#we're all people and this is a conversation

[dor-min]

I don't like being cynical about this sort of thing, but

this will achieve nothing

the best case scenario, should the petition reach the level of requiring a debate in parliament, is this

they will set aside an hour in a side room to which maybe a couple dozen of our elected representatives will show up

some of them will talk about how they empathise with the struggles of trans people but unfortunately there are very good reasons why we can't just trust them with self-determination of their own bodies even if they are fully grown adults

some of them will talk about how we're all degenerates who represent a threat to women and children purely by virtue of our mere existence

no-one involved in the debate will actually have any power in the current government who will ignore the entire thing and continue to visit homophobic churches and speak warmly about parents who want to torture their trans children with conversion therapy

but I guess signing doesn't cost anything so you might as well do it anyway if it makes you feel good

If you are a British/UK citizen, there is currently a petition running (with only 125 signatures) that ends in June 2025. The petition calls for the government to make it so that you do not need a diagnosis of gender dysphoria to change your gender.

If you are a British/UK citizen, and would like to sign:

https://petition.parliament.uk/petitions/701159

If you're not a British/ UK citizen it'd be much appreciated if you could share this post !! :)

[revvethasmythh]

listen. there are a number of aspects in which c3 and divergence are not comparable and fundamentally work differently (namely the difference in construction between a long-form campaign and 4-part mini-series), but thematically? not only are they comparable, they are designed to be. divergence is being aired directly after the conclusion of c3 in order to further explore concepts introduced in its conclusion. a world with less connection to the gods, the effect of that on the faithful, how the average exandrian approaches the concept of faith in general (in multiple aspects), the connection between the divine and their mortal children, burgeoning hope from post-war darkness, etc. these are concepts we're being asked to compare with the finale of c3. so if someone says that divergence's handling of faith and exploration of the gods blows c3's out of the water, that's valid. if we were meant to be avoiding comparisons, a) they wouldn't have aired this immediately after c3, b) there wouldn't be so many overlapping concepts, and c) they wouldn't be holding off on having the wrap-up until divergence is over. divergence is in conversation with c3, actively and intentionally, and it puts a stark contrast on how poorly faith was handled in c3, but also things like. understanding character motivation. which yes, is going to shine more strongly in short-form content because you have to get the information out quickly, but is a valid thing to discuss if you genuinely feel you understand a short-form campaign character's goals better than you do a character you spent 4 years watching. it's the difference between a woman who has never been shown to seriously engage with the gods at all stating "i don't know if i want to save gods that don't love me" and the moonweaver saying "if the love is true, it will pass through the barrier" and us knowing that divine magic will continue to be granted to mortals, by the sheer love the primes hold for their children, complex as that love might be. and, fundamentally, divergence is an exploration of consequences. the consequences of the calamity on mortals and the gods and the earth itself, decimated as it is. so when people compare it to c3, when a major complaint of the campaign was lack of follow-through and exploration of consequences, divergence shines for being about exactly what a lot of people felt c3 was missing.

[scoupsakakitty]

Hii hellooo, may i have a request like svt 14th fem member youngest like they care abt platonically and protective specially when there's some male idol who wants to hit on her? Or like whenever they are shooting and some people stare at her, or during live some like that and like they become protective but the reader doesn't have any clue thank youu

Unspoken Rules | Seventeen x 14thMember | fluff

"Y/N, stand over here," Seungcheol murmured, subtly guiding her to the middle of the group as they prepared for a live broadcast.

Y/N blinked up at him, confused. "Why? What's wrong with my spot?"

"Nothing. Just... better camera angle," he answered smoothly, glancing over at Joshua, who was already nodding in silent agreement.

"Right," Y/N said, unconvinced but not questioning it further.

The members had always been protective of her—she was their youngest, after all. But lately, something had been feeling... off. Like there were unspoken rules she wasn't aware of.

The broadcast started, and everything seemed normal—until she noticed the way Jeonghan casually placed a hand on the back of her chair whenever a certain male idol sitting across from them spoke to her. Or how Mingyu laughed a little too loudly whenever she responded to said idol’s questions, effectively drowning out the conversation.

It wasn’t until later, when she scrolled through comments, that she saw fans noticing it too.

"LMAO the way Seventeen turns into a human shield whenever a guy talks to Y/N." "DK literally just changed the topic mid-sentence when that dude asked for her number." "Do they realize she’s an adult? 😭"

Her eyebrows furrowed.

"Okay," she started as she marched into their waiting room, crossing her arms. "What is going on?"

The room went silent. Some members pretended to check their phones, others suddenly found their drinks very interesting.

"You guys are acting weird," she pressed.

"We're always weird," Vernon pointed out, unhelpfully.

"Don't change the subject!" She narrowed her eyes. "Tell me why you guys keep acting like my personal security team every time a guy so much as looks at me."

A long pause. Then, Woozi sighed, rubbing his temples. "Look, Y/N, you’re our little sister. We don’t trust these guys."

"Yeah," Hoshi nodded seriously. "Some of them seem... too interested."

"Too interested?" she repeated, confused.

"Like, flirting," Jun clarified, making a face as if the word itself was offensive.

Her jaw dropped. "Wait. You guys think they—?" She burst out laughing. "You guys are ridiculous."

Seungkwan scoffed. "Oh yeah? Tell that to the dude who tried to ask for your number last week."

"What?! When? Who?"

"Exactly," Dino muttered. "You don’t even notice."

Minghao crossed his arms. "That’s why we have to."

Y/N stared at them, realizing just how deep their protectiveness ran. It wasn’t just playful big-brother energy—they genuinely looked out for her.

She sighed, shaking her head. "And what if I want to finally meet someone? What if I wanted to give him my number?" She looked at them, exasperated. "You guys can’t protect me forever."

Seungcheol, who had been quiet until now, leaned forward, his voice firm but gentle. "Yes, we can. And we will. Until we know for sure that the guy is good enough for you."

The room hummed in agreement.

"Exactly." "Facts." "Scoups speaks for all of us."

Y/N groaned dramatically and fell backward onto the couch, staring at the ceiling. "I can’t win against you guys, can I?"

"Nope," Jeonghan grinned, ruffling her hair again.

She huffed but couldn't help the small smile creeping onto her face. Maybe having thirteen overprotective brothers wasn’t so bad after all.

[mhahaikyuus]

I have my reasons

tags:; : royal au, gojo x f!reader, fluff, childhood best friend gojo, gojo is deeply in love

wc:; 1k

a/n: I just wanted to post it's been a while bc school is whooping me DOWN. let me know if you like it and I can make it a series, hope you enjoy :)

Your corset was digging into your side as you shifted in your seat trying to subtly fix your dress. It was no use. Your maids painstakingly putting you in this elaborate outfit for today like a ornate China doll.

You sighed in acceptance at your view. The hot sun beating down on the crowds of the most elite in the country as they mingled on grassy fields. You fanned yourself with ornate flimsy fabric from the heat to no avail.

The emperor had announced a lively tournament to last as long as he saw fit since success from the war. 10 long years of conquering had finally come to an end. The clans all requested to join together to celebrate.

All the women in their best, made polite conversation an walked around the estate. The group of loud men cheering and belching their stories through tart wine and sudsy beer. The emperor boasting of his exploits and battle wounds surrounded by yes men, your own father included.

You were the daughter to the closest advisor and political genius of the emperor. Your father and the Emperor had been a pair since they were young themselves.

Now you were forced into a tight corset, flowy dress, pins sticking into your scalp the result of a elegant updo your maid, Helena had fixed.

You sat at the table of the emperor wishing to be anywhere else at the moment. You never enjoyed royal events since you were a child. You could think of 40 different better ways to spend your time than socializing with your so called peers. They were draining to deal with and you had to maintain polite composure.

"Hey...pstt."

You side eyed your best friend who was failing to be discrete in getting your attention, leaning towards you.

"What Toru?" You said to his wide blue eyes. His usually wild white hair combed down and he was wearing his colored glasses with traditional robes.

He smiled at finally getting your attention and your nickname for him, "How much longer?"

You let out a small laugh at his words leaning a bit to talk, "We're only on the third course." He was always impatient at these events.

He let out a small whine, dropping his head on the tablecloth. You nudged him with your leg to get him to stop. He huffed drawing himself up into sitting up.

"You know how Emperor Gojo is."

