#Little Miss Flint

[blackgirlsreverything]

Awww this made me so sad. 🥲

Her GoFundMe is sourced.

[idkwhatiwantinlife]

all jokes aside i think this is proof that young people can run the world better. a gen z clapback from a teenage activist shuts down a human trafficker.

and i know she didn’t know that they were looking for him but that’s not the point. the point is that gen z has the ability to hit them where it hurts and to never back down from a fight.

greta thunberg got attention not by lobbying but by skipping school to sit in front of the parliament.

little miss flint wrote a letter to the president at 11 years old instead of waiting for the adults to do something.

dylan mulvaney changed the way trans people are viewed (and destroying caitlin jenner) and got the attention of the president just by documenting every day of her transition on tiktok.

[sasha4books]

[carmenvicinanza]

Amariyanna Copeny. Little Miss Flint

https://www.unadonnalgiorno.it/amariyanna-copeny/

Mari Copeny, conosciuta soprattutto col nome di Little Miss Flint, utilizzato per molte campagne di sensibilizzazione, è una giovane attivista nata il 6 luglio 2007 a Flint, nel Michigan.

È salita alla cronaca internazionale per la potente azione di sensibilizzazione sulla crisi idrica della sua città e per le tante raccolte fondi a sostegno dell’infanzia svantaggiata.

Il suo nome completo è Amariyanna e aveva otto anni quando ha scritto una lettera a Barack Obama che, su suo suggerimento, si era recato personalmente nella città per constatare da vicino la devastazione delle vite dei suoi abitanti nelle cui case veniva erogata acqua avvelenata dal piombo. La visita presidenziale aveva acceso i riflettori sulla situazione critica ed erano stati stanziati cento milioni di dollari per misure tese ad aiutare a sradicare il problema, anche se le riparazioni necessarie alle infrastrutture hanno avuto bisogno di quattro anni per essere completate.Nel 2017 è diventata l’ambasciatrice nazionale delle nuove generazioni alla Marcia delle Donne di Washington e al National Climate. Impegnata contro il bullismo, fa parte della Flint Youth Justice League e del MDE Anti-Racism Student Advisory Council.È stata presidente del consiglio d’amministrazione di Kid Box 2019 e lavorato con Eighteen by 18. Per due volte ha preso la parola alla Marcia per la Scienza per raccontare la crisi idrica di Flint.  Le è stata anche dedicata una bambola modellata sulla sua figura.

Ha utilizzato la sua piattaforma per sensibilizzare sulla crisi idrica nella sua comunità, ma anche per raccogliere fondi per le giovani e giovani più svantaggiati. È riuscita a trovare i soldi per distribuire oltre 17.000 zaini pieni di materiale scolastico, un evento natalizio annuale con migliaia di giocattoli, cesti pasquali, proiezioni di film e molti altri eventi mirati a bambine e bambini della sua comunità come il progetto di donare libri di autori di colore per accrescere l’istruzione, la conoscenza e favorire l’empowerment. Ha raccolto e regalato oltre un milione di bottigliette d’acqua per l’emergenza idrica e poi iniziato una collaborazione con un’azienda che produce filtri per depurare l’acqua per cercare di evitare il rischio di intossicazioni.

Il suo attivismo contro le ingiustizie del razzismo ambientale l’ha portata a essere intervistata e avere le copertine di importanti riviste come Teen Vogue, The Guardian, Time, The Washington Post e tante altre ancora.

Ai Billboard Music Awards del 2022 ha ricevuto il terzo Change Maker Award in onore dei suoi sforzi di difesa dell’ambiente.

Invece di lamentarsi e restare a guardare e, nonostante la giovane età, è riuscita ad avere un impatto significativo sul dialogo sul razzismo ambientale e sensibilizzare l’intero paese sulla realtà affrontata dalle vittime della negligenza dello stato. Ha dato voce alle grandi difficoltà di tante persone in balia di infrastrutture al collasso. Una giovane portentosa che farà ancora tanto parlare di sé.

[strawglicks]

sometimes i just gotta write/draw them arguing it keeps me going

[ohello0]

Speaking of water crisis, Mari Copeny aka Little Miss Flint, has been fighting for clean water in Flint Michigan for nearly a full decade.

Mari Copeny has a water filter fund she started to combat the unsafe water in Flint as well as the plastic pollution bottled water creates. Five years ago when she was 12, Mari started trying to raise $1 million for her filters and still hasn’t met the goal but she’s close, $857,721 / $1,000,000!

To donate: GFM and PP

A small town of about 4,000 people in Eyl District on the coast of Somalia is going through an active water crisis. Everyone relies on a single well for access to water but that well has become contaminated with sea water making it completely unusable.

Humanitarian African Relief Organization, aka HARO is running multiple aid campaigns for Ramadan relief including a specific campaign for the Eyl Water Project.

Just $1.50 can donate 10 liters of water, $50 can get the village a whole tanker containing 200 liters

To donate directly click the link below and make sure to select the cause you want to support.

You can also find them on Instagram: @/harousa and TikTok: @/harosomalia1

[touchoffleece]

Lizzo being an icon yet again 👏

"I was on the fence on whether I should accept, because if I'm the people's champ, I don't need a trophy for championing people." "...To be an icon isn't about how long you've had your platform. Being an icon is what you do with that platform." -Lizzo 2022

Lizzo instead of giving a long speech about herself, brings out activists of diverse fields and shines the spotlight on them.

[hotvampireadjacent]

Racism is alive and well in America

This Juneteenth as we celebrate and reflect on the progress we've made and look to what we can do to improve equal rights for black folks I want to bring attention to an issue far too closet to my heart- environmental racism.

I had a friend who died, far too young. It's been many years so newer tumblr users won't know him. His name was james and he was a popular tumblr user when he was alive @kumagawa . I idolized him like an older brother, and still do. He lived in Flint, Michigan. He was around 27 when he died. He was a healthy man, other than the fact he lived with dirty water in Flint, Michigan.

I'll never fucking forgive the US government for killing my friend, my brother. Why did James die? Because Flint, Michigan is 56% Black. Because it would be expensive to fix the lead pipes that gave my friend lead poisoning and killed him.

