#yeah Im very proud of myself with this word play :))

[kotarh]

в последние дни я слишком много вспоминаю и думаю про "атаку титанов", и вот парочка моих хэдканонов о персонажах после финала, потому что я не могу выбросить это из головы

Армин

несмотря на назначение, полученное прямо от Ханджи, несмотря на то, что фактически выступал главнокомандующим в финальном сражении, он не считает себя в праве называться командором. да и какой уж разведкорпус, от него осталось даже меньше, чем после битвы за Шиганшину, а это было 9 человек. нет, Армин кто угодно, но не 15-й командор разведки

однако титул или же его отсутствие сути не меняет. однажды он обращается как будто к Леви, но на самом деле в пустоту: "капитан, вам не кажется, что наши павшие товарищи смотрят на нас?" - произнося нечто среднее между финальными словари Эрвина и Ханджи (у Леви чуть не случается инсульт из-за этого совпадения)

от вины выжившего Армин начал страдать где-то со времён атаки на Трост, когда из всего его отряда выжил только он, поскольку Эрен буквально вытащил его из пасти титана. смерть Эрвина усилила это в несколько раз, однако в постканоне всё ухудшилось до колоссальных размеров. чувство вины Армина резонирует с его перфекционизмом и заставляет стремиться исправить всё, что только возможно, поэтому в постканоне он буквально не существует вне "работы"

и где-то в процессе он подцепляет зависимость от кофе. он узнал в нём по "приятному запаху" тот напиток, кружки с остатками которого нашёл у стены перед сражением в Шиганшине

иногда он курит, но не потому что ему это нравится или приносит облегчение. наоборот, сигаретный дым неприятно жжёт изнутри, играя на птср от встречи с Бертольдом. но Армин думает, что эта боль - всего лишь маленькая частичка того, что он заслужил на самом деле, и поэтому продолжает этим заниматься

они с Энни так и не начали встречаться. в первые недели было просто не до выяснения отношений, даже если они и краснели очень неловко при каждом пересечении взглядами. а потом, с течением времени, пока они взаимодействовали друг с другом, образ, созданный за годы общения с кристаллом, разрушился, явив настоящего человека под ним: Энни оказалась не совсем той же, какой себе представлял её Армин, и сам он не совпал с нарисованным Энни портретом. где-то через полгода с финального сражения между ними случился короткий разговор, расставивший все точки над i. трепетное чувство влюблённости исчезло. остался эмпатичный осадок, поэтому они смогли замять так и не озвученные толком чувства и остаться хорошими коллегами. но не друзьями

Жан

если Армин злоупотребляет кофе и - изредка - сигаретами, то Жан - алкоголем. особенно активно в первые два года, едва не дойдя до критической точки. однако он вовремя опомнился. поездка на Парадиз стала большим искушением вернуться к старой привычке. и всё же Жан старается держать себя в руках. помогает постоянное напоминание самому себе, к чему в итоге привела любовь Пиксиса к выпивке

через год с итоговой битвы он набрался смелости в открытую начать оказывать Микасе знаки внимания. она честно и искренне приняла его ухаживания, посчитав, что успела немного оправиться от смерти Эрена и ей пришла пора двигаться дальше. Микаса ошиблась. это ни к чему не привело. Жан почувствовал первым, что они зашли в тупик. они расстались, не провстречавшись и полгода. эти месяцы были очень странными, даже хуже, чем у Армин и Энни. все, не только сами Микаса и Жан, договорились никогда не упоминать этот период

когда поездка на Парадиз начала приближаться и развернулось активное планирование деталей, Жан сблизился с Пик. к моменту отплытия на корабле между ними уже завязалась около-романтическая взаимная симпатия, однако форму она обрела значительно позже

порой Жану тяжело смотреть на Габи. в другие дни он избегает Энни и Райнера. он не испытывает к ним жгучей ненависти, однако иногда это всё ещё... тяжело

именно он занимается перепиской с Хисторией. они с Конни собираются в определённые вечера и перечитывают её ответы, вспоминая оставленные на Парадизе семьи

Леви

его долг, его последнее обещание исполнены. больше его ничего не держит рядом с этими детьми. но из всех людей они - самое близкое, что осталось от разведкорпуса, где он провёл столько лет. для Леви они всё те же бестолковые новобранцы, но у них на спине - крылья свободы. подрезанные, общипанные и практически переломанные - но они есть. крылья, намёка на которые н�� было в последующих наборах. и Леви не хочет отпускать воспоминания ни о своём отряде, вырезанном Энни, ни об Эрвине, ни о Ханджи. поэтому он остаётся рядом, но держится на расстоянии

даже если в некоторые моменты всё, что он может испытывать к тому же Армину - это презрение. Леви держится рядом

Энни он почти всегда игнорирует - если только они не посреди обсуждения чего-то важного. Райнера же - в половине случаев

когда начинаются разговоры о поездке на Парадиз, Леви сразу заявляет, что его участия в этом цирке можно не ждать. на остров он никогда больше не вернётся. а ко времени отправления корабля вообще будет на противоположном конце света вместе с Оньянкопоном, Габи и Фалько. он осядет в этом месте на пару лет

(дети будут слать письма. Леви не ответит ни на одно (Габи и Фалько будут отлично справляться своими силами с этой задачей), но он будет складывать в специально приоретённую для этого шкатулку)

((чаще всего писать будет Жан - но этот всегда был охотлив до разговоров, что лично, что в переписке. его послания будут занимать максимум полностью исписанный один лист, но они будут приходить стабильно раз в месяц. меньше всего писать, как ни странно, будет Армин. от него будут приходить лишь открытки, где адрес отправления длиннее оставленного сообщения))

на самом деле шрамы и коляска совершенно не беспокоят Леви, реакция на них незнакомцев утомляет, но порой она доставляет ему мрачное удовольствие

спустя какое-то время у него упадёт зрение, но Леви будет отказываться носить очки на постоянной основе, будет надевать лишь во время чтения - писем и открыток. книги не представляют для него большого интереса. те же, что описывают мир или рассказывают о приключениях и эпичных битвах, для него не существуют вообще

[ericityyy]

Hello dear, i dont know if your tired of young sheldon requests but if you are im so sorry, i promise that for future requests it will be another fandom. But i was just thinking about georgie with a female reader where she is very protective over missy and makes sure she is not forgotten or less than sheldon, which george finds very cute.

Thank you so much

𝐁𝐢𝐠 𝐒𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝘈 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘔𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘥.

𝙏𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙚: 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘎𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘉𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥’𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺

𝙏𝙮𝙥𝙚: 𝘍𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 600

𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

“Y/N, do you think I can join the baseball team?” Missy asked with an insecure look on her face. She’s been meaning to join the baseball team for some time and was about to talk to her father about this, but then she decided to consult Y/N first.

Y/N stopped putting nail polish on the younger girl’s feet to look at her. Missy, although she may always seem fierce, doesn’t change the fact that she’s still a little girl who sometimes doesn't get that much attention from her parents. The attention most of the time is to scold her.

Don’t get Y/N wrong; Mary and George are great parents, but a lot of the time, they don’t have much trust in Missy and Georgie, and for good reasons too since most of the time, the two of them have been troublemakers. However, that doesn't change the fact that they feel inferior to Sheldon due to how their parents treat him. It has always been Sheldon who gets most of the attention.

“I think if that coach won’t let you in the team, I’ll go there myself and give him a piece of my mind.” Y/N finished polishing Missy’s nails, looking proud as ever seeing the girl’s beaming smile. “You are great with the sport, and if he can’t see that, then that old guy must be having some sight problems.”

Missy teared up at her words. She has always treated Y/N like a sister, even before Georgie and she started dating. Y/N always had Missy’s back, when Mary praised Sheldon or when George made comments about Georgie and Missy being less than Sheldon.

Missy doesn’t have a team. Not until Y/N came.

“You always are so kind to me.” Missy sniffled, causing Y/N to coo at her, bringing the crying girl into her arms. “Thank you for being here with me when I need you. You’re my team.”

Y/N pulled away from the hug to wipe the girl’s tears away, giving her a warm smile. She then stood up and grabbed a baseball bat before throwing the ball softly at Missy’s bed. “How about you and I play some ball before you go to your tryouts?”

The two girls didn’t notice that Georgie was at the doorway, leaning, "Well, aren’t you two sweet?”

Missy and Y/N turned at Georgie, the former standing up from her bed and grabbing the ball before running outside her room shouting, “Come on, Y/N!”

Y/N laughed at the girl’s enthusiasm, then turned to her boyfriend, who was smiling at her, and asked, “What is it?”

Georgie shook his head, standing up straight and walking toward the girl, who had a baseball bat on her shoulder and a hand on her waist. Georgie, at this point, decided that he was deeply in love with her. “Nothing.” He put his hands on her waist. “I just love how you’re always there for my sister; you have always protected her, and I love you for it.”

The boy kissed his girl’s cheek, noticing the slight pink hue appearing on her skin as he smirked playfully. He still has that effect on her.

“Well, what can I say? I’m the big sister she never had. I am what you call a sister by heart.” Y/N proudly, albeit teasingly, put a hand over her chest where her heart is, closing her eyes with a smile on her face. Georgie rolled his eyes, despite the chuckle that left his lips.

"Yes, you are, darling. Yes, you are.”

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄

hi, i’m sorry this is short but i can’t really think of anything else. but i hope you like this though :>

i’m also fine with the georgie requests!! but yeah i do wish i get to write other fandoms though… it’s okay though!! i enjoy writing georgie cooper imagines!!

[leclsrc]

you know it ✴︎ cl16

genre: porn WITH plot (for once?! everyone cheered), humor, bit of fluff... oh inaccurate depictions of the 2022 season sorry

word count: 7k

Charles is a bit disappointed the pretty girl he harbors a crush on doesn’t have him listed as a Formula 1 crush. He is a lot disappointed that you two can’t fuck.

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... degradation, praise, charles is a bit switchy here lol, penetrative sex, a bit of ass play sorry...., oral (m receiving), semi public sex, yeah

title from this. i love u guys im so sleepy

Joris insists there’s some big present waiting for Charles in his car, to celebrate the middle of the season that has, and will no doubt continue to stretch into a period of conflict and strategy woes. He yanks off the beanie sitting on his head, listens to small talk drifting between Joris and Carlos as they all walk toward their cars to alleviate the bubble of nerves in the low of his stomach. 

Sure enough, there’s an unassuming box lying on the driver’s seat. Joris slides into the passenger seat after Carlos drives away with his girlfriend, his grin shit-eating and mischievous. The door is half open when Charles takes the box to inspect it. White, with the Ferrari logo printed neatly on the centre (very classy touch), the sides are signed by different members of his team. He scratches through the seal and pulls the flap open.

He’s been given a quasi-official Ferrari box of condoms.

Thirty-six condoms, at that, small squares neatly lined up next to each other. Talk about a welcoming present. Not a camera, not racing memorabilia, not a new pair of shoes. Just condoms. Thirty-six of them.

“A mid-season pick-me-up,” presses his friend, giddily. The shorter male lounges comfortably on the seat, a blissful look of pride on his face. Laughing with exasperation, Charles wedges the box shut and tosses it carelessly into the backseat, preparing to drive. This isn’t his first rodeo with weird gifts—he’s half-sure he got adoption papers from an especially excited fan once before.

“You are such an asshole.”

“It’s also a congratulations on winning literally every race so far present,” Joris adds. It’s hyperbole but has a ring of truth to it. As the season closes, Charles’ chances of holding up the trophy this year increase. 

Despite himself, Charles has a better outlook on his chances for the remainder of the season, driving-wise. He’s given it his all so far, and the rest looks promising enough. He only hopes he’s right. Netflix also increased the amount of people getting into the sport, so he’s dealing with tons more fans and nosey DMs, but it’s not too much of an impediment to a hopefully stellar season.

Charles makes a right. “Do you plan to use them?” Joris asks then, a teasing tone taking on his voice as he scrolls through his phone.

“No, not really,” Charles says, lying straight through his teeth.

