#a sorrowful critique

[monstermince]

no one asked for it, but my initial baffled reaction to kpop the musical closing after two weeks:

I've read the articles about the directing team's comments on how disappointed they are that the musical hasn't made the money needed to keep running, and I feel for them -- I wanted this all API cast and director/lyricist/etc show to succeed SO MUCH. However, there were some very weird decisions made about the optics of this show, which I want to ramble about as someone who loves musicals, is ethnically Chinese, and had a whole kpop phase:

Titles matter and they named the musical KPOP. lmfao why would you do this. No one is going to take your musical seriously with that name. America already knows about kpop (I see u, McDonald's x BTS). I literally take psychic damage every time I see its name. Why did they think it was a good idea 😭 kpop as a term has TOO many bad/shallow connotations, you cannot.

Marketing was Bad. The plot was not described in an interesting and clear way; the press I saw presented it as something about different kpop groups coming together to perform a show. But they haven't even released the soundtrack (it's not coming out until next year) so no one has any idea what the songs are like and what the story even is, unless you went to the previews which were cancelled early because of covid.

Not knowing the songs means there's no way to know if this musical about kpop groups has any substance or commentary about a fucked up industry, which i feel like is what half of the potential audience would want (me included. I saw when SNSD did a broadcast where the group went to donate blood, and the leader of SNSD straight up was told she couldn't because she's too underweight and anemic. I watched Kpop company giants send their artists into China to get that M money, without teaching them Chinese very well, making them go on talk shows and making their Chinese artists pick up the extra task of leading their teammates through this all. Is it any wonder so many chinese artists left these companies.) You have to be so willfully oblivious to think you can make a musical about kpop artists and not address the hell these artists perform under). However, there's also a chance that this musical was made to market/sell kpop to a larger american audience that wouldn't seek out kpop on their own, in which case, probably there is no substance to the plot, just bops (not to knock the bops). The issue is WE JUST DON'T KNOW WHAT THE BOOK ENTAILS.

Asian actors just don't get taken seriously in the entertainment industry here. There was NO buzz about an all API cast, not like hamilton got for an all POC cast (and there was only one asian actress cast). Andrea Macasaet, who has been ABSOLUTELY MIND BLOWING as Six's Broadway Anne Boleyn straight up said that she was about to quit the industry and get trained to work up the corporate ladder for Lululemon before auditioning for Six one last time, because the industry is so inaccessible.

It just feels like these are such obvious things that overshadow the musical, and you HAVE to get a marketing/publicity team who can address this. You can make fake insta accounts for your fictional kpop groups (which they did 🤦‍♀️) AFTER you address this.

[baobhanlore-art]

Just watched Exes and Oohs and I wish we'd get a more Millie centric episode. Despite Millie dating Chaz we hardly got any backstory between them and the only thing it went towards was Blitz's jokes. Millie would have still been mad at Chaz after hearing about what he did to Moxxie.

And yes, we get badass fight scenes from her but we don't get much more. She's hardly changed throughout the show so far and only ever loves Moxxie and protects Moxxie and exist for Moxxie. She doesn't even sing her big dramatic song, it's background music.

Maybe she had an intense rivalry with Sallie May and that's largely where her aggression comes from, and Moxxie is the first person to love her how she is and not just for her achievements or use.

Maybe she uses violence as a crutch for her frustration at how she's not taken seriously as a short rural imp woman and needs to learn to accept herself and not constantly assert dominance over people around her.

Maybe she's used to people in Wrath just straight up dying and she feels like she needs to protect everyone so she doesn't lose them.

These are just some ideas I'm throwing at the wall! I get that it's an indie production which takes time but it'd be nice to see some Millie conflict to better build the group dynamic.

Every other main character has had more development than her, even when they have less screen time. She feels like such an afterthought sometimes.

((I feel like whenever I get into a piece of media, the character I like the concept of most ends up being the least interesting. Millie, Yor Briar (SXF), Anne (JJBA), Taryn Duarte (FOA), etc. So this may be a bit more aggressive than I actually feel about her but my frustration has just built up over time.))

[fantodsdhrit]

midsommar and the necessity of grief: sorrow (pain, grief, agony, suffering) is shunned, looked down upon, as something to be cured, ameliorated, and for that there are prescriptions, drugs, methods, patterns, escapes and innumerable joys; yet the person is still (not overtly though but sometimes overtly still) ostracized, ignored, made faceless.

some are more deplorable: they exploit this state as an aesthetic, as surface sublimeness; a commodity for conspicuousness, for floweriness, for consumption.

often women gather and mourn their "someone" like a bridge, to "get over" this natural, chaotic, poignant state while men are supposed to be "uncry-able tree bark" or merely serve the "phallic function;" grief is treated like a residue repeatedly, something to be jettisoned; when my cousin cried during a movie, his mother reproached him for it saying, "i cried enough for the both of us at your father's funeral, so that you didn't have to cry like that later."

can't he, or i, or anyone (and whenever), just be sad and mourn and suffer and be glum at times? for whatever reasons: existence, loss, mortality and the paraphernalia of it all, without moaning or sulking? not like a stone but more stoic and contemplative, not self-annihilative?

everyone is everything that they're not; the decimation of grief validates a plethora of grief; why all this "running and arriving?" "arriving" where exactly? isn't the "observer the observed?"

yes the community can synchronise your each and every movement, your breath, your screams, your crying, even your tears; but isn't that all mimetic, rote, mechanical, machine-like? the "insides," your "insides" are indescribable and that's grief: indescribable, undesirable but essential and it's "yours," yours alone.

[infinemmonstrum]

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[two-white-butterflies]

★ — lights will guide you home | carlos sainz and multi

Description: Trying to find love after your ex-fiancee told you that his mistress makes him happier. How hard could it be?

part two of it was all yellow

Pairing: actress!singer!reader/multi (undecided), actress!singer!reader/carlos sainz (past).

Trope: Secret Baby Trope

Disclaimer: Everything written in this fanfic holds no truth about anyone's personality or actions. It is made purely for entertainment.

A/N: this part will mainly focus on the main character and her relationship with pablo, while setting things up with her future love interest + angst with carlos?🤔

carlossainz55: Everyday Magic! I love you baby.

liked by because.official and 712,923 others

>comments

ynnationlovebears: GIRL...

because.official: aww he looks so cute hubs 🥺 - carlossainz55: ❤️

iggyagaelabeef2: OH MY GOD SHE'S GOING TO KILL U

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The situation was awkward. Pablo was wise beyond his years, he understood the situation - but his difficulty understanding it was obvious. He wasn't comfortable around Carlos, who until yesterday didn't even exist in his little world.

"Give him time." you comforted the older man.

It felt strange, comforting a man who was the reason of your sorrow. He was the reason that you didn't feel confident in your own skin, in your own face, because he thought that someone was better.

You spent these past years trying to look for the faults that he found inside of you, because if he could cheat on you, the next one could.

"Until yesterday, he didn't even know that you existed." you scoffed, attempting to avoid his guilty stare. "I don't know what I'm looking for - or what he likes. Children are a tough crowd." he chuckled nervously, mentally cursing Kirkman for leaving the both of you.

There was a silence, only interrupted by the slight sound of rain on the background. It was obvious that you had nothing in common. You had no desire with being friends with him. "I posted him on instagram, is that fine?" he broke through the thick atmosphere.

You licked your chapped lips.

"Yeah."

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notdanielricciardopriv: this is so scary 😭

liked by 7 others

>comments

notmaxv33: Slendrina - notynln: a lotta nerve from someone singing gagadegadao with my son ??

landofanbasebutreallandonorris: IM SO SCARED RIGHT NOW PLEASE DON'T KIDNAP ME - notynln: 😭

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ynworldupdates: I literally don't understand why Carlos Sainz Jr. decided to cheat on the most beautiful woman in the whole universe 😭😭 like SHE LITERALLY PLAYS TARGARYENS FOR A LIVING MAN!!

liked by 829 others

>comments

birdsofafeather83: literally mother mary incarnate

holypoodlesticks: i want this woman to play a divine goddess

alex_lnc: that's why i love women, men will always CHEAT

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>comments

floppiana83: "that makes her a good friend" MAX YOU ARE NOT SLICK HAHAHAHAHAHA

arianabanana: And they get married and have kids

inchident01: go to 2:01 I'm sensing a crush

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"Charles told me that you were ignoring Carlos' messages." Daniel sits beside me, his face filled with concern.

"I didn't know how to react, okay." you groaned.

A few days ago Carlos posted a picture of Pablo. Your son's face was in full view, everyone began to critique his features - even the looksmaxxing community had a lot to say. It was a boy! A child!

"If you didn't want him posting P - then you should've told him in the first place." he responded, trying to play devil's advocate. It only added more to your fury. "The deed was done, someone probably already saved it - I couldn't just ask Carlos to delete the picture."

"- plus, you know how I get with confrontation." you breathed.

He was about to respond, but he sees your crestfallen face. The same curve of your lips that you miserably wore when you lost a game of UNO, or lost an acting role that you've been pining for.

"I hate him for what he did, but I miss him like a little kid. He makes me feel so stupid and useless."

" - when I'm around him, I can't help but think about my mistakes. I could've been better - maybe then, Pablo would have both of his parents." you sobbed, burying your face in his chest.

Daniel takes a deep breath.

"It shouldn't come from me ... but it's tough being a mother. Carlos can afford to make mistakes, no one will hate him for it - but it's unfair once you're the one who does." he comforted.

Between all your friends, Daniel was the only one who knew how to comfort another person. He was a blessing. A warm teddy bear.

"I-I just wanted to give Pablo the change of having privacy. His father and I never had that as kids. I know how tough it is being in the spotlight, I thought he'd understand." you sighed.

This was another lesson.

"I'll tell him next time." you nodded to yourself. A human being can make mistakes, but as a mother, it's best to not have any.

I've got to learn how to put my foot down.

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yn.ln: a lot of you don't know this but me and @maxverstappen go way back.. i've seen the interview, thank you for calling me a good friend 🤣💚 ps. we first met each other when we were 5 and i'm pretty sure he forgot about me until we met again at 17 🤣

liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen and 83,293 others

>comments

helaenaslawyer: OH MY GOD ?? SHE LOOKED LIKE RHAENYRA WHEN SHE WAS A KID...THE HOTD CASTING DEPARTMENT NEVER MISSED

emmadarcy: OMG 🔥

maxieworldf1: never beating the sibling allegations

maxverstappen: Have you always been that short? - yn.ln: uhuh mr. tall king? lols

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Carlos was taking snaps of Pablo on his new Kodak camera. The little boy seemed to enjoy being the subject of his father's photos. Daniel nudges your elbows, encouraging you to speak up. "Carlos, will you be posting that on social media?" you inquired.

He looked up with a smile - the smile that used to have you weak on your knees, now instead leaving you with neutral feelings. "If it's okay with you?" his eyebrows merged into each other.

"Uh I actually would prefer it if Pablo stays off the media for a few years, just until he's old enough to make his own decisions." the words slipped out of your mouth like a dam.

His eyebrows raised upwards, surprised.

"Oh I'm sorry that makes sense." his voice sounded defeated, but he quickly returns to playing with his son. You lean back on the sun-bed, flashing Daniel a winning smile. "That was surprisingly easy." you leaned back, watching as he takes a sip of his piña colada.