As of April 24,2024 the city of Flint, Michigan still hasn't replaced all the lead pipes that are poisoning the people living there.

https://www.aclumich.org/en/press-releases/residents-still-waiting-city-flint-replace-all-lead-pipes-10-year-anniversary-water

If you can help, give money to Mari Copeny's go fund me.

Mari Copeny, better known as Little miss Flint, is now 16 years old and over the past few years has raised nearly a million dollars for her community.

She has a website to links for other ways to support the community

Please reblog this post if you can't give any money... It would mean the world to me if I could use my friend's memory to help promote environmental racism and the issues still facing his community today.

[shotmrmiller]

single dad simon not knowing how to be a dad. not his thing. doesn't get it. hand him a gun and he can take it apart and put it back together in his sleep. but a diaper? formula? baby food??? knows next to nothing.

so you see him, miserable old man with sunken dark eyes, hunched shoulders and a screaming baby at his doorstep with groceries in his hand and decide to help. (besides, you're also suffering with a lack of proper sleep)

he's not a good dad but he's a protective one. he's at your throat in an instant, baby in arm almost behind his back, ready to sink his teeth into your jugular. you squeak out that you're a part time babysitter. you can help. you've got the most experience with babies her age.

you keep your eyes on him, tired eyes now sharp as flint. it's scary how quickly he'd moved. footsteps barely a whisper. his breath chills your skin.

threatens you with your life if so much as a hair on her head is hurt. he must be really tired if he's willing to accept help being this defensive.

you take the chunky babe and bounce her as he opens the door to his flat. you don't dislike kids but you're not their biggest fan either. babysitting is just a means to an end. easy money that goes toward your tuition.

simon, you come to learn, doesn't care. he thinks you're the missing parent. he doesn't ask you if you can help watch over the child. simply knocks on your door and hands her to you with the diaper bag. mutters that he'll be back and with food.

he helps himself to your couch when you tell him that the baby is asleep. takes off his shoes and is snoring in seconds. simon also doesn't help the rumors going around the building. "a terrible parent, you are. how could you abandon your baby and husband? he's been struggling for months!"

simon leaves you sputtering when he tells them to stop talking about his missus like that or he'll kill them in their sleep. burp the baby, pet, or she'll keep us up all night.

at least he pays well :/

(if you go out for a friends night, which he will drop you off so stop talking about uber, he's telling you to go say goodbye to our baby who happens to be asleep in her crib and if you're wearing a short little number he's gonna watch you bend over to kiss her fat little cheek before he takes you to the bathroom to eat it from the back and is sending you to his car with trembling legs and a slap to your arse. don't look so tasty next time idk)

[pupkashi]

satoru loves yapping [to you]

satoru was always chatty, shoko could definitely attest to that statement, subjected to too many conversations she definitely did not care about.

“isn’t it hotter than usual? i swear last year it was colder around this time of year-” he began, continuing to talk as shoko tried to focus instead on healing an injured itadori in front of her.

it seemed that his chatty characteristic only amplified when you were around, his eyes would visibly brighten, practically gleaming when you appeared in his eyesight.

“sweetheart! how are you? staying cold in this heat?” you can help but smile at him, walking straight into his already outstretched arms and squeezing his waist a bit, pressing a soft peck to his cheek before pulling away.

“heat? it feels so good out today!” you sigh happily, waving yellow to shoko and itadori, “it is hotter than last year though I’ll tell you that,” satoru grins at your words, turning to shoko with a flint in his eyes before turning back to you.

“that’s what I said! global warming is getting too severe-” the two of you walking out hand in hand, the taller man still talking as you listened intently.

satoru never felt the need to be quiet around you, always finding things to talk about no matter the task or the hour.

“and so you would think that since they were doing so bad they would think of making changes right?” you nod along, humming so he knows you’re listening, “but no! they keep going with same stupid strategy and it’s so frustrating as a fan to see, i just want him to achieve his dreams,” he sighs sadly.

“can you pass the salt?” you ask, taking it from his much larger hand, thanking him before speaking up again, “why does he keep resigning if they always treat him so poorly?” you ask, satoru smiles, heart warming at the fact that you really do pay attention to him.

“he’s always wanted to win with Ferrari- let me take you back to the beginning” he begins, giving you a summary of charles leclerc’s life as you finish cooking dinner.

you could always tell when he got a bit insecure of how talkative he was, but you’d always smile at him, urging him to go on. “and then what? why’d you stop talking?” you’d say, making him smile widely before quietly starting again.

“I’m listening, angel boy,” you mumble in between dreams, listening to him talk about how orange juice isn’t the same as it was when he was growing up and how the new game he downloaded was more complicated than it seems.

it could be nearing 2 in the morning but you wouldn’t mind, satoru would be discussing how and why wombats have cube shaped poops and how koalas eat eucalyptus and pandas have half a brain cell they don’t bother to use.

“it has no real nutritional value and that’s why they have to eat so much of it,” he mumbles, eyes drooping as he cuddles closer to you.

“aren’t they made to digest meat?” you whisper, head tucked into the crook of his neck, your breath running a chill down his spine.

“think so, dunno” he mumbles back, breathing evening out before he’s fully asleep.

your eyes open slowly as you crane your neck, his pink lips slightly parted as he takes soft breaths, snowy hair pointing every which way.

you can’t help but smile at your lover.

“goodnight pretty boy” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, “my little yapper,” you chuckle to yourself, already looking forward to what he’d talk about tomorrow.

masterlist

a/n: hi friends ! just a quick little something i put together bc i miss satoru so bad lately </3 he’s def a yapper and i want to hear him talk all day and night

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @sat6ru @beautiful-is-boring @sweetheart-satoru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi

[ldrfanatic]

i miss you

theodore nott x reader

yeah this is gonna be angsty.

synopsis - a mini-series where reader and theo break up after a three year relationship and struggle without each other. eventual hea. this is more like excerpts and moments between the two of them than a full story. part two coming soon.

one

1.2k words

song - i miss you, i'm sorry by gracie abrahams

slytherin boys works

"i think we should break up."

you and theo spoke at the same time. both with tears in your eyes. after a three year relationship, neither of you really wanted it to end, both still harboring feelings for each other but after not speaking practically all summer, it seemed like the best option.

