint music coming from inside, and the streetlights made Dina’s skin look golden, but it was still early and you were already fairly drunk. 

“She said she’s coming?” you confirmed, needing to double-check that Ellie agreed to be in the same room as you. 

“Yeah,” Dina coughed, taking a deep hit of the joint, the end glowing yellow and orange, “Said she feels bad about not coming around anymore.”

“Right,” you scoffed, grabbing the joint from her and taking a deep hit, closing your eyes as you blew out the smoke. 

“Can you not do that tonight?” Dina set her face up in a pout, eyes dramatically wide, “She’s finally getting over whatever this was and I just want us to be normal again.”

“I’m not doing anything,” you rolled your eyes, sitting up straighter, “I tried to talk to her but she didn’t want to. Not my fault.”

“But isn’t it?” Dina started. She knew she was crossing a boundary she shouldn’t, but she was also tipsy and exhausted from the standoff you and Ellie had.

She wasn’t wrong, it was technically your fault. Months ago you were at a party gathering just like this, twice as drunk as you were right now. Some idiot, probably Cora, had suggested playing 7 minutes in heaven, just like you all had done in high school. No one in the room was sober, therefore everyone agreed. 

A circle was formed in the living room, everyone sitting with their legs criss-crossed on the floor, giggling and blushing like 10th graders. One couple had decided to sit it out and watch the game from the couch. Two seats to your left sat Ellie, hair pulled back into a loose bun and her face already a bright red. She never was your closest friend, but she was still someone you talked to often. You’d occasionally Facetime, send each other TikToks, and sit next to each other if the group went out for dinner. But you were not her best friend, and she definitely wasn’t yours.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t think about her often. She had this girlish charm that usually translated as awkwardness and she would always make jokes under her breath, just loud enough for only you to hear them. You didn’t notice how red she got whenever she made you laugh like she had just won the world’s biggest prize. But besides that, she was cute. Really cute, and perpetually single. The group would often make jokes asking why she never dated anyone, and she would just make some comment about how she was waiting for the ‘right one’. Her eyes would always flicker over to you when she said that.

But this night, when she spun the bottle and it landed on you she nearly choked. You looked up at her with your doe eyes, those fucking eyes, she thought, and she nearly lost it. Everyone was laughing, clapping, and hollering at the idea of the two of you being locked in a dim closet for 7 minutes. 

“We don’t have to…” She started, preparing herself for rejection, “if you’re not comfortable.”

“Why wouldn’t I be comfortable?”

Click. 

The door locked the two of you inside the tiny room. This close to you she could smell you. She could smell the liquor coming off of you in waves mixing with vanilla perfume. There was just enough light for her to make out your features, the tip of your nose, and the crease in between your eyebrows. From this close, she could see everything.

“So…” her voice faltered, nervousness seeping into her tone, “what do we do?”

“I think you’re supposed to kiss me,” you whispered back, your voice immediately sending a flood to her pants.

“Do you want me to?” She whispered back, eyes searching your face and landing on your lips. You pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth, before nodding. Fuck. She took a shaky breath, her calloused fingers grazing the open skin of your waist. Her fingers were cold but your body ran hot, you were unsure if it was the alcohol or her having this effect on you. Her fingertips curled inwards, pulling you closer to her.

You were now chest to chest, both of you heavy breathing despite not having kissed yet. You were so close that she could feel your heartbeat and your tits. She gripped you a little bit harder causing you to groan. It was all so painfully slow, each movement dragged out. She dipped her head down, her lips now just hovering over yours making your eyelids flutter closed. You could feel her smile before she kissed you, as slow and languid as her movements were before.

Her lips were soft, tongue peeking through and grazing your teeth, urging them open. She was kissing your like her life depended on it. Your hands gripped at her neck, trying to pull her closer but she stumbled forward pushing you into the shelf. 

“Fuck,” she breathed in between a wet kiss, “you okay?” 

“Mhm,” You hummed. Her hand moved down now, ghosting your ass before giving it a light squeeze and lifting your thigh up so she could get even closer. If it kept going like this she was going to be inside of you within minutes. She pushed closer, her clothed cunt griding up against yours, causing you to gasp.

