#global study dream

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[wagconts]

𝐅inally a yes | Charles Leclerc

summary :: Where you finally accept Charles' proposal.

word count :: 1.090 words.

It was hard to believe that Formula 1 had become your life. Since you were little, fast cars and the stories behind the drivers had always fascinated you. Growing up in a family where Sunday mornings meant mandatory race-watching certainly helped. But simply watching wasn’t enough—you wanted to be there, part of that world. That desire drove you to study sports journalism, always with the goal of one day covering the pinnacle of motorsport.

Your first big break came when a small European motorsports website hired you to cover the junior categories. During that time, you met Charles Leclerc. He was on the rise, racing in Formula 2 and impressing everyone with his talent. Although you didn’t spend much time together back then, Charles had a charisma that was hard to ignore. He was kind, polite, but with a hint of sarcastic humor that made every conversation unforgettable.

You were always in front of him, the interviewer. It wasn’t intentional; you were simply following orders. But soon, you became a familiar face to Leclerc—not just your face, but your name as well.

Years later, your dedication finally led you to what once seemed like an unattainable dream: working directly with Formula 1. Now, as a reporter for a global network, you traveled the world covering races. Life was hectic and full of challenges, but one thing—or rather, one person—made everything even more complicated: Charles Leclerc.

From the day you crossed paths with Charles again in the paddock, he never missed a chance to start a conversation. At first, it was just quick remarks between interviews, casual exchanges. But over time, Charles became more direct, throwing in flirtatious comments disguised as jokes.

— You know you can interview any driver, yet you keep coming back to me. It’s fate, ma chérie — he’d say with that confident smile that made you laugh despite yourself, even as you rolled your eyes in response.

Your friends in the paddock quickly picked up on the dynamic between the two of you, especially Gasly and Norris, who never missed an opportunity to tease.

— Charles, how many times are you going to get turned down before you give up? — Pierre would mock, while Lando chimed in: — I think he likes the challenge. More exciting than overtaking Max on track.

You’d just shake your head, trying to ignore their comments, but sometimes you couldn’t help but laugh, which only encouraged Gasly and Norris further. To them, your laughter was like a sign—one that you weren’t entirely shutting Charles out.

This wasn’t the first time, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Despite Charles’ countless attempts, you always had a ready excuse for not accepting his invitations: work, commitments, exhaustion... But deep down, the real reason was fear—fear of complicating your already chaotic life. Mixing work and romance wasn’t a path you wanted to tread lightly.

Everything changed during the Monaco GP. It was the most glamorous race on the calendar, and the city’s atmosphere seemed to conspire for something different. Charles, of course, seized the moment.

— You’re in Monaco, my city, and you still haven’t seen the best spots. I think it’s the perfect time to finally say yes — he said, wearing that confident look that always threw you off balance.

For some reason, your mind worked differently that day. Lately, you’d been wondering what might happen if you did accept one of Charles’ invitations. A thought struck you like a pang in your heart: you’d never know what could truly happen unless you gave it a chance.

— Alright, Charles. I’ll go. But only because you won’t stop insisting. — Liar.

His grin was so wide it was like he’d just won a race. — You won’t regret it, I promise.

When you finally saw yourself in the mirror wearing that dress, it hit you—you had agreed to a date with none other than Charles Leclerc. If someone had told you this back in the Formula 2 days, you’d never have believed them.

Charles made sure to plan everything. He picked you up at the hotel, dressed in a crisp white shirt that was both stylish and casual, contrasting with the excitement in his expression. The destination? A small seaside restaurant, far from Monaco’s bustling crowds.

— I wanted a place where we could really talk, without distractions — he explained as you walked to a table overlooking the water.

— That’s exactly what I had in mind for this... outing — you smiled.

— Away from the media?

— Definitely.

The conversation flowed naturally. Charles shared stories about his childhood in Monaco, how he started racing, and the challenges he’d faced along the way. You, in turn, talked about how your passion for Formula 1 began and the behind-the-scenes aspects of your job.

— I’ve always admired your determination — he said, his tone suddenly serious. — Not only did you make it into this world, but you’ve stood out. That’s not easy, especially for someone so... captivating.

You felt your cheeks heat up at the compliment, but before you could respond, Charles shifted the mood with a playful comment about how he deserved credit for being so persistent in getting you to that dinner.

After the meal, Charles suggested a walk along the harbor. The night was clear, and the city seemed to glow even brighter under the moonlight. He led you to a quieter spot where yachts were anchored, away from the main activity.

— Did you know my first karting win happened right here? — he said, pointing to a spot near the harbor. — I was just a kid, but that day changed everything for me.

— Maybe tonight will change everything too — you replied without thinking, immediately regretting it when you saw the smile spreading across Charles’ face.

Charles stepped closer, shaking his head. — Maybe it will.

The silence that followed was broken only by the sound of waves lapping against the boats. Before you could say anything, Charles leaned in slightly, his gaze locked on yours.

— May I? — he asked, his voice low, filled with anticipation.

You nodded, and the kiss that followed was soft yet meaningful, as if all the tension between you had finally found its resolution.

That night, something truly changed. For the first time, you stopped resisting how you felt about him.

[mohammedsaqrr]

Help my family survive the continuing war in gaza

Hello, my name is Mohammed Saqr, from North Gaza.

we want dreams and love for life like any young person in the world. I joined Al-Quds Open University to fulfill my dream of studying like any young person in the world, but it seems that I will not be able to achieve my dream because of the brutal war on the Gaza Strip, which destroyed our entire house, and I lost everything I owned and relied on to achieve my dream, including my laptop, university books and library.

We are a family of 12, displaced from our home in North Gaza to the southern areas under inhumane conditions.

This is my daughter, who grew up in the middle of the war, no kid should go through this kind of childhood and trauma. its unfair and we can’t do anything about it to give our kids the lovely childhood that they deserve.

I am appealing to you, the global community, for help. I have started a GoFundMe campaign with the aim of raising 30,000 Euros to enable me and my family to find safety in Egypt. The evacuation fees change from time to time; we currently expect a cost of between 4,000-5,000 dollars per person. Any additional funds generated will go towards supporting my immediate needs and those of my family. There are various obstacles that we will face on the other side, and I hope that we can make some things easier for us.

