#like he was just some mysterious all knowing guy

[mywhisperingwords]

everyone wants him | fred g. weasley

summary: everyone wants fred weasley, why would he want you? word count: 3.2k masterlist

The Leaky Cauldron was alive with its usual chaos—laughter, clinking glasses, and the occasional misplaced spell fizzling out before causing any real harm.

You sat tucked into the corner of the pub, nursing a Butterbeer that had long since gone lukewarm. Alicia had dragged you out tonight, claiming you needed to “live a little.” You weren’t entirely convinced, but there was something about her enthusiasm that made saying no impossible.

And then there was Fred Weasley.

You’d noticed him the second he walked in, though you’d never admit it. His presence was magnetic in a way you couldn’t quite explain, drawing attention without even trying. He laughed too loud, flashed that mischievous grin too easily, and had the audacity to look good doing it.

He was surrounded, of course. Angelina was at his side, rolling her eyes at something he’d said, but not enough to hide her smile. A couple of other faces hovered nearby���girls who leaned in a little too close, their laughter a little too eager.

You forced yourself to look away, focusing instead on Alicia, who was recounting some outrageous story involving a Niffler and a stolen bracelet.

“And then—are you even listening?”

You blinked, startled, and Alicia followed your gaze across the room. She smirked. “Ah. Fred Weasley.”

You frowned. “What about him?”

“You were practically drooling.”

“I was not.”

She laughed, leaning back in her chair. “Don’t bother denying it. Everyone looks at him like that at least once. It’s infuriating, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“How bloody charming he is.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. Infuriating was a good word for it.

It wasn’t until later in the night, after the crowd had thinned and Alicia had gone off to dance with some guy you didn’t recognize, that Fred approached you.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, already sliding into the chair across from you.

You glanced up, startled. “Uh, sure?”

His grin widened, and you felt an unwelcome flutter in your chest. “You’re Alicia’s friend, right? I’ve seen you around. I’m Fred.”

“I know who you are.”

“Do you?” He leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand. “Should I be flattered or concerned?”

You narrowed your eyes, refusing to rise to the bait. “Depends.”

“On?”

“Whether or not you’re about to use that ridiculous charm of yours to try and get in my pants.”

He laughed—a genuine, full-bodied sound that caught you off guard. “Merlin, you’re sharp, aren’t you? I like that.”

“I wasn’t trying to be likable.”

“Even better.”

You shook your head, unsure whether to be annoyed or amused. He was persistent, you’d give him that.

“So,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Why are you here, all tucked away in the corner like some kind of mysterious enigma?”

“Mysterious enigma?”

“It’s the best I could come up with on short notice. Don’t judge me.”

This time, you couldn’t stop the small smile that crept onto your face. “I didn’t want to come tonight. Alicia dragged me here.”

“Well, remind me to thank her later,” he said, his tone light but his eyes unexpectedly serious.

You hesitated, caught off guard by the shift. For a moment, you wondered if there might be more to Fred Weasley than the charming facade.

But then someone called his name—a girl, predictably—and the moment passed.

Fred glanced over his shoulder, his grin returning as he waved her off. When he turned back to you, he seemed almost reluctant.

“Duty calls,” he said, rising from his chair. “But don’t be a stranger, yeah?”

“Why would I be anything else?”

His laughter followed him as he walked away, and you were left alone, staring at your now-empty glass and wondering what, exactly, had just happened.

&

Diagon Alley was unusually quiet for a Saturday afternoon. The crisp autumn air carried the faint scent of roasted chestnuts from a nearby cart, mingling with the earthy smell of parchment and ink that clung to the shopfront of Flourish and Blotts. You had come to pick up a new quill, your old one having finally succumbed to overuse during a particularly tedious set of reports.

As you stepped out of the shop, quill and a small stack of books tucked under your arm, you nearly collided with someone coming in the opposite direction.

“Careful there,” came the familiar voice, low and teasing.

Fred Weasley.

You took a step back, startled, and looked up to find him grinning down at you. His hair was windswept, cheeks slightly flushed from the cold, and he had the same effortless energy that seemed to follow him everywhere.

“Do you make a habit of running into people, or am I just lucky?” he asked.

“Only the particularly unfortunate,” you replied, stepping aside to let him pass.

“Unfortunate?” He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Here I thought you’d be thrilled to see me.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t quite suppress the small smile tugging at your lips. “What are you doing here, anyway? Don’t tell me you’re in need of a good book.”

“I’ll have you know I’m an avid reader,” he said, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense. “In fact, I was just about to pick up a—” He paused, glancing over your stack of books. “What’s this? ‘The Art of Brewing Potent Potions’? Didn’t take you for the potion-making type.”

You shifted the books slightly, suddenly self-conscious. “I’m not. It’s for a friend.”

“Ah,” he said, nodding solemnly. “A likely story.”

“Do you ever stop talking?”

“Not if I can help it.”

Despite yourself, you laughed—a small, involuntary sound that you quickly tried to stifle. Fred noticed, of course, and his grin softened into something warmer, more genuine.