He rolled his eyes and almost slouched like a child, "My dad is so attention seeking, we get it."

You almost choked your drink at your best friend's words. He couldn't be serious.

"Yeah, it's a bad trait to have." You said to yourself with a laugh before taking a sip of wine.

Satoru and his father didn't get along great but there was no denying that he was the rightful heir. He was the chosen one, and a mirror image of the old emperor.

The party was getting rowdier as time went on. The royals taking advantage of the endless wine and beer. Singing and loud cheering as people socialized was getting to you. The loud noises hurting your ears slowly starting an ache in your temples. Your social battery was depleted.

"I'm about to leave." Gojo said suddenly turning to you in his seat. His leg jumping under the table. He was ready to make his exit.

You raised your eyebrows at his words, "Where?"

He shrugged and a loud cheer erupted on the other end of the table.

Gojo turned to the distracted crowd then back to you. His large hand slipping out the sleeve of his robe to hold your own. He grabbed your hand and began to pull you through the crowd. You stumbled getting up from the table.

"Toru, we can't just-" You protested but followed him his hand firmly gripping your own. He continued through the crowd as you gripped his hand firmly to keep from tripping over your dress.

"We just did." He said pulling you into a dark archway from the crowd.

This was a familiar area of the castle, since you two were children exploring different areas of the Gojo Estate. The area he pulled you into was not a well visited. Maids would use it occasionally if a room was blocked off as an alternative route.

Gojo's hand slipped from your own as you walked down the empty hallway. You let out a sigh of relief at the silence feeling your own head not beat in irritation. The only noise in the otherwise silent corridor were your heels clicking on the stone floor. You bunched up your layered dress and sat on the window's ledge.

Satoru watched you as you settled in, his hands in his robes as he leaned against the wall. He would rather spend time with you than anyone else.

"Thanks for getting me out of there." You said with a smile watching your feet dangle as they swung under you.

He returned a cute smile, "You were fading."

You shrugged, "Parties aren't my thing, Mr. Social." You teased wiggling your eyebrows at him.

Satoru could feel his face heat up at your words letting out a cough avoiding your eyes. You smiled at his red tinted cheeks.

Your best friend was the first born son of the biggest clan in your country. He was charming and wasn't bad looking. Of course he had his fun with women, taverns and brothels. You were more of the introverted side. Enjoying your time at the estate with books and music.

He rolled his eyes at your words, kicking the dirt under his feet before meeting your eyes. "Wasn't just for you ya know. I had my own reasons." Satoru replied simply.

You. He thought.

"What?" you asked, Satoru looked like he wanted to say something but was holding back.

"Nothing." He shrugged hopping up on the ledge next to you. His much longer legs crossing in front of him. Gojo's breath hitching every time he was able to smell your sweet perfume but you never noticed. You two enjoyed the silence sitting with each other.

"Lady Wu was-

"so drunk!" You finished for him and you two laughed gossiping about everyone in your own little world for the rest of the party.

[enby-spacerok]

this is just me again talking only to me on a blog no one looks at but it's 2am and I'm awake all sicky:

art, I find, is such an amorphous thing to define and I think I've landed on it being undefinable in a way that it can be defined and made true in a billion different ways by each individual.

I met artists that died for their art. struggled because they thought that was true art. to suffer for it was to really dedicate one's self fully.

I've met artists who sold out and produced to sell what was popular in the social circles who'd looked their way according to people who had the money to spend.

I've met total asshats who created a persona to perform to package their art and themselves and rip off and appropriate whatever or whoever to get what they want.

I've worked with production potters whose goal were to sell a ware and make enough to earn a living. To produce and market.

And I've seen all these people fight amongst each other as to who's work was truly "Art"

For me, I can talk about subject, form, intent, emotion, skill, technique, purpose, so on and so forth. But I can also talk about context, history, and production ethics.

The art world is predatory, in all it's forms. Galleries, music producers, film studios, even small businesses run out of third party websites. Anything you buy in the art world can raise a lot of ethical questions. And fuck if anyone knows what will catch the eyes and interests of the masses. Why is also something we can argue about but ugh let's not get too far in the weeds.

Ultimately though I take issue with putting down anything that has reached the masses. Conflating popularity with being a sellout is dangerous, incorrect, and makes me question what type of social construct is trying to be built with that statement.

Pop music is not a crime. I will die by that mantra.

Popularity does not mean sanitization

Kink, raunchyness, or "shocking" content does not equal "Art"

Judging what is Art with the benchmark of it 'being made true from the heart' is an outside individual's experience of the artist that cannot be perceived from outside the artist. It might be art that does not appeal to you - is that not true from the heart? An artist might tell you all about their process and inspiration - and they can lie to you.

That said...

Art has this curious thing of being inspired by what is in vogue. It is often a conversation and results in rebellion. It's also been seen over and over that artists pushing back against the popular become popular themselves in time. So when does art stop being true to the heart?

Oh boy are we asking an interesting question here :3

Nirvana described themselves as pop music, but they were born from the underground scene. We're they no longer Art then?

Vincent van Gogh was unwaveringly supported by his brother Theo to make Art but wasn't much recognized while he was alive. He only sold one painting before he committed suicide. Was his work Art because he struggled with mental health and worked tirelessly and died having believed he didn't truly achieve his dream of becoming a Great Artist? Did his work always come from the heart because of those things? Is his work worthless now that it's marketable to the masses? Now that it is popular?

Keith Harring was incredibly prolific and a man who chose to market himself in order to make art more accessible to the masses. He was a huge philanthropist, brought joy to his local community and worldwide, and deeply influenced mainstream art. His art surely came from his heart AND a collection of it was raunchy (less well-known). But he marketed himself purposefully. It was part of his art. He learned from street art and painted everywhere in public (illegally) until he was too recognizable. Is only some of his work "Art"? Are only the gay parts true Art? Is the baby not radiant?!

It is a great exercise to try and define art, and definitely a worthwhile pursuit. I can guarantee every time you do it though it will slip through your fingers. It will evade you. It will change each time you think about it. Each time you view or experience or create.

What I will not abide by is exclusionary verbage. That falls into the same trap as big time galleries who scrape 50% of the profits.

I find it much more worth while to discuss how to create a community that allows every artist to explore what brings them joy and give them the freedom to do wildly different things throughout their career. So there is place for the plein air painters, the graffiti artists, and straight up, gay ass kinky furry porn.

I'm against art being sanitized and mass marketed/marketable to masses. so when I see my mutuals draw their queer furry Sonas and characters being horny or indulging in their kinks or self expression it makes my heart full. I encourage every artist out there to draw from their heart and worry less about being appealing to others.

[myfandomrealitea]

I hate how seriously fandom is taken nowadays. ESPECIALLY SHIPPING.

Im a neutral shipper and block the things that make me uncomfortable, and try not to engage in shipcourse, but the way seemingly everyone and their mother brings up shipping discourse in an unrelated conversation makes me want to tear my hair out.

" [artist] also drew fictional [incest, pedophilia, zoo, etc] so we should all be aware " who cares? Just let me look at my two favs kissing.

Its exhausting how many times the pro vs anti debate is brought up, especially if you dont want anything to do with it. Let me have my fun gosh darnit

As a society we have forgotten the freedom of creation and the disconnect between thoughts and actions. We're so focused on what is "actually bad" and we're so terrified of not being a "bad person" that its killing art, creativity and healthy outlets.

We're now expected to comb through years of people's internet presence to make sure they're not "evil" or "bad" and 52 fucking Carrd pages just to find out if we can reblog their low-quality stolen moodboards.

I absolutely hate to sound like one of Those People but I simply do not fucking care. If you're an anti and you don't want me engaging, fine. We can block each other. Problem solved. But that's about as much effort as I'm willing to extend. If there's information you want me to know it should be simple and easy to find. If I can't find it in 1-2 clicks, I don't care, its obviously not important, and I'm not going to waste my time going on a hunt for it.

If you DM me to tell me someone draws age gap incest or something equally non-consequential, especially if you're hiding behind the anon button, I promise you, your message goes straight on the trash and you straight on the block list.

Fandom is a creative community space. It is not an activism space. It is not an approval space. Its for me to yell about continuity errors in Yellowstone and draw two men kissing. I don't care if some random user I reblogged a post from 6 months ago ships incest or doesn't tip.

