#but that's Not Your Fault :) You Have A Disease

[bioethicists]

it's very important to understand how a personality disorder diagnosis functions in the psychiatric system, even if you identify with the diagnosis or find it useful.

personality disorders on your medical record will be used to discredit anything you say or do. they indicate "don't bother listening to this person; apply treatment regardless of their wishes but also they're probably manipulating/attention-seeking so maybe don't bother treating them". needing support becomes attention-seeking. behaviors that would be treated + supported in someone without this diagnosis are ignored or treated as manipulative. providers are instructed to "withdraw warmth" (a real thing in the DBT provider's manual, btw) in response to self-injury or suicidal ideation.

if you have been dx'd with a personality disorder professionally, you likely understand this.

now, here's the important part: this is not an issue of 'stigma' against a politically neutral, pre-discursive True Disease which is being Unfairly Maligned. these diagnoses were formulated based on the idea that some patients cannot be trusted, that some patients seek care too much. they are applied to patient charts as a justification for withdrawing care or as a dismissal of someone "not getting better" fast enough. in the uk, they are often employed by the nhs to shame or problematize people who use large amounts of nhs resources, arguing that receiving a lot of care through the nhs is a negative behavior stemming from a disordered personality.

there are elements of personality disorders which resonate strongly with many people, including myself, but you need to be clear-eyed about the origins + functions of this diagnosis. as a whole, they were created + function as ways to discredit + mistreat noncompliant or "difficult" patients. 'reclaiming' them is not going to change how they function systematically- it is going to make it easier to engage in this systematic neglect by evoking 'ableism' or 'stigma!' when people question the utility or application of the diagnosis.

[raspberryzingaaa]

Thinking about going to World Most Boring Bible Study Ever. Idk yall. Idk. Idek.

[somejerkguy]

I just get told so many times "you just haven't found the right people"

other people pick up relationships of all kinds over their whole lives though? and those people float in and out of each other's lives, stay in touch, catch up when they can

like. I don't think it's unreasonable to not try again when every single person I've cared about has closed the door behind them on the way out

[tiredtriedfailures]

i get trans men being filed in as Man (derogatory) by other queer people i do it to myself

[eggsnatcheskneecaps]

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[bravevolunteer]

a choice i constantly go back and forth on is whether or not i want michael to have graduated high school....... because on one hand falling behind on grades/accumulating absences/dropping out fits ( especially with how i have him in those few years before sister location working and trying to figure out what sticks, he didn't really have a long term plan ), but on the other..... there's this particular pain that comes with being the only one who makes it that far but feeling so undeserving of it, achieving something you thought and were TOLD you wouldn't but having no one to celebrate it with

[david-watts]

maybe I'm a bit possessive but I HATE it when mainlanders and god forbid non-australians especially yanks are all 'we should bring back the thylacine because it's OUR fault it's extinct' like who's we? this is something white tasmanians did. if you wanna mourn an extinct species due to human action go find something local to you instead

[shailion]

They either want something from you (your food/drink, sweat, for you to get away from their nest) or they think you're a weird shaped tree to perch on

They don't mean any harm (except for the ones who want you to go away although they rather not do it if they have a choice)

[sphingogo]

only on Twitter can statements like “exposing cancer patients to COVID (the disease that kills people, especially people with cancer) so you can throw an in-person event is a terrible thing to do” and “throwing events without COVID (the disease that kills people) mitigations kills people” be controversial

[tahani-family]

GAZA 😭😭🇵🇸🔗⬇️

support us we lost our home and our workes😔💔

My children are sick from the cold and the spread of diseases, and they are all in pain. I have been displaced with my children many times, and each time we had to bleed her precious evacuation money to buy transportation and transportation.

These conditions are absolutely catastrophic. It's the end of the world. No child, no mother, no person should have to go through this.

You can help by donating and sharing so we don't have to struggle anymore. All we are hoping for is to get enough money to evacuate to Cairo so we don't have to rely on the black market for simple things like food anymore.

You can help. 

Please take time out of your day to donate to my family, our campaign is moving very slowly and we need your help.

Please help my family get out of this hell. We, like all human beings, deserve safety, comfort, and warmth, and now you have a way to help provide these things for us.

https://gofund.me/5770752d.

Dear, please don't let me down, we deserve life and we deserve your generosity and kindness towards us, you are our lifeline and with your generosity you give us life even a little, but you relieve us of injustice and the cursed war, you are the hope and life once again, be side by side hand in hand, we will make a big difference with faith, strength, will and determination, we will reach the goal, we are very close, I hope you participate and contribute if you can. 💜🇵🇸🍉🍉💐💐.

I am a mother of three beautiful little girls, Sana and Hanan. Hla has been sick recently and Hla needs to be vaccinated very soon, but I can tell you that the situation has been very difficult in Gaza and the campaign has been slow lately.

Thank you to everyone who donated and participated from the bottom of my heart, but my campaign needs more support and interaction. I think that my campaign did not receive the required interaction and attention. It is not my fault that I am Palestinian so that I do not receive support. I think that other campaigns and non-Arab campaigns take momentum from interaction and support. It is not my fault that a Palestinian is marginalized for the sake of my children, humanity, and children's rights. Help m🙏🏻🙏🏻💔💔.

My name is Tahani, I am 30 years old from Gaza and I have three very young children, Sana, Hanan and my youngest, Hala, who grew up during the war. Our house was destroyed, I was displaced several times and I am currently separated from the rest of my family - my husband, brothers, sisters and parents. I cannot tell you how stressed I am.

