#i got too excited at the prospect of recommending music

[lokh]

Im gonna need your like, whole musical rec list, bc literally every song you have posted has not flopped once, give me your faves i need to eat them

OUGHHH YOUVE UNLOCKED THE BEAST ARGSHHFHJDF....

in the interest of making this both easily accessible but not stretching the dashboard, im embedding bandcamp links when i can, otherwise linking to youtube when unavailable

in no particular order, inclusion based mostly on what im still actively into LMAO but also just things you should give a go at least once:

list of artist recommendations

zeal and ardor: described as a mix of african-american spirituals and black metal. try devil is fine, you aint coming back, wake of a nation or church burns

bloodywood: indian folk metal, literally nobody is doing it like them. recently featured in monkey man (2024), try chakh le, yaad or dana dan

stromae: if youve never heard any of his songs WHAT ARE YOU DOING..... incredible lyricist, described as a blend of hip hop/electronic. papaoutai made the rounds on tumblr a while back, but you should also try santé and l'enfer

alamat: pinoy pop. a youtube commenter described them as sounding like 2nd gen kpop which probably also explains why i took a shine to them LMAO, notable for the amount of filipino culture on display and the diversity thereof (singing in different languages, themes). first heard them thru kasmala either here or on twitter lmao, try aswang or maharani

andy bull: alt-pop. a lot of poppy and upbeat songs with a melancholic undertone imo. an australian artist, try it's all connected or keep on running

cosmo sheldrake: electronic, wikipedia also lists him as folktronica and baroque pop. you may have heard the song come along on an apple ad - hes known for sampling sounds from nature. pliocene for example features sounds from endangered ecosystems.

if you like cosmo sheldrake, you might like hidden orchestra (electronica, ambient). also making use of field recordings, i really love the archipelago mixtape but its a hard sell at about an hour lmao. if you like the following song then i implore you to give it a go

son lux: experimental, you may have heard from them in the entire soundtrack for everything everywhere all at once (!!!!!). try dangerous, dream state (brighter night) or live another life.

ammar 808: electronic/world fusion, also behind bargou 08 (folk rock you should also listen to). i just cant get ain essouda out of my head, but i also love geeta duniki

miyavi: j-rock, used to be a visual kei artist. these days he might be known more for anime openings like flashback (kokkoku) or other side (id:invaded), or for work like snakes in arcane (or actually inspiring and voicing a character in it), but ive always been partial to his early work like sukkyanen myv or ashita, genki ni naare

songs/albums

'threads' album by now, now (indie rock).

'dream to make believe' or 'what to do when you are dead' by armor for sleep (rock, emo). here's the truth about heaven from the latter album

i already posted about it but denzel curry's 13lood 1n + 13lood out mixx (rap, trap) is extremely good

the guilty gear soundtracks and im so serious im not fucking joking. different kinds of rock and metal and all sorts of influences put in, a genuine labor of love. xrd and earlier games are mainly instrumental with some vocal tracks (try give me a break or big blast sonic), while strive pretty much always includes vocals (of course i need to rec rock parade, but also try requiem. its genuinely hard for me to pick and choose lmao)

not an album and not an artist

coke studio pakistan and coke studio bangla knocking it out of the fucking park, im particularly a fan of harkalay and kotha koiyo na. you could try the other coke studios too (tamil, india, etc)

triple j like a version is when the radio station triple j brings in artists and has them do a cover of a song (artists choice). i liked denzel curry's cover of bulls on parade and flume's shooting stars (video for this one is incredible, man had a vision you just have to stick it out), but you get a lot of interesting interpretations like the wombats' running up that hill, gordi's in the end or, infamously. the wiggles' elephant

ive DEFINITELY missed out some, but thats what my music tag is for LMAO i hope someone discovers something they like here!!!!

[askinkiskarma]

ok so what about like an enemies with benefits type of thing with neteyam and they’re so mean to eachother but in the height of it all he’s holding her close and praising her. idk this probably don’t make sense

ok this took me a while, but I enjoyed doing this. hope you enjoy, too, anonnie x

Thoroughly recommend you play this for the full effect (thank you @karma-is-a-cat-purringinmylap for the flawless music taste and ability to match music to text, ily)

wc: 760 words

“If I have to use my radio to tell you off one more time, neither of you are allowed on a mission for a month, do I make myself clear?”

The voice of the Olo’eyktan pierced through the silence in his family’s tent, his angry snd stiff demeanour not one to be trifled with, even on the best day. Today wasn’t one of those days. Your last mission almost went to shit, and if you were being honest with yourself, it was all because of you.

Well. Because of you and likely the world’s most frustrating, annoying, stupid, antagonistic man the world has ever had the misfortune of hosting in its midst. You hated Neteyam. There were certain privileges that came with being the son of the chieftain, the Omatikaya prince, and he made sure to take advantage of just about every one of them. He was cocky and arrogant, and he loved to push your buttons. So many buttons, it was like one of those little machines residing behind the Toruk Makto that the Sky People used to make symbols appear on the screen, and he was proficient at pushing the right combination to make you want to commit violent acts or reckless actions that he knew would get you into trouble.

You were a warrior. Not just any warrior, you were a great warrior. So great, in fact, people were saying you were for sure the next Neytiri, bound to achieve great things, bound to be a key player in the upcoming war with the Sky People.

Neteyam was also a warrior. Not just any warrior, he was a great warrior. So great, in fact, people were already excited for the prospect of him being Olo’eyktan one day, praising his calm, collected demeanour, his incredible hunting skills that were only second to his own father, his outstanding bow work and leadership instincts.

You two have competed your whole lives. For the title of best warrior. For supremacy. For finally settling who was the better one between the two. No one else cared, no one else thought it was important who was on top, as it wasn't a competition to begin with. The more, the merrier, right? Well, that's not how it worked with you two. His pride was wounded every time you were better than him at anything, and your pride was wounded every time he acted like it was somehow unexpected that you were.

He was a better hunter, but you were a better rider. He was better at making beaded necklaces, but you were a better alchemist. He was better with a machine gun, you were better with a sniper. But perhaps the toughest call to make when it came to your competition was when you were fucking each other. You both took great pleasure in making each other come undone, and you took even greater pleasure in rubbing the other's nose in it.

"I made you come in like 20 seconds, that has to be some sort of record."

"You have got to be kidding. You forget that you could barely contain yourself when I was riding you the other day. I didn't realise you can make such pretty, girly sounds, Neteyam."

That was your life, and today, it was no different. Loud moans were slipping past your plush, reddened lips in a saccadic burst of sound that you couldn't help exhale, no matter how much you were trying to. In truth, the man was a god at fucking you. He knew you so well, he knew your body like he's spent his whole life learning it, his whole life studying it. Still, you wanted to spite him, wanted to be quiet, wanted to not seem weak to him, give him another reason to be cocky, another reason to tease and antagonise you at a drop of a hat. But as he rutted into you at a pace that made you see stars, rubbing your clit in the way that made you dizzy, kissing your neck in the way that almost made you forget you hated him, he knew you were putty under his touch, and you couldn't find it in you to care.

"Neteyam, I -"

"I know, baby. You're doing so well for me. Such a good girl on my cock. Come, pretty girl. Come for me, I want to feel you milk me dry."

You came on command at his words, at his praise, that you never thought you'd ever want, but now were wondering how you're going to live without.

[aclowntiny]

Foolproof- Seungkwan x Female!Best Friend!Reader

Shoutout to my irl first love for inspiring this…except for any getting together parts 🥲

Word Count: 3738 | Best Friends to Lovers, College AU, some Angst | Warnings: some language, my painfully obvious love for Boo Seungkwan I mean look at him he’s so cute PLEEEAAAASSSSSEEEE

It had been four years. Some would assume there was an anniversary of sorts, but if you were being honest, you didn’t even know what day it was. It didn’t really matter, just that it was early in the year four years ago that you officially met Boo Seungkwan.

You two had become fast friends, the young man introducing himself with great ease and charm, inspiring you to follow suit, and from there it took off- finding common ground was easy for you both. Seungkwan was impossible to dislike, a great singer with lots of music recommendations, the kpop ones being your favorites. He got you into more girl groups than you could count, but you started trying to infect him with your music taste, too.

There was a small student party, just an opening of a new building on campus, and you both went. That night ended up creating one of your favorite memories, the one where Seungkwan taught you how to correctly do the macarena, which you always messed up on, and it looked so funny you couldn’t help laughing as you joined him.

You started to find yourself actually feeling excited to go to class just at the mere prospect of him being there. In that section alone you would always have someone to talk to and share exasperated looks about the professor with. In a rare move, you initiated a study get-together just to get closer to him, and somehow it actually worked. The two of you were the longest ones to stay, and you ended up talking about books and movies and majors and slipping on banana peels far longer than you pored over your drafts.

You went to his performance in the music building, clapping and congratulating how amazing he did. He wasn’t expecting you to bring him a small bundle of flowers, but the way he lit up when you gave it to him was worth it.

Getting him hooked on your favorite game store was his roommates' bane, but your joy, the two of you picking out cute card games and ridiculous board games alike. It sold collectibles from your favorite franchise, which Seungkwan always threw into every birthday and Christmas gift...except for the one that referenced a comedy song you'd shown him, which you two now collectively referred to as your theme song.

Every trip you planned, despite going on very few, included each other. You guys were going to go to an amusement park, to Japan, to the beach, New York, his hometown on a Jeju trip, you name it. You and Seungkwan hadn’t gone on a one-on-one trip yet in four years, which might have been good for your heart in some ways, honestly.

Since Seungkwan lived on campus, you brought your laptop to the dorms and sat together in one of the common rooms so you could show him one of your favorite movies. You met his roommate, Jeonghan, and plenty of others. The three of you recruited Seokmin, Soonyoung, and Hansol, some classmates of theirs, for a dorm game night that became a weekly meeting. On the biggest nights there were fourteen of you there in that room, some fellow dorm-dwellers just wandering into the group, but Seungkwan stuck by you every time until the nerves of bring surrounded by strangers and established friends faded, your chest loosening up again along with your behavior. Soon, you had a large, eclectic, tight-knit group ranging from a handful of music and dance majors that already had at least perfunctory knowledge of each other to Seungkwan's advertising major roommate, a guy studying journalism, a quiet game design major, a fine arts student, and two business majors. One guy would be finishing up a painting for midterms while another had to calculate his fictional project’s cost risks, but you were all the same when Jeonghan cheated, one voice amidst a chorus of mirthful protests.

You got close to the other guys, but not like you were to Seungkwan. Both of you knew each other’s deepest secrets, all your struggles, and you even admitted you thought one of the guys in your group was cute before you realized your personalities didn’t match up like that.

Heck, Seungkwan had seen you literally at your worst, laying eyes on you in your crustiest state when he brought you ice cream after your wisdom teeth extraction. Tired, on meds, no nice clothes or makeup, probably still swollen, but for once you didn’t care. You were confident he’d see you the same no matter what. He was one of your best friends, after all. You didn't have to be fake. You felt the most yourself with him.

Not a phrase you'd have ever expected to use, but Seungkwan became your tangerine dealer. Every two weeks he'd pay a visit to home and come back with a huge box of them just for you. It got to the point where you paid him to bring some back for your family, too, your parents practically begging you to make sure you secured the citrus.

So many days that you strolled down campus lanes you longed to just reach over and take his hand in yours, having some movie moment beneath blowing autumn leaves where it just magically came together and boom, instant mutual love. But you knew firsthand life wasn’t like the movies. Heck, knowing how affectionate Seungkwan could be, he’d probably think you were just doing goofy buddy-buddy hand holding, not hey, you’re the cutest and funniest and most trustworthy person I know, please date me hand holding.

You’d gotten too many mixed signs to ensure a move like that would be foolproof.

Seungkwan asked you to dance at every event you went to that offered it. He also talked about asking a girl again that had requested him, leaving you shaken for the entire remainder of the 'college prom' despite the fact that she left before he could. You faked a smile when Seokmin invited you to dance, but it never came back the same until you and Seungkwan were in his car driving to the convenience store and chatting about your latest projects, no mention of the girl in the envy green dress.

You told him you'd never worn a suit jacket like his one night and he immediately stripped it off, handing it off to you to try.

He described his type once, saying this or that look on a girl was totally his style, and let's just say it was quite far from yours. It was almost laughable if it hadn't made you want to cry. That conversation was part of why you went through such a giving-up phase, trying to get the attention of one of the twelve other guys you hung out with to, somewhat depressingly, no avail.

But then another time he mentioned an old crush from high school, a girl you happened to have class with, and she basically had your style dialed up a notch.

You did try dating once, determined to get over Seungkwan once and for all, but when you showed up to a formal event maximally gussied and Seungkwan was the one who told you you looked nice, not your boyfriend who barely said hi to you, something in your chest just snapped. The other guy wasn't a great fit, either, and you ended up breaking it off when he picked one too many fights over your damn personality of all things. He told you to get serious once and that was the last straw because he'd had months to see your humor.

The next time your ex passed you by, shooting you two a glance across the crowded resident dining hall, Seungkwan pulled the same gag he'd hated just to show him.

One of the guys, Seungcheol, once asked about the two of you and you freaked out, denying anything and saying you guys were super duper close Just Best Friends. Later, you wondered if Seungcheol reported that to Seungkwan. But if he did, then why? How would that come up?

Why did Seungkwan seek you out for trips and hangouts and calls like that? Why were you so much less on edge with each other than you were in the one relationship each you guys tried? Why did he never do a single thing to pursue more in four freaking years? Then again, you did tell him you thought Chan was cute before you realized you couldn't keep up with his lifestyle. Too 'work hard, play hard'. You were used to someone who just wanted attention, something you were happy to give when they were as dynamic, hilarious, and deep down so caring as Seungkwan. But that was beside the point.

God, you wish you hadn't hammered in the point of your friendship so hard with Seungcheol. Had that been the moment that ruined everything? Had not confessing on that one phone call where Seungkwan went off track talking about his upcoming Lotte World trip before you could get around to it been the moment that ruined everything? Had feeling so comfortable, showing even the very inner, more damaged layers of your shell been what ruined it all? Or had there simply been nothing to ruin?

Every time you thought you were done, whether you thought you could be happy with someone or he could and that meant case closed or even that you could put everything you felt in a box and take his smile just as a testament to your friendship, something would happen to make you question what was really going on inside his head or make your heart beat a mile a minute. Even something as simple as going on a thirty-minute drive, eyes scanning Seungkwan's side profile as he talked, feeling a great urge to just kiss him right then and there.

Moving on would get harder, you assumed, when others started to learn. It hadn't exactly been intentional, at least not on your part, but one day you had met Minghao, the arts major from your chaotic game group, for lunch and he'd brought up Seungkwan, one of the biggest connections you two had. Ok, that was fine, just a normal conversation, until that is he dropped a bomb in the form of a very choice phrase.

"If you did that, he would be so happy he'd kiss you," Minghao had joked, eyes rolling a bit as his naturally infectious smile widened.

Your very natural, instinctual, practically biological at this point, reaction to any jokes about you and Seungkwan that anyone made was a deeply transparent glare your eyes melted into before your brain even computed it. Indeed, you felt it before you considered it, but by the time you willed your face to return to normal Minghao was staring at you with raised eyebrows.

"Oh."

"What?"

"You, uh, have feelings for him, don't you?"

"Maybe I was grossed out by your joke," you feigned, pointing accusingly at Minghao with your chopsticks.

Those darn eyes of him were like swords stabbing straight into your soul. "Were you?"

"No," you broke down, melting into a stream of sweet, sad, funny, and everything in between words of your messy failed love and how bad you wanted closure, but not if it came at the cost of losing or disconcerting one of the closest people in your life.

Soon you were sobbing, Minghao sliding out of his bench seat and into a spot at your side, where he pulled you close. You felt tears soak into the chilled fabric of his scarf, but he didn't seem to mind, silently rubbing circles into your back for a few moments before he gently spoke.

"Seungkwan talks about you all the time, you know. I think even if he couldn't return those feelings, it would take a lot worse for him to stop being your friend. He doesn't cut people off easily, you know that."

"I do," you agreed, "he hates it when people do that."

"Then why do you think he'd do it to you, the person he so clearly wants at everything you can be?"

"I-" You inhaled shakily. "I don't know. I've been rejected a lot. I even asked one of the guys out and he turned it into a group hangout."

"Is that why we went bowling instead of-"

"Yes," you muttered into his scarf.

