#please encourage others to vote

[the-forest-library]

The governor's little, free symbol foreshadowed a big, free policy change. In May, Walz signed a Minnesota law "banning K-12 schools, colleges, and public libraries from complying with [book] removal requests... based solely on the viewpoint, content, message, idea, or opinion conveyed." The act meaningfully protects LGBTQ+ books from the crosshairs of conservative censors.

While unveiling the Little Free Library, Walz affirmed his commitment to free reading. "In Minnesota, we are focused on investing in education, our future, and children and families across the state. We're not in the business of taking books away from kids and schools and we certainly don't believe in banning books that tell our history," he told reporters.

[wlw-webcomic-bracket]

In my professional life offline, I work with community development programs funded by the US Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD). One of the most important of these programs is the HOME Investment Partnerships Program, or “HOME” (not an acronym for some reason). In the last couple years, my office has contributed HOME funding to construction of around 400 new apartment units reserved for low-income families, plus conversion of a former hotel to single-resident occupancy units for people exiting homelessness and security deposit assistance for renters moving into market-rate units. I have a secondary role in the HOME program (most of my work is on a different grant, although I’ve contributed to the environmental reviews for all of our current round of projects), but I am immensely proud of what our team has done with a limited resource in a horrifically expensive housing market.

In 2023, House Republicans proposed cutting HUD’s 2024 budget for the HOME program by 67%, from $1.5 billion to $500 million.

Their proposal didn’t make it into the final bill. The President and Senate (under Democratic leadership) proposed HOME budgets of $1.8 billion and $1.5 billion, respectively. The final compromise budget allocated HUD $1.25 billion for the HOME program, a 17% cut which was passed down to every local HOME jurisdiction.

I’m glad the budget cuts weren’t worse. But what this means, in practical terms, is that one out of every six people we could have helped this year gets nothing. One out of every six people who would have received rent assistance is facing eviction. One out of every six people that would have received an affordable unit priced at 30% of their income has to keep giving 50% or more of their paycheck to market-rate landlords. We’re doing what we can with local resources, but there’s only so much you can do at the local level when federal funding goes away.

House Republicans are trying to reduce HOME funding to just $500 million again in 2025. So far, the Senate has rejected this, but barring a miracle upset, Democrats are almost certain to lose control of the Senate after next week’s election. If Republicans keep control of the House, and especially if they keep the House and win the Presidency, there is nothing stopping them from gutting housing programs completely.

I understand why people are frustrated with our choices this election. I am frustrated with our choices this election. But at the end of the day, I have a duty to my community. With Democrats in office, I can keep fulfilling that duty. With Republicans in office, I will lose the best tools I have to make a material difference to the vulnerable people who live around me. The people I serve will lose their housing, or they will lose their best path out of homelessness. There is no way around it.

Please, give me the tools to keep helping. Vote for Democrats up and down ballot, and once we’ve got them in office, thank them for doing what they do well and pressure the hell out of them to do better on the issues where they suck.

Because of gerrymandering (and geographic issues in general), control of the House will probably come down to just a few dozen races. I’m not endorsing any of these candidates on a personal level - some of them are probably good, some of them definitely suck - but they are the only bulwark we have against a party that wants to dismantle everything good about this country and lean into all the most shameful parts of our history. Every election matters, but if you live in one of these House districts, your vote is particularly important:

Alaska: AK-01 Mary Pelolta

Arizona: AZ-01 Amish Shah, AZ-06 Kirsten Engel

California: CA-13 Adam Gray, CA-22 Rudy Salas, CA-27 George Whitesides, CA-41 Will Rollins, CA-45 Derek Tran, CA-47 Dave Min

Colorado: CO-03 Adam Frisch, CO-08 Yadira Caraveo

Connecticut: CT-05 Jahana Hayes

Indiana: IN-01 Frank Mrvan

Iowa: IA-01 Christina Bohannan, IA-03 Lanon Baccam

Maine: ME-02 Jared Golden

Michigan: MI-07 Curtis Hertel Jr., MI-08 Kristen McDonald Rivet, MI-10 Carl Marlinga

Minnesota: MN-02 Angie Craig

Montana: MT-01 Monica Tranel

Nebraska: NE-02 Tony Vargas

New Jersey: NJ-07 Sue Altman

New Mexico: NM-02 Gabe Vasquez

New York: NY-04 Laura Gillen, NY-17 Mondaire Jones, NY-19 Josh Riley, NY-22 John Mannion

North Carolina: NC-01 Don Davis

Ohio: OH-09 Marcy Kaptur, OH-13 Emilia Sykes

Oregon: OR-05 Janelle Bynum

Pennsylvania: PA-07 Susan Wild, PA-08 Matt Cartwright, PA-10 Janelle Stelson

Texas: TX-34 Vicente Gonzalez

Virginia: VA-02 Missy Cotter Smasal, VA-07 Eugene Vindman

Washington: WA-03 Marie Gluesenkamp Perez

Wisconsin: WI-03 Rebecca Cooke

[mickeym4ndy]

watchng a US election from outside of the states is so insane bc HOW is it this close

[ettadunham]

sometimes i remember the hunger games and how nobody actually paid attention to what was in those books

[medicinemane]

"Watch Kamala COOK TRUMP… then EAT HIM ALIVE!"

So… youtube has decided I love the most annoying left wing pundits (don't know what I did to deserve it), but they have some of the most amazing titles for their stuff like… uh huh, surprised no one else is reporting on this pretty massive election update, but you probably know what you're talking about crazy youtuber

(Now we know why he brought up Hannibal at that one rally, he was warning us)

(You know what, I mostly trust you people, but not 3 reblogs down and I'm not talking politics with loonies. So no reblogs, but you have my permission to plagiarize anything in this post for your own post, steal away on that title... I can even track you down a source... sadly I'm not funny enough to just randomly write that)

[zorciarkrildrush]

Kim Kitsuragi shitpost voicelines!

Please see end of post if you want to use these!

Submitted by you, voted for by you, I'd like to present the voicelines you were just dying to hear being said by Kim - dutifully performed by the brilliant Jullian Champenois.

In 10th place,

How did we get here? We walked, believe it or not. You were not entirely lucid.

In 9th place,

I want to have fuck with you.

In 8th place, Normal people, when they go down a slide - they're fine.

Submission idea attributed to this post.

In 7th place, No, detective, I do not just want to go apeshit.

Submitted by bowyooo. In 6th place, Apartment complex? I find it quite simple.

Submitted by elelei. In 5th place, Officer, what the fuck was that?

In 4th place, Trans rights are human rights, detective. Obviously.

In 3rd place, Do I like men? Man is a hopeless creature. I don't like much of anyone. ...Oh, if you meant sexually, then, yes.

In 2nd place,

Detective, Instead of worrying about appearing 'submissive and breedable', please make sure your paperwork is submitted and readable.

Submitted by scrollingdown. And finally, in 1st place, the voice line you all wanted to hear so so badly is...

I'm da king of da highway.

