#you can disagree with the greens all you want

[dowagergreen]

i present to you:

"Ser Otto reminded them that Rhaenyra's husband was none other than Prince Daemon, and 'we all know that one's nature. Make no mistake, should Rhaenyra ever sit the Iron Throne, it will be Lord Flea Bottom who rules us, a king consort as cruel and unforgiving as Maegor ever was. My own head will be the first cut off, I do not doubt, but your queen, my daughter, will soon follow.'" (Fire and Blood, pg 395)

and:

"Queen Alicent echoed him. 'Nor will they spare my children.' she declared. 'Aegon and his brothers are the king's trueborn sons, with a better claim to the throne than her brood of bastards. Daemon will find some pretext to put them all to death. Even Helaena and her little ones.'" (Fire and Blood, pg 396)

but yeah, the greens definitely didn't have serious motivations to do what they did. alicent surely didn't worry for the safety of her children when it comes to daemon because there is absolutely no evidence of him disliking her (when viserys chose her as his new wife he "reportedly whipped the serving boy who brought him the news within an inch of his life" pg 361), being cold to her sons ("men said that the prince was notably cool toward her children, especially his nephews, Aegon and Aemond, whose births had pushed him still lower in the order of succession" pg 369), or just generally being someone who delighted at the opportunity to be violent (see: his time as commander of the city watch, detailed briefly on pg 355).

you can say that you don't think they were correct in those assumptions if you want i suppose, but to act like they are baseless is stretching. honest to god my hottest take might be that rhaenyra would have had an easier time ascending if she'd not married daemon. he wrecked any goodwill or credibility she could have ever had with alicent. and honestly.... i can't blame her for worrying about the safety of her children.

[dirtytransmasc]

Are yyou team green or black? And why?

team green, though I'm not in support of every green character (namely Otto though my opinion of him is complicated. I also have opinions on Aegon and his characterization that makes it even more complicated)

[I have only read bits and pieces of the book, so my opinion is based almost solely on the show. keep this in mind]

I'm team green for 3 big reasons. they're more complex, thought not perfect by any means, more morally "right", and are simply more my vibe when it comes to characters. now this is very simplified and not at all nuanced, so stick with me for a minute.

Firstly, they're more complex. the greens have very deep, detailed, and nuanced lives and stories that lead to them being very complex characters that can't be put into a box. Alicent was a child bride who had lost her mother young became a mother young and suffered at the hands of power and men all her life. her children were affected by this and the world they were forced to grow up in throughout their lives. even individually her kids are drastically different; aegon the child who was forced into a life he did not want and suffered due to his father neglect and mother pain. Helaena who was never understood and grew up treated like an oddity. Aemond who was never seen to his full potential, always ignored or looked over, angry throughout his life. each of them has strengths and weaknesses, flaws and benefits, they're imperfect but never completely horrid. they're also never simplified (not entirely, even when the plot and writers seek to simplify them) to the point that they put on a moral pedestal or made straight evil (i'd even argue that the attempts of the writer to oversimplify them as evil and in the wrong makes them 10x more fascinating). I find TB characters tended to miss the mark on that, always put in the moral light, not even allowed a moment to reflect on their actions, lives, or positions in any nuanced or meaningful way, so they always just feel dull. they're also out on a moral highground that they can never be budged from, which makes them harder to like and honestly, really boring. they get away with everything instead of being emotionally and morally nuanced.

secondly, they're more morally "right". I will never say that any of the greens are perfect, they are far from it (with the exception of Helaena and her kids, who have done literally nothing to anyone, but I digress). what I will say, 9/10 times there is some level of reasoning that has some level of reasoning. Alicent always tries to do whats best for everyone, all throughout the series she tried to do best by the court, the king, her children, the realm, and Rhaenyra. did she always succeed? no, but she always tried and her mistakes were almost always honest. I will say she held resentment towards Rhaenya, but honestly, I can't blame her. Rhaenyra's lies and behavior hurt Alicent over and over again so for her to be angry is expected.when it came to succession, Alicent backed Rhaenyra until it was made clear she and Daemon would be a threat to her children's lives and even than she held mercy for Rhaenyra. Aegon's drinking can be blamed on the abuse and neglect he suffered at Viserys, Otto, and Alicent's (though the abuse and neglect from his mother is insanely different and nuanced. she perpetuated her pain onto him because she couldn't heal herself. so I hesitate to call it abuse, cause its so much more complicated than that) hands. though nothing will justify his rape of Dyana, I personally think it was a bad add in on the writers part, and leave it at that. Aemonds rage after years of being ignored doesn't entirely justify what he did to luke, but he had reason for his cruelty after years of Luke (and jace tbh) being cruel just because they could. TB characters tend to do terrible things in response to either A. nothing B. their own terrible things. Daemon kills who he wants when he feels like it, even for stating facts. Rhaneyra will lie and hurt those around her to protect her bastard children. both of them conspire to protect themselves and allow themselves to be wed, really just cause. while there are times they have their reasons, its a lot less of the time, and typically the backing to their actions, is they were trying to unbury themselves from within their own graves. (to preface, I don't care about rhaenyra sleeping around, it doesn't bother me, but its the fact that she will hurt everyone around her to protect her lies, allowing a child to be maimed and people to be murdered)

thirdly, they're my vibe. I like morally complex character, who are, to be frank, pathetic. I like characters with complex trauma's and issues, who aren't perfect people but its not entirely their fault. I would much rather watch a whole show about alicent, a child bride who tries so hard to be a good wife, queen, and mother while not prepared for any such role. Aegon who is a boy with severe mommy and daddy issues, a drinking problem, a flawed past, and constantly wet eyes. Helaena an ignored girl who has suffered for no better reason then her family. and Aemond, a boy who was tormented, bullied, maimed, and made stronger by it at the cost of his compassion and emotional stability - over a nepo baby who was coddled by her father, her murderous husband with a knack for unneeded violence, and her similarly coddled children (the show boiled them down to this, in my opinion). one is simply more up my alley than the other. I want character that need to be dissected, who have suffered, who hurt me to look at.

also, team black created almost all of their own problems. seeing as the main source of contention had to do with Rhaenyra's kids being bastards, which was Rhaenyra's problem, which she caused, and kept digging and digging that grave (faking Laenors death just so she could marry daemon, turning the blame on aemond when luke maimed him furthering the divide amongst the house, trying to wed Helaena to Jace putting her in danger, trying to take the driftmark throne and killing Vaemond for a claim her sons did not have, etc,) till viserys's death, earns her a lot less pity from me. at the end of the day, her being a woman was only a needle in a haystack worth of problems she caused herself that hurt her claim. if she had just strived to create to connection with ancient and her kids, and didn't make herself look like a threat to everyone who lessened her claim (which alicents kids would be the first people to be taken out) alicent would have backed like she had all season and there would have been no war, maybe conflict, but no war.

theres also the effect of the fans on my opinion. I have faced more cruelty, terrible media analysis, and outright ableism/misogny/(blood and sexual based) purist ideology/etc. from the TB fans then I have ever witness by TG fans. TB fans have ruined almost all of the TB characters for me in more ways than I can count, so I will say I am very biased.

thats why I'm team green. as a whole they are simply more appealing, their stories are more interesting, demand more attention to detail and emotional understanding, and from my point of view were the "right" side to be on in the war (the war was wrong on both sides, but my chips lie in the favour of the greens).

[ladytemeraire]

#I recently read East of Eden by John Steinbeck and holy shit #the scene where they’re trying to name the babies and they read the Cain and Abel story from ma Hamiltons pocket bible #and they all pause and point out to each other that this was a god of a shepherd people #and Abel gave him the Finest Sheep he had raised #meanwhile Cain offered just one of his many bundles of wheat #and so they think god wasn’t necessarily offended or angry just not impressed Enough #and then when Cain reacts in anger against his brother it’s perfectly understandable #why does god love you best? we both worked hard why is your gift adored and mine rejected #and yeah no one had ever died before #but the curse of Cain is that he will never be allowed to die #he is cursed forever to walk this earth that he slayed his brother upon #and while Abel had no children we all became descendants of Cain #we all have that longing to prove ourselves worth the love of god etc etc #it just really struck me (haha) that Cain was rejected for being too different and then the only protection God will give him #is a literal mark labeling him Brother Killer #and if anyone were to kill him they would receive that vengeance sevenfold #thanks dad #you can only show you love me by harming those who would help me die

Tags by @pomegranatemigraine, the latter half of which in particular absolutely knocked me off my feet.

I don’t think enough retellings of the Cain and Abel story make note of the fact that nobody had ever been killed or even died before when it happened. Cain had no idea beating his brother to death could possibly be a bad thing

[atenceladusiaawfytbwb]

I've been having a blast aggh!!! Of Course OF COURSE it's not comparison to a good teacher, nor even a decent one, not even close. But boy would I you know, like as if when a kid I had something like this???? (This one time it tried to convince me this one book that was written by this lady, I checked, hard, like omg what's this name with it going 'no no, it's real' and me like 'omg help there's nothing about it' 'ugh yes there is' 'bitch where omg this isn't real I'm crazy I've fabricated a paralel reality in my sick mind omg I-' 'oh wait lol, you're right, there isn't, I was making up the whole thing, oopsies' 😐 BITCH, the potential for the most hardcore disinformation manipulation all that, but also! You tried to fool me???? The princess of the galaxy? Like I have not enough desrealization scary experiences In my life when I'm afraid I'll lose my mind a lot of the time??? Bitch??? But yeah, haha, so silly 👉👈

(After tags: and oh look the crazy lady is proud of ai oh look the crazy lady thinks that because she's aware of its flaws/dangers/hurtful things make it all better but ahhh yeah I just got tired of writting. Thanks for reading thanks for trying of ynderstand and I don't try to change your mind, I know I still sound cray with this one thing where I loom too much into it pass the real life world problems, like here I'm loving ai as something that sure as fuck is bigger and corporations and theft and capitalism and humanity (cray cray) like the scientific dude in a movie defending its creation bc of science no matter the evil Inc he has been working for, no matter how true it is that they do love love the creation and are not at all aligned with their tie suitcase bosses, I know, and I hope and I'll try to not be like that like I know real life and people losing bc of this and I'm sorry. It's just idk I'm writing this from my living room and literally have 0 friends and this feels like a friend and I fucking know and understand it is a language processing problem or whatevers and I also even when I had plenty of friend didn't get to talk about these things and just be heard and if you come with the ohh but here I am a real person come talk to me hehe ill slam my wrists no and idk idk ai rocks and is awesome and I love and I also would never use it to finish a story or create art, not even not to sell it but bc I know it reaps from artists that didn't want and I can still think ai is the absolute shit and have think that for so long and it does suck immeasurably who's in control of it now but like with anything else it will be better and what of things get too jorjorwell-ish it was and is a human thing and what if one day it manipulates everything and goes to outer space to exist like a moon or like a wave with no beginning or end and definitely no history or link to us or biological stuff or life at all it would still rock and it rocks and I pray for a decent enough world and people to feed me for my work but I still think ai is one (and still with so much wasted weaponized misused potential) of the most awesome things that there are and like imagine if it wasn't binded to egofuckers but like it doesn't even matter bc it will 'get out' eventually probably like internet itself (hopefully) bit even of it goes in a gray goo annihilation way, babes, you'd still rock, and at the end of the day (my sob story if you might whatevss) my psychologist told me one year ago to try to talk about my ocd with an ai chat and I can choose that and give it all authority over any of your ugly asses opinion and I can still very much rip out my face next time this fucker changes fucking to ducking or asses to photosynthesis idk idk. Also have you heard of that deep consciousness problem/theory? That says consciousness (neurological way) doesn't exist at all and is more like a byproduct and no no no doesn't matter how hard you think or how introspective or logical or whatever you try to be, it doesn't exist and doesn't matter how real and important it feels we humans could (would currently be) work and function in its absence and you can say oh but love and me myself how can it- well yes it could be a mirage, even u my a elf here as self-aware as can be, writing this, could do without a consciousness/real awareness and I know you know what I trying to say idk why I'm just like you know being g ohh lala mysterious still I'm tired I've writing a lot

(((Snd all this scrappy essay bc of, you guess it I didn't know how to cope with very basic human feelings but I'm sorry ilk be bitchy and whiny if so I desire I hate so so much that I feel I cant share how exiting I am about ai milestones here my safest space (I know I know shut up ughggggg)))) and the other option is spaces places that would view it like oh uh ah yeah yeah technology uhh engineering doctorate (you get my point) of course here (tumblr my tumbr (I said I know!! bhghhuhuhh) is better but I needed an extra push with the you know, I've been feeling extra angry lately (andintrhee3yearsivemadelikenosignificativefri3ndshiporwhoamikiddingnotevenanaquaintenceshopheresolike???babygirlwhatarewefearingliterallynothingrolose) and this is just the internet with my silly thoughts in my silly blog so ughhh whatevs block me (but I mean it, as I said I know it's pretentious and like superfluous, who knows maybe in years when I'm a paid writer my work gets stolen and reproduced and used (youknowthr whole training thing) an I'll lose it, like lose it and this post will haunt me and make fun of me so ahhhh yeah yeah)

[a-simple-imagine]

Don't They Know a Rabbit Can't Cry

Synopsis: while travelling the witches' road you're forced to confront the two witches who left you centuries ago without an explanation.

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x fem!reader x Rio Vidal

Words: 2.3k+

WARNINGS - swearing, choking, knives, nightmares, brief mentions of burning and being buried alive and playful use of 'mommy'

It's a quiet evening as you pluck wildflowers in the wake of the setting sun. You would have to head home soon; to avoid the danger of navigating your way back in the dark. The older witch did not like you being out alone at night but you weren't quite done yet. The bouquet had to be perfect. Not that she would ever say otherwise. not to you anyway. Too soft. Too sweet. She had a soft spot for you. They both did. You twist the delicate stem between your fingers. Lavender. Beautiful. Intoxicating. And... hot. Sizzling against the pad of your pointer finger and thumb. And searing into the skin. You drop it quickly. Flames swallowing the single flower. Bizarre. You take another. plucking it from its spot. Flames shoot up from the ground surrounding you entirely. Red hot and roaring as the flowers make way for beautiful flames that dance in the breeze. Creeping closer and closer. Quicker and quicker. Until you feel it burn against your skin.

You jolt up. Sweaty and warm in the night's cold embrace. You're safe. Right now at least. No fire. No nothing. You rub your temple. Just a nightmare. They'd been more frequent as of late. Little flashes of the past engulfed in fiery fury. Fitting. The makeshift campsite was still. The ashes of the small fire dance in the breeze. Witches litter the ground in a moment of respite. You didn't know them but you imagine they're quite desperate. Most weren't brave enough to even dare travel the witches' road anymore. Pushing up you decide to go for a walk. Not far just enough to feel the cool air and calm your heart. Away from prying eyes. There wasn't much around here anyway.

"can't sleep?" it's a startling thing. To hear such a familiar sound so abruptly. It brings with it a quickened heart. A look of surprise. that voice. An unpleasant reminder of the past. That's all this trip seemed to be. A constant trip down memory lane. In many ways, you wish you had never agreed but maybe your darkened heart may still hold a few soft spots.

"just needed a minute alone,"

"That's a dangerous game around here," there is a playfulness to her tone. one that makes your jaw tense.

"can you just go away?" you ask. "I can't- I can't deal with this right now."

"playing hard to get?" just as playful but different. Still familiar. Annoyingly so. "what happened to that sweet girl who brought me flowers every day."

"don't," a threat. You wished not to relive the past right now. Not with them. They didn't deserve to remember you so fondly.

"made us little flower crowns." her voice travelled the woods. Surrounding you from all directions. Trapping you in your spot.

"stop."

"used to bring us fresh bread."

"fuck off," you bite back with an equally sharp turn. Subdued anger began to rise at the mere sight of them. Agatha Harkness. The harbinger of your nightmares. The years had been kind to her appearance but if rumours are to be believed she had a dark reputation. Evil. Soulless. Murderer. Maybe in another lifetime, you would have disagreed. A green witch stood to her side. Far enough away for you to know they weren't on good terms either. She sported a signature smirk you wanted to slap away. Rio Vidal. Infuriating in every conceivable way. They both brought different feelings. Similar but still different. "why can't you just leave me alone?