"I really think you need to talk to Seungkwan."

"About everything?" Peeling your face back out of the scarf, you felt a chill breeze lap at the tears drying on your cheeks. "Why?"

"If nothing else because he's standing like twenty feet away giving me a really weird look I've only seen him give Chan, and that has only been since Bowling Night."

"Oh, God, does he think-"

"I don't know, but here," Minghao replied, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket. Leave it to him to have a beautifully embroidered ruby handkerchief in his pocket instead of a pack of Kleenex crushed beneath everything else in his backpack like every other college student.

"Thanks. Wish me luck."

"I don't believe in luck."

"Gee," you drew another shaky breath, rising unsteadily to your feet, "thanks."

"I believe in fate," Minghao smiled.

Art majors. You felt your eyes squinting in a half-glare before willing your defensive brain to be kind. Dabbing at your eyes, you attempted a wobbly smile, nodding and giving him one last thanks before wandering miserably over to Seungkwan. You couldn't help but crack a smile and chuckle at the way he cocked his head on you, the sound of mirth cracking into a sob because you hadn't fully exited cry-mode.

"Whoa, what's wrong? Or was that good crying? Did Minghao just confess? I gotta say, you and Minghao. Quite the surprise, I kind of would have seen you going for Seokmin or Soonyoung since they're funny and go better with-"

At all that, the floodgates opened again and you just strode off, sobbing. He was practically throwing you at all the other guys. You got it. Maybe that was the closure you needed, though if it was, why did it have to sting like ice piercing your lungs?

You always knew it would, though, if it came to it.

"(y/n), wait! Whoa!" Jogging to catch up with you, Seungkwan physically stopped you from walking, grabbing you by the shoulders and making you face him before he pulled you into a hug. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. What did Minghao say to you?"

"Nothing."

Seungkwan's face hardened in a way you'd never seen before, not even when the guys teased him in the ways he hated the most. "Did he hurt you? I love Minghao, but I swear if he said anything that ruined your day I'll punch his lights out."

"No," you shook your head, "no, please. We were just talking about something he thought I should do is all."

"Ok, so he didn't reject you and you're not dating? Good. Great first step."

Shoving the arts student in question's handkerchief back in your pocket, you raised an eyebrow. "Good?"

"Well, er, I mean, that is... you... you can date Minghao. Like, if you want to. I was surprised, but it's not a bad thing, like he's a good guy and all, just really quiet for someone who screams her head off during improv games and takes approximately point five seconds to initiate whipped cream fights."

Another shaky laugh, this time not quite fading into sobs. "Yeah, no. I don't want to date Minghao."

"Good. Great."

There they were again, those little things that got your hopes up. How well Seungkwan knew you, how deeply he was aware on whatever level that you two went together like peanut butter and jelly, how he could always make you laugh, how he seemed freaking glad you weren't getting yourself into a relationship. But if he wanted one, why didn't he say anything?

"Why do you keep saying that?" You burst out.

"What?"

"Good, great, all that," you turn slightly away from him.

He reaches over and straightens the collar of your jacket, yet another of the little caring motions you'd fallen in love with. A small way he touched you when he didn't have to. When his hands fell away, though, his jaw set, eyes fluttering closed as if in pain, like your words were a slap.

"I- I'm sorry, (y/n)."

"You don't have to be sorry," you sigh, "I just...wanted to know what that meant, I guess."

He blinked. "I know I'm one of your best friends and that's all you see me as- heck, I'm probably like a brother to you- but I admit I have a hard time with the idea of you going out with someone who isn't me. My mom told me I needed to realize I was in love with you when I apparently 'constantly talked about only you forever'," he began, making air quotes as he imitated Mrs. Boo, "but ever since I did I can't help but see the guys as threats. Especially Chan, because, well you know. I know what they say, though: you have to let them go. So whoever it is, as long as they're good, I just want to see you smile forever. Even if that's not Minghao or any of the guys. I care about you so much, (y/n), and when you said you wanted to be friends forever it touched my heart because I want the same. I really, really do. Maybe I didn't want to say that all for so long because it would have made it real, you know?" He asked with an awkward chuckle.

Holy shit. This time, your brain overrode your face, preventing a smile in favor of a shout. "I KNEW IT!" You exclaimed. "I knew saying that to Seungcheol was a bad idea! I didn't trust him with my feelings for you because he'd spill, but then why would my dumb ass trust him with a lie? Oh my God, I'm going to kill him. I thought I wasn't your type, so I just... it just seemed easier to hide them. Oh, my God!"

Seungcheol was a scapegoat for all the nights you'd spent cursing yourself, calling yourself stupid for not moving on when you'd gotten this or that sign, for believing this or that sign to the contrary, for hanging onto every last shred of hope that that extra-long hug might have meant something.

"Your feelings?" Seungkwan questioned, hands still on your shoulders as his head returned to its studying tilt. "I thought we were doing mine."

It sounded like a cry for attention, but you knew Seungkwan too well for that. Your face fell, and panicking he cupped your chin and pulled you up, only to see you shaking your head and half-sardonically, half-deliriously, laughing. What the heck were you guys doing? None of this felt real. He'd only processed one thing, and that was getting his confession out there. "I think our feelings might be the same," you reiterated.

"What do you..." Head un-tilted. Eyes wide. Grin increasing. "You were lying?"

"That's the first time I've seen you so happy about filthy deceit before."

"Hey, you told me you weren't going to use that phrase anymore," he pouted. Yep, even in the middle of all that, he was sensitive to the memes he'd made in the group. That was Boo Seungkwan for you, presentations class ace and funniest non-comedian you'd ever met.

"Sorry, it was too funny, Jeonghan loved when you said it then and he still does. Just like me to you," you added, trying to get him back on topic. You were not about to have another Lotte World Phone Call Debacle.

"You love me?" The hand that was under your chin slid to your cheek.

You nodded. "I can't believe it wasn't obvious by, well, everything. When I look at you I can feel the change in my eyes. They have to look different when they fall on yours versus anyone else. They feel twice their size and like they must have that anime shine in them."

"That's...one of the sweetest things I've ever heard."

"Well," you give your first full, genuine smile since bursting into tears on Minghao, "it's true. You make me feel like my fullest self. That's why I always seek you out. I'm scared to sing in front of people, but with you I'll belt out whatever we play. You know things about me my own parents don't even know, and that's because you've given me nothing but reason to trust and value you like you have me."

"Wow," Seungkwan sighed, sniffing, "I...I can't believe I got so lucky, I just..."

The moment he trailed off, you took a hold of his cheek, too. "Hey, whoa now, don't you start crying too, I'll do it again."

"And we don't want that."

You'd cried countless times over your feelings toward Seungkwan for almost exactly four years, though there was no anniversary. You hadn't known how important that day in class would become to you, despite how many times you'd thanked it now. Typed out paragraph upon paragraph about how no one else makes you feel quite as yourself, quite as at home, as the man from Jeju who loved hosting game nights at every opportunity. The man who would never look at a girl like you. You'd tearfully imagined how he'd reject you, how he'd accept you, if your confession would burst out during your first fight like in a movie, if you could ever have that moment in the autumn light you'd always imagined.

Well, it wasn't autumn, in fact it was a cold January day you'd more than shivered through on the lanes between each building, those falling leaves long died away and crumbled into the dirt. The trees looked like sticks, your cute outfits hid under your coats, and sometimes your nose ran. Surely it was right now after all your eyes had done. But somehow, as you looked at Seungkwan, all of that was more beautiful than every red and gold that could have drifted on the wind.

"No, we don't, do we?"

Seungkwan leaned a little bit closer. "I know we're both, like, totally crying, but I think it's safe to say we both know what we do want?"

Tears on tears cancelled out. Mingled, even, like debts paid.

[nochuelinha]

Too Sweet - Chapter 7: Whiskey Neat

The days leading up to Sara's wedding flew by, and now we were on the day of her bachelorette party. Her apartment was filled with a vibrant atmosphere of anticipation as we helped her get ready. Ellie and I had planned a special night out at a club to celebrate the end of her single life.

As Sara got ready, the atmosphere was filled with laughter and excitement. She was radiant, and her happiness was contagious. As we helped with the final touches to her look, we shared memories and fun moments we had shared together over the years. It was amazing to see our friend about to take this important step in her life.

When Sara was ready, we headed out together towards the club, eager for the night ahead. The place was buzzing, with colorful lights and pulsating music. Sara was warmly welcomed by her friends, and the party started with an emotional toast to friendship and love.

The night was a true celebration, and Sara shone like the star of the evening. Ellie had invited Dina, who was a lovely addition to the group. Her positive energy and contagious smile added even more joy to the celebration. Amidst laughter, lively conversations, and plenty of drinks, the mood was one of pure relaxation and fun.

Ellie was at the bar with Dina, her smile contagious as she noticed my glances. She raised the glass of whisky in her hand in a friendly gesture, inviting me to join them. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of joy and camaraderie, and I instantly felt welcomed by her warm hospitality.

With a smile on my face, I approached the bar and joined Ellie and Dina. The atmosphere was lively and full of energy, and I felt grateful to be part of that special night. Ellie greeted me with a warm hug, expressing how happy she was that I had joined them.

"Hi, sweetie, are you having fun?" her voice was sweet and gentle, I nestled into her embrace and replied yes. "You look very beautiful today," she whispered in my ear.

"You look beautiful too," I whispered back, feeling a pleasant warmth spread over me. Her compliment made me feel special and loved, and I cherished every moment with her.

"You two are so cute together, like opposites attract," Dina commented, taking a sip of her colorful drink.

As I ordered another sweet drink, I smiled at Ellie and Dina, and the question about Jesse slipped from my lips. Ellie wrapped her arm around my waist as we sat on the bar stools.

"How are things with Jesse?" I asked, looking at Dina with curiosity.

Dina smiled, her eyes shining with love and enthusiasm. "They're going really well, thanks for asking," she replied. "Actually, we're planning to move in together soon. Do you know any realtors?"

My heart filled with joy upon hearing Dina's good news. "That's wonderful!" I exclaimed, genuinely happy for her. "I'm so happy for you both. And as for the realtor, I can look into it and give you some recommendations soon."

As we danced on the dance floor, the early hours of the morning quickly approached. Sara, already quite lively and somewhat intoxicated, laughed and played without a care in the world. Ellie held me close to her, and I could feel the comforting warmth of her embrace.

"I think this bachelorette party was really great, don't you?" Ellie commented as she held me close to her. I buried my head in her neck and agreed with her. She smelled of something sweet and pure whiskey. "Do you want to spend the night at my place?"

"It would be great to spend the night at your place," I replied, appreciating the idea of continuing this memorable night alongside Ellie. The prospect of more laughter, conversations, and shared moments filled me with joy, and I knew this would be a night to remember.

The cool night breeze caressed our faces as Ellie held my hand, guiding us out of the club. Under the starlight, we waited for the taxi to arrive, enveloped in a comforting embrace.

Our hearts still pulsated with the energy of the party, and I felt grateful to have Ellie by my side, sharing this special experience. Her touch was comforting, and I allowed myself to sink even deeper into her embrace as we waited.

As the taxi approached, Ellie opened the door, and together we settled into the back seat. The warmth of the vehicle contrasted with the nighttime breeze, but Ellie's embrace continued to keep me warm.

As the taxi traversed the quiet streets of the city, I felt at peace, enveloped in Ellie's company. It didn't matter where we were going; I knew we would be together, ready to continue this night of celebration and camaraderie.

Inside the elevator, the atmosphere was calm and intimate, contrasting with the hustle and bustle of the night outside. With a soft sigh, I leaned against the mirror, watching diffuse reflections dancing to the rhythm of the floor numbers.

Ellie stood in front of me, and I gently lifted my head to look at her from a better angle. She was slightly taller than me, but that only made the sight even more comforting. Her eyes met mine, radiating warmth and camaraderie, and for a moment, I felt a wave of gratitude for having her by my side.

She held my face gently, I closed my eyes and felt her lips on mine, it was soft and warm, with a slightly bitter taste due to the drinks, but it was so good to kiss her. The initial softness of the kiss gave way to an overwhelming intensity, a fire that burned between us, fueled by passion and desire. My hands roamed her neck and got lost in her hair, while hers explored my body, leaving a trail of heat wherever they went.

Each touch was electrifying, each caress a flame that consumed us, enveloping us in a frenzy of emotion and desire. We were immersed in a whirlwind of sensations, completely surrendering to the intensity of the moment. The heat between us was palpable, a burning energy that enveloped us and consumed us, leaving us breathless and wanting more. Each moment was a dance of passion and lust, a unique and overwhelming experience that united us in a deep and unforgettable way.

Our bodies moved in harmony, as if dancing an intimate and passionate dance. And in the midst of this whirlwind of sensations, I knew I was exactly where I belonged, in Ellie's arms, lost in a sea of heat and desire that only she could awaken in me. The heat between us continued to grow as the elevator doors opened, and Ellie let go of me for a moment, leaving me with a feverish body of desire. As soon as we entered her apartment, she wasted no time and attacked my lips with overwhelming passion.

Everything became a delicious mess of kisses and scattered pieces of clothing throughout the rooms. Our hands eagerly explored each other's contours, as we completely surrendered to the intensity of the moment. Ellie was so soft and smooth to the touch, each caress sending shivers of pleasure coursing through my body. Every kiss was an explosion of sensations, proof of the overwhelming desire that consumed us.

"I'm going to make you melt under my fingers," Ellie's sensual tone sent a shiver of excitement through my entire body, and I felt pulsating with anticipation as she quickly turned me over on the bed, making me lie on my stomach. Her movements were agile and confident, and I completely surrendered to her leadership. I felt her delicate hand sliding my panties to the side, exposing my sensitive skin.

A moan escaped my lips as her long fingers touched me, exploring me with a skill that left me breathless. Each touch was an explosion of pleasure, each movement making me moan and writhe with desire. I lost myself in the sensation of ecstasy as she delved into me, completely filling me and taking me to the brink of pleasure. Under Ellie's dominion, I felt like a work of art being molded by talented hands, surrendering to the heat and intensity of the moment. Each movement was an expression of unrestrained passion, a tribute to the overwhelming desire that consumed us.

And as she brought me to the brink of ecstasy, I completely surrendered to pleasure, lost in a whirlwind of sensations that only she could awaken in me. It was a moment of pure surrender and lust, an experience I would never forget. I gave myself entirely to Ellie, allowing her to take me to ecstasy as many times as she wanted. Every moment was an explosion of pleasure, and I found myself delirious in her presence, lost in a whirlwind of intense sensations.

Our naked bodies moved in perfect harmony, a dance of passion and desire that completely enveloped us. Every touch of her skillful hands was like an electric shock of pleasure, sending waves of ecstasy throughout my being.

Her warm breath on my skin only intensified the sensation of closeness and intimacy between us. I felt connected to her in a deep and primal way, completely surrendering to the lust and desire that consumed us. Every touch from Ellie was like an explosion of pleasure that ran through my entire body, leaving me craving for more. I felt her hungry lips on my most sensitive part, and my fingers desperately gripped the sheets as I surrendered to the ecstasy she provided. Her skillful tongue explored every inch of me, sending waves of pleasure through every fiber of my being. While her fingers skillfully penetrated me, her mouth worked in sync to bring me to the edge of pleasure. I saw stars blinking before my eyes, completely overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensation that enveloped me. Every movement of hers was a symphony of pleasure, a masterpiece of lust and desire that left me longing for more.

"Come for me, sweetie," Ellie's words echoed in my mind, sending a wave of excitement throughout my body. Her movements intensified, bringing me even closer to the brink of absolute pleasure. I moaned her name as a plea, an expression of the overwhelming desire burning within me.

I allowed myself to be carried away by the overwhelming sensation that enveloped me, completely surrendering to the imminent explosion of ecstasy. Then, like an avalanche of pleasure, climax hit me with overwhelming intensity, leaving me breathless and trembling with pleasure. Every fiber of my being was flooded by a wave of indescribable sensations, leading me to a state of pure and absolute ecstasy.

"Even your taste is sweet, darling. I'll trade my favorite drink for you; you're my new favorite flavor."

[susandsnell]

Sorry this is kind of a broad question, feel free to break it into more specific subgenres or mediums, but what are some of ur favorite scifi horror works? Are there any themes or setpieces in particular that ur always excited to see even if the rest of the work is underwhelming? Did u ever watch battlestar galactica?