“Well, I’d hate to keep you from your important potion-related business,” he said after a moment, stepping aside to let you pass.

“Important quill-related business, actually,” you corrected, holding up the bag in your hand.

“Ah, of course. How could I forget?”

You shook your head, already turning to leave, but his voice stopped you.

“Wait,” he said, his tone shifting slightly.

You turned back, surprised to see something uncertain flicker across his face. It was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by his usual confidence, but it left you curious.

“Let me walk you back,” he said, gesturing down the street.

You hesitated, torn between instinctively brushing him off and the strange, unfamiliar pull you felt to say yes. In the end, the latter won out.

“Alright,” you said, falling into step beside him.

The walk back was filled with the kind of aimless chatter that felt oddly natural—Fred recounting some escapade involving a rogue charm and a very unhappy house-elf, you half-listening, half-watching the way his hands moved as he spoke.

When you finally reached your door, he paused, rocking back on his heels. “Well, this is me,” you said, nodding towards the entrance.

Fred nodded, his grin returning. “Good to know. I’ll keep this in mind for next time.”

“Next time?”

“Sure,” he said, already stepping away. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

And with that, he turned and walked off, leaving you standing in the doorway with a faint smile and a strange, fluttering feeling in your chest.

&

The weeks that followed your second encounter were marked by an unexpected rhythm.

Fred had a way of showing up—not at your door like expected, but in the spaces in between. He had a knack for making himself unavoidable, though never in an overbearing way. You’d catch him at the tea shop near your office, juggling two mugs precariously in his hands and grinning at you as if it were fate. Or in the park, where he’d be charming a group of kids with conjured fireworks, his laughter echoing over the treetops.

“I swear, you’re everywhere,” you said one afternoon when you bumped into him yet again outside Flourish and Blotts.

“Or maybe you’re just not very good at avoiding me,” he replied, his grin maddeningly confident.

Despite your best efforts, the barriers you’d carefully constructed began to shift, piece by piece. It started with the smallest of gestures—him carrying your books when your arms were full, sneaking you a bag of your favorite sweets when he somehow discovered your weakness for honey drops. The conversations, too, began to stretch beyond the surface, slipping into territory you weren’t entirely comfortable with but couldn’t resist exploring.

“Tell me something you’ve never told anyone,” Fred said one evening, his voice softer than usual.

You had both ended up in the same quiet corner of The Leaky Cauldron—pure coincidence, or so he claimed. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, and for once, his usual smirk was nowhere to be found.

“Why would I do that?” you asked, deflecting with a raised eyebrow.

“Because I’d like to know,” he said simply.

You hesitated, your fingers brushing the rim of your mug. The question had an intimacy to it that made you feel vulnerable, and yet, there was something about the way he looked at you—like he could see straight through the walls you kept up.

“I’m scared of not being good enough,” you blurted before you could stop yourself.

Fred blinked, surprised by your honesty, but his expression quickly softened. “Good enough for what?”

“For anything. Everything,” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” he said firmly, his gaze steady. “And for the record, I think you’re more than good enough.”

The moment lingered, delicate and raw, before you cleared your throat and changed the subject. Fred let you, but the look in his eyes stayed with you long after you’d said goodnight.

As time passed, your world seemed to orbit closer to his. He found reasons to seek you out, and you found yourself looking forward to his presence, even when you tried to convince yourself otherwise.

One evening, he brought you to his joke shop after hours, proudly showing you prototypes of new products. His enthusiasm was infectious, his face lighting up as he explained the intricacies of a new line of trick wands.

“Why do I feel like you’re trying to recruit me?” you teased as he handed you one to test.

“Because I am,” he said without hesitation. “You’d be great at it. You’ve got a good eye for details, and you don’t take my nonsense too seriously.”

“Someone has to keep you grounded.”

Fred grinned. “Exactly. That’s why you’re perfect for the job.”

You laughed, shaking your head, but something warm and unspoken passed between you.

It wasn’t long before people began to notice.

The first comment came from a colleague at work, offhand and seemingly harmless. “You and Fred Weasley seem awfully friendly,” they said, their tone laced with just enough curiosity to make you feel self-conscious.

The whispers followed soon after—barely audible at first but growing louder with each passing day. Fred’s reputation preceded him, and people were quick to remind you of it.

“Everyone knows he’s a flirt. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“He’s not exactly the relationship type.”

The words wormed their way into your mind, sowing seeds of doubt. You began to notice the way people looked at you when you were with him, their gazes heavy with judgment or pity.

Fred, oblivious to the change, continued to treat you the same—warm, attentive, and maddeningly Fred. But the whispers weighed on you, and before long, you found yourself pulling back.

The first time you ignored his owl, it felt like a betrayal. The second time, it felt like self-preservation. By the third, it had become a habit.

Fred noticed, of course, though he didn’t understand.

“Have I done something wrong?” he asked one day, cornering you outside the tea shop where he’d so often ‘accidentally’ run into you.

“No,” you lied, refusing to meet his eyes.

