Singing songs? Learning your letters and colors? Imagine having to survive fire and brimstone night after night, cold, hungry and tired. Imagine being barely larger than a detergent bottle, and yet having the horror of wondering if this is the world you live in. That is Mohammed's reality, his siblings' reality, and the reality of every child in Gaza.
Iyad Alanqar - @eyadfamily777 - has desperately been fundraising for quite some time now to help evacuate his family, including his nephews and nieces, from the genocide in Gaza, as well as to find medical treatment and resume his education. The conditions they are living in are unbearable- bombs, phosphorus gas and smoke, extreme temperatures and climate, filth.
Hello,
My name is Iyad, and I am from Gaza. On October 7th, my family and I were ⊠Iyad Alanqer needs your support for Help my family EV
They are Vetted! Family #24!
Please, take the time to donate if you can, and share if you cannot. Iyad, as young as he himself already is, works tirelessly to try and save his family despite his own illnesses and injuries from the constant bombing. The weight on his mind is heavy. Let's help him out as best we can. đđŸ
I hope everyone will share my story so it reaches the largest possible number of people. I hope you will donate to me to save me and my family.đđ
and like i know I KNOW gublerween is satirical i get that but all my oomfs r like itâs so funny im smiling so hard and i have to take breaks every thirty seconds so i donât claw my eyes out.
Mohamed, his wife Mariam and their newborn baby Ibrahim are struggling to survive in Ghazzah.
Both of them are doctors, and they've been unable to work since October 7th of last year when their home was destroyed. They now live in a tent and struggle to afford basic necessities like food and water.
Baby Ibrahim who was born during this siege cannot have formula, diapers, or clothes because of the rising prices and danger in Ghazzah.
My name is Dr. Mohamed Al Mashni 33 years old and my wife Dr⊠Mohammed Almashni needs your support for Help me and my little family evacuat
In order to evacuate, they need to raise âŹ45,000. So far they have only raised âŹ20 with their last and only donation being 9 days ago.
Please do anything that you can to help them, whether that be by donating or sharing their campaign. Everything helps contribute towards their survival.
And then why are you writing him as allistic when he is canon autistic?
smells like projecting and ableism to me
đšPSA to Fellow Writers and Readersđš
So this lovely anon decided to drop by and accuse me of ableism for not writing Spencer Reid as âcanonically autistic.â Because apparently, they have the authority to police howânot just me, but @aliteralsemicolon who also had the pleasure of dealing with thisâportray a fictional character.
In case anyone needs a reminder, Spencer isnât explicitly labeled autistic in the show. That means thereâs room for multiple interpretations of his character. You want to write him as autistic? Go for it. But the moment you decide to hide behind anonymity to attack other writers for not meeting your standards? That's when you cross the line. It's disrespectful. Because hereâs the thingâfanfiction is supposed to be a creative, open space where we can explore characters in any number of ways, including sex.
And since weâre on the topic, I genuinely want to understand, does the suggestion of him having kinks conflict with an autistic headcanon? From what I know (and Iâm open to being corrected), autistic people are just as capable of having kinks and varied sexual interests as anyone else. I think making such assumptions about an entire group of people does more harm than good and erases the spectrum of experiences that real autistic individuals have.
Does that not sound like ableism?
With that being said, let me remind this to all writers: write what you want, how you want. No interpretation is more âcorrectâ than another, and you are not obligated to cater to anyoneâs guidelines. If you come across an anonymous comment like the one above or like these:
or the one @aliteralsemicolon received:
where they start out respectful ("Not to be rude", "no offence", etc) and, it seems whether you ignore or answer, they will continue sending asks that get more offensive and hatefulâŠ
Do yourself a favor. Block. Delete.
And to all the anon critics out there, if you donât like what someone writes, hereâs a simple solutionâwrite your own fic. Or donât. Just donât harass other writers because their vision doesnât align with yours.
if anyone can donate to a gofundme rn, can i ask you to match my $5 donation to @save-mohamed-family?
