#kinda?? how tf do i tag this

[autisticlancemcclain]

Lance opens his eyes to white nothingness.

It takes him a moment to adjust, for the sight in front of him to focus into a plaster popcorn ceiling rather than a block of bright white. He blinks rapidly, clearing the bleariness, steadying himself on the steady couch cushions in the castle common room.

He stills.

The castle?

He glances back up at the ceiling, but it’s as smooth as it’s always been; dozens of feet above him. No bright plaster, no textured popcorn ceiling. He squeezes his eyes shut, wondering what he’ll see when he opens them again, wondering where he even really is.

But when he opens them again, it’s still the castle. He’s still in space.

“Did you fall asleep?”

He drops his gaze from the ceiling, landing on Keith, who’s looking at him in fond amusement.

“No,” Lance says, because he doesn’t remember losing consciousness.

“Yes you did,” Keith responds, grinning. “Loser.”

Lance rolls his eyes and tries to kick him, but Keith grabs his foot easily, tugging it towards him. Lance gets the hint, lifting his feet and placing them in Keith’s lap as he reclines back into the couch cushions. Keith rests his hands on Lance’s ankles, tugging up the hem of his pants to brush his fingers on cool skin. Lance matches his breathing with the steady movements.

“You can go back to sleep,” Keith murmurs. “I don’t mind.”

Lance almost protests. It’s lovely to be sitting with him. He’s cute when he’s soft, when he’s not worried about what they’re doing next, when he lets his guard down. Lance only wishes things were less slow, less lethargic, so his eyes weren’t so heavy.

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The rain starts to come down harder, faster, and it gets harder and harder to see. Lance squints, trying to see through the sleet of rain. It’s hard; he can barely see the shadows in front of him even though it can’t be past noon. The wind is icy, blowing at the soaked fabric of his orange uniform coat. Strangely he’s not cold. He’s hot, actually, suffocating in a blanket of heat, even as the rain pelts his skin, drops down his nose.

“Taylor! Come on!”

A boy appears in front of him. Lance startles — it’s so hard to see in the storm that it’s like he’s popped out of thin air. The boy’s long black hair is plastered to his head, and he’s soaked to the bone. He reaches out and wraps a glove-covered hand around Lance’s wrist, pulling gently.

“Come on, it’s freezing, you’re going to get sick. Let’s go, Taylor.”

Taylor?

Lance’s sneakers are soaked through, and usually that would bother him. But for some reason he can’t bring himself to move, to walk away. He hasn’t felt the rain on his skin in two years.

That doesn’t make sense. It’s the middle of the rain season in the Arizona desert. All students are forbidden from going outside. He’s not supposed to be here. This boy isn’t, either, this boy who calls him Taylor.

Lance followed this boy. Didn’t he? That’s why he’s out here in the first place, against Garrison orders. He always gets in trouble for following this boy into trouble.

His shoes are heavy with water, but slowly he picks up his feet, crossing his ankles. He smiles slightly and lets himself twist, holding his open palms out to the sky, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. A raindrop hits his cheek and slides down to his lips. It tastes of salt.

“You’re ridiculous! It’s a storm, Taylor! We need to get back before we get caught! Or hurt!”

Lance looks over at the boy. His indigo eyes are narrowed, clouded over with frustrated, strong brow furrowed to protect his eyes from the water.

He looks troubled. He’s too young to be this trouble. They both are.

Lance shifts their hands, so they’re entwined, and pulls the boy forward. He stumbles, but doesn’t fall.

“What are you doing?”

Lance smiles, grabbing his other hand, and twirls him around to imaginary music. For a minute the boy stubbornly resists, then a small smile cracks his face, and he relents.

“You’re crazy,” he says.

Lance just smiles. It’s kind of nice to be rained on with this boy, whoever he is.

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A hard bump in the road smacks Lance’s head to the window, dragging him awake.

“Fuck,” Keith curses. “Sorry, Bluebell. Go back to sleep, we’re still a little ways away.”

Lance yawns, shaking his head. “No, I wanna stay awake. Don’t want to lose any time with you.”

It’s clearly the right thing to say. Keith smiles, wide, showing the crooked incisors Lance loves so much. He reaches over and grasps Lance’s hand in one of his, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a kiss to one of the knuckles. Stubble tickles the back of his hand.

“Me either.”

Neither of them speaks after that. Keith’s broken car radio lets out a burst of static every couple of minutes, but it’s drowned out by the sound of rain pelting the windshield. Keith hums slightly as he drives, tapping a finger on the steering wheel. It feels familiar, almost, like the start of a movie Lance has seen a thousand times. He supposes he has, with how often they’ve made this drive.