“You’re a fucking liar, you are.” He whips his head toward Charles, observing his stoic side profile. “You’re single, haven’t gotten laid in months—”

“—weeks.” Corrects Charles with a cough, the defense coming at an embarrassing speed.

“…Case in point. And sports gets everyone horny. And if you didn’t know, Mattia actually OK-ed the condoms, so you’ve basically been greenlit by your boss to fuck half the world. Thank me later. I’m proud of myself.”

“Sports gets everyone competitive. Because it’s sports. Which, you’re conveniently forgetting, is my life profession.”

“Loosen up,” Joris whistles lowly. “You think Lewis got seven titles by being a closed-off celibate? It’s practically tradition to fuck around if you’re single in sports. And, for others, being in a relationship is barely an obstacle, anyway.”

Charles hates to admit that Joris is right—because he is. Racing isn’t racing without the extravagant parties that follow, and the girls and guys brought back to hotels for reasons known to everyone. People from everywhere come to the paddock and the clubs—models, influencers, actors. The pent-up energy has to go somewhere, he supposes.

But even if the little shit is right, Charles still maintains a level of dignity. Ergo, he’s steadfast in his belief that he will not be sleeping around or putting this godforsaken box of condoms to any semblance of use while the rest of the season progresses. He just hopes he won’t eat his words.

—

Monza kicks off with a 1-2 and secures Charles with a comfortable lead ahead Max.

He is high on adrenaline all night, toasting and chugging to the win, snapping pictures with Carlos, proud out of his mind. It’s everything he’s wanted and more, a quench to the thirst he’d developed over the season, a slap in the face to his doubters, a kiss on his. He texts his family, friends who aren’t present, some other people who he feels are deserving of a personal announcement, and pockets his phone.

“Now would be a great time to put that gift to use,” Carlos says at some point, when everyone in the garage is kicking back alcohol and slowly preparing to move the celebrations someplace else.

Charles cringes visibly, having almost forgotten about the dreaded gift, and totally forgotten Carlos��� knowledge of it. Even with the recent win, he’s already thinking of the next, the promise of a two-peat, another podium, hell, another 1-2. The condoms were honest to God the last thing on his mind.

They break apart an hour later, when Charles is heading to the hotel and Carlos is headed somewhere else. He’s almost to the exit when someone calls his attention in a curt English voice.He turns and finds Lewis jogging toward him, outside of his race suit and back in the fashionable apparel Charles merely wishes he could pull off.

“Lewis,” he waves, pacing toward him to save the extra few seconds of waiting. 

“Amazing, amazing race, man,” the elder compliments. “You’ve got the best chance at the title here.”

Warmth melts into Charles’ body and he offers praise back, which—praising Lewis is just about the easiest thing in the world. Nerves bleed out of him as the conversation continues, the atmosphere of a finished race a welcome accompaniment to their strategic talk. 

“Headed to a party, yeah?” Lewis asks when they’ve both exhausted the topic. Charles gives a half-hearted shrug, already energized enough from such a momentous win, and he nods in response. “Nah, I get it. Sometimes you just gotta sleep. But hey, if you’re ever free, we should go get dinner sometime.”

—

The “dinner sometime” happens in Singapore. Having gotten P1 beside Lewis and therefore once again high off the adrenaline, Charles claps Andrea on the back and retrieves his phone to view two texts. One reads Put the condoms to use yet, champ? from Joris, and the other Can I take you up on the dinner? from Lewis. One goes answered and the other goes muted on his iMessage.

A little something he failed to remember was Lewis’ plant-based diet, a fact that hurtles back toward him when he can’t find steak on the menu of this classy, hole-in-the-wall type of restaurant. Of course Lewis would know these types of places, he thinks. He’s a millennial semi-hipster with a separate Instagram account for his dog.

Charles ends up ordering pasta, and Lewis beside him orders a cacophony of very vegan, hippy sounding meals, the quantity of which could feed the two of them. “I hope you don’t mind,” Lewis says when the waiter departs, “but a friend is actually joining us tonight.”

“Sure,” Charles says honestly. As long as it’s not some deranged hyperfan, he does well in social situations. Right then, Lewis calls someone over. Charles looks up, squints through the dim mood lighting to try and make out the nearing figure. And then you’re sitting down across them, smiling softly, exchanging hellos with Lewis.

A little something Lewis fails to remember is his “friends” can just as well be called “celebrities,” because he is, after all, a sporting legend. So if Lewis says “friend,” Charles will assume it’s a “friend,” and not a world-famous model whose face is plastered everywhere on and offline.

“Charles Leclerc,” he says blankly.

You introduce yourself, sliding easily into a bout of questions, apologies for missing the race, you’re impossibly jetlagged, it’s crazy. Lewis chips in with something about how he’s already ordered food for the both of you, and this and that, and Charles is hopeless, staring at your face the entire time. He hopes he looks more sexy than aloof or, worse, starstruck, because it’s turning out to be the kind of situation where he looks like the deranged hyperfan, and not the other way around for once.

To be clear, Charles isn’t a fan of you. He just knows of you, because honestly, who doesn’t at this point? You’re talking on and on about how your latest shoot with Jacquemus was a pain because you shot in a tank top in sub-zero weather, but you express it like it’s the most profound topic on Earth.

Lewis turns to him and, in an (eventually successful) effort to include more of Charles in the conversation, goes, “She’s a big Formula One fan, Charles.”

Okay. Common ground. Charles lifts both brows smugly, his eyes flickering back over to you. “Really?”

You meet his eyes and smile, looking downward and blinking owlishly. You’re so pretty, long lashes fluttering as you blink and try to find an answer. Christ, you’re so painfully his type.

Lewis chimes in again—“Really. And not just because she and I are friends. I mean she was into racing before we got acquainted. Honestly. Quiz her and everything”—then excuses himself to “take a call.” (His phone wasn’t even ringing—total bullshit—but Charles is ultimately grateful for it.)

You make a face of shut up toward the departing Lewis, and Charles exhales a quiet laugh at your defiance. You clear your throat and come up with an answer.

“I’m not a big fan,” you say. “I’m more of a casual, ‘every once in a while’ type of fan.”

“That’s what every big fan of sports says,” Charles says smoothly. 

“Is it?” You ask, cocking your head to the side, making a tch noise. You chuckle before going, “Well, if you insist, I’ll be honest. I didn’t want it to come to this, but okay. I am a fan… of Red Bull.”

Charles fakes extreme offense, his jaw dropping as if totally scandalized. You laugh, throwing two hands up in faux surrender. “Not Red Bull,” he says, his tone making him sound even more devastated. “You’re telling me you—don’t tell me you think Max Verstappen is attractive.”

“I mean, a bit!”

Charles makes sarcastic sounds of disapproval, and you laugh. Charles leans forward, and you do, too, both of you smiling. “So you’re into the angry drivers?”

“I’m not into a specific kind of driver,” you say casually, your tongue peeking out to lick over your bottom lip. Your voice is as soft as it is firm, slow and demure, matching the way your eyes glint. You’re impossibly pretty. He almost can’t handle it.

“So who’s making the cut?” He prompts, interested.

“Well, for starters, drivers who are my age,” you say slowly. “I turned twenty-four this year, so anyone within that bracket.”

“Oh?” Charles pretends to delve into deep thought, teasing. “Maybe Stroll? He’s very funny, speaks good English. You can never really say no to a Canadian.”

Your face warms, and you hope your flustered state isn’t too obvious as you shake your head. “He seems fun, but I prefer somebody a bit… a bit older.”

“Older…” he hums. “Pierre, perhaps? Tad bit older, real charming, great driver. I can introduce you. We’re good friends, you know.”

You click your tongue, smiling shyly. You bite your lip and it takes everything in Charles to not turn on his horny gears when he sees you, big eyes and lip bite, look so pretty. “You tease me,” you say meekly. Charles covers a cough with a chuckle and adjusts his position on the seat.

Later, after Lewis comes back in (“Long call, eh? It was about Roscoe.” Bullshit again) and you all get to order drinks, and you’ve departed in your private car, pressing an air kiss to Lewis and waving goodbye to Charles, he turns to the Mercedes driver and hums.

“Next time you have one of these”—he points to the restaurant, gestures to the front door—“dinners, let me know, okay?”

“Ah.” Lewis winks, smirking. “I’ll be sure to.”

—

Understandably, your schedules never seem to mesh well together. Lewis ends up giving Charles your number as compensation.

He stares at the contact longer than he’d like to admit, when he’s marinating in the sweltering heat of Austin. He’s finished much of his work for this half of the day so he’s mostly watching the engineers work on the last bits of modification for Sunday; he cherishest the free time and drafts, reads, and rereads texts, scours Google and Instagram for pictures of, and anything related to, you.

There’s a few new articles about buying a new car (a Benz, much to Charles’ chagrin) and new photoshoots intermittently scattered across Europe, with all sorts of brands. He sees a picture you’ve posted of yourself smiling at the camera and thinks of how pretty it would look as his lockscreen. 

Am I seeing you soon? He texts finally. He hopes it’s enough to let you know who he is.

Hopefully is the reply. He smiles the whole day.

—

You’ve been texting and calling almost everyday, conversations stretching continents. He only sees you next in Mexico, Friday night, at a club Lewis has rented out for a crazy price that will no doubt be replenished in days anyway. He’s dropped to second here, but the thrill riding in him makes up for his disappointment. The place is so crowded—everyone and their mums seem to have been invited here—room blinking purple and blue, each step vibrating with the heavy bass of EDM. He catches you right as you exit the washroom area, and you look pleasantly surprised to see him.

He saw you earlier, when you were doing shots of tequila and chatting with with Bella and Lewis, but just as quickly as he spotted you, you’d dipped back into the sea of people. Now is better, he thinks. You two are alone.

“Charles, hi,” you say casually. You’re wearing a tight top and a short skirt that, despite Charles’ best efforts, always cast his gaze downward. He wonders what’s underneath, hungers to get his hands there. But he’s nothing if he’s not patient, willing to play the long game.

He takes a step forward, his gaze steady on you. Charles isn’t the tallest driver, but he’s got a big presence. You swallow, taking a step back to accommodate him. He smirks. “You look pretty.” 

“You flatter me,” you say thickly, smiling, inviting him closer. The air is hot around the both of you—when your eyes flit around, they see nobody. You’re alone together. His eyes pierce into yours so deep you feel like breaking eye contact, exhaling as you take another step back—evidently, you’re distracted, because you stumble.

His arm circles around your waist, and once you steady, the hand moves down to your hip. It stays, a reminder of what you might be getting soon. You smile curtly, wondering what this might look like to a bystander, a stranger. Somebody might want to piss and walk in to see the strongest world champion contender’s hand on Chanel’s poster girl’s waist.

“Is this okay?” He asks softly against your ear.

“More than.” You say, breath shaky. “It’s more than okay.”

He chuckles. “Good. I’d hate if we couldn’t fuck before Abu Dhabi.”

Your finger traces down and wraps around the belt loop of his jeans. “Who said anything about fucking?”

Charles exhales a laugh, his lips curling upward into an amused smile. “Ah? I can’t fuck you, then?”

“I’ll let you fuck me when you’re holding up the world champion trophy,” you say sweetly, tugging him closer. “That’s okay, right?” You stare up at him, blinking, pouty. He wonders, is this how you might look with your lips wrapped around his—

“That’s about a month away.” His composure barely wavers, his hand traveling lower, blunt nails digging into your ass. Your breath hitches. 

“I’m aware,” you say lowly. So be it, Charles thinks—he’s got thirty-six condoms for a reason.

“Define fuck,” he says, voice rough.

“Penetration.” You’re quick with it, cocking your head to the side. You lean back confidently, testin him, eyes batting flirtatiously. 

It’s time he get a little creative.

—

Daytime weather is hot and the paddock is swarming with people, but Charles has his sights set on somebody sitting in the Mercedes hospitality. He manages to get out of morning meetings earlier, wedging himself out of the room and passing by a mirror to fix his hair with admirable concentration. He’s in the middle of combing through it when a force tugs at the hem of his polo, causing him to stumble backwards.

