#not taking Your feelings into account…. what you want for yourself

[alwayslewis]

Have time for a much-needed uncomfortable discussion?

I know it's good that the sport now promotes Diversity and Inclusion that's been agreed by all F1 teams, F1, and the FIA. Honestly, good on everyone, but don't you think it's disappointing that it took them years to promote this when racism has been a longstanding issue in this sport? Now, I want you to remember that this charter has been formally addressed because of a direct result of the Hamilton Commission.

But remember back in 2020, Lewis Hamilton personally talked and asked these drivers to support the BLM Movement and show solidarity against racism by taking a knee, but some of them refused to do so and decided to downplay it as politics—those same drivers who were able to participate and show up in solidarity for the war happening in Ukraine—which I'm not policing them from doing, but it feels hypocritical, doesn't it?

This is going to be real hard to take in. If the shoe fits, and I know it will, I'm talking about those drivers you're repping, and 🫵🏽YOU if you keep on pushing that agenda that "we can't expect anything from them, they're privileged white men," not only is it harmful to justify these GROWN MEN's actions by saying they are privileged and white, it's just an admission of ignorance. I don't really get how some of you think that defending them using this narrative as if your whole life depended on it is better than actually acknowledging and admitting their moral shortcomings.

It's also disappointing that some fans are treating this situation as their "gotcha" moment for their little fan wars—it just goes to show where their moral compass lies. It wouldn't make you less of a fan if you held them accountable—and maybe yourselves too, and it wouldn't reduce their achievements as a sportsman if they were rightfully criticized for their actions. It all depends on what you choose to stand for—not wanting to be less of a fan or not wanting to be less of a person.

Let's not pretend that ignorance is still the sole reason why racism is still prevalent (not only in this sport but in the world), it's taught and often a calculated choice. It's not enough to not be racist, you've got to be anti-racist. Free yourself from hatred.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ breathe your name ♡

♡ Pairing: best man!hyunjin x bride!chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: angst/fluff

♡ Summary: It's the day of your lavish wedding. Everything's set in place. From the dress you wear to the aisle you're walking down, everything's picture perfect. At least you're able to pretend it is until the appearance of a particular wedding guest in your dressing room brings up feelings that you can't ignore. Will you be able to bury your past to get through this day or will you find yourself drawn back into the arms of thet man you swore you'd never speak to again?

♡ Word Count: 3.7k

♡ Warnings: mentions of an affair that you definitely had with Hyunjin. a lil make out session. mentions of sex. but other than that? none (shortest warnings list I've probably ever written. oh my gosh).

♡ A/N: This is what happens when you leave me alone with an Adele playlist. Anyway, I hope you have fun at your wedding. It's gonna be...interesting, babes xoxo

There’s something some girls spend their entire lives dreaming of. Wishing, even praying, for. 

The perfect wedding. 

And you have it. 

The picturesque church nestled in the heart of a gorgeous historical district. It costs more than some people’s mortgage to rent this place for a few hours. The simple act of laying eyes on it starts knocking numbers off of your bank account. The celebrity planner who's been on the cover of wedding magazines and worked tirelessly to make sure today’s an occasion people will talk about for years to come. The gorgeously crafted white dress, custom sewn and beaded for your special day. It accentuates every delicate contour of your figure perfectly. Like everything else here. So perfect. 

“Smile a little, babe. This is the happiest day of your life!” your makeup artist giggles, applying the finishing touches to your lipstick. 

Seated in front of a mirror in the church’s dressing room, you nervously toy with your diamond bracelet and force a faint smile. All you can manage under the circumstances. 

“It might be raining out there” she hums, her gaze drifting over to the gloomy sky looming beyond the stained glass windows, “But you, my dear, are pure sunshine.” 

She circles behind you, gentle hands resting on your bare shoulders. “So, what do you think?” she asks, fussing with a few flyaway hairs that managed to sneak their way out of your updo. 

You take a deep breath and summon all of your courage to face what you’ve been running from all day. Your own reflection. “It’s beautiful” you lie, your smile beginning to waver as your stomach audibly turns. 

She shouldn’t be here. No one should. Not your family. Not your friends. Certainly not you. This is not the best day of your life. This is a mistake. You’ve known that for a while now and have been biding your time ever since waiting for the right moment to fix it. But the moment never came and time, as it does, ran out. Your fiance’s proposal had been accepted out of spite. It didn’t matter at the time that you were giving yourself away to a cruel, narcissistic man whose greatest joy in life is that he can use his daddy’s money to buy who and what he wants. 

What mattered was that the man you truly loved, the one your heart pines for even now, had broken your heart and you needed to break his. A mission that the announcement of your engagement flawlessly accomplished but was it worth it? Was any of this worth it? Your heart sinks to your stomach as if weighed down by cement bricks, heavy with the knowledge that it wasn’t. 

Your makeup artist sees it on your face. The sorrow. The regret. A sudden tapping at the door diverts any attempt she might’ve made to question you. She turns to answer the door but there’s no need. A figure in black is already entering the room, filling the air with a cologne you once spent endless passionate nights inhaling. Without thinking you breathe it deep into your lungs, savoring it even as you despise the appearance of the man it emanates from. 

“You must be lost. The groom’s room is down the hall on the left” your makeup artist frowns, waving the man in the designer suit away. 

The corners of his lips quirk into something that’s not quite a smile but pleasant enough to be mistaken for one. “No, I’m not lost. I just need a second with her. I won’t be long” he insists, advancing towards you with a confidence you find both irritating and irresistible.

That was Hyunjin for you. So charming. So graceful. So handsome. So much of everything that you can hardly stomach him. You crave his touch on every inch of your body and want him to get lost all at the same time. 

You clear your throat, patting your makeup artist on the back of the hand, “It’s fine. If anyone asks, just let them know I need a moment please.”

Hesitantly she nods and makes her way out of the room, all the while keeping a skeptical eye on Hyunjin who takes her place behind you. He fusses with the same hairs, successfully finding an excuse to touch any part of you. 

Hyunjin sighs, head tilted to the side. He pokes his bottom lip out, releasing a huff of air that blows his long dark hair free of his line of vision. Now he can see you perfectly, unobstructed, and his eyes light up at you the way they always have. “You look like an angel” he smiles and it’s genuine this time, no matter how badly you wish it weren’t. His fingertips brush your ears and your body’s flush with heat in an instant. You always despised it, how little it takes for Hyunjin to get a reaction out of you. 

“What do you want?” you snap, your tone unforgiving. The way you look at him, it’s as if you hate him. Why? Hyunjin knows why. He can’t deny that he deserves it for what he’s done—for what he’s come here to do. His hands drift along the outline of your face. They skim your cheek too lightly to disturb your makeup but you feel his touch still.

