#i want to be more social on here like i used to be

[fading-event-608]

Hello! I see people here are talking about Gaza again. 

I’m not one to vaguepost, nor do I usually spend time arguing with zionists and liberals online, but the amount of “pro-Palestine” liberals I’ve seen in the last day saying that Gazans “deserve genocide” because Trump won…

I’m not surprised to hear that democrats are mad at third-party voters. It’s true that even if all swing third-party votes went to Kamala she’d still have lost, but reality isn’t important to these people. Democrats want a monopoly - of course they’re upset at everyone who isn’t voting for their party. Of course they’re more upset with communists and anarchists than they are with nazis.

None of this is new. But even though we’ve seen these patterns before, I am absolutely sick to witness these people blaming Palestinians for this. I’m sick hearing them almost gleefully wishing for Gaza to be turned into a parking lot. I’m sick coming across individualistic little diatribes about how they’re “done” boycotting, “done” helping others.

Is it Palestinians’ fault that Kamala’s campaign was so poorly run?

Is it Palestinians’ fault that the US is now so full of nazis that the Democrats lost the popular vote for the first time since 2004, by 5 million votes?

Is it Palestinians’ fault that the US supplies and supports Israel in their annihilation of Gaza and other occupied Palestinian territories, as well as neighbouring countries?

Is it Palestinians’ fault that the government assisting Israel’s genocidal project was, for the past four years, Biden’s administration? A Democrat’s administration? 

The crime that Palestinians have committed in the eyes of these liberals is the crime of existing where said liberals can see them - namely, on social media. The unofficial charges: not being silent, resisting, asking for help from the people best equipped to give money for their survival. So again, I’ll ask - is it the fault of Palestinians that the people best equipped to help them are those in the imperial core? That the people Palestinians must go to for help are people benefitting from both this genocide and the genocides the empires that house them are built on?

Of course the gravest offence is interrupting the liberal supply of white noise. Comfort is, after all, the biggest priority in liberalism - silence and denial is self care. Murder by proxy is the most popular of hobbies, and is best enjoyed with the sound off. But Palestinians are not quiet. You can see their faces now - and the identification of them as something other than faceless, or rather someone, begins to burrow through the insulation built up around you. 

You have the barest sense of how fragile your world is. You can either turn away from this, or continue your journey towards the truth. These liberals are examples of those violently turning away and taking up the slaughter again, desperate to dispel any reminders that they are not the only people on earth worthy of life.

You can literally buy an indulgence now by donating to a Palestinian fundraiser. Yes, even if you’re not a Democrat, or you’re from Europe (chances are your government supplies Israel too, or is at least complacent), or there’s any other facet of your identity that supplies nuance. This is up to all of us, no matter who we are. 

I’ve been spotlighting Falastin’s campaign to save her family in Gaza for more than two months now. I will continue to do so until they’re safe; but their safety will likely be a long time coming. This is in part because Falastin’s campaign must support 24 people, and in part because donations are slowing down - not only for Falastin, but for a lot of other fundraisers I keep an eye on. To be afraid for so many people while watching liberals angrily abandoning this cause is distressing and disheartening.

This is life or death. I don’t care who you are, and I care even less to hear if you’ve voted or who you voted for. All I ask is that you boost this post and, if you can, donate to Falastin. The Gofundme is in SEK and the rates are:

10$ = 107 SEK

25$ = 269 SEK

50$ = 538 SEK

100$ = 1,076 SEK

You can also donate via PayPal in USD: [LINK]

We also host a raffle for hand-made Palestinian thob [info HERE], and the first winner will be chosen in a bit less than 2 days. 

P. S. Yes, Falastin’s campaign has been vetted, several times across multiple platforms:

#282 in El-Shab-Hussein and Nabulsi's spreadsheet [HERE], 

#957 in the Butterfly Project spreadsheet [HERE]

Falastin's account: [LINK]

[maaarine]

Why are British teenage girls so unhappy? Here’s the answer (Caitlin Moran, The Times, Sep 13 2024)

"The report, by the Children’s Society, found that British 15-year-old girls are the most unhappy in Europe.

British girls aged 10-15 are “significantly less happy” with their life, appearance, family and school than the average boy — and their happiness is still declining.

Boys’ life satisfaction, meanwhile, remains broadly stable. (…)

But I still didn’t have an “aha!” moment about why this so disproportionately affects girls until… I talked to some teenage girls.

It was at a party, and I went to vape with them on the patio. Because I take my nicotine like children do.

“Duh — it’s the boys,” one said when I brought it up, as all the others agreed.

“The boys?” I asked.

My last book, What About Men?, had been all about how much boys struggle these days: their loneliness; their suicide rates. I’d spent the past year feeling very sympathetic towards boys.

“Yeah, well, who do you think they’re taking out their unhappiness on? It’s us,” another girl said.

“One boy at school used to draw a picture every day of how ugly I was,” a third girl said. “Every day for two years.”

“They’ve all got ‘Rate The Girls’ polls on their WhatsApps,” the first said. “They mark you down for weight gain, haircuts, what you say.”

“But then, if you’re hot, it’s just as bad, in a different way, because they’ll be talking about how they want to f*** you.”

The girls discussed coping techniques. Bad news: none of them worked.

“The only way you can stop them is if you become ‘one of the boys’ and hang out with them. But then,” the second girl said with a sigh, “all the other girls call you a slut. Because you’ve gone over to the boys’ side.”

“Surely it’s not all the boys?” I said. “There must be some nice boys?”

“Oh, yeah,” one girl said. “But they keep their heads down. Because… well, look.”

She showed me the Instagram account of her friend. Under every picture she posted of herself — smiling in a new dress; with her dog — dozens of anonymous accounts had replied with the most rank abuse.

“Fat.” “Slut.” “You gonna try and kill yourself again, for attention?”

“They’re all boys from her school,” she said. “And look, this one boy tried to defend her.”

I saw a series of messages from a brave teenage boy, posting things like, “You’re all big men, leaving these replies under anonymous accounts.”

As I could see, this boy immediately became a target too. Mainly accusations that he was “white knighting” this girl: “You wanna f*** her, bro?”

“So,” I asked, “you don’t think it’s social media pressure to be beautiful, or the economy, that’s making girls so sad?”

“Well, yeah, them too,” the first girl said. “But, Monday-Friday, 9-3, I’m not on social media. I’m not… in the economy. I’m just with these boys. And no one talks about how horrible they are.”

I thought about another recent report, showing a 30 per cent ideological gap between Gen Z men, who are increasingly conservative, and Gen Z women, who are increasingly progressive.

I thought about Andrew Tate, who has nine million mostly young male followers — and faces human trafficking charges, which he denies.

And I thought: maybe these girls are on to something. Maybe more people need to vape with teenage girls and ask them for the school gossip."

[amazinglyashy]

Hi! I was wondering if I could request a prompt where the reader is out at night with the LIs, wearing a pretty outfit, a man just approaches her and rudely asks “how much for a bj?” How would they react/protect her from such a creep?

(Sorry, for my English, I hope it made sense haha🤞🏼)

Very Minor N/SFW Warning!! This one really made me laugh because this has happened to me before, and the situation mostly pans out with my own partner having to yank me away to avoid having to post bail on me later in the evening. Remember to leash your dogs kids! Thank you for the request!! <3

LaDS men when you get catcalled/propositioned on the street

Xavier -

He's apologizing profusely to you because the ensuing bloodspray from how hard he punched the guy in the nose got on your dress and he genuinely feels awful about it.

There is not much to it, besides he acted embarrassingly quickly, to the point you wonder to yourself if he's just been silently waiting for this moment to come.

He's used to going out with you for drinks or evening dates- it's one of the more common ways for the two of you to hang out aside from spending the evening in one of your apartments with the other. Juggling work and clocking out with social activities would also mean walking late at night, to go to a movie or even on a snack run.

So needless to say, he has in fact, been mentally preparing himself for something like this to happen.

He can't help it.

He doesn't ever want to see you disrespected- he doesn't care the context. Work, family, friends-

And now, what, a stranger asking you for sexual favors?

You wait calmly with him while he speaks to the officers about what happened, trying to contain your giggles at how sheepishly he looks at the ground, his face still painted with the most adorable anger.

Zayne -

Quickly, he's pushed you behind himself and holding eye contact with the guy. It doesn't matter if he's drunk, or perfectly sober, Zayne won't excuse someone saying such a ridiculous thing to you.

He has his usual air of politeness and manners, but the bite in his voice is more than apparent, even to someone who doesn't know him. Dressed as nicely as he is with the air he carries around him, it's a weird experience for those who don't know how protective Zayne can get.

He will tell the man to give you an apology and back off, or there will be consequences.

You know what those consequences are, and despite feeling smug about how protective Zayne is, you're trying to grab his arm and stop him, to no avail.

If the creep tries to reach for you, Zayne will back up into you to force you back gently, and the man will quickly realize that he can't reach forward anymore-

Even as Zayne walks away with you, the ice is still creeping up the man's body. Slow enough, but still moving.

Hopefully an OTTO calls for help in time. Hypothermia at night would suck.

Rafayel -

He's immediately between you and the guy, hand long since dropped your own as he crosses his arms and stares the guy down.

If you hadn't known him so long, you would expect him to fire off a tirade of insults and comments at the guy- but you know Rafayel. You know him well.

He tells the guy to back off, in the most simple of terms as he glare is enough to set the man alight- and Rafayel's evol does just that when the guy doesn't seem to back down- lighting up the shoulders of his clothing and causing him to flay around screaming, as Rafayel pulls you to keep walking.

The amount of tasteful compliments on your attire rise, and you know he's doing it to keep you from internalizing the earlier interaction and stop dressing how you want.

He doesn't need some random freak to keep you from expressing yourself how you want to. Of course, he'll always find you attractive, and the little outfit you're wearing is doing numbers to him, but that's not his focus here at all.

He wants you to feel comfortable, confident-

And he'll do everything in his power to make sure you always do.

Sylus -

I am not entirely sure the man who's asking you has finished his sentence before he's slammed once against a nearby building and then released.

Sylus makes no motion to indicate that it was his doing, continuing to walk along with you to wherever the two of you had been going in the first place-

But you knew.

You had seen his stupid red mist envelope him.

For a second, you'd been scared that he was going to kill the guy- and while you knew someone who was comfortable saying such a thing to someone needed to be put in their place, 'murder' was not at all the same as 'putting someone in their place'.

No, he was just slightly- sort of- broken.

Just a bit.

Sylus won't react much, he may give a passing comment about the man, but otherwise, he's back to complimenting you or conversing with you about whatever subject you two had been discussing prior to the creep showing up.

"Sorry, sweetie. I know you don't like bugs. I tried to handle it as... efficiently, as possible."

[elfwreck]

I will be blocking Trumpists as I spot them.

