#which i do care. i want to donate but i barely have enough money for myself and my girlfriend to live happily

[evilmagician430]

college is making me want to shoot myself in the head really bad, which is crazy because i thought i was completely done with feeling suicidal after highschool ended. my life is looking up and i have a lot to look forward to.

but the funny thing is. that beautiful future, which is the reason i don't want to die, is only obtainable through going to college and working very hard and stressing myself out all the time. which, in turn, makes me want to die.

[dee-the-red-witch]

Okay, this is it.

It's been ten years of fucked-up, and it's been ramping up more and more over the last three since I came out. Between getting used emotionally and financially to be the sole support for this family, Getting harmed daily by a kid that I want to love and support but who can't understand who this stranger is that replace his dad and more and more things on top of it. To the point where I've had no resources, barely any energy to work or function, and near constantly hit adrenaline rush responses at random loud noises. But things are moving forward. Monday, my son moves into care that's well-equipped for him, and they'll be better for him than I ever will be at this point or any time in the future. My oldest kid is old enough to be independent and start doing their own thing enough to get out of here. I don't have to worry about or protect them.

I can get out. Just move, on my own, find a safe place and rest and heal. Finally. Just, I have zero resources to do it with. The last decade has fucked my credit and rental history badly, I'm sure, as well. Which means finding a place within my normal budget and sweetening the pot by pre-paying as many extra months as I can. Plus that way I can be covered for housing during my transition surgery recoveries, since this family and apartment managed to drain every last cent from my transition fund to keep from becoming unhoused. And it'll mean me having to do a lot less asking for support and help, because I won't be supporting four people on one income any longer. But all of that means I need to get money together. Quick. And a lot. At least 5k, if not closer to ten. So, yeah, I'm asking for help again. To donate: http://paypal.me/tormentedartifacts

If you want to get something in return for helping, there's also always http://tormentedartifacts.com but I'll be clear. Anything big ordered right now is likely not happening until after I move, if not after my surgery recovery, since I won't be able to sit fully upright or work for a big chunk of that. Which means you may not see it until next year.

But anything helps. Please. Even just five bucks. And so does reblogging and sharing this wherever you can. So, if you do, thanks.

[ladykailitha]

Paper Hearts Part 2

I'm loving the response for this. Thank you so much!!!

In this we have a couple of cameos, Steve gets into some trouble and Eddie comes to his rescue.

Pt 1

****

Steve checked with the nurse on Monday, more as a precaution then because his hand was feeling worse. Because Eddie was right. If he didn’t take care of himself no else would.

She signed off on the hand and said that it was doing better, but to still take it easy for a couple more days.

He tried to focus in class, but he was buzzing out of his skin with barely contained excitement.

Finally it was time for lunch and he ducked into library. He pulled out the year book and began jotting down a few names. He decided to stick to just seniors as that would prevent people thinking he was being a creep and of course the add bonus of avoiding a certain Junior’s ire.

Once he got about twenty names compiled he took the list up to the girls manning the paper hearts booth.

“Hey,” he greeted warmly.

“How can I help you?” the blonde haired girl asked.

“These can be anonymous right?” Steve asked chewing on his bottom lip.

The other girl, a cute bubbly red-head in a cheerleader’s uniform smiled up at him. “Sure! Is there a certain lady you would like to buy a red heart for?”

He shook his head. “Um...no. Can I get twenty pink hearts please?”

The two girls shared a shocked glance.

“How many?” the blonde asked.

“Twenty.” Steve pulled out his wallet and handed them two ten dollar bills.

The stunned blonde took the money as the red-head counted out the twenty pink hearts.

“There you go!” she said cheerfully. “Thank you for your donation!”

“I just have one question,” Steve asked. “Why are a couple of juniors manning the booth for senior prom?”

The girls’ jaws dropped in surprise that he recognized them as juniors.

The blonde managed to overcome her shock first. “They were asking for volunteers. We get extra credit.”

Steve nodded. “Thanks, ladies!”

He turned around and nearly collided with Munson.

“Oof!” he cried. “Sorry!”

Munson eyed him warily. “Why so many pink hearts, Harrington?” He crossed his arms and licked his bottom lip slowly.

Steve looked back at the two girls and then back at him. “I don’t have a girlfriend this year and but still have all this money, so I thought that instead of blowing it on junk food and soda to be all sad that night, I do something nice with the money.”

Eddie cocked his head to the side and considered him a moment. “And what would that be?”

Steve blushed and looked down at the paper hearts in his hands. He mumbled something Eddie couldn’t quite catch.

“Say that again?”

“I said I was going to write something nice for the girls not likely to get one,” he hissed, this time loud enough for the other boy to hear, but no one else.

Eddie blinked at him a moment. “Oh. That’s actually really sweet of you.”

Steve’s blush deepened and promptly turned on his heel and dashed away.

The red-head asked, “What was all that about?”

Eddie looked over at Chrissy Cunningham, the girl he had no doubt would be queen of Hawkins high next year with her perfect boyfriend, her bubbly personality, and cheerful nature.

He debated telling her what Steve’s plan was, but he didn’t want to ruin it for the guy.

“I honestly don’t know.”

Which to be fair was true. He didn’t know what that was about. How former king of Hawkins could be so sweet? Because hooboy did that throw a wrench in Eddie’s plans to never ever give into his crush on the guy. If Steve wasn’t the bitchy, annoying jock anymore than that last bastion of defense was going to fall and he would be like every other girl with a pair of eyes at this school.

In love with Steve Harrington.

He opened his wallet and counted how much money he had. He rationed gas and other expenses before he nodded to himself.

He walked over to the booth and asked for a single red heart.

“Ooh...” the blonde girl cooed. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

Eddie noticed her for the first as he handed her the money. It was Robin Buckley from band. Eddie had tried it out for a semester hoping to get enough credits to graduate last year. It didn’t work. But he recognized a fellow queer when he saw one.

“Maybe I’m sending it to myself?” he teased.

Chrissy giggled into her hand. “That’s what I would do if I didn’t have a boyfriend.”

Robin blushed a dark pink.

“You’d never have to worry about that,” Eddie said.

She handed him the heart and he thanked her before heading on his way.

****

Steve suddenly felt self-conscious after telling Munson what he was going to to. But he resolved to go through with his plan.

That night he painstakingly wrote each girl’s name and something nice he remembered about them. Once he was finished he used a paper clip to keep them together and put it between the pages of his English workbook for safety.

He finished his homework. Or at least he tried to. After about an hour, the words on the pages started to blur.

It didn’t help that it was chemistry and that just made his head spin. He would have called Dustin, but the kid would have just done it for him after five minutes of trying to explain it to him.

He decided it was time for a break.

Steve stood up and stretched. Below him he could hear the hum of the TV in his father’s den and the prattling of his mother on the phone. He wasn’t sure how they managed it in a house as big as theirs but they always made sure Steve was aware they were home.

He always thought it was a weird control thing they had. They were always gone on trips but when they were home they made sure he knew it.

He changed into a pair of sweats, grabbed a jacket and pulled on his Nikes, having decided that a run would be the perfect thing to wake him up so that he could finish his homework. He stood by the front doors and stretched out his legs, making sure they were warmed up enough.

Steve was finishing the last of his stretches when his mother came out the kitchen.

“And where do you think you’re going, young man?” she hissed.

He looked at her in confusion. He had one leg bent all the way back so that his foot was nearly touching his ass. He was managing his balance by using his free hand to touch the door frame.

“Going for a run?” he said, making the statement more of a question.

“At this time of night?” Mrs. Harrington said sharply.

Steve looked at his watch and then back up at her, again in confusion. It was only a little after five o’clock in the evening.

“I wanted to get it before it too dark to,” he explained.

She looked at her watch and then huffed, storming back into the kitchen.

That was the problem with his mother. You could never tell when she was just going to let it go or fly off the handle.

Steve let out a shuddering breath and then opened the door. He closed it behind him and sighed.

He should have told her he was going for a run, but even with them making noise, he had forgotten that he was supposed to tell them where he was going. Having gotten too used to them not being home.

He let out a shiver as he shook his arms to warm them up. If he had been doing anything other than running he would have worn a warmer coat, but while he was cold now, he sure as hell wasn’t going to be in five minutes.

Steve took off running. Just sprinting down the street to get away from his parents, his responsibilities, his troubles, and his cares. He got to the end of the street and slowed his sprint into a marathon. Going for endurance over speed.

He wasn’t sure how long he ran only that when he stopped for breath he was standing in front of a large sign that read: Forest Hills Trailer Park. He squinted up at it like he was seeing things.

Despite what the haves in Loch Nora thought, the trailer park was a lot closer than they wanted it to be. It was literally on the other side of the forest behind his house. But as he hadn’t taken off through the forest, he was a little surprised to be standing there, hands on his hips and panting for breath.

If he was going to mindlessly go somewhere he thought for sure he would have ended up at the Hendersons.

But, nope.

Steve ran his fingers through his hair. How was he supposed to get home now? He squinted down at his watch trying to make out the time, but full dark had taken a hold on this god forsaken town and he couldn’t make out shit.

He wasn’t even sure he could find the entrance to the forest that would lead him back home. Not that he wanted to go through that part of the woods this late at night. The Department of Energy’s assurances be damned.

“Fuck!”

He heard the vehicle before he saw the headlights. He stepped out of the way and hoped that whoever it was would be willing to give him a lift home.

“Fuck!” he cursed again.

Because it was Munson. Of course it was. This day was really out to get him.

“Harrington!” Munson called out, slowing to stop next to him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Steve buried his head in his hands. He had to take a chance with Munson because he didn’t know if there would even be someone else coming in anytime in the near future.

“Would you believe me if I told you I got lost?” he asked, hands back on his hips.

Munson laughed and threw open his passenger side door. “Get in, dumbass. I have to stop at my place to let my uncle know I’m taking you home.”

Steve nodded and walked in front of the van. Mainly because that’s where the lights where, but also because he didn’t want Munson to drive off without him. If he tried that, he’d have to run Steve over. Which at this point would have been an improvement.

He hopped into the van and closed the door. “Thanks. I’m serious about the getting lost thing though.” He buckled in.

