#made this in chunks of 15 minutes

[neembu]

rajkumari indumati & chutki

real rusty but this is the second time i’ve drawn in 4 yrs

[coffeebanana]

nobody:

me: spends saturday morning re-memorizing the order of elements on the periodic table for fun

[tunacharm]

...

[tofics]

Broken - Chapter 1

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Summary: A year has passed since Joel and Ellie have returned to Jackson when he finds you on patrol, half frozen and half burning up. Jackson takes you in and nurses you back to health, welcoming you as the newest member of their community. The more time passes, Joel realizes that you and him have more in common than he likes... Until one day, everything changes and you get a gift that he'll never get.

Word Count: 3964 words

Warnings: Cursing, near death experience, mention of blood, insomnia.

Chapter 1 - A Brush With Death

Joel didn't know there could be so many types of snow. Texas didn't get all that much of it, at least not where he lived. He'd seen his fair share of the white stuff when he lived in Boston, but somehow, snow is different out here in Jackson. It could have been just an illusion, that it had only seemed different because Boston was different, crowded and dirty and falling apart at the seams, whereas Jackson is open, wide and free and clean.

Whatever it is, snow feels different here. Today, the flakes are big and heavy, a lot more like rain but not yet quite like sleet. They're coming down in chunks, flakes stuck together in tiny little icy clumps that fall to the ground in quiet and wet, prickling thumps. It's not as enjoyable as the soft and powdery kind that came down during his patrol yesterday. The shreds of ice prick his skin as they get blown across his face where his bandana doesn't reach. He rubs a gloved hand over the slither of exposed skin, but it remains itchy, irritated by its icy attackers.

Joel grunts and squints through the white flurry. "Can't see a damn thing in this damn weather," he grumbles, but carries on regardless. His horse lazily trots through the snow. Joel can't help but wonder what the animal thinks about this weather. Probably having as much fun as I am, he thinks and runs his glove over his eyes again. Some snowflakes got caught in his eyelashes. He feels the icy flakes melt on his eyeballs as he rubs the glove back and forth and shudders. Not a pleasant sensation.

He trudges through the snow for a few more minutes, but it doesn't let up. If anything, it looks like it's getting worse, more and more flakes fluttering through the air until visibility drops below 20 feet. "Alright, that's enough." His voice comes out in puffs of hot air. Joel flicks his tongue and softly tugs on the left rein. His horse immediately obeys. They do a 180, careful not to slip off the road. There's no point in staying out here in weather like this. Not if I can't goddamn see, he thinks. Once they're turned around, things are a little better. With the wind on his back, the brim of his head provides enough protection from the flakes and they're no longer blowing straight into his eyes.

15 minutes later, he's made it about half-way back to Jackson. The snow is coming down so heavy and quick that his horse's tracks are nearly covered again, the sheet of white almost seeming as undisturbed as before. Joel scans his surroundings as they trot back, peering across the black and white landscape in search of anything out of the ordinary, but he finds nothing. Now that his sight is undisturbed, the scenery is almost hypnotizing. With the wind on his back, the soft falling of the heavy flakes mixes into a soothing background noise. He notices his eye-lids getting heavy, straining to stay open as they run over white and more white, an endless canvas of the same coated trees and bushes.

It's no wonder then that he almost misses the set of tracks that cross his own in the snow, slurry and less precise than his horse's hoofmarks on the ground. It feels like a trick of his eyes at first, but Joel's instincts have had too many years of training. He perks up and flicks his tongue again, softly tugging on the reins so his four-legged companion stills. Joel peers down at the ground, inspecting the tracks. They're fresher than his own; the flakes didn't have enough time to fill the gaps on the snowy surface yet.

He slides the rifle off his shoulder as his eyes follow the tracks to the bushes on his left. Awaiting an attack, his gloved finger has already wandered down to the trigger, but he doesn't shoot right away. "What in the...?" His question hangs in the air along with little clouds of hot breath. What the hell am I lookin' at?

It's hard to make out at first. Animal? It's big and lumpy, but the contortions don't fit anything he's ever seen. Its coat is puffy and bloated and white, blending in it with its surroundings almost too easily. Joel's eyes travel over the unfamiliar creature until he suddenly realizes what he's looking at. "Aw, shit!" The curse comes out in a hiss as he slides off his horse.

What he thought to be an animal at first is nothing less than a human. He approaches the lump on the ground with a raised rifle, pointed at what he now makes out to be the head. This could be a trap, a voice inside him thinks, but something tells him it's not. It's nothing more than a gut feeling, but he still approaches the figure carefully.

"Hey." The person on the ground doesn't respond, doesn't even stir. "Hey," he repeats, this time a little louder. He nudges his foot against what he judges to be a leg, but again, there is no response. His gut and brain discuss for a moment before he leans down. In one swift motion, he's removed one of his gloves and shoved his hand into the fur that encircles the head. Immediately, he can tell that his gut was right. Heat simmers below the person's coat like a hot furnace. His cold fingers run over the naked skin until he finds the spot just below the chin.

A breath of relief leaves him when he feels a pulse softly thrumming against his fingertips, but it's weak. Carefully, he lifts the head and gently turns it so he can look at the face. It belongs to a woman, pale and ashen, tinging on blue. It's the look of someone who has no time to waste. "Alright," he mutters and hoists his rifle again before he places one arm under the woman's torso, his other wrapping around it firmly from above. "C'mere." He grunts as he attempts to lift her body off of the ground. She can't weigh much, but the angle is awkward and his shoes don't have much tract in the snow.

It takes him a couple of tries, but eventually, he manages to heave the limp body across his saddle. Once it stays up, he awkwardly climbs into the settle behind the woman. Her legs are dangling off to one side, her arms and head to the other. It's not ideal, but it'll have to do. "C'mon!" He kicks his horse's sides and they dash off, back towards Jackson, back to where there's doctors and medicine. He just hopes it's not too late.

You come to with a gasp, eyes flying open as your torso shoots upwards. Your first few moments of consciousness are overwhelming, a complete chaos of blurry vision, a dizziness that's threatening to push you over and the drumming of your own pulse in your ears, loud and deafening over the frequent beeping noises in the background. Your fingers dig into the material of the surface beneath you, a frantic search of something familiar, something that'll tell you where you are, something to steady you.

Before you've had any time to adjust, something's touching your shoulder, followed by a pressure that's pushing you backwards. You panic and grasp at the things that are forcing you down before realizing they are hands, but the realization doesn't slow your panic, it only fuels it. You flail, fighting against your attacker with flying limbs, scratching and screaming and putting everything in it that you've got. There's a sharp pull in the crook of your right arm, but you don't relent, determined to fight off your assailant.

Despite your strenuous attempt, you lose the fight and fall backwards. As your head slams backwards, your world suddenly regains focus, as if someone turned up the sharpening setting in one swift go. The dizziness remains, but despite your blood still rushing in your ears, you can also hear a voice.

"It's okay! You're okay! You're safe!"

You blink rapidly a few times. Your eyes are swimming in and out of focus before they settle on the person in front of you. It's a man dressed in faded blue scrubs. The arms that are pinning you down are his arms, but despite the threatening gesture, his face is full of concern, not threat. You slowly take in your surroundings as you catch your breath. You appear to be in a hospital room of sorts. It's got all the equipment that comes with the territory, beeping machines and all, which you realize are the source of the frantic beeping you heard just seconds ago; their rhythm gradually slowing as your breathing becomes more steady.

The man holding you down releases his grip on your shoulders and moves around your bed to your other side. You follow his movements closely and jerk back when he reaches for your right arm. In response, he takes a step back, hands raised.

"I just wanna help. Can I do that?" He points to your arm when you don't respond. Your eyes briefly flit down to follow his finger. There's blood leaking out of the crook of your arm; the bloody needle of an IV dangling on your bed's railing not far off. Must have pulled it out when I was panicking. It's your first coherent thought since coming to.

You give a court nod and he resumes his work immediately, tending to your wound with concentration. While he works, your eyes work over the room again.

"Where am I?" Your voice comes out rusted and croaky. How long has it been since I've been out?, you wonder and try to think back to the last thing you remember, but you come up blank.

"You're safe," the nurse responds. He's wrapped your arm up in a neat bandage - clean, you notice - and moves over to a cabinet where he retrieves a freshly packed IV needle. "Can I?" He nods at your left arm and you hum in agreement. You watch him insert the needle into your skin before you speak again.

"That's not what I asked." He finishes up his work by attaching the lines of your IV bag to your new access point, checking for air bubbles and tangles, then places his hands on your hand railing. His eyes find yours. "Look, you're safe, and that's all that matters right now." You want to interrupt him, but he holds a finger up. "No, just wait. Someone will be by to explain everything shortly. I'm not at liberty to say. But I promise," he leans in closer, putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. "I promise, you're safe here. Okay?"

It takes a moment, but you nod and sink back into your pillow. Safe my ass, you think. When's the last time that anywhere was really safe? But what choice do you have? Your body is in no shape to fight, let alone to flee. Besides, this hospital bed is the most comfortable thing you've laid on in months. Might as well enjoy it while you can. Who knows what's waiting for you.

According to the clock on the wall, half an hour passes before the door to your room opens again. This time, it's not the male nurse but a woman that enters. She carries herself with the confidence of someone who's word counts. You prop yourself up as she approaches you, stopping a few feet away with crossed arms.

Neither of you speak for a moment. You eye each other, seizing the other woman up, a silent first introduction that seems to go well when she drops her arms to her sides and her body language switches from closed off to more open. Still, you're the first one to speak.

"You in charge?"

"One of the people in charge, yes."

"One of them?"

"There's a council, elected by the town's members." She seems to hesitate but then crosses the remaining distance between you two before holding a hand out.

"I'm Maria. It's nice to finally meet you." You can't help but raise an eyebrow, yet shake her hand anyway.

"Finally? You heard of me?"

"Oh, we heard plenty! Can I?" She nods at the open space on your bed in front of you and takes a seat when you gesture for her to sit down. "You were quite the talk of the town, the way you arrived. On the brink of death." She smiles at you and, to your surprise, it looks genuine. "Happy you pulled through."

There's an uncomfortable silence where you don't know what to say. You fiddle with the blanket between your fingers as quiet settles over you two.

When Maria reaches out to lay a hand on yours, you instinctually flinch back, but then allow the touch. You see a hint of sadness fluttering across her face, but she quickly hides it behind a sympathetic smile. "I don't know what you've been through, but it can't have been pretty. We're willing to offer you a place to stay, a new home if you want it, but we got rules."

A place to stay? A home?

What's the cost? you think, but don't say the question out loud. "Most of all, you've got to be willing to put in the work. We all chip in here," Maria says as if she overheard your thoughts. "Do you think that's something for you?" She gives you a moment to think about it. A smile spreads across her face when you finally nod.

"Great. Now relax, regain your strength. We'll figure everything out over the next couple of days. I'll come by and introduce you to some people so we can figure out where to place you, okay?" Maria slides off your bed and heads for the door. You can see her wringing her hands in anticipation, a mixture of concern and gladness on her face when she turns around to you once more. "You're safe here. You don't have to worry anymore."

She gives you one last smile and then she's out the door. Yeah right, you think. We'll see about that.

There's 57 cracks in the ceiling. You know this because you've counted them yourself, every single night since this house was first appointed to you. Despite the comfortable - clean, one might add -bed, the roof over your head, hell, despite the damn blackout-curtains, you can't find any sleep.

Your insomnia isn't new. The last good night's rest you've had was probably 22 years ago, before all hell broke loose and the world turned into the shithole it is today. You don't remember a day since where you didn't go to bed hungry or worried for your safety. To be fair, it was better when you had her. Despite worrying for two, it was better when she was there, her tiny body curled up against yours-

You stop the thought when the familiar hole aches in your chest. You try not to think about it, about her, because it always ends up hurting, the pain chipping away at the sides of the hole and making it larger with every relived memory.

"Fuck." You whisper, but it's almost as loud as a shout in the dead-quiet of the house. An entire house for a single person. It seems bizarre to you after having lived in tight quarters for so long, presumptuous even. It feels wrong. And lonely, a small voice chirps in the back of your head, but you swat it away like a fly.

"Alright, enough." There's no point in staying in bed any longer. Dawn is approaching outside, the faintest whisper of light slowly creeping over the horizon and casting long shadows across your bedroom. You roll out of bed and slip on your shoes, never having taken off yesterday's clothes. They provided you with an entire new wardrobe when they granted you residence, PJ's included and all, but old habits die hard.

You make your way downstairs where you brew yourself a quick cup of coffee. Out of all the amenities your new home comes with, this one just might be your favorite perk. Where your adrenaline betrays you during the day, you finally get to rely on caffeine again instead. It's one of the small pleasures you grant yourself every now and then, when a night has been particularly rough.