I would like to update you on the situation now that the war has intensified. We are fine and safe, but life has become very difficult now all around us, people are suffering more and losing loved ones every day. As a family, we have literally lost everything we own, our homes and businesses, but we are trying to remain optimistic by thinking about evacuating and we heard good news today that the borders may open soon. We pray that this is true.

Once we are evacuated, we will try hard to rebuild a small part of what we lost in Gaza. If we can achieve our ultimate goal, we will have the funds to start a business to support our entire family. We want to be able to start over and not suffer anymore in Egypt. If everyone can help us with a small donation to achieve our ultimate goal, we will be able to rebuild our lives after everything was destroyed.

All the positive words cannot express how generous you are especially in sharing my posts to inform other donors about the people of Gaza who are still suffering from the terrible conditions caused by the unjust war on Gaza. Please continue to support the most just cause in the world either by donating directly or by sharing the link to other media. Do not hesitate to help people in difficult and miserable times until the dark days are over.

[venusinmyrrh]

You said you love a good fashion doc- do you have any more to recommend?

Designers and tastemakers

Very Ralph (2019). The preeminent American designer of our time, one of the very few who can stand toe to toe with the titans of Paris and Milan. To call Ralph Lauren's work "sportswear" is to call the Sistine Chapel "kind of a big painting".

Halston (2019). Speaking of going head to head with Paris, Halston did it first. Skip Ultrasuede-- this is a much better doc about the king of American 70s disco glam.

McQueen (2018). When people talk about fashion as an art form, chances are they're thinking of Alexander McQueen. Worth watching for the pulse-pounding runway shows alone.

Westwood: Punk, Icon, Activist (2018). Obviously you already know about this one, but it's gotta go on any comprehensive list. Without Vivienne Westwood, punk would have been nothing but a handful of noisy assholes.

Diana Vreeland: The Eye Has to Travel (2011). My icon, my north star, my personal hero. The empress of taste and high priestess of personal style. Watch this doc whenever you need encouragement to do and wear whatever the hell you want.

The Gospel According to André (2017). Diana Vreeland's protegé and a godfather of style in his own right. If it happened in fashion in the last fifty years, André Leon Talley was there for it.

Lagerfeld Confidential (2007). I have a high tolerance for difficult and unpleasant people as long as I like their work. Your mileage may vary, but Karl Lagerfeld's immaculate, relentless taste cannot be denied.

Institutions and events

The First Monday in May (2016). Witness all the hustle, bustle, savvy, and stress that goes into planning the Met gala!

The September Issue (2009). Same as the above, but for the famous September issue of Vogue. Watch this to learn who Grace Coddington is.

Dior and I (2014). How do haute couture collections get made? In 8 weeks from start to finish, I guess, if you're Raf Simons during his first season at the House of Dior. A documentary and a thriller.

Scatter My Ashes at Bergdorf's (2013). No matter what other retailers might want you to think, Bergdorf Goodman is the last great department store. A portrait, already halfway to a time capsule, of what luxury shopping used to be.

Peripheral, but may be of interest

Nose (2021). The passionate, delicate art of perfume creation for the House of Dior. The French landscapes where they source their materials will make you swoon.

Larger Than Life: The Kevyn Aucoin Story (2017). As the makeup artist to pretty much every single icon of the 80s and 90s, Kevyn Aucoin invented the image of that era as much as any designer.

Fabergé: A Life of Its Own (2014). Come for the dazzling jewels and sumptuous objets d'art; stay to find out how this illustrious name ended up on hair care products in the 70s.

Crazy About Tiffany's (2016). Another luxury jeweler whose name alone is the stuff dreams are made on.

Bill Cunningham New York (2010). The original street style photographer, since before "street style" was even a thing. A love letter to curiosity, and a testament to the power of taking an interest in the world around us.

Still on my watchlist

Salvatore: Shoemaker of Dreams (2020). Directed by Luca Guadagnino, which is enough to put this Ferragamo doc at the top of my list.

Advanced Style (2014). Portraits of seven women aged 62-95 with truly fab personal style. Top Letterboxd review is seething about how out of touch they are with the real world, which means I am probably gonna love it.

Suited (2016). A study of gender through clothing in modern culture.

Dries (2017). A year-- and four collections-- in the life of Dries Van Noten, who, interestingly, doesn't see the point of clothes that people can't buy to wear, and so does not do couture.

Yellow is Forbidden (2018). This doc about Guo Pei appears to use her career as a framework to understand the gatekeeping of global culture by the West. Dope as hell, if it can pull it off.

American Style (2019). The political, social, and economic history of America through its fashion. Another one that could be really awesome if done with insight and panache.

Quant (2021). She may share the credit for inventing the miniskirt with two other people, but it cannot be argued that Mary Quant invented 1960s Swinging London. And for that we say thank you Dame Mary.

[gracie-eilish]

oh my my my…

🌙💚✨🎄🥂

summary: you’ve been in love with your best friend claire’s older sister you’re whole life. but she never saw you as anything more than her little sisters awkward best friend. or so she thought… until you come home from college one semester and billie comes home from tour at the same time… and things are different.

a/n: billie is 24 in this and reader and claire are 21. billie is still billie, just add in claire with her and finneas. you and the o’connells have a close dynamic so it’s not weird for you to hang with the family while claire goes to bed or vice versa when she is at your house;) you haven’t seen billie since maybe she was 19 (touring and college kept you apart)

alsoooo i love hot older sister billie!! would you guys want like a prelude to this??

The house smelled like cinnamon and pine, the familiar warmth of the holidays wrapping around me as I lounged on the O’Connell family couch. Claire and I were sprawled out like we always were, eating snacks and laughing at cheesy Christmas movies. The glow from the tree lights reflected off the glasses of festive cocktails Maggie had let us make. It felt like old times—just Claire and me, like nothing had changed.

Except everything had changed.

We were both 21 now, adults in every sense of the word. College had shaped us into versions of ourselves we’d only dreamed of becoming as teenagers. Claire was thriving, confident and bubbly as ever, while I had finally grown into myself. I felt like the clumsy, awkward little kid who used to trail after Claire, Billie, and Finneas was long gone. I was finally… me.

