#what is the difference between http and https

[blueforpercy]

Reader: What’s a word that’s a mix between sad and mad?

Annabeth: Disgruntled, malcontent, desolate, miserable...

Percy: Smad

Reader: There are two types of people...

[makereadgrow]

RIP Joann, now what?

FIND AN UPDATED LIST HERE

I wanted to make a post I could copy and paste and or link when I see folks asking where to buy fabrics when Joann is gone. I sew a lot, generally between 100-200 items a year and I don't do it on a big budget. Stores are not in a particular order.

Notions:

Wawak.com - start here, mostly stay here. Wawak is a supplier for professional sewing businesses and have the prices that show it. I will not pay for gutermann Mara 100 anywhere else. I buy buttons, tools, thread, and most elastic here.

Stitch Love Studio - this is where I buy lingerie supplies https://www.etsy.com/shop/StitchLoveStudio?ref=yr_purchases

Fabric:

Fabric Mart - this is one where you want to sign up for emails and never buy unless its on sale. They run different sales every day and they rotate. Mostly deadstock fabrics but I buy more from here than anywhere else. Fantastic customer service and if you watch you can get things like $6 wool suiting or $4 cotton jersey. https://fabricmartfabrics.com/

Fabrics-Store - again, buy the sales not the full price. Sign up for the emails but redirect them to a folder because it is TOO MANY. They stock linen or good but not amazing quality. https://www.fabrics-store.com/

Purple Seamstress - This is where I buy my solid cotton lycra jersey. They have other things, but the jersey is what I'm here for. Inexpensive and very good quality. If you ask she will mail you a swatch card for the solids. https://purpleseamstressfabric.com/

LA Finch - deadstock fabrics with a fantastic remnant selection https://lafinchfabrics.myshopify.com/

Califabrics - mix of deadstock and big brands, easy to navigate and always seem to have good denim in stock. https://califabrics.com/

Boho Fabrics - good variety, nice bundles. I have also gotten some really great trims from here. https://www.bohofabrics.com/

Firecracker Fabrics - garment and quilting fabrics, really nice selection and great sale section. I've bought $5 yard quilting cottons here several times. https://www.firecrackerfabrics.com/

Hancock's of Paducah - Quilting fabric and some limited garment fabric. AMAZING sale section. Do not sleep on the sale section. This is my first stop when buying quilting fabrics. Usually the last stop too. Not particularly speedy shipping. https://www.hancocks-paducah.com/

Itokri - This is something a little different. Itokri is an Indian business with incredible traditional fabrics. Shipping to the US is expensive, but the fabric is so inexpensive it evens out. I generally end up paying like $30 for shipping. Beautiful ikat and block prints. https://itokri.com/

Miss Matatabi - this is a little treat. This isn't where you go to save money, but there are so many beautiful things in this shop. Ships from Japan incredibly quickly. https://shop.missmatatabi.com/

Lucky Deluxe - Craft thrift store, always has an incredible selection and fantastic customer service. I need to close the tab fast because I never go to this website without finding something I need. https://www.luckydeluxefabrics.com/

Swanson's - the OG of online craft thrift stores, but I find their website harder to navigate. https://www.swansonsfabrics.com

Honorary Mentions: I haven't shopped at these places yet but I have had them recommended and likely will at some point.

A Thrifty Notion - https://athriftynotion.com/

Creative Closeouts - https://creativecloseoutsfabric.com/ being rebranded to sewsnip.com on March 1 - quilting deadstock

Hawthorne Supply Co. - I just got this rec and I think I need to not look too closely or I'm going to slip with my debit card. https://www.hawthornesupplyco.com/

This is not an exhaustive list of everywhere you can buy fabric, or even a full list of where I shop. There are SO many options out there in the world. You also need to think outside the fabric store box. I thrift men's shirt fabrics for quilts and sheets for backing fabric. I don't do a ton of in person thrifting and my local stores don't get a lot of craft materials but every thrift store is its own universe and reflects the community it is in. Go out and find something cool.

Oh and final note: Don't shop at Hobby Lobby.

