#this is what its all about innit

[john-gosh-darnielle]

drift down into the new dark light

[boygirlctommy]

btw i will never be over how tommy kept his compass locked in his enderchest at all times, and tubbo never took his out of his offhand

[uglypastels]

this is not meant to be judgemental because i love the songs, but girl, for someone who predominantly writes about fucking guys, your Spotify Wrapped is pretty gay🩷🧡

2024 has been the year of trying to figure stuff out, but it hasn't really worked so far. 🩷

[plaguery]

indepth discussion of my qualms with/reaction to a youtube video about incest porn below. read at your own discretion (mentions of other paraphilias, csa, cnc & rape)

"What's with all the incest porn?"

The video in question first defends the existence of incest porn by attempting to defend consensual incest itself. (read what I had to say about the creator's definition of incest here, warning for mentions of csa) To the creator, consensual incest is another social construct that we hold too much reserve for and constrain ourselves in our inherent reactions of disgust, rather than engaging with the truth of it's impact. Historically, incest has occurred across cultures and economic lines, often with little fanfare involved. They examine how inbreeding only fosters negative genetic effects after several generations and how it can be easily "rectified" in just a couple generations with the reintroduction of genetic diversity. Our inherent disgust towards incest is claimed to be unfounded against the evidence of how severe and reoccuring inbreeding must be to create tangible effects. Outside of those genetic effects, what else can excuse this nearly "universal" feeling of disgust? Well, that is a question quickly ignored and driven into the ground in this video.

It is often mentioned in the video that incest, even consensual, is a taboo across the many cultures of the world. But I must ask, why is it a taboo? What causes the instinctual feeling of disgust? And my favorite question, why is this taboo in particular popular to fantacize about?

Taboos are often culturally unique, many taboos found in one culture are readily engaged in with little question in another. Yet, there are some "universal" taboos (said with a grain of salt as there really can't be anything Universal about cultures but. we'll say almost here). These typically concern death and the dead. It's easy to connect these to basic fear and sanitary reasons: death will come for all of us, it ends us, we live to defy death until we can no longer, we must properly dispose of/treat the dead to avoid catching it and avoid inflaming the spiritual dead for own peaceful afterlife. But in our modern world, incest has grown close to being one of these near "universal" taboos, especially the closer the relation. It can be quite hard for most to say exactly why. We feel the revulsion, the writhing barriers of transgression around it. It feels obvious, yet just outside full comprehension.

The video explains the common evolutionary explanation that we evolved to feel disgust towards a practice that puts our genetic legacy at a disadvantage. It addresses how this doesn't quite explain why single instances of consensual incest feel just as disgusting as mass occurrences of it over time. Just once is enough to cross the line. Additionally, they claim that it isn't too clear whether scientific evidence supports this or not. And they move on.

But I come back around to the why of it, what is at the heart of this social phenomenon? Even the creator themself laughed at the evolutionary concept, calling evolutionary psychology "astrology for men". So, if that isn't a sufficient answer, what is?

Humans move past basic survival once they can accomplish a feeling of safety and security. I reckon that this can't be achieved alone, at least a small grouping of people is necessary to watch your back when you're at rest or occupied. Shelter becomes property once other people are involved. We start to say that "this is mine" and "this is yours" and "this is ours". And we create the rules amongst each other to respect this. We build trust and camaraderie until our closest network of people becomes our family. Typically, we find this with our blood relations, with parents who are biologically attached to us, with siblings we are raised alongside, with grandparents and aunts/uncles who watch and help us grow up. Your grandparents had the biological hardwiring to care for your parents and their siblings and now by association they build similar care for you, even if its no longer a biological process. And as centuries upon centuries have passed, family has come to mean many things, blood involved or not, but we attach this meaning of utmost security, trust and reliability unto it. Human survival, as a social species, is reliant on the building and operation of a "family", no matter how dysfunctional, no matter the size, no matter who is necessarily involved (meaning blood relation isn't necessary, although extremely typical).

Sociologically, we've created particular ideas of the family, but they do typically involve certain socially ordained sub-groupings where sexual relations are allowed. In many cultures today, this means that of a monogamous committed couple, but different groupings of different sizes can and do exist. Yet, an individual member finds their matches for their sexual sub-groupings by moving out of the family sphere and into the community, where they are allowed to move past mere safety and survival into building the self through integration with the world outside the family. Here, you build larger community with friends, coworkers, neighbors, etc. And it is also where you find sexual partners, potentially building a socially ordained sexual sub-grouping that can either absorb into or create a family.

Within the sect of the family, sexual interaction is not meant to exit those socially ordained sub-groupings. My thought is that this is to ensure our safety. I believe that the incestual taboo and our revulsion to it stems from the fact that we have built the family to be this place of ultimate security and fortitude, yet still so fragile and precarious. The sect of the family asks you to play out very specific roles and play them well, yet human fallibility shows we often fail at this. Dysfunction amongst families is common, if not nearly ubiquitous, as members fail to play their roles and force others to play the wrong ones. Outside of the socially ordained sexual sub-groupings, sexual contact is not part of these roles. Socially, we have moved sexual need from the realm of survival and into the realm of self-realization. We survive in the family and realize ourselves outside it. Something could be said for how we need to socially reorganize ourselves into accepting sexuality as a survival need and how that might change our ideas of family. But at this point, it is very socially ingrained in us to separate sexuality from family, outside of the socially ordained sexual subsects.