The drive takes another hour, but it feels so short. Too soon they’re driving past the farm fields, turning onto a long gravel driveway, stopping in front of a brick house with blue paint peeling from the door.

Keith parks the car, pulling off his seatbelt and shifting to face Lance. His smile is kind of melancholy. He cups his hands around Lance’s face, and the leather of his gloves feels too soft, almost blurry, somehow, corporeal. He leans in and kisses Lance gently, reverently, sadly.

“Tell your family I said hi,” he murmurs, pulling away slightly.

“You could come in for a while,” Lance offers. He doesn’t want to leave. He doesn’t want Keith to leave.

But Keith is already shaking his head. “You gotta go, Lance.”

His words are muffled. Far away. Lance isn’t sure that’s even what he said.

Lance blinks and then he’s slamming the car door, running to the porch with his jacket hiked over his head. He turns back when he reaches the front door, but Keith is already gone.

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Lance wakes to sunlight warming his bare skin. His sheets are smooth on his legs, resting on his thighs and belly, barely really covering him. Most of the sheets are tangled around toned, pale legs, knobby knees. Lance follows them all the way up to a wide chest, covered in scars, and a well-defined jaw, thick black hair streaked with grey. A man stares at him, bleary-eyed, smile making his crow’s feet more defined. A long purple scar stretches across his cheek. Lance realises he’s leaning on the man’s chest, fingertips tracing shapes on his rough skin.

“How long’ve you been ‘wake, sweetheart?” the man mumbles, slight Texan accent bleeding into his words.

Lance shrugs. Truly, he has no idea.

The man says nothing more, only pressing a kiss to Lance’s hair before leaning back into the pillows, holding him tightly. Lance takes the time to look around the unfamiliar bedroom, trying to find out where he is. There are pictures everywhere; the man, Lance, Lance and the man, Lance and the man and a group of other smiling faces. Lance recognises none of them. There’s a large vanity table by the window, surface covered in various bottles and lotions, obviously not the man’s. It’s all as familiar as it is foreign.

The man runs calloused fingers over Lance’s ribs, slowly, and he shivers. No one has ever touched him like that before; intimately, quietly, adoringly. Touching for the sake of touch, like there’s nowhere he’d rather be than in Lance’s space.

He’s cute. He makes Lance feel safe.

Lance should probably find out his name.

But the man traces what’s clearly a heart on Lance’s sternum, and Lance is so comfortable. He feels like all his worries are a step away. Something’s wrong, he knows it is, but it’s lovely to sit between this comfort and chaos.

He doesn’t want to ruin the moment.

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This time there’s no rain. He’s not asleep beforehand. He simply comes to awareness in the car, hand clutched in Keith’s, static playing gently through the radio. They’re driving to Lance’s family’s house again, and the sense of deja vu is stronger this time, the sense of wrongness. It slips out of him, the feeling.

“Something’s not right,” Lance says quietly.

Keith snorts. “Yeah, no kidding. You could just move in with me, you know. Then we wouldn’t have to do this every couple of weeks.”

That’s not it. It’s not — separation. That’s not what Lance meant. He opens his mouth to say so, but as he does, he feels something hook around the inside of his ribcage, yanking him backwards, out the car, out of his body, out of the space. He hovers above, watching himself settle back into the passenger side, clutching Keith’s hand. Neither of them say anything for the entire drive.

Lance watches as his body presses Keith against the door when they park, kissing him soundly, laughing about something, then standing to get out. There’s no rain this time, so he lingers, leaning against the car door and sticking his head through the open window. He says something. Keith laughs, then leans over and kisses Lance again, gently, softly, hand sliding through his hair. Lance feels that, far away, from where he’s floating above them, the phantom hands in his hair.

As his body walks back to his family’s house, turning back and waving at least six times, Lance realises that it’s not real. None of it. Not the car, not the kiss, not Keith. None of it is. He presses his fingertips to his lips and they slide right through, like he’s made of air. He can’t remember the last time he was kissed. He can’t remember anything. The realisation is familiar, like the end of something, like watching the last scene of a movie and realising as the credits roll that he’s seen it before.

The familiar wrongness of it all bubbles up in him. Suddenly he wants to scream as loud as he can, but he finds he doesn’t have vocal chords to do it. Or a mouth.

Slowly, the world around him blinks in and out, the colours fade, the shapes and shadows disappear. All that’s left is a bright, endless white.

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Lance opens his eyes to white nothingness.

[stormypip7]

the *other* part! i felt the need to draw this one too, considering the events of the latest episode...

