#postcards to swing states

[the-forest-library]

Help Get the Vote Out - US

Sending postcards to encourage registered voters to vote in the upcoming election is an easy way you can help get the vote out from home. I’ve done this through two different organizations: Postcards to Voters and Postcards to Swing States.

With this group, you:

Purchase your own postcards.

Purchase stamps.

Can choose the to send smaller amounts of postcards (e.g, 10).

With this group, you:

Will receive free postcards from the organization.

Purchase stamps.

Send larger amounts of postcards (from what I’ve seen, the minimum is 200, but you can write them over time or get some folks to help you).

Stamps

Buy postcard stamps, not first class stamps - they’re cheaper!

[jomiddlemarch]

US Tumblrians, this is our time to shine! Break out your fine-tip markers and your favorite playlists and beverage of choice and get ready to save democracy-- from your home! If you are under 18, you can still participate!

These postcards have been found to increase voter turnout by about 1.3% which is actually A Big F-ing Deal when you consider the margin of victory in swing states.

States getting postcards (drum roll...): Arizona, Florida, Georgia, Michigan, Montana, North Carolina, Nevada, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Texas, Wisconsin!

In many of these states, there are bills to protect access to reproductive health AS WELL AS the presidential and Senate elections.

You are sent a list of addresses and three templated messages to choose from. You order as few as 200 postcards and the mail date is in October. They also send you the state themed postcards and there are always a few extras for mistakes and keepsakes. I keep a card from every campaign I write for (assuming I have one) in the same album I keep all my holiday photo cards.

Save democracy! Use your voice! You can include children in this and if you have issues with handwriting and the financial leeway, you can simply donate to the organization. If all you can do is reblog this post, that counts too (and if you're not from the US but you still want to reblog this, thanks!)

I'd love to see this post go big, so am tagging some good friends because that's the way we make a difference-- TOGETHER!

Tagging @tessa-quayle @fericita-s @mercurygray @tortoisesshells @asteraceae-blue @amarguerite @aquitainequeen @oldshrewsburyian @artielu @iamstartraveller776 @theburnbarreljester @orlissa and anyone else who is willing!

[labelleizzy]

Hey Check Please family,

I was actually tickled to death, when postcards to swing states sent me a packet of postcards to send to Georgia. And I think of our boy Eric Bittle every so often as I'm writing these things!

I would love to have a recommendation for a fic to read as a reward for finishing doing another batch of postcards I have written 100 so far and I have 200 total to go.

Have you written, or do you recommend, a story set in Georgia or with Eric's parents as an important part of the story, in which his parents are accepting, loving, and willing to change their mind if they had trouble with him being gay in the first place?

This is actually a lot of work. And I have to mail out for October 24th. I'm going to actually go get acetaminophen and an ice pack for my hand pause for a little while cuz my arms are starting to hurt

[feedists4progress]

hey did you know that you can get strega nona stamps? and you can put them on postcards to swing state voters via activate america??

[angryspookyexpert]

Do something, whatever you can!

[3months2mordor]

Mod Rosie has spent the morning filling out reminders to vote for swing staters and listening to the Hobbit audiobook.

Did you know that the Hobbits dutifully elect a Mayor of Hobbiton? Be like Hobbits!

If you need a reminder or any other information about voting in your state visit this website!

[oak1985]

Postcards to swing states! 300 people in New Jersey are getting bugged by me!

Tumblr friends who are in the US and of voting age, this message is for you, too:

[axmxz]

and if you'd like to get involved beforehand, and help turn out the vote, check out https://postcardstovoters.org

Postcards to Voters sends friendly, handwritten reminders from volunteers to targeted voters, giving Democrats a winning edge in close, key races coast to coast.

Not just state or federal level, either - sometimes it's city or even school board, because key decisions are made at those levels too!

Or earlier! Any red state can turn blue if enough voters turn out.

