#but for now im fucking sleepy so

[someidiotwithalaptop]

In today's installment of unnecessarily complicated bullshit coded by your local compsci reject at 5am: literally every* rwby ship tag ID on AO3

If you've ever wanted to be able to search for all fics tagged with an OT3 or all three of its composite pairings, well. uh. here's how to do it

Long post incoming!

Tag IDs are unique numbers associated with each tag, and if you chuck this:

filter_ids: 12345

into the "Search within results" field on AO3 (or "Any field" if you're in the Advanced search), it will filter for all fics that have tag #12345. This is basically useless unless you know what numbers go to which tags (we'll get to that in a sec), but if you do, then you can do fun stuff like this:

filter_ids: 1072769 OR filter_ids: 994409

(Which translates to Bumbleby OR Whiterose)

This lets you search for fics with either tag A or tag B instead of only fics that have both. Afaik not something the nice filtering UI is able to do.

Searching for Bumbleby AND Whiterose just involves tossing two of those "filter_ids" thingies into the search together like this:

filter_ids: 1072769 filter_ids: 994409

You can also combine them like so:

(filter_ids: 1072769 filter_ids: 1325904 filter_ids: 1059208) OR filter_ids: 2397525

((Bumbleby AND Freezerburn AND Monochrome) OR Bees Schnees)

to look for all fics with either both of the first two tags or the second tag. I've been messing around with this a bit and so far it's been letting me make my searches as long and complicated as I want.

(EDIT: okay so trying to put 683 tag filters in at the same time will return an error...)

Anyways, getting back to what the fuck are these numbers even, I put an explanation of how I found them over here (sort of, in practice I used python to do most of the legwork because jESUS FUCK THERE'S OVER 2,000 OF THEM). But for those who don't want to spend ages poking around in html code, I present:

The Fuckoff Giant Text File Of RWBY Relationship Tag IDs

It should be possible to download it if you'd like, but at least for me google docs is willing to show a searchable preview! Just hit ctrl+F and type in the ship you're looking for.

Keep in mind that these are mostly** going to be listed the way the canonical tag appears on AO3, i.e. "Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long" will get a hit, but "Yang Xiao Long/Blake Belladonna" is not in the giant text file at all.

**(I did get rid of parentheticals clarifying the fandom, i.e. "Summer Rose (RWBY)/Reader" is listed as just "Summer Rose/Reader")

Also, these are sorted by tag ID, so this is (I think???) a list of every ship tag in this fandom in chronological order of when they were first tagged, since the tag IDs are assigned sequentially.

*(this file contains every single ship to the best of my knowledge. I probably did miss some and I could only scrape the ones that had already been created at the time but. but.

Amber/Ilia Amitola/Blake Belladonna/Maria Calavera/Elm Ederne/Pyrrha Nikos/Penny Polendina/Ruby Rose/Salem/Weiss Schnee/Ciel Soleil/Emerald Sustrai: 101267707

but I REALLY DID GET A LOT)

so uh. yeah! someone take python away from me askjdflskjdf

[dizzybizz]

KAEYA BIRTHDAY ??? ?? i love you mr alberich sir i love you oh so so so much.

uh dialogue for this one but more legible under the cut (and a messy ragbros page)

Klee: Kaeya! Come down here! Kaeya: Oh? heh. What is it, Spark Knight?

Klee: Happy Birthday! It is today? Right? I even double-checked with Albedo and everything but I don't know... Klee: It's a Calla Lily! You like those, right? Kaeya: I certainly do! Thank y- Klee: Oh. Klee: OK OK OK- Kaeya: Hm? Klee: Kaeya you have to promise to not tell Master Jean about this one! Kaeya: You can count on me to keep my lips sealed.

Klee: OK! Close your eyes- eye- and hold out your hands! Kaeya: Mhm! Klee: OK! You can open them! TA-DA~!

Klee: I made a bomb for you! It even has an eyepatch! He can look after you when I'm somewhere else. Take good care of him! Oh yeah- He explodes if you- Kaeya?

Kaeya: Thank you Klee! Thank you very much! Klee: You're VERY welcome Kaeya!

a lil ragbros too.... kaeya and his red siblings amirite (bursts into tears).. also i am so obsessed with chibi diluc saying "bring em in..."

[slasherscream]

Hello Bee! First I want to say that I really love your writing and your characterization of the characters. I've read so much of your stuff over and over again, it's so good! Thank you so much for writing it all!

