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patron saint of the lonely and desperate

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A bird explaining to a hedgehog crossing so it doesn’t die.

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presenting: my 2023 year of reading queer literature (part 1).

next few months focus will be on sapphic books, so swing over some recommendations!

enjoy my funky commentary, im in a weird mood. all my opinions!

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i made a quiz that tells you which aftg character you are based on random questions that give me a vibe!

possible results:

Allison, Andrew, Nicky, Neil, Aaron, Seth, Matt, Dan, Renee, or Kevin

some of the answers are blunt

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That Rolling Stone article about Chappell Roan... the bits about the shit she went through are already wild, but what really gets me is when the article starts listing. every. single. singer. who reached out to her, worried, to commiserate, to give tips, to agree that the harassment of fame is indeed hell. I'm like. "So y'all agree?? All of y'all agree being famous is horrible???" Good LORD.

Fellow stars have reached out to see if she’s OK. Charli XCX was one of the first to do so (..). Eilish has been keeping tabs on Roan (...). Hayley Williams DM’d her, offering to chat with Roan anytime. Katy Perry told her to never read the comments. Lorde gave her a helpful list of things to do at an airport to fly under the radar. The band Muna hosted her for dinner. Miley Cyrus invited her to a party. Lady Gaga has passed along her phone number (...). Roan went on walks and grabbed coffees with Lucy Dacus and Julien Baker. Their boygenius bandmate Phoebe Bridgers came over to Roan’s just to hang, commiserating on how fandom behavior has become increasingly “abusive and violent.” Sabrina Carpenter, who’s also had a shockingly massive year, suggested they meet up and unpack their summers. “We’re both going through something so fucking hard … she just feels like everything is flying, and she’s just barely hanging on,” Roan says. “It was just good to know someone else feels that way.” Backstage at the Vic Theatre in Chicago, Roan flashes her phone to show a lengthy email from Mitski she received that morning. “I just wanted to humbly welcome you to the shittiest exclusive club in the world, the club where strangers think you belong to them and they find and harass your family members,” it reads.

I?? MEAN???

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Chai tea bag + lil but of brown sugar + apple cider packet + 16 oz. mug of hot but not quite boiling water

it will not Fix You but like. maybe. maybe.

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Ofc no, tianlang jun said, go on i dont mind, what a carefree father

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From a queer elder…

Being queer isn’t supposed to be palatable to non-queers.

We don’t tick little squares on a checklist of “queer enough”, we obliterate the checklist.

We defy societal norms that say our bodies, families or relationships have to look a certain way.

Queer is the insult we took away from oppressors. We’re here, we’re queer, get used to it.

The people who hate us will hate us regardless of how palatable we make ourselves.

Stop licking fascist boots by policing queers who are queer in different ways than you.

Oh, someone is bi/pan trans lesbian with he/him pronouns? So what! They’re welcome on the rainbow. Their identity doesn’t have to make sense to you, it has to make sense to them.

Our identities don’t make sense to non-queers. They see us as unnatural and disgusting, so why are you turning around and crapping that same garbage out at your own community??

Once you drive the visible queers underground, the same people who hate us all will target you next. Nobody will defend you because you drove away everybody who would have.

Enough already!

— sincerely, an old queer.

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no more humanity for me im just this guy forever:

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thinking about anastasia trusova paintings again

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Please make a post about the story of the RMS Carpathia, because it's something that's almost beyond belief and more people should know about it.

Carpathia received Titanic’s distress signal at 12:20am, April 15th, 1912. She was 58 miles away, a distance that absolutely could not be covered in less than four hours.

(Californian’s exact position at the time is…controversial. She was close enough to have helped. By all accounts she was close enough to see Titanic’s distress rockets. It’s uncertain to this day why her crew did not respond, or how many might not have been lost if she had been there. This is not the place for what-ifs. This is about what was done.)

