#i was going to blur the captions but it felt like more work

[iceonmyteeth]

♡

[f1fnatic]

LIAR ⤿ c. sainz 55

→ ( in which. . . ) you and carlos have been dating for three years. carlos started to grow distant. after charles shows you a picture of his infidelity, you catch him in the act after a day at work.

→ ( fanfic genre. . . ) written

→ ( pairing. . . ) cheater!carlos sainz x longtime!girlfriend!reader

→ (content warnings/disclaimers. . . ) mentions of sex, language, yelling, cheating, alcohol consumption, angst

→ ( author's note. . . ) this was my first time writing angst/cheating. it was fun experimenting with this type of writing. i hope you enjoy! see end for more.

→ ( masterlist )

"you fucking liar!" echoed through the otherwise quiet apartment. hurried footsteps sounded from the hallway, another pair following the first close behind. was this what everything came to? walking out on your supposed soulmate after years together? how did you get here? and what did you do to deserve this?

one week prior ↴

you had noticed the distance growing. carlos was becoming closed off and almost secretive. he didn't confide in you as much as he used to. you didn't think twice about it and assumed it was something to do with work. ferrari had been going through a rough patch, both him and charles struggling to start or finish a race for the past three weeks.

you understood how stressful being a driver was. you had been around formula 1 for a while now, because of him. you and carlos met when he drove for redbull, in 2015. the two of you started dating shortly after in 2017.

you were always there for him, through thick and thin. through the blood, sweat, and tears. after every win, podium, loss, dnf, dns, etc. you understood how hard it was for him to perform well but not get the results wanted.

so, when you received a picture of carlos with another woman, a blond, on his lap, hands on his shoulders and lips touching, you were livid. charles had sent it to you, with a simple caption that read "i am sorry." it was the after-party of a not-so-successful qatar grand prix.

rage, confusion, sadness, and disgust coursed through your veins. the thought of him finding comfort in a woman who wasn't you made you sick. your hands shook, eyes blurred, and breath quickened.

you could not believe that carlos would ever cheat, especially on you. you had given him everything. love, attention, comfort, and compassion. and this is what he gave you in return? you had sacrificed so much to make him happy. you felt useless. had you thrown away six years of your life just to get cheated on? did he feel guilty? did he regret his choice to kiss a random girl? thoughts sped through your mind.

what did you do until he got home? your apartment no longer felt like a home. it felt gross and unnatural to be in there. to think that the person you shared it with was sharing a different room across the world. did he share your bed with someone else as well? the pictures of the two of you that hung on the wall seemed to mock you.

every passing minute became more and more painful. could you act like everything was fine when he eventually did get home? or would you lose it immediately the second he walked in through the front door?

unfortunately, you knew that only time would tell.

present day ↴

today was the day that carlos got home. you were at work, trying to distract yourself from the inevitable conflict about to occur. you reached the front door of your shared apartment. shaking hands held the key and you placed it in the lock and turned it. pushing open the door, the apartment was quiet, suspiciously quiet.

you noticed that the kitchen was a mess. plates and cooking utensils were in the sink, dirty and waiting to be washed. two wine glasses left discarded on the quartz bar. a bottle of red cabernet left opened and almost empty. one of the glasses had lipstick stains littered around the rim.

your heartbeat quickened. adrenaline began to pump through your body. you quickly toed off your shoes, and your feet ached after a long day. you also discarded your purse and jacket, making your way to your and carlos' bedroom.

as you got closer, you heard moaning. your heart dropped to your stomach. you opened the door as soon as you reached it. low and behold, it was carlos and the same blond from the picture that charles sent you. the blond was on top of carlos, head back and mouth open in euphoria. carlos had the same expression as her on his face.

tears immediately welled in your eyes and quickly fell. you felt defeated. it was one thing to see a picture of your boyfriend kissing another girl, but to catch him with that same girl in the bed that you shared, in the same bed that he fucked you in, was different.

finally, carlos opened his eyes and noticed you in the doorway. his hands found the blond's hips to stop her from moving. his eyes widened with guilt and surprise; mouth wide open in shock.

"y-y/n?!" he shouted. the blond turned to look at you and god, she was pretty. you partially understood why he did it. she covered herself with one of the loose sheets and unstrattled carlos, allowing him to get up.

"y/n, i can explain-" he starts.

"explain what, carlos?!" you shout, cutting him off. "how on earth can you explain me walking in on you fucking another girl in our bed?!"

"it was a simple mistake, mi amor, that's all." he tried to reason, smiling meekly. the nickname that once held so much love now held nothing. the name that made butterflies flutter in your stomach now made them sink.

"you fucking liar!" you screamed. "this was on purpose!" it echoed through the now quiet apartment. you turned your back on the pair and walked away. your hurried footsteps sounded from the hallway, carlos' pair following yours closely behind.

"y/n, stop!" he yelled, grabbing your wrist and turning you around to face him.

"do not fucking touch me!" you say, yanking your wrist from his grip. the complete and utter audacity he had to try to attempt to explain why he cheated. "was i not enough for you? did i do something wrong? did i not fuck you the right way? did i not get you off fast enough? huh, carlos? what made you decide to throw away six years together huh? six fucking years!"

carlos stares at you, his brown eyes that you thought were breathtaking were now filling you with disdain. "tell me carlos!"

"i-i don't know why," he stutters, turning his gaze to the floor, taking a sudden interest in the hardwood paneling. "you were enough, you still are enough. please y/n, we can move past this. i was drunk and stupid, my judgement was clouded." he tries to reason, reaching to grab both of your hands.

"no, stop it. no amount of time can get me to forgive you for this. i will never forgive you, carlos." you said his name with such disgust that he flinched. "charles showed me a picture of you kissing her in qatar in a bar during an after-party. i have known for a week. but to think that you would take her into our home and fuck her?"

"wait, wait, wait. charles texted you?" carlos questioned. there was anger present in his voice. "why the fuck did he text you?" it seemed that he was upset at the fact that charles told you he cheated.

i scoff, crossing my arms. "unbelievable, you are unbelievable. you cheated on me and you are caught up on the fact that your teammate texted me proof? how much of an egotistical cunt do you have to be?"

"me? i'm the unbelievable one? you're the one walking out on me because of a stupid, drunken mistake." he says nonchalantly, glossing over the insult. it's almost like he didn't care that your relationship was ending.

"fuck you, carlos. i am done. we are done. do not call me, do not try to find me to convince me to come back to you." the tears were flowing vigorously down your cheeks. you knew your makeup was running, but you didn't care. "i am fucking done. thanks for nothing. i hope have fun fucking that slut and that you are happy with the choice you made." you finish, walking away through the home that once brought you so much joy to be in.

you gathered your things. purse, shoes, phone, coat, and keys. you would get everything else later. you opened the door and then slammed it once stepping outside. it was then when every emotion hit you at once. violent sobs wracked your body making you shake. you slid down the door hugging yourself. you could not believe it. you don't know if you ever would.

after eventually calming down, you decide to call the one person who made you aware of this whole situation. you clicked on his contact's name and then the call button. you placed your phone on your ear to hear two rings before he picked up.

"hello? y/n? why are you calling." asked the voice.

"charles," you pause. the question of 'was this a good idea?' ran through your head. but, at this point you didn't care. carlos and what he thought was the least of your worries. "i need you to pick me up."

low key happy with this one, wrote it last night and like where it went. i think i might turn it into a charles x reader :P let me know in the comments if you want that :) thank you for reading! as usual, feedback and requests are welcome; make sure to leave a comment and kudos! (only if you want :P)

[matsmi13]

Hello, Long time follower here. I haven't seen you posting captions or stories in a long time. WIll you publish some new stories soon? I miss you and your work. Would love to see new stuff from you, and if i can ask, could you do something with Charlie Puth or Michael Jaroh on inanimate and unwilling themes. That would be awesome. Take care and finer crossed to see more stuff from your talented mind :)

Ready to accompany me during my workouts ?

As a journalist for an local sports magazine, I had landed an exclusive interview with Michael Jaroh after his victory at the national gymnastics competition. The room was filled with excitement, fans were shouting his name, and camera flashes lit up every corner of the hall.

After congratulating Michael on his outstanding performance, we sat down in a press room. I had prepared a series of questions about his training, his motivations, and his future goals. "Michael, can you tell us about what motivates you every day to push your limits ?" I asked. Looked at me with surprising intensity, an enigmatic smile on his lips. "You know, it's hard for people to really understand how we feel. There's so much going on beneath the surface, aspects that no one can see or feel." Intrigued, I continued, "How could we understand that better ?" Michael shrugged, looking thoughtful. "Maybe one day you'll have the chance to find out for yourself". I took this as a vague answer, intended to add a little mystery to our conversation. However, I had no idea how serious this remark was.

A few weeks later, I received a invitation from Michael inviting me to join him at the gym to discuss his habits and techniques further. Curious and excited by the opportunity, I accepted without hesitation.

Arriving at the gym, I didn't immediately find Michael. The room was deserted. Gymnastics equipment, parallel bars, rings and floor mats were laid out in an orderly fashion, but there was no one in sight. I ventured deeper into the gym, going into the changing rooms and calling out to Michael, but only the echo of my own voice answered. Suddenly, a furtive movement caught my attention. Michael appeared behind me, silent as a shadow. Before I could say anything, I felt a prick in my neck. An icy chill invaded my body, and my vision instantly blurred. The last thing I heard was Michael's voice: "You wanted to understand, didn't you ? Now you will."

When I regained consciousness, everything had changed. The feel of my skin had disappeared, replaced by a soft, elastic synthetic material. I panicked as I realized what had happened to me. I had become a compression tight. It was a whirlwind of confusion and terror. My mind was desperately trying to comprehend this new reality. I could feel the texture of my fabric, each fiber reacting to the movement of the air. I was aware of my shape, my seams, and the pressure exerted on me as I rested on the bench.

Suddenly, I hear something coming closer to me. "Hello, my friend. Ready to accompany me during my workouts ? ". I wanted to scream, but I no longer had a voice. I could only hear and feel. Michael took me in his hands and I felt every touch of his fingers like a wave of electricity passing through my fibers. It was a sensation both strange and terrifying. He slipped me on without further ado, and I immediately felt the warmth of his body against my fabric. Every movement he made I felt intensely. His leg muscles contracted and relaxed, and I could feel the power and precision of each movement.

I was trapped in this inanimate form, feeling every stretch, every twist. Michael was training intensively, and every jump, every flip, every landing gave me an unprecedented sensory experience. My mind tried to adapt, but the pain and exhaustion were constant.

Psychologically, I was struggling to maintain my own identity. The thoughts of omnipresent. Yet, in time, my mind became accustomed to this new reality.

Over time, I discovered new instincts, reflexes I'd never imagined I had. I could feel the slightest change in temperature, the tension in Michael's muscles, even his heart rate.

When Michael sweated during his intense workouts, I could feel every drop of sweat penetrating my fibers. The first time this happened, it was a shock. The sensation was both unpleasant and strange, but as time went on, I realized that this was one of my new roles. My fabric absorbed sweat, holding it in place to keep Michael dry and comfortable. This absorbing function soon became a natural instinct. With every drop of sweat, I reacted automatically, my fibers expanding to absorb the moisture. I could feel his body temperature, the saltiness of his sweat, and even detect when he was pushing his physical limits.

At first, Michael seemed almost sympathetic. Every morning, as he put on his tight compression, he would slip me a word of encouragement. However, As the weeks went by, his attitude changed. Michael became increasingly distant and indifferent. One day, as he was getting ready for training, he didn't even speak to me. Instead, he put me on like any other item of clothing in his wardrobe. I could feel the distance growing. Michael was absorbed in his routines, his competitions, and I had simply become part of his equipment.

As the months passed, memories of my old life faded for both Michael and me. I realized that my new existence was no longer that of a human, but that of an inanimate garment. Michael had forgotten me, as one forgets a dream upon awakening. And I was now a silent spectator of his life, living each day through his movements, but never recognized or noticed. And although my life as a human was over, I found a strange consolation in the fact that, somehow, I had finally understood what it meant to be a top athlete.

[many-but-one]

This is a poem written by Dorian nearly couple years ago now. He never ended up posting it because he intended to post the audio with it but we never finished captioning the audio. Going through our drafts, we found it. Since we’re on a poetry sharing kick tonight, I’ll post it now. This poem should probably be updated eventually since Dori knows more now, but we will keep it as-is for now.

Written by Dori:

I want to note that this poem is HEAVILY inspired by a slam poem by Patrick Roche. He came up with the idea of moving backwards in the timeline, which I felt was just...genius. Especially in the realm of DID, where if you know at the first age you have DID, you know it will only get progressively worse. And in my case, things do get worse, but then you get to see the real things that were believed back then. I discussed this poem with several parts in our system, not only asking for their help, but also asking if it was okay for me to share.

Lastly, here are the trigger warnings. This poem is HEAVY. It is graphic, it alludes and blatantly states some very disturbing things. I am tired of being silent.

TW: Alcohol, CSA, adulthood/teen SA, intense religious imagery, blasphemy, unalive attempt, drugs/pills, medical/hospital/doctors, self harm, domestic violence, parents, violence in general, car crashes, AFAB menstruation, neglect, death of a family member, a lot of cursing, BIG mentions of grooming from the POV of the child, brief mentions of abortions.

Haha. The gods really put every single TW they could think of in my life huh. Realizing that my entire life is essentially a trigger warning is 😅 Oof.

Anyway, here is the poem. Read with caution.

24 years and counting.

24, going on 25. I wake up each morning not knowing who I am and this is normal now. I have realized that this will be my normal forever, or at least until I process the layers upon layers of trauma, hidden underneath layers and layers of amnesia that I slowly peel back like onion skins, each layer getting more and more terrifying, more and more worrisome. The deeper I dig into this hole of unknown the harder my heart beats, and I realize my heart beats like a war drum. I have always been at war, with myself, with this body of mine. Of ours. 

Mid 24, I come to terms with a diagnosis called DID. I start to learn more about the different versions of myself, where they all intersect, where it melds together and where it stands apart. I think I know everything but 24 going on 25 version of me laughs at how naive I am. Perhaps 25 year old me will laugh at 24 going on 25 me. Maybe I’ll realize the depths of the hell I crawled out of called childhood was worse than I know even now. I don’t look forward to it. 

Early 24, I got married this year, my wife married three of me, three of me love her dearly. Things feel right and good again, I feel like I am on a happy path. My brain makes about as much sense at it always has, but at least I somewhat understand the pieces of the puzzle I’ve been given. Or at least, so I thought. 

23, this year is a blur, the only thing that stands out is that I quit my job I’ve had for five years. I loved that job. I quit that job because one of my past abusers walked in with no warning, and the sirens in my head went off like there was a nuclear bomb incoming. I still tell myself he didn’t see me but I know I’m lying to myself. I quit that very day and I realized that he still has control over me to this very day, 17 years after the trauma ended.

22, Two months before I am set to graduate college with my degree I get the diagnosis that changes my life. Not that my life is any different afterwards, at least not yet, so I try to continue forward regardless. How badly I wish to return to this moment and take my own face in my hands and look myself deep in the eyes and tell the 22 year old me that they have a storm coming. I think I already know, despite not really knowing, because I find myself getting drunk after work almost every night. I hide the bottles from my fiancée. I don’t want her to think I am my father.

21, I am old enough to drink! I barely drink. Every time I drink and it tastes too much like alcohol I am reminded of my father’s breath. I...don't know why. I stick to fruity drinks that taste good so that I can stop feeling things. Maybe I really am my father’s daughter. 