[evitcani-writes]

“It seems like almost all of those people don’t have HIV,” said Jennifer Kates, HIV policy director at KFF, a health-research nonprofit. “If they did, that would be substandard care at a pretty severe level,” she said.

Ya’ll. United Health just got accused of $17 billion in medicare fraud.

Basically they made up diagnosis which are improbable or impossible, “forgot” to remove ones which had been cured, and overall allegedly stole billions from taxpayers.

The government pays insurers a base rate for each Medicare Advantage member. The insurers are entitled to extra money when their patients are diagnosed with certain conditions that are costly to treat.

… About 18,000 Medicare Advantage recipients had insurer-driven diagnoses of HIV, the virus that causes AIDS, but weren’t receiving treatment for the virus from doctors, between 2018 and 2021, the data showed. Each HIV diagnosis generates about $3,000 a year in added payments to insurers.

… He said internal company data for 2022 showed a treatment rate for patients UnitedHealth diagnosed with HIV of more than triple what the Journal found. He said the pandemic disrupted care, lowering treatment rates during the period analyzed by the Journal, and that the analysis failed to account for patients who started treatments in future years.

The Medicare data, however, show UnitedHealth’s patients with insurer-driven HIV diagnoses were on the antiretrovirals at low rates even before the pandemic, and hardly any started the drugs in the years after UnitedHealth diagnosed them.

Source: https://www.wsj.com/health/healthcare/medicare-health-insurance-diagnosis-payments-b4d99a5d

I bet United Health really wishes it was a different week right now.

UPDATE/EDIT: Article is from July. I didn’t notice myself since it came up in my news feed. Don’t always trust the internet to be time accurate. 😎My guess is it is getting promoted due to current events. However, there are some updates concerning actions taken based on the report which you can look into by checking the authors’ other articles.

[daglout]

[calumsargwife]

https://www.tumblr.com/calumsargwife/795090396942336000/parents-conference

never been so obsessed

i love the ex-husband trope so bad

the way i would die for something ‘bad’ or stressful to happen to y/n and she calls him out of instinct to which he comes over immediately with no hesitation to help and comfort her wiping her tears away and them just having an intimate moment regardless of being divorced

YOU CALL ME

ex-husband!rafe x ex-wife!reader

summary: After a car accident, there's only one person you want to call.

word count: 4.1k

warnings: language. I don't own a car so maybe what I'm saying is all wrong?😭. car accident. (as always English is not my first language so apologies for any possible grammatical error). any errors would be edited if found.

author's note: hey!! I'm so glad you loved the first fic, I'm also obsessed w this trope 🤭. after the first fic did so well, I'm definitely feeling the pressure lmao but I hope you guys like this one as well.

update: I just posted the tag list for anyone who wants to be added!

EX-HUSBAND!RAFE MASTERLIST.

Wednesdays are always the longest day of the week when the kids are with you. You normally have meetings all day, you spend most of your time between phone calls and zoom meetings while the kids are at school while cleaning your entire house at the same time, planning what your next month is going to be like, where you are going to be and who you're going to be working with.

Parker has hockey practice twice a week and he finishes at 7 pm today, much to your despair. If it wasn't for it, you're day would be over at 4 pm after picking up Olivia from a little playdate with one of her friends. She's been... struggling for the past few months, so every chance she gets to do something different, you and Rafe always say yes to it, no matter how far is it, how late it can be, she's going.

So here you are now, with a sleepy Olivia on her side of the backseat and a grumpy Parker that was complaining about how one of the kids on the hockey team wouldn't pass him the puck right on time multiple times in just ten minutes. He reminds you of Rafe whenever he gets like this, he start puffing, he frowns and pulls that airy tone out of his lips when he's complaining, and he absolutely pouts. Something that Rafe always denied that he did.

The Outer Banks roads are mostly empty, it's a cold night despite the closeness of summer. The humidity is making everything ten times even harder, you feel heavier, everything's slower and the windshields aren't doing enough to keep you from going insane.

