#OSU campus

[buggybee48]

OSU football culture is crazy

[reasonsforhope]

"Growing up, Mackenzee Thompson always wanted a deeper connection with her tribe and culture.

The 26-year-old member of the Choctaw Nation said she grew up outside of her tribe’s reservation and wasn’t sure what her place within the Indigenous community would be.

Through a first-of-its-kind program, Thompson said she’s now figured out how she can best serve her people — as a doctor.

Thompson is graduating as part of the inaugural class from Oklahoma State University’s College of Osteopathic Medicine at the Cherokee Nation. It’s the first physician training program on a Native American reservation and in affiliation with a tribal government, according to school and tribal officials.

“I couldn’t even have dreamed this up,” she said. “To be able to serve my people and learn more about my culture is so exciting. I have learned so much already.”

Thompson is one of nine Native graduates, who make up more than 20 percent of the class of 46 students, said Dr. Natasha Bray, the school’s dean. There are an additional 15 Native students graduating from the school’s Tulsa campus.

The OSU-COM graduates include students from 14 different tribes, including Cherokee, Choctaw, Muscogee, Seminole, Chickasaw, Alaska Native, Caddo, and Osage.

Bray said OSU partnered with the Cherokee Nation to open the school in 2020 to help erase the shortage of Indigenous doctors nationwide. There are about 841,000 active physicians practicing in the United States. Of those, nearly 2,500 — or 0.3 percent — are Native American, according to the Association of American Medical Colleges.

When American Indian and Alaska Native people visit Indian Health Service clinics, there aren’t enough doctors or nurses to provide “quality and timely health care,” according to a 2018 report from the Government Accountability Office. On average, a quarter of IHS provider positions — from physicians to nurses and other care positions –are vacant.

“These students here are going to make a generational impact,” Cherokee Nation Principal Chief Chuck Hoskin Jr. told the students days before graduation. “There is such a need in this state and in this region for physicians and this school was created out of a concern about the pipeline of doctors into our health system.”

The Cherokee Nation spent $40 million to build the college in its capital of Tahlequah. The walls of the campus feature artifacts of Cherokee culture as well as paintings to remember important figures from Cherokee history. An oath of commitment on the wall is written in both English and Cherokee.

The physician training program was launched in the first year of the pandemic.

Bray said OSU and Cherokee leadership felt it was important to have the school in the heart of the Cherokee Nation, home to more than 141,000 people, because students would be able to get experience treating Indigenous patients. In Tahlequah, students live and study in a small town about an hour east of Tulsa with a population of less than 24,000 people.

“While many students learn about the problems facing these rural communities,” Bray said. “Our students are getting to see them firsthand and learn from those experiences.”

While students from the college are free to choose where to complete their residency after graduation, an emphasis is placed on serving rural and Indigenous areas of the country.

There’s also a severe lack of physicians in rural America, a shortage that existed before the COVID-19 pandemic. The Association of American Medical Colleges has projected that rural counties could see a shortage between 37,800 and 124,000 physicians by 2034. An additional 180,000 doctors would be needed in rural counties and other underserved populations to make up the difference.

Bray said OSU saw an opportunity to not only help correct the underrepresentation of Native physicians but also fill a workforce need to help serve and improve health care outcomes in rural populations.

“We knew we’d need to identify students who had a desire to serve these communities and also stay in these communities,” she said.

Osteopathic doctors, or DOs, have the same qualifications and training as allopathic doctors, or MDs, but the two types of doctors attend different schools. While MDs learn from traditional programs, DOs take on additional training at osteopathic schools that focus on holistic medicine, like how to reduce patient discomfort by physically manipulating muscles and bones. DOs are more likely to work in primary care and rural areas to help combat the health care shortages in those areas.

As part of the curriculum, the school invited Native elders and healers to help teach students about Indigenous science and practices...

Thompson said she was able to bring those experiences into her appointments. Instead of asking only standard doctor questions, she’s been getting curious and asking about her patient’s diets, and if they are taking any natural remedies.

“It’s our mission to be as culturally competent as we can,” she said. “Learning this is making me not only a better doctor but helping patients trust me more.”

-via PBS NewsHour, May 23, 2024

[star2fishmeg]

why do people never talk about any of the hughes falling for a girl who attends OSU. The hughes family is obsessed with Michigan so obviously we all need the angst of falling for a buckeye girl

I heard the two schools have a rivalry (don't come for me, I'm not American😭) but I don't know too much about that but I assume that's why, and bc reader attending UMich with Luke means they can like see each other more? And easier?

Nonnie I see what you're cookin' here tho, the drama, the angst, the forbidden romance, the spice! Do NOT inspire me to do another blurb series, I've got so much content to write as it is (don't stop I love people's thoughts and ideas)!

Sneaking around with a Hughes boy, hiding in bars, dates far from either campus, intense eye contact, secret hookups in bathrooms at games, summers spent visiting, sneaking them into your place and vice versa, sneaking them out, hiding left clothes left behind. All one big secret until graduation.

[avalil18]

(Series) Only The Young

Summary: you and Joe meet at OSU and start to get to know each other

Pairing: Joe burrow x reader

———————

September 10 2017

Y/n POV

It was a cool September day at OSU. The sun was shining but a crisp in the air flowed. I was heading out the door to go to my English class. I was wearing jeans, a white long sleeve Flowy top, and boots. My backpack was as heavy as a boulder and was making my back ache. Once I got to my English class I sat down on one of the auditorium seats and pulled out the moving table from my arm chair to put my notebook and pen on. After a few minutes more people started to come I wasn’t really paying attention to any one of them until someone caught my eye. It was one of the quarterbacks from the football team. He recently joined the class. I’ve seen him walk around before and I’ve seen him play. He is really good at football but I don’t understand why he is a backup. He should be QB1 from the way I seen him play. He sat down in the row below me. He fisted bumped someone who was probably one of his friends and pulled out his stuff from his bag. He was so cute. But I have to focus. The class was long but all I could think about was him. He was right there the whole time just being perfect. As the bell rang it startled me but I got up and put my book in my hands and swung my backpack on my shoulder. As I was getting out of the row to head out someone bumped into me. It was him! My books fell out of my hand and he went to pick it up.

“Oh my god! I am so sorry”-joe

“Are you ok?”- joe said as he handed me my books back

I smiled

“Yeah! I’m ok. Sorry that was my fault I wasn’t looking.”-you

“Haha! Don’t worry about it I wasn’t looking either.”-joe

“I’m Joe by the way, Joe burrow!”-joe

He puts his hands on the straps of his backpack clearly not knowing if he should shake my hand

“I’m y/n!”- you

“Well y/n it was nice meeting you,and so sorry for bumping into you.”-joe

“Don’t worry about it! And it was nice meeting you to Joe burrow.” -You say with a smile

Joe smiles big trying not to blush but I could definitely see it.

We both walked out and onto the main campus. He wasn’t a little bit behind me but I could feel eyes on me as I walked and knew it was him which gave me butterflies.

