#it fucking SUCKS to read on

[grassbreads]

Oh god, seven seas redid their website, (or at least the pages for their danmei imprint) and it's SO much more annoying to browse now

There's no images on the main list of series? You can no longer see the cover and release date for each volume from the home page for a novel?? And they have a new fancy patterned background that, though very pretty, makes their small white font super unpleasant to read.

Why.

[monkesupreme]

Maybe i SHOULD draft out my ‘Clark is a SuperPlant’ propaganda post

[hercarisntyours]

pain

[drac0line1nn1t]

Ayup Tumblr,

I have escaped from the middle of fuck ass nowhere, has anyone done this one yet?

[arotechno]

these tags have been bothering me for a few days now. i understand wanting some private time at home with your partner, but can you not see that this is EXACTLY the attitude i'm talking about?

does your third housemate ALSO get an allotted time where you and your partner have to leave, or is it only for you? is this something you coordinate on days when your housemate is already independently making other plans, or are you just expecting to be able to kick them out of the house at will like this is a college dorm room?

this isn't a situation where you are three equal parties building a life, this is you and your partner treating someone else like a third wheel you wish would go away and a money bank to help you pay your bills. if that works for all parties involved then it's no skin off my nose, but can't you see that this is literally not at all the situation that i was describing? i'll make a very personal post about how it hurts when people act like my housemates would be justified in trying to get rid of me and alloromantic people will literally be like "this sounds great—as long as i can get rid of you!" like do y'all hear yourselves. do you actually see the words when aros post or is it just static for you.

this is the way people talk about their children, how they want their children out of the house so they can have some alone time. not the way you should be talking about a fellow adult who literally pays for and whose name is on the deed of the house you all live in. aro people aren't housepets.

[laufire]

jason's lazarus pit was golden jason's lazarus pit was golden jasonslazaruspitwasgolden jason's lazarus pit was golden JASON'S LAZARUS PIT WAS GOLDEN

AND PIT MADNESS IS *NOTHING*

[beastbeneathemoonlight]

Man I just gotta say big shoutout to fanfic writers literally the goddamn backbone of fandoms, this is your friendly reminder to give fanfic's on ao3 kudoses and comments, like if you rereading something TELL THE AUTHOR THAT HOWL INTO THE COMMENTS FOR ALL I CARE

[echoland]

By Sophie Lewis, the author of Abolish the Family

[skippingthroughfields]

one thing that's missing from these convos about amc not submitting assad zaman for a golden globes nom that makes it 10x more malicious on amc's part is that a nomination isn't just like oh... ~simple appreciation for an actor's performance. even if there's no win, it results in a profile boost for these actors & them being able to command a higher salary when it comes to future projects. it's something that gets notice on their CV. these studios and networks love being able to market their shit with things like "starring golden globe nominee john doe" or "emmy winner jane doe." the emmys are more prestigious than the golden globes which are more prestigious than the critics choice awards (the one they submitted him for with two other actors lol). actors get nominated and have the opportunity to get attention from social media posts, article mentions, attending the red carpet, having their name announced and a little clip of their acting shown. that's not nothing! attention from possible new fans, publications, execs, peers, producers, directors, fashion houses & other industries which could lead to $$$ and sponsorships. I won't make any presumptions about the cast's finances but I do know amc is probably not paying them their worth, least of all the bangladeshi muslim who barely had any major roles in tv/film prior to the show.

there are fees and costs associated with submitting for awards consideration and FYC ads. the network basically took a look at assad's brown skin and name and said they don't think he's worth the money over the white actor who had less screentime and narrative importance (to the season ig) which is absolutely crazy lmao. it shouldn't be controversial to say that and you can't not discuss this without bringing up sam's name. this has nothing to do with whether he "deserved" to be submitted (and even if I said he doesn't deserve it over assad who's gonna beat my ass?). this white man isn't being persecuted by conversations about blatant racism. but I'd expect nothing less from this fanbase x.