"i don't want to make things awkward with our friend group. but outside of group events, i think it's best we don't talk."

the boy in front of you nodded his head silently in agreeance. sobs wracked your body as theodore nott, your now ex-boyfriend pulled you into a strong hug. it felt like your heart was splitting in two. for the past three years, you'd known nothing but theo.

after an eternity, you both stepped apart and you shared a deep kiss. your last kiss. it was salty with the taste of both of your tears.

---

in the weeks that followed, you were the most miserable you'd ever been in your time at hogwarts. keeping your distance from the person who'd not only been your lover, but had become your best friend as well, was the most difficult thing you'd ever had to do.

everything reminded you of him. every path you took seemed to take you to theo. it was like the universe wanted you to suffer.

no less than four weeks after your breakup, word spread quick that marcus flint was planning on asking you out. before, no boy at hogwarts even dared to look in your direction in fear of what theo might do to them. but you supposed that didn't matter now.

you were eating breakfast next to luna. she was a little odd but she'd become an unlikely friend in the aftermath of theo. a dark brown owl that you recognized at the nott family owl dropped a note on the table in front of you. your name was scrawled across the front in handwriting you recognized.

luna placed an encouraging hand on your shoulder as you picked up the note with a shaking grasp. unfolding it, a message had been hastily scribbled.

"i miss you. i know you said that we're not talking, but can i see you? please?"

you looked up and met the intense stare of theo.

a single nod confirmed his request.

---

"how are you?"

you almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of the question. given your matching eye bags and teary eyes, neither of you were handling the split well.

"it's not hard to tell, nott. just ask me what you want to know."

theo kicked bitterly at the pebbles beneath his feet.

"i hear flint is planning on asking you to hogsmeade." he spit the words out like he couldn't believe someone was asking you out. the girl who wasn't his anymore.

"you don't have to worry, nott. i still love you. i promise."

"look, i'm not happy with this either, y/n. nothing happened in the way i wanted. but do you have to call me that? I hate it when you call me nott. like i haven't been the guy wiping your tears for three years."

you felt your eyes swelling. not even trying to stop the tears, you cocked your head sideways and pinned theo with a single heartbroken look.

"yes. i do. because i'm scared that if i call you theo, act like we're friends, smile at you and watch you smile at me, that i might never stop crying."

---

two months after your breakup with theo and you still hadn't stopped crying. you knew it would hurt. but this was inexplainable.

after your meeting in the astronomy tower, theo stopped showing up to meals. and classes. in fact, you hadn't seen him leave his dorm since. three weeks passed like a blur and before you knew it, snow was falling.

with christmas around the corner, you began handing out presents to your friends. one in particular sat in the corner of your room. the dark green wrapping paper had stood out noticeably from the silver snowflake wrapping paper you'd used on all the other gifts you'd given this holiday.

you stood across from mattheo, theo's roommate, and held out a folded piece of paper to the boy. mattheo took it, albeit confused.

"what's this?"

"for theo. just... give it to him. please."

mattheo nodded, gave you a quick hug and then scurried off in the direction of the boys' dorms.

---

"i got your note."

the deep voice of theodore nott startled you.

you placed a hand over your heart, having nearly jumped out of your skin. the sight that greeted you was nothing less than gut wrenching. the sweet hopeful boy you once dated was gone. in his place was the hollow shell that he'd been when you first met him, before you started dating.

he was thin and pale, noting to the fact that he'd barely eaten in the past few weeks. where you'd finally started to sleep a little easier at night, theo looked like he hadn't sleep in weeks. years even. if it hadn't been for the familiarity of the warmth of his gaze, you would've sworn this was not theo.

an involuntary gasp escaped you.

"theodore!"

you resisted the inherent urge to begin fussing over him. he watched you with a guarded stare. after a few beats of tense silence, you held the gift out to him.

he eyed it with apprehension.

"i bought it before..."

you didn't finish your sentence. you didn't have to. theo's head tilted back in realization and after a couple pensive breaths, he took the present.

he toyed with it in his hands for a few moments, as if deciding whether or not to open it. he seemed to have made a decision when he undid the white bow you'd carefully tied atop the small box.

inside was a silver chain. it was thick with a small delicate looking circle on the end.

"what is it?"

you chuckled slightly at his bluntness. he'd never been one to beat around the bush.

"it's a muggle thing, i think. my cousin was telling me about it. anyhow, you shine a light through it and, well," you spoke a soft lumos and shined your wand towards the circle. on the wall behind you, a picture appeared.

a young isabella nott was laughing with a young theo at a beach on a beautifully clear day. her smile was bright and contagious even through a picture. it was honestly the happiest you'd ever seen theo in your years of knowing him.

the moment theo saw the picture, he broke down. you really hadn't meant to make him cry.

"i'm sorry. i just wanted you to have it."

you knelt down next to him, and he immediately latched onto you.

"i can't- i can't do this without you. please."

this was the second time that theodore nott had begged you. the look in his eyes was all it took for your resolve to break.

"we fucked up bad, theo." you cooed softly to him as you rocked him through his sobs. "this breakup has tested... everything i thought i knew about myself. but i miss you. so we can talk about it."

---

7.8.2024

<taglist>

@moonlightreader649 @thatdammchickennugget @helendeath @fandom-life-12 @bouquetolegoflowers @maryvibess @nighttimemoonlover @blobsblobician

[softshuji]

You're starting to believe Shion doesn't have the capacity to be mad at you,

and it makes you a little angry when you've done something wrong, and he can only click his tongue and say 'I don't mind, I'll sort it out' and he's on his hands and knees picking up the shards of the broken glass now scattered over the kitchen floor.

He might nick his own palms with a wince, but he diligently grabs the broom and sweeps the flints up before you can comment on how you should have been doing it.

He turns up with a replacement the next day and it finds a home next to the others, as if it had never happened in the first place. And he never gets mad, never yells, never speaks negatively even if you deserve it, even if you're pushing his buttons and being irritating, he can only smile.

You crash your car, you lose your handbag, you set the smoke alarm off, you get into trouble constantly and he has nothing to say except, 'it's okay, it'll be fine' and you're torn between believing maybe that he doesn't have the capacity to get mad at all with you,

or maybe he doesn't care enough to do so. Anger is passion after all, isn't that what they all say?

