#but George was just way too eager and lost it

[milaeth]

୨୧┊ 𝐈. 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒. ( charles leclerc )

ꖛ ─ you’re reading part one ∿ part two ∿ part three ( coming soon )

✧.* pairings ─ charles leclerc x fem! singer! reader

✧.* genre ─ social media au ⨾ fluff & chaotic

✧.* summary ─ in which your best friend George gets fed up with watching you and Charles secretly yearn for each other while claiming to be just friends. so, when you lose a bet to George, he takes control of your social media accounts for 24 hours, using the opportunity to help you make a move on your crush.

✧.* face claim ─ suki waterhouse

✧.* warnings ─ none, this is just really chaotic lol

✧.* mily’s thoughts ─ this is my first time writing a social media au so pls give me feedback! also, this is not proofread! btw feel free to leave requests <33

˗ˏ ➶ IMESSAGE ➜ w/ princess george . ✧ ˚

princess george: You know what, y/n?

y/n: no

princess george: I have the feeling that i’m gonna get a podium today!

y/n: what made you think that💀 not to crush your dreams princess, but i heavily doubt that

princess george: Wow, you’re so supportive. Why should I not be able to get a podium??

y/n: keyword: shitty car

princess george: Oh, yeah, I forgot about that… But i don’t care, i will manifest it (that’s what you always do, isn’t it?)

y/n: yeah sure..

princess george: You don’t believe me? Fine! Let’s make a bet then.

y/n: it’s way too early for this shit

princess george: Blahblahblah🙄

y/n: 💀 george i’m busy

princess george: Busy writing sad love songs about Charles or what??

y/n: …

princess george: Exactly. Now let’s do this!

y/n: why are you so eager to make this bet

princess george: Oh I just want to rub in your face that I was right afterwards

y/n: lovely.. but fine, start talking ig

princess george: Finally!

princess george: I predict that i’m gonna finish P3. Your prediction?

y/n: p11❤️

princess george: And now realistically…

y/n: p6

princess george: Thanks.

y/n: and what are the drawbacks?

princess george: I don’t know, maybe the loser has to hand over their main social media accounts to the winner for 24 hours. The loser isn’t allowed to use their main accounts in that time, only their private ones.

y/n: absolutely not

princess george: Aww you’re a scaredy cat?

y/n: no i just don’t trust you with my social media accounts💀

princess george: Okay fair enough

princess george: But c’mon, it’s gonna be fun! Only for 24h

y/n: fine but the winner can’t post anything too bad

princess george: Sure, sure. So, deal?

y/n: deal! and good luck (i hope you dnf)

princess george: Lovely as always

[ seen 12:03pm ]

georgerussell63

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 1,056,386 others

georgerussell63 P3!!!! We keep on moving🔥🔥

view all 649 comments…

user471 was a close call but congratulations!

user172 carlos deserved it more, you literally pushed him off

user93 he didn’t push carlos off but okay💀

user425 so happy for you!

user65 it should’ve been carlos

charles_leclerc congrats on p3 mate!!🔥

georgerussell63 Congratulations on P2! I nearly got you, watch your back next time😉

charles_leclerc let’s highlight the word “nearly”😉

user976 so happy to see you on the podium again🫶

yourusername still convinced you bewitched half of the grid to let you pass them

georgerussell63 Creative but no, I just had a great motivation😊😊

˗ˏ ➶ IMESSAGE ➜ w/ princess george . ✧ ˚

princess george: Well well well, look who lost our bet…

y/n: 😐

princess george: C’mon give me the password to all your main accounts so i can log in😁

y/n: what if i were suicidal.

princess george: Honestly sounds like a you problem.

y/n: fuck you.

princess george: Still waiting for the passwords😊

y/n: fine, but remember, only for 24 hours!

princess george: Yeah, yeah. Now give them to me.

y/n: … insta is “503_UedusEiotSrk03” & twitter is “eZiyjDbbvwKi_zu_14806”

princess george: Damn, those are some ugly passwords!

y/n: are you seriously judging my PASSWORDS rn💀💀

[ seen 4:20pm ]

scuderiaferrari

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername and 1,385,052 others

scuderiaferrari That’s ice cold🧊🥶 #F1 #P2 #Charles16

tagged: charles_leclerc

view all 6,175 comments…

user47 dayuumm🤭

user21 no one could ever get me into one of those things😭

yourusername That’s a sight I could get used to🥵🔥

landonorris don’t ever say or write that again.

urusername_alt🔒 @yourusername you really make me want to kms

yourusername @urusername_alt🔒 Aw, appreciate it❤️😉

landonorris y/n have you officially lost it?? why are you talking to yourself💀

user275 did we all see that or am i crazy💀

user164 yep we all saw that💀💀

yourusername

liked by zendaya, bellahadid, charles_leclerc and 18,364,187 others

yourusername "eyes that confess, while lips whisper 'just friends.'" my new single “just friends” is out now!!🤍 (yes, another single about my crush😘)

view all 369,270 comments…

user937 THIS IS SO GOOD AND HEARTBREAKING WTF

lewishamilton already on repeat🔥

user25 i cried my eyes out to this.

landonorris this is a BANGER

user12 how is this so cute yet so sad💀

˗ˏ ➶ IMESSAGE ➜ w/ princess george . ✧ ˚

y/n: HPW COULD YOU

y/n: I GO TO BED AND THIS IS WHAT YOU DO??

princess george: i have no idea what you’re talking about.

y/n: OH PLEASE YOU KNOW DAMN WELL WHAT YOU DID

princess george: Uhmmm nope.

y/n: YOU POSTED ONE OF MY DRAFTS

y/n: AND NOT JUST ANY DRAFT

y/n: NO, YOU POSTED THE ONE ABT MY SINGLE💀

y/n: IM GETTING EMAILS FROM MY PR TEAM BC I WAS SUPPOSED TO POST THAT ON TUESDAY

princess george: Oh, yeah, my finger slipped🫢🫢

y/n: your finger must’ve slipped multiple times then bc the caption is somehow a different one💀 not to forget the twitter thing

princess george: Oops?

princess george: Besides, I only added one sentence.

y/n: are you fucking serious

princess george: It was an accident.

y/n: ACCIDENT MY ASS YOU EMBARRASSED ME IN FRONT OF EVERYONE!!! AND TOLD PEOPLE ITS ABOUT CHARLES WTF

princess george: To be fair that was predictable when we set the rules to this bet. And I didn’t directly say the single is about charles.

y/n: you did directly say that💀

y/n: istg i’m gonna beat you up the next time i see you

princess george: Should I be worried..?

y/n: definitely.

y/n: you give me so many seasons to kill you. this is literally the 19th one

princess george: Make it 20…

y/n: george. what do you mean.

princess george: I might’ve given you another season. On accident!!

princess george: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cu-IkZstViy/?img_index=1

y/n: oh no

f1wags

163,948 likes

f1wags Love is in the air, and our radar has picked up some juicy rumors! It seems like the friendship between the singer Y/N L/N and Charles Leclerc is turning into something more than just a casual relationship. Get ready for the scoop as we take a closer look at the blossoming relationship between these two stars!

Y/N and Charles first crossed paths through their mutual friend George Russell, but it seems their connection has deepened over time. On late Sunday, Y/N dropped a bombshell by announcing her upcoming single to her social media followers, accompanied by a captivating caption. The last sentence read, "another single about my crush😘," which made fans curious and hopeful for more.

The plot thickened when Y/N responded to a tweet and saying that the song was indeed inspired by her "bae," none other than talented Formula 1 driver Charles Leclerc. The revelation left followers shaking with excitement, and it's clear that the connection between the two goes deeper than mere friendship.

But that's not all! Observant watchers have noticed the undeniable chemistry between Y/N and Charles, catching glimpses of their interactions when they thought no one was watching. Ah, the power of love! Charles might have forgotten that the public has eyes everywhere, but we certainly haven't missed a beat.

The burning question on everyone's mind is: what's behind their friendship? Is it just a playful crush or something much more intense? Could Y/N L/N be a new f1 wag? Time will tell, but for now we can't help but root for this potential power couple.

So stay tuned, gossip lovers, because there's more to come from Y/N L/N and Charles Leclerc. Whether it's a steamy romance or just a close friendship, we'll be here keeping our eyes peeled for any hint of what's going on behind the scenes. Love may be a game of mystery, but they've forgotten that we're experts at unraveling the truth. Keep your eyes open, folks!

view all 33,647 comments…

user79 y’all really don’t know how to mind your own business

user943 why are people making such a big deal out of this like they’re just friends and y/n was probably just drunk or smth when she said those things🙄🙄 ITS NOT THAT SERIOUS!!

user27 you guys really don’t have a life huh💀

user375 who tf is this blondie

user50 girl stfu that’s literally my wife

user697 AAAA i really hope this is real bc they’re so cute💖

˗ˏ ➶ IMESSAGE ➜ w/ princess george . ✧ ˚

y/n: 💀💀💀

princess george: I’m starting to feel bad now..

y/n: good, you should💀

y/n: i’m gonna apologize to charles now

princess george: Why, It’s not your fault.

y/n: you’re right, it’s yours. but you said all those things with my account so it looks like it’s my fault lol

princess george: I’m really sorry, I took it a little far!

y/n: a little is good💀 but dw it’s okay, i know you only meant it jokingly, i’ll tell everyone it was you and not me once the 24 hours are over

princess george: 👍 Good luck talking to Charles. And don’t forget to confess to him before I do it for you😉😉

[ seen 1:24pm ]

∿ people who might want to get tagged ─ @81astri @cs55version @lorarri ( my taglist if you want to get tagged in my works )

don’t forget to like, comment & reblog (it’s very much appreciated <3).

© milaeth | 2023

#·˚ ༘ ☕️ — mily’s writings ! #formula one #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one fanfiction #formula one x reader #f1 driver imagines #f1 driver x reader #f1 driver x you #formula one x y/n #social media au #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x y/n #imagine

[valleyof-goldenlilies]

Se Zaldrizoti’ Prumia - Chapter 6: The Secrets of The Red Keep (Daemon Targaryen x Tyrell!Reader)

Chapter 6: The Secrets of The Red Keep 

In the Red Keep, it’s not just the rats that creep, but secrets too. And in the game of thrones, secrets kill as much as rats carrying plague do.

Se Zaldrīzoti' Prūmia Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | 

HOTD Masterlist | Main Masterlist | 

Warnings: Lots of stuff happening, Viserys being an L as always, Y/N being kind of an ass, slow burnnnnnnnnnn

Word Count: 7.7k words (so. much. is. happening.) 

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire and Blood characters, save for Y/N Tyrell, although I did expand on their characterisation, which might deviate from canon. All credit for the characters goes to George RR Martin and the showrunners of HOTD. The GIF above is also not mine, original credit to the creator is stated above. Go check them out! 

A/N: Here it is, you guys! I’m so sorry it came later than expected 😭 and that it is much longer than expected too. But I snuck in a Daemon cameo at the end so 😁 I hope you guys enjoy! 

lovely dividers courtesy of @firefly-graphics​ !

It was drawing nigh six months since Prince Daemon’s disinheritance and subsequent departure to Dragonstone. All across the realm, winter had reached its end, and flecks of green have begun dotting the bare trees once more. The smallfolk’s chatter and laughter grew gradually in abundance, as with spring always comes the promise of new beginnings. 

The nobles too, harboured the hope for new beginnings. Gowns and coats of fur were swapped out for attire of lighter fabrics, and the misery caused by the chill of winter were replaced with eager ambition to propel themselves into the centre of power. And no one seemed to exemplify that more than the Lady Y/N Tyrell. 

Gone was the devoted, yet somewhat prickly and brash lady-in-waiting of the late Queen. In its place, was someone much changed. Where in the past she had served Queen Aemma, these days, she was akin to a second shadow to the Princess Rhaenyra, heir to the Iron Throne, even moreso than her usual companion, the Lady Alicent. The kinder whispers expressed gladness that the Lady Y/N had taken pity on the Princess, who had lost her mother at such a young age, and had stepped up as a maternal figure in an act of benevolence. The more vicious gossips, however, sniggered that mayhaps Lady Y/N had been possessed by the spirit of a particularly determined leech. “The rose sinks its thorns into another dragon after one passes,” they mocked. 

All these whispers you heard, but you simply did not possess the means to care. ‘Words are wind,’ you scoffed to yourself. Although…Tis’ true you were leveraging on your close connections with the Princess…but it was for self preservation. With Aemma and Daemon gone, you had gotten close to Rhaenyra, becoming something akin of a mother figure to her, which made your influence at court grow exponentially. Having the favour of the heir to the throne was a powerful thing, and you intended to use it to serve your own means. However, you couldn’t shake off your feeling of guilt for using Rhaenyra this way. You oft wondered if Aemma would approve of you doing so if she was still alive. But if she were…then there would have been no need for you to do this. You swallowed down the painful lump in your throat. It doesn’t matter now, you told yourself sternly. The dead are the dead, as Daemon said, and as long as you were alive, you would do whatever it takes to make sure you stayed at the Red Keep. 

You arrived at the castle sept, where Rhaenyra was standing to the side while Alicent was kneeling in the midst of prayer. You curtsied to Rhaenyra, whose face lit up as soon as she saw you, though it did little to lighten the visible gloom on her face. 

“Your Grace,” you greeted softly. “I told you so many times that you should call me by my name, Y/N,” Rhaenyra chided softly. You smiled apologetically, “Apologies, it is a force of habit.” Rhaenyra smiled wistfully, “You always called me by my name when Mother was…” her voice trailed off and her head drooped. You tilted your head in Alicent’s direction, “You’re not praying?” Rhaenyra hesitated, “I must confess that I’ve never really prayed before..” 

You smiled, guiding her to where Alicent was kneeling. “Well, no time to begin like the present, then.” You took notice of the figure she was praying to: The Mother. How fitting. 

Kneeling down next to Alicent, you felt Rhaenyra tentatively do so next to you. Alicent offered the both of you candles, and you showed Rhaenyra how to light them. The three of you knelt there in silence for a while, minds occupied with your own vastly different thoughts. “I find…” Alicent spoke gingerly, “That this is a way to be with my mother. Here in the quiet of the sept.” She hesitates, looking back at the statue of the Mother. “Does it sound foolish?” 