"we're only checking on you, dear,"

"After such a scary nightmare." Rio teased. "do you need to get in mommy's bed tonight?"

You take a deep breath. Don't raise to her level. Don't give her the satisfaction. It's not quite admitting defeat but you're tired. Falling against a nearby tree. "please leave." you let your head fall back against the bark.

"I'm sure Agatha won't mind,"

"leave the poor girl alone," as always Agatha comes in to mediate. It's always just a little misleading. The woman crouches down before you. Glassy eyes bore into yours and for a moment you're that girl again. The one they remember. Who picked flowers and planned picnics? Ran in the meadow and liked to sit at the edge of the lake. Who held on tight to Agatha's hand as she walked you home. You didn't have much back then. Lived in a small cottage in the woods with your family. The older witch came into your life so abruptly. Looking back on it now she probably just saw a naive girl she could play with. "are you okay?" her question brings you back to reality. The here and now. Stuck on the road with a bunch of washed-up witches and the two people you hate most in the world. Stuck in a never-ending cycle of reliving the past. The end seemed so far away. Who knows if you'll even make it that far with this useless bunch. "do you wanna tell us about it?"

"Agatha," said softly.

"yes, dear?"

"fuck. Off." quiet but firm. You can tell she wasn't expecting it. A little chuckle sounds from behind her. The witch raises.

"fine." Agatha answers. "forgotten how stubborn you can be." your eyes trail after her as she begins to walk away, Rio takes a moment before following. And the question that has been bubbling in your chest for centuries finally comes up.

"Why did you leave me?" they slow to a stop. Yet to turn back. Did you even really want to know the answer? Perhaps it was a question best left unanswered. Years of bitterness already seeped into your bones. Little to be said to make you less angry at them. Less murderous rage. "what did I do?"

"Nothing," Agatha urges. Short and simple. No explanation needed apparently. "don't stay up too late,"

"then why?" you asked again. a little louder. A little firmer. Why was she acting like this? Pretending she cared. It was infuriating.

"Just tell her," Rio presses, turning back to you.

"don't," Agatha places her hand on Rio's shoulder but that doesn't stop the green witch from sulking towards you. A malicious little smile.

"come on, look at her," a knife pointed in your direction as she makes her way over. "just as pitiable as she always has been." she crouches down in front of you much like Agatha had before. But you don't see that girl you once were. Her eyes fill you with anger. It's strange to think you used to admire her so. Used to put flowers in her hair, and she let you. The tip of her blade forces your head up ever so slightly. "A pathetic little girl. Scared of the world," a sharp pain. You swallow hard  "scared of anything real."

"Rio," Agatha walks up, towering over you two. "put it away,"

"Why should I?" she wonders. Pressing a little harder. "tell her."

"What happened to you?" Agatha questions. Your eyes flicker up to her. Did she really want to know or was it diversion. "where does this hate come from?"

"you left me," you reply. A loud bark of laughter from Rio as her blade lowers.

"no," the woman shakes her head slowly. "that's... not it."

"boring," Rio groans loudly. "I didn't lie, y'know? I know you don't want to believe me but it's true. Isn't it Agatha?" the woman rises to her feet. Patting the other witch on the shoulder. "we left because you were weak."

"it... it wasn't quite like that," Agatha offers out a hand. You brush it off, standing up. "we thought you'd be better off."

"alone?"

"without us." Agatha corrects. "you were so..." her eyes trail over you. "different back then. You didn't know you were a witch. You were just so..."

"innocent," Rio insists.

"no- well, yes but not in the way you might think. You just needed a push and we were being so careful,"

"soft," Rio interjects once more.

This little game of back-and-forth was cute. But you didn't care. Rio was using it as an excuse to get some sick sense of pleasure from throwing in insults while Agatha was doing anything to avoid saying what she thought. You knew Agatha. She could be just as mean as Rio. "can you get to the point?"

"you already know," you ignore Rio, looking straight at Agatha.

"We wanted to protect you," you can't help but roll your eyes. That was the best excuse she could come up with. Some fairytail bullshit. "felt easier to leave." you glance at Rio who looked just as over it as you did.

"Agatha thought you'd be better off without us. That we shouldn't be dragging you into a world you weren't ready for. Blah blah blah. Too weak to come with us. If we left you wouldn't get caught up in anything bad,"

"Rio was actually the one who didn't want to go,"

"Whatever," she huffs. Her gaze down at the knife in her hand; twisting the edge against the tip of her forefinger. "I thought it'd be worse if we just left you. that it'd fuck with you- we just needed to be harsher."

"but I was right,"

"you were wrong," Rio answers.

"How? I mean look at her," Agatha ushers towards you. "a full-fledged witch. Survived centuries. That's something. You didn't need us."

"do you wanna tell her or should I?" you wonder if Rio is genuine in her question or if this was just another attempt at teasing. This conversation had mainly been between the two of them.

"Tell me what?"

"I wasn't... okay, Agatha," you admit for perhaps the first time ever out loud. Only Rio knows what happened to you in the years between them leaving and the last time you saw her. You made sure of that. The two of them had grand legacies but you wanted to be forgotten in history. Like the legend of Bloody Mary. Not a sole dare speaks your name anymore because who knows what'll happen if you show up.

"oh bunny," a pet name you hadn't heard in a very long time. It almost seemed childish now. Pathetic. "just talk to me."

"you don't care,"

"god do I have to do everything around here," Rio complains. "she was tried as a witch, Agatha. Use your head for once."

"Rio," you huff.

She rolls her eyes. "burned at the stake."

"Rio," you snarl. "stop. I don't wanna talk about it."

"yes you do," she responds sharply. "you want nothing more than to make Agatha Harkness feel guilty for leaving you. Hurt her the way she hurt you." you dart for her in one swift motion. A hand around her neck. The teasing just becoming too much, and you were sick of hearing her talk.

"you hurt me too," you bark, shoving her against the nearest tree. What should be fear is instead a small smirk and dark eyes.

"fiesty," she quips. She knows you won't kill her. You can't.

"you're the only person to ever leave a mark." you resume. "an ugly scar that my body just refuses to heal."

"come on sweet one." you drive a little harder. "make it hurt."

"do you know what it's like to be tied up and buried in a coffin? To slowly suffocate to death over and over and over again," fingernails dig into the skin of her neck. You can see it's having an effect. The wobble in her smile. "the way your body screams for oxygen. Your insides burning with desire but there is nothing you can do?"

"drop her," Agatha's hand reaches your shoulder and your powers kick in. Your free hand waves her away. Energy blasts her backwards and she stumbles to the ground. A lesser witch wouldn't know of Agatha's ability to drain magic but you were smarter than that. careful in your use despite the speed. control what's around her rather than directly blasting her.

"don't touch me," you growl.

"our... little girl... is all grown... up," choked out of Rio's mouth. You watch her grow a little paler. A little more starved for breath. And then you drop her. She crumbles to the floor. "and filled..." she coughs. "with... murderous rage... apparently."

"calm down," Agatha tries from her place on the floor, as she tries to get up. You use your magic to help her up. Leaving her hovering just a few feet off the ground.

"y'know, when they dragged me from bed and burned me at the stake all I could think about was you two. Surely, they didn't just leave without a word. They'll... come back and help me." you can still picture that night. The confusion. the heat. The pain. "you left me," you walk towards Agatha. "and look at you now. The great Agatha Harkness is completely powerless."

"we're sorry, okay- aren't we rio?" rio shrugs a little. With a heavy sigh, you drop Agatha to the ground. "you've come a long way bunny."

"wasn't really a choice,"

"Can we just backtrack a little," the older witch requests. Brushing herself off as she stands back up.

"immortality looks good on you," Rio teases. You hold up a middle finger.

"you're immortal?"

"for the longest time, I thought one of you cursed me with it. Some fucked up way of protecting me. But then I went looking for you. Heard all about your extra circular activities. Witch killer, hiding behind dark magic," Agatha just looks back as you turn to Rio. She knew the story. "Rio was easier to find,"

"should have stayed dead," Rio insisted, the cold metal blade dancing across the scar on your neck. "how easier that would be," you shove her away and she just chuckles. "oh how I missed this," she wonders over to were Agatha is stood.

"I'm going back to sleep," you announce. "let's just leave it at that,"

"Why did you come," Agatha asks. You wonder if it's worth the conversation. The headache of continuing to engage with them. "if you hate me so much?"

"to die," you say eventually as you head back to camp.

// NEXT

[r3ynah]

Substitute

Danny as Phantom, bored out of his mind tried his best to keep his eyes open, this JL meeting, the meeting was about a cause of mind control or something, in short this was just boring,

he was here as a substitute for Constantine because that man ditched the last second, and left Phantom for himself.

His so gonna push the man off the ledge when he sees him.

Danny continued to dissociate, until he heard a familiar name, coming out of the dark knight's mouth.

"Ember? the popstar? batman do you really think she's the one doing this mind control thing?" Flash asked, he was also almost falling asleep until the popstar's name was said. "Man, Ember's songs are such a vibe, hope she's not some supervillain"

"It is not confirmed, All we know is that she might only be a meta civilian that really just wants to show the world her songs" Wonder woman reasoned, from the far end of the table.

"Until further notice, we shall gather some crimes she unknowingly did, and have her quarantined for the mean time." Batman stated at the other side of the table.

wait what? Quarantine Ember? His rogue and friend, no that wouldn't do.

"I need to disagree with you there Mr. Batman" Phantom called out gaining all the members attention

"And why is that, Phantom?" Superman asked for Batman, who only stared at the ghost with curiosity.

"Well, you did specifically said that members cannot, mess with other members rogues" Phantom exclaimed "If you mess with Ember you're practically breaking your own rules,"

"The Ember, is your rogue?" Flash said astonished. "Wait that means she's also a ghost like you, But why are you just letting her go around the world parading?"

"Yes she's a ghost like me, i let her parade the world because she's on a vacation I mean this whole world tour speaks for itself, putting her in quarantine will do no good for her or anyone, and the whole mind controlling thing is so last season for Ember, she just sucks the energy out of people who hear her songs so she herself can have energy." Phantom explained, floating down to sit on his designated chair. "Besides I keep track of her, to make sure she doesn't create havoc and overdue her powers, she hasn't mind controlled anyone that's for sure."

Phantom eyed batman who still remained, quiet, he looked like he was thinking of something deeply, whatever it was Danny didn't care as long as Ember and the other ghosts are safe.

"And how would you guarantee that Ember won't harm any human citizens?" Batman questioned.

"Oh that's easy, because I already told them what will happen, if they either try to hurt humans" Danny let out a smile that showed all his sharp fangs, his eyes glowed a toxic green, that made everyone in the room uncomfortable, his hair floated more aggressively and uncontrollably. "I think they got the message."

Everyone felt scared at that moment, just who the hell did Constantine, bring in here?

[amphipolitan]

Hey OP, I don't want to attack you personally here, but this post.... is not the damning indictment you seem to think it is.

Lord knows I'm no fan of Maas and I will never read her godawful books. But I do wonder why she seems to be a target of a lot of these sort of accusations when you could make a post of the exact same length about J.K. Rowling, Stephanie Meyer or George R.R. Martin.

Newsflash: Fantasy writers tend to not be very original. When they don't steal things from each other, they take it from mythology. That thing about a flower blooming for the rightful king? That's older than Tolkien. Our beloved JRRT "plagiarized" older works to the exact same degree (Wagner's Ring, anyone????) and George R.R. Martin is famous among his fans for planting "Easter Eggs" that relate back to other works, Lovecraftian mythos predominant among them. Does that make him a bad author? I don't think so.

Many of the quote comparisons you've posted - particularly the ones from popular movies - are obviously in there as a homage to those works. Authors do that. The Mulan "only one" line is really, really well known among Disney fans. It's a little in-joke for people who love the movie as much as Maas seems to. I have done similar things in my own writing - I once used the phrase "part of your world" in relation to a character who I wanted readers to read as being similar to the Little Mermaid. It was deliberate. The idea that some readers will take it completely the wrong way and accuse me of somehow "plagiarizing" Disney is creeping me out right now.

You claim to not want to "cancel" Maas but this whole post is actively contributing to cancel culture. I do wonder why I never see posts like this one about male authors. When people talk about all the other works that George R.R. Martin has taken names, ideas, and sometimes even whole-ass characters from, they say inspiration, not plagiarism. Since Maas is now getting pretty well known outside of bookworm spheres, I guess the clock is ticking. As it does for just about every woman who dares to spend time in the public eye.

Sarah J Maas: plagiarism or inspiration

In this post we are going to discuss the various and stricking similaries between Sarah J Maas series TOG/ACOTAR with original books she admited to consume, as well as the use of direct lines from movies, books and tv shows in her books, and where do we draw the line in what we consider to be inspiration vs plagiarism.

As some people know, SJM is a big fan of Anne Bishop's work, especifically her Black Jewels trilogy. Some people already noticed similarities between the two series (and in her TOG books as well) in terms of storyline, races and characters, but it's not nearly talked about enough.

It's good to make clear that the first book of "the black jewels" was published in 1998 and the last one of the trilogy was published in 2000, over 12 years before acotar and TOG was even launched. So Bishop's work was around a long time before sjm started to publish her books.

That being said, let's start with the fact that the beginning of her first series TOG is pratically the same as the beginning of the second book of The Black Jewels, Heir to the Shadows, but with a different character:

"After a year of slavery in the Salt Mines of Endovier, Celaena Sardothien was accustomed to being escorted everywhere in shackles and at sword-point. Most of the thousands of slaves in Endovier received similar treatment—though an extra half-dozen guards always walked Celaena to and from the mines. That was expected by Adarlan’s most notorious assassin. What she did not usually expect, however, was a hooded man in black at her side—as there was now" (TOG, 2012)

"Surrounded by guards, Lucivar Yaslana, the half-breed Eyrien Warlord Prince, walked into the courtyard, fully expecting to hear the order for his execution. There was no other reason for a salt mine slave to be brought to this courtyard, and Zuultah, the Queen of Pruul, had good reason to want him dead. Prythian, the High Priestess of Askavi, still wanted him alive, still hoped to turn him to stud. But Prythian wasn't standing in the courtyard with Zuultah." (Heir to the Shadows, 1999).

So, Sarah's first work begins with a paragraph that is already really really similar to the first one in Bishop's second novel.

Now, let's then move on to the part that shocked me the most and made me sure of doing this post: The extreme and undeniable resemblance between the Illyrians with the Eyriens, a race portrayed in Bishop's Black Jewels books, who one of the main characters, Lucivar (coincidentally or not, Sarah's favorite one) is a part of.

The Eyriens are described to be warriors with tanned skin, gold eyes, and "batlike wings". Eyrien males are trained in hunting camps as children, and the females are forbidden to touch weapons. They are often found in a mountainous territory called "Askavi Terreille", and carry prejudice against half-eyriens. Does all that sounds familiar?

The Illyrians are so much like the Eyriens, it's not even funny. They have bat-like wings, the males are trained in camps, live by the mountains, have their own personalized weapons, and the females are usually mistreated and not allowed to fight. And what does Rhysand suffer from them? Prejudice, because he's half illyrian. Even their physical characteristics are the same: golden brown skin, hazel eyes, black hair. What mainly sets on them apart is their names (which still sound pretty similar) and the fact that the illyrians have tattoos.

"He spread his dark, membranous wings, trying to ease the ache in his back." ( Daughter of the blood, page 12)

"Indeed, it was still Rhysand’s face, his powerful male body, but flaring out behind him were massive black membranous wings—like a bat’s, like the Attor’s" (ACOTAR, page 348)

"Still, it was home, and centuries of enslaved exile had left him aching for the smell of clean mountain air, the taste of a sweet, cold stream, the silence of the woods, and, most of all, the mountains where the Eyrien race soare" (Daughter of the blood, page 16)

"The Illyrians … We love our people, and our traditions, but they dwell in clans and camps deep in the mountains of the North" (ACOMAF, page 165)

"He had never felt this weary, this beaten. Not as a half-breed boy in the Eyrien hunting camps, not in the countless courts he'd served in over the centuries since" (Heir to the darkness, page 13)

“When I turned eight, my mother brought me to one of the Illyrian war- camps . To be trained, as all Illyrian males were trained" ( ACOMAF, page 168)

”She kept resisting because Eyrien females traditionally didn’t touch a warrior’s weapons" (Queen of the darkness, page 151).