You've taken to doing more reckless things just to get a reaction that isn't the softhearted and loving smile thrown towards you whenever you drop something and send the pieces flying and you hate yourself a little bit every time when you know he's being so kind, and you'd be devastated if he wasn't.

That's always the thing about him- and the rules are different for you.

He doesn't take you to gang meetings often and they call him 'mad dog' when you're not around and it baffles the others (ran and Rindou especially) that his girlfriend is a sweet, innocent, intuitive thing that dotes on him every day- enough for you to send him out with home cooked lunches that don't give him stomach aches. Though he'll never admit he gets them at all, he's never really been one to complain at anything.

If anything they're a little jealous. How can someone as 'unput together' as him bag a girl like that?

You would have a mind to tell them exactly how if you ever knew that conversation had happened- but he makes a point to keep 'all that gang shit' away from you anyway. He likes your little corner, the slice of domestic life that you offer him where he can perhaps be something else, where he gets to be the man in charge for once, where you don't mind that he is sometimes hard to put up with (his words, you'd never believe that). His dear girlfriend is a saving grace at the end of the day when he kicks off his shoes at the door and heaves a big sigh, scratching his hair as he slides off his jacket and misses the bannister when he throws it onto the wood cornering the stairway.

He is too good at the centre of it all. You don't and have never felt at all ashamed of being his girlfriend, or his girl, or anything,

and the snickers don't bother you when you know who he really is and what he really means. People have always chosen to see exactly what they want to, why would this be any different?

But you can't lie and say the guilt isn't eating you at all, when you provide so little to him in the way of his life. To him, he might not be the Haitani's but to you that's never mattered. You like the simplicity of him, and duplicitous feelings have never been your forte because he's always been so upfront about his feelings for you. He likes you, he loves you, he makes it known all the time and you wonder if you really do enough when he is so forgiving and you're under no illusions that maybe he isn't like the others, but it doesn't mean another woman won't want him if he left you. He's still part of the biggest gang in the country, and you know that counts for something.

It's making you a little sick when you think about it again- the concept of him not caring enough to be pissed off at you when you deserve it, of being so quick to defend you, even when you have done something wrong.

Like today, when you're deliberately being tetchy with him, sketchy and evasive and he's prodding in the gentle way of his to find the root of the issue, and it burns you a little inside when he trails after you- a puppy following an owner- with your discarded jacket in hand, clothes kicked off and left on the floor.

'You going to tell me what's wrong or not?' he says, bending to pick up your shirt as you round the corner to the bedroom. It makes his heart quake inside when he thinks about it. Are you not happy enough with him? Do you not love him? Is he doing something wrong? If so, how can he fix this?

'Mhmmm no, no nothing's wrong,' you say airily, as if nothing is and you miss how his eyebrows crunch towards your back as you slip off the rest of your clothes and pick up your discarded robe from the tower of them on the chair.

And you hate that you're being like this for no reason, or rather a reason you can't discern in any easy way when you know he doesn't deserve this, when he's been more than attentive to you over time. You're lucky in a way few others are. When you meet with friends and they talk on and on about husbands and boyfriends that it sounds like they don't love at all- all the issues, all the nagging that you can't relate to and you curse yourself for ruining what others would kill to have, albeit unintentionally.

'You're being funny.' He folds your clothes and leaves them on the chair, filling a glass of water for you as you both pass the kitchen.

'Funny how?'

'Weird, like you're upset.'

'You think so?'

You hate the evasive game. You hate even more that he can probably see through it so easily. He's always been like that. The other's call him airheaded, but he's never forgotten a thing about you.

'I know so. Can you tell me what's wrong?'

You turn, a look over your shoulder to him in the doorway, fiddling with his hands, a little lost, a little adrift, the worried and anxious tilt of his brows matched by the bite to his lower lip and it aches inside when you know you're the cause, when it hurts because of that fact. You love him, but where is that love meant to go when you have so much of it? When you wonder one day whether he's coming back, whether he's staying or dying in another man's battle, when you know his loss would tear something in you that you could never heal.

Your mouth forms the words before you have time to catch up with it, and it comes off seamlessly when you say 'I'm sorry,' and he frowns in that way he does, his brows pinching, the slight curl of his blond hair framing his cheeks, a strand or two falling over his tattoo away from the fray.

'Huh? What for?' he says, now shutting the door behind him, your glass of water and painkillers for the headaches you get left on the nightstand.

Clockwork.

You're a fish when you open your mouth, close it again and turn wordlessly towards the dresser to pick up a hairbrush, mumbling a "nothing, forget it," that has his ears pricking up, expecting him to take the bait and leave you to sulk on your own, the kicked puppy attitude that you hate you still show even now.

His hip brushes the dresser when he comes up to you now, pulls the hairbrush from your hand with a noise of indignation at the back of your throat, before tossing it onto the bed, your wrists now encircled in his bigger hands, his thumbs finding the dips over your knuckles seamlessly.

"no."

"no?"

"no, it's not nothing, and you can tell me." A beat. "I want you to tell me." 

And your cheeks burn with heat, a fiery ice that licks at your neck when his thumbs come to rest on the incline of your wrists, a knowing look in his eyes with an eyebrow raised. And you avoid his gaze for a moment, settling it on the dresser, on the corner where the paint is chipping and the wood is exposed and he lifts a hand to tilt your head, your chin between his thumb and forefinger, till you stubbornly turn back to him with a pout.

‘Sorry,’ you say, your lip pulled by your teeth, bitten down and reddened, an anxious bite that he presses down on your lip to stop, the edge of his thumb skimming the dip in your chin. 

‘You’re saying it again without telling me what it’s for,’ he says now, hands slipping down to your waist that he pulls till it’s flush with his own. ‘I wanna know what has my Dear girlfriend so sad.’

‘I just feel stupid y’know? I’ve been shitty to you recently, and you haven’t gotten mad at me once, and it makes me feel guilty when you don’t.’

He frowns, a crease to his brows that you resist the urge to smooth over with your fingers. ‘You want me to get mad at you?’

‘Yes! I- well no, but just- don’t you get mad at me?’

‘No, why would I?’

‘Why wouldn’t you? Don’t you love me?’

He shakes his head, incredulous, a stunned and pained expression flitting over the warm apples of his cheeks. ‘Of course I love you, but what does that have to do with anything?’ His grip tightens on your hips, a slow rock and thud against his own as he smooths circles into the slip of skin between your shirt and pants.

