#he's pitching a story to taylor

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Amazon's bestselling "bitter lemon" energy drink was bottled delivery driver piss

Today (Oct 20), I'm in Charleston, WV at Charleston's Taylor Books from 12h-14h.

For a brief time this year, the bestselling "bitter lemon drink" on Amazon was "Release Energy," which consisted of the harvested urine of Amazon delivery drivers, rebottled for sale by Catfish UK prankster Oobah Butler in a stunt for a new Channel 4 doc, "The Great Amazon Heist":

https://www.channel4.com/programmes/the-great-amazon-heist

Collecting driver piss is surprisingly easy. Amazon, you see, puts its drivers on a quota that makes it impossible for them to drive safely, park conscientiously, or, indeed, fulfill their basic human biological needs. Amazon has long waged war on its employees' kidneys, marking down warehouse workers for "time off task" when they visit the toilets.

As tales of drivers pissing – and shitting! – in their vans multiplied, Amazon took decisive action. The company enacted a strict zero tolerance policy for drivers returning to the depot with bottles of piss in their vans.

That's where Butler comes in: the roads leading to Amazon delivery depots are lined with bottles of piss thrown out of delivery vans by drivers who don't want to lose their jobs, which made harvesting the raw material for "Release Energy" a straightforward matter.

Butler was worried that he wouldn't be able to list his product on Amazon because he didn't have the requisite "food and drinks licensing" certificates, so he listed his drink in Amazon's refillable pump dispenser category. But Amazon's systems detected the mismatch and automatically shifted the product into the drinks section.

Butler enlisted some confederates to place orders for his drink, and it quickly rocketed to the top of Amazon's listings for the category, which led to Amazon's recommendation engine pushing the item on people who weren't in on the gag. When these orders came in, Butler pulled the plug, but not before an Amazon rep telephoned him to pitch him turning packaging, shipping and fulfillment over to Amazon:

https://www.wired.com/story/amazon-let-its-drivers-urine-be-sold-as-an-energy-drink/

The Release Energy prank was just one stunt Butler pulled for his doc; he also went undercover at an Amazon warehouse, during a period when Amazon hired an extra 1,000 workers for its warehouses in Coventry, UK, in a successful bid to dilute pro-union sentiment in his workforce in advance of a key union vote:

https://jacobin.com/2023/10/the-great-amazon-heist-oobah-butler-review

Butler's stint as an Amazon warehouse worker only lasted a couple of days, ending when Amazon recognized him and fired him.

The contrast between Amazon's ability to detect an undercover reporter and its inability to spot bottles of piss being marketed as bitter lemon energy drink says it all, really. Corporations like Amazon hire vast armies of "threat intelligence" creeps who LARP at being CIA superspies, subjecting employees and activists to intense and often illegal surveillance.

But while Amazon's defensive might is laser-focused on the threat of labor organizers and documentarians, the company can't figure out that one of its bestselling products is bottles of its tormented drivers' own urine.

In the USA, the FTC is suing Amazon for its monopolistic tactics, arguing that the company has found ways to raise prices and reduce quality by trapping manufacturers and sellers with its logistics operation, taking $0.45-$0.51 out of every dollar they earn and forcing them to raise prices at all retailers:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/25/greedflation/#commissar-bezos

The Release Energy stunt shows where Amazon's priorities are. Not only did Release Energy get listed on Amazon without any quality checks, the company actually nudged it into a category where it was more likely to be consumed by a person. The only notice the company took of Release Energy was in its logistics and manufacturing department – the part of the business that extracts the monopoly rents at issue in the FTC case – which tracked Butler down in order to sell him these services.

The drivers whose piss Butler collected don't work directly for Amazon, they work for a Delivery Service Partner. These DSPs are victims of a pyramid scheme that Amazon set up. DSP operators lease vans and pay to have them skinned in Amazon livery and studded with Amazon sensors. They take out long-term leases on depots, and hire drivers who dress in Amazon uniforms. Their drivers are minutely monitored by Amazon, down to the movements of their eyeballs.

But none of this is "Amazon" – it's all run by an "entrepreneur," whom Amazon can cut loose without notice, leaving them with unfairly terminated employees, outstanding workers' comp claims, a fleet of Amazon-skinned vehicles and unbreakable facilities leases:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/17/revenge-of-the-chickenized-reverse-centaurs/

Speaking to Wired, Amazon denied that it forces its drivers to piss in bottles, but Butler clearly catches a DSP dispatcher telling drivers "If you pee in a bottle and leave it [in the vehicle], you will get a point for that" – that is, the part you get punished for isn't the peeing, it's the leaving.

Amazon's defense against the FTC is that it spares no effort to keep its marketplace safe. As Amazon spokesperson James Drummond says, they use "industry-leading tools to prevent genuinely unsafe products being listed." But the only industry-leading tools in evidence are tools to bust unions and screw suppliers.

In her landmark Yale Law Review paper, "Amazon's Antitrust Paradox," FTC Chair Lina Khan makes a brilliant argument that Amazon's alleged benefits to "consumers" are temporary at best, illusory at worst:

https://www.yalelawjournal.org/note/amazons-antitrust-paradox

In Butler's documentary, Khan's hypothesis is thoroughly validated: here's a company extracting hundreds of billions from merchants who raise prices to compensate, and those monopoly rents are "invested" in union-busting and countermeasures against investigative journalists, while the tools to keep you from accidentally getting a bottle of piss in the mail are laughably primitive.

Truly, Amazon is the apex predator of the platform era:

https://pluralistic.net/ApexPredator

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/20/release-energy/#the-bitterest-lemon

My next novel is The Lost Cause, a hopeful novel of the climate emergency. Amazon won't sell the audiobook, so I made my own and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter!

#pluralistic #release energy #channel 4 #amazon #corporate intelligence #labor #unions #amazon labor union #the great Amazon heist #catfish uk #oobah butler #delivery service partner

[mrsmikaelsxn]

Santa Klaus

masterlist

pairing: niklaus mikaelson x female reader

warnings: fluff, some gore/blood, nikki being your lapdog, possesive, kissing, cursing, humor that was needed in tvd

summary: just some scenes of you and nik being a dream couple

a/n: idk with this one but these scenes popped into my head and i thought they were cute

song: paper rings - taylor swift

"Niklaus!" you snap at him, as he stands at the doorway covered in blood. You two were at a store and a guy accidentally backed into you. He decided that the man didn't deserve to see another day after bumping into your precious self.

"Sorry, love- actually no, he deserved it," Klaus shrugs holding his hands up.

"Well in that case... come a little closer," you giggle. He narrows his eyes at you, but of course listens. He takes a slow step into the room and freezes when he feels himself soaked in cold water.

You burst out laughing as he stares at the wall. He slowly turns to you, as you continue to laugh.

"Figured you needed a shower, you know, for all that blood," you get out in between you giggles.

"That's it, if I am cold, you're going to be cold too," he grins as he speeds towards you, bringing you into a cold hug.

"Nik! Let me go!"

"Now why would I do that?"

You were in the kitchen baking some cookies. You had the trays of them sitting on the stove as they cooled. You put some on a plate and turn around to get a paper towel. As you look back at the dish, you notice one missing.

"Hm, that's weird," you frowned. This then happened two more times, you realized it had to be Klaus. Either that or the cookies just happen to disappear.

"Nikki darling, stop being a baby and hiding," you pout. "Come out and face me like a real man," you try to say in a funny deep voice.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he suppresses a smirk.

"Do you take me for a fool Niklaus?"

"... no?" you bring your hand up and smack the back of his head.

"Hey, what was th-" you cut him off by pressing your lips on his. You swipe your tongue on his bottom lip so he opens his mouth. He does, and you allow your tongue to roam his mouth. You pull back a few moments later.

"Funny, you taste like chocolate chip cookies," you laugh and start to run away.

"You sneak!" Klaus yells as he speeds up to you, throwing you over his shoulder and smiling at your adorable giggles.

"AH!" Nik's high pitch scream reaches your ears while he jumps and covers his eyes.

You two were currently in the dark, watching a horror movie. You have seen it a few times already, so the jumpscares didn't bother you. The movie didn't interest you anymore either, but you watched it for the mere amusement you get from seeing Nik get scared.

"Nik don't be a wuss," you playfully roll your eyes.

"Did you see how that man looked?! He was- bloody hell!" Nik shouts as the guy popped up out of nowhere.

"Niklaus, you're as scary as that man to most-"

"Tosser! If I were still human, I would have died from a heart attack by now- fuck! Okay, love, that's it, we are watching something else"

He reaches over you and snatches the remote, putting on toy story.

"See, watching the story of toys that come to life is much more interesting. Don't you agree, love?"

"Sure... baby," you mutter with a grin. Laughter spills out of you when he attacks you with tickles.

It was Christmas, you were dressed in a lovely deep red gown and your hair and makeup was done. While you looked like royalty, across from you was a Nik in a Santa costume.

You had been trying to get him to do this for years, but he never agreed. He refused to have something as stupid as a Santa costume ruin his reputation.

He even said, "I wouldn't be caught dead wearing this bloody thing"

To which you replied, "oh well, then I suppose it's a good thing you are already technically dead," you shrug with a cheeky smile.

Now that he finally gave in, your bucket list has been completed. He said he wouldn't leave the house with it, but he didn't say you couldn't take pictures.

"I don't see what's wrong with it, you look great in my opinion," you gave his fake beard a little tug.

"Y/n this was a horrible idea," he shakes his head.

"I think it was a great one, Santa Klaus," you give him a bright smile.

"This was very unnecessary, love"

"Your siblings disagree," your pretty lips turn into a small smirk.

"I beg your pardon?!"

A few moments ago, you sent some pictures of him to a secret group chat you're in with his siblings. Nik - of course - isn't in this one. The one with all of you is full of threats he sends to his family who mess around with him.

The photos got you replys such as, "I can't believe you got Niklaus to finally agree to that, LOL," from Elijah. "You underestimate Nik's love for you," and "I'm going to print these out and tape them everywhere in the house," from Rebekah. As well as, "I bloody love you, darling," and "my brother is going to kill me for what I'm about to do with these," from Kol. Finn gave you a simple, "well done," which you almost rolled your eyes at his unenthusiastic message.

"Oops," you shrug with a fake innocence.

You were currently hunched over, laughing your arse off. You got Nik to wear an Easter Bunny costume. To your surprise, he let you paint whiskers on his face, along with a pink nose.

You finally are able to stop laughing, and look over his shoulder at the line of little children in a line, waiting to take picture with him.

"Go on, bunny. The kids are waiting," you peck his lips and pat his head.

"If you were anyone else you would be dead by now," he grumbles.

He was taking the pictures, when it was a new kids turn. You saw the fear in his eyes, you understood. You were also scared of the Easter Bunnies and Santa Clause's that you would see in stores and malls.

When he got to Nik, he sat on his right lap and started to cry. As you were about to go over, you hear Niklaus yelp as he quickly grabs the kid and lifts him off his lap and on to the floor.

You were confused when he rushed over to where you were standing, but burst out laughing with tears in your eyes as you saw a wet stain on his leg.

"Oh- m-my goodness! Th- this is gold!" you laugh out, grabbing your phone taking more pictures that you'll send to the groupchat later.

"Stupid children, I quit"

You and Nik were in some random fancy restaurant in Paris. You both knew nothing in french, so you though you would have some fun.

You planned out a fake scenario to get a reaction out of the people in there with you both.

You fake gasp loudly, grabbing peoples attention around you.

"You sick fool!" you place your hand on your chest as you dramatically stand up. "You cheated on me?! With my sister!"

The room fills with synchronized gasps from the people around you.

"Love! No, I would never!"

"I just saw a picture! I also got sent a photo of you with what looks like my best friend!" More gasps come around you as people look between you both in shock.

Nik stands up hiding his amusement.

"They are fake! I was going to propose to you tonight! He says pulling out a fake ring he found," holding it in front of you, people start whispering with interest at what was unfolding before their eyes.

"My friend had the same ring the last time I saw her! How could you," you slap him in the face, knowing he was going to whine about how that was not a part of the act, later. Gasps of shock chorus around while some people have their eyes wide, and some are laughing into their hands.

You turn and speed walk out as Nik follows. Once you get outside, you both burst out laughing after holding it in for so long. You hold out your hand for a first bump as he connects his fist with yours.

"Oh that was brillitant!" you smile, wiping fake tears from under your eyes.

"Did you see their faces, love? They were bloody hilarious," Nik grins.

"NIKLAUS! Y/N!" are the shouts from Kol and Elijah as they get covered with eggs and flour. You, Bex, and Nik set up a series of pranks to go off on them.

"Alright!" Bekah highfives you with a bright smile.

"Nikki we should do more pranks with Bex," you hug the girls waist.

"But pranks are our thing," he pouts.

"Now they are ours and Bex's," you give him a thumbs up.

"Yeah, Nikki- please don't dagger me again," Bekah says looking away from her brothers death glare.

"FUCK!" more shouts come from the kitchen.

You and Bekah were shopping with a grumpy Nik trailing behind you. You had been at this for at least three hours now and he wanted to go back and cuddle with you in bed.