I will also be blocking anyone I identify as a Stein voter, anyone I can ID as "I can't vote for Kamala because she doesn't share ALL my values," anyone who says "eh it's all the same; they're all corrupt," and anyone who says "voting just perpetuates the oppression," and so on.

Are those evil people? No, not all of them. Not even all the Trumpists.

Do we need them to build a better world, to make the communities we want to happen? Yes.

But I don't need them in my Tumblr feed.

If they want to talk politics with me, they can meet me at the coffee-and-pastry shop at my local train station. They can ask for an invite to my weekend tea parties. They can join FAPA and we can chat via quarterly paper fanzine exchange. They can show up at Worldcon next year and find me between panels.

Oh, they're not local to me, not in scifi fandom, don't like tea, don't go to conventions?

Well, then I'm certainly never going to notice any results from blocking them.

My focus for the next few years is boots-on-the-ground solidarity and support. Online is for my happy fluff time break from stress, and strategizing with other people with similar activist goals. I am not going to waste that time arguing with people shilling for fascists, no matter how innocently uninformed they are.

There are people whose ignorance is understandable and not their fault. But if there here - on Tumblr, in the politically-active progressive areas online - they can damn well figure things out for themselves. There are plenty of resources for them; I no longer have time or energy for spoon-feeding fascist apologists.

(Oh, but if they have an epiphany and get better, won't I still be blocking them, now that they are potential allies? Fuck yes. I have plenty of people to talk with, more than I have time for. I am focusing on the ones who didn't fuck us all over in the 2024 election. If I run out of those, maybe I'll consider unblocking.)

("Hey elf, nobody fuckin' cares who you block." Um, fine? I am not here to be an Influencer. I am here to help my friends and find enjoyable fannish content. I am setting personal block policies for me, not to change the shape of social media.)

The "if you voted for Trump unfollow me" posts are returning, but given then general makeup of your average tumblr user I think there's a different message I'd like to give.

If you didn't vote because "both parties are the same" or "it won't make a difference" or because Kamala wasn't the pure and perfect leader that you wanted or you "didn't want blood on your hands", honestly whether or not you follow me doesn't make a damned bit of difference. But I want you to look. Take a good look at the despair around you right now. And every godforsaken thing that follows I want you to fucking look. Look and know that you could have helped prevent it. We still haven't recovered from his last four years, the world hasn't fucking recovered, and now we're staring down the barrel of god knows how many more years and a river of fucking blood to come along with it.

But your pride and your principles were more important to you than the actual real fucking world we live in.

I hope, if nothing else, that you can take this in. I hope you learn. I hope you grow. I hope you find it in you to realize that in this country they soak our hands in blood the second we take our first breath and the only thing that matters then is what you fucking do with them. What you fight for. Who you fight for. Who you defend.

I hope you wake up. And you step up. And you fucking fight.

But until then. Don't you fucking dare look away.

[mattslolita]

꒰shy!matt & fuckgirl!reader꒱ ⟡headcanons !

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚

꒰ SFW! ꒱

fuckgirl!reader would've . . .

✦ met matt at a party she was hosting — well, more or less she would've bumped into the poor kid; she'd never seen him around before, but from taking one look at him? it didn't take too long to have him under her arm by the end of the night.

"never seen you around here before...came with friends?"

"my brothers dragged me here, m'not sure what i'm even doin-"

"are you- you're one of those triplets, yeah?"

"yeah, i'm matt-"

"think i'm gonna like you, matt...stop fiddlin' baby, m'not gonna bite you, 'kay? unless you're into that."

fuckgirl!reader would . . .

✦ make it a point to drag matt to every party she's either hosting, or attending — he's nervously got his arm around her waist, whilst she's combing her freshly manicured nails through his brown locs while greeting her friends and whatnot.

"y/n, who's this?"

"this is matt, cute, ain't he?"

fuckgirl!reader would . . .

✦ not make it clear, but basically matt is hers — dating? no. whatever they were, everyone knew to steer clear of the shy, blue eyed boy, for her claws were already nestled knee deep into his heart.

"you here with someone? why don't you-"

"back the fuck up an' leave, yeah? he's with me."

fuckgirl!reader would . . .

✦ secretly enjoy matt's constant need for physical affection — the subtle whine as he desperately tries to get her attention whether it was reaching out for her, or brushing his hand against her thigh.

"pretty girl..."

"whatcha want baby, huh? wan' me on your lap? use your words f'me."

"on my lap...please..."

"course, pretty boy, c'mere."

fuckgirl!reader would . . .

✦ be ready to throw hands with whoever says one thing about matt's shy nature — their contrasting personalities is one of the reasons she gravitated towards him; the shy, quiet boy and the social butterfly of a girl — she wanted to preserve that much about him.

"kid doesn't even fuckin' talk half the time."

"y'know what, i'd rather him barely talk and have him say something intelligible- which is more than what i could say for you cause every time you open your mouth, it's fuckin' nonsense. fuck outta here."

"y'think i'm intelligent?"

"what kinda question is that, huh? course i think you're smart, pretty boy."

fuckgirl!reader would . . .

✦ never admit it, but she loves it when matt does girlfriend like things for her — whether it was the casual arm resting on her hip or the shopping sprees, she loved every bit of it.

"aw, this dress is too cute! whatcha think baby?"

"put it on my card, pretty girl."

"what, no way, matt. i can pay for it myself!"

"b-but i just wan' do somethin' nice for you...can i buy it for you? please?"

✦ but it was the small things that really did it for her — she loved it when he grabbed her possessively, or when he studied with her after school. little picnics, cozy dinners, and cuddles warmed her heart the most. ( but you'd never catch her admitting to falling for him. hard. )

fuckgirl!reader would . . .

✦ secretly steal matt's clothes if she's over his house — little by little, things like sweaters or shirts would make disappearances because she's busy taking them for herself.

"princess, have you seen my boston jersey?"

"tsk, not that i know of, baby. if i find it, i'll give it to you!"

( as the jersey sits tucked away at the top of her drawer. . . )

fuckgirl!reader would . . .

✦ unknowingly have an affect on matt and his tendency to not speak up for himself — her unapologetic bluntness helped alot.

"i don' think she wans' me, she jus' wants to study-"

"she wants to fuck you, matt. an' there's no way that's happenin' on my watch."

"i'm serious, princess! she-"

"matt, shut the fuck up. you're not goin' to study with her, got it?"

"yes ma'am." ( oh ma'am drives her wild. )

fuckgirl!reader would . . .

✦ do small acts of dominance if she felt like someone wanted to get at matt — she didn't care if they were around people; if she felt the need to start making out with him in a crowded room whilst people watched them, she's doing it.

fuckgirl!reader would . . .

✦ unknowingly smile at small things matt would do, like if he started rambling about something that happened to him that — the way his brown curls fell messily across his forehead whilst his arms flailed around animatedly, and the way his blue eyes were slightly widened and his cheeks had a pink tinge to them due to his excitement. . .she wouldn't even realize she'd been admiring him the whole time, not even listening at one point.

"...hey, y'still there?"

"huh? what?"

"were you starin' at me? stop that..."

"aw, why should i, pretty boy? y'look so cute all excited an' shit. keep talkin', gorgeous."

꒰ NSFW! ꒱

fuckgirl!reader would . . .

✦ take matt's shy nature to her advantage, and completely slut that boy out.

"p-please princess...n-need t'cum, please..."

"aw, am i ridin' you too good, can't even speak up when i ask you to?"

fuckgirl!reader would . . .

✦ purposely mess with matt by cuddling up to other guys ( never actually fucking them ) because she loves the way matt pleases her when he shows her how much better he can make her feel then all the rest.

"oh go- fuck, so good, baby! ya such a good boy f'me, don't stop..."

fuckgirl!reader would . . .

✦ love cowgirl with matt, always forcing him to look her in the eyes whilst she rides him.

"fuck, fillin' me up s'good, pretty boy. look at me baby, wan' see them pretty eyes..."

fuckgirl!reader would . . .

✦ let matt suck on her breasts like the needy man he is — instead of asking to please her, he'd look up at her with sultry eyes and begin sucking on the soft mound of skin, silently asking to do more.

"whas' the matter, pretty boy, tell me what you need."

" please...jus' wan make you feel good..."

fuckgirl!reader would . . .

✦ endlessly tease matt in any way — she would grind against his clothed erection, sucking on his neck in that sweet spot that makes him weak,

"i- fuck, n-need t'feel you, princess."

"gonna be good f'me, sweet boy?"

"y-yes, always..."

✦ and she would always tease his tip before fully taking him — kitten lick on the underside, hearing the needy whimpers leave his lips as she grins up at him, seeing his flushed and exasperated expression.

"i ju- wan' cum princess, please just touch me."

"patience pretty boy, such a pretty cock...gonna make you feel s'good, yeah?"

shy!matt who . . .

✦ blindfolds you whilst he eats you out — he's too timid to have you see him grind against the bed needily while he devours you like his last meal.

shy!matt who . . .

✦ whimpers upon the smallest touches you gift him with, leaving him extremely frustrated and needy for you.

shy!matt who . . .

✦ cries during sex because the pleasure is too overwhelming for him — the feeling of being inside of you, how intimate it all was, made him emotional.

shy!matt who . . .

✦ loves giving and receiving marks — he loves to mark you up on your inner thighs and your neck, and he loves receiving them everywhere on his body.

shy!matt who . . .

✦ is a giver — he loves your praise as he pleasures you with his tongue, much for his own enjoyment as much as it is yours.

( lilly's corner 💌 )

so so excited to introduce fuckgirl!reader & shy!matt !! they're gonna be another one of my favs, i hope you guys will like them !! muah.💌

taglist🥝 : @muwapsturniolo @thenickgirl @luverboychris @cottoncandyswisherz @chanelles-world

@sturnprime @aelinslegend @chrissturniolossidehoe @sturniqloo @chaossturns

@fairyrcts @mbbsgf @sturnsxplr-25 @moonk1ss3d @oliviasturniolo21

@wh4re4chratt @cyberdre4ms @luvleyangeldust @pvssychicken @lovesturni0l0s

@delilahsturniolo @venusxsturnio @chrissystur @sweetangelgirl7 @wovenribbons

@chrispotatos @chrissystur @jetaimevous @55sturn @yn-ws

@u-didnt-see-this @caseybennett @lowkeyobsessedwthesturniolos @sparklyskies0

@sturnsxbitvh @watercolorskyy @bagsbyclair0 @lovingregulusblack @starkeyszn

@victoryouactuallydidthis @colorthecosmos444 @elizasturn @y3sterdaysproblem @mattsfavoritestar

@78yaz @raerae1230 @slvttie-zx

[ruyakasunshine]

F1 drivers rated on how likely they are to know what ao3 is

note : this is just for entertainment. I will also use this to make a general reminder not to get anything fanfic/rpf related outside of sites such as tumblr, ao3, or wattpad. Enjoy!

