#sixties french ye ye

[ludmilachaibemachado]

Françoise Hardy photographed by Vitoriano in Sweden, 1963🥀🌻

Via @jadorefrancoisehardy on Instagram🥀

[copperbadge]

Europeans, I have some questions.

Do you know what ambrosia salad is?

If so, is the version you know of a) a normal salad or b) a "dessert" salad?

Do you know what Dirt Cake is?

If so, is that common knowledge in your region?

(What country/region do you live in, other context you wish to add, etc)

I'm working on the new Shivadh novel and I underestimated the comedic potential of Simon, a classically trained French chef who has been cooking for European nobility for thirty years, trying to set a menu for a graduation party with Noah, your average American teenaged garbage disposal, and Eddie, who is literally based on Guy Fieri. Reminds me of the bit in Infinite Jes where Michaelis mentions that Eddie and Gerald had him judge a debate about Hot Pockets and then confesses he doesn't actually know what they are.

(Context for the end of the snippet -- Hugo and Gwen are Simon's brother and sister-in-law, Claude is his young nephew.)

"Huh, okay, so are we doing like a salad theme?" 

"How do you mean?" Noah asked.

"Oh, just, you've got a potato salad and a pasta salad. I'd suggest a Jello salad for dessert but..." Eddie broke off at Alanna's horrified look. "That is what you will see on everyone's face," he said to Noah, pointing at Alanna. 

"Not so, I could do an aspic," Simon protested. "Sweet or savory, very traditional -- not this nonsense from American cookbooks from sixty years ago."

"American nonsense is kinda my brand," Noah pointed out. "Uh, I don't think we realized we were building a giant salad course but I am into that, actually. I'd like to discuss the Jello Salad," he said, and Eddie crowed delightedly while Alanna blanched, so Simon had to mediate a good-natured but extensive debate about gelatin in sweet dessert salads. 

It was an education; when he showed Hugo and Gwen what Americans thought ambrosia salad was, later, their horror was gratifying. It was a fitting prelude to his next exhibit, the Dirt Cake pudding cup, which made Hugo pretend to faint but -- even better -- fascinated little Claude so much that he insisted he wanted them instead of a cake for his next birthday. 

"He'll forget by the time the birthday arrives," Simon assured Hugo, who pretended to mop a sweaty brow. "And if he doesn't, I can elevate this. A light coffee mousse with chocolate biscuits -- drizzle with a sweet wine reduction -- jellied candy flavored with dragonfruit and blackcurrant."

"Can we put bones in the dirt?" Claude asked, already exploring his terrible American dessert options on his tablet. 

"Not human," Gwen said hurriedly. "That's a bridge too far for a birthday party, my darling," she told Claude. 

"Dinosaur bones?" Claude asked hopefully. Gwen and Hugo both looked at Simon. 

"Meringue, or marzipan," Simon pronounced. "Yes, that could be done. Well, my little gravedigger, we will see," he told Claude, tousling his hair.

[heartfullofleeches]

Fast food reader having a yandere manager/boss??

What type of shenanigans do they get to and why do I picture the yan manager calling in the reader to their office and when the reader comes in the manager is laying on their desk in a certain "draw me like one of your french girls" pose with a rose in their mouth??

Oh God. Please not today. Standing stationary at your post, you dread the upcoming encounter with the customers next in line. The duo whisper loudly to each other, one nudging the other as they glance over in your direction. You pick up some words of encouragement over the conversation you're currently involved in and are fairly certain the piece of paper in their hand is signed with a heart. Why do so many people think this is a good idea? You hand the customer their change and ponder whether it's too late to switch to retail as the next guests approach. The one holding the note goes first. They slide it across the counter.

"Hey, uh, I've seen you in here during my lunch breaks and was wondering if yo-"

"I'm gonna stop you right there. You're not even the fifth person who's given me their number this week. I'm not sure if you're one of the normal one or the kind who tries to stuff me in their car after I get off, but either way you should probably leave before my boss comes."

The customer looks dejected, but their friend steps in. "You didn't have to be such an ass about it."

"I'm only trying to warn you, and save myself the headache. They polish a hunting rifle in their office with the door wide open and I'm about sixty percent sure majority of the people on the missing persons board are the ones from this exact scenario. I'd ask if you want to order anything, but you should probably just leave. They're always watching the cameras."

"Gooood afternoon."

Well- You'll be able to sleep tonight knowing you did your best.

"I was just checking in on things, and happened to notice the line forming behind the two wastes of space who decided to harrass my favorite employee."

One of customers opens their mouth to speak, but your boss quickly shuts them down."

"Mmm, yeah, sorry- I hear you, but to be honest I don't really care. Here at this establishment, we always strive for customer satisfaction, but employee safety is the most important thing and to bother our most valued member means I don't have to abide by any rules. Moral or otherwise. Kindly get the fuck out of my store before I make you crawl out."

"I'll take this." Your Boss picks up the slip of paper and gives them their best customer service smile. "Have a nice day!"

That smile becomes just a tad genuine as the customers bolt for the door. Your boss turns to you, pulling you from your focus on the cash register as they check you for any damages. Besides the beginning of bags under your eyes, you're relatively okay. Their shoulders finally relax seeing you unharmed."

"Good. In perfect condition like always." They gently pat your cheek. "My office. Ten minutes. Don't worry about the ones you can get to."

Stocking shelves can't be much worse than this, right?

The ten minutes go by in what feels like ten seconds. The door is wide open when you arrive. Your boss has already added the note to their collection in a jar on their desk, a red line through the pages you could see. Your picture hangs on the wall in multiple frames marking you as employee of the month for years with no competition. According to coworkers, that award didn't even exist before you were hired.

You knock on the door frame. Your boss lifts their feet off the desk and shoves them underneath it along with their aforementioned weapon. They sweep the surface clean with the same rag they used to clean it as you approach and politely folds their hands as you take your seat.

"Y/n, what a pleasant surprise! What brings you to my cozy neck of the woods?"

"You called me here."

"Well - yes, but I like to think we're closer than that. Like family. Heads of the household if you will. I understand most of your time here has been manning the register, but with all this attention you've been getting I think we should move you somewhere else. I'm not jealous or anything..."

They crack a guilty smile." Well, maybe a smidge, but this is mostly for your own good. Something like keeping eye on the stock or working the fryers... Maybe even something as simple as, oh I don't know- coming home with me and letting me take care of your every need."

You think over your choices. That cafe down the street is probably hiring.

[sehunniepotwrites]

RISK IT ALL | L.HC (teaser)

read the full fic here!

SYNOPSIS. In theory, playing a card game called Risk It or Drink It during your holiday kickback sounded fun. In reality, it was your group’s wild plot scheme for you and your close friend, Donghyuck, to finally get yourselves together in more ways than one. 

PAIRING. Lee Donghyuck x fem!Reader GENRE. Friends-to-Lovers!AU, Holiday!AU, Christmas!AU, Party!AU, comedy, smut (minors dni!) WORD COUNT. (teaser) 673, full fic estimate ~7k

WARNINGS. original character (Ari), language (crude sexual jokes, talks about sex positions, and profanities), alcohol and food consumption, adult drinking games with dares, explicit content (fingering, oral/sixty-nine, nipple play, praise, penetrative, missionary, etc.), nicknames (princess),  will add more once they come up! PLAYLIST. Up to You - PRETTYMUCH feat. NCT Dream

DISCLAIMER. This is work of fiction. I do not own the people/characters or concepts I have written about. You cannot translate or copy my work. © sehunniepotwrites, 2023

The moment you pulled the card, Donghyuck shifted his head to read the card with you. His body began to shake with laughter as the rest of your crew rushed you to reveal the dare. God, you were not drunk enough for this. He grabbed the paper out of your fingers and took the liberties of saying the dare, “Hold a piece of food in your mouth and have the person on your right,” he paused, grazing his soft fingers on your bare knee, “that’s me, princess—”

“Yes, I know my rights from lefts, Hyuck,” you interrupted him.

“—and have them take it from you.”

“I’m picking the piece of food you use and don’t you dare complain!” Ari yelled before anyone else could claim the job. Everyone watched as she stifled through a plate of French fries. Her playful grin expanded across her pretty face when she found the perfect fry—a thin, crispy piece that was around an inch long. The group exploded with excitement as she held it up. 

“That,” you pointed to the fry in your friend’s hand, “cannot be legal. That has to be against the rules!”

Jaemin pretended to examine the fry his girlfriend was holding. “Hmm, looks fine to me.”

“You’re a menace, Jaem,” you hissed at him.

Jaemin came right back, “Just doing what has to be done to take us out of our misery.”

With everything already set, you resigned to your friend’s wishes and begrudgingly accepted the dare. Ari handed you the tiny piece of food and you sighed dramatically before placing it between your teeth. It barely extended past your top and bottom lip. You shot Donghyuck a widened look, telling him to hurry. If you were to prolong this dare any longer, you were afraid of the fry breaking in your hold before he’d get to it. 

You stood still as Donghyuck approached with a smug look. It disappeared as soon as his eyes dropped to the french fry you held, lingering at the sight of your parted mouth. When he looked back up at you, there was a sort of look in the brown irises you were so attracted to. Hunger. Anticipation. 

“Lean in,” someone shouted but you couldn’t. 

Swallowing back your nervousness, his two warm hands touched your face, both molding to your cheeks. Shutting your eyes as he grew closer, the last thing you saw was his handsome face tilting to get a better angle. Donghyuck’s actions were lightning quick and sudden, making your heart beat skyrocket towards the moon. His breath tickled your skin and then, his lips brushed ever so gently against yours. It didn’t last too long; after all, his goal was to retrieve the french fry. You did your best to focus on that, remembering not to bite down to break the crunchy strip of food–the task at hand was hard but not impossible.

Then, there was a slight pressure, the plushness of his lips pushing into you as Donghyuck bit, tugging the food out of your mouth. 