Munson gunned it and then gave him the side eye. “Yeah, how does that work for a Hawkins native?”

“Because I’m not?” Steve said. “I moved here when I was eight. I’m no more a native than you are, man.”

Munson slammed on the breaks, Steve’s hand shooting out in front of him. “Wait, you’re really not a Hawkins native?”

He shook his head. “I swear it.”

Munson started going down the road again. “So you managed to get lost?”

“Yeah, I sometimes run to get out of my head,” he explained. “I somehow I ended up here.” He looked at the road out in front of him. “My parents are probably going to kick my ass when I get home. I left before dinner and there is no way it’s not way passed that now.”

Munson pressed a button on his watch and it lit up. “Yeah, man. It’s almost seven.”

Suddenly every muscle in Steve’s body started screaming in protest.

“Shit,” he muttered and he buried his head in his hands. “I’ve been running for about two hours.”

Munson slammed on his breaks again. “The fuck, Harrington!”

“I know!” Steve cried. “I barely warmed up and I didn’t have any water with me. But I didn’t mean to run that long. I thought I was just going to go around the block a couple of times and then go in for dinner.”

“We’re getting you water and food before I send you home, man,” Munson mutter. “And I don’t want to hear a god damn complaint from you. Do you understand? Even I’m not stupid enough to go for two hours without stopping for breaks and drinking water.”

Steve just nodded. He had already gotten yelled at by Munson about not taking care of himself, he wasn’t about to endure another lecture.

****

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Tag List:

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

2- @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie

3- @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666

4- @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

5- @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690

6- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

7- @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

8- @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @swimmingbirdrunningrock

9- @croatoan-like-its-hot @lolawonsstuff @moonshadows-13

[rotzaprachim]

one of the things that’s so grotesque is like, never in my life have I ever felt people en masse really cared very much about Jews or wanted us to be safe, and that includes Israelis. They don’t care about us but we can be used to justify so so much mass death on people who never hurt us at all. I spent four years living in a horrific Antisemitism Country, a now “neutral” Western European power which killed Jews, expelled jews, banned Jews for hundreds of years. There were large Eastern European and middle eastern diasporas there and I was almost always the First Jew anyone had ever met - or that had admitted to being Jewish. People regularly assumed jews controlled the world media. I got harassed for - yes- the idea of Zionist infiltration, for being one of the evil Zionists people knew controlled the world. One time I left shule with a friend who had forgotten to take his kippah off and a group of drunks coming out of a bar physically shook us as we walked by. To get to Jewish events I walked over the literally former “Jewry” where Jews had lived in the medieval era but were expelled and which had me ember been rebuilt or returned to Jews. When I was in university the most famous fascist family in the country donated money to one of the most famous universities in the country in order to have a building named after their fascist family name and people agreed to it! In university someone gave off a long Hitler impersonation at a general event and the manager of the event refused to end it or call him out. We always always looked over our shoulders. My friends who were Israelis, who came from Iraqi and Indian and Persian Jewish families, described racial and ethnic harassment that occured to them all the time from people who saw Brown people and decided it was time for racism. Even Ashkenazi Israelis I knew were harassed for being Too middle eastern, too foreign, their language Hebrew too strange. We just lived with it all. relatively speaking this is small stuff. *minor.* it’s not like what’s happening in Gaza and it never will be. But what it was was years of accumulated pain, and the understanding that the country did not love us and was unwilling to do much but the bare minimum to let us live. And then three weeks ago the leader of that country got up and declared support for the state of Israel because of his support for the Jews. And he’s stood by that. He’s stood supporting the state of Israel as they’ve killed over seven thousand people, including thousands of children. My safety wasn’t important enough when I lived in *their* country to be much worth doing anything about, anything that might slice into the rind of how awful and alienating and antisemitic that culture was, but it’s also important enough to be worth the violent murder of thousands of children. NO ONE EVER FUCKING ASKED ME WHAT WOULD MAKE ME SAFE, BUT THEY DID DECIDE THOUSANDS OF CHILDREN NEEDED TO DIE, and they decided they needed to put my name to it. I’ve gotten to watch world leaders pull off a “the people of yisrael live” over and over again these last three years ago to justify arming a right wing dictator I never voted for in a country I never set foot on kill thousands and thousands of people. And I’ve gotten to see the hordes screaming for my death in response. Because it’s in our name and we asked for it and after all we do run everything. I’ve yet to get the feeling that western powers like Israelis all that much. The coverage really isn’t like us and uk based terror attacks. But they certainly don’t like Jews at all. No one cares about Jewish lives but they can collectively be used to justify non stop murder of a civilian population. The leader of that country I lived in will support all this forever. There’s no horror greater than that.

[mohs-aphmau-hcs]

Stereotypical Emergency Gofundme Title

Hey guys, I hate doing this, especially after being inactive for so long but this is my most popular blog and I need help.

I'm 19, living paycheck to paycheck with some pets and my SDIT, I'm severely mentally disabled and trans, living in the US, and I'm currently in a housing emergency that could leave me homeless in the likely worst-case scenario

Im an incapacitated mentally disabled trans adult living in the USA with my cats and dogs, one of which is an SDIT, I am unable to do basic things alone like grocery shopping or doctor's appointments, I can barely keep myself and my animals going.

the people taking care of me had to drop everything and leave because a dangerous family member wouldn't stop harassing them. They're currently trying to help me find a cheap place, and then get me a DLS worker/Daily carer, but its a hard long process

In the process of getting out safely, they kind of left me here in a hazardous situation because their emergency place didn't have enough room for me. So, now I'm being harassed by this family member, and I have nowhere to live and no one to help me.

This family member is threatening to come in and gut the house before I'm gone so our dad can move in. An offer we did make to my dad, but this person is under the impression it was going to happen overnight. And is threatening to do so in 2 weeks whether I like it or not, on top of threatening to get rid of my animals. This person is for one dangerous and violent, and going against him could hurt me. At this point, him and this situation are a threat to my life and he has been directly threatening my life more than once. A fight between me and this person would also put more strain than there already is on my dad and mine relationship. I want to move out by next month to avoid this situation.

I need to find a house or lenient apartment for rent, that accepts animals and isn't discriminatory against low income, disability, government support, and LGBT+, but I can barely afford rent here let alone a down payment on top of rent and a moving truck by next month. On top of finding a place that accepts Section 8 or low income, and then even having to wait to see if I can get a Section 8 voucher, and feeling unsafe in my current home, it's been hard. This is my first time doing any of this.

If I could make maybe 1k USD or more that'd help so much with getting at least a basic place to stay in when I find one

No one is obligated to help, but every little bit helps at the moment, I wouldn't be making this post if I wasn't desperate. I don't need food, or necessities except maybe cat food, I have enough for right now I just need a roof over my head

If you're able to, anything helps, thank you for reading my little sob story, here's a link to my gofundme page to help me get a house. Thank you all again just for reading even if you don't donate anything, <3

Fundraiser by Sam Tamayo : Help me raise money for a home for me and dog (gofundme.com)

[stories-untold]

The plight of the Palestinians (an unfair fight against dehumanisation, and the impact of our activism)

before I start, I want to preface by saying that, I'm not writing about the Palestinian genocide because I find it fascinating in some morbid way, or for any other fucked up reason. I'm writing this because I love to write, and I want to be able to use my love for writing as a means to amplify the Palestinian cause, as everyone should with their talents or hobbies, if possible. (I know no amount of words that I've written here could be enough for the lives we've already lost, so I'll just keep writing until I physically can't anymore. my heart goes out to evey single Palestinian. ) also, my thoughts were a extremely jumbled bc the Palestinian cause is extremely important to me, so I apologise if its not the smoothest read through.*also, I have a public Palestine playlist on tiktok, with over 2000 tiktoks filled with information, ways to help, and every gofundme that I come across, and I would be an idiot to not use this post as a way to ask you to check it out (my username on tiktok angelwingsdotcom, no need to follow me just save the playlist) thank you, and free Palestine 🇵🇸‼️*

there's a very depressing pattern that's hard to miss while watching the Palestinians displaced within Gaza as well as their families outside of the country ask people to donate to their gofundmes or PayPal accounts, and it speaks to a much larger issue. they must always try to convince the viewer that they to, are worthy of living a normal life, through self humanisation as a direct pushback to dehumanisation that they face by the hour. they speak of the ages of their youngest children, the ailments and disabilities of their family members, and talk of their hobbies, jobs and likes and dislikes, and it serves as a reminder. a reminder that they are all human, as are we, the ones on the other side of the screen, safely away from the carnage that they face at the hands of the "Israeli" offense force. I find myself being disgusted at the world that they need to do this, use a love for video games, or a 10th birthday missed, or the cries of a newborn baby, to contextualise that this genocide is happening to real people, kind people, undeserving people.

the global pandemic of apathy is currently attempting to bury any sense of solidarity we have amongst each other alive, shovel in its bloody hands. the amount of people who vehemently refuse to boycott any brand, with a shrug of their shoulders and a swift "I have my own problems, and I don't live there so." stands between the space of distressing, delusional, and blood curdling. since when did the metric for whether or not you should care about the ethnic cleaning of a people, depend on your proximity to them? how can any living, breathing, feeling person watch on and see the corpses of lives that we will never be able to get back even if a ceasefire is called tomorrow, and decide to simply not care? I ask these questions rhetorically, because I don't want to hear anything from someone who does not care about the lives of others.

sustenance of the self is extremely important, that is something I acknowledge, but the acts that one can undertake in order to support the Palestinian cause are so simple, that they should not incite so much defensiveness from those who have their own internal issues. all it takes is a repost here, a comment or a follow, lending and an eye and an ear to bare witness to the atrocities that Palestinians are being subjected to the IOF and the billions given to them by the USA (a country which had many issues of its own, none that will be fixed by the relocation of money to an active genocide), boycotting pressure targets and finding alternatives of which there are plenty. all these acts culminate towards the eventual true freedom of Palestinians, and yet, people refuse. individual efforts are deemed useless, and people are able to comfort themselves in their apathy through the belief that their efforts would nevertheless be in vain. but that could not be further from the truth.

