#I am going to be so powerful once this book is finished for real. I'm gonna have so much more mental space.

[essektheylyss]

I have about 800 words left to write tonight but I am already at record daily stats for at least the past couple months and thank FUCK.

[yndrgrl]

yandere! bakugou uses you to get to someone else, but ends up falling for you instead

long ass fic. fem! reader. regular! au. enemies to lovers. lowkey crack! fic. tsundere! bakugou.

warnings: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, manipulation, somnaphilia (idk how to spell it), degrading, bullying, spitting, public sex, hatefuck

a/n: requests are open :) (plz request something, idk what else to write about 😭)

---

"no." that's all you said. so flat, so robotic. that's all you wanted to say.

bakugou was a pushy man, however. "it wasn't a question."

"oh for real?" you gasped, putting both hands to your cheeks to show your faux shock. "no."

"listen, you're gonna help me win over uraraka-"

"no, i'm not, bakugou," you denied once more. you don't even know why he came to you in the first place. it was clear as day that uraraka had a major crush on izuku, & izuku liked uraraka just as much.

honestly, what surprised you the most is that bakugou even had a crush. i guess it makes sense that it would be on uraraka though.

"yes, you are because i have something over you," bakugou threatened lowly.

you scoffed, "oh, do you now?" there wasn't really much he could have over you that would make you help him-

he slammed a journal on the desk, a slam echoing throughout the library. it was your personal diary.

you lunged for your journal, but he snatched it & threw it into his bag. you screamed at him, "how'd you get that, you sicko?!" the only way he would've gotten that was by breaking into your dorm room.

"are you going to help me or not?"

yes, you could've bought a nicer, leather journal with handcrafted pieces of paper, glued recent pictures of your life & decorated the pages with washi tape, stickers, & colored markers, but you didn't want to start over yet. your journal is a year & a half old, every page nearly filled; it's a deep dive into your mind. every overwhelming event in your life, every good memory, every goal you strive to achieve is written down in that book. bakugou katsuki had that all in his possession.

that's why, two days after you found out what he has, you're sitting with your usual study group in your designated, outdoor study area-- plus bakugou. your bluetooth speaker played a playlist shared throughout the group. you sat on the edge with uraraka beside you & bakugou across from you.

"y/n," someone said, catching your attention; it was uraraka. "i didn't know you & bakugou were friends."

you wanted to laugh. you quickly told her, "we're not-"

"we're good friends," katsuki overlapped with his lie. his scowl upturned into the smallest smile when uraraka glanced up at him.

"oh wow, i had no idea! the two of you are so hard-headed, i wouldn't have expected the two of you to get along so great," she said back with a giggle. you loved uraraka, but she's too friendly sometimes.

bakugou, trying to play into the cool-bad-boy character, said, "yeah, well she makes it hard sometimes, but it helps when she has cute friends, i guess."

never in your life did you think you would hear big, tough bakugou flirt in your life.

they continued their conversation that you tuned out, rereading your notes & constructing plans on how to get your journal so you could expose him. everyone was invested in their own stuff. obviously, bakugou & uraraka were talking amongst themselves. momo was explaining to jirou & mina some math topic that they were sobbing about. tsu was on her laptop as she tried finishing a power point that was due the next day.

your chin was propped up by your hand, humming the song that started playing. "um, excuse me," a masculine voice called out. it caught the attention everyone at the table. you heard bakugou scoff, & you could only assume he rolled his eyes.

you looked up at the source of the voice. he was right in front of you, face red, cheeky smile. he was cute in the way that a puppy eager for a treat was. "you're y/n, right?"

"yeah, i am," you confirmed, matching his grin.

he introduced himself by saying his name & told you that he was in the hero-support program. he then said, "i just wanted to say that you're just really pretty."

compliments were one thing. compliments from complete strangers always messed you up though. "oh, th-thanks." you're so awkward.

"so like, maybe i could get your number, & we could go on a date or two?"

you glanced back at all your friends, who all had big smiles as a way of non-verbally saying, "get your manz, bitch!!"

bakugou on the other hand, had an expression of confusion & anger-- the anger was permanent though.