I figure that we are more prone to digust towards incest rather than, let's say, parentification (as another kind of family role transgression), due to both the visceral nature of it and the fears we have towards general sexuality. Again, something could be said for how our cultural views of sexuality need to be dismantled and reenvisioned and how this might change our feelings towards all kinds of sexual transgression. Even amongst consenting adults, the fear of incest is one of survival threatening role reversal, general sexual taboo, and a violation of what we consider to be nature (this is where the negative effects of inbreeding would come into play, mixed with typically religious ideas about procreation) all wrapped in one.

I did mention points where even I would agree that our cultural ideas of sexuality need to be reexamined and how they may impact our ideas of family and what sexuality can or cannot be limited to. And we are in an era where many cultural ideas, particularly around sexuality, are being questioned and revolted against. We often will hear that cultural constructs are just that, cultural inventions that served a certain purpose at a certain point in time that are not inherent to the human race. But this doesn't necessarily demean their worth. Should the social sect of the family be abolished or should it be reimagined? Should socially ordained sexual sub-groupings exist or should we find new avenues for engaging with sexuality? What will these things say about our future views of incest? I don't aim to answer these, but I leave it to you to find your own answers.

So, now I concern myself with my favorite question. Why is it this taboo in particular that has found popularity?

The video brought up how the rise in popularity of consensual incest/"fauxcest" (step-) porn happened around the time that Game of Thrones found large cultural purchase. But let me ask you this. If next month, a new show filled with necrophilia blew up "Game of Thrones style", do you think that necrophilia fantasies and porn would follow suit? I must say that I really don't think so. There is merit in that the mass exposure of the American masses to incestuous sex scenes probably helped make them aware of this as a possible fetish, but the exposure alone doesn't explain the whole of it.

I figure taboos exist on this kind of linear continuum of least taboo to extreme taboo. Different cultures will place certain things in different positions from other cultures. For Americans, consensual incest would be more on the extreme side, yet not so extreme as my earlier example of necrophilia. What I posit is that there is a "point of titillation" that is unique to the individual, rather than their culture.

Taboos create a sensational atmosphere around them and many people find themselves intrigued with some taboo or another, while rebuking others. By drawing an uncrossable line, they dare us to cross them and reap the possible rewards and/or consequences. There is a socially constructed danger that thrills and kills all the same. I think as a species, we are enamoured with the idea of transgression (to an extent), and we seek to push ourselves physically, emotionally, and psychologically, some more than others.

What I see as the "point of titillation" is a point in the linear continuum of taboo severity where the individual finds satisfaction in the idea of transgression itself, of engaging with the taboo, regardless of the content of said taboo. The proximity to the taboo, to a perceived extremity of physical/emotional/mental experience, is the core principal. This point does not engage with anything outside the near limits of it, meaning that just because someone finds satisfaction in transgression around this idea of taboo, it does not mean that they will also find satisfaction in any and every taboo that precedes it in severity. The point is only concerned with itself.

I would argue that, for those engaged with incest fantasy and pornography, their "point of titillation" is likely matched up quite well with the cultural marking of incest on the taboo severity continuum, whereas something like necrophilia is too far and thus, merely disgusting.

I believe that most people engaged with incest fantasies are not aroused by the actual idea of incest itself, but rather the transgression around it. Most of them would not be aroused by the idea of actually finding a sexual partner within their family sect and prefer to find sexual engagement in the outer community, as is socially acceptable. In this way, the "point of titillation" is not so much a demarcation of where exactly they're willing to "cross the line" but where they find intrigue in the mere idea of it.

And we come to my other point: it's quite easy.

People are intrigued by the danger of transgression, yet are either unknowledgable or negligent of how to mitigate these dangers while actually practicing the act of transgression. The kink scene is full of players who love dangerous practices and have built the proper protocols and conversational templates to create safe spaces for these transgressions to take place. They've put work and dedication into building their communities and dungeons and scenes. It takes consistent effort. But the average sexually engaged person, with partners or alone, is not particularly interested in all the non-sexy bits of safe transgressive sex. Hell, it's hard enough to get people on board with plain safe sex. They look for the easy routes to get their fix.

If you want to roleplay an incestuous encounter with a partner, it's as easy as calling them by certain titles. If you want to produce a pornographic video, it's as easy as scripting your actors to call each other certain titles. If you're looking for pornography a little more transgressive than usual but not too "out there", it's as easy as watching all the easily made incest fantasy pornographic videos flooding the sites.

A lot of fetishes and kinks take a lot of work and communication to happen safely, especially the more transgressive you go, but this is a rarer case of pretty high transgression, little danger (in the fantasy/fictional realm). For example, consensual non-consent (CNC) can be very endangering to its participants without the proper protocols and communication. Just roleplaying the fantasy of rape alone has a whole host of dangers, whereas roleplaying the fantasy of consensual incest (in cases where no engaging party has a history of the literal thing) is felt to be just another new way to spice things up.

Incest, in the American imagination, has become something to joke and gawk at. While it is still deeply taboo to many, including those who fantacize of it, it has been turned into an oddity, something those "poor Southerners" do and something that "silly" old royals used to protect the "bloodline" with. It is only real in the very fringes of society, if we ignore the CSA. It's a "funny" thing that occasionally shows up in books and movies. It's fanservice, it's fiction, it's simply "not real", if we don't want it to be. We like it because it's taboo and we don't want to talk about it more than that because it's precisely so. Afraid of our own shadow. Ask us about it past the freakshow and we'll laugh, not yet ready to discuss our real fear.