@xxx-sparkydemon-xxx @lampthehealthminister @baandar @doug-dimmadumb @astronotesstuff @prokyon @the-bitch-isback @aceofrage @intheindustrynow-blog @horrorcore2002 @thescavenger29 @yvening @springcres @meowmaids @akaratna @ezras-turtleneck-blog @fagarlic @grandpom @omens-augury @pianta @kingtransgender @friendlizard @intricatecakes @marbirds @error-core-animations @block-swing-perry @br-eddrolls @kraigerzz-blog @daily-click-reminders @commissions4aid-international @anneemay @tumkaafiho @balaclava-trismegistus @ripley-stark @mangocheesecakes @bees-fantasies @girl4pay @turtletoria @rikebe @esperantoauthor @starless-gaze @frehsca

I am doing my best to take care of my children by myself, despite facing hunger, thirst, disease and the threat of death. The other day, there was heavy shelling near me and another family close to us was killed. Life in Gaza is now hell and I tell you that we are living as if we are waiting for our turn to die.

I am Tahani from Gaza, I am 30 years old. I stand before you as a person trying to maintain my family. I am married and a mother of three children: Sana, who is seven years old, Hanan, who is five years old, and a girl named hla. She grew up during the war and in very harsh conditions that no human being can bear. I moved from the hospital directly to the tent. I cannot describe the extent of the suffering and difficulty of living in the tent.

But I need help. The situation in Gaza is very bad right now, with the IDF preventing aid from entering and the food, water and medicine that is available are very expensive. Please share and donate to help me and my children survive and eventually leave Gaza.

Thank you all. I hope you will support me to save my life and the lives of my children🇵🇸🍉🍉.

‼️Please don’t skip taking a look 🍉🇵🇸.

We are trying to survive in miserable conditions in tents in Mawasi Deir al-Balah, south of Gaza. It is difficult for me to find the words to describe what we face every day in Gaza. No food, no medicine, no clean drinking water, oppression, helplessness, psychological pressure, doubts and daily trauma due to the loss of loved ones. In Gaza, it is not only hunger, disease and fear; it means actual death.

We have been forced to move more than 7 times, and my house has been completely destroyed, and I cannot provide enough milk, diapers, medicines, and vitamins for my children.💔🍉🇵🇸😭

Now, I find myself in this difficult situation, and I strongly and humbly ask for your help to save the lives of my family, especially my children, by getting us out of Gaza. The situation in Gaza has become unbearable due to slow death as a result of hunger, thirst, displacement, the spread of diseases and continuous bombing.🍉🇵🇸💔

The past months have been full of hell and horror. This war has gone on for too long, and our mental health and lives are constantly at risk. We have reached a point where there is no hope anymore in Gaza, as if we are waiting for death. Even if a ceasefire is reached, the devastation in Gaza in all its forms cannot be quickly repaired

Please help me and my children to get us out of genocide🍉🇵🇸💔.

Your help will contribute greatly to alleviating our suffering. I hope you will share my story with your family and friends.💔💔

I will be forever grateful for your kind assistance in this difficult time🇵🇸🇵🇸

Thank you for your kindness and generosity❤️.

Donation link 🇵🇸👇

https://gofund.me/5770752d

1. Verified using Butterflyeffect Project font (1153)

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #275 )✅️

[sizzlingsandwichperfection-blog]

Arw you really the author John Green? The same person who wrote The Fault in Our Stars and Looking for Alaska?

Yes, but I published one of those books 19 (?!?!?!) years ago and the other 12 (!?!?!?!?) years ago. What have I been up to since then?

My brother Hank and I started Good.store, which delivers high-quality socks, coffee, and soap to your home and donates 100% of its profit to charity. Through good store, we've raised over $7,500,000 to support efforts to radically reduce maternal mortality in Sierra Leone, where as recently as 2019, one in seventeen women could expect to die in pregnancy or childbirth.

(In fact, technically I am here on tumblr as an unpaid intern for the awesome coffee club, which you should really sign up for if you like ethically sourced coffee that tastes delicious and doesn't enrich billionaires.)

I wrote the novel Turtles All the Way Down and then had a little existential crisis and wrote a nonfiction book called The Anthropocene Reviewed, the latter of which is my first book for adults and my first attempt to write as myself.

I helped produce made a movie adaptation (streaming now on Max!) of Turtles all the Way Down.

I helped raise my kids and supported my spouse as she wrote her book You Are An Artist and created a PBS show about art called The Art Assignment.

I ran the educational media company Complexly and the merch company dftba.com while my brother had cancer.

I bought around 2% of a fourth-tier English football team called AFC Wimbledon. Wimbledon are different from most football clubs because they are owned by their fans, each of whom gets one vote in the club's leadership regardless of how much money they put into the club.

I became obsessed with tuberculosis, the world's deadliest infectious disease (it will kill over a million people this year despite being curable), and how TB both exemplifies and reinforces human-built structures of injustice, which is the subject of a book I'm writing that will come out next year.

[giantkillerjack]

I've said it before and I'll say it again:

If you are disabled and you need to lie to get the accommodations you need or to escape ableist social harassment, then it is not just morally acceptable to lie in that scenario, it is morally GOOD.

I say this with no irony or satire whatsoever (unlike the original post, which is very much meant to be sarcastic).

Abled people are always trying to be the "hero" who finds the "fakers," as though "fakers" are actually a concern for disabled people. - When instead I don't know a single disabled person who hasn't been denied the care they need by being called a faker on multiple occasions. That's what we ACTUALLY live in fear of.

(Also, notably, finding the "faker" is not actually about protecting disabled people for these self-appointed "heroes". It's actually about finding an ego-boosting outlet for personal aggression and frustration. They don't care that the government has the funding to care for all of us and yet refuses. They just want to pretend this isn't about them, and are using other disabled people as a moral shield.)