Still frozen in your spot, you sensed Donghyuck pulling back. You exhaled through your nostrils and slowly opened your eyes. Your best friend was right in front of you, wearing a smirk as he chewed on the fry. He licked around his mouth, gathering the tiny dusts of salt before humming. “Salty,” was all he said while everyone surrounding  you laughed at his antics.

Ignoring the hammering of your heart as he continued to stare at your lips, you cleared your throat. As much as you tried to shove all feelings of attraction aside, Donghyuck kept his sultry gaze fixated on you. You watched as it dipped back down to your lips again, his fingers coming up to brush away the little specks of salt that stuck your mouth. Everything was too much for you–the warmth of his touch, the intensity of his stare, the looks the others were giving you–it was time to direct everyone’s attention elsewhere.

 “Next dare,” you called out, facing away from Donghyuck.

AUTHOR'S NOTE. Hi all! I'm back with a (shorter) one-shot! This Haechan brainrot has been sitting in my drafts since September. I was inspired by a hilarious but somewhat crude drinking game I played with my friends a while back. It's been a minute since I've written something with a lot of tension/smut but please let me know what you think. I've been obsessing over Haechan crying over Mark in the latest youtube contents that were released, so if you see some familiar lines, no you didn't <3

TAGLIST. @nctsworld @johtenrecs @emmybyeakitty @sokkigarden @hyuckworld @baekhyuns-lipchain @yutaholic-main @moonctzeny @suhrocs @smileysuh

tagging my usual friends <3 let me know if you would like to be added!

© sehunniepotwrites, 2023

[tryin2writehere]

Gentlemen Fanfic (Eddie x Susie)

PEOPLE IN GLASS HOUSES

1

Susie Glass’s layers rivaled an onion, but with hardened surfaces like the earth’s own fucking mantle. A polished design of layered wools, tweed, velvets and silks, as though they could literally armor her against a consistent onslaught of fatuity-prone workmates. Eddie spent long moments dealing devilish ideas of unfurling her from these layers. He often soothed himself with the notion that a personal union could be possible without imploding their professional partnership.

 

He found himself seeking signs like a meteorologist to predict her temperature, (cooly aloof with a sixty percent chance of snark.) When she warmed, and her eyes revealed a playful gleam, it could set him on the edge of reason.

Like he called her forth with desire alone, the outline of her body emanated on the decorative glass frame of his study. Before she was even fully in the room, he smiled, “Hello Susan.”

“Evening Edward,” she returned and sashayed across the room in a perfectly tailored blue plaid suit he’d never seen. She planted herself in a chair across from Eddie. 

The low light glinted off the amber bourbon Eddie poured into baccarat tumblers, “did you hear back from Brussels?”

“Our Belgian friends have a different timeline in mind and no sense of urgency. I reckon we’ll hear sometime next week.”

“Do you speak any Flemish?” The most successful way, he found, to get to know Susie Glass, was micro-information obtained in seemingly innocuous questions.  That and surviving nazi twat machine-gun fire.  

“Very little.  Mostly vulgarities, really.  I get by with French.  You?”

“Not a word,” he rounded his desk, sat on the edge, and handed her the drink, eyeing her on-business demeanor. 

She sipped, looking up at him through thick eyelashes and fringe, and his chest tightened slightly.

“Jack is doing well?”

Her countenance visibly lightened with her brother’s name, her azure eyes suddenly balmy, “he is indeed. Fortuitous you mentioning him.”

“How so?”

“I’ve a meeting tomorrow afternoon with an unpleasant but necessary gym owner. Thought you might like to join me.”

“I would like to join you, yes.  A gym owner?”

“I’m looking to acquire a few more locations.”

“For Jack?”

“He isn’t ready to train, and I need to keep him busy, keep his mind occupied while he’s recovering.  GlassKnuckle is a fine place, but his pride…he needs a bit of a fresh start. He’d be a good coach really,” she paused and smirked. “He’d be a shit awful manager, but I can outsource that to a degree. It’s the only environment I reckon will keep him contented until he can train again.”

Eddie nearly asked if fighting again was even a realistic possibility, but thought better of it.  He didn’t want to squash the hopeful glimmer in her eyes or again draw attention to his own culpability in Jack’s condition.

Instead he asked, “who is this unpleasant Gym Owner?”

“Sugar Walsh.  He owns three locations, and rumours abound he’s looking to unload them and retire.”

“What time tomorrow?”

“Two o’clock. You available then?”

“I’m not, unfortunately. I’m taking Chuckles and Junior to the doctor.”

“The doctor?” she leaned forward in concern.

“Just a scheduled check-up for the baby, but she asked me -“

“Of course,” she nodded, “you’re a good brother.”

“Mm. Yes, I try. Can we reschedule?”

“Had better not. As I said, he’s unpleasant as it is.”

She stared into her drink, her posture stiffening slightly, her body weighted again with some unknown problem-to-be-solved.

“Susie?”

She glanced up at him.

“Is there something -”

“- nothing I can’t handle,” she blinked softly.

“Of course,” he nodded again. “We should return around four pm tomorrow; would you like to have dinner with me, and we can discuss some overdue security upgrades?” 

“Dinner with the Duke of Halstead.  What shall I wear?”

“Something blue.  Compliments your eyes.”

“Hm. Blue it is.” She swallowed the last of her drink and was gone before he could conjure a chaste enough reason for her to stay.

[firewalkzwit]

in the mood for love // neil lewis x reader

To accept that life is not David Lynch's magnificent "Blue Velvet", or much less Billy Wilder's "Double Indemnity", was not an easy thing for a man like Neil Lewis, who adored nothing more than to vicariously live through the screen time of the 50's Hollywood heartthrobs that starred as his favourite characters.

So, in the event that a Rohmerian woman whose quirk could even be seen through her yellow lens Godard-ish sunglasses, Neil found it to be an offer he couldn't refuse.

Word count: 2.8k

Cross-posted on AO3

A.N: i actually never finished watching the detectives bc i was honestly not a fan of the plot so bare with me lol, i was only too in love w cill and lucy liu's characters but the movie itself kinda disappointed me

also, yes i made them fans of MY favorite movies, arrest me.

The sound of intense tapping of nails on the counter, crowded by a disastrous attempt at organising countless VHS tapes scattered all over it, caused the plastic of the films to rattle as the table vibrated. Neil's tired eyes rolled upwards to catch a glimpse of the face before him, a slight frown drawn between her eyebrows and an intensely inquisitive stare which hardly helped him to decipher what exactly she wanted that actually merited bothering him.

The harsh placement of the VHS on his desk caused him to grit his teeth, it felt almost imperative, and it ached him to see his most prized possessions be mistreated. His eyes drifted back up to her, the yellow-tinted lens of her sunglasses still didn't stop him from finding them oddly familiar. Scanning to the rest of her clothes as if he wanted to glimpse her personality based on her looks, he felt like a detective. The black minidress on her body was rather loose, and the sleeves ended close to the start of her wrists, as if it was too short for her arms. It seemed like an intentional fashion choice, despite how unflattering it looked to him. The dress hugged her waist in the centre, with a peculiar silver belt he'd only see in the outfit of a woman in a nouvelle vague film. In fact, her entire style seemed to be the one of a sixties Parisian flâneur, as if she was ruthlessly trying to imitate Anna Karina. Over the turtleneck that culminated her dress, a thin, long golden chain that went as low as her belt had a large and round golden pendant hanging from it.

But as soon as she spoke he was disappointed to find no thick, sexy french accent, but rather an ordinary speech, almost too friendly and passive to be attractive. His eyes drifted down to the VHS on his desk; while he expected Vivre Sa Vie, le Bonheur or Pierrot le Fou, there was no La Collectionneuse on his desk, but rather the most unexpected of outcomes.

Jane Birkin would never rent a chick-flick, Neil thought.

The membership she handed did not belong to her, it was that of a man's, an old one too, judging by his name.

"Alright, that will be eight dollars."

"Jeez, eight?"

"Eight."

"You do know the other rental charges only five, right?"

"I was not aware, thank you." Not only was she of poor taste, but also quite irritating. Even though he refrained from explaining how being a smaller business practically obliged him to charge more to make an actual profit, it was before he could begin to explain the late fees that she snatched the VHS from his hand.

"I'm actually going to keep looking." And just like that, she turned and began to walk slightly bent over, looking at the orange labels that hung on the shelves. Curiosity consumed him, and he also felt it his duty as the owner of the videoclub to assist his customers in making a choice.

"Are you looking for something in particular?"

"Well... What do you have with Robert De Niro?" Neil's eyes suddenly lit up, as if her personality had a chance at salvation the moment those words came out of her mouth.

"Most of his works, there's his classics like Goodfellas, Taxi Driver... I even have Heat if you're looking for something more thrilling."

"Heat?"

"Heat is one of the most critically acclaimed nineties crime dramas. It also stars Al Pacino, it's this kinda' cop and criminal trope but so realistically achieved, even the sound of firearms is claimed to be one of the most realistic in the history of film-"

"I'll just take that one." The tip of her finger slowly grazed his as she gently took the Heat VHS from his hands, a friendly awkward grin displaying discomfort. "It's just for my dad."

"Oh... Sixteen Candles' for you I guess." A soft nasal laugh left her body as her head tilted down, shaking in denial.

"No, that's for my dad too." Ok, weird, but by then she had undeniably picked his curiosity.

"Nothing for you then?"

"I prefer a cheaper rental, this is my dad's membership." As if he couldn't see for himself that such a name would never belong to her, it could only be that of an old geezer who he still struggled to recognise even though he was a member. And even though she intended to make a subtle comment, it did not come off that way.

"Oh yeah? And what do you rent in the cheaper club?" Media Giant could have a wider offer and lower prices, but Neil assumed it wasn't a real loss if the clientele consisted of girls like her.