(for @cherrifire 's dtiys! again)

/also, small thing; you can see where i messed up a bit on grian's face (that's just the downside of using biros to draw with)

[buqbite]

part 1 (on VA and being better than humans)

part 2 (on welt and being just a human)

[mx-heinous]

Getting Lost in the Batcave

Goon 1: Do you even know where you're going?!

Goon 2: Can it! I'm trying!

Goon 1: Where even are we?!

Goon 2: This place looks kinda weird. Wait, look at all this stuff, and are those bats? Hold on a sec, is this Batman's hideout?!

Goon 1: I can't believe it! The boss is gonna be so thrilled.

Goon 2: Yeah, I know ri– Mr. Wayne???

Bruce: Hey, guys!!! :D

Goon 1: Uhhh, sir, what are you doing here?

Bruce: What do you mean? This is my basement. Here, go have some finger sandwiches! :D

Goon 2: Your basement? But what are those screens for?

Bruce: It's a bit of a secret, but I'm getting into gaming! Pretty fun

Goon 1: The Batmobile?

Bruce: Just a replica made for my collection. Having the real Batmobile would be so cool, though. Look at all the neat stuff I found around town from Batman's adventures!

Goon 1 and Goon 2 are thinking this is a little weird. Then, they remember that this guy also has a Gray Ghost memorabilia museum, and yeah, no, this tracks.

Goon 1: Ohhh, so sorry for the intrusion, Mr. Wayne. We got a little lost trying to find our way out.

Bruce: No problem, boys. Exit's on the left of that really tall spike. Toodles!

*On their way out*

Goon 2: Huh, who knew Mr. Wayne would be such a Batman fan?

Goon 1: Yeah, I don't know what we were thinking. There's no way Batman would actually live in a literal batcave. That's just too basic! Even for him

[littlelightfish]

I see NOBODY talking about out local dwarf.

Look at him. He looks so terrified about the sole thought of his new friends meeting the one creature that ate all his friends before. He doesn't want to loose this guys. They're far too young. He himself was around their ages [relatively, Chil's out of this but he doesnt get it] when it all happened.

Oooh he panicking. He terrified now. His friends are going to die eaten alive. He just knows it. He can't see that happen. He doesn't... he can't. He's going to get killed. They're all going to get killed. Just like last time. PTSD hitting hard here.

OH THE SCREAMS. THE FUCKING SCREAMS. *cheffkiss*

He sounds so blinded by fear. SO TERRIFIED.

Listen to it in English and japaneese, i heard all the others, not as good. The English VA left his lungs in the studio I just know it. Same for japaneese.

This is the face of a man that knows he's met his fate.

[starryeyeddreamer21]

Hazbin Hotel Incorrect Quotes

Angel: *sliding money across the bar to pay for his drinks* You can call me sugar daddy longlegs

Husk: no

Niffty: Does that make Husk sugar baby shortlegs?

Husk: No

Niffty: Can I be sugar baby shortlegs?

Husk: NO

Angel: *wheeze*

[yozzers]

i dont think i know how to draw transformers...i also suck very bad at finding quick references

[pigeonpeach]

Love behind the Spotlight

Aka Robin x fmab reader

SPOILERS BTW made before the most recent update!

Warnings: death, spoilers, suicidal thoughts, lil smut, reader is called girlfriend sometimes, not proofread

“Sorry I’m late! The paparazzi out there are ruthless!” You quickly pushed your back to the door and locked it just incase. You visibly relaxed upon hearing the familiar click.

“Its okay love, you’re one time actually, they have to fix the set so we have some time.” Robin said, getting up from her chair to give you a quick peck. This woman was a goddess in your eyes, how else could you explain how easily you relaxed in her company, how all the troubles of the world faded into nothing when her wings cupped your face while you kissed. A bottle of soulglad could never compare to a kiss from Robin to you. Dreamscape or not, Robin is what truly made your life magical. You could tell she was a little tense, she seemed worried.

“Is something the matter? Was someone rude?” You rolled up your sleeves but she placed her hand on your arm.

“No…its just those articles.. they say I’ve gained weight..” Robin’s smile faded.

“Gained? If anything you should! You’re quite literally light as a feather! Those journalists have their heads up their ass and gossip on the brain 24/7. You could get a actual trashcan to write a better article than most of them. They only want more attention, and you just happened to be the prettiest and most perfect punching bag for them to take it out on.” You gently petted her wings, not wanting to mess up her hair. She reminded you of your pet bird in the way her eyes would close a little whenever you tended to her like this.

“I know its just exhausting to constantly be a target. At least I have you… I hope that we can go public someday..” she looked at you with smile, that radiant curve that rewired your brain like a addiction.

“Someday, I’m going to kiss you right infront of those annoying fans who try to ask you out. And I’ll flip them off. I’ll give those journalists something to write about.” You smiled. She did as well..

