#they too will give it back to the community for everyone's benefit

[nhaneh]

funny thing is I don't really have any interest in hoarding knowledge or resources for myself in any way, I'm just bad at publishing stuff because I feel like that'd require a bit more stringent quality control than what I might expect of something made largely for my own use.

sometimes I think maybe I should set up something like a google drive or a git or something to just throw my personal- and work-in-progress stuff for people who are interested, but I dunno what limits for space or bandwidth or anything are like.

like I'm sure some people would possibly find the ColorSet unpacker python script useful?? It kinda sucks through and I want to make a better version of it and maybe one that could work as a standalone executable instead? and possibly a packer counterpart to the unpacker?? But also I keep thinking like "would this even be useful to anyone lmao??"

in theory you could probably make some kind of art program plugin that does all of this for you - even the bit with loading actual colorset information into layered colorset pairs, but I mean that's a lot of effort and I still largely use a 20+ year old version of Paint Shop Pro myself so...

[bacchuschucklefuck]

Riz has counted four casseroles this week alone. Five, if one goes by the method of cooking, but Yelen's scary when she's crossed, and calling her burek by its proper name is important to her, so Riz does her the courtesy and doesn't include it in his mental tally.

He holds the tupperware over his head to keep it out if the way as he takes careful steps over the piles of notes in his path. The dockman case just closed, relevant documentations handed over to relevant personnels, evidences dealt with as needed; all he has lying around now is just record of the process and traces of himself thinking through it. Unsurprisingly they still haven't invented a surface more convenient for people under five feet who like to pace to put pieces of paper on than the ground.

Actual records go into the case folder with the other documents. Anything else with at least one side still blank is going to the school kids in the block - they chew through an astounding amount of paper just learning arithmetic. The rest is for the recycling basket.

Later. It's his mandated lunch break right now.

Riz sits down in front of the corner file cabinet. In an office often overrun with papers and strings and sometimes even thumbtacks, he's never really managed to clutter up this exact square of surface like every other ones. Ever since the bottom drawer rattled for no discernible reason a day long past, his eyes have always just kinda decided to slide across the space without acknowledging it.

It's years out, now. Riz doesn't know why he thought it such a big deal anymore, back then. He wasn't scared, he doesn't think. Not anymore. Maybe just uncomfortable with the idea that certain things persist despite all efforts to change.

He opens the tupperware. Dame Carabelle's experiment greets him with enough spice in the aroma alone to knock out a small mammal. When he chopped the vegetables for this casserole he couldn't really imagine the eventual heft of it, evident even through just these few ladles' worth, maybe weighing heavier for being still warm. His folk eat more through the smell and the textures and the aftertastes than the taste itself. His folk's meal is really the cooking rather than the eating. The eating is the meal's end.

"Hey," he tells the file cabinet's bottom drawer. "Um."

It's the anniversary. Riz doesn't know the exact date of his dad's death; nobody currently alive does. He and Mom both use the date of the funeral, though as he moved out to Bastion and then got more directly involved with Interplanar he hasn't really been going to Dad's grave as much. Doesn't seem like very efficient use of his time, catching a train or borrowing a car or spending a whole spell slot on going somewhere he knows Dad isn't at. They're sorta coworkers now. They talk on and off every other week between missions. When he goes now, it's just to clean up the place, keeping the landmark tidy and respectable.

Without that work to mark the date he doesn't really know what it serves anymore. But he still remembers it. Still takes note, absently or not, when it comes around.

There's not really a good way to tell the drawer that. Riz looks for another way to start the... conversation, hopefully. The question at play, he'd guess, is why he's doing this. He's been pretty content ignoring all the rattlings and the knocks from inside and the times it sits slightly ajar without him ever opening it himself; hell, he still uses the three drawers on top of it. Space is fucking precious in Bastion.

Precious enough to finally fix this damn drawer so he gets his turn to use it? Riz asks himself. Is that what we're getting to? Then he dismisses the thought - he didn't manage to fix it the times he actually tried, let alone-- now. When he doesn't really care that much to.

That's probably a good place to start. "'s fine if you keep being in there, turns out," Riz says.

The lunch hours are quiet in the block, sleepy and bright with the brief window of sunlight that manages to break through roof overhangs and extended balconies and laundry lines and climbing vines. Riz's work isn't loud here (the loud parts happen away from his office, if everything goes right), but the fragment of early summer heat reflected in the steady warmth his meal still carries compels him to lower his voice even more. It makes the words feel intimate, in a way he's never been familiar with - if he says something he just says it. He doesn't whisper. If he gives his friends something, he gives it open-palm. He's found out, along the way, that people usually don't think of rituals and courtesies the way he does.

Small voice for a diminished monster. "You know why I think so?" Riz asks. "Because almost two decades ago you kidnapped me and almost killed me, and now you rattle a drawer in my office."

It doesn't sound as much like a taunt as Riz wanted it to; the drawer has made a lot of noises again this morning when he checked the calendar, and he was definitely annoyed at it. Now, though, facing it like this after cooking the whole morning with more grandparents and peers from the block than he can count on both hands to cater for a tenant union meeting, he thinks the annoyance has morphed. Changed shape.

It has the shades of something like pity. Riz is not prone to pity, and especially not at these kinda matters. It's slightly maddening that he coheres perfectly outside of this one spot. That he commands his spaces, except for a drawer.

He puts the tupperware onto the floor between himself and the cabinet. "I know we're aware it's the anniversary," he says at the drawer. "You do this every year. You make a ruckus every time I decide to go do my job instead of mooching off my friends' aircon, and every time I get an invitation to some stupid social thing I want to turn down, and every time one of the old people tries to introduce me to a child or a nibling, because being a bachelor over thirty is weird," he pinches the bridge of his nose. "I have three fucking jobs. I love doing my fucking jobs. I'm forcing funds into infrastructures. You're never leaving, are you."

The drawer vibrates lightly. It's a very, very mild acknowledgement, considering the history of reactions Riz has gotten from this thing. Riz thinks it's emanating joyous agreement, or satisfaction.

It only sharpens the pity. Riz doesn't like that, but it's how it is. That's, ultimately, the lesson he's been taught over and over and over again, just by existing as himself, turned every which way by space after space that don't see him eye-to-eye: it's not like he'd quit living over any of it. It's not like any of it can sand off these fundamental pieces of him.

He's outgrown a lot of things, he's found out. Again, and again, and again. A childhood home, a yearly trip, a monster.

"'s probably scary for you, huh?" He asks. "Because I left."

He thinks he hears joints creak that sound like you did. Probably the way a scorned lover would say it, in a movie or a yellowback. He has no more connection to the idea than he did as a kid. Less, because it doesn't even scare him.

"That's what it is, right? That it's the anniversary, and I'll never be like Dad." He raises a knee from the floor, pulls it back closer to him. Slings an arm over it. "You love to remind me. The thing is, Dad also left. He loved Mom and he loved me, and none of us wanted it to happen, but it still did. Because love does fuckall to make anyone stay on its own."

He's long past being bitter about it. It's just the facts. Once upon a time he looked into the future and the specter of his friends' happily-ever-after casted lightless, fathomless shadow over him. Love, marriage, that kind of devotion, to a fifteen-year-old with more solved cases than friends seemed so eternal. Final.

But you can only watch your friends build up apps' worth of jilted lovers for so long before getting over it.

"You know what I learned?" Riz tells the drawer. "Love doesn't make anyone stay. Project management does."

He stands up, and picks up the tupperware of Dame Carabelle's casserole, that he helped make, that he helped share with a block's worth of neighbors and members of a community he's at home with, and goes sit at his desk to eat. "Last chance to get any," he drops an offer over his shoulder as he walks away.

He doesn't eat all of his share in one go. What he's spared he leaves on the desk when going outside for a smoke break. Baron looks the exact same as when he saw them last, when he catches a glimpse; they haven't grown at all. They aren't there when he comes back inside, but the leftover has gone days-old cold, like someone's sucked the future out of it.

[bookwyrminspiration]

quil. how much art did you have in your drafts.

there's actually still two left, but those are empires pieces and I'm not active in empiresblr so they can sit a little longer.

But! I like to leave long tags on everything I reblog (because I love reading tags, so I want to give that experience to the op) and I don't always have the time/energy to do that when I see cool art, so I just stockpile it in my drafts to be tagged and compliment and unleashed on the world when I do have the time/energy!

I don't reblog nearly as much art as I'd like to, so this is a newer method that I'm trying out :). We'll see if it's up to my standards!

[synthetic-sonata]

really awesome day to think everythings going alright and then you wake up and get hit in the face twice in a row

[hkthatgffan]

Hey, Kiki-Kit. Your customers are waiting!

Well, this is a painful post to make given the respect and admiration I had for her, but a long overdue one because I'm not alone in this mess and I refuse to let another fan fall for it when I could've said something!

Back in February, I bought a commission from Kiki-Kit. You may know that artist as she was one of the best in the Gravity Falls fandom back in the day and the illustrator of Don't Dimension It in Lost Legends.

She'd been running emergency commissions at the start of the year and I got one from her for $40 USD.

I have the invoice and everything saved and also messages with Kiki of us talking about the comm and me paying her. I owe nothing on my end money wise! I paid in full.

She said later she'd have them finished by around the end of March but come late April, still no response. So, I messaged her about it. Nothing odd I thought. I get things can happen and if Kiki is busy, at most she'd reply telling me it'll be a while longer and all's good.

But I got nothing. I messaged her, emailed her on the commissions email she had and tweeted at her. NOTHING! Turns out there were other people, including some friends of mine who had not heard back either. Then in June, Kiki made an update post explaining the situation.

Naturally I felt bad and wished her the best. She said iirc, she'd have the remaining comms done by the end of the Summer but here we are at the end of October and still nothing. I messaged her too again and no response.

You know, it's one thing if there's a reason for no response for a few days but then another when it's been months and still nothing. Oh and btw, I very much remember Kiki on Twitter liking tweets (back when Twitter let you see liked tweets) while I was there messaging her for an update. Real sus if you ask me.