Mohammed has reached personally out to me to share his story and of his family. His parents and four of his sisters (alongside their families) were martyred at the hands of Israel after the events of October 7 and ever since his family has been facing displacement and numerous health issues: his wife has uterine cancer and hasn't been receiving proper medical care since the bombing started, he suffers from asthma and was severely injured at one leg and treatment is essential for the leg not to go into gangrene and his three children have serious skin conditions that require medical attention.
the campaign is currently at $29,742/$50,000.
Hi, I'm a grad student in NYC who has been active in Palestine solidarity for a wh⊠S G needs your support for Help Mohammed's Family Escape
Fun fact: You are part of keeping a fandom alive. Every interaction, every person in a fandom has their own part to play. If thatâs reblogging art, fanfics or making cursed edits, thatâs good enough.
I'm trying to come back after my lil hiatus, but my job also has me pulling doubles frequently. That means I probably won't be able to turn out fics as frequently, either.
However, when I do return, I want to make reading my fics more enjoyable. If you have any feedback, please feel free to comment and DM. Criticism is always welcome, as long as it is constructive.
In that vein, I also want to make this page more accessible. Once again, feel free to comment with suggestions. This blog is for everyone, and I want to accommodate that.
Tumblr is basically the flooded wwi shellhole we all come to huddle in. No one likes it but its better than standing in view of the snipers (twitter). Every once and a while someone gets a package from home and we all get a chunk of stale and slightly muddy sponge cake to nibble on.
Summary: Reader isn't the best at handling stress, and her roommate Spencer, notices. Luckily, he has quite a few salacious ideas on how he could make her feel better.
Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader
Category: Smut
Content Warning: friends-with-benefits situation, oral (f!recieving), fingering (f!recieving), mentions of anxiety/symptoms of anxiety.
Word Count: 2.7 k
Masterlist
You were never good at handling stress.Â
You were well aware of this facet of your psycheâ the way tensity would often wind around your limbs, snaking into the very depths of your bones until you were entirely drained and devoid of peace, a shell of the person you were accustomed to being.Â
You had dealt with this complication on your own for the most part. Youâd come home after a long day, and attempt to find yourself again through chamomile tea, lavender mists, and a warm blanket.Â
Of course, there were days where even these measures could not suffice in curing your weariness.Â
Thatâs where Spencer Reid came in.Â
Heâd only been your roommate at first. With the economy going as it was, it was simply more practical to find one, rather than renting alone. Heâd responded to an ad youâd put up, and you accepted. The process was easy, honestly. You had no qualms about sharing your living space with another person, and even found the arrangement enjoyable at times. Spencer was well-mannered, never missed rent, and wasnât even at home most of the time. When he was, he was quiet. Sweet.Â
Through time, you found yourself becoming friends with the man. The conversation was light and easy, and in a rare turn of events, you started to open up to him. Even more surprisingly, he returned the favor, adding to the understanding that was fast growing between the two of you. It seemed only natural, since both of you were made naturally vulnerable by the circumstances of your situation. Youâd come to your apartment, drop the mask of the day, and see that Spencer was already there, becoming an extension of the solace you found at home. Soon enough, the comfort of your couch was simply synonymous to him as well.Â
It didnât take long for Spencer to notice the anxieties that would plague you when a deadline came about, or when you simply fixated on an issue for too long. The way your bedroom light wouldnât shut until 4 AM, or how youâd pace in the kitchen, so wired that your body denied you the rest you so desperately needed. He noticed the dark circles, the occasional irritability (followed by an apology, of course), the headaches, everything. Which is why he thought nothing of it to suggest some remedies for your troubles over breakfast one day.Â
