#❛ ● █ RESPONSES: OUT OF CHARACTER. ❜

[kianamaiart]

IDWTBAMG CHARACTER FUN FACTS

Well, some fun facts and mostly lore or character relationship stuff. Under the cut!

AIKA

Aika became the next Star Guardian at age 13. She’s 15 now

Aika’s want to help people and relentless positivity were part of the reason she was chosen to be the Star Guardian: Guardian of the Stars in the first place. While her love for the job has fizzled out, this aspect of her character still a core part of her.

She’s very kind and gentle person but that kinda goes out the window when magical duties are brought into the equation

Her and Hoshi care about one another but their relationship is currently a bit tense. They’re usually pretty quick to make jabs at one another

She struggled to get used to the platform shoes in her magical girl outfit

She LOVES food. And her eyes are usually way too big for her stomach leading to many a food coma

Aika and her teammates worked in secret for the most part, not really being allowed to “exist in the real world”. Because of this, with the free time she had, Aika would read a lot (she’s actually very book smart)

Aika loves extreme sports and is an adrenaline junky. However, rollercoasters freak her out for some reason

Aika drags Zira into lots of new eperiences. Zira usually ends up appreciating the experiences after the fact 

Aika’s a morning person

ZIRA

Zira is smart but doesn’t apply herself in school

They have a lot of artistic interests, particularly art, music and fashion

She likes the idea of writing fanfiction in theory but writing’s sooooo much work. Any ideas she has just kinda live in her head, causing her to zone out and daydream a ton

While shy for the most part, Zira can be very blunt and isn’t necessarily a pushover

Prior to Aika, she didn’t have a lot (any) friends at school but she’s mostly content doing her own thing

They’d hang out in Miss’ classroom a lot, either to show her Moon Sailor stuff against her will or just to have lunch

Zira loves playing video games and especially loves visual novels

Zira develops a crush on Aika pretty quickly. Aika’s kindness, authenticity and bravery is inspiring to Zira. Also Aika’s the only other person her age to really give her the time of day. And also she thinks Aika’s pretty

She thinks Hoshi’s really cool and since Aika doesn’t particularly enjoy talking about her job, Zira usually goes to Hoshi for magical girl questions. Initially Hoshi doesn’t trust Zira with that information but is really flattered to have someone who looks up to them and is interested in everything they have to say. So they indulge when appropriate.

Zira’s a night owl

HOSHI

Hoshi saved Aika when she was really young and has kept her safe ever since

Hoshi and Aika started off kind of like siblings but Hoshi then became her boss, making their relationship a bit strained and more complicated

Their role as a magical mascot managerial in nature. They make Aika and her team do their jobs, follow protocol, teach them how to use their powers, keep up morale, do timecards, etc.

While Hoshi oversees this team, their responsibility is primarily to the Star Guardian

Hoshi, much like Aika, used to be really chipper and a bit more goofy but Aika’s kinda worn them down overtime

Hoshi’s not a fan of Earth, but in an effort to better understand Aika’s feelings, tries out being a human and doing Earth activities

Hoshi takes a while to get used to their human form. They’re really clumsy in it

They have a hard time making hands for their human form. Their hands are slightly different every time but equally terrifying. They eventually get better at making them though.

Hoshi doesn't use their human form too much. Most people just assume their Aika's weird pet bird

Hoshi doesn't need to eat but discovers they enjoy the act of eating

ECLIPSE

Eclipse is one of the few humans that know that Aika and the other magical girls exist

He met Aika pretty early on in her magical girl career and he was immediately enamored with her

Since finding about magical girls, he’s obsessively tried keeping track of them, leading him to start acting out in order to get their attention. They only really care because he knows their secret and they play along

He and Devoid made his current outfit together. DeVoid wanted to make it black but Eclipse was set on making it very bright and showy

Eclipse currently resides with DeVoid. He gets on her nerves sometimes but they both do care about each other

Eclipse is a pretty good cook 

Eclipse isn’t particularly hateful but he’s really got beef with Zira for some reason

It’s hard to tell if Eclipse is really in love with Aika or if he just loves the concept of their nonexistent relationship

Eclipse has a lovely singing voice

His real name is Elio

LADY DeVOID

DeVoid was banished to space by a Star Guardian. For a LONG time she lived (unconsciously) as a sort of celestial being that would spit out monsters that the Star Guardians for many generations would have to face. While not ideal it was better than fighting DeVoid before she got to full power.

DeVoid finally wakes up in the present timeline, with no memories other than being banished by a Star Guardian and wanting revenge and knowing that she’s supposed to be able to create monsters. Unfortunately for her, she doesn’t remember how to use her powers. She doesn’t even remember her name, so she came up with “Lady DeVoid”

DeVoid loves human reality TV. Specifically competition shows. She loves how petty and evil people become

Reality TV is where most of her knowledge of humans comes from

Though DeVoid is pretty stoic, her ears are very expressive

DeVoid taught Eclipse how to do his makeup

She really likes Eclipse’s cooking

When she’s out and about she’s usually wearing sunglasses because it’s simply too bright for her

DeVoid does have to work a normal job in the human world and simply goes by “Dee”

People rarely question her appearance (because that’s just rude). But when people do ask what’s up with her horns she just says “it’s a condition” and that’s usually enough for people to just end the convo there.

MISS

Miss loves her job more than anything. She’s a very accomplished teacher and takes a lot of time to make sure all of her students succeed

Miss cares about Zira a lot. Always staying in her classroom just in case Zira wants to stop by for lunch, giving her advice or giving her extra tutoring as needed 

Because of Zira, Miss has become a closet Moon Sailor fan

Though Aika’s just started attending school, she and Miss have bonded quite a bit. Aika’s positive disposition and cheeriness bring Miss a lot of joy

Miss keeps her personal life (not that she really has one) out of work but finds herself opening up a little more than she’d like to Aika and Zira

Miss used to get really antsy during summer breaks, leading her to start teaching summer school to fill the time

Her workaholic nature was the reason for her and her ex-wife’s divorce

Miss has gone on one date since her divorce. The idea of having starting over is exhausting to her so she’s mostly okay just being single

Miss doesn’t really like coffee but she drinks a lot of it out of necessity

Miss has a ton of tattoos

[vaguely-concerned]

sometimes you come across a character that makes you go 'I love you so much that it's teaching me how to forgive myself' and then you just have to live with it

[mongeese]

Look. It doesn't matter at all but this is my most popular post and it drives me insane. I, personally, was not suggesting that we should ascribe the concept of "girl power" to Lady Macbeth. I made this joke to be a silly haha critique of the concept of girl power in general, and also as a comedic phrasing of a legitimate analysis question -- is Lady Macbeth's narrative role and agency intrinsically feminine, or is it in spite of her femininity? How does her gender play into her character's actions? More generally, how are the flaws and mistakes of female characters glossed over when we give them the girl power/girlboss treatment?

Instead the responses to this post are mostly people basically saying "yes! She's a girlboss who made terrible choices and we love that" which is like, fine. This was not a well thought-out post and I can't actually be mad at people for taking it at face value. Everyone is allowed to have fun I'm not annoyed at anyone in particular etc etc. However. I just need my followers to know that I am staunchly against the girlbossification of any and all female characters, including Lady Macbeth, and I think the girlboss/girl power "feminist" framework is useless and a little condescending, particularly when it contorts fundamentally flawed female characters into all-powerful all-competent #CoolGirls. Okay thank you goodnight no one get mad at me please

Did Lady Macbeth successfully utilize "girl power" when she convinced her husband to murder the king thus damning them both to a slow descent into insanity and eventual death?

[ddarker-dreams]

A Deal's a Deal.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, violence against minor characters, descriptions of anxiety, mentions of alcohol. Word count: 5k.

Next (TBA)

“... Sorry. This one’s no good either.” 

Sighing dejectedly, you sink into your seat. 

You can’t tell if your companion’s disappointed. He maintains a neutral countenance, betraying nothing of his inner thoughts. Still, you study him, awaiting some visual indication before moving the conversation forward. He must sense your intentions, for he catches your gaze and smiles. 

“Should we call it a day? You look tired.” 

“The hell? Isn’t it considered taboo to tell a lady she looks tired?” You grumble. “And here I thought you were Casanova incarnate. You’ve got to work on your charisma stats.” 

Chrollo shrugs halfheartedly. “What point is there if you’re immune to my many charms?” 

“Let’s be real — ‘many’ is overdoing it, a little humility won’t hurt. I commend your budding self-awareness, though. At least we’ve made progress on that front.” 

He hums, offering no rebuttal. You realize that you’ve perked back up, reinvigorated by his goading. He certainly knows how to get people going. Among his defining features, that’s one of the first you recognized; his uncanny way of orchestrating favorable outcomes. 

Sipping your preferred warm beverage, you canvass your surroundings. 

The café’s less crowded than when you came in. There are still a few students typing away on their laptops while consuming a concerning amount of caffeine. In the corner sits an elderly couple, whose order you overheard by virtue of the volume it was placed at — “Give me a regular coffee. Straight black, none of that ‘appaccino, grand venti’ nonsense. Decaf for my wife.” 

(You prayed for the barista’s sanity when he tried explaining the different ways ‘straight black’ could come). 

“... I am losing my touch, aren’t I?” Chrollo murmurs. You snap your head in his direction, having temporarily forgotten his existence. “You prefer older men?” 

You almost choke mid-sip. “Pleh…! That’s it, I’m retiring, good luck sorting your issues out.”

“You don’t mean that.” 

“How I wish you were wrong,” you deadpan. Lifting his phone off the table, you scroll through its contents. There’s nothing new to look at. “An exorcist, huh? You’re positive that’s a real thing?” 

“They exist. They’re just rare, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” 

“I blame the Protestant Reformation.” 

The skin beneath his eyes wrinkles. “... Cute.”  

His compliment makes you frown. 

“Quit it with the flattery, already.” 

“Flattery implies a degree of insincerity, no?” He challenges. “You of all people should know when I’m being genuine.” 

“You make it sound like I’m a walking polygraph.” 

His lips part and close as he considers his response. “That isn’t how I view you.” 

This guy’s clever with his word choice, you think. Too clever.

Disliking where this conversation might go, you redirect. 

“This ‘Hunter’ site you’ve been using… is there any way for me to access it?”

“Feeling a bit impatient, are we?” 

There’s a patronizing lilt to this tone that has you inhaling sharply. Closing your eyes, you ball your hands into fists, willing your agitated mind to relax. Your goal feels so close. This future you never believed possible dangles above your head, only to recede as if you were Tantalus whenever you grasp for it. Needling Chrollo won’t get you any closer, but at least it gives you something to do, mimicking progress. 

“The Hunter site has various measures in place to prevent account sharing. You don’t want to end up on their radar,” Chrollo retrieves his phone and tucks it into his coat’s pocket. “While your enthusiasm’s admirable, I suggest you leave this part to me.”

You swallow thickly. “... Right.” 

“Are you upset?” 

“No, I’m not,” you rest your hands on your lap. “Just, y’know. Reminded that we’re from two different worlds.” 

Outside the café’s windows, individuals from all walks of life bustle about. Some are on their phones, others chatting with friends, or holding their partner’s hands. It’s a picturesque display of normalcy. They’re likely thinking about what to have for dinner, when to set their alarm for the following day, if they can squeeze out of plans they halfheartedly agreed to over the weekend; you know this because you aspire to live the same way. 

“You’re closer to mine than you think.” 

A fervent disagreement blazes then turns to ash on your tongue. There’s an unidentifiable quality to his stare — neither kind nor outright malicious — almost clinical in its effort to elicit a reaction. You stir in your seat. Despite your time together, he’s as much an enigma as he’d been upon your first meeting. Charming and courteous, yet lacking genuine warmth, like a faux candle. 

“Do you get some kick out of riling me up?”

“Maybe a little,” he admits. “Your expressive nature is endearing. I can’t help myself.” 

His words resonate with such clarity that you can’t help but wish he’d been a little dishonest. 

“I’m not a toy for you to entertain yourself with.” 

His smile makes you squirm. 