But I hadn’t seen Billie in years.

She’d been busy touring, winning awards, and becoming a global icon while I was figuring out my life at school. And, if I was honest with myself, I was glad for the distance. For years, I’d been so hopelessly in love with her that it hurt. But somewhere between the late-night study sessions and messy dorm-room heartbreaks, I convinced myself I’d moved on.

Until today.

The door swung open with a flourish, the chilly December air rushing in as Billie stepped inside.

“Billie!” Claire yelled, launching herself off the couch and tackling her sister in a hug. The room filled with laughter and the sound of their excited chatter, but I stayed back, my drink clutched in my hands, watching them.

And then Billie’s eyes found mine.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop.

She looked the same but different—older, more mature, with that same air of effortless cool that had always made my stomach flutter. Her black hair, now long and layered, framed her face perfectly. Her jawline was sharp enough to cut glass, her light blue eyes intense and unreadable as they swept over me.

And I couldn’t help but notice the way her breath hitched for just a fraction of a second.

“Y/N?” she said, her voice lower than I remembered, like velvet.

“Hi, Billie,” I said, standing and giving her a small smile.

I could feel her gaze linger as I crossed the room to give her a polite hug. It was quick, casual—nothing out of the ordinary—but the way her hand brushed my back sent a shiver up my spine.

“You look… different,” Billie said, her voice almost hesitant as she pulled back.

“Yeah, well, it’s been a few years,” I said, tucking a strand of my short hair behind my ear. Her eyes flicked to the movement, lingering on my face for just a moment too long.

Claire pulled Billie into the kitchen, breaking the tension, and I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. She was just Claire’s sister. That’s all she was. Nothing more.

Except when she joined us in the living room, the air shifted.

We settled back into the couch, Billie now sitting next to me. The scent of her perfume—something woodsy and sweet—wrapped around me, making my head spin. She smelled… grown-up. Different from how I remembered.

Then again, everything about her felt different.

As we watched the movie, Billie kept sneaking glances at me. I could feel her eyes on me, the weight of her attention making my skin tingle. I tried to focus on the screen, but it was impossible. Every move she made, every small laugh or casual brush of her arm against mine, sent my mind spiraling.

Eventually, Claire yawned dramatically and stretched. “Alright, I’m beat,” she said, standing and heading toward the stairs. “Don’t stay up too late, you two.”

The door to her room clicked shut, and suddenly it was just Billie and me.

The silence was deafening.

I shifted on the couch, my leg brushing against hers accidentally, and the contact sent a jolt through me. “So,” I said, clearing my throat, “how’s life been? You know, with the whole being a global superstar thing.”

Billie chuckled softly, her voice low and warm. “It’s… a lot. But it’s good. I missed this, though. Being home.” Her eyes softened as she looked at me. “And seeing everyone again.”

I felt my cheeks heat under her gaze. “Yeah, it’s nice to be back,” I said, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The only sound was the faint hum of the movie in the background.

“You’ve really changed, Y/N,” Billie said suddenly, her voice quiet but firm.

I glanced at her, my heart pounding. “Good change or bad change?”

Her lips quirked into a small smile. “Good change. Definitely good change.”

The way she looked at me then—like she was seeing me for the first time—made my breath catch. It was so different from the way she used to look at me when we were kids, when I was just Claire’s little best friend. Now, there was something else in her gaze. Something I couldn’t quite place but couldn’t ignore.

I tore my eyes away, trying to steady myself. “You’ve changed too,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Billie leaned back, studying me with an intensity that made my pulse race. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I said, meeting her eyes. “But you’re still… you.”

Her lips parted slightly, like she was about to say something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, she reached for the remote and turned off the movie, leaving us in silence.

The tension between us was palpable, the kind you could feel in your chest, heavy and overwhelming. For years, I’d dreamed of being this close to her, of having her attention like this. And now that it was happening, I didn’t know what to do.

“So,” Billie said after a moment, her voice soft, “are you seeing anyone?”

The question caught me off guard. “No,” I said quickly, my heart skipping a beat. “Not right now.”

Her eyes flicked to mine, something unreadable in her gaze. “Good.”

The word hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning.

I swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. But before I could think of anything, Billie shifted closer, her knee brushing against mine.

“You know,” she said, her voice low, “it’s weird seeing you like this. All grown up.”

I felt my cheeks flush, but I forced myself to meet her gaze. “Is that a good weird or a bad weird?” I squeaked out, basically repeating my earlier question.

Her lips curved into a slow, almost lazy smile, laughing at my obvious nerves. “Good weird,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Billie tilted her head, her dark hair falling over one shoulder as she studied me with a curious expression. “You cut your hair,” she said, gesturing toward my short hair. “You swore you’d never cut it. You would practically cry at the thought of getting your haircut even a tiny bit when you were little.”

I giggled a bit as I shrugged, feigning nonchalance even though her attention was making my pulse race. “People change.”

“Yeah,” Billie murmured, her voice soft, almost thoughtful. “You definitely have.”

Her eyes lingered on me, sharp and unrelenting, like she was trying to piece together every little detail she’d missed over the years. Finally, her gaze dropped to my ears, her lips twitching into a slight smirk.

“And the piercings?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Who are you, and what did you do with little Y/N? I never thought you’d get more than just one little stud on each ear.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, though the sound came out shakier than I intended. “I’ve been collecting them over the years. Do you not like them?”

Billie’s smile softened, her voice dropping an octave. “No, I do. They suit you.”

She leaned in slightly, her dark eyes glinting with curiosity as she inspected the small, sparkling studs and hoops lining my ears. My breath hitched as her face drew closer, her scent filling the space between us. Her fingers reached out, brushing against the shell of my ear as she tucked a strand of my hair behind it, revealing the stack of earrings.

Billie chuckled softly, the sound low and warm, and for a moment, I thought I saw something flicker in her expression—something far from casual. Her hand lingered near my face, her thumb grazing my jawline before retreating, almost as if she realized what she was doing.

“You’ve really grown up, Y/N,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s… new. Seeing you like this.”

