#now united matching icons

[brunaxzx]

<3

🇩🇪,🇰🇷Siyoon matching icons

like or reblog if you save

[mamaysposts]

[rannie-moon]

“The Industry’s Most Successful Fangirl” — Lee Heran Announced as One of the Artists on the F1 Movie Soundtrack

What can’t the IT girl do?

Accidentally headlining Coachella and breaking global viewer records, topping the Billboard charts with her experimental EP Leak This!, spearheading an ENHYPEN comeback, and now—landing a coveted spot on the official F1 movie soundtrack, all within a span of two months?

Her name is Lee Heran.

The much-anticipated F1 film, starring Brad Pitt and directed by Joseph Kosinski (Top Gun: Maverick), was officially announced on July 5, 2024, immediately uniting movie buffs and Formula 1 fanatics alike. And as of May 1, 2025, the official soundtrack lineup was revealed, featuring global icons such as RAYE, Ed Sheeran, Doja Cat, and the industry’s elite—BLACKPINK’s Rosé and ENHYPEN’s very own Lee Heran.

While Rosé’s continued rise in the U.S. charts makes her presence a welcomed expectation, Heran’s inclusion has sparked its own buzz. Why? Because if there’s one thing the 21-year-old is known for outside of her sharp vocals and genre-bending artistry—it’s her undying, unapologetic love for sports.

From her sporty-chic airport fashion to her spontaneous race-day live tweets and signature football jerseys in casual wear, Heran has steadily built a reputation as K-pop’s ultimate sports girlie. Her fans have long dubbed her “the industry’s most successful fangirl”—and this moment solidifies it.

In fact, this isn’t her first brush with a crossover between fandom and opportunity. One of her most iconic moments to date came in 2022 during the final round of the EAFF E-1 Football Championship hosted in Japan. A day before her 18th birthday, Heran joined ENHYPEN as part of Korea’s honorary delegation and stepped onto the pitch to take the opening penalty kick.

A former high school football team captain, Heran launched the ball into the top corner of the net with such precision and power that the stadium roared to life. National team captain and Tottenham Hotspur star and captain Son Heung-min later posted a photo with Heran to Instagram with the cheeky caption: “Scored us a goal so I’ll be popping in for an Inkigayo performance soon 🤗🩷”

And let’s not forget the signed Lionel Messi jersey she once casually wore during rehearsals—a gift fans are still debating how she secured.

As for Formula 1, Heran has been vocal about her support for years. A die-hard McLaren fan (her phone case even sports the team logo), she’s frequently spotted engaging with race updates, watching qualifying rounds live, and talking about the countless Grand Prix's she attended as a child, having no shame in skipping school for a few days.

Her track for the film, titled “Just Keep Watching,” is said to blend synthwave elements with pulsing alt-pop production—staying in line with the “Sports Car” motif that dominated Leak This! Both thematically and sonically, it promises to match the high-speed adrenaline of the racetrack.

In a brief message to fans on Weverse, Heran wrote: “This one’s for the fans who’ve ever screamed at a screen because your driver got undercut in the pits. Hope you feel like you’re in the car when you hear it.”

If her previous track record is anything to go by, “Just Keep Watching” is set to be more than just a soundtrack cut—it’s going to be a defining moment for pop culture’s intersection with sport, fandom, and unapologetic passion.

The F1 film hits theatres worldwide on June 27, 2025. Buckle up.

taglist: @angie-x3@deluluscenarios @chaeryyeongz @akitoshi39i@sparklydoll444 @yunjiiin @kaitieskidmore97 @yb763@reibelhearts @enhaverse713586

[brunaxzx]

<3

Any Gabrielly & Josh Beauchamp metadinhas.

Like or reblog if you save, please. 💖

[vintagedebutante]

Power & Control

A JFK x Petite!Reader Fanfiction- 18+

Further Info: Smut, period-accurate views on virginity I guess, uh... rough sex

Word Count: 1.6k+

A/N: This is my first time writing smut in like, forever! I’d like to thank the ever-iconic @lancerlovesick for inspiring me to write again, I hope you all enjoy it! (Please be kind, I'm kinda rusty lmao)

All alone, you wrung your hands restlessly. You had received a call from one of the President's men instructing you to wait in the west sitting hall, part of the White House's residential area, for a face-to-face meeting with the President himself. Why on earth would the President want to see you alone? How bad of a job could you be doing as a lowly secretary where you required the attention of the country’s most powerful man? Puzzled, your eyes darted around the room.

The west sitting hall was both palatial and comfortable-- an austere half-moon-shaped window provided an elegant backdrop to the green and white floral couch and matching chairs, one of which you were anxiously curled up in.

Your train of thought was quickly derailed by the authoritative sound of a man’s footsteps approaching the room. Abruptly, you stood up and straightened your dress. Your heart clanged in your chest so ferociously you could have sworn you were about to faint.

John F. Kennedy, the President of the United States, stood before you in his expensive, well-tailored navy blue suit. He towered over you, making you feel even weaker in his presence. Though you had interacted with the President briefly many times during your few weeks as a secretary, you had never been alone together like this. Rather than giving you the reprimanding look you expected, he gazed at you rather... ravenously.

You hated to admit it, but you loved the way he looked at you. Though Kennedy was a married man, not to mention the President of the United States, you couldn't help but relish in his lustful gaze. The way his stormy blue-green eyes wandered as he looked down at your minuscule, delicate frame like you were his most prized possession sent you into a frenzy. Though you understood you were no more than one of John F. Kennedy's many sexual conquests, being in his presence like this made you feel like you were the only two people left on Earth. And then, oh God, he smirked and shot you a wink.

"You're a pretty little thing, you know that?" The President quipped in his charming Boston accent. "Now I've got you right where I want you."

"Oh! Uh, Mr. President, I... Mmh..."

Instinctively, a soft moan escaped your lips. You couldn't believe yourself, reduced to a giddy schoolgirl by such a powerful man. Your cheeks flushed. How embarrassing. Yet, the fluttering in your chest was undeniable-- you couldn't resist him. This must have been the famous "Kennedy charisma" you kept hearing about from the other secretaries. The President let out a low chuckle and swayed closer before placing a large, rough hand on your waist. The aroma of expensive cologne mixed with cigar smoke was intoxicating. God, you wanted him.

"Now how can I uh, get you out of that dress?"

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. The other women you worked with used their familiarity with the President as a kind of status symbol. You were lucky if he knew your name. To be lusted after by John F. Kennedy was unlike anything you'd imagined. Like a marionette controlled by an unseen force, you turned around, reached for your zipper, and slinked free from your cotton shirtdress. It was at this moment that you noticed how wet you were, your white undergarments marked with a visible damp spot where your thighs met.

"Not so innocent, are we now? Don't worry, there's nothing wrong with uh, being a little excited."

You guessed you weren't the only one who noticed. A bright red blush crept across your cheeks. As if in a trance, you stripped yourself of your matching set of undergarments and stood coyly before the country's most powerful man. What had come over you? You weren't normally that kind of girl, yet, in this moment, you found yourself uncharacteristically eager to please.

You could tell the President was enjoying himself. You heard gossip around the office that Kennedy got a thrill out of using his power to get those close to him to do his bidding. Whether he was challenging diplomats to swimming contests or making a newly hired secretary drop to her knees, the President was well aware of his influence on others. You never imagined he would turn his attention to you, after all, the two of you really hadn't interacted outside of work. Perhaps he was attracted to your subservience— you were always quick to follow orders from higher-ups in a professional sense.

"God, you're perfect," Kennedy remarked as he ran his large, textured hands over your tiny naked body, pausing to play with your perky breasts. "Spin for me."

Slightly confused, you stepped back and gave the President a coquettish twirl.

"Atta girl," he smirked as he took your dainty, manicured hand and led you to the large, floral-patterned couch behind the coffee table. The President let out a pained groan as he sat, his lustful expression briefly changing to one of genuine discomfort before slowly settling into a seated position. You watched excitedly as Kennedy fiddled with his belt, exposing his large, erect member as his slacks and undergarments pooled at his ankles. He wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

The President gave his cock a few slow, indulgent strokes before impatiently gesturing for you to join him. He was a busy man, after all. Knowing Kennedy, he likely had something important to attend to following your tryst. You couldn't help but feel special as you clumsily climbed into the man's lap, facing him. God, he was handsome. You had never been this close to the President before-- you could finally get a proper look at his chiseled, masculine features, made all the more apparent by his ever-present suntan. You understood why nearly every woman you worked with swooned over him. To be completely at Kennedy's mercy like this was sublime.

"Have you uh, done this before?" Kennedy's breath was warm on your neck.

"M-hm," you responded sheepishly. You knew it was unbecoming of an unmarried girl your age, but you knew better than to lie about the time you spent at the local drive-in with a handsy boy or two back in high school.