Besides, every person I've met who is actually LYING about their disability has done so not because they are faking being disabled (for all the AWESOME benefits that DEFINITELY exist - ????), but because their ACTUAL disability is not taken seriously by the gatekeepers who can deny them the help they need.

Lying in this scenario protects a disabled person from stigma, injury, pain, death, and/or social neglect. This is a moral good. Lying to protect people from abuse is good, yourself included.

You shouldn't get a wheelchair, walker, cane, shower chair, or any kind of assistive technology mobility aid because then you might become dependent on them. Just like how you also shouldn't get glasses if you have bad eyesight because then you might become dependent on those.

For instance, if you end up stuck using corrective eyewear, you could actually lose your ability to tell what things are even when they are extremely blurry! You need to get used to having migraines from seeing unclearly because if you wear glasses all the time, you are basically giving up!! You don't need to see things coming at you from far away! You just need to get good at dodging, and if you can't, then you have no one to blame but yourself!!

For example, I read a really heart-worming article recently about a girl who was stuck using glasses - just absolutely, tragically trapped in her eyewear from dawn to dusk, even though she was good and never ever complained; and I heard she trained herself to discern the blurry faces of her loved ones with 60% accuracy! - she was even able to walk down the aisle at her wedding WITHOUT forcing the discomfort of seeing a woman in glasses on all her guests!!

Sure, she had to give her vows with a splitting headache, and she couldn't see her husband's expression when he said "I do," but overall, SO inspi-ration-al!!! So up-lifting!!

(She didn't even have to use a seeing eye cane, which would have been the worst-case scenario, obviously, because she worked hard to make sure she looked LESS disabled, not MORE disabled!!! Everyone knows blind people exist solely to be a cautionary tale to sighted people!!)

Also, did you know some people get glasses when they only need them a little bit?? How selfish of them! Sure, there's not a shortage, and an increase in demand would result in overall increased accessibility to glasses--but emotionally it's like taking glasses away from someone who needs them more! After all, if everyone who needed glasses got them, then...... um...... more people would have glasses! Which is probably bad!!!!

I also had a friend who was trapped in glasses who saved up all her money for laser eye surgery, and I don't know why everyone doesn't just do that! Sure, some doctors say some people don't "qualify" and it "won't help" those people, but that's why you can't give up!! You don't want to be one of those people!

After all, what's the worse thing that could happen with an unnecessary laser surgery to the face that comes with crippling debt??? It's worth the risk to gain your FREEDOM back, and I'm so proud of my friend!!

Tragically, she did die later that year while driving Uber and squinting at street signs, but at least now I know my friend is finally free from the shackles of her terrible eyesight. #ripAshley #rippedAshley #justripit 😌😌😌❤😇😇😇

And that's why you shouldn't get used to using a mobility aid!! Because, like glasses, they are inherently embarrassing to be seen with; and - like glasses - it is more noble to silently suffer than to depend on unnatural technologies that force you to rely on them!!! (Besides, everyone else will be SO much more comfortable if you look normal!)

I hope you learned something today. 💖

[genderqueerdykes]

one of the most evil parts about me being told that i needed to lose weight before i could get my diseased gallbladder removed was that without telling me at all whatsoever, the physician's assistant who was responsible for my surgery consult silently gave me a referral for bariatric weight loss surgery. she told me that i'd have to get my gallbladder removal surgery with that department as well because they're used to working on bigger bodies.

she told me this, but that's not what she meant. she wanted me to get bariatric weight loss surgery all because i told her that i have poly cystic ovarian syndrome and that it's hard for me to willingly lose weight. when i called the bariatric surgeons about scheduling my consult for my gallbladder removal, they were extremely confused and were like "well is this for the bariatric surgery referral or the gallbladder removal referral?"

without my permission, without me asking, the physician's assistant silently signed me up for weight loss surgery that i never consented to. i never once mentioned wanting this surgery. i never once mentioned that my weight is affecting my health or bothering me. this person saw this as a mandatory step in order to get the surgery to remove my diseased organ. as if there were no other options. i never want to get bariatric weight loss surgery because i know it will completely devastate my health. this PA was so stuck on my weight. she could not get over it, she was literally obsessed. she did not care about my health, safety or well being, she was just obsessed with her hatred of fat people

she saw my weight as a higher priority than my diseased gallbladder. she was so stuck up her own ass that she was convinced that my weight was doing more damage to me than my gallbladder was. she wanted to keep blaming me for eating a high fat diet (i'm a vegetarian- i don't eat a high fat diet) and mocking me for being fat. she literally saw me being fat as a bigger issue than the fact that i had a literal rock stuck in the neck of one of my organs. if you ask me, if the surgeons and anesthesiologists have problems working on fat patients, that's a skill issue on them. that means you're a bad surgeon or anesthesiologist and you need to try to improve your skills. this is a literal skill issue, it's not the patient's fault that the medical professional fucking sucks at their job!

i can't describe to you how evil and insidious that is. the fact that she looked at me and went "oh my fucking god it's your weight that's the problem just go lose weight you fat asshole" just showed how much disregard she has for her fat patients. it's like she relishes torturing us or leaving us to be sick or die. there's no reason to behave this way. there's no reason to FORCE someone into weight loss surgery. my health is NOT being negatively impacted by my weight- gallstones are not caused by being overweight, and you can't give yourself gallstones. no matter how much fat you eat you can't give yourself gallstones- this is something that happens outside of your control

i hate medical professionals who are proudly fatphobic. they wear the fact that they let people remain sick and die as a badge of honor. like they're doing the world a favor. like staying sick or dying is better off for the patient. like the patient somehow doesn't "DESERVE" to be in good health. fat people DO deserve to be in good health. we DON'T have to "EARN" surgeries or life saving procedures. we are alive and human just like everyone else. this qualifies us for being cared for medically, no matter what. leave your prejudices at home. you can't just kill fat people because you don't like that we exist.

