#i'm sick of it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[majubengel]

Parents and children~

extra:

[trans-rights-coastalmangoes]

Y'ALL ARE PRO MENTAL ILLNESS UNTIL SOMEONE STARTS TALKING TO THEMSELVES

Y'ALL ARE PRO MENTAL ILLNESS UNTIL IT IMPACTS SOMEONE'S HYGIENE

Y'ALL ARE PRO MENTAL ILLNESS UNTIL IT REQUIRES ANY BIT OF EFFORT ON YOUR PART TO ACCOMMODATE PEOPLE

Y'ALL ARE PRO MENTAL ILLNESS UNTIL YOU HAVE TO SEE IT

yall are pro mental illness until they hallucinate

yall are pro mental illness until they dissociate

yall are pro mental illness until they self-isolate

yall are pro mental illness until they're paranoid

yall are pro mental illness until they split

yall are pro mental illness until it's too Scary for your comparatively neurotypical brain to handle

[theroundbartable]

Sick fic except no one is sick.

Merlin is tired of the tavern excuse and at this point, Arthur doesn't really believe the 'gathering herbs' thing either anymore.

So, Merlin tells Arthur he's sick.

Except he didn't account for the fact that Arthur becomes a terrified worryward of a mess. Merlin, thinking he's got some time alone, is now chained to his bed with Arthur feeding him soup and 'checking his temperature', only that Arthur has no clue what he's doing.

Merlin on the other hand can only think of the assassin and.... 'Actually, this is nice.'

[phana-banana]

Wow... this week sure has been a year, huh?

[bitchofdarkness]

I really wish people would read more than just half the sentence at the start. And actually read it too before being a rude bitch to me. Like, wtf is that behavior? Why do you think being rude to me is acceptable, when you can't even read?

Good on you for creating for older stuff, really, but did you have to be stupid in my notes of all places? Can't you read that I am talking about a new trend in fandom about shows/movies that are OBVIOUSLY released NOW?! (Not 10+ years ago) Is it really that hard to understand these few words in my post? This isn't a long message, your attention span should be big enough to read that. Especially if you disagree.

And hey, if you don't wanna read it, how about not reblogging with a stupid opinion attached to it? You can't have an opinion on something you haven't even bothered to understand. So YOU shut the fuck up, bitch.

I hate how fandom has become "if you haven't created anything in this very specific time frame after the release of the show/movie, everyone will have moved on"

And call me old fashioned, but that's just not me. I sometimes take ages to create and publish. And I will love a show or movie for such a long time (years, babes, years) that I just can't relate to the fast consumerism that's going on.

Because, let's be real, it can get really lonely in a fandom if most have simply moved on to the next shiny thing. Is what's created less worth, just because it was created outside the hype? Why is it such a taboo for this new fandom generation to love an old or "late" fic or art?

It's so tiring and I'm too old for the 30-seconds-hype-tiktok-shit. Just tired. So, so tired.

[gothghostiie]

thinking about any of the cod men making use of your sickly, feverish state while you have a cold. pinning you to the bed under his big frame, legs carefully laid over his shoulders while bullying his cock into your hole :( fat, swollen tip rubbing against your heat while you whimper and writhe slightly, cold sweat beading on your forehead. "shh.. just take this for me, yea?" he coos, feeling your hot forehead with the back of his hand. he chuckles, making a stupid joke, something about you being in heat, before starting to fuck into you. your whines are more pathetic than usual, everything feels so much more intense, his cock feels like its splitting you open:( yet all you can do is lay there and take it, orgasms being ripped from your weak body until you're barely able to stay awake :(

[0xywave]

me and my stupid chud son

[yeyinde]

no honestly the worst part of trying to cannibalise simon would be that i know his freak ass is so into it. you bite him as a joke and he’s grabbing the back of your head and pushing it into his arm harder to make the imprints of your teeth deeper. he goes to work and johnny asks him why the fuck it looks like he was fighting zombies from the last of us and simon’s like i have a pup at home who’s teething. and he’s soooo mean about biting you back, he makes them bruise and then flicks them when they hurt just to be mean :( he matches my freak in my head sorry

don't apologise. this is. everything to me, actually. because a pup at home that's teething???? ahhhh i'm gonna be sick!!!!!! 😭 the way he'd look at you too. when his eyes get all flat and dark, heavy lidded. he's amused, yeah, but you've done something here. woke something up.

his little "bite harder, birdie. lets leave a scar" all low and brassy would send me over the edge. makes a game of it to see how many scars you can leave. and him being aggressive with you too is just perfect. keeps biting the same spot over and over again until you can feel the indents of his teeth long after it's healed over. something to remind you of him, he says, and you give up mentioning normal things, like jewellery or trinkets because you like seeing your teeth marks on the side of his neck a little too much to keep pretending.

but it's all fun and games until he takes your ring finger into maw and bites down right at the last knuckle. it's only when he does the same with his, pushing it into your mouth with a heavy gaze and purring out a deceptively calm, even now bite me birdie, that you realise what it means.