[lost-in-fandoms]

This is me, trying to preemptively soothe myself for whatever will be said about Daniel in this incoming race week. This got longer than I was expecting, it's about 3.5k, so it's on ao3 too if you prefer to read it there.

Daniel wakes up to the feeling of Max sliding in bed behind him. He smells like Daniel's body wash and his skin is still warm and damp when he tucks himself close against Daniel's back, knees slotting in behind his.

Still too asleep to find a way to work his voice for a proper hello, all Daniel manages is a sleepy sigh, but Max doesn't seem to want to break the silence either, squeezing the arm he sneaked around Daniel's waist in his own quiet greeting, smushing his face against the sweaty back of Daniel's neck.

The room is still fully dark, a combination of the blackout curtains and the fact that it's still not even dawn, so Daniel is happy to let the sound of Max's breathing pull him back under, until he realises two things.

First, Max is still curled up close behind him, sweat already condensing between them, not rolling away like he usually does, complaining about Daniel's mound of blankets, which piles up especially high when Max isn't there.

And second, Max is supposed to be in England.

Suddenly much more awake, he opens his eyes again, trying to make his sluggish limbs coordinate to allow him to turn around, but Max squeezes him harder, keeping him in place, shaking his head slightly, nose dragging against Daniel's skin.

"Hey," Daniel mumbles, raspy and heavy with sleepy. Max doesn't answer.

"Max," he tries again, feeling more and more awake, as confusion and worry start to mix in his stomach.

Max, stubborn in this like in everything else, doesn't budge. His steady breath is damp on Daniel's nape.

For a moment, Daniel considers the pros and cons of trying to have this conversation now, trying to turn around and make Max answer his questions, but finally he decides this can probably wait for the morning. If this isn't a dream, Max will probably still be there, and it will be easier to figure out what happened between this morning, when Max had facetimed him on his way to the factory, and now, Max tense and too warm in his bed.

So he lets it go, intertwining his fingers with Max's and sighing again, feeling Max's acknowledgment of his momentary retreat in the way his muscles finally uncoil, relaxing against him.

Silence falls again in the room, only broken up by the whirring of Daniel's white noise machine and the buzzing of far away traffic, LA's neverending lullaby, but neither of them falls asleep for a long time.

The next time Daniel wakes up the room is still dark, in that unique way it gets when it's light outside and his blackout curtains are doing their job, and his bed is empty. For a second he wonders if it had just been a dream, a weirdly realistic fantasy conjured from the aching spot in his heart that is missing Max all the time. But he can smell Max's scent on his skin, even hidden underneath his own body wash, and the sheets beside him are still just barely warm.

And when he reaches the kitchen, still rubbing sleep from his eyes and tugging on a hoodie he had picked up from the floor, Max is sitting on a stool, very much not a dream.

"Morning," Daniel greets him, trying to figure out if asking what are you doing here right away is going to get him an answer or an annoyed Max.

He doesn't get the chance to try though, because Max only smiles at him, bright even if pinched at the corners, before pointing at his phone and at the earbuds in his ears.

Almost done he mouths. He pulls a face, exaggerated and ridiculous, but so paper thin Daniel can still perfectly see the annoyance behind it.

Daniel nods, joining him at the counter, sitting on the stool next to him and smiling as Max scoots closer, intertwining their ankles.

He wishes he had grabbed his own phone from the nightstand to keep himself busy, or maybe to order food, since he's not sure on what's in the fridge, but he's feeling too lazy to get back up, so he resorts to laying his head down on the countertop and look up at Max's face.

His mouth is in a hard line as he nods along to whatever they're telling him, distractedly running a hand along his unshaven jaw. He looks tired, and annoyed, and beautiful, and Daniel missed him so much it feels like even sitting like this, close and touching, is not enough to soothe the gnawing pit in his chest.

Max rolls his eyes, then looks down at Daniel and smiles again, reaching over to brush a hand through his hair, the motion smooth and practiced, the same he uses when petting his cats. Daniel fights hard to not close his eyes.