[girlivealwaysbean]

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[sceletaflores]

ghosts, ghouls, goblins, and other things that go bump in the night!

pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 4.5k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, drinking, resident bestie diva wade wilson, matching costumes ofc, established relationship, p in v, semi-public sex (bathroom), rough sex, mirror sex, gratuitous amounts of dirty talk, light degradation, light hair pulling, light choking, nasty dirty breeding kink (@guiltyasdave infected me with the breeding kink disease...it's all her fault), 4k words for straight up porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: happy halloween! sort of...i obvi couldn't wait to post this until the actual day cause i have absolutely zero patience so here you go! i thought up this idea in the middle of the night and literally got out of bed to start it. it's a nasty self indulgent mess...hope you love it! kisses <3

cutie divider by icon @saradika-graphics!

you and logan have some fun at wade's halloween party...

Unsurprising to no one, Wade Wilson knows how to throw a party. 

Every year since the two of you became neighbors, you’ve gotten a gaudy invitation decorated with cartoon bats and devils slipped under your door just in time for Halloween.

Of course, it’s always in some cheesy font, red and glittery. A crappy pun about “scaring up some fun with your favorite mercenary” with a return address listed as ‘Hell’s Playground’ inscribed on the front.

It's awful. You haven’t missed one yet.

And not just because you’re a sucker for free booze and cheap decorations. It’s like tradition now, you can't have your perfect attendance streak cut off four years in. That's just bad manners.

Besides, this is the first year you’ve gotten to do a couples costume.

“I look fuckin’ ridiculous,” Logan mutters, deep voice laced with irritation as he messes with the wolf ears perched awkwardly on his head. “Can’t believe I let you drag me to this thing.”

You don’t turn to face him, but you can still see the frown tugging his lips down in your mind. Logan’s never been one for costumes, but his options were either dress up or stay home while you went and had fun without him.

He was dead set on staying at home for most of the day.

One look at the frilly white bloomers that came with your costume and he changed his tune.

“Quit being such a baby,” you toss over your shoulder, pouring your second cup of whatever Wade mixed together in the mini cauldron sitting on his bar. “You look great, babe.”

He really shouldn’t complain, his costume is barely a costume. An old flannel with the sleeves ripped off and some mangy jeans.

The fake ears and tail were a struggle and a half to get him on board with, but Logan’s all bark and no bite. He was more than willing to roll over and show you his belly after enough begging.

Logan scoffs, big hand pawing at your hip to drag you to his side. “You owe me for this,” he rumbles low in your ear, the playful threat sending a shiver down your spine.

“You’ll survive,” you tease, a smug grin spreading across your face as you tug playfully on the tail clipped to his belt loop. “Unless you wanted to switch?”

Logan’s eyes drag over your body shamelessly, all the way from the floppy sheep ears sitting on your head to the lacy white corset and matching bloomers that do little to hide your curves. 

You don’t miss the way his eyes darken, how he runs his tongue along the sharp point of his canines like he wants to sink his teeth into you.

It sends a familiar heat coursing through your veins, warming your insides just as much as the vodka with a hint of mixer you’ve been sipping at.

You start to wish you shelled out for the fake fangs at the party store.

Logan tugs you closer, his lips curling into a slow, predatory smirk. “Not a chance in hell,” he rasps, voice dipping a couple octaves lower. “Looks better on you, baby.”

You hum idly as his arm snakes around your waist, fingers splayed along your lower back, inching dangerously close to the swell of your ass.

“You better behave,” you chastise, though it’s more playful than stern as you look up at him through your lashes. “We’re in public.”

Logan’s grip tightens, a soft grunt leaving him as he leans in, nosing along the side of your face. “Doesn’t seem like much of a party when all I’m thinkin’ about is how fast I can get you outta this damn costume.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks, the warm puff of his breath over your skin makes your knees feel weak. You try to keep your cool, but it’s hard when he’s practically radiating heat and that intoxicating scent of leather and pine fills your senses. 

Before you can respond, a loud call of your name grabs your attention. 

"There you are!" Wade shouts from across the room, already making his way towards you.

All six foot two and half inches of him is wrapped in blue and white lace, paired with a matching hoop skirt that bounces with every step he takes. His shepherd's staff thuds against the floor when he comes to a stop in front of you. “Fashionably late, I see.”

“We’ve been here for thirty minutes,” you point out, brow cocked as you take in his costume. “Where’ve you been?”

“I’m the hostess with the mostest, honey bunny,” he says, throwing his arm out to gesture towards all the dressed up guests crammed into his living room. “Can’t spread myself too thin.”

He eyes Logan's wolf ears and fake tail, then turns back to you, wiggling his brows suggestively. 

"Kinky,” he comments, flicking the little gold bell hanging from the choker around your neck. “You two just couldn’t resist a little predator-prey roleplay, huh? Should I be worried about you getting all ‘Animal Planet’ on my couch?”

Logan’s grip on your waist tightens, his mouth brushing your ear as he mutters, “I’m gonna kill him before midnight.”

“Now, now, big bad wolf, no need to huff and puff and blow my skirt up. We’re all here to have a howl of a time!” Wade continues, undeterred. “Plus, if you behave, I might just let you keep your sheep when the night’s over.”

You can practically feel Logan’s eye twitch, but you snicker, leaning into him just a little more. “Play nice, Wade,” you say, trying to smother your laugh. “The wolf might eat you first.”

“Please,’ Wade snorts, twirling his shepherd's staff deftly in his hand. “If that’s on the table, I’ll lay out the fucking fine china.”

