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I may be going a little insane my GAWD

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This is art.

The Bear, S2E9, Omelette // If Beale Street Could Talk, James Baldwin

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me waiting on sydcarmy to be real

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Woke up today, felt like starting a fight.

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AO3 being down is like burning the Bibliothèque of Alexandria for fanfics

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*screaming in michael scott’s voice*

WHERE ARE THE SYDCARMY FANFICSSSS

WHERE ARE THEEEYYYYY

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If there's a chance to ship a woman of color with a beloved & gatekept male lead because there's amazing chemistry between the two, I'm gonna ship it... even if everyone hates me.

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Why always?

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Now, I’m not saying that more people would notice that Sydney and Carmy definitely have a bit of a work crush situation going on if Sydney was a white women.

But, I’m not not saying that if Sydney had blonde hair and blue eyes then “The Bear Shouldn’t have romance” would be a less popular take.

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From time

Story: You (y/n) and Richarlison are starting a thing but a message may tear this beginning down. // I didn’t intend to make a part 2 but it got too long. // it involves Drake and Pierre Gasly because 🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️

+16 / cursing

Ps: I wrote this directly on the Tumblr app!! Not revised at all. English is not my first language. Feedback is appreciated.

🫶🏾✨🫀 welcome to my wicked mind ✳️✏️📯

You were taking a nap with Richarlison when his phone beeped a message. Then two messages. You’re a light sleeper so it bothered you. You reached out to the phone and saw two messages by someone named Juliana. You smoothly placed the phone in front of his face to get his ID and the phone unlocked.

You opened the messages and there she was: a semi nude picture and the “what time you’re arriving tonight?” text. You gulped and felt tears dwell on your eyes but took a deep breath. Richarlison was sleeping heavily because it was a quick nap time after he came back from training.

You got up from the sofa and made your way to the bedroom on the first floor. The tears involuntary started streaming down your face. “I can’t believe he’s still talking to that bitch” you mouthed to yourself while packing your things the way you could and as quick as possible. By the time Richarlison woke up, you were gone.

You managed to book a hotel room for the night before taking the train from London to Paris. It’d be impossible to book a flight and everything was just wrong: you managed to find two days off from work to go to London to spend some quality time with your boyfriend. Ok, you weren’t official, like real official. But everyone knew about you, you had met his friends and even was known by other Tottenham WAGs*.

The thing was you worked with Formula 1 and tried to find peace spaces within the hectic schedule to be with Richarlison, but clearly he didn’t think of you dearly because that message? The semi nude from another chick? All the time he reassured that he was only with you. Come on.

You tried to rationalize the feelings but listening to the saddest love songs back to Paris wasn’t helping. You messaged your friend Pierre Gasly asking if he were in Paris and he said yes immediately. You explained that your “thing” broke your heart, which made Pierre very mad because he knew how hard you fell for Richarlison.

When you arrived at the hotel in Paris, all you could do was crying your heart out while hugging a pillow, letting out all your insecurities on those tears, letting your mind wonder what was wrong.

“I hate my body, I hate my hair, why I’m not perfect like them?” You whined while sobbing. This moment, a message beeped on your phone. It was Pierre.

- Vamo pra revoada* (Let’s party hard) - he wrote. You laughed. Pierre’s journey with learning Portuguese started exactly with carioca funk and it was a funny one to watch. He called you.

“Ay, you good? So, there’s this party tonight and I’m taking you with me. Go beautiful like always” he said. He didn’t even notice your crying voice. But you managed to confirm that you were going.

Time to recover.

You stood up and opened your suitcase. The music on your airpods was cut again by a call. It was Richarlison. You didn’t answer. Only hours later he realized you were gone? Come the fuck on.