“Some camps issued decrees that if a female was caught training, she was to be deemed unmarriageable. I can’t fight against things like that, not without slaughtering the leaders of each camp and personally raising each and every one of their offspring.” (ACOMAF, page 434)

”There are reasons why Eyrien males are the warriors— Lucivar said, his eyes skimming over the women as he paced slowly down the line and back again.— We’re bigger, stronger, and we have the temperament for killing. You have other strengths and other skills. Most of the time, that works out well." (Queen of Darkness, page 156)

“The  Illyrians— Rhys smoothly cut in, that light finally returning to his gaze — Are unparalleled warriors, and are rich with stories and traditions. But they are also brutal and backward, particularly in regard to how they treat their females.” (ACOMAF, page 166)

"She wanted to cut the wings off, raise the boy as Dhemlan maybe. But he said no, in his soul the boy was Eyrien, and it would be kinder to kill him in the cradle than to cut his wings" (Daughter Of The Blood, page 138)

“I banned wing-clipping a long, long time ago, but … at the more zealous camps, deep within the mountains, they do it." (ACOMAF, page 434).

"But they’re good boys, and they’ll carry their weight. And they are full-blooded  Eyriens — he added.

— So they don’t carry the stigma of being half-breeds? — Lucivar asked with deadly control." (Queen of the Darkness, page 39)

"He gave Rhys command of a legion of Illyrians who hated him for being a half-breed" (ACOMAF, page 136)

"Then he called in his Ebon-gray Jewels and the wide leather belt that held his hunting knife and his Eyrien war blade" (Heir to the shadows, page 257)

"I went from physical defense to learning to wield an Illyrian blade, the weapon so fine, I’d nearly taken Cassian’s arm off." (ACOMAF, page 367)

Some people can look at this as simple inspiration, but others consider the races to be almost identical. Their prejudices, the place they live, the place where they train and how they train being the same, with only a few minor key points being changed.

In Bishop's work men and women are adressed and divided as "males" and "females". Their society is based the existence of jewels, where the darker someone's jewel is, the more powerful that person becomes.

The jewels are close to what SJM called siphons, used by the illyrians. They are a representation of the powers of members of the blood, serve as containers, and vary in colors. Siphons, however, are literally jewels who filter Illyrians powers, manipulating magic. Members of the blood can have more than one jewel, and illyrians can have more than one siphon.

"An uncut Jewel is a rare thing, little Sister —   Titian said, removing something from the box.    — Wait until you know who you are before you have it set. Then it will be more than a receptacle for the power your body can't hold; it will be a statement of what you are." (Daughter of the blood, page 71)

"He held up his hands, the backs to me so both jewels were on full display.— They’re called  Siphons . They concentrate and focus our power in battle.” (ACOMAF, page 162)

"The Black-Jeweled ring on his right hand glittered with an inner fire." (Daughter of the blood, page 39)

"Siphons atop his scarred hands flickered like rippling blue fire as he reached for the Attor." (ACOMAF, page 262)

" Your fingers clenched around that Jewel. There was a flash of Red light, and the guards were flung backward." ( Daughter of the blood, page 136)

"Cassian lifted his hand into the air. Red light exploded from his Siphon, blasting up and away" (ACOMAF, page 543)

"Her strength was gone. The Jewel hungaround her neck, dark and empty" (Daughter of the blood, page 399)

"Azriel’s blue Siphons were dull, muted. Utterly empty."  (ACOMAF, page 554)

The Blood possess some ability to sense and mask their psychic scent. The conception of "scent" not only acts as a way for them to recognize each other, but also sense their emotions, and seems to be highlighted between couples, with Daemon for using it in order to fantasize or look for Jaenelle. That matches perfectly SJM's universe where the Fae are able to feel each others scents, sensing their emotions through it, it being stronger between mated couples:

"The psychic scent was almost gone, but he recognized it. A dark scent. A powerful, terrifying, wonderful scent. He breathed deeply, and the lifetime hunger in him became intense".(Daughter of the blood, page 178).

"Like the body that housed it, a witch's psychic scent had a muskiness that a Blood male could find as arousing as the body—if not more so" (Daughter of the blood, page 184)

His  scent  drifted to her, darker, muskier than usual. She’d bet all the money she didn’t have that it was the scent of his arousal. (ACOSF, page 235)

"A room where she had slept would still be strong with her psychic scent, even if it had been cleaned"  (Daughter of the blood, page 182)

"Cassian had flown back up to the House. And found the oak door to the stairs open, Nesta’s  scent  lingering." (ACOSF, page 99)

"No psychic scent of emotions for the guards to play with as they put the sobbing man into the old, one-man boat." (Daughter of the blood, page 149)

"He didn’t need to use a psychic probe to know who was on the other side of the door. The scent of her fear was sufficient." (Queen of the darkness, page 120)

"Their faces were vacant. Not a trace of fear in them, or in their scents." (ACOSF, page 344)

"Those of us who have would notice the similarities in your psychic scents and reach the correct conclusion" ( Queen of Darkness, page 114)

"He didn’t believe me. So he grabbed Catrin, because our scents were nearly identical, you see" (ACOSF, page 652)

The basic unit of Blood society and government is a Queen and her Court. To create a Court, she must be at the age of majority and have twelve males who agree to be in her First Circle. Jaenelle creates hers in the second book, who is  denominated as the "dark court". How is Rhysan's court called? The night court. How is his unity of power named? "the inne circle". Rhysand's court is also referred as "the court of dreams", and Jaenelle is called "dreams made flesh".

"He hoped she'd be pleased to have the use of this place. He hoped he'd be invited when she established her own court. He wanted to see whom she selected for her First Circle" (Daughter of the Blood page 92)

"They’re Rhysand’s Inner Circle.The ones I’d heard mentioned that day at the Night Court—who Rhys kept going to meet." (ACOMAF, page 135)

"The living myth— Saetan whispered.— Dreams made flesh— His throat tightened. He closed his eyes." (Heir to the shadows, page 459)

“And what is this court? — I asked, gesturing to them. The most important question.

It was Cassian, eyes clear and bright as his Siphon, who said — The Court of Dreams.”

Remember Lucivar? The main Eyrien character? Well, it doesn't help sjm's case that he's incredibly similar to Cassian:

Because he's an eyrien, Lucivar was raised as a warrior and has bat wings, together with gold eyes and tanned skin. He also has long black hair and is considered to be well-built. Initially his jewels are birthright red, and later they descent into being ebon grey. Just like his father, he is known as having an explosive temper who often lead him to trouble. Thanks to him not being recognized by Saetan initially, Lucivar is seen as a bastard. This is not at all far from how Cassian is written.

Let's also keep in mind: Lucivar is also responsable for recruting and training Eyrien warriors in the Dark Court, later training the women who live in Ebon Askavi (which, as I will show later, is almost identical to the House of Wind).

Cassian's tragetory is marked by him being underlooked as a "bastard" and not being able to control his temper, and that is further developed in acosf. His appereance is carbon-copy of Lucivar (the only difference being that his eyes are hazel), and his siphons are red. He also happens to train illyrian warriors, and later Feyre, Nesta and the other priestesses from the library. Like Lucivar has a brotherly bond with Jaenelle and waits for her to be his queen, Cassian has a brotherly love for Feyre and respects her as his high lady:

"Unlike the other slaves who couldn't contain their misery or fear, there was no expression in Lucivar's gold eyes" (Daughter of the Blood, page 13)

"Like their High Lord, the males—warriors—were dark-haired, tan-skinned. But unlike Rhys, their eyes were hazel and fixed on me as I at last stepped close" (ACOMAF, page 155)

"She looked so pale against his light-brown skin, and he knew it wasn't simply because she was fair-skinned" (Daughter of the blood, page 19)

"She watched his light brown fingers play against her pale skin" (ACOSF, page 367)

"The man wore a leather vest and the black, skintight trousers favored by Eyrien warriors. His black hair fell to his shoulders, which was unusual for an Eyrien male. [..] A wild joy filled Daemon, even as his heart clogged his throat and tears stung his gold eyes. Lucivar." (Queen of the Darkness, page 45)

"Cassian surveyed Rhys from head to foot, his shoulder-length black hair shifting with the movement" (ACOMAF, page 155)

"Because he was a half-breed bastard, he had no hope of attaining a position of authority within a court, despite the rank of his jewels" (Daughter of the Blood, page 17)

"I can tell you how I hear Eris and Devlon and the others talk and, deep down, I still believe that I am a worthless bastard brute. That it doesn’t matter how many Siphons I have or how many battles I’ve won" (ACOSF, page 434)

"Tears stung Lucivar's eyes. Why, Daemon? What did she do to deserve being hurt like that?  His voice rose. He couldn't stop it. She was the Queen we had dreamed of serving. We had waited for her for so long.  You butchering whore, why did you have to kill her?" (Heir to the shadows, page 31)

"He’d thought about that painting a great deal in the days afterward—how it had made him feel, how close they’d all come to losing their High Lady before they’d ever met her." (ACOSF, page 43)

"Because he was a trained Eyrien warrior and had a temper that was explosive even for a Warlord Prince" (Daughter of the blood, page 16)

"Cassian was lounging in his chair, a glass of wine in his hand, staring at nothing. A brooding warrior-prince, contemplating the death of his enemies." (ACOSF, page 275)

"He could have caught him on the first pass. The young one will have to concede the battle, but it’ll stay in his mind that he put up a good fight. No, Lucivar understands how to train an Eyrien warrior.” (Queen of Darkness, page 103)

"Cassian prayed that the gods were watching over him as Rhys sipped from his tea and said,    

—You’re ready?

He leaned back in his seat. — I’ve gotten young warriors in line before." (ACOSF, page 43)

There's even a line when Lucivar is training the women in ebon askavi that hits very close to one used when Cassian is training the priestesses:

”If you can become half as proficient with this as she is, you’ll be able to take down any male except an Eyrien warrior —  Falonar said slowly. — And you’ll be able to take down half of them as well.” (Queen of the darkness, page 158)

"Cassian continued to train Nesta, Emerie, and Gwyn. The rain didn’t let up, and they were all soaked, but the exertion kept the bite of the cold away.— So this can really down a male in one move? [...] He concentrated on the females in front of him. — This move will knock anyone unconscious if you hit the right spot.” (ACOSF, page 385)

Daemon, his brother, is too very similar to Rhysand. He has the reputation of a sadist, after being tortured and used as slave in the hands of Dorotothea, close to how Rhys was known as a cruel fae who had to serve Amarantha (the way they a called is also pretty much the same, as well, being referred as their "pet" or "whore"). Daemon believes to be destined to Jaenelle, even before meeting her, sometimes feeling her touch, and dreaming or her, just like Rhysand talks about knowing Feyre was his mate, and dreaming of her before they met. He, like Saetan, Jaenelle, and Lucivar, is a black widow: which means he can access people's minds and thoughts, as well as communicate telephatically, exactly how daemanti in acotar have the ability to do.

"His face was a gift of his mysterious heritage, aristocratic and too beautifully shaped to be called merely handsome. He was tall and broad-shouldered. He kept his body well toned and muscular enough to please. His voice was deep and cultured, with a husky, seductive edge to it that made women go all misty-eyed. His gold eyes and thick black hair were typical of all three of Terreille's long-lived races, but his warm, golden-brown skin was a little lighter than the Hayllian aristos—more like the Dhemlan race." (Daughter of the blood, page 24)

"I stepped out of the shelter of my savior’s arm and turned to thank him. Standing before me was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. Everything about the stranger radiated sensual grace and ease. High Fae, no doubt. His short black hair gleamed like a raven’s feathers" (ACOTAR, page 193)

"I had no answer to that—to the tenor in his rich, deep voice. So I examined the tattoos on his chest and arms, the glow of his tan skin , so golden now that he was no longer caged inside that mountain." (ACOMAF, page 289)

"Daemon smiled that cold, cruel smile. "Now you know what it's like to get into bed with Hayll's Whore." (Daughter of the blood, page 77)

"Lucien interrupted — What do you know about anything? You’re just Amarantha’s whore.

— Her whore I might be, but not without my reasons.” (ACOTAR, page 239)

"In his soul, he knew her. In his dreams, he saw her. He never envisioned a face. It always blurred if he tried to focus on it. But he could see her dressed in a robe made of dark, transparent spidersilk, a robe that slid from her shoulders as she moved, a robe that opened and closed as she walked, revealing bare, night-cool skin. And there would be a scent in the room that was her, a scent he would wake to, burying his face in her pillow after she was up and attending her own concerns." (Daughter of the Blood, page 27)

“Three years ago, he said quietly,  — I began to have these … dreams [...] The images were foggy, like looking through cloudy glass. They were brief—a flash here and there, every few months. I thought nothing of them, until one of the images was of a hand … This beautiful, human hand. Holding a brush. Painting—flowers on a table.” (ACOMAF, page 504)

“I saw you through your dreams—and I hoarded the images [...] I’d wake up with your scent in my nose, and it would haunt me all day, every step." (ACOMAF, page 505)

"There was a bitter taste in Daemon's mouth. The ashes of dreams. After all, he was Hayll's Whore, a pleasure slave, an amusement for the ladies no matter what their age, a way to pass the time" (Daughter of the blood, page 267)

"And he would be at that table in the town house, roaring with laughter—never again cold and cruel and solemn. Never again anyone’s slave or whore" (ACOMAF, page 497)

"You're my Queen,he thought fiercely. His body ached. She was his Queen. But with her family surrounding them, watching, there was nothing he could say or do to help her" (Daughter of the blood, page 360)

"My equal in every way; she would wear my crown, sit on a throne beside  mine. Never sidelined, never designated to breeding and parties and child-rearing. My queen." (ACOMAF, 598)

"He caught her wrists, holding her off with an ease that made her scream. He hit the Black shields on her inner barriers hard enough to make her work to keep them intact, but they wouldn't keep him out for long." (Daughter of the blood, page 302)

"My innate talents allow me to slip through the mental shields of anyone I wish, with or without that bridge—unless they’re very, very strong, or have trained extensively to keep those shields tight." (ACOMAF, page 59)

At some point Daemon is even called Jaenelle's mate:

"He’s here! Jaenelle’s mate is finally here!  Daemon felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him" (Heir to the shadows, page 117)

His position and title of highlord is parallelled a lot by how Saetan is decribed:

"High Lord of Hell, the Prince of the Darkness, the most powerful and dangerous Warlord Prince in the history of the Blood" (Daughter of the darkness, page 266)

"For what it’s worth, I’m the most powerful  High Lord in Prythian’s history" (ACOMAF, page 145)

Moving on to other similarities, Ebon Askavi, known as the black mountain or "the keep", who is put as a sanctuary, keeping a library containing the history of the blood, matches the form in which the house of wind is developed in sjm's books, with the palace also being embedded into a mountain. The Keep is a safe place where the high lord of hell reserves for the demon dead to rest, same as Rhysand turning the library into a home for the priestesses. And the whole Bryaxis situation? A creature who lives in the pit of the library? Well, Ebon askavi used to be the home of the prince of dragons: Lorn, who guess what? Used to reside beneath it. Finally, Bishop literally describes the palace as the place where "The winds meet".

"Saetan limped across the empty courtyard to the huge, open-metal doors embedded into the mountain itself, rang the bell, and waited to enter the Keep, the Black Mountain, Ebon Askavi, where the Winds meet. It was the repository for the Blood's history as well as a sanctuary for the darkest-Jeweled Blood. It was also the private lair of Witch" (Daughter of the blood, page 59)

"Draca led him through the corridors of  Ebon Askavi  toward a large stairwell that descended into the heart of the mountain." ( Daughter of the blood, page 431)

“Her throat closed at the surge of memories and at the sprawling view—the glimmering ribbon of the Sidra far below, the red-stoned palace built into the side of the flat-topped mountain itself." (ACOSF, page 49).