You lean against the kitchen counter in the semi-dark as you drink your coffee, savoring every sip. The world doesn't seem quite so bad in these moments, in the morning quiet with a steaming cup between your hands and the warm liquid running down your throat, warming you from the inside out and filling your body with fresh life force.

It's then that you hear two mumbled voices outside. Fuck. You mouth the word, cursing the fact that you left your gun upstairs. Carefully, you set your cup down and then open the top drawer next to you, taking out a large chopping knife.

Knife in hand and slowly, so as not to make any sound, you tip-toe towards your front door while keeping your back against the wall. You hear the voices growing louder through the thick glass panels that frame the entrance of your house.

"Seriously, Tommy, why me? Just 'cause I brought her in? It's not like we got a special connection or somethin'."

"Then you'll make one! It's not that hard."

You manage to peer out of one of the glass panels and realize with some relief that it's Tommy Miller, Maria's husband, and Joel Miller, his brother.

The fuck they want here so early in the morning?

"Look. When you and Ellie got here, you were all fidgety for the first few months, and I don't blame you with what you've been through. Hell, some nights even I don't sleep thinking about all we got to lose here." You watch as Tommy and Joel climb the front steps of your porch. "But you saw what this place is. What it means, what it stands for. We got something good going here, Joel. I know you can see that. I just want you to help her see that too."

There's a moment of silence between the brothers while they're staring each other down. "Fine." Joel sounds exasperated. "But why me?" An expression takes form on Tommy's face that you can only describe as 'knowing'. You don't like it. "Because," he starts and raises a hand to knock on your door. "You and her, you got the same kind of twitchy."

Before he can bring his fist down on the cold wood, you open the door in one swift motion.

"Mornin', boys."

They turn to you with a stunned look on their faces. Tommy in particular looks a bit strained, obviously wondering how much you heard.

"Saw y'all walking up on my porch when I came through the hallway," you offer in explanation and watch in amusement as relief washes over the younger brother's face. "What's got you comin' up here so early in the morning?"

"Ah." Tommy smiles broadly and slaps his older brother on the back. "Jeff got sick and Joel here needs a replacement buddy for his rounds. Thought maybe you could fill in for him, seeing as how we haven't found a job for you yet." He smiles at you expectantly, but his smile wavers a little the longer you let him wait for a response.

"Fine," you eventually say, mimicking Joel's tone from earlier. "Lemme' just get my jacket."

The first few rays of sunshine trickle over the land as you ride out of Jackson. You keep a steady, albeit not hasty pace next to each other. Despite what you overheard, Joel doesn't make any attempts of forming any kind of connection. You just ride together in silence, keeping a lookout for anything out of place. You're a little too proud to admit it, but the fresh, cold air feels really good on your skin. You make a mental note not to thank Tommy for this little set-up. Twitchy my ass, you think. What's it to him anyway?

The first half of your morning patrol passes by uneventfully. Joel leads you to what you can only assume was a camping site back in the day where he wipes some snow off of a picnic table and pours steaming hot coffee out of a thermos flask into two cups; one for him, one for you. Despite your morning coffee, you gladly accept the little tin cup and sip on the hot liquid.

You both drink your coffee in silence. You don't mind it, in fact, you almost embrace it. Everyone else you come across in Jackson is just so happy all the time, so open and welcoming and smiling that it makes you sick. Joel's stoic silence, in comparison, is refreshing.

"So, you don't talk very much, do you." You blow on your coffee as you watch his face. He turns to you and his eyes lock onto yours where they remain for a moment. "Not really, no," he says finally. "You mind that?"

You can't help but scoff. "God, no. It's refreshing, really. Everyone else is just so... chipper, like, all the time. It's maddening." You wrinkle your nose in disgust and hear a deep chuckle coming from Joel's chest. "That they are."

When you've both finished your coffee, you get back on your horses to start on the remaining half of your patrol. It starts snowing softly, a few flakes here and there, and for a moment, you almost feel something resembling peace.

"Aren't you supposed to be bonding with me?" you quickly say before the feeling can take root. Joel looks over at you. "You heard that, hu?" "Sure did." Now it's Joel's turn to scoff. "Then you heard it was Tommy's idea, not mine."

You purse your lips but nod, your pursed lips eventually growing into a smile. "I can work with that." It's the last words you speak while the two of you control the perimeter. Even though you're not looking, you can tell Joel's smiling out of the corner of your eye.

Back at the stables, you help take the saddles off of your horses and brush them down. You're on your way to leave when you hear Joel behind you. "Y'know, this place really is safe." You don't turn around, but have stopped walking, an indicator that you're listening. "Didn't believe it m'self when I got here, but Tommy's right. They got a good thing goin' here."

"They?" You've turned around after all. Your eyes seek out his. "Thought you're a member of Jackson?"

A dry smile plays around Joel's lips. He turns from you to pick up one of his horse's behind legs. "Sure am. 'S just they're better than I am, is all," he says as he scrapes the bottom of the hoof.

You wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn't. The silence stretches between you two and it becomes clear that he's said all there is to say. "Alright." You turn and start your walk home, back to your house that's too big for just one person, but is one of the few places where people will leave you alone. Safe or not safe, it's the only place you've got to go to.

Joel straightens as you leave the stables. He watches as you make your way across the snowy grounds, away from the people and back towards the residential area. He watches and wonders what your story is before returning to the task at hand. None of my business, he tells himself and resumes his work.

Series Masterlist - Mobile Masterlist

Feedback is always appreciated! If you have any requests, feel free to send them my way. I'm always happy to practice my writing! :)

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters!

[likeadevils]

Midnights Timeline

This is a very long post that puts all the songs on Midnights in order of Taylor creating them. I’ve also included a few other songs she worked on while writing Midnights and quotes from Taylor and her collaborators talking about her process.

If you don't want to read all that, check out this playlist of the album in order, or this playlist of her entire discography. WARNING: there is a very large chunk on the playlists that I have no information on (Maroon-Dear Reader).

I’ve also added this color coded scale of how sure I am of the date: 

Confirmed: There is some type of official source for the date

Inferring: Nobody has officially said “This is when we wrote it,” but all available evidence points to that date

Speculation: This date is based off pure vibes and guesswork and is highly likely to change.

Unknown: All that is known is the year (from the US Copyright Offices

Renegade: March 7-15, 2021 (Confirmed)

Aaron: “I wrote the music [for Renegade] at some point after we finished [evermore], and sent it to her, because she was inspired by a llot of the Big Red Machine stuff we were working on. And she had already sung on Birch, a song that hasn't come out yet but is one of the major ones on the record. And I think she wanted to write a song for Big Red Machine. She very much feels like part of this community to me. So I wrote Renegade, the music, and sent it to her. And not unlike a lot of the things we've done together, one day I woke up to a voice memo from her and she had written this incredible song about how anxiety and fear get in the way of loving or being loved. And she was clearly thinking about Big Red Machine. And then we recorded her vocals and everything the week of the Grammys, when I was there in LA, and it was really nice to have something to think about that wasn't related to the Grammys - just to make music because you feel like making it." (transcript from jaimie)

High Infidelity and Would've Could've Should've: March 7-15, 2021 (Confirmed)

Aaron: [Would've Could've Should've], we wrote that song together, and recorded it while we were together in LA for the folklore Grammys. It goes back that far. And the same with High Infidelity. Those songs, we actually recorded in her house, the vocals, we recorded them then. And I just kept making music, and it was kind, after we had made folklore and evermore, I started to have ideas which I would share. And eventually, she obviously made most of Midnights with Jack, and it became something different. But High Infidelity, and Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve, and The Great War, and we made Hits Different with Jack and Taylor and I also, and it was great to be part of that record in that way. (transcript from @cages-boxes-hunters-foxes)

The Great War and Hits Different: between April-October 2021 (Speculation)

In the above quote talking about his songs on Midnights, Aaron says "Eventually, she obviously made most of Midnights with Jack, and it became something different," implying his stuff was written before the bulk of midnights in fall. He also says High Infidelity and Would've Could've Should've "[go] back that far," which implies they were some of the earliest stuff on Midnights, so it's safe to assume TGW and Hits Different come sometime afterwards.

Summer 2021: Jack has a session with Sounwave, Sam Dew, and Zoe Kravitz, where the instrumentals for Lavender Haze and likely Glitch are written

Rolling Stone interview with Sounwave: Before Antonoff began to work on Swift’s tenth album, he was cooking up tracks with Spears, Dew, and Zoë Kravitz [...] During a brainstorming session, the quartet put together a track that would eventually become “Lavender Haze.”

November 3 2021: It was announced that Joe has been cast in Stars at Noon, alongside Margaret Qualley, Jack Antonoff's then girlfriend now wife. Since Joe was parachuted into the film last minute, filming had already started, making it likely he left as soon as possible.

Taylor: We’d been toying with ideas and had written a few things we loved, but Midnights actually really coalesced and flowed out of us when our partners (both actors) did a film together in Panama. Jack and I found ourselves back in New York, alone, recording every night, staying up late and exploring old memories and midnights past.

November 8: Jack gets back from touring with Bleachers. Let the games begin.

Vigilante Shit: November 2021 (Speculation)

Vigilante Shit is the sole solo writing credit on the album, which implies it was written before her and Jack were holed up together 24/7. Also Scooter and his wife divorced in July. Beyond that there's no evidence this is early in the process, besides it making sense that Taylor wrote this alone, brought it to Jack, and then fell into a creative inferno.

Maroon, Anti-Hero, You're on Your Own Kid, Midnight Rain, Bejeweled, Labyrinth, Mastermind, Paris, and Dear Reader: November/December 2021 (Inferring)

I don't have enough info on the making of any of these songs to give them each their own little blurb, but if anything pops up I will update this post and reblog it letting y’all know.

Question..?: After November 21, 2021 (Inferring)

We know Rachel Antonoff, Dylan O'Brien, and Austin Swift were there the day they recorded it thanks to this behind the scenes footage of them recording the cheering vocals. Dylan was filming The Vanishings at Caddo Lake in Louisiana sometime between October 5 and November 20. I don't know exactly which dates he was filming-- he was in New York for All Too Well filming in late October and to attend the premiere on November 12, but since we know for sure he was in Louisiana on the 20th, I'm just gonna Occam's Razor it and say Question was written sometime after he got back from that.

You're Losing Me: December 5, 2021 (Confirmed)

December 17, 2021: Filming wraps on Stars at Noon, and with it the bulk of recording for Midnights.

Lavender Haze: Early 2022 (Speculation)

Lavender Haze, Snow on the Beach, and Karma are the only songs to have Henson Recording Studios credited (I can't find studio credits for the 3am tracks so there is possibly more on there). This could point to them all being recorded around the same time time, or it could be in reference to Jack and Sounwave's original recording sessions taking place at Hensen. I lean towards the former, since 1) it seems like the Winter 2021 sessions were mostly between Taylor and Jack, and the spring sessions have other collaborators, and 2) the tabloid rumors about Taylor and Joe getting engaged really started heating up in February 2022. On the other hand, Sounwave implies that there was a notable stretch of time between Lavender Haze and Karma, so I totally understand if you want to put it with the rest of the Winter 2021 sessions. Rolling Stone interview with Sounwave: A few months [after Jack and Sounwave wrote the instrumentals], Antonoff reached out to Spears, Dew, and Kravitz to see if he could pitch [Lavender Haze] to Swift, who loved it immediately. She wrote lyrics inspired by a Mad Men scene, numerous tabloid rumors and online gossip about her relationship status, and “1950s expectations.” “When Jack brought us in the hear for the first time, all our mouths dropped. She took it to a whole new world and made it her own. She created different pockets we did not hear.”

Glitch: Early 2022 (Speculation)

Rolling Stone interview with Sounwave: "Glitch,” one of the bonus songs on the Midnights (3am) edition, was born from the same studio session as “Lavender Haze.” I don't know if this means the instrumentals to Lavender Haze and Glitch were done in the same session, Taylor wrote the lyrics in the same session, or both. For the same reason as Lavender Haze, I lean towards this coming later in the process, as well as Glitch mentioning being together for six years, and in November 2021 Taylor and Joe had been together for a little over 5 years. That being said, Taylor could've assume the album was going to come out in 2022, and that she would stay with Joe until then, and bump up that date a bit. It's still very up in the air.

February 5, 2022: Taylor is photographed leaving Jack's house holding a keyboard.