“Feel good?” She teased, now moving to kiss up your jaw when- 

Click.

The two of you separated, hands smoothing out your clothes as the door opened. It was obvious what had happened, a little bruise had formed on your jaw where she had kissed, and she was now wearing lipstick she didn’t come to the party wearing. 

That night you went home with her. 

You shuddered thinking of that night, not knowing it was the beginning of the end. Whatever relationship you had with her was now ruined, and it was your fault. You spent nights crying over how much of your fault it was, but that wouldn’t change anything. You ended things, and Ellie wanted nothing to do with you now. 

“I guess,” you shrugged, “but people break up every day Dina. People move on.”

It was Dina’s turn to scoff as she snatched the tiny joint back from you, “You don’t move on that easily when you’re in love with someone.”

“She was not in love with me,” you rolled your eyes again, your high making you feel anger more than anything now.

“Oh, so you’re just fucking stupid,” Dina deadpanned, taking another hit, giggling as you shoved her playfully.

“Oh, fuck you,” you laughed, trying to keep your real emotions at bay. 

“Can’t,” she laughed, blowing smoke out her nose, “Ellie would probably murder me.”

The conversation wasn’t productive, but you didn’t want to be on the front step when Ellie arrived. You feared that if she saw you, she probably wouldn’t even come to the door, let alone inside. You honestly missed her, and you were beginning to forget what she even sounded like. 

Thirty minutes had passed and you started nursing your third drink, playing beer pong in the backyard when you noticed a familiar sound. Her laugh, over everything, was the only thing you heard. 

“Oh, um I have to use the bathroom,” you excused yourself running up the stairs and straight into the kitchen where Ellie was now alone, getting a drink from the fridge. She obviously didn’t see you come in, or thought you were Dina because she was speaking. 

“You only bought Truly’s,” she scoffed from the fridge, “fucking lame.” 

“Still better than a Four Loko,” you joked. You watched her pause, her whole body stiffening before standing up straight and closing the door. She stared at the refrigerator so she didn’t have to look at you. You watched her chest rise and fall as she took deep breaths. 

“What do you want?” Her tone was much colder now, her voice icy and mean. 

“Just wanted to say hi,” your voice was small, you hated yourself for it.

“Well, don’t,” she shook her head, turning to the counter now, the hard liquor lined up in front of her. She picked up vodka, bad choice.

“Can we just-” you stepped next to her, voice in a whisper loud enough she could hear. She tensed up as you stood close to her and you hated the position you were in. 

“No, we can’t,” She shook her head, pulling a red solo cup from its place on the counter and pouring the vodka in the cup, “I told you I didn’t want to talk to you.”

“But-”

“No fucking ‘buts’. You don’t get everything you want, okay?” She looked at you now, her green eyes now accompanied by dark circles. Her freckles were more prominent with summer finally coming to an end. She looked tired, but still beautiful, “You’re so fucking selfish.”

“I’m selfish because I couldn’t date you?” You laughed bitterly, that third drink hitting you like a bag of bricks, “That’s real rich considering you’re the one who’s been an asshole to me because you can’t fuck me anymore.”

She looked pissed. Her hands gripped the sides of the counter as she looked down at it, trying to stop herself from doing what she wanted to. Instead, she downed the vodka, not even flinching.

“No one wants to fuck you,” she looked at you, eyes glossed over, “and you’re the one who dumped me over text like a fucking coward.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“I’m an asshole to you because I want to make it perfectly clear I want nothing to do with you. I don’t want to fuck you, I don’t want to see you, and I definitely don’t want to hear any sob story about how you ‘couldn’t’ do it. You’re a pathetic loser who broke up with me over text on our 6 month anniversary.”

“Ellie,” a voice from behind you caused you both to turn around. You wiped at the tears rolling down your face, “What the fuck?”

It was Dina, standing with her arms crossed as she watched you two in disappointment. You ran off pushing past her and into the bathroom, crying pathetically on the toilet and blowing your nose in the toilet paper. Back in the kitchen Dina had approached Ellie, an eyebrow raised as if she was waiting for an answer. 

“She just,” Ellie poured another cup, “she gets under my fucking skin, okay?”

“But talking to her like that?” She shook her head in shame, “What’s gotten into you?”