“Wait y/n,wait up!”-joe

I turned around to see his beautiful blue eyes and wide smile.

“Do you by any chance have the notes from last class? I missed them because I was at an away game.”-joe

I smiled

“Yeah! I was actually about to go to the library to finish them though. You can join if you want!” - you

Um! What was I thinking! Inviting the QB to take notes with me!

“Yeah actually! I would like that!”-joe

“Great! This way!”-you

Joe started walking with me and my heart was pounding. After a few minutes Joe spoke up.

“So, tell me about yourself!”-joe

“Haha! Well since you want to know so badly. I am from Northgate,Ohio which is right out of Cincinnati. I have an older sister and a twin brother! And I love dogs and the beach!”-you

“Oh!I’m from Ohio too! I have two older brothers!”-joe

“Really! Where in Ohio?”-you

“Athens!”- joe

“Oh I’ve been of Athens! My friends and I used to go there sometimes during the summer because there is this old house on the lake and where we used to hang out!”- you

“Yeah! The famous lake house! I go there all the time!”-joe

“Haha that’s so funny! People in Athens are so sweet that’s one of the reasons I’ve always loved going.”-you

“Yeah,they are really nice!”-joe

Joe and I got to work on our notes but we couldn’t stop talking and laughing.

“So you really only seen Star Wars once?”-joe

“Yes!”-you

“Damm y/n I really got to go take you to go see it. You have to watch it!”-joe

I looked at him in shock. Did Joe just ask me out?

“Let me take you out Saturday night! We can go to the theater right around the corner.”- joe

“Are you asking me out on a date, burrow?”-you

“Maybe…”-joe

“Well then it’s a date!”-you

“It’s a date! Here give me your phone number.”-joe

I handed him my phone. My heart is racing. I can’t believe I’m going on a date with Joe!

“Here! I will text you.”-joe says handing back your phone.

“Ok! See ya! Got to get to physics which sucks!”-you

Joe looks back at you in shock.

“You hate physics? I love it!”-joe

“What!! I can’t stand it! I don’t understand what Professor Burn talks about. Well I just don’t understand it in general.”-you

“How about I help you! You can help me in English and I will return the favor by helping you with physics!”-joe

“Ok! I got to go but text me!”-you

“Ok! Bye y/n!”-joe

“Bye Joe!”-you

I walked away with a smile on my face.

————————-

Joes POV

I got into English class and there she was y/n. She was beautiful. Brunette hair, blue eyes, and an amazing smile. She’s very sweet and calm. She has a funny laugh that makes me get butterflies. She sits right behind me. I always find myself looking at her for to long whenever she gets called on.

As I was walking out I wasn’t looking where I was going and bumped into her.

“Oh my god! I am so sorry!”-joe

I bent down to get her notebook and English book. As I gave it to her she smiled which made me get all giddy inside. I introduced myself and she did the same. We both walked out and I didn’t want to stop talking to her so I decided to say I didn’t do my notes and if she could let me borrow her notes. I actually did do them. All of it. I ran up to her and I asked. I then found myself sitting in the library with y/n taking notes. I found myself staring at her beauty. She was perfect. I knew I needed to ask her out. She got me. And not a lot of people really click with me like she did. She was different. A good different. So I asked if she wanted to watch Star Wars with me at the theatre even though i watched it millions of times. And she said yes! I gave her my phone number and turns out she needed help with physics which is my specialty. My plan is to take her out Saturday then maybe if she feels comfortable to come back to my place to study. Not to do anything else. I’m not that kind of person to rush into things like that and I know people are different when it comes to those kinda getting together things and I respect it. I was kinda sad when she left to go to class. I just wanted to keep talking to her forever. But now I have to plan the perfect night for Saturday.

——————-

Authors note:Ahhhhh first one of the series! Yay! I hope you guys like it! This is apart of How you get the girl🩷✌️

[atinylittlepain]

Chapter One

90s!steve harrington x f!oc

series masterlist

series playlist

He got out, hopped one state over, and planned on continuing an anonymous existence of cold beds and numbers scribbled on forearms. One small problem in that plan, or maybe one big problem.

warnings | 18+ smut, angst, columbus OH deserves a TW in and of itself (i love it so)

a/n | I am so excited to be sharing the first chapter of this series. A very special thanks must be given to @pr0ximamidnight who lets me scream about these characters all the time, and who also made the absolutely amazing artwork for this fic! As always, I'd love to hear what you think of this one, drop me a line :)

......................................

“You coming tonight?”

“Who’s playing?”

“Up and coming, you haven’t heard of them.” 

“Oh, so they’re shit then?” 

“Don’t be a snob, Steven. Even your beloved Elliott Smith started out as a nobody. Hell, he still is a nobody.”

“You told Art that I’d cover the front tonight, didn’t you?” The silence is enough of an answer. Steve sighs.

“Eddie.” 

“Come on, Steve. Money is money, I don’t see why you’re complaining when I was gracious enough to get you a little more of it.” His so very gracious roommate is already halfway out the door, a grin and shrug that tells Steve there will be no squirming out of this. Great. 

It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy a trip to the Newport Club, especially not when it’s free and all he has to do is check tickets and let girls feel him up a little on the way into the music hall. But it’s  Wednesday, and he has work tomorrow, and he’s feeling a little more pitiful than usual since their AC unit busted out and has yet to be fixed. Their landlord told them he would be getting to it about two weeks ago, and Steve is starting to wilt around the edges in the close grip of the heat and humidity. So no, he’s not really feeling a gig at the moment. But yes, money is money, and he doesn’t have much time to whine to himself about it when he’s already running late to his shift at Katzinger’s. 

Columbus has been good to him, something he is reminded of every morning when he bikes across town to get to the deli. Urban enough to be anonymous, but still cheap enough for him to pay rent with the patchwork jobs he does. And not Hawkins, so it’s already miles ahead just because of that. 

“I got lox no schmear for Tiffany. There you go, sweetheart, have a nice day.” Tiffany left her phone number at the bottom of her receipt for him, a little heart too. Yet another way Columbus has treated him well, the bevy of OSU students that seem to like what Steve has going on. Eddie calls it his “soft-prozac look,” whatever the hell that means. Certainly different from his polo shirts and varsity jacket days, but a whole lot else has changed since then.

Things are easy, simple, and he likes it that way. Making sandwiches and smiling at coeds until three, a new Tiffany every week, no strings, no stress. And the music scene at the fringes of campus. While his roommate prefers a sound with a little more edge, Steve prefers the softer, sadder stuff, and there’s plenty of it getting passed around on burned CDs and in the dim, dank bars downtown. That’s how he first started picking up gigs at the Newport Club. Art took one look at him, the remnant strength from the days of the king, and stuck him out front with a scowl and a folded wad of cash. Not to mention the perk that once the crowd is packed in, he gets to lean in the doorway and turn his good ear to the music.