Sweet Nothing: Spring 2022 (Inferring)

Joe is a co-write on this, meaning they likely wrote it after he got back from filming. It also mentions their trip to Ireland in 2021 and refers to it as "last July", implying it was written in 2022. While I was writing this timeline Taylor liked this post on twitter, implying that at least the second verse is in reference to Paul and Linda McCartney. The quote is from his poem Blessed, which you can read in this interview (TWs for death and cancer)

Bigger Than The Whole Sky: March 2022 (Inferring)

Claire Winter, a close friend of Taylor's, posts on Instagram that she miscarried. (I toyed with whether or not to add this, but seeing as Claire Winter made the information public herself, I decided to put it in. If she ever takes that Instagram post down, let me know and I'll delete this part.)

Snow on the Beach: April 1, 2022 (Inferring)

On April 1, Lana Del Rey posts a video on Instagram of Jack in the studio with an unidentified female voice in the background. Two days later she posts this photo, which Taylor and Jack both include in posts about Midnights/Snow on the Beach. Lana: Well, first of all, I had no idea I was the only feature [on that song]. Had I known, I would have sung the entire second verse like she wanted. My job as a feature on a big artist’s album is to make sure I help add to the production of the song, so I was more focused on the production. She was very adamant that she wanted me to be on the album, and I really liked that song. I thought it was nice to be able to bridge that world, since Jack [Antonoff] and I work together and so do Jack and Taylor. Taylor: And with Snow On The Beach, which features the genius Lana Del Rey, very lucky to have collaborated with her on that. And Dylan [O’Brien] was actually in the studio with me and Jack, because a lot of the time we record at his place, and Dylan was just hanging out, drinking wine with us, and listening to stuff, and he was just trying out the drum kit there. He wasn't serious. But we were drinking wine, and we were sort of like, 'We haven't recorded the drums for this one yet! See if you want to...' and he played the drums on the song. Sometimes it just happens like that. (transcript once again from jaimie)

Karma: Spring 2022 (Speculation)

Rolling Stone interview with Sounwave: The bubbly “Karma” came later [than Lavender Haze and Glitch], when Antonoff reached out to Spears for any other ideas he may have to contribute to the album and its synth-pop vision. “‘Karma’ was just a last-minute Hail Mary,” Spears says. “I remembered I was working with my guy Keanu [Beats] and had something that was too perfect not to send to her. As soon as I sent it, Jack was instantly like ‘This is the one. Playing it for Taylor now. We’re going in on it.’ The next day, I heard the final product with her vocals on it.”

April 19, 2022: Elle's interview with the Conversations with Friends cast is released, and when Joe is "asked if he hopes to continue writing songs, Alwyn simply says, “It’s not a plan of mine, no.”" It's possible this means Sweet Nothing was yet to be written, but I think it's more likely Joe was just denying in order to not create hype around a song that wasn't officially announced yet.

May 2022: Taylor teases Labyrinth lyrics in her NYU Commencement Speech and says m i d n i g h t very prominently on this instagram post, meaning by early summer she was likely confident in the album's name and which songs would make the tracklist.

And that's all for this timeline! Check out my others:

TIMELINES: debut • fearless • speak now • red • 1989 • rep • lover • folklore • evermore • midnights PLAYLISTS: debut • fearless • speak now • red • 1989 • rep • lover • folklore • evermore • midnights • entire discography GENERAL: tag

[chucky-vs-the-giant-tortoise]

i’ve got you

JJ Maybank x sister!reader

summary: an anxious Y/N feels overwhelmed while partying with the pogues at the boneyard, and JJ does his best to calm her nerves.

warning(s): underaged drinking, panic attack

a/n: a big thank you to anyone who enjoyed my last maybank!sister snippet. i hope to write a lot more for JJ in the future, so feel free to leave any requests if you have any specific ideas of what you’d like to read!

also please let me know if i should make these shorter. lol. i'm never sure.

Y/N screwed her eyes shut, trying and failing to keep her hands from trembling as they dented her red solo cup. Her heart was beating so fast that her head could barely keep up, the loud music and sweaty bodies that enclosed her doing nothing to ease her mind.

It was a picturesque summer night out in the boneyard, which of course meant that the Pogues just had to have a kegger. Y/N had grown used to the routine by then, tagging along as they went out to buy the keg and an insane amount of plastic cups that Kie always complained she found littered all over the beach the morning after. Y/N typically helped in the prep for whatever wild evening lay ahead, and had even served as a DD the few times that the Pogues got plastered enough to willingly allow a 15-year-old to drive the Twinkie. However, despite her brother's constant pleading and nagging, she'd never actually attended one of their infamous beach parties.

At least, not until tonight.

Y/N had always been shy, the complete opposite of her elder brother and all of his wild impulsivity. She hated big crowds and loud noises, and even though she would occasionally drink one while out on the Pogue, she wasn't even the biggest fan of beer. But JJ had begged her to join them all day long, poking and prodding at her nerves in his attempts to finally get his baby sister out of her shell.

"Come on, Y/N. You really wanna spend the rest of your life cooped up in the chateau?" he'd said dramatically, throwing his hands up in desperation. "You really oughtta live a little sometime."

You really oughtta live a little sometime.

His words had haunted her well into the evening, and at the last minute she'd finally decided to bite the bullet. JJ was right, after all. While most kids her age were busy making memories and taking risks, she spent her evenings curled up with a book in her lap.

Sure, it wouldn't be the most comfortable experience, but what was the worst that could happen? After all, like her brother always said, stupid things had good outcomes all the time.

She made a mental note to correct JJ on that stupid motto as someone pushed past her, blowing chunks into the bushes only a few feet away from rigid form.

Y/N covered her nose, averting her gaze just in time to notice a familiar head of blond hair breaking through the mess of bodies whooping and grinding on one another.

"Holy shit!" JJ hollered wildly, dimples painfully visible in his state of drunken bliss. "Tom, that's some gnarly shit, man! Trust me, you're gonna feel that tomorrow." He gave the boy a pat on the back as he retched, though thankfully the steady stream of vomit had ended.

Y/N only stood and watched. It was clear that JJ hadn't seen her, but maybe that was for the best. The last thing she wanted was to ruin his night.

"Yo, Y/N/N!"

Too late.

JJ made his way over in sloppy strides, and Y/N turned up her nose at the stench of alcohol clinging to him. He pulled her into him with an arm slung over her shoulders.

"Hi, Jay." Y/N hoped her brother was drunk enough not to notice the tremble in her voice.

"Where'd you go, kid? I've been looking for you all night." He was leaning on her now, gleefully unaware as he slowly crushed her beneath his weight. Y/N groaned with the effort it took to keep her brother upright, struggling not to remind him that it was in fact he who left her to do some shots and never returned.

"Yeah I was . . . I was j-just--"

"Shit, I didn't know you were drinking. That's my girl," he slurred with a wink, pointing at the cup Y/N was damn near close to dropping. It was all getting too much for her—JJ's weight boring into her side, the overwhelming stench of beer, the screaming mouths and dancing bodies slowly closing her in. She felt like a caged animal, her lungs tight and chest heavy.

"Hey, you seen Pope yet? I lost him an hour ago—saw him walk off with some blonde chick with a tramp stamp. Oh, you need a top-up? You should go now, 'm pretty sure the keg's getting low."

JJ continued to ramble on as Y/N crumbled underneath him, her eyes searching desperately for somewhere to go.

"Aw man, I love this song!" Y/N gasped as JJ began jerking her around, forcing her to sway back and forth with him. "Yo, Kurt! Turn that shit up bro!"

Y/N felt blood rushing to her ears, her hands growing clammy as her nerves took over. You're fine, she told herself. You're fine, you're fine. But it wasn't working—she couldn't hear herself think over the music blaring from the speakers.

"Come on, loosen up Y/N! Let's dance!"

"No!" Y/N reached her breaking point, escaping from beneath her brother's outstretched arm. JJ stumbled, just barely managing to catch himself and get a good look at the fear etched into Y/N's features.

"What? Y/N—" He held out a hand that she cringed away from, breathing raggedly as she did.

"Just leave me alone!"

"Y/N!" JJ called after her as she ran off, not knowing exactly where she was headed but intent on getting away. She wound up crouching behind a small hill across from the bustling core of the party, far enough away that the music finally fell to an acceptable volume.

Y/N brought her knees to chest and buried her face in them, fingers tugging at her hair as tears spilled from her eyes. Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could she be dumb enough to let JJ convince her that this would be a good idea? Y/N forced her breathing to slow as her chest tightened, coughing in her feeble attempts.

Y/N had listened to a few songs run their course by the time she managed to get a grip on herself, her breaths steadying as she counted eight-second inhales and eight-second exhales. Still Y/N rested her forehead against her knees, so dead-set on staying calm that she didn't notice the sound of JJ's footsteps in the sand.

"Hey." Y/N gasped, her head shooting upright as she scrambled to back away from whoever had found her. "Hey, calm down. It’s alright, Y/N." She sighed in relief when she recognized JJ's outline in the dark, her brother crouched before her shrunken form. "It's okay. Just me."

"Oh," she mumbled. "Sorry."

"'S okay. Didn't mean to scare you." He awkwardly held out another cup to her, which she observed warily. "Don't worry, it’s just water. Figured it might help more than beer."

Y/N smiled, accepting JJ's peace offering gratefully. "You'd be right about that." She greedily drank it all in one gulp, only then realizing how dry her mouth had gotten. "Thanks, Jay."

"Least I could do, since I forced you to come her." Y/N sighed, noticing the guilt swimming in her brother's blue eyes.

"You didn't force me."

"Well, I might as well have."

"it's not your fault, JJ." He rested a comforting hand on her knee.

"Sure it is. I knew you didn't like this kind of scene and I dragged you here anyway." He ran his free hand through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut as regret consumed his intoxicated mind.

"It's okay." Y/N shuffled closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. JJ ruffled her hair. "Sorry I can't be a party animal like you."

"Ah, don't sweat it. Makes my job a lot easier, anyway." Y/N giggled, shoving him lightly, and JJ couldn't help but smile. "So, what's the plan? Want me to drive you home?"

Y/N scoffed. "I don't even think you could if you tried."

"Oh, Y/N," He teased her with a smile, "you severely underestimate my driving skills."

"And you severely overestimate my willingness to die." JJ chuckled at that. "Plus, who said I wanted to leave?"

"You’re gonna stay?'

"Yeah, why not? I mean, I've made myself a pretty comfy hideout over here." JJ pouted.

"I guess . . ." He looked down at his sister with a smirk. "Or you could try the party again."

Immediately Y/N felt that skin-crawling uncertainity take over once more. She bit at her bottom lip. "I don't . . . I dunno, Jay."

"Look, I promise I won't leave you this time. We can just sit around the campfire—maybe try to find Kie or something. What'd'ya think?" He held out a hand to her. "We'll take it slow."

Y/N considered this for a moment, eventually taking hold of her brother's hand. "Okay."

"Sweet!" JJ tried his best to stand, but only wound up falling back on his ass. "I'm gonna need some help getting up, though."

Y/N laughed, hoisting her brother to his feet with a grunt, and JJ smiled as she allowed her hand to linger in his while they walked. The very same way she did when they were little.

Just like JJ promised, he found the two of them a space to sit by the blazing campfire and never left Y/N's side.

・❥・

Hours had passed before the kegger had begun to die down, their beer long gone and speakers long dead. The rest of the Pogues had finally joined the Maybanks around the fire pit, and the group listened comfortably as Kie plucked at the strings of her ukulele. "Y'know what, Jay? I wouldn't mind trying this kegger thing again."

JJ smiled. "You mean it?"

"Yeah, I mean it." She snuggled closer to his chest, absorbing whatever extra heat his body offered. "As long as you're there to hold my hand."

[jadeddangel]

lute with an exterminator reader? And maybe with some added angst of reader dying or getting extremely injured

"Just a few more breaths..."

Lute x reader

Summary: During the attack on the hazbin Hotel, you, lute's partner gets significantly wounded and is given the choice between saving you and Adam.

Warnings:Cussing, Graphic Violence, Talk of Death, abandonment issues, Angst

You and Lute were sharing short kisses in the alley, desperate for any form of touch from the other. It was only 15 minutes until the attack on the hotel, Lute had begged you to be left out of the attack to Adam but Adam made the decision to keep you in due to needing "all hands on desk". So, instead of training, Lute had been spending as much time with you as possible. She was terrified of losing someone who actually loved her, someone who didn't want to lose her..Lute held you closer to her body, nuzzling into your feathered neck.

It had been almost 15 minutes since you and Lute had separated, and the fight was well.. gruesome, bloodstained dirt that had developed into a deep covered mud. Lute and Vaggie were in a rough tossle in the hotel as they both fought for their lives and well.. love. As cracks began to litter all over the concrete walls of the Hazbin hotel, the walls began to Crack under the pressure of the aggressive fight between Lucifer, The King of Hell, and Adam, The First Man.