Phone on airplane mode and Drake on the speakers now, you started to get ready. You put on a beautiful brown constructed corset that hugged your boobs tightly with your favorite low rise Levi’s jeans and heels with straps around the jeans. You nailed the make up, with a clean girl aesthetics face but with a lot of bronzer, ombré lips and Dior lipgloss. Everything was on point. You looked at yourself in the mirror realizing that it was difficult to hide de eye bags of crying and tiredness. You decided to snap a lot of selfies and a video lip syncing to Jimmy Cooks by Drake. It was a full photoshoot by yourself. The you posted the video of you lip syncing on Tiktok and a carousel of pictures + the video on Instagram with the caption “Honestly, nevermind”.

A few minutes later, Pierre arrived at the hotel. You didn’t realize the many messages Richarlison had sent you. They were spamming your messages app. A lot of missed Whatsapp calls.

“I couldn’t give a shit” you told yourself knowing very well you cared so much about him that it’d take 5 seconds of his voice to go back to him, no matter the excuse he gave you. But you weren’t just ready to be replaced by the woman he swore he was not talking to anymore. The message she had sent came to your mind and then you remembered you were better than this.

You left your room and met Pierre on the hall. He said nothing when he saw you, stunned by your beauty. You two left for the party.

——-

Back in London, when Richarlison woke up, he thought you were in the kitchen preparing some food, like you always did when you were there.

You weren’t in the kitchen. Nor in the bedroom. You were nowhere to be found and your suitcase and all your things weren’t there either.

He ran downstairs to grab his phone and call you. When he unlocked it, the screen was opened exactly on the message he received from Juliana. The semi nude, the text. He gulped. “Y/N saw it for fucking sure”. He didn’t know whether to ask Juliana what the fuck was going on or to call you and know where you were. He did neither. He called his cousin.

“Bro I’m so sure she saw it, like what the fuck” he said on the phone, rubbing his hand back and forth on his scalp.

“Are you sure she saw it? Like, Y/N was supposed to travel back to Paris today cause she’s gotta go back to…” his cousin answered.

“Nah she saw it. The screen was on the message. How did she unlock my phone? She doesn’t have the code tho” Richarlison started to think properly.

“I don’t know, but bro let it go. You weren’t official anyways” his cousin stated. Richarlison scoffed, pretending to not care.

“Yeah, I’ll call you later” then hung up. He laid on his back on the sofa and messaged Juliana. “We need to talk”.

In a matter of minutes, she was in his house. He was wearing his Nike set of sweatpants and hoodie, hands on his pockets and walking around nervously.

“I knew you were longing for me” she said, approaching him and putting her hands on the back of his neck.

“You cannot text me things like that” he coldly stated. She took a step back, confused. “I’ve…” he paused, going around the kitchen counter to be as far from her as possible. “It’s not right, ok? Not for you, not for me. Just let’s move on separately, ok?”

“Why’s that all of sudden? Cause last week you were on my DMs asking if I were in London…” she told with her finger pointed to his face.

“I’ve met someone. I met her two months ago and we’re getting serious. Look, I know it’s my-“ he was saying but was interrupted.

“You texted me last week” she scoffed.

“I’m sorry, Juliana but-“

“Fuck you, for real” she said and left.

Richarlison took a deep breath and opened a bottle of wine. Who cared if the season was about to start and he had to be in great shape? He wanted to forget everything. Then it was time to call you.

He sent a message first. “Where are you? I’m worried.” You didn’t answer. Phone out of reach. He tried whatsapp calls. Nothing came from you. He knew you saw the picture and the message and as far as he knew you, it would be a big deal.

You weren’t like the other girls that came around. They were about sex, instagram stories, shallow dialogues, controlling him to dismiss the others. You came around and showed him places in London he didn’t know. The Italian restaurant of your first date was one of those. You cooked for him too, played FIFA with him even though you were terrible at it, sang pagode, taught him English through pop music, never made him do things “because you’re rich now”, had the same sense of humor, let him be him, cuddled him, listened to him, understood him… all of that in such a short time.

Where were you?

Hours later, his cousin sent him a message.

“Ay that ain’t your lil girl?” And he sent an instagram link of your post.