‘Well, people get angry at who they love sometimes, and you don’t, so that might mean…’

‘That I don’t love you? Is that what you’re saying?’ he says, the inflection at the end that betrays his hurt, the worried and hushed flash of pain glimmering in his eyes where the reflection of you avoids his gaze. You don’t speak again, opting to stare at the ground, your feet, the one spot on the carpet with the immovable stain that never lifts. 

The silence seems to stretch, a quiet so loud that your ears ring with it, yawning on till he breaks it with a ‘I’m not sure who told you that but they were an idiot.’

Your head snaps up, apprehension and unease creeping along your skin. ‘What do you mean?’

And he laughs somehow, his eyes creasing, the sharp edges of his teeth revealed with the curve of a smile, lowering his head till it rests against yours, the edge of his blond hair tickling your cheek. ‘You’re so silly sometimes y’know?’

‘Huh?’ you say stiffly, a warning bell ringing lightly against your ears, a little ashamed, a little pressured despite yourself, even though you're the one who started it, you're a deer in headlights at the soft easiness of him. Maybe it would be easier if he burned through you, if he bared his fangs and bit straight into you - in the way you know would take a long time to nurse. 

And he laughs harder somehow, a little giggle that provokes your own, a light and hesitant laugh that has you prickling with self consciousness. 'What are you laughing at? What's so funny?' 

'You! You are!' And he raises his hands around your shoulders, a light shake of them as his breath ghosts over your Cupid's now, warm, sweet and scented with the undertone of menthol. You catch the reflection of yourself in the vanity to the side- you're puffy, cheeks puffed out, eyes watery, not your best by any means, especially when you angle in the way that shows the scar on your shoulder - a horrifying sight really, and you lift your cami to hide it , as if you ever can, as if it still matters this many years later.

And he softens, that glimmer in his eyes, a faint click of his tongue before you're pulled- gently still, into the warmth of his chest, your cheek squished against the soft linen of his shirt now creased from the day, your hands somehow instinctively finding purchase on his back where the muscle slips and slides underneath his skin, all sinewy flesh that feels warm and alive under your hands. 

'Y'know…..' he starts, a rumble of his voice that ruminates against your earlobe, one hand coming up to rub at your back, the other still firmly on your hip pulled flush to his. 'Sometimes I do get angry at you, but it never means anything, never changes anything.'

Your voice is a whisper against his skin, your breath curling along the exposed flesh of his arm where your lips skim across now, faint freckles and marks now pressed to your mouth. 'You do?'

'Mhm, sometimes. When you do reckless things, when you don't take care of yourself, when you don't talk about what you like because you don't think you should.' 

A hot fiery ice thunders into your veins and your neck prickles with embarrassment. 'I do that?' 

'You do. It's like you don't think you ought to take up any space, like you feel bad for wanting things.' 

'Oh.' 

'But it doesn't mean I don't love you. You're my girlfriend aren't you? Just because I don't get mad at you doesn't mean I don't love you. It's because I love you that I don't get mad.'

'But other people say-'

He pulls you back, his lips ghosting over your forehead, hands coming to cup at your cheeks, tenderly, the knuckle dusters and rings left forgotten on the bedside table. 'I don't care what people say. Loving you will never make me angry, or mad, or anything like that and whoever told you that was a loser.' 

'But…..' 

'No buts. It's either love you as you are, or lose you all together.' He shrugs, the glint of eyes now pearly and glimmering with a soft rosy shine. 'It seems like an easy choice to make.' 

You look away, a lick of heat making a slow crawl along your neck. 'Oh.' And you move from foot to foot self consciously, a hand coming up to scratch at your neck. You wonder in times like this, whether it bothers him to constantly give you this reassurance that comes so easily and often, when you doubt him and it has you shameful, and you find that he never relents in neverending love. 

Why would he? You're his dear girlfriend and that's the way he likes it.

Happy bday to my darlin' ❤️

Reblogs appreciated!

[kaylapocalypse]

NOVA

I met a boy in a field.

His clothes were strange— but not too strange—and some of his words were unfamiliar—but not too unfamiliar.

He had been standing in the grass and looking up at the stars. He clutched something shining and bright in his hand.

When he heard me coming over, he turned and grinned.

“Wanna see something great?” He said “Come back here in fifty years and stand right in this spot. A sun will die and this is the best seat in the house.”

His teeth were made of metal and his eyes were hard like flint.

“This is the best century, really. We read about them all, you know. You’ve still got all the good stuff…”

He breathed in the air and let it out with a satisfied whoosh. As if he hadn’t had the opportunity to do such a thing in a long while.

“Why do you look so glum? Come on, sit with me in the sun.”

He crossed his legs and settled down in a patch of heather.

“The sun isn’t out. It’s night.” I said. “And who are you? This is private property.”

The boy laughed.

“The sun is always out. The sun bathes the earth in rays at all hours. God, you’re so young! The schools were so bad back in the day, wow.”

“I’m literally going to call the police. You seem like a nice kid, but you’ve got to go.”

He snorted and rolled a flower between his fingers.

“Whatever lady. You’ll miss me. And it’s not like I’m going anywhere permanent style. Because this is—you know what. I’m not going to tell you what’s going to happen. You’ll deserve it. Ugh.”

He shook the blindingly bright thing he had in his hand and vanished.

—

The next time I saw him I was 32.

It had been ten years, but there he stood. In the middle of the field. Wearing the same threadbare sweater and trousers I’d met him in.

“Gosh it took you a long time.” He said.

“Who are you? What the fuck. Are you wearing metal dentures?”

The boy looked exceptionally offended.

“Metal dentures? Oh that’s rich. Coming from someone with unprotected decaying bone in their mouth. Thank god I haven’t gotten hurt out here. What would you have tried to do? Cure a broken arm with bloodletting or burned a witch? I should have brought my own first aid kit just in case I have to deal with these primitive medical practices.”

That was a tirade I didn’t expect…

“What time are you from?” I asked.

He rolled his eyes.

“I’m not even going to bother with that.” He said. “Come closer, let me see you. You aged finkin’ well.”

I edged closer to him, but not close enough to let him touch me.

“it’s been like an entire decade.” I said suspiciously.

“I see they at least taught you basic math.” He snorted.