[tuttle-did-it]

Everything US does has a compounding reaction not only to the planet, but to everyone else's politics. The UK politicians learnt a hell of a lot from Trump, and it has made our politics and state of things much worse, much quicker.

Pretty sure UK isn't the only one the US has contaminated. Never forget that the US is an empire, and because of their 'we do what we want' mindset, the rest of the planet is forced to pay attention to everything you arseholes do. We don't WANT to pay attention to your politics. We just have no choice.

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (43/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Getting ready for a party is always fun when the company is good.

Warnings: 18+ (mentions of sex), fluff, tiny bit of angst (body insecurity if you squint), alcohol consumption

Word Count: 3.5k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: cherry is still sick, but this needed to get out of my head. feedback is appreciated. love ya.

When Kika puts her bag on the living room table, it clinks suspiciously. 

“My goodness, did you bring half the supermarket with you?” you ask her with a grin, which develops into a loud laugh when Pierre puts down a huge bag next to the door. ”And you brought your whole wardrobe too.”

“Of course I did,” she smiles, kissing your left and right cheek. ”After all, I don't know what you're wearing, and I thought we could coordinate our outfits a little.”

Pierre puts an arm around his girlfriend's shoulders. “I'm glad you only packed one bag,” he says, kissing her temple. “Please pick up the other stuff off the floor tomorrow. The bedroom looks like a battlefield.”

Kika rolls her eyes but snuggles up against him. “You love me.” She looks up at him with her huge brown eyes as he leans down to her. 

“I do,” he smiles against her lips, and the moment is so intimate that you leave them alone in the living room. 

Charles is standing at the coffee machine in the kitchen and smiles at you as you enter the room. “Everything okay?”

You nod and sit down on one of the stools at the kitchen counter. "How long have they been together, by the way?”

“I think about two years," he replies, leaning on the edge of the kitchen counter behind him with his palms. ”They're cute, aren't they?”

“Absolutely,” you smile. "Almost a little too sweet. I fled the living room when I saw the way they looked at each other, like he was about to propose.”

Your roommate has to laugh. "You should see them together at a Grand Prix. A few drivers – myself included – have a bet on when he'll ask her to marry him.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Did you bet for money?” 

The Monegasque raises his coffee cup to his mouth and takes a sip. "Yup.”

“And what was the stake?”

Charles hesitates and avoids your gaze. "100€.”

A grin spreads across your face. ”Can I still join?”

Your friend raises his eyes and looks at you in wonder, but before he can say anything, Kika and Pierre enter the kitchen. Pierre now places the heavy bag, which had just clinked suspiciously, on the kitchen island. Not a second later, the Portuguese woman reaches into the opening and pulls out a bottle of wine. 

“Sweet,” she says and holds out the bottle for you to see. The brand doesn't look familiar, but the label is pink and the glass is a mint green, and the way your friend looks at you, you know exactly that you'll like the wine. 

You take two wine glasses out of the kitchen cupboard and place them in front of her. “And what are the boys drinking?”

Charles puts his hand to his chest in mock outrage. "Boys? Boys?" He shakes his head. "We're men.”

You wrinkle your nose and grin at him. "Since when?”

Your roommate walks around the kitchen island and wraps his arm around your neck to put you in a light headlock. He presses you against the counter in front of you with his big body and whispers in your ear. “Do you want me to show you again?”

“Please get a room.” Kika grins and pours the wine into your two glasses. 

Charles lets his arm slide from your neck to your collarbones, where it then remains. “You're in our apartment. You can just leave,” he replies annoyed, as if your friends' presence were preventing him from dragging you to the bedroom right now. Which maybe it is. But you don't want to think about that.

“Then I'll take this one back with me.” Kika reaches into her handbag again and pulls out another bottle, before placing it in front of you both. "For your beloved Moscow Mule.”

You don't need to look at the man behind you to know that he's grinning. "If you two ever break up, I'll keep Kika.”"