"You dirty girl." The President began to draw slow circles on your aching clit with his thumb. Immediately, you felt a hot, fluttering sensation in your chest. You tried to hide the immense pleasure you were receiving from such a light touch- you didn't want to come across as too needy. Though, based on how quick you were to disrobe, perhaps that ship had already sailed. Before you had time to gather your thoughts, Kennedy plunged his index finger into your wet little pussy. A sharp, panicked moan escaped your lips. "Hush, you don't want the whole White House to hear you now, do you," he quipped, only half-joking. Though the thought of getting caught was titillating, you decided it would be in your best interest to obey. You ran your hands through his thick, perfect-looking chestnut hair as he roughly thrust his finger deeper inside, desperately grabbing fistfuls to keep yourself from making the mistake of being too loud once more.

Wasting no time, the President slipped his index finger out of you and began stroking his larger-than-average shaft indulgently in preparation. Though you were not a virgin, you still wondered how you would manage to fit the whole thing inside yourself. You were quite petite, and it had been a while, after all. Nervously, you adjusted your position so the tip of Kennedy's throbbing, fully erect cock was resting at your entrance. You inhaled deeply, bracing yourself. You locked eyes as he gently placed his hands on your waist.

"Now, are you going to be a good girl and keep quiet for me?"

"Yes, Mr. President," you whispered coyly.

The President grabbed you by the hips as he nearly slammed himself inside you, setting a feverish pace. Instinctively, you buried your face in his neck and let out a muffled gasp. It hurt at first, but the initial pain gave way to immense pleasure as your muscles relaxed. You bucked your hips up and down, desperately trying to match his rhythm.

"God, you're so tight, just how I like my girls," Kennedy whispered between grunts and curses. All you could muster in response was a soft, tortured whimper as you held onto him for dear life. The throbbing between your legs was excruciating.

Kennedy lowered his lips to your ear. You could nearly feel his teeth against your skin. "I could just hide you away and have you all to myself whenever I want. How does that sound?" You could only moan against his neck-- though the prospect of being one of the President's favorite playthings only made the pleasant sensation in the pit of your stomach grow.

"Oh, Mr. President..." Your breathing hastened as you gave in to the all-consuming wave of pleasure that overtook you. You had never experienced a climax so intense-- it was as if an earthquake raged within you, you couldn't help yourself from trembling as Kennedy continued thrusting roughly. "Atta girl," he whispered. His grip tightened on your hips as his pace increased, his low moans sounding more frustrated by the second.

"Oh, fuck," the President gasped, his head rolling back as he violently came inside you. You could feel his cock furiously throbbing within your walls as you both paused to catch your breath. You sat up straight as you watched him wipe the sweat from his brow.

"Same time next week, doll?" Kennedy asked breathlessly.

You stumblingly dismounted, your knees wobbling like jelly. You wondered how on Earth you would make it home after such an experience.

"Of course, Mr. President."

[kathlare]

a heart out of sync

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: With Max offering light-hearted advice and a night out as a distraction, Lando wrestles with the harsh truth of moving on while trying to suppress the jealousy and regret that linger beneath the surface.

Wordcount: 1.1 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

November 8th, 2022 - London, United Kingdom

liked by barcawagsnation, f1wagsgossip, and others

barcagossiphq: Spotted! 👀✨ Amelie Dayman attended the Barcelona vs. Osasuna match at El Sadar today, making her first official appearance as Rodrigo Riquelme's girlfriend. 💙❤️ The WAG debut we’ve all been waiting for! Fans couldn’t keep their eyes off her in the stands – she’s already bringing the star power to the Barca fam. 👏🔥

View all 888 comments

barca_fanatic22: Amelie really said, "WAG era activated." I’m obsessed. 😭✨ → amelieforever88: @barca_fanatic22 She’s the moment. Rodrigo won on and off the pitch. 🏆

riquelmefan99: Not Amelie casually stealing the spotlight at a Barca game. Queen behavior. 👑 → amelieobsessed_07: @riquelmefan99 She made the whole match about her without even trying. Iconic. 😂💅

hatersgonnahate01: Why is she everywhere now? Let the game be about the players for once. 🙄

barcagossip_queen: Her first WAG moment and she already looks like she’s been doing this for years. Slay. 😩🔥 → ameliefanatic77: @barcagossip_queen She said, “Natural talent,” and we’re eating it up. 😂✨

landoxfan33: Not me lowkey missing her in F1 while she’s thriving in Barca. The crossover we didn’t know we needed. 😭 → ameliefan22: @landoxfan33 Let her slay in football now. She’s taking over every sport, period. 💖

riquelmestan_10: Amelie showing up for Rodrigo like a boss gf. Love to see it. 🥰 → barcafangirl09: @riquelmestan_10 She’s not just supporting, she’s SERVING. 🖤

ameliehaters_89: This is so extra. She doesn’t even belong here. 🙄

wagsfanatic69: The way she’s already outshining the OG WAGs, Amelie’s here to dominate. 🔥 → amelie_simp24: @wagsfanatic69 They better take notes. Amelie’s setting the standard now. 😌✨

fcbfan_14: I wasn’t ready for the Amelie and Rodrigo era, but I’m HERE FOR IT. 🤩 → amelieobsessed23: @fcbfan_14 Same. The power this couple holds is unreal. 😭

futbolfan08: She’s officially a WAG and I’m still not over it. 😵‍💫🔥 → amelie_stan99: @futbolfan08 Same, I’m crying. She’s living the dream, and we’re just here for the show. 💘

landoxfan123: Wait, so now we’re calling her a WAG? Oh, the drama. 😭 → ameliefanatic32: @landoxfan123 Yeah, she’s THAT girl now. Lando who? It’s all about Rodrigo now. 😏💅

-------------

Lando leaned against the kitchen counter of his London flat, scrolling aimlessly through Instagram while waiting for Max to arrive. The space was clean but not overly neat—empty takeaway containers from the night before sat on the far end of the counter, and a half-full glass of water rested beside his phone. His cheek still ached from Callum's punch, a dull throb he was trying to ignore. The bruise had turned an unpleasant shade of purple, and even though he tried to convince himself it didn’t matter, every glance in the mirror served as a reminder of just how messy things had gotten in Mexico.

A knock at the door pulled him out of his thoughts. He pushed off the counter, crossing the flat in a few strides to open it. Max stood there, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his face lighting up with his usual cheeky grin.

—What’s up, mate?— Max said, stepping inside and shrugging off his jacket. He stopped mid-motion when he caught sight of Lando’s face. —Bloody hell, what happened to you?—

Lando let out a groan, rubbing the back of his neck as he closed the door. —Long story.—

Max raised an eyebrow, setting his jacket over the back of a chair before leaning against the dining table. —Looks like someone decided to use your face as a punching bag. You gonna tell me who, or do I have to guess?—

Lando hesitated, his fingers tapping lightly on the edge of the counter. He wasn’t in the mood to get into it, but he knew Max wasn’t going to let it go. —It was Callum,— he admitted, his tone flat.

Max’s eyes widened in surprise before a smirk tugged at his lips. —Amelie’s brother?—

—The very one,— Lando muttered, reaching for the glass of water on the counter and taking a sip.

Max let out a low whistle, clearly amused. —Damn, mate. What the hell did you do to deserve that?—

Lando shot him a look, unamused. —Do we really have to do this right now?—

Max shrugged, leaning back against the table with his arms crossed. —Just saying, it’s not every day you get decked by a guy like Callum. Must’ve been something serious.—

Lando didn’t respond immediately, his jaw tightening. He could feel the weight of Max’s curiosity pressing down on him, but the last thing he wanted was to unpack the entire mess of his history with Amelie. —It doesn’t matter. He was pissed. End of story.—

Max studied him for a moment before his eyes drifted to Lando’s phone on the counter, the screen still open on Instagram. He stepped closer, his brow furrowing when he saw the post displayed.

—Wait, is that Amelie?— he asked, his tone shifting slightly.

Lando sighed, setting his glass down and running a hand through his hair. —Yeah.—

Max picked up the phone, squinting at the photo of Amelie at the Barcelona game. She was in the stands, cheering for Rodrigo. It was one of those effortlessly candid moments, the kind that made everything look perfect.

—So it’s official then?— Max asked, glancing up at Lando.

—Looks like it,— Lando replied, trying to sound indifferent but failing miserably.