[todayisafridaynight]

aren’t we getting kiwami 3 eventually? why are some people so upset? /gen

TECHNICALLY rgg just said they'd LIKE to make a YK3, they never said it's a definite plan or it'd happen anytime soon: it depends on if mine's voice actor can come back to reprise his role

as for why some people are upset ermmmmm good question!

[shi0n]

i cant believe i interacted w all those people while they knew. and i didnt. like my existence must have been so comical and embarrassing to look at.. sorry for my drunk vent posts will happen again. me and the mutuals (neighbors) listening to music so hard from my speakers rn

[inhumanfuckingdogman]

Cautious cautious optimism about romelukas this sunday. Picture of girl checking her nails me pretending to not care abt romelukas so they fuck weird sooner

[lyknest]

.

[istherewifiinhell]

still using birthday pass for being cringe

[cough cough webbed site if we could youngest post] like whats the point of being the protected child and the outcast child. a distractor and a distraction. a problem solver who no one fucking tells anything. a mediator and a shit stirrer. learning the people who helped you or hurt you were far too young. grow into a niche of whatever was left for you to fill. break everything left cause there was no way to grow without changing how they thought of you. bend with the treatment and acquise with a resentful smile. break and explode carrying every offence. reach out knowing you may find new growth under the ruins if you can learn out to care for it.

[hangingslothcentral]

this is a fairly solid starting point for people who want to get into Planning And Scheduling

i fucking LOVE planning and scheduling but I think people dislike it because they become too rigid with it

it's no good if you're setting unrealistic goals and continually disappointing yourself

it doesn't help get shit done and makes you feel discouraged from even TRYING

methods like this, which focus on encouraging you to understand the parameters you're setting for yourself, can be a better approach to this

good planning is all about knowing what you can do and how much time you have NOT about setting big, impressive goals

Start planning 2025

Make a list of all the emotions you want to feel at the end of 2025.

Now work backwards and write down all the tasks you need to do in order to feel that way.

Make a separate list of all the “gaps” - what do you currently not have in order to do those tasks to make you feel the way you want?

And lastly, write down how you can fill those gaps. Do you need a gym membership to become fit to feel good about your yourself? Do you need to learn how to cook better meals in order to feel healthy and energised? Do you need to start applying to jobs, in order to secure one, in order to feel financially safe? Do you need to buy an old school alarm clock that’s going to wake up your entire apartment building in order to wake up early? what do you need to DO?

also, make a list of all the things that worked out for you in 2024. Learn to celebrate and appreciate, even the smallest of wins.

For the next two months start the trial and error process of this program. Let’s say you decide that you want to work out 7 days a week in order to feel good about your body. Now halfway through November you realise that 7 days is probably too much, and 5 days would be better for your schedule. Or you decide to read 3 books a week, but realistically, maybe a chapter a day is better.

November and December are your trial months. By the time January starts, be ready with a program that is built for you, works for you, and can be completed by you.

Don’t forget about keeping a reward mechanism. If you complete your daily tasks for 1 month straight, buy that little purse you were eyeing, or take yourself to a spa. Reward yourself in ways you like so that :

a) you’re not in an endless cycle of never being satisfied

b) you don’t drop everything for a man or a friend who shows you the slightest bit of affection because you won’t show it to yourself

c) it encourages you to work harder for yourself.

[todayisafridaynight]

Arakawa family brain rot: I just had the saddest thought about Masato returning from America, but from Masumi's perspective. He's prolly excited to see his son again despite the relationship tension. He's heard Masato has been doing great. His attitude has improved with his health. Maybe things will get better if he tries hard enough.

Maybe there's a chance to fix things.

And there isn't. Masato's just as vindictive and mean and manipulative as he ever was. And Arakawa finally has to mourn the son he never had. The son he told the world had died.

Do you think he ever regretted letting Masato get away with murder? Regretted that it wasn't Ichiban he still had in his life? I have a hard time with this because he loves Masato so much. I just wish he'd had the son who loved him out in the world with him y'know.

But we all know Masato ain't built for prison.

And I can't imagine like... Seeing Jo. Being relieved to see him again but immediately losing confidence because Jo looks so much more *tired* than he did. Ever together and composed but not really His Jo anymore. Not in the same way. It is never the same after he was gone so long.

I'm sure there are moments or even days where they fall into old patterns but I can't help but feel like (if Jo did in fact go to America w Masato) that that would be a defining shift in the relationship between Jo and Masumi.

Idk what this is really about but I got in my Arakawa feelings (I think be instared too long at the picture you posted). 🫰 Thanks for listening to me ramble byyyye~

EVERY DAY of my life i think of arakawa wondering if what they did regarding masato was 'the right choice'- like OF COURSE it was masato literally wouldnt have made it yet if it was the right choice why does it feel like such the wrong choice yeah...

[katsu28]

through the years

pairing: lando norris x fewtrell!reader

summary: a few glimpses into lando's journey of being in love with his best friend's sister. (5.9k) see request here!

a/n: r is three years older than max and lando. this has been a work in progress for months and was truly so so fun to write <3

sixteen

Lando’s tucking his helmet back into its protective case when he hears someone say your name.

He straightens up like he’s been electrocuted, nearly hitting his head on the shelf above him at how fast he looks up. If he had ears like a dog, they’d be perked. 

His eyes land on you chatting with someone he doesn’t recognize, and his heart skips a beat in his chest.