This is just the current grid, because if I had to do it with every driver that raced this season, I'd get a surprisingly high amount of drivers to talk about.

20. Fernando

Grandpa. Need I to say more?

19. Checo

In a recent GQ Sport interview, he revealed that he didn't even have social media on his phone. I'd be surprised to hear he has any ao3 tab open up there.

18. K-mag

I don't feel like I need to explain this one. But I also believe that if Haas got him to read a chapter of a wattpad fanfic out loud where he has to replace Y/N with his own name after every penalty point he gets, he would have stopped causing so much ruckus. Or he might even cause more, who knows what goes on inside his mind.

17. Nico Hulk

Hear me out, he doesn't know what a fanfic is, but if he were more popular with the writer, he'd read the shit out of those.

16. Valterri

I could pay actual money to hear him read a 'kidnapped by one direction' self insert story out loud. If there is any Sauber intern lurking here, please consider. Wattpad as a sponsor would bring you a lot of money, think about it. I promise you will see a rise in your fandom if the name of the team was "wattpad kick sauber". I would buy merch. You need the money the way the constructors are going. Think about it.

15. Lance

I don't know too much about him, but I will assume he doesn't spend too much time on social media, or googling himself with all the hate he gets. But maybe if he were to read a strollonso fanfic, we might get to see him have actual expressions on his face. Granted, that would be a look of horror, but I will take what I can.

14. Carlos

I think he might combust if he read any ABO fanfic. I might want to see that.

13. Max

He is too busy sim racing to care. Good for him, I wish I could say the same about myself but alas I am too busy reading the same fanfic for the 23th time.

12. Yuki

I believe if you pronounced the term "Y/N" next to him he might assume that's a car brand. Or, like, hello in a foreign language. Again, good for him.

11. Zhou

Hear me out, fanfics seem to be quite popular in China, and he has a sister, there is no way he hasn't heard of the existences of it. I don't think he has read any though, which is for the better.

10. Franco

Our dear Franquito hasn't been on the grid for long enough to discover the amazing word that fanfics have to offer, but let me tell you that if he hasn't found out stuff yet, he'll find some soon enough. Let the writers have time to write a little bit more about him, and soon we'll get an instagram live of him reacting to those.

9. Liam

I think he is young enough to have googled himself (he had to find something to do since he's been a reserve driver since like the year 2010), but he also hasn't been a permanent member, so he might not have enough material to accidentally stumble upon.

8. Esteban

He googles himself. He knows there are fanfics. And he fucking likes that. If there is a rise of pierresteban fics on ao3 after Brazil 2024, he will be the first one to know let me tell you that much.

7. Lewis

Okay you might be wondering why this senior citizen is up here, and the answer is simple : he is too famous not to know. Like COME ON. He's been here since 2007 (which is longer than some people who'll see this post have been alive for— that's a scary thought for another day), he has been in famous and televised rivalry, and he has to live with the existence of the quote "everything but a lover" about nico and him.

There is no way he hasn't READ a fucking brocedes fanfic. If he is willing, I will teach him how to use ao3 so he can look-up some "fix-it" fics. He might use some inspiration, and who is better for that than tired college students writing about their sad ass in between lectures?

6. George

He seems like the type to lurk a lot around the internet, so the chances of him finding the link to a fic on the third page of google isn't impossible to me.

If you find any comment of someone correcting your spelling, you know who did it.

5. Pierre

He probably googles his name too often not to have stumbled upon a "Reader x Pierre Gasly" wattpad fanfic. sigh.

4. Alex

Alex, I know that you are the second most likely to have tumblr (right after george who actually has an account). The chances of you knowing what a "lemon" is is way too high for my liking.

3. Charles

The C in Charles stands for Chronically Online. My boy was known for liking tweets about himself, and we know that fans talk about fanfics on twitter. He clicked on a link of a lestappen or sebchal fanfic at least once out of curiosity let me tell you this much.

2. Lando

Too chronically online not to have read fanfics about himself. I just know he typed in "lando norris fanfiction" straight in google at least once. Jail.

1. Oscar

Here me out : his sister is a K-pop fan. If you believe that she never yapped about a fanfic she read to her brother, you are strongly unfamiliar with sibling relationships. But the chances of him not listening to her are also very high, so maybe he shouldn't be so high up my list. But oh well.

He is also good at hiding his game, but he is as online as Charles (you thought you were sneaky but we caught you clicking on that link of Max playing air-hocket dear Osc.)

For my own mental health though, I will assume he hasn't read about his own self yet.

[occamstfs]

What You Really Want

Milo mouths off about a man dating his long time crush before immediately learning the lesson that he should be less trusting of strange voices promising to fulfill his desires

Pretty standard straight to gay himbo/jockification! It will also be my final story for some time I believe, so I do hope you enjoy! -Occam

“It’s no fair that they literally have it all.” Like many a ‘nice guy’ Milo has spent an inordinate amount of time skulking social media and disparaging more physically gifted men as he stumbles across them. The root of his despair is not difficult to ascertain, his eyes burning with envy make quite clear the inner monologue of ‘girls always date assholes.’ He sneers as he comes across the most recent post of his friend and crush, Juliet. The jealous man of course knows next to nothing about the character of James, the jock-type now dating her, but judging by the gleaming smirk and the bulky arms of a killer hanging from his shoulders, the judgemental dweeb has more than enough evidence to speculate.

Delving into his memories, Milo’s face burns with embarrassment as he recalls mentioning his crush to Juliet, ‘Oh!’ her bright eyes shift uncomfortably and her cheeks begin to blush enough to match the pink tint she threw on this morning. Milo’s fist clenches as she almost giggles in her discomfort, ‘sorry Milo I guess- Well, I guess I just thought you were gay?’ After this Milo played it cool, he thinks. Hand scratching the back of his head as he asserts his straight identity and the two go on to have a meal far more quiet and awkward than usual. When new-boyfriend James comes to pick up Juliet, Milo forces a smile before staring daggers at his back as the pair walk away. 

This brings us to the present hate scrolling session in which Milo is more than absorbed. Lips curl into a sneer as he traces the impossible to ignore curves of this must-be dullard’s defined body. Milo scoffs as he sees the litany of women that must make up the man’s dating history. “Bet they won’t even last a week, ha! I mean judging by how much the douche spends in the gym I bet he’s just using her as a beard anyway.”

With this final rather homophobic assertion, the nerd’s phone flashes before going dark, “What the-” before he has to determine whatever caused this, he goes stiff as a strange voice resounds through his head. ‘Tired of all the big boys getting what they want, hmm?’ Immediately concerned he’s lost his mind, Milo gets to powering back on his phone to call for help. ‘Now now, Milo. Do not worry your little head. I am here to help. Would you not like the chance to be just like them?’ Just like them. Envy burns through his veins greater than anything. Sensing this immediately, whatever this voice is seizes upon his clearly fragile psyche, its laughter steely and alien, ‘Ah ha ha. I thought so.’

Dropping his phone once more, Milo tries to drill the voice, “Wh- what are you exactly. Are you a dem- hm, an angel?” The voice answers almost before he even finishes the thought, ‘It matters not what I am. All that matters are your desires. Now. Do you wish to be all you desire, all this James embodies? All that he is in your head.” Miles gulps and almost starts drooling at the idea, just like James. Women at his fingertips whenever he wants, a body sculpted by the gods while keeping a far better mind than that oaf could ever afford. With next to no hesitation or forethought, Milo nods and the world goes dark.

When he awakens the poorly mannered man finds it’s the next day. His phone rests in his hand and when opened he finds it zoomed in on a picture of James’ meaty bicep. Milo rolls his eyes and tosses his phone aside before going to stand. Making it halfway up he grunts in pain as he only then discovers morning wood more pressing and turgid than he’s ever encountered. Falling back down he clutches at the pain in his crotch from his cock being forcibly yanked by his underwear. Hands now grasping it he gasps as he finds it filling them far more than it has any right to. 

Well now, while they’re already down there he might as well have some fun right? After briefly struggling to get his waistband over his swollen package his mouth falls open in shock as he’s finally able to appraise the almost unrecognizable cock hanging from his crotch. It’s like none he’s seen before, not that he generally observes dicks of course. Far more impressive than he imagined a dick could be. His fingertips can scarcely meet his palm when he tries to grasp it, and as he begins rubbing it it feels leagues more sensitive than it has before now, as if nerve endings are multiplying. Looking to his awaiting phone he sees the photo of James and what’s her name as he begins masturbating outright.

Seeing a bulge in James’ strained pants he grunts as he returns to stare at his own suddenly substantial cock. More like him. The already thicker rod strains as he reflexively humps into his hand, forcing his grip wider as it expands to simply need more room. The new veins painting the length of his nascent ten inch dick surge higher up its length as he swears he can see them pulse and bulge with each racing heartbeat. Beneath his thrusting hands, bouncing as his hips continue to forcefully thrust with more strength than he has, his balls similarly grow heavier, larger as they send hormones flowing through him enough to metamorphosize and, more immediately, cause pre to stream and coat his fingers. 

Milo leans his head back as he is bursting with a need for release greater than he can understand. He shifts his jaw as it twinges with the pleasure of growth, widening and strengthening into one fit for titan. Below his newly defined chin, his neck thickens and moans grow deeper as an Adam's apple bulges out of his throat. Hearing his voice echo deeper throughout his bedroom, his heady pleasure comes to a head as he is struck with the bizarre urge to lick the pre off his fingers. Before he’s able to acquire or express shock and disgust, his eyes blast open and he is again staring at the image of James, more like- and he blows his load.

The moment of release may as well have shut him down once more, pleasure overloads him like a flashbang as every inch of his body feels at once. Drool drips from his plumper lips as his mind is fried and his hips continue to thrust without any input or awareness, sending stains across his wall and splattering into his darker hair as it begins to pull shorter and tint darker. Eyebrows thicken and cover more of his forehead as his brow hangs lower over his eyes staining brown and growing duller.

His whole form tenses as he finally achieves release, staring at the image of his, uh, competition. Arms flex as his hands crack wider, fingers stretch longer, skin grows rougher. For the first time in his life definition appears on his arms, biceps and triceps compete for which can increase faster, which can catch more eyes, which can rival those alluring arms of James. Beneath shoulders packing on weight are pits that darken with curls now thicker, a deeper brown nearing black as the forest strives to prevent any light from breaking the canopy. Similarly they moisten with the masculine heady musk that they are perfectly designed to disseminate, powerful enough to allure any twink towards his dick, or uh, huh.