its incredibly easy to feel useless when watching the violence being inflicted by isnotreali murderers posing as soldiers on Palestinians in real time, but I want to remind you that each little action you take helps. I remember a few months ago, my brother asked what I thought I was doing by boycotting McDonalds when almost no else in the country is, and my answer was simple. I don't care what others do, I know what and who I care about, and I care about Palestinians, and they asked me to boycott, so I will. and my boycotting, however small it is on an individual scale, is made so much more impactful by people who similar beliefs, thus making my boycott significant through unity. and that is the one weapon we can wield against our oppressors, togetherness. they try to convince that you can't do it alone, and the truth of the matter is that you can't. but you're not doing it alone. I'm just a girl living in South Africa, and you're probably somewhere else in the world, and yet, your and my efforts mixed with everyone around the world, will incite change, do not be discouraged or manipulated into believing that you are not helping, because you are, no matter how small your effort may feel.

if your individual effort truly didn't matter, then zionist would simply turn the other way, and yet, they consistently parrot each other "boycotts don't do anything" "reposting a video isn't gonna help anyone" but they know the power of people standing together. they use it too, flocking to pro Palestine posts and floding the comments with the same falsified information and zionist rethoric, and if they can he united in their hate, then surely we can do the same. so keep posting, keep commenting and sharing, keep donating, and keep your eyes on Palestine, because you mean so much more to the people currently in gaza than you could ever know.

the goal of zionism is not to get people to hate Palestinians or Arabs, the end goal is disinterest. they want people to hold their tears and roll their eyes when they hear the cries of a Palestinian baby, and the current generation is already so uncaring even with no ties to zionism. its disgusting, and the attitude of "what can I do?" only works to aid the zionist agenda. its especially disheartening to Palestinians displaced within gaza right now, as they only have us to count on. they've pleaded with us to listen, and given us simple instructions, it is truly the humane thing to do to follow them. my fyp is almost exclusively Palestinian informational videos, updates, and gofundmes, and that's thanks to my personalised algorithm. but if I were to take this very platform as an example, 3 or 4 months ago, Palestine was first on trending, but now it isn't even in the top ten. people are losing interest, and it's heartbreaking.

people are even going as far as to defend others for not using their platforms to speak on the Palestinian genocide and its truly mind-boggling to witness. they deflect by asking why we put pressure on influencers and celebrities instead of politicians, but I can't help but wonder, since when were the two mutually exclusive? I've seen countless videos of protesters interrupting politicians during events and calling them out for not only being complicit in genocide, but actively defending and funding it. we can do both, and I refuse to be shamed for expecting people who have large audiences to do the right thing, the humane thing, and speak on the genocide of Palestinians. if anything, all the celebrities and influencers staying silent, whether it be for money or to keep their status within the entertainment industry, or simply because they couldn't be bothered to care, they should be ashamed.

it's obviously impossible and frankly unhealthy to be consuming the harrowing updates and videos of corpses run over by IOF tanks, the bodies of starved babies, and the blood in the hands of parents who cry for the children to wake up, and that's not whats expected of you. find a balance that works for you, that's vital. but completely taking your eyes away from the genocide, muting the word Palestine, and carrying on exactly as you were before the genocide started, isn't the answer. please, use social media to help Palestinians, it's easy, it's effective, and people are counting on you.

Palestine will be free, and having a small hand in their eventual freedom, is worth so much more than fame, or money, or a big mac, or coffee. even in the midst of a genocide, Palestinians continue to exhibit a care for others, they help those around them, use the tiktok sounds dedicated to other genocides and crisis around the world, and they always express their gratitude for people donating, liking, commenting and sharing. they show more humanity and kindness than us who are sitting comfortably in our homes, not constantly surrounded by rubble, blood, screams and cries for help, and drones flying above, remnants of what once was. they deserve to live, and we should not need convincing of that irrefutable fact. I am not in proximity to Palestine location wise, I'm not Palestinian, or Muslim, or Arab. but I don't need to be, and neither do you.

Free Palestine.

[gryficowa]

Something irritates me about the fact that I don't earn money and I don't have a bank account (Because without earning money, opening an account doesn't work… Yes, I found out the hard way, it's also depressing that many fundraisers barely reach the middle, let alone the very end)

I have a second degree of disability, so getting a job is almost impossible, I know, it also annoys me that PLN is often not as high as, for example, Euro or dollars, which makes it difficult to pay collections with this type of currencies, but yes, it may be possible to work around it somehow , unfortunately, I can't donate to the collections, that's why I'm sharing them, because that's all I can do (Besides boycotting and sharing information)

I also have a problem with describing so that more people can reach the collections (That's why I started doing SS and such, or writing short sentences), because unfortunately, ASD and social phobia took their toll (And trauma… You know, I was a strong victim of Internet criticism , to put it mildly, the same in real life)

So I'm sorry if my writing description for collections (Link) seems like I don't care, I care a lot, which makes my mind go blank, it's easier for me to reblog collections than to share them, but I can't always do it do it, because not every person has a collection on the blog and then I have to paste the link to the collection, but also write something and then this happens, my mind goes blank, I know, it seems like such a trivial problem and it is, but it can be annoying when you want to help, I can't describe this problem (Because I can't describe my feelings in many moments) , so not only can't I donate to fundraisers, but my mind does it, and if I succeed, I still have this in the back of my mind: Will it turn out that I don't care? Is that enough? Did I describe it correctly?

It's times like these that ASD and social anxiety disorder are at their worst

And no, I don't have a pension, they didn't give it to me because they thought I was too disabled, so yes, I have a second degree of disability and I can't work (Or only under certain conditions, or in short, nowhere, because there are no such conditions) , but I don't get a pension, and I'm not likely to make money on YT (Especially when it belongs to Google, and when you reach the threshold, Google will also start earning money)

I don't plan to draw on commission either, because I don't think I'm at the level to do it yet

So yes, no matter how much I want to, I can't donate to fundraisers

I still live with my mother because, mind you, I don't earn any money, so I don't even have my own apartment (And apartments in my city have sky-high prices)

I have money in my wallet because I collect it, or someone gives it to me, and even then it's not much and I can't send real money for collections that mainly use bank cards, and for that you need a bank account

So no matter how much I would like to, I can't help in this way, I can share (Although, as I mentioned, my mind is mocking me) and reblog fundraisers, and also reblog information, but I don't have the option to donate to them

If I could, I would send most or all of the amount, but I can't

I saw how the collections are slowly coming, it is most visible with many Palestinians, but also with Sudan and Congo (with the third one the most)

The fact that people have to wait so long for the collection to end is terrifying, many of them are from March or even earlier, and they are still far from reaching the end of the collection itself

I remember one of the collections with a father who had a small child and a pregnant wife, later I saw this child already burnt (And a photo from this collection, when it was still alive, it was a baby), the thought that these people might not survive the end of the collection, or their families themselves is heartbreaking

I remember father sending this collection many times with this baby in the photo, that's why I recognized that it was the same baby, the fact that many people might not have survived to the end of the collection (including children) is terrifying, and I can't do anything about it to do, because I don't make money and I can only share collections, which are barely moving forward anyway

There are so many collections that have barely moved forward for months, and scammers who want to take advantage of it all don't help

Share collections, even if you have no money and don't earn anything, they should reach people who can help, because many people don't even know they exist

[jean-dieu]

4, 8, 21 for the WOTR asks?

Thank you Ash for the ask!!! <3

4. What did they do before they became a crusader? Did they have a job, an occupation?

Raphaël: Raphaël's is an Inquisitor during the crusade but he has been one for a few years. After a fail attempt at priesthood where he was deemed too aggressive and not enough line with Sarenrae's teachings, he's somewhat forced to switch for the Inquisition and finished his training there, becoming an Inquisitor a bit before his 20th birthday.

Lazare: Lazare was more or less trying to gain some kind of reputation with his music, while earning money any way he could. Playing in Inns and Taverns did the job, but he didn't mind helping for a few coins if it was necessary. When it's the begining of the crusade, he joins the Andoren army that leaves for Mendev, feeling like it's the right thing to do as he could be helpful one way or another and could gain inspiration for his songs.

Ziel: Ziel's barely 18, but I aged him for when I play him as a KC just for the sake of it. Ziel had a relatively "safe" life for a young pitborn in Mendev until his 12th birthday, when his father was condemned for supposed corruption and was cast aside his Abadarite church. When his mother left them and his father started to turn to alcohol, Ziel resorted to thievery to support himself and his father when he was around 14. Soon enough, he joined some gangs, and eventually joined the thieflings because, he fits the profile. When the crusade starts, he kind of play a double role, still being among Thieflings but snitching whatever informations he deems important to Irabeth, one of the only person who didn't treat him like dirt after his father's trial. While she obviously disapprove of Ziel's occupation, she still sees him more like a lost child than a hardened thief. While Ziel is careful to not incriminate his fellow Thieflings, he gives her as many information he can collect in the criminal world, and when he learns about potential cultists or demonic activities in Kenabres, he's ready to tell her and offer his help as a scout.

8. What do they desire the most?

Raphaël: Answered there for my red, furry Inquisitor!

Lazare: Lazare wishes his songs become inspiration for future generation. He knows he isn't the strongest, the smartest, or anything really. He's just a young bard from Andoran, his head full of dreams and hopes. But he knows he can help in his own way, and it's going to be his songs.

Ziel: Ziel wants to prove his father's innocence more than anything, and to see anyone who caused his demise suffers back. Before the trial, his father was a respected cleric of Abadar, managing a small local church. The first suspicion arose when Ziel was born a tiefling, but it wasn't enough to really damage his reputation, though he did gain some ennemies as he started to defend more and more tieflings, and to be more welcoming of them in his Church, just for the sake of his son. Ziel was only 12 when Inquisitors stormed in their house in the middle of the night, dragging his father in jail then in trial for alleged corruption. He was accused of diverting money from the donation of the faithful, something he always denied. They lost everything after that, his wife, Ziel's mother, even leaving them and never turning back. Ashamed, lost, unable to find a job, cast aside, he turns to alcohol to cope, and Ziel witnesses his father becomes nothing more than a shell of his old self, mocked and denigrated by his old friends and colleagues.

Ziel is persuaded he had more than a few share of ennemies among the clergy of Abadar, and he thinks everything was a masquerade sets up to convict his father. He has since been defending his father's name against everything, and he's desperate to get clues and proofs of his innocence, in which he clearly believes.

