#Or can we just give it back to the natives

[tavina-writes]

I am still thinking about this post on the current plight of danmei authors in China. (Which, for what it's worth, is not new.)

And of course, we should condemn the Chinese government for this. This is entirely in their hands and they have been nothing but hideous towards people who have done nothing wrong.

But there is also another part of me, as Chinese-American Diaspora, who is so so tired and furious of people saying "they should emigrate if they have the money" "these authors should just leave their country and go somewhere else!"

Okay, bear with me here: give up everything they have ever known to go somewhere else? Leave behind their family and friends and communities and lifestyles? Where are they going? Erase their histories to go where to live how exactly?

We certainly aren't welcome in the US right now.

We have historically, in fact, been kept out of the US. (Angel Island, Chinese Exclusion Act). We have traditionally been kept from owning property here - leading to laundries and nail salons being associated with Chinese immigrants because we were not allowed to apply for citizenship or own property until the mid 20th century and even later in the United States. We have had long fights over whether the children of Chinese immigrants could be considered to have birthright citizenship. We are having that fight again here and now in 2025.

My parents left China in the early 1990s, when getting a visa into the United States was so difficult that they had only ever heard of one other family doing it. If you ask any Chinese-American you know when their family immigrated, it is likely to be either: very very early or within the last 25 years or less. We are, even now, seeing the current administration specifically target Chinese international student visas - you really think they'll look at other visas for Chinese people, especially queer Chinese people as "okay! you can come to the US!" ?

During 2020 (and beyond), there was a rising wave of anti-Asian (and especially anti-Chinese) sentiment. Especially stunningly: About four-in-ten Chinese adults (39%) say they personally know another Asian person who has been threatened or attacked since the coronavirus outbreak. (Pew Research Center, 2023)

Do you remember when people said that "oh the Chinese people are dying of that disease overseas because they're dirty." back in December of 2019? I remember. We had Chinese international students camping out on the steps of our library holding signs begging people to reconsider - to have sympathy for Wuhan. In late December of 2019 I came out of a bathroom stall to wash my hands and a woman also in that bathroom pressed herself against a wall to avoid me. Would she have had a heart attack if I told her "oh, my family is from Wuhan" ?

During this time, whenever my father went to sell goods in the nearest city, we were afraid for his life. After all, he was an older Chinese-American man and there had been so many attacks on people fitting his description across the country. In the Chinatown less than an hour from where I grew up, there's been repeated efforts from city officials to destroy it (and furthermore, do we look at Chinatowns across the country these days and think "haha it's so funny that all these Asian people live in an ethnic enclave! they just so funny!"). Research article regarding why older Chinese immigrants often stay constrained in Chinatown. The support for older individuals and prevalence of low income residents within Chinatowns has long been understudied even as Chinese-Americans are pushed as a "model minority" who are obviously taking highly skilled jobs from Actual Americans.

We are often always considered foreign, no matter our citizenship. No matter how long we have been here. Visually, people do not assume we are "American." Regardless of nativity, similar shares of U.S.-born Asian adults (48%) and immigrants (54%) have experienced at least one of these three incidents - these incidents are: 1) being told to 'go back to your home country' 2) having your name mispronounced 3) people assuming that you don't speak English. Every time I get into an Uber, they are always shocked to learn that I grew up in state.

Even as our cultural exports grow more and more popular here in the US as Netflix picks up cdramas, and publishing houses pick up cnovels, and gets more and more acceptable to love your hot boy love dramas and books because they're just so hot! Chinese Diaspora fans are being pushed out fandom, and our livelihoods, citizenship, and right to stay in this country are being threatened. America has a great hunger for our silly historical stories and no love for us as people.

My mother is afraid to leave the country. As the only person in our family without US citizenship, she fears that she will never be able to be let back in despite her green card residency because of the current climate. My cousin died just four months ago. She could not attend his funeral. Everyone I know in this community has thought about if they can return to China, and if they can't return to China, where they might go if we can't stay here.

Leave China? Leave China to go where? Certainly not the US in this political climate.

[littlemissrbf]

Summer Lovin' (pt. 4)

Robert "Bob" Floyd x Fem!Reader

(No use of y/n, reader is a SoCal native & Bob is from Montana, language, reader has an annoying but loving uncle, a lot of Cali references, pls do not let strangers drive you home, pls drive with both hands on the wheel, pls keep your eyes on the road, y'all wtf is a huckleberry, okay so apparently PDA in uniform is a big no-no)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 [Word Count: 2.2k]

"You can drive stick?"

"We had trucks on the ranch so I learned when I was ten or so, once my feet could reach the pedals."

"Robbie are you sure you're not a cowboy?"

A man you just met in a bar is driving you and your drunk uncle home.

Yeah it sounds bad, and you know it. Those true crime podcasts that your friends love listening to, this is how they start. With any other man, you’d worry about the night ending with your chopped-up remains shoved into a suitcase and left to float in the San Diego Bay.

But this was Robert Floyd. The man who let you beat him in pool so he could buy you a drink, the man who pulled your chair out and opened the car door for you, and the man who even insists on taking you out on a proper date before kissing you.

So now Bob is in the driver's seat and you're on the passenger side giving him directions, occasionally glancing back to make sure your uncle is still alive. He always had his radio on some country music station, you decided it wasn't worth it to shuffle through stations only to change it back after you got home, so you just turned the volume down.

"Thank you for this, I don't what I would've done without you."

"You don't have to thank me, I'm just glad I get to spend some more time with you." Bob turned to give you a quick smile, then shifted his attention back to the road.

"Yeah me too," you let out a short breath, "I'm also glad that I didn't have to go back in there and beg someone else to drive us."

"Someone like Hangman?" He teased.

"Oh God don't even get me started on that guy." You groaned, "He is such a self-absorbed prick- he struts around like a damn peacock."

A small chuckle left Bob's lips.

"I bet he checks himself out anytime he passes a surface that's even remotely reflective." You grinned at him, but he didn't return your smile.

"I would too if I had his looks." His lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze still focused on the road.

"You know you're better looking than him, right?"

"You're just saying that."

You felt an ache in your chest.

"Robert Floyd, you are the handsomest son of a bitch I've seen in a long time, and I'm not just saying it to be nice, I mean it."

He didn't respond right away, he blinked a few times and adjusted his grip on the wheel, he let out a steady breath and let out a small "Thank you", just loud enough for you to hear.

"You're absolutely welcome, Robbie." You moved your arm to place your left hand on his shoulder, his skin was warm under his uniform, you give him a light squeeze before pulling away. Again, you felt him lean into your touch, the tension in his shoulders melting away just a bit and he shifted in his seat before clearing his throat.

"What's your favorite flower?"

The question caught you completely off guard, you thought for a second, humming before answering,

"Carnations, why'd you ask?"

"No reason." he grinned innocently and shrugged.

"Well now it's only fair if you tell me yours."

"I like Daffodils."

"Daffodils?" you raised an eyebrow, "You ever watched Big Fish?"

"I love that movie." He said with a wide grin, "I used to watch it all the time as a kid, the DVD got so scratched up it started completely skipping scenes."

"Did you try toothpaste?"

"I did, but then the sound stopped working so I gave up and watched my back up movie."

"And what was your back up movie?"

"The Princess Bride."

"Shut up, I love the Princess Bride." you smiled at him and he turned to you with a mischievous smirk on his face, you immediately understood what he was thinking.

"No," you started, raising a finger at him while that stupid grin just grew bigger, "No. Don't you say it. Don't you dare say it!"

"As you wish."

You let out a groan as you pressed your face into your palms, Bob just chuckled at you, clearly proud of himself and his reference.

"So stupid," you threw a lighthearted slap at his arm, "You're lucky you're so damn cute."

He was still laughing, the corners of his eyes crinkled, and a rosy blush spread over his cheeks up to the tips of his ears.

In between giving directions and checking for signs of life from the backseat, you two filled the silence with silly conversations. You talked about your favorite ice cream flavors (he likes Rocky Road), hobbies (recently got into cooking and baking, he makes his family's old recipes whenever he feels homesick), and some memories from growing up (on his 12th birthday, he got the lego Millennium Falcon and tried to stay up all night making it).

