#that first paragraph is so funny to me though

[weishenbwi]

Write a story about serial killer Jeon Jungkook and detective Kim Taehyung. Jungkook has tattoos and piercings and is a yandere. Taehyung is trying to solve the murders.

Jeon Jungkook was a man of contradictions. On the one hand, he was a successful businessman with a charming smile and a magnetic personality that made him the life of the party. But on the other hand, he was also a yandere, consumed by a dangerous obsession with a woman he believed was his true love. This obsession led him down a dark path, one that involved multiple murders and a trail of blood that led straight to his doorstep.

Detective Kim Taehyung was assigned to the case, and he was determined to bring the killer to justice. He had heard about Jungkook's tattoos and piercings, but he didn't think they would have any bearing on the case. After all, a killer was a killer, regardless of their appearance.

As Taehyung delved deeper into the investigation, however, he began to realize that Jungkook's tattoos and piercings were more than just a fashion statement. They were a part of his persona, a way for him to assert his dominance over his victims and to intimidate anyone who might try to stop him.

Taehyung spent long hours poring over crime scene photos and interviewing witnesses, trying to piece together a profile of the killer. He discovered that Jungkook had a pattern - he always targeted women who resembled his lost love, and he always left behind a distinctive mark, a symbol that he had tattooed on his own body.

With this knowledge, Taehyung began to close in on Jungkook. He tracked him to his lavish penthouse apartment, where he found evidence linking him to the murders. But when he confronted Jungkook, the killer was ready for him.

Jungkook lunged at Taehyung, his tattoos and piercings gleaming in the dim light. Taehyung fought back, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to subdue the killer. In the end, he emerged victorious, and Jungkook was taken into custody.

As Taehyung walked away from the scene, his mind was racing with thoughts of what could have been. If he had been just a little bit slower, just a little bit less skilled, Jungkook could have taken him down. But he didn't dwell on those thoughts for long. He had a job to do, and he was damn good at it. And with one more killer off the streets, he knew that he had made a difference in the world.

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

I've been looking for this one au where Len basically becomes a mad scientist and turns his friends into robots one by one for a while now, and I'm beginning to realize that I just read through your blog while half asleep a few months back and mixed together my memories of your flower hivemind and composite au

this is very funny to me. i'm absolutely honored this blog's posts were enough to evil-farming-game an entire vocaloid au into your memories 😂

i can give you this doodle; it's composite au but i'm sure it'd fit very well with this theoretical mad scientist len au lololl

[maddy-ferguson]

Ik you don't like ambigulous sexuality Mike so I would like to know, do you think canonically Mike will be explicitly gay? I don't even mean like saying the word gay I mean even just explaining that he didn't like El romantically. Bc I'm confident in endgame Byler but I find a lot of gay Mike theories far fetched in the sense that it makes sense but I don't really believe they'd do that in canon and I don't think it's what the Duffers intended (like the Phoebe Cates scene). I think that if they wanted to do explicitly gay Mike then they dragged on the Melvin storyline for way too long for it to make sense to anyone who isn't spending time analyzing Mike's behavior because so much gay mike proof is so subtle unlike general Byler proof which a lot of the GA has picked up on.

I know the show certainly shouldn't cater to the GA, but it should still be understandable to the audience even if they haven't spent hours analyzing, and I think by now they've passed the point where they could convincingly show that Mike never liked El romantically in the first place.

I know I sound like I'm repeating a lot of Byler anti talking points so sorry if I sound like a Byler anti, I promise I'm not. I just really don't understand how they would do gay Mike and would like to hear what you think.

this is from a week ago and i've talked about it again since but i was so flattered that you a) knew i don't like ambiguous sexuality mike and b) wanted to ask this to me. <3 and don't preemptively apologize omg i love you

i honestly feel like the main thing is an unhappy mlvn breakup. think this. in spirit. i am sorry to every platonic elmike enjoyer i think they could've had a relatively fun onscreen dynamic post-breakup had the s3 breakup been final i really do but this is a post-season 4 world. failed monologue and all that. only one season left. i need it to be clear somehow someway that this relationship hurt el and that their relationship was bad from the get-go. no idea how realistic this is btw but i feel like they can't afford to have them break up off-screen or to have it be vague à la season 2 stncy because it's their quote unquote main couple lol.

i feel like making it apparent that the relationship was bad for both of them would be ideal. and specifically el not being all mature all oh it's okay because i don't love you either would be good i think. we would've had that had the monologue not happened but we're past that now. i don't think they'll be on bad terms by the end of the show they're not gonna hate each other or anything but i don't see them being instant best friends after breaking up AT ALL

and yeah i agree that a lot of gay mike proof is only proof in the sense that it's in there and some of it is inconsequential. but that could also be said of some byler proof lol, like no one in the ga is thinking oh look blue met yellow in the west they're color-coded!!

i don't think they dragged mlvn on for too long and i can't for the life of me word it in a way that makes sense so i'm gonna link this post (inluding the tags from my mutual who reblogged it) :) i hate mlvn, hate with a capital h but i think them staying together this long (it's only been like a year and three months in the show which is kind of crazy) makes sense for them for multiple in-universe reasons (mike being the one who introduced the concept of romance to el, el only getting back together with mike after hopper died, i can think of about a thousand reasons for mike), but for us as viewers, yeah idk, obviously ending the season 4 with them being broken up for good would've made it easier for the ga to accept the possibility of byler being endgame and of mike being gay but it would've also been very obvious so i can see why they didn't do it. they still need people to tune in and also we needed to feel like we lost at the end of season 4 and that includes me and the other...27k tumblr bylers at the time

when you look at the facts i don't think gay mike would seem far-fetched to the average non-homophobic viewer: mike takes in a girl. kisses her after being told by everyone that he must like her, after telling her that his sister would be her sister and that and after 8 episodes of her being repeatedly mistaken for a boy and for will specifically. doesn't see her for a year, spends a season glued to will's side, kisses her again at the snow ball. pushes will away in season 3, inadvertently calls him out for being gay and for not growing up. starts having problems with his gf as soon as said gf starts to look like a girl and learns that she can have preferences of her own. lies to gf and gets broken up with, is very obnoxious about it all season. indirectly tells will he actually doesn't want to grow up and wants to keep playing with him at the end of the season. goes back to playing dnd as soon as s4 begins, which goes to show that he actually didn't mean what he said about wanting to grow up last season (either that or he's a hypocrite and hates will specifically. lol). acts weird with will again. focuses on his gf WHO LITERALLY LOOKS LIKE WILL IN A DRESS for the day. gets lied to by his gf and is then left behind by her, isn't as obnoxious about it but also keeps talking about his relationship without ever mentioning why they fought so he never has to explain why exactly he couldn't say That thing. to his boy best friend who he keeps having emotional talks with. doesn't say the thing until he gets told that he's the heart and all that by said boy best friend and still struggles to tell gf that he loves her. end of the world

i really think most of them are just not thinking about it. i remember asking my friend how likely byler being endgame was to her in august and she was like i...had never considered the possibility of el and mike not ending up together. then i talked her ear off for 60 minutes and she was like okayy i can see it maybe And she was sad for mike. so!

i think no matter how it goes we're gonna get an interview confirming it because they had to do it FOR WILL because people couldn't possibly imagine that the character who'd been called gay for the first time in the first twenty minutes of the show could actually be written to be gay

but maybe he'll tell us he's gay himself lol who knows

[motherforthefamicom]

random assortment of drawings i might as well post

[5sospenguinqueen]

Emotional Range Of A Teaspoon | Pierre Gasly

Summary: What right does he have to feel angry at the sight of Y/N and Charles? The answer is none. After all, she's only his best friend. Isn't she?

Warnings: Swearing. Angst. Fluff. Jealousy. One suggestive comment

No faceclaim but British reader. 2024 timeline

F1 Masterlist

Requested: Yes (sorry it's a little late)

This one actually comes with a tiny text paragraph mid-way through

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

Replies to @ PierreGASLY

Charles_Leclerc c’mon mate, it’s only been two days 

→ PierreGASLY a whole lifetime 

→ ItsYN i can’t even remember what you look like 

→ Charles_Leclerc and the people say that i am the dramatic one 

AlpineF1Team think you can channel that pain into some points this weekend?

→ PierreGASLY why aren’t you taking my pain seriously 

→ AlpineF1Team do you want us to schedule you an appointment with the counsellor?

→ ItsYN i don’t think that counsellor gets paid enough to listen to him

User1 ouch, talk about friendzoned 

→ User2 no, no, they’re in the denial stage of their friends to lovers arc

Replies to @ ItsYN

PierreGASLY i can still hear your voice

→ PierreGASLY although i’m glad you’re not making me suffer through the lost boys again

→ ItsYN okay first off, you love that movie. and second, because of that, i’m telling everyone you cried watching cars 3

→ PierreGASLY traitor!

→ LiamLawson30 as any man would!

Charles_Leclerc don’t worry y/n, i’ll have movie night with you 

→ ItsYN are you going to make me watch harry potter again?

→ Charles_Leclerc yes..?

→ ItsYN @ PierreGASLY come back please 

Replies to @ Charles_Leclerc

User3 not charles tweeting this the day after the canadian gp. y/n missed the canadian gp and you can tell poor charles had to hear all about it 

ItsYN we all know i would be the soldier and pierre would be the doting housewife crying on the platform 

→ PierreGASLY and i would look radiant doing so

Max33Verstappen he wouldn’t shut up about her during the driver’s parade. i tried to walk off and he followed me!

→ PierreGASLY i was in the middle of a sentence!

→ danielricciardo mate you know it’s bad when yapstappen needs you to stop talking

ItsYN stop talking about me. you're making it sound like we're friends

→ Charles_Leclerc excuse me but you know you want to be my bestie

→ PierreGASLY you can’t have her. she’s mine. i saw her first. shotgun or whatever you monagasques say for dibs 

→ GeorgeRussell63 actually i saw her first; her brother was my teammate when we were kids so 

→ PierreGASLY and just for that, i’m unfollowing you 

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

Replies to @ CHICKEN!!

User4 whoever took this photo needs to go straight to jail. not y’all making it seem like charles and y/n are a sneaky item

User5 i knew she was shady, talking about how she couldn't make it only to end up in the winning driver’s garage 

PierreGASLY oh 

→ User6 wait no, pierre, come back. look at other tweets about this please

User7 stop being a shit stirrer. he’s literally got his other arm wrapped around alex ‘cause he was guiding the two of them through a ton of fans but that’s conveniently been cropped out 

Replies to @ BRAKKEEE

User8 i can’t believe people were trying to convince us ynarles was real when it’s clearly ynex

User9 love that charles was literally only there to keep them safe from fans and after that they were like ‘you’re done babe. now we run off into the sunset’ 

User10 watching him chase after them was so funny tho because he was literally yelling “let me play too” 

Replies to @ ItsYN

User11 oh no, we’re so sorry. we were just so happy to see you 

→ User12 yeah and pierre would’ve been happy to see her as well if you hadn’t blasted her all over the internet 

→ User13 pierre didn't exactly look all that happy though. he wouldn’t stop glaring at poor charles  

→ User12 maybe because you guys made it seem like his best friend lied to him to be with charles

Thumb aimlessly swiping at the screen of his phone, Pierre scanned the tweets as they passed, making note of a cute waffle shop in Monaco that he knew Y/N would love. Nothing of note appeared to have been posted as most of the Grid were waiting to hear where Sainz had signed. Hand halting, Pierre’s eyes flickered across the screen once. Twice. And then a third time just to be sure. His last message to Y/N had gone unanswered and now there was a picture of her on Twitter, claiming to be from today. With Charles’ arm around her. His teeth sank into his bottom lip, and a derisive scoff filled his driver’s room. What happened to being unable to book the time off work, he thought bitterly to himself. Instead she was in the Paddock with a red-clad arm wrapped around her. Before he could restrain himself, he had clicked on the ‘reply’ button. A knock at the door pulled him from his downward spiral, preventing him from looking further into the comments gushing about how cute his best friend and closest F1 friend looked as a couple. 

“Pierre, time to warm up.”

“D’accord.”

He locked his phone before dumping it onto the massage table, storming out of his driver’s room, unaware that if he had scrolled down another two posts, he would’ve seen a picture of Y/N with Alexandra and a tweet from the woman herself. 

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

ItsYN just posted

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, estebanocon and others

ItsYN an amazing weekend in barcelona watching my best friend do his thing and achieve some well-deserved points. a huge thank you to charles and alex for helping me sneak into the paddock last-minute tagged: pierregasly, charles_leclerc and alexandrasaintmleux 

553 comments

alpinef1team our favourite things rolled into one post 

→ ItsYN mine too! 

→ User1 sis, get off the floor 

estebanocon should i be offended that you wearing my cap didn’t make the post 

→ ItsYN shh i can’t have my people thinking i have friends other than pear 

danielricciardo PIERRE GASSLLLYYYYY

→ ItsYN go thirst over him on his posts. my insta is a 310 free zone

→ danielricciardo just admit that you’re jealous of our love and move on

→ ItsYN was he publicly crying over missing YOU? i don’t think so 

→ danielricciardo that’s because i’m a better friend than you and i’ve been here the whole time

→ ItsYN blocked 

alexandrasaintmleux thank you for trusting me with the surprise! 

→ ItsYn thank you for being so wonderful and helping 🩷 (and stopping charles from throttling me)

→ charles_leclerc it’s because you wouldn’t stop saying thank you and asking me if i was “sure that it’s no bother” to help you 

→ It’sYN sorry for being considerate! 

User2 not to be that person but has anyone else noticed that pierre hasn’t commented?

→ User3 i'm getting the feeling that, despite all his online complaining, he wasn’t overly excited to see his best friend this weekend? 

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

User4 not the f1wags posting her, they know the truth

→ User5 what truth. it doesn’t look they’re even friends anymore

User7 it’s the way she looks like she’s trying to explain/talk to him and he’s just yelling at her 

→ User8 i used to root for them to get together but now that he’s yelled at her :/

User9 y/n is stronger than me because if a man pointed his finger like that at me, i’d savagely bite it off 

User10 uh, who does he think he is talking to y/n l/n that way

User11 i bet it’s because he thought y/n was there for charles and got jealous 

→ User12 i’ve connected the dots

→ User13 you ain’t connected shit

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

User14 idk which one i want to be more

→ User15 that’s because you want to be their third instead 

User16 i’m thirsty. anyone else thirsty

LandoNorris oh god my eyes

→ danielricciardo this is why you should stop looking at x rated things on the internet 

→ User17 what happened to your pr training?

→ Charles_Leclerc what happened to pierre’s?

User18 if only he could transfer this kind of passion onto the track 

User19 uh, the clarity of the third one?? did admin take this and then leak it online? 

→ AlpineF1Team i'm afriad that we’re finding out along with you guys but we’re not gonna pretend like we weren’t rooting for this 

ItsYN why am i trending on twitter?

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

ItsYN just posted

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, lilymhe and others

ItsYN my little pain au chocolat 💕

845 comments

pierregasly we talked about you calling me pastries 

→ ItsYn yes, we did. and i didn’t take into account anything you said

→ pierregasly you are very lucky you're cute

→ ItsYN it's gotten me far in life

User1 talk about a hard launch

→ User2 they weren’t really given the choice considering they were caught snogging all over barcelona last weekend

alpinef1team pierre repping the alpine colours 

→ ItsYN release your chokehold on my man

→ alpinef1team no, you release your chokehold on our man 

→ ItsYN what happened to being supportive of this?