21. Did they actually like something about being the KC?

Raphaël: Raphaël "enjoyed" being the KC of the fifth crusade. Not in the sense that "it was fun" of course, but in the sense that he never felt more useful in his life. The idea of being able to lead the crusade according to his moral values was extremely rewarding. Gaining more and more support everyday, convincing people and countries to support their cause, even convincing Heaven was definitely something he liked. The most rewarding event being when a bunch of tieflings showed up to join the crusade just because of him. He'll never forget that.

Lazare: Being listened to, being taken seriously, and managing to find his own path and his own strength. While Lazare was well into adulthood in term of age, he was far from being mature or anything. Being in charge of something so important really helped him to gain maturity and confidence in himself, and he's grateful for such an opportunity in his own way.

Ziel: At first, the idea of commanding people that would look down on him and spit on his and his father's name was definitely something he liked. Forcing people to call him "Commander" was a guilty pleasure of him, always smirking when the old abadarites that always were mean to him were forced to bow down to him.

Once the first "thrill" went away, Ziel actually revealed himself to be smart and cunning when taking decision. Despite being of a chaotic nature, he's weirdly ordered when he's making plans against the ennemies. He understands demons quite well, and is able to counter them with well-thought, improbable plans. While at first most doubted his actual ability to lead the crusade, feeling like he really got the post only for his newfounds ability, he proved everyone, him included, that he was actually very good at that role. And that's definitely something he enjoyed: being useful to the crusade and showing everyone he's indeed talented and ressourceful, more than just the thief they thought him to be.

[gamerbearmira]

I have a Modern Spy AU called Code Word Chameleon that I posted over on AO3! If you’re interested, I have the first chapter below.

Present Day - New York City

It was a beautiful night for an art gallery opening. The Metropolitan Museum of Art was holding a private fundraiser and gala to celebrate the arrival of a rare painting that would be on exhibit for a limited time only. Monet’s Water Lilies, valued at over $80 million, was the main event. Those lucky/rich enough to get an invitation received a preview of the famous painting before it opened to the public. They rolled out the red carpet as the museum’s supporters and donors walked into the grand entryway. A limo pulled up to the steps. A middle-aged man and woman stepped out. The man wore a black suit and an orange and yellow tie to blend in, but the woman certainly wasn’t trying to blend in. She was wearing a brilliant orange and yellow ombre dress that sparkled when it caught the light just right. The two walked up the stairs, the woman turning heads as she walked arm-in-arm with the man. Her dress and his tie matched perfectly. At the top of the stairs, a man in a suit stopped them.

“Your names and your invitation, please,” the security guard said.

“Cameron and Miranda Montez,” the man said as he produced the invitation for himself and the woman on his arm. The security guard took their invitation and scanned a QR code on the back. His eyebrows knit together, confused.

“I’m sorry. I don’t see your name on the list.”

“That’s odd,” Cameron said. “We have to be on there.”

“Are you members of the Friends of the Met?”

“No, but we made a very generous donation,” Miranda insisted. “We gave this museum a significant amount of money because I wanted to see this painting in an intimate setting.”

“Let me scan the invitation again.” The guard scanned the invitation one more time. The screen on his tablet flickered, then confirmed that the invitation was genuine. His eyes widened when he saw the amount the couple donated to the museum. “My apologies, Mr. and Mrs. Montez. Please, go in.”

“Thank you,” Cameron said as he and Miranda walked into the foyer. After passing through a metal detector, both of them took a glass of champagne and started walking around the room.

“Comms check,” a voice said in their ears. “Camilo, Mirabel, can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear, Dolores,” Mirabel muttered under her breath.

“This must be what it’s like to hear everything,” Camilo said quietly.

“Nope,” Mirabel and Dolores said at the same time.

“Mamá and Antonio are on standby in case something goes south,” Dolores said from an unmarked van a block away. She was monitoring security cameras, looking for their mark.

“How is Antonio on standby?” Camilo whispered.

“He found a beehive three blocks away. Go silent. I’ll let you know if I see them. Happy hunting.”

Camilo looked at Mirabel. “I love being older than 21 on missions,” he thought. “I can do this without anyone getting mad.” He took a sip of champagne and smiled.

Mirabel rolled her eyes. “As long as you don’t get drunk, I don’t care,” she silently replied before taking a sip from her own glass. “Wow, the Met knows its champagne.”

“Considering how much money people spent to get in here, it better.”

“Any sign of our guy?”

“Nothing yet, but we’re barely halfway across the room. We haven’t even given you five minutes to get the attention of every man in the building. Whoever's trying to sell this painting will come over eventually.”

“I always did like this dress. If only I could be myself in it for once.”

The two of them walked together for a minute more before a specific song started playing. Camilo smiled. “It’s our song,” he said, holding his hand out to Mirabel. “Would you like to dance?”

“It would be my pleasure.” The two set their drinks down and walked onto the dance floor, which was pretty empty considering it was still the beginning of the event. They walked right into the middle of the floor, making sure that the light hit Mirabel’s dress perfectly. Camilo and Mirabel waltzed around the floor for a few minutes, Mirabel enjoying the turns and twirls that Camilo expertly led her into. They were dazzling the room as Mirabel’s dress sparkled and shone under the lights.

“I’m so glad you learned how to dance,” she thought as she smiled at Camilo.

Camilo returned the smile sadly. “Someone needed to cheer mamí up,” he replied. “Papí always danced with her.”

“Sorry. We can’t go down that road right now.”

“It’s never a bad thing to talk about papí. But right now, we’re coming to the end of the song. I’m gonna twirl you, dip you, and kiss you on the cheek, okay?”

Mirabel’s blink meant she was ready. With only a few measures to go, Camilo perfectly executed the move he told her about. When the song ended, the entire room applauded, both for the band and for Camilo and Mirabel. As they left the floor, a man approached them, three glasses of champagne in his hands.

“You must be Mr. and Mrs. Montez,” he said kindly as he handed them two of the glasses. “I’m Philip Rossiter, the host for this evening. You both are very talented.”

“It’s a lovely party so far, Mr. Rossiter, and thank you,” Mirabel said as she flashed a look at Camilo. This was their guy. “We were just talking about how beautiful this foyer is.”

“The Met takes great pride in both its artwork and architecture, Mrs. Montez. We here at the museum were blown away by your donation, especially considering you aren’t part of the Friends of the Museum. What made you decide to give such a generous gift to the museum?”

“We love Monet.”

“Well, she loves Monet,” Camilo said with a smirk. “I love her, and she asked me for this for her birthday after I dragged her to St. Kitts and Nevis for mine.”

“Saint Kitts and Nevis?” Philip said. “What a wonderful destination. The Caribbean is so beautiful.”

“If it hadn’t been during hurricane season and we didn’t have to evacuate forty hours into the trip, it would have been lovely,” Mirabel said, flashing Philip a dazzling smile.

“Well, I’d like to thank you for your generosity by giving you a private viewing before we open it to the rest of the group. Typically, we reserve this for the top donor inside the Friends of the Met, but your donation warrants special treatment. We’re going to announce you to be Friends of the Met once everything starts.”

“An honor we did not expect, but we will accept,” Camilo said as he raised his glass for a toast. “To the Met and Monet.”

“Hear, hear.” The three took a sip of their drinks before walking into the gallery where the painting was displayed. “We’ve been trying to get this painting here for years.”

“You must be very excited,” Camilo said before he took another drink. “Having a painting worth $80 million as part of your exhibits will bring in a lot of business.”

“Absolutely. It’s just brilliant. As the curator, I get to see the painting at my pleasure, which is also nice.”

“I’m sure you have extraordinary security here to make sure the painting is safe,” Mirabel noted as she also took a drink.

“Of course. We take great pride in our security measures, especially against those who would try to disrupt the integrity of the museum.” As Philip finished the sentence, Camilo’s vision went blurry for a split second. He blinked a couple of times and grabbed Mirabel’s hand.

“He spiked the champagne,” Camilo thought.

“I’m feeling it, too,” Mirabel replied silently.

The curator led them into the room where the painting should have been hanging. It was an empty room. Camilo’s vision was completely blurry now. “You should not have been so eager to get my attention. You are both excellent dancers. It’s a shame you won’t be giving an encore performance.” Two men appeared behind Camilo and Mirabel, holding guns against their backs. “Walk.”

“What’s happening in there?” Dolores’s voice rang out in Camilo’s ears before the man reached in and yanked the earpiece out. He threw it on the ground and stomped on it, hurting Dolores’s ears terribly. Mirabel received the same treatment.

“Who do you work for?” the curator asked. “If you tell me the truth right now, I’ll make it fast.”

“We’re Friends of the Met,” Camilo mumbled, barely able to stay conscious as he struggled to maintain his shift.

“Please, don’t do this,” Mirabel said. “We have a family.”

“So do I,” the curator said. “And we’re going to have a great life once I sell this painting.”

Camilo and Mirabel fell to the ground, the sedative taking full effect. As they blacked out, both of their bodies changed from a middle-aged couple to a couple of eighteen-year-old twins. Philip Rossiter’s eyes went wide as he looked at the two of them.

“I don’t know how they did that,” he said to his henchmen as he reached into his pocket and pressed a button. “But it doesn’t matter. Get them to the back of the house. We’ll dispose of them later.”

Every screen in the surveillance van went static. Dolores threw off her headphones and put in an earpiece before she sprinted out of the van and onto the street a block away from the museum entrance.

“Antonio, I need you at the service entrance!” Dolores ordered as she ran. “Mamá, they’ve been sedated and are being taken to the back. You have to get in there.”

“Got it,” Pepa said before picking up a tray of champagne glasses. “I’m in position.”

Pepa took a deep breath as she reached into the part of her mind that kept her powers under control. She mentally locked the door that had Félix, Julieta, Bruno, her mamá, and her children behind it and put on her game face. “Heading in.”

Pepa stepped into a room meant for employees only, her server’s uniform being the only thing granting her access. No one gave her a second look as she entered the room with ten people and five security guards.

“Ah, good,” Philip said as he entered the room like he hadn’t just sedated a couple of teenagers. “We can finally have our toast. What took you so long?”

