#i don't even know what to tag this

[monstersflashlight]

I desesperately need a snow/cold kind of monster to appear in my room and cool it down until I can sleep comfortably.

[scuderia-hamilton]

most of the drivers' reactions to the whole Horner situation is so disappointing tbh. what do you mean someone in the paddock, an employee gets harassed by one of the top figures in the sport and your reaction is either "it has nothing to do with me", or "no comment", "i just like cars and i want to drive", "it's noise and distraction", "i'm here to race", and "it's a good thing for the media", "it doesn't affect me", "i don't really have an interest".

why is it so hard to care about something other than your racing career? you gotta have some morals, dude. not caring about women's safety in your oh so beloved sport is some fucked up behaviour. in situations like this it really shows how fucking privileged they are and it's honestly repulsive.

this is precisely why Lewis is always the one being asked about any non-sport related topic. because he's the only one who cares and gives honest and nuanced answers. genuinely terrified of what this sport will become when he retires, cause no one will speak out on anything.

and then people wonder why we say that f1 is not a safe place for women and that misogyny is still very much a thing in the sport? men don't care, including the president of the fia and f1, the other team principals and most of the drivers as well. when the faces of the sport clearly don't give a shit about women, what kind of hope is there?

they can talk about equality and progressive values and promoting women in motorsports, when this is the reality of how they actually treat the women working in the sport. imagine how that poor woman is feeling, seeing how much the drivers care about what she's going through. utterly disrespectful, with no compassion or empathy.

f1 needs to do so much better.

[homoqueerjewhobbit]

RIP to the thousands of people who died because UHC denied them care.

[syrus-sillies]

[unhealthyfanobsession]

You already know what I'm here to ask about.... 😈 Oops, wrong mate (for Rhysta Weekend ...)

How did I know who would ask for this one??? Extra long snippet just for you (also, someone is going to have to bully me into finishing this on time so consider yourself officially appointed)

(This is a safe space, right? RIGHT!!!)

_____

In the centre of a throne room painted in his family’s blood, feet sopping wet with the remnants of Elain’s mortality, Rhysand stumbled backwards with a realization that threatened to cleave reality in two.

He had been wrong. Cassian had been wrong. They had all been so horribly wrong. 

The truth slid like bloodied bones through paper thin skin to click horribly out of place. In the moment that Nesta spilled out onto the floor of Hybern’s throne room, everything and nothing made sense. Power swirling around her in thick clouds of charcoal grey that reached out misty hands to slice through the night-slicked plumes of black emanating off of Rhys’ own body.

Like called to like.

Power called to power.

Equals.

Mates were equals in all things. The bond did not take into account that sometimes opposition was exactly what a person needed. The bond did not care that Nesta and Rhys were broken and cracked and twisted in all of the wrong ways to ever be melded together. The bond did not care that Feyre and Cassian were both so horribly prone to self sacrifice that they would rush into war and bloodshed without a second thought. That they would never speak of anything that upset the other if they could help it.

Nesta and Rhysand would tear each other limb from limb.

Cassian and Feyre would suffocate under all the complaints they would never voice. 

The cauldron did not care. And how stupid Rhys had been to forget that. Forget what this was, what he had seen over and over again. The mating bond saw only power. Cared for only power. The strongest offspring. That was its only goal.

When a human girl who had always been a soldier gripped her fists around night dark power that turned her into a warrior … it was not the High Lord of Night that she was bound to. It was the one warrior in this world’s history who could raise and lead armies with the might and skill that she could.

When a death goddess emerged, body dripping in magic, it was not the Lord of Bloodshed she was bound to. It was the one male in this world’s history that could make kings and queens kneel with the same cursed power that she carved out with her very teeth.

Cassian only put the pieces together when he saw Rhys’  horrified expression. And it was wrong. It was so so wrong in every way. It was everything twisted and awful and dangerous about the mating bond. It was Rhys’ mother and father slowly breaking each other down. It was Tamlin’s parents turning their son into what he became.

The mating bond was bullshit.

Absolute bullshit that could not be abided by…

But Rhysand and Cassian were not stupid males. 

War was coming. And power like that… it pulled them up.

And it made too much sense to ignore. 