→ alpinef1team that was before all he did was yap about you!

lilymhe babe, this isn’t you. get up and come back to me 

→ ItsYN i’m sorry but i don’t think i can come back from this 

→ lilymhe what about us, what about everything we’ve been through

→ ItsYN you know i never wanted to hurt you

→ alex_albon @ pierregasly guess i’ll be seeing you at the next karaoke marathon 

→ pierregasly only if you sing breaking free with me

→ ItsYN this is why i love you

landonorris let’s take a moment for our fallen soldier… we lost an honourable brit to a french man

→ pierregasly it’s not my fault that i have charm and you don’t 

→ danielricciardo i didn’t realise charm meant having a tantrum when she asks your friend for help to surprise you 

→ pierregasly we agreed not to speak of that! 

→ ItsYN i don’t think you’re living this one down, macaron

charles_leclerc can you tell him to put his clothes back on, please

→ ItsYN i tried but he seems incapable of keeping them on around me

→ pierregasly charles is just jealous of my amazing physique 

→ charles_leclerc best you not talk about jealousy 

User4 @ ItsYN i love that they’ve not had a chance to pr train you yet

→ ItsYN never! 

User5 and they called me crazy when i said friends to lovers! 

→ ItsYN tbf hun, so did we. it took us a minute

→ User6 so pierre is slow on and off the track 

→ pierregasly hey! 

pierregasly just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, yukitsunoda0511 and others

pierregasly from movie nights to drunken karaoke, i would go on any adventure with you 

1,454 comments

ItsYN my best friend and my love 

→ alexandrasaintmleux i thought i was your best friend 

→ ItsYN i’m not allowed to post shirtless pics of you online though

→ charles_leclerc no you are not! 

→ User7 i hope pr never got ahold of her

→ alpinef1team she has an appointment with them on thursday

yukitsunoda0511 is this what they call simping?

→ pierregasly no

→ ItsYN yes

maxverstappen1 does this mean you’ll stop talking about her during driver’s parades?

→ pierregasly no 

→ yukitsunoda0511 he’ll just stop talking about whether she’s interested in any of us 

→ ItsYN he did that?

→ pierregasly no!

→ maxverstappen1 yes, the latest victim was logan

→ charles_leclerc actually i was the latest victim, and i will remain the most famous. my jealousy era is forever captured on the internet 

→ logansargeant @ pierregasly is that why you kept asking me what i thought about her?

landonorris you guys are kinda cute when you’re not yelling at her 

→ ItsYN please stop saying this. i'm the one who has to listen to him apologise over and over for the millionth time

→ pierregasly because i feel bad! 

→ ItsYN omg i know! 

danielricciardo mate, we get it. she’s your girl now but you can let go of her for two seconds. she’s not going to disappear

→ pierregasly it’s called a healthy attachment

→ ItsYN he says whilst cuddled into my neck and following me to the bathroom

lilymhe she’s so hot, drop me her @ please

→ pierregasly back off

→ ItsYN i’m right here bby girl. let me take out on a date 

→ charles_leclerc careful lily or he might start yelling at you next 

alpinef1team we’ve been asked by an anonymous source that you all refrain from discussing previous events. reparations have been made and it’s been advised that such an event remain in the past 

→ danielricciardo lol he ran to mom

→ landonorris anonymous source, my ass. just tag him

→ georgerussell63 this is so lame

→ alex_albon mate, this is more obvious than pierre’s jealousy 

→ charles_leclerc even i cannot support him through this 

→ ItsYN i love you, my little croissant, but i cannot pretend that this is normal

→ pierregasly ultimate betrayal

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

Sorry if this wasn’t angst enough. Humour and fluff are more my forte.

As always, F1 requests open for the current grid and retired drivers.

Tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury

(A huge thank you to both of you for wanting to be added to all f1 posts. It means a lot)

[rogueddie]

There are a lot of rumors about Eddie Munson. From his sexuality, to his religion, to him being some sort of supernatural creature.

Steve doesn’t put a lot of merit in most of them. They’re usually just bullshit people make up to entertain themselves with whilst beating down on the weird kid. Steve thinks it’s boring… usually.

He’s seen enough weird things happen around Munson to know that something isn’t right. Something about him is unnatural. And Steve is staying clear out of the way of whatever the hell he is, or whatever the hell he’s messing with.

Unfortunately, his friends haven’t gotten the message.

“Do it at your own house!” Steve complains, though he makes no move to stop them. He’s sure it’s nothing, that it’ll only lead to an annoying clean-up job, but there’s a nagging sense of dread writhing in his gut. “This shit is bull anyway.”

“If it’s bull then what’s the problem?” Tommy counters.

“Because none of you dickheads are going to help clean this shit up!”

“I promise to help you clean up,” Carol says. “There. Problem solved. Right?”

"It's still stupid," Steve mutters, glaring at the janky make-shift pentagram they've made. "And a bad idea."

It's drawn on nine pieces of paper- they wanted to draw it big on the floor, but Steve had but his foot down. He lets them use some of his moms candles as a compromise.

With the lights off, sitting with the two of them in a circle, it suddenly feels too real. Even Carol looks suddenly nervous.

Tommy is the only one still smirking, though Steve is sure that it's forced. His voice shakes a little as he begins reading off the paper he'd torn out a library book. His Latin is clunky.

At first, nothing happens.

Long enough that Carol says, "did you even say it right?"

"Yes, it even has-" Tommy starts.

The candles all blow out, suddenly. The light Steve had left on in the kitchen flicks off too, plunging them into complete darkness.

After a horrible moment, where they're still and silent, Carol yelps.

"Don't grab me, Tommy, that's not funny!"

"I didn't grab you."

"Wh- Steve?"

"No," is all Steve can get out.

"I'm turning the lights on," Tommy says. "This is ridiculous."

Steve listens to his footsteps and, when he sounds like he's almost at the light switch, he yelps.

"Fuck this," he says.

"What the fuck, Tommy!" Carol yells when they both hear him running past them. She's up on her feet immediately, chasing after him.

He wants to scream after them, plead with them to come back, that they shouldn't be abandoning the circle.

But, the same gut instinct that insists he stay where he is, keeps his mouth shut. Everything in his being is telling him that if he leaves, if he speaks first, horrible things will happen to him.

Something tuts, like a parent admonishing a child.

The living room light flicks on, so bright that Steve has to blink a few times to clear away the white spots.

Eddie Munson sits in the space they left empty.

"Someone didn't read the terms and conditions," he snickers.

"What..." Steve pauses, clearing his throat. "What are the, uh... terms and conditions?"

"Oh, they're simple, really. Look," he holds up the page Tommy had read the incantations from, pointing to the little paragraph at the end. "They even translated it to English! But all you need to know, big boy, is that you are A-OK."

"And... Tommy and Carol?"

"Eh, they're fine. Lucky, really. I'm trying to relax up here. I'm only gonna pay them back with a minor curse or two. Nothing lethal."

"Fuck."

"We haven't even got to you yet!" He spins around so hes laying on his belly, resting his chin on his palm. "You didn't technically summon me so you can just tell me to leave... or."

"Or?"

"Deal with no consequence, baby. One wish, whatever you want, free of charge. Well... I'd want your silence about the whole... summoning thing. Let's consider that payment."

He doesn't need his gut or book to warn him that it's a bad idea. Munson could be lying, easily. There could be fine print. It's a bad, very bad idea.

"There's... definitely no consequences? I won't, like, go to hell for this?" Steve finally asks.

"Do some charity work for a week, you'll be fine," he says, waving his hand around. "What do you want, King Steve?"

"Could- could you make someone love me?"

"Oh, ho ho ho! Who's the unlucky lady who said no to you?"

"No, it... it's not like that. I mean, um... my mom."

Munsons smile drops. The temperature drops with it, making a chill run up Steves spine.

"Your mom," he repeats.

"They're busy like, all the time," Steve automatically defends. "And they're barely here so, uh... of course they wouldn't- I mean, it's normal, right? You can't love a stranger or... whatever. It's fine. It's just... I don't know."

"Steve..." Munson pauses.

He groans, throwing his head into his hands, dramatically. He almost immediately flings his head back up, hair flying everywhere, giving Steve wide and pleading eyes.

"I can't make people fall in love or any shit like that. I can make illusions, that's it. Love is, like... way out of my jurisdiction."

"I- I'm ok with an illusion. Like, just one day or something."

"Steve, baby, you're breaking my heart."

"Please?"

"Jesus- ok!" Grumbling, Munson shifts so he's kneeling. "And in return, you won't say shit about any of this. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Great. Ugh. This next part is... weird."

"What do you mean, weird?"

"It's weird, I don't know. Deals about, like, love are sealed with a kiss."

"You're joking."

"Nope, and that's not even the weird part. Now, come on and pucker up, let's get this over with." He gestures for Steve to shuffle closer, waiting until they're sat close enough that their knees almost bump together. "You can still change your mind. Anything at all, Steve. Anything."

"I thought you wanted to get this over with?"

"On your head..."

Munson leans forward, kissing him. It's just a peck, simple and easy. No big deal, right?

Steve feels possessed. It's like someone lit a match in his stomach, leaving him lightheaded and confused. He's not sure how he ends up in Eddie's lap, clutching onto his shoulders, desperately trying to lick into his mouth. He feels so-

He wakes up in his bed, the morning light blinding him.

"What the fuck..." he mutters to himself, grabbing at his throbbing head.

At first, he thinks he's hungover. That he'd just had a weird dream... but he's wearing the same clothes. And, sat on his stomach, is a guitar pic. It's got 'corroded coffin' written on it too- Eddie's band.

"Steve!" He hears his mom call. "Time to get up!"

He scrambles out of bed, dashing down the stairs.

She smiles when she spots him, so bright and warm. She even raises an arm, laughing when he practically throws himself into her side and hugging her tight.

"Morning, sweetheart. Good dreams?"

"Yeah. Yeah, great. But, uh... I feel sick."

"Oh no," she frowns. She puts her hand to his forehead, cooing when she brushes his hair out his face. "Is it your stomach?"

"Yeah. Just... might be better to stay home today. If that's ok?"

"Of course it is. I'm sure we can find something fun to do together, yeah? How about we get a vhs movie, hm?"

"I'd love that."

"Great. Well, if you're feeling up to it, I've made breakfast." She steps away, plating the food she's cooked up. "Oh, did I ever tell you about Paris? It was beautiful, you would have loved it. We should bring you, next time we go."

Steve can't stop smiling. He's sure that his cheeks will be aching by the end of the day.

He'll have to thank Eddie- as soon as he can even think about him without blushing. He'll need to ask if it's normal to still feel... affected, even after the deal is done.

Part of him knows it isn't the deal. Part of him is too curious about how Eddie will react.

[arieslost]

cinnamon whiskey | ln4

lando norris x fem!writer!reader

summary: you meet a famous race car driver in one of the last places you’d expect— the adirondacks.

word count: 4,578

warnings: drinking, minor injuries (small description of bruising)

masterlist — join my tag list here!

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

Your editor was going to kill you.

Every day brought you closer to the deadline for your manuscript, and every day you could hardly help yourself out in getting to your self-imposed goal of 1,000 words. It wasn’t a difficult feat; you’d done it before, and you didn’t have anything else to be doing. You had absolutely zero distractions: it was just you, your notebook, and your computer. There was only one problem.

The words just weren’t coming to you, and you’d already gotten a two week extension on the deadline. It felt like all your writing abilities had been rescinded.

“I’m screwed.” You professed to your best friend, falling into a pathetic heap on her couch. You needed a serious pick-me-up after struggling to write a measly paragraph, and she had readily offered a girls night.

“I think you’re being a little dramatic. Scoot over.” She replied, shoving your legs out of the way so she could sit. “Maybe you just need to get out of your house.”

“And go where? I can’t just pack up and take a vacation right now.” You grumbled into the couch cushion.

“Why don’t you go upstate?” She suggested after a moment of silence.

“Upstate?” You repeated.

“Yeah, go to the Adirondacks. My dad owns a house up there, remember? We had a blast the last time we were there.”

You and your best friend had gone up to the Adirondacks when you graduated college, and you always prefaced the retelling of it with, “It was one of the best weeks of my life.” You almost felt silly for not thinking of doing something like that in the first place.

“It might be a good idea… Do you think your dad would be okay with me staying there?”

Your best friend laughed. “Yes, you idiot. He’s let me stay there by myself, he’ll definitely let you.”

A mere 24 hours went by, and you were settled in a cozy cabin in the Adirondacks with the desperate hope of having the rest of your manuscript ready by the end of your stay. Otherwise, you might as well just fire yourself and save your editor some time.

It wasn’t the only cabin in the area– it was more like a very small community made up of six houses built exactly the same. The area was usually used by people with a decent amount of cash lining their pockets, so you were extra grateful to your best friend’s father. He had taken one look at the dejection on your face when your best friend had mentioned her grand idea, and simply handed you the keys with the promise that your stay would be free of charge.

You did feel a little out of place, though– you could have sworn one of your neighbors was in a movie you’d just watched, and another one was just so ridiculously attractive there was no way he wasn’t famous for something. You’d seen him out on his front porch when you arrived, and had to force yourself not to stare or salivate over his bare torso.

The change of scenery around you helped tremendously. At first. You always felt refreshed when you went somewhere new, particularly if it was somewhere you felt more connected to nature. You had gotten into the habit of taking walks to calm yourself when you got frustrated, and having new sights was definitely an exciting prospect for when you inevitably slammed your computer shut and stormed out the door like you just did a few moments ago.

You’ll be the first to admit it: the story just isn’t coming together. Your main character has a goal, a purpose, but she is entirely lacking any kind of driving force to get where she needs to go.

She has no motivation.

You can appreciate irony, but there’s nothing funny about it right now.

The dirt and leaves crunch under your feet as you walk down the first trail that you see. It branches off from the main path that runs between all of the houses: yours, the attractive guy’s, and one other, and then the suspected movie star’s and the other two on the other side. Right now, you just want to see nothing but the path before you, the trees in your peripheral vision, the gentle summer breeze in your hair, and maybe a chipmunk or a squirrel here and there.

But, of course, you can’t even have that. You’re alone with your thoughts for all of two seconds before you hear a crash off to your left that sends a few birds flying. You would have ignored it if not for the groan that immediately followed.

“Um… hello?” You call out, doubling back to try and see just what the hell had happened.

If you were in a horror movie, this would most certainly be your death scene.

“Ah…” It’s definitely a man, and he definitely sounds like he’s in pain.

“Are you okay?” You step off the path, getting closer to where the noise had come from.

That’s where you find him— your insanely attractive neighbor, practically in the fetal position, entirely focused on the camera in his hand. His jaw is clenched, whether in pain or concern for the camera, you don’t know. You just know he has a sharp jawline, long eyelashes, and curly hair.

Ugh, you could cry because he’s so good looking.

He looks up at you, eyes meeting yours, and he has the decency to look embarrassed.

“What the hell just happened to you?”

“I, um… I fell out of that tree.” He confesses, pointing to a branch, not too high up, but now dangling in half.

“And you were in the tree because…” You trail off, gesturing for him to explain further.

“Right, well, I was taking pictures and had an idea for a good one from a higher vantage point, so I climbed the tree. Thought I had a good balance, but—” He winces as he pushes himself up into a sitting position. “I didn’t.”

“No kidding. You’re lucky you didn’t break anything.” You marvel, hands held out in front of you just in case he falls over when he starts standing up.

“I’m not too sure about that.” He huffs out a pained laugh.

“You wouldn’t have been able to stand up so easily if you had, and your wrist and shoulder look fine.” You point out. “I have no doubt that you bruised your side up pretty badly though.”

“Yeah? How would you know?” He leans against the tree he just fell out of, his miraculously unbroken camera hanging from the strap around his neck.

“I’m a writer. I’m like a black hole of useless information.”

“I don’t think it’s useless anymore.” He takes a step forward and his face immediately contorts into a grimace. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Well, you’ve already asked so much of me, but if you really have to, then sure.” You tease, and he laughs again.