“I don’t think it sounds foolish,” Rhaenyra piped up next to you. 

Alicent smiled at that, before turning to you, observing how your eyes were watching the figure of the Mother pensively. “Do you pray often, Y/N?” You smiled wistfully, “Piety was never one of my stronger suits, I’m afraid. But I remember…when I lost my lady mother, I prayed day and night that I wouldn’t be sent back to Highgarden.” 

“You disliked your home?” Rhaenyra asked softly. You pondered over her question, before shaking your head slightly. “To me, Highgarden never really felt like home. Perhaps it was because I had been born and raised in the Red Keep for most of my days, but I consider King’s Landing to be my only home.” You didn’t tell her that it was the looming threat of your duties as the sole daughter of House Tyrell that kept you from recognising Highgarden as your home. Rhaenyra nodded sagely. 

“I’m…I’m afraid I’m not quite sure what to pray to the Mother for,” Rhaenyra hesitantly says, “Should I pray for anything specific?” You smiled wistfully, “You only need to follow your heart. The Gods will listen to you if your sincerity can be felt.” Alicent nodded in agreement, and the three of you lapsed into silence once more, praying on your own. You closed your eyes, and Aemma flashed into your memories. She was always smiling at you then, and your heart ached deeply whenever you remembered her. 

“...the day of the tourney,” Alicent and Rhaenyra turned to you inquisitively, as you took a deep breath, letting the scent of the smoke sooth you, “I told you I was never religious, but that day…I prayed to the Mother fervently. For your mother, for Aemma to have a smooth labour.” You smiled bitterly, “But it seemed, the gods had a different plan for your mother.” 

Rhaenyra sniffled softly. “It feels refreshing to hear you talk about my mother,” she admits after a pause. “No one, not even Father, seems to want to talk about her. They always change the subject. It’s like her memory is something unpleasant. Something to be avoided..” 

You took her hand, feeling as though you might cry yourself. “The subject is painful,” she continues, “But I don’t want to forget. I don’t want anyone to forget. I cannot bear for my mother to only be spoken about in riddles and hushed tones. I want to remember her…I just don’t understand why Father doesn’t seem to want to.” 

Alicent glanced at the both of you, biting her lip softly. “When my mother died…my father and brother wanted to forget about her too. And admittedly, I did too.” You put your other hand on Alicent’s, and she smiled ruefully at you. “I hid my grief, trying to continue with my life with the same bravery my father and brother had…but I found myself unable to. So the sept is my refuge. It’s where I can express my grief without feeling like it’s something to be ashamed of.” 

“Grieving is nothing to be ashamed of,” you told her gently, “Grief is what keeps the memory of a person alive, even if they’ve long passed. To remember what kind of person they were to you, and to honour how they made you who you were now. Grief does a service to our loved ones who have passed.” 

Rhaenyra smiled bitterly, “I think Father needs to hear that.” You smiled at that, patting her hand softly, “Everyone grieves in their way, Rhaenyra. You might not see it, but I’m sure your father mourns your mother too, though it may be in a way different to yours.” 

Rhaenyra pondered on that, turning her gaze back to the candles. “...mayhaps you’re right.” You squeezed her hand, and she squeezed it back. You turned to look at Alicent, and she grasped your hand tightly in hers, her expression warm. Though getting close to both of them was naught but a political machination initially…you found yourself growing to care more and more for these two girls everyday. So different we all are, you thought to yourself, yet so similar we are too. You turned back to the Mother, as you said one last prayer to her, “I hope…that the three of us can always be like this. That no matter what, when the world seems bleak…we can all be truthful with one another, and depend on each other.” 

It has been six months, but you find that you are still unable to school your features into absolute indifference as you watch Viserys digging into his meal with a notable lack of enthusiasm. 

Pursing your lips, you focused your attention back onto cutting into the veal on your plate. Ever since Aemma’s death, you had been hesitant in seeking out Viserys’ company voluntarily, despite Daemon having advised you to take the opportunity to get close to Viserys for protection. Out of all of Daemon’s advice you had reluctantly heeded, this one unsettled you the most. But as it turned out, you had not needed to make the first move. Viserys had (quite unfortunately) taken to summoning you to his apartments more oft than not in the past six months for meals, or even just for idle conversation. And the usual topic of conversation? The late wife that Viserys had cut open. You would find it funny if the topic itself did not constantly make you want to hurl something at Viserys. Viserys seemed determined to cling onto the vestiges of Aemma’s memory through you, Aemma’s cherished companion. Although after today’s conversation at the sept, you found it strange that Viserys seemed reluctant to broach the topic of Aemma with Rhaenyra, but with you, it was different. Why exactly was it so, you did not know, but…as long as it kept you at the Red Keep, then you would stomach as many conversations as Viserys wanted to have about Aemma. 

Which was why you nearly dropped your fork when Viserys asked you if you knew about Daemon’s current occupation of Dragonstone. Clearing your throat, you deliberated on the reason for the sudden change of topic, but quickly answered, “It would be a miracle if someone had not heard about that.” Viserys chuckles, a rare deviation from his usual melancholic mood during your dinners. “As always, you are unfettered in your nature of speaking. I only wished more people would be like you.” 

You were unsure on how to respond to that. Viserys sighed, “It would not be such a bother if it had been only Daemon on the island, but he had to take nearly half the City Watch with him as well. Does he truly desire to wage war against me, his own brother? With that meagre army of his?” You recalled Daemon’s words that fateful night, and bit your lip. So this was what he meant. You knew that with Daemon’s abscondence along the City Watch, King’s Landing had became more susceptible to looting, raping and other violent crimes. The Small Council was oft engaged in heavy debate as of late on how to tackle this problem, and that must have been Daemon’s plan all along. To sow chaos in King’s Landing. You sighed, cutting into your veal. Daemon…he may not look it, but there is always a certain calculative edge to his seemingly impulsive actions. The promise to make a point. 

“I’ve half a mind to go to Dragonstone and confront him myself,” you snapped back to reality when you heard Viserys bang down his cutlery frustratedly. “If the Small Council had not dissuaded me otherwise, I would’ve done so.” You grimace, “Viserys, that would be unwise. You and I both know more than anyone of Daemon’s nature. He means to continue throwing this…tantrum so that he may garner your attention. You shouldn’t pay heed to his antics. Mayhaps he will come to his senses sooner or late.” 

“Mayhaps is a strange word for never,” Viserys muttered, picking up his fork and knife again. You stifled a laugh by lifting another spoonful of soup to your lips. “Regardless, it would not be fitting for you to go to Dragonstone. What would the realm say, seeing their king having to go and plead with his brother to curb his foolishness? The dissenters will see it as weakness, as they did with Aenys and Maegor. You should listen to your advisors’ counsel, Viserys.” Viserys sighed, leaning back against his seat. “I suppose you’re right. However; this leaves me at a bind on what to do with him. Lord Corlys has been singing this wretched tune for nigh six months, and he will continue to do so if I do not act soon to put Daemon in his place.”

The two of you lapsed into silence. You picked at the remaining veal on your plate anxiously. “And other than the mounting pressure to deal with Daemon, the Small Council, in particular Lord Corlys, has also been pushing me on the subject of remarriage.” You froze. “...remarriage?” Your heart was pounding furiously, having not expected this sudden turn of events. You knew it would be expected of Viserys to do so, to secure the line of succession, but he always seemed so catatonic in grief over Aemma that you thought he would never take a second wife. Moreover, should his new wife sire him sons, Rhaenyra’s claim would surely be disputed by the lords of the realm. Viserys nodded wearily, “Lord Corlys has even nominated a candidate, his own daughter, Lady Laena.” 

You wrinkled your nose, “Isn’t she naught but a girl of 12?” Viserys sighed, “Indeed. Much too young…though it seems not for Lord Corlys’ ambition.” You felt your appetite slip away at that. “And what do you think of this match?” Viserys smiles ruefully, “I was actually looking to hear your opinions. You always speak with unbridled truth, and it would do me good to hear from an unbiased perspective.” 

You purse your lips, surprised. He was asking for your opinion an awful lot these days. “If you’re seeking counsel on the qualities of Lady Laena, I must confess I do not have a clearly formed opinion. But speaking from a political perspective…it would be an advantageous match for both houses. It would join both of your houses of Valyrian blood in one once more.” Viserys lets out a soft snort, “Advantageous? Lord Corlys and my cousin only proposed this match to put their own blood on the throne. They care not for the unity of our houses. Lord Corlys only wishes to see a king of Velaryon blood on the Iron Throne, and to correct the slight that Rhaenys faced at the Great Council.” 

“Be that as it may,” you interjected, “You cannot deny it is a brilliant match. Is it not better to join the blood of the dragon in one single line again? This will prevent any more dragonriders from emerging from House Velaryon, and consolidate the power of House Targaryen in a single bloodline once more.” You were startled when Viserys suddenly let out a bark of laughter, “You know, you sound exactly like Daemon. With how the both of you are constantly stressing about the importance of retaining the power of House Targaryen.” You froze, feeling offended, but then the indignation fades away. It wasn’t entirely a bad thing, after all, Daemon was the person who had opened your eyes to the naivety that blinded you from seeing reason in your grief. Instead of feeling insulted, you felt like you should feel…proud? You shuddered, the thought of being proud thanks to sharing qualities with Daemon fucking Targaryen of all people being too much to bear. 

Viserys lets out a slow exhale, looking regretful. “All this talk of remarriage sickens me,” Viserys mutters. “Because despite all this quibbling, nothing will ever come close to Aemma. I do not wish to replace her. I imagine she will be deeply upset at the thought of it.” 

You frowned, holding back the urge to shout at Viserys why he had chosen to cut Aemma open if that were the case. But alas, the truth oft can never be expressed freely. You took several deep breaths, formulating a response in your head, as you spoke gently, “Remarriage may seem daunting, Viserys, but it is inevitable. It is your duty to the realm, and I’m sure Aemma will understand that.” Viserys sighs before laughing softly, “I suppose you’re right, Y/N. Duty is inescapable, especially when you’re a king. Very well, I shall arrange to see Lady Laena to discuss a possible betrothal as soon as possible.” 

You did not know what to feel about that, happy? Aggrieved? Angry? “That reminds me,” Viserys spoke up, getting out of his seat and walking to you. You watched him curiously as he fumbled in his pockets to draw something out. “I…think that you should have this.” Your eyes widened when you saw that he was holding the ruby falcon necklace that Rhaenyra had gotten Aemma. “The Silent Sisters retrieved this from Aemma. I’ve held onto it for the past six months but,” Viserys smiled bitterly, “I felt like it would only be right for you to have this. Aemma was as dear to you as much as she was to me, and with my remarriage…I do not think it is right for me to hold on to it anymore.” You took the necklace gingerly and cradled it in your hands, feeling torn. Viserys put a hand on your shoulder gently, “Let this serve as not just a token of remembrance for Aemma…but also as one of gratitude. From me towards you for your counsel, steadfast loyalty, and friendship. I want you to know that despite how bereft I am over Aemma’s passing, I am thankful that you have continued to stay by my side.” Conflict consumed you as you looked up at your old friend. You thought you hated him for doing what he did to Aemma, but it seems your old friendship prevents you from detesting him completely. It was so difficult to completely hate someone who you've known your entire life, and has only looked out for you, despite his position of power. 

You rested your hand atop his and smiled tentatively, “Thank you, Viserys. This gesture means a lot to me…and I want you to know that I am grateful for you too. I will always be by your side, no matter what” Viserys flashed you a genuine smile for what seemed like the first time in months, “Thank you, Y/N. Truly.” 

Two weeks later, you were striding towards Viserys’ solar, a book in your hands, a smile on your face. Viserys and you had been discussing about the structure of a temple of a Valyrian deity for the past few days, and you were delighted when you found a book that contained descriptions of how temples of that particular deity were constructed in the empire of Yi Ti and the Old Empire of Ghis, immediately setting off to Viserys’ chambers to share it with him. You also remembered that today was the day that Viserys was due to walk with the Lady Laena to discuss the marriage pact between their houses. You had no doubt he would be feeling discouraged after that, and you hoped the book would lift his spirits.  

You nodded at Ser Steffon Darklyn, who was standing guard outside the King’s solar, and bustled into the room like you did many times before. What you did not notice however, was the man’s panicked look as he remembered the King was busy with another visitor when you entered. 

You swept into Viserys’ solar, a grin on your face, “Viserys, I found something of interest-'' But you nearly dropped the tome as you came to a dead halt, staring at the dismayed figures of both King Viserys and Lady Alicent - who were far too close together for your liking - in shock. A dead silence blanketed the room, before Viserys began appealing to you, “Y/N, this is not what it looks like-” 

Suddenly, Ser Steffon’s voice came from the door, “Your Grace, the Hand is requesting for an audience.” Viserys sighed, looking between the door and your accusatory expression. “Let him in, Ser Steffon.” 

The Hand entered the room, bowing to the King. He didn’t seem surprised to see Alicent here, you realised with growing indignation. Otto Hightower, that cunt, looked a little taken aback at your presence, however it was quickly smoothed over by his grim expression. 

“Your Grace, I’ve called the Small Council to an emergency session. An incident has-” 

“Can the matter wait?” Viserys demanded, walking over to you, but you backed away, unable to look him in the eye as you tightened your grip on the ancient tome. “I’m afraid not, Your Grace. There has been a problem,” Otto paused, eyeing you and Alicent, clearly unsure whether he should say it in front of the both of you. “At Dragonstone.” 

Daemon, your heart thudded in your chest. What did he do now? 

“Gods be good,” Viserys muttered. “I understand. I will be there shortly. I have a pressing matter at hand.” With that, Viserys turned to you, his expression becoming sombre as he murmured, “I think I owe you an explanation.” 

“You don’t,” you whisper, a betrayed look on your face. “You owe one to Lady Laena. To Rhaenyra. To Aemma.” 

Viserys sighed, suddenly looking like he aged five years in an instant. You were aware of the Hand’s heavy gaze upon you and Viserys, as well as Alicent’s anxious one. “I swear to the Seven that it is not what it looks like, Y/N.” 

“Then pray tell, whatever good reason can there be for this…gathering?” you whispered harshly. “This does not seem like a one-off incident, am I right?” 