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yn.ln: this is so 2014 core 🕷 📸 shot by p

liked by maxverstappen and 821,239 others

>comments

helaenaworld: this awakened something within me

holdmybeer: pedro alonso, stephanie beatriz, cm punk, carlos sainz I GET YOU...

bandanaqueef: O M G O M G O M G

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formulaonewagsupdate: because and y/n l/n in one boat?

liked by 82,239 others

>comments

becausefanbase: i get it why carlos cheated HAHAHA

hotpotcentauri: Why does Y/N always look so awk? - ynlncloset: y/n l/n does not belong to you because, mainstream media and parties do... - callmeadefender: She's literally the most charming of all of the ladies in that boat 💀

babyohh: to be a fly on the wall during that yacht ride.

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next part>>

thanks for the support guys. pt. 3 will focus on the yacht ride.

IDEAS FOR THE FUTURE ENDGAME ARE STILL OPEN, JUST BECAUSE THIS CHAPTER IS MAX AND DAN CENTRIC DOESN'T 100% MEAN THAT THOSE DRIVERS ARE ENDGAME.

[txttletale]

hey not trying to be a shithead but genuinely curious; and not saying it isnt, but what makes honest hearts like super racist? because, okay its been a while but i dont remember it being *that* bad?

am i missing something? (probably)

well, essentially, the whole dlc hinges its plot on its idea of 'tribal' society vs. 'civilized' society. this is like... a distinction with origins in 19th century scientific racism used to argue that indigenous peoples were 'primitive' and 'backwards', a lesser form of life compared to the more developed 'civilized' people. and this is a distinction that is everywhere in all the fallout games, including new vegas (i think it's super fucking racist that the white gloves practice of cannibalism is constantly narratively linked to their 'tribal origins' and described in the terms of a regression or degeneration)--but honest hearts is about it and so it's really inescapable.

joshua sawyer can say whatever he likes about multi-ethnic diverse groups or whatever but the tribes in honest hearts are very clearly inspired by racist stereotypes about native americans--they are naive, gullible morons (follows-chalk can't understand the concept of a casino) at worst and noble savages with (textually) biblical innocence at best. their names, their art, their societies--all just a white guy's idea of "vaguely native american" without any research or care.

and imo worst of all (and this is something im aware the devs have properly acknowledged) they have absolutely no agency--your role in the dlc is to be a "civilized" outsider who tells them which of two white "civilized" mormons to listen to. none of the 'tribals' are able to make their own decisions or lead themselves--they need a mormon missionary to tell them what to do! there is no way to resolve the dlc without picking which white mormon missionary they should listen to other than just murdering everyone indiscriminately.

and, like--i am aware that honest hearts thinks it is gesturing towards a critique of these ideas. you can criticize the paternalism daniel shows towards the sorrows, and the dlc clearly intended it to be criticized--but that criticism is weak and hollow when the only way to follow up on it is to put a different white mormon in charge. it is the most archetypal white saviour narrative possible--and yes, i also know daniel was 'supposed to be asian', but that doesn't change anything because he is in fact, as the "civilized" missionary preaching paternalistically to the "primitive tribals", fundamentally white-coded

so i mean yea it's racist because it relies on racist stereotypes about native americans, mandates that a white person come and take charge of these poor stupid 'tribes'--but even if you changed all that, it's fundamentally about an idea of 'civilization vs. tribal society' that it accepts as a true and meaningful distinction as its core premise, and that is just a straight up racist premise.

(and the reason i keep bringing up that both daniel and josh are mormons is that mormons have a long and storied history of brutal violence and colonialism against indigenous peoples, from their original violent settlement of utah to their 'indian placement program' to their deeply racist scripture, which makes their portrayal as benevolent white saviours particularly galling and repulsive)

[pmamtraveller]

VASILI VLADIMIROVICH PUKIREV, THE UNEQUAL MARRIAGE, 1862

The scene resembles a highly theatrical moment in a play; the church's light casts upon the three central characters in the artwork; the bride, highlighting her sorrowful and lovely form, the aged and weary-looking groom, and the bent priest. Around the couple are different attendants and spectators whose reactions vary from apathy to intrigue.

The bride is positioned on the right, wearing a classic white wedding dress and a veil. With a downcast face and a solemn look, she holds a lit candle in her hand. In sharp contrast, the groom, an older serious-looking man, stands on the left, wearing formal clothing with a medal on his chest, holding a matching candle, and gazing at his future bride.

The inspiration for the painting originated from a specific true story; Pukirev’s acquaintance, Sergei Mikhailovich Varentsov, a young merchant, was deeply in love with a twenty-four-year-old woman named Sofya Nikolaevna Rybnikova. However, her parents believed it would be more advantageous for her to wed a wealthier and more accomplished man, a thirty-seven-year-old named Andre Aleksandrovich Karzinkin. Sergei was compelled to attend the wedding and witness his beloved wed another for family reasons; his brother Nikolai had married Karzinkin’s younger sister. Sergei subsequently expressed concerns about Pukirev's painting, prompting the artist to alter the artwork. Pukirev ultimately positioned himself behind the bride.

The artwork is filled with symbolism that enhances its story, in the backdrop of the ceremony, among the spectators, two older women wearing wreaths resembling that of the bride (one behind the groom to the left, and the other on the far left barely visible behind the priest), with one of them depicted in white garment. The woman is barely visible and is adjacent to the priest, a rare arrangement since regular guests aren’t allowed to stand beside the priest during the ceremony. This might imply that these women are not physically present but instead represent the deceased ex-wives of the groom.

"The Unequal Marriage" created a stir when it was initially displayed at the yearly academic exhibition in 1862. Both critics and the public were impressed by its impactful social critique and deep emotional resonance. The artwork's bold depiction of the disparity in arranged marriages struck a chord with audiences, igniting conversations about social conventions and the treatment of young women.

[honeybeefae]

You're Mine (Eris Vanserra x Reader)

Summary// After leaving Eris behind to fulfill your parents' desire for marriage, knowing the two of you could never be, you did your best to move on. It had been five years, and you were finally starting to settle into your life with your husband when a late-night visitor brought back feelings you thought you had long since buried. 

(This idea has burrowed its way into my head and won’t leave anytime soon, so I’m dragging you all into this with me. I hope you like it <3 It's been awhile since I've wrote anything so if you have any critiques or opinions, please let me know!)

WARNINGS: Smut, Fertility Issues, Verbal Abuse (Spouse), Physical Abuse (Spouse) (A slap but nothing more), Possessive!Eris, Jealous!Eris, Cheating, Breeding Kink, Spanking

Five Years Ago

“Mother, please!” You beg, tears streaking down your hot cheeks as she gives you a look full of pity. It was a useless cause to try to convince your father against this arrangement, but your mother… she used to be a dreamer like you. She once thought of running away with a prince, of living happily ever after, so why wouldn’t she give you the same chance?

“Darling, please, collect yourself.” She urges, grabbing your hands and pulling you towards her. “Pierre will be here any moment with his family. They cannot see you like this.”

“They don’t have to! You could sneak me out the back, let me run away with-” You begin only to flinch when she grabs your face roughly, her eyes shining with a strange mixture of anger and agony. 

“With you, Y/N? With Eris?” She hisses, eyebrows furrowing together. “He is the heir to the Court. He will never choose you. He cannot. He will go with whichever maiden secures more political power, and that is not you.”

Your lower lip trembles as her words cut through you like hot steel. They settle in your soul, trying to burn out any hope you might have, and yet you persist. 

“No, Mother, you don’t understand. I love him. He loves me. We’ve been courting for months, dancing together and strolling through the gardens. Hells, he gave me this!” You gesture to the ruby necklace resting above your collarbone, wrapped in a gold band that resembles a fox’s tail. “Everyone has seen us together. His family, my family, does that mean nothing?”

She stares at you for a moment, her mouth turning downwards as her fury fades into sorrow. You swallow, trying to get the lump in your throat to disappear as the silence stretches on, but it refuses. 

“My darling girl,” She coos, her hands now cupping your cheeks. “One’s first love is something special, an experience worth remembering, but it is one that is never meant to last. He has his duties, as do you. It was never meant to be.”

The realization of the situation hits you in waves of denial, anger, and agony. It makes your head swim, and your stomach lurch as you try desperately to find anything to keep you afloat. 

“What if he does choose me, though? What if his parents see me as he does? Someone who makes him smile and laugh, who treats him well. If you could just let me speak with him one more time, keep Pierre and his father busy, I only need an hour.” You try to bargain with her, placing your hands over her own. She goes to respond, your hope hanging by a thread, only for your father’s voice to rise above the two of you.

“He has moved on, Y/N.” He sighs, clearly exasperated by your antics. “Beron has told us about Eris’s betrothed. It’s been arranged since birth. It is time for you to do the same.”

“But if he knew, why would he fall in love with me? I know what I saw, I know what I felt.” You press, wrapping your arms around yourself as your father’s jaw clenches. “He wouldn’t do that to me.”

“You don’t think he would?” His scowl deepens as he glances at your mother over your shoulder before fishing for something in his coat pocket, ignoring his wife as she begins to protest. “Read this.”

“What is it?” You ask.

“Just read it.” He pushes the parchment into your hand, rolling his eyes.

Your fingers tremble as you glance at the letter, noticing Eris’s penmanship immediately. The words seem to blur together towards the end, but you realize it isn’t due to his writing but your tears. One of them splashes on the paper, staining it immediately as his voice echoes in your mind.

I regret to inform you of the ending of our courtship, effective immediately. Please know this is through not fault of your own. You were a wonderful experience. I should not have led you on, but I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. Even though I am the least deserving of it. 

Yours,

Eris Vanserra

A loud sound echoed off the walls, and it wasn’t until your knees hit the floor that you realized it had come from you. You felt the world collapsing in, your dreams fading with each heartbeat as your worst fear came true. Your parents watched, one with sympathy and one with indifference, as you came to grips with reality. 

The silence after was choking you as the paper lay taunting you, his signature ingrained in your brain as a loud knock was heard from the front. Soft hands gingerly picked you up as your father’s footsteps led to the door, his voice booming as he greeted Pierre.

“Come now, Y/N,” She shushes you, brushing your tears away with a mother’s softness. “I know it hurts, but in time, it will fade, and you will find happiness with Pierre and your future family.”

“I cannot imagine feeling anything other than this, Mama.” You murmur, numbness starting to spread throughout your body as she smiles sadly and kisses your forehead.

“You will, sweet girl.” She assures you, pinching your cheeks to bring some color back as Pierre draws closer. 

“How do you know?” Your gaze raises to meet hers, searching.

She chuckles, though you know it is without humor, watching as she seems to drift far away for a moment before the sounds of your father's throat clearing behind you brings her back. 

Her arms pull you into a tight hug as she whispers into your ear, “Because I did.”

Present Day

From your wedding day to now, you have been desperately searching for the happiness your mom said would come. You threw everything into your relationship, forcing Eris into the darkest crevices of your heart so that you could move on. Pierre wasn’t an awful man. He was kind and generous, always concerned about your feelings and ensuring you were cared for. 

He knew about your past with Eris and never pushed you but soothed you like a balm to your soul. Your love for Pierre was different, but it was there; you just needed something more. However, you knew better than to dream of it. You could be happy with him, will be happy with him. 