“I’m probably going to need some help getting back to the house,” he begins, and then continues after taking in the surprised look on your face. “But you don’t have to. I can just crawl or something. Maybe I’ll get lucky and make it back before nightfall.”

Not just attractive, but funny too? You might as well make the most out of these two weeks and use whatever you can to help you finish that dreaded manuscript. Besides, the only other person you’ve ever met who can hold a torch to your sense of humor is your best friend. This has to be a sign of some sort.

“Alright, but at least tell me your name first.”

His name is Lando, you’ve known him for an hour, and you think you’re in love with him.

Sure, you’re frustrated that he completely ruined the solitude that you craved, but the ice maker in his house is broken and he desperately needs some for the bruise that you know is darkening by the second underneath his t-shirt. So he’s sprawled out on your couch, and you’re in the kitchen collecting ice cubes to wrap up in a hand towel.

“Alright, lift your shirt up,” you instruct, walking into the living room and taking a seat beside him.

“I usually take a girl out before I let her see me half naked.”

“But it’s okay if everyone else sees you out on your porch half naked?”

“You were looking?” He tilts his head down a little and raises his eyebrows. “Liked what you saw, did you?”

You blush. “Just shut up and lift your shirt.”

He hums a little to himself as he pulls his shirt up, revealing the beginnings of a bruise on his tan skin that is already swollen and definitely going to get worse over the next couple of days. It looks like it continues below the waistband of his boxers, but you’re not about to tell him to pull his pants down.

“That’s ugly.”

“I’ve had worse.” He shrugs, biting his lip when you gently rest the makeshift ice pack against his side.

“You have a habit of falling out of trees?”

“I have a habit of being in potentially life-threatening situations. It’s kinda part of my job.” He says it like he’s waiting for you to figure something out, waiting for something to click.

You take a moment to just look at him again. His fluffy curls, his infuriatingly handsome face, his thick neck, his toned stomach. And then something you’ve heard your best friend say a million times echoes in your head.

I bet every F1 driver’s contract has a clause that says they have to be hot in order to get in. I mean, you have Daniel Ricciardo, Charles Leclerc, and don’t even get me started on–

“Oh my God. Lando Norris?” You exclaim, almost jumping up from shock but stopping yourself so you don’t jostle him. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“I thought you knew!”

You glare at him. “Cocky much?”

“Well, what did you think when I told you my name?” He asks defensively.

“I don’t know, I thought your parents really liked Star Wars or something.”

He scoffs at this and smacks your hand away, holding the ice himself. “That’s real creative.”

“I’m sorry! My best friend is really into Formula One, but the most I’ve seen is bits and pieces of a race. I’ve never seen you, y’know, not in your car.” You feel like your eyes are practically bugging out of your head. “Wow, this is insane.” You knew he was too good looking to not be famous.

“Want me to sign something for you?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“I will punch you right in your bruise.”

He stays for a couple more hours, readily enduring your endless stream of questions that follow your revelation of him being a Formula One driver, only getting a reprieve when the ice melts and you have to go get more.

He compensates for recounting his entire journey to Formula One by asking you his own questions the moment he’s done. You tell him more about how you became a writer– how you got your bachelor’s degree, got out into the world, and realized you had no clue what you wanted to do with your life, so you took a retail job. It paid a dollar above minimum wage, but it was worth it when something you heard a customer say once inspired you to craft a narrative that your editor liked enough to pick it up. She’d taken a gamble on you; you were her fourth client and the book wasn’t finished yet.

“So that’s why I’m out here,” you pause to catch your breath. “I need to have the manuscript done two weeks from yesterday, and I wasn’t getting anything done at home.”

“Needed a change of scenery.” Lando nods, like he can read your mind.

“Exactly.” You say quietly, suddenly feeling a bit self conscious under his intense gaze but refusing to look away.

The energy in the room shifts as the two of you look at each other, and you break the sudden eye contact when you take note of the fact that it’s dark out.

“I guess that’s my cue to leave,” he breaks the silence, pulling his shirt back down and letting out a quiet groan as he gets up. “I’ll see you tomorrow? There’s no way someone will be able to get up here to fix my ice machine by the morning.”

You blink at him a couple times, still trying to wrap your mind around the fact that you just spent hours talking with Lando Norris, all because he fell out of a tree. You didn’t even offer to make him dinner or anything, and he’s making plans to do this all over again.

You still haven’t spoken, so he waves his hand in front of your face. “Oh! Yeah, of course. Be careful, okay?”

He gives you an obnoxious salute. “I’ll try to survive the 50 steps it takes to get to my place from here.”

You go running for your laptop and start writing as soon as he’s gone.

He’s at your door in the morning, and spends the whole day with you. Then the next, and the next, and the next thing you know, you only have four days left in your best friend’s dad’s house and it feels like you and Lando have known each other your entire lives. He isn’t able to do much in terms of physical activity, and when he trips over a root after insisting he’s fine you make the executive decision to go back to your house.

“Make some room, would you?” You sigh, looking for a place to sit thanks to the fact that he’s taking up the entire couch.

He simply lifts his head up.

“You’re joking, right?”

“I’m in pain. Don’t you want me to be comfortable?” He pouts at you.

“You’re insufferable, and a liar.” All the same, you sit down, and he rests his head in your lap.

He ignores you, eyes closed with a satisfied little smile on his face.

For his antics, you decide to disturb his newfound peace by putting the ice pack directly on his face and laugh when he bats it away.

“That’s just mean,” he whines, pressing his lips together when you put the ice on his bruise.

It’s mostly yellow and green now, like a weird rendition of Van Gogh’s Starry Night. Lando had made a game out of poking it two nights ago that ended just as quickly when he poked himself too hard and blamed you for it when you had been in the middle of telling him not to. After that, he hadn’t touched it, and now it looks a lot better. The ice probably isn’t needed anymore, but you’d prefer to err on the side of caution.

“You’ll live,” you say now, patting the top of his head to distract him from the discomfort.

“The last time I had a bruise this bad was when I crashed in Vegas last year.” He says, blinking up at the ceiling. “Took a while to go away.”

“I think I remember hearing about that. You crashed pretty early, no?”

“Yup. Barely got to race.” The sentences come out very clipped, like he’s still upset about it.

“It was a bad crash, huh?”

“Pretty bad.” You don’t have anything to say in response to that, so you start brushing your fingers through his curls. He relaxes instantaneously.

He almost falls asleep with his head in your lap, and that’s when you can’t take it anymore and have to kick him out. He’s almost to the last step when he stops and turns back, making direct eye contact with you.

“Y’know, it’s too bad you weren’t there when I crashed.” He gives you a soft smile. “You’re pretty good at taking care of me.”

Well, shit.

There’s a bottle of cinnamon whiskey sitting in one of the kitchen cabinets that you’ve been waiting for an excuse to open. You should drink it now when you’re thinking about him, but you decide to wait until you see him again.

You open your laptop and write until you fall asleep.

By the time you let him in the next morning, you’re stumped again. You only slept for a few hours and expected to get right back into your groove the moment you woke up, but when you read over what you wrote last night, your brain just refused to comprehend it. It feels like you’re back to square one, but you can’t be too upset about it when Lando makes his way through the door. He doesn’t mention anything about ice like he usually does, which makes you equally happy and disappointed. Happy that he’s feeling good enough to forego the ice, disappointed because that means that there’s really no reason for him to come over anymore.

But if there’s one thing you can expect from him, it’s his spontaneity.

“We should go out tonight.”

“And where exactly would we be going?” You ask, watching him kick back on the couch like he’s the one that lives here.

“I dunno, just outside, I guess. You like stargazing?”

“I love it.” You reply enthusiastically. “I bet the stars are gorgeous out here. I’ve been cooped up every night, I haven’t had the chance to see them.”

“It’s settled then. Cancel your plans, you’re all mine tonight.”

“I didn’t— never mind.” You silently will away the flush creeping up your neck. “Actually, I wanted to ask you a question.”

“Shoot.”

“How’d those pictures come out? The ones you were trying to take when you fell?” You lean over the back of the couch in order to actually see him as you’re talking to him.

“That was two questions.” He laughs when you smack his shoulder. “I got a couple action shots as I was falling. They’re terrible, but I’m thinking about keeping them for the memories. Fun story for the kids, don’t you think?”

“Sure.” The kids?! You’re definitely breaking out the whiskey tonight. It’s the first (and only) thing you grab when he goes back to his place to get a blanket.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” You ask the moment the two of you step onto the trail, and he puts a hand over his heart.

“Your concern for me is adorable.”

“I’m only asking because you almost ate shit last time.” You burst out laughing at the immediate change in his expression.

He ends up leading the way for a mile or two before you reach a clearing that you would’ve discovered had he not fallen out of the tree.

“This is beautiful,” you muse, taking in your surroundings as Lando lays the blanket on the ground.

The sun is just about set, a light breeze passing through; a few different wildflowers are waving throughout the clearing. You look around and can’t see any sign of civilization. While that should make you nervous, since you’re with a guy you’ve only known for less than two weeks, it instead makes you relax. You forget entirely about your computer waiting for you back at the house and busy yourself with getting the top off the whiskey bottle.

“Found it the second day I was here. I’ll have to show you the pictures I got once I upload them all.” Lando says, furrowing his eyebrows as you struggle with your task. “Need some help there?”

“Be my guest,” you hand it over and have to force yourself to remain calm when he pops the top off like it was nothing.

“Ladies first,” he hands it back.

With pleasure, you think to yourself. Maybe getting drunk will help you stop acting like a schoolgirl. You take a generous drink, squeezing your eyes shut and breathing out slowly. “That is strong.”

“Hand it over.” He lets out a low whistle as soon as he swallows and returns it to you. “Wow.”

“I actually had a dream like this once,” you say, wincing at the burn of the whiskey as it slides down your throat. “I was just laying there, staring at the stars, with no worries. It was so peaceful.”

Lando takes the bottle from your outstretched hand. “I don’t dream.”

“What?!” The high pitch of your voice slices through the night. “Are you serious?”

“Yup.” He takes a long sip from the bottle before placing it down in the space between you. “Never have.”

“That’s- that’s crazy.” You shake your head.

“I’d think it’s nicer that way, no?” he counters. “I probably sleep better than you.”

“I mean, I guess. But then you don’t have any crazy dreams to share.”

“You always remember your dreams?”

Now, you blush. You’re not sure why you’re embarrassed. “I, um… I keep a journal.”

Lando’s eyes widen. “No way.”

“I have dreams written down all the way back to 2015.” You confess, reaching for the bottle again.

He starts laughing, like he thinks you’re joking.

“I’m serious!” You exclaim, shoving his shoulder. “In my defense, I’ve actually come up with some ideas from my dreams. Fat lot of good they’re doing for me right now, but…”

Lando hums, eyes skimming over your now crestfallen expression. He passes the bottle back.

“Thanks,” you mumble, tilting the bottle up to your lips.

“I’m sure you’ll find some type of inspiration while we’re out here.”

“I only have two days left, Lan.”

He gestures for you to pass the bottle back, and you do. You watch as he takes a sip, looking from his lips, to his jaw, to his neck, to his Adam’s apple that bobs as he swallows. You’re really going to miss this view. He lets out a quiet hiss. “Damn, that’s strong whiskey.”

“I told you.”

There’s a lull in the conversation, and then he speaks again. “My ice machine got fixed.”

“That’s—”

“Last week.” He cuts you off, doing that stupid thing he does where he stares directly into your eyes.

Your heart is in your throat, and your voice is small when you reply. “Okay…”

“And I was supposed to leave three days ago.”

Now your jaw drops. “Why… Why are you still here?”

“Because you’re still here.” He answers evenly, the alcohol clearly working in his favor. “I initially came here for the same reason as you– needed a change of scenery. It’s summer break right now, and my friend Logan told me it was super nice up here. It is, but then I had my little mishap and… it’s been a lot better since you showed up. So I decided to stay a little longer.”

He’s close to you now, so close you can smell the whiskey on his breath, so you say the only thing you can think to say. “I can’t believe you fell out of a tree.”

“I can’t believe you took care of me this whole time.” He brushes your hair out of your face, and his fingers linger on your cheek.

Your internal giddiness rises when you realize he’s actually about to kiss you. Your stomach is doing Olympic level gymnastics and you don’t trust yourself to speak, so you let the whiskey do it for you: you kiss him first.

You can’t remember the last time you kissed anyone, but the moment he pulls you on top of him you know that you won’t ever forget kissing him.

“Lan…” you break away from him to catch your breath, smoothing his curls back from his forehead. You can just see the glint in his eyes as he stares up at you, and it’s borderline painful knowing that you only get to enjoy this view for two more days.

You don’t remember what you were going to say to him. It’s way too soon for “I love you,” and not the right time to say “I already miss you.” You still want to say both.

Like he can hear your inner turmoil, he silences it by touching his forehead to yours. “Kiss me again, please,” he whispers.

You don’t waste a second in giving him what he wants, wanting nothing more in this moment than to feel his lips against yours again. You’re careful to avoid his side as he lays back on the blanket, keeping a firm grip on your hips so you don’t go anywhere. You try to convey everything you want to say into the kiss: I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you. I know I’m going to miss you. Please don’t let me go.

He holds you closer and gently slips his tongue into your mouth, and you melt into him, knowing the whole while that Lando Norris has effectively ruined all other men for you.

Six Months Later.

Your phone is ringing in the other room as you’re in the middle of recounting the kiss to your best friend for the millionth time.

“Sorry, I’ll be right back,” you apologize. “It might be important.”

Thinking it’s your editor, because who else would call you at this late hour, you don’t look at the caller ID before you answer. “Hi, listen, I wanted to talk to you about—”

“The love interest falls out of a tree, huh?”

Your mouth falls open. “Lando?”

“That would be me. Or should I change my name to Darren?”

You roll your eyes, unable to stop yourself from smiling. “I thought you were never going to call me.”

You’d finished your manuscript the day before you went home. He’d been sleeping right next to you as you wrote the final words, and you should’ve brought it up that morning. Instead, you left your number on his porch the day you left, too deep in overthinking mode to actually face him and properly say goodbye. You truly didn’t expect him to call you after that act of such cowardice, especially after the two of you spent almost the entirety of your last days together at various levels of undress.

“I really wanted to,” he admits. “At least ten different times. I think Oscar might have assaulted me if I chickened out this time.”

“Yeah, because you won’t shut the hell up about her!” A voice in the background exclaims, and you hear something go flying.

“Get out!” Lando snaps, and you can hear Oscar’s laughter fading.

“Sweet of you to subject him to hearing all about me.”

“Come to the race at Silverstone.” He says before you can even finish your sentence. “I’ll pay for the flight, the hotel, everything. Just come.”

You feel like the floor just fell out from under your feet. “Lan—”

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” It’s said in a nearly unintelligible whisper, but his tone changes so suddenly you have to sit down.

“I can’t stop thinking about you either.” You confess. “That’s… kind of why I wrote you into my book.”

“Please, come to Silverstone,” he repeats, practically begging. “Come be with me.”

And when he finds you in the crowd after taking the win at his home race, and he wastes no time in wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his lips to yours for everyone to see, you’re immediately taken back to those two weeks you spent in the Adirondacks, where you finally found the inspiration you’d been missing your entire life.

note: this one goes out to my fellow writers who desperately wish their inspiration would fall out of a tree— writer’s block will never defeat us.

this got a little long, so if you’re reading this, thank you thank you thank you.

