#Xavi writing

[silkenblankets]

The job was done, red coated the scene and it felt like he could finally think. There was a moment of bittersweet silence, lowering his metal arm and taking in a deep breath. Gunpowder, it wasn't his first time smelling it. Every time before, that scent meant another piece of him was torn from his body, his identity would break into a smaller shard than before.

But it also meant freedom. The initial fear of pain dissolved, replaced by a sweet catharsis. He dropped the weapon, walking up to the body and lifting it's right hand. A handcrafted ring, silver band, with small grey stones beaded on either side of a slightly larger stone resting atop the finger. It came off with a good tug, inspecting the metal before attempting to place it on his own finger. The metallic surface didn't hold the ring, and so he opted to hide it in his only worldly possession: a small pouch of dice pulled tight around his artificial wrist.

Turning his back on his God, he left the home and everything that happened within it. He was lost, he was angry, he was doubtful. But he knew the driveway led to a road, a city was to the right. Or, something similar. He wasn't sure, but it was his only plan.

The road was endless, and unkempt. Despite the dullness of his touch, he could feel the loose asphalt under his feet, scuffing the metal and adding small dents to the form. It was cold, his jacket was the only thing keeping his body from shivering. Slightly oversized with tearing in the sleeves, the only clothing he could fit over the thick spikes worked into his prosthetics. He has always disliked the shape, now outright hating the form it gave him.

He could tell his legs would be sore by now, his hips already ached and his back hurt. The man's posture was more akin to a zombie, his body long since tired.

The moon had been thrown over him, completing its arc as he entered the small city. The sun had begun to emerge, everyone would be waking up soon. But not God. That felt nice to know... But the rattling in his foot signaled damage, he wanted to patch that up. Except he didn't have materials, or method.

Lifting his eyes from the ground, his gaze bounced from one building to the next. Maybe he could find someplace that fixed cybernetic limbs? Though, as far as he knew, nobody really had those. For whatever reason, he had been made the outlier, rather than another corpse in the frigid winter.

Oh, that looked promising. A building that looked more like a garage than the others, the inside showed displays of what looked to be assorted car parts. But it was small and cramped inside, the business wasn't big in the slightest. He tried to pull open the door, but found it was locked. Must be closed. He tried to plan for what time it would be open, hearing muffled footsteps and the scattered crunch of a latch. Feeling the door open, he backed away and stared at who opened it.

A short brunette wearing some kind of work jumpsuit, a name tag was embroidered on the fabric: Michael.

"Hey- do you need something? Are you okay?"

It took him a moment to process that he needed something, he needed to be fixed.

"Do you do repairs?" His metallic voice caused visible confusion in Micheal. "Yup. What for?"

"... My foot."

Michael looked down, skipping past the exposed hips and crouching to inspect the metal appendage. Tilting his head, he gave a confused smile. "It doesn't look that bad, I can fix that I suppose."

He nodded quietly, following the smaller man inside the building. Michael pulled a chair into the garage, which was empty as of now. Motioning to the seat, the cyborg sat down in silence. His foot was lifted and set on a crate, Michael went from one toolbox to the next before returning with a handful of material.

For once, he was grateful for his dulled touch, barely aware of the molten heat touching him. Michael must've found the silence uncomfortable, shifting his stance to look at the man. "What's your name?"

"..." Xavier was dirtied. He didn't know what other name he had. "... Xavi."

Michael smiled. "That's a pretty neat name." He glanced to the gashes in Xavi's jacket, clicking his tongue. "Hey would you like those shaved down? They look really uncomfortable."

Xavi looked at Michael, trying not to show his excitement. "... Can you do that?" He got a nod in response, the mechanic stood and pat Xavi's leg. "Of course, then we can put something on ya to keep you from freezing." The man smiled, holding out his hand.

"C'mon, it should only take a few minutes. Maybe I can get to know you better."

It felt... wonderful, to be a person again.