Usage

You are welcome and encouraged to use these for memes, shitposts, and other foolish fan content on social media. When you do, please include credit to Jullian Champenois. You can also include a link to his website, tag him on Instagram/Twitter (@julliannailluj), or mention his Youtube channel according to the content you make. Commercial content of any kind - ads, promoted videos, etc - is explicitly forbidden by these usage terms. Anything of this sort will require specific permission by Jullian. Please don't fuck around we love him. That's it! Thank you everyone for participating, reading, and enjoying this silly little project.

[graylinesspam]

just doing a poll for my own Aro/Ace curiosity.

I don't want to hear from non Ace people on this one please. I'm also kinda trying to prove a point about there being more Ace people on this site. (As I seem to have collected them all, but none of them know each other). So my fellow ace people, please share this with all of your followers and we'll get a fun little social experiment out of it.

non ace people are encouraged to reblog, but don't vote; Thank you.

[fiercynn]

oh my fucking god can people stop coopting the term "harm reduction". i know language can change but i refuse to let this term change into the literal opposite meaning just so people can justify their decision to vote for a genocidaire.

harm reduction is literally, meaningfully, about reducing existing risk of harm. a person who uses drugs is at risk of disease or illness because they only have access to dirty needles? provide them with a needle exchange program to make it safer for them. a teen who is sexually active is at risk of becoming pregnant or contracting a sexually transmitted infection? provide them with sex ed and protective devices like condoms or dental dams to allow them to have safe sex.

and yes, there is a part of harm reduction that is aimed at not moralizing about the behavior that you're trying to reduce harm from. but if you're a progressive - as most of the people lecturing us about "harm reduction" purport to be - you should already understand that these behaviors are not ethically bad in and of themselves. it is not inherently unethical to use drugs or be sexually active as a teen, so the fact that harm reduction efforts could "encourage" that behavior is also not unethical! if you think that it is, then you're actually a conservative!

and, importantly, the people who benefit from harm reduction were only at risk of harming themselves in the first place. so helping someone make those activities safer for themselves is not only reducing the risk of harm to that person, but, in doing so, it is not increasing the risk of harm to anyone else either.

voting is giving your active support to a candidate, and thus to that candidate's platform. so please tell me how giving your vote to a president who is actively driving a genocide, perpetuating a pandemic, funding cop cities and a border wall, and driving up deportations - none of which he has pledged to stop if reelected - is reducing existing risk of harm? because harm reduction also isn't "choosing an option that you believe is better than the hypothetical even worse alternative". and voting for biden is, in fact, increasing the existing risk of the harm that he is currently enacting on other people, and encouraging his despicable behavior!

if coopting the term "harm reduction" is the only thing making you feel okay about your decision to vote for biden despite all the people who are dead, disabled, deported, or destitute because of him, then honestly, that seems like a you problem. STOP COOPTING THE TERM.

(and if you feel the urge to respond with something along the lines of "but biden's just doing his best! i'm just telling people to vote for him because i'm scared of trump!" then please at least read this post as well before you say anything to me about it)

[eowyntheavenger]

Palestine and the US election

I’m done with Twitter soundbite takes that voting blue = supporting genocide. I see a lot of people making an argument that goes like this: "Biden has sent arms to Israel, helping its government commit genocide against Palestine. Therefore, voting for him in the 2024 US election, if he is the Democratic nominee, is supporting genocide, and NOT voting for him helps Palestine." There's a lot wrong with this view, so let's break it down.

It's true that Biden has sent a lot of arms to Israel and bypassed Congress multiple times to do it, and it's indefensible. I'm ashamed that any US politician would help Israel wage its brutal, genocidal war against the Palestinian people. As one of Israel's closest partners, the US could actually be using its leverage right now to put pressure on Israel’s government—I’m thinking about how apartheid in South Africa fell, in part, because of international pressure. That's what should be happening, but instead the US government is literally just helping Israel kill Palestinians.

I wish there were a strong pro-Palestine candidate in the upcoming election. The best bet in that regard would probably be Bernie Sanders, since he's prominent enough, well-liked enough, and has good ideas, not just on this issue but on many things (and yeah, he's way too old, but so are the current frontrunners). But he's already ruled out another run. Unless an amazing candidate materializes and wins the Democratic nomination (please vote in the primaries where you live), it will probably be Biden running against Trump. It’s not guaranteed, but it’s likely.

Here's what people need to understand: the election will not be "genocide Joe" vs. "pro-Palestine candidate." It will most likely be a choice between these two candidates:

On the one hand, Biden, who has armed Israel, but can be pressured to change his policies because he can be pushed left; who is not a wannabe dictator; who will not destroy what's left of the country's democratic norms; who will not encourage coups, political assassinations, or jail his political opponents; who will not utterly stifle dissent.

Or on the other hand, Trump, who is beholden to a fanatical evangelical base that backs Israel no matter what, that actually wants more conflict because they are part of a death cult. Trump, who is not susceptible in any way to pressure from the left, but is susceptible to pressure from the right and the far right. Trump, who has been clear all along about his desire to be a dictator; who will destroy what's left of democratic norms; who has already encouraged a coup to overthrow a democratic election, encouraged the assassination of his own vice president, and is openly planning to jail his political opponents if he returns to the White House.

(This isn't even touching on Trump's positions on trans rights, gay rights, women's rights, the environment, policing, immigration, or his racism against every group he could be racist against, or his liability for sexual assault, or a whole bunch of other issues).

There's a very convincing argument that Netanyahu actually wants Biden to lose the US election and Trump to win. That's because Netanyahu knows that Biden has in the past responded to pressure from his own party and the public. If there are a lot of people criticizing his policies, it gives him pause. Trump doesn't operate like that. If millions of Americans criticize his policies as inhumane he just lashes out at them. In short, Biden views criticism from the left as a liability that he has to act on. Trump views criticism from the left as an incentive to be even worse.

Biden is not the candidate I want. But you need to understand that if Trump wins the election, he won't just arm Israel like Biden is doing now: he will do that and more. Not only will he help Israel escalate its war, your very freedom of speech to support Palestine will be under attack. Trump might even decide that financial support for Palestinians or charities that help Palestine = financially supporting terrorism, and use that as a pretext to arrest and jail people. You think he and his far right goons wouldn't go that far? If Trump wins this election, you shouldn't be surprised if this kind of thing happens, and much worse.

Do you want the US to accept Palestinian refugees? Because it won't accept them under a Trump presidency. A key Republican talking point in this election is "the US shouldn't take Palestinian refugees because they're probably all terrorists." This isn't just a Trump thing, it's something other Republicans are saying, but obviously you can imagine where Trump would fall on this issue given his infamous Muslim ban and conflating refugees with terrorists. These are just a few examples of how Trump would actually be even worse for Palestine than Biden—which is saying something.

In this upcoming election there is no neutral option. There is no morally pure option. There just isn't, I'm sorry. Refusing to vote will not help Palestine. Refusing to vote will only help Trump win, and will give every single person in the United States who is fighting for a better world a significantly harder battle to fight.