You stop at a red light, resting your arm in the window as you closed your eyes for a moment, thinking about how you have to defrost the steaks you'll have for dinner, how Parker has to be extra early at school on Friday and how Olivia enters at 9, the fact that you have to talk with Rafe about the next time you're leaving town and—

You feel a force pushing you forward, a sharp blow that definitely took the air out of your lungs, it's strong enough to feel like you almost broke your neck, your hands stopped you from face slamming the steering wheel. Then alarms, like a car has definitely been hit and it's definitely yours.

What the fuck?

The reactions are almost immediate, Olivia starts crying and Parker starts asking "Mom, mom?!" As he looks around, sounding desperate after the impact. You open your eyes widely, looking back to the rearview mirror next to you and the car behind that just fucking hit you at a red light like it was a free world.

You groan and touch your neck for the sudden impact and the way your head has been moved, especially since you were momentarily relaxed before it happened, you weren't prepared for it. You feel your chest tightening as your start hearing your kids mumbling in desperation.

"Hey, hey." You try to speak firmly around all the noise. "It's okay. Mom's okay," You took a moment to look at them and check for injuries before affirming. They have their hands against the seats, like they tried to stop themselves from hitting themselves with it. They look a little pale and shaken. "You're okay." You said to yourself more than to them before taking a big breath of air, trying to release the weight in your chest. "Wait here, guys." You came out of the car with your heart hammering.

"Hey!" You screamed, entitled to be the one under stress after your car just got hit. You can't even see the person driving the other car, they're front bumper was pretty much destroyed.

You have the chance to take a look to the back of your car, the rear bumper was almost destroyed, dented inwards and the back lights were cracked. The trunk lid had been affected as well. How did this car almost cracked the rear hatch glass?

"Holy shit." The other guy said, a few years younger than you, 25 and probably with his first real car. "What—" He said in shock as if he didn't drove his car into yours. "It was a greenlight!"

You scoffed, voice immediately going high with stress and frustration. "It was not a greenlight!" When he was about to interrupt again, you cut him off. "It wasn't." You said with that authority tone of your that you tend to use with your kids.

Your kids. Ugh, shit.

"Even if it was, why the fuck would you drive like that?! It's an empty road!" You dragged your hands down your

"It was a greenlight!"

“You hit us, that's the end of it. My kids are in the car—” You said, hand gripping your phone tightly with anxiety raising inside of you.

The man interrupts again, raising his hands on the air as a sign of innocence. “Don’t even try to pin this on me. You slammed on your brakes out of nowhere.”

"I was at a red light!" You screamed again, feeling how if this doesn't start to get into an actual logical conversation, you were about to rip your throat. "What was I supposed to do, huh?"

But the guy doesn’t let up. He looks like one of those frat boys that should have finished his major so long ago but he doesn't because he simply won't pass his finals and he wants to extend the experience of having a justification to not work. “Yeah, but you stopped too fast. You weren’t paying attention. You caused this.”

Is this guy for real or are you seriously going mental? "I was already stopped. What the fuck are you talking about? My kids watched it—"

"They're kids, they don't count for witnesses."

"Oh, my God—" You said in disbelief.

"I'm calling insurance. I'm not getting charged for this bullshit—" He said, hand already flying to his phone as if he was about to call daddy for the fifth time this month to get his mess fixed.

"Yeah, call them, please." You said sarcastically as you walked back to the your own car, breathing deeply.

"Mommy, what happened?" Parker said, peaking his head out the window.

"Just an accident, sweetie. Get inside." You said as you gently guided his head inside the car again.

"The police it's on its way—" You heard the guy say, bragging as if he already won this battle.

"Police?" You heard Olivia talking, she was already out of breath as she tried not to cry too much.

Opening the car door to talk to them, you kneeled so they could see your face better. "Everything's fine, nothing's gonna happen—"

"Moooom!" She cried.

"Olivia, everything's fine—" You said, but you knew no words would help right now.

You stood up again, throat closing as you tried to calm yourself. You watched the young man, so clearly in belief that he was entitled to do whatever the hell he wanted around the island. You know these kinds of guys, they believe they own half the island just because their dad is probably a lawyer. But they don't, Rafe probably does.