Xavi used the aid of Michael to pull himself back to his feet, his smile hidden behind his artificial jaw. "Thank you."

Michael gave the cyborg a quick, partial hug as he led him towards the rest of his tools. As he rummaged through the drawers, his smile returned.

"My pleasure, Xavi."

[buttdumplin]

this is an open letter from a poc to folks who are writing characters of color

if you're going to write a scene/interaction in which the character of color is confronting a white character about their racism, do not, i repeat DO NOT, center the white character. not their feelings, not their reactions. because it is never about the white character, nor should it ever be. white tears and white guilt have never fucking done dick for us, and they never fucking will. a response only matters when it is to make amends and change behaviors.

[leqclerc]

[pfhwrittes]

all my love and thanks go to @buttdumplin for inspiring this soft little something for ale.

tags/triggers: the comfort part of hurt/comfort, use of papi as a pet name, fluff, brief mention of minor injuries (bruises), food mention.

word count: 430ish (unedited and unbeta'd as usual)

pairing: alejandro vargas x gender neutral reader.

a/n: i'm gonna level with you all, i don't know any spanish and the only spanish i know is european spanish. so instead of butchering a beautiful language, i've used a lot of italics. please please tell me if i've screwed up. and my standard request as per the banner, please do not interact with my writing if you're under the age of 18, despite this being entirely fluff.

everything hurts as ale shoulders the door open. his pulse throbs in time behind his eyes and over the swollen bruise on his jaw, a combination of too much paperwork and a lucky hit from rudy in the gym.

ale takes a deep, restorative breath as he makes his way towards the kitchen. the sounds of something sizzling over the music playing on the speakers tempting him further into the house better than any siren song.

"hi my love. busy day?" you call over your shoulder as he drops into the chair at the table heavily, "dinner is almost done, i'm trying the recipe your tía sent me and i think -"

ale tunes the rest of your chatter out as the headache flares behind his eyes and the patterned table cloth in his peripheral - the one his mother gleefully bestowed on you - blurs slightly before he closes his eyes with a tired groan.

"oh papi." you cluck your tongue softly and ale feels your cool hand smooth over his forehead, brushing back the few loose strands of his hair before moving to press lightly on the bruise under the scruff on his jaw.

ale nuzzles into your palm with a sigh.

"i'm sorry my love." he murmurs softly, blinking his tired eyes open slowly.

you're standing in front of him in the soft loose clothing you always prefer when you come home from work. a vision in comfortable cotton and jersey. he gives in to the urge to bury his face in your belly, sighing when the palm cupping his face slides to the nape of his neck. you soothe him with gentle words and gentler touches, kneading at the tense muscles of his neck.

minutes or hours later, ale lifts his head and watches as you melt at his expression. the little frown at your brow smoothing out, love radiating from every pore.

"what would i do without you?"

you hum in response and ale lets his eyelashes flutter closed as you scratch at his scalp lightly.

"come on papi, let's get you in the shower. wash some of the day off you, hm?" you say softly and curl your fingers into his hair, a teasing tug that would ordinarily send the blood zinging through his veins but tonight warms him slowly, making his thoughts go syrupy slow.

ale leans his forehead onto your stomach again, completely content to rest as you dote on him, his words muffled when he speaks.

"i love you so much."

"i know papi," you pause, before urging him to lift his head to look at you, "i love you too."