"Yes, change my schedule, email it to me, whatever. I have to go."

Daniel frowns at the snappiness of Max's tone, watches as his expression grows even stormier at whatever he's been told. Something tells him Max was not exactly free to come here.

"Yes, fine. Bye."

If Max had a flip phone, Daniel is pretty sure he would have just snapped it closed. As it is though, he just swipes his finger on the screen and drops his earbuds on the counter, pressing his hands against his eyes with a sigh.

"I'm going to throw out a wild guess, and say you're not a happy bunny this morning," Daniel says, hoping to ease some of the tension from Max's shoulders.

He partially succeeds, as Max does drop his hands, rolling his eyes at him, before laying his head down on the counter too, so that they're staring at each other from the same point of view.

"I am happy to be here," Max says, slow and precise, the way he gets when he's trying to correctly convey his feelings, "but the team is not."

Daniel hums, bumping their knees together. He doesn't really care if the team is happy or not, but he knows being at the receiving end of a scolding like the one Max must have just gotten is not fun.

"They're not very happy with me lately," Max adds a bit ruefully, closing his eyes. His cheek is smushed against the marble, making the bags under his eye disappear a little, the other one much darker in comparison.

"Flew away from many sponsor events then?" Daniel asks, again trying make Max smile. This time it works only halfway, a corner of Max's mouth ticking up, the other kept in place by his cheek and the counter.

"Just a couple. They..." Max stops, a hand coming up to tug at his ear, fiddle with his hair. Daniel wants to grab his fingers, press his mouth against Max's forehead and learn each one of his thoughts like that.

Instead, he has to speak. Boring.

"Why are you here, Maxy?" he asks, because he can't not. He wonders if he should add that he is happy that Max is there, hopes that he doesn't have to, that Max would know anyway.

"I missed you."

Simple, easy, deadly.

Daniel feels his heart do a weird stuttering skip, lungs squeezing, trying to accommodate the surge of love suddenly flooding his chest.

"I missed you too," he chokes out, giving up on resisting the urge and leaning forward, bumping his nose against Max's, their knees knocking together, looking for a kiss.

Max tastes like orange juice, Daniel probably tastes like sleep, and it's awkward because of the uncomfortable position. It's the best thing Daniel has done this whole week.

"They briefed me," Max murmurs, lips still brushing together, sounding like it pains him to speak. A part of Daniel wants to go back to kissing, but he can feel they are now getting to the real reason why Max is there, and doesn't want to stop it.

Not that he doesn't believe Max missed him, Max never lies, never says something sweet if he doesn't mean it, but he knows there must be another reason why he looks like this, instead of just happy to be with Daniel. And even if some part of him knows this will probably not be an easy conversation, he also suspects it's one they need to have.

"On what to say about you."

Daniel jerks back a little before he can really think about it, the words stinging sharply.

He knows it makes sense. He knows he now basically is an ongoing PR disaster for the team, and a part of him enjoys it, but the reminder of it still hurts. And it hurts to think about Max, sitting somewhere across the world, getting told what to say when asked about him.

Max's eyes are open again now, but his expression is carefully blank, just studying whatever Daniel's face is doing, and Daniel suddenly hates it all, pain and rage swelling once again inside him.

He's been doing well, trying his best not to think about it. He's been keeping himself busy, keeping himself with people, refusing to let the feelings dwell and drag him under, but it's unavoidable with Max right there, talking about it.

And something must show on his face, because he sees something flicker under Max's blank expression, and then he's moving back too, out of the space where they were still sharing air, taking his head off the counter with a wince.

For a second, Daniel thinks about staying where he is, neck starting to twinge painfully, and letting Max say whatever he's going to say, probably some kind of apology, then an excuse, and then letting him leave. He thinks about letting Max think that for Daniel it is worse to have him here, painful reminder of everything he's not going to get anymore, than have him gone, aching pit of absence in his stomach. Thinks about where all of that would lead.