Secondly, I wanted to make a request. Sorry if this sounds dumb, but could you please make a crazy ass husbands with an artisitic s/o? Like someone who may not necessarily create art, but is really passionate about like painting, and music, and just all the types of art? I saw you added Vincent Sinclair and thought of this 😄.

If not its fine, I still want you to know that I adore and enjoy your writing! Well wishes! 🩷🩷

Qimir (the acolyte) - Qimir likes the way you get carried away by music. The way you close your eyes when you walk into a cantina and musicians are playing. The little songs you hum to yourself when you’re piloting the ship, or fixing something. Music awakens something in your soul. You feel it deeply. Love songs and tragic laments alike light a fire in you. Every now and again he’ll have the two of you go to planets known for their music, their unique sounds, and singing styles. It’s always under a false pretense. The training or mission he sends you on are usually extra grueling before you’re given your “reward”. Otherwise, he feels like a slave to the whims of your joy. What wouldn’t he do to see you smile? To relish your little gasp the first time you hear a new instrument or song? He likes to reach out, using the connection you two share, and feel what you feel. He’s so glad he freed you from your shackles of repression. The way you indulge your passion is beautiful. 

Norman Bates - You’ve always loved flowers. The first thought you had about the motel was that it needed some nice flowers outside. You’ve traveled the country, visiting all sorts of gardens. It’s an odd hobby, but one you chased relentlessly. Until you met Norman, and settled into the hotel with him. But eventually you start to crave those gardens again, so you decide for the first time not to just admire gardens, but to cultivate one. There are a few false starts. Miserable failures. Mixed successes. But Norman is encouraging every step of the way, and eventually your little motel begins to shine. Ivy creeping up trellises you place against the house. Roses, peonies, lavender, poppies. All in ranges of colors and sizes. You repaint the motel when it begins to look shabby in comparison to the garden blooming around it. For the first time the motel starts to look… welcoming. Like a true home. People in town begin to stop by and spend the night just so they can have breakfast in the garden the next morning. People propose to each other at the Bates Motel. Get married there. Honeymoon. Have the celebrations for their baby’s christening among all your flowers and saplings. Norman doesn’t have a green thumb, but he brings you lemonade and kisses your cheek and thanks you earnestly for bringing color and life into his world. 

Hannibal Lecter - This is one of the ways you and Hannibal bond. You could talk about art for hours together. He’s a wonderful conversationalist, and your raw passion for the topic makes it so that you always have something new to say to one another. Date nights consist of going to art galleries for big and small artists. Something about being in one another’s presence sweetens the art itself. Hannibal often surprises you with trips to other countries just so you can go to their art museums and partake in new art scenes. Money is a small thing to Hannibal. The conversations you have about art? Those are priceless. 

Shane Walsh - He’s never been too interested in the arts. Not before the end of the world and certainly not after it. The only art that matters now is the art of survival. He tells you this often. Tells you to look to the future. Focus on surviving the day. On perfecting the skills he tries to teach you, day in and day out, so even if he’s gone, you’ll be okay. But you make him soft. For all that he bitches, he’s always giving in. Always looking to keep you alive, yes. But he wants you to be happy too. So he takes detours, and looks for libraries and bookstores that are beginning to cave in on themselves and smell of rotten pages and wood. He’s risked entire hoards of walkers to retrieve a book he knew was your favorite. He doesn’t mind when precious bag space is taken up by whatever paperbacks you can get your hands on. One day he might find a town that he likes enough and decide to go through the trouble of turning a library into a home for you. It will be well fortified, and he won’t like how many entry and exit points it might have. But he’d love to see you in your element, surrounded by what you love. 

V (from V for Vendetta) - So much art has been ruthlessly crushed beneath the boot of the fascist government you live under. Admiring the arts, any form of it, is like trying to hold sand in your hands. Your grip grows ever more desperate to hold onto anything. But there is no rhyme or reason to what is outlawed or taken away. Little bits of your soul are chipped away, with each new restriction, with each new burning or banning. Until V whisks you away to his hideout, and suddenly the world is made anew again. You are surrounded by art, art you didn’t even know existed. Things you couldn’t imagine in your wildest dreams. You inhale everything the gallery has to offer. You feel nearly gluttonous. In each room there is something new to see, hear, read. A feast for your senses anywhere you turn. You feel alive for the first time in years, maybe ever. V, in turn, feels his own form of gluttony. He cherishes every bit of delight he brings to your world. He feels like the worst kind of miser. The lowest of villains. What could be more precious than your smile? Or your laughter? Nothing. And by keeping you here, with him, he deprives the world of you and all you have to offer. But the world isn’t kind to precious things. So he keeps you like all the other treasures of this world. Hidden. Safe. Loved. 