See, Lando has a massive crush on you, probably since before he knew what a crush was. All he knows is that you’re a few years older, his best friend’s sister, and the most perfect person he’s ever known. He’s pretty sure he’d fallen in love with you the moment he met you at one of Max’s and his races. 

But at only sixteen (nearly seventeen) years old, did he even know what love felt like?

Not really, but if Lando was being completely honest, he imagines it was the same feeling he got whenever he climbed into a kart—thrilling, exciting, a little bit of fear that he might puke. 

He hasn’t seen you in a while though. You’ve been off at university for a year now, somewhere far off, but Max had said something (read: complained) about you being home for summer break.

Lando thinks he might be more happy about it than your own brother is. 

“Hey!” Lando calls, raising a hand in greeting. You lift your sunglasses at the sound of another voice, squinting in the bright sunlight to see who’s shouting at you now. When your eyes land on him, you smile, waving back. Lando grins, one that only grows bigger as you start to make your way over to him. 

“Looked good out there today, Lan. You’re getting pretty quick on the straights,” You say on approach.

He’s had a little bit of a growth spurt this past year, so he’s no longer craning his neck to look at you, but you’ve still got quite a bit of height on him as you reach out to ruffle his hair playfully. 

“Thanks! Have you, erm, have you been here the whole time?” Lando’s voice cracks at the end of his sentence, mortifying him, but luckily you don’t seem to notice. You’re too occupied looking around the track for something, or someone. 

“Nah, I just got here, like twenty minutes ago? Mum told me to give Max a lift home.” You shrug. Lando fights the urge to let out a relieved sigh. Thank god you weren’t here to see him nearly spin out into the gravel on the last corner. That would’ve been embarrassing. “Have you seen him, by the way? I need to wring his neck.” 

A surprised honk of laughter splutters from Lando’s mouth. “What did he do now?” 

“Little shit broke one of mum’s good dinner plates and blamed it on me! S’why I’m here playing chauffeur,” You sigh, shaking your head. “Grounded during summer holidays, can you believe it? I’m basically Max’s personal shuttle, so it looks like you’re going to be seeing quite a bit of me for a while. Nightmare, innit?” 

“Not really. It’d be nice to see you around more again.” 

“You’re sweet, Lan. The punishment might be worth it to see your cute face all the time.” You wink at him, pinching his cheek gently. 

He knows you don’t mean it in the way he wants you to mean it. You still see him as just your little brother’s best friend, still a kid. But he’s older now, more mature. His voice is starting to drop, and he’s going places in his racing career by this point. He wonders if you know he’s joining McLaren’s Young Driver Programme next year. He wonders if you’d be impressed by it. 

“Hang on. I’ve got to take this, it’s my mum. Probably demanding I stop off at the shops on the way home,” You sigh, holding up your buzzing phone. “Do me a favor, be a darling and go find my idiot brother, would you?” You answered the call before he could nod, walking a ways away to talk to your mum. 

Lando remains rooted in place, watching you pace back and forth. 

“What’re you looking at?” Max pops up next to him out of the blue, bumping his shoulder rather roughly. It doesn’t phase him though, because he’s used to Max’s antics at this point. 

Instead, he sighs. “D’you think she’d ever like me?” 

“Who?” 

Lando nods his head in your direction, looking rather wistful. Max follows his friend’s line of sight until his gaze lands on you, on the phone, looking less than pleased. 

“Are you fucking with me? Please tell me you’re fucking with me,” He asks, wrinkling his nose at Lando. Even though you’re three years older than him, Max was wildly overprotective over you. Lando shakes his head. He is most definitely serious. “Mate, that’s my sister.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

“That’s disgusting.” 

Lando scoffs, giving Max a shove. “You’re disgusting.” 

“So you’re telling me that every time you’ve asked me where she’s been, what she’s been up to, it’s ‘cause you fancy her?” 

“Maybe. Yeah. I think she’s amazing.” 

“I’m gonna throw up. I’m actually going to throw up, oh my god.” 

“Don’t be dramatic.” Lando rolls his eyes, picking up his things. 

“You’re hot for my sister, how am I being dramatic? I think I’m being quite calm about this.” 

“It’s nothing, really. She probably won't ever see me as anything but a little kid.” 

“Oh, you never know. You’re getting bigger, mate. Stacking on the height, packing on the muscle.” He fakes two punches to Lando’s torso, grunting overdramatically when Lando pushes him away with another roll of his eyes. “Soon enough you won’t be able to keep the ladies off you, ya stud.” 

“Thanks? You do know we’re still talking about your sister, right?” 

“Oh. Right. Yeah, still gross.” 

“Oi, Max. Let’s go or mum’ll have my head if we don’t get home by dinner,” You grumble, reappearing behind Max and shoving him upside the head. Your gaze softens when it turns on Lando. “Bye, Lan. See you soon.”

Lando manages to get out a goodbye without his voice cracking again, thank god. He wants to go in for a hug, because part of him thinks it might lift your spirits, but knows Max would never let him hear the end of it. So he just settles for a slightly awkward wave before you turn on your heel and head for the car. 

Max rolls his eyes. Then he smiles deviously, pointing at your retreating figure with one hand and Lando with the other, before smashing them both together, all while making overexaggerated kissy noises. He seems to have forgotten his previous disgust quite easily. 

“Fuck off!” Lando hisses, flipping off his friend. 

“I’ll leave you behind, Maximillian!” You warn, not even turning around to threaten your brother. Max rolls his eyes again, but doesn't hesitate in hurrying after you so you won't leave him stranded at the track. 