But okay, I shouldn't rush it. Everyone has reasons to take time and maybe Kiki is just very busy and can't get back. She went through a very rough and difficult experience and I can understand and respect that. I'm more than happy to wait. But how long is too long without an update? Maybe a bit longer I guess. Art takes time.

Well, IDK about you all, but I don't remember any other Gravity Falls fan artist taking oh, idk...FIVE YEARS TO FINISH A COMMISION AND STILL NOT RESPOND!!

FoxieSkullzArtz on Twitter made me aware she has been waiting since 2019 for Kiki to respond to a commission they paid her for.

2019!!

I'm not an artist, so forgive me if I'm wrong. But I don't think it should take any artist 5 years to make a commission and even if, at least communicate with the person who paid you about it so they're not left guessing.

Oh, and it gets worse. I got another person who let me know they've been waiting since 2020 for a comm and Kiki handled it far worse!

Oh yeah, she blocked them for asking about it!

And okay, even if we give Kiki-Kit the benefit of the doubt and assume she has reasons to not communicate with people and maybe even assume people messaging her are being mean about it, then why not refund them? Nice or bad, you were paid by them to do something but also have the power to deny it and refund their money. And yet, Kiki did not even do that. And even if we be super kind and assume everyone is lying, I'm still here.

I paid Kiki-Kit $40USD for a comm I thought I would get in late March and it's now late October and still nothing. And even if you don't wanna believe me cause you can't believe an artist like Kiki-Kit would do this and assume I'm after clout (which would be odd, given why would I take pleasure in calling out an artist I respected)...well, there's gonna be someone else who says this too. And people have been saying this for years and she still is getting away with it!

It's disappointing honestly. Kiki-Kit is a name so many in this fandom know and love. And I love her art too. She's a fan artist who got to be on Lost Legends. We all celebrated that in 2018 and still remember it. And I know how hard it may be to hear this, but it has to be said.

I do not like having to do this, but I have a platform that can get this message across further than others could and having been someone who lost money to her too, I know first hand what all these people have been through.

And before you say "Kiki was going through a rough time in her life. Why are you blaming her? Be patient and she'll get your stupid art done," read over everything again. I'm not saying Kiki-Kit needs to be making art 24/7 and fulfilling these comms. I'm not saying she isn't allowed to be offline and not finish things on time for reasons out of her control. What I'm saying is that she hasn't communicated properly with anyone here who paid her and has continued to accept more and more commissions from people despite not finishing ones she has backlogs of.

When an artist opens commissions, why do you think they have slots or only accept a few? Because they know they can get that many done in a certain time or know anymore will take longer. And even if it took longer, at least they give updates. I bought a commission for the interview with Alex Hirsch and got it both on time and with proper communication from the artist.

And even if you disagree with all this, be honest with yourself...is making someone wait since 2019 or 2020 for a comm and not responding to them really something still worth defending?

I'm not here to cancel anyone. I don't want Kiki-Kit's reputation to be that of an scammer who stole money from people. But she's painted herself that way to far too many people who have been warning about this for ages but no one either saw or listened to them.

I tried to be nice and messaged Kiki-Kit over and over for an update and she never responded. I had friends who she took money from who similarly have not heard anything back! If you know Kiki directly, tell her to reach out to these people and all the ones she has taken money from and not gotten back to and either refund them or commit to finishing their commissions. Please don't be rude or hostile either though, given despite it all, she is still a person like your or me who deserves a chance to make things right.

I wanna believe Kiki-Kit has just made some negligent mistakes and isn't the best with time management or communication. I mean, I'm not the best either. But I'm not asking people for money for something and then not getting back to them with it. I'm sorry to everyone who is learning about this who saw Kiki in a positive light and I'm sorry also to everyone like me who lost money to her.

I hope if nothing else, Kiki will respond and make whole everyone she has taken money from. If she really cares about this fandom that put her on a pedestal high enough that Alex Hirsch himself picked her to work on his book, she can respond to us and fulfill what we paid her to do.

I'm not asking for my commission to be done tomorrow...I just want an update. That's all. We all do! No more stalling, @kiki-kit. Please respond to us now!

Sincerely,

Every person who has paid you for a commission and has yet to hear back from you and every Gravity Falls fan who your work inspired and are now having to learn this about you!

[familyvideostevie]

all of it still matters

joel miller x fem!reader | 2.4k

you get sick and, much to joel's chagrin, refuse to take it easy.

jackson!joel, fem!reader, fluff, fainting, ellie and her dog that i invented for some reason, kind of plotless but who cares! it's all about love in the end, anyway.

a/n: welcome back to our lovebirds from just and just as. be gentle, please. it's been a while.

--

The sky is a brilliant orange. Golden hour, they used to call it.

It's probably a little too cold to be sitting on the front porch but you can't help it on an evening like this. You tug a fraying flannel of Joel's tighter around your shoulders. It's worn at the elbows and he reminds you that he'll fix it if you release it from your clutches but somehow that never happens. The journal he made you is open on your lap, almost full. You've taken care to write down not only your memories but the stories he and Tommy tell about their lives before, the day-to-day of Jackson, the jokes Ellie is particularly proud of. She recently recounted a birthday trip to a museum, laughing as she told you about pushing Joel into the water.

You take a sip of your pine tea. It's chilly through the whole day, now, and soon the morning frost will be snow. Winter was hard for a long, long time, but now it's comfortable. It means lights up in town, children throwing snowballs, community meals and dances. It means warm nights under your blankets with the furnace of a man you sleep next to, soft salve on chapped hands, a slowing down of the Infected sightings.

And it means Joel chopping wood. He should be doing it in the back yard -- usually does -- but this evening he's finishing up the trunk pieces Jesse left by the steps. A big tree had gone down at the edge of the town clearing and everyone got a few pieces once they'd split it up. Joel will no doubt give Ellie at least half of what he cuts.

The benefit of him doing it out front is you get to watch. His back is to you, but you can see the way his sleeves are rolled up, the damp hair curling over the collar. The exhale when he brings the axe down, the flex of his shoulder blades when he tugs it free of the stump. You could watch him do anything.

As if hearing your train of thought, Joel wedges the axe in the chopping block and turns to face you. He runs a hand through his hair, silver strands catching the orange light, and huffs.

"Enjoyin' yourself?" he says.

You grin at him. "I'd say so."

Two things happen at once. A headache blooms without warning at your temple, sharp enough that you wince and press your fingertips to the skin there. Joel notices and takes a step towards you but then a dog barks and his attention is drawn down the street.

"Naledi!" Ellie yells, jogging up the street after her dog. "Come on, we've talked about this!"

Joel glances back at you but you smile at him, ignoring the blooming pain in your skull. Naledi -- named after one of those characters from Ellie's comics -- runs right up to Joel and noses at his knee until he pets her. The animal loves him. You don't blame her.

"Jesus," Ellie says once she reaches the steps up to the house, panting. "She can run." She looks at the yard and scowls. "Aw, shit, Joel. Did you finish all the wood?"

Joel, one hand scratching behind Naledi's ears, levels her with an unimpressed look.

"Ain't gonna chop itself," he drawls. "Last thing we need is you holdin' an axe."

"Rude," she gasps. "You steal my dog and make fun of me. Are you hearing this?"

Ellie looks at you in mock outrage, cheeks pink from the cold. She's not a teenager anymore, but falls back into it so easily when Joel teases her. It's a treat to witness.

"I don't know, Joel, you've seen her --" You stand in the middle of your sentence and the words stop coming because your vision swims. Black spots dance across the yard and you pitch forward to brace yourself on the railing.

"Oh, fuck," Ellie says. Joel is up the porch and next to you in a blink, arm around your waist to steady you.

"You okay?" he asks, low and serious.

The spots disappear and you take some deep breaths. "I -- stood up too fast, I think."

Joel remains in your space for a few more seconds. Naledi barks, watching the whole thing with a tilted head from the grass below.

"Ellie," Joel says. "You wanna finish up the wood? I think we're gonna go inside."

"Totally," she replies. "Yeah, uh, go lie down, or something. We've got this."

Joel ushers you into the house and sits you down in the kitchen. The sun no longer peaks over the mountains so he flicks on the overhead lights, which make you groan. He's back by your side immediately, tipping your head up with a knuckle on your chin so he can look at you.

"Think you might've caught somethin'," he says. "Bout that time of year." He presses the back of his hand to your forehead and frowns.

You circle his wrist and tug his hand down. "Just tired," you say. "The overnight patrol is catching up with me."

"Hmm." Joel leaves you be and starts to fix you something to eat. You know better than to argue and, frankly, you don't have the energy to make something yourself. He sets some buttered toast in front of you and leans on the island to watch you take a small bite.

"Something to say?" you manage through a mouthful of bread.

He shrugs. "You should go to bed early." It's barely sunset but it sounds like a good idea. "You going to be okay to work tomorrow?"

Your shift at the stables with Ellie. Pretty easy, as far as labor goes. A good night's sleep should make it bearable. "Yeah, it's just mucking stalls."

"Hmm," he says again. You know what that means -- he's thinking, he's decided, he's preparing, but he'll let you reach the same conclusion in your own time. He won't force you into anything, never does, but he most certainly has an opinion.

You change the subject. "Did you grab my journal?" Joel nods and pulls it from his back pocket to set on the table next to your toast. You take another bite to appease him.

"Almost done with that thing," he says. "Gonna need another one."

"If only I knew someone who made them," you tease. That gets a gruff laugh out of him.

"What you writin' about today?"

"You, Tommy, and motorcycles." Tommy had told you all about the famed birthday ride at the last family dinner. Everyone had heard the story but you, so their voices overlapped about a hundred times as they fought to be the one to explain.

Joel chuckles. "You ever been on one?"

You take one more bite of your toast and push the plate away. He's on it in a second, taking it over to the sink.

"No," you reply. "I don't even know the last time I saw a working one. Just stripped metal out in the wild."

"Think you'd like it," he says. "Good way to see things. Bit of an adrenaline rush."

"Yeah, because there's a shortage of that these days."

The joke falls flat and your eyelids start to droop so you don't see Joel's reaction anyway. Your head throbs.