"I like French movies, Harmony Korine, seventies giallos... Why, you want me to rent them from you instead?" While her first pick was particularly predictable, Italian giallos were a genre he was interested in exploring, and of which he hardly had any in his extensive collection. Neil shrugged almost dramatically, trying to incite her to take yet another pick.

"It wouldn't hurt your dad. Except for the giallo part, ‘can't help you there."

"You mean you have no giallos here?" His face deformed into an awkward pout, as if he'd been defeated in his own ground. "You look like the type of guy to own them on Criterion."

"I don't think so, no." By that point, the humiliation of her light cackle upsetted and confused him even further, returning her change as she piled up the tapes.

"If you ever want to watch a good Dario Argento movie, you let me know when I return you these." And marking her goodbye with a soft grin that slightly lifted the sunglasses that rested above her cheeks, Neil was taken aback beyond speech. Was it a date? Was she joking? He couldn't quite understand, and so couldn't come up with a proper response.

But seven days passed before she returned, and he would have to charge her the late fees that added to the sixteen dollars. However, in the course of those five days Neil hardly remembered her, briefly making a comment about it to his friends. Neil was not the type of man to stress easily, and he was exercising his peace that particular afternoon as he watched the director's cut of Psycho, to him a movie that truly never got old. He snacked on the couch in a slobby posture, his limbs spread over it without a care about presentation. It was not the type of day for him to expect too many customers, and it was too hot to go outside anyway. Hardly did he ever struggle to find an excuse to stay in anyway, so when he heard the doorknob pushed down his expression shifted into a displeased grimace. His eyes peered over the backrest, displeased to find that someone had indeed come in.

As he got up and stretched, mindfully appearing to be homeless, he caught a glimpse of her again. Her head was tilted and on her hands were the two tapes she had borrowed. He was surprised to have even forgotten that he'd rented her the films, usually being more attentive about what went in and out of his club. Probably the bizarre interaction had caused him to forget. That time she wore a tiny pair of black shorts with black stockings up the knees and also black, sharp-pointed flats. The usual thick, high-waisted belt accompanied a loose sage blouse, which was accessorised with elongated collars of various unique beads, and the peculiar yellow-tinted shades. Not that Neil cared at all about fashion, nor did he understand it, but he assumed she was going for chic.

"Sorry for not coming by sooner, hope you didn't miss these." She placed the tapes on the counter and quickly began looking through her pockets for the money she assumed she'd have to pay for being two days late. Before he could tell her how much extra she owed, she placed the four dollars on top of the movies.

"How'd you know how much..." Neil's finger drew a circle above the tapes and the money, as if she was some sort of genie or simply gambling with how much he'd charge compared to his prime competitor.

"My dad." She quickly interrupted, offering him her usual small grin of politeness before making her way out. Yet by that point Neil wasn't oblivious to her previous invitation, overwhelmed by the curiosity her strange looks provoked him.

"Is... the offer for that Dario Argento still up?" He could tell she was smiling through the way her cheeks lifted, visible from behind, and the way her voice sounded. When people smile and talk, their voice accommodates to the wider lips and sound friendlier.

"Glad you asked."

It was by that point that the old-Hollywood mystery enthusiast Neil and the French new-wave, foreign murder-thriller enjoyer Y/N frequented each other in what consisted of visits to the Gumshoe Video and her place. In contrast to his original impression of her, she was quite the film collector, owning a perfect shrine that ranged from art house Kino Lorber films to a wide range of classics on Criterion. She was truly well stocked. The only thing obvious to him from the start was that she was a great enthusiast of foreign films, something she even gave away in the unique way she dressed.

She was also an occasional actress, kindly starring in the indie projects of some of her film geek friends, many who shockingly knew Neil as well. It was natural for them to have so many people in common, especially because people with mutual interests were bound to come across each other in such a small town, however he was surprised to not have seen her previously roaming around or in any of his friends' films. She had a look that just gave away she'd be into acting, the role of a muse seemed to fit her character perfectly.

Because of this, as soon as Neil began to grow an interest in impressing her, she was surprised to hear he wanted to try and film an experimental short, try his luck at producing something beyond an advertising trailer for his videoclub, something more artistic.

Obviously he invited her to star in it, and even though he'd expected her to jump in his arms in excitement, never did she show herself to be shocked or taken aback by any of the bizarre propositions he had in mind. Neil wasn't very knowledgeable or even interested in the world that existed beneath experimental indie films, but she seemed to be willing to comply with the various shots of strange ideas he sketched frantically in strangely-drawn frames.

When it was finally time to shoot, it was clear that the whole tape would be very rudimentary, using the 35mm film gauge she had offered to lend him, demanding that he treat her camera with extreme care.

Despite Neil's attempts of disclosing what exactly he had in mind, rough sketches were clearly not enough, as the minute they began to shoot and the scenes began to come to life, it became too clear to her that Neil just wanted to see her naked, behaving like a conceited filmographer in poor attempts of masking his amateurism. It was hard to imagine senior film-makers like Jean-Luc Godard, especially the favourites of Y/N, and the thousands of breast and butt-naked women takes they had witnessed being filmed in their lifetime. Neil found it hard to imagine them behaving with naturality, but then again he assumed it was the only way to behave if they were actually in search of pristine shots.

"You don't seem to be taking this too seriously." She finally scolded, her forearm hugging her chest to cover her breasts once Neil cut the cameras.

"What do you mean? I'm directing here."

"You're wasting film in countless shots of my tits, what message are you trying to convey?" Interrogation was not on his plans, especially because Neil expected artistic and abstract film to not be questioned, but rather merely interpreted.

"It's about... the beauty of the raw human body." His tone didn't project confidence, and Y/N could tell he was feeding her bull-shit.

"Okay, then I'll film you too."

"Sorry, what?"

"It's not the human body if you also don't see the male." He didn't seem too convinced, obviously it was far more amusing to simply watch than to have to partake. "You and all these film-makers are so open minded when it comes to seeing women, but there's still a taboo for the male body." Neil couldn't find in him the interest to follow her idea. Obviously she had a valid point, but he was never the type to pay attention to the underlying message behind highly interpretable films, rather driven to puzzling movies where connecting the dots until the end was the reason to get his brain working.

However, how could he disagree? By that point it couldn't get more intimate than that, and a sudden high of confidence invaded him and prompted him to begin to undress himself. He began by his shirt, clumsily taking it off and visibly embarrassed. As he begins to rid himself from his pants and underwear, feeling the lens of the camera stare at him probingly, the desire to turn back strikes him to his core. He finally stands there, exposed and naked. He tries to look defiant and confident, but he's achingly vulnerable.

The camera is delighted with his expressions, and his body is posed like he wants to bend inwards and disappear into the air, but just when the filming of his most exposed self seems to never end, the camera lowers and his eyes meet with hers, and her own naked body too.

The naturality with which she accepted being in the spotlight seemed to indicate it was not the first time she filmed something of the sort, and Neil began to wonder who exactly had been gifted with pioneering in such a scene. He, on the other hand, was awkward and hardly artistic, his skinny body and shaky blue eyes screaming how out of place he felt.

"Do you think that's good enough?"

"Yes, I can't keep lending you more film anyway."

"That was... something." As she sat on the floor naked, her back arched sideways and her legs to her left as her arm supported the body, displaying total relaxation. Meanwhile, he couldn't wait for her permission to get back dressed, staring at her clothes as he waited for her to pick them up and imply she could do the same.

"It's a great thing when you realise you still have the ability to surprise yourself. Makes you wonder what else you can do that you've forgotten about."

"American Beauty?"

"Yes." In a way, the scene did share odd similarities to the American classic. The filming of odd, regular things and their naked bodies, Neil was bound to expect what would come next would follow as in the movie. He slowly crouched and sat before her, the two sharing brief stares that felt like a lifetime. Her gaze was soft and mellow, contagiously transmitting her tranquillity to his own as he pondered on whether to make a move or not.

By that point it was obvious they were not going to leave that room without something happening before, but the decision of who would initiate the contact seemed to be difficult as the longest minute of their lives passed by them.

So when she finally accommodated her posture and began to lean closer to him, he crawled her way progressing from soft and careful movements to pounding her against the floor. The sound of bone against the wooden floor caused them both to wince, her face wrinkling in a frown of pain. It was before she could hold her head to stroke herself that his own hand slid down from her temple to the back of her head, holding her up to finally kiss her.

The kiss was long, and the sound of their lips engaging in humid contact as their tongues went in and out of each other's mouth echoed across the empty room, Neil's free hand travelling from her navel to her breast as her arms wrapped around his slender body. Her legs followed the motion, soon making her look like she hung from him, clinged to his back as he arched to reach closer to her. Her gaze ogled from the corner of her eye in search of the camera as her arm reached out, finally being released from his grip to set up and continue to film themselves, a prime example of human beauty in its most raw expression.