[gali-in-distress]

Purity culture has a way of getting into fandom spaces with a strength that's genuinely concerning. Especially in these times we're living, where our very own existences are being threatened by powerful people creating laws based on conservativism and puritanism.

I find it ironic (and very telling) that we're so ready to clutch our pearls when it comes to sexual content, but not anything else.

Dead Boy Detectives fandom, I'm talking to you.

Why are we so scandalized by the mere mention of sex? By people writing or creating sexually explicit art? Why do we think that younger fans of the show are not ready to hear simple words describing sexual activities in a neutral way, or discuss sensitive subjects such as sex related activities?

When I see people being censored or criticized under this "protect the children" rhetoric, I ask myself:

How were these the same fans who watched an entire show which main themes are hate crimes, queer subjects, violence and death, and that also heavily presents sexual assault, family annihilation, colorful and frequent curse words and many more real life, serious elements?

If you are a fan of this show and you were able to understand and connect with even a portion of its canonical content, then I'd assume that you're ready to have a conversation about it, or watch others talk about it. And yet I continue to see people wanting to keep others from conversations that are not any more explicit or sexual or serious in nature than what we see in the show.

Do not lie to yourselves, are we really concerned about other people's safety? Or are we performing some form of shallow wanna-be activism?

Are we celebrating a (cancelled) queer show, or deciding that some queer experiences are more appropriate than others?

See the way our fandom trends reflect what's happening in our very real lives. Do not protect the fake values of conservatism, they want all of us just as equally silent (or dead).

[three--rings]

So I recently went out with a group of women, only one of which I really know well, though I've met all of them.

And I was thinking in preparation and I was like, oh maybe we'll talk about what we're watching and I can talk about Severance and how I just finished Arcane. Yanno, normal topics of conversation.

And instead I sat there an entire meal where the conversation never once left the topic of everyone's jobs.

And me, with my purple hair, and disability, and lack of job just sat there like, oh yeah I very much care about the temperature of your office and the staff meetings and what your coworker said.

I think the only thing I contributed to the conversation was when taxes were mentioned and I threw out the difficulty of doing my small business taxes and people were basically like oh you should just pay someone for that and all I can think is no that's food money, but by all means go back to talking about how expensive the houses you want to buy are.

Just I genuinely forget what Normal People are like sometimes. How...boring. And for the record, like these people should all fall in the geek category. They are at least geek adjacent. One at least is queer. (Besides me.)

But my god I could not have cared less about just about anything discussed that night.

I saw a very similar group of people three days later and the longest topic of conversation then was...sports. And none of us were all that into sports, except for two Hockey Girls.

I was so relieved when the group changed and I was with two of my normal friends and I could go "so I finished Arcane" and then the three of us geeked out loudly without stopping for like 20 minutes.

All this to say, like, you don't have to Grow Up and Become Normal. You really don't. I want to hear about what music you're listening to and the TV you're watching and the book you're reading and god do I not want to sit around complaining about weather and taxes just because I'm in my 40s.

[finchfin]

Like parent, like child. For now, Phoenix feels the best using they/them pronouns. :)

Transcript and some comments under the cut. (I just figured out how to insert the "keep reading" thing into a post. Magical.)

Comments: Brought back captions for this because I wanted to put the conversation in-world instead of me just describing what's going on. I waffled between having Phoenix use a gnc parental term like "opie" "renny" "pama" etc. for Thistle for a long time, but eventually decided that Thistle would probably want to just be called their name. I do think Whitney would like to be called Mom though, so what I'm wondering (if anyone is reading this lmao) is if it's confusing for Thistle to be called their name and Whitney to be called Mom. Also, I tried to make the explanation of gender roles simplified for this as Phoenix is still a kid and figuring these things out for the first time, so I hope that makes sense too. I am open to critiques on if it doesn't work though.

TRANSCRIPT:

Phoenix: Mom, can I talk to Thistle for a second?

Whitney: Of course, baby! I'll be cooking downstairs if you want to join afterwards.

Thistle: What's up, little bird?

Phoenix: Um...well...

Phoenix: How did you know you weren't a boy or a girl?

Thistle: Hmm...grandma told you I came from a wish, right? I wasn't really born like you were. I never really could figure out gender like the other kids seemed to.

Phoenix: Well...I don't know if I feel like a boy like the other kids do. But I didn't come from a wish.

Phoenix: What makes me a boy, and not a girl?

Thistle: How do I explain this...it's all the way you're supposed to act. Boys are supposed to act differently than girls because it's what we're told is normal. Like the clothes we wear-girls are told they're supposed to wear skirts, and boys are told they can't.

Phoenix: But you never told me I couldn't wear a skirt.

Thistle: Just because it's what the world we live in tells us to do, doesn't mean we have to. I don't fit into a "boy" or a "girl", and some people don't like that because they don't understand why people break their made up gender rules.

Phoenix: So, I don't have to be a boy if I don't feel like one?

Thistle: Of course not, little bird. You can be whoever you want to be.

Phoenix: Okay! I want to try being like you.

Thistle: You want to be called "they" instead of "he"?

Phoenix: Yeah!

Thistle: Alright. I'll tell your teachers. And if you need me to explain it to your friends or their parents, let me know.

Phoenix: My friends all know about you. I think they'll get it.

Thistle: I'm proud of you, little bird. We can talk more about this too. I'm here for you, always.

Phoenix: Thanks, Thistle! I love you.

Thistle: I love you too.

[maraschinomerry]

Bottom of the Rainbow

Pairings: George Karim x gn!reader

Summary: after George gets mad at you for keeping a secret, you finally share your unusual hobby with him - searching for the ends of rainbows

Content: sunshine x grump, fluff, mentions of reader's dad (positive), first kiss

A/N: I'm back after nearly a year!! Another sunshine x grump fic, except George isn't really a grump so much as just himself 😅 inspired by but not a continuation of You Are My Sunshine. Thank you as always to my Georges for the support, especially Lisa for beta reading 🫶

Word count: 5.2k

Taglist: @neewtmas @marinalor @ettadear @honey-with-tea @mischiefmanaged71 (to be added or removed, just let me know!)

It was, as most people would describe it, a thoroughly miserable day, and you couldn't be more excited.

As far as the eye could see (which currently wasn’t far at all), London was draped in thick grey clouds, from which poured heavy lances of rain that lashed against the windows of 35 Portland Row like they were trying to break in. The house was quiet save for the dull drumming from the other side of the glass. Lucy was upstairs recording a cassette for Norrie, Lockwood was training in the basement, and George was… somewhere, so you had the living room to yourself. It was rather peaceful really, sitting in your armchair by the window, watching the movements of the sky.

The floorboard by the door creaked as George entered with a huff. So much for peaceful.

“If you're waiting for a client, you're wasting your time,” the curly-haired boy pointed out as he flopped onto the sofa. “We're not expecting anyone and very few people are daft enough to turn out in this weather on the off-chance we'll take their case.”

“Oh no,” you replied cheerily, “just waiting for the rain to die down.”

“Not a fan?” If only he knew. But that was just it, he didn't really know you at all. You'd been part of the same agency, living under the same roof, for 3 months now, and the two of you were still almost as distant as the day you started. Sure, you knew now how each other worked, the way you handled cases, but when it came down to your personal lives you'd found out very quickly how different you were from one another. He was so quick-witted and sardonic, while you didn't have a sarcastic bone in your body. Lucy and Lockwood were able to go toe-to-toe with him, but it was clear he was holding back because they were friends. You'd seen George talk to Kipps once. He was brutal. At least the others had some softness to them, which made you feel a little less like the odd one out.

“Hello?” George's voice brought you back into the room, and you realised you'd been staring out the window again.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. What was it he'd asked? Oh, not a fan of the rain. “I don't mind the rain, actually.”

“Well you live in the right country then.” He'd already picked up his book, and it seemed like he wasn't all that interested in your opinions on the weather or in continuing the conversation at all, so you allowed the room to lull back into the ambient quiet of the pattering outside.

George was quite engrossed in his book, but occasionally he would glance up and find you still watching the rain. What was the big deal, anyway? It wasn’t like it hadn't rained most weeks since you'd arrived, yet every time you gazed out the window like you’d moved to London from a desert. Still, at least you were peaceful with it, creating a companionable quiet for him to read or do research without having to engage in idle chatter. For all your chipper nature and relentless enthusiasm, you were surprisingly reserved. He respected that.

