#streetlit

[oklcmc]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀BILLIE JEAN ❪MASTERLIST❫࿐ ࿔*:·ﾟ [18+]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀〝⠀For FORTY DAYS and for forty nights，THE LAW was⠀⠀⠀on her side，〞

I do not permit anyone to repost nor translate any of the work that lies beneath this line break. May this also be a quick reminder to not，and I repeat⸻ do not take from my characters，plots，graphics nor formats and try to use them as inspiration to those of your own advantage without asking me for permission or rightfully crediting me first! I originally came up with these ideas myself，that including my forewarning and playlists’ formatting. I would hate for new readers to be led astray by thinking I’m stealing from someone else when that really isn’t the case at all! I will not hesitate on blocking you from my account indefinitely either. Let this be your final warning!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⁰⁰¹.⠀⟆⠀WANNA BE STARTIN’ SOMETHIN’࿐ ࿔*:·ﾟ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❪SERIES⠀╱⠀CINEMA❫

▋⠀UNDERGROUND COMBAT ❪URBAN❫

PAIRING⠀⦂⠀street fighter!black!male oc ❪keith powers❫  ✕  black!female oc ❪kelis rogers，circa ‘99❫ ⋮ㅤㅤㅤ⠀⠀⠀HAVING BEEN BIRTHED IN SEATTLE，Washington of late August with vaguely enough parental guidance，Kei Valentine had rightfully earned the persona of being spunky，straightforward，eccentric and diligent，but so had the boy whom was birthed twenty-four hours later，five years earlier and more than two⸻thousand miles apart from her. The only difference was that while Kei was discovering the positives in life though being abandoned at an early age， Tyree Devlin was raking up all the negatives before her. He was eager， callous，streetwise and rebellious as they came，thanks to the teachings of his only false God. ㅤㅤㅤFar from compatible，how the two Leos paths aligned was something that only the underbelly of New York City took to swallow，digest and keep sacred，but it wasn’t at all unattainable to one’s own access. You just had to know the correct route to take and connects to make. This is Underground Combat.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀or⠀⠀⠀in which even the innocent can wind up being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀TABLE OF CONTENTS⠀⦂

❱⠀SYNOPSIS. ❱⠀CHARACTER VISUALS. ❱⠀ACT I⠀⦂⠀〝MONEY，POWER ⅋ RESPECT.〞╱SOUNDTRACK.╱CHARACTER AES.

❱⠀CHAPTER UNO⠀⦂⠀〝HEAT WAVE.〞 ❱⠀CHAPTER DOS，PT. 1╱2⠀⦂⠀〝SING ABOUT ME，〞 ❱⠀CHAPTER DOS，PT. 2╱2⠀⦂⠀〝I’M DYING OF THIRST.〞 ❱⠀CHAPTER TRES⠀⦂⠀〝LOVE THY NEIGHBOR.〞 ❱⠀CHAPTER CUATRO⠀⦂⠀〝STOCKHOLM？〞 ❱⠀CHAPTER CINCO⠀⦂⠀〝HELL HATH NO FURY LIKE A WOMAN SCORNED.〞 ❱⠀CHAPTER SEIS，PT. 1╱2⠀⦂⠀〝HIGH RISKS，HIGH REWARDS.〞 ❱⠀CHAPTER SEIS，PT. 2╱2⠀⦂⠀〝FORTUNE FAVORS THE BOLD.〞

❱⠀ACT II⠀⦂⠀〝IMPERIAL OVERSTRETCH.〞

❱⠀CHAPTER SIETE⠀⦂⠀〝THE MARATHON.〞❪COMING SOON❫!

▋⠀IF YOU WANT ME TO STAY ❪BLAXPLOITATION╱THE GET DOWN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE❫

PAIRING⠀⦂⠀shaolin fantastic ❪shameik alti moore❫ ✕ black!female oc ❪beyoncé giselle knowles-carter，circa ‘02❫ ⋮ㅤㅤㅤ⠀⠀⠀REFLECTING ON MY YOUTH，I must’ve pitied myself. That was the only real explanation I could think of when it came down to injecting my developing mind，body and soul with any chemical compound that broke me down until I completely surpassed the feeling of numb. Numb to the fact I was being exploited more ways than one by the hands of those other than my own. Numb to the fact I endured it all just to temporarily substitute the void my mother left Roam and I in since the ages of six and ten. She manifested every aspect of the young woman I was so desperately trying to become；independent， selfless and seemed to have the answer to any question thrown her way. I grew dependent on men，selfish to my own habits and breach to every promise I vowed to keep，even those that were left lying on her deathbed. I was untouchable，Mr. Nicky Barnes，until I was repeatedly caught up in my own acts and imprisoned by the same narcotics that made me numb. The good thing about rehabilitation was that I found time to humble myself，the bad thing about rehabilitation was that it was always hard to resist temptation. My final recovery couldn't have came at a better timing. It was Summer of 1977 when I made my return to the burning borough of the Boogie Down Bronx to make amends with my only sibling，make steep career choices，fall in love with a man with just as much venom as myself，resist folding under the pressure of the crooked cops and maybe even get a hit of that sweet stuff they call Hip-Hop.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀or⠀⠀⠀in which the origin of hip-hop is told from a woman’s perspective.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀TABLE OF CONTENTS⠀⦂

❱⠀PROMOTIONAL POSTER. ❱⠀SYNOPSIS. ❱⠀CHAPTER ONE⠀⦂⠀〝BE THAT AS IT MAY.〞 ❱⠀CHAPTER TWO⠀⦂⠀〝DISCO INFERNO.〞❪COMING SOON❫!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⁰⁰¹.⠀⟆⠀BABY BE MINE࿐ ࿔*:·ﾟ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❪IMAGINES⠀╱⠀ONE⸻SHOTS❫

Beneath this divider you’ll find imagines╱one⸻shots all written by me that will more than likely consist of black insert，heterosexual and sexually explicit content. lesbian╱bisexual imagines╱one⸻shots will rarely occur in this instance. My name or the names I’ve made up will be what the original characters go by，so no〝y╱n，〞❪？✕  reader❫，but feel free to replace these names with one of your own if you so please.