Milo moans as this seemingly intrusive thought makes itself at home in his morphing psyche. Barely returning to sentience enough to realize the stray gay thought, he arches his back and stretches as if he were waking up. Mindlessly he wipes the cum staining his larger hands on the new dark treasure trail as it itches and slowly inches up from pubes unshaved. Feeling the hint of an Adonis belt he sits up with a shock, the feeling of something he has long envied bringing back his awareness.

Despite the obvious differences it takes far too long for him to be aware of, to truly notice what has become of him. He struggles to make sense of the effort it takes to move his new larger limbs. He grabs at his new hair and sucks drool through his teeth as he tries to understand how it’s changed texture and color so totally, did he dye it and forget or what? The gears in his mind slowly turn as his fingers move to scratch an itch under his arms, struggling through the dank jungle of curls. Thoughtlessly he brings his sweat-wet fingers to his nose and grimaces. “Fuck man, I smell like an, uh, like a, unnh-” he moans quietly as he’s unable to even finish the sentence, instead an image of James forces its way to the front of his mind and two now-malnourished brain cells spark together and strain to form a thought.

“Oh fuck I’m turning into a imbe-, an uh imbekle? Ugh, an uh- a dumb jock.” Milo bites his lips and flexes an arm to try and assuage his nerves, to get his attention focused on anything but his anxieties. Fortunately to this end, seeing his bulging biceps he feels his larger cock begin to stir. Some semblance of rationality knows ceding to his wanting package is probably what led to this encroaching fog over his mind. His skin begins to prickle as all-around it grows more sensitive. Beyond these skin deep sensations it also seems as if darker hairs are beginning to spread out wherever his follicles will allow.

Seeing hair beginning to prickle his chest and blanket his legs his mind produces images of hairy men he has leered at through the years. His neck twitches as whatever dregs of the pathetic skirtchaser he once was rise up and try to combat his new predilections. He’s straight, he’s always been straight. Right? His mouth goes dry as he tries to remember ever having dated a woman in the past. Barring that, only just able to recall that something is happening to him, only just able to remember that he is transforming into some alien self, Milo tries to produce an image of what he used to look like. And he cannot.

His mouth falls open as it often does whenever he struggles to produce a thought, making it almost his default state. Mouth-breathing mouth ajar he fully experiences the thick air of his bedroom as it fills with his new musk. The room around him begins to dissolve and reform into surroundings that reinforce who he is now, that prove this is who he has always been. Clean pressed laundry dirty and shift into unwashed gym clothes that help cloud the room with his stink. Posters of whatever movies and video games he enjoys corrupt into images celebrating the impressive male form, all distinctly stained from the years of hanging on Milo’s bedroom walls. He hears clanking outside of his bedroom as bookshelves collapse and reform into weights heavier than he would be able to lift.

Milo stumbles to his larger feet and ignores the hefty weight of his balls and cock bobbing in the air as he drags himself out of his bedroom to find a mirror. He leaves sweaty footprints larger than any shoes he owns on the tile of the bathroom as he bumbles in. Leaning over the sink his lips quiver as he sees a razor clogged with hair darker than he feels he should have. Sooner than the doubts arrive they vacate as a thick, stubbled beard rapidly bursts onto his face. Looking up he smirks as he sees a thick mustache surges over his upper lip, looking just like the ones he appreciates,  just like he has always been into. His eye twitches and he grunts as his hair retracts once more into something far more intentional and stylish. At the same time pecs suddenly bulge larger and hang lower as Milo leans heavier over the bathroom sink. 

His eyes glaze over as complex thoughts once more become too elusive in the face of his rising lusts. Muscles bulge larger as his back and legs creak, stretching him taller as thighs and shoulders widen and continue putting on mass. Feet spread like fins on the floor as his hands widen and sweatily slide on the ceramic sink. His mouth continues to water as he inspects all these increasingly masculine changes and his cock continues to throb. Milo bites his lip as new sensations arise from his cock once more, this time the change is apparent as his foreskin regrows, making his cock look even thicker as its head grows hooded and he struggles not to immediately break into masturbation at the powerful image of his own seductive form.

Milo’s barely functioning mind struggles to argue for any reason to not just return to the immeasurable delights of gratifying his all-encompassing urges. He stays his hands for a moment before the greatest horror yet rears its head. A monologue begins in his mind that is not his own, that cannot be his own. Dull laughter echoes through his increasingly vacant mind as a voice even slower and deeper than that which sounds from his new vocal chords, “Yooo broo come onnnnn. Give up, give in. This is what you wanted, ‘s what we wanted huhuhuh.”

He feels a pressure in his balls as they almost churn with the otherworldly need that seemingly always flows through him. He can’t help but imagine the men he’s going to bed with his new endowment, how many cocks he’s going to take in his new powerful ass. Drool trickles from his lips through the dense black stubble that coats his face denser with each second, with each breath. Spit continues down the length of his more defined face before dripping onto weighty, similarly furred pecs. His heavier hands slowly creep towards the hardening cock standing tall and long from the jungle of pubes. Before he’s able to assist his thrusting hips however, his lusty haze is interrupted by his phone chiming. His mind immediately thinks it must be James which fills him with conflicting emotions of rage and giddiness. “Ohh bro maybe he’s inviting us over. It’s been toooo long since we fucked huhuh-”

Milo pointedly tries to ignore his hairier, bulkier reflection as he stumbles out of the bathroom to check his phone. Unfortunately he catches a glimpse which makes it all the more difficult to ignore the throbbing weight dripping, almost pouring, pre onto the floor. Despite it all he stands strong, quieting this other voice as it urgently tries to convince him to give in before he’s able to pick up his phone. In a final act of resistance, or perhaps impotence, he has the lofty idea of calling for help before his mind goes completely blank and, seeing the notification, he instinctually goes to his messages to find who texted him. It’s Juliet! 

First his heart flutters before he’s absolutely confused at the sensation. She’s just his bestie? Weird. He shakes off whatever that was and gets on to reading the message, “heyy girlie- which of these do you want me to post? Oh ya and lmao, are you and james cool if I do the last one?” At the mention of James his pulse again races and there are butterflies in his stomach far more powerful than whatever bizarre feelings he had but moments ago. No time to dwell, Milo starts swiping through the images sent. They’re a photoset of their little group outing to a halloween party last week, the trio, Milo, James and Jules dressed up as a group, as X-men! Respectively dressed as Wolverine, Cyclops and Jean Grey.

He smirks as he starts chubbing up again thinking of how easily he was able to pass as the hairy beast. His eyes then return to see James’ bubble butt in trademark spandex, which only makes it harder to not lose control then and there, moaning as he imagines playing with that ass. Holding to whatever well of willpower remains within him Milo holds strong and keeps his hands above waist level. Finally he gets to the specific image Juliet mentioned, one of him and James messily making out on the dance floor. James yanks at the hairy Milo’s hair, visor half hanging off as Milo reciprocates by shoving his hand into James’ pants. Fuck that’s hot.

Without even touching his needy cock, without any pleading from the new voice in his head, without a single chance to hold back. Simply from seeing the steamy image of him and James, Milo’s mind is overrun with memories and desires of the new man he is. The man he ever was and always will be. And for the second time today, but not the last, he loses control. Cum splatters against his phone as his mind goes blank anew with rushing pleasure. Painting himself once more with his most-used utensil he laughs dumbly as he realizes how swiftly he just came. Almost with pathetic haste, though now he’s quite unfamiliar with any sense of shame. The voice that only just wormed its way into his head spills from his mouth as it fully and forevermore wrests control as the true Milo.

“Huhuhuh guess I should work on my hair trigger,” He grunts as he looks at his phone and texts back some variation of ‘girl that’s porn you can’t post that!!!’ he turns his mind where it goes more often than anywhere in his new life. He wonders what James is doing and immediately texts him. Waiting for a reply Milo heads off to the gym to get a pump in before presumably going to meet him, not worrying about cleaning up or covering his scent. The gym’s for smelling like a man right? He certainly wouldn’t mind if everyone else followed his lead huhuh. Milo bites his lip trying to ignore his hardening cock as he makes his way out of the apartment clad in too-tight, stained gym clothes. 

Before he even makes it out the complex he gets a text from James and promptly changes course. Immediately Milo’s racing down the street to his lover’s apartment. Cock already snaking down his shorts and creating a stain at its nadir, Milo hopes he can keep his needy cock at bay until he makes it. Thinking of the alternative work out he’s to enjoy in bed with James, Milo struggles to not moan obscenely as he waddles as quickly as he can into the lobby of James’ building. Heart racing with excitement he can’t wait to see James in person. Jittery with nerves, it feels like he’s going to meet the man for the first time. Hah! Milo promptly ignores the idea and starts to get some stretching in before their session. Trying to practice mindfulness with a mind thicker than mud he quickly finds himself possessed with memories of their countless times fucking in the past. Easy enough as the pair have been doing so for years. Still nerves assail him as his cock continues to strain his shorts. As the elevator doors click open he smirks as he was able to make it this far without blowing his third load of the day. His cock throbs with anticipation for its release soon to come, and impatiently awaits each and every similar session to follow.

[kaijutegu]

hey friends if you're looking for a way to limit social media consumption because your family makes you sad or you get into some real dark thoughts whenever you open twitter, here's something good you can do for yourself.

first, figure out what your muscle memory social media sites are. like for me, i usually pop open a twitter or facebook tab regardless of what i'm doing. i don't think about it, my fingers just kinda. go there, for checking on stuff. i use other social media sites but i have to think about going there, these are just my muscle memory social media sites. oh before i go further, this is for desktop/laptop, my advice for mobile is just uninstall the app versions of your muscle memory social media sites are.

then, download LeechBlock. there's other blockers too but like, that's the one I use bc I enjoy its functionality.

throw your muscle memory sites into the blocker. one of the things I like so much about LeechBlock is that you can give it blocks of time that you can access the site. if you have people you're checking on, if you want to get news from wherever, that's ok, but genuinely, do not give yourself unfettered access to the worst of what humanity has to offer. because that's what a lot of these muscle memory social media platforms are. because that's what a lot of social media has become. (not you tungl.hell, you're special.)

anyways here's what i set up. i noticed that it's facebook and twitter being my scylla and charbydis of doomscrolling, so i just created a custom filter to block them and just set my time limit to forever.

and if you NEED access to these sites you can set up times where you can block them more specifically, but for me, accessing them in my main browser is... a bad idea.

see, the whole point of this is to wean me off of the muscle memory. i'm use to pressing f+enter and facebook comes up. now when i want to access fb, it's a pain in the ass. that minor inertia keeps me away from it, and i can still easily access it in my work browser when i need it for herp society stuff. but that tiny barrier to entry makes a huge difference.

another thing you can do is log out of these sites each time you leave and have it not remember your login and so that makes logging in an intentional choice each time, which is often a disincentive or at least promotes spending more time deciding to be there. but that's more work than my lazy set it and forget it method.

the truth is that these sites are not likely to help you unless you're doing something specific and can avoid most of your feed. even if you have lots of good friends and community, you can't opt out of the terrible algo posts, and they are going to serve up polarizing content and right now, you probably don't need that. or if you do, you need it in a more mindful context, you need to not be sort of... drifting to your social platforms. i'm not saying don't engage at all, i'm saying be smart and thoughtful about it. as always, you are responsible for curating your own internet experience, and this includes after a real bad election. this is a tool you can use to protect yourself and stop doomscrolling before it starts.