[nfinitefreetime]

Postcard, annotated

You can probably expect me to keep rattling on about this until these damn things are all done; I managed 35 of them today, and I’m done with almost half of them. My stamina seems to be growing, so I’ll shoot for 40 tomorrow and see what happens to my handwriting at the end. Anyway, I’ve been fiddling with the message I’m supposed to write on these things as I’ve been going through and I think…

[qqueenofhades]

do you have any suggestions for organizations or groups or something that are doing any kind of voting campaign/vote dem campaign? i remember in 2020 there was a huge push to do phone banking in swing states, but im seeing almost none of that now, and its making me a bit nervous about the outcome of the election

Sure! Here are some ideas:

Find your state Democratic party for specific networking/volunteering/connecting opportunities in your city or region:

Or volunteer for the national party:

Volunteer for the Biden-Harris campaign! Apparently, regardless of whatever media bullshit it set off, the debate DID result in a huge surge of campaign volunteers in swing states especially, so this is a great time to sign up:

Write postcards for Democratic voters!

Or postcards especially for Democratic voters in swing states:

Have the spoons to make phone calls for Democrats? Do it here:

Read Hopium Chronicles: it is a much-needed antidote to media doomerism and it gives lots of daily volunteering/donating/action tips to Do More, Worry Less:

Give money to Joe Biden and Kamala Harris:

Give to 12 Democrats running in highly flippable House races:

Give or volunteer for a Democratic Senate (ESPECIALLY IMPORTANT if we're going to flip SCOTUS and the map is very hairy this year):

Doing even a bit of this will help you feel better than sitting and worrying. Good luck and go get 'em!

[coralreeferband]

Order more Postcards to Swing States

Get yours here:

[the-forest-library]

Send Postcards To Voters - New Availability!

Sign-ups for postcards are back open as Postcards to Swing States makes a final push for 40 million postcards to rally Democrats to vote! They will likely send you postcards for a competitive US House district or Florida, though they have some additional voter lists for swing states and Ohio. If you aren't willing to write to voters for whatever list they send you, please do not sign up.

The mailing dates for these final orders are between Oct 24 and Oct 29. They'll ship the postcards as quickly as possible. There's also an option to opt-in to write postcards to persuadable seniors about the importance of voting for Democrats in order to protect social security from Republican proposals to cut this vital program.   Please note: You will be responsible for providing Postcard Stamps, which are currently $0.56. They'll mail you free postcards, along with voter lists and instructions with proven message options.

[batboyblog]

Thanks so much for deciding to continue your "Democratic accomplishments of the week" posts -- they have been super educational and have often inspired me to go out and do things when I've felt down or defeatist.

you're welcome and I'm glad they help.

I hope one of the things it has inspired you (not just you this for everyone reading this, hello, hi) to do is sign up to Volunteer, in the first day of her campaign Kamala Harris netted a very impressive $81 million from 880,000 grassroots Americans many giving for the first time, but to me WAY more important is the campaign has seen a surge in people signing up to volunteer in the swing states, so I hope everyone takes time today to make a plan to volunteer in some way before November.

The Harris Campaign

Look for Events and volunteer near you

Find a local Young Progressive running for office near you

if you don't live in a swing state there are lots of options to call or write postcards/letters to people who live in key battle grounds, if you live near a swing state there are always groups organizing to go volunteer in the nearest swing state, and where ever you live there are always important key races, be it for the US Senate (Montana, Ohio, Maryland) for the US House (New York) or state or even local level elections, all across the country radical anti-LGBT anti-black activists have run for school boards trying to push Queer people and diversity out of schools, in your community there could be someone running to stop that and your hard work could make all the difference

No Matter any one's age or location we all have the ability to make a big big difference this year, and I say this ALL the time, nothing help the stress and anxiety of current events more than going out and doing something, so often the world and its events are so upsetting because it feels so out of your control, when you go out and knock doors, make calls, whatever, you feel like you're making a difference and it helps so so much.

[neoneun-au]

ARRIVAL; C.SC

―PAIRING: choi seungcheol x reader ―GENRE: angst, romance, floaty in between sort of fic, lite!farmer au ―WORD COUNT: 2.3k ―WARNINGS: rewritten from my old blog for svt.

The old house comes into view over the horizon. The weathered white boards of the house’s exterior are bathed in the soft pink-gold of dusk as it sits as a proud sentinel on the hill overlooking the expansive fields and orchards before it. Gnarled apple trees, trunks twisted with time, heaving their bounties towards the home; sun dappled honey wheat fields rippling with the wind but always sighing towards the white watchman above. And you, similarly facing, steady gaze directed like a ship to a lighthouse.