“I know you aren’t.” 

“Then what—” you cut yourself off, fearing what might occur if you continue your original line of questioning. “Man, you’re exhausting to deal with. Has anyone ever told you that you have an awful personality?” 

“Few get to be around me enough to comment on its quality.” 

“I’m counting down the days until I’m no longer a member of that inner circle.” 

Before Chrollo can respond, his phone audibly vibrates. Newfound excitement overwhelms you at the sound. He glances at the notification and nods, confirming your speculation. He places it in your eager hands. While you prepare, he steeples his fingers and leans forward, intrigued as always with your work. 

You relax your breathing. This entire process is based on intuition, chasing after faint sensations until your desired outcome manifests. A pliable force thrums through you — what Chrollo refers to as ‘aura’ — awakening from its dormant state. Mindful of your public surroundings, you keep your dominant hand beneath the table. Where there was once nothing, a three-dimensional object rests snugly against your palm. Buttons of varying utility jut outward along its perimeter. This small item, shaped like a cassette recorder, stirs antipathy in your heart. 

Holding down rewind, the cassette whirrs to life. You prepare to record the latest audio note sent in for analysis. 

Instant Replay (One More Time!).

These past few months have seen your ability frequently leveraged. It was your personal conviction to refuse its use, lest paranoia eat away at you. However, freedom from this bondage necessitates further entanglement. You’ve parted with your long-standing morals, primed to pick through the syllables of others for your own purposes. 

Right and wrong no longer concern you. 

All you care about is surrendering this loathsome ability to the man sitting across the table. 

-

The night air is unforgiving in its chill. It infiltrates your layers of clothing with laughable ease, seeping into your marrow and demanding that you shiver as recompense. Gritting your teeth, you pick up your pace, cursing the parking garage’s elevator for being out of order. You knew parking at your friend’s apartment complex was sparse, but this is a new record. 

The heels of your shoes click against the concrete staircase as you rapidly ascend. A pale, yellowish hue illuminates your path, the lights occasionally flickering. The moon must be feeling shy tonight, for it hides behind thick, stationary clouds, refusing the world its silvery guidance.

Upon arriving on the third floor, you hear an ominous crackle in the distance. 

The consequences are immediate. Intuition tells you to pause, goosebumps erupting over your flesh from head to toe. Darkness swallows your surroundings whole in inky blots. Blinking rapidly, your eyes struggle to adjust. You feel around for your phone and turn the flashlight on. The sudden loss of power perplexes you, did the building’s breaker trip? From what you can see, the rest of the street is unaffected. 

You’re about to resume your journey when you feel something cold press against your temple. 

“Don’t move,” a deep voice demands. The roar of a car’s engine echoes nearby, as does the hurried screech of tires. “Not so much as a fucking inch.” 

Anxiety sets your every nerve aflame. You go stiff as a corpse, and perhaps you may have been mistaken for one, if not for the thunderous pounding of your heart. The moisture in your mouth dries up. Tortuous seconds drag on, devoid of any further commands. You’re ready to offer up your purse, wallet, or anything else he insists on, but he’s eerily silent. 

A pair of approaching headlights blind you. 

Is this more than a robbery? You struggle to comprehend the nightmarish events. The man holding you hostage radiates agitation, shifting his weight from foot to foot. In doing so, the barrel drags along your sweat-slicked skin. His apparent sloppiness has you weak in the knees — it’s your life hanging in the balance, why is he acting like the situation is reversed? 

Abruptly, the vehicle veers off course, crashing into a line of parked cars. A terrible cacophony follows. Glass shatters, metal debris shrieks whilst scattering, and car alarms angrily sound in disunity. What you’re witnessing doesn’t feel like real life. Your disbelief is mutual, for the man holding you captive spews curses.

You hear a click by your side; the gun’s safety being disengaged. 

“Shit!” He maneuvers you in the direction of the crash like you’re a shield. “There’s no way we were followed, no way, we did everything perfect—” 

The man never finishes his sentence. 

There’s a wet gurgle, then a wheeze, as something warm splatters on you from behind. Bile rises up your throat as the wretched noises continue. He must’ve fallen to the ground, for you no longer sense his lumbering presence, or feel the cold kiss of metal on your skin. Regardless, you refuse to budge. You squeeze your eyes shut and tremble wildly. 

“There, there. You’re safe now. ♥” A rich baritone speaks from behind. 

His declaration comes out discordant, belying the reassuring contents. You bristle at the new threat that’s presented itself. If what came before was a house cat, then this is an apex predator, the king of the jungle. The air around him feels oppressive, almost noxious. Even without a firearm directed at you, your panic reaches its zenith, soaring to heights untraversed. 

“Hm? Still scared? Ah, that’s right,” he muses to himself. “Chrollo said you’re sensitive to dishonesty. This could be troublesome.” 

“You… you know Chrollo?” 

“So you’re not in a catatonic state — how reassuring.” 

Slowly, you turn around, sensing a distinct lack of ill intent. Flashlight in hand, you try to make sense of what you witness. The scene that greets you is gruesome beyond your wildest expectations. The man who you assume held you at gunpoint has collapsed onto the ground, his jugular slit clean. Blood gushes from the wound like a geyser, forming a crimson puddle around his head. His eyes are wide, bloodshot, nearly bulging from the sockets. Liquids ooze from every visible orifice and a foul odor rises alongside them. This pitiful creature could’ve been your end. Instead, he met his, departing this world in abject terror. 

Unexpectedly, his muscles twitch. Out of reflex, you jump back and yelp. 

“Rest assured, he’s dead as a doornail.” 

“Why…” you wet your dry lips, “What… what just…?” 

While you stumble over your words, the building’s power makes a triumphant return. The lights flash intermittently, then go steady, allowing you an unobscured vantage point. Before you stands a tall, bizarrely dressed individual, with bright red hair. His beady, yellow eyes have a predatory gleam to them that he doesn’t bother suppressing. He holds a playing card in his claw-like hands, the three of spades. 

It’s coated in fresh blood. 

Your eyes fall to the fatal wound on your assailant's throat, the gears in your head turning. 

You take a step back. 

“Let’s try this again, shall we?” With a flick of his wrist, the offending card disappears, though its memory burns strong. “I’m Hisoka, Chrollo’s… colleague of sorts. Now, there’s no need to introduce yourself. I’m well acquainted with you. ♥” 

Is that supposed to make you feel better? 

You couldn’t hide your suspicion if you tried. At the very least, there’s no indication that was a lie. However, his familiarity with you is a double-edged sword. If he’s crafty, he can outmaneuver your ability. Dishonesty isn’t black and white, there are loopholes to avoiding your detection. For instance, one can remain purposefully oblivious, lie by omission, or speak in vague terms. These gray areas pass you by as if you lacked this ‘sixth sense’ to begin with. 

He was lying when he said I’m safe now, you recall. But he doesn’t seem interested in harming me…? Something isn’t adding up.

After much deliberation, you ask, “So you just happened to run into me?” 

“Nope. I’ve been following you,” he freely admits. Your aghast expression makes him laugh. “What’s the matter? You were baiting me for the truth, were you not? You’re welcome to have it. ♦” 

In your heightened state of sensitivity, you sense multiple presences converging nearby. Security guards, if you had to guess. You weigh your options. If you stay here, you’ll undoubtedly be harassed for a story that explains the chaos. Telling the truth would land you in a straight jacket whereas deception guarantees cuffs. Leaving in your car is off the table too, you’d be dubbed an important witness. There’s no way you can claim you drove by the carnage without noticing anything. 

“I can help get you out of this debacle,” he offers. “We’re both seeking the same end — the return of Chrollo’s Hatsu. The latest recording I’ve obtained is most promising. So, I’d rather we don’t continue this conversation in prison. ♣” 

Hisoka takes a step forward and extends his hand.

The security guards are getting closer, you think. There’s no time left.

And so you make your choice. 

-

You didn’t think places like these existed outside of the movies, or maybe you just don’t get around enough. 

You’ve found yourself in what you can only describe as a biker’s bar. The decor is old-fashioned, slightly worn yet authentic. There are pool tables, too many televisions to count, and a functioning jukebox nestled in the corner. Rough-looking men wearing leather jackets make up the main clientele. Fortunately, it’s Hisoka who draws the most attention, his gaudy getup acting as a magnet for the eyes. No one pays you any mind. 

For the second time this week, a weirdo treats you to drinks. The main difference is that this is a depressant and not a stimulant. 

You take hearty sips to calm your nerves. All that happened feels so surreal, like a collection of grotesque images that would be blurred out in a documentary. This is exactly what you wanted to avoid. You want to be normal, untethered by the oddity that is Nen, the ‘world’ Chrollo inhabits. You decided long ago that nothing good can come from it. Maybe if you were more adventurous, prone to taking high risks for high rewards. 

But you’re not. 

Endless money, power, and influence don’t sound appealing. Sure, there’s an allure initially, until you consider reality. Lots of money means either lots of taxes or lots of tax evasion. You barely know what a W-2 form is, much less the hoops you’d have to jump through if your income exploded. Power and influence aren’t all they’re cracked up to be either. All that scheming to stay at the top would take away from what makes life truly worth living — reading Wikipedia articles and watching eight-hour-long videos analyzing a video game from two decades ago. 

“Holy shit,” you press pause on the cassette recorder. “This Abengane guy’s the real deal.” 

“Oh?” 

“He’s familiar with getting rid o’ Nen. During his… huh, what’s it called again… oh. Yeah. Audition. Durin’ his audition for Greedy Island—” 

“ —Greed Island.” 

You wave his correction off. 

“—Yeah, yeah, whatever. But, basically, he’s legit. How’d ya even come across this?” 

“Magic. ♥” 

You make a face. “Is everyone who uses Nen annoying?” 

“Some more than others.” 

Speak of the devil. Craning your neck, you’re met with piercing gray eyes. Unlike Hisoka, Chrollo isn’t dressed like he’s auditioning for the circus. Instead, he comes across as a guy who’s going to pitch the worst idea for a startup you’ve ever heard. He’s wearing a dark blazer with a gray turtleneck beneath it, along with white pants and black loafers. You’re about to make your joke known when something about Chrollo’s demeanor changes your mind. Intensity pours off him in waves, giving you pause. 

“Good news, boss. We found your exorcist.”

The title Hisoka uses to refer to him has you tilting your head. He did refer to himself as Chrollo’s ‘colleague,’ but the word boss implies hierarchy. 

“I heard,” Chrollo smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m surprised you’re not rushing back to Greed Island to track him down.” 

He slides into the booth beside you while never looking away from Hisoka. The tension brewing in the air perplexes you. Shouldn’t this news be a cause for celebration? You’ve helped Chrollo search for a Nen exorcist for months now. Chrollo’s been searching for a Nen exorcist for months now. You’re uncertain what reaction you expected, but it certainly wasn’t this. 

“All in due time. I’d hate to cut my time with your little assistant short.”

Hisoka makes a point of looking you up and down. 

Somehow, Hisoka has made Chrollo seem normal by comparison. Disliking the attention, you reach for your drink, only to notice how light it is. Have you already drunk that much? While inspecting the near-empty glass, you realize the room’s starting to feel warm. The stress of what you endured must’ve impaired your judgment. 

What time is it, anyway? Do I have work tomorrow? 

Your watch reads 2:05 a.m.

Shit. 

“I need— need to get going…” 

“Why the rush?” Hisoka questions. “Things were just starting to get interesting. ♥” 

You ignore him and stare Chrollo down, waiting for him to move aside so you can leave. Instead of getting up, he leans closer, pursing his lips. This is the closest you’ve ever been to him. Heat creeps over your face, from your cheeks to your ears. There’s no denying that the bastard’s handsome. Your friends love teasing you about him for that very reason. They never believe your insistence on having a ‘strictly platonic’ relationship, some even have bets for when you’ll end up together. 

Maybe you would’ve considered it if you didn’t know about his Nen proficiency. 