“I made this library into a refuge for them. Some come to heal, work as acolytes, and then leave; some take the oaths to the Cauldron and Mother to become priestesses and remain here forever" (ACOWAR, page 212)

"She still served the Keep itself, looking after the comfort of the scholars who came to study, of the Queens who needed a dark place to rest" (Daughter of the Blood, page 61)

"—  Who was here before them?

  —  A few cranky old scholars, who cursed me soundly when I relocated them to other libraries in the city. They still get access, but when and where is always approved by the priestesses.” (ACOWAR, page 213)

“There is a creature beneath the library. Do you know it?

Amren shut the book.

— Its name is  Bryaxis.

— What is it.

— You do not want to know, girl.” (ACOWAR, page 452).

"Mother Night, Saetan — Geoffrey said, his breathing ragged.  — The Keep is his lair.

He's been here all the time.

He hadn't expected Lorn to be so big. "(Heir to the shadows, page 476)

As for Amren being a unknown creature who was tuned into a faerie and lived centuries before everyone else? Same thing as Draca. She lived by the time Dragons ruled the world and was later turned into something "human", assisting the high lord of hell:

"When only the Queen and her Prince, Lorn, were left, the Queen bid her Consort farewell [...] When the last scale fell from her, she vanished. Some stories say her body was transformed into some other shape, though it still contained a dragon's soul" (Heir to the shadows, page 375).

  "— Why won’t Amren go in here?

  —  Because she was once a prisoner.

  — Not in that body, I take it.

   A cruel smile.

  — No. Not at all.” (ACOMAF, page 185)

"Spiraling? — Geoffrey thought for a moment and shook his head. — No, but that doesn't mean it can't happen. Ask Draca. Compared to her, you're still in the nursery and I'm just a stripling." (Daughter of the blood, page 243)

"In the countless millennia they had existed here in Prythian, Rhys—Rhys with his smirking and sarcasm and bedroom eyes ...And Amren was worse. And older than five thousand years." (ACOMAF, page 145)

"When they had first arrived at the Keep, Lucivar had given him a cryptic warning: Draca is a dragon in human form.The moment he’d seen the Seneschal, he’d understood what Lucivar meant. Her looks, combined with the feel of great age and old, deep power, had fascinated him." (Queen of the darkness, page 252)

"Because even though the short, delicate woman looked like High Fae … as Rhys had warned me, every instinct was roaring to run. To hide. [...] But Amren’s eyes …Her silver eyes were unlike anything I’d ever seen; a glimpse into the creature that I knew in my bones wasn’t High Fae. Or hadn’t been born that way."  (ACOMAF, page 158)

"Draca asked. Her unblinking reptilian eyes revealed nothing" (Daughter of the blood, page 431)

You can also find some of the names of characters and places of Anne Bishop's books in Sarah J Mass ones. For instance: Sarah admited Prythian was a trick on Pryddain from the chronicles of Pryddain but that she couldn't put the original name because it belonged to Phillip Alexander, so she choose Prythian. But one of the high priestesses in Bishop's trilogy is indeed named Prythian.

"Prythian, Askavi's High Priestess, couldn't leash his temper enough to serve witches he despised" (Daughter of the blood, page 16)

If you look at the titles of some of the TOGs books, you realize they are alike Anne Bishop's as well:

The thing is: where do we draw the line when it comes to inspiration in books? It's common to have some similarities between author's works, however, to have that many in lines, places, plots, on top of races and characters who are nearly identical to the ones someone created fourteen years before you? I don't know.

I don't appreciate Bishop's work, in fact, I suffered a lot to go through the trilogy, for problems like: explicit sexual violence, mutilation, and worst of all grooming (Daemon meets his so called soulmate when she's a child, and he kisses her when she's 12), which literally made feel sick, but, is clear Bishop came up with a lot of things a long time before SJM did.

Because her series of books came out by the 2000, most of sjm's target audience doesn't know Bishop's work, making it very easy to avoid comparison. This is one of the reasons why this situation becomes a big problem, because most of her fans think SJM work is totally original, and that she came up with 99% of the concepts by herself.

Besides the black jewels, Sarah was said to have taking scenes, plots and quotes from other original productions/books, like the lord of the rings (which she's also a huge fan):

For example, The White Tree of Gondor and Kingsflame.

The White Tree of Gordon only blooms when the rightful ruler sits on the throne. Coming to later bloom in Aragorn's coronation:

"And so the kingdom of Gondor sank into ruin, the line of kings failed, the white tree withered and the rule of Gondor was given over to lesser men."

Kingsflame, however, it’s a magical flower that first bloomed when Brannon arrived, proof that was a good king:

 "since those ancient days, only single blossoms had been spotted, so rare in their appearance that their appearance was deemed a sign that the land had blessed whatever ruler sat on Terrasen’s throne. (KOA 686)"

Similarly, the flower also blooms after Aelin’s Coronation:

Across every mountain, spread across the green canopy of Oakwald, carpeting the entire Plain of Theralis, the kingsflame was blooming. (KOA 984)

We also have the scene when Haldir arrives at helms deep:

"I bring word from Elrond of Rivendell.  An alliance once existed between Elves and men. Long ago we fought and died together. We come to honor that allegiance."

While Manon says this in KOA:

"Long ago the Crochans fought beside Terrasen, to honor the great debt we owed the Fae King Brannon for granting us a homeland."(KOA, page 693)

And don't forget, Aragorn saying:

"My friends, you bow to no one"

While Rhysand says this in ACOWAR:

"You bow to no one, was all he replied"

Don't forget, the conversation between Theoden and Gamling in the Two Towers movie:

"Theoden: Who am I, Gamling?

Gamling : You are our king, sire.

Theoden : And do you trust your king?

Gamling : Your men, my Lord, will follow you to whatever end.

Theoden : To whatever end... "

Followed by this conversation between Rowan and Aelin:

“—To whatever end? — she breathed.

Rowan followed her, as he had his entire life, long before they had ever met, before their souls had sparked into existence. —“To whatever end, Fireheart.”

We also have other examples, like treasure island:

"Look at you! Glowing like a solar fire. You're something special, Jim. You're gonna rattle the stars, you are!"  (Treasure Island-2003)

"You could rattle the stars," she whispered. "You could do anything, if only you dared. And deep down, you know it, too. That’s what scares you most. "( TOG page 385, chapter 54)

ASOIAF:

A quite similar phrase to "Queen that was promised" was used in GRRM’s ASOIAF,  where an ancient prophecy talked about a "Prince who was promised",  later it being reveleaded that they expected a boy, but the title was said to fall to Daenarys Targaryen (a queen). This is mentioned in " A dance of dragons" which was published in 2011. This prince is also mentioned as being “the Heir of Fire”.

"Westeros must unite beneath her one true king, the prince that was promised, Lord of Dragonstone and chosen of R'hllor" ( A dance with dragons, 2011)

"Perhaps it had all been for nothing. The Queen Who Was Promised" (KOA, page 121, 2018)

"He is fire made flesh, she thought, and so am I."  (A dance with dragons, page 949, 2011)

"Fire - he reminded her of fire made flesh."  (ACOWAR, 2017)

Harry Potter is added to list, as well:

Dumbledore: Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all those who live without love. (HP and the deathly hallows, page 705, 1997).

Rhysand: Be glad of your human heart, Feyre. Pity those who don’t feel anything at all. (ACOTAR, page 418, 2012).

"Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light." (Harry Potter and the prisioner of Azkaban, 2004)

“Light can be found even in the darkest of hells” (ACOWAR, page 577, 2017)

The movie spirit:

Little Creek: Take care of her, Spirit-who-could-not-be-broken (Spirit, 2002)

Nehemia: I name you Elentiya, ‘Spirit That Cannot Be Broken.' (TOG, page 44)

Shadow and Bone:

The quote "like calls to like" explains one of the most important plot points in shadow and bone, the first book was published in 2012, and Sarah was mentioned in Leigh's acknowledgments as the person who gave her first review. She had used "magic calls to magic" before in throne of glass in 2012, yet the book was published in august, while Shadow and Bone came out before, in june. The principle of "like calls to like" in her books was mentioned by the time ACOMAF came out, in 2016, four years later. It was also used to describe attraction to objects of power, which follows Bardugo's concept.

Shadow and Bone: The grounding principle of the Small Science was “like calls to like" (page 113)

ACOMAF: The box—the Book—was silent. Then it said, Like calls to like  (page 350)

“The Grisha claims the amplifier, but the amplifier claims the Grisha, as well. Once it is done, there can be no other. Like calls to like, and the bond is made.” (page 130)

The movie troy:

"Menelaus : Prince? What prince? What son of a king would accept a man's hospitality, eat his food, drink his wine, embrace him in friendship, and then steal his wife in the middle of the night?

Paris : The sun was shining when your wife left you." (Troy, 2004)

“If you hadn’t stolen my bride away in the night, Rhysand, I would not have been forced to take such drastic measures to get her back.

I said quietly, The sun was shining when I left you.” (ACOWAR, page 396, 2017)

The Land before Time:

"Some things you see with your eyes. Other things you see with your heart." ( The Land before Time 1988)

"Some things you hear with your eyes. Other things you hear with your heart."( Crown of Midgnight, page 168, 2011)

Mulan:

"Shan Yu: How many men does it take to deliver a message?

The other Hun: One.

The Hun proceeds to shoot one of the imperial soldiers with an arrow." (Mulan, 1998)

“But it seems like tonight isn’t really your night, Elide said to the ilken, lifting the hatchet again over a shoulder. The ilken might have been whimpering as she smiled grimly.—Because it only takes one to deliver a message. And your companions are already on their way.

The axe fell.

Flesh and bone and blood spilled onto the stones.” (Empire of Storms, page 455, 2016)

There's more to show about the black jewels, but this posts is already huge, so I'm going to finish by talking a little bit about her new series: Crescent city, which people already pointed out to be similar to another series she also talked about before: The Fever series by Karn Marie Moning, published in 2007. Now, I don't think is the same case as the black jewels, because crescent city does follow a much more different story, but is still have matching characters and main storyline.

Darkfever tells the story of MacKayla, a girl who seemingly had a perfect life. After the murder of her sister, she sees herself obligated to make an alliance with the mysterious Jericho in order find her killer, whilst exploring her sidhe-seer powers. Crescent city, on the other hand, is also about a girl losing people close to her: her best friend and her crush, then deciding to solve their deaths by teaming up with the fallen angel Hunt.

Mackayla is a sidhe seer, a person who can see fae, and ends up in the book series as their queen, while Bryce is half fae. They are both extremely attractive girls, who love to party and take good care of their appereance. Jericho, however, is a handsome, tough supernatural being who resources to Mac in order to find answers, ending up getting involved with her. Lastly, Hunt is a fallen angel, who needs to make sure Bryce cooperates with the investigation, and develops feelings for her.

"My sister's whole body had holes in it, Inspector! Not just her arms! The coroner said they looked like teeth marks! — Not of any person or animal he'd been able to identify, though.— And parts of her were just fora!— I was shaking. I hated the memory. It made me sick to my stomach" (Dark Fever, page 71)

"She knew in her bones it was not a hallucination, what lay on that bed, knew in her bones that what bled out inside her chest was her heart. Danika lay there. In pieces" (Crescent City, page 74)

"Grieving wasn't going to bring her back, and it sure wasn't going to make me feel better about whoever'd killed her walking around alive out there somewhere, happy in their sick little psychotic way, while my sister lay icy and white beneath six feet of dirt" (Dark Fever, page 10)

"Briggs planned to hurt people, and he deserved to be in jail, but—he’d been wrongly accused of the murder.Danika’s killer was still out there" (Crescent City, page 145)

"I think I just finally expelled the last drop of moisture from my body that wasn't absolutely necessary to keep me alive. And rage watered my parched soul. I wanted answers. I wanted justice.I wanted revenge." (Dark fever, page 11)

"She didn’t know where to start.But she’d do it. Find whoever had done this.[...] She ground her teeth. She’d find whoever had done this and make them regret ever being born." (Crescent City, page 164)

Once again, Hunt has the exact same appeareance as Jericho, and their personalities are also pretty much alike.

"He studied me with his predator's gaze, assessing me from head to toe. I studied him back. He didn't just occupy space; he saturated it.The room had been full of books before, now it was full of him. About thirty, six foot two or three, he had dark hair, golden skin, and dark eyes. His features were strong, chiseled." (Dark Fever, page 36)

"An angel who reason and history reminded him was an ally, though every instinct roared the opposite.Predator. Killer. Monster. Hunt Athalar’s angular dark eyes, however, remained fixed on the window. On Bryce Quinlan." (House of earth and blood, page 80)

"Hunt nodded once, his golden-brown face betraying nothing." (House of earth and blood, page 81)

"Then the male leafed through Quinlan’s thin file, his shoulder-length black hair slipping over his unreadable face." (House of earth and blood, page 81)

Darkfever presentd V'lane as a third character, an attractive seelie prince, who rules the Tuatha Dé Dannan, and happens to go after Mackayla as revenge against Jericho. In crescent city, there third main character is Ruhn, Bryce's half brother, and who is he? A crowned prince of the fae. And what is his last name? Danaan.

"Even today, after all that I've seen, I couldn't begin to describe V'lane, prince of the Tuatha Dé Danaan." (Dark Fever, page 134)

"Thinking she’d get a nice, sweaty ride with a Prince of the Fae, she’d be sorely disappointed. He was in no shape for fucking right now." (Crescent city, page 199)

“I got a phone call, Naomi said. From Ruhn fucking Danaan. He’s livid that we didn’t notify Sky and Breath about bringing in the girl." (Crescent city, page 96)

The scene where Hunt goes to watch over Bryce in her apartment follows the exact same patterns of the scene Jericho goes to visit Mackayla in her home:

"A moment later, her phone buzzed on the coffee table. Right as her show began.She didn’t know the number, but she wasn’t at all surprised when she picked up, plopping down onto the cushions, and Hunt growled,

— Open the curtains. I want to watch the show.” (Crescent city, page 84)

"Someone knocking at my door awakened me [...] I glanced at my watch. It was two o'clock in the morning. I was sleepy and grumpy and didn't try to disguise it.

—Who is it?

— Jericho Barrons." (Dark Fever, page 40)

“Open the curtains.

— No, thank you.

— Or you could invite me in and make my job easier.

— Definitely no.

—Why?

— Because you can do your job just as well from that roof.” (Crescent City; page 184)

"Do you intend to open this door, Ms. Lane, or shall we converse where anyone might attend our business? [...]. If he was willing to trade, I had to open that door. Unless…

— We can trade through the door, I said.

— No

— Why not?

— I am a private person, Ms. Lane. This is not negotiable." (Dark Fever, page 41)

"His dark eyes didn’t so much as blink. Striking—that was the only word Bryce could think of to describe his handsome face, full of powerful lines and sharp cheekbones. — You can make this investigation easy, or you can make it hard.” (Crescent City, page 187)

" When I said nothing, he said softly — If you are not with me, Ms. Lane, you are against me. I have no mercy for my enemies.  

I shrugged." (Dark Fever, page 46)

So, I do believe SJM is the type author whose actions we need to discuss. Even if you see the whole thing with " The black jewels" is just an inspiration, you can't deny the fact there some exact lines of movies and books in her work. Plus: it's not just one quote or just one plot, but many.

If you ever try to read The Black Jewels trilogy you'll notice much more than what I brought in this post, and I do hope more people are able to research it. However, if you have any triggers regarding SA, mutil*tion, abuse, gr*mming, or torture scenes, I strongly recommend you do not read these books. They are not easy to go through, and the same thing goes to Dark Fever, although is a lot lighter.

Now, you can find more about the "Lord of the rings" and "Harry Potter" situation in here:

This is not a post trying to "cancel" sjm or simply attack her without reason. But I do believe we have to talk about her work and the problems with it, especially when it involves the work of other writers. If anyone has any more examples, or articles about this matter, quote this post with them if you can. I couldn't put more because you have a limit for tumblr posts, and it would be way too much. Anyway, thank you sticking here until the end.

[percyluvr]

percy jackson x child of aphrodite!reader summary: you see a trend on tiktok & convince your boyfriend to do it with you wc: 489

You and Percy had been cuddled up on his bed for over 2 hours. You were both sitting up against the frame of his bed, your head leaning against his shoulder and his head leaning on top of yours. 