He straightens too.

His wince is probably identical to Max's, his neck aching and sore from the awkward position, and he knows that normally it would make Max smile, it would make them both crack a joke about it. But now Max is too busy trying to hide what he's feeling, wanting to calibrate it on whatever Daniel is feeling, to joke about old age or something, and Daniel hates it.

He grabs Max's arm, pretending he doesn't see Max's barely there flinch, pretending it doesn't send a new wave of hurt through him, and leads him out of the kitchen, to the couch. Max follows him quietly, trustingly, not even asking where they're going, what is happening. Daniel hates it.

He lays down on the couch, tugging Max on top of him. A part of him wishes they had done this last night, when they were close and aided by the dark, but he knows that, as much as he doesn't like it, this is probably better. He doesn't want to have this conversation more than once if possible, so it's better this way, something they'll both remember clearly.

Max is still tense on top of him, careful, but he relaxes a little as Daniel winds his arms around his waist, tugging him closer, the familiar weight of him on top of him comforting.

It's only when they're properly settled that he lets out a breath, and he forces himself to face this head on.

"What did they tell you to say?"

He's proud of how steady and neutral his voice sounds, the swirling mess of emotions inside him nowhere to be found.

For a long moment, Max doesn't answer. His hair is barely brushing against Daniel's chin, and he can feel where Max's chest is expanding as he breathes, pressing against him.

"I am not going to do it," Max finally says, voice quiet but sure. "I told them, I am not."

Daniel hums, not even tempted to doubt him.

"What did they say?" he asks again, wanting to know, wanting Max to tell him.

"That you knew." Ouch. "That you were not performing." Ouch. "That this was the best choice for the team, and I am excited to see what Liam can do." Ouch.

He's not surprised Max wouldn't say any of this, he's more surprised the PR team would even try to make him say this, but it still hurts to know that this is how they are going to spin the story.

"Excited, uh?" is all he manages to say, slightly choked.

Max pushes himself up on one elbow, struggling against Daniel's hold on his waist, to glare up at him, eyes steely and fierce and red rimmed.

"I am not going to do it," he repeats, forceful and sincere. "They are wrong and they are stupid, and I am not going to sit and lie and..."

He breaks off, pursing his lips and pressing them firmly together, eyes shiny. Daniel loves him so much it hurts.

"I know I can't tell the truth," Max says slowly with a grimace, voice breaking under all the feelings he's trying to keep at bay, "but I am not going to lie."

Daniel wants to kiss him again. He wants to tug him close and kiss him and get lost in each other and in love until everything outside the door doesn't matter anymore. He wants to push all this away until it isn't hurting either of them.

Instead, he gently pushes Max down on his chest again, one hand on his neck and one on the small of his back, and breathes.

"You told them that?" he asks.

Max's nod drags the fabric of his hoodie against his skin, bunching it up.

"I said, I will be polite and I will say nice things about Liam, and about Yuki and Checo, but I will not say that shit about you. I am not fixing this for them."

Daniel wonders what the Daniel of 10 years ago would have said, if he got told that in 10 years time Max would still be by his side, fiercely on his side.

"Thank you, Maxy," is all he can say, his feelings to messy and big to try and put them into words without spilling them all over the room, making clean up a bitch he doesn't want to deal with today.

Max nods again once, rough and too quick, dislodging the hand Daniel still has on his neck.

"They were not happy," he says, squirming a little until Daniel puts his hand back. "They told me there will be consequences," he snaps, slightly derisive, "so I told them I can do consequences too, and left."

Well, that explains the scolding.

"You left?" Daniel asks, not disbelieving, but still incredulous somehow.

"I didn't want to be there anymore," Max says, as if that explains it all. It probably does, for him.

For Daniel, it's yet another confirmation of which side Max is on. Not that he needed one more, but it's still nice to have. Nice to know that even in something like this, something this big and catastrophic, Max will choose him, over and over. The flood of love is back, and this time Daniel has to tip his head back and breathe, trying not to let it out through his eyes.