Candyman - You collect book nook shelf inserts. Your home is covered in shelves, just to fit them. You have more book nooks than you do books separating them. Daniel is charmed to death by the collection. By the tender, diligent way you take care of them all. You spend hours of your week dusting. Fiddling. Making tiny adjustments. There must be something meditative about it, because you never complain. The joy he felt whenever he held a paintbrush is the same joy that flashes across your face when you open a new kit. He watches you assemble your precious, miniature worlds and ask you quiet questions, every now and again. He doesn’t want to break you from the beautiful trance you fall into, but he loves to peek into your mind. “What drew you to this scene, my love?” / “This one has an enchanting gloom to it. You have such an eye for art.” / “This one looks especially fragile, you might have to be more gentle, love.” He enjoys watching you lose yourself in your hobby. He loves the way you are unashamed in your joy. How you take pride in this work. You curl up into his side, after you’ve spent hours assembling one of your nooks, and the two of you will stare at it in all its completed glory. 

Robert Neville (I Am Legend) - At first he thought you were a hallucination. He’d been hearing things more often. Seeing things too. The human mind wasn’t built for isolation, as a scientist he was well aware of that. He tries to compensate as best he can. With his mannequins. With entertainment. By focusing on his research. He only has to stay sane long enough to fix the world he couldn’t save. That’s all. But then he sees you, while he’s hunting. The sun is still high in the sky, and you don��t move like a dark seeker. You’re cautious, slow. You also don’t move like a hallucination. You don’t really look like one either. He almost doesn’t approach you, afraid he’ll discover you were a mirage. He follows you all day long, until the sun is getting too low for comfort. Then Robert approaches you, fumbling through the obvious (it isn’t safe out here), barely remembering to introduce himself because people have names. Hoping desperately that you’ll trust a strange man instead of taking your chances with the dark. But the entire time he talks to you his eyes keep drifting to all the jewelry you’re wearing. Earrings. Bracelets. Necklaces. Rings. They glint in the light. Hypnotizing in their imperfections and intricacies. You move into his home, but you two drift around each other like ghosts. You’ve been alone so long, the both of you. You dreamed of meeting another living person. But faced with the reality of it, you’re overwhelmed. Until one night after dinner he finds you in the living room, making more of your jewelry. Slow and careful. He asks you about it, and you tell him it kept you sane while you were alone. Made you feel human. Then you look up at him, and he freezes under your gaze. (It’s been so long since he’s looked into someone’s eyes. It almost hurts. He can’t imagine ever looking away.) You ask him what kept him human. He’s not sure he still is. But he moves to sit beside you on the floor, hands you beads, and tells you he's been pretty fond of movies lately. 

Lestat De Lioncourt - You were a tailor in life, before he turned you. In death, in this eternity he’s given you, fabric is nearly your religion. With your vampiric eyes, you see even the tiniest flaw in stitching. All colors look more vibrant. The world looks more alive. Even though you can never see the way certain fabrics and colors catch the light of the sun, moonlight and starlight can be just as beautiful. You drag him to fashion shows in order to soak in the new styles, and cuts of clothing. You are as endeared by couture as you are the various counter cultures that arise throughout the decades you spend together. You spend exorbitant amounts of money on the finest bolts of cloth and thread. Sewing and tailoring and designing can be done entirely on your own. In fact, you’d probably be done quicker if you were just left to your work. But Lestat gets lonely when you lock yourself up in your work room for days on end. He likes to drape himself against your back, push himself into your side. Trail teasing fingers up your arm, to see if he can get your ever steady hands to falter (he cannot.) Looking over your shoulders and seeing what latest fashion has caught your eye is his hobby. You don’t mind the company of your muse. Sometimes you even sit him in front of you as you sew, and let the sound of him talking guide your needle and thread. He hardly wears anything you don’t make. Not only is your work superior, but every piece is made of love. 