20, I finally start making friends in college, which is strange. Some people talk to me and I’ve never met them before, but they act like we’ve been friends since forever. Sometimes I attend lectures and I don’t remember what they are about. Sometimes I ask questions and I can hear my voice speaking and feel my mouth moving and I don’t know what I am saying. This is normal. The competent version of me sometimes does stuff when I get overwhelmed, that’s normal. That’s always happened! Everyone does that, right?

19, I wake up on the floor of my mother’s bathroom one afternoon, I smell my own stench I have been rotting in, I peek my eyes open and see pill bottles all around me, but no pills to be seen. The burn of bile on my throat and in my mouth makes me gag. I look in the toilet and see the pills. I won’t remember this moment until I am 24. I will learn it was not me that tried to kill themselves. I will also learn it was not me that saved me.

18, I have my first of many mental hospital stays. The doctors watch me stare at the other kids in the ward, nearly catatonic. They said they’d never seen a patient that never smiled. “Most kids get out of here within a couple of days!” They assured my mother and I. Two weeks later and I am still rotting on the plastic bedsheets. I lie and tell them I’m okay but I am not okay, I just want to live a life that involves shoelaces and doesn’t have nurses yelling at me to brush my teeth. I go back to school like nothing happened and almost all of my friends are gone. They never really cared.

18, pre-mental hospital, I am dating a boy that I don’t love. I am dating him because that’s what girls do even though I am not a girl. He is my best friend and it just seemed right. I really only dated him because sometimes I felt like I really loved him, but most of the time his lips on mine and his hands on my waist felt wrong. Something in my head feels like it’s buzzing like a beehive every time I go to his apartment. It’s almost like a spidey sense, except I ignore it and when I find myself back home, I don’t remember anything that happened at his house, nor how I ended up back home. I don’t think about it too hard. 

17, My dad punched a wall again. He screamed until I cried again. I can’t do this anymore, I can’t do this anymore. I hurt myself with sharp objects because it feels like that’s what I’m supposed to do. I never feel the pain, I only ever clean up the mess. I try to make myself as ugly as possible. To me(?) it makes sense. Obviously, if I am hideous, people will leave me alone. They won’t hurt me anymore, right? ...right? 

17, suddenly an angry version of myself appears and I realize I am SICK and TIRED of mistreatment. I fight back, I fight back with teeth and claws and words that are even sharper than both of those combined. I don’t remember these times very well. I certainly don’t remember the time this angry version of me YANKED the largest knife out of the butcher block and threatened the very man who ruined my life with it. I LOVE this version of myself. She’s intensity, with veins full of gasoline, ready and waiting for someone to ignite her. She bares her teeth in a grin and laughs, she says “I dare you, set me aflame, I will burn you with me.” Thanks, Alice. 

16, I nearly crash my car while I’m zoned out. Haha! I always zone out. Sometimes I zone out so hard that I forget big chunks of time, but everyone does that! 

15, my friend shows me his self harm scars and is trying to gain sympathy but I have none to give. I wonder if maybe doing the same will help me learn to have sympathy. Thus starts an addiction to pain that lasts for nearly a decade. 

14, I don’t remember this year very well but someone does. 

13, I started my period and I was told that I’m just a late bloomer. Everyone always said I was a late bloomer since forever. I didn’t hit my growth spurt until I was 14 either, and I didn’t stop wetting the bed until I was 9. Weird, but I didn’t put that much thought into it.

12, I wrote a detailed story that I no longer have a single copy of that talks about the structure of my inner world. Traces of the DID that I can actually remember. I don’t remember most of this year because I wasn’t the one who lived it.

11, My dad is neglecting me to party with his girlfriend. The one who lives some of next year lives this year too. Too much going on for fragile little me, someone stronger has to deal with this mess. She does. 

10, My brother died this year and this is the exact moment I stopped caring about God. Everything he ever gave to me he took away. I won’t understand the heaviness of such a statement for another decade and a half. This is when my depression started and when I lost my faith in humanity. I thought I gained it back for a while but I never did. I also stopped crying. Nobody heard me anyway. Someone in my head did it for me.

9, I don’t remember this year and I don’t want to.

8, I don’t remember this year and I don’t want to.

7, I am remembering this year and I don’t want to.

7, I am remembering this year and I don’t want to. 

7, I am remembering this year and I don’t want to.

7, I am remembering this year and it is the year that I well and truly shattered, the year I learned of the depravity of men, the year I learned that I was just holes to fuck, an actress in a sick film, a faerie, a demon, a screaming little cunt, and that’s all I would ever be seen as. This is the year I learned why I liked demons more than angels, and why God was my enemy. This is the year I realized for real that I was alone in this cruel fucking world and no amount of crying or talking or begging will ever make them hear me. They smile and laugh. They smile and laugh. They smile and laugh. :) 

6, late stages, My Sunday school teacher is so nice to me! He has a fun secret that only him and I share! I love him, he takes good care of me. He makes me feel good and special inside. I think deep down…I know it’s not okay. But I can’t help it. Actually, I am really scared because I see the way he looks at me and I feel queasy. I know this is wrong but I am scared he’ll hurt me if I say no. He said that God will tell him if I tell anyone what he does, and if God knows I am bad then I will go to hell. I don’t want to go to hell!! I’ll do whatever you say! I promise. I’m a good little girl. I’m an angel! 

6, early stages, my mommy and daddy broke up. They are fighting in court for me, and I don’t really know what that means. Mommy said the church is helping dad pay for good lawyers so she probably won’t get custody of me. I don’t know what that means. Mommy says daddy is bad and evil. Daddy says mommy is bad and evil. I don’t know who is telling the truth. Or maybe they both are. Or maybe I am the bad and evil one?

5, My dad visits me every night and calls me his little angel. :) I am his sweet angel! His breath smells funny though. And his fingers hurt me a lot, and I don’t like the way he tastes. But he said since I am a good angel it’s okay, so he must be right. 

4, Daddy and mommy fight a lot, my daddy has bottles in his hands a lot. He breaks them a lot. He hits mommy a lot. I am scared so I go hide. I am a being of terror. 

3, I am a toddler but there’s a version of me that remembers that he started existing at this age. He did everything he could to protect me. Even though he didn’t really know why. Thank you, Deimos.

2,

1,

0. I am just a twinkle in my mother’s eye, she’s just a teen and she’s scared out of her mind. This baby is saving her life, though. She didn’t want to keep going but now she has to. If only she knew that 25 years from now this baby would be a shattered and broken mess of themself, because of things desperately out of their control. They were just a baby. You failed them. They all failed them. They all failed US. Too bad you were a Christian. Maybe instead we could have been aborted. Or, rather, maybe we wouldn’t have step foot in that fucking church in the first place.

[fioreofthemarch]

Finding Her - Chapter 12

Link makes notes, takes photos and keeps time on his quest across Hyrule, in the hopes of finding Zelda and staying sane until he does. [ Previous | Next | First | AO3 ]

A video recording lasting approximately 60 seconds. Blurred, jumbled images, panning wildly until: a Yiga footsoldier comes into view. He examines the Purah Pad, tapping and shaking it. Behind him is an old hut surrounded by a log-spike barricade.

09:55: So this is the Hero’s new contraption? Can’t believe it was so easy to swipe off him.

A Yiga blademaster appears over his shoulder, and sheathes an Eightfold Longsword.

09:56: I have dealt with the Hero. Knocked him 20 feet clear of the barricade. Denki, stop toying with that thing, we must take it to Master Kohga.

The footsoldier looks up at the blademaster and points, angry.

09:56: I swiped this, Sota, not you! Give me a minute to see how it works at least. I wanna blow something up or, or freeze time or— Hey!

The blademaster reaches for the Purah Pad. The images blur as the pair jostle for the device. 

09:57: Enough, let go! 

09:57: Idiot, you’ll break it! 

09:57: We are wasting time! 

09:58: Hands off!

The camera abruptly steadies, as the footsoldier relinquishes his claim on the Purah Pad to the blademaster. The footsoldier suddenly startles, and begins looking around frantically. 

09:59: What is the matter now, Denki? 

09:59: There was a noise. Did you hear that–?

The camera pans sharp left to: Link, leaping over the barricade, an axe in hand. He advances on the camera at speed. The Purah Pad is dropped and the images scramble. 

10:01: HYAAAAHHHHH!!

---

Log date: 10:15. 7th month, 18th day 104AC. Location: Yiga Hideout, The Great Plateau Weather: Cloudy

Good, this still works. No other damage that I can see. 

Lost focus, dropped my guard. Damned Yiga. Their compound seemed abandoned and I knocked, knocked, on their front door. Deserved to have the Purah Pad swiped. Got it back easy enough though. The cowards that were here fled once I gave them a real fight. 

Bittersweet to be back here. Zelda and I visited not long after the Calamity. The place seemed haunted, by grief instead of ghosts. Zelda called it the birthplace of Hyrule, and said she felt a loss here that she couldn’t explain. Never came back after that. 

Was heading south-west from Akkala, towards Gerudo, with the usual diversions. A Skyview Tower here, a Shrine there, breakfast with Penn at South Akkala Stables – he says next mystery we solve together he’ll have some more froggy armour for me. Saw the Great Plateau rising on the horizon and figured I could spare a day or two for another detour. 

Decided to stay in the woodcutter's hut on the east side of the Plateau. After all, it was the first place I knew, after I woke up. The first bed I slept in, the first cookpot I used — what was it we made? Spicy meat and something fry, traded for a warm doublet courtesy of the old man. Simpler times. The last King and the last Knight of Hyrule, sharing a meal… 

The Yiga are getting bolder. This is the second surface-side hideout I’ve found and by their maps they have a third. They impersonated Zelda in Necluda and were running some kind of magical cucco scam in Akkala. Feel my patience for them wearing thin. It’s been a little while since I’ve seen their leader, Kohga. We’re due a rematch, wherever he is. 

Another time. Now that I’m here, I’d like to have a look around. 

A photograph of the Great Plateau with its evergreen trees and rolling landscape. The Temple of Time is in the foreground, ahead of a gentle hill that rises towards the overlook leading into the Shrine of Resurrection. A campfire is burning, just off the pathway up the hill. 

Caption: Hyrule might have been born here, but so was I, and home is calling. 

---

A photograph of a handwritten note. On closer inspection, it has been pinned to the red and black fabric of a Yiga stealth suit. The note, and the Yiga, are badly bloodied. 

TO ALL YIGA, LIVING OR DEAD.

Tell your Master: I know where he is hiding. 

This footsoldier disguised as ‘Zelda’ told me. He tried to flee but, hard to teleport away with a knife through your hand. 

Look upon the scars I left when he returns to you. That was me being kind. 

Use whatever tactics you want to fight me: disguises, ambushes, duplicity, I don’t care. Fight me and lose, any time you want. 

But use Zelda as bait again, and I will have no more use for kindness. You think me being a Knight of Hyrule prevents me from harming others. Well the Knights of Hyrule are all dead. 

There is no one left to answer to.

And no one left to protect you from me. 

— Link

---

Log date: 13:10. 7th month, 19th day 104AC.  Location: The Shrine of Resurrection, The Great Plateau Weather: Partly cloudy. 

Zelda, you’re going to love this. I ran into you again. You were as pretty as ever, and also – not real! Well no. You aren’t going to love this. I can’t tell you what happened here. This whole entry is a write off. 

Didn’t know I had it in me. Seeing ‘you’ again, and having that taken away by yet another one of those Yiga idiots… It wasn’t rage I felt, it was cruelty. Rage is a response, like an allergy, you can’t control it. Cruelty is a choice. And I chose. 

I’m lying here, in this forgotten place where I lay once before, letting the warm waters of the spring heal my wounds. What happened to the Shrine here? And the boy you had laid down inside? 

There’s another hideout here in this cave but it’s abandoned, actually abandoned this time. I checked the whole place for traps (mostly banana themed) but nothing. I suppose the Yiga I interrogated lived to get my message out, and fast. I took his mask, you know, before I let him leave. Goddess preserve me, Zelda. He was younger than you and I. 

It’s not that he was crying by the end of it. It’s not even that he begged to be allowed to live. It’s that I didn’t care. I felt nothing. 

What the hell is wrong with me? I can’t tell you any of this. I can never, ever tell you… 

I realised something, at least. When I ran into the Yiga disguised as you, I knew something was off right away. The differences were subtle, but I know your perfections and imperfections like my own. I knew it wasn’t you, as much as I wanted it to be. And I realised I’ve had the same feeling for a long time, after seeing you in each of the Temples with the Sages. I wish I was certain. I’ve only got my memory, and I trust that about as far as I can throw it. 

Speaking of throwing. The Goddess Statue in the Temple of Time has asked me to throw a bunch of eyes down into the Depths, and you know what? Sure. Anything to get my mind off things right now. 

Save entry before closing? 

> Log settings

Settings: Attach photograph, save, or delete log?

> Delete log

Log deleted. 

---

A photograph of the bargainer statue beneath the Great Abandoned Central Mine. The statue is enormous, filling the frame and the cavern in which it is housed. Its quadruple eyes pass no judgement, only observe. 

A photograph of the Secret Spring of Revival, with its eerie sparkling waters and ancient structures. Poes float above the surface of the water, their radiance beckoning. 

A photograph of an open plain in the Depths, fern-like trees twisting upwards. A great, shambling beast sits in the middle. On its back are spines of Zonaite, barely visible. Its glaring yellow eye looks towards the camera, suspicious. 

A self-portrait of Link, standing by a chest in a forgotten mine. He wears odd-shaped trousers that glow like a lantern. He has a neutral, if slightly amused look on his face. 

A photograph of a Yiga Hideout, patrolled by footsoldiers on customised Zonai wings. White grasses obscure part of the image; the photographer is hidden among them. 

Caption: This place is surprisingly peaceful. No wish to fight anymore, today. Will leave the Yiga to their fun. 

---

Log date: 13:25. 7th month, 21st day 104AC Location: Birida Lookout, Gerudo Highlands  Weather: Snowing

Travelled as the crow flies from the Great Plateau to the Gerudo Highlands thanks to a revised hover-glider I built in the Depths. 

Been a while since I’ve checked what Zelda was up to. Hankering to see the real deal, and not a ghost, or a disguise. Headed to a geoglyph east of here. The kneeling man - King Ganondorf. 

Have a terrible feeling that I know the name well, but not how. From the memory I just saw, it seems like Zelda felt the same way. 

She was facing so much: being stuck in the past, caught up in political bickering, and eventually, a war. But she seemed so calm. Seemed like she was handling things a lot better than I am. 

What have I achieved, exactly, in the past two and a half months? I’ve wandered around, knocked a few monsters on the head, helped a few people out, sure, but then I also terrorised some Yiga, and have made no progress in finding Zelda.

She wouldn’t wallow in self pity like this. Gotta stop wasting time. Gotta get back on the trail, on the job, and out of my head. 

A photograph of the red cliffs of the Gerudo Highlands, and the geoglyph painted there. Taken from ground level, the kneeling figure it depicts is warped and squashed, and looks somehow even more sinister than usual.

Caption: He seemed friendly…

---

Log date: 8:45. 7th month, 22nd day 104AC Location: Washa’s Bluff, Hyrule Ridge  Weather: Clear

Another geoglyph. The standing woman - Queen Sonia. 

I didn’t plan to detour here. I wanted to head straight into Gerudo Desert, but saw in my notes that there was another geoglyph and figured, with effort and determination, I could make it there within a day. 

I’m glad I did. Learned a few things. 