Needless to say that beyond physical pleasure, it was an intellectual disappointment for the two that despite their love for film, they still couldn't make sex look and feel like a scene from Body Heat, sexiness was greatly rehearsed after all.

this sucks ass i just wanted to write filmbro cillian murphy and yap about my favorite movies tbhngl

[pensocks]

i really don't normally do these things but i've been starting to feel just a teensy bit guilty about not being the sappy type lol and i got this urge at 1 am this morning while in a coffee-driven all-nighter and decided fuck it (this is a repeating factor in decisions i make. send help.)

so here's a small lil list of amazing people i'm genuinely overjoyed to be friends or even just moots with <3

yes im copying brookie bite me /silly

stuff under cut cuz this is gonna be long lol

@mischiefburns - my darling husband first of course !! <3 half joking marriage aside i'd say you're one of my closest friends - even if we've only known each other for just a few months. you're just the right amount of gentle and still know when to put your foot (er, claw-bug-thing) down, and i admire that about you. you know when to stop when boundaries are set up and to not push those, and you're not afraid to enforce your own, something i constantly fail to do (• ▽ •;) i love how open you are about yourself and how caring you care <3 ilysm !! mmmmwah :3 (im trying to get better at regretevator i promise)

@bluginkgo - first things first if you disagree with anything here i will punt you. (/silly /hj) you're so endearing, and your little emoticons never fail to make me smile. the message you sent me the other week really helped a lot, and your reaction spamming when i post art really does help with my motivation !! you're one of the most wholesome people i've ever met, and when your discord pfp changes to your sona with a bandaged leg i get worried for you. i love seeing your discussions in the nuzi server or your art popping up on my dash because HOLY SHIT YOU'RE GIFTED I TELL YOU !!!! like your nuzi fankid exploded my final 0.3 braincells i have left in the absolute best way but i'll save that speech for another time <3

@noridoorman - HIIIII MOM >:3 (i hope this tag is ok!! lmk if it's not <3) you're literally the second person i thought of when writing the idea down for this fhsfeesfigr. i love hanging out with you in VC and watching your stream or you drawing or listening to you and doomed voice ace attorney and you threatening to throw certain people (brookie and blu specifically) out windows or grab them by the scruff is literally the highlight of my day and never fails to make me laugh. you're so kind and funny and i'm sorry i can't share your love of k-pop 😔 (/silly) TRYING TO CATCH UP ON CINNAMON SCENT TOO BUT THE ADHD IS LIKE NUH UH </33

@brookiedaaroacecookie - im claiming you and miko as my siblings we can be triplets (/hj /nf) BUT SERIOUSLY THO i view you as my younger sibling and i love hanging out with you <3 you officiating mischief and mine's (GRR OFC IT WAS REAL /silly) wedding will forever be a memory i'll keep and tell to my grandkids in sixty something years or something like that idfk. i still have your little tag thing screenshotted and i'm sorry i can't tell the difference between french toast and grilled cheese </3 (/silly) also whats keats and why do you always laugh at it or was that an autocorrect thing /silly but also /gq

@spinnydraws - DFUHERFGRGIE I KNOW WE'VE ONLY BEEN MOOTS FOR LIKE. A WEEK AND A HALF OR SOMETHING IDK. BUT. HEAR ME OUT. already i view you as a friend and i'm extremely grateful to be moots with you! you're extremely funny and kind, and when you like or reblog my art i ascend to heaven. everytime i see your art i explode all over again even if i've already exploded not five minutes ago. AND WHY ARE YOU LITERALLY SO N. LITERALLY. WAHT. (/vpos) BUT LIKE. honestly you're a big comfort of mine already (i have a problem of wanting to be besties with literally every n kinnie out there. uzi kintype noises.) and i'd love to get to know you more !! <3

@nuzilicious - i refuse to give up trying to make you undislike me. until then all u get is ur awesome and im extremely thankful u havent blocked and banned me!!!!!! /silly /j

@uzibrainrot - omg what do i even say. you're so wholesome and so goofy and i loved roleplaying md with you on roblox even if it was just for a bit and if you wanna do it again sometime i'd absolutely love to!!!! i know we don't interact much but when we do it's awesome !! i promise the art trade is almost done i promise promise promise shhdshjdshfh. ALSO WHEN YOU WANNA WORK ON THAT VOLL CRACKFIC TOGETHER LMK!!! :DDD!!

i would @ andy but idk his tumblr so um. andy if you see this, you're not only one of the kindest most woke and most funny beings on this planet (i've never seen a cishet guy do a colon three it's literally so funny HELP /lhj /gen), but also a mind-blowingly awesome mc player !! :DD

ok i must disappear into the void to take care of my cramps (ew) so im gonna die now but ily all sm and hope you're all doing MORE than great !!! :DD!!!!! (/p /gen) explodes and dies in the grand canyon. or something. idk i need to stop exploding.

[five-rivers]

Ancestral Chapter 17

Written for day 1 of Ectoberhaunt's isekai weekend! Ignore how far past midnight we are, okay?

.

Sleep all too often came with dreams.  That was probably why none of them had really wanted to go to bed.  

Along with the anxiety, the revelations, the threat to all of their lives, etcetera, etcetera.  No one was really counting all that.  Much.  

Danny dreamed.  He knew he dreamed.  

Well.  Sort of.  This was really more of a nightmare.  Even though nothing bad had happened yet, the whole atmosphere of the classroom was steeped in unease and tension.  

"Ryv is one of the few Avlynyse words borrowed directly from French, without first passing through English," said Mr. Lancer, as he wrote on the board in Esperanto.  "Most likely due to the popularity of Marie Thérèse of France, who married Prince Alyn, later King Alyn, in sixteen eighty-eight pursuant to the agreement of marriage negotiated when she was five between her father, the Sun King, and Dr. Kahysy Wyrtmyn Royne Tyronoé, when the later saved her from dying of consumption.  Yes, Mr. Fenton, this will be on the test.”

“I didn’t say anything,” said Danny.  

“Queen Marie Thérèse was often quoted as saying ‘Parfois, j’ai l’impression que ma vie ici n’est qu’un beau rêve’ or ‘Sometimes I feel as if my life here is nothing but a beautiful dream.’”

“You don’t even speak French,” said Danny, despairingly.  

“Compare and contrast ryv with the thirteen other common Avlynyse terms for dream, such as ayslyn, traym, and revo.”

“That last one isn’t even Avlynyse,” protested Danny.  “It’s Esperanto.  You’re writing in Esperanto.  I don’t think you know that, either.”

“Compare and contrast King Georg Gyvry’s attempts to acquire royal spouses for his children, thereby securing alliances and diplomatic ties, with Queen Arynryd’s foundation of the School of Heroes.”

Danny stood up.  He couldn’t take any more of this.  He felt like his heart was about to beat out of his chest, and all that was happening was Mr. Lancer giving a lecture on Avlynyse history.  And getting things wrong, but that wasn’t really relevant.  

“Mr. Fenton, this will be on the test.”

“What test?” asked Danny.  “This is a dream.”

“But you have to pass,” said Mr. Lancer, not looking away from the blackboard.  “You have to pass.  This will be on the trial.”

“What?” asked Danny, unable to help himself.  

“You have to pass the Trials.  Dr. Kahysy Wyrtmyn Royne Tyronoé was born in Royn on the Island of Tyrono, to the herbalists Byryta and Yud Wyrtmyn, also of Royn.  He was later sponsored by a client of theirs, Dr. Uwyn Font, to attend Argyntyn College.  While there, his ideas were instrumental to the resolution of the sixteen sixty-nine Argyntyn Cholera epidemic, and he was inducted to the School of Heroes.”

Danny turned away.  He already knew all of this.  Except where it was wrong, which was annoying.  He hated it when his dreams were wrong, especially when they’d be so interesting otherwise.  Like, one time, he’d had a dream about Jupiter, but it was way too close to Earth, and there was just no way the GAV could fly up there that fast, so, there.

Behind him, Mr. Lancer - that is, dream Mr. Lancer - had stopped speaking.  Danny felt certain that if he were to turn around now, Mr. Lancer wouldn’t even be there.  No.  He’d be replaced by something much worse.  Something terrible.  

He hunched his shoulders and covered his face, then froze as his fingers encountered something around his eyes.  The mask he’d worn the previous night, for the Moon Masque.  Had he even brought it home, after everything?  He didn’t remember.  He had been given back his not-so-ceremonial knife, and it was resting on his bedside table.  His fingers itched for it now.  Normal weapons, even Danny’s normal weapons, wouldn’t do anything against what loomed behind him, but maybe that would.  It had already banished one monster.  

There was only so long he could delay.  He turned.  The tunnel was long and dark, with no forks or turns.  He walked.  Fire and flowers licked from the walls, horribly red, ready to burn, ready to bleed, but did nothing to provide light.  

There was an end.  It was covered in metal instead of stone.  Dull green lines traced between metal panels and wires sprawled loosely over the floor.  He put his hand against the wall as he walked.  If he was right, this was where he would slip–

–click.

Remembered agony shot through his bones and heart and brain and he spasmed.  Through the green he could see Jazz.  Leo.  George.  Iris.  Vivian.  Lewis.  Matthew.  Joanna.  Grandpa Alfred.  Martin.  William.  Aunt Alicia.  Great Aunt Isabella.  Great Uncle Theodore.  

All of them dying.  All of them screaming, dying, melting.  

There was a sensation of cold in his chest and he choked himself awake, his ghost sense slipping past his lips.  He reached for the dagger instinctively, ready to fight.

“Fryth, myne yfyor.  Peace, Danny.  Dreams, only, have troubled you.”  

“Danny?” said Jazz, blearily, from the other side of the large bed.  “What’s wrong?”

“Um,” said Danny, staring.  Gwensyvyr had her hand phased partway into his shoulder, and that was clearly what had triggered his ghost sense and woken him up.  But, more importantly…  “You talked!”

“Yeah?” said Jazz, who was still not entirely awake.  

“Yes,” said Gwensyvyr at the same time.  “Although it would, ah, appear that you, only, can hear me.”  Her accent was strange and heavy, but still familiar and homey in a way Danny couldn’t properly identify.  

“Danny?” said Jazz, again.  “Did you have a nightmare or something?”

“Yeah,” said Danny.  “Yeah, I, um, nightmare.  Portals and murder plots, you know?  Ah.  Ha.”

Jazz was sitting up, now, and peering at the clock.  “It’s two,” she said, making a face.  “The sun was just barely up… What’s that at this latitude?  Nine?  So, five hours?”  She sighed.  “I feel like we just got over jet lag…”

“Mhm,” said Danny.  He wasn’t entirely awake either, and his brain wasn’t up for returning anything but exclamation points on the subject of Gwensyvyr talking to him.  