The air between us was thick with tension, the kind that made my chest feel tight and my heart pound so hard I was sure she could hear it. Billie’s hand moved again, this time trailing through the ends of my short hair. She toyed with a strand, her fingers grazing my neck as she twirled it absentmindedly.

“This,” she said softly, her voice almost too quiet to hear. “It looks good on you. The short hair. I didn’t think I’d like it, but… I do.”

I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I just nodded, my throat tight as her fingers lingered, her touch light but deliberate.

“I’m serious,” Billie continued, her tone shifting, becoming almost reverent. “You’re not the same little kid who used to follow Claire and me around. You’re… different now. In a good way.”

My breath hitched as her hand dropped from my hair to my shoulder, her thumb brushing against my collarbone. She was so close now, her knee pressing lightly against mine, her dark eyes locked on mine like she was searching for something.

“Billie…” I started, but my voice faltered.

She tilted her head, her lips twitching into the faintest of smiles. “Yeah?” she asked, her voice so soft it sent a shiver down my spine.

“I…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. The tension between us was too much, the weight of it pressing down on me until I couldn’t think straight.

And then Billie closed the distance.

Her lips brushed against mine, soft and tentative at first, like she was testing the waters. But when I didn’t pull away—when I leaned in instead, my hands gripping the fabric of her hoodie—she kissed me fully, her lips warm and firm against mine.

The world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of us in the dimly lit living room. Her hand slid up to cup my face, her fingers threading gently through the ends of my short hair as she deepened the kiss. It was slow and deliberate, like she was taking her time, savoring every moment.

When we finally pulled back, both of us were breathless, her forehead resting against mine. Neither of us said a word, the silence heavy but comfortable as her thumb brushed gently over my cheek.

“You really have grown up,” Billie whispered, her voice barely audible.

And just like that, everything between us had changed.

🌙💚✨🎄🥂

[probablyasocialecologist]

Degrowth basics

"The word degrowth stands for a family of political-economic approaches that, in the face of today’s accelerating planetary ecological crisis, reject unlimited, exponential economic growth as the definition of human progress."

What is Degrowth? | Caracol DSA

Why degrowth is the only responsible way forward | OpenDemocracy

Degrowth and MMT: A thought experiment

We Need A Fair Way To End Infinite Growth | Current Affairs

Degrowth: A Call for Radical Abundance | Common Dreams

Can degrowth save us and the planet? | Nottingham Trent

Defending limits is not Malthusian | Undisciplined Environments

Can We Have Prosperity Without Growth? | New Yorker

The Urgent Case for Shrinking the Economy | The New Republic

Giving Up on Economic Growth Could Make Us Cooler and Happier | The New Republic

A guide to degrowth: The movement prioritizing wellbeing in a bid to avoid climate cataclysm | CNBC

What is ‘degrowth’ and how can it fight climate change? | Popular Science

Enough for Everyone | Yes! Magazine

Toward a Post-Capitalist Future: On the Growth of “Degrowth” | Lit Hub

All we are saying is give degrowth a chance | The RSA

A pathway out of environmental collapse | newsroom

On Technology and Degrowth | Monthly Review

What is degrowth (and more importantly, what is it not)? | META

Green growth

"There is no empirical evidence that absolute decoupling from resource use can be achieved on a global scale against a background of continued economic growth."

Is Green Growth Possible? | Jason Hickel & Giorgos Kallis

The Myth of America’s Green Growth | Foreign Policy

The decoupling delusion: rethinking growth and sustainability | The Conversation

Is green growth happening? | Uneven Earth

Green Growth | Uneven Earth

The Delusion of Infinite Economic Growth | Scientific American

Degrowth is not austerity – it is actually just the opposite | Al Jazeera

A response to Paul Krugman: Growth is not as green as you might think | Timothée Parrique

Deceitful Decoupling: Misconceptions of a Persistent Myth | Alevgul H. Sorman

Degrowth isn’t the same as a recession – it’s an alternative to growing the economy forever | The Conversation

Degrowth and the left

"In the middle of an ecological emergency, should we be producing sport utility vehicles and mansions? Should we be diverting energy to support the obscene consumption and accumulation of the ruling class?"

The Left should embrace degrowth | New Internationalist

Ecosocialism is the Horizon, Degrowth is the Way | The Trouble

Degrowth: Socialism without Growth | Brave New Europe

Toward an Ecosocialist Degrowth: From the Materially Inevitable to the Socially Desirable | Monthly Review

For an Ecosocialist Degrowth | Monthly Review

Degrowth and Revolutionary Organizing | Rosa Luxemburg NYC

The necessity of ecosocialist degrowth | Rupture

Degrowth is Anti-Capitalist | Protean Mag

Degrowth Communism | PPPR (Part one | Part two | Part three)

Economic Planning and Degrowth: How Socialism Survives the 21st Century | New Socialist

Degrowth and the South

"Southern countries should be free to organize their resources and labor around meeting human needs rather than around servicing Northern growth."

Who is afraid of degrowth? A Global South economic perspective | IBON Foundation

The anti-colonial politics of degrowth | Jason Hickel

Unlearning: From Degrowth to Decolonization | Rosa Luxemburg NYC

Degrowth requires the Global South to default on its foreign debts | Resilience

Journals/Reports

Degrowth: a theory of radical abundance | Jason Hickel

A systematic review of the evidence on decoupling of GDP, resource use and GHG emissions, part II: synthesizing the insights

What does degrowth mean? A few points of clarification | Jason Hickel

Providing decent living with minimum energy: A global scenario | Global Environmental Change

Urgent need for post-growth climate mitigation scenarios | Nature Energy

Degrowth and critical agrarian studies | Julien-François Gerber

Decoupling debunked – Evidence and arguments against green growth as a sole strategy for sustainability | European Environmental Bureau

Incrementum ad Absurdum: Global Growth, Inequality and Poverty Eradication in a Carbon-Constrained World | David Woodward

Degrowth can work — here’s how science can help | Nature

A New Political Economy for a Healthy Planet | Jason Hickel

Planning beyond growth. The case for economic democracy within limits

Millionaire spending incompatible with 1.5 °C ambitions | Cleaner Production Letters