"Bed," Joel says, softly. Hands on your shoulders, rubbing up and down your arms. "C'mon."

He ushers you up, hand on your back on the staircase. He waits while you brush your teeth and helps you into an old shirt and threadbare pants with a gentle touch.

When you're settled under the covers he perches on the edge of the bed and lays his hand on your forehead once again. A frown makes its way back onto his face and he checks your cheeks, your neck.

"I'm just tired, Joel," you mumble. "It's alright."

"Hmm." He kisses the inside of your wrist lightly and stands. "Gonna go check on Ellie, alright? I'll be back soon."

You fight to keep your eyes open and fail.

__

You feel like shit in the morning. Your head is pounding, your body aching. But you've had worse -- you've had broken bones and bruised ribs. You've been sick, you've been tired, you've been scared. This is nothing compared to life and death. You can muck a few stalls with a headache.

Joel isn't here -- a note on the counter says he got called to fix someone's sink and that he thinks you should stay home. You ignore it and head to the stables, taking deep breaths and walking slow.

Ellie shows up not long after you arrive and finds you leaning on your pitchfork in one of the stalls. Your stomach is churning but you're upright, still.

"You look like shit," she says.

"Thanks, kid," you grumble. "Where's your dog?"

"Dina's taking her on the trails today." They've been training Naledi to smell and track Infected.

You sway a little and make some noise of assent.

"Dude, are you sure you should be here today?"

If you leave now, she'll have to do the stalls herself. "I -- let me do a few more. I'm fine. It's alright."

She gives you a look she almost certainly learned from Joel but doesn't argue.

You are fine...for a little while. Ellie seems content to let you work in silence but you feel her eyes on you as you shovel shit and old hay. Just one more, you tell yourself. Then you'll go home and lie down. One more turns into two turns into three until you're scooping a big pile of straw and the spots dance across your vision again.

"Oh," you say with a gasp, and reach out for the wall, for something, anything to lean on. But your hand finds only air and then you're tipping, tipping, and you hear Ellie's Oh shit! and then --

Nothing.

No, I caught her before her head hit the ground. Are you on your back? Wait til she wakes to move her. Sounds like Esther. God, it smells like shit in here. Someone's hand on your forehead. He's coming --

You blink a few times and the roof of the barn comes into view. A groan makes its way up your throat without permission.

"Fuck," you say. "What --"

"Jesus," Ellie exhales. She's on her knees on one side of you, tugging at her fingers. "God, why did you come to work today?"

"I--"

"Where is she?" Joel's voice echoes through the barn and you try to get up on your elbows when you see him. The sudden movement makes your head pound again and hands on your shoulders help steady you. You're blinking into Joel's face, his creased brow and frown deepening as he kneels next to you.

A warm, weathered palm cups your cheek and his gaze catalogs the scene. He does this a lot -- takes in as many details as he can and makes a quick choice on how to proceed. It's a well-honed ability, one that's kept him alive this long. It's kept you and Ellie alive, and countless others in his company, too. Knowing how bad something is, and whether or not you can fix it.

He huffs, some of the tension melting from his face. "Just tired my ass," he mutters. "How're you feelin'?"

"Guess I fainted," you say weakly.

Ellie snorts. "No shit."

"Guess so," Joel echoes. "You wanna get up?" You nod. He does most of the work, arm around your waist as you stand and sway and end up tucked into his side.

"Surprised your knees work this well," you mutter. He makes a low noise in his throat and squeezes your side but otherwise ignores you.

"Think we're gonna go home, if that's alright," he says. You realize the crowd is a little bigger than you thought. Ellie, Esther, and some of the younger boys who work the horses stand nearby. Your head pounds too much for you to be properly embarrassed. You'll have to thank Ellie later for keeping an eye on you but for now, you let Joel lead you out of the stables without waiting for a reply.

Joel walks you home slowly.

"Did someone come get you?" you murmur. He nods.

"Kid said you fainted," he says. "I see you ignored my suggestion this mornin'."

"Yeah, but if I stayed in bed you wouldn't get to be a knight in shining armor."

There is a small voice in the back of your head that reminds you how bad it can be to be sick in this world. You've all seen it -- sickness takes a few people every year, a handful in bad ones. This is probably just the flu. You know that and Joel knows that. And even that can be dangerous, but you're here with the one man in the world who could defeat pretty much anything. Joel, who will keep you safe, who will see you through it. You really, truly believe that. And you want him to believe it, too.

"How polite of you," he says.

Your boot catches on the ground and you stumble a little. Joel slows you to a stop.

"I'm fine," you remind him. "Just sick, I guess." He huffs but you start walking again. "You really looked worried back there, you know."

"Yeah, well." You reach the stairs up to your house. He tightens his hold on you, practically taking all of your weight as you go up them one at a time. "Was worried you fell into some horse shit. Smell up the whole damn house."

That gets a laugh out of you. He gets you up the porch, across the threshold.

"You gonna listen to me this time?" he asks, sitting you down on the entryway bench. "Stay home, rest up?"

"I'll think about it," you sigh. "You gonna take care of me, Dr. Miller?"

He kneels in front of you to take off your boots and smirks. How many times have you done this? Peeling off each other's boots after a long day. When one of you is sick, when one of you is hurt. Your head is pounding and you almost certainly have a fever but Joel's gentle hands and familiar smirk sets you at ease. You're going to be doing this forever.

"C'mon," he says. "You know I'll take care of you."

He tucks your boots under the bench and puts his palms on your thighs. You lean forward to kiss him and miss by a mile, lips landing at the corner of his mouth.

"My head hurts," you say against his cheek. "I love you."

Joel sighs. "I know, baby," he murmurs. "I got you."

He does.

[icanseethefuture333]

18+ PAC: Who wants to slide down your chimney? 🎅🏼🍪🥛

A very nonsense Christmas collab with @icyg4l ❤️🎄🎁 happy holidays everyone!

Pile 1:

Shufflemancy -

In & Out by Red Velvet

Stay The Night by The Internet

Sex With Me by Rihanna

Seven of Pentacles, Ace of Cups, The Empress, Sing, Drink Tea, Soulmate, & Fun Times

Howdy, pile 1 🤠! It’s giving: “I’m working late ‘cus I’m a singer~🎤” there’s something about needing to warm up your throat 👀☕️? Oh my 🤭 this person really wants to hear your voice. Maybe you and this person meet during karaoke. I’m getting that they are also very vocal in the bedroom and wants to voice their needs and wants. I’m getting a “wife pleaser” so something about being in a tank top and boxers or pajamas. This person loves seeing you dress casually or being comfortable. They also adore your bare face or admire how your face looks with no makeup. Your sp could be considered grounded and attentive, they are in tuned with their emotions. They could know how to please the opposite sex and are in touch with their feminine side (especially if it’s someone with masculine energy). I’m seeing that they want to rub you through your panties/briefs 🫠, pushing it to the side as they rub your knit🧶/play with your snowballs ☃️. If you came, they would lick and/or suck their fingers. Admiring your taste and smell. They really enjoy having fun with you, pile 1! Perhaps this is a coworker or someone you’ll meet in a bar. They are charming and have a suave way about how they carry themselves. Confident but not cocky. This person will want to buy you a drink or offer to take you out on a date. I’m even seeing you having a little too much eggnog. You guys might even have public sex or have sex in the bathroom?! 😅 yeah y’all are definitely going on Santa’s naughty list😈

Pile 2:

Shufflemancy -

Lay You Down by Jimmy Brown

we fell in love in october by girl in red

HOT TO GO! by Chappell Roan

Knight of Wands, The Emperor, Queen of Pentacles, Burning Bowl Ritual, Massage, True Love, & Friendship

Cheers, pile 2 🥂! You may have felt drawn to pile 1 as well, I recommend that you read both! Anyways, I’m seeing romance and lust blossoming possibly between the same sex. You could be a part of the LGBTQ community or perhaps you are friends with people who are queer. You seem to be open minded and eager to try new experiences. I believe that you are someone who is level headed and capable of taking care of themselves. Responsible but also down to party. Your friends greatly appreciate you! I’m seeing you meeting this person at a club or a crowded holiday party. For some of you this will be a dinner party. This person will be eyeing you from across the room and will come over to speak you, you might feel nervous around this person because there is a mutual attraction that you don’t experience too often. You guys will spend the entire night talking and one or the other will invite them back to their place. “Chestnuts roasting by an open fire~” 🪵🔥. You and this person could have sex on the couch or by the fireplace. You will take charge of them and ride on top. The sex could be slow but get progressively harder and faster 🥵. I feel that you needed this more than this person does lol but they will love being at your mercy. Perhaps it’s been a long time since you had sex or a good orgasm, this person will provide just that. I’m seeing you roaming your hands over their body and massaging, grabbing, or groping at their flesh. This person will have a firm grip on your hips and would graze their fingers over your thighs. I believe for some of you this is a friend or an acquaintance, which could develop into something more overtime but for now will be a friends with benefits situation.