“You’re avoiding me.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

The hurt in his voice was almost too much to bear, but you held firm. The walls you’d rebuilt were sturdy now, bolstered by fear and the voices of those who’d warned you to stay away.

Fred watched you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before stepping back. “Alright,” he said quietly. “If that’s what you want.”

You told yourself it was. But as he walked away, the ache in your chest suggested otherwise.

The days after your confrontation with Fred dragged on, every hour stretching unbearably long. You told yourself you were doing the right thing, retreating before you got too close, before the inevitable heartbreak. But the certainty that had driven you to push him away began to waver in his absence.

You didn’t realize how much space Fred had occupied in your life until it was suddenly empty. The silence felt heavier now. Your tea breaks were lonely, lacking his easy laughter. Even the parks seemed duller without the sound of him enchanting children with his conjured fireworks.

Work became a refuge—a place where you could bury yourself in tasks and avoid thinking about him. But even there, his presence lingered. The bag of honey drops he’d given you sat unopened in your desk drawer. You’d thought about tossing it a dozen times, but your hand always hesitated, as though getting rid of it would make the loss of him too real.

It was during one of these long, quiet days that you overheard them.

“I heard she’s been seeing Fred Weasley,” someone said behind you in the tearoom.

Your stomach dropped, and you froze, pretending to stir sugar into your tea.

“She’s deluded if she thinks he’s serious about her,” another voice replied. “Fred Weasley doesn’t settle down. She’s just a bit of fun, like all the others.”

Their laughter echoed in your ears, sharp and grating. You forced yourself to walk out calmly, but their words stayed with you. By the time you got home, they’d grown into a roar in your mind, impossible to ignore.

He deserves better. Someone more exciting, more confident. Someone who isn’t scared of taking up space in his life.

The thoughts clawed at you as you sat at your desk, staring at the parchment in front of you.

You don’t belong in his world.

Your hand moved before you could stop it, the quill scratching out the words you thought would sever the tie cleanly. The letter was short, clinical, void of the emotions tearing through you.

“Fred, I think it’s best we go our separate ways. Thank you for everything. Take care.”

The owl flew off with it before you could change your mind, its silhouette disappearing into the night. The moment it was gone, the finality of it hit you like a curse.

You curled up in bed that night, the ache in your chest feeling like a physical weight. You told yourself it was for the best. But deep down, you started to think you’d made a mistake.

You waited for him to show up at your door, demanding answers in his usual larger-than-life way. But Fred didn’t come.

At first, you convinced yourself that his silence was proof that you were right—he wasn’t serious about you. But as the days turned into a week, the void he left behind became unbearable.

It was Alicia who finally forced you to confront it.

“You’ve been sulking for days,” she said, plopping down on your couch uninvited. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” you mumbled, not looking up from the book you weren’t actually reading.

Alicia snatched the book out of your hands, her sharp gaze piercing. “You don’t look like this over ‘nothing.’ Spill.”

You hesitated, but the words came spilling out anyway—the whispers, the letter, the crushing fear that you’d never be enough for someone like Fred.

When you finished, Alicia looked at you as though you’d just told her you planned to live on the moon.

“You’re an idiot,” she said bluntly.

“Thanks,” you muttered, burying your face in your hands.

“I’m serious,” Alicia said, her voice softening. “Fred isn’t like that. Not with you. Do you have any idea how he lights up when he talks about you?”

Your chest tightened at her words, but you shook your head. “He’s Fred Weasley. He lights up for everyone.”

“No,” she said firmly. “Not like this. Trust me, I’ve seen him flirt a hundred times. This isn’t flirting, love. He’s serious about you. And if you can’t see that, you’re going to regret it.”

Her words haunted you that night as you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. By the time morning came, you knew you couldn’t leave things as they were.

The shop was quiet when you arrived, the familiar smell of wood polish and faint smoke lingering in the air. You knocked hesitantly, and Fred appeared in the doorway moments later, his expression unreadable.

“Hey,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Fred stepped aside without a word, letting you in. The silence between you was suffocating, the usually lively space feeling oddly hollow.

You fidgeted with the edge of your sleeve, searching for the right words. “I—”

Fred cut you off. “Why are you here?” His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it that made your chest tighten.

“I… I wanted to explain,” you said, your throat dry.

“Explain what?” he asked, his arms crossed. “Why you decided to shut me out without a real reason?”

The hurt in his voice cracked something inside you. “I was scared,” you admitted. “Of getting hurt. Of not being enough.”

Fred stared at you for a long moment, his expression softening as he stepped closer. “Why would you think that?”

“Because everyone says—”

“To hell with what everyone says,” Fred interrupted, his voice fierce. “I don’t care what they think. The only person whose opinion matters is yours.”

You swallowed hard, your voice trembling. “I didn’t know if you were serious. About me.”

Fred reached out, taking your hands in his. “I’m as serious as it gets,” he said quietly. “But I can’t make you believe that. You have to let yourself believe it.”

The tears you’d been holding back spilled over, and Fred gently pulled you into his arms. His embrace was warm, steady, and everything you hadn’t realized you’d needed.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered against his chest.