❱⠀SHE’S OUT MY LIFE ❪HAMILTON ALTERNATE UNIVERSE❫

PAIRING⠀⦂⠀soft!john laurens ❪anthony ramos，circa ‘15❫ ✕ black!toxic!female oc ❪beyoncé giselle knowles⸻carter，circa ‘08❫

❱⠀IN LIVING COLOUR ❪HAMILTON ALTERNATE UNIVERSE❫

PAIRING⠀⦂⠀aaron burr，jr. ❪leslie odom，jr.❫ ✕ black!journalist!chorus substitute teacher!female oc ❪faith renée evans，circa 1995❫

❱⠀ANYWHERE ❪BMF ALTERNATE UNIVERSE❫

PAIRING⠀⦂⠀demetrius edward〝big meech〞flenory，sr. ❪demetrius edward〝lil meech〞flenory，jr.❫ ✕ black!female oc ❪cheryl renee〝salt〞james，circa 1988❫

❱⠀WALKED OUT ❪EUPHORIA ALTERNATE UNIVERSE❫

PAIRING⠀⦂⠀fezco ❪conor angus cloud hickey❫ ✕ black!dentistry undergraduate!female oc ❪taylour dominique paige❫  

❱⠀ANYTHING GOES

PAIRING⠀⦂⠀kendrick lamar duckworth，circa ‘22 ✕ black!female oc

❱⠀PLUVIOPHILE

PAIRING⠀⦂⠀bryshere y. gray ✕ black!publication editor⸻in⸻chief!female oc

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⁰⁰³.⠀⟆⠀THE GIRL IS MINE࿐ ࿔*:·ﾟ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❪HEADCANONS⠀╱⠀DRABBLES❫

❱⠀NATURE FEELS ❪BLACK PANTHER ALTERNATE UNIVERSE❫

PAIRING⠀⦂⠀n’jadaka╱erik〝killmonger〞stevens ❪michael b. jordan❫ ✕ black!female oc ❪chaka khan，circa ‘77❫

❱⠀PLAY NO GAMES

PAIRING⠀⦂⠀kendrick lamar duckworth，circa ‘17？ ✕ black!female oc ❪lorraine ward❫

❱⠀LOVE.

PAIRING⠀⦂⠀kendrick lamar duckworth，circa ‘18 ✕ black!female oc ❪lorraine ward❫

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⁰⁰⁴.⠀⟆⠀HUMAN NATURE࿐ ࿔*:·ﾟ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❪REQUESTS⠀╱⠀SUGGESTIONS❫

The requests╱suggestions section is currently unavailable for the time being，so please refrain from sending me any. I vow to inform you guys in the near future⸻ When I actually have more time on my hands⸻ On when this tab will actually be open to the general public and with more information regarding to how to earn one，so don’t fret! Just to inform you guys ahead of time，I will not be writing homosexual ❪boy ✕ boy❫ imagines╱one⸻shots╱headcannons forewarning.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀OKLCMC presents… ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀BILLIE JEAN࿐ ࿔*:·ﾟ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❪THE MASTERLIST❫

⠀⠀⠀heavily inspired by michael jackson’s ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀thriller ❪1982❫ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⓒ oklcmc，2024.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❛ BUT WHO CAN STAND ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀WHEN SHE’S⠀⠀⠀IN DEMAND ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀HER SCHEMES 𖬺͟ PLANS，❜ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀❪THE TAGLIST❫

[qbdatabase]

Erin McCabe is a criminal defense lawyer doing her best to live a quiet life in the wake of profound personal change. But when a young, Black, transgender prostitute is accused of murdering a wealthy politician's son, Erin feels duty-bound to defend her -- even if it puts her career and life in jeopardy ...

[writerspot]

Queen of the Strip

The neon lights of Las Vegas blazed against the dark desert sky, casting an eerie glow over the Strip. In the heart of this glittering playground, beneath the veneer of casinos and cabarets, a web of crime and power was spun by the most unlikely of rulers—a woman scorned and ruthless, known to all as the Queen Pin.

Lily Monroe was a striking figure, her beauty both a weapon and a shield. Born into poverty, she clawed her way up from the slums, catching the eye of Jonathan “Johnny” Monroe, a charismatic and powerful mafia boss. Johnny was smitten, teaching her the ins and outs of his empire, from the drug trades to the high-stakes poker games that kept their coffers overflowing. Together, they ruled the underworld of Las Vegas with an iron fist.

Late one evening, as they walked along the Strip, Johnny looked at her and said, “Lily, you’re the only one I trust with this. If anything happens to me, you take the reins. Promise me.”

Lily smiled softly, her eyes reflecting the neon lights. “I promise, Johnny. But nothing’s going to happen to you.”

But jealousy lurked in the shadows. Ricky “The Rat” Valenti, a petty crook with grand ambitions, envied Johnny’s success and his captivating wife. One fateful night, under the glittering lights of the Riviera Hotel, Ricky struck. A flurry of gunfire erupted, and Johnny fell, his blood staining the polished marble floors.

As Lily cradled his lifeless body, tears streaming down her face, Johnny’s last words echoed in her mind. “Take the reins.”

From the ashes of her loss, a new Lily emerged. She took the reins of Johnny’s empire, her resolve steeled by a burning desire for revenge. Word quickly spread through the underbelly of Las Vegas—Lily Monroe was not to be crossed. She became the first black queen pin in the mafia, a position earned through cunning, ruthlessness, and a scorned heart.

One night, during a meeting with her lieutenants, one of them voiced his concerns. “Lily, the men are talking. They say a woman can’t run this empire.”