Pile 3:

Shufflemancy -

Sin City by Chrishan

Gentleman by KISS OF LIFE

Q U E V A S H A C E R H O Y? by Omar Courtz, De La Rose

Nine of Cups, Ace of Swords, The High Priestess, Chanting, Flow Like Water, Gifts, & Union

Have a ho ho ho-lly jolly Christmas, pile 3 👠! I have a strong feeling you might hook up with a fratboy or sorority girl. If they aren’t in a frat/sorority, then something about this person just gives that vibe. They could be pretty popular and attractive, so they are used to getting what they want. You might not care about this person at all but know you could gain something from them by hanging out with them. You could also just see them as hot but maybe lack total trust in them. They might come off as a typical “fuckboy/girl” to you, so you’re not entirely giving your heart to them, just wanting to enjoy the sleigh ride 🦌🛷 . Something about food play as well? Strawberries, whip creams, or popsicles. They really like your lips so lots of passionate kissing or they want to receive head from you. They can be pretty cocky in the bedroom and once you guys start undressing your clothes, they will immediately smile once they see your body. You could be a brat and this person is a brat tamer. You will brush them off when they tease you and be like “whatever your dick isn’t even that big🙄”. You could also wear cute lingerie or your sp will want to keep it for themselves as a souvenir 😋. I feel like the sex would be raw or there won’t be any condoms (crazy work💀) or someone is on birth control at least. This person really likes your ass so I’m getting spankings and 🥛🥧. I feel like it would be so loooooud omg 😭 this person will have you chanting their name or I’m getting lots of “ooo yes!” and moaning. Some of you in this pile speak a foreign language, Spanish specifically - “si papi”. “I said the neighbors know my name they way you screamin scratchin yellin” Rip to your neighbors smh🫠

Pile 4:

Shufflemancy -

The Body by Wale ft. Jeremiah

A Seat by Arin Ray

2 hands by Tate McRae

Queen of Swords, Ten of Cups, Justice, Dance, Movement, Mature, & Children

Seasons greetings, pile 4 🌠! This person wants to be “Body to body, cheek to cheek🎶” they want your bodies dancing together between the sheets. Your sp appreciates closeness and wishes to be physically intimate. With this person, they are logical, decisive, and upfront. They value family and honor trust. They could be older than you or have a more traditional perspective on love. For some of you, someone has gray hairs developing (either you or them)🎅🏼. They might have children already as well. Perhaps they are divorced or have had children with former partners? It could also mean your sp is well established in their career and is wishing to settle. If you are already in a relationship with this person, then they could want to make love and have a baby over the holidays 🤰🫃. I’m seeing it would be just you guys alone for Christmas, enjoying a nice glass of wine or champagne. You and your person could be listening to music and will dance to slow jams and then it will progress into something more. Kissing and tearing each other’s clothes off as you stumble towards to the bedroom. “I saw Santa kissing mommy”!? If some of you have children and this isn’t their parent, I suggest you make sure your kids are asleep before kissing this person, they might snoop and be nosy 🤣. I’m seeing you mostly laying on your back or stomach during the act, switching positions from missionary to downward dog. This person wants to fuck with intention✨, by going deep and slow. Their goal is to make sure you climax and get to feel the pleasure you always give them. They are big on giving and receiving. I see this person even running a bath with rose petals or giving you massage afterwards, providing you with aftercare. What a heartwarming moment 💕

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: tyler owens x gn reader

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.39k | part 2

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: not communicating and not talking about your feelings (not miscommunication since you don't even communicate)

☾⋆☆⋆☽

There's too many beds.

The one night where you guys don't manage to make it to a motel, there's too many damn beds.

The camper van can fit pretty much all of you at once, not that the seven of you will do that anyway. Dani and Dexter have claim on it, as the drivers, and will probably accept two more comfortably.

In Lilly's van there's the backseat and the floor, but if we're counting, for how many beds there are by technicality, the two front seats as well.

You always have tents and sleeping bags around too, just in case you guys can't drive everyone from any recently unfortunate communities to the nearest hotel (although you'd certainly try). To give a rough estimate, about a dozen tents?

Then there's Tyler's truck, the two front seats and the back seat, and the truck bed. It's a bit short, but it can fit plenty people curled up.

So what to choose?

You should probably stay in a car. Much more heat that way, but who's gonna take you in? The designated drivers obviously prefer their own cars, so... Dexter's campervan is pretty spacious? Then again, so's Lilly's, and to be honest she's more of a vibe than the other two, but also why would you need vibes if you're just sleeping?

Maybe you should start a fire, huddle around that? No, that's a hazard, nevermind the fact you only know how to start a fire in theory.

Let's stick to a car, then. Lilly or Dex & Dan for space... Lilly, sure, why not?

As you start heading over to Lilly's van, you hear a sharp whistle. You don't have time to wonder who it's from, as Tyler spins you around.

"You're coming with me." He proclaims, taking you by the shoulders, and you can only laugh.

"Why me?"

Tyler grins, walking you unceremoniously towards his truck bed. "Because you're you, dove." That alone sounds rather intimate, so he fixes his mistake quickly. You're just friends, after all. "And Boone kicks people in his sleep, Lilly's hair gets everywhere, Dani steals the blankets, Dexter snores, and Ben...it's pitiful how he squeezes himself into the corner whenever he's sleeping next to someone, so we always give him his own space."

Right, all good points you'd forgotten.

"So why exactly am I better?" You tease, stopping in your tracks so Tyler bumps into your back and stay close.

"You're warm." And at first it seems like that's the only thing he'll say, your only benefit, as he pauses; but then the rest comes spilling out like a toad strangler. "You're also soft, you don't steal the blanket, you don't complain when I suddenly start talking and you don't snore."

Tyler doesn't mention that the two of you cuddle when you bunk together, and that you bunk together often. He doesn't mention how tonight he'll let you cuddle up on his chest, or perhaps how he'll press his nose against yours and let you play with his hair, because simply mentioning it will mean you'll have to talk about it.

You don't want to talk about, you think; and neither does he. You don't want to talk about how there's something different with the way he slings his arm around your shoulder, or the way you knock your head against his, or how he always gives out your share of whatever (pizza, cookies, etc.) before anyone else, or how you always offer your help to him no matter what.

They're always easy things to ignore, his skinship is not conditional and neither is your kindness, but there's something about the way you look into his eyes when you say thank you, and something about the way his touch lingers.

You don't want to put your finger on it, at least not this season. You'll say it again the next season, and the next, but you ignore that.

"So then I'm your favorite person?" You turn around and bonk your fist against his chest.

He whistles again, drawn-out like he does in awkward moments, but you know it's only playful. "Don't push your luck, dove. You're like... top 5!"

"Top 5? Aww," You feign offense, plopping your hand over your own chest now, "I didn't make it to top 3?"

He splays out his hand and begins to count on his fingers. "There's my mom, then my dad, then the family dog, Liam from the rodeo, and then you."

"The family dog?" Your eyebrows furrow, and the acting seems a bit too real until the look on your face gives away to a memory of his dog giving you kisses. "Oh, yeah, okay. I get it."

"See? You get it." Tyler chuckles, spins you back around and keeps on walking.

The spot you guys picked today is drier than the last, which is something you're thankful for. It's quite far from any town, but the streetlights that adorn the far off road make you feel a bit safer that civilization is just around the corner. There's a light breeze, not too cold and not too fast, and the stars! Oh, the stars.

They're damn nice out here cause they're actually visible tonight, a little less light pollution, you think. It's certainly a lot brighter than, say, NYC or Washington.

"Ain't they pretty today?" Tyler comments, his hands on your shoulders squeezing.

"Yeah. Sparkly too. You know any constellations?"

"No," He hums, his voice holding a bit of lament. "I tried, once. I tried taking a class in college. Astrology."

"How'd that go?" You ask offhandedly, hopping onto the bed of the truck.

"Ended up being too stressed with my main curriculum and dropped the class before it got too far." He fixes a tarp over the top of the truck bed, over the exoskeleton, so not much light will shine over your eyes when you try to sleep.

"The smart Tyler Owens got too stressed?" You ask as you help him up.

"Being smart doesn't mean I have good time management." Tyler says as he sits next to you, and you shrug. Suppose he's right.

"Still pretty though." You hum, leaning your head against his shoulder as you look up.

"Yeah." He agrees. His arm comes to wrap around you naturally, running up and down your side. "Have you ever tried to come up with constellations with... I don't know, whoever you were looking at the sky with?"

"You know what? I don't think so." You raise a finger, tracing a path in the stars for a moment, trying to find something interesting.

He finds one before you, pointing at a group of stars in a weird glob shape. "There, a cloud!"

That alone gets you to let out an ugly, surprised laugh; despite how ugly you might've thought it to be, he thinks it's cute. "You trynna cloudgaze with stars, cowboy?"

"Shut up." He laughs, knocking his head against yours. "You try, genius."

After a couple seconds, you point out a distinct...cone shape in the sky. "Unicorn horn."

"Unicorn horn?"

"What am I supposed to say, cone?"

"You could've said ice cream cone, a little more age appropriate, you know?" He holds out his hand, holding out a small gap between his index and thumb fingers to accentuate little.

"Yeah, well it has no ice cream, dumbass."

"Woah," Tyler withdraws, raising his hands in surrender. "no need to get so defensive, dove."

You slap his hands only to draw them back around you. He has no complaints about that. "Clearly we both suck at this. Let's just admire the stars normally."

He huffs out a laugh but turns his gaze back to the night sky without complaint. It's rather peaceful, this moment, and so nice. Maybe it's not rare that you get comfortably quiet moments with him, nor is it ever rare for Tyler to hold you close like this, but it doesn't make it any less endearing.

"Look!" Tyler breaks the silence suddenly, finger tracing a path in the stars. "A heart."

"You're kidding." You huff out. He's just playing with you, he has to be, especially after your miserable attempts at finding shapes in the sky.

Despite yourself, your eyes will the stars above you into the shape of a heart. Goddamnit, you think, because it's definitely a sign.

"I'm going to sleep." You tear yourself away from his grip and he laughs and tries to steal you back to him, but you fight briefly and end up winning. It's a nice victory, especially because you won over him, but it's not on par with actually finding something in the sky (and you're avoiding the sign).

Tyler chases after you, flopping down beside you. The tarp above casts darkness over the back of the truck bed, but a soft glow still shines through.

You sigh and tuck a hair of Tyler's behind his ear, to which he only laughs. "Jealous, much?"

"Oh, totally." You'd roll your eyes, but they're stuck on his.

"I won." He's triumphant, but you can only focus on how pretty his smile looks.

"You did." You reply, not fighting him on it, and slowly his amusement fades away with the deflation of his body.

"You're not making this fun." Tyler steals your hand, presses the back of it to his lips and notably does not pucker up and kiss. It might be payback, or it might be avoiding the obvious intimacy that kissing you is.

"It wasn't a competition, anyway." You remind him, and he rolls his eyes.

His attitude eventually exudes out of him with a sigh, and he lets go of your hand to push closer. His head rests below your chin, his nose against your neck, and it's not new, but it's not old either.