Don't ever apologize, and thanks so much for sending this!!! Gosh, there are just too many sci-fi horror works to count, so I'll call this a highlights reel that will invariably forget some gems. Cronenberg's entire body (heh) of work, special mention to The Fly (favourite!!!) and Videodrome. The Alien movies are absolutely wonderful, and I'll include classic Frankenstein (and Bride, of course!) for the hell of it. Ex Machina was a delightfully straightforward sci-fi Bluebeard so I think it counts, while the first Terminator really has some great slasher beats. I also adore the Reanimator movies (though I acknowledge the very major misogynistic flaws). Starship Troopers is also in the 'flawed but fun' category. I remember really liking The Blob and The Invisible Man as a weird kiddo, and of course, Metropolis I think? has enough elements? to qualify? Either way, counting it. Godzilla movies, even when they get sillier, are also just the apex of the genre in terms of what it represents and reflects on, taking the 'fi' out of 'sci-fi', but in turn, emphasizing the horror in the sci. And to nod to King, Maximum Overdrive is delightfully bonkers. And while the aliens themselves were a letdown, the tripods in Spielberg's War of the Worlds and the updating of the story as a response to 9/11 were not only genius, but very vividly stick out in my memory as one of the first movies that truly scared the absolute shit out of me. And I do remember liking some earlier episodes of Black Mirror that focused on being scary rather than...whatever they're up to now. And as for sci-fi horror musicals -- Rocky Horror Show, Little Shop of Horrors, and Be More Chill all have a very special place in my heart.

It's hard to pick setpieces and themes too!! I suppose it's easier to just say anything that presents and explores the anxieties and fears present in a particular concept or possibility (the more concrete the possibility in our reality, the better) executes the purpose of the subgenre. Which is a very generic statement reading it over, so I'll also say that beyond the horrors of our possibilities, the horrors of what is within our understanding and how this understanding may be warped or put to terrible use is always a delicious prospect. Or perhaps the natural scientific processes themselves are the horrors; again, abjection of the body fascinates me, similar to the werewolves, but perhaps more intellectualized here. I can't think of any recurring setpieces that keep me watching even if the rest of the work is underwhelming, so I must unfortunately give another very generic answer -- an excellent practical effect, set, and/or soundtrack will keep me hooked. I tried to watch Battlestar Galactica when I was consuming sci-fi for breakfast, lunch and dinner back in high school, but I never got very deep into it! I'm afraid it didn't jive with my attention span. Is there something horrific in it you'd recommend? Thanks so much for this, and I hope you have a lovely weekend. <3333

[goongiveusnothing]

Did DWD even do well in the end. I know his fans want to convince themselves that it did. But it didn't even manage to get 100M at the box office while Smile managed to get 200M without starring any superstars like Flo Pugh or Harry. And Im assuming that Olivia didn't get her backend deal.

It did okay, but certainly not what you'd expect from someone who is meant to have his own Eternals MCU because they thought he'd be such a draw he could get, what, like over a billion dollars himself into the movie theater?

I feel like if MP had come out first it would've made at least like $10-20 million (I think it made less than a mill at the box office), and then when DWD came out after it, it would've made a lot less than $80m. Because DWD was still a novelty when it came out, his fans were still excited about the prospect of seeing him in a movie theater, that's why they all went out, it was an event for them.

But when they got that, they stopped caring. Because he doesn't deliver.

Something else noticeable is I've had that My Policeman behind the scenes Youtube thing recommended to me a few times and it only has a few hundred thousand views. That's behind the scenes footage of Harry Styles in his big gay but not gay movie and the fans haven't even all rushed out to watch it? In the olden golden days that video would have 10 million views.

IDK very curious how his next album will be received. His Pleasing drop was met with crickets. Late Night Talking, anyone know her? Music For a Sushi Restaurant didn't even have a moment. He still has that weird circus flying song too. I feel like we're gonna witness this effect of his fans becoming over satiated and bored by him by his next albums figures not doing as well as his last and that sort of normalising until he becomes accepted as a B list kind of entertainer, where he just has a few hits and does some sign reading at his shows, but he's not gonna go down as a legend or anything and his fans will just grow up and move on.

[greatrunner]

I watched Black Adam last night with my Mom. My lil sister recommended I give it a try a couple months ago, but I wasn't too keen on resubbing to HBO Max any time soon (also, I was broke). Happened upon it by accident on said lil sister's Amazon Prime account, and just decided to give a looksee.

As a Rock enthusiast (still), she had quite the time watching it front-to-back. She even got excited over the prospect of Superman vs. Black Adam (lmao).

All things considered, I had a lot of fun watching it. I honestly think this might be my favorite iteration of the Justice Society. It was a bunch of actors I wouldn't have picked for the team, but their chemistry worked. Cyclone's hair doing a Chaka Khan when she powers up gave me a good giggle (even with the very obvious CGI, I thought her power-up effect was nice). I didn't even mind the guy Netflix kept trying to make a thing as Atom Smasher.

Aldis Hodge and Pierce Brosnan definitely had the best dynamic as Carter Hall and Dr. Fate (Kent Nelson). My sister was like, "Clearly those two were boyfriends or something" (and I was like, "clearly they're ride or die bros"). I'd honestly want to see this group again in another film.

There's a lot about Black Adam as a character that I don't like. A lot of the building blocks around the character feel dated (or anachronistic) with its depiction of what I can only describe as "Vaguely Middle East location with actors and characters styled visually to invoke said vibes". It was hard to ignore that shit in a game like Injustice 2. If this movie came out in the 90s no one would really question it.

It's something better suited to a Roland Emmerich movie, or something. And someone clearly, really enjoyed The Crow, but that's all I thought about whenever I saw the kid on the skateboard listening to Smashing Pumpkins. (The music choices in this movie were odd all 'round if we're being honest.)

It wants to do what Blue Beetle ends up doing with its storyline via Carapax (School of the Americas, genocide) and Palmera City (gentrification, dislocation of communities), but with the story couched in a completely fictional space, there's no real heat behind folks in kahndaq criticizing the Justice Society for barging in like the US Military (or Cops, really) and declaring themselves "heroes" and Black Adam a "villain". It doesn't help that most of the baddies in the film are off-color Brits or someone distant enough from the US that the commentary really doesn't land where it needs to.

I like the idea behind backstory behind Black Adam. Again, it felt Roland-esque, but as far as superhero origins go, it would chew. I definitely feel like we got the short end of the stick by having the movie focus on the vengeful father instead of the his son (Hurut).

Like, you've got this kid, who like other kid in Shazam!, is given the power to stop the literal oppression of his people. He does it, only to find his family slaughtered. It's not that Vengeful Dad is necessarily a bad idea (or that it doesn't work for the film), but I think there might've been more weight behind the son becoming vengeful (or not) and imprisoned instead.

If I had one complaint about the movie, it's that it didn't need ugly CGI red guy as an antagonist. Black Adam was doing enough antagonizing for everybody to carry the whole movie and keep it personal. The family that defends Black Adam also really doesn't get much out of the story. They're just his cheerleaders.

The Rock, as far as his performance goes, isn't doing anything new. He knows how to play an asshole, when to play to comedic bits, and when to tone it down. He had an otherwise workable dynamic with the rest of the cast, but nothing the film used to its advantage. There's the implication that he doesn't have proper control over his powers, or doesn't want to control his powers, but the film barely investigates that. And I wish they had done more with that.

[aquamarinescarlet]

The Psychology of Us

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word count: ~3.5k

Warnings: mentions of smut (nothing explicit)

Summary: It seems like you’ll never get the answers you want, but little did you know…

Author’s note: This is probably my favorite story yet. It got a little steamier than I originally planned, but I think it turned out okay. I hope the explanation makes sense, it’s something I do use in real life so I thought it’d be fun to write about. Anyhow, thank you for everyone who read, and have fun with the last part :D

Taglist: @helloalycia @gingerbreadcookieforlife @xastrydx @trikruismybitch @b0mbdotc0m @ima-gi--na-tion @cristin-rjd @arealearp @1-800-maximoff @zarriaza329

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

“I know, I know, I’ll be at your place at seven.” You said to Angie as soon as she reached you.

The hallway was packed, yet you were still able to notice her presence.

“About that,” she sounded unsure, “I came to tell you about this small gathering Pietro is doing at his place tonight, and I was wondering if you’d come with me?”

“So I can be a third wheel? No thank you.”

“He will have other friends over too, don’t worry.”

“Then why can’t you go by yourself?”

“Because I don’t know any of them and I don’t want to be there all by myself.” She reasoned.

“Just stick by Pietro and you’ll be fine.”

“Please!” She pleaded, giving you her best puppy eyes.

You weren’t opposed to the idea of going to Pietro’s house, a small gathering would be a nice change of pace from your usual Friday night parties. But your mind was in a different place right now and a party wasn’t exactly on your plans. You couldn’t say no to her though, maybe you could sneak out early, who knows.

“Fine, I’ll go.” You gave in.

She cheered, hugging you eagerly, and walked away before you could change your mind.

It was Friday again and you were still stuck on the girl and her puzzle. You’d seen her seven more times in the past two weeks. Now you had compulsively read eight books in the span of one month. Eight books all due to her, it was more than Diego reads in the same time.

Even your family was starting to question this sudden new hobby. Aalways keeping yourself locked in your room or with your nose deep down into a different book wasn’t normal.

Despite that, you were no closer to solving the mystery that was the girl from the library. She refused to give you her name when you asked her for it. She refused to explain the logic behind her recommendations. She just had fun watching you drown in frustration.

You were close to giving up, to start avoiding her until you forgot completely about the whole situation. But you enjoyed these moments. You were excited at the prospect of seeing her, not that you’d ever admit it out loud.

Of course, all this excitment died down the moment she started to mock you for nothing, with that annoying smirk painting those perfect stupid lips of hers, growing your desire to wipe it off of her.

There was something, though, that caught your attention, something about the books she recommended. You enjoyed them, you savoured every story, every plot, every character. Diego always tried to get you to read some of his favourite books and you gave up after a few pages. But not these ones, you liked them, and you had to figure out what kind of spell she used to make you like them so much.

“I think I’m going insane.” You muttered while staring at the ‘map’ you had created on your bedroom wall.

It contained post-its, notes, the title of all eight books and the answers that earned you each recommendation. A pathetic attempt to find a connection between this whole thing.

“You are getting too worked up on this, I mean, look at your wall,” Diego, who had been hanging out with you this afternoon, gestured towards it, “it looks like something right out of a detective movie.”

“It’s not that bad,” you said exasperatedly, “I just need to figure this out.”

“Okay, two things,” he put up both his index and middle finger, “first: it is that bad, it’s just a bunch of books; and second: why are you so desperate to figure this out?”

“I’m not desperate,” you argued.

“Yes, you are.” You heard him mumble.

“And aren’t you even a little bit curious?”

“Not that curious.”

“I just want to prove her wrong,” you explained.

“Because you care about what she thinks?” He seemed genuinely confused.

“No, I-”

“Look,” he interrupted, “I know you. I’ve known you for a long time. You have never been one to care about what other people think of you. So why her?”

“I-,” you were at a loss for words.

Why did you care? It bothered when she insulted you, even though you knew it wasn’t true, and you’ve never been bothered by such things before. It bothered that she knew nothing about you and still had the nerve to deem herself better than you, even though this was all the more reason to not care about her opinion at all.

Was it really a bother though? Or was that just an excuse? And if it is an excuse, then what were you excusing? Why were you still doing this? You’ve been dragging this out for a month. Why were you so keen on proving her wrong after all this time?

You don’t need to prove to her that you’re smart: you get good grades, you’re the captain of the football team, you even have a scholarship in one of the best colleges in the area. Of course she doesn’t know any of this, but that’s not enough motivation for you to spend a month trying to prove her she’s wrong about you.

For all you know that crazy scheme of hers to recommend books could be fake. She could just recommend books she likes and hide the reasons behind those questions. But then why did you enjoy those stories? And why would she put up a whole facade to recommend some books to a random stranger she met in a library?

“Do you like her?” Diego’s voice brought you out of your own thoughts.

The look you gave him was one of disbelief. You almost wanted to laugh at his words.

“Like her? How can I like someone who pisses me off so much?”

“Then why do you keep going back?”

“Why I- because- I- I’m curious.” You didn’t sound as confident as you wished. It wasn’t a lie. You were curious. But curiosity was not the only reason you kept going back, although you couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was.

“I don’t believe you.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t know how to answer. Thankfully you didn’t have to when, with a quick glance at the clock, you were able to change the subject.

“We’re late.” You simply stated.

“For what?”

“I told Angie I was going to meet her at her place at seven,” you gestured towards the time, “it’s seven thirty.”

“I didn’t agree to this.”

“C’mon, please,” you pleaded, “it’s going to be a small, like, get together or something, and I know Angie will leave me alone at some point to makeout with her boyfriend.”

“Okay fine,” he gave in and you made a little celebratory dance, dragging him out of the house.

Since this was supposed to be casual and between friends, you didn’t waste any time at Angie’s, where you���d usually spend hours getting dressed and ready.

Pietro’s place wasn’t far, which you were slightly thankful for since Angie wouldn’t stop talking about him the whole ride. He’s such a good kisser. He’s so cute. Did you know he plays soccer? He looks so hot in his uniform… You love your friend, but that’s just too much.

As always you weren’t the first one’s, and by the amount of people it was far from a “small gathering between friends”. The apartment wasn’t small, but sure felt like it with the almost fifty people crammed in there.

You were greeted by Pietro himself, who offered you each a beer before pulling Angie in for a kiss, causing you and Diego to roll your eyes. You gladly took the beer, if you had to endure this, might as well have some alcohol to help.

Two beers later and your mind was no longer fixating on the girl-from-the-library problem. Instead you were having a friendly debate with some of Pietro’s friends about which college was the best, the typical rivalry. Having only Angie to back you up was making the whole thing harder.

“Hey Piet,” a tall blonde boy called out, interrupting the conversation, “is Wanda going to join us?”

“Doubtful, you know how she is…”

“Who’s Wanda?” Angie’s voice was laced with jealousy causing the boy to laugh dramatically, which only seemed to make her madder.

“She’s my sister, don’t worry,” he reassured her. It made sense, he had mentioned he lived with his twin sister.

You watched as he pulled Angie away from the group, probably to makeout, as you had predicted, and you looked at Diego, to stop him from commenting anything, only to find his place empty.

You left the group as well to search for him, and was surprised to find him shoving his tongue down some girl’s throat. You could’ve left them alone? Yes, you could. But did you? Of course not.

“Y’know,” you tapped on his shoulder, earning his attention, “when I bring you to a party so I can have someone when Angie left me, I expect you not to leave me as well.” You teased.

“Shut up.” He tried to sound serious, but the smirk gave it away.

“You owe me one.”

Feeling a sudden need to go to the bathroom, you let them be and went in search of one. You opened a door you thought led to a bathroom, but found yourself in a corridor which had other four doors that probably led to bedrooms, at least one must lead to a bathroom.

“Pietro, I already told you, keep that door closed!” You heard someone scream from one of them.

It wasn’t just anyone though. That was a voice that had been haunting you for a whole month now. Okay, haunting was an exaggeration, but still. You quickly closed the door, muffling the music and chatter.

As you rested your back against the wall, a surge of power took over you. The new information taking over all your thoughts. You had the upper hand now on this little game of hers. It was your turn to play.

Her door was easy to identify, being the only one with light seeping through the cracks, and you made no effort to be quiet or discreet when opening it.

She was sitting in her bed, long red hair loose over her shoulders, a book in hands. Her expression was soft despite the interruption, she hadn’t looked up, so she had no idea it was you who was standing there.

“What do you want Piet?” A mischievous smirk grew on your face.

“Wanda,” you uttered as if trying it on your tongue for the first time, earning the girl’s attention.

The shock that took over her features did wonders to your confidence.

“A beautiful name,” you continued, daring to take a few steps inside her room, “I see you favourite color is red,” you referred to the endless amount of details on her walls, shelves, bedsheets, all a different shade of red.

You walked further into the room, exploring everything in sight. She followed your every move with her eyes, too stunned to say anything. Were you crossing a line? Probably. Should you be invading her personal space like that, without a warning? Probably not. But she has been invading your personal space for weeks, so you couldn’t care less.