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are always appreciated <33

beautiful dividers by @/saradika !

tags (i’m sorry if i couldn’t tag you!): @venusacrossthestars @anathedivine @xfuckoffx @architect-2015 @violetiss3lfish @havaneselover08 @paigeworlds @whatever7justchillin @xoredmoonlightxo @dovieloovie @totowolffstablexoxo @maddie-bell @lalisgs11 @rrrraaaalllluuuu @formulasportworld @madisonbidaddy @anedpev @estherapz-blog @jess-wither @loveyatopluto @athena-artemis-dorian-gray @lou-larcher5 @clearlyabi @fizzpopsnap101 @fluerlaurent @mcmuppet @positiveaspirations @notturlover @crazymofo-96 @chanthereader @apollo-axolotl

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Cary Grant (The Philadelphia Story, His Girl Friday, Bringing Up Baby, Charade)—just the peak of old-school Hollywood sexuality. The glam, the suits, the gentle wit, the acrobatics, those eyes that always looked like they knew exactly what movie they were in and were laughing at the joke...

Vincent Price (Laura, Leave Her to Heaven, House on Haunted Hill, The Masque of the Red Death)—svelte, stylish, horrifying, beautiful, wickedly funny, camp and gorgeous and evil. he was an art connoisseur who advocated passionately indigenous art, he was an actual literal gourmet cook, he was so liberal he got greylisted during the mccarthy era for being too rad, he's my favorite muppets guest of all time

This is round 4 of the bracket. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage man.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Vincent Price propaganda:

Submitted: this fancam

Submitted: this entire Tumblr page

Cary Grant propaganda:

"My Golden Age of Hollywood professor, who was very outwardly gay himself, put it this way: Even though Grant's sexuality was kind of an open secret in Hollywood, the public couldn't know in any real way. But anybody could see that there was a queerness about him, so he was casted for roles where he physically embodies his masculinity in a non-explicit but queer way. Bringing Up Baby is famous for the scene where Grant wears a frilly robe (pictured below, but what people don't always realise is that he plays kind of an awkward nerd in that movie. He's a hot awkward scientist in a grand robe!!! Hot!!! In The Philadelphia Story, one of my famous movies of all time, he plays C. K. Dexter Haven, a rich, sarcastic, supposedly abusive guy. And yet, what we see is this laid back, dandy-ish figure, who absolutely does not feel threatened when a woman he supposedly loves (Katharine Hepburn) starts having feelings for, and hooks up with another guy (James Stewart). He lets a drunk Stewart into his office and helps him get his job back! Obviously that is the script and not the actor, but the whole film, and that scene in particular, shows him having this very queer attitude of openness toward Hepburn and Stewart, which is only amplified by the casting of Grant and his portrayal of the character. Anyway, this is not an essay arguing for The Philadelphia Story to be considered a queer film, all I will say is: he's super hot in it."

The link to the above mentioned frilly robe scene from Bringing Up Baby: "I just went gay all of a sudden!"

last minute cary grant propaganda: the last few paragraphs of that new vanity fair article about him and randolph scott that just came out 2 days ago on cary's birthday where he calls it "gravity collapse" and "love at first sight" and says their souls touched and and and i'm actually sharing this mostly because it makes me emotional but also because a vote for archibald is a vote for love. this is my message. apologies for sounding mildly insane.

[yuoimia]

DAY 5: KEEP THINKING OF ME ❅⋆⍋

summary: when you ‘forget’ to kiss him goodbye.

characters: alhaitham, lyney, neuvillette, xiao.

notes: i have this weird thing of progressively making the paragraphs longer than the previous, wanted to try a different format, gn! reader. wc: 160 - 200 per character.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ dreamy december event masterlist

alhaitham

Let’s be honest, he’d remind you.

Alhaitham is attentive to detail, fairly organised when it comes to routine, and certainly notices when something that ties his hasty mornings together is forgotten. He likes to say the work of a scribe is so endlessly dreary that he should be at least deserving of some reward. Preferably, though not outwardly stated, affection in the form of a tender kiss of your silken lips, brisk, energetic or longing, he’s not fussy.

Alhaitham believes that your affection is one of the only divine cures that could possibly be the remedy to the multitude of poisons inflicting his sanity. You find it a little funny; who knew the Akedemiya’s renowned scribe and former Acting Grand Sage could be so dramatic?

So, when you do forget to kiss him before he exits the door, he makes sure to mention it, makes sure that you won’t forget the next morning, because otherwise, the Akedemiya would have to deal with a missing employee.

lyney

The thing with Lyney is…he probably had more than plenty before he even reached this dilemma.

Throughout the day, from the first sunbeams to the final streaks of moonlight, he was quite bold when it came to the showers of love he craved most frequently. In truth, Lyney considers a day terribly incomplete if he hasn’t been exposed to the warm feelings of your beloved affection. He sincerely promises you that the simple regret doesn’t leave his mind, despite all the distractions he hopes to divert his thoughts revolving madly around you. Something that beautiful should never go overlooked.

Depending on the cruciality of the situation, he’d turn back and come knocking on your door with such a solemn expression that you’d assume that someone had died. The question would arise, his voice uncertain and curious, “Did you forget something important this morning?”

The best option would be to just give him that precious kiss. You don’t want him to do anything too extreme for it, do you?

neuvillette

Did he upset you the night before?

Neuvillette’s knowledge of the complexities of human emotions and responses was, in comparison to anyone else, a little rusty, he admits. That, of course, does not stop him from trying. The often ‘lost in his thoughts’ face the people of Fontaine regularly noticed about him was merely Neuvillette grasping in the elements of human nature, for to deeply understand them was essential if he ever planned on living alongside them.

The lighthearted experiment was just to see how he would react—a small prank, you convince yourself—but perhaps, just maybe, the chief justice had sincerely thought you were mad at him.

You haven’t seen him all day.

Neuvillette seems to have abandoned the customary meeting spots you’d typically bump into him, and that’s when you know.

The idea of putting the blame on himself, making up some complicated scenario that was certainly not true, elicits a newfound determination to make it up to him, to apologise with the compensation of the truth.

That evening, you wait for the door to open, and when it does, you ensure the person entering is gifted the sincere caress of your lips—a few more than what he expects.

xiao

Xiao would continue on with his day. He’s fine, thank you for asking. So what if you forgot to kiss him goodbye?

However, it would be a downright lie to assume that he was 100% veritably unaffected. Xiao was never particularly good at masking emotions, but rather more skilled at intensifying them.

He’ll ponder and wonder; the same question answered with the same reply, repeating like a lament, carving into the inconsolable space of his mind. In other words, Xiao is sulking and in brutal denial of it.

You observe him from the distance, standing on the tip of a faraway mountain, and there’s a strong feeling that he’s gazing at you, too.

Call out my name, he almost begs, a foolish excuse to inexplicably confront you.

The sound of your voice summons him instantly; it breaks him out of his trance, and what you say next cuts through all the tragic thoughts he ever contemplated beforehand.

“I forgot to kiss you this morning,” you smile, playfully apologetic. “Did you realise?”

Xiao doesn’t say anything, there’s nothing to be said, but his actions prove all that needs to be said—how the corners of his lips tug just the bit upwards as he leans into you.

[carmenized-onions]

The Other Shoe | Consultation

logline; old wounds tend not to heal, if you don't let them. but, there is hot chocolate, and love. so perhaps that's enough.

[!!!] series history, this is the seventh; First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. Finally got Hozier on here. Don't know how that took me so long.

portion; 3.1k

possible allergies; two absolutely garbage mental states of people who are NOT over Mikey or the way they've been treated. Bunch of self-loathin, the whole lot.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (no pronouns!)

Took me a minute, new jobs goin' well though!! This one took a lot of stewing, lmao. Lot of staring and thinking. We'll talk after, but SO many alterations were made lmao.

It has been three weeks since you met Carmen in a freezer.

Six days since you were at his apartment. Ish.

Roughly forty-three weeks since the worst day of your life. Doesn’t feel like it.

In five days, you’ll have the second— Well, maybe third or fourth, worst day of your life.

But today is Monday, and you don’t know what’s coming yet.

It’s just after one in the morning, and you wake up to a phone call. Carmy. Yes, do not disturb was on. Yes, you’d set him on priority access— Which most people would find very cute and intimate, and it is— But he’s not the only one. It’s not a limited feature for people you want to kiss. There’s Syd, Richie, …Mikey…

Cause when is the right time to delete a dead friend’s contact info? It’s not right now. You know it’s not right now. And it probably won’t be tomorrow, either.

Phone call. You’re getting a phone call.

“Carm?”

“…”

You stir a little, bit, when there’s no reply, brain dehazing. “Carmy? Everything okay?”

You hear the beep of the phone call being ended. No way he butt-dialed you, right? You’re awake. You’re so awake. This feels all too familiar, and that's not a good thing. You immediately open your phone to text him, by the time you get to his contact, he’s already texted you. Actively texting you, in a rapid, manic succession.

‘fuck’

‘sorry’

‘you were supposed to be asleep’

Hm.

‘talking to a person hard right now?’

‘yes’

‘you’re so smart.’

‘easier to talk to robot you.’

‘wowwww’

It’s hard to write funny, right now. It’s hard to act like yourself, right now. You’re not sure how you’re doing it.

‘not what I meant’

‘I know. You’re you.’

‘you wanna send a voice message maybe?’

‘it’s fine. I’ll text.’

You give him time, you expect a paragraph since he’s taking so long, but instead you get,

‘can’t.’

‘carmen.’

‘I like you so much.’ Oh be still your stupid heart.

‘feeling is mutual.’

‘I can’t make my problems the only reason I talk to you’

Is that true? Fuck, that's kind of true, isn't it? But there's the puzzles! And there's been phone calls!

‘You talk to me for other reasons’

‘yeah. But it’s mostly problems’

‘with me.’

‘eh. Not really. Walk-in was you, toilet was Mikey, Nat had a baby, I’d consider the oven a shared problem of you and Syd’

‘oven was my fault’

He types for even longer this time. It’s hard not to interrupt him. When you start to type, he sends.

‘can I come over?’

‘I know it’s late’

‘I’ll come pick you up.’

‘no’

‘I’ll walk. I’ll be there in 20.’

‘it’s not a problem to pick you up.’ It's a problem if he doesn't let you pick him up.

‘I know.’

‘promise I just wanna walk. Get air.’

God, why are your fucking hands shaking he just wants to walk. He just wants to walk. Why can’t you bring yourself to believe people when they say that anymore?

Everything’s normal. It’s been a good six days for Carm, you know that it’s been a good six days. Everything's normal. You’ve kept a puzzle streak every morning, you’ve called him some nights, he’s called you some nights. He’s had a good week. He told you so. Everything's normal. You’ve vaguely flirted in that extremely sexual yet completely nonsensical way new situationships do, via text. People don’t do that when they’re on the brink of death, right? Everything's normal. Stop playing with your pendant. Relax. Put a shirt on. Stop being so fucking paranoid. Stop typing—!

‘can you do me a favour’

‘anything’

‘can you turn your location on for me’

‘not to be invasive. You can turn it off when you get here, I—’

Before you can even finish typing your explanation, let alone send it, he sends his location, trackable. He’s already walking.

‘be there in 18.’

You watch, with bated breath, his little contact photo bubble marching across Chicago to you. You make yourself mildly presentable and make hot chocolate on the stove—Gotta use milk, for Carmen— For when he comes to you, out of the cold. Because he’s going to come to you. He’s gonna be here. He’s gonna be here. You know that because you’ve been keeping your phone screen open and only look away to ensure you don’t pour milk on your stovetop and to blink.

He's here in eighteen minutes. You think if you had a stop watch going on, it’d be down to the millisecond. You open the door for him, before he can even knock. You watched his bubble walk up to your door. No point in waiting. You need to see him.

He’s breathing heavy. Held tight in his fist is a bundle of flowers— Importantly, not a bouquet, a bundle of flowers—Like, roots still on a few, visibly yanked out of the ground. Though seemingly from different gardens, since there's quite a variety. He looks at you, then down at the flowers, then back to you.

“I— I stole these.”

“Had a feeling.” You wave your hand for him to come inside, he does. “Are you okay?”

His steps falter, he seems downtrodden. You take the flowers, and then take his hand. He hesitates to speak, but he’s really trying to say fucking something. You squeeze his hand, it seems to help.

“I—” He swallows the spit caught in his throat. “I didn’t know— I— No. No, I did know— I knew the one place I had to come was, here. Had to go somewhere.”

You nod, you look over him. Silently doing a wellness check. You’re panicked. You’re so panicked. But he can’t know that. This is about him. You’re the one that takes care of people. He’s clean. He smells like Old Spice and you. He’s a little cold from the walk, he didn’t wear a jacket, but he’s warming up fast. He looks tired but not exhausted, which, for Carmy, is kind of as good as you’re going to get. He didn’t have the energy for a phone call, but he had the energy to come over and talk to your face; his social battery is wonky, but that’ll fix with time here. Is he hungry? That’s hard to tell on looks alone.

“You wanna talk about it, Bear?”

He nods, head down. Can’t look at you. You gently pull at his hand for him to follow you into the kitchen. “Made hot chocolate. You a marshmallow or whipped cream guy?”

His eyes are glassy, and his mood itself doesn’t change, but he does swiftly lift his head up to look at you with an incredulous, curious half smile. “You don’t do both?”

“I find it gets a lil’ busy. But I like the tiny marshmallows that come with the mix with whipped cream—”

“You gotta do actual cocoa.”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t like my hot chocolate to actually be rich. I want sweet.”

“You’re breaking my heart.”

“Good thing I’m a repairman, then.” You deadpan. He does actually seem to glow a little bit, at that. You repeat, hand full of flowers resting on your hip. “So both?”

“Both.”

He calms you down so easily, even when really, he was the oncoming stress— Or rather, your perceptions. He clears static for you, without effort. You nod, letting go of his hand— Slowly, withdrawing, like a silent promise that you will be back. You grab a paper towel and wrap the flowers in them, setting them down on the counter. You’ll plant them later. Honestly, kind of a better gift for you and your green thumb than a bouquet would be.

You turn to your oven to stir the pot of hot chocolate— Can’t have any fuckin’ clumps for Mr Michelin over here. Speaking of Michelin, he sidles up behind you and puts his head on your shoulder, hands hovering as if he’s going to hug your waist but simply cannot bring himself to.

He mumbles into your shoulder. “I lit my oven on fire.”

Ah. The oven was his fault. That's what he meant. When you pause and try to turn, that’s when he hugs you, holding you in place. “Please don’t look ‘t me.”

You take a deep breath, and continue to stir the pot. “Okay. I’m listening, not looking.”

“I did— I did it in my sleep. Not the first time. I think, I think they’re night terrors? But I don’t, don’t scream or nothin’— I don’t say shit actually. I don’t think.”

God, he’s insecure, even now, about how crazy you’ll think he is. Like telling your therapist everything that’s wrong with you except for the stuff that they might hospitalize you for. God, does he treat you like a fucking therapist? He’s awful. He’s awful for you. He’s awful for anyone. It doesn’t matter that you’re different��� The common denominator is him. He’s a fucking piece of shit—

“I wake up screaming sometimes.” You reply, so softly. You feel his short nails dig into your sides just slightly for a second as he remembers where he is. He’s over your shoulder. No one’s over his. “Happens to the worst of us.”

You grab two mugs from the cupboard— Reaching with the arm he’s not leaning on. “Did you put it out or should I be calling my former C-F-D crew?”

“I put it out.” He notes your mugs. They’re mismatching. One is definitely handmade with messy floral patterns, the other a tourist trap Chicago mug.  They’re perfect. “I—I was cooking something, in my sleep— And then— Then the fire starts.”

You ladle the hot chocolate into the mugs— Usually you’d just pour it straight but you don’t want Carmen to watch you inevitably spill half of it on your counters. You nod, “Do you dream that you’re cooking?”