“It is true this was not…a first occurrence,” Viserys looked nervously at Alicent, who was picking at her fingernails again. He placed a hand on your shoulder, causing you to flinch. A sadness dawned in his eyes at your reaction, “I…I will explain it all to you later. But I need you to swear to me that you will not tell Rhaenyra. I’m afraid she will misunderstand-” 

“Your Grace,” Otto speaks up, causing the both of you to turn your gazes to him. You felt queasy when you saw the intrigued look in his eyes. “I’m afraid your conversation will have to wait. This matter is truly urgent.” Viserys sighed, looking at you pleadingly, “Please, Y/N. I promise, I will tell you everything later. Just…help me keep this secret, just once, alright?” You couldn’t do anything but press your lips into a thin line. Seeing there was no use begging you anymore, Viserys only lowered his head shamefully, patting your shoulder before leaving the room. Otto gave you and Alicent one last look, one that you returned with a glare, before he inclined his head and turned to follow the King. 

As the door closed, you and Alicent stood there, an uncomfortable silence blanketing the room. You were the first to break it, “How long has this been going on?” 

Alicent cast her eyes downward, “Nigh six months, my lady.” Her voice was quiet, timid. You crossed over the room to her, arms crossed in disapproval. “Your father ordered you to do so, didn’t he?” “...yes,” Alicent whispered tearfully. Your heart twists. As angry as you were, it was not directed to Alicent, but to Viserys, and the Hand. For once, you finally understood Daemon’s intense dislike of the Hand, and how appropriate it had been when he called him a leech. ‘Yet again, Daemon is proven correct,’ the bittersweet thought caused your lips to quirk upward. ‘Who knew he was such a patron of wisdom.’ You were silent as you let your thoughts deliberate the information you just learnt, before you spoke up once more. 

“Speak truthfully with me,,” your voice was firm, demanding, “Does the King intend to take you as a bride, instead of Lady Laena?” Alicent was silent for a moment, before she spoke in a trembling whisper, “It would appear so.”  

You massaged your temples. Gods be good. “And is that what you desire?” Alicent hesitates, looking torn. “It would be a great honour,” she murmurs, although her voice was lacking in conviction. “It would mean I would be Queen. There is no greater way to bring honour to House Hightower.” You waved your hand in the air dismissively, “Aside from honour, I’m asking you if this is what you want. And do not tell me that it is, just because your father or your House wills it. What I want to hear is if you, Alicent Hightower, want this marriage.” You lowered your voice, demand turning into solemnity, “The path of marriage…it is no easy one, Alicent. And you are still young, there is much of life you have not yet experienced.” You took a deep breath, voice shaking slightly, “You saw…what happened to the late Queen. The pressure to produce an heir…and eventually, she gave her life for it. Is this the sort of life you want to resign yourself to?” 

Alicent bit her lip, a tear trickling down her face. “I do not have a choice, do I?” You were aghast, “Of course, you have a choice. Everybody can dictate their life the way they choose. You need not resign yourself to the will of others. That is no way to live, Alicent.” 

Alicent gives you a bitter smile, still not meeting your eyes. “It is fortunate that you have the liberty to think so, my lady. But it is a concept I am unfamiliar with, and one that I can never grow to fully experience.” You wanted to protest, but you kept silence as you watched Alicent blink back tears, “I’ve learnt from a young age…the inevitability of duty. Run as you may, in the end, this freedom you speak of…it can never be ours. Everyone has a role to play in life, and the women are expected to play it exceptionally well. Noblewomen especially. We were born in this life to serve our fathers, our lords, our husbands, our houses. The thought of freedom is wonderful yes, but you soon realise, it slips through your fingers slowly, until all that is left is duty. Since duty is inescapable, no matter how reluctant I may be, I have learnt that accepting it earlier will cause me less hurt, instead of thinking foolish thoughts.” She finally meets your gaze, eyes filled with solemn determination. “Thank you for your concern, my lady. But this is a choice I have made. You would not change my mind, and I suspect I will not change yours. However, I hope you will respect my opinions on the matter.” 

You face was impassive, but your eyes were filled with sorrow. How wise she was for a girl so young. And how crushing the weight of knowledge can be. You continued to say nothing, instead gently prying apart Alicent’s clenched fingers, examining the wounds on her fingernails. “Come, let me help you put some ointment on them. I got some from the Maesters after the tourney.” 

Your mind was in a haze as you departed the King’s solar. Alicent’s words struck a deep chord in you. You always assumed that everyone would want the choice to pursue the life their heart desires, regardless of their sex, but you never stopped to consider the people who didn’t have the chance to. You had flouted the idea of duty for years, despising it, but seeing Alicent, who willingly embraced the burden of it…it made you feel ashamed. 

Consumed with your thoughts, you didn’t notice a hurried figure approaching until you both collided, nearly knocking each other to the ground. The other person grabbed you to steady you before you fell. Your eyes widened with shock at the guilty figure in front of you. “Rhaenyra?” The princess shushed you, pulling you to a dark corner. “What are you doing?” you whisper furiously, upon noticing her dressed in her dragonriding gear. “Are you sneaking out? At this hour?” 

Rhaenyra was bouncing on her heels impatiently, looking like she might take flight herself at any moment. “To Dragonstone. Daemon has stolen my brother’s egg, he intends to gift it to his mistress’ bastard child.” You were startled, and outraged at that. He would go to such great lengths just to get his brother’s attention? Sometimes you wonder if being a cunt was just in Daemon’s nature. “Please help me keep it a secret, Y/N,” Rhaenyra implored. If it weren’t for you gripping onto Rhaenyra’s forearms, you suspect she would have fled a long time ago. “Father shot me down when I suggested I fly there to retrieve the egg, and sent the Hand instead, but I have to go get it. It was my brother’s egg, I picked it out personally, Daemon has no right-” she struggled to find the words amidst her anger. 

“I understand, go. I won’t tell a soul.” Rhaenyra looked at you with wide eyes. “Are you…serious?” You nodded, letting go of her. “I think you will be able to get through to Daemon. I believe in you. Now go, before your uncle decides to take the Hand’s head off with a sword and cause a war between House Hightower and House Targaryen.” Rhaenyra laughs, before unexpectedly pulling you into a hug. “Y/N…thank you. It feels nice to know that you have faith in me” You were startled, but you hugged her back, and patted her hair soothingly, a gesture you’ve seen Aemma do with Rhaenyra. “You’re more capable than you think, Rhaenyra. Now go,” you pulled away, eyes fixed with hers. “And make Aemma proud, Rhaenyra.” Rhaenyra nodded, a fierce look coming into her eyes. She shot you a brief smile before looking around furtively to make sure that no prying eyes were here to witness her escape, before sprinting away to the stables. You watched her go, biting your lip. Your conversation with Viserys and Alicent crossed your mind, and you felt a little regretful that you didn’t manage to tell Rhaenyra. But Viserys had begged you, and you couldn’t find it in your heart to say anything. You turned away, walking to the godswood, intent for some air. You had a feeling in your gut that sooner or late, all these secrets would culminate in an unpleasant ending.

Your words were proven true enough a few days later. You were reading a book in your chambers, when Rhaenyra burst into your room, nearly giving you a heart attack. You were ready to reprimand her, but one look at her furious, betrayed face, and you already knew. “He-” Rhaenyra bit out, “My father just announced he’s taking a new bride. Alicent.” 

You leaned back in your seat, your heart sinking. So Viserys had gone with it after all. You felt disappointment dawning on you, as well as guilt as you watched Rhaenyra pace around the room frustratedly. “I just don’t understand, how? He was going to marry Lady Laena, he swore it to me yesterday, when did he even get acquainted with Alicent?” Rhaenyra swung back to face you again, but she froze when she caught sight of your guilty expression. “Seven hells,” she breathed out, “You knew?” You closed your book, standing up, “I did, but I didn’t expect-” Rhaenyra let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Save it, Y/N. I do not wish to hear it now. I thought I could trust you.” “Rhaenyra-” you beseeched, but she had already turned her heel and left, slamming the chamber door shut behind her. You sunk back down in your seat, your heart pounding. By the gods, what a mess. 

Your chamber was once more the recipient of another visitor, though it might not have been the one you hoped for. “Rhaenyra?” you called out hopefully, only to be surprised when the timid form of Alicent appeared instead. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and you noticed fresh wounds on her nails once again. “Alicent…” you walked towards her, taking her hands in yours. Alicent began to cry then, and you drew her into your embrace, closing your eyes as you felt Alicent’s tears staining the front of your gown. 

A while later, you had seated Alicent on your bed, observing her as she cradled in her hand the cup of tea a servant had fetched for her. “I thought I knew how heavy this burden was,” she spoke, her voice barely a whisper as she looked despondently into her cup. “But I wasn’t expecting it to feel so painful.” You chewed your lip, as you focused on applying the ointment to the fresh wounds on her left hand. “I thought I was prepared, but I did not realise this would mean I would lose Rhaenyra.” 

Your heart was pounding as well, though not for the same reasons as Alicent. Rhaenyra’s backlash towards this announcement didn’t just signal an end to her ties with Alicent, but also with you. You remembered vividly how betrayed she had looked when she came to realise that you had known, and you had not told her. There was no coming back from that. Apart from your guilt however, you also felt a steady sense of despair building up in you. You had spent the past six months relying on the favour of Rhaenyra to prevent your expulsion from court and back home, how was that to go about now? 

“Oftentimes, life changes in ways we cannot anticipate,” you began quietly, trying to think of your next steps. “But it is best not to dwell on it, to move on and adapt.” Alicent looked distraught at that, but she kept silent, save for the tear trailing down her cheek. You finished applying the ointment to Alicent’s left hand, moving onto her right hand. Suddenly, an idea struck you. “Alicent, I know this is a bit sudden,” you said gingerly, “But if I may…I would like to request to serve you as your lady-in-waiting.” Alicent looked surprised, though there was no anger in her expression, much to your relief. You were worried that you might have overstepped, but Alicent only put down her cup of tea and squeezed your hand, “I would be honoured to have you as my lady-in-waiting, Y/N.” 

You had to refrain from sighing with relief, pleased that your gamble had worked out. You were banking on your close ties with Alicent now, and a queen’s power was surely more reliable than a princess’. At least, good enough to keep you at the Red Keep. Once again, you felt guilty for using Alicent this way, but it was not out of malicious intent either: you truly did care for Alicent like a daughter, much like you had with Rhaenyra. Besides…you realised that Alicent’s current predicament was much like that of your worst nightmares. The realisation left a bitter taste on your tongue. Alicent was everything you vowed you would never end up being, and watching all this unfold in front of you while you were powerless to stop it - it felt gut-wrenching. 

“Y/N,” Alicent’s soft voice snapped you out of your reality. You looked at her questioningly, seeing hesitation in her eyes. “If I may ask…why did the King never choose to marry you?” You felt an initial urge to cringe, but then you realised it was a valid question, and a good one at that. “The King clearly cares for you, and values you greatly. And not to mention, you are the sole heir to Highgarden,” Alicent looked unsure, “It would be a prudent decision to marry you, a brilliant match, even. Far eclipsing the advantages of a union with the daughter of the Hand of the King. Why has the King never considered that?” 

You fell silent, deep in thought. The points she made were excellent, and even though you felt discomfited by it, you were curious to know as well. In the end, you could only reply, “I do not know, Alicent.” 

“Your Grace,” you greeted stiffly, curtsying to Viserys, much to his distress. He reached out to you, trying to help you up, but you only stepped away. The hurt on his face almost made you feel guilty for your coldness, but you couldn’t stand to look at him right now. If it hadn’t been for him summoning you to his solar, you would’ve continued giving him the cold shoulder. 

Viserys sighed, giving up as he turned towards his model of the Old Valyria. His next question made you raise your eyebrows incredulously. “How is Rhaenyra coping with the news?” Unease grew in you, “Shouldn’t you be asking about Alicent instead, Your Grace?” Viserys grimaced at your use of formalities. “Alicent seems perfectly content, does she not? It is Rhaenyra whom I should be concerned about now.” 

You frowned, “It is quite the opposite, actually. Rhaenyra is angry, but I’m sure she will calm down sooner or late.” Viserys seems assuaged by that, retreating to take a seat at the armchairs before the fireplace. “I am thankful to hear that.” You took a seat next to him, levelling a hard glare at him. “And what of Alicent?” Viserys looked surprised, “What of her?” “She seems distraught over this match.” Viserys furrowed his brows, “This union brings her more benefit than it does me, what does she have to be distraught about? She will be Queen.” You finally exploded, “And so?” you demanded, rising up from your seat. “It is clear that she is unhappy with this match. She came to me crying today, Viserys. She’s frightened by the prospect of this marriage. And it is clear that she is  being used as a political pawn in her father’s games. How can you say she will not be distraught by this?” You half expected Viserys to get up and order you to leave, but he only sighed and washed a hand over his face. “Y/N,” he began slowly, gesturing for you to sit down. You refused, staring at him with defiant eyes. He sighed, sometimes you reminded him so much of Daemon that it was a wonder you were not a Targaryen yourself. That stubborn persistence and fiery temper…

“Alicent may be unhappy now, but I did not force her into this match.” He sighed again at your disbelieving expression, “Think of it this way, if she had vehemently opposed this match, she wouldn't have willingly visited my chambers every night without fail for the past six months. It was a scheme engineered by Otto, that I can see, but even so, Alicent wanted this. If she had been unwilling, she wouldn’t have taken the initiative to get closer to me, to indulge me in my interests.” 

You were still frowning, but you slowly lowered yourself back into your seat. You didn’t want to believe in Viserys’ words, but he had no reason to lie. “Ambition is a fickle thing, Y/N,” Viserys turned his gaze to the fire. “Some men choose to deny it, to preserve the illusion of their humility. But the truth is, every man is akin to a starving man when he sees a banquet when it comes to power. Do not underestimate the temptation of power, Y/N. Many men claim they do not desire it, but no one can resist it. Alicent is no different. She may feel uncomfortable with this match at first, but there is a small sliver of her that covets this position, and the power she can wield with it.” 

You chose to say nothing, but you tightened your grip on your armrests as Viserys spoke. Viserys sighed, turning his gaze back to you. “I have to be frank with you…my ideal match when I first heard the topic of remarriage being brought up, was you, Y/N.” You finally met his gaze again, mouth agape. “What?” 