[saphirdevil]

my first art of them but ill post them now, idk man everyday im just like idk,,,, man

[il-predestinato]

Charles: "Prepare the other helmet with the darker visor please." Xavi: "This is the darkest visor we have." Charles: "Okay, copy." Max: "The sun is becoming lower and lower. It's quite annoying." GP: "Yeah, understood. Do you want your tape?" Max: "No, it's okay. Just annoying." GP: "Understood." "So - Verstappen and Leclerc on the same page there." 🚫☀️

Charles Leclerc & Max Verstappen | Q1 | 2023 Azerbaijan Grand Prix

🎥: F1TV (team radio)

[seedlessmuffins]

footballers as flowers i see on my nature walks pt. 18!

happy birthday to the lovely @cant-get-no-worse, ciene im sorry this is late for you but i hope i did all your favs justice and that you had an amazing bday, you deserve the world! 🫶

[xiaoluclair]

4/5/6

4. nose kisses

5. jawline kisses

6. eyelid kisses // lestappen // rating: G

FORMULA 1 ETIHAD AIRWAYS ABU DHABI GRAND PRIX 2027 ↳ COMMENTATORS’ BOX TRANSCRIPT

19:01 [David CROFTY, with crescendo] And Liam Lawson brings it home to win the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix in brilliant succession, and brilliant it certainly was but we can’t focus for long right now because the man about to be second place, he’s been called many things in his lifetime: Il Predestinato, The Curse Breaker, Ferrari’s Salvation, and now after this night he can finally etch one more onto that list—

SCUDERIA FERRARI PIT WALL | DRIVER RADIO ↳ C. LECLERC

18:59 [Max VERSTAPPEN] CHARLES LECLE

18:59 [Charles LECLERC] AHHHHHHHHHHHH

18:59 [VERSTAPPEN] YOU ****ING DID IT YOU ****ING WENT AND D

18:59 [LECLERC] OH MY ****ING GOD AHHHHHHHHHHHH OH MY

19:00 [VERSTAPPEN] CHARLES LECLERC YOU ARE OFFICIALLY THE TWO THOUSAND AND TWENTY SEVEN WORLD CHAMPION!

19:00 [LECLERC] **** LET'S ****ING GOOO BABY!

19:00 [VERSTAPPEN] Ahaha, let's go baby indeed!

19:00 [LECLERC] Are you crying?

19:00 [VERSTAPPEN] My eyes are just a little bit sweaty, mate.

19:00 [LECLERC] Mine too.

START—FINISH STRAIGHT | POST RACE CELEBRATIONS ↳ VISUAL TRANSCRIPT

19:06 [Liam LAWSON parks in P1 and pulls himself out of the RB23. He stands on the front of the car and yells in delight.]

19:06 [Charles LECLERC pulls carefully into the P2 position, knocking over the P2 BOARD.]

19:06 [LAWSON jumps down from his car and runs to his team. The RED BULL RACING crew catch him like quicksand.]

19:06 [Oscar PIASTRI takes the final P3 spot, smoke trailing after his wheels.]

19:06 [Much like LAWSON, LECLERC balances himself on top of the SF-27 and pumps his fists into the air over and over again. He leaps onto the ground and sprints right for the SCUDERIA FERRARI crew, who are akin to a pack of screaming animals.]

19:07 [PIASTRI descends from his car in slightly a calmer manner. Still, he also seems to have forgotten the concept of walking. Before he can reach the RED BULL RACING crew, LAWSON catches him around the abdomen and pulls him into a hug. Their helmets knock together a little and the embrace is reciprocated quickly.]

19:07 [LECLERC, now pulled away from the arms of his team, is standing on his tip-toes. He appears to be searching for someone. He leans into a SCUDERIA FERRARI crew member and, after a few moments, they shout a reply, pointing in the direction of the garages. LECLERC starts to move, seemingly to where the crew member showed, but is pulled back by the same crew member. Rapid conversation is shared between them.]

19:08 [PIASTRI, LAWSON and LECLERC all congratulate each other before documenting their weight in quick succession, as per the FiA's Sporting Regulation 29.1 (a)(ii).]

19:08 [PIASTRI is quick to chug down half a bottle of water. He wears a tired expression that smiles readily at LAWSON's grin. LAWSON puts an arm around PIASTRI's shoulders. The two lean against each other as they share words.]

