#and no matter what I do. no matter what I say. it’s always the wrong thing to do or say! always! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kenyummy · 1 day ago

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✰ 07. the ballad of a bygone blight.

✰ ꒰ ⍣'ˎ˗ platonic yandere batfam / spider! reader ꒱

✰ 07. a fools own parade.

SYNOPSIS : being spidey isn't easy. being transported into an alternate universe where you're nothing but a shadow in your house, makes sneaking around a little easier... until you find yourself the apple of their eye... kind of.

note: im not really sure if it counts as it's a very small passage but tw for a lil bit of an identity/existential crisis??? not very sure haha I mostly just write what comes to mind

also, first father appearance! yay! he finally shows up, and he's as mysterious as ever, hehe. next chapter will be either dink focused or ... someone else... 🤔🤔🤔

You dab at your nose with a tissue, cringing at the sight of crimson still pouring out from it. How hard was that guy's chest, anyway?

A thick bandage is stuck tightly on your nosebridge, taped to your skin and soaked in blood. Changing it every hour was a giant pain, but you'd rather have a bloody bandage than clothes.

Thinking back on it, you almost can't imagine the look in Tim's eyes again. Nothing strange. Nothing too out of the ordinary, but different enough to make the hair on your arms raise.

(You're the greatest anomaly in his life. Isn't it natural a detective wishes to solve such a damning mystery?)

How differently his entire composure grew once he saw you laying there, dirtied hands clutching your face. Was it normal for a guy like him to change his entire stance at such a moment? You'd be inclined to believe he couldn't care less about something like this, from all those diary entries spanning several years.

But seeing that look, when you'd stopped him from coming closer, putting distance between you two, as you thought there'd always been, how could you possibly think that? That look of worry, fingers twitching as he reached out, and expression of pure betrayal when you'd stepped backwards. Away. From him.

Wasn't that how it'd always been? You couldn't stop thinking. Maybe you were wrong? Maybe your spidey sense, for the first time in your life, was wrong?

They say that a fool's time spent thinking is wasted time.

You spent hours sitting at your desk pondering all of this. What it meant. Why your siblings seemed to all give you this strange, sinking feeling in your stomach. Raise goosebumps up your arms.

Soon, these thoughts spiralled back to your home. How you could help Reed. Speed up the process. Not wishing to mess with his delicate work nor rush him, but also getting restless with this family.

This family who's known you for their whole lives, yet seems to similarly know nothing about you. This you, their you, any you. Too little to care, too much to hate. The worst kind of balance that upset the universe and made your stomach twist with bile.

But at this point, you weren't too sure who was who, which was which.

If, tommorow, you'd lost everything and if you were caught in a blazing heat, would it be you who had died? Or somebody else? Would it be you in that coffin, underneath a stone who's name carved into it, did not belong to you?

The concept of being your own person, what did it mean? What could it mean when there were more of you, exactly the same, only shaped by their environment? An endless amount of copies, down to the genetic level, each in different worlds yet unmistakably the same?

When you stare into the mirror, nothing is the same except the red that flows down your knuckles when you slam your fist into it. Nothing remains the same except what you look like inside.

Though—in the end—even that belonged to them, didn't it?

You barely ever see your sister, nor her blonde friend. The ginger haired woman has more pressing matters to attend to than ever seeing you, it seemed—something you'd actually grown to appreciate, seeing how positively suffocating those other "siblings" had started to become.

Dick, who was thankfully off in Blüdhaven around now. Jason, who should be out doing his own thing, but seemed to always spare some time for you... as much as you insisted on him not doing that. Tim, who always stared with a little too much intensity and danger hidden behind a sharp smile.

And Damian—your only blood-related sibling, seeming to take great pride in such a fact as he brings it up far more often than not.

You'd begun to realise a distinct lack of a parental figure in your...—

This. This life.

Not yours. This life absolutely was not yours. Everything is seriously messing with your head. Belonging to another unfortunate soul, who happened to have your name, shared your face and voice, yet was everything you never were. Experienced things you never did, yet as you lived in a freedom they could never dream of.

You pitied them more than anything else. But that didn't mean you could just give everything you've ever known up. Your people, your city, your friends, your freedom. This blood that runs through your veins and makes your heart beat steady—it may belong to them, but you never will.

As it spills, you will be free. Losing that chain that binds you and perhaps you will be allowed to feel that wind hitting your face once more. Allowed to swing, fly, feel air and be everything you were destined to become.

Your suit forms over your body and you leap out of your window, leaving nothing but a gust of wind in your wake.

The Spectacular Spidey seems to swing and never sleep—the alliteration in the title of this news article you've read makes your head hurt. Said only as an unfortunate pun referring to how you swing from building to building, and only operate during night hours.

Because, despite everything, it is still you.

(Yet, still careful on avoiding your dearest family... as difficult as that may be—your senses are seriously saving your skin... wait, now you're using alliteration—)

You don't have anything against working during sunlight. In fact, it would be preferable for you. But escaping from school has now become increasingly more difficult after you'd "opened your heart" to MJ and Harry.

Both were completely convinced you were spiralling down a bad path after how you'd acted with Jason, or concerned for both your homelife and general wellbeing—sometimes you truly did damn yourself for picking such good friends.

Nevertheless, you couldn't possibly be worrying about something like that right now, when there's a much bigger problem right in front of you.

A man dressed in a rag-like coat lay beneath your heel, defeated and hands bound together with your webbing.

You'd originally expected to leave immediately, hoping to catch Reed before he was off looking for whatever new part he needed for his grandest project. But now, you can't even hope to move at this point—swamped by flashing cameras and microphones shoved into your face.

Suddenly, you're so incredibly grateful you wear a mask, because you aren't too excited at the prospect of having such unflattering photos of you taken.

"Spidey! What are you doing in Gotham?"

You stammer, "Uh—well, you know—"

"Spiderguy! What's your thoughts on the articles calling you a knockoff Batman?"

"How am I anything like him?" You gesture to your bright red suit. "Also, it's not Spiderguy—"

"Spidey! Spidey! How do you create that webbing fluid? Is it organic? And is it environmentally sustainable? Who's going to clean it?" The reporters move closer and closer.

You inch backwards, "Uh—well, you know, my webbing dissolves in a couple hours by itself, and of course it's sustainable—"

Before you can finish, a multitude of voices all ring through your ears at once. Piling atop eachother, all at the same time, forming into a mush of different tones and accents, indistinguishable from one another.

You can't even hear anything anymore, not until a voice, loud and clear, cuts through a multitude of others and strikes your ears with ease, "Hey, Spidey! Our viewers have a question for you—how have you gotten past Batman? I'm sure you know he doesn't allow metahumans in Gotham, right?"

You freeze. Shocked, but soon, that shock soon morphs into confusion at what exactly a metahuman is.

"I... uh—" You glance to the side. You know, doing this will spark way too much gossip for your own good. Doing this is practically asking for those headlines that, while technically true, are completely outlandish. You were a reporter yourself (for your alter ego, to be fair—but it still counts).

You know this can't end in any other way than complete disaster.

That's why you reach up, webbing to a building and wave goodbye to those pesky paparazzi, "No comment!" With all the wit a Spider must have, you decide that your flight or fight response instead chose: Web away with a sly remark.

"They should be around here, Batman."

Oracle's voice rings out through the earpiece. Barbara had taken the liberty of helping him in his little crusade after seeing that stunt on live television—that spider-hero running away after hearing that metas weren't allowed in Gotham... though, it provided more questions than answers.

Babs was growing restless. For one: that reaction possibly explained why they were so wary of any member of their family even coming close to them. Always running at the first sight of them, webbing away faster than they could hope to catch up. Escaping Batman and his Robin, Babs couldn't help but wonder about them.

They're good. Smart. They're not some new hero. Clearly whoever's behind that mask has experience.

But this raised far too many questions in it of itself. Why had you only popped up now? Why not years ago —if, judging purely by her own gaze, with the years of experience in crime fighting you must have? Why Gotham?

And perhaps, the most daunting question of them all, "Who exactly are you, Spider?"

Bruce's gruff voice reaches her ears, "What was that?"

Her eyes widen, not realising she'd spoken aloud. Shaking her head, she relents, "No... sorry, it's nothing. Right... according to witness sighting and where they were last spotted, you should be meeting them in the middle right now. Do you have any sightings?"

Bruce shakes his head, jumping over to the top of the next apartment block roof—cowl landing in a swoop behind him. "No. Not yet. See if there's any new sightings."

Bruce Wayne was beginning to grow tiresome of this new hero's antics. Running around through Gotham without a care in the world—all too bright and cheerful as if this was all that mattered. Running around as a meta—unchecked and absolutely dangerous.

Nothing good could come out of this. Not without knowing exactly who you were and what you wanted. He never was a dictator type—never had it in him—but with a crime-riddled city like Gotham, he had little choice.

One small mistake could ruin everything. Collapse all that he's worked so hard to create. A better city, a better future. A regular human—as he is—couldn't possibly ever handle a rouge meta... and in the end, this city may not want him, but he really is the type of hero it needs.

So, that's why, instead of patrolling through his sector—he asks Orphan, Batwoman, and Spoiler to take over for tonight, so he can do some much needed digging into this anomaly.

Tim told him that his webbing sample, one he managed to collect around a month ago, when he'd first come into contact with them, had dissolved within hours. Not enough time to perform any kind of intricate testing, not by a long shot.

Batman has taken the almost passive stance—uncharacteristic of him—but now, he realised with such a slippery Spider, he had to do what he does best, and corner them.

His whitened eyes dart up at the flash of red that flies past him. He snaps his head back and finds the Spider—the one he'd been looking for all this time—swinging from building to building, fast.

But not nearly fast enough. With one false swoop, Bruce is after you, grappling towards you, eyes narrowed and mind absolutely determined.

"Batman? Batman?" Oracle pipes up—he assumes she's been talking for the past couple minutes, but only realised she was speaking into his earpiece now. "Can you hear me? Do you have a visual?"

"I see them. Nearly have them."

The Spider darts their head over their shoulder almost frantically—moves stuttering when they see how close he's gotten toward them.

"Hey! Why are you so obsessed with me, huh?" Thrir voice calls out—unlike anything he'd ever heard. "I mean, okay—yeah, I get it. But if you want a fashion taste like mine, I can make you a suit of your own!"

He clenches his jaw to stop himself from saying anything back.

Their voice grows more framtic at his silence, "H... Hey! You're getting really close, there—let it go! I'm not a villain! I swear!"

More silence, and they seem to let out a loud groan of frustration, seemingly aimed at him.

They stop. Heels landing flat atop a building, and Batman, with his cowl wrapped around him like a cloak, follows on their heel, stalking closer towards them.

You raise your hands in defence, stepping backwards and shaking your masked head, "Waitwaitwait—! Don't get violent with me, I don't want to fight you!"

"Then what do you want?" His voice grows deeper, more gruff and cold. "No metahumans are allowed in Gotham without my permission. There's too much trouble that comes with it. Too many difficulties."

He pauses. "Too much crime. Too many deaths. Unnecessary, preventable ones. Who are you to be an exception?"

"I said wait—!" You shriek as he practically stalks into your personal space bubble. "I'm not a metahuman!"

He stops in his tracks. "... What?"

You let out a heavy sigh, now that he's stopped. Batman taps on his earpiece, "Oracle, can you hear this?"

"Reading, Batman."

You look around, to see nobody. "Oracle? Who's Oracle?" You never read anything about an Oracle.

"None of your business. Now speak. If you aren't a metahuman, what are you?" His whitened eyes narrow, and suddenly those pointy ears aren't so silly looking anymore.

You blink. Once, then twice. "Would you believe me if I said I was from an alien planet full of spider-people?"

Despite the reprocessing telling him your backstory would have on you being near non-existent—you still aren't too fond of the idea of the Batman, your father, knowing your secret backstory.

Besides, Oscorp really does exist in this universe, too—Norman is actually pretty nice. You don't want any unwarranted blame falling on him.

"Not a chance." He folds his arms over his bat-symboled chest and you falter with a sigh.

Worth a shot.

"Fine." Not to say he was the reason you finally relented—but his stare was pretty unnerving. "I was bit by genetically modified spider on a school field trip. It altered my DNA so I became stronger, faster, could stick to walls and became three times more flexible than the average person."

You finish with a winded breath, eyes scanning his expression for any hint of an emotion. You found none.

"Why should I believe you?"

Pausing, you glance away. Crouching down on that rooftop, on the ledge, staring down at the city below. Dimly lit roads and the people littering it. So much like your home, yet so different.

You could see why Batman was this city's protector. You could see why he was so careful about this world, and you almost respected him for it. At the same time, though, you couldn't help but think to all those chicken-scratched diaries.

By a helpless child, unable to depend on anybody but him in this world, and he had still failed. For that, you couldn't face him. Not now, not ever.

"You don't have to believe my story." You finally manage to unlodge the words from your throat. "I'm just saying that whatever your rules are—my existence doesn't defy them. You have no reason to keep chasing me down."

His sharp, whitened eyes narrow. It's the only thing visible in such deep darkness where he lingers.

"Actually..." Oracle's voice rings out through Batman's ears. "Their story... might have some truth to it. Check this out—Oscorp's been working on developing a, quote, super-powered spider. Says spider venom is the cure for disease and pandemics. They've been developing in this field for a while."

A super-powered spider sounds absolutely ridiculous, he thinks. But nothing he hadn't seen before. In a world full of aliens, heroes, personification of life, death, and everything in-between—he shouldn't be surprised at the prospect of gaining superpowers from spider venom.

Looking down at you now—slouched, facing away from him, and almost seeming restless... "Oscorp."

You look back at him, confused. "Huh?"

"Did that spider come from Oscorp?"

... You bite down on the inside of your cheek, hard. Looking back away before you could stop yourself. "No. I'm not from around here. I live far. Far away."

"What do you mean by far away? Why are you in Gotham, then?" He steps closer, to the point he's standing over you with all that intimidating bat-aura that makes the criminals of Gotham run for the hills. Still, you can't bear to see him. Because if you do, you know you'll spill everything you've been holding in like a waterfall.

"I don't know," you admit, honestly. "I don't know why I'm here. I want to go home, but I don't know where that is anymore. All I know is that, while I'm here, I might as well help people. Because... that's what I do."

For a moment, there's no sound other than the honking of cars on a busy road. He's quiet, as silent as he always is. Always was. For a moment, you think you almost see him as that father from so long ago.

But only for a moment.

"... How old are you?"

To your surprise, he doesn't immediately go to accusing you of lying again, or keep his standoffish persona any longer—only asking you this simple, yet strangely personal, question.

In simple words, you're really confused. "What? Why does that matter?"

"You sound young. Too young. And from the way I've seen you fight, you're experienced in fighting high, street-level crime. If I had to guess, I'd say you've been doing this for at least three years. Maybe more."

Sweat beads at the back of your neck, and suddenly everything starts caving in, crumbling like failed architecture. How did he know? How could he have possibly—

Batman continues, "The way you talk, and the way you behave in the public eye, you can't be an adult. I'm assuming you're a child. Meaning you've been fighting crime since you've been in your early teens, right?"

"What are you talking about?" You stand up at your full height, staring up at him. Glaring, as well as you can manage from underneath those refractive lenses. He doesn't back down. "I'm not—"

"You're a child," He repeats. "Don't carry this weight. You don't have to carry the weight of—" Gesturing towards the ground below, he stares down at you, strangely sadly, "All this. Especially not all by yourself. Not as a child."

The only word you want to spit out at him is hypocrite.

"Don't act all high and mighty. That Robin you have looks 12. You're saying a 12 year old is capable of fighting crime but I shouldn't? I'm nearly an adult, for god's sake! I'm—"

You slap your hands over your masked mouth, but still continue. "Don't treat me like I don't know better. You don't know me. You have no idea what has happened in my life."

"I only take Robin under my wing because he needs it. So I can watch over him."

You glare, "So what? So he can turn out like you?"

"So that he doesn't."

And to this, your lips feel sealed shut. You want to say something, but you can't. What could you possibly reply to this?

Even Oracle is silent. Not a word, not a peep. Nothing. The honking of cars has ceased, and it's like the world itself had just gone quiet for that one, stunning moment.

"You're not from here, so I don't know you," Finally, he speaks, and it's like the silence has been shattered like glass. "You're right. But... you're a child. You aren't obligated to this. This isn't your responsibility—to make this world better. If you can live normally, you should."

Isn't such normalcy why you ended up like this in the first place? All those entries, wishing to be like the rest of them—and here your father is now, telling you to be yourself.

If only they had heard this, you think, bitterly. Then, you'd know you were right. That he would only ever see you if you had become one of them.

The thought makes your stomach churn. How pretentious could this man—this devil—possibly be?

"You're wrong. To live normally like this, when I was given the strength to be better, to do things to be a better me... that's just wrong." You clench your fists, hard. "I already made that mistake before. It doesn't matter whether I'm 18 or 80. All that matters is that I'm doing what I know is right."

You pause, allowing the words to sink in. "But to discard the normally in your life is a waste. That's why I live the way I do. To protect the normalcy around me, the ones who can't protect themselves. With great power comes great responsibility... my responsibility is to be the best Spidey I can be."

...

You angle your wrist up and don't bother to look back at him when you walk away, "You and your birds can come after me all you want, but I won't stop doing what I think is right. 'Cause I'm a hero."

When you thwip away, you aren't so sure how you'd forgotten that. How a hero protects the ones they love above all else.

Your family aren't heroes. Perhaps, to the public, and even the whole world—but not to you. They'd failed to protect that child, a miserable, small child, left in that massive world.

To make it so they felt they had to save people, to take that responsibility of power to matter—that was their greatest failure.

"... Batman?" Barbara's voice is a dramatic shift from the silence that started to consume him. "Batman,are you okay? Batman? ... Bruce? Are you..."

He takes a moment to regain his composure, world still spinning as he speaks, "I'm fine. They're... they're okay." Saying the world's like they're hard to spit out, or like he's unsure himself. "I'm coming home."

Barbara wants to say something. About that spider. About what they said to him. Power, responsibility, protection, normalcy, love. But she doesn't. By the sound of his voice, he seems just as frazzled as she is. A conflicted Batman means no good for anybody, including her.

So, she will let him think. Oracle can take a back-seat for now. So can Batman. For now, she's just Barbara Gordon. And he's just Uncle Bruce.

Holding her tongue, "Cass and Steph aren't back yet. Kate left a while ago... said there was something she needed to do. ... Everyone else should be at home, I think..."

"Okay." He murmurs, quieter.

Barbara shuts her mouth and leans back in her chair. There's nothing else for her to say, so once more, there is silence.

...

When Bruce returns back to the Manor, he finds himself pushing past everything and everyone, including Alfred, and rushing up the stairs. Not even bothering to take off his suit fully—tossing his helmet behind him and walking away.

Down a hall to the left, then up right, then left again. Stopping once he, finally, stands in front of a door. Blank. Colourless, dull. Like the rest of the manor, blending in away from those extravagant suits and too-bulky armours.

After a brief moment of confliction, he brings his fist up, and knocks. Standing there, almost the size of the doorway, waiting for any kind of reply.

"Hello? What—"

You freeze at the sight of your father staring down at you—this time, his eyes were as blue as ever and his face was less grim. This time, you could see the greying of his dark hair and the crease of his brows.

This time, there was no escape.

"[name]." He says your name as if it's foreign, unfamiliar. Testing it out like a new spice or seasoning, then seeming to come to the conclusion that he likes it. "It's been a while."

You're frozen in place, mouth open yet unable to speak. What could you possibly do now? Run? Swing? Duck past—

A hand places itself on your shoulder and every siren in your body blasts itself tenfold. Blaring like the most buzzing and painful alarms—so awful that you have to grab the side of the doorframe to stop yourself from falling over.

Panic gnaws at every side of you, chest rising and falling erratically when your headache grows.

What is this? This is so much worse than when I'm with Jason—

His face morphs and blurs as does his words, yet you manage to catch the few, "I think we should spend more time together. Become closer, like how it was before. You are my child after all. The only one who doesn't have patrol or scoutings with me. That calls for more regular ways of bonding, right? That's my responsibility... as your father."

He's smiling. Hardly so, but you're about to collapse. A deafening buzz in your skull, you spit out any agreements you can manage through squeezed eyes, waiting for him to go, to leave, so for a moment, you can finally breathe.

"I'm glad you agree," he says, moving back. Clearing his throat, he looks down at you, recovering as he gives you space. "Next week, then?"

You clutch your head, jaw taut and stance tense. It's a wonder how he hadn't noticed your absolute discomfort, but you digress—just wanting him to go. "Sure."

"Good, then—" Before he can finish, your door slams shut in his face and once again, that barrier has returned. Bruce pauses, staring at that slab of wood keeping you from his line of sight.

Bruce lingers for a few moments longer, fingers hovering the handle, before retracting back and swallowing thick.

Batman walks away, but glances twice over his shoulder, cowl falling behind him.

You slump down your door with a heaving sigh, feeling your head start to clear and breathing stabilise.

That feeling of fear, of utter terror—it was the feeling you'd get with Jason and Tim, but tripled. It was torture. Absolutely awful. Unbearable. You'd not relt anything while you were Spidey on that rooftop, but seeing him here now send your senses spiralling into a whirlwind of chaos.

You grab your head and it falls onto your knees, pulled up to your chest.

Your eyes fall bleak and everything blurry again. Are you going to cry, like a child? To prove him right again, that you're afraid of this? Of him?

Maybe you were more similar to his version of you than you were lead to believe. Maybe—

Still, though, your phone buzzes.

A strange sounding noise compared to the cheap, hand-me-down one you had in your other room. Probably spammed with stupid videos from MJ, and worried texts from Harry. Maybe even the odd "how are you?" from Matt, or something.

(You still don't know how he texts, but that's beyond you).

You pick up your phone, despite the lingering thought it could just be from one of your family members. Siblings, or father.

... You were half right.

From a contact customised to say, the #coolest auntie, there's a text.

Hey, kid. Let's go out. It's been way too long.

You stare down at the bright phone screen for a few seconds longer than you should've. Surprised, sure, but just as confused. Swallowing and considering your options for a second.

You haphazardly let your fingers fly over the keyboard. If your contact name for her was this comfortable, she must be a good person, right? Maybe she could provide an outside perspective on everything. Your family, their hero-lives, even you.

You press your lips tightly together narrowing your eyes down at her contact profile picture. Short, red hair and a smug smile. Pale skin, and the features reminiscent of your father.

Sure. Where?

When you watch the text bubbles pop up on the screen, you can't help but wonder what exactly you're going to do next.

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rex-rambles · 1 day ago

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➤ OBLIVIOUS | F1 SMAU + FIC

pairing: f1 grid x albon!reader (platonic!)

summary: the f1 drivers make the mistake of saying they're always aware of their surroundings, so you start an Instagram account to prove them wrong...by seeing how long it takes them to realize you're taking photos of them.

warnings: none!

➤ MASTERLIST

Liked by alex_albon, georgerussell63, and others

visacashapprb Do your F1 drivers know when we're recording them? Or anyone, for that matter? Seems like the answer is yes!

↳ yn_albon really @/alexalbon?

↳ alex_albon I am very observant, thank you very much

↳ yn_albon we'll see about that

↳ fan44 there's literally paparazzi footage of the drivers every other day, of course they notice, they just pretend like they don't

Liked by yn_albon and others

oblivious_f1_drivers the guys said they know when they're being photographed, my camera roll says otherwise

↳ mclar_win Oscar's side eye is crazy

↳ brocedes this HAS to be like George or someone proving a point

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers George wishes he was me

↳ fan16 this is either a prank or a stalker...watch out guys

Liked by alex_albon and others

oblivious_f1_drivers first up: dumb and dumber 🧡 i should start timing how long it takes for them to notice

↳ alex_albon if I end up in one of these, I'm telling everyone

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers no promises

↳ f1_fantatic alex, our chronically online king

↳ fan44 oscar and lando together = fork found in kitchen

Liked by alex_albon and others

oblivious_f1_drivers in the lead as always, Max Verstappen comes in first by taking two days to notice!

↳ mclar_win max always has to be first, doesn't he?

↳ fan44 no wonder he looks so happy

↳ mad_maxxx why is the second picture lowkey...

Liked by alex_albon and others

oblivious_f1_drivers i got too cocky 😔 tried to go for the super close up and got caught :( current record: three days

↳ fan16 so both Max and Charles now know your identity??

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers they've already been sworn to secrecy

↳ carcarcar who could this be?? charles was happy to see them so it wasn't a stranger

↳ f1_fanatic i mean, alex is lurking in the likes 👀

Liked by alex_albon, yn_albon, and others

oblivious_f1_drivers idk what made him more mad, the fact that he crashed or the fact he caught me

↳ alex_albon we had a promise

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers i literally said no promises

↳ alex_albon get ready to give up this account

↳ mclar_win it has to be George, right?

↳ carcarcar if it were George he'd be smiling liked by oblivious_f1_drivers

Liked by lando, georgerussell63 and others

oblivious_f1_drivers a week and a half for Mr. Lando Norris! i would've taken more but this man was too excited to catch me

↳ lando See? I'm very observant

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers it took you a week and a half to catch me

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers even alex got it in less time

↳ alex_albon hey!

↳ georgerussell63 any chance I can beg for immunity?

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers send me photos of oblivious drivers, and then maybe we'll talk

Liked by alex_albon and others

oblivious_f1_drivers someone tipped him off...at least I snuck one in

↳ alex_albon 😇

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers we could've had something, alex

↳ alex_albon you're the one who broke their promise

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers I NEVER PROMISED

↳ alex_albon wait why are you that close to lance in the third photo

↳ alex_albon answer your texts!!

Liked by lando, oscarpiastri, and others

oblivious_f1_drivers what's this? oscar finally noticed? after TWO WEEKS? enjoy all the photos

↳ oscarpiastri listen we have a lot to do during race weeks

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers like pay attention to your photographers??

↳ oscarpiastri that's not even your job

↳ nicolepiastri so it's not just me being ignored?

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers @/oscarpiastri text your mom or I'm stealing her

↳ oscarpiastri will do 🫡

↳ brocedes so we KNOW its not a photographer

Liked by alex_albon, georgerussell63 and others

oblivious_f1_drivers looks like we're not the ONLY oblivious ones #/hacked #/alexandgeorgehaveyourphone #/thebetteralbon

↳ yn_albon GEORGE???

↳ georgerussell63 why are you mad at me?? be mad at alex!

↳ alex_albon yeah george, how could you do this?

↳ f1_fanatic the albon siblings causing trouble on track as usual

↳ lando payback for having to look over my shoulder all week

You hold your hand out to Alex, who reluctantly drops your phone into your palm. Sometimes, you think, people forget you were actual siblings, who had just the same amount of fun annoying each other as any other pair of siblings in the world. The only difference, however, was that your brother happened to be a world-famous F1 driver, and you were a journalist trailing him around all day.

So honestly? You were perfectly within your rights to post all those silly photos of him and his friends. After all, it was something to occupy you in the rare moments you weren't hearing about being an Albon, or growing up around all the drivers, or waiting for Alex to come to an interview ten minutes late because you couldn't really say anything about it.

"I can't believe you," You direct both towards Alex and George, checking to make sure they didn't mess with anything else on your phone.

You had to give them some credit in their retaliation. Alex must have been sneaking photos of you all week, and then airdropped them to your phone to put onto your Instagram account. You'd never say that out loud, however.

Lord knows he didn't need the extra ego.

"Me?" Alex asks, looking rather insulted. "You're the one out here taking photos of us secretly."

"You're the one who said you weren't oblivious. I've seen you walk into a pole! Be serious." There's a joke to be made about him walking into poles yet never getting pole, but that's a bit too harsh, even for you.

"Be serious?" Alex parrots, rubbing a hand over his face. "Be serious! You are so lucky you're family, or I would've kicked you out of the paddock by now."

With the same grin you'd been pulling on him since you were a kid, you force him to reconcile with the fact that he actually did this to himself. "Unfortunately, you did also get me a job with F1, so you couldn't even kick me out if you tried."

"I'm sure they'd let me kick someone out if I needed to." He mutters, shaking his head, and before you can open your mouth, he raises a finger. "We're not making another bet about this."

George, finally content with how the conversation has ended, speaks up. "I can't believe it took Oscar so long to notice."

"I know, I thought it would be Charles." Alex answers honestly, and George pauses for a moment before turning to you.

"Should I be concerned I never caught you taking pictures of me?" His expression is stuck somewhere between the horror of potentially not noticing you and relief that you might have excluded him, considering the deal you struck up. To your surprise, George actually did supply you with oblivious photos of the drivers, a sort of double blackmail you can't wait to spring.

And, while he hasn't ended up on the account yet, there's still time.

He did help steal your phone, after all. He will pay. "I just didn't get to post yours. You're also pretty oblivious."

"No, I'm not!" He says, pointing down at your phone. "We checked the camera roll, there was nothing of me on there!"

"You think I'd leave those on my camera roll?" You ask with the same grin, now pointed at him. "Oh, I keep my secrets much more guarded, thank you." Alex offers a look, and you shove his shoulder. So maybe he had a point about you leaving your phone unattended around a man who knew the password and knew you ran a secret account, but still! "This secret doesn't count."

"I'm sure it doesn't," Alex says with a laugh before leaning in closer. "Any good ones of George?"

"Got one of him picking his nose?"

With a screech you can only describe as inhuman, George loses all the colour in his face. "You do not!" Then, as he reaches for your phone, both you and Alex take a step back. "Albons, don't do this to me!"

You and Alex are running before George even has a chance to catch up.

It's a rare time Alex ever actually beats George in a race.

Liked by lando, alex_albon, and others

oblivious_f1_drivers my cover has been blown :( it was fun while it lasted

↳ alex_albon I'm really glad I got you hired as a journalist and not a photographer, these are terrible

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers ow??

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers I can't even be a nepo sister in peace

↳ isackhadjar oh come on

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers your expression captures how I feel, it deserves the first slide

↳ georgerussell63 hey, i thought we had a deal

↳ alex_albon you made a deal with george and not me??

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers @/georgerussell63 the deal ended when YOU STOLE MY PHONE

a/n: my friends have started playing photo tag on campus, which is the only way i can describe where this came from - enjoy?

#➤ rex works #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 grid x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 imagines #f1 reactions #f1 fluff #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 texts #albon!reader #alex albon #george russell #lando norris #oscar piastri #max verstappen #carlos sainz jr

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imattertooiexistt · 1 day ago

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@oripoke @bo-beanies I have so many photos and documents.. Ive been telling the truth. But instead of being supprotive, you subjected me to neglect, abuse, and torment. Why was i just this object for you to use, abuse, and then leave for dead on the streets? Like i was garbage? There TLDR is that you knowingly, and willingly, abused and controlled a mentally ill person; a close friend of years you knew was autistic and sick; you stole my assets and safety, traumatized me, then left me on the streets to die. In the beginning, there were days I literally could never put my phone down because I was 24.7 comforting bean. Id have to hide and be quiet in the bottom room, just to talk to Rory on the phone for a few minutes, or bean would get would get wildly upset if they saw. I couldnt say the wrong things, because i knew what would happen, and i was terrified. Id do everything you asked even when you hurt me for it. And yet, when i freak about the extreme trauma you cause me, doubled with my brothers abuse- when i had panic attacks from your abuse,

you stole everything and left me for dead without a word. Id have stayed by your side for months until you felt better, and you knew that, but either of you talking to me for 2 minutes was too much effort, no matter how badly i needed it... as much as i communicated this, you just ignored it

I was always there for both of you, even when it radically hurt me. I tried so hard to keep bean happy, for MONTHS, but when it was my turn to need help i was abandoned, hated, tossed away like I was nothing, and mocked for the illness i cant control. "Its your fault for being poor, its your fault for being sick" is what you said to me. Of course i snapped. You have no idea how much pain you put me in, to be starving, to be on the street with an infection, to lose my cat. Everything just got worse. My disorder is not something i can control. After 7 months of hell i was still not a person to you i was just an object or a toy for you to use. Why talk to this thing now, why bother? I was just a pet for you two to keep and torment until you were bored of my messages

The pain was too immense for me to handle, each month it just got worse. It hurt so badly. I cant describe it and i wouldnt wish it on even the most evil soul. It's agony. No human deserves what i had to go through- nobody. Hard drugs couldnt even make it better. It was both mental and physical hell. Do you know how painful my med increases were, too, but i still did them because thats what you told me to do? I STILL listened and trusted you because i cared. I got therapy, too. And you still treated me like dirt, and im the one that has to pay for it in the hospital, in debt, in isolation and immense pain. Im the one that has to pay for all the suffering that you caused. Then you parade my dead name around, and accuse me of things I did not do. I did horrible things, im not saying i didnt. But you cant admit what you've done at *all*

I did everything you both asked of me even when it was hard, contradicting and confusing. Id never asked either of you for ANYTHING. Not ever. All I asked for was to talk, to help me with this stupid fucking disorder, but after everything I went through and how hard I tried and everything i suffered. Instead of being there, instead of responding to the only thing ive *ever* needed from either of you, you radically hurt me, then left me to die. TWICE

You may not believe this, but i don't. Want. To. Be. Like. This. I didnt choose to have this disorder, i dont choose the attacks that happen, and when i attempt suicide its *NOT* for attention like you scream. You put intentions in my mouth so often; it has nothing to do with your stupid blogs. Its to make. The pain. Stop. Its so immense, the only thing that goes in my head is "stop, make it stop, please make it stop" and i try and escape from my body to make the suffering end. There's no other way to escape your own mind but to die. And drugs, which I've gotten even further sick for abusing, but nothing else fucking helps

You all act like its a choice i made, and that's what you abandoned me for. I cant control my panic attacks. I dont control the disorder i got from my brothers abuse. i dont *WANT* to talk to any of you ever again or even think about you ever again. But that's the thing about mental illness, its crazy because it is, and when I said it wont fucking let me.... i mean IT WONT FUCKING LET ME. Could you ask a schizophrenic person to stop seeing demons?? "Like hey dude, just stop seeing them. Have you tried just stopping?" I know pea had fun mocking me, and you all had a good laugh, "lmaooo you couldn't even not do it for a single day"- i didnt choose to be like this. I have the meds and I have the therapy. I did what you wanted but you just hurt me again. And again. How cruel is it that bean has panic attacks on the daily and gets comforted for it, and you all did this to me for my very first one. Rory told me he loved me more than hes ever loved anyone, he told me i could always talk to him if i was hurting, he told me it was okay, he reassured me he was there for me and that it was completely okay.Rory, you told me it was okay. You did. Then you disappeared without even saying goodbye. After 7 months of confusion, not understanding whats going on or whats even happening to me, or where ill sleep the next day. Constantly hurt and abused and hungry and infected, mourning everything i lost. You can never give me back my cat, or the opportunities i lost, my trans health care, my savings. You cant undo the immense pain I've felt and you cant reverse the trauma you've caused

Yes, I hurt you too. I did fucked up things, too. But not. And I repeat. Not until after 7 months of this mental and physical torture. I couldnt take it anymore

And I *still* kept trying. I *still* am. BECAUSE THATS WHAT YOU TOLD ME TO DO. My meds are at 220mg and excruciating, therapy is so incredibly confusing, but im still doing it even if i desperately dont want to. But you two can torture me, because you didnt want to talk to me for a few minutes, and explain what I didnt understand. Instead you left me in the dark. While you were both going to *another* con just moments later, and sleeping comfortably, and going to parties and weddings; i was still in the hospital, in incredible pain, for an incredibly long time, from events you directly caused. Do you understand the mental toll that does to a person? I went to hospital to hospital, reaching out, just more and more confused, just more and more hurt.

While im going through all this, as if im not a real human being behind your computer; besides peas ranting the only things i recieved are "man my notifications" "man this sucks" "Yeah I hate it" like im an "it" a toy or a thing. Parading my dead name is a close contender, but its the amount of lies that hurt me the most.I did not do revenge porn and post it on porn sites, I dont know where the hell you think you're doing making up something that serious. I did not ever have any kind of conversation with Rory OR Bean, I did not fake being in a coma for 2 weeks, I was very much fucking out. I've been telling the truth, even when its hard. Why cant you? Im not afraid to tell the truth.Communication and honesty are human things. My attempts have been very real and very painful, I made myself take pictures and I have the fucking discharge papers from every single one, because I've been telling the truth and can PROVE IT. I did so much I didnt want to do. I went through so much I didnt want to. You broke my boundaries and abused me, i gave up so much of myself and my safety and my life for you, and it was okay. But im now the criminal, your boundaries > my life. Your notifications>my human life.

Nobody's reading this, nobody gives a fuck, im never going to hear anything other then "maaaan this is so shitty, we destroyed his life and his mental and his job and his healthcare and we almost killed him with our neglect....but maaan hes really clogging up my notifications and that makes him the most evil, horrible, awful and disgusting person in the world. Let him die so I can get some quiet." And "Urgh omg I cant believe i have to post this". That's all it ever is. That's all its ever going to be. You hide behind an interent wall, pretending not to see the abuse you did to my body, my person, and my life

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merrinla · 2 days ago

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Post-Weisshaupt cut content

Bellara and Taash want to leave the party. Rook convinces them to stay. Varric supports Rook again, remembers Kirkwall, compares Taash to Fenris, and advises to listen less to Solas.

Rook - Bellara

Rook: Heard you were thinking of leaving. Bellara: No! Well. Yes. Maybe.

Bellara: What happened at Weisshaupt... at D'Meta's crossing... Bellara: Even what happened to Minrathous/Treviso? Bellara: Boy. That's... that's a lot. Rook: Weisshaupt was bad, but it would've been a hell of a lot worse if we hadn't been there.

Bellara: The way you lead this team. Focusing on the fight. Always talking about what's next. Bellara: You never stop. And that works-for you, and for most of the others. Bellara: But... I don't know if it works for me.

Option: Doesn't always work for me. Rook: Look, this leadership thing? Being in charge? It doesn't come with a map.

Option: You need to figure it out. Rook: I need your head in this, Bellara. And your heart.

Option: We need it to. Rook: We need you here, and we need you fighting.

Rook: We're fighting gods, Bellara. The only way we win this is to keep them off balance. Rook: We give them time to think, but we've seen what they can do. We can't slow down, not anymore. Rook: Because every time we pause to take a breath? Our enemies gain ground. Rook: But focusing on the fight? That's not a mistake. That's the only way to win. Rook: The fight is what keeps us focused. And it keeps us grounded. Bellara: Even if we're leaving a trail of broken bodies? Rook: I wish I had answers. But I don't.

Bellara: Solas was willing to let thousands of people die. Trading them for the greater good. Bellara: Without hesitation. Because to him, the ends always justify the means. Rook: No. Solas thinks he's the only one who can save the world. Rook: And I chose to save those lives. Even if it cost others. Rook: We've both made hard choices. But that's where the similarities stop. Bellara: The gods are out, Rook. Because of a choice you made. People died. Even if you didn't mean it to happen.

Option: I'm trying to make up for that. Rook: You're right. Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain are out because of a choice I made. Rook: The why matters, too. And Weisshaupt hurt. But we can't let our regrets slow us down. Rook: I don't regret it. It was the right choice, and I'd make it again. Rook: But the scales aren't tipped in my favour right now, so I'm doing anything I can to make up for it.

Rook: And, yeah. Solas would've killed so many more. Bellara: But maybe that's how it started. How he started. Bellara: Weighing lives on a scale. And justifying everything by which side's a little heavier.

Option: I worry about it, too. Rook: You know what haunts me in the night? That you could be right. Rook: I'm going to make mistakes, and I'm going to get things wrong. Rook: I saw what Solas' ritual was doing, the lives it was going to cost, and I acted. And people still died. Rook: And... I still think it was the right choice. I know it was. Rook: Weisshaupt hurt. And it'll always hurt. Rook: The why matters. But "why" doesn't mean shit if you don't back it up with action. Rook: So we never stop pushing. Rook: And now I'm asking you to stick around.

Bellara: But maybe that's the first step. Looking at lives as numbers. Not as people. Bellara: It helps, though. To know you're thinking about these things, too.

Bellara: I don't think Solas would've come here to talk to me. Rook: He might've. Solas loves to talk. Bellara: (Laughs)

Rook: You staying around, then? Bellara: Yeah. I think I am. Bellara: Thanks, Rook.

Bellara: Not the heart-to-heart I was expecting... but maybe the one I needed. Bellara: I think I'll take a walk, but... I'm around. Whenever you need me. Bellara: Just say the word.

Rook - Taash

Rook: Hey, Taash. Taash: What do you want? Shouldn't you be making a list of everyone who's gonna die if we mess up again?

Option: It's a lot of people. Rook: To be fair, it's a pretty big list. Taash: You gonna keep telling jokes while the world gets covered with blight? Rook: Well, I tried talking about how everyone was feeling, and that didn't help. Taash: Of course it didn't help!

Option: Leaving? Really? Rook: You running out on us? Taash: You gonna keep going with all that vashedan about our feelings? Rook: I'm trying to keep this team moving. And we're dead without a dragon hunter. Taash: We're dead either way!

Option: I know you feel bad. Rook: Taash, I know you're not feeling great right now... Taash: (Growls) It doesn't matter! Rook: Of course how you feel matters. Taash: No! It doesn't!

Taash: Ghilan'nain's Archdemon turned from a dragon into some horrible monster. Taash: The blighted dragons you brought me here to fight might do the same thing. Taash: And you're just telling me how important it is instead of giving me what I need to do it!

Option: The team needed this. Rook: I was trying to get the whole team to pull together. Taash: We're already together! We don't need to braid each other's hair to kill darkspawn!

Option: Bellara needed support. Rook: Bellara was in rough shape. She needed support right then and there. Taash: I need to know what I'm fighting and how to kill it! But we're wasting time talking feelings instead! That doesn't help anyone! Rook: It helped Bellara. Taash: It didn't help me!

Option: We're all hurting. Rook: Nobody came out of Weisshaupt feeling good, Taash. Rook: Davrin watched a lot of Wardens die. Lucanis is beating himself up for missing his shot. Taash: (Scoffs) They're fine. Davrin just needs to punch some darkspawn. Lucanis will get Ghilan'nain next time.

Taash: I don't know darkspawn. Or Venatori. All I know are dragons. If they've been changed... Rook: You don't have to know darkspawn. That's what Davrin is for. Lucanis and Neve are here for Venatori. Taash: At least they got their shot! At least they know what they're dealing with!

Rook: I don't think they see it that way. Rook: You help them, and we'll get whatever you need to handle these dragons.

Taash: I just... I don't want another Weisshaupt. Rook: Me neither.

Taash: We need to do better. I need to do better.

Option: I will get what you need. Rook: Taash, I promise you, we'll get you whatever you need to take down these dragons. Taash: Hey. I'll let you know what I need.

Option: I'm sorry. I messed up. Rook: (Sighs) Listen, Taash, I'm sorry. I'm still figuring out how to lead this team. Taash: Hey. Coming and apologizing is good leader crap.

Taash: You needed me to let you know I'd be there to help, and I didn't do that. That's on me. I'll do better next time. Taash: I will. I promise.

Taash: We can't have another Weisshaupt. We can't do that again. Rook: Agreed.

Option: We're all scared, damn it! Rook: You think you're the only one who's in over their head right now? None of us know what we're doing! Taash: I'm the one who has to stop the blighted dragons! Rook: We all got knocked down. Everyone else is getting back up to keep fighting. Taash: Why get up if I don't have anything to fight with? Rook: You gonna join us, or sit there and complain about it? Taash: What? So I get crapped on because I wasn't crying in front of everybody?

Taash: (Sighs) I'm gonna take some time. Punch something. Get my head on straight. Taash: But I'll be here if something comes up.

Rook: You are not doing this alone, okay? Taash: Okay.

Rook - Varric

Varric: Weisshaupt was a lot. You holding up all right?

Option: I'm sure you heard some of the shouting. Rook: I just talked with Solas. Which really didn't help after the day I've had. You probably heard the yelling. (reference to this) Varric: That little speech of yours left me worried. Where did that come from?

Option: I'm taking responsibility. Rook: The gods are loose because of us. Because of me. We have to stop them. We can't cry over the costs. Varric: What, it's too hard to think about the people you're trying to save, so it's better to just forget them? Rook: It's just reality. Varric: Rook, you can't escape from your feelings by working. Just ask my brother Bartrand.

Option: We have to keep working. Rook: We don't have time to stop and deal with this tragedy, Varric. Every minute we waste, the gods take more from us. Varric: You're not helping anyone by shutting down and focusing on work. You're making your team miserable. Rook: We have to face facts. We're fighting an overwhelming enemy, and people will die. We can't cry over each one.

Varric: You've definitely been spending too much time with Solas. Rook, Chuckles doesn't know what he's talking about. Varric: He never did. Don't take advice from someone who's broken the world twice. Three times, if you count this one.

Option: I'm scared to death. Rook: Honestly? I'm terrified. Ghilan'nain alone wiped out the Grey Wardens in their own stronghold. Rook: It took everything we had to kill her Archdemon, and she got away. No wonder Solas didn't try to fight them.

Option: I can't believe that happened. Rook: I'm honestly not sure how we go on. Rook: I think I'm in shock. So many people… gone just like that.

Option: We lost Weisshaupt. Rook: Varric. Weisshaupt is gone. The Grey Wardens… are gone. I have no idea what happens now.

Option: Varric. We're going to lose. Rook: Weisshaupt stood for a thousand years, and the gods just wiped it off the map. Rook: The Grey Wardens will never recover. I don't know if the world will.

Varric: Weisshaupt was bad. Anyone would be a wreck after that. But you're still standing. Rook: No, that was bullshit.

Rook: Taash isn't the only one who's pissed off after what happened. The Wardens should've been prepared! Rook: They had everything they needed! An army! A giant fortress! They even had an Archdemon trap, Varric! Rook: But they were so high on their own bullshit, they still fell! And took our chances of winning with them.

Rook (Grey Warden): And the Grey Wardens… we were supposed to be better than this. Our big battle finally came. And we failed.

Varric: Well, that sounds like self-defeating crap if I've ever heard it. Varric: How many stories did I tell you about Kirkwall? The Deep Roads expedition, the Qunari invasion, the Chantry… Varric: How many of my stories end with me stuck standing alone in ruins? Too many. Varric: There's no grand plan worth more than the people in the streets. Anyone who says otherwise is lying. Varric: Take it from someone who's worn a crown. The greater good is bullshit. Varric: Nobody fights for the world. They fight for the things in it that matter. So who are you fighting for? Really?

Faction option: The folks back home. Rook (Grey Warden): The Wardens were all I had. I have to do this for them. Rook: (Shadow Dragon) It's going to sound strange to say, "for Minrathous," but there are good people there… in and out of the Shadows. Rook (Antivan Crow): Viago's kind of terrifying, but the Crows are my family. I can't let Antiva fall. Rook (Veil Jumper): There's a lot of people still trying to fix Arlathan. I just want to give them the chance. Rook (Mourn Watch): I don't want to imagine the gods reaching the Grand Necropolis. It can't happen. Rook (Lord of Fortune): The other Lords, I suppose. They should never have to deal with this mess. Varric: That's a start. It's not enough to oppose evil. You have to care who lives to see your greater good arrive. Varric: Yeah, there's folks in Kirkwall I'm looking forward to seeing when this is over.

Option: The team. Rook: This team. Everyone here. This is all I've got, Varric. Varric: Right. Look after the team. You picked them for a reason. Varric: You've got to know you can't protect them from yourself.

Option: I don't know. Rook: I'm not sure I have an answer. Varric: My point is: You better know what you're not willing to lose. Looking away won't save them. Varric: You've still got the team, and you still have allies.

Rook: Bellara is gone. I don't know if she's coming back.

Rook: Taash is… gone. I don't know how to fix that.

Varric: The fight's not over until you give up.

Option: I won't. Rook: I wasn't planning to. Varric: No, you wouldn't. You're not the type to quit.

Option: Right. Back to the fight. Rook: Pick up the pieces and move forward. There's nothing else to do. Varric: Isn't that the truth?

Option: I don't know what to do. Rook: But I don't know where we go from here, or what comes next. Varric: Trust the team. Varric: You picked most of them, Rook. They're your team. Don't forget that.

Option: I'm hearing, "surrender." Rook: So, now would be a great time to retire to the Amaranthine Coast, I guess. Varric: It's never a good time to live out there. Rains more days than not. Varric: As bad as things are, you already have what you need.

Option: Want your old job back? Rook: If you make a sudden recovery, and want to take over for me, I won't say no. Varric: I would if I could.

Option: What about Bellara? Rook: How do I patch things up with Bellara? Varric: Give her some time to cool off, and then apologize. She cares too much to quit. Varric: And it wouldn't hurt to see if your resident dragon expert has any ideas.

Option: What about Taash? Rook: How do I patch things up with Taash? Varric: Let her cool off. Taash reminds me of Fenris sometimes. Has to hit something until she figures out what she's really mad about. Varric: And once Taash is back, maybe see if your dragon expert has any ideas.

Varric: You've got this, Rook. Don't worry.

Varric: You might want to check on Lucanis and Davrin to start. They were a little too quiet earlier. (maybe a reference to this)

#dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #dav #da datamine #bellara lutare #taash #varric tethras #varric #rook #weisshaupt

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javierduffy · 3 months ago

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different.

#can’t help but recognize how kieran is a fantastic unspoken representation of autism #i see a lot of myself in him and the way that he is so isolated and lonely and yet cannot help but perform and find solace in his daily #routines is so heartbreaking in its own way to me. like no matter what you do or where you are you have no choice but to be yourself and fun #nction the only way you know how and it will never not be vastly different from everyone else. and when you’re surrounded by people who DONT #like you and will not accommodate and are not at all willing or curious in understanding WHY you are the way you are you’re left to just ….#live in your own head forever. i’m certain kieran thinks many wonderous things and sees the world in a beautiful light and i know this becau #se i am autistic myself and because of that i see the world in colours that neurotypical people will never comprehend but we’re never allowe #d to see the world through kieran’s eyes. we are never allowed to see where his heart rests or the poetry he waxes or what he believes or wh #at his triggers are or what’s a stim and what’s just habit or anything. anything. the breeze sounds different to him and he can hear birds f #or miles and the sun makes every hair on his arms tingle and that’s why he wears layers everywhere and every green he sees sings a beautiful #song to him and yet we’ll never know. because he is too different even for the van der linde gang. he is incomprehensible to them and he doe #s all of his 4/5 daily tasks over and over and over again and while he would always do them and will always do them because they are innate #to him no one will ever know just what they mean to him. no one will ever know that kieran duffy can distinguish the horses behind him by th #eir breathing cadences behind him as he scrubs the spare saddle with the sun high above his head and he can know when something is wrong bec #ause he can hear it. no one will ever know that he CAN read but the only thing he’s interested in is books about wildlife and horses and fis #h in particular and no one will ever know because he knows no one will ever understand or even care and if they do they’ll be sure to make #it a point to tell him how DIFFERENT he is. and realistically even if the vdl’s DID come around to liking him he STILL would NEVER be unders #tood. i know for certain he would always be described as odd and despite its new affectionate approach he would still be the odd one out wit #h his daily routines and his texture preferences and his inability to make eye contact and his erratic seemingly random triggers and his #anxiety that seems to have a mind of its own. no one would ever know how bright the tree leaves are in his eyes or how every horse smells di #fferent or why sometimes it’s more fun to reel his rod in over and over instead of actually catching a fish. he will always be …. different.#sorry. novel moment. he means a lot to me.#i’m not super happy with how he looks in these but i’m just trying to draw more :’) i always say that but i always mean it too #also if my novel makes no sense then just ignore it. it’s late and my head hurts. i tend to get tangential #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #kieran duffy #image #art #hero draws sometimes

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imattertooiexistt · 1 day ago

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Yes, I hurt you too. I did fucked up things, too. But not. And I repeat. Not until after 7 months of this mental and physical torture. I couldnt take it anymore

Saguaro redraw from some years back! good ol long cactus

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imattertooiexistt · 1 day ago

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Yes, I hurt you too. I did fucked up things, too. But not. And I repeat. Not until after 7 months of this mental and physical torture. I couldnt take it anymore

Sambar Deer (Rusa unicolor) and Rufous Treepie (Dendrocitta Vagabunda) - Sariska National Park, India

Photographed by Naveen Kumar Singh‎

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statementlou · 11 months ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/louisupdates/754934426217152513/goodbye-faith-in-the-future-world-tour-272024?source=share

did he or did he not lose fans then?

I will answer this because this anon actually brings a concrete question to the table rather than just "hurhur but you're a larrie??" (tell me you can't actually refute any of our points…). Anyway this post shows the decrease in Louis instagram followers between the screenshots taken directly after the release of Faith in the Future in Nov '22, when he changed his bio to promote that album and the tour tickets, and now, when he changed it again to mention the current release. But I'm putting that response under a cut because I'm tired of the actual POINT of all this nonsense getting lost in a sea of made up things people insist are important:

There is no rational argument you can make to say that Louis has less fans now than he did 2, 4, or 6 years ago. You don't need a spreadsheet of details you need to USE YOUR EYES! He has gone from filling theaters to filling arenas and stadiums. His second album made a higher chart position than his first album. His festival has doubled in size EVERY year of its existence. And for that matter: his insta post engagement numbers remain about the same (despite the fact that older posts should have way MORE likes due to having been there longer, even aside from follower counts.) SO WHO FUCKING CARES ABOUT HIS INSTA FOLLOWER NUMBER???? Serious question: what does the word "fans" mean if these things aren't what matters? ALL of this quibbling about what he should do to make things better and people can't even see that THINGS AREN'T BAD.

Anyway to address the specific question- (con't......)

NO- HE DID NOT LOSE FANS. HE LOST SOME INSTA FOLLOWERS. THESE ARE NOT THE SAME THING. As I said above, literally what does it mean to lose fans if that number change coincides with him having higher sales, more audience members, and higher engagement than ever before? Whatever he lost ISN'T FANS. I wouldn't be surprised if a significant factor was something like a bot purge, but also yes: I'm sure a lot of casuals followed him around the time of his big album release and later unfollowed him. That's extremely normal because that's how casual engagement works, and why the definition of fan really matters. Louis and his team understand this and have referenced it repeatedly, talking about how lucky he is to have *us* specifically, to have the kind of dedicated fanbase he has, to have the KIND of fans he does who will allow him to do what HE wants. @dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram named the issue of depth vs breadth with regard to fans a long time ago, and pointed out why having DEPTH is so much more important. It's like this- artists who are on top 40 radio have more numbers on things like insta follows, and for a time on sales and tickets. But those aren't FANS- they're people with a casual interest. And as soon as that person isn't being forced in their ears 10x a day, those people lose interest and stop supporting them, stop buying stuff and unfollow, and those artists end up doing the 'opener on the jingle ball' circuit rather than their own tours. One Direction as a whole, and Louis maybe most of all or near to at this point, have something MUCH MORE VALUABLE than that- DEPTH FANS. Louis has fans who will support him even if he takes years to release music, or stops parading around with a pretend girlfriend to stay in the headlines at least once a month, or completely changes his image and genre, and that is UNHEARD OF. It's ASTONISHING and worth SO MUCH MORE. And they get that! THAT is why he always bragging about us, why industry people he works with are always so agog about us, why he will do anything for US- not for randos. He is also growing his breadth- and it's OBVIOUSLY WORKING whatever his follower counts are, but that is always going to be secondary to doing things for THE FANDOM because that is his sustainable business model. That is what keeps him onstage and reaching number one. And not coincidentally, the things they do are also working to grow that- much more valuable- commodity. So the fact that that's exactly what these chuckleheads complain about- that he does things that are just fandom facing or serving rather than everything being aimed at recruiting casual fans- does nothing but betray how completely they, unlike Louis and his team, misunderstand the actual drivers of his (actual, existing, happening) success. Luckily for Louis, he and his team rely on their own data harvesting (they do a LOT of it) and growth metrics (they're off the charts) rather than the smug assumptions of random (mostly quite new to this) fans and the few bitter people leading the complaining about everything Louis does.

#louis promo #all this nonsense about this tag or that tag or this or that number is so getting lost in the trees #when the forest is RIGHT HERE: WHAT THEY ARE DOING IS WORKING #so for now #I'm pretty done with this discussion unless someone actually engages meaningfully with the content of anything I'm saying #rather than just repeating the same things- but he needs to tag more! or the even more boring-#but you're a larry! if you send me a bitchy response that doesnt actually address any points I've made #I will assume it is because I'm right and you have no rebuttal other than to act like a preschooler because deep down you know it #honestly the discourse around this makes me feel a little sad and scared about the state of literacy and reading comprehension #and just general analytical thinking #but I hope its just that no one over 15 spends their time sending hate anons about fandom #if I'm wrong please come engage in actual conversation! but otherwise... let's just... not #blah blah blah #anyway there's a reason Louis is always so afraid no one will be there for him and that he started out solo era playing those radio fests..#because we are IMPROBABLE we are UNBELIEVABLE we are NOT SOMETHING YOU CAN EXPECT OR COUNT ON #and making nurturing and maintaining that his number one priority ALWAYS is extremely correct and smart #actually #I was originally going to be like here are when there were bot purges here are other artists that have seen numbers go down etc #but then I was like WAIT WHO CARES. You're letting these people dictate the conversation... but the premise is stupid #it DOESNT MATTER #depth v breadth

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youngpettyqueen · 1 year ago

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do you ever think about Garak waking up and seeing Julian in that chair, uncomfortably crammed in and slumped over asleep, and wonder how he must've felt when he realized Julian wasn't going to leave

#star trek: ds9 #elim garak #julian bashir #otp: I need to know that someone forgives me #Garak wakes up in a haze of pain and overstimulation and far too many feelings #and the first thing he sees is Julian asleep in that chair right at his bedside #after Julian has promised him he'll stay with him and help him through everything- no matter what he did #its one thing to give your word its another to follow through and theres Julian. following through #theres Julian staying by his side #im gonna chew on glass.#how do you think Garak feels about it afterwards #knowing that he responded by attacking him #Julian is hovering over Garak's bed in the infirmary checking his readings and chatting away with him #but then he turns a certain way and winces #he doesnt say anything but his hand goes to his back #Garak asks if he's alright and Julian waves it off #says he's fine he just slept wrong #but there's this look in his eyes. guilty almost #he doesnt want to say it #but Garak knows #god The Wire you will always be famous I think about you every day

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imattertooiexist · 1 day ago

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Yes, I hurt you too. I did fucked up things, too. But not. And I repeat. Not until after 7 months of this mental and physical torture. I couldnt take it anymore

festering

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koka-mi · 8 months ago

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Oh my gosh whyyyy am I so obsessed with numbers I don't like it at all this is driving me INSANEEEE😭😭IT'S GETTING WORSE AND WORSE AS THE DAYS GO BY AAAA

#IT'S SO WEIRD I HATE IT I HATE IT SO FCKING MUCH #I've had this weird relationship with numbers for years but it's gotten so much worse #I'm so obsessed with even numbers and odd numbers likeeee #I have even days and odd days?? that's what I call them anyways #where on even days everything has to involve even numbers and on odd days everything has to involve odd numbers #like those are my safe numbers for those days #and if I use the wrong number on the wrong day something bad will happen so I have to.I guess?? neutralize it?? somehow..#usually I figure out how in the moment but other times I just panic #likee for example today's an (I'm assuming) even day right now. so I have to have my tv volume on an even number #I have to eat an even number of food today #I CANNOT rb something on tumblr if I'm not on an even numbered reblog or I'm not an even numbered note... that makes no sense lemme explain #so I always have to like posts I reblog it's a rule I have for some reason. so in order for me to reblog a post #I have to land on an even number when I rb it #so for example if a post has 172 notes I'll like it which'll give it 173 notes then I'll rb which'll give it 174 notes #but if the post already has 173 notes before I liked it then I'll just like and not rb bcz if I rb it'll be 175 notes #which lands on an odd number and ahasbdhfbdsfaedw #it's the same for odd days just vice versa (it'd have to be on 177 though bcz 5 is an unsafe number for me rn)#YEAH 100% unsafe numbers for me are 3 5 6 and 9 and any number involving those numbers (so 26 and 13 are still unsafe)#basically no matter if it's an even day or an odd day I cannot land on anything with those numbers #and if I don't follow these rules my brain made up then something awful will happen or my day will go bad #or something I wanna do won't go well #thess numbers apply to EVERYTHING. and and it's SO ANNOYINGGGG. I've been trying to ignore it but it's getting harder and harder HELPPSADNF #I tried to tell my mom abt it but she just says “oh your grandma's also like that. you probably got it from her”#THANKS GRANDMA FOR THE NUMBER OBSESSION :'D #vent

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imattertooiexist · 1 day ago

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Yes, I hurt you too. I did fucked up things, too. But not. And I repeat. Not until after 7 months of this mental and physical torture. I couldnt take it anymore

falling star, show me what you really are

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sleeplesslark · 29 days ago

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For someone who rereads Kabuto's sections in the manga fairly regularly you wouldn't believe the amount of shit I just don't know about this guy.

#writing fanfic is hard #characterization is hard #not to be too whiny ultimately it truly doesn't matter #and I guess that's part of art generally #always chasing after the thing you're trying to say and unable to really spit it out #and looking at other people's stuff and feeling like they’ve got their shit more together #always a step behind always doing something wrong #could be more in character #could be more genuine #could be more creative #ultimately it's whatever I can give it #and what I can give always feels so lacking #not just in comparison to others #but a sentence coming out half formed #like trying to speak in a language you're barely fluent in #everyone else can just see the pointless stammering but I'm trying to say something #not even something beautiful just something that makes sense #fanfic thoughts

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ophierian-vp · 4 months ago

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#acmirage #assassin's creed #assassin's creed mirage #basim ibn ishaq #i was doing this stuff when i was at middle school while I was learning photoshop stuff by myself #when i was sharing at X(twitter) i saw people making big deals out of it but i was fed up with it and didn't understand their side #didn't wanted to share other than my photos - still kinda don't want to-#one day I shared one that made with a Witcher 3 shots of mine and said that I did this etc.#they took it the wrong way like I wasn't sure about it or sharing it and doubted myself on my works - I could see it in their comments #bc they were like 'if you like it doesn't matter what others think' kinda stuff and I didn't expected them to react like that #it never felt like encouraging but more like they're trying to pull you down and make you feel less #I love everything I share either way-some of them less some of them more than others- I wouldn't share otherwise #some people always like this while they're writing or saying good things but deep down you know they actually not.#so I still see some on IG and still don't understand why people do that to the photos #and then there are people like “oh they don't have to do anything to make you feel better or they don't have to like your stuff”#why do I do it then? Because as a decent person who have conscience it's a good thing to do-like people's stuff at least #I'm not an AI person behind this accounts

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imattertooiexistt · 1 day ago

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Yes, I hurt you too. I did fucked up things, too. But not. And I repeat. Not until after 7 months of this mental and physical torture. I couldnt take it anymore

Barn owl

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