“Leave” you demand, drawing in a sharp breath at the sensation, “I don’t want you here.” The power behind your request is not existent. Rather than come out threatening, laced with conviction, your words are nothing more than a whisper. If you had to rely on them to push him out of the door he wouldn’t move an inch. 

Hyunjin leans into your ears, his eyes not once leaving the mirror where they remain locked with yours in a gaze brimming with enough heat to burn down everything around you. “I’ll leave but only if that’s what you truly want” he whispers, gently placing a warm hand to the soft skin of your chest.

Your heart picks up a speed only he can make it race at. The feeling’s a comfort to him. It’s the knowledge that even after all that happened you still feel what he does. There’s a fondness there that can’t be buried, it’ll always find its way back to the surface, but there’s something else too. Something he’s been able to hide from until this moment. You’re broken. Over the past few months you’ve done everything to pretend that you weren’t but you are and the pain has your eyes swelling with tears even as you fight to hold them at bay. 

“Fuck you, Hyunjin!” you shout, bolting up from your chair just in time for a few tears to escape, “Since when have you ever cared what I truly want? It’s always been about you. All this will ever be about is you.” 

Your anger’s boiling, hot tears staining your cheeks as you pace the floor. Usually on her wedding day a bride sheds tears of joy for her husband at the altar yet here you are full on weeping in front of his best man. Speechless, Hyunjin reaches out to grab your arm but you pull away from him, backing yourself into the furthest corner of the room. 

“I don’t know why you’re here. I gave you everything and it wasn’t enough. What else do you want?”

Hyunjin watches you for a moment, letting your words flow through his veins like a poison of his own making. “I never said it wasn’t enough…”

“Oh, you never said it?” you scoff, “You’re right, you just said, ‘I can’t do this anymore’ and then acted like nothing ever happened.”

“I was trying to do the right thing.”

“If that was ‘the right thing’ then what do you call this?” 

You await an answer, hoping that for once he might have something worthwhile to say, but you’re met with silence. The same silence he’s offered you every day since he broke your heart. “

Typical” you mumble to yourself, returning to the vanity in a desperate search for tissues. Maybe if you grab them soon enough you can preserve some of what your makeup artist worked tirelessly to achieve. Drying your eyes you catch a glimpse of Hyunjin and for a fleeting moment he seems deflated, like he has something resembling feelings, but you made the mistake of believing that before and you can’t let yourself be fooled by it again. 

Hyunjin’s chest tightens, every breath beginning to feel like hard labor. There’s something he’s been holding inside too and it’s aching to come out, it won’t let him breathe until it does. “You’re right, all this was ever about was me, but I never thought you weren’t enough. I loved you, I love you, I was just afraid you still loved him.”

Tossing your tissues aside, you turn to face him, arms folded across your chest. “You were afraid I still loved him when I was in your bed everyday?”

“And you crawled back into his every night” he says, a hint of bitterness slipping out, “I knew you’d leave him for me but for how long? I thought that if I ended things…if I told you to be with him instead you’d be happier.”

You take a deep breath, doing a regal twirl for him in your wedding dress, “Do I look happier without you?”

Hyunjin feels a tear wet his cheek and it stuns him, he hadn’t felt it coming yet there it is. “Do I look happier without you?” he shoots back, closing the distance between the two of you. “I know I’m the one who told you to stay but I can’t…I can’t stand there and let you marry him. He doesn’t treat you like you deserve to be treated. He can’t love you the way that I love you.”

Pinned against the table, his body too solidly planted to move, there’s nowhere for you to run to escape the truth. He slips his arms around your waist, bringing you into his chest with little concern to the mascara threatening to stain his dress shirt. You let your head rest there and for a moment you can pretend that you’re somewhere else. Back at his apartment maybe, like all those times before, cuddled up against him on the couch talking about nothing as the hours melted away. You always felt so at peace there, so protected. 

“They’re almost ready for you, darling!” a voice rings out as the door swings back open. The two of you scatter in opposite directions, unable to face one of your bridesmaids as she hurries into the room. She stops dead in her tracks, unsure what she’s walked into but positive it’s nothing good. 

“Everything good in here?” she asks, digging for the truth where you wish she wouldn’t. 

“Everything’s fine” you swear, painting on that forced smile again, “He was just leaving. Isn’t that right, Hyunjin?” 

Hyunjin looks to you, unsure what to do. He can’t stay and fight for you, not in front of your bridesmaid, but what happens if he leaves? He has no choice but to see. “Yeah, I was just leaving, uh, good luck with everything.” 

Your head drops as he dips back out into the hallway, leaving you to pick up the pieces all on your own but you can’t be mad at him, not for that. This is as much of your mess to clean up as it is his, if not moreso. You wish you could go back in time and do things differently but you can’t change the past and you can’t change what’s coming. Outside of that door hundreds of people are waiting for you. Your fiance’s waiting for you. The time for wishing has passed. It’s too late. 

A city bus whips through the rain slicked streets, settling as it pulls up to the only bus stop for 15 minutes in either direction. Outside a small crowd of people forms a line, hidden under the cover of jackets or umbrellas. The weather mentioned a chance of light rain but it’s pouring hard enough to make an umbrella almost useless. The second the bus doors swing open they’re piling inside, rushing to pay their fare and escape the downpour. As they settle in their seats the bus driver readies himself to close the door and truck along to the next stop. 

“Wait!” you shout, bolting through the rain to catch him before he peels off. 

Luckily he stops, the sight of you likely being the highlight of his day. You’re standing in front of the bus stop in a wedding dress soaking wet with your heels in one hand and a small clutch in the other. You probably should’ve attempted to grab an umbrella, a jacket, something before you got here but when you’re darting out of a church on your wedding day you don’t particularly have time to raid the lost and found for survival supplies. 

Completely out of breath, you climb onto the bus, attempting to wedge your toes back into your slippery shoes. “I’m sorry for holding you up sir but where does this bus go?”

“What are you doing?” Hyunjin’s calls from somewhere in the distance. 

You peek off of the bus, spotting him not too far away. Your blood runs cold. If he knows where you are, who else does? There’s no time to find out. 

“Nevermind” you say to the bus driver, fishing your fare out of your purse. 

You pay for your ride and scurry to the back of the bus, flopping down into your seat. You’re in a panic, attempting to bring yourself down from the rush of anxiety that came from bolting the second your bridesmaid turned her head. It’s a difficult feat when all eyes are on you. You do your best to appear normal, play it off like any other day, but this isn’t any other day. Everyone can see that.