He saw the pictures one by one then the video. You were sexy, confident, beautiful. The lips of yours he missed on his. Your curvy body and juicy boobs under those clothes. The sassy attitude he loved on the low. One thing he noticed was the unusual amount of likes. Almost 300,000. And a comment by Drake himself.

———

“Drake commented on my fucking post!” You screamed to Pierre. You sent a screenshot to your friend Hannah, who was in Amsterdam, and she video called you right away.

“GIRL!” She screamed on the other side. You were trembling and giggling, your hands sweating and a face in disbelief

Comment: @/champagnepapi: major 🔥👨🏽‍🦯

You couldn’t believe it. Drake noticed you. Suddenly your heartbreak seemed so insignificant. You were that bitch.

Lies.

When you got back to the hotel, you took it all off and started crying again. On your phone, multiple calls from Richarlison laid on your screen. Rubbing your eyes, you felt your phone buzzing again. It was him. You answered it.

“What do you want?” You said, with a raspy voice.

All you heard was Richarlison’s breath on the other side of the phone. And you heard a knock on your hotel door.

To be continued.

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My first Richy fic

Ok, things you need to know:

1. This fic was written first in Portuguese. I don't feel comfortable in posting in Portuguese, but if you'd like to read it Portuguese, let me know 'cause I can post it.

2. I like to write in first person, this is one of those. 

3. +18 /sexual themes, high graphic description 

🥘🎶💓 welcome to my wicked mind 🐦⚓️💕

Richarlison left the room following the delicious smell of lunch being cooked in the kitchen. He tried to guess where that cuisine came from, which didn't smell Brazilian or English.

"Good morning my love!" I said with a wide smile on my face, stirring a pot with a bunch of vegetables inside.

"What are you doing this morning? I thought you were still sleeping, but I woke up and you weren't in bed." he commented as he opened the fridge and took out a jar of green juice, drinking straight from the top of the bottle.

"For fuck sake Richarlison, that's fucked up! Grab a glass to drink the juice, please!" I complained, throwing the dish towel at him lighltly. Richarlison drew back and pretended to be in pain. I looked right into his face in disbelief at the drama "Seriously, now drink all the juice and wash the jar" I demanded, pointing to the pitcher and the sink.

"I won't do it at all, I'll put it back here" he replied, opening the fridge again to put the juice.

"No you fucking won't. The sink is over there and you will wash it, so…" I answered back, hitting the wooden spoon on the pan, making a loud noise that made him jump.

"You talk like you don't put your mouth on my p-" he replied and I cut him off as quickly as possible.

"Richarlison!" I was mortified with embarrassment, even though there was no one there. He had a point, but that didn't justify it. "Would you please - " I tried to ask, but he cut me off again, this time moving his body closer to mine, putting me between him and the kitchen counter.

"Why doesn't that complaining little mouth of yours do something better?" he whispered, brushing his lips from my neck to my ear, making my entire body shiver and my legs shake. Not to mention my beyonussy  who was desperate and sparkling. I tried to focus on the pan in front of me, on low heat, and the vegetables simmering. But that melee touch was too lit and it was going to burn.

"Is it? What do you want that mouth to do? It needs to be very specific," I whispered back fiercely, trying to rationalize my brain and the fireworks between my legs.

"You could use that attitude and get down on your knees real slow" he started, putting a hand on my shoulder, pulling me down. I obeyed, bending my knees and reaching up to his waist. "Now you open that little mouth of yours that talks a lot and put it to good use" he said, picking me up by the neck and gripping my hair. I didn't have time to think twice and pulled his shorts down - and he was only in shorts - and used my hand to gently pull the little pombo out and pumped it a few times before putting it all in my mouth, deep throat really. He felt the pressure and placed his hands on the counter in front of him, trying to keep himself standing while I did him just the way he liked. Hearing his moans was music to my ears, trying to keep his posture and low voice when I knew he just wanted to whisper in my ear, like every night. But I let him try to maintain his posture, using my tongue to try to pull the best sounds out of his mouth. I kept my eyes closed because I'd rather feel than see, but when I opened my eyes and looked up, he had his eyes tightly closed, his head half turned back and his chest rising and falling, breathing hard. I knew it wasn't long before he came and that I was going to need to hold on tight.