“Ah, you play the guitar,” you grazed your fingers over the instrument sitting on the corner of the room, “I didn’t think you had any talents other than insulting me for no reason.”

You were enjoying this too much. Your eyes landed on some pictures and notes clinging to a wall.

“Sokovia,” you said after reading one of the notes, “so you are Sokovian, that’s interesting.” Your gaze fell to her desk, a pile of textbooks stacked there. “Psychology,” you laughed, not because it was funny, but because it was going to piss her off even further, “you are more likely to drive your patients crazy than to actually help them.”

“How…,” you turned towards her, “did you…,”

“Get in here? Learn your name?” You offered some suggestions since she didn’t seem capable of finishing that sentence herself. “Pietro.” You simply stated and watched as her face went from stunned to mad.

“How do you know my brother?”

Was that jealousy you were sensing? Or was she just upset that he had told you stuff about her? You decided to play with it a little bit.

“He is a sweet boy isn’t he? So hot and so nice,” you teased and she advanced towards you, making you a little frightened, but not enough to back down, “it’s hard to believe you two share the same genes.”

Your face was mere inches from hers and you suddenly felt like the air was growing thick, making it hard to breathe. A feeling of warmth taking over your chest and stomach. In spite of all the discomfort, you managed to keep your composure.

“I so want to wipe that pretentious smirk off of your face right now,” she growled. Oh, how the tables have turned.

“Why don’t you?” You challenged.

Football had given you fast reflexes (except for that particular event a few weeks ago), you were ready to catch her hand if she tried anything. Instead of her fist or her palm, you were met with her lips attacking yours furiously.

The kiss was needy, hungry, desperate even. Your hands made their way to her waist, pulling her impossibly closer. It was a battle, a fight neither of you were willing to lose. Tongues fighting for dominance, teeth biting lips, jaw, neck, hands pulling on skin in such a way it would definitely leave marks.

Clothes fell to the floor as you backed her to her bed, pushing her onto the mattress, this feeling, a necessity for her, on the pit of your stomach growing ever more.

Safe to say your plans of leaving early were postponed. At some point during the night you had managed to find Diego and let him know you wouldn’t be needing a ride back home. Your disheveled state and red marks, which were already showing up on your neck, didn’t go unnoticed by him, but he didn’t have time to comment on it. You mentally dreaded the moment he would start with the questioning.

Some shifting on the bed caught your attention. Slowly opening your eyes, you were able to catch Wanda staring at you with a soft smile. Your back was facing her, so she didn’t know you were awake, but you could see her clearly from her bedroom mirror.

And what a sight it was.

“You’re staring.” You called out, and watched her face turn three shades redder out of embarrassment from being caught.

You turned around so you’re now facing her, although she wouldn’t meet your gaze.

“What’s on your mind?” She kept quiet. “Okay, wanna know what’s on my mind?” She nodded lightly. “Well, I’m thinking that I would have never, not in a million years, pegged you as being shy.” She tried to stifle a laugh while bringing her hand up to playfully hit you on the arm. “That’s more like it,” you teased.

“I’m not shy,” she defended.

“Then why won’t you look at me?”

“Because… “ she lost it mid sentence.

“... you’re shy and sweet, just like your brother said,” you recalled from the day you spent together in the arcade.

She hit you, yet again, on the arm, slightly harder this time, but not enough to hurt.

“Tell me this then,” you finally reached the topic that has been bugging you for weeks, “what was all this for? The mystery, the games?”

She fell silent, seemingly in deep thought and you got scared you had killed the moment.

“Okay, so maybe I’m a little shy,” she admitted and you celebrated internally while your face remained unfazed, “and that makes me scared of…”

“Talking to people?” You helped out, but she covered her face with her hands in embarrassment.

“Please, don’t laugh at me, I know it’s stupid-”

“It’s not,” you interrupted, uncovering her face, “go on.”

She took a deep breath before continuing.

“I’m scared of talking to people… especially people that I like.” Although it sounded like a confession, you weren’t exactly sure what it was about.

“So you liked me?” You asked in disbelief. “From the beginning?”

Her already red face was growing darker by the second.

“I had seen you before, with Diego, in the library, always complaining, always stating how boring it was,” she shook her hands in the air for the purpose of drama, “and it was annoying, but it was also cute and- and I always wanted to talk to you, but I never found courage to do it.”

To say you were shocked at the new information was an understatement. She liked you all this time? And you just thought she hated your guts for no reason? Wow, that’s precious.

“Okay, so…” you tried to say in the stunned state you found yourself, “how- why- the- why did you do all that then?”

“Because I had like, this sudden flow of confidence, and since you had this cocky personality I thought you would like someone who was the same, so I said what I said, and I did what I did and-”

“I started to hate you.” The way you acted when you first met must’ve hurt her.

“Exactly, and I thought I had screwed up completely, until you showed up again, and my stupid brain associated that to the idea that the way I had acted worked. So I kept it up. A persona, in a sense.”

“What were you planning to do then? Keep that act up forever?” The question made her slightly frustrated.

“I don’t know, I didn’t think that far, I just enjoyed your presence, even though you still seemed to hate my guts.” You laughed and moved closer to her, wrapping your arms around her waist.

“I did,” you whispered close to her ear, “I hated your guts, but I also enjoyed it, the games, the mystery, that’s why I kept coming back.”

“So it worked,” she said excitedly.

“It sort of did.” You stared into her green eyes, for a few seconds. “There’s something else in my mind too that I’ve been meaning to ask.”

“Ask away.”

“So… about the recommendations-”

“Oh my god,” she didn’t let you finish, “you haven’t figured that out yet?!” She exclaimed in disbelief, when she opened her mouth again you knew what was coming.

“Don’t say it.” You warned.

“You really are slow.” She said it anyways, a mischievous grin painting her lips.

“Damn, I hate you,” you said jokingly, unwrapping yourself from her and making a move to leave the bed.

She stopped you short, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and pulling you back, causing you to fall on the bed laughing hysterically.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I won’t say it anymore.”

She let you go and sat up and across from you.

“Good, so are you going to explain it to me or not?” You questioned and she rolled her eyes playfully. “And don’t you dare tell me there is no logic behind it, there has to be one.”

“Yes, there is a logic,” she mocked, “it’s quite simple actually, the ‘color’ is what sets the mood for the book.”

“How so?”

“Uhm, like, we associate colors with stuff, like black is associated with death and evil and white is associated with peace and purity,” you nodded, “it also works for feelings, associating those with colors, so when a person says a color I can pick a book that has elements that are associated with that color, or that causes a feeling that we associate with that color.” She explained.

“That explains the psychology major thing.” She seemed happy you remembered, even though it was mere hours ago.

“Basically,” she agreed, “so, ‘person’ is what defines the relationships that surround the main character, so either romances, friendships, families, strangers, y’know?”

“Yeah okay,” you tried to follow along.

“And ‘place’ is to decide how far from reality the story should be, if the person says a place that’s close to their home, they tend to prefer stuff closer to their comfort zone, so no fantasy or sci-fi, and vice-versa.”

“That’s it?”

“Yep,” she beamed a smile, “simple isn’t it?”

“Does it always work?”

“No, it’s a really subjective thing, the more I know the person the better, but sometimes it just doesn’t work.” She admitted. “It worked on you like a charm though,” she teased.

“That it did,” you couldn't deny. “Okay, so if I got it right, color sets the mood, right?”

“Right.”

“Then what is red associated with?” You looked around her room, filled with several details in red.

“Anger, love, passion-,” she stopped talking when she met your eyes, a mischievous smirk on your lips.

You slowly rose from your position and crawled forward, never losing her gaze. You quirked an eyebrow suggestively as you got closer. You sat on her lap, faces inches from another.

“Well, I can show you some passion.”

[katyasrussianaccent]

you're so golden (corpse x reader)

Summary: You're a faceless youtuber that sings cover songs. What happens when a certain faceless streamer slides into your DMs after you cover one of his songs?

Author's Note: Don't hate me! This was gonna be a cute chapter but then I decided against that. Credit to @moontwinkles for the spilling scene idea. Let me know what you think!

Masterlist

The sound of your alarm wakes you from your slumber with a suddenness. Bleary-eyed, you roll over to turn it off, letting out a small sigh as your body and brain start to awaken. You’re going to meet Corpse. You’re going to meet Corpse. It bares repeating in your mind; the prospect still not quite registering.

You haven’t had the greatest sleep, your mind racing most of the night; skittish little thoughts that had you tapping your toes on the mattress in agitation as you struggled to turn them off. Sunlight streams through the cracks in your blinds, a warm glow painted in stripes on your wall. It was going to be a good day, tiredness be damned.

You get up, stretching your arms out as wide as possible and relishing in the relief as your muscles unclench themselves. There’s a little spring in your step as you walk to the bathroom, to wash your face and brush your teeth. You aren’t nervous as you pick out your favourite outfit, instead you feel excited. It’s funny how little scraps of fabric and thread can impact your mood so much, but you smile at your reflection, the feeling of confidence is nice, albeit rare.

The rumbling in your stomach signals that you need to eat something before you leave. Nothing too fancy, just some toast and a glass of juice. You can feel the nerves start to grow a little, the food sits heavy on your tongue, forcing you to swallow it. You grab your phone, scrolling as you chew. You go onto Corpse’s twitter, smiling at the picture he’s posted.

Out of curiosity, you go onto his likes. You always find his likes interesting; the random things he’s added gives you more of an insight to his thoughts and feelings. You chew the inside of your cheek as you scroll down past girls with perfect skin and bodies; your previous confidence now feels a little misplaced.

Deciding against letting it ruin your mood, you close the tab and go to grab your bag before locking your door and heading to your car. You text Rae to let her know you’re leaving and she replies almost immediately to wish you luck. Sitting in front of the steering wheel, you exhale as you start the engine and begin to drive. This was really happening. When Corpse had asked to meet, you were shocked. While you had discussed it, you had been under the assumption it would be a while before it happened. You just hope you don’t make an idiot of yourself; a tendency you had when you were nervous.

While you love the city, there’s something about driving on the open road. No noise, just the sound of tires on concrete. The scenery remains the same; nothing but trees and the occasional house far in the horizon. You’re meeting him in Santa Barbara; a place you’ve been to once in your life, so it might as well be brand new. It’s halfway between both of you, and while it’s still a few hours drive, you’ve got good music and some sunshine to keep you happy.

The drive flies in and before you know it, you’ve arrived. You’re meeting at a cafe that sells bubble tea; it was Corpse’s recommendation. It’s a charming little place, with white table and chairs on a cobbled patio area. The building itself is white brick, plant pots decorate the window sills and there’s a small crowd of people waiting in line. You turn off the engine, and grab the perfume out your bag, the smell of peaches invading your nostrils. With one last look at yourself, you exit your car and make your way to the cafe.

You’re not sure how you’ll find him, being faceless and all. A quick scan of the people around you, your eyes zero in on a figure dressed all in black, leaning against a wall that’s slightly in the shade. There’s butterflies in your stomach as you look at him from afar, your feet apparently unable to move on their own accord. He stands out amongst the brightly coloured outfits of everyone else, and you can see the sun glint against the chains on his jeans.

“Hi,” you greet, your hand going up to half-wave at him. He’s handsome; pale skin and cheekbones that disappear under the fabric of his mask. A mop of black curls are atop his head, falling out in different directions, and he brushes one off his forehead as he looks at you.

“Hey,” he replies and you smile a little. There’s a thick fog of awkwardness between you as you both take each other in, though trying not to look so obvious about it. You feel under scrutiny as his eyes move over you, and you meet his gaze before you both look down at the ground, a faint blush on your cheeks.

“How was the drive?,” you ask at the same time he does, causing you both to laugh. “Oh. Uh yeah it was good, thanks, how was yours?”

“Yeah it was good,” he replies, his eyes still on the ground.

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

You scream internally as your eyes dart around, looking for something, anything to break this awkwardness. It shouldn’t be like this, you have such great chemistry on the phone and online, but there’s nothing right now. Is it you? There’s a niggling in your brain that says he was fine until now; until he saw you.

“We could go, uh, into the cafe? Get some food?” he suggests, breaking you from your self deprecating thoughts. You nod and you follow him to the door. He opens it and you dodge out the way as it narrowly escapes hitting you in the face. Corpse mutters an apology as he walks in, his eyes glued to the ground.

You order together; you get yourself a boba tea and a burger and Corpse does the same. He pays without saying anything to you, and while the day’s isn’t going quite as you pictured, the gesture makes your cheeks warm. You desperately hope it gets better. Maybe you’ve misread the situation and the chemistry you felt you had was just friendship on his part. Friends flirt all the time, and it doesn’t have to mean anything.

Your food arrives and you sit in relative silence as you eat. The times you do speak is stilted, full of one word answers and obvious observations. You go to reach for your boba as Corpse goes to grab salt, and the movement of his hand plus the crampedness of the table pushes your own hand back towards you, knocking the cup all over your neck and chest. Corpse shoots up in a speed that shouldn’t be human, his hand full of napkins as he comes towards you. The liquid is cold against your skin, and you look down to see your outfit now ruined, the fabric sticking to you in wet patches.

“I’m such a fucking idiot, I’m so sorry,” Corpse says, his tone panicky as he dabs at your neck. He continues to dab, his hands pressing at the neckline of your top and if this was another time, you’d feel all fluttery at his hands on your skin. But it’s not, you’re uncomfortable and the day has sucked so far and all you want to do is go home. He discards the napkin onto the table and grabs another, his fingers warm against your collarbone as he presses the tissue. He doesn’t realise that he’s travelling downwards to your chest before he presses once, twice, before retracting his hand back like he’s been burned, the napkin falling to the floor. “Uh fuck, sorry, I didn’t realise I - “

“It’s fine,” you reassure him. “I’ve always wanted apple scented boobs, guess I can check that off my bucket list.” It’s a failed joke but humour is a defence mechanism for you, even if it’s not very funny. Corpse widens his eyes a little, his gaze fixed on the napkin that’s on the floor.

He hands you some more napkins and you clean up a little more. Your skin feels sticky, and you smell of artificial apple; but the apple isn’t sweet, it’s bitter and slightly unpleasant.

“Uh, I should probably go home and get a shower, I feel like I fell into a vat of sugar,” you say, standing up and grabbing your bag.

“Oh, yeah, I’m so fucking sorry, I’m so clumsy,” Corpse replies. You can tell he feels awful, and while you sympathise, he’s not the one that’s just had almost a full cup of boba spilled on him.

You shake your head, “It’s fine, really. I just feel really gross. Don’t worry about it.” You smile in what you hope comes across as reassurance.

“Let me walk you back to your car,” he says. You nod and walk out together in silence; something you had gotten used to throughout the day.

“Have a safe drive back,” you say as you get to your car.

“I will. Let me know when you get home?” he asks, and you nod.

“Shall do. Goodbye Corpse,” you say, opening the door and waving at him through the window. He waves back and you watch him through the rearview mirror as he disappears out of sight. You feel like an idiot for believing this was going to be good, like you ever had a chance with him. You’d been saying it since the start; that it wouldn’t work, you had nothing in common, nothing to talk about. And you were right. Sometimes you hated being right.

You turn the engine on and sit there for a second, your head pressing against the steering wheel. What a waste of time this was. Grabbing your phone, you tweet quickly.

“Oh well, let’s go wallow in self pity,” you whisper before driving off.

Taglist: @genshinglitter @fanworrior @cherry-piee @mirahg @clara-bee @clubfairy @youretheonlyonewhomakesme @more-like-reyna @boiled-onionrings @moneybagmgk @brendalopez99 @delicateavenuenacho @dreamsofficialwife @hydrate-tion @oi-itsemily @letsloveimagines @softforqiankun @evilunicorns4minions @captain-willowwitch @afuckingunicornn @theroyalbrownbarbie @buttersnitzle @officiallyunofficialperson @aha-red @frostbitelokii @butterfly-skinnylegend @sofianunes10 @ghostfacefricker6969 @alienvarmint @helena-way07 @woah2pointo @jasmine2042003 @youhyakuya @adore-holland @hyunjinhugs @finahja @lupinpetersclearwaterodairparker @only-corpse-hands @remugoodgirl @gowhiteboygo-poggers @open-minded-chip-101 @daveedfanfics @justakpopstans @majasophieanna @mxjetlagcity @strawberrydonkey @meowtella @lizzylynch1 @chesca-791 @anescapefromtheworld @unded-bride @majasophieanna @adorkably @lost--in--the--moon @euphoricseokjin

[ineloqueent]

clouds of snow

Roger Taylor x Reader

synopsis: you and Roger are snowed in. an attempt to cheer up a gloomy Rog turns into an elaborate plan, and the results are cosy.

warnings: swearing

word count: 2.5k

see the moodboard here!