…

She’s running late. Actually, she was running late twenty minutes ago. Now it’s just laughable. And somewhere in the slow slump of afternoon into evening, it has started raining. So there’s that, the hem of her skirt sticking and sweating around her ankles, skin turned tacky in the humid air. But she’s a little too focused on digging her ticket out of the bottom of her bag as she does a sort of jump-walk toward the club.

Who was it again? A friend of a friend’s boyfriend who had an extra ticket to this new band’s gig. She can’t even remember the name. Probably something precious and pretentious like toaster aneurysm. 

Shit, not good, not even the remnants of a crowd still waiting outside the venue, just some guy with his arms folded over his chest, leaning in the doorway with one doc marten crossed over the other. His eyebrow cocks, a crack of his gum rolled with his jaw when she approaches. She can hear the dull thrum of a bass coming from inside, already started.

“Hi, I’m here for the show, here’s my–”

“The show started fifteen minutes ago, sweetheart.” It’s a little stunning, not snappy, but entirely bored in the way he says it, sighing and slumping back against the wall, a flick of his chin to toss his thick flop of hair out of his eyes. 

“Okay, so? Just take my ticket and let me in.” Not in the mood, not that she ever is, for this bullshit tough guy act. Said tough guy squints at her, tongue poking in his cheek like really, this is a grave inconvenience to him, when he could have already taken her ticket and let her in and gotten back to his brooding hunch. 

“What’s your name?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“I’m Steve.”

“Good for you, Steve.” Great, he thought that was funny, a huff of a laugh and half a smile, perfect teeth and frustratingly perfect dimple. She was going for bitchy, actually. When he finally uncrosses his arms from over his chest, hooking his knuckles into the pockets of his pants, she gets a better look at his t-shirt. He must have shrunk it in the wash, or maybe it’s intentional, the way it fits so snug that the muscles in his arms bulge over the sleeves, the I heart metal  logo stretched to burst across his chest. Elliott Smith fan, so at least he’s got that going for him. 

“Are you really not gonna let me in?” 

“Are you really not gonna tell me your name?”

“It’s Ruth, okay?

“That’s an old-fashioned name.”

“So is Steve.” By now, the band has already gotten through two more songs since she got here, and she’s starting to think she’s going to have to resign herself to listening to scraps through the propped open door. For his part, Steve seems perfectly content with the situation, his chin tilted toward the sound as he pulls a menthol out of his back pocket and lights it up. For her part, Ruth is just annoyed enough to reach out and swipe the cigarette from his fingers before it makes it to his mouth, taking a smug inhale as he lets out a petulant whine of hey.

“If you’re gonna keep me out here, the least you can do is offer some refreshments.” To be fair, the more she hears of the music dripping out from the club, the less interested she is in joining the crowd, some kind of post-punk shoegaze dirge-fest from the sound of it. And no, it definitely doesn’t have anything to do with the long line of his throat when he lets smoke seep out in a hiss, head tilted back to keep his exhale from washing over her face. No, nothing to do with that, and nothing to do with the way the tendons in his forearms jump, all spilled shadow when he offers her back the cigarette. No, definitely nothing to do with that either. 

“Are you a student?” 

“No, are you?”

“No, so what do you do then?”

“I work at the library.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Hmm. What about you?”

“I work at Katz, you know? Over in german village?”

“Yeah, everyone knows Katz. I like Brown Bag better though, they’ve got that tofu cream cheese.”

“Who the hell likes tofu cream cheese? Are you vegan or something?” Rapid fire, somewhere in the volley she has mirrored his posture, her shoulder brushing against his as she rests back against the wall, fingers flickering back and forth, trying to sip down the last few drags of their shared cigarette. 

“No, I just like the taste better. Regular cream cheese gives me the heebies.” He hums, the dip and bob of his throat catching the warm shock of the streetlights. She lets herself watch him for a beat, the quick flit of her eyes away from his when he looks right back at her. Back and forth like that, she collects up every freckle she can find, the two on the side of his neck, on his cheek. Pretty boy at rest. The music is mere afterthought.

…

He’s glad he decided to be difficult tonight. The truth is, he really isn’t supposed to let people in after the set starts, something about code violations and fire hazards. But usually, he’ll nod along a few stragglers hurrying into the club, no big deal. Chalk it up to the heat, to no AC, to whatever, Steve was not feeling so generous tonight, and he’s never been so grateful for his snappy streak as he is right now.

“What size shoe did you say you are?” He’s not entirely sure how things unraveled to this. Him, with his shoeless, socked foot hovering just above the sidewalk, and her, holding her sneaker in one hand, with his doc marten on her foot, giving a few experimental shuffles in it, the hem of her skirt swirling around her shins with it. 

“Men’s twelve, probably too big for you, honey.” Her nose scrunches, mouth screwing to the side like she can’t possibly stand being called that. He tucks that away in his mind through the constant din of the concert going on inside.

“Hmm, I think I could make it work if I doubled up my socks.” 

“You gonna steal my shoes, is that your angle?”

“Well, I do need a refund for my ticket since someone wouldn’t let me in.” He scoffs, dipping his chin to hide behind his hair, just a little, buying time to think of something clever to say back to her. 

“Judging by that noise, I think I did you a favor actually.” Ruth grins, and as if on cue, a particularly discordant warble of guitar whines through the door, both of them wincing at it.

“Maybe you’re right. How much longer you think they got?” She wobbles to the side as she toes out of his boot, and Steve moves before he can think, one hand to her waist, one cupping her elbow. Up close like this, he can see the way her eyeliner has smudged at the edges, a stray speck of it on the arc of her cheek. But it’s catch and release, a laugh light in her chest as she pulls away to put her own shoe back on. 

“I’d say they’re wrapping up. We could, you know, get out of here if you wanted to.” Fun, right? That’s what this is. The flirt and flair of it, a game they both seem to be intent on. 

“Where are we going, Steve?” She tilts her head, sing-songing his name.

Steve is good at this, the logistics of it all. Hers or his. His, they decide, because hers is further away. And mercy, Eddie has been shacking up with the produce stocker from the natural grocery store over in Bexley, so they don’t have to worry about being quiet when they stumble through the door to his apartment. 

Graceless, groaning into her mouth when his hip hits the corner of the kitchen counter, and then a different noise entirely skittering up the back of his throat when Ruth’s palm finds the hurt and rubs it out with quick heat up under the hem of his t-shirt.

Here’s the thing, most of the time, he prefers to keep his shirt on. It’s not that anyone has been rude or repulsed by the scars that splay over his skin. Something much worse. A pitying thing, a pitiful thing. The drop of their brow and a pulled frown and oh my gosh, what happened to you? Yeah, he’d prefer to keep his shirt on most of the time. But right now, he wants a little more. A little more sense, a little more touch, a little more of her palms on bare skin. So it’s more feel than thought when he tugs his shirt off over his head, shivering down with it when she noses down his neck to drop her lips to the top of his shoulder. Bruise-colored kisses, he doesn’t resist the urge to thumb away the smear of her dark lipstick in the corner of her mouth. She chases after his touch, a kiss to the pad of his thumb before her grin turns sharp with the nick of her teeth. 