(And, as a point of fact, they’d been recovered from jet lag even before Matthew’s attempted emergency coronation, and that had been on the… The ninth?  The tenth?  And now it was…  Danny wasn’t entirely sure, actually.  Preparations for the Moon Masque had been a whirlwind.  Late January, anyway.)

(Maybe Jazz was right and they weren’t all that recovered from jet lag.)

“Should we go back to sleep?  I don’t want to throw my sleep schedule off too much, though…”

“Jazz, I don’t… I don’t think that’s really important.”

Jazz made a disgruntled noise, looked back over at him, and abruptly propelled herself off the bed.  “What–”

“Oh,” said Gwensyvyr.  “It might be that she might see?”  She pronounced the ‘gs’ in each ‘might.’ 

“Ohh,” said Jazz.  “She– That–  Hello, Gwensyvyr?”  Then she blinked.  “She’s gone?”

“No,” said Danny.  “Still here.”

“ I just–  I don’t see her anymore.”

“Alas,” said Gwensyvyr.  “A moment, only.  Yet still better than not at all.”

“Y-yeah,” said Danny.  He looked Gwensyvyr over.  “Your arm is better?”  It was, at least, covered in clothing again.

“It appears.”

“This is good,” said Jazz.  “This is good, right?”

“I mean, I don’t think it could be bad,” said Danny with a shrug.  “I can hear her, now.”

“Can you hear the others?” asked Jazz, climbing back onto the bed.  “Vivian?”

“I’ve been awake for a minute,” said Danny.  “And Vivian’s still with Matthew.”

“They have returned,” said Gwensyvyr.  

“Really?” asked Danny.  

“Three, four hours after you began to, ah…  Slevyn?”

“Sleep,” provided Danny.  “But they’re back?”

“I always forget that one,” said Gwensyvyr, mildly.  “Matthew still is awake.”

Danny rolled out of bed.  

“I guess we’re getting up, then,” said Jazz.  She brushed her hair out with her fingers as Danny hunted for something slightly more acceptable to wear downstairs than his pajamas.  Then, Danny remembered that Leo had come down that first day in pajama pants, a blanket, and no shirt, so it wasn’t like it mattered. 

The other ghosts, as silent as ever, pointed Danny and Jazz in the direction of the dining room, where Matthew, Irene, and Joanna were talking quietly and intensely.  They all stopped immediately when the door opened.  

Matthew and Irene looked absolutely awful.  Irene was still in her Moon Masque costume, and it was rumpled and stained.  It looked like she’d been pulling at her hair, with how it had come out of its earlier neat style.  Matthew had changed into a t-shirt and ratty jeans, and his arm was in a sling.  He looked pale, and his other arm had IV tape and various medical bracelets.  His nose was crusted with blood, and he had a black eye.  

“Is Sophia asleep?” asked Jazz, when no one else seemed ready to say anything.

“Sophia is still under medical care,” said Matthew.  He rubbed his eyes with his free hand.  “Nervous breakdown.  Grabbed a syringe from one of the doctors and tried to stab me with it.  Punched me really good, too.”

No wonder he and Mr. Kynbaz had been too busy to answer the phone.  

“Then, I had been given some Revyvtech drugs, because the knife,” he gestured at his shoulder, “had belladonna extract on it.  So I spent three hours after Joanna called getting all my blood replaced, just in case Revyvtech was also poisoning me.  Luckily, Physostigmine is produced by other companies, so Sophia and I were able to take that, and the amount of atropine that got into our systems really wasn’t enough to kill us, anyway.”  He sighed.  “I’m tired of getting poisoned.”

Irene patted his shoulder.  

“Yeah,” said Danny.  “So.  What are we doing about that?”

“Which?”

“The– The thing with Revyvtech.”

“We’re investigating,” said Matthew.  “Unfortunately, you can’t just accuse an entire company of murder.  You have to find the people responsible.  And you need evidence.  Security brought the medicines you tested to a forensics lab, so we’ll see if anything turns up there.  I don’t know what else to do.  I don’t even know if it’s safe to take the Trials, if these ‘blood blossoms’ bioaccumulate, if we’ll all drop dead the minute we finish them, the same way everyone else did.  I don’t know.”

“I don’t think they do,” said Danny, thoughtfully.  “I mean, I had a friend eat some for me, once, and I was still able to do things like phase through him afterwards.”

“There’s that, at least,” said Matthew.  He rubbed his eyes again.  

“You should sleep,” said Joanna.  

Matthew shook his head.  

Jazz cleared her throat again.  “Mom and Dad?” she asked.  

“Kyr Argyn, under house arrest in the Late Wing,” said Matthew.  “Pending an investigation, but of course all the investigators are busy…”  He stood up.  “We’re doing what we can do.  If the spirits are able to give you anything else…?”  He trailed off, hopefully.  

“He should sleep,” said Gwensyvyr.  “I do not believe anything I have to say to you will change that.”  She paused.  “Vivian’s story might.”

Danny shook his head.

“Let me know if that changes,” said Matthew.  He took a breath and held it for a second.  “Joanna, can you–?”

“I’ll keep everyone to the schedule as best I can,” she said.

“Good.  Good,” said Matthew.  He hobbled around his chair, towards the door, Irene helping him.  

“What schedule?” asked Danny, after they had left.  “To prepare for the Trials,” said Joanna.  “We’re going a little fast, but… the full moon is soon.”  She smiled shakily.  “So!  Since you two are up, why don’t you get breakfast - or lunch, I suppose - and we can talk about personal seals.”

[inkwingsinc]

Love the fic! and just to reiterate no pressure at all we’re all along for the rude. Do you have any headcanons- face claims for Nostya Mulligan? Love him as a character and have been missing him!

I'll be honest, even if people were beating down my inbox like it owed them money to get me to update I'd still be flattered to hell and back. I used to feel a lil prickly when I'd get pleas to update but for real though I do it to myself, too. Like bestie (@/myself) please write. please. the visions are too haunting

I've attempted to use Midjourney AI to make a lil image of Nostya and this was as close as I got, but it wasn't perfect: (pic and headcanons under the cut)

Also no minors. None. No exceptions

<3 war criminal <3

Take away his eyebrows and there you have him, folks. His nose is a bit wider, nose bridge a bit flatter. Teeth black all the way up. Tattoos much darker and central on his neck.

!!!Headcanons!!!

He is somewhere between 5'3" - 5'5". Short kings rise. You don't need to be tall and bulky to be physically imposing and dangerous.

His neck tattoos serve a function to cover some pretty horrific scarring. Failed beheading <3

He is much, much older than the Harkonnen nephews. I'd say maybe late fifties, early sixties. Still spry and healthy, all things considered. Lives off gonduri root and whatever Master Aalto is cooking up in his lil infirmary lab

Alongside the Baron, this is the little wretch responsible for Feyd-Rautha's eating disordered tendencies. Like. You think the Na-Baron is natty????? Nahhhhh. It's nutrient paste and dirty bulk-cut cycles all the way down. (use your imagination to think of what the Geidi Prime equivalent of HGH-test and chicken-rice-broccoli is)

This is the man who trained Feyd-Rautha to be a warrior. He was an absolute terror to him. They have a very fucked up father-son relationship, basically (Nostya Mulligan is essentially Feyd-Rautha's brat tamer iykyk)

The blade Laera wears on her thigh? It's the first blade Nostya ever gave the Na-Baron as a boy <3

House Mulligan is originally from Lankiveil. He was installed as House Warmaster shortly after Rabban killed his father. Curiously--he and Rabban are old friends (which makes Feyd jealous)

Packing schmeat. Not sorry.

Unrepentant sadist who relies on people underestimating him.

He's a student of history and is very shrewd. His knowledge of battle tactics is vast and he is responsible for at least one genocide (probably the one that subjugated Geidi Prime). Horrible little asshole. Does it all with a smile on his face

Aromantic pansexual. Will he let you hit? yes

he might kill you after

So uhhhh here's the weird one. You want to know what his voice sounds like? Go on Reddit and type in 99asmr. Listen to the gonewildaudio post called The Maze. You're welcome (also my fic is written by an adult for adults so no minors whatsoever should ever interact with, view, or otherwise think about my content. This goes triply for what I've just recommended). Do I headcanon Nostya as having a bit of a French accent? Yeah. Can't help it.

[ludmilachaibemachado]

Françoise Hardy sur la tournage du film ‘Une Balle au Coeur’🥀

📸 Giancarlo Botti/ Getty Images

Via @jadorefrancoisehardy on Instagram

[saintsenara]

bertha jorkins/petunia's friend yvonne (ladies who travel?)

muriel prewett/orion black (giving dy-nasty?)

piers polkiss/pansy parkinson or piers polkiss/peter pettigrew (does alliteration = a lotta love?)

cheers pal, some great choices here.

bertha jorkins/yvonne the surrey jet-setter

let me take this opportunity to congratulate you publicly on being so obsessed with yvonne, who is mentioned once in philosopher's stone being a pal to our harry by being on her hols in majorca when the dursleys are trying to get out of having to take their nephew to the zoo.

petunia's vibe when she tells vernon that yvonne's sunning herself is very much giving frenemy, and so i do think that yvonne is probably a little bit brassy and glam [this is the early 90s, so i think she dresses and behaves exactly like meg ryan in when harry met sally - yes, right down to the fact that she once humiliated petunia by faking an orgasm in the middle of a wimpy] in a way petunia, who considers herself classy, is secretly quite jealous of and so goes out of her way to sniff at.

bertha - we know from canon - is also a bit brassy [which is one of the reasons that she's treated so dismissively by the men in charge of the ministry - she's seen as a stereotypical "dumb blonde"]. the two of them meet getting french tips or getting their highlights done, start having a chinwag about how they love an all-inclusive and how much they adored robin hood: prince of thieves, and have booked the tickets for a girly fortnight in ayia napa within the hour.

and yvonne - who's a canny lass - would never let bertha do something as dangerous as wander off into a wood on the expectation of banging peter pettigrew [bertha... hun... even voldemort felt sorry for you...]. she tells the creep they meet in some mysterious albanian tavern to clear off because the two of them are a couple.

it then occurs to them both that they... should be.

they're very happy.

orion black/muriel prewett

muriel is almost forty years older than orion, which means that i back this purely in that i've seen the graduate.

muriel thinks it's a shame that the young pureblood men have no vigour nowadays, and so she considers it her duty to train them up before they're let loose on young women their own age. she never thinks of them again after she grows bored of them - after all, she has no interest in looking after a man, be real.

the experience has a rather more pronounced impact on orion. it's odd that the walburga we meet in canon appears to be ancient - with her yellowing skin and her widow's weeds - even though she's only in her sixties [which, since wizards age much slower than muggles, is probably the conceptual equivalent of her being in her forties] when she dies.

but we've stumbled upon the reason here.

orion made her do muriel-themed age play.

pansy parkinson/piers polkiss

yeah, i reckon you could get through at least a couple of months of a situationship purely sustained by your shared experience of being continually pied by the blonde bully you're in love with.

peter pettigrew/piers polkiss

flopping, i fear. piers' rodenty vibes are giving "goes to goldsmiths and takes ket in a warehouse", whereas wormtail's are giving "prison".