âCaffeine can actually increase stress, if you werenât aware.â He says, eyeing your second cup of coffee that morning. âThereâs actually a large amount of data that indicates you should limit caffeine intake, especially if youâre already anxious.âÂ
You narrow your eyes, furrowing your brows slightly. âSays who?â You retort, not quite ready to give up your chosen beverage.Â
âThe NIH, Penn State, the AMA-âÂ
âOkay, okay. Sorry. I got it.â You interrupt, knowing youâd started a losing battle the moment youâd questioned him. âIâll try to cut down on it.âÂ
He grins, satisfied with how the interaction had played out. You, on the other hand, started to drift farther away from your current setting. You swallow, putting down your coffee cup before rubbing your eyes, a soft sigh escaping you.Â
âSomething wrong?â Spencer asks, cautiously, his voice soft.Â
You tsk, shaking your head and shrugging a bit at your own dilemma. âIt's just.. Iâm already so tired. Iâm exhausted and the dayâs barely begun.â You pause, unable to articulate just how fatigued you were. âItâs like I can already feel the mid-afternoon headache Iâm going to get later, and it hasnât even started yet.â You hate the way you sound, longing for the day you could fully relax for even a fraction of a second.Â
âYouâd probably be a lot less tired if you slept a little more.â Spencer suggests, and you shoot him a death glare.Â
âDonât you think I know that?â You snap. âIâm trying. Itâs not that easy. Itâs just-â You groan, stopping yourself as the quick realization dawns on you that youâve misdirected your frustrations. Thereâs a wave of shame rising up almost immediately, heating your cheeks up in regret.Â
âIâm sorry, Spencer. Sorry. Thatâs unfair of me. I know youâre just looking out for me.â You murmur, taking a deep breath to calm your senses.Â
âHey, donât worry.â He says, his voice low and compassionate. âI get it. I know youâve got a lot on your plate right now.âÂ
You nod, closing your eyes as you continue to breathe. He continues to speak, his voice remaining warmhearted.Â
âThere are actually quite a few ways to alleviate stress. Some experts recommend meditation, exercise and yoga. I wouldnât mind doing those with you, if you were interested.â He offers, as he continues to ramble, lost in his own explanation in the hopes of being of service to you. âSome experts even name sex as a useful stress reliever, due to the endorphins and oxytocin released after completion.âÂ
You give a fruitless laugh. âJesus, I wish. I donât have the time to try and find someone willing to do that for me.âÂ
Spencer goes quiet, and you finally open your eyes. Youâre met with his stare, trained on your form, a thoughtful expression on his face.Â
âWhat?â You ask, upon returning his gaze.Â
He clears his throat, shaking his head, as if he was ridding himself of a passing thought. âNothing. Sorry. Iâm sorry. I hope you do find something that works for you though. I hate seeing you like this.âÂ
You soften at his concern. âThanks, Spencer.â You say, the affection in your voice unmistakable. âMaybe Iâll end up taking on.. Yoga? That seems doable, right?âÂ
He smiles. âYoga. Right.âÂ
The days pass on, until you find yourself in a similar scenario youâve been in one too many times. Youâre pacing the kitchen, a small clock reading that it was currently 2 AM. You couldnât even really decipher the source of tonightâs anxietyâ all you know is you feel it, and you feel it deeply.Â
Thatâs when a voice breaks through the darkness, halting your movements altogether.Â
âHey, are you alright?â Spencerâs soft, slightly deeper voice.Â
âOh, yeah.â You call out, despite the growing tightness in your chest. âIâm fine. You can go back to sleep. Sorry for waking you.âÂ
He shakes his head, scratching his head as he makes his way towards you. âItâs nothing.â He reassures. âI needed to pee anyway. Whatâs going on with you?â He inquires, gently.Â
You rub at your chest, biting your lip. âThe usual.âÂ
âWork?â He asks, softly.Â
You purse your lips. âIâm not even sure at this point. Just really anxious.âÂ
His expression softens. A beat of silence passes between the two of you.Â