“Lo siento, señor, lo siento,” Pepa said, not meeting his gaze as she passed out the champagne.

“What is your name?”

“Cristina, señor.”

“Well, Cristina, we speak English in this country. If you can’t speak English, I’ll find another server who can.”

Pepa nodded, trying like everything to keep the anger out of her face. “I’m sorry, sir,” she said, her English purposefully broken. “I try to speak English for you.”

“Thank you. Keep the champagne coming.”

As soon as the tray was empty, Pepa marched out to the kitchen again. “Dolores, if you don’t do something soon, I’m going to kill that man,” she mumbled under her breath as she poured more champagne.

“Don’t lose it, mamá!” Dolores said in her ear. “If you lose it, Camilo and Mirabel are dead.”

“I know. I’m trying.”

Outside, Dolores found Antonio standing at the service entrance. “Anything?”

Antonio shook his head, putting his hand out to stop Dolores. “Careful, I’ve got a bee’s nest surrounding me.”

“Thanks. What did you send in there?”

“A couple of bees. Sending the entire swarm would attract attention.”

“Good boy. What else?”

“They were going to use that van over there to get away.” Antonio pointed to an unmarked white van off in the distance. “A pigeon told me about it. It was really happy when I asked it to pop the tires. I guess pigeons think cars are loud.”

“You’re so good, Toñito.”

Antonio beamed at his oldest sister before his face fell. “Are Cami and Mira going to be okay?”

“They’ll be fine,” Dolores said, half trying to convince her little brother and half trying to convince herself. “They’ll be okay.”

Ok. You had me. And then you lost me, and then you had me, and the. I got lost again. Idk 💀 I KEAN ITS GOOD. DON’T GET ME WRONG, AWESOME PREMISE <333 Iiist need a little context? From what I can tell? Really cool spy AU. But like, what are they spying on 😼 Which honestly. I am loving, spys are cool.

I can also feel they’re older in this au, or at least the ages are different. ALSO??? CAN SOMEONE CHECK ON CAMILO AND MIRABEL LIKE…SUMN AIN’T RIGHT 🌚

[calyxthenerd]

Write something with Marco! <3 Just whatever with him

I love you, do you know that? This is the greatest think you could’ve asked me to do

A tale of tears, love and airports

Life there was rough, the caretakers were too jaded by life to give a shit, the funds were too low to get them decent clothes and food, so everyone had rips on their clothes, not like those pretentious people wear because they think it’s cool, nothing stayed white for long, the showers barely worked, and Marco was so, so tired.

He woke up, and immediately raced to the kitchen to start pouring the stale milk and rock hard cereal they got from the donation boxes in the city that people thought were garbage cans for the food they didn’t want anymore, because the kids would be coming in soon, and those who were still growing needed some semblance of breakfast, and in came his favorite kid, Mariana, she still had that bright twinkle in her eyes, still not robbed of her childlike innocence by the terrible reality that her parents weren’t coming back for her and this dirty, sad place, was her new home, not that anyone there knew the meaning of that word.

“Buenos dias Mari” he smiled slightly, a tiny thing, after all, his life gave little reasons for him to smile, and ruffled her hair

“Buenos dias Marco! Feliz cumpleaños! What do you have planned for today?” Huh, it was his birthday today? He had forgot that day, lost in the monotoness of his life, it’s not like they were celebrating much around there, but he knew this year was special, this was the year he turns eighteen years of age, which means he gets to leave this rotten place, and he’ll be damned if he leaves his precious little Mari to get consumed by the gloom of this place.

“Packing, I’m leaving as soon as the clock strikes twelve” and his little girl’s smile drops, making him hate himself a little for it

“Oh, okay, I guess we’ll have to say goodbye…” and a stray tear, that looks foreign in her perpetually cheery face.

“You’re joking right? Ain’t no way I’m leaving you behind, pack your bag, we’re going to a, hopefully better place” he smiles again, tapping her shoulder slightly before going to pack, hearing the whoops of the little girl behind him, he was so ready for his new life.

—————————————————————

He had saved just enough money for two plane tickets to Madrid, and dinner at a cheap fast food joint on the way, and a cab to the airport- you get it, now, Marco and Mariana were on a plan, ready for the adventure ahead of them, all the plane snacks already put away in his raggedy backpack, that was falling apart, since they were still full from dinner, he decided to save them for later, you never know, then he looked as his little girl asleep next to him, looking way too thin for her age, and promising himself he would never let her starve again, before turning back to the movie he had queued up to watch, since he never got to see many films.

—————————————————————

At the airport he realized they had no money for the fare to any plaza where he could play his music to scrape enough to pay for a cheap motel so Mari could get a decent bed to sleep in, so he settled for selling.

“I can cook, clean, take care of kids, and for any amount of money you can give!” He yelled at passerbies, growing desperate as they all ignored him, from men in suits with briefcases to mothers with little crowds of rowdy kids, looking dead on their feet,

They all refused his services, until a boy, close to his age, if he dared to guess, with straight, long hair, falling over his face and way too much black around his eyes, he looked like the panda in the movie he watched on the plane “Hey, you can come with me and my mom” he pointed to a middle aged woman, who he looked nothing alike, that made Marco suspicious, so he pushed Mari behind him “and why should I? I don’t even know you, if you don’t hire me, I don’t see why I should go to your home” the boy frowned “Well, it makes you feel more comfortable, I’m Diego, and I want you to come because you clearly need help, and clothes, and a shower, and food, and a haircut, and you have a kid with you! You shouldn’t be left alone with a kid in an airport!” Marco sighed “fine, Diego” he said his name with the most contempt a malnourished and exhausted eighteen year old could muster, which, turns out, was quite a lot “I’ll go with you, but only for Mari, and if you do anything to her, I’ll kick your ass” he says as Diego guides him towards his mother, and introduces them “Mama, this is my friend… erm” he realized he never asked for a name “Marco” the Mexican boy filled in the blank “Right, this is my friend Marco and his younger sister Mari, I was wondering if they could go home with us, since they don’t have anywhere else to go?” One look at the dirty and way too skinny kids before her, and shepherded them towards her car “Of course, cariño, let’s go, kids”

“Gracias, señora” Marco mumbled “Oh, none of that, you can call me Marta or auntie, whatever you’re comfortable with, now let’s go, we need to be fast if we want to beat the lunchtime rush at my favorite restaurant!” And proceeds to violate several traffic laws as they go there.

—————————————————————

Marta catches them munching on plane snacks after they didn’t come to dinner, she almost cries at the sight, before closing the door and going back to her room and looking up adoptive parent forums

—————————————————————

After the third time in the first week, she sees Marco trying to scrub the toilets she sighs and calls him for a talk, by the end of it, they’re both crying

—————————————————————

The first time Marco came to her about nightmares, she cried, before she saw his frozen, terrified face, and was quick to reassure him, their relationship was much easier after that

—————————————————————

The first time her boys came home (pretending not to be) drunk, she cackled, oh so happy that the skittish boy she met that day at the airport, was now comfortable enough to let go of his full faculties before she remembered that Mariana was asleep just down the hall and shut herself up, rushing to help the boys to bed so they didn’t wake up their, now ten years old, little sister, smiling fondly at them the whole time

—————————————————————

When she went to drop them off at the airport for their flight to Buenos Aires, where they were moving, she was all tears, same as little Mari, remembering the beginning of their life together, three years ago, between promises to call and update her on their music careers, they said their goodbyes and mother and daughter left the airport, hand in hand, on a much happier note than the first time they did

—————————————————————

Her baby performing with his superstar friends in their city! Obviously she went to watch, and obviously she yelled at him for two hours on the phone when Marco told her the reason why that pretty girl was crying during her performance

—————————————————————

The second time she went to a performance, both her sons were there, and what a show it was! Her babies gave her, and not so little, now twelve years old, Mari, who had been bragging about her famous older brothers at school constantly, tickets, and if there was a stray tear falling down her face during the final number, well, no one was looking at her anyways, this evening was all about her superstars

—————————————————————

When she met her babies again, Diego was coming home to introduce his girlfriend, and share the way he finally met him, which would’ve made her mad, if her boy wasn’t so happy, having found his father, and this amazing girl, who had apparently dated both her sons, but who was she to judge? She had gotten up to some mischief back in her day too, and Marco, oh how proud she was of Marco, who was going to England to further his music career, she was so proud of her babies, and this reunion with her kids at the airport, rest assured, was the happiest one yet, but definitely not the last.

[uncloseted]

i don’t think i agree with what you said. mcdonalds has donated over 100,00 meals to the military and security forces in israel and specifically go out of their way to make sure no one thinks they help palestinians which for me is enough to feel disgusted even by the idea of spending any money there. obviously people boycotting mcdonalds isn't going to convince them to close their franchise locations in israel, but that isn’t really the point. even though the boycott has actually put a dent in mcdonalds sales, just like the act of reposting videos might not directly help anyone, it definitely sends out a message of solidarity. personally i feel like it is the LEAST you could do to support palestine. this isn’t directed at you specifically but i just don’t and can’t understand how people’s happy meal is more important to them than the 30,000 dead palestinians? are all of your hearts cold?

Like I said in my last post, you’re free to boycott McDonalds if you see fit. I get why people want to. But I think for people who are engaging in the boycott, we need to be realistic about why the boycott is happening and what that boycott is actually accomplishing.

Starting with why the boycott is happening, I'm not sure I agree with your assessment of what McDonald's actually did. I don't think McDonalds corporate made a strategic decision to "go out of their way to make sure no one thinks they help Palestinians". Corporate has no real incentive to do that, especially since there are a ton of McDonalds throughout the Middle East. But even if they did, McDonalds operates on a franchise system, which means that the decisions that are being made in any given location aren't coming from McDonalds' corporate offices. They're coming from the owner of the local franchise. In this case of Israeli McDonalds, that's Omri Padan, an Israeli man from Jerusalem who owns the franchises. He (not McDonalds corporate) pledged a daily donation of 4,000 meals to not just to security forces, but also to healthcare workers and residents of the affected region. We don't really know what the ratio of meals given to security forces vs healthcare workers and civilians is, and we don't know what percentage of the "security forces" were IDF, as opposed to other branches of like police or emergency services.