Eris had made it very clear that he did not intend to return for you. He hadn’t even had the courage to come to your wedding nor send you any well wishes. You had seen him since, of course, but he always did his best to avoid you. If you did happen to catch his gaze during a dinner or ball, his eyes were always full of anger. 

It was in your best interest to forget all about him. 

You were torn from your thoughts as the front door opened, your husband poking his head around to look for you. A soft smile pulls at your lips effortlessly, rising up to greet him, only to stall when you see how angry he is. 

“Pierre, what is it?” You ask, forehead creasing as he all but slams a letter he had been holding onto the dining table.

“The new high lord,” He scowls, jaw clenching. “He is asking myself and the other merchants to travel across Prythian to secure new deals or else forfeit our titles.”

New high lord?

“Beron is dead?” You whisper, grasping the edge of the table. “How did he…who did…was it…?”

“Eris, yes, the treasonous snake,” Pierre grunts, raising his eyes to you. “It apparently happened overnight, and he is already throwing everything out. I knew he was a bastard, but to-”

“He is not a bastard,” You say before you can catch yourself, your mind screaming at you for rushing to his defense. You owe him nothing—no loyalty, no love, nothing. So why did you speak?

The air in the room seemed to change as he cocks his head, his eyes darkening dangerously. You feel the hairs on your neck raise as you step back, trying to put distance between you. However, Pierre doesn’t hesitate to follow you as the letter is now crumpled in his fist.

“I knew it.” He snaps, nostrils flaring as he grabs your arm and yanks you to him. You let out a small yelp, trying to push against him, but he doesn’t yield. “I’ve given you everything you could ever want. I’ve built you this home, this life when I could’ve treated you like filth.”

“Pierre, please, let go,” Your voice is a whimper as his grasp tightens. “You’re hurting me.”

“Me? Hurting you?” His laugh echoes off the walls, one of his hands running hastily through his hair. “Don’t act like you don’t deserve it. I’ve put up with this teenage moping for five fucking years. I’ve played the part of the gentleman, the family man, and you still can’t get over him. Pathetic doesn’t even begin to cover what you are.”

Tears fall down your face as you sob, finally gaining the strength to rip your arm away as he turns and punches a hole into the wall beside him. You cannot stop yourself from trembling as his shoulders shake with fury, his breath coming in short pants.

“Do you know what they all tell me? Our friends and family?” Pierre asks, closing his eyes. “They tell me how sorry they are for me. How much they pity me. They’ve even suggested taking a whore on the side, so at least that way I could secure an heir.”

The last sentence strikes deep, one of your hands resting on your lower stomach as he gives you a mocking laugh. You had been trying to have a child for a while now. Under the care of a midwife, you had been drinking the teas, reducing your stress, and month after month, you failed. Pierre had been there for you throughout it, promising you that it was not your fault, and for him now to throw it back in your face…it made you sick. 

“Y-you told me that it was okay, that these things take time. Going into this marriage, you knew what I had been through and who my former lover was, and you said it was fine.” You hate how your voice trembles as you keep your eyes on the floor. “I thought you understood me, that you could see I was finally starting to heal, but was it all a lie? Have I been sleeping next to someone who I do not know?”

He watches you momentarily, taking in how meek you look and the tears that now stain your face. Footsteps fill the silence and stop once you see his feet, a soft hand coming to cup your chin and force you to look up.

Pierre was there in body but not in mind. The eyes that once held so much comfort were now empty, the smile now a scowl, and his touch burning rather than soothing. He turned your face from side to side, mesmerizing your beauty before smirking.

“I guess that’s two men who’ve used you now, huh?”

You don’t register the slap you gave him until you see his pupils dilate, your eyes widening in fear as your palm begins to burn from the contact. He snarls at you, and before you can apologize or scream, you aren’t sure which one, he backhands you and sends you spiraling to the floor. 

“I’ll be back in the morning, don’t wait up.” He calls over his shoulder, straightening his jacket before he walks out the door without even a glance at your crumpled body.

It takes longer than you’d like to admit to collect yourself off the floor, your face red-hot even though you know you have already healed. He hit you. He yelled at you, belittled you, and then slapped you as if it were nothing. A wolf in sheep's clothing. 

Your hands dig into the wood of the table as you pull yourself up, hating how weak you feel as you cry. This wouldn't have happened if you had kept your mouth shut. Why did you even say anything? After all this time, why did you feel you still needed to speak up for the man who deserted you?

“Fuck!” You scream as your sadness turns to rage, grabbing a nearby vase and hurling it at the wall. It instantly shatters and clatters to the floor, flower petals scattering everywhere with the glass shards. 

It doesn’t make you feel better. So you throw another vase and another, and then a portrait until the room looks like a tornado ripped through it. But nothing is working to fill the hole in your chest that was just violently ripped open once again. 

A clock nearby chimes out twelve times, and you blink as you realize how much time has passed. Your adrenaline leaves your body quickly as exhaustion takes place, and your eyes glare at the front door one last time before you start heading up the stairs.

However, as your foot hits the first step, a loud knocking startles you. At first, you think it’s Pierre, drunk and probably without a key, but then you hear a voice. A voice that has haunted your dreams for five years.

“Y/N? Y/N, open the door. I know you are in there.” 

It can’t be…

You tiptoe to the door, your heart racing as you stare down at the knob. What should you do? Why was he here? What did he want? Should you even let him in? The consequences could be deadly, especially after what he had done just last night to his own father, but your heart was winning over your head right now.

“Please, my love, let me in.”

Your hand grasps the knob and turns it before you can stop yourself, the door opening to reveal Eris.

He looks the same, damn him. His red hair was tied back in a half-up style, the rest falling over his slender shoulders covered in a thick, dark green coat. Eris’s eyes, the color of molten amber, met yours with a ferocity that made your breath catch. Your stomach fills with butterflies as the night air caresses your skin, whispering long-forgotten memories that send your heart fluttering. 

“Eris…” you whisper, your voice tight with emotion. Whatever spell had taken over the two of you broke as you said his name. His hands came up to grasp your face as he pulled you in and kissed you, lips molding to yours as if they had never told you goodbye. 

And, cauldron help you, you kiss him back just as fiercely. You had thought about seeing him again more often than you care to admit, about how you would scream at him for what he did to you or prove to him you were better off without him. But once again, your heart craves what your mind desperately tries to discard.

It’s only when your back hits the wall of the foyer that you pull away, gasping for air as you shove him back. He blinks, dumbfounded, and goes for you again, but you shake your head and slap his hands away, gaze hot as years of resentment flood your veins.

“How dare you come into my home and kiss me like that after all you did.” You seethe, teeth clenching as he regards you like a caged predator. “You can’t just show up and do that! You can’t come in here and ruin my marriage, my life like you have any ownership of me.”

“I don’t think I was the one to ruin your marriage, little fox.” Eris replies smoothly, standing straight and giving a pointed look behind you to the mess of a dining room. 

“Don’t call me that.” You snarl, wrapping your arms around your body for comfort. “You need to leave. Now.”

“I won’t,” He states, looking you over. “I’ve defeated my father. I’m rebuilding the court and our reputation, gutting it from the inside out. I’m here to collect the last thing I need.”

Your brain goes fuzzy as he stretches out his hand, waiting for you to fall into his arms as if the past were not there. As if his letter and necklace weren’t still tucked away in a drawer by your bed. No matter how badly you missed and yearned for him, you couldn’t forgive him that easily.

“You led me on for years,” You say softly, your voice numb as you take another step back. “You courted me as if you cared. You made me believe we were real, that we would be together forever. Do you think I could just forgive and forget that after you left me with only a letter for an explanation?”

“I thought you were smarter than that.” Eris sighs and clenches his jaw, running a hand down his face as he closes the front door. 

“Excuse me? Get the-” 

“I didn’t write that letter, Y/N.” He interrupts you, coming to stand in front of you in just two short steps. “My father forced me. And yours, for that matter. I would never let you go. It was only under threat of your own harm that I chose to obey, but I swore to myself that as soon as I took control, I would come find you.”

The angry retort you had building dies in your throat, your head tilting to the side as if you hadn’t heard him correctly. 

“You…you didn’t mean what you wrote?” Your voice has a hint of hope, like the last spark of a fire, but you can’t help it. If he was telling the truth, and you still weren’t entirely convinced he was, it meant he had been waiting for you all these years. 

He grabs your face again, but it’s soft and caring this time, his thumb brushing across your cheek and collecting a tear you didn’t know had escaped. You look into his eyes, finding nothing but honesty, which only worsens it. 

“It hurt that you think I would treat you that way, that I could just throw everything we had away…” Eris whispers, tilting your chin up so you can’t look away. “I’m not your husband. I take care of what is mine. Forever. ”

The mention of him makes you wince and somewhat come back to your senses, glancing towards the clock and realizing he could be back at any moment. If he caught you with Eris, there would be no telling what he would do. Eris could take care of himself; he was a High Lord now after all, but you were vulnerable.

“Pierre…he could be home any minute. Eris, you can’t be here. You need to leave.” You frown, trying to move past him, only to gasp when his hand moves down to your neck and stills you. The hold isn’t tight, but you freeze, wide eyes looking up at him in worry. “Eris, if he finds you here with me-”

“Did you not hear what I said, little fox?” He asks mockingly, bowing his head so his lips can brush against your ear. “I take care of what is mine. And you are mine.”

Eris accentuates his words with a roll of his hips, his half-hard cock pressing against your lower half teasingly. You don’t stop the whimper that sneaks past your lips or the way your neck turns so he can mouth over your pulse point. 

“I’ve waited years for this moment, to see you again and take you home. I’ve watched as that pathetic excuse for a man dotes on you and brags about how pretty you sound in bed.” He growls, grabbing your hips and lifting you up effortlessly as you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. “The only thing that kept me sane was knowing you weren’t moaning from him like you did for me, that he can’t fill you up like your needy little pussy begs for.” 

“Please…” You whine, though you aren’t entirely sure what you are asking for. His touch was like fire against your cool skin, setting you aflame in a way you hadn’t felt in years. 

One of his hands snakes between the two of you and quickly finds your panties, his lips curling back as he feels the heat of your cunt. You swear you hear him purr as he begins to furiously bite and suck on your neck and collarbone, marking you. 

“Tell me what you need.” Eris commands, pulling back to look into your eyes.

Words fail you momentarily as you stare at each other, your heart threatening to explode as he refuses to drop his gaze. There were so many consequences to this decision, no matter what you choose, and so many things that need to be said before you can logically proceed.

But when the pad of his thumb presses against your clit and circles it slowly, the corner of his mouth tilting up to smirk, you know logic will not win tonight. 

“You, Eris,” You moan, trying to press further onto his hand for more friction. “You’re all I’ve ever needed.”

You don’t have time to scream as he squeezes you tightly and carries you up the stairs, your body bouncing so that your lower half hits his cock with each step. He groans and looks around momentarily before kicking open your bedroom door. He then throws you onto the bed and starts to undo his belt, all while keeping those burning amber eyes on you.

“Strip. Now.” He orders, voice raspy as you hastily follow his instructions, your fingers fumbling with the laces of your corset. Eris is already naked by the time you have it halfway undone, his pale skin glowing in the moonlight as he stalks over to you and grabs both sides of your top. 