You just tried on a tight club dress and stepped into the couch area were the other two were waiting.

While NIk was drooling over you, suddenly happy about shopping, Bex stood up and walked over to you.

"Perfect! You look so hot!" Nik nods as Rebekah's statement while still staring at you in awe. "Those boys through the window seem to agree with me," Bekah nods her head in the direction of the window where a small group of boys around your age were drinking in your figure.

Niks head snaps over to them and his face hardens. He stands up and walks over to you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

"You look bloody stunning as always, my love," he kisses your head. "We are buying this dress. You know, I don't know what I did to deserve you,"

"You didn't have to do anything," your lips tip upwards.

"Ugh, you two," Rebekah rolls her eyes. "Nik is not coming with us next time, you guys are too sappy, makes me sick," she sighs.

"Don't be jealous, Rebekah"

You were finishing up some final touches on a tray of pastries you baked for Nik. You made all his favorites and decorated them to look cute. You hear a knock on the door and look out the window. You see Nik at the door with flowers in his hands.

You open the door and smile at him, "Nikki, hello!"

"Hi, love," he smiles and pecks your lips. He hands you the flowers as he strolls in the house.

"Oh, Nik! Come in the kitchen"

You pick up the pastry tray after putting the flowers in a vase. "Tadaaa!"

"My favorites! Thank you, sweetheart," he kisses you.

"You are very welcome, thank you for the flowers"

"You are very welcome. I love you so much, you know"

"Of course I know, I also know that I love you so much too"

#nina writes 🤭💗 #klaus mikaleson imagine #niklaus mikaelson #niklaus x reader #niklaus x you #klaus mikaelson x you #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson imagine #mikaelsons #mikaelsons x you #mikaelsons x reader #rebekah mikaelson #kol mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #finn miakelson #rebekah mikaelson x reader #kol mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson x reader #humor #the vampire diaries #tvd #vampire diaries #vampire diaries fluff #the vampire diaries fluff #mikaelson fluff #soft niklaus

[greenorangevioletgrass]

fever pitch (b.b.) - masterlist

Arsenal and USMNT captain Bradley Bradshaw attends the mononymous music sensation Y/N's concert with a friendship bracelet and a dream. Little did he know that they soon embark on an epic love story fit for pop royalty...

pairing: footballer!bradley x popstar!reader warnings: meet cute. so much fluff. smut (18+ only). some angst, but mostly feel-good. fame shenanigans.

PROLOGUE: mastermind - taylor swift

PART ONE: bewitched - laufey

PART TWO: lavender haze - taylor swift

PART THREE: don’t blame me - taylor swift

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun imagine #top gun au #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw smut #footballer!bradley #footballer!bradley x popstar!reader #ava writes #fic masterlist

[kykyonthemoon]

Xavier doing a light show for you short story please? Thank you. 😊

Fireflies

— Lost in a dark place after a mission, you find comfort and support from the little friends sent by him.

ಇ. Xavier x Reader/MC

ಇ. Tags: soft fluff, no established relationship yet, guiding lights

ಇ. Word count: ~1k1

ಇ. Masterlist

ಇ. Notes: This fic was inspired by the two songs: Fireflies by Owl City and Daylight by Taylor Swift.

Thank you for the request <3

The lights above your head flickered and then turned off completely, plunging you into darkness in the heart of a cold abandoned tunnel. You quickly turned on the watch on your wrist, but its flickering light was little compared to this pitch-dark place.

Trying to remain cool, you used the watch to scan the surroundings once. There was no longer any threat as your mission was completed. What remained was to find a way out of here. Since this location was relatively distant from Linkon, the tunnel had been abandoned, and the map had not been updated, you could no longer rely on the Hunter's Watch to discover the way out. So you fumbled in the dark and returned the same way you had entered.

But the battle just now with the Wandering Monsters had collapsed a section of the tunnel, making it impossible for you to return, so you must go on. The further you went, the darker it became. The cold and all the unpleasant smells in the tunnel made you dizzy. You truly wanted to escape this place.

Because it evoked unsettling memories.

You had no idea what those memories were or when they had happened to you. You felt a faint sense of being imprisoned, abandoned in the dark and cold. There was no life—only oblivion. All of a sudden, you were paralyzed with fear. You were not a weak Hunter and were completely able to finish the mission on your own. But, at that very moment, you needed a companion more than ever.

At that point, you noticed a tiny bit of light ahead. Perhaps the exit was right there. You rushed towards it, only to find that the light was also racing at you.

You paused. The light moved. It resembled a firefly, but with a brighter golden hue than usual. It danced around you, as if it was delighted to have discovered you in a place like this. You extended a hand to receive it. Its warmth seeped into the palm of your hand, calming and reassuring you.

Then, from where it came, hundreds more fireflies just like the first one appeared. They flew close together, filling in to wake up the tunnel that had recently lost power as if they were hosting a light party. They followed one another, whirling over your head and buzzing around you. Then they fanned out on both sides of the path, carefully lined up to illuminate the route ahead for you.

Why were there fireflies? You were startled, yet grateful to these lights for coming by your side, accompanying you and supporting you when you didn't want to be alone in this situation. You thanked them with a nod before taking a step forward.

You followed the guiding light. Every turn and obstacle on the route was clearly marked by their lights. Sometimes they even formed an arrow to indicate the direction. And occasionally they made you giggle by forming adorable plushies that were so similar to the ones you had piled up in your bedroom. Such a pleasant and familiar warmth had you wondering, were these guiding fireflies sent from an angel you might know?

Feeling the chilly wind and the rustle of leaves over your head, you knew you had exited the tunnel. However, the landscape ahead was still somewhat gloomy. The moonlight was unable to penetrate through the foliage, and the woodland in front of you was dense with mist. But you were no longer terrified. The fireflies that had always been at your side suddenly flew forward, guiding you through the forest.

"Hey, where are you taking me?" You couldn't help but be fascinated. "Are you taking me home, or somewhere else?"

A small cloud of fireflies gathered in front of you, creating the shape of a charming rabbit. He gave you an adoring gaze for a brief moment. His warm, luminous nose caressed your fingertips, beckoning you to follow him. The entire woodland blazed with firefly light as the rabbit galloped onward, dashing into the mist.

You hurriedly followed. The rabbit led you along the path up the mountain. The woods thinned out as you ascended higher, revealing a pure sky with the moon and stars lazily staring down. All the rays of light raced past you, converging on that very golden rabbit. Then the entire thing flew into the sky, exploding like magnificent fireworks.

Your eyes were wide open, in such amazement that you were speechless with the light show above your head. You climbed to the top of the mountain and recognized that silhouette from afar.

"Isn't it pretty?"

A familiar voice rang out. Xavier stood there, surrounded by tens of thousands of glowing fireflies. He turned slightly to look at you. He raised one hand to chest level, and the dots of light gathered into a swirl, as if he were holding the entire galaxy in the palm of his hand.

“It's you.” You shouted in joy. You had already guessed it. Who could possess such a warm, beautiful Evol light other than him? Who could find you no matter any darkness you were, but him?

The light from him gradually flowed towards you, touching your body, your hair, gently leaving a tickle on your nose, and making you laugh. You gazed at him, who was gently striding towards you. You used to think that love had all kinds of brilliant colors, but it turned out to be just a simple yet wonderfully warm golden. His golden color.

Xavier released the lights up high, allowing them to blossom into a new series of fireworks. Then you both sat down on the grass and watched.

“How did Xavier find me? I recall you have no missions today."

Xavier smiled. He did not rush to answer right away, simply gazed at you like that. Perhaps you had also guessed something. Was it not a coincidence that every time you went on a mission alone or got into a dangerous situation, he would always appear in time to help?

"Thank you." You said. Despite the fact that you had only known him for a short time, you felt at ease with him, almost dependent on him somehow.

“In the future, if you get lost, just follow the light from my little firefly friends.”

You nodded. The breeze wafted the aroma of wildflowers about. Shoulder to shoulder, you and Xavier seemed to be drawing a little closer together.

No matter how frightening the darkness I fall into, I will always find my way home, thanks to you.

#thank you for the request~ #lnds requests #fanfic #fanfiction #heart hunters series #moments with xavier #love and deepspace fanfic #love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #xavier x you #xavier x mc #xavier x reader #shen xinghui #seiya #lnds xavier #lads xavier #lnds #lads #l&ds #lnds x reader #lads x you #lads x reader #l&ds x reader #l&ds xavier #l&ds fanfic #banners and dividers made by me

[chakkll]

Gorgeous

Fred Weasley x gender neutral!reader

Synopsis: You and one of the two most popular students in school have always had a bit of a rocky relationship; the two of you constantly either pulling pranks or insulting each other (all in good fun, of course). However, little does Fred know, you’ve been crushing on him. Hard.

Inspiration: “Gorgeous” by Taylor Swift

Word Count: 1.8k

“Oh, come on!”

You groan, now completely soaked after simply exiting the bathroom because of a certain Weasley—or, as you like to call him, Weasel. Dripping wet, you have no choice other than to walk right back into the bathroom and quickly think up a solution to your immense discomfort.

You can feel water ooze out of your socks every time you take a step, and it only fills up your shoe just to be soaked back up by your socks. You hastily hurry into a stall, close it behind you and take off your socks and shoes.

Getting that out of the way, you turn around and ring out your socks into the toilet. You can hear a faint giggling from outside the stall.

“That Weasley boy got you again, didn’t he?”

A rather high pitched voice whom you’ve spoken to many times pipes up from above you. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Myrtle, not now.” You sigh as you angrily ring out your socks, and your obvious annoyance only makes the ghost giggle even more.

“Such a mean boy, constantly playing pranks on an innocent student,” Myrtle pauses, and you can hear a small squeak come from her. “Reminds me of my whole existence!” Myrtle lets out a small sob.

Not having the energy to comfort the now sobbing ghost, you just sigh once again and continue to ring out your socks until water finally stops coming out.

“Myrtle, I’d comfort you, but I’m kind of soaked and late for potions,” You softly call out, but receive no response. “Must’ve gone to a different bathroom.” You mutter and step out of the stall.

“So annoying, constantly playing ‘harmless’ pranks,” You use air quotes when saying harmless as you whip out your wand. “Doesn’t that idiot know when to stop? Snape will have my head for being late!” You grumble as you perform a quick drying charm (“exaresco!”) on yourself and, soon after, your socks and shoes. Slipping them back on, you quickly do the same to your bag that had the same unfortunate fate as you, lug it over your shoulder, and run out the bathroom.

“That Weasel, making everything so unnecessarily difficult! Can’t he just give it a rest?” You mutter as you make the long trip to the dungeons.

Mumbling incoherent plans to murder Fred, you soon make it to the classroom. “Why can’t he be like Ron? Or Ginny?” You cautiously approach the door, quieting down. Every inch of you screaming to just skip the class because of how late you are, you slowly push the door open, only to see Snape sitting at his desk, staring at you with great disapproval evident on his face.

“Ah, (L/N), nice of you to stop by.” Snape sneers, his hands folded on the table in front of him.

You force an apologetic smile onto your face, feeling the whole room’s attention on you. “I apologize for being tardy, Professor. You see, as I was exiting the lavatory, a pail of water was poured onto me.” Since you sit with the twins, so knowing the Weasel is quietly watching you give your story to Snape—most likely with a smirk—only manages to piss you off even more.

Snape’s disapproving stare doesn’t let up. He only purses his thin lips, though it’s a little hard to tell under his crooked nose. “Ten points from (your house).”

You slowly nod. “Sorry again, Professor.” He ignores you. You take this as the go-ahead to sit down. Everyone’s attention is back on their own potions as you approach the table you normally sit at. However, instead of there being two redheads, there’s only one.

Silently sitting down in your stool, you quietly take out your potions book. “No George today?” You coolly flip through your textbook as Fred looks to you.

“Nope, he’s in the Hospital Wing.”

Your brows furrow in confusion and worry. “The Hospital Wing? Why?”

“Testing one of our newer products; long story short, it didn’t end well for George.”

“Ah.” You nod as you flip to the same page Fred has his textbook opened to. After a few moments of awkward silence, you can feel Fred’s gaze on you again as you read through the ingredients for your assignment; a Laughing Potion.

“What’s got your pants in a bunch?” You can hear him smirking as you start to chop the alihotsy leaves.

Rolling your eyes, your chopping starts to become a little more aggressive. “Why, nothing, Weasel.”

“Aw, really? Nothing at all?” He continuously stares at the side of your face with a teasing smirk. “So you aren’t mad at me?”

“How could I ever be mad at the worst Weasley?” You set the chopped alihotsy leaves to the side as you start to heat your cauldron.

“Aw, that’s mean, (Y/N).” You glance up to Fred’s face, seeing him pout like a four-year-old. You resist the urge to smile at the cute expression, going back to laying out your ingredients.

When Fred realizes that you’re ignoring him, he lets out a dramatic sigh and rests his head on the table. “(Y/N),” He softly calls.

After being met with only the sound of students hysterically laughing into their cauldrons, Fred frowns. “(Y/N).”

You feel a soft tap on your right shoulder—Fred is sitting on your left—so you look up, only to see Angelina Johnson smiling bashfully at you. “Hey, (Y/N), can I ask for a little help?” And the two of you get into a fruitful discussion about how many Puffskein hairs you should put in the cauldron at a time. This only makes Fred’s frown deepen.