"i mean, i don't give out my phone number, but maybe we can snap or something?"

the guy nodded with enthusiasm, pulling out his phone to give you his username. "cool, well sorry for wasting your guys' time," the boy said to you friends before turning to you & saying, "i'll hit you up later?"

"can't wait," you replied back.

as soon as he was out of earshot, mina squealed, "oh my god! you're such a flirt!"

jirou teased, "you're so awkward, it's literally so funny."

"you're my pretty best friend," tsu croaked with a laugh.

"guys, nothing is gonna happen," you said with a blush. "i'm just gonna be his friend."

"how does it feel to be hit on for the first time, loser?" bakugou yawned, as if he's been hit on ten million times by fan girls & milfs or something.

mina retaliated, "what are you talking about? y/n gets hit on all the time!"

uraraka jumped in, "yeah, what's was that? guy number five?"

"y/n?" bakugou questioned, & all your friends nodded. "that thing? doubt it."

"what's there to doubt? you just saw it," you growled at him, he annoyed you so badly.

after that study session, he got uraraka's number like he hoped for, but he was more curious about you. he never realized until that day how often you do actually get men's attention. bakugou always assumed you were some bookworm, writer nerd who leeched off of his darling, uraraka for popularity & personality.

"i don't get it," bakugou muttered, staring at your figure across the cafeteria. he was surrounded by his friends, who all followed his gaze.

kirishima groaned, "dude, just ask uraraka out already." it was routine that bakugou would say something about how shitty nerd, deku, isn't good enough for her affections or how he would be a better match for her.

"no, it's not that," bakugou corrected, glare not breaking off of you. this caught kirishima, denki, sero, & mina -who sometimes sat with you as well- off guard.

"what are you talking about, bro," denki asked.

"i don't get it. she's not even that cute," bakugou scoffed, slouching back into the bench. his eyes finally tore away from you & awase from class 1-b.

"who?"

"y/n, i think," mina assumed, & when bakugou didn't deny it, they all knew she was right. "why does it even bother you?"

"it doesn't," he said, glancing back at you. awase left you, & in his place was the floating, fighting machine uraraka. he didn't feel the need to say anything about her though, but he felt like he had to. "she's weird, uraraka shouldn't even be friends with her."

"there it is," sero sighed, making all the others laugh.

"shut up," bakugou scowled at them. everyone was used to it, so they weren't that threatened.

"but seriously, bakubro, don't hate on y/n just cuz she's best friends with uraraka, & you're jealous," kirishima told him. he always did this to the blonde. he wasn't scared to tell him off.

bakugou, infuriated, yelled, "i'm not jealous of her, okay? it's just stupid how she has everyone wrapped around her finger, so don't be some dumb, y/n defenders. hop off her fuckin' dick."

"i'm just saying, man. she's super cool, has a useful quirk, & is an awesome fighter," kirishima said, holding his hands as a way to show he was backing down.

"if i were you, bakugou, i would be trying to be her friend," mina said.

mina's words played on repeat in bakugou's head for a week. it was driving him crazy. even though that bridge of being friends was already burned & he kept telling himself he doesn't care, he can't help but want to be closer to you.

he said it was all for uraraka in the end. after all, when they were texting the other day, she said that she would want a future partner to get along with her friends or else it'll be a deal breaker.

bakugou deduced that if he was on favorable terms with you that uraraka would fall for him-- & maybe you too. he felt himself physically jolt when he thought that. why in fucks name would he want you to fall for him? he thought for a second. it's not like he wants to be with you or anything, but he doesn't want you with anyone else.

he somehow found himself in front of your dorm door past curfew. bakugou, at this time, was usually asleep, dreaming about a life where him & uraraka lived happily ever after. however, tonight was different. he didn't feel like thinking about the short-haired brunette.

he doesn't even know why he's outside your door.

in his head, he rationalized that he just loves uraraka so much that he'd give up sleep to become your friend. it was such an urgent situation that he didn't even bother putting on shirt.

he fished in his sweatpants' pocket for a lock pick, the same one he used to break into your dorm the first time to steal your journal. bakugou jammed it into the lock, opening the door with ease. he shut the door carefully before stalking further into your room.

there you were on your bed. swaddled in your fluffy duvet, cuddling a stuffed animal. you must've felt his presence because your sleeping self started shifting & ended up kicking off your blanket. you ended up on your stomach, one leg crunched towards your side while the bottom leg laid straight. you faced away from bakugou.

his breath hitched, something inside him twitched. bakugou couldn't help but stare. he had to admit that you had the body of his dream girl. wait no, his dream girl was uraraka-

he cut his own thoughts off when he saw how your ass looked in that position. the blue hue from the moonlight flowed into the room because, for some reason, you felt no need to close your curtains. he could make the shape of you so clearly. he reached for you.

he told himself that he wouldn't be cheating on his soon-to-be lover. it's just a touch, a friendly touch that friends share with each other.

his fingertips ghosted over your exposed thighs. you were wearing nothing but thong & an oversized band tee. the gentle touches turned into full-palm caresses. her skin is so smooth, bakugou thought. he loomed closer to you, inhaling deeply. she smells so nice.

he climbed over you with the agility of a shadow. the bed didn't even creak. he kneeled over legs, & his hands found your plush ass. he kneaded your bare butt, shifting you so you were fully on your stomach. you remained unmoving; you usually take melatonin gummies right before bed anyways.

bakugou kept groping your ass while his cock hardened into its full length. his hands wandered, thumbs grazing over your entrance. he grasped you, & he spread your ass cheeks apart. you must be dreaming about something dirty because your thong was soaked.

bakugou readjusted himself so he was on level with your ass. "this is just what friends do," he hazily whispered to himself. "friends help friends get better."

he blew on the wet patch, watching your pussy twitch through your panties. bakugou waited for a second, trying to grasp at any sort of self-control but, when you subconsciously propped your ass higher for him, he couldn't help it. he mentally apologized to uraraka before he dove into your ass.

his tongue licked your clothed slit, & he felt how thin your thong truly was. he only got an inkling of what you tasted like, & he craved more. bakugou lapped you juices through your panties, dampening the light grey cloth into a darker shade. his jaw hinged open to allow his tongue to delve further down.

he found your clit through your thong. he pressed his tongue against you, & sleeping, unsuspecting you let out a moan. "oh fuck," bakugou whispered in response, diving back into your pussy.

he pulled your thong up. it rode higher in your ass, then the part the was covering your pussy disappeared between your lips.

he started eating you out again, groaning in pleasure when he finally got to touch your bare skin. he slurped your juices over & over.

bakugou didn't realize that he pulled his sweatpants & boxers down to his knees. he pulled away from your pussy, a string of your juices & his saliva connecting him to you.

on his knees, he positioned his big cock between your ass. a moment of clarity hit him, it wasn't right, he knew that deep down. you really didn't do anything to him.

your phone next to your pillow buzzed. he grabbed it, his hung cock still pressed against you. it was a message from uraraka that read, "wait what did you wanna tell me about bakugou earlier? you looked so concerned haha."

you were trying to tell him? what a fucking bitch, bakugou thought with pure hatred. you were trying to sabotage him with your words, your pretty little mouth, with your dumb, stupid body.

his rationality was once again thrown out of the door. uraraka would want me to show y/n her place, he thought. he climbed off of you. he had to show you what your mouth was meant for. your mouth wasn't meant for snitching, it was meant for sucking cock-- his cock.

bakugou turned your head & pulled it at the edge of the bed. thankfully, it's like your body already knew what was gonna happen, your mouth was already agape. he pushed his tip past your lips. your tongue lazily stroked against his length. he moved his dick in & out of your throat, & yet somehow you still remained motionless.

his control turned into animalistic thrusts, gagging you over & over, & you still stayed asleep. "fuckin' stupid bitch," he groaned, throwing his head back. your throat expanded with each thrust to accommodate his thickness & length.

spit & his precum spilled out of your mouth & onto your silk pillowcase. because you were sideways, his heavy balls slapped against your face, nose shoved into his pubes. you gargled & gagged in your sleep, but you still handled him so well.

his passionate angry finally swelled up & shot down your throat. even though he was cumming, he kept half-assed thrusting in your throat, coating every inch with white. all for uraraka, remember? because bakugou completely forgot what drove him to do what he just did.

the next day, as you entered the classroom, he heard you tell to uraraka about how the melatonin gummies really worked. "yeah, i was completely knocked out! i drooled so much, my pillow was drenched. it was disgusting."

"really? i know that they're good, but i never drooled that much. maybe you really needed that sleep."

as they passed bakugou's seat, uraraka waved at him with pink cheeks. "hey, bakugou."

"uraraka," he said back to her. he watched your smile drop into a frown, your eyes rolling. he was winning over uraraka, he knew that, but he didn't feel satisfied. he yearned the banter between the two of you more than uraraka's affections. "what was that, idiot?"

uraraka was shocked at first, thinking he was talking to her until she heard you shoot back, "shouldn't you be watching ochaco instead of me?" if he didn't know any better, it sounded like you were jealous.

"y/n, let's calm down," uraraka sheepishly suggested, but it only angered you more. why was she on that weirdo's side? why wasn't she on your side? even after you told her what he did to you, she didn't even care; in fact, she seemed flattered.

"yeah, calm down," bakugou chimed in with that disgusting, cocky smile, "go in the back & drool all over your desk."

"eavesdropping now? you really are obsessed," you huffed, marching towards your desk that was, in fact, in the back of the classroom. you thought uraraka was right behind you, but by the time you turned around to sit in your chair, you noticed her take a seat next to bakugou.

the bell rang, & in rolled your sleepy teacher, mr. aizawa. he called roll, held an hour long lecture while you took notes, then assigned a 4-page essay with three sites sources. after he was done, he questioned, "now that we're done with that, what is happening today?"

iida's hand shot up along with his entire body.

"go ahead, iida."

"the 1a students from ketsubutsu academy are training with us today." oh right, you completely forgot about that. you were not in the mood to socialize with those uptight, cocky rich kids today. even though you took the melatonin gummies the night before to ensure a goods night sleep, you got everything but that. you felt like you were melting all night, & now you just felt restless.

"good, iida is correct," mr. aizawa confirmed. "they're already waiting in training facility a, so get dressed & be there in 10 minutes."

"yes sir!" & they all scurried out of the classroom.

your entire class entered the facility in their hero costumes. like mr. aizawa said, the visiting students were already there, stretching & warming up. mr. aizawa, once he noticed his entire class, announced that on the white board was everyone's names & assigned training group for the day.

everyone, including the other class, crowded around the board to find their names. "y/n!" your best friend, who you were extremely pissed off at, cheered. "we're all in the same group!" we... all?

you look at uraraka to see who she was referring to. "it's just my luck," you groaned, of course it was bakugou. "i just had to be put in a group with you!" you wanted to shout at everyone. you wanted to shout at uraraka for being swooned by a creep, you wanted to yell at mr. aizawa for putting you in a group with bakugou, & you wanted to scream, jump, yell, & hit bakugou over the head with a bat just for being the aggravating, prideful bastard he is.

"we just had to have a weak fuckin' nerd in your group?" he said to uraraka, but glanced to his side to meet your eye. your fuming expression really got him going. "there's no one more annoying than you-"

"are you y/n?" someone questioned. that just be the last person in your group.

you looked up at him, & with a half-hearted smile, you said, "i am."

"nice, i'm in your group," he told you, "i'm yo shindo. & i must admit, i was not excited for this whole group training thing until i saw a pretty girl like you was in my group."

oh, so he was a flirt? honestly, you didn't mind at all; you needed something to distract you & what's a better distraction than a buff playboy?

"honestly me too, but i think it'll be fun with you," you said back, but you overthought what you said. was it cringy?

bakugou was watching the whole exchange, brows furrowed, vein popping through his skin on his forehead. uraraka noticed, & because with the new-found knowledge that bakugou really liked her, she stroked his arm & asked, "are you okay?"

he looked at her with the same look of anger, now mixed with discomfort, & shrugged her off. "yeah, i'm fine."

he turned his attention back to you & shindo. bakugou's hands sparked ever so suddenly when he took in the scene in front of him. you were eating up all of shindo's praises & brags. your hands tried to squeeze around his biceps but you just couldn't connect your hands. "wow, your muscles are so big~ you must be strong."

"of course i am, i gotta be so i can impress pretty girls like you after all," he winked at you. for a moment, you glanced at bakugou, feeling his harsh glare, & he looked like he was about to explode. you didn't know why though, doesn't he have what he wanted already? he has uraraka right there, & yet he's still mad at you. he still owes you your journal too, so the two of you were not on good terms.

"sorry, i didn't mean to get carried away," you told shindo, pulling your hands away.

as the two of you walked towards uraraka & bakugou, shindo said, "i don't mind, you can touch me wherever, whenever."

you couldn't help but laugh out loud. "god, you're such a flirt!"

"you seem to love it though-"

"y/n, would you stop being a hoe for one second & train like you're supposed to?" bakugou said to you, hands stuffed inside his pockets, looking so nonchalant. you blinked a moment, & you waited for uraraka to say something or to rush by your side. she didn't do any of that

all she said was, with a giggle & eyes staring at bakugou, "that was mean." yeah, it was. it really was. the tips of your ears burned in humiliation, your palms became sweaty, & your breathing was uneven. after uraraka was done ogling bakugou, she looked at you, & her eyes widened. never in her entire childhood friendship did she see that expression on your face.

"dude, i don't know who think you are, but don't talk to her like that," shindo said, stepping forward & slightly in front of you. your tense shoulders relaxed just a bit-- someone is in your corner.

the amused bakugou turned pissed off when your new, little boy-toy went to your rescue, even though he knew you didn't need rescuing. "h-hey, let's save it for training, yeah-"

"i'll talk to y/n however i want, damn weak fuck," bakugou replied, copying his movements & stepping forward. "you're just like her: fucks anything that moves, huh?"

"bakugou-"

"that's it!" you shouted as you shoved bakugou away from shindo. the three of them -bakugou, uraraka, & shindo- were shocked to say the least. he pushed you too far all for entertainment & some obsession. "you're such a goddamn coward, you know that? all you are is a bully who's play-pretending to be a hero! you're such a control freak that, even after you stole my best friend, you still need to have something over me, so you won't give me back my stupid journal. & worst of all, you just stare & glare & act like i'm scum when you're the actual piece of shit! & you're not even ashamed! you want everyone to know! i hate you so much!"

after your tangent/rant, you walked away, quirk firing left & right. you didn't need to hear whatever bakugou was going to say next, it was probably be something so degrading that winds up in her next journal entry.

the three of the gawked at you, watching you walk straight to the state-of-the-art punching bags. uraraka was the first to speak. "i'll talk to her. i've never seen her that... mad. it was like she was a whole new person-"

"you guys are terrible classmates. there was no reason to say any of that. i'll go talk with her," shindo cut uraraka off. before either of them could do anything, bakugou was already strutting towards you, gauntlets sparking.

"who does she think she is?" they heard him utter. they were out of earshot, however, when he said, "making me fuckin' hard then walking away. damn tease."

he caught up to you in no time. you were almost to the punching bags when he grabbed your wrist, his hand was warm & a stinging sensation engulfed your wrist.

uraraka & shindo watched as the two of you screamed at each other, you shoving him, him glaring at you, you throwing a piece of your costume at him. honestly, it would've been comedic if it wasn't for bakugou pressing your buttons.

"what are they? toxic exes or something?" shindo questioned as they began to walk towards the fighting two.

"oh, no, not at all! i would've known," uraraka told him, "they're just... um... friends i think. maybe enemies."

"i can tell that much."

when the actual training began, you & bakugou tried to separate from each other. you were paired with shindo & him with uraraka. but, because of the conditioning & the way today's training was set up, it was inevitable that you two would interact again.

like at lunch, the two of you sat across each other at a table, eating your lunches. you didn't bother speaking, you didn't even want to see bakugou ever again, after all.

or at the water fountain, when he said, "hurry up." & so you took longer, even though you weren't thirsty anymore.

or when you had to rotate partners & bakugou was your only option. the two of you, against the rules, threw quirk-backed attacks each other.

& that's how you two ended up being excused early. while everyone else was getting better, you were locked out & forced to change back into your school uniform, & the only person with you was bakugou.

when you left the changing room, he was leaning against the wall-- almost like he was waiting for you. "you done being mad at me?"

"no, i'm not, & i'll never stop being mad at you," you said, walking right past him. he followed close behind you.

"listen, i didn't mean to embarrass you. i didn't know you'd get so pissy."

"what did you think was gonna happen?!"

"i don't know, okay?" the two of you were yelling at this point.

"you have ochaco, can you please just give me my journal & leave me alone? you two can be happy far, far away from me," you said, cursing yourself for choking up. you mentally prepared for the teasing & "witty" comebacks bakugou had in store.

instead, he asks, "are you jealous?"

"what?"

"are you jealous?"

you scoffed, opening the door to the dorm building. "don't flatter yourself, big guy."

"i'm being serious," he said to you as he leaned on the counter. you were so hungry that you didn't really care bakugou was watching you cook. "because i was."

"what are you getting at, bakugou?" you asked, putting a pot of water on the stove, bringing it to a boil.

"i was so jealous today," he said.

"of what?"

"of damn shindo kid," he responded back. your angered expression contorted into a puzzled one as you looked up at him. when you didn't reply, he continued, "if i knew stupid one liners got your attention, i would've been doing that sooner."

you couldn't believe what you were hearing. the guy who's been making the past few months hell was confessing something you never expected. "what about ochaco, hm? i thought you needed her to breath or something."

"yeah, i guess i liked her at first, & that's why i needed your help," he admitted. he then fished a journal, your journal, out of his bag & stood up. he walked towards you, hand outstretched with your beloved diary in his grasp. you reached out for it when he lifted it above your head with a taunting smirk. "but then i realized that i wanted you this entire time."

--nsfw starts here--

"you're just saying stupid things to get a rise out of me, bakugou," you rolled your eyes at him. you placed a hand on his chest as you jumped for your journal, fingers touching it ever so lightly. it was just out of reach.

you thought you had it, he brought the notebook down. however, you didn't have it. he threw it on the counter behind you, & the hand the was holding it snakes around your waist. his other hand grabbed your face, stroking your cheek as he kissed you.

you don't know why, but you found your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. without breaking your lips apart, he pushed you against the counter, pinning you between his two arms now. his tongue, the tongue that craved you since that unknown night, licked your lips before fighting yours for dominance. his thigh was between your legs. he pressed your core against him, & you moaned.

bakugou shut off the burner during your kiss. he was expecting the two of you to escape into his room, but when you threw off his tie & unbuttoned his shirt eagerly, he knew he needed you right then & there.

the two of you broke your kiss, & he placed his head in the crook of your neck. "you get off on making me jealous, don't you? that's why you were flirting with stupid shindo?"

"wh-whatever, you jerk. you act like you weren't basically grinding on ochaco in front of me all the time?"

bakugou laughed into the nape of your neck. "grinding? all we did was talk."

"same fuckin' thing," you growled in frustration.

"i didn't know you were so jealous of her."

"oh, fuck off, asshole," you said. you were quickly shut up by him biting your sensitive spots all over your neck, sucking & licking to create hickeys.

he took off your tie & ripped open your shirt. he unhooked your bra, throwing it god knows where. "take this fuckin' thing off," he uttered, helping you out of your torn clothes.

"h-hey!"

"shut up, & take it. i'll buy you a new one," he said before fondling your breasts. you bit your lip as your grinded against his meaty thigh. your wetness, even though you had panties on, began staining his slacks.

"bakugou~" you whispered, voice shaking.

"it's katsuki tonight, dummy," he told you, turning you around & bending you over the counter. you brushed your journal out of the way as you pressed you tits onto the cold, granite countertop.

with three fingers, he pinched your pussy through your panties so his middle one snuck in between your lips. "stop being a tease & fuck me already." if only you knew.

"be patient, woman," scowled katsuki, smacking your ass. he set of small sparks when he hit your cheek. "you can't take this cock yet. i'm doing you a goddamn favor."

you doubted him, you really did. he was so cocky & arrogant, how could you not? "i can take your tiny dick any day, don't underestimate me."

katsuki let out a hearty, sarcastic laugh. "you really think so, dumb bitch?" he unclicked his belt, dropping his pants & boxers around his ankles. he started to grind against your ass, & you swore up & down it felt like deja vu.

you gasped as you felt his length between your ass. you've had dreams about cocks that big, sure, but you didn't know they actually existed. "wh-what the fuck?"

"what? still think you take me? still think i'm tiny, sweetheart?" katsuki taunted as he took off your panties. he pressed your thighs around his cock, the base of it stimulating your swollen clit. he thrusted gently; it was so against his brash, aggressive character.

you were not one to back down, so at least you stayed true to your character. "yeah, i can take your skinny ass dick-" you were cut off by katsuki spreading your ass & shoving his girthy length into your throbbing heat. you screamed, tongue hanging out of your mouth as you tried to adjust to him.

he wouldn't let you though. katsuki, once inside your tight pussy, started pounding you. he shoved his cock head into your g-spot over & over, making you quiver & pulsate around him. "sl-sl-slow d-down!" you begged between thrusts. in response, he pulled your head back with your hair. you arched uncomfortably; your pelvis was still against the edge of the counter, but your head was pulled so far back that you could see katsuki's face.

"you think you're all that? you think you can just flirt with all these other guys in front of me? you fuckin' slut," he spat into your mouth, not that it mattered since it mixed with your drool & fell out of your mouth & onto your cold body. "i own you now. i own this mouth, i own this pussy, i own this ass, i own you."

"f-f-"

"c'mon, pathetic whore. say it."

"fuck y-you, katsuki." oh, you were a brat through & through clearly.

katsuki has had enough of your retaliation. you were supposed to be a brainless bimbo begging for more, yet here you were, surprising him again. any bit of consciousness you had, he was going to fuck out if you.

he, without pulling out, let go of your hair & made you stand up. he grabbed both your legs & hoisted you into this air. his hands found their way behind your head, & you couldn't move. you were nothing more than a cum dumpster to him now. "you know, if anyone walks through that door, they're gonna see you folded in half, tears streaming down your face with my cock balls deep in your dripping pussy, & they'd realize how much of a slut you are, & they'd know that you're all mine."

you didn't mean to, but your pussy clenched around his cock tighter as more of your juices squirted onto the linoleum floor. "oh, you like that, princess?"

you moaned in response, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he praised you. "aw, how pathetic. you must love when i call you cute nicknames & tell you how good you're doing." with whatever head movement you had, you nodded.

"that's a shame because you've been nothing but dirty, i can't treat you like a good girl until you deserve it."

"p-please! i'll do anything!" you cried out, then you started twitch uncontrollably around him. a white, hot wave of pleasure washed over you as you creamed all over his cock. he wasn't done yet, he still abused your cervix, making you beg for him to stop, or at least slow down.

his thrusts turned rapid as he started to groan about how you were all his, how he wasn't going to let any other man look at you, how he would be the only one you ever think about. you knew that was all true. "y/n, you fuckin' bitch, i hate you & your pretty, little face. take it all," he yelled as he unloaded his load into your tight pussy.

you screamed in overwhelming pleasure, squirting all over him once again. the two of you caught your breaths. he set you down once his cock finally stopped twitched, & he spun you around to embrace you. "i'm so sorry, y/n. i promise i'll be the best boyfriend in the world, just give me a chance. i know we're enemies or whatever, but i don't wanna be that anymore, & i don't want to be whatever this is; just fucking like we hate each other then go our separate ways." you've never seen this side of katsuki before.

"i-i'd like that, i'd like to be your girlfriend."

you hated him. you hated how he made you feel. you hated how he infected your mind, how he ruined you for any other man. you hated how you knew you needed him.

[tootoomanycats]

The Plan

Chapter One: Best Laid Plans...

Pairing:

Gil-Galad x Human Reader Fem

Word Count: 6,415 words

If you prefer to read on AO3 its HERE

Summary: (SET IN THE RINGS OF POWER TV SERIES) (Takes place years before the first episode) As time settles the world’s chaos, Gil-Galad begins to feel an unusual boredom. After centuries of war, his days are now filled with mundane paperwork, the ink on the parchment mocking him with its monotony. When he receives a letter from Master Boat Builder Cirdan, asking for aid for a small group of humans whose ship has sunk, Gil-Galad agrees, recognizing his duty to help. Upon meeting the High King, you are caught off guard by an unexpected attraction. With your ship at the bottom of the bay, you aim to use your charm to secure a new vessel for yourself and your crew. However, as days go by, Gil-Galad's genuine compassion and kindness complicate things. The initial plan to flirt and deceive begins to clash with the genuine emotions that develop. You find yourself torn between the charming facade and emerging feelings for the High King. As the truth looms closer, the question remains—how will Gil-Galad react when he learns the real reason behind your visit?

Warnings:

Mentions of fire

Descriptions of injuries

Descriptions of partial nudity

Reader is not a holy good person.

Two ideots pining and refusing to acknowledge it.

Not Beta Read

(smut stuff will be in chapter two, promise)

Author Notes:

Hello Everyone!

It’s finally here! Thank you for being so patient while I finally got this done and posted. In my overeagerness, I was hoping to get this finished on New Year’s Day, but sadly, life and depression got a hold of me. I have entirely rewritten this chapter and how it plays out over four times. This time, I finally had to reel my worry that this wasn't good enough and just be okay with where it was. Please note that I'm writing this without sitting to very strict guidelines of what elves are commonly like in the book. I am writing Gil-Galad and Elves with the idea that history books and lore always paint figureheads and royalty as if they lived by strict morals and values. And I think it's much more interesting if we see what Gil-Galad would have experienced if he had fallen in love, and it, in the end, was kept secret from history. You'll notice that Elrond isn't going to be in this; that is because at the same time this story is going on- I have a one-shot of what Elrond is doing elsewhere. I am working on it, but I have no set date for finishing it as of right now. As always if you like what you have read please remember that fanfic writers live off of likes, comments and reblogs- we wont admit it but we all have praise kinks. Have you fed your starving artist today?

Tea.

Every night since his arrival in Grey Havens, the Master Boat Builder has made a point to enjoy a cup of tea before heading off to bed. Be it rain, snow, or shine, that cup of tea will always be had.

The weather was sublime this evening: cool temperatures, clear skies, and a calm breeze. Weather being what it is, he opened the workshop’s doors to watch as the sun’s last glow gave way to darkness.

Once the last sip was finished, he reached for the large doors to close them for the night. But as he pulled the last one, a shimmer of light in the water caught his attention; its reflection was unusually bright.

Leaning out the side, hand gripping the door handle for balance, he gasped in shock at finding the source. Just a few leagues away was a double-masted ship- inflamed.

Its bow was raised dramatically into the cool night air, exposing an accumulation of maritime fauna. The vessels aft dragged along the sea bed, echoing whenever it hit high points of rocks. What wood was visible was already ashes or becoming the next fuel source for the inferno. Screams and bodies jumping into the river could be heard above all else.

Running out of the boat house, Cirdan reached the town’