Logan lets out a huff of air, dropping his hold on you and brushing past Wade with a grunt. "I'm gettin' another beer."

“Try not to stab anyone!” Wade shouts after him, loud enough to be heard over the Monster Mash blaring from the speakers. “Al might blow the whole complex if any more blood gets on the linoleum!”

Logan throws a middle finger over his shoulder as he disappears into the kitchen. 

You watch him go, a grin plastered to your face at the way the tail swings with every step he takes. Something warm and fuzzy settles in your chest, blooming in the empty space of your ribcage.

You know Logan hates this–the people, the lights, the music, the costumes.

But he’s here anyway, for you.

Here wearing the stupid wolf costume you bought for him, surrounded by drunk people in inflatable dinosaur costumes and witches with dollar-store broomsticks. And despite all the grumbling, he hasn’t bolted for the door once.

All for you. And that makes your heart thump a little harder in your chest, your smirk softening into something sweeter.

"You’ve got him whipped," Wade deadpans, crossing his arms, the lace of his sleeves rustling as he does. “It’s really disgusting.”

You snort, shaking your head softly. "More like he's got a soft spot."

Wade eyes you skeptically. "Same thing, toots."

You hum noncommittally, turning back to him. “Cute outfit,” you comment, eyeing the white bonnet secured by a neat little bow under his chin.

“You like it?” Wade does a quick twirl, the blonde curls of his wig nearly slap you across the face as he does. “The guy at party city kept giving me weird looks, but I think he was just jealous of how well I fill in the blouse.”

You rake your gaze over him slowly, taking another slow sip from your cup. “The stockings are a nice touch, but don’t you think running around as Little Bo Peep will send some confusing messages.”

“Well, duh. That’s only the whole point, Sherlock.” Wade snorts, shaking his head like it’s obvious. “I’m way too emotionally invested in this relationship to not try and wiggle my way into throuple territory.”

You can’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes. “A throuple? Hate to break it to you, Peep, but Logan doesn’t really strike me as the sharing type.”

Wade leans in conspiratorially, cupping a hand around his mouth like he’s letting you in on a secret. “That’s why I’m playing the long game. Gotta wear him down with my irresistible charm, and when he finally snaps, I’ll swoop in with a bottle of Jack and a promise of no strings attached.”

You shake your head, chuckling into your drink. “You’ve got it all figured out, don't you?”

“Oh, honey,” Wade purrs, winking at you with a dramatic flutter of his lashes, “I've got a five-year plan.”

You roll your head to the side lazily, sheep ears swaying as you do. “I’ll give you points for persistence.”

"Damn straight," he says with a grin, straightening his bonnet proudly. “This level of commitment takes stamina. And by the way, I’ve got great stamina. My record is thirteen.”

You raise your brow, intrigued. “Thirteen what? Rounds? Hours?”

“Wouldn't you like to know,” he scoffs indignantly, rolling his eyes. “I’m more than just a pretty face in a killer dress, thank you very much.”

You groan, giving him a light push. "You’re impossible."

Wade grins, leaning closer to throw an arm around your shoulders. “I’m just pulling your tail, Wooly. You know I’d never come between you and your beefy boy toy. I mean, look at him. He’s practically pacing the kitchen like a caged animal just looking at you in your slutty nursery rhyme getup. How pathetic.”

You turn to steal a glance at Logan, who’s leaned against the counter scanning the room from behind his beer bottle. You feel a thrill at the idea that he’s watching over you like a hawk, making sure no one gets too close, slowly working himself up over the mere sight of you. 

But more than that, it’s the slight reluctant smirk tugging at his lips as he takes in the party. You can tell he’s managing to find some enjoyment in all this, even if he’d never admit it.

“Well,” Wade starts, dragging the word out slowly. “Since you’re all cozy over here with your alpha male, I’m gonna go find someone to share these…”

He holds up two shot glasses filled with some unidentifiable neon liquid, “…artisanal beverages with. Maybe that guy dressed like a merman. I’ve always wanted to see what's going on under those tails.”

You snort, raising your own cup to your lips. "You're awful."

“Only on the outside, sugar,” he says leaning down to kiss your cheek with a wet smack before flouncing away into the crowd, his skirt swishing as he goes. “Don’t fuck in my house without at least inviting me to watch!”

You laugh to yourself, watching as Wade fades into the crowd of gyrating bodies. You take another long sip, relishing in the familiar burn as it slips down your throat.

The laughter, the music, the chaotic energy of the party—it’s all intoxicating in its own right, but it’s nothing compared to the way Logan’s eyes are boring a hole through the back of your head.

You can feel his gaze like a tangible force, wrapping around you and drawing you in. Logan’s not just watching; he’s assessing, hungry for something that goes far beyond the Halloween festivities surrounding you.

The heat radiating from his gaze only intensifies your already buzzing anticipation, mixing dangerously with the two drinks swirling in your stomach, making you bolder.

You throw back the rest of your drink, setting the empty cup on the bar and making your way across the room. You weave through the crowd seamlessly, the music pulses around you, drowning out the laughter and chatter.

You feel a daring grin spread across your face as you saunter closer, reveling in the way Logan tracks your every move like a predator zeroing in on its prey. 

When you’re finally standing in front of him, you lean against the counter, giving him a good view of the way your corset dips lower. The fabric hugs you in all the right places, teasing him with glimpses of your skin beneath the delicate lace. 

"Looks like Little Bo Peep lost his sheep," he mutters, voice like gravel drenched in honey.

You smirk, tilting your head to the side innocently as you step around the counter. “Maybe I was already planning to run away, to go looking for a big bad wolf to play with.”