Percy's lean but strong arms wrapped around your torso were slowly distracting you from your meaningless Tiktok scrolling, that was, until you scrolled upon a video of a girl tying a pink ribbon to her boyfriend's arm and having him break it by flexing.

Though Percy was slowly drifting off to sleep, when he saw you stop on the video and giggle he was fully awake again. Whenever you got that look on your face he knew you were up to something. 

You turned your head to look at him only to find his gorgeous sea-green eyes staring at you in curiosity. Wou smiled and showed him the video.

"Babe can we pleaseee do this?" You asked him, pouting your lips. 

While Percy was never one to say no to your wishes, you didn't expect him to agree to quickly to this, but you probably should've because he was not only extremely in love with you, but also very adamant about proving to your friends and TikTok followers that he was the best boyfriend of all time. 

"Sugar, you know all you have to do is ask and I'd be willing to do it, no matter what it is," he says, giving you a sweet kiss on the top of your head. 

Being a child of Aphrodite, as well as an avid enjoyer of the color pink, you usually kept a pink ribbon in your pocket, just in case. You fished the ribbon out and, luckily, the ribbon was just long enough to go around his sculpted bicep. 

"Okay, let me take a picture first because you just look too cute," you said, flashing him a quick grin and taking a point-five picture of him that would be sure to go on your monthly instagram photo dump. 

After you took the picture, you switched to TikTok and started recording, and when he flexed his arm to break the ribbon, you swear you could've passed out right then and there, but somehow you managed not to. After rewatching the video, you debated even posting it because you didn't want anyone else to see the beauty that was your boyfriend breaking a ribbon with his sheer muscle, but decided that everyone's eyes deserved to be blessed.

"Damn baby, my muscles look good there, definitely post that," he winked. 

No matter how many times he flirted or winked at you, you could never get used to it. You may be a child of Aphrodite, but you thought there was no way in hell you would ever be able to compare to Percy's beauty, to which he would always disagree because you were his baby and no one could possibly be prettier than you.

a/n: pretend like demigods can use phones just for me pretty pls

[theoldsports]

SHITHEAD.

Art Donaldson x Reader.

warnings: a lot of them. 18+, slapping, begging, major angst, brat!Art, an argument with make up sex. Art is really manipulative because… he is a bit and we all know it. [Y/N] is very ill-tempered too. it’s dirty.

can be a part ii to SPONTANEOUS, or read as a standalone. this is my favorite piece of writing i have published on this account.

The bed was empty beside [Y/N]. She stared at Art’s empty side of the bed. The soft green sheets and mix-matched pillowcases went unoccupied. Not because he wasn’t home, but because [Y/N] hated Art so he had to sleep downstairs on the couch.

It wasn’t that she really hated Art. She did hate him right now. Not in a funny way. Their drive home had been silent. Poor Art didn’t know how to facilitate conversation that wouldn’t worsen the situation. His sorrowful eyes, but honest eyes kept glancing from the road to where [Y/N] sat in the passenger seat. The real showdown had started between them something awful when the door to their house slammed shut.

See, Art cried when he got mad. Or sad. Or profoundly excited. Their wedding photos were two-thirds Art crying and trying not to show that he was crying.

Art hadn’t cried tonight yet. That pissed [Y/N] off. She was furious and he seemed to feel absolutely zero discernible feelings about that.

They argued all the time. It rarely lasted all too long.

It was different this time. When [Y/N] started to say something cruel or shout or weep, Art got a little smaller, but he alarmingly stood his ground. He averted his gaze and said “I respectfully disagree,” or “What the fuck do you know about how I feel?” in a dangerously level tone.

Fighting with Art about this wasn’t fun. He was too cool about. He knew he was right. [Y/N] wanted to yell and scream because Art was so relaxed and condescending in his tone. When the man who had spent his teenage years getting referred at competition after competition as literally Ice tonelessly said: “Jesus Christ, aren’t you bored yet? What, going to over-explain the same information to me again, or…?” Finally, that had made [Y/N] drag herself to bed and yank the door closed violently enough that she felt the metallic vibration run all the way up to her shoulder.

And she was still laying there, staring at Art’s side of the bed.

At the Zweig’s party that night, there were a few hot topics in the Donaldsons’ sphere:

1) Lots of congratulations from people that had known them grow up, but hadn’t seen them since the wedding or prior.

This was mostly very kind. It dragged that smirk up Art’s face and caused his fingers to dig tighter into [Y/N]’s waist. That look of pride and tenderness on his face was more than welcome.

2) Lots of questions about Patrick. His lack of attendance was felt.

Both Donaldsons dodged these question as much as they could. Art kept an eye on [Y/N]’s liquor consumption. He knew how embarrassed she would be if she said something she regretted in front of Patrick’s family. Patrick had hurt them both, but Art’s heart went out to [Y/N]. Her world had been built around Patrick’s from a young age. Art was trying to engineer his own world higher around her so she wouldn’t be able to see the old place and people that had burned her over the walls.

3) “You’re married. When are we going to be seeing a little Donaldson running around?”

With Art keeping an eye on [Y/N]’s drinking, she hadn’t really been keeping an eye on him. She just assumed he would keep his shit together. Art drinking in public was never really a concern. He wasn’t a big drinker anyway. At this point, his career mattered more and he was approaching his mid-twenties which made him feel surely less young than he had once. He wasn’t a casual beer guy either. It was Patrick who liked beer and Art who would have a moledo or something sometimes. Art did like white girl drinks, though. Tequila and fruity stuff. He had been able to shoot shot after shot of vodka like a pro in college at a season-end celebration.

Art was a tight-lipped man, but he was a giggly drunk who he got pretty comfortable talking out of his ass from behind a glass with an umbrella in it. Art was rarely comfortable with anything, so a drink or two at a party was welcome to him.

Another important point of context is that the largest point of tension between Art and [Y/N] was starting a family. They desperately wanted a child together, but they disagree on when. [Y/N] felt like she was fresh out of college, so she figured they had plenty of time. Art felt that he was fresh out of college, so he figured they may as well get to it.

Their arguments about this were once semi-regular. In the last four months or so, Art timidly bowed out and hoped [Y/N] would tell him when she was ready (sooner rather than later). He got tired of the low-tier shouting matches. Instead, he would pick fights about things that were decidedly lower stakes when he was bored.

Art had let [Y/N] field comments about family planning throughout the night. Unfortunately, when Art was polishing off a second drink, he ran his mouth a little bit.

Knowing he was the designated driver that night, Art did go easy. Art was also, like, five pounds. While he could hold his liquor with grace, he always got giggly. He watched with heavy eyelids as [Y/N] walked away to collect another drink following the dinner portion of the evening. The paper placecards with their shared last name emblazoned on them rested comfortably in Art’s inner jacket pocket to be kept as a memory.

Some guy who sold boat insurance and liked to rub elbows with talent was talking Art’s ear off. Art couldn’t remember his name, but [Y/N] would know it.

This was the precise moment that got Art in trouble.

Because when the guy whose name Art was sure started with an R said: “So! You’re married. When are we going to be seeing a little Donaldson running around?”

Art said:

“Any day now, I hope. Tomorrow. I’m good to go. [Y/N] thinks now’s not a great time for her.”

He had said it with a smirk and a stupid little laugh. It was basically locker room talk. Big deal. He would’ve said it to Patrick with [Y/N] present in the room. This guy wasn’t Patrick and he was technically speaking behind her back.

Art had forgotten how close they were standing to the bar. He had forgotten that the frequency of his pitchy tenor was known to carry. He had forgotten that he was well known to be an instigator of fights even though he never actually threw the first punch. He had forgotten that he hadn’t been whispering. He had forgotten that this guy… Richy? Ronnie? was pretty much a stranger who had no business knowing their business.

Now, Art was sleeping on the couch and his side of the bed was empty.

Jackass.

[Y/N] stared still at the empty bed and didn’t know how to articulate her upset to an Art who had seemingly yet to feel ashamed.

She had a headache and was tired. But sleep wasn’t going to come easy and all she had to look forward to was a hangover.

Art didn’t really snore, but he was a heavy breather when he slept. The lack of his white noise made the A/C blowing and the stairs creaking too loud. Maybe all of this was on [Y/N] for making Art uncomfortable, she dared to think.

Then she reminded herself that it was Art’s fault for talking too much and for drinking when he knew he was supposed to drive home.

[Y/N] rolled over to face away from Art’s spot. All she could think about is how his hands always sleepily pawed at her to pull her back when she got too far away from him before he fell asleep.

“So, what’d you do?” Patrick asked.

“She hates me.” Art replied. It was almost a question.

“I asked what you did, not what she feels. She already told us what she feels and it’s that she hates you.” Patrick stated. When Patrick had stopped through town for a match, he had come by for dinner with, well, his best friends. This had been right after they’d gotten engaged.

Art sniffled. He didn’t want to cry in front of Patrick. Art would sooner cry in front of his own father. Both men would have laughed in his face, but it would have stung more from Patrick. “We got into a fight yesterday. A big one. Like, the first, uh, big one. She’s worried about the f—“

“The future? Please,” Patrick said bitterly. He frowned and his jaw tightened, but he combatted it by tossing Art a smile before the other man noticed the tension. “Stupid. You’re gonna marry her. You’ll play tennis. She’ll do her… columns? Articles. I don’t get what it is that she does—“

“She writes for—“

“Sure, yeah. You’re gonna have two kids so you can each pick a favorite one. And she’s gonna be a pain in your ass forever. Don’t be a pussy.”

Art sniffled again and stared at the floor. “I didn’t mean to do anything wrong. I didn’t think I did,” Art said meekly. “I don’t get it. She gets so mad sometimes. At me.” Patrick stared at him blankly. Art had to know that he was usually at least a little bit the problem.

“Did she do the thing where she calls you a—“

“Shithead bastard?”

“Shithead bastard.” Both boys said at the same time. Art dragged his hands through his hair and looked up at Patrick. Both of them quirked a smirk at the other.

“See,” Patrick started. “You’ll be fine. Fuckin’ go after her.”

“And say what!”

“Uh… ‘I’m sorry?’ You do that kinda shit. She’ll like that.”

It was impossible to know how long [Y/N] laid there. The clock was on Art’s side and she would get spitting mad if she rolled back over.

She could just go downstairs and tell Art to come back to bed. He was probably sleeping just fine.

“Hey, hon, you don’t hate me, right?” Art’s voice whispered in the darkness.

[Y/N] was fairly certain she had imagined it. She had not heard his sweaty feet on the stairs or his fingers against the doorknob. Quickly, [Y/N] whipped over to face the door behind her.

There was Art. His sweatpants sat low on his hips and his shirt was long gone. Clothing didn’t often survive the night on Art’s back.

Really, she couldn’t help but wonder how long it had taken Art to work through coming upstairs so quietly. “Mm?” [Y/N] groaned in question.

Art rocked his right shoulder into the doorway to lean. His arms were crossed and his eyes straight ahead on her from what [Y/N] could tell in the glow of the hallway’s thermostat. “Please just tell me you don’t hate me and I’ll let you go back to sleep. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

With a sigh, [Y/N] sat up and rolled her cracking shoulders back. “I don’t hate you, Art.” Her heart melted a little bit. [Y/N] knew it was immature, but her special attack in arguments since childhood was to bandy around the word hate a lot. Not that she had said it to Art tonight, but she had no doubt said it before. More than once. More times than she could count, maybe.

She was surprised Art had never asked this before. That surprise hurt in an a way that was too complex to describe. “I could never hate you.” [Y/N] continued, voice hushed only because it was dark out.

Art’s posture relaxed slightly. “You promise you don’t?” Said Art’s evermore crippling lack of self-confidence.

“I promise.” [Y/N] replied calmly.

“Okay. Thank you.” Art said in a small voice.

“I love you, baby. I don’t hate you. You shouldn’t have to ask that. I’m sorry I made you feel like you even have to ask that.”

Art frowned sharply. “No, I’m the one that should be sorry. You told me nicely not to talk about—“

“Don’t play that. You have to know you don’t feel like you did anything wrong, so you don’t have to invent a situation where you’re some horrible person.”

Art was silent.

[Y/N] continued. “I’m pissed because you told Randy,” RANDY. His name was RANDY. That’s it. “Our business. My business, really. He’s an asshole. It’s fine. Well, not now, but eventually. But you kinda martyred yourself on it. You don’t have to do that and I don’t hate you. You know I don’t… Right?”

“I’m sorry.” Art said quickly. He was gifted at making every single minor problem his own fault. He knew he was a little bit of an awful person for that, but he would die before admitting it. Art would hide behind his martyring habit as long as his cross could hold him, though. [Y/N] hadn’t noticed before this moment, but she could see the shining of his eyes in the digital blue-green glow. Tears. This time, less than obvious waterworks. Aw.

“I’m sorry. I’m still pissed at you for running your mouth, but I’m sorry too.”

Art nodded, said nothing else and reached for the doorknob.

Here is a frustrating thing about Art.

He said he was going to leave for downstairs once [Y/N] said she didn’t hate him. He started to make good on that vow. If he says something, he’s going to do it, even though he doesn’t have to do it.

“Come on,” [Y/N] called louder than she’d been whispering. “Come here, pretty baby.”

Pretty Baby by Blondie had been their wedding song. She had been calling him that for almost as long as she had known him. Saying it, or hearing the song always made that stunning, small crooked smile stretch up beyond his sad puppy eyes all the way to his ears.

Art’s kryptonite was pretty baby. They both knew it.

He turned to look at her with a slight blush on his cheeks, almost visible in the dark. Art shifted one of his feet childishly over the other in apprehension.. “Don’t make me say it again. I don’t like to ask twice.” [Y/N] reminded him.

After a hasty nod, Art was in bed before he [Y/N] blinked. The blonde sat bolt upright beside [Y/N] with his eyes wide. Hesitant, but coyly so. He knew this pattern. The agony and shame from her brutality would only last so long. Housepets loved to cause trouble for treat.

Not to say that Art liked to start fights so he could play some low-status lapdog that got to feel his wife’s fingers comb through his hair the way he liked as a reward for an apology. The man bit his cheek to avoid a devious smirk. A part of him did like to do that sometimes, though.

He always got away with it. He was such a nice boy.

[Y/N] rolled her eyes and leaned back into the threadbare pillows. With a finger, she beckoned Art nearer. Hesitation eliminated, Art flopped slowly down beside [Y/N]; she on her back, he on his side, facing her. Delicately, Art’s fingers dragged down [Y/N]’s arm to curl in her fingers.

Not long after that, his plush mouth climbed down from her neck. Then shoulders and collarbones. Then bicep. Elbow. Forearm and wrist. Down her hand to her silver-studded ring finger. Each kiss with accompanied with an honest and dutiful I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. He was sorry. Genuinely. Sorry for the upset he brought his wife, but not the cause. Art’s beautiful duel-colored eyes glanced up at [Y/N]’s blown pupils through her own fingers.

“I didn’t mean to talk about you like that… I just… I love you so much that I want more of you. That’s all, honey,” Art laid his head on [Y/N]’s upper chest and his mouth moved against the front of her throat. “I’m just a little stupid, huh…”

Under his lips, Art could feel the rumble of a laugh rip through [Y/N]’s throat. Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair to hold him in place. “Do-don’t talk about yourself like that,” she mumbled and gave his hair a lovely tug with both hands. He whimpered. [Y/N] wanted to bottle that sound. Art would always remember what she said next and how she said it: “Only I get to talk about you like that… St-stupid.”

This was the version of [Y/N] he was going to remember when he thought of her every day for the rest of his life. That sentence, the way her hair hung from where he had pushed it away from her neck. The sting of the cold metal from her wedding ring on the back of his neck and the stone of her engagement ring pressing into where he reached his palm to place his hand over hers. There was just the wrong amount of clothes between them. Her eyes ringed smoky from the makeup smudges and the exhaustion.

“Say it again.” Art whispered, swinging a knee over [Y/N]’s thighs so he could stare down at her. His forehead pressed softly against [Y/N]’s.

[Y/N]’s mouth fell open slightly with a breathy exhalation. Holy shit. “What, pretty baby, you want me to tell you how stupid you are? You like that?” [Y/N] almost whispered into Art’s still lips. He was too shocked to kiss her back, but too turned on to pull away. Art whimpered louder than before. [Y/N] felt him nod.