…

Pretty boy is pretty all over. Freckles all over, she maps them with her mouth, a slow sneak down his stomach to the waist band of his briefs. And he’s got a bedframe too, bonus. Yeah, pretty all over, flushed-pink tip when she slides his briefs down his thighs, just enough for the thick weight of him to smear pearling pleasure over the coarse hair trailing down his clenched stomach. She’s no better though, thighs clenching together in useless friction where she’s kneeling between his legs, cotton underwear that used to say Wednesday on the front and a bra that’s just as old. She really hadn’t been expecting something like this, though Steve doesn’t seem to mind, lips parted in a ghost of a swollen smile, eyes hazy with want.

“Can I?”

“You can do whatever you want, honey, fuck.” She has to temper her grin when she takes him into her mouth, pleasant pain and pressure in the hinge of her jaw because Steve certainly has something to brag about. Impossible to take all of him, she settles for laving her tongue over the vein running the underside of his cock, spit-slick palm curling around the rest. Pretty boy pretty all over making pretty sounds too. Huffs of breath that turn into groans when she swallows around him, muscle jumping under her palm that’s pressed over his stomach, her nails grazing in an implicit command. Take what you are given, pretty boy. And he does, perfectly, preening under her touch, little pants of fuck, s’good, really good that shiver straight down her spine and into her pelvis. She only realizes that her hand that isn’t working the base of him has dipped down into her panties when Steve lets out a ragged shit, that’s hot, lashes dropped down to his cheeks with the way he’s staring at her. And then it’s all quiet c’mere, c’mere, honey, insistent hand at her jaw coaxing her up, clashing teeth when they both misjudge the first kiss, and then a sigh when they get the second one right.

“You have condoms, right?” 

“Yeah, I got it, just let me–” She doesn’t exactly make it easy, mouthing at his neck as he leans over to rifle through his nightstand, jostling her in his lap with a frustrated huff that she doesn’t like the sound of.

“Fuck.”

“Are you, like, out?” He settles back against his headboard with a sigh, an answer in and of itself. 

“I bet my roommate has some though. Gimme a sec, I’ll be right back.” Quite the show, his bare ass shuffling out of his room. She lays back on the mattress, maybe wishful thinking in taking off the rest of her clothes, though Steve is quick to return with a grin and a foil packet pinched between two fingers. 

“You sitting pretty like that for me, honey?” A little wolfish, animal and annoying in how smug he smiles as he climbs onto the end of the bed, catching her knee before she can close her legs, palm smoothing down the inside of her thigh. 

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself, Steven.” 

“Steven, huh?” He tilts his head, almost absent-minded, his eyes hooded and heavy, dropped to the crux of her hips. She can’t help her quiet gasp when he drags his thumb through her swollen cunt, pad of his finger notching at her entrance, teasing, testing, before smearing back up to her clit in a lazy arc. 

“Fuck, that’s pretty. Are you ready for me?” Cocky, but also clear care. She leans up on an elbow, puling him down by his nape before her stupid heart can kick up too much at the sentiment. His hair tickles against her sternum, forehead pressed there so he can look down at his fumbling with the condom wrapper, clearly distracted, maybe by the way she’s trailing her foot up and down the back of his leg, dark nail polish against tan skin. 

It’s a stretch, of course. Perfect ache in her hips, all she can manage is an uh-huh high in her throat when he asks her if she’s alright. And then deeper, taking more of him, all of him until it’s Steve letting out the pathetic sounds, something like a whimper that she laps up, tongue flickering behind his teeth. 

The rest is a slow, spiraling, slump. It’s obscenely warm in his room, humid too, so pretty soon sweat starts to pearl and pool. In clavicles, in dips and bend of muscle, skin sticking to skin with salt and sighs, almost smothering with how Steve drapes over her. He moves good, smooth and strong like he knows what he’s doing, though it eventually devolves into a deep grind more than anything else, both of them chasing down pleasure. He smells like that clove gum he was chewing, the menthol too, and like he spent the day out sweltering in the  midsummer heat. She can’t help but dip her nose down into the center of his sternum, breathing him in as her nails dig and slip against his shoulder blades. Though soon he’s coaxing her, lemme see, honey, there you are, pretty eyes. 

Embarrassing really, that’s what snaps and snarls her into and over the edge. His eyes, blown out black, steady and certain on her. She comes so hard that she starts to shiver in the heat.

…

“Mmf.” It isn’t enough to rouse him, still slumped on his stomach with his face pressed into his pillow. But it does feel good, light scratches across his shoulder blades, then trailing up the nape of his neck and into his hair. He sighs, content in his tangle of sheets.

“I know you’re awake.” He can’t help it, smile spreading, one eye squinting open to find Ruth looking right at him, kneeling alongside the bed.

“Why’re you dressed?” 

“I need to go home before my shift. I smell like a swamp.” 

“Sorry, AC is busted.”

“Yeah, I guessed as much.” He squints sitting up, washed down in the early morning light, already missing the feel of her hand tangled in his hair.

“Can I get your number?” For once, he’d like to do this again. Ruth smiles, settling into her hip as she looks down at him.

“You got a pen?” He does, tucked into a notebook that he keeps in the bottom drawer of his nightstand, not even worried about how uncool he looks fumbling for it and a scrap of paper to give to her. Purple nail polish, he notes, so dark the color is only a suggestion. He watches the flicker of it as she passes back the pen and paper to him.

“Thanks for a nice night, pretty boy.” Still sleep-shaken, but with it enough for her words to send a flush of heat up his neck.

“Yeah, Ruth, I had a good time too. So I’ll call you?” Already halfway out his bedroom door, she still smiles over her shoulder.

“Uh-huh, you do that.” 

It’s early enough that he can linger in the scent of her in his sheets, pressing his face hard into the mattress before finally willing himself to get up. By the time he shuffles out into the living room with one and a half boots on, Eddie is back and crunching through a burnt piece of toast in front of the microwave. 

“Hey, who was that spooky-looking chick that slinked– slunk? Whatever, left earlier this morning?” 

“Her name is Ruth.” All that he offers up, pointedly focusing on pouring himself a cup of coffee. Eddie scoffs, crumbs scattering.

“Okay, and? Flavor of the week, or what?” 

“Mmm.”

“No, you’re telling me Morticia is gonna turn an honest man out of you?” Steve’s turn to scoff this time, choosing to take a long pull of coffee rather than indulging Eddie with a real answer. 

“You get her number?”

“Yeah.”

“You gonna call her?”

“Jesus, Ed, yes, lay off.”

“Oh, now I know you really like this one. You’re only bitchy about the ones you really like.” 

“Fuck off. How’s Herb, or whatever his name is.”