You slip two fingers through the belt loop at the front of his jeans, tugging him closer with a rough yank.

Logan’s goes willingly, taking a step closer. His breath hitches as he does, the hazel of his eyes darkening as you press your body against his, not letting an inch of space between you.

“You're really pushin it,” he warns lowly, hands finding your waist, fingers digging in hard enough to send a shiver cascading down your spine. "Makin’ me watch you run around in this fuckin’ thing.”

“Am I?” you reply coyly, fingers toying with the button of his jeans. “I’m just—” you start, but the words are swallowed by the thumping bass of the music as Logan’s lips crash against yours, silencing you with a hungry kiss.

His mouth moves against yours with a fervor that leaves you breathless, and you can’t help but melt into him, feeling the world around you fade away.

The taste of beer mingles with the vodka on your tongue as you sink into the kiss, his hands tightening around you as he pulls you even closer.

“You have no fuckin’ idea how hard it is keepin’ my hands to myself,” he murmurs against your lips, his breath hot and heavy. 

“Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea,” you tease, biting your lip as you pull back just enough to meet his gaze. You can see the fire smoldering in his eyes, the predatory glint that makes your stomach flutter with excitement. “But maybe you could show me just how hard it really is.”

Logan lets out a low growl, and before you can blink, he’s snatching your wrist up and dragging you through the kitchen. 

Laughter bubbles out from your chest as you trip over your own feet in an attempt to keep up with him. Adrenaline pulses through your veins, the warmth in your stomach dipping lower to leak sticky and wet between your thighs.

He’s not rushing, but there’s an undeniable urgency in his step, a raw need that makes your pulse race in sync with his heavy stride. Weaving you through the crowd and out into the hallway until the noise of the party gets lower and lower. 

You’re familiar enough with the layout of Wade’s place to know where Logan’s taking you, the bathroom.

The door is hardly shut before Logan’s spinning you around and crowding you against the sink. His lips are on you before you can even catch your breath, rough and possessive, as if he’s been starving for this all night. 

The kiss is rougher than before, dirty and all consuming as he claims your mouth. A mess of teeth and tongue and spit that sends your head spinning, body arching off the counter and into his instinctively. 

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he growls, trailing his lips down your neck, kissing and biting his way to your collarbone. “Drivin’ me so crazy, baby.”

You bite your lip, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as his calloused fingers trace over the swell of your breasts, kneading the soft flesh with a possessive grip that makes your breath hitch. 

Your arms circle his neck, dragging him down for more filthy kisses. The thick length of his cock pressing against your stomach insistently has you keening, a hard plane of scalding warmth even through the thick material of his jeans.

You let out a soft whimper as his fingers brush against your inner thigh, and he grins at your reaction.

He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. "Bet you’re already soaked for me, aren’t you?" His voice drops even lower, a filthy rasp that sends a jolt of heat straight to your core.

You don’t answer, can’t answer, because Logan’s already got his hand between your thighs, fingers teasing over the soft fabric of your bloomers.

His touch is feather-light, but it’s enough to have you gasping, head lolling back to expose even more of your neck to his fever hot lips.

He groans when he feels how soaked you are, his breath coming out in a rough exhale.

“Figures,” he grunts, his fingers pressing harder, rubbing slow circles over the slick fabric. “Could smell it on you from across the room. You’re fuckin’ drippin’ for me, baby.”

You whine, high in the back of your throat, chest heaving with every quick breath. Your legs spread, thighs widening like you can’t help it. His words send a wave of heat straight to your core, fanning the fire of need festering inside you. 

“Next year we’ll get you in a skirt,” he says, nipping at your bottom lip teasingly. His fingers slip under your bloomers, running through your slick folds teasingly. “Easy access.”

You let out a breathless moan, your hips bucking against his hand, begging for more.

“Logan,” you whimper, but he just smirks, applying more pressure with his palm as he leans in closer, his mouth hovering over your ear.

“You like that, don’t you?” Logan rasps, his voice thick with desire. Dark tone laced with satisfaction as he dips one finger inside you, making your breath catch in your throat. “Look at you, drippin’ down my hand. You want more, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you nod frantically, your breath coming in shallow pants as he continues working you with skilled, relentless touches.

Two thick fingers plunged in your aching pussy, his thumb rubbing over your swollen clit. "Please," you whimper, gripping the edge of the sink so tight your knuckles turn with it, needing more, needing him to ruin you. 

“Please what, honey?” he rasps, leaning in to press a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You gotta be more specific.”

You grind against his hand faster, desperate for any kind of relief from the unbearable heat building between your legs. “I need you,” you breathe out, your voice trembling. “Need you to fuck me.”

Logan’s response is immediate. A low growl tearing its way from his throat as he gives your bottoms a rough tug, letting them fall down the length of your legs to pool at your ankles.

He slips his fingers out of you, ignoring your displeased whine and spinning you around to face the mirror, hands gripping your hips as he roughly bends you over the sink.

You find his eyes in the reflection, and the hunger there makes your pulse quicken. His lips are swollen, red and slick just like your own. Hazel eyes blown out and stormy, as he meets your gaze.

The fake whiskers and nose you drew on him before the party using an old eyeliner pen are smudged across the lower half of his face along with the red remnants of your lipstick. You have matching black marks scuffed along your cheeks.

"You’re gonna watch while I fuck you," he growls, popping the button of his jeans and pulling them down just enough to free his cock. He strokes himself once, twice, before lining up behind you, dragging the blunt head along your soaked entrance. "Don’t take your eyes off the mirror, baby. I want you to see what you do to me, what I get to see every fuckin’ time."

You nod breathlessly, eyes locked on his in the mirror as he pushes into you with one hard thrust. You gasp at the stretch, head falling to your chin at the pleasant burn of his cock.