"I'm sick n' tired of you." He huffs against your neck as you take the opportunity to tuck the both of you in.

You hold back a laugh. "Oh, yeah? Tell me why."

His voice is muffled against your neck, and maybe the vibrations tickle, but you don't dare move away. "I won! We should be celebrating that."

"Celebrate it in your dreams." Despite it being practically the same thing as in your dreams, it actually sounds quite genuine.

"Don't be like that," Tyler whines. "let me stay up for a little while."

You put your hand in his hair, then, twirling strands around your fingers and scratching his scalp, and Tyler hates you and also loves you, because it feels so good that it pulls a groan out of him, but it's lulling him to sleep.

"You're cheating." He whines again. He's being rather childish, huh?

"It's way past your bedtime." You say in a sing-songy way. Curiosity takes over, and you pull his head away from you gently to look into his eyes.

They open once you pull him off you, just barely. Half-lidded, not by lust, but by sleep. "I just wanna hold you for a little while longer." He says, and you don't know how he does it, but his eyes have turned pleading.

"That's on you to try, cowboy." You huddle close again, allowing him to take up the same position as before.

Despite himself, Tyler sighs contently, wrapping his arms around your midriff. One of your hands is on his back, rubbing slow circles, and the other is back on his hair.

He's definitely not going to last long now.

"When's the last time you've ridden a horse?" Tyler babbles on to try to keep awake, but you can hear the sleepy lilt in his voice. "I think my last time was when I last visited home, before the season started."

"One sheep over the fence, two sheep over the fence–"

"Shuddup."

You laugh, hands smoothing over his hair again. You're not sure how you're not very sleepy right now, tucked under the blankets, in his warm hold. Maybe it's the subconscious thought of not accidentally hitting your head on the spare wheel above you, or the faraway feel of the ridges of the truck bed below you.

Or maybe it's wanting to tease him.

"Kiss me."

"What?"

You've kissed before, little playful things: cheek kisses for the camera, neck kisses to either scare you or tickle you, forehead kisses after particularly dangerous scares, hand kisses when he's trying to act all gentlemanly, temple kisses after hugs. You've never kissed him on the lips before, and actually, neither of you have ever explicitly asked for a kiss. They've always been given without question.

"Please?" He asks again, pulling back so that his forehead is off your neck.

Oh, he only wanted a forehead kiss.

You oblige happily, press your lips against his forehead and let out and exaggerated muah!

"No, not there." He pulls away almost entirely, scooting up to be face to face.

You'd laugh, if what he was asking you for wasn't a kiss on the lips. You can't lie, you've thought about it before, when the sun shines a particular way over his face at sunset, or when he's considerably too hot to ignore.

...you're going to have to talk about this tomorrow.

Except tomorrow is not today yet, and so you cup his cheek. You debate it for a moment, a yes or a no, but there's one answer clear in your mind, a yes.

You press your lips against his, and it's more subtle than that forehead kiss, and it feels so much more tangible, in a way. His lips move against yours, a languid thing, a soft thing.

You wonder if he's going to remember this tomorrow, if being as sleepy as this is equivalent to being drunk.

"Thank you." Tyler says as you part, and he settles back where he was, head against your neck. He seems satisfied now, willing to nod off.

"Don't mention it." You say automatically.

Okay you're definitely going to have to talk about this tomorrow. For now, though, you'll just hold him. It's a strange thing to say, but he's always been rather nice to hold, a big man to fill your entire hug, even if he does make your heartbeat spike.

"Goodnight." He says.

"Sweet dreams." You reply.

There's nothing else to think about but the feeling of him in your arms and the warmth of his body as your eyes draw closed.

[keferon]

Blurr's public presences is spotless -- held aloft as a pinnacle of humanity, unreachable by anyone else. But, outside the public eye...he's still human.

----------------------------------

It's only when Blurr is sure he's alone in the office that he allows himself to relax.  He turns off the TV broadcast spouting out statistics about how fact his mech can go and how many new recruits have signed up for the program under their latest drive.  He silences the radio, that was giving an update about how the mecha program benefits communities too – how just the other day, Blurr had stopped to help a family get their kitten out of a tree and still been speedy enough to save the day afterwards.

Blurr sighs and slumps into his office desk chair, casual grin sliding off his face.  He stretches out one arm to sweep away the pile of newspapers neatly stacked in the center of the desk.  The action papers the office floor with headlines and photos – his own name and face staring back at him.

Blurr.  Blurr.  Blurr.  Blurr. Blurr…blurr…blurr….

At least he's never in danger of forgetting his own name, he thinks sardonically.  Not with someone saying it every few seconds he's not alone.

Not that it matters really.  Publicity stunts.  All of it.  Meaningless.

There've been countless attacks in recent weeks Blurr knows, even if he can't hold on to the exact number.  Countless actual mech pilots on the front lines. 

Blurr knows because he watches them hurrying through the hangars each day, grim looks on their faces.  He feels a twinge of guilt that he doesn't know any of their names.  Doesn't even know for sure that they're the same people, though he's fairly certain they must be.

Not that it really matters.  He's not really one of them.  Never has been.

And it's not like he's alone in not knowing their names.  The media doesn't seem to know or care who's actually saving everyone's lives.  The boss doesn't seem to care either, so long as the world isn't ending and money is still flowing into his pockets.

Blurr should care.  He should.  They're the ones actually fighting for humanity – the real heroes.  Not Blurr.

But some days, some days it's all just a bit too much.  Because if he cares, he has to admit the truth.  And if he admits the truth, then he's no longer the shining, perfect icon of humanity everyone expects him to be.  So the façade remains unbroken, even as Blurr chafes underneath it.

He wants to be more.  Misses the thrill of the actual race.  Not just the stunts the boss schedules him for, where he runs a set distance through a controlled environment under spotlights and cameras.  Give him the wind whipping through his hair.  Give him the intensity of competing against the best of the best – human ingenuity and improvisation put to the test as they were pitted against an equally intelligent opponent in a lightning-fast test of skills.  He misses the adrenaline rush of the race.  Misses knowing that each time he finished he had done something few others could – and that it was something that mattered.

The boss assures him that what he does does matter.  That the program wouldn't – couldn't exist without him. 

Because they need that good publicity. (Blurr still feels like he should be doing more.) 

They need the money he brings in from donors.   (The boss at least, definitely wants the money.  Though whether he needs the money, Blurr finds questionable every time he watches him keep a check for himself that's substantially larger than the one Blurr walks away with.)

But at the end of the day Blurr can't argue that the boss and the money don't keep the program running.  And if he has no regrets that he still hasn't learned his bosses name, well….  The man acts understanding every time he's around Blurr, but Blurr can tell that that's all it is – an act (and he would know).  And if Blurr himself lets his confidence cross the line into arrogance and acts just a little bit more dismissive than he has to around the man, he doubts many would blame him.  The less time he has to spend with the boss the better.

Even if the boss seems to think the opposite of him.  He'd given Blurr a private radio the day Blurr first signed on to his contract, all in the name of being helpful.  Anything Blurr needed, anything at all.  Blurr has gotten the feeling though that it's as much so that the boss can keep track of Blurr as his investment.  He uses it more to call on Blurr – for anything and everything any time of day or night that might get a boost from a little extra star power.

Speaking of…Blurr's radio crackles to life.  "You have an appointment in engineering in five.  Be there.  Find someone else to assist you, I'm busy.  Over and out."  The radio dies as suddenly as it came to life.

Blurr sighs again, picks up his coffee cup from the desk and downs it in one gulp.  He kicks the newspapers into a corner of the office and shrugs on his coat.  The smile slides easily back onto his face as though it had never been out of place as he steps forward, opens his office door, and wanders out to find someone who might be able to help him find engineering.

“He misses the adrenaline rush of the race.  Misses knowing that each time he finished he had done something few others could – and that it was something that mattered.” ANON YOU ARE KILLING ME. BRUTALLY MURDERING WITHOUT ANY MERCY AND IM NOT COMPLAINING EVEN IN THE SLIGHTEST /POS

[drtanner]

You know, I think I'm starting to understand why the sharing culture on this site is such dogshit now.

As I mentioned earlier in the week, I spent several solid hours going through my art and writing tags as far back as 2012 and manually deleting everything I found, including all of my own reblogs, because I don't expect my opt out from having my blogs' data scraped to be honoured, and seeing the difference in the way people interacted with my work back then and the way they interact with it now (or the way they don't interact with it at all, more specifically) was deeply and tragically enlightening.

tl;dr, despite having had a fraction of the followers back then that I have now, as well as being an objectively better artist and writer than I used to be 10+ years ago, my work travelled further and people engaged with it more, and they also sent me asks with drabble prompts and questions about my OCs all the time, whereas none of that happens at all anymore. This place was a lot more communal back in that pre-2016 era and generally a lot more rewarding and fun.

There's been plenty of posts going around over the last few years begging people to reblog because that's how this site works, but every one of those posts always winds up lousy with people saying they just click "Like" on things because they like them but not enough to put them on their own blog, or because they don't want to clutter their blog, or because tagging things is too much effort or whatever, and I'm noticing a pattern. There's something that all of these common responses have in common:

All of these people are wholly concerned with themselves and the way their blog looks, or what their blog is supposed to be for, or some other similarly entirely self-centred point of focus.

Listen. Other people have already tried to explain to you that that's not what this place is about or what this place is for or that you can make as many sideblogs as you want if you're trying to curate something specific, and they've had little success in emparting understanding to you, so I'm going to try a different approach.

Here are ten (10) benefits of reblogging that will make this site more fun and engaging for you, personally! ( b ._.)b

You get to keep the thing for yourself, but you also get to pass it along for other people to play with, too! Best of all worlds. How often do you get to keep a thing and share it?

Look in your Activity after you reblog something you enjoy to find other people who like the same things that you do! This is a terrific way to find new people to follow.

Sometimes you'll make a comment when you reblog something and later find that an awful lot of strangers are reblogging it from you directly for some reason. This is usually because someone else later down the line made a much stupider and worse comment and those strangers are now all clicking on your reblog so that they can reblog the post without that other person's stupider and worse comment on it. I like it a lot when this happens. You can get a lot of new followers this way, too!