First: why Zelda was so calm. She had Sonia and Rauru watching over her, giving her every bit of parental kindness and guidance that she’d never had. Wish I had a way to thank them.

Second: that I was right. Seeing Zelda in the past again confirmed that the Yiga made a poor copy, and that the ‘Zelda’ we’ve been seeing at the Temples isn’t her. I feel it in my bones. Someone is trying to fool us: don’t know who, or why, but I do know we haven’t found Zelda yet. 

And last: I will find her. Not because of my own rage or stubbornness or ego, but because of her faith in me. The way she spoke about me to Rauru and Sonia… what did she say? My heart is good and true! I don’t know I deserve that. I don’t get everything right. I can be distracted, impulsive. I have a temper now, one that frightens me. I don’t cover my left side well and get most of my scrapes and cuts that way. 

But I’m a hero in Zelda’s eyes, so I must have been one, once. That faith is enough to keep me going, and make me want to be one again. 

Going to recover the log I deleted. If she ever reads this, I want her to know the mistakes I made, see the times I went too far, and know that it was her, always her, that made me want to be better. 

A photograph of the gazebo on Washa’s Bluff. In the background is the neighbouring Illumeni Plateau, the grass there decorated with Sonia’s shining geoglyph. The summer sun gives the photograph an over-saturated, nostalgic quality. 

Caption: One more hour resting here, and then no turning back. 

[unorcadox]

In your opinion, what makes a good weirdcore/ dreamcore photo

What elements have to be there

Also, are the word messages in the images just put in there for effect, or do they relate to real life and common fears?

Thanks

Btw I am currently trying to cross over this art aesthetic with traditional fine art and collage, so if your interested then I will post them on my Tumblr blog when done

Have a good one

gonna put this response under a cut bc it's long <3

hi! i'll go down the questions in a numbered list for easy formatting :)

"what makes a good wc/dc photo, what elements have to be there?" this is a really complicated question tbh! "good" is subjective of course and while that might not be what you're looking for, i think it's worth keeping in mind that i'm just one stranger on the internet -- plenty of edits that are/were loved on r/weirdcore or weirdcord are ones that i felt were underwhelming or even straight up not wc at all. that being said, i think a basic understanding of the fundamentals is a good idea for at least starting out, but don't let it limit you! the main like core tenets of weirdcore visuals are low quality (mostly via jpg compression but you can also use blurring, sharpening, and other effects to help embolden this for various purposes) and an older-web, less-polished/"corporate" feel to the images. plenty of wc images have super complicated visual effects, elaborately constructed menus, 3d models and renders -- which at least for the time looked futuristic -- but the visual glue that holds them together is that the presentation is less sleek and polished so that it gives off more of a 2000s era visual style. @mkr-2002 and @etherealascend are probably the editors that i think best illustrate the "more complex concept" end of this scale, making such elaborate digital collages that still retain the overall feel and look of the rest of the "genre" if you will. this answer is too long already but i'd say look around the big blogs, r/weirdcore and weirdcord if you want to join because they have the best understanding of it visually. OH and there is the aesthetics wiki page as well, but i don't know how up to date it is.

"are the word messages in the images just put there for effect, or do they relate to real life?" this is subjective, but i try to mix the two! some are very personal, some are completely made up. this goes for the sillier edits and for the more serious ones. i know some people view heavier, darker, "vent-ier" edits to be walking dangerously on the line between wc and traumacore, but it's really up to you to decide how you want to use the captions in that way. i'd personally be wary of using really common captions and tropes as they tend to make edits feel less unique overall, but even then some edits make them work! as with all art, the rules are a lot less concrete and more so guidelines you interact with before learning to break them.

"i am trying to cross over this aesthetic with traditional art and collage" interesting! i think the idea has a lot of potential, and i hope it goes well :)

[yayforocs]

Day 7- Personality

i hadn't actually posted this yet and i realized this would work pretty well for today's prompt :V

this is a lil drabble i wrote out to kinda feel out the twins' characters after i drew em :0 so it technically fits the prompt i think!

anyway here's the twins \o/

---

Not that one.

Not that one.

That one might be worth it. He clicked it open in a new tab and then kept scrolling.

Not that one.

That one looked good, but was way too far of a commute, unless he didn't actually go back home after graduation and moved closer to the job. By himself.

Not that one.

Not that-

Russ didn't react as his door was abruptly burst open, knowing full well by the loud steps that it was his sister- who promptly slammed her phone down on the desk by his laptop.

He glanced over at it, screen dark. He looked up at her.

"Ok...?"

"I got-" Her eyes then darted down to her phone screen, and she jerked it back up. "Wait holdon I accidentally-" A second later she put it back down, albeit a little gentler, and holding it differently so as to not turn the screen off again. "I found something!"

Now when he looked at it, he saw what he was meant to see: a listing of available positions at the old Freddy's back home. He raised an eyebrow but didn't ask anything until he read over all of it.

Zoe beat him to it, anyway. "There's an opening for a technician and they're even offering training. There's also a couple other spots- one's a cook, which I guess I could do, but I'd much rather be a cast member, which is also available. Look, we can both go and do something together! Sort of! Might have different shifts, assuming we both get hired, but it'd be the same place. I don't think it'd be hard to get in, though, fresh graduates and all," she finished, inclining her head in an intentional look.

He stared at it for a few seconds more before giving in. "Alright, send me the link," he sighed, pulling up his messenger app. Her phone was back in her hands for barely two seconds before the notification popped up, and he clicked on it.

"Cool, if you're good with that I'll go send in mine, too." And as quickly as she came, Zoe left.

Russ pushed his mouth to one side as he re-read the information. Awfully convenient, if he had to be honest, but it was at Freddy's. ...Granted, last he'd heard anything of it, it was under new management and going well, or at least well enough. This opening though was specifically for upkeep of the big stuff- not just arcade games, but the lights and sound of the whole place, as well as... the infamous animatronic performers. He grew up there, he and Zoe went to Freddy's as kids, and he remembered liking it well enough, but then he got older and learned about all the stories and rumors and possibly/probably very real tragedies that happened there. Or if not there, at least in the franchise's history.

He opened a new tab, and searched up the place by itself. There was the first result, with all the business information- open hours and such- and reviews. He clicked. Three and a half star average, decent amount of reviews. He scrolled. Mother whose kids loved the place, babysitter who commented on how clean it was, someone upset that they didn't get a refund on pizza they decided they didn't want after eating half of, another mom that said she felt her kids were safe there- a bit of an on-the-nose review, considering, but it worked- a dad whose girls loved Foxy, and someone that praised a Mr. Schmidt. He supposed that was the new management. The reviews continued similarly. So mostly good, as the average said. Lots of blank reviews, but the ones that were written in provided what he was looking for.

He closed the tab and pulled up his resumé.

---

Across the hall and a door down, Zoe had already submitted hers and posted a motion-blurred picture of her laptop screen on her social media's stories tab, captioned "Just sent off my first job applications!!!" with several emojis accompanying, including some crossed fingers and prayer hands. There was a whole batch she'd sent out, but only the Freddy's one was something that'd actually keep the twins together, and bad history or not, she wanted that one to be the one that worked out the most.

Her phone dinged with a reply to her story.

< Did you do it? 👀

She laughed to herself.

Yeah girl ofc!! A jobs a job n I intend to get paid 👀 > < Wym a jobs a job????? Don't die over a dare pls I do not trust that place worth anything That was all years ago, doesn't matter. Besides have u seen the guy running it now 👀👌 > < Ong do not 💀💀💀 he'll sic the robots on u and you'll deserve it Nah he won't. Rusty'll get em to like me n then they won't do anything > < You covince him?? < Convinced Yeah I didn't even need to really he just took it, so fingers crossed for the both of us🤞🤞🤞 > Covince > < Shut up I corrected it :) > Fr tho nah idc bout him he's prolly like forty or smth I'm not abt that > < I thought you meant Russ at first 🤣 I > Am not going to comment on that > < And then I read the rest of it chill out!!! Do I even wanna know what u thought before u read the rest of it or no > < I thought you were calling him old idk!!!! < Anyway unimportant < If u get it u gotta give me updates I already told you I'm not actually interested in him > < Stoppppp :) > Lol yeah I'll let you know 🤞 > < Gl!!! 🤞

The online indicator grayed out, and she locked her phone screen. After a moment, her eyes wandered to the calendar pinned on the wall. Two weeks. In two weeks, they could be back home, with fancy bachelor's degrees that could mean nothing or everything, doing who-knows-what. Looking for apartments, probably. But they'd need a job for that, first. Proof of income and all.

She looked back over the twenty still-open tabs of sent applications, and crossed her fingers.

[5ft2sunflower]

How Does A Beauty Influencer Suddenly Go Broke?

TORI CROWTHER

LAST UPDATED DECEMBER 15, 2022, 10:48 AM

You might know Annie Thomson (aka @a_day_in_the_life_of_annie on Instagram) for her fun and relatable beauty videos. Whether you're keen to see how that viral hair product performs IRL or sniffing out holiday gift recommendations for makeup people, you'll find it all on Thompson's page. What you might not expect to see, though, is a candid Instagram carousel about how she spent £7,000 (over $8,600) of her savings in a year, all to maintain her beauty blogging platform.

It came to a head, wrote Thompson on Instagram, when she realized just how much she had spent. "Fifty pounds [$60] here and one-hundred pounds [$120] there might not seem a lot to some," said Thompson, but it soon added up. "If a brand brought out six new lipsticks, I couldn't just be your normal consumer and choose one or two." She had to have them all. "I would take a photo for Instagram and then throw the products in my makeup [bag] — as they were old news."

For a handful of relatable micro beauty influencers like Thompson, posting on Instagram started in the pandemic. "Back in 2020, when I created my Instagram account, everyone was at home," Thompson told R29. Luckily, Thompson wasn't financially impacted by various lockdowns and found herself with some extra cash. "When you’re bored, you tend to shop online," she said. The odd product bought to review on her social platform soon propelled a small hobby into a full-blown compulsion.

It's no secret that the beauty industry thrives on consumption. A new skin-care brand, 'must-have' makeup product or buzzy beauty trend is conceived almost daily and beauty bloggers are at the center of it all, expected to bring us up to date. That's why Thompson isn't alone in spending her savings on beauty products to keep up appearances on social media.

You only have to scroll through Instagram or TikTok to realize that there's an epidemic of beauty content creators who have landed themselves in potentially dangerous money situations, including dipping into or blowing their savings and even encountering debt, while trying to make it big. "When you go broke trying to be an influencer," @christianchanel captioned a viral TikTok video with thousands of views and a handful of comments in solidarity. Similarly, TikToker @char_nella47 reports seeing popular influencers "drown in debt" to look expensive.

Some do make it big: Creators, formerly "influencers," we know and love (like Mikayla Nogueira, Abby Roberts and Amelia Olivia, for example) have millions of fans and followers, while others have exciting brand partnerships and lucrative deals. It's no wonder that plenty are keen to turn their beauty obsession into a business. Now, more than ever, the lines between regular consumer and micro blogger are blurred. Anyone can become an influencer with the right resources. In fact, it has been reported that TikTok users are 2.4 times more likely than other social media platform users to create a post and tag the brand after buying a product. But working your way towards the dream job can quickly become a burden.

"I have dipped into savings and even overspent on beauty items when I didn't have a steady monthly income," says beauty blogger Masha Solechnik, @beautefocus on Instagram. "It was a nightmare," adds Solechnik. "I would be very anxious about it, but I felt a real compulsive urge to buy things that I knew would make my Instagram more popular."

"I would be very anxious about it, but I felt a real compulsive urge to buy things that I knew would make my Instagram more popular." Masha Solechnik, @beautefocus

Likewise, Thompson admitted that she would needlessly buy products to gain a feeling of acceptance online. After all, getting likes, followers and engagement is rewarding. The attention that Thompson received after buying and reviewing eyeshadow palettes, lipsticks, and skin-care products gave her all the more reason to continue to create content.

The thing is, big-name beauty influencers are often gifted products from brands who want to be featured on their social channels. They are given a helping hand. It's different for many micro influencers or those wishing to establish themselves. They have to buy their own. And beauty doesn't come cheap. In the past year as costs have risen, brands such as Glossier, The Inkey List and The Ordinary have all announced price increases. Beauty products are the most expensive they've been since 2016, according to a recent report.

A former beauty blogger we spoke to who wishes to remain anonymous said that most beauty influencers she rubbed shoulders with at launch events and parties grew up with money and had the funds to spend on products to fulfill their beauty careers. For those who don't have the ready cash, beauty influencing can be a dangerous game, especially if you aren't sent free samples.

Perhaps the algorithm has a lot to answer for. Solechnik explains that beauty lovers in particular tend to feel a lot of pressure to buy 'buzzy' new products that trend well on Instagram and TikTok to prove that they are in the know. "If you want your blog to grow, you have to get popular products or the newest launches. It's encouraged, simply by how the algorithm favors this type of content," she explains. Sure enough, a quick scroll will serve up all manner of trending products, like Charlotte Tilbury Hollywood Glow Flawless Filter (30 million views on TikTok), Caudalie Detox Mask (32.2 million views) and Dior Backstage Rosy Glow Blush (37 million views).

It isn't just bloggers or content creators. We're all splurging. Bloomberg reports that TikTok shopping is expected to see an increase in spending on the platform, forecasted to go from $2 billion in 2022 to a staggering $23 billion in 2023. But while we may play with products in the comfort of our own homes, content creators are expected to share their opinions. And with social media built to keep you scrolling, it's no wonder beauty enthusiasts find it difficult to distinguish between a hobby and forced pressure.

It goes deeper than what's trending, as social media can hugely impact how we evaluate ourselves, explained Robert Common, psychologist and CEO of Beekeeper House. "By its very nature," says Common, "social media is set up to encourage consumerism and a materialistic mindset." Certainly, Thompson felt that social media persuaded her that she needed to own particular things. "I was constantly buying what was popular on the 'gram and I started to gain 1,000 followers, then 2,000." Thompson said she assumed that if she had the latest products, she would continue to grow her following. This was the false confirmation she needed to keep spending.

"People receive the message that the next purchase — whether it be a new beauty product or a new item of clothing — will bring them fulfillment," Common adds. "Of course, it never does." Thompson had numerous packages arriving weekly from expensive brands that she once saw as a treat, she told R29. Previously, such purchases would have made her happy. But the more she spent, the worse the feeling in her stomach: "The only thing I could do was bury my head in the sand and carry on buying more because I had to keep up."

Counseling psychologist Dr. Rina Bajaj agrees that the premise of social media is social connection. "This can set up the human need to want to be validated, liked, and from an evolutionary perspective, to be part of the 'in group'," says Dr. Bajaj. For beauty bloggers, the 'in group' is an online community whose core mindset is 'more is more.' First of all, this is detrimental to the environment, as consumerism encourages serious waste. According to Zero Waste, more than 120 billion units of cosmetics packaging were produced globally in 2018 alone. But it's also burning a hole in people's pockets.

For many like Thompson and Solechnik, what started out as an enjoyable hobby soon became a money pit. "The more likes you get, the more gratification you receive," Thompson explains. But the cycle of spending and posting ended up putting immense pressure on her bank account, not to mention her mental health.

This is where things can escalate, say psychologists. "It can be difficult to draw the line between a hobby we enjoy investing our time and other resources in and an activity that becomes a habit or an addiction," explains Common. "When addiction is involved, there's a cycle of shame and guilt that follows, so using excuses as to why you need to spend can be a way of avoiding those feelings."