Their curiosity piques even more when Hyunjin hops on the bus, frantically paying before scanning the seats to find you. A sweet old lady points to the back and Hyunjin rushes towards you, heaving for air as he takes the seat beside you. The bus doors finally close, plodding down the street as the two of you sit at the back like two soggy Barbie dolls. 

Staring out of the window, you watch the world pass you by, finding an odd comfort in the growing space between you and that church. There’s something therapeutic about leaving that place and everyone in it behind. Well, almost everyone. You can’t bring yourself to look at Hyunjin but he’s looking at you. Only at you. He watches you without expectations. There’s no pressure to speak, not even to acknowledge him, he only cares that you’re here and that he’s with you. Placing a hand on your knee, he shifts his attention to his own window, zoning out as the cars whoosh past, splashing rain onto the windows. You sit like this for the rest of the ride, trapped in your own worlds and tethered to each other’s all at the same time.

Everyone else must be searching for you right now. It’s likely that at first no one thought much of it. Someone would’ve suggested that you hadn’t heard the cue or might have run to the bathroom at the last minute. They would’ve sent your bridesmaids to search for you and the groomsmen next. Before long everyone would be in a panic trying to find you. You wonder how long it must’ve taken for them to notice that Hyunjin was missing too. It’s possible that they haven’t even asked that question yet, in too much of a frenzy to find you to think of it but when they do… 

The bus comes to a sudden stop, bringing you back to earth where Hyunjin stands over you tugging at your hand. “Come on, this is our stop.” 

You ask no questions, allowing him to guide you off of the bus and out onto a street corner you slowly begin to recognize. The rain has let up to a light sprinkle, the fresh post rain air a welcome change to the stuffiness of the bus. Looking around you spot a familiar restaurant. It’s the same one you used to grab breakfast from before heading to Hyunjin’s in the morning. Across the street is the park he’d take you to for picnics where you’d sit listening to music while he sketched the landscape in his notebook. His place is only a couple of minutes from here, you could find it with your eyes closed, but you let him lead the way, flashing an awkward smile at strangers whose gazes linger on you along the way.

Hyunjin keeps his hand glued to yours the entire time, not letting it go even as you climb the stairs leading to his apartment. Circumstances aside, it feels nice to have your hand in his again. The sex between you was amazing, each time more memorable than the last, but that wasn’t what he missed the most when you were apart. It was warming your hand with his on a cold day or feeling your noses brush when you kissed. The tiny things people take for granted until they lose them. 

“Wait here” he says once you’re inside, disappearing down the hall and abandoning you to the silence of the living room. 

The place is exactly as you remembered it. The black tufted couch with the fluffy purple star plushie on it. That guitar propped up in the corner that he swore he’d play for you one day but never got the chance to. Bookcases lined with everything from his precious manga to paint stained art history books. Art supplies scattered across the coffee table, a vase of fresh sunflowers positioned at the center.

You’re taken in by all of the new paintings. They’re darker than what he used to make and you try not to linger too much on the reason why. Hyunjin emerges from one of the rooms with a bundle of towels tucked under his arm. He wastes no time making his way back to you, tossing one over your head before you can react. 

“Hyunjin” you giggle as he dries you off like a puppy he’s just given a bath. Your hair goes everywhere, the tiny flower clips throughout it clanking as they fall free and hit the oak wood floors. 

He can’t contain his own laughter at how cute you are with your nose scrunched up like that, your laughter filling these walls for the first time in what seems to be an eternity. “What? I’m helping.” 

“You call this helping?” you pout, snatching a towel and giving him the same treatment he gave you. 

“Ouch, you’re gonna snap my neck!” he whines, twisting free of you. He runs to the other side of the room and you chase after him, draping the towel over his head and wildly tossing his hair around with it. 

“What? I’m helping” you mock. 

Hyunjin grabs you by the wrists, holding you in place, but your fingers still wiggle against his scalp and it tickles. “Stop it” he whispers, bringing you in close enough to watch the pink tint of his cheeks deepen. He says it like a dare masquerading as a threat and you’ve never been a girl opposed to taking Hyunjin’s bait. 

“Or what?”

He turns your wrists loose, hands dropping down to cradle your face in his palms. The surprise of the contact makes your body tense but that only lasts for so long. In the blink of an eye you’re melting into his touch, a low hum of electricity buzzing through you from head to toe. Hyunjin takes a deep breath, staring into your eyes like he’s falling head first into your starry orbs. “I’m gonna kiss you now, okay?”

It’s not a question as much as it is a notice. His lips crash into yours, stealing the air from your lungs to fuel his. This isn’t this kiss you remember. It’s sweeter—deeper. Dripping with enough longing that you can taste it. Your hands traverse each other’s bodies like weary travelers in desperate search of home. A home that’s your fingertips pressed against his chest, tearing at the soaked material of his shirt. A home that’s his hands hungrily devouring your figure through your dress. You’re two planets colliding, every piece of one scattered throughout the other. Neither of you have ever wanted anything this badly. Nothing in this whole wide world. 

“Hyunjin, wait” you somehow manage with his tongue still swirling around yours. You pry your lips free, tempted by how dangerously close to his they remain. “Are we really doing this? Are we…”

“We’re doing this but only if you want it. Do you?” he says softly, tracing the zipper of your dress. 

Your body arches into him, a trail of fire left in the wake of his fingertips. “I do but first there’s something I need to do.” 

“Something like what?” he asks and you catch seeds of panic blooming on that handsome face. 

You pet his chest to soothe his worries, “Something I should’ve done a long time ago. I saw your car when we came in. Can I borrow it? Pretty please?”

Hyunjin studies your expression, doing his best to decipher exactly what’s going through your pretty little head. But he can’t say no to you, that’s never been a strength of his. Digging through his pockets, he finds his keys and holds them out to you, only to snatch them back at the last second. “Come back to me…for good this time.” With that he hands the keys over, stealing one more kiss before you head for the door. 

Stopping in the doorway, you turn back to steal another glance at him. “For the record there was never any competition. It was always you.”

Hyunjin quirks his head at you, grinning as he nibbles at his bottom lip. “And it was always you. Always will be.”