Abe Sapien - You love everything about movies. How they’re made. Sound design. Light design. Set design. The difference between digital and film cameras. Abe was caught in your orbit the minute you were recruited. Talking to you, trying to form a connection, however, did not come as easy. Awkward nods as you passed one another in the hall. Stilted, dry conversation as you ate lunch at the same tables. It was enough to drive him mad. He didn’t know why he alone was unable to form any sort of acquaintanceship with you (especially when he wanted far more than that). This all changed during movie night. You were watching the voted on film play out on screen, entranced by every individual frame, it seemed. He’d never seen anyone smile so fetchingly, or blink so little. He bravely, and quietly, asked if you were enjoying the film. You began to eagerly whisper to him all sorts of details about how the film was made, the difference between the final product and script. Apparently, it was one of your favorites. With one conversation, the bridge between you two was crossed. Abe had been so caught up in enjoying literature, he hadn't explored much of the diverse realm of cinema. Happily, you appointed yourself the esteemed position as his guide. Somewhere between sharing your tastes, late night discussions, and dry eyes from sleepless nights, you leaned over to kiss him. He kissed you back, and you both forgot all about movies for a little while. 

Vincent Sinclair - You were an avid admirer of sculptures. You went to museums, and had to curl your hands into fists to resist the urge to reach out and touch the statues. There was something so beautiful about someone taking the time to carve human shapes out of stone and earth. To make marble resemble fabric as delicate as silk. It was breathtaking to you, really. Until you came across the House of Wax, you hadn’t really thought of wax as a means to make sculptures. Instantly, you are captivated. You forget that your car is being “repaired”, so closely do you look at every sculpture. You admire each one from several angles, for long periods of time, face giving away nothing. Vincent watches you, wanting to know what you’re thinking about his art so desperately he feels as if he’ll die. He interrupts Bo from the preparations to kill you and makes him ask you questions. Bo asks each one through gritted teeth, irritated to be playing a game of telephone, but even he is a little charmed by your thoughtful answers. When Vincent insists on not killing you Bo just shakes his head and washes his hands of the situation. You fall asleep in the town’s only motel, but when you wake up you’re in Vincent’s workshop. You’ll be able to admire his art for as long as you like now. 

Joel Miller - You tell him stories. You’re an avid collector of them. Wherever you go, you collect a story from someone. Sometimes they’re fantastical. Some myth or aesop fables that will be lost to the sands of time and the chaos of the apocalypse within just one more generation (if humanity makes it that long.) Other times they’re heartbreakingly real. The taste of an apple pie someone’s grandmother used to make for them. The memory of someone trying on their wedding dress for the first time. You have a way about you. It’s your eyes. The warmth in them. The understanding. Even after so many years of survival and fighting, you possess an empathy that should have gotten you killed by now. Instead you’re the keeper of people’s stories. You’ll be riding side by side on your horses, and Joel won’t sense any danger nearby, so he’ll say the magic words: You got a story for me today, L/N? And you always do. The sound of your voice keeps his head quiet. 

A/N: i blushed bugs bunny curled ears style. thank you for the compliments, made my day! i think yours is the first crazy ass husbands gang request i’ve written! if you enjoyed these headcanons consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anon! a writer's fuel is engagement. Xoxoxo

[sporesgalaxy]

me when the ship fic is not also an in-depth thesis with multiple cited sources proposing an analysis of one or both characters' psyches down to the most fundamental level

[babymorte]

there’s just something about grained out shitty lowlight photos 🤩

[plulp]

shoutout to my friend who found this account because they recognized my artstyle and i was on their for you page

[poraphia]

So piggy backing off the Wilbur x actor!y/n what if we’re an actor but we have to kiss someone for a scene and Wilbur is there watching us act if that makes sense 

"One Good Movie Kiss"

pairing • jealous!wilbur x actor! reader 2687 words • 9.4.23 containing • jealous wilbur, reader is an actor, wilbur and reader meet up after a while of not seeing each other. super super sorry to the anon that asked for this weeks ago! I've been putting it off for so long and I just feel so horribly guilty :c my masterlist ~! ღ mrs. mania ღ on Tumblr

“I've spent weeks away from you. What I'm not about to do is watch you kiss some other man when you're right in front of me.”

♡♡♡

“You’re not kissing anyone.”

I raised my eyebrow with a corner of my mouth quirked up, almost amused by his statement, but Wilbur remained silent on the line. I was in my hotel room after a long day of filming. Wilbur had finished his set a while ago, and now he was waiting in his hotel room before his next flight to a different country.