“I hope you weren’t too fond of this.” Eris hums, giving no warning as he rips it in two.  You shiver as the cool air licks at your skin, your nipples pebbling while he licks his lips in anticipation. “I always thought you looked better bare anyways.”

Heat runs down your body at the comment, your thighs clenching, immediately catching his eye. You try to rise up on your knees to kiss him, but he is quick to pin you down, straddling your waist as his cock rests heavily over your cunt. 

“Let me touch you, please,” You don’t even recognize your own voice as you beg for him. It had been so long since you had felt this needy for someone. “I need something, anything, just please!”

Before you can babble anymore, his lips collide with yours, claiming you possessively as two of his fingers prod at your soaking pussy. He bites down on your bottom lip, and at the same time, he shoves his fingers inside, giving you no prep as he swallows your cries. 

“I know, baby, I know,” He coos into your ear, moving to nibble on your earlobe. “We can make love next time, but right now, right now I need to fuck your pretty little brain out to make up for lost time.”

Your back arches as he curls his fingers, finding your spot with ease and teasing you as he kisses down your neck and to your breasts. He sucks your left nipple into his mouth, capturing it between his teeth and tugging until you moan. His cock is leaking against your thigh as he ruts against you. 

Rough sex wasn’t new to you, though it had been a while. Pierre was always gentle, taking his time, and while Eris had his moments, he was quite fond of making you beg. However, when fantasizing about this, you always imagine Eris cherishing the moment. This was raw and feral.

“Eris, I’m c-close…” You groan, rolling your hips so he can get even deeper. Your walls flutter around his thick fingers, squeezing them, but right before you can fall over the edge, he pulls them out roughly. “No!”

“The only way you are cumming tonight is around this cock.” He grunts, flipping you over so that you are lying on your stomach before dragging your hips up. Both of his hands squeeze your ass before he lines himself up to your hole, rubbing his length up and down to coat himself in your slick.

“Ohhh fuck…” You moan as the head catches on your clit, your entire cunt throbbing in anticipation. “Fuck me.”

“Not yet, little fox. I want you to tell me how badly you want it.” Eris says lowly, grasping his cock and barely pressing into you before pulling away. “Tell me how much you missed me, how much you thought about me while your husband fucked you in this bed.”

Your nails dig so hard into the mattress you are sure you’ll rip it as you screw your eyes shut, already so sensitive from his teasing. It felt so wrong to speak the thoughts you have been burying for so long, to admit that you never got over the High Lord behind you. 

All of your inhibitions get thrown out the window, though, as he lands a harsh smack on your ass, his fingers pinching your clit in annoyance. 

“Don’t pretend like you haven’t thought about this, about me, Y/N. That whenever your husband would roll over at night after a mediocre fuck you wouldn’t rub that needy clit while wishing it was me.” He hisses, one of his hands grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking until your neck is craned up. “Give yourself to me, let it go.”

“Yes, okay, yes, I haven’t stopped thinking about you!” You sob, every nerve in your body on edge as he grins in approval. “Every time I had sex, every night in the bath, I couldn’t stop picturing your hands. Your chest. Your cock.”

Eris rewards your confession with what you had been craving, thrusting his entire length in one fluid movement as your pussy burns from the stretch. 

“More. Give me more.” He demands, pulling almost all the way out before snapping his hips forward.

“I-” You swallow, your mind starting to fuzz with the ecstasy of having him back inside you. “I would close my eyes and pretend it was you. I wanted it to be you. He could never compare to you, could never make me feel this good.”

Your head drops down as he lets go of your hair in favor of grabbing your hips, hypnotized by the way your cunt swallowed him whole. His hair was starting to stick to his forehead as he truly fucked you. There was no gentleness, no tendrils of love, just pure ownership and passion.

And cauldron damn you did you love it.

“Gods damn it,” Eris swears, moving one of his hands underneath you to rest on your abdomen so he could feel just how deep inside you he was. “Touch yourself, Y/N. I want you to cum on my cock as I fill you up.”

There was a distant panic in the back of your head at the thought of him cumming inside you. You weren’t on any special tea to prevent pregnancy. In fact, you were on something to encourage it. 

“Eris, wait-” You try to protest, your words dying in your throat as he starts to rub your clit for you. His hands are calloused from years of use, giving you the friction that you need to cum within minutes. “Eris, I’m not on any birth control. If you-”

“What, you think I don’t want to knock you up?” He chuckles, voice rough as he increases the speed of both his fingers and thrusts. “Oh, Y/N, did you already forget you’re mine? I came here to claim you and breed you, little fox.”

“Oh my gods,” You whimper, the image only making you draw closer to your finish as he bends over to get right next to your ear. 

“You’re going to take all of my cum and thank me for it. I’m going to do what your husband couldn’t, right here in his bed for him to smell when he comes home.” Eris sneers, a tingle going up his spine as he feels his balls tighten with the need to release. “I’ll have you barefoot and pregnant for me before he can even come get you. You’re fucking mine.”

“Yours, Eris!” You repeat, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you clench around him. He gives one more circle on your bud, and you are gone, lost to a mind-numbing orgasm that has him throwing his head back and roaring. 

Every muscle in your body tightens and releases as you greedily milk his own cum into your womb, your screams echoing off the bedroom walls. You don’t even register Eris biting your shoulder, the pain mixing dangerously with the pleasure as small rivulets of blood run down your back. 

You feel your knees give out as you collapse onto the bed, lungs begging for air while Eris slowly pulls out of you. He is silent, and you have just enough strength to look back to see him watching his speed leak out of your gaping hole, his fingers quick to collect it and stuff it back inside you.

“Eris…” You whisper, your eyes are heavy as he gingerly lifts you up and cradles you in his arms. “Is this…did you really come back for me?”

He lets out a small huff of air in humor as he nods, kissing your forehead and smoothing away your hair. Exhausted, you lean into the touch, and he seems to hold you closer. “I’ll always come back for you, little fox.” 

[nellasbookplanet]

Book recs: Queer science fiction, part 1

There is a lot of queer sf out there, and I read a lot of sf. When I started working on this list, I quickly realized it was impossible to include all that I've read and enjoyed in one single rec post. Thus, this is the first of so far three queer sci-fi book rec posts.

A note: queer here does not necessarily mean "guarantee of an f/f or m/m ship with a happy ending", but rather simply a significant presence of queerness. Some of the books feature no romance but has a same gender attracted/trans/a-spectrum lead, or features an m/f relationship with bisexual, trans or aro/ace characters, or simply features a world-building which is heavily queer inclusive in ways that don't always compare to our own ideas of sexuality and gender. I have however disqualified works where the only queer presence is along the lines of "gay best friend" or a blink and you'll miss it confirmation that never comes up again.

Previous book rec posts:

Really cool fantasy worldbuilding, really cool sci-fi worldbuilding, dark sapphic romances, mermaid books, vampire books, many worlds: portal fantasies, many worlds: alternate timelines, robots and artificial intelligences, post- and transhumanism, alien intelligences

For more details on the books, continue under the readmore. Titles marked with * are my personal favorites. And as always, feel free to share your own recs in the notes!

The Light Brigade by Kameron Hurley*

Dietz is a soldier in the war between Earth and Mars - to travel to the battle front, she and her fellow soldiers are broken down into light to be able to quickly travel across space. But something keeps going wrong with Dietz's travels; her memories don't match up with the mission briefs, as she experiences time itself turning in on itself. Is she going mad? Or are the things she's learning skipping through time the truth - and the war that's stealing her life the lie? A mindfuck of a book that's scathing in its critique of fascism and war. Features a sapphic lead but no romance.

A Psalm for the Wild-Built (Monk and Robot duology) by Becky Chambers

Novella. Long ago, robots, upon gaining sentience, simply laid down their work and walked into the wilderness. Long after, a tea monk looking for purpose follows after them into the wilds, where they come across one of the robots seeking its own sort of answers. While not plotless, this story focuses more on character and vibes over plot. Also has a nonbinary main character and features conversations on gender between human and robot.

Meet Me In Another Life by Catriona Silvey*

Thora and Santi are strangers, brought together by a coincidence and torn apart just as abruptly when tragedy strikes. But this is neither the first nor the last time they meet - again and again they encounter each other, as friends, lovers, enemies, family, every time recognizing in each other a familiarity no one else carries. But with every new life, a mysterious danger grows ever closer, forcing them to find out the truth of their connection. This is a puzzle-box of a story that goes some entirely unexpected places in a very wild ride, featuring a bisexual co-lead.

The Archive Undying (The Downworld Sequence) by Emma Mieko Candon

In a world where AI gods sometimes lose their minds and take entire populations down with them, Sunai was the only survivor when his god went down. In the 17 years since, he has wandered on his own, unable to either die or age, drowning his sorrows in drink and men. But his attempts to flee his past comes to a stop as he is forced back into the struggle between man and machine. Featuring some pretty wild world building and narrative techniques, this book will definitely confuse you, but it is worth the experience.

The Paradox Hotel by Rob Hart

January Cole works security at the Paradox Hotel, last stop for tourists heading for the timeport, which allows them to travel to and witness any moment in time. But years of proximity to the timeport has left its damage on January, making her unstuck in time, letting her relive memories of her dead lover even as her sanity slips away bit by bit. As she starts witnessing proof of a horrible crime in the hotel that no one else can see, January must race against her own mind, a killer, and time itself to solve it before it's too late.

A Fractured Infinity by Nathan Tavares

Hayes Figueiredo is a struggling film-maker who wants to finish his documentary, whose life gets turned upside down when handsome physicist Yusuf Hassan enters his life, claiming an alternate version of him is a great inventor who’s sent a mysterious device to their universe. As Hayes gets drawn deeper into the conspiracy - and his feelings for Yusuf intensify - he has to decide just how far he’s prepared to go to win the life and the love he wants. Featuring a very gay and very morally dubious lead, this is a creative and strange read.

Bridge by Lauren Beukes

When she was little, Bridge and her mother Jo used to play a game - one where they traveled to other worlds, inhabiting the bodies of their other selves. Now Jo is dead, and as Bridge is cleaning out her apartment she finds a strange device: a dreamworm, the very thing that supposedly makes inter-dimensional travel possible. Suddenly faced with the possibility that multiverse travel is real, Bridge is struck by a different question: could her mother still be alive? Scifi spiced with a healthy dose of body horror and some absolutely wild twists, Bridge also features a bisexual lead (however this is a blink and you’ll miss it moment) and a nonbinary co-narrator.

The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet (Wayfarers series) by Becky Chambers

Rosemary Harper just got a job on the motley crew of the Wayfarer, a spaceship that works with tunneling new wormholes through space. With a past she wants to leave behind, Rosemary is happy to travel the far reaches of the universe with the chaotic crew, but when they land the job of a life time, things suddenly get a lot more dangerous. A bit of a tumblr classic in its day, this is a cozy space opera with an episodic feel and vividly realized characters and cultures. While pretty light on romance and focusing found family, there is a main f/f relationship.

An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon

Life on the lower decks of the generation ship HSS Matilda is hard for Aster, an outcast even among outcasts, trying to survive in a system not dissimilar to the old antebellum South. The ship's leaders have imposed harsh restrictions on their darker skinned people, using them as an oppressed work force as they travel toward their supposed Promised Land. But as Aster finds a link between the death of the ship's sovereign and the suicide of her own mother, she realizes there may be a way off the ship.