Rafe.

You looked down at your phone, and almost out of instinct your fingers were already moving to search for his contact. Chest going up and down like a wheel being inflated with how fast your nerves were raising.

You only waited one tone before he answered.

"Hey." You heard, voice husky and tired, he probably just got home. "What happened? You alright?" He immediately questioned, finding your call a little odd. You never call, not anymore.

"Rafe—" You panted, a hand going up to grab your temple. "I— A fucking car just hit us, I'm with the kids—"

"I'm on my way."

Immediate, instant, like lightning. He was already on his feet the moment you called him tho, sensing that you were calling for a reason and he was sadly right. Normally he would've been happy to hear your voice, he would've taken the chance to make you nervous or get a rinse out of you just to get the stimulation and motivation he needed for the rest of the week.

But not this. You sounded so nervous, so out of breath and like you definitely needed help.

"Send me your location. I'm on my way already." He said, sharp and steady, exactly what you needed right now in this moment of instability.

You only managed to whisper a little "Okay..." Closing your eyes again for a second.

"I'm on my way." He repeated again when he heard the tone in your voice, you could hear him grabbing his keys and walking around his own house. "Okay? I'll be there in five. Don't worry."

"Okay, okay." You nodded, breathing out slowly just to get your nerves on check. He hung up a moment later. With trembling fingers, you sent him your location. It wasn't far away from his house, probably twenty minutes; knowing Rafe, he will get there in less than ten.

And he did, right at the same time with the police. He slammed the door of his own car and sprinted outside to meet you. He still had a white shirt on, now tiredly opened on the top, like he clearly just got out of work and had two moments of peace before your call.

Olivia, who was waiting inside the car in anguish, gasped the moment she saw her dad. With an agility that should have you worried at a different time, she opened the door and got out of the car.

"Daddy!" She screamed, already running to him in desperation.

"Hey, hey." He grabbed her when she ran to him, climbing up to him the moment he kneeled down to pick her up. Her cheeks were red and wet with tears, the same way yours get whenever you used to cry. He hasn't seen that image in a long time (he's sort of grateful for it, usually when you used to cry it was because of him). "Hey, princess. You're okay?" He murmured while roughly kissing the top of her head, walking over to where you are as the little kid hid her face on his neck.

Almost barking to get your attention, he called out your name. "You're okay? What happened?" He carefully rested his arm around your frame to pull you closer, searching for your eyes that were on the ground.

You looked nervous, eyes wet with anxiety like they were glasses about to break. "Yeah, this dick hit us from behind—" You gestured to the guy a few feet away from you.

"I didn't hit you, you stopped too fast!" He had the nerve to interrupt.

"Rafe, I was at a red light—" You said, feeling the need to make him believe you. You weren't crazy but you needed his assurance, to make sure that it wasn't your fault you put your kids at such risk.

"I know, I believe you—" He shook his head, touching your face with his free big and rough hand. "Don't worry about it." He murmured only for you to hear, almost unconsciously turning his body just to push Olivia's little ears away from listening, trying to give you both some kind of intimacy. Something he craves to have in any kind of mundane moment.

"You're okay, right? Not a scratch?" He asked as he looked inside the car at the same, checking on Parker, who was sitting inside with a pout and his arms around himself. "Hey, bud. It's dad, you wanna come out?" He talked with the window down.

Parker shook his head, tightening his own grip around himself as he tried to make himself smaller and avoided Rafe's eyes. "P, everything's fine, bud. No one's hurt, it's just another car." He assured the young kid.

At his father's comfort, Parker bites the inside of his cheek before he finally nodded, deciding to come out after a second when Rafe opened the door for him. Showing just how scared he was when he wrapped his arms around his waist. "Relax, kid. You're okay." He said softly, cradling both of his kids.

You look at him, the way he immediately took the charge of the situation. The way he just has this protective side to him that starts working the moment a frown appears on any of your faces, the way he cares about your kids, how he still clearly cares about you and tries to handle the situation just so you don't have to.