âIâm- um. Iâm willing to help.â He stammers out, suddenly seeming much more nervous than he was a moment ago.Â
You give a dejected smile. âThatâs sweet, Spencer, but I dunno. I think I have to deal with this on my own.âÂ
âNo, I mean. I can help. Iâm willing to help. To do that for you. Iâm your friend. I want to help.â He restates, his voice a little urgent.Â
âWilling to do what?â You ask, wholly confused with where he was going with this.Â
He takes a breath. âSex. Or, an orgasm, at least. You said no one you knew would be willing to help you like that. I am. If you want.â He blurts out.Â
You stand there, momentarily shocked into silence. Youâre suddenly able to recall the conversation youâd had, just a few days prior, and realize what he was trying to say. Here you were, in your kitchen, with your friend- your roommate, and he was selflessly offering himself to you. For sex. For de-stressing sex. He sounded so earnest, despite the obvious lewdness of his offer, and the juxtaposition made your head spin.Â
âI..â You start, your voice caught in your throat.Â
âYou donât have to feel compelled to say yes. Iâm just offering. I want to help you.â He interjects, his voice still carrying that unselfishness youâd known from the very beginning.Â
âI.. no. I mean, yes. I want to say yes.â You find yourself admitting after a moment. âBut.. are you sure? Itâs.. I mean, itâs sex, Spencer.â You whisper.Â
âIâm aware.â He says, matching your softer tone. âIâm okay with that. Are you?âÂ
You take a breath. Looking up at him, you take in his slightly tousled hair illuminated by the soft moonlight that drifted in through your apartment windows. His white sleep shirt was crumpled, and even in the darkness that enveloped you, you could decipher the kindness in his eyes, his mere presence bringing a shade of ease into you as you spoke to him.Â
âYes.â You murmur out, the words flowing out with no hesitation. âIâm okay with that.âÂ
âCan I kiss you?â He says, gently, and your nod of affirmation is almost immediate.Â
He steps closer and cups your cheek, before pressing his lips against yours gently. Itâs a sweeter kiss, something that, despite never saying out loud, you would have expected from him. His mouth moves languidly against yours, before pulling away, slightly out of breath.Â
âKissing actually helps to reduce cortisol.â He murmurs. âIt indirectly lowers stress as a result. Is it working?âÂ
And true to his words, you realized that the tightness in your chest had faded somewhat, no longer blaring with the intensity you had just felt a few minutes prior. An entirely new feeling settled within you- an ache, a need for this man and what he brought to you.Â
âYeah. Itâs working.â You mumble out.Â
As if he could read your mind, Spencer gently takes your hand. âLetâs move to the couch, yeah?â He murmurs, already leading you to his spot of preference.Â
He gently guides you to sit on the couch, quickly finding your lips once again to exchange some soft kisses along the way. His hands drift up and down your back, fingertips light and tender. His every touch speaks to something more, to an unspoken dedication that youâd never felt before until this moment.
To something that maybe extended beyond the original purpose of your rendezvous.
âIs this alright?â He asks, his tone hushed and reverent.Â
You nod, almost in a trance. He was so gentle, so reassuring. He was exactly what you needed.Â
His lips find yours again and you respond eagerly, letting your hands tangle into the mess of brown hair that sat atop his head. He let out a small groan as your fingers slightly tugged on the strands, sending a thrill through you.Â
He starts to trail the kisses down your neck, seeking out more sensitive spots that could bring you into a further state of rest and repose. Everything about you spurred him on, it seemed. He paid attention to every noise, every movementâ his ultimate goal seeming to hinge on your pleasure throughout this.Â
Of course, you respond accordingly to the dedication, a soft gasp or whimper escaping you when he would mouth at the perfect spot, which would only cause him to increase his actions tenfold, leading to even more response on your end.Â
The perfect feedback loop driving you to pliancy and ecstasy all at once.