The closer I got the more differences I noticed about him. He looked like he was about the same age, but his clothes were a little thinner, a little more ragged. He had circles beneath his eyes and his skin had a grayish tinge.

“Are you okay?”

He looked at me like I was insane.

“Of course I’m not okay. Clearly, we’re from different times. Clearly I’m from the future. If you were from the future, would you go back to the dark ages to wallow with your ancestors in the mud for fun? I can’t talk to you about this. It’s not like you can do anything about it. Just sit down and look at the goddamn sky with me. This is supposed to be romantic.”

I plopped down beside him and looked up at the stars. I knew I had groceries getting warm in the car, but I figured I could afford to spend at least five minutes with an ageless time wanderer —even if he was rude as hell.

“Okay, you see that dark area over there?” He pointed at the sky. I nodded.

“That’s the way out of this mess.”

“What mess?”

“Everything. All of the problems you have here. I think. I’m really bad at explaining this sort of stuff. I’m not like, the best at politics science or physics. That was more my dad’s thing. I was really only ever into sports.”

“What sport did you play?”

“Upjacket. It’s like a mixture of your baseball and your hockey. But the stakes are higher. You play in antigrav and the first person to score a point wins. It’s like… you start off in teams, but individuals win games, and the more individuals win on each team, the more money the team gets. It was fun. Back when they let us play sports.”

He grinned and looked up at the sky.

“I was gonna go pro. It’s all about agility.”

Suddenly the bright thing in his pocket started rattling wildly.

“Oh shit oh shit. Sorry. I’ve got to go. See you in te—”

He disappeared.

—

I took a train from New York all the way back to Michigan, then a bus out into the country.

The field was empty when I arrived. I sat down in the patch of heather and looked up into the sky.

My heels dug into the soft earth. I was 42.

After about 15 minutes he blinked into view with a hiss and a flash of smoke. The boy immediately bent over and vomited. He fell to his knees and gasped for a while, then spit hard to clear his mouth.

He was thinner than when I saw him last. And his sweater had some holes.

I took off my jacket and handed it to him.

He nodded in thanks and draped it around his shoulders.

“What is your name?” I asked gently.

“It doesn’t matter.” He said. “Nobody cares. Nobody’s cares who I am or why I’m here.”

“I care.” I said. “I have a son not much older than you back home. He just left for college. If you want you can come back with me and—”

“I can’t.” He shouted angrily.

His eyes burned dark and hot. He was sweating a bit, and his hands shook as they grappled the edges of my coat. Pulling it tight.

“I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have touched it. I should have left well enough alone.”

He wasn’t talking to me anymore, he was muttering and looking at the ground.

I shifted over so that we were closer together. I fished a pack of gum out of my purse and offered him a piece.

“What is this?” He looked scared.

“It’s gum. It’s a kind of candy. You just chew it and don’t swallow. It’s okay. It’s… Sweet?” I tried.

He unwrapped it and put it in his mouth.

“Gosh that is the weirdest… It’s like… My mouth was all dry before and I’m not thirsty anymore. But it’s just this strange rubbery…That is so…. I mean, thank you. I really appreciate it.”

He smiled. It was like he hadn’t done it in a while. The corners of his mouth looked like they weren’t sure whether to go up or down.

“I hope this isn’t too forward.” I started. "But do you want a hug?”

He blushed and pushed his hair out of his eyes.

“Of all the tarts in the world, I found a nice sentimental one with candy in her pockets and a wish to take me away.” He laughed. “You can have all the hugs with me you like. It’s not like there’s anyone else around to hug.”

He fit neatly in my arms. He was stronger than I’d expected. More wiry. He smelled like ash, metal and the salt of unwashed skin.

“Do you want to know a secret?” He whispered into the shell of my ear.

“We never did get flying cars or hoverboards. It’s not a lack of technology. It’s got something to do with magnetism. You can’t break the rules of the universe— just bend them. And hover boards? Them’s a rule breakin’ invention.”

I laughed. I laughed and laughed and laughed.

“You’re such a marvel.” I said when I was finished.

He grinned back at me. Brilliant and true. The moonlight shining off his stainless-steel smile.

“I could have been much more.” He said cockily.

“Are you sure you can’t stay?” I asked. “We have a spare room at my house up in New York…”

“No. Darling. You’re old as dirt, but I’m partial to you. I wouldn’t want to break your husband’s heart.” He winked.

I scowled. “Why are you so rude? And how old are you really?”

“You ask the worst questions.” He replied and disappeared.

—

I moved back to Michigan alone and went to the field every night for twenty years. Until my hair turned gray and the hike over wore on my knees.

I kept the grass green and tended the heather.

Like always, the boy arrived with a hiss.

He lay still in the grass.

He was thin and filthy and barely breathing.

I turned him over and pulled him into my arms.

The boy sobbed.

“I couldn’t… I couldn’t… I tried so hard.”

“It’s okay.” I said.

“It’s not. It feels like it’s been days, but it’s probably been years. I just keep spinning round and round and my own window is out of reach. Yours is the closest so I keep landing here on this stupid rock in the middle of the millennium. I just want to go home.” He curled himself up until he was very small.

The bright thing glowed through the pocket of his tattered trousers.

“What does it do?” I asked.

“I don’t know how it works. It’s either broken or half made. It was sitting on my dad’s desk. I just picked it up and shook it.  It pushes me through time back and forth dropping me in different times. It never stops.  I can urge it one way or another, but I can’t drive it or force it anywhere once I make it work. I’ve been trying to get home for weeks.  I just want to go home. I just want to go home. I just want to go home.”

He repeated it over and over until he fell asleep.

I rubbed his back in circles and stared up at the stars until the sun came up from behind the fir trees.

 When I reached down to wake him up, I realized that he would never wake up again.

There was nothing to eat in the void of time, but star dust. Nothing to breathe but radiation.

I buried him in the heather.

—

Ten years later I went back into the field.

Fifty years had passed.

I looked up into the sky.

After a few hours of darkness, light shot out from the black spot the boy had pointed to so many years ago. The noise shattered the sound barrier and solar winds swept the planet. The night sky bled with reds and blues and purples and white. And it was so bright.