[foster-the-world]

Birthday weekend

What a lovely Birthday weekend. Friday my husband picked up the cookie cake I requested. At the park Bee invited all of her friends over. Surprisingly their parents said sure will come. It turned out to be very nice. The adults talked while the kids created little skits. They stayed for a few hours. It was fun. Saturday getting the girls to clean up their room was a huge fight but eventually they did it. Took Rebel to her first soccer game of the season. They lost by a lot but Rebel scored the only two goals. Surprinsgly, as she mostly slowly moved around the field behind everyone else. I think one ball happened to bounce off of her into the goal :) Husband made my requested french onion soup. I put pringles on it - which is odd but amazing. We all love it. Today we did went to Bee's soccer game. Funny how kids get so much better as they age even without practice. I guess its natural motor skill development. Bee scored her teams only goal. Baby boy and rebel ran around Central Park enjoying the sunny weather. Then my husband took all three kids to the girls horseback riding lessons. Then onward to a state park. I relaxed and watched Dear Child. If you like thrillers I recommend it.

Friday Baby boy had his first of four evaluations. It went fine. He acted like himself as he always does. She thought he had autism and mentioned moving him to a special ed school with multiple (20-30) hours of individual therapy every week. A lot to take in. We are surprised. He's never had a yes answer to a single question on the autism screener. His regular OT has said she doesn't see it. We got back the private assessment we paid for and no mention of autism. That being said we are staying open to the idea. We def think he's not neurotypical we just assumed it was SPD with ADHD coming down the line. Both of which can def happen alongside autism. She said he had good eye contact with me but only some with her. She said he is "remarkably bright" and did very well on a pattern tests she gave him on her ipad. I know he didn't even finish the test because he's not the type to sit and answer questions when he can move around. When she threw a small football around with him he played catch with her three times but then started throwing up to himself. She said neurotypical kids would want to continue playing with her. I suspected he stopped playing because he's a great thrower but can't catch someone else's throw because he moves too much. Whereas, when he throws it up he can catch it. But who knows?? I'm also wondering if the diagnosis will help him out. I'm sure it will be easier to get therapy from insurance. In addition, I wonder if people will be nicer to him. Right now if I say sensory issues I assume people just think we didn't teach him to behave properly. But with autism people maybe more forgiving of his sensory issues. Anyway, I didn't question her. I knew that would make me look like a mom who doesn't want her kid to have a diagnosis. I'm happy with any label that will help him get what he needs. I def think he needs more services. I'm not sure 20-30 hours is it but will see once the final report comes in. We still have a speech eval, an OT and a PT eval. Then they have sixty days to give us a report with recommendations and set up an IEP meeting.

I'm glad we have the special ed consultant booked. I can ask the advantage/disadvantage of getting the diagnosis?? Plus, a million other things that I have rolling around my head. I spent a lot of time researching this weekend. I watched two documentaries about kids with autism. None of the kids were anything like baby boy but still interesting movies.

[mercyfuls]

⊠    ɪᴅ  .  .  .  ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ    ›› JIA “ JULIA ” YUN ;

• thirty4 + agender + any pronouns . • intelligence agent ; on the payroll for twelve years . • agent arachne : string manipulation .

backroom deals and back alley fistfights ; tripwires as fine as spider silk ; always wanting something more ; a future just out of reach .

PERSONAL DETAILS ;

a. full name : jia yun b. preferred name : julia c. aliases : assorted. most used include erin choi & june kim

d. age : thirty-four ( 34 ) e. date of birth : 26 august 2014 f. place of birth : seoul, south korea

g. gender : none h. pronouns : they / he / she i. orientation : demisexual

j. hometown : seoul, south korea k. current residence : apex city, united states

l. first language : korean m. subsequent languages : english, french, mandarin

n. highest education : bachelor of information technology

EMPLOYMENT DETAILS ;

o. years employed : twelve ( 12 ) p. faction : intelligence q. previous faction : junior r. codename : arachne

s. mutation : string manipulation t. strengths : resourceful, creative u. weaknesses : stubborn, inefficient

FAMILIAL DETAILS ;

v. father : juhwan yun ( sixty-four, hr professional ) w. mother : seonmi ju ( sixty-five, emergency nurse ) x. siblings : none.

HISTORY ;

born in seoul, south korea to an ordinary couple, jia yun was never an easy child. disgruntled by the mundanity of their upbringing, they sought to inflict excitement on the neighbourhood — no matter the means or cost. as a small child, this mostly involved making " potions " of mud, grass and flowers, peddling them to every unfortunate passerby, and inventing fantastical worlds of magic, death and science fiction to coerce the other children into playing with them, but as they grew older other things began to draw their attention.

first it was getting suspended from school for setting off fireworks in the playground — raising serious questions of where a five-year-old even got fireworks from. then it was emulating a tv show hacker and displaying threatening messages on public computers — a visit from the police was arranged, though it did very little to actually get through to jia.

they were sixteen when they started getting involved in actual crime. petty theft from convenience stores turned into bigger theft — electronics, valuables, etc — and by the time they were nineteen, jia was somewhat notorious amongst petty criminals — and the police.

their first foray into law enforcement came in university, when the police recruited them in a quid-pro-quo sort of deal ( help us out and we'll wipe a couple things off your record ) to track down a big time criminal through the internet. this was the moment julia discovered there could be excitement on both sides of the law.

discovering this did not stop jia's dabbling in the criminal sphere, of course, but it did offer them another outlet to evade boredom without the implications on their future. this continued for a few years, until just after graduation jia was approached by a mercy agent scouting for the organisation. naturally, julia said yes, the opportunity being a perfect outlet for them and far more interesting than a career in i.t.

two years of training as a junior agent later, julia graduated to being an intelligence agent and immediately opted in to becoming a radiant. string manipulation hasn't proven to be terribly useful thus far — though it allows them to create excellent tripwires and garottes, and useful for intimidation tactics in interrogations, it's not terribly useful in the computer area, which is where julia prefers to be.

APPLICATION ;

⊠    ɪᴅ  .  .  .  ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ    ››    [    kim  hieora    /      thirty4    /    agender    /    they/he/she    ]   mercy  headquarters  is  pleased  to  officially  introduce  JIA  “JULIA”  YUN.  they  have  been  apart  of  the  organization  for  twelve  years,  serving  as  AN  INTELLIGENCE  agent  and  has  been  assigned  the  codename  AGENT  ARACHNE.  it's  worth  noting  that  their  file  indicates  they  have  undergone  the  solaris  treatment  and  host  STRING MANPULATION.  according  to  our  dossier,  the  agent  exhibits  a  combination  of  CREATIVITY  and  OBSTINANCE,  fitting  for  someone  reminiscent  of  backroom  deals  and  back  alley  fistfights  ;  tripwires  as  fine  as  spider  silk  ;  always  wanting  something  more  ;  a  future  just  out  of  reach.  prior  to  embarking  on  any  mission,  the  find  solace  in  listening  to  the  song  “stippling“  by  DOUBLE  FACE.  (  thyme.  twenty1.  they/them.  aedt.  none  )

[duckymcdoorknob]

Hey here! Could I order a box with gold foil, square dark chocolate (Kusuo), with peppermint, caramel and strawberry jam filling? Thank you so much, happy Valentine’s Day!

Heblo Heblo, Nonnie!!!

Yes you may order this box!!

I hope you enjoy!!

CW BELOW THE CUT: None!

𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑜𝑥 𝑤𝑎𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑐𝑟𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑙𝑦 ❤︎

The last thing that you wanted to hear about was your favorite uncle’s wedding. You knew what was coming; you knew what your family would ask. It was like a ticking time bomb as you stood fiddling with your fingers.

“So, how many people should I order for?” A family member asked, trying to get a headcount for catering.

“Well, I told the venue about sixty five guests.” Your uncle replied, flipping through pages of cake design ideas.

Oh no.

There were only about thirty people that your uncle would dare invite to this wedding.

That means…

“I presumed everyone would come with a date.”

Oh the horror…

With a silent groan and a pained close of your eyes, you take your phone out to text your best friend. Completely forgetting the time, you passive aggressively asked if you could meet with him.

“Sure, (Y/N) but… why are you awake? It’s 12:30 in the morning.”

“Oops. Sorry, planning for something.”

“I was awake too, it’s okay.”

You chuckled at the text, he was a total liar.

“Meet at our usual spot?”

“Please.”

You put your phone away and waved off your family, making some sort of excuse about needing to study.