Ninefox Gambit (The Machineries of Empire trilogy) by Yoon Ha Lee*

Military space opera where belief and culture shape the laws of reality, causing all kinds of atrocities as empires do everything in their power to force as many people as possible to conform to their way of life to strengthen their technology and weapons. It’s also very queer, with gay, lesbian and trans major characters, albeit little to no romance.

The Left Hand of Darkness (Hainish Cycle) by Ursula K. Le Guin

1969 classic. Genly Ai is an emissary sent to the planet of Winter, meant to help facilitate Winter's inclusion in a growing intergalactic civilization. But he's unprepared for Winter's citizens, who spend much of their time genderless or switching between genders, making for a culture wildly different from that Genly is used to.

Too Like the Lightning (Terra Ignota series) by Ada Palmer*

Centuries in the future, humanity has deliberatly engineered society to be as utopian as possible, politically, socially, sexually, religiously. Written in an enlightenment style and featuring questions of human nature and whether it’s possible to change it, and what price we’re prepared to pay for peace, this book is simultaneously very heavy and very funny, and written in a very unique style. While still human, the society presented often feels starkly alien.

The Stars Are Legion by Kameron Hurley

This book fucked me up when I read it. It’s weird, it’s gross, there’s So Much Viscera, there are literally no men, it has living spaceships and biotech but in the most horrific way imaginable. Had I to categorize it I would call it grimdark military sf. It’s an experience but not necessarily a pleasant one.

The Luminous Dead by Caitlin Starling*

Possibly one of the most unsettling books I’ve ever read, and definitely the most claustrophobic. Gyre, a caver on an alien planet, ventures into the dark and dangerous underground, guided only by a woman who has no compunctions on using and manipulating Gyre as she sees fit to obtain her secretive goals down in the caves.

Escaping Exodus (Escaping Exodus series) by Nicky Drayden

While my feelings on Escaping Exodus were mixed, it cannot be denied that the dynamic between the two leads and the way they go from childhood best friends to enemies on different sides of a class and power struggle is very delicious. It also features some really cool worldbuilding of living, alien generation spaceships and the human culture that has developed inside them.

The Doors of Eden by Adrian Tchaikovsky*

The Doors of Eden is something of an experiment in speculative biology, featuring versions of Earth in which various different species were the one to rise to sentience, from dinosaurs to neanderthals. Now, something is threatening the existence of all timelines, dragging multiple different people and species into the struggle, among those a pair of cryptid hunting girlfriends and a transgender scientist.

Ascension by Jacqueline Koyanagi

Ascension follows Alana Quick, an expert Sky Surgeon who stows away on a spaceship in hopes of landing herself a job. But the ship and its crew are in deeper waters than she expected, facing threats emerging from a whole other universe, all of them searching for the same person: Alana’s spiritually enlightened sister. Undeniably a bit of an odd read, Ascension is also very creative and features polyamorous lesbian relationship.

Contagion (Contagion duology) by Erin Bowman*

Young adult. After receiving an SOS, a small crew is sent on a standard search-and-rescue mission. But what they find are not survivors awaiting help, but an abandoned site, full of dead bodies and crawling with something... monstrous. No romance, but features one sapphic co-lead and one who can easily be read as demisexual (however this doesn't show up until book two, which has more romance).

A Memory Called Empire (Texicalaan duology) by Arkady Martine

Mahit Dzmare is an ambassador sent to the center of the multi-system Teixcalaanli Empire, where she discovers that her predecessor has died. Trying to protect her home, an independent mining station, from being taken over by the empire, Mahit struggles to find out the truth of her predecessor's death while carrying the voice of his ghost in her head, guiding her as best he can. Light on the romance but does feature a sapphic relationship.

The Outside (The Outside trilogy) by Ada Hoffman*

AKA the book the put me in an existenial crisis. Souls are real, and they are used to feed AI gods in this lovecraftian inspired scifi where reality is warped and artifical gods stand against real, unfathomable ones. Autistic scientist Yasira is accused of heresy and, to save her eternal soul, is recruited by post-human cybernetic ‘angels’ to help hunt down her own former mentor, who is threatening to tear reality itself apart. Sapphic main character.

Dawn (Xenogenesis trilogy) by Octavia E. Butler*

After a devestating war leaves humanity on the brink of extinction, survivor Lilith finds herself waking up naked and alone in a strange room. She’s been rescued by the Oankali, who have arrived just in time to save the human race. But there’s a price to survival, and it might be humanity itself. Absolutely fucked up I love it I once had to drop the book mid read to stare at the ceiling and exclaim in horror at what was going on. Queer in the sense that the Oankali doesn't follow human ideas of gender and relationships, which is mirrored in their romantic relationships with humans. It is, however, pretty dark, with examinations of agency and consent, so enter with caution.

Remnant by Kate Genet

One day, Cass wakes up and finds everyone else is gone. Not dead, just gone, leaving her in a world which nature starts taking back with a dangerous, unnatural speed. But as she tries to survive this new normal, Cass realizes she may not be alone after all - but who else is out there, and are they a threat?

The Scorpion Rules (Prisoners of Peace duology) by Erin Bow*

Young Adult. Featuring a dystopian future in which an AI forcibly keeps world peace by holding the children of world leaders hostage. If anyone attempts to start a war, their child will be executed. Greta is one of these children, kept in a school with others like her. But things start to change one day when a new, less obedient hostage arrives. A unique, slowburn take on the YA dystopian craze, also featuring a bisexual love triangle.

Iron Widow (Iron Widow series) by Xiran Jay Zhao

Young adult. Zetian is a citizen of Huaxia, where mecha aliens are constantly trying to breach the Great Wall. To keep them at bay, couples of men and women pilot so called Chrysalises, giant transforming robots. But the pilots are not equal - the women almost always die, sucked dry by their co-pilots. When Zetian sets herself up to become a concubine-pilot, she does so with the plan to assassinate the male pilot who caused her sister's death. Features a polyamorous main relationship.

Bonus AKA I haven't read these yet but they seem really cool:

Survival Instincts by May Dawney

Lynn Tanner has been surviving the post-apocalypse alone with only her dog for a long time, trusting no one. But when she's forced to travel the dangerous remains of New York City alongside another woman, her priorities are challenged. Is staying alone really the best way to stay alive?

These Burning Stars by Bethany Jacobs

When con-artist Jun Ironway gets her hands on possible proof of the powerful Nightfoot family, controllers of interplanetary travel, committing genocide, she has in her hands a chance of taking them and their monopoly down. But the family and their allies won't go down easily, and sends two brutal clerics to stop her.

Everfair by Nisi Shawl

A neo-victorian alternate history, in which a part of Congo was kept safe from colonisation, becoming Everfair, a safe haven for both the people of Congo and former slaves returning from America. Here they must struggle to keep this home safe for them all.

[valentine-cafe]

. ˚◞♡ 𝒚𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎 𝒔𝒂𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ꒰ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏-𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒍𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒕  ꒱◞ ₊˚

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ jingyi verseless / fem sacrificial reader ꒱ your village has a tradition of picking the flower maiden, a woman to be sacrificed every so often to a demon of the abhorration. this year, it seems that you are the lucky flower

𖹭. content warnings◞  yandere behaviour .  kidnapping . 0.8k

𖹭. receipts◞  had this idea and just had to put it onto paper because hello

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔 ꒱ m.list . guidelines . characters . lorebook ⊹ ۪ ࣪ 

imagine being born to a village that sacrifices their most beautiful, most dutiful, most splendid maiden - as a bride to a demon, they always say.

the decade’s flower maiden. quite the title. both feared and revered.

but when you stood there with a crown of flowers feeling like a crown of thorns, the former shone true. your heart racing as though it wished to tear through your chest and flee from your body. run far - far away. what would it matter? your chest cavity would surely be ripped into two once the demon got his hands on you.

as you stood amongst the diagram drawn with nectar and rose petals. you inhale. bidding one final glance to the deranged villagers who only looked at you with sympathetic smiles and sorrowful eyes.

they could stop this. any time they wished.

who is to say the demon would come knocking on the door?

was there even a demon?

the question would crumble away once you stood before him. tall, dark. an accumulation of ebony mist framed over where you assumed his eyes should be. long claws you can only remind yourself are for tearing. razor teeth for the same.

“another?”

he sounds unimpressed. you are certain the flowers wilt when met with his dry tone. nevertheless you stand straight. fingers twitching as you shakily fiddle.

“are. . . are you -”

“the demon your people obsess over? take a guess sweetheart.”

a chill rises goosebumps in your skin when the demon circles around your far smaller form. while the fog obscures his face, you can almost feel the look of judgement. you could not help the thorn of irritation poking through your chest.

you were the prettiest lily of the valley, what critique might he hold?

the thought is drowned out by the screams of your logic. why were you upset over such a thing? it is not as though you will see the light of day with him to bask in his judgement for much longer. it matters not. you are prey.

and yet his fingers extending those dark claws, adorned in several silver rings — they caress your face as though you are not.

like a flower indeed. one to be put on display in a pretty, golden vase. treated with the utmost care and shown off to all entering one’s abode.

“well I typically release all the pitiful sacrifices your people send my way,” your heart sinks. he stills it by leaning down. a pale face only a breath away. “I must say that this decade’s sacrifice is . . . certainly stunning.”

those claws find your waist instead of your chest. an effortless tug flushing your body to his.

how might a demon feel so soft? like silk. . . wrapped around a bouquet of roses. it is what you felt like when the crux of his finger raises your chin.

“while I hold no interest in your incessant little village. . . I am quite the greedy being. when something catches my eye - well,”

a sharp thumb nail pokes at your lower lip. the first threat of a tear. so close - yet the distraction of mist dissipating to reveal pools of maroon. a face of a demon, that should surely belong to an angel. . . all fear leaks through your pores.

“I take it.”

the middle of your spine arches. the cotton of the white dress your village had clothed you in hangs, as the being leans over you. his height quickly making itself known once more. his hand finds place between your shoulder blades.

“I am sure you would not mind. after all. it is what your people sent you here for, is it not?”

“b-but -”

a chuckle. deep and dark. it strums a chord in your heart. a burst of butterflies flood your tummy. you practically see them venture out into the marble halls of what you can only assume to be his abode.

“your attempts to denial will certainly be cute. but I see it in your eyes,”

the hand glides down to the small of your back. claws tracing, yet never scratching. never tearing.

“you search for an escape. do you not, wild flower?” his thumb strokes. his body flushes to yours. perhaps it is the eyes of a demon. the essence of staring into them. drowning within his stare - that makes your mind echo his words in fervent whispers. desperate agreements.

“I -”

“now, don’t fight it,”

the demon croons. a curl finding his red lips. they set beside your ear and fan a breath lingered with a thousand promises, you can only imagine.

“I shall treat you like the most delicate of roses. the most revered of blossoms. my sweet, sweet wild flower.”

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[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Setting the Mood

Setting the Mood in Your Novel

Mood - goes beyond the atmosphere of your novel.

It is the feeling your novel inspires in the reader.

Whether your reader comes away from the novel with a chuckle, or a heaviness of heart—it’s likely to be the mood that’s responsible.