[somewhere-south-of-neutral]

Senior year of high school, a classmate and I both received the STAR award, which is given to the student or students who get the highest SAT scores in their graduating class each year. The award ceremony was held at the clubhouse of an old wealthy social club, the kind that, in Atlanta at least, probably doesn't want you digging into its past. I am Jewish, and the other recipient from my school was Black. Most of the honorees, students from high schools all over the city, were members of one minority or another. A large number (though I don't remember if it was more, less, or equal to half) were also women. I remember thinking that there was a good chance that almost none of us would have been allowed into that room before the 1980s. And then I remember thinking, as one student after another who didn't fit the white, Christian, male mold these clubs were built to cater to went on stage to accept their award, that our presence in that room was a victory in more ways than one.

I have been to Masada, from which you can still see the outlines of the Roman warcamps that besieged a doomed band of Jewish rebels and where, nearly two thousand years later, an Orthodox rabbi tearfully looked up from the ruin he was investigating to inform the watching archaeologists that the ancient mikveh they had found, the oldest we know of, was kosher.

I have stood in the ruined Jewish quarters in Lisbon and Madrid, where there are very few Jews anymore. But I was there, and I did not need to hide. I have been to the former headquarters of the Spanish Inquisition, where, in buildings made of bricks hewn from the graves of my forebears, they orchestrated my nonexistence. But I was there, and I existed, and the inquisition did not.

I have been to Savannah, GA, where the descendants of those who fled the inquisition founded a synagogue. The Inquisition headquarters were in ruin, but that synagogue still stands strong, and people still pray there. It is beautiful.

I have been to Berlin, where less than a century ago a plot to ensure that I could never exist, along with the descendants of many other minorities, was hatched and came frighteningly close to succeeding. But I was there, and I walked the streets visibly Jewish, made so not by a badge of shame but by my kippah, which I wore, and still wear, proudly wherever I go.

I have been to Prague, where centuries ago, according to myth, the rabbis created the golem, a magical protector built out of necessity to shield the community from harm. The golem is not there, but the community still stands. The Great Synagogue is one of the most beautiful and ornate buildings I have ever been to.

In every generation they have tried to destroy us, but we are still here and they are not. These next four years, and likely many after, will be hard. They will be steered by those who want us dead, and when I say us I mean all of us, any who do not fit their very narrow mold, but we will survive. And, one day, our (literal or figurative) descendants will stand in the places where they plotted to destroy us, and they will be free, and they will work to undo the damage, and their presence in those places will be a victory in more ways than one.

Good luck. Stay safe. We will get through this together. I love you.

[pluckyredhead]

Hey, I don’t blame you if you don’t want to respond right now, but I just wanted to acknowledge that you were completely right to insist that people should have voted for the Democratic candidate if they didn’t want Trump, regardless of if they completely agreed with the Democratic candidate or not. We wouldn’t be in this situation if more people thought like you. And I hope more of the “both sides are just as bad” people remember this for next time.

I appreciate the thought, and you're right that we need every vote, every time, all the time.

But that's not what swung this election. There was a big shift to the right among men, particularly low information voters. And exit polls show that the economy was the biggest driver of those votes. It was not the very small number of extremely online leftists who abstained from voting or voted third party who caused this. It was people who absorb Fox News uncritically and/or fail to understand that Trump was terrible for the economy and will be terrible again, that Biden pulled us out of a recession, that prices are high because of greedflation and not inflation.

And, you know, fascists. But mostly people who are so under-informed and actively dis-informed that they think Trump deporting thousands of people will magically make gas cheaper.

I don't know how to reach those people. Our media landscape is so fractured that they are literally living in a different reality than I am, where the things I see as so obvious and self-evident don't exist to them, or exist only as lies. A second Trump presidency with its inevitable rolling back of regulations about social media disinformation and equally inevitable threats to honest journalism is only going to make it harder.

But here's what I know:

We're going to remember to eat, and drink water, and sleep. We are going to hold our loved ones close.

Lock down your birth control. Get your vaccines. Know where your important paperwork is.

Read On Tyranny by Timothy Snyder. Read Hope in the Dark by Rebecca Solnit.

Check for misinformation and disinformation before you share something.

Posting online is not activism. Fighting online is not activism. Share resources, yes. Otherwise, block and move on, because...

Infighting didn't save us this time, and it will never save us. We are going to have to build coalitions. I'm going to get involved in my local progressive politics. I urge everyone who can to do the same. You are going to meet people who are not exactly like you, who disagree with you, who you don't like. If they believe in democracy and equal rights and justice for everyone? Then they are your allies in this fight and you need every single one of them.

America has never lived up to her ideals, but I still believe in them: that we are all created equal. If we never get there, it will still always be a fight worth fighting.

So let's fight.

[alessandriana]

10 ways to be prepared and grounded now that Trump has won

The key to taking effective action in a Trump world is to avoid perpetuating the autocrat’s goals of fear, isolation, exhaustion and disorientation.

It’s important we squarely face Trump’s victory and what there is to do about it.

Trump has already signaled the kind of president he will be: revengeful, uncontrolled and unburdened by past norms and current laws. I won’t go through the litany of awful things he’s pledged to do, since that’s been well-established with his words, Project 2025 plans and excellent analyses from authoritarian experts.

Looking into an even more destabilized future is not easy. If you’re like me, you’re already tired. The prospect of more drama is daunting. But authoritarianism isn’t going away no matter the election results. So here’s some thinking about ways to orient so we can ground ourselves better for these times ahead.

I am blessed to have spent time writing scenarios about what might happen, developing trainings for a Trump win and working alongside colleagues living under autocratic regimes. One of the things they keep reminding me is that good psychology is good social change. Authoritarian power is derived from fear of repression, isolation from each other and exhaustion at the utter chaos. We’re already feeling it.

Thus, for us to be of any use in a Trump world, we have to pay grave attention to our inner states, so we don’t perpetuate the autocrat’s goals of fear, isolation, exhaustion or constant disorientation.

1. Trust yourself

I started writing this list with strategic principles (e.g. analyze your opponents weakness and learn to handle political violence), but actually the place to start is with your own self.

Trump is arriving at a time of great social distrust. Across the board, society has reduced trust in traditional institutions. Yes, there’s more distrust of the media, medical professionals, experts and politicians. But it extends beyond that. There’s reduced trust in most community institutions and membership groups. Whether from COVID or political polarization, a lot of us have experienced reduced trust in friends and family. Even our trust in predictable weather is diminished.

Distrust fuels the flame of autocracy because it makes it much easier to divide. We can see that in the casual nature of Trump’s rhetoric — telling people to distrust immigrants, Democrats, socialists, people from Chicago, women marchers, Mexicans, the press and so on.

This is a social disease: You know who to trust by who they tell you to distrust.

Trust-building starts with your own self. It includes trusting your own eyes and gut, as well as building protection from the ways the crazy-making can become internalized.

This also means being trustworthy — not just with information, but with emotions. That way you can acknowledge what you know and admit the parts that are uncertain fears nagging at you.

Then take steps to follow through on what you need. If you’re tired, take some rest. If you’re scared, make some peace with your fears. I can point you to resources that support that — like FindingSteadyGround.com — but the value here is to start with trusting your own inner voice. If you need to stop checking your phone compulsively, do it. If you don’t want to read this article now and instead take a good walk, do it.

Trust all these things inside of you because trust in self is part of the foundation of a healthy movement life.

2. Find others who you trust

I promise I’ll head towards practical resistance strategies. But the emotional landscape matters a great deal. Hannah Arendt’s “The Origins of Totalitarianism” explored how destructive ideologies like fascism and autocracy grow. She used the word verlassenheit — often translated as loneliness — as a central ingredient. As she meant it, loneliness isn’t a feeling but a kind of social isolation of the mind. Your thinking becomes closed off to the world and a sense of being abandoned to each other.

She’s identifying a societal breakdown that we’re all experiencing. Under a Trump presidency, this trend will continue to accelerate. The constant attacks on social systems — teachers, health care and infrastructure — make us turn away from leaning on each other and towards ideologically simple answers that increase isolation (e.g. “distrust government,” “MAGA is nuts,” “anyone who votes that way doesn’t care about you”).

In extreme cases, like Chile in the 1970s and ‘80s, the dictatorship aimed to keep people in such tiny nodes of trust that everyone was an island unto themselves. At social gatherings and parties, people would commonly not introduce each other by name out of fear of being too involved. Fear breeds distance.

We have to consciously break that distance. In Chile they organized under the guise of affinity groups. This was, as its name suggests, people who shared some connections and trust. Finding just a few people who you trust to regularly act with and touch base with is central.

Following Trump’s win: Get some people to regularly touch base with. Use that trust to explore your own thinking and support each other to stay sharp and grounded.

For the last several months I’ve been hosting a regular group at my house to “explore what is up with these times.” Our crew thinks differently but invests in trust. We emote, cry, sing, laugh, sit in stillness and think together.

I’ve written an agenda for such gatherings right after a Trump win that you can use.

All of us will benefit from actively organized nodes to help stabilize us. In a destabilized society, you need people who help ground you.

3. Grieve

No matter what we try to do, there’s going to be a lot of loss. The human thing to do is grieve. (Well, apparently humans are also very good at compartmentalizing, rationalizing, intellectualizing and ignoring — but the damage it does to our body and psyche is pretty well documented.)

If you aren’t a feelings person, let me say it this way: The inability to grieve is a strategic error. After Donald Trump won in 2016, we all saw colleagues who never grieved. They didn’t look into their feelings and the future — and as a result they remained in shock. For years they kept saying, “I can’t believe he’s doing that…”

An alternative: Start by naming and allowing feelings that come to arise. The night that Donald Trump won, I stayed up until 4 a.m. with a colleague. It was a tear-filled night of naming things that we had just lost. The list ranged from the political to the deeply personal:

“Trump will leave the Paris Climate Agreement and that means much of the world will soft pedal its climate plans.”

“Ugh, I’m gonna have this man in my dreams. We’re all going to sleep less and wake up to bat-shit crazy headlines each morning.”

“Trump’s gonna constantly attack immigrants — the wall may or may not happen, but he’s gonna raise the threshold for racism. I don’t think I can take it.”

“Friends I know who signed up for DACA are never going to trust government again.”