Suddenly, the quiet was broken by an excitable squeak from by the window. George lowered his book in time to see you leap to your feet, face glowing with a smile and the radiance of the sunlight which was finally breaking through the parting clouds.

“Back soon!” you called as you bolted from the room, and within seconds the slam of the front door rang out. Bewildered, George pushed himself up from the sofa and ventured into the hallway. There was an empty space on the shoe rack where your boots normally sat, and the coat rack showed the distinct absence of your yellow raincoat. He opened the front door with a frown, just in time to see a flash of yellow disappear round the corner. The bright pockets of blue that had appeared in the sky caused him to squint, so much so that he almost missed the colours brushed across one of the lower clouds. A rainbow, dipping behind a nearby house.

You returned about 10 minutes later, looking slightly out of breath and considerably less excited than you had when you left. George was back in his place on the sofa, and this time he barely even lowered his book as he addressed you passing the doorway. “What was that all about?”

“Oh,” you replied falteringly, “it was nothing really.” How odd, George thought.

The second time it happened, all four of the group were there. You'd been out for breakfast to celebrate a case well done, and the cafe had provided welcome respite from the rain. Soon enough you all headed for home, when the telltale streak of colour appeared against the vanishing clouds. George was only slightly less surprised this time by the delighted squeal from your end of the line, which was immediately followed by you breaking away in a jog.

“Don't wait for me, I'll see you at home!” you called over your shoulder as you picked up speed.

Lucy frowned. “Should we follow them?”

George was tempted. As much as it didn't really make much difference to him what you did with your free time, he had to admit he was curious where you kept running off to. Still, he shrugged and carried on in the direction of Portland Row and the other two eventually followed.

The coat hooks in the hallway were empty when the trio arrived home, distinctly lacking in yellow. You said you'd meet back here, but with how quickly you were moving they'd assumed you meant you'd get there first. By the time it reached half an hour since you'd gone off, an odd air had descended over the group, tinged with concern.

“Do we know where y/n was running off to?” Lockwood asked, breaking the silence. George had the beginnings of a suspicion, but he couldn't be sure, so he stayed quiet.

Lucy, meanwhile, was less calm. She stood by your chair in the window, peering out every time someone walked by. “Are we sure they're okay? Shouldn't we be going out and looking?”

“Lucy, it's barely gone 10,” George finally piped up. “It won't be dark for hours, they're not exactly in any danger.”

“You've seen the enemies we've made in the past,” she retorted. “You really want to take that risk?”

A bolt of worry shot through George; he tried his best to hide it but was less successful at hiding the way he almost leapt out of his armchair at the sound of a key in the front door.

You sighed as you kicked off your boots. All that for nothing. You'd even gone to all the effort of running with your kit bag, which wasn't exactly light, and it still hadn't been worth it. Sure, lots of the other times had ended up like this, but somehow it stung even more today. At least it seemed like everyone was off doing their own thing so you could sneak up to your room and have some time to yourself.

The living room door swung open, and you caught a glimpse of dark curls.

So much for that plan.

“Where have you been?” George asked sharply.

You groaned quietly, hoisting your bag up and heading for the stairs. “Not now George, please.”

The thud of a second pair of feet on the stairs made your heart drop even further. “No, no, hang on! You can't just run off like that. Do you not trust us or something?”

“George!”

“Well that's what it feels like! We were-” he stopped for a fraction of a second, “Lucy and Lockwood were worried about you. Not even a hint of where you'd gone, what you were doing, how long you'd be…”

You'd reached your room by now, throwing your kit bag onto your bed and sinking down beside it. George lingered in the doorway, but he didn't let up.

“I was just… doing something.”

“Oh,” George scoffed. “So what was so important and secretive that you couldn't just tell us? Were you seeing someone?”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You tried to blink them away without him noticing. The last thing you wanted right now was to talk to anyone, let alone be interrogated or lectured by someone so cynical that they'd never understand your motivations. “No-”

“Then what?!”

“I was trying to find the bottom of the rainbow!” The words burst out of you in almost a yell, making the quiet that followed twice as loud. Your gaze was fixed firmly on the floor, and yet you were painfully aware of the look of confusion and judgement on George's face. Maybe if you kept staring at that one spot for long enough, he'd finally leave you alone. “That's why I didn't tell you,” you mumbled. “Because I was afraid you'd look at me like that.”

George stood, frozen, just beyond the threshold of your room. He knew he could be harsh sometimes, but his friends didn't usually mind and anyone who did was met with an even stronger retort. He was the way he was, and that had never been an issue.

Until now.

He wasn't sure which part he felt worse about - the fact you thought he was looking at you in some kind of way, or the fact that you were expecting it. The two of you weren't the closest, but you were friends, weren't you? At the very least, you were a team. You were supposed to have each other's backs.

“Sorry,” he started after what felt like an age. “I just… I don't get it.”

“It's nothing,” you sniffed. Hang on, were you crying? Because of him?

George hesitated a moment, weighing up the impact of crossing both a physical and emotional barrier, before stepping into your room. He glanced around, taking in your space properly for the first time. The pile of books on your desk, the faded music posters on the walls, the photos taped around the mirror. And you, seeming smaller than usual, curled into yourself on the bed, still not looking at him. His voice was soft when he spoke, surprising you both. “We wouldn't be here if it was nothing. Help me understand why it matters to you.”

When you still didn't speak, he thought perhaps he'd crossed a line. Perhaps you were finding the nerve to tell him to get out. He didn't normally do things like this, he had no idea what to expect. He was so busy considering whether to leave that he almost didn't hear you.

“It was my dad's idea.”

George turned his attention from the door and found your gaze on him at last. The slight tears on your lashes, the way you chewed anxiously at your lip, the absolute vulnerability of the moment stirred something in him. He swallowed the feeling. He knew your family were still around to some extent, you mentioned them from time to time, but it hit him that you never talked about them in depth, just a passing comment now and again. You never told him anything proper about them. Or maybe it was just that he'd never asked. “Is that him in the photos?” He gestured to the mirror. You nodded, then gave an extra nod towards the mirror in an unspoken invitation.

The pictures, a mixture of Polaroids and film prints, spanned well over a decade. An adorable short-haired toddler, a beaming child with their front teeth missing, a pre-teen who had clearly shot up out of nowhere, all the way up to you in your first agency training uniform. A couple of the shots were of you and your former teammates, but many of the rest featured an older man. The ones that didn't, George suspected, had been taken by him.

You watched George warily, waiting for whatever comment he was going to make next. The comment never came, and you realised that he was actually paying attention to what he was looking at. You quietly stood, your feet sinking into the rug around your bed, and joined him by the mirror.

“That was our first rainbow,” you murmured, pointing to a faded photo. The boy beside you jumped a little, having been too engrossed to notice your approach. He followed your finger to a photo of you, about 3 or 4 years old, grinning next to the boundary of a lush green field. Just beyond the fence, almost lost to the wear of time, was a thick streak across the sky touching down into the grass. The red and blue had sustained the worst fading, but it was still unmistakable. “We came across it by chance, and my dad told me it was special finding the end of a rainbow. He bought me a whole bar of chocolate on the way home, bigger than the ones mum usually let me have.” You pointed out a couple more photos of rainbows the two of you had found and the outcomes - a special dessert one time, a new pair of boots the next. “Even after I started training and found some on my own, something good would always happen. This one was just before I got my first grade.” It was on the far side of the mirror, so you had to lean to point it out. As you began to pull back, you suddenly realised how close you were standing. His face was nearer yours than it had ever been before, and you breathed in bergamot and cinnamon. George wasn't looking where your finger was either; he was looking at you, not the strange way he had before but a new, equally strange way. You felt your cheeks grow warm, and you quickly went and sat back on the bed, this time leaving a space.

“So that's it? You're going after them for the tradition, and to try and make something good happen?” George asked, his attention now fully on you.

You kicked your feet a little, scuffing them along the rug. “Sort of. It's nice getting the extra boost of luck, but recently…”

George came closer, and when you made no protest he perched in the empty space on your bed. He gave you a small, awkward yet encouraging smile. “Your dad?”

You pulled a face, your nose scrunching. George wanted to make a joke about it making you look like a bunny, fighting the urge to call it cute, but now wasn't the time. He let you speak instead. “I told him I'd write and send a photo when I caught my first London rainbow, but that was months ago. I've spoken to him since of course, but only by phone. The longer I leave it, the more I feel like I can't write without having found one. It doesn't feel the same.” There were tears in the corners of your eyes again.