"So, how're you feelin' about the weather over here?"

"It's... hot. I mean the heat was worse in Lemoore, but over here it's dry and sunny. If I stand in the sun over five minutes it feels like my entire face is gonna melt off."

"Welcome to San Diego, Robbie."

"It's nice when it rains, though."

"Yeah, it's nice, until you're on the 405 begging for your life 'cause suddenly everyone forgot how to drive."

Bob just laughed, but you weren't joking.

"I'm serious Robbie, the second rain hits the ground you've gotta stay off the roads, okay? No one is safe."

This just made him laugh more, you roll your eyes because you know he'll learn eventually, when it rains in SoCal you stay the fuck home.

"Okay okay, what about Whitehall?" You changed the subject, "Does it rain a lot there?"

"Oh it snows more than it rains."

"You're kidding."

"Nope, we get about seven inches every December."

"Your guy's Christmas must be beautiful," and now you were jealous, "God, I'd love to see the snow."

"You've never seen snow?" he quickly glanced at you, hands still on the wheel.

"No, I've seen snow before, I've just never actually seen it snowing before, you know." You sighed and looked up, "I've literally dreamed about watching the snow fall on Christmas Eve, with all the string lights and music, maybe some hot chocolate."

Out of the corner of your eye you could see him steal a quick glance before looking back to the road, smiling.

"You know, I think I can make that happen."

You turned to look at him, resting the side of your head against the seat, he still had his eyes on the road. He shifted his right arm to rest on the center console and his hand dangled just in reach of the stick shift. He looked comfortable, like driving with one hand on the wheel was second nature to him.

"There's this one place that makes a huckleberry hot cocoa," he continued, "or we could just make it at home with fresh milk from the cows if you want, that might be better anyway."

You turned back to see if your uncle was looking, but he was completely knocked out and snoring like a bear, so you turned back and moved your hand to rest on top of Bob’s.

He froze for a second, then his fingers immediately wrapped around yours and he pulled your hand up to his lips, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles. Your fingers intertwined and he moved your arms back down to the center console so that yours rested on top of his, you smiled and gave his fingers a tight squeeze. He returned the squeeze and you sighed,

“You’re cute.” You turned to look at him again.

He moved his thumb back and forth, caressing the side of your hand, “You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.” he looked at you with stars in his eyes and a grin on his lips.

"Keep your eyes on the road, Robbie." You blushed and turned away.

"Yes ma'am."

He held your hand the rest of the drive, only dropping it to shift gears and immediately moving it back to its place with your fingers intertwined. He gave little squeezes here and there, but mostly brushed his thumb up and down the side of your hand, you mirrored the gesture every once in a while making him smile.

Your car was parked on the curb in front of your uncle's house, you instructed Bob to pull the truck into the driveway, joking,

"You hit my car Robbie and you can kiss that first date goodbye."

"I won't." He parked and pulled the keys out of the ignition.

You opened your door and hopped out to make your way to the drivers side, Bob followed, stepping out and opening the backseat door for you, "Let me help you get him inside."

Your uncle laid on his right side, facing the seat, you turned him onto his back by his shoulders, but his eyes remained closed. You softly rubbed his shoulders, "We're home, it's time to get up."

When he still didn't stir you began tapping on his shoulders, gently at first but increasing the strength, you kept your voice soft and calm, "Can you hear me? C'mon old man it's time to wake up." His eyebrows pinched together as his face twisted into a grimace as he woke up, he let out a long groan.

"Morning sunshine," you said as you helped him sit up slowly. "Let's get you to bed, okay."

He grunted as he scooched towards the door, throwing one heavy leg out of the truck at a time and stumbling out, letting you and Bob scramble to catch his weight. You had your uncle's right arm over your shoulders and Bob had his left, the three of you shuffled up the driveway to the front door. Bob handed you back the keys and you carefully unlocked the door, you turned the handle slowly, trying to keep as quiet as possible. Your aunt was standing right behind the door in her pajamas, her eyes were tired.

"Hi auntie," you whispered, smiling innocently.

"Who's this?" She leaned on her hip with her arms crossed.

"This is my friend Robert Floyd, he drove us home."

"Ma'am." Bob extended a hand to your aunt.

She said nothing, just stared at his hand for a beat before reaching out to shake it, she let out a short huff.

"I'll get him to bed." She moved towards you, arms outstretched towards your uncle.

You brought his arm from your shoulders and passed it to your aunt, "Are you sure you don't need help?"

"I've got it." She turned and started walking him to the bedroom.

You pulled your uncle's keys from the door and dropped them into the ceramic dish on the foyer table, then you fumbled around the dish and grabbed your own keys. You closed the door softly and locked it, then you turned to Bob who was rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"I'm really sorry about that, she's usually not this cold," you moved closer to him, shoving your keys into your purse before bringing a hand up to rub his shoulder, "I think she's just tired."

"It's okay," he shrugged, clearly discouraged by the awkward introduction. This was not how you would picture him meeting your family, with your uncle drunk out of his mind and your aunt tired and clearly displeased at you bringing a stranger home.

You tilted your head to meet his gaze but he kept his head low, looking off to the side, you felt your chest tighten. You brought your hand to cup his cheek, gently moving his face to look at you, he gave you a weak smile.

"Hey come here," you pulled him into your arms, wrapping them around his shoulders in a tight embrace. He froze for a second then completely melted into your touch, he snaked his arms around your waist and held you just as tight. You stood on your toes, your face nestled into the crook of his neck, you felt him press a kiss to your temple before bringing his cheek to rest against the side of your head. He smelled like lemons and cedar, his cologne filled your senses as you nuzzled closer and weirdly enough, he also smelled like peanuts.

You stayed there for a moment, wrapped in each other's arms, swaying gently from side to side. And for that moment, the world fell silent, the only thing that mattered was the way he rubbed small circles into your back as he held you.

"Thank you, again, for tonight. For everything."

"You don't have to thank me, 'cause I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat."

You pulled away first, moving your hands rest on his shoulders and letting him move back as well, his hands hovered on your waist.

"C'mon, let's get you back to the bar." you said, fixing the collar of his uniform.

"You don't have to drive me, I'm sure you're tired too." he shook his head.

"Please, it's the least I can do. I can't have you walking back to the Hard Deck."

"It's really alright, you don't have to worry about me, I can call an uber or something."

"Robbie, just get in the damn car."

"Yes ma'am."

Divider by @bernardsbendystraws

(Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! The semester just ended so you should be getting pt. 5 pretty soon! As per usual, this is my first fic so if you have any writing tips or suggestions please let me know!)

Taglist: @yyiikes @beebeerockknot @greengoldhorns @pinkpantheris @ronniesreverie @mommymilkers0526 @gryffindorquid-ditchcap-blog @jackiehollanderr (Please comment if you want to be added!)

[ild-rllrcstr]

The Second Seat part 2

Lando Norris X You (female driver) / slight angst / 2.4K

part 1 / part 3 / part 4 (coming soon)

Summary You worked your way up to Formula One, contracted with McLaren, defying all odds. You play the team game: humble, strategic, and willing to follow orders, even if it means sacrificing podiums so Lando Norris can be the world champion. Every lap you sacrifice, every time you hold back, the world starts to doubt your talent. Lando sees it all. So he makes a choice: to give you the race, the recognition you deserve, and maybe his heart. You came for the drive, but you stayed for something more.

Warnings swearing A/N I'm trying to write something each day, and here comes the second part! Might still have one or two more parts of this coming, but let me know who I should write next! Although I speak French and English neither of them are my native languages so bear with me if there are mistakes (don’t hesitate to let me know also!)

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The atmosphere of the club was at its peak, but Lando was strangely not his usual party self. Something’s really bothering him. And Carlos noticed. He noticed how Lando took a long amount of time to show up, and he’s not that into the party even though he won Monaco and set the fastest record, again. 