Is green growth happening? An empirical analysis of achieved versus Paris-compliant CO2–GDP decoupling in high-income countries | The Lancet

Books

Exploring Degrowth: A Critical Guide | Pluto Press

A People's Green New Deal | Max Ajl

Less is More: How Degrowth Will Save the World | Jason Hickel

Breaking Things at Work: The Luddites Are Right About Why You Hate Your Job | Verso Books

The Future is Degrowth: A Guide to a World Beyond Capitalism | Verso Books

The Imperial Mode of Living: Everyday Life and the Ecological Crisis of Capitalism | Verso Books

Marx in the Anthropocene: Towards the Idea of Degrowth Communism | Kohei Saito

Degrowth & Strategy: how to bring about social-ecological transformation

27 Essays and Thoughts on Degrowth | Giorgos Kallis

Videos

Yes To Limits To Growth! | The Other School

How Degrowth Can Save the World | Andrewism

How We End Consumerism | Our Changing Climate

Demystifying Degrowth | Rosa Luxemburg NYC

Degrowth is not Austerity | John the Duncan

Degrowth and Ecosocialism | Planet: Critical

Degrowth in 7 minutes: Fighting for climate by living better | Think That Through

The Future is Degrowth (w/ Aaron Vansintjan) || SRSLY WRONG

"Degrowth means power to the working class!"with Jason Hickel | GND Media

Others

degrowth.info

Degrowth Journal

Doughnut Economics

[mahmoudgaza98]

Hello, my name is Mahmoud Rashad from North Gaza. I have ambitions, dreams and a love for life like any young person in the world.

I joined Al-Quds Open University to fulfill my dream of studying like any young person in the world, but it seems that I will not be able to achieve my dream because of the brutal war on the Gaza Strip, which destroyed our entire house, and I lost everything I owned and relied on to achieve my dream, including my laptop, university books and library.

We are a family of 12, displaced from our home in North Gaza to the southern areas under inhumane conditions.

We have been suffering from illness, cold, hunger and drinking polluted water for more than

We have suffered a lot from losing friends and relatives who were killed in the war

for 330 days.

I am appealing to you, the global community, for help. I have started a GoFundMe campaign with the aim of raising

50,000 Euros to enable me and my family to find safety in Egypt. The evacuation fees change from time to time; we currently expect a cost of between $4,000-5,000 per person. Any additional funds generated will go towards supporting my immediate needs and those of my family. There are various obstacles that we will face on the other side, and I hope that we can make some things easier for us.

I would like to update you on the situation now that the war has intensified. We are fine and safe, but life has become very difficult now all around us, people are suffering more and losing loved ones every day. As a family, we have literally lost everything we own, our homes and businesses, but we are trying to remain optimistic by thinking about evacuating and we heard good news today that the borders may open soon. We pray that this is true.

Once we are evacuated, we will try hard to rebuild a small part of what we lost in Gaza. If we can achieve our ultimate goal, we will have the funds to start a business to support our entire family. We want to be able to start over and not suffer anymore in Egypt. If everyone can help us with a small donation to achieve our ultimate goal, we will be able to rebuild our lives after everything was destroyed.

All the positive words cannot express how generous you are especially in sharing my posts to inform other donors about the people of Gaza who are still suffering from the terrible conditions caused by the unjust war on Gaza. Please continue to support the most just cause in the world either by donating directly or by sharing the link to other media. Do not hesitate to help people in difficult and miserable times until the dark days are over.

[cheyannehawco17]

🍉Please don't skip!!🍉

Hello,❤

My campaign is very slow since it has been more than 2 months since its creation 😢 Please help me by donating to me and sharing my link👃

I am Ethan's friend,🤝 Make sure I am telling the truth.

I am a young man,🙌 I am 23 years old, and I have nothing to help me in life,☠ such as rebuilding my house, getting married, and completing my education.😭 I only have fatigue, anxiety, and suffering.😢 Please help me share my story and donate to me,👃 even if it is a little. I feel very embarrassed to ask people for help,🤦‍♂️ but what should I do🤷‍♂️? I am forced to do this. Forgive me.😓

I am Mohammed, 23 years old,👨‍💼 I used to live in Khan Yunis,💚 I was a university student studying Information Technology👨‍💻 at the Islamic University of Gaza,🏫 but my university was completely destroyed,💣 This was my passion in life, but it evaporated in this difficult war,😭 Even my home where I spent my childhood and all my happy memories turned to ashes,😵 I became homeless, so how can I continue my life😢? Please support me so that my passion👃 returns, and so that I can achieve my dream of studying again,👃 I would like to inform you that we are living a crisis of lack of detergents or winter clothes, knowing that winter is coming🌧 with its severe cold that eats the body severely,🙏🏻 I cannot complete this message due to the abundance of tears and pain,😢 Your simple help💸 will make a big difference in my life😙.

My survival fund has been vetted by Global Mutual a!d @beesandwatermelons🍉.

https://www.gofundme.com/f/g9kap-help-mohammed-rebuild-his-home-in-gaza

The campaign has been vetted by the association. They are (#132 in Bees and Watermelons' approved fundraiser list, shared by 90-ghost, #255 in approved fundraiser list vetted by el-shab-hussein and nabulsi), see post here for proof.

Please help me👃

I desperately need money💸 as winter is coming🌧 and there are not enough clothes and blankets😓

because our clothes and blankets are still under the rubble❔.

https://www.instagram.com/mohammed.m.siam?igsh=ZGUzMzM3NWJiOQ==

Please donate to Mahmoud so that way he and his family can evacuate to safety.

[markscherz]

A tumblr-celeb who's a dane??? now that's surprising:0

You work at the national history museum? How's your work curated into working at a museum? Did you imagine ending up with this kind if work when you were a student or did it just, sorta happen?

(I've been there before but that was 20 years ago so I assume things have changed since then haha)

I'm not Danish, as the name probably gives away. I have German-British parentage/ancestry and American citizenship (much to my own bemusement).

