#fame and partners

[bloomeuphoria]

Knotted Elm Forest

Dress: Atlas Dress by FAME AND PARTNERS (Winter 2016) [$299]

Shoes: Ema by Rachel Zoe (Winter 2016) [$248]

Earrings: Drop Earrings by Suzanna Dai (Winter 2016) [$220]

Bracelet: Rhodium Crystal by Rodrigo Otazu (Winter 2016) [$160]

Total Look Cost: $927

#covetfashion #covet fashion #fameandpartners #fame and partners #rachelzoe #rachel zoe #suzannadai #suzanna dai #rodrigootazu #rodrigo otazu #fashion #winter2016 #dressup #dress up

[tvshowcloset]

Who: Maia Reficco as Noa Olivar What: Fame and Partners The Elham Dress - $188.30 Where: PLL: Original Sin 1x02 “Chapter Two: The Spirit Queen"

Worn with: Sergio Rossi sandals

#pll #pll reboot #pretty little liars #pretty little liars original sin #pll original sin #pretty little liars fashion #fame and partners #fame & partners #dresses #pll original sin 1x02 #pll original sin season 1

[fashionseenontvblog]

Whistles Brown Clara Funnel-Neck Wool-Blend Coat - $205

Fame and Partners The Nola Satin Dress  Rose Gold - $109.99

Sam Edelman Hazel Pointed-Toe Heels Beige - $150

Chloé Vitto 60MM Square Sunglasses - $505

#rw #crystal k. m. #fame and Partners #whistles

[goodmiffy]

i literally despise men so fucking much

#the way she’s literally so pretty too jfc !!! #men honestly desire wealth and fame so they can BUY a model girlfriend bc they literally see women as commodities #not partners #it’s exactly on par to buying the newest sportscar or mega yacht

[modaonlinemagazalari]

https://www.modaonlinemagazalari.com/moda-markas/fame-and-partners/

Fame And Partners

#Fame And Partners #Markalar #Moda #Moda markaları #Tasarımcı ürünleri

[thebiscuitlabryinth]

Perhaps, if he had bothered to ask for a second opinion, Shadow Milk Cookie would have been told he shouldn't be doing this. Luckily, he hadn't, so he manages to confidently prepare the magic circle with very little concern towards the appropriateness of his own actions.

He steps back to look over it once more, checking for any errors, before finally setting the chalk down. Brushing off the dust from his hands, Shadow Milk admires his handiwork in the light of the crescent moon, his dough crawling with accumulated anticipation.

He noticed it a long time ago, the suffocating blanket of churning emotion that often drapes itself over him, heavy and dark. It isn't his own emotion, he realised that quickly, because it weighs over him instead of burrowing into his chest, and nothing happened to him personally to prompt such tumultuous feelings. This realisation was soon followed by another – namely, that some sort of external being must be the cause, and it must be following him, if its presence is plaguing him so strongly. It comes and it goes, but it always returns, and he is finally going to find out what it is.

So Shadow Milk is looking forward to this. It is his specialty as the holder of the Light of Truth, after all, to reveal unknowns, and this unknown has long become personal.

With the magic circle ready and the moon in the sky, there is no reason for him to wait any longer, so he doesn't. He steps carefully into the circle, making sure not to disturb the lines as he makes his way to the middle, and with a sweep of his robes, he settles down into a sitting position.

This spell is a difficult one because it was found incomplete, the rest of it either lost to time or unfinished. It had taken quite a lot of reworking to finalise something feasible, in between all his other duties. There is also the added caveat of it being a Black Magic spell, but Shadow Milk had found a compromise for that, which is precisely why he chose to perform it under the smiling crescent, mere days away from the new moon, instead of the full moon.

Regardless of the effort required, if everything went well, this spell should allow him to make contact with the being that had been following him, whatever it may be. More specifically, it should open a mental connection, allowing them to have a conversation even if this being was something incapable of speech.

That alone was worth all this effort. After all, Shadow Milk had plenty of questions to ask it.