“You'll find one sooner or later,” George said reassuringly. “It's England after all, you've seen how often it rains.”

You laughed, the tension leaving your shoulders as you wiped your eyes on the cuff of your sleeve. “Thanks, George. And thank you for, you know, understanding.”

“Just promise you won't run off on your own any more, okay? Take one of us with you.”

“I promise. I suppose it's safer that way.”

“Well there is that,” he smirked, “and you'll need someone to take your photo.”

—

It had been just over a week, and you were amazed by how much things had changed. You'd never been uncomfortable around George, you'd just accepted that the two of you were too dissimilar to be close, but now you found yourself wondering how you had ever thought that. You found yourself seeking out his company more often, even if you were both sitting in silence doing your own hobbies - last week, his presence had frustrated you, now you almost craved it. It seemed like he sought you out more too. On that first evening, he'd brought you an album full of pictures of his own family to reciprocate you sharing yours. If he was cooking and you were passing through to or from the basement, he'd either start a conversation that forced you to stay for a few more minutes or he'd ask for you to pass him one ingredient after the other until the meal became a joint effort.

One day, you found yourself accompanying George to the Archives to help with research. It hadn't been a successful day by any standard - someone had borrowed the book George really needed, and the article you were after had been badly damaged by an overeager junior Tendy's agent. The worst part was that you were both absolutely drenched from the downpour you'd arrived in. Thank goodness you both had coats, or it would have been an utterly horrible day, but they hadn't protected you from getting soaked from the waist down. Your boots had only just stopped squelching. The two of you called it a day after an hour of fruitless searching for other potentially useful materials, and you turned up your hood as you headed for the door in preparation. The soft grey of the clearing clouds that met you was a welcome relief, and you immediately started scanning the skies as you walked away.

There.

You gasped in excitement at the vibrancy of the rainbow in the near distance. It was the clearest you'd seen in all your time in London. “George!” you called, already starting to head towards it. He hadn't spotted it, hadn't moved. Each second was too precious for you to wait. Without thinking, you grabbed his hand and ran towards the corner. He stumbled a bit at first and his grip tightened around yours, taken by surprise, but he quickly fell into a matching pace. Together you hurtled through the city, narrowly avoiding collisions with pedestrians and lampposts alike. You'd almost lost hope when at last you turned a corner and stopped dead in your tracks. George nearly ran into your back. The colours were fainter than they had been, but they were still clear as day where they fell just the other side of a large puddle. You let out a squeak, and if you didn't know better you'd swear the hand in yours squeezed its encouragement. What was for sure, though, was the way the hand pulled you back as you began to move forward. You frowned.

“Give me your camera,” George prompted.

“Oh, right.” With a hint of reluctance, you let go of his hand and pulled a slim disposable camera from your coat pocket. Once again, George stopped you. He directed you to behind the puddle, with the rainbow landing in front, before cautiously stepping into the road and lining up his shot.

“On three, jump. One, two, three!”

You jumped into the puddle with a joyful giggle, the droplets that flew up around you illuminated by the flash of the camera. George took another still photo in case the first one didn't turn out well before handing the camera back. Through the little window on the back, you could see the number 1. You raised the viewfinder to your eye.

“Whoa, what are you doing?”

“Well, I'm not getting this developed and wasting a perfectly good shot, but I don't want to wait until I find another rainbow to finish it off. Smile!”

George rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, but he was smiling in spite of himself, and you were smiling too as you pressed the shutter.

You weren't quite sure where you'd ended up, so you followed George who seemed to know a route home. It wasn't until you got to more familiar surroundings that you realised you'd been too giddy to notice exactly which way you were going.

“Isn't the house that way?” you pointed back over your shoulder.

George shrugged. “It is, but we're not going home yet. Lockwood and Lucy won't be expecting us back so soon, so we're going to Arif's for doughnuts.”

You blushed. You hadn't expected anything from George when you dragged him along, you were quite happy to wait for the usual moment of good fortune, but it was unexpectedly thoughtful that he'd paid attention to your tradition and considered this. While you were dragging your heels, clearly not wanting to push the boundaries of generosity, he bought you a rich chocolate doughnut with a salted caramel filling (the kind you'd secretly eyed up before but found too decadent to buy yourself) and a strawberries and cream one for himself. Stepping back out into the sunshine, you sat together on a small bench across the road to eat. The wood was a little damp from the rain, but without hesitation George laid his coat down and sat on one half. You were about to remark about him catching a cold as you squeezed yourself onto the other half, but the warmth radiating into your side caused the words to die in your throat. You nestled in a bit closer; if George noticed, he didn't say anything about it. You unwrapped your sweet prize and held it up, beaming when George touched his to it in a silent toast.

“That was… kind of fun, actually,” he said almost like he was surprised at having enjoyed himself.

“It was!” you grinned. “It was nice having someone to share it with again. And thanks for the doughnut.”

George thought for a minute. “So what's next, you write to your dad and then what? Look for the next one?”

“Exactly. I find it quite encouraging in a way, knowing that whatever happens, however bad things might get, there are always going to be more rainbows. It's got me this far.”

“Well I hope there's a bit of a break before the next one. I'm a researcher, I'm not used to all this running around.”

You blinked. Was he implying he wanted to join you again? And why did you hope that was what he meant?

Lockwood was draped across the sofa when you got home. He peered over the top of his magazine as you closed the front door.

“That took a while. Was it a productive session?”

You worried at your lip. You still hadn't told Lockwood or Lucy about your unusual hobby, and in the moment you felt a bit silly to have been running round and having fun when you hadn't done the work you set out to do. You glanced nervously at George.

“Sort of,” the other boy replied, giving you a reassuring look before turning to Lockwood. “Although I want you to know that if I ever get my hands on the agent who spilled coffee over that newspaper article I was telling you about, I will not be held responsible for my actions.”

“Y/n, I think you need to accompany George more often, we can’t afford to be blacklisted from any other establishments,” Lockwood winked at you.

“In that case,” George faked a scowl, “perhaps they ought to accompany me while I make us lunch so I don't set your kitchen on fire.”

You nodded, before glancing pointedly at Lockwood. It was time to come clean. “I'll be with you in a sec.” Thankfully, the curly-haired boy got the message, and left you to explain in your own time.

—

Everyone had been very supportive, much to your relief. Lucy had gone rainbow-hunting with you a few times over the following months, Lockwood a couple more, and on one occasion you'd ended up taking the whole team with you on the way back from an errand. It was fun getting to spend time and share your passion with them all, and now you had a whole new array of pictures being developed that you couldn't wait to add to your mirror, but you had to admit that your favourite were the times when it was you and George. You'd been out searching together again just before you collected your first photos, and it wasn't until you reread the letter to your dad before sending and noticed you'd dedicated an entire paragraph to talking about your coworker that you finally admitted to yourself why that was the case. Something good did always happen still, regardless of who you were with, but with him it felt different. He always put in that little bit extra. And gradually, you felt different. Before long you were analysing almost every interaction the two of you had - every late night conversation in one of your rooms, every time his hand grazed yours or he made the effort to give physical contact when you needed reassurance on a case (he didn't do that with anyone else, but that didn't mean it meant anything, right?). You tried not to read too much into it all, telling yourself that even if things had changed it was only because he felt obliged to keep an eye on you so you wouldn't run off again.

You'd now been with the agency just over 6 months, marking 3 months since you'd first run off and started this whole chain of events. Last night had been a particularly rough case, so you were letting off steam in the basement training area. The powerful beat of your music drowned out your grunts of frustration as you swung your rapier through the jets of air, and you yelped when suddenly you spun round to find not a white cloud but George. Clearly you hadn't heard him coming down the stairs. Time seemed to slow as you stumbled backwards, terrified of hurting him or worse, that you'd already done so. One of your feet caught on the other, and you felt the blade fall from your hand as you grasped for something, anything, to stop you from falling. A hand, warm and steady, wrapped around your waist. You gaped up at George in surprise. He seemed just as shocked, though whether that was because of his action or because in the heat of the moment his fingers had caught under your top and gripped the skin above your waistband, you couldn't say. Another blast made you jump, bringing you back to reality, and you frantically hid your blushes as the boy flicked off the training equipment and mouthed something, his words inaudible. You launched yourself to the stereo and paused your music. The silence was deafening.