It goes without saying that there are things everyone should do to help Palestine besides voting in an election. But I'm writing this post that is about voting because I'm genuinely worried by how many so-called leftists want to give up their right to vote—a right that older generations had to fight tooth and nail for—because they think it won't achieve anything. If voting didn't achieve anything, Republicans wouldn't be trying so hard to suppress your vote.

I'll conclude by saying that nuance is not this site's specialty, but please try to understand what I'm actually saying here before attacking me in the notes. Finally, people being antisemitic or islamophobic on this post will be blocked. People denying that Israel is committing genocide against Palestine will be blocked. Trump supporters, tankies, and people who say that Biden and Trump are the same will be blocked. So will people who say "voting is pointless" or "but Biden did this bad thing—" Biden fucking sucks, I know that very well, so if you're going to try to make that argument to me then stop right now and read the post again.

[missmeinyourbones]

omg megumi and "open your mouth for me" PLEASE

i like the way you think anon

NSFW 18+ MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED.

cw: afab!reader, fingering, cum eating, spit (?). finger lickin' (good)

...

as distant as he may seem, megumi thrives off of intimate sex—which surprises him more than anyone else.

he remembers being an awkward teen, watching any god-awful porn he could find online and thinking oh, so that's what sex is supposed to look like.

like a fucking book report, he'd take mental notes of the underlying motifs and tones. always the same dynamics—men big, muscly, and dominant as they throw and bend women every which way. rough. cruel. dirty.

but now he's twenty-four. an adult. he pays rent and votes regularly in local elections and drinks black coffee and fucks like a real man, not the ones he used to see on his computer screen.

if he told his past self that he'd be here, with you, doing the filthy things you do to one another, he'd scowl in pure distaste. and honestly, the thought of anyone else doing it still does sound a bit foul to him.

but it's different with you.

it's intimate, something only he gets to see and only you get to feel. it's hidden from the world and completely your own, different each time yet somehow always leaves him feeling the same.

megumi's never been adventurous, but he's learned that he would do just about anything you ask as long as it's paired with a meek please and thank you.

his fingers twist and curl inside of you, practically molding your warmth to his liking as he softly rocks them in and out of your cunt. he sweetly kisses the sweat beading on your forehead and you whine when the palm of his hand brushes against your sensitive clit.

you're close—he knows you well enough to know through the heightened pitch of your whimpers and the clenching muscles around his fingers.

his voice is soft against your sticky cheek when he gently encourages, "come on, you can do it."

he knows you can, and you know you can. because megumi knows exactly where to poke and prod and linger inside of you to get you right where he wants you. something he's learned through the embarrassingly loving trials and errors of intimacy with you.

"always look so pretty," he kisses your jaw, relishing in the way your body feverishly chases his touch, "wanna see it, please."

and that's really all it takes. you come around his fingers with rocking hips and a breathless whine.

megumi lets you ride it out on his fingers, lets you rock your shaky hips into his palm for as long as you need to get the most out of him.

when your head falls back and your breathing slows down a bit, he allows himself to pull his fingers from you with a lewd pop (something he would cringe at years ago, but now makes his heart swell with pride).

you're tired, he knows, but still, he's incredibly hard and disgustingly in love with the moment spread out before him.

he nudges your nose with his, a silent command for you to kiss him. he cant decide if he loves or hates the way you teasingly turn your cheek, making him work for it.

he pouts softly, needy and shameless as he nudges you again, "come on, open your mouth for me."

and when he asks, he means for him to slide his tongue against yours, but you clearly have other plans.

his mind is only focused on tasting you right now, so when you reach for his wrist, he doesn't think twice.

and when you finally open your jaw slightly ajar, and it's to pop his cum-covered fingers in the warmth of your mouth, he's nearly nineteen again—cumming his pants at the sight of something he thought he'd never actually feel.

"jesus christ, babe," the groan comes desperate and whiny from his throat.

he hides his reddening face in your chest and you laugh at the sight, giggles muffled by his long fingers when you mumble out, "what?"

when he pulls away from your mouth, a string of spit follows, connecting your swollen lips to his pruney fingers. the romantic in him knows it's the invisible string that forever ties the two of you together.

but his words aren't as poetic as his thoughts.

"bitch," he grumbles frustratedly, and you actually laugh at his blunt words.

he doesn't mean it, and he's not trying to be sexy and degrading like the men he used to see online, he's being himself. desperate and needy and so in love with you that it hurts him in moments like this.

"that's not fair," he whines when you lick your lips through your giggly amusement.

his eyes go from his hand, to your lips, to your eyes with something that looks like shame mixed with hunger when he murmurs, "i wanted a kiss, not... that."

your nose scrunches, "you didn't like it?"

"no," he's quick to clarify with a blush. he leans into your swollen lips, and when you finally let him kiss you, tasting like your cum and his spit, megumi thinks he might pass out.

"no, i loved it."

[the-forest-library]

Vote. [League of Women Voters poster by Louis Bonhajo, 1920]

[the-bees-patella]

ok, well now what.

My fellow Americans: hello from your local pissed-the-fuck-off former community organizer.

You're probably seeing a lot of calls to support each other right now, and that's all well and good in principle. Where we tend to stumble is largely practical: we're not sure where, how, or when. The same way it works to make a plan to vote, make a plan to help. A few key points:

Please do not get impatient if the organization's response to you is late or generic at first, or if what you're asked to do isn't what you offered. A lot of local organizations—where your impact will be the greatest—are very small and 100% volunteer-run. You're here to help. Don't be one more thing they have to manage.

Be honest with yourself and the organization about your capacity. If that's a couple hours on a weekend from time to time, that's great. If that's driving people places once a month, if it's a small, regular donation—whatever it is, it's one more person helping who wasn't before. The point of doing it all together is that none of us can do everything, and it isn't on any one of us to do it all. It's much easier to scale up your participation than it is to take on a big responsibility and back out.

Stick with it. Everybody's fired up right now, and many organizations won't be lacking for personnel or funds...for now. They'll need you when it gets boring, when people get tired and busy. Whether it's recurring donations or one shift a week, stick with it for as long as you can, which is why see point 2 above. The need will not stop. The help can't either.

My aim with this brief list of organizations/funds is not to be comprehensive, it's more a starting point of both actual orgs and the types of opportunities there are out there. I highly encourage you to look around in your local community. There are people out there working on creative solutions in innovative ways to problems you didn't even know existed.

I know it might sound small or facile, but I promise, going out there and talking to real people will help. Just go to one meeting, on Zoom, in person, anything. Start there. Everything you're able to do is more than there was before.

Fascists thrive on despair and isolation, on mistrust and fear. But there is good in this world, it's worth fighting for, and you're part of it. The time is now. Let's fuck them up. (List below the cut).

If you're on bluesky, here is a much more specific list of organizations. If you're not, reply to this post or send me an ask with your region and I'll respond if I can. Everyone else, please feel free to add your local organizations in the reblogs. Make sure you do your vetting first; please link to a direct source/person/means of contact if you add something to the list.