Lily’s gaze turned icy. “Do they now?” She leaned forward, her voice dangerously low. “Let them talk. And when they see what happens to those who doubt me, they’ll learn to keep their mouths shut.”

Men were drawn to her beauty, mistaking it for vulnerability, only to find themselves ensnared in her deadly web. With each conquest, her power grew, and bodies dropped as easily as her suitors fell for her charms. She played the game with calculated precision, always one step ahead, her mind ever fixed on finding Ricky Valenti and making him pay.

The night Ricky was finally brought before her, bound and bloodied, Lily’s eyes blazed with a cold fire. The Strip’s neon lights flickered through the window, casting a spectral glow over her as she stood over him.

“Do you remember that night?” she asked, her voice as sharp as the blade she held. “Do you remember what you took from me?”

Ricky’s eyes, wide with fear, were locked on hers. He could only nod, his voice failing him.

Lily leaned in close, her lips brushing his ear. “Then you know what comes next.”

Ricky’s voice trembled. “Please, Lily. It was just business. I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”

“Just business?” Lily spat, her voice venomous. “You killed the only man I ever loved. This is personal.”

The silence of the room was shattered by his screams, but the world outside continued its ceaseless dance of lights and shadows. In the underworld of Las Vegas, a new legend was born—the story of Lily Monroe, the Queen Pin, whose quest for vengeance reshaped the city’s dark heart forever.

[streetlites]

99 tomorrow and 104 on Wed and Thurs. Holy shit, I'm fearing what late July and August are going to bring. Summer coming already fucking some shit up.

I'm quasi-around. I mean to catch up with my mutuals and post here and there but I've been dealing with flare-ups and newfound health bullshit that's just leaving me feeling super awful. Like I feel tired and a full night's sleep doesn't alleviate it awful and weak where it's hard to function with what I need to do normally let alone anything that takes extra effort mentally or physically.

If you've tagged me in the last month (or two now? Sheesh), I see it and I appreciate it. I'll work on some of them tonight while I'm sucking down enough coffee to vibrate an elephant because I had a nurse call out again at the last minute and that means I get to do a 24+ hour the second time this week with no nap to give me a boost. So fun.

[lilacgaby]

katsuki was red-faced and drunk as hell.

he could barely keep himself up straight, leaning against the wall of the curb that he sat on as midoriya waved to you. "thanks for coming, he wouldn't stop asking for you."

"don't talk about me like that.. damn nerd." katsuki slurred, pointing a threatening finger. in the wrong direction. midoriya laughed quietly, signaling goodbye to you as he took his leave.

"kat," you started, smiling at the pink flush of his cheeks, trying to place a coddling hand on his face but were stopped by him smacking your hand away. "what was that for?!"

"don't touch me! 'got my girl at home." he glared at you from the side, then shut his eyes and turned his face away with a small 'hmmph.'

you laughed, crossing your arms as you decided to play along. "really? but aren't i prettier?" he scoffed, red eyes not even bothering to look at you as he quipped, "fuck no. 's not even a competition. you'll be embarrassed you even-," he hiccuped, "said that shit when she gets here."

you gasp in mock offense, leaning down with a hand over your chest. "that's so rude! are you sure you don't wanna take a closer look?"

"get out of my--" his glazed eyes opened to glare at you once again, but his words got stuck in his throat as he looked you over. your streetlit features took a second to register in his mind, before a small, closed eye smile came over his face. "hey.. babe you got here." he said lowly after a moment. he grabbed one of your hands and held it up to his face, "missed 'ya. some fuckin' idiot was here earlier. so annoying."

"oh yeah? what'd they say?"

"i don't even remember." he started to fall asleep, but you hurriedly helped him up to the car first. he started sleepily muttering things to you as you buckled him in. "y'know you're the damn prettiest.. and the sweetest thing i've known.."

compared to how he was normally, he just wouldn't stop talking. not like you minded though, it was really feeding your ego to have him call you things like the most beautiful girl in the world.

as you helped him to bed, helping him change out of the clothes he'd wore in the bar first, you were cut off by him pulling you into bed beside him, caging you in his arms as he put his head on top of yours.

"stay." is all he said before he knocked out. but you did stay, not like you could've ran away from the tightened arms around you anyways.

tags. @k0z3me @darhinadadragon @maddietries @exoticrasin @lavendarstarz @hisonlyobsession @i-the-fluffo @cookielovesbook-akie @frosted-flakes @irenne-stans

[lilliezzzzz-fics]

Cupid's Chokehold !

pairing: oscar piastri x male!rockstar!reader author's note: this idea has been in my mind 4 so long lol, reader is british in this. also! first smau so it might be shit lol. songs + artists in order: garbage truck by sex bob-omb, as seen on tv by my buddy eric, the love i lost by fried by fluoride, just by radiohead, boys dont cry by the cure, so long by james marriott + cupid's chokehold / breakfast in america by gym class heroes warnings: use of y/n, callbacks/mentions to a break up, talks about toxic relationships (briefly), mentions of drinking and alcohol, homophobic comments, thats it i think word count: 2.1k (including social media parts)

ynmusic streetlite officially out, performing in local pubs soon

-

user481 LET'S FUCKING GO!!!

user481 wait WHAT THE FUCK SIR DID U GO THROUGH A BREAKUP??? WHY THE HELL IS TS SAD

↳ user044 STOP REAL like this is SOO a break up album 💔

↳ user228 ur joking im not ready to sob hello

↳ user044 damn uh how do we break this to you?

↳ user228 DONT SAY THAT

A beat-down, smoke-ridden pub wasn’t the place that Oscar expected to find himself in when Lando had invited him out to Britain. And yet, here he was—slouched at the end of a sticky bar counter, his head in his hands and muttering something about better tastes and being rich.

The lighting was uncomfortably weak, a broken neon sign buzzed in the corner of his eye, barely illuminating the peeling wallpaper surrounding him.

He glanced over to Lando, who in his opinion, looked far too comfortable—like the pub was a second home—his laugh already reeking of cheap booze.