Soon enough, Snape orders Angelina back up to her table and for Fred to focus—you snicker quietly when he whacks Fred over the head with his book—and you go back go your potion, pouring in clear spring water.

Fred has been calling you for the past few minutes, and each time you act like he doesn’t exist.

“(Y/N), look, I’m sorry if my prank upset you,” Fred’s usual teasing tone is long gone, replaced with a soft and apologetic one. “I didn’t think it would have made you late; I’m sorry.”

Staring into your cauldron with wide, surprised eyes, you look over to Fred. He’s awkwardly smiling at you, his cheeks tinted pink. After staring at each other for a few seconds, you sigh softly.

“Damn it.” You curse quietly and look away from Fred. When he hears your reaction, his brows furrow in confusion.

“It’s fine. Just… don’t do it again.” You murmur just loud enough for Fred to hear, and he brightens instantly.

“Oh, good! I thought you were gonna say I looked stupid.” He chuckles bashfully and you silently curse again.

“No, you looked cute, dummy,” You think to yourself, feeling your cheeks warm. “And don’t chuckle like that—it’s too damn sexy.”

You quietly cover your face as you turn back to your cauldron and continue to brew your Laughing Potion.

Throughout the rest of the period, you and Fred joke around with each other—every once in a while you flirt, but you brush it off, thinking he’s just teasing—until you two have to laugh into your potions.

“And it has to be genuine hysterical laughter. You can’t force it.” You remind Fred as he just shrugs.

“I can make you laugh any day, this should be a piece of cake.” You roll your eyes at his confidence, but soon enough, the Weasley has you crying in laughter because of his idiotic pickup lines, and it soon turns into a pickup line battle.

This makes Fred start to laugh uncontrollably as well, and you two barely remember that you have to be laughing at your potions; not just near them. So, you redirect your laughter to the unfinished potions.

Even though you’ve laughed enough, you two continue with the battle.

“Hey, hey, I’m not trying to get in your pants, I just want to invest in them.” Fred cackles loudly when you manage to get it out, and his laughter makes you laugh more.

“I’m learning about important dates in history; you wanna be one of them?” Fred’s line makes you wheeze, and you two are laughing so hard it actually hurts.

Soon, Fred falls off his stool laughing. “Oh Merlin, are you okay?” You choke out, wiping tears from your eyes.

Fred’s laughter momentarily stops as he looks you dead in the eye. Your laughter dies down, expecting him to say that he’s actually hurt.

“Ugh, you see this? Now I need to visit Madame Pomfrey too, all because I fell for you.”

You two hold a dead stare, but it doesn’t last long, because soon you two are hysterically laughing again. After a few seconds, you find yourself fallen on the floor with Fred.

Snape comes over and whacks you both over the head when he realizes you aren’t working on your potions, and the two of you soon get back onto your stools. Quietly throwing jokes at each other, you both somehow manage to finish the potion just before class finished.

After you pack up and hand Snape your vial of Laughing Potion, you two exit potions together, still giggling about the class.

“That was so terrible, why did we laugh at those stupid lines so much?” You snort softly as you two make your way to the Great Hall for lunch.

“Hey, you’re still laughing.” Fred grins at you mischievously and you only playfully shove his shoulder in return.

“Hey, seriously though,” You look up, only to see Fred’s expression completely serious.

“Stop doing complete emotional 180s.” You think to yourself as you wait for the boy to continue.

“I really am sorry about the prank earlier.” Fred apologizes once again, and you can tell how genuine he’s being by just one glance at his face.

You only wave a dismissive hand. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“No, I’m really sorry.” You can feel your cheeks heating up. Why? You don’t know.

“But, I think I might know a way to make it up to you.” Fred’s genuine expression is replaced with a slightly teasing, slightly flirty one.

You tilt your head in confusion, silently urging him to continue. Fred grins.

“Let me take you out on a date, and like I said earlier, it’ll be one for the history books.”

You stare at him, your eyes widening in confusion and disbelief. “…Huh?”

“Let me take you out. The Hogsmeade trip is tomorrow, we can go to the Three Broomsticks, Zonko’s, Honeydukes. Whatever you want. Just let me take you on a date.” You can tell that Fred is nervous despite his confident front.

When you realize how serious he is, you can’t help but laugh in disbelief. “You… you’re interested in me?”

Fred nods bashfully. “Thought it was obvious, with the pranks ‘n all.”

You shake your head softly, chuckling to yourself. “…Sure. Take me out.”

Fred brightens. “You won’t regret this.”

“Yeah, I hope so.” You sarcastically reply, only making Fred laugh.

“Meet in the courtyard?”

You nod, the two of you grinning like idiots at each other.

“Great. See you tomorrow, gorgeous.”

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fic #fanfic #fanfiction #harry potter #imagine #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n

[artbyblastweave]

worm sounds fascinating, how do I get started reading it? would you recommend starting from the beginning?

(Here we go)

So, first off, the specific questions you asked indicate that I should probably clarify the following: Worm is a single self-contained novel by Canadian author John McCrae (Pen name Wildbow). The book was written and published online for free on Wordpress, at a rate of two-to-three chapters a week, over the course of two years between 2011 and 2013. It's useful to conceive of it as a book written under the same paradigm as a particularly-faithfully-attended-to webcomic, except (and very unusually for a superhero thing) it's entirely prose with no visual elements. All of this is a longwinded way of answering your second question; yes, you should absolutely read it from the beginning, and the beginning is here. The entire book is available online, for free.

(In case that you haven't been able to pull together a broad sense of what the book is about just from perusing my Tumblr, I wrote a broad pitch for the setting at large and the story of Worm specifically here. The gist is that it’s a reconstructive superhero setting where superpowers are ironically tied into the user’s moment of greatest rock-bottom trauma, which is a major explanatory factor in why there are so many unstable kooks in costumes taking out their frustrations on the world; Worm proper follows the upwards-and-downwards trajectory of one Taylor Hebert, a teenaged insect-controller and would-be superhero with the secondary superpower of being able to rationalize nearly anything she does as being in the service of some greater good.)

Worm is divided into 31 arcs; each arc is comprised of 6-to-10 chapters, told in first person from Taylor’s perspective, followed by an interlude chapter told in third-person from the perspective of a member of the supporting cast. This structure is partly a holdover from early in Worm’s development, when the book was conceived as an ensemble piece that would rotate perspectives between different cape teams; as the book picked up steam, it also became a monetization vector, as Wildbow would write additional interludes if his donors hit certain milestones. This is important to note because one failure mode I’ve seen for reading Worm is that people will assume they can safely skip something called a “donation interlude” without missing anything important. You can’t. From a thematic perspective, the interludes are a major method by which the narrative keeps the protagonist honest, as they provide a sane or at least differently-insane perspective on the situation at hand, or on whatever over-the-top bullshit Taylor has pulled recently. From a craft perspective, the interludes are some of the best and most memorable writing in the book, at least in part due to the novelty of each character’s perspective.  From a story perspective, Wildbow was very diligent about making sure that most or all of the interludes introduced information or set up future events in a way that, if worst came to worst, he could incorporate into a regular chapter if the goal wasn’t met. But he did meet those donation milestones, meaning a lot of the book isn’t gonna make sense if you don’t read the interludes. Read the interludes.

You may have caught on to that “31 arcs with 5-10 chapters an arc” factoid and done some quick napkin math. Worm is long. Very Very Long. To my knowledge, Wildbow didn’t miss an update once, and 10,000 words every three days is considered a middle-of-the-road output for him. The effect of his truly insane production rate is twofold. First, the quality of Worm’s prose increases exponentially over the course of the book, going from workmanlike to amazing as a result of the sheer volume of practice he was getting. The second effect is that it’s 1.7 million words long. There’s a piece of apocrypha about how a mail-order copy of Stephen King’s It fell through a mailslot and pulverized the recipients chihuahua. Top researchers hypothesize that a printed edition of Worm could plausibly achieve similar results with a mastiff. This is mitigated by the pageless online format that lets you consume vast quantities of text without noticing the volume of what you’ve read; kinda similar to the infinite canvas trick that make some webcomics unprintable, or the infinite scroll UI trick if it were used for good instead of evil. But the gist is that Worm is very Long, and it’s also essentially a rough draft. Your enjoyment therefore might be contingent on your willingness to extend it a mulligan based on the absurd circumstances under which it was produced.

The very first chapter of Worm has the following disclaimer; Brief note from the author:  This story isn’t intended for young or sensitive readers.  Readers who are on the lookout for trigger warnings are advised to give Worm a pass. Some people interpret this as glib or dismissive on the part of the author; I think what’s closer to true is that he was just saving time, because the alternative would be most of the first chapter just being a ten-thousand-word long list of specifics. I can’t think of a single common trigger warning that isn’t applicable to Worm. Name a fucked-up thing, and it’s in there somewhere. Special mentions going to Bug Stuff (duh), dismemberment, torture, child abuse, incest, implied (and some offscreen) sexual assault, Nazis, animal death, and horrifically fleshed-out descriptions of bullying and institutional apathy, which are heavily influenced by the author’s own experience as a disabled student in public school. Reader Beware.

And, on a related note, the book was pretty clearly trying to be progressive.... by 2011 standards, which means you’re gonna be sucking air in through your teeth at points vis a vis representational issues, if that’s a big sticking point. It would be disingenuous for me to frame this as something that meaningfully detracted from my own reading experience, but it would be equally disingenuous to act like it doesn’t bother anyone deeply, and for valid reasons. To hone in on the queer rep angle specifically, picture the discourse if Ianthe was the only canon-lesbian character with any focus in TLT and you’re getting close to the situation on that front.

Wildbow (AKA Writers Georg, who should not have been counted) continued to maintain the two-chapter-a-week production rate to this day. His other works include: 

Pact (2014-2015) and Pale (2020-present) which are Urban fantasy works set in a universe colloquially known as the Otherverse, a setting in which essentially all magic is fueled by bullshitting the universe so hard that your chosen magical tradition is incorporated into reality as Something That Is Allowed; a major downstream result of this is that the sheer weight of precedent means that no magical practitioner is allowed to explicitly lie, on pain of the universe revoking their magical ability if they’re called out on it. Pact follows the misadventures of Blake Thorburn, a jaded 20-something who gets a target painted on his back after his grandmother- a widely feared diabolist- kicks the bucket and wills him her potentially apocalyptic cache of demonic texts as part of a complicated post-mortem gambit. Pale is a murder mystery/coming of age story. Set in Kennet, a small Canadian town with a subculture of unorthodox magical creatures who’ve managed to avoid being subordinated by more powerful human practitioners, the story follows a trio of pre-teen witches who’re hurriedly brought into the magical fold and tasked with trying to solve the murder of an extremely powerful magical being whose residence in the area was a major warding factor against magicians moving in and trying to bind the locals. 

Twig (2017-2018), a biopunk alternate-history coming-of-age novel set in a universe where, instead of writing Frankenstein, Mary Shelley actually figured out how to reanimate the dead; this kicked off a necroengineering/bioengineering revolution that leads to Britain conquering much of the world by the 1920s, lording over their holdings with everything from Kaiju to designer plagues, with a Royal Family that’s been modified into undying, post-human atrocities who treat their subjects as playthings as best. The protagonists are The Lambs, a group of heavily augmented child-soldiers used by The Crown’s science division as an investigation and infiltration unit; picture here The Hardy Boys or Scooby Doo if every case they were sent out on was in service of Ingsoc.  Alternatively, think of Scott Westerfeld’s Leviathan trilogy with the same aesthetic sensibilities, but paired with the balls to portray British Imperialism as backed by genetic engineering as something apocalyptically horrifying rather than as forbidden-love fuel.

Ward (2018-2020) is the sequel to Worm, set in the parahumans universe two years after the end of the first book. Basically impossible to describe in any additional detail without massive spoilers; suffice to say that it was contentious. I liked it personally, and I maintain that it’s main error was not having the same ten years of Pre-writing that Worm got. Other works in the same universe as Worm include PHO Sundays, which were RP threads that Wildbow ran weekly on the official subreddit in which he would post a fictitious forum thread from within the setting’s cape enthusiast forums, PRT Quest, which was a semi-canon Play-by-Vote quest on the Spacebattles Forums, and Weaverdice, which is an ongoing WIP TTRPG for the parahumans universe that he works on in his spare time, and for which he’s written a lot of fleshed out faction documents and character profiles.

There’s probably some level of broad fandom analysis it’d be useful to impart here; one interesting bit of fandom lore is that, by virtue of being a superhero setting that made some effort to be internally coherent, the series received a big bump from the Rationalist community, who you may or may not have run into on here. The series was also a big hit with battle boarders, who-would-winners, and that whole corner of nerddom, since the power system is so well-defined and well-articulated; a consequence of this is that a major Worm fandom Locus is the wargaming-site spacebattles, which was hit with such an ongoing deluge of Worm Fanfiction that they have a designated Worm section on the creative writing board, something no other fandom necessitated. Both of those things have affected the shape of the fandom and the fanfiction scene in ways that I don’t feel qualified to comment extensively on this late in the evening, but it’s a fascinating little abyss to have a staring contest with. At any rate, I’d genuinely would recommend the subreddit for the OC threads, worldbuilding idea threads, and stuff of that nature, the Cauldron discord if you’re into fanfiction, and Tumblr if you’re into rambling character analysis. I would recommend none of these things before you’re actually done with the book.