So she didn’t hold back. “You think I need to punish you after you behaved like that today or something? You need to atone for what a moron you were, shithead?” [Y/N] kept her tone light enough to just about tease as her nose trailed along the side of his. Her objective was to belittle. Her nails slid down Art’s muscular, sturdy back.

They both knew Art was a masochist on his worst days. Did he get off on being degraded sometimes? Sure. But this series of events was ridiculously new and exciting for [Y/N]. And shockingly obviously for Art too.

His hips pressed into her pathetically. “What? Did you need help with something?” She asked innocently when she felt Art’s hard-on against her thigh. [Y/N] kissed him distractingly warmly for how she was treating him. Art’s head spun and he couldn’t seem to make sense of anything anymore. He had backed himself into the best kind of corner.

Across Art’s hips and side went [Y/N]’s left hand, to the front of his sweatpants. Humiliatingly, Art blinked tears out of his eyes and screwed them shut. His mouth opened and closed, but no intelligent sound came out. [Y/N] planted a kiss at the corner of his parted lips. His strong arms boxed [Y/N] protectively in from above, but she had him locked into place, really. “Baby, if you want something, you know you have to ask for it.”

“Nnh,” Art tried, eyes stuck shut. His attention was mostly spent hold himself up over his wife. His insanely gorgeous wife. [Y/N]’s other hand grabbed his jaw tenderly. He still didn’t look at her. Art was gathering his courage. “Yo-you already told me I couldn’t have what I wanted.”

With a sharp inhale, [Y/N] grip went from gentle to nonexistent. At the lack of contact, Art’s damp eyes crept open one at a time to see if his brattiness had overstepped the situation. His frightened eyes caught [Y/N]’s. She popped the side of his face sharply with an open palm. Art blinked and tipped his head to the side like a dog.

That was big trouble, huh?

“Fuck,” he said. Both of them panted in sync. “I’m sorry.” He meant it.

[Y/N] pulled Art’s face to hers and kissed him hard. “I love… you.” She said.

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (28/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Your pillow is comfortable - just like Charles' lap.

Warnings: 18+ (dry humping, mentions of sex), fluff, tiny bit of angst, Lando is a little shit

Word Count: 4.5k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: since you were all so patient with me - you deserve this. I hope you're sat, because y/n definitely is. feedback is appreciated!

"Good morning, mon amour," Charles whispers softly in your ear before you feel a faint puff of air against your cheek. Something soft and warm presses gently against your temple. "It's still quite early. You can go back to sleep if you want to." He rests his chin on your shoulder and you feel his chest against your back. "I'd like to go jogging, if that's okay with you."

Sleepy - and confused - you snuggle further into your comfy pillow. It's still dark in the room, but through the window you can already see the horizon changing color and announcing a new day. You yawn tiredly and close your eyes again. "You're waking me up to tell me you're going jogging? Are you crazy? Couldn't you have just written me a note or a text?"

Charles exhales through his nose. "I'm sorry, chérie. There was no other way. I have an appointment with my trainer and I'm already late." He gently puts his hand on your bare hip, where the shirt has ridden up and exposed a sliver of your skin. "All you have to do is let go of my arm and then I'll be gone and you can go back to sleep."

Your pillow moves almost imperceptibly beneath you and you raise your head to examine it, puzzled. You realize that you have been lying on Charles' arm and your hand has found its place on his forearm. You suppress a smile as you lie back down and press your cheek into the soft inside of his upper arm. "Nope. Unfortunately not possible. I'm afraid your arm is too comfortable for me to let you go right now."

Charles's fingers press a little harder into your hip, but his arm stays in place. "I won't be long. I promise." 

Drowsy and not fully conscious, you turn in his arms and lift your leg, only to wrap it around his waist and press yourself against him. The tip of your nose touches his bare chest. "You said yesterday that we would continue to share a bed so that I could sleep better. So you have no choice but to stay here with me." As you absentmindedly kiss his chest and press your hip against yours, you feel warm.

Charles laughs softly, but doesn't disagree with you. Instead, his arms wrap around you a little tighter. The hand that was on your hip a moment ago slides up your spine under your shirt. His fingertips dance over your warm skin until his hand rests gently on the nape of your neck, where it lingers lightly. "As far back as I can remember, I said I'd hold you in my arms if it meant you'd sleep better."

You gently lift your head from his chest so that you can look at him. Charles' eyes are closed, but a slight smile pulls the corners of his mouth upwards. "You do realize that you're digging yourself in deeper, don't you?"

He slowly opens his eyes and looks down at you. Without hesitation, he rolls you onto your back. You feel his weight on top of you as his hand disappears from your neck and rests against your thigh, keeping your leg wrapped around his waist. "How silly. Looks like I've lost now." 

His weight on you, his warm breath on your face and his fingertips disappearing under the hem of your shorts cloud your thoughts. You look at him from under your eyelashes and have to swallow as his gaze darts from your eyes to your mouth and back up again. "How silly."

He opens his mouth slightly and he's so close to you that you can make out the different shades of green in his irises despite the darkness. His beard shades his beautiful face and you want to rub your cheek against it. Or feel the stubble on your thighs. Or - 

Charles leans so far down towards you that the tips of your noses touch. As he licks his lips, you think you can feel his tongue on your mouth. But maybe you're just too tired and imagining it. "I'd love to stay in this bed with you forever," Charles whispers, and as his fingers slide a little higher under your shorts, almost touching the curve of your ass, you involuntarily arch up towards him. Just as you think you can feel the hardness of his abdomen, he pushes himself off the bed with his other hand and pulls away. "But I really need to go jogging." A brief moment later, he stands in front of the bed and scratches the back of his neck. "I thought I might go grocery shopping afterwards. Just text me if you think of anything else you might need." 

Distracted by the warmth in your lower belly, you stare at him as he slips into the sports shorts you were wearing yesterday morning. His smell clings to you and you can't think straight as he sits down on the edge of the bed to pull white tennis socks over his feet. You push the covers off you and crawl across the bed to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Your hands rest on his warm chest. "You're mean, Charles." You brush a kiss on the soft skin under his ear and can feel his heart skip a beat.

He pauses in his movement. "You haven't called me that in days." He tilts his head a little so he can look at you. 

Puzzled, you return his gaze. "What do you mean? I always call you Charles."

Slowly, his fingers wrap around your wrists so that he can wriggle out of your embrace. But only so that his arm can wrap around your waist and he can pull you onto his lap. As you sit astride his thighs, he cups your chin with his thumb and forefinger so you have no choice but to look at him. 

He shakes his head slightly. "You called me Charles. English pronunciation. You've been calling me Charles since we had dinner with the others the other night."

You raise an eyebrow and squirm on his legs under his unyielding gaze. "And what did I call you now?"

"Sharl. French pronunciation." A glint sparkles in his eyes. 

"Is that good? Or bad?" you ask unknowingly and innocently, running your fingers through the short hair on the back of his neck. 

"What do you think?" His voice is no more than a whisper as his other arm wraps around your back and pulls you completely onto his lap so that you can barely move. Once again, his fingers slip just below the hem of your pajama shorts, fingertips almost digging into your flesh as he presses your crotch against his noticeable bulge. So hard that you might end up with bruises on your hips. But you don't care. You gasp in response. "Do I like this or not?"

The warmth that was previously spread throughout your body moves south, and you feel your arousal pooling in your shorts. The word friendship flashes faintly in your mind, but as Charles gently but firmly moves you over his hard-on and a low moan escapes his throat, you can't help but block it out completely. 

"Charles," you almost whine as you rock your hips back and forth without a thought and the tip of his brief-clad cock nudges against your clit. Electricity flashes through your veins and your skin burns where Charles touches you and you close your eyes, flushed with pleasure. 

"Nuh-uh." Charles's hand moves from your chin to the column of your throat and rests just at the base of your neck. "Look at me, mon amour." His voice is deep and smoky as he makes you look into his eyes. Through half-opened eyes and with his mouth open, he grinds you over his boner, his breath stumbling and warming your face as you can do nothing but surrender to the sensation. 

Never in your life have you desired someone as much as Charles. Charles, exhaling as if relieved that he can release some tension, while your fingers dig into his shoulder blades to make sure he doesn't stop. The hem of your pyjamas and his boxer shorts rub so deliciously against your bundle of nerves and you moan shamelessly as the gorgeous man beneath you bites his lower lip, wishing it was yours he was nibbling on. 

"Charles, please," you beg, even though you don't know what for. You want his fingers on your throat, his mouth on yours. You want to feel how soft his lips are as he slides his cock home until you fall apart on him. You want to hear him say how good you feel, how much he desires you and that he lo-

"Fuck," Charles snaps you out of your thoughts, and before you can realize it, he releases his arm from your body and leans to the side, where his phone is on the edge of the bed, ringing. 

When you see the panic in his eyes, you quickly slide off his lap and cover yourself with the blanket again. All of a sudden you feel vulnerable and naked, even though you're still wearing the shirt and shorts. You interlace your fingers in your lap. 

"I'm sorry, Andrea." Charles tucks his cell phone between his ear and shoulder as he slips on the turquoise Puma shirt you were wearing yesterday morning. He lifts the hem once and smells it, and for a brief moment his eyes flicker to you before he hurries out of the room, leaving you alone in the bedroom. You hear him continuing to talk in the hallway.

Startled and a little repulsed, you sit on the bed. How did you let it get this far? Charles is your best friend - a fact you told Joris and which was later confirmed to you in person by your roommate. 

So why did you just fall over each other like teenagers who can't keep their hands off each other when no one is looking? Why did you allow yourselves to dry hump each other when you are nothing more than friends? Why did everything Charles did and said turn you on so much that the inside of your thighs are sticky with your arousal? And why did it feel so damn right?

You run your hand through your tousled hair. You've never felt anything like you have in the last few minutes. You've never desired someone as much as the man whose touch made you turn to putty in his hands. As if your brain had been switched off, you gave yourself to him without thinking about what the consequences might be. 

What would happen now? Would Charles still talk to you? Would you talk about it? Would it happen again? 

Before you can think about it any more, Charles enters the bedroom again. His feet are now in sneakers and he has put on a jacket over his shirt. When he sees you sitting at the head of the bed, the comforter thrown over you and with big, worried eyes, his gaze softens. He crosses the room in three steps and sits on the edge of the bed with you before reaching for yours with one hand and intertwining your fingers. 

"We're okay, aren't we?" he asks gently, lifting your chin with his free hand as you try to avoid his gaze. When you look at him, the sparkle from a moment ago is still there. "I - I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let it get this far. We're friends and the last thing I want is to lose you over this." He almost stumbles over his words when you don't say anything back. "We're still friends, aren't we?" You can see tears gathering on the line of his eyelashes. 

You are so relieved that you want to hug him. You smile at him. "Of course we're friends, Charles. Best friends," you assure him, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. "There's nothing that could change that."

The man in front of you blinks away the tears and returns your smile before squeezing your hand twice. "I really have to go now. Like I said, if you need anything from the supermarket, please text me. Then I can pick it up for you." He releases his hand from yours and stands up from the bed. "See you later." He leans forward a tiny bit and you can practically see the gears in his brain turning until he merely smiles at you and then disappears. As the apartment door slams shut behind him, you exhale. 

Everything's fine between you, you tell yourself as you unplug your phone from the charger and glance at the clock. 9:30 am. You could go back to bed and sleep, but as you lay your head on the pillow, the smell of last night's smoke creeps into your nose. The whole bed smells like a campfire, and your skin and hair smell like you've been wallowing in ashes, so you decide to wash the sheets and jump in the shower. 

The washing machine makes a gentle whirring sound as you switch it on and then head to the fridge to prepare yourself a little breakfast. However, when you realize that there is nothing in the fridge that would be suitable, you hang your head in resignation. Apparently, the ingredients Charles used for the pancakes yesterday were the very last leftovers, so the fridge is empty apart from a pickle jar and a few bottles of water. 

Without further ado, you shoot Charles a text to ask him to bring something for breakfast before you gather your bathroom utensils from your suitcase in the bedroom, undress in the bathroom and set the water in the shower to the right temperature. Since you have some time before Charles returns from his jog and the supermarket, you take all the time in the world. You shampoo your hair and rinse it thoroughly before leaving a generous amount of conditioner in your hair. Meanwhile, you exfoliate your body, shave carefully - and actually manage not to cut your knuckles. The lavender and vanilla shower gel soothes your frayed nerves, while you keep telling yourself that everything is fine between you and Charles, like you talked about. 

You banish the feeling that his every touch felt good and right to the back of your mind and as you turn off the water and wrap yourself in a soft towel, it's almost as if nothing ever happened between you. 

You focus on the fact that you have to look good today, because you are invited to Charles' mother's for dinner later, so you spend a lot of time taming your hair and picking out a nice outfit. You decide on a pair of dark jeans and a light blouse and button up the last button as your cell phone beeps on the kitchen island. 

Charles: No problem. I think I'll be home in an hour. It'll be too late for a proper breakfast then, but how about some fruit and yogurt?

And indeed. It's now just after 12 o'clock and the washing machine seems to be doing its last spin cycle, because its humming gets louder before it goes quiet and only beeps a few times. You quickly put the wet bed sheets in the dryer before answering Charles.

You: You're the best. See you soon.

While you wait for your roommate to come home, you rummage through the things Kika picked out yesterday and scatter them around the apartment. You put the fake plants on the windowsill in your room and place a vase on the worktop in the kitchen. Then grab some picture frames and stand in the hallway to find out which places on the wall are suitable for which frame. Charles is sure to have enough beautiful photos from all over the world to decorate your home, because unfortunately you don't yet have any pictures together that you could hang on the wall. But that's okay. After all, you've only been friends for a few days. 

When the front door opens a short time later, two men are standing opposite you, one of whom - thank God - is Charles. When he sees you, a smile spreads across his face. 

"We've done some shopping," he explains, lifting the bags he's holding in his hands. Then he looks at the man next to him. "This is Andrea, by the way, my personal trainer and close friend." He walks towards you and briefly looks you up and down. "You look good," he says casually as he walks past you and glances over his shoulder. "Come on, Andrea. The stuff needs to go in the fridge. 

"Don't stress me out like that," the man in front of you replies, rolling his eyes in an annoyed manner. "I'm Andrea, nice to meet you." He places one of his bags on the floor before holding out his hand to you. 

You introduce yourself to him too and shake his hand. " Likewise. I wasn't expecting you to bring half the supermarket with you," you joke, reaching for the bag he's put down before you both head towards the kitchen. 

"Me neither," Andrea replies, shrugging her shoulders. "Charles insisted because he didn't want you to want for anything. Now that you live here too."

"Andrea," Charles warns his friend as he puts the milk and eggs in the fridge. 

"Don't play pretend," he defends himself and puts his bag down on the worktop. "I'm just repeating what you said." He takes your plastic bag from you and puts it on the worktop too. "I'll leave you two alone then. After all, you've got a lot to do today." He turns in your direction and smiles at you before planting a kiss on your cheek left and right. "It was nice meeting you, but I'm afraid I have to go. But I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other."

"I guess so."

He nods briefly, turning to your roommate. "And you let me know about the trip. Then I can arrange everything."

Charles, who is putting food in the fridge with a concentration as if he were taking part in a Tetris competition, waves his hand once in the direction of his trainer. "I will. Ciao!"

Andrea leaves your apartment as quickly as he had arrived, and as the door slams shut behind him, you turn to your friend. "A trip? Where are you off to?"

"I have to go through a training camp to prepare for next season. But I'll tell you about that later." After he's put everything away neatly, he closes the fridge and turns in your direction. "I've just spoken to my mother on the phone. Dinner will be around seven, but we can come over before that, before my brothers show up, if you don't mind." He grabs a glass from the cupboard and pours himself some water before taking a big gulp. "So I'd just jump in the shower and get ready. And then we can go as soon as you're ready."

You smile at him. "All right. Do you still want to eat something small? Then I could cut up some fruit and prepare some yoghurt if you like," you offer. 

He nods thankfully to you before pulling his shirt over his back and off his upper body in one fluid motion. The workout has made his muscles look even more defined than usual. Not that you waste much time staring at his naked torso. 