He plants his hands on the ground, drawing power from the moon tentatively like unspooling a thread. It starts to spill in quicker, wilder, and he makes sure to remain calm as it seems to buzz and writhe through him, focusing on redirecting it into the magic circle. It begins to glow a cold white, and Shadow Milk feels his dough prickling like it is being watched, that familiar presence growing heavier around him like a blanket. He bites down on his excited smile.

Don't worry. Just a little bit more, and we'll finally meet.

Shadow Milk's hands twitch with the force of the magic coursing through him, and he watches out of the corner of his eye as the shadows in the room seem to congeal, growing thicker and pooling out of their hiding spots. They eat away at the magic circle, closing in on Shadow Milk swiftly, and he welcomes them as they eagerly swallow the circle, the floor, the walls, the room, everything.

What happens next is difficult to describe. He doesn't feel the ground fall out from under him, he just realises it is no longer there. It is so dark that it makes no difference if his eyes are open or closed, and they don't seem to adjust no matter how many times he blinks. It only makes the surrounding darkness begin to squirm in strange patterns, as if alive. He suddenly feels strange and cold.

But most importantly, he feels like he is submerged in those restless emotions, his every move weighted like he is underwater. They nearly choke him, stronger than he has ever felt before, and delight bursts in his chest in jarring contrast, thrilled that the spell seems to have worked.

"Hello?" He calls out, his voice echoing in a way that makes his ears ring. For a moment that feels like forever, there is nothing but a deafening silence around to greet him.

And then, he is attacked with blinding light.

Shadow Milk rears back as much as he can manage, instinctively shutting his eyes at the assault, and raises a hand to shield them when he immediately tries to open them again, curious of the source. Squinting past the shade of his palm, he finds dozens of white suns glaring down at him, their light doing nothing to penetrate the overwhelming black of the void.

"How are you here?" A voice calls back, hoarse and whispery and frantic, as if it had never been used before, and Shadow Milk's breath catches.

Upon closer inspection, the suns surrounding him are actually the pupils of a dozen huge eyes, bearing down on him with wide-eyed focus from all sides. Shadow Milk soaks in the attention, joy bubbling nauseatingly in his stomach like soda, his mind running so fast that his thoughts become incomprehensible.

"Who are you?" He asks, the question almost bursting right out of his chest with how suddenly it comes. He can't quite look at the eyes directly, with how blindingly bright they are, but he does his best to hedge in quick glances.

There isn't a response, not from the voice or the eyes, but that doesn't deter him. Now Shadow Milk has unshakeable proof that the being is here, capable of conversation, he doesn't need any more encouragement to keep going.

"I'm Shadow Milk Cookie, though you must know that already." He introduces himself with a polite nod of his head, somewhat entertained by the thought of his eldritch companion being shy. When that doesn't garner any meaningful result, he tacks on, lightheartedly, "Isn't it a bit rude to not introduce yourself back?"

The eyes blink at him, the syncopated movement rippling through the nothingness.

"...There is nothing to introduce." The voice replies reluctantly, though it sounds more stable than before, slightly stronger as it curls around him. "I don't have a name anymore."

"You must have a name," Shadow Milk urges with a creeping smile, "or at least something I can call you."

There is another stretch of silence, long enough that Shadow Milk is forced to reconsider his approach, before it is graciously broken by his companion, who must have come to some kind of conclusion.

"You can call me the Beast of Deceit, if you must call me at all." The Beast offers, and if Shadow Milk's attention hadn't already been fully devoted to it, that certainly would have done the trick. "That is all anyone calls me now."

"The Beast of Deceit." Shadow Milk repeats the syllables carefully, tasting them as he brings a hand up to the warm pulse of his Soul Jam. Something clicks pleasantly in his mind, like a perfect solution to an equation that has been bothering him. "Then you're almost like my other half, aren't you? Since Truth and Deceit are direct opposites." The thought is nice enough, he supposes, but more than that, it is intriguing. "Is that why you've been watching me?"