The image gets your chest tightening, you place a hand on it, rubbing softly the way you always do when the heartache might just be a little too much.

Two officers got closer, coming out of they're patrolman, walking over with those heavy steps that made everyone nervous. "Mr. Cameron." One of them said, recognizing Rafe.

And of course that Rafe was going to use that to his advantage. Unwrapping his free arm out of Parker and securing his grip on Olivia, he shook the officer's hand when offered. "Sir."

"What do we have here, huh?" The man asked, already taking a look over the accident.

When the police got involved, you expressed you wanted to give a report just to have an official record of the accident, also claiming that you were in a red light, already stopped for a few seconds before your car got hit.

"That's not true!" The guy, that you now know his name Brad (of course he is). "She stopped out of nowhere, she just slammed the breaks."

"That literally makes no sense! You should've slowed down earlier anyways."

"I was doing totally fine." He assured, hands resting on his hips and those stupid ass khaki bermuda shorts that were making no one a favor. "Not my fault you don't know how to drive, sweetheart." He used that cocky tone that made your blood boil. Especially because it was you against him, and the way he was making you feel so small, a feeling you're not used to, is completely crushing you.

"Who are you talking to like that, huh?" Rafe rises to his full height, stepping forward without any kid on his arms now after Parker and Olivia completely secured on his car as the adults dealt with the mess. He means to intimidate, to scare the guy into saying something wrong again.

"Alright, let's all calm down." One of the officers intervened.

The night ended with just the same amount of frustrations. Everyone came to agree that the security cameras (if there was actually any on this side of the island) to check who provoked the accident, but they encouraged to call the insurance company already just get everything started.

You wanted to snap so badly as you saw the tow truck picking up your car to go get it fixed after this Brad guy absolutely destroyed it. You sighed, covering your face with your hands in exasperation. The day was already long enough as it is and now you feel like you have a hundred pounds over your shoulders.

"Rafe, I swear I was at a red light—" You said, throat closing with anguish as you now started to doubt your own narrative. "I mean, like, I closed my eyes for like, two seconds because my head was killing me—" You stuttered.

Rafe tsked, clenching his jaw as his tongue hit his teeth. He shook his head and looked down at you. "You don't gotta explain it to me, alright? I know you don't mess around." He knows how much of a careful driver you are. The time he had to teach you how to drive (so long ago) he was utterly exasperated at how carefully you drove around.

With one steady arm around your shoulders, gripping you like you're about to vanish, he made you get inside his own car. The whole thing had already being dragged out long enough and he hated the somber expression on your face, so he needed to get you out of there as soon as possible before he actually combusts.

After a very quiet ride back home, the kids went running back to their respective rooms once the door was opened. They were uncharacteristically silent during the whole ride, which made your heart break in half with guilt.

Rafe closed the door behind him, helping you to get the kids things inside. He left Parker's gym bag on the floor next to the entrance. "Thanks for coming." You said softly, all the usual annoyance and banter between had been erased by the exhaustion and the spook the accident had given you. "I'm sorry I called so late, I just didn't know who else to call—" Your voice broke with stress and pressure.

For someone who's such a careful and sometimes overprotective mother, this accident is definitely getting the worst reaction out of you. You were nervous, guilty, on edge and worried after everything that happened.

"Hey, no." He quickly cut you off and in two large strides he was in front of you, holding your arms. "It's fine, alright? Don't worry." He comforted you.

"You call me, do you hear me?" He put himself at your eye level, to make sure you were listening to him and actually getting the information inside that beautiful but so aggravating brain of yours, which usually doesn't hold onto the information he gives you. "You call me." He repeated again.

"I just—" You breathed out exhausted, tears willing up in your eyes. "I don't think it was my fault. I closed my eyes for two seconds, Rafe." You said, voice full of self doubt and insecurity. "What if—" you cleared your throat. "Maybe it was at a greenlight and it was my fault—"

"No, no." Rafe's reaction was immediate, purely out of instinct, the necessity to comfort you and to ease the ache in his own chest at seeing you under such stress. "I'm sure you're right. You did nothing wrong." He knows what you're talking about, the fear that this was all caused because of you and the irresponsibility you don't have. He knows you're already punishing yourself inside of your head.