"Fuck," Logan groans, his eyes glued to your reflection as he bottoms out inside you, the sheer size of him making your body tremble.

"Tight little fuckin’ pussy," he mutters, his grip on your hips tightening as he starts to move, setting a brutal, unrelenting pace. "You were made for this, weren’t you? Made to take my cock."

You can’t stop the moans that fall from your slack lips, pathetic little uh uh uh sounds that get punched out of you with every sharp thrust of his hips.

“Take me so fuckin’ well,” he growls, one hand coming up to grip around your throat, tugging meanly at the bell of your choker that rings as he pounds into you, each thrust harder than the last. “Such a good little sheep, lettin’ your mean old wolf fuck you like this.”

 "Fuck," you moan, the sound broken and desperate as he drives deeper, the thick length of him hitting that spot that has your knees buckling beneath you. “God, Logan…”

“Look,” Logan commands softly, reverently. His lips brushing your shoulder with every word as he tilts your head back up to the mirror, making yourself watch as you take his cock. “Look at how fuckin’ pretty you are getting wrecked on my cock.”

Your reflection in the mirror is a mess—flushed cheeks, eyes glassy with lust, your lips parted in a constant stream of breathless moans. You feel embarrassment mixing with the arousal swirling through your stomach, thighs shaking wildly from the onslaught of pleasure.

The loud slap of skin on skin rings through the tiny bathroom, underscored by the wet gush of your pussy around him each time he buries himself in you.

If anyone were to walk by, they’d surely hear it. They’d know someone was getting fucked, really taking it. The thought alone has you tightening around Logan’s cock, velvety walls clenching around him desperately. 

Logan notices, because of course he does, clever eyes picking up on the way your own drift to the door, lingering.

He threads his fingers through your hair, meanly yanking your head back to the mirror, a feral grin stretching across his face as he watches the way you fall apart for him. 

“Want me to howl for you, baby?” he teases, breath hot against the shell of your ear. You can feel the way his lips curve into an evil grin at the pathetic whine that bursts from your lips, at the feel of your pussy drooling around him even more than before.  

“She likes that, huh?” he chuckles darkly, his thumb finds your throbbing clit, rubbing tight circles as his hips speed up impossibly faster. “Dirty fuckin’ girl, you want everyone to know how good I’m givin’ it to you?”

You whimper, overwhelmed by the raw intensity of his words and the rhythm of his thrusts. Your thighs are trembling, barely able to hold you up as Logan takes you apart, piece by piece, with every deep, punishing stroke.

"Answer me," he growls, voice dripping with dominance as his hips snap against you, the head of his cock slamming into that perfect spot inside you again and again. "You want everyone to hear what a dirty little slut you are for me, huh? You want them to know how much you love being fucked like this?"

“Yes,” you gasp, your voice shaky and breathless as pleasure floods your system. "Yes, Logan, fuck—ah! Just—just don’t stop."

Logan growls, low and feral deep in his chest. It shakes through your body, rattling your bones just as much as the heavy smack of his metal laced pelvis against the raw skin of your ass.

“Greedy fuckin’ pussy, I can feel the way she’s sucking me in, baby,” he grits out, hips stuttering slightly. “She want my come, darlin’?"

You’re a mess of gasps and whimpers, nodding frantically as his words push you closer to the edge. Throwing your hips back to meet his thrusts as the spring inside you coils tighter and tighter, a hair's breadth away from snapping.

"Yes, please, Logan," you moan, your fingers digging into the counter as you brace yourself for the relentless onslaught of his cock. "I want it, want you to come inside me." 

Logan’s hips stutter as he slams into you, his cock buried so deep inside you it feels like he’s splitting you in half. He’s close, his breath coming out in ragged pants as his hand tightens around your throat, fingers pressing against your pulse just hard enough to make you dizzy.

“You’re gonna come for me,” he growls, heavy balls slapping against your ass lewdly. “Gonna come all over my cock, aren’t you? And then I’m gonna fill you up. Gonna fuck my come so deep inside you, you’ll be beggin’ me to give you more.”

That’s all it takes for the coil in your belly to snap, pleasure surging through you in hot, uncontrollable waves. You cry out, your vision blurring as your body clenches around him, and Logan lets out a rough growl, driving into you harder, faster. 

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow, dragging out every last second of your orgasm until you’re shaking, your voice hoarse from how loud you’re moaning.

“Goddamn, baby,” he mutters, his voice thick with lust as he keeps fucking into your trembling body. “You’re squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight—gonna come so deep in you.”

Your breath is coming in short, desperate gasps, your entire body still shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm. But Logan isn’t finished. He used the fistful of your hair still trapped in his hand, tugging your head back to meet his wild gaze in the mirror. 

“Eyes on me,” he commands, his pace growing erratic. “You want me to fill you up? Want me to come in this tight little pussy?”

“Yes, Logan,” you manage to choke out, your voice barely a whisper. “Please—I need it.”

With a deep, broken groan of your name, Logan slams into you one last time, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you, hot and thick. His fingers tighten on your throat, and you moan at the feeling of his cock pulsing, filling you up to the brim. 

You can’t stop the whine that falls from your lips at the feel of his come spraying your insides, completely drenching you with it. So much that it just has to take.

A shudder runs through you at the idea, pussy clenching around his spent cock weakly.

Logan sighs contently, dropping his head to rest on your shoulder as he catches his breath, hands falling to your waist like it's the only anchor keeping him from floating away entirely.

For a moment, the only sounds in the room are your ragged breaths and the faint thump of the music outside bleeding through the walls.