It looked the same as it did the day you left, all those years ago. Watching it fade into the quiet mist of the morning as you left it behind to walk forward into the unknown. And now it sits still, unchanged, if a little more weatherbeaten, watching as you walk back into view–travel-worn suitcase clutched tightly in your grip. 

Gravel crunches underfoot as you make your way down the path towards the house–nervous anticipation fluttering in your chest with each step. Hope and fear intermingle in the hollow of your stomach–dancing together like two birds. 

You hadn’t planned your return. Not really. 

When you set out to find yourself in the world beyond the village, you left without a plan in mind. Simply answering a call to your soul. You couldn’t say how long you would be gone or even what it was you were setting out in search of,  but somewhere inside you knew the day would come–whether it be the next day, year, or decade–when you would hear a similar call to return. Back to the fields, back to the house, back to the boy you left behind. 

The splintered boards of the veranda creak under your weight as you walk to the front door–an audible sign of your approach. For a brief moment you pause, hand poised over the doorknob, and inhale deeply. The air smells as crisp with the scent of the morning air and the apple orchard nearby as you remember it. The faint scent of spring lilac and inherited dust. 

Suddenly you feel out of place. An intruder at the threshold of someone else's home. Someone else's life. It was easy to convince yourself as you explored the world that everything would be the same when you eventually made your return. That the house, and Seungcheol himself would still  be there, frozen in time, waiting as he had said he would. But now you were not so certain. The walls of time collapse around you, and you run your hands along the length of them. Feeling the passage of it. How long it has been. 

With a shaking breath you pull yourself back to the present and retract your hand from the knob, opting instead to rap your knuckles against the door. 

You sent no word ahead about your return. No letters or postcards. Just hopped on a train and then all of a sudden, here you were. So you weren’t sure what the welcome would be like. Whether or not you would even be welcome. Was he even home? 

Footfalls on the staircase inside answer your question as your hand falls back against your side and you wait–body coiled in a tight rope of tension, ready to snap at any moment. You take a small step backwards as the door swings open to reveal Seungcheol–sleep still crowding at the corners of his eyes as he blinks you into focus. 

“You’re back,” he states–voice a half-whisper–eyes widening with the surprise of your presence before him. Standing on the porch, coated in the soft morning glow of the sunrise. 

“I am,” you nod slowly, adjusting the suitcase in your grip. Time stretches between you for a moment–thousands of unspoken words flitting in and out with the speckles of dust in the air–and you stand across from each other in silence; the closest you have been in years, but still miles apart. 

Seungcheol clears his throat and steps aside, gesturing for you to enter the house and you let out a shaky exhale before stepping across the threshold. 

The interior of the old farmhouse, much like the exterior, is virtually unaltered from your memories. The same generations of Choi family portraits hang along the staircase, the same light blue eggshell paint adorns the crown molding, and the same floral wallpaper covers the bare boards of the walls. You take a cursory glance around, heart beating with the pulse of a thousand memories, and breathe in the past. 

Seungcheol takes your suitcase from you as you look around and hauls it upstairs without a word. In his absence you take a moment to walk around the ground floor of the house, running your finger along furniture and tabletops. Curious as to how he has filled his time and his home while you’ve been away. The vase of fresh flowers you always insisted he kept in the kitchen window are still there–slightly withered and in need of replacement soon. A small stack of books you had left unread on the side table still sits stacked in the same order you left them–carefully dusted, but unchanged. You briefly wonder if he had picked them up at some point–seeking some answers, some connection to your thoughts in the wake of your departure. 

“Have you eaten?” he asks as he steps into the kitchen behind you, hand ghosting over your back as he slides past you towards the fridge.

“No,” you shake your head, slipping your coat off and draping it over the back of a kitchen chair before taking a seat. With a soft smile you watch as he busies himself gathering a last minute breakfast of assorted fruits and breads. His back is turned to you but you can see the change in him even through the fabric of his sweater. His muscles are more hewn with seasons of work–formed in careful dedication over time. The Seungcheol of your memory is fresh faced with the kiss of youth. Rounded and soft. But the Seungcheol before you now has grown into himself; his jaw has sharpened slightly, his mouth is set in a straighter line. Seriousness creases itself around the skin of his eyes. You try to adjust your image of him to match the current reality but the boy you remember stealing kisses from in the orchards outside remains. 