You were fighting against the cannibals, tossing them over your shoulder when they cane close enough to push their teeth into your body. You had lost chunks of your wings and arms when the cannibals had gotten close. Your body was in a searing pain from what seemed to be angelic weapon encrusted teeth that they had. But you hadn't given them the pleasure of hearing your cries and/or screams. You were probably bleeding out of major arteries, but at this point, your mind had turned off pain reptors to your body. That wad until you were starting to get dizzy from blood loss, it felt like you were dying all over again... and it was... scary.. you hadn't been scared in so long...

The building finally collapsed, and all attention was on the giant pile of rubble as you saw your girlfriend, Lute, dive out of the building holding her bleeding stub where her arm once was.

"Lute!!" You screamed, pushing the cannibals off of your bleeding body using your wings as best as you could to soar over to Lute helping her up out of pity. Lute stood and pushed you away from her, "Don't focus on me! Get that fucking brat of lucifer's!" Lute yelled not even bothering to look at you or your wounds knowing she wouldn't be able to stop herself from babying you, if she knew you were hurt.

You flinched and moved back from Lute and pulled your wings in. She had never yelled at you. Suddenly, you saw vaggie dive in and push Lute to the ground, both of them quickly wrestling for dominance. You were panicking a bit, causing you to drop your guard, allowing The cat demon, Husk, the opportunity to sneak behind you, holding one of his divine cards to your neck.

As if on cue, you heard Adam begin screaming and giving a speech, "No! You don't get to end this! I'm fucking Adam! I'm THE fucking man, and you're just some fucking clown or something. I started everything on Earth! All of mankind came from these fucking nuts! You all should be worshipping me! You ungrateful, disgusting, fucking, LOSERS!!!" Adam screamed at Charlie and the surviving demons and then suddenly and out of nowhere, Squelch!! .It was sickening as everyone paused to watch the large divine sewing needle piercing through Adam's gut. Lucifer poked at his own gut, "Uhm, you've got a little something, like right there" Lucifer didn't really flinch or show any form of discomfort. Adam fell to his knees and then onto his stomach, you heard Lute scream and push vaggie off of her, rushing to Adam shaking him and tuning him over letting out cries and screams. You couldn't bear to look anymore as you shifted your gaze to the ground, you were too scared to move to much knowing your throat could be slit at any moment.

Lute turned her gaze towards you, noticing the danger. She knew she had to choose between you and Adam. It was a blur. All you remember is falling to the ground suddenly and your neck burning with a ferocity that you had never felt before. Your hands gripped onto your neck, feeling the warm feeling of blood, "Oh.." he had barely missed your jugular and windpipe, but it still didn't hurt. You heard a loud scream and heard a Lute rush to you laying your head in her lap, "no no no no.. not you, please.. please.. I can't lose you and Adam.. I don't wanna choose.." Lute, let out sobs punching over your body. You reached up and held lutes cheek, "Hey hey.. don't cry.." You croaked out struggling to breathe and speak. You had never seen lute cry so much. Slowly, all of the demons around you connected the fact that you were, in fact, lovers from body language. Vaggie walked closer, "Lute.. I.. I didn't realize you guys were still.." Vaggie started. Lute held your body closer to her, gritting her teeth, "Haven't you done enough?!!" Lute yelled through tears, holding you closer to her body.

Vaggie hesitated and backed up, putting her arm out defensively in front of Charlie, though Charlie was quite far behind her. Lute's lip quivered and held you closer to her, "Hey Lute?... i-i.. if I don't make it..." You started feeling your vision start to go black. "No, no, don't.. I'm not gonna let anything happen! We made plans! We... we were gonna have dinner together..get a pet together.. you said nothing would happen.. you said you would be fine.. I can fix this.. I can fix this.. this is all my fault.. I should have pushed to let you stay..I-I can fix this.. This is all my fault!!.." Lute ranted, only to be caught off by your loud coughs and blood splattering on her face. "Lute!.." you yelled the best you could. Your body was trembling against your will. "It's not your fault, Lute, I... it's not your fault.." You repeated gripping onto Lute's feathered neck. Lute held you closer to her understanding that she had no control over this anymore.

You couldn't see anymore, "I love you L-... Lute.." You struggled as you breathed out, passing out, making your body go limp...

Ending 1(you survive):

You shot up as you awoke, and you held your neck, remembering the struggling to breathe and the pain of the cut. You were shaking in pain as your head was on a swivel as you looked around paranoid. You recognized where you were. It was one of the angelic hospitals, It was mainly just for injuries from training with the angelic weapons. You felt yourself relax as you finally felt the large amount of pain from all over your body. It was from the bites, the stabs, and... the... the wound that almost killed you... You swung your legs off of the hospital bed, looking around terrified. Wait.. where was lute?! She came too, right? She hadn't stayed down there, right?! Your mind was racing as you heard talking outside of the hospital room and them the door opening to the hospital room. Your eyes flipped up to the person who had entered the room. You held your breath reflexively before relaxing, seeing Lute's familiar face, "I... wait.. Lute?..." you whispered, your voice was hoarse from the lack of use. Lute rushed to you and hugged you tightly, pulling you closer desperately, "You're ok!!" Lute yelled in surprise, sniffling a bit as she began crying in happiness. Turns out you had been in the hospital for about 2 months and had gone into critical care multiple times due to your weakened immune system. After you had gotten released to be able to go home, you and Lute had gotten promoted as commanders of the exorcist army. You had adopted a little angelic kitten and named it Adam. It was your guys' way of mourning the loss.

Ending 2(Reincarnated as a demon):

You shot awake holding your neck and looking around searching for the destruction you had caused, but nothing.. You looked down at your hands and froze.. your skin looked wrong.. you weren't in pain, though.. you reached up to feel for your halo but didn't feel it.. instead, you felt 2 rough horns that were so sharp that you nearly pierced through your palms. You let out a hiss of pain as you got up. You still had wings, but they were black with red splotches where you had been bitten and where chunks had been ripped out. You looked all over your body, noticing that the pattern had carried over your body. You were almost pitch black in color aside from red that had been where all of your scars were. And then, you connected all the pieces and headed straight to the pride ring, trying to get back to Lute.. trying to get back home...

Ending 3(???):

You opened your eyes slowly, before squinting them, there was a bright light, it was almost like... the sun? Your eyes adjusted after a moment as you opened your eyes completely. There was tall grass and tall cedar trees... it was beautiful.. it was somewhere you and Lute had always talked about.. You were in a large clearing that was surrounded by flowers and mushrooms that didn't seem poisonous or harmful. You saw smoke in the distance as you slowly walked forward.. you felt drawn to it almost.. You slowly followed the flowers that had almost created a trail towards where the smoke was.. You followed the "trail" and found a pretty little cabin. It was perfect. You opened the door to the cabin, I mean, the place seemed safe enough so it couldn't be too bad.You opened the door to see... Lute? She was in the kitchen. The sunlight licked at the window, leaving a golden glow on the window paine since the sun was sitting on the horizon. Lute was pouring steaming hot water into 2 cups that were in front of her before looking up at you, "Welcome home my love, make sure you close the door behind you, we wouldn't want Adam getting out again" Lute laughed a bit, she seemed relaxed. You tilted your head confused at the name until you saw a golden, almost ginger colored cat approach you rubbing against your legs affectionately. You shut the door softly before picking up the kitten, "What are you making?" You asked quietly. "Wellll I didn't know if you wanted coffee or tea, so I made your favorite kind of tea!" Lute smiled at you brightly. She approached you, holding the cups before holding one out to you. You smiled, setting the cat down and taking the cup, "I figured we could cuddle up on the couch and watch a movie together, maybe?"Lute said. You smiled, "That sounds perfect.. we always did talk about how we could do that forever and how we never wanted it to end.." you muttered. You knew this wasn't real.. but you were happy... and you would be with her for the rest of time..

[charles-leclerizz]

TRAILER : THE BEGINING

🏁 Content warnings : Swearing.

🏁 Spoiler alert : Please read the masterlist, Character sketch and Team sketch to understand.

🏁 Genre : Drama, Action, Sports

🏁 Reading time : 15 minutes, 6 seconds

🏁 Word count : 3.0.k (3021 words)

🏁 Chapter summary : It all begins now.

🏁 Author's note : So, this is it, welcome to the beginning of this wild ride. Just wanted to explain a few things [so skip this right now if you're not really interested, no hard feelings !] Now, this format is probably confusing, basically the first part of this is the trailer, how it would look on Netflix, the actual video/film. And the writing after the banner, Behind the Scenes, is literally behind the scenes, what isn't shown on camera. Second, this whole series is meant to be very dramatic, it's entertainment made by "Netflix" [not really, please don't sue me] for God sake. With all that said, Enjoy!

Masterlist · 🪷 Aisha · 🪷 Porsche F1 Team · 🪷

[Please play this song whilst reading the trailer & feel free to stop once we get behind the scenes with the drivers !]

The screen fades from black to show a Porsche F1 car skidding down the track, the sound of screeching rubber against the tarmac harmonises with the energetic music that pumps behind the video.

Circular shots of a driver climbing out of the car from different angles flash across, and just before they tug off their helmet the scene changes to the paddock, pit crew, mechanics and drivers rush past in a blur, their differently coloured uniforms merge together like lights in a city scape. Suddenly, everything stops and the music fades away momentarily.

“In the fast-paced world of formula 1,”

Scenes of driving legends hoisting up their trophies with happy grins and champagne soaked racing gear flash past. Ayrton Senna, Michael Schumacher, Kimi Räikkönen.

“Where every second counts and emotions run high.”

The grating sounds of cars speeding past bursts into the frame, Max Verstappen shaking his fists ambitiously as he wins, yet another grand prix, Charles Leclerc as he wins in Spa and Monza, Carlos sainz and Lando Norris partnering up in the Singapore 2023- “Yeah, it’s on purpose.” The Spaniard grits out just as the narrator begins to speak again.

“Our team is about to redefine the game,”

The narrator is revealed, a woman, tall and proud as she sits in front of a grey backdrop. Her blonde hair is cut to a sharp bob and her glasses, astute and black sit high on her nose as she laughs jauntily and arches a well-managed, bleached brow at one of the three camera’s recording her, “Is that good?” she huffs out, thick Manchester accent shining through her cheerful words.

Black takes over once again, and the Indian flag, flapping in the wind from a tall pole that reaches high into the sky is shown, the bright, proud colours shining against the pale, blue sky. The camera pans down to the bottom of the ground, where the same driver,who was emerging from the car in the begging is looking up, at their flag.

But instead of their helmet securely fastened around their face, it’s held between the crook of their elbow and waist. The white base is glossy as multiple sponsor logos are littered around the entire frame, along with the black, bold letters “PATEL” being showed off at the back, currently visible to the camera along with the behind of the driver’s racing suit.

The shot pans up, revealing long flowing hair, black thick strands a contrast to her off white racing suit. The same flag peeks out from between the chunks of her fluttering locks, large and proud on the expanse of her back. The driver begins to turn and just as her red painted lips come into view the scene changes and a different narrator begins to speak again.

“From the makers of 'Drive to Survive' comes a new Netflix Original Series that takes you behind the scenes of the most exhilarating sport on the planet.”

Scenes of the woman running across the paddock and into her garage, her teammate not far behind overlay the announcement.

Another moment is revealed, this time of her ducking into her car, glove covered hands braced on the halo as her face turns upwards towards a racing engineer who speaks to her. She nods before turning to look directly into the camera and lowering herself into the cockpit.

The woman begins to speak again, "Aisha is our trailblazer in Formula 1.”

The iconic lights of Formula one begins to count down as the mechanical ticking echo throughout the grand-stands and the camera goes to shoot the anticipatory lull in the air as spectators hold their breath whilst the engines start up and the last light dims.

“She’s smashing stereotypes and racing towards victory.” The team principal shakes her head, a soft, proud smile playing on her light pink lips.

The team car revs menacingly as the gaggle of drivers manoeuvre their way through turn one of Bahrain.

The Porsche chassis glows between the unmanageable scuffle of the other 18 cars on the track, as both team racers attempt to come out on top in the dangerous pile of engines, the expectant victor of the throng doesn’t appear, the deep blue red bull is yet to emerge. The crowd gasps and cheers as the true victor begins to approach the next turn, speeding down the straight.

The camera catches the proud logo on the side of the car, “Porsche” and on the back, as the DRS begins to activate, the opened flap reveals, “Patel”.

“I just hope people are ready to see her in action. Because she isn’t stopping anytime soon" She stares into the camera as her name appears on screen, a small box enveloping the words, “Katherine Anderson, Porsche team principal.”

Finally, the rumoured driver comes into the scene, walking up to the stool as the camera drags up her slack clad legs, the cream material swishes by her ankles along with the golden payaal that jingles with each step of her stiletto heels against the floor. Her torso is revealed slowly, a tight top hugs her bust whilst the printed Porsche logo morphs against the curves of her chest. The varied tennis barcelets and charmed jewellery around her wrist titillate together as she takes a seat on the chair, and her face is revealed.