⭒

1975

It had begun to snow shortly after you’d woke up, and even now, two hours later, it had yet to stop.

You’d always known that your best friend— and flatmate— had a childish side, and when the snow had started to fall that morning, this childish side had come out.

He’d called your name from the kitchen, and sleepily, half-dressed in business wear for your drab office job but still wearing pyjamas on your lower half, you’d ambled out of your room to find him leaning out of the window, as the snow fell in his hair.

Realising what he was doing, you gave a shout of alarm.

“Roger, you’ll freeze to death!”

He turned to look at you, a smile forming on his lips. “If I don’t fall to it first.”

“What—”

His eyes widened and he waved his arms in frantic circles, leaning farther out over the windowsill.

You cried out and rushed forward, wrapping your arms around his waist before he could lean any more than he already had.

He laughed and braced himself on the windowsill with one arm, wrapping his other around you as you rested your cheek against his back.

“Don’t do that,” you murmured.

He ruffled your hair, shifting slightly in your grasp. “Would you miss me if I was gone?”

“Of course not,” you scoffed, “but who would pay the other half of the rent?”

“Oh, you’re lethal,” said Roger, shaking his head as he turned to face you, his arms winding around your frame. You clung to him still, your chin on his chest.

“How come you’ve lasted this long, then?”

He snorted. “Because I’m used to you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Are you calling me boring?”

“‘Course not. You keep surprising me every day. It’s a wonder I haven’t moved out yet.”

“And on that note,” you said, unclasping his hands from behind you, before proceeding to disentangle yourself from his embrace, “I’m going to work, so that if you do decide to move out, I can still afford to pay the lease.”

“Already?” said Roger, crossing his arms and pouting, as you nodded and hurried back to your bedroom to finish getting dressed.

You left the door open a crack, because he seemed in the mood to talk, and would probably expect a response from you when he did so.

“Oh, at least stay for coffee, Y/N. We haven’t done anything together in ages.”

You smirked to yourself at his petulant tone, pulling on your newly-polished shoes whilst hopping from foot to foot, trying not to lose your balance.

“Y/N?”

Now properly dressed, you opened your bedroom door and walked straight into your best friend, who was leaning against the doorframe. You took a retreating step.

Folding your arms as well, you considered.

“C’mon,” he said, with a little dip of his head, pleading with those big eyes of his. “Just you and me.” He nudged your shoulder. “Just for a little bit.”

You pretended to continue your consideration, but really, you had already made up your mind.

“Fine,” you said, and Roger smiled gorgeously. “But if I’m late, again, I’m having you ring them and butter them up as your charming self.”

His smile only broadened, as he winked and pushed off of the doorframe. “I’ll go make coffee.”

You shook your head at his suave demeanour, then resumed in collecting your things for work.

A few minutes later, the smell of coffee had begun to waft through the flat, and you made your way back into the main living area to find Roger leaning his elbows on the kitchen counter, frowning as he listened to something on the radio.

“Y/N,” he murmured when he saw you, “come listen to this.”

“What?” you said, straightening your cuffs as you made for the kitchen. “Have the Bay City Rollers knocked Queen out of a number one spot again?”

Roger made a face. “Ha ha, very funny. Happened once, will never let it happen again.” He passed you your coffee, and you thanked him with a nod. “No, this is about the weather.”

“The weather?”

“Yeah, listen.” He reached over and turned up the volume on the radio, and the two of you leaned closer to the apparatus, almost with your heads together.

You wrinkled your nose, feigning disgust at your closeness, though really you felt anything but. Roger rolled his eyes at you and tossed his head in the direction of the radio. You sighed and refocused on the presenter’s voice.

“We once again would like to remind you of London’s severe weather warning, and the national advisory to avoid driving through the city. The underground too, is overwhelmed, so if you were planning on getting to work via the Tube, think again. With the current repairs, and the inclement weather having demobilised several stations, burying them under a blanket of snow, there’s no knowing when you’d get to work, or whether you’d ever make it back.”

Here, the radio presented laughed, and you glanced over at Roger.

“Bit of a morbid sense of humour, that one.”

Roger snickered, “Yeah, bit.”

“Once again, we strongly recommend not travelling during this weather, if at all avoidable, and the Prime Minister seems to agree. Stay safe out there, London.

We now return to our regular broadcast, bringing you the best music of yesterday, today, and even that of tomorrow. Coming up next, an oldie but goldie, Shocking Blue’s ‘Venus’…”

Roger dialled down the volume again.

“So,” he raised his eyebrows at you. “Stay home with me?”

You tapped his nose with your forefinger, and straightened up. “Yeah, why not?”

He grinned.

⭒

“I am so bloody bored, I actually wouldn’t mind an argument with Brian.”

It was two o’clock in the afternoon, and having finished your coffee that morning, you had changed back into loungewear, whilst Roger had set about attempting to find a film to watch on the telly.

Between Monty Python and the Holy Grail, The Rocky Horror Picture Show, and the dreadfully dull and inaptly named Great Gatsby— the book of which Roger insisted was far better than the shoddy film— the two of you had turned to board games. When Roger had beat you seven times in a row at Scrabble, you’d just about had enough, and had gone to the kitchen to make hot chocolate, skipping lunch entirely in favour of dessert.

Four cups of hot chocolate later— two for each of you— Roger had flopped down on the couch, his head and upper torso hanging over the armrest, his legs splayed on the sofa cushions, with a long-suffering sigh.

“I don’t think Brian would agree,” you laughed, finishing the nail you were painting. You were painting the nails of one hand black and the other white, as you’d once promised Freddie and Brian you would. You’d never had both the time and energy to fulfill your promise, until now, nearly a year later, despite Deacy’s efforts to coerce you into doing so, because he and Freddie had been running a bet as to when you would finally get to it.

“Hm. He’s probably off with Chrissie.” Roger shifted, pushing hair out of his eyes. His face was growing pinker the longer he remained suspended upside down. “I haven’t got a Chrissie,” he mumbled.

You screwed the cap back on the black nail polish, and looked over at your best friend. “You’ve got me,” you said softly.

“Yeah, and I’d give my life for you,” he smiled rather sadly, “but it’s not the same, is it?”

In all honesty, it hurt a little to hear him say that. You knew you were not to Roger what Chrissie was to Brian, but it hurt to know that you weren’t enough.

“Roger,” you began slowly, folding your legs beneath you, “are you lonely?”

His eyelashes fluttered as he turned his gaze on you. “Bit, yeah,” he said quietly.

This confession hurt all the more. You wanted to gather him into your arms and hug him to you until all the loneliness dispersed from his very soul.

You didn’t, though. You and Roger had always been close, but this would bring you a little too close. A little too close to something he clearly didn’t want, even if you might have been open to the idea. A little more than open, really, but you pushed that thought to the back of your mind, and the feeling to the depths of your heart.

He’d said nothing more in your silence, and when you looked at him again, he had tugged his lower lip between his teeth, and his eyes seemed more like the ocean than ever— watery.

“Rog,” you said.

“Hm?”

“We could build a fort. A pillow fort.”

His smile was small, but it was there. “The one you always tell me not to make because it’ll ruin the sofa cushions?”

“Yes,” you sighed, “with the splinters you get from these hardwood floors, they’ll scuff up the cushions nicely. And I can’t afford new ones.”

Roger sat up, brightened at the prospect of a pillow fort. “You know I can. I’ll gladly buy you new ones. So, pillow fort?”

His sudden excitement was almost comical, and you so loved seeing that smile back on his face, so you conceded.

“Yeah, alright then.”

“Oh, I’ll love you forever!” He stooped and kissed your cheek in elation, and you pushed him away.

“Get off, you big sap.”

He only laughed, and threw a cushion at you. “Get building, Y/N. We don’t have all day.”

⭒

It was a large-scale construction, your pillow fort. It spanned the whole of the living room floor, which, relatively speaking, wasn’t a lot, as the property you and Roger shared was in London, where a flat cost an arm and a leg, and half a heart as well. All the same, it was still quite impressive.

The pillow fort employed four blankets, six sofa cushions, five pillows, and two rugs, and was wide enough to crawl through and around the coffee table, in a sort of loop. Roger had retrieved torches and switched them on beneath coffee filters, to create makeshift lamps. In the meantime, you’d collected books and magazines, for something to do, and a tin of Roger’s favourite biscuits— the latter in hope of cheering him up ever the more, to keep at bay that loneliness.

“It’s brilliant,” said Roger, standing outside of the fort to admire the results of your teamwork. “It’s the best bloody pillow fort I’ve ever seen.”

You opened the tin of biscuits, a book already in your lap.

“You coming in, or what?” you asked. “You promised you’d read me Gatsby, and I’ve got the only biscuits in the house.”

“Is that so?” Roger mused, and a scuffling sound announced his entrance to the pillow fort, which, in your humble opinion, was really more of a castle.

The blankets rustled as he made his way toward you, and you glanced up at the cotton ceiling.

“Watch it, Rog. The whole place’ll come down in a second.”

Roger only laughed, but the cushion-wall at your side seemed about ready to fall.

“Roger,” you said again, as he came into view. “Seriously, be careful. All our hard work will be for nothing.”

“And to think you weren’t taking this seriously at the beginning, eh? Now you’d give up those biscuits to save it.”

Your tone was warning, “Rog, I really think you should—”

At that moment, the cushion at your side tilted dangerously, and you grabbed Roger’s arm to pull him away from the wall, because his motion was what had upset it in the first place.

But it was too late, and instead of pulling Roger out of the line of fire, you pulled the whole place down around you— and him atop you.

The blanket fell over his head as the walls around you collapsed, and Roger narrowly avoided falling flat upon you, bracing himself on his elbows, at your sides.

He laughed, and despite your slight contempt at him ruining the fort before you’d even had the chance to enjoy it, you laughed too.

His hair hung down over his face and fell in your eyes, and you batted golden streaks away as he continued to laugh, giddily.

“Oh, I’ve not had so much fun in ages,” he said, an echo of his statement from the morning, though this was an expression of happiness, rather than of complaint.

You smiled up at him. “Yeah, me neither.”

But Roger had gone abruptly silent.

His chest rose and fell in the wake of his laughter, but the smile had faded from his lips, his eyes.

Then he lowered his mouth to yours, trading a soft breath with you, before he kissed you.

Something swept over you, a tide, a wind, a fog, a daze— you knew not what, but it swept over you, and slowly, devoured you. It was like clouds, only these clouds were unfamiliar, warm in place of cold when, logically, they should have been cold. This was like looking at clouds, and realising that you’d been looking at clouds wrong for all your life.

Because something had to have changed, didn’t it? You had never felt Roger’s touch in this way, nor longed for it so much as you did now, even with it still upon you.

You’d looked at Roger wrong for all your life, it seemed.

Your hands came to rest on either side of his face, before they carded through his hair, and you kissed him deeply, savouring the taste of chocolate which still lingered on his lips, savouring his sudden closeness to you, the softness of his kiss— far softer than the pillows which had toppled about you and landed you in this beautiful mess in the first place.

You pushed his shoulder so that he fell to his side and you could wrap yourself around him and meld into his form, and he yielded to your touch as equally as he reciprocated it.

When he broke the kiss, it was with a dazed expression and swollen, parted lips, and you swallowed thickly, glancing away and hoping dearly that he was not about to express regret for what he had done.

He didn’t.

“Maybe it is the same,” he whispered.

“What?” you murmured back, confused.

He raised his hand and his fingertips traced your jaw, his eyes following in an intimate gaze. “I said I didn’t have someone, you know, but maybe I do. Maybe it could be the same. Maybe we could be both. Friends, and—”

His breath faltered, and you reached for his hand. “Go on, Rog.”

“Lovers,” he suggested quietly.

You didn’t think about it, because it was not a matter to be thought of. This was to be felt, and nothing more.

“I’d love that.”

He blinked. “Pun… not intended?”

You swatted at him, rolling your eyes, and that light, fluttering laughter bubbled up in his throat again, warm and familiar.

“I hate you,” you said.

“Good,” Roger whispered, touching his nose to yours. His words hummed on your lips. “Because I think I love you more than ever.”

[whittakerjodie]

The Mask (13th Doctor X Reader X 8th Doctor)

Requested: by me because I’m in love with these dorks 

Summary: It’s your turn to choose the adventure and, without another idea, you choose a masquerade ball. When you find yourself separated from the Doctor, you run into a mysterious and charismatic man who goes by the same name as your traveling partner...

A/N: I am so so sorry that I haven’t written in forever! I am in my first semester at college doing 16 credit hours and for great chunk of the semester I’ve also been working full time. I’m not, now, so I have a little bit more time, but I’m trying to finish this semester out strong. I hope that you enjoy this fic!

Words: 2.5k 

Warnings: None that I can think of, it’s a ‘jealousy’ type fic if that is something you want to avoid! 

“Good?” You whispered. The Doctor nodded, letting her hands fall from the sides of your face. The mask, which you had picked out from the TARDIS’ infinite dressing room, now rested neatly against your face, adding a bit of flair to the rest of your elaborate outfit. It was your turn to pick out where and when you went in the space-time machine. Having run out of ideas, your mind flashed back to the most recent movie you’d seen and in the end you proposed attending a masquerade ball. Purely for the aesthetics, you told yourself, although there was certainly some unconscious desires at play-

“How’s mine?” Your favorite time lord asked, having finished slipping on her mask. You gasped; clearly she’d had it for a long time. This was made evident by the gold intricately placed in complex circles against a black frame, the texture of which was dulled and beginning to fray from use and age. It fit nicely with her old fashioned suit, which was fashioned out of the same dark material, fitting her body awkwardly. Clearly she’d borrowed it from a past self. Her eyes, visible under the mask, seemed to have aged centuries from the second the mask had come into contact with her face to match it.

“It looks great” You said, certifying the outfits status. The Doctor grinned and held out a hand for you. You accepted it, enjoying the way her fingers curled around yours, transferring her warmth through your body. Her excitement, too, must’ve passed through your skin-level bond, because you could feel your heart racing as she led you out the doors towards the ball.

Within an instant, you were transported from the TARDIS’ interior dimension into a world filled with glitter and gold. It came in second place compared to the air of the room itself, which was occupied by the vibrations of the most glorious music you’d ever heard. People were everywhere, occupying every inch of the dance floor and beyond, blurring into a sea of movement. The Doctor squeezed your hand, and you threw yourself into the waves.

After about a half hour, you were about done with the dancing mess. At least for a time. Your clothes were beginning to stick to your body, your body's natural cooling function turning into a frustrating adhesive. Not to mention your feet were starting to ache, begging you to take it easy for a time. The Doctor, being an immortal ball of energy, was still enthusiastically throwing herself around the dance floor, forgoing any rhythm that she might’ve been recommended to meet. You flashed her a smile before turning to the snack table, fancying a drink. Reaching for the punch bowl, your movements were interrupted by the startling cough that started next to you.

You took a step back, concerned building for the man who was leaned against the wall, doubled over.

“Are you alright?” you asked, trying to remember everything you knew about preventing choking. Just as your hands moved towards the man, however, he straightened up with ease, all tension gone from his face. The only sign that anything was amiss were his eyebrows, which started to furrow.

“There was alcohol in my drink.” He said, as if offended. You chuckled. “Laying off, Hm?” Still, you avoided the punch bowl that he was glancing warily at and stepped in front of the next one.

“Don’t drink from that one either,” He recommended.

“... Why not?” You asked, confused and slightly irritated. “Not enough sugar. No fun.” You laughed. “Not enough sugar? What kind of a picker eater- drinker, I should say, are you?”

“I’m not picky,” The man whined. His eyes drifted from yours to the accessory surrounding them. “Where did you get that mask?”

From the softness of his words you instinctively raised your hand, fingertips brushing against the piece. “A… friend got it for me. Do you like it?”

“It looks familiar” He said, with a curious gaze.

“Does that mean you like it?” You whispered again. With his face so close, inspecting your mask, you needn’t speak too loudly. Face heating up, you cleared your throat. “Where’s yours?”

“My what?”