Lando manages to catch your eye once as you’re pulling out of the car park and he waves again, trying but probably failing to stifle the goofy grin spreading across his face at the wave you gave him back. 

God, he’s so down bad for you. 

That year, however, the months went on, Lando found himself noticing that you came home less and less often, and not even for school breaks the following year. Max wouldn’t talk about it, but it was obvious it was somewhat of a sore subject, so Lando never pushed.

He’d always wondered what happened, but soon enough, his life became far too hectic to sit around thinking about all the what if’s and the why not’s. All he could do was hope you were doing okay. 

-------

twenty

It’s hard to believe Max is turning twenty-one.

So will Lando, later in the year, but for now he remains a very youthful looking twenty years old. 

Max invites a handful of people to a quiet dinner, nothing too flashy, nothing too fancy. Just a nice dinner with close friends and good food. His birthday sits right between race weeks, so Lando is fortunate enough to be able to carve out an evening for his best friend. 

Now he’s sitting at the end of a long table, sipping a lemon sparkling water as the first few of their friends start to trickle in. He’d arrived unfashionably early under the guise of offering to help Max iron out last minute details, set up, things like that.

In reality, the reason why he’d turned up so early was you. 

Lando doesn’t know if Max invited you, and if he did, he doesn’t know if you’d actually come. But on the off chance that you do choose to make an appearance, Lando wants to be the first one to see you. 

Naturally, he spots you the second you walk in, and he’s instantly transported back to when he was an awkward teenager, pathetically pining over his best friend’s sister with absolutely no shot.

Hell, he’s still pining over you. He thought whatever feelings he had for you would’ve faded over the years, but one look at you and everything comes rushing back. 

He thought he’d prepared himself for this, for seeing you again, but one thing that rises above all the other thoughts flooding his brain is that he’s not over you. Not by a long shot. 

He watches you make your way over to your brother and hug him. You lean in close to say something into his ear, and suddenly you’re both looking directly at him.

Lando startles, nearly spilling his drink, but he manages to compose himself quickly. That swoopy feeling he used to get whenever you made your way over to him is back in full swing again. He scrambles to his feet. 

“Hey, Lan!” You greet him keenly, wrapping him in a warm hug. Your perfume washes over him as you do, and he fights the urge to sigh happily. You still wear the same one you always did. He remembers because he’d more or less conditioned himself to associate the nice scent with you. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” 

Lando chuckles breathlessly, praying you’re not able to feel how fast his heart is beating through his shirt. “Too long.” 

You pull away, holding him at arms’ length, studying him with bright eyes. “You’re taller than me now.” 

“I’d hope so. M’not sixteen anymore.” 

“No, you’re not. You look good though, ” You say. You look like you mean it truthfully. 

“How’ve you been?”

“Been better, but I’m…getting by, all things considered.” You shrug, sliding into the chair next to him.

Both of you swing sideways to face each other at the same time, knees knocking into each other as you do. You share an apologetic smile. Your hand blankets his where it rests on the table, squeezing a few times as your eyes light up with excitement. 

You aren’t aware of just how much that one little move affects Lando. 

“But what about you, McLaren’s newest Formula One driver? That’s so amazing. Seriously. I’m proud of you.”  

He’s heard the compliment loads during his rookie year, but hearing it come from you makes his cheeks flush pink. He can feel the comfort of your words spreading from his face into his chest, tendrils of warmth wrapping around his rib cage. You’re proud of him, and it feels like he’s just won the world championship. 

“Thank you,” He squeaks. 

“I always knew you’d do great things.” 

“You’ve been keeping up with my career?” 

“‘Course I have,” You say warmly, nodding like it’s obvious. “It’s not everyday you can say you’ve known one of the up and coming talents of Formula 1 since you were kids.” 

“We’ve come a long way since then, haven’t we?” 

“You, yeah. Me…well, let’s just say I’m still trying to figure things out.” 

“You’re doing the best you can, aren’t you? Shouldn’t that be all that matters?” 

“I suppose you’re right. Thank you, Lan. I needed to hear that.” 

Silence stretches between the two of you, and Lando feels the need to break it. 

“Y’know, I didn't know if you’d come. Since…y’know, whatever’s been going on all this time.” He doesn’t mean to prod, doesn’t mean it as anything other than him drawing a huge blank about why you haven’t been around. 

Your expression still grows somber, brows creasing ever so slightly. “Max hasn’t told you anything?” 

“Seemed like a sore subject, so I never pushed.” 

“You must have a lot of questions then.” You murmur, tracing an idle finger over the pristine white table cloth. “About why I’ve been basically nonexistent for years.” 

“I don't need to know. You’re here now, that's all that matters.” 

“Y’know, you’ve always been so thoughtful, Lando. When we were all kids and Max was being…well, Max, you were always looking out for me, even though you didn’t have to.” 

“I cared about you. Still do.” 

It’s true. Lando cares about you in more ways than one, in more ways than just your little brother’s best friend should, but it isn’t something that he can help. You’ve still got him wrapped around your finger without even knowing it. 

“So sweet.” You smile, squeezing his hand appreciatively, and Lando feels like he’s just been shown a new purpose. He wants to be the one to make you smile like this all the time, something he’s known in his heart for years. “So, tell me more about you. What’s it like in the big leagues?” 