Somewhat interestingly, Padan is also the co-founder of Peace Now, an Israeli advocate group whose main goal is a two-state solution for the Israeli/Palestinian conflict. Obviously I don't know how effective Peace Now is as an organization, where Padan's personal politics lie, or how they've changed since he founded Peace Now. It's possible that he's been radicalized since October and is now doing what he can to support Israeli action in Palestine. But from what I can gather, I'm not personally convinced that Padan is trying to support the genocide of the Palestinian people.

Because of the franchise model, if you're boycotting a franchise anywhere in the the rest of the world, you're kind of just boycotting some guy in your city who owns a McDonalds and the minimum wage employees who work there. They probably aren't taking a stance on the Israeli/Palestinian conflict at all, much less actively supporting the IDF.

Anyway, none of that is even the real point I want to make. The point I want to make is that a better show of solidarity is taking action. Action should be our bare minimum to send a message of solidarity to the Palestinian people. I could be wrong, and let me know if I am, but I don't think the Palestinians are sitting around being like, "wow! So many Westeners have volunteered to give up their Happy Meals in support of us. What a beautiful show of solidarity." Frankly, I'm not sure that they even know that a boycott of McDonalds is happening, and if they do, I don't think they care. I do think a lot of Westerners are sitting around being like, "I am such a good ally because I didn't go to McDonalds today, a thing I already wasn't going to do. That's my activism done for the day." In my opinion, the majority of boycotts like this are so people can virtue signal to their friends and social media followers about how pure and moral they are. It's not about making any actual progress or even about letting the Palestinian people know that they have support.

Boycott McDonalds or don't. I don't really care either way, and I do get why people feel the need to boycott. I probably won't go to a McDonalds between now and when the war ends. But I think we should be really clear about our intentions and goals when engaging in activism and make sure that we're prioritizing actual, actionable tasks that will have an actual impact on the lives of the Palestinian people. Take the money you were going to spend on McDonalds and donate it to a reputable organization working in Palestine if you really want to boycott. Just make sure that you're taking action.

[adventuresbyjd]

Everyone, I present to you one of the craziest and most fun things I’ve written- my Modern Spy AU for Encanto…

Code Word Chameleon

Present Day - New York City

It was a beautiful night for an art gallery opening. The Metropolitan Museum of Art was holding a private fundraiser and gala to celebrate the arrival of a rare painting that would be on exhibit for a limited time only. Monet’s Water Lilies, valued at over $80 million, was the main event. Those lucky/rich enough to get an invitation received a preview of the famous painting before it opened to the public. They rolled out the red carpet as the museum’s supporters and donors walked into the grand entryway. A limo pulled up to the steps. A middle-aged man and woman stepped out. The man wore a black suit and an orange and yellow tie to blend in, but the woman certainly wasn’t trying to blend in. She was wearing a brilliant orange and yellow ombre dress that sparkled when it caught the light just right. The two walked up the stairs, the woman turning heads as she walked arm-in-arm with the man. Her dress and his tie matched perfectly. At the top of the stairs, a man in a suit stopped them.

“Your names and your invitation, please,” the security guard said.

“Cameron and Miranda Montez,” the man said as he produced the invitation for himself and the woman on his arm. The security guard took their invitation and scanned a QR code on the back. His eyebrows knit together, confused.

“I’m sorry. I don’t see your name on the list.”

“That’s odd,” Cameron said. “We have to be on there.”

“Are you members of the Friends of the Met?”

“No, but we made a very generous donation,” Miranda insisted. “We gave this museum a significant amount of money because I wanted to see this painting in an intimate setting.”

“Let me scan the invitation again.” The guard scanned the invitation one more time. The screen on his tablet flickered, then confirmed that the invitation was genuine. His eyes widened when he saw the amount the couple donated to the museum. “My apologies, Mr. and Mrs. Montez. Please, go in.”

“Thank you,” Cameron said as he and Miranda walked into the foyer. After passing through a metal detector, both of them took a glass of champagne and started walking around the room.

“Comms check,” a voice said in their ears. “Camilo, Mirabel, can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear, Dolores,” Mirabel muttered under her breath.

“This must be what it’s like to hear everything,” Camilo said quietly.

“Nope,” Mirabel and Dolores said at the same time.

“Mamá and Antonio are on standby in case something goes south,” Dolores said from an unmarked van a block away. She was monitoring security cameras, looking for their mark.

“How is Antonio on standby?” Camilo whispered.

“He found a beehive three blocks away. Go silent. I’ll let you know if I see them. Happy hunting.”

Camilo looked at Mirabel. “I love being older than 21 on missions,” he thought. “I can do this without anyone getting mad.” He took a sip of champagne and smiled.

Mirabel rolled her eyes. “As long as you don’t get drunk, I don’t care,” she silently replied before taking a sip from her own glass. “Wow, the Met knows its champagne.”

“Considering how much money people spent to get in here, it better.”

“Any sign of our guy?”

“Nothing yet, but we’re barely halfway across the room. We haven’t even given you five minutes to get the attention of every man in the building. Whoever's trying to sell this painting will come over eventually.”

“I always did like this dress. If only I could be myself in it for once.”

The two of them walked together for a minute more before a specific song started playing. Camilo smiled. “It’s our song,” he said, holding his hand out to Mirabel. “Would you like to dance?”

“It would be my pleasure.” The two set their drinks down and walked onto the dance floor, which was pretty empty considering it was still the beginning of the event. They walked right into the middle of the floor, making sure that the light hit Mirabel’s dress perfectly. Camilo and Mirabel waltzed around the floor for a few minutes, Mirabel enjoying the turns and twirls that Camilo expertly led her into. They were dazzling the room as Mirabel’s dress sparkled and shone under the lights.

“I’m so glad you learned how to dance,” she thought as she smiled at Camilo.

Camilo returned the smile sadly. “Someone needed to cheer mamí up,” he replied. “Papí always danced with her.”

“Sorry. We can’t go down that road right now.”

“It’s never a bad thing to talk about papí. But right now, we’re coming to the end of the song. I’m gonna twirl you, dip you, and kiss you on the cheek, okay?”

Mirabel’s blink meant she was ready. With only a few measures to go, Camilo perfectly executed the move he told her about. When the song ended, the entire room applauded, both for the band and for Camilo and Mirabel. As they left the floor, a man approached them, three glasses of champagne in his hands.

“You must be Mr. and Mrs. Montez,” he said kindly as he handed them two of the glasses. “I’m Philip Rossiter, the host for this evening. You both are very talented.”

“It’s a lovely party so far, Mr. Rossiter, and thank you,” Mirabel said as she flashed a look at Camilo. This was their guy. “We were just talking about how beautiful this foyer is.”

“The Met takes great pride in both its artwork and architecture, Mrs. Montez. We here at the museum were blown away by your donation, especially considering you aren’t part of the Friends of the Museum. What made you decide to give such a generous gift to the museum?”

“We love Monet.”

“Well, she loves Monet,” Camilo said with a smirk. “I love her, and she asked me for this for her birthday after I dragged her to St. Kitts and Nevis for mine.”

“Saint Kitts and Nevis?” Philip said. “What a wonderful destination. The Caribbean is so beautiful.”

“If it hadn’t been during hurricane season and we didn’t have to evacuate forty hours into the trip, it would have been lovely,” Mirabel said, flashing Philip a dazzling smile.

“Well, I’d like to thank you for your generosity by giving you a private viewing before we open it to the rest of the group. Typically, we reserve this for the top donor inside the Friends of the Met, but your donation warrants special treatment. We’re going to announce you to be Friends of the Met once everything starts.”

“An honor we did not expect, but we will accept,” Camilo said as he raised his glass for a toast. “To the Met and Monet.”

“Hear, hear.” The three took a sip of their drinks before walking into the gallery where the painting was displayed. “We’ve been trying to get this painting here for years.”

“You must be very excited,” Camilo said before he took another drink. “Having a painting worth $80 million as part of your exhibits will bring in a lot of business.”

“Absolutely. It’s just brilliant. As the curator, I get to see the painting at my pleasure, which is also nice.”

“I’m sure you have extraordinary security here to make sure the painting is safe,” Mirabel noted as she also took a drink.

“Of course. We take great pride in our security measures, especially against those who would try to disrupt the integrity of the museum.” As Philip finished the sentence, Camilo’s vision went blurry for a split second. He blinked a couple of times and grabbed Mirabel’s hand.

“He spiked the champagne,” Camilo thought.

“I’m feeling it, too,” Mirabel replied silently.

The curator led them into the room where the painting should have been hanging. It was an empty room. Camilo’s vision was completely blurry now. “You should not have been so eager to get my attention. You are both excellent dancers. It’s a shame you won’t be giving an encore performance.” Two men appeared behind Camilo and Mirabel, holding guns against their backs. “Walk.”

“What’s happening in there?” Dolores’s voice rang out in Camilo’s ears before the man reached in and yanked the earpiece out. He threw it on the ground and stomped on it, hurting Dolores’s ears terribly. Mirabel received the same treatment.

“Who do you work for?” the curator asked. “If you tell me the truth right now, I’ll make it fast.”

“We’re Friends of the Met,” Camilo mumbled, barely able to stay conscious as he struggled to maintain his shift.

“Please, don’t do this,” Mirabel said. “We have a family.”

“So do I,” the curator said. “And we’re going to have a great life once I sell this painting.”

Camilo and Mirabel fell to the ground, the sedative taking full effect. As they blacked out, both of their bodies changed from a middle-aged couple to a couple of eighteen-year-old twins. Philip Rossiter’s eyes went wide as he looked at the two of them.

“I don’t know how they did that,” he said to his henchmen as he reached into his pocket and pressed a button. “But it doesn’t matter. Get them to the back of the house. We’ll dispose of them later.”

Every screen in the surveillance van went static. Dolores threw off her headphones and put in an earpiece before she sprinted out of the van and onto the street a block away from the museum entrance.

“Antonio, I need you at the service entrance!” Dolores ordered as she ran. “Mamá, they’ve been sedated and are being taken to the back. You have to get in there.”

“Got it,” Pepa said before picking up a tray of champagne glasses. “I’m in position.”