“Your mask. It is a masquerade ball” He paused and blinked, as if just remembering where he was. Then his face lit up, his body jumping quickly as his hands flew to his pockets. The mask he produced from them seemed to be of a standard shape and size; it was the design that caught you off guard. Golden circles covered the black frame, which was neither dulled or frayed but a healthy, vibrant shade. It was the same mask that the Doctor wore in the next room.

“Do you like it?” He asked coyly. Before he could cover up his features with the mask, you put a hand on his wrist, eyes scanning over his face. There wasn’t a lot of similarity, but you knew that regeneration was a lottery. Having met up with the Doctor’s 10th incarnation far too many times to count, you were well acquainted with the Doctor and their species’ habit for changing their face. He glanced over to your hand on his wrist and swiftly removed your iron grip. In an even quicker moment, he pulled your mask from where it rested and replaced it with his own.

Before you could process the change, your stolen mask was on his face.

“There! Since you liked mine so much. Now it’s yours.”

You tried to speak, but could only manage a sputter for several seconds until the shock released its hand from your vocal cords and you gasped: “Doctor?”

That threw him off guard. He slipped the mask upwards so it rested against his  curls, eyes narrowing. “How do you know that name?” He murmured.

“So you are the Doctor.” You said incredulously. “I’ve no idea which one but-”

“How do you know that I’m the Doctor?” He replied, tone turning sour with seriousness. Then he backed off a little. “Have we met before? You must understand, I have a habit of, well, forgetting myself. And everything else.”

“I travel with you!” You clarified, starting to get excited at the prospect of meeting a new (or, to put it chronologically, old, depending on where he was in the Doctor's life) incarnation of the Doctor. Realizing that your words might’ve been a mistake, you covered your mouth with a small squeak. From behind your hand, you worriedly asked: “Was I not supposed to tell you that?”

The new Doctor laughed. “I’m sure it’s no trouble. Luckily for you, I also happen to have the habit of running into my past and future selves, friends included!” The joy lacing his words put you at ease and you lowered your hand from it’s muzzle position only to have it captured by him immediately.

“Come,” He said, tugging you along as more people began to arrive at the snack table. “I want to meet you, properly!”

When the new Doctor mentioned that he wanted to meet you properly, you had no idea that dancing was his intention. But, soon enough, you found yourself ensconced in the commotion once again. Completely oblivious to the organized dance that was sweeping through the room, The new Doctor raised your entwined hands in the formation of a waltz, his other hand resting in a respectful position on the middle of your back. It’s warmth, so similar to your own Doctors, seeped through the fabric and created goosebumps along your arms.

“So, which one are you?” You asked, voice rising above the violins and cellos.

“Incarnations, you mean? I’m currently in my 8th body. I assume you travel with my 9th?”

“13th, actually,”

The 8th Doctor paused, looking confused for a moment. His lapse in movement caused him to bump into another partygoer, which jostled him back into the dance. “Ah, wearing a bit thin, then…”

“How do you mean?” You asked, concerned at his comment.

“Not to worry,” He said with an enormous smile. “How about you? Where are you from?”

“Earth”

“When?”

“2020”

The 8th Doctor cringed. “I really must come up with better questions”

“I’ve got one,” Said a new but familiar voice. The Doctor, your Doctor, stood only a fraction of an inch away, hands on her hips. ‘8′ gave her a once over, then looked at you and acknowledged the recognition in your eyes.

“Ah, you must be my future self!” He said excitedly. “Wonderful”

“Yes, it is,” your Doctor said hurriedly. “We really should get going, shouldn’t we Y/N?”

“But we’re dancing,” you protested.

“Yes, they want to dance,” the other Doctor reinforced. “Surely there’s no… problem?” You frowned at the inclination in his voice, and so did your Doctor.

“Then they can dance. With me?” your Doctor asked. It sounded authoritative, but the lift of her tone at the end left a hint of worry behind.

“Well, sure-” Before you could finish your sentence, your hand left the 8th Doctors and landed on the shoulder of your Doctor, who began to spin you around the room and away from her past self.

“Where’d your mask go?” She asked, hands gripping your waist tightly.

“He swapped ours,” You replied, trying to keep your voice steady as your Doctor dipped you. The world stopped in that moment, the Doctor’s eyes moving over the gold design. You imagined it would be necessary to breathe soon, but you didn’t want to disrupt the air between the two of you. To keep you steady, the Doctor's hands moved to your upper back, making you shudder.

“Well, jokes on him,” She whispered, as if proving herself in some momentous feat. “Now we match”

When you were raised back into a standing position you found yourself wobbling a bit, still dizzy from the seconds you’d spent near horizontal, only able to focus on your Doctor's voice and presence. Thankfully, there was another presence there to keep you steady.

“You don’t mind if I borrow them for a moment, surely?” the Doctors 8th incarnation asked, arm slipping around your waist.

“I don’t mind,” You squeaked. As you were turned away, you got the feeling that your Doctor did mind. The song ended and another one began, sweeping you off your feet. Or perhaps that was the 8th Doctor himself, who was moving the two of you throughout the room; an impressive feat given your close proximity to the other occupants- and each other.

“I do mind, actually,” your Doctor said grumpily a few moments later, easily and swifting transitioning you from his arms back to hers. Her old incarnation looked stunned for a moment before you lost sight of him. Everything was beginning to blur together, and soon it was hard to tell whose arms you were actually in at any given moment.

“Getting a little bit territorial in your old age, are you?” The 8th Doctor snipped over your shoulder. You resisted the urge to add fuel to the fire growing between them, trying to keep your mind on the music and the dance. However, your mind was distracted and your feet refused to move as they should.

“Old age? You mean more mature, wise-”

“No, I mean territorial” Your Doctor shook her head, trying to guide the two of you away from her past self, only to find that the way was blocked by too many people.

“Or maybe I just remember your plate being a little full” She challenged. “How’s Grace? Charley? Fi-”

“Okay, enough!” You yelped, not exactly anxious to hear all the names involved in the Doctor’s romantic history. Slightly out of breath, and incredibly dizzy, you glanced around for an uninhabited corner of the room that you could take advantage of. You didn’t find one, but you did see, out of the corner of your eye, a man dumping something into the punch bowl that you had been standing at previously.

“See?” You heaved, trying to catch your breath and end their ego contest. “Weird, suspicious stuff. Adventure, right? Go fetch!”

Both of them looked at you with wide eyes. Luckily, you didn’t have to suppress laughter, as your lack of air intake was doing that for you well enough. They looked at each other next.

“This isn’t over,” your Doctor grumbled, as she started moving towards the suspicious activity. As the back of her and the other doctors' suits entered your vision, you thanked the Universe for a break. It wasn’t too welcoming, and you found that each Doctor took one of your hands into theirs and began to lead you along.

__________________________________

It was another 3 hours of challenging quips and hand holding before you finally managed to get the break you so desperately craved, leaning against the TARDIS’ exterior as the two Doctors spoke of the past, the future and the present. It was nice to see them finally getting along. The adventure had brought the two of them together quite nicely, reminding them that they were one and the same despite the bodies and years separating them. Their conversation wrapped up smoothly, with smiles. Then, it was your turn to say goodbye.

“I can’t hang on to the mask, I don’t think” You said sadly, slipping his mask from your face. “I think that if I did, it wouldn’t be in the wardrobe for my Doctor to find. It could conjure up another one, though… maybe?”

“Your Doctor,” The 8th Doctor murmured with a smile. “I like that sentiment.”

Your cheeks grew warmer as you placed the mask into his palm, gently closing his fingers around it. He had taken your mask off of his face, but didn’t hand it over.

“You don’t mind if I keep this one, do you? I’ll put in a good word with the TARDIS to bring it back to you.”

Not entirely grasping the time travel and not bothering to, you nodded, knowing that somehow it would all work out. You glanced over his shoulder to see your Doctor, watching the two of you not with a look of apprehension, but with comforted observation. The 8th Doctor matched your gaze, chuckling to himself. “I suppose I best return to my own travels and time. But, Y/N, make no mistake. I’m very much looking forward to our future.” At the end of his sentence, with his words still echoing through the air, he raised your entwined hands and pressed a delicate kiss to the back of yours, with a squeeze as a promise for another time- One that was steps away.

Clutching your hand to your chest, you watched him disappear into his TARDIS, which began to dematerialize moments later. There was a small ache, but it was soon remedied by your Doctor approaching, with a distant look in her eyes. Clearly, the memories and experiences of another lifetime were beginning to resurface.

“Do I get one from you, too?” You asked to cheer her up. She raised a brow and you held out your other hand, the one untouched. Your Doctor slowly bowed her head to place her lips against it, humming softly. After she was done, she turned it over to place another kiss on the inside of your wrist, against the place where your heart beat in a rapid succession.

“Still trying to one-up him?” You whispered, voice slightly wavering. Your Doctor smiled, unlocking the TARDIS.

“Something tells me I don’t need to. Our future, remember?” Your future, together. Seeing the universe, together. You followed her into the time machine, heart full and eager for more.

[a-medvezhonok]

Part 4 April x Sterling

[part 3] [part 2] [part 1] [Ao3]

The next day Sterling walked into Ellen’s class, she was a bit late after this morning’s family argument. Ellen smiled brightly as Sterling entered.

-Oh hi, sweetie. It’s not like you to be late, but I’m sure you had your reason. Saving some stray poor run over animal perhaps? Why don’t you take a seat? Sterling smiled back and nodded rather than try and go into the whole explanation for her being late. She looked around the class for an empty spot, obviously, the only free one was next to April. April patted the seat, with a big teasing smile. Sterling walked over for lack of other options, even though she really did not feel strong enough for April today, not after the morning she had just had.

Ellen carried on –Now as I was saying, today is a very special day. Second only to Easter, Christmas and May the third. That’s my Birthday- She pointed at everyone- so make a note of that. No, during this week you get to work on a very exciting project. Oooh, I love this part, the suspense of it all, preparing a last supper!!!-the class groaned.

-Together we will make a big old banquet for the whole class and anyone else you want to invite and then we can all feast on your scrumptious delicacies. Now I have already teamed you up with your specific roles, to save you the awkward, ooh who do I work with, situation. –Ellen starts listing the groups and jobs.

- April and Sterling,- Both tense up- you worked so well as a team last time, so I am giving you the very special role of making Jesus’s body, the bread! It’s up to you how on many you bake and what kind, but I would recommend a minimum of five loaves, because, I’ll let you in on a little secret here. Three years ago, people weren’t being very Christian when sharing the four loaves provided.- She finished giving out the roles.- Ok now I bet you are all so excited to start, so for the rest of the class, I will just let you guys plan and discuss. If you have any questions I’m always here for you, not going anywhere, never have and never will, forever. Discuss!!

April looked over to Sterling – Well I guess we are teammates again.

-Yeah I guess so.

-Are you ok? You seem a bit off? –April reached out instinctively to place her hand on Sterling’s arm, but Sterling quickly retracted her own arm. Then looked apologetically back at April and tried to smile.

-It’s just family stuff, you know.

-Yeah, I know what that’s like. – There was a slight pause. – Sorry, I mean, you can tell me if you want, you were a surprisingly attentive listener when I spoke about my dad, it’s only fair I return the favour.

-Hah, that’s sweet – At this April blushed- but I really can’t get into it all. But thanks’ for trying. You just went up a grade in friendship – Sterling joke punched April’s arm. At this, they both smiled. Sterling cleared her throat and composed herself more. – So what’s the plan for the bread?

April used her best mocking seductive tone -You mean Jesus’s toned supple body.

Sterling couldn’t help but scoff – Like you would go anywhere near his body.

The comment took April by surprise, a flash of fear on her face that maybe someone heard and understood the meaning. But she quickly realised everyone else was too engrossed in their own conversations to notice. –Perhaps not, but by the way Ellen said “body” she clearly wants a slice of that.

-Yeah, she definitely has a type, you should hear her talk about Moses.

-I know right? – laughed April. Sterling tried to keep the flow going, but she couldn’t think straight, April was looking directly at her and her eyes were so big and pretty and the topic of even bread innuendos was a bit too much right now. She had to change the subject.

- I was thinking we could do it at mine? – At this April raised a sharp eyebrow- I.. I meant the baking, we have at least two ovens. Knowing my mum, there might even be a third one hidden that I don’t know about.–April was surprised at how genuinely angry Sterling sounded about the prospect of there being a secret oven.

- Sure we can bake at yours- April instinctively in trying to comfort placed her hand on Sterling’s thigh- as long as that’s ok with whatever’s happening at home.

Sterling seemed to relax- Yeah it’s fine. If the banquet is on Friday, then you can come round on Thursday. Plus the house will be empty, Blair has her music lessons – suddenly Sterling starts aggressively whispering- which I didn’t tell you about, she would kill me for telling you, but she’s really good at it, so I don’t know why she wants to keep it a secret. She says it’s to preserve her image, but I don’t see why anyone would care- she started talking normally again- Sorry got off track, but my parents are out as well. So it would just be the two of us. – Sterling realised as she said it that maybe that wasn’t actually a great thing for the two of them, but tried to not show that train of thought. April was also trying her hardest to keep a neutral facial expression.

-Thursday it is. We can send each other recipe ideas and make a list of all the ingredients we will need. And then you can check off the ones that you have at home, and then I can check if we have any of the ones you don’t have, and then I can go to the store and -

-Maybe make a colour coded spreadsheet, make a couple of graphs too.

-Stop teasing. - There was that lopsided smile Sterling adored.

- Oh so you can tease me, but I can’t tease you?

-Yes, exactly. Plus don’t make it sound like you don’t love how organised I am. – At this she leaned in closer to Sterling- I’m also efficient.

-I hate you.

-Good, the feelings are mutual. – They both grinned.

[ginnyzero]

Does Your Story Suffer from Exposition-itus

Exposition. What is it? What does it do? Exposition according to dictionary.com is a noun and the definitions that concern us are numbers 2, and 3. The act of expounding, setting forth, or explaining. And Writing or speech primarily intended to convey information or explain, a detailed statement or explanation.

Or in author terms. Info-dumping.

It is the opposite of action. Action being the dialog and actions that move your story forward.

Now, not all exposition is bad. In fact, there are going to be places in your book where information is necessary. However, if your exposition outweighs your action, it will slow your story down and turn off readers. Especially, if your exposition is in the beginning of your book. Especially since most exposition is in passive voice. A lot of times, I find exposition to be the author starting the story in their own head and explaining everything up to the point where the inciting incident starts, and then not realizing it’s exposition and not editing it out later.

So, here are 9 symptoms of exposition-itus, a readers perspective and in author terms b/c I also happen to be an author.

1) It reads like a history book.

In fact, it might as well be a history book, as the author has decided to spend so many pages on the historical and cultural facts that have brought us to this point in the story. This can actually be disguised as dialogue, where one character is telling the other character everything they need to know whether or not the reader actually needs to know about it or not. This can include things like background, family history, asking what is going on in the other character’s life, and so on and so forth.

Boring. Yawn. Especially if this happens in the beginning of the book. There is no interaction or action, reaction going on for us to care. These are words for the sake of words and the author needs to edit, figure out when or if this information is actually important to the story and then casually slide it in there.

2) It reads like a character sheet.

This is when the author, instead of relying on their ability to show us character traits, decides to tell us the traits of these characters instead.

In the Lone Prospect, I could tell you “Gideon was a man in his mid-twenties exactly (25), fresh out of a medical discharge from the military and wearing his worn out, too thin, farm clothes from his teens that strained against his adult physique. He loved his mother and didn’t want to worry her, but he and his father weren’t getting along. Thus, leaving Gideon looking for a new place to settle down. He was mildly optimistic about it. Oh. And he was a werewolf, so it made things a tad more complicated.”

Or, I can do what I did, wait until chapter three, have Gideon write a letter to his mother while interacting with a duck and hope I conveyed the same information in a way that doesn’t bore you to tears.

In telling us the ‘traits’ of the character, the author makes it doubly difficult on themselves on top of frustrating the reader. If you tell the reader the character is competent, sarcastic, and reckless, then you have to show it too or risk not having consistency in the book. Instead, know your character traits, keep them close to your chest, and simply have your characters act. That way the reader can determine them for themselves, and character consistency is maintained.

3) It reads like a scene summary.

So, you’re reading along in the story and there in the middle of what could be a good scene of character interaction is a paragraph about how there was character interaction because these are all great friends, really! But instead of showing you, the author instead has decided to tell you.

Which completely ruins the point of the reader figuring out these people are good friends.