[writeouswriter]

Genuinely don't understand people who don't want to actually think about and analyze what they read or want to use AI to write their essays, gonna be honest, I'd kill to be writing an essay right now, I'm dying to be in an environment where actually being able to delve into and lay out my thoughts on a work would mean something, have some effect or actual outside accountability or reward in the form of further understanding through review and working toward a further tangible goal, like genuinely if you don't want to learn the subject material, why are you paying to take these courses, I mean, it's one thing to be a disillusioned high school student who feels forced into an assignment and wants the easy way out, which, don't be that guy, even if you're struggling, trying to work through and pinpoint why is better than just trying to ignore it, but it's another thing when like this is your life, this is what you chose to do, what you're working towards and you don't want to do it properly, like do you genuinely want to go through life without ever having a single fully formed thought float through your head again? I'm being real, are you so dependent on AI or things like that, you've conditioned yourself to literally be unable to think for yourself, form opinions, understand text or deeper meaning or anything, that's how things get bad EVERYWHERE, that's how you get a misinformed population of the blind leading the blind, easily susceptible people who can't understand why we shouldn't create the torment nexus or why the leopards eating faces party would eat their face, too, like, yes, I remember procrastinating assignments, yes the school system is flawed, it's focused too largely on memory and rigid structures and etc., but this isn't the solution, if anything it's only further deepening the already existing issues of only caring about tests and end results, but in the end, if you play into it, it's not the system that's failed you, it's common sense. You can be better, you can do better, work smarter not harder does not mean don't work at all, give yourself the benefit of the doubt, don't hold yourself back, let yourself be capable of discovering things even through struggling and making mistakes, let yourself be capable of being smart.

[pickyourpoisonandevolve]

Thanksgiving Drabble w/ the 141 + Black Reader

Notes/warnings: just a fluff piece from me. I don’t know how to do drabbles/imagines but I SURE DO enjoy reading them and I have a brain baby to birth. Idk if this is TOO specific for a drabble but reader is black/female/american. Because those things aren’t often represented in these! And also I can do what I want at the end of the day. Just… just walk with me here.

The military is an easy place to forget that your squadmates are real actual people with families and backgrounds, on account of the inherent assimilation. Not that it wasn’t needed, but you get so busy creating your own language and communication styles that I think being able to express cultural habits and likes get a little seldom.

All that to say, you and Gaz LOVE to cook together, as it makes you nostalgic for your respective families. And you’ll be damned if these Brits make you skip Thanksgiving. The rest met your enthusiasm with “fucking Americans” but Gaz thankfully was more than happy to join you in the prep, you both bonding in hatred for the same old shit from the base kitchen. But most of the base is gone so you lot have the kitchen and common room to yourself, and that means you and Gaz are making a FEAST.

Pulling greens, the dishes that take 6-8 hours to make, the shit talking, the hyper specific recipes that you bicker about, the music played. You both are IN IT, and Johnny, Simon and Price didn’t have anywhere else to be, and are more than happy to eat what you make. (As they aren’t the most talented cooks of the bunch) Sausage rolls and chip buttys a Thanksgiving does not make.

It tickles the other three to walk by occasionally, listening to you to just… talk. And vibe. About old experiences, moving in tandem, bitching occcasionally. It had a spooky parallel to how you all worked in the field, seamlessly in sync, but the juxtaposition of it being wholesome. You all got to live in a temporary bubble of normalcy and domesticism. Like a big weird family, you could forget you all killed people for a living.

Price had shit to do, so he did flybys through the day, but they increased in frequency as it went on, his smile growing each time. His little grinch heart growing, seeing his team get along. You tossed cookies at him, hoping to get a rise out of him, but all you were met with was a “thanks, love” and a wink. You made a mental note to do that at a frequency of everyday forever.

Soap didn’t want to miss anything (or feel left out) so he kept to his favorite things: “watching TV” aka TikToks and passively watching a show, interjecting in conversations and stealing food when no one was looking. (Everyone was looking and he was slapped and yelled at A LOT)

Ghost was just unfamiliar with this intimate of camaraderie. He stopped in occasionally for tea, which Gaz and you started making for him. You could see his little eye crinkles as you prepared his tea just like he liked it.

Gaz and you started singing together as you plated the meal on the kitchen island. The rest of the team was holding a flight pattern in the common area, pulled in like the smell lines in an old timey cartoon, scotch already prepped and poured. But there was a moment where you two got swept up in your comfortability, and started singing in earnest. (This song in particular) You two didn’t make it a habit of getting too relaxed in front of the others, big tough soldiers and all, so this was a rare, near nonexistent sight.

Better days comin' for sure

If this world were—

If it was up to me

I wouldn't give these nobodies no sympathy

I'd take away the pain, I'd give you everything

I just wanna see you win, wanna see

If this world were mine

The three on the couch looked back with open mouths and smiles as you carried on. Literal years you all have worked together, how did they not know you two sang, and HARMONIZED? Did you practice?

You noticed first, brought back to reality and almost dropping a dish. Scandalized! Embarassed! Blushing furiously! Gaz thankfully was impervious to their bullshit, and told them to fuck off and come eat. Typical soldiers, couldn’t sit down proper for anything, food included, so you all settled into conversation and a full meal standing around the island. Enjoying the bubble, enjoying the peace, enjoying the moment.

Johnny, Price and Simon graciously offered to do dishes and clean. (Leftovers for days!) And after a while, you all dispersed. Soap stole a half of a pie and was inbound on falling asleep with his pants unbuttoned on the couch. Ghost was tactically figuring out how to look aloof and fall asleep on Soaps shoulder. Gaz had family (and a lady, you suspected) to FaceTime and Price hung behind you on the way to the barracks. Before you made your good nights, he offered to share a new bottle of bourbon his Nan sent in his room. Super casual. No pressure. Maybe he could hear your pretty voice sing just for him this time.

(This Drabble is sponsored by holidays, KDots new album, and an excuse to flirt with Price. Happy Thanksgiving, Americans are all on native land, and fuck Columbus)

[yes-these-obsessions-are-healthy]

Veilguard gave us the reason why Solas, a man who seemed so distrustful of despots and tyrants, was yet so skeptical of an Inquisitor who hinted at sharing power.

It's because he had to deal with the oligarchy that was the Evanuris. The idea of 'sharing power' is naive and pointless to him if there is no one at the helm giving the final say because it either devolves into stalemates, or someone with the biggest personality comes to monopolize the power regardless, i.e. Elgar'nan. If there is to be power held by someone, Solas would prefer a single ruler who could lead with wisdom and prudence, who is able to listen and use their judgement to filter good and bad information (which is what Wisdom does), to preside as a referee or an overseer of sorts to make sure everything is in working order and to ensure everyone is playing nice to step in and correct only when it is needed.

This is why when he asks you what you will do in the aftermath of What Pride Had Wrought, he disapproves when you say "I will rely on our allies". Assuming he has faith in your abilities to lead, he disagrees with this sentiment. You have shown yourself capable of handling the power that has been given to you. To divvy up your power out of some reflexively good-natured desire for the sake of democracy would prove disastrous. The more cooks in the kitchen, the more different agendas and personalities that need to be juggled, the more discordant that the operation becomes because it is far easier for power to be effective when you have a single accountable, capable person who has the final say.