Viserys nodded wearily, “It would’ve seemed natural. After all, we grew up together, and you are one of the people I hold dearest to my heart. I would have been happy to take you as my wife.” Your stomach began to churn. “But, I knew…with your temperament, you would never be happy in this marriage with me.” Viserys smiled ruefully at you, “I knew Aemma would have never wanted me to trap you in an unhappy marriage, and I don’t either.” 

“But you’re alright with trapping Alicent in an unhappy marriage instead?” you snapped. Viserys looked resigned, recognising that he would not be able to get through to you. “Alicent’s…distress over this match would fade sooner or late. Furthermore, I genuinely do care for Alicent’s wellbeing, and I will see to it she lacks for nothing as my queen.” “Material possessions do not equate to happiness, Viserys,” you said angrily. Viserys finally slams down his hand on his armrest, shocking you into silence. It was in rare moments like this where you are reminded that Viserys was still of the blood of the dragon, and that he was still your king. You grimaced, realising you might have spoken too carelessly. 

“What would you have me do then, Y/N?” Viserys blustered angrily, “Do you think getting remarried brings me joy? Every time I think about it, the thought sends me into a spiral of despair. That I would have to take a new wife, sire new heirs, with someone whom I might not love. Alicent may not be Aemma, but I care for her a great deal, and I will not have you deny it.” Viserys sinks back into his seat, his rage slowly turning back into that resigned, mournful look you’ve seen him wear so much lately. His voice cracked a little as he spoke, “I’m just…so tired, Y/N. You are my closest confidant, and even you can’t seem to understand how I feel, what I’m going through. After Aemma, I find myself losing the will to go through my days more and more with each passing day. It feels like my life has been drained out of me. I never liked partaking in the intrigues of court either, and without Aemma, it has only grown harder to bear. Alicent lessened the burden of grief on my shoulders. When I was with her, it felt like I could just…be. No kingly duties, no responsibilities, no Small Council on my back, nitpicking my every move, scheming to consolidate power. She made me feel like I was just Viserys, a feeling I only experienced with you, Aemma, and Daemon.” 

“...you really do care for her then?” you asked quietly. Viserys nods, looking earnest. “I do. Trust me, Y/N, I would not do anything to cause her unhappiness. And I believe as time passes, I will grow to feel love for her.” You played with your fingers uncomfortably, not knowing what to make of this conversation. Your insight into Viserys’ thoughts only sowed more conflict into your already torn feelings towards him, and you didn’t know what the right thing was to do anymore. The two of you stared into the roaring fire, as the solar was enveloped in a thick blanket of tense, pensive silence. 

On Driftmark, there was silence as well. But this silence felt more taut, more dangerous, like a provoked beast who was readying to strike. 

At least that’s what Daemon Targaryen thought as he took a swig of Arbor Gold from his goblet, taking in his surroundings. The Velaryons had a strange taste for decor, which he assumed was an acquired taste. 

Lord Corlys sat from across him, a surly expression on his face as he spoke. Daemon couldn’t find it in him to pay attention to the man’s incessant complaints. His mind kept wandering back, much to his frustration, to his conversation with Mysaria a few days ago. Her words, her caution, her fear…so unlike a certain someone he knew.

His mind couldn’t help but chase thoughts of her wellbeing. Had she heeded his advice? Had he gotten through to her, even with her stubborn insistence? Surely she must know that he only wished for the best for her. She was like family to him after all.

Lord Corlys clears his throat, and Daemon slid his focus back to him, a bored look on his face. “You are aware the King has taken Alicent Hightower to wed?” Lord Corlys asks, a shifty look that Daemon couldn’t quite place filling his eyes. Daemon shot him an irate look. It was hard not to know, particularly since this matter was what led him to be sitting in this exact chair, listening to Lord Corlys blather about angrily. 

“I heard that the Hightower girl has announced Lady Y/N as her chief lady-in-waiting.” This snapped Daemon back to attention. He took another sip of his wine to hide his smirk, ‘So she is cleverer than I gave her credit for.’  

“I don’t see how that relates to why you asked me here, Lord Corlys,” Daemon’s voice was annoyed. Lord Corlys’ expression turned sly, “In all honesty, I had expected that the King might have taken Lady Y/N to be his bride instead. He gave off the impression he might.” Daemon’s eyebrows shot to his forehead, and he nearly choked on his wine. “I can assure you, Lady Y/N would never let that happen,” Daemon told Lord Corlys, voice dripping with amusement. “But he is the King. It is quite impossible to refuse an order from the King. And besides,” Lord Corlys’ lips quirked upwards, “I have heard that Lady Y/N is rather fond of your brother herself. She has been dining with him each night since Queen Aemma’s passing.” 

Daemon tried to keep his expression impassive, but his grip on his goblet tightened. The thought of his brother taking Y/N to wed…it sent an odd, visceral feeling through him. Something that was akin to possessiveness and…jealousy? Mayhaps he was drunk. There was simply no way. No way at all. 

Lord Corlys smirked, the Prince’s dark expression told him that he had been successful in inciting some anger in the Prince against the King. Which was exactly all he needed. And soon enough, it was official: Daemon Targaryen had just agreed to wage war on the Stepstones.

Taglist: @drwho-ess @graniairish @urmomsgirlfriend1 @thelittleswanao3 @animelover18 @llovinjoonie @gracielikegrapes @salembridger @itszzmoon @kmmg98 @travelingmypassion @zae5 @norestfortheshelbywicked @soleilgrec @anehkael​

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those who are bolded are those who couldn’t be tagged! let me know if you wish to be added to the taglist in the comments or through this form! 

A/N: so if you made this far, bless you. This was a very long chapter, so hats off to you for finishing it 💗 the next chapter will be much shorter, I promise, although it might take longer because i’m going on a short trip. hopefully i can get it done by next wednesday! 

as always, if you loved this chapter, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! thank you for your support 💗 

#se zaldrizoti prumia #sezaldrizotiprumia_masterlist #aureliawrites #daemon targaryen #prince daemon #prince daemon targaryen #daemon x y/n #daemon x reader #daemon targeryan #daemon x you #daemon x fem!reader #prince daemon x reader #the rogue prince #hotd daemon #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon targaryen x female reader #daemon targaryen x tyrell!reader #daemon x tyrell!reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon fic #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #hotd fic #hotd x oc

[onadarklingplain]

the kind and talented @prettydangrotten sent me an amazing ask about which song in the top ten of my spotify wrapped had the most galex energy, and what fic i would write for it, and then tumblr very rudely ate it after i had written out a whole thing. anyways! the song with the most galex energy in my top ten is TROPIC MORNING NEWS by the national, which came in at 2nd and is a verifiable george anthem.

It wasn’t fair of George to ask. They were broken up, technically. It was just he didn’t know what else to do.

His phone was shaking in his hands a little as he carefully typed out Can you come over? It took longer than it should have. His fingers kept slipping on the screen.

It started vibrating in his hand a second later. When he answered, Alex’s voice was loud in his ear. “Are you okay?”

It was late or maybe early. George had given up trying to figure out the local time in Singapore, but debriefs were over and everyone had decamped from the track back to hotels. Still, Alex sounded out of breath over the phone. George wondered if he had been in the middle of a run. Or worse, if he —

“Yeah,” George said. “Sorry, I’m — forget it. I shouldn’t have—“

It used to be easy between them. When they were kids, George sometimes thought that he could read Alex’s mind. He always knew. He didn’t know when it had stopped feeling like that.

“I’ll come over,” Alex said softly. Now George had to strain to hear him at all; he was pressing the glass of his screen right up against his ear, case cutting into his palm. “Text me your hotel.”

Seeing Alex standing in his room didn’t do anything to help. It only made it worse. He still felt like he had a gaping pit inside of him, huge and yawning and empty all the way down, the one that had been there since he had binned it, only now it was coupled with the pain of everything that had happened between him and Alex. He had been so stupid.

“George,” Alex started, running a hand through his hair and sending the bronzed tips sticking in a dozen directions. “I don’t.”

He was wearing an old pair of shorts and his new branded trainers. It made George think of last time he had been round Alex’s mum’s house and seen Horsey. It was dumb to feel sad about never seeing a cat again.

“Sorry,” George said again. He had lost track of how many times he had said it. “It was just, the race.”

Alex sighed. “I know, it’s shit. You’ll get ‘em next time. You’ll get another chance.” They were just old, trotted out lines. They didn't help. And he still hadn’t touched George.

George had to bite his tongue to stop himself from saying anything. Alex had a bad race too, and that was how he had fucked things up before, after Zandvoort. What he had said about Williams — the words hadn’t come out like he wanted them to.

Alex was still talking. “Just get a good nights sleep, okay? And call someone else in the morning. Lando would —“

“I don’t want to talk to Lando,” George said. “I want. Alex, I need.”

There was no sense being coy about it, not when he had already embarrassed himself so much, but he couldn’t make himself say it out loud. He had never needed to before.

Alex sighed. He knew. “Do you have the stuff?”

George nodded, too fast, too eager. He had never taken it out of his case. It had been there, tucked neatly away at the bottom, all season.

“Well go on then,” Alex said, impatient.

Having a task made him feel immediately better, some of the fuzzy badness in his brain dialled down. He did as Alex said, fishing the discrete little bag out and setting it on the bedspread. He could feel Alex’s eyes on him as he stripped.

He put the blindfold on first and then lay back so that Alex could do his wrists. That was how Alex liked it. When he couldn't look, George had to imagine where Alex was, what he was doing. Everything in his body felt like anticipation again, a sweet feeling like inevitability filling him up everywhere. It was all there was. When Alex gathered up his wrists, it was gentle, the callouses of his palms rubbing sweetly against over the delicate bones there, over George's tender skin.

#got up to seize the day with my head in my hands #i hadn't put my face on yet or the role or the feel of where i was going with it all #i was suffering more than i let on #aka GEORGE #every line of this song is a galex fanfiction i've literally read it on ao3 #tumblr fic #galex #f1 rpf

[f1letters]

midnight rain | gr63

"chasing that fame, he stayed the same, all of me changed like midnight"

summary: what happens when he decides his career will always be more important than their relationship?

warning: angst, overall just sad, heartbreak, breakup, swearing, mentions of mental health struggles, mentions of hate from fans and media, lowkey toxic George, the beginning of the story takes place at the end of 2021 when George was announced as the new Mercedes driver, happy-ish ending

pairing: george russell x reader

word count: 3.1k

note: everything in bold are song references and in italic are thoughts not only by the reader but also by other people.

well... this story REALLY wanted to be posted, iykyk 🤠 hope the wait was worth it and you enjoy the FINAL version of this story! haha

masterlist

Rain

Life as we know it is made of cycles.

A conversation started with a hello ends with a goodbye. The beautiful birth ends in a painful death. An open door eventually closes. A sunrise in the morning ends in a sunset at the end of the day. Light always ends in darkness.

And love is very similar to this philosophy of nature.

Like the long-awaited magnificent spring flowers, it is born out of nowhere, giving a new colour and a completely new meaning to our lives. It symbolizes a fresh start, a new chance. With it comes enthusiasm, warmth, eagerness. You wake up in the morning happier, looking forward to facing the day ahead. Everything looks better, more colourful, happier.

Spring was in fact beginning when Y/N met George.

She could still remember the 16-year-old boy at the back of the classroom, constantly lost in thought as he stared out the window. His eyes were on the pink blossoms beginning to bloom on the long branches of the old tree in the high school garden. The girl found herself thinking "Why does he look out there so much?" and hence her curiosity arose. She wanted, no, she needed to meet the quiet guy in the class.

She remembered it all too well, and she was convinced that she would never be able to forget it.

She would never be able to forget how no one made her laugh as he did. How his hand fit hers as if they were made for each other. How the scent of his perfume made her heart beat faster.

Young Y/N didn't know if soul mates were true, or a myth created by hopeless romantics. But of one thing she was sure: if anyone was hers, it was George Russell.

Two halves of the same heart made to unite, two souls destined to meet in this life and all the ones to come, two bodies attached by an invisible thread.

However, every spring inevitably leads to cold, harsh winters. Blue skies are replaced by dark clouds. The sun rays by thunder. The flowers by snow. The colour by grey.

Again, love always follows nature's trend and, as time goes by, it too inevitably leads to rain.

He wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain

He wanted a bride, I was making my own name

Chasing that fame, he stayed the same

All of me changed like midnight

Years passed and with them went birthdays, anniversaries, Christmases, New Years, family gatherings and vacations. 

With them went births and funerals, laughter and tears, fights and reconciliations.

But although the wind changed with the seasons, one thing that always stayed the same was the passionate way that Y/N unconditionally supported her partner.

Seven years later, the young woman screamed his name from the audience with the same intensity as when she saw him win the first time in Formula 3. Her heart seemed to jump out of her chest with the same anticipation as when she saw him become a Formula 2 champion.

It didn't really matter to her whether he was racing karts or Formula 1 cars, as long as he was happy and fulfilled, and although his world brought cages and fences with it, she never felt so free as when she had him by her side.

Everything suddenly seemed to change with the announcement of George's new contract at reigning champions Mercedes.

With the career opportunity of a lifetime came happiness, gratitude, finally the reward for all the effort not only by him but by everyone who was part of his support system.

But on the other hand, what for some was paradise... for others has become a torturous hell on earth.

All of a sudden, all eyes were on the Brit. All the media wrote about the talented star who was to succeed seven-time champion, Lewis Hamilton. All the attention was on him, and so was all the pressure.

And to be perfectly blunt, George lived for it. The fame, the luxury, the focus on him, it was everything he ever dreamed of. 

He lived for the flashes, for the applause, for the screams of the fans. 

The lights that seemed to blind Y/N were swiftly becoming the cause of the driver's tunnel vision.

My town was a wasteland

Full of cages, full of fences

Pageant queens and big pretenders

But for some, it was paradise

In the midst of all the chaos, the same eyes that put the driver on a pedestal were the ones that threw knives at the innocent girl for simply... Existing.

In the blink of an eye, and with her boyfriend's last season in the Williams team now wrapping up, all of the young woman's movements started to be carefully studied, millimetre by millimetre.

How dare she be so happy and smiling ear to ear when he just finish the race dead last.