That’s all I’ve got for the moment. Hope you enjoy the book. Or shun the book, if my sundry disclaimers generated a sort of warding effect. I hope you have a contextually appropriate interaction with the book.

#worm #wildbow #parahumans #worm web serial #thoughts #asks #superheroes #meta #worm thoughts

[myoddessy]

evermore. cl16

summary—you had fallen in love with charles to the sound of squeaking tricycles and high-pitched laughter. You'd loved him through every race, just as he'd loved you through every audition. Loving him had become as natural as breathing, so when he walks out the door for the last time, your left choked and alone.

what to expect—actress!reader, angst (lots of angst), based on a load of songs from taylor swift's evermore, mostly focused around charles' pov, slightly rushed/kinda open ending. for the sake of drama let's pretend that Monaco and Spa gps were in the same month in 2022.

word count—3.8k

He's a nice guy. You know it, he knows it, everyone who's ever heard of the name Charles Leclerc would know he's a nice guy. He was a gentleman. He followed the sidewalk rule, opened doors for you, practically threw his jacket at you the second you so much as shivered around him.

But more than that, more than the kindness that you could find anywhere if you looked hard enough, Charles understood you. He saw you, really saw you. He knew you as more than record breaker, more than a star, more than a lover, more than a friend. In mornings of intimacy and nights of passion, Charles had built you a home in his heart and swore you would always be safe there.

But now, as you stood in your kitchen, staring blankly at the empty chairs, you knew you could call Charles one more thing.

A liar.

You cursed yourself for feeling bitter, knowing he hadn't left your apartment that night unscathed either. You almost wished he had. Maybe if there was an actual villain in your story, it would be easier to admit that it's over.

If he wasn't such a nice guy. If he had screamed at you, demeaned you, equated your self to nothing, you could convince yourself you were better off without him. But you weren't. You know it, he knows it, anyone who met you before him knows it too.

You sigh and roll your eyes because you know as much as you try to hate him, you never will. He will never be your villain, so you'll just have to settle with him being nothing.

You'd faced heartbreak before, but those guys had all worked in your fairytale favour. Much needed antagonists, if you will. With every snide remark towards your success, they'd pushed you towards Charles' open arms. You'd learned how to cope with that pain, but this one was different. Nobody teaches you what to do when a good man hurts you, after all.

Some nights, when you woke up because of a window you forgot to close, you swear you can still feel him. Still hear the light hum of his sleeping breaths. Still smell the homely scent of his cologne. But then, when you turn to the other side of the bed, hoping all of this had just been a bad dream, your met with cold pillows and empty space, and remember that this is your life now, not what once was.

You had to break all your habits, forge new routines, because everything had been reliant on Charles. Instead of calling him as soon as you got back from set, you started running baths and catching up on episodes of shows you used to love that never suited his taste. Instead of carving days out of your limited free time to fly to who-knows-where for races, you explored the cities you were in and rekindled lost bonds with old friends.

Ever since Charles had left, on a surface level, you'd been thriving. Your friends admired it, saying you were strong and powerful for how you'd taken your heartbreak and turned it to success.

They didn't need to know about the slipping of your hand when you make enough dinner for two, or how you found yourself reverting back to the playlist of French classics he'd made for you whenever you felt particularly lonely.

It had been two months. Days ticked by and with every one that passed, you found yourself selfishly hoping that Charles Leclerc would disappear. From your memory, from your heart, from your world. Because every time you felt you were having a breakthrough, every time you made just enough breakfast, you'd leave the house and see magazine cover celebrating his success, every time you found a new song to listen to, you overhear a rumour that he took a model back to his hotel last weekend.

There was a time when you'd happily let Charles occupy your mind, but that time was long passed, and you needed it to stay that way.

No matter how well—or unwell—you handled it on your own, Charles couldn't say he fared much better. He still pulled out two wine glasses, still reached out to nothing in the dead of night, still heard the sound of your laughter ringing in his ears when the shrieks of fans should drown it out.

He swore he was going insane, but what a beautiful torment you were, and if seeing your shadow around every city street was his downfall, then hysteria was welcomed with open arms.

He wished he could say he didn't regret it. That ending things was what was best. He could say that at the time, but as days came and went, he found himself doubting. He had insisted that both of your schedules would be the death of you. With him flying around the world to race and to train, and you being flown out to anywhere and everywhere to film, and pose, and answer questions that he knew you hated, you had to fight tooth and nail to spend any time with each other.

Charles hated to admit it, but most of the sacrifice had come from you. You never complained, of course you didn't, you were nice like that. Loving, understanding. Of course you wouldn't tell him about the offers you declined and the covershoots you'd missed to visit him at a race. You never wanted him to know, but he found out anyway.

He was in the en suite, you were in the bedroom. Charles remembered that you'd gotten a call before he got in the shower, he had made note to ask why you looked so stressed when you answered. You'd kept your voice quiet, Charles only later understanding why.

So engrossed in the conversation, you hadn't noticed Charles shut the water off, nor had you heard him open the bathroom door. Your back was facing him.

"Viv, I'm sorry. You know I'm sorry, but I can't take it on right now. I'm booked to go to Spa that week, then I have to come back to Monaco, you know how important it is that I'm there." Your voice was soft, Charles couldn't tell if you were fighting tears or consoling someone. He could vaguely hear the person on the other line.

"Y/n, this is huge! I mean, come on, you've talked about wanting to work with Wes Anderson how many times? Can't you miss two races?"

"I know." Your agent was a tough woman to bargain with, but you knew she only ever wanted the best for you. "But I can't miss these, he needs the support. He deserves it."

Charles didn't hear the rest of what was said, moving into the bathroom again to look at his reflection with a wave of guilt hitting him suddenly. He splashed cold water on his face, preparing himself to face you and tell you that you needed to take the job. That, even if the luck that came with your presence pulled through, any victories would pale in comparison to how selfish he'd feel knowing what you gave up to be there.

But when he finally reopened the door, and he saw the happy smile you gave him with a small hum of good shower? the words died on his tongue. He would regret it for forever, but he didn't dare ruin the domesticity of the night with tears and arguments.

Now, three months after the split, Charles sees a tweet announcing a new film. Normally he ignored those notices, you always told him the important stuff anyway, but when he saw your picture posed proudly, he stalled. A leading role in the new Wes Anderson feature, set to start filming a month from then. He didn't feel sadness or jealousy at your ability to succeed, he smiled and carried on with his day.

The next time Charles was reminded of memories of you was a mere week after he saw the tweet, when he decided to take a run through the streets of Monaco. He passed a park on his way, slowing to a walk to admire the scenery. It wasn't anything abnormal, people walking their dogs, couples strolling with linked arms, kids screeching with joy as they ran around the playground.

But the one thing that made him stop was two children sitting on a bench near the gates. Their legs hung over the edges, swinging back and forth while they talked. The shorter one, the girl with twin plaits and a frilly pink dress had her head tilted to the sky, giggling at the clouds passing by, murmuring something about how they looked like bunnies. The taller one, the boy with a shaggy haircut and baggy clothes, however, had his eyes trained on her, nodding mindlessly while she babbled on excitedly, a noticeable blush on his face. And, suddenly, he's five years old again, playing with his toy car in the same playground with a bright-eyed girl in a pink frilly dress running up to him to tell him his hair is funny.

He remembers being offended at first, then falling into a fit of laughter to match hers. He didn't learn her name that day, nor the day after when they bumped into each other in the same way, in fact, it wasn't until a week after when he finally learned her name, and it was through pure chance.

It happened in a bakery, one he hasn't stepped foot in in three months. He'd been dragged along on errands by his mother, coaxed by the promise of pastries at the end. He waited impatiently on a highstool facing the window while she ordered, his head resting on folded arms. Then, after what felt like a century, he heard his mother come up behind him, a large bag of sweets in on hand, the other thrown around the shoulder of another woman.

"Oh my, he's grown so much!" The woman exclaimed. All Charles did was look at her funny, the only thing he wanted to do was go home and eat. The overhead bell rang as the door opened.

"Mama!" A small, high-pitched voice called. "Papa says we need to go or we'll be late to the shoot." A young girl walked up to the woman Charles didn't quite know. She wore a pink dress that Charles recognized in an instant—quite impressive for a five year old, he'd later brag. Oh, so you were always down bad, Lando would then chime in, and chaos would ensue.

She gasped happily. "Funny Hair!" She exclaimed, pointing at Charles. Their mothers exchanged confused looks. "Mama, this is the boy from the park. The one who let me play with the cars!"

Pascale saw the bashful face on her boy and smiled warmly, placing a hand on his back to help him off the chair. She nudged her head towards you, silently urging Charles to properly introduce himself. "I'm Charles." He mumbled, nervous under three pairs of eyes.

Dimples carved into your cheeks at your gap-toothed grin. "I'm Y/n." You reached forward and shook his hand, turning to your mother once more to politely remind her that you had somewhere very important to be.

With goodbyes and promises of coffee and lunch while you and your parents were still in Monaco, you left, leaving Charles with nothing more than a red face, a fast-beating heart, and a name to put to the girl who insulted his hair. You saw each other here and there after, your mothers dragging you both along when they met up until it eventually became you dragging them out the door in sheer eagerness to see each other again.

Many things changed since those fateful days in Monaco. You grew from TV ads to Hollywood leads, he grew from toy cars to formula tracks. You both stopped hating adults who kissed in your presence, and ended up being the bane of his cousins' existence. One thing that didn't change, however, was Charles forcing you to sit down and watch the, now old, Sky TV ad you were rushing off to film when he first learned your name.

Charles smiled at the sky as he carried on with his run.

Nobody could truly understand why you broke up, other than you and Charles. Beneath the adoration and pride, there was a hidden torment. A nagging feeling tugged at your heart every time you sat in Ferrari hospitality instead of curled up in a trailer, working on a project. A similar feeling washed over Charles every time he saw your shining eyes, knowing what should've been was forgotten so you could be here.

He hated what he was making you. He knew your career was your truest love and your dearest pride. He knew the blood, sweat, and tears you'd put into earing a name and a platform for yourself so you could support your family and help those who couldn't help themselves. He knew that your greatest joys would always come from performing, how you had a special smile reserved for when you saw the results of your work and dedication. He knew that, despite loving him wholly, you were changing who you were at your core to fit him.

He loved the sight of you cheering his name in a sea of red, but whenever he closed his eyes, he saw the way you looked when you turned down a job to support him, and feared that if it went on, you'd grow to resent him.

Above anything, his greatest fear was you seeing him as your downfall as opposed to your lover and, in the end, the only fate worse than being left in your past, was being someone you hated.

yourusername just posted !

Shit. Through everything, Charles had forgotten to turn off your post notifications. His thumb hovered over the screen, fighting temptation to see what you were up to. But, like he always was around you, Charles found himself helpless, clicking the banner and swallowing hard.

liked by zendaya, finnwolfhard, jennaortega, and 650,901 others

yourusername stumbled down pretend alleyways, cheap wine, make-believe it's champagne 🥂

zendaya babe you're glowing 🥺🥺

tchalamet 🔥🔥🔥

ynslover I WAS TAKEN BY RHE VIEW LIKE WE WERE IN PARUS

lecl3rcszn crying bcs y/n posts about being in Paris THE DAY AFTER I FLY BACK FROM THERE

On instinct, Charles liked the post, scrambling to unlike it with a sharp gasp moments later. He cursed himself for the slip of his thumb, praying nobody had caught it. But he knew yours and his fans well, and knew that at least one person had taken a screenshot in the time it took for him to realise his mistake. "Fuck." He groaned, tossing his phone across the bed and running his hands over his face, preparing for the media shitstorm that would come over the next few days.

You screamed into your pillow when you saw the notification. 

“Who does he think he is?” You asked the empty room. Standing up from your bed to pace around, your dog looking at you with a quirked head. “Don’t judge me.” You pointed at her. “I mean, seriously, who the fuck likes their exes post not even a minute after it was uploaded?” You chewed on the side of your thumb. “It was probably a coincidence, right? I happened to post just when he refreshed his feed. He definitely doesn’t have my notifications on, does he?” Again, you were met with silence. 

“Ugh!” You groaned out, falling onto your bed once again and covering your face with your hands. You thought you were over this shit, you thought you were over him. It had been months, you’d been on Vogue, you’d been on SNL, you’d done the interviews, and the ads, and the photoshoots, and you’d booked the role of your dreams, and with one stupid fucking like, Charles Leclerc had ruined it. 

All of your work, all of the hours you’d poured into TheWizardLiz and whatever ‘New Mindset, New Me’ creators you’d found, was now worth nothing because you were back where you were three months ago. Lying in your unmade bed with a heavy heart and a mind full of Charles. 

You wanted to cry. You’d tried so hard to put yourself and your progress in the forefront of your mind, but now all you could think about was the night he left.