“Mate,” Oscar sighed, shoulders sagging, “you’re actually serious about this place being good?”

At the sound of his friend's voice, Lando turned to face him, a crooked smile playing on his face. With a tilted head, and a grin like no other—he slung his arm around Oscars shoulder, pulling him into a one-armed (and one-sided) hug.

“It’s absolutely brilliant,” he drawled, already a little gone, “you’ve gotta see the performance—they’ve got a new guy singing tonight.”

Lando’s pitch wasn’t that convincing, what with his hiccuping, swaying state. Still, he stayed, muttering a dejected “alright”.

After a few moments, though, the lights in the bar dimmed, and other lights from an open area with a stage turned on. Red lights bled across the walls—glaringly bright at first—before dimming low enough for Oscar to make sense of the stage.

You stepped out in front of a small, still forming crowd, wearing a leather jacket perfectly fitted—tattoos crawling up your neck and twisting down your wrist—you looked every bit the rockstar.

The mic squealed as you leaned in, tapping it once with your finger.

“My name is Y/N,” you began—your voice rugged in just the right way, “and I’ll be performing my new album, Streetlite, for you all.”

Oscar spent the next fifteen or so minutes fully tuning out Lando’s slurred speech—eyes trained on you and only hearing the music that you played. A gritty, grunge-leaning setlist pulsed through the pub. He hated to say it, but Lando was right in making him stay.

He couldn’t deny the pang of disappointment washing over him as you took a bow, exiting off the stage, but begrudgingly he turned to look for Lando.

It seemed like his friend hadn’t paid the performance any attention—too focused on chatting to (or up, he wasn’t sure) the bartender serving him.

Oscar was too busy daydreaming to notice the sound of footsteps behind him, as well as the creak of a barstool when a man sat beside him.

“A Guinness, please.”  The man spoke, a familiar gravelly sound—one that Oscar recognized. He blinked, head twitching toward the sound.

There you were. Up close. The singer.

He whipped his head back around as quickly as he could muster, a dull feeling of dizziness following suit, then a warmth. Heat blooming at the tips of his ears—embarrassment, probably.

His brain felt like it was sizzling, and it had no reason to be. He wanted to limp away like a wounded animal in fear—because the man beside him scared him more than he should.

He’s just a man, Oscar told himself. You’re just a man too.

But when he turned to face you, cheeks flushed and heartbeat loud in his ears, that thought didn’t help much at all.

“You’re starin’ mate.” You spoke. Accent latching onto your words, and your eyes lingering elsewhere.

And when you spoke, oh Oscar would swear his heartbeat thrummed through every bone in his body. Fumbling, stuttering over his words—he apologised. Incoherent, awkward—an apology nonetheless.

“Sorry,” he croaks, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

You laugh. Rough. But it carries a warmth that Oscar keeps in his chest. 

“There’s no need, was jus’ pointing it out,” You smiled, finger tracing the rim of your glass, “name’s Y/N—not sure if you were listening but it was me performing up there.”

“I was.” Oscar affirms far too quickly—which he only realises half-way through, “ah, uhm—you could call me Oscar.”

You repeat his name, softly—letting it play on your tongue as you speak it, “Oscar. Fits you.”

A silence stretches between the two of you as Oscar scrambles for something to say. His thoughts are a mess, so he settles for a half-hearted smile, cheeks tinged pink.

Then his phone buzzes.

Fishing it out of his pocket, he squints at the screen—Lando.

Sorry m8 i left w/o u LMSO. ill pay for ur uber tho, followed by a notification: money sent.

Oscar sighs, brows knitting together. He should’ve expected it—but that doesn’t stop the pang of irritation. Of course Lando had wandered off. Drunk bastard.

He shrinks into himself a little, already dreading the awkward solo trip back to the hotel. Damn it, Lando.

“You alright?” Your voice cuts through the moment, steady and low. You lean on your palm, eyes watching him with a curious kind of calm.

He turns to you, albeit a bit irritated, “My mate just left me. He’s my guide so it’s a bit—I dunno. Shit?”

Once again he lets out an annoyed groan, dragging his hands across his face then letting it drop into his palms.

“How ‘bout I buy you a consolation drink?”  You offered, this time your tone is a little softer. Then, adding on, “Besides, I wanted to buy you one anyway—if you want one, of course.”

In any normal circumstance Oscar would know better than to accept. However, a drink does sound good. So, against his better will, he accepts.

“Sure, yeah. A drink sounds good.” He nods, and you smile.

Conversation after that flows smoothly. Short sentences exchanged about your jobs, personal experiences, about everything that came to mind. You talk about how you juggle your day jobs with your pub gigs, and Oscar furrows his brow, bringing up your songs.

“So,” he starts, eyes flickering to his glass with a slight uncertainty, “Your album—it’s kind of all over the place. Like, at first I thought it was a love album but then… it turned kind of sad.”

You don’t answer right away and Oscar internally panics. He probably shouldn’t have asked—maybe the drinks were making him just a little too loose. Should he apologise?

“Well, initially it was a love album. Somewhat, anyway,” you paused, twirling your glass, “then me and him hit a rocky spot. Realised he was kind of a shit person—and I left. It kinda fucked me though. Coped a lot through my music, and I scrapped tons of songs.”

Silence settles between you, and the ambient pub noise suddenly feels too loud—cutlery clinking, laughter echoing from across the room. Oscar watches you, quiet. Patient.

There’s something unreadable in your eyes—appreciation, maybe. Or maybe it’s just the liquor. But you give him a small smile and keep going.

“So, it’s a relationship—the album, I mean. Going through a, toxic relationship for a lack of a better word.”

He hums, nodding slowly.

“It’s good.” He speaks, treading every word carefully, “you showed it well.”

You smile in return, stealing a glance towards a watch sitting on your wrist—then looking back up at him.