“Uh—Carlos? What the hell?” He asks, brow raised defensively. Facing him are Carlos, Joris, and Pierre, arms crossed over their torsos and amused expressions on their faces.

“What are you doing?” Asks Pierre, cocking his head to the side.

“Fixing my hair.” 

“Pussy appointment?” Joris interjects; the vulgarity of his statement earns him a poke on the side from Carlos, who clicks his tongue.

“Wh—I don’t—”

“You are shit at lying, mate,” says Pierre, his lips curled into a devious smile. “Who is it?”

“It’s nobody,” he lies.

“Charles,” says Lewis suddenly from behind them, waving his arms to get the former’s attention, “are you going to go over and say hi?”

Hook, line, and sinker. He’s been caught. “Well, well, well,” Carlos starts, mischievous.

“Guys—” Charles says, attempting to make an excuse.

“Looks like your vow of celibacy isn’t so far off after all,” Pierre adds. “That one over at Mercedes is going to break it, eh?”

“Yeah.” Joris says, smirking.  “Lucky George, huh.”

The three face him, incredulous. “I was kidding,” he fibs, once he realizes his epiphany is wrong. “Kidding.”

Charles walks off, and ends up seeing you right where he expected you, sitting beside Lewis in a tiny dress with your hair pinned up into a bun. Almost naturally, your words fall into the flirtatious back-and-forth you’d started at the dinner, hyperaware of the cameras snapping your pictures. At some point, the Brit excuses himself to “take a call” (again, bullshit) and leaves the two of you alone.

“See anything nice on the paddock?”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” you say with a teasing smile, head cocking to the side to gauge his reaction. He chuckles.

“Did you get a picture with Max?”

“Only a ton.” You pause. “And Daniel, too.”

“Ah, you’re just crushing on the whole paddock, now are you?” He pokes his tongue into his cheek, leans forward.” Uh, Checo?”

“Pass,” you say with a nose scrunch. You’re so fucking pretty.

“Lewis.”

“God, pass. He’s not ugly, but he’s my brother at this point.”

“Pierre.”

“Horribly French, but… smash.”

“Are you not into the French?” He smiles. “Good to know. Hmm—Carlos.”

“I’d be stupid to say anything other than smash.” You narrow your eyes, licking over your lips. “I’m into the Ferrari guys, is the thing.” His gaze travels to your crossed legs, long and disappearing into the hem of your dress.

He smirks. “Are you?”

“I really am,” you hum.

“Are you staying long? All weekend?”

“Yeah, I’m free from work for now,” you say casually. “Any recommendations on what fun things I can do here?”

“I can think of…” he says, smirking a little. “A few.”

—

Stupid places to have sex, number one: a motorhome.

Still, Charles is crowding you up against the wall of the room, swallowing the whimper that leaves your mouth with his own. And still, this isn’t sex. At least not the kind he wants the most. He mentally praises Carlos for being able to decipher the typo-laden text he’d sent out on the way here, one hand around your waist, the other barely capable of typing with how fast his brain ran. Clesr the fuckng room npw now npw it read. Thank God.

Your mouth tastes like champagne, and everywhere else smells divine. Your hands roam impatiently over his shoulders and you make muted noises of frustration at your inability to pull his shirt off. You settle for letting your hands crawl underneath it, stroking over his abs.

“D’you remember what I told you,” you pant, his lips insistent on your neck, “at the club?”

“Yeah,” he says, grunting at the memory.

“Okay.” You breathe. “Let me suck you off.”

“Fuck,” he groans. “Jesus. Okay. Fuck.”

You giggle, and he watches intently as you drop onto your knees, looking up at him through thick lashes. You’re insistent, pulling the zip of his jeans down and tugging his cock out. It’s pretty, thick like the rest of him, already hard. 

He’s at his limit, having you here like this, on you knees and stretching your lips around the tip of his dick. Your eyes barely leave his, fluttering as they tear up when you take him in your throat.

He throws his head back, squeezes his eyes shut, lets a hand unpin your bun and thread itself into the untangled hair. If he looks at you, he’ll see your head bobbing up and down on his cock, and he genuinely needs to hold off the orgasm first.

He rocks forward into your mouth and feels your throat close up around him. That’s enough to weaken his resolve, send grunts out of his throat that he can’t keep quiet.

“Oh, shit,” he says, feeling every part of your mouth and throat around him, warm and tense. He can’t help but thrust harder, steady but not too rough, growing more aroused with every sound of you choking on him.

His gaze flickers toward you. You’re teary-eyed, lips dotted with spit, choking yourself on his cock. Just for him, here in public. You pull off, blinking tears away from your face and looking up at him smilingly.

He laughs, guiding his cock back into your mouth, watching the way your brows knit together, pleading, almost. You're at his mercy, he thinks, thrusting harder, listening to your coughs. He loves seeing you like this, innocent face messy and slick with spit and precum, eyes big and needy.

“You like that?” He grunts. “Look at me.”

You nod the best you can. Yes, you want to say. Give me more, I love it.

“Yeaaah, fuck. I know you do,” he says through his teeth, staving off his orgasm the best he can before he releases all over you. The image alone of streaking you with his cum, claiming you all over-eyelashes, tits, cheeks splashed with cum-is enough to send him closer to the edge. “Gonna cum,” he grunts.

You moan around him, the vibrations causing his eyelids to flutter. You shake your head, pulling off and wrapping your hand around his dick, stroking slower. “Not yet,” you say sweetly, watching him throw his head back in pleasure and frustration. He runs a hand through his sweaty hair, exhales shakily.

“Shit.” He whines. “Come on, baby. Make me cum.” He cups your jaw, stares down at you.

You stroke him faster, lip between your teeth. “Okay,” you say with a smile. “Cum for me, Charles.”

He stops staving himself off, falls into the pleasure and relief of your hand around his cock until he’s tense all over, knitting his hand into your hair and pushing you backwards so he can press his tip on the flat expanse of your tongue and let his cum shoot there. It drips from your tongue and lips onto your chin and you giggle, swallowing it, scooping up the rest to push into your mouth.

You stand, licking your lips slowly. “I owe you,” he pants, zipping himself up. Already he’s thinking about what he can do to you in return. Tease you, like you did him, bend you over his lap or sit you on it and make you whine and writhe and wait and cum. 

“I’ll hold you to that, champion,” you murmur, kissing his cheek and slipping back outside.

—

Ferrari’s advice is shit and despite his good mood and quick-witted driving, Charles finishes in fifth—not too shabby, but disastrous for his overall standings.

He suffers through a horrible debrief where attempts to defend his honor go unheard, his mood wilting and wilting until he’s at the media pen and ushered in front of some network he hasn’t heard of. They’ve probably paid to get a good seat here.

He’s in a shit mood, he hasn’t seen Joris or Pierre or you in hours, and has only faced red-faced frustrated superiors and now, wide-eyed journalists with loose mouths. The media’s done the mandatory speculation between the two of you, so he already expects questions of that variety, but it’s still hot and angry when he does.

Are you banging the Marc Jacobs model? The Irish reporter asks with a wink, so very unprofessional and not at all belonging to reputable media. The hot leggy one who has fuck me eyes?

Charles clenches his jaw, rolls his eyes, says fuck off mate and shoves him backward a little, then walks away and readjusts his cap. The clip makes Twitter and he feels even worse with the amount of troll accounts telling him to Jeez, take a joke.

After the ordeal, in your hotel room, you sigh softly and run your hands through his still shampoo-smelling hair. “You didn’t need to do that,” you say, a bit strictly. He knows you’re grateful, though, and a bit proud.

“I wanted to,” he insists softly. He forgets to leave before morning; when he does, he forgets his official Ferrari shirt hanging on the seat, leaving in a spare one instead. It’s got his number across the back. You don’t tell him.

—

In between Mexico and Sao Paulo, he manages to catch a flight to New York to peek into one of your photoshoots. It’s for Chanel and he’s half-sure he’s taken more pictures of you than the official photographer did. At this point your vague relationship status has caught onto headlines everywhere, and he doesn’t miss the curious murmurs from paparazzo that follow him as he enters your apartment later to greet you.

You’re in a pair of shorts and a tank top when you open the door, greeting him with a tight hug and leading him inside with a loose grip.

“Wine?”

“Please.” He eyes the wide area, the big floor-to-ceiling windows and the art on the walls. “Hungry?”

“Mmm.” You hum, sliding a glass toward him. “Starving.”

“Pizza?”

“Something else.” You smile. He tears his eyes away from your tits, poking out of the thin cotton, and coughs.

The both of you end up on the couch, your legs draped over his as you talk about racing.

He’s ranting about how he’s neck to neck with Max now, and the final verdict will likely be decided at Abu Dhabi, a fact that sends nerves all through him. You’re listening, you really are, but it’s difficult to keep listening because his hand, big and rough, is stroking your bare calf as he talks absentmindedly. 

You offer the occasional mmm-hmm and uh-huh and even the oh really to sell it, but he doesn’t seem to be conscious of how many sparks are coursing through you because of his hand on your leg. He just talks and talks, accent curving into curse words elicited by the competition.

And his voice, rough and deeper when he slides into Italian phrases, gets in your head, reminds you of the way he’d moaned when you had his dick in your mouth. You like that? he’d said, panting, heavy, hot. His hand remained in your hair, controlling you the same way you did him. Fuck.

When you blink, he’s stopped talking, and has likely noticed your wandering imagination if his teasing smile is anything to go by. You cough, clear your throat, adjust your thighs. You’re thinking—you can’t stop thinking—about what happened in Mexico, not just in the motorhome but in the club where he’d let his hand sprawl over your ass and stay there, possessive.

The tension rises. I owe you. He really does. You reach over and grab your phone from the coffee table, snap a few pictures of him. “—Hey!” He protests, scrabbling to grab it from you while balancing his half-full glass. “I look god awful.”

You stand up, review the picture. He looks so impossibly handsome. “You’re right, you do,” you say, pouting. 

He reaches over again, chuckling, and you avoid him. “Foul play!”

“Tch. At least show it to me,” he says defeatedly, so you do: presenting your screen to him.

Quickly, he makes a grab for it, but you just escape his grip, ending up right in front of him and leaning over. You’re losing your balance, digging your toes into your carpet to maintain stance. He spares a glance at your shorts, riding low on your hips, showing a bit of thin lace.

Charles tugs you forward by the hem of your top and then takes your wrist into his grip—the force of his grab makes your tits shake underneath your flimsy tank top. It’s dragged down so far your tits are spilling out. His eyes flicker down to them, dark, and a pretty smile spreads across his face.

“Come on, give it,” he challenges, eyes narrowing a little. You bite your lip, inwardly liking this a little too much—being at his mercy, trapped in his strong grip. You’re flustered and it shows.

He wrestles you onto his lap with ease, his arms steady around you. You stare downwards, dark eyes meeting his, hand on his broad shoulder for leverage. He’s so pretty, you think, so hot and handsome and you need him right now. Through his jeans you can feel how thick he is, his dick growing, getting hard and huge under you. It feels big even through a few layers—you can’t help but imagine how it might feel inside you.

Your phone clatters to the carpet behind the couch. “I win,” you say breathlessly.

He grabs your hips and jerks his upward, letting his stiff dick press up even more against your shorts.

“I think I’m the winner here,” he says gruffly, hands feeling you up all over. He thumbs at your chest, rubbing over your tits. You shiver—it feels good having him on you like this, your mind turning to mush.

“Shut up,” you laugh, shakily. A hand wanders in between your thighs, another coming to squeeze your barely-covered ass. You can’t focus on much, just his hands roaming everywhere and his hard dick pressing against your core. He shoves your hips downward again, his cock hard and perfectly against your pussy.

“You feel that?” He asks; it leaves him in one low breath.  

“Yeah,” you say, whimpering. “I want it.”

He grinds up against you again, his thumb teasing the hem of your shorts. Closer to where you want it. “Don’t think you could even take it, baby.”

“I hate you,” you say. “You know I can.”