She squints her eyes and brings a manicured hand up to push away the straightened hair from her lips, her mouth purses as the unintelligible voice of the producer talks to her, whilst her eyelashes flutter and she hums in agreement.

“So, I just talk?” She asks, pointing a finger at the camera that faces her before blotting the lipstick on her lips. She nods once as the cameraman confirms.

“My name,” She tilts her head as she smiles, perfect, white teeth shining underneath the light, “Is Aisha Patel, and I drive for Porsche F1 Team.”

The camera cuts again, showcasing Aisha on the podium, pushing a large trophy up into the air as her teammate, Pierre cheers and sprays champagne on her stomach from his place on the “2nd” platform. She shakes her head and laughs as her entire head becomes soaked with the bubbly, sweet drink. Multiple identical shots are placed one after the other, of her standing proud and sweaty on the 1st place podium.

“I’ve worked my ass off,” Aisha’s voice over-runs the music, “And I’ll be damned if anything stands in my way.”

She squares her shoulders as she unzips her racing suits and bunches it up at her waist as she stomps over to Max Verstappen, the Dutch man looking equally malicious as his blue eyes roll with annoyance and already red face puffs out intimidatingly.

She pokes a finger into his fire-proof covered chest as she begins to shout, ignoring the worried stares of the crew around her in the Red-Bull garage. Max spits out the long, twirling straw from between his lips and begins to argue back.

Her mouth moves angrily as she goes to snatch the can of branded drink from his tense hands, throwing the sugary drink in his face, thoroughly dousing the shouting man and reducing him to a spluttering mess as she stomps away, flipping off one of the camera’s that eagerly follows her.

The narrator returns, his deep timbre rumbling through the video, “But the road to victory is never easy, as Aisha navigates through rivalries, scandals, and the pressure to perform.”

The scene switches to Aisha rushing out of a hotel in England, the night before Silverstone and the odd, overwhelming flashes of hounding reporters seem to be tuned out of her gaze as Lando runs behind her, grabbing helplessly at her hand whilst tears stream down her flushed face.

Her hair is mused and makeup runs haphazardly across her tan skin, she wretches her wrist out of the man’s grip, shaking her head as her lip wobbles. She covers her eyes before dodging and weaving through the paparazzi, barely able to mumble polite, “excuse me’s” from between erratic sobs, as she unlocks her expensive car and slips into the driver’s seat.

The second shot is of her and Carlos, hand in hand as her shoulders begin to shiver in his hold whilst she adjusts the heavy cardigan that hangs limp from her shoulders. The Spaniard’s face is tough and rocky as his hands comes to embrace her upper arm, cradling her against his side whilst the rest of the drivers begin to flee the racetrack, already tired from the latest qualifying session.

Yet, the papparizzi continue to hound the pair mercilessly, Aisha hides her face as the man beside her stops his firm footsteps and turns to a reporter from a less respectable news channel, the sleezy jounarlist gulps but stands his ground as he pushes his microphone forward. Carlos glances down at the tech with disgust, and just before he opens his mouth, the scene ends, and we’re taken back to Aisha who sits contently in the interview.

“In this world, you must fight for every inch. And I'm ready to fight, no matter the cost.”  She smirks at another camera, her side profile showing off noticeable details over the expanse of her face like the sharp cut of her nose and the splattering of freckles across her cheekbones along with the odd beauty marks spotted above her lip and a few inches from her nose.

The final shot is off Aisha climbing out of the Porsche car, removing her helmet, allowing her hair to flow over her shoulder and down her back as she tilts her head at the camera and leans back against the pale white halo of her car.

She then crooks her finger at the viewers, gesturing for the cameraman to follow her hand as she holds up a singular finger, and points upwards towards the sky.

The shot is then of the of the expansive indiago above, and through the magic of editing, the Porsche logo takes up the screen.

“Get ready to experience the thrill, the passion, and the drama of Formula 1 like never before.” The narrator ends his sentence powerfully as the crescendo of the song reaches its peak.

“This is 'Formula for Love'.” Aisha ends the trailer, waving at the camera before the video is overtaken with black once again.

The title card appears, “Formula for love – A netflix original series”.

As the words disappear, a shot of Aisha’s car speeding off into the distance after which a mechanical, “Streaming soon, only on Netflix.” ends the trailer.

Aisha sighed, tapping her thighs as the filming concluded and many on-set employees rushed to her side, patting at her face along with offering her a can of thumbs up, the condensation runs down the metallic container and onto her fingers.

“Thank you, guys so much,” Aisha sipped at the straw protruding from the can in her hand before smiling at the people who merely stared at her, already putting away their various tools. A compact snapped shut, a damp towel thrown over a shoulder and a camera cover flipped closed.

Aisha sucked in a breath, flicking her eyes over the workers before looking over at Kate, who was signing a paper handed to her on a writing board.

She chuckled at Aisha’s worried expression and the silence that hung in the air, “It’s okay,” she assured the driver, who looked relieved as the people recovered and retreated away from the filming set, going back to their stations.

“They aren’t very used to people thanking them.” Kate shrugged, “They reacted like that to me as well,”

“Oh, thank God,” She patted her chest as she waved at the director, who smiled back and showed her a happy thumbs up, “This is all so new to me.” Aisha tugged at her hair as Kate pulled up her phone and scrolled through her calendar.

“Don’t worry too much about its Aisha, you’ll get there.” She rubbed the nervous driver’s arm and hissed when her phone vibrated, “I have to go, so much to get done before our first season,” Kate shook her head, wishing Aisha goodbye as she walked out of the trailer and out towards their still concealed garage.

Aisha hummed distractedly, before realising she had no idea what to do once Kate had walked away, “Wait!” But the team principal had already left, “Damn it,” She bit her nail once, handing off her empty can and plucking out her phone from her pocket.

“Oh, there you are.” A media manager bounded up to Aisha, surprising the woman as she jumped and whipped her head around to the approaching worker, “The driver’s briefing is about to begin,”

The man waved a hand at his face before pinching his Porsche x Adidas apparel between his fingers and forcing air between the material and his chest. He was likely middle aged, and sported dark brown hair with peppery roots and salted strands that peeked out from between the chocolatey curls.

He showed her his F1 team ID and stopped fanning himself to usher her with his hand.

“Shit- okay,” Aisha stuffed her phone away, following him out of Netflix filming trailer, out to the dark murky sky above the paddock, towards another building.

The office was tall and white, covered with floor to ceiling windows that were shielded with a layer of reflective film, “Oh God.” Aisha murmured beneath her breath as she took a few calming breaths, already forgetting to trail behind the man who was staring at her impatiently whilst holding the door open, watching as she stared at the building by straining her neck upwards.

She prepared herself, flapping her hands around slightly and jolting when the manager cleared his throat.

“Please hurry Miss. Patel. It won’t look good if you’re late.”

“I know, I know.” Aisha repeated, assuring the increasingly nervous man who walked up to her.

“It will be okay,” He laid a hesitant hand on her shoulder, taking an exemplary deep breath for her to copy. He continued when she did, “I’m Harry, sorry for not introducing myself, and I will be in charge of all media at Porsche.”

“Okay?” Aisha shook her head a few times to clear her mind, “Meaning?”

Harry chuckled and hung his head, “Meaning. That I’ll be with you in there. You won’t be alone.” He pointed a finger at himself, “See, you already have a familiar face to look for,” His slightly aged face wrinkled happily when Aisha smiled at him and relaxed visibly beneath his comforting hold.

“Thank you, Harry,” She huffed and stood straighter, “Let’s do this.”

Her heels clicked beneath her confident steps as she thanked the man who held the door open for her and Harry, who walked contently behind her.

Aisha craned her head around the bend, following the acrylic signs that read, “Driver briefing – Conference room 1.” She adjusted her shirt, feeling, for the first time in forever, conscience of her clothing and slipped a thumb beneath the waistband of her slacks to adjust them slightly.

“Let’s do this,” She pushed at the milky white door, steeling her face with a bored, neutral expression just as her name was called out, most likely for rollcall.

But, Aisha stopped in her tracks, the door barely nudged open when a flurry of deep chuckles and whispers erupted at the sound of her name.

“Seriously? Is this what fans are doing now?” The speaker rolled his “r’s” whilst shaking his head.

“How much do you think that cost them?” An oddly familiar British voice mumbled whilst crossing his arms and nudging the man next to him.

And one of them groaned and slapped his thigh once, complaining about “-needing better media stunts.”

Aisha scoffed quietly, so these were some of her heroes? Assuming that a woman could never possibly be selected to race, instead she was an obsessive fan who had shrines for each of the men stashed in her closet?

She pushed open the door, causing a few drivers to rustle and shift in their seats and turn minutely towards the sound of the door hinges, opening and closing.

Aisha walked forward and planted a hand on her hip, leaning onto one leg as each of the men looked towards her with annoyed expressions.

“I’m sorry, fans aren’t allowed here.” A French man, dressed in glaring red began to stand up, nodding discreetly at the security men flanked at either side of the doors- who glanced at each other hesitantly and barely moved at his guidance, obviously recognising her, “How did you even get in?”

“Ridiculous what they’ll do for an autograph,” Another one stood, and stared at her thunderously, his Dutch accent causing him to lisp his angry words, “All right, time to go.” He was the first to directly address the security, “Guys, get her out.”

Aisha held up her hand, between her fingers a prestigious card stood proud, the F1 logo bedazzled in gold foil, shimmered beneath the yellow lights, she glanced over her shoulder at the burly, guards who relaxed at her identification.

“Aisha Patel?” She looked to the FIA officer who stared at her, amused with her entrance before ticking off her name, “Porsche F1 driver.” She announced her title, smirking with slight arrogance at the gob-smacked expression on both the French and Dutch men, both of whom flushed an embarrassed red and muttered apologies whilst returning to their seats, next to both of their teammates.

“I’m here for the briefing?” Aisha prompted the officer, before smiling at the rest of her fellow drivers, most of them attempting to suppress their cackles at the other two’s mistake.

“Yes, of course Miss Patel,” The man greeted her, gesturing to an empty seat next to Pierre who smirked at Aisha.

She began to walk down the walkway between the sets of chairs filled by F1 team personnel and racers, waving at a few of the managers from other teams who knew of her position and staring darkly at some drivers who looked her up and down with curiosity.

“Sorry for being late, I was busy paying of my debt. Do you know how much it costs to get your name on the register?” She leaned forward on her crossed knees, looking down the row with a sarcastic expression. The ones who did dare to meet her eyes mumbled in agreement and slumped against their seats.

“Fuck-“The driver who made the comment doubled over, hiding his freckle covered face in his hands, causing his bright orange athleisure jacket to stretch prompting his teammate to chuckle whilst patting his back.

honourary tags [for special pookies] : @disneyprincemuke, @weekendlusting, @woozarts, @mellowarcadefun, @paintedbypoetry, @33-81, @kazuha-pista-badam

A/N : And that's that, the first ever episode [trailer really] of this series is done and dusted. As always please show some love to this tinker-bell minded writer and remember to comment and reblog <33

[kiefbowl]

i made a string of really dumb financial decisions and now im in debt that might take me years to pay off, do you have any words of wisdom for me queen. like that feels bad. how do i even save up. imagine flushing a pile of money down the toilet thats what this debt it

I know how that feels, believe me. A lot of people do. I'm feeling the pain of my 9 month school loans, and credit cards I had already paid off back "on" again (one in particular is pretty high...whooooops).

Don't lose your cool, I have a couple of flexible suggestions that you take, use, and modify to your specifics:

Tithe yourself - if your job does direct deposit (which most do!), you can direct deposit your money into multiple accounts. Get it set up so your paycheck goes 90% into your checking account, 10% into your savings account so that you're not even thinking about it. You might feel the squeeze for a little bit but you'll acclimate to that "missing" 10% sooner than you think.

Ask for a raise - if you're working, ask for a raise. If you're new, or maybe not that "great", or they're penny-pinchers, or you're just nervous to ask, don't even worry about it. Ask for 3% - this is low, and most jobs will give it to you just for the convenience of getting you to stop bothering them about it (if they can't afford 3%, run run run). For context, if you make $10 an hour, a 3% raise only gives you $12.00 more each week. It's really not much, but not nothing! If you're NOT worried about asking a raise, go all in! Ask for 10%, maybe even 15%. Flex some negotiation skills. Maybe you'll walkaway with 7%, but every penny counts.