Carpathia’s Captain Rostron had, yes, rolled out of bed instantly when woken by his radio operator, ordered his ship to Titanic’s aid and confirmed the signal before he was fully dressed. The man had never in his life responded to an emergency call. His goal tonight was to make sure nobody who heard that fact would ever believe it.

All of Carpathia’s lifeboats were swung out ready for deployment. Oil was set up to be poured off the side of the ship in case the sea turned choppy; oil would coat and calm the water near Carpathia if that happened, making it safer for lifeboats to draw up alongside her. He ordered lights to be rigged along the side of the ship so survivors could see it better, and had nets and ladders rigged along her sides ready to be dropped when they arrived, in order to let as many survivors as possible climb aboard at once.

I don’t know if his making provisions for there still being survivors in the water was optimism or not. I think he knew they were never going to get there in time for that. I think he did it anyway because, god, you have to hope.

Carpathia had three dining rooms, which were immediately converted into triage and first aid stations. Each had a doctor assigned to it. Hot soup, coffee, and tea were prepared in bulk in each dining room, and blankets and warm clothes were collected to be ready to hand out. By this time, many of the passengers were awake–prepping a ship for disaster relief isn’t quiet–and all of them stepped up to help, many donating their own clothes and blankets.

And then he did something I tend to refer to as diverting all power from life support.

Here’s the thing about steamships: They run on steam. Shocking, I know; but that steam powers everything on the ship, and right now, Carpathia needed power. So Rostron turned off hot water and central heating, which bled valuable steam power, to everywhere but the dining rooms–which, of course, were being used to make hot drinks and receive survivors. He woke up all the engineers, all the stokers and firemen, diverted all that steam back into the engines, and asked his ship to go as fast as she possibly could. And when she’d done that, he asked her to go faster.

I need you to understand that you simply can’t push a ship very far past its top speed. Pushing that much sheer tonnage through the water becomes harder with each extra knot past the speed it was designed for. Pushing a ship past its rated speed is not only reckless–it’s difficult to maneuver–but it puts an incredible amount of strain on the engines. Ships are not designed to exceed their top speed by even one knot. They can’t do it. It can’t be done.

Carpathia’s absolute do-or-die, the-engines-can’t-take-this-forever top speed was fourteen knots. Dodging icebergs, in the dark and the cold, surrounded by mist, she sustained a speed of almost seventeen and a half.

No one would have asked this of them. It wasn’t expected. They were almost sixty miles away, with icebergs in their path. They had a responsibility to respond; they did not have a responsibility to do the impossible and do it well. No one would have faulted them for taking more time to confirm the severity of the issue. No one would have blamed them for a slow and cautious approach. No one but themselves.

They damn near broke the laws of physics, galloping north headlong into the dark in the desperate hope that if they could shave an hour, half an hour, five minutes off their arrival time, maybe for one more person those five minutes would make the difference. I say: three people had died by the time they were lifted from the lifeboats. For all we know, in another hour it might have been more. I say they made all the difference in the world.

This ship and her crew received a message from a location they could not hope to reach in under four hours. Just barely over three hours later, they arrived at Titanic’s last known coordinates. Half an hour after that, at 4am, they would finally find the first of the lifeboats. it would take until 8:30 in the morning for the last survivor to be brought onboard. Passengers from Carpathia universally gave up their berths, staterooms, and clothing to the survivors, assisting the crew at every turn and sitting with the sobbing rescuees to offer whatever comfort they could.

In total, 705 people of Titanic’s original 2208 were brought onto Carpathia alive. No other ship would find survivors.

At 12:20am April 15th, 1912, there was a miracle on the North Atlantic. And it happened because a group of humans, some of them strangers, many of them only passengers on a small and unimpressive steam liner, looked at each other and decided: I cannot live with myself if I do anything less.

I think the least we can do is remember them for it.

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ok, because i just saw a terrible take, i feel compelled to say that there is no "fic market" to "oversaturate" in fandom. good gravy.

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Please God , take away Chappell Roan’s pain, double it and give it to mrbeast.

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3am photography by briscoepark

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these are all just Andrew vocal stimming 🔊