“If I had known you were coming, I would have gotten some more groceries,” he says by way of apology as he sets the platter of food down in the center of the old kitchen table. 

You shake your head in dismissal and reach for a slice of green apple. Crisp and fresh–no doubt plucked from one of the trees just outside the windows of the house. “It’s fine. This is perfect.” 

You make no move to speak further and he follows suit. Instead you settle into a rhythm of eating in silence. Allowing yourself to slip back into space together–atom by atom getting used to the proximity once more. Birds chirp outside the window, passing the time in chatter and short flights to and from their nests as the sun rises higher and higher in the sky. 

Seungcheol heads into the fields after breakfast. 

You watch as he disappears over the horizon, tools slung over his shoulder, and gets to work tending the crops and plants. There isn’t much to be done this time of you, you recall. Just simple trimming and harvesting a few ripened fruits before they fall to the earth and belong to the insects and critters below. But even what little there is to do takes time, so you take the opportunity to head upstairs and finish recollecting your memories of the old house. 

He had set your suitcase down in the guest room immediately at the top of the stairs. The blankets were pulled taut over the mattress–clean with lack of use–and your favourite pair of slippers were placed on the floor next to the nightstand. You drift out of the guest room and venture further down the hallway, sparing a passing glance into the reading room and the bathroom as you make your way to the bedroom at the end of the stretch. 

A similar feeling of not belonging settles back over you as you lift a hand to push open the door but you brush it aside–curiosity overwhelming any desire to tread lightly. 

The whole house feels like a time capsule. You felt it earlier as you stepped cautiously through each room–your presence a traveler through the ages, unbidden and disruptive to the daily minutiae. As if all of those years you spent chasing some unknown aspect of yourself across the other side of the world ceased to exist the moment you crossed the threshold into this old wood-framed home. No where is that feeling more potent than inside the master bedroom. 

You feel twenty again. Standing on the precipice of your new life. Kissing your first love goodbye and making promises that you didn’t know you if you would even be able to keep. The comforter on the bed, slightly messed still from sleep, is the same as all those years ago when you tangled yourself up in them with Seungcheol–skin against skin. The only indication of time that makes itself known in the room is the collection of postcards on the nightstand. 

Dozens of them. More from the first few years of your journeys, when you still dotted your ‘i’s with hearts and ended each letter with ‘xoxo’. 

With a swelling heart and shaking hands you pick up the stack of letters, flipping through each one and noting the smudges of ink and indentations of fingerprints on each of them. Some are more worn than others; all clearly read over a hundred times. 

You absorb yourself in the postcards–trying to place yourself in Seungcheol’s shoes when he had received them. Monthly at first, as consistent as you could be considering the complications that invariably accompany a life of travel. Then every few months, every six months, and finally almost no word for a year and a half until you arrived at his front door out of the blue. 

He could be difficult to read when he wanted to be. When his thoughts and feelings felt like heavy burdens to bear and  were thus kept close to his chest, unvocalized until they had to be. Simmering under the surface of steadiness that he presented on the outside. Aside from the small alarm bell you saw ringing behind his eyes this morning, you weren’t sure where you stood with him currently. Whether he felt you as much of an intruder in his space now as you did. 

You lose yourself in reminiscence and don’t notice Seungcheol’s arrival in the room behind you until his arm snakes around and plucks the stack of postcards from your grasp. “I wasn’t sure if you would come back,” he says, dropping the cards into the nightstand drawer. 

“I said I would,” you respond softly, voice on the edge of cracking. “I didn’t think you would still be waiting.”

“I said I would,” he says before slipping past you and heading back down the hall, leaving you with your swirling thoughts.

The day dissolves into night. The thread of the unknown is pulled taut between you as the hours drag onwards and you get ready for bed down the hallway from Seungcheol. Owls hoot in the distance–the only sound breaking up the running of water from the shower in the master bathroom. 

You slip under the covers, curling up on your side, and close your eyes. It had been years since you had been somewhere so quiet. It was almost disconcerting. No sirens, no people, no traffic. Only an owl and the quiet footsteps of one man as he slips into bed two rooms away from you. You lay awake for what feels like hours–blinking into the darkness of the guest room. The silence, unlike the idyllic calm of the daytime, was almost suffocating. It had been so natural when you were younger. Darkness descended and along with it, the world went to sleep. Sound disappeared. But now, after so many years of noise and colour, it was difficult to readjust. It felt like at any moment the long arms of darkness would reach out and grab hold of you where you lay. 