Get yourself on auto payments [at the smallest amounts you can] - if you've got credit cards, log in right now and get yourself on auto payments for the smallest amount. If you've got student loans, do the same thing. If you've got utility bills, get them on auto pay. These things take 3 minutes to set up, and there are phone numbers to call if you can't figure it out. These companies WANT you to do this, they will help you get it done.

Work off the smallest amount you owe first [aggressively] - Let's say you have a $60 parking ticket, a credit card you owe $400 on, and three student loans that are currently at $6,000 & $7,000 & $10,000. Forget the student loans right now, you've got them on autopay for the smallest amount you can get away with. First, pay off that $60 parking ticket with your next pay check before it becomes a $200 ticket and a court appearance. Now you can focus on the paying off the $400 aggressively. Your minimum payments will still go off, but every time you get a paycheck, long on and pay an additional amount to the credit card (something you can manage and will also feel good to your brain - $50 feels good when you're thinking of your debit in hundreds for example). Once you've got that paid off, now you can aggressively pay off your $6,000. Don't worry about the other two. Just focus on the smallest amount you owe. Each paycheck, payoff a chunk of your smallest debt. It'll get exciting after awhile, like yes I get paid I can make that credit card even smaller. Gamify it, whatever.

Stop worrying about how long it will all take - Only worry about the smallest amount of debt you owe and how (reasonably) fast you can get that paid off. That $400 credit card, if you can spare $100 each pay check - that's only 4 paychecks. That's not too long, right? That's the way to think of time and debt: how much can you spare each paycheck to pay off your lowest debt.

Ask for help - do not punish yourself by lying to your parents and friends. Tell your friends you can't do fancy dinners because you are paying off debt and can't afford it. Real friends will bring over a pizza to hang with you. Your parents might be willing to send you a check without you asking for it. Don't feel guilty about monetary gifts, just take it. Go to a bank and talk about their consolidation options. Bring a third party so you aren't dazzled by sales pitches. Consolidation loans aren't objectively good or bad, they can be a life saver if they have the right terms that work for you. Don't think it's over your head! Ask as many questions until you understand all your options.

Buy smart, stop suffering - this really should be like 4 different bullet points, but I'm going to be as concise as possible: you'll never get out of debt if you spend your money without purpose, and you'll never get out under the yoke of anxiety that you fucked up if you just squirrel your money away in fear. A lot of people will give you advice that you need to put yourself on a tight, punishing budget. Maybe, but I think those are doomed to fail for most people. And now you feel twice as bad. Don't do that to yourself. Learning the value of $10 is important. So it learning the value of $100, or $1,000. And the best way to learn is to practice buying and using your money - there's a cheap $1,000 and an expensive $10, and you have to learn how much value you are getting out of these amounts for these purchases. If you punish yourself all week, and then allow yourself a "little treat" on Sunday - that doesn't feel worthwhile to me. Those little treats will grow every day. Soon you're stopping at Starbucks every day for "just $10" and your Sunday treat has become a weekly blow out brunch with friends and then week to week you're scrounging to eat Top Ramen and lamenting your dreams are dying. Instead, save money by spending money on things worthwhile that make you budget for them. Go sign up for those yoga classes you want, go sign up for those guitar lessons you want, go sign up for those art lessons you want, whatever it is. Whatever brings value to your life. Your $70 a week yoga membership can now be valued against your $70 week at Starbucks, and as your pockets pinch one hopes you'll choose the yoga over the Starbucks because one hopes that the yoga is serving you better. Or maybe yoga is ass and you want to spend it on Starbucks, at least now you know. Though I recommend your local coffee shop, as Starbucks is a union busting piece of shit corporation :)

[deafmangoes]

IMO, the Eurovision boycott was successful. Figures this morning reported that there was a 25% reduction in viewers (and that means less voting, and less money going to the EBU) in the UK alone - if there's similar figures abroad, that's a very large chunk of cash they lost out on.

Add to that the very visible protest efforts not only from the crowds in Malmö, but also the contestants themselves and the crowd in the arena - the EBU felt the need to edit Israel's performance so that the booing wasn't quite as loud, and even added fake cheering. They kept cutting away from the clearly unhappy audience who turned off all their lights (a 'black sea') to indicate their displeasure.

Then there was the backstage incident with the Dutch team, where EBU camera crews harassed them to the point where the Dutch performed, Joost Klein, snapped back at them - resulting in his unfair disqualification before the final and a lot of anger from the Dutch broadcasters. They refused to give their votes live and are even suing the EBU over it.

Ireland's Bambie Thug managed to successfully sneak in some pro-Palestine messages last minute into their costume, and Switzerland's Nemo, who won the contest, made a pointed speech directed at both the audience and EBU. Feelings were even stronger in the semi-finals, with France's Slimane stopping her own performance to give a speech on stage, and further protests from Australia, Ireland and others.

All through the night there were reports of people registering their disapproval: several guests dropped out and refused to give live votes. Loreen, the incumbent winner, stated her refusal to award Israel in person if they were victorious.

The EBU has lost money and severely damaged its reputation, and for what? It doesn't look like they've gained anything from this. Going forward, people will remember their stance and complicity in Israel's propaganda efforts. It's kind of ironic that next year's show will be in the infamously neutral Switzerland.

Maybe they'll learn from this. Hopefully we will, too. In the meanwhile, don't stop talking about Palestine.

As a final addition, I want to highlight that there was a grassroots alternative contest organised last night - FalastinVision. It was plagued with technical issues but it had a lot of heart and featured 15 entrants with songs highlighting the genocide and the global politics surrounding it. I'm not sure what viewing figures it got - I glimpsed at least 730 active viewers on the livestream and know that most of those were watch parties and groups (like my own), so reasonably viewership was in the few thousands.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Poor people pay higher time tax

Doubtless you’ve heard that “we all get the same 24 hours in the day.” Of course it’s not true: rich people and poor people experience very different demands on their time. The richer you are, the more your time is your own — not only are many systems arranged with your convenience in mind, but you also command the social power to do something about systems that abuse your time.

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/2023/02/10/my-time/#like-water-down-the-drain

For example: if you live in most American cities, public transit is slow, infrequent and overcrowded. Without a car, you lose hours every day to a commute spent standing on a lurching bus. And while a private car can substantially shorted that commute, people who can afford taxis or Ubers get even more time every day.

There’s a thick anthropological literature on the ways that cash-poverty translates into #TimePoverty. In David Graeber’s must-read essay “The Utopia of Rules,” he nails the way that capitalist societies generate Soviet-style bureaucracies, especially for poor people. Means-testing for benefits means that poor people spend endless hours filling in forms, waiting on hold, and lining up to see caseworkers to prove that they are among the “deserving poor” — not “mooches” who are defrauding the system:

https://memex.craphound.com/2015/02/02/david-graebers-the-utopia-of-rules-on-technology-stupidity-and-the-secret-joys-of-bureaucracy/

The social privilege gradient is also a time gradient: if you can afford a plane ticket, you can travel quickly across the country rather than losing days to the Greyhound or a road-trip. But if you’re even richer, you can pay for TSA Precheck and cut your airport security time from an hour to minutes. Go further up the privilege gradient and you’ll acquire airline status, shaving another hour off the check-in process.

This qualitative account of time poverty is well-developed, but it’s lacked a good, detailed quantitative counterpart, and our society often discounts qualitative work as mere anecdote and insists on having every story converted to numbers before it is taken seriously.

In “Examining inequality in the time cost of waiting,” published this month in Nature Human Behavior, public affairs researchers Steve Holt (SUNY) and Katie Vinopal (Ohio State) analyze data from the American Time Use Survey (AUTS) to produce a detailed, vibrant quantitative backstop to the qualitative narrative about time poverty:

https://www.nature.com/articles/s41562-023-01524-w

(The paper is paywalled, but the authors made a mostly final preprint available)

https://osf.io/preprints/socarxiv/jbk3x/download

The AUTS “collects retrospective time diary data from a nationally representative subsample drawn from respondents to the Census Bureau’s Community Population Survey (CPS) each year.” These time-diary entries are sliced up in 15-minute chunks.

Here’s what they found: first, there are categories of basic services where high-income people avoid waiting altogether, and where low-income people experience substantial waits. A person from a low-income household “an hour more waiting for the same set of services than people from high-income household.” That’s 73 hours/year.

Some of that gap (5%) is attributable to proximity. Richer people don’t have to go as far to access the same services as poorer people. Travel itself accounts for 2% more — poorer people wait longer for buses and have otherwise worse travel options.

A larger determinant of the gap (25%) is working flexibility. Poor people work jobs where they have less freedom to take time off to receive services, so they are forced to take appointments during peak hours.

Specific categories show more stark difference. If a poor person and a wealthy person go to the doctor’s on the same day, the poor person waits 46.28m to receive care, while the wealthy person waits 28.75m. The underlying dynamic here isn’t hard to understand. Medical practices that serve rich people have more staff.

The same dynamic plays out in grocery stores: poor people wait an average of 24m waiting every time they go shopping. For rich people, it’s 15m. Poor people don’t just wait in longer lines — they also have to wait for understaffed stores to unlock the cases that basic necessities are locked behind (poor people also travel longer to get to the grocery store — and they travel by slower means).

A member of a poor household with a chronic condition that requires two clinic visits per month loses an additional five hours/year to waiting rooms when compared to a wealthy person. As the authors point out, this also translates to delayed care, missed appointments, and exacerbated health conditions. Time poverty leads to health poverty.

All of this is worse for people of color: “Low-income White and Black Americans are both more likely to wait when seeking services than their wealthier same-race peer” but “wealthier White people face an average wait time of 28 minutes while wealthier Black people face a 54 minute average wait time…wealthier Black people do not receive the same time-saving attention from service providers that wealthier non-Black people receive” (there’s a smaller gap for Latino people, and no observed gap for Asian Americans.)

The gender gap is more complicated: “Low-income women are 3 percentage points more likely than low-income men and high-income women are 6 percentage points more likely than high-income men to use common services” — it gets even worse for low-income mothers, who take on the time-burdens associated with their kids’ need to access services.

Surprisingly, men actually end up waiting longer than women to access services: “low-income men spend about 6 more minutes than low-income women waiting for service…high-income men spend about 12 more minutes waiting for services than high-income women.”

Given the important role that scheduling flexibility plays in the time gap, the authors propose that interventions like subsidized day-care and afterschool programming could help parents access services at off-peak hours. They also echo Graeber’s call for reduced paperwork burdens for receiving benefits and accessing public services.

They recommend changes to labor law to protect the right of low-waged workers to receive services during off-peak hours, in the manner of their high-earning peers (they reference research that shows that this also improves worker productivity and is thus a benefit to employers as well as workers).

Finally, they come to the obvious point: making people less cash-poor will alleviate their time-poverty. Higher minimum wages, larger earned income tax credits, investments in low-income neighborhoods and better public transit will all give poor people more time and more money with which to command better services.

This week (Feb 13–17), I’ll be in Australia, touring my book Chokepoint Capitalism with my co-author, Rebecca Giblin. We’re doing a remote event for NZ on Feb 13. Next are Melbourne (Feb 14), Sydney (Feb 15) and Canberra (Feb 16/17). More tickets just released for Sydney!

[Image ID: A waiting room, draped with cobwebs. A skeleton sits in one of the chairs. A digital display board reads 'Now serving 53332.' An ogrish, top-hatted figure standing at a podium, yanking a dollar-sign shaped lever looms into the frame from the right. He holds a clock aloft disdainfully, pinched between the thumb and fingers of one white-gloved hand.]

[findmeintheferns]

sweet dreams

fuck me like you missed me then

𝓢𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂: y/n can’t sleep, how could she? she had gotten so used to ellie fcking her every night before bed. since ellie and cat were back together they can’t anymore. uno because that would be wrong, right? right???

𝓦𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰: angst, smut (oral sex, fingering), apologies if there is typos i got sick of rereading this lol

𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 1.5k

𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰: ellie williams (TLOU) x reader

————

You had tried everything, you mediated, downed 2 cups of chamomile tea, took a warm shower, read. Hell, you even counted sheep for a solid 15 minutes to no avail. You just could not sleep. Usually you wouldn’t really care that much, you enjoyed your quiet time and would spent the night finishing a book or watching whatever movie you could scavenge from crumbling houses. Nighttime was really the only time you could be alone. However tomorrow you had patrol at 5am and you didn’t really love the idea of no sleep before that. You stared at the clock as the hand crept closer and closer to the early hours of the morning.