Trainings and support for leaders to run for public school boards

And library boards

Black and brown youth organizing

Labor organizing in the South/Southwest

Mutual Aid in NYC/Donate to keep that mutual aid active

Mutual aid/volunteer orgs in DC

Supporting and training young progressives to run for office

Collective action against medical debt

Climate action

[diejager]

BEGGING I WAS LEFT ON A CLIFFHANGER FOT THE MONSTER AU 141 😭😭😭😭😭

pretty pretty please 🙏🙏

Only Human pt.2

Pairing: Monster Task Force 141 + König & Horangi x reader

Cw: canon-typical violence, hate, xenophobia, mention of racism, blood and violence, injury, fighting, protective 141, trauma?, anxiety, tell me if I missed any. wc: 6.3k

Only Human Masterlist

Previous

You still wonder, to this day, why you were needed on the Task Force. It worked like a well-oiled machine when put to the task, nearly unstoppable in the face of enemies. Although you were prideful to call it your home, you felt lacking compared to them, all much stronger, fiercer, and nimbler than you in every aspect, separated by miles of distance. One thing, however, that you could wield with an iron fist was your human nature and people’s fear of newly implemented hybrids. The public expression from governments about welcoming them into their ranks and their society without staying hidden under the pretence of being sick or behind a veil of secrecy. 

You, after seeing how many Joint Task Forces and other Teams treated the 141, decided to deal with the introductions, the medium, the pacifier, between every team. Humans tended to react differently to another human than to a hybrid, they were nicer, less brutal and honest (a kind that held little spite). Laswell seemed more agreeable to your idea when you first came up to her with it, having seen the hate sent to hybrids she worked with. She encouraged you to be the first to interact or stand beside Price when he greeted human soldiers. Price, unlike Laswell, was reluctant at first. His instinct of protection and possession of his hoard made him less open to such ideas, especially if it brought you some, if any, backlash from other humans (humans are cruel, they shun what they don’t understand, they fear it and push to control it, if not, they destroy it. The need to control every aspect of their life made humans ruthlessly unremorseful and unsympathetic to other causes.).

As a tight-knit TF, some decisions are taken in votes, by hearing what the others thought of the idea or plan and his one was harsh. Ghost was hard-pressed on keeping you between them, the little, fleshy human of their Task Force (the youngest) and to let them deal with xenophobic glares while keeping you protected. Alejandro was similarly worried, but he knew the outcome of letting you speak first or accompany Price. He was torn. The others, Soap, Gaz and Rudy, seemed onboard, with the kind of why the fuck not? kind of look on their faces. Soap especially, he’d be able to stick close to you without having to hover over you like a protective guard dog. 

Seeing the votes in your favour, he let it pass, and no sooner had they needed to meet a second team - human soldiers - for the next deployment. You stood beside Price when he strutted down the walkway, shoulders broad and back straight, an image of a strong and fearless leader with his draconic tail flailing lowly. He, as intended, greeted them first, rank and name before he presented you, his little human helper with humans. They’d taken better to speaking to you, being spoken by one of their own rather than a hybrid. He saluted you more amicably and more sincerely:

“Pleasure meeting you, Hunter.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Captain.”

Although it wasn't without its setbacks, the operation went well, you had been able to come out mostly unscathed, leaving a few enemies on the brink of death for Ghost to savour. He was most thankful, a part of his body dissolving into the finest mist as they washed over the living bodies sprawled on the ground. You watched on, mesmerised by the uncanny way Ghost’s body absorbed the bodies of others, flooding the area with his shadow while you stayed unbothered, in the same condition as he first started. His darkness reached your neck, covering you in a soft cover of warmth as he ground the bodies to ash and dust. His skin was cold, but his powers were darkly hot, burning with the embers of hell, of a dead soul coming back for revenge and evilness.

Beyond the fact that your idea worked, you liked feeling useful to them, having a semblance of usefulness in a team of extremely competent beings. You felt with first greetings from then on, smiling and saluting to the leading figures of the groups you’d work alongside. It lessened the weight on Price to appease and pacify the new additions, he’d be able to fare better with the operators now that they had a different welcome, a different kind of greeting. It played into the minds of wary men that a human was the one to greet them, that one of theirs was leading the hybrids for them. You played the perfect example of a soldier for any xenophobic bastard. 

Ghost, while still feared, received fewer glares than he usually would, occasional ones from daring or bold soldiers holding a lower rank than him, but he appreciated your attempts at making them more comfortable. He’s used to the negative reactions, had been since his childhood, but you seemed to make him feel like he deserved better, like he shouldn’t be glared, spat and scoffed at.

Soap, Rudy and Alejandro looked like human men in peak condition, if only for Soap and Alejandro’s glowing eyes and heightened strength and agility. Rudy was somewhat human, he looked and acted like one, down to the DNA, but with the title of cadejos vessel came powers. Perhaps not as strongly affecting as the rest of the hybrids, but he had subtle changes in his molecular making. 

Gaz had stares coming left and right, daggers sent his way for having wings and talons he couldn’t will them to disappear, to recess under his skin and wear the appearance of a human man. He felt the heaviest blow by both not being able to cover his gifts and the colour of his skin. Although you wanted to proclaim that your new age came with more open-minded people, you knew that it simply couldn’t fix hundreds of years of standards in a few decades. People would still judge others by the tone and colour of your skin, they’d still hate the different and the strange; just like they hated hybrids. So you kept to his side most often after your introductions, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him close, letting him embrace you with a protective wing and a grateful smile.

You mostly worked hand in hand with human-filled teams and spear-headed human-led operations. So you were shocked, frozen to your core, when you saw a tiger haetae hybrid beside a tall, veiled operator walking down the cargo ramp. The hybrid, a tiger variant from the black-striped, orange tail that flickered slowly in a warning to any approaching beings. Dark glasses and a mask covered his face, his jacket and vest riding to the edge of his jaw, covering any skin from showing, though his lower back was left uncovered for the comfort of his swaying tail. He was neither short nor tall, he was tall enough to be slightly over the average height, but his teammate dwarfed him.

Perhaps his enormous height was an aspect of his monster half, or maybe he had the perfect genes to hold such a frame. He too, like his haetae operator, hid his face under a veil with maroon tears painted under his eyes. Like Ghost, he was covered head to toe in equipment and clothes, a jacket, a vest, gloves and black paint around his eyes. Whoever this was had both height and mass, burly arms and broad shoulders eclipsed by a slim waist and equally, disastrously thick thighs. On their left arm were flags, one from South Korea and the other from Austria.

They were the only ones to walk out, the only ones to approach you. Then your TF only had two new faces to work with rather than a whole team. You were tempted to say it would be easier, you waited until they stopped for Price - Price only - to greet them since they wouldn’t need a human to negate any aggressiveness between human and hybrid - or so you thought. They moved in synchrony, Price stepping forward to cover you with his body, his back facing you as he crossed his arms. Ghost and Alejandro had moved next to the captain, covering your sides. Alejandro had crossed his arm in a similarly menacing way, and Ghost stood still, body rigid but ready to strike at a moment’s notice; both were glaring ahead. Soap and Rudy took their places behind the colonel and the lieutenant, arms glued on their sides, weapons within reach with menacing stares towards the Korean and the Austrian. Gaz’s wings grazed you, soft feathers wrapping themselves around you and pulling you into his chest, acting as a protective cocoon for you. 