Fred pressed a kiss to your hair, his voice soft but certain. “You’re the only one I want.”

When you finally pulled back, his hands lingered on your face, his thumbs brushing away the last of your tears. The look in his eyes was so full of warmth and determination that you felt the last of your doubts dissolve.

When he kissed you, it wasn’t just a promise—it was a beginning.

[nekrosmos]

Tell me your silliest takes on Nikolai and Price? <3 Or any headcanons you have of either of them, really.

Silly NikPrice, I can do :3c

I think Nik is a hugger even in his sleep and sometimes Price wakes up in the middle of the night because he has to piss and can't escape those massive bear arms (and Nik would try to pull him closer even as he's sleeping) and it's a silent battle that ensues, often ending in Price giving up.

When Price is being particularly grumpy or strict for some reason, Gaz likes to act mysterious and say "I know a way to calm him down" to Soap and Ghost. He never lies, however, as all it takes is for him to send a text to Nik, and for Nik to send a picture of himself in various states of undress to Price. The face John makes when he glances at his phone, only for his ears to turn all red as he fumbles an excuse that he has to go check something in his office, is something the 141 never gets tired of.

Most of the time, Nik makes the big gestures. That man is a romantic and now that he finally has John, he's gonna make him feel like he's the most beautiful man in the world. However, sometimes Price surprises him too. The smile on Nikolai's face when John gets him with something he didn't expect is worth everything to John. The love making that follows is out of this world, too.

Nik loooooooves to find ways to sneakily touch Price when he really shouldn't be doing that. Maybe they're sitting around a table negotiating important intel with shady people from Nik's side when Price suddenly feels Nik's boots against his crotch and sees him smirks at him from across the table. Asshole. Or maybe the two are undercover in a van, eying an area at night for someone they need to crab, Price's eyes glued to his binoculars when Nik's hand suddenly sneaks past his belt and boxers and starts teasing him. Even worse, the person they were waiting to retrieve finally shows up and Price has to grab a guy while almost fully hard and unsatisfied. Thanks, Nik.

Sometimes they like to slow dance together. Just the two of them, in Price's house or his quarters, whatever. They put some quiet music and just start doing it naturally. It's gentle, it's quiet, it's just them and they can finally have a moment to breath and enjoy each other's embrace. John never feels more at peace than when in Nik's arms, and Nik is happy to oblige, big hands stroking through Price's hair and staring into his blue eyes. Sometimes one of them ends up saying a very, very bad joke, and they start laughing, almost uncontrollably, more out of exhaustion than anything, and they end up falling on a nearby couch or bed and they laugh and laugh together like nothing else in this world matters but them.

Nik watching Price struggle to order food in Russian while they're in a russian speaking country. He could help him, but it's just so damn adorable to watch him fumble through his words and see John's panicked glance turn back to him when he failed to order coffee for the third time in a row. John's revenge is to speak in slang he damn well knows Nik won't understand for the rest of the day.

Every time John is cold in bed, snuggling close to Nik, it reminds him of that time when they were way, way younger and got sent off somewhere in Eastern Europe in the middle of winter, and the two had to bunker down in a shitty hotel, in a shitty bedroom that (gasp) had only one shitty bed and whose heater was broken. It had been a little bit awkward at the time, and Nik had offered to sleep on the floor, which John had refused, offering it in return, only for Nik to also shut him down. Eventually, the two had climbed into bed, backs turned to one another, until John began to shiver uncontrollably, the thin blanket not helping with the freezing temperatures. Quietly, Nik had turned around and gently wrapped his arms around John. None of them said anything, no words were exchanged, and Price quickly stopped shivering. There were no mention of this happening the day after, or the day after, not until years later when the two began their relationship and Nik admitted it had been extremely difficult to stop himself from kissing the back of Price's neck that night, or let his hands wander. Price admitted the same, and the two had laughed it off. There had been plenty of opportunities to do just that since then.

[hotvintagepoll]

Edna May Oliver (Alice in Wonderland; Murder on a Honeymoon)— we're so back it's her time to shine shes scrungly to me for her snark and unique face. i called her the womens equivalent of the weird little guy when i submitted her for the main tournament and i was so right to say that. she used it to her advantage in her comedic performances, though her comments on her looks often came across as self defacing, commenting for example that despite her musical talents she never pursued theatre or opera primarily because "[with a horse face like mine] what else can i do but play comedy" well i just think shes swell is the thing! her performances as hildegarde withers give scrungle to me not due to appearance or weirdguy swag or the standard scrungly vibes i think most people judge characters by, but from the characters delicate balancing act between "NOT made for an investigative career" and "extremely fucking good at noticing details and therefore being SUITED for investigation"  

Max Schreck (Nosferatu)—He played Count friggin' Orlok in Nosferatu (the 1922 unlicensed adaptation of Dracula)! One of the most iconically scrungly performances in cinema history, with his ratlike face, claw-like hands, and jerky, stilted body language, Schreck was so convincing that people speculated he really was a vampire, a theory that was later adapted into 2000's Shadow of the Vampire feat. modern scrungly actor Willem Dafoe as vampire!Schreck. Schreck was scrungly in other movies, too, e.g. as The Sinister Conspirator in The Finances of the Grand Duke, but Orlok is by far his most significant, well-known and easily-viewable performance, and it's such a landmark that that alone should be enough to place him as one of the top-ranked scrungly actors of all time.