He laughs. “We’ll see, yeah?” You find a rhythm of grinding down against his cock, nestled right against your ass. He’s everywhere and you can’t handle it anymore, finding yourself craving him more and more.

You moan against his neck—and then come to your senses. “No.”

He smirks when you pull away. “Tempted, were you?”

“Not…” You pause. You’re sweaty, flushed all over, and your panties are sticking to you from how wet you’ve grown. “Not very.”

—

Abu Dhabi is a son of a bitch.

It comes with meetings, meetings, debriefs, calls, meetings. Everything is riding on the night’s race, the flurry of social media a welcome source of anxiety for him as he watches the hours whiz by. You’d missed seeing him, understood he was busy; you send a selfie to compensate and it gets him calm enough to last the pre-race buzz.

Time speeds by with lunch, coaching, drills, talks with Carlos and Mattia and even Max, who displays support as strongly as competitiveness. Before he even realizes it, he blinks and he’s in his suit, adjusting his balaclava, inhaling, exhaling. Everything is just the way he likes—needs—it to be.

He drives himself to P2 behind Max, eyes shut.

All else seeps into him, natural method, natural routine. He flexes his thumbs. Through the team radio his engineer goes good luck, and Charles’ practice bleeds into his subconscious. The air is heavy, with tension and excitement, the division of blue and red. Everyone’s eager to see who claims the title. 

The lights go off and everything is left to skill, blurring into noise and turns and expletives yelled into the team radio. He can’t even feel himself think, turning with dexterity and overtaking with the kind of vengeance he hasn’t let out in a while. 

For all his trying, Max keeps up just the same, keeping a neck and neck level for the relative entirety of the race. They’re milking out the last few laps together, and Charles feels every fibre of his being work toward this, just this, nothing but this right now. Nothing but the finish line.

You got this, Charles, says the engineer, voice heightening. Maiden world championship.

He nods to himself, trusts his instincts and when he catches sight of the finish line, he thinks: he’s the best driver on the grid.

So he revs faster, and the rest descends into—

Absolute fucking chaos.

—

He’s smiling when he approaches the reporter, who’s already holding the mic with wonder. He asks for a message in Italian, then reminds him—and the crowd—that, in case he forgot, he’s world champion. Charles thinks he genuinely can’t ever.

“What are you doing to celebrate?” He asks then, smiling.

Sweaty, with damp hair and shiny skin, he smirks and leans closer. “Someone, I hope.”

—

“Hey there, champ.”

You’re already leaning against his hotel room door when he gets there, after the chore of wrestling himself free from the rest of the team pressuring him to get drinks. Carlos helps out, babbles something or other about Charles being “busy with something else”—which isn't wrong, not at all. He offers a smooth wink, bending down to kiss you.

Your mouths meet, softly first then increasingly messy as he pins you against the door. You push away, breathing heavy. “I don’t know what you’re into, but I don't want the top floor of this hotel seeing us fucking.”

“I wasn’t into that, but now that you brought it up…” You swat his arm and he laughs, unlocking the door and pulling you inside. You’re clinging onto him—his arms, his chest, anything, kissing up his neck and jaw. He groans at how needy you are. All for him, he thinks. Probably soaked through your panties and it’s all because of him.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he says gently, voice low as he leads you to the bed. He catches sight of your shirt and a brow raises. “Did you buy that?”

“Hmm?” You look down, following his gaze and blinking. The shirt you’re wearing is loose, hanging off your shoulders and hastily tucked into your miniskirt so it looks like you actually have trousers on. “Oh. No, this is yours.”

“Mine.” He smiles a little. “You look so good in it, princess.” His hands mindlessly grope at you, hungry, sneaking underneath your skirt to feel at the lace there. 

In retaliation, you lean forward, unbutton his jeans and tug at it.

“You left it at one of my”—you gasp, feeling his finger sneak its way beneath your panties—“my hotel rooms.”

“Pretty girl, pretty shirt, pretty lace, yeah?” He tugs, lets the garter of the skirt loosen and fall off your hips on its own. “Red.”

“You take too long,” you groan.

“You’re just eager,” he laughs, thumbing at your clothed cunt.

You’re so wet, evident even in the lazy circles he rubs over your entrance. You’re aching, desperate, begging almost. So he gives you what you want, maneuvers you onto his lap and pushes your (his) shirt up to stuff your mouth with it.

It won’t work for long, but it’s enough. He pushes your panties to the side and pulls his hard dick out. You’re sitting against it now, leaking slick onto it, at his mercy, branding his name and his number across your back. It’s hot. 

He stares at the way you rock softly against him, hungry eyes meeting yours. “You’re so pretty, baby. Ruined.”

“Fuck me already,” you say, voice throaty, innocent.

“Can you take it?” He asks, teasing you, slapping his dick against your clit softly. You whine.

“Please,” you insist. “I want it. Make it fit.”

He’s a massive tease with it, his breath fanning against your skin, hands sticky on where they’ve hiked your shirt up. He lowers you, slower, against the tip of his dick and he watches your eyes flutter when you sink onto it. After ages of waiting. Your grip’s like iron on his shoulders, moans leaving you in quiet bursts of pleasure. 

You’re far away, dumb from the feeling, you barely register the way he shoves the shirt back into your mouth to keep you quiet. “So fucking tight, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say. It’s muffled, barely intelligible. “For you.”

You’re only able to take it because you’re so wet, so turned on, face and brain filled with nothing but pleasure. He can’t take it.

“Mmmfh,” you say, muffled by the bite of cotton in your mouth. You’re sweaty, flushed, overstimulated—you don’t know where to focus. On his lips against your jaw, his hand on your neck, the way your pussy swallows his aching dick. “It’s so big, I—”

“You okay?” He asks, breathily. Smiling. He’s in control, but still he sounds whiny—almost, if not as desperate as you. “You’ll take it all for me, won’t you?” 

“Oh god,” is all you muster, letting him stretch you out even more, gushing all over his cock. “I, I—”

He moans, his grip tight against your waist, watching his dick bury itself in you. “You’re getting me so full,” you whine. “So deep, I feel it—” you taper off into a moan again when he presses hs thumb to your clit, distracting you from the stretch as he finally, finally bottoms out.

“Good?”

You nod. So good, give me more.

You grind against him, let the shirt fall out of your mouth. “You’re getting my dick so wet,” he comments, breathless. “So pretty for me, too.”

Growing antsy, he attempts to move, but you whine. Your turn to tease, you think, after he was a dick to you just now. “Not yet,” you say, lip caught between your teeth. His hands are tight around your waist. Desperate.

You squeeze around him, watch his brows knit together, a grunt leave him in a frustrated exhale. “You wanna fuck me?” You tease against his neck, blinking innocently.

“Yes,” he replies, not missing a beat. You pout, like you’re empathizing with the problem you’re causing; you grind slowly against him and he lets out a guttural fuuuuck. He’s so big, so hard—you can feel every inch of him inside you.

“Tell me again, Charles,” you say with a giggle. You’re so hot like this, face flushed and timid, hips moving slowly. He could cum just from the way you bite your lip, the way a whimper slips out of you when he hits the right spot.

“—Yeah,” he says, sweetly. “I want to—please, let me fuck you. C’mon, baby, can I?”

“Aww,” you tease. 

“Can I?” He asks again, voice deep and thin with the need to fuck you, thrust up into you and make you the dumb one. His face is flushed and desperate. “Can I move, baby? Let me, please.”

You’re not stupid. You know—if his flushed, pleading face and big green puppy eyes are anything to go by—that he’s going crazy, growing antsy. But you’re not complaining.

“Hmm,” you say, feigning genuine thought. “I don’t know, Charles. Feels good just like this. And you want to make me feel good, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says.

“Yeah.” You repeat, staring into his dark eyes. He’s frustrated, desperate, flushed all over and sweaty. His fingers dig into your hips. “I’ll make you feel really good, baby, if you let me.”

“Go ahead,” you say softly, “fuck me, please.” And he’s thrusting upwards to meet you halfway. It’s knocking you out, almost, the pleasure of it, the dizzy onslaught of euphoria. He’s stretching you out so well, whining softly into your neck and yeah, you two have waited far too long to have this. You 

“Fuck,” he grunts, lids squeezed shut and head rolled onto your shoulder. “Go on, baby, ride it, make me cum.” He cups your jaw, reaches his thumb into your mouth. It’s too much, all of it. He makes you suck on it while thrusting up, dizzying you with his cock.

He grabs handfuls of your ass, teases his thumb at your tighter asshole just to watch your eyes flutter, feel your cunt grow wetter. “I’ll fuck you even fuller next time,” he says; the implication gets you hot.

You bounce harder, chasing release as his thumb teases over your ass, the tip of it just thrusting in enough to elicit strings of moans out of you. “Come on, ride me,” he goads. “So good for me.”

“Fuck,” you pant, “cum in me, please.”

You cum first, writhing around him and riding your orgasm out in lazy grinds over his hard cock. You want to see him cum, see his eyebrows knit and his mouth release pretty whines, feel him claim you inside, hands hot and heavy on your ass. He does, with a guttural fuuuuck, shoving his dick up in you to the base and spurting all his cum in you.

He thrusts, watches his cum leak out of you, fucks it back in, in a vicious cycle. You shiver, blinking coquettishly and watching along—and then you’re both crumpling over each other on the bed behind you. You pant heavily against his chest.

“Hey.” He muses out loud, drumming against your skin.

“Yeah?”

“I have thirty-six condoms we need to go through. Wanna go on a date?”

[xhanelia]

Hi, I hope you’ve been having a good day! Can I please request a Sova that goes absolutely feral when you pull on his hair during sex... like he's a whole new man when you do that. The thought has been invading my brain and it won't leave hdjwkkdkd

-Sova lover anon

Ngl at all i be giggling and kicking my feet even thinking about this 👉👈 Thanks so much for waiting for me and i hope i do not dissapoint. Love uuuu <333

<<<Reader is she/her. MDNI.>>>

Im lost with words iykyk with Sova (nsfw)

It always starts slow and affectionate with Sova. We know him. He knows himself too. He knows that he is a little bit of an overgrown man (190ish cm long like holly shit boy what did your babushka feed you?) and he doesnt want to overwhelm you with himself.

But if you press his buttons, yeah, he switches a bit fast.

When he gets the 'fuck me hard' signal from you he doesnt care. You are under him now.

For him, its his hair getting pulled by you. Its like a wordless signal between both of you. Does the job perfectly so why need to ask for it, right?

The second you grab a handfull of his beautiful long blonde hair and pull it, he growls from the very deep of his throat. His body lovering over you for you to feel his weight on you more. Mhm. He got what you want for sure.

"You want to do it my way, darling?" The russian accent with the word 'darling' sounds deep near your ear. You know our giant bear. He gotta make sure even if he is too much over to control himself.

His moves are much over and about controlling you and your body. He is playing with your buttons too but mostly like a 'dim red light sex at midnight' kinda sex iykwim. He is rough but not ROUGH rough. Just the perfect amount to make you squirm under his body.

He can overpower you so easily he cannot lie that this doesnt turn him on. Pulling you in, stretching your legs, lifting you up and everything. And the sounds you make for him while he does these things? He could listen to you all night long. (Thats totaly not the reason he likes long sessions with you.)

This man has the highest stamina in the protocole if it wasnt for kay/o. He climbs up an down on snow for a daily basis. He is not letting you go anywhere if you dont use the safe word and make him stop yourself. If you know how to tire him then its another story.

You swear the first time you two get close like this, you thought that he had no experience whatsoever but now you realize you are so damn wrong. He may not look like he has experience but its all because he wants to make you feel alright and safe in his hands. But if you want to give the control all into his hands, then he will gladly take it from yours.

Kisses, hickeys, bite marks all over your body. Did i mention he has no shame? I guess i did on another one of my posts. I will say it again. He has no shame. He will look proud if anyone notices the hickeys he left over you. They gotta know that he knows how to do his job.

If you were to ask him about how he likes being in charge, he will laugh and just say a simple "yes, i do". Maybe his cheeks will get a little red but not because of embarrassment, its because of he lies how much more he likes it. This man LIVES for these moments.

