#home organiser melbourne

[organisingplatform]

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[mahmoud-gaza]

Hello my friends

I am Mohammed, I live in Gaza, I am 14 years old , while I was in a tent made of cloth ⛺️💔

I still live in a tent until now, and in the midst of the intense heat, epidemics, insects, and unclean water, I still live. 🇵🇸

I hope you will help me save my future and travel abroad so that I can complete my education and rebuild my home 🙏🏼🍉.

Vetted by @gazavetters , my number verified on the list is ( #141 )

[mohammednafez]

From Gaza 🇵🇸, please help me save my family from war🙏

I'm tired of begging the world to help me. For the sake of my family 😭😭

Can you help me and my family to have a better life than this one?

🍉😭😭

Help me to protect my family. Our home was destroyed, our life and our future were ruined. Help me with a little so that I can get my daily sustenance.

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters , my number verified on the list is ( #201 )✅️

@gazavetters @treeen @khanger @wellwaterhysteria @styleatacertainage @sealsdaily

@nabulsi27 @-taylorswift- @stalinistqueens

@sealbf @moveslikekeithrichards @palestinegenocide @queerstudiesnatural @90-ghost @northgazaupdates2 @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @thehopeofroby @servalias @polyypocket @lesbianboy @leolaroot @clementine-kesh @shadow-banned-the-hedgehog @khanger @antikristvs @nabulsi27 @appsa

@styleatacertainage @a-shade-of-blue

@transmutationist

[mohammednafeez]

The war is over and we have no place to live. My family and I help us spread my link and donate to me. So that our lives and our home can be built and we can find a place to live. If you do not donate, my family and I will remain in the street with no one to protect us. Help me for the sake of my family. I am your brother Mohammed😭🙏

Help us to revive my family's life 🙏

@90-ghost @nabulsi27 @northgazaupdates2 @khakiest

[stil-lindigo]

ABC News in Australia covers the story of how community groups all over the country are coming together as a community to provide for returning Gazan families.

El Rahman Inc. stands at the forefront of this community effort in Naarm/Melbourne, and on the organisation’s Instagram page, regularly posts updates on what supplies are currently needed. It accepts monetary and supply donations at drop off points (which are currently closed until the 28th Dec).

The PCIA has also been instrumental in organising resources for returning Palestinian families. For more widespread support not limited to Melbourne, please consider donating to the Arab Council of Australia, another independent non-profit which has a long history of supporting their community. They are based in New South Wales, which is home to Australia's largest population of Arabic-speaking Australians.

--

ABC's news report also highlights that between October 7 and November 20, Home Affairs granted 860 visas to Palestinians, including those seeking to depart Gaza. However, what they fail to give proper attention to is the fact that Israel has been preventing Palestinians from leaving.

[ link ]

Of the around 860 visas distributed, only 143 Palestinians have managed to successfully arrive in Australia, with the number of new names being added to 'the list' falling to a pathetic degree. To understand the grave conditions of Palestinians awaiting safe passage, this is a great article to read. And although politicians like Penny Wong insist they are doing everything in their power to help Palestine in this time, Australia still shamefully stands by its strongest ally, the US, and actively provides military surveillance of the Gaza Strip to Israeli sources through Pine Gap, a military base in Alice Springs.

In this time, it is imperative to maintain pressure on the Australian government. Protest and vocal pro-Palestine movement is the only thing that caused Australia to eventually vote for a ceasefire in the recent UN resolution, after their cowardly performance earlier. Resources like vic_socialists on Instagram, regardless of where you may stand on their performance as a party itself, has been outstanding in organising regular protest movements across all of Victoria. APAN also maintains a list of pro-Palestine events all around Australia on their website, although I'm not sure at this point if it's exhaustive.

[saintescuderia]

pancakes (pt. 6)

AKA - the story of how the naive australian rookie befriended the gym junkie F1 hospitality worker with the shoe collection - and inadvertently broke the grid's most treasured and unspoken rule: you don't go for y/n.

series masterlist here :) // the pancakes recipe here :)

antinal reference ;)

A/N: to make up for being MIA (and that this sunday might be another miss) here's a double update. enjoy.

P6 - pre-workout for jet-lag

You still found it odd to call Australia home.

You had mixed feelings about the country stamped across the front page of your passport. Your auntie had been the one to organise the papers so that Australian would be your identification. Never mind the hospital bed in Monaco that you were birthed.

Still, your travelling auntie’s own experiences meant that when you came into her care, she would raise you Australian. Never mind any of the other stuff. 

So, when you walked into the house in Melbourne, you were met with a Middle Eastern lady playing French music, dressed in a Korean football jersey, cooking Greek food with chopsticks. Such was the life of a nomadic English teacher that was your aunt Nadia. Dia for short.

“Ah, it's you." She sat, spying you hauling the suitcase through the door. She looked at the clock by the fridge and then frowned. "You weren't supposed to land yet."

"I landed an hour ago." You said. She looked at the clock again and took it off the fridge. She banged it with one hand and then shook her head, muttering under breath.

"I'm sorry. Did you take an Uber?"

"No. Oscar gave me a lift." Well, technically his father had driven the car.

Oscar’s parents were apparently super excited to meet you and gushed all through the way about how glad they were that their son had you to help him through F1. They had even insisted on dinner but Oscar knew you had stayed up - you had made him do the same thing as you - and thankfully postponed it for a breakfast tomorrow after you both got to finally got to sleep. 

Upon leaving Jeddah, you had looked at the flight times and decided to overdose the 400mg of pre-workout and strategically place your workout just before leaving the hotel so that you and Oscar could both avoid the jet-lag many other F1 personnel were struggling with.

So far, it was on track to working. You just needed to push through a few more hours. To do so, Oscar was going to watch the footy. You were going to watch football.

“Ah, this young Oscar." Your aunt was nodding. "I like him. He has a trusting face.” She laughed at you, doing nothing to help but continue to watch you clamber into the well-loved and mis-matched dining furniture in her kitchen. “You hungry?”

“Tired.” You said, checking the time. It was 5pm but you were ready to knock out. Just a few more hours. You willed yourself to push through and avoid the jet-lag.

“Did you eat?”

You hadn’t. You never ate airplane food. 