This is round 2 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you're confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Edna May Oliver:

This woman's energy in literally all of her films is INSANE. Yeah she loves fiercely but boy is she also ready to kill. In A Tale of Two Cities (1935) she literally fights a woman to the death. She also played a female sleuth in the 1930s which I think is pretty fucking neat :)

EDNA MY LOVE. a character actress extraordinaire and iconic female weird little guy (actually she was tall and spindly but weird little guy is a state of mind yn). she was frequently found in 30s and 40s movies playing a spinter aunt or something of that ilk, who was not about to take anybody's nonsense and had cutting retorts to spare. she also starred in a series of murder mysteries in which she is a DELIGHT as schoolteacher turned amateur detective hildegard withers, who waltzes in does the cops' jobs better than them and wears some really great hats. she pops up a lot in adaptations of classic literature, playing lady catherine de bourgh in pride and prejudice, the nurse in romeo and juliet, the red queen in the 1933 alice in wonderland which has an insane cast loaded with vintage scrunglers, aunt trotwood in david copperfield and others, but she was equally at home in modern comedies. whoever she was playing you know she probably had some hard truths and/or sharp witticisms to drop on everybody around her with her distinctive vocal delivery, or just volumes to speak with her terrifically expressive face.

Max Schreck:

Most scrungly onscreen vampire has gotta be Count Orlock, (and the second is Willem Dafoe playing Max Shreck playing Count Orlock, so technically he takes up both the top spots)

Bizarre, fun, can’t look away - Literally blinks once

[sturn777]

Now you have me thinking about like an 80s AU where Matt’s a loser and reader works in a diner on roller skates😭

loser!matt x waitress!reader . | ( female!reader ) wc 0.3k ( 80s au ) ( masterlist ) + ( request )

lana's note : i absolutely love this idea, this is js kind of an intro . pls lmk if i should make this a series !!

matt sturniolo’s got this thing he does every friday night.

he slinks into the neon-lit diner on main street, the one that smells like grease and sugary milkshakes, and slides into the corner booth like he’s trying not to exist. same booth every time. always with the same look on his face, like someone dragged him there against his will, but there’s no one around to blame.

he orders a root beer float and doesn’t touch it. just sits there with his notebook, chewing on the end of a pen, scrawling half-formed thoughts onto lined paper.

and then there’s you.

skating past with a flash of sparkly laces and cherry-red lipstick, the queen of ray’s all-american diner. everybody knows you. the guys whistle, the girls envy, and the regulars tip extra just to see you smile. you’re pretty in that way that makes people’s heads turn, but you’ve got this thing about you. this confidence. like you know you’re the sun and they’re all just planets orbiting.

and matt?

he’s a black hole in a denim jacket.

“you gonna actually drink that this time, or you just here for the ambiance?” you ask, leaning against the counter where his root beer float sits, condensation dripping down the glass.

he blinks up at you, startled, like you’ve caught him mid-crime. “uh. yeah. maybe.”

“‘maybe’ isn’t an answer.”

he tries to say something back, but it comes out more like a nervous laugh, so he just shrugs and looks back at his notebook. “what are you even writing in there?” you press, leaning closer. his face flushes instantly, red creeping up to his ears.

“just...stuff,” he mumbles, flipping the notebook closed like you might steal his deepest, darkest secrets. “stuff, huh? sounds riveting.” you grin, leaning your elbows on the counter. “you come here every week, sit in the same spot, order the same thing, and write the same mysterious ‘stuff.’ don’t you ever get bored?”

he looks at you, finally meeting your eyes for the first time all night. his gaze is heavy, like he’s trying to solve some kind of impossible equation.

“not really,” he says. “not when you’re around.”

taglist : ( @emely9274 ; @bluestriips ; @loveparqdise ; @flouqissss ; @st4rcs ; @starwebber9 ; @conspiracy-ash ; @sweetrelieef ; @chris-hallelujah ; @leoslaboratory ; @matttsangel )

divider : @issysh3ll

[lemotmo]

Just wanted to ask you and Ali, you guys claim Lou was fired, what do you think is the reason he got fired.

Oh Nonny, you are not catching me at the right time for this question.

I have had it with the man and his evil minions. They just do not know when to quit and I've had enough of this inane nonsense.

Listen, I had a really lousy workday today. A full day of pouring energy into a job I love and getting NOTHING in return. Only to get home and to read how these sheep and their evil Overlord are once again trying to be cool and are -once again- missing by a mile! All they are succeeding at is being extremely cringy and highly embarrassing.

Anyway... I feel like our fandom has written novels by now about all the many reasons we think he got fired.

Here's a few of them though:

A plethora of racist, sexist and ableist posts found on his social media.