This must be the wrong thing to ask, because the Beast skates past his question entirely, eyes squinting as if pained. "You shouldn't be here."

"And yet, here I am. It took quite a lot of work for me to get here too, so you'll understand that I'm not in a hurry to leave." Shadow Milk explains amicably, hoping that if he was clear with his intentions, the Beast might entertain a more fruitful conversation. He pauses, looking around at the surrounding infinity. "Where is here, anyway?"

"Nowhere you would want to be." The Beast says cryptically, its voice slowly moving, collecting somewhere in front of him. It's a bit disorienting.

"...You aren't very good at holding a conversation, are you?" Shadow Milk sighs, not unkindly but certainly with growing frustration. Still, he has considered this possibility before, of his unknown companion being uncooperative, so he tries again. "Isn't it unfair for you to not answer any of my questions, after following me around for so long? I think I deserve an explanation, at least."

"I have no explanation to give." The Beast's tone is flat. It's… a disappointing response, frankly, but Shadow Milk smiles through it.

"But you can't deny that you are the one who has been following me." He counters, his voice light and pleasant so it doesn't come across too heavily as an accusation. "Your emotions are very palpable, so your presence isn't subtle. There is no mistaking it."

The coiling thickness of those emotions seem to shift around Shadow Milk now, almost self-consciously, but they do not lighten. Such strong negative feelings - he is fascinated by them, the researcher in him wanting to know what exactly could cause them.

The Beast sighs as if it is carrying the weight of the world on its shoulders, and the sound finally settles in front of him entirely as some of the eyes slide closed. The clashing light and dark begins to morph before him, a faint silhouette forming and rising out of the nothingness.

Shadow Milk watches, enraptured, as the shape of a Cookie emerges, dripping with the void itself. He looks battered, wrapped in dishevelled black robes with equally dishevelled dull hair. It is covered by a dark hat shaped like a crown, with what must be his Soul Jam set in the middle, its blue the only splash of colour to be seen. His eyes are covered in a thick black blindfold, and he holds a staff protectively in front of himself with both hands, eerily similar in style to the one Shadow Milk left outside of the magic circle, if not for the vertically oriented eye.

All in all, he does not look intimidating. If anything, he looks like a chess piece.

"I apologise for that, then. I wasn't aware my presence would disturb you so much." The Beast mutters, as if he would prefer not to be speaking, his form not quite fully formed. "But you shouldn't be here. Please leave."

"You don't look like much of a beast to me." Shadow Milk comments warmly, extending the friendly compliment in the hopes of distracting the Beast from his complete lack of intention to leave. Even so, his words are genuine. "That title doesn't fit you at all."

The Beast frowns, ducking his head lower. "Don't act so familiar with me. I am called the Beast of Deceit for a reason." He hisses, but it holds no malice, only tiredness. Then, after a beat, he repeats, firmer than before. "Please leave."

The title really doesn't suit him, though. Shadow Milk ponders this for a moment, before mentally renaming him as the King instead. A poor excuse for a king, perhaps, but that still felt far more appropriate than a beast.

"...Will you really not tell me anything?" Shadow Milk asks finally, growing more subdued. "You must know, since you have been following me, that I have worked hard to be able to contact you like this."

"I have nothing to tell, I have already told you that." The King reminds him quietly, unimpressed, turning his head away. "I apologise for your wasted time, but it was unnecessary to begin with." Then, after a beat, he repeats, an attempt at a lacklustre command. "Please leave."

Shadow Milk hums under his breath, pondering this too. This isn't going exactly how he had hoped, that is true, but to call his time wasted is completely incorrect. On the contrary, all this encounter has done is make his curiosity peak, even more invested in this mystery than he was before.

Maybe it was for the best that the King refused to tell him anything. Thinking about it now, wouldn't that have been too simple? It is more fun to unravel some things himself, and Shadow Milk is certainly capable of uncovering the truth behind this odd apparition.

It is his virtue, after all.

"...Alright." Shadow Milk nods, taking one last lingering look at the King, before closing his eyes. "If you insist, I'll leave."

