Members of the International Ladies Garment Workers Union (ILGWU), carrying placards reading "Chiselers Get Out!," "Hoodlums Can't Make Dresses," "We Will Not Be Intimidated," and "On Strike, Carousel Frocks" as they protest on 35th Street between 7th and 8th Avenues, in the Garment District, February 25, 1959. The demonstration protested the beating of ILGWU organizer Sol Greene at his New Jersey home, with Greene blaming the assault on underworld characters colluding with outlaw garment shops to undercut Union manufacturers.
Photo: UPI/Bettmann Archive/Getty Images
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global strikes against genocide
twt thread for more details
links for resources
links to donate
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valentine's plans? no. aromantic spectrum awareness week plans
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cw: implied dom reader/sub Izuku, humiliation, degradation
“You’re a fucking dirty, rotten pervert, Izuku.” you murmur under your breath, watching how his pretty, curved cock twitches where it lies on his belly. you run a single finger up the shaft, around the bulging vein, until it settles under the head. its flushed a deep red, a pretty contrast to the tan of his skin, the freckles that dot his hip. you look at him from under your lashes, smiling when his eyes flutter and he settles back into the silkiness of the bed sheets.
“Yeah,” Izuku sighs all prettily for you, an almost dopey expression painting his face as you watch his chest rise and fall. its a pretty sight that he makes, with a flush that goes all the way down to his nipples, perky and brown, his pecs wide, and his jaw so relaxed that you watch him swallow every few seconds.
"What would everyone do if they knew what disgusting shit the Number One Hero was into?" you ask quietly to yourself, one hand still toying with that sensitive spot under his head, the other starting to run your nail over the seam of his balls. Izuku sucks in a shaky breath at that, eyes clenched shut as you can almost see how he bites back the need to cum.
"If they knew how much of a little slut you are for me?" you grin now, when his eyes roll open and his mouth drops open in a pant. fuck, he's so pretty like that, when his eyes cross momentarily when you cup his heavy balls in your hand.
"Oh, fuck," he hisses out, hands clenching the pillows beside him tightly. you cock your head at him, can't help but feel like you have to be a little mean to him. but its okay; he likes it.
"Say it. Say you're my little slut." you bite at him, showing him your teeth as you feel a whole body shiver wrack through his body.
"I'm, shit, I'm your l-little slut." Izuku groans, eyes squeezing shut when a drool of precum slides down onto his belly and you scoop it up with that same finger that's been teasing him. you play with the sticky substance between your fingers for a second, almost examining it, before you turn your eyes to him. you smile.
"Good boy."
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When War Mobilization Director James F. Byrnes decreed that a curfew would be imposed effective February 26, the Copacabana laid off 200 of its workers, General Manager Jack Entratter gives the bad news to the crew, February 25, 1945.
Photo: Associated Press via the NY Daily News
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Thanks for the question, Anon! 😄
I use a silicon mat, personally! They’re really nice and washable.
-submit your poll!-
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February 25, 2007 | Source
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