Giving away too much inside show information in one of his first interviews. Like the fact that it was actually supposed to be Eddie in that storyline, instead of Buck.

Creating thoroughly unprofessional Cameo videos filled with bullsh*t headcanons about how T was loving and sweet and never racist or sexist, oh no... of course not. He was just a sweet misunderstood woobie summer child.🤦‍♀️

Creating thoroughly unprofessional Cameo videos telling people BT were thriving and they would stay strong together. All of this while he KNEW from the beginning that T was only there as a plot device for a short period of time, to serve Buck's narrative.

Creating thoroughly unprofessional Cameo videos on set, effectively SPOILING some things the public wasn't supposed to know yet.

Creating thoroughly unprofessional Cameo videos and charging his disciples loads of money to hear him talk nonsense out of his *ss.

Creating thoroughly unpro... you get where I'm going with this right? But there's more. Let's see. What else? Oh yes!

Not a reason this time, but a consequence: he suddenly stopped making his thoroughly unprofessional Cameo videos from one day to the next, going completely silent on all of his social media for months. BIG RED FLAG THERE! Either his own team stepped in and told him just how unprofessional he was or ABC stepped in to make him stop being so f*cking unprofessional. It's very likely it was ABC and Tim.

Let's find some more reasons now... Oh yes. What about the fact that he obviously did not want to film any kind of intimate scene with another man? He talked about this in one of his first interviews when he was still sane. He felt that 'making out' wasn't necessary in this story or some BS like that. Well, seems like he had no trouble making out with women in other projects. Hmmm... 🤔 They didn't even touch anymore in season 8.

Oh hey, did you notice that there was no love lost at all between the main cast and Lou? There were pictures of everyone BUT him. Again.. I wonder why? Hmmm... such a mystery. Might it be because no one on the cast or crew really liked the man. After all, he was the cause of his fanbase going completely insane, running around threatening and harassing other fans, calling them homophobic, accusing people of doing terrible things by creating fake evidence, harassing the cast and crew to the point that they had to block them and the showrunner had to step in and call them out for their toxicity!

Last but not least that terribly embarassing last interview that he did. Man, I have never felt so much second-hand embarassment as when I was reading that article wannabe article. In this trash article the man praised himself for being a wonderful actor who made some really great choices in those BT scenes. How full of yourself can one possibly be? It's gross. He talked about how he didn't see the ending coming, even though in his first interviews he clearly stated he wasn't going to stick around for long. Make it make sense!🤷‍♀️ In this article he basically says that 911 and Tim did him dirty, causing Tim to have to state -in no uncertain terms- that the BT relationship is over and done with. Aka 'the final nail in the BT coffin'. Aka 'the best day of my life'.

All of his (badly executed) rethoric made sure that his minions started turning on Oliver, calling him homophobic and biphobic, accusing him of all sorts of terrible things. And what about the racism towards Ryan? Can't forget about that horror. I know I'll never forget reading those comments.

Even now, after they finally got rid off him, he is still making his toxic cameo videos spurring his loyal fiends on to keep on hoping that Tommy will return. He knows full well that he is never coming back, but as long as they keep paying him, he'll keep saying what they want to hear. But you know what? All those dumb hashtags won't change the fact that he isn't coming back.

Bottom line? He is gone. Was he fired. Probably yes. We'll never be completely certain, but it's pretty obvious they didn't part in good ways.

Everyone in this fandom is tired, exhausted and depleted of energy because of this man and his cult. We are mostly free of the toxicity now and are slowly returning to the great fandom we were before, theorising and talking about Buddie. Let's keep doing just that: moving on without looking back. Great things lie ahead for us in 8b and season 9. Let's enjoy the win!

As for Lou? I wish for him a main role in his own crappy very unsuccessful TV-show (that will get cancelled after one season). Then all of his stans will follow and we'll finally be fully free.

Well, I have to say... that was cathartic. I needed to get that off my chest. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to rant Nonny. I feel so much better already. 😋

[variousqueerthings]

watching this Paul Gross thing he did in the 80s (chasing rainbows) and ive been enjoying it despite the knowledge that there'd be some kind of a het love triangle thing going on and that the other two characters simply aren't that interesting, but. oh boy. is... is the woman in this constellation meant to be read as a villain???

(ME DOING A BREAKDOWN ABOUT A SHOW NOBODY WATCHED AND NOBODY WILL WATCH ✌)