Not only that, but given the allies that the Inquisitor does pick up, it's a nice gesture that would be squandered on people who didn't have enough sense to put aside their differences and work together without being strong-armed or getting their asses saved. It's a tiny drop of ubermensch, "great man theory" tempered with "let's be absolutely real here. Why would you ruin a good thing you have going? Why switch up what's working? To avoid hurting peoples' feelings? To make them feel included? You're a good friend/ma'vhenan but please don't be stupid about this."

And then you have this banter between Solas and Vivienne

Solas is skirting around the fact he is an ancient elf (though of course he is not omniscient) but in his ideal state of the world he would be omniscient + immortal and would be the arbiter to punish wrong doers. He would not allow vigilantes this power because in this thought experiment he has the most sound judgment. Wisdom is dipping a bit into Pride here, Pride and the mind of a man who believes he has the wherewithal to judge a person fairly.

But then, ho ho, you get THIS banter with them

If there is anything Solas hates, it's naked ambition and overestimation of one's abilities (yes this is hypocritical). To Solas, Vivienne is undeserving of this political power she is casually dropping her interest in pursuing because from his perspective she has done nothing substantial to help mages. For Solas, helping mages would be securing their freedom and place in general society. For Vivienne, it's keeping them sequestered so they aren't hunted down by superstitious magic-fearing Andrastians and can be kept monitored for possible abominations. Solas sees Vivienne as someone who only wants power to play her little political games in court and become someone who is eminent and powerful for herself chiefly. If mages benefit, it is coincidental or an afterthought, or so he predicts for her.

He prefers blatant and honest declarations of activism, because then someone can be measured by their actions thereafter and graded based on how they've lived up to them. Vivienne going "Well others have failed, I could try my hand at it" pisses Solas off because it comes off as so flippant to him. He takes conversations about power and politics very seriously, as you can tell, and with his past it's understandable given how he had to fight millennia-long rebellion dealing with the Evanuris and then walked through how many dreams and memories of how many kingdoms and civilizations and villages and towns and cities crumbling because of power struggles and ill-fitted rulers seeking only the position while eschewing the responsibilities it came with.

[feroshgirlsims]

Chapter 7.3 - You Can't Go Home

As they filter off the train, the smell of iron gets further away and Akira finally begins to relax.

He asks her a ton of questions, partly because he's curious and partly because he wants to keep the focus off himself. Alice is in the middle of talking about her class when her body goes rigid.

Akira scans for a threat but comes up empty. Train stations are generally pretty clear of supernatural creatures, except low-level spellcasters and baby vampires at night. They aren’t much use when you can transportalate, turn into a bat, or run for miles in wolf form. And the fae avoid them altogether. 

“You good?” 

She flinches when he reaches for her hand. “I-I’m fine,” Her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Do you smoke? Weed, I mean, not cigarettes. I…I think I’m gonna smoke. Do you wanna come with me?”

“I thought you said you had to turn this assignment in,” he reminds her.

She stares across the platform, but he still can’t figure out what she’s looking at. 

“I’ll do it later. And you don’t have to come. That was weird of me to peer pressure you,” her laugh comes out high-pitched and wrong, “You're probably busy. I’m good. I’m gonna go. And you’ll go, and I’ll just see you later.”

She's babbling and her hands are shaking. There is no universe where he just leaves her like this.

“Yeah, I smoke," he takes her hand and leads her to the exit. "And I got time. No classes, remember?”

Akira has been to the Commons a few times (for creeper reasons), but he's never climbed the tower. The air is especially crisp, but Alice doesn't seem bothered by it.

Despite resisting earlier, he finds himself wishing she would extract some promise from him—some commitment to keep him tied to her. It's a terrible idea. He knows better. Akira has always been careful not to break one of the rules he’d learned by brute force.

“This is a shit weed,” he coughs.

“Hey!” Alice playfully points an accusatory finger, “I invite you to my secret perch and share my paltry stash, and you insult me?”

“You need a new dealer if this is your stash.”

“And a new bank account!” She laughs. “Try to chillax, my dude; you are working against the medicinal benefits.”

He tries. His lungs fill, but it takes three more rounds of coughing before he evens out. Alice, meanwhile, is a professional. She barely coughs, though she's had twice as much as him. He's not even sure she's high.

"Why photography?" he asks when she joins him on the bench.

"Most of the time, I get asked about painting; no one even thinks about photography."

He shrugs, "Your focus isn’t Fine Arts. Why am I gonna ask you about something you don’t do? You want me to guess?" When she nods, he waves a hand across the sky, pretending to paint a picture. "Art lets you remake the world in a more pleasing image, which is kind of nice because the world is shit. But you do photography because you want the shitty stuff upfront. No lies. You'd rather tango with the truth."

She straightens, suddenly alert. "Maybe. Kind of. But photography is also lies. All you do when you snap a picture is capture a moment in time. You can still tell yourself a story about the emotion you saw or what really happened. It's just a different kind of lie from painting."

The weed is definitely kicking in, but he likes her explanation.

"So what are you studying?" she asks.

Direct questions are the hardest to dodge. Especially now when he feels like he’s floating a hundred feet in the air. "I'm studying nothing," he says honestly. "I just follow what interests me."

"Why?"

"Because I have a lot of time." Infinite, actually, if he kept his head attached to his body and didn't end up on the wrong side of a curse.

"If I had time, that's what I'd do too. And catch up on back seasons of 7 Wild Dates."

Akira laughs, "Stop. I changed my mind. That show is moving to the bottom of my watch list."

“Don’t be mean!” Alice sticks out her tongue, "That's quality programming you're missing."

They smoke more and talk about nothing, which feels like talking about everything because Alice leaps from topic to topic. She knows a little about a vast number of subjects, like knowledge for her is a series of wading pools and she's just hopping from one body of water to another.

It's how Akira operates too. Once he gets the gist of something, he's ready to move on.

“Tell me one thing about you so you can stop accusing me of hanging out with a stranger," she says, "Where are you from?”

A flash of pink sky. 

A veil that never seems to part.

A home he can’t get back to.

The yearning is so real he jolts. “What if I told you that nothing about me or my life is what it seems? And because I don’t want to lie to you, you’re probably gonna find I won’t answer all your questions. Maybe any of them.”

Alice thinks for a minute. “I guess I’d say tell me what you can, not what you can’t.”

Akira wants to praise her wordplay. He wants to kiss her. He does neither.