And on and on. It wasn’t only a list, but it was finding the impact inside of us of sadness, anger, numbness, shock, confusion and fear. We alternated between rageful spouts and tears. We grieved. We cried. We held each other. We breathed. We dove back into naming all the bad things we knew we’d lost and things we thought we’d be likely to lose.

It wasn’t anywhere near strategizing or list-making or planning. It was part of our acceptance that losing a presidency to an awful man means you and your people lose a lot. Ultimately, this helped us believe it — so we didn’t spend years in a daze: “I can’t believe this is happening in this country.”

Believe it. Believe it now. Grief is a pathway to that acceptance.

4. Release that which you cannot change

Growing up my mom had a copy of the Serenity Prayer: “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.” Notably, that prayer comes from theologian Reinhold Niebuhr as he was watching the rise of Nazis in Germany.

Trump’s first day likely includes pardoning Jan. 6 insurrectionists, reallocating money to build the wall, pulling out of the Paris Climate Agreement, and firing 50,000-plus government workers to begin replacing them with loyalists. There’s little reason to believe that day two will get much quieter.

Under a Trump presidency, there are going to be so many issues that it will be hard to accept that we cannot do it all. I’m reminded of a colleague in Turkey who told me, “There’s always something bad happening every day. If we had to react to every bad thing, we’d never have time to eat.”

An elder once saw me trying to do everything and pulled me aside. “That’s not a healthy lifelong strategy,” she said. She’d been raised in Germany by the generation of Holocaust survivors who told her, “Never again.” She took it personally, as if she had to stop every wrong. It wracked her and contributed to several serious ongoing medical conditions. We can accept our humanity or suffer that lack of acceptance.

Chaos is a friend of the autocrat. One way we can unwittingly assist is by joining in the story that we have to do it all.

Over the last few months I’ve been testing out a terribly challenging tool. It’s a journaling exercise that invites you to reflect on which issues you’ll spend energy on. It asks: what are issues you’ll throw down on, do a lot for, a little for, or — despite caring about it — do nothing at all for? That last question can feel like a kind of torture for many activists, even while we’re intellectually aware that we cannot stop it all.

Unaddressed, this desire to act on everything leads to bad strategy. Nine months ago when we gathered activists to scenario plan together, we took note of two knee-jerk tendencies from the left that ended up largely being dead-ends in the face of Trump:

Public angsting — posting outrage on social media, talking with friends, sharing awful news

Symbolic actions — organizing marches and public statements

The first is where we look around at bad things happening and make sure other people know about them, too. We satisfy the social pressure of our friends who want us to show outrage — but the driving moves are only reactive. The end result wasn’t the intended action or an informed population. It’s demoralizing us. It’s hurting our capacity for action. Public angsting as a strategy is akin to pleading with the hole in the boat to stop us from sinking.

Symbolic actions may fare little better under a Trump presidency. In whatever version of democracy we had, the logic of rallies and statements of outrage was to build a unified front that showed the opposition many voices were opposed to them. But under an unleashed fascist — if it’s all you do — it’s like begging the suicidal captain to plug the hole.

Let me be clear. These strategies will be part of the mix. We’ll need public angsting and symbolic actions. But if you see an organization or group who only relies on these tactics, look elsewhere. There are other, more effective ways to engage.

Grieve AND organize.

Good article by David Hunter on how to survive the Trump presidency, both on the personal and on the political plane.

[bellanothadidloa]

As I initially stated in my success story, I don't plan on being very active here because I've spent too much time on social media. However, I want to answer some common questions to help you guys achieve your dreams before winter or to provide some motivation.

Do you have new method you recommend

Yes, I found this on a blogger's page. I've been experimenting for fun with different techniques. One method involves using theta waves and counting from 100 to 300 until you feel drowsy, then affirming for the void.

Alternatively, you can use the five senses method that shifters often use, which I find works the best!

And, lucid dreaming is an incredible experience. To enhance your dreams, try spraying magnesium oil on your feet. This will lead to some of the most vivid dreams of your life.

Also, research neuroplasticity—it's a fact that with enough repetition, affirmations can rewire your brain. Neuroplasticity is the brain's ability to reorganize itself by forming new neural connections throughout life.

Are you into shifting and other explorations

Yes, at first, I manifested shifting abilities just for fun, but I didn't have anywhere I particularly wanted to go because I was so content with my life—and I still am. I love my life! However, anytime you're curious about something, bored, or want to see how a different decision would turn out, you can just shift. It's amazing to feel this limitless, and I wish this experience for everyone!

I've also tried astral projection, but it doesn't do much for me since I can just shift anywhere I want or even travel there if I want to see something in person. It's all quite fascinating!

What is your life like now

I live in Monaco, but I'm considering international schools like Le Rosey or Phillip Phillips Exeter in Massachusetts. I've manifested that when I graduate in 2025, I'll get into an American Ivy League school.

I have an amazing social life, travel often, and attend prestigious events I could only dream of (I follow the billionaires calendar) I experience pretty privilege, and I have a good dating life and don't relate to the "I hate men" sentiment. I mean, the ones on social media can be gross, but they don't meet or see me in real life.which is insane. I get good grades easily and am generally loved and admired by everyone. It's so weird going from being ignored to being loved by everyone. My home life is great; my parents are the best people, and my siblings and I get along well. My home is the hangout spot for my friends which is fun, and I still cater to myself. I listen to subliminals and do journaling, which genuinely makes me happy. I'm open about my spirituality on my social media page, hehe! I've also become a Pilates enthusiast, even though I don't need to work out. I enjoy participating in rich hobbies like Pilates, golf, horseback riding, tennis, skiing, and, of course, traveling!

All in all, my life is amazing, and every day I'm kind of scared I'll wake up from this spell. It's crazy that this is just my permanent life!

Comment more questions I have a layover which nothing to do and I’ll add more to the post as I see them :)

[mayomio]

‎ “ porque te sigo queriendo? ya no puedo más ”

‎ ‎‎under the weather ;; kinich x fem!reader * social media au

synopsis she’d describe him as the most genuine soul she had ever come across in her entirety of walking earth, how she craved to be cuddled into his arms just to feel that warmth she once felt, even if it was just for a few seconds. that constant sick feeling of being without the person that completes you was like a disease to her, and she only wanted to get rid of it, but if it was only that easy. 

genre modern/college au, social media au, angst, crack-ish, fluff but not rlly like until the end or halfway, lovers to exes to lovers again, right person right time but uhmm . . .

warnings english is not my first language, I use (name) instead of y/n I just prefer it more, there will be some spanish used in the chapters (it will be translated dw), kinich is mexican!! (and implied hispanic/mexican reader but anyone is welcome to read it), writing from a beginner, heavy cursing, kys/kms used as a joke, sexual content (smut mayb..idk most likely not but just in case 😭) < by a minor btw..

status not started yet

tag list currently open (click here to be added)

‎‎‎‎ ‎‎" shes under the weather, or whatever " || profiles (2)

mayo enjoyers — (name), xilonen, heizou, lumine, hu tao, kokomi

hw hq — kinich, mualani, xilonen, chasca, citlali, aether

‎ ❀ for chapters with written fic

o. prologue (❀)

i. tba

ii. tba

iii. tba

TAGLIST @keiiqq

[rinachains]

this is a life

wc: 4.7k

contents: no curses au; geto x fem!reader; angst, fluff; brief mention of diets, implied child abuse; mental illness, smoking, alcohol consumption; reader is in an established relationship with someone else, geto is an elementary school teacher; he's lowkey giving reader a therapy session here; very loosely inspired by *that* scene from fleabag

a/n: this turned out way longer than i originally planned, lol. comments and reblogs are very much appreciated! divider credits: @/saradika

“And guess what happened after that?”

The woman across from you leans against the table, all eyes on her, waiting for a big reveal.

“She thought he was her friend’s father and not her boyfriend!”

Laughter erupts, a song of shrieks and booming echoes, and in the midst of it all, you sit with your mouth shut, wondering if their reaction is a product of consumed alcohol or an inside joke you weren't allowed in on.

Your boyfriend puts his hand on your knee – nearly slaps it – as his body shakes from laughing, swiftly glancing towards you.

You meet him with a strained smile.

“We’re talking about an old classmate,” he explains to you between labored breaths after he calms down.

“Ah, really?”, you say, dryly. Your voice is distant, lacking the interest he was hoping you’d respond with.

The red wine you’re sipping – an expensive one that your boyfriend specifically bought for this occasion – leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, and you believe it might etch your tongue away. You don’t like red wine, or any alcohol in general – you drink it more out of obligation than out of true enjoyment. It always leaves you with a wave of nausea the next day, no matter how much or how little you consume. There was at least the hope that the alcohol would loosen the tension in your body, make you open up; however, to your luck, it appears to have the opposite effect.

You’ve never been more aware of your body and your surroundings before; the clatter of dishes and the breaths you take through your nose ring in your ears.

There are only five people at this table; your boyfriend and his three friends from his old university days. And you.

You’re already familiar with two of them, but the third one, the other man sitting to your right – Suguru Geto – is someone you’ve just met for the first time tonight.

(‘By the way, another friend of mine will join us tonight,’ your boyfriend told you this morning as you got ready for work

You held back a tired sigh.

‘Another friend from university?’

‘Yep. Suguru Geto is his name. Cool guy, pretty close friend, we used to hang out a lot. He recently just started working as an elementary school teacher. Good for him, I guess,’ he explained as he buttoned up his shirt.

You didn’t miss how his tone dripped with the slightest bit of condescension when he said that last part.)

“By the way, my cousin dropped his new major,” his other friend says between bites, as he chews messy.

The noise makes your skin crawl.

"Again? Didn't he say this major was going to be 'the one'?" your boyfriend scoffs. 

"Yeah, some people just don't have a plan in life, it's kind of pathetic. Right?"

For some reason, his friend decides to look at you for confirmation. You don't respond, and your boyfriend puts his hand over yours before things get uncomfortable.

"Excuse her, she's just a bit shy."  

He laughs, again. The other two join in. Geto doesn't.

I'm not, you want to say. Your boyfriend always says that you're shy, but you're just quiet, more reserved, and he just keeps mistaking your reserved nature for shyness. You hate it; you feel the need to defend yourself, but you'd feel like a child, annoyed by your parent and overreacting.

However, he does talk about you as if you were his child or his pet, reluctant to interact with other people, still learning what it means to socialize properly, and he guides you on your shaky legs.

It’s no big deal, the voice in the back of your head whispers, you should be more grateful.

Yet you’re dealing with a clash of gratitude and buried guilt; guilt for that hidden monster of resentment that lurks somewhere deep inside of you, underneath the muscle tissue and ribs, waiting for the perfect moment to burst forth, tear through your body and cause terror.