“K-Kinda? I’m not cooking, I’m the Head, the expediter— And, and my Exec is over my fucking shoulder and he’s— Just in my head.” He swallows, thinking of how to explain without explaining. “And then I wake up, and there’s a fire, and I watch it grow, and I think about what it would mean if I just let it, and how I’d want it to.”

“And then you put it out?”

“And then I put it out.”

“Do you wish you didn’t?”

“I don’t know. And it’s fucking with me. ‘Cause— ‘Cause things are really good right now.” You tense under him, and he knows it’s because you don’t believe him. “They are, they really really are. Sug bein’ away is… not easy, but, it’s, it’s okay—”

“Carm.” Your tone is so accusatory.

“It’s the same nightmare it used to be.” He doesn’t hesitate to correct as soon as you question it. He cannot lie to you. For one, you see right through him. For two, it’s you. You’d rather know he’s insane. For some reason. “It’s been hard. I— I know fuck all, about business, and, and we can’t afford to hire a fuckin’ replacement right now because we owe so much fucking money or the whole thing caves— But it’s— It’s been good.”

You grab a handful of mini marshmallows, splitting them between the two mugs. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nods into your shoulder. “Everyone is… happy, right now. It’s not always fuckin’ breezy but— Everyone’s, everyone’s okay. And I have somethin’ I can actually be proud of, right now. And I have— I — You’re around. N’ that, that has been good. For everyone.”

You hum. Heart full, at that. You awkwardly shift to your fridge, waddling like a penguin instead of turning, as not to disturb Carmen, he chuckles against your shoulder. “You can tell me to fuck off, y’know.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want you to.” You hug his arm to you. This makes him squeeze just a little tighter. You pull out a half-empty can of Reddi-Wip, shaking it violently, as instructed. “Say when.”

You hover the can over the tourist mug, he shakes his head. “Other one.”

He wants the handmade one. Your fingerprints are grooved into the handle. You ignore how insane this makes you feel, and spray whipped cream into the handmade mug. You’re waiting for him to say when.

It’s getting to a concerningly tall pile, at this point. You feel him swallow. He finally says the quiet thought out loud.

“I think I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Even in my sleep, I know it’s coming.”

You nod, you stop spraying. You think on it for a beat. You opt to be honest. “I am, too.” You nod. “I am, too.”

“What’d’you think it’s gonna be?”

You feel your neck flare red and hot, guilty. Horrifically guilty. Lifesaver. You spray whipped cream into your own mug. You don’t really want both whipped cream and marshmallows, but it’s a good way to disguise how shaky your hands are. You take a deep breath.

“Think you’re gonna realize I’m not as good as you think I am.”

He kind of, tugs at you, pulling you closer to him, as if to rebuke thee. “You’re very good, Tony.”

You just hum in reply, once again, the pile of whip cream grows— It sputters, and basically nothing is coming out, but you can’t bring yourself to move, so it continues to struggle. He lets you do this, for a moment, before softly, questioningly speaking your name.

You just hum, again. Everything’s fine. Everything’s normal. This isn’t even about you, this is about him. “I’m good.”

“You are.” He declares, like it’s law. He grabs the empty can from you hand and puts it on the counter, then turns you around to face him. You keep your head down, there’s every chance you throw up and die if you— “Look at me.”

“I know—” He does not give you the chance to excuse yourself, he grabs your chin, softly, but still, forces you to look at him.

“You’re very good.” Too much eye contact. Too close. Too sincere. Too much— “Too good, too good for anyone.”

Too good for him. You, of course, don’t think that. But that’s exactly why you’re too good. “I’m not gonna change my mind ‘bout that.”

“…Hope so.”

Carmen can see it, now. The way your jaw clenches, how you’re looking past him, not at him. The way you mirror how he imagines he looked in the walk-in, to you. He decides to take a page out of your book, and hugs you close. “Know so.”

Your chin hooks over his shoulder. You stare down the hall of your apartment, brain somewhere else. He stares over your shoulder at the hot chocolates, whipped cream slowly melting and overflowing onto the counters.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asks, and you can’t help but smile at the ridiculousness of it.

“I—It’s not—This about you, not me—”

“It’s both. It can be both.” The shared burden.

You sigh, putting your arms around his shoulders. “…I’ll talk about it eventually, I promise. Just not… Ready—Right now.” You’re not ready to risk him no longer liking you. You need a little more time to be selfishly avoidant. “Eventually, though.”

He nods. He gets it. He does it.

“How do you think the other shoe’s gonna drop? If it does?”

This was the exact question he didn’t want, but you answered it, kind of, and that means he has to answer it, kind of. He relaxes his hold on you. “Think you’re gonna see me when I’m— When I’m not me— When I’m— I’m like, like my fuckin’ family.”

When he’s angry. When he yells. When he’s mean. When his crises don’t take the form of hibernation. When he’s frightening.

“Think once you realize, you’ll leave, and it’ll all leave with you.”

When he said that everyone’s happy at The Bear, he knows it’s because you’re back in the atmosphere. You bring a lightness that he never could, that he always envied in his brother. He honestly needs to break something at The Bear to get you to come in soon, because it’s been two weeks since you made everyone coffee, and your presence is only finally starting to wain in power. He really needs to start paying himself so you can get on bar.

“I don’t love being yelled at, certainly.”

You know what acting like his family means. Mikey used to do it. When things got bad. And while you got better and better at being understanding, still never managed to keep yourself from tearing up. “But it’s nothing that would make me leave. Nothing that’s not worth it.”

Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking Christ. His bad side, his anger, his violence, his teeth, the parts of his functionality that he hates, you consider worth dealing with, for the sake of the rest of him.

It reminds him, of a question that’s been on his mind for a while now. His chin digs into your shoulder, a little bit. He swallows.

“Do you really not think taking care of people is a lot of work?”

You frown, thinking about it. It is a lot of work. It’s exhausting work, rotten work, to take care of people.

“It is a lot of work.” You tilt your head, kiss his clothed shoulder. “But it’s just pure instinct, to do. “I care therefore I care, or somethin’.”

“What a poet.”

“Fuck off.”

You both laugh; then comfortable silence. He’s the first to break it. “You’re good.”

“We’re both good.” You pull back to look at him. Nothing has truly been resolved, and yet he looks more at peace. Thank, God. You’re doing a good job. You’re not failing again. “You wanna go drink these barely warm hot chocolates in my bed and pass out?”

“Please.”

Carmen never turns off his location, and he never will. He doesn't ask why you want it. He takes advantage of the whipped cream on your nose and the severe lack of napkins in your bedroom when he can. He replaces the Cubs jersey wearing bear in your arms, that night. He hopes he will forever, he's pretty sure he won't.

In five days, this Friday will be the worst Friday of your lives.

But neither of you know that yet. The painting is still not finished, he hasn’t yelled at anyone around you yet, Carmen still doesn’t know about the necklace you’ve tucked under your shirt every day for the past year.

The other shoe still hangs in the air; but not in your bed.

You pray it’s fall will not wake the bear.

FUCK bro.

It was tough writing in a way that was coherently incoherent. Like, neither of these two want to talk about their problems, so they are vague, but I know what the fuck is going on-- And hopefully you kindddaaa get what's going on?? There's still a little mystery I'm holding on for myself, hehehe. I'm very curious if anyone has theories by now tbh. What's this hidden part of Tony's life!!! They're usually so open!!! So what's this shit!!!

I cut out like a WHOLE 300 words of them doin' a smooch because it just made no fuckin' sense. They're both in emotional hell, couldn't force it, even if I wanted it. But there was the cuddlin' and nose kissin' in bed. So I think that's a good caveat.

But the most insane part of this chapter for me, and you'll see later, THIS chapter and the next,,,,, 3 chapters? Were all gonna be ONE. I know. Nuts. I was essentially gonna format it like all snippets of this one week, because as we know, Fridays gonna be the worst friday! But I realized like a quarter way through writing this one, that it simply couldn't just be a snippet. It needed to breath as it's own full thing. As did the next 3 chaps. I think they'll be a lot more digestable this way and also it won't force me to hole away for a fuckin month writing it without giving you a single morsel of content.

Anyways, tell me what the fuck you THOUGHT!! I'm excited to hear thoughts, hopefully all good ones~~~

Next Part

[screaminglygay]

KINKTOBER day 5

pairing: ghostface! sam carpenter x fem!reader

summary: you and sam are besties, but do you tell each other everything? (what is this? i dunno)

warnings: smut!!!, dom!sam x sub!reader, sam is a big meanie for a little, spanking, degradation, dirty talk, swearing, killing mentioned, tiny bit of knife play, slapping, crying, not proofread, if anything else, let me know - I’ll add it

word count: 4.4k

an: enjoy I guess, let me know your opinions, also thanks for so much support with wanda, tbh I though that it won’t do this great, but it did and all of you are so horny freaks, including myself, but truly I appreciate it!!!💕💕

(italics = your thoughts)

!MDNI!

Enjoy this spooky season and be safe!

The phone rings again, hidden caller. Picking up a secret number is really not your style. You let it ring, if they truly need you, they will write you a message.

Buzz.

Oh and they do need something important. You take your phone and look at the notification.

Hidden number

8:36PM

Call me ASAP, please! I can´t open the excel!

You calmed down a little bit as it was probably your classmate and accidentaly made their phone number hidden. Taking a deep breath before calling someone was always your go to thing, since the whole situation is very stressfull, you´d much rather write a long paragraph over a text, then just call someone. But since it´s about school, you´re less nervous.

You finger touch the last missed call and it starts to ring, as soon as you see that the other side picked it up, you started to speak.

"Hey! Sorry, I didn´t hear the phone. Anyways what´s going on with that file?" You took your notebook in case you have to make step by step tutorial to your classmate, because it wouldn´t be for the first time.

"No one ever told you lying is bad, (Y/N)?" You didnt recognize the voice, it wasn´t a voice you remember anyone having from your class, or the whole school. It was deep, raspy and mostly scary. You didn´t like horrors very much, but you were positive that you´ll get prank called or jumpscared by some idiot. And here they are, idiot on the line, at least that´s what you think.

"Haha very funny..." You´re mostly annoyed, but there is this side of little you, who is hoping this is truly your idiot classmate and no one else. "Do you wanna help with the sheet or not?"

Long big sigh can be heard on the other side. "And I thought you were a nice girl, (Y/N). Guess I was wrong. Don´t worry, we´ll work on that."

Now your little scary thought became a little bit bigger. You weren´t so sure it was someone you know.

"Who am I speaking with? Sorry, I don´t have your number added." You hoped they would say your name, you would stop panicking and it would be done it two minutes.

"Someone who likes to play games. (Y/N), would you like to play a game?" the raspy voice asked.

"No, thank you." Out of nervousness and mostly fear you hang up. You didn´t even realize until you stoped hearing the rapsy breath. Even if there was a truly a classmate who wanted a help, they shouldn´t prankcall you. Gosh how much you hated these things.

The phone didn´t ring again for quite some time, so you just let it go. Taking a long shower sounded like the best idea now. Out of the closet you took oversized shirt and some shorts and you headed to the bathroom. Doing your usual skin care routine went on automatic and brushing your teeth as well.

Coming back to your room, you notice that you left your closet opened, you sigh and close the door. Being too tired to prepare your clothes for tomorrows school day. As you lay on your bed, you hug your big teddy bear and your eyes immedietly close as you drift to sleep.

...

The next day goes smooth, first lecture was actually really interesting and you didn´t felt tired at all. You had your morning coffee and today was just a good day, you could feel it. You didn´t have those in a while, so it is very welcome.

Second lecture was indeed boring, but at least you know that the human eye blinks an average of 4 200 000 times a year, which is... a new information, that´s for sure. But the professor ended class sooner, so at least you had more time for lunch. And that´s a plus.

As you´re sitting alone, eating your lunch on a bench in a park, where you like to spend your free time between the classes, someone taps on your shoulder.

"Oh hi, Sam!" You smile, seeing your friend always makes your day better. "What are you doing here, I thought you´re working today." You scoop so Sam can sit next to you.

Sam met you when you were running late, literally. You two bumped into each other few months ago and because you spilled your coffee on her, you just had to pay for it somehow. So after you quickly gave her your number and basically sprinted out, Sam made sure you´ll keep your promise. And you did, few days after that you two met again and over a coffee realized how much things you two have in common.

She seemed like a cold and closed of person at first, but she is actually the sweetest teddy bear, as you like to call her for fun. Sam told you many times she hated it, but you made a good points that she is just so sweet, big and you feel safe when you´re around her, just like with teddy bear in your bed. And she was a taller than you, so that´s another point. After few "arguments" she actually let you win, so she is now your big and protective teddy bear.

You two started to hang out more and more, which just confirms your initial click, that Sam felt as soon as she laid her eyes on your sweet and innocent face.

"Well maybe I lied and I wanted to suprise you." Sam answers as she sits next to you.

"I am surprised," you giggle. "I have like a hour and something before my next lecture, so..." You look at your phone.

"Good." Sam smiles and tilts her head, she notices that you´re smiling ear to ear. "What got you smiling like that, (Y/N)?"

"Hm... nothing in particular, but it´s just a good day. And I´m enjoying a every single bit of it." You answer and your cheeks start to hurt a bit from all the smiling, you did in the last 10 minutes.

"Oh, I see. As you should." She nudges your arm with hers. "What are you doing after school?"

"I have to finish some excel to my statistic class, but besides that... nothing." Your thoughts are taking you back to last night and your weird call, with who you thought was your classmate.

Sam notices your smile fading and put her hand on your thigh, something she did pretty often, but it brings you butterflies everytime. "(Y/N)?"

"Hm? Yeah?" Sam just raises her eyebrow. "It´s nothing, I just had this weird person from school call me yesterday and... yeah, it was weird. A stupid prankcall." You roll your eyes.

Sam move her hand on your thigh up and down, trying to sooth you. "What did they say?"

"Just some stupid stuff, like do you want to play a game. Do I look like I want to play a game?" You sigh.

"Depends on the game. Horor game? Probably not. The Sims 4? Absolutely yes." Sam chuckles as you punch her arm.

"Every woman has her needs, mine is playing The Sims. Can you blame me?" You laugh, Sam always helps you with your bad and anxious thoughts.

The rest of your free time you two shared a lots of laughs, smiles and overall a good quality time together. Until you had to go back to your lectures, which made your day a little worse, since you wanted to keep talking to Sam.

...

Few hours later you finally finished all of your lectures for the day. You didn´t have that energy boost as you did this morning, but you´re still in a good mood. So you decided to walk from school back to your dorm. And even if it was October, it was still kinda warm outside so you put some soft music on and decided to walk.

Stepping into your dorm you notice that something is bad, you can´t point a finger on what it is, but the vibe seems off. Shaking off the feeling didn´t help for long, because as soon as you reach for your keys the ligh on the other side of the hall just turn off.

"Shit!" You flinch and your hands start to shake. As you succesfully get inside you lock your door faster than ever.

"Oh my god-" you take a few deep breaths. "It was just a light, (Y/N), everything is good. It was just a light." Mumbling out loud these words, in hopes that it will calm you down.

You turn all of your lights in your home on as a prevention for your mind from creating something that is not there. Lastly you go to your bedroom and open the door, you stop in your track in a moment when your eyes met a tall black figure next to your opened closet.

A cold shivers run down your spine, but with confidence it´s just your mind playing tricks you turn on the light even there.

But that choice just showed you, that this time, it´s not your mind playing tricks, but there is actually someone in your house. A tall black silluete turned into a big person with a black cloak and a white mask, looking like a ghost. You´ve seen this mask many times during Halloween parties. Quickly scanning the person you notice that they´re holding a knife. A knife!