You really hoped this would work…

Your “usual spot” was a small carhop diner that you and your best friend had discovered years ago. Since you’d be asking him a favor, you decided to pay for drinks this time. After ordering a large order of French fries, a large coffee milkshake and a large (favorite ice cream flavor) milkshake, you waited for Kusuo to show up.

“Maaaan midnight thirty is the worst time to go out.” A full voice was heard from behind you, sounding quite strained and tired.

“Hey in my professional opinion, sleep deprived adventures are the best ones.” You replied with a chuckle.

Your best friend sat down, and you couldn’t help but stifle a giggle at his bed head and sunken eyes. “You woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“Ahaha.” He glared daggers at you as he took a tiny sip of the milkshake. “Oh but this hits the spot.”

You gave him a minute to adjust his bleary eyes to the world of the awake. When he seemed a little more alert, you dropped the bomb on him.

“Kusuo I’m just gonna come out and say it…” you said gently, “I need a big favor.”

Your best friend furrowed his brows and cocked his head. “What’s on your mind?”

“So… my uncle is having his wedding next weekend. And um…” you sighed. This was harder than you thought, “He made the registration for twice the amount of guests and I need-

“Me to be your date? Sure.” He replied, sipping his shake again.

You blinked and shook your head, “Wait, what?”

“Weddings are fun. Plus, we can come here afterward.”

You smiled. Mission success!

-

When the time came for your uncle to be wed, you wore a beautiful outfit. Unfortunately, your family insisted you wear the tightest pair of shoes that you own. So, with hurting feet, you were ready for the night.

Your doorbell rang and your uncle opened it. “Hello there, son! You must be (Y/N)’s boyfriend!”

Both of you visibly tensed from different points of your home.

“Yes sir. I’m very happy to be accompanying them tonight.”

You felt your heart leap a bit… why?

“Are you the groom-to-be?” Your best friend replied with a small smile.

“Yes I am!” Your uncle beamed, “It seems like you’re the next in line for the family though.” He winked and elbowed Kusuo in the side.

The boy felt a blush creeping to his cheeks and ears, nonetheless shaking it off.

“Oooh. Are you blushing?” Your dear uncle teased.

Before he could protest, you came into the room your uncle and best friend were in, wearing a big smile. “Uncle (Name), it’s time to go!” You chirped as you placed a hand on his shoulder. “Oh! Hey, Kusuo!”

Saiki smiled at your cheerfulness, “You look ravishing, (Y/N).”

Your face warmed a bit at the statement, “Likewise; you clean up nice.”

“Okay you two that’s enough flirting.” Your uncle cut in, “Time to go, everyone!”

Two by two, your family all arrived at the wedding venue. It was a beautiful ceremony and your uncle was the happiest he’d ever been. Your new aunt was very sweet as well. Now, it was time for the reception. You and your best friend sat alone at a table, chatting about whatever nonsense you could.

“Alright everyone! Line up! I’m tossing the bouquet and garter!” Your aunt beamed.

You chuckled as Kusuo cocked a brow at you, ushering you to stand up. So, you quickly scampered over to the area where the other guests were.

In a cruel but quite humorous way, the bouquet wrapped with the garter collided with your face and fell into your arms.

People cheered around you, but the only sound you could focus on was your date’s ringing laughter. You had never heard Kusuo laugh so freely in your life.

You retreated back to the table to be met with your best friend recovering from his giggle fit.

“That.” He said breathily, “was so damn funny.”

“Perhaps. But it seems like I’ll be the next one in my family to be married I guess!” You chimed, observing the flowers.

Your date’s eyes widened as he thought back to your uncle’s words. As the music in the hall suddenly slowed, Saiki seemed to be dying to say something…

“Hey.”

You turned towards him, “Mm?”

“Wanna dance?” He asked, standing up and outstretching his hand.

You chuckled, “I’d love to, but my feet are killing me.”

Without hesitation, your best friend took his shoes off and knelt down to take yours off as well. “Dancing in socks is more fun anyways.”

You and Kusuo made your way to the dance floor, dodging couples and family members. He put his arms on your torso as you placed yours on his shoulders.

“Man, this is the most awkward thing in the world.” You murmured, trying to avoid his eyes.

“I think it’s great.” He replied without thinking.

“What do you mean by that?” Your eyes were locked onto his.

“(Y/N)… I think through this I realized that I’ve fallen in love with you.” He said bashfully.

You smiled, laying your head on his shoulder. “I think I have too.”

And with a smile and thumbs up from your uncle, Kusuo began to think of the million ways to ask you out at the end of the night. His mind settled on one thing: Shakes, fries, and starry skies.

—————♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎—————

[alexturne]

The Car - Track by track: A test-drive of The Car

Article in Focus which goes through the album track by track. Shared and translated by Smilion:

1. There'd Better Be a Mirrorball

Let's get straight to the point: The Car is not a new Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino, the album with which Arctic Monkeys radically turned its back on the arena rock of predecessor and chef d'oeuvre AM (2013) four years ago. Tranquility Base was Arctic Monkeys in space, a concept album like a Stanley Kubrick soundtrack. The Car is equally cinematic, but a lot wider, lighter and – yes – more accessible. Or as Alex Turner put it in the British street newspaper The Big Issue: 'The sci-fi is off the table, we're back on Earth.'

The proof is immediately provided in opener and forward single There'd Better Be a Mirrorball. No disco, but a break-up song packaged like a Bond number from the sixties. “Do you wanna walk me to the car?” Turner wonders. Walking to the car with your loved one will never be the same.

2. I Ain't Quite Where I Think I Am

Turner once again wrote the picket fences of the new Arctic Monkeys record solo, from behind his Steinway & Sons. It was only later that the rest of the group was brought in. More specifically during the European Football Championship of 2021, where they watched with the entire band between the recordings. (Turner gave his comeback interview earlier this year to the French sports newspaper L'Équipe for a reason.)

"In the summer of the European Championships, we spent two or three weeks with the boys as a band in the English countryside," says Turner. “I then stepped away from the piano for a while and enjoyed playing wahwah guitar again.” It's that wahwah guitar you hear in I Ain't Quite Where I Think I Am, a song that is just as much of Turner's side project The Last Shadow. Puppets could have been. Of everything you'll find in the trunk of The Car, this is by far the funky and catchy.

3. Sculptures of Anything Goes

Dark, cumbersome but fat: with a little good will you can consider Sculptures of Anything Goes as a distant relative of Humbug (2009), the third of the Monkeys produced by Josh Homme. Although the deep bass and pulsating electronic drums are actually unreleased Arctic Monkeys, and in that respect the song is more reminiscent of that rare time when Nick Cave – in Rings of Saturn from Skeleton Tree – suddenly started flirting with electronica.

More than anywhere else on the record, Alex Turner's on-again, off-again relationship with rock music is highlighted here. "I wanted to turn the rock band bit on and off," he told The Guardian. “On Sculptures, the rock band slide is opened here and there for a measure or two, only to be pushed back in.”

4. Jet Skis on the Moat

Summer 2014. A Canadian journalist speaks with Alex Turner and drummer Matt Helders in front of a concert hall in Toronto, on the shores of Lake Ontario, but sees his interview cut short when suddenly two men on a jet ski pass by and start calling for the Monkeys. (Things like, 'Which band is playing tonight? The Arctic Monkeys? Is that you?' To which Alex Turner: 'You bet!') Turner apparently had so much fun seeing Jet Skis on the Moat – there's the wahwahgi cakes again! — could be based on that particular interview from eight years ago. At least, that's what some Arctic Monkeys fans on the internet claim. Or they just have too much time.

5. Body Paint

The second pre-sent single, and according to many fans "the best thing Arctic Monkeys has played since AM", the British newspaper The Independent polled. Anyway, Body Paint is the most versatile song on the entire album, half a rock opera in which Turner croons like the Bowie of the mid-seventies over keys, guitars and strings. Lots of strings.

Turner wrote a large part of the string arrangements for this album himself and had them edited by Bridget Samuels, the artistic director of the London Orchestrate who previously produced soundtracks for films such as Under the Skin (with Scarlett Johansson), Jackie (with Natalie Portman) and Midsommar (with Florence Pugh) supervised. You immediately know why The Car sounds so cinematic and grand.

6. The Car

From big to small: title song The Car is one of the quietest on the record. Acoustic guitars predominate. The 'sleepy amigos' about whom Turner sings here only reinforce the mariachi feeling.

Incidentally, the album title came after Alex Turner saw a photo of patented hobby photographer Matt Helders with a car on the roof of an abandoned parking garage. "I immediately got the impression that that had to be the next cover," says Turner. "And if you get the chance to call an album The Car, you have to grab it with both hands."

7. Big Ideas

Or as Turner calls it in the text itself: 'The ballad of what could have been'. The Arctic Monkeys frontman imagines himself to be a brilliant composer who, on his mandolin and with the backing of an orchestra, devised the theme song to a film about twins received by mass hysteria. Or something.

Big Ideas had a modest live premiere last week during the Arctic Monkeys showcase at Studio Brussel, but you can expect an even dreamier studio version.

8. Hello You

Besides I Ain't Quite Where I Think I Am, The Car's one and only uptempo song. The Arctic Monkeys from the time of R U Mine? will never return, as Matt Helders indicated in an interview this spring, but the guitar riff of Hello You is very reminiscent of Knee Socks, one of those other crowd favorites from AM.

Hello You, by the way, contains one of the funniest lines of text that Alex Turner wrote for The Car: 'I could pass for seventeen if I just get a shave and catch some Zzz.'