“It’s getting late. I’ll head out—but uhm,” quickly, you fumble a piece of paper out of your pocket, lending a pen from the bartender, writing something down.

“Here. I’ll talk to you another time. Have a good night.”

You give Oscar a wave, and a bell chimes as you leave the pub—with Oscar looking at the paper.

Your number. As well as a message: ‘text me later <3’

♬ Y/N ∙ Garbage Truck

liked by lando and others

oscarpiastri Win in Austria. Can’t complain

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view all 31,931 comments

user481 my worlds colliding… oscar posted to Y/N’s song 

↳ user091 idk who the artist is but this music is lwky fire 🔥

user119 P1 HELL YES

user001 LETS FUCKING GOOO

user671 so he listens to gay artists now??? and i fucking liked him too

(this comment has been deleted by the author)

user782 mega job mate!

user059 THIS IS WHY UR THE GOAT!!!

ynmusic m8 i think i recognise this guy

↳ user481 HOLY SHIT THEY'RE INTERACTING STAY CALM

The engines were loud, and so was the chatter amongst people in the McLaren garage—strategies floating around and bouncing between engineers—and honestly you felt like a black sheep in a herd. You grab a headset out of the hands of an engineer with a grateful smile, and quickly put it on—and the noise grows silent.

Of course, it’s not completely quiet—that’s nearly, if not completely, impossible with so much happening. Especially in a sport like this one, or at least you assumed so.  But now, at least, it’s filtered. Contained behind the layers of comms, buzzing static, and urgent voices murmuring to each other.

A clearer voice cuts through the static and interferes the team radio, interrupting your thoughts.

“Box this lap.” He speaks. You weren't sure of his name, but you knew that he was Oscar's engineer.

“Copy.”  This time it was Oscar's voice, calm, focused—incredibly different from how he was in the pub with flushed cheeks and a boyish smile.

It was like a stranger wearing his voice when he spoke, even if it was only one word. Tone clipped, precise, and unfamiliar to you. No longer the man who was fumbling with his words, but instead the trained athlete he is.

You watch the screen, a flash of orange (or papaya, as the internet, or the team itself insisted) flying past and pulling into the pits. Slowing down as it approaches you, he stays for merely a second before he once again pulls away to the track.

If you were being honest, you really had no clue on how it worked. Sure, a few things made sense, and you knew it was racing, but you had no idea of what it were beyond the surface. But when the McLaren car passed the red Ferrari one, and a few scattered cheers erupted, you couldn’t help but smile.

The rest of the race was smooth—the car you knew to look for keeping its place in first, no need for overtaking nor intense defending. Before you knew it, it passed the finish line and the entire garage erupted in loud, echoing celebrations.

Your heart beats in your chest. Hard, heavy—for no reason at all—or a reason you’re too afraid to admit. Heading out of the garage, and towards the car, you catch a glimpse of the man himself in between the engineers.

Hair and face drenched in sweat as he takes off his balaclava, he has a smile so sweet on his face as he jumps into the the gathering of McLaren staff. Face flushed as he steps back from the crowd—and for once second, just one second, he smiles at you. 

The next moment you see him he’s on top of the podium accepting a trophy that’s well deserved. Goofy music playing in the background, the other drivers grab the champagne bottles and spray each other—you can’t help but laugh at the sight. 

Interviews take place after the champagne spray, and then, finally, you see him walk towards you. Your heart skips a beat—maybe two—and when you’re face to face you can only give him a smirk.

“So much for, I drive cars, huh?” You tease, a warmth bubbling beneath the smirk on your face.

Oscar laughs a bit sheepishly, a hand reaching up to the back of his neck, “I mean, it’s not a lie,” he gives you a tilt of his head, “but maybe ‘I drive cars fast’ works better?”

You raise a brow, “Bit of an understatement, eh?”

He smiles again—more boyish, rather than bravado—and for a moment, for just a second, he looks like the boy from the pub again, with flushed cheeks and filled with something unsaid.

And god, the urge to kiss him bubbles up in your chest like a kettle ready to boil over. You let out a heavy exhale, smiling so brightly that you have nothing to say.

But he does.

“I have a question,” he asks—suddenly more serious, and you hum, his voice barely audible over the celebrations in the background, “go on a date with me? Not a shitty pub this time. Something proper.”

There’s a pause—a brief silence, the butterflies in your stomach and fuzz in your head overpowering your ability to mutter an answer.

You let out a breath—half laugh and half exhale—and nod.

“Yeah,” you stammer, giving him a stupid grin, “I’d like that.”

♬ Y/N ∙ Cupid’s Chokehold

liked by oscarpiastri, lando and others

ynmusic cupid’s chokehold out now. dedicated to the love of my life.

tagged: oscarpiastri

-

oscarpiastri ❤

comments on this post has been limited

©lilliezzzzz-fics: please don't copy or distribute my work on any platform

credits: @/cafekitsune for the dividers <3

author's note again: sorry if this wasnt the greatest, still dont know if i like the look of the posts. hope u enjoyed it despite that! <33

[budgie2budgie]

Top 2023 highlights ✨

thank you for the tag @shesthespinstersimmer ❤️

here are some of my personal favs from 23 :)

tagging @streetlites @someone-elsa @sunnybelloria @ceechalla and @mdpthatsme !?

[treason-and-plot]

OC Deep Dive Questionnaire Tag

I was tagged by @anamoon63 and @bool-prop, thank you very much! I chose Mia because I miss her dearly and I need to zip over to Isla Paradiso and visit her ASAP!

Subject: Mia Nichols

What uncommon/common fear do they have?

Mia’s uncommon fear is another one of her lovers dying. Her common fear is that something happens to her mother, Nanette.

Do they have any pet peeves?

Cookie’s existence.

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

Her signature vanilla body spray and loose tampons and condoms 

What do they notice first in a person?

Their sex appeal.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance? 6

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?

Mia is a fighter.

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

Mia is the only child of a single mother.

What animal represents them best?