FORMULA 1 ETIHAD AIRWAYS ABU DHABI GRAND PRIX 2027 ↳ POST RACE INTERVIEWS | HOSTED BY Sebastian VETTEL

19:15 [Sebastian VETTEL, smiling] Charles.

19:15 [Charles LECLERC, grinning] Sebastian.

19:15 [VETTEL] How are you feeling right now?

19:15 [LECLERC, glancing to the side] You just asked me that five minutes ago before this interview, my answer has not changed. I am very, very, very happy, I. There are no words. No words.

19:15 [VETTEL] That could be a problem considering this interview has to last at least two minutes.

19:15 [LECLERC, glancing to the side again] I am very sorry.

19:15 [VETTEL, grinning] Tell everyone else how you're feeling then. It's your very first World Championship, there's got to be a lot of emotions rattling around inside.

19:16 [LECLERC] Oh absolutely. I am. I mean, first I would like to say well done to Liam because he was absolutely amazing this race, and it is a shame we could not battle because of the penalty. But right now, right now I am unbelievably happy right now, I cannot even say it. I am shaking, I think, my hands feel so light and I will probably crash into bed completely later but for now it is. Unbelievable.

19:16 [VETTEL, teasing] No gratuitous 'thank you's?

19:16 [LECLERC] Sorry?

19:16 [VETTEL, grinning] People you want to thank. Any past teammates maybe?

19:17 [LECLERC, laughing] Oh! I mean of course, Marcus taught me a lot so yes I would like to thank him. [laughs again, seemingly at the look on VETTEL's face.] Of course I would also like to thank you, Seb. And I am actually very happy it is you interviewing me here when you were— oh my God, sorry.

19:17 [LECLERC, suddenly sprinting almost too fast for the camera to follow] Where the fuck were you?!

19:17 [Max VERSTAPPEN, catching LECLERC in his arms] Paul dropped a coffee all over me, mate, it was

19:17 [VETTEL, amused] Seemed a bit half-hearted, but I'll take it.

19:17 [LECLERC, against VERSTAPPEN's jaw] God-damnit, Paul.

19:18 [VERSTAPPEN, grinning] Keep it PG, Leclerc.

19:18 [LECLERC, pressing his smile into kisses all over VERSTAPPEN's face] I love [Mia DJACIC takes the microphone easily from his hand] *Unintelligible*.

FORMULA 1 ETIHAD AIRWAYS ABU DHABI GRAND PRIX 2027 ↳ COMMENTATORS’ BOX TRANSCRIPT

19:18 [David CROFTY] Oh, and a little one on the nose to round it off. Do you think that's why Xavi left?

19:18 [Martin BRUNDLE, dryly] On the contrary, I'm pretty sure that's why anyone would stay.

[alexi-01]

this whole xavi thing is giving the club didn’t like that he announced he was leaving and took the power away from the board so got him to say he’ll stay just to sack him to get that power back

[jb-nonsense]

💜 for whoever inspires you

send a heart and a ship for a brief snippet!

Note: This is going to be viewed as a draft for a long series of fics I plan to write surrounding Nievys in the SWTOR era but not involving the main storylines too much, save for how they effect the galaxy around them. Background: Nievys is sent on a mission to Hoth, and unexpectedly meets a target from a former mission. The pair find themselves having to rely on each other to survive the inhospitable planet when comms go out and a storm approaches. Pairing: Nievys Xavy (OC) x Rees Dival (OC) Word Count: 1,017

               The howling of the Hoth winds beat against the shelter. Nievys looked through the items which had been left when it had been abandoned. Some flimsies with notes, broken datapads, old rations. It appeared to have been a Republic base before they had bugged out. She looked up to the thief, who was checking the life support systems and noting if anything was off. She watched how he sucked in a breath, grabbing his side and wincing a bit. That hit from the wampa he’d gotten must of hurt more than he’d originally let on.

               “So, how long do we have?” she asked, taking a step towards him in the small space.