Mood can influence context, how you experience the story, and what you take from it. Example:

In a story where people are stranded on a desolate island, the mood could be Gilligan’s Island, or it could be Lost.

Similar circumstances, but the two stories produce a profoundly different emotion.

Mood Changes

Through the course of your novel, the mood will change.

It’s likely to shift, as the reader connects with the narrator, develops empathy for the protagonist, and experiences the ups and downs of your exquisite storytelling.

Your story’s mood can jump from jubilant to sorrowful and then back again.

Remember that mood doesn’t have to be constant, but it does need to be ever-present.

The Importance of Mood

You must create a mood that enhances the story you’re telling, whether that story is sad, terrifying, romantic, or joyful. When you tell a story, you want people to feel a certain way when hearing or reading it.

Example: If you’re relaying a funny story to your best friend--you want your friend to feel happy and even laugh while hearing it.

It’s the same way with a novel. You can do that by first striking the right tone, which will then create the right mood.

Mood also enhances the reader’s experience.

As a writer, your goal for the reader should always be emotional reaction.

The reader needs to feel emotionally attached to the story, the characters, the plot, and the possibilities.

The right mood will help the reader immerse completely into your world of characters. It will give them a personal and visceral connection to the story.

Mood vs. Tone

Mood deals with the reader.

Tone deals with the writer and/or the narrator.

The tone of a story is how the narrator feels about what’s happening in the story.

Sometimes, it can be connected to the mood, and in other times, it can be in stark contrast to the mood.

Example: You have an unreliable narrator who happens to be a serial killer. He or she may use a matter-of-fact, or even humorous tone when depicting events. As the reader, the tone may make you feel uncomfortable, unsettled, or weirded out-- that’s the mood.

And that’s also an extreme example.

Generally, if the narrator can be trusted, the mood and the tone will be similar.

Mood vs. Tone vs. Voice

Voice is different from tone.

Your writer’s voice is your own.

It’s the unique style in which you tell your stories.

You’ll carry your voice with you to every book your write.

It’s tethered to you as an author and doesn’t change. However, tone can change from book to book, character to character, scene to scene.

Remember the old saying “tone of voice”. Your tone can change, but your voice is uniquely and consistently yours, no matter the tone.

The Right Mood

What do I want the reader to feel when reading my novel?

Is the answer: Delighted? Suspenseful? Hopeful? Helpless? Desperate?

Whatever the targeted sentiment, be intentional.

Write towards that emotion.

During the self-editing process, check your work against that specific emotion.

After a peer critique, inquire about the reader’s emotion.

Is it the same as the emotion you were hoping to create?

If not, edit until you get the right emotion.

The Importance of an Emotional Goal

Emotions tie the reader to your story.

Finding the right emotion(s) will also strengthen your story, and make it more engaging. Without a defined emotional goal, your story will feel loose, unfocused, and unintentional.

4 Ways to Establish Mood in Your Novel

Explore Theme

The theme of a novel is its big idea.

It’s the meaning of your story, and the interpretation you’re hoping to communicate.

A few popular themes in literature:

The circle of life

Empowerment

Fading beauty

Love and sacrifice

Self-reliance

True love conquers all

Oftentimes, the theme of your novel can set a mood for the reader.

When you choose a story that focuses on the theme true love conquers all, your reader may feel angry, optimistic, melancholy, nostalgic, and ultimately gratified.

By focusing on the theme, you can create the right mood for your reader.

Use the Setting

Setting can set the mood.

Example: Your protagonist is lost. As darkness falls around her, she reaches...

A dilapidated mansion overtaken with weeds and ivy. It’s seemingly abandoned except for the one faint light the emanating from an upstairs window.

A well-built log cabin that’s nestled deep in the woods. Smoke billows from the chimney, and she can hear a sitcom playing in the background.

In both of the above examples, the protagonist reaches a house, but the mood is different.

You can use setting to make the reader feel a sense of foreboding.

Or the setting can suggest safety.

And depending on the journey you’d like to take the reader on, the mood you create could betray and misdirect the reader.

Choose the Right Language

The choice of words you use make a huge impact on how the reader feels about the characters and each scene.

Example: A character laughs.

You can choose a term like “cackle” or “giggle” to describe the laugh.

One (cackle) suggests a shrill, unpleasant sound.

The other (giggle) suggests an innocent, or even nervous, sound.

Your word choice directs the reader on what to feel about the character, the scene, and more.

Set the Pace

Pacing captures the energy of the scene.

Example: When you choose short, terse words and sentences, you’ll cultivate a rushed mood in your narrative.

You may choose short words to indicate a range of emotions from excitement to anger. Alternatively, if you use lyrical, long-winding sentences, you can cultivate a contemplative mood.

Wordiness will slow down the narrative and has the subtle power to make the reader feel hopeless, trapped, or completely immersed.

Source ⚜ Writing Notes & References Writing References: Worldbuilding ⚜ Plot ⚜ Character

[alcqraz]

★ summary — after yet another tough loss in the australian open, y/n finds solace within her boyfriend. ˖˙ ꔫ —★★★★ pairing: carlos alcaraz x fem!reader ˖˙ ꔫ —★★★ content warnings. n/a. carlos being a cutie patootie? ˖˙ ꔫ —★★ word count. 3.2k ˖˙ ꔫ —★ genre. fluff. it's carlos. what do you expect? ★ authors note: for the girls! i really need to write some x male!reader for myself... ben drabble coming next and then we go from there. also ugh, he's so cute i love him so much. after 6 decades, 4 redbulls and 25 million complaints, you shalt recieve whatever the hell this monstrosity is... i apologize, this is terrible. ⠀⠀⠀❛⠀⠀ @yungbludz ; @csainzcalcaraz ; idk who else to tag.

Bitterness was an odd sort of sensation. It wrapped around the heart within a warp of seamless, thick fog- the cold tendrils seeping into the crevices of positivity that she deemed to find after such a loss. It whispered to Y/N in moments where she stood in front of the media, rumbling off a number of responses given by her public relations manager. One for which she believed to have almost no effect upon her relationship with the public. It lingered, like some sort of lurking shadow amongst the thoughts that crowded her back of mind as the reality delved deep into her bones. As the media had swooped down as vultures and ripped her performance apart with each piece of mindless critique that, most of the time, could be said to have been terribly wrong.

She’d known the drill. Exchanging hands with the devil within every turn that crossed her path, with every early round exit that haunted her presence as she packed up to head towards the next tournament. One which would lead to the abiding taste of victory or once again; bitterness. It followed her every step, with every ground stroke, with every serve missed. It was only when the umpire would shout out the words- game, set match; followed by a name that was not hers, would she realize. It settled in slowly; similar to the dust that set on the shelves after being unused for far too long, and eventually did she finally feel the truth of it all. 

Australia seemed to disdain her existence as a whole. Y/N had decidedly chosen to believe so after a handful of upsets. Within the premises of a place far too beautiful to be spiteful, does she drown within her sorrows of the match. The Australian Open always rubbed like salt within her wounds, lost matches after lost matches, and she wondered to herself what she could possibly be doing wrong with her career. It was not as if it were common. Undoubtedly, Y/N would lose; just as the greatest to ever have played the game had done so before, but within the years that passed by, it only tended to happen with a good run. Perhaps losing upon the semi-finals or the finals could be regarded as a wider received upset, however the expectation that crawled upon her skin with every waking moment only pressured her further to go for a deeper run.

And yet, as the sun dipped lower upon the evening-lit sky, it sank deep within the horizon as such a carefully crafted and cared for gold coin slipping into the darkened waves of the ocean. Casting hues of colors that in any other situation, Y/N would find extraordinary. What was not to appreciate a good sunset for? But it was not the stunning beauty of the sunset that plastered her thoughts, and to her utter surprise and relief, was also not the stalling weight of the loss. Instead, her mind subconsciously drifted to the Spaniard that she knew would be waiting upon her arrival. 

Carlos was never one short of a support system for Y/N. In a sort of way, she wonders faintly what she would do without his constant encouragement and advocacy. Who would be there for her after such a loss? Who would be the one to woefully wrap their arms around her as she doubted her ability, the one who would whisper sweet nothings into her ears until she truly believed it? Y/N knew that she couldn’t escape it again this time, despite the need to potentially be alone for multiple hours before truly being in a mindset to talk to others without resulting in a bout of tension due to snappy answers. 

She knew that he would’ve watched the match. Sitting atop his hotel room bed in which she had fallen asleep in for many days beforehand, never daring to book a shared room due to the fear of being caught by, not his team, but others. News outlets, reporters- those who would do nothing less than to dwell low for an eye-catching title. Sprawled across the sheets, she could imagine him, his mouth pursed into a tight line; not at the loss, but at the disappointed glances the camera would’ve caught with ease. He never cared for her results, not in that sense, but in the sense of that he would not judge her for an early round exit such as today. The only thing that mattered to him would’ve been what she had felt- frustration, agitated, disappointed, seemed to all be on the table on this fateful night.

And in a certain light, she looked forward to those tender moments. The feeling of a ripple of being loved and appreciated within an ocean of critical and in times, cruel comments that had been made of her. For her tennis, her looks, her image; there always appeared to be something to grumble about albeit it be for the tiniest, most inconspicuous things. Carlos always shook his head, his head of grown hair shaking in such a way that was endearing to Y/N. He’d reach over, gently plucking the phone from his hands although unable to hide his pique of interest in what his girlfriend so… encapsulated. He’d learnt quickly that it was never good in instances as such. 

There would be some form of tension as the Spaniard would look up, an odd frown stretching across his face. It never fit him right- frowning, it just didn’t feel right, like a human in an animal enclosure. Unbelonging. Conceivably, it was because she was used to his bright, joyous and up-lifting grin, that goofy smile that could assault a ray of light upon the darkest of days. Seeing the opposite of it was unfathomable. There would be a mumble of words, half mixed with Spanish as he would set the phone down, an arm slowly easing up to provide a source of comfort. 

Arguably, the drive back to the exquisite hotel in which she had been assigned could be determined to be the longest and shortest drive she’d ever experienced. The driver made no attempt to start a conversation in any variation, instead decidedly for the better, kept his mouth tightly shut. Y/N had assumed that one not so nice glance, which- for the record, she did not mean to give, shut him up real quick as from a viewpoint, he looked fairly friendly. Like the sort of person to make small talk with strangers without making either party feel vastly uncomfortable. She’d never gotten out of a place faster in her life. Mumbling out a soft thank you, because if honesty was policy, it was the least she could do after such a drive.

She was thankful that at least the hotel had a welcoming atmosphere, the constant chatter of guests that could care less of her arrival. Or even better, did not recognize her for who she was. Her team had followed back within another car, not that Y/N had requested so, but it felt more of a moral perception. They knew what to leave things at, and she could come to appreciate having a group of people that understood. Within the dynamic lighting in the building, she could vaguely make out one of the tournament cars pulling into the entrance. 

Hauling the bag that slung across a singular shoulder, and quietly adjusting the hanging strap, Y/N stumbles her way back towards her room. The hallway stood eerily silent, the usual foreigner- or group of foreigners had either disappeared into the night, taken an early exit, or drunk on a dance floor. The latter, she had assumed. Notionally, it would’ve been far better than having to be questioned by the eyes of another guest, making polite small-talk as the elevator shuddered and picked up its pace. They’d wish her luck, not knowing the slaughter that had happened on court not even hours before. 