PG character -- a working class man who is fundamentally good to everyone in trouble he meets, to the detriment of himself more often than not, but scraping by until he gets his big break (which he also works very hard for) and becomes the owner of a relatively successful nightclub

other two characters -- come from rich backgrounds and sort of suck him into their lives by the coincidence of the two men having been at the front in WWI and PG saving the other guy's life and consistently don't realise he's got way more working against him than they do

the lady in this situation initially dumping said other guy "to find herself" when he comes back from the war, which, fair, it's 1919, she's going to college, she wants to be sure she can make informed choices, chill enough

said lady imprinting on our working class heroic character, because he's working class. i just. cannot read it any other way. she clocks him as such at a party (that he was invited to as a veteran) straight away, insults him, throws water in his face when he doesn't take it, but simultaneously is into the whole idk... rugged unpolished nature of him

discovers a diary written during the war with poetry in it that she presumes was written by him -- steals the book and reads it out loud to her college friends and is offended that he's not flattered by this

despite numerous protests that he didn't write the poetry (and he didn't, it was written by a kid he tried to save who was later shot in front of him for desertion), she just doesn't believe him, because she desperately wants him to have the "hidden depths of a poet" or some nonsense. never mind his actual good traits -- his kind-heartedness, his tenacity, his savvy, his sense of humour, nonono she wants a Poet

also, she is a failed playwright. she writes terrible plays about things she doesn't understand (including the war), asks his opinion and is offended when he (under duress) admits he doesn't think they're very good

and now she fucking... copied down the poems without his knowledge and published them under his name with an article she wrote about said hidden poetic depths!!!! gets incredibly offended when he is upset about this, first of all with a "I thought you'd be pleased" then with a "you should be happy for me for getting an article I wrote published in a major newspaper!" (because at the end of the day it's about her)

he initially -- not knowing how to handle the situation -- goes along with it, because what do you do now? go to the publishers and say it wasn't you? out yourself in the news?? I mean??? but pretty quickly re-emphasises He Did Not Write Those Poems!

the plot then mysteriously seems to pivot into saying it was his fault for "stringing her along" because the "hidden poet" bit was the only thing she really liked about him... and she vehemently denies this (but girl, tell me one other thing that draws you to him, and you can't say because he's pretty!) and says he's hurt/betrayed her by lying. i just... don't know... if the plot... is writing her like this because she's meant to be a self-absorbed college girl who has her working class dream-boat fantasy get broken, or if it's meant to be presented as him having betrayed her. it is. unclear

and now she's threatening to write a new article about how he's a fraud. im just. waiting for the plot to point out that she's done all of this herself and she also won't suffer for any of it in the way he will...

this boy can do better than these rich kid tourists 😔

[mysticcollectionbee]

Just a random thought I had: I would really like to see Carmilla and Alastor interact more in the future seasons. I don't think people realize how weird it is that Carmilla put Alastor on the Board of Overlords and how interesting their business dynamic could be. Carmilla, lady of order and professionalism...Put ALASTOR in a meeting room. I get inviting him to join because respect (and probable fear of this mysterious guy who has been killing your associates deciding to kill YOU out of disrespect), but...After you realize he doesn't take anything about being an Overlord that serious why do you keep inviting him??? He'll keep coming because he might get entertainment and useful info out of it but what does Carmilla get out of him being there?

My best idea is that maybe he kinda works as a fail-safe in case somebody tries to start a physical fight or something. Alastor clearly enjoys any excuse to kill and eat people so that could work for that. And everyone in that room knows he's capable of killing them but doesn't. So they might use that evidence as to why they should respect the rules of the meeting and Carmilla, because the Radio Demon respects it.

But the last part is 90% a bluff. Alastor doesn't respect nor care about the board of Overlords whatsoever. He might have mild respect for Carmilla, because he seems to like women more than men and atleast pretends to respect her position among the overlords. But they probably dislike interacting with each other. Carmilla has to deal with him not taking anything she cares about when it comes to their profession and title seriously, his enjoyment of chaos probably getting in the way of their meeting occasionally (She probably saw or atleast later on heard from Zestial about Alastor bringing an Egg boi to the meeting), and the biggest issue for her: Deal with a person who constantly has or had KILLED YOUR ASSOCIATES and broadcasts it. Add to the fact that Alastor is probably a bit hard to predict because he can switch from goofy and charismatic radio show host to The sadistic and calculating Radio Demon very quickly.

On Alastor's side: Here's a person who thinks they're wiser than him and believes there should be order to owning souls and territory when all he seems to care about is doing what HE wants and HIS version of control on things. She's passive aggressive or atleast snarky to him as retaliation for his unprofessionalism and to keep his ego in his check. And overall, Alastor probably sees her as a stick in the mud trying to ruin his sadistic fun.

But they still respect each other while disliking each other (Kinda like how you might have a coworker who gets his work done and is useful to the group...But whose personality you can't stand) . Carmilla probably respects Alastor's power and his role in keeping the Overlords in check (I don't think she would be able to make an Board of Overlords if there were so many of them and some of them might've wanted to kill her for trying to "boss them around"). Alastor probably respects how much of a smart professional she is, her ability to lead and try to control the group she made, and her being a dutiful mother (Remember Al is canonically a mama's boy and according to old canon feels like a surrogate father or atleast responsible for Niffty in a similar way despite her age). So yeah, I need to see them interact more. I want to see their first interaction (How did Carmilla react to finding out the mysterious voice on the radio was some red deer guy who makes cannibal puns?). Has Carmilla ever tried to subtly suggest certain Overlords Alastor should target next? Would Alastor hear her out or just ignore it?

Anyways, that's my thought about it. Both of them are now kinda allies to the hotel (specifically Vaggie) so it would be nice to see them interact more.