“I love horror movies,” he confesses, “When I was like, 10, I snuck into the Moonlight Massacre Marathon at the theater downtown, and I was fuckin’ hooked.” 

The whole story comes tumbling out, even the part about Titania being a little shit and ratting him out to their parents. Alice laughs and complains about her step-sibling, and Akira viciously guards every drop of information she shares with him.

“I like horror movies too. If I throw in Moonlight Massacre II, will that elevate 7 Wild Dates on your watch list?”

His phone buzzes with a reminder about tonight’s job. He gets to his feet. “Next time,” he tells her.

“You promise?”

A promise is a dangerous thing. 

—A binding thing. 

A vow. 

No promises. 

Akira nods, “Yeah, I promise.”

PREV | NEXT

(Part 3 of 4)

[angeldcgs]

it had never taken much effort for lana to secure her conquests; never this much. even when she'd set her sights on much loftier targets than the sweaty jocks doused in old spice body spray that had pursued her all through school, none had ever refused her the way sully had, but somehow, it only made her want him more. now here was a truly good man— a loyal man, a good husband and father, the sort to defend his nanny's honor against a man he'd known much longer than her. that was the sort of man worth fighting for, if for nothing else than just to get a tiny taste of what a man like that could offer her sexually. of all his positive attributes, his capacity for respect was at odds with what she needed from him in the moment. she'd given him full permission to take what he wanted, practically daring him to refuse her, and yet he remained hesitant, simply staring at her exposed cunt in awe. his reverent utterance of agreement made her giggle again, teeth sinking into her lower lip to try and bite back the widening of her grin. as frustrating as it was to have to wait so long to be touched, she couldn't ignore how tantalizing it felt to have his attention on her in this way. surely he'd sent a lustful glance or two her way since her employment began, but this was a look of pure, unadulterated desire, and she could sense him continuing to battle his sense of morality. "don't be nervous, hun..." she cooed reassuringly. "it's just us... you can take me however you like." after all this, she didn't think he'd refuse her. it'd be a pretty boneheaded thing to do, considering he'd already be in the dog house for what they'd done so far. might as well go all the way, if they were as good as damned. "i'm yours tonight, mr. landry." finally, one of his hands began to travel, her stomach doing a flip in anticipation of finally being touched, only for it to end up merely squeezing her thigh. it may not have been the sort of touch she was after, but it was a start. as if to tempt him further, her fingers caressed back up her folds until she reached her clit, circling the sensitive bud with two soft fingertips and letting out a shuddered sigh in response. once he dove in, she let out an excited hum of anticipation, though once again, he subverted her expectations by pressing his nose into the crease of her thigh and inhaling. her brows furrowed briefly, but she didn't question him, instead continuing to rub her clit in slow circles, using her free hand to stroke through his hair gently. "mmm, thank you," she chuckled, now drunk off lust rather than the alcohol that was slowly but surely working its way out of her bloodstream. "you're not too bad yourself, handsome. anyone ever tell you that?" probably not enough, just like he wasn't being properly satisfied in the bedroom. as soon as she felt his hand move down to take over for her, lana let out a sigh of relief, hips shifting towards his touch until he slipped two fingers inside her with ease. they were met with no resistance as her plush walls parted to hug them in a snug embrace, lips parting to account for the fraught whine she uttered at the feeling. while she would prefer they spend all night exploring each others bodies as completely as possible, time simply wasn't on their side, and she'd already been yearning for the stretch of his cock inside her for weeks now, to the point where foreplay felt redundant. "it's ok, mr. landry, you don't gotta," she reassured him in a sugary murmur, reaching for the waistband of his pajama pants and pushing the front of them down along with his underwear so his cock could spring free. "i need you right now..."

laid out across the backseat of his car, caressing her curves and smiling impishly at him, lana looked just like one of the models in those old dirty magazines that sully kept hidden under his bed as a teenager. he should've known better than to fall for such overt seduction techniques but he wasn't thinking clearly, all that mattered in that moment was distracting himself from the guilt that was to inevitably come and instead touching lana like he'd been fantasying about for weeks upon weeks. there wasn't a lot of space to fit the both of them across the seats, especially not with what she seemed to have in mind but they could make it work, they had to as there wasn't any other options. with the object of his desires splayed out in front of him, sully was suddenly hit with the realisation that he didn't know what to do. he wasn't some teenage boy who had never known the touch of a woman before, he was a married man with children and a whole youth behind him filled with exploits, yet in that moment any of that experience might as well have been forgotten. he stared at her cunt with reverence, like it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. "christ." he muttered under his breath as he watched her spread herself open, her pretty pink folds glimmering with the evidence of her arousal and causing sully's mouth to water with the desire to lean down and taste her. he didn't though, he didn't move an inch. the hands that had helped roll up her dress rested on her waist, a touch so soft it was almost like it wasn't there at all. in response to her question, all he could do was nod, his eyes still fixated between her legs till he forced himself to look up and meet her gaze. "lana, i don't..." don't want this? don't know what to do? a million different versions of the end of that sentence flittered through his mind but he decided it was better left unfinished, allowing her to decide how to best respond. after all, she was the one who seemed to know what he needed, despite everything else about them that should've had him being the one in control, he was at the mercy of whatever she deemed was appropriate. he couldn't sit there forever, just staring at her body in awe. eventually, his hands twitched back to life and he slowly slid one down from her waist, settling on her thigh which he squeezed gently between his calloused fingers. her skin was impossibly soft, smooth as silk and like temptation itself. after a couple seconds squishing the meat of thigh, sully could no longer keep himself frozen in anticipation of what to do and relented. he hunched over her lower half and pressed his nose into that soft crease where her thigh and groin connected and took a long inhale, all while he continued to knead at her supple flesh like it were dough. it was hard to tell whether she smelt so good inherently or if it was because it'd been too long since he'd gotten to bury his face into a woman and indulge in such basic things as her scent but either way, it was bringing something feral out within him, a need to eat her whole. "you're beautiful." he mumbled once again after pulling his face back, just enough so he could turn and press a kiss to her wrist before gently moving back up. his wife was still asleep at home, completely unaware what was going on between her husband and nanny but that didn't mean sully didn't feel the pressure of the clock, they didn't have an infinite amount of time and they'd already spent a lot of it bickering over whether or not he was going to give in, he wanted to spend the rest of the night buried between her thighs till his entire face was soaked with the proof of her arousal but it wasn't possible. once he started, sully knew he wouldn't be able to stop and so he held himself back, instead choosing to replace lana's hand with his own, slipping two fingers through her glossy folds before tucking inside of her after a couple of leisurely passes.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

I'm curious, I like the way you characterize Satoru and that's why I wonder how he would react if the things he does and believes are best for you end up being the opposite? If his altruistic actions only end up hurting you worse than a selfish decision would have caused.