“This.. this is your choice in partner?” Sunday didn’t seemed pleased. Robin seemed agitated at that.

“What do you mean by that? They’re nothing but loyal and honest to me!” She was on edge and he could sense that.

“I just simply thought you could do better. Even if you are into… well.. girls, there’s far better options for a celebrity like yourself. Not that I doubt you love them, if you’re relationship with them ever got out then it would be nothing but controversy. People would accuse you of taking advantage of them, lying to your fans, all sorts of things.” He sighed. “It’s just a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Well.. I’d rather have them by my side for that then. They make me feel more confident and assured. I feel safe in their presence. I already get unnecessarily criticized and wrapped into controversies regardless of what I do, At least this way I do so happily.” She huffed.

“I can see they’ve been a influence on you, although I can’t say its that bad.. just be careful. We’ll try to ease the public into it. Probably starting with the notion, then more public appearances, song’s mentioning the situation and then finally the announcement. How long have you two been dating?”

“A year actually.”

“YOU didn’t TELL ME!”

“I should leave soon, otherwise the media will be wondering why I’m sleeping over.” You sighed, starting to lace up your attire, your back turned to her, you knew if you just saw the top of her collarbone right now you would never be able to leave this room, but then the media would speculate. There was already rumors, you had seen it online of people joking Robin was into you even from your friendly interactions. If you didn’t leave soon then it would only add fuel to the fire. But you didn’t want to. Her bed was comfy, the sheets were silken and soft and the mattress cupped your body so lovingly, that’s not even mentioning the cuddle expert Robin is. How her gentle voice is better than the sleeping pills you have to take if you wish to get any sleep, how her soft hands hold you like otters drifting in the sea, and when you watch her wings twitch in her sleep. Her hand traced your back, like a hypnosis you had ceased movement, but Robin would never need to use the harmony on you, if she wanted something she could ask and you would comply easily.

“Please?” That’s all it took for your resolve to crumble. You could never say no to that face or that voice. You discarded your pants that hadn’t even been zipped yet, kicking them off to some corner in the dark.

“Who am I to refuse?” You smiled playfully as you rejoined her under the sheets. Her hands quickly yanked you into her embrace. She pecked your face with kisses, like a bird preening its lover, her hands smoothed the messy bedhair you now had.

“I love you.. I love you so much..” she whispered inbetween kisses. You could tell from her voice and demeanor then that you wouldn’t sleep that night.

Your hand found its way to her back, tracing the shoulder blades while she dotted your face with whatever was left of her lipstick. You would go through a whole packet of makeup wipes tomorrow but it’d be worth it. You wouldn’t leave this bed if your life depended on it. It would be nice to die in her arms afterall, you would die happy if you went out while she was eating you out. Her kisses trailed down and down until she was at your chest, without hesitation she swirled her tongue on your breasts like she knew you liked it. You gasped as you held your hand to your mouth.

“Robin? Robin?” A voice sounded from the door as you both froze. By instinct you dove under the sheets as she hurriedly put her night gown back on, meanwhile you covered yourself in her pillows and plushies to further hide your form.

“Sorry sorry.” She said as she placed one final pillow over you then opened the door. “What is it?”

“Your performance was cancelled due to a technical issue at the venue. Apparently some of the tech there broke overnight and they don’t have hopes itll be repaired in time. So you can sleep in tonight.” Sunday said.

“Oh that’s great!”

“Also has your assistant gone home? I didn’t see them take one of the guest rooms.” He asked. She paused before smiling a bit.

“Actually.. they’re spending the night..” she said quietly to him. He looked at her skeptically, but ultimately he just sighed.

“Just be quiet.” He left afterwards. You heard the door close and lock as Robin quickly pounced onto the bed, digging you out of your makeshift burial with a eager expression. “You won’t mind being quiet tonight right?”

“You’ll have to gag me.”

“Where’s Robin?” You approached Sunday confused, you had a week off work so you had been having some time to yourself, enjoying the festivities and atmosphere of the dreamscape. Sunday seemed different, usually he was more relaxed in a situation like this, where he’s simply standing around at the balcony, overlooking Peacony’s scenery like he is its god.

“She’s… a little busy at the moment. Your vacation has been extended. Enjoy your time off.” He said. You immediately didn’t buy it.

“Bull shit where the fuck is she?” You said, your heart starting to race. For once Sunday looked uncertain, panicked even. It was not pleasing or assuring to see, you felt dread building in your stomach. “What happened… why aren’t you saying anything…”

“Robin… is fine.. just enjoy your vacation. Its paid as well so you’ll have no worries.” He repeated like a broken record.