Pepa took a deep breath as she reached into the part of her mind that kept her powers under control. She mentally locked the door that had Félix, Julieta, Bruno, her mamá, and her children behind it and put on her game face. “Heading in.”

Pepa stepped into a room meant for employees only, her server’s uniform being the only thing granting her access. No one gave her a second look as she entered the room with ten people and five security guards.

“Ah, good,” Philip said as he entered the room like he hadn’t just sedated a couple of teenagers. “We can finally have our toast. What took you so long?”

“Lo siento, señor, lo siento,” Pepa said, not meeting his gaze as she passed out the champagne.

“What is your name?”

“Cristina, señor.”

“Well, Cristina, we speak English in this country. If you can’t speak English, I’ll find another server who can.”

Pepa nodded, trying like everything to keep the anger out of her face. “I’m sorry, sir,” she said, her English purposefully broken. “I try to speak English for you.”

“Thank you. Keep the champagne coming.”

As soon as the tray was empty, Pepa marched out to the kitchen again. “Dolores, if you don’t do something soon, I’m going to kill that man,” she mumbled under her breath as she poured more champagne.

“Don’t lose it, mamá!” Dolores said in her ear. “If you lose it, Camilo and Mirabel are dead.”

“I know. I’m trying.”

Outside, Dolores found Antonio standing at the service entrance. “Anything?”

Antonio shook his head, putting his hand out to stop Dolores. “Careful, I’ve got a bee’s nest surrounding me.”

“Thanks. What did you send in there?”

“A couple of bees. Sending the entire swarm would attract attention.”

“Good boy. What else?”

“They were going to use that van over there to get away.” Antonio pointed to an unmarked white van off in the distance. “A pigeon told me about it. It was really happy when I asked it to pop the tires. I guess pigeons think cars are loud.”

“You’re so good, Toñito.”

Antonio beamed at his oldest sister before his face fell. “Are Cami and Mira going to be okay?”

“They’ll be fine,” Dolores said, half trying to convince her little brother and half trying to convince herself. “They’ll be okay.”

[retrodaft]

What’s been happening and going to happen for the future

So first off just to clear the blog isn’t ending. I wanted to explain why things have been slow on the blog, lack of uploads, and posts.

Ever since September things started getting busy, I finally saved enough money to buy a iPad Air for drawing. And was excited to start to relearn to use a tablet( I used to do some digital art back in high school)

At the same time while I also had been going back to school ( adult education) to finish my certification cuz things were getting back to normal hahaha na this world still mess up but at least school was open. But then I had another problem, work.

I had been in retail for years, I like my job and my coworkers but it was becoming more stressful and demanding, with a pay rate that was low for this economy. I think we all know especially if you live in American how bad things have been getting with the growing inflation.

What also didn’t help you never leave on time ever. You’re shift done at 9:30 nope you are here intell 10 or even 11 pass. Being understaff and etc made me worried and so stressed. So I got a new job and finish school, cuz I had people on me about “it’s been years why aren’t you done yet?!” The pandemic HELLO.

By January I finished school which yayyyyyyy! And got a another job opportunity. There’s other things that had happened, trying to eat healthy, home issues, car problems, etc. I had TV to keep distracted but then I was changing my mind on what I wanted to watch.

This now goes into what will posting on the blog and thoughts on starwars.

I still like starwars love ya, but I don’t feel the same inspiration and excitement for the newest shows to come. Actually I was barely enjoying anything new from Starwars.

And please this is just my opinion, if you enjoy the sw shows that’s great. But for me everything that came out after mando season two was mediocre, ok or trash. It just wasn’t good, the story , the writing, animation or live action, the freaking editing jeez.

Maybe some of you already know but I don’t care for the bad batch, didn’t care for their introduction or much less for the show. Just didn’t like concept but still gave the first season a shot watch a couple times. Then sw fandom ..

The discourse in the fandom, some of y’all are wonderful in your art and I hope you keep pursuing it. And some of you are cursed, there were more clonest art and debating about sw shows in general, sometimes I wonder if some fans are even real or just bots. The changes to the canon or what even is the canon anymore? Jeez the arguments on canon. Or people putting all the trust into one person thinking they saved the franchise, yeah don’t count on that. Not to mention the weird raise of sexualizing of characters and real people (if you know,you know)

Over the year my attention went to other stuff, my friends got me into model kits it started first with transformers some years back but there weren’t many. But there’s plenty of gundams plus a new show with their first female lead, awesome soundtrack, and girlfriends ooh yes please.

Plus with Crunchyroll I’m able to finally watch some of the old anime’s I saw bits of as a kid. But now able watch the whole thing. Plus coming on the horizon a reimagining of a anime I haven’t seen sense freshmen year huh?!

SO there was a reimagining of Trigun if you haven’t heard please please go watch, I really want a part two please! It’s doing ok in the numbers, you can watch both the new one and the 1998 oh version on both Crunchyroll and Hulu. Watch both, there’s also a the original manga but unfortunately the publisher hasn’t reprint the manga so yeah it’s expensive to buy. BUT THERES HOPE right here on Tumblr you can read for free. But please to donate too cuz these fans are doing the work to translate.

Also NEW TRANSFORMERS MOVIE LETS GOOO, so yeah get ready cuz my art is changing again, I still would like to work on my starwars ocs still.

But there will be more Trigun fanart for sure, along with pics of my growing plant and model kit collection. Photography too, you can look at my toy photography I have done on instagram under the same name. There is gonna be cosplay work too, THANK YOU all for still being here,reading, thank you to all my followers!

It’s been a crazy last year let’s hope for a better one.

[sormatumb]

People who scream at people like this really show their colors when:

-They don't even attempt to empathize with the fact that being horrified and against your backed genocide with your money by the governers is a perfectly valid moral position we've been taught to all our lives. You only scream at people as if they are immature children for not tolerating that, and nothing else.

-Don't show barely anything about the conflict and US complicity because they're too focused on cleaning Kamala's image so she doesn't look bad for the votes, instead of embracing the cynical spiteful pragmatic vote.

-Talk about making activism outside the 4 years that they don't really do. I've seen how many protests, boycotts and local activism there is between the people who say this shit: practically none. The ones who do, who are active, are informed? While many would still vote Kamala, they can't say anything to those who are repulsed by it aside of respectful discussions because they are in the moral right.

-Don't do anything to make people aware of the real horrors made by Israel: the country's pride on the genocide, soldiers celebrating it in the moment, all their politicians calling for final solution, bombing hospitals (remember when the first one was questioned because it was the worst kind of evil, and now we don't bat an eye whenever a new one is bombed every week?), all the children and babies left dead, starving too death or amputated in the worst ways, and the democrats' unconditional support aside of their mandatory empty word concern speech each month; nothing, they shut up. They only reblog once in a while a GoFundMe where they don't donate or do 10$ and go about their day as if that gives them a one-month "I care!" ticket for their clean conscience.

-Loooooove especially persecuting critical arabs and muslims, the biggest victims of this whose identity, group and families are the one being destroyed, and shame them for not accepting their familiars being disposable pawns for your government. Because like most groups on this earth, even on leftists or minorities, oppressing the victims and marginalized within their group to feel superior is the real constant, instead of, you know, the politicians or right-wing, capitalists or zionist nuts who are actually hurting people.

-Never want to talk about how corrupt their system is, the fact that you can only vote (meaningfully) two parties controlled by lobbies (aka legal corruption) and never making plans to go beyond that, instead just embracing it as a self fulfilling prophecy that will never be questioned.

-Refuse to consider the possibility that upholding your vote to the democrats is also a strategy: basically holding them hostages so if they want to win they need to have the minimal moral standard of not enabling a genocide (which one may think it's a given for any person). This has always had mixed results on history, some times the pendulum goes in one direction and sometimes in the other, but it's as valid of a strategy as contributing to the status quo in a way that they don't feel threatened and can do whatever they want. You can think it's invalid and will require having four years of Trump and all the extreme hurt it will do; but it's not "just going with your gut" and that's it, respect their intelligence and morals.

A normal person, when given one of the most public and monstrous displays of western-backed genocide, would be horrified and condemning everybody in government who goes along with it (for more than one year I might add, giving more than 20 billions, more than any moment in US history, by people like Biden who are not only zionist nuts but who even when absolute monsters like Bush or Reagan were in government Biden protested against them back then because they weren't zionist enough because Israel did some attacks, way less than now, and those presidents had to condemn it and stop them, because back then even that was inadmisible, but not for Biden. Or current democrat voters for that matter), and when dealing with those persons, your reaction to convince them at most should be empathy and try to explain the urgency of the situation even if you have to get blood on you hands by rewarding the vice-president who did this. Maybe some massive protests right after the election is over to be a wet blanket on their celebration and put the biggest pressure you can do everyday. Or some kind of contingency plan that shows your actually care and are going to do something instead of a whistleblower.

But no. You accuse everybody who doesn't want to vote to be a hypocrite who is going to murder people by not voting democrats, when the fact that you don't see any moral problems with it and go with a clean conscience is the biggest hypocrisy. Regardless of whether you think it's the least bad choice, it's not going to stop the fact that this genocide is happening, will keep happening and you have rewarded the person who did it, and blood will be in your hands regardless of how much you think there's no other choice, that blood was put on you. That should disturb you. You can accept that fact because you still think it's still the least harmful option, but you are not innocent. And any passivity you show in your life on these topics while your vote her is bigger proof that this blood belongs in your hands forever. Ideally you would canalize that disturbance into anger to massively protest for the government putting that blood in your hands, even if it's after the election.

But no, you just delude yourself that you are just another moral person who made the tactical decision and therefore are guiltless and continue the next 4 years doing barely anything. Because in the end you just want to feel superior to people that you consider frivolous for *check notes* considering a genocide by the candidate who did it, is doing it and will keep doing it inadmisible.

And with this attitude, normal that nobody takes you seriously aside of the people who already think like you, because it reveals what you really think of the genocide and its detractors: a tolerable bad thing that people who don't are just whiny. That's what you have become, that's what you have no empathy for. And people like that don't deserve to convince anybody.