"Oh fuck!" You qiuckly close your bedroom door, hoping you will get more time, but of course you had to lock all of your locks and jumping from a window was not an option since you´re living in the 9th floor.

Shit, shit, shit. Wait... I don´t hear anything.

The only thing that you can hear is your heartbeat, no steps, no breathing, just your heart. Looking back, noticing that the door you slammed shut before are now open again.

Your living in your worst shitty nightmare.

It´s a tap on your shoulder that almost makes you lose it. You let out the most horror scream in your entire life, you didn´t even think you could scream like that. The tall person with ghostface mask is standing right next to you, they shake their head and one of their hands makes it over your mouth to keep you shut. As soon as your bodies hit the floor, which suprisingly didn´t hurt at all due to all the adrenaline you have in you, right now. They pull their knife to your face and slowly slide it across your cheek, not hurting you in any way.

Your breathing gets faster and faster to the moment you feel like you start to hyperventillate.

"Hello, (Y/N). You cut our call last night, so I felt like meeting you in person, again, would help us solve the excel problem. Don´t you think?" It was the same raspy, deep voice you heard yesterday over the phone.

"I- uh s-sure." You nod as you mumble your answer agaist her hand, noting better came to your mind.

"Sure? Now you don´t have a problem with that, but yesterday you cut me off like I was a fucking no one?!" Now you were truly hoping that this is just a nightmare and you will wake up. "Isn´t it fair if i cut you off too? So you would now how it feels?" Their knife is swinging infront of your face again.

"I- No, please, don´t. I- i uh I´m sorry!" You mumble agaist their hand.

The person on top of you just laughs and bring your hand above your head and now you can´t move at all.

"I think it´s fair, you know how shitty I felt? And today you´re doing like nothing happened? Like I was just.. what did you described me as... as a weird person who said stupid stuff?" Their face coming closer to you. "I think it´s fair to show me some fucking respect." you feel a slight sweet cologne coming from that person.

A scent you know very well, It starts with a fresh burst of citrus, like a mandarin. With a little hint of vanilla and amber adds depth and warmth. This scent is a subtle and comforting, like a cherished memory to you. A cherished person, you know too well.

It can´t be...

Your eyes shift, looking over the mask again, your eyes anaylzing from side to side, like you´re trying to read their mind through the eyes on the mask.

They tilt their head again, the knife slowly going away from your face. You hope that what you thing is just a big misunderstanding, it can´t be her. Not your Sam.

"Sammy?" You mumble as their hand is going away from your mouth. Few tears forming in your eyes.

"Oh look at you, you figured it out." She takes her mask of and it was like a bullet straight through your heart. "Now be quiet or I´ll shut you up." She picks you up, like nothing and wallks quickly into your bedroom.

This was not your Sam, not your friend, she look like her, but her actions were the exact opposite of your comfort person.

She throws you at the bed and you´re now laying on your stomach, she comes closer to you again and whispers into your ear.

"Every woman has her needs, mine is playing with you, (Y/N). Can you blame me?" She chuckles as she repeat what you´ve said earlier. "Ass up." She put her hands on your hips and you put your ass up, as she told you. Too scared to do anything else. "Good girl." Sam praises you.

"S-Sam.." you whine out between with your tears streaming down your face.

"Oh shush, did no one told you to speak nicely about your friends? And not talk-" she spanks you, hard, "shit about your friends?" Sam spanks you again, this time it was even harder.

"I´m sorry, Sam- I didn´t-" you try to talk, but it´s hard when your face is burried in the pillows.

"I. Dont. Want. To. Hear. It. Now." Her voice was harsh and so was her hands on your ass with each words she growls into your ear, even when you have your clothes on, it still hurts too much. "Just take what I give you and then we might talk." Without any warning she takes your pants off, slicing your shirt and throwing it away.

"No bra?" Sam laughs. "You went the whole day without a fucking bra, you´re so pathetic, (Y/N)." She runs her knife on your back, she´s doesn´t want to hurt you really, at least not right now. "You did this on purpose? You´re look so innocent, but you´re not so innocent, are you?" Her hands find its way on your tits, she give them a tight squeeze and you can´t help, but let out a big moan.

You like this, which shock you more than the fact, that Samantha Carpenter broke into your house, just to play with you.

Her big strong arms, oh god how much you love her amrs. The way they hold you during your sleepovers, how they caught you everytime you walk into the street without looking both sides, or how they always brought comfort to you. Everytime.

But now? It´s totally different now, at least that´s what you think and Sam noticed that. And she can´t have you be thinking this much, when she wants to have her sweet time with you.

Her hands playing with your nipples, pinching each one very hard for you to come back to her. And you did, you realize just now that you´re not crying anymore, you´re just a moaning mess.

"You´re doing so good, look at you, mi amor, taking all the spanks as a punishment for how mouthy you were." You can sense the smile in her words and it´s like your Sammy is speaking to you, which instantly make your worries go away. Your body relaxes againt her and she can feel it, it´s like a small win for her. "Good, just like that."

You moan once again, it was more a needy moan than anything else. One second you´re on your stomach and the other one, you´re on your back, Sam holding your waist to scoop you closer to herself. She´s still wearing the black cloak, that don´t scare you anymore. If anything it is kinda attractive, that she´s still in her clothes and you´re just in your panties.

Looking at her with needy eyes was something that Sam saw a many times. Begging her to pick you up after school, or give you her hoodie, when you were cold. Or those many times when you cannot reach something, because it was way to high.

But this time you have this spark in your eyes, the good girl was gone, now Sam could really see the needy whore, who hid under the inoccent cover for the whole time. And this time Sam takes this as the ultimate win.

"Please-" you whine.

The most confident smirk appears on Sam´s face as her hands runs down your body, finally kissing your neck. "Please what?" Sam asks you between those sloppy kisses.

You let out another whine.

"I´m letting you speak, if i was you, i´d better use it." She bites your neck, which will definetly make a nasty bruise.

"Use me." Your move your head, so Sam has better acces to your neck.

"Oh wow, such a fitlhy words, for such a pretty little girl." She chuckles as she keep kissing your neck, her hands finding your tits again.

You never knew your nipples were this sensitive, but Sam knows. Of course she does. You feel as her hands are grooping your breasts, but you´re not satysfied, you want to see her, so you tug on her cloak and let out a whine.

"What?" She mumbles agaist your neck and then she pulls away to make eye contact with you.

"I wanna see you." You tug on her cloak again, "please."

Sam without a beat took her cloak off and she was now in her black underwear, sitting on top of you as your eyes wonder. She gives you a little time for checking her out and god you could stare at her for days. The light in your room making her muscles look even sharper, not that she needs it, but you just can´t have enough of her.

"You´re not so sad now, huh?" She smirks again, fuck how much you hated that confident smirk. Without waiting for your actual response, she dive back, her lips on your neck, making sure that after tonight everybody knows who do you belong to.

After a few minutes of Sam being basically a vampire, she starts to kiss her way down, slowly as she stops at your nipples again. Slowly, but hasrshly sucking on them, making sure to keep an eye contact with you. " Keep your eyes at me." You could cum just from watching her.

She treats you like a blank canvas, and as a skilled artist, she must make sure that you are painted with her in the end and with a pleasure you won´t forget.

Her big muscular hands are sliding down your body, pinching your inner thighs to tease you. She knows what you want, but she won´t give in that easily, even when you´re looking at her with those cute and innocent eyes.

Your hands are sliding off your panties, but Sam qiuckly takes your hands. "They are staying on and keep your hands above your head." Her raspy voice sends shivers down your pussy, that is now drenched, because of her touches and skilled movements.

You put your hands back above your head, wiggling a little to show Sam how impatient you are. She just sends you a quick slap on your thigh and you giggle.

Her finger slowly going up and down your clothed pussy, you can already see how wet your panties are and if Sam wasn´t that needy, she would make fun of you. Seeing you like this gives her so much power and let´s be real you are really feeding her ego.

"Sam!" You move your hips up, hoping she will actually do something.

"(Y/N)!" She mocks you with innocent smile on her face.

"Fuck- I need your fucking hands in me or I swear I´m gonna lose it!" You did lose it already.

"You want my fucking hand in you? You like my hands?" Sam whispers.

"I do! So much! I need your big hands in me, please!" You shift towards her again.

"Aww pretty little girl, do you think that your pussy will take my big hands?" Sam´s finger barerly toucing your slit.

"Yes! I can take it!" You think that you will be crying from the frustration.

"Say it."

"My little pussy will take your big fucking fingers! Hands! Whatever you give me, I can take it, Samantha!" You groan.

"Oh you´re using my full name, you really need it, huh?" She smirks again, but your wish is her command and in the end she wants to make you feel good. Pushing your panties to the side, your juices are everywhere and god she loves it.

"Is this for me?" Sam softly asks.

"Only for you." You give her a small smile.

"In that case-" she slides her two fingers in you, slowly pushing in and out. Sam already feels your pussy pulsating and her fingers get almost swallowed by you. "Oh wow, I was so wrong about you and I´m so happy I was." She adds another finger.

You whine, you feel aready so close, your pussy is feeling like it´s on fire, your hips going up and down and Sam´s just enjoying the view. You want more, so you feel like grabing Sam´s hand is a good idea. She raises her eyebrow and slip her fingers out of you.

You whine out, immedietly feeling empty, you feel like you gonna burst out, you really need to cum, but now you lost everything that felt good.

Sam slaps your pussy one time, but damn it´s painful. "I said, keep your hands to yourself." Her fingers slides quickly back into you, both of you know, that you´re very close.

"Ple-" you can´t even finish the word without a moan.

"Go on, scream. I want you to fucking scream my name, mi amor." She uses both of her hands now, one sliding in and out of you and the other one playing with your clit, which is something that gets you over the edge pretty easily.

Your whole body flex under her touch, this is the best release you ever had, it felt better than anything in this world, she definetly know what she´s doing. As you scream her name, Sam slows down her movements, for you to ride it all out, without being too overstimulated.

Sam gives you two kisses on each of your inner thighs and then kiss her way back up. She´s smiling and you are too.

The atmosphere went from being scared of your life to you having THE time of your life.

"There you go, little girl. How are we feeling hm?" Sam whispers into your ear as she wraps her strong hands around you.

"Fucking confused." You let out a small giggle.

"Watch your tone, young lady." Her hand squeezes your wrist.

"I- I´m good. Just... what just happened?" You lean into her.

Sam laughs as you´re confused. "You know I hate Halloween, you scared the living shit out of me with this prank, Sam. If you wanted to... you know, you could´ve just asked. I though you were some murderer!" You lazily mumble as you are half asleep already.

"Yeah and I love Halloween and asking you for a fuck session is not so fun. Me a murderer? Oh please." She kisses your head.

"Hmm.. whatever." You are too tired to have this conversation with her.

As you fall asleep in the arms of Samantha Carpenter you felt happy, today was really a great day.

Sam made sure you were dead asleep before getting up from the bed, but as soon as she did, you instantly start to move in discomfrot. She quickly grab your teddy bear and made you cuddle him instead and her plan worked. Cute smile was on your face again and Sam was glad you had this stuffie here as a replacement for her, when she needs to do her job. She knew you will be overthing when you woke up to an empty bed, so she quickly scribble down a note.

"I´ll call you later, I had to go to work, -s"

She took her knife that was laying on the ground, take on her cloak and last but not least take on her ghostface mask and went to work.

She was never a murderer, she was and still is just a protector. Especially when it comes to you.

…

Of course you had to call Sam, when you heard the news.

"Hi, how is my sleepyhead?" She chuckles into the phone.

"Hey, um... did you hear the news?" You quickly say to her, as you´re almost out of breath.

"What news?" She asks you.

"There was a murder, someone in a ghostface mask was seen few streets from my dorm. They killed a girl from my statistic class, I mean... I didn´t know her, but it´s still scary." As you say this, goosbumbs appear on your arms.

"Oh shit, that´s... scary even for me. Are you okay?" Sam asks with concern.

"Yeah, I didn´t know her or anything, but it´s crazy. Especially when you can buy the mask anywhere, since you have it too." You ramble over the phone.

"Right. It´s like I killed her, right?" Sam responds.

"Sam, don´t joke about these things. Can you maybe come to mine after work?" You really need her, to protect you and make you feel safe again.

"Give me 15 minutes." And with that Sam hang up. Drove away from the empty parking lot, where she watched your classmate, Tony. She heard a few stories from you, that Tony was being a dick during your presentation and no one can be a dick to you. No one.

And today is Tony’s lucky day, because you need her now and that´s way important. When she´s with you, no one can hurt you.

Only she can and that´s how it should be all the time.

Thank you for reading! Have a great day!!! And tell me what you think<3

[dabisbratz]

LIPLOCKED — yuuji itadori+megumi fushiguro x male reader

w.c: 2.2k

cw: nsfw, vanilla! short, first kiss, fingering, rimming, polyamory, praise, cliffhanger (kinda) ending, slow n steady, brief mention of horror movie elements, ambiguous genitalia, virgin reader, bottom!reader, all characters depicted as 18+

a/n: i was writing this mid-paragraph when i realized we reached 2k!!! imagining that many ppl in same room, staring at me, is so terrifying… but i’m glad it’s you guys!! thank you so much!! it means the world to me.

Three boys step into the crisp, winter air with miscellaneous bags draped over their strong arms. Railings are decorated with a thin, frozen chrysalis, where you catch a small glimpse of yourself in passing. Not too bad— nothing compared to your boyfriends, though. With their pretty faces and pretty eyes… Pretty lips and pretty hair. It’s gnawing at you.

Wafts of chilly air against your poorly concealed skin keeps you alert, a tremor racking down your spine as your boyfriends—Yuuji and Megumi—walk before you. There’s something on your mind, lilliputian embers of shame etched into the details as you watch them walk, confident strides that guide their movement. Megumi’s dark hair bounces with stride, his pale hands stuffed into the pockets of his black sweatpants and chin buried beneath the collar of his matching zip-up. Should’ve worn a coat.

Your teeth chatter, loud as they click against each other— but neither seem to notice. Maybe it’s the growing distance as you trail behind, chewing at the insides of your cheeks. You scan their bodies from behind, try to imagine the muscles of their backs rippling while they walk— how the tendons in Megumi’s hands flex and bend as he curls them into fists. The broadness of Yuuji’s shoulders, how his strong legs bend with each step. The cotton-candy tufts of hair that look soft and smooth… the way dark hair curls up at each end.

You’re approaching Yuuji’s home, in the heart of Sendai city, where the trees adjust themselves and prepare for spring's welcome. There’s a high blush at the apples of their cheeks, peachy and pink, that decorates their boyish faces. Your eyes linger to their lips, shiny and moisturized, as they move to speak. You want to press your lips against them so badly, kiss them, but…

You don’t know how.

There’s a worry to your lips, plump and pouty as you clasp your cold hands to your chest. The tremble isn’t just from the cold, there’s a shiver dancing down your spine as you imagine their lips on yours, warm and inviting and wet. Heat tugs at your skin, and despite the cold air being pushed past your body, you’re warmer than ever.

Yuuji invites you inside with a smile, already shuffling to kick off his shoes before he’s even through the door. A small smile pulls at your lips, admiration blooming in your eyes as Megumi walks through with a solemn nod, and invites himself in.

Have they kissed before? Eachother, at that? Your eyes follow Yuuji’s movements, the way he jumps onto Megumi’s shoulders and grins when the man suggests a future trip to a hot spring. They’re impossibly close, Yuuji’s lips ghosting over Megumi’s flushed cheeks with barely half an inch to separate them.

A frustrated whine exudes from your throat as you stand in the doorway, body stuck between hot and cold as the wind blows against your back— but your front ignites with heat.