And it didn't take long.

When he came, his knees were shaking and I concentrated on not laughing and not choking.

The feeling of him in my mouth is always unique. It never matters if I feel my throat burn and tears run down my cheeks, it's always a unique feeling.

When Richarlison let out the "ahhh" I knew my job was well done.

I got up, I kissed his neck and suck his weak neck spot and warned him "Next time you want to hold this attitude with me, I'll earn something"

"It's like you boss me around" he teased, trying to pull away from me. "What are you doing for us to have lunch anyway?" he asked, as if nothing had just happened.

"So what? Do you even care about it? It must have burned already" I went to look at the pan and saw that the sautéed vegetables were already too sautéed indeed.

"If you have an attitude with me like that again, you'll kneel again," he snapped, looking straight into my eyes. I got close to him, face to face, our breaths mingling.

"Bet" I replied in a low voice.

"All fours" he replied, in his turn, with a firm voice.

I knew this was going to be a hunt.

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olha prefiro as histórias em português porque estranho menos mas funciona em ambos os idiomas

eu acho estranho escrever em inglês quando o personagem é brasileiro. e tem expressões que só existem em PT/BR e cabem tão bem na história

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should i write for richarlison in portuguese, english or both? i’ve been away from posting here but sheeesh this richarlison guy huh

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a letter to my followers, 

Somewhere in the World, July 28th 2022

Hi! 

i decided to suspend my fanfic writing here for a bit. writing is like therapy for me and i post it because i know many other people like reading pieces of fanfic it helps them too. i've been a fanfic writer for more than ten years and i've been in a lot of fandoms. 

it's enough to realize when it's getting unhealthy and it's time to stop. when it starts to affect negatively my mental health instead of helping me, i know it's time to pause for a while. 

writing makes me virtually go to places that i've always dreamed of but right now i'm sensing that i'm using my time only to dream but not to accomplish real things. it makes me meet people that i've always wanted to and do things that i've always wanted to, too, but right now i feel like it's so much inside of my head that i'm forgetting about the real world when i shouldn't. 

also, when i access the fandom and see a lot of drama happening, it affects deeply my mental health. being unkind to fanfic writers is not funny at all. or trying to tear someone else's writing down because they are not famous on the tumblr feed, it's also unfunny. i've had this account for 10 years, i know what it's like to be new to a fandom and i know what it's like to be a cannon fic writer. in any way, kindness is key. your writing will not be the best just because you're unkind to someone. 

all that, to my readers: (i've gained so many followers after writing for jack and urban, thank you so much!) i know you readers have so many things to accomplish in this world and if you write too, go for it! let the world know the wonder you have in mind! also, live your life to fullest and take care of your mental healths. 

have a nice day, tumblr fam! see you some day again.

with all my heart, 

I'm gonna give all my secrets away - OneRepublic 

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Sky colors

Gio's journey in Australia changes its colors when she meets Urban and they connect. 

This story is going to have eight parts like a Netflix show. Many parts are more dialogues than descriptions. It's a mix of enemies to lovers and friends to lovers. Even though it includes Jack and shloob (the only one I thought of lol and I like his personality) it's kind of AU. 

Part 1: Missile

Gio was going for her usual early morning jogging that she kept as a routine even while traveling on vacation with her friends. The sun was faintly rising in the sky and the weather was a cooler than warmer. 

She was leaving the hotel through the swimming pool area when she saw a man with curly blond hair sitting in a random chair with a blunt on and a crying face. He was sobbing quietly but it could be heard from where she was. 

"Hey, are you ok?" she asked standing still where she was. He looked at her with red eyes that she couldn't perceive as from the crying or the marijuana. 

"Yes, everything's fine" he scoffed. She shrugged. 

"May I help you with anything?" she asked politely, realizing it looked like he was having an anxiety crisis. She knew it so well from dealing it herself with such situations. 