Again, in the Lone Prospect, I have a scene I could have summarized. Gideon has just been accepted into the pack after a potluck dinner. This turns into a party. And I could have summarized the party; people having motorcycle races over here, the hand to hand combat spars over there, people dancing to loud techno-metal music over here, what is the pack doing with a military grade drop ship in a hangar? Oh wait. Instead, I turned it into a several page scene where you see this all from Gideon’s point of view and actually interact with people.

4) It reads like a list.

Description. It’s difficult. It’s especially difficult when you aren’t sure how to do it. So, authors will often resort to lists in order to get it out of the way so they can get on with the exciting bits, the story. Without considering how much or if the character their using as a point of view character is going to notice such things, or if the reader is going to care.

Most readers will not care about detailed descriptions of clothes. They just don’t. As a person trained if fashion, this is painful, but I’ve come to terms with it.

A list description reads like this, “Gideon was six foot even with light olive skin, short brown hair growing out of a buzz cut and two days worth of stubble, and golden brown eyes that were best compared to aged whiskey. No one gave a damn if he shaved anymore, so why bother. He wore a too thin white t-shirt straining against his military physical trained muscles, and stone washed jeans that were spattered with bleach spots and worn around the knees. His black combat boots were all he had left of his uniforms, outside a few tailor made dress blues he only got to keep because they were tailored, and a mess of ribbons and awards he didn’t give a damn about. The boots were broken in and comfortable and one of his two pairs of shoes. Thus, why he was wearing them with his jeans.”

There are better ways to work in description. This is boring. In fact, it’s probably not even relevant. I don’t think I’ve mentioned he’s six foot yet. I may have mentioned Savannah is 5’2”. Or just that she comes up to his chin and it amuses him.

5) It reads like the author is telling themselves the story up to this point.

Instead of opening with some type of action or dialogue, the story instead opens with a ramble of words about the location, the history, or the characters, or combination thereof. What I mean is, the author doesn’t jump straight into the scene, they are instead setting the stage a lah ‘it was the best of times, and the worst of times, on a dark and stormy night.’

Maybe you could get away with that a hundred or more years ago. You can’t today.

Get to the point.

(This is especially frustrating when you’ve had a decent straight to the point prologue and a chapter, and then chapter two or three we’re on our third hook and it becomes an author ramble.)

6) Passive voice. Passive Voice. Passive voice.

You might notice in most of the points about, there is a lot of the use of the verb ‘to be.” Or it sounds like a newspaper story where the author is rattling off the facts of the incident.

Usage of the verb ‘to be’ slows the story down. Telling us things. Summarizing things, instead of ‘speeding’ the story up, makes the reader feel like the author thinks we’re stupid and can’t read between the lines. (Yes, it’s better to show AND tell emotions. Like, I said, exposition isn’t always bad.) Or, the author simply doesn’t know how to write. Because why would you skip the fun, and yummy character interaction scenes.

Go through your manuscript. Find the verb to be, kill it without prejudice as much as possible. Look for summarization and flesh it out! Then, figure out if you really need that scene or is it a ‘darling’ and needs to be excised with fire. (Or lovingly saved into a separate document for later. Yes. Yes. My precious.)

7) It’s irrelevant to the story at hand…

Many times, when your story suffers exposition-itus. It’s because the information you’re explaining or giving is simply not relevant to the story right that moment. The reader doesn’t need to know the information to get full enjoyment out of the book. And the information given is more or less to show off their world building or sometimes to simply up the word count.

As an author, I recommend taking all your exposition and creating a world building document called a “bible.” This will put all the world building into one place, get the urge to explain everything out of your system, AND give you the benefit of seeing places your world building might be weak. Then you can while you’re writing be able to put the relevant information into the book as the reader and character needs to know it.

Especially if the character doesn’t know the information yet or can’t know the information.

OR

8) It answers all the questions the reader is asking.

This is where the author feels the need to explain everything. The character is in a new situation. So, there is another character who knows what is going on, but can’t get involved for ‘reasons’ training the character. So, the author tells the character and the reader all the information including motivations and enemy capabilities.

And, well, there is the entire book and mystery ruined.

That is only one scenario mind you.

Your job as an author is to set up questions about the character, and the world, and the situation. The character and the reader go on a journey to answer these questions. These mysteries keep the reader turning pages and buying the next book. If you answer these questions in the prologue, or the first five chapters, then the reader has no reason to keep reading the book.

9) The story isn’t moving forward.

One thing about exposition is it stalls the plot.

Your story is like being in an elevator. The scenes that move the story along are like the elevator moving between floors with the chapters being the elevator stopping and opening the doors to let people on and off. Exposition is the elevator stalling between floors.

You’re hanging there, precariously over a long shaft by wire cables, and the elevator has stopped without any way for you to leave as the soothing and yet aggravating music drones on and on. Eventually, you hope, things start moving again.

And so, when the elevator stops at the next floor, the reader gets off and refuses to get back on. Or if they’re really aggravated, they will figure out how to crawl out the top of the elevator and pry open the doors to get out.

Exposition is the ‘dead spots’ of your story. They’re places where the reader starts skimming hoping to get to the next bit of action or character interaction that is relevant. Exposition kills your tension and makes readers set down your book.

If anything, put exposition near the end of your book, “Dumbledore Explains” style or “Elementary, my dear Watson,” mystery style. By this point, you have your readers so invested into the plot of the story, they’ll be more likely to forgive you a momentary ramble or history lesson.

I know I have exposition at the end of the Lone Prospect about different types of motorcycle clubs. One. This is actually relevant information that given the book is about a motorcycle club, you the reader need to know. And two, I’m not planning on addressing it directly by showing the differences until book five! Three, Gideon needed to know this information as it influences his decision on if he’s going to stay or not.

So, I’m hopeful, as an author, you can forgive me for my ramble about motorcycle clubs in the form of Hunter telling Gideon a story. Well, Hunter and Brand because Brand had to get in on it.

Anyways, here are 9 symptoms of exposition-itus. I hope it helps. Please remember, your action ratio should always outweigh your exposition ratio by a large margin. Be precise and be concise. Especially in the beginning of the book where you’re trying to keep readers reading your story.

[yossariandawn]

Tagged by @astarkey and @alwaysupatnight , thank you! I do love interesting questions! I’m combining these because it would take me days to think up 22 questions. Here are the rules:

Rule 1: post the rules Rule 2: answer the questions the person who tagged you asked and write 11 new ones Rule 3: tag 11 people and link them to the post Rule 4: actually tell them you tagged them

Edit: I didn’t realize how long this got, so I’m fixing it so I can put some of it behind a cut. My questions first so people can decide if they want to play along!

My Questions:

1. Set two fictional couples you love on a double date, and tell me how would that play out? One word answers are acceptable if you prefer.

2. Do you like candles? If so, what’s your favorite candle scent?

3. What’s the perfect fic you’ve been craving that wish someone else would write already?

4. If you could have an 15 minute conversation with any fictional character, who would you choose?

5. Above question continued, what would you talk about?

6. What’s one weird thing you loved as a child?

7. Any songs that make you always think of a character?

8. How well can you swim, and do you enjoy swimming?

9. Recommend me a new show, movie, or song!

10. What’s your favorite food that you make?

11. Draft the perfect Zombie Apocalypse Survival Team, 5 characters from any show or movie.

and now I’m tagging @sandalaris, @fortysevenswrites, @starkidmack, @captain-k-jones, and if you follow me and want to be tagged in this kind of thing in the future, just tag yourself and I’ll know to send them your way! I never know who wants to play, and there’s never any pressure to do any I send, I promise! 💖

EDIT: adding @alwaysupatnight​ YOU ARE NOW OFFICIALLY TAGGED

and now for my answers behind the cut:

@astarkey’s questions:

1. Favorite fall activity? Anything outside, to be honest. It’s my favorite time of year! I do love reading in my hammock with a blanket before it gets too cold, though I’m not sure that counts as an activity.

2. Favorite song at the moment? Well, the one I’m most obsessing on is one I’m vidding right now, so I’m keeping that a secret. BUT, I’ve been listening to Setting Sun by Lord Huron a lot recently ever since @alwaysupatnight mentioned it in an ask about Culebra Seth. I hadn’t heard it before and I fell right in love with it. 

3. Last movie you saw in theaters? Oh, it has been awhile since I actually went to a theater. I wanna say it was the first IT movie, cause I remember taking my brothers to see that. If I went after that I guess it didn’t leave an impression on me.

4. Favorite emoji/smiley? I really like 🥳 cause look how excited it is! Close second is 😎 because it makes me think of the Geckos when I use it.

5. Cold weather or hot weather? Cold weather, as stated above!

6. Are you a past, present, or future person? Hmm, I’m going to say present. I am a bit of a worrier by nature, so I intentionally try and keep myself grounded by staying in the moment as much as possible, so I’m not obsessing over what I did or about what could happen next. I’m reasonably successful with it. 

7. From where you’re sitting, what’s the closest object on your right? Water bottle.

8. What’s something you’re weirdly afraid of? (For example, a hair dryer, airplanes, a microwave, etc.) Ok, so this going to sound very weird, but it’s grasshoppers.  don’t mind spiders, hornets, bees, any of the normal creepy crawlies, they don’t bother me at all, but I have such an intense irrational reaction to grasshoppers, like a real fight or flight thing kicks in for me. I understand they can’t hurt me, but I don’t trust those little sideways hoppers AT ALL. Also, I used to spend a lot time catching (and releasing) bugs when I was a small child, and one day one BIT ME, which I didn’t know they can do, and the betrayal was so great that I have never forgiven them. And then if you want to see something that’s even more untrustworthy, google the spider cricket sometime. I don’t see as many of those, but my friend had some living underneath her porch one year, and they are terrible. (also harmless)

9. Favorite snack food? Soft pretzels with cheese are always a good time. And now I want one, dang it.

10. Favorite color to wear? Blue! I love blue so much.

11. Stargazing in an open field, watching the ocean tides on a lonely beach, or late night drives on the highway while listening to good music?  I’m going to pick stargazing in an open field, because that sounds the most relaxing to me at the moment! But the other two also sound lovely.

@alwaysupatnight‘s asks:

1. Have you started any new hobbies this year? Vidding. if I’m allowed to stretch the definition of a year about 1 month past haha.  I’ve also done a ton more “creative" writing since joining tumblr, all these asks and tag games are the most I’ve ever organized my thoughts and put them out there for others to actually see (excluding non voluntary things like schoolwork and work) It’s been a lot of fun to do both, and really allowed me to push myself out of my comfort zone.

2. Read any good books lately? Not recently, I have several checked out I need to get to soon before I have to return them.

3. Favorite color of nail polish to wear? Or if you don’t wear nail polish, the color of the laces on your fave pair of sneakers? I don’t wear nail polish most of the time, though I will let children paint my nails when they want, since they seem to love doing that. And my favorite sneaker laces are just the standard white they came with. I’m pretty causal and laid back fashion wise.

4. Faerie, mermaid, angel, or vampire? This is so broad! Am I reading/watching something they’re in, fighting them, auditioning them as room mates?! I’m going to go with Vampire (Mermaid as a second choice)

5. What is your MBTI type?  INFJ

6. What does your phone case look like? (Describe or post a pic) It’s black, no design. I’m so boring an practical!!!! I picked it out based on reviews, I drop my phone way to much.

7. What is your dream vacation? Camping, with people I like. Maybe a road trip out west.

8. Would you tell us a little about your current WIP? (writing, art, gifset, whatever the project!!) Working on a new vid, I’d let myself get stuck finishing one up, and realized maybe I needed a break from that one. It’s a SethKate one I’ve wanted to do ever since I heard the song, and I’m just going to do it. It’s not AU? That’s all the spoilers for now.

9. What is the best movie you’ve seen this year? I SEE WHAT YOU DID THERE, BUT YES. Prospect was amazing, and does when that title! Runners up would be Priest, Crawl (I love disaster movies so much) and Knives Out.

10. What are your opinions on the child from The Mandalorian series? Really cute! I have only seen like 3 episodes, but I have seen all the gifs, (especially today 🤣) and look at the tiny adorable space baby with powers 🥰

11. What is your zodiac sign, and do you think it fits your personality? I am an Aquarius, I have no idea honestly. Maybe? Is there an official description I can read somewhere?

[humbae]

A fanfic for you!!

Below the cut, a submission from a wonderful person. Ylvis fanfiction of the Vegard whump variety, I most definitely recommend reading it for all those interested in the subject.

Hey hey! I only now discovered your AO3 stories and enjoyed them so much! It actually inspired me to write one of my own based on the events from this summer. You don’t have to post this, I was just interested to hear your opinion on my first fanfic ever :). Thanks a lot for your wonderful work! He would have never believed that a simple single kick could hurt so much. But he did not regret the idea - after all, it was a lot of fun, and the pain would eventually go away and make a nice memory. He limped to work, curious to see how Vegard and Calle were handling their own ordeals. When he opened the door to the office he and Vegard shared however, he was surprised to find it empty.

It was odd; Vegard was almost never late, and even when he was late, he would still arrive earlier than Baard. Baard just put it down to him probably oversleeping for once or having a slow morning after an intense day at work yesterday. That’s how life gets after 40, he thought to himself, smirked and got to work.

He didn’t have to wonder about Vegard’s whereabouts for too long. Five minutes later, his phone beeped and he saw a message in which Vegard informed him that he will be most likely working from home today. 

“That won’t be possible.”, Baard replied. “The guy who is supposed to accompany the show with the accordion just told me that he will be showing up today instead of tomorrow so that we go over the music together, he had some changes in his schedule. He is coming at 14.00.”.

“Do I have to be there for that? Cannot we just arrange it through Skype?”, Vegard replied.

Baard was taken aback. This was not a reaction he would ever expect from Vegard when music, and especially accordion (which they both liked so much), were involved.

“Don’t be a lazyass, just come to the office. What’s up? Why can’t you come?”

There was no response for a couple of minutes, and Baard was just at the verge of calling Vegard, when he saw that Vegard replied with “On my way.”.

An hour later, when Vegard showed up, it became very obvious to Baard why Vegard wanted to stay at home. He did see his brother walking very funnily yesterday - funnily enough for him to put it on Instagram - but this was a whole different level. He had his scooter with him, but only to act as a crutch instead of using it as an actual scooter. He was not putting any weight on his leg.

“Why didn’t you drive if it hurts to walk, you idiot?”, Baard greeted.

“Nice to see you too… I just don’t trust my leg to work with the pedals in a state like this, that is all.”, Vegard said still with some agony and irritation in his face.

“But does it really hurt so much? I mean, my leg is also fairly painful, but I hope I look nowhere this pathetic.”

“Thank you, trust me, if I could choose, I would indeed opt for looking less pathetic.”, Vegard replied and rolled his eyes. Baard decided not to respond and just made a mental note to drive Vegard home at the end of the day; Vegard was obviously not in a mood for being teased right now, and it was Baard’s fault after all that they were all in this state now. 

Things went a bit better after they started working. This was most likely because Vegard could just sit in his chair, so his mood improved significantly as he was without the added pain of walking. 

The lunch-time was approaching, which the four of them usually spent together eating outside, in front of the building to enjoy the warm summer weather.

“Hungry yet?” Baard suggested after his belly started making noises.

“No, not really, I think I will skip lunch today.”

Baard raised his eyebrows; this was nothing like his brother. It would be usually his brother making the lunch suggestion first.

“You mind elaborating on why?”

“Do I have to? You will call me a whiny little bitch if I do." 

"I will call you that anyway. So what is up?”

Vegard sighted. “It is just that the prospect of staying hungry looks far more appealing than the prospect of having to walk outside or even to the fridge, that’s all.”

Only then Baard understood how bad Vegard’s leg must have hurt. 

“We can also have it in the shared office space today. The weather is not that nice anyway.”

“Don’t restrict yourself, I am sure you would prefer to have it outside.”, Vegard insisted.

“I will ask Calle, but both he and myself are also still limping, so I am sure both Magnus and Calle will agree to stay here. And I will get you your lunch from the fridge and bring it. Just get your lazy sorry ass over there in the meantime." 

A couple of moments later, they all gathered in the shared space to have lunch. Both Calle and Baard appreciated making the decision to stay inside as they were both limping towards their chairs; Vegard just rolled there directly on the chair from his office that he was already sitting on. 