You sigh and before you can rethink the impulse, you push yourself out from under the covers, slip your bare feet into the prepared slippers, and pad down the hallway towards Seungcheol’s room. The door creaks slightly on its hinges as you push it open–a hallmark of its age–and you wince, but Seungcheol makes no indication of waking as you step further into the room. 

Seungcheol lets out a soft sigh as you climb into his bed next to him–eschewing all thoughts of propriety and hesitation that flood your brain as you do. “Is this okay?” you ask, and as soon as he hums his approval you sink into the mattress. Tucking your body into the familiar curve of his side. 

“Where have you been?” he asks, voice quiet–reverent. He shifts his body next to you, adjusting so that your head falls onto his shoulder and his arm is tucked up underneath you, hand coming around to rest against your back. Finally, you think.

“All over,” you answer, afraid that if you give too many details you might break the spell of the moment and remind him of the distance.

“Well,” he sighs, shifting once more. His breath fans out of the skin of your cheek as he leans in to press a soft kiss against it, “welcome home.” 

“Happy to be back,” you smile, feeling the warmth of tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as you do so. The final remnants of the lingering energy of intrusion melt away in his arms. You do feel at home–finally after so many years of trying to find it elsewhere. 

“Did you find what you were looking for?” he asks, words broken halfway by a yawn. 

“Yeah,” you nod, sinking further into him as he drifts off to sleep, “I think I did.”

© 2024, neoneun-au. all rights reserved.

if you read and enjoyed this, please consider reblogging and letting me know what you thought ! its really the only reason i keep writing anything

[gingersnapwolves]

so I had some thoughts on the burnout post but didn't want to hijack it so this is just my own rambling attempt to process the feelings I've been struggling with for two days which obviously not everyone wants to read, thus my putting a read more

I've been crying off and on for the past couple days which is really no surprise, and I've been trying to avoid political news and political posts. In fact, after this I plan to hide the political tags for a while, heavily curate my Reddit experience, and then do I don't even know what with all my new free time

because I don't talk about it a lot here, this is my fandom space, my casual space, and I'll sometimes post about personal stuff but almost never politics, but I am actually very political. 'member of multiple political mailing lists, have marched in many protests, write postcards to swing state voters' political. and I want to talk a little about why this defeat feels different. because this crushed me in a way that 2016 did not.

the thing is. over the past few days I've seen a lot of people talking about how if you didn't realize Trump was going to win, you live in a bubble. and I think to a certain extent that's true. we all have our little echo chambers. but for me, at least, and a lot of the people I know, it wasn't just that. it was this core certainty that Trump would not win, could not win, because surely our country wasn't like that. surely our fellow Americans were not like that. it wasn't about competency or about policy. it was about basic human decency. and that's what I feel like we lost. not an election. but any remaining belief we had that people are basically good.

because it seems they're not. at least not around here. the cold hard fact at the end of the day is that the majority of our country looked at a senile, racist, fascist criminal grifter [eta: how could I forget rapist in that description?] and either actively wanted him to hold the highest office in the land, or just didn't care whether or not he did. they know exactly what he's going to do, and they're fine with it. and that hurts so much that it is nearly unbearable.

how do you move on from that? how do you cope with the fact that there's something so deeply rotten at the core of your fellow man? how do you deal with that? how do you fight back?

I am full of so much grief that I literally don't know where to put it.

so I don't want to fight anymore. I'm tired. I'm nauseated. I'm angry. But most of all, I'm sad. I can't do it right now. and I think that's probably okay. I think in six weeks or six months I'll feel differently. but right now I just can't do it. and I think the most important thing really can be to take a step back and focus on something else. because I know these feelings are not productive. I know that there are still good people out there and there are still things worth fighting for. but right now, all I feel is this aching chasm where my faith in humanity used to be.

so I'm unplugging - not from fandom or tumblr, but from politics and news - for at least a little while. sometimes that's the most important thing to do if you want to still be able to get out of bed in the morning.