The silence was answer enough as your auntie plated up some gyros for you. The smells of the seasoned meat filled your nose and your stomach rumbled at the site of it. You picked up your fork, ignoring the bread for the sake of your cut but helping yourself to tzatziki. 

"What's with the Korean jersey." You couldn't help but ask. You watched your auntie's back with CHO GUE-SUNG.

"Oh, he's such a handsome man. So polite too. I met him when I was teaching."

"When did he come to Melbourne?"

"He didn't. I was teaching in Seoul."

"Since when?"

"Last few months." Dia said, placing more side dishes on the table.

You opened your mouth but closed it. Your auntie lived a very unbelievable life at the best of times.

"He was nice. Nice face. Good hair. You should date him." Dia said as if she was commenting about the weather and you rolled your eyes, chewing through the food. She gave you a look. "Better a footballer than a driver."

You gave her a look. She never did like Daniel. Much less you two together.

"Speaking of footballers, your uncle called. Went on and on about how your talents are wasted with cars and you should come to a real sport."

You snorted hearing this. Your uncle's work in football (not soccer, football) and your line of expertise had some people baffled that you hadn't joined him. Only the select few understood just why that was.

Still, every month, your uncle would call you to sigh at the wasted talent! that you, a world class performance trainer! was stuck making coffee! for some fancy drivers!

Save that he would add in a few choice Italian expletives in the mix.

"So, the usual?" You concluded.

"The usual." Dia nodded. She came to sit down in front of you. Pulling out her phone, she began showing you pictures of her recent teaching stint in South Korea. Your aunt had apparently been there for the last six months, working at an international school. And befriending Korean football players.

“I thought you were teaching in Paris.” You said between mouthfuls of seasoned meat. 

“That was before.” Dia waved a dismissive hand. She dropped her phone and then stood up to pull out two wine glasses. Your aunt gave you a look and you shook your head. She put one back with a roll of her eye. “Wine is good for you.”

“I’m already taking resveratrol.” You said. “And I’m on a cut.”

“That’s why no bread.” Dialooked down at the plate full of untouched pita bread. She was well aware of your health habits. “Actually, I went to back home recently! Ah!” She went to the cupboard above the microwave and pulled out a shoebox full of small boxes. You knew immediately what it was. Bringing the shoebox to the table, Dia began pulling out various packets of medicines she had brought from Egypt. 

“You will need this for your travels.”

“I have all of this.”

“Do you have Antinal?”

“Yes.”

“Take some extra." Dia still pushed it to you. "Give it to Charles.”

“I don’t speak to Charles.” You said. Well, Charles doesn't speak to you.

Your aunt huffed and looked up at the ceiling, calling to God. “Ya rab. This fight with Charles needs to stop. Pascale and I are sick of it.” You didn’t comment any further on it. It was, admittedly, quite hard when there were so many other people involved.

Pascale and Dia were best friends. They had met some thirty years ago when Dia had been at the au pair stage of her life, living in Monaco and helping Pascale raise three rowdy boys. Pascale had been there the day when Dia opened the door to find a baby on the welcome mat.

Your mother had promptly left the hospital to leave you with Dia. There was no note, but a text. When Dia and Pascale tried calling the number, it was no longer in service.

Not that it mattered much to you. If anything, your mother's decision meant you got to grow up with more of a family than she could've ever provided.

However, it meant that things like this were difficult. Charles not speaking to you had more repercussions beyond you and him. And since it wasn't exactly like you had much of a clear answer why you were left stumbling.

“I will give them to Charles.” Dia spoke up, taking it from your hands.

“You do that.” You said as she still pushed another one boxes of the yellow medicine in front of you. “Dia, I already have this.”

“For Oscar. Yallah.”

“Anti-diarrhoea pills?"

"Oi, mate. You better be grateful. That shit's a miracle." You said, dropping the yellow box in Oscar's hands as you both walked down the Paddock. You had checked your phone this morning to the beautiful news that you would be working for McLaren today. You texted Oscar the news and the next day he had your coffee order ready in the cupholder of the car he picked up you up in. 

It didn't feel odd. It should've, but it didn't. Maybe it was because you and Oscar had already spent the most of the morning together. You had breakfast with his parents - his dad taking a moment to quietly pull you aside to say thank you for supporting Oscar - and then hit a gym sesh.

In fact, you almost forgot that you and Oscar was supposed to be working in different domains until you both had to get dressed and found him waiting for you outside the Paddock dressed in shorts, a McLaren t-shirt and accompanying brand cap.

It made you look down at your black Hospitality wear and wonder just how things would go if you were wearing the same clothes as him.

Well, for one thing, you would have to wear those ugly ass shoes. You looked down at your feet clad in some Nike Cortez and tried to take that as consolation. You weren't dressed in team uniform but at least that meant you had your shoes.

Still, the oddity of seeing a driver openly interact with the Hospitality staff turned some head as you walked down the Paddock together. You were half tempted to tell Oscar to go ahead but it didn't make sense. You were both going to the same place - the McLaren motorhome.

And besides, Oscar wouldn't do that.

Evident by how he was barely paying attention to any of this. No, Oscar's attention was still stuck on the medicine you had given him.

"Why do I need," He paused and flipped the box over to read the label that was in English, "Antinal?"

"Because you're travelling around the world more now that you're in F1 and have an additional ten or so race weekends added to your calendar." You explained as Oscar read what minimal English was on the medicine box "And so you're gonna be trying a lot more foreign food. Gotta be prepared, man." You patted him on the shoulders as a form of consolation. Oscar just laughed. 

"I must say, when you texted me that you had got me something, I didn't think it would be this."

"Technically my auntie did." You said before explaining how you would probably needed to purchase another 23kg suitcase from all the things your aunty was adamant you have with you for the rest of the season. Oscar was laughing at the five packets of sunflower seeds your aunt thought was an essential when you clocked it. 

Or, better yet, them. Charles and Carlos.

Both staring at you. And Oscar. 

You felt a jolt rush through you realised. Oscar's latest girlfriend update went to background noise as you took in the two Ferrari drivers stood there.

Carlos was appraising, his head slightly tilted as he clearly was observing the two of you. You could only imagine what he noted.

You. Oscar. Laughter. Gift exchanged. Mention of relatives and close family.