There aren’t any readily available statistics for Nen, but if you had to guess, you’d say most of the population is ignorant of its existence. People who do know about the Hunter’s Association consider it a private enterprise that specializes in exploration and taking on contract jobs. According to Chrollo, this is by design. You can barely go about your day pretending there aren’t superhumans roaming the planet, doing all sorts of crazy nonsense. 

Society would plunge into chaos if the knowledge reached them. 

You hear what sounds like your name coming from underwater. 

Blinking sluggishly, you discover Chrollo’s hand on your shoulder. “Hm? What?” 

“I’ve been calling your name,” he speaks languidly, likely for your benefit. “Are you alright?” 

“Well…” you trail off, pondering the question. “... Mm, yeah, probably not. I gotta get home, and— god, my car— it’s still back there. I don’t want… I can’t…” 

The anxiety you thought you buried resuscitates itself. It’s dull compared to earlier, yet your breathing grows shallow and your hands feel clammy. Your intenses churn like a parasite had been embedded inside. Everything feels far away, as if you’re in a dream, physically present yet mentally adrift. 

You could’ve died. 

You almost died. 

You’d fought desperately to scrub your mind of this knowledge, but the bottle can only do so much. 

“Say, Chrollo,” with a nearly imperceptible motion, Hisoka summons a playing card between his middle and pointer fingers. “If I were to slice her pretty neck, what would you do?”  

The old-fashioned glass Hisoka had been sipping from cracks. 

Pressure invades the air like a thick, heady fog, so tangible in its potency, that the chatter elsewhere dies down. The sudden silence allows for the clinging of billiard balls to reverberate throughout. Patrons glance around, vaguely aware that something is wrong, yet ultimately unable to identify the source. This primal sense of foreboding evaporates as swiftly as it arrives. The lively atmosphere reemerges, until all present seem to have forgotten anything unusual ever occurred. 

Hisoka absentmindedly cleans up the glass shards, piling them into the corner while Chrollo drums his fingers along the table. Chrollo’s jaw is set and the skin between his eyes is pinched in contemplation. 

Hisoka lets out an exaggerated sigh. “This is turning into a bore. I was confident you’d lose your cool, even if just a bit…” 

“Pathetic.” 

The unexpected vitriol has them both turning their heads in your direction. Chrollo blinks, while Hisoka tilts his head, staring at you owlishly. 

He points to himself. “Me?” 

“Yeah, you! You’re like— one of those birds, those showoff birds… dancing with your colorful feathers… ‘nd stuff…” your speech isn’t the most coherent, unaided by the irritation that’s boiling your blood. You leer at him, fed up with everything, especially whatever schemes he’s roped you into. A rough picture is presenting itself, one stroke at a time. To Hisoka, you’re nothing more than glorified bait. You don’t know if he played a role in engineering the evening’s events, but it wouldn’t be a surprise. 

At the very least, he admitted to following you. Even if he was a third party, he could’ve disposed of the impending threat. Instead, he waited, exposing you to bloodshed for his own ends. You wish you could come up with a more scathing insult. Unfortunately, your temple is throbbing and clear enunciation grows harder as your body digests the liquor you inhaled. 

Hisoka looks at Chrollo. “I’m a bird?” 

“She’s calling your bluff,” Chrollo clarifies. “Had you intended to follow up on your threat, she’d know.” 

You’re glad Chrollo realized what you were going for. The diatribe sounded better in your head. Nonetheless, he’s communicated the essence of things, lacking as it is in panache. Hisoka hums, eyeing you like you’d make for a fine appetizer before the main course. 

“You must have kept that detail from me on purpose. What an intriguing ability. ♥” 

Chrollo brushes aside his comment and refocuses his attention on you. “I’ll drive you home.” 

“But my car—” 

“I’ll handle it,” Chrollo reassures. 

He slides out from the booth and stares at you expectantly. You get the sense that trying his patience isn’t a good idea; his encounter with Hisoka must have soured his mood. He helps steady you as you stand, securing his arm behind your back. Neither of you acknowledges Hisoka while making for the door, though you can feel his eyes tracking your every movement. 

Upon emerging from the bar, the cool air you deplored earlier feels like a godsend. You hear cars rushing up and down the street, indicating the presence of a highway. Other than that, you don’t recognize the area. It’s a small, decrepit outlet, featuring shops plastered with neon signs and bars over the windows.

Chrollo ushers you in the direction of a black, unmarked McLaren.

“If you’re gonna do all that, at least get a less basic color… like pink…” 

“I’ll give it some thought.” 

Once you’re in the passenger seat, he fixes the strap of your purse and then buckles you in. It isn’t long until you’re on the road. He stays in the slow lane, mindful to avoid abrupt motions. You recline back and rest your head, hugging your arms close to your body. At the next red light, he sheds his coat, draping it over your person. The cashmere fabric is soft on your skin, embedded with his cologne and warmth. This, paired with the low hum of the engine has your eyelids growing heavy. You try resisting the temptation. 

“Thank you.” 

“Hm? For what?” 

“... Are you serious?” you murmur. “For comin’ to get me.” 

“Of course.” 

Relief rushes over you as the surrounding area becomes recognizable. Traffic is nonexistent this time of night, it shouldn’t be but a few more minutes until you’re home. Then you can crash out on your bed and deal with the existential weight of reality in the morning. Work can fire you for all you care, you just want to sleep. If you were on your deathbed, you’re ninety percent positive they’d ask you to find shift coverage before you croaked. 

Chrollo pulls into your apartment complex, parking as close to the entrance as he can. 

You fiddle with your seatbelt, intending to make the rest of the trip by yourself.

He places his large, calloused hand over yours, preventing further progress. 

“... Chrollo?” 

He doesn’t respond. His thumb rubs slow, steady circles against your skin. You swallow a growing lump in your throat. He hasn’t been himself all night. Or, to be more precise, he’s showing you a side of himself he’s hitherto kept hidden. You always knew there was more to him than he let on. You never wanted to open that Pandora's box, lest your plans be jeopardized. Playing with fire has its risks, yet cauterizing your personal wounds took priority. You don’t know if you have the right to pray the rest of your being doesn’t go up in flames. 

“I assume you’re aware of my fondness for you?” 

“I— well…” you stumble over your words, then meekly ask, “Is now really a good time for this?” 

Chrollo lowers his head and smiles. “No, I suppose not.” 

An uncomfortable silence hangs in the air. 

“One more question, then I’ll let you go,” he looks up at you through thick lashes, an enigmatic gleam passing over his eyes. “Do I frighten you?” 

Your body tenses. He addresses you so softly, so sweetly, had you not witnessed his mouth moving, you would’ve mistaken his voice for belonging to another. Your facilities aren’t functional enough to properly process his query. Perhaps that’s the point — him cornering you at this vulnerable junction. You don’t get why. You don’t think you could even if you were sober. 

Chrollo, for his part, seems to acknowledge he won’t get far in your current state.

Or maybe he gleaned his answer.

He lifts your hand to his lips, where he presses a lingering kiss. You can’t bring yourself to be the first to pull away. He lingers a while longer, as if stuck in a trance. When he does part, the skin tingles in his absence.

“I’ll be in touch.” 

-

For the past week, you’ve carried on as if nothing ever happened. 

It’s easier this way. There are instances where your performance is threatened, like when you ran across a news article detailing the ‘grisly murder of two men at a parking garage on 9th St,’ yet these lapses can be smoothed over. Ignore, distract, forget. This cycle lends you a credence of normalcy and eases you back into everyday life. 

You haven’t seen Chrollo since that night. You suppose he’s preoccupied with his arrangements to meet the Nen exorcist. While you don’t know the specifics, you imagine he’ll have to meet this Abengane in person. In the recording, he addressed two men — named Battera and Tsezguerra — where he proved himself qualified to enter ‘Greed Island.’ Aside from a few anonymous forums, information on this mythical game is sparse. All you know is that the price is exorbitant and that Battera obsessively tracks down every copy available. 

Wherever there’s Nen, things inevitably get weird, you think.

You begin tidying up your apartment. First is drying off the dishes, which saw their first use all week for a much-needed home-cooked meal. While doing so, your phone vibrates. You throw the damp rag down in a hurry and check the screen. All you find is a notification about your upcoming menstrual cycle. Sighing, you put your phone down on the counter. 

Chrollo had been truthful when he promised to take your Hatsu for assisting in the return of his. A part of you is relieved by his absence; the other is frustrated. You want to get this over with. It’s like when you have an appointment later in the day and spend the time leading up to it in a limbo, not wanting to get involved in anything until the commitment is over. Is it possible he already took it? Curious, you hold your dominant hand out. You haven’t used Instant Replay since the night at the biker’s bar. 

Aura surges through you, concentrating at the palm of your hand. Much to your disappointment, the light pink cassette tape appears. Maybe it no longer works? As a test, you rewind the recording of the audio Chrollo provided at the café. Once primed, you press play, listening attentively for certain cues. 

“It is my great honor to profess that I, Lilith, can purge you of any ailment, even scourges derived from Nen — for a small donation of…” 

The self-proclaimed Mistress of Panaceas sounds increasingly garbled as her lies surface. Clicking your tongue, you deactivate your ability. Everything remains operational. You don’t know what you expected, you’ve overheard the telltale sounds of lying the past few days. It just hasn’t been directed at you, which weakens the effect. 

Will you really have to endure this the rest of your life? 

Shortly into resuming your task, there’s a knock at your door. 

You ignore it, not in the mood to deal with a neighbor asking for something. After thirty or so seconds, there’s another round of knocking. You suppress a groan. Why can’t the world sense that you’re moody and let you brood in peace? Trudging over, you try to put on a pleasant face, unwilling to lash out on others even if you’re in a terrible mood. Erring on the side of caution, you glance out the peephole. 

Upon doing so, you almost lose your balance.

…

He must’ve decided he kept you waiting long enough.

[wholemeallbread]

rin would absolutely hate cupid!reader...

his first words to you when you appeared after his moments of shock were anything but nice. multiple times he has tried to shoo you away, whether that be through intimidation or physically trying to do so.

love has never been something he's been interested in. he's fancied his brother's girlfriend ever since they started dating, sure, but that's about it. it's distracting, it's useless, something that he doesn't need in life, but you still insist! you're even giggling as you search for a potential suitor, asking for his preferences, asking if they're attractive, you even do a little fantasising yourself.

he didn't care who you shot your arrows at in the beginning. a girl all over him? he'll ignore her until you remove the spell out of pity. a guy following him everywhere he goes in the distance? concerning, but he's a master at ignorance.

but eventually, rin started doing whatever it takes to make sure he was not the first person the poor victim set eyes upon. hiding, running, even going as far as to stop your arrow, he'll do anything. he hasn't acted like this before until recently, and this was completely out of character for him. is he scared? scared of romance? what a joke.

or, perhaps he's found himself a lucky someone? you don't mind helping! if he wants a more natural effect, you could always turn down the potency of your tricks. when you ask, his response is: "there's not a single human i like."

human, he says. because there's no way rin would ever admit the one person he fell for was you, and he's more than convinced that you've done something to him. why is his heart beating so fast? why is he blushing? he has to clutch his chest whenever you're not looking, because that's how strong his affection for you is.

can't you just shoot the arrow at him instead?

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Hey there!

This month felt endless, am I right? Can’t believe it’s finally over.

This is a list of all the fics I read in January, I started writing it at the beginning of the month so they are in chronological order based on when I read them.

There’s a lot of stories but I still feel like I haven’t read enough lol

I loved every single work on this list so I highly recommend for you to read them and give some love to authors! They’re unbelievably talented and bring so much joy to this fandom, someone even in my life but this is another story.

I put the link to the Masterlist for series, so you can see all the chapters, some of them are ongoing and some are finished.

Please mind the tags and warnings to make sure a story doesn’t trigger you and makes you uncomfortable, I’m not responsible for what you choose to read, only you are.

Happy reading!

❋ Consume - @sunshineispunk

Stepdad!Joel x reader , DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

❋ Liquid Gold - @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Joel Miller x f pregnant!reader x Tommy Miller

You are super pregnant and currently miserable after a third trimester issue crops up. You don’t know how to fix it, and Joel is determined to make you comfortable again. Will he come up with the right solution or are you going to spend the last few weeks of your pregnancy in awful pain? (Lactat!on kink)

❋ The First Time - @fettuccin-e

Frankie Morales x afab!reader

Size kink

❋ Mouthful - @pedgito

Joel miller x reader

Joel finds the perfect way to keep you quiet while he showers you with compliments.