“That’s it. Fuck it.” you groaned in frustration, pushing yourself off your couch and marching towards the door. You knew deep down this wasn’t a great idea, but you were desperate. It was freezing outside, you didn’t even bother to put on a jacket before making your way to Ellie’s. You see, the past few months between you and her had been kinda awkward. You were best friends since Ellie and Joel had returned from Salt Lake City. You met her during a rough time, and you bonded over that. She was the first person you ever did a patrol with, you know, without a group. You always knew there was something more there, you just didn’t act on it. However when Ellie and Cat went on their first ‘break’ you slipped up. The two of you had been drinking alone in her room, she couldn’t stop complaining about her ex and you were getting fed up of hearing about it. You didn’t like Cat in the first place, and the idea of making her jealous lit a fire in you, one didn’t know was there before. Ellie was mid sentence, saying something along the lines of, “And you know what fucking gets me? She says that I should cut YOU out of my life because you secretly want me blah blah blah yet she’s always with stupid Bailey, the one person I know for a fact wants to fuc-“ you cut her off, pressing your lips against hers and making her shut up. She pulled away, looking kinda shocked. That shock however didn’t last long because about 2 seconds later she was pulling you into her lap by your tank top and roughly kissing you back. After that incident you continued to fuck for a few weeks, spending almost every night in her bed or her in yours. The problem was you didn’t talk about it, probably because you knew it was wrong. You’d simply wait for one another the second it got dark out to show up at the door and then spend a solid chunk of the night having the best sex of your life. This was up until a week ago, which is when you noticed Cat desperately trying to fix things with Ellie.

“Wait- y/n, don’t go. I don’t understand?” Ellie quickly followed after you as you made your way to the door.

“Cat wants you back Ellie, come on we can’t keep doing this.” You grab the door handle but Ellie’s hand grabs yours, stopping you from being able to twist it. You make eye contact with her and sigh.

“Why does it matter if she wants me back?” she asks, confused.

You push her hand off yours, aggressively opening the door.

“You clearly want her too, you shouldn’t ruin your chances by continuing something that’s purely just sex.”

You don’t give her a chance to reply, you don’t even look at her face, scared that her expression will convince you she’s feeling something she’s not. You didn’t have the balls to tell her how you actually felt, like how you wish you were hers instead of Cat, or how you were scared to take it any further because you couldn’t risk losing her as a friend. From then on you had barely been talking, she seemed kinda pissed off at you actually. Plus her and Cat were back together, so yeah, you knew it was the wrong thing to do, but you no longer gave a fuck. You reach her door and gently knock three times, wondering if she’ll even be awake to hear it. Suddenly a sleepy, groggy Ellie opens the door, looking puzzled.

“Y/n? Is everything okay?” she mumbled staring at you with confusion. You don’t waste anytime making your way into her room and slamming the door shut.

“Y/n I don’t understa-“ You cut her off again, grabbing her face and pressing her lips to yours. You expect her to get angry at you but instead she returns the kiss even more rough then you were. Before you know it she has pushed you onto the bed, her lean but muscular body on top of yours. You moan at the sight of her, she’s wearing a singlet with with no bra, so you can see how hard her nipples are already. Her hair is a little messy, probably from sleep, but still looks good somehow. She practically tears your shirt off you and moves her kisses from your lips down your neck and to your breasts. You gasp at the feeling of her lips on your chest as she intently sucks your nipples, making your whole body tingle. You pull on her hair and she lets out a moan, moving back to your lips. You’ve made out for too long, you need more, you grind against her leg and she retaliates, pressing her thigh into your clit. You grab her singlet and pull it off without hesitating. You begin unbuttoning her pants however you’re interrupted by her raspy voice.

“Wait, wait, wait, Y/n. Are we really doing this?” she says, clearly out of breath.

“I mean, only if you want to” you shrug

“I want to. I really want to. But i’m confused, you told me to get back with Cat? You made it clear that what we had was just sex, are you just really horny because if that’s the cas-“

You press you finger to her lips.

“Ellie, come on did you really think this was just sex to me? I hate Cat, I envy her. I’ve wanted you since we were 15 but I couldn’t risk losing you. I just can’t pretend anymore.”

You watch Ellie’s face carefully, scared that what she’ll say next will cause you two to never speak again. Instead she softly rubs her fingers on against your cheek.

“I really wish you told me earlier, we wasted so much time. I missed you this last week, a lot.” she sighs.

You are so relieved you could actually cry, but now is not the time for that.

“Fuck me like you missed me then.” you don’t have time to say anything else, because the second you finished your sentence Ellie has lifted you up and roughly placed you on top of her hips so that you are straddling her as she lays down. Your lips reconnect and you grind down hard.

“I need you” you moan, drunk on the how good this feels.

“I’ve got you baby” she replies, flipping you over and pulling your pants down quicker than you thought was humanly possible. She unbuttons her pants so you are both naked, your pussy pulsing from the sight.

“So wet for me huh baby?” she hums, causing you to groan.

Wasting no time she presses her mouth against your clit, moaning at your reaction to her tongue. It isn’t long before you feel your stomach begin to grow warm, you’re not going to last long. You grab her hand that is tightly gripped against your thigh. She always does this so she can hold you in place while she licks and sucks in the perfect rhythm. You push her hand further down and she knows exactly what you want. She presses her fingers inside you and you throw your head against the pillow, making the headboard loudly hit the wall. She continues to finger you while using her magic mouth on your clit as you feel yourself begin to come undone. It makes you so fucking wet how much she loves eating your pussy.

“F-fuck, FUCK, Ellie i’m so close. I’m so so fucking close ughh” you moan worryingly loud but oh well, you couldn’t care less in this moment. Ellie moans into your pussy and you’re thrown over the edge, cumming arguably harder than you’ve ever cum in your life. Ellie rolls over, laying next to you, as you both try and catch your breath.

“Fuck.” You groan, thinking about how good she makes you feel. You roll over and look at her, sweaty and breathless.

“You okay?” you ask “You seem kinda out of breath.” She turns to look at you, her cheeks bright pink.

“I-I um, sorta”

“Spit it out Ellie” you say impatiently, worried something is wrong.

“Shut up” she retaliates “I came. When I was eating you out idk how but I finished”

You giggle, moving so that you are now on top of her.

“Naw don’t be embarrassed Els, wanna cum again?” you whisper in her ear causing her to groan,

“You know I fucking do”.

[bellswlw]

thinking about reader giving ellie a haircut and fucking up the front lol.

"You almost done?" she asked, her head tilted toward the ground as she sat as still as she could in the kitchen of your place.

"You know, I would be if you stopped moving." and as you said it, you were met with the 'snip' that the craft scissors made against Ellie's damp hair.

You weren't amazing at giving haircuts, but you cut your own, and often Ellie's when she asked. Plus, it wasn't like it's as big a deal as going outside and getting ripped apart by infected.

Just then Ellie had let her leg fall still, her foot meeting the ground with a soft thud mid bounce. She hated when people touched her hair, even you. She never really cared for it at all, never really understood why people had made such a fuss about it before the outbreak either.

Who cares if it was short or long or dyed this color or that, or if you liked to wear it this way or that. None of it really mattered to her. It would grow back eventually.

Hers had always been kept pretty short because that's just how she liked it. She never really got bored of it, but it bothered her when it grew just long enough past her shoulders that it would snag on her backpack or get stuck in her armpit.

And she couldn't cut it by herself for shit. She had tried a few times, but it never really came out right. And so, as much as she hated the feeling of her hair in someone else's hands and having to sit perfectly still for nearly 15 minutes, she did it. Because she enjoyed seeing the look on your face after you were finished, swiping the towel from around her neck and revealing a small mirror to you. A small "Ta-da!" always making the mirror shake before she grabbed it.

But this time... this time, you had gotten a little sloppy. Not by a lot, but just enough to clip the smallest amount more than you normally did.

Ellie's bangs had always bothered her when they got too long. They would fall right in front of her eyes, so much so that not even trying to blow them to the side worked.

You gasped, and the second the air entered your lungs you wanted to spit them back out and stall Ellie from jumping back from your touch.

"What? What?" she said, looking up at you with a small aline chunk of her hair missing.

"Oh shit." you said under your breath, and as much as you tried to fight the smile that crept into your face, you broke, letting out a laugh that only made Ellie more nervous.

"Don't laugh. What? What'd you do? Fuck, is it bad? Did you fuck up my bangs?" and she reached from underneath the towel, trying to eye and finger the piece of hair in front of her face.

"No no, don't." and you grabbed onto her wrist before she could touch her hair.

"I can fix it." you said now, and your fingers were combing through it, the other hand clasped against your mouth trying to hold back more laughter.

"This isn't funny. How bad is it? I- you know what, give me the mirror."

"Ellie…”

"No. Give it. I wanna see."

And reluctantly, you handed it over, watching her eyes widen as she took in the sight.

She blinks up at you, her eyes cutting into you so deeply that all you can do is laugh. It looked ridiculous. "I'm sorry." you say as your giggles topple you forward, hanging onto the counter for support.

"No. Never again. Shit- what the FUCK. I didn't even move!" and she's shaking her head at you, the bangs following her movements as they slowly sway side to side lazily.

"I- I'm sorry, okay? Here, let me fix it." and you wipe the tears that had pooled in your eyes suddenly before you stand before Ellie and try to fix her stupid little bangs.

[idanceuntilidie]

You have 1 new message

Beep

Hey could you do yandere villainess x GN reader? (I was gonna say female reader but GN is kinda better that’s all)

Beep

I can say this req took me a year haha I will stop now

Yandere villainess x gn reader

Warnings: yandere themes, suggestive themes, Stockholm syndrome, kidnapping

Taking What’s Not Yours

Moving to the town was a big step for you.

It was also a sign of freedom and independence which you yearned for since you finished highschool.

Your job sucked though, you can’t really have everything it seems.

In a world of heroes and villains you are just a simple, very very basic human being. Slaving your life away in some retail.

But then your eyes wander to the tv in your room after hard days of work, and see the chaos in the world of heroes and thank heavens you don’t need to take part in that, especially when with that new villainess around.

You rub your tired eyes and look at your phone. Just 15 minutes left, and you can leave this hell hole.

„Y/N hide me!” Charlotte, your new coworker screeched.

She hid behind you, despite your tired protests, and you finally saw what she was running away from. A young girl, probably still in highschool. Her face was bright red, she looked pissed off.

“Well Charlotte gotta admit, making people angry is your specialty”

You heard her whine, which made you sigh and look at the highschool girl again. She walked away, thank Gods.

Seeing that Charlotte slowly let go of your shirt and smiled awkwardly. She is new here but oh dear she just exists and creates trouble, and she has been here like a week. You pat her head lightly as you check your phone.

Freedom. You smile proudly and look at Charlotte.

“Well looks like you will have to deal with everyone until Mikey comes, good luck!”

You proudly walked to the staff room to get your things, ignoring the wailing Charlotte.

You breathe in the not so fresh air. Ah yes, city life.

The sun was going down, making the city look stunning. The orange light made it feel warm and cozy. You gotta take a photo.

You turned around to face the sun and take a few photos when you heard a crash, looking up you see a huge chunk of a building falling right at you. You freeze, a scream stuck in your throat. Well so that’s how you die? You expect a piano to be honest. It looks like you were in the middle of a fight. You closed your eyes and sheltered your face. Let death be quick and painless.

Nothing happened, you were still alive. Your heart thumping in your ears makes you disoriented. You open your eyes to see someone lifting the fallen chunk of the building.

Holy shit. It’s motherfucking Caelus.

Well this is the first time you see a hero in action, hell this one even saved your ass.

“You okay?”

“A-Ah?” you managed to squeak out, face getting hot from embarrassment.

“Run and hide, it’s not safe here.”

He threw away the chunk and ran back to help other heroes.

Ah. You just embarrassed yourself in front of one of the most popular people in the entire world. Way to go superstar.

You went to work the next day, you really didn’t want to. Hell you were kind of scared something might happen to you again, but you knew better than to try to reason with the manager.

He has a peanut for a brain and you don’t feel like talking to an elementary kid.

This time you and Charlotte didn’t have a shift together. It made the shift boring, no pissed customers chasing the blonde equals no fun. You laid your head on the counter, eyes closing. It was a slow day, lucky for you, working too hard makes you tired. You sighed blissfully only to hear a loud crash and gust of wind.

You open your eyes to see half of the shop gone, mouth agape you try to make sense of what just happened.

You choked on the dust that suddenly attacked your nostrils. Your eyes gloss over making it harder to see. It was only natural that someone sneaked behind you and knocked you out.

You wake up blindfolded and gagged. It looks like you should have stayed home.

You try to move your hands and legs, tied up. Of course.

This is awkward.

You heard very heavy footsteps and muffled conversation followed by a very loud sound of door opening. It was really painful.

“Ah you caught them? Splendid! Now I have Caelus in my grasp!” someone said, a young woman you assumed. Her cackle echoed through the room.

“Take off their blindfold”

Finally after a good while of panicking and being blind, you were finally able to see where you were. It didn’t tell you much, it looked like some basement but very big and very VERY moist. Your eyes focused on the large robot and the woman that was sitting on one of its hands.