[reasonsforhope]

Flint, Michigan, has one of the [United States]'s highest rates of child poverty — something that got a lot of attention during the city's lead water crisis a decade ago. And a pediatrician who helped expose that lead problem has now launched a first-of-its-kind move to tackle poverty: giving every new mother $7,500 in cash aid over a year.

A baby's first year is crucial for development. It's also a time of peak poverty.

Flint's new cash transfer program, Rx Kids, starts during pregnancy. The first payment is $1,500 to encourage prenatal care. After delivery, mothers will get $500 a month over the baby's first year.

"What happens in that first year of life can really portend your entire life course trajectory. Your brain literally doubles in size in the first 12 months," says Hanna-Attisha, who's also a public health professor at Michigan State University.

A baby's birth is also a peak time for poverty. Being pregnant can force women to cut back hours or even lose a job. Then comes the double whammy cost of child care.

Research has found that stress from childhood poverty can harm a person's physical and mental health, brain development and performance in school. Infants and toddlers are more likely than older children to be put into foster care, for reasons that advocates say conflate neglect with poverty.

In Flint, where the child poverty rate is more than 50%, Hanna-Attisha says new moms are in a bind. "We just had a baby miss their 4-day-old appointment because mom had to go back to work at four days," she says...

Benefits of Cash Aid

Studies have found such payments reduce financial hardship and food insecurity and improve mental and physical health for both mothers and children.

The U.S. got a short-lived taste of that in 2021. Congress temporarily expanded the child tax credit, boosting payments and also sending them to the poorest families who had been excluded because they didn't make enough to qualify for the credit. Research found that families mostly spent the money on basic needs. The bigger tax credit improved families' finances and briefly cut the country's child poverty rate nearly in half.

"We saw food hardship dropped to the lowest level ever," Shaefer says. "And we saw credit scores actually go to the highest that they'd ever been in at the end of 2021."

Critics worried that the expanded credit would lead people to work less, but there was little evidence of that. Some said they used the extra money for child care so they could go to work.

As cash assistance in Flint ramps up, Shaefer will be tracking not just its impact on financial well-being, but how it affects the roughly 1,200 babies born in the city each year.

"We're going to see if expectant moms route into prenatal care earlier," he says. "Are they able to go more? And then we'll be able to look at birth outcomes," including birth weight and neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) admissions.

Since the pandemic, dozens of cash aid pilots have popped up across the nation. But unlike them, Rx Kids is not limited to lower-income households. It's universal, which means every new mom will get the same amount of money. "You pit people against each other when you draw that line in the sand and say, 'You don't need this, and you do,' " Shaefer says. It can also stigmatize families who get the aid, he says, as happened with traditional welfare...

So far, there's more than $43 million to keep the program going for three years. Funders include foundations, health insurance companies and the state of Michigan, which allocated a small part of its federal cash aid, known as Temporary Assistance for Needy Families.

Money can buy more time for bonding with a baby

Alana Turner can't believe her luck with Flint's new cash benefits. "I was just shocked because of the timing of it all," she says.

Turner is due soon with her second child, a girl. She lives with her aunt and her 4-year-old son, Ace. After he was born, her car broke down and she was seriously cash-strapped, negotiating over bill payments. This time, she hopes she won't have to choose between basic needs.

"Like, I shouldn't have to think about choosing between are the lights going to be on or am I going to make sure the car brakes are good," she says...

But since she'll be getting an unexpected $7,500 over the next year, Turner has a new goal. With her first child, she was back on the job in less than six weeks. Now, she hopes she'll be able to slow down and spend more time with her daughter.

"I don't want to sacrifice the time with my newborn like I had to for my son, if I don't have to," she says."

-via NPR, March 12, 2024

[cherryredstars]

Hi cherry,

Can i request you a nsfw story of a feme reader x dom Miguel who meet on live cam site like omegle or another. He take pleasure to gives her orders and makes her his doll.

1K Prompts

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Online Sex, JOI, Male Masturbation, Instructed Aftercare

Summary: His favorite little show.

Word Count: 1.8K (Not Edited)

You’re fucking gorgeous. 

Miguel leans forward, brightening his screen. You look a little winded, hair slightly frizzy from your live stream. Your cheeks are still flushed from your orgasm, and your voice has an airy flint to it like you haven’t completely caught your breath. Your lashes flutter through the screen, a beautiful smile on your face as you greet him. It makes his cock pulse and leak.

He’s seen you during your lives, but nothing compares to the sight of you up close. Only for him. Just for him. You’re his, even if it's just for an hour. He needs less than that to make you cum, but that doesn’t mean he won’t take advantage of every second. 

“Spin around for me, muñeca. Wanna see all of you.”

You giggle, the noise sounds slightly plastic, and Miguel grits his teeth. Your noises always sound so pretty, but he wants to hear the real thing. He wants to be the reason you make those sweet little noises. You stand up, giving him the cutest twirl. You put your panties back on, the damp spot in them almost dry. They’re a bright red and lacy, the same red as his suit. It’s like you wore them for him. 

They look a little small, your ass threatening to spill out of them. The same goes for your bra. It’s practically see through, your nipples poking out through the material. They push your tits together, offering themselves to him. It makes his mouth water, and his eyes stay focused on your body. You seem so small, so easy to move around to his liking. Your skin would be so soft under his sandpaper hands. Limbs so pliable that he could manhandle them into any position, forcing you to take him in any way he pleases. His little doll to play with. 

You sit back down after your little show, waiting for Miguel’s next orders. He hums as he thinks, his mind going fifty miles per hour as it fills with everything he could make you do. He smiles lazily at you, his hand falling to the bulge in his pants as he squeezes it. 

“Lean back on your elbows for me and take those pretty panties off.”

You do what he says slowly, teasing him. He bites his lip as you lean back, your fingers hooking into your panties. They slide down your legs like water, dropping them to the side when they are off. Your eyes flutter at the camera in fake innocence, a small smile on your face as you spread your legs. Miguel groans as he looks, your pussy lips sticky and glistening. You whimper as he continues looking, trying to get his attention back onto your face so he can give you your next commands. Miguel ignored them though, his palm rubbing circles over his bulge. 

“So wet. Is all of that for me?” He mumbles and you’re quick to nod, muttering out a quick yes. It makes Miguel chuckle. So quick to please. So eager to please him. 