Max tilted his head, a knowing smirk forming on his face. —You’re jealous, aren’t you?—

Lando scoffed, turning away to avoid Max’s gaze. —Don’t be ridiculous.—

—Oh, come on,— Max pressed, setting the phone back down. —You can’t tell me it doesn’t bother you. Seeing her all happy and settled with some footballer. That’s gotta sting.—

Lando clenched his jaw, gripping the edge of the counter. —She’s doing everything she didn’t want to do with me,— he muttered, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Max’s expression softened slightly, his teasing replaced by genuine curiosity. —What do you mean?—

Lando hesitated, his shoulders tense. —When we were… whatever we were, she always said she didn’t want to do the public thing. No pictures, no attention, none of it. She wanted to keep things private. And now…— He gestured vaguely toward his phone. —Now she’s out there, all over Instagram, going to games, holding hands. It’s like everything’s changed.—

Max leaned against the counter beside him, crossing his arms. —Maybe it’s not about what she wanted back then. Maybe it’s about who she’s with now.—

The words hit harder than Lando expected, and he frowned, staring down at the counter. —Yeah, thanks for that, mate. Really helpful.—

Max held up his hands defensively. —Hey, I’m just saying. People change. Maybe Rodrigo makes her feel like she can do all that stuff without it being a big deal.—

Lando didn’t respond, his mind racing with thoughts he didn’t want to entertain. The truth was, Max was probably right. Rodrigo did seem like the perfect guy—charming, successful, the kind of person who could make anyone feel secure.

But that didn’t make it any easier to see.

Max clapped a hand on Lando’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. —Look, mate. I know it sucks. But if she’s happy, maybe it’s time to let it go. Focus on you for a change.—

Lando let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. —Yeah, because I’ve been doing such a great job of that lately.—

Max grinned, stepping back. —Well, that’s why I’m here. Come on, let’s eat something and get ready to go out. A few drinks, some good music, you’ll forget all about it by the end of the night.—

Lando didn’t have the heart to tell him that forgetting wasn’t as easy as it sounded. But he nodded anyway, forcing a small smile as he followed Max to the dining table.

Maybe a night out was exactly what he needed. Or maybe it would just be another distraction. Either way, it was better than sitting around feeling sorry for himself.

[the-offside-rule]

Mason Mount (Manchester United) - Theatre of Dreams

Requested: yes

Prompt: 10) Baby's first game

Warnings: none

Baby Prompts

The sun hung low in the sky as Mason, his wife Y/n, and their son Joshua approached the iconic Old Trafford stadium for Joshua's first ever football match. Excitement buzzed in the air, and little Joshua, donned in a mini version of his dad's jersey, couldn't contain his giggles. "Daddy, are we going to see you play?" Joshua asked, his eyes wide with anticipation. Mason chuckled, holding onto his son's tiny hands, carefully leading him into the stadium. "Yes we are, bossman." He replied, lifting him up as he spotted the few reporters and photographers, not wanting to reveal his son, nevermind startle him. Whilst everyone knew the couple had a child, they didn't know what he looked like or anything about him. "Can you score? You haven't scored in ages." Mason looked over to Y/n who attempted to hide a grin. "Yeah, I'll try."

Mason showed Y/n and Joshua up to the box where most of the WAGs stayed, telling them about where everything is and how to leave after the final whistle blew. "So I'll wait for you in the car park?" Y/n asked. Mason nodded. "Yeah, just-" He was cut from his wrds as he felt a small tug at his trousers. The couple looked down to see Joshua pointing out the window. "Daddy, it's so big!" Joshua exclaimed, his voice filled with awe. Mason grinned, sharing a look with Y/n and once again lifting Joshua up. "Yep, it's one of the biggest stadiums, buddy. You're going to have a great time." Mason placed a gentle kiss onto his son's cheek. "Now, you sit with Mummy and I'll see you after the game, yeah?" He suggested, handing him over to Y/n.

"Bye, Daddy!" Joshua smiled, pulling at his mother's jacket. "Oh, before I leave-" He paused and reached for a black Manchester United bag, pulling out a small box and handing it to Joshua. "I got you a quick pressie." Joshua examined the box carefully before pulling the lid off and being confronted with a bright red jersey. He lifted it and looked at the back, his father's number staring back. "What do you think?" Mason asked gently. "It's not blue." Joshua replied. Mason couldn't help but feel his heart drop a little bit, the thought of his son not supporting him lingering in the back of his mind. "But red is my favourite."

Mason beamed with joy and ruffled his hair. "Good man." He grinned. "I'll see you after the game." He stood up and leaned over to Y/n. "Love you." He whispered. "Love you too."

As the players took to the pitch, Y/n and Joshua cheered with unbridled enthusiasm, their voices merging with the chorus of supporters around them. "I see daddy!" Joshua exclaimed, clapping his hands. "No, baby. Daddy is number 7, not 19." She explained calmly. "Oh. Okay." He searched the pitch again before turning back to his Mum. "What number is 7 again?"

As Mason walked back to the car, he smiled gently upon seeing Y/n leaning against the car. "Missed you." He said with a tender smile, grateful for her unwavering support. She giggled as he practically fell into her arms. "Ot has been 2 hours." He shrugged. "I dom't care. Couldn't wait to get off the pitch for once." He said, pulling away and looking behind her. "Was he okay?" He asked, referring to Joshua who was asleep. "He was fine. He's just a bit sleepy now." Mason nodded. "We should get home and get him to bed."

As the couple reached home, they stopped in silence for a moment. "This is mad, you know." Mason arched a brow. "I mean, I remember my first match as your girlfriend and now we have our son coming with us. That's all I mean." Mason smiled sleepily. "It is mad when you put it that way." Mason undid his seatbelt and hopped out of the car. "Would you mind bringing in my kitbag and I'll bring Joshua to bed?" Y/n agreed before grabbing his bag and heading inside.

With tender care, Mason unbuckled Joshua's seatbelt, his movements slow and deliberate so as not to disturb the tranquility of sleep. He marveled at the innocence that radiated from his son's peaceful countenance, a sight that never failed to fill his heart with a sense of warmth and pride. Gently cradling Joshua in his arms, Mason stepped out of the car, the cool night air washing over him like a soothing balm. As Mason made his way towards the house, his footsteps were soft and deliberate, each one a testament to the love that guided his every move. He savored the weight of Joshua in his arms, the bond between them forged in the quiet moments of tenderness and affection.

Mason kicked off his shoes upon reaching the front door. He loved home. The warmth of the house enveloped them like a comforting embrace and each step on the soft carpet adding to the comfort. Mason tiptoed up the stairs, his movements fluid and effortless as he navigated the familiar terrain of their home.

Mason opened the nursery door, hushing Joshua as he stirred in his sleep. Mason gently laid his sleeping son down in his crib, tucking the blankets around him with infinite care. He lingered for a moment, his gaze lingering on Joshua's innocent face. "You doing alright?" He turned to see Y/n leaning by the door. "Just fine. I'll be right back to you in a minute and we can go watch a film or something." He replied. "Or try for baby number 2." He almost jumped at the suggestion. "Do you mean it?" Y/n chuckled softly at her husband's reaction. "Maybe. Don't leave me waiting too long." She said before heading away downstairs.

"Goodnight, Joshua." Mason said as he brushed a gentle kiss against Joshua's forehead. With a final glance, Mason tiptoed out of the room, the door closing softly behind him, and for his son to sleep after spending his evening in the Theatre of Dreams.

[thesims4blogger]

Plumfruit is Back! Arnie, a modder for The Sims 4, released his Plumfruit mod. The mod was a revamp of the existing cell phone in the game and had some new features as well. The original mod was already quite impressive but he’s revamped it, adding more functional objects, more apps, and more ways to enjoy a high-tech lifestyle in The Sims 4.

Introducing Plumfruit Essentials!

Hey friends,

Yesterday I announced The Plumfruit Collection and two new mod kits, Retrofruit and Plumfruit Essentials. You can watch the trailer here on my YouTube channel, and read the full post announcement here!

Today is my brithday and my gift to you is the release of Plumfruit Essentials!! 🥳 This is the first mod kit from the Plumfruit Collection, which will expand in the future with new releases!

Say hello to Plumfruit Essentials, a brand new mod kit featuring some of your favourite Plumfruit device types: phone, tablets, computers, and more! This mod kit is kind of a reimagining of Plumfruit Lite, a mod kit with more simple items I released just before I stepped away from Sims modding three years ago. But everything here is brand new: simpler code, better stability, and better design than ever before!

What’s included?

📱 PlumPhone Air – A stylish new phone replacement with a custom animated screen and PlumfruitOS visuals. For now, it’s available in one swatch: Titanium, and this is just the first of a new generation of Plumfruit phones.

There are also new app icons I designed for your UI Phone, that match the interactions and categories! Now please be careful: the PlumPhone Air and the new app icons are overriding some of the game's items, interactions and categories! Any other mod overriding the phone will conflict!

💻 PlumPad Air & PlumPad Mini – These elegant tablets come with a completely overhauled interaction menu, now sorted into apps with all-new icons for easier accessibility, similar to what I’ve done with CheatsMaster and Luminova. These icons will be shared across all Plumfruit devices (and the next Luminova update too!)

🖥️ iPlum Air & PlumBook Air – A futuristic all-in-one desktop and a sleek laptop companion. Both come with 15 beautiful wallpapers, a minimalist black-screen swatch, and new apps like Mail, Web Explorer, Notes, and more.