A part of Y/N wants to immediately head over to Carlos’s room. To drop everything and melt within his strong arms, to go home. But she knew better than to show up at his front door, sweaty, pissed off and with an arm load of bags. And so she resisted, grumbling a number of curses as she punched in the floor that her suite had been on, waiting as the elevator whirred to its heart's content. It feels far too long, the walk back grudging and slow, with every drag of her foot feeling as she were walking through puddles of wet concrete. Perhaps it was the exhaustion after a match dwelling down, or perhaps it’s the mental aspect of everything- Y/N never could truly pinpoint this feeling, despite the half-hearted attempts at understanding.

Her bags are carelessly strewn across the floor, allowing her jacket to fall upon one of the unused chairs of her suite. The room is big; far too big for a single person living in it, and whilst Y/N had admired the spaciousness of the area when she had first arrived, now it had felt more despondent than ever. Even showering felt enervating, too hot for a minute, then too cold for another, and she wonders how such an expansive hotel could reserve for a lavish waterfall in its lobby, yet not have enough for a capable showerhead. She had to admit though, she’d felt better after such a shower, muscles relaxing and the stench being wafted away within a moment's notice. It feels as if she’d done it a million times, coming back after a match, trying to take a relaxing shower before she was to be grilled by her coach for the next. It felt more of a simulation, as if things were repeating itself over and over again, like a clock resetting after every twelve hours. The only time that would differ would be around Carlos, the Spaniard making time feel irrelevant to the universe, until it was only them that mattered. Nothing else, nothing more.

It’s always for that reason she found herself back in this position, new comfortable clothing that hung loosely around her shoulders, hair up for it to dry faster. There would be no makeup involved, she’d known Carlos for long enough that she knew he could not care for what she looked like in these moments. Instead, worrying about further issues. It’s almost embarrassing how many times she found solace within him, as he would finally open that god damn door to his hotel room, that stupid smile that could light up the entire town, the way he never seemed less excited to see Y/N no matter how many times he’d actually seen her. He was so… how could he be so… she never grasped at how or why, never could comprehend. It never changed. 

“Y/N?”

Carlos peers curiously, eyes glinting with a sort of inquisitiveness no one else could replicate. That look, the one that Y/N could never get used to, one that shone like the moon upon a dim evening sky. “Estas bien?”His words cut through the uttered silence, his head cocking to the side like a mackerel. For a moment, she profoundly forgot where she was, taking more than just a second to process the Spaniard’s words.

Her eyelids flutter, open and shut, shut then open, as if trying to clear a haze that had clouded her vision. Deliberately, she let her head sway from one side to another, strands of hair falling from the elastic that held her hair together. “Oh, uh-” She stumbles over her words, as if she were suddenly at a loss, a lump forming cautiously within the midsts of her throat. “Yes, yeah- I’m fine, estoy bien.” The words feel jumbled as it comes out of her mouth, as if she hadn’t spoken in many years before advancing her way towards Carlos.

He looks around, protruding his head from the frame of the wooden door, as if he were searching for something, or perchance, it was looking out for her. When he had decidedly chosen that the coast could be deemed as clear, Carlos gently ushers Y/N in, a hand swiping behind her back and brushing her into the room. It’s far messier than her room, as well, Carlos was Carlos and old habits die hard, but it feels much more of a humble abode. The smell of Carlos wafts airly within the room, like a warm, familiar embrace, dancing lightly throughout the suite. It wraps around like a fuzzy blanket, easing the tension that spooked through her veins, allowing her to sink into a contraption of intimacy. 

Carlos’s mouth opens, as if he were to say something, but he hesitates wearily. Y/N is sure that it’s because he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing, that would rub her in the wrong way. The thought stings a little, knowing that Carlos felt as if he couldn’t say what he truly thought to her without the fear of retaliation. “No estuvo mal.” He says the words slowly, dragging across his tongue, syllable by syllable. “Te veías bien.”

There’s a hint of truth that comes with his words, Carlos didn’t enjoy lying, especially to her, Y/N quickly realized soon into their relationship. He knew of the pain of hearing those around him lying of how he played- good or bad. He discerned, to only speak of the truth. Yet he also, deep down, fathomed that she would not believe what he said despite the sincerity. Knew that it was a battle already lost, and there was not much he could do about it other than whisper caring endearments until the discomfort of the loss passed. 

“It didn’t feel good.” She responds, not quite a snap back to Carlos, but more of a defense mechanism to protect herself. 

“Losing does not feel good ever, yes?” His words are coated with an accent, one that she found more endearing than anything else. The attempt was enough to fill a crack of her heart with warmth, and it only grows further as Carlos takes a couple steps in to enfold his arms around Y/N, in a well meant attempt to shield her from any negative critiques or thoughts. “Pero eso no significa que no fuera bueno, ¿verdad?”

She knew what was to come. Knew the little spiel of words he had crafted carefully within his mind. He would remind her of the positives. Of how it could do more good than bad, and that it was just a single tournament in an ocean of others. She would come back, win the next title, and all would be forgotten as the media turned back to the bouts of adoration for her antics and play style. 

Carlos sighs, shaking his head in such a manner of disappointment. “Ven aqui.” He mumbles softly, his words barely breaking the silence that touched the room. He takes a few purposeful steps toward the bed, tugging her alongside him. His touch lingers, a gentle pressure that presses Y/N against the comfortable mattress in a way that feels tender and intimate, exuding a warmth and familiarity that only Carlos could convey to her. It’s a moment cuddled with unspoken connection, where every brush of his hand spoke volumes of the devotion he felt.

There was nothing she would want more, nothing that could comfort her in such a way that it made the whole world feel at peace. He could make her forget in a number of ways, but this- his body pressed up against hers, breath hot against her skin as he tangled them into a spooning position. It feels as if heaven were on Earth, the sensations greater than whatever pleasure tennis could bring to her. “Todo va a estar bien, si?” Carlos whispers, carrying not only a sense of warmth but tinged with secrecy as well. A sacred space that only withled the two of them, with no allowed space for others. A fleeting moment, that has Y/N’s heart thumping within her body.

“Maybe if you’re always here after I lose in straight sets.” 

Her response isn’t biting, it’s not bitter as she would’ve expected it to be. Perhaps it was because he found it nearly impossible to act so rudely towards Carlos. He smiles though, in an answer, his lips stretching lazily into that stupid, stupid grin. “Siempre estaré aquí para ti, amor.” Carlos says, lips just tracing over the lobes of her ears, and for a moment, Y/N shuddered at the touch- so intimate and close, so indescribable. His fingers lay on her delicate skin, one that had been soaked upon sweat just hours ago, and it feels as if the area had been set on fire. His touch warm and fascinating, his lips soft and ginger as he slowly bestows a kiss on her own. 

It’s a feeling Y/N would never be able to shake off no matter how many times it happened. The elusive tingle that tinged up her spine, then throughout her bones, every nerve as if it had been lit on fire. The way his hands slowly caresses her face, not intruding and not pushing for anything further, just to have her in such a way that only the luckiest woman in the world could imagine to have. And when he pulls away, it leaves Y/N yearning for more, eyes trying to convey a message of need and desire. But Carlos is quick to shake his head, and although dismay aligns across his features, he’s firm about it. 

“Descansa un poco” He murmurs, turning so that Y/N would lay on the mattress in a manner that he knew she’d prefer to anything else. Likewise, she was tired. In spite of everything- the match, the weight of the loss, the media that gawked, their smirks playing along their faces as she spoke, every word a better headline for them, in a fashion of twisting her own words and using them to stab her against the back. It was, perhaps, the worst part of tennis, one that Y/N wished she could evaporate with a snap of her fingers. But she could not, she did not have the power to do so, and it was not as if it would be of any use if she had tried. 

With a defiant huff of a breath, she tried to ease the restlessness that lodged between her bones, letting her eyes fall shut, easing into an acquainted darkness. With the pressure of Carlos around her, the soft breathing that snuck in and out, sweeping across her right ear, Y/N mitigates into a calming state of bliss. One in which she only found moments like these, where she did not have to shine as a radiant poster boy, where she could finally just let herself be. And during that interval where she felt not quite asleep, yet not awake either, she smiles to herself, knowing that for one, she could rest easy for the time being. That she was safe, within the consolation of home. 

[stonegearstudios]

A Spear Brings Sorrow

To kill a Unicorn is a tragedy.

To murder one and construct a weapon from its remains is a sin against the world.

Hey all, so I'm releasing my first ttrpg micro supplement. It's part of a ongoing project I'm doing to train myself to actually finish things.

I'm pretty happy with the results, not only do I have this fantastic art from @regal-bones but I've made up statblocks for three common fantasy systems, and a backstory to help you insert the spear and its wielder into your game.

You can get it here: https://mb11.itch.io/a-spear-brings-sorrow

I'm really terrible at promotion so any sharing is quite appreciated, as well as constructive critique.

[jonsaslove]

This will be my one and only discoursing post about house of the dragon’s finale.

So many people are saying that Alicent’s character is being ruined (and to a lesser extent Rhaenyra’s) both with the earlier sept scene and now the finale scene.

I can agree that the writing is a bit clunky or even that the premise of these meetups is unrealistic, sure. However, most people are mad that Alicent is not raging with fury over the death of Jaehaerys, that Rhaenyra isn’t holding Lucerys’ death over her head, that Alicent is willing to give up Aegon and Aemond in exchange for her own life and Helaena’s. And in principle I get it, I really do.

But! I do not think that these choices equate to unequivocal bad writing. They are simply different from the choices that many people wanted the writers to make, they wanted Alicent and Rhaenyra to be allowed to be angry and righteous and vengeful instead of sorrowful and mournful and full of regret. There is a whole conversation to be had about this in terms of how women and men are written differently and how it may feel like Rhaenyra and Alicent’s motivations and feelings are being feminized as to be more palatable. Again, sure, I see that and I understand that critique, and agree with it. But do I think it isn’t realistic that Rhaenyra and Alicent’s shared past gives them some form of lingering endearment to one another, that they may hesitate to want the other dead even as these atrocities occur? No, I think that it’s pretty reasonable. Alicent did not strike down Lucerys on dragonback, Rhaenyra did not swing the steel to take Jaehaerys’ head. Which even if Alicent believes Rhaenyra ordered it, was retaliation for Luke’s death not expected, even dreaded? They are at war and still they are allowed to feel multiple feelings at once. They are allowed to be feel agony and then when face to face with the other feel hesitation on what violence and war actually mean, the consequences of those righteous feelings.

What it boils down to is that people are not realizing that the story the writers are telling is different than the one they envisioned in their heads, there is more of an internal look at these characters as humans with complexity as opposed to the caricatures we get in Fire & Blood (an in universe historical text that glosses over many intricacies of the Dance with countless potential for bias…but I digress). You can dislike the decisions being made, you can critique them, you can think some of the writing is bad too (there are parts I haven’t been thrilled about either), but blaming everything on “bad writing” feels like a cop out at this point so that you can refuse to engage with the text where it’s at and not what you thought it would be.