               “Oh, about a planetary day cycle,” Rees told her with a shrug. “At least with how it is now. If I make some adjustments, it could last longer, but we’d be colder.” He threw her a devilish, teasing smirk. “Could need to share body heat.” Nievys gave a scoff at that, folding her arms and turning her back to him to hide the warmth coming to her cheeks. “I am just joking, your agentness.” The weight on her shoulders was a surprise. She glanced down to the blanket there, just as Rees’s hands slipped off her shoulders. “We have blankets.” He moved past her and Nievys ignored how cold her shoulders felt. She grabbed the blanket and tied it tighter around her, watching as he went over to the comms. “See if there’s anything on how long this storm will be.”

               Nievys sat down on the cot, watching him. He swore in some Festian language as all he could get was static. He looked from one side to another, his hand twitching a bit at his side. His body seemed ready to move in any and every direction. It was different than the usual put together man she’d encountered before. He always had a plan. Is this what he was like when he didn’t? She’d find it humorous if she also wasn’t in the same predicament as him.

               Her gaze wandered from him to the capsule. She knew there wasn’t much else to do but wait. Sometimes that’s all she could do. She had been on plenty of stakeouts with Erik to know that. She rose to a stand as he walked by again and reached out, grabbing his arm. He stopped in his steps but didn’t turn to look at her.

               “There’s not much else you can do, Rees,” she told him. “I’ve never seen you like this before and I’m sure you were in a worse predicament on Nar Shaddaa.”

               “Yes, but that was just me,” he pointed out, finally turning to her, dark brown eyes meeting gray. “I have you to be concerned about.”

               “Well, it’s a good thing I can take care of myself.” She ignored how it felt with him so close in that small space. And it felt like the space was shrinking when she heard and felt the warm chuckle from him.

               “That,” he began, brushing a strand of hair out of her face, “I am quite aware of.”

A bubbling pressure built up in her chest and she pushed it down, keeping a steady, almost defiant gaze with him. “So, when someone else is in danger, then you have concern?”

               “Depends on the someone else,” he threw back, a daring look in his eye.

               “Typical,” Nievys scoffed, turning away from him.

               “What? Usually, people appreciate those kinds of statements,” Rees defended himself, trying to move so he was looking at her but barely making it by her due to the small space.

               “Exactly, it’s still in a way to benefit yourself.” She sat down, arms folded and back to him.  The sound of his sigh filled the silence and the cot shifted as he sat beside her.

               “You really are not a typical Imperial.”

               “And what does that mean? You’ve said that before—” She turned to face him but stopped when she realized how close he was to her.

               “I think you know exactly what I mean.”

               Her chest heaved and mind raced. She could feel her heart racing and the nerves coming in. She didn’t want to think about what he was implying and what he meant. She didn’t want to look at her life like that yet. She needed time and right now she needed a distraction. Any sort of distraction would do.

               The warmth of his lips against hers as she pulled him to her surprised her as much as it surprised him. The heat melted away the shock, both of them sloppily wrapping their arms around the other to bring them closer. The feeling of his firm hand on the small of her back bringing her closer caused her breath to hitch in her throat. She easily glided into his lap; chest pressed to chest as well as their bulky winter clothes would allow. Nievys’s hands slipped down to undo his coat fastening as their lips pulled apart. Rees stopped her, though, taking her hands in his.

               “What are you,” she began but stopped when he brought her hands to his lips, kissing her fingers as his dark eyes watched her.

               “Don’t do this unless you want to,” he said. “Usually, I’m not bothered by a random fling for whatever reason but…” He paused, swallowing his words.

               “But what?”

               “Well, that reason would not be smart to tell an agent, no?”

               Nievys settled against him, eyes examining his features. The way his dark eyes watched her, the steady patience he had for her decision. She’d always followed along with what others wanted or at least amused them. Her mother and her attempts at matchmaking, her brother and his ambitions, even her work within Imperial Intelligence. Very rarely had anyone been interested in what she actually wanted. And yet here was a cad, a thief, making sure she wanted to continue.