❋ Holiday Heat - @baronessvonglitter

Joel Miller x f!reader

Only one bed trope, grumpy x sunshine, age gap, strangers to lovers

Sharing a hotel room with a grumpy (and handsome) stranger while a storm makes travel inaccessible. What could possibly go wrong?

❋ The Warden - @arcanefox207

Joel Miller x f!reader - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

Your hike into the woods doesn’t go as planned when a depraved Game Warden catches you breaking the rules.

❋ Quicksand - @javier-pena

Pedro's unnamed character in Materialists x f!reader

You meet a stranger at a party

❋ Borrowed Time - @aurorawritestoescape

Joel Miller x f!reader

Joel and you are enjoying an ideal vacation together. Warm ocean, white sand, soft kisses, and hot sex make it feel like paradise. But as your time here is running out, the thoughts that you‘ve been trying to keep at bay start eating at your soul.

❋ After hours - @mssalo

Sub!Joel x Dom f!reader

❋ Wandering Hands - @gothcsz

Javier Peña x f!reader

Javi can't keep his hands off you during a dinner with some friends.

❋ Strangers - @joelmillerisapunk

Stripper!Javier Peña x f!reader

you meet a sexy stripper at your bestie's bachelorette party and he tries his absolute hardest to get your number

❋ Law of Attraction - @baronessvonglitter (Series Masterlist link)

Dave York x f!reader - Romcom AU

Dealing with emotions is difficult when you and Dave realize how you really feel about each other. When a night in turns sour, you seek help from an unexpected source.

❋ Easy - @slowdivinqs

Joel Miller x f!reader

waking Joel up in the best way possible.

❋ Bad blood - @aurorawritestoescape (Series Masterlist link)

you want your stepdad and your step uncle offers to help

step uncle Joel Miller x f!reader x stepdad Tommy Miller

❋ Never have I ever - @wannab-urs

Dieter Bravo x afab!reader

You and Dieter play never have I ever and it gets spicy.

❋ My paramour, my evermore - A Joel Miller Story - @schnarfer (Knights and Kings AU)

Joel Miller x f!reader

Joel Miller is the loss of your life

❋ Let's Go - @thundermartini DBF!Joel x f!reader

you decide to channel your inner party girl on this Friday night. But things won’t go as planned. You’ll get even more from this night than a dance in a club and free drinks from strangers. (Or, I just wanted a pretext to imagine bouncer!joel railing me in the back room of a club.

❋ Yes ma’am - @sizzlingcloudmentality

Dave York x dominatrix!reader

life goes sideways and Dave is close to snapping. he needs professional help. aka let himself be dominated and be at the receiving end for once. good thing he has your number.

❋ Untitled - @aurorawritestoescape

Joel’s twin x f!reader || 500 words

❋ Girl Dinner - @slimybeth69 Dead dove do not eat (Series Masterlist link)

Joel Miller x f!reader

After the civilized world you once knew came to an end-- the men that survived... well they just take, take, take. Growing tired of having things taken from you-- you have a hankerin' to take somethin' for yourself... and make him perfect.

❋ Foxglove Downs - @whocaresstillthelouvre (Series Masterlist link)

Marcus Acacius x f!reader x Lucius Verus

In the exclusive realm of elite show jumping, where wealth stretches as far as the polished estates, Marcus Acacius and Lucius Verus are locked in a fierce competition that reaches far beyond the arena.

❋ No strings to hold me down - @baronessvonglitter

fwb!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Enjoying the freedom of being friends with benefits with Joel Miller, a new emotion flares when you see him out with someone much younger.

❋ What’s a Tomdaya? - @604to647

Modern!Pero Tovar x fem!reader

Pero regrets getting into a group chat with your friends

❋ Prisoner - @almostempty

f!reader x Din Djarin

this time our fav bounty hunter is the bounty and you're on a mission to capture him and claim your reward

❋ Final part of the neighbor series - Masterlist - @gothcsz

Javier Peña x f!reader

❋ All the good girls go to hell - Masterlist - @aurorawritestoescape

Stepdad!Joel Miller x f!reader

you can't stop thinking about your stepdad so you do something risky to have a little more of him. But Joel is not the "little more" kind of guy.

❋ Close-up - @milla-frenchy

Joel Miller x f!reader

Joel receives a script that takes him back to the memories of your love story. He realizes that out of protective instinct after the break up, he has not been honest neither with his own feelings nor with you

❋ El cumpleañero - @gothcsz

Javier Peña x f!reader

It's Javier's birthday, so you show up to his party and things get fun.

❋ Reincarnated - @joelmillerisapunk

Joel Miller x f!reader

A late-night text from an unknown number stirs up memories you thought you’d buried. It’s been years since Joel walked out of your life, but now he’s back. Old wounds resurface, boundaries blur, and the question lingers: is this a second chance or just another heartbreak waiting to happen?

❋ Leather and Lace - @probablyreadinsmut

Javier Peña x f!reader

Javier Peña is back in Loredo after retiring from the DEA. He's horny and looking for something new. That's when he finds you.

❋(Un)faithful - @probablyreadinsmut

Rbf!Javier x Married!Reader

Your marriage is lackluster, your sex life even more so. When your best friend Javier finds out, lines are crossed and lives are changed forever.

❋ some thoughts on hbf (husband's best friend) joel @baronessvonglitter / Drabble

❋ BDSMaid - @mountainsandmayhem (Series Masterlist link)

After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

[maidenvault]

I wish you'd all just say that you don't think art and media is important. Seriously. I said literally nothing against sharing headcanons or having fun but the responses to this make me want to double down and be the huge fucking snob about this the most bad-faith reactions make me out to be.

Words have meanings. "Interpretation" means explaining the meaning of something. The original definition is literally translating from one language to another. By definition an interpretation is beholden to what's actually there in the text, even if it's a really complex text that might lead to differing ones, and one that misrepresents what's there in canon is a misinterpretation. Interpretation is not just your knee-jerk takeaway from reading/watching something or your preferred way of seeing your blorbo's sexuality and you don't need validation for every thought that crosses your mind about canon.

Most everyone can see why spreading misinformation about history and unquestioningly accepting it when you see it is a problem. If some kind of video game was found to be somehow destroying children's ability to think about math correctly, everybody would get why that's a problem. But you can tell yourself art, especially popular media, doesn't matter the same way because it's for entertainment. When the fact that nearly everyone enjoys these things does make them matter, and the fields of study devoted to analyzing them exist for a reason and aren't less important. The shows you watch reflect the real world whether you care or not, and they affect how you see the world whether you care or not. You don't have to turn fandom into homework, but knowing how to apply the absolute bare-minimum critical thinking skills to anything you watch/read isn't just a way to enrich the experience, it's a kind of basic responsibility for yourself and what you spend hours a day feeding into your brain.

"But I'm just here to have fun" This is what I was talking about, it's always "just for fun" when it's convenient to say that. It's disingenuous to pretend this is only a hobby for everyone. Fandoms don't constantly make a huge stink about queerbaiting, fridging female characters, burying your gays, the harm of bad representation, or even just bad writing in general because this is all just about passively consuming things for fun. You can't get all serious about how something you didn’t like in your show was "character assassination" and then clutch your pearls when someone says "Why though, what's your evidence?"

Yes, most art is for enjoyment, but I can't imagine there are a lot of writers with any pride in their craft who wouldn't be kind of insulted to hear "I love your work, what really makes it hit right is turning my brain off while I enjoy it!" Even if a work is bad and you want to challenge it, it helps to have a good grasp of what the canon is doing and how that doesn't work for you. I'm sorry I don't think your teachers were all just making things up about the curtains and bullshitting you. So sorry that I care. :(

Not “Only my reading of canon is correct” or “Interpretations are subjective and all valid” but a secret third thing, “More than one interpretation can be valid but there’s a reason your English teacher had you cite quotes and examples in your papers, you have to have a strong argument that your interpretation is actually supported by the text or it is just wrong and I’m fine with telling you it’s wrong, actually.”

[grandline-fics]

The quote "No, don't give me those puppy-dog eyes!" with Trafalgar Law and possibly with gn!reader? (If not, then afab!Reader is fine too!)

Thank you. ✨

DESCRIPTION: Prompt: “No! Don’t give me those puppy-dog eyes!”

WARNINGS: none

CHARACTERS: Law

WORDS: 750

A/N: Thank you so much for this request. I struggled a lot with coming up with a situation for Law and this prompt but I hope I was able to bring something together to your liking. Hope you all enjoy and thank you all for your support

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI

————————

“Law?” Law’s back went rigid at the sound of your voice drifting towards him. He knew that lilt, that almost innocent call, searching for him and the call a precursor to hear his response in order to gauge his mood before speaking what it was you truly wanted from him. To anyone else that would seem considerate, given how busy he was being both Captain and doctor for the ship. But to Law when he heard your call it set him on edge because he never knew what to expect. He heard the soft knock on his door and braced himself. Slowly he looked up just as your head poked into the doorway. Your bright gaze met his and you smiled. “Law? You busy?”

“I’m researching the island we’re heading to.” Law began carefully, watching as you came further into the room, letting the door shut behind you. He kept his eyes on you, taking in your soft smile and slow movements towards his desk. Lightly he cleared his throat and briefly tightened his hold on the book lying open in front of him, trying his best not to lose track of his work when you were around. “And after that I was to check on Bepo since he’s got the navigation charts.” You stopped at the side of his desk and nodded, lips pursing at his words. “What did you need?”

“Not need really but…” You began, reaching over to curl your finger around his hand that still held the book on the desk. At your touch Law immediately reciprocated by entwining his fingers with yours. He knew what was coming when you let out a small sigh before continuing. “If you weren’t busy I was wondering if I could get a hug?”

Law let out a small huff of amusement and got to his feet, his smile growing when you immediately closed the distance to wrap your arms around him, your body relaxing more when his arms pulled you closer. He knew he’d been busy lately and hated how his relationship with you had to be made less of a priority. The two of you only got to see each other at meals and at nighttime but in those moments you were both either surrounded by the rest of the crew or so tired you both barely got to give the other a goodnight kiss before immediately falling asleep. Now that he was holding you again, he was reluctant to pull away but he still had a lot more research to do. 

Squeezing you one more time and pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head, Law made a move to let you go and return to his desk only to stop when your arms tightened and you shook your head against his chest. Law all but kicked himself for not seeing this coming. One of you had to be strong, and unfortunately for him, it had to be his task. Gently Law rubbed your back and gently spoke your name only to sigh when you let out a grumble against him. “C’mon just another couple of hours and then I’m all yours. Okay?”

“Law?” He flinched at that same innocent tone and slowly looked down just as you peered up at him, unleashing the full power of your stare, compelling and fierce. 

“No! Don’t give me those puppy-dog eyes!” Law all but groaned down at you, unable to look away. How did you make your eyes shine like that in moments like these when you wanted your own way. Worse still he knew his resolve was crumbling faster and this was only going to go one way. 

“Please just a little longer?” You asked, attacking the final flimsy thread of Law’s restraint with your softly spoken request. “Five minutes and then I’ll let you work?” Law bit the inside of his mouth and cursed himself for being so weak for you. Immediately he used his shambles to take you both to the sofa in the room and pulled you close, unable to stop his own smile from growing when you beamed up at him happily before you got cosy in his arms. With a content sigh you nuzzled in close and absently wondered if you’d be able to stretch out this cuddle with your boyfriend a little longer than your previously requested five minutes. If any of the past times were anything to go by then yes, yes you could and you definitely would.

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa, @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @chillerkiller , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya ,  @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @its-a-dam-blue-brick , @thulhu , @appalost , @dindjarins1ut , @irumawife , @laidenbreecatchall , @redwolfxx , @jevoislesbrasdemer , @schanwow

[sphireath-wisp]

#Backstage Pass!