You wind up spending all night glued to each other’s side, filling one another in on what’s been going on in your lives since the last time you saw each other. Granted, it’s a bit more of him doing most of the talking with you on the listening end, but he gets the sense you’d rather have it that way. 

He’ll gladly talk for hours if it meant you looking at him with the pride in your eyes you’ve had the whole night. 

Eventually, the party rolls to an end, as all good nights unfortunately do. Lando wants to stay here, stay with you, but he can’t. He’s got an early morning and a day full of training tomorrow, so he’ll settle for walking you to your car after you’ve both said goodbye to Max. 

You’ve got your arm looped through his as you make your way out of the restaurant with the rest of the dinner guests. 

“This one’s me.” You jut your chin at the car coming up. If Lando isn’t mistaken, you almost sound kind of sad, but maybe he’s just looking too much into things because he doesn't want to leave. You leave his side, putting a little bit of distance between the two of you. “Thank you for keeping me company all night, Lando. It was really nice to see you again.” 

“Likewise. I’ve…” He trails off into an airy chuckle, shoulders creeping towards his shoulders instinctively. For a moment, he wonders if he should even say anything. “I’ve missed you.” 

“I missed you too,” You say softly, giving him a small smile. Lando feels his chest tighten at the sincerity in your tone. Then you step forward and wrap your arms around his neck in a hug and suddenly he’s just about ready to melt as his arms slide around you to return the embrace. 

He isn’t expecting your lips against his cheek, or the way they linger a little longer than to be expected before you step away again. Heat blooms where you kiss him, zipping through his veins like the thrill of pushing the highest speed down the home straight towards the checkered flag. 

“Don’t forget about me when you get to be a big hot shot in the racing world,” You say, only slightly teasing. 

“Don’t think I could.” 

He watches you get into your car and drive away, hands in his pockets, wishing he was brave enough to tell you how he feels about you. Some other time, maybe. One day he’ll muster up the confidence to say something. 

-------

twenty four

No matter how many times Lando comes home to race at Silverstone, the feeling never goes away.

A mix of joy, pride, the unmistakable vice-like grip of anxiety. Lando is excited, no doubt, but all he wants to do is make his home crowd proud. His family is here, his friends are here. Everyone is counting on him to do something amazing.

He’s got a hundred things to do before he has to head down to the garage to gear up, a methodical mental checklist to get through in not a lot of time.

Buzzing with nervous energy, he paces the top level of the motorhome, amping himself up while also trying to calm himself down. He’s barely managed to eat anything all day, as evident by the basically untouched chicken wrap sitting on the table next to him. 

Sure, he’s raced at Silverstone before, but this is the first year he actually has a shot at winning the whole thing. The car has proved to be a speed demon, and he’s been killing it this season, but neither of those help his nerves. 

It makes his stomach twist more than anything. It’s one thing to not win because he doesn't have the facilities to do it, it's entirely worse to know he can win and still let everyone down. 

“Well, if it isn’t little Lando Norris.” 

He freezes at the unexpected voice. Your voice.

His mind flashes back to the last time he saw you, at Max’s birthday party. How you talked all night, and kissed him on the cheek before you parted ways. 

It’s been three years since then, and you’ve stayed in close touch with each other, but you haven’t seen each other in person since that night. It isn’t either of your faults—life got in the way and neither of yours lined up. Nonetheless, he’s grown closer to you these past few years than he ever has, which definitely doesn’t help the massive crush he still has on you. 

Part of him thinks he really needs to move on—he’s been in love with you for so many years he doesn’t even remember the exact number, but his feelings remain the same. Any relationship he’s tried to have, just to see if he could ever love someone else, has never lasted.

Lando thinks he might be stuck on you his whole life, if the entirety of his teenage years and first few of his young adult years have been any indication. 

He’s very prone to wanting things he can’t have, it seems. 

Lando gives his head a shake because it couldn’t be you. You couldn’t be here, because last he heard from Max, you were somewhere out of the country on a work trip and wouldn’t be able to make it to Silverstone for the race. It’s a bummer for sure, but Lando knows you would've come if you could. Max told him you sounded downright upset about it on your check in call earlier in the week to break the news. 

He turns slowly, hesitantly. Hopefully. His fingers tighten on the water bottle he’s got clutched in his hands. 

There you are, looking back at him like something straight out of his dreams. 

You’re older now, as he is too, but there’s something different about you. About how you hold yourself. Like you've finally settled into the person you were meant to be. It isn’t something he could’ve clocked in on through texts and grainy video calls, but he sees it now, clear as day. 

“Hi.” 

“You’re here,” He breathes, disbelieving. He isn’t able to stop himself from rushing forward, bringing you into a very tight, very excited hug that lifts you off your feet.

You let out a surprised noise at his enthusiasm, barely managing to hook an arm over around his shoulders so you wouldn’t go flailing as he spins you around.

He puts you down soon after, still beaming as he takes you in. “How are you here? I thought—Max said you were on a work trip!” 

“I asked him to keep it a secret,” You chuckle, spreading a palm across his chest to steady yourself. “Wanted to surprise you for your home race. Hope that’s okay?” 

“More than okay! It’s so good to see you again,” He insists, folding you into another, albeit much quicker hug. He holds you at arm's length right after. “You look really good.” 

“I feel good,” You say sincerely. “Think I’m finally getting the hang of this whole life thing.” 

“That’s amazing. I’m proud of you for pushing through, sticking it out,” Lando murmurs, just as genuine. There’s nothing better than seeing you finally find a good place, happy with where you are and what you’re doing. It’s all he’s ever wanted for you. 