The King doesn't reply. That's fine. Shadow Milk focuses on searching himself internally for the tether to his physical body, for the anchor that is the magic circle. Since this is his first time casting this spell, and the way the magic twists is unfamiliar, it admittedly takes him a moment to get a hold of it, but he does.

Concentrating on that anchor, he calls himself back to his body.

Much like leaving, returning is just as hard to describe. There is no jolt, or impact. Everything simply returns – his senses, the floor beneath him, the sound of the wind outside the window – from one moment to the next. He shudders as he gets reacquainted with his body, or rather, his body gets reacquainted with him.

The chaos of those negative emotions are awfully thick in the air, squeezing around him tightly like they hope to crumble him. Shadow Milk relaxes into it, releasing his grip on the flow of magic and the spell itself, and opens his eyes.

There, in front of him, the King is suspended in the air above the outer edge of the circle, unmoving. His form flickers, translucent and blurring at the edges. Slowly, unnervingly slowly like he doesn't know how to use it properly, he turns his head.

"...What is this?" The King whispers, the words almost dissolving into the ambient noise, his grip on his staff visibly tightening.

"The spell I used to make contact with you forged a connection between us." Shadow Milk says patiently, making sure his expression is open and welcoming, the same one he uses when introducing himself to new students. "If my presence could be projected to wherever we were previously, then naturally your presence can be projected here too. It's only fair, since you were watching me anyway, weren't you?"

Shadow Milk rises to his feet, brushing dust off his robes with both hands. The King says nothing, but he can practically feel the frown directed at him.

"I understand if you don't want to tell me anything. That's okay!" Shadow Milk assures, lifting his gaze back to that blindfold, that staff, that Soul Jam, near identical to his own. His curiosity burns.

"You don't have to tell me," he smiles like a promise, "I'll find out for myself."

#i had a lot of fun writing this!! i love writing varying flavours of the most dysfunctional dynamics ever witnessed #special thanks to umbra of umbralvessel fame for enduring my mad ramblings on this au #my partner in crime and no1 enabler fr <3 #shadow milk cookie #pure vanilla cookie #shadowvanilla #pureshadow #vanilla milkshake #swap au #the biscuit library

[nightgoodomens]

Being jobless and talentless really doesn’t give you a right to say “who tf is Michael Sheen” about the famous and hard working man who supports you. The one thing AL could have avoided copying from GT was humiliation and undermining and “keeping him humble” but guess not. I tried to keep open mindness regarding both females for a LONG time but I am so done. Awful people.

#I just can’t #I tried but I can’t #NightGoodOmens talks PR #they’re so pathetic please spare me #nobodies riding on their partners fame and trying to act like they’re the top bitches #Jesus fucking Christ 😭😭😭😭 #there’s so much second hand embarrassment I can’t cope with #they hate feminism so much

[omegamoo]

a guy I almost dated didn’t know what the omegaverse so I explained to him and its hard to explain so it was so awkward. and then we took an omegaverse role test and when I got the option of omega, he mocked me. also he got alpha :(

hey anon this is Not an omegaverse confession blog. i’m aware the name is misleading

#asks #anonymous #ANON SPILLED A STORY ONLY TO FIND OUT IM A MCYT + HS BLOG #if this is one of my mutuals well. you have put together a convincing story #ICANT TELL IF THIS IS GENUINE LIKE. r u confessing ur into omegaverse with ur not-partner? #or are you just like giggling about it #moo hall of fame

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Daughter of the House of Dreams: A Fragment

Author's Note: This is the opening to a long-abandoned "Sleeping Beauty" retelling that I no longer plan to write, but I still like it as a piece of prose, and it sparked my enduring interest in second-person narration, so it feels relevant, and why should long-dead authors be the only ones who get to have their unfinished fragments published?