It’s easier to blame this feeling on your inferiority complex - after all, you are your own worst enemy.

Your boyfriend leans in from his seat next to you, his lips brushing your ear as he mutters, “Let’s relax, okay? Tonight’s going pretty good so far.”

“Right,” you mouth back. Your voice not strong enough to vocalize that singular word. You try to muster an enthusiastic smile, you really do, but the corners of your mouth seem stuck, unwilling to rise any higher. They ache, and your cheeks begin to cramp. Your boyfriend gives you a sloppy kiss on the cheek – seemingly pleased with your response - before resuming his conversation about the past.

(they do a lot of talking about the past while you try to remove its bonds from your hands and feet.)

As your boyfriend turns away from you, you sense a tingling sensation, burning into the side of your face. Discreetly, you try to peer out of the corner of your right eye, only to be met with a piercing stare from Geto. You freeze, like a deer caught in the headlight, even though he’s the one who’s been caught. He leans further back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, not breaking eye contact. You avert your gaze after what feels like minutes.

A feeling of awkwardness rushes through your body as you take another sip of your drink.

What’s his problem? Did he hear what your boyfriend whispered to you?

Ignore it, the voice says again. So you do. Or at least you attempt to.

Despite your aversion to alcohol, your glass empties quickly, so you have a second, and before you know it, you're on your third.

The others continue to discuss their jobs, finances, families, future plans, politics - this is what normal, functioning people must talk about, you muse as you swallow a big gulp.

Once a layer of fog has settled over your vision, you realize the effect everything has on your body - it's as if you're not quite here.

You're in your apartment, the place where you live, at the table where you eat every day, and yet somehow you feel as if the place you're sitting in is reserved for someone else. An intruder - maybe that's what you are for tonight.

(but is it really just for tonight?)

You sit there, taking in the spectacle around you, until the image in front of you begins to swim, a blur of colors and shapes; now you're a background character, nameless and following the instructions of the script, watching the main characters interact - with their lively attitudes, ambitions and achievements, and overly complicated problems - while you do as little as possible. Your only purpose is to emphasize how important and memorable they are. Easily replaceable. Not worth paying attention to, not worth remembering; what a cruel role.

Then, with a painful blink, you're back in reality. But you realize that it wasn't some oddly vivid dream and that you weren't actually transported to another reality - you were here, at this table, in this seat, all along.

"Yes, I'm currently following this diet and workout plan," one of your boyfriend’s friends announces with an exaggerated sigh, and she quickly turns to you, giving you a half nod, "if you want, I can give you some details about it."

The look you give her is blank. Your raised glass lingers against your lips as you are about to take a sip.

Before you have a chance to answer this time, she turns back to the others and babbles on about some other topic.

You put the half-filled glass back on the table, your thirst now gone.  

"Ahh, I really don’t know how you can stand being around children every day, Suguru. I almost lost my mind watching my niece for only three hours!", she practically whines as she addresses the man next to you.

Geto answers with a chuckle, though it sounds strangely empty, as if something is missing.

"I also deal with a lot of adults, you know, other teachers and parents. And I can say that there isn't much difference between them,” he replies, “At least children don't know any better yet. Adults, however, choose not to do anything about their lack of…competence."

Again, a repeated round of laughter. Geto wears a mere placid smile.

"You’re not wrong, you’re not wrong. God, some of our clients are so incompetent, I sometimes wonder how they’ve made it this far in life.”

In the last two hours, you’ve learned: Geto isn’t particularly talkative, at least compared to the others.

However, he seems fine with it, sipping his drink unhurriedly and responding smoothly when spoken to. He exudes a confidence and carries a casual demeanor that a small part of you can't help but envy, for how often do you wish you weren't the way you are?

So you just sit there, lost in your own thoughts, accepting defeat for the situation you're stuck in.

“Have you heard about–“

Another clink.

“No way, that’s actually sad–“

Another loud chew.

“Guess who decided to contact-“

Another giggle.

At this point, the conversations have turned into a hectic game of tennis, the ball going back and forth between them, and you’re trying to follow it, maybe even graze it with your fingertips, but you can’t seem to catch it, it’s too fast, too-

"So, what do you do?"

You blink. Once, and then twice.

You turn your head to the right; Geto’s eyes are focused on you.

They're purple, a deep, gem-like shade, you note. You’ve never seen eyes like his before.  

His brows raise slightly and you realize that he’s expecting an answer.

"I…I work in a library. And I write. Or, well, at least I'm currently trying to."

A grin tugs at his lips; saccharine and foxy. For a moment, you fear he might eat you alive.

You’re not even aware that the other three have halted their conversation and are now paying attention to you and Geto.

"Oh? What are you planning to write? If you don't mind me asking."

You don't.

"Just a bunch of short stories," you answer with a shrug as you pick at the skin around your nails, "A big story is kind of intimidating, to be honest. I want to start small, it’s easier that way and I don’t have to put all my focus on one idea..."

Your voice loses its volume towards the end - a force of habit. Geto tilts his head and you believe to see a small frown appear for a second before it vanishes quickly. Replaced by his thin smile.

He shifts his body towards you, cheek resting against his fist. A flutter of his long lashes.

"You know, I once considered writing a book too.”

One of your brows lifts in wonder, "Really?"

“Hmh. A children’s book – for my students.”

“Are you still considering it?”

“I haven’t had the time for that yet, so I haven’t really done something for it.”

“Maybe you should have a mental breakdown too. ‘Gives you enough time to get real creative.”

Of course, right in this moment, your tongue decides to get loose. Surprise flashes across Geto’s features, clearly caught off guard, and you hear your boyfriend inhale sharply. You don’t even have to face the other two to know that they exchange looks.

What you said is wrong. It's always either right or wrong, right or wrong, and your teeth grit together, because why can't you just simply say things without them being right or wrong?

Suddenly, a low, muffled chortle reaches your ears. It grows louder, bordering on a genuine laugh, and you stare silently at the man next to you, the source of the sound.

Geto’s eyes form into crescent moons, and you become a shooting star, seen by chance, admired for the special moment you provide.

“I think I’ll pass. But many famous writers did create their works during hard times.”

You scratch along your neck, unsure of what to do with your fidgeting hands.

He continues, "Maybe we should switch roles for a day - I'll try writing and you can try teaching my class."

"Ah, I could never be a teacher, I'm not patient enough, I'm afraid," you say sheepishly, the tension in your face softening.

"I admit it's not always easy, but it's worth it to see the result of your patience. Besides, I had some practice before I started my job."

Your mouth opens, ready to ask another question, but then your boyfriend places an arm around your shoulder and squeezes it hard, as if he’s warning you. You have to stifle a yelp, his fingers digging a little too deeply into your skin.

“Maybe you should go easy on the wine, huh, babe?”

The thought of shaking his hand off flashes through your mind, but your body doesn't listen. Instead, you allow his grip to remain until he withdraws of his own accord.

His face screams jealousy – and maybe he is jealous, but he probably just wants everyone, including himself, to think he’s a protective and possessive boyfriend. He doesn’t have enough care in him for that.  

You used to believe that he did. Or at least you told yourself that – because he was the one who has pulled you out of the deep hole you were stuck in.  

He was the one who shook you awake and made you stare at yourself from a third-person perspective - and all that ran through your head was the word 'pathetic'.

Almost two years ago, you dropped out of university. You were at your lowest point, your mental health non-existent, and you had nothing and no one. And out of the blue, he showed up - with his sweet words and boyish charm. You had never received attention before, and suddenly there was someone, this handsome man, showering you with it.

He embodies the definition of ‘normal’, an average man - not someone with a dark past, a tortured artist, or a menace to society. He oozes the stability you needed during that time.

But you couldn't do anything about the doubts you had from the beginning of your relationship, because why would a man like him be with someone, a nobody, like you?

Sometimes he'd give you disappointed looks when you did something you usually did instead of what he thought was better. Sometimes being with him made you even more aware of what was wrong with you. Sometimes the normalcy you so desperately seek makes you feel like an abnormality.

You couldn't help but see him as your savior, someone who has achieved something so painfully average that you could only dream of. And he gives you that normalcy - at least you're on your way to it. However, the path seems endless, littered with ditches and spikes and numerous other obstacles that make you reluctant to continue.

Perhaps he thought of you as a fruit, not yet ripe, attracted by the potential sweetness, able to satisfy a certain hunger. But every fruit eventually begins to rot, no longer edible, and quickly discarded.

‘I don't deserve this,’ you told him once as you packed your things to move into your new shared apartment.

(one he'd picked out, claiming it was perfect for both of you).

Your confession tasted like honey in his mouth. He just gave you a little grin, nothing too big, so as not to show how his pride was swelling in his chest.

He didn't disagree with you.

After a few minutes, you feel a familiar itch in your hand. You start to get up, your boyfriend gives you a questioning look and you nod towards the balcony. He eyes you with disapproval, but you grab your jacket before you can change your mind and comply.

Every time you smoke in his presence, his nose wrinkles in disgust and words of complaint come out of his mouth. You’d take it more seriously if he didn't smoke himself.

Once outside, you put on your jacket and sit down in front of the steel bars of your balcony, next to some empty flower pots.

You haven't done anything, but you're exhausted.

The cool breeze on your face reminds you of drinking a cold glass of water after waking up in the middle of the night. The pain in your head is simmering.

The nicotine intensifies the bitterness in your dry mouth as you pull out a cigarette and take a long, long drag. A light, pleasant burn that awakens your senses in a non-overwhelming way, sobering you up a bit. Your shoulders slump, a pleasant shiver runs through your body. You needed this.

The sound of the balcony door opening makes you jump, the cigarette between your fingers almost falling down. You turn your head over your shoulder, expecting to see your boyfriend, preparing yourself for a scolding; but it's Geto. You can't tell if the emotion boiling in your chest is disappointment or relief - at this point, they've merged.

“I hope you don’t mind the company.”

You shake your head. Not too eagerly, you remind yourself.

One corner of his mouth lifts up, his gaze sweeping discreetly over you without you taking note of it, and he places himself on the other end.

There’s a good distance – intentionally - between the two of you, neither of you daring to cross it. A wall, set in stone, and the temptation of climbing it to peer over the edge lingers in the back of your head.

“Are you enjoying dinner?”, you ask him, scratching your cheek with your nail. You suppose that’s what a good host does.

Something you can’t quite identify glints in his eyes, and you can tell that he’s suppressing a chuckle. You feel the tips of your ears warming.

“I am. It’s more entertaining than I expected.”

You raise your brow at his answer.

"Hmh?" you see him pulling out a lighter and gesture to your pack of cigarettes, "Oh, you want one too?"

Geto dismissively waves his hand and takes his own pack out of the pockets of his black coat, "No need, I have my own.”