“Thank you. But oh my god, look at you!” You exclaim, taking his face in your hands. You pinch his cheeks the same way you used to do, but the way you’re looking at him feels much different than before.

There’s something that isn’t quite the same, like something about what you think of him has changed. The thought burrows its way deeper into his brain when one hand slides down to his chest for a few beats.

“You’ve grown up quite a bit again, haven’t you?” 

He laughs, a little high pitched and a little breathless. “Yeah well, you know what they say about second puberty.” 

“Still got the same cute laugh though.” You smile at him brightly, and it's like the sun has just poked its way through the dreary British fog for the first time in ages. His heart does an involuntary tap dance against his ribcage. “Right, well, I’ll leave you to it then. Sorry if I, like, disturbed your pre-race rituals or anything, I just wanted to pop in and say hi before things get crazy.” 

“No, no, I’m glad you did. I think I needed to see a familiar face. Between you and me, I’m kinda freaking out.” 

“Oh, Lan,” You sigh, squeezing his hand. “You’re gonna do great.”

“Hope so.” 

“You will,” You insist firmly. “Don’t think about the people, don’t think about the crowd. Just trust your gut, and drive like hell.” 

Lando didn’t know it before, but your words are exactly the thing he needs right now. He sighs deeply, letting his shoulders relax just the slightest bit. 

“Anyways, I better go. Max is probably wondering where I’ve wandered off to.” 

He clears his throat, giving his head a little shake. “Yeah, I should—I probably need to get going as well.” 

“Good luck, be safe, all that. I’ll be the loudest one cheering you on.” 

Lando hears himself call out your name when you’re a few steps away from the door. You turn back to him, and he knows this is the moment. He’s about to do something he’s never had the balls to do before, never in the nine years he’s been in love with you. Only today, right here, he’s never felt more sure of himself. 

He’s trusting his gut. 

“Would you wanna grab a drink tonight? Dinner too, if you’re up for it?” 

“Yeah, ‘course! I’ll text my brother, see if he’s free.” 

“No,” He blurts. You arch a surprised brow at his sudden outburst. “Sorry, I just—I meant like, maybe just the two of us.” 

You’re quiet for a few moments, and it feels like the longest couple seconds of his life. But then you nod, breaking into a big grin. “I’d really like that.”

Lando doesn’t want to get his hopes up in fear of possibly jinxing it, but it feels like maybe, just maybe, he might have a chance with you. After all these years, he’s no longer just a little kid to you, no longer just your little brother’s best friend.

The thought of that pumps him up better than a race in front of his home crowd ever could.

-------

twenty five

He’s done it. 

Lando's just won in Abu Dhabi, gotten his fourth win of his career—his fourth win of the season. McLaren has just won the constructor’s championship for the first time in twenty six years, and Lando’s been an instrumental part in making it happen. 

The moment he steps out onto the front of the car, hears the crowd cheering for him, he can barely even believe it. It doesn’t feel real at all. 

He wants to find you. He knows you’re here somewhere, probably with his family in the garage. He also knows he doesn’t have the time to find you, not until after he’s taken care of his post race duties. 

Lando doesn't see you until he returns to the pit lane in front of the McLaren garage.

The whole team is gathered there, chattering excitedly amongst themselves. He can feel the energy buzzing through the atmosphere, the pure excitement and joy of a long awaited championship not only for everyone here, but the whole team of papaya back at the factory too. 

This is their time as much as it is his, if not even more. They’re the reason he’s able to live this dream every single day, and for that, he’ll never be able to say enough thank yous. 

Instead, he’ll work even harder next season, keep pushing and honing his craft until he’s able to truly show his gratitude towards them. 

But for now, he’ll celebrate. After a long, grueling (but fulfilling) season, he’s earned that. 

He breaks into a jog towards the huddle, breaking into a face-splitting grin as he jumps into the team celebrations happily. Person after person clap him on the back on his way to his place beside the giant papaya sign, even after the team photo is taken and he gets doused by champagne from all sides. 

Lando feels like a million bucks. This feeling has been a long time coming, a long time needed. If he could bottle it up and save it forever, he would. 

There’s only one thing that could make this moment even better. 

He turns to the crowd behind the barriers, searching, searching, searching for his loved ones until— 

There you are, standing with his family just as he’d thought you’d be, cheering so hard he thinks you might even be crying. 

Man, are you a sight for sore eyes. You’ve both been busy the past few weeks, him with this triple header and you with your job. You’d barely made it to this race, but he’s happy you’re here. Even happier you were here to see him win. 

He makes his way towards you all, doling out hugs to everyone, not able to wipe the smile from his face as he chats with each of them. 

His parents, his sister, and finally…you. 

You’re beaming just as big as he is when he stops in front of you, flinging your arms around his neck in the tightest hug. He lets out a sigh of content, lifting you off your feet a bit in a hug just as tight, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he does so. 

“Hi, baby,” He breathes, running his hands down from your shoulders to your forearms as soon as he puts you down again. “What’d you think?” 

“What do I think?” You exclaim, taking his face in your hands. “I think you did amazing! I think I’ve cried, like, four times already since the race ended, honestly.” 

He laughs, wrapping his fingers around your wrists. “I made you cry?” 

“Yeah, you made me cry, you muppet! I’m so fucking proud of you,” You tell him, sounding nothing but truly sincere. There’s tears in your eyes again, happy tears for him, and he feels a surge of adoration bloom in his chest. “Congratulations, Lan. You’re destined for so much greatness, I know it.” 