Synopsis -> What an electrifying performance, it was worth all that money and time waiting. It was so good that you wanted an encore - in private, with less talking and more action.

Warnings -> Not proofread, all aged up, suggestive, language, Rin is objectively sweeter than Sae and Kaiser, mean Sae and Kaiser

Featuring -> Michael Kaiser, Sae Itoshi, Rin Itoshi x F! Reader

"Oh, of course, you like MICHAEL KAISER, of all people," You force a sarcastic smirk, eyebrows creasing as if you eye her up and down as if you were judging her for some sort of malefaction. Honestly speaking, you should have foreseen this. You're the one who wants to go to the concert; you dragged your friend along so it wouldn't be a solo trip, but she's developed a liking for the blonde boy. He's the playboy type who goes on stage shirtless, flaunting the ink adorning his skin. Even when he makes the gracious decision to wear a solid-coloured tank top, it doesn't take away any attention from the prominent cerulean rose blooming on his throat. Her blase favouritism of Kaiser was nothing new.

Beneath the charisma - so lamentable, it was laudable, Kaiser had an ego that reached for the stars. But it was his solipsism that made him such a star, an unbreakable confidence that shined even brighter as he played. It's unusual for a bassist to get so much attention in a band, but everything was absurd about Kaiser in the first place. And the worst part is: he had the skill to back it up, every single shit-eating grin.

"An encore?" You watch Kaiser mouth out to the audience, and the crowd goes wild - especially the fans with the tips of their hair dyed a gaudy blue. Your friend shakes you back and forth, spilling a mix of 'thank yous' and 'ohmygosh' past her lips. His grin only grows wider as he hears the crowd cheer, almost expectantly, like the crowd was supposed to meet his expectations.

"You have a backstage pass, right? Do you think I could snatch his number?" Your friend nudges you, readily waiting for a supportive response. You hum - pretending to think so you wouldn't have to turn her down so flatly. "He's kissed fans before, so you'll need to try your luck, yeah?" You give your friend a comforting pat on the back, but you're the one who needs to reassure yourself, "Anyway, he's just eye candy, right?" She nods insouciantly: after all, it's not like they know each other.

When you see her soothing smile, for a split second, you wonder if you're being too critical of Kaiser. Your friend seems to enjoy the concert, maybe this has created common ground for you and her to bond. This smug bastard and his god-given charm may actually be a blessing in disguise.

"Don't you know how to swallow? You're drooling," You soon learn that you're a good judge of character when Kaiser forces his thumb into your mouth. You realize that your gut has always been right, and you can't decipher whether the uncomfortable churning in your stomach is due to butterflies or the sickening taste of nail polish on your tongue. Gosh, you feel like an idiot for doubting yourself and, most of all, doubting how much of a bastard he can be. Kaiser pulls you closer on his lap as if he couldn't get enough of your Carolina Herrera, and palms the swell of your ass when you scrape your teeth over his knuckle.

Your nails, freshly coated in a shade of rose that disgustingly reminds him more of that keyboardist than himself, scratch his forearm on their way up to his clavicle, leaving a trail of hot fire in their wake. Your raspberry-flushed skin matches his, especially when your fingers - more suited for loving than burning - wrap around the expanse of his neck and threaten to crush his airways. His fingers are out of your mouth, and his breath is already lost before anything has begun; you're starting to see the appeal in womanizers when his half-lidded eyes - glossy and lovestruck - stare with a shimmer that rivals stars.

"Didn't expect to find a beauty like you in the crowd, but you were giving me such a dirty look," His words are coated in honey, like flattering women is second nature for him. Your grip unconsciously loosens at his praise, and he uses his newfound leeway to capture your lips in his. He smells like Maison Margiela's Jazz Club, rum rubs off your sweat-slicked skin, and you swear you feel his teeth on your tongue when you press your chest against his.

His hands undo the clasp of your bra, and his tongue plays with the rest of your sanity. You swear to whoever's listening that you need another bottle of beer to wash this feeling of longing away because you're sure you're drunk on him. Kaiser's always been known to kiss his fans, but he kisses his haters even harder.

"SAE ITOSHI, apologize this instant!" Kaiser mimics their manager, arms crossed and voice in an ear-gratingly, squeaky high pitch. Almost condescendingly, he grabs the keyboardist by the hair and forces his gaze down - to the point where he's at a 90-degree bow. "How could you treat a young lady like that?!" He scoffs as Sae swats Kaiser's hand off of his hair, clicking his tongue, irritation crystalline clear.

"R-Really, it's okay...!" You try to get a word in, raising your hands awkwardly to try and ease the situation. Kaiser is dead set on humiliating Sae, though; he's planning to get a good laugh like the carefree narcissist he is. You have to visibly hold back your laughter, heaps of air gathering in your lungs, and it bubbles in your chest. Sae straightens himself out, clearing his throat as he looks down at you from on the stage. Hopping off the platform to get on your level, the only thing separating the both of you is the railing set up for crowd control (and the bodyguards), he lets out a deep sigh.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to get your shirt wet and... I hope I didn't ruin the performance for you," He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly and cranes his neck to look away, not out of shame, though. Rather, Sae isn't sure where he's supposed to look. Your see-through white shirt is drenched, and the lacy black bra you have under is clear as day (though it is partially your fault for wearing black under white - Sae's gone through enough girlfriends to know that women are aware of these things, but he'll admit his faults and apologize anyway.) To be frank, he finds the event a blessing in disguise; you're gorgeous in lace, but he wouldn't say that aloud lest he be considered a pervert.

It was already past midnight, and the concert had ended, fans still stuck around to snag a photo with their favourite member, though. Seeing you at the front of the crowd (and the obvious 'accident' with your shirt), Kaiser caught him staring and decided to be a bigmouth. Swooping in like the playboy he is, he acted all righteous when he heard what happened and well... Sae Itoshi has his head bowed like a little boy apologizing to their mother.

"I'll make it up for you, yeah?" he states firmly, and the air shifts when you agree oh-so-sweetly. Ladies first, he would say, to avoid staring at your chest, but you could feel eyes glued to the mound of your ass from under your miniskirt.

He's making it up to you, alright, with his knee between your thighs. Long, slender fingers slip up your skirt, and the lacy black panties you have under make his star-etched pupils morph into hearts right before your lovestruck eyes. He's patient, he's graceful, and he's deft with every kiss to the point it makes you feel hungry. Diet Pepsi by Addison Rae plays on the radio, and he cages you onto the cushioned seats.

Your legs wrap around his waist like poison ivy, and there's sweet venom every time your collar is stained royal purple. His tongue dances on your skin, and it's even more mind-numbing when his tongue traces yours. With a gasp, or a squeal, or maybe a mix of both, you wonder how long it's been and why he's torturing you like this, and your eagerness tastes like honey to Sae.

Sae swears he's never met a girl so noisy before, but hell if he cares. He wouldn't mind if he met you after every performance, or if he snuck you into the studio to have you right there and then whenever that bastard Kaiser opens his mouth. Bleary-eyed and half-lidded, he thinks you look cute like this and, damn, his eyes weren't lying when you looked good in lace. He almost feels bad. You swear your skin feels like it's on fire, and he's your fuel. You breathe him like oxygen and he's as starved as you, he never knew what air felt like before you.

Sae's fingers, the ones that used to be so rough from playing the guitar with his little brother, the ones that have grown long from years of playing the keyboard, slip under the waistband of your lacy panties. He whispers apologies that he doesn't mean, and he swears to buy you another set as soon as possible. You don't care about his apology, you knew he was a half-hearted bastard the moment he blatantly ogled at you earlier. What's more important is the new set and this perverted idiot better give you another stress-relieving night for the trouble he's put you through! You know Sae Itoshi always keeps his promises.

RIN ITOSHI, the exceptional newbie in the band. Introduced as the 2nd electric guitarist, he hid his prior connections with Sae Itoshi to avoid accusations of being a mere product of nepotism. People had already acknowledged his skills by the time the truth spread. He didn't really catch your eye in terms of personality. He was as reclusive as his older brother but more vocal with his thoughts. If his brother had an "enigmatic" appeal to him, he would be "unapproachable".

"He's cute, isn't he?" Your friend playfully hums by the shell of your ear, and you shrug indifferently in response. Your gaze trawls through his black leather jacket, which looks like it was inherited from someone older, with its sleeves folded to the middle of his forearms. His stringed necklace dangles down to his electric guitar when he slouches, calloused fingers hovering over the strings. "Pretty good for someone new..." Your friend continues, her own eyes the furthest thing from chaste. Yet, instead of chiding her, you'll be the one apologizing sooner or later - you couldn't catch anything she said when Rin happened to glance up in your direction, no less. Coincidence or not, his tongue peeks out of his mouth, the pink muscle running over his lips.

Slim teal eyes narrow at you sharply when you don't look away immediately. You stare back as if you haven't sensed his annoyance and sheer arrogance, and you're utterly shameless about it too. As if mocking the guitarist, you stick your tongue out before openly running it over the canvas of your teeth.

You pass it off as flirting with no goal in mind, especially when his face scrunches up in belying disgust. It was nothing more than passive teasing, the kind of thing you'll dream about when the boys you know act stupid and the tension you'll crave when life gets dull. It's something you'll romanticize for the rest of your life until Rin Itoshi is muddled in a scandal, and you can't see anything attractive in those piercing eyes.

Well, you were half-right.

"Isn't your friend looking for you?" he half-mocks with a tone that makes you want to slap him stupid until the apple of his cheeks is as swollen as your cherry red lips. His mouth is as dirty as it tastes, and he doesn't know how to treat a woman at all. There's nothing remotely sweet about Rin, but the naivety blinding him - convincing him silently that he doesn't want this as bad as you do - is caramel on your tongue.

He's too young and dumb, your voice of reason echoes in the expanse of your skull, and you're sure he hasn't locked the door, but he's already kissed you silly. The black dressing room table feels a little shaky whenever his tongue slips into your mouth, or perhaps your whole world is shaking because of him. Your back crams against the mirror, and the warmth of the LED strips make your brain fuzzy. Eagerness and embarrassment conflict when he holds your waist, rough fingertips shyly slipping under the hem of your shirt and tapping against your skin as if asking for permission. His hesitation is evident when you pull away and the thought of upsetting you strangely eats him whole.

Your chest heaves up and down, off-beat from the temperamental percussion of your heart. "You're asking that now?" you manage out whilst guiding his curious hands further under your shirt, "Sweetheart, don't act like you're worried someone will catch us." Catching your breath, you yearn to lose it again as you lean forward for another round, the white quartz of his stringed necklace cold against your skin once he flips your shirt up.

You can't tell if the lights are flickering or if the flash of a camera has caught you so vulnerable, like putty and moulded into Rin's embrace. But, you don't care, and Rin seems to care even less with the way he whispers sticky sugar promises to buy you another Dior lip gloss and a new bag to boot. It'll be his first scandal if the paparazzi have caught the both of you, but you'll celebrate it with a bottle of champagne in the walls of his apartment, for sure.