9. Mr. Schwartz

Brian from Brianstorm. Arabella from Arabella. Receptionist Mark from Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino. Alex Turner has featured many characters in his songs over the years. Mr Schwartz's turn is on The Car. From the first time Arctic Monkeys played the song glued together by fingerpicking guitars live last summer, the identity of Mr. Schwartz has been conjectured. The most plausible guess came from a Reddit user who stumbled upon an Arctic Monkeys-linked Spotify playlist titled "Del Schwartz"—again: Monkeys fans obviously have a lot of time—and googled Delmore Schwartz, the late American poet. and short story writer who taught Lou Reed. Turner spoke to 3FM about 'a huge coincidence' and claimed that he had simply seen the name Del Schwartz 'on the back of a nineties Alfa Romeo'.

10. Perfect Sense

Favorite Worst Nightmare (2007) had 505, AM had I Wanna Be Yours and Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino had The Ultracheese. Well-aimed closing songs are a thing at Arctic Monkeys. Perfect Sense is also such a well-known ending, one where you can see the credits roll across the screen. And one in which Alex Turner repeatedly wishes you good night against the background of a battery – there they are again – strings.

Of all the songs on The Car, this would be the most suitable to perform with a string ensemble. Although it must be said right away: that will not happen. The Monkeys skillfully rejected an offer for a TV special with an orchestra. "Too predictable."

However accessible Arctic Monkeys in 2022 may sound, the spirit of the obstinate rock band is still there.

[rynnaaurelius]

I'd really love the sci fi reading list, if it's not too difficult! Thank you for your explanation

Yes! Okay, requisite this is Not Authoritative Or Comprehensive claim, I'm a dork with a Russian degree, but here we go:

(I tried to organize this chronologically because if I did it thematically we would be here all day. Also, I still have more books, but they get increasingly niche. This is a Greatest Hits playlist, and if you look these people up, you will find their contemporaries)

(Long list below the Read More)

Jules Verne — 80,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Journey to the Center of the Earth. Excellent continuations of that exploration/'ostracized' genius figure, so popular in the previous century. French, so English translations. Kinda marks the transition point between 19th c. pure spec exploration and what we would call sci-fi. BUT BEFORE HIM...

Mary Shelley — Frankenstein is probably the first sci-fi novel as we know it. BUT BEFORE HER...

Margaret Cavendish — Okay, the 'first sci-fi novel' is hard to define for obvious reasons, but The Blazing World has as good a claim as any. Published in the 17th c., so it really traverses the genres, but includes a utopian kingdom accessible via the North Pole. Her husband was so impressed that he composed a sonnet for her, which serves as the epigraph for the novel; it's a wild read in the same way Robinson Crusoe and other early novels are, and I'm mostly including it here because it's so, so wild to read in 2023.

John W. Campbell — That dude. The hero's journey guy. His short story Who Goes There? Has been adapted a million times into a little movie called The Thing. Unfortunately got really into race science, so Isaac Asimov told him to fuck off. Edited the magazine Astounding Science Fiction, which in 1939 published Black Destroyer by Alfred Van Vogt, usually cited as the beginning of Golden Age sci-fi.

H. G. Wells — Big critic of class divisions in Victorian English society, coined the term 'time machine' as we think of it in his novel...The Time Machine. A lot of what we consider 'classic' time travel tropes were, if not invented here, had their seeds planted here. Also famous for War of the Worlds, leading to a MINOR disturbance when Orson Welles did a dramatic radio reading.

Edgar Rice Burroughs — the man, the myth, the legend. If I could persuade you to read one white English sci-fi author with rather dubious politics, it would be him, if only because of how influential he was. Mostly famous for Tarzan, but he also wrote a whole series about Hollow Earth that crosses over with Tarzan at some point (Pellucidar), as well as the series Barsoom (A Princess of Mars and its sequels), and Amtor (Guy named Carson Napier gets transported to Venus, which was a watery hellscape, as was popularly theorized for a while).

They're basically pulp comics before pulp comics, published in magazines, extremely lurid and dramatic, and he did write his own crossovers. These were what the first modern superhero comics writers often grew up reading and what inspired them—John Carter's cultural cachet was borrowed by Superman until it became his cultural cachet.

They're very fun, but also supremely products of their time, and extremely fond of the British Empire.

Judith Merrill — prolific writer and editor, who also wrote one of my personal favorite reactions to the atomic bomb in Shadow on the Hearth.

Gabriel García Márquez — we're gonna take half a sidestep into magical realism here (which is, to define quickly, a genre incorporating the fantastic into otherwise realistic narratives, often formed and associated with decolonial and post colonial Latin American fiction, but not always. It's a fuzzy genre). He wrote in Spanish, but I read him in English. One Hundred Years of Solitude is probably one of the great novels ever written. My mother is also telling me to rec Love in the Time of Cholera and she wrote about the man, so listen to her.

Jorge Amado — the sixties were the big magical realism heyday. Amado was Brazilian and his Dona Flor and her Two Husbands is a book my Spanish high school teacher made me swear to read some day.

Andre Alice Norton — Deserves a spot for being one of the most prolific sci-fi authors of all time during a time when sci-fi was INCREDIBLY inhospitable to women. Over 300 books!

Robert Heinlein — This man is the poster child for "male author who writes groundbreaking sci-fi novels but cannot be normal about women with a gun to his head". The Moon Is A Harsh Mistress is excellent and incredibly important for how comprehensive the creation of Luna and its workers was, even if it is very sixties free love. Also wrote Starship Troopers, the novel.

Edward Smith — you haven't seen drama until you read what they said when Lensman (first book is Triplanetary) lost to Foundation for the Hugo in the sixties.

Larry Niven — Fleet of Worlds! Ringworld won a whole host of awards and deservedly so in 1970. Fair warning, his stuff decidedly falls under "hard" sci-fi (lots and lots of discussion for plausible alien artifacts), though it is awesome just in terms of how he can communicate scale. If you see a big ring-like structure in space, you can thank this guy, basically (the term ringworld comes from here). Also did a bunch of co-writing. I haven't read his other stuff, but CoDominium is on my list (he co-wrote it. First book is The Mote in God's Eye). If you liked the TV show The Expanse when it did the alien stuff and the later books it never got to adapt, you'll love this guy.

Samuel R. Delaney — Dhalgren is a book I am forbidding you to research before reading. Go in prepared. You have been warned. You will either love this book or set it on fire.

Stanislaw Lem — Solaris. I started this novel last week after watching the Tarkovsky film and. It's doing something to my brain, that's for sure. It's a book where I have to read every sentence twice. If you read it, find a good translation if you don't speak Polish. The author famously is very mad at critics who use Freudian analysis for it, so tread carefully (it's about the limits of rationality and our ability to understand, so. Fair).

Joanna Russ — The Female Man is a seminal work of feminist sci-fi. It's—fascinating, to be honest. Discusses socially enforced dependence of women on men and the creation of a different gender, a "female man", when the protagonist chooses to reject it and thus her socially enforced gender. I wouldn't call it a transgender manifesto (written in 1975, features insufficiently masculine men undergoing sex change surgery, so...yeah) but it definitely awoke something in my brain when I was 16 lol. I would LOVE to see it revisited in literary criticism from a modern perspective, especially from trans people.

C.J. Cherryh — If we talked about female sci-fi authors from the 1950s-70s writing under gender ambiguous aliases, we would be here all day, so I'm picking the one whose books I got for cheap at a book sale. Her Foreigner series has such a good premise with descendants of a lost Earth ship and interstellar court drama, and it's SO fun.

Poul Anderson — the name is not a typo, do not look up Paul Anderson, you will never find him. I actually have a copy of Three Swords and Three Lions currently collecting dust on my shelf and judging me right now as I wait to read it. Tau Zero is one of the greatest things I've ever read. The time dilation stuff gets kinda dense at times, but he incorporates some interest in his Swedish history and folk tales into it, and his explanation of travel at the speed of light and incorporating that into his discussion of nationalism is incredible. The ending where they survived [REDACTED] and landed on what may have been [REDACTED] has been bouncing around my brain for a bit now.

Laura Esquivel — Like Water for Chocolate is from the magical realism reading list.

Salman Rushdie — Midnight's Children is one of those bucket list books, for better or worse. Recontextualized Indian independence from the British and the Partition through framing of a husband telling the story to his wife, as he actively tells the story to her. Really uses the fantastical versus the real w/history versus truth so well.

Nancy Farmer — The Ear, the Eye, and the Arm, for the kids lying about their age on Tumblr dot hell. Three kids try to escape a kidnapping after sneaking out—in 23rd century Zimbabwe. With the help of three mutant detectives. It rules.

Ben Okri — Okay, I have not read his stuff yet, but it is on my list. Other people here have discussed his influence on them in post colonial sci-fi. His big one is The Famished Road, first in a trilogy, and renowned for its discussion of the spiritual and realist world coexisting in African animist spiritual life.

Nnedi Okorafor — I have read one of her short stories, Remote Control, and currently have an book list with her other stuff on it. Other people I know vouched for her work. She specifically writes Africanfuturism and Africanjujuism centered around her Nigerian background, and follows on from the likes of Okri and Octavia Butler. I'd also add if you're a Stephen King fan when he's in Dark Tower mode, she's probably gonna have things that appeal to you.

Mentions that are absolutely influential but don't need explaining on this website: Franz Kafka, Ursula K Le Guin, Douglas Adams, N. K. Jemisin, Ray Bradbury, Arthur C Clarke, Isaac Asimov, Frank Herbert, Alduous Huxley, Philip K. Dick, Orson Scott Card, Kurt Vonnegut, George Orwell, Octavia Butler, Neil Gaiman, Toni Morrison.

(to be clear: you SHOULD read them, but you probably know who most of them are and/or why they're big deals. Most of them are also incredibly prolific, and explaining their bodies of work are other posts. Trying to make a list about other folks)

For more on Afrofuturism,(not to be confused with Africanfuturism), I recommend the shit out of Afrofuturism: The World of Black Sci-Fi and Fantasy Culture, full of short stories and guides to art and music. I, alas, lack similarly useful authoritative guides to other genres, but I have read that one, so wanna toss it out there. There's so much.