Look at that frown on her face when her boyfriend scored points in a weak car like that.

She looks so annoyed to be there, so ungrateful.

She has a millionaire boyfriend and yet she doesn't have the money to hire a decent stylist.

My boy was a montage

A slow-motion, love potion

Jumping off things in the ocean

I broke his heart 'cause he was nice

He was sunshine, I was midnight rain

Everything was a critique. Because she did something, or because she didn't. Because she said this, or because she didn't say that. Because she used a white that was too white, or because she used a black that was too black.

George Russell was a montage, and she was just an accidental stain beside him ruining the perfect picture.

But she tried. 

For him, she tried to be the bride people wanted for him. And nothing hurts more than trying your absolute best and still not being good enough.

George's focus was solely on making his own name in the world of motorsports and Y/N ended up forgotten and overlooked by the man while she was facing a world of hate alone.

He wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain

He wanted a bride, I was making my own name

Chasing that fame, he stayed the same

All of me changed like midnight

Suddenly two halves that once made a whole became two pieces of a puzzle that didn't fit together.

She was sunshine, he was midnight rain.

Y/N was sitting on her couch, just like every night. Propped up on her beige pillows, the young woman followed her daily routine of masochism and scrolled through screens and screens of comments about her, mentally taking notes of what could be improved.

She shouldn't do it, and she knew it herself, but the desire for approval and validation from others was more important to her than keeping her heart intact.

The unexpected sound of her doorbell woke her back to the real world and the girl was immediately confused, as she wasn't expecting anyone at that time of night.

The only company she wanted at that moment was the thunder that lit up the living room every couple of minutes.

The woman got up, putting her hands comfortably in the pockets of her sweater, and walked towards the entrance of her apartment. She looked through the silver peephole and a wave of panic ran through her entire body.

Fuck me, the team party.

Amid all the stress, Y/N completely forgot about the invitation until now she saw her boyfriend, in a full suit, standing there looking at the expensive watch on his wrist, indicating that she was fighting a ticking time bomb.

When she opened the door, George let himself in without even looking at her.

"So? We're already late." The man questioned, still with his vision glued to the counted minutes, while Y/N froze in her place, in her pyjamas, not knowing what to say.

"Why aren't you ready?" Russell questioned, confused and slightly upset with the girl. "It's almost midnight."

"Sorry my love, I completely forgot" Y/N answered sincerely, approaching her partner and placing a tender kiss on his cheek.

"How? I told you multiple times." The boy spoke angrily, releasing a frustrated sigh. "Come on. Go get ready quickly so we can get out of here. We're already going to be the last ones to arrive. Good job, Y/N." The irony escaped his tongue.

Although the guilt was already consuming her insides, the emotional exhaustion associated with the team only made her want to stay home more. She didn't have the energy to socialize, to make small talk, to keep up the shiny appearances.

"I don't feel like going, to be honest." The woman confessed, exhausted, crossing her arms in front of her chest defensively.

It came like a postcard

Picture perfect shiny family

Holiday peppermint candy

But for him, it's every day

"You never fucking do." His voice rose in pitch as he brought his hand to her hair, tugging at it, irritated with his girlfriend. "It's excuse after excuse. You never stop to think this shit is important to me and my career."

The words that escaped his mouth fell on the young woman like a bucket of cold water and, like the deafening lightning outside, the darkness charged through her and consumed her utterly.

There was no turning back.

"You must be fucking kidding me. This has to be a joke." She laughed humourless, in disbelief. "I'm the one who doesn't care. Me."

"What the fuck are you trying to say?" His eyes landed on her, sharp as knives. "Come on, say what you want to say. You started it, now you better finish it."

"What I mean is, I'm done with this picture perfect act. I'm tired of doing everything for you and getting nothing in return other than scorn, indifference, cold words." The girl screamed, releasing the feelings she had hidden for so long. "I never demand anything from you, I do what you ask me to do, I go where you want me to go, I act how I should act."

Y/N felt tears form in her eyes as she continued her rant. "All of that and what do I get in return? Nothing. Not even a single thank you. It's like you don't even care about me at all." A sob escaped the girl.

"Don't be dramatic, Y/N. For God's sake." George shook his head, completely dismissing his longtime partner's admissions.

"See?" A sob escaped the girl, now shattered and heartbroken. "It's all about you. I have zero value in this relationship. What are we even doing in it if you only care about your fucking self and Mercedes and Formula 1? I'm nobody in your life. You don't have space for me in your life anymore."

The driver looked dumbfounded at the girl in pyjamas while trying to understand what he was feeling in the face of her accusations.

Ignoring the time and the party that awaited him, George turned his back on his girlfriend, leaving her alone to cry sitting on the edge of her sofa, and went to her balcony, closing the glass door and creating a physical barrier between them.

How did things go so wrong all of a sudden?

Neither of them understood how such a warm, sunny love story could lead to the beginning of such a cold, rainy end.

So I peered through a window

A deep portal, time travel

All the love we unravel

And the life I gave away

'Cause he was sunshine, I was midnight rain

Putting some distance between them at that moment was undoubtedly the only viable option to avoid ruining everything. Although the future of the two was uncertain, both would rather die than tarnish the past that they shared over the years.

One minute became five, five became ten, and ten became twenty. 

In her anticipation, the sound of the clock hands seemed even louder than the thunderstorm on the other side of the window to Y/N.

Eventually, George returned to the living room, with his jacket now over his arm and a few drops of rain running down his forehead, resembling the tears that now also fell from his sad eyes.

Without breaking the deafening silence between them, the boy moved to the sofa and took his place next to the trembling girl, not a word escaping both of their mouths.

They were both afraid, but they knew what inevitably had to happen.

"This isn't working anymore, Y/N." George was the first to speak, sighing. "This is not healthy for either of us."

The young woman's head and heart battled within her.

On one hand, she knew; she knew it was right and she agreed that it would be better to end it there than to ruin something that until then had been wonderful, even with its challenges.

But her heart…the poor thing wasn't willing to give up the one person who she believed to be the love of her life.

The girl stood up abruptly, making Russell's neck turn towards her, caught by surprise. "No, no, it can't be. I'll just go get dressed and we will go to the party and everything will be fi-."

"Y/N." The man got up and grabbed her hands, keeping her at arm's length. "This. Us. It's hopeless. It's for the best."

"You can't do this to me." The girl screamed, full-on crying and sobbing now, in complete denial. "You can't, you just can't. Not after all the life I gave away for you. You can't, George."

He wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain

He wanted a bride, I was making my own name

Chasing that fame, he stayed the same

All of me changed like midnight

She couldn't help but think of all the sacrifices she'd made for him, for his success even against her own well-being.

All the long flights she took to the other end of the world to support him no matter what place he ended up in. All the plans she cancelled to attend his celebrations, galas and dinners. All the mental health she put at risk. And now…she was alone, with nothing, no future, no hopes, no goals, no dreams.

She simply couldn't imagine a world where her future didn't involve him.

"This can't be the end…" She whispered, letting her inner thoughts escape.

George let his forehead rest against hers, savouring what they both knew were their last moments.

"I'm sorry for everything, love, I really am. You deserve so much more than this. But we want different things in our lives now, one of us would've ended up unhappy and resentful for having to be the one sacrificing everything."

The girl's silence was more than an answer for George, understanding that she agreed with him, even though both hearts felt like they were being ripped out of their chests at that moment.

The driver lifted his head until his lips reached the top of her head, where he placed a lingering, heartfelt kiss. His eyes closed tightly, trying to prevent more tears from spilling at the sound of the small girl's cries.

George broke away from the girl and, after letting his eyes study her image one last time, he walked to the apartment door and just left, not looking back once.

He knew that if he did he would never be able to make the right thing and let their beautiful story end there.

He wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain

He wanted a bride, I was making my own name

Chasing that fame, he stayed the same

All of me changed like midnight

How to move on when the person you love leaves? Time.

And like the seasons, time moves on.

You learn to get out of bed again in the morning. Getting dressed to go to your family. Gaining motivation to get on the bus and go to work. Accepting invitations to have a drink or go out with friends, even when you want nothing but to stay in bed crying, eating some ice cream.

You don't feel whole all of a sudden, you might still feel like a part of you is missing but you learn to feel... okay.

Time moved forward, and Y/N slowly began to regain her happiness, now depending on no one but her.

Her life went on and she got just what she wanted: anonymity, peace, comfort.

After a year, she never thought of him daily like she used to.

Except when she turned on the TV in her hotel room, after returning from a girls' night in Cancun, and she saw him.

On top of the podium, the driver had finally accomplished his dream of winning a Grand Prix Prix for Mercedes and, with that, add his name in Formula 1's history.

She couldn't help thinking about the "what if"s.

While she would never be able to admit it to another soul, she couldn't help but think about how much she still hoped he was the one.

I guess sometimes we all get

Just what we wanted, just what we wanted

And he never thinks of me

Except for when I'm on TV

Whether haunted by the memories of them or the happiness she could only feel with him by her side, Y/N would survive the heartbreak, and she knew it.

Of course, she still loved him and she believed there would never be a day when she didn't.

But the beautiful thing about love is that you can love someone and want all the success in the world for them… and still go on without them.

What cold, dark, sad winter it was.

But spring always finds a way to come back.

I guess sometimes we all get

Some kind of haunted, some kind of haunted

And I never think of him

Except on midnights like this

taglist: @dan3avacado @starxqt @roseinnej @spiidergirlsworld @ccloaned @hotpigeon22 @dr3lover @lovelytsunoda @primadonnasdream @luxebeautystyle @wallfloweriism @ilivefortheleague @gwynethhberdara @satellitelh @adavenus @audreyscodes @wifeoflucyboynton @th6ccnsp6cyy @classifiedsblog @flyingmushroomss @motylekrozi @claramllera @gabrielamaex @handsupforamiracle @pierre-gasssllyy @lorenaloveslewis

@idkiwantchocolatee @simpforsunwoo @kissatelier @xweirdxsceletton @micksmidnights @miniminescapist @inchidentwithmax @hopelesslyromantics-world @alwaysclassyeagle @indieclarke @capela-miranda @okokoksblog @pulpfixion @sins-only33 @sainzclerc @allisonxf1 @honethatty12 @amsofftrack @flannel-cures @junkiespromise @loudoperahumanoidpanda @honeyric3 @holy-macncheese-balls @ricciardosheart @pierreverstapkin

@ravenqueen27 @majkaftorek @home-of-disaster @buendiabebeta @itgirlofnowhere @roses-of-eden @thewintersunset @rubychocolatechips

(taglist continues in the comments)

thank you to everyone that asked to be tagged! please let me know if you want to be added to the next stories! 💌

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 imagine #f1 one shot #george russell imagine #george russell x reader #george russell #gr63 #f1letters #f1 x reader #f1 x taylor swift #f1 x midnights #Spotify #george russell one shot #george russell angst #gr63 x reader #george russell fic #f1 fic #formula 1 one shot

[alovesreading]

any fic recs? like fics you just cant live without other people reading?

okay i might not be the best person to ask this because i'm writing two long series at this moment and i barely have time to properly read fics like i used to but i can defo give you a little list of recommendations!

when you say fics i can't live without other people reading, Nothing Revealed In A Common Crisis by my wonderful and incredibly talented best friend @imagine-that-100 is the first to come to my mind! An absolute masterpiece of a fic, alex turner x reader x matty healy love triangle that's just so well written and thought out that it makes me scream. I'm entirely obsessed with it and it truly is my roman empire LOL! (it also introduced me to the 1975 so we love it!)

make sure to check out the rest of N's work fr, all of her series are amazing and if you want one shots, Will We Talk is insanely good and I'm eager for her to post part 3 and All Is On My Side is everything to me as well!

of course, i have to add Aphasia by another one of my besties @red---moon 'cause that fic is just so damn good. I will be forever obsessed with the way Red writes and her characterisation is just so raw and real, it's genuinely inspiring. also if you want some george x reader x matty brainrot, her one shot Indecision is surely gonna drive you mad.

another one of my incredible best friends, @kennedy-brooke put out her first fic Dress which has a part 1 and part 2 and it's so fucking good, I think every George girlie needs to read ASAP!!!!

if you wanna indulge in some fun and really well fucking written gatty content, i have to send you over to read everything @vinylandcoffeecollection has out! In particular, The Cellophane House and its sequel Lost Boys had me in shambles and I loved it so much!!! Another gatty legend is @drinkurkombucha and i would defo recommend all of her work! my favourites will forever be Talking To George and Stranger Than (Fan)Fiction!

i fell in love with a Ross fic i read the other day by @butyou-callmewhenyourebored and i think it deserves more attention. i fully was almost crying by the end of it, it was so sweet and well written!!!

now if you need filthy smut to read, i will definitely be sending you over to @lottiecrabie! she is the absolute queen of smut and everything she has written has left me jaw dropped and gasping for air lollllll!!! (such a shame she's leaving but she will never be forgotten)

also Three's A Party by @abiiors!!! jesus christ almighty, when i tell you i died reading this, i mean it. pure ross x reader x george brainrot.

another one that had me gagged was Satiate by @heavenhealy! that fic had me sweating and screeching like an idiot.

and for the last filthy one that comes to my mind it is @toomuchracket one shot inspired by politician!matty that truly ended my life in the best way when i read it the other day.

let me end this all in a wholesome cute note and put you on dad!matty because Playing On My Mind by @ughgoaway has me in a chokehold and the little extras they have been posting have me swooning and wanting to die for dilf matty!

it's fair to say that this fandom is filled with talent and i have too little time to properly indulge in all the great pieces everyone puts out so this list is way too short! but i hope you enjoy this messy but great list lol!!!! i really hope that by the time i'm done with the long series i'm currently writing, i can read much more and actually give a longer and more organised list. hope this helps anyway!!

#A's asks #can you tell i suck at shutting up #went on a rant for no reason #lmfao i hate my brain #much love to everyone in this list tho! #amazing talented people all around!!

[lythea-creation]

Worst Prank Ever - Platonic Fred and George Weasley x fem reader

summary: During the summer holidays between their first and second year, Fred, George and (f/n) pull a prank they swear to never repeat again.

warnings: none, i think

word count: 729

Author's note: Feel free to check out my Masterlists and make requests. No reposting please! Reblogging, comments and requests are always appreciated <3 If you like the story/my writing, please don't be shy to say it via comments or asks! It takes you a few seconds and might make my day. It's the best appreciation you can show to a writer you like.