“Will, it’s part of the script. I kinda have to for, y’know, my job.” I noted, plopping myself down on my bed. All he did in response was hum back.

“Well, whatever you say, dear, I just know you’re not going to be kissing anyone tomorrow.” He said matter-of-factly. I rolled my eyes, not sure if he was joking or was serious. Besides, it’s not like he can just change the script to his liking, right?

Tomorrow Will and the band were going to be flying over to the country that we were filming in for two reasons. One reason was to perform a set for a festival, but the other reason is that with some great negotiating with the director, I convinced the team that Lovejoy could have a feature in the movie. After working with the team for some time, not only did they have a featured song in the movie, but also a scene where they played as a band during the film! I remember telling the band that night, and they were absolutely ecstatic. It was as soon as I got off of work, I rang them in the taxicab back to my hotel.

“Oh, Willll~!” I chimed after Will picked up my call.

Wilbur, who was absolutely groggy after performing, only mumbled when he spoke. “Yes, dear..?”

“Guess what, guess what! Are you with the band? You guys would all love to hear this news.” I asked. With a tired sigh, Wilbur flicked on the camera before outstretching his arm to show him in the passenger seat with the rest of the boys in the back seats. I noticed that through the car windows, you could see it was relatively dark, which was the complete opposite in my case with the bright and sunny sky blaring in my face.

Joe looked half asleep, Ash was on his phone, and Mark looked a bit drunk but nonetheless energetic. “So what did you need to tell us?” Wilbur asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Okay, okay! So remember how I said that I was going to convince the director to feature a song in the movie?” I reminded them. Wilbur slowly nodded in response, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Mhm?” He hummed.

“Well, not only will you guys have a featured song, but also you guys will be playing in the background in one of the shots! Isn’t that so fucking cool?! I’m so proud of you guys!”

Immediately, I saw all the guys sit up with wide grins and look at each other with such enthusiasm. Mark screamed and cheered as Wilbur held the phone close to his face, gasping in awe. “You’re serious?!” Wilbur said. “Like you’re so, so serious??” His mouth then curled into a wide smile before jumping in his seat like a little child.

I smiled, reminiscing at the memory that only happened a few days ago. “Hey, darling?” Present Wilbur called out to me, making me shake out of my thoughts.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“I’m gonna head out now. Get some rest okay? I’ll be seeing you a couple of hours from now.” He noted.

“Oh, yes! I should get some rest now, should I?” I nervously chuckled, scratching the back of the neck. “I’ll see you soon, my love! Text me when you land. I love you!” With some cheesy little kisses through the phone, I hung up and threw my phone onto the nightstand. I stretched my arms above my head, snuggling into the off-white fitted sheets and pulling up the thick covers to embrace my body. My eyes fluttered close, and soon enough, I drifted off to dreamland.

The next day, I woke up practically jumping into bed and throwing on my usual outfit of sweatpants and tank tops. I walked into my bathroom, thoroughly washed my face with my exfoliating cleansers then brushed my teeth to make sure they were as bright as ever. I tied my hair back into something comfortable before slipping on some tennis shoes and leaving my room with my backpack equipped. Once I walked out, I called a taxi for a fifteen-minute drive to our production set.

In the meantime, I opened up my phone to read some missed messages from Wilbur.

Wilby <3: Hey we landed

Wilby <3: so eepy

Wilby <3: see you in six hours ml :)

With a goofy grin on my face, I responded.

You: headed to the studio now. cant wait to see you wilbs :D

I closed my phone and slid the device into my pocket, exchanging it for a pair of headphones as I admired the streets of the city.

Once I arrived, the office was bustling per usual with cameras getting readily in position and screenwriters and editors discussing the process of the movie shots. I made my way toward the breakfast table. On display, there were fruits, bagels, and yogurt cups. I decided to take a yogurt cup and plastic spoon before wandering around the set, examining the different scenes that were being worked on.

Once I finished a lap around the warehouse, I heard the front door open, and it was none other than Wilbur carrying his guitar case on his back wearing baggy clothing and glasses resting on the bridge of his none. Immediately dropping my bag and throwing my cup into a nearby trashcan, I ran up to him, jumping into his warm embrace after what felt like years.

“Wilbur, Wilbur, Wilbur!” I exclaimed, burying myself in his chest. His arms slithered around my waist as he held me tightly, picking me up ever so slightly.