Unfortunately for many small influencers in the beauty industry, addiction has long been passed off as enthusiast behavior and even encouraged. "Constantly changing trends can keep people hooked on wanting to stay relevant," says Dr. Bajaj, "as well as unconsciously [finding] ways to feel in control or better about themselves." Dr. Bajaj explains that it's easier to be in denial about the toll that overspending on beauty might have, and reports that a lot of influencers might think: "'I'm not hurting anyone' or 'Once my Instagram takes off I'll make the money back' or 'It's an investment'."

The rise of buy now, pay later schemes isn't helping micro influencers, either. Thompson said this was a huge part of the problem when she found herself spending a significant sum of her savings on beauty products to maintain her online presence. "It didn't seem so much of a problem because I wouldn't see a great big £500 [$612] come off my card," she explains. Thompson would use varied forms of payments to make purchases appear smaller, "then £100 [$122] on PayPal credit, £100 [$122] on my [debit] card and £100 [$122] on my credit card."

The experts agree. Buy now, pay later schemes are useful because they allow people to join programs or make purchases that ordinarily would be out of reach. However, there's a significant psychological downside, said Catherine Morgan, a trauma-informed, certified financial coach. "It postpones the pain to a later date," explained Morgan. This then creates patterns of behavior where it's easy to overspend.

Though many aren't so lucky, Thompson was able to curb her spending. The first step was recognizing that there was a problem. "I got all my skincare and makeup out and looked through it all. Quite honestly, I felt sick. There was so much, and one person cannot physically use all of it." Thompson is trying not to buy beyond her means. "Those extra few likes you might get on a picture genuinely equate to nothing in real life but a hole in your bank balance that you've then got to work harder to pay back." Solechnik said she eventually had to go cold turkey and finally accept the impact that her spending on beauty products really had on her savings.

Instagram beauty blogger Jessica Wallace embraces real skin texture, skin care, and self love. She has grown a following since cutting back on spending. "I definitely approach my Instagram differently now," Wallace told R29, "and I know I don't need the latest products to fit in." Wallace always makes use of the products she already has or waits until they are empty before she goes ahead and buys more. Considering the repercussions of cosmetics waste on the environment, not to mention the mental impact of staying informed on all things shiny and new in beauty, influencers across the board could consider this approach.

Finally, it's imperative to remember that social media is a highly-curated universe and that overconsumption doesn't equal success. "I feel like a toxic trait of Instagram is this immense pressure it can give people viewing these 'perfect lives' — that you need the latest product to make your life better," says Thompson. She believes it's important to follow those you trust to give you a real, unfiltered opinion. And whether you're an influencer or consider yourself a beauty enthusiast, Wallace has the last word: "No beauty product is ever worth getting yourself in debt for."

This story was originally published on Refinery29UK.

[kime11e]

I have a few things to say on this. I agree that a lot of the content that Anna posts seems to be in an effort to poke fun of Michael.

Particularly the Insta story where they’re watching Twilight. That struck me as peculiar because it never occurred to me Michael was the type to really watch his filmography back. In fact I’m sure there is a interview somewhere, where Michael expresses only being able to watch his work back for a short period and not much more.

I can’t seem to post the clip here but I’m sure most will be able to find it on the expanse that is the web. Anyway here is my description of it.

Anna is filming the tv which shows what seems to be the imminent stand-off between the Volturis and the Cohens and their allies (I am not a huge Twilight fan so pardon for not being completely versed in the characters) there is a caption that reads “the only right way to end my birthday” (basically she chose to watch this for her birthday). In the background you can hear *Gasps* and some commentary which sounds like someone mocking the scene and what’s going on. Then Anna pans to show Michael doing just that… and here is what I speculate Maybe Michael felt uncomfortable watching himself back and was trying to overcome that feeling by making fun of it. On his partners Birthday he would just go with what she wished and his way of getting through it was making light of the situation.

Another thought I had was that this reinforces that APAT was/is a Twilight fan. I mean if I’m going to watch a movie on my Birthday it’s going to be my favourite film. So it begs the question is Twilight her favourite film series? Or does having a Birthday mean making her partner watch himself and watching his reactions to his scenes. Anyway it’s an interesting choice.

Further to the other instastory content she posted. I totally agree that Anna seems to always be posting where he isn’t an active participant in the filming and photos she posts. The video of him at the parking meter not aware she is filming. Same as when he is playing an arcade game and she is filming him from behind. Then the images of the cocktail glasses, but no pics where they’re in the same frame or he is aware he is on camera. It makes me think that Michael isn’t all that willing to be involved in sharing content of intimate family time. However Anna wants to share as much as possible without his knowledge by way of awkward selfies, empty cocktail glasses , blurred pics, and the back of our favourite Welshman’s head… All I can say is CHOICES.

Self aggrandising about her famous partner treating her to a Birthday night out. However trying your best to not let on to your famous partner that you’re sneaking some shots here and there for clout.

At least to some extent we can assume that APAT is not pregnant (again) on the basis that those are alcoholic cocktails she is having… right? (Yes I do think they will have a 3rd child)

Is it just me or does it seem like Anna doesn’t have anything about Michael on her IG? I think the last thing I saw was when she and Michael went to see David’s play last year. Georgia hasn’t had anything about Michael either lately, but it just seems different. Or I’m reading too much into it. At least Georgia does have David on hers.

Hi there! I know you sent this several days ago and I've been a bit swamped, so apologies for taking so long to answer.

You are not at all reading too much into things, as a lot of what you mentioned is what many of us have noticed over the last few years, too. Anna puts Michael on her Insta when it's convenient/when there is something to sell (their relationship, typically). The most recent thing (before today, at least) was a picture from Mabli's first birthday party in May. Though she also posted this photo in a story on the same day that GO 2 was released (again, something to promote/sell):

This was obviously an old picture (likely taken midway through filming season 2, during the holiday break--so December 2021/January 2022), but it's telling that this is what she chose to post, instead of something new. And this again continues AL's pattern of posting terrible pictures of Michael, where he looks miserable and she looks smug. It seems like he was caught off-guard, too, as if she wanted a picture before he could put on his "game" face. There were so many choices happening here, and I'm genuinely confused by all of them.

Which then brings us today, and the bunch of photos/videos AL just posted for her birthday weekend, to again brag/show her "celebrating" with Michael. She posted multiple things, but I'm going to highlight these two in particular, as they stood out to me:

For those who can't tell, on the left is video of Michael at a parking meter machine, going to pay for parking. AL is making fun of him (again, which she has done multiple times previously), likely in an attempt to mimic the way Georgia pokes fun at David, yet lacking any of the underlying respect or affection that Georgia seems to have for David.

This (and AL's other stories from today) also continue her pattern of filming Michael surreptitiously/from a distance in order to generate content. In the story on the right, Michael is shooting basketballs and AL is standing behind him filming, rather than actually being in the moment, which gives the feeling of her wanting attention for herself more than wanting to enjoy her birthday with Michael. What also struck me about this and the other stories she posted is how cold and distant they seem. Pictures of empty drink glasses, a table, her sitting on the floor alone. The vibes are just completely "off" somehow, in my opinion, and it's noticeable.

What really stands out to me as well is that it doesn't look like either one of them were having that much fun. One thing we can say for certain about Michael and David--whether you ship them or not, whether you think something is going on between them or not--they always have fun together. We see it in the interviews they do, the interactions they have, how both of them are constantly smiling/laughing and there is never the feeling of one person monopolizing the spotlight--it's them, together, genuinely enjoying each other's company. Making each other laugh. And I just don't feel like that is the case with Michael and AL, because what I get from those stories today is a sense of obligation, rather than fun.

(I also think it's very telling and worth noting that in all of the stories AL posted, the only face that is full-on visible is her own...)

So yes, those are my thoughts on Michael being on AL's Insta and these new developments. As I've always said, I could be completely wrong about everything, but the fact that I've been getting more asks and comments about this makes me think others are starting to notice the questionable optics as well...

[trashinaglass-archive]

Stunt Job

Timothee&y/n and Tom&Z are both pr couples when they’re actually dating the other person in the stunt couple

A/n: The summary sucks, but hopefully y’all get what I’m putting down. My friend and I were talking about Tom and Z possibly being a pr couple (pls don’t @ me, it’s not that deep in this house, we’re just obsessed with celeb stuff, I promise😅) and this came to mind and I just thought it could be fun, so yeah.

I think this might be the longest thing I’ve ever written. And it kind of gets sloppy at the end. Sorry, but like at the same time, please enjoy.

The idea was presented before Dune started filming. It was a genius idea, you couldn’t lie. The four of you were great friends already, having a tangled web of connections. Tom and Zendaya in Spiderman. Zendaya and Timothee in Dune. Timothee and you in Little Women. You and Zendaya in Euphoria. It felt like you saw them more than anyone else in your life. It was only a matter of time before someone started catching feelings, and fortunately, it all worked out perfectly.

Tom made the first move, asking you to join him for dinner one night while filming Cherry. It was extremely awkward at first. You had done this hundreds of times as friends, but something about the word date made you both act like fools. But you eventually found your groove, and your relationship has only gotten better. Sometime along the way, Timothee and Z followed suit; their first date being an at-home picnic, bingeing as many Harry Potter movies they could fit in.

It was a genius idea. Although it did worry you a bit in the beginning, it quickly became a challenge between the four of you.

Who could make the fans swoon the most.

It was currently the night of the Oscars. You and Tim were at the hotel getting ready for the night while Tom and Z were at another hotel. You were texting your mom, letting her know how everything was going when you noticed a text from Tom.

“Did you see the post😂”

Oh god, you think with a sigh. You close the app without replying and open instagram. You didn’t even have to search for his account, it was the first one to pop up. It was a black and white photo of Zendaya sitting in the chair, makeup already done and two people beginning to work on her hair as they laughed along with her over something. The caption simply said wow.

You rolled your eyes, smirking as you already began to think of a picture to one-up theirs. You opened back the messaging app and replied with a picture of yourself. It was the complete opposite of Z; your hair in rollers, no makeup with a few pimple patches still on and masks under your eyes.

“Definitely talking about me, right”

You giggled to yourself at your own joke watching as he typed and sent, “of course❤️”

“Did you see Tom’s post?” Tim asked as he walked over to where you were set up.

“Yeah, he just text me about it,” you let him know. “But mine’s gonna be cuter.” You smiled confidently, throwing your eye masks off as your makeup artist tells you she’s ready to start.

. . .

The beading of the outfit was rough against your skin as you ran your hands down it. You walked over to where Timothee stood in front of the mirror, posing back to back as if it was planned. “Best dressed of the night,” he smirked, turning to face you.

“For sure,” you replied with a breathy laugh. You did the handshake you had made up forever ago. “Oh, let’s do a selfie.” You moved him to stand behind you as you leaned your body against his, his arm wrapping around the front of your neck and grabbing the opposite shoulder. You angled your head slightly toward his and made a kissy face as he looked at you and simply smiled. “Perfect.”

. . .

People say the night was a blur so much, it almost seems cliche, but honestly.

The night was a blur.

Walking the red carpet was always a frenzy, but it was also so fun. The two of you “bumped” into Tom and Zendaya, having the opportunity to take a mental break and just have a fun, albeit quick, chat. You couldn’t stop complimenting Z. She always had the most gorgeous red carpet looks, and tonight was no exception. Tom gave you a quick kiss on the cheek, making sure to let you know how beautiful he thought you looked.

“Therefore I have worth,” you teased, making Zendaya burst into laughter followed by Timothee. Tom rolled his eyes, used to the references from his own movies by now. “You look great, too, gorg.” You noticed people calling for you and Tim. He nodded his head, acknowledging them before looking back toward the rest of you. You said quick goodbyes, reminding them to meet in your room tonight after everything was over, and continued on your separate ways.

You posed for the cameras, separately at first. You nodded a short smile at the cameras before backing away, making your way closer to Tim but not yet making your presence known to him. You watched him, admiring the boy in front of you, while trying to hide laughs at how easily your strategy worked. You couldn’t wait to see how the pictures turned out. Someone finally called your name, causing Timothee to turn around to see you behind him. He laughed gently, “didn’t know you were there. Sorry.” He offered his hand for you as you smiled.

“No worries,” You said softly as you took his hand, moving to stand next to him. You went for the simple arms linked behind the back while your hand was in your pocket and leaning your head against him with a soft smile before changing slightly, your hand against his abdomen. “I can’t think of anything else,” your whispered, smiling brightly up at him. You saw what must’ve been a light bulb go off in his eyes because he was moving almost instantly.

“Let’s do the prom pose.” He moved the stand behind you, with your bodies angled slightly, his hands wrapped around your waist and holding your own. You couldn’t help but laugh, making it a little more dramatic than necessary, leaning your head back to look at him. A few more poses were done before his agent told him they needed to head inside.

The show, unlike the red carpet, seemed to drag on for so long. Clapping every few minutes for a new celebrity as well as smiling constantly in case a camera landed on you, it got old pretty quick. You were practically counting down the minutes until it was over.

The show went on for hours. You could tell everyone else was just as ready to leave as you were. Sighs and watches being checked happened every few minutes now. It was almost comical. Thankfully, it wasn’t much longer before the hosts were coming back out to wrap up the show. Everyone dispersed, stopping to congratulate winners, and made their way to whatever after party they were invited to.

It was such a difference from the show. People talking over loud music as they danced and drank whatever they could get their hands on. The two of you stayed for a few drinks, but left pretty early, preferring to spend time with your people rather than some people you probably won’t see for another year. You left hand in hand, Tim’s coat across your shoulders to shield you from the cold as you head for the hotel, opting to walk as it wasn’t too far away.

The woman at the desk greeted you both as you walked in. You smiled to her as Timothee responded and made your way to the elevator. Taking his coat off your shoulders, you hand it back to him, laughing as he told you about something Benedict had said to him as they were backstage at the show. Once you reached the room, you made a beeline for the bathroom. Taking off the makeup, pulling pins from your hair, and removing the now itchy clothing, opting for the biggest t-shirt you had packed. It was such a relief to be in comfy clothes after so long.

You sat on one of the beds as you wait for the other two to show up. Pulling out your phone, you look up photos from tonight. There were so many to chose from. The one being shared the most was of Timothee standing by himself, one hand in his pocket, but facing you, stood behind him with a soft smile, your hand in his extended one.

They’re so cute

I want what they have

Y/n looks so shy and he’s so sweet with her😭

The comments and photos kept rolling in. You opened instagram, adding the photo of the prom pose first and then your selfie from earlier.

Who needs an Oscar when you can have a Timothee😍

Right as you click post, a knock sounded at the door. Timothee got up to let the other two in. Tom loudly announced his presence as he walked through the door, wasting no time to walk over to where he saw you leaning against the pillows. He opened his arms like he was gonna lean in for a hug, but instead flopped down right on top of your body, causing you to groan at his sudden weight. “I missed you,” he said in a softer sing-songy voice.

You laughed at him, “how much alcohol did you have?”

“Not much,” he shrugged, his head cozy in your neck.

“That’s a lie!” Zendaya shouted, in the midst of removing her own makeup. “He had at least eight beers.”

“That’s not a lot!” He shouted back, sounding defensive. “I am an Englishman. I know how to hold my alcohol.” Zendaya shot back a sarcastic okay before going back to the bathroom. “Did you have a good day?” Tom whispered, looking up at you as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

You nodded your head, whispering a quiet yeah.

“Yeah?” Tom repeated, moving so his face was aligned with yours. “You looked beautiful tonight.”

“I just wish I got to go with you,” you sighed, moving your chin so that your nose bumped against his. He gave a soft smile, leaning down to plant his lips on yours for a short kiss, in a silent apology.