Logan tips his head back up, meeting your hazy eyes in the fogged up glass of the mirror with a shit-eating grin. “Happy fuckin’ Halloween,” he says smugly, dropping a kiss to the sweaty skin of your shoulder. 

You huff, rolling your eyes with a reluctant fondness. The thought of walking back out there makes your stomach turn, nerves and arousal churning together at the chance that everyone knows what you two were doing after disappearing for so long.

You only hope the white fabric of your bloomers is good enough at hiding the come already leaking from your pussy.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[buttercuparry]

It is deeply sickening how even privacy has become a luxury for palestinians who are fundraising on this website. Since October 7th, Gazans have had to document their own genocide at great cost to themselves for no fault of their own;  they have had to risk their lives to show you the bombings; they have had to record themselves bleeding. 

They have had to show the tremendous personal loss they have suffered and their grief of it - all so that the Zionist narrative wouldn't be the only thing that gets peddled around in the digital space. But it seems like the more the months pass, and the atrocities keep mounting - the more people in the online space become desensitized to the suffering, and in fact are convinced that they are owed these documentation to even begin to care ( it has become especially clear after the recent smear campaign that put the entire demographic under horrible scrutiny ). 

It is honestly so disgustingly voyeuristic to me- this demand to be allowed into someone’s grief so that you can be convinced that they too are of flesh and blood, to demand that they put their suffering on display for your judgement on their authenticity, to put the burden on THEM to do the work of breaking you out of your easy apathy towards their suffering.

For months, my friend Siraj Abudayeh ( @siraj2024 ) has tried to protect his and his family’s privacy. For months he has talked of Gaza and given you updates as is his capacity as a journalist. He thought that this would be enough for the people to understand just how much his family has to fight everyday to survive. But it seems like that didn't really cut it for a lot of users on tumblr, because his fundraiser stagnates every 12 hours when his updates stop circulating around tumblr. 

So as much as it pains him to share this with an apathetic audience that may very well scroll past this post- he has agreed to talk a bit about his precious son, Amir, who has fallen sick with an infectious skin disease. 

So don't you dare ignore this!!

You have demanded that Siraj perform; that he prove that he is a real person with a real family to protect- so here is Siraj with a story about his son. It is a reflection of how desperate he feels to willingly give up the privacy he fought to protect for months. So you better pay attention now!

Siraj's son Amir is a stubborn boy. It is impossible to move him from his position once he is convinced of something. This also makes him competitive and Siraj is proud to say that Amir had been on his school’s swimming team. “First level in the swimming course,” Siraj tells me with obvious pride. Amir has an exceptional ability to memorize too- quickly moving through his lessons and thus almost always having a place in the school celebrations of outstanding students. 

Amir is stubbornly kind too. Amidst the bombings - this little boy didn't think of only saving himself. He carried his cat Jimmy all the way from the North of Gaza to the South. In Siraj’s words: He did not leave Jimmy for a moment, not even to take his shoes off, when it tore after hours of walking. 

The two month old cat died a month into their displacement - with no food available, Amir had to watch his beloved pet waste away, desperate and yet unable to help in anyway. Tell me now, is this horrifying tidbit sufficient documentation of Amir’s unchilding? Is this enough? 

Or do you also want to know of the shock Amir received on learning that his cousins have been martyred? Will you make Siraj describe this in all of its horrifying detail too? How his child has lost so much of his childhood to this war when he should be studying, going to school, and playing with his brothers and friends instead?

Their books, their school, their pet, their toys have all been lost in this genocide. Do they have to lay out all the indignities they are facing at your feet, do they have to lose the litle privacy they have left in that cramped, pest-ridden tent of theirs to convince you to not turn the other way?

Tell me what will finally be enough to make you pay attention?? What would be enough to convince you that Siraj’s survival fund is as much an emergency as all the other evacuation funds ?? I will ask him to share and we can all lay it out for you, because apparently some of you need a record of all that suffering presented to you like its a portfolio to give a fuck.

Siraj is tired, his wife Halima is too. Amir and his siblings have lost so much of themselves during these past 10 months. None of them are the people they used to be, and it is something they will carry for the rest of their lives!!

So please!

Please if Siraj has performed enough for you, then fucking donate to his campaign.

He has been fundraising from June!!! He has talked to hundreds of people and has bonded with enough of them to be considered a personal friend of theirs. Many have even agreed to share his story and many others have offered to hold commissions and raffles for him- but despite this, he still hasn't even crossed the halfway mark of his campaign yet!! What can a handful of friends do? When the mass of tumblr population isn't convinced of his suffering!

Amir is in constant pain right now due to the infection- and his brothers are beginning to show similar symptoms as him. They are all very unwell. 

The money would go to helping Amir and his brothers survive!!

I can't tell you how frustrating it is to see this everyday when i personally know just how much Siraj sacrifices to make his presence known here- from braving the 3km route when he can get caught in crossfire- all so that he may have a hotspot connection at an exorbitant price. It burns away the money that might have gone into acquiring food and water.

WE ARE RUNNING OUT OF TIME!!!

SIRAJ NEEDS TO GET TO 40K WITHIN THIS WEEK SO THAT WE CAN BEGIN TO WORK TOWARDS THE LATTER HALF OF THE CAMPAIGN.

THIS IS URGENT. SIRAJ NEEDS TO MOVE ONTO HIS NEXT GOALS AS SOON AS POSSIBLE TO GET HIS KIDS TO SAFETY!

PLEASE DONATE ANY AMOUNT YOU CAN SPARE, THIS CANNOT WAIT.

Every MINUTE, every  SECOND we delay meeting his goal, it costs siraj and his family more than some of us will ever understand.

Please help him out. It is the least we can do right now-> vetting at 219 on Hussein's spreadsheet.