If you ever travel to Monetta City, be sure to visit Faraway Lane. Walk past the glittering new shops, and the shoppers in their bright silk dresses and top hats, and you'll find a cozy stone shop at the end of the street. This shop isn't grand and mighty like the other shops. It won't sniff and turn you away if your clothes aren't the latest fashion. It's a grandmotherly old shop that shakes its head at the prancing and preening of the younger shops, and invites you in instead. It holds no wares in its windows; it hardly has windows at all. But it has a warm and wide wooden door, with a shingle hanging above—Alessia Day, maker of dreams.

Don't ponder the sign's message too long—it means exactly what it says. Just slip inside, shut the door behind you, and look. Don't breathe too deeply, unless you want a week of crazy dreams, but allow yourself one gasp of astonishment. You won't be able to stop yourself. No living person has failed to feel awe toward the rows and rows of shelves, longer than streets and taller than palaces, filled to bursting with glass bottles in such bright colors that the dresses in the other shops' windows would weep in envy. Some bottles are the size of thumbnails. Most fit comfortably in the palm. Some are as large as breadboxes or steamer trunks or carriage horses, but the shelves manage to fit them all. And each bottle is filled to the brim with dreams.

If you don't understand, ask Alessia Day. You'll find her at a counter half a mile from the door, polishing bottles and humming a song you've heard but can't remember. She's an old woman now, and proud of it, but squint your eyes and start to daydream, and you'll see her as I remember her—a willow-wand girl with shining brown hair and eyes that sparkle with half-formed jokes.

Tell this girl how pretty she is (she'll laugh and call you crazy) and ask about her dreams. She'll tell you of her stock and sell you any dream you ask for—daydreams and pipe dreams, dreams of love, dreams of adventure, dreams of loved ones lost and loved ones found and people you've never met but wish you had. She'll show you dreams of lush and perfect islands, dreams where fishes fly through the air, and dreams where people swim the seas with fishes' tails. She'll pull down dreams that last a second but linger a lifetime, dreams that fill a month of stormy nights, dreams that fade on waking and dreams that drown out memories. If you let her, she'll talk of dreams until you drift off, and she'll bottle up your dream while you doze.

But if you're smart (I know you are) you'll step to the counter with a clear glass bottle, empty of everything but air, and ask for her story instead. She'd distill it in a dream for you, and be glad to do it—I once saw her whip it up in half a minute, and I'll bet she's even faster now. Buy the dream, but don't drink it right away. You won't be ready for it. Linger in the shop a while. Hear the story first from Alessia Day's lips, in that voice of hers that's sweeter than singing.

You won't believe half of it, but when you stagger from the shop and wander the empty, starlit streets, you'll ponder over passages until you stumble into bed at sunrise. And when you wake, the world will be different—you'll see tiny footprints on the windowsills, know things about the shadows on the walls, tip your hat to creatures in the corner of your eye, and realize there is another color no one else can see. You'll laugh and call it your imagination, but every second Tuesday, you'll start to wonder if the old woman was right, if the things she told you were true.

If you drink the dream she made, you'll know. I'll understand if you don't—some things are easier not to know. But if you do, and dream through her story, come to my house and ring the bell. My man will let you in—he'll know you by the wonder on your face. He'll bring you to my study, set you in my oldest, softest chair, and get us both settled with a steaming pot of tea. Then, once you've finished babbling, I'll close my eyes and tell you my part in the tale.

#the bookshelf progresses #i had completely forgotten the story that this was supposed to be the prologue to #then over the weekend i found the plot summary again #it was actually pretty cool #it was about this girl whose family served as the most prestigious dream-makers in the nation #because they provide dreams to the famed cursed and sleeping princess #and then she discovers that the princess could have been woken a bunch of times over the century #but her family prevented it because they didn't want to lose their cash cow #and then of course she has to find a way to break the curse #i don't know why i thought having this random dude as narrator was the way to go #(unless the story morphed a lot between initial idea and whatever story i intended to write with this prologue) #he was probably in the prince role #and would marry the princess while remaining friends with alessia #beyond that i have no clue what i was going for #(also i don't think i would do the 'he teams up with this girl and marries someone else' plot if i did it today #because i hate marian halcombe situations where the hero develops a strong dynamic with his adventure partner #only to for some inexplicable reason marry someone pretty and boring) #anyway today's a day where i want to write and don't really have time to #so i'm just posting this instead