🔊 PlumPod Max & PlumPod Mini – These are for all the music lovers out there! Great sound quality, colourful swatches, animated screens, smart home features (compatible with Luminova), and access to Plumfruit’s virtual assistant, Neo.

If you have my Luminova Mod Kit installed, there are already some features that are cross-comptaible, and there will be soon another update expanding the features!

🎧 PlumBuds – A stylish replacement for the EarBuds from the Fitness Stuff Pack – required for them to show up and work! With an overhauled menu and custom icons for a smoother, more modern feel. (This is also an override and it will conflict with any other mod replacing the EarBuds!)

📸 PlumCam Future – A high-end camera with three lenses and a massive touchscreen at the back. It works just like the in-game HD cameras, but with an updated futuristic design (perfect to take pictures to store on Retrofruit storage units when it comes out!)

📺 PlumTV – Running PlumfruitOS (just like the Luminova Smart TV), this new TV features rounded corners, a selection of new screensavers, and sleek modern lines.

You can also use the animated TV Backlight from Luminova with this new TV!

----------------------------

Plumfruit Essentials is now available to download on the new ✦ Early Access ✦ Page!

Plumfruit Essentials is available as early access for Patreon paid Members, but it will be available publicly and free for all in just one week! I didn’t want to do a full 2–3 week early access with this one, since it’s kind of reviving a mod I’ve created before, even though every item is completely new. But I still wanted to thank and reward my Patreon supporters, so I thought this was a fair way to do it.  

[nolongerhitori]

☆ BSD MUSIC HCS ☆

RYUUNOSUKE AKUTAGAWA

Was never into music

Until Chuuya's dragged him out to a PM karaoke night

That was when our boy became a metalhead

Contrary to popular opinion, I don't think he's really into classical music

He probably listens to it sometimes, but rock & metal are his go-to genres

LOVES LOVES LOVES Iron Maiden, Metallica, MCR, Nirvana, Radiohead

GIN AKUTAGAWA

Like her brother, she was never into music

Until Chuuya happened

Now she & Ryuunosuke listen to hardcore rock together

Used her first PM paycheck to buy an electric guitar

Spends nearly all her days off shredding and practicing iconic riffs from the 70's while Ryuu watches and applauds they're bonding

OSAMU DAZAI

I think he'd like ballads, kpop, and nostalgic city pop

The first time he heard Seori's "Lovers in the Night," he had it on repeat for a week

LOVES Hwasa's "Maria" (I think it just...empowers him? I can't explain it)

Big fan of Fujii Kaze, natori, Yuu Miyashita

Sometimes he listens to jazz because it reminds him of his time with Oda at Lupin

CHUUYA NAKAHARA

This fandom may disagree on a lot of things, but we all stand united when it comes to Chuuya's taste in music

Rock.

That's it. Just pure rock n roll from the '70's & 80's

His father got him into it

Wanted to be a rockstar as a child (secretly still wants to be one)

Blasts Maneskin, Eagles, Police, Guns n' Roses, Nirvana at 2am much to Kouyou's dismay

YKW since we don't know anything ab what he used to do when he was 17-18 years old, I think

He grew out his hair into a PROPER mullet

Grew his hair out to match Robert Plant when he was young

Got Gin & Ryuunosuke into rock

Give him some time w/ Kenji, and he'll be into rock in no time

THERE'S MORE

If he had a partner, they'd go on long drives together with a romantic arctic monkeys song playing

Maybe sth like "No. 1 Party Anthem" or "Stop The World I Wanna Get Off" or "One For The Road"

[hurriane23456]

In His Shoes

Tim, the detail-oriented property manager, was making his rounds in the building, clipboard in hand. He entered Derek’s apartment—6B—one of the most eclectic units in the complex. Derek was obsessed with Halloween, and the decorations were proof of it. Skulls, cobwebs, eerie portraits, and creepy figurines covered almost every surface.

As Tim wandered through the apartment, checking for any maintenance issues, he opened the closet and spotted a large, unassuming box labeled *HALLOWEEN*. Curiosity got the better of him. He knelt down, opened the box, and inside was a full Michael Myers costume. It was all there: the heavy jumpsuit, the blank white mask, black boots, and even the layers of clothing that would be worn underneath the suit.

Tim looked around. Derek wasn’t coming back for hours, so there was no harm in just trying it on for a bit. He felt an odd pull, the kind that begged him to see what it would be like to embody this infamous horror icon.

First, Tim took off his jacket and tossed it onto the bed. Then, he unbuttoned his shirt, feeling a strange excitement building in his chest. Off came his belt, and he let his khakis pool at his feet before stepping out of them. Now standing in just his underwear and socks, he reached for the undershirt that came with the costume—a black, tight-fitting thermal that clung to his torso. The material felt snug, slightly cool at first, but it warmed to his body quickly. He pulled on the matching black pants that went underneath the jumpsuit. They were stretchy but firm, hugging his legs, giving him a feeling of being bound, yet ready for action.

He glanced at the jumpsuit. It looked sturdy, thick, almost like it had seen some real wear and tear. He stepped into it, pulling the legs up, adjusting the fit around his waist before sliding his arms through the sleeves. Zipping it up felt like locking himself into a whole new identity. The jumpsuit was heavy on his shoulders, a little stiff, but it gave him a strange sense of power. His movements felt deliberate, almost mechanical.

Next, the boots. He slid off his socks and stepped into the bulky, worn-in black work boots. They felt solid, grounding him as if they had a presence of their own. Tim clomped around the room, each step making a deep thud against the floor. He tested his movements, adjusting to the weight of the whole ensemble.

Then came the mask—the most iconic piece. Tim held it in his hands, inspecting its blank, pale face. The plastic was cold to the touch. He hesitated for a moment, feeling a ripple of excitement mixed with unease. Slowly, he pulled it over his head. The inside of the mask felt snug against his face, his breath immediately warming the interior. His vision was slightly obscured by the narrow eye holes, giving everything a tunneled, distant feeling.

He caught his reflection in the mirror. The transformation was startling. He wasn’t Tim the property manager anymore. He was Michael Myers—silent, menacing, unstoppable. He stood still for a moment, soaking in the surreal sight of himself, fully immersed in the role.

The thrill of it was intoxicating, but just as Tim was about to take the mask off, he heard the front door creak open.

“Hey, I think I—” Derek’s voice came from the hallway, but he stopped abruptly when he entered the bedroom. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of Tim standing there in his full Michael Myers costume.

****DEREK****

Derek had forgotten his phone. That’s why he’d come back so soon, though he didn’t expect much to be happening in his apartment. Tim, the property manager, was supposed to be doing inspections today, but it wasn’t like he would get into anything too interesting. Or so Derek thought.

When he opened the front door, he heard faint noises coming from the bedroom. He crept in, curious. He didn’t want to interrupt Tim, but what he saw stopped him in his tracks.

Tim stood in the middle of Derek’s Halloween-obsessed bedroom, fully engrossed in something. And then Derek saw it—the Michael Myers costume laid out in the open. The one he cherished every year for the season. For a second, Derek was about to step forward, say something, maybe laugh at how Tim had clearly dug into his stuff. But he held back, biting his lip, curiosity getting the better of him. Tim hadn’t noticed him yet, and Derek decided to see how far this would go.

From the corner of the hallway, Derek watched as Tim started to undress. He kicked off his loafers, sliding them to the side, and then unfastened his belt. The crisp sound of the buckle hitting the floor echoed in the quiet room. Derek had to hold back a laugh. This was too good.

Tim peeled off his button-down shirt, exposing his torso. His movements were slow, cautious, as if he still expected someone to catch him. He tossed the shirt aside, then stepped out of his khakis, now standing there in just his underwear. Derek could tell Tim was intrigued by the costume—his fingers hovered over the thick black thermal undershirt and pants. He picked up the thermal shirt and held it for a moment, almost testing the fabric in his hands.

*He’s really going for it,* Derek thought, smiling to himself.

Tim pulled the black undershirt over his head, his movements slow, deliberate. Derek knew how that fabric felt—tight but comfortable, like a protective layer wrapping you up. Next, Tim picked up the black thermal pants and stepped into them, pulling them snug over his legs. Derek could almost feel it himself—the warmth of the material against the skin, how it fit like a second layer, slightly compressive but not uncomfortable.

Then came the jumpsuit. Derek’s grin widened as Tim picked it up. The jumpsuit was thick and heavy, designed to make you feel like a force of nature. Tim stepped into it, one leg at a time, pulling it up over his body. The zipper was loud in the otherwise silent room as Tim secured it up to his chest, adjusting the shoulders and smoothing it down. He looked at himself in the mirror, his posture already shifting, like he was starting to feel the weight of the transformation.