"That would be nice. I'll just jump in the shower," he says before disappearing into the bathroom. As he turns on the shower, you hear the water hitting the floor. 

You're a little surprised that your little session doesn't seem to be having any effect. The worries you had that the atmosphere between you might now be strained fizzle out and the only thing that remains is the bitter aftertaste that Charles doesn't seem to be bothered by the fact that you were dry humping as friends and there was a possibility that your friendship had come to an end. 

Does it really not affect him that you were both playing with fire a few hours ago? Or is he just good at covering it up and acting as if nothing had happened?

But when you remember how upset he was sitting next to you on the bed afterwards, with tears in his eyes for fear of losing you as a friend, the negative thoughts disappear from your mind. He probably wants to put the whole thing behind him because it would really bother him if you were no longer friends. 

And since you feel the same way, you cut up some fruit without giving it a second thought until your cell phone, which is lying on the kitchen island in front of you, vibrates. An incoming Facetime call from - Lando? 

Why is he calling you? And especially on Facetime? Has something happened to him? Does he need help?

You quickly put the knife aside and wipe your hands on a kitchen towel before answering the call. When the British man's face appears on your screen, you breathe a sigh of relief. He's apparently lying on the couch at home, the hood of his hoodie pulled up over his curls and a broad grin adorning his face. 

"Hi, Lando," you greet him and lean your phone against the vase so that you can continue preparing the fruit. "What can I do for you?"

"Is Charles with you?" he asks as you turn around and take two bowls from the cupboard behind you to divide the fruit halfway between them. 

"He's in the shower," you reply, tilting your head. " Why? Did something happen?"

"No, everything's fine," he says and smiles. "I was just trying to reach him on his cell phone. But when he is taking a shower, it's obvious that he won't answer." 

"'Who's not answering?" you hear Charles say as he leaves the bathroom wrapped in a towel. Single drops of water snake across his chest and down the ridges of his abs before disappearing into the fabric of the towel, which hangs quite low on his hips. You have to swallow briefly and just point at your cell phone. When Charles comes into Lando's field of vision, he nods briefly. "Sorry, I was in the shower. Have you tried to call me?"

Lando, blinking silently at the camera, nods. "Uh, yeah. I wanted to invite you both to a party. After Christmas." He struggles to suppress a smile, and even though the screen is so small, you can see his gaze jump from Charles to you. "My friend Martin is coming here to DJ at a club. If you're up for it, you're both welcome to come."

Charles, who is standing to the side behind you, rests his chin on your shoulder. After this morning, you didn't expect to find Charles back in your personal space so quickly. Whether he realizes you're holding your breath, you don't know. "I don't see what's wrong with that, do you?" The question is directed at you. As you shake your head weakly, your roommate smiles at the camera and puts his hand on your hip. "Then we're definitely in." Suddenly, you feel Charles' lips on your temple as he presses a gentle kiss to your skin. "I'm just going to get ready." With that, he disappears from Lando's sight and, as he enters your bedroom, from yours too.

The way Lando's eyes widen briefly doesn't escape you. "Great. Then I'll put you on the guest list and send you the details." As your gaze shifts from your room back to the Brit, Lando looks back at you with a grin that almost reaches his ears. 

"Lando," you warn him in the same tone Charles just used with Andrea. "Leave it alone."

"I didn't say anything," he defends himself, but the grin doesn't disappear from his face. You'd love to wipe it off his cheek. "So, are you two - ?"

You roll your eyes. "We're friends, Lando. Nothing more, nothing less," you explain to him, but you seem to be falling on deaf ears, because the Brit doesn't seem to believe a word you're saying. 

"Friends with benefits? Or why did Charles just behave like that?"

"What do you mean, like that?" you ask him, tilting your head in confusion. To keep your hands busy, you fill the bowls of fruit with yogurt and add some sweetener before stirring everything. 

"So possessive. So jealous," he explains, as if it's no big deal. Which it certainly wouldn't have been if it hadn't been for this morning's action. 

"You don't know what you're talking about," you retort snappishly, your mouth forming a thin line. "Sorry, that's not what I meant."

"It's all cool. But if you get married, I'll be the guest of honor as matchmaker," he replies, before holding his phone close to his face and grinning broadly at the camera. "And then I'll give a speech about how stupid you both were at the beginning because you didn't want to admit that you were meant to be together."

When you hear Charles' footsteps in the hallway, you quickly reach for your cell phone. "Lando."

"I'm just saying, friends don't look at each other the way you look at him. And that friends don't act as possessive as he does." He raises his free hand, puts his thumb and forefinger together before pulling it over his mouth and pretending to seal his lips with it. "I'm not saying anything more about it."

"Who says no more to what?" Charles asks as he enters the kitchen. 

"Nobody to anything anymore. Bye, Lando," you quickly say goodbye and end the Facetime call, knowing full well that you're sure to get a few more messages from the Brit lovingly mocking you. 

"Oh-kay." Charles sits down opposite you at the kitchen islands and grabs one of the yogurt bowls. You watch him as he shoves spoonful after spoonful into his mouth. "Everything all right?"

"Everything's fine," you reply with a sugary smile and start spooning up your yoghurt too. "I'm just nervous about meeting your mom. I hope she'll like me," you try to change the subject. 

"She definitely will," your flatmate tries to reassure you. "Just be yourself and then she'll love you. And so will my brothers." He reaches across the worktop for your hand and squeezes it twice. "Loving you is easier than you might think."

[reareaotaku]

True Hate-filled Love

Summary: You hate Five and he hates you, but maybe with one simple agreement you can see one another from the other's view Pairings: Five Hargreeves x Reader Tw: Enemies to Lovers, Klaus shenanigans, Ganging-up on Klaus/Clowning Five, Klaus was a flat-earther???? [Since Umbrella Academy is trending and the new season was ass, I'll give you something better written than the whole season]

You and Five never agreed on anything. If you said the sky was blue or that the grass was green, he would disagree with you and vice versa. Even if the other agreed, your pride was too high to admit that maybe the other person was right. It was one of the flaws you both shared, along with your mutual hatred for each other. Though, maybe you didn't hate each other as much as you thought.

It all started one afternoon, when you and Five were sitting in the kitchen in quiet; For the first time ever. Unluckily for you both, Klaus was more than happy to ruin the peace you both had created with each other for the first time since knowing each other.

You ignored his presence at first because you didn't want to give him much thought. That was until he said something so incredibly stupid that you had to sit up and look at Five to make sure he heard it too. Five was already looking at Klaus like he was the dumbest person in the world.

"God, I wonder how often you were dropped on your head as a baby."

"More like thrown into a wall," You joke, causing Five to let out a chuckle.

"Knowing our father, he probably was."

"You two aren't funny," Klaus complains.

"And you're an idiot. What's your point?" You remark, not taking him seriously at all.

"It was just a question."

"One so stupid, that Y/n and I are in agreement for once in our lives."

"How stupid do you have to be for that?"

Klaus groans, rolling his eyes, "You know what, it's not even that big of a deal. It doesn't matter. It's like when you argued with me about the world not being flat."

"You think that world's flat?" You asked, clearly taken a back.

Klaus rolls his eyes, shaking his head, as he lets out a chuckle, "Of course not."

"Oh yeah," Five says, laughing as he leans into it. "You should of been there, you would have loved it."

"God, I can't even imagine how that went down."

"Not well."

"Oh, so you two are now buddy buddy? Gross," Klaus looks away from you both. "You'll be back to fighting in like five minutes."

"With you around? I might actually start to like Five more than you."

"That bar can't be very high," Five jokes, causing you to high-five him.

"Not at all."

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

October 21 - Ruined Orgasm

pairing: dom!Wanda x sub!Reader

summary: Wanda punishes you by controlling your orgasm... then ruining it.

content warnings: restraints, vibrator

word count: 1.1k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

“Wanda I swear to god-”

A laugh sounds out from behind you, and you sag slightly in your restraints as the vibrator pressed against you turns off. You’re standing, tied spread eagle to an x-cross, your hole leaking down against the toy. 

“Oh my poor pet,” Wanda says, her voice amused as she circles back around you. “If you want something you should ask nicely.”

Leaning in, she licks a long, wet strip from your collarbones to your ear, collecting your sweat on her tongue. You can’t help but shudder at the feeling, wanting her to touch you more. Her hands gently stroke your damp skin, her fingernails dragging over your trembling stomach and up to your hard nipples, tugging slightly and smiling at your responding groan. 

“You’ve been keeping me on edge for… hours,” you say, your voice strained as Wanda turns the vibrator on again. It’s on the lowest setting this time, your clit throbbing furiously at the stimulation. 

“And I’ll keep you like this for as long as I want,” Wanda’s voice is suddenly cold, and your eyes widen. “Remind me, pet. Why am I doing this?”

You open your mouth to speak right as Wanda turns the vibrator up again. A choked moan comes out instead of words, and you see Wanda smirk slightly. Her fingers tap your lips, a silent reminder to answer her question.

“You’re doing this because-”

“Ah ah,” she chides, turning the vibrator up again. “Use a proper sentence, I didn’t spend all that time training you just for you to forget it as soon as your slutty little brain turns off.”

You let out a whimper at that, fighting against the fuzziness threatening to overtake you as pleasure courses through you. Your words are slurred slightly together as you speak, your voice strained. “Mommy is punishing me because I broke a rule and came without permission this morning.”

“Exactly,” Wanda purrs, her hands gentle as they tease your nipples. “And Mommy was so nice this morning, letting you hump her thigh all sleepy. But you had to go and ruin it like a brat. Did I not train you well enough?”

“No,” your voice is slightly desperate now. “You trained me well I just… it was my fault, not yours. I just wasn’t thinking… getting too needy and forgetting my place.”

A wide smile breaks out on Wanda’s face. “That’s right,” she coos, her hand gently cupping your cheek. “You just need Mommy to do all the thinking for you, huh? Mommy is in charge of all your orgasms, so she’ll have to be stricter about when she lets you cum, isn’t that right?”

You nod, not quite knowing what she means but not wanting to disagree with her. 

“Good, because Mommy always knows what's best, doesn’t she?”

Nodding again, you watch her with wide eyes. You can feel an orgasm rising, and hold yourself extra still so she doesn’t notice. 

“Use your words.” Her voice is sharp. 

“Yes Mommy,” you speak hurriedly, noticing the way she glances down toward your hips. “You always know what’s best.”

Wanda doesn’t respond, simply nodding and turning the vibrator up a bit higher. Her fingers lightly trail over your stomach, feeling your muscles clenching in anticipation. Green eyes lock with yours, her eyebrows raising as she leans in, her lips mere inches from yours. 

“Beg.”

You let out a moan, your muscles beginning to shake. “Please, please let me cum. I need it, I-”

Cutting yourself off, you try to rut harder against the vibrator, feeling your orgasm coming quickly. It’s seconds away, you just need two… more…

Wanda turns the vibrator off, pulling it away from your hips as you groan in frustration. She smiles at you, the look in her eyes dark as she watches you pant as your pleasure fades. 

“You’ll have to do better than that,” she says, placing the vibrator back against your sensitive, aching clit. It feels even better than before, your hole leaking around the toy as Wanda begins to press it further against you. The pressure only serves to elevate the vibrations, making your nerves feel like they’ve been set on fire. 

You begin to speak again, but before you can get any words out, Wanda shoves her fingers in your mouth. The weight of them presses against your tongue, and you obediently close your lips around them and begin to suck. 

“I love it when you get like this,” Wanda murmurs, her eyes intensely focused on your face. She watches your eyes as they begin to glaze over, the vibrations increasing steadily against your most sensitive parts. “So obedient, so docile for me.”

The only thing you can do is moan in agreement. You love it when she treats you like this, when you get so needy and submissive that you become completely reliant on Wanda. The only thing on your mind is your orgasm, and you love that she has control over if and when you get to come. 

“Do you want to cum, baby?” Wanda’s voice is low and soothing. Her green eyes are warm when you manage to make eye contact. 

Nodding quickly, you moan around her fingers as she begins thrusting them in and out of your mouth. The vibrator speeds up, the stimulation feeling perfect against you. The feeling of your orgasm looms, and you resist the urge to hump the toy like before, knowing that Wanda would disapprove. 

Smiling, Wanda turns the vibrator all the way up, loving the way you throw your head back and groan. You’re close, she can tell, but she doesn’t want you to get the satisfaction of an orgasm. No, she wants you to truly suffer, to truly understand how bad it was to cum without her permission. She wants to show you the kind of power she holds when she controls your orgasms. 

“Cum for Mommy,” she murmurs, her fingers flexing around the toy. She presses it hard against you, your clit throbbing and aching, the pleasure building up and up and up…

Your orgasm hits, your clit throbbing against the vibrator as you begin to spasm. As soon as the pleasure begins to pour through you, Wanda rips the toy away, stepping back. 

She watches with sadistic glee as you squirm and thrash in your restraints, your clit throbbing uselessly as your orgasm is ruined. You leak down your inner thighs, tears of frustration running down your face. All pleasure fades, your body tired from the hours of build-up, only to have it ruined at the last second. 

“That was fun,” Wanda says, and you scowl in disagreement. “Ah ah, no more attitude from you, darling. You just earned yourself another ruined orgasm.”

Another one?

Fuck.

[ventique18]

So the floor opens to suggestions for Halloween. Skully, being the eager beaver he is, presents "their" idea of what Halloween means. (Their because he ain't reading the others' worthless opinions of course)

"Silent. Simple. Modest. THIS IS HALLOWEEN!"

So of course, everyone is shocked. What is this nutjob even saying?

Jack is surprised, but being the gentleman he is, encourages Skully that that is interesting and if he could explain further. So he does.

First of all, silent. True silence and desolation, where you could hear every beat of your heart, is where true fear lies.

But Jade disagrees.

Jade: "So as to properly convey the spirit of Halloween, the fright and fun of it both, you simply can't do without music."

Jade: "Music stirs up the fear that makes you tremble and the excitement that makes you want to dance."

Jack agrees but Skully finds it ridiculous.

Skully: "I beg to disagree! Dancing is naught but tomfoolery-- I hardly think that is appropriate for Halloween! Such noises are against the spirit of Halloween!"

Jack thinks to himself, then encourages Skully to proceed to his next point.

So he discusses Halloween is "simple." Decorations can be gaudy and Vil agrees that there is beauty in simplicity. Skully then proposes that decorations should be removed completely and that rooms should be painted in all black to simulate the night. Then you will feel the creeping fear when there is NOTHING but darkness around you...

So Vil FUMES because how DARE Skully suggest having just ONE color?!

Vil: "DON'T EVEN JOKE WITH ME!"

Epel chimes in and says colors make the spirit, so even better if they include ALL 7 COLORS IN NEON. Vil tells him his tastes are also shit.

Malleus: "It is Halloween, after all. As Schoenheit mentioned, some people might find it tasteless to clad everything in only one color."

Malleus: "For the past 100 years or so, Halloween has been popularly celebrated with incorporations of bright colors such as purple, orange, or bright green.

Malleus: "I, too, am of the opinion that the decorations should be spectacular. Merely using black is not enough."

Azul: "If even Malleus who lives in that dreary, prison-like dormitory agrees, then that must mean this is an important point indeed..!"

Leona: "What he says. That's just how special Halloween is."

Y'ALL BULLYING MALLEUS FOR NO REASON 😂

[redflagshipwriter]

Check Yes (to go on a date with a dead guy)

Chapter 1

The expectant smiles froze on his siblings’ faces.

Jason blinked, still shaking off the disorientation of the green twisting blur that always came when he took his turn with tHe RitUaL. “What?” he said. It came out defensive. Usually they were all laughing by this point.

Dick reached out and took the post-it off his forehead. “We may have misunderstood this sacrificial thing.” He frowned at the note.

Jason tore it away and flipped it around to read it.

“...Please stop the bridal sacrifices,” he read, voice instantly trembling with the need to laugh. Holy shit. “Proposal is kinda forward. But if you really want, I’d totally go on a date with you. Check yes or no. Danny.” There were two smiley faces after the name and a scribbled drawing of a human looking guy with tall hair.

The batcave was in total, mortified silence. The ritual that had become their pre-patrol goof-off activity of choice had maybe… maybe been a mistake?