“I take it you couldn't hear anything, then?”

You frowned, wondering what you were supposed to have heard. Had he been calling you? Then, out of the quiet, a sound emerged. A persistent pattering on the window. Rain.

“You need to come outside right now.” He offered you his hand. Blushing again, you took it, and he led you up the stairs and through to the hallway. You'd been so caught up in the moment that you hadn't realised he was wearing his coat until he took yours from the hook and helped you into it. Hoods up, you both stepped out onto the street. You glanced around. This had to be about a rainbow. But where was it? George gently placed a hand on your shoulder, moving you until you could follow his eyeline.

You gasped.

There in the distance, glorious against the grey clouds, was the most vibrant rainbow you'd ever seen. Above it, much paler but still noticeable, was a fragment of inverted colours. A double rainbow. Frozen in awe, you almost forgot the urgency of the situation, until George took your hand again and started running. Together you wove through the streets, occasionally calling directions or words of encouragement as you drew closer. The colours remained ever vibrant, a beacon of joy across the sky. You found yourselves in a small park, where the main arc of the rainbow touched down into the grass beside a wooden gazebo. Both of you were panting, but you no longer needed words to communicate; George simply held out his hand, and you passed him your camera. He couldn't help but smile behind it as you twirled through the rain with a laugh, feet sinking into the sodden ground, and gave the biggest grin he'd known you to have, even in the photos he'd seen. Then he came closer, turning the camera round and pulling you into his side as he snapped a photo of the two of you. Soon the adrenaline wore off and you were faced with the fact that you'd just run all the way here and it was still raining, so you climbed into the gazebo and slumped down onto a bench. George sat beside you, leaning his head back against a pillar.

“Can you believe that's the first time I've ever seen a double rainbow?” you sighed. The feelings were overwhelming. You'd barely believed you would ever have this experience, of course you'd always thought you'd share it with your dad but somehow being here with George felt like everything it needed to be.

“Seriously? That definitely deserves a celebration.”

You giggled, leaning playfully towards him.

“Does that mean doughnuts on the way home again?”

Something in his demeanour shifted and you worried you'd pushed things too far. His smile was smaller, wavering, and his hand went from almost brushing yours to playing with the hem of his coat.

“Sorry, you don't have to-” you began.

“No, it's… I meant something bigger, since this is such an important moment for you, like, um, like dinner?”

Why was he so nervous about that? It was a great suggestion! You loved nothing more than the times you spent cooking together and it was sweet that he'd realised how much it meant. “Sure,” you reassured him, “what shall we cook?”

He swallowed thickly, voice coming out low and cautious. “Actually, I meant could I buy you dinner?”

Maybe it was the clouds starting to clear. Maybe it was later than you thought and the ghost lamps were starting to come on. Maybe it was just your own obliviousness finally crumbling. Whatever it was, you looked at George in a whole new light, at the way he was watching you carefully and expectantly.

“George Casper Karim, are you asking me on a date?”

He hesitated. “That depends on whether you're saying yes.”

You moved closer and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “Does that answer your question?”

George began to lean in, but then he stopped. You started to worry again that you'd done something wrong, until he took your hand and led you from the gazebo. It was just drizzling now, the droplets coating his dark curls in a fine mist and splashing onto your own hair as you stepped outside. The rainbow was still there, fading as the rain died away, and as you were drawn towards its colours George spun you into it, catching you by the waist and bringing his lips to yours. Your mind was filled with fireworks, interlaced with that cosy cinnamon scent which had grown so familiar. He felt and tasted as warm as the sun which was starting to re-emerge, and as his hand came up and settled on your chin, thumb stroking across your cheek, you decided that the photo he'd just taken of the two of you would be going in pride of place on your mirror.

[captain-kit-adventuress]

No, mutual aid and general strikes are not the only shot left at staving those things off, but I don't have the bandwidth right now to spell out why.

We need an entire roster of solutions, of which mutual aid and general strikes can be a valuable part, because this is a multi-faceted problem, and honestly, if you're going to talk about leftist solutions to avoid violence, this is stuff you should know and already be involved with, or should at least be curious about researching in greater detail.

We are definitely not at the point yet where we need to be having the conversation about "it's this or violence!" I'm going to give the benefit of the doubt and assume no one here is advocating for accelerationism, because the Glorious Revolution is also not going to solve our problems, at least, not as currently portrayed.

Please know different ways of advocating for yourselves than just relying on neighbours and and strangers, and withholding labour. There is no point in going zero to sixty and missing out on all of the potential solutions in between.

One major, crucial step I haven't been seeing is calls for volunteers to help in building robust networks of support (even for mutual aid and/or striking), many of which already exist, and which a lot of leftists new to this sort of activism don't seem interested in doing. Ignoring that (beyond donating money, I mean) only sets up whatever mutual aid and general strike activity you have planned to fail. Mutual aid isn't going to get very far if there's no supply reserve (food, toilet paper, clean water, etc.) or solid network for distribution. And general strikes may actually be more dangerous now because it's looking like it will be very easy to get fired and you won't be able to rely on things like the NLRB and the EEOC and the DOL in general to back you up, which is when that mutual aid you haven't planned for becomes even more important so people aren't starving and homeless in the meantime.

A lot of the "solutions" I've seen proposed rely on normal channels to support them, but if you're going to go outside of the system, you have to first figure out how to do that without tanking the movement. Do you have a plan for if you can't use USPS, or UPS, or FedEx, or anyone else, for example, if normal package distribution channels fail (like if you need to send food or supplies to people who don't live close by)? And that's just one facet of providing larger-scale mutual aid. Do you have major networks in various cities to help support getting aid to the people who need it in rural areas, of which there are still an overwhelming amount in the US? Do you know how best to use a small amount of resources to make a big impact even if it's just in your local area, other than just having a plan in your head that's never been tested in the real world? Have you tried it when things are still accessible now or are you going to rely on making it up as you go along when push comes to shove, which puts a lot of the most vulnerable people you'll need to help in danger?

You don't start planning for this stuff when things are already bad, you get it in place as much as possible before then. I'm willing to bet that if anyone who wants to get involved mutual aid (like food banks as one existing example) or the labour movement would look beyond a simple internet search or their social media bubble, which trends toward echo chambers even under ideal conditions, they'll find that these resources already exist, or are at least being planned for, and they're perfectly happy for people to help but may need it in ways that don't seem obvious. That way, when push comes to shove, mutual aid and labour are already a well-oiled machine which can scale up--and the time for planning that is now, not the moment it's desperately needed--rather than getting off the ground in the first place.

Look for the helpers. Don't despair and assume that there's nothing between "things are bad and need to change" and "we're on the point of violence because things went bad so quickly." There need to be lots of points of entry to slowing this down, first.

votes don't influence policy, and now there's no way for anyone but 1% of the wealthiest to leverage buying power.

the only power anyone has left is withholding labor.

to do this we will absolutely require alternative sources of water and food.

if, as is so much more likely, everything falls apart, we will still need water and food.

Mutual Aid + General Strike are literally our only shot to stave off mass mayhem and aimless violence.

[messrsrarchives]

Hi, what is your opinion on hp fans still making Rowling’s books relevant by being in the fandom and talking about it? (For example hp has been 2nd most popular fandom on ao3. so this puts light on her work) I feel kind of guilty, like I'm a bad person for not being strong enough to let go of something I love for the benefit of marginalized groups. I'm not giving her money, but many people still say that's not enough and that I'm still supporting her just by making the hp fandom alive. I'm struggling. How do you deal with this?

i've spoken about this so much yes !!! it's such an Issue. my second (?) pinned video on tiktok talks about this a bit but i'll yap here too !

it's such a big part of why i'm always talking about jkr because i can be doing absolutely everything right, and i'm still complicit in it, yk? we're all Here. we're all keeping her relevant. that's why the reboot in particular is so frustrating because so many marauders creators on tiktok posted about it and it's like,,, oh. we can't avoid this.

so what Can we do? i think for me it's letting myself feeling that guilt? i think if you're feeling a certain amount of guilt, you're aware and you're on the right track. i wouldn't trust someone who doesn't feel a slight bit guilty engaging here tbh, especially right now.

harry potter is always going to be one of the biggest fandoms and this is where alllll the other discussions i've had comes into it !!! like yes, boycotting is great.

blowing up celebs comments? random people's comments? engaging on the official hp tiktok? posting your old merch? etc etc - all of this is Bad too. even if it seems like a bit of fun. all of that encourages engagement with her, especially when those celebs are then asked about it on the red carpet etc.

i think it's just about the least possible harm but yeah. that guilt hasn't really gone in my experience. i try,,,? like talking about it a lot helps but it's Hard. it's hard when i'm dealing with all these restrictions irl and then i come online and,,, engage with hp. the guilt hasn't really gone even if i'm doing the best i can.

but i do think if you're doing it Right. if you're keeping it in the fandom, if you're boycotting, if you're having these conversations? then you're doing the best you can.

but no yeah it's just a countdown to the reboot for me. the marauders fandom has 1000% benefitted her (hence the pandering) so i think a lot of us are just waiting to see the response to that and taking it as our cue to leave

so this isn't very positive i'm sorry !! you've caught me in one of my funks where i've spent the last week beating myself up about having a hp tiktok lols so it's a Lot Of Guilt right now, because it's undeniable that we keep her relevant.

but it's down to us on whether that relevance is good or not, you know?