“(y/n)! I’ve missed you so much!” He twirled me around before placing me back down. “How are you, my love?! Has the States been treating you well?” He ran fingers through my hair as I held on to his wrist, not letting my eyes leave that gorgeous smile on his face.

“Surprisingly well! How about you, sweetheart? Have you been okay?” I asked.

“Well I’m certainly more than okay now that I’m with you—”

We heard a voice clear his throat only for us to whip our heads around. Joe, Ash, and Mark stood there awkwardly having to endure the immense PDA they had just witnessed. Instantly, we both pulled away with a tint of red brushing our faces.

“S-sorry—!” I stuttered. “How are you guys?”

“Hey, (y/n)! We’ve been doing just fine.” Mark held up his drumsticks, resembling a wave. “Were you guys getting ready to film?” He asked.

“Err, well-” I stepped back a bit from Wilbur to direct my attention to the guys. “In about fifteen minutes maybe? The director is somewhere with the film crew, so you guys can talk to him in the meantime. I gotta meet up with the cast in a bit to go over some lines and stage acts.” I checked my watch, realizing I had somewhere to be in just a few minutes. “Just for now walk around and get acquainted with the set. I’ll be seeing you guys later, I promise!”

Giving Will a quick peck goodbye, I jogged over to where the rest of the cast was, and from then on, we discussed our lines and what scenes we would be filming for that day. Some of the scriptwriters joined us as well, telling us how they envisioned each of the scenes.

“So this part is where we show the Masked Woman’s origin when she fell in love and then lost her lover.” One of the writers said, pointing at our papers. “We’re going to have a scene where they kiss while the band is playing in the background just to really feel that teenage kind of innocent love. Make sense?” I looked around, seeing all the actors nod, but my mind was racing.

We were going to kiss in front of the band?

God, I know Wilbur wouldn’t be too happy about that.

“Hey, you’re doing alright?” I felt a hand on my shoulder, only to look up at the hired love interest that I was set to kiss with.

“Oh— Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just my boyfriend is the lead singer of the band that’s going to play— Not sure if he’ll be too fond of watching us kiss.” I lightly chuckled to myself, but in reality, I was a little nervous. He raised an eyebrow before turning to a writer.

“Is there a way where we can hide the kiss? So we don’t actually have to y’know— actually kiss?” He asked.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” The writer sighed, tilting her head to the side. “The director is really strict on this. He wants a perfect, loving kiss scene.”

With a defeated sigh, I shook my head. “It’s fine, really. Just wanted to see if there were any cheatways into this.” I said, scratching my neck. “I’m gonna go do my hair and makeup. I’ll see you guys in a bit!” Begrudgingly, I trudged to my dressing room to get my outfit and makeup done. I know on one hand, this is my job, of course, I was going to have to kiss someone. It’s not like I haven’t kissed anyone on a set before! I mean, that was before I met Will at least… Still, I wonder. What was Will’s plan? It’s not like he can improv his way into being the one to kiss me. Unless?

After roughly an hour or two, it was finally time to film the scene. Lovejoy has been recording shots for the montage segment of their band playing as the actors and I have been rehearsing the following lines. But for the most part, it was small talk while watching the band perform. Which was completely fine in my eyes since it’s been so long since I’ve seen Wilbur and the band play live. All of the main actors carpooled into one van and were eventually transported to an outside area. There stood the director, Lovejoy, and the camera crew.

The setting took place at an outside area near a bay. The boys were set to perform at a stage-like gazebo with makeshift speakers and wires trailing along the floor. A little fan was even placed as a prop to refresh the band. I hopped out of the car, approaching the set steadily, unsure if they were still filming or not. Eventually, the director turned to us, greeting us with his signature jolly laugh.

“There yall are! Now, we just finished the takes for the band. Now as they’re playing, we need you two—” He pointed at me and my assigned love interest. “—to stand relatively in front of the stage watching them perform. Then after some deep small talk talking about how much you enjoy the scene, you two kiss! Got it?” Reluctantly, I nodded. I glanced over to Will as he clutched his water bottle, taking a swig but still keeping an eye on our group.

Oh boy.

We continued on with taking scenes. My love interest and I were in the middle of the crowd around us, but given the small venue space, there were only several other people. Roughly, I’d say under fifty people. I stood next to him as we chatted about our made-up lives, talking about experiences we had when we were children, all while a camera glided along the outskirts of the crowd listening to the band.