He’d flown out to you in NYC, handful of roses and a pocketful of sunshine. You hoped he hadn’t come over with the intention of ending it. You didn’t know if you could handle him being that happy, all to break things off. 

It was on the last day of his week-long stay. He’d made you a fancy dinner, lit candles, set flowers. A foolish part of you thought he was going to propose, but when his hands found yours on the couch later that night, what he said was anything but romantic. 

The Dom Perignon on the table was long forgotten, the only sound between his words was the cracking of your glass heart. “It’s for the best.” You heard him say through the ringing in your ears. “We’ll grow to hate each other.” “I’ll always love you.” “Say something, please?” 

“So we’re over? Just like that?” For the first time since he’d met you, the loud, vivacious girl he’d grown to love was nowhere to be seen. Your voice was hushed and small, your shoulders were hunched. You were making yourself small and it was his fault, the fact made him sick. 

“I’m sorry.” His voice was gentle, their was a crack in his words and tears in my eyes. You sniffled and wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. 

“I- um- I think you should go.” Your voice was thick with tears shed and more welling up. Charles sighed and nodded in understanding. “I’m out tomorrow for lunch with Timothee and Saoirse at 1 so you can get your stuff then, if you want.” You mumbled out, barely audible as he stood by the door. 

He halted halfway through the threshold, and the young girl in you with a pink dress and pigtails hoped he was going to turn back and kiss you and say it was all a dream. But he didn’t. He did something much worse. 

“I really do love you, you know that, right?” A beat of silence. “And I really am sorry.” 

That was when you knew you couldn’t hate him. Because you did know it, you knew he loved you. You knew this wasn’t what he wanted, but it was what you both needed. You could hear him crying on the other side of the door, him resting against it for a minute or two before finally leaving. 

He repeated a mantra in his head as he went down the elevator, It's for the best. Sometimes giving up is the right thing, he told himself as his footsteps echoed through the parking lot. Sometimes to run is the strong thing.

As he turned on the car and drove far away from his true home, he prayed that was true.

It had been 9 months since the break-up. Your feet ached from the heels you’d been wearing all night, and the comfort of your apartment had never been more appreciated. You really did it. The premiere was everything you could have wanted. The afterparty had stretched into the AM, and praise had been thrown at you for hours, much like the drinks. 

But as early morning moonlight still lingered through the windows, you didn’t want the champagne, or the glitz and glamour, all you wanted was a nice, home-cooked meal. You sat up from the couch, stretching like a cat, designer gown still hugging your figure as you shuffled to the kitchen, rummaging through your cupboards to grab some pasta. You pressed shuffle on a playlist of your current favourite songs.

New York had never really been strange to Charles, whenever he visited, he always had an A-class tour guide in you. But as he wandered through the streets in their 4am glory, alone after Pierre abandoned him for some reason he couldn’t quite remember, he knew he couldn’t feel like more of a tourist if he tried. His eyes were hazy with sleep and a mild buzz from the club he’d just left, but his mind cleared when he looked up to the gleaming billboards and saw your face. 

He smiled, continued walking, and thought about the times you’d practically pulled his arm off to show him around whenever he visited. He didn’t really know where he was going, but with the certainty in his heart, he knew his hotel must be somewhere near. 

“Shit!” You cursed, your hand slipping for the first time in months. Enough pasta for two. At least I’ll have some left over for tomorrow. You thought with a huff. You swayed along to the music gently, humming the lyrics to invisible string with a content smile. 

25C. That seemed right. Charles felt around his pockets for his keycard, grumbling indistinct complaints when he remembered he left it in the hotel room with the intent of using Pierre’s after the club. He raised his hand to knock, hoping his friend wasn’t too tired, or too occupied elsewhere. 

A knock made you jump in your skin. “Who the fuck makes house calls at 4:30?” You asked yourself. You wiped your hands down with a cloth and walked to the door, too hungry to bother checking the peephole.

"Oh."

"Oh." Your jaw slacked and your hands grew clammy. You hid them behind the lavish ruffles of your dress.

Charles was knocked back to sobriety, wide awake, and heart thumping out of his chest.

"What are you doing here?"

"Would you believe me if I said I was just in the area?"

You huffed out a laugh, Charles joined, and it soon transcended to a small fit of giggles.

"I think I'm a bit lost." He admitted sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

"You think?" You teased, and a small part of you was screaming at you to stop joking and slam the door, but the rest was elated in the comfort of the ease in which you talked.

He wasn't a stranger to you. He never would be.

You wondered if you'd regret what you were about to do when morning came.

"It's late, if you need a place to stay, I still have that extra room." You but the inside of your cheeks when his eyes widened. "And I accidentally made enough food for two people, so the choice is yours. We can catch up."

Charles looked to the apartment behind you, then back you, then back to the apartment, a silent game of tennis to see if you were really serious.

When you smiled at him and stepped aside, showing him the opportunity was his, all he had to do was grab it, he nearly jumped for joy. But instead of screaming and kissing you then and there, he just smiled with his usual boyish charm.

"I'd like that."

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc angst #f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 smut #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one smut #celebrity!reader #famous!reader #actress!reader #formula one x you

[ilguna]

☼ the other woman pt2 (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; a lot has changed these past six months, including the way you feel about Finnick.

warnings; swearing, it's cringy at the end lol

wc; 1.1k

notes; annie slander.

extra notes; kinda songfic, Should've Said No by Taylor Swift.

part one.

–

The filming process for the movie went on to last six months, and during that period of time, you were tortured for almost every second of it. In the beginning, it was difficult. Once the media heard about the break up and the cause behind it, that’s all they wanted to talk about for the longest time.

It was big news when you two started dating in the first place, because Finnick loved you, someone who didn’t fully understand the world he was living in. And now, it was making news again. After he said he liked being with you because you were on the outside, he had done a full one-eighty and claimed that it was easier for him to be with someone who was also famous.

With his relationship with Annie being out in the open, they could finally post pictures and be seen together. They no longer had to hide their identities, something they could’ve been doing for months until you finally caught on. You thought they would ease into it, but they didn’t care. 

They were all you were seeing for weeks.

You tried to hide, to go back to the life you were living before you’d started dating him. Except, the tabloids wouldn’t let you go. They wanted to hear your side of the story, what it was like during your time together. They wanted the messy details, the worse the better, so they could use you as a reason to smear his name and get more attention for it.

You couldn’t do it, you didn’t have the heart in you to. You could say a hundred nasty things about him, but half of them wouldn’t be true. In honesty, Finnick was one of the best boyfriends you’ve ever had. Up until it was revealed that he’d been cheating on you, of course.

You would’ve been in the right, you just didn’t want to start a fight. You let him go, and you were set on moving on from him.

Well, you tried to at least. Finnick had made a great impact on your life, whether you liked it or not. You made a lot of friends in his industry, most of them still talking to you. One of them is actually his best friend, Johanna Mason, a rock singer.

Johanna wasn’t your favorite friend of his by any means at the start, but as soon as you started talking to her more and got a hang of her personality, you hit it off. You opened up and began to talk to her the same way she joked with you. The two of you became attached at the hip overnight.

That’s why, when you wrote a song, the first person you went to was her. You felt silly, mostly because you’ve never written a song in your left. And you didn’t know what to do beyond that point. So, you pitched it to her, sang it to her, gave her the ideas of what you wanted in the background.

You told her that if she wanted it, she could have it. She then turned it back around on you, telling you that it wasn’t her genre, but she could definitely see you singing it. You tried to tell her that there was no way you were going to become anything more than a ghost writer, but she made you give it a try anyway. 

She wouldn’t let you invest a penny into the project. She funded the entire production, she helped you tweak the lyrics, she was there when you recorded the song. The only thing she couldn’t do is help you get a record company to pick it up. So, you uploaded it independently, thinking nothing would come of it.

However, with her promoting it on every social media site that she could, the streams started rolling in. The half of Finnick’s fan base that liked you, were the ones that streamed it the most. You were practically an overnight sensation.

It would only be a few weeks later, at the end of the six-month mark, when the announcement was made. To no one’s surprise, Annie Cresta—the actress known for serial dating her co stars—dumped your ex-boyfriend, Finnick Odair. It was less than twelve hours later, when all the pictures of the two of them were deleted off of her social media.

It was the best day of your life.

Or that was until Finnick texted you a couple days ago, and it’s pretty obvious what he wants. He asked you to stay the night you confronted him, and he didn’t stop texting you until Johanna told him to leave you alone, two weeks later. He was making you upset.

It was weird, having his name pop up on your phone again. You couldn’t breathe for a second, but as soon as you read the message, the feeling was gone. Of course he’d come back to you once it was over. You told him this is what would happen, and now that he’s alone, he can’t live with it.

Well, you’re tired of being nice.

You sit down in front of the camera, adjusting the guitar in your lap, plucking at the strings. You tune the guitar, looking up at your phone every now and then. The first song you wrote was about your feelings immediately after the break up. And now that phase of heartbreak is gone, you’re got more ideas.

“Hey, guys.” You murmur, “I know it’s been a minute. I promised that I’d try to keep up, but I’m still new to this.” You strum the guitar, “I have been working on some new ideas, but this is an old one that I recently picked up again.”

You begin to strum faster, “I’m going to sing you a part of it, and I promise, the rest of it is being worked on.” You stop for a second, long enough for them to hear you clearly. “This one is Should’ve Said No.

“It’s strange to think the songs we used to sing. The smiles, the flowers, everything is gone.” You sing. “Yesterday I found out about you. Even now just looking at you, feels wrong.”

You take a breath. “You say that you’d take it all back, given one chance. It was a moment of weakness and you said yes.” You shake your head. “You should’ve said no, you should’ve gone home. You should’ve thought twice ‘fore you let it all go.

“You should’ve known that word, ‘bout what you did with her’d get back to me.” You tilt your head to the side, glancing at the camera. “And I should’ve been there, in the back of your mind. I shouldn’t be asking myself why.”

You grin a little. “You shouldn’t be begging for forgiveness at my feet.” You can’t help the laugh that leaves you. “You should’ve said no, baby and you might still have me.”

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x yn #finnick odair x y/n #finnick imagine #finnick fanfic #finnick x reader #finnick oneshot #finnick x you #finnick x yn #finnick x y/n #thg #the hunger games #angst #requested

[exileisover]

I think TS11 really might be the last new (not re-recorded) album we get from Taylor… or at least, this version of Taylor (straight, heterosexual Taylor).

Why?

1) @spade-riddles #🎃 riddle about the completing the story in 11 parts (TS11).

2) “My veins of pitch black ink” seems to be a reference to a line from Elliott Smith’s song “A Fond Farewell” — I think Taylor is saying goodbye to this untrue version of herself with this final album, The Tortured Poets Department.

-Of note, BoyGenius paid tribute to Elliott Smith both in their lyrics of “We’re In Love” and in their coordinated outfits at the Grammy’s last night with the white suits and pink carnations in the lapels.

“A Fond Farewell” by Elliott Smith

The litebrite's now black and white

Cause you took apart a picture that wasn't right

Pitch burning on a shining sheet

The only maker that you'd want to meet

The dying man in a living room

Who's shadow paces the floor

Who'll take you out in the open door

This is not my life

It's just a fond farewell to a friend

It's not what I'm like

It's just a fond farewell to a friend

Who couldn't get things right

Fond farewell to a friend

He said really I just want to dance

Good and evil matched perfect it's a great romance

I can deal with some physic pain

If it'll slow down my higher brain

Veins full of disappearing ink

Vomiting in the kitchen sink

Disconnecting from the missing link

This is not my life

It's just a fond farewell to a friend

It's not what I'm like

It's just a fond farewell to a friend

Who couldn't get things right

Fond farewell to a friend

I see you're leaving me and taking up with the enemy

The cold comfort of the in between

A little less than a human being

A little less than a happy high

A little less than a suicide

The only things that you really tried

This is not my life

It's just a fond farewell to a friend

It's not what I'm like

It's just a fond farewell to a friend

Who couldn't get things right

Fond farewell to a friend

This is not my life

It's just a fond farewell to a friend

#gaylor swift #the tortured poets department

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

hiya, can you write something fluffy with Roy Kent where he’s dating an author and he wakes up to her not being in bed beside him, he gets up and sees her still working at her desk in her office, so he does something like hugs her from behind but he gets a glimpse of the book she working on and it’s based of there love story (someone falling in love with a grumpy but secretly loveable footballer) ❤️❤️

Happily Ever After

Roy Kent x Reader

0.7k words

Warnings: Language

Ahh I loved this!!! Bonus points if anyone can peep the Taylor Swift reference I threw in there!

~

Roy turned over and stretched out his arm. Eyes still closed, he frowned when he grabbed a handful of sheets. He took a peek at the clock on his nightstand; it was one in the morning. You should be in bed; you’d said you’d be finished after one more paragraph.

With a hmmph, Roy hauled himself out of bed and shuffled down the hallway. Sure enough, he saw the light on in your office and heard the clickclickclick of your keyboard. Stifling a yawn, he leaned in the doorway and watched you.