[hashtagarting]

I can't believe I forgot to post loop's plane adventures. Something something stars up in the sky.

[litany-writes]

NEW VOLTRON IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 2025?????

[deelavis]

Ganguro Near warm-up cause sometimes it fun to draw something really dumb

He does his own acrylics

[theladyofshalott1989]

Sebastian Sallow: Emotional Support Person

I was bored, so I wrote this. 🤣

Synopsis: Three days ago, a letter came in the mail informing you that a fictional character has been assigned to you as your Emotional Support Person. The catch? It's the last Hogwarts Legacy character whose POV you wrote in. Good luck. 🫡

Word Count: 805

"Do get up, Corinne! The sound coming from that device of yours is positively horrific."

I groaned, tossing the duvet back over my head to block out both the light and the fictional, very freckled boy looming over my bed.

It was Day Three of Sebastian Sallow as my so-called Emotional Support Person, and I was not doing well.

A hand - far too real for someone who shouldn't exist - gripped the duvet and yanked.

"Hey!" I yelped, clutching the edge in a losing battle. "You can't just do that! What if I was naked? That's very uncool."

"You're not naked." He was, in fact, correct. "You go to bed in Christmas-themed Slytherin pyjamas." Also, very correct. "You think I don't know this by now?"

"Whatever," I scoffed, rolling my eyes as I draped my legs over the side of the bed.

I spared a glance at my husband, who was now very much awake. He yawned, shrugged, as if to say, "What can you do? He's a teenage boy," then rolled onto his side, grabbed his phone from the nightstand, and started scrolling like none of this was even remotely strange.

I couldn't blame him. He'd been pretending Sebastian wasn't following me around like an exceptionally annoying younger sibling with no sense of boundaries since yesterday and, honestly, I was a little envious. I'd tried the same tactic, but Sebastian had retaliated by belting out the Hogwarts school song at full volume, a move that had me contemplating calling the police. So apparently, the silent treatment was not an option.

"I'm up now. Happy?" I said, shutting out his mumbled, "Finally," as I shuffled over to my dresser, grabbed some clothes, then threw them all on in the bathroom with the door firmly closed and locked behind me.

I yelled loud enough to be heard, "If you want to be useful, go wake up The Child™."

The Child™ being my four-year-old daughter. My four-year-old daughter who loved Sebastian. Naturally. To be fair, this was definitely my fault, as she'd grown up hearing all my stories about Sebastian and Damien. Only the safe-for-work bits. I'm not that terrible of a mother.

Surprisingly, Sebastian seemed to like her too. Not that I ever left him alone with her. Because… well, he'd done some highly questionable things. He was dangerous, blah blah blah. And we couldn't have that.

All dressed and at least somewhat presentable for the day, I wandered back over to my husband, planted a kiss on his forehead, then stepped out of our bedroom with a sigh.

"Mommy, look! A snake!"

Oh, a snake, yes. That made perfect sense...

Wait. Shit. No, it absolutely did not.

I raced into her room, only to, thankfully, sigh with relief. Sebastian had conjured my daughter a stuffed snake. Not a real one. She was currently hugging it to her chest as he stood above her, a cheeky smirk on his face.

"Because she didn't have enough stuffed animals already?" I asked, sweeping my arms out wide, indicating the army of toys littering the floor of her room.

"She didn't have a snake though!"

I wandered over to the toy box to my right and lifted the lid, drawing out not one, not two, but three stuffed snakes.

"She's a self-proclaimed Slytherin, Bash. Of course she has snakes."

"Ah, my mistake."

I rolled my eyes. Yes, again. What was I going to do with this insufferable boy?

Meanwhile, my daughter had shut off her rain sound device and promptly turned off the light as she toddled out of the room, leaving Sebastian and me blinking at each other in the dark.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "I presume that means she's ready for breakfast?"

"Yup!" I called over my shoulder as I exited the bedroom.

Hmm, would today be a waffles or a muffins kind of day?

Sebastian's voice sliced through my line of thought. "If I may make a request for breakfast..."

"You may not."

"Fine."

A beat.

"Yes?" I asked, already regretting it.

"Well, I know you already said no, but I could really go for a full English breakfast. Eggs, bacon, the works. I'd even settle for beans if you're feeling generous."