If Kamala loses and are stuck with the monstrous Trump, regardless of how much you are going to scream the people who didn't vote her, know that if she lost it's HER fault, not the ones who didn't vote her because of the genocide. As should be the case whenever a candidate has done and will do genocide. This is a massive failure. So direct your anger both at their government and the right-wing voters who voted Trump, or maybe the voters who didn't vote because "I don't care about politics" (those we can all admit are super immature), but not to the ones who have the most valid reason not to vote for someone you can find because the government did the so-called "never again". This is not a "don't vote for her", it's "if your want to convince people for the most valid reason ever, don't blame and shame them, or else your are the problem". Direct sympathy and debate to them if you want to convince them, try to motivate them about how to make action aside of this election and that all (you and them) use the rage of the genocide forced upon you as the fuel to sustain it all. Remember that having morals means feeling guilty about your choices and if your are emotionally intelligent you'll redirect it too the right places instead of pretending you are blameless (which, need we remind, is because the government forced you to, but you still inevitable are, in the same way a soldier forced to serve and fight in a colonialist war isn't blameless regardless of whether he was forced to it).

And most of all, never blame the least to an Arab or Muslim who didn't vote for Kamala because of the genocide. And listen to them. There's a reason "muslim women with Kamala" disbanded when they saw what she was and wasn't doing in regards to the genocide.

I hope this rent was useful to gain perspective to somebody.

This is the thing with the "I won't vote for Harris" supposed leftists.

None of them will tell you how allowing Trump to be elected helps.

Because they don't have an answer.

Because they don't really care about anything other than how they personally feel.

Actual leftism involves making pragmatic moves. The public will for revolution doesn't exist, and we live in a two party system. If you want to fight that system, great. There are things like ranked choice voting and the National Popular Vote Interstate Compact we need to be fighting for. But those are fights that have to happen year round, at the state level, and not just in an election year.

And in the meanwhile, you vote defensively and strategically, in an attempt to save as many people as possible.

Saying you aren't voting for Harris isn't taking a stand against genocide. It's putting your head in the sand and admitting you care more about your own comfort than making a difference in the world.

Why aren't you getting involved in your local politics? Why aren't you running leftist candidates at a local level, so you can move them up in the system and eventually move the political discussion left. You want to know why politics have moved right? It's because the right wing has been doing that for decades.

Your refusal to participate won't save a single life.

It only means you're abandoning everyone else.

[infinitesimalstarrlight]

This is a probably-cringe post for something that I very much want to happen--something that is highly improbable to actually happen.

Still--here goes (I know it's long, but please read!):

This is my last ditch effort to try to see @taylorswift at the Eras Tour in Indianapolis this Sunday.

You might be asking: Why does it have to be there? Why does it have to be that day?

Honestly? Because my passport is expired & I haven't renewed it yet... And Sunday means I can pack & travel on Saturday, because tomorrow (Friday) I'm visiting a loved one in the hospital.

To be able to go would take a miracle because I can barely afford a $500.00 maximum ticket at this time & I still would need money for a hotel, lodging, travel to & from the city/hotel/airport/stadium. I live in the New England area & am currently only driving in a limited capacity, so a car rental is out of the picture.

Still, this is why I want to go & why I'm putting this out into the universe:

I started paying attention to Taylor Swift after the songs, "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together" & "I Knew You Were Trouble," but I became a full-fledged "Swiftie" after surviving a concussion & ruptured brain aneurysm 6 months apart in 2022. I remember listening to Midnights' tracks after coming out of my 3rd brain surgery in 6 weeks (January 19, 2023).

During my long & tedious recovery, I started going back through Taylor's Versions of her re-recorded albums. I spent time pouring over the lyric videos (one of my favorite things TS does). I fell in love with Midnights, TTPD, 1989, & fell in love revisiting folklore & evermore--really, most of the whole repertoire.

When the Eras tour stopped in the Boston area last year, I was living off a fundraiser my friends had started for me while I was in the neuro-intensive care unit & I wasn't quite ready to go to a show like that yet. And I was also waiting to be awarded disability (another unnecessarily overly long & tedious process).

I'm not naive enough to say that Taylor is perfect (no one is), nor am I happy about her silence on Gaza, nor do I align with her capitalist little heart (albeit a generous heart as evidenced by her sizable donations [that we know of] to food banks along her tour stops in various cities). In the first place, I don't really believe in perfection, silence, or capitalism. Secondly, as a voice hearer, I'm not in love with the harmfully simplistic & single-sided portrayal of voice hearing that pops up in her lyrics (as evidenced in that brilliantly playful & scathing song My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys: "Oh, here we go again./The voices in his head/Called the rain to end our days of wild").

However, as someone who has dealt with a lot of trauma & self-hatred, what I do love is how Taylor embraces the different eras of herself, which I find to be really healing. One of my closest friends is an original Swiftie from the Debut era & the whole Swiftie community (aside from the posing scammers) has been so welcoming & supportive & fun (I'm looking at you, @thediabeticjonasbrother& @agirlnamedally, as well as the Facebook group, Taylor Swift The Eras Tour New Orleans & Indianapolis 2024).

I'm grateful for Swifties. I love live music & I know seeing Taylor Swift perform so many of the songs I have come to love live with a bunch of other Swifties would be healing & empowering.

There's no way I can afford a $2000.00+ ticket from Stub Hub/other ticket resellers since I'm currently not able to work due to my ongoing recovery, so this idealistic (not naive) post is really my last hope of seeing Eras Tour live & in person.

I've had 3 people try to scam me into buying tickets. I've entered so many Eras Tour ticket sweepstakes I've lost count. I've filled out so many forms to buy face-value tickets from dedicated Swifties trying to get face value tickets into the hands of actual fans (thus avoiding scalpers, scammers, & bots), that I have also lost count.

I've looked forward to watching grainy, shaky live streams of the concert throughout the tour & this photo is from a YouTube livestream during one of the New Orleans shows. Thank you @taylorswift for not blocking livestreams 🤍

If anyone has a ticket, a hotel room, some airline miles, some Uber gift cards (do they do gift cards?), please let me know.

Scammers, don't you dare come at me.

Swifties, I'm right here.

@taylorswift @taylornation

[pepsicolabunches]

Getting a bit really stressed about my roommates not working. One is making ei so there's at least some money coming in for rent, but the other quit her job a couple months ago (right after we moved to the new, big house) and has had to ask for everyone else to cover her portion of the rent...

I can't really help much because I don't really even make enough for food, let alone an entire other persons rent

To be clear, I'm not asking tumblr to help with my financial struggles. If you want to help people, there are countless people in crisis that you can donate to. There are people in your own community who could use that help.

I just need somewhere to vent about the fear I'm feeling about my situation. If we get evicted because we couldn't pay rent, I'm absolutely certain I won't be able to find another place, and could end up homeless which, as a disabled person barely holding on, sometimes in constant pain, I can tell you that I will not make it on the streets.

Luckily I do have people in my life that I can temporarily move in with, but not with my stuff. And I do have a lot of stuff. Mostly books and clothes. Almost all the books I've lugged with me across Canada, through my many many moves.

I'm very grateful for consistently having a place to live, enough to slowly acquire many things. Not things that are worth anything, I can't sell them or anything. And I don't want to. Maybe it's a bit selfish but I've worked my ass off dealing with working while being in severe pain. Working while recovering from surgeries. Also, as a person living in poverty, having things means I don't need to buy those things. Which is good because I do not have the funds to just buy things when I need them.

Most of my things I've had for most of my life.

Idk

Idk where my brain was going with this I just... Idk I'm making this about me I suppose. And also about so many other people struggling through poverty. It's like, really really expensive to not have the money for things. I buy cheap items because I can't afford expensive things. I buy things when they are on sale even if I can't afford them because I know it will last longer than buying it cheap.

I've messed up my guts cuz I haven't eaten properly in more than a decade. Not having enough energy to make food means I have to buy things that are really easy to make. Sometimes I have to bite the bullet and spend so much fucking money on getting food delivered because I'm in so much pain I can barely walk to the bathroom, let alone the grocery store and then also making food. Last month I cried making a sandwich because it was too painful.

I guess this is about fear. I'm already aware that there aren't really any systems in place to help people who need it. The systems in place are overworked because they aren't funded properly. They don't really have any solutions for ppl struggling to make rent/buy food. Definitely no solutions for people who are poor and also have health issues. For some reason they expect disabled people to be able to access the same solutions which, often is not possible.

Doctors keep suggesting my roommates act as some kind of a care aide, getting my food, making my food, helping with cleaning, driving me places. But also don't think I have severe enough pain to actually suggest getting a care aide. They just assume my friends/partner are fully willing and able to support me out of the goodness of their hearts. As if the people around me are not also struggling. As if I could just put the responsibility of taking care of a person onto someone who very much did not offer their help. And they shouldn't. I'm absolutely not putting myself in the situation where I am at the mercy of other people's unpaid labour. These are my friends, not my personal workers.

I was trying to get a service dog, but they cost a whopping $40,000. I cannot afford $300/month for food, so there's not a chance in hell I could ever get one. The nonprofit organization that might have covered the cost of it is already full (waitlist also full) so if that ever happens it will be years from now.

Every solution requires a lot of effort (that, again, I do not have the energy for). Every problem requires solutions that do not exist.

I'm doing the absolute best I can and I'm just, acutely aware that it is not enough.

Feeling the weight of stress piling up on me... When I ask for relief, all I get is more steps to climb.

Feeling trapped in this body which is absolutely constantly reminding me of how I am unable to do the things I need to do. If it's not one thing, it's another. I had 7 months of every day pain so bad I had to go to the er many times. Do I know why? No. I'm just grateful I have had a couple weeks of not that specific type of pain. Not that I'm pain free of course. Going to the grocery store a couple blocks away, filling up a rolling cart ($130 of food that won't even last me a week), not making it home without crying because I can feel bones scraping together in my hips (no, not arthritis, just cuz it wants to :))

Genuinely, not sure what I'm supposed to do. Everything I do feels like too much and also not enough. Feels like I'll never climb out of the hole I've wiggled my way into.

So terrified that I will have to deal with all of this while also not having stable housing

Im not expecting anyone to read all of this, I'm just, needing to put this somewhere. Getting the stress out of my brain (hopefully)