“Ah, hold on. Are you feeling thirsty?” He asked in character. I chuckled before responding.

“Yeah, actually, it is hot out here. There are some drinks being handed out over there,” I pointed my thumb to the concession stand behind us. “Grab us some drinks. I’ll just listen to the band for now.” I smiled. He nodded, rubbing my bare shoulder before walking past me. Holding back my sigh, I turned to Wilbur. Now was the easy part of the scene where I got to just listen to the performance.

“I’m scum. I’m waste. I’m what.. You want.” Wilbur strained into the mic. I bit my lip, holding back the lyrics I wish I could harmonize with the man. I couldn’t do as little as mouth the lyrics, knowing that the camera was panning to capture my expression. I simply smiled up to Will, and soon enough, I met his gaze looking down at me.

In turn came Ash’s bass and Mark’s drums, revving up to Joe’s solo. Wilbur was the only one not playing right now, but that didn’t stop his theatrics. He swung his arms back and forth, pacing a little in place, until eventually, he descended off the pavilion with a bounce to each step. I looked around a bit, confused and not knowing if this was part of the script. The crowd stepped away, basically giving Will his right of way right in front of me.

“W-Will, what are you doing?” I whispered. In return, he didn’t answer. With one hand on his guitar, and the other cupping my face, Wilbur pressed his lips against mine as Joe’s solo played in the background. A huge blush crept onto my face to the tip of my ears, and all I could do in response was melt like ice cream. I fluttered my eyes closed with my hands running through his damp hair. I was desperate for his taste, something I never realized how much I was longing for until now. What stress I had building up in my system, whether it would be the intensity of filming or missing my family and friends, dissipated just from such a tender and innocent kiss.

Wilbur eventually had to pull away. I opened my eyes, revealing his smug smile, and a wink shot in my direction. “Meet me after the concert, baby, just thought you looked nice.” And with that, he turned around to finish performing the rest of the song.

What.

The fuck.

Just happened?!

Once the band finished the song, the director got out of his chair. “And cut!” He exclaimed. I looked over to see him rushing between the crowd, a joyous look on his face. “That was amazing! From that one take alone I could feel the passion! The love! That’s what we were aiming for!” He turned away from us and waved his hand to his production crew. “Tell the writers we’re going to go a little off-script because that was amazing! (y/n) and—” He turned around to face Wilbur. “Will, was it?” All Will could do was nod with a sheepish smile on his face. “Will, my man! You certainly know how to capture an audience! Alright everyone, regroup for fifteen!” The director turned away from us as the hired audience filed for a break.

I looked over to Wilbur, who looked as shy as ever. I crossed my arms and furrowed my eyebrows, but I couldn’t hide that smile plastered on my face. “So.” I started.

“So what?” Wilbur repeated, playing dumb.

“So this what your masterful plan you were talking about last night?” I inquired. Bashfully he swayed side to side, avoiding eye contact.

“Maybe.” He mumbled. I rolled my eyes, a bit amused by his change of demeanor.

“Clingy bastard.” I turned around and headed toward one of the trailers, leaving him speechless.

“What—! Hey! Don’t walk away from me!” I heard him calling from behind. “(y/n)!”

♡♡♡

a / n ~ deeply apologize for just a really shitty thing of writing. I've spent roughly days working on this? Just putting it on and off. I am very eepy. If anyone messaged me or in my inbox I promise ill respond in the morning. reblogs and likes very appreciated! tysm ssososo much for the support <3!!

[delicatetaysversion]

so many thoughts but i CANNOT stop laughing that all that time we thought louis had some elaborate mind control type reason for staying with armand and it was really just.. HIM TRYING TO MAKE HIS EX JEALOUS SLSKSKKSKSKS

[lilyrizzy]

omega daniel, cw: dubious consent

When Christian first asks Daniel to fuck Max, he thinks he’s being bullshitted.

But-

“No Daniel, I’m not joking,” Christian insists, despite the horrified expression that must be branded onto Daniel’s face right now. “You’ve seen how much he’s been struggling so far this season, he needs some-“ he has the balls to grimace then- “tension release.”

“Tension release,” Daniel repeats, voice an octave higher than he’d like. “Where’s the fucking clause about tension relief in my contract, remind me again?”