“She has a performance coming up, I’m supposed to go with her.” You said. “Are you firing me? What is going on?!”

“You are not being fired. You l.. lets take this inside..” he looked at you with a look you could only describe as guilt and sympathy. You felt only worse as you followed him into his office.

“There you are~” you felt relieved to hear her voice coming from behind. Robin smiled as always as she quickly engulfed you in a hug.

“Don’t be so silly brother~ I could always use a extra hand!” Robins arm wrapped around you confidently, something she only did in complete utter privacy. Your heart sank, this isn’t her usual demeanor. She’s playful in scenarios sure, where its just you and her, or sunday too sometimes, but she has some composure to her.

“Robin I’m so goad you’re okay.” You hugged her awkwardly, wondering if something was wrong. You could hear Sunday growing apprehensive.

“That’s enough you fool.. its one thing to play an act for appearances but to try and fool her lover?!” Sunday hissed, you immediately backed off looking at him then ‘Robin’ who now had a uncharacteristic smile on her face. Within a instant its like she was gone, now replaced by a twin tailed, scantily dressed, clothed in red lady with the most devilish smirk.

“You’re no fun, i thought we really had to sell this illusion.” She teased.

“What the fuck”. You backed up as you felt your world crumble. Sunday got s stand in… but why? What happened to Robin. He turned to you with a look of sympathy.

“Look I understand you’re confused but you can’t speak about this. The Family is trying to avoid a panic so we must keep this under wraps.. Robin is.. well..” you had always known Sunday to be the perfect guy, spokesperson, model, negotiator, whatever. His composure was pristine and his fake smile never faltered even with you. Now it did. And that devilish lady wasn’t helping.

“You’re little girlfriend is dead~” she said tauntingly. With that you felt a sense of numbness come over.

“Bu-but… people can’t die in the dreamscapes.. how..”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out. Now I ask you don’t react irrationally, I could use some help on the case and-���

“Robin is dead… she’s dead.. like.. I’ll never see her again?” You asked baffled.

“She got murdered by some weird black eyed creature~” The lady added, Sunday shot her another glare.

“Sparkle if you’re going to be so insensitive then I ask you leave, you are not helping this meeting!” He said.

“Hey, I’m not the one who can’t tell her the truth. She was your sister’s girlfriend the least you can do is tell her what happened!” She didn’t stand down one bit.

But you weren’t focused on them. They were to busy arguing to notice you were now crying. You thought about your last text to her. ‘It doesn’t feel like a vacation when you’re not here with me :(‘ she had responded with a heart, and a message assuring you that you would be reunited soon. Maybe even a joke about how she’d work you even harder since you liked your job so much. Such things that warmed your heart now froze it instead, tearing at the veins and flesh like a blender. You sunk to the floor as you failed to comprehend the world around you.

“Do you feel better now.” Sunday asked cautiously as you laid in the cushions in his office. Sparkle having been kicked out for her unhelpful comments. You had never known Sunday to be fond of you in any way. To be honest you didn’t think he was capable of of it. But you guessed he just wanted to share his pain with someone. You knew how the family was, you knew how secretive everything must be. You never took the job offer with the intention of falling for its shinning idol. In fact you initially thought of her as annoying. She was so perfect in the light with no flaws, but when you saw the person off stage and in the shadows you fell for her. You loved Robin, not the idol not the celebrity, the person. The person who’s wings would hide her face when she was shy, the person who was always so nice to you, who saw you as more than a hired help but a person. You had worked for many celebrities before, smaller and bigger and none were like her. Your love had been the slowest of burns, and you imagined it would be a eternal flame.

“I don’t… I feel like shit.” You replied. You would never feel her warmth, her presence, her love, her sudden boldness, anything Robin was now gone.

“I understand. Its why I wanted to give you more vacation time.” He explained.

“So you wouldn’t have told me?” You asked, you were too tired to yell or scream. You had always been a passionate person. You would curse out paparazzi and make rude remarks. You would play the villain so Robin didn’t have to ruin her image by standing up for herself, but now you could only be as you were. A corpse laying on the ground waiting to be engulfed by the earth.

“I wasn’t allowed to. No one is supposed to know of her death. The family.. is covering it up until more information comes out.”

“How did she die.. how can anyone die in the dreamscape?” You asked. He paused.

“She was.. murdered… as for death in the dreamscape, I’m just as puzzled as you are.” He said, but you felt he knew more. You had no more fight in you now though, he could shoot you right here and you wouldn’t budge or try to dodge.

“If death can happen in the dreamscape… could it happen to me too.” You didn’t mean to say that outloud but he heard it anyways.

“Are-are you saying that you wish to die!” He sounded shocked.