(I wish i had a Sova for myself 😔)

[dreamerdeity]

𝐊𝐄𝐈𝐑𝐀'𝐒 𝐅𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓: 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐏𝐒

a/n: Really happy to be back on tumblr! College apps have been kicking my ass but it's getting better. Don't be shy to request a matchup, a fic, or a wip for Gaza! I'm also very sorry @tinysoulmentality for not including moodboards I had no time 😭

❁ཻུ۪۪♡ word count: 2k

Keira's Fundraising Event

███▒▒▒▒▒▒ 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . . @tinysoulmentality 's character matchup

Hi! Id like to request a matchup for jjk, bllk and aot. Im mexican and being connected to my culture is very important to me. I love reading dc comics and watching old slasher/horror movies. My favorite color is purple and my favorite holiday/time of year of Halloween. When it comes to relationships, the most important thing to me is being with someone that I know i can be myself with and that I dont have to worry about their loyalty towards me. Here are my donations and pls lmk if theres any other info you need !!!💜💜

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇: 𝐈𝐍𝐎 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐌𝐀

Ino is an interesting little guy. He’s cute, but to say he has game would be like saying that cats can fly (handsome loser :3). When he first met you, he had to do a little double take because hold on a minute. Who’s that pretty lady? He casually walks up to you and blurts out a “You’re not from around here, are you?” ft. nervous voice crack that he manages to play off somehow. The question definitely elicits a few mental eye rolls from you. Typical male-tries-to-hit-on-foreign-girl one-liner, but he makes it… work? Maybe it’s the nervous flush on his cheeks, or the hand that sheepishly rubs at the back of his neck, or the bright smile he musters up to mask the nerves. 

I like to think that Ino is a very cosmopolitan person. It’s not really that he’s traveled all around the world, but more so that he has varied likes and interests spanning many different cultures. He likes to listen to old-school hip-hop and reggaeton. He’s into Italian and Turkish dramas. He sleeps well at night knowing there’s an Indian restaurant and another Mexican one down the block that can curb his cravings for butter chicken and quesadillas. 

So, it’s no surprise that he’s quick to grab a throw pillow and get comfortable on the couch whenever you talk about your Mexican heritage. He doesn’t know much about Mexico apart from the fact that the food goes extremely hard, so he’s always enthusiastic to learn more about the other aspects that characterize your country and its people. 

He also tries to learn some Spanish to “surprise” you but then it’s literally just a “¡Buenos días!” enunciated really badly. There’s a proud smile on his face every time he greets you good morning in your mother tongue though, and it’s very endearing, to say the least. 

To add onto his culture vulture, cosmopolitan vibes, I think he’s also really into movies. The type to just drop a niche movie reference every two seconds and frown deeply when no one gets it. 

Watching horror movies with him is interesting because for some reason he thinks that abruptly grabbing your shoulders mid-movie and growling menacingly would jump-scare you into oblivion, but you’re used to the genre so all it does is make you eye him narrowingly, unimpressed, ready to tell him off for interrupting a very crucial plot development. 

For whatever reason, Ino gives me major horror-enjoyer vibes. He likes analog horror and you’re lucky Halloween is your favorite time of year because it’s his too! Watching The Prowler (i just really like this movie lol) under the blankets with warm, freshly-made popcorn and a pretty lady in his arms? Yeah, count him in. 

One last thing, sorry to be the one to say this, but Ino is definitely the “can you draw me” person whenever he sees your sketchbook or art in general. It’s all in good nature, and he wouldn’t mind it if you say no, but if you do draw or paint him, let’s just say that that drawing will be in his wallet for the rest of his life. Sometimes he’d just randomly pull it out when someone brings you up and proudly hold it up to his company like “Uhuh, my girl drew this. Yup.” 

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐋𝐋𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇: 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐈 𝐇𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐀

I think that, unlike Ino, Chigiri used to be less “out there” in the world in his youth and kept more to himself in terms of being an experiencer of cultural diffusion; It was how he was brought up. But after going pro and meeting many people, traveling to many different places etc, he’s been exposed to the world on a greater scale. That’s how he finds himself meeting you one day at a party. He was charming. Need I say more tbh? That hair, that gentlemanliness, that whole aura surrounding him is hard to resist. He knew just how to sweet-talk but actually meant every word he said. 

Chigiri is one wealthy man, let’s be honest. Pro footballer?  Mbappe in another font? Yeah. I think he genuinely enjoys spoiling and lavishing you with gifts if that’s your thing. 

He loves hearing you talk about your heritage and if you don’t live in Mexico, I feel like if you were to even remotely express that you’re kind of missing your country he’d immediately be like, “Then let’s book a 2 week stay and you can show me all those things you were telling me about.” No biggie. 

Would also rent out the entirety of Playa Sisal in advance because you mentioned (once. 1 [one] time. ) that you were looking forward to taking a dip come the vacation. 

I think that there’s this stigma surrounding footballers and how they’re a bunch of players who sleep around but don’t commit. While that may have some merit, Chigiri is different. Like, have you seen him? Not to mention that he has a sister. 

I feel like he values loyalty and genuine companionship as much as you do, and should you ever feel yourself questioning where you stand within his life, or whether he’s trustworthy, he would be so quick to reassure you and make you feel heard, basically quelling the doubts before they even surface. (Communicative king). 

On the note of communicative king, he’s very good at praise and voicing his appreciation. The sort to genuinely encourage your creative hobbies and praise you for any work you create. He would literally not mind building a home art studio for you to promote your love for art and writing. Like, “Oh, I saw you painting the other day and you didn’t look very comfortable at your desk. Thought I’d make you a little art corner,” he’d say as he sheepishly shows you the “art corner” in question which looks more like a state of the art professional studio. 

I think Chigiri himself is a very artistic person beneath the surface. He just gives off that vibe quite a bit. Picnics where you guys sit at the park and paint the scenery together? So him. 

Would post your art on social media (if you consent ofc!) to his 5 million+ followers and bring you business if you ever decide to open commissions. 

In terms of entertainment, Chigiri is the type to be so clueless when it comes to media because he just doesn’t have the time. Like you were shocked when he told you he never watched Star Wars. Sir, what do you mean?? 

It became your job to educate him on the vast world of entertainment, namely movies. He doesn’t really care what you pick as long as you’re happy. So when he’s got some free time on his hands, he’ll binge horror or DC/Marvel movies with you and even try to analyze the plot as it’s happening (don’t kill him please he’s just trying to show he’s interested). 

Would buy you merch of your favorite movies and get giddy when you wear it/decorate your room with it etc.

Lastly, I think Chigiri would sulk in the corner if you insist he let you dye his hair purple since it’s your favorite color, but he literally can’t say no to you, so eventually he yields reluctantly but shockingly, once all is said and done, he figures out he actually really like how purple looks on him. 

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐎𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇: 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈 𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍

I’m gunna be honest. I think it just makes sense for Levi to like you because black cat x orange cat trope?? Him and Hange? Him and the Eren gang in general? Yeah. 

Going by your mbti, I imagine you’re not very extroverted, and I think that’s something that genuinely makes Levi let out a sigh of relief sometimes. 

*glance at each other* You: “wanna leave this party?” Him: “You read my mind.”

If loyalty were a person, it would be this man. He shows it in the small things, I’d say: Leaving you short messages before he leaves for work every morning, bringing you things that remind him of you, etc. I feel like that would be his way of saying “I’ve got eyes for you only/I’m always thinking about you and you alone”. 

Levi is such a meanie on the surface and I find it kind of hilarious. Like, I think you guys would complete each other's snark and sarcasm and people would not know whether you two are joking or not meanwhile yall are just trying to bite back giggles. 

If I’m being honest, Levi doesn’t strike me as a very creative person. He seems more of a STEM sort of guy if we think of him in a modern au, so he doesn’t pay much mind to the arts as a field. 

That’s not to say he isn’t supportive of your creative endeavors of course. You know when parents have no idea how a sport you play works but they still passionately cheer at your games regardless? Yeah, that’s Levi with your art, writing, etc. It’s all impressive to him even if you don’t think so and he’ll make sure you know that. 

“I love this poem you wrote. You could be famous if you took this up professionally,” he’d say even if there was like a single sentence on the page. 

Would be the type to send you anything art or writing related he gets on his fyp like “yup, she’s definitely gonna love this/find it helpful”. 

This might be an unpopular opinion, but I think Levi is actually a film buff. There, I said it. Something about him strikes me as movie lover. He would be the type to drop a quote from some obscure movie from the 50s with a straight face in the most serious tone ever which makes it even funnier. 

So, when you two have some free time, he loves to watch things with you while cuddling on the couch. he’s the type to read the captions before the characters actually say them and it just spoils the scene for him, and then he’d sulk as if it’s your fault, but it’s cute. 

When you two are watching horror movies, he’s the type to tsk and mutter under his breath complaining about the costumes or about how if he were there he would’ve totally killed that demon in like two seconds.

[nobodywritingao3]

i feel kind of sick making this post so please excuse me if i sound like a rambling mess. i am not the type of person to talk in detail about my life in online places cuz i live in fear of this getting back to my abuser but shubble's story punched all my most sensitive spots and i want to talk about it

(really long sensitive post)

ive gotten kind messages from people that i havent responded to. the idea of responding to people individually kind of makes me feel sick. so im doing this instead. and im also going to vent really hard because i am not doing well and talking about this to my therapist is soul crushingly embarrassing because wilbur soot is a minecraft man and im a freshly turned 20 year old who pays rent and is respected by my therapist and i dont want to admit that i wrote fanfic about a 30 year old white boy i discovered in quarantine when i was 15. can you imagine that conversation? id have to explain what the dream smp is.

when i watched shubble's video for the first time, i was in total disbelief. i couldnt believe that wilbur soot had done these things but i knew that the liklihood of it being anyone else was pretty low. i chose to hope that the story was not about him, and that if it was that he was a reformed abuser who had reorganized his value system and respected his partners now. i had a lot expectations. then he released his statement and i was horrified. i was disappointed and kind of in denial. his statement was worse than anything i had prepared for as 'worst case scenario.' as time has passed my denial has mostly dulled but im ashamed and im embarassed and im badly triggered.

i kind of hysertically hoped that it was a sick prank that shubble and wilbur cooked up and would get horribly cancelled for, but its not a prank, theres no "haha sike" moment, and wilbur abused shelby.

his response undid me because i saw so much of my own abuse in the words he used.

abusers are really good at making people take a centrist "two sides to every story" stance. i dont know how to describe this to people who have never been abused, but i will do my best

most people are taught that when theres an argument between two people, both parties carry some amount of blame and if you want to resolve that issue, it's a good idea to look at your part in the dynamic. we're also taught to keep our disagreements between ourselves and to not involve other people in our drama.

these are sensible sentiments, but abusers are very good at manipulating these sentiments.

when a victim speaks up for themselves and they call someone an abuser, what they are saying is: "this person cruelly bullied me and hurt me and exerted control over me that i did not deserve or ask for or elicit."

that's a heavy accusation and it contradicts sentiments we are taught like "it takes two to tango" and "dont involve others with your relationship drama."

many abusers are charismatic people. id even say most. when you hear this accusation about someone you think is really cool, your natural instinct is to ask for their side of the story.

they will tell you some version of this:

"i am shocked and hurt that she would call me an abuser. we've been having relationship problems recently, and sometimes i lose my temper. im not proud of that. ive done a lot of things im not proud of. it's true that i did [insert played down act of violence] to her, but you wouldnt believe the horrible things she was saying to me. i lost control, and im so ashamed of myself."

this version of events makes the abuser seem reasonable, it makes the victim seem irrational and quick to blame and hysterical

from here, a lot of people will nod thoughtfully and go. "yeah. yeah. that makes sense. everyone has a unique perspective. the fact that shes attributing all the blame to him without recognizing her own flaws and contributions to the relationship while he does shows that hes the reasonable one here. hes such a chill guy. the things shes saying dont make sense at all. i probably wont say it to her face, but i think shes in the wrong."