I glowered at him, blinking slowly, hoping he might vanish if I stared hard enough. No such luck. He was still standing there, looking far too pleased with himself.

So, it was going to be like that then. A battle of the wills. Two could play that game, even though it was far too early for this nonsense.

I glowered some more.

"You'd starve me?" he finally said.

I sighed dramatically. "You can have waffles or muffins, like the rest of us Americans."

Sebastian frowned. "If I perish, tell Ominis it was the muffins."

God, today was going to be a long day.

[fordtato]

I'm just going to say, as a trans person who has just finished visiting their traditionally cultural immigrant family, it's hard.

It's hard because as much as it feels like I've needed to leave parts of myself at home and fit myself into a box to be at peace with my family, I've realized there are parts I leave here with them every time I leave.

It's hard because being accepting of queer identity is not at all mutually exclusive to my family's culture, but they're convinced it is, and l don't know how to explain otherwise.

It's hard because just like I feel like they'll never understand my queerness, my queer white friends at home will never understand my roots, and BOTH refuse to recognize my whole.

It's hard because I miss my family. I miss their food. I miss their warmth. I miss their inside jokes and their knowing glances and their 20 kisses on each cheek to say hello and goodbye.

But while I was there it was like I was in cosplay. It was an uncomfortable facsimile of someone else, one that I couldn't wait to shed at the end of the day.

I'm leaving my childhood home right now, and heading back to the home I've built. And as I slip back into my own skin, it just feels I'm forgetting a part of my soul.

[loadinghellsing]

have you ever watched twilight? >:3

[nexelart]

more delusional durge x echo x gortash sketches

[theshepherdshound]

i have debated saying this for a few days as i still dunno fully how this website works, but considering i've been writing a fic about it for months and how this week has gone i think some folks need to hear it right now

you are not above doing terrible things to survive, and the worse boundaries you have the more likely it is you will whether it's by choice or not. your desire to survive and your fear can be used against you as a siren song to convince you at minimum that being complacent isn't violence if you are currently not othered

not doing something is a choice, and it is a violent one.

this is not a moral distinction it's a horrifying truth- anyone backed into a corner will make choices to survive; you, me, anyone. history shows this- that's the point of dividing folks. kick the guilt about it out and prepare for actually dealing with it if you haven't already

if you struggle with saying no, if you struggle with lying on the behalf of others' safety, if you struggle with denying authority; go practice, right now, with friends if you can. make it a game; how fast can you reply, how long can you ramble, time yourself and whoever ranks highest gets a cookie

if you have a wedge of privilege learn to use it as noncompliance; weaponize incompetence, cry on demand, become forgetful, escort folks, give bad directions, use privilege as an annoyance

if you have resources; do research, share resources and knowledge, help folks with paperwork, provide sanctuary, watch folks kids or pets if needed, volunteer your time or give money, learn new skills and teach them to each other

and spread joy- i mean this so seriously; make music together, share food with your neighbours, dance together, have your favourite tea, make jokes, be silly, play games together, get a penpal. starve out doom with joy

there is no other, there is only us

don't comply in advance, keep up to date on what is happening, learn to meet folks in your community where they are and work on coalition building skills, download signal to start talking to folks, travel together and keep tabs on one another. choose a thing and do it, trying to do all of the things at once will burn you out. Someone does phone calls, another keeps the spreadsheets up to date, so on

folks probably ain going to like this suggestion, but read Conflict Is Not Abuse and reframe how you might approach boundary and solidarity building within community- don't do the labour of division

i want you to survive, to be safe, stranger who reads this- and i love you; if you feel alone right now there is one stranger out in the world who wants you to survive, and we survive together

[nanaluvbug]

i ordered 8 (eight) bananas on instacart ... driver brought 8 bunches

now i'm an elementary school math problem. if i wanted 8 bananas but received 49, how many extra bananas do i have in my house? this is a looney tunes situation. this feels like a racist amount of bananas.

[bloodofvalyria]

NONE OF THE THOUGHTS IM HAVING ARE GOOD

[romanticiseadarkcity]

*taking photos of the pedestrian accessibility of an area for my urban design project*

some guy on a mobility scooter showcasing how accessible it is: I love you