Requested? Yes

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

Hogwarts was a place full of magic and new experiences. As a first year I was excited to leave my old muggle school behind to learn how to cast spells, fly on a broom and tame exotic beasts.

But I had not considered that despite all the magic, Hogwarts was still a school.

Therefore I was rejoiced to befriend the Weasley twins, Fred and George. With them by my side boredom was not even in my vocabulary anymore.

Honestly I had never been one for pranks, but since they introduced me to them, I had turned into an obsessive fan. I was always the first one to know what they were planning, eager to participate despite the consequences.

We were a feared trio when it came to the teachers we did not quite get along with.

My parents did not mind the complaints that were sent their way as they were too busy working to care at all. So why should I care?

In the summer break it all continued.

Since my parents were on a business trip and hence could not take care of me, the Weasley's had allowed me to stay over at their home.

In the beginning I had been a bit timid and shy, but that had quickly changed when everyone had been so kind and welcoming. Having Fred and George around may have played a crucial part in that as well.

“Hey, (f/n)! Let's go outside”, Fred suggested.

I did not hesitate to tag along.

A few minutes later we were deep inside the forest around the Burrow.

“Where are we going?”, I wondered.

I had never been inside a forest without an adult by my side. My parents did not allow me to go out on my own.

“There's a place we wanna show you”, George enlightened me.

After about thirty more minutes of walking through branches and roots, we finally arrived at … nothing. Why had they dragged me out here?

“Look up”, George instructed me.

Then I saw it. A giant tree house, hidden between the leaves of the tree.

“What are you waiting for? Let's get up there”, Fred encouraged us, climbing the tree first.

“Wow”, I uttered when I entered the tree house.

It was huge, filled with various things Fred and George must have brought over.

“It's our secret hideout”, George enlightened me.

“We found it when we got lost inside the forest. Nobody else knows about it. So don't be a snitch, okay?”, Fred remarked.

“Of course not”, I promised, outraged that they could even consider me to do it.

“What do you think? Wanna pull another prank and stay here for a few days? We brought food and water”, Fred suggested.

That was what the backpacks were for.

“You mean stay up here and even spend the night?”, I questioned.

“Exactly”, George confirmed.

“That's awesome”, I exclaimed. “I'm in!”

“It's settled then”, Fred noted with a huge grin.

We actually had a lot of fun in the tree house.

Fred and George had brought various magical games we could play. And we used our time to plan pranks for the new school year. At night we could go outside and spot some starts between the tree branches, but only if we climbed up even higher.

It was the best vacation ever.

Until we returned the next afternoon and Mrs. Weasley started yelling at us: “How could you act so irresponsible? We were worried sick! And (f/n), I promised your parents to look out for you. How could you just disappear? You all didn't even say a word. You're all grounded, forever! Now go to your room! I don't want to see you right now.”

Tears were flowing down my cheeks on the way upstairs. This was the first scolding I had gotten by someone else but a teacher and I was feeling agonizingly guilty.

Mrs. Weasley was right. I should have been more considerate.

“That definitely was a buzz”, George declared.

“The worst prank we ever pulled”, Fred agreed.

“Let's never stay away without telling mom again”, George decided.

“Agreed”, Fred and I replied simultaneously.

We stayed true to our word. Even as adults we were always telling Mrs. Weasley where we were going when we visited her.

#harry potter #weasley twins #fred weasley x reader #george weasley x reader #platonic #prank #drama #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry

[solongdaisymayy]

Traditions (Fred & George's Version)

written for #WeasleyWeek hosted by @thethreebroomsticksfic. – Day 5: Fred and George Weasley

shoutout to @lanaturnergetup, queen of George Weasley fics & all things present tense, for looking over this fic! ☺️

Read it below or on AO3 !

It’s one of the oldest, most well known traditions in the Wizarding World, receiving your Hogwarts letter the summer you’re eleven. Criminally less talked about, George reckons, is the insane barrage of questions from a newly admitted first year, all centered around life at Hogwarts. 

“Oh, just you wait, you’ll see what they have in store for you. It’s fun watching the new midgets be sorted,” Fred says when Ron comes down for breakfast on a Monday morning, this time inquiring about the sorting ceremony. Unfortunately for Ron, they've specifically been instructed not to give this bit of information away.

“But how are we sorted? What do we have to do?” Ron asks, taking the seat beside Dad and loading his plate with scrambled eggs and sausages. 

A tawny owl carrying an envelope with the Hogwarts seal arrived for Ron just last week, and he’s talked of little else since. His wondrous curiosity – this wide-eyed eagerness to know where each class is located and what time dinner starts and how soon he can try out for the Quidditch team – would all be sweet, were it not for the fact that Ron has been directing most of these questions towards him and Fred. 

George, groaning, reaches for the pot of tea and wonders dismally if pretending he’s lost his hearing might prompt Ron into shutting up for the rest of summer. The temptation to just tell Ron the truth is growing stronger by the minute. So what if Ron knows all they had to do was pull on a tatty old hat? It surely won’t ruin his first day at Hogwarts, not the way Mum and Dad went on about it. Does it really have to be kept a secret?

Fred, however, waves a hand at Ron, throws George a quick sidelong glance, brow raised. “Just a small test. Doesn’t take too long either, the sorting ceremony.”

George sighs but gives in. For tradition, as they say.

“It’ll be over faster than you can say ‘blimey’. You’ll barely even feel the pain before - poof!” He snaps his fingers. “You’re done, just like that. New house, new mates, you’ve got it all.”

The color drains from Ron’s face. “Pain? What d’you-”

“Don’t worry, you can scream if you’d like.” Fred is the picture of calm as he addresses Ron, who's frowning. “We’re all used to it by now, watching the wee ones squirm. It rarely lasts longer than a minute.”

Dad, his face hidden behind the morning paper, clears his throat loudly.

“Right, right,” Fred says hastily, “but we’re not supposed to talk about it. You’ll find out soon enough, only a few more weeks.”

“Just don’t look too scared when you get there,” George advises, buttering his toast before slathering it with generous amounts of marmalade. “They won’t sort you into Gryffindor, then, and you’ll fail our house test.”

“And that would be a shame,” Fred yawns. “Mum’ll have to disown you.” 

“That’s enough,” Dad interrupts, his voice straining suspiciously behind that newspaper. “Ron, don’t worry, and don’t listen to these two. It’ll be fine, trust me.”

Ron nods, unsure, and stares down at his plate. George tries his best to keep his mouth straight. It’s always so easy, messing around with Ron. 

Ten minutes later, and he’s passing Ron on his way to the kitchen for some of yesterday’s scones. George, glancing down at his younger brother, falters for a heartbeat. He should just let it go, really, but he can’t resist. Biting back a laugh, he pats Ron's head, offers the boy a sympathetic smile when he looks around.

Ron’s expression turns, if possible, ever more morose as he turns back to his cold eggs. 

“Listen, if you fail the sorting ceremony, Ronnie,” George assures him, “there’s always Hagrid’s apprenticeship to look forward to.”

Fred grins. “Yeah, no shame in working with Chizpurfles and Chimeras, dear brother.”

“Working with what? Is that legal?”

“So long as you don’t lose a limb, sure.”

Dad makes a sound, somewhere between a cough and a laugh. 

It’s tradition, too, George reckons, to keep the children guessing about life at Hogwarts.

#ttb #weasleyweek #fred weasley #george weasley #ron weasley #the burrow #breakfast is always an eventful affair at the Weasley's household

[vro0m]

The whole situation is magnified by Merc's incompetent driver management, I hope they can realize thise problem during this non-championship-fight year and can solve it as soon as possible.

But one thing I will sure is George is having the route where Nico and Valtteri once had, Realizing you may not the fastest guy, a belief they held and was confirmed by countless single seater championships during their whole racing life, and he is trying too hard to tell the team he wasn't slow compared to Lewis, he is proving something he can't prove, which is distracting him driving him into error-prone.

Only Jenson accepted at very first time that Lewis is simply faster than him and he can't never beat him in speed wise a season, this self awareness make he not have these mental break down process and can beat Lewis sometimes by using his experience advantage. Like Alonso didn't accept rookie Lewis can match and beat him that he threw advantage as a more experienced driver and team number one driver status away and went into against team, forcing himself have to waste 2008-2009 in driving Renault in midfield.

I don't think by GR's personality he will accept it from any way, even Valtteri needed spend 5 years to finally admit the obvious fact , and i don't think he can pull a Nico 2016 bc at that time Nico was already realized he is slower, that's why he can put his whole career to have a final shoot.

I think the Lewis-George lineup will have a quite interesting and very different dynamic to all former lineup we saw with Lewis, and in the end is all down to how Mercedes manage George, bc from Lewis's side, whether is George or some else it doesn't matter, he only aims on one thing, while George does have a lot little mind, which is normal for drivers with his talent and ambition but yeah if is out of control it will cost a lot, not only for team ,but also for himself.

Yeah I disagree about a bunch of stuff there Anon. Tbh it should be obvious to you if you read my blog frequently but I'm still gonna answer because I have time to kill before I go on a walk.

Calling Mercedes' driver management incompetent is a bit much tbh. They have to find their balance and set limits and get to a place of understanding between all parties but it's not that bad right now. It's more a matter of making sure it doesn't escalate than it already been escalated.

I don't think George is realising he's not the faster guy or whatever you said because right now it's really not that clear cut that he is, or at least he's not that far off. I don't think he's making mistakes because he thinks he's slower than Lewis I think he's making mistakes because he's eager to race and win and he's eager to not find himself relegated to a second driver position. He's right to want to race and win and he's right to want to make sure he's fully taken into account by the team. Historically that has not always been the case for Lewis' teammates. Does that lead him to overdo it a bit sometimes at the moment? Maybe. Whether he is indeed slower or not, he doesn't think he is, for sure. He's even a bit arrogant about not thinking that he is, in my honest opinion.

Bringing up Jenson as an example of someone who accepted Lewis was faster is absolutely insane given he's one of three drivers who beat him in the same machinery in his F1 career, the two others obviously being Nico and George. There's a lot of specific context around all three of these seasons but saying Jenson didn't have a breakdown because he accepted he was slower is just wrong. Jenson didn't have breakdown because 1) he's more well-balanced mentally than 99% of F1 drivers and 2) Lewis was not driving well so it's really arguable whether he was faster than Jenson at the time, and if he really was it didn't matter in the end anyway because he still lost out to him. So Jenson didn't have to accept anything.

Also I'm not gonna repeat what I said in the previous 24 hours re: whether George can beat Lewis or not, you can just re-read these yourself. You can wish it not to be the case (like me) but the truth is none of us know what's to come. George is not Nico, and George is not Valtteri. And Lewis is not in the position he was when he was up against Nico or when he was partnering Valtteri. Where I agree with you is when you say it will be different than any other line-up we've seen. But then if that's the case, why do you start by saying George is in the same position Nico and Valtteri were? He's not. First and foremost because Lewis doesn't have the means to be as competitive as he can be right now, unlike when Nico and Valtteri were his teammates. It's an opportunity for George neither of them have had. Or maybe Nico during Lewis' first year at Merc. And Lewis ended that year only 19 points ahead of Nico, so the gap really wasn't that big.

I feel like you just don't like George, or alternatively you only or mostly like Lewis, so you underestimate him. I'm not interested in such discussions to be honest. I hope you don't take me disagreeing with you personally.

#vro0m's asks

[futureheartswithbooks]

As I was rewatching episode 3 (for about the fifth time), I noticed something new about Lockwood, Lucy and George's reactions to the fallout of what happened a Combe Carey Hall. I think I had vaguely registered it before, but it really stuck out to me this time, and it wouldn't get out of my head, and someone has probably already said this, but I needed to talk about it.

Lockwood is far more concerned with the fact that they can't talk about what happened there. It's all that matters to him when he's signing the NDAs and while they're driving off. In the show it seems that perhaps he hasn't lost agents on the job (unlike with the almost throwaway mention of Robin from the Screaming Staircase). He seems so unbothered by the fact that he was almost killed by the red room, the monks and Fairfax most likely because he does have a death wish in many ways, and is far more concerned that no one will know as evidenced about how he is still going on about it in the kitchen scene and in the next episode with the whole Kipps thing. Its as though once it has happened, he forces it to the back of his mind and his ambition strives for their recognition for what they have accomplished at Combe Carey Hall. He gets tunnel vision, hyperfixating on the disrespect he feels is being thrown his way by the lack of acknowledgement and not the fact that he along with his two closest friends almost died several times in one night.

Lucy, on the other hand, has lost people on cases before and very recently in the context of the show (and the book as well). She knows full well the horror of watching people die on the job and while Lockwood & Co have been in dangerous situations (i.e. jumping from a burning building into a bush) they haven't been in as bad a situation as either the red room and by the well. Lucy however has, and has seen these effects first hand at Wythburn Mill and she rightly is relieved that they're all alive at the end. It is far more important to her and she doesn't seem to care about the fact that no one will know about Combe Carey Hall, or at least is no where near as bothered about it. She seems disinterested with Lockwood's annoyance when he goes on about not being in the Times, which partially stems from her desire not to be in the spotlight, and more focused on the events that almost killed her. As well as that, she seems to be almost grieving Annabel's loss too, defending her and snapping at George before taking away the goggles he was examining. It is the end of a pseudo relationship between herself and the ghost and is very much weighing on her while the boys are eager to move on. As for George, he is far more used to Lockwood especially his ambition and his reckless behaviour by now, and seems more in shock rather than anything else when they're in the van. He doesn't say that much and gets distracted by the crates, as if trying to distance himself from the whole thing. By the time they're all back at Portland Row after the funeral, he is happy about the fact that their debt has been cleared and doesn't care about them not being in the paper. However, judging by the way he talks about Annabel's ghost, it is still weighing on his mind, though he has mostly moved onto a new obsession with Fairfax's goggles. In addition to this, when they are at the hall, while Lockwood and Lucy are often silent, he isn't, he can't seem to contain his fear or apprehension or even his disbelief after Lucy unleashes Annabel's ghost on Fairfax. I just found it fascinating to see the different reactions of them all with Lockwood on one extreme and Lucy on the other with George somewhere in the middle. This show and the book series (especially the books, Jonathan Stroud is a fantastic author) are just so detailed and I love how you can see the differences between all of the members of Lockwood & Co.

#lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george karim #combe carey hall #lockwood and co episode 3 #ramblings

[almost-a-class-act]

Joe Toye for the characterization meme !!

My boy Joe!

Joe has Had It™ a lot of the time, but who could blame him? He's neck-deep in a war and he is not having a good time. Half the time his COs don't know what they're doing, he's got too much shit to carry, he keeps getting wounded every twenty damn minutes (four times? four times! plus a couple of grenade-related near-misses on D-Day!), and he has to sleep in a frozen hole in the ground with no winter clothes, not enough food, frostbitten feet, and a bunch of Germans trying to murder him. He's not an inveterate asshole, he's just really fucking tired.

Joe is the kind of guy that expects everyone to pull their weight because you can be damn sure he's going to. He has zero time for incompetence. He has a little bit of swagger and bravado and a pretty high opinion of his own skills and bravery - Joe Toye day, anyone? - but to be fair, we don't see anything to dispute this. He gets a Bronze Star right off the hop at Brecourt Manor and he's eager to get right back into the swing of things after he gets wounded in the arm at Bastogne.

He keeps it to himself when his boots are lost because he expects to be able to manage his own shit. His closest friends are other people who are known for their courage and exploits in battle, like Bill Guarnere. He doesn't come from much, so this is what he's got to lean into, and how he assigns himself value - his toughness, and his drive to work hard. As long as he's a paratrooper. We didn't need to be fucking rescued by Patton. Joe takes a lot of pride in his own reputation as a fighting man as well as the unit's. It's the first time in his life he's felt acknowledged for something that matters.

The fact that George is willing to mess with him a little about his jump wings says to me that he knows Joe will take it okay. Joe's annoyed when he gets hustled at darts, or when George is talking during the movie, but he doesn't lose his temper or hold a grudge. The guys who know him well can for sure tell that he's not hard as nails all the way to his core.

And now we come to the part that is my own little collection of head canons. Much like I wrote about George earlier, I see Joe as not a great communicator of his feelings. Not only does he really place a lot of value in being the tough guy - the brave warrior with a brave face! - but when would he have had time to learn that you need to talk about your emotions (and no, Joe, anger is not the only emotion), nevermind how? It definitely doesn't come naturally.

I could see him as someone who would plan a grand gesture rather than telling a person how he's feeling in so many words. You're not gonna have a lot of heart-to-hearts with this guy. On the other hand, he's extremely reliable and loyal, two top-tier qualities in a friend or romantic partner, and you know what? He's even got jokes! In his own way, of course ("Where are your boots?" "In Washington, up General Taylor's ass."). I suspect you could rope him into shenanigans, if he happened to be in the right mood.

Thanks for the ask, Poet! I appreciate you.

#asks #band of brothers

[existentialmagazine]

Review: Dylan Galvin’s new single ‘How To Write A Pop Song’ pokes a witty jab at modern mainstream pop with a catchy indie-pop sound of its own

With a past that leaned into acoustic, indie-folk and lightly pop based tracks, the upcoming artist Dylan Galvin has always been eager to create without bounds, committed above all else to lyrics and story, and that’s certainly related with audiences too.

His newest single ‘How to Write a Pop Song’ looks to meet seriousness with sarcasm, pushing you to think deeper about the media you consume as well as calling out those that favour popularity over meaning. The song itself while ironically teaching these methods makes sure not to follow them in the slightest, right-away delivering a groovy electric guitar riff and shimmering synthetic backing that’s bright and compelling to the ears. There’s still a catchy edge to it that leaves it just as memorable while significantly more carefully crafted though, vibrantly carrying your attention through the infectious little hooks and funky riffs that run through. The verse fades out from this momentary high, falling into a steady beat, a more subdued guitar riff and bright keyboard keys, together a simple arrangement but somewhat theatrically building with time, unlocking an atmosphere that’s all-encompassing when the chorus finally hits. Dylan’s vocals are smooth and easy-on-the-ears while the sound works its wonders, carrying a light rasp in his words while pushing into both lower-toned and higher-ranges, some lines even further emphasised by backing vocal echoes.

With a title that gives it all away immediately, Dylan sings of the stereotypical nature of music nowadays, quite literally telling you ‘How to Write a Pop Song’ if you’re aiming to create an empty shell that’ll sell. Leaning into the controversial topic of artists selling out and losing their passion, he sings ‘don’t get creative, just gather the data’, turning songwriting into a formulaic equation guaranteed to do well. The chorus hook continues with this theme, declaring ‘If you think too hard, you will get it wrong; you've got to stay nice and stupid if you want to write a pop song.’ As Dylan aims to be witty and playfully jabbing at those who put absolutely no love or care into the music they put out, his lines carry a critique particularly aimed at the same old recycled stuff that dominates the charts. If you’re an artist that delves into pop but does it through value and creativity, this definitely isn’t a jab aimed at you, as Dylan instead looks to push away from the music we’ve heard time and time again and back into the magic that music allows to flow as an outlet of sound and lyricism in one. From artists’ that once released music filled with meaning and depth, to shifted money-focused perspectives or management pushes to lean into what sells the most even where artists disagree, it’s undoubtable that the music industry has become filled with a substantial amount of corruption that prioritises hit tunes over the art it once was at heart. It’s sure to relate to anyone and everyone’s love-hate relationship with pop music too, given we’re all a little tired of the mainstream regurgitated creations, and yet somehow we all keep them selling.

Dylan offers a grand chorus to match, in some ways a little reminiscent of the older loved-up pop hits you’ll hear on the radio as he serenades you with a fully-build up concoction of colourful strummed guitar, easy-going thumping drums, scattered electronic pops and his dreamy vocals piecing it all together. Aiming to meet George Michaels with John Mayer 80’s nostalgia synth-pop stylings, ‘How to Write a Pop Song’ lives and breathes as a modern recreation of everything the genre has lost, as well as the positives of what is has since found too.

It’s worth highlighting that the message of ‘How to Write a Pop Song’ definitely looks to over-exaggerate and provoke comedy, in no way discrediting an entire genre, but instead simply connecting the dots to the same news everyone’s been thinking - it’s time for a real change. If you’re getting tired of hearing the same things, that latest TikTok hit that’s almost identical to one from last month, or just the same words used over and over again, then you’ll likely find the amusing narrative of ‘How to Write a Pop Song’ one that carries value and hilarity all in one.

Written by: Tatiana Whybrow

Photo Credits: Unknown

// This coverage was supported and created via Musosoup, #SustainableCurator.

#tatiana

[no-more-tales-tavern]

An Even More Magical World

Harry Potter D&D AU Muse Masterlist

As a note: All of the characters detailed below will be written as being at least eighteen years or older—there are no minors on this blog, and no sexualizing minors allowed.

Harry Potter (Human Wild Magic Sorcerer) For so long, Harry had been treated like he was different, like he was abnormal, like he didn’t belong. He had no idea just how right his relatives had always been—not until a kindly goliath knocked their door down and revealed to him that his family was rich with magic in their veins, and he was fit to inherit that magical upbringing. He was eager to leave and learn the truth, but not before learning also that his parents had been killed by a wicked and terrible evil.

Ron Weasley (Human Battle Master Fighter) Born the youngest son of the humble but proud Weasley family, Ron had many wishes for greatness, but few illusions he would ever reach the heights his brothers had. Instead, he focused himself on what he knew best—how to fight, and he got damn good at it. Before long, he proved himself to be one of the best fighters in the land, and a steady and sure friend to Harry who he always was quick to defend.

Hermione Granger (Human Transmutation Wizard) Despite not coming from much or from magic, Hermione had a knack for the magical, and devoured ancient tomes like a child would devour full boxes of cookies. She studied hard, perfecting her craft, studying long into the night and spending hours upon hours pouring over the ancient texts. There was so much to learn, so much she yearned to learn—she only wished she had the time that the long-lived elves did.

Draco Malfoy (High Elf Great Old One Warlock) Born into wealth and magic, Draco was well aware that his upbringing and his livelihood would serve him well for years to come…but he still needed to make sure the peasants around him were aware of that, too. Of course, his power didn’t come from studying—such things were beneath him—but from his father, and his father before him. The great old ones, one could say—though never to his face.

Neville Longbottom (Human Land Druid) As the newest in a long line of proud warriors, heroes, and champions of battle, Neville couldn’t help but feel a flash of embarrassment that he was anything but that. He was a humble boy, much more at peace working with his plants and tending to his garden than swinging a sword and striking down his foes. However, even a humble gardener can sometimes feel the call to adventure when a friend needs his aid, or the burn of vengeance as his parents’ killer wanders the land.

Fred and George Weasley (Human Rogue/Artificers) Without the burden of being the youngest son, nor the burden of being anywhere close to the oldest, the Weasley twins George and Fred were free to explore and express themselves however they pleased. The two had a natural knack for causing mischief and getting into trouble—in all the best ways, of course—and so the two quickly began doing so on purpose, starting lives of chaos and trickery and spreading their tricks wherever they went.

Luna Lovegood (Human Aberrant Mind Sorcerer) It takes a very special mind to see things that aren’t there. That was what Luna’s mother always told her, before she passed away. And Luna had a truly special, wonderful mind—the things she saw were beautiful, wonderful, unless she was seeing what was in the mind of someone who was truly ugly and terrible on the inside. She didn’t mind too much, though—she wanted to see all the beauty of the world she could, setting off with a skip in her step.

Fleur Delacour (Eladrin Glamour Bard) One glance is all it takes to be utterly enraptured by the sight of Fleur Delacour. Born of the Feywild, her strange and twisting Eladrin nature makes her a sight to behold, and one that you cannot help but get lost in. Fleur won’t deny that she loves the attention, of course, but there is much more in her life than just being watched—she wants to prove herself more than just the beautiful damsel, but also the daring hero who can wield the blade to save her, if need be.

Severus Snape (Half-Elf Alchemist Artificer) It’s truly terrible what a life of mistakes can lead you to. Foolish decisions as a child leading you down the wrong paths in life, serving figures that bring nothing but misery. Severus had believed he was in the right for serving the Undying One, but when he learned of the cult’s intentions for the woman he’d loved, he realized just how wrong he’d been. He’d been too slow to save her, but perhaps now…he could avenge her.

Sirius Black (Dark Elf Swashbuckler Rogue) Despite appearances, Sirius is nothing if not a charming devil of an elf—once the best friend, the truest friend, of Harry’s own father, he is nothing if not loyal and devoted. Which makes it all the more frustrating that he had been blamed for his friends’ murders, and thrown into prison without so much as a hearing before. Thankfully, no prison can hold a rogue of his skill for long, and Sirius is out on his own again, intent to prove his innocence.

Nymphadora Tonks (Changeling Inquisitor Rogue) The ability to change your appearance is very handy when trying to get to the bottom of twisted and convoluted criminal organizations. In direct opposition of her mother’s former family, Nymphadora had spent her life aiding as a consulting detective of sorts, looking into the cases regarding criminal activity most people couldn’t touch. Her mother’s family was a black mark on their whole lives, and every crime she unwound was one less stain on their names.

Bellatrix Lestrange (Dark Elf Warlock Antagonist) There was nothing fanatical about her adoration—it was just logic. It was just logical to want to serve and devote one’s self so completely and utterly to the one being who could cheat death forever. Such power, such will, must be adored, must be worshiped. Bellatrix wasn’t insane, she was enlightened, and the filthy blasphemers who called her patron a foul fiend were the ones who needed to be cleansed from the earth.

Note: From here onwards, the characters mentioned are explicitly written as D&D counterparts of the fanfic versions of them from a Harry Potter wip I’ve been working on in the background.

Bellatrix Black (Dark Elf Shadow Sorcerer) Just as her cousin had been, she had been wrongly accused as well. Bella had served nearly two decades in prison for a crime she did not commit, kept away from her son for no reason but being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It filled her with wrath, but she was not a fool—she wouldn’t rush out like a rabid beast. She would be careful, and with her cousin’s help, she could clear her name, prove her innocence to her son, and kill her bastard of an ex-husband.

Daphne Greengrass (Human Druid/Rogue) It may seem laughable for her to have such a fascination with plants with a name like hers, but if you tried to laugh in Daphne’s face, you would quickly find yourself having trouble seeing straight. The young heiress of the powerful Greengrass family was cold and aloof, and took to her druidic talents with utmost sincerity and severity. It was a long-standing family tradition, and honestly, it was something she enjoyed learning and studying more and more.

Susan Bones (Halfling Life Cleric) Susan is known for being a warm and welcoming friend—her small, shapely form gives the softest of hugs, and she’s always so willing to offer a shoulder to rest on and a willing ear to listen. A few outside her group have called her the mom-friend of her band, and perhaps that’s more true than most—but as she grew up without a mother of her own, only raised by her aunt, she can’t help but reach out, and offer that same sort of warmth to everyone she meets.

Parvati and Padma Patil(Human Glamour and Lore Bards) Identical twins in nearly every fashion, in every presentation, Parvati and Padma differed in one important distinction—their chosen college of bardic arts. Ever the show-stopper, ever the one eager to draw attention, despite her own personal shyness, Parvati walked the path of a Glamour Bard. And ever the intellect, ever the curious of mind, eager to chat away at the lore she’d just found, Padma studied Lore. Despite it, neither were ever seen apart.

~Harry Potter OCs~

Romulus Antares Lestrange-Black (Half-Elf Redemption Paladin) Bound low by the wicked reputation his parents left in their wake, Romeo has devoted himself to the clearing and cleaning of his family name. He vowed, at a young age, to be better than either of his wicked and terrible parents, and that should they ever escape the prisons that held them for their crimes, he would personally be the one to end them.

Mercutio Black(Eladrin Redemption Paladin) Born the son of a wicked dark elf criminal and a gorgeous archfey, Mercutio is an elf with unique gifts and talents, and a desire to leave the world better than how his father before him left it. With charm and charisma that few can resist, he has already made quite a name for himself, if only by way of the many women who now sing his praises instead of those for a god.

