#burying my head in the sand

[granma-sweetie]

whatever i just have to fuckinggg deal with the fact that he will never like me how i like him and he will never see me as i see him and he will never like someone like me. and i just have to get over it i guess

[secondstar-acorn]

IT'S OUT NOPE NOPE NOPE

[shitouttabuck]

prompt #1 constant physical touch to feel safe 🥹 would make me so happy

(#35 made me laugh because "ok YOU'RE my problem")

hello! also requested by @murder-trio and another anon :)

prompts: 1 constant physical touch to feel safe + 35 your problem is my problem

baby, can i hold you?

buck/eddie | 3.6k | rated t

Eddie shakes his head, biting his lip as he tries to inhale evenly. “M’okay,” he croaks. “Just gotta—make this Jell-o body work.” Buck approaches him, slowly, carefully straddling the bench before him, face to face. “D’you want me to talk you through it?” Eddie shakes his head again, wet hair flopping into his face. “I don’t know why it’s not working. I’ve been—for, like, twenty minutes now. Longest shower of my life.” His attempt at light-heartedness falls a little flat with the way his voice trembles when he says it. He groans, frustrated as his whole body quakes like it’s seizing, clenching his fists even harder before giving up and wrapping his arms firmly around himself, like if he holds himself tight enough the shaking might stop. His eyes are squeezed shut, and Buck feels something inside him crack when this helpless, devastated sob wracks his body, eyelashes clumped with tears he’s not letting fall. “Fuck,” he says, wobbly. “I just—God, I feel fucking insane. I know, logically—fuck.” “What do you need?” Buck asks again. “What can I do?” Eddie makes a frustrated noise. “I don’t know. I don’t know why this won’t stop.” “Okay,” Buck says, trying desperately to think of what he finds comforting when he’s in a bad place. Or what Eddie reaches for when he needs comfort. The answer is simple enough—a literal reach for each other, reassurance in the magnetism with which they lean into the other’s orbit. A hand on a shoulder, a press of bodies beside each other, a nudge of knees under the table. “Can I, uh. Can I touch you?”

or, eddie panics. buck holds him.

read on ao3

[welcometogrouchland]

I miss them so bad (Dick and Damian)

[piratekane]

and now, the continuation of Hell's Kitchen forever roommates

“What if they don’t like me?”

Beatrice frowns and pauses for a moment on the sidewalk. Ava goes two steps past her before she stops and looks back, her own frown on her face. 

Ava fills her confused silence. “Oh, god. They’re not going to like me.”

Beatrice sees a large group of students walking towards them and grabs for Ava instinctively, pulling her out of their orbit. It puts them on the road and into a small snowbank, but Beatrice can worry about the snow seeping in through the mesh of her sneakers another time, when Ava’s forehead isn’t pinched together in worry.

“Why wouldn’t they like you?” 

She’s curious, because she’s not sure she’s met anyone who doesn’t like Ava. Granted, she’s known Ava for 3 weeks tomorrow - she’s hardly counting the days, she just had a substantial paper due that day and she had been treating herself to a macchiato with a double shot, just because, when Ava crash landed at her table - but in that time, she’s seen Ava meet at least two dozen people and every single one of them walked away with a smile on their face.

But the confident Ava she’s known over the last 3 weeks is not the girl in front of her, nervously bouncing onto the tips of her toes with an almost frenetic energy that Beatrice could reach out and wrap her hand around. She wonders what would happen if she did, if she reached out and put a hand on Ava’s shoulder. Her hands, now pushed deep into her pockets, flex at the idea. 

They’re just… not those kinds of friends. Beatrice is not that kind of friend with anyone, really. Maybe Lilith, in their own way, after years growing up at the same political parties forcing each other into the other’s orbit. And Camila is tactile, but seems to understand that Beatrice needs her space, and she reserves hugs for extra special occasions, still not quantifiable to Beatrice on any level.

Ava squirms in front of her and Beatrice’s hand clenches into a fist so tightly that she can feel the pinch of her fingernails in the soft skin of her palm. The big clock tower in the center of the quad chimes once, twice, twelve times. Noon exactly.

“Well, for example, I’m making us late.” Ava points into the sky, presumably towards the clock tower. “And I forgot my hat. You know how much better I look in my hat.”

She doesn’t, because she’s never seen Ava in a hat before. But she understands the anxiety of meeting new people. So she smiles calmly and clenches and she takes a step closer to Ava. “We reviewed this, didn’t we?”

Ava’s head bobs up and down, face open. Beatrice likes this, that she can tell Ava is listening to her and taking in what she’s saying. “Yes.” Ava nods again. “We went over everyone already. You…” Ava’s mouth lifts in just one corner. “You were very thorough.”

She swallows a little tightly. “You wanted to be prepared.”

“I did. I do!” Ava sways forwards, hands outstretched as if she’s going to reach out and grab Beatrice, shake her into understanding that she means it. “I’m just… I’m nervous. I don’t meet new people all the time.”

Beatrice can’t stop the snort of surprise. It’s inelegant and loud and a trickle of embarrassment runs cold down her spine. She schools her face and lifts her chin into the air just a little. “Ava, I’ve seen you meet at least 10 new people this week alone.”

Ava opens her mouth and snaps it closed again. “Okay,” she finally says, stilling for a moment. “But those people didn’t matter. These people do.”

Yes, they do. They matter to Beatrice more than nearly anything else in her life. Her friends have become her family over the last few years. They’ve seen her at her worst, celebrated her best moments. Lilith is the one she calls on the days when her parents’ letters find their way into her mailbox. Camila is her self-appointed study buddy, keeping her from setting up camp in the library. Mary and Shannon keep her company on the nights when Beatrice feels like she just needs some quiet but doesn’t want to be alone.

She wasn’t aware she had made Ava feel the same way.

“They’re going to like you.” She says confidently, like she already knows.

It’s been 3 weeks and she already knows she likes Ava. Enough to share her favorite table in the student center. Enough to let her strict study time slip away without noticing. Enough to take Ava’s quiet admission of not knowing a lot of people and immediately telling this strange girl who appeared seemingly out of nowhere that she could meet her friends, if she wanted to.

Ava exhales loudly. “You’ll still like me, even if they don’t, right?” That nervous energy is back. Beatrice gets as far as letting her hand drop from her pocket, but it stays firmly against her side. “It won’t change your mind?”

She can’t possibly know that. Her friends are good judges of character. They immediately saw that Lucia was going to be a problem, even though Beatrice hadn’t thought so. And they were right. If something was wrong with Ava, they’d tell her. 

The problem is that, even if they did find something wrong with her, she’s not sure she’d want to know.

So she says, “I’ll still like you,” with her full chest and it seems to soothe some of Ava’s nerves. She settles a little, body coming to a resting state and her shoulders rolling back. She smiles and it seems strong, steady. The crowd passes them on the sidewalk and Beatrice steps back onto it, waiting for Ava to slide in alongside her. Their shoulders bump, their elbows brush.

“I’m going to knock this out of the park,” Ava says, a sudden gust of confidence in her words. “You know that?”

Beatrice doesn’t know, but she believes her. The cold winter air bites at her cheeks and she ducks her head against a slight breeze but Ava turns her face into it, eyes closed slightly and a small smile on her face. Beatrice watches her for a moment. She’s so… free. It’s one of the first things Beatrice noticed about her - how unburdened she seemed to be.

They’re slipping into the student center before she knows it and she soaks in the warmth, unbuttoning her thick winter coat. Ava is back to bouncing again, each step pushing her up into the air a little bit. Beatrice heads towards the small section of tables near the entrance to the science building where she knows her friends are waiting for her.

They’re not those kinds of friends, but Ava reaches out and grabs her arm, squeezing tightly. “This is going to be great.” Beatrice knows she’s saying it more for her own benefit than Beatrice’s so she smiles and nods in agreement, arm burning through the thick wool of her coat where Ava’s hand is wrapped around it.

Ava doesn’t let go and walks at an odd angle, half-dragging Beatrice beside her.

Mary spots them first. Beatrice prides herself on knowing her friends and she can tell Mary is surprised. At Ava or the fact that she’s pulling Beatrice behind her like the wake of a speedboat, she’s not sure. But Beatrice gives nothing away, not challenging the look on Mary’s face as it goes from surprise to curiosity. Mary smacks Shannon in the shoulder lightly, nodding towards their strange approach. Lilith looks up from her phone, eyes narrowing in on Ava and Beatrice sends up a silent prayer that Lilith’s bark is worse than her bite today. Camila turns, face brightening.

“Beatrice!”

Beatrice smiles fondly and she feels Ava looking at her, mirroring her. Ava drags her the last few feet and comes to a stop just outside of the small circle the others have created.

“Hi!” She grins, eyes moving from person to person. “I’m Ava.”

Camila and Shannon smile. Mary nods again, a silent greeting. Lilith stands, spine perfectly straight, and stares down at Ava. Ava, to her credit and Beatrice’s amusement, just smiles a little wider.

“You’re Lilith,” she guesses.

Lilith’s eyes cut to Beatrice. “What gave that away?”

“Beatrice won’t shut up about your smile.”

Mary snorts, not bothering to cover the sound. Camila hides her smile. Lilith continues to look Ava over with narrowed eyes before her chin tips almost imperceptibly - a silent fine, she can stay. Beatrice feels a rush of relief settle in her stomach that surprises her. She didn’t know she cared so much about Lilith’s opinion.

“I’m Camila.” Camila sticks her hand out and Ava finally lets go of Beatrice’s arm, looking curiously at it before shaking it. “Beatrice won’t stop talking about you.”

“That’s not true,” she says at the same time as Ava turns to her and says, “I knew it.”

Beatrice shakes her head. “You knew nothing. Maybe I’m not saying anything nice.”

Ava pushes her hand into her pocket and rocks to one side, shoulder knocking into Beatrice. “Oh, come on. I’m pretty great. You can admit that. You don’t have to show off for your friends.”

“Yeah, Beatrice,” Mary drawls. “Don’t show off for us.”

“Mary,” Ava says. Her eyes are bright. “Beatrice says a lot about you.”

“Oh, so she’s saying things about us.” Mary crosses her arms over her chest, eyebrow raised in challenge. “What’s she saying?”

“She’s saying-” Ava’s eyes cut to her and then she slams her mouth shut, miming pulling a zipper across her lips. Her shoulder bumps Beatrice’s again as she shakes with a silent, unexplained laugh.

A curious feeling comes over Beatrice. It almost feels like fondness. Which can’t be true, of course. Because she’s known Ava for 3 weeks tomorrow and that’s certainly not enough time to be… enamored by someone. She’s known her barista longer than that and has nothing but passing gratitude for her and the extra shot she sometimes surprises Beatrice with. She’s known her advisor since freshman year and she’s only ever felt appreciation for him. 

Fondness is something reserved for her friends, not someone so new like Ava.

“Nothing but nice things,” she finally says.

“Well, we’ve heard nothing but the same about you,” Camila fills in. She loops her arm through Ava’s, pulling her closer to the couch she’d abandoned a moment ago. Ava looks back at Beatrice over her shoulder before sitting down next to Camila. “So, tell me about yourself. Beatrice says you’re a freshman.”

Mary sidles up next to her, her shoulder replacing the feeling of Ava’s. “She seems… excitable. Is she.. Is she wiggling?”

Beatrice looks. Yes, Ava is moving animatedly, hands moving in wild circles as she tells Camila and Shannon something and Lilith looks on with mild disapproval. She smiles. She knew Camila would immediately pull Ava into a conversation where she could… Well, Beatrice can admit to herself that Ava is charming. And that charm seems to extend to everyone, Beatrice included.

“Beatrice nearly caught bedbugs from her freshman year roommate,” Shannon is telling her now. “What was her name again? Crimson?”

Ava’s nose wrinkles. “That’s a name?” She shrugs it off. “My roommate isn’t bad. Chanel is definitely cooler than me. She goes to all the campus parties. But she’s moving out at the end of the semester and I’m going to get stuck with someone new.” She pouts, bottom lip pushed out dramatically. “I don’t want to live there anymore.”

“Beatrice has a spare room opening up. Don’t you, Beatrice?” Camila looks at her over Ava’s head and Beatrice does an admirable job of keeping her face neutral. Ava is still, effectively, a stranger. And Beatrice knows well enough that you don’t invite a stranger to move in with you. Though, she supposes that freshmen do, in fact, move in with strangers. Still. Beatrice won’t do it. Camila is still smiling. “You guys should talk about it.”

Mary must feel the way she’s suddenly pulled rigid. Because that shoulder presses warmly against her and Mary sucks her teeth for a second before she leans forward and exhales. Beatrice braces herself. Mary looks like a father ready to interrogate the boy picking up her daughter for the night. Beatrice’s forehead wrinkles at the thought as it comes on suddenly. What a strange thing to think. 

“So, Ava. Any extracurriculars? What do you do on the weekends? Any criminal history we need to know about?”

Ava, to her credit, places her hands on her knees and straightens up higher than Beatrice has seen her so far - 3 weeks tomorrow, she thinks. Not a lifetime - as she thinks of her answers. “No criminal history, yet. Though Chanel has informed me that I’ve committed many crimes against fashion. I don’t think she appreciates my minion pajamas, though. She should. They’re the most comfortable thing besides not wearing pants.” She purses her lips. “As for extracurriculars… none yet. Though, there’s a rock climbing place nearby that the intramural team goes to sometimes! One of the guys in my math class told me about it.”

Camila immediately pouts. “I want to go to the rock climbing place.”

“We should!” Ava looks around, excitement effusing from her. “We could do that. I think they do group discounts.”

“Someone won’t do it with us,” Camila continues, pointedly not looking at her.

Ava looks at each of their faces before her eyes settle on Beatrice. “You don’t want to go rock climbing? Why not?”

Beatrice has a myriad of reasons: the chalk is is supposedly notoriously difficult to get out of clothes, the place seems to be crowded with college students and little kids at birthday parties, the workers there are college students and she wouldn’t trust them to hold open a door let alone keep her suspended above the ground. And most importantly, a thought she keeps to herself: she’s not sure she’ll be good at it.

Then Ava does something Beatrice knows is going to be ruinous. She turns her whole body towards Beatrice, that same open look on her face, head tipped to one side as a slight smile starts to build in the corner of her mouth. “I think you should try it. And I think you should try it with me.”

All of the reasons, carefully crafted into an argument she used with Mary and Camila and Shannon and Lilith, evaporate. They disappear into Ava’s hopeful smile. Every part of her that rebelled against the idea, that kept her refusal steadfast, is gone in the instant that Ava nods encouragingly.

“Okay,” she hears herself say. 

Though, it can’t actually be her, Because she said no to this the last three times she was asked about it. But it is her. Camila lets out a small excited cheer, Shannon smiles, Lilith’s face flickers in approval, Mary stares at her openly, and Ava beams.

“Rock climbing!” Ava looks around excitedly. “You guys must not have tried hard to change her mind very hard.” They’re not those kinds of friends but Ava reaches over and grabs Beatrice’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “That was so easy,” she laughs.

Mary is still staring at her. She feels it against the side of her face and she refuses to turn towards her. She lifts her chin into the air slightly, pointedly, and does a good job pretending all of her attention is on Ava asking Camila about the right kind of shoes and whether or not she'll be able to climb without a harness. They’re tight, she’s saying.

Mary bumps into her again and she finally has to look. “That was so easy.” She mimics Ava quietly enough that no one hears them. “Tell me, Beatrice. Did we not try hard enough?” There’s a smirk growing on her face, a telltale sign that Mary knows the answer to her own question.

So Beatrice doesn’t bother offering a different one.

“I like her,” Mary says after another minute of stretched out silence. “I think she’s going to be good for you.”

Beatrice frowns. “Good for me?” She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. I think she’s going to be a terrible influence.”

Mary sneaks a hand to her elbow. “I think maybe you need that every once in a while. Makes you a little more human.” She squeezes Beatrice’s arm, taking the sting out of the words. “Better stop her before Camila ropes her into something though. Because the two of them seem dangerous together.” Mary slips away, back to Shannon’s side.

Beatrice watches Ava, still animated, going on too quickly for Beatrice to tune into and keep up with. Even Lilith looks less disgruntled than usual, a rare flicker of a smile on her face so briefly that Beatrice could have possibly imagined it. She thinks of Ava’s question, so foolishly asked. What if they don’t like me?

Another thought worms its way inside her brain. What if they like her too much? 

What if I like her too much?

But Ava looks back at her and smiles and Beatrice just simply tucks that thought away for later. Apparently, she’s going rock climbing.

[fuckinart]

(they'll never understand) How could I ever understand? No, I don't have to understand. I don't wanna understand. So I will never understand. (we could have everything)

[mellosdrawings]

Happy Halloween trick or treat the treat is getting n2 squad in an actual event. The trick is that it’s a lost in the book event and they might forget EVERYTHING at the end 💀

...........

Fuck. I forgot about that detail.

[crimeronan]

one of my new year's resolutions was to find a lot more musicians of color to listen to & it's just occurred to me that i have a TON of time to do so since i'm walking so much now. please rec me your fave musicians/bands of color and/or your fave songs?

if it helps, things i Really Really Like include:

rock/metal

acoustics

string and woodwind instruments

instrumentals in general

angry women

poetic lyrics

emo angst bull shit

genre blending (especially infusing traditional cultural music with metal elements and vice versa)

things i Prefer To Avoid:

super heavy bass / electronic elements

i think that's.... about it. bass/electronica are just not good for me sensory-wise.

also lyrics do not need to be in english! and these are just notes on my usual taste in case it helps ppl come up with recs. fling whatever u want at me. Pls 🙏

[valtsv]

okay fine i'll read homestuck. whatever. i've cracked i can't take it anymore i need to fuck around and find out.

[the-obnoxious-sibling]

i know the easiest way to resolve my two wolves dilemma about the near miss notfic is for buggy to be the one in disguise, okay? i know. i just haven’t been able to figure out why he’s in disg—okay, no, i’ve got it now.

(another self-indulgent “shanks/buggy post-roguetown, pre-luffy” encounter below the cut)

buggy, lately called “the clown,” is not usually a pirate given to subtlety or discretion. he wants word of his wicked deeds to spread far and wide! if people are afraid of him, they’ll give in faster, so he won’t have to work as hard to get what he wants!

but usually, there aren’t rumors of monkey d. garp in the area.

buggy’ll thumb his nose at most any marine, but garp is an exception. that guy has a monstrous strength on his old captain’s level, plus he’s equally famous for his incorruptibility and his bullheadedness. all in all somebody buggy absolutely does not want to deal with.

and sure, his bounty as it is probably doesn’t warrant a vice-admiral’s involvement, but garp’s been around a long time. he might recognize buggy as “one of roger’s brats.” and while they never had bounties of their own back then, surely the marine still want their heads. they went after tom, for fuck’s sake, there’s no way buggy is safe.

so until he hears from a reliable source that garp has left this particular corner of east blue behind, buggy is not leaving the sanctuary of his ship without a thorough disguise.

he’s gone without his distinctive makeup, of course. his hair he’s tied up and tucked away under an old knit cap, which he’s sewn an ink-black wig to the lining of to better conceal his identity. he even rubbed a bit of ink into his eyebrows to be doubly sure. and, last but hardly least, he’s chop-chopped his nose off, sticking an ordinary-looking prosthetic in its place with spirit gum that will be very annoying to remove later—but better a little adhesive rash than prison.

looking in his mirror at a stranger, buggy sighs, clapping his hands together. “right!” his ship needs a resupply, and buggy sailed his favorite little skiff here to take care of it so he doesn’t have to explain this disguise to his crew. “rope, sailcloth, gunpowder, food,” he mutters as he heads out. just a few essentials for any sailing vessel, nothing obviously piratical about it. a perfectly safe supply run.

a squad of marines go thumping past, and buggy can’t hold back a flinch at the sight.

he breaths in deep. this will be fine. all he has to do is not draw attention to himself, and…

“hey, you!”

buggy freezes, and fights the urge to turn around. freezing is bad enough, that would make him look super guilty. and anyway, with a call like that how could anyone possibly know who the marines are after?

“you in the hat!”

ah, fuck. buggy can’t lose the hat, that’s half his disguise gone right there. he glances back, curses under his breath when it sure looks like that squad of marines is coming for him, and makes a break for it.

“this is navy business!”

“stop!”

“like hell,” buggy mutters, rounding a corner into an alleyway. he blinks when he hears his own words doubled, and realizes there’s been someone else running from the marines the whole time. ah, shit, was he even their target after all? has he been running for his life for no reason? he turns to give the guy what for and just about chokes on his tongue, because—

well, because it’s shanks.

same stupid, distinctive hair, same stupid, distinctive hat. a cape, which is more style than buggy would have expected shanks to develop, but which is also stupid and distinctive. a pretty nasty scar over one eye. buggy takes his first reaction to that—i wouldn’t have let that happen!—and violently shoves it down into the bottom of his soul, where stupid thoughts go to die. what-ifs don’t matter, what matters is this entire guy is stupid and distinctive.

shanks gives him one of those soft-hearted, empathetic looks buggy always hated. “ah, sorry, i think i got you tangled up in my business.”

…he doesn’t recognize buggy.

good! this is good, this is—salvageable, anyway! buggy clears his throat, tries to throw his voice a little higher, speak a little more politely. anything to avoid that soft look becoming one of recognition, or that awful heartbroken look from all those years ago. “that’s okay! anything to inconvenience the marines.”

as the rhythmic sound of boots thumping gets closer, an idea occurs to buggy. “speaking of…” he grabs hold of shanks’ cape, pausing only when shanks puts a hand on his wrist and gives him a wary look. right, shanks doesn’t know him from adam like this. “sometimes it’s better to fight smarter, not harder.”

shanks considers him for a moment. he lets go of buggy’s wrist.

permission granted, buggy moves quickly. goodbye, stupid hat! flip the cape around, the lining’s a different color so that will do nicely. adjust the closure so the fabric that’s supposed to be the top hem instead functions as a hood, all the better to hide that hair and scar… sure, it probably won’t hold up to a close inspection, but who needs it to? low-level marines are idiots.

buggy leans back against the alley wall and spreads his legs wide to make himself shorter and easier to hide. when shanks doesn’t seem to get the memo, buggy rolls his eyes and tugs him closer, until shanks is standing almost too close for propriety, his cape hiding both of them from view.

hands pressed to the wall above buggy’s shoulders, shanks stares at him intently, an eyebrow going up as they hear the marines run past without giving their hiding spot so much as a first glance, let alone a second. “impressive,” he says.

buggy snorts. “naturally.”

something about this response amuses shanks, who smiles, drops one hand on buggy’s shoulder, and squeezes. “thanks for the save, gorgeous.”

buggy’s mind goes blank.

well, mostly. “gorgeous?!”

shanks frowns, though his eyes are still smiling. “don’t tell me nobody’s ever called you ‘gorgeous’ before.” buggy doesn’t react—has no idea what shanks is doing—as that hand slides up his shoulder, his neck, to cup his cheek. shanks leans just that little bit closer, taking the lack of space between them from the appearance of improper to actually improper. buggy still has no idea what shanks is doing until his thumb starts to rub small circles near the corner of buggy’s eye. “that’s just not possible. i mean, your eyes alone are stunning…”

he knows that move. shanks told him about that move, about the barmaid who’d used it on him the first time, using a compliment about shanks’ eyes as an excuse to touch his face, right before she—

it’s a very sweet kiss. probably the kind of kiss buggy would have expected of shanks, if he’d ever let himself think of things like “shanks” and “kissing” at the same time before. (face hot, it occurs to him that maybe the way he’d always violently shut down such thoughts might mean something. he violently shuts down this line of thinking.) shanks pulls back after a brief moment, a curious look in his eye that buggy takes to mean ‘more?’

whatever look happens to be on buggy’s face must say ‘no’ for him—though probably not in as insistent a tone as he’d like, his mind is still pretty fuzzy—because shanks steps back, casually giving buggy space. like of course after… that… all he wants is to fix his cape and retrieve his hat.

“wh…?” is all buggy can manage.

an eyebrow goes up, and shanks smiles a little smugly as he slides that stupid hat back into place. “like i said. thanks for the save.” and with that, he’s gone.

buggy’s knees give out.

he spends ten minutes sitting in that alleyway, definitely not remembering anything that just happened in particular detail, or wishing he’d answered an unspoken question in a different way. eventually he remembers that he has duties to attend to, and he’d better attend to them soon if he want to get off this island today.

which he does.

he certainly doesn’t have any reason to want to stick around here.

no sir.

“rope, sailcloth… limes?” suddenly buggy can’t remember the last thing on his list. well, it can’t be that important if it was the last one, right? right. surely they can go without… whatever… until after garp’s gotten tired of this part of east blue.

because buggy is never going out in disguise ever again.

[starleska]

part two of my Lex Luthor propaganda crusade. have a taste of this smug rich asshole

pal i'm dying because you put in that first gorgeous image of Lex in the suit and i literally just replied to part one of your ask with it 😳😳😳 stOP TRYING TO CONVERT ME HE'S REALLY PRETTY-

[alannah-corvaine]

this screenshot is a mess, i don't like whatever i did with the camera, but i'm posting it anyway because it ate two hours of my time.

[bharv]

God I am really in the pit today lads

[kenandeliza]

practicing a rendering technique

featuring captain marvel jr using the flourish color palette

i redid his cheeks 6 times (took me 30 minutes lol)

rendering is hard and i wondered why i even bothered ;w;

here’s a speedpaint if you’re interested, the actual process is 3 hours so this thing is a bit too sped up :p

imma go ahead and stop drawing for a bit, the drawing itself somehow became too embarassing for me after a double look xD

[il-predestinato]

This is going to be a very controversial take. To everyone saying they would prefer for the drivers to speak up about sexual harassment - while I agree in general it would be good for anyone to speak up about it, in this particular situation I don't expect them to, and I don't think any of the drivers are in the wrong for not speaking up about it.

If this was a clear and cut SA case, then yes, I would expect them to speak out about it more.

However, firstly, there has been no clear resolution yet and we can see this SA case has been turned into a power struggle at RBR. Any of the drivers speaking out to defend the accuser are therefore implying that Horner is guilty of SA will show as them taking a stance on the issue and being on Helmut and Jos' side of wanting Horner out. You may say 'oh they're not commenting on RBR, they're not taking Helmut/Jos' side, they're just defending the victim'

Like it or not, the victim, though she had to go through an awful situation, is being used as a pawn in this power struggle. No one can speak about purely the harassment allegations without indirectly implying their stance in the other stuff happening at RBR.

Is it terrible for the victim? Abso-fucking-lutely. But unfortunately they have militarized this situation.

So no, I don't expect the other drivers to say anything. I would be shocked if anyone did. If anyone did say anything, their words would be twisted.

I am not defending those who are saying it is 'just noise'. But any 'no comment' response or changing the subject or avoiding answering - I don't blame them for doing that and I think that's valid.

no one is demanding the drivers open themselves up to lawsuits and start making accusations, but it’s really not that hard to say “i cannot legally comment on an internal investigation, but i support transparency, fairness, and workplace safety for everyone in f1.”

[eroticcannibal]

Seeing ppl try to defend Harris's wording regarding trans ppl and how it's secretly super pro trans she is the hugest trans ally and I'm just here like wow this sounds earily like the start of all the UK anti trans bullshit how many years before you get a cass review? Bet it won't be many