What do you say? Hey, Yuuji! Just wanted to know if you’ve made-out with anyone before! Hey, Megumi, wanna lock lips? Hey—

“Hey, honey? You okay?” Oh, Yuuji. His voice is kind, still a pretty chirp that remains syrupy sweet as he waves his large, scarred hand above your face. “Your eyes look… Funny. C’mon, don’t stand in the cold.”

You stare back dumbly, eyes glassy as he pulls you forward and shuts the door behind you. Megumi’s seated on the couch now, remote in hand as he flicks through his choice of horror movies. His cheek envelops his palm in lukewarm warmth just before he lifts his head, sniffling as he soaks in copious amounts of air through his nose. The muscles of his cheek tense, having been squashed against his palm for a despicable amount of time. But it seems he’s caught your gaze, the tiniest fragment of a smile gracing his lips. He’s inviting you to sit.

How long have you been standing around?

Sit you do, unzipping your coat and folding it into a neat square as Megumi makes room for his boyfriends. you hadn’t noticed it before, it’s much warmer in Itadori’s home. Warm, tinted with yellow and full of something that makes you feel sleepy. Comfy. Vulnerable.

You want to tell them.

Yuuji settles next to you, so you’re between them. You feel your body sinking into the faux leather by the minute, a hazy edge dancing along your eyelids as you make yourself comfortable, comfy enough to fully relax. Their warmth is so inviting, holds you close like a childhood blanket, feels soft against your skin. You can’t help but rub your eyes, nodding your head despite the oh, so exhilarating display of fake blood and guts projecting on Yuuji’s flatscreen TV. Guess being a sorcerer really does get you somewhere.

“Are you sleepy?” Megumi asks, tearing his gaze away from the particularly teamy cutscenes of two characters—who look oddly perfect, might you add— shedding their clothes as they make-out. Would that… Be the same for the three of you?

“No, not that…”You’re quick to shake your head, pushing yourself up by your palms. They dig into the respective thighs of your boyfriends, punched sounds escaping their mouths as you sit up— much more alert now. They quirk their brows in unison.

You need to tell them.

“I don’t…. get…it?” The words tumble from your mouth, uncoordinated and enveloped in confusion. There’s a beat of silence as you gesture to the TV, watching the camera pan down milky thighs. It’s like a metaphorical record stops, scratches dead-center as your boyfriends whip their heads around to fully look at you. Your eyebrows are furrowed, gaze stuck on the embroidery of Yuuji’s pink letterman jacket. You’d rather look there as opposed to their faces, sure their handsome features are compacted into disgust.

“You don’t get ‘it’?” Yuuji echoes, an amused lilt in his voice as he nudges Megumi with a leather-clad elbow from behind you. The raven-haired male grumbles, blinking at you with an unreadable expression. “Like, sex, you mean—?”

“Or kissing?” Megumi cuts in, eyebrows pinched as his hands make fists against his sweatpants.

“Here,” You must be dreaming, you’re sure of it, because Yuuji’s hand is on your face— your cheek, and your vision is distorted by his handsome form. He’s close, too close, and his body heat permeates off his skin like a broken heater. Too hot. “Let us teach you.”

You nearly jump out of your skin, a tiny sound parting your lips as Megumi’s lips press against your cheek, soft and sweet and gentle. Zero hesitance behind it, almost as if he’s been thinking about it as much as you have. You deem it impossible, you’ve spent many sleepless nights imagining their lips on yours, how perfect they’d fit, how syrupy their tongues would taste… how the muscle would feel. Your stomach churns.

You let out a breathy sigh before your brain can catch up to your heart, the thrum loud in your ears as Itadori swivels you around to face him. You may as well be on Megumi’s lap, draped on his thighs as Yuuji inches forward to close the space between you.

“So we’re your first?” He says, pink hair bouncing as he leans down to focus his gaze on your lips. His tongue briefly darts along his own, wet and bubblegum pink. It’s like your senses have been put on overdrive, every touch is sensitive and lingering. Megumi’s fingers trailing up your arm, Yuuji’s hands resting at your waist. The sound of their breathing, quiet and hitched… The ambiance of the t.v., full of suspension and anticipation, much like your racing mind.

Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you nod.

Yuuji’s pupils blow wide, cinnamon eyes glistening as he blinks down at you. His laugh is breathless and rushed, like he’d been holding it in, and Megumi seems to share whatever similar thought is racing through the man’s head. Like clockwork, you feel their lips at the corners of your mouth, pillowy and feathery as a warm hand ghosts over your neck and holds you in place. It’s a grounding feeling, the warmth of pale palms against your throat.

You can’t help but hold onto the wrist anyway, fingernails barely scratching the surface of skin. Megumi’s hand, you’ve deduced, runs slightly colder than Yuuji’s. Rougher, too.

But his kiss isn’t any less soft, quite the contrary. It grows softer by the second, and you feel like putty in their hands as they begin to take turns pressing gentle pecks against your lips, slow and steady. Megumi tastes like salted caramel, a contradictory flavor that dances on your tongue and leaves the moment it arrives. Yuuji tastes like fresh bubblegum at the center of a lollipop, with sugar that lingers in every crevice of your mouth.

You can’t help yourself, stuck on the new feeling of a kiss, as you cup their cheeks and pull yourself in deeper, messily raking your tongue over teeth and gums. It’s messy, a trail of spit connecting your lips every so often… but it feels good. What were you so nervous about?

As if it’s now your turn to get down the mechanics, Yuuji is quick to lean over and press a chaste kiss against Megumi’s plush lips, full of half-taken breaths and quiet groans.

“‘Gumi..” You breathe, loud and shaky as your eyes flutter open and your heart stutters in your chest. The butterflies in your stomach have soon left, swallowed by heat and electricity that makes your thighs involuntarily spread. “Yuu..”

“Shit.” Shit. Megumi makes an effort to shield his face in his bicep, which glows a bright shade of red and blazes with heat. It’s your expression— eyes glazed over and expectant—that has him so worked up, the way your eyebrows sinch and your mouth falls open, desperate for air. Desperate for him. Yuuji, shameless as ever, has his hands under your shirt, inching his fingers upward to play with the sensitive bud of your nipple, coaxing a few more sounds out of you. It was just supposed to be a kiss, but..

“I can teach you more stuff,” He breathes, eyes fixated on the imprint of his hands underneath your shirt. He should rip it to shreds. “We can, if you want. I’d say I’m a pretty good teacher!”

He watches a smile form on your lips, a bit dazed and delayed. If he could, he’d look right into your brain, see what’s got that pretty head of yours turning into mush. But he can’t, so he instead settles for lightly punching your nipples between his fingers, rolling the bud until you’re arching further into his hands and nearly off Megumi’s lap.

“Hm?”

“Yeah,” You rasp. “Please, please.”

The boy’s grin grows, stretching wide across his face as Megumi leans down to envelop you in another kiss. Hot and wet, his tongue glides over your own as Itadori makes busy tucking the hem of your shirt under your armpits. He watches your body writhe, squirming under his gaze and pervading heat while you buck your hips into the air. It’s clear you’re not even aware of the action, the way you’ve lost yourself in Megumi’s lips and have yet to come back to the surface. If a simple kiss gets you this worked up then…

“Yuuji!” You moan, loud enough to frighten yourself. Your legs are hiked up onto his shoulders, spread embarrassingly wide as he spears you open on his tongue. Itadori licks a fat stripe down your perineum, lets his spit pool and slide down your ass until he’s circling the cute, puckered ring of muscle that consistently winks back at him. “You said you’d… teach me.”

“Shh, sh. See? I’m teaching you..” His voice is muffled between your thighs, and barely coherent as his tongue slips past your rim. “Look, can you see?”

“Mm-mm, s’too deep inside—!” You squeal, gripping Megumi’s forearm for support. Realistically, you know if you really wanted to watch his tongue disappear inside you all you’d have to do is sit up on your elbows, maybe even ask Megumi for help. But you’re not thinking realistically, if you’re even thinking at all. His eyes are murky and dark, emerald turned clover, as his hand grips the base of your sensitive, twitching cock. Your body can't help but convulse, trembling in Megumi’s arms as he holds you still.

You can feel his erection on your back, right where your spine curves to meet your neck, and an overwhelming part of you wants to turn around and emulate the movements of his fist pumping your own.

“Need you to do something for us..” Megumi says, eyes lazy and eyelids heavy as he looks down at your twisting face. “First official part of your lesson.”

And then you feel fingers. Yuuji’s working you open, slipping in a long, wet finger that you can’t stop your hole from fluttering around.. It’s too much. You’d only gotten your first kiss like… what, thirty minutes ago?

“M’gonna—”

“Go ahead, keep goin’, You can’t tell which half of that sentence is for you, but it doesn’t really matter. Your thighs tighten, toes curling as you moan into your dark haired boyfriend’s arm. You’re close, so close, about to reach the peak that you’ve only ever been able to dream about, and—

“Look at Yuuji, pretty,” It’s commanded straight into your right ear, dances around in your empty brain until your gaze snaps downward, and umber eyes meet yours. “Watch his tongue go in n’ out. Be a good boy for him, let us teach you.”

You’re cumming.

[onceuponastory]

one single word - bucky barnes x reader

Plot: In a world where the first thing your soulmate says to you is somewhere on your body, Y/N soon realises that hers is not what she expected... or what she wants. (Soulmate!AU). Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: Just some swearing and reader worrying she's going to end up alone. As always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know. Notes: This is my piece for @lunarbuck's Soulmate AU writing challenge! Congrats on 2k! Also can't believe it took me so long to use a pic of Seb from this day because he looked SO GOOD. Not beta’d, so any mistakes are my own.

“Has your word shown up yet? Just got mine!” Wanda’s text comes in. Groaning, Y/N types back a reply.

“Yup.” Immediately, Wanda sends another.

“It’s that bad? I’ll be straight over.” She promises, and Y/N goes back to staring at herself in the mirror, unable to tear her gaze away from the word which is now on her side. From a young age, Y/N and everyone else in this world were told that when they got older, the first words their soulmate said to them would soon appear on their body somewhere, disappearing only when they met the soulmate in question. And of course, it led to a lot of excitement and nervous apprehension as people wondered what words would be there, and imagined what scenario they’d meet their soulmate in. 

None more so than Y/N. As she grew up, she became an author, which meant that writing loving words about others became her job, and something she now has a huge amount of experience in. All day every day, she writes paragraph after paragraph of people describing how beautiful their partners are, how much their heart beats whenever they’re around, and how they want to spend the rest of eternity with them. And the entire time, Y/N’s own soulmate is in the back of her mind, as well as her hope that their first meeting is as romantic as her stories. So obviously, Y/N had grown to expect that the words - her words - that her soulmate would end up having on their skin would be something beautiful, like poetry.

Unfortunately for Y/N, though, it seems her soulmate didn’t have the same consideration for her.

Because there, on her side, emblazoned in huge letters is one single word. “Fuck.” “It’s not that bad.” Wanda soothes as she studies the word. Thankfully, she showed up soon after receiving Y/N’s text for moral support. 

“Yes, it is! Today I wrote someone saying their lover’s eyes are as bright as the stars, and with them they feel whole. And do I get that? No, I get ‘Fuck!’”

“Maybe he’s saying ‘Fuck.’ but then he says ‘you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen’?”

“Or it could be ‘fuck’ because they stepped on my toes. Or maybe they dropped coffee on me? Or-” Y/N shakes her head, trying to shake herself out of her panic. Yet, it only intensifies. “And besides, it’s such a general word! What if I get confused and think someone else is my soulmate?”

“That isn’t going to happen. Personally, I think we have a strong, intense emotional bond with them, so we’ll just know it’s them when we see them.”

“You’re such a romantic, Wanda.”

“Says you.” She rolls her eyes. When Y/N freaks out a little again, Wanda shushes her with a gentle: “Calm down. You’re going to give me a headache at this rate. And besides, it could be worse! Mine is ‘Hello there’. What even is that?!” she groans, taking another sip from her drink.

“Oh please, yours is suave and sophisticated.” Y/N argues. “Maybe it’s a ‘Hello there.’” She mimes a smirk, looking Wanda up and down. “And then he says, ‘may I just say that you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen?’”

“Either that or they’re doing a horrendously bad Obi-Wan Kenobi impression.” Wanda counters, making her and Y/N dissolve into fits of giggles. “But seriously. You don’t know what causes him to say that. Nobody does. That’s the beauty of soulmates.” She grins reassuringly. “And besides, I’m sure it’ll be a funny story to tell your kids one day.” 

And for a while, her reassuring words worked, and Y/N's feelings about the word permanently inked onto her side improved slightly. But the longer time went on without meeting her soulmate, Y/N started to think they don’t exist at all. And what’s worse, she’d be stuck with this single word on her side for the rest of her life, an enduring reminder of her failure to find her true love.

A few months later,

Y/N walks down the street, preoccupied by her phone call. Her publisher has been ringing her almost every day this week, desperate to know when they can expect her next manuscript. The same manuscript that’s been sitting incomplete on her laptop for the last several months. Understandably, love hasn’t been high on the list of Y/N’s priorities ever since she realised what her soulmate’s first word to her was. 

When she catches sight of herself in a shop window, noticing the hem of her sweater has ridden up, exposing the k and most of the c of the word on her side, it makes her feel worse. Of course, she still hasn’t found her soulmate. Nothing like yet another reminder of how you’re failing in life. Quickly rolling down her sweater, covering the word that seems to be burned into her skin by this point, Y/N keeps walking. In a last-ditch attempt to find some productivity and get this fucking manuscript finished, she’s decided to visit her favourite coffee shop. That and she just really wants an iced coffee. 

“When…if I ever find my soulmate, I’m going to give them a piece of my mind.” She huffs, reaching out to grab the door handle to the coffee shop. Before she can open it, the door slams open, almost hitting her in the face. Luckily, Y/N manages to dodge the figure that almost crashes into her. This is the last fucking thing she needs right now. She rounds on the man, ready to give him a piece of her mind, to ask him, no, demand that he looks where he’s going next time, and be careful!

That’s what she wanted to say. What she should’ve said.

The beautiful pair of blue eyes she suddenly finds herself staring into stops her. As blue as the sky on a gorgeous summer's day, as blue as the ocean, inviting her into their depths. This man is gorgeous. His muscles bulge out through the blue shirt (the same colour as his eyes) he has opened over a vest top. His brunette hair is pulled into a man bun, a few loose tendrils sticking out. The man’s eyes widen as he takes her all in, realising how close he came to spilling his coffee all over her. 

And then he speaks.

“Fuck.” He murmurs, his voice just loud enough for her and only her to hear. Immediately, Y/N registers her heartbeat stop.

“What did you just say?” She gasps. Instead of repeating his words, the man’s eyes widen even more, almost bulging out of his head. He rolls down the sleeve of his shirt, displaying the slowly fading words printed on his shoulder. 

“What did you just say?”

“Does yours say ‘fuck’, by any chance?” The man chuckles, still clearly in shock, and wordlessly, Y/N nods, lifting her sweater to show him.

“Oh, my god.” They both speak at the same time. The man holds a hand out, which Y/N shakes. “I’m Bucky. It’s wonderful to finally meet you.” Nervously he rubs the back of his neck, and Y/N notices a burst of pink spreading across his cheeks. “Can I just say you look absolutely gorgeous?” He stammers a little. “Sorry, I’m not entirely sure what I’m supposed to say right now. It’s not everyday you meet your soulmate.”

“We have a strong, intense emotional bond with them, so we’ll just know it’s them when we see them.” Wanda’s words echo in her mind, and Y/N’s shock turns into a smile, all thoughts of giving her soulmate a piece of her mind gone as quickly as the word on her side. At first she brushed Wanda’s words aside, but she’s actually totally right. Being with Bucky, it finally feels right. Like the missing pieces she’s spent so long looking for are finally in place.