There you were, wearing shorts and one of his old Chelsea jerseys, your hair tied up sloppily. He loved it when you got like this, all focused and typing away. Even with your back to him, he knew your nose was scrunched in concentration and you were chewing on your bottom lip. He stifled a chuckle when you tilted your head to the side- an adorable habit you vehemently denied doing every time he pointed it out.

Doing his best to keep quiet, Roy strolled across the room, relishing the small squeak that came out of your mouth when he wrapped his arms around you.

“How’s it going, Shakespeare?” he hummed, planting a kiss on your cheek.

You laughed and leaned your head against his. “Good. I’m on a roll, actually.”

Roy smiled. “I noticed. It’s past one.”

“No way.” Your eyes widened as you looked at the clock on your computer. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

He quickly shook his head. “Not at all. Just, I don’t fucking know, missed you.” He glanced at the computer screen. “What’re you working on anyway?”

Your hands covered his eyes as you laughed. “Oh no! You can’t see!”

With a growl, Roy pulled your hands down. “Come on. Let’s have a look.”

Face burning, you knew there was no point in arguing. It wasn’t like you could ever say no to Roy when he looked at you with those sleepy eyes. He’d given you those same eyes the night he rolled over in bed and asked you to move in with him. Or when you woke up to him gazing at you, just before he told you he loved you for the first time.

Now those sleepy eyes trailed down the computer screen, taking in the words you’d been working on all night. You chewed your lower lip, a bad habit that had you buying ChapStick far too often, as you watched for his reaction. The reason you’d been up so late was because you had finally gotten to your favorite part of any story: boy gets girl back. You were a sucker for declarations of love, runs through the airport, kisses in the rain, all that cheesy stuff that made Roy roll his eyes playfully.

But he didn’t roll his eyes this time. Instead, he smiled as his cheeks reddened. His breathing slowed and he let out a little hum as he read before finally turning back to you.

“Is this about us?”

His face shone with amusement as he waited for the answer. As if he needed you to confirm it. Your book, which you’d avoided talking too much about, even with Roy, was about a writer and a grumpy footballer. The scene he’d just read concluded in a heated kiss on a football pitch.

“Yeah,” you murmured, ducking your head. “I mean, it’s inspired by you, I guess.”

A breathy chuckle escaped Roy’s lips as he squeezed you tight. “Fuck. I love it.” He kissed your temple. “You’re so fucking talented. What a mind.”

You shook your head, embarrassed by the praise. “Roy-”

“No,” he insisted, tilted your face towards his. “You are fucking amazing. You see a blank page on your computer, and you create an entire world. You make people feel things with your words. Fuck, no wonder your publisher’s been hounding you for this thing. It’s going to sell even more than your last one.”

The sincerity in Roy’s face eased the tension in your shoulders. Sometimes, you felt silly with the things you wrote, all romance novels and fluff. You wondered if Roy actually liked reading it, or if he just did it because he was your boyfriend and it was his job to be supportive. But seeing the pride on his face as he spoke, you knew. This wasn’t boyfriend duty. He really meant it.

He picked up the laptop and shrugged towards the door. “Come on. You can read me some more of this in bed. I want to know what happens after the happily ever after.”

You smiled as he led you down the hall, back to your room. What happens after happily ever after? You were living it.

#request ❤️ #he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent fic #roy kent fluff #roy kent fanfic #roy kent x reader #ted lasso #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fluff

[beskarandblasters]

You Belong With Me

Best Friend!Cassian Andor x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Cassian Andor Masterlist

Author’s note: Love me a Taylor Swift title. The reader basically takes the place of Bix in this. Your boyfriend is Timm just like her but you’re just best friends with Cassian up until this point. Takes place sometime before episode one.

Summary: You grew up on Ferrix and have been best friends with Cassian Andor since childhood. You run a salvage yard on Ferrix and work as a mechanic with your boyfriend, Timm. One day you catch Timm betraying you and Cassian proves to be the perfect shoulder to cry on.

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, your boyfriend is an asshole, infidelity, confessing feelings, best friends to lovers, pet names (angel, baby, sweetheart), praising, fingering, oral sex (F receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, no use of y/n

Follow @beskarandblastersfics and turn on post notifications to be notified when I post a new fic!

It’s a typical day for you on Ferrix. Your boyfriend, Timm, is working the front counter and you’re in the shop deconstructing a speeder for parts. It’s been a constant flow of people today making him busy at the counter and you left to your own devices. 

Between the on and off blaring noises of the machines you’re operating you hear voices coming from the front, usually several at a time as they talk over each other, inquiring about prices. Eventually you hear only two voices talking, one you already know; Timm’s. But the other one is high pitched, shrill– a woman’s voice, one you don’t recognize. And she’s laughing. And the laughing doesn’t stop. Come on, he’s not that funny, you think to yourself. 

You slide out from under the speeder and take off your mask, determined to see what’s going on already. You hoist yourself off the ground and make a beeline for the front counter to find an interesting site to say the least. Timm is standing at the counter, resting his elbow on the countertop and supporting his head in his hand. Her body language matches his and their faces only inches apart from each other. The both of them completely enthralled in the conversation. 

“Am I interrupting something?” you ask, eyes scanning back and forth between them.

Timm’s face goes red at the sight of you, jumping back a couple feet in his shock. The woman stands up straight, returning her arms to her sides and averting her gaze to the floor. 

“Nope! She was just asking about a part for her droid,” Timm quickly says. 

“Gotcha… What part were you looking for?” you ask.

“Um, it’s actually not that important,” she says, still not looking at you. 

“Are you sure? I can take-”

“I said it’s not that important. Bye,” she finishes, turning swiftly on her heel and leaving. 

You’re completely baffled. She comes to your salvage yard to ask for a part but then gets rude with you when you ask for more details?? Not to mention her questionable behavior with Timm. 

“Who was that?” you say, stepping towards him. 

“Just a customer.”

“Seems like you know her.”

“She lives in my neighborhood.”

“Oh really? I’ve never seen her in your neighborhood when I’m around.”

“Babe, why are you getting like this? She’s just a customer. End of story,” he says, shutting down any further conversation on the topic. 

You roll your eyes and head back into the shop to finish scrapping the speeder. But the whole time your mind is preoccupied, worried about Timm and that woman. You’re not suspicious that he spoke to someone of the opposite sex, that’s not it at all. It’s the way they both acted once you caught them and how Timm tried to gaslight you after. 

You finish the work day and part ways without so much as a kiss goodbye; a deliberate choice by you. Now that you’re not working and you’re alone with your thoughts you face the harsh reality that he’s most likely cheating on you. 

You head to the cantina that night to meet up with your best friend, Cassian. You’ve been best friends ever since he was adopted and came to a Ferrix at a young age. Best friends is an understatement; you two have been inseparable. You’ve been there for each other’s milestones, heartbreaks and everything in between. You thought maybe something would happen between you two but it never did. Neither of you were single at the same time and you always respected the other’s relationship. You meet him at the bar and he greets you with a smile and your first round of drinks. 

“Thanks, Cass,” you say, sitting beside him as he slides your drink over to you. 

After just the two words you spoke and presumably the troubled look on your face, he knows something’s wrong. 

“What happened?” he asks, his face shifting into a worried expression. 

“It’s really nothing,” you say, looking down at your hands resting on the bar, “I’m probably overreacting.”

“Tell me.”

“I just… Timm was acting really strange with this girl at the salvage yard today. Like when I walked in on them talking they both looked incredibly guilty. And when I confronted him about it he brushed me off.”

“Do you think he’s cheating on you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have the full picture yet.”

“I’ll kill him if he is.”

“Ha, you’re funny.”

“I’m being serious!”

“I don’t even know for sure yet, Cass.”

“Well, I’m here for you.”

“I know, Cass. I’m lucky to call you a friend,” you say, just as he reaches for your hand, giving it a squeeze.

“You’ll always have me,” he says before taking a sip of your drink.

Your feelings of anxiety are temporarily quelled, but not for long. You finish your drink, only in the mood for one round before saying goodbye to Cassian and heading home. 

“Keep me updated,” he says, giving you a hug goodbye.

“I will,” you say, offering him a weak smile before leaving the cantina.

As you walk home a plan forms in your mind; to go over to his place, check on him and see if she’s there. But not tonight, it’ll be too obvious. You have to be patient and wait a few days, make Timm believe you’re not suspicious of his actions in the slightest if you’re going to catch him in the act.

-

Three days have passed since the strange interaction at the salvage yard. You’ve been doing your best to mask your emotions and pretend like everything’s fine. It’s hard to pretend you’re okay when you have a hunch like this; to kiss him and interact with him like nothing is going on. You’re hoping that you’re wrong; that you’ll go over to his house and everything will be normal; that’ll be honest for once. But only time will tell. 

Finally the work day comes to an end and you give him a kiss goodbye despite how badly you don’t want to and watch him walk home. You hang around at the yard, killing time before it’s time to go. When enough time has passed you leave the salvage yard and walk to his place. The anticipation brews in your stomach for what you’re about to find but so does the dread. Because deep down you think you’re going to find everything you don’t want to see; everything you don’t want to be true. You arrive at his door and give it a knock. Timm answers the door after a moment, hair tousled and glistening with sweat. He looks surprised and almost annoyed to see you.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, without a hello first.

“I just wanted to check on you. That’s all.”

“Okay, well I’m fine. Is there anything else you need?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re okay? What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” he says too quickly.

“Is something wrong? Let me come inside,” you say, pushing past him.

Despite his protests you go inside and head straight for the bedroom. 

You open the door to his room and your worst fears are confirmed. That girl from his salvage yard is in his bed; naked and with a horrified expression on her face. Your ears start ringing and everything sounds like it’s far away. Timm’s shouting your name followed by an incoherent mess of “I’m sorry” and “It isn’t what it looks like” but you’re ignoring him, turning on your heel and bolting as fast as you can. You leave his place and step out onto the street, unsure of where to even go right now. Your house? The salvage yard? The cantina? …Cassian’s place? You don’t know where but you need to get far away from Timm’s place now.

And so you run, not caring who you’re bumping into or caring about the scene you’re causing. You’re stopped in your tracks when you collide into someone full force. You get ready to mumble a lame apology and take off but you bumped into Cass of all people.

“What happened?” he asks, concern on his face and grabbing your shoulders.

You don’t know where to begin. You open your mouth to speak but instead tears start spilling down your face. He pulls you into him, holding you as if you’re going to slip away. He rubs your back as you cry against him, not prying any further as you let your feelings out. 

“It’s true, Cass. He’s cheating on me,” you whisper against his shoulder. 

He pulls back and places his hands on your shoulders again, his anger firing him up. 

“Where is he?! I meant it when I said I’ll kill him!”

“I know, Cass. I know. I just… I want to go home.”

“You’re right,” he says softly, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, “Let’s get you home.”

He keeps a protective arm around you as he walks you home, swiftly weaving through small crowds of people in an effort to get you home faster. All of a sudden it starts to rain and the streets of Ferrix clear up. But by the time you get home both of you are pretty soaked. 

You get inside and make your way to your bedroom, sitting on the edge of your bed and staring off into space out of pure numbness. Cassian kneels on the floor in front of you, trying to get your attention but you’re too zoned out.

“Hey, talk to me,” he says, grabbing your hand and giving it a squeeze.

You shake your head as if to break yourself out of your trance and look him in the eye.

“I went over to his place and caught another girl in his bed.”

“Was it the same girl as before?”

“Yup,” you sigh. 

“I’m so sorry. You deserve so much better,” he says with the most sincere expression on his face. 

“Do I, though? There has to be something wrong with me that made him go and cheat.”

“Hey,” he says sternly, “He’s the one who screwed up. You did nothing wrong. He was lucky to have you.”

“You mean that?”

“Anyone would be lucky to have you. I’d be lucky to have you,” his eyes widening after he realizes what he said. 

“What do you… What do you mean by that, Cass?”

He gets up and sits before you on the bed, still keeping your hand in his. He looks nervous and he takes a deep breath as if he’s about to say something difficult. 

“I mean that… I’ve had feelings for you ever since we were kids… but I didn’t want to run our friendship. And I know this is the worst time to tell you that and I’m sorry. But it just came out and I-”

You cut him off by kissing him, feeling his wet skin from the rain and his facial hair rub against your face. He’s stiff as a board, almost as if he’s in shock. It isn’t until you pull away and look at him does his posture start to relax.

“Why did you do that?” he asks softly.

“Because I think I just realized that everything I need is right in front of me. And I’ve been denying myself of it for too long.”

“Do you mean that?”

“I do,” you say, squeezing his hand. 

With the confirmation he needed his lips crash into yours. His hands caress each side of your face as you move closer to him. The kiss grows more passionate and you find yourself inching up farther on the bed but careful not to break the kiss. He follows you, coaxing you to lay down. You lay back on the bed and let him hover over you, the kiss growing deeper and needier, like you can’t get enough of each other. He pulls away for a second and you look at each other for a moment. That’s when it hits you; you’re about to have sex with your best friend. The adrenaline from the moment courses through your veins as he tugs on the waistband of your pants. He looks back at you as if he’s asking if this is okay and you nod, the easiest yes of your life. With your approval he slides off your pants, followed by your underwear. He runs a hand over your inner thigh and you shiver at his touch, still not fully rationalizing what’s happening right now but also knowing it’s what you’ve needed. You spread your legs for him and he shifts to settle in between them, gazing down at your entrance. He brings two fingers to your cunt, swiping lightly at your entrance and collecting what wetness has already formed there. 