EXTREEEEEMELY TASTY QUESTION ANON :333c this is kinda what i mean when i say his selflessness spirals back into selfishness sometimes …………

like . using the vampire au as an example (a pretty extreme example but still): he believes living your life as a human is what’s best for you . he knows very well how lonely his existence is and he wouldn’t curse you into having to live it alongside him. but assuming you want to be turned this would obviously hurt you !!!! it’d hurt your feelings but beyond that it’d hurt because he won’t acknowledge your feelings. and i think something similar would happen in a slowburn with gojo in canon — he would distance himself from you, believing it to be the best choice for your happiness, but in doing that he’d hurt you.

he’s still doing something that in the long run might be best for you (and is best for you if we think abt the vamp scenario because god eternal life would be hellish), but it ends up causing you pain and i think he hates that. he won’t change his mind though…. gojo does stress personal autonomy, but he’s never going to curse you. i think that’s the line he draws

[3416]

Luke Fox are you ready to die. He literally did this shit last year with the whole Marner/Keefe situation that people STILL bring up and act like Mitch was actively strapping Keefe to a chair and waterboarding him until he agreed to 'walk back' comments about them not playing like elite players. And EVERY TIME people eat it up because they want to be angry, they want to live in their false narratives so they can seethe and rage about accountability

literally... it cracks me up that fans think players owe accountability to THEM. fklsdjfkldsjklf like girl you sit on your couch while they're out here trucking around the ice every other night for your entertainment and accuse them of not trying, lol.

luke fox and honestly all of the big toronto media guys KNOW mitch marner brings the most clicks out of sheer rage on twitter dot com so they do it every time. should not let myself be surprised but it's such sloppy fucking journalism to portray it that way every time. i even see people who i consider level headed eating it up without looking for context and i'm like. are you all genuinely stupid. seriously. don't even get me started on the Walking things back last year that was totally made up. if you watch mitch's interview from that day he's so ????? like does not comprehend what they're trying to accuse him of, it's so funny.

[apolloagain]

Chapter 40.

Damn. Okay. I have thoughts and feelings. Was glad the other day to see the author thanking someone for a comment that "gets it" because my hubris makes me think that I Get It and would so prove that if I had an ao4 account yet (and yeah it was a good comment lol). But this one has challenged me!

I felt my "indignant" levels go through the ROOF this chapter. We all knew that Sarah's suffocation plan wasn't going to work, but that made it quite easy to root for her attempt. So seeing that fail - and I don't know about anyone else, but that was my last stab at a suicide plan for her - and then the doctor's "Lucky you don't have a choice" after her very sincere but pragmatic speech that could not make her wishes clearer... damn, I mean, I felt the frustration. I really really did. Like some fucked up cousin of Kafka where the system is completely built to circumvent yourself despite your best efforts, except everyone won't STOP caring and "loving" you. Notice how I put loving in quotes? I've been enjoying living through Sarah vicariously, feeling her rage and humiliation but also enjoying it, being a step above as the horny dream-god-reader I am. But this time... well, sure, still doing that a little, maybe. But feeling Sarah's nightmare quiteeee a lot this time! I FELT felt that trapped rage and humiliation and it DIDNT feel good!

First of all, like said, the lead up really has made this a claustrophobic and aggravating place. But then the punishment... okay, damn, look, the spanking before was hot, but somewhat subdued. Even the degradation seemed to end very quickly. But this... wow, jesus fucking christ. Way beyond that. I mean, whipping her BACK???? That's fucked up! That's really visceral! Jesus!!! I'm not at all surprised to hear that every other instance has been under that threshold, but wow, yeah, this one... double the threshold... I can believe that too! Sure, sure, making her say "Yes Mistress" is hot and dommy and whatever, except honestly, the actual content of the punishment is such an upsetting change of pace that I can barely take that in.

This sounds a little like a criticism - it's nothing more than my honest reaction. In reading all of these chapters, I guess I make meta-fantasies. So here's the one I realised I was having for this one: I really wanted Sarah to not back down. The glorious human spirit, I don't care what you call it. I want her to keep saying how until she's been abused to a shocking point. I want Rose to realise what she's done in a savage-hypocrisy- in claiming to love her, instead inflicted real physical damage and torture and really, really hurt Sarah. I wanted the guilt to come crashing down on her, for her to try and say sorry but know nothing can help, for to realise that she took a massive gambit and it FAILED, Sarah WON, the bluff was called and Rose went above it and is a monster for it and Sarah still didn't back down even though she's asking to die and part of Rose really now can see why, which makes her want to as well.

This sounds like a pretty morbid and sadistic fantasy. It IS morbid, but it's not sadistic- again, Sarah being whipped on the back was honestly not nice for me. It's more a fantasy of childish self-pity, like a "They'll all be sorry about how I treated me" catharsis. I don't think I'm the only one who wants it, as you can see in the comments confidently projecting their "predictions" (see: not so subtle wants) saying that Rose will soon find out that torture doesn't work. Sorry guys, but I don't think it's going to NOT not work!

Most of my fantasies have been, sans Sarah submitting and loving the affini, kind of from Rose's desires- that is to say, it's taken delight in the adored cooing and embarassment of watching Sarah play pretend on screen, even though I think that I've experienced a lot of that fantasy THROUGH the placed-perspective of Sarah (urgh, there are literary terms for what I'm trying to distinguish here, but even if I could remember them it would be muddled by me being a messy switch lol). But what happens right after Rose's eyes are glowing then? Sarah poops the party with Facts and Logic, putting what she's doing both matter of factly - Hab wouldn't make her feel "self-conscious" - and presenting it as a bad thing Rose is doing that further proves that her narrative of "love" is self-serving and illegitimate. When she does this, Sarah has to fight holding back a smirk. That's HER bratty ol' fantasy, a self-satisfied rage against the machine that's not just calling them klats and being violent to herself/rude to them, but undermining their control, shaping the narrative her way, no, fuck you, I can condescend right back because this is a disgrace, I'm indignant, I'm RIGHT, this is NOT the story you think it is, fuck you, I hate you, die. That's a cathartic fantasy in and of itself. And I've indulged in that meta before reading this... but not much. Firstly, because from the title alone we know that it's a foregone conclusion. Secondly, because the other one is hotter lol. But thirdly... well, look at how I'm feeling indulging heavily in those emotions and narrative right now. I wanted Sarah's suicide to work! Beyond that, I wanted Rose to go overboard and harm Sarah ONLY so that she can feel bad about having done so. Undermining Rose's system by undermining Sarah. It's self harm, ultimately. Sorry Sarah, but the horrible truth is that your way of life leads to harm. It's too destructive a fantasy, ultimately helping no one.