“I know.” Y/N nods. “But it’s completely understandable. To be honest, I’m still in shock too. I’m Y/N by the way.” 

"Y/N." Bucky smiles.“I am sorry for almost spilling my coffee over you.” He chuckles, and Y/N giggles. 

“Already forgotten about.”

“I, um, I need to head off, but how about we grab some dinner tonight?” Bucky grins. “We have a lifetime to catch up on.” 

“Sounds wonderful.” Y/N smiles.

It may not have been the most perfect meeting… at least, not compared to her romance novels, but Y/N doesn’t care. Because it turned out to be perfect for her.

Please follow @onceuponastory-library and turn on notifications to be notified when I next post!

[alexcollix7]

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.

[zoandreez]

i know, i read her diary ┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　° neteyam drabble

pairing: neteyam x metkayina!reader

summary: the tulkun have returned! after a quick journaling session you ran out to see your soul sister once again, not bothering to hide your journal. tuk stumbles upon it, and sees a certain someones name.

word count: 1.2k

warnings: fluff

a/n: first five paragraphs is a diary entry if you didn't catch that !!

"it had been about three and a half months since the suli family came to awa'altu for uturu, or 'a sanctuary for my family,' as toruk makto called it. excluding him and his mate, there were four of them.

"tuk, the youngest. she is a sweetheart, and she reminds me so much of tsireya when she was younger. i love catering to her like an older sister, making rock bracelets and waist beads with her, and helping her attach memories to her songcord, like her ilu's tooth, and the first shell she saw when she landed in awa'altu for the first time.

"lo'ak, the younger brother. he was a troublemaker, but had a kind soul. he is misunderstood, and i can see that. i wish ao'nung with stop picking on him, but he admits it's just an older brother instinct. he respects lo'ak, just finds his "freakish features" (earned a smack from tsireya) mockable.

"kiri, the older sister. i adore kiri, she adores me. she was an insanely quick learner, and was the first one of the four to master ilu riding. she loves the ocean as much as i do, and will go swimming with me when the ocean was cool at night to see the bioluminescence during eclipse. me, her, tsireya, and tuk made an unstoppable group.

"lastly, neteyam, the oldest brother. i like neteyam. not in the way i like the other three, no. i like.. neteyam. at least i think so. i like his beads at the ends of his braids, and that they shake every time he moves. i like his gentleman mannerism, and that he never overstepped or showed disrespect when me or tsireya was teaching him the way of water. he was pretty, even if he had a thin tail and long skinny limbs different to me. he showed me his banshee one day, and it was beautiful. just like him. i can talk to him about anything. except for this. he won't know about this. i don't think i'll ever tell him how i enjoy the spots on his face and how they frame his eyes, or the way his tail sways when he hears something funny, or that"

you stopped for a moment, shaking out your hand from consistent writing. and almost as if it was perfect timing, tsireya popped her head in the marui. "sister! the tulkun have returned!"

you perked your head at the comment, and immediately stood up. you hadn't seen your soul sister in forever. similar to your mother's soul sister, r'oa, your soul sister was also a composer of songs. you couldn't wait to hear what she had for you today.

you walked out the marui, yipping for your ilu. before you got on, you heard the familiar shout. "what's going on?" neteyam said to you. before you could answer, tsireya came from her circle of the island.

"the tulkuns have returned! our brothers and sisters are back!" she said, resulting in many yips and dives into the water. you gestured for neteyam to follow you, and smiled as you went under the water.

you dove and swam past many reuniting soul ties, before you laid eyes on your sister. you swam up to her, eagerly waving. "hello, my love!" you signed to your tulkun. "my sister. how have you been?"

"i've been great. i met a boy," you signed shyly.

"really? i have found a mate as well," your tulkun wailed, squinting as a sign of happiness.

you turned and saw neteyam, before bringing him over.

"this is neteyam," you signed, as he waved at your sister. "he doesn't know, though." you giggled.

"know what?" he signed back. you exchanged a glance with your tulkun before shrugging, and spinning with her. he watched you as you elegantly extended your body, aligning yourself with your soul sister's effortlessly. he smiled at your eagerness to be with her once again. you climbed on her back, and brought neteyam to her fin as she sped in the water. you enjoyed her fast swimming, and wanted him to experience that too.

eventually, eclipse neared. you closed your journal of your writing for the day, telling it all about how neteyam met your soul sister. you left for supper in the main pod, as tsireya told you about her soul sister's gossip.

walking to your marui after dinner, you noticed something was off. it took you a while, but it hit you.

your journal was missing.

you went straight to tsireya, who had no clue where it went. ao'nung? no clue you even had a journal. kiri hadn't seen it. neither had ronal. lo'ak was.. awfully quiet.

"lo'ak.."

"....tukhasit."

"WHAT?"

"i saw her reading something earlier when i came back from seeing payakan. while dad was cursing me out, she ran out to neteyam. so he probably has it."

your face flushed. the one person you wouldn't want to see it has probably saw it. and that was bad. calmly, you went to his room in the sully's marui. nearing it, you didn't want to be too direct, so you hid under it. treading water, you listened through the netted floors as he spoke.

"i don't know what she meant by 'he doesn't know.' i don't think she meant having a crush on me, although i wish she did." you froze. your heart was the only thing moving at this point, fluttering at his words. neteyam liked you?

"don't worry. she likes your skinny tail and fancy beads. i know, i read her diary." the familiar voice hit you. tuk? you froze as you listened. you would have been upset, but he felt the same way.

"you did?"

"mhm!" she cleared her throat before you heard pages rustling. you froze. she still has it? you had to compose your laughter as she tried her best impression of you.

"today, my soul sister met neteyam. we spoke all about how i liked him, but it was a close call. i saw him watching, so i brought him over. im not sure if he saw what i was saying about him, but he doesn't know much of the sign language anyways.

"she took the two of us for a ride. i loved hearing his laughs, and me and her exchanged a warm feeling. i think she likes neteyam too. hopefully not in the way i do. i'll elaborate later, after supper. i have got to hear what tsireya's soul sister said about lo'ak."

she slammed the book shut, and sighed. "there you have it!"

"wow.. she really likes me?" neteyam said, taking it in for a moment.

"in her words exactly, 'at least i think so.'"

"so we're reading diaries now?" you said, appearing from behind the wall. tuk shrieked, and you chased her along the beach playfully. you caught up to her and scooped her up. "you're lucky he likes me back, you'd be dead."

"do i like you?" neteyam said, popping up behind you. you dropped tuk from the sudden voice.

"shit. sorry, tuk! (i'm alright!)" you turned to neteyam. "i dont know, do you?"

"yeah, i do." he said, inching closer. your body heated up as he leaned to your ear to whisper something. "at least i think so." he grinned before turning away and leaving. you stood there for a moment, stunned.

"okay girl, go get some!" you heard tuk say, mouth stuffed with sand from when she was dropped.

"we have got to get you away from lo'ak and his slang."

a/n: this is something light, only because idk what my next part of my ao'nung series will be. i might just drop hcs and stuff like this for a while

[horseimagebarn]

Ok so thanks for the answer vis a vis the centaur situation I appreciate it a lot and I'm not trying to convince you to change your ruling but unfortunately you used the word taxonomy which triggered one of my damn neurodivergences. I hope you don't mind but my response will be to deposite these few paragraphs in your inbox I'm sorry in advance if this comes off as aggressive or condescending or just plain annoying I'm just sensing an opportunity to infodump to someone who might be interested in tbe topic so I'm seizing it I'm sure you know what it's like

Anyway there's a disconnect between pragmatism and scientific rigor that people are blind to which vexes me and biological taxonomy is a particular pet peeve of mine the biggest instance of it is crocodiles and alligators which are really the same damn animal for all intents and purposes but that's not relevant

Naturally when one thinks of horses one thinks of domestic horses specifically (Equus ferus cabellus) but I'd argue that certain pictures of donkeys (Equus africanus) look more like domestic horse pictures than certain pictures of Przewalski's horse (Equus ferus przewlaskii) despite the latter being classified as the same species and the former not

And I feel that for a horse image barn the resemblence of a picture to an archetypical horse image should be a higher priority criterion for inclusion than some criteria that biological taxonomy relies on like the presence of specific haplotypes which isn't even a word anyone knows and if you go to its Wikipedia article you get a definition of it that's not really relevant to this ask

So yeah in conclusion I wouldn't tie the in/ex-clusion of images to scientific taxonomy but to Vibes if I were the admin of this or a similar blog but I'm not and you are so you can like do whatever

Also I won't be submitting the centaur image I wanted to submit but can I still send it as an ask I like showing it to people spreading it around etc it's kind of cursed but also funny and I like it a lot and I understand why it's not horse enough to your taste but it's definitely horse adjacent and I want to share it

as a fellow animal wikipedia delver i agree that taxonomy is not the end all be all of the human perception of animals however what i meant to imply is that the differences between centaurs and horses are large enough to be considered taxonomical and are not debatable even in a taxonomical sense due to their many massive differences also i have posted przewalskis horses before as they are true horses and this is horseimagebarn not assimagebarn or centaurimagebarn even though i love donkeys just as much and would own a donkey over a horse any day

i did just take my adderall and am bored at work so i have to humbly yet lengthily disagree with you that taxonomy is not important in both cases presented while the crocodilian assumption you make has bruised my heart as i love alligators and i find them far cuter than crocodiles due to the differences in their jaw structure that makes their bottom teeth fit into their mouth instead of jutting out like crocodiles (which is one of the many actual and notable physical differences between them alongside choice of salt or fresh water etc) i wont get into that and will focus on horses since thats the point of this blog using actual punctuation and capitalization for the first time in this blogs history ill be referring to przewalskis horse as takhi as it is also known so i dont make a typo which i know i will

long ass (donkey pun) post warning

Taxonomy can of course be vague at times or muddied, but it is not an invalid study. All human knowledge is constantly evolving, and mistakes are inevitably going to be made, but that does not make our efforts invalid. It is beneficial for us to know how evolution works. Taxonomical differences are real and worth considering, even if mistakes are made sometimes. Two animals looking similar is not a valid reason to ignore their taxonomical differences, nor is it okay to ignore similarities because they look different—if we went by that logic, every dog breed would be a totally different species.

Speaking of, here's a little more on the whole appearance thing before we get into the science:

The other day, I was watching a video about the actual horses that existed in antiquity, and they are far more similar to takhi than you might think. I'll link the video if I can find it, apologies for a lack of a source on this right now, but the gist of it was that horses of yore were much shorter and stouter than modern horses. The tall, thin horse often seen in modern depictions of ancient time is inaccurate, as is the thick, muscular draft, which didn't become common until later on. Back then, people wanted horses that were sturdy—most people didn't care as much about specific breeds or having the hugest and prettiest horse on the block, especially when food to maintain larger animals like modern horses wasn't always guaranteed, and having such a huge animal could be dangerous and more difficult. Their horses were more similar to ponies than our big guys now, and ponies aren't a separate species. The selective breeding of horses to become taller and leaner made them appear way different from the takhi, but just like dogs, they remain extremely similar to those of their taxa despite looking different on the surface. For example, take a look at the ancient fjord horse breed next to the takhi...in fact, sometimes takhis are called Mongolian ponies! We can even see this in ancient art earlier in the horse's domestication:

Anyway, science:

Firstly, the takhi isn't wholly classified as the same exact species as the true horse, our domesticated Equus ferus caballus. Both Equus ferus callabus and Equus ferus przewalskii are considered subspecies of caballines, or true horses, meaning they're more like cousins (I know it's a cliche to say this, but I mean it), with donkeys and zebras as, like, their nephews twice removed. If the takhi was considered the exact same species as the domestic horse with no acknowledged differences, it would be considered a breed of horse, not a subspecies (though breeds are typically manmade, they are not always—see the word "typical" in the dictionary definition). This means that it does have recognized, distinct differences from the standard domesticated horse that have been taken into consideration in their taxonomy—it is not like the two are blindly considered the same exact thing.

Mistakes have been made in Equus taxonomy in the past, but continued research has led to a retaxing of the genus as early as the 1980s. In the 2012 review article "Discordances between morphological systematics and molecular taxonomy in the stem line of equids: A review of the case of taxonomy of genus Equus," by E. Kefena et al., a number of scholars reviewed the methods with which the Equus genus has been taxed in the past and how they have changed in the past few decades.

According to that article, equines are an incredibly plastic genus. They are very good at adapting to their environments, which led past taxonomists to overcount the amount of Equus species that existed in the past and therefore miscategorize the history of the genus in general. Many were actually just adapted versions of the same thing. This is what we see in the horse and takhi—they are similar but have adapted to their different environments and niches.

In 1986, two molecular scientists, George and Ryder, performed the first DNA-based molecular taxonomy on all living equus species, publishing their findings in the article "Mitochondrial DNA evolution in the genus Equus." By mapping equus DNA and constructing a phylogenetic tree, they were able to take a closer look at the actual genetic disparities between equus species.

George and Ryder found that "[In the mtDNA (mitochondrial DNA) cleavage map,] the percent sequence difference between E. przewalskii and E. caballus individuals was found to range between 0.27% and 0.41%. ... Overall, the amount of divergence presented here is small and not much greater than the 0.36% divergence reported for mtDNA differences found among the human racial groups (Brown 1980; Cann et al. 1984)."

So, horses and takhis are incredibly similar. Using these findings, they separated equus species into three clades: "One that groups the zebras, a second that groups E. africanus [African wild ass] and E. hemionus [Asiatic wild ass, aka the hemione], and a third that associates the true [caballine] horses E. przewalskii and E. caballus as a unit. However, as stated previously, the E. africanus-E. hemionus clade remains enigmatic."

They later state that "E. hemionus and E. africanus appeared more karyotypically [chromosomally] similar to each other than to other equids," hence why they were considered a clade despite being "enigmatic." Kefena et al. explain this weird enigma further, and, notably, compare it to the takhi: "Next to Przewalskii's horses, hemiones were the first species to be diverged from the stem line of extant equids, suggesting that they might be closely related to caballine horses than to asses, though they are monophyletic with donkeys than with horses. On the basis of these evidences, morphological resemblance between species doesn't guarantee genetic similarity between equid species." This means that asses and horses have distinct genetic differences that far outweigh those between takhi and domestic horses, despite the fact that donkeys and takhi look more similar. The hemione looks very similar to the African wild ass, and it is closer to it genetically, but it is not the same due to the way it evolved—it broke away from the general line earlier than any other ass. The takhi is the same; it diverted earlier than other horses, but remains very genetically similar—more than any other extant Equus species. And, even with the takhi's extra chromosomal pair, George and Ryder also found that they and horses were also very close karotypically, giving them incredible similarities both mtDNA-wise and chromosome-wise. Despite that different chromosome, horses and takhis can successfully interbreed and produce fertile offspring, unlike horses and donkeys.

Kefena et al. "MYBP" stands for "Millions of Years Before Present" Funnily enough, G&R also say, "There has been little to no dispute over the close relationship that exists between E. przewalskii and E. caballus; thus the addition of E. caballus to the E. przewalskii branch should be easily accepted." Which is so weirdly on the nose that I feel compelled to say that it's on page 544 so no one thinks I'm making it up. So, with their genetic similarities, their actually surprisingly similar appearances, and their sequential DNA similarities, the Przewalski's horse and the domesticated horse do belong in the same category when compared to other equines like donkeys and zebras. They're not identical, but they're in the same room of the larger equine house. And, check out the tarpan, Equus ferus ferus, another subspecies of Equus ferus and the most recently extinct of them all, alongside the current Equus ferus species (and a concept of the original Equus ferus pre-domestication by Cameron Clow on Artstation)! They're all friends:

Conclusion

you can send me centaurs if you want i just wont post them