The way he lights the cigarette and brings it up to his lips paints a graceful picture, a fluid sequence of quick, minimal movements, and you can’t bring yourself to avert your stare.

He's handsome, you think. A unique but pleasant kind of beauty, a mixture of feminine and masculine features. This thought came to you the first time he appeared in your vision; you could admit it, but you don't allow your thoughts to go any further. You can't tell if it's out of compulsion or out of respect for your partner.

As he blows out the smoke, he says, "To get back to what I said: I wasn't sure what to expect tonight. The thing is, I'm not, or wasn't, that close to your boyfriend, so I was surprised when he invited me... I guess some people just have different perceptions.”

“He claimed you’re his friend,” you retort, confusion laced in your voice.

“Then he must have a lot of them, if that’s all it takes.”

You press your lips together, swallowing the grin that threatens to break across your face.

Geto clears his throat, "I was surprised to meet you, though.”

You cock your head to the side, "What do you mean?"

The expression he carries is a strange combination of hesitation and determination, "He didn’t mention you when he invited me."

Oh. Right.

"He hasn't?"

The answer is written on his face, you don’t need another verbal confirmation. 

Your back straightens, your shoulder rolls back as you exhale heavily.

"I mean, why would he? It's not something he has to say."

You don't know why you're defending him. Maybe it's because you want to defend yourself, too.

"I just find it interesting that he didn't tell me about you when he invited me. I mean, if I invited someone to my house for dinner, I would definitely mention my partner. But maybe we have different views on that.”

Your headache begins to return.

“I wanted to ask you something,” you say instead of lingering on the subject, trying to distract from it, eyes flickering between his face and the balcony railing, “back there. You mentioned something about already having practice before becoming a teacher.”

At that, his face brightens subtly, something you’re able to catch in the dim lighting. He sits up and brushes a silky strand of hair from his face.

“I did. I adopted two daughters before I started working there – Mimiko and Nanako are their names.”  

“Those are pretty names,” you say, hiding your surprise at the fact that he’s an adoptive father – seems like your boyfriend truly isn’t that close to him, “not that there’s anything wrong with it, but why did you decide to adopt them?"

"I interned at an elementary school before I knew what I wanted to do. It was fun, exhausting, but I learned a lot. But it was there that I noticed something wasn't quite right," Geto tells, a frown beginning to appear, "there were these girls - well, they're my little girls now. Mimiko and Nanako were quiet, well-behaved, but too docile for my taste. I found it strange, and when I asked around, the other teachers just told me to be happy about it, that it's a good thing. But then I started noticing the bruises on their arms and the way they would flinch when someone got too close or raised their hand. You can probably guess what that means.”

You swallow, subconsciously mirroring his frown.

"Anyway, I reached out to them and although it took some time, they finally opened up to me and told me everything. I went to the police and luckily they took action and got them out of that hellhole," the words spit from his tongue like venom and you're not sure if the sickness in your stomach is from the alcohol or what he just told you.

“How old were you?”

“I was 17 at the time.”

The way your eyes grow in size and your brows shoot up must be a comical sight for him.  

“17? That’s so young!”

“It is. But it felt like the right thing to do,” he runs his hand through his dark locks, an exhaustion that is more than familiar to you, "I mean, I couldn't take them in right away because I was a minor. They put the girls in a children's home where I visited them regularly. When I turned 18, I didn't wait a second to sign the adoption papers."

Your lips purse, "It must have been a complicated process."

His eyebrows draw together, a melancholy weariness settling over his sharp features, "Oh, it was. I came pretty close to losing my mind. But it was all worth it; if I had to, I'd do it again. In a heartbeat."

The way Geto talks is soothing. Comforting, like a blanket being laid over your shivering body, and you sink into it, relishing the warmth it provides.

“You really are a good person, Geto.”

He leans his head back against the wall, “Funnily enough, you’re the first person to tell me this. Most gave me weird looks for it. Even my friends berated me for being too impulsive, but I couldn’t do nothing.”

“It’s admirable. And other people’s judgement doesn’t have to be the final one,” you say, pointedly, “…So that’s why you decided to become a teacher, huh?”

He nods, “I believe it’s our responsibility to teach children everything. Not only the basic subjects, but also how to behave, how to socialize. And how to ask for help.”

You wonder what Geto would have done if he had met you during that time. Would he have helped you? Would he have given you words of encouragement, taken care of you?

Without even closing your eyes, you can picture him in his classroom, drawings and inspirational quotes adorning the colorful walls. He stands behind his desk, greeting his students with a gentle, welcoming smile, laughing softly at their antics, answering questions with ease, giving praise when someone gives a correct answer, motivating a student when he notices their grades improving.

You'd have enjoyed to go school with someone like Geto as your teacher.

"I'm not sure if I could ever do something like that,” you admit.

"That's okay. We all have our own roles in life. I simply chose this one."

Are you happy with the role you've chosen? With the change you have made? Or have you inadvertently dug yourself a deeper hole instead of getting out of it?

"Do you ever regret your choice?"

"Of course I have tried to imagine how different my life could have been if I had made a different choice. But there's no point in dwelling on that - I chose what felt right, and looking back would do me more harm than good," Geto points at you with his chin, “how did you end up working in a library?" he asks you now, with no hint of judgment or disdain in his deep voice. Just pure curiosity. 

You don't, can't, answer directly. Coming up with an appropriate answer while your mind is still clouded by alcohol proves to be a difficult task.

“I also studied at a university“, you start, carefully. “Medicine. That’s what I studied.”

He waits patiently, giving you time to figure out what you want to say.

“I stopped last year,” you continue. ‘Stopped’ – what a great euphemism for ‘gave up’', “I realized it wasn’t for me. I didn’t do anything for a while, and then finally got a job at the library. It’s only a side job, though.”

Talking about it – even solely scratching the surface -creates a lump in your throat.

“Is that what your joke was about?”, he muses. You mumble a quiet ‘yes’. Geto hums, seeming to be deep in thought.

"There's nothing wrong with starting over," Geto eventually proclaims into the night, and you follow his words, "If you ask me, it's stupid to choose just one path in your early years and then think you have to stick to it for the rest of your life. We've only lived a small part of our lives so far, so why not consider trying other paths? Ones that also promise less suffering."

You nod, slowly. Let the weight of his words sink in, absorb into your body and mind.

“But how do I know which path is right and which one is wrong?”

This time, he lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug. “Well, you won’t know unless you try. And there’s no such thing as a wrong or a right path – you can learn something from every path you take, even if you think you’ve failed.”

You breathe out a shaky sigh, a white cloud appearing in the cold air before you, only to dissipate in a few seconds.

“I guess you’re right.”

"I know," he smirks, and you let out an amused snort. Then, "Perhaps you should try a different path. One that is the opposite of what most people choose and expect. You might find some peace in a place that is not so crowded".

You have to say something back, something good, but you're too stunned to express any of the thoughts and emotions running through your head. 

"Do you regret stopping your studies?", Geto breaks the brief moment of silence.

Teeth dig into the inside of your cheek.

"I don't think so."

"Then I'm happy for you. Do something with that."

You find something swirling in those purple shades that you have been looking for so desperately, fruitlessly in your partner: understanding.

You don’t know what to do with it.

As Geto finishes his cigarette, he glances back at the door before turning back to you.

“Do you want to go back inside?”

A strong gust of wind rustles through the air, a whistling sound from the night sky, like a siren alarming you.

You listen to it.

“…Let’s wait a little longer.”

[operahousebookworm]

Thank you for the reminder to renew. Mine isn't up until 2027, but it would be a good idea to go ahead and get it renewed just in case.

As someone who was already in the early stages of planning a move overseas, a few points to add:

Confirm you have the originals of all vital documents somewhere that is accessible and secure. Make digital copies as well.

If you have any kind of medical conditions at all, start assembling a dossier of your medical history. Make it as complete as you can, including a full history of medications, test results, and as much of a family history as you can. Again, hard copy and digital.

Same but for any pets. Vaccination history is essential, and many countries have specific requirements.

Right now many major cities throughout the world are experiencing a housing crisis driven by landlord speculation and short-term rentals. The election results may make them slightly more sympathetic to Americans trying to move in, but logistically you still may not be very welcome.

PICK A SPECIFIC PLACE. Not just "away," start doing your research on where you can go. Where is your family from? How far back does that go? Where have you traveled that you like? What languages do you speak? What are your weather tolerances? What are the residency and citizenship requirements? Generally when you're applying for residency/citizenship, they want to know why you want to be in that place specifically.

Once you have a place, see if their government has any kind of portal for people looking to move there. This one for Scotland has links to LOADS of stuff, including a checklist and a link to a charity that specifically helps people trying to move.

Update your resume and secure as much evidence as you can confirming the stuff on it. Check any professional certifications and see if they will hold up or if you'll need to get a local equivalent. If your company has offices in other countries, start looking at the transfer process. Don't rely on being able to work remotely from another country, the tax implications of that are nightmarish.

Start downsizing now. Make decisions about which things are worth transporting and what you can sell here and repurchase there, even if you wouldn't actually be getting rid of them until much closer to the move date. Digitize as much as you can (including taking pictures of stuff that has sentimental value but isn't realistically worth hanging on to). From this point forward, become very picky and thoughtful about what you bring into your house.

Look for social media groups (they're primarily on Facebook and Reddit, yes, I know) in your destination. Definitely the ones for expats in that area, and also for any kind of affinity or hobby groups. Make friends and connections now and they can help ease the process in countless ways.

Figure out some kind of project planning/shared task list where everyone can throw in the random things they think of and keep track of where everything is.

The beauty of most of these tasks is that they don't require any kind of commitment or specific timeline, and many of them are just useful things to do in general, especially the part about securing all your documents. They're things you can do NOW to feel like you're making useful progress, even if you don't ultimately end up moving.

Anybody have advice/resources for emigrating out of a country?

To answer your questions 1) yes, this is a sincere and legitimate request 2) yes, I'm aware this process is long and laborious (unless things escalate to the point we need to go full refugee which God forbid) and 3) it would be two adults (40s, advanced degrees, decent if not ideal health) and two minors.

[that-starlit-wanderer]

The Conservative Party here in Canada is going to win power in a (possibly historically large) landslide sometime in the next 11 months, Marine Le Pen is the favorite to be the President of France in a couple of years, Italy is governed by a neo-fascist party. It's not just the US, the whole "Western" world has moved sharply to the right, that trend picked up in the mid-late 2010s and then accelerated sharply after 2020.

Why this has happened is a good question, covid and the lockdowns/vaccine/mask mandates/etc clearly pushed a lot of people to the right and the worldwide inflation that followed exacerbated that, but this definitely dates back further and I want to find a way to say "social media" without sounding like a curmudgeon. I do think there's maybe something to the idea that social media has benefited right-wing political movements way more than it has benefited left-wing or liberal ones