“So generous, baby. Touch yourself for me, yeah? Touch that tiny little clit, you can do that for me, right?”

You don’t respond, instead moving your hand downwards. It ghosts over your stomach, sliding down your skin until it gets to where you need it the most. Miguel leans close to the screen, not wanting to miss a single moment. His hands slip into his boxers, his breath hitching as you circle your clit. You moan, eyes looking at him. Your brows furrow and a pout graces your lips. It makes your lips look plush, and Miguel wants to break through the screen and nibble on them. But he can tell you’re displeased with something.

“What is it, doll?” He mutters. Your fingers falter momentarily at the pet name, but they continue their pace in no time. 

“Want to see you, too. It’s not fair.”

Your voice is whiny, and Miguel laughs lowly. Fucking brat. He reangles the camera for you, and you sigh happily at the sight of his bulge. His hand is still in his underwear, and there is a damp spot where his leaky head presses against the fabric. Your fingers move faster, tight circles dragging against your clit. Your hips twitch, bucking into your hand. Miguel pulls his cock out his boxers, and you moan.

His cock is huge, pulsing and crying precum. Your hand moves down from your clit, teasing your entrance. You imagine it to be his tip, and you whimper. Miguel squeezes his tip, but his face hardens as he watches. 

He tsks in disapproval, a sound that has you freezing, “Nobody told you to stop touching your clit. Fix it.”

You whine softly, huffing out as you move back to play with your clit. Your fingers are shiny and slick from your arousal, quiet wet noises come from your movements. Miguel strokes his dick, sighing as he sinks into his seat. His legs spread out more as he relaxes, and your eyes track him with a moan. Your thighs begin to shake and you lean back into the bed. You’re lying flat on the bed as you shake and play with yourself, on the edge of an orgasm. 

Miguel clicks his tongue to catch your attention as he shakes his head. “Sit back up. Take your hand away.”

You’re slow to do it, reluctance drowning your body with you so close to finishing. Your hand slips away, and you lean back up on shaky elbows. You look unhappy, cheeks puffed and flushed. It makes Miguel smile, and he lets you watch as he continues to stroke himself. You whine as you watch him, closing your thighs and rubbing your legs together to get some friction. Miguel lets you, liking how desperate you look. 

“Turn on your stomach, ass up.” You rush to do so, swinging your hair to the side. You shake your hips as you readjust, giggling when Miguel groans. It sounds more genuine, all of your sounds so far do, and Miguel smiles to himself in victory. 

You spread your legs shoulder width apart, giving him a pretty view of your pussy. Miguel squeezes the base of his cock before he strokes himself again, “Stick two of your pretty fingers into that pretty pussy. Know you need it.”

You whine out a thank you as your hand comes to your entrance. You collect more arousal on your fingers before you slip them into you. They hit deep from your position, and you gasp as they sink into your heat. You curl your fingers into your gummy walls, pressing just under your g-spot. You whimper in displeasure, squirming on your fingers to try to reach it. Miguel coos at you, whispering dirty things about how easily he could reach that spot for you. How a singular finger of his could equate to two of yours. You moan out, repeating ‘please’ as you work yourself onto your fingers. 

Miguel grunts, his jaw tight as he feels his orgasm approaching. The sound is drowned out by your loud moans, fingers pumping inside you desperately as your own orgasm builds up again. You keep leaning back into your hand, fucking yourself with it. Miguel moves his hand to the same pace. His groans mix with your cries, and your back arches,

“You going to come, muñeca? Go ahead, make a mess on those pretty fingers for me.”

You nod into the sheets, muffled babbling leaving your mouth. Your body shivers, pressing yourself more into the bed as you finish. You cry out, fingers still pumping desperately to help you through your orgasm. Loud squelches leave your pussy, fingers covered in white cum as your orgasm dies down. Your body shakes slightly from aftershock, and you turn your head around just in time to watch Miguel finish. He gives himself desperate strokes before he stills. His whole body tenses, muscles rippling as he grunts. 

White streams of cum shoot from his tip, staining his lower stomach. It drips down to the band of his briefs, darkening the fabric. His chest rises and falls, eyes still blown wide with lust as he groans. You whimper as you watch, and Miguel chuckles at you. His eyes drift to the bottom of his screen, he still has twenty-five minutes left with you. His eyes look back to you, finding you in the same position still. 

“Such a good girl. Lay on your back again for me, yeah?”

Your movements are sluggish as you obey, turning back to your original position. Your folds are slippery with cum and left over arousal, and Miguel bites his lip to prevent any more noises. He squeezes the head of his softening cock, before tucking himself back into his underwear. You pout as his cock disappears, but you don’t protest. 

“You got a towel anywhere, hermosa? Anything you can clean yourself up with?”

You look shocked, looking around your room until you find the towel you keep to the side after your streams. You bring it into the camera’s view and Miguel smiles. “Good girl, clean yourself up. Nice and gentle now, don’t irritate that pretty little pussy.”

You’re shy for the first time on camera, cheeks glowing in embarrassment as you gently drag the towel over your folds. You flinch when you accidentally brush over your clit too hard, and Miguel tsks. When you finish cleaning yourself, you pull the towel away to show Miguel. He hums in approval, nodding to himself. He’s cleaned himself up too, the cum on his body gone. The only proof of its existence is of the dark spot still soaking the band of his briefs. 

“You got water, too? Think you can go drink some for me?” 

You nod shyly, reaching out of screen again and grabbing a water bottle. Miguel smiles at the silly sticker stuck to it, watching as you drink from it. Miguel coos at you, praising you and taking care of you from the other side of the screen. It’s gentle and it’s kind and it’s new. It has you craving more of his attention. But then, the hour is up. The timer at the end of the screen flashes, signaling the end. You frown at it, but you can’t extend the session without losing money. 

Miguel lets out a heavy huff in displeasure, and it’s the only thing that you find joy in. At least you know he’s going to miss you just as much. You come closer to the screen, finding your panties again and pulling them on. Right before you switch calls, you smile brightly at him. 

“Thank you, Miguel.”

Miguel hums, smiling back as he nods. 

“You’re welcome, doll.”

You give him a shy wave before the call ends, his screen taking him back to your past live streams. 

Miguel’s smile drops and he’s aching for the next time you go live.

Somewhat inspired by this audio by Badjhur.