“She has!” Ellie replied, “That shit fucking hurt, okay? And I let her get away with it at first because I loved her but all she thinks is that I’m mad because I can’t fuck her. I’m over it.”

“She’s just saying that,” Dina’s voice was now more tender as she talked to Ellie, “she misses you and doesn’t know how to deal with it.”

“She doesn’t fucking miss me,” Ellie downed the second cup.

“You just tell yourself that because you wouldn’t know how to feel if it was true.”

“If she missed me she wouldn’t have done that,” Ellie sighed.

“Not everything is black and white,” Dina sighed looking to the side. “Just try to get over it before the trip. It’s a really big deal to Cora and I don’t want it to be a mess because you both are so miserable.”

“I don’t think I can come, D,” Ellie shook her head, fingers tapping on the counter, “Not like this, not with her.”

“Ellie, please don’t do this,” Dina held her shoulders, her eyes wide and sad. Ellie had a soft spot for Dina, which was the only reason she came to the housewarming party, but she was unsure of how much she would take before she snapped. 

“Fine,” she sighed, “but I’ll be driving by myself. I’m not sitting in a two-hour-long car ride with her.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Dina squeezed Ellie tight, making her groan and attempt to push her off. 

---

The trip came sooner than expected, the party being nearly a month ago. You drove down with Dina and Cora, singing Lana songs the whole drive. The Hamptons were quiet around this time and Cora (and her rich family) owned a vacation house out there on the water. You spent nearly every summer here, you, Dina, Cora, Ellie, Jesse, Faye, and Cora’s twin brother, Orion all crammed into their giant house. Except this time was different. This was the trip that Dina and Cora were going to announce their engagement. 

No one knew yet, and Dina had wanted your little group of friends to be the first to know. A special intimate moment between the group and the place it had started. However, when you pulled up to the house, driving up the long driveway, you saw Ellie’s jeep parked out front with her and some girl leaning against the side of the car. 

You all hopped out, but you stood to the side as you watched Dina and Cora hug Ellie and this new girl. 

“Hey guys, I hope you don’t mind,” Ellie spoke, eyes drifting to yours for a moment before she smirked, “this is my girlfriend, June.”

Fuck.

[missmastectomy]

I was hesitant to write this post, but I want to talk about why so many women and teenage girls are getting double mastectomies.

The justification a lot of trans people use for elective double mastectomies is that "top surgery" helps people feel comfortable in their bodies. Traditionally, this surgery was restricted to transmen. In the recent decade, however, nonbinary identified and even non-trans identified women have been getting mastectomies. I remember clear as day when my coworker (who identified as a "cis" woman) told me that at 18 she was planning on saving for top surgery. I myself got my breasts removed when I identified as nonbinary, having been on testosterone for 2 years.

It's important to remember that no person is born wanting surgery. Society creates conditions that are hostile to women, GNC, and gay people, and this hostility encourages a dissociated state. The body is removed from the mind - instead of the body being an intrinsic part of your personhood, a mechanism through which we experience the world, it instead becomes ornamental. This is perfectly represented by all forms of non-reconstructive cosmetic surgery, which risk people's health for entirely aesthetic reasons.

So, why do teen girls want to remove their breasts? For those of who experienced unwanted sexual advances from a young age, the answer is intuitive. Breasts are inherently sexualized. They are not seen as a vital organ that contributes to bodily function and health, but as a decoration, the only purpose of which is to attract men and feed babies. In this way, a woman's breasts do not even belong to her. When men openly gawk at a woman without a bra, when relatives grope at her as a pubescent girl, when we are exposed to an endless stream of hyper-sexualized images of women with their cleavage out, a message is sent loud and clear: existing in a female body is unsafe.

I want to make it very clear that an elective mastectomy and the practices of breast ironing are very different, but there are commonalities in the attitudes behind both. Breast ironing is done to pubescent girls in order to "prevent" her being sexually assaulted or harassed by men, sometimes including male relatives. When I hear stories of girls in the West starving themselves and binding to hide their chests, I can't help but see similarities. When I was binding and restricting calories as a 15 year old, I would have said I was doing it so that I could pass as a man. But I would have been lying to you. I was lying to myself. I didn't hate my breasts because I was "born in the wrong body." I hated my breasts because they were used to justify my sexualization. From my perspective they put me in danger.