“What-?”

They moved so quickly and efficiently that they seemed to suddenly appear in place, back straight and protective. Protective of you. Hybrids, from what you’d heard from couples and families, were possessive of their own, caring and extremely wary of other hybrids they hadn’t formed a bond with. Your TF was your pack, they were all tethered to each other through the familial bond they formed over the years. Then you came in, small and weak with your human self into a den of lions, thrown to be subjugated to their loving mercy and sinfully strong personalities. 

The team of six hybrids encased you, barring the KorTac specialists from seeing you. Monsters and hybrids could sense one another - from what you heard - and they reacted instinctively. You saw their bodies tense as the two approached your team, muscles strained under the compacting anxiety and possessiveness. You could neither see over their shoulders nor feel what was happening, they stopped farther from you than you’d expected and you couldn’t see their feet. 

The only sign you had was your captain’s gravelly voice welcoming them, his tail swaying like a cat’s tail, a slow, cautious motion. It - knowingly or unknowingly, seeing as Price acted on a mix of instincts and worry - wrapped around your ankle, clinging tightly to your boot-clad leg while a rumble rattled his chest. Steam rolled from his lips, billowing over the top of his hat in a show of power and warning. You hoped they wouldn’t take this negatively. They worked hard to curb the harmful rumours of 141 being beasts in human skin, acting like blood-thirsty and ravaging monsters that cared for nothing but themselves. 

Although you couldn’t see them, the Austrian could, his towering height assured that he could see over almost any human, monster and hybrid alike. He was curious about the way they protected one of theirs as if you were weak. He cocked his head, green eyes gleaming red as he stared silently at the small mop of hair between them. What made you so important? What made you such a protected soldier? He couldn’t sense you like he could the others, their scent and magic masking yours in a violent torrent. 

Unlike him, his friend couldn’t be bothered with the show of protection, he’d enrolled for the money and wouldn’t be deterred by much. He was a tiger haetae, honourable to a certain extent and proud. He might be shorter than the hybrids around him, but he was as vicious and talented as the next. He, however, was slightly curious, but he wasn’t paid enough to inquire or worry about the doings of 141’s pack.

It went as well as anyone would expect for the 141 with the added help of two military, hybrid operators from an elite PMC. As the combat medic of the TF, you followed them from behind and moved to the middle when you entered the building. You’d usually be at the back, being a medic, but you were a combat medic, having seen and participated in complete ops dealing with infiltrations and hostage rescue. You were an integral part of every mission. Now that they had a medic on hand, the wounds the men suffered could be treated in place rather than wait for the long ride home with the possibility of letting infection take root in the gash and watching it fester during hours in the carrier. 

They had a habit of getting shot and slashed, a tad bit reckless in their ways but still effective. The stress of risking infection or the impossibility of reaching a medic after a mission was lessened, Price would still be able to live a few more centuries before his hair turned grey with nerves and his face wrinkled with frowns. You were a treasure beyond the fact that you were extremely helpful and insightful on your own. Your hands were steady and your demeanour calm and collected (albeit fidgety when put under too much pressure and fiery when someone looked at them differently.), you were a beauty, someone they needed to nurse and protect. 

“I warned you about standing so close to the explosion!” They watched you berate Soap, cheeks puffed and lips pulled in an adorable pout. You went on a list of things he could’ve done better and safer than the decision he made, hands pulling the bandage around his arm, your bag set beside you. 

“How was I supposed ta know?” The werewolf grumbled, giving you his best version of his “puppy dog eyes'' while he slouched back, trying to sit as comfortably as possible on the hard seats of the aircraft carrier. 

“You’re a demolition expert, you’re supposed to know, Soap.” You hissed, tightening the wrap and smoothing it over so that it would hold. Your hand dipped into your bag, pulling out a few alcohol wipes for his face. With a jerky motion of your hands, you broke the seal and started patting his bleeding cuts from shrapnel and grazes from bullets. He winces with every dab, fidgeting in his seat while you disinfected his wounds, wiping away the dirt and blood before deeming it clean enough to move to the next one. “You also have a habit of setting things on fire.”

Although you mumbled it so quietly, the others heard you clearly, laughter rumbling out of the others while they watched Soap being scolded by the youngest. You never feared reprimanding them for an idiotic act that would result in having you tending to them, it was something they appreciated, the familiarity and comfort you had with them. They weren’t monsters, hybrids or anything with you, they were your family. 

Seeing you so at ease with them had König and Horangi curious, most would cower or segregate themselves from other hybrids. You especially, seeing as you were the only human with them, they thought it’d be normal to see you shrink onto yourself and ignore the world around you while you waited to return home. Yet here you were, berating a werewolf for cuts and bruises that would heal in the following days, his metabolism prevented infection and permanent scarring unless it was too deep or deadly. They’d simply add to his rugged handsomeness.

König wondered if you’d show him the same amount of compassion and ease when you tended to his wounds - if he ended up having any at all. Would your hands be soft like his mother’s when cradling his arm? Would you whisper soft nothings to him while you cleaned his gashes with antiseptics? Would you also scold him for being reckless? He doubted that. Granted, he was extremely reckless and lost himself to the adrenaline pumping through his system when he entered the field, but he always came out unscathed. As a percht hybrid, his extreme enhancements made him practically numb to pain and sensations, with the small exceptions of a few primarily driven emotions or natural reactions to certain stimuli.

Perhaps, if your efforts were thwarted by his immense height, you’d hold and tend to him as softly as you did with the others, running your fingers through his hair and cradling him against your chest. He thirsted for something mundane, something so human-like that he would be reminded that he wasn’t completely a monster. He missed the softness in people’s gazes or the carefree way they spoke to and with him. He missed being reminded that he - too - was a living being with their rights. You could be the start of a regular life - as regular as a mercenary could have.

Even Horangi, who had vehemently stated to König that he could care less about the small, weak human in the operation, gave you the merit of being strong-willed and confident enough to stand beside them. He, the ever prideful and strong hybrid he was, deemed you competent for a human. Your usefulness started with your quick reactions and impeccable skills in your field and stopped when you couldn’t save someone, which had yet to happen. He was intrigued by the workings of your TF, how they managed to score a single human and an amicable one at that, strong and fierce, yet gentle and compassionate. If he’d grown up with someone like you, would he have turned out the way he did? 

He simply watched from his corner beside König, through tinted glasses his eyes followed your movement, memorising everything you did for your brothers. They felt like imposters in your small, seven-men group, seemingly standing awkwardly in their little corner. 141 had shown a bit of aggression towards them in warning words and deadly glares when they assumed you didn’t see them, hissing out threats to ensure your safety among them. Not only were they confused by the dynamic, but they weren’t told anything besides “Back off” and growls. 

After patting Gaz’s knee, giving him an oscar winning smile with gleaming eyes that were received with enthusiasm, you packed your things in your bag and moved to the next patient. You skipped Price, Ghost and Rudy, crouching in front of Alejandro. Rummaging through your bag and handing him a clean wipe for his dust-covered face, the soot clinging to his cheeks. He expected you to sit by your locked rifle after checking them, but you continued walking. You were heading towards them.