“Don’t be so gauche, Steven, and for the record, his name is Leif.”

“Right.”

“Anyways, Harrington Doctrine, yeah?”

“Yeah, man, exactly.” 

Now normally, according to the Harrington Doctrine, Steve should wait a full forty-eight hours, minimum, before even thinking about calling her. He does not follow the Harrington Doctrine. In fact, he barely makes it through the rest of the day without picking up a phone. When he gets home from his shift at the deli, however, he paces himself. Takes a shower first, checks the answering machine, willing away a little more time, anything to temper his apparent want. But when he does finally dial up the number on the scrap of paper he kept tucked in his notebook, he is sorely disappointed by the answer he gets on the other end.

“Brown Bag deli, how may I help you?” First, shock, reasoning to himself that he must have punched it in wrong. He tries again, careful in each button pressed.

“Brown Bag deli, how may I help–” He slams the phone back into its receiver this time, just as Eddie walks through the front door, home from his shift at the tattoo shop where he apprentices.

“Damn, tell that phone how you really feel.” 

“She gave me a fake number.”

“What? Who?”

“Mort– Ruth. I can’t believe this, she seriously gave me a fake number.” With all the tact that he usually has, Eddie plucks the scrap of paper from Steve’s hand, a grumbled lemme see as he dials the number. At first, a lift off of hope in his chest when Eddie stays on the line, brow furrowed.

“Hi, yeah, do you guys still do that portobello melt thing? Can I get that without tomatoes? Yeah, to– hey.” Steve only half pays attention to Eddie’s protest when he takes the phone and clicks it back in the receiver, something heavy settling sick in his stomach.

“She really gave me a fake number. What the fuck?” 

“Sorry, man, I guess no Addam’s Family Values for you.” 

…

He doesn’t usually get like this. Lord knows, Steve has taken his fair share of rejection. So why this one is stinging harder, lingering longer, especially when he barely knew the girl, is beyond him. 

Maybe the boldness of her rejection. A brazen, brash no. The humiliation of unassuming hope, small flames are so quick to be smothered. Or maybe the way he feels like a fool, plain and simple, for thinking there was something more happening when there so apparently wasn’t. Fun, he tells himself. She had been in it for fun. And she got her fun, and got out. And is that not one of his favorite moves in the book? Plenty of fun of his own, after all. 

But what is maybe the worst part, he can’t stop thinking about it, about her. Nearly filled up the rest of his notebook with what he can remember, nearly a whole month’s worth of remembering now. Piecemeal, by this point, the line of her nose, the curve of her brow, half a smile. What he can always recall clearly, the patterned print of flowers that was on her skirt. He scribbles it everywhere, in the margins of old receipts, in sharpie on parchment paper, slow days at the deli getting passed somewhere hazy in his mind. 

He has a headache by the time he gets back to his apartment most afternoons, opting for a few advil and closed blinds over any of the phone numbers that continue to get tucked into his hands.

“How much longer are you gonna do this?”

“Mmm.”

“Steve.”

“What?” He doesn’t have to  look to know exactly how Eddie is standing right now. In the doorway to his bedroom with his arms crossed and his hip cocked to the side, his version of concern.

“It’s been a fucking month, man. Greener pastures, fish in the sea, et cetera et cetera. You haven’t even gone to any shows since the double-M, for Christ’s sake.”

“Double-M?”

“Morticia meltdown.” Steve sighs, more interested in another swatch of flowers that he’s filling a blank page in his notebook with. Mercy, before Eddie can continue to needle him, the phone rings. He only catches scraps of what is said, but his ears prick when he hears Eddie let out a quiet oh.

“Steven, my liege, my lad, it’s  for you!” Great, probably Art calling to find out where the hell he’s been. Still, he gets up, only paying an ounce of attention to Eddie’s shit-eating grin when he takes the phone from him.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Steve?” Still only half-way paying attention, snapping his fingers in Eddie’s direction when he starts rifling through a box of cereal that Steve bought, looking for the dinky plastic toy inside, no doubt. 

“Uh, yeah, who is this?” He snaps his fingers again when Eddie keeps digging through the cereal box, mouthing the words stop it when his roommate still persists in his hunt. Steve’s going to have to buy new cereal. 

“It’s— it’s Ruth? Um, from the Newport, remember?” It’s a strange feeling, first his stomach sinking, a tight fist in his throat too, and most embarrassingly of all, that flip in his chest, that kick of hope, even now, stupid.

“Oh, oh, yeah, I remember. How did– how’d you get this number?” 

“I asked Art for it, figured he’d have your info. Listen, Steve, I need to apologize for what I did. That was just– fucking childish of me, and I hope you know that it had way more to do with my own fucked-upness than it did with anything about you.” 

“Yeah, it’s okay, you know, but it was pretty fucked up.” Stupid, how that hope floats to the top of his throat, because maybe apology means trying again. Maybe he’d like to try again. 

“There’s something else I have to tell you.” 

“Okay?” She sighs, a crackled sound over the line that makes his brow pinch.

“Look, there’s no nice way to say this, so I’m just gonna spit it out.” At this point, Eddie has crept closer, hand still buried in the cereal box, eyes wide and rapt at what is probably a stricken expression on Steve’s face.

“I’m pregnant, Steve.” What does hope turn into? A dizzying feeling, dumb and dull and done. His ears ring with it.

“I– you’re– you– what?” 

“I’m pregnant. And before you do that guy thing of asking if it’s yours, I’m pretty damn sure that it is.” Somewhere in the slow unraveling of this, he has pressed one palm to the wall, whole body slumping toward it, head dropped between his shoulder blades to try to make as much of everything else quiet so he can focus on this.

“Okay, um, okay. Do you wanna– you know– because it’s your body and if you wanna— you should–”

“I’ve decided I’m keeping it.” The way his heart seizes, stops for a beat, and then trips back over itself into rhythm scares him, palm finding his chest like he could rub that feeling out and away. 

“Right, that’s– yeah. Do you, like, need help, or–”

“No, I don’t need your help. I just– it seemed like the right thing to do to tell you, so that’s what I’m doing. But, yeah, I don’t, like, expect anything from you.” Steve scrunches his eyes shut, hard, trying to tamp down the heat starting to rise behind them, a foreign feeling, a falling feeling.

“Yeah, okay, thank you for telling me, Ruth.” Because what else could he say? It’s like he hears the words coming out of his mouth from somewhere just over his shoulder. And there’s more that he’d like to say, the right things to say, but Ruth is already beating him to it.

“So, yeah, I guess that’s all. Take care of yourself, Steve.” Already hanging up, and that sounds permanent. That sounds like no intention of ever seeing him again. The phone hangs by its chord, swinging limp a few inches above the ground.

“Steve, what the fuck was that?” One long exhale for him, shitshitshitshit. Eddie sets down the cereal box and takes him by the shoulders, squared off and trying to catch his vacant, glazed stare.

