Listen I get it you want to feel high and mighty in your bedroom telling us to boycott Eurovision. But do you actually boycott anything year round?
Do you boycott everything on all of these lists or are you still booking holidays and order McDonald’s and using Google to search on your Dell or HP computer to search for things on Amazon you’re buying. Are you still watching the latest Disney or Marvel film? Yes? Then telling us to boycott 6 hours of tv is going to do nothing because you’re performative wanting nothing more than to have an excuse to shit on other people and feel high and mighty.
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hey psa if you want to flirt with me pls tell me what you’re doing I am made of autism and naivety
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please write your reader insert however you want to. unabashedly!! write fat reader. black reader. asexual. masculine. tall. trans. disabled. you’re allowed to see yourself reflected in these spaces!!! sometimes your fic won’t be for everyone—it will be for all the people who look, think, love and experience life the way you do and that’s ok! it’s wonderful, actually.
it is not your job to make sure the shoe comfortably fits every single person out there. your only job is to tag it, and if anyone tells you otherwise I’ll personally come out swinging lol
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Part 2
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Bonus!
@abbeyofcyn
I realize that for like 80% of the first half I forgot to add Donnie’s googles and I was too lazy to add them so they blip in and out of existence haha
You can see when the burnout hit me like a freight train too :p
Originally I was going to add Donnie’s reaction to the feedback before Mikey came and gave him a cup of cocoa but I decided to remove it cus I was running out of space, darn 10 image limit
Off to the next part! >:D
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with reader being the breadwinner i can just SEE older bf!simone (begrudgingly) tagging along for a work thing. maybe he’s dressed a little fancy because you’re accepting an award (in the form of a framed certificate that simon hangs as soon as you two get home.)
it’s driving you a little crazy, really, seeing him stuffed in that suit.
and of course si is the talk of town when he and the you show. and of course he’s completely unaware—but not to be purposefully non-observant. he literally just does NOT give a fuck about anyone else there but you
your MIND 😭🤪🫶🏼
the minute you tell older bf!simon that you’ve won an award at work- he’s ecstatic.
he’s genuinely incredibly proud of you and, to him, it feels impossible to wipe that big cheesy smile off his face.
until you tell him about the gala.
the one that you need to go to accept the award, the one you want him to come to with you, the one that means he’ll have to drag the one suit he owns out the back of the wardrobe.
he grumbles about it like a petulant child for the whole week leading up.
until he sees you- sees you wearing an outfit that looks like it was made for you. one that’s already got him chubbing up in his good trousers.
“fucking ‘ell, f’get this stupid dinner- i’ll give ye’ all the rewards y’need”
“get in the car, simon”
he’s on his best behaviour, and by that you mean he hasn’t begged to leave any more than three times since you got here.
that’s pretty good in your eyes.
simon doesn’t appreciate the stares, no matter where he is he can feel eyes on his six and on the only reason he’s actually here- you.
“would ‘ppreciate if they could stop staring at what’s mine”
“i don’t think it’s me they’re looking at”
he’s suddenly acutely aware that the men he thought were staring at you are actually eyeing him with a certain jealousy-
and their wives look like they want to tear him apart.
jesus christ.
he turns to tell you that you should really get that fucking certificate and bolt but he watches you move.
sees the way you lay a hand on his chest, fitting your body to the curve of his side. his arm naturally fits around your waist as you stare down a particularly trying colleague that looks like she might take a bite.
“y’not jealous are you, sweet’art?”
he watches the way you roll your eyes at him, huffing as if it’s barely a question worth asking- all before you practically bare your teeth at the other woman.
simon feels that same pressure in his tidy slacks and he makes sure that silly tart can see his hand as it coasts over the back of you- getting a sly handful of what’s his.
“hmm, maybe we can stay- but y’might have t’remind me of m’place when we’re home”
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