His lips begin to drift down, and you realize heâs settling in between your legs now, hands on the waistband of your sleep clothes, urging you to lie down completely, which you do.Â
âGonna take these off now.â He whispers, looking up at you between your legs.Â
âPlease.â You respond, waiting with bated breath.Â
He manages to pull down the last barrier between you two, before being met with the mess heâd created. His lips parted as his fingers trailed lightly over your wet slit, your arousal evident on his finger as he marveled on the effect he could have on you.Â
âJesus, youâre beautiful.â He whispers, as if his eyes are set upon something precious, something worthy of worship. And in a way, isnât that exactly what heâd set out to do the moment heâd placed his face between your thighs?Â
He loops his arms around your thighs, before slowly allowing his tongue to dart out, delicately, tracing the wetness of your pussy. A moan slips out of you, low and needy, and thatâs all the confirmation he needs before heâs diving in, devouring your cunt like a man starved.Â
âSpencer.â You gasp out. You say his name like prayer, like he is god-given, because in this moment, he is.Â
His tongue traces your clit in circles, before directly placing his lips over the swollen bud, applying some light suction. The tenderness in the action, the way his eyes flit upto yours, watching your gaze for the utmost reassurance that he was doing right by you, only hurdle you closer and closer to your pleasurable end.Â
Itâs almost as if youâre floating, your back arching as his face stubbornly stays buried in your cunt, lapping at your wetness insistently. He wants your release just as bad as you do, and itâs clear heâll do anything for the sweetness that comes with you falling apart in his arms.Â
âOh god.â You moan out- how is it possible to feel so airy, and yet so present all at once? To feel every movement of Spencerâs warm, wet tongue lavishing your clit, and still be somewhere else entirely- a new height of pleasure you had sorely needed all along.Â
One of his hands leaves the iron-grip it had your thighs in, letting his fingers drift towards your entrance. He slips the digits in, slowly pumping into you, only adding to the overwhelming rapture you found yourself in. Your eyes shoot open, and you find yourself writhing against him.Â
âSpencer- oh god. Please, please.â You babble out, legs starting to tense with the beginnings of your orgasm.Â
He only pulls away enough to murmur softly. âThatâs it.â His fingers continue their steady pace into you, his grip on your thigh keeping you planted to the mattress. âI got you, love. Come for me.â
With nothing else to say, he resumes eating you out, and the combination of his fingers and mouth finally barrels you towards your orgasm, shuddering as it rips through you, as your every sense is clouded- with this, with him.Â
Itâs only until youâve ridden out the entirety of your orgasm that he pulls away. Sitting upright, he leans forward to caress your jaw, taking in the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the flushed appearance your face had taken on in the throes of gratification.Â
âFeeling better?â He asks, softly.Â
âEntirely.â You whisper back, almost in awe. Not only at how well it worked, but how adoringly he stared at you, it being enough to stop your heart in your chest. Did he always look like this? How did you never notice?Â
âCan I return the favor?â You implore, already beginning to get up, but Spencer pushes you back down lightly, shaking his head.Â
âYouâre tired.â He says, as if his word was fact, despite these being your feelings that were being spoken about. âRight now, the oxytocin coursing through your body is priming you perfectly for sleep, and God knows you need it.â He chuckles out.
You realize that heâs right, and for the first time, you feel the fatigue that comes naturally with sleep, as opposed to the restless nights youâd been dealing with. You still feel disappointed though, feeling a sting of rejection as youâre unable to touch him back. Still, your tiredness is undeniable, and so you nod.Â
He gets up, finding a blanket to lay on top of you, before kneeling beside your face. He looks at you with subtle veneration, before letting his lips brush against your forehead.Â
âIâll take you up on your offer tomorrow, though, if thatâs alright.â He murmurs. âWhen youâre rested.âÂ
Your smile is immediate. âDeal.â You whisper out.Â
He looks at you for another beat, before letting his knuckles brush against your cheek, slowly retreating to his bedroom, as to let you get the rest you so desperately needed.Â
You close your eyes, amazed by the tranquility that came with Spencer. How simple intimacy came with him, as if thatâs how it shouldâve been all along.Â
You know youâll ponder on this fact in greater detail later on, but for now, you relished in serenity of the afterglow.Â
âSpencer Reid.â You think. âWhat divine comfort you are.âÂ
HOOOLY SHIT. how long has it been since i uploaded? a long time? i think. hahahaha. in between traveling, [redacted life updates], and even more, i just wasn't very inspired to write. i hope this speaks to some of you, and i hope it was enjoyable to read. as usual, any likes, comments, reblogs are so so so deeply appreciated. feedback as well! thank you so so so much for reading regardless, i am eternally grateful for any and all support <3 (oh also haha. this was written for @imagining-in-the-margins friends with benefits challenge! check it out.)
I donât know what butch out there needs to hear this but
You donât have to conform to societyâs definition of masculinity, thatâs not what butch is about.
You donât have to show zero emotion
You are allowed to take care of yourself and ask others to take care of you
You are allowed to have a hard day and want to just crawl into your femmes arms
You are allowed to adhere to your own sexual preferences
You are allowed to have âfeminineâ interests
You are allowed to not be able to care for everybody
You are allowed to be butch outside of your relationship
Only you live with yourself 24/7, so only you can understand yourself fully. Anybody who tells you youâre not butch, probably doesnât know you. These people on the internet donât know you. But you do!
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