We often hear that women's rights in the West have been secured, but you need only look at the war on women's bodies to see that that is a fantasy. When young girls constantly receive the messaging that your curves and boobs WILL attract men and that you will be objectified for it, many will try to opt out.

Take Liv Hewson, for example.

She says herself that her anorexia was a manifestation of "gender dysphoria," but the question remains - where did this dysphoria come from? Why would anorexia develop as an outlet for it? What makes more sense: a young woman was born hating her body and her breasts because she has a gendered, non-female soul, or that same woman hates her body because she has been conditioned as such by a patriarchal society, the same society that encourages extreme self harm and body modification through a multi-billion dollar cosmetic industry?

Gender dysphoria in young women needs to be demystified. It's not special, it's not unique. It is NOT evidence that she needs invasive surgery or steroids to feel comfortable in her body. It is evidence that she is in pain. In order to address the rising rate of transition in young women, we must first acknowledge the conditions that nurture this form of self-hatred.

Transition IS a feminist issue. It is just as relevant in Western feminism as tackling the beauty industry, female sexualization, and violence perpetrated against women through porn. All of these issues are deeply interconnected. When we approach dysphoric women with compassion and encourage them to perceive their bodies as a part of themselves that deserves to remain intact and whole, rather than as their enemy, we take a necessary step towards female liberation.

[demiesworld]

jjk men and how they show their love for you

☆ characters: satoru gojo, suguru geto, toji fushiguro, kento nanami, + choso

☆ genre: fluff, romantic, domestic

☆ contents: mentions of abuse & death in toji's part, but nothing graphic

☆ notes: reader is a female and uses she/her pronouns. ages are not mentioned in this, but the reader is of legal age. curse spirits, sorcerers, etc. do not exist. everything is purely fictional.

— satoru gojo: cuddling

he likes it when you two are alone together in the privacy of your home, cuddling together underneath a warm blanket while watching a really bad (in his opinion) movie that you picked out. and even though he really wants to critique the writer's script of the characters, and the actors acting performance, satoru doesn't say not a word to you about it. he just holds you around your waist tighter and nuzzles his nose into your neck. he likes the smell of you after a shower because you smell fresh and it's comforting to him.

— suguru geto: quality time

to suguru, there's no better way to keep your attention on him than taking you out somewhere or just spending time together. when he takes you out on a date, he encourages you to silence your phone (or better yet turn it off) to avoid any distractions. same goes for when you two are being intimate. he's a man that wants eyes on him and for you to listen to him. he does the same thing for you. you want to tell suguru about the nosy bitch at work? he's listening and giving you advice. you want to go to the netherlands? he's buying a plane ticket in business class for you two. whatever it is, suguru loves to spend time with you as long as you are on the same page as him.

— toji fushiguro: acts of service

growing up in the zenin family and being abused by them sculpted toji into the cold, callous man he is today. followed by the sudden and tragic death of his previous wife he didn't think he could find love ever again. not until he met you. you warmed this man's heart at the first time he saw you. he likes to show you that he loves you by doing things that makes your life easier. he'll pay and put gas in your car. he will help you with cleaning the dishes after a meal that you've cooked for. if you're running short on money for you rent, he'll even cover it for you and doesn't expect for you to pay him back. just the thought of you being comfortable is a good enough reward.

— kento nanami: words of affirmation

with kento, you would wake up in the mornings to a good morning text followed by him reminding you of your beauty, your excellence, and telling you not to let menial things get you in a bad mood. in your lunches you would find a hand-written note from kento complimenting you. in spite of being a full-time salaryman, kento would call you during his lunch break to talk to you and listen as you complain about your coworkers. he loves hearing your voice. at night, just before your head hits the pillow he would kiss your forehead and wish you a good night's rest. kento can be quite the charming man when it comes to you.

— choso: gift giving

choso... precious choso. he likes to shower you with gifts as a way to show his undying love and appreciation for you. if you mention that you like something, but you couldn't get it, best believe it will be either on your doorstep or in your hand within the next day. when he sees you eyeing something in the store for even a second, choso will buy it for you. he won't take any "no's", "stops", or returning the item back. choso bought it FOR you. if you return any of his gifts it will hurt his feelings and he'll think you don't love him. so be careful when you are trying to let choso know not to get you gifts.

letter from demi: i have adopted a new style of how i do... idk what you call these blurbs? headcanons? idk. anyways im changing some things up with how my posts are... styled. i hope the work and the way it is made looks good! lmk what you think babes!

[ceresun]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃.

The fourteenth of February was always the same for Alastor, always staying inside on his own, creating new ideas for his radio show. But this year is different, now he’s spending the day with his lover. And he’ll make sure by any means that no one ruins this day.

pairing : human! alastor x fem! reader

extra : fem! reader ⟡ word count - 0.6k ⟡ alastor is probably ooc and it might be cringe ⟡ reblogs are greatly encouraged and appreciated! ⟡

Alastor who had always spent his Valentine's day alone, opting to stay cooped up in his room, in recent times preferring to stay in his radio station, working on new ideas for his broadcasts. This isn’t to say Alastor wouldn’t receive letters in the mail consisting of women trying to capture his heart. He was a charmer, no doubt about it.

He just didn’t see the appeal in having women fawn over him purely for his popularity. That is up until he meets you. Alastor who had gone on a quick coffee run, trying to take a break from his work. Once it’s his turn to order, he looks up and sees you.

Alastor who tenses up, getting out of his trance once he hears your softly mutter a quick “Are you okay, sir?” He nods, fixing his glasses before stuttering out his order. Alastor who knows he has to have you once he hears your giggle and mutter of “Your order will be right with you!”

Alastor who grabs his coffee in a rush, hastily making his way back to the radio station, not noticing the message written on it. He wouldn’t have noticed it if it weren't for one of his coworkers pointing it out and teasing him.

“You’re definitely something.. Maybe you’d like to meet sometime? ᡣ𐭩”

IF SOMEONE WERE TO EVER ASK Alastor to list what the best things in his life would be, you’d be on that list. And of course, that would mean he’d do anything for you, his darling girl.

He’d never let anyone harm you. And if they did, Alastor would make sure they’d regret it. This extended to anyone, no matter if they were close to you. So when he heard one of your closest friends make fun of you right in front of your face, he knew he had to do something about it. They were none the wiser when he had lured them into a cabin out in the woods, pretending to be throwing you a surprise.

The scene was one you couldn’t even imagine. He had torn them into pieces until they were practically unrecognizable. His eyes flash towards his watch and he realizes you were probably waiting for him at home. With that, he picks up the body and disposes of it nearby and makes his way over to the cabin to clean himself up. He couldn’t go home with your dead friend's blood, now could he? Especially on a night where he’d be taking you out to dine.

Once he makes it home he goes inside and knocks on your guys bedroom door. “Dear, can I come in?” He asks, his joyful smile evident in his tone.

You hesitate before opening the door and letting Alastor in. Alastor sees your dejected look and worries. Had there been someone who had upset you while he was gone? “What’s the matter, cher?” He asks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“It’s nothing.. Just that I don’t really want to go out anymore. I don't think my dress fits all that well and—“ You say before getting interrupted by Alastor.

“If this is about what your little friend said, forget about their nonsense! You look lovely, darling.” He reassures you, grabbing your hand and placing a soft kiss onto it. “Now, let me go get myself dressed and we can head out, yeah?” He says before grabbing his suit and going into the bathroom to change.

Coming out of the bathroom, he makes his way over to where you sat on the bed and presses a kiss onto your temple. “Don’t you fret about anything, alright? Everything will be alright.”

“I’ll make sure nothing ever happens to you. No matter what.”

© ceresun >ᴗ< -> my works are not to be translated or reposted without permission!

[prentissluvr]

campus library, 7:00 a.m. — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, fluff, stanford!era, unedited, 658 words. requested ! for my 800 followers event [ closed ] .

summary : a nervous first year (sam) asks the cute libary worker (you) for help printing and accidentally develops a crush on the first day of classes.

it’s a good thing for the library patrons that you’re in a particularly pleasant mood, which is a rare occurrence at seven a.m., especially on the first day of a new semester. the poor first years are stressed. you’re leisurely as you walk behind the circulation desk, setting your bag down by the chair and settling there with your laptop. it only takes about a second for someone to approach, holding his own laptop in nervous hands.

he does a pretty good jop of hiding that he’s nervous, but it’s clear to you that he feels out of place and maybe even a little lost.