Taglist: @dewwberry, @mikmwehehe

[ahappydnp]

so sorry but ive seen two different things about this now and im very lost, why did people think they were breaking up/broke up in 2012??? pls help me understand, wise keeper of the lore. thank u so much

response under the cut for general 2012 discussion/too long

basically 2012/2013 used to get (and sometimes still is) generalized as this dark and awful time period where dnp "hated" each other and us, when in actuality it was two very young very scared closeted queer people who were in the process of several major life changes at once while also dealing with a new exploding fan base

there's a few big things from that "era" that people talk about:

deleting old posts- around this era dnp deleted a ton of old tweets/formsprings/dailybooths that could read as them being in a relationship. they were blowing up online and had more eyes on them than ever before, not to mention had just starting working with the BBC (where being queer would have greatly affected their careers). also keep in mind dan was still in the closet to EVERYONE, and now he's got tons of fans going through his accounts and sending shit to HIS LITTLE BROTHER on tumblr asking if dan's gay. anyway people decided them deleting early tweets meant they had broken up

dan's customerservice tumblr blog- in the middle of them blowing up and people finding all these old posts, dan in an effort to control the narrative, makes a new blog for people to anonymously ask him questions (: which went about as well as you can imagine for an extremely defensive closeted 20 year old with undiagnosed depression. basically he said some unfortunately things out of fear

the video leaked again- won't get too much into that because of the subject matter, but the yeah the video leaked for the second time except this time way more people saw it/shared it and dnp actually had to respond to it this time. which is. just fucking awful and heartbreaking all around.

phil persona- basically this was the birth of the amazingphil persona that'd follow phil to the quiff era. he became more sanitized and less personable than original phil fans were used to (which got romanticized into uwu he's sad because he and dan broke up and now he's shutting down)

"no homo"- pretty self explanatory...people asked if they were gay (every single day constantly on every platform) and they would say no because what else are they going to say. this one particular vyou where dan's actually trying to make people think kills me (x) god he was so young. but they'd also started doing the "omg i don't want to see you naked/ew people want us to kiss" and the infamous "you need a girlfriend" "my future wife" etc etc.

the breakup rumors mostly stemmed from and became popular/ treated as fact by younger fans who kind of saw them as these fictionalized characters (which i mean not to blame them because they were literal children and youtubers were still so new that people did treat them like tv show characters you could be friends with). it also got turned into more sinister theories like the "dan is abusing phil" ones and "phil is actually gay but dan isn't and just used phil for attention and fame in 2009"

there was also factors like them moving to london in 2012 (and people were CONVINCED they'd stop being friends in london??), people thinking them getting popular would mean they'd get girlfriends like other popular youtubers (shoutout danrific shippers), and most importantly just them sharing less about their personal lives with their audience. like of course they're not going to live tweet their day/location anymore when people are showing up at their house and trying to find their families.

basically, dnp were putting boundaries between themselves and their fans, but the fans interpreted it as putting distance between each other. in actuality the 2012/2013 era was full of some really amazing memories and content and things people loved (literally the photobooth challenge is from 2013!! sleeping phil saying i hate you is from 2012!!!)

in conclusion, imagine building a forever home with your ex lmao

[starshinedreamer]

Alrighty y'all, grab a chair and get comfy whilst I yap about my son, my pride and joy, the greatest thing to ever happen to me, my D&D OC: Raymond Foxwood. He is a Wood Elf Druid with the Researcher background and a Neutral-Good alignment (Images at the very end).

I haven't figured out what his voice sounds like yet. I'm thinking he may kind of have an accent? But like it's barely there. I do have an idea for a possible Japanese voice claim: Souta from the movie Suzume.

His best friend? I guess it would be my friend's D&D character. Her name is Topaz and she is a Dragonborne. Not besties, but pretty close.

Ooooooo boy, I got a whole playlist my friend and I have been cooking up for this sad little fella. Here's a couple of them that I think describes him best:

-"The Moss" by Cosmo Sheldrake

-"Rom-Com Gone Wrong" by Matt Maltese

-"When She Loved Me" by Sarah McLachlan

-"Home" by Cavetown

-"Valentine" by Laufey

-"Love Like You" by Rebecca Sugar

He's like, dealing with a heavy breakup until "Valentine" when he meets his current partner :)

4. "I do Adore" by Mindy Gledhill

5. Nope! But I actually thought about it when I was first creating his character just to see how he would act with other dynamics.

6. A scientist. More specifically, an ecologist. He loves nature and learning about all there is to know about life and the world. He also likes finding ways to help others, so maybe even a pharmacologist?

8. Writing, researching, reading, gardening, and making little insect and animal models because he is a NERD™ /lh<3

9. He generally takes good care of his physical health. Although, his flaw is "Most people scream when they see a demon. I stop and take notes on its anatomy," soooo. "For science" he says. "It's for the greater good" he says.

10. Well he's trying his best. But sometimes anxiety just surprises you and all of the sudden you're spiraling and things seem much worse than they are and pfffft whaddya meeeeaaaan I'm sorta self projecting? But he is the kind of person who feels bad about asking for help and then sort of holds it all in.

11. Inspirations were taken Link from The Legend of Zelda series (mainly BOTW) and Howl from Howl's Moving Castle for his design. Everything else was based purely on my own self indulgences for a nerdy elf character (and the songs my friend keeps sending my for him).

12. Same response as question 2 :)

13. No not really, but he is fighting against an organization that keeps threatening and trying to burn down the library he works/lives in with the librarian: Amanita (Ama, Anita, or Nita for short). Amanita is the person who raised and took care of Raymond after his family died in a fire. A fire caused by the same organization who's trying to harm them now. This is his main reason for joining a campaign; to get stronger and protect his loved ones.

14. This one flippin poison dragon we fought. Or maybe that's just me because I really didn't want to let them leave alive. I don't think Raymond necessarily hates anyone.

15. That all honestly depends on how the rest this campaign will play out. My friend has told me that they all did die a couple times, and we almost died to the STINKIN DRAGON but that's not important right now. But L O R E wise, he'd probably still do his researcher stuff until he's really old. Then he'll write books and share his stories :)

16. If they were alive, then I could see him having a great relationship with his parents since they were also big nerds like him. His relationship with Amanita is also great, and he really wants to protect her since she has done so much for him.

17. YESSSSSS! He loves sharing his knowledge with others and would do such a great job teaching kids. Ohhhh this is such a good one, yes he would feel bad if he had to leave them.

18. He/Him :>

19. Biromantic Asexual. His love language in giving is Acts of Service, and Quality Time for both giving and receiving.

20. A longbow and rocks. He has a cantrip spell called "Magic Stone" which lets me make a ranged attack by throwing small pebbles or stones. I like to call this spell the "RAYMOND, STONE 'EM" spell because its funnnnyyyy.

21. hmmmmmmmmmm Actually, I'm not sure! I guess maybe "Nothing You Can Take From Me" from The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes.

22. Will generally go for the non-violent option (more of a lover), but if initiatives are rolling, he'll fight.

23. Extremely. He'll show up with a new tire to fix the flat one, and an extra one for any future situations.

24. Undecided

25. Not singing out loud, but he would definitely hum to himself! :)

26. Irises, forget-me-nots, and bluebells

27. Symbolism wise, a deer. 'Just because' wise, a rabbit, a fox, and a kitty cat :3

28. The Nerds™ (found at the end of this post:) ).

29. Cozy stuff, lo-fi, books, plants, leather notebooks, and an overall sort of cottage core mixed with academia aesthetic. (Mood Board made in Canva :>)

30. Accepts this as their new life(yippee!). They have now been adopted. Will try to find a way to bring up their interests in conversations.

Fuck it, OC brain rot won. Get ready for the Secret Ask List

1) Does your OC have a voice claim, if so who?

2) Who's your OCs best friend? How did they become best friends?

3) What song describes your OC?

4) What song describes your OC and their partner/love interest?

5) Do you ship your OC with a Canon character? If so who?

6) If your OC is in a fantasy setting, what profession would they be in the modern day?

7) Vice-Versa! If your OC is in the modern day, what fantasy class would they be? Would they be a different race?

8) What hobbies does your OC have? What do they do to unwind?

9) How does your OC handle their physical health? Do they take care of themselves?

10) How does your OC handle their mental health? Do they take care of themselves?

11) What was your inspiration for your OC?

12) Does your OC interact with other people's OC? If so, who's their best OC friend?

13) Does your OC have a rival? How did it start?

14) Who's a character your OC cannot stand! It's on sight when they see them!

15) Will your OC ever retire? Do you see them making it?

16) How's their relationship with their parents? Are they alive?

17) If your OC has kids, are they a good parent? Do they ever feel guilty if they have to leave them?

18) What are their pronouns? What would they like to be called?

19) What's their sexuality? What's their love language both giving and receiving?

20) If they fight, what's their weapon of choice?

21) What song best describes their relationship with their enemy?

22) Fight or Flight? Are they a lover or a fighter?

23) Is your OC reliable? Can I call them up at two in the morning if I have a flat tire?

24) Can they play any instruments? If so, what do they play?

25) Are they the kind of person who can't resist a good song? Can I catch your OC singing to themselves while they do the dishes?

26) What flower do you associate your OC with?

27) What's their spirit tamagotchi? Or an animal you associate them with?

28) What clique would they be in? (Draw them in the clothes of said group!)

29) Imagine a mood board for your OC! What's on it? (Make it if you want!)

30) My OC and your OC are friends. This isn't a question. I'm not asking. (How do they respond?)

[turtle-paced]

Have you ever felt like Martin doesn't like Cersei? The way he writes about her made me question? I mean she is both evil and stupid and it seems like we are supposed to laugh at her.

Cersei is pretty evil, and while I don't believe she's stupid, it's hard not to laugh (incredulously or otherwise) at her many, many bad ideas over the course of the series. Especially in AFFC.

But it's also clear to me that GRRM has compassion for this villain he's created - and that he has right from the start.

Let's put this under a cut for domestic violence and sheer length.

Ned touched her cheek gently. "Has he done this before?" "Once or twice." She shied away from his hand. "Never on the face before. Jaime would have killed him, even if it meant his own life." Cersei looked at him defiantly. "My brother is worth a hundred of your friend." Eddard XII, AGoT

GRRM chooses to frame the pivotal confrontation between Ned and Cersei with the reality of the domestic violence Cersei has experienced. Whatever else happens in that scene, whatever else she's done that might or might not be justified, the author makes sure the reader knows, Ned knows, that Cersei has good reason to hate Robert.

When she hesitated, then sat, Tyrion knew she was lost, despite her loud declaration of, "I will not marry again!" "You will marry and you will breed. Every child you birth makes Stannis more a liar." Their father's eyes seemed to pin her to her chair. Tyrion III, ASoS

This is re-emphasised as Tyrion witnesses Tywin's abuse of Cersei. Even Tyrion, who also has good reason to hate Cersei, cannot help but see how their father completely ignores Cersei's desires, reduces her autonomy to rubble, and above all makes her feel small. This is quite deliberately in Tyrion's PoV to make that dissonance stronger. Cersei is awful, but Tyrion can take no satisfaction in Tywin mistreating her.

Similarly,

His sister sat in a puddle of wine, cradling her son's body. Her gown was torn and stained, her face white as chalk. A thin black dog crept up beside her, sniffing at Joffrey's corpse. "The boy is gone, Cersei," Lord Tywin said. He put his gloved hand on his daughter's shoulder as one of his guardsmen shooed away the dog. "Unhand him now. Let him go." She did not hear. It took two Kingsguard to pry loose her fingers, so the body of King Joffrey Baratheon could slide limp and lifeless to the floor. Tyrion VIII, ASoS

Cersei's grief over watching her son murdered in front of her is a key character moment for her. Is Joffrey a good person? No. Is Cersei's immediate response of demanding Tyrion's arrest a good and just idea? No. Is that grief still real? Absolutely.

It was more than Cersei could stand. I cannot let them see me cry, she thought, when she felt the tears welling in her eyes. She walked past Ser Meryn Trant and out into the back passage. Alone beneath a tallow candle, she allowed herself a shuddering sob, then another. A woman may weep, but not a queen. Cersei III, AFFC

That lasts. It's not healthy but it is genuine. The author isn't putting this in here so we laugh at her. The author is putting this here to help us remember throughout the parade of evil and stupid crap Cersei's about to do that Cersei is a human with human emotions.

And when all that crap has backfired on Cersei, the author makes sure we know that the punishment inflicted on her is not for her sins but instead for her biological sex. He shows her break from that treatment.

Words are wind, she thought, words cannot hurt me. I am beautiful, the most beautiful woman in all Westeros, Jaime says so, Jaime would never lie to me. Even Robert, Robert never loved me, but he saw that I was beautiful, he wanted me. She did not feel beautiful, though. She felt old, used, filthy, ugly. Cersei II, ADWD

The walk of shame is just misogyny, pure and simple, nothing to do with what Cersei's actually done wrong. It is deliberately not karma out to get Cersei. It is deliberately not comeuppance. It is a reminder that Cersei has a point all those times when she points out she's been treated differently because of her sex - even if it's not the whole of the reason people don't respect her.