[gifti3]

My perception of V has deteriorated immensly within one chat

[vaguely-concerned]

the barista lady in the treviso café fucking giggles every time you buy the fancy coffee lucanis likes from her btw. can't believe the game is calling out rook and me like this

[uncanny-tranny]

Shoutout to all the other adults who have acne or any other condition of the skin that you are expected to outgrow or "just deal with."

Adulthood isn't this magical time where everything just disappears, and the reality is that these skin conditions are largely genetic. It isn't your fault (nor your skin's fault) that you are an adult with different skin than other people. In fact, it's neutral (and even, dare I say, good!).

[opera-ghost]

phantom of the opera + twitter

[bacchuschucklefuck]

you get riz gukgak so well 👍👍

thank u!! he really kinda is all of my favourite character things rolled into one package (negotiation of principles/investigator-truth seeker-negotiator with reality and the narrative/obnoxious character whose narrative reward for participating in the story is getting to be even more authentically obnoxious/deeply and hauntingly aroace

[stuckwith-harry]

i am handing in my b.a. thesis (on motherhood in gothic fiction) in a few short days and though i have been complaining about having to write it for six months straight, right now i am actually feeling bereft of future opportunities to write academic papers about my silly little interests. for instance right now i really want to research & write about dracula daily & genre & the impacts of the newsletter format on the narrative (the addition of a timeloop)

i think about format and the specifics of narration a lot when i'm writing my own little things and i loooove when the narration - not just the narrator, but the act of telling the story - is part of the narrative. love when the narration is diegetic! love an epistolary novel (like dracula!) for this reason. should read more of them

inventory by carmen maria machado (short story! read it immediately!) is a GREAT example of this. the format of the narration is so integral to the story. does more than elevate it imo, i would argue the story genuinely wouldn't work any other way

g*d. i'm gonna have to become a video essayist

[arvoze]

would you like to learn about what's in my head.

[zecoritheweirdone]

first art post of the new year!!! granted, i don't share my art here that much anyway, but– shhh.

hehehehhhooo,, here's something i've been working on for 'bout a month,, albeit not consecutively– took a few,, very very long breaks in between working on this,, but i managed to finish it in the end! am i satisfied with it? .......ehhhh? not completely, but if this took any longer, it might not have seen the light of day, so like. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

anyway,, made a little poster for my favorite fic, tommyinnit's services for villains, vigilantes, and various other vagabonds, by @scorpionoesit!!! it's really really good,,, and i've always wanted to make more art for it,, so i decided– poster! at least,, that's what it's mean to resemble,,, dkdmkdmdkd.

i will freely admit,, i'm... not the biggest fan of the fan-made logo i tried to design for it,, feels a bit boring, and could definitely have used a bit more pizazz, something to make feel more like the fic itself(what does that mean? you figure that out),,,, but– again, steam was running low,, dkdnksjs. graphic design is my passion. i do also have other complaints, but i'm afraid i already punched my one-use self-critique card,, oh well,,, dkdnkxjdkd.

regardless,, even with the flaws only i can really see,, this still turned out pretty okay!! hope you enjoy it, mx. scorpio and mx. alibi!!! and i hope everyone else has a wonderful new year!!!!

[crossbackpoke-check]

tagged by ko @tofumilanesa for wip wednesday! big shout out to writevember for making me feel like i can actually call any of these works in progress… your guide to my emoji code under the cut

wip!

🪻🐈‍⬛ - the doc title is still just. YOWLING but i am like 7/8 of the way done with omega yamo fic and hopefully salem isn’t reading this so i can just drop it over a year later with no warning <3

🫃2️⃣ - DEWEY^2 P2!!!! she is almost done (i am lying) but she is so close i can almost taste it. sorry to my pwp that grew its own feelings baby

😇🤭 (🕒 -> 🕜) - rip i’m not telling you about this one until it’s posted but it IS complete aside from being ao3 formatted and the eight billion edits i inevitably do right before full-sending it

☁️💧 - cloud petey fic, which exists mostly as an embarrassingly large tag on a different blog and is condensing into a narrative about as well as water at 30° N/S. the time loop fic also falls under this description

eternally in progress (short list)

🌑🐕 - tyler borzoituzzi exists… there is an index of scenes/plot points… it plays like a movie in my head…

💯❕- fantastic! ‘verse

👁️👻 - stevie brandon seeing ghosts au, which has eight different (now nine i guess but you haven't seen the mustache adam post yet) plots. sorry

just. rotating like a microwave

🍎 - because they didn’t have a pomegranate emoji, this is what i used for the fic that feels like it should be a 50k connor bedard character study hanif abdurraqib/cathal kelly thesis about legends and mythmaking in sports and eating your young. yes i know pomegranates aren’t actually pomes and apples are but it’s fine

🦈 - the one cat da fuck they doing over there meme but about the sharks just like. in general. more on this at five

tagging @colap1nto, @songsandswords, @whitenikes, @gordiemeow, @acheronist, and anybody else who wants to share!!