Derek knew exactly what that felt like—the moment the jumpsuit was zipped up, you didn’t just wear the costume; you became something else. It was as if the heavy material draped a new personality over you. Tim stood there, testing the feeling of it, moving a little slower now, his hands brushing the thick fabric as he adjusted to the strange power it gave him.

Tim’s attention turned to the boots next. He pulled them out of the box and sat on the edge of Derek’s bed, sliding off his socks. Derek almost chuckled; he remembered how those boots felt the first time he wore them. They were worn, well-loved, and solid. Tim pulled them on, lacing them tight, and stomped them down on the floor to test the fit. Derek watched as Tim stood up, his posture changing again. The boots gave him an extra inch or two of height, made his steps feel heavier, more deliberate.

Finally, Tim reached for the mask. Derek knew this part. The mask was the key to the entire transformation. Without it, you were just a guy in a jumpsuit. But with it? You became Michael Myers—cold, unfeeling, and terrifying. Tim hesitated for a second, holding the blank white mask in his hands. Then, slowly, he pulled it over his head.

Derek could see Tim’s shoulders tense as the mask came down, his breathing momentarily audible through the plastic. It was like watching someone shed their identity and take on a whole new persona. Tim stared at his reflection in the mirror, frozen, absorbing the eerie sight of himself transformed.

Derek couldn’t hold back anymore. He stepped into the room, the floor creaking under his foot.

“Hey, I think I forgot my—”

Tim spun around, eyes wide behind the mask. For a moment, Derek thought he might be embarrassed, but the blank Michael Myers face only made the moment funnier. He couldn’t help it—he burst out laughing.

“Dude, you look incredible!” Derek walked into the room, still grinning. “You’re totally nailing it!”

Tim lifted the mask a little, enough to reveal his face, sheepish but relieved. “I didn’t think you’d be back so soon,” he mumbled. “I just wanted to see how it felt.”

“No worries, man! You look great.” Derek admired the whole ensemble. Tim really had committed to it—he’d put on the whole thing, just like Derek always did. “You’ve gotta feel pretty badass in that.”

Tim nodded, still adjusting to the heavy costume. He was clearly feeling a little self-conscious now, though, and Derek had an idea. A brilliant, ridiculous idea.

“You know what?” Derek said, eyes gleaming. “Since you’re in my costume, I think it’s only fair I wear yours.”

Tim blinked, confused. “Wait, what?”

Before Tim could protest, Derek started pulling off his own clothes, tossing his T-shirt and jeans aside. “Come on, man! Let’s swap for real.”

He grabbed Tim’s neatly folded khakis from the bed and stepped into them, pulling them up and fastening them with Tim’s belt. The khakis were a little loose around Derek’s waist, but he tightened the belt, making it work. Next, he pulled on Tim’s button-down shirt, buttoning it from the bottom up, the fabric stretching a bit across his chest.

Derek smoothed the shirt down, rolling up the sleeves just enough to make it look casual, and then grabbed Tim’s loafers. They were a little too snug on his feet, but he managed to get them on. He stomped them on the floor a couple of times, adjusting to the feel of the formal shoes. Finally, he picked up Tim’s jacket, shrugged it over his shoulders, and adjusted the collar like a man about to head off to a board meeting.

Derek stood there for a moment, fully dressed in Tim’s property manager clothes, and struck a mock-serious pose. “What do you think? Do I look like a responsible property manager?”

Tim let out a laugh, shaking his head. “You look ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but you look terrifying, so we’re even!” Derek grinned and clapped Tim on the back. “Come on, we’ve gotta take this outside. You can’t just stand around looking this badass.”

Tim hesitated, but Derek was already pulling him toward the door. “Wait, you’re serious? You want to go out like this?”

“Hell yeah!” Derek said, his excitement building. “You’ve got the look down. Let’s see what people think.”

Outside, the cool autumn air hit them both, but it didn’t seem to faze Derek, even in Tim’s professional clothes. Tim, now fully dressed as Michael Myers, clomped down the street in those heavy boots, the mask obscuring his face and narrowing his vision to two hollow slits. He was already drawing attention from passersby. Derek couldn’t stop grinning as people slowed down, some pointing at Tim, others nervously laughing as they recognized the iconic slasher.

Derek strolled beside him, totally at ease in Tim’s khakis and loafers, while Tim moved slower, more deliberately, playing into the Michael Myers persona. People crossed the street to avoid him, wide-eyed and whispering, some even taking out their phones to snap pictures or record videos.

“You’re killing it, man!” Derek said, laughing as Tim stomped past another group of onlookers, their jaws practically on the floor.

Tim let out a muffled chuckle behind the mask, the absurdity of the situation finally sinking in. It wasn’t just the costume—it was the entire experience. Being someone else, if only for a while, and watching the world react. It was ridiculous. It was fun. And it was a day neither of them would ever forget.

[felixcloud6288]

Cloud vs Sephiroth is one of the more iconic video game rivalries. Even if you don't know much of Final Fantasy VII, you might know who Cloud and Sephiroth are and be aware that they have some long-standing antagonism bordering on eternal rivals/enemies. Wherever Cloud goes, Sephiroth will follow and they will fight.

As someone who played the original FFVII about a dozen times, I can't take their rivalry seriously and genuinely feel like anyone who thinks it's serious or there's any depth to it doesn't actually know what it's about.

Spoilers for Final Fantasy VII.

To start, Cloud and Sephiroth used to be employed by the Shinra Electric Company's military (Yes, an electric company had a military). Within the military was a group called SOLDIER which were the best warriors in Shinra's employ. Sephiroth was a SOLDIER 1st class, meaning he was the best of the best. And even among SOLDIER 1st class, Sephiroth was considered elite. He was the best of the best of the best.

Cloud was a low ranking member of the security force. He was one of the hundreds of generic military units employed by Shinra. So while Sephiroth was the cream of the crop, Cloud was part of the chaff.

Five years before the start of the game, Cloud and Sephiroth, along with another SOLDIER 1st class named Zack, were sent on a mission to investigate a reactor in Cloud's home town Nibelheim.

Shinra had an abandoned research facility in Nibelheim and Sephiroth decided to do some investigations while they were there. During his investigations, Sephiroth discovered he was the result of genetic experiments on an alien lifeform Shinra had discovered decades prior.

After learning this, Sephiroth went mad, killed almost everyone in Nibelheim, and burned the village down. Zack tried to stop Sephiroth and was effortlessly defeated. And then Cloud attacked Sephiroth and by a complete fluke managed to beat Sephiroth and stop his rampage.

Over the next five years, Cloud was used as a test subject for experiments on the same alien lifeform and this gave Sephiroth the power to manipulate Cloud's mind as he saw fit. And the first half of FFVII is Sephiroth manipulating Cloud to do his bidding while constantly mocking Cloud as a puppet with no will of his own. The second half of the game is about Cloud coming to grips with who he is and overcoming Sephiroth's hold on his psyche.

Now here's what the crux of their rivalry is: Sephiroth lost a fight to Cloud and is super salty about it. He is an elite warrior and Cloud is a nobody, and he spends every moment he can reminding Cloud that he's a nobody. But then Cloud manages to legitimately beat Sephiroth at the end of FFVII and every other time they appear together and fight is just another instance of Sephiroth trying to show that he's better than Cloud only for Cloud to beat him and tell Sephiroth to leave him alone.

Sephiroth is that guy on Scrubquotes who loses a match and then sends the message "You suck! You didn't earn your win!"

[elian0nhanov3r]

Axl Low Theory: "His parents were hippies."

Alright, I may not be the person who knows the most when it comes to the game's lore, but this theory is mostly based on some things I noticed that made sense to me. So, please don't take it too seriously; I made it for fun and to share some thoughts.

Also, English isn't my first language so I tried to use some tools so you could understand this sh**

Another thing is READ ALL if you want to understand my point, I know Axl is a British man and hippies were almost americans, I know his parents are rich and they may disinherit him, but please, read 'cause I treat those points in a way or another.

Let’s set the stage with a bit of context:

The hippie movement started in the United States, especially in San Francisco (California), as a reaction against materialism, the Vietnam War, racism, and the social conservatism of the time.

Here are some key values that probably sound familiar to many of you, but let’s refresh them anyway:

☮️-A total rejection of violence and war: The hippies were pacifists through and through.

☮️-Anti-consumerism: They preferred a simpler, more communal life and criticized the growing consumerism of American society.

☮️-Criticism of traditional monogamy and sexual norms, especially those upheld by 1950s American Christianity.

☮️-Interest in Eastern religions, astrology, and mysticism, rejecting mainstream Christianity.

☮️-Respect for nature and a sustainable lifestyle.