Rhaenyra and Alicent’s connection is a core tenet of the show, however you interpret that, and if you think that is going to be ‘fixed’ next season because there won’t be a writer’s strike or whatever other reason you cling to, you are deluding yourself. I enjoy a multitude of aspects of the show, many of the ships and their dynamics and I think by refusing to acknowledge that their relationship is at the very least central to the story (and accept the way the writer’s are choosing to write that relationship!) you will set yourself up for disappointment.

[d4yd4iry]

Sweet Memories

Pairings: Kim Minji x fem!reader

Synopsis: When life gets too hard, you go down memory lane.

Genre: Fluff…?

Minji knew that she shouldn’t be overworking herself, but how could she not when there are thousands of people ready to critique her imperfections.

It didn’t help that she let them get to her head, making her focus too much on perfecting her moves rather than enjoying herself.

But no matter how perfect something is, people will always try to find flaws. That’s just human, but that doesn’t mean that it’s okay.

Due to the growing popularity of NewJeans, the group gained many fans but with fans, comes a bunch of jobless haters. Just a bunch of snakes, waiting for a victim to spit their venom at.

It so happened that Minji became one of their many targets. Endless of cruel words being said about her, words that are not true, words that have been exaggerated to fit the narrative that they view her as.

You would know, being in the same situation as her and as well as being her supporting pillar since your trainee days. You were one of the very few kind hearted people left, a pure soul who genuinely find beauty in everything.

These past few months have been stressful for the girls, but especially for Minji who’s the oldest of the 6. Because being the oldest means that she’ll always get more criticism from the public, even if she’s not the official leader.

You have seen how bad it gets on her bad days, she wouldn’t talk much, and keeps to herself a lot. And it hurts to see because your girlfriend have been hurting and you can’t do anything to stop the source of her sorrows.

“Minji, talk to me.”

Minji have been keeping to herself for way too long, she was like a ticking bomb just waiting to explode at any moment. Everyone was worried about her, especially you.

“Please, I don’t want to talk about it.” Minji whispered as she laid on your shared bed covering herself with a blanket, with her back facing you.

You bit your lips, genuinely frustrated that you weren’t able to make her feel better. “Min, I know how hard it is for you to talk about your feelings…just know that I’m here to listen, just like what you did for me.”

She wasn’t responding but you knew that she was listening. You took a deep breathe before continuing. “Remember that night? February, 5th, 2019”

You were a trainee long before she joined the company, being one of the best trainee in the whole company.

You were all of the teacher’s favorite and was very popular amongst the trainees and staffs as well.

Minji first thought that a fellow trainee was exaggerating when they said that you were like an angel sent to earth, but soon after she met you, she could understand fully why people admired you so much.

You’re the most beautiful person she have ever met, both beautiful in and out. Many people have said that perfection doesn’t exist, but clearly they’ve never met you.

You would always be surrounded by trainees who were desperate to share a conversation with you, even a glance would make them fall on their knees.

You were very well spoken and your voice was angelic, people couldn’t help but shut themselves up whenever you talk.

But they’re also the same people who make up their own version of you. Never really intrigued enough to want to know you, the real you, and for the longest time, Minji was one of those people too.

All until one night, the night that changed everything.

[February, 5th, 2019]

It was late at night, almost everyone was out of the company by then and Minji was preparing to go too, having practiced for 8 hours straight, she was dying to enjoy the warmth of her bed.

Humming to herself as she strolled down the dark halls, chills suddenly went down her spine, the company was undeniably creepy during those times. Minji was praying that the rumored company ghost wouldn’t appear in front of her.

As she was about halfway to the elevator, sounds of someone crying reached her ears. Minji eyes went wide, heart pounding as she stopped her steps.

No this will not be how I did she thought

Minji really wanted to sprint to the elevator, maybe even jump down the flight of stairs, all to get away from the crying sound that she was sure that it’s the ghost

But her body was betraying her, her feet moving towards the room and before she could comprehend what had happened, her hands were already pushing the door to get into the room.

Minji felt her breath hitched as her eyes wandered onto the girl whose face was covered by the palm of her hands, but also feeling relieved that it wasn’t a ghost.

It was you, she could recognize you from a mile away. Probably because she spends too much time looking at your figure from afar whenever you guys are in the same room.

She felt a magnetic force pulling her towards you. Minji kneeled down and put her hands on your shoulders, you were startled at first but then your eyes soften when you realized that it was only her.

She felt her heart stop beating for a moment as she scanned your face, gosh you still looked gorgeous even while crying.

“Yn, are you okay?” To say that Minji was concerned would be an understatement, she herself doesn’t even know why her heart ached at how sad you looked.

“I wish I could say that I am, but that would be untruthful.” Your eyes were watery, an overwhelming amount of worries wandered your mind.

Minji eyes soften even more if that’s even possible, she softly caressed your hand. “I know we’re not close, and we don’t talk much either but you can talk to me.”

You took a deep breathe, you don’t know why but after looking into her genuine eyes, you felt like you could tell her anything and everything.

“It’s just that everything and everyone have been so overwhelming, the teachers they are always expecting the best out of me and are always putting so much pressure, I mean I thrive in pressure but it’s always way too much whenever they bragged and compared me to other trainees, and the other trainees…they talk. I don’t understand why I care so much about what they discussed about me, but I do. I don’t think they know that I heard what they’ve been saying about me either…”

“What have they been saying about you?”

“They talk behind my back, saying that I’m a show off, that I’m doing too much, desperate for attention, they call me names, they mock me…but the thing that I don’t understand is how could they be so different when they’re in front of me, they act as if we are friends, almost had me fooled…sorry for ranting to you, I just needed to get this out of my chest and thank you for listening it means a lot.”

All of the things you’ve said surprised her, for the longest time she thought that everyone loved you. How could she not when on the surface they would do anything to try to impress you, but if only she knew how two faced those people are.

Minji wished that she could beat the crap out of whoever talked bad about you, it disgusted her that even for an angel like you, they would still be able to make up shit to talk about.

She still couldn’t understand why would they think that way about someone like you, a person who never talked back to anyone, always too kind that may be deemed as a pushover, soft spoken, you were just too perfect for them and it makes you a threat.

“People are cruel and we can’t do anything about that, but you did not deserve to receive their cruelty.” Minji softly muttered as she used her palm to lift your face up, her eyes stuck onto yours.

“Yn, you are genuinely the kindest person I’ve known and I do not understand why people think it’s a good reason to step on you for that. But take my word when I say that you’ll be far more successful than them, they can stay mad, jealous, and miserable. But you are a star, you shine wherever you go, even in the darkest room, you’ll be able to shine. So cheer up, I miss your smile!”

For the first time in very long time, you finally felt genuinely happy, a smile slowly making way onto your face. “Aha! Come on get up, let’s go do something fun!” Minji felt proud of herself as she got you to get up with a smile on your face, slowly forgetting your sadness.

“What is something you do when you want to feel like yourself again?”

“Hmm?” You pondered for a moment before a bigger smile appeared on your face. “I have something, come on I’ll show you!” Your voice and face were filled with excitement as you dragged the older girl with you.

The two of you laughed along the way, about nothing in particular, it was just the right mood to laugh.

“Ta-dah!”

“This is yours?!” Her jaw dropped as you both were standing in front of your precious motorcycle.

“Yeah, it used to be my dad’s but he doesn’t ride it anymore.” You informed before looking at Minji with a smirk on your face. “Surprised?”

“Yeah, I mean you don’t look like someone who ride motorcycles.”

“What does motorcycle riders look like exactly?” You looked at her with a teasing smile and then laughed once she couldn’t find the words to explain.

“Sorry that was stupid, I mean you look soft and well people who ride motorcycles at least in movies, are usually-“ As she was about to finish her sentence, you interrupted with a big and goofy grin. “Big and scary?”

“Yes! Gosh that is such a stereotype, maybe I should stop watching so much movies.” Minji laughed at herself.

“No, I get it. A lot of them are, my dad is one of them, he’s big and kinda scary. Anyways, wanna go for a ride?”

“It would be stupid to decline such offer!” Minji grinned as she hopped on the vehicle.

The two of you rode into the darkness of the night, worries fade away and replaced with laughters and unforgettable memories.

That was the night that changed everything.

[Present Time]

You forever felt grateful to Minji who listened to your ranting that night, if she weren’t there you would’ve given up your long life dreams.

“I was so upset that night but somehow you managed to cheer me up.”

“I don’t know if you remembered the things you’ve said but I will forever remember. Take my word when I say that you’ll be far more successful than them, they can stay mad, jealous, and miserable. But you are a star, you shine wherever you go, even in the darkest room, you’ll be able to shine.” You smiled as you recited her exact words before looking back at Minji who was still silent.

“I’ve never told you this but…if it weren’t for you that night, I would’ve left my dreams behind and never look back. You’re the most important person in my li-“ You were startled by the sudden hug you received, but soon melted into her embrace, caressing for back once you heard a sob.

“I-I am really sorry” she cried into your neck. “I know you are, but you shouldn’t be sorry.” You replied softly.

“No I should be sorry, sorry for not talking to you, for being distant, really sorry for being a bad girlfriend.”

“Hey! Don’t say that, you’re the best girlfriend and I’ll never find someone else like you.” You cupped her face with your hands and leaned in, softly placing a kiss on her forehead.

“You better not.” She frowned as she point a finger in front of your face threateningly, but you found it cute. “And I do remember that night, and everything about that night. How could I forget when it’s the reason why you’re mine.”

You gave her a teasing grin. “I’m yours?” She nodded and intertwined her hands with yours. “Mine.” Before leaning into your lips for a sweet kiss.

[thelindenpapers]

I am an atheist. I am angry and bitter.

But I am not angry and bitter "because I'm an atheist".

I am angry and bitter, because I WAS a christian, and because what was done to me during that time by my abusers and my community has had awful and far-reaching consequences that I am unable to undo.

I'm much happier in other ways.

I no longer have to hate myself, and hate humanity in general, on behalf of an immoral god who displays all the markers of an abuser; for whom I'm compelled to try to do mental gymnastics in order to explain or defend them in the face of perfectly reasonable critiques.

I don't have to walk around with the CONSTANT anxiousness that that capricious and "unknowable" god inspired.

I no longer have to fear hell.

I can accept myself as a full person now; instead of demonizing my libido levels, my femininity, my curiosity, or even my creativity: assuming that being a woman should be a curse, and that a woman with a high libido is somehow a disgrace, and that people who think (and who question!) outside of the box are somehow dangerous or defective when they are neither lying, nor causing any harm.

I don't have to be afraid to Love myself -- whether literally or figuratively.

I certainly don't have to LOATHE myself on behalf of my "betters".

I defend myself far better, now that I don't believe that I'm supposed to be some insensate piece of property that fathers and husbands get to trade between themselves, expressly for them to use, control, and torture.

I am even able to scrape together moments of joy and purpose, as well as hope for a better future for humanity -- even if a better future has been denied me, personally, as an individual, via the disabling neglect and suppression of opportunities of my "husband"; and, before him, the purposeful isolation and suppression of opportunities by my father.

Being miserable is a given, considering what I have gone through. Anger is a perfectly reasonable response to their lies, cruelty, mistreatment, and dismantling behaviors.

But atheism has only bought to me a light and a clarity that exists DESPITE the miseries I've been saddled with, and it provides tools that aid my struggle to overcome in whatever ways that I still can.

Atheism is fine. Atheism is a joy.

It is RELIGION that has caused my sorrow.