“Ouch,” Pierre says, pouting. "And I thought our friendship was more important to you than ginger beer.”

With his free hand, Charles grabs the bottle and lifts it up before smiling at the Frenchman. "I thought so too.”

“Okay, okay.“ Kika grabs her glass and the bottle of wine before looking at you. ‘You and I are going to get dressed up. You can play video games or something in the meantime." She kisses Pierre on the cheek before heading for the kitchen door.  ”You coming?”

You nod, but turn around in Charles' arms to look at him again. “What are you going to wear?”

Your friend shrugs. “I was thinking of a simple black button-down," he replies, raising his hand to tuck a loose strand behind your ear. "Do you already have something in mind?”

You shake your head. ”Not really, no.”

Charles smiles gently at you before weaving his fingers through your hair before they come to rest at the nape of your neck. “You're sure to find something nice. You look perfect in anything, anyway.” He leans forward a bit and breathes a kiss on your forehead. 

“You're disgusting!” Kika's voice sounds from the hallway. 

Charles flips her the bird before letting go of you. “Go. Before you get into trouble. And let me know if you need anything.”

You smile at him briefly before taking your wine glass and following your best friend towards the bedroom. Once there, you watch as Kika empties her bag, which was just standing in the living room, onto the bed. “I don't want to imagine what your bedroom looks like at your place.”

“Believe me, it's actually better if you don't.” She grabs the clothes and starts sorting them on the bed. "How was your Christmas?”

You take a big gulp of wine. "Good.”

The Portuguese woman looks at you with raised eyebrows. “Wow, you tell it like I was already there.” She matches a white top to a dark red satin skirt. “Tell me. Did you visit Charles Mom?”

“We did,” you reply and sit down on the last free spot on the bed. “I haven't had such a nice Christmas in a long time.”

Kika smiles at you. “Did you two fuck?”

You almost drop your glass. "Kika!" you whisper indignantly and quickly close the door so that the men can't hear you. You lean back against the wood. 

“So you fucked,” she grins and raises her wine glass to toast you. When you stare at her, she lowers her glass again. ”Y'all didn't fuck?”

“We didn't.”

“But you did something.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Like a curious little child, she draws up her legs and sits cross-legged, chin resting on her fist. “Tell me everything.”

You have to laugh. ”I thought we had to get ready for the party.”

“Tell. Me. Everything.”

And you do. You tell her everything that has happened in the last few days. About the night you gave Charles a massage and about the night on the boat. That he gave you an employment contract as a Christmas present so that you can be together permanently. About Christmas and last night, when you got closer than ever before. The way he called you “his girl”. 

Kika listens intently and asks questions in between, but first and foremost she lets you say everything that is on your mind – and that seems to be quite a lot. 

You tell her how confused you are because you don't know exactly where you stand with Charles. But also that it's okay for you, because as long as you can somehow participate in Charles's life, that's enough for you. It's like you're addicted to him – and every little dose you get of him draws you further under his spell. 

When the men knock on the door an hour later, you've just finished and are catching your breath for the first time.

“Is everything okay?“ Charles asks, his eyes fixed on you. He seems to ignore the bed's mess – or he doesn't even notice it. 

“Everything's fine,” you smile.

He nods and points at Pierre, who is standing behind him. “We just wanted to get pizza so that we can eat something decent before the party. What do you want on it?”

“Just a simple Margarita, please,” you reply, Kika gives the same answer. 

Charles smiles at you. “Have you found an outfit yet?” When he sees the empty wine bottle on the dresser, he presses his tongue into his cheek. “Or did you have so much to talk about that you haven't had time yet?” He raises an eyebrow. He knows exactly what you've been talking about for the last hour.

Warmth rises to your cheeks. “The latter.”

Your roommate nods again. "Okay. You still have a little time. We're on our way. See you in a bit," he says goodbye and closes the door behind him. 

Kika looks at you. ”He's right. We really should start thinking about what we want to wear.”

As if you were at a fashion show, you try on everything that could possibly go with the club. Dark red dresses, the little black dress, satin trousers and corsets that accentuate the décolleté. But somehow there is nothing that convinces you. 

Annoyed, you lie down on the bed with your back on it, the clothes are spread out on the floor of the room. Kika lies down next to you. 

“Is it always like this?” you ask her, crossing your arms over your face. 

“What do you mean?”

You breathe out loudly. “It's the first time I'm consciously out and about with people who are famous. Is it always so exhausting to find something appropriate so you don't embarrass yourself?”