☮️-And, of course, the experimentation with drugs like LSD to expand consciousness. (This isn't the most important)

It’s worth noting that this movement wasn’t entirely altruistic. It’s known that many hippies were actually wealthy people who didn’t want to go to war or just wanted to live a carefree, ‘hippie’ lifestyle to escape family pressure. But that doesn’t mean their cause wasn’t legitimate. There were many who genuinely believed in it. Being a hippie doesn't mean you can't be prejudiced and horrible. Besides, people often have ideas when they're young that change when they grow up. Nobody is completely the same thing in their youth compared to their adulthood (30-40)

Also, hippies were persecuted by the police and society during those years. They were often spied on by the FBI under programs like COINTELPRO, aimed at controlling and dismantling countercultural movements. Many also faced discrimination for their appearance, lifestyle, and ideologies.

This led to some of them migrating to rural communes or even to countries like Mexico and India, seeking freedom of worship and less oppressive environments (Or even being prosecuted by the law for drug possession). Some even went to China.

Now, let’s focus on Axl.

No introduction needed; Axl is one of the most iconic characters from the game. He has the unique trait of being a time traveler, specifically from the '90s, which brings me to my first point:

Axl doesn’t quite fit the mentality of the 1990s. The '90s were a time marked by pessimism due to economic and political tensions. This decade saw a rise in sarcasm, satire, and dark humor in media, and entertainment reflected this shift. Think of shows like Ren and Stimpy, the rise of grunge music, comics like Punisher, and video games like Doom. Even kids hated figures that represented positivity, such as Barney.

Axl, on the other hand, stands out for his optimism and his perseverance despite adversity. While he does have his own tragic past, he faces it with humor and constantly strives to be a better person. He’s also a pacifist, always seeking peaceful resolutions, even though he has a history of gang involvement. A pacifist gang member from the '90s? That’s an odd combo.

Now, some might argue that Axl’s background doesn’t quite match the hippie culture. According to the game wiki, Axl comes from a wealthy family but grew up in a dangerous neighborhood in England. This raises a couple of questions:

-Why would wealthy people live in a dangerous area?

-And, if Axl grew up there, why isn’t he more violent like many of the others in his neighborhood?

-Another thing: Axl seems to live simply. His clothes aren’t particularly luxurious, and he eats at places like McDonald’s and hangs out at open-air markets, which suggests a more humble lifestyle. If his family is supposed to be rich, why is he living like that?

You might be asking, "Why are his parents, and not Axl himself, the hippies?"

Well, Axl embodies only a few of the values of the movement, but his parents seem to represent the broader spirit of the hippie culture more directly. Axl is a young adult in the '90s, so he’d likely be between 23-27 years old (I’m guessing he was born between 1971-1975, based on estimates of his age and his time travel experiences). That places him in the 1970s for his childhood, when his parents were likely still deeply influenced by the movement.

(FOR THIS PART, IS NECESSARY FOR ME TO SAY I'M NOT A NATIVE ENGLISH SPEAKER, PLEASE THIS POINT IS ONLY FROM MY LISTENING OF MY SECOND LANGUAGE AND I KNOW I HAVE A BIG PROBABILITY OF SAYING NONSENSE HERE)

Now, here’s the part that might seem a bit weak, but hear me out: Axl’s accent. If you listen closely, you’ll notice that Axl’s English doesn’t quite sound British. It’s more like an American trying to sound British, especially in Strive and XRD. Maybe his parents weren’t British, and Axl grew up with a mixed accent because his parents were from a different place, but the world around him spoke with a British accent.

Now the theory itself:

Axl’s parents could have been a hippie couple who fled the United States during the 1970s. They might have moved to England to escape the oppressive social and political climate in America. I’m suggesting they’re Americans because of Axl’s American-style English, though it’s possible they were British hippies who’d returned to the UK after their time in Asia with other hippie communes.

They likely decided to settle down in the 1970s when they found out they were having a child. True to their hippie values, they chose to live in a poor, rundown neighborhood, away from the luxuries they could afford. However, they made sure Axl didn’t want for anything materially. More importantly, they instilled in him their values without forcing him into a particular path in life, allowing him the freedom to choose his own.

Growing up in such a neighborhood, Axl witnessed the violence and struggle around him, which only strengthened his commitment to his parents’ pacifist ideals. He likely heard stories of the persecution his parents faced, and perhaps this inspired him to act and try to bring peace to his community.

With all this in mind, I believe the environment in which Axl grew up played a big role in shaping who he became. His parents’ influence is clear, but the place he lived and the experiences he had contributed just as much to his growth. But of course, they only believed in this part of their cause, they might have changed their mind living in London and maybe they never believed in all of this and only looked for easy drugs, being that the reason or their persecution, or were a bit classist and racist, that's why they rejected Axl when he decided to live his life with Megumi.

Well, that's all guys, hope you like it... Don't take me seriously please, I say this only from the perspective of a weird stupid fan of Axl Low, i know this may be more a headcanon than a theory itself qwq

[callahanisms]

Impressions

pairing: tashi duncan x bipoc! fem! reader

word count: 1.9k words

context: 2019. los angeles. tashi duncan is looking to cast the protagonist for her newest film. she finds the perfect actor for her protagonist.

no specific pronouns used. reader is able bodied and can speak. reader is about 25, while tashi is 31/32.

this is me dipping my toes into the ghostface au. based on this post. if people really like this, then i will continue to write more.

Tashi Duncan.

Actress. Director. Producer. Screenwriter. Sometimes cinematographer.

Her list of credits are long. A child actress who evolved beyond the children’s sitcoms that your younger sister was obsessed with. You remember seeing her so clearly, seeing her laugh, seeing her cry, seeing her amazing fashion sense. Tashi Duncan was beloved and an icon.

Furthermore, she knew her standing.

She talked about the hard things, the things that kept so many people out of the industry: stereotypes and typecasting, racism, sexism, queerphobia. Tashi Duncan was a phenomenon, but only outside of the context of her being. She was an abstract to the industry, in an attempt to make her more appealing to their “base” demographic.

Some of them kept you back, kept you out. You were hoping this would be the moment where things would change for you.

You were an adjunct at a community college. You taught the basic writing classes. Most of your students were freshmen. On the side, you auditioned, did the occasional improv show, and helped students and peers with their films. You loved the movies. You loved films. You loved acting. You loved it all. You were excited to be teaching a class on film the next semester. One of the units, you knew, you wanted it to be on auteurs. What film would you show? What would you assign your students?

Reading helped pass the time when you were waiting for your name to be called. An open call casting for a new horror film by Tashi Duncan. The perfect opportunity for you. You remember the description: Non-white woman or femme presenting person. Mid 20s to early 40s.

You found that reading the script over and over again could cost you an audition. You would overload your brain, causing it to short circuit. You’d forget lines, stumble over your own words, and your cheeks would burn with the sense of humiliation. So instead, you were reading your book, highlighting and making notes in the margins. How many people would strangle you for such a crime?

“(Y/N) (L/N).”

You snap the book closed.

The room smells sterile, like they had soaked it in bleach and Febreeze. You almost wanted to choke. You were expecting to see a casting director. But in the middle of the table, with her sunglasses resting atop of her head, was Tashi Duncan.

She wore a combination of silver and gold jewelry. You recognized her gold cross necklace. The button down dress showed off her legs, bringing your eyes to the wedges that matched the white and blue vertical stripes. Her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows. Her brown eyes scan you. She saw right through you.

“Auteurs and Authorship.” Her voice commands the entire room. The door clicks shut behind you.

“I’m…sorry?” You’re so small in front of her.

“Barry Keith Grant. Your book.”

“Oh. Yes…”

“Interesting. An amateur move.” She folds her hands together on the table and leans forward.

“Could you…explain what you mean by that?”

“Makes yourself seem interested in the…intricacies, we’ll say, of film. Gives off the impression that you’re an academic. You’re a real film person.”

“Ummm…I do work in academia. I’m an adjunct. It’s what I do on the side.”

Tashi’s eyebrows rise. “Really now? Do you teach film, then?”

“Not right now. That’s the plan for the fall. I’m trying to plan the syllabus out.”

“And you want to talk about auteurs?”

“At some point.”

Tashi leans a little bit more forward in her seat. “Do you think I am an auteur?”

What a complicated question.

“Well…traditionally—”

“I don’t want the traditional answer. What I want to know is if you think I’m an auteur.”

Your mouth is dry. This had to be some sort of trick question. It had to be some trap. Piss off enough people and you’re done for good. Tashi Duncan was a phenomenon and if she wanted to, you could be erased. Hollywood did not provide the environment for solidarity. If one door opened, another door closed. If one movie was a sensation, then any movie that bore a resemblance (a resemblance that wasn’t even a resemblance) to said movie would just become that thing, reduced to that thing, ignored in all of its nuance and creativity and its passion. You lick your lips. “I think…it’s hard to tell.”

“And why is that?”