Even if you don't have the time or spoons to play with jpegs like dolls yourself, your reblog can put the post in front of those folks who do. Playing with jpegs like dolls is half of what makes this site function; give it a bit of time, and the jpegs will cross your dash again with new additions. As it is with anything you love, set it free, and the love will come back to you one hundredfold. 💜

Look in your Activity after reblogging some art or writing to see people going nuts in the tags. You can also go nuts in the tags if you want; everyone loves seeing this when it happens, especially the artist or writer themselves.

Commenting with your reblog is like raising your hand to share your opinion with the whole room, whereas reblogging with your comment in the tags is more like whispering to the person next to you and keeping it between yourselves. Contrary to what you might have been told by others, both are perfectly fine and good and they each have their place. You can do both on the same reblog, even! Take part in the conversation!

If you're too shy to talk, reblogging without commentary is a lot like parallel play. You're all enjoying the same thing quietly together!

When you reblog things a lot, you'll start to see the same people popping up in your Activity feed all the time. These people are your friends whether you actually talk to them or not.

Stuck for something to say? Point out something you liked about the post! It can be something small! Acknowledging things that make you happy out loud is good for your mental health and also your soul.

Reblogging also invites other people who are doing all of these things to find and follow you!

There's so much to do on here beyond checking your dash and occasionally looking at the For You tab. You can discover all kinds of people and things by making a bit of an effort and having a poke around in your Activity feed and on the blogs of people who interact with the posts you're seeing and passing along! I promise you don't need an algorithm to do this for you; the action of exploring the landscape around you on this website is fun in its own right!

Get out there and see who your neighbours are. 💜

[unbidden-yidden-deactivated20240]

I have gotten so many messages from folks who see what's happening to Jews right now, how literally any statement from us that isn't straight up "death to Israel!" "tear it down!" "river to the sea!" etc. - no matter how tempered in other ways or critical of the Israeli government it is - anything even mildly supportive of the terrorism victims/their families in their grief and/or Israelis deserving to live is getting dog piled to an absurd degree. And yes, that primarily targets Jews (because we're the ones primarily speaking on it) but it definitely is also hitting anyone not Jewish who says this as well. Immediately, overnight, the left has made any position that respects everyone's human rights and allows Jews room to grieve our murdered and missing family and friends without telling us they deserved to die in terrible ways completely radioactive. Like literally even the most milquetoaste statement attracts numerous hysterical commentators. And because it's so toxic, people are afraid to speak up.

And I've now heard from a lot of gentiles that they had no idea how deep the rot of leftist antisemitism went, how they've been seeing this unfold with horror, and are afraid to speak up.

Here's what I'll say: those messages give me a lot of strength, because they help me remember that I'm not insane, that this is horrendous, and we are seeing in real time exactly who would have helped the Gestapo find us if they were sufficiently convinced that this is "decolonization." That yes, the backlash really *is* that bad. I hear that affirmation and I appreciate it, and I understand your fear, because it was mine too. I myself strongly considered at the beginning not saying anything about this until I could do so without being harassed. (I decided against that because I am physically incapable of shutting up when it pertains to my people, but I understand the sentiment.)

Here's the thing: this is never going to end - those people who take seriously the question "are Jews people?" are going to be the vocal minority unless and until we all speak out. Jews are 2% of the US population and 0.2% of the world's population - there are literally more self-identified Nazis in America than there are Jews. I would honestly be surprised if there weren't more horseshoe theory leftists in the world than Jews also.

That being the case, we really do need our allies to speak up with us. I think if we all spoke up at once, it might be enough to break the silence-taken-as-agreement and shame everyone but the avowed antisemites (rather than the thoughtless and opportunistic ones) back into keeping their antisemitism under wraps. Which does have the effect of bringing the mob under control. Jews have faced a ton of mob violence in the form of pogroms throughout our history and backlash to Jewish victimhood. (Tl;dr - "How dare you make me consider how I might have benefited from or been complicit in hurting Jews? This is actually the fault of the Jews." is a disturbingly common thought process.) (You may also be wondering what I mean by "opportunistic;" I can explain in another post if people are interested.)

I know it's scary. I am well aware that you might lose friends from this. I personally decided that if those "friends" valued Jewish lives so little, they were never my friends to begin with, but it's different for non-Jews. They may genuinely be your friends. I'm not demanding you do this for me or my community, but I am asking you to consider what your line is for your friends. And if you are able to talk to them, to ask them what makes this group different from all other groups in terms of deserving compassion and human rights, it may just help us to quiet the mob.

And, if nothing else, just privately reminding those of us who are speaking about it that we are grounded in reality and compassion helps combat the mass gaslighting going on.

[elysiansparadise]

hi there!! I love your work and I would love to hear your take on Jupiter in the 11th house!

have a wonderful day ❤️

Hello love, I appreciate your words, thank you very much. I hope you have a wonderful day too. ❤️

Jupiter in the 11th house

They are people who see friendship as a gift and they treasure it as such. This placement shows us not only a good friend with whom you have fun and can't stop laughing, but a friend who will do everything in their power to understand you and support you when you need it most. Natives are very altruistic, empathetic people with an inclination to help and support those who they consider need it. They are generous with their time and resources, and often feel called to support their friends and those in their circle. Tendencies to be popular or easily influence other people, they can be that typical friend that everyone turns to if they need advice, since they usually have the role of mentor. Whether extroverted or not, they naturally evoke a welcoming aura and easily make you feel accepted and appreciated. They can attract a lot of luck after helping other people, and they can even attract friendships that benefit and support them a lot [if Jupiter makes good aspects]. If they decide to work in something related to social media, they can get great support from the community and become influential, especially if Pluto, Sun or Moon are making positive aspects.

These people can obtain a lot of profits through their work, accumulating a lot of money, prestige and success. They usually stand out for their ambition and that vision of wanting to achieve great things. They dream big and many of them tend to put many demands on their shoulders. If you make a tense aspect to Mars, it is even possible that they want to achieve a lot in a short time. These people look after the common good, they do what they consider to be right at all times. Many of them can put their ego aside knowing when to leave their most personal desires for later, it should be noted that they know how to deal with people. They are people who take the time to truly understand people and give them attention and encouragement. These people take the time to think about how their actions or words will impact other people, they see beyond their own bubble and have a healthy degree of empathy and compassion. They are excellent at working as a team, because although they find satisfaction in doing their part well, they know how to support and guide others. They are people with a lot of gratitude, they know how to recognize and appreciate the efforts of other people. They really like to contribute to their closest circles, they prefer to spread messages that really support improvement rather than destructive or baseless criticism.

This is one of the most open-minded positions of Jupiter, as it makes the natives not close themselves in their own world where the correct thing is what they know, but rather encourages them to investigate and learn to change and question their perspectives, with the sole purpose of being able to generate theirs. They have that need to expand their visions of the world and nourish their thirst for knowledge. Despite the popularity of these natives and their unique charm, they tend to seek friendships with whom they can overcome those gaps of superficiality, deep friendships that contribute positively to their lives and teach them interesting things. A friendship where there is a fun and exciting bond, but also the quality of a constant companion who supports them as much as they do. They seek to nourish themselves with good, new things and pleasant sensations, so they will hate to create unnecessary drama or this hyper-competitive attitude with friends, opting instead to support each other and be able to rely on each other, while enjoying their company.

-> Go back to the masterlist

[emloafs]

so you think the mohawk kid stares at his best friend's lips a lil too long, now what?

HAWKMETRI FIC REC! here's a complete list of my favorite Hawkmetri/Binary Boyfriend fanfics for those who need a crash course into this niche brain rot (which no one asked for). Read below!

silver on your tongue, copper on your lips by HearJessRoar | 2k words | CMON YOU ALREADY KNOW! There’s a reason this one of the highest ranked fics in their ao3 tag. It’s so them. Fighting turned makeout sesh? Spectacular give me fourteen of them right now. Couldn’t tell you how many times I've read this...

The Cobra Effect by slrandomperson | 6.9k words | THIS ONEEE everyone knows this one everyone loves this one. This fic invented the ‘what if Eli DIDN’T break dem’s arm’ trope imo. This fic walked so others could run. Still the best of its kind.

Spoilers for My Valentine by Asphodelia ( @asphodel-storm) | 11.9k words | If you are going to read any fic, READ THIS ONE! Takes place around s3, but Demetri does his best to not only snap Eli out of his red-Hawk evil phase but also woo him by reminding him (and spoiling) of all the nerd shit he likes. It is as good as it sounds. I go back to this one ALL the time.

I don’t care what you call me (as long as you call me) by Anonymous | 4.2k words | I’ll say this for multiple fics, but this is my favorite hawkmetri fic. It’s so fun and fluffy and SO THEM. basically eli is like call me whatever and demetri finds the perfect opportunity to do something very funny and also some wooing.

this is our get along shirt by Anonymous | 3.8k words | Listen maybe I just like fics where Demetri successfully turns Eli back to the light side simply by reminding him of the good in the things he used to hate about himself/his life. In this fic, circa s3, Demetri wears all of the old clothes Eli left at his house to get his attention. Eli gets PISSED. It is everything to me. 

One Of The Finer Things in Life by Ithinkwehaveanemergency | 4k words | Eli basically being like “oh no he’s hot” after seeing Demetri shirtless. Fluffy and also hot and so well written. As always, this author captures them perfectly. It’s funny and it’s cute and I love it.