“I’m here now,” he offered.

“Yeah, me too,” Timothee spoke from the couch across the room, reminding you of his presence. “Y’all need some drinks, condoms? What’s that Mean Girls quote?”

You breathed out a laugh. “You should go check on Zendaya. Show her how the shower works or something.”

His eyes lit up. “That is a great idea,” he said as he stood up swiftly, walking into the bathroom and closing the door.

You both chuckled at his reaction. “At least your fake date is a guy that has to be told if it’s okay fuck or not,” Tom joked.

“At least he respects her personal space,” you joked back. “You’ve been up in mine from the moment you walked through the door.”

“Oh, so you want me to leave?” He asked with a smirk as he began to stand up.

“No!” You whined, grabbing his collar to close the distance between your bodies again so that you were chest to chest. “This is perfect.”

He smiled against your lips. “Perfect,” he said simply, pressing his lips to yours once more as hands began to wander.

You ran you hands up and into his hair, gripping it before pulling away slightly. “Did you see my post?” You whispered, not able to help yourself.

“Shut the fuck up,” Tom breathed out a laugh making you laugh out loud.

[katsukikitten]

Part one. Master list for plus one can be found here.

Just a nice fic I decided to write for fun. Please enjoy!

Asshole!

He was nothing but a huge, giant fucking ASSHOLE for the entire two years the two of you were dating and he decides NOW is a good time to break up with you?

Two days before your cousin's wedding and over TEXT MESSAGE?!

That fucking asshole.

He knew how you felt. Exactly how you felt about going alone to your cousin's wedding after your family begged to meet your boyfriend and teased you for "probably making him up." Which hell, he may as well have been made up considering how absent he was in the relationship. Using work as an excuse to come home late but forgetting to turn off his snap location when he showed up at the bar.

So you did what any rational woman in her upper twenties would do.

You drowned your sorrows in booze, tonight red wine as it was the only thing around, and you scrolled through your socials in hopes of distracting yourself from your suffering.

Alas the devil that is Instagram only amplified your sadness and irritation. Showing couple after couple, your friends on hikes kissing on the mountain top, kissing in the flickering light of candles at a fancy dinner or, worst yet, getting proposed to. The video showing her in hysterics screaming, "YES I DO I DO!"

And it feels terrible to feel this way. Especially about your friends, the people you love and want to support, still it stings. You hadn't told anyone about the breakup, you weren't even sure your friends even remembered that asshole's name.

A teardrop lands on your screen, magnifying all the magical lights of the led beneath the glad. You wipe away the tear and with that the feed refreshes. A new post has come in at the top, Res Riot's official account.

Kirishima stands with a fat white cat in his arms. He dwarfs the animal with his large stature that looks larger as he still has his Red Riot gear on. The caption reads something along the lines of "missed my precious baby."

Red wine is a dangerous thing as your body acts on its own. You go to his page to hit the little arrow to DM him. Typing out and backspacing your message as you struggle from the booze, you decide to say fuck it and use the voice memo feature. Before you know it your sniffling voice is playing back to you after you've hit send.

"My ex broke up with me before this stupid wedding. It's in two days and my family is going to roast me big time when I show up alone. They think I made that asshole up. I don't know why I'm even in your dms. Your account is probably run by some dick head who can't even capture your kindness. I guess I'm here cause my first thought seeing you on my timeline was Red Riot has always been my hero…"

Ugh totally fucking cringe.

There is no surprise as you see the three normally ominous dots pop up, probably his social media manager about to ask you to stop your "advances" as Kirishima is too busy to date and he'd hate to block you or some other bullshit.

But there it is a surprise to see a little bubble with the play button and some vertical lines in various heights. It takes your sluggish brain a moment to realize you've been sent a voice memo. Odd. Your thumb smashes the screen faster than you can think and a deep voice rumbles through the speakers of your phone.

"Actually I run my official and personal socials. And I'm sorry to hear about your ex doll. He sounds like a real ass. I'll be your hero, I'll go with you to the wedding."

Your heart stutters, no way, no way in HELL this was Red Riot. You had read about the horror stories before or pervy account managers taking advantage of women who so desperately wanted to talk to their hero.

Hell, it's happened to Dynamight plenty of times.

You swallow quickly but the bile rushes up your throat. Not just from the anxiety of a possible con but from drinking an entire bottle of wine with nothing on your stomach after months of sobriety. Quickly you stumble to the bathroom, abandoning your phone on your bed. You barely make it in time to praise the porcelain Gods before you fall onto your back. Looking up at the light in your cramped bathroom, the orb doubles and spins as you feel the Earth turning on its axis. You curl into your side using your bathmat as a pillow as you drift off into sleep, totally forgetting about the voice memo on your phone.

As you sleep peacefully on your memory foam bath rug, Kirishima settles into his nightly routine. One giant hand grabbing strands of long dark red hair into a towel while another sits snugly around his Adonis belt and the thick, black happy trail that follows up the center of his abs before spreading out onto his chest. He tosses the towel over the open door of the bathroom before sitting in his favorite armchair with phone in hand. Diamond, his beautiful white cat he rescued a few years ago, jumps onto the arm of the chair, purring loudly when Kirishima's free hand scratches her ears absentmindedly.

He chuckles to himself as he realizes exactly what he's done. Acting on a feeling instead of logic all because he heard a "damsel in distress." Starting off his rare vacation with spontaneity starting with an impromptu date with a stranger. He really isn't sure what you look like and it's obvious your handle doesn't have your real name in it, just PrincessPeach with some random numbers at the end. He takes the time to scroll through your profile. Seeing pictures of food, of many sunsets, a friend's dog that guest appears often, your own cat and plenty of strays.

It takes him a while before he sees a photo of you. His heart stutters in his chest as he looks you over. Laughing with a friend, soft lighting from strings over head that blur like little fireflies. Your smile is wide, half hidden by your hands as your eyes seem to smile with you. Sparkling as if they held stars.

For a moment Kirishima forgets how to breathe, it isn't until Diamond jumps down from the armchair does he inhale. He smiles softly to himself before he drops his towel, puts his phone on charge and promptly falls asleep in his bed.

Kirishima rises before the sun even has a chance to filter through his blinds. He sighs softly, getting up to a sitting position disturbing a fluffy white ball that lays beside him.

"Mmrow." Moon stone eyes blink slowly as they look at the mountainous man hogging the bed.

"I didn't mean to wake you sweet baby." He says softly, going to pet the soft white fur only for her to get up stretch and give him her butt before plopping back down.

"I know, mean ol' daddy woke you up too early again." He says softly, his hand falling onto her back before he rises from the bed. Fishing for his running shorts, socks, headphones and shoes. He makes his protein shake, leaning on the counter as he drinks it, looking at how you read, or better yet, listened to his message but still no reply. It was late and there was a small slurring of your words, he figures you've passed out. He just hopes you're okay.

His run goes as usual, up before anyone else unless they were the normal avid runner. Passing by the usual array of people. An old man holding onto his youth by jogging through his daily five mile morning run, Kirishima knows he runs another five in the evening while the sun is setting. He hopes he can embody some of this man's commitment when he is older. Then he passes a middle aged woman, who gives him the biggest smile as she pases, jogging backward to send him a wink before plowing ahead. Occasionally he'll see a running group or a few teens training to be heroes, they always ask if they can run his route. "It's long." He always warns in a kind, warm voice. They assure him they will be fine so far only one other person could handle his 12 mile morning run. A young woman in her second year of hero courses at UA. Since then Kirishima put in a word with his boss and so every time internships roll around she's in the office.

By the time Kirishima is rounding back towards his high rise apartment, the city begins to stir. Slowly waking as men and women in business suits rush towards the train, parents flinging open the doors or curtains fussing at their children who cling to an extra few minutes of sleep before school.

This was always his favorite part of the run, not because it was almost over, oh no it was because he had a chance to glimpse at everyday life. Of nine to fives, of school hours and after school hangs outs at snack bars or the library.

What most would call the mundane but Kirishima would never call it that. It's why he worked so hard to protect it.

Diamond greets his sweaty form at the door. Glaring angrily with her moon stone eyes. Tail swishing before she goes to the kitchen by her bowl. Waiting impatiently.

"I'm not late, sweet cheeks." He coos, and she glares, "I know I know. You're hungry now."

He opens the fridge, gets out the highest quality food there is and places it on her dish, sure to keep it all in the middle or she'll claim her bowl was empty. He added a splash of water too since the weather was starting to get hot.

He sucks down a water or two, demolishes a protein bar and then heads to the apartment gym.

A few hours roll by and without hearing from you yet his worry over your well being begins to cloud the forefront of his mind. He pauses his music, picks up his phone and talks out a voice memo.

A loud DING echoes from your room and around your skull as you rise with a throbbing headache.

"Fuck." You hiss to yourself grabbing at your head as you shakily rise to your feet. Yanking the handle of the faucet to drink from the stream before looking at yourself in the mirror.

"Ugh." You grunt ignoring your swollen face and eyes, yanking the mirror door open to snatch at the bottle of aspirin. Swallowing THREE extra strength pills before slamming the door shut and turning off the faucet. You make your way towards your bedroom, more than ready to sleep the rest of your day away. Grabbing at your phone to charge it you see the push notification of an Instagram message from Red Riot.

The fucking Red Riot.

Internally you scream before it bubbles up your throat and escapes. You fumble to unlock your phone before looking that it's a voice memo.

Mortified you realize you sent one too. And first at that.

"Fuck MEEE!" You plop onto the bed. Nervous this second voice memo is probably about how you're a weirdo or something as you relive the memory of asking him to be your plus one.

Hesitantly your thumb hovers over the play button before you find the strength to press the cool glass. A soft thunderous voice plays out.

"Good morning sleepy head. I haven't heard from you yet, I hope you're okay. Be sure to drink some water and eat something greasy. Trust me, late nights with Denki and Bakugou taught me something. Since the wedding is tomorrow I'll need a picture of your dress for the color and style so I can match you Sweet pea. Contact me soon so I can know where to pick you up."

Did he… did he just call you SWEET PEA? Your heart pounds in your chest before it registers he's asked for your dress color and lowkey asked for your address. This couldn't be real. It sounded like Kirishima, his voice familiar from interviews you've watched but it very well could be a prank. Defeated you hit the small microphone and reply.

Kirishima hears a sharp DING in his headphones over his music as he finishes his set. He wipes the sweat from his face on his shirt giving the few people in the gym a lovely view of his sweaty and thick torso. One woman trips on the treadmill but it goes unnoticed by Kirishima. He pauses his music and hits play on the little memo. Your beautiful yet groggy voice comes in through his ear buds causing Kirishima to bite his lip. It causes such a flutter of butterflies in his stomach he has to listen a second time to actually hear what you said. Although he understand, he cannot help but feel hurt by your reply.

"How do I know you're not just some pervy guy using Kirishima's Godly looks to prey on unsuspecting people."

Your phone chirps at you from the bed stand and you growl reaching for it. You had hoped your message would have been clear. An unspoken of you know they're a fucking creep taking advantage of their PR job.

"What can I do to prove it to you, Sweet Pea?"

You hate how that cute nickname sends your heart into a somersault and your stomach in delightful knots. Still your doubt pulls a harsh tut from your lips before you reply.

Kirishima doesn't need his phone to alert him that you've messaged him, he's been looking at his screen for far to long without having to restart his set. He listens to your voice as if it were music.

"Fine, you wanna prove it to me so bad. Take a picture of yourself shirtless with the word 'Sweet pea' you love so much and send it to me. No photoshop I know what my favorite hero looks like!"

For over an hour you don't hear back and you figure you showed that perv.

But now you can't sleep so you nurse a water, door dash a "greasy" breakfast all before cranking your shower as high as it can go. Your phone dings and you try to ignore it. You really do but as the saying goes curiosity killed the cat. Opening the message you see a classic guy mirror selfie. Kirishima is clear as day in the photo, his large hand pointing to his bare, hairy chest where sweat pea is scrawled in his adorable handwriting. He winks at the camera as his kissable lips wear a dangerous, almost cocky eyes travel down his bulk following his happy trail that dives under a pair of black shorts, the best part of the view getting cut off by the vanity. At first you try to rationalize that this was fake but damning evidence was sitting on the vanity. A fluffy white cat in a diamond and ruby encrusted collar sits on the counter giving her owner an odd look.

His cat Diamond that everyone knows he loves and adores. Slick begins to collect between your thighs and especially so after you listen to the voice memo that comes through shortly after. His normally friendly and soft voice comes out a bit dark, husky as he says in a playfully annoyed tone.

"Now send me a picture of that dress, Sweet Pea."

[poptod]

Cyber Security (Elliot Alderson)

Description: An online ad leads him to you, though in reality he has little interest in your ad. What interests him is how you accidentally doxxed yourself and how oblivious you are to that fact.

Notes: idrk what to say about this one its one of those things that i wrote at midnight after almost falling asleep to a fantasy and then realizing it could work as a fic. like i did this same thing with ‘close your eyes’ that one was also a before-bed-to-get-to-sleep fantasy. this is also not a particularly romantic interaction, though it can be read as such WC: 2.2k

+

Sweat drenched his sheets, bathing him in the cold wind that breezed past his only air conditioner lodged in a nearby window. He stared blankly upwards, half shivering and half overheated, as he once again found himself in a familiar predicament—the practice of sleep.

It was no secret he had trouble calming himself down, and that aspect of himself reached into the evening, as well. He already downed three melatonin pills hours earlier, along with smoking a joint that should’ve put him to bed. Unsurprisingly, that did not work.

“Xanax,” he mumbled to himself, hearing it bounce back from empty walls. “Need to get xanax.”

In the meantime he raised himself to his feet, padding across freezing floors to his computer. With a click of a button the white screen buzzed to life, shining bright onto his sleep-heavy eyes, that did their best to acclimatize to the sudden change.

Hypnotization—strange as it might’ve been—had worked a couple times before. Not all the time, but decently enough to give it a try. He had work in the morning and he didn’t need to be more miserable than usual, especially since he hadn’t slept almost the entire weekend.

sleep hypnosis

The blinker flickered for a moment before his fourth finger slammed down on enter, the last step in calculated movements. What popped up first was a video titled [ SLEEP HYPNOSIS ] 8 Hour Loop with a screencap of a spinning black and white screen. Below that, however, was something he hadn’t seen before—a YouTube video titled exactly what he’d typed, lacking the caps just as he had. The title screen appeared to be some sort of poorly-drawn painting.

Curiosity overcame his hazy, aching head, and he clicked, finding a playlist of videos containing what could be the titles of songs, along with several different poorly-drawn title screens.

The first video began to play before he could realize it. What he first noticed was it was bereft of ads—that meant the publisher made no money off the album.

Sat in the presence of God

whose name means filthy old fraud

Captions had been manually added by, he assumed, you. The author. There were three views on the video, no comments, and no likes, leaving few other options.

Maybe it was the melody—maybe the lyrics, who talked of a world plagued by aristocrats. But he found his eyelids heavy, dropping dark eyelashes in his vision that blurred the screen. By the third song, reciting verses of an Islamic poem, he was slouched in his seat.

He slid down to the floor, crawling his way back to flop onto his bed. The music continued to play till the first ad popped up, at which time he opened his eyes, seeing a music video from Katy Perry, at which time he promptly reached over and unplugged his computer. He wasn’t sure which cord he pulled out, but the screen still went black. With that, he just barely sneaked into his covers, dozing until the morning.

It was far too easy to get information on you. Your full name was stated clearly in your youtube bio, alongside several different social media tags leading to instagram, tumblr, and facebook.