Bichon frisé- because of her fluffy hair and friendly nature (unless your name is Cookie!)

What is a smell that they dislike?

The smell of overflowing ashtrays. When she was a waitress this smell always used to make Mia dry-retch.

Have they broken any bones?

She broke a couple of ribs while out surfing with her fiancé Luke one day.

How would a stranger likely describe them?

Blonde, bubbly and chatty with legs for days.

Are they a night owl or a morning bird?

A night owl. Mia does NOT like getting out of bed early.

What is a flavor they hate and a flavor they love?

She hates the taste of aniseed and loves the taste of potatoes deep-fried in goose fat.

Do they have any hobbies?

Sex, video games, watching soap operas, going to the movies, socialising, fantasizing about her wedding to Raj.

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprises?

Mia loves surprises and would be thrilled! She detests routine and monotony. The more surprises life can throw at her, the better!

Do they like to wear jewelry?

Mia’s pride and joy was her engagement ring, which was lost during an altercation with a creep called David. Even though she still mourns its loss, it did enable her to move on from Luke’s death. But no other piece of jewellery has ever been so important to her.  

Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

Messy. Mia is self-conscious about her handwriting as well as her lack of literacy skills. She will go to any lengths to avoid her handwriting and poor spelling being seen by others.

What are two emotions they feel the most?

Excitement and desire.

Do they have a favorite fabric?

Not really, but Mia isn't into housework so any fabric she did prefer would be drip dry and non-iron.

What kind of accent do they have?

Mia was born in bred in Isla Paradiso, but it would be hard for anyone in Sim nation to discern a particular dialect or accent as coming from there.

I would like to tag @papermint-airplane @changingplumbob @windermeresimblr @streetlites and @wannabecatwriter @profoundlyburningsimscollection and @stargazer-sims. No pressure ever, feel free to ignore!

[qbdatabase]

Brickmakers by Selva Almada: Oscar Tamai and Elvio Miranda, the patriarchs of two families of brickmakers, have for years nursed a mutual hatred, but their teenage sons, Pájaro and Ángelito, somehow fell in love. Brickmakers begins as Pájaro and Marciano, Ángelito’s older brother, lie dying in the mud at the base of a Ferris wheel. ..... View the full summary and rep info on wordpress!

[igglemouse]

simblr gratitude day Part 2

Here is part 2! I just had too many mentions for 1 post!

@lollipopsimblr - @santanasimsx - @silverspringsimmer - @bridgeportbritt - @dandylion240 - @enelea - @kimbr3 - @medleymisty - @pinkmonsimblr - @pixelshary - @windslar - @yayasiimsx - @berrysweetboutique - @coliemoongaming - @mcbethstudios - @melsie-sims - @nepotisim - @omg-puddingpie - @shysimblr - @simming-in-the-rain - @simmysunset - @simssong - @thereesespiece - @thewalkingplumbob - @asimofmanyhats - @bastardtrait - @crazykissim - @dreamsongsims - @mlady-mimsy - @mellindi - @pleasanttaleswithkaityb - @satureja13 - @simsstuph - @streetlites - @tabbyrhsims4simblr - @vay2008 - @viktorviolettaenterprises - @autonomousllama - @coatedinhoney - @hannahssimblr - @hazelminesims - @miasimxo - @saartje77 - @sophi-x-sims - @twistedsimblr

Ok, I might have missed someone in this! If so, likely because you have been inactive for such a long time! Any ways, Thank you all for making tumblr worth logging on to!

[streetlites]

This man has no right to be out here making man buns look that good.

[dandylion240]

Simblr Gratitude Day

First of all I want to say a huge thank you to any and all of you who have read, liked or commented on my stories. I really appreciate any and all interaction with me and my stories. You keep me going when I feel like quitting.

At first I was uncomfortable with tagging individuals as I don't want anyone to feel left out or feel bad. I know all too well how that feels. Whether you're listed hear individually or not I want you know I appreciate seeing your sims on my dash are sorely missed when you're not there. ILY

@izayoichan - I love your story with and without pictures. Chris and Hayle have had my heart since the beginning. I love that when I have a problem I can come to you whether it be personal or simblr or writing related. Thank you for being a friend and sharing your sims with me being willing to read my stories and making suggestions that make them even better. And putting up with me when whine because your characters refuse to do what I want them to XD

@mahvaladara - for as much as a complain about Arlo and Fann I love their story. Thank you for sharing it with us and putting up with me when i disagree. Thank you for sharing your sims with me and being a part of my story world. You've only made them better!

@wannabecatwriter - thank you for sticking with me for so long. You were one of the first people to read my stories and I think we came to tumblr around the same time. Thank you for all the sims you've shared with me through the years. My stories wouldn't be the same without you.

@joannebernice - thank you for sharing your awesome stories with us and your poses. Your poses are some of my favorites. You have me on pins and needles with what's going to happen with Michaela.

@theosconfessions - ILY and your sims and for putting up with me when I disagree with their decisions. I don't know you draw me into their world and want to scream at them at the same time. I missed you when you were gone. So glad you came back!

@rebouks - love your story and poses. I love Oscar and his family and am looking forward to what happens next. You're poses are among my favorites.

@stargazer-sims - I look forward to whatever you decide to work on next. Keep being you!

@amuhav - i'm waiting patiently for the next up date....yes that's a hint. I'm practically dying from Loch withdrawal.

@simlit - you're a wonderful story teller and one day I'm going to sit down and binge read everything. Thank you for sharing. And I still love your poses and use all the time.

@treason-and-plot - what can I say....Roy he encompasses everything there is to say. I look forward to the next outrageous stunt Roy comes up with.

@holocene-sims - Grant....he deserves to be. Thank you for sharing his story.