Even if a reader doesn't think Cersei deserves mercy, even if a reader finds her political bumbling funny, there's a lot around her that shows us that the reader wants us to think carefully about what made Cersei both a horrible person and a horrible politician. She is most definitely not there just to be the butt of the author's joke. That's Victarion.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

How to make a fic or writing longer how to add stuff without making it boring

Writing Ideas: Adding Details to your Story

Keep engaging the reader every few pages. Do not spend the first act introducing your characters. Let the reader discover your characters as they are catapulted into the concept. Let the reader learn their motivations and arcs as they are bombarded by the conflict that you are hopefully throwing them into from the get-go. Let there be a mystery to it. Why show your whole hand when you can keep a reader invested and engaged by slowly peeling away the layers of the character as they deal with the conflict and overall concept? Continue to build and build and build, whether it’s with the laughs, the drama, the screams, the mystery, the thrills, the action, etc. Offer as many twists and turns as you can. Lead that reader towards something, only to pull the rug out from underneath them just when they feel that they know where you’re going with it.

The HCM Plotting Method

List the Heart-Clutching Moments you’ve already thought of—you know, those pivotal points in your story that will evoke all the intensity of that “look behind you!” response in your readers.

Think of more.

Construct your story around them. Don’t focus on your loosely formed storyline. Focus on the key points in your story.

What Is an HCM? Some examples:

Love at first sight (Marius Pontmercy meets Cosette)

A huge moral lapse (Judas takes the money)

Murder (Miles Archer’s sets Sam Spade in motion)

Death by other means (Injun Joe starves to death in the cave)

A refusal of grace (Mayella Ewell sticks to her story in spite of taking the courtroom oath)

Nature gone wild (shark dines on first recreational swimmer)

Someone standing up to corruption (Shane picks up his gun again)

A change of heart, for good or ill (Michael Corleone offers to kill Sollozzo and Captain McCluskey)

An act of depraved violence (Bill Sykes cudgels Nancy)

Betrayal (Sandy puts a stop to her mentor Jean Brodie)

Forgiveness (Melanie insists Scarlett join her in the receiving line)

A revelation (Pip’s secret benefactor is none other than … !)

HCMs can be active, whole scenes. Some examples:

A lifesaving attempt

A chase

A battle

A seduction

A caper

Make a list of Heart-Clutching Moments and put them on index cards in rough order. Then you can build an outline based on any form you desire, be it classical drama, farce, or anything in between. If you get stuck, do any of the following:

Start writing one of your HCM scenes. Immediately the scene itself should prompt ideas, perhaps for new courses of action or even new characters.

Write deeper into an HCM scene you’ve written already. You’ll likely find yourself coming up with bridges between scenes—and thinking of more elements to enhance your story.

Look for places to add conflict, suffering, or frustration.

Example: Shakespeare wanted to take Macbeth from conquering hero to murderous traitor whose decapitation at the hands of one of his countrymen is the only possible, imaginable end.

How does he do it? Reread the play and you’ll realize that one HCM leads to the next, fast and furious: The witches’ stunning prophecies, Macbeth’s realization that he could be king, his wife’s corrupt ambition, one murder, two more murders, and more upon that, and prophesy again, and insanity, and suicide … all in the space of 98 pages!

Introduce a ticking clock. A ticking clock is an important element that ramps up pressure on your characters and piques your readers’ curiosity as to how your protagonist can possibly succeed. Set up big promises and obstacles early in a narrative and layer in a time crunch to make a character’s predicament seem dire.

Weave subplots into your narrative. Use subplots effectively to add variety and texture to your narrative and explore characters and backstory. When used well, subplots can artfully pose and answer key questions and flesh out characters.

Add dramatic irony. Dramatic irony is one of the many literary devices that can keep your reader engaged and increase the suspense. If a reader is aware of impending plot points that your characters are not, you can foreshadow plot twists and raise questions in your reader’s mind as to how your characters will deal with the trouble that lies ahead.

Invest in the details. Good writing generally contains sensory details and specific observations that remind readers of real life. A longer story can be much more powerful and less boring with detailed descriptions of the environment in which it takes place.

Open loops. This expands a bit on the idea of hooks and page-turning chapter endings, but the concept here is much broader. Basically the idea is to open boxes … and then take your sweet time in getting around to closing them. If you’re interested in a situation and the story cuts that situation off without resolving it, you’ll do that OH COME ON thing and then keep reading. You can’t rest until you close the loop. So if the story is well-told, you’ll just keep looking for that dropped loop … even if it takes chapters to pay off. It takes many chapters to find out what did happen, and your readers just keep blasting through them, cursing us all the while.

Relentless pacing. Take your time and meander when writing your book. What happens, happens, and try not to rush it. Characters talk and the reader learns plot points. On the contrary, let your readers keep asking, “What happens next?” The answer to that question needs to be exciting. Threatening. Maybe violent. Don't let your characters have much time to catch their breath, because the goal is to keep your readers breathless.

Learning from the Classics. Some Examples:

Armadale by Wilkie Collins, 1864 - Armadale was regarded by author T.S. Eliot as "the best of [his] romances" and includes Lydia Gwilt, a character considered as one of the most astonishing wicked female villains in literature. Drawing on scandalous newspaper headlines, Collins creates a story of confused identities, inherited curses, romantic rivalries, espionage, and murder – making for an action-packed 752 pages.

Les Misérables by Victor Hugo, translated by Norman Denny, 1862 - Adapted into one of the most successful musicals of all time, Les Misérables’ running time in London’s West End is an impressive 2 hours 50 minutes. But for a more immersive experience, try the original novel – a full 1,232 pages of injustice, heroism, and love in 19th-century France.

The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas, 1846 - (1,240 pages) On the day of his wedding, Edmond Dantes, master mariner, is arrested in Marseille on trumped-up charges and spirited away to the cellars of the Chateau d'If, an impregnable sea fortress in which he is imprisoned indefinitely. Escaping from the chateau by a series of daring manoeuvres, he unearths a great treasure on the island of Monte Cristo, buried there by a former fellow prisoner who bequeaths to him the secret of its whereabouts. Thus armed with unimaginable wealth and embittered by his long imprisonment, he resolves to devote his life to tracking down and punishing those responsible.

Ulysses by James Joyce, 1922 - It is one thing to write a novel of 1,040 pages, but quite another to dedicate the entire page count to one single day. Ulysses follows characters Stephen Dedalus, Leopold Bloom and his wife Molly across a day in their lives in 1904 Dublin. Dedalus and Bloom, who are are unaware of each other, are trying to find a missing loved one: the former, his long-lost father, and Bloom, despite being childless, for a son.

War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy, 1869 - (1,225 pages) At a glittering society party in St Petersburg in 1805, conversations are dominated by the prospect of war. Terror swiftly engulfs the country as Napoleon's army marches on Russia, and the lives of three young people are changed forever. The stories of quixotic Pierre, cynical Andrey and impetuous Natasha interweave with a huge cast, from aristocrats and peasants to soldiers and Napoleon himself. In War and Peace, Tolstoy entwines grand themes - conflict and love, birth and death, free will and faith - with unforgettable scenes of nineteenth-century Russia, to create a magnificent epic of human life in all its imperfection and grandeur.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 ⚜ More: Notes ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs ⚜ On Pacing

Here are some tips and ideas I found from different sources. Choose which ones you would like to incorporate in your story. Hope this helps with your writing!

[deliciousangelfestival]

Nothing Has Changed - 16

Summary: Returning home for peace, you're faced with your tormentor, Bucky Barnes, who is now involved in your family's business.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Warning: Angst, Tragedy.

Nothing Has Changed - Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

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The moment you heard the words, it felt like a bolt of lightning striking your chest.

“What happened?” Your voice was sharp with urgency.

The gallery owner sighed. “He was in a car accident. Wrong time, wrong place. He was crossing the street when a car—stolen by a thief trying to escape the police—came speeding through.”

Your stomach twisted. “Is he okay?”

“To an outsider, he looks fine. But for an artist?” He shook his head grimly. “It’s a career suicide.”

Dread pooled in your gut. “His hands?”

He gave a small nod, confirming your worst fear. “We love his work—it’s been bringing in so many new visitors.” His expression darkened. “But sadly, we had to terminate his contract.”

Your brows furrowed. “There was another contract?” This was the first time you’d heard of it. You only knew that Steve had been accepted as a resident artist for the gallery.

“Yeah. The response to his work was incredible, and we were grateful you introduced him to us. That’s why we signed a long-term contract with him. The gallery was going to act as his agency—promoting his work worldwide. In return, he was supposed to produce new pieces regularly.”

Your heart clenched. “Can’t you give him another chance?”

“We did.” He exhaled heavily. “But then the doctor told us it would take at least six months for him to recover. Meanwhile, the contract had already started, and he was expected to create at least three new pieces each month.”

Your mind raced. Four months. That was too long in their eyes—but to Steve, it was everything.

“I have to go. Which hospital is he in?”

Once you had the address, you wasted no time.

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and sterilized air, a suffocating mix. As you stepped into the room, your breath caught in your throat.

Steve lay on the hospital bed, looking pale and exhausted. His once-strong hands, the hands that had brought so much beauty into the world, now rested limply on the blanket. His eyes flickered open, widening slightly when he saw you standing there.

A weak, surprised chuckle escaped him. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I’m so sorry.”

His brows knitted together. “Why are you apologizing? None of this is your fault.” He let out a short laugh, then winced, the pain cutting it short.

Your chest ached at the sight of him like this. This wasn’t just an injury—it was a slow death for someone like him. Not being able to paint was killing him.

Steeling yourself, you stepped closer. “Don’t worry. I know a doctor who can help you.”

His expression darkened. “Don’t bother.” He turned his gaze to the ceiling, his voice hollow. “I believe this is my karma. Like the others. It’s my turn now.”

His words sent a chill down your spine.

His turn for what?

“Karma? No. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Steve let out a hollow chuckle, shaking his head. “No, Y/N. This is my karma. This is why I was always afraid to leave town. I was afraid something would happen to me… just like it happened to the others.”

A chill ran down your spine. “The others? What do you mean?”

Steve fell silent, his jaw tightening. His fingers twitched against the hospital sheets as if he were peeling back an old wound, one he had buried deep. Finally, he exhaled sharply.

“We were terrible to you back then.”

Your chest tightened at the words. Yes. They were. But what did that have to do with this?

“Yes, you guys were,” you admitted, your voice steady. “But what does that have to do with any of this?”

His eyes darkened. “Punishment. That’s what I’d call it. We got punished for what we did to you.”

Your stomach churned. “We? Punished?”

He nodded. “We—Natasha, Thor, and now me. It was only a matter of time before my turn came.”

The weight of his words pressed down on you.

“Natasha… After graduation, she got a modeling contract. Big agencies, photoshoots, runway shows—she even walked at NYFW. She was on the rise. A new star from our town.” He paused, his expression tightening. “Until her name got dragged into a scandal. A photographer she worked with was exposed for predatory behavior. She got labeled a ‘yacht girl.’”

Your brows furrowed.

“Nobody wanted to work with a model tied to a criminal. And with the whole ‘Me Too’ movement gaining momentum, she was blacklisted overnight.”

You swallowed hard, processing his words.

“And Thor?” you asked.

Steve scoffed. “That guy thought he had it all. He got into NASCAR, won a few races. But then? He crashed. Messed up his legs. Ended his career before it even really started.”

Your chest tightened again, but not out of sympathy. You knew what he was saying—what he believed. And you didn’t believe a word of it.

“And now it’s my turn,” Steve muttered, trying to push himself up in bed. His hands trembled from the effort. “Just like Natasha and Thor… in the end, I ended up back here.”

“Steve,” you murmured, your heart twisting at the look on his face.

He let out a bitter laugh. “Seems like Bucky got the best out of all of us. He’s rich. He helped your dad. Life worked out for him.”

You clenched your fists.

“Steve, that’s ridiculous,” you said firmly. “If this is karma, then does that mean I was ‘punished’ when the FBI raided me? No. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

He didn’t answer.