"Parker wasn't wearing his belt, because—" Your voice gave out as a sob escaped out of your lips, complelr inevitable. "He was just throwing a fit and I was so tired so I let him..." You cried in his arms, hiding your face against his chest. "What if it was my fault and..." You breathed through your fast thinking. "It could've been much worse."

"It wasn't your fault. He crashed you, okay? Greenlight or not, he should've slowed down, gone to the other lean. He had space," He sighed at the way you looked and cradled your face. "C'mon, did you see him? He doesn't know shit. I'm sure his dad paid for his license." He smirked softly, trying to get your head out of the self punishment habit.

You shrugged, showing that you didn't care how stupid the other guy was, you just know that the accident had happened and it got the kids really scared and it got your blood pressure over the roof. For now, you just limit yourself to rest your forehead against his chest, allowing yourself to have this one thing. No matter how wrong it is, no matter how your heart was doing gymnastics tricks inside your chest at the feeling of being so close to Rafe all over again.

He let out a big breath again when nothing was working. So, for a few moments, he just rubbed your back, that space underneath your shoulders that he knows that always works with you. His palm was warm against the fabric of your clothes, it was safe and comfortable. And you almost hated (you really couldn't) that it felt like it was always meant to be there.

No one had touched you, comforted you like this in so long and you know no one else will because no one knows how to do it like this. It's a Rafe thing. Something that naturally comes to him after knowing each other for longer than fifteen years already, after an entire life together.

"You call me, alright?" He said again against your ear, voice low and velveted like always. "Whenever something happens, you need help, you call me." And when you moved like you were about to talk, he interrupted again, knowing what you were about to say. "With kids or not, if something happens you gotta call me. I'll go help you."

Because you would take a step back, placing the distance where it should be put. But no, he doesn't let it happen and takes one step further when he dares to say that it doesn't apply just to anything that revolves around the twins. It also applies to you.

"That's what I'm here for." He said now, more gruffly as if he's reprimanding himself. You look up, finally picking up your head from his chest and give him the honor of seeing your eyes. Still so beautiful and so red and tired from crying and worrying so much. "I want you to call me if something happens. Okay?" He asked, grabbing your cheeks with both of his hands now.

"We got a deal?" He asked carefully, softly touching your skin as he takes the liberty of cleaning the tears that stained your skin. So delicately that you almost don't recognize him. And you can't deny that you love it. He rubs his thumbs underneath your eyes, making sure not a single tear is left in there. Not a single drop of stress and pain has to be left, he doesn't want to see it anymore.

A pause settled between you, not heavy with old wounds or the sharp edges of what was left unsaid or with old unresolved resentments that made the feelings linger. For once, it wasn’t resentment that filled the silence, nor the ache of things that didn't work. It was softer than that.

It was just... tender.

"Yeah." You whispered.

And he knows he can't take it further. No matter how much he wants to, no matter how temptingly close you are, he will never do that now. Not when you always draw the line so clearly with a permanent marker, one that couldn't be erased. So, he wouldn't do it.

He contained a devastating sigh and took a step back, finalizing the moment with one last caress on your shoulder.

"I'll come early tomorrow and take them to school." He talked again, leaving no room for argument and you don't dare to do it either. "Rest and let me know what the insurance company says, alright?"

You're left a little bit speechless at what just happened. At what didn't. You don't even know what you were expecting either.

"Yeah, okay." You said softly, watching the way he walked back to the front door, taking the little piece of sanity you had with him.

"I'll see you tomorrow. Rest, don't worry about it." He opened the door and didn't give you much chance to say anything else, almost like he stopped himself from opening his mouth too much.

You didn't breathe after the door was closed, not after a few moments passed, you did it once you heard his car going out the driveway, as if you were scared that with the way he knows you, he might as well hear the way you sigh and you can't let that happen.

He can't be conscious of the way he still brings you up to the edge of the cliff, like he makes you want to jump into the absolute and intoxicating feeling of him.