wilbur's response hit all the beats im familiar with. it was so in line with everything my abuser used against me, and in line with what ive heard other victims say their abusers used against them, and in line with examples ive read and witnessed and had countless psychiatrists walk me through that reading it was like getting hit by a train.

the hope that i carried with me through that week was that wilbur was a reformed abuser. but reading that response gave me the gut wrenching confirmation that he wasnt.

thinking about it too much literally makes me sick and shaky in a way i havent experienced since my own abuser tracked me down the first time and gave me a beautifully wrapped gift. with my abuser, i had several years trapped with him where all the love i felt for him disappeared and was replaced by total hatred for everything he put me through. i wasnt expecting this from wilbur at all, and i feel fucking sick because this was a man i sincerely admired and looked up to a lot. i really liked wilbur soot. he released that response and this image in my head that i had of him was tainted by the memories of my abuser.

im reminded of one event several years ago where i was choked. i tried to ask for help but everyone who knew immediately reached out to him and asked for "his side of the story." i dont want to talk about what he did to me after that. all that matters is that in the end, no one believed me. everyone took his side over mine and insisted that i was lying or exaggerating or trying to get attention or trying to make him look bad. people who i loved and thought would always be there for me sent me paragraph long text messages calling me a bitch and a cunt. the person i loved the most in the world told me that i was out of line and said point blank that they were sorry, but couldnt believe me over the person who choked me. i had never felt so alone.

ive been having a rough time. i confided in a friend who is trying to escape his abusive husband, and he gently told me that this might mean i have "a type," meaning im naturally drawn to people who are abusive. after i escaped, i took a lot of solace in the fact that i was inspired so much by wilbur soot. i thought he was progressive and stood up for womens rights and was anti bigotry and all those lovely good things. this man i admired so much was the image of healthy, nonviolent, kind masculinity. finding out he isnt has made me question myself and my own judgment and it's making me wonder if the people i let in my life and the people im drawn to are people who i subconsciously know will hurt me.

as of now, its been a year and a half since i escaped my abusive family at 18 years old. i turned 20 like half a second ago. the past 18 months of my life have been devoted to looking into legal protection, getting therapy to undo nearly 2 decades worth of ptsd, trying to keep all my baggage to myself because i dont want to burden my friends anymore than i have, and holding down a steady job so that i can afford rent without having to rely on the parents of my friends to house and feed me and keep my location secret from an insane group of people who reeeeally want me to come back even tho im pretty sure one of them might """""accidentally"""" kill me one day

i feel ashamed and embarrassed by being this affected by wilbur soot. parasocial relationships are looked down upon and i feel like the perfect stereotype of a hysterical, delusional teenager / young lady finding out that her hero is "a flawed human being, just like you and me - seriously, what did you expect?!"

i already see people jumping to his defense, although i try to look away because that is also extremely triggering for me.

it is hard not to acknowledge wilbur's humanity, and i want to clarify that i do feel compassion for the amount of death threats, doxing, and isolation he is undoubtedly experiencing right now. no matter what you do, i dont believe that retributive justice or revenge is a proactive, sane response. i am sincerely worried that he will either try to kill himself as a last ditch attempt for sympathy OR that he will actually just kill himself from the public shaming. i do not want him to experience a mental health crisis and i do not want him to die, even tho he has horribly disappointed me and reminded me of so many bad things

this was kind of an insane post. im ready for it to get 1 note and then experience a horrifying amount of embarrassment as i realize that people read this and know disgusting amounts about me as a person, but i want to share my experience as someone who has been abused. i want to offer solace to people who are in the same boat and possibly reach someone who might have otherwise believed wilbur was telling the truth.

i want to end this post on a positive note, so im going to share some naive hope ive been repeating to myself for the past few days

i hope that people believe shubble. i hope she finds comfort and compassion and healing. i hope she can internalize that what happened to her was not her fault. i hope she lives a happy life surrounded by people who see her and care about her

i hope that the people close to wilbur make him confront this side of himself. i hope he fixes his abuse problem and reorganizes his values. i hope his network of people is strong enough not to abandon him entirely but to intervene and make him work on himself. i hope he stays alive and i hope that he becomes an advocate for abused women

this was cheesy and unrealistic but ive been sending my hope into the universe and trying not to shut down because i dont know what else to do and my two hours of government issued weekly ptsd therapy is already devoted to the horrible things i experienced firsthand

anyway

as far as my fanfiction goes???? i dont fucking know.

im not going to delete it. im definitely taking a break and at least stepping into a pause so i can properly reflect on what to do in the meantime. as a musician and writer and creative in general, i was inspired by many aspects of wilbur soot for years and i need a second to chill out and get a hold of myself

maybe ill complete my work. if i do ill upload the finished products in one go and probably orphan them. and maybe delete my ao3 account. god knows at this point

i am still cringing so hard at myself for making this post. it's very emotional and i try to sell myself as serious, intellectual person. maybe this post will be received great or badly or just be ignored. in any case ill be embarrassed so it doesnt really matter how anyone feels about me after this. if you took the time to read, thank you for hearing me out. and if you didnt, im glad that i got a little catharsis

[tetskuro]

hi gorgeous! could i be 🎀? your matchups are absolutely adorable and i thought of sending in one for myself because, hey, you're pretty cool and i just wanna see who i'm more compatible w shshsh. i would adore a long, romantic matchup!!! i'm a straight woman (she/her) and i'd love to be matched w a male character!! my ideal type in a guy would be someone who's attentive, and a perfectionist. i always work super hard to look good/stay good and i'd appreciate a person who does the same. i also want someone who stands up for what he thinks and isn't easily influenced yk? i like someone who keeps me on my toes and challenges me and motivates me to work harder. i love love love boys who take an effort on dates. i want a guy who listens to the similar music i do and makes playlists for me (id do the same duh) and writes long ass love letters, just because. i want someone who matches outfits with me and holds my hand in public. someone i can trust with anything and we can just yap at 2 a.m. about the most senseless thing there is on planet earth. bonus points if he looks tall and scary because like...yes.

i'm so sorry i ramble a lot but it's just like...unstoppable, anyways a tiny description of me!! i'm an introvert, even if i do not look the part. it's not like i'm shy, i just don't like keeping up w fake people if you know what i mean. i'm confident about myself and know what i want in life. i'm also pretty sarcastic usually and use humor as a coping mechanism. i usually tend to overwork myself because i want to be the best at everything i do. i also ALWAYS stick up for my friends and don't let anyone walk over me or those who matter to me. i love love love listening to people and offering them advice, it fills me with so much glee that they trust me with things like, i'm always here for u!!! also, i'm not exactly a sunshine nor am i grumpy? it really just depends on whom i'm around. i'm 5'0 feet tall, with brown layered waves and curtain bangs, and almond shaped eyes. i'm pretty fair ngl but super tanned around the arms (i forget sunscreen) and i have an hourglass figure. my hobbies are playing the guitar, doing ballet, watching sappy girly romcoms, doing my makeup, listening to songs, studying (sorry im a nerd), shopping and swimming. i do adore a good thriller novel too. ok, ranking the love languages wld be- 1) quality time (giving n receiving) 2) acts of service (receiving n giving ) 3) words of affirmation (giving n receiving) 4) physical touch (receiving) 5) gifts!! (receiving) sorry chat im too broke n uncreative to give any IM SORRY ILL SMOTHER U W LOVE extra info i saw the previous people give, i'm an intp virgo YAY i love taylor swift and the color pink (im the textbook definition of a girly girl) i adore english literature and have won plenty of international writing awards im so proud of it AND AND AND i think youre very cool and awesome and yeah. inserts bow emoji cause i cant find it. LOVE YOU TAKE CARE STAY HYDRAETD!!!! take ur time bb.

your matchup is...

sakusa kiyoomi

⭑ sakusa is a very attentive person and is always striving to reach perfection

⭑ incredibly detail oriented and doesn't like leaving things unfinished

⭑ you both work super hard and would definitely be able to keep each other on your toes

⭑ he puts a lot of effort into anything he does, so he'd plan out your guys's dates meticulously because he wants to make sure you have a good time

⭑ sakusa also has a tendency to overwork himself so he notices when you're doing the same; that way you'd be able to keep each other in check

⭑ i see quality time and acts of service being sakusa's biggest love languages when it comes to giving

⭑ i feel like the later into the night it is, sakusa would be more likely to indulge in random conversations about anything and everything

⭑ he knows he can always come to you whenever he's in need of any guidance because he trusts you wholeheartedly to listen to him and give advice on important things

⭑ sakusa isn't too big on pda but he would hold your hand while walking around or maybe keep an arm around your waist

⭑ with his dark hair and eyes and height of 6+ ft, sakusa can appear tall and scary to people who don't know him, especially with his mask on

⭑ he'd find your sarcasm amusing and you'd be able to get some chuckles out of him with your humor

⭑ i think he would be a fan of thrillers so he'd love your book recs and finish a novel within a couple of days

⭑ he finds your passion for english literature very admirable and thinks it's so amazing how you've won international writing awards? like that's a huge thing to be proud of

your matchup runner-up is kageyama tobio

[altruistic-meme]

🤡✨🤯

!!!! hi sea :)

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh? trying not to do the same one that i always do (andrew's bored costco thoughts my beloved <3)..... hm..... OH i've got another one from (why is there) joy in this poison!!

“Aren’t Ravens restricted to the Nest?” Kevin sighed. “Yes.” “So it’s all just fantasy,” Nicky laughed. “Not quite,” Wymack sighed, running an agitated hand through his hair as he stepped into the room. All eyes shifted over to him, questioning, and Andrew’s stomach bottomed out. Oh he did not. “Andrew Minyard, what, exactly, have you been planning?” Now, everyone shot him confused looks and Andrew smiled, his eyes only on their coach. “What makes you think I’ve done anything? I would never cause you any trouble, Coach.” “Oh yeah? You have a visitor, Minyard.” He didn’t. “Tell me he didn’t.” “Wish I could.” He did. The door creaked loudly as it opened. And through it, stepped none other than one Nathaniel Wesninski, dressed casually in black sweatpants and a dark gray hoodie. Of fucking course he did. Hysterically, Andrew thought, Two days is not a FEW, Nathaniel. Chaos.

Nathaniel causing absolute fucking chaos is my favorite thing and i just love writing Andrew's thoughts this way and i laugh so hard at this. "oh he did not. he didn't. he did. of fucking course he did."

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉 hmmm....... i have certainly grown a lot as a writer and i have gotten a LOT better at playing with people's emotions with my words >:) i love writing something with the hope of getting a certain reaction (laughter, tears, anger) and then GETTING THAT REACTION!!!! gosh. i'm so proud of myself for this.

🤯 What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)? i'm gonna ignore smut for this, though that is DEFINITELY one. but another is action. i'm not a mentally visual person, so it's very hard for me to picture like, say, a sword fight in my head. which of course makes it incredibly hard to describe what's happening in a coherent way.

this is why im so glad that (wit)jitp is in Andrew's POV bc it means i don't have to put lots of effort into describing exy games :'))))

[ writer asks ]

[ageofhearingloss]

All of the even OR odd numbers, you pick! 💗

OOOOO KAITLYNN WE'RE RUNNING THE GAMUT

im gonna do odds💕💕thank you love

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents?

yeah, but of course it's complicated. my dad and i are best friends but my mom and i have a pretty rocky foundation

03: Do you regret anything?

so much, all the time lol

05: What is your relationship status?

very single- as much as i daydream about romantic love, there's no way i want to be in a relationship

07: What did you last eat?

a very delicious tart bestie @joopsworld made

09: Do you bite your nails?

no but i chew the skin around em

11: Do you like someone?

i don't think so, at least not anyone real/not a parasocial relationship lol

13: Do you hate anyone at the moment?

yeah heh

15: Have any pets?

yes! my baby kitty timmy💕

17: Ever made out in the bathroom?

far too many a time, my friend

19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance?

yeah, i would. i know i shouldn't but there are a lot of situations in my life where i can't help but think if i played my cards differently, maybe the outcome would've been better

21: What are your plans for this weekend?