               “I do believe I want to,” Nievys said, her voice dropping into a low, warm hum. She watched the slow, easy smirk spread across his lips and leaned closer for another kiss.

[thesinglesjukebox]

XAVI- "LA DIABLA"

Ho ho ho, delightfully devilish...

[6.45]

Alfred Soto: I'm bored with devil/angel cliches, but Xavi's way with short and vowel sounds (especially with a's) and especially that fiercely strummed guitar -- oh, that guitar -- represent novelty for a moribund top twenty. Now I need to hear it on the radio. [7]

Will Adams: If nothing else, a stunning display of the numerous timbres that a guitar can produce. Bonus point for the outro where the song suddenly turns into "Iris." [6]

Nortey Dowuona: lilith is so cool u guys [10]

Katherine St. Asaph: Dudes can make profoundly undevilish songs about their supposedly devilish lovers too! [3]

Ian Mathers: Maybe I'm just not familiar enough with the nuances of this genre, but "La Diabla" feels like it has real "we've got Eslabon Armado y Peso Pluma at home" vibes to me. [7]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: There's something a little too theater-kid in Xavi's vocals -- he's putting something on like he's the Meat Loaf of corridos -- but the strength of the interlocking hooks here, both vocal and instrumental, is enough to overcome the slight twinge of embarrassment I get when he wails about Balenciaga. [7]

Leah Isobel: The way "La Diabla" insists of running Xavi's voice through filters on, like, every other line gives it a strangely frantic feel. I guess it's supposed to up the intensity, but it comes across as a bit try-hard. I love the minimal, melancholy outro passage, though. [6]

Brad Shoup: The strings are yanked back like a yo-yo trick, or a spider darting back into its hole: the dryness of the mix is great if you want to hear instrumental interplay. If you want any other kind, then the effect is that of someone shooting his shot with the last-call lights on. [7]

Mark Sinker: Bit lazy to unleash it twice but I will never not love the telephone-effect voice, here deployed to say “Christian Dior” in two places (for somewhat unparseable reasons). It’s usually traced back to “Yellow Submarine" in pop but I’m pretty sure that George Martin borrowed it from the Goon Show. And of course pioneer crooner Rudy Vallee often sang through an actual real megaphone, like a hundred years ago. Meanwhile Xavi isn't yet 20, and looks 12. [7]

TA Inskeep: His voice belies his years (he's not even 21 & sounds like a norteño singer some 20 years his senior), and the simple acoustic dual guitar accompaniment works in the song's favor. [6]

Taylor Alatorre: “La Víctima” minus the middle-school misogyny, so what we’re left with is a frenetic strumming pattern with inherently diminishing returns, which is just good enough for a passing score today but likely won’t be in the future, assuming there is one. [6]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[buttdumplin]

i'm realizing now almost everything i write has either food or is set in the kitchen and i'm sorry yall i don't know what to tell you, that's the communal and social spaces, i don't make the rules

[silkenblankets]

Cyborg whump on brain

Want it on paper

But then I have to write

Write hard...

PASSION

oh i forgot the plot part

(it's a poem?)

-🤖

[pfhwrittes]

first impression: whoa they're so cool and they write such neat things!!! and transmasc reader??? fucking sold. loving you from afar <3

now: i tear up every time i see you in my notes, i'm so honored to be in community with you!! i love hearing what you have to say and how you feel about things. i always have you in mind when i write transmasc reader too, taking strength from reading your work. i'll continue to love you <3

xavi 💕💕💕💕

[saphirdevil]

there's always next time

[getting-messi]

Oh that World Cup winner, back-to-back Euro winner, two-time treble winner including captaining Barca to one in his final season in Europe Xavi (and so much more)? yeah why is he relevant?

Only an idiot can say that a World Cup doesn’t count for much and bring up Instagram followers in the same freaking sentence

IDIOT🤭