“I– we– she–”

“Did you use protection?” He blinks, nods, relieved that Eddie has already gotten explanation enough from eavesdropping on the call.

“Yeah, fuck, yes. I took a condom from your stash, it was a brand new box.” Something strange passes over Eddie’s expression, blanching and jaw slackening. 

“Steve, which box of condoms did you open?”

“What do you mean which box? The one in your closet, on the top shelf.” Eddie’s hands drop from his shoulders, brows shot straight up his forehead.

“Oh jesus christ.”

“Jesus christ? What– Ed, what the fuck does that mean?” Steve gets no reply, Eddie already scuttling into his room, followed by the distant sound of rummaging, and then a low curse. 

“So here’s the thing, Stevie, these condoms–” Eddie comes back out of his room brandishing said box of condoms, the box that Steve had opened that night with Ruth. He has a smile that slants sheepish on his face, and Steve is already starting to feel sick.

“Yeah, these condoms are from eighty-nine.” 

“As in– as in nineteen-eighty-nine?” 

“That would be correct, yes.” Eddie has already taken a few tentative steps backward, putting the kitchen counter between him and Steve. But Steve is too struck dumb to even consider anything like vengeance on his roommate, dragging both his hands through his hair and tugging hard until it hurts.

“Who– why– what the fuck are you doing with five-year-old condoms?”

“Ha, well, you see, I figured after a decade or two maybe they’d be worth something, you know? Like a collector’s item.” Wordless, Steve shuffles over to Eddie and takes the box of condoms from his hands, something like a laugh that sounds so sharp Eddie winces at the sound.

“Ed, a signed poster is a collector’s item. This is a box of condoms– this is– this is junk.” 

“Well it’s junk now, Steven, since someone opened it.”

“Oh no, uh-uh, you don’t get to be pissy about this, not when there’s literally a girl who’s pregnant because you’re such a fucking hoarder.” 

“Uh, excuse me, I’m not the one who didn’t check the expiration date when they went fumbling around for a condom.”

“I didn’t think I needed to worry about five-year-old condoms, fuck!” The volume of his voice surprises even him, silence falling heavy and hard in the echo of it. Steve rests his hands on the counter, letting his shoulders shrug up to his ears, slumping down into his bones. Eddie rests a cautious hand on his arm.

“What’re you gonna do?”

“I don’t know, Ed. I really don’t know.”

[starry-hughes]

jealousy

a blurb in the osu!hughes sister universe

the michigan wolverines played ohio soon after your breakup with tyler. you made luke promise not to hurt tyler. it was a hard commitment but luke didn't want to add strain to his friendship with dylan.

it was odd, having to ignore tyler lingering nearby at a party. you invited the michigan boys to one of the campus parties the night before the game. they weren't going too hard at partying but it was nice to be able to let loose and be college students.

tyler was at the party too. talking with his teammates who were at the party and occasionally talking to his brother. you felt like a traitor hanging out with the rival school.

"don't look but tyler is dancing with some girl," ethan edwards slides into the space next to you. you were leaning against a wall, a drink in your hand. "why should i care?" you take a long sip of your drink, "he and i are broken up."

it panged your heart to see tyler with someone else. especially when he had always reminded you that he had only loved you. ethan held his hands up in defense, "just thought i would tell you."

mark estapa was nearby, chatting up some random girls. you had a tiny crush on him when luke first introduced you but it ended soon after the start since you started dating tyler soon after meeting mark. he was always calling you pet names and always trying to make you blush.

finishing the drink in your hands, you left ethan on the wall, walking over to mark, jealously running through your body. you shouldn't have felt jealous that tyler was dancing with someone else. you were the one who broke up with him. you told him to his face that you no longer loved him. you had no right to be jealous. and you had no right to use mark.

"hey beautiful," mark greeted as you approached, the girls around him scattering.

"kiss me."

mark's jaw fell. "what?"

"kiss me mark."

luckily, luke wasn't nearby to see his teammate kissing his sister. mark's hand cupped your cheek roughly as you let your arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him in closer. although luke wasn't there to see the makeout session happening, tyler was there. his heart breaking as you kissed mark.

[wild-zamboni]

Enchanted by the way the teens at work have no idea they live in a city. Like it’s just hilarious when I hear a teen say “there’s nothing to do in Ohio” and it’s like you were JUST telling me that you had a cosi annual pass as a kid. We have a huge zoo. There are constantly huge big name concerts and broadway touring shows playing at our huge theaters. You live blocks away from OSU campus. There are places in the world that do not have movie theaters. There is plenty to do you live in COLUMBUS

[theodorenussphotography]

A gray fox I photographed on the western edge of the OSU campus

[deepspacedukat]

Telltale Drip

I know Tolaris is a shitty person. I do. But he is also pretty. So, for this little drabble, we’re gonna all collectively agree that the Tolaris in this fic is a version of himself who didn’t do the creepy mind meld thing to T’Pol. Okay? Okay. So! In the episode he was in, he mentioned that he used to teach literature at the Shirkar Academy, which is a Vulcan university. This is a little drabble of an idea about why he really left, beyond all that “more to life than logic” reasoning that he gave.

Day 17: Precome

SoC prompt list here. SoC Masterlist here. Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Tolaris (ST:ENT) x Vulcan!Reader

[A/N: This is smut, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Teacher/student fantasy, sexual fantasy, one-sided attraction, masturbation, the heart and lok want what they can’t have, copious amounts of precome.

~*~

She was one of his most accomplished students. With two degrees to her name prior to enrolling in his literature class, Tolaris knew she was something special. It was illogical to dwell on her beauty since she did not attend his lectures for the purpose of pleasing others with her appearance, but he couldn’t help it.

Demure and proper yet opinionated, she’d challenged one of his assertions on the very first day of class, and Tolaris had to admit that she defended her position admirably. She would have a distinguished career and make many leaps forward in her research, he could tell. There were even rumors of the Vulcan Science Academy inviting her to join.

Her betrothed was indeed a fortunate man. They’d met on campus once when she needed to discuss some scheduling detail, and Tolaris wished nothing more than to take his place. In the recesses of the literature professor’s mind, he harbored a sort of fantasy - a daydream in which he challenged her betrothed and won her through the ritual combat. The thought of proving himself to her by killing the unworthy oaf to whom her parents had promised her sent a bolt of satisfaction through him.

He was very aware that by indulging such thoughts he was allowing his emotions to control the direction his mind took, but was there not more to life than duty and logic? Was there no room for the passion which he desired to shower upon her? Given the opportunity to do so, he would happily show her what a devoted mate could do for her.

As it was, he always made sure to give her his full attention when she spoke or asked a question - an extra hint of focus spiraled through his irises as his eyes focused on her, much like they had today. She had requested clarification about a thematic variation he’d discussed, and he had given her the most thorough answer he could possibly muster.

His heart had thrummed rapidly in his side at her gentle, murmured gratitude.