[pinkmoondoll9shihtzu]

how could one become friends w/ you? <:o

Awh <3 Tha s so sweet.... Idrk.... Depends what u mean by friend ! i Consider A lot of Ppl on tumblr To be "my friend" Even tho most of them i've never Had a one-on-one convosation with.

Truthishly I Am Sorta Unreachable Cus The Internet Is Too Much for me--

By Default i am a pretty solitary person / private / Don't start a lot of conversations / Always been this way. and Well I Have been ONline for a LOng time, So there's all these ppl i know, Like so many effing people, More all the time, I can't rly keep up , I Know a lot of ppl wanna talk to me, and thats sweet, But i rly don't feel like talking that much, So when i do talk I Give priority to my old friends My 10+ Year friends Because i don't have To explain anything to them so its less draining Also they take up the most space in my heart (obvs)

I'm Legiterally just not a very social creature I Require a lot of time to live internal. i like tumblr cus I feel Like Ppl on here are my friends And we're All just having nice quiet parallel play-time "Ambient Friendships" i call it

i feel it is still possible For me to make new friends But it's a slow process A Gradual Warm-Up & I Have to feel some kind of unspoken Intuitive nudge towards U haha idk. I rly like ppl who take it slow Slowness helps me trust

Sorry this is probly not helpful at all LOL i appreciate u! idk how to exist. :hearttttt: pmd9

[entries-byemambo]

The LIs Going to the Nail Salon: A Headcanon

So after talking with my best friend @space-of-sk in our private thread on Discord cause our friends know we're crazy for this game, I was sitting at my salon today and thinking about how each LI would conduct themselves if they spent time at my salon. All they're asking for is a manicure and it ends up being my turn to service them. I don't know them nor do I know where they're from in terms of existing in a video game. This is for shits and giggles because being a nail tech is my day job that I consider a side hustle (because I'm actually an illustrator/artist!)

Xavier

First off, he would be in awe of how our salon is decorated. My manager decorates our space based on the passing seasons (since Valentine's is over, we're moving onto St. Patrick's Day!), so he'll definitely point that out to me. My manager is using green star shaped balloons for the decor so he'll definitely get a kick out of that just like I do, they're so cute and plump.

Because our salon is pretty big, calling for our clients when it's their turn can be a nightmare sometimes, and luckily for me, I'm calling his name multiple times because he is literally dozing off in the front lobby despite all the noise. When I finally get his attention, he's having a hard time understanding my directions to get to my station towards the back of the salon, so I'm gesturing him to just GET over here please because now everyone's staring at how awkward our interaction is.

I first gauge that he might not want to talk too much during the service since he's spending so much of that time looking around and being intrigued by all the stimuli going on (the machines, the pedicure stations, the clients chatting up a storm, did someone say they want a mimosa?), but after a few minutes, I ask him the basic questions: have you been here before? is this your first manicure? are you enjoying the session so far? what do you do for work?

Once this man starts going on and on and on about all the various side quests he has, I start trying to recognize the pattern (thank you ADHD) and while not being able to find one, I interrogate him about why he has so many job experiences despite being so young. But once I realized that it is inappropriate to ask someone that out of the blue at the drop of the hat, I change the conversation by asking him if he plans on eating anything after our session is over. Which is how I learned that he burned breakfast earlier and opted for hot pot for the fifth time that week.

Zayne

Although he works overtime at a hospital, I feel like people underestimate the stimuli in my salon: the volume, the smell of the various chemicals, the chatter, it's ultimately very overwhelming for many people (just from me asking clients for the many years I've been working at this place). I think he would first try to block out as much of the noise by listening to his own music, which after getting his attention and working on his nails in the meantime, we can both listen to our own music at our own leisure.

However, I notice just how incredibly stiff this man is while I'm working on his service, which is common amongst many of my clients who work in these very strenuous occupations (medical, corporate, etc.). The concept of "relaxing" is simply out of their grasp so I know that I have to gentle parent them into relaxing as much as they can, especially because so many of them don't even realize that they're doing it in the first place.

Once I'm able to get Zayne's attention by softly tapping his hands, at first, he'll tense up even more out of confusion, but after informing him about relaxing in a playful manner, he realizes what he's doing and eventually releases his tension. After attempting to make small talk and hope that I can make him more comfortable by distracting him through conversation, I learn about his cardiac surgeon experience, while gives him an avenue to yap about his medical experience. I also take this opportunity to ask him questions I have about the medical practice, which helps him further relax in an unfamiliar space.

Rafayel

First off, having someone so luxurious at my salon would intimidate me right away because why are you here in my presence? I feel honored, not gonna lie. And immediately take him in for the service. He would definitely ask me about my tools and what they're all used for, since I have experience of many male clients who ask such questions to familiarize themselves with the foreign environment they're in. After asking him what he does for a living, I immediately tell him about also being an artist, which becomes our main point of interest during the session.

What kind of materials do you use for your painting? Have you tackled digital art before? I'm also traditionally trained and became an artist ever since I was young. I also enjoy nature as my muse and main subject, but I haven't tackled ocean or water before in my work. How did you discover the ocean and aquatic life to be your main focus? Oh, you're from an area close to the ocean? That's really cool!

And with a little nudge, he asks me if I do designs on nails (quick answer: yes, but not all the crazy stuff and not every single time I come to work because it's very tedious!) After asking him if he wanted to do his nails today, with an excited nod, I smile and open my Pinterest app so we can get started on what he'd like on his nails. We went with some chrome line art with a more cool toned color palette consisting of blues and purple. This man ends up skipping to his car in the parking lot after paying and bidding me goodbye.

Sylus

Again, why is such a luxurious man doing here in my salon and I'm honored but scared? After he puts his coat on the back of his chair and tries to sit comfortably, our legs are definitely bumping each other under the table because of how tall this man is. It sounds cute but no, it actually sends chills down my spine because holy shit I'm so sorry, I'm not trying to play footsies with you. And then I'm tense as fuck trying to keep myself from touching him unnecessarily.

He definitely picks up on my tension and actually starts the conversation first, asking me how long I've been working here and if I'm from the area. After realizing that he's just trying to make me more comfortable, I start to ease up and answer his questions, asking him if he's from the area and what he does for a living.

This man sells fruit? Well ok then LOL. I'm thinking in my head because with that face card? Please. Keeping myself from trying to make corny jokes, I keep myself from asking further about his job, moving on to asking if he has any hobbies he engages with in his free time. When I heard that he's a collector, we then talk about music and the like. Realizing that this man is not only charming, but sassy without even trying amuses me, and allows me to finish his service with no issues. AND THIS MAN TIPPED ME $200 DOLLARS ON A $37 TAB??? I THOUGHT YOU SELL FRUIT?

Caleb

He to me, would be the most amusing and fun to work with. Not only does it seem like he knows his way around the salon, but he immediately starts a conversation a few minutes after we sit down and start the process. I have no problem answering any of his curious questions, since he's asking from a genuine place. I then learn that he has a female friend that grew up alongside him as a family member, always smiling while talking about her when he talks about the past.

After some moments, I'm getting suspicious and ask him if he likes her at all. Noticing how his ears got red and he's trying to change the subject because I asked straight liquor, no chaser, I immediately shut up while scolding myself because why you being so vô duyên (iykyk). But then my ears immediately perk up to "it's that obvious, huh?"