[bellamysgriffin]

this is in no way in defense of ariana grande’s ex husband or whatever bc idk anything but between this and joe alwyn, everyone acts like the only reason fame could interfere in a relationship is if the guys masculinity is too fragile to handle someone being more important than them. like that could be true but like having to take security everywhere you go, even though it is necessary, is a very big demand and definitely changes the kind of life that you live

like, let’s not pretend that being the significant partner of a very famous person doesn’t require you to live a certain kind of life that might not work for somebody.

#idk i just read that things changed post quarantine when #their lifestyle was affected by her fame #and then i saw like a hundred tweets comparing him to joe and mocking them both #and yeah MAYBE they felt threatened #but you might want to live a more private normal life and it can be difficult to reconcile that #with a partner who is in a different places and is choosing a different lifestyle than you #dana rants

[mydaroga]

Me and John, we'd known each other for a long time. Along with George and Ringo, we were best mates. And we looked into each other's eyes, the eye contact thing we used to do, which is fairly mind-boggling. You dissolve into each other. But that's what we did, round about that time, that's what we did a lot. And it was amazing. You're looking into each other's eyes and you would want to look away, but you wouldn't, and you could see yourself in the other person. It was a very freaky experience and I was totally blown away.

There's something disturbing about it. You ask yourself, 'How do you come back from it? How do you then lead a normal life after that?' And the answer is, you don't. After that you've got to get trepanned or you've got to meditate for the rest of your life. You've got to make a decision which way you're going to go.

I would walk out into the garden - 'Oh no, I've got to go back in.' It was very tiring, walking made me very tired, wasted me, always wasted me. But 'I've got to do it, for my well-being.' In the meantime John had been sitting around very enigmatically and I had a big vision of him as a king, the absolute Emperor of Eternity. It was a good trip. It was great but I wanted to go to bed after a while.

I'd just had enough after about four or five hours. John was quite amazed that it had struck me in that way. John said, 'Go to bed? You won't sleep!' 'I know that, I've still got to go to bed.' I thought, now that's enough fun and partying, now ... It's like with drink. That's enough. That was a lot of fun, now I gotta go and sleep this off. But of course you don't just sleep off an acid trip so I went to bed and hallucinated a lot in bed. I remember Mal coming up and checking that I was all right. 'Yeah, I think so.' I mean, I could feel every inch of the house, and John seemed like some sort of emperor in control of it all. It was quite strange. Of course he was just sitting there, very inscrutably.

Paul McCartney, Many Years From Now

#including this despite its fame #because in the past I've been unable to find the full quote easily #i think it's interesting because people make a big deal of the Emperor of Eternity thing for good reason #but i think sometimes what gets lost is how disturbing it also is #i was in a class once where we had to gaze into the eyes of a partner for like ten minutes at the start of every session #it was awful and i wasn't even on drugs #ANYWAY #the ambivalent way Paul talks about acid is interesting to me #paul mccartney #many years from now #john lennon #kris reads myfn #kris talks a lot

[bloomeuphoria]

Best of 2016 No. 9 - Queen Nefertiti

Dress: Horus Dress by FAME AND PARTNERS (Winter 2016) [$329]

Shoes: Kellyn Studded Sandal by Louise Et Cie (Winter 2016) [$149]

Earrings: Devi Diva Pearl Hoops by Isharya (Winter 2016) [$128]

Ring: Lau Ring by Lionette NY (Winter 2016) [$135]

Total Look Cost: $741

(Ignore glitched hat prop.)