Facebook alone provided him the means to your address, and he didn’t even have to go looking for it. Your most recent post was an ad, searching for someone good with computers to aid you in your recording process, which you noted as ‘dismal’.

Are you fucking kidding me? He thought to himself, reading the ad once more.

Your address, your real, physical address was stated as the place you wanted to meet those interested in helping you. On the internet. You had doxxed yourself after less than a year of being online.

Okay, he thought, clicking on your listed email. Someone needs to be taught a lesson.

Three days later—after about two weeks of listening to your echoing voice every night—you replied, sending a cheerful email detailing when you would be available to meet him. After shooting a short message back, the date was organized.

Two more days and he was standing at your doorstep, his neck craned upwards as he scanned your tall, narrow home squished between two other apartments. He just barely knocked before the black door swung open, revealing a familiar face belonging to a stranger. Elliot was dressed in his black hoodie and jeans, a stark difference to your long, colorful robes, coming out of a sort of fantasy world.

“Hi,” he said, his voice grating with how low and quiet he kept it.

“Hello,” you said with a smile that did not match his hunched posture. “Are you Mr. Alderson?”

“Elliot,” he corrected, his chin just barely raising to meet you. “Elliot Alderson. Elliot works.”

“Alright,” you said, nodding. “Come inside? I was just making tea. Do you like tea? Or do you prefer coffee?”

“I... I’m fine, thanks,” he said softly, scooting past you when you opened the door wide enough for him to enter. He sucked in a breath as his chest brushed yours.

Your home was modern—far fancier than Elliot’s own apartment, with large windows flanked by soft grey curtains. A small, upright piano was in the corner of the living room, set upon a reed mat lined with Korean symbols. The couch was clinical, made of a sort of black plastic leather that matched the grey skies beyond the window panes.

He sat down, shifting his feet closer together as his fingers dug into his palms, continuing to scan the room in its’ entirety until you returned with your own tea.

“What kind of experience do you have? School counts,” you said, setting your cup down on a tiny plate whose decorations matched your teacup.

“I’ve been... experimenting, with computers, since I was around 9,” he said, mumbling the words out as his shoulders hunched awkwardly down. “Have a job at a cyber security firm. Started a while back.”

“You still have that job?”

“Yeah,” he said with a small nod. “Jus’ thought this would be... fun.”

The dead look on his face indicated no humor whatsoever, but you took his word as it was.

“How’d you find the ad I put out?”

“I... I listened to your music,” he answered honestly for once. “Helps me fall asleep.”

“Oh,” you said, clearly taken aback. Your face grew warm as you glanced away with wide eyes. “I’m glad I could help.”

“You’re not very good with technology, though,” he said in his usual low, grating voice.

“Not really,” you chuckled sheepishly. “That’s why I put out the ad -“

“No, not that,” he interrupted you. “You put your physical address on the internet. You doxxed yourself. Do you even know how dangerous that is?”

The lyrics of your songs pointed towards a kind of brilliance, balanced against emotions felt thoroughly on pages and screens. It didn’t match your actions at all.

“What’s doxxing?” You asked.

Elliot had to physically stop himself from sighing and leaving.

“You want everyone to know where you, a minor celebrity, live?”

“I’d hardly call myself a -“

“I could’ve been a murderer,” he said, reaching into his bag.

He looked you in the eye as he pulled out a gun, clicking on the safety before he pointed it at you.

“This is how easy it would be to kill you.”

As expected, you stiffened at the sight of the iron barrel, your fingers withdrawing to your chest. Your lips pursed as you met his gaze once more.

“Please put the gun down,” you whispered, your voice cracking.

He did as you said, resting the gun on the table.

“That’s a hell of a way to start an interview, Mr. Alderson,” you said quietly. “Please get out of my house.”

His heart sank. What had he expected? For you to fall to your knees and sing to him as he desired you to do? He threatened you with a gun to teach you a lesson, and you reacted accordingly. Calmer than others would.

Elliot stood on shaky legs, sliding the pistol into his backpack before he zipped it up. Throwing the pack over his shoulder, he swallowed through a tight throat, shuffling as he delayed his departure.

“Keep safe from people like me,” he said in a strained mumble. “Take that ad down. Meet people from the internet only in inhabited, public areas.”

You tapped your fingernails on the table for a moment, chewing on your bottom lip. Suddenly you stood, tugging on his sweatshirt sleeve to get him to face you, instead of staring at his feet.

“Alright. If you’re really so good at the internet -“

He ignored your incorrect grammar.

“- and... if you actually do want to help me with my songs,” your tone softened, “then you’ll be able to find my real name, not my stage name. If you do.. I’ll hire you.”

“Alright,” he said monotone, knowing the battle was already won.

Even though he knew your name already, he turned away and left to his apartment, immediately going to work on figuring out everything he could about you. If you willingly still offered him the job after that, he knew it would take a lot to scare you off. He could impress you.

It was, after all, the only thing he was good at.

Two days later he showed up at your apartment again, quietly thanking you when you let him in. The clean floors and walls remained unchanged since his last visit, and you led him to the same table, sitting him down on the same seat.

“Your name is (Y/N) (L/N),” he started with. You already appeared to be surprise. “You grew up near LA and you’ve had a chronic illness all your life. At eleven you saw your first therapist.. that must’ve been when you first got diagnosed with depression... and anxiety.”

“Killer duo,” you muttered.

“Your parents split when you were thirteen, which came at the same time as your dog, Penelope, died. Or... sometime that year. When was that... 1997?”

“1999,” you said quietly.

“Your mom homeschooled you,” he continued. “That’s probably why you don’t know how computers work. Rather eclectic, in a.. boring way... an ex-Amish, right?”

You nodded and his heartbeat tripled. Everything was right thus far despite a two year difference in his guesstimate of your life’s timeline.

“Then there was your dad... logger in the Redwood forests. Burly guy. Not a great man, from what I saw,” he said.

“He was fine,” you said with a small shrug as you looked away. “Didn’t ever hurt me, or anything.”

“Abuse isn’t always physical,” he said faster than he could think, dizzied by his own memories playing behind his eyes.

“I know,” you murmured.

You went silent, so he continued, hoping to pry more precious words from you.

“Your favorite color is yellow,” he said, leaning closer to you. “On Valentine’s you get chocolate strawberries, and on easter you get kinder eggs.”

Nothing.

“You studied mythology as a kid, and you made paintings of the forest you lived in with your mom. Santa Cruz mountains, I think.”

“Yeah,” you said. “I miss the forests.”

“I know. You want to visit Ireland again because it’s a land of faeries and moss, it’s a breeding ground for your song lyrics.”

“How did you find all this out?” You finally asked.

“You use the same password on everything,” he said, though that was far from the actual answer. “Your web browser tracks all your movements and you don’t try to stop it, or hide ads, or stay away from sketchy websites. Your parents aren’t much better, either.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you brought your hand to massage your brow.

“You’re way too smart to be helping me,” you said with soft laughter, blushing with your smile.

“It’s better than working for E Corp,” he said, huffing out a laugh that was hardly humored.

“E corp?”

“My.. uh, place of work,” he brushed off his slip. “My point is... I’d rather work with you and do easy work than work with my current fucking coworkers.”

You laughed, truly and fully this time, curling into a little ball that shook with the force of it. Your feet tucked into your tiny chair, making you even smaller.

“Bad people or just annoying?”

“Stupid,” he chuckled. “Don’t let me wear my sweatshirt.”

“Ooh, now it’s my turn,” you suddenly interrupted him, earning a strange look. “I’ve noticed things about you, too. I couldn’t learn anything off the computer, but you, you have anxiety too. Probably some childhood trauma.. maybe a dissociative disorder of sorts or a form of PTSD. Your jacket is like your home, and... you have sensory issues. Few types of fabric, don’t like to be touched, if I had to guess I’d say you might be autistic.”

“Blunt,” he said after a full minute’s silence.

“Do you mind?” You asked.

“No, not really.”

“Good. Then you’re hired,” you said with a smile, extending your hand for him to shake. “If you still want the job, of course.”

He watched you with evident apprehension, but took your hand after much thought, shaking with a firm grip.

“When do I start?”

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳: 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥/𝐕𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨 𝐒𝐞𝐱 (𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝)

Warnings: NSFW content. Read at your own discretion.

❥𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

Hongjoong's face lit up when your face appeared on the screen, waving enthusiastically at him.

"Hi Joong!" You greeted him.

"Hi baby." He adjusted the laptop so you could see him better

"How was the concert?" You asked him, to which he simply gave a shrug.

"It was nice and all....but you know... I'm really missing you."

You chuckled at how cute he looked pouting his lips out at you. Had you been there in front of him, you would have immediately kissed them with no hesitation.

"I'm missing you too Joongie. Don't worry, just a few more days and we'll see each other soon ok?" You assured him.

Hongjoong let out a whine.

"But baby....I need you now... I'm really missing you..." He repeated himself, his teeth biting down on his lower lip.

"I know Hongjoong, I know you're missing me like I'm missing you." You pouted back at him.

"No baby....I mean I'm really missing you."

Lowering his tone, he placed a hand in between his legs, slowly palming his growing hard on so you could understand his double meaning. Smirking at him, you got closer to the camera.

"Oh yeah? Why don't you show me just how much you've missed me Joongie...."

Hongjoong let out a moan when you lifted your shirt up and threw it over your head, showcasing the fact you weren't wearing a bra.

"Take yourself out baby, I wanna see you touch yourself."

Hongjoong immediately began ridding himself of his sweatpants, eager to please you and obey you as you commanded.

"Just so you know, Seonghwa is taking a shower." He didn't seem too bothered by that fact, and neither were you.

"It's ok..I'll make sure you're cumming before then."

❥𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

Your hand tried so hard to keep the phone close to your face, your lewd moans resonating through the speaker. Seonghwa could faintly make out the squealching sounds of your fingers playing with your wet hole, and it put a smirk on his face.

"You're doing so good baby, keep fucking yourself like that."

Although you were a panting mess and hearing your boyfriend give you orders over the phone aroused you to no end, you still didn't feel like you could actually cum.

"Seonghwa please-" You began whining.

"Please what princess?" He was practically purring into the microphone.

"Can't- I can't cum by myself. Need you."

He had to stop his hand from moving up and down his length at hearing you beg or else he would have cum right on the spot. Sucking in a breath, he focused his attention on you.

"Yes you can baby. You can and you will cum."

Your whines got more desperate and your fingers started to move more rapidly inside you.

"No! Hwa I really can't."

But Seonghwa knew that was a lie and he was going to prove it to you.

"Yes you can. Wanna know why? Cause you're my good little girl, so obedient and you want to make me happy right?"

You let out a groan as you could practically hear his smug look on his face, his eyes would have that lustful intensity that just had you melting and breaking down at his words.

"So cum for me baby. I wanna hear you."

❥𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

Having a few spare minutes, Yunho picked up his phone to check if you had sent him any new messages. He smiled when he saw that you indeed had.

"How's practice going?" It read.

"It's going fine. What are you doing now?"

In less than 5 seconds you were already replying back.

"I'm eating."

Yunho was about to reply but you beat him to it when you sent him a picture of you deepthroating a banana that had the caption: "but it's not what I was craving."

Yunho dropped his phone onto the ground when he saw that. Scrambling to pick it up, he was blushing furiously at what you were hinting at and it made him embarrased to know he was already growing a problem rather quickly.

"I'm going to the bathroom."

None of the other guys really paid attention nor suspected anything as they were too immersed on their own phones or goofing off. Yunho practically zoomed into the bathroom, locking the door behind himself so no one would come in. His mood suddenly changed and he felt in the mood to tease you as well. Pulling himself out, he took a picture of him cupping his lower half.

"Were you craving something a little bigger?"

With a sly smirk he sent the message together with the photo he snapped. Of course you replied fast this time as well.

"Fuck yes! I wanna suck that monster cock."

Yunho giggled softly at your dirty words before composing himself once more to send you one last text.

"Don't worry baby. I'll be home soon and I'll be sure to fuck that mouth of yours until you can't talk anymore."

❥𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

Yeosang bit down on his lip to try and muffle his deep moans, not wanting his roommate to hear what he was doing inside the bathroom of the hotel room.

"Don't try to keep quiet baby boy. I want you to be as loud as you can be. Let everyone know what a slut you are."

Yeosang whined loudly as he pumped himself faster at hearing you call him such a degrading name.

"Are you close baby boy? I bet you are." You chuckled, your voice sending shivers down his spine.

"I wish I could see your pretty face. I bet you're already looking so fucked out even though you're just jerking off to my voice. You really are such an easy whore." You let out a mocking scoff.

Yeosang hissed as he felt himself on the brink of his edge.

"Fuck! Mommy- I'm gonna cum! I'm gonna cum!" He exclaimed, his voice heaving out pants and hisses.

"Cum my baby boy, I want to hear you. And when you're done, I want you to send me a picture of your mess."

Throwing his head back, Yeosang cried out your name as he began staining his stomach with his cum, some of it spilling onto the floor. He milked himself past his limit, wanting to savor the feeling just a little longer. Pretty soon all you heard were his deep breaths, signaling he was calming down. And then you got a notification from him. Opening it up, he sent you a picture, looking completely wrecked, hair sticking to his forehead, sculpted abs tainted with his cum and you could see a tiny glimpse of his cock. You were more than satisfied.

"You did so good for me my baby boy."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

San stared intently at the screen in front of him, tongue running across his lips as he watched you fuck yourself on the dildo he had bought for you. With a click of his tongue, he shook his head at you.

"Come on baby, I know you can do better than that."

You whined as you began grinding yourself onto the toy, eyebrows furrowed as you tried to find your g-spot.

"I can't- San I can't find it." You whimpered, completely convinced you couldn't get off without your boyfriend's dick.

San looked at you with mock pity before snorting at you.

"Of course you can't, cause you're just a stupid slut who needs my cock to fuck her right."

You moaned loudly at his words, your hips lifting up once more and sinking back into the toy.

"Can't even fuck yourself right. Waste of time and money buying you those toys if you can't even use them properly. Such a dumb whore."

San suppressed a smirk threatening to cross his features when he saw you bouncing on the dildo once more, his plan working just as he had hoped. Resting his chin on his hand, he raised an eyebrow at you.

"Tell me babygirl....what are you?"

Through whimpers you managed to answer him.

"I'm just your d-dumb whore who can't fuck herself right without your cock."

San nodded as his eyes were practically fucking you even through the screen.

"That's right. You're my little dumb whore, always needing me to get yourself off.... but I know you can do it. I know you can cum for me now."

Your vision began to blur as you felt the built up coil start to burst inside you, but you could still make out San's satisfied smile when he saw that you were starting to cum.

"Keep fucking yourself darling. Don't you dare stop. Not until you're begging me with tears in your eyes."

❥𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

Mingi's fingers tightly clung onto his phone, trying not to let it fall as he watched the way your fingers dipped inside your folds. He inhaled sharply as he heard the sloppy sounds coming out of you.

"Fuck, love are you that wet already?" He couldn't believe your guys' previous dirty talk session got you that bothered.

Humming erotically, you lifted the phone up to capture your face.

"Can't help it. I've missed you so much. I just really need you."

Mingi completely understood you, he too had been craving to be intimate with you, weeks without you starting to get to him.

"I've missed you too love. Been wanting to eat out that sweet and wet pussy of yours." He licked his lips as he slipped himself out of his boxers and starting stroking himself.

You let out a whimper and thrusted your fingers deeper in you.

"Oh fuck! I would love that."

Mingi shot you a dark smile through tiny moans.