Little did you know he's doing the same. He only finally lets out the biggest sigh ever after he turns around the first corner back to his own house. He wants to let you know, wants to make you snap and be aware of just how much you still have a grip on him. How he's the one at the edge of the cliff and how you're the one holding him back by grabbing his heart. You could squeeze hard enough or let go of it at any given point and destroy him. You don't even know the effect you have on people.

And you probably don't want to know either.

Your heart does warm up with tenderness the next day when he sends you a selfie of the kids in the backseat of his car, with bright smiles and clean school uniforms on them, just fifteen minutes later after he picked them up like he promised.

He does it to comfort you, because he knows you'll be worried.

So yeah, you'll definitely call him next time.

[ahmad1988]

Hello, my name is Ahmed Qandeel from North Gaza, I have ambitions, dreams and a love for life like any young person in the world. I support my family of 15 after my father was martyred in the cursed war that destroyed everything, but it seems that I will not be able to achieve my dream due to the brutal war on the Gaza Strip that completely destroyed our home, and despite the cruelty of the war, we did not leave North Gaza under inhumane conditions. We have suffered from illness, cold, hunger and drinking polluted water for more than 11 months, and we have suffered greatly from the loss of friends and relatives who were killed in the war for 330 days.

I appeal to you, the international community, to help. I have started a GoFundMe campaign with the goal of raising $20,000 to enable me and my family to find safety in Egypt. Evacuation fees change from time to time; we currently expect a cost of between $4,000 and $5,000 per person. Any additional funds raised will go to support my immediate needs and those of my family. There are many obstacles that we will face on the other side, and I hope that we can make things a little easier for us. I would like to share with you the situation now that the war has intensified. We are fine and safe, but life has become very difficult around us now, people are suffering more and losing their loved ones every day. As a family, we have literally lost everything we own, our homes. Hello! I am reaching out because my family and I are in a really difficult situation, and any contribution you can make to get us evacuated from Gaza means a lot to us - every donation brings us closer to safety and a new beginning. If you can click the link below to help or share it with others who might want to support us, it will make a huge difference in our lives. Thank you for your compassion during this difficult time! We have lost the most precious thing we have, my father, but we are trying to stay optimistic thinking about the evacuation and today we heard good news that the borders might open soon and we are praying that this is true. Once we are evacuated we will try hard to rebuild a small part of what we lost in Gaza. If we can achieve our ultimate goal,

https://gofund.me/68daab3e

we will have the money to start a business to support our entire family. We want to be able to start over and not suffer anymore in Egypt. If everyone can help us with a small donation to achieve our ultimate goal, we will be able to rebuild our lives after everything was destroyed. All the positive words cannot express how generous you are in sharing my posts to inform other donors about the people of Gaza who are still suffering from the terrible conditions caused by the unjust war on Gaza. Please continue to support the just cause in the world either by donating directly or by sharing the link to other media. Do not hesitate to help people in their difficult and miserable times until the dark days are over.

[creatingblackcharacters]

Of course I can! Sorry, I should've sent it before.

Here it is: https://www.teenvogue.com/story/eyebrow-cuts-cultural-appropriation

(for context, here's the original question I asked: Hi! Just curious because I saw an article from 2015 about this -- are eyebrow slits/cuts another example of appropriated Black culture to queer and occasionally mainstream media? Is it still insensitive/appropriation to get one today if you are not Black?)

The Eyebrow "Slit" Trend Is Just Another Example of Cultural Appropriation

Not to mention, a potential regrowth liability.

I mean, once again, we come back around to the difference between appropriation and appreciation. I feel like we're never gonna get past this conversation until y'all learn to recognize and acknowledge WHY something is appropriation. It's not just the wearing of the cut eyebrow, or the cornrows, or my music, or everything else!

It's that y'all will learn these things from us, copy us, and be lauded and style icons and geniuses and what not, while Black people are treated as less than for the very actions that you stole from. It's the constant reinforcement that is "I will steal all of your labor and bear fruit from it, but I will not credit nor value you for ANY of it". Literal mentality of entitlement to Black labor and creation that white society has had since slavery, and one that the rest of the globe (thanks to US hegemony) is picking up on.