And I Will Not Fall Hard This Time by Ithinkwehaveanemergency | 12.7k words | Another one from this author!! Essentially, Eli and Dem become friends with benefits in college and don’t think that will end poorly for them at all.  Note: If you don’t like NSFW, this one is not for you, but i personally love a little spice when it’s well done. Everything about this fic makes my heart hurt. Like they’re so gone for each other but they SUCK AT COMMUNICATING. I’ve read this one so many times too. So many kisses for this fic. Like it has a chokehold on me I can’t explain

Always Thinking I Could Love You More by Ithinkwehaveanemergency | 6.5 words | Listen if you know me you know I love a fic that centers around Hawk’s hair. Essentially Hawk dyes his hair and Demetri is STARING. Bestie Yasmine is here to meddle. (can you tell i really like this author?)

lavender haze by youngervolcano | 3.1k words | This one is light and FUNNY. Classic everyone thinks they’re dating but them. Very cute quick read.

andisol by samemoon ( @carmendiazbian) | 25k (incomplete) | Don’t get me started on this one!!! The way my heart HURT reading it!!! Takes canon and changes it a little, but essentially a deeper look at Eli after s3, slowly mending Demetri and Eli’s relationship, and a look at how they got where they are now. I need to reread this one again because it is just one of the most well-written hawkmetri fics I’ve come across. It’s not completed, but I assure you it is still worth the read. 

Who You Are Inside by Asphodelia ( @asphodel-storm) | 4.9k words | I just think this one is neat! ‘His Dark Materials’ AU with daemons - I know absolutely nothing about that world, yet I still really liked this! Follows canon but with animal companions that are actually your soul/their shape reflects your soul. Childhood Eli and Demetri and falling back together with a dash of a soulmate trope. So fun if you love a tad of a fantasy element!!

Second Chances by Asphodelia ( @asphodel-storm) | 31k words | Is this one realistic in the slightest? No! But I loved it! Essentially this is what would happen if Pre S1 Eli swapped bodies with S3 Eli. Has some really strong parts and the premise is so silly but endearing that I love coming back to it. Good characterization too! Again, a nod to anyone who loves a little fantasy (another Asphodelia fic!)

Or you could read one of my fics if you feel so inclined.

Be sure to check ratings and warnings! Only read what you like!

[adventuringblind]

Solace

Max Verstappen x Reader

Genre: angsty AF but happy end don't worry

Request: No, but they're open! I love seeing your ideas so please send them! I promise I don't bite... most the time ;)

Summary: you and Max get to grow together. Neither of your dads being the best parenting model. When Max sees what your dad has don’t to you, he knows something has to be done.

Warnings: Jos Verstappen, depictions of most forms of abuse, descriptions of injuries

Notes: written in second person. I’ve noticed a theme with my writing… we’re just going to ignore it and I will continue to heal my trauma this way :)

Masterlist

Everyone expected great things from you. Expectations you wanted so badly to meet. Yet you always felt like you were falling short.

Your father is a Redbull mechanic. A good one at that. He's incredibly smart and respected within the paddock. One of Max's top engineers.

Your mother had left during your childhood. This means you got to spend your time traveling everywhere with your father. Him even being your teacher until you started online school and graduated.

Christian offered you a job that involved being on the pitwall. One you took happily. It meant you didn't have to spend the race in the garage with your dad.

From the outside, you looked happy. But you weren't up to standard with what your father wanted. You weren't perfect.

Behind closed doors, things were much different. You were blamed for your mothers disappearance. Blamed for your fathers woes. Used as a physical and verbal punching bag to help him feel better.

All the while, you convinced yourself it was for his benefit. That you deserved this for not being what your father wanted. He provided for you all these years, why couldn't you do this for him.

When Max started at redbull, both of you were still young. Regardless, the friendship was meant to be. No matter how much wither of your fathers hated it.

It led to secret rendezvous and stolen moments of escape with each other. You understood him and he understood you.

Max failed to realize how you understood. His dad was open with his behaviors. Jos had yet to back down from a session of publicly shaming his child. Your dad didn't do anything close to that. So how on earth could you know exactly what he needed during those hard nights.

He'd asked Christian about it a few times. Why you were so shy and timid around adults. It was difficult to understand.

Christian had told him not to worry about it and to focus on his racing. He was watching out for you.

It was true. Christian had been your Guardian angel on multiple occasions. Even staying with his family over long breaks why home was too difficult. He made sure you were fed and had clothes that fit. Everything you lacked in your own house.

The one thing that stopped him from getting him away from you is that you never explicitly told him or showed any signs of it. He was working on assumptions and possible hints.

He'd tried to catch anything that would give him a leg up, but he'd yet to het anything.

Your relationship with Max grew over the years. The two of you melded. You knew how to tame the Mad Max that fought to escape, and he knew how to soothe your tears.

You found solice in each other. Stability in your friendship. A love you both were willing to fight for.

Which happened a lot.

Neither of you knew how to communicate properly. Resulting in hard arguments and yelling matches. One of you is always shutting down before any real reconciliation can happen.

Christian got to be a father to both of you in this way. Coaching you two on how to express your feelings healthily. He was routing for you two. Knowing both your fathers weren't the best, you and Max needed to learn and love with someone safe. He was glad to take you both under his wing.

Then you were able to flourish. You started smiling more. Your eyes lost the bags from underneath them.

Max started opening up more. Standing up to his father slowly became easier. His smile and silly attitude got to be more prominent.

You started showing affection to each other in public. Openly spending time with the other. Not caring what either of your fathers thought.

After all, you were both adults. Right?

You thought everything was going to be over when you moved in with Max. You were nervous about it, mainly because you were self-conscious about your body. Nevertheless, you knew it would be a good change.

~

It was a soft moment between you two. Your giggles as Max left chaft kisses all over your face made him smile.

He felt bad for looking. He knew you were struggling with insecurities, and he wanted to respect your privacy.

But as your shirt inches up your body, he catches sight of the dark marks along your hips and torso.

He immediately stopped everything. His breathe hitched in his throat.

You looked where his eyes had landed. The secret finally out. One part of you wanted to be relieved, but right now you were panicking. Your brain reeling with every possible outcome.

You did the first thing that came to mind. You apologized. You begged him not to tell anyone. Tried to convince him that it was your own fault. Your breath becoming more uneven with every word.

Max was taken off guard. He knew it had been bad, but he’d never seen it and you’d never shown him. His emotions were bubbling to the surface rapidly. But you didn’t need him to be angry with your father right now.

He removes his hands from your body to give you space. He didn’t want to scare you anymore then he already had. “Don’t apologize, none of that is your fault, okay.” It felt like he was trying to soothe a wild animal. “Can I hold you?”

You nodded your head yes. Eyes moving rapidly to every sound. Your senses hyper aware of everything happening.

He reached out for you slowly, making sure to stay within eye view. Something that helped him when he’d come to you. Slowly you made your way into his arms. Basking in the way he felt like safety.

“We don’t have to talk about it now, but when you’re ready I’m going to spend hours kissing all your bruises better.”

~

The next morning, Max took it slow. You both were needed at the track but he wasn’t in a rush. He wanted to give you time. You’d fallen asleep in his arms. Him soothing every tear that ran down your cheeks.

When you two arrived together, he made his way through the back entry with you in tow. Attempting to avoid cameras and your father. He needed to make sure you got somewhere safe first before he even attempted talking to his lead engineer.

He immediately went to Christian. His face when he saw you two approach made Max want to turn around.

“I can see on your face that you want to punch someone.” Christian sighs in exasperation.

Max looks between his team principal and you. Words now refusing to form in his mouth. How was he supposed to explain this? “Can Y/N stay with you while I run around doing things.”

Christian hesitates, confusion evident. “Only if you tell me what’s going on.” He could see you were in pain. You looked like you’d been crying.

Max leaned into whisper. Worried about cameras and the nearing possibility of your father spotting you two. “It’s worse then we thought.”

Christian rubbed his temples. Motioning for Max and you to follow him into his office. The door closing the a soft click behind them. Neither sat down, the anxiety too much for either of them.

Christian was trying to get a read off of you. You, however, had yet to even look at him. Your body language had reverted back to when you were small. When he let you pretend to work on the cars. It hurt him.

He was about to say something when a knock sounded at the door. A rough knock. A familiar knock. You flinched away from the door. Your survival instincts kicking in.

Christian motioned for you two to sit down. Max gently gripping your wrist to get you to follow him. You flicked unintentionally but he just looked at you knowingly. You needed to move and he was just trying to help.

You sit down across from Christian. Max’s leg was bouncing up and down so fast you thought he might put a hole in the floor.

“Come in.”

You don’t turn around when the door closes. You can hear his breathing. Aware of his every move without even seeing him. Fighting every urge to run away.

“Oh- I was looking for Y/N. We need to go over some data.” He picked up on your fear. You knew it as he walked directly behind you. His hand gripping your shoulder.

You flinched and turned away from his hand. The tension in the room was to thick for you to breath. Max was already out of his chair and ready to connect his fist with anything.

Christian put his hands in between the two men. Aware of the still open door and people peaking inside.

You were trying to cower away from the aggression. Away from the onlookers. Into the safety of Max.

“I think Y/N was busy going over some things with Max, but I’d be happy to look at it.” Christian gave his best attempt at a neutral smile.

Your father was growing angrier. It’s the first time he’d openly tried anything. The grip he had on your shoulder already bruising.

“Busy doing what? Trying to ruin her future even more?”

Max saw red. He was already angry, but now he’d crossed a line. He knew he shouldn’t have done it. However, the feeling of his fist connecting with the jaw of your fathers was to satisfying for him to care.

Your father reeled backwards. His hands clutching his face.

You jump from the chair. Finding refuge behind Max's body.

Max was ready to go for another swing. Before he could lunge, Christian grabbed his shoulder.

"Why don't you Teo cool off in Max's driver room. I'll come find you later."

Max didn't move. His chest heaving. The two men willing eachother to make a move.

You take Max's wrist. Gently trying to lead him through the door.

You, however, didn't get far. Your father knew something was wrong the second he saw you come into the garage. He’d been around Max long enough to know that he’s a protector. He knew that if you wanted, you could ruin his entire life.

So, he lunged for you. Grabbed hold of your hair and pulled. You were in his grip again before Max could even register what was happening.

“Max, go get security.”

“But-“

“Your going to be faster then me.”

Reluctant, Max sprints out of the garage. Making his way swiftly to the nearest security checkpoint. He was grateful it was only Thursday. The amount of fans in the paddock significantly less and he didn’t have to drive with his adrenaline already so high.

You were silently pleading that Christian is able to talk some sense into your father. His previously free hand now covering your mouth.