MY BESTIES ARE COMING INTO TOWN AND WE'RE HAVING A STARCATCHER LISTENING PARTY AND I AM SOSOSOSOOOO EXCITED!!!

23: Do you have piercings? How many?

yup, 8

25: Do you miss anyone from your past?

every day, all the time

27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart?

unfortunately, probably a handful of times

29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry?

mmmmm yeah, i can be really mean when i want my words to hurt someone (i am really not proud of it, it is a defense mechanism)

31: Does somebody love you?

yes, my lovely friends and family💕✨💕✨

33: Do you have trust issues?

L O L (major)

35: Who was the last person you cried in front of?

my stepmom

37: Is it easier to forgive or forget?

it's easy to forget upon the initial hurt. but usually the things you choose to forget will come back and manifest themselves in new ways, almost forcing you to forgive and because you've spent so long trying to forget, it makes the forgiveness that much harder

39: How old were you when you had your first kiss?

12 years old

((questions 41-50 just don't exist? lol))

51: Favourite food?

dominican food💕 never gets old

53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night?

mmm next question

55: Are you mean?

i want to say no; i try my hardest to be as kind and warm and welcoming as i can, but when i want to hurt someone or if i'm feeling hurt myself, i can be really mean (i'm a virgo lol)

57: Do you believe in true love?

if true means unconditional, then yes

59: Do you like the snow?

after living in the midwest of the usa for 15+ years, hellllllll no

61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby?

i hated it for the longest time until someone actually called me baby LOL and then i was like ...hehehe oh wait....

63: Would you change your name?

i wanted to for a long time, but now i love my name so no

65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do?

i wait it out; i'm a big believer in the possibility of feelings changing (either someone losing romantic feelings or the other gaining feelings). but if it's immediate, i would have a candid conversation with them assuming everything will be okay since they are my best friend

67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to?

my dad lol

69: Do you believe in soulmates?

i don't think i believe in soulmates in the sense that only one person is YOUR person forever and ever, but i like the idea of twin flames. there are so many people who will come into your life who are so aligned with who you are and your beliefs that it might feel close to a soulmate situation

[midisty]

Love= Literal gagging

Before reading my blog, just know I am no one special. I don’t mean this in a bad way toward myself, but I am not someone who had it very tough growing up. I wasn’t physically or emotionally abused. I have no trauma. No PTSD. Just borderline personality disorder, which we can get into in another post. I just need a place to vent and bitch and complain. Let’s face it. I’m an attention whore. I’m not one to hide it or even be ashamed about it. I guess that’s the performer in me and why I love singing so much. That high of all eyes being on me. If you would have asked me when I was 15 if I loved attention I would have probably denied it. Now I wear it loud and proud. I’m unapologetically myself nowadays. Flaws and my beauty. Here it is, all on my sleeve.

Todays message from my ex earlier today triggered me to start my first blog post in a really long time. Out of the blue, this guy I dated in Tennessee messaged me, saying he was in Boston, just an hour away from where I live. He asked if he could “visit” me. Not meet up. Not buy me dinner. Not go out on a date, but visit me. In other words, try to get in my pants again. This guy is a real piece of work. His name is Eugene; Gene for short. He is a bilingual, IT tech piece of shit. I met him on the bus that took us to and from our place of employment in downtown Nashville, Tennessee. What drew me to him, was his perceived innocence and the fact that he was older than me. Date #1-he blew me off. That was the first red flag. Red flag #2-“Im not looking for a relationship or anything serious”. Back in this year, I still had hope for these boy type creatures, thinking I could change his mind. I did this a lot out of fear of abandonment and being alone. I wasn’t honest with myself. Red flag #3-He avoided sitting next to me on the bus WHILE we were dating/sleeping with each other. Red flag #4-he took me out to dinner, but then had a full out conversation with our waitress in Spanish so I couldn’t understand what they were talking about. Red flag #5-He completely bailed on me for the 4th of July and blocked me for no reason. When I went to his house, crying and trying to understand why he wouldn’t talk to me, he turned me away. I moved back to New Hampshire, and this guy convinced me to stay with him for a couple nights. He said he’d pay for everything and certainly didn’t. Then when I returned home from the trip he pushed me away again, saying he was seeing someone else. Yeah. I tried way too hard and it came back and bit me.

I have a long history of jerks that I have dated. I have lost count of how many people I’ve dated and forgot names. I now have a block on my heart. No matter how much I miss the feeling of being crazy and obsessed with someone, I can’t seem to bring myself to give anyone a shot. I fooled around with a guy a couple of months ago. I gagged. He didn’t taste bad. I’m definitely attracted to him. He smelt fine. It’s just the literal thought of being with someone again makes me sick to my stomach. My sex drive and desire to love? Gone. I’m passed desperate. I’m passed hurt. I’m passed angry. I’m passed bitter. I literally just don’t want it. I may be single the rest of my life unless somehow this block can be lifted. I have been a desired side piece to marriages. I’ve been used. I’ve been lied to. I’m just done. I love my alone time with my cat. I have no desire to try anymore. And that goes for some other things too….

That’s a story for another time ;-)

[hpdfag]

IM SO GLAD YOURE GOING TO SEE MITSKI??? I’ve always wanted to see her, but she usually doesn’t come to Italy…she did come but I was seeing SKZ that day </3 I love concerts so much! Big concerts can seem scary, but if you’re seated down they’re pretty calm…if you’re standing though, it can be overwhelming at times! But to me all of that adds up to the experience. As someone who’s super autistic, they don’t feel as overwhelming as they probably should, but more…soothing. Make sure to arrive early! Even if you don’t get front row spots, it’s still an amazing experience :} I saw a lot of vids from her tour and she’s really an amazing performer, so you’ll have a great time…also, make sure to bring a lot of water!!

I understand school is so stressful and all… WhatI do when school starts, since I myself hate school and all about it, is trying to romanticise it! I try to get into these wonyougism and study stuff and feeling like an academic weapon…wether I’m failing or not! I just start to feel organized and proud of myself, but of course, that’s hard. So good luck with school!!! You’ll do well, I’m sure…

About the dysphoria thing…I really get it. Sometimes I do cave in and try to change my bodily appearance to resemble my IRL sources! Not sure how to call it. But yes, it’s really painful…I’ve started to view my human body as an “avatar” for my real self, which isn’t super satisfactory of course, but it makes me feel a bit less dysphoric. Of course, I’d love for it to be just like how I remember my soul, but for now let’s…just customise it in a fun way, like a character of some way. This might be more understood if you’re a system, which well you are…I hope I could help a bit with these words, I’m sure you need someone to hear you sometimes :} I hope you’re having a good day!!

- 🧶

YESYESYES IM SUPER EXCITED !!! we got the tickets at the end of last year so ive been waiting for this for so long .... it should be seated as well which is good!! ive only ever been to concerts where im able to sit its like. a requirement almost. i dont have anywhere near the stamina required to stay standing for hours on end ... and we certainly will be arriving early! portland gets crowded as HELL when there's big events, so we'll probably be taking the train in about an hour before the concert starts. and i'll for sure make sure to bring lots of water, and take my meds before leaving as well. it would suck to end up super thirsty at such a cool event !! v_v

and yeayea i get that, i wish smthn like that cld work for me </3 im just pushing through as best as i can! it's not gonna be perfect and aesthetic but i think thatll be alright. the only course im worried about really is credit recovery for math, since i really need to do well with it or ill get kicked out of online school for real which is. very scary!! i feel the best mentally when im able to do my work at my own pace at home, so i'd hate to have to go back to in person school for the last semester of my high school life ...

and that makes sense, yeah! i typically see this body as just an avatar anyways, considering i see this reality as another iteration of the neo world program. its really comforting and can help me with some of the worst of it, but even still, it feels like playing a character very unlike yourself in a video game if that makes sense? there's a dissociation inherent to it. even though this is my avatar that i can customize however i want, the sliders aren't perfect, and the only options, while cool, are more aesthetically pleasing than affirming.

[aghadbeenhere]

What could be better?

AGHADBEENHERE's UNNAMED BLOG: 8#

Heyooo, here again with another somewhat short post to tell all of you that NO, I am indeed not dead, as opposed to what some goverments may say about my likelihood, I am alive and in good health, not only that, I've been doing rather alright as of recently, and by alright I mean good! Life is good, things are going great with my friends and all, we play, chat and all that shit.

Cooking's been going good too, Made myself a BREAKFAST burger because I am just that radical, awesome and totally super SICK, and dont worry, I added lettuce & tomato to it because I do care about my health, people!

My creative works have been.. Eeeh, I haven't really been doing much art-wise or animation-wise and I still feel like I should do SOMETHING about it, but I still got all the time for the forseeable future, so I'm not really worried about anything, maybe sometime soon though I will animate something, and I assure you i will post it here for all of you to see.

But on better news though, and something I am very glad to say..

*drumroll*

I..

Got a boyfriend!

That's right! He's very nice and I'm always happy to talk to him, and I really think just having someone to call 'honey' or 'boo' or whatever couples say is something that really does cheer me up and has me kicking my legs.

It's not anything too serious but I still really just like saying that I have a loved one in the romantic sense of the word, and it's not just for bragging rights, he's fun to talk to and just spend time with.

We still haven't reached the stage of 'being comfortable with silence' and that's bad because I totally fuckin' SUCK at conversations and saying stuff without blabbing on for too long, but so far it's doing great.

I really think this is just good, and even if I believe that I am not the best for a relationship at my current state, I still deserve the right to be loved, even if it doesn't work out.

Because fuck all that "oh, im not ready for this at the moment" bullshit.

You only live once, make the most of it, and do whatever you want, and even if I barely know myself and who I'll turn out to be in the future, I should still be loved as the genderless morally ambigious blob that I always have been.

So fuck it, take risks, do stuff that you're not ready for, experiment and try out new things!

I have a close one now and even if it doesn't turn out alright, or if we grow distant, I'll have the memories from the start of it all and I will be able to smile at them.

Of course, I'm not hoping for this to end, but I still don't have my thoughts and views on stuff that would naturally happen down the line in a relationship, but fuck it, we get there when we get there.

So yeah, AG on a really good note sending you all off.

Chase the petals of the rose and live proud from the scars you get by the thorns.

Live and Love, like I love all of you, (not in the same level as him, duh.) and stand proud of what you'll become.

As always, this was AG, wishing you all a happy day, week, month, year, or life.

See you later.

Yours for god knows how long, aghadbeenhere.

-aghadbeenhere, 2024

[hickeysgodcomplex]

that’s such a good way of putting it! i like a few bmth songs but i don’t know that many. i’ve dabbled into emo music and i think fob and bmth fit under emo??? but i’m not sure 100%. definitely get the interest in them, i should listen to more honestly but it’s Not The Right Time yet haha. it will happen sooner or later! just not now :’]

REAL!!!! i fucking have to have lyrics the first time i listen to a song or else i may as well not listen to it. i need to know the very essence of the song in every form or i’m not satisfied. lyricism is one of my favorite things, probably because i love words in general, but GOD. i love songs and concepts and fitting that into groovy lil tunes. it’s the best. AND YES, oh my god. you get it. i fucking love chateau (feel alright) because at a certain point in the song, you can hear joe’s mouth sounds and i’m so fucking obsessed with it. it’s also just one of my favorite djo songs in general. it’s ethereal to me. it’s a favorite song of all time of mine, as well as end of beginning. i did the math of playing a certain part of that song as the new year rolled in, if that explains any at all how much i adore end of beginning. music and me are one, as are you and music. i’m so happy you understand. it’s made me overjoyed and no less of it

:( that’s so kind. i hope you’re proud of yourself, because i am <3 i am so glad that you’re here, thank you for being here. i’m sure little you is so so so proud of you and happy to be where you are now 🫶

WOAH. that food looks so delicious, holy shit. looks like food from an actual recipe website or something. broccoli is so good by the way. i had this broccoli bake recently that was like mac and cheese but was broccoli instead of macaroni and it was incredible! i hope you can have more nice food soon, to treat yourself and such <3333

-🦇 (MWAH, you’re so nice to talk to. i felt like this was worth adding. talking to you makes stuff feel less lonely, if that’s not too parasocial to say. you’re such a cozy person and you have incredible vibes. thank you for existing in this space. you make it a lot brighter just by being you)

I think technically bmth is like screamcore stuff but they aren't as screamy now thankfully cuz i cant do the constant screams. Im like baby you're hurting both us with all this yelling. 🤣🤣🤣 but yeah i would think like emo punky and fob is like poppunk i think. I just ADORE their lead singer and his voice and ugh i can try and rec you a few songs if you ever want! Whenever the time hits!!!