He’s sweaty, sticky, and doused in champagne, but he still feels on top of the world at the joy in your eyes.

“I love you,” He blurts. He couldn’t have stopped the words spilling from his mouth even if he tried. 

Maybe it’s the adrenaline, maybe it’s knowing there’s no better time than the present, but it’s out there now. The past five months you’ve been dating have been absolutely mint, but Lando doesn’t think he could’ve gone another moment without telling you. 

You let out a watery sort of chuckle, sliding a hand into the hair at the nape of his neck and bringing him in for a kiss.

You’ve kissed before—a lot, actually—but this one feels different. Better. The giant secret that he’s been holding in from you for years and years is finally out, and it’s like a weight lifted off his chest. 

“I love you too, Lan,” You murmur, words pressed against his lips like they're something reserved only for him. “God, I love you.” 

There goes his heart right then, the last piece of his heart that he’d saved for the day he wasn’t sure would ever come. The last piece of his heart that belonged to him now belongs to you, and in this moment, you’ve got all of it. 

All of Lando’s heart is now yours. 

Lando didn’t think this day could get any better, but now there’s this. The woman of his dreams, the one he’s been in love with since you were both kids, finally loves him back.

He’s not sure what heaven is like, but Lando imagines it might be something like this.

Here, under the Abu Dhabi sky, he’s gotten the championship, he’s finally gotten his girl. To him, there’s nothing better than it. 

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[daydreamdoodles]

No more thinking ever!!!!!! (Proceeds to think harder and worse than ever before)

[txttletale]

what’s to incentivize people to make art if not for copyright? you might point out that creatives often don’t own their own work, they are paid a wage by a company who owns the IP. but even still, they are only paid that wage at all because the company is incentivized to pay people to make art that they can sell. in a world with no copyright laws, how would people make money off creative works? in a world where people can’t make money off creative works, would we have any art aside from passion projects? would that be a good thing?

i recognize that i’m probably wrong, but please consider explaining why (even though i know you probably have a really funny dunk on the stupid anon locked and loaded).

i mean, just frankly, i struggle to think of any great work of art that's happened because of the profit motive, rather than because somebody wanted to make it, with the need to monetize it hanging around its neck like an albatross. there's a reason why "cash grab" is a perjorative, innit. i think 'passion project' describes essentially all art that's actually worth a damn -- whether it's a blockbuster film that makes billions or a tgirl's edgy poetry that gets 10 notes, every piece of art that's any good has been made because someone (or several someones) wanted it to exist.

moreover, the world i advocate for is not a capitalist world with copyright laws cleanly snipped out, affecting nothing else, but a socialist world, in which people are free to create art without having to worry about it paying the rent. the entire capitalist mode of production is a decidedly bad thing if you want to see more art, interesting art, thoughtful art, good art!

[jellyfemmedyke]

is it just me or is the "trans guys are just some boring guys and they make lame music and trans women are cool and interesting and make loud music" jokes almost like. an excuse for why theres not that many trans guys who are popular content creators or musicians or actors or authors or what have you. like blaming the invisibility of trans men on being "boring" and therefore not doing anything rather than oppression.

not to mention the example of music being that people have heard of one singular trans guy who works in a genre they dont like [people really love to act like cavetown is like specifically bad or cringe but thats just what most indie pop/rock/folk sounds like] and theyve heard of a handful of trans women who make hyperpop that they already like [and laura jane grace of course] and its really telling on themselves. theres trans guys making hyperpop and trans women making ""lame ukulele music"" and both of them and nonbinary people making music of tons of other genres. like. cmon. it reminds me of xkcd 385.

also i dont think these jokes are intentionally malicious or anything [most of the time] but it also feels sort of weird to be joking about how boring a group of marginalized people are. im not going to act like its the biggest deal in the world but its sort of low level bullying, innit? and i imagine having this weird expectation to be "cool and interesting" isnt fun for trans women either. its nice to get to be lame sometimes.

Yeah it's super weird, especially because it's repeated over and over, that part is the suspicious part. I even saw it on reddit a few days ago in one of the ftm subs. I do think it's like blaming the lack of trans men artists on trans men being "boring" instead of, you know the bigotry, the erasure, the inequality I think it's also a weird expectation that we all HAVE to live up to what other people think of as "cool" like if we're all not making hardcore metal and being as "SICK" as humanly possible, we are failing at transgender music and therefore are the reason trans men aren't represented as artists enough, which is ummm. okay.

why can't we make soft love songs about being bugs, or whatever. What happens to trans women who don't live up to the metal hardcore aesthetic? Look at Dylan Mulvaney. She made a dumb cutsie girlypop song and everyone acted like she is the founder of misogyny herself. So not only are we ridiculed for the music we make, we're trapped in transphobic expectations of what music we can or should make.

If you expect all trans women to make metal, you'll only see trans women who make metal, if you expect all trans men to make soft music, that's all you'll find! because that's all you looked for! Another thing is like, Oh all trans women music is cool and hardcore rock and roll, but trans men music is dumb and cutsie ukulele music? I wonder what gender those genres are normally associate with? Uhoh we're doing a sexism maybe the person making the joke doesn't have malicious intent, but the joke itself sure does.

[phagodyke]

a solid 70-80% of the quotes I have saved on my phone are abt feeling unreal or unsure of ur own existence and the accompanying incessant loneliness that causes. this could mean nothing