“How bad do you want me?” he asks, rubbing his thumb against his pointer and middle finger, feeling the physical evidence of how bad you want but asking anyway to hear it for himself.

“So bad, Cass,” you whine, aching for his fingers already. 

He brings his face by yours, a devious smirk on his face and asks, “For how long?”

“Shit, I don’t even know. Too long,” you whine, getting desperate.

“That’s not good enough. How long?” he repeats.

“Since you started dating that girl a few years ago, I was jealous.”

“Jealous?” he questions, brushing his fingers against your cunt again.

“Yes. Yes, I was jealous, Cass,” you whine at his ghost of a touch.

“Imagine how I felt, watching you waste your time with that asshole Timm when you could’ve had me…” he says, bringing his fingers to his mouth and moistening them before bringing them back to your cunt, “Taking such good care of you,” he finishes, sliding a finger inside you.

You gasp at his touch and his eyes scan your features for signs of how aroused you are; the way your mouth falls open, the rise and fall of your chest, your hands gripping sheets beside you as he works your walls. 

“You want more?” he teases.

“Please, Cass.”

“Good girl,” he praises, pushing another finger in. 

You arch your back in pleasure as he hits that perfect spot inside you. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing small circles around it while his other fingers make a “come here” motion. Your cunt flutters around his fingers as you cum, soaking his hand with your release. He pulls his hand from you when you’re finished, looking down at the mess you made on his hand and deciding he needs to taste it. He lays down between your thighs and licks a long, slow stripe up your entrance, just to see how you taste. You shudder at the feeling of his warm tongue against you, licking you slowly. He wants more, lapping at the rest your release until he moves to your clit. He swirls his tongue around it before sucking on it completely, feeling you writhe against his face. Your hand moves to his hair, tugging on it lightly as he eats you. He loves the feeling he gets from pleasuring you and the physical reactions you show from it, almost growling even when you pull his hair. He sucks your clit until you cum again, this time your release soaking his face instead of his hand and he loves every second of it, taking in your scent and your taste as you ride out your high. He pulls away when you’re done and you waste no time sitting up and taking your shirt off. He does the same, tossing his clothes into a pile on the floor and returning to in between your legs. You glance down between your legs at his exposed cock and can’t believe you’re finally seeing it after all these years of imagining what it looks like; uncut, girthy, and so big it’s a little intimidating. He looks down at your naked form, trailing his hand along your waist and to your lips. 

“I wanted this for so long,” he murmurs, “You underneath me, looking like an angel.”

Your cheeks go hot at his praise and all of a sudden you’re feeling shy, turning your head to the side. He gathers some of your wetness on his hand and spreads it onto his cock, giving it a few strokes before aligning himself with your entrance. But before he enters you, he grabs your chin and turns your head towards him, forcing you to look at him.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he says softly.

You nod just as he enters you, shifting your nod into a gasp at the feeling of him stretching your walls. He lowers himself down by your face, supporting himself on his hands on either side of your head as he draws back his hips and slams them into you, showering you with promises.  

“I’m gonna treat you so well, baby. I’m gonna take such a good care of you,” he says, words coming out deliriously as he plows into you. 

All you can do is keep nodding at his promises, tears springing in the corners of your eyes as he drives his cock deeper and deeper into you.

“I’m gonna worship you, baby. You don’t know how much of an angel you are,” he says, slamming his hips into you on the last word to draw a deep moan from you. 

He bends down to kiss you as he picks up the pace, the head of his cock brushes your cervix now. You moan into his mouth before he moves to your neck, pressing sloppy, wet kisses on the soft skin as you grow hysterical, tears fully spilling down your cheeks now. Just earlier in the night you were crying over your shitty boyfriend cheating on you and now you’re crying from your best friend’s cock plowing into you. 

“Cass. Cass, I’m gonna cum!” you cry out. 

“Do it. Let me feel it, angel,” he whispers by your ear, his breath tickling the shell of your ear.

With one last slam of his hips into you, you’re coming undone around him. Your core contracts and releases erratically and he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, making it last even longer. 

“That’s it, baby. Cum on my cock,” he says, moving to kiss your neck. 

Your cunt keeps convulsing his cock like a vice, drawing his own orgasm from him. With the tip of his cock nestled against your cervix he’s cums inside you, painting your insides with his release. He stays just like that for a moment, head by your neck, kissing you softly and his cock still buried inside you. Once he goes soft he pulls out and lays down next to you, pulling you into him. You lay on his chest the both of you rest just like that for a moment while he rubs your back. 

“I’m just so glad I have you finally,” he murmurs.

“Me, too, Cass,” you hum happily.

All of a sudden you hear frantic knocking on the door. You poke your head up and hear Timm calling your name.

“Took him long enough,” you scoff.

“You wanna get that?” he asks.

“Nah. He’ll leave eventually,” you sigh, resting back on his chest.

“Good. Now rest, sweetheart. We’ll go again in the morning.”

You giggle in response but you know he’s right. Gotta make up for all the years you spent apart somehow. 

End note: ✨it’s finally fucking here after like two months of me talking about it✨ 😭💀

Cassian tag list: @wannab-urs @readingfan @thesoftdumbass @twirl731 @hellomoonlightluna @septimaseverina @forlornghosts @vibrantbirdy @pedritosdarling @simpforbritgents @radcollectivesoul @gingaaaaa @dinsdjrn

#cassian andor x reader #cassian andor fanfiction #cassian andor smut #cassian andor x f!reader #cassian andor #andor #andor fanfiction #starwarsficnetwork #star wars #star wars fanfiction #cassian andor x you

[loverhymeswith]

I am thinking of a fic with Tommy to “the lakes” by Taylor Swift. Maybe the reader is trying to escape the criminal lifestyle, and essentially is begging Tommy to come away with her to live in the country away from all the danger… But he just can’t seem to let go. There’s a sort of comfort in the chaos for him. Lots of angst I think.

Calamitous Love

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x F!Reader

Summary: Enough is enough. You present Tommy with an ultimatum.

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: Pure angst, swearing

A/N: Thank you for the request, Anon. This was heavily inspired by season six. Thank you @a-reader-and-a-writer for the beta ❤️

In the early hours of the morning, you watch him leave.

Dense fog shrouds the grounds of the Arrow House estate, but amidst the dull, muted grey, the pitch black stallion is a dark silhouette, harsh hooves crunching over the gravel as it gallops along the length of the driveway and beyond, towards the rolling Warwickshire hills.

With a heavy heart, you relinquish your vigil at the window, the linen curtains falling back into place as you sweep across the bedroom, concern quickening your pace.

Like the consumption currently ravaging the nation, sleep’s reluctance to claim your husband is contagious, his torment and madness spreading through the cursed house and infecting all those in its path.

You’d fought again, this evening. The same old story. How much more was he prepared to lose before enough was enough? Couldn’t he just rest?

But these days, getting a sensible response out of Thomas Shelby is akin to drawing blood from stone. 

You dress in darkness. Riding boots and a woollen coat to protect you from the autumn chill. Silent footsteps along the hallway and whispered words through Frances’ door; a harried plea for her to watch over the children. It pains you to leave them, but - one way or another - this will be the last time.

It’s quiet outside as dawn prepares to break over the crest of the hills; a stillness in the air, charged and expectant, even beyond the blanket of fog. The stable boys won’t report for duty for another hour, but you can saddle your own horse or better still, ride bareback. Years of banquets and ballrooms haven’t yet turned you soft. 

You take the white mare; the gentle creature is your favourite. Beneath her calm exterior, there’s a wildness threatening to escape. Her pace might be no match for Thomas’ horse, but she’s a kindred spirit, requiring no instruction as she breaks into a gallop and follows in the black stallion’s wake. 

The wind whips your face as you ride across the foothills and dales, mist and drizzle plastering strands of damp hair to your brow. Tears stream down your burning cheeks as you clutch the reins tightly. When was the last time you felt so alive? So free?

It was long before politics. Before the Italians and the Irish. Before bookmaking and Billy Kimber. Before the war.

Before death had set up camp outside your front door.

The sun has risen by the time you reach him, rays of watery light escaping through the silver haze. Perched atop the rocky outcropping, your husband is a lone figure, surveying his kingdom from the mountain peak. You know why he came here: isolation; solitude; remorse.

As soon as you dismount, your mare trots off in search of the stallion. She has no desire to bear witness to this conversation. Sensible girl. 

White smoke curls around Tommy’s head as you approach, his grey cap is discarded on the rock face along with a handful of spent cigarettes. The subtle shift of his shoulders is the only indication he is aware of your presence.

The words, well-rehearsed despite your fervent reluctance to speak them over the last ten years, catch in your throat, but you can put this off no longer. It’s now or never.

“I’m leaving, Thomas.” Your voice breaks, just as you knew it would, each bitter syllable burning your tongue.

Any sense of relief you hoped to feel is unforthcoming; the ever-present tightness in your chest remains. You’re not sure what you expected… something rather than nothing. Tangible evidence of the weight of your words. But perhaps, like the consequences of a vengeful curse, patience is in order.

Tommy stubs out his cigarette but makes no move to turn around. Maybe you should have been brave enough to face him while you spoke, but it’s easier this way. Those blue eyes get you every damn time.

“You came all the way out here just to tell me that, eh?” 

His tone is entirely devoid of emotion, just as it has been for the last seven months. Even when you fight, he doesn’t get angry anymore. Once upon a time he would trade you, blow for blow. Now, he simply walks away.

“You can’t shut the door on me out here.”

Slowly, as if it’s causing him great pain to do so, Tommy looks over his shoulder. His cold stare is as lifeless as his words. “What do you want me to say? Sounds like your mind's made up.”

You didn’t come here for an argument. The fight finally left you last night when he didn’t follow you to bed. Instead of arming yourself with more words, as ineffectual as the weapons that have tried to kill him over the years, you slip out of your boots and pad barefoot across the wet grass. 

Kneeling on the ground before him, you take his face between your hands, his skin as chilled as your own. You force yourself to look at him. To really see him. Glacial eyes, rung by dark shadows, have lost their sparkle; his cheeks are sharper, his chapped lips drawn tight and his strong brow furrowed. A shade of the man you once knew. 

“What happened to you, my love?”

Tommy looks away, freeing himself from your touch, and you force yourself to ride out the heart-stopping wave of hurt alone. You both know the answer. Some things don’t need to be spoken out loud.

“I’m leaving,” you repeat, more softly this time, reaching for his hands, “but I don’t want to go without you.”

The truth hangs heavy in the air between you. And it is the truth. Despite the constant pain… despite the insurmountable grief that his actions have wrought, you still want him. You can’t bear to imagine life without him; Thomas Shelby, your calamitous love.

Tommy allows you to lace his fingers together with your own. He has the courtesy, at least, to meet your gaze when he responds.

“There is business.”

You squeeze his hand. “Fuck business. I don't belong here Tommy, and neither do you.”

“You think I don’t know that, eh?” A cocktail of sorrow and anger spills through the cracks in his words. “You think I don’t hear that every minute of every day? The workers say I’ve betrayed them. The rich will never accept me as one of their own.”

“Since when did Tommy Shelby ever feel the need to fit in?”

With your free hand, you stroke his cheek. His eyes shutter as he leans into your touch, his warm breath visible as he exhales into the frigid air. “I’m trying to make a difference.”

“Is changing the world really worth risking your family?” 

You don’t wait for him to answer. Your knees are straining against the cold ground and you climb into his lap instead, surprised when he doesn’t resist. It’s been too long since he held you this close and you welcome the warmth of his arms as they wrap around your waist.

“I’m not cut out for this. For any of it,” you tell him calmly as he tucks you beneath his chin. “I’ve stood by your side through all of it. I thought I could handle whatever they had to throw at us. The vendettas, the Russians. We’ve survived so much. But I don’t want to just survive anymore, Tommy. I want to live.”

You feel the weight of his lips as he kisses your head. “I need time. Just a bit longer, eh. And then it will all be over. I promise.”

You’ve heard it all before and God, how you wish you could believe him. You’ve no doubt he means it, and maybe it is the truth. Maybe this time, it will stick. 

“But at what cost?” You wonder aloud. Because Tommy knows as well as you do that there’s always a price. A payment demanded in blood. 

Shelby blood.

“If you want to leave, I won’t stop you.”

You untangle yourself from his embrace, all the better to face him. You need to be brave enough now. You need him to understand.

“I know you think you have no limitations. Maybe you don’t. Maybe they’re right about you, after all. Maybe you are a god, or the devil himself, Tommy Shelby. But I can’t stand by and wait around to find out.”

After you’ve allowed your words to sink in, you press your lips - now unburdened - to Tommy’s.  Recognition, realisation, flashes across his face - this is one battle he will never win. Hands fisting in your hair, he pulls you closer, sealing your goodbye with a feverish kiss. 

When you eventually ride back through the valleys and mountains, you are alone.