“And as for Natasha and Thor?” You exhaled sharply. “They got what they deserved. But you? No, Steve. You don’t deserve this.”

Your chest ached as you looked at him—really looked at him. He had finally made it out, just like you. And deep down, you had been rooting for him all along.

You inhaled deeply, steadying yourself. “Gather your things. We’re moving you to a better hospital. I know a doctor who can actually help.”

Steve blinked up at you in surprise. “Y/N, you’ve already helped me so much—”

“Shut up.” You cut him off, crossing your arms. “Steve, listen to me. I have a bad feeling about this. And I’m going to find out the truth.”

He stared at you for a long moment before sighing. “Oookayy…”

🌸🌸🌸🌸

You wasted no time bringing Steve to see Tim—the famous orthopedic doctor, well-known among A-list celebrities.

As soon as you stepped into his office, Tim’s lips curled into an easy smile. “Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite fund manager.” His tone was warm, teasing. Then his gaze shifted to Steve. “And you must be the patient.”

Steve shifted awkwardly, clearly overwhelmed. He had never expected you to go this far to find him a top doctor.

You wasted no time. “Tim, here’s the case.” You handed him the medical records. “The doctors at the previous hospital took forever to give Steve a proper diagnosis. And this is all they gave us.”

Tim hummed as he flipped through the files, scanning the information with a sharp, discerning gaze. Then, he turned to Steve, his expression unreadable. Gently, he reached out and pressed against Steve’s injured hand.

Steve winced but didn’t pull away.

“That’s strange,” Tim muttered. “According to this report, you won’t be able to use your hand for at least six months. But looking at it closely…” He rotated Steve’s wrist slightly, testing the movement. “You just need about a month.”

“HUH?!” Steve’s head snapped up, eyes wide in disbelief.

Tim barely reacted to Steve’s shock. Instead, he frowned slightly, tapping the file with his fingers. “The doctor who examined you… Hmm.” His curiosity was piqued.

A bad feeling stirred in your gut. “Do you know who he is?” you asked.

Tim let out a slow exhale, shaking his head. “This guy? He nearly had his medical license revoked. He’s notorious for fabricating patient records.”

A chilling silence filled the room. It was as if someone had dumped ice-cold water over you and Steve.

Steve let out a deep breath, tension leaving his shoulders. “So I’m not as bad off as I thought.” Relief washed over him.

You, however, felt something else entirely. A slow, burning anger settled in your chest. This was just like your father’s case. Lies. Manipulation. Someone using their position to control people’s lives.

You swallowed back the fury, forcing yourself to focus. “I’m glad I brought him here.” Your voice was firm as you looked at Tim. “Please, do whatever you can to heal my friend.”

Tim gave a reassuring nod. “Of course.”

Steve turned to you, his eyes filled with something unspoken—gratitude, maybe even something deeper. “Thank you,” he said, his voice quieter than before. “You keep helping me again and again.”

You managed a small smile. “Get better, Steve.” Then, your expression hardened. “And there’s one thing I need you to do.”

“Just tell me.”

Your next words came without hesitation. “Don’t ever go back home. Ever.”

Steve froze.

“I mean it,” you pressed. “I have a bad feeling about this. And I won’t let my father go back either.”

Before Steve could respond, your phone vibrated in your pocket. You glanced at the screen—Allan.

You stepped aside, answering quickly. “Yes, Allan?”

There was a pause before his voice came through. “I have the results.”

Your breath hitched. You had been waiting for this. The test results for your father.

“How is it?” you asked, bracing yourself.

Allan hesitated. “He doesn’t have cancer.”

For a moment, your mind went blank. He doesn’t have cancer. The weight pressing against your chest lifted slightly—only for it to come crashing down again with Allan’s next words.

“But he’s dying.”

The room felt like it was closing in on you. “…What?”

“The medication he was given—it destroyed his kidneys. He needs surgery as soon as possible.”

Your grip on the phone tightened. Your knuckles turned white.

Tony. That damn liar.

Your father was never sick. He was never dying from cancer. He had been fooled—poisoned, even. And you were too late to stop it.

Your voice came out low and cold. “Do whatever you have to do, Doc. I trust you.”

“I will.”

The call ended.

You stood there, gripping the phone so tightly your hands shook. Anger simmered beneath your skin, boiling over into something uncontrollable. You were furious—furious at yourself for not figuring it out sooner. Furious at that bastard doctor who had fed your father poison disguised as medicine. Furious that your father had suffered for nothing.

That small town has brought nothing but misery to you and your dad.

Your nails dug into your palm.

Your phone buzzed in your hand, the screen flashing with an incoming call. Ransom.

You answered quickly. "Hey…" His voice came through the line, slightly muffled by background noise. “Guess where I’m going?”

Something about his tone put you on edge. “Where are you?” you asked, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling creeping up your spine.

“To your hometown.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“Why?” Your voice came out sharper than you intended, laced with panic.

“There’s a proposed hospital project there. They want to build a road alongside it, and the mayor called us. He’s interested in taking out a loan from us.” Ransom’s voice was casual, like this was just another business deal.

But to you, it was anything but.

“Ransom!”

“Yeah?” He sounded amused. “Why are you screaming?”

Your grip on the phone tightened. “Don’t go there.”

Ransom chuckled, oblivious to the sheer dread seeping into your voice. “Too late for that. The mayor already sent his people to pick me up. Even sent a helicopter.”

Your stomach twisted. “Who did he send?”

There was a pause. Then, Ransom’s voice dropped slightly, as if he was taking a closer look. “His name is James Barnes.”

Your heart stopped.

Ransom glanced over at the man already seated inside the helicopter, his presence commanding even from a distance. Bucky Barnes.

The moment the call ended, fear crashed over you like a tidal wave.

Real, bone-deep fear.

You didn’t just not want Ransom to go.

You needed him not to go.

But it was too late.

And that terrified you.

@winterslove1917

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[toasterfart]

Controversial opinion but idc. Bioware and the head writers do also need to shoulder some of the blame as well, you can't just blame ea for everything bad that ever happened to them. Reading the responses from the head devs to that reddit AMA really spelled it out for me. They didn't really seem to care anymore about the lore and got actively pissed when people asked those questions, I'm looking at you John Epler. They couldn't trust their players to make a choice regarding to sacrifice a companion based on the companions alone so needed to introduce an animal companion to convince you save the black character. The game lacks depth, and I know production suffered from pressure from EA but the team have pulled through making a nuanced game under a time crunch before ie DA2.

I am devastated for those who lost their jobs, and do think EA actively disadvantaged DAtV by allowing the culture war regarding Taash and poor marketing. But Bioware isn't innocent.

[formerlympp]

happy belated birthday

“Happy belated birthday, Lily!”

“We wish we could have celebrated last week—”

“No more apologies!” Lily said firmly. “You are ruining the fun!”

“Sorry.”

Truthfully, Lily had been a little sad that most of her friends were unavailable to hang out on her actual birthday the previous weekend, but she certainly wasn’t angry about it. They were all in their thirties after all, and being an adult put a damper in most things, but especially, she discovered, birthdays.

They’d more than made up for it tonight, however, having spent the evening at a fabulous Italian restaurant before retreating back to Lily’s flat for cake, snacks, and buckets of alcohol. Lily already knew she’d be paying for the two glasses of wine at dinner and decided if her Sunday would be spent nursing a hangover, she may as well ply herself with margaritas and make it worthwhile.

She was sipping her third in between bites of her birthday cake—an unpleasant mixture with more sober taste buds, surely—when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” Mary cried out, jumping unsteadily to her feet before Lily even sat down her plate.

“Don’t tell me you ordered more food, Mary! We’ve already eaten our body weight in tortilla chips and salsa, not to mention—”

But Mary was out of sight without replying and Lily’s interest left with her brunette friend. It didn’t take long for Mary to return, though when she reappeared, she had a tall man—a man dressed as a firefighter—following behind her.

“Look what I happened to find!” Mary announced loudly, gaining the attention of all the girls in the group. “Is it getting hot in here—?”

The sudden uproar of her friends nearly startled Lily into dropping her drink. A couple of her friends ran quickly to the kitchen, empty glasses clutched in their hands, nearly knocking over another couple of women who were digging through their bags, searching for something…

And then Lily realized what she would have spotted immediately in sobriety.

“Mary… Mary, you didn’t!”

Mary, looking quite pleased with herself, was about to reply, when a second man came into view behind the first and stole her attention.

“Two?!” came a gleefully tipsy whoop from somewhere behind Lily.

“What’s this?” the second man said. “What’s the emergency, James?”

“Oh, they’re in character,” Mary announced to the room.

“We’re in what—?”

The first man, James evidently, swore loudly before turning to the man behind him and urgently saying something in a low voice. Suddenly the second man let out a bark of laughter before backing out of the room. His laughter continued even after he’d ducked out of site.

“Look, there’s been a mistake,” the man called James began, casting an uneasy look at Mary and then behind his shoulder.

“It’s quite all right,” Mary said in her most assuring voice. “I only ordered one, but we’ll pay both of you, not to worry. This is Lily—” Mary gestured, “—our lady of honor, tonight—"

His face turned a violent shade of pink, and Lily realized what he was about to say a second before he said it: “No—no. That’s—it’s not that. We’re not strippers. We really are firefighters and came here in response to a call to the station.”

Silence fell over the room at this before the group of girls broke into a furious round of giggles.

“Mary! You called the actual bloody firehouse?”

“This is the last time we put you in charge of anything!”

“Quick, someone snap a picture—”

Mary looked a mixture of embarrassed and deeply amused. “Oh, sod off, all of you!” She rounded on James, who appeared to be trying—and failing—to make himself blend in with the floral wallpaper behind him. “You could make it clearer on the internet, when people search, you know!”

James cleared his throat. “Erm. I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Mary, leave the poor man alone,” Lily said, now rising to her feet, surprisingly steadily, and heading toward the pair. “He’s only trying to do his job. Go have a glass of water, love.” She turned to James and then nodded toward the hallway. “Let's get you out of here.”

He looked relieved at her suggestion and did not linger a moment longer than he had to, not even to say his last piece to Mary, which Lily found commendable. Lily led the firefighter to the front door, but before opening it, turned to face him.

“I’m terribly sorry about the mix-up. I hope we didn’t put you out too much.”

James smiled for first time, seemingly more at ease now that he was away from the rowdiness he’d unexpectedly walked into. “It’s all right. This will make for a good story. Although…” James leaned back to look out the window of her front door before his attention returned to her. “Although I reckon my mate is going to enjoy taking the mick for a while.”

“Nonsense,” Lily said. “Take the ego boost. A bunch of women thought you made a living taking your clothing off.”

He laughed in reply, and Lily enjoyed the sound of it. She wasn’t wrong, he was very nice to look at. Especially a moment later when she was met with a lopsided smile.

“Well, I reckon it’s always good to have a back-up plan if I need a career change.”

“Just keep the outfit, if you can.”

“Yeah?”

She cleared her throat, feeling her cheeks pinken under his focused gaze. “Yeah. You… haven’t you ever heard the saying, women love a man in uniform?”

James laughed again and nodded. “Yeah, I suppose I have. Well look, I’d better go. And you need to get back to… what is it, a hen do?”

“Oh, no, just celebrating my birthday.”

“Really? Well, happy birthday then.”

“Thank you. It’s been an interesting night, to say the least.”

“Well if it gets more interesting in a bad way,” James began, now rummaging around in his coat pocket, “which I hope it doesn’t, mind… you can reach me here.” He proffered a small business card out to her, and she took it without hesitating.

“James Potter… what kind of firefighter carries calling cards on him?”

The lopsided smile returned. “Depending on if I hear from you… the lucky kind, I reckon.”

Lily laughed, tucking the card safely in her hands as James reached for the door. She was going to need to store this card somewhere for her more trustworthy sober self to find in the morning.

“It was nice meeting you… Lily, I believe it was?”

She nodded. “It was nice meeting you, too.”

As she watched the small firetruck drive away, Lily couldn’t help but wonder if she might have just received the best belated birthday gift in her life.