Rubbing a hand roughly over his stubble, Daniel has to tip his head back and stare at the grey-blue shade of the painted ceiling for a moment. Counting the cracks in the paint, he’s silently pleading with the universe to have returned to normal when he looks down at Christian's face again.

No such luck.

“His rut is coming up in a few weeks,” Christian continues like Daniel didn’t speak, like this is all very normal and not borderline sexual harassment. “This is three races now he’s crashed out of. We are hoping a good rut can help him break that streak. He needs an omega”

“Then you get him a service,” Daniel almost yells, moving to grip the edge of Christian's desk with shaking hands, “you don’t-“

Searching his face for a trace of sanity, he doesn’t find any. Instead, Christian levels him with a look he definitely doesn’t like, like he thinks Daniel is being dense or something.  

“We both know Max won’t use a service,” he says, eyebrows raised.

“Why is that my problem?” Daniel asks, voice weaker.

“Because we both know you don’t want him to use one either.”

Daniel’s mouth snaps shut so quickly the clack of his teeth vibrates harshly along his jaw. Christian leans back in his chair, hand folded over his stomach. He looks like he just threw down a royal flush. Read them and weep.

“Christian-“ Daniel tries, but Christian shakes his head.

“I have eyes, Daniel. And a nose. So whatever mental gymnastics you’re doing right now, I think the easier thing would be to just help each other out. And in doing so help out the team.”

The fucking team.

“I-“ Daniel starts again, but it seems he’s become incapable of stringing a sentence together. His face is burning like he just finished racing in the desert, his mouth just as dry as one.

“He likes you,” Christian sighs, sounding exasperated now. Like Daniel is the one who asked for any of this, came skipping into his office picking the petals off daisies asking, Max Verstappen loves me, Max Verstappen loves me not. “You remember being a teenager, don’t you? Wouldn’t it have been nice if your first crush was your first fuck too?”

Daniel’s first crush wasn’t eight years older than him. Wasn’t his teammate.

Wasn’t a pervert that was like, borderline obsessed with the idea of having him in bed, working to make him feel good.

He should tell Christian to get fucked.

Swallowing, he opens his mouth to but the weight of Christians's words suddenly settle with a hot shock in Daniel’s stomach.

“Max is a virgin?” tumbles out of him instead, and right here sitting across from his boss, he gets wet. There’s no way Christian can’t smell it.

The smug smile that spreads over his face is enough to tell Daniel the battle against his restraint is finally lost.

[gojobait]

btw i think armand probably thought he could save louis some other way and lestat just beat him to it. like theres absolutely no reason to believe armand wanted louis dead/would choose the coven over him. ultimately it doesnt really matter tho bc he wanted claudia dead and he got that, he wanted to leave the coven with louis and he got that too

[gay-ass-artist]

"The Best thing about summer on Narukami island is..."

Yoimiya art by yours truly

[sleepy-vix]

im normal about not being able to go to mitski + lamp + laufey im so normal about it i swear to god i'm so so normal about it

[cynicallyneutral]

me: ok lets warm up w naruto

me after an hour:….just a warm up :)

[madwickedawesome]

figured id visualize something i said today

[chocogi]

Your job as the reaper has taken you around the world, meeting souls of vastly different paths.

And here, in a bloody train station, underneath the earth, a man with a mohawk hisses at you with blood on his teeth and a hole at the side of his head.

"Ah'm not goin' anywhere," he hisses, "still got shite ta do. Ya ken?"

You rise elegantly from your staggered position. "I do. But like you, I have a job to attend to." Your scythe, forged from the belief of the people who believed in your existence, twists and fades to leave your hands free.

So many souls demanded one last fight. A chance to come back to the people they've gutted with loss.

He grits his teeth. "Got no pity fer a man like me, eh?"

You lock gazes with a dead man. "Johnny," you echo, "there is no running away from death."

All Johnny sees is a skull. He tenses when he blinks and the next thing he's facing is his lieutenant. The same lieutenant begging on his knees for him to wake up.

"Pity disnae fit in tha eyes of Death, ya ken?" He snarks, charging towards you.

You simply allow him to stab into you, dry bone cracking and snapping like fragile chalk under his force.

Bony hands wrap gently around Soap's neck, and Ghost is wrenched away harshly from a cold man's corpse.

[poughkeepsies]

coming into money but still having to work is so fucked. I should be at the club. I can afford to buy more than one drink now.