#fuck this

[imawitchywitch]

Me, doing my silly little crafts, trying not to fall into a hopeless abyss:

[blanchebees]

Big knight enjoying the shade

Tip jar

[sams44m]

We are literally being robbed of a proper teammate title battle, and I am sick of it. Remember last year when both McLaren drivers were actively hunting each other down for poles and wins? Sure, luck fluctuated, but this is a different story. I live for intense teammate rivalry mixed with a third-party title fight, and this year looked perfect. Mercedes and Lewis, this is everything! but Mercedes’ sheer incompetence and unreliability are completely killing the fight.

What makes it ten times worse is their blatant lack of accountability. Publicly dismissing your driver when he says something is wrong with the car? Tell me this isn't clown behaviour? All it does is fuel the fire for the media and toxic fans to question his abilities instead of addressing the literal issues.

If the issues happened three times in ten races? Fine. New regulations, shit happens. But we're talking every. single. weekend. The moment one fire is put out, and another one starts. It’s not just a "he'll bounce" back. I've seen pure dominance when his car was fine. It's not a matter of this car doesn't suit his driving style. It’s pure negligence. This is arguably the most crucial season of his career. He is finally fighting for a championship, and the team is dragging their feet to fix or at least discover the issue? I know the team works hard, but does working hard pay off?

Instead of trusting the driver who is actually feeling the car on track, they blame him. The media and fans eat it up because looking at actual data is too much work for them, only for the team to quietly admit weeks later that shocker the driver was right all along it WAS ON US MY BAD.

Look at the other side of the garage. When their driver complain, the team doesn't question his driving style they rush to find what's wrong and fix it. There is actual trust and urgency there they're aware this isn't just any other season where all they care about is scoring podiums and a couple of wins and it's a season in which they have a huge chance in battling and winning the championship, which is why they’re running away with it. The other garage has the exact same resources, so what is the excuse? This goes beyond incompetence.

I don’t remember Z*k Br*wn last year ever jumping on the radio to publicly dismiss his drivers' complaints, but he still gets his fair share of criticism.

And don't even get me started on the absolute lack of support. I will never forget Monaco when he fought on his OWN, or Canada where he literally DNFed from the lead and as far I'm aware of they couldn't figure out the cause, yet when Kimi DNFed in Barcelona before Austria they knew why and fixed the whole car to prevent it from ever happening. This is ridiculous.

[bittersweetlyblue]

rafe cameron x reader angst

you've always hated how much rafe drank.

you knew it was inevitable when you guys started dating. but when he had came up to your doorstep with flowers and that smile you couldnt ever resist the day he asked you out, it was the furthest thing from your mind that you had to deal with it.

but tonight was the last straw.

you two had attended toppers party together by figure eight. but within minutes, just as you announced to your boyfriend that you needed to pee, his pupils blew wide and he mumbled something about finding kelce before walking off.

hoping he'd find you, you stayed in the area and talked to kiara, who you hadnt seen in ages. "hey, kie."

her eyebrows shot up in a pleasant surprise when she saw you, "oh hey y/n, long time no see!"

"how are you?"

"good, good." she grinned, "hows you and rafe?"

the truth? horrible. last night you found him sniffing a line despite your argument with him an hour before where he then promised to stop doing drugs. instead, you just plastered on a fake smile. "fine."

"okay, well," she looked over her shoulder, "we havent hung out in ages. the whole group misses you." the unspoken problem being rafe hung in the air before she cleared her throat. "see you around."

"see you." you echoed, then turned to go find rafe.

inside, the smell of whiskey hit before you even saw him. turning left, you saw rafe slouched against the corner while laughing with kelce, a half-empty bottle glinting under the kitchen light. for a second, you dont do anything, just watch rafe — it’s like watching someone you love drown slow.

“rafe.” your voice cut through the chatter. he turned and for a moment, you saw the spark of recognition, the man you fell for, behind the fog of alcohol.

kelce looked over his shoulder, and even though he was drunk there was no mistaking the annoyance in your gaze. saying something under his brewath, he excused himself, leaivng you to talk to rafe alone.

"hey, baby," rafe said, turning, ready to curl his arm around your waist. but you shove him off, and you already feel the tears coming. "hey whats wrong?"

"you said last night that youd stop. you know how much i hate it when you drink." you said, but you hated how much it sounded like you was whining. youd already told him so many times why you hated when anyone drank — because it reminded you of your father.

"yeah sorry." rafe said, trying to rest his forehead against yours. under any other circumstances, youd sigh and lean yours back, but you just about had enough.

"baby," he whined as you had to bite your bottom lip from crying. "its not that big of a deal."

"you think it’s not that big of a deal that you promised me you’d stop, that you’d try, and now i find you drunk, laughing like it’s nothing?!”

rafe flinched, but you could tell he wouldnt even remember the whole conversation when he woke up tomorrow. "i said i’d try. come on, y/n, it’s just—”

"no, rafe. im not doing this anymore with you."