So yeah, you can get one if you really want, but you could at least recognize that you're getting it from Black people, rather than some "tiktok fashion trend" that a random white girl claims to have invented. But if you wear things stolen from my body, while disdaining Black people, then yeah it's appropriation.

[the-darklings]

stubble valarr! I repeat stubble valarr!!! (also the glimpse of chest hair is making me actually foam at the mouth im sorry if thats too freaky)

https://x.com/el0rdis/status/2057870297051680905?s=46&t=ryGv1N00_TrWf60yr_ysOQ

valarr has never been a jewellery man. before you he wore a watch, that's it. and the watch is a tool, an asset, a tax on other men's attention. the kind of thing you wear so a room knows your number before you've said a word.

but jewellery is adornment, and adornment implies wanting to be looked at in a way that isn't transactional, and Valarr has spent his whole gold-plated life being looked at and hating, somewhere very deep, that none of it ever landed anywhere real.

then you start playing with his hands.

it's nothing, at first. it's idle. you turn the watch on his wrist while he's on a call, you run your thumb over his knuckles at dinner, you fidget with him the way some people fidget with a pen. except you're not fidgeting, you're handling him, and he goes still under the touch every single time. he catalogues it the way he catalogues everything. he just doesn't tell you what file it went into.

and then a ring appears. a thin band, his right hand. you notice because you notice everything about him too, and you reach over without thinking and turn it once around his finger, lingering with pleased little hum. Valarr who beat you at this game years ago by learning the exact pressure of your thumb... Valarr has to look out the window for a long moment after.

so he buys more. he's a collector afterall. a chain, fine and warm, that sits at the open collar of his shirt so you touch his collarbones. a second ring. a bracelet that catches the light when he gestures with his hand and makes you trace that vein you like again. he tells himself it's aesthetic. it's not aesthetic. it's wolf-shaped bait.

because you tug.

the chain especially. you hook two fingers under it and pull him down to your mouth mid-sentence, mid-room, mid-anything, and it's the hungriest thing he does in public. the way he goes, the way the white streak tips toward you every time and the brown eye goes dark. he lets a chain reel him in like he's grateful for the leash, for your want. it reads, to anyone watching, as romantic. passionate. it is. it's also a claim.

you're putting a hand on something that's yours and demonstrating it, and he's letting you demonstrate it, which is the whole point, because he craves it. which is the deepest thing in him: he loves being seen as yours. he loves being the thing you reach for without looking to check it's there.

(and the internet comments. oof. he's wearing her bracelet again, half the internet has decided, and they're not even wrong. sometimes he is, because you left it on his nightstand and he put it on without a word and didn't take it off, and you smiled when you saw it, circling his wrist. and the line between his and yours has gone soft on him in a way nothing else in his life is allowed to be soft. people screenshot his hands. people make a whole thing of his rings. he never confirms anything. he just turns the band with his thumb when he thinks no one's watching, the way you taught him, the way you do.)

and the stubble. only ever the stubble, now.

he was clean-shaven for nearly thirty years. immaculate. a man who shaved twice a day for a six p.m. dinner. then one morning you dragged your mouth along his jaw and made a small, hungry sound at the rasp of it, and that was the end of the razor as a daily institution.

he keeps it short during the week (Valarr Targaryen doesn't show up to a board meeting looking unkept) but the weekends are different. the weekends are when he can keep you, when there's no reason to let you up before noon, and he lets it grow.

deliberately. he times it. he's a man who plans everything, and he's planned, specifically, to be rough against your thighs by Sunday because you told him once (didn't even tell him, just reacted) that you liked the burn of it on your skin afterward. the faint marks. the burn. the proof. he gives you the proof. he keeps the marks on you the way you keep the chain on him.

it's the same exchange, really. it always is, with the two of you. you want him, and he craves it more, so he adjusts, he welcomes it, he turns himself out a little more so you touch and claim, and the jewellery is just the most visible marker of it.

he wears your hands all over him.

he just calls it style.