“Well you just started directing. You have three films and a couple of television episodes. Most of your credits are acting. And auteurship is thought more in terms of directing than acting. If you want to ask if you’re a star, then absolutely you are. But an auteur? I would wait some time. I don’t think three films and some television episodes is enough for an auteur study.” Your heart was pounding miles per hour. You were anxious, on the edge. “I’d want to see what else you’re doing. The landscape is always shifting and naturally, so is your auteurship.”

You can see the way her jaw unclenches. Or clenches? It was hard to tell. She detangles her fingers from one another and leans back into her seat. “If you need to use the script to read the lines—”

“I remember my lines.”

“Well look at you. Well prepared.” Tashi clears her throat. “The set is quiet. Everyone is on edge. She turns to camera 3 and speaks.”

Like a puppet, you speak.

“No, no.” You shake your head, reading the essay. You highlight a portion and then type up your comment on the Canvas page. You’re probably giving the student a heart attack right now, if they have the app on their phone. A constant stream of vibrations as the instructor leaves an annotation on their submission document. You drink your lemonade soda. Blueberry lavender lemonade soda. It was always your go to, along with a cranberry orange loaf slice. It was a small cafe by the college with cheap food and cheaper drinks. Very popular among the students.

“You work a lot, huh?”

You look up from your computer. You’re tempted to close it, but you don’t. You lean back in your seat. “I tried calling you. But you wouldn’t pick up.” Tashi sits down in the seat across from you. Her hand reaches out and she closes the laptop. She doesn’t want to look at your stickers.

“I keep my phone off during the work day. Gets things done easier.”

“You don’t listen to music while working? Or anything of the sort?”

“I do it through my laptop. They have a Spotify desktop app, you know.”

A smirk is curling at the corner of her lips. “You’re quick, I’ll give you that.”

“So, you came to tell me I didn’t get the part? Personally? It’s a lot better than a lot of other people.”

“I read your resume. Couple of extra roles. A role on SVU for three episodes.”

“Doesn’t everyone go through SVU?”

“You’re not wrong. And a couple of short films. One of them critically received. And yet, no credit. No invitation to the award shows.” Tashi shrugs. “Nothing. What’s up with that?”

“What do you think? You work with some white people and a nepo baby. And the nepo baby takes everything that was supposed to go to you. It’s like a more fucked up version of Lena Lamont and Kathy Selden except there’s no retribution and the nepo baby isn’t talented at all but apparently their film is good.”

“You’re a little film critic, huh?”

“If you want to be a good actor, a good filmmaker, generally good in the process, shouldn’t you be a film critic? Lot of the greats got started in film criticism. Lots of people start their career by criticizing and addressing discrepancies.”

“Like what?” Tashi folds her hands and places her chin atop of them.

“Well, this is kind of a basic example. But The Watermelon Woman. Cheryl Dunye notices this discrepancy in old silent films where Black actors were not credited. And if they were, sometimes they'd be credited by a stereotype like The Mammy or, in the case of the pseudo-documentary film, the Watermelon Woman. And in the film, she’s creating an alternate film history that addresses this erasure of Black actresses and particular sapphic, lesbian Black actresses. So what does Dunye do? Make a cornerstone of Black and lesbian cinema.” You shrug.

“And is it on your top four on Letterboxd?”

“It is, yeah. Do you have Letterboxd?”

“I do. It’s a great way to interact with the fans.”

“Like Sean Baker?”

“We follow each other.” She shrugs. “He likes my reviews every once in a while. I enjoy that he talks about his viewing experience for the movies he watches.”

You pick up the small plate and take a bite of your loaf. The sour cranberry cuts through the sweetness, giving you that perfect balance of tartness and sugar. “Well, if that’s all you want to talk about—”

“I’m giving you the part.”

“What?”

You stare at Tashi with disbelief. She pushes her sunglasses up to rest atop of her head. You just realize that she’s wearing a sleeveless black turtleneck. Her cross necklace glimmers in the sunlight. “Me…the part?”

“You gave the best performance. And everyone in Hollywood is a yes man. I don’t want a yes man. I want someone who’s going to engage with my material critically, who understands what I want to achieve. Who has a knowledge of film history.” Tashi pulls out the script from her purse and sets it atop your laptop. It’s quite hefty. “I want notes. I want revisions. Production doesn’t start until next month. So cancel teaching. Find someone to sub in. Maybe a grad student. You’ll be filming a movie instead.”

A movie with me, was what she was really saying.

And you’d be stupid to miss out on this opportunity.

“Yeah…yeah. Of course. Of course!” You were in utter disbelief.

“Tried to call you to tell you that. But you didn’t pick up.” Tashi stands up from her seat. “The movie’s…a bit out there. Little something I’ve been brewing for years. They want to promote it as the next Get Out and Us.” She rolls her eyes. She pulls out a small notebook and scribbles her phone number down, placing it on top of the script. “It’s anything but. Think about it in terms of…exaggerated autobiography mixed with real life tragedy and homages to Dario Argento and taking inspiration from Santa Sangre.”

You weren’t the only cinephile, it seems.

“Yeah,  yeah. That sounds really interesting.” You swallow your own saliva nervously. “I-I’ll come back with notes.”

“Great.” Tashi reaches out. She holds your chin between her fingers and her thumbs wipe away some crumbs on your lips. Your lips explode with heat, her touch leaving tingles. “You better not disappoint me.”

She pulls her hand away too soon.

“I’ll see you in two weeks. My house. I’ll text you the address.”

You watch her walk back to her car, an Astin Martin. She pulls her sunglasses down and gives you one last glance, as if trying to take you in your natural habitat. Was she studying you? Studying your natural self to get a sense of how she would direct you? She turns to face the road and pulls smoothly out of her parking spot.

And that was how you started working with Tashi Duncan.

[polarisjisung]

SELLING MY MOOTS

this looks fun and I've been tagged a few times so ty my loves for the tags mwah ! let's get down to business now !

SUZA ! @suzayaaa

pros | my soulmate fr / down for any and all yap / has some fire storytimes tbh / is a cutie fr / shows me her cute nails and hauls i love

cons | writes super good long fics and never posts them / won't let haey/n be happy / DOESN'T LIKE GO???? OR CHEWING GUM??? / sleeps with slippers on.

price | priceless. not for sale (by enha!)

LONDON ! @winwintea

pros | doggo is adorable ! / the most fire fics to ever exist / is literally chenle / doesn't mind noob roblox tendencies and let's me pull us to our death every 2 seconds / flirts + let's me flirt 24/7 / COOKS 🙏

cons | DOESN'T LIKE GO??? / doesn't support true love 💔

price | london (the city, buy me london and you can have london.) or free ig... not that bothered, depends on the day

J ! @justalildumpling

pros | PRETTIEST EVER !! / never a dry convo 🙂‍↔️ / so inspiring and so so supportive / fellow 04 warrior ! / lwk a fashion icon

cons | literally on the opposite end of the globe :(

price | fund our dream asia trip and maybe I'll consider it... probably not tho !

ANNA ! @chenlezip

pros | MOONWALKER !!! / makes me blush / matches your energy fr and is super easy and fun to talk to !

cons | doesn't appreciate nct feet unit i wanted to make :/

price | bring 127 (or any other kpop group fr) to the uk and abolish the squeaking on the tube 😾

LOTTIE ! @lotties-readings

pros | SO SMART!!! / literally speaks every language under the sun it's so fascinating / we can talk about random/nerdy stuff w no shame ! / has a fire tea collection / gives show recs and they're so good now I'm addicted

cons | dyes her hair like she's taeyong and has a scalp made of steel...

price | £100000000000000000000000000000000000

TRICKY ! @thatsatricky1

pros | makes fun memes / has super good and unique posts / SO SMART AND HARDWORKING !!! / conversation flows so well and it's always so comfortable to talk!

cons | none ! an absolute sweetheart

price | 1 bitcoin (idk how much that is but I'm pretty sure it's a LOTTT!)

every time I do moot games I realise I don't actually talk to half of my moots... guys ily I'm just a big wuss and suck at social interaction

[meazalykov]

redirection headcannons & backgrounds

esmee brugts x reader series

this is just to give more background on the series

part one

what happened to you that prevented you from being called up to the 2023 women's world cup, something briefly discussed in the prologue and in chapter twelve?

november 2021, you were coming back to the nwsl after the October uswnt friendlies against south korea. it was another match day with washington spirit. you went out to breakfast with kelley, trinity, and ashley, you broke in your new navy blue cleats to prevent blisters on your feet. to you, it couldn't be more normal for an away game.

washington spirit vs. chicago red stars.

in the 71st minute, it was 1-1. this was during the time where you were a left-winger instead of the attacking midfielder you are now. o'hara passed the ball over to you after kingsbury, the washington goalkeeper, passed the ball to her. being known for your dribbling, you easily made your way around the midfield before you heard trinity call for a pass. when your foot turned to cross the ball for trin to get the header, tierna--who played for chicago at the time-- mistimed her side tackle.

you were okay, standing up after sitting on the grass for forty-five seconds , but that tackle took the wind out of you. in the 74th minute, the ball landed in a free space when your feet ran to gain possession of the ball. when milazzo, chicago's right winger, knocked her body into you-- your knee popped and you fell with a scream. tatum was quick to apologize once she realized the situation, but the pain in your leg ripped among your body. you knew what happened, you knew your acl was torn, you didn't want to get up since you were so ashamed of this happening to you.

january 2023, 14 months later, you were cleared to play again. not only was it your acl, but your mcl took a hit too. in your mind, you wanted to get back to the pitch in order to tryout for the women's world cup happening eight months later. vlako knew about your past injury by the time roster choices were happening in march, and didn't feel like you were ready to play on the club and national level.

of course you would've been the first choice, but ashley went instead of you.

the netherlands and the uswnt have a ton of history, have esmee and you ever debated about it?

yes. you and esmee have had a mini debate about the 2019 women's world cup. a match that you've seen live when your family went on vacation in france. esmee joked about the us, "being lucky" in that world cup final--- while you've jokingly bragged about seeing raphinoes iconic celebration in person.

you asked esmee what would she do the next time the united states would have a friendly, or a serious match, against the netherlands.

esmee's response, "the netherlands would beat the united states, duh?"