"you'll come back anyways," he mumbled under his breath into the cup.

you paused in your tracks, and he swallowed when he noticed. rafe loved you — he really, truly, did, but his temper always got the best of him. he was exactly like his father like that.

"what?" you hissed, noticing several people now watching the interaction.

"you always talk about," he gulped the rest of the whiskey down, slamming it onto the counter, "leaving me, but we all know you cant."

"really?" hurt swelled in your chest. "well, guess what. we're over."

several gasps rung out on the eavesdropping crowd. you and rafe were known for being in love, for being the ultimate power couple and here the pair was, breaking up infront of half of the kooks eyes.

something flared in his eyes. "like fuck we are."

you didn't deign a reply and instead turned for the door. within seconds, rafe yanked you back so hard you nearly felt your arm break as you twisted into his chest.

"ow, rafe, that hurt!"

he didn't acknowledge that. "we're not over."

"and doing that makes it better for you?" you snapped. "we are over. dont talk to me again."

"no." now the pleading was in his tone. "no, y/n —"

"i can't do this!" you shouted, yanking his grip off you. "ive told you my reasons why and yet you still ignore all of them. ive given you excuse after excuse," your voice cracked and you could feel the tears now burning your eyes, the ones you refused to fall, "and ive let you prove yourself, but that whole —"

"get the fuck over it." he deadpanned, "how do you think it is for me?"

"how can you make this about yourself right now?"

"did you ever ask me why i drink?" he retorted, running his hand through his curtain bangs. "or how —"

"and did you ever tell me?"

"you never asked!" he shouted, so loudly you jerked slightly. seeing the motion, rafe stepped closer, hand coming to brush your shoulder to which you shook it off.

"no." you said simply. "we're over."

hurt that you were leaving him — his girlfriend of two years — but also his brain being slightly foggy, he shook his head, "fuck you. dont say i didnt warn you when you come back crawling to me."

jaw open, you wouldnt let him get the last hit, "yeah and you wont because youre exactly like your father. arrogant bastard."

he spun around so quickly you reeled backwards. "oh yeah? what about yours? quite the pair we were, huh?"

you felt the tears run down your cheeks before you ran out the house. you hated that you hurted him.

but little did you know that he had hated how he'd made you flinch. he'd scared you. and that was quite possibly the worst thing he'd ever done.

© BITTERSWEETLYBLUE. do not copy, translate, edit my work then claim it as your own, attempt to plagarise or repost it on any other website nor feed into AI. you will be blocked.

[co0l7ne3rdy]

the nolan's odyssey trailer killed any kind of hope that was left in my soul, i call this now "hollywoodslop", a movie made half assed to go to theatres and make a shit tone of money because of the director's name and the title of the film.

also… WHO THE FUCK ARE THOSE PEOPLE?? IN WHICH BOOK DOES ODYSSEUS DEAL WITH SOME GOOFY ASS MEDIEVAL KNIGHTS??

[ninamodaffari]

hey guys new level of hell just dropped

[unlovablelover]

too pretty...

his ragged breathing scorched your ear as he held you in place, strong arms entrapping your waist. "too pretty," he panted, hips moving in slow yet deep strokes. each thrust was calculated, meant to savor every inch of your warmth.

"can't believe a pretty thing like you belongs to me," he lets out a low growl, punctuating each word with a particularly forceful plunge. "all mine."

his pace remained unhurried, but it intensified with each passing moment. he drove into you with unrestrained vigor, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the dim space. his mind slipped deeper, your warmth pulling him under like a dream he never wanted to end. but this was real, and somehow just as exhilarating.

his grip tightened, making you gasp out a breath as he picked up speed. the wet squelching was music to his ears, your moans harmonizing with the sound. he can't help but sing along with his own hushed grunts, voice cracking when he spews out those choked gasps you love.

"h-hold still. mmhn, fuck, just a little more-"

your hands scrambled to rest on his shoulders, the pitch of your voice turning higher when he hits that spot deep within you. and of course, he makes it his mission to keep hitting it - each hit made your walls tighten around him, until you came with a loud squeal.

"holy s-shit! yeah, that's the fucking stuff-" he holds his position as he explodes, hot spurt after spurt flooding into your insides. he forces himself to give you one last thrust, a faint breathy chuckle slipping past his lips.

"mmhn, fuck, that's my pretty thing." he gently swipes away the tears of overstimulation trickling down your cheeks, peppering your face with soft kisses to make up for it. "always so good for me, so eager to take it all."

he lets you collapse against him, cradling your trembling body in his arms. then, just before your eyes flutter shut, he presses a kiss to your temple - whispering the "i love you" you hear so rarely. his grip tightens slightly, just enough to let you know he's not going anywhere. tonight, he'll stay - he'll stay warm, and you'll stay his.

taglist: @addicted2tomura