“Lesek, osu.” He’d managed a nod of acknowledgment, but he was forced to stand behind his desk as he continued his lecture. Tolaris had no choice. Until he could control his body’s reaction to her, he needed to hide the evidence of his arousal. He would have suspected that his pon farr was approaching had it not been for her repeated ability to draw such inappropriate reactions from him.

As soon as the lecture had ended and all the students had filed out, Tolaris went into his office and activated the appropriate privacy precautions. This was a weakness, but he needed release. He unwrapped his robes enough to get at the trousers and tunic he wore beneath, only to find a large damp spot over the bulging fabric.

His pre-ejaculate had always been rather prolific, so, truly, he should not have been surprised that his clothing had already been soiled. Thinking ahead, he carefully removed his outer robes and draped them over a chair to the side. Sitting behind his desk and removing his damp, leaking lok from the confines of his clothing, Tolaris moaned quietly at the visible evidence of what she did to him simply by existing.

He almost hoped that his pon farr had been knocked out of its cycle simply so that he could let out a little of the emotion that he’d been bottling up since this term started. This was beginning to become too much for him.

How shameful was he that he would feel the need to rut into his hand in broad daylight in his office? Anyone could catch him. Tolaris would be thrown out in disgrace, and a position at the Shirkar Academy was too good of an opportunity to be wasted.

...Or was it? Would it even be wasted if he allowed himself time to explore these persistent, building feelings? Surely such an endeavor would be dangerous. Most others who had attempted to do so ended up reverting to their primal natures - they became savage beasts so intent upon allowing passion to control their minds that they were practically feral.

A shiver ran up Tolaris’s spine when he allowed himself to consider what it might be like to allow himself to succumb to such urges. The hunger that he felt stirring beneath his normally calm surface would be displayed proudly and prominently on his face.

Would she like him better that way? Would it give her pleasure to see how desperate and lustful she rendered him with a simple glance? Oh, he would strip naked and crawl to her, if such an action pleased her!

His hips jutted upwards, forcing his lok through his palm’s tight grip at an even more rapid pace than before. Precome dripped over his fingers and down his wrist, dampening the sleeve of his tunic in a trail of damning desire. He would need to remain cautious when walking home this evening lest he unknowingly allow others to view the evidence of his momentary weakness.

His pleasure built more rapidly than he was expecting, and just when he had begun imagining what it would be like to mate with the object of his desire while in the throes of such savagery, the taut, delicate string of his arousal snapped throwing him into the strongest orgasm he’d had since his last Burning. With his mouth open in a silent shout, Tolaris covered the head of his lok with his other hand and caught his cum in his palm before he could make too big of a mess.

While he caught his breath, he laid his head back against his chair, trying to control his emotions once more. Perhaps it was time that he consider looking for others who were having the same difficulty that he was. Perhaps if he sought out the V’tosh ka’tur he could make a more informed decision about his future...and his options.

For now, though, he needed to clean himself up and head home to meditate.

~*~*~

Vulcan Words:

lesek = thank you

osu = sir

V’tosh ka’tur = Vulcans without logic

~*~

Taglist:

@akamitrani @android-boyfriends @attention-bajoranworkers @bigblissandlove1 @darkmattervibes @emilie786 @horta-in-charge @live-logs-and-proper @slutty-slutty-vulcans @starrynightgardens @toebeans-mcgee

[cupidbedsy]

real 😭😭 i’ve got a tour to a local college soon, a bunch if my family members have gone there so i think it’s gonna be the one i pick. plus i’ve been there before but where we do our band assessments

i’ve always wanted to go to michigan (even tho i grew up as an osu fan living like two hours from their campus, i even had a cat named after their mascot. i love that cat sm he was my baby) we don’t have hockey around here, but with cbj not so far and getting able to see gavin play (i’m going to this season and hopefully a umich game)

i haven’t applied yet but i’m gonna apply to a few !!

yea, we’ve played 2 home games (this will be the 3) but i’m grateful for that bye week

we’ve made it the past 2 years and lost, we don’t have a good team this year so we won’t make it this year i don’t believe

ooo fun!!! college tours are actually so fun like bsfr

good luck tho!! bro i don’t think ive ever been so nervous even though i knew i was going to get in

michigan has such a good sports management program and where i’m going they only have a minor which still isn’t bad but i would’ve liked to do that maybe. i had another school that had a good sports management program but i just didn’t like it as much as where im going. but im broke and my sat was not good enough to get me a high scholarship for michigan so out of the question

but yeah like our football team is trash but people have said our new coach is good so maybe???

but we don’t have bye weeks, it’s literally games for 9 weeks and it switches how many home games we get each year. like we had four last year and now we have five

[naranja-academy-official]

Welcome to Naranja Academy, the forefront of education in the Paldea Region, and the top site of academic study throughout most of our world!

I, the one typing in black text, am Director Clavell, head of this fine institution. Below are some of our best instructors!

My name is Professor Jacq, and I teach Biology and Computer Studies! I also developed the code for the modern day Pokedex program, available for anyone to download and add anything they wish!

Osu! My name is Dendra, and I’m the Competitive Battle Studies and Fitness teacher! If you enroll in my classes, you’ll learn competitive battle techniques AND proper exercise techniques in order to strengthen your body and your mind!

Listen up, because this is going to be history once I’m done speaking. My name’s Raifort, and I teach History, Legendary Theory, and Mythological Investigation classes at the academy. The future isn’t as important as the past, and so I aim to teach the youth of this time everything we know about what came before.

My name’s Saguaro. I teach Mental Health and Home Economics classes at Naranja Academy. I also double as one of the school’s many therapists and psychiatrists, so don’t hesitate to stop by if you need any help!

Je m'appelle Salvatore. My name is Salvatore! I teach the Language and Cultural Studies classes of the academy! I also assist Professor Jacq with our Pokémon Breeding and Care club on campus as the Secretary of the club, so please contact me if any help is needed!

Hello, my name is Tyme. I teach Mathematics and Basic Battle Studies. Please, don’t be afraid to ask for help with assignments from any class, as I’m sure I’ll be able to help with whatever I can!

And there we have it. An introduction from all of our most skilled academic instructors. I hope that was a good introduction to what kind of staff works at Naranja Academy.

And with that, this is the official Rotomblr Blog of our school, so don’t be afraid to ask questions to any of us if you need anything!

[shefanispeculator]

Today, Hendricks can look back at a spectacular career, having produced 116 Top 10 singles, 75 of which peaked at No. 1. All toll his number one records have spent 117 weeks (over 2 years) at the top of the chart. He has earned six awards from the Academy of Country Music, two from the Country Music Association as well as an Emmy Award for his production for the theme song of Monday Night Football with Hank Williams Jr. His production credits include the best of the best: Restless Heart, Alan Jackson, Brooks & Dunn, Faith Hill, John Michael Montgomery, Trace Adkins, Dan + Shay, Jana Kramer, Michael Ray, William Michael Morgan and Blake Shelton among many others. He achieved perhaps the ultimate distinction in this age of reality TV when he joined Shelton four times as a mentor on NBC’s The Voice.