@katmk36 @cawthorntales @cas-sims @reverieinsimlish @kimmiessimmies @bool-prop @booomcha @courtleymanor @winterspixels @dstarstories @anamoon63 @simsdastra @satureja13 @echoweaver @nikatyler @box-of-sims @simsstuph @gingerbeardmansim @streetlites @sweetpyxels @sweetdemolitionlovers @kalissimsblog @drawing-way-outside-the-lines @whyhellosims @enniewritesathing @profoundlyburningsimscollection @nocturnalazure @thatsimslove @miss-may-i @silverspringsimmer @ninjaofthepurplethings @bmit04 @medleymisty @igglemouse and so many more. I don't have time to name you all

[cautiously0ptimistic]

Ten people I'd like to know better

I was tagged by @capptrash, ty honeybun 💛

Last Song: Punish by Ethel Cain

Favorite Color: Sunflower yellow will always be my default answer, but lately, forest green has sort of been taking over my life.

Last Movie: The Crow remake with Bill Skarsgard---it was...okay. I enjoyed it, but it felt like we just got the cliff notes of the plot and they left a ton of holes. PLS FOR THE LOVE OF GOD HOLLYWOOD, GIVE ME A WELL ROUNDED NARRATIVE IN A LOVE STORY.

Last Book: Does another Dramione fanfic count? (I think the last one I read was Secrets and Masks, which devastated me so emotionally that I haven't touched another in monthsss. However, I have been starting to get the itch again lately.)

Sweet, Spicy or Savory: Sweet, ya girl got the meanest sweet tooth on the planet.

Last Thing I Googled: "Publix near me" LOL

Current Obsession: There's this tiktoker called "Tokengrass" that makes bluegrass renditions of Sleep Token songs, and he does them so much justice. He recently released four of his covers on Spotify and I've had that shit on repeat every day for weeks now. It truly speaks to the alternative southern girl in me. Please check it out, you won't be disappointed.

Looking Forward To: Moving out of my shitty apartment finally. It was my first one, and I have a lot of love for it, but it has not been kind and I'm anxiously awaiting moving on to bigger and better things.

OOF i'm so sorry if anyone's already been tagged, i'm still finding my way back on here.

TAGGING

(tryna revive some of y'all from the dead LOL) @romanticsims, @stillgotme, @ellemant, @fadingfatesimz, @streetlites, @peonysimmer, @rebel-daydream, @mireusims, @simminginstars, @flovoid, @elderwisp

[nectar-cellar]

people you'd like to get to know better

thank you for tagging me @happy-lemon i feel like i've missed a few tags lately i'm sorry!! i always see them on my phone and i mean to do them on my computer later and then i forget 😭

last song: this extended mix of rain on me by lady gaga and ariana grande has been on repeat because the original song wasn't nearly long enough. 🗣 I HEAR THE THUNDER COMING DOWN WON'T YOU RAIN ON ME ‼‼‼

favorite color: PUSSY pink

currently watching: not watching anything rn. do sims stories count as tv shows 😌

last movie: i havent sat down to watch a movie in a very long time

currently reading: last thing i read was the wikipedia summary for "my year of rest and relaxation" i was curious about reading a new book. i was not at all expecting the plot. i thought it was going to be some feel-good live love laugh story... well okay! also i went to a used bookstore several weeks ago & i have some books waiting to be opened lol *starts sweating*

Sweet/spicy/savory: savory

last thing I googled: "ask polly the cut" i wanted to read some of the ask polly advice column answers again last night 💔

current obsession: starbucks iced apple crisp oat milk shaken espresso these are so fucking good esp when they're made by GAY baristas

currently working on: i have a bunch of wip cc in my drafts and im trying to think of what to do for simblreen. also working on some random writing in my google drive.

i am nosy i want to know what youve been up to @holocene-sims @bastardtrait @pixelbots @plant-sim @sourlemonsimblr @wannabecatwriter @frostedshore @ares-in-a-jar @thegloomiestwhim @djservo @auroraeternal @streetlites @zosa95 @charmfamily

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Serializing the opening of “The Lost Cause”

On October 7–8, I'm in Milan to keynote Wired Nextfest.

My next novel is The Lost Cause, a hopeful tale of the climate emergency, which comes out on November 14. Kim Stanley Robinson called it "an unforgettable vision of what could be":

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865939/the-lost-cause

I'm currently running a Kickstarter campaign to pre-sell the audiobook, which I produced and narrated myself (for complex and awful reasons, Amazon won't carry my audiobooks, see the Kickstarter campaign page for details). You can also pre-order the ebook and hardcovers, including signed and personalized copies:

http://lost-cause.org

For the next week or so, I'm going to be serializing the prologue of the book, which gets it off to quite a spicy start. Here's part one!

I thought that I was being so smart I signed up for the over nightwhen pager duty for the solar array at Burroughs High. Solar arrays don’t do anything at night. Because it’s dark. They’re not lunar arrays.

Turns out I outsmarted myself.

My pager app went off at 1:58 a.m., making a sound that I hadn’t heard since the training session, GNAAP GNAAP GNAAP, with those low notes that loosened your bowels offset by high notes that tightened your sphincter. I slapped around my bed for my screen and found the lights and found my underwear and a tee and then the cargo pants I wore on work duty and blinked hard and rubbed my eyes until I could think clearly enough to confirm that I was dressed, had everything that I needed, and then double-­checked the pager app to make sure that I really, actually needed to go do something about the school’s solar array at, I checked, 2:07 a.m.

2:07 a.m.! Brooks, you really outsmarted yourself.

Gramps’s house had started out as a two bed/one bath, like most of the houses in Burbank, but it had been expanded with a weird addition at the back—­again, like most of the houses in Burbank—­giving it a third bedroom and a second bath. That was my room, and it had its own sliding door to the backyard, so I let myself out without waking Gramps.

It was warm enough that I didn’t need a jacket, which was good because I’d forgotten to put one on. Still, there was just enough of a nip in the air that I jogged a little to get my blood going. Burbank was quiet, just the sound of the wind in the big, mature trees that lined Fairview Street, a distant freight train whistle, a car zooming down Verdugo. My breath was louder than any of them. A dog barked at me and startled me as I turned onto Verdugo, streetlit and wide and empty, too.