#brewery tour (important posts)

[gaykarstaagforever]

50 years ago exactly, an elder care non-profit in Pittsburgh paid George Romero to make a short film about the difficulties faced by the elderly in the United States.

What he made is The Amusement Park, a nightmarish metaphor for aging that is by turns emotionally devastating and darkly funny, and 50 years later, as troublingly relevant - or more so - than it was then.

If the customer accepted the film and used it for its intended purpose, whatever that was, I don't know, because the Internet is vague about it. It was the last for-hire film Romero made, and if you watch it you'll understand why - as an "industrial film," this is way too weirdly unnerving and artful to stay on topic. This man was destined for greater things, and swiftly went on to do them (Dawn of the Dead would come 5 years after this, and many elements of The Amusement Park resurface in that movie, including exact music tracks, a biker gang, and the effectively overwhelming sense of dread).

Lincoln Maazel brilliantly stars as the narrator and unnamed lead, a man who has just reached retirement age and is eager to enjoy that exciting new world. The movie then proceeds to carefully and gently destroy him, as he and us are dragged from one terrible set piece to the next.

The movie is an allegory, and the metaphors are sometimes too simplistic for their own good. But Romero always has a way of making cheap and simple emotionally effective, and this might be the finest showcase of that. Scenes of note include a young couple asking a fortune teller to show them their future, which is them dying old and forgotten in roach-infested tenement housing. The lead eventually discovers one simple thing that makes him happy, and we watch him melt into hopeless sobs as it is yanked away from him after 3 minutes. There are repeated instances where we see elderly people of color suffering from hunger, fraud, and subpar medical care, despite their loud protestations.

This film was considered lost from the late 70s until 2016, and it has now been restored and is on Shudder (and maybe other platforms; you have the same Google I do). However you have to, seek it out and watch it. It will be one of the most troubling and thought-provoking hours you ever spend with anything. Especially if you're starting to notice nose hair and nap-induced back pain.

This is the sort of film that will stick with you for months or years. And if you're a Romero fan and haven't seen it yet, it is where Dawn of the Dead was born. Give it ten minutes and you'll know exactly what I mean. Dawn is more refined, but this is way more powerful.

Watch it, then call your grandparents, if you're lucky enough to still have them. You are probably their joy, whether they express that or not. Give them your time, before its too late. Trust me, you'll regret that you didn't once they're gone.

#the amusement park #shudder #george a romero #romero #horror #movie review

[trumanlilac]

/ / c h a p t e r - f o u r / /

"Where have you been all day?" My dad asked as soon as I walked through the door. I tucked my hand in my sleeve slyly, hiding the number George had written on it.

"Psychologists." I answered, eager to get to my bedroom.

"Until nearly night? It's pouring outside I started to get worried." He said, crouched over and looking through a pile of junk mail.

I supposed he had lost something. I didn't ask, otherwise he'd probably tell me he needed help. Helping him was the last thing I felt like doing...too much had happened in my day for me to not want to just go lay on my bed and reflect on it, and write in my journal.

"Oh. I met some friends." I said slowly.

He looked up at me, putting the envelopes in his hand down.

"Friends?" He asked.

I just nodded, I knew he was surprised, but he didn't even seem happy for me...he'd always wanted me to make friends and be more social, what was the big deal? I could see the stress in his eyes.

"Listen, Katie, don't go around calling everyone your...friends...friends are people you--"

"Spend a lot of time with and know everything about," I recited, "I know, dad. I meant I met...new people." I sighed.

He laughed, a false and sarcastic laugh, "look I'm not trying to bring you down I just--"

"I know, dad, it's fine. May I go to my room now?" I asked, growing frustrated with him.

"Well, you're an adult, do what you want." He shrugged, going back to his papers.

I stared at him for a moment, I felt embarrassed all of a sudden. In front of my own father. I felt stupid to have told him I had made...friends today. I felt stupid to have asked to go to my room.

My dad and I were pretty distant from one another. We had an okay relationship, I'm not exactly a daddy's girl or anything close. We have our laughs, our ups, our downs...he's pretty much just whatever. I do love him though.

He looked up at me, wondering why I was still standing there, obviously.

I walked away, finally. Heading upstairs and opening my bedroom door. I had seen all of my school books stacked on my desk.

Sweet! He ordered them already.

Usually my dad was slow at everything, leaving it to him to order my university text books I feared I might not have gotten them at all.I figured my mom had probably called him up and nagged him enough about it. I walked over to the window, watching the rain. London was strange. It was beautiful, probably the most beautiful place I had ever seen...but...I hadn't been many places in my lifetime.

I still couldn't understand why my dad moved so far away...we had nothing here. No family, no friends...and he was so far away from mother...

I took my jacket off and pulled out a hanger from the closet, hanging it on my doorknob to dry off. Then took out my phone, recording George's number to it. I wanted so badly to text him, but it seemed so juvenile. Only in high school was it okay to text so much...I noticed as high school was over, most people only text each other if they needed something, or had something to say really fast...

"It's me Katie." I sent, just so he'd take down my number also. I set down my phone and stood up. I turned back around and stuck it under my pillow. I don't care when he replies. I lied to myself.

I went to the drawer and pulled out some leggings and a comfy t-shirt. I wished I had a pair of sweats...they would have been the most comfortable bit of clothing to own and wear as of now. I didn't have clothes like that...I only even had one pair of leggings. I dressed up a lot, just because I loved to mimic the old time actresses of the late fifties and early sixties...and if I wasn't doing that, I was in jeans. I owned tons and tons of jeans.

Sometimes I don't even know who I am. I'm all kinds of people .One day I'm Marilyn Monroe, the next Joan Jett. How do you just go from that to...that?! I confused even my own self. My style was all over the place.

My notification tone went off.

I turned and looked at my pillow.

I'll change my clothes first, then answer. That way, it seems like I'm a busy person. Not waiting for his reply at all...I started changing, quickly without noticing. "K," I bet that's what he said. What is he supposed to say, "oh hey you're so beautiful I love you let's get married and die together?"

I laughed at my thoughts, you're so stupid.

Oh no...why are you caring so much, you can't like George, you don't even know him. All he did was give you a ride home. Matty was the one you had your eye on, right? Yes. Correct. Stop thinking so much about George.

I sighed and walked over to the bed, plopping down and grabbing my phone from under my pillow.

"Hey, you're actually in your own house now right? Ha."

I smiled right away, he actually asked me a question...he didn't just say..."K."

I sighed and responded, "Yesss...thanks again :)"

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

I'd never been so excited for psychology. I had spent all morning changing outfits, I ended up wearing all black...with dark lipstick...MAC's Film Noir. it seemed smart at the time, but now I hoped that when I saw Matty he wouldn't notice that I'd decided to dress like him to get his attention or something. I sat in the same seat as yesterday.

I didn't have to wait, I knew Elaine had no one in her office the moment. But I hoped to see Matty again. Maybe he'll be late...he came in a few minutes after you last time...remember...

I looked at the entrance, feeling like a creep I finally stopped staring at it and looked somewhere else. Elaine came out, looking at me and smiling.

"You're welcome to come in now if you'd like?" She said, her shirt lower cut that even last week. I tried my hardest not to look at her breasts, it's not that I wanted to, they were just there. You couldn't help but to look at them. Maybe she was waiting for Matty too, the way she was dressed.

I smirked at my stupidity.

Why would she be waiting on him anyway? She probably had a husband or something. I wished I could turn my mind off momentarily, but that of course is not possible.

I took a seat, she shut the door and grabbed her clipboard, sitting down also.

"How are you today?" She asked.

"Great." I smiled.

She raised her eyebrows, "well that is an improvement since last week. What's gotten you so up?"

I looked around, smiling still, "I've met people. I usually feel alone all the time, and I am. But I actually met people, and one of those people have been talking to me quite often."

Elaine smiled, "and how does that make you feel?"

I didn't really feel anything except...great..."great." I said.

She positioned herself more in her seat, looking at me, "try to find a deeper explanation of your feelings, a deeper connection with them...than just great."

I closed my eyes for a second, trying to really get in touch with how I felt, "I guess..." I thought a little longer, "...important..." I opened my eyes, Elaine nodded, watching me.

"Like...I actually matter in the world. I'm part of the universe...not just watching it." I said.

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

Matty hadn't shown up that day.

I wondered if he'd quit or thought it was stupid...maybe he didn't need it...I didn't need it...my stupid dad just thought I ought to have it with the stress load of university piling on my back that it would blow off the internal steam...he said I bottled myself up too much...and I guess he was right. But that's what I had my journal for, as well as my sketchbook. That's where I released everything.

Every pain and every ache. Every thought in my brain, or illusion of my mind.

Well, at least I wouldn't have to face the embarrassment of him seeing me in all black. Or maybe it wasn't as big a deal as I thought, I mean hey he's not the only person on earth who was allowed to wear the color, right?

I walked out of the entrance door, just as, bumping into someone and falling right onto my ass. My purse fell off my shoulders, all of it's contents spilling onto the floor as I hadn't zipped it before I left Elaine's office.

"I'm so sorry, excuse me," the voice. I looked up, it was Matty.

I quickly tried to put my self together, fixing my hair and grabbing my purse, hurrying to get everything back inside, especially my lady products, even though it was perfectly normal to have them, I still didn't want him to see them. He helped, handing me my California ID card and driver's licenses, while sneaking glances at the photos as he did so.

"Katie," he smiled.

"Hi, Matty, I didn't know it was you." I smiled.

"I didn't know it was...you," he shrugged, "hey look I'm really late, I'm really sorry." He said, walking backwards slowly, "I'll see you later?" He asked.

"I...guess so." I shrugged, I didn't know if he really meant it or if he was just saying it casually...casually of course. Stop over thinking everything.

"Alright, see ya." I waved, smiling as I watched him hurry into Elaine's office.

#omg! a matty healy fanfic #trumanlilac #the 1975 #matty healy #george daniel #ross macdonald #adam hann #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 fanfiction #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writer on tumblr

[gr33nbull]

Seeing a lot of divided opinions on the Bottas/Russell incident.

What’s everyone’s thoughts on it?

I personally think Bottas wasn’t at fault, to me he went a little wide on that curve, but they’ve even said that happens on that section of the track. Plus there was plenty of space for Russell to get by. Bottas moves left knowing what’s coming but George clipped the grass and lost it.

Shit on Bottas all you want, I personally don’t think he was at fault with that. Should he really be fighting a Williams? No. Bad weekend for him, and seeing Verstappen and Hamilton lap him was embarrassing. But that doesn’t change the fact Russell was the one that misjudged it and plowed into him. The impact for both was fucking awful to see!

Also, I found it utterly hilarious Bottas flipped him off lol, but if it’s true George was blaming him before patting his head then I can see why Bottas was so vexed.

The most important thing is that they are both okay. In particular Valtteri with the double impact he had. Once again today proved the Halo is so important. Without that Bottas probably would’ve been very badly hurt. Can’t believe people still bash the halo after Grosjeans incident.

#seen so many arguments on this #just can’t justify how you can blame Bottas he didn’t purposely move right??? #you can see him jolt left #I think he knew what was coming #but George was just way too eager and lost it #either way this was on George #love him #but it’s true #anyways #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #sebastian vettel #charles leclerc #lance stroll #lando norris #mick schumacher #carlos sainz jr #daniel ricciardo #valtteri bottas #george russell #nicholas latifi

[padawansuggest]

Okay so some people are talking about how Ahsoka’s midichlorian count might have ‘jumped’ being Anakin’s Padawan because of her skill level nearly rivaling him later and I have a few things to say about how misunderstanding this is. I’m not gonna go essay mode cause those annoy me too but here’s the bullet points of where I’m coming from:

Obi-Wan’s canon midi count is around 13k

Ahsoka’s is estimated to be around 13-14k

Anakin’s is around 28-40k. That’s coming from Lucas btw. The general consensus is that he’s 28-30k but the writers themselves have the wish to put him, untampered, probably Vader levels of power, at 40k. George Lucas said that even tho the official number is 29,375 that it could be as high as 40k which probably means that Anakin is holding back.

Palpatine was about 20k.

Yoda’s was about 17.7k.

For the rumor mill: according to the writers themselves, losing a limb wouldn’t make your count drop in any way that actually matters why the fuck are fans so eager to call Anakin weak after he lost a limb???? His power literally got more and more the older he got guys lmao.

Obi-Wan not only kept up with Anakin, but often surpassed him in raw ability and skill. That didn’t change just because Anakin had a 29,375 midi count.

You know that thing Ani does where he crushes a droid with pure force skill? Yeah he learned that from Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan did that move in the clone wars without a flinch. The move itself isn’t determined by midi count, the scale of which they can both do it is. Anakin could likely do that on an entire space ship if he tried.

Obi-Wan, out of everyone I’ve mentioned, has the lowest midi count here. Smallest scale, cause no one’s gonna argue he doesn’t have the skill.

Luke was suggested to have a similar count to Anakin, but Leia’s was probably closer to 18-20k. So that’s probably a 10k difference between them but even still Leia is NOT low in that department. That’s higher than the majority of the Jedi order themselves. Growing up near a functional Jedi order Ani likely would have put her in classes just to learn control. Her mom probably put her through a lot of fighting types just to get her that level of control, while Luke, unfortunately, probably had to have force suggestions convincing him not to use any ability at all while Obi-Wan shielded them from the empire.

Now. My general conclusion here: I don’t think midichlorian count determines what you can do. I think it determines the scale of what you can do it on. And I also don’t think that knowledge and being able to go toe to toe with a Sith is going to mean your count is higher.

A person to person battle isn’t the same thing as crushing an entire space ship with your mind. You don’t need the same count to fight someone as you do to collapse an entire hanger door. Vader could tear durasteal like plaster and crush droids with a thought. But taking on Vader himself? Frankly that takes cunning (knowing how to dodge overpowered blows and walls crushing in on you) and the simple skill to fight on his level. Ahsoka has that. That doesn’t mean her count jumped.

#star wars #obi wan kenobi #clone wars #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #midichlorians #darth vader #vaderkin #I’m not saying she’s not powerful I’m saying y’all need to stop thinking lower midi counts are shit #edit that Luke and Leia are apparently both 23 #but that same source put Obi wan at 17k which isn’t right lol #and a lot of other incorrect counts lmao #but I like 23 for the twins tho #meta