By the time he began his studies at OSU, Hendricks was ready and eager to pursue a career in music. He miraculously found a job working in the Audio Visual Center on campus where he met Tim DuBois. They recorded many of their songwriting demos there, starting on a 2-track recorder and then graduating to a 4-track. Hendricks also started playing guitar in a Top 40 band called Marin. Eventually, once hearing a better guitar player, Greg Jennings, he volunteered to become the front of house mixer. When he found that the school’s undergraduate programs didn’t quite fit with his ambitions, he took the initiative to create and gain approval for a unique degree in architectural acoustics. The school mapped out a curriculum that included classes in engineering, music, radio/film/television and the graduate program in architecture. The end goal was to find a way to get into a professional recording studio one day.

With his Marin bandmate, Greg Jennings (who later became the guitar player in Restless Heart), Hendricks relocated to Nashville just one day after they had earned their degrees, not bothering to wait for the cap-and-gown ceremony. Through his numerous trips to Nashville with Tim DuBois pitching their songs to publishers, Hendricks had a job lined up following graduation working at a company as a recording studio acoustician and salesman of recording equipment. Hendricks then befriended engineer and fellow Oklahoman Ron Treat at the Glaser Brothers’ Studio, where he spent every night after his day job assisting Treat and watching legendary producer Jimmy Bowen work. There, he witnessed some of country music’s greatest recordings.

In 1984, Hendricks and Tim DuBois took a chance on recording an unnamed band to secure a record deal. That band became Restless Heart and was signed to RCA Records. Many hits followed including the iconic song “I’ll Still Be Loving You”. This launched the 30+ year career of producing.

[tieflingkisser]

Muslim Women Are Having Their Hijabs Torn Off by Police All Over America

Women across the country are having their civil rights blatantly violated while in police custody.

On the morning of April 25, Sumaya Hamadmad, a research scientist at Ohio State University, was sitting in the center of campus when she was arrested for “criminal trespassing.” Students had formed an encampment to call for the university to divest from Israel earlier that morning, before being dispersed by campus police. When Hamadmad and a friend arrived at the campus Oval—not to protest, but simply to enjoy the sunny morning—there was no crowd left. But the Ohio State Police Department targeted Hamadmad and accused her of attempting to form another encampment. When she started questioning the officers’ false assumptions and orders for her to leave, she was arrested. And when her friend questioned Hamadmad’s arrest, she too was arrested. Hamadmad was then transferred to a Franklin County jail. There, she was strip-searched and ordered to take off her hijab, a religious head covering worn by Muslim women. Despite making multiple requests to have her hijab returned to her, she was denied any sort of head covering for the 12 hours that she remained in custody. Tucking her arms and hair into her shirt, she did what she could to remain covered.

[...]

Hamadmad is not alone in having her religious freedom violated in this way. Multiple incidents of law enforcement officials taking off women’s hijabs against their will have occurred alongside sweeping arrests at pro-Palestine protests. Many of these incidents took place on college campuses. There have been verified reports from students and faculty at least four universities—Arizona State University, Columbia University, Depaul University, and Ohio State University—as well as alleged incidents at several others. The influx of arrests of Muslim women at pro-Palestine protests highlights a critical flaw in the criminal justice system. The hijab is an expression of a Muslim woman’s faith, symbolizing modesty, privacy, and agency over one’s body, and depriving a woman of that coverage can be humiliating and traumatizing. Muslim women have a clear First Amendment right to keep their heads covered for religious purposes, including in spaces where others might have to remove head coverings. Reflecting this, the Bureau of Prisons allows for incarcerated Muslims to keep their hijabs on in federal prisons, and at least 17 states, including New York, specifically allow for religious head coverings to be worn throughout a prison. Yet there are no federal laws that explicitly protect a woman’s right to keep on her hijab while being arrested, in police custody, or in a temporary holding facility, either for a mug shot or otherwise. The difficulty that Muslim women have experienced is also reflective of the general vitriol that Muslim women have been facing in activism spaces. (Just look at this video from the University of California, Los Angeles, where pro-Israeli counterprotesters chant at women, “Take off your hijab and get a job.”) And even before pro-Palestine solidarity encampments spread across American universities, many Muslim activists had already been experiencing violations of their religious liberties.

[...]

Dalal Shalash, a Palestinian who was arrested at the OSU encampment, said at a Columbus City Council meeting on April 29 that she saw three women made to remove their hijabs for mug shots at a Franklin County jail. One did not have her hijab returned until Shalash “made a scene,” demanding that the officers do so. Shalash compared this violation of the women to the humiliation tactics of the Israeli military. “We had women’s hijabs being forcefully removed, which is all too reminiscent of the humiliation tactics of the IOF, who regularly strip Palestinian women they arrest, for no other reason than to humiliate,” she said at the meeting. According to the United Nations. Countless Palestinian women have been subject to sexual assault by the Israeli Defense Forces, which includes strip searches by male officers.

[...]

“Dictatorship doesn’t happen suddenly. It’s chipped away piece by piece. That’s why we need to stop it at the beginning,” said Hamadmad, who remembers asking to be read her Miranda rights, to which the officer replied, “No, I don’t have to.” Unbeknownst to her at the time, the Supreme Court had silently rolled back many of the protections guaranteed by the famous 1966 Miranda v. Arizona case in 2022. “You can sense dictatorship when you’ve been through it, and I could sense it in that moment.”

[tsunflowers]

venturing into osu campus I hope they don’t smell the wolverine in my blood and stone me to death with buckeyes

[stabbingandorbeingstabbed]

hey kady! im sending this message on anon so i don’t dox myself lmaoo but ive just followed you for a while here on tumblr and saw that you’re coming to columbus for your concert, which is near where i grew up! if you’re looking for good food/treats/coffee, i highly recommend the lox bagel shop and a place called pistacia vera that does french pastry and coffee. also sextons pizza is near OSU’s campus (which is right by the venue thursday is playing) and it’s the best pizza in the city!! mwah! have fun!

AH THANK U !! i booked a cheap hotel so im sure ill be in need of some food at some point during my short stay i would LOVE a coffee and french pastry moment ❤️❤️❤️

[jacensolodjo]

was not looking for a news story about an attack on more Jewish students at colleges in areas with a reasonably large Jewish population but I got it anyway.

Gonna attack them on early Friday morning. At OSU. Columbus, Ohio? Pray tell, what have they done?

All they have done is be Jewish on campus. Just like everywhere else. These boys were literally just walking and minding their own business, maybe were discussing the vandalism on the nearby Hillel center the day before? One apparently was considered severe enough he needed more than a first aid kit so he got some treatment at the medical center.

For those unaware, Columbus Ohio does indeed have a reasonably large population for a Midwest state. It might in fact have more Chabad houses than it needs. Generally if a Jew is from Ohio it's a good bet they mean Columbus.