"How angry are they?" he asks, when he feels like his voice isn't tangled up in a knot in his throat anymore.

Max shrugs awkwardly, trapped between Daniel's body and Daniel's hands.

"Angry."

It makes Daniel snort despite himself, the sound slightly wet.

"Can't have everything their way, I guess."

He can imagine it, Max storming out of a meeting room, leaving behind a mix of perplexed and angry people, knowing they can't really punish him in any meaningful way that isn't making him do more sponsor events. It's a very satisfying thought.

And then Max takes a breath, pushes himself up on an elbow again, and decides to shift Daniel's world once again.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asks. Then, probably because he sees Daniel starting to frown, he adds "not here. The team."

It knocks the breath straight out of Daniel's lungs.

He blinks, unable to process what Max has just said.

"You...what?" he stutters, shifting back a little, trying to look at Max's face better without straining his neck.

He's almost expecting Max to laugh, to take it back, to crack a joke. But Max is deadly serious, the same unshakeable firmness Daniel knows from years of debriefs and arguments on his face.

"I want to win," Max says, not taking his eyes away from Daniel's. "I want to race, and I want to win, for a little while longer. But I don't like what they have been doing, what they did to you. I don't like what the team has become. I don't like what the sport is becoming. So if you want me to leave, if it would help that I leave too, I will leave at the end of the year."

Daniel can't breathe. There's loyalty, and there's Max being loyal, and then there's this. He doesn't know what to do with any of this.

"You can't...I can't ask you to leave." His voice sounds distant to his own ears, so overwhelmed it doesn't even feel his.

"If you want me to, if it would make you hurt knowing I am still racing with them, if it would make you angry, or hate me..."

"I am not going to hate you," Daniel interrupts. He doesn't know many things right know, but he knows that. He's suddenly torn between wanting to tug Max close again and wanting to keep looking at him while they talk about this, and settles on bringing his hand up to Max's cheek, relishing in the way he immediately leans into it.

"I don't want you to stop racing because of me," he says, another thing he's sure of.

"I would, if you asked," Max tells him, easy and steady, as if it's not monumental. Max Verstappen, willing to stop racing, for him.

"I won't."

Max nods, then breaks eye contact, suddenly looking shakier, unsure.

"You can't..." he takes a breath, bottom lip jutting out. Daniel's heart is beating too fast in his chest. "You can't hate me for it. I asked, and you said no, you can't hate me for it, now."

Daniel gives in, pressing Max to his chest again, bending his head to press his lips against his hair.

"I won't," he promises, voice swollen and heavy. "I won't hate you, Max. I won't even be angry at you, not for this. It was never on you."

Something that Daniel hadn't even noticed seems to uncoil between Max's shoulders and he slumps against Daniel's chest with a shuddering sigh, arms coming around Daniel's waist to hold him tighter.

Daniel wonders for how long Max had been carrying the weight of this misplaced guilt, of this fear. Wonders how he hadn't seen it before.

"If you want to leave for you," he carefully says, giving himself time to properly word what he wants to say, thinking about retirement jokes, and about much more serious retirement conversations, "you are free to leave. I will not be angry about that either."

Max shivers as he nods.

"I don't know if I want to," he mumbles, half lost in Daniel's hoodie. His hair is soft against Daniel's lips.

"You don't have to decide right now," Daniel tells him, suddenly and strongly grateful they're having this conversation like this, and not through a phone. Or worse, not having it at all. "I am not going to be your WAG, but I am not going to be angry either."

There's many things Daniel has to work through, to figure out. The past few weeks have been hard, some days spent in bed, too sad and angry and betrayed to feel like getting up, others spent doing things, feeling like all of this is just the start o something better. He is still confused, and a bit lost, but this he knows. Max he knows.

"I love you," he says, because it's the easiest way he has to promise forever without saying it, the word too big for a moment like this.