Natural history museums have two parts: the public part that people think is the museum, and the collections, which are the actual museum. Generally somewhere between 0.1% and 1% of the contents of a museum are ever displayed to the public. I work in the herpetology collections of the Natural History Museum; a collection of 60–80 thousand reptile and amphibian specimens, some of which date back to the 18th century. It is the perfect place for my work, because a lot of what I do is study evolution and genetics, especially from museum specimens. All of my fieldwork involves collection of new material for deposition in museum collections. So I could not fit in better.

The dream for me, since starting my Master's, was to land a joint curatorship/professorship position, where on the one hand I could work with a museum collection, and on the other hand I would have the academic environment. Such positions are *extremely* rare globally, and just by chance I hit the jackpot when the NHMD advertised that they were wanting a vertebrate curator who would also be a tenure-track assistant professor. I got the dream job, and now I'm three years in, and soon hopefully got be going through the final tenure assessment.

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

anyone else obsessed with the recurring theme in TTPD about how in each instance with the three notable muses referenced, they each made a show in their own way of stepping up to Be Someone for her, only to completely cut and run (whether physically or emotionally or both).

The first love who laid on the charm offensive, "I'm not an organ donor but I'd give you my heart if you needed it," sweeping her up in this great big first serious adult love, inspiring all of the dreams that go with it, making her feel like This Is It and the actions undertaken as a result. But then bailing at the first sign of inconvenience, leaving her distrusting of her own feelings and instincts.

The longtime partner with whom she built a foundation against all odds, the one with whom (or perhaps rather for whom) she meticulously placed those stars on the ceiling. The one who at one point painted dreamscapes on the wall and sparked her darkest nights, the one who chose her mess and said there was nothing that could stop them, the one she believed in so completely she crafted a whole life around, but then accused her of abandoning the ship when he had long since metaphorically and physically left the house on the Heath.

And then of course the final boss level, the infatuation from hell who saw all this and said "I can be the one that none of the others were" and insinuated himself into her life and her consciousness until it felt real, only to vanish after the ploy did its damage.

(Of course, it's all contrasted by a fourth party with whom the trust and dreams come freely and solidly.)

It's just a fascinating study in how patterns keep repeating themselves, not only in a person's choice of partners but in people's behaviours in general. And how so much of the album is not just about specific situations but also globally about the pitfalls of relationships and dynamics and how we choose to believe. TTPD album that you are.

[yapihapi]

Part 1 || Part 2

“I’ll be 87, you’ll be 89 / I’ll still look at you like the stars that shine.”

Blue Lock

Michael Kaiser x Reader

Angst to Fluff

Note: All characters and events in this story are entirely fictional and not based on real people or events. Please be advised that this story includes themes of violence, abuse, strong language, and spoilers for the manga. Reader discretion is advised.

After years of waiting and searching for him every single day—in the park, the bakery, near his house, and around the neighborhood—I found nothing. Not a single hint or clue about where he might be. It felt like he vanished into thin air, disappearing like a bubble without leaving even the faintest trace.

I never got the chance to know if he was okay, if he was mad at me, or if I had done something wrong. I’ve spent so many sleepless nights wondering about him, especially knowing how his dad used to beat him. The thought of it made me sick with worry. I regret every single moment I didn’t ask, “How are you?” or “Are you okay?” He carried so much on his shoulders, and I didn’t do enough to lighten his burden.

It’s been eight years since we first met and four years since I last saw him. He’s 18 now, and I’m 16. I’ve tried to move forward, focusing on my studies and preparing for college. My dream has always been to study in Berlin, the capital, and I’ve worked tirelessly toward it. I told myself that if I couldn’t see him again, the least I could do was honor my dreams. Still, a part of me clung to the hope that I’d find him someday. I couldn’t forget him, not even for a moment.

One evening, I turned on the TV to take a break. By chance, the channel was airing a live soccer match. The team playing was Bastard München, one of the most renowned teams in the league. The energy of the crowd was electrifying, their cheers reverberating through the stadium. But as I watched, my attention was drawn to one player on the field.

A tall young man stood out among the others—his presence magnetic. He had blonde hair styled into a mullet with striking blue streaks at the ends, piercing blue eyes, and blue rose tattoos that climbed his neck, spiraling into thorny stems down his left arm, ending in a crown with a keyhole on his hand. He had a sharp look about him, accentuated by eyeliner, which gave him an air of confidence that seemed almost untouchable.

The entire game revolved around him. His teammates passed the ball to him like loyal subjects serving their emperor. He moved with precision and authority, as if the field was his kingdom. Then, as he approached the goal, the crowd’s cheers reached a crescendo. With a swift, powerful kick, he sent the ball flying.

“GOAL! And Kaiser uses his signature move, the ‘Kaiser Impact!’ What a phenomenal strike!” the commentator exclaimed, his voice filled with awe.

The game ended with Bastard München winning 4-2. My heart raced as I tried to process what I’d just seen. There was something achingly familiar about him. Compelled by curiosity, I searched for him online.

“Michael Kaiser…”

The name confirmed it. The articles, the photos—it was him. Mihya. The boy I had been searching for all these years. My Mihya.

As I read more, my heart swelled with pride. He had become everything he ever dreamed of. He was living his life to the fullest, chasing his passion and thriving. But a lingering question haunted me: Why had he left without saying goodbye?

It’s been twelve years since we first met and eight years since I last saw him. He’s 22 now, and I’m 20. Over the years, I kept up with his games, watching him from afar. But as much as I admired him, he felt more distant than ever. He was a global star now, with fans across the world, shipped with models and actresses, and surrounded by a life I could never touch.

In Berlin, I worked hard to make a life for myself. I loved it there—the opportunities, the people—but something always felt missing. A part of me, a piece of my heart, remained elsewhere, always longing.

When the school year ended, I returned to my hometown. My family greeted me with warmth, celebrating the end of the school year. It was wonderful to be home, but the ache in my chest persisted.

That night, unable to sleep, I wandered out of the house. My feet carried me to the park where so many of my childhood memories were made. Sitting on the swing, I let the memories flood back.

“it’s been eight years, huh?” I whispered to myself, my voice barely audible against the silence of the night. The words hung in the air, heavy with longing and regret. The rain began to fall, soft at first, then steadily growing heavier, each droplet a whisper from the past. I didn’t move. I let the rain soak me, its coldness seeping into my skin, grounding me in the present even as my mind drifted to the past.

The wind carried my words into the darkness, as if taking them to wherever he was. And as I sat there, the rain falling harder, I let the memories and the longing consume me. After all these years, I had hoped for closure—but deep down, I knew that a part of me would always wait for him, even in the pouring rain.

But then, the rain stopped—not entirely, but above me, it was dry. Confused, I looked up to see an umbrella shielding me from the downpour.

“Haven’t you learned your lesson, Sicky head?”

That voice. That nickname. My heart stopped.

When we were kids, I used to get sick often—always catching colds because I played in the rain or forgot to dry my hair. He used to scold me, teasingly calling me “Sicky head”.

Slowly, I turned around. My breath caught in my throat.

“Mihya…”

There he stood, Michael Kaiser, in the flesh.

“What? Are we just going to stare at each other all night?” he teased, his smirk so familiar it brought tears to my eyes.

Before I could stop myself, I leapt from the swing and threw my arms around him, the umbrella falling to the ground. But then I remembered—he hated being touched. I quickly pulled away, stammering an apology.

To my surprise, he grabbed me by the waist and pulled me close again.

“Not with you,” he murmured. “That doesn’t apply to you.”

“Do you… hate me or got tired of me?” I asked, my voice trembling as I looked away, tears silently streaming down my face. Thankfully, the rain masked them—or so I hoped.

“Stop crying,” he said softly, stepping closer and cupping my cheeks with his hands. His thumbs brushed against my wet skin, and his touch was both gentle and grounding. “And no, I would never hate you.” His voice was firm, filled with conviction.

“Then why…” I hesitated, my voice breaking. “Why did you leave me behind?”

He sighed deeply, his hands still cradling my face, as if afraid I’d disappear if he let go. “I would never leave you willingly. It’s just… things got complicated.” He looked down for a moment, then met my gaze again, his expression heavy with regret.

“I was accused of stealing in a jewelry store, and before I knew it, I got arrested.” he said, his voice carrying a mix of anger and frustration at the memory. “But when I was at the jail, someone offered me a way out—he said I had potential in playing soccer..”

He paused, his eyes searching mine for understanding. “He told me he’d heard about me fight back—against the police, against my father—all with just a soccer ball. So, I took the chance. I didn’t have a choice, but it meant leaving everything behind… including you.”

I felt a lump in my throat, the weight of his words sinking in. “All this time,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, “I thought you left me behind.”

“That’s bullshit,” he said firmly, his voice almost cracking. “Mihya would never do that, right?” He looked at me with a soft smile, trying to ease the heaviness in the air.

There was a comforting silence between us, the kind that didn’t need words. I looked into his eyes again, and for the first time in years, I felt the warmth and familiarity I thought I’d lost. His gaze was steady, full of reassurance and an unspoken promise.

As I studied his face, I realized how much he had changed. His features had become more mature, his jawline sharper, and the boyish softness was gone. His mullet, now longer with blue streaked ends, framed his face perfectly. Despite the changes, he was still Mihya—my Mihya.

“You’ve grown,” I said softly, unable to hide the awe in my voice. “But you’re still the same to me.”

He chuckled, shaking his head lightly as the rain continued to fall around us. “And you’re still the same too, always overthinking,” he teased, his voice laced with warmth.

Silence filled the air. It was comforting.

"I told you, you're the best," I said, breaking the silence. My voice firm but filled with affection as I looked into his eyes.

He gave a small, almost self-deprecating laugh. "You've always believed in me, haven't you?" he asked softly, his voice carrying a note of wonder. “You should’ve come to one of my matches,” he continued, his tone turning teasing. “I would have definitely seen you there.”

“How did you even know I wasn’t there?” I asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

“Because I always look for you,” he said, his voice softening but still carrying a playful edge. “Through every game, every goal, every crowd screaming my name—you were always the one I was looking and playing for. No matter how far I went, I always thought of you.”

I felt my cheeks heat up as I looked away. “You’re such an asshat,” I muttered, my voice trembling slightly. “I thought… I thought you didn’t want me to see you anymore. That’s why.”

His teasing demeanor faltered, and he let out a sigh. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.” He looked down for a moment before meeting my eyes again. “I actually come to this park twice a month, hoping I’d see you. I even went to your house, but they told me you weren’t there anymore.”

“Ah… yeah,” I said, fidgeting with the hem of my hoodie. “Well, my mom divorced my dad, and my grandma wanted us to live with her. We’re still in the neighborhood, though.”

His expression softened further as he nodded, taking in the details.

We fell into a natural rhythm, talking and catching up like no time had passed. We laughed over old memories, shared stories of the years apart, and danced together under the rain, letting the drops fall around us. It felt like we were in our own world—just us, the rain, and the echoes of our childhood.

“I missed this,” he murmured, his voice quiet but firm. He reached up, his hand brushing my cheek with a tenderness that made my heart ache. “I missed you.”

I smiled, my own hand hesitantly reaching up to rest against his. “I missed you too. Welcome back… Mihya.”

Mihya, my childhood best friend, the boy who had once been my entire world, was now the man who still held my heart in his hands. And as I looked into his eyes, filled with so much emotion, I knew I was still the girl who believed in him. The girl who never stopped cheering for him, even when the distance felt insurmountable.

Without a word, he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. The warmth of the gesture contrasted with the cold rain, and my cheeks flushed as he pulled away. His gaze dropped to my lips, and I saw a flicker of hesitation in his eyes.

“Can I?” he asked softly, his voice barely audible over the rain.

I nodded, unable to find my voice.

His hand on my cheek slid down to my neck, pulling me closer as his other arm encircled my waist. The world around us blurred, the rain continuing to fall as he closed the distance between us. His lips met mine, soft and tentative at first, then deeper, as if he was pouring all the years of longing into that single kiss.

It felt like time stopped, the rain a mere backdrop to the emotions surging between us. Every doubt, every question, and every unspoken word seemed to dissolve in that moment.