"You would wouldn't you love? You always love it when I eat you out, especially if you're sitting on my face."

His words, spoken out in that hushed and deep voice of his, were starting to take effect, you were now grinding yourself on your fingers, eyes shut as you imagined one of the many times you had rode his face.

"I love it when you can't control yourself and you grind on my tongue, so needy and desperate to cum, make a mess all over my face."

Mingi could tell by the way your breathing became more labored that you were going to be cumming any second, and he wanted to see it happen. Shooting you a cheeky grin, he pulled his phone closer to his face.

"Put the camera back on your pussy baby, wanna see you make a mess all over yourself when you cum."

❥𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

The last thing you expected was to open up was a snap from your boyfriend of his very obvious boner with a naughty caption.

"Someone's been missing you ;)"

You let out a chuckle and quickly thought of a way to get back at him. Lifting your shirt, which was actually Wooyoung's, enough to expose your legs and midriff, you snapped a picture silently patting yourself for wearing the black lace panties Wooyoung went crazy for.

"What a coincidence. Someone's been missing you too."

Judging by the fact he took longer to respond you knew he was up to something. Indeed, this time instead of a picture he sent you a 10 second clip of his hand pumping his erect length, his moans and grunts clearly audible.

"You're lucky you're kilometers away from me or else I would be speeding home to punish you for teasing me like that."

Following his game, you slipped your fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling it away from your hip before releasing it so it could snap against your skin.

"Bet you're dying to rip these off me." Your tone had a mocking tone to it.

2 minutes later and he once again sent you another video snap. This time his grunts became more loud and were bordering on turning into whines.

"Baby please...... take them off for me and let me see that pussy of yours."

You know he must have been hard and needy for a while if he was begging you like that, Wooyoung hardly begged you for anything. So you decided to milk it as much as you could.

"Hmmm...... you wanna see my pussy? Want me to take these off and let you see how wet I am?"

Slipping your fingers inside your panties careful not to let any skin peek out.

"Beg for it harder Wooyoungie.......show me you deserve to see it."

Satisfied, you pressed send, already thinking of more ways to torture your horny boyfriend.

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

Jongho couldn't keep the smile off his face when he heard you tell him you missed him.

"I miss you too baby. Don't worry, we'll see each other soon."

He giggled when he heard you whine cutely, he could already picture your pouting lips.

"I don't know if I can wait anymore Jongho. I wanna cuddle you, I wanna kiss you, I wanna-"

He smirked as he heard your breath hitch, already imagining what you wanted to say. With a calm and collected voice, he put the phone on speaker and held it closer to his mouth so you could hear him more clearly.

"You wanna what baby? Hmm? Tell me."

You didn't respond, he knew you were too shy and embarrassed to tell him over the phone, just as you were shy to tell him when you were horny in person. Hearing some shuffling in the background, he guessed you were probably putting him on speaker as well and also slipping your hand in between your legs, just as he was slipping his hand in his pants.

"Perhaps you wanna ride my thigh? You're always up for that."

He had a proud smirk on his face when he began to make out your faint sharp intakes of breath.

"Or maybe you want me to pin you against the wall and fuck you against it."

He knew he hit the bullseye when he heard you moaning, the sound of a hand fretting uncontrollably against your folds beginning to sound through the phone. His own hand movements began to speed up as he thought about your weak body being manhandled by him as he slammed himself into you.

"Don't worry. First thing I'm doing as soon as I get home is fuck your body sore against the front door."

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners.

[tyraj24]

     "The next time I catch you using a vibrator without my permission, your little pussy won't be able to cum anymore."

     Gojo Satoru is relentless when it comes to sex.

    Part of you wondered how he would go about his punishment while the other prays he would not follow through. Although he sometimes has the tendency to go overboard while fucking you senseless, the man cares deeply enough to give you a safe word.

    You had yet to use the word. Not because the sex was bad -oh my lord, it was far from it- but because he was saving you for the more extreme sessions. You had seen every single item he hid and was practically drooling at the sight of most. You were waiting patiently until you finally decided to disobey him. Whether that would be your downfall or your salvation is entirely up to the man that will ruin you.

    And today was his lucky day.

    You were home alone, bored out of your mind. Gojo was not supposed to be home until around six, him finishing up some last-minute reports for the school. He had told you an estimated time for his arrival, so you had deliberately planned this out.

    You snuck your way into Gojo's drawer that held the assortment of various vibrators. You chose your favorite of them all and climb your way up onto the shared bed. Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you sent a quick photo of yourself lying in bed with a pout, captioning it with 'Hurry, please.'

    Sending him suggestive photos would guarantee a reaction from your boyfriend. You knew he would try his hardest in finishing whatever work he had left. Albeit it might not be his best, it was always something he would turn in.

    Slowly removing your shirt showed your bare chest to the empty room. You played with the hardening buds until you felt a pool of your arousal in your underwear. Biting your lip, you slowly trailed a hand to your shorts, leaving goosebumps along your burning skin. You removed the shorts from your body in anticipation. When a slight breeze met the bareness of your wet core, a hiss escaped your lips.

    You began to palm yourself, your hips jutting up to meet the slow movement of your hand while the other was still playing with your breasts. You rubbed your entire palm against your pelvis, gliding your slick all over the area. You removed your hands from your breasts and grabbed the vibrator from beside you and turned it on.

    Smiling, you teased yourself by lightly rubbing the device on your inner thighs and above your clit. You moved your lower lips apart and gently raised the skin of your clit before placing the vibrating device directly on the sensitive nerve.

    Pleasure overwhelmed you; an unrecognizable sound escaped your parted lips. You instinctively pressed harder against the bundle of nerves as your legs began to visibly shake. A loud moan erupted from deep within you and was drawn out the longer you held on.

    An orgasm was approaching quickly. The sound of your arousal against the vibrations of your cunt was loud, but you could not hear it. Your vision was becoming blurred as tears formed in your eyes from too much pleasure invading your system. Your legs began to shake, and loud moans escaped you as the orgasm rippled through. You tried to catch your breath, but the bedroom door swung open.

    "So that one is your favorite?"

    Gojo came home earlier than expected.

    "Fuck! Satoru!" When you met his gaze, he looked extremely disappointed. His foot was tapping the floor and his arms were crossed over his chest, a scowl resting on his lips. His head was tilted downwards, his bright cerulean eyes looking at you above his sunglasses. His collarbones were shown underneath the white button up he had worn for the day; two buttons had already been undone before his arrival. It seemed like this scene had been staged.

    "Did you just fucking cum?"

    The vibrator was still on in your palm. You immediately turned it off before bringing it to your parted lips, eyes never leaving his as he continued to stare at you. He could not deny the tent in his pants nor the fact that he was jealous of a sex toy.

    When you slipped the device past your lips and sucked on it until the remnants of your climax were licked clean, the male before you could not help but groan. He licked his lips in anticipation before averting his gaze in between your thighs. Your orgasm was seeping out of your sensitive core and onto the mattress. The way your slick glistened under the lighting nearly had Gojo a horny mess. Nearly.

    He scoffed at your attempts in having him give in to his submissive side, "Not today, sweetheart."

    That was all he said before he sauntered his way towards you. He crawled his way onto the bed before spreading your legs, showing him your cunt. He licked his lips, relishing the sight in front of him before he ruined you. You continued to lick your essence off the toy, watching Gojo stare at your nude body. His hands began to caress your legs slowly before he yanked the device from your grasp. He tossed it beside him, as if saving it for later.

    Almost instantly, Gojo plunged three of his fingers into your wetness. You gasped at the pleasure from already feeling full. He began to pump slow before quickening his pace and curling his long fingers to hit that sweet spot inside of you. Your hand gripped his wrist, pushing him away from already feeling overwhelmed. But then, the all too familiar coil residing in you had snapped and you were pushed into another orgasm.

    Your head felt heavy from having yet another hard orgasm just mere minutes from each other. You tried to regain your breath, but Gojo would not let you.

    Two fingers were pushing back easily inside you, yet, this time, his thumb was running sloppy circles on your clit. You screamed out, back arching with fingers dug into the sheets. His pace quickened and he found a new angle, rutting his fingers in and up. Your chest was heaving and your tongue slipped past your lips, some drool following. Gojo's pace had your cunt clenching around him, screaming his name as you squirted on him.

    You finally had the chance to look up at him. Your eyes widened at the mess you made. He was still fully clothed, a grin on his glossy lips as he watched your pulsating hole aching to be filled.

    He finally stood and discarded his clothing before returning to his position. You could only comply as he flipped you into your stomach, reach for his blindfold on the nightstand before tying your wrists together and to the bed frame. You whimpered against the pillow he burrowed your face into. Now that your sense of sight and smell had been compromised, you could only rely on touches. And even then, Gojo knew you would squirm if he grazed your sensitive body.

    But he did not slam his cock into your cunt because he knew your senses were unbalanced. No, it was your punishment for cumming without him.

    The inaudible scream that escaped you had Gojo already on edge. He still has some ways to go, but the man was too invested in punishing you that the mere thought of cumming himself had not passed his mind.

    His hips were rutting into yours rhythmically almost instantly. The sound the two of your bodies made was music to his ears: the squelching of your sopping cunt had him riled up, the way your moans were quick and frequent, and not to mention the way the bed was on the verge of its own death by how much it was squeaking. He could not help but hum along.

    But you could barely comprehend any sound as they were going through one ear and the other. All you could think of was the way Gojo's cock fits perfectly inside you, mapped out your insides, hitting all the right spots as if he was the one who created you. You could not deny him in this state, the string of curses that came out as a moan did not help your case at all. You were too fucked out that you had not even realized another orgasm rippled straight past you.

    " 'm gonna make sure," Gojo slapped your ass once, "you never use," twice, "that fucking vibrator," three times, "ever again."

    All you could do was take it. Your ass cheeks stung by the impact of his hands, the red imprints already becoming visible. Suddenly, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled on the strands to lift your head from the pillows. His pace became impossibly faster at the new angle. He continually hit your G-spot, a loud 'Fuck' slipping past your salted, swollen lips before your tongue lolled out once more.

    However, Gojo flipped you over onto your back without pulling out of you. He only stopped for a split second to make sure you were comfortable before grabbing the vibrator from beside your limp body. He turned it on, staring into your dilated eyes with a confused expression on your face before placing the device directly on your swollen clit. Your body squirmed lazily, limbs trying to push the man and his sadistic antics away from your overly sensitive body.

    And to make matters even more sadistic, he continued his ruthless pace by rutting his hips straight into yours.  Gojo could not help but watch your sad attempts in moving away from him. You could only succumb to yet another powerful orgasm.

    But what Gojo did not know what that you had been crying the entire time, ever since your third climax. Your chest was heaving as you mumbled your safe word.

    "What is it, sweetheart? Speak up so I can hear you."

    Your voice was barely above a whisper when you spoke, hoarse from moaning too much. But when he did hear your broken voice, he completely halted his movements with wide eyes and a pale complexion, "Flower, Gojo."

    Flower.

    It was, quite literally, the only word that could make the strongest sorcerer stop in his tracks. He looked down at your sweaty body, eyes scanning your face to see the tear stains on your cheeks. Your eyes were closed and puffy, averting his gaze from embarrassment. He realized he had been too rough this time.

    He leaned down before pecking a slight kiss to your cheek. He mumbled a quick sorry before removing himself from you and getting up from the bed. He ran towards the bathroom, coming back to your unmoved body with a hot towel. He wiped you clean, along with the mess you had made on the bedsheets before crawling in bed beside you. Initially, you did not want to be near him.

    Your body was still twitching when he snuggled up beside you under the covers, pulling you into his warm embrace while whispering apologies to you. You continued to cry into his chest as he rubbed circles into your back.

    "I am so sorry, Y/N. I should have not taken it that far. Please let me-."

    "Gojo."

    "Yes?"

    "I love you, but you're sleeping on the couch tonight."

    "Yes ma'am."

[theonewiththefanfics]

Give You Hell (one-shot)

Synopsis: When you’re in a relationship with someone famous while being famous it can be difficult. But not for the Reader and Harry, yet when her past comes knocking, she’ll make sure to know where she stands.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, some minor angst, like microscopic 

Warnings: swearing, reference to past abusive relationship, but nothing explicit.

Word count: 3428

100% inspired by ‘All American Rejects’’ ‘Gives You Hell’

Dating someone famous while being famous yourself had pros and cons, much like everything in life. The cons mostly came from the outside, not from the inside. It was the opinions of others, thinking what they said mattered, the scrutiny of the press, hoping one of them would mess up, and they could run some bullshit article just so their numbers could go up, without a second thought of how the people involved felt, and it was some jealous fans who didn’t seem to comprehend the people they admired were actual human beings with feelings and thoughts and emotions and autonomy. But other than that, Y/N’s and Harry’s relationship was just like any other. Save for when their emotions bubbled over, millions of people heard them in songs.        They’d met at the iconic yellow-suit-Harry Brit awards. She’d been right next to Hugh Jackman opening the show, a red glittering bodysuit with a black and gold ring-master jacket, a top hat adorning her head as she dominated the stage. If Harry had been sloshed at that point (much like he was later on, but who was Y/N to say, given how most of the night was a blur for her), he would’ve absolutely started drooling at the sight of her, and he was one of the thousands who stood up, hollering and clapping as she and Hugh ended their performance.