"I love you too," Max says, easy and unwavering, as if he wasn't shaking in Daniel's arms a few moments ago, as if the words are a steady enough pillar to sustain the weight of the crumbling word around them.

And maybe they are. Maybe they are.

The conversation isn't over, he knows it. What Max has said is too big to just let it go like this, especially if he really is considering retirement. And he wants to know when Max has to go back, what the team has told him, what his punishment for leaving like this will be. But for now, Daniel presses his lips again Max's hair again and breathes out, feeling like they have pushed past something, undone a particularly nasty knot.

And for everything else they have time.

[diurnalrevelation]

sleuth jesters eclipse makes me want to throw a brick at him.

[mephoj]

late night chat

[soren-apologist]

time for more soren character analysis:

petrine’s battle conversation with soren in chapter 23 has always been a favorite of mine, and now that i’m looking at it again i noticed a few extra details:

it’s important to mention that this battle takes place directly after ike and soren’s a-support, in which soren confesses he’s a branded and expects to be shunned, only for ike to tell him that it doesn’t matter and he wants soren to stay by his side regardless.

anyway, besides “Now let me show you true fear!” being a really hard line, it’s really cool to see how soren’s reaction to his branded status being pointed out changes so sharply over the course of a handful of chapters. i already analyzed his reaction to nasir’s betrayal where he’s agitated over the fact that he could have prevented it if nasir hadn’t threatened to reveal him being branded to the army, so seeing him being so confident in himself is great, and i’ll touch on why here.

one of the reasons i like to say the game treats ike and soren’s a-support as canon is actually this particular conversation. soren, having just been reassured that ike will always want him at his side regardless of who or what he is, now suddenly has had his biggest fear and insecurity taken off his back. he doesn’t need to hate himself for being branded because ike, the only person who’s ever truly mattered to soren, doesn’t care at all.

back to the conversation, soren’s judgment over the situation at hand is no longer clouded by his own self-loathing. instead of comparing them as branded and seeing himself as just as horrid and disgusting as petrine (tiger branded, fun fact), he’s able to instead compare them as individuals and realize that what he’s done up to that point will never measure up to the atrocities she’s committed. i think the best part personally is just how disgusted soren looks by the notion he and petrine are the same, because he’s right— him being cutthroat and pragmatic is nothing compared to everything petrine has done in daein’s name— and the fact he can clearly see this means that, for the very first time, he’s finally starting to heal from the mental wounds inflicted upon him by his childhood.

overall, i like this little nod to soren starting to learn to grow and change from who he was at the beginning of fe9. it’s more clearly seen in radiant dawn, where he’s calmer to the point ranulf even comments on it, but these little inklings implying the start of soren’s healing are really cool to see.

[ali3nboyfriend]

i see a lot of talk of fellow adhd and autistic folk feeling like they’re too much for other people but i don’t see a lot of talk about feeling like you’re not enough. low energy adhd and autism where it takes a lot of effort to use words so your way of showing affection is to sit there and vibe in people’s presence but it comes off like you’re not paying attention or it’s not “active” enough to count, or forgetting to reply to DMs (or like i said, Words Hard), and it again comes off as you not caring or ignoring people. it’s really hard to be putting in so much effort to maintain friendships you value only for that effort to not be seen, or to be read as apathy, or for it to be seen but still not be what other people want. even worse when you try and talk more and be more active in a relationship but you end up burning yourself out because you don’t have enough energy to maintain it.

[cryptidjeepers]

I havent participated in daily dracula this year, but that and re: dracula really shows how important it is that schools reevaluate how they teach classics. Especially when literacy is at such a low point and an interest in books is so uh not great. I guarantee students that engaged in classics in fun and unique ways remember the books so much better than those that were forced to just read it.

[funkbun]

i think it's funny how floofy n beffica are leading that Evil Grumpuses poll cause to me they're two completely different levels of "Shitty Person" lol

they're like this to me