"you wish!" you laughed back.

what are your weaknesses?

injuries. you hate them, your acl/mcl injury took you out of the world cup-- something you dreamed of playing in.

you understand that you have a chance to go to the olympics in 2024, but you need to learn to get over the past and that you would've lost the knockout round if you were australia anyways.

^ you could say that not accepting the past for how it happened is another weakness.

another one of your weaknesses is not accepting help. sometimes, you believe that you can multitask or handle more than you can (this will be shown in future chapters). not asking for help catches up to you.

what is esmee's weaknesses?

the ability to speak up about something that is bothering her, or if she wants something in general.

at times, esmee will stay quiet about a toxic fan online, shut down after making a mistake on the pitch, and can be like you when it comes to not asking for help. in future chapters, this conflict will be shown.

in chapter nine, your teammates joke about you being committed to someone. why?

in early high school (freshmen-sophomore year), you thought you had feelings for a guy that was interested in you. of course you appreciated his gifts, his compliments, and talking to him. over time, you realized that you liked the thought of someone doing that for you-- not him for himself.

it took a while before you've realized that you weren't bisexual like you've assumed for most of your life. you were a lesbian forced in comphet.

you got cheated on in your first relationship with a girl. it happened to be with your old best friend. she was your best friend your entire life but your girlfriend from junior year-the middle of your senior year. not being able to accept the past for what it was, you've gained a sort of anxious-attachment style.

after being signed with washington spirit straight out of high school, skipping your college eligibility. you had multiple talking stages, flings, and crushes all at once. at washington, it became a joke in the dressing room, which quickly spread to the national team, about you never being able to commit to anybody.

the jokes were funny at first, until you realized how it deeply affected you. eight months before barcelona fully reached out for a contract, you went into therapy and finally sorted your anxious-attachment problem out.

is there an age difference between esmee and you?

yes, esmee is six months older than you. she was born in July 2003-- you were born January 2004.

being more outspoken than your shy dutch girlfriend, many people would assume that you were the older or dominant one in the relationship. however, esmee takes the lead most of the time.

similarities and differences between you and esmee's play styles on the pitch:

similarities: dribbling techniques, speed, creative abilities, adaptability to different positions, beautiful headers.

esmee's differences: she has more composure on the ball. she uses the entire pitch in-order to create spaces for her club and national teammates. she can defend as well as attack.

your differences: you're more aggressive and intimating to opponents. you have more tactical intelligence in tight spaces. you're known for having great peripheral vision when making passes. some would say that you have the best finishing in women's football for just being twenty years old.

besides esmee, who else are you close to at barcelona?

aitana has taken you under her wing, since you're a midfielder that resembles her playing technique. she will never tell you this, but she wanted you to come to the ballon d'or ceremony--not because of your place at #20 on the ranking-- but she genuinely believes that you will win one someday.

vicky loves teasing you. especially when esmee is involved. the teenager is a few years younger than you, but she makes you feel so young in the best way possible. whenever you need to have fun or have a bit of humor in your life-- you call vicky.

mapi is someone you're comfortable talking to about anything. she is injured during most of the beginning of the 23/24 season, but she has a personality that clicks with yours. mapi is like your older sister, while ingrid is like esmee's older sister. the couple is like another version of you and esmee-- just more established.

alexia, jana, salma, and keira are players you're close with too.

more head cannons coming soon!!!

chapters here

[starlostfish]

Alrighty, first off, i wanted to make some basic redesigns for this au lolol i never drawn armor before sorry!

Why i called this au status effect related? 

Although i have half baked plans for the other status effects (poison, frostbite, death blight etc.) This au focuses primarily on 4 status effects (for now) with a few elden ring concepts mixed in. I’ll do my best to explain when it comes up!

Also with some of the elden ring related lore, i used SOME unused lore for this au so plz don’t take this as a 100% accurate interpretation ㅠㅠ

Also also in this AU Shido is a puppet leader and yaldaboth is this worlds hidden leader/king(?) atm

Ren and Goro are travel companions, trying to take the throne (they’re united by a goal but hiding their true agendas from each other lol)

ok heres the info dump/ramblings: Warning, its a lot lol

Goro- has control over a power/concept called the Frenzied flame

The Frenzied Flame is pure chaos incarnate in Elden Ring. It is a unrelenting force that seeks to melt everything, to  “Incinerate all that divides and distinguishes”  through the spread of madness/chaos. Basically a contagious mind virus that could empower a person while also making them go insane. If you can even slightly tame it you will be rewarded with the strength of chaos itself.

When a person accepts The Frenzied flame into themselves, they get these weird finger print markings/scars on your body (goro was “grabbed” by the Frenzied flame) and their eyes start having a yellow glow to them. The frenzied flame is stored in a persons eyes, even shootings out of their eyes when wielded (Like this!)

Ren has control over sleep to a degree and could see into dreams. (But his true power/strength is sealed away…)

Sleep is acts differently in this world. There’s normal sleep and other types of sleep, sleep you can control/wield.

 In Rens case, he has power over a special type of sleep, A sleep that does more than restore the body and its energy. This sleep feels like a gentle embrace that takes away turmoil, even dulling the senses to an extent , preventing agitation to give a feeling of true peace & clarity. The type of sleep that could actually temporarily quell madness and frenzy..

The other is more straightforward. It’s called eternal sleep. im sure you can guess what that does lol.

Ren is like a spectral, he can be interacted with, seen and touched BUT he doesn’t have a living body, meaning even if you “kill” him he’ll just reappear. 

Also he can just choose to appear/disappear (like this!)

Extra incoherent ramblings below:

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

Goro makes himself psychotic in p5 and in elden ring you can make yourself a lot stronger by literally inflicting yourself with madness. I thought Goro would probably be angry/crazy enough to adopt the Frenzied flame, annnnd having the Frenzied flame is said to be pretty painful but also euphoric(?) and that kinda sound like its up Goros alley lol. Also (I just remembered this!) IN GOROS 3RD AWAKENING, HE SAID HE’D “SOW CHAOS AS FAR AS THE EYE CAN SEE” AND THE SAYING ASSOCIATED WITH THE FRENZIED FLAME IS “MAY CHAOS TAKE THE WORLD”

There is so much sleep symbolism/sleeps connections to death in persona sooo I thought it made sense to make Ren the one who has control over sleep /𝓓⃥̸𝓮⃥̸𝓼⃥̸𝓽⃥̸𝓲⃥̸𝓷⃥̸𝓮⃥̸𝓭⃥̸𝓓⃥̸𝓮⃥̸𝓪⃥̸𝓽⃥̸𝓱⃥̸

Also sleep and madness have matching icons lolol that’s definitely not the main reason I thought of this au…lolol…

Sleep is one of the few things that could temporarily alleviate madness and the Frenzied flames influence. Ren is trying to help(save) Goro, while also struggling with the fact that he was supposed to kill anyone who has the Frenzied flame since it can kinda end the world, and the fact that he’s the only one who has the power to do it.

Meanwhile Goro just wants revenge and the power to make him as strong as possible and to make the revenge as painful as possible. Unfortunately that power is also slowly making him lose his mind and take a lot of effort to keep under wraps. Goro is very very exhausted but as you’d expect, spite keeps him going lol

- 

The cure to madness: okay.. im still working on how to make sense of this and I WILL expand on it later on, but just know it involves kasumi, sumire and maruki. The angst will be strong with this one lol

The status effects they’ll be associated with is

yoshizawas sisters:Scarlet Rot

Maruki: Heart stolen

Theres A LOT more but i feel like this is enough for today lol

i really really hope this makes sense lol If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask! Im open to answer anything about this au lolol