“I think you get used to it,” the Portuguese woman replies. ”I had to learn that too at the beginning. That there are some items of clothing that suit your figure and some that don't. And just because something looks good on you doesn't mean you feel comfortable in it.” 

“And how do you do it?” you ask her, looking at her. "I mean, you're a model. You obviously look good in anything. But – I don't know.”

Kika shrugs. "It took me a long time to feel comfortable in certain things. But most of the time I actually wear things that I didn't have to be convinced of at all. And then I don't care what others say about me. I feel comfortable – and I want to keep it that way.” When you don't answer, she grabs your hand. "It'll get easier. And until it does, you've got me by your side." She nudges you in the side. ”And your roommate, who practically undresses you with his eyes.”

You roll your eyes mock-annoyed. “He doesn't.”

“He does,” she grins. “But that's okay. After all, you're absolutely perfect. You could go to the club in a potato sack and you'd look bombastic.”

“Well,” you say. “Unfortunately, I don't have a potato sack here that I could put on.”

When the door suddenly opens, you both jump. The boys are standing in the doorway, Pierre has two pizza boxes in his hand and Charles a smaller black box. 

“Where have you been? It's been almost an hour since you left” Kika asks, getting up from the bed. 

“We had to get something,“ says Pierre, motioning for her to follow him. As Kika takes your wine glasses and the two of them leave the bedroom, Charles sits down on the bed next to you. 

“I brought you something,” he smiles, placing the box on the mattress between you.

You sit up and examine the box. “What is it?”

Your roommate shrugs. “You asked me what to wear to parties in Monaco, and I still owe you an answer.”

Slowly, you reach for the box and take off the lid. Inside, wrapped in dark red paper, is a dress. Black and long, with thin straps and a low-cut back. As you carefully take it out of the box, you are speechless. 

“Do you like it?” He asks and watches you get up from the bed and hold it up properly. 

You stare at it, mouth agape. "Where did you get this?" You ask him, holding it up to your body and looking at yourself in the mirror. 

“It's not important. Do you like it?“ he asks again, his eyes glued to you. 

“It's gorgeous,” you breathe, turning a little to get a better idea of how it would look on you. “I—how much did it cost? I'll definitely pay you back the money.”

“Absolutely not,” he replies immediately and with a tone that allows no argument. "It didn't even leave a small dent in my bank account." He gets up and stands behind you. He's so close that you can feel his breath on the back of your neck. "You'll look stunning in it.”

You look at him through the mirror. “And if you put on your black shirt, we'll even match,” you smile, before carefully hanging the dress over the sideboard. 

Charles wraps his arm around you to press you against him. You feel his hardness against your lower back as he leans down to you and places feather-light kisses on your neck. “That was the plan,” he whispers, and goosebumps spread across your body where his hot breath caresses your skin. 

His hand moves under your sweater and his fingertips slowly glide over your ribs before his thumb hesitantly slides under the fabric of your bra. Breathing heavily, you lean your head against his shoulder and give him more room on your neck as his thumb slowly circles around your nipple. 

“Charles,” you breathe softly and arch towards him. You want more. So much more. 

When Kika's voice echoes through the apartment, you break away from each other. ”Come on! The pizza will get cold!”

With hot cheeks and wet panties, you let Charles lead you into the living room, where the other couple is already sitting on the couch eating pizza. Another bottle of wine is on the table in front of Kika, who is refilling your glasses. 

Although the couch is big enough, Charles pulls you right next to him on the cushion and puts your legs over his lap. For a moment, you wonder if he's doing this just so the others can't see his boner. 

“Here,” Kika smiles, handing you a slice of pizza, which you accept gratefully. 

The four of you eat dinner together and chat about Christmas, Charles‘ upcoming training camp and New Year's Eve, while the boys’ pizza boxes, wine bottles and drinks get emptier and emptier. 

“I was thinking of throwing a New Year's Eve party,” Kika says, putting her wine glass back on the table. ‘You're obviously invited. I wanted to invite a few other friends, but your attendance is most important to me.”

“Well, I'd love to come,’ you smile, looking at Charles. ”Unless you have something else planned.”

The Monegasque shakes his head. “Unfortunately, I won't be back from camp until the afternoon, so we'll probably see each other again at the party first. But until then, you'll be in good company for sure.”

“Excuse me?” Kika says indignantly. “I'm the best company!”

Pierre puts his arm around his girlfriend and kisses her on the cheek. ”For me, definitely.”

Kika leans against her boyfriend before gently kissing him. “I know.”

Charles quickly grabs a pillow and throws it at them. “Please get a room!” He jokes, repeating Kika's words. When she flashes him her middle finger, he can't help but laugh. “Come on, you two. Get ready. We have to leave soon.” He runs his fingers over your shins before smiling at you. “Go put on your new dress.”

You can't stop smiling. “See you in a bit.”

While the men continue to chat, Kika and you get ready. With professional precision, she applies make-up on your face before doing your hair and then taking care of herself. The Portuguese woman decides on a short black dress with pearl embroidery. When she is finished styling herself, she helps you into your new dress. 

“Careful with the straps,” she smiles as she pulls it up your body. You put your arms through it carefully so as not to damage it. When you're dressed, Kika looks at you skeptically. "The bra has to go.”

You look at her with a raised eyebrow. "You want me to go out without a bra?”

“Don't you have an invisible bra?” When you shake your head, she purses her lips into a thin line. ”Then you'll have to go out without a bra. Unfortunately, the straps are so thin that you can see the bra underneath either way. But we can tape over the nipples if you like. At least they won't be visible in the cold outside.”

Without further ado, she disappears from the room and while she is looking for something to cover the nipples with in the apartment, you examine yourself in the mirror in your room, but no matter how you turn, it is too small to see you from top to bottom. On bare feet, you walk to Charles' bedroom across the hall, where the new, larger mirror is leaning against the wall. 

The satin dress clings to your curves and accentuates your body exactly where it should. There is a slit on the left side that reaches to the middle of your thigh and the back neckline is so low that you couldn't pull your thong all the way up because it would otherwise show. 

You examine yourself in the mirror and don't even notice that Charles is leaning against the doorframe until he starts talking.

“Let's stay home,” he suggests, his expression impenetrable. He is wearing his black shirt as promised, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looks wickedly handsome.

You smile at him and try to suppress the dirty thoughts that are trying to take over your brain. “We can't cancel now,” you reply. “First of all, the others are already here, and secondly, Lando is definitely waiting for us.”

“I don't care.” With quiet steps, he moves towards you without taking his eyes off you. Like a predator that stares at its prey before it snaps. 

You turn to him. ”You have very good taste, Charles. The dress is perfect.”

He answers without hesitation. “Not as perfect as the woman wearing it." The Monegasque stands directly in front of you and looks down at you. "Let's stay home," he suggests again. His large hands find their rightful place on your hips and pull you towards him. His eyes glow seductively. 

“It would be rude to cancel now.”

“It wasn't a request,” he whispers, turning you so that you are standing with your back to him. Once again, you can see him through the mirror. He grabs the flesh of your hip with one hand, while the other hand wanders over your upper body until it rests on your neckline. ”That dress was definitely a mistake.”

You look at him, confused. “Why? I thought you liked it?”

“That's not the point,” he whispers, kissing your bare neck. His stubble scratches a little, but you couldn't care less. "I just don't know how to hold back when you look like this." His teeth graze the soft skin below your ear. ”God, you look devine.”

His hand slides gently into the dress from above and encloses your bare chest. At the same time, a soft moan escapes you. “Charles.”

“Merde,” he curses and presses you against him. “How am I supposed to keep my fingers to myself when I know you're not wearing a bra?”

As his fingers gently play with your nipple, you bite your lip. “Who said you had to?” you tease him, whereupon his other hand gently rests on your neck, though not squeezing. Sadly.

“I can't wait to be back here later,” he gasps and presses a final kiss on your shoulder before taking his hands off you. You watch him fix his erection in his pants so that it can't be seen. But it's there, you know that. And just the thought of it gets your blood pumping. ”And then neither of us leaves this bed until I say so.” 

“Is that a threat or a promise?” you ask, tilting your head so he can see the red marks on your skin where his beard has left its mark 

Charles suppresses the urge to pull you close and throw you onto the new bed to fuck you relentlessly until your legs give out and you forget your name. He flexes his hand. “Both, mon amour. Definitely both.”

[bureauen]

Noor's family of five once had a beautiful home, but it was destroyed by bombs and war. Because of constant displacement, she and her family have little left. Her children have few clothes and are sick! They live in a tent. Food is getting more expensive. Winter is on the horizon. They need your help!

Her daughter Rajaa was infected with hepatitis from malnutrition, her eldest son Hussein can no longer go to school, and her baby boy Youssef needs milk, diapers, and clean drinking water. Her husband, Ashraf suffered from a shoulder injury at the beginning of the war, and has lost his job because the place where he worked was destroyed—he worked as a math teacher at a school.

Noor's donation campaign is a testament to her strength and resilience. She struggles to communicate with me because of internet issues in Gaza, but has nonetheless conveyed this message, which I will now share with you:

"We will continue to live, continue to love, and continue to dream of a better tomorrow."

She loves her children, and thanks everyone who helps her. Please, she has raised only 24,270 / 40,000. I personally am so grateful to all who donated, but I will admit I am deeply saddened how much things have slowed. Like Noor, though, I believe in hope. I believe you can make a difference in her life, for her and her family.

Below, I have tagged individuals @nooranqar1 has requested me to. Her campaign is verified by @90-ghost, though her old account was deleted. See here: https://www.tumblr.com/90-ghost/753980516275994624/legit-fundraiser?source=share.

@dirhwangdaseul-archived @girlinafairytale @khangerinedreams @prisonhannibal

@rhubarbspring @neptunerings @heliopixels @neechees

@anneemay-blog @lesboevils @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @heritageposts @dykesbat

@tamamita @tamarrud @nabulsi27 @punkitt-is-here

[ranger-kellyn]

this whole "getting better" thing fucking BLOWS. what do you MEAN i have to stick to this whole thing of exercising basically daily, spending at least an hour across the day doing stretches and yoga, eating at minimum three meals, stay away from social media, and dedicating at minimum 20 minutes to journaling every single fucking day. what do you MEAN if i start slacking on EVEN ONE of them, it dominoes until i'm right back in "i'd rather be dead" headspace.............................

[frankenmouse]

And frankly, the whole puritan nonsense is BS too. You wanna get theological? The whole "Don't lie, lying is a sin" is a (who would have guessed it) massive oversimplification and misunderstanding of the 9th commandment. Which is not about lying in general. It is SPECIFICALLY about "bearing false witness against your neighbor."

I.e., Don't perjure yourself.

That's it. Don't lie in trials. This one specific circumstance.

But god forbid anyone spouting off about the Bible actually read the fucking thing. Or any concordances. Or learn any kind of actual theology. Nope. Just stop at what your Sunday school teacher taught you when you were 5. That's clearly a solid basis for navigating complex moral and ethical issues.

"lying is wrong" what evangelical nonsense is this???

[lesbian-moon-gf]

surviving the current age of internet means saying no to subscriptions and premiums for basic features. you must endure the inconvenience of not being able to use every server emoji in discord. you must build the patience to find alternatives like NewPipe so you can listen to music on youtube while your phone screen sleeps. do Not give these corporations your limited disposable income. tiktok not letting me view videos on my phone without downloading the app? i will outlast tiktok and the execs will be remembered as dull,disgusting capitalists. listen to me, listen to me. if you do not know how to pirate shows from hulu, learn. if you can't pirate it, it is not worth the money to rent it. please i'm on my hands and knees. do not accept this form of internet.

[mugiwara-lucy]

With Kamala/Walz going up DAILY, I've seen more people talking about voting third party/Jill Stein (EW) and I believe the above screencaps from @three--rings can explain WHY Third Party votes NEVER work NOR is this the election to screw around in.

Everyone....like she says above.....PLEASE LEARN FROM HISTORY!!!

(Because if Trump gets in, he's NEVER LEAVING).

[perrieedwards]

i feel like people are skimming over the uk riots in a way that makes me want to tear my hair out. muslims in the uk are in active danger. immigrants in the uk are in active danger. refugees in the uk are in active danger. people of colour in the uk are in active danger. asian communities in the uk are in active danger. black communities in the uk are in active danger.

there are massive far right riots throughout the country right now and people like fucking elon musk and nigel farage are inciting it and still have a platform to speak. people have used three young girls deaths, people's genuine grief in southport, to try and gain traction for their own racist bullshit and it's working.

a lot of refugee charities have been forced to close leaving many people without support, homes, funding, food, etc. if you aren't able to donate please consider sending a message via the conversation over borders campaign! it will send a hopeful, welcoming letter to a refugee in the uk. there is also a guide to staying safe here.

please do your own research and donate to refugee charities, anti-islamophobia charities, mosques who are trying to rebuild after being destroyed, counter protesters, here are some i've heard positive things about but the list is extensive; southport strong together (support for the southport victims and their families), southport mosque rebuilding, riot repair fund, middlesbrough vulnerable residents, nasir mosque rebuilding, hull help for refugees, bristol welcomes migrants,