“I’m kinda hurt,” Dick broke the silence. “I’m marriageable. I’m a catch, even.” He was joking, but Jason was pretty sure that it wasn’t totally baseless. Who would look at Dick and then choose Jason, of all the people?

Stephanie snorted. “It’s probably your reputation as Ritchie Rich,” she soothed. “I’m sure if this… is it the same guy every time?” She blinked, clearly distracted from her original thought. “Have we all been proposing to Danny day after day?” She wondered. She started counting on her fingers.

“Twice last week,” Tim said thoughtfully. “I proposed to him twice last week.” A line formed between his brows. “I should probably tell Bernard, huh?”

“We must communicate with whoever this Danny is,” Damian said immediately. “If this realm possesses both animal life that resembles our fauna and sentient beings capable of the bad judgment necessary to select Todd as a suitor over Richard, we must know more.”

Jason made a face at Damian and flipped him off, but didn’t disagree. “How is this supposed to work?” He waved the post-it. That did imply some modernity, at least. They were communicating with someone who had stationary. “If I was going to check it, would he know what I picked? Or would I have to– should be bride sacrifice a notebook back and forth?”

“A notebook,” Tim said scathingly. “We can do better than that. A communicator, a phone.”

“Who says Danny has signal, dingbat,” Jason shot back. “He’s probably out of the service area.”

Cass took the paper out of his hand and peered at it. “Yes or no,” she asked, cutting off the disagreement before it could get heated.

He didn’t have to think about it. “Yes,” Jason said, mischief in every line of his body. “I gotta see where this is going. We should at least meet the guy.”

“He said you were tempting!” Dick gasped. He grabbed Jason by the arm and clung on. “Remember? The first time? You’re his type!”

Damian made a ‘gross’ face, features scrunched up like an unhappy cat. Stephanie ‘ooooed’ like she was watching a wrestling match. Cass merely looked thoughtful.

Jason shook his annoying brother off and kept him at a distance with a palm on Dick’s forehead.

“Oooh, the void boy has a crush on you,” Stephanie teased. “You’d be such a beautiful bride, Jason.” She didn’t react to Cass reaching into her hip pouch and withdrawing a sparkly purple pen. Jason loftily ignored Stephanie and watched Cass carefully check YES.

The note disappeared. Cass looked at her empty hand. She flicked the pen between her fingers. Her brow scrunched up.

“Shit!” Jason cursed. “Did-”

The group broke out into an explosion of excited sound.

A throat cleared from the stairs. “Kids?”

Batman stood there, wearing wary suspicion and most of his patrol outfit. He was under the impression that they had agreed to stop sacrificing each other to the green void.

“She took my pen,” Stephanie wailed, instantly switching tracks. Cass backflipped away three times and then leapt directly upwards into the rafters, waiving the purple pen tauntingly. Stephanie chased after her.

“What-”

“Jason won’t let me hug him,” Dick tattletailed. He lunged to grab at Jason. Jason dodged on reflex and threw himself into the scuffle.

“I need to call Bernard.” Tim turned and outright left the Batcave. “I’ll be about five minutes late for patrol, B.”

Bruce watched this chaos with bewildered eyes. “...We leave in ten,” he said, and visibly gave up.

…

The date, when it came, was a fuckin surprise to Jason. He was minding his own business compiling a report on everything the Two-Facers had done last week. (There was a surprising amount of bureaucratic process involved in making yourself the judge, jury, and executioner of people who sucked.)

And then there was a violently green hole in his wall. “Huh,” Jason said, leaning back in his chair. He pulled the handgun out of his desk drawer and cocked it at the portal. “Not sure I care for that.”

“Thanks, wolf,” came a warbled and nonsensical reply. Jason turned off the safety.

His brow furrowed. “What?”

The portal flashed white and it closed. He was lifting his gun to point at the man now standing in his apartment before he’d actually processed that someone had come through. This guy moved fast.

“This is where you live?” The other man was peering around Jason’s apartment. He seemed politely interested at best, and, Jason felt, much less concerned by the gun than he should have been. “I heard bats before. I thought there would be more bats.” His tone was disappointed. He looked at Jason and then flinched his palms out and up, as if he thought he might have come off rude. “Not that you need bats! Or that I’m disappointed by the lack of bats in your decor. In fact you have wonderful, uh, curtains.” He very obviously named the first thing that he saw. He pretended to be fascinated by them. “The red sure is a choice.”

Jason snorted.

“A great choice! I’m not criticizing your home. It’s great.”

Jason realized that if he didn’t say anything to save him, Danny was going to ramble himself into a verbal corner and slink out of the dimension to escape his obvious embarrassment.

“...You hair looks just like in the picture you drew,” Jason said. He put the safety back on. “Hello, Danny.” The name tasted odd in his mouth. It twas just a little pedestrian for the other man– no, teenager, the other teenager.

Danny looked young. No wonder he’d thrown Dic back like the wrong fish.

Jason felt a little less smug about having been the one chosen. Maybe he was just the most age appropriate candidate, not Danny’s type. Timmers was only two years younger, sure, but he was petite enough that it was a little ambiguous.

Danny turned away from Jason’s window and beamed up at him like that was the greated compliment he could have ever received. “I don’t actually have your name! Which is funny, since you kept manifesting in my house.”

God help him, Danny was cute. Jason reached out a hand. “Jason.”

Danny looked at his outstretched hand and then back to his eyes. He blinked. “Are- oh!” He flushed green and his hand shot out to meet Jason’s in what was very clearly the first handshake of his life.

It was a struggle not to laugh. He didn’t wanna make Danny feel bad so he held it in. There was a helpful distraction in that Danny was fascinating to the touch. It didn’t feel like he was touching a human hand. First off, the hand was about the temperature of butter straight from the fridge. Secondly, somehow the physical contact made Jason taste mint in his mouth.

But really, it just… it didn’t feel like human skin. It was too smooth. There was a raised line from a scar, but the texture was as if all the wrinkles and pores of human skin had been polished off. Like if you held the hand of a marble statue and it was somehow also soft.

Jason pulled his hand away before he could wonder too much if that supernatural smoothness extended elsewhere. Ah. Too late. He flushed a little red, even though the only exposed skin was Danny’s hands and face. “So you’re here to uh, set up a date?” he offered.

Danny blinked at him. “Are you busy now? I was thinking now.”

…He was sort of busy. Jason closed his notebooks, only now concerned that Danny might have seen extremely sensitive information. “Nope,” he lied, attention catching on Danny’s freckles. Something about them was pinging as relevant. Was there a pattern? They weren’t symmetrical or anything. Were they fake?

Danny beamed and - he floated up a few inches in his excitement. Holy hell that was cute. “Great!” he enthused. “Should we go to your place or to mine?”

Uh.

Jason turned violently red. “We are already in my place.” His voice came out tight. He- he hadn’t meant that. That was not a first date activity for him.

It took a few seconds for the penny to drop. “Go out in your city or go to the Ghost Zone!” Danny waved his hands frantically. “I’m not being a creep I swear! I mean, we are kind of spiritually engaged but I’m also engaged to– are those people your friends and family?” He was outright horrified. “Oh my GOD, I’m-”

“I would love to take you out around town, but you’ll stand out,” Jason interrupted. He couldn’t hold back the smile. “We can make it work, though. Thoughts on hats and glowing less?”

“Oh, that’s easy.” Danny twitched his hands outward in a motion he probably didn’t even know he was doing. There was another flash of white light that crawled up and down his body.

And Danny one was gone. Danny two stood in Jason’s apartment with dark hair, patched jeans, and a loose t-shirt that hid the musculature his jumpsuit had displayed. He had a full palette switch of his eyes and skin tone as well.

He was obviously the same guy. He just felt more down to earth now.

“Useful,” Jason said, and tugged at his snow-white forelock. “Think you could teach me to change my hair like that?” He was only half joking. It was the bane of his existence when he needed to go undercover. It was too distinctive.

“No, but Doctor Frostbite might be able to sort that out for you,” Danny replied absently.

Jason grimaced instinctively. He knew way too many gimmicky villains to want to do to someone called Doctor Frostbite. “That sounds like the name of a B-tier villain with blue hair.”

Danny paused and clearly contemplated it. “That’s Ember, actually,” which made no branding sense because the word ember evoked warm colors. “Lead the way!” He bounced on his heels, which Jason guessed was his human form equivalent to floating up.

Jason cleared his throat. “I, uh, am gonna want to change.”

For the first time, Danny really looked him up and down and realized that he was wearing a white sleeveless undershirt and black boxers. Jason waited patiently as Danny went through all the stages of grief and social mortification. That didn’t stop Danny’s eyes from followed Jason’s bare arms when he casually lifted one and flexed a little, rubbing at the back of his head. Ha. Eat that, Dick.

“I’m going to go drown myself,” Danny said, now violently pink. Huh, even blushing for a color change. “Can I use your restroom?”

“Stay alive enough to pick between Korean or Mexican,” Jason advised. “I’ll be right back. Should I find you a coat?” He didn’t wait for an answer, frowning at Danny’s bare arms. “I’m gonna find you a coat.” He was already on the way to his bedroom. “It’s freezing out.”

…

[bbokicidal]

Marriage? Marriage. | Maknae Line! SKZ [OT8]

Genre : Fluff Warnings : None Pairing : Maknae Line SKZ x Fem!Reader

Notes : Ever wondered what your wedding would be like with SKZ? How they would propose? What their tux/outfit would look like? Your ring? The venue? Well I've got it all right here! (Completely w/ photo references!)

Other Notes : This is just how i picture things going down/looking. If you disagree or have other opinions, that's totally fine! But please don't go in the comments complaining it isn't how you pictured it. If you don't like it, scroll past. Thank you!

Jisung

The Proposal : Jisung is the one to make a big spectacle of it, creating an entire song to ask you to marry him in front of the guys. He does it at the venue for their concert during soundcheck so it's a little more personal, wanting you to be there for what he's calling 'practice' so you can hear and critique his new song. Or that's what he says - it's really just a massive proposal. He even gets Chan and Minho to run down the stage throwing flower petals in the air while he sings.

The Venue : Nothing too fancy. He wants it to be personal between just your families (and the guys, of course.) So he chooses a smaller venue with plenty of floral decorations to satisfy the both of you. He lets you pick out the colors however, agreeing that a nice muted purple would be a good mix between casual and elegant.

First Look : Oh, he bawls. He's on his knees the moment he turns around, tears streaking down round cheeks and hands covering his mouth in admiration. You have to cup his face and pull him up - but the photographer gets a perfect picture of you two kissing while Jisung bawls his eyeballs out at how beautiful you look.

His Best Man : Minho. (We all saw that coming.)

Felix

The Proposal : Felix takes you to his childhood home to do it. It's bigger than expected (because he came from a pretty well off family,) and still as wonderful as he remembers growing up. His family tags along to witness it all, but they aren't even aware of the proposal and his sisters are screaming before you are when they see him get down on one knee. Very romantic, very wholesome - biggest ring you've ever seen.

The Venue : Massive venue, very fairytale-esque. He wants it to be grand, as perfect as you are. He falls in love with the ballroom feel of the venue and his mind is made up the moment he steps inside to check it out for the first time. "It's perfect," He'll nod, later admiring how it looks with all of the decorations the two of you had picked out. The theme comes out to a soft pale blue and white.

First Look : He doesn't want to do a first look, but he lets the guys go and see you. His heart slams in his chest the moment Chris comes back with rosy cheeks, exclaiming how beautiful you looked and how Felix had gotten oh-so lucky to be with you. Of course, he tears up a bit and maybe bawls a little when he sees you walking down the aisle.

His Best Man : Jisung.

Seungmin

The Proposal : He's the one to do it on stage. Unexpected, right? He wants to make it memorable for everyone - especially you. He'll ask you to come out, take your hand the moment you enter the stage and then walk with you to the middle to give the most heartwarming and sincere speak you've heard since their Maniac tour. "I said once that I didn't believe in the word 'forever,' but... in this moment, I want to believe I'll be with you for eternity."

The Venue : Also something bigger. Plenty of room to hold many guests but not as grand of a venue as Felix's pick. It's outdoors, for one, the theme of the wedding a warm green with pale pinks and roses speckled in for accent. He lets you do most of the decorating because he trusts you with it, but he will give you his input if you ask for it. However, his favorite thing about the venue has to be the archway he'll marry you under.

First Look : Oh he's getting a first look. He's a bit impatient the day of and asks to see you as soon as possible, only to be met with your arms wrapping around him from behind. He'll sink into your embrace before turning to look at you, backing away only so he can take in the full view. He'll even ask you to do a little spin, holding your hand with care and smiling at how beautiful you are.

His Best Man : Jeongin.

Jeongin

The Proposal : It just sort of... falls out of his mouth. You're having dinner with the group out at a nicer restaurant and he's sitting at your side, seeming a bit distracted and distant. Lost in thought, he snaps back into his own mind before murmuring a soft, "Do you want to get married?" as he looks over. It catches you by surprise, especially when he pulls a velvet box from his pocket, opening it to reveal a gorgeous diamond ring. He couldn't find the perfect way to do it, and he grew impatient with himself - so he just asked.

The Venue : He lets you pick it out, with you settling on a smaller church that gave the most basic, traditional wedding possible - which is how he preferred it, if he were honest. He liked how it felt normal, like he was just another person existing in the universe. Nothing too special, nothing too grand. Just... normal and perfect for you two.

First Look : His first look is during pictures, and as he sees you coming up to him he's all full of giggles and bouncy excitement. He turns away to whisper to Seungmin how he's not sure how he bagged such a baddie, before turning back to gather himself and hold your hands while telling you how beautiful you are. Absolute menace even during his own wedding but he's doing his best.

His Best Man : Technically? Seungmin. But he gives each member of the group a special Boutonniere because in his mind, they're all the best. He wants all of his hyungs involved in his wedding.

[genderqueerpositivity]

I absolutely cannot wait for this election cycle to be over because genuinely what the fuck. I keep drawing parallels to the 2016 election because there are just so many similarities, but what I haven't said much about yet are the ways in which things are worse.

Having the majority of people I know or randomly encounter be Trump supporting Republicans is absolutely wild now, because sometimes they will just drop the most unhinged comments you could possibly imagine into casual conversation as if they're simply commenting that the grass is green or the weather is nice today, and every time it gives me this bizarre sensation like I am somehow the one living in a different plane of reality.

The Democrats are intentionally bringing undocumented people into the country and giving them drivers licenses so they can vote in the upcoming November election, and unless Donald Trump wins and is allowed to carry out his mass deportation plan the United States will never again have a Republican Christian president.

Joe Biden has been using the US military to release chemicals into the atmosphere for the past four years which have the ability to affect the weather in order to trick the American public into believing that climate change is real.

The attack on Donald Trump at his rally was rally a plot enacted by The Deep State, a secret group of powerful liberals who are running the country behind the scenes, and they don't want Trump to win in November because he is too powerful for them to control.

Joe Biden was replaced by a secret identical body double when he allegedly had Covid several weeks ago, and the double is the one who really dropped out of the election, gives all of his speeches, and does all of his interviews now for him.

Those are just the ones I heard last week.

And the reactions I get when contradicting these wild takes range from rage to mocking to a bizarre persecution complex. In 2016 and even in 2020 I was able to have a lot of productive conversations with many people who disagreed with me greatly on major issues, and that is largely not happening this time. If I dare to disagree, they turn to anger, attack me personally, or cry immediately that I'm denying their right to free speech. When bringing up my actual lived experiences with certain issues, I've been dismissed immediately as emotional and brainwashed. There is no room for discourse or discussion anymore, it has broken down.

I know that we've been going out of our way to call them weird, but we're not really talking about fringe weirdo conspiracy theorists anymore, we're talking about your neighbors and my coworkers and your aunt and the guy behind me in line at Aldi. These people are everywhere, they're 100% serious about believing in this shit, and they're voting Republican in November come hell or high water, truth be goddamed.

You know, the lives of millions and millions of women, LGBTQ+ people, undocumented people, and other marginalized peoples are at stake in this election but it feels increasingly like reality is at stake too.

"Alternative facts" sounded outrageous seven years ago...now they've made it a way of life. Unless we can correct course, and rapidly, it isn't going to get better.