Two minutes later, I was at Burroughs, using my student app to buzz myself into the school’s gate, then the side entrance, then the utility stairs, and then I jogged up the stairs. I was only supposed to get paged if the solar array had an error it couldn’t diagnose for itself, and that the manufacturer’s techs couldn’t diagnose from its camera feeds and other telemetry. Basically, never. Not at 2:00 a.m. 2:17 a.m. now. I wondered what the hell it could be. I opened the roof access door just in time to hear a glassy crashing sound, like a window breaking, and I froze.

Someone was on the roof with me. A person, glimpsed in the corner of my eye and then lost in the darkness. Too big to be a raccoon. A person. On the roof.

“Hello?” Gramps’s friends sometimes made fun of my voice. I’d hated how high-­pitched it was when I was a freshman and had dreamed of it getting deeper someday, but now I was a senior, weeks away from graduation, and I still got mistaken for a girl on gamer voice-­chats. I’d made my peace with it, except that I hadn’t entirely because I was not happy at all with how it squeaked out over that roof. “Hello?” I tried for deeper. “Someone there?” No one answered, so I took a step out onto the roof. Glass crunched under my feet. It was dark and it stayed dark when I slapped at the work-­lights switch next to the door—­they should have been tripped by the motion anyway. I found my flashlight and twisted it to wide beam and checked my feet. Smashed glass, all right, and when I swung the light around to the nearest solar bank, I saw that each panel had been methodically shattered. I took a step back toward the door, and the light beam swung up and caught the man.

He was wearing a head-­to-­toe suit—­a ghillie suit, Gramps’s friends called them—­and holding a short four-­pound sledgehammer with a handle and head painted in nonreflective black that swallowed my light beam. He was coming toward me. I reflexively hit the bodycam 911 emergency switch on my screen and it sounded its “Warning, bodycam recording” alert in a warm woman’s voice that I’d chosen for its nonthreatening tone. Mostly I bodycammed when I was having an argument with someone and the calm voice was a good balance between cooling things out and satisfying California’s two-­party consent rules for recording.

As he raised the hammer, I wished that I’d chosen the cop voice instead.

“Wait,” I said, taking a step back. The roof access door had closed behind me. “Please.”

“Shit,” the man said. He was using a voice-­shifter, either a separate unit or part of the ghillie suit. His voice was deep as a diesel engine. “Dammit, you’re just a kid.” He used the hand that wasn’t holding the hammer to flip up his nightscope goggles and peer at me. His eyes, visible in the ghillie suit’s slit, were bloodshot and wrinkled and blue. He squinted at my light and brandished the hammer. “Shit,” he said again. “Get that out of my eyes, dammit.”

“Sorry,” I squeaked, and lowered the beam, casting it around.

It seemed like 80 percent of the panels were ruined. Why had I said sorry? Force of habit. “Shit.” If he could say it, I could too.

“Shit. What the hell are you doing, man?”

“You’re recording this, kid?”

“Yes. Livestreaming.”

“Good, then I’ll explain. You just stay there and we won’t have a problem. I was gonna have to make a video when this was done, you’re just saving me the trouble.” He lowered the hammer and let it dangle. I thought about rushing him, but I’m not a fighter, and he was still holding the hammer. Same for turning and trying to get out the door before he could catch up with me.

“Kay, listen up. This world we’re in, it’s debased. America’s been rotted from the inside. First it was immigrants. You might think I’m a racist, but I’m not. It’s not immigrants I object to. It’s illegals. You want to come to America, you come in the front door, on the terms your gracious hosts here are offering. You don’t skip the line or break in through the window. That’s what a criminal does. You let in a criminal, let ’em become citizens, soon enough they’re voting for other criminals.

“You know just what I’m talking about, don’t kid yourself. The money we’re spending now? This Green New Deal? This Jobs Guarantee? These fuckin’ solar panels? Bill’s gonna come due on this. There’s no such thing as a free lunch. Chinese hoaxed us into believing in this climate garbage, then they got us to go into hock to them up to our eyeballs to buy their shiny crap, and then they’re gonna charge us interest, and our kids, and their kids, and their kids. Mortgaging their future? Shit, what future? They’re headed for debt bondage for eternity. Biblical. It’s Biblical.

“All this mumbo jumbo about ‘money users’ and ‘money creators’—­it’s just word games. There’s two kinds of people in this world, and it’s not ‘money users’ and ‘money creators’—­it’s ‘makers’ and ‘takers.’ The makers create all the wealth, the takers elect politicians who confiscate it and redistribute it.” “Redistribute” came out like another f-­bomb.

This was crazy, but it wasn’t unfamiliar. I’d heard versions of this conversation around Gramps’s place ever since I came to live with him, back when I was eight. More, I’d heard these specific words before. I pressed my recollections, tried to put a face to the words. All the faces in Gramps’s living room had a sameness, a whiteness, matching haircuts and the same Maga hats, faded and frayed. Who had said those words? I could bring the face to mind now, the rest of the face that went with those blue watery eyes peering out of the ghillie suit.

Now, the name. Mark. Not Mark. Mike. Mike! Mike, uh.

“Mike Kennedy?”

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

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/06/green-new-deal-fic/#the-first-generation-in-a-century-not-to-fear-the-future

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

[sparkiekong]

Get to know me tag

Thanks so much for the tag @rebouks

last song: Cant Fight this Feeling Reo Speedwagon - Don't @ me on this! I sleep to 80s hits and this is what got stuck in my noodle... and it's a good song.

currently watching: Quantum Leap

sweet/savory/spicy: savory

relationship: married

current obsession: Palworld

Tagging: @capptrash @cawthorntales @helenofsimblr @gingerbeardmansim @streetlites @stargazer-sims @seyvia @taanoir