Tommy Taglist: @a-reader-and-a-writer @crysxtal @simpforbuckyb @shynovelist @amberpanda99 @globetrotter28 @iammrsrogers @dragonsondragons @butterfly-lover @sunshineyourethebesttime @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @breezy2and2freezy @fia-thefirst @dreamy-caramel @trixie23

#tommy shelby #cillian murphy #peaky blinders #song fic #tommy shelby x reader #taylor swift #the lakes

[silverflqmes]

໒⦂ 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐍𝐎𝐖.

notes. blurbs including several characters ( favorites of sky’s ) that i feel would suit certain songs of the album, speak now ( taylor’s version ).

genre. fluff, mild angst ( dan heng’s ), suggestive ( wriothesley’s )

for @melukonova <3

ft. hajime iwaizumi, tooru oikawa, wriothesley, ajax ( tartaglia / childe ), dan heng ( kinda dan feng )

gender neutral! reader

ะ ྂ ❤︎ . ˚˖ now playing.. sparks fly.

+ about. sparks fly tells the story of someone who fell in love with someone they feel they shouldn’t have a crush on. they’re a ‘bad idea’.. and yet there is so much chemistry to be found, it might as well be a ‘good idea’. they cannot help what they feel for them, and pursue regardless of the odds.

+ hajime knew it was a bad idea, falling for his best friend’s sibling, but it was even worse for you to fall for your brother’s best friend. tooru would have your throat if he had found out about that summer festival you’d attended with him in secret. still, no matter how much you avoided your crush and willed yourself not to seek or pursue him, it was impossible when in contact with those green eyes that haunt you when he isn’t around. his presence alone hypnotizes you, and the fear of the consequences, should things go wrong, make you want to run from it all. you couldn’t bear to never be allowed around him, it would break the both of you and you knew it. however, when he called you up one night, telling you to drop everything and meet him in the pouring rain, two in the morning on the last day of summer, you came running. not being able to hold back from kissing him on the sidewalk, sparks flying as you notice that heart-stopping smile on his lips, burning away your fears.

+ “cuz i see sparks fly, whenever you.. smile.”

ะ ྂ ❤︎ . ˚˖ now playing.. enchanted.

+ about. enchanted tells the story of someone having a crush so grand, it brings forth this magical feeling that makes them feel as though they are living a fairytale. their crush is so amazing, they’re certain to have other suitors.. which makes it all the more imperative to express the words they held back.

+ tooru forced another laugh and smile to get through the night, because real ones had been more of an effort to make than usual since entering high school. girls swarmed him per usual, something his friends were displeased about. hajime, more so than anyone else, pitched a ball at his head. through the squeals of concern, tooru let out a whine before whirling around to see where hajime had been — and there you were. across the room, from him, your eyes expressing if you had ever met before. whatever grudge the setter held faded into nothing as he made his way towards you, utterly enchanted, and he could tell you were, too. conversation felt like a breeze, his smiles and laughter genuine for a change. you wondered to yourself how the tooru oikawa was standing in front of you right now, like a dream come true. he could be talking to just about anyone; there were people waiting on him.. and yet, he was, with you, eyeing you like you were the stars in his sky.

+ “wondering if you knew.. i was enchanted to meet you!”

ะ ྂ ❤︎ . ˚˖ now playing.. i can see you.

+ about. i can see you tells the story of someone having a crush on another within a professional environment, that makes it somewhat difficult to pursue a relationship. both sides wonder what would happen if the simple touches and brushes became a full on relationship.. and so they try it out.

+ wriothesley brushed past you in the hallway, a signal you had learned well over the course of your hidden relationship. within fontaine’s professional fields, he was the duke of the fortress of meropide, while you were but a supplier from the overworld, providing the required materials and equipment for the production floor. but behind closed curtains, off the stage you both took on day to day, it was all fervor. suppressed want and feelings for one another that could only pop out so often, given how busy you both were. a simple note passed to you saying ‘meet me tonight’ was all it took to have you racing down to the depths of fontaine under the guise of a delivery, when truly — it ended with you up against the wall with him. there, wriothesley would mutter into your ear how addicting you are, his hands traveling to hold you against him as you’re whispering back how he feels like a secret mission, a thrill on each occasion you can see him.

+ “baby, if you only knew.. that i can see you.”

ะ ྂ ❤︎ . ˚˖ now playing.. mine.

+ about. mine tells the story of someone who runs away from love out of fear of being let down once more by another break up. however this particular time, doesn’t quite end in another goodbye, the only thing they have ever known. rather, a vow is spoken, promising to never leave them alone.

+ ajax found himself in a tough spot when you suddenly began avoiding him, always having some sort of excuse not to meet up with him. it was strange to say the least, not exactly something he would expect to come from you. up until now, things had been blissful. the best relationship he’s had, which he came to treasure greatly. in the beginning, sure you were uncertain of him, given his background, but you realized you didn’t care, and wished to make things work with him. right now, he isn’t so sure. half passed two, he showed up at your house when you ignored his letters asking to get together. he knocks once, and then twice, only to find you leaving out the side door. adrenaline fueled him, well aware of the dangers to be encountered in your run as he dashed after you, calling out for you to stop running. when you did, you braced yourself for the goodbye, the only response you’d known.. and it doesn’t come. rather, it was the words you’d heard only in dreams.

+ “you are the best thing.. that’s ever been mine!”

ะ ྂ ❤︎ . ˚˖ now playing.. timeless.

+ about. timeless tells the story of relationship put through circumstances that would tear them apart in every single life. however both lovers would still be intertwined and together in every timeline, regardless of the situation fated to separate one from the other.

+ dan heng remembered only flashes of the life his ancestor lived and whatever many lives that came before his. one thing he found in all of them, was you. he recalled the memories of dan feng the best, having noted the presence of another at his side, whom he held dearly to his heart, as if he was afraid to be separated from them again. and yet, there was also this lack of fear on his face, as though he had known he would see that cherished lover of his again in the next life he led. when dan heng found you at the luofu, he found himself freezing for reasons he could not comprehend at first. but now, having recollected everything, he understood. as if to confirm his suspicions, you remembered, too. no matter the occurrence that took place in your lives, that would have separated the both of you, the cycle of rencountering continued. and the feelings? unchanged. as you were inseparable — timeless to the very core.

+ “we would have been timeless.”

notes. hi queen here you go speak no-ow ( ellie’s version ) woo<3 i tried to include as many favs as i could with what little romance songs i listen to on speak now bc haunted is um.. painful, so is castles crumbling</3 anyway i hope you likes the post and that the songs chosen for the guys are to your likings :’)

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

#— ; 🏹 ) haikyuu fics. #— ; 🏹 ) genshin impact fics. #— ; 🏹 ) honkai star rail fics. #— ; 🏹 ) aoba johsai. #— ; 🏹 ) snezhnaya. #— ; 🏹 ) fontaine. #— ; 🏹 ) astral express. #speak now taylor’s version #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa #oikawa tooru #hq #gi #genshin impact #haikyuu!! #honkai star rail #dan heng #dang heng x reader #childe #tartaglia #tartaglia x reader #childe x reader #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #dan heng il x reader #iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader

[bellshazes]

companion to my bdubs best-of, here's a cheat sheet of my personal favorite etho mindcrack episodes. going to organize this by topic, then miscellaneous stuff by season under the cut. because there is so much.

king of the ladder is one of the best, although you might want to watch the sky shrooms prank episodes leading up to it too. best hour you'll ever spend watching people climb a ladder over and over. sick aerial maneuvers.

boat prank with doc - boat boy! boat boys.

team canada - the first big prank on zisteau, and the painting one - payback will be a bitch. also, ???.

obsidian coffin prank - bdubs falsely claims etho pranked him, so etho builds bdubs a numbers puzzle. of death.

onion pranked - team boobee gifts etho one of his favorite foods.

fun house prank and von sway - a new architectural design style is born.

death games - in order to avenge pause, etho hunts his friends for sport but says if they kill each other, they can increase the amount of times etho will kill the other person. sometimes fails, but also this absolutely spectacular kill on nebris using respawn mechanics to surprise is so good. see also hostility rises.

death games 2.0 - now server-wide opt-in event in the following season. bdubs (and guude) try to kill etho. civil war and an arkas kill.

mass pvp - arena fight night, LENS BATTLE. spawn UHCs, arkasdam pvp,

horsegirl activities - the horse drive-thru, beyonc? and taylor swift, a horse timer, doing wheelies,

season 1

nether project - taking one for the team, etho begins his first nether hub construction in classic nether brick and sandstone. later expanded with help from the b-team.

nice prank - please enjoy this kevin mcleod speed cleaning montage. if you can.

bdoubleo - just before the trial, etho and bdubs discuss their upcoming court case while making trees, 3D cubes, and a big hole at spawn. tune in next to the etho vs the b-team trial to find out why he's got chocolate on his knees.

the underside - etho finds out he's got a roommate and continues his quest for an anvil kill.

the pet shop - etho prepares to open his extremely legitimate, fully-licensed, no illegal activity pet shop and feels just so bad for the poor b-team. also, this is the first episode hoppers existed, which has nothing to do with his new quartz generator.

king of the boat - a bunch of people come together to fix bdubs' flammable arena. shenanigans ensue.

seinfeld fans - etho shows beef his new trivia game.

pvp lesson with generikb - etho teaches pvp skills and learns a new word.

season 2

nether hub again - the nether hub falls on etho again but bdubs pitches in this time. ghost zombies, quartz tragedies, etho's little buddy (betrayal)

i feel fine - etho is NOT sick, tells firework stories while helping with doc's perimeter and helps bdubs fishing rod kill a piglin.

canadian killers - etho's escort service, live, from pauseunpause's gaping hole.

this one just for the wither kill at the end.

workers shack - i literally just love this build fr. he steals bdub's color scheme. for more arena work, see capture points, the layout, bed respawn, death counter, arena chit chat,

#are we all needing etho recommendations. i have a couple #mainly go watch the lens battle and also the kevin mcleod cleaning montage #AND WORKERS SHACK. it's important to me. #etho #mindcrack #don't mind that s3 isn't on there i've been meaning ot add it for like eight months and i will someday. #oh and the nebris /kill attempts those are sooooooooo good. please #masterpost

[emeryhall]

An ask game for writers to procrastinate working on your WIP(s)

Thank you for the tags @shrekgogurt @bookish-bogwitch @cutestkilla and @monbons!

1. 🦈Tell us the name of your/one of your WIP(s):

My one and only WIP is Only Creatures. I’m not a multitasker. When I have a story in my head, I need to write it until it’s out.

2. 🍄Describe your WIP/one of your WIP(s) in the format of “___ + ___ =___”

sad poet Baz Pitch + dragon camboy Simon Snow = obvious inspiration for Taylor Swift’s forthcoming album, The Tortured Poets Department

3. 🌍What tags or warnings will one of your WIP(s) need if you intend to share it?

heartbreak (So. Much. Heartbreak.) 

4. 🧭An alternative title to one of your WIP(s)?

Sprung Rhythm, which is a metrical system devised by the poet Gerard Manley Hopkins. He intended it to reflect the dynamic quality of common speech. It’s beautiful. For an example, read The Windhover. But I decided if I needed to footnote my title, perhaps I should choose a different title.

5. ⚠️Which WIP are you most likely to finish or update next?

Only Creatures. Like I said, THE STORY MUST OUT. 

6. 💾What is your document of your WIP/ a WIP called? (not the stories actual title but what you’ve saved it as)

onlycreatures (boring, but true)

7. 🖍Post Any sentence(s) from your WIP.

“He really is the worst camboy ever to cam.”

8. ♻️A scrapped idea for your current WIP.

I only ever have a single draft and I write linearly, so ideas that get scrapped are ruthlessly command X-ed and never heard from again, but I did find this bullet point: “B has full beard and it takes S a minute to recognize him.” Nope, S instantly recognizes B. Full beard be damned. 

9. 🤔What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

One day I will write "Simon and Baz adopt the Humdrum." It will be dedicated to @cutestkilla and she will regret encouraging me. Also, I want to write a sequel to ALBD, except it will be in the style of a pulp detective novel. 

10. 🤡How many WIPS are you actively working on?

To quote, Ghostface Killah: "How many cakes we bake, y’all? One"

11. 🛠Is there a scene or anything in the WIP you are struggling with right now?

Baz and Simon are about to have a fight (verbal). I’m no good at that. I usually write my ships as two perfect-for-each-other nutters against the fucked up world. Writing conflict BETWEEN my two perfect-for-each-other nutters is tough. 

12. ❤️Not a question, just a second Kudos to send.

ALL OF THE KUDOS ALL OF THE COMMENTS ALL OF THE BOOKMARKS ALL OF THE SUBSCRIPTIONS TO ALL OF THE WRITERS OUT THERE AND THE LOVELY READERS WHO LEAVE KUDOS AND COMMENTS TOO. Y’ALL ARE THE BEST. As Ghostface said, "We all connect as one."

I suspect everyone has already done this and/or is cursing being repeatedly tagged, but... @artsyunderstudy @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @mooncello @larkral @best--dress @noblecorgi

#tag game #writer asks #carry on #only creatures #procrastinating buying groceries #remembering to feed myself is overrated