(Gonna pop this under a readmore cuz they keep getting long!!! 🤣🤣🤣)

Ooohh yessssss Chateau is SUCH a dreamy song!!!! Its not my fave fave one but it does get stuck in my head A LOT. and yesss end of beginning is amazing too!!! I think Mutual Future (repeat) is one of my very faves. I just love how slow it is and then the like, way he almost chants the bit later on. Like he's full of so much need. Like... gosh. There's also a line in Personal Lies that literally makes my head go all fuzzy every time i hear it. Cuz, and hopefully not too tmi here, but I'm a little subby gremlin and he uses his condescending voice when he says "you need attention. Well baby there's the line" and i just.... go a little feral. Every time. Getting shivers now just thinkin about it. But like... that happens with me and music alllll the time!!!! And i LOVE that you timed it!!! Thats amazing!!! Sometimes you just need to hear the right thing to start the year right!!!!

And i am! Very proud of myself. I still have bad days here and there. But they never feel like i can't get past it anymore. So thats really nice. I just sort of embraced the small joys and it really just makes things brighter!

And awwww thank youuuuuu!!!! I love cooking so much!!!! I would share my food if i could!!!

YOU ARE SO SWEET OH MY GOSH! not parasocial too much i don't think. Most of my friends are online people who live in my phone ans i have so much love for them!!! BUT IM GENUINELY SO GLAD MY VIBES ARE GOOD AND COZY YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME CRYYYYY!!!!

[apollogivesmevisions]

theres this game i played recently -- didnt finish it yet -- called 'Umurangi Generation'. Not to spoil anything but it had a very strong message for me, simply put. amongst other things, it had this weird feeling that I couldn't quite name when I first played it. Recently though, with... many things happening in the world and a few in my personal life as well, I think I got ahold of it a bit better

It feels like there's no real reason to keep going. Why study, or grow, or work for a better life, if I'll end up under tyrannical capitalism, in a corrupt world that's slowly drowning, with death threats for me specifically, as a {insert minority}?

Umurangi Generation isn't depressive, and it has its own message and things to say, so I won't talk in its place because I probably wouldn't be able to put it into words without misunderstanding it. If you have a few hours of free time though, it's free on itch.io i think. It's maori too, and is just. beautiful. you can take pictures of your friends in it

For a while I was in that weird, drowning like feeling, where you feel the air leaving your body, but feel so alien to yourself that there's no more drive to even struggle in the waters. metaphorically

last week though, a friend that I rarely talk to invited me to this music hall thing--never had seen one before, had no idea what to expect. what i discovered was an incredibly powerful, funny, and full of life group of queer artists. i felt a bit ashamed to have even been so depressive, and even worse, pessimistic about myself and the world

there was this actor, who did a monologue. He had a shirt with "PD" written on it (that means something like faggot, in french). he said it was the first time he was turning 31. well, he thought at least. because surely, he must've been 31 before, and even more, but there had been so much people to erase anything that would've kept track of how old he was, it felt like he only started all over again. and he said yeah, it was normal there was more of him, of us, now, because we kept living, and we were going to keep living.

(to be clear--thats a queer metaphor for the numerous times in history where we've been killed, erased, etc)

it kind of stuck with me. my friend told me i was crying when he said those things. i don't remember doing so

Recently it's felt like I can't even sleep enough to rest my eyes and cry

But his words stuck with me, because, yeah. I'm still here, and we're still here, and there's so much that's been lost, but we know what we saved. It's all been burned before and we're still here.

And I don't know. i don't know where I'll be in five years or more, i know I'll still have suicidal thoughts, at least for a while, and I don't know what'll happen with the world, the people that are drowning and those that are being murdered, and the rest of the world that seems so uncaring.

But like, I know there's still people now. There's still people to tell the stories of so many that are dead, and there's still openly queer folk dancing and giving joy to other people in music halls, and there's still things to fight for, and be proud of. because it's not done, it's not finished, and there's still so much to fight for

I don't know

There was also this artist (named THÉA on music platforms, she's great) who sang some stuff which really moved me. one of her songs is named "Ennui" (Boredom) and it says "We don't have any goal, or real place, no big war, or great depression. Our big war is spiritual. Our great depression, it's our lives."

(im pretty sure thats a quote from somewhere else. unsure though)

And yeah, it feels like there's nothing more to believe in. And THÉA isn't a depressive artist to listen to, listen to the lyrics in "Juste Amis" (Just friends)

But there's this weird dread i see in people, i guess born after 2000, and in myself, that engulfs you whole and yet feels so alien. Umurangi Generation talked about it. in its end game credits is written "Dedicated to Umurangi Generation. The last generation that has to see the world die."

Often now, it feels like that. Born too late, in a dying world that can't stop nervously convulsing like a dead fish.

I don't know. If there was nothing else, I wouldn't be here. I know there's still love in this world, and it'll still keep going when I'm gone, and the clouds can make me cry because of how the sun bounces off of them, and I have friends that are lovely, and there's passionate and powerful people who are alive, now, and are doing something, and i collect poetry about lesbians and about the beauty of gendered languages and about queer people in my phone

and yet, I can't finish this on a happy or hopeful note. I don't know how to. I wish I could, but when I try to summon my passion, it's full of rage rather than love. But I want to love this world. I want to believe I can have a life in it. I want to believe I can make a change and help people

i don't know

[rarepairnation]

for the ao3 wrapped!! 1, 6, 28! (also you are not alone in believing you can finish one more thing. i am also doing that :P)

happy (newly i guess, for u!) new year anna!!! waving at u NOT from the google doc! we did it! we finished the one more thing! [ao3 wrapped]

1. How many words have you written this year?

nearly 14k (13,924 to be exact) published and at least 6-7k more of wips! tragically my least prolific year since uhhhhhhhh a long time. 2017? but thats ok it was a hard year all that matters is that i survived<3 im proud of myself for what i did bc im in that kinda moment where im relearning how to write and reengaging the creative part of my brain. and next year will be better!! i have a lot of plans and a wip list as long as a cvs receipt<33

6. Favorite title you used

this one is actually your body drowning in gravity! i havent reread it in a long long while (aside: wow i was a totally different person when i wrote that (i published it jan 3)) bc my brain has temporarily been caught by other things. but it was an idea that i'd been turning over in my head for over a year at the time when i wrote it and i think i saw the richard siken poem that the title is from (it's "the dislocated room" btw) on my dash in the middle of the writing process and it was like. Perfect. like i choose all my titles very carefully but this one really knocks it out of the park. when the fic is literally about tanner thinking mallory is the one that's fallen from the top of the cns building at the end of spectre and not knowing until the body hits the ground.

28. Favorite work you wrote this year?

OUGHHH this is hard. Ough. ok i DO think it's just so long as this thing's loaded. im chronically an "i wrote this for me but you can read it if you want" guy bc i have rarepair disease. if i want to read it i have to be the one to write it. but this fic was really an exercise in like. getting weird with it. remembering that u cannot judge ur creation by any possible bad faith interpretation of it. letting myself write the kind of wildly unhinged horny possessive devotion that eats the inside of my brain but ive never been able to put on the page bc of the Fear of like ohhh that would be sooo bad in real life. dude theyre. not real. idk im not good at that sort of thing the panopticon inside my mind is sometimes kind of crazy. but like yeah actually they do think the power dynamic is hot. yeah nick made jasper fake betraying him obviously here is this situation where jasper comes back to nick after his faked death and both of them are pretending not to know the betrayal wasn't real. its just roleplay 2 them. sorry to quote a line in this already extremely long answer but like "The only thing he wants to keep is right here at his side and hasn’t that been the point of all of this, the knife to his throat and the blood in his kiss and the slow simmer of barely leashed desire. Jasper has come to him like this, the traitor slinking his guilty way home, to show Nick the lengths to which he would go for him. To which he has always gone for him, giving up everything to play Nick’s triple agent, just what the Director ordered." is literally the thesis statement of the whole thing. Anyway

also its the kind of fic where every line is trying to be The Line which...is a quirk of my writing style that comes out every now and then that im usually (for good reason tbh) always trying to cut back on. but this...Needed It. sometimes the prose DOES need to be purple. and i had fun. it was really fun dude lol i had a great time

[itsstraykids]

hello hello! i had the absolute fuckall busy 2days, hope u didnt mind the accidental ghosting. i kept wanting to reply but i was feeling too tired to do it lmao. hello! hope ur doing well! i absolutely love the word coinkydink btw, im stealing it thank u. the fact!!!!!!!! that u do music production!!!!!!!! so cool!!!! consider me amazed yayy. ive always been unhealthily obsessed with chan's vocals, seeing him sing, esp with as much love and enjoyment/passion as he does is chills inducing to me. and yeah!!! his skills are so impressive, esp 3racha with rockstar album i very much agree!! i still cant pick a favorite song, and its funny bcs that's seldom the case no matter how much i love the whole album. cover me was played a lot tho (i was soo proud of hyunjin!!) and their vocalss yess!! seungmin han i.n leeknow and then ofc chan felix hyunjin changbin, they all did such good jobs, and their voice shined a notch brighter yes!! (mildly obsessed everytime changbin sings btw i am a sucker for it) their vocal heavy songs have always been some of my beloved!!!! never-ending story that i never get enough of, levanter and in christmas evel the way 24-25 was my immediate favorite! skz and ballads is smth mind-scratchingly wonderful, like always. what are some of your other favorite kpop groups?? what genres do u like as well, like i really love and find myself obsessed with k-indie, if we are talking korean language songs? what kind of songs do u like and listen to!! just wanted to know more abt u as well!! esp now that ik u produce too!! and just wanted to say ur art!!!! its so amazing and gorgeous!! so talented!!

^^apologies if i sound mildly incoherent (ik i do) its so damn cold outside both my face and brain have made it a mission to resemble chunks of ice cream so im!! thinking in circles p ls excuse. hope u have a good day an amazing week and great end of year and holidays!!

no worries at ALL dude the holidays are crazy, i really like this secret santa project but there’s so much else going on it’s also a lot 😅 yes! i’m stoked you liked rockstar. i thought it was so good, i was really in love with the songs/choreo/vibes and the members all seemed so happy! OMG YES Changbin’s voice is so good…why doesn’t he sing more it’s crazy…i have rewatched their conodoll episode a couple times because all their voices are just wonderful to listen to

i like 24-25 too! and that music video is just too sweet, it gave me cavities lmao. my fave kpop groups are skz, txt, and my OG (and forever) kpop band is shinee! i’ve been getting into xdinary heroes too. it seemed like everyone released amazing EPs this october-november, i was living for it. good music was raining down left and right.

i like so many genres in all languages! rock, punk, electronic, indie—i used to listen to a lot of k-indie (nell, the black skirts, the koxx, clazziquai) but now i don’t really know any more recent bands. i’d love to hear what your favorite songs/bands are!! i’m in a finding-new-music phase right now. i just found out about this new zealand band called the beths, their album “expert in a dying field” is a lyrical masterpiece.

thank you for your sweet compliments!! haha i’m trying to get better at portraits…oof, sorry it’s so cold where you are! bundle up and i hope you get some sun soon!! i’m in california so it’s actually really nice weather. exactly like the rest of the year. i do miss having seasons. but it’s also nice to go to the beach and not freeze lmao

best of luck in the final week before the holidays!! gonna be a crazy one i think, i have to bake stuff until my oven gives up and cries