HELL YEAH BOY. And then I immediately start doing what I do best: this man spills everything about how much he likes this girl and how much she means to him. To which I'm just there like "ASK HER OUT, YOU DOOFUS?" Of course, there he goes again worried about ruining the relationship they currently have and not wanting to cross boundaries. Or that's what I thought until he shows me a picture of them at his graduation with her kissing him on the cheek like ok girl...(endearingly cause go get your girl)

[7975348473]

Who Needs a Father When You Have Brothers?

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CH- 2

Jameson met each of his brothers gazes before sighing in defeat. He whipped out his phone, found the message and slid the phone across the table; towards them. Had this been another normal day, Jameson would have been slightly angered by the silent defeat. But today was, unfortunately, not a normal day. This happened to be Jameson's birthday, which was going terribly, he got a stupid ass message from his biological father and his heiress was out of town. A unique day indeed.

Nash grabbed the phone and showed it to each of his brothers.

A, much appreciated, silence followed.

"Jamie. Are you-" Nash started

"Yes. I am absolutely fine. I am ravishing actually, because, incase you haven't realized, its my birthday big brother, I am great." Jameson grimaced the moment he finished. He had screwed up.

Too many adjectives, too many synonyms for 'Good', god I am on edge today-

Jameson felt Grayson's peculiar glare on him, which can be quite exposing if you let it.

"Can you try to spew anything but lies today?" Said Grayson.

"That's right, I heard somewhere that lying on your birthday leads to bad headaches. " Came Xander's reply. His nonsense was much appreciated today.

"Speak, Jamie." A demand from the oldest Hawthorne.

Welp, its either give in or get a spanking. Might as well try to divert.

"Look, I know I have a way with words, but I am as bad at expressing myself as Xander is, going without scones for a day."

"People shouldn't have to go without scones for a day brother and you know it."

"Debatable, Xander."

"Mind elaborating?"

"Well, for starters, scones are relatively unhealthy. So eating them daily cannot be good for you. Sorry to break it to you."

Xander gave a dramatic gasp before stating, "Well brother. If we were to go-"

Grayson gave Xander a tiny nudge with his elbow and shot him a glare while Nash just sighed.

"OW! What did I do?- OH!! I SEE WHAT U DID THERE- Smart move Winchester."

Welp, it was worth a shot. Thought Jameson.

"Would you try to make this easier for all of us?" Came Grayson's retort, leaving behind none of his usual sharpness.

"Whatever do you mean, Gray?" Smiled Jameson. He met Grayson's eyes. A Question. A Challenge.

Lets see if I break today Gray, try me.

Grayson let his glare rest on Jameson's face for a long while. "You know exactly what I mean, dimwit."

"Well, its no secret that I am good at reading you, Gray. But it seems I am too tired to read between the lines today." Replied Jameson.

Grayson rolled his eyes, "Well let me save you the trouble, Jamie. Just what the fuck is going through that dumbass brain of yours?"

"Oh ho- you kiss Lyra with that mouth?" 

"Would you stop diverting the fucking conversation?"

"I was asking a genuine question."

"How the hell did you manage to bring up Lyra in this conversation?"

"She's my soon-to-be-sister-in-law, of course I can bring her up in any conversation that has something to do with you."

"He has a point." Intervened Xander.

"Shut up, Xander, no one asked."

"Rude."

"Yeah, why are you being so rude to the youngest? Cut him some slack." Said Jameson, bringing a hand to Xander's thigh.

"Yeah! I can always go tell Gran. I am her favourite." Said Xander.

"Whose side are you on Xander?" Said Grayson, his voice as sharp as a knife.

"I was on yours until you asked me, Alexander Blackwood Hawthorne, to shut up. Me, Gray. Really?" Replied Xander, lacking no dramatic flair.

Jameson snorted before nodding in agreement.

"Xander, have you seriously forgotten why we're here in the first place?" Asked Grayson, obviously exasperated.

"Oh, don't try to fish him back to your side now. I am his favorite brother." Said Jameson, looking to Xander for confirmation.

"Uh- well- that's not necessarily true in all cases." said Xander, awkwardly flashing Jameson a smile.

"Okay. Ouch. Direct hit little brother. I have taught you well." Said Jameson. At this Grayson snorted.

"Actually, your heiress taught me that." Replied Xander, confidently.

"See, you're useless Jameson." Said Grayson.

"And he successfully diverted you too, Gray. Commendable effort Jamie, I must say, you almost got us all there." Said Nash, finally joining in on his brothers' chaos.

Grayson sent Jameson another glare upon realizing his defeat.

Victory. Sweet as hell. 

Nash stared Jameson up and down, calculating his next move before he continued, "You're not going to give in that easily are you, little brother? "

Jameson shot Nash a crooked smile in reply.

"Then lets do this the Hawthorne way. We'll play a game. If you win, Jamie, we will allow you to continue sulking in your corner. No cars. No adrenaline-boosting activities. But we won't push for answers." Said Nash, his voice full of authority, a voice no one could say no to.

"But if one of us wins, you will have to give us all the answers we want." Finished Nash.

Both Grayson and Xander nodded in agreement.

"Well, the chances do seem to be a bit unfairly tipped towards your side, don't they brother?" Asked Jameson, innocently.

"Are you saying you might lose? "Asked Grayson, a single eyebrow raised.

Jameson turned his head to face Grayson and shot him a wicked grin. "Never."

"Right. In order to make it up to you, Jamie, you choose the game." Said Nash, fixing his collar.

Jameson thought for a good moment. He glanced at each of his brothers one by one and he noticed one thing.

Each of his brothers were unusually under-dressed today. Even Grayson.

 Each of his brothers were now staring at him, anticipation clear on their face. Jameson smirked and met their gazes. His brothers immediately understood.

"Strip-Bowling."

[thatonebirdwrites]

How to Make a Safety/Harm Reduction Plan with Trans Kids

Friend asked me on how to help her trans kid. I couldn't find a good guide for this, especially with states like Iowa stripping us of our rights.

I want to be clear that this should not be done without the child's input. Always, always trust the kid to understand and always give them the chance to participate. There are ways to adjust the language for the age of the child, and children often have creative ideas when given the chance to participate. The goal here is to give the child the tools to help them thrive, okay? Thanks for understanding.

So without further ado, here's steps on how to help trans kids navigate all of this.

1. Identify safe groups where the child can be themself. Remember, the child likely will have ideas on who to ask. So be sure to ask the child who they trust for this conversation.

NOTE: Talk with those on the "trusted" list and/or leaders of the trusted groups and verify they will defend the kid's right to be themself and support them. (Child doesn't necessarily have to be present for this, but let the child know how it went to ease anxiety.)

2. Identify which friends are safe and will honor their pronouns. Again, the child will have ideas on this too. Make a list together!

3. Sit down with the kid and explain this process.

(For my friend, I shared with them how I also wrote up a safety plan and harm reduction plan on how to navigate an increasingly hostile society such as my state stripping me of my civil rights. Having examples of others who have done this can help solidify the need and make it more approachable and less scary).

4. Share the list of groups and people who support the kid and will have their back 100%. (Be ready to hold those people accountable as a behind-the-scenes thing). Ask the kid if there are others they think you should work with to get them on board. Add them to the "talk to" part of the list."

5. Build a harm reduction and safety plan with the kid. This includes:

Talk about how to handle strangers in public spaces in a way that avoids too much misgendering but also keeps the kid safe. (Maybe use only their name and avoid pronouns entirely for instance).

Talk about how to handle medical professionals who are not known for being trans-friendly; how in those instances the kid will be wearing a "costume" as a safety strategy where they pretend to be x gender.

Talk about parks, stores, and other public spaces.

Talk about how to handle when meeting new people. How to test the water to see if it is safe to take off the 'x gender costume' or not.

6. Make sure the kid signs off on the harm reduction and safety plan, and that they feel included in it. Try to make it fun by drawing out scenarios, and explaining how sometimes we have to act like we're in a play for that scenario. We put on our "costume of x gender" and act out a play. Then when we are out of that scenario, we can take off our "costume of x gender" and enjoy being ourselves again around our safe groups and people.

(I'll write this up as a blogpost eventually. But for now, wanted to put it out there for folks to think about since transphobia and anti-trans legislation and policies are ramping up again. Please share any tips or resources you know of that can help!)