Middle_Ans

So, what can I say, take care of yourself, not about random me on the internet that much.

I dunno, I have such bizarre mixed feelings, I was supposed to come watch the launch with my mum and tell her about my doctor’s visit today, but I just couldn’t bring myself to say a word when she was so happy (I mean red bull was booed, she had a time of her life) so that was a moment when I decided I probably won’t tell anybody anything cause why burden people you love and care about

That melted me soooo bad, in best way, the moment I saw them clutching each other, George’s HEY THERE ripped shirt, holy moly, they’re making babies tonight, they wouldn’t even know someone got booed

Great, that’s fantastic, that’s one of the greatest things from tonight, and FIA was booed, and Horner was booed, and max was booed, and he would’ve been booed if he had some balls saying one single word on that stage, and this is the most right public statement for that shit of a team - to be loudly booed, because if you’re being an absolute jerk, an idiot, a walking threat on the paddock, a racist, a homophobe, an abuser, and more more words in line I can put in to describe that ‘men’, you should be booed whenever you decide to go out and grab some snacks for your stupid deranged ass, you shouldn’t breathe for one second without feeling that pressure, so yeah, thank you London for balancing the scales of justice a bit, I enjoyed it very much

But whatever, not dying before at least putin or trump does, these assholes before me

My pray is, good lord (I’m not even religious but) if I’m destined to relive my own fic ideas, please don’t send the laundry one on my way, I won’t sell pussy for peonies 🙏🏻😭

In any of these universes I would surely kiss your cheek, because this is touching beyond my empathetic capacity, I’m melting and purring and rubbing on it RESPECTFULLY and saying meow and pet me more pretty precious please

But isn’t it a vision, right? Prince George, George of Monaco, and my all-time favourite Miserable George who fights for getting his life back in Hollywood where he lived and shone. Ah, and Lewis being this man appearing in crimson from the blur of Monaco dawn and holding out his hand, begging George to come back. The longing, the yearning, the years of playing their roles like they haven’t been in love for as long as they know each other.

Anyway, I think this lambada with jumping between genres and plots and AUs just makes some things to my brain. I had this blurred vision of this idea some time ago, and now that I’ve completed it in my head I’m sitting like a polite parrot ‘wooo this is a finished fic’. Squawk. 🦜

It was actually so sweet but it wrecked me like a train on full speed, because I got a photoshoot in a dress with my whole back on display, open, bare, with no makeup or skin patches on my transplanted skin there, so the first 30 minutes I was weeping with a girl who was a photographer and she said like one billion times ‘you’re so beautiful’ and then we realised that ruined face makeup will actually be wild for these pictures so that’s what it was. I mean, I knew it would break me because when I only thought about cutting my hair a few months ago and leaving this whole *situation* on display this summer, I was on a brink of panic attack, I have almost a waist length hair and I hide under it, and nooow there I was like tadaaah look that’s a burnt chicken right here!!