“hi,” you greet him with a smile, inviting him closer and encouraging him to ask for whatever help he needs when he hesitates.

“hi.” he gives a tight lipped smile back, relaxing just a touch. “could you maybe help me with printing something, or…?” he’s clearly unsure if you’re the right person to ask. that’s a classic question, and one that further confirms your suspicions that he’s a first year. (though once you helped a junior print for the first time as a first year yourself last spring semester).

“absolutely!” you confirm, keeping the friendly smile on your face to hopefully put him at ease. “have you been able to connect your computer to the printers at all yet?” you’re pretty sure you know the answer, but ask anyway.

the student, who’s taller than he looks, all folded in on himself, shakes his head sheepishly. “i’m stuck there,” he explains.

“that’s alright. here,” you nod your head towards the nearest printer, standing up and leading him over. he follows, laptop cradled in his big hands. “do you mind?” you ask, hands hovering over the touchpad when he sets it down on the table.

“no, no, of course not. go ahead.” he gives you quick permission to touch his computer, and you spend the next minute explaining and showing him how to connect to the printer. in the system settings, you catch his name. maybe you’re a little curious about him. sam winchester.

he makes the attempt to print out the syllabus for a political science class. and, as often happens, it doesn’t work.

“the printers here sort of suck,” you explain quickly, so that he doesn’t feel bad or more nervous. “sometimes it’s because you’re using a personal computer. unfortunately, i don’t know how to fix that issue, but the tech services desk opens at eight and should be able to help you! if you need to print now, you can head to the computer lab, sign in with your stanford email and password, then select the same printer that i showed you.”

“okay,” he sighs out. “thank you so much,” he says sincerely, looking relieved that there’s a second solution. 

“of course,” you smile, then walk off back to your seat as he heads for the computer lab. about a minute later, he returns, looking slightly embarrassed. it turns out that he still can’t quite get it to work. he’s very apologetic for bothering you, but you assure him quickly and easily that it’s no problem at all. he’s so kind and frankly, cute, so you have no qualms with helping him.

the syllabus prints, and he thanks you several times. each time, you assure him that it’s no problem, that you’re happy to help. something about him makes you want to ease his nerves. you hope that your adamant kindness makes a good impression for his first day.

it must have at least a little, because you see him in the library often. then, you see his name in the list of new hires for the library this semester. the next time you meet him is the day that your boss asks you to show him how to shelve books and take inventory. you work together once a week. he’s easily your favorite coworker, and you’re pretty sure that you’re his.

[noirandchocolate]

My Coworker’s Mom’s blanket is complete!

My squares are, from top to bottom: 4th on row 1, 2nd, 3rd, & 4th on row 2, 1st & 2nd on row 4, and 1st & 2nd on row 5. All the rest are CMom’s. When choosing the squares I’d do, I picked a mix of graphic ones (the trees), cables, openwork/lace and textured patterns, to go with the ones CMom made.

Once all my squares were done, I made sure all 20 had crocheted borders with the same number of stitches per side and then crocheted them all together. Finally, I put on one of my favorite blanket borders: one wrong-side row of half-double crochet (so the ‘extra’ bar of the stitches ends up on the right-side), and one right-side row of {backward single crochet+chain two+skip one} repeated. I love borders with backward crochet stitches; I think they make things look so ‘finished’ on the edges.

So, hopefully there will be a day soon when Coworker and I are at the office at the same time (rare) so I can show her these photos and set up when I can give this to her. <3 I really enjoyed completing her Mom’s final creation and I hope she’ll think I did it justice!

Thanks to everybody on my original post about this who encouraged me and sent kind messages. I didn’t expect this to attract attention like it has and I’ve had fun reading other people’s similar stories. As I said in the reblog chains on that post, crafting really brings people together! So hey, all you knitters, crocheters, and other assorted fiber-craft creators—hope you’re having a great time with your projects!