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marriage of convenience that slowly turns into a love marriage - but both of them believe is one sided is such a delicious trope

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too many movies have been ruined by not casting ugly people

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They hate me for my redundancies. And also for my tendency to say the same thing but in slightly different ways. And for my repetition of phrases. And for my redundancies.

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mclaren being the only team to hideously welcome brad pitt to drive one of their cars is just another reason why they need to explode and revert back to fighting backmarkers imminently

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Nico Rosberg and Michael Schumacher dynamics you will always be dear to me (derogatory)

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source

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Literal definition of spyware:

Also From Microsoft’s own FAQ: "Note that Recall does not perform content moderation. It will not hide information such as passwords or financial account numbers. 🤡

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make oscar cry!

carcar daemon au 🤷‍♀️

When Oscar was a little kid, someone tried to perform an intercision on him and Tegan. A proselytizer on a footpath with a scalpel and a scratchy coat. He doesn’t remember it hurting, but he remembers his mum screaming.

They’ve got a partial bond now. Tegan’s a chinchilla, because it’s what she was when it happened. She’s kind of—flat. Not flat like Oscar is flat, not a masking sort of flat, but like there’s not much to her. Like she’s a real chinchilla, like she’s just an echo. Sometimes she asks how he is, since she can’t tell. He’ll say he’s all good or not great and either way she’ll stare uncomprehendingly. Her fur is so soft but never warm.

Carlos’s daemon is fucking weird for two reasons. One: she never settled so she’ll flit between forms: meerkat, cheetah, ocelot, dove. Two: she talks to other people.

The first time it happens is before a presser. Tegan’s trembling on Oscar’s lap, a side effect of their severed bond. A woman’s voice says, “I can help her.”

He assumes it’s a PA offering a hot water bottle or something, but he looks up from his phone and no one is there. Then Carlos hisses a reprimanding whip of sound between his tongue and teeth: zzt, and a sphinx cat reluctantly slithers back to him from Oscar’s feet, as hairless as Carlos’s own stupid arms.

When he mentions it to Lando, disturbed, Lando just says, “Yeah, Bella’s like that.”

She offers to help again as a frog, a pigeon, and a monkey.

The monkey one is the worst, because she touches Tegan. Tegan’s sleeping in the kangaroo pocket of Oscar’s hoodie, and Bella reaches her little monkey hand inside. “Let me help.”

It would be awkward to reply to someone else’s daemon when he barely even speaks to his own, so Oscar says nothing. He just sits there in hospitality letting someone else’s monkey stroke his pocket chinchilla and none of it is a fucking euphemism at all.

And then Carlos runs in, a security guard trying to stop him, looking fucking insane—sweaty and panting with drugged out pupils. He says, “Do you feel?”

“Do I feel what?” Oscar demands, voice too high, feeling only exposed.

“Nothing.” Carlos snatches up Bella and runs out. Her long arm snakes around Carlos’s retreating back and waves goodbye.

Lando says, “Okay, she isn’t usually like that.”

During summer break, Carlos calls to say, “Bella wants to fix your bond.”

Oscar blinks. He’d assumed the call would be GPDA related. “Tell Bella to get in line, mate.”

“She can,” Carlos argues. “I know she can. Come over.”

It’s—cruel, actually. It’s fucked up to get his hopes up about the thing every first and second and sixteenth opinion daemon specialist has said is unfixable. But Oscar goes anyway.

Tegan shakes in his arms the whole walk there.

When he answers the door, Carlos says, “Get in the bath with me.” He strips off his shirt, steps out of his pants.

“Did you claim to have the power to cure my incurable condition just to get me naked?” Oscar inquires.

Carlos waggles his eyebrows lasciviously, but just says, “No.”

Bella is already in the bath. She’s an axolotl.

“She can regenerate the bond,” Carlos explains, scrambling into the tub with a slosh. “We have been practicing, to know. I didn’t want to say this to you until it was clear, until we knew for sure. We bought one of these severing scalpels on the dark web.”

Every syllable out of his mouth is more brain-fucked than the last. “You’ve been severing your bond?”

“No, just little cuts.” Carlos demonstrates by reaching out and running his fingernail over Oscar’s hand in little shivery lines. “Cut, cut. She can heal them. She can. Get in.”

Heart racing, clumsy with Tegan in his arms, Oscar shrugs off his clothes down to his boxer briefs like Carlos.

Carlos has body hair this week. He says, “You have many moles.”

Oscar climbs in the water. “If this doesn’t work, I’m drowning you.”

“I have to hold her.”

“Tegan?”

“Yes. We must stretch the bond in the water so Bella can see. Chinchillas cannot swim. I looked it up.”

Oscar’s stomach churns.

“Oscar, Oscar. It will be okay, yes? It is okay. Let me hold her.” Carlos looks manic and he already admitted to using the dark web, but for some psycho reason, Oscar hugs Tegan tight and hands her over.

Carlos gasps. “Okay, okay. Bella.”

Bella swims back and forth between Oscar and Tegan, doing her unknown daemon magic. She and Carlos speak rapid Spanish and Carlos continuously pets Tegan’s fur.

“Okay, okay. Oscar? Oscar, are you ready?”

Oscar squeezes his eyes shut. “You better not be fucking with me. If you’re fucking with me, I’m going to—”

Carlos gently places Tegan back into his arms and she’s—

Warm. Warm and alive and staring and thinking and feeling and he can feel her.

“What,” he says, sobbing and stupid, “what, what?”

Carlos and Bella—now a bright green bird with an orange face—leave them in the bathroom and shut the door.

Oscar feels and cries and Tegan says, “He’s in love with you.”

Oscar laughs, high on her, giddy. “Yeah, sure.”

“No, I could feel it. When he held me.”

“He was hard?” Oscar asks.

“No, I could—oh my god.” Then Tegan’s laughing and he’s laughing and they’re googling what lovebirds look like.

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They should do a grill the grid that's just minutia from the regulations, with a bonus round on 2026 regs to see who's on their toes, and at first it seems like it's just cutting between George and Max for drama but slowly it becomes obvious none of the other drivers had to do this round, it's just them and at the end they're both told this as the video holds a split screen of their reactions for an uncomfortably long time. Even the producer is eerily quiet. One of them asks "how'd he do?" The strain to remain casual burns in your ears.

Cut to black.

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Haki the Shetland Pony (1968) written by Kathleen Fidler, illustrated by Victor G. Ambrus

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The devil is a twink named luke

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and what are we going to do when the HP series comes out and we start seeing a resurgence of the fandom here including gifsets and fics. like are u guys gonna bring up your neurodivergence and cry "can we separate the art from the artist!!!!! you dont need to pay to watch it!!!!!its my comfort show and I'm DEPRESSED and AUTISTIC"

what then

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everyone that commits less murders than me is a talentless coward & everyone that commits more murders than me is a bloodthirsty maniac