I didn’t even care if I’d wake up tomorrow with a fever or a cold. In that moment, nothing else mattered—the rain, the chill, or the consequences. All I could think about was the warmth of the memories flooding back and the joy of being here, now, with him.

The years had changed us, shaped us, and pulled us apart. But standing there, I realized that some bonds could never break. We were more than childhood friends. We were two halves of the same story, destined to find each other again, no matter how much time had passed.

I could feel it deep in my soul—our love, our bond, would never fade. It would grow with us. We would grow old together, like the stars in the sky, shining brighter with each passing year. And no matter what, I would always be his number one fan, cheering him on through every triumph, every challenge, every goal. And he would always be the one who held my heart, the one who truly knew me. The one I’d loved since we were kids. The one I’d continue to love for the rest of my life.

— Taglist!

@8x9d

— Author’s note!

Hi, everyone! I know this part is longer, but I hope it kept you hooked till the end. Thank you so much for the amazing support on the first part of this story—it truly motivates me to keep writing! I’ll do my best to stay active and bring more stories your way. Every reblog, like, and comment means so much to me and helps share this story with others who might enjoy it. I’d love to hear your thoughts, feedback, or anything that stood out to you. Thank you so much for taking the time to engage. <3

[triptrippy]

🍉Please don't skip !!🍉

Hello,❤

No one donates to me😢 please help me to make them donate to me share my link👃

I'm Ethan's friend,🤝 make sure I'm telling the truth.

I am a young man,🙌 23 years old, and I do not have anything to help me in life,☠ such as rebuilding my house, getting married, and completing my education.😭 I only have fatigue, worry, and suffering.😢 Please help me share my story and donate to me,👃 even if it is a little. I am very embarrassed to ask people for help,🤦‍♂️ but what should I do🤷‍♂️? I am forced to do this. Forgive me.😓

I am Mohammed, 23 years old,👨‍💼 I used to live in Khan Younis,💚 I was a university student studying information technology👨‍💻 at the Islamic University of Gaza,🏫 but my entire university was destroyed,💣 this was my passion in life, but it evaporated in this difficult war,😭 even my home where I spent my childhood and all my happy memories turned to ashes,😵 I became homeless, so how can I continue my life😢? Please support me so that my passion returns,👃 and so that I can achieve my dream of studying again,👃 I would like to inform you that we are living a crisis of no detergents or winter clothes, knowing that winter is coming🌧 with its severe cold that eats the body severely,🙏🏻 I cannot complete this message because of the many tears and pain,😢 your simple help💸 will make a big difference in my life😙.

my survival fund has been vetted by global mutual a!d collective @beesandwatermelons🍉.

https://www.gofundme.com/f/g9kap-help-mohammed-rebuild-his-home-in-gaza

campaign is vetted by association. They are (132 on the Bees and Watermelons verified fundraiser list, shared by 90-ghost, #255 on the verified fundraiser sheet vetted by el-shab-hussein and nabulsi), see post here for proof.

Please help me👃

I urgently need money💸 as winter is coming🌧 and there are not enough clothes and blankets😓

because our clothes and blankets are still under the rubble❔.

https://www.instagram.com/mohammed.m.siam?igsh=ZGUzMzM3NWJiOQ==

This fundraiser is linked on the fundraiser spreadsheet made by @beesandwatermelons on instagram.

[gaza-giving-tree]

"A Cry from the Heart of Besieged Gaza"

My dear brother/sister,🍉🇵🇸

I am speaking to you today from the heart of suffering and pain, from the Gaza Strip, which is being subjected to the most heinous types of wars and destruction. I am Mohammed Saqr, a young Palestinian man who dreams like any young man in the world, but this dream turned to ashes due to the fires of war that destroyed my home and deprived me of everything I own.

Tell your story in a moving way:🇵🇸🍉

I aspired to complete my university studies, but the war displaced me and my family of 12, and destroyed everything that connected me to my previous life. Imagine losing everything you built with the sweat of your brow in a single moment! Imagine being deprived of your most basic rights to live with dignity and security!

Donation goal:

We are striving to rebuild our lives anew, and we hope that you will help us achieve this dream. Your donation, no matter how small, will contribute to:

Providing safe shelter: to build a new home that will receive us after years of displacement and asylum.

Resuming studies: So that I can complete my university studies and achieve my dream.

Family support: To provide a decent life for my family who have endured a lot.

A call for solidarity:

I invite you to be part of this humanitarian effort, and to contribute to shaping a better future for Gaza and its people. Your donation is not just a sum of money, but a message of hope and solidarity to the Palestinian people.

A strong conclusion:🍉🇵🇸

Do not let injustice and oppression prevail, and do not allow our dreams to be lost. Help us rebuild our lives, and may your hand be white in bringing a smile back to the faces of children and youth in Gaza.🇵🇸🍉

A family of 12 in Gaza is trying to escape to safety in Egypt.

They are being charged €5000 a person to be able to escape...a price that keeps fluctuating as the Egyptian government changes it.

This is the story of Mohammed Saqr.

An update from Mohammed:

Mohammed Saqr is pleading for support to escape unimaginable hardship and provide safety for his family. After losing their home, education, and dreams to conflict, he hopes to raise enough funds to bring his family to a place of security. His two young daughters, innocent victims of circumstances beyond their control, deserve a childhood filled with joy, not trauma. With evacuation costs skyrocketing and daily life marked by uncertainty, he asks the global community for help to rebuild their lives. No contribution is too small to make a difference. Even if you can't donate, sharing Mohammed's story and amplifying his plight helps immensely towards getting Mohammed's family to safety.

You can donate to Mohammed's fundraiser [HERE].

#HumanRights #FamilySupport #EmergencyAid #Fundraiser #ConflictRelief #ChildrenInNeed #HelpFamilies #HumanitarianCrisis #SupportChildren #CharityCampaign #SaveLives #CrisisSupport #RebuildLives #FamilyFirst #HopeForFuture #WarImpact #TraumaHealing #GlobalCommunity #UnityInCrisis #SupportNow #UrgentHelp #DonationDrive #ChildhoodMatters #HumanityFirst #ReliefEffort #BeTheChange #StandTogether #SafeHaven #HelpNow #EndSuffering