       Much to his dismay though, Y/N wasn’t one of the people assigned to sit by his table, instead, she was a couple of rows behind, whispering something into Billie Eilish’s ear, the two erupting into uncontrollable laughter.        He felt like a creep as he tried to catch every possible glimpse of Y/N, her smile making his heart race. She’d been on his radar for a while, had even thought about asking her to collaborate on a song for ‘Fine Line’, but at the end of the day, it was an album of personal discovery (and when one of his producers told him Y/N was halfway across the world in the middle of Norwegian woods for the next half-year working on her own music, he didn’t want to be a bother). But seeing her then, Harry wondered why he hadn’t reached out on his own, especially after at the after-party Lizzo had dragged Y/N to him and introduced the two.        The following day, pictures of them dancing together, drinks in hands and drunken grins on their faces would sweep the web, sparking millions of rumours, but, at that moment, they didn’t care, nor did they care about what was written because as Harry twirled Y/N under his arm, as much as the connection was there, that night they went their separate ways. Even when they were drunk, they understood that about the other person, and wouldn’t accept anything else, but a sober and coherent ‘yes’.        Sometime midday the next day, Harry reached out to Y/N through a DM on Instagram checking in on how she was doing, which then turned into a six-hour FaceTime call.        “What do you mean you’ve never had a hangover?!”        Y/N laughed at Harry’s almost offended expression. “I mean I’ve never had a hangover. I’ve never thrown up while drunk or after being drunk, my head’s never hurt – nothing. I mean I’m tired, but that’s because I’m still on New York time and got to bed at like five AM.”        “You… are something else.”        She wiggled her eyebrows. “Is that something else something good?”        Y/N didn’t know, but when Harry saw her eyes sparkle, his heart skipped a beat, and he immediately knew – she was it. “The best.”        “Well…” she bit her lip. “If I’m the best, would it be too forward of me to ask you out for a coffee?”        What Harry didn’t know was that when she saw him smile as if those were the best news in the world, her heart skipped as well, and she knew he was the one.        “Only if it’s my treat.”        “But I was the one who asked you out.”        “Yes, but you can pay for the second date.”        Holding in her squeals of joy was tough, but she raised her eyebrow, giving Harry a sly smirk. “Already so confident there’ll be a second date?”        Harry scoffed. “And a wedding!”        Seeing Y/N throw back her head as she laughed, made all sorts of butterflies fly through his stomach.        “Okay, Styles. I’ll take your word for it.”        Three months into the relationship, the two were booked to appear on The Graham Norton show together, which was also the first time they’d appear officially as a couple at a work/outing kind of a setting since the rumours started floating, and a picture of Harry kissing Y/N outside of a hotel room had sort of confirmed that.        “So, you two.” Graham pointed between Y/N and Harry with his cards. “Have started to date? Not to say anything Harry, but Y/N… I didn’t think boy-bands were your type.”        That made her lean over in laughter as Harry gave everyone a shocked face, before slumping back and pouting, nudging Y/N with his knee. “That’s not funny.”        “I mean it kind of is.”        “She was twelve when she swore off boy-bands.” Graham nodded, taking a sip of his wine. “Isn’t that what you said last time you were here?”        “Hey, it’s been ten years since I said that!” Y/N laughed. “Cut me some slack. All the people I was crushing on are married anyway… with kids… and could probably be my dads… I have issues, don’t I?”        Everyone exploded into giggles while Harry shook his head, chuckling.        “Love you with all of your issues.” He nudged her shoulder, and she nudged right back, taking a sip of her drink.        “Yeah, give it a couple of months. You’ll regret your words.”        The thing was Y/N was so wrong, and she’d never been happier to be so wrong. Each morning they were together, Harry woke up to her showering him with kisses or vice versa. As private as Harry was, his Instagram stories were now filled with pictures and small videos of them, of Y/N’s face half-covered by a blanket, glasses crooked as she smushed her cheek to his chest and watched a movie, or her eating breakfast while re-watching old Bones and Castle episodes with captions like ‘dunno how she keeps the food down’ and ‘she swears it’s just for research’, while her feed was full of candid Harry photos or her rummaging through his closet and showing everyone his immaculate style, and giving tips how others can recreate it (also she may or may not just use that as a reason to steal his clothes).        Generally, people loved it, and their love for one another. It was refreshing to see them enjoy each other’s company, and not be afraid to do so, especially now, given how it was a couple of days before Y/N ended her tour in New York in Madison Square Garden, to which Harry had specifically flown out for despite being in the middle of filming for ‘The Little Mermaid’. Three AM blinked on the clock, as the two finally drifted off to sleep after five hours of a passionate reunion when her phone dinged, indicating a message had arrived.        “Turn it off,” Harry grumbled into the skin of Y/N’s back. “’S too early.”        She hummed in agreement, furrowing her brows as her palm blindly searched for the offending device, and she squinted her eyes as the light burned her retinas before widening in shock at the message.        Harry felt her body go rigid, and he pressed a kiss to her neck. “Everythin’ alright, lovie?”        “Uh – “ she stuttered, trying to process the words on the screen. “Uh, yeah. Yes, everything’s fine. Just… some last-minute changes for the show. They want something really big for the ending, and some of the propositions are just…”        She could feel a smile stretch across Harry’s mouth. “Extravagant?”        “You could say that, yeah.”        “Sounds like it’s gonna be one hell of a show. Not that the others weren’t.”        Y/N switched the phone off wiping away the message first and then turned to cuddle into Harry’s chest. “It most certainly will.”        For the next two days, she was an anxious ball of mess, as her crew got everything ready, and her and her band rehearsed relentlessly before she asked all of them to gather at the studio to add a song to the setlist.        “It’s gonna be a couple more hours, Hazza,” Y/N murmured into the phone as Harry had called in to check on her. “ ‘M sorry. You don’t have to wait up for me. I know you’re still adjusting to New York time.”        “ ‘S alright,” he slurred, clearly already falling asleep but determined not to. “Can’t sleep without you anyway.”        At those words, Y/N’s heart did that stupid flipping thing it’d been doing ever since Harry entered her life to stay, and a shy grin blossomed on her lips. “You’re exhausted, sweetheart. But I’ll tell you what - if you do go to bed, I’ll be sure to wake you up with a kiss when I get back.”        “You promise?” She could hear the smile on his face.        “Swear it.”        “Alright, lovie. I’ll be waiting to cash in on that kiss.”        “I’ll run to give it to you as soon as I can. G’night.”        “See ya’ in a bit.”        Y/N let out a shudder as she heard the call disconnect. She entered back inside the studio and clapped her hands, drawing the attention of her producers and band members. “Where were we?”

***

       The hour before a show was always nerve-wracking for Y/N. It’s when the adrenaline truly started to rush, when her feet and palms got all tingly, and her ears and cheeks heated up. It was when their warm-up band exploded on stage, and the crowd got pumped up. But the best moment that night by far was right when she was about to run out, Harry had pulled her back by the wrist and kissed the living daylights out of her.        “You’re gonna kill it tonight,” he muttered against her lips, words skimming her mouth and making her smile as bright as the sun. She seemed to do that a lot around him. It’s why he now dedicated Golden to her every time he sang it.        “Thank you. For being here.”        Harry flicked her nose. “Always. Now go. People are waiting.”        When Y/N finally appeared on stage, pretty much glowing as brightly as the stage lights, her fans went wild, and even more so when she jumped, starting off the show. The whole time, her gaze flitted to backstage just to get a glimpse of Harry, and whenever she did, she saw him dancing, singing along, filming her having fun and some clips of himself as well, going absolutely ham to her songs.        As the night was moving towards the end, usually, she’d feel euphoria from giving a great performance, after hearing thousands of people sing her songs in unison, now Y/N felt closer to throwing up and fainting.        “So uh…” She pushed back strands of sweaty hair, hollers of people echoing in her head. “This is a very special show tonight. Umm… this is the first concert my boyfriend’s come t - .” She didn’t even get to finish the sentence before the cheers of the people interrupted her, deafening the girl even with the earplugs.        “But umm… it’s also a special show because two days ago someone reached out to me, and uh… he… well, he was as important of a person once the same way Harry is right now, and he wrote this.”        Y/N went over to where the piano chair was, lifted it and fished out her phone from it, revealing the message that’d been basically haunting her nights and days since receiving it.        “Breaking up with you was the biggest mistake I ever made.” To her own surprise, her voice was steady and sure, unlike her hands which were trembling like leaves in a storm. “I know you look happy and in love, but I know it’s not true. I’ve known you for five years, I know how to see through the mask you put on every day just to make sure others are happy while you yourself suffer an inauthentic life. But you do deserve to be happy. And I’ll be waiting for you if you decide to give us a chance again. I’ll be at your concert in Madison Square.” She looked out into the crowd. “You wrote a song once for me. If you sing it, that’s how I’ll know you feel the same.”        By the time she got to the end, there were no more shouts or screams, but confused murmurs. Y/N let out a shuddering breath, hoping that she could manage to do what she wanted, and everything didn’t fall apart. “The thing is, I’d like for Harry to come on stage, please.”        She could see the fear in his eyes as he jogged to stand next to her, but he disguised it with an overenthusiastic smile as he waved over towards the raging sea of people. He’d seen the message, had seen her reread it more than fifty times by that point, and as sure as he was in their relationship, when someone who held such importance, no matter if good or not, in someone’s life came knocking again, you could never be too sure what would happen. Harry didn’t want to say anything, believing if it was important enough, she’d tell him. Guess that was it.        “So, uh…” Y/N pulled Harry’s arms over her shoulders and grasped onto them, grounding them both. “This is for you.” Y/N looked over into the crowd before glancing over her shoulder, Y/E/C eyes meeting Harry’s wavering green ones. “And you,” she whispered so that only he could hear. “Hope you know I mean everything.”        As the cords started playing, she felt Harry unwarp his arms from where she’d been holding them over her shoulders and a smile erupted on her face.        “I wake up every evening,” Y/N sang, “with a big smile on my face, and it never feels out of place.”        “And you’re still probably workin’,” Harry’s voice joined in, grin as wide as the Cheshire cat’s, as he now had a microphone in hand, the other placing earplugs in his own ears, “at a nine-to-five pace… I wonder how bad that tastes.”        “When you see my face hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell,” the two harmonized, Y/N’s eyes locked onto the masses, imagining the face of her ex-boyfriend who had the audacity to send that message.        “When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell.” Harry was looking at the crowd as well, now fully understanding the message and the person behind it, and although he lived by ‘treat people with kindness’, he couldn’t help but gloat at the fact he got to sing with the love of his life on stage, and basically serenade a break-up song to a person who didn’t know how to appreciate what he’d had.        Y/N cocked her head to the side. “Now, where’s your picket fence, love, and where’s that shiny car? It didn’t ever get you far. You’ve never seemed so tense, love. I’ve never seen you fall so hard. Do you know where you are?” It was hard not to smile, knowing where she was and who she was with. Harry threw an arm over Y/N’s shoulders as she sang, giving a mock sad look, while Harry pouted. “And truth be told, I miss you… And truth be told, I’m lying!”        “When you see my face hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you find a gal that’s worth a damn and treats you well.” Y/N pointed towards where she imagined her ex was standing. “Then she’s the fool, you’re just as well, hope it gives you hell! Hope it gives you hell!” For a split second, the music slowed down, guitar strumming in the air, as Harry pulled Y/N by the palm and towards his chest.        When the next lyrics came out of his mouth, he knew them to be true as he sang them to the man, he’d heard Y/N talk about, to the man who thought everything he’d done to her, every horrible word and deed was justified, to the man who thought breaking someone else down was the only way to bring themselves up. “Now tomorrow you’ll be thinking to yourself, where did it all go wrong, but the list goes on and on.”        “And truth be told, she misses you,” Harry hummed, Y/N letting out a large laugh, holding onto his bicep, as he slightly changed the lyrics. “And truth be told, she’s lying! When you see her face, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you walk her way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell!  When you find a gal that’s worth a damn and treats you well.” Harry sighed, shrugging his shoulders. “Then she’s the fool you’re just as well hope it gives you hell.”        “Now you’ll never see,” Y/N took over the song. “What you’ve done to me.” She placed a hand over her heart. “You can take back your memories, they’re no good to me. And here’s all your lies, you can look me in the eyes, with that sad, sad look that you wear so well.” She dragged her finger down her cheek, giving a pout while Harry mimicked her stance before turning the mic to the audience.        “When you see my face, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell,” the crowd sang back with such vigour, Y/N was sure the whole ground was shaking just from their voices, and the clapping and stomping to the drum rhythm would bring the whole world down. “When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you find a gal that’s worth a damn and treats you well, then she’s the fool you’re just as well, hope it gives you hell!”        The two were jumping around the stage like madmen, adrenaline filling their veins. “When you see my face hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell!” “Hope it gives you hell!” Everyone else repeated.        “When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell!” “Hope it gives you hell!”        “When you sing this song and sing along, well you’ll never tell. Then you’re the fool, I’m just as well, hope it gives you hell!” Y/N grinned once more, placing her hand over her heart, meaning every word – she was just as well. She had amazing friends, a career that’d flourished, and a person who loved her more than words could describe.        “When you hear this song, I hope that it will give you hell!” Harry crooned down the mic, knowing their happiness would, Y/N’s happiness would give him hell. And he enjoyed it, knowing how good her life was.        “You can sing along I hope that it puts you through hell!” Her voice became the only sound as the last word echoed around everyone, her chest heaving up and down from the exertion, from all of the emotions running through her body as well as the overwhelming feeling of not only having Harry watch her perform but to end up performing with him.        When his hands wrapped around her body, it startled her out from the daze, and the popping confetti startled her even more, as the rest of her band joined the two to take their bows, grins on all of their faces while they did so.        “Not the song you thought I’d sing, is it?” Y/N laughed into the mic, Harry’s arms tightening around her waist. “There’s a reason I blocked your number, let alone you from my life. Don’t think I won’t do it again.”        “But I would like to say thank you, to the asshole in question,” Harry said, making Y/N’s forehead scrunched up. “You let go of the best person ever; you had the honour of calling yourself her boyfriend, but instead, you chose to walk away. So, thank you for that. Because now I’ll have that honour and pleasure for the rest of our lives.”        Yeah. It was one hell of a show.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife​ @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog​ @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15​ @breezykpop​ @girlboss99​ @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist​ @alliyjane​ @sirtommyholland​

A/N: I love ‘All American Rejects’ and have been listening to ‘Gives You Hell’ non stop. It’s the best break-up song ever, and you won’t convince me otherwise. 

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. please don’t repost my work on other platforms without my explicit written permission. reblogs are fine :)

[leqclerc]

I think Ferrari had no idea to do marketing wise with Sebchal, probably the age gap, Seb having no online presence, Ferrari still being in the stone age of the internet...And now they have two young, popular, handsome guys that seem to like each other, I guess someone said you're Carlando now. To me Carlando felt lile McLaren leaning too much onto the ~this is more than a team~ rebrand (idc if they are friends irl, that's not the point) and I guess Ferrari want some of that too

I'm gonna go ahead and address these asks in one reply because they're all kinda pertaining to the same topic. I totally get this and I agree! For me it's less about the queerbaiting (not my phrasing, someone else put that notion out there) and more just lamenting the fact that Ferrari didn't modify their race recap formula a little earlier, or that they didn't do those the drivers give their thoughts on the race things with Seb and Charles. It feels like a missed opportunity.

I get that Seb's a family man and he likes keeping his private life private and I respect him for not getting involved in the mess that is social media because lbr it can be a cesspool out there sometimes and the less braincell-robbing stuff you see the better. I'm not saying put the man on TikTok but they were doing PR stuff anyway, be it silly UPS or Shell sponsor content or whatever. So it's just kind of a shame that Ferrari hadn't thought to expand their race recaps to something beyond 1-2 minute fast-paced music video type content or done those post-race debrief things back then. I just like seeing them interacting in a way that isn't scripted. I like learning more about the behind the scenes, the inner workings of the team, or as much as they're willing to show anyway. Getting to see glimpses of their team briefings in DTS was really cool. And all those interactions were their own. In fact, I think most of the stuff that could potentially be taken as queerbaiting largely just came from their own mouths; those were unscripted moments. Maybe the situation they were put in (challenge video, DTS) was planned, but how they acted and what they said in those came from them.

Also it's like... how unsubtle the Charlos thing is? On Ferrari's end, I mean. It just feels like a near-constant bombardment of content and increasingly questionable captions/responses and it's just tiring, lmao. How many more times do I have to be told that they're close in age, play chess and padel, etc etc etc. They're riding the wave now but surely there will come a time when there's just an oversaturation of this kind of content. It’s so heavy handed and so on the nose (“more than just a bromance”?????) that it’s kind of exhausting.

I get that they're primarily active on Twitter and Instagram and those two operate a lot differently to Tumblr, especially on the so-called stan Twitter side. Afaik Carlos is still quite beloved on there and he never I guess got "cancelled" or turned fans off the way it seems to have happened on Tumblr some time ago. So he's still a popular figure on there, you're right.

It's something I've been noticing and thinking about and even discussing with other people, but like...this blurring of lines between fans and official team social media accounts is kind of a double edged sword. Yeah they're catering to these people's desires and reward them for their engagement by mentioning them by name and making them feel special so they keep coming back, but that (and the fact that the vast majority of stan Twitter fans engaging with the teams are in their teens or early 20s and no strangers to fandom culture) has led to this kind of breech into fandom terms that honestly (to me anyway, and to the people I've spoken to) feels a bit weird and borderline uncomfortable. Ferrari's not the first team to do this, but they are jumping on the bandwagon with ship names and things and it's kind of 🥴to watch. I always found it weird when fandom members would [@] or even DM actors or showrunners believing they have some kind of friendship going on because of this social media engagement, and I find this just as weird.