Baard and Calle spent the lunch discussing the consequences of the kicks they both received and laughing at the other related events from the previous day. Magnus was just mostly listening, happy that he did not have to go through the ordeal himself, and laughing loudly with them. 

The only silent member of the lunch party was Vegard. This was very unusual, he was typically the one who talked the most. Normally, him being a bit silent for once would be a welcome, refreshing change to the other three, but combined with the misery and paleness written all over his face, it was clear that this was not a good sign. To try to involve him a bit and raise his spirits, Calle started what the three of them called an "aircraft chat mood fixing technique” - a strategy they used anytime they needed to improve Vegard’s mood and get some excitement out of him. Calle even started spitting clearly incorrect aircraft facts just to prompt Vegard to correct him and force some engagement, but nothing was successful.

“You look like shit, Vegard.”, Baard said finally.

“If you want me to look less like shit, don’t invite MMA fighters to kick us on the TV.”, Vegard replied, but there was no humour in his voice. 

Then he sighted and continued. “I just don’t know why it seems to be hurting me so much more than the two of you.” Ah, that’s it, Baard thought; that’s the reason, next to the pain obviously, why Vegad is so upset. Over the years they have worked together on TV, Vegard seemed to have learnt to deal with most of the derogatory comments he had been receiving very well, whether it was about him being clumsy, short, fat, nerdy or looking Turkish, but to this day, he still hated to be seen as weak and helpless.

“It did seem like he kicked you the hardest.”, Calle admitted.

“Which is what I especially don’t understand, since you -” Magnus continued, but Baard interrupted him right away with an intense look directed his way.

“It does not matter now anyway. Let’s get back to work.”. Baard knew that the last thing Vegard now needed to hear were comments about his size, implying that he indeed was weak and helpless. They left the table and went (and rolled) back to their offices.

The rest of the afternoon flew quickly. The musician arrived, and, fortunately, the sound of the accordion and making of music at least helped improve Vegard’s spirits sufficiently to make the afternoon more bearable for everyone involved. 

Right after the musician was gone, Vegard announced that he was going home. Baard turned, and right away, without a word, he stood up, took his coat and his car keys and indicated that he was ready, too.

It took a moment for Vegard to realise that Baard was intending to take him home by car. A wave of relief hit him that he did not even have to ask for such a favour from his little brother in front of everyone else. He just let out a silent “thanks” to which Baard replied with a simple head nod and a smile. 

The relief quickly disappeared when he realised he first had to make it all the way down to where Baard’s car was parked. He felt nauseous at the thought of having to put any weight on his leg again, and as a result turned even paler than he already was. But there was no way he was going to ask Baard or any from his friends for support really, the most of them were also still limping and Magnus would literally have to carry him in his arms if he were to help him - he was too tall for Vegard to put his arm around his neck for support.

Calle and Magnus both noticed Vegard’s unease and after telling the brothers to wait a few minutes, they emerged from the storage room with the wheelchair they used back during IKMY for their guest pranks. Vegard thought that a wheelchair was definitely a bit of an overkill, but in his current condition, even being carried on a stretcher would be more appealing than walking. In addition, since the wheelchair was well known around the building from the pranks, at least other people would not know that something was wrong and could only assume that the brothers were testing it again for another prank. They thanked Magnus and Calle and left.

The ride home was mostly silent. Baard felt a bit guilty for being responsible for a segment which ended up with his brother in such a state, and Vegard still felt a bit ashamed for being so heavily affected by something that the others could deal with so much easier. 

“You know that we do have a couple of meetings which we have to attend in person this week, right?” Baard said as they approached Vegard’s house.

Vegard just managed to let out a little “Hnngh”, hoping to put an end to that conversation for now, but Baard would not let go. “If the pain continues to be this bad, maybe you should go see a doctor?”. Vegard hated doctors, but having Baard actually talking to him about something this seriously, without any teasing or mockery, meant that he must have been even a little worried, and so Vegard was not going to dismiss it completely. “If it does not get better, yes… but I am sure it soon will.”.

…

It didn’t. When the follow-up messages of “Working from home today, sorry” arrived to Baard’s phone during the next two consecutive mornings, Baard knew Vegard would not go to the doctor without additional persuasion. He was getting truly concerned - the pain in his own leg was almost gone now, and the same for Calle, so if Vegard’s leg was still hurting as much that he could not walk, something was obviously very wrong. Maybe if he mentioned how it could potentially affect the show, his brother would be more reasonable? He called Vegard.

“We cannot delay the show because of your stupid leg. Go see a doctor. You have to be here tomorrow morning anyway for the meeting.”, Baard said.

“Then I still have time until tomorrow morning for it to get better.”, Vegard insisted.

“It will obviously not, don’t be stupid. Go to the doctor today.”

“Well, ok, I would, but Helene is gone with the kids, so she cannot take me today. Maybe the day after tomorrow then or next week?”

Baard was having none of this.

“If Helene is gone, then I am the one taking you to the doctor. Make an appointment and tell me when to pick you up. Now.”

“What?”

“You heard me well. Find a doctor and make an appointment NOW, or I will do even that for you." 

Vegard remained silent for a moment. He has never seen Baard behaving like this; this was always Vegard’s behaviour towards his little brothers instead.

"Is that silence a ‘no’ Vegard? Should I call my physio and ask him if he can make an appointment for my stubborn 40-year-old brother?" 

"No, no, ok, I will find someone." 

Baard was pleased with himself and made a mental note to do this more often. While it was not really something he would ever expect himself to do back to Vegard, it was a surprisingly effective persuasion method. In half an hour, Vegard messaged him to ask him to pick him up with a specific time and destination of the doctor’s office.

When Baard came to Vegard’s house, he was alarmed to find his brother looking equally as pale and miserable as he did the two days before that. He helped him jump on one leg to the car and felt bad for having to rush him to make it to the doctor on time. 

Only five minutes after coming to the waiting room, a physiotherapist appeared and called Vegard’s name. Vegard stood up onto his one working leg and started heading into the direction of the office. Baard felt a bit awkward; unsure as whether to follow or not. On one hand, going to the doctor’s office with your 40 year old brother together would seem crazy to most people; they were both grown up, independent adults. On the other, he was genuinely curious about the state of his brother’s leg and seeing how out of it Vegard was, he thought it would be a good idea for Vegard to have someone there who could actually be clear-headed and write things down. 

Having decided that he would join, he took the opportunity that Vegard clearly struggled to get to the office, so he stood up and allowed Vegard to use him as a support. 

"So, what did you do?”, The doctor asked while filling out the paperwork. 

“I think that might be pretty hard to explain… ” Vegard started, but the doctor interrupted him right away.

“Mr. Ylvisaaker, I know who you are and what you do. I have no expectations regarding what I am going to hear now.”

The brothers laughed. Baard, being responsible for what happened, spared his brother the duty of explaining, and described their little vegetable stunt. After the doctor stopped laughing, he instructed Vegard to lie down and remove his clothing. 

When Vegard put his pants down to show the physiotherapist the injury, Baard couldn’t believe what he saw. A dark, red area spread across the entire back-side of Vegard’s thigh. He himself wondered whether he had something similar on his own thigh after the kick; he has not really checked. He started to really question whether the stunt was worth it.

The doctor showed them the ultrasound pictures of the hematoma and prescribed Vegard crutches until further notice to aid healing. Vegard initially protested, but Baard knew that the protest was just a formality for Vegard to feel like he was acting manly, as Vegard knew very well that the crutches were necessary at this point. Only one question remained unanswered.

“How long…?” Baard asked.

“These hematomas are quite tricky. We can only accelerate the healing process by preventing additional strain and injury - which is why you have to use the crutches - but otherwise it is very individual. A hematoma of this size can take months to heal.”

They all remained silent for the moment. Vegard knew what it meant; it meant that the vacation Helene and the kids looked so much forward to would have to be cancelled. It also meant that a lot of the segments they were planning to film to make the show a bit more interesting would not happen. Filming action scenes with one man limping on crutches while he should be resting his leg was not an option, and would probably not be received well by the public. This entire show was already organized on the very last minute, and now it looked like even more would have to be figured out on the spot with so many ideas, some of which were already half-baked, discarded. 

Baard was thinking the same. But this time, he was the one in the role of the big brother and seeing how troubled Vegard looked over the entire prognosis, he returned him the little favour that Vegard always did for him - Baard looked at his older brother, smiled reassuringly and said, “that’s fine”.

They thanked the doctor, picked up the crutches from a pharmacy along with some creams and pain killers and went back to the car. They just sat there and allowed the news to sink in, including the consequences they were now going to face. Baard was the first one who started.

“You know… had I known that this would happen…”, Baard said, before Vegard interrupted him to tell him that he understands and is not angry about it. 

They drove back to Vegard’s place. Staring at the house, after a moment, Vegard looked at his brother with anxiety in his eyes. Neither of them talked, and yet an entire conversation seemed to have taken place. Baard just verbally concluded it with “Yes, I will talk to her. Though if I do, maybe I will end up in a worse condition than you are right now.”, Baard smiled and so did Vegard.

*****

End of submission.

Dearest anon, this was the most amazing surprise, thank you so much! And of course I posted this, everyone should have the chance to read this lovely fic. Because yes, I liked it a lot! It was very well written, had a good pace, lots of emotions, logical progression, believable dialogue, a little bit of humour, and a whole bucketful of brofeels. Absolutely loved it! And it definitely hit the spot for me, this is exactly what I was thinking about when I heard of the kicking and its consequences, so thank you for making a story out of it. Also, I’m very flattered that my scribblings could inspire you, thank you very much for the kind words. You should definitely write more if the urge strikes you, this was highly enjoyable :)

[chesshawkins]

intro ! ☼

⌠ KAWENNÁHERE DEVERY JACOBS, 22, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, FRANCESCA ‘CHESS’ HAWKINS! according to their records, they’re a FIRST year, specializing in UNDECIDED; and they DID NOT go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of ( worn leather jackets, dusty roads leading into the distance, bruised knuckles and a split lip, busy streets at night ). when it’s the ( taurus )’s birthday on 05/06/1998, they always request FRIED GREEN TOMATOES from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation. ⌿ lily, 19, she/her, gmt ⍀ ( @gallagherintro​ ) 

☼ CONNECTIONS PAGE ☼ PINTEREST ☼ ABOUT ☼ STATS ☼ BIOGRAPHY ☼

      here she is! after a long wait, i finally bring to u chess, my spunky runaway bisexual disaster with a healthy serving of abandonment and anger issues! she’s kind of baby, but also not at all, and i adore her. 

      here is her google doc, which explains her past in much more depth (and i highly recommend giving it a read!!), but for a more abbreviated version, read below!

character.

&. basics

full name: Francesca ‘Chess’ Hawkins

nicknames: Frankie (reserved for her mother and super close friends) 

age: 22

orientation: bisexual

relationship status: single

date of birth: may 6th, 1998

hometown: komatke/phoenix, arizona / richmond, va

gender: cisfemale

language(s) spoken: English, O’odham, Spanish

accent: general american

&. personality

mbti: INTJ

temperament: melancholic

star sign: taurus

element: earth

enneagram type: type 5, the investigator

five positive traits: resilient, self-sufficient, daring

five negative traits: reserved, untrusting, tactless

likes: vintage records, travel, spicy food, the smell of desert air, alcohol, the rush of adrenaline, getting high, chunky jewelry, cacti.

dislikes: hospitals, the police, mushrooms, authority, the color pink, the rain, people who chew gum, running, bugs.

bad habits: biting her nails, being too blunt, getting high/drunk too often, pushing herself too hard.

hobbies: making playlists, playing video games, film photography, boxing, riding her motorcycle.

fears: abandonment, hospitals, bugs.

story.

childhood:

chess grew up in her native community outside of arizona.

when she was eleven, her aunt, uncle, and cousin moved away after getting promoted, and chess’ parents followed suit and moved to phoenix to try and make it.

unfortunately, after only a year, they lost their jobs and were forced to trade their small apartment for a caravan in a trailer park outside the city.

chess was mocked and bullied at school for this, as well as the fact that she had an incredible memory and was able to outshine most of her classmates

when she turned fourteen, her parents simply gave up, and turned to drugs and alcohol, constantly ignoring and dismissing chess

one day in november, chess returned home to an entirely empty trailer, with a note on the fridge simply reading ‘there’s food in the freezer, back soon.’ 

they never came back.

in the three months of waiting for them and fending for herself, she began pickpocketing in central phoenix to make money

she discovered a talent for it, and in turn, a love for the adrenaline rush it brought her

this escalated to the point of snatching watches and jewelry

this unfortunately brought attention to her, and combined with the fact the trailer park manager hadn’t seen her parents in months, the police showed up at her doorstep

this forced her to go on the run and live on the streets of phoenix as a 16yr old girl

at some point, she got too cocky, and landed herself a two month stint in juvie when she broke the nose of the cop who tried to arrest her

when she was released, she ran again, this time to sedona

while there, she met aspen ( @aspenpalmer​ ) and it was seemingly love at first sight

the two of them travelled the country together, eventually ending up in new york

new york:

they ran into a gang of grifters and through them joined an underground fight club

she loved it, loved the thrill of it, and was happy with her life and her friends and her girlfriend

unfortunately, this is when things went south -

one night when chess was practicing alone, the police raided the place

chess was able to alert the others and they got away on time

when they brought chess in for questioning, she was offered a lighter sentence in exchange for the others’ names

chess, used to fending for herself and only having herself to rely on, gave them up to avoid a heavy sentence

once released from her month long sentence, she found another fight club from her old contacts and rejoined

this time, she pushed herself too hard, guilty for giving up her friends, and ending up seriously injuring herself

enter chess’ aunt, who managed to track her down when she was admitted to a hospital - her aunt turned out to be a successful ny lawyer, and also part time spy recruiter for agencies 

she brought chess back to her home in richmond and trained her alongside her cousin to get into gallagher

now:

at 22, chess’ aunt pulls some strings and gets chess enrolled at gallagher.

she’s not incredibly happy about it - hates the idea of it all, the uniforms, the end goal of working for the government, the classes, but she does it for her aunt

and it’s also her only prospect for the future

she also, unfortunately, will come face to face with aspen for the first time since the betrayal, so that’ll mess stuff up for her a little.

she’s a very abrasive person - she’s blunt, standoffish, and generally rather aggressive

this is a result of her fending for herself since she was 14

if you’re nice to her, she’ll def try to figure out what you want from her

she has an insanely accurate memory, and excels in recollection-based classes, but in other things she’s not so great

she’s a skilled fighter from her days in the ring, so be warned if you piss her off

she has undiagnosed ADHD so she struggles with focusing in classes

she really likes vintage things, like film photography and records, but that’s a recent discovery since living with her aunt

her style could be described as an edgier stevie nicks? think dark florals, ripped jeans, lots of chunky jewelry ( most of which is stolen, lbr ) and heavy boots

loves her music and her playlists, and if ur super close to her she’ll make u one :)

wanted connections.

family friend ― this person would have ties with chess’ aunt, and would have been asked to help chess integrate with the school and figure out her classes. could be excited to help her or angry about being saddled with a babysitting job, we can figure it out!

ray of sunshine ― since chess is a very quiet/reserved person, i can imagine someone trying to befriend and get to know her - chess is probably uncomfortable, but doesn’t want to hurt their feelings, so she tolerates them. possibly make chess open up to them over time?

instant dislike ― something happens where they just instantly don’t like each other. maybe your character is a bit of a snob and not happy that a thief/runaway is being trained at gallagher, maybe they got into a fight with her in the first few weeks.

misery loves company ― chess doesn’t want to be here, and can often be found sulking somewhere about it. maybe your character doesn’t either, or simply has their own issues and likes having someone to be grumpy with.

tutor ― chess needs help in her classes. while she’s generally really smart and has a great memory, she’s pretty undisciplined and needs help training. this connection could also help her figure out what major she wants to be.

ex’s friend ― so chess majorly betrayed aspen by giving her up to the cops, and if your character is close with aspen, they probably know what chess did and hate her for it. give me angst!

new york connections ― in a world of thieves and spies, there are bound to be a few crossed wires, so if your character was in new york (and potentially a criminal) roughly three/four years ago and would have known chess, lemme know!

arizona connections ― less likely, but if your character grew up/spent time in phoenix/sedona growing up/as a teenager, let me know!!

anything and everything ― i just want a bunch of connections so if you have any ideas, please let me know!

please hit me up to plot ! i want all sorts of connections !