#covetfashion #covet fashion #fameandpartners #fame and partners #louiseetcie #louise et cie #isharya #lionetteny #lionette ny #fashion #winter2016 #dressup #dress up

[polisena-art]

I thought of an AU like this: Donald is a police officer greatly despised by his boss. Panchito is a prisoner who knows a lot about a certain person with green feathers. Zé is a fugitive with robbery and "murder" skills. Donald needs Panchi's help to capture José, accused of killing someone important. Panchito refuses, but ends up accepting the reward that would be his freedom from prison. José would have to flee from both of them and at the same time find a way to prove that he didn't kill the bourgeois, because, yes, a criminal, never a murderer. Then there's a big roll and they end up on the same side, curiously on the opposite side of the police. Thus, the three gay caballeros need to find the real culprit, as this would improve the lives of each of them.

This is COOL!! I like how in this AU they each come from different perspectives and each would have their own goals until it clicks that they'd work way better TOGETHER.

NOW, idk if you're implying that Panchito knows a lot about José because they both used to work together? Maybe until they get ambushed and caught red handed, Panchito ends up being captured and José is the one that manages to get away. Which could lead to a lot of resentment, just saying...

I think Panchito being the one more desperate about getting his freedom back would not want to hear José's pleas of being innocent of killing some big shot. But Donald would be the more level headed one in this situation and act like a meddling force between the two until they finally act like a team.

#I like both approaches of Panchito knowing a lot abt zé because they were partners in crime or maybe he just knows a lot because #he was also inserted in the crime world and is aware of josé's fame and modus operandi #ask #anonymous #text post

[77ngiez]

stalker sanya is canon btw bcs i said so

#yeah watch out for beletsky and kazarina.. beletsky has a lot of talent and kazarina has a lot of #connections.... #send post #77ngiez.txt #hir and yura both become stalkers as adults & theyre both very damn good at it #they typically work together #ppl find them kind of scary theyre like and so whenever they come into contact with stalkers that they havent met the other stalkers r like #actually sooooo chill. unless u piss one or both of them off. then there will be hell 2 pay #sanya and yura r in a super cool unlabeled aro4aro bpd4bpd relationship btw and they dont rlly care what other ppl think so there r ppl out #there convinced that theyre dating and others convinced that theyre just work partners and others convinced that theyre family of some sort #oh also by the time they rise up the ranks of stalker fame both of their eggs have cracked so yura uses he/she and the names yura and yulya #interchangably and is on e and stuff and sanya binds and uses ze/hir but they also dont rlly care abt strangers perceptions of their gender #so at the end of every day they get home and have silly convos like “i got pegged as a cis guy by the grocery store cashier today” “yeah i #ropped by andreis to drop smth off and his mom was very confused about whether to call me sir or maam" #oh theyre both training this kid [my occc :333] andrei to become a stalker [bcs he begged them so so nicely] #sorry this sounds insane. glimpse into my sick and twisted mind ig

[carmyprosecco]

as someone fairly new to motogp finding out that many of the riders in their 20s are in committed relationships and even married has shifted my worldview. like compare that to f1 where many of them are in more casual relationships. not saying that one is better than the other but its a veryy interesting comparison, much to think about 👀

#like wdym joan is a DAD #and luca is married #of course there are exceptions but the general trend seems to be so #maybe one aspect is the amount of media and scrutiny in f1 #the absolute lack of privacy where any interactions they have with their partners is picked apart (wag pages are insane) #also the meteoric rise to fame #lyn’s thoughts

[notallbloodmages]

Just remembered that time Adam Howden (Anders' VA) was actively seeking out people to fight with and he started a fight with me because I'm not vegan. I was replying to someone about a recipe I had that was delicious with meat substitute, and that I ate it all the time when I used to be vegan.

He said that meat eaters, including me, who again he was replying to despite the thread I replied to being a personal friend instead of a trending tweet, should all die and I wish I'd have saved those screenshots from my old laptop... because damn that gave me such a good laugh.

#not important #idk how to turn reblogs off #but im not ttrying to like Expose him or anything just remembered while my partner was playing Xenoblade Chronicles #also this was like 6 years ago #maybe 7 #so idk if he's still Like That (ecofash) anymore #i dont feel like unblocking him to find out #lame claim to fame