"Yeah, by leaving me the fuck alone" he responded raising his voice. Gio took a step back. 

"If you need any help, talk to one hotel employee or call your friends." she replied with a soft voice even with his coldness and impoliteness. 

"I said leave me the fuck alone" he spat, looking at her now and regretting his own words after seeing her face frown. 

"It's ok, just know you're not alone, a'ight?" she finally said and left, putting her airpods on to listen to her usual Running playlist. 

She looked back to see the man rely back on the chair, blunt back to his mouth and smoke in the air. She shrugged and felt horrible for not being able to help him but it wasn't her fault he was there. She just knew what an anxiety attack looked like and felt like, so it was horrible for her. 

She went for her jogging still thinking about the man but focusing on her day to come. She and her girl friends had a day full of things to do and a Jack Harlow concert at night. It wasn't her first Jack Harlow show, she had seen him before but this time it was a big coincidence that he was playing at a festival by the time she was in Australia too. 

The fresh breeze of the ocean calmed her soul. She knew that later the morning, too, she was going to surf the Australian waters, a dream for her. After the accident, it was always a magical moment to surf. Coming back to Australia was a dream after 10 years and even dreamier that she could surf there again. 

When Gio came back to the hotel, she found her friends already awaken. They chatted for a bit and got ready to have breakfast. The three of them - Gio, Paola and Paty - left their room to go to the hotel restaurant. By this time, she had forgotten a little about the man she had seen earlier. She didn't even comment about him with the girls. 

She was wearing a floral dress with a pair of blue sandals. It loosely marked her body but she wasn't interested in that. The girls were wearing the usual: shirts and jeans. Gio was the biggest fan of dresses among them three. 

They were chatting about music while serving themselves breakfast when Gio peeped the man she had seen earlier on the corner of her eye. He was arriving with a bigger group of other boys and two women. She couldn't help but look wider to see where he was going. 

This was when he looked back at her and she let her plate fall on the ground. The whole restaurant looked at her as she started to shake being ashamed of such a childish action. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry" she started saying. Her friends helped her and the hotel staff was quick to calm her. 

"It's fine, ma'am, we will clean it up. Would you like any of the workers to help you with your food?" the woman asked but Gio was barely paying attention. She still had eyes locked with the man, who looked at her with softer eyes than earlier. 

"Sure" she simply responded and headed to a table. 

to be continued 

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Filming You

It's a short blurb based on this iconic Brazilian song lol / unedited / no warnings, it's pure fluff. 

"Urban, can you put the camera down?" You tell Urban, who's been filming you for no reason for the last days. 

Facts are, you and Urban got closer with the European and Australian leg of Jack's your. You worked in completely different areas - you were logistics manager and Urban is the photographer, so both yall's jobs kind of don't meet very often. 

But every time he saw you, he felt something different. Every time he thought about you, he saw you needy for him, screaming his name, touching his skin with your glorious embrace. 

"Can you smile for me?" he said, fainting a smile at you. You looked at him and smiled for the camera the best way you could. 

"Now, why's that?" you asked, getting ready to solve a new issue with the stage logistics. 

Urban knew your last man dumped you because you were too focused on your job. It was him or traveling with Jack and "the young-ass crew" as he said. It made you sad because you had been together for a good long time and he was acting childish.

Urban saw that as an opportunity to get closer to you, and he got what he wanted. You let him, though. His presence was peaceful and joyful. Never a dull moment. He was all around with his contagious laugh and playful words. 

"Every time I see you, I feel something different" he said, getting closer to you. You put your phone down and looked at him with tender eyes. 

"Urban, you know, I can't. It's wrong." you insisted. 

"Stop with that! Let's let our fate choose it for us." he replied. You nodded, giving him a shy smile. 

He got even closer and touched his lips faintly on yours. You let a sigh out, closing your eyes and letting your feelings guide you. "Let my heart film you, for real" he said, your breaths really close. You nodded again and let him kiss you. 

the end. 

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urban stepping on jack's shoes hahahah how to tell they are a pisces

Jack and urban shopping