Still, the kind Spaniard's eyes were a lot easy to take in than Charles. 

Charles who was clearly fuming. 

Or, clearly to you. You knew his angry tells. Right fist clenches then unfurls. Left hand runs through hair. Lips are pursed. And then he storms off. 

You watched as Charles said something to Carlos and then turned around to stalk off. You watched his retreating form with forlorn eyes and before you caught Carlos looking at you. The furrow between your brows where you had probably stared longingly after the best friend who left you in the dust immediately fell when you looked at Carlos. 

That was the first time that Charles was actually acknowledging your existence in how long.

You drew your eyes back to Carlos who was still looking at you. You smiled you found yourself even lifting up a hand to wave. You saw his eyebrows raise slightly and his lips lift into a smile. He waved back. Then someone called his name and you saw his cousin and manager appear from the Ferrari motorhome. You turned back to look at Oscar who was still talking, unaware of anything that happened in the past minute.

"... anyway Lily wants to meet you and - "

"Have you copped any shit?" You interrupted Oscar and turned to him. You had both neared the McLaren Motorhome and knew this would be where you both parted ways. 

"Copped shit from who?"

"Other drivers." You specified.

"I mean I haven't really had a chance to speak with them." Oscar said, pursing his lips as if he thought about it. "The Williams guys are nice. Alex is funny."

"Alex is funny." You agreed. You did like Alex. He had a good heart. You would forever be salty at what Red Bull did to him. 

"Lewis said hello, which was nice. Fernando reminded me his career is older than me." You couldn't help but snort at that. Oh, Nando.

"And Lando is... well, Lando." You perfectly understood just what Oscar meant by that. His words, however, also confirmed what you had suspected. None of the 'core' drivers that surrounded Ferrari or Red Bull's circles had come near him. You knew that many of the guys had gone out a few times to celebrate the start of the season and the fact that Oscar had very clearly not been invited was, well, getting to you.

Especially since you were 99.9% sure you were the reason why. 

You stared at the young Australian boy in front of you and felt two things wash over you. 

The first was sadness.

A lame word but there was no other way to describe it. Infuriated, annoyed, hurt - sure. But you were also just sad. Sad that this was your life and that anyone close to you still managed to get tainted by the things you were forced to lug around yourself. 

The second was fondness.

The boy was young and innocent but carried himself with wisdom and dignity beyond his mere 20 years. And his dry ass sarcasm was a special type of humour you missed having around you. He was caring, loyal and an overall good sport. Having Oscar around made you realise how long it has been since you've laughed. He drove you the airport, bought you food and stayed up to watch old FRIENDS reruns after finding out Daniel Ricciardo had cornered you in the gym. 

"Your love language is quality time." Was his reasoning when he had arrived at your hotel room. And so he ordered some KFC and got comfortable in your hotel room to watch Chandler and Joey forget Ross' baby on a bus. You knew Oscar didn't like sit-coms - it was a recurring argument - but he watched five episodes that night after you had texted him feeling panicked and needing help when Daniel arrived drunk at the gym.

In short, in that moment, you were suddenly hyperaware of how much you really, really, really fucking loved Oscar Piastri. 

So maybe that's why you just came out with it. 

"Jos Verstappen has a restraining order against me." 

Oscar blinked. Once. Twice. Clearly he wasn't expecting you to say that. You weren't even expecting you to really say it. 

"Come again?"

"Well his wife does." You corrected. "Because the courts wouldn't accept a man of his size him to need protection from little old me." You rubbed your arm, feeling the full vulnerability of what you were doing. You thought of your next words carefully, making sure to not step over the NDA you had signed. "I used to train Max when he was at Torro Rosso and then at Red Bull. I always saw bruises on his arms. One day I..." you huffed, hating that you legally couldn't say what had actually happened. "Well, I ended up beating Jos Verstappen half to death."

Oscar was silent. His face was void of much reaction. He wasn't even looking you in the face but staring at the ground in his pensive state. You were aware that you both had stopped walking and were stood to the side. 

"Is that why you don't officially work as a trainer and had to be all pedantic with training me?" All you could do was nod to his question. Oscar shook his head. "I mean, I've heard the stories about Max and his dad but..." 

Now it was your turn to blink. Once. Twice. You frowned and Oscar finally met your eyes and you were stunned to see the easy going grin on his face once more. It hadn't disappeared.

He wasn't judging you. He was on your side.

"I can only guess you had to sign an NDA and this isn't the full story." Oscar continued. "And even if it is, well, it's enough to know you were protecting someone from a - well, an abuser." 

"I... Yeah. Thanks." You weren't sure what you were thanking him for. For believing you? For not treating you differently? For taking your side when everyone in Formula 1 had dropped you and treated you like a leper?

"Is that why you and Ricciardo fell through?" Oscar asked. It wasn't nosy. You had explained enough to him. And even if it was, it was exactly uncommon knowledge that you and Daniel had dated.

"No Danny, he, uh-." You hated how small your voice sounded. Or that you immediately fell back to his nickname. "He cheated."  

Oscar was silent, waiting for you to continue. And so you did so. You told him everything. From Daniel to Charles to the moment you punched Jos Verstappen in the face.

Carlos Sainz was ready to punch someone in the face.

He sat there at the table, fist curled tight as he tried to calm down from all that he was hearing. It seems like his name would only be an added tag to an otherwise Charles Leclerc fest of a season. Carlos knew, sure, that coming into a Ferrari where his teammate was known as Il Predestinato would mean that he needed to prove himself, put himself in the spotlight and make the Tifosi give him a name like that.

However, as the current race strategy meeting was showing, it seemed like no one in Ferrari was going to give Carlos the chance.

"Now, boys, I have something to discuss with you two." Fred said as people were starting to leave and the meeting seemingly coming to an end. Carlos wanted nothing more than to get up and storm off but he reigned it and listened to the change in Fred's tone.

"What's up?" Charles asked, sitting up.

"Quietly, there was a team principal meeting with Domenicali." Fred said, and this time Carlos sat up also. His anger was momentarily forgotten as his interest piqued. "It seems that McLaren have unofficially started working with a girl to train their rookie." Charles was playing with his APM Monaco bracelets, somewhat paying attention. Carlos watched him. There was one particular bracelet he always fiddled with, a small gold chain tucked amidst all the other extravagant pieces.