“I thought by this time you’d be on the table dancing in your underwear by now. Monaco win? Fastest lap? Come on, champion.” Carlos stumbled down onto the couch next to Lando. 

“Yeah. Big night.”Lando’s pulled a weirdly fake smile staring blankly at whatever Charles and Pierre are doing, some French songs, clearly having trouble concentrating.

“So? What's going on? You’ve been weird the whole night. You ghosted us until midnight.”

Lando looked at Carlos, wondering if he should talk to about this, but he is not the best at hiding his emotions and thoughts. 

“It’s… Y/N, she seems to be having a hard time because of the race.” Carlos nodded, getting what Lando was talking about. 

“From P5 to P9 hurts, we’ve all been there, we know how it feels.” Lewis said firmly with compassion on one side, sipping his drink. 

“Please. As if she was gonna take Isack. She looked like she might, we’re in Monaco, we all know, and consider the rookie she is, she just had to blocked all our way like a rental kart session, it’s freaking stupid…” Lance, being a bit drunk, complained on the side as soon as he heard your name. Still mad about being blocked earlier in the race.

“Watch it, Stroll,” Lando shot a deadly glance at Lance. 

The slight raised in voice caught the attention of the others. Charles’ eyebrows wentup. Pierre paused mid-sip. Even Isack widen his eyes.

“I’m just saying what we’re all thinking. She was in P5. You think she suddenly forgot how to drive? No need to see the front to know that you’re boxing. It was for you to box clean, and she followed it like a good little number two.”

“Come again?” Lando’s now standing up, fuming. Carlos quickly stood up between the two.

“Number. Two. It’s the eighth Grand Prix now, isn’t it obvious enough? They’re making her your shadow, and you know it.” Lance smirked. “I don’t know why you’re this mad, it’s for your benefit, and she seems to be happy enough to just be sitting in a seat with us, no?” Lance was absolutely drunk out of his mind. 

Alonso quickly stood behind Lance, trying to stop the conversation, it was going too far. 

Lando was leaning forward, Carlos quickly held him back just in time, whispering in his ear, “Lando, too many people around, not a good moment.”

“Come on guys, sure it was shit call, but we all know strategy is strategy. It is like this in this competition, we’re not new to this. That’s respectful for Y/N’s teamwork, I got no beef. Perhaps we should be the ones learning a thing or two.” Alex stepped in between, helping Alonso to hold the drunk Canadian back. 

Lance was quickly retired to another corner with Alonso and Alex to make sure he doesn’t get involved in this anymore, seeing how drunk he was. Carlos and Charles are sandwiching Lando, making sure he calms down. 

Lando said nothing. But his fists clenched, jaw tightened, and the way he was staring into his untouched drink says everything.

“You know what, tomorrow, my yacht, we’re going on a ride, just to chill it out, it might help her. It’s her first time in Monaco, can’t have her leave my home town on a bad note.” Charles picked up his phone right away. 

“Allô, ça va merci, est-ce que c’est possible préparer mon yacht pour cet aprèm?”

(Hello, I’m well thank you. Is it possible to prepare my yacht for this afternoon?)

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The next day, you woke up with your head slightly spinning from all the crying you did last night. You probably cried yourself to sleep. 

‘16h à la porte, on attendera jusqu'à t’es là.’ - Charles

(16h at the port. We’ll wait until you show up.)

You looked at the time, it was already 13h, you dragged yourself to the shower, trying to reduce your puffy eyes and the weight behind them. You ended up ordering room service for some ice to help, along with some light food.

After a moment of hesitation, you pulled on a white maxi dress that hugged your shape softly, flowing like peace. One of the outfits you packed in the hope that Monaco would feel like a vacation, which was almost forgotten because of the race. You texted Charles apologising that you’ll be late for a bit.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡

“En fin! Elle est là!” 

(Finally! Sh’e here!) 

Charles and Alexandra warmly greeted you.

“Merci pour m'inviter.”

(Thank you for inviting me.)

You smiled softly.

Even Leo wagged his tail like he knew you needed softness today.

“Mon chouchou!”

(My darling!)

You knelt to greet Leo with a little smile. You’ve built your little friendship with the little guy quickly throughout the races. The wind carried your perfume, your hair fluttering elegantly. 

Lando did not understand French, but hearing Charles’ loud voice, he came out of the cabin. You were kneeling down, playing with Leo and didn’t really notice him. Once you stood back up, Lando got a full sight of you.

For once, you are not in your fireproof suit, not with a helmet and tired eyes, not in the simulation, not with data sheets, but in something flowing and softly white, but still with a soft smile you were clearly forcing to wear, which made him pause.

He had one hand in his trouser pockets, another one holding on to his drink tightly.

“Wow, am I in the inner circle already?” You energetically smiled and joked when you entered the cabin, seeing only a couple of the drivers were on the yacht. 

Good actress. Lando looked at you on the side, somehow seeing through you, not understanding why you are like this. 

Lando almost caught you red-eyed last night, and you really don’t need more people on your tail.

The others chuckled. “You speak French, that’s already a fast lane ticket to this circle.” Pierre joked back. 

You were surrounded by your new friends, everyone was on the dock enjoying the sun. Carlos and Rebecca were laughing over a Uno game going on with Lando. Lewis was lounging quietly, sunglasses on, but you felt his gaze check on you once or twice. Pierre had his arm draped lazily over Francisca’s shoulders, the two whispering between bites of fruit. It was all easy, golden, safe.

“Don’t let the media get to you,” Lewis said gently, handing you a drink. “You did what was asked. That’s more than a lot of people would do.”

Charles approached and continued, “If it were reversed, if Lando were told to hold up traffic for you and he did, people would be calling it ‘brilliant teamwork.’ But when you do it, it’s ‘lack of pace.’ Fuck that.”

You smiled, small and tight. “It’s fine. Really.”

“Non,” Charles said firmly. “C’est grave,” (It’s serious.)

“They used you. And you took it.”

“It’s just part of the job,” you replied, trying to make it sound light.

Lando was not sitting far, he was hearing the conversation with the Uno in his hands, losing count of the cards he was pulling for the +4 card. He dropped the cards and stood up. Too suddenly.

“Stop saying that,” he snapped.

Everyone fell silent.

“Why do you keep pretending it doesn’t matter?”

Your eyes flicked up to him, startled but calm.

“Because maybe it’s not yet the time for me to start acting like it matters. That’s not what McLaren needs from me right now. Like I always said, I’m doing what my team needs me to.”

His jaw flexed. “McLaren needs your silence, then? Your obedience? You think that’s loyalty? It’s survival. That’s not the same.”

Everyone was watching intensely, this was not what Charles organised this cruise for.

Lando took a step closer, voice lower but shaking.

“You had Hadjar. You had him. And they made you back down. Then you held off half the grid with dead tires like it was nothing.”

You stood, keeping your expression even.

“Maybe it is survival for me, being the only female in this competition. It was done for you, but what’s done is done. Enjoy your victory and we move on.”

“No,” he said, voice cracking.

“You move on. But to what? Another Grand Prix where you can’t show people what you basically sleep in the simulator and a swarm of data sheets for? You act like it never hurts. Like this doesn’t eat you alive. But I see it. I saw your face yesterday. And I fucking hate that you won’t let yourself say it out loud.”

You swallowed. The wind curled around you both. His chest was rising too fast. No one said a word.

Lando was right, but so were you.

“…It’s not your job to hate it for me,” you said, quieter now.

Lando’s reply came after a beat. “Yeah. But someone has to, and you are clearly not doing it.”

Lando left for the other side of the dock, Carlos followed. Charles and Alexandra came to make sure you’re okay. It took you everything to not break down in front of everyone. 

“Suis désolé pour ça, je voulais pas de mettre l’ambiance comme ça.”

(I’m sorry for this, I didn’t want to make the vibe like this.)

You sighed and softly apologized to Charles and Alexandra, feeling guilty.

“T'inquiète pas ma belle, c'est pas ta faute.” 

(Don’t worry, my pretty, it’s not your fault.)

 Alexandra gave you a tight hug.

“J'avoue qu'il aurait pu t'approcher sur ça plus gentiment, mais c’est parce que Il tient vraiment à toi, tu sais. Il était à deux doigts de se battre avec Lance hier. Je lui ai jamais vu comme ça.” 

(I admit he could’ve approached you about this more gently, but it’s because he really cares about you, you know. He was this close to going into a fight with Lance yesterday. I’ve never seen him like this.)

Charles leaned on the rail while Alexandra kept you in a cute side hug.

You looked at Charles with your eyebrows frowned. That’s when he told you what happened yesterday at the club. 

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The atmosphere was saved by dinner, although you and Lando sat on the opposite side of the table, the perfect corner to avoid each other. You sat between Alexandra and Lewis, both have been extra nice with you the whole afternoon, making sure you feel better, at least you looked like you felt better.

After dinner, on the ride back, you sat on the end of the yacht, watching the sunset. The hum of the motor and the wave were calming, along with the wind and the orange rays of sunset. It was so peaceful that you just let your mind empty.

You heard footsteps, but didn’t bother to turn around. The person sat next to you, mimicking your position. 

Lando. 

Both of you sat there for a long while without talking, just feeling how the wind blew through.

"Thank you for defending me yesterday at the club, Charles told me." You quietly said.

“Lance was drunk and stepping out of the line." He paused, "I’m sorry for lashing out like that earlier.” He quietly said, looking straight at the water.

“You’re not wrong. But if my little sacrifice can make it easy for everyone, I do think it’s worth it.”

Your words were frustrating him again, but he tried to calm himself down, since it did not end well the way he reacted earlier. 

“You don’t owe them comfort. You don’t owe me silence either. You are my teammate, but we’re supposed to push each other and not starve one to feed another, we’re McLaren we can have enough for both of us.” 

He wasn’t just angry anymore. He was hurting.

You turned to look at him, and there was something raw in his eyes, the kind of frustration that only comes from caring too much, like he’s begging you. 

“I don’t want to be the reason the team loses trust. If I break down, it’s not just me who suffers. It reflects on every woman trying to get into this sport. I believe the team has its plan, and I want to trust their decisions.”

 “So you’re just going to bleed for everyone in silence?” It was pure bitterness in Lando’s voice.

You smiled faintly. “If that’s what it takes.”

He looked at you then, really looked, and there was something in his gaze that burns hotter than an F1 engine running at 200km/h.

“I can’t stand watching them waste you.” Lando gritted his teeth.

“They’re not wasting me. I’m still here. And you’re getting the huge top rank gap between you and Lewis.” You were saying so, but you can’t look straight in his eyes to say these words.

“Yeah, but for how long before they break you, trying to make you small? And to be honest, I won’t feel like a real champion if I’m getting it like this”

Silence again. The air between you was tight with everything unsaid.

“Don’t care so much, Lando. It’ll hurt you.” You stared at the line where the sun disappeared into the water.

Lando almost whispered, “Too late.”

You looked up at him, heart pounding for reasons that had no longer anything to do with racing anymore.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡

“Should I go see if everything’s okay over there?” Carlos asked, eyes fixated on the two at the end of the yacht.

Everyone was trying to be subtle, but 8 of them all squeezing near the cabin opening to see what’s going on was very obvious and somehow comic. 

“I think we can leave them alone for now.” Charles was concerned, but the situation didn’t seem to need interfering for the moment.

“It’s scary when Lando is like that, it’s new and unpredictable,” Pierre muttered, stating what most were feeling. 

“Are you guys for real?” Lewis distanced himself from the others, looking at them as if they all had three heads.

“What?” Charles voices everyone’s confusion.

“Do you guys seriously not see why might be the reason he’s like that?” Lewis smirked.

The others looked at each other, still confused. Then Alexandra’s eyes widened and she looked back at Lewis in disbelief. Lewis shrugged, confirming what Alexandra’s thinking.

“Merde, ne me dis pas qu’il l’aime” Charles whispered.

(Shit, don’t tell me he likes her.)

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡

[professorfcknmoriarty]

I see a lot of hate from people in USAmerica towards Ohio and as a guy who's lived in Ohio and driven through it many times on the way to Canada, I feel I'm somewhat qualified to say the resolution to the "Ohio sucks" problem is we give as much of it as physically possible back to the authority of the First Nations people who used to freely live on the land and had it stolen from them.

I support all bank ownership of homes, farms, and other properties being transferred to the authority of the First Nations people and anyone who wishes to continue to live in the portions being given back should be allowed to do so, by way of paying their mortgages/rents directly to the descendants of the original/rightful "owners" and inhabitants of the land. Obviously, this would take some work and not be an easy transition for anyone involved, but just because something is difficult and complicated to do doesn't mean it's not the correct choice.

A lot of Ohio's history has been forgotten and outright erased as part of the constant and deliberate effort to suppress and eradicate the people who lived on this land before it was invaded by settlers. And tbh if you live in Ohio and don't want to live under the authority of the people who have real rights to the land, then just as we forced out, killed, suppressed, and drove them away, then you can also be forced out and driven away.

If you're more scared of your home being owned by people of First Nations descent than that of a bank then you're both an idiot and need to reassess your opinions on humanity. A bank will be quicker to kick you out on your ass, sell everything you own, and leave you with nothing than any real human being who you've been poisoned into believing less of would - and any animosity and distrust felt towards white folks is fully and unequivocally deserved. We do not deserve their respect, we have not earned it, and we continue to not earn it.

Stop talking about letting other countries "colonize" us to "fix" the fascism problem in the country right now and start believing in and working towards real, positive change that does not leave behind people who have been brutalized and whose rights have been systematically denied by a government built on white supremacy and destruction.

If you hate Ohio, you should support this.

If you love Ohio, you should support this.

If you're indifferent to Ohio, you should support this.

If you've never heard of Ohio, you should thank your lucky stars and still support this.

The Forgotten History of Ohio’s Indigenous Peoples

One State-Many Nations: Native Americans of Ohio

Ohio Native Tribes: History & Locations

The Forgotten History of Ohio’s Indigenous Peoples

What Are the Six Main Indian Tribes in Ohio?

Ohio’s Indigenous History is Part of Everyone’s History

[morganandtheemorgana]

Watching Nani in Lilo and Stitch live action made me frustrated as let’s be real, that’s not Nani or what the Disney think is Nani. Nani in the original was your local older sister who had to fight actual tooth and nail to keep Lilo from being taken away from CPS/Foster Care. She really gave up what was implied in the original to be be a potential career in professional surfing which we see this in that shot of her bedroom with all the medals and trophies resting there. She had to give this up to be there for Lilo as the latter didn't have much of a peer group system but Nani herself. She worked her ass off doing night shifts maybe part time in the day as well.

Nani in the live action is not Nani. They can say she's Nani all they want but she ain't it and it doesn't help they casted a lighter skinned local to play Nani (Do not harass or blame Adugong, blame Disney as they didn't not give actual shit) when Nani and Lilo are in fact Native Hawaiian descent and I grew up with friends who were native or mixed back where the original film takes place. Making Nani kinda a prick in the remake doesn't work at all for her character especially them Disney writers trying act San Diego is the top school to go for Marine Biology when, BACK HOME on the islands is the top place for what she wants to learn and they even give scholarships for us natives and us locals as well. She's also kinda a prick to Lilo in the remake as well I won't lie.

They really did butcher Nani's character to the point it's just maddening knowing the original would never do shit like this in the remake.

[d3ed]

Had to Google this because it's the first time I had heard of an Italian EIC and...

This is the most italian way to try and participate in the Indian Ocean trade wars like... 'look all the other cool kids in europe are competing to see who can do the most atrocities to native people, that seems... profitable. Let's join in" and then just stumble right out of the gate. Just faceplant so hard so quickly the whole project gets scrapped immediately.

The Italian Wikipedia page gives a few more details and the whole thing is so stupid from beginning to end like... You have a profitable business lending money and being in just the right position that everyone in the Mediterranean depends on you to get into the north Italian and central European market and instead of just sitting back and enjoy all the cash that just flows in, you just go 'But what if we invested heavily in this other venture that none of us are equipped or trained for, asked the Dutch (you know, the people whose profits we are trying to cut into) for help in becoming a market rival of theirs and just let them lead the whole thing.

And then they do it and as soon as the ships get to Sumatra they are seized by the Dutch (duh) with all their cargo and the SEVEN (7) Italian noblemen who were supposed to supervise the Dutch officers are just... Sent home? They basically just delivered to the VOC two ships (that they had just bought from them) and a shitload of money directly to their doorstep and went 'oh well' and turned back .

This is the funniest most incompetent way to fail in profiting from atrocities i have ever read about. Just turn up late to the party, pay someone else to do it and they steal all your money and you can't do shit about it.

Modern European countries who had a East or West India trading company

[mokeonn]

Before I go to sleep I leave you all with this piece of advice: sometimes you don't actually have to answer big political questions, sometimes you can just say "I am not smart enough to know that, I just know the small things I do to help." Like you can often times completely avoid making a fool of yourself if you just say you don't know.

[workingchemistry]

“Kih’ori’vod.” Tenten rumbles. His voice holds all the weight of affection b’Jan’buir. There’s also a cruel sharpness that Jan’buir never showed in front of Boba. “The Kaminiise were careless. The equipment malfunctioned and all of the cells they harvested from Prime died off.”

Boba stares at him blankly, not understanding what that has to do with his staying in prison for the rest of his life.

Tenten glances over his shoulder and then crouches down so he’s at Boba’s eye level. He brushes the back of his scarred knuckles across Boba’s cheek. “They’ll try to harvest cells from us, but we’re too edited—impure. You, on the other hand, are untouched. Tsad Droten is churning through us like mulch, they will approach you soon with a plea bargain.”

“Gar’gotal ner mav’cuyi.” The words fall from Boba’s numb lips before he can take them back. “Why?”

Tenten rocks back onto his heels, plastoid bucket scraping against his thigh plate. The silence drags on forever, long enough that Boba starts to think that he isn’t going to get an answer.

Then, finally, Ten’ika says, “Gar buir ru’juri skira. N’cuyi harycne viini goyust ures kyr.”

Mini translations:

Kih’ori’vod: little big brother (different from ori’kih’vod which means tiny brother)

Gar’gotal ner mav’cuyi: roughly, you manufactured a way to free me. lit. You create my freedom (mav being free and cuyi being exist)

Gar buir ru’juri skira: roughly, your father was burdened by revenge. Lit. Your parent carried revenge.

N’cuyi harycne viini goyust ures kyr: roughly, I won’t become exhausted running a path without an end. Lit not exist (most) tired running path without end.

[hustling-starley]

"Of course it's fine with me! I've sung both Japanese and English for karaoke streams, anyway, so we could probably just put in some songs we know and spin a wheel. It'll be a blast!"

While Harley was fluent in Japanese herself, there were certain syllables and words she struggled with, even now. Singing fast in any language was a challenge, but especially in one that wasn't her native tongue.

Learning a new language that way helped distract from the cold, sterile walls and tiles. The IVs attached to her arm, leg lifted in a cast, and bandages wrapped around her entire left side. Pain that left her too sore to get out of bed, even when she'd tried to sleep it off.

Still, Harley was never the type to move on so easily. If anything, challenges like that only pushed her further to keep practicing her vocals. Both for singing, and for speech.

Ame's teasing earns a pout from her, putting a hand on her hip. "And I know I can do it, too! If these fat bastards think they're gonna get away from me that easy, they've got another thing coming!"

She giggles as she returns the brief kiss, squishing the plush in her hands. Not just one reward, but two, for her efforts and persistent pushback. Never back down, never give up!

Proud of herself, she bounces on her shoes as she chants in a whisper. "Ame-chan! Ame-chan! Ame-chan! You've got this!"

Once the prize finally lands in the slot, she cheers, clapping her hands while the plush sits snug in her arms. "Wooooooo!!! And with that, Bandana Waddle Dee is ours! He could be our new son, we should name him... Wandana! Like won-dana, and waddle dana!"

The glee that flutters through her stomach reminds her of how much she's missed this. Gathering a group of her favorite people, running around town to have a fun time. Harley was always up for adventure, but it was never as exciting if she was just travelling alone.

The best part of any place, and what makes it worth remembering in her eyes, is the people she brings with her.

Laughing at game show antics and trying to replicate them in her living room. The warm smile of the sun as they strolled through the gardens, learning about flowers she's never seen before. The glow of the arcades at night as they battled for a full combo, mashing buttons and dragging their hands across the screen like their honor depended on an S rank.

The water joining everyone in their swimming circles, trying a new restaurant together after splashing around the beach. Roasting marshmallows over a homemade campfire in the backyard...

That warmth she could share, with people she could trust to stay by her side through it all. Not just through the highlights, but the quieter nights as well.

Harley was not for everyone, but she was for Ame. Her warm, bright heart would make room for the soft, somber light of the moon.

Taking Ame's arm around hers, she squeezes her hand, and looks up at her with all the love in her heart.

"Playing games with Tsuki-chan's always fun, but I've got one last place I wanna show you before it gets too late." She smiles, thankful that she'd reserved a room for them in advance. "The cards I got us can be renewed for the next time we come here. So, you don't need to worry about us missing out on anything, if we don't get to it tonight."

She steps closer, cooing into Ame's ear. "After all... it's not a real girl's night without a love hotel, right~?"

The only thing Harley really knew in regards to Ame's past were all things Ame had implied, but never said aloud. She didn't really check in on the Chat n' Chills, though that was more so because she'd much rather have conversations like that in person than online.

People become a lot more honest when they aren't hiding behind a screen.

She knew that Ame shared her passion for video games, for anime and manga, for being loved with the same intensity that she showed. Unafraid of her feelings, even the painful or depressing ones. Ready to tackle topics Harley wouldn't touch, even on a good day.

Sincere and sensitive, in a way she's only seen from those in her selective circle.

Most of all, Ame dared to dream big and gave everything she could to achieve it. Even if it drove her to her limit. There's no way Harley would forget those scars on her wrists, after all.

She also knew that Ame hated crowds, didn't go outside nearly enough, and her place was an absolute mess. Even when Harley teased her about it, Ame didn't really make the effort to clean or care for herself much, unless it was for someone else's sake. Not to mention that envious attitude she can have.

Nobody ends up like that without their reasons, but... Ame promised Harley she wouldn't hide. Plus, Ame has been demonstrating her love and devotion to her all these months they've been together.

She trusts Ame, and while she would normally hate doing so—if it were anyone else— she's willing to wait for her lover.

"Eh, I'm just loud and proud in general. It's part of the Harley Experience, take it or leave it." She shrugs, knowing full well she's also used her shower and any home alone opportunities to practice her songs.

"Besides, doing karaoke is a lot of fun, especially if you act like you're performing your very own concert! You know- like using your hairbrush as your mic! It doesn't even matter if you sing badly, either. You don't need to be good at it to have a good time!"

A lesson she kept, and very much needed, passed down from her Baba.

She gives a pleased hum at the forehead kiss, giggling as she skips along. Ah, she'll never get enough of any affection Ame gives her, even if it's casual. She's always been greedy when it comes to sweets.

While she hears Ame's words of caution, she's also running on pure impulse and fixation-fueled joy. Once Ame gives her the green light, she jumps up to give her a kiss on the lips.

"Oh yeah, I'm a Kirby Connosseiur! You better watch and learn, Meemee, 'cause your Hacchan's gonna win big! We ain't going home until I get you one of these giant gumball guys!"

Rushing forward, she puts her tokens into the slot, her expression shifting to focus on her mission. Aiming for the Strawberry Kirby near the machine's exit hole, she experiments with a few different positions.

6 failed attempts go by, with Harley chewing her lip in frustration. "Come on... gimme some luck here!"

And by the miracle of gravity and physics, the plush gets enough of a nudge to fall into the prize slot.

"Woooooo, that's what I'm talking about!" She cheers as she grabs the stuffed plush, squeezing it with a satisfied squeal. The plush is big enough to nearly match Harley's torso, if it were as chubby as her.

"Alright, I'm passing my luck and my last few tokens to you! I believe in you Meemee, you've got this!"

[xcziel]

i am SO IRRITATED with @support @staff right now

like this detaching a post from its link to each individual reblog in a chain is a NIGHTMARE

-> new hyperfixation, and i'm trying to backread some of the associated blogs that have been around a while, yeah?

and i'm on mobile, which is relevant because hey fuck app users is i guess the motto?

so used to, if you wanted to read a few months/years back on a blog you could: find a tag of theirs, click on a post that was around the time you were interested in, be ported to the blog's dash AS OF THAT TIME IN THE PAST, and just scroll along

but now, because tumblr, for whatever moronic reason, has isolated posts so that

clicking takes you to an individual pane for *only* that post, not where it is on the blog timeline

AND NOW you CANNOT reach a previous reblog from clicking on the username in the reblog (only the og post)

the ONLY way to get back to older posts is to SCROLL MANUALLY FOR LITERAL HOURS

if i want to see posts from 2017, finding an old post and clicking on it does NOTHING to help me - it has been snipped out of its native environment and shown to me, but the other posts available as links at the bottom pane are just whatever tumblr algorithm thinks are 'relevant', not access to the rest of the blog timeline

this is true EVEN ON MY OWN BLOG and

I HATE IT

either make the Archive function work on mobile or GIVE BACK THE FUNCTIONALITY THAT WE HAVE ALWAYS HAD

[reasonsforhope]

"Once thought to be extinct, black-footed ferrets are the only ferret native to North America, and are making a comeback, thanks to the tireless efforts of conservationists.

Captive breeding, habitat restoration, and wildlife reintegration have all played a major role in bringing populations into the hundreds after near total extinction.

But one other key development has been genetic cloning.

In April [2024], the United States Fish and Wildlife Service announced the cloning of two black-footed ferrets from preserved tissue samples, the second and third ferret clones in history, following the birth of the first clone in December 2020. 

Cloning is a tactic to preserve the health of species, as all living black-footed ferrets come from just seven wild-caught descendants.  This means their genetic diversity is extremely limited and opens them up to greater risks of disease and genetic abnormalities. 

Now, a new breakthrough has been made.

Antonia, a black-footed ferret cloned from the DNA of a ferret that lived in the 1980s has successfully birthed two healthy kits of her own: Sibert and Red Cloud.

These babies mark the first successful live births from a cloned endangered species — and is a milestone for the country’s ferret recovery program.

The kits are now three months old, and mother Antonia is helping to raise them — and expand their gene pool.

In fact, Antonia’s offspring have three times the genetic diversity of any other living ferrets that have come from the original seven ancestors.

Researchers believe that expanded genetic diversity could help grow the ferrets’ population and help prime them to recover from ongoing diseases that have been massively detrimental to the species, including sylvatic plague and canine distemper. 

“The successful breeding and subsequent birth of Antonia's kits marks a major milestone in endangered species conservation,” said Paul Marinari, senior curator at the Smithsonian’s National Zoo and Conservation Biology Institute. 

“The many partners in the Black-footed Ferret Recovery Program continue their innovative and inspirational efforts to save this species and be a model for other conservation programs across the globe.”

Antonia actually gave birth to three kits, after mating with Urchin, a 3-year-old male ferret. One of the three kits passed away shortly after birth, but one male and one female are in good health and meeting developmental milestones, according to the Smithsonian.

Mom and babies will remain at the facility for further research, with no plans to release them into the wild.

According to the Colorado Sun, another cloned ferret, Noreen, is also a potential mom in the cloning-breeding program. The original cloned ferret, Elizabeth Ann, is doing well at the recovery program in Colorado, but does not have the capabilities to breed. 

Antonia, who was cloned using the DNA of a black-footed ferret named Willa, has now solidified Willa’s place as the eighth founding ancestor of all current living ferrets.

“By doing this, we’ve actually added an eighth founder,” said Tina Jackson, black-footed ferret recovery coordinator for the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, in an interview with the Colorado Sun. 

“And in some ways that may not sound like a lot, but in this genetic world, that is huge.”

Along with the USFWS and Smithsonian, conservation organization Revive & Restore has also enabled the use of biotechnologies in conservation practice. Co-founder and executive director Ryan Phelan is thrilled to welcome these two new kits to the black-footed ferret family.

“For the first time, we can definitively say that cloning contributed meaningful genetic variation back into a breeding population,” he said in a statement.

“As these kits move forward in the breeding program, the impact of this work will multiply, building a more robust and resilient population over time.”"

-via GoodGoodGood, November 4, 2024

[ketchuppee]

During the 2008 recession, my aunt lost her job. Her, her partner, and my three cousins moved across the country to stay with us while they got back on their feet. My house turned from a family of four to a family of nine overnight, complete with three dogs and five cats between us.

It took a few years for them to get a place of their own, but after a few rentals and apartments, they now own a split level ranch in a town nearby. I’ve lost track of how many coworkers and friends have stayed with them when they were in a tight spot. A mother and son getting out of an abusive relationship, a divorcee trying to stay local for his kids while they work out a custody agreement, you name it. My aunt and uncle knew first hand what that kindness meant, and always find space for someone who needed it, the way my parents had for them.

That same aunt and uncle visited me in [redacted] city last year. They are prolific drinkers, so we spent most of the day bar hopping. As we wandered the city, any time we passed a homeless person, my uncle would pull out a fresh cigarette and ask them if they had a light. Regardless of if they had a lighter on hand or not, he offered them a few bucks in exchange, which he explained to me after was because he felt it would be easier for them to accept in exchange for a service, no matter how small.

I work for a company that produces a lot of fabric waste. Every few weeks, I bring two big black trash bags full of discarded material over to a woman who works down the hall. She distributes them to local churches, quilting clubs, and teachers who can use them for crafts. She’s currently in the process of working with our building to set up a recycling program for the smaller pieces of fabric that are harder to find use for.

One of my best friends gives monthly donations to four or five local organizations. She’s fortunate enough to have a tech job that gives her a good salary, and she knows that a recurring donation is more valuable to a non-profit because they can rely on that money month after month, and can plan ways to stretch that dollar for maximum impact. One of those organizations is a native plant trust, and once she’s out of her apartment complex and in a home with a yard, she has plans to convert it into a haven of local flora.

My partner works for a company that is working to help regulate crypto and hold the current bad actors in the space accountable for their actions. We unfortunately live in a time where technology develops far too fast for bureaucracy to keep up with, but just because people use a technology for ill gain doesn’t mean the technology itself is bad. The blockchain is something that she finds fascinating and powerful, and she is using her degree and her expertise to turn it into a tool for good.

I knew someone who always had a bag of treats in their purse, on the odd chance they came across a stray cat or dog, they had something to offer them.

I follow artists who post about every local election they know of, because they know their platform gives them more reach than the average person, and that they can leverage that platform to encourage people to vote in elections that get less attention, but in many ways have more impact on the direction our country is going to go.

All of this to say, there’s more than one way to do good in the world. Social media leads us to believe that the loudest, the most vocal, the most prolific poster is the most virtuous, but they are only a piece of the puzzle. (And if virtue for virtues sake is your end goal, you’ve already lost, but that’s a different post). Community is built of people leveraging their privileges to help those without them. We need people doing all of those things and more, because no individual can or should do all of it. You would be stretched too thin, your efforts valiant, but less effective in your ambition.

None of this is to encourage inaction. Identify your unique strengths, skills, and privileges, and put them to use. Determine what causes are important to you, and commit to doing what you can to help them. Collective action is how change is made, but don’t forget that we need diversity in actions taken.

[mars-ipan]

I DIDN’T FALL ASLEEP IN ART HISTORY !!!!

[gingerswagfreckles]

I think people need to understand that when someone says the situation in Israel/Palestine is complicated they are not necessarily saying that the discussion of who the oppressor vs oppressed is complicated. The Israeli government has been oppressing the Palestinians for a very long time, that is clear, and it is not complicated to understand that at least since the 80s they have had dramatically more financial and military power to keep control of the territory in the way they like.

However, it is reductive and dismissive to insist that there is no complexity in the potential ways to move forward to bring peace to the region. Despite what people on tumblr.edu like to believe, "Israel should never have been created" is not a practical solution to an incredibly heated geopolitical situation in the present day. Israel was created and it does exist. 10 million people live there. 74% of the population is native born and the country has existed for 75 years. Hand waving these fact away with the opinion that "they should move back to where they came from" may make you feel good about being a Radical Leftist, but it does not give anyone a road map for how exactly millions of people without dual citizenship are supposed to just up and evaporate. Nor does it acknowledge the reality that 21% of Israelis are Arabs, the very people you are claiming to want to give the land back to.

Insisting that there's nothing complicated about expecting an entire country's population to willingly dissappear with no consequences is not a productive way to think about this conflict. It ignores the many massive superpowers that have an interest in proping up different states in the region, the power dynamics involved in any land back movements, and the inevitably negative consequences of totally dissolving an established state without a plan. It is also completely and almost comically unrealistic, so much so that it makes it hard to believe that anyone who's opinion starts and ends with this idea really gives a shit about anyone who lives in the area as much as they care about their online leftist clout.

There's nothing complicated in understanding that the Israeli government is and has been maintaining an oppressive apartheid state for decades. It is, however, very complicated to come up with a realistic way to resolve some of the most intricately entangled land disputes on the planet without plunging the region into total chaos. Not everyone has to be deeply educated on every geopolitical situation, but it is very hard to take people seriously when they know nothing about the politics or history of a region and yet insist that there is nothing complicated about it at all.

There's a lot of people on this website who are getting dangerously smug about their own ignorance, and are starting to go down Qanon type anti-intellectual paths in the name of being sufficiently radical. Not knowing the details of a very convoluted land dispute isn't something to brag about online as you call for intentionally reductive solutions. You can support the Palestinian cause and be aware of the oppression they have faced while also holding off on calling people trying to do real analysis and de-escalation work bootlickers. We need to get control of the urge to fit every global issue into a simplistic YA novel narrative structure that appeals to Western revolutionary fantasies.

[rafedarling]

Hiii , can you write something jealous drew , maybe he is away to shoot a movie and reader takes rustyn to preschool or to events and during this time she makes friends with one of the single dads there and the guy is a bit of a flirt, when drew gets back from the shoot, rustyn mentions his mom's new friend and reader lets it go but drew is already jealous and the next day he goes to preschool with reader and intimidates the single dad a bit and reader finds his jealousy cute

𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

pairing: dad!drew starkey x mom!reader

summary: while drew is away filming, you take rustyn to preschool and befriend kevin, a charming single dad who enjoys flirting a little too much. when drew returns home, rustyn innocently mentions mama’s new friend, which immediately sparks drew’s jealousy. the next day, he insists on going to preschool with you, just to say hi, of course.

warning(s): english is not my native language. slow-burn jealousy, playful intimidation, protective drew, and plenty of domestic fluff.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. discussion can be send through my ask box, please feel free to send in anything. ⭐️ taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @anamiad00msday @stuffyownswrld @httpsdrewstarkey @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @victwrvale @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxosblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @percysley @littlelamy @winniemoe @emberaurora @watercolorskyy @kravitzwhore @issabellec7

It was another morning of getting Rustyn ready for preschool, and you were juggling everything alone again while Drew was away filming. Rustyn, as always, was a bundle of energy, making it nearly impossible for you to get his shoes on properly.

“Rustyn, hold still, baby,” you sighed, attempting to double-knot his laces.

“But Mama, I wanna go wake up Dada first!”

You smiled, ruffling his hair.

“Alright, go give him a kiss, then we have to leave, okay?”

Rustyn ran off into your bedroom, where Drew was still tangled up in the sheets, deep in sleep. But that didn’t stop your son from climbing onto the bed and poking his dad’s cheek.

“I love you, Dada. Bye-bye!”

Drew groaned, barely cracking one eye open.

“Mmm, love you too, buddy. Have fun at school today.”

“I will, Dada!”

You leaned against the doorframe, watching the sleepy exchange with a soft smile before ushering Rustyn out to the car.

At preschool, Rustyn was practically bouncing in his seat as you pulled into the parking lot.

“Look, Mama! Daisy’s there!” he pointed eagerly, and you followed his gaze to see a little girl with pigtails standing next to her dad, waving.

Rustyn beamed. “Isn’t she pretty, Mama?”

“She’s very pretty, sweetheart,” you agreed, helping him out of his car seat.

As you walked up to the entrance, Daisy’s dad turned and gave you a friendly smile.

“Hey, you must be Rustyn’s mom,” he said, offering a handshake.

“I am,” you said, shaking his hand.

“Kevin,” he introduced himself.

“Daisy’s dad. She talks about Rustyn all the time.”

You laughed, glancing down at your son.

“Does she now? Well, Rustyn talks about her, too. I think you two might have a little duo forming.”

Kevin grinned.

“Yeah, seems like it. She says Rustyn shares his crayons with her, which is apparently a huge deal.”

You chuckled. “That’s adorable.”

As the kids ran ahead toward the classroom, Kevin lingered beside you, casually tucking his hands into his pockets.

“So, you’re usually the one doing drop-offs?” he asked.

“Most of the time,” you nodded.

“My husband’s away filming right now.”

Kevin’s brows lifted slightly.

“Oh, your husband’s in the industry?”

“Yeah,” you said, smiling. “Drew Starkey.”

His expression flickered with recognition.

“Oh, that Drew Starkey? Damn. That’s cool.”

You laughed. “Yeah, he’s pretty great.”

Kevin gave you a teasing smile.

“Well, I don’t usually get starstruck, but I might have to get an autograph for Daisy. Or, you know, you could just sign something for me instead.”

You blinked, catching the flirtatious edge in his voice.

“Kevin…” you said, giving him a knowing look.

He held up his hands in surrender, laughing.

“Alright, alright. Just saying, it’s not every day I meet someone who looks like you at preschool drop-off.”

You shook your head with an amused smile, deciding to let it slide.

“Well, I should get going,” you said, shifting the conversation.

“Rustyn’s probably already settled in.”

Kevin nodded. “Yeah, me too. But hey, if you ever want to grab coffee after drop-off, let me know.”

You hesitated for half a second before offering a polite smile.

“That’s kind of you, but I’m good. See you later, Kevin.”

As you walked back to your car, you brushed off the encounter. It was nothing. Just friendly conversation.

That evening, Drew was finally home, setting the table while you finished heating up dinner.

Rustyn, however, was unusually quiet, barely touching his food.

Drew sat beside him, gently nudging his arm.

“What’s up, buddy?”

Rustyn poked at his mashed potatoes, frowning.

“Mama made a new friend today.”

Drew’s head snapped up, his eyes flickering to you.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, keeping his voice casual.

“Who’s this new friend?”

Rustyn fidgeted in his seat.

“Daisy’s dad. He talks to Mama a lot. And today, Daisy said her dad likes Mama.”

You nearly choked on your water. “Rustyn!”

Drew, on the other hand, just let out a dry chuckle.

“Oh, did she now?”

Rustyn nodded. “She said Mama might be her other mom. But I don’t want that.”

Drew placed a hand on Rustyn’s head, ruffling his hair.

“Buddy, no one’s taking Mama away from us. You don’t have to worry about that.”

You reached over, squeezing Drew’s wrist.

“It’s just kids being kids. Daisy was probably just playing pretend.”

Drew hummed, but the sharp set of his jaw told you he wasn’t letting it go.

The next morning, you were tying Rustyn’s shoes when Drew suddenly grabbed his keys.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Coming with you,” he said casually, slipping on his jacket.

“You sure? I thought you were sleeping in today.”

“Nah, I feel like stretching my legs.”

You squinted at him. “Drew…”

He smirked, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Just wanna say hi to Rustyn’s teachers. And maybe meet your new friend.”

You sighed, but you didn’t argue.

At preschool, Drew held Rustyn’s other hand, his grip firm and possessive.

Kevin was already there, chatting with another parent, but when he saw you approaching, he smiled until his eyes landed on Drew.

Drew’s hold on your waist tightened slightly.

“Morning, Y/N,” Kevin greeted.

“Morning,” you said as Rustyn ran off to play.

Drew extended his hand, his grip firm and unrelenting.

“Drew Starkey. Her husband.”

Kevin hesitated before shaking it.

“Oh. Right, yeah. Nice to meet you, man. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Drew smiled, but there was something sharp in it.

“Funny. I don’t think I’ve heard about you at all.”

Kevin let out a small laugh. “Well, Daisy and Rustyn get along great, so Y/N and I have talked a bit.”

“That so?” Drew said, still smiling.

“Appreciate you keeping my wife company while I was away.”

You elbowed him lightly, but he didn’t budge.

Kevin cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, good seeing you guys. I should get going.”

As he walked off, Drew exhaled, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, shaking your head.

Drew smirked, leaning in close. “Just making sure he knows you’re very taken.”

You rolled your eyes. “Jealous much?”

Drew wrapped an arm around you, murmuring in your ear, “Always, baby.”

You let out a laugh, nudging him playfully.

“Come on, jealous husband, let’s get breakfast.”

Drew chuckled, kissing your temple before leading you back to the car, still holding you close.

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 10:32

You tell Bakugou once that you don’t know how to take the train home, and he almost blasted your ears off with semi-yelling (or full-on yelling at some point) insults. 

“Hah?” He scoffs, eyes narrowing. This information is new to him, and a surprising one at that. 

You? The nerd that always bested him when it came to academics, which pissed him off the first few months in U.A.? The person who was not only book smart but was street and people smart as well? 

The whole goddamn package doesn’t know how to take the train?

Really?

He’s calling bull.

“What do you mean you don’t know how to take the train home? What kind of idiot doesn’t know that?”

“I just—“ you’re abashed and really don’t know what to say, “I didn’t really— I’ve never had the chance to take one until now!” For a consistent honors student, you can’t really have everything, can you?

“How’ve you been getting to school and back, then?”

“We had a driver—“

“Fuckin’ course—“

“But hey! Listen—in my defense—my schools were usually a walking distance from our house.”

“And now what? Gonna stand here and wait for a miracle to happen?”

You nudge his side with a frustrated frown (more like a pout, Bakugou thinks.) “Quit it, asshole.”

He backtracks briefly, though you could barely tell at this point. And it’s clear enough that he takes your words into consideration. It could be the fact that you actually look scared shitless right now, something foreign to your typical lax and carefree persona.

“C’mon.” Bakugou grabs you by the arm.

“Ow— hey! Where are we going?”

“You have to learn somehow, or else you’ll look fuckin’ clueless and dumb, nerd.”

You don’t argue because you really just wanted to get home, and while you could just call in your driver, you considered that this was important information that would help you in the long run. Besides, you do agree with Bakugou that not knowing how to commute like this is embarrassing, especially at your age.

“What’s this?” 

Bakugou hands you a card. It’s decorated with a minimalist logo of Musutafu’s native flower, whose color is your favorite.

“An IC card,” he simply answers.

It’s cute, you thought. You noticed how the other commuters had the standard design, so Bakugou must've gotten it personalized to your preference. How thoughtful.

“You could’ve just helped me get a ticket, though,” you murmur. You fiddle with the card in your hand, glancing at him with a puzzled expression. “I don’t think I’ll be using this card that often. It’ll be a waste.”

“Then try and use it as often as you can, nerd.”

“I’ll pay you back for this—how much was it?”

“Forget it.”

“Really, Bak—“

“Forget it,” he barks. “Keep up, you shitty extra. Or else you’d miss the last train to your station.” Bakugou starts walking, and you follow suit.

You can load your IC card at the ticket machines or the nearest ATMs. Different stations call for different ticket gates that obviously have different fares. The expiration of cards usually depends on what provider you got them from—

“What do I do now?”

You’re hesitantly in front of the ticket gate, with Bakugou on the other side. You’re like a kid who’s lost their mother in the mall.

“Just—“ Bakugou had to take a deep breath and not make a scene in the train station. He pinched the bridge of his nose, calling for all his ancestors to give him the strength to remain patient.

“Place your shitty card on the card reader. That’s it.”

You do as you’re taught, and you awed when the gates opened and let yourself walk through with a stupidly big smile on your face. “I did it!”

Bakugou thinks it’s fucking stupid of him to think that your enthusiasm for mundane things was cute. But fuck, something must be wrong with him because suddenly he feels a flurry of butterflies lodged in his throat, his heart beating ridiculously fast. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” 

He gives you directions, how to navigate through Musutafu without getting lost, and the basic stations you’ll be passing by to get to your station. He sees you type most of the things he says on your phone, and the way you were so eager to learn was a sight to see, really.

Boarding the metro, people were just as eager to get home as you two. So you two stood, not that there was much room to do anything about it.

“Hold onto the handle unless you want to fall on your ass,” Bakugou says. His tone is hushed to not disturb the other passengers. At least he followed basic commuting etiquette. 

“It’s so beautiful,” you breathe out. The passing buildings were as huge as those of U.A.’s, if not bigger. With the golden hue of the apparent descent of the sun below the horizon, Musutafu just became more beautiful in your eyes.

He scoffs.

“What’s so interestin’ about a buncha tacky buildings? Never seen one before you came here?”

“Of course I have; they’re just not like this.”

Bakugou follows your line of sight, and he thinks about it carefully. He couldn’t see what you saw, but maybe it’s because he grew up looking at this scenery. It doesn’t amaze him as much as it did when he was younger, he concludes. To you, this was a first. 

An experience that could become a core memory in this city. And he’s with you as you live through it. The thought causes a familiar feeling of pride to exude from his chest.

Maybe he’ll learn to appreciate more mundane things with you too in the future.

The train stops at another station, and the people scurry out. Once in motion, you were surprised by the speed when it took off, and the motion had you stumbling back. You stumble against Bakugou.

“What did I say about keeping a firm hold on the handles, you shitty extra? That’s what those are for.” Whether it’s by instinct or unintentional, Bakugou guides your hand to hold onto the support pole. He doesn’t let go, and you didn’t make a comment about it.

“Sorry! Still getting used to it,” you quietly laugh. “I hope the people here don’t think I’m really that inexperienced when it comes to taking the metro home,” you told him. “It’s embarrassing to think that I haven’t taken one until now.”

Bakugou thinks it’s alright because you were actually on set to learn. No matter what those other extras say or comment, no matter if they give you unimpressed glances, he’s there to grant them one of his own spine-chilling glares if they had the balls to do so. 

A passenger who appeared to be around your age stood up from his seat. “Excuse me, you can take my seat. I get off at the next stop,” he says. You’re a bit hesitant to take the offer, but he reassures you that it’s fine. It’ll be an awkward death for you if you don’t accept it, because now he’s standing. “Please, I insist.”

Unknown to you, Bakugou had an obvious scowl on his face until the stranger left.

“You look like you’re about to shit yourself.”

“Shut up, I’m not.”

“Jealous?”

“Hah? Why would I be—”

“Shh!” you kicked his shoe with yours.

“Quiet, remember?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, still frowning. You hold his free hand, cheekily smiling when he tries to free it from your hold. And in the end, he lets you do whatever the fuck it is that you want, but he would never ever admit that he was jealous of some nameless extra. He’s too far into liking you to help you board a train, get you a personalized IC card, miss his stop two stations ago because yours was still three stations after his, but he doesn’t think he’d be vocal about it anytime soon.

He’ll leave it to you to confess.

Then again, you already knew.

Bakugou Katsuki would not go above and beyond like this for anyone else, but he unknowingly does for you.

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