Pale skin, beautiful black hair and outfit.

You felt your heart sink as you finally understood your situation.

You were kidnapped by Raven, one of the newest villains. Someone that even Caelus had trouble with.

“Hello little toy!” she smiled before continuing. “You must be pretty confused on why you are here and the reasoning is simple; you will help me kill that poor excuse of a hero, Caelus”

You whimpered and began to struggle.

“Look how lively they are MiMi '' she patted the robot. It didn’t react but Raven didn’t seem to mind. She patted it's arm again, this time the machine lowered her on the ground. She walked happily to you and took your gag off.

“W-Why me..?”

“Because you two are a couple”

You raised a brow at her, you and Caelus? You mostly saw him on TV, and once in real life. When he saved your ass from becoming a pancake. Is this how much it takes to be with someone?

“We are not..”

“What do you mean you are not-”

Someone else ran into the room, a short man dressed like a butler. He was old, his cheeks turned red as he tried to catch his breath.

“M-Miss there was a mistake, they kidnapped the wrong person” he began breathless, scared. Terrified even.

Raven's face began to turn beet red in anger. Hand gripping the chair you were sitting on, slowly cracking. The worst part was the silence.

Raven said nothing, but boy did she look angry. The poor butler tried to explain everything, and when he finished she sent him away and when he was out of sight.She screeched loudly, you swear you felt your ears bleed. Raven looked at you and it seemed like all of her anger washed away. Good, you kinda like being alive and hey maybe she will let you go.

Raven walked to the robot, opening its chestplate. A screen appeared, she typed a few things. You didn't catch what it was, she typed too fast. Finally when she was done, she returned to you. You tried to back off as much as you could, which wasn't a lot. Your movement was very limited.

The woman smiled at you. “You are still useful, haha yeah, a poor citizen in the claws of the raven. Caelus will save you of course.” she said sweetly patting your head.

Oh boy, you are in for a ride.

In the end Raven didn't let you go and didn't let anyone know she has you. She kept you like a pet.

At first she just left you in a room, with restraints of course but when she learned to trust you, you were able to move freely. Only in your room. Then she began checking on you often, no one else was allowed to give you food, escort you to the bathroom. Only Raven, why need anyone else? After a month, or what it felt like a month, Raven moved you to her room, so now you had to spend every second with her. She studied you, watched you sleep. Not even a week passed since you moved into her room. She knew your little quirks, what you like, what you don’t. What you did and who you were before. She even bought you a collar and a leash.

You felt like a dog, and she treated you as such.

There was one time where one of her butlers tried to free you, the next day he lost his head. She made you watch it. It's for your own good she said, you are a useful asset, you know too much, she can't let you just go.

People thought she still had plans for using you, but they didn't see how much she spoils you, how she dresses you up just for her to see. How she hugs you, how her lips ghost over your neck.

They do not know what happens behind the closed doors at night.

After months, maybe years, thanks to Stockholm syndrome, you have gotten used to it. To her affection, to Raven. Only she cares, she knows you better than you yourself.

No one cares or loves you as much as her, that's why no one came for you.

What you didn't know was, people thought you were dead

[ladylooch]

Faking an orgasm with Nico?

Fake- Nico Hischier

A/N: I love these different ideas that come into my inbox! You all have great ideas and I’m honored when you trust me with them! For real tho, don’t cheat yourself out of a good time. If they aren’t hitting you with what you need, explore that with open communication!

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: SMUT 18 + Content.

The headboard slaps against the wall with each one of Nico’s sloppy thrusts into me. The bed groans with the same inflection as my boyfriend. I wrap my feet around his butt, trying to keep him deep while tightening up my inner muscles to create some friction. It doesn’t help me, but Nico moans against my mouth as he leans down to kiss me.

“I’m close.” He says through another wet moan.

I’m not, but I can tell by how this has all gone that Nico is more about himself tonight than me. And that’s fine because usually it’s the opposite. Plus I’m still having a damn good time with him. I exaggerate a needy moan to him that he matches. I tighten my breathing, producing needy gasps, until I almost believe that I’m actually orgasming.

“Yessss.” He sputters as he jerks his last few thrusts into me. 

The headboard finally silences and only Nico’s rough breathing fills the room. He shakes the hair out of his eyes, grinning down at me in blinding satisfaction. 

“Mmm, I love ya.” He muses then rolls off of me. 

“Love you.” I murmur back, arching my back to stretch out a compressed kink in my lower back.

“Come here.” He opens his arm for me to bury my face into his side. He drops a kiss to my scalp then combs his fingers through my hair in steady strokes. Now this feels incredible.

Nico’s hot, wet kisses awaken my naked body the next morning. He tastes every part of me before practice, ending our love making with a ravenous and sweet breakfast between my legs.

“So how was your night last night?” Ryleigh asks me later. We both lay flat on our backs after an hour long workout session at our apartment gym. Her and Dawson live in the same building, so we usually squeeze in a work out and lunch a few times a week while the boys are at practice.

“It was fine.” I bring my leg up, stretching out my hamstring. I sigh at how good it feels.

“Just fine? With how Nico was hanging on you when you two left?” I roll my eyes at the memory of him licking the shell of my ear obscenely in front of the team. Drunk Nico hits different when he sheds the C for the night.

“Yeah, take that eagerness and move it to the bedroom.” I chuckle, wiggling my hips in an awkward motion.

“Oooooo….” She cringes. “Sloppy?”

“Yeah.”

“He rocked your world in the end?”

“God, no.” I snort. “Could have won an Oscar with my performance though.”

Ryleigh laughs at the same time I hear the door to the gym swing open. I look up from my spot on the floor, not seeing anyone there. I bring my other leg up to stretch out.

“He more than made up for it this morning though.”

Ryleigh’s phone dings.

“Boys are back.” She says, surprised.

“Wow, must have been a quick practice.” We both gather our water bottles, phones, and headphones before heading to the elevator. When we get to our floor, we both peel off in different directions, confirming to meet up at the same time tomorrow.

“Hey!” I say brightly to Nico when I get back to our place. He gives me a strange smile from the counter where he is flipping through the mail. “You’re back early.”

“Yeah, we worked on special teams for like 15 minutes, then spent a good chunk of time in recovery. Got a lot of games coming up.” He tosses a pile of mail onto the counter, then comes to give me a stack.

“Thanks.” I pucker my lips. He pauses for a moment, studying my face, then slowly leans down to brush our lips together. “Hey, that was lame. Kiss me for real.” I wrap my hand into a first with his shirt. I hold him there until the pressure of his mouth on mine is satisfying. “Mmm, better.” I think I catch an annoyed tiff from him, but it’s so quick I’m not sure. I slide my gaze to the mail, fingering through the envelopes and deciding it’s nothing urgent. 

“I’m going to rinse off in the shower.”

“Okay.” I say to the empty room because Nico has already disappeared. I stare at the empty doorway, wondering what happened at practice that took away his cheery mood from this morning.

Nico is usually an in and out of the shower kind of guy, so I’m surprised when I look up from my book and realize its been about a half hour since he went into our bathroom. I set my book down, strolling down the hall as he is coming out of the bathroom. His hair is towel dried and he’s already dressed in new boxer briefs and pants. The wide, thick muscles of his back tense as his fingers work to button his jeans closed.

He doesn’t look up as I come behind him. I wrap my arms around his body, gliding my fingers slowly up his abdomen. He doesn’t react, just stands there silently.

“I know you just showered but maybe you and I can work up a little sweat?” I murmur, pressing my lips to his bare back. He tenses under my mouth.

“How so?”

“You touch me… I touch you… we touch some things together….” He snags a random t-shirt off the hanger, tugging it hard off the plastic.

“I think one Oscar performance from you is enough for one day. Or was it two?” He pulls away from me, leaving me confused in our closet. Then, I remember the swinging door from earlier. I close my eyes. Fuck.

I walk into the bedroom where Nico has already thrown the shirt over his shoulders, moving it down his abdomen so it rests against his jeans. He runs an exasperated hand through his hair before moving to the dresser to strap his watch back on.

“You heard me?”

“Tell someone else you faked an orgasm? Yeah I did.” His tone is gruff and he scoffs after he says it.

“Can we talk about it?”

“I think the time to talk about it was last night when you were faking it beneath me.”

“Neeks, come on.” I reach out for his forearm as he tries to walk around me. He stops next to me when my hand squeezes his skin.

“Why would you do that?” His voice is low with an obvious hurt.

“You were almost there and… I wanted you to feel good.” I shrug.

“But I want you to feel good. Every time.”

“I know. Last night was just an off night for us.”

“Did you this morning too?” A harsh line forms between his thick eyebrows.

“No. Last night was the first and last. I promise.” I run my hand up his arm to his neck. My fingers grip it, bringing his face down to mine. “This morning was amazing. You’re all I thought about during my work out.” I kiss his cheek, working my way to his mouth. The first press is against slacked lips. But then his lips slowly firm under mine to kiss me back. “I love you. I’m sorry. I should have told you I needed a little extra.”

“Yeah.” He sighs against my mouth as my fingers rub his penis over his jeans. He’s thickening with each pass.

“I can make it up to you?” I murmur as I lower to my knees.

“I think I’m supposed to make it up to you.” He says with heavy eyes.

Instead, his hand gathers my hair into a tight fist while he slides himself deep into my mouth, without another distinguishable word.

[bullet-clubs-bitch]

You scared me

Nicholas Jackson X Fem (wrestler) reader

Summary: Y/N scares Nick during her match.

Warnings: Mentions of blood steel cage death match type shit :)

Masterlist

I watched the cage lower from above, the steel shining in the arena. Tonight we would see the TBS championship being defended in a steel cage match. Normally I woudn't think much of a match like this, I was familuar with the cage and I trusted Y/n. However with Adam Copeland breaking his leg in that same cage not even a month ago had me on edge.

"Stop worring Nicky, I'll be fine" Y/n told me reassuringly as she kissed my cheek. "You know you're not supposed to be calling me that, you must call me by my god given name" "Well Nicholas, you know these kinds of matches arn't new for me. Willow and I will go out there and protect each other, you know that" "Just promise me you'll be careful, no stupid moves off the cage" "I promise I will be carefull but I don't know about the other part" Y/n told me playfully, I however did not find her joke funny. "You're out in 30" called one of the members on the production team. I gave Y/n a quick kiss before letting her get into posistion for what would be yet another history making moment in AEW.

"Jesus Christ!" Matthew called out "Did you see that!" Everyone was gathered around to watch the match from a monitor backstage, everyone wanted to see the bloody brawl that was about to take place. I couldn't watch, the sound of the steel chair cracking Y/n's skull made me sick. The blood poured out of her head leaving a puddle in the ring. "Nicholas! Are you even watching?" Matthew asked me "This is kinda hard for me to watch" I told him. "Think about all the stupid things you do that Y/n has to deal with, you should be watching!" He had a point.

I watched as Willow pulled out a large black bag that was wedged between the cage and the ring. My first thought was thumb tacks but I felt my jaw drop when Willow dumped a variety of mouse traps in the ring. "Jesus" I mumbled under my breath. I watched Willow Suplex Y/n into the traps. Some stuck to her skin while others were left with chunks of skin.

The crowd was going nuts, the women were left covered in blood, welts and bruised scattred their skin. They were proving once again that the women can do death matches. Everytime I thought it was over I was shocked by the last minute kick out. My worries had disappeared, I was on the edge of my seat wanting to see what would happen next. Just then I saw Y/n start to make her way up the steel cage and that nervous feeling returned. The arena went scilent as Y/n stood atop of the cage. They watched as Y/n took a few moments to compose herself, talking in the view and how quet everyone had become. They were showing their respect, allowing total concentration for what was about to occur. I watched Y/n execute a perfect corckscrew shooting star press (Pac's black arrow) but to my supprise Willow moved out of the way at the last second. Y/n went crashing hard into the table she had set up. Everyone was in shock with what we just witnessed. Y/n lifeless body lied in the middle of the ring as Willow went for the pin. 1...2....3...

Y/n didn't move a inch as Willow celebrated with her new title in the ring. "She's dead" called out another wrestler. "She's not dead, chill out" Matthew spat but I coudn't help think that maybe she was injured. She hadn't move at all. Medical staff tended to her as I ran towards the entrance way to make sure she was okay. They carried her backstage and I was to greet her. "What the fuck where you thinking" I asked Y/n as I held her tightly in my arms. "Owww" she called out "Sorry, Sorry but like what the fuck Y/n!" "I'm fine, don't worry about me" "You are not fine, you're going to need stitches and you just fell 15 feet to your death. You scared me Y/n!" I told her "I'm sorry I scared you" she told me "Please tell me you won't do something stupid like that again" "No promises"