You’d been here before. Breath. Hold. Exhale. Repeat. The mantra you’re mind recited through your entire childhood.

You could see Christian saying words but couldn’t hear them. He was trying to get closer but the hold on you became stronger with each step he took.

Your mind goes blank for a moment. Your body present but your mind dissociated. You can see the interactions take place, but you don’t feel present, or even real.

He is shaking you now. Your body jostling. Then the floor. More footsteps.

Max.

He’s leaning over you. Checking to see if your okay. You can see the panic in his eyes. A soft blue that you will your mind to latch onto.

You can hear him now. He’s whispering to you. “Your safe now” falling like a prayer from his lips.

Max cradles you in his arms. Holding you close as the noises of your father struggling slowly get quieter.

Christian also appeared at eye level. Crouching down beside the two of you. “I’m so sorry that I didn’t see it.”

“I didn’t want to cause my trouble.”

“You never cause trouble.” A smile ghosts across Christian’s face for a moment. “Your dad will not be allowed back into the paddock. And you already know, but if you ever need a place you’re welcome at our home.”

~

Unfortunately, the events that transpired were within view of people and cameras. Christian deemed it a ‘family emergency’ and let you two go back to the hotel. Leaving the media Max needed to do for tomorrow and Checo to replace Max at the press conference.

Now you and Max lay facing each other on the bed. Neither has said very much. Only trying to process the events.

Then you remember something Max said last night. “Can you kiss it better please?”

Max smiled softly and inched himself closer to you. “Stop me if it becomes to much.” You nod at him.

He lifts up your Redbull polo uniform just above your waistline. Placing gently kisses to every place on your body that your father had marked in some way.

He pulled you into him after he finished. The two of you just staying their. Embracing the new possibility of peace you’d both wanted for so long.

[skywerse]

You bringing this whole thing up was disrespectful and unnecessary. Stop pressuring the council to bring riptide back 💀

Well, well well... Seems like someone not only can't read but also doesn't understand the importance of communication in a relationship between creators and their audience.

First off, it’s crucial to differentiate between constructive criticism and disrespect. When I raise concerns about communication and transparency, I’m not attacking them, but I’m simply advocating for a more professional approach!

In my original thread, I was NOT, IN ANY WAY, pressuring them to bring Riptide back faster. I know that I am a serial riptide misser—I'll admit it! BUT, if you have decent reading comprehension skills, you’d see that was never the point of the thread to begin with. I’ve stated multiple times that I don’t give two shits how long it takes. I even mentioned this directly to Grizzly! My thread was focused on wanting updates to keep the audience in the loop.

I understand that the creative process can be messy and that breaks are needed. However, when fans go months without any official updates, it is frustrating as hell.

Yes, some may say, "We already knew all this dawg," but that information often came from a one-off reddit comment, a passing mention on some stream, or speculation made from a random tweet. NOT EVERYONE IS IN THE LOOP, and I’ve seen people wondering if the campaign has ended or if it’s not coming back at all. So, do you think advocating for transparency and them updating us officialy is still unnecessary?

And again, it’s important to remember that asking for better communication doesn’t equate to being disrespectful or asking for too much.

it is, in fact, bare minimum.

On a brighter note I genuinely appreciate the update we got, and I’m glad they listened, since I've seen people saying that communication was an ongoing issue for fuck knows how long. I hope this level of communication continues, because, HEAR ME OUT, it will benefit both them and us in the future! I know, crazyyy.

[curioscurio]

Why we have to start being nicer to eachother:

I know it sucks and is hard, but I think we really do need to start treating techbros and incels and our fellow humans with a bit more compassion, empathy, and understanding before we jump to bad faith interpretation. Especially when seeing a bad take online used as bait for arguments. We have to give other people the opportunity and knowledge to think for themselves, and make the choice to become a better person on their own.

"Hold on! Why should I be nice to people like that? THEY'RE the ones who are being bigoted to US!"

Well, I'll try and answer that question below! I ended up writing a lot, so check out the "read more" if you're curious. At the end of the day, I'm not an expert or a professional on human behavior, so keep that in mind. This is just something I've been thinking about based on my own past experiences.

Conspiracy theorists, the far right, gun enthusiasts, and even MAGA's all operate on the belief that modern society hates them for who they are. They think the entire world is against them.

And, looking at the kind of hate rhetoric and harmful ideologies they talk about; the cruel acts of casual and extremist violence that stem from that community, it easy to see why the world has turned its back on them. Right?

It makes you wonder: "Why are they like this?"

The easy way out is to simply hold on to the belief that they are behaving this way because they are bad people. Bad people do bad things, after all.

But when the world turns its back on a group of people, those people turn their backs on the world. They will naturally gravitate towards whichever group of accepting humans they come across first. Whoever validates their feelings and makes them feel accepted and safe instead of rejected and fearful.

The far right preys on young men who don't know know any better because they are never treated any better. They have influencers, exactly like Donald Trump, that make you feel safe. They also are lying to these people and using their fear of rejection to control them.

It's very similar to how the Church will help you out and feed you if you're homelss... as long as you join the church and donate 10% of your earnings to "God." (The churchs bank account. )

That is to say, people don't usually pop out of the womb with these prejudices and fears programed into their heads. It's something that has to be taught to them by somebody else. Their parents, the church, their school, their friends, youtubers, etc.

"So, what do we do? How do we save future and current generations from being sucked into this hateful spiral of far right bigotry?"

"How do we help our conservative parents, who we know love us but are absolutely convinced that they need guns to keep their families safe? How do we help our Trump Train family members who used to be loving, compassionate, people?"

Well, you're not gonna like the answer. We have to start being nicer to everyone. We have to be nicer to incels, dude bros, techbros, Karen's, and yes, even your average Republican voters. We have to show them compassion and empathy when they're expressing their fears, without immediately attacking them for it. We have got to prove to them that there's a place for them to come back to.

Their fears are being taken advantage of by a system that benefits from pitting the general population against each other. If we're too busy fighting eachother, we can never join forces and fight the system.

And so it turns into a self-sustaining system of fear and reactive lashing out. They start believing that everybody is against them, except the few people who understand. Until the only safe place left for them is the Q Anon message boards. Quite literally an orobourous of hate.

"But Curio! They literally want us dead! These people are violent and irredeemable!"

Many of them are. So many of these people are groomed into believing that the only way they can keep themselves safe is by killing anything they think has caused them harm. It's an intentional system maintained by those in power to control those who are not.

Some of them, however, are just normal people who got in with the wrong crowd or are too young to know better. Some people were never given the chance to be better.

"So, what SHOULD we do? Be nice to our oppressors? Let them get away with hate crimes and bigotry?"

No. But we DO need to stop thinking of "them" as this massive malevolent demographic who have no souls and are inherently evil. The majority of these people were lied to and manipulated and groomed into these beliefs.

We have to try harder to stop ourselves before we start calling them names and attack them, regardless of if they deserve it or not. We have to engage with them on good faith. Learn about WHY they believe conspiracy theories and why it stems from fear.

"Why? What will this help?"

Because you're quite literally showing them that there's another option available for them to take. You're showing them that, if they do change their minds and want to change their behavior, that you are a safe person to approach with these thoughts. You have the power to create a space for them where they're allowed to think for themselves without punishing them for it.

Once you create that connection, it's like you're showing them another road in life they can explore. They now can see a new future for themselves. A future where their kids start talking to them again. A future where they're not terrified of being humiliated for being soft. A future where they feel listened to.

And that's all. You just have to give them that chance. It's not your job to change their mind, or to tell them that they're wrong for thinking thoughts. In fact, trying to do just that will usually encourage them to double down.

But what you CAN do is build an environment where they have the OPPORTUNITY to change their mind. You can be kind, empathetic, and educational. Be patient and listen and have a respectful conversation with them.

It is especially important for people with privilege to step up and be those kinds of diplomats. People who are able and willing to look past the surface bigotry to address the scared humans underneath. People who can do this without endangering themselves or their community. This may be other cis straight white people who can get away with bringing these topics up gently, without triggering reflexive defensiveness. Who then have the patience to gently educate them and steer them towards a better path.

"But Curio, I can't do this. I've been hurt too many times by these people, and doing this would cause me significant mental distress."

Then don't. You're not obligated to be the better person for every situation and circumstance. Nuance must be taken into account. You don't have to be nice to every troll or ragebait Twitter post. I certainly don't want you to put yourself in a situation that causes you emotional, physical, or mental harm. Hell, you don't even have to give them the time of day. It's your own responsibility to make the judgment call regarding your health.

But people simply won't change if there's no room for them to change. And some people have the power to make that room for them little by little.

"I've tried everything. I've begged, cried, been nice, and shown them that we won't reject them. They won't change their minds no matter what."

And that's also ok! It can happen. When you give people the opportunity to make choices for themselves, there will always be people who still choose to believe the system they were groomed on. They can do that because thats free will, baby. There will still be people who will not change their minds and who will actively choose to become more radicalized.

And it's sad to see. But you also have to respect that sometimes people aren't ready to change at the same time that you're ready to help them change.

But you should try to do it for all the young men and children who are being taught by their parents that White Genocide is real. You should do it for the parents who love their kid so much, but are so terrified when they say they're transgender because they don't know what to do. Because they know the world will not treat them fairly or are afraid of ruining everything.

You should do it for your 10 year old nephew who watches Andrew Tate because their mother doesn't give a damn enough to check what kind of YouTube videos their kid is watching. You should do it for the depressed and hurting teenager who thinks they have no option left but to buy a gun and shoot up their school, because no ones listening to them. You should do it for the tradwife who's alone and hurting after her conservative husband cheated on her and left her with nothing; because she thought she would be the exception.

"...How do you know this will work? What if you're wrong, and nothing changes?"

I don't! I'm just a random person on the internet. I dont know who might read this. It's just my opinion.

But at least, at the end of the day, you tried your best to be a good person to another human being, and I don't think that's such very a bad thing. For me, I'm going to try because I don't want to lose my father to that kind of environment. I want to be able to have a normal conversation with him again.

There's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it's worth fighting for.