He knew König left the ground unscathed, clean of anything but dirt and blood, which meant he was the one you were heading towards. Hand on your pouch and a steady step backed up by a determined expression, you stopped before him. He tilted his head, a silent question. You blinked dumbly, holding out your hand to him, your small fingers backing him to give you something.

“Can I see your hand?”

His hand? He hadn’t thought much of it as he rested it on yours, palm upwards and gloveless. He saw it then, the small cut that bled red, small enough to be neglectable, but long enough to still be bleeding. He hadn’t felt anything from it before or after boarding the aircraft, he must’ve still been riding the adrenaline rush from the fight. He wondered how you knew he hurt himself.

Your fingers curled around his palm, holding it firmly as you lightly dabbed the inflamed skin with a sterilised tissue, being careful of the flared sides of his torn flesh. Under the blood and dirt, his skin was pale and swollen, the area having demanded his body to react to the potential bacteria that would worm its way into his system. You threw the bloody tissue aside and got an antiseptic wipe, being careful to not irritate his wound. Your care was gentle and patient. To a being like him, a hybrid and KorTac op, gentle and patient were foreign words to him. None were gentle to hybrids and none were patient with mercenaries. 

Even as you wrapped the gauze and bandage around his hand, you gave him all your attention, sweetly cradling his hand between yours and nursing his gash with utmost care. It felt alien, the soothingly soft care of a medic. Other medics would’ve stared at him with disgust or hate if he walked near the infirmary, or they were rough and uncaring towards his needs. 

“Thank you,” he mumbled, the sudden realisation of his silence in the face of a benevolent angel and the rush of embarrassment that flushed his neck hotly. He stared dumbly at his hand when you left, placed on his thigh with the white bandage staring right at him. The warmth of your hand had sunk into his skin, the feather-light tenderness of your fingers painted in his memory and your smile and determined expression stuck to him. 

Even as he let his mind wander and body thirst for another taste of your gentleness, he could feel the burning stares of the other men. König with his curious and envious gaze, wanting to feel the snippet you offered Horangi, wanting your hands and stare at his giant figure. The 141 with their protective and warning glare, resenting him for taking a few minutes of your attention from them. You’d moved on your own, making your decision to help him with his small wounds as you did with them, he hadn’t forced you or compelled you to treat him.

Perhaps there was more than money and experience that was worth in this joint operation. 

When the success of their first mission reached the prying ears of the General, he’d given them a few more joint ops - paid by the United States pockets, of course. Horangi and König were given temporary rooms in the barracks, in the same corner as the other hybrids and you, but far enough to show that they were excluded from them. Fortunately, they wouldn’t share the room, tigers were protective of one’s territory, and a percht hybrid - as rare as it may be - was documented to be hyper-possessive of their things, especially so for someone like König. 

Horangi didn’t ignore you anymore, wanting to start a conversation when he passed you or staring at you from the other side of the room until you waved at him, letting him know he could approach you. He worked relentlessly to close the gap he had made between you, wanting to attach himself to the one good thing he had. Yet he had to be cautious, any indication of him being a threat to you would make your team act out in unison, pushing him back and covering you like they did the second he descended the ramp. 

Ghost would hover over you, his body moving the darkness around him to seem more menacing. Ghost always glared at him when you turned your back to the Brit, his brown eyes swirling with the promise of death and devastation. Ghost wasn’t a physical hybrid, as Horangi had learned, but he had no qualms about keeping a hand on your hip or over your shoulder, acting as an imposing being that showcased his claim on you so publicly. It filled the Korean with envy and anger, he wanted to touch you as easily as the wraith did, he wanted a claim on you like the Lieutenant did, and he wanted to hold you close. 

If not Ghost, it’d be Rudy or Gaz crowding you. If you were in the rec room, Gaz would usually be there with you. His arm thrown over your shoulders, pulling you into his side while his wings curled around you two, dark brown feathers ruffled to look menacing but comfortable to your touch. With the way he sat, slouching and legs spread across the sofa, he took all the available seats on the cheap, brown couch. When Gaz caught sight of him, he’d purposefully moved to take up more space, showing just how much one of the nicest of the 141 ostracised him. Although when someone from his TF, he’d move aside, giving space to the man to join them. 

If you were walking around the base, Rudy - or Rudolfo as Horangi was forced to call him - would be by your side. Rudy had an arm wrapped around yours, seemingly like a military couple out on a casual walk, or he had his hand on your back, acting as the protective lover. Rudolfo’s smile was always wide and adoring when Horangi saw him walk you, exchanging words and making you laugh. It stung Horangi in an inexplicable way as if someone was knowingly sentencing him to death without any proof of his accountability. Rudy, the second nicest guy, also made glaring passes his way, pulling you closer to his side, directing you away and staring coldly at Horangi.

It rubbed him wrong, all the silent glares and insults at him to push him farther from you, but he was Horangi the Tiger haetae. He made his calculations, he was as smart and as resourceful as he was patient. Give it a few more missions together and they would loosen enough to let him swoop you off your feet. You were his source of comfort, of love and gentleness, he had to protect it. 

Unlike Horangi, König actively sought you out on the base, following the trail of your scent and the soft noises of your voice and heartbeat. He was like a dog on your trail, nose sniffing every bit of air for you and ears strained for any noise you’d make. His senses were stretched thin to find a moment with you. He was as animalistic as a hybrid could get, leaning towards his monster to help him with his ops and trials. 

You piqued König’s curiosity, making him wander the halls like a lumbering monster in a dark veil and glaring, red eyes. He saw how you treated big and dangerous monsters like the dragon hybrid you had as a captain, a respectable man, as soft as you treated the rowdy and rough werewolf and gracefully dangerous nagual. König wanted to feel your softness on him, your small hand grasping the tight muscles of his shoulders and back, kneading the tension away with grounding massages and stretches. You were their doctor, you cared enough to join them in the field, so you’d naturally be willing to mass the pain out of his body, no? 

He wanted moments alone, where he could speak his mind without fear of being interrupted or pushed away for his imposing stature and aura. He wanted to place a hand on your waist, to feel the plush roundness of your stomach and the firm contour of muscle on your thighs. He wanted his voice to carry easily in the void of silence, where his voice could be heard by you from a small whisper. He wanted your eyes to focus on him, solely, as if he was your world. 

He found it rather irritatingly difficult to find such moments. When he followed your scent through the halls and down to the medic's office, he’d find Captain Price crowding the room with his powerful musk of Ashe and fire - of metal and iron. Although Price was much shorter and lesser ranked than König was, he held the power of age and wisdom, an unfathomable strength that lay solely in draconic beings. This eternal power that none could rival apart from Eldritch beings, most cower, whimper and hide from dragons. He wore his power and wisdom on his sleeves, a warning for everyone, him and his KorTac operators included. König might’ve been reckless, but he wasn’t a fool, fighting headfirst with dragon seamed chaos and devastation. So, as any hybrid did, he backed away, an old dragon was dangerous, but a crippled one made it even more perilous.

When König tried to find you in the rec room, you were held in the tight embrace of a possessive wolf. Soap had you straddling his lap, facing him as he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck. He purred and kissed your skin, making you squirm and giggle, but then Soap’s eyes gazed upwards and grew cold and unruly at König’s appearance. A proud - dare he say, cruel - smirk curled the corners of his lips. That was when he realised what the sergeant was doing. Soap, in the open, was scenting you, rubbing his musk over your neck, where - if you were another sifting hybrid like him and Alejandro - would’ve been your scent gland. It was a blatant show of possession. He nipped at your throat, drinking in your yelp and hiss, your back arching and moving to push him from biting too much. It filled him with rage.

If you weren’t with either dragon or werewolf, you were with Alejandro, the Hispanic scenting you as much as Soap did, but he did it with more finesse and subtlety. He would draw your hair back, the gland on his wrist grazing your neck and ears, imprinting you with him. Alejandro would hold your hand, fingers neatly intertwined with yours, his face laying on your shoulder as he spooned you in his lap. He purred and whispered sweet promises that had you nodding and smiling like a child on Christmas. He oosed of pheromones, filling the area with his scent and in turn, covering you completely in him. König watched with envy as Alejandro read to you, cradled between his thighs and falling asleep, his, Soap and everyone else’s musk laying a possession over you. 

König’s a determined person when he put his mind to it, willing his beaten and bloodied self back to camp, or his sleep-deprived and insomniac-ridden mind to concentrate on the enemy. He was a battering ram, he pushed forward forcefully, however hard he had to, all to reach the end goal. This time, it wouldn’t be the head of his target, or the capture of an asset, this time, it would be you.

They both wondered, with how close your TF was, what was the dynamic. Was it a pack that shared the same lover? Was it a pack that had formed such a close connection to a human that you were deemed an integral part of the pack? Or were you the child they watched over and protected?

The next few missions 141 and the two from KorTac went on were as successful as the first, the cooperation of two ruthless mercenaries and a hybrid, specialist group made these tasks easy, near child’s play for them. Along with the aspect of having a medic on hand, it let them run wild, play along the edge and act more recklessly than they normally would. Having Horangi and König for so long, made them become a standard in the base, seeing them walk among the shorter and weaker humans. That also meant they had seen their fair share of xenophobic soldiers with balls bigger than a dragon’s and an ego the size of an Eldritch creature. 

Every hybrid and monster was used to their hateful glares and sneering venom-dripping words. Ignoring them had become easier after the first year of enrolment. Horangi and König were, however, not used to someone defending them with their most honest heart of gold with earth-shattering words. 

The first time they’d seen you defend your team was right after a mission, haunches, lumbering bodies descending the carrier’s ramp with their bags slung over their shoulders and addled with fatigue after a week of deployment. Young, power-hungry sergeants who’d let their ranks get to their heads had slid before them, head held high and shoulders held wide. Every single one of them knew that the moment the sergeant’s mouth opened, nothing good would come out of it. Perhaps degrading insults or back-handed sneers.

When the first sentence slipped from the man’s tongue, you pushed your way between them, barrelling into the man who’d insulted them. A deep frown was etched into your lips, brows creased so darkly into you that it cast a dark shroud of anger over your face. If König hadn’t known that you were a human, he would’ve thought that you were a being of darkness. 

“You dim-witted bastards-!” Was the first word you let out, your usually soft-spoken self with gentle hands spewed acid at them, threatening to burn their skin. 

Dim-witted, indeed. Old, conservative assholes who thought they were better than the rest with their pro-human propaganda and xenophobic acts against hybrids. Horangi had expected you to continue your scolding, wringing the sergeant dry with your words, not your hands. You used your hands, fingers curled inward, thumb over the curves of your bones and decked the man. It shocked them both, you were smaller, shorter, human and seemed weaker than the men, yet here you were, sending him toppling on the floor, his friend gaping and pouncing on you. Only to be met with your foot to his crotch. 

“You bet your ass you won’t get any medical attention after this,” you hissed.

Although your words sounded improbable since you weren’t the only medic on base, you had built a connection through the system, every medic knew you and heeded your words. If one didn’t want a man healed, you and the rest wouldn’t help him. If you wanted a man to suffer, the rest would watch on with you. Medics were themselves, a tight-knit couple that helped one another. So your words were more than a threat, it was a promise. 

“Until I see your sorry asses on your deathbed or grovelling, none of us will lift a finger for you. Bleed and beg all you want, but you aren’t getting help.”

You acted with an iron hand, sending the rest to the ground, moaning and groaning, cradling whatever part of their body you’d hit. They wondered why Ghost hadn’t moved, and neither did Gaz or Rudy, the most protective ones. When König glanced down at Ghost, he saw pride in his eyes, dark curled on sadistic pleasure swirling in his brown eyes. When Horangi gazed at Gaz and Rudy, he saw simple amusement, their mouths threatening to curl in a smirk.

All of them had known you’d act this way, erratic and violent rather than calmly scold them and stomp over their ego. You were strong-headed and blunt to them, making them bow to you, like lesser men to a lady, a queen, a goddess. 

Horangi had experienced his own protection from you. After the men had loosened enough to trust him and König, he could walk beside you and hold a simple banter, albeit awkward at the start. You were much more violent this time, reaching for the downed man while hissing and screeching after you sent him to the floor with well-aimed kicks. You were like a gremlin, small and lively. He understood your anger, they’d called him racist things, calling out his Asian roots and hybrid characteristics. 

Horangi had to hold you from going off on him following your promise of neglecting his medical needs. It worked, though. The first group had searched to plead, to apologise and beg for medical attention. You’d sent them away with a small note lifting the ban for medical help. You were as ruthless with people as they were to enemies. 

Any other encounters with hot-headed men and women that glanced at them weirdly were met with a varying amount of anger and disgust from you. Horangi understood why 141 held you so carefully, so tightly in their hold. Why they worshipped you like a priest would do with his goddess. It was a sense of camaraderie that had evolved into love, affection dripping from their pores. 

König received a bit more attention for his size, the threatening nature of his ouster coupled with his brute figure, made him a subject of fear and rejection. That hadn’t stopped you from wanting to approach him, had it? Going as far as calling him cute when he stuttered while broaching the subject of him liking certain things. For a burly man with the height of a giant, he was nice to sit next to, his quiet but anxious stature when he wasn’t deployed made it easy to talk to. He might sometimes let his instincts drive him, but they were all well-meaning, wanting nothing but goodness for you. 

His turn came in quick succession, he was shunned and ridiculed left and right. It never helped that he would shy from others, preferring his little corner that made the room look stranger and claustrophobic (not that he let them walk all over him, he growled and glared, standing tall with the promise of lashing out or eating them. Even when humans feared König, they still attempted to rile his anger.). But with you, he wasn’t by his lonesome, he had someone to rattle on about the things he liked to do, or the things he wanted to do. His shoulders were relaxed and mind calm, free to speak his mind about the goriest and the sweetest dreams he had, his speech unperturbed by his anxiety. 

Unlike the others, König stood before you as an impenetrable wall of muscle and fat when you raised your hand at an insignificant pig. Why would he let someone so disgusting touch you (even though it was to hit and kick the man, he would do it for you instead)? He guarded you as if they were insulting you rather than him - though it was the reverse - and glared down at anyone with dreadfully scary eyes. Like the devil that had risen, he sent them running with their tails tucked between their legs. Although he was the one that had gotten rid of them, he was always so proud of you, holding you close to him and gushing about your brave and inspiring actions. 

He saw how the men in 141 looked at you, he wanted to be a part of it, to be able to freely nuzzle your face and hold you like Soap would, to cradle you in his arms and carry you around the base. König wanted a piece of your heart, to be able to show the world he held it in his hands, caring for it between his big, calloused fingers and soft affection. He might be dangerous, he might be deadly, he might be reckless, but if you let him, you would be his world like you were to the others (Horangi would agree, they spoke about it on their own.).

Next

[renthony]

Join a union. You can join the IWW even if you're unemployed, self-employed, freelance, working under the table, too disabled to work at all, too broke to afford dues, or otherwise not eligible for other unions.

Get involved in your local community. Join a mutual aid organization. Join Food Not Bombs. Become a street medic. Attend city council and school board meetings. Collect signatures for petitions. Drive people to their voting locations, or help them find someone who can. Make use of your public library. Join your local native plant society and encourage your neighbors to plant pollinator-friendly things in their yards or on their balconies. Join a Buy Nothing group and give your neighbors things you don't need instead of throwing them away.

Pay attention to hyper-local, super-niche politics even when it isn't a major election year. Pick your favorite or most urgent political issue, and get involved in a group that's doing something about it. It doesn't matter if you can only do teeny-tiny actions, but please for the love of this great green earth, pick something that is local and material. If all you can do is signal boost your favorite local organization for others who can join fully and do more, that's still something.

Go vote, yes, but pick something else you can do, too. There are things that need doing even when it isn't an election year. If you're voting blue with the mindset that we're "picking our opponent for the next four years," you have to be ready to actually follow through and keep up the fight after the votes are tallied.

Don't abandon progressive organizations after the election. I watched it happen after Biden got elected in 2020, and it was demoralizing as hell. It's also why every member of my union branch is burnt out to hell and back. We need more people, and we need them desperately.

[iguessitsjustme]

It's really close now. If you haven't voted yet, please vote for Minoru and Tane. I'll be so extremely happy if they win.

Best Siblings Final Round: Jiang Yanli & Wei Wuxian & Jiang Cheng (The Untamed) vs Minoru & Tane (Our Dining Table)

[Submitted Reasons Under Cut]

Jiang Yanli & Wei Wuxian & Jiang Cheng: "I find it really hard to talk about them without going on a rant and crying. Yanli is the best big sister ever. She always puts her brothers first without fail and her care for them is the glue they need when they argue. Even though Wei Wuxian is not their biological sibling, trust and believe Yanli will shut down anyone who tries to minimize their relationship or claim Wei Wuxian isn’t her brother. In return, Wei Wuxian is fiercely protective of Yanli and will literally kill anyone who touches her. Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian both love her to absolute bits. The relationship between Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian is more complicated, but contains no less love. Ripped apart by circumstances out of their control on top of being constantly compared to each other growing up, they still have each other’s backs and canonically would die for each other and prove this multiple times. Yunmeng trio my beloved❤️"

Minoru & Tane: "Minoru and Tane are both wonderful characters and they bring so much complexity and sweetness out in each other. They've been through one of the most difficult losses imaginable together, the death of their mother. Being a parental figure to his younger brother isn't always easy for Minoru, and it doesn't always come naturally. But he always puts Tane first. When their mother died, everything else in Minoru's life was put on hold so that he could help care for Tane, including his social life. But he never resents Tane for this or takes it out on him. This might seem like a one-sided relationship, but it isn't. Tane has a lot to offer Minoru in return. He's an extremely sweet little boy who absolutely adores his big brother. His creativity, his humor, and his absolutely lethal level of cuteness bring joy to Minoru's life in a way nothing else does--until they meet Yutaka. Even then, Tane is the reason they got to know Yutaka in the first place. In lots of different ways, he creates the conditions needed for Minoru's relationship with Yutaka to be established, not least of which is the way their shared affection for Tane gives them something to bond over. But that's only one of the ways that Tane brings happiness, liveliness, and charm into Minoru's life. Bottom line, these brothers love each other immeasurably, are incredibly adorable together, and make each other's lives better every day."

[porcupine-girl]

Reminder to everyone who teaches students age 18+ in the United States:

It is NOT LEGAL to offer ANY INCENTIVE for a person to either vote or register to vote in an election with any federal positions on the ballot. I don’t know if it’s actually been tested in court, but this is generally assumed to include offering extra credit!

Do not offer extra credit for voting or registering to vote (and definitely don’t require it)!

HOWEVER. Things that ARE totally legal that I encourage you to do:

Remind your students of registration, absentee, and early voting deadlines.

Provide links to the necessary sites to do these (and warn against fake links).

Be available to answer questions about the registration or voting processes

Don’t have anything due on Election Day (and maybe the day after) and if you can, cancel class that day.

When I was in high school one of our teachers became a notary just so she could register students to vote when they turned 18 (I don’t know anything about that process).

Offer extra credit for (or if it’s relevant to the class, create assignments requiring) things like explaining/researching the registration or voting process, going to a polling station and writing observations (no photos!), researching candidates or issues, etc. Things that make it easy for them to just register/vote while they’re there, but they don’t have to.

Things that are legal but tbh I don’t encourage you to do unless it’s relevant to the class you’re teaching and you’re totally sure your school has your back if parents complain:

Tell them who/what you think they should vote for (or you’re voting for) and why

However, if any issues are relevant to your class obviously you can work them in in relevant ways. Just be careful of parents or students who think you’ve “got an agenda” - personally I always stick to the facts and let students draw their own conclusions.

For example: In our development chapter we cover prenatal development, and I’m careful to mention several facts that I could skip but that directly oppose anti-abortion taking points, such as the fact that you aren’t pregnant until you’re 2-4 weeks pregnant, there is no “heartbeat” at six weeks, only an electrical pulse, and as far as we can tell fetuses cannot feel pain until myelination of their nerves starts around 25-27 weeks. I’ve noticed some students who look pleased that I’ve mentioned these things as well as students who are clearly surprised by them. I never mention abortion, and anyone trying to claim I’m pushing a pro-choice agenda would be hard pressed to demonstrate that I’m doing anything other than conveying the scientifically-supported facts of prenatal development.

It’s an unfortunate fact that it can be dangerous for teachers at any level to give any indication that we aren’t apolitical beings, but you know and I know that just getting people to register and vote (especially young people), without a single word about who to vote for, benefits the left more than the right.

They know it too, but I’d like to see a parent complain about my providing links to voting registration without admitting they just don’t want people with every right to vote to actually do it.