And yet... and yet this chapter did still make my indignation levels go critical. And I think that despite looking forward very much to the next few chapters, I found this one less enjoyable than maybe I was meant to. Ifelt bad for Sarah man, I just did! Am I taking it too seriously? Am I getting too wrapped up? And YET And Yet... that comment that had the author saying they "definitely get it"? Well, I take comfort from it, because I think I really DO get it- because here's part of it:

Sarah has made a lot of really good points. It does make me hope that Sarah will be able to win some sort of victory. It won’t be a total win - a total win against the Affini is impossible. But some sort of concession or something. You know?

I do know. Apparently we'll be heading to the C Chapters soon, so I have little faith in Sarah holding out for some melodramatic shadow of what my righteous justice wants here- she'll be saying Yes Mistress eventually, progress will be achieved, and I imagine the next few chapters of her Actual Punishment are going to be a lot of fun again, hopefully in a more attractive way than how genuinely shocking the back whip thing was. But overall.... well. Like I said, there are two fantasies at play here, and I believe they both need satisfaction, and I believe Ms Floss (feel like that's a good way to distinguish between character and writer lol) knows that too. I think that by the end of this story, Sarah will be sprouting by some of her own terms as well. It wouldn't be right to have her whole heartedly become a Winston Smith without any rebellion meaning anything, because I wouldn't be able to love Big Brother myself. Sarah's fire will burn, the Affini leaves will catch it somewhat, and there'll be a small mutual respect and understanding for the girl who stoked it. Even if most of said relationship is built on her being the most adorable floret the world's ever seen, who can't believe they were ever so nasty and allergic to happiness and are sure to get teased and reminded by Rose for it.

A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down.

"Every Sophont is a Seed" is a really good HDG fic. Sarah rages like a force of nature, her resistance to the Affini is incredibly strong-willed and really feels like a proper fight (despite, you know, the inevitable). There's good reason for it too- to be THAT much of a fighter, you can't just be intelligent and stubborn, but genuinely, well, mentally unwell and destructive. The arc is going to be a long and richly deserved one.

Also it's hot, also it's regularly updated.

[licorishh]

Hey as a super introverted but not shy person I'd just like to say the jokes about extroverts "adopting" introverts to "get them out of their shell" are actually completely unfunny and it just goes to show how little respect a lot of y'all have for the fact that we genuinely don't want excessive social interaction and that y'all are forcing us to do something that brings us extreme physical and mental discomfort because you perceive our introversion as a failing rather than as purely a difference in personality.

We don't need your "help" to socialize. We're not children. We're simply not interested in spending every waking second of our lives talking to people and being talked at in return.

[star-mum]

had an argument with my sister on the ride home from my friend's :-:

[fnafawoundleftbleedingau]

...partially considering holding off on posting AWLB part 2 until I've got like, the whole thing written, and re-read/reworked in places fully.

[inazuma-fulgur]

I will also defend trans men here, I see vitriol about both just by different people.

Men, and women keeping proximity to men in media/political circles, target trans women for being predators and for mutilating themselves

Same for trans men actually, just by women and men keeping a proximity to those women. This one is a little weird though, because trans men post transition are predators and trans men pre transition are always victims who are tricked into mutilating themselves.

This isn't just on tv, this is stuff my neighbors and coworkers tell me. Austensibly, in my experience, cis women are negative towards trans men and largely neutral or positive towards trans women, whereass cis men are negative towards both

Non binary people don't even exist because they don't touch on the framework people use to understand themselves, so they can just be denied and don't require any arguments beyond "lmao silly"

[omgthatdress]

Sooooo ummmmmmm this is something that's probably going to piss a lot of people off, but I feel like I really need to say it.

If you get a message from an account claiming to be a Palestinian fundraiser, it is a bot. It is a scam. You need to report & delete the message and encourage others to do the same.

I know because I get messages on this account DAILY. I have a very high follower count and I'm pretty active and I interact with my followers a lot, and apparently that all adds up to one big bot magnet.

Bots following and messaging this account was a MASSIVE problem before Tumblr fixed its new account policies. I used to spend literally hours blocking and reporting the hundreds of bots that I would get following me each day.

I learned a lot about bots and how to identify them. The easiest way is with no avatar, "untitled" in the blog description (BTW if your avatar is still set to default PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD change it because you run a substantial risk of being accidentally blocked & reported as a bot).

One of the dead give aways of a bot was what I call "word salad" names. Three seemingly random words strung together making no sense, always adjective, adjective or noun, noun. If you reported a lot of these bots, you'd notice the same words kept showing up.

Nowadays, I am bombarded with fundraiser requests and sometimes, they don't even bother to hide the fact that they're a bot. The avatar is default, the blog title is "untitled," and the blog name is a classic randomly-generated word salad.

However MOST of the requests I get come from at least semi-legit looking accounts. There are pictures, a name, a story. Never mind that I've gotten that message three times from different accounts.

Sometimes, they claim to be vetted, but the whole vetting system essentially adds up to "trust me bro." There is no way of guaranteeing that this account isn't just lying about being vetted, claiming to be vetted by a false person, or are using the identity of a real Palestinian to scam people.

Previously, I've seen a lot of people getting attacked for raising questions about these fundraisers and getting attacked for being racist or for harming Palestinian families in danger, like Tumblr isn't a website famous for its scams and the words "The Arkh Project" "All or Nothing" or "Miss Officer and Mr. Truffles" mean nothing to you.

I personally have been scammed by people claiming to be charities on Tumblr before, specifically, The Leelah Project which used the name of a trans teenager who died by suicide to swindle people out of their money.

Luckily, there are actual, respected charities out there you can give money to if you want to help the cause:

Palestinian Children's Relief Fund

Palestine Red Crescent Society

United Nations Relief Works Agency

Islamic Relief

World Central Kitchen

Médecins Sans Frontièrs

One of the hardest things to accept about the situation in Palestine is that realistically, there is very little that your average outsider can do to change it. However, these large, well-respected and trustworthy charities are out there doing the hard work to keep people alive, and should be where the donation money is going

These scam bots feed on people's naïvety and need to believe that they are making a difference, and even worse, feed on the fear that by ignoring them, it somehow makes you a racist doing direct harm to a refugee family, when in fact they are using the suffering of Palestinians to take away money from those in need.

As far as fundraisers that don't send out random asks for donations, I honestly don't know. You'll have to do the work yourself and approach with much caution.

Be careful out there.

[benevolentvampire]

.