“I don’t have anything outside of work. All I have ever been is a employee for brighter stars, Robin was the only one who made life more enjoyable and lively. I haven’t. I promised to protect her till the end and I failed. The least I could do is join her in death.” You said. You didn’t bother to look at his face.

“I understand how you feel. I miss Robin too. I want nothing more than to find her murderer and drag them through the streets. I’d love nothing more than to just curse them out on live television. But i cannot.”

“I loved her Sunday. I loved her more than anything in this life, dreamscape, reality, nothing compared to her. I’d pluck the stars from the skies if she asked, I’d grovel at her feet and lay my jacket in muddy puddles if she asked. I’d do anything.. and now all I’m left with is this pain. I hate it… I hate it.” You sat up clutching your head.

“I understand. I never had any doubts that you loved her. Nor did I ever doubt your loyalty to her once. All my life I have been the protective brother, I felt like I had to be, the world was so cruel and she was so innocent. When you joined it made me worried, I did everything I could to find something against you, nothing weighed enough to prove my suspicions right. If anyone was a good fit for my sister, it was you.” He said. You sighed.

“How am I supposed to live like this then? What exactly should I live for. What use is life when no one gives you a reason to live.” You sighed.

“I don’t want to lose you too. Although we aren’t close, I don’t want to be the only one in this world who grieves for her. The loneliness I feel is so much worse without her.”

“Its hard to smile when you have nothing to smile for huh?” You added. “How do you plan on handling this, you always have a plan don’t you?”

“I do alright. I’ll make that.. creature pay…” his tone changed. You looked at him with a little surprise. You learned a lot more about your almost brother in law in this moment than you had the years you worked for his sister.

“Wouldn’t it be dangerous, if it can kill people in the dreamscape then how could you possibly.. handle it.”

“Rest assured I have my plans and theories. If you would like, I could use help enacting some.” He said. You sat uncertain. His tone was more unhinged, his hands were clutched at the table’s edge so tight you swore the wood creaked. The halo on his head shook as he attempted to steady himself. You were scared seeing him like this. He had been mad before but he never once let down that polite smile or mannered voice.

“Just get me a bottle of something and I’ll hear you out. I don’t want to feel this pain in my chest anymore.”

“That’s not an answer.” He said. You pondered for a minute. You weighed by grief, kept in the seat. But you knew you needed something to do if you wanted to live.

“I’ll help.“ you answered.

[jafsisomni]

Because I just had to.

Something something,

"George quietly made his way over to his driver's room, trying not to lose control of his breathing because he already almost fainted during the debrief, almost had another panic attack and made yet again a fool of himself, almost cried about disappointing toto, Lewis, the team and everyone else in the paddock. Closing the door by himself and leaning back against it, he stared blankly ahead of himself, distracted by the floor seemingly swaying and feeling dizzy with the weight of everything that has happened all over the day, all over Qatar, all over the week, all over the whole fucking year.

was it not enough that he tried his best all the time? Was it not enough that he spent longer than anyone else on the paddock, every single day, night in and morning out? Is it not enough yet that he has barely gotten any sleep in the past few months, but nobody seems to care and yet he tries to hold himself within and not let it all spill and say something he'll just end up regretting and because he doesn't wanna hurt or harm anyone else like that? Is it not enough that he tries his best to talk to all the drivers and the people working behind the scenes, get their opinions and not make them uncomfortable or undermined? Is he perhaps too overbearing when he asks about how their days were, Is it a lot to constantly say hello whenever he gets the chance, is it rude to try to talk to each of them privately and respectfully, trying to be as inclusive and understanding as he could manage to be whenever it's required he gets their opinions on something? Is it too faced if he's calm about things when explaining them in the meetings, is it disrespectful if he doesn't raise his voice enough to be properly heard while talking to one mechanic or engineer instead of the whole room all at once during debriefs? Is it unsettling if he pronounces too slowly, maybe he should try to speak more quickly? He remembers as a media new intern girl once shyly asked him to slow down because her english wasn't that good either, during his first week this year, he hopes she's not upset because she's doing such an amazing job?

He wonders if its too faced to want to keep each and every driver's opinion and confidently opinionated talk he'd been trusted with, within the confines of their shared space, a mental space between two people where everyone involved feels comfortable-- wonders if lando is still upset he called the move a little bit reckless in the media pen god knows how many months ago, wonders if he still feels upset about feeling like he's not enough until George held him all through the night, never once taking a moment to breathe through his own dnf. If Alex is still upset with him because he doesn't talk to him as much anymore, hasn't since last summer break, but george promises he's always trying, taking more time out of his own sleep to text the other driver and check up on him, wonders if charles still hates him for the change that wasn't even his to decide, still blames him (by accident, is what he tells himself) for being closer to everyone than they all realise, wonders if franco is still as scared and overwhelmed by it all, up until he cried in his arms during that talk, wonders if logan hasn't called him yet because he wants nothing to do with george after he kept their friendship private and didn't showcase it to the public, and decided he didn't want someone like george around anymore in his life, wonders if Oscar still feels hesitant voicing opinions out as much as he does with either lando or himself.

He sincerely hopes max still isn't mad at him. He hopes max doesn't want to yell anymore about a stupid worthless penalty anymore either. He prays the other man doesn't hate him as much as he told the media he did now, tries not to cry as he remembers everyone going quiet the moment max snapped at him mid meeting and told him to just shut up because he isn't doing anything, would never be anywhere like seb,and that he hated him. Tries not to throw up as he remembers the email, as he remembers almost losing it in front of ola when he asked if george was alright, despite having won, tries not to throw up as the pounding in his head suddenly grows far too strong to be withstood and george finds himself stumbling away from the door in his haste to get away, get out, do something, anything- Just to stop it all and have a single moment of quiet, but he doesn't get the chance to as the door slams open and the force of the sound makes him see dark spots before he notices a figure he could barely make out until someone's talking to him and he suddenly realises it's toto and panics because he's just so,so sorry he'd spoken too much, gone too far and said too much to the media earlier, spilled open far too much and the next thing he knows amidst the fog his name is being called as another figure, he thinks, makes his way in in a rush as more white spirals into his vision and it all goes black and dull and quiet."

something something ;).

@tyremanagementsupremacy

@autumn816

@russelliv (bec i adore u)

@russilton (bec i also adore u and admire u lots)

@dellovestorant (not sure if u even like rpf but I like ur blog sooo)

@georgegraphys (same thing)

@grbambi63 (once again, the same thing ahaha)

[mothscotch]

art style crisis doodles (+ drawings i forgot 2 post (sorry goalie

bearded ghost design by kekamao its genuis

[killerslowpoke]

02-09-24

assorted memes

[arson-09]

How people are trying to change fandom (the rise of hatred against non-canon media)

This was inspired by the rise of backlash against the "Rhysta" ship.

Traditionally throughout the history of fandom spaces on social media, a very important factor has been creativity of course. Art and Fics by fans being the backbone of a fandom. Including non-canon ships, Aus, etc. And of course there was drama (when is there not drama?) BUT there wasn't as much hate because there was an understanding that it's not REAL. People in fandoms understood creativity and thinking outside the box (canon)

But something interesting happened in 2020 with the pandemic, people who weren't apart of fandom spaces started joining cause what else were you going to do? but there started the divide. These people wouldn't have joined fandoms originally because they didn't have that sort of creativity. Which isn't a bad or negative thing, everyone is different and that what makes the world go around, but these people were not used to fandom spaces and that divergency. To them, things have to be how it was written and non-canon things, ships or au's that can't hurt you or become canon, were blasphemous. Because why change the foundation if you liked the original media? this also ties into the "why do you read or interact with this media?" questions when people engage with media in their own way even if they dislike the majority of it. which is valid to do, I do it personally with acotar. I dislike the majority of acotar from the way it's written to lots of the characters, but I interact with a certain subset of the fandom that shares a love for the same characters as I.

But these people, these mostly neurotypical, TikTok people, intrude into these safe creative spaces and cause a ruckus over non-canon Aus and ships. for no reason! Ships like Rhysta are harmless, of course people who make and consume this media don't think it's going to be real, and that's the misconception! Making and consuming non-canon media doesn't mean you think it's going to happen or want it to happen, it's just existing. existing for the sake of existing and stretching creative muscles. You can't grow as an artist if you do not break from the mold, from the restraints of canon.

What you are doing by constantly harassing and posting shit about non-canon media is showing you lack a fundamental understanding of Fandom. Policing what people do is a fruitless endeavor. of course, calling out actually problematic creators is okay, when what they're doing is actually harmful and not them being creative or God forbid, a little weird.

There has been and still needs to be respect in the places. Filtering tags for things that upset you and blocking creators you disagree with is key to being someone people will actually listen to and respect. If you refuse to do that, no one you harass, or attack will take you seriously. and maybe that's not your objective but that means you're going to be blocked on main and made fun of. And this segment is somewhat targeted at someone who has been consistently harassing my mutuals, but I've seen so many people like this and it's a real issue. And its such an issue in Booktok popular books and shows, and media that becomes popular with the masses.

Fandom spaces aren't meant to follow canon to a T. People will have non-canon ships, opinions on how they think the series should have gone, opinions on characters, etc. Constantly harassing and targeting creators won't change that.

I know this won't stop this behavior, it will continue to happen but it's been bothering me and maybe this will change some people's minds on how they interact with the media they like, and they hate.

I love rhysta, I think that the dynamic is very interesting and that people are free to explore that and say whatever they want about how it could have gone in canon. None of that means i think its going to happen or that it should. Lord, people are just having fun. Like they should in fandom places.

[inact-ice]

henren are still together but most of their plots are about their kids or issues in their marriage. They did have the set up for an interesting plot involving a corrupt public official in season 8 but the show resolved it in a single episode. There problem is there's one other gay man on the show, Josh, but he doesn't get relationships or even much focus outside of his work so Tommy being written out is pretty much the death of rep for gay men who started the show because of bucktommy and because they saw themselves in Tommy.

Idk this is kind of weird to me, I’m a black nonbinary bisexual person, and there’s not a single black nonbinary bi person in the show (as far as I know idk again I’m only on the beginning of season 2). And I’m really happy with the queer representation on 9-1-1 for the most part? Even w/ the henren cheating arc (ugh) and even though I can’t 100% relate to any of the queer experiences on the show, a show having a main couple that’s unapologetically black and Lesbian, is still representation for the community and the loss of 1 gay white man doesn’t mean that we’re losing representation in my opinion.

Though again, I haven’t met Tommy yet so idk, maybe he’s way better written than Hen or Karen. Also, I feel like all of the couples on the show have had marriage or kid issues? Maybe that’s all HenRen becomes, but if that’s the case, why are people less angry about that than Tommy leaving? If 9-1-1 is fumbling this badly with like the only black lesbian couple as main characters representation on network tv, that’s kind of a big deal.

Idk I was just kinda side eyeing some of the comments I saw like this, it feels like people are saying that Tommy is more important and better representation than HenRen and it’s making all my fandom racism alarms go off, like again, maybe they totally fumble HenRen and Tommy is like a beautifully written gay character the likes of which we’ve never seen before, but the things people have been saying have been WEIRD!

Also I just met Josh! Does he really never get a boyfriend??? UGH! And I know Athena’s mean gay husband doesn’t show up in later seasons bc the actors anti mask allegedly too, so I do kinda understand the frustration! It’s just like, still weird. But when I get to season 8 in 2045 I’ll do like a whole fun analysis thing with bucktommy in mind.

[yourcomputerr]

[ID: a black and white ink painting of Zelda from Skyward Sword. she is wearing the white dress and clutching the goddess harp to her chest, with her head turned to the side and her eyes closed. End ID.]

trying to make more art that looks a little bit shit bc i'm sure someone will find it beautiful <3 (as a treat you can get the sketches)

[ID: three loose sketches of the above painting. the first is done with pencil in the corner of a page. the second is in pink and blue pen, and the third is done with ink. End ID.]

[overly-verbose]

Seriously, bro's a professional yapper lmfao

Tbf it's not completely unprovoked and he does just want to at least try explaining some things, if in a roundabout way, to make people more at ease (if not in the moment then overall) but, well-

sometimes it has the opposite effect lmao 😂

Also like, it's absolutely hilarious how I thought

'oh but this is just, like three scenes - how long could this be'

but all the freaking talking and stuff that everyone's doing is making Part 8 the second longest in the series 😂😂😂💀😂

(I fear for my poor brain, man - we've only just barely almost covered the Detention Center Arc

(and a little bit of the VS Mahito Arc Mahito Gets Curse PTSD Arc but I do wanna fill in some of the gaps between those)

and it's already gonna be over 40k words???

Why am I being so ambitious for my first ever proper writing project frrr *perishes a bit*

but I do hope to get it to the end - and beyond because there's no way I wouldn't constantly add to the post-main-plot shenanigans lol - however long that takes heh (just try to be patient with me pls I try my best here 😂) 👍)

[basementpartier]

currently having thoughts about schlatt w/ separation anxiety

(all sfw)

texts his s/o about everything he's doing all the time to keep in as much contact as possible

also sends pictures of everything he's doing throughout the day since it can be faster and more engaging than just describing things or sending brief updates like "on the bus now"

calls every single night if he's away for multiple days. he'll typically either fall asleep on call or stay up super late talking to his s/o and fall asleep at like 5 am

likes calling his s/o while they're out of the house (as opposed to getting texts from them all the time cause he knows most people can't keep up with that)

not a big fan of splitting up when on an outing with his s/o, even if it'd make the trip faster or otherwise be more convenient

will come up to his s/o at random times during the day and just insist on hugging them for a minute or two cause he remembers that they're there and they're a person and he needs to be close to them