"She's a Hospitality worker."

Carlos saw how Charles froze. His teammate looked up. Carlos saw the horrified look on his face.

"Quoi?" The French slip was only further proof of something. Carlos's mind raced to make the connection.

The lighbulb went off just before Fred said it.

"She was your friend, non?" Fred said. "Worked with Max Verstappen in Torro Rosso." His eyes flickering over to Carlos. Him and Max had been teammates back then.

Charles's years and years of media training went out the window as he struggled to make sense of what he was hearing. Carlos, however, was suddenly thrown back a few years and thinking about just who had caused this whole shitstorm.

You.

Carlos said your name, feeling something swell up in him by saying your name in front of Charles who was your former best friend. Maybe it was ego from the recent meeting, but Carlo wanted to drive the knife in a little deeper.

"She's a very good trainer. I watched her sessions with Verstappen." And that wasn't on showing up Charles; it was the truth. Max's dominance needed to be at least somewhat accredited to you.

"Turns out she is not allowed to work for new teams." Fred spoke. "That means for McLaren to hire her goes against some contract Formula 1 put in place after an incident with Jos Verstappen."

There was a pause. Carlos waited for Charles to say something - to say it. He didn't. So Carlos did.

"She was defending Max." Carlos said, defending you when he thought the silent Monacoan beside him would've. Didn't you two grow up together?

The Verstappen Incident, Carlos was well aware of. However, whatever happened between you and Charles... well, Carlos was out of the loop.

"It doesn't matter." Fred waved. "I'm not here to speak of the drama. But I did have a look. Mattia never told me but she has ties with Ferrari from before - "

"To me." Charles corrected. "Not Ferrari."

"Pardon?" Fred asked, frowning.

"I was allowed to work with her on the grounds of... of it being family." Charles looked like it pained him to say the words."

"Family?" Fred repeated.

"It was the loophole Red Bull had to get out any criticism of conflict of interest when she was with Ricciardo." Charles explained. "She was Max's trainer but was... dating Ricciardo. Family, close, she could train him."

"But you two weren't dating." Carlo interjected. It was at this that Charles' eyes snapped back to him and the three men were reminded of the real feelings shared between the drivers.

"No. But she was my - she was my best friend. We grew up together. We are family."

"Are?" Carlos couldn't help the bemused and amused look on his face. "You don't speak to her. You didn't support her when Verstappen happened."

"Gentlemen!" Fred quickly jumped in before the tensions could get any higher. "I know Charles and her were very close. I saw her around Sauber and that makes sense." Fred appeased Charles' claim. "However, now, I think McLaren are trying to use this family loophole for her and the young rookie."

"How?" Carlos asked.

"Bah, I assume they would build a case of her being close to him."

"She wouldn't date for PR." Charles' voice was firm, his eyes distant. "That's not her."

Carlos chewed the side of his mouth. He very much wanted to say, yeah and how do you know her? The last time you spoke to her was in 2018!

It was then that the Head of PR walked in the meeting, a phone in each hand. "We assume they will try to build a case about him being close like you her." Fred said. Charles scoffed and curled a fist. "However, these are only assumptions now. But it has brought to our attention something key. Morena."

Carlos didn't really have much feeling towards Ferrari's PR lady. She was a bit older and sometimes missed the trends. However, he assumed that Ferrari's image being based on tradition and culture - as opposed to TikToks and memes - meant that they wouldn't hire a young person who knows the ins and outs of social media trends. Instead, they hired a PR director who was indirectly related to the mayor of Imola.

"We have been looking over some trends given the recent popularity craze from Drive to Survive and young girls fawning over our handsome drivers." Morea began. "And we have come to the conclusion that it might be best for you to consider going public with a romantic partner."

Carlos' stomach dropped. Him and Charles exchanged a look. They both understood.

"We have a drafted a timeline and have reached out to a few modelling agencies who have forwarded the portfolios of some selected candidates we think would support the Ferrari image."

A PR relationship. They were actually going to have to do a PR relationship.

"We think it might be best to start with one driver and then analyse the results to then consider pushing both of you." Morena said, tapping on her iPad. She then pushed it over to Charles.

Of course.

Carlos should've been grateful. He really, really should've thanked the heavens. The last thing he would've wanted right now is to be pushed into a PR relationship. However, it just brought back everything from earlier on.

"I will take that as my cue." Carlos said. Fred smiled and said thanks. Charles and Morena said nothing to him. And Carlos left the motorhome really, really wanting to punch something.

Walking a little ways down the Paddock, he took deep breaths and shot a flurry of texts to his dad. He needed his advice on what to do given the way the meeting had gone. It was then that a girl on rollerblades holding the Australian flag zoomed past him and Carlos looked up.

It was the jolt he needed. He pocketed his phone and lifted his head to take a deep breath.

The entertainment at Albert Park never missed. Carlos smiled slightly. Australia was a fun circuit. Not his favourite track by any means but the actual weekend itself had a lot going on that he enjoyed. It was lively, music always pumping and the weather was nice.

Still, the sounds of laughter and the faint dance music that echoed through the Paddock weren't enough to lift his spirits.

And then he saw you.

You were walking with Lando's new teammate, the infamous Oscar something. He hadn't paid much attention to the newbie, hearing something vaguely about Alpine drama from Lando. It all had gone in one ear and out the other.

Now, Carlos saw you walking with him and suddenly he wished he knew more about the kid. Why him? Why were you friends with him? Since when did you have friends? And why risk it all just to train him?

Carlos had always been perfectly polite, nice. Why didn't you laugh with him? Why didn't you reach into your bag to pull out a small box to hand to him as you explained to him whatever gift you had brought him? What made this Oscar kid so lucky?

Maybe it was just the Australians seeking out one another? Everyone on the Grid knew you had dated Ricciardo. That had been a painful experience.

It was one thing to have pined after you from across the garage at Toro Rosso when you had just been his teammate's trainer.

It was another to see you get swept off your feet by the senior Red Bull driver that everyone adored.

Carlos' days at Red Bull sucked since all he did was think about you - and you barely paid him any attention. Sure, he was now no longer Ricciardo's junior but it still got to him. Daniel Ricciardo had waltzed in and you had gone wide-eyed before Carlos could've even tried.

Because he would've. He really would've. Even before his dad told him who your uncle was. Even before he tried your cooking, your coffee. Even before he knew your name. A young Carlos Sainz had seen a pretty girl walking around in the same Real Madrid kit that he owned at home and immediately wanted to go up to her, to ask her name, to ask her out.

Carlos' phone beeped. His father.

Don't get mad. Just get even on the track.

Carlos pocketed his phone but felt something ignite inside him. He would do that. It wasn't Charles' fault for Ferrari's favouritism. Carlos had to admit the Monégasque was a genuinely nice guy.

The driver in question finally came out and saw him. He looked a lot more at ease but still had the signs of tension in his shoulder. Charles definitely was the most media trained driver on the grid. He nodded at Carlos.

"You alright, mate?" Charles asked.

"I'm alright. You?"

"Yeah. Excited for the race." Charles said, changing the subject and not mentioning anything at all. "Australia is always special." They both watched as someone on stilts in a kangaroo costume was making their way through the Paddock.

Despite what his father had said, anger came back within Carlos. It was the same anger he felt towards that Australian kid. And Daniel Ricciardo. And, to an extent, Max.

Carlos was jealous. Not for Charles' favouritism from Ferrari, but the favouritism from you. Charles had you and he'd thrown you out for whatever reason.

Carlos' eyes came back to you and suddenly he couldn't help himself. Sure, he could stay out of all the Ferrari drama but this was you. He couldn't stay out of it when you were right there, walking beside the new kid who didn't know that Charles had essentially banned every driver from interacting with you.

"Yeah?" Carlos spoke before he even realised. "What's so special about Australia?"

The answer was obvious: you.

You were what had been so special. Carlos' days at Torro Rosso meant that he knew about how you felt towards Albert Park, that it was almost like your home race.

For one, you didn't stay at the Crown Casino hotel like the rest of them. No, instead you stayed at your auntie's place by the beach. Carlos knew that from the time he had to drive a passed out Max Verstappen to said home back in 2017.

Charles' smile dropped slightly. Then he brought it back up. "Ah, you know. The sun, the people. There is a special energy here that - "

He stopped talking.

Carlos knew that his teammate had finally spotted you also. Turning his head to look over at Charles, Carlos took in the look of utter rage on his teammate's face.

And then, you looked up. You noticed him. Them. You met his eyes and then you looked at Charles. The McLaren driver was still talking beside you, oblivious to how you had clearly stopped listening to him. Charles took a deep breath.

He stormed off.

Carlos couldn't help but roll his eyes. He didn't know the truth, but Carlos had heard the many rumours as to why Charles had cut you off. He thought they were all rubbish.

Looking back at you, Carlos met your eyes once more and he thought about his options.

He knew that you were in part responsible for training one of the best drivers on the grid. He also knew that it would take a bit of a miracle to help him outperform Charles Leclerc and show Ferrari what was what.

It was then that his phone beeped again to present another notification from his father.

Find yourself your own girl. Someone who will actually support you.

Suddenly, Carlos felt much lighter. He laughed. Of course.

If this Oscar kid was going to go against the grid's treasured and unspoken rule, why couldn't he?

Family loophole and all.

< prev ch [5] | next ch [7] >

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[mellowturtleyouth]

I am Khaled from Al-Bureij camp in Gaza. My home was bombed, and our lives turned into a nightmare. Everything we knew vanished in a single moment, and now we live in fear and despair. We are facing the cold, harsh streets with no shelter, no safety, and no hope.

Every day feels like a battle for survival. We try to hold on despite the overwhelming pain surrounding us. I appeal to you from the depths of my heart — we need your support to stand again. Every donation, no matter how small, can make a huge difference in our shattered lives.

Help us find our way back to life through this suffering.

Donate now and be the hope we desperately need.

@90-ghost @rawliverandgoronspice @imjustheretotrytohelp @timogsilangan @el-shabazzgifted @buttercuparry @school-of-the-infected @atlas-of-galaxies @staff @soon-palestine @palestine-info-uncensored @sayruq @xinakwans @dlxxv-vetted-donations @komsomolk @remindertoclick @el-shabazzgifted @aterglittle @ghostofanonpast @gothhabiba @ashwantsafreepalestine @xclowniex @fairuzstuff

[wileys-russo]

can you write smt for kyra with that photo of her with flowers as inspo?

airport flowers II k.cooney-cross

the plan was simple.

you'd told your girlfriend there was a last minute work emergency and you'd need to fly out to melbourne for the few days she was back in australia for national duty in perth.

but really you'd be landing the same day as kyras first match back in australia and would be going from the airport right to the game to surprise her. then you'd also not yet told her with some other tillies help you'd be taking the same flight home back to england with her, when she thought you'd need to be based back in australia for another month.

you'd not seen her in person for almost five weeks now due to your job and with the footballer normally the one to create surprises for you and organise cute little gestures, you decided it was your turn.

to kyras credit when you told her initially you'd be unable to make it to her games or see her while she was here she put on a brave face and as per usual was as supportive as could be.

you worked as the sole social media and marketing manager for a clothing brand started and ran by one of your childhood best friends, having been there on board to watch and help the brand grow since it was just a seemingly silly little idea floated on a drunken night out when you were teenagers.

with kyra starting her pro career off in australia in the a-leagues the two of you had met during her time playing for victory. you'd reached out to her agency about a potential sponsorship deal with the brand and met up with kyra and her team a few days later.

the young midfielder was quite smitten with you and nothing but charming as she'd asked you out for a coffee with the request you show her where the best could be found.

a few coffees and kisses later and you were very happily coupled up, much to your best friends teasings that you were using his company as a means of picking up girls.

then fast forward a little with kyras move over to sweden you split your time between there and back home, able to do the majority of your obligations and meetings remotely not having a 'base' you needed to be stationed at.

now with her setting down roots in england you split your time between there and australia. you now had a small team underneath you and it meant it was rare you were really needed in australia all too often.

like you said the plan was simple, but it seemed the universe had other ideas.

it started when your flight was delayed three and a half hours, leaving you with a very narrow gap to get from the airport to the game before kick off, not for warm ups like you'd planned.

sending kyras sister a message informing her of the above she assured kyra was still in the dark about everything and seemingly in good spirits for the game.

the next hurdle came when your bag never appeared on the luggage carousel, and after following it up with management it became apparent it was left on the tarmac back in sydney where you'd flown in from.

doing your very best to keep a cool head you were informed it would be sent with the next available flight and asked to wait around for that to land...in another four and a half hours.

your patience wafer thin at that point you'd organised for the airport to hold it overnight and you'd come collect it tomorrow morning, a quick check of the time confirming you'd be lucky to make it by the second half.

the third barrier came in the realization that you'd been logged out of your uber account and unable to remember the password you were tearing your hair out as with one wrong attempt too many your account was locked.

so with time fading fast and your mental stability unraveling even faster you hurried to the nearest atm and grabbed out a wad of cash, darting into the small gift shop and grabbing the very last bunch of flowers they had.

these were of course all unopened bar two or three flowers and looked more like weeds, but in your case beggars couldn't be choosers and hailing down a taxi you could finally breath knowing you'd finally left the prison that the airport was beginning to feel like.

watching the game on your phone as the taxi sped toward the stadium, the price growing higher and higher with every minute, you couldn't help but allow your chest to swell with pride seeing just how good your girlfriend was playing.

you hadn't even realised you'd arrived until the driver cleared his throat and you glanced up, the second half having just kicked off you could hear the cheers of the crowd as you opened your door, dropping a wad of notes into the drivers hand and sprinting toward the entrance.

you breathed a sigh of relief seeing kyras mum waiting for you with one of the security guards clearly explaining the situation as the man nodded, scanning your ticket as you were given a lanyard and ushered inside.

there was a cheer from kyras friends and family all of whom you'd met before as you finally arrived, all of you in the matildas family section right above the subs bench.

you gave a wave to charli who stood on the sideline as her eyes widened and a grin grew on her face and she eagerly waved back before turning her focus to the game.

her number called she was subbed in for ellie who tapped her hand as charli raced onto the pitch to screams and cheers. settling back in your seat you fended off the teasing remarks made your way for your very poorly timed arrival and the measly bunch of flowers in hand.

you wiggled into your cooney-cross jersey you'd had in your carry on, finally breathing properly and allowing yourself to wind down and enjoy the game going on.

the matildas were up 2-0 and with sam scoring a screamer from well outside the box and steph delivering a beautiful corner right to alanas head it ended 4-0 to australia with a thunderous roar from the crowd.

you waited patiently as kyra did her lap of the pitch, shaking your head furiously at her teammates who made gestures clearly asking if you wanted them to grab her for you, not wanting to ruin the surprise that the universe had done everything to try and spoil for you.

finally she started to head back towards the family and friends section with charli and remy hanging off either of her sides you waited by the barrier with a smile, both blondes seeing you well before kyra did.

"hey space cadet, can i get your autograph?" you called out, her head whipping around and jaw almost hitting the floor as she tripped over her own feet in her haste to get to you, making the girls around her roar with laughter as her cheeks flushed pink.

"what the fuck! i thought you were in..." kyra shook her head in disbelief as she reached you, your hands moving to cup her face as you shook your head. "surprise?" you grinned, a beaming smile of her own curling onto her lips as she tugged you into a hug.

"i love you." you mumbled into her shoulder, rubbing her back, the midfielder pressing a kiss to your cheek as she pulled away. "you played alright i guess." you sighed sarcastically, grabbing the flowers from your feet and handing them to her.

"yeah thanks!" the girl shoved your head as a small blush coated her cheeks and she spun around to pose for charli with her flowers. "but i didn't see you at half time?" your girlfriend asked, free hand interlocking with yours as she sweetly kissed your knuckles now causing you to blush.

"its a very long story babe."

[ismailawad55]

The Story of Ismail: A Lens Burning in Gaza’s Inferno

I am Ismail , a photojournalist from Gaza. I dedicated my lens to capturing the truth, documenting tragedies, and bearing witness to the genocide my people are enduring. I ran through destruction, carrying my camera like a weapon, searching for truth among the ruins, trying to make the world hear Gaza’s voice. But in the end, I became a part of the tragedy I was documenting.

The Beginning: A Lens Facing War

When the war broke out, I found myself in the heart of the flames, capturing death, carrying the pain of my people in my photographs. I saw children crying without their mothers, mothers holding onto the shattered remains of their dreams amid the rubble. I kept taking pictures, trying to tell the truth, but the truth was too cruel to bear.

During one of my coverages, I was running towards the light of truth when a shell exploded near me. A sharp pain shot through my body, and I collapsed to the ground. I was injured, but I did not stop. The second time, the wound was deeper, but it was not as painful as seeing my mother break down in sorrow.

My Mother… A Heart Bleeding with Pain

Amid the roar of warplanes and the sounds of missiles, I would return home to find my mother crying silently. She wasn’t afraid for herself—she feared that this war would be the last time she would see me. The sorrow ate away at her heart until it became ill. She now needs medication, treatment, and even urgent surgery. But how can I afford her treatment when I no longer have even enough for a single meal?

From Documenting Tragedy… to Becoming Part of It

I wasn’t just a photographer; I tried to be a source of support for others. At the start of the war, I used my own money to buy and distribute water to displaced families in camps. Water wasn’t just a necessity—it was life itself. I saw thirst in the eyes of children and tried to do something, anything, to ease their suffering, even for a moment.

But war is never fair. Just as it burned down homes, it burned down my life as well. The equipment I used to reveal the truth was destroyed, and with it, my dreams. I have no place to go, no source of income, and no way to help my sick mother.

Today, I stand among the ruins of my own life. I once believed that a camera could change the world, but it could not protect me. It could not stop destruction from reaching me.

I am Ismail Awad. I was a photojournalist in Gaza, and today, I have become just another image of the suffering I used to document.

@batmananimated @jonahmagnus @pit @cometcrystal @haootia @skinworthy @determinate-negation @talasem @girlcrazyandalone @jame7t @treesbian @pollocksville @rocksnstars @mayonaisalspray @toiletpotato @pisshandkerchief @longseasons @wis-art @beserkerjewel @wolf-tail @strangeauthor @wolfertinger666 @a-shade-of-blue @yekkks @postanagramgenerator @feluka @punkeropercyjackson @strange-aelurus @nabulsi @ringosnoop @sporesgalaxy @palhelp @turtletoria @valtsv @annabelle--cane @anneemay-blog @tamamita @taffybuns @prinnay @prisonhannibal @pckseicns @komsomolka @neechees @victoriawhitford @punkitt-is-here @vampiricvenus @angelsaxis @autisticmudkip @catnapdreams @mushroomjar

[landoom]

organised by @33max and @leatherandcherryblossoms - header from them

List of prompts

Day 10: 🧣 Holiday Travel (I won't be able to finish every prompt today but I'll keep going in January)

22/12 - 9 AM

For all the times he had to take a plane this year, Oscar only had a small delay when leaving for Italy and the 3h-long one in Hungary. He counted himself lucky for that but he had apparently run out of luck. 

Now that he’s waiting to fly back home for Christmas, he finds himself looking at the departure boards and at all the little red “cancelled” appearing on them. A snowstorm of hell is paralysing nearly all of Europe. 

And to make it worse, he’s not even in Monaco, where he could at least get back to his apartment. No. He’s in fucking Madrid because, once again, he was too kind and accepted to do a last sponsor event before going back to Australia for the break…

Oscar looks around at all the people around him, leaving the boarding gate to go ask for info at the desks probably. He could follow them and queue and wait but he really doesn’t feel like it so he just stands, grabs his backpack and walks to the nearest Starbucks where he proceeds to order the most decadent hot chocolate possible.

***

23/12 - 9AM

For all the places Oscar could have been on Christmas Eve’s Eve, Carlos’ apartment wasn’t on the list.

But still, here he is. Alone. He’s not sure if it makes the whole experience better or worse.

He still can’t believe he’s here when he was supposed to be in his Mum’s house in Melbourne… But the snow still falls all over Europe, preventing most planes from taking off. As he paces around the perfectly decorated living room, he checks the weather app again but the little snowflakes are still there… For the whole day… And the next… And the one after.

Slowly, he accepts he’s stuck there. In that town he doesn’t really know, in that flat that is not his. He supposes it could have been worse. He could have found himself in one of the rare hotels that still had free rooms just before Christmas.

At least, after calling Lando to tell him about his predicament and having his teammate answer with an “I know who can help you”, he ended up here. And if he still feels a bit wary of just touching things, the place is quite nicer than a dodgy hotel room.

He reckons he can order some take-out and video call his family at least…That’s not the Christmas he was hoping for but he can’t change the weather, can he?

***

24/12 - 9 PM

For all the people Oscar was expecting to spend Christmas Eve with, the Sainz family was nowhere on the list.

But here he is, in the middle of a huge table with too many people speaking too loud and too fast… Not that he can understand Spanish anyway.

On his right, there is Carlos. Carlos who came to the apartment in the morning and nearly kidnapped him because, apparently, he doesn’t hate Oscar enough to leave him to spend Christmas alone in an empty place.

And Oscar has to admit that, even if he still feels a bit awkward around Carlos’s family, the food is good, the house is homey, the dogs are cute and… Carlos is unexpectedly fun.

And taking a selfie with Carlos Sainz Sr is a good Christmas gift.

***

31/12 11 PM

Things were finally happening like they were supposed to. Oscar was spending New Year in Monaco, in a club Max had privatised for his friends including a few drivers.

There was still a tiny unexpected detail, though…

The man currently sitting next to him in the booth. The man whose arm was around his shoulder. The man he was going to kiss at midnight.

“Carlos?”

“Yes, carino.”

Oscar didn’t answer but decided he could kiss his boyfriend a few more times before 2025.

[axvoter]

Welcome to the Blatantly Partisan Party Reviews: 2025 Australian federal election edition

I’ve already published one edition of the Blatantly Partisan Party Reviews for 2025, the WA state election; now, we turn to an even bigger electoral event, the Australian federal poll. A decade ago, with lax registration laws and the possibility of scoring a Senator off a minuscule vote thanks to the undemocratic distortions of Group Ticket Voting, a dizzying number of parties cluttered the ballot nationwide with misleading names and fringe platforms. Senate voting has now been reformed so that preferences only go where voters themselves direct them, and tighter enrolment laws have removed many chancers from the party register of the Australian Electoral Commission.

This year, I will be reviewing almost all parties contesting the election nationwide. I do not review Labor, the Liberal/National Coalition parties, or the Greens, because if you’re reading this blog you almost certainly know what you think about those parties. I have not yet decided if I will include One Nation in this edition. Otherwise, I am seeking to cover all registered parties who are fielding candidates, whether nationally or in just one state, and I will do my best to identify individuals standing nominally as independents but who represent an unregistered party. I will also cover independents contesting the Senate in Western Australia, where I live and vote; if I have time, I will cover any that catch my eye elsewhere (particularly Victoria, as I still think of Melbourne as “home”).

Time for my usual disclaimers: I am not, nor have I ever been, a member of a political party. I review from the perspective of a small-g green democratic socialist. I am trained and work as a political historian of Australia and New Zealand. This background guides my reviews, which originated as—and remain—notes to inform my own vote. I do not aim for any false neutrality or objectivity, and I share these remarks in the hope they are useful to others trying to navigate Australia’s plethora of micro-parties. It should be obvious but these are my personal opinions, which should not be construed as representing the views of my employer nor of any other organisation with which I am affiliated.

I am, of course, not alone in reviewing parties. Leading psephologist Kevin Bonham has already released his rundown of Tasmanian Senate candidates. The b_auspol blog will review the parties and independents that are contesting the Senate in NSW and, if the past is any guide, those reviews are certain to be smarter and more clear-eyed than mine. And Something for Cate is a blog continuing the thoughtful election-reviewing traditions of deeply-missed Catherine of Cate Speaks; it has been three years since we lost Cate and election season still feels empty without her, but I am so glad her legacy endures.

If you are unsure how to cast a ballot, Patrick Alexander has two handy explainers: you can’t waste your vote for the House of Representatives and what’s the go with voting for the Senate?

I will start posting reviews tomorrow. Early voting begins on Tuesday 22 April and I want to post as many reviews as possible by then. Each review concludes with a recommendation. Before I explain this, I should clarify that in the House of Representatives (small green ballot), you must number every square; in the Senate (large white ballot), you must number 1–6 above the line or 1–12 below the line, and then distribute further preferences if you want. I recommend giving full preferences in the Senate because failing to number all boxes weakens the power of your vote. The more preferences you give, the more powerful your vote is; it will stay in the count longer.

Here is my recommendation system for this year:

Good preference: a party with a positive overall platform that has few or no significant flaws for the left-wing voter.

Decent preference: a party with a generally positive overall platform but I have some reservations; or, a single-issue party with a good objective but by definition too limited in their scope to encompass the fullness of parliamentary business.

Middling preference: a party with a balance of positive and negative qualities, or a party with a decent platform undermined by a notably terrible policy or characteristic.

Weak or no preference: a party with more negatives than positives. In the House of Representatives, put these parties as low as possible. In the Senate, I recommend you do likewise to maximise the potential power of your vote; but I recognise that some of you prefer not to express preferences between varying gradations of undesirability or prefer not to rank the most odious parties.

This schema is flexible; I may, for instance, suggest a “middling to decent preference”.

Stay tuned for those very partisan reviews!

[a-shade-of-blue]

Hi everyone! I've been asked by Ismail (@ismailgazas-blog) to share his story with you.

Ismail is a photojournalist from Gaza whose life has been turned upside down by this genocide. He and his family's home have been destroyed and they are now displaced. He has lost a lot of friends and has even had to gather the shattered remains of his loved ones after a bombing!

He fears for his life and his family's lives. In addition to having to survive the frequent attacks, they struggle to buy basic necessities like food, water and shelter. With winter fast approaching, he wishes to secure a safe shelter for his family to shield them from the cold and the rain. But he cannot do this without your help! With the harsh circumstances, Ismail sometimes feels as if he has been forgotten by the world, as if his existence no longer matters. Please support his campaign to help him survive, and to show him that we care if he is alive, we care about his existence!

This campaign is #7 on this @/gaza-evacuation-funds list!!

Only $748 USD raised of $12,000 target on gofundme! Only 3 donations in more than 5 days!

Only $149 Raised of $18,000 on Chuffed!

Tagging for reach, please message me if you want off the mailing list! We thank you in advance.

@sandeewithtwoe @stuhde @spamtime @void-flesh @dykelicious @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @fagflint @lesbiandardevil @neechees @khargooshe @fangymutt @hobbithun @shamemp3 @marxism-transgenderism @jewishdainix @spreadsheetdyke @komsomolka @feluka @transmutationisms @negreaux @thatdiabolicalfeminist @doctor-a-snakeman @craftykittyscientist @catgirlcadaver @flor4zul @majortomwaits @strangeauthor @duncebento @000marie198 @beetlebongos @mevil @pomodoko @sphinxgirlbaeddel @lafemmemacabre @pollackpatrol @lesbianboyfriend @leolaroot @clementine-kesh @nogender-onlystars @tododeku-or-bust  @strangegutz @shadow-banned-the-hedgehog

[mahmoud-gaza]

The war

made me old, it destroyed my dreams and ambitions, it took my life away from me, it took away my school and my sports club, it made me lost. destroyed my life and my house.💔

I hope you will help me save my future and travel abroad so that I can complete my education and rebuild my home 🙏🏼🍉

Vetted by @gazavetters , my number verified on the list is ( #141 )

[mohammednafez]

Urgent help for my family 🙏 📣

🙏 Help my family 🙏

I stand on the rubble of our home, but my heart is filled with hope. I need your help to leave Gaza and complete my education to build my future. Every donation, no matter how small, will help me achieve my dream. Join us on a journey of rebuilding

Thank you to every person who stands with me in my campaign, donates and spreads the word. Every bit of your kindness means a lot to me 💔

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters , my number verified on the list is ( #201 )✅️

Donate a little to make my family happy 🙏😭🙏🍉

@gazavetters @khanger @nabulsi27 @antikristvs @appsa @shesnake @brutalgeneration @akajustmerry @akajustmerry @7bittersweet @schoolhater @brownpaperhag @meaganandersoncolor @briarhips @sawasawako-archived @1995lahaine @watermotif @stuckinapril @dontgoandleaveme @poetrylesbian @furiousfinnstan @unicef @foreigners-in-seoul-moved-blog @humanvoicebox @fcbalding @girlinafairytale @loonarmuunar @kittykatninja321 @decolonize-eyez @sealbf @moveslikekeithrichards @andvaswc @sealbf @andvaswc @sayruq @90-ghost @soon-palestine @appsa @27-moonlightbabe-blog

@wellwaterhysteria @styleatacertainage @sealsdaily

[mohammednafeez]

🆘🆘STOP, YOU Will FIX It❤️

Watch my story then go 🙏

I am Mohammed and my family of children from Gaza. We lost my livelihood, my home and everything I own in the war. I am writing to you with all the pain inside me and I hope you will respond to my call and save my family.😭💔💔

This is my family of 7, my sister is married and has 4 children, and we are now living in a tent 💔💔😭📍

Help me please🍉😭😭🙏

$1 makes the difference in saving the lives of me and my family from this war 🍉⏳

@treeen @sealsdaily @wellwaterhysteria

@timetravellingkitty @deathlonging @briarhips @mazzikaty @mahoushojo @sar-soor @rhubarbspring @pcktknife @transmut @sawasawako-archived @appsa @anneemay-blog @commissions4aid-international @wellwaterhysteria @mangocheesecakes @kyra45-helping-others @turtletoria @tortiefrancis @otteritos @amygdalae @ankle-beez @communistchameleon @dykesbat @komsomolka @notallfay @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @heritageposts @stuckinapril @lacecap @determinate-negation @deepspaceboytoy @paper-mario-wiki @kibumkim @neechees @chilewithcarnage @ghelgheli @sayruq @rooh-afza @shesnake @emil @stuckinapril @sidewaysjdm @brokenbackmountain @paper-mario-wiki @turian @buttercuparry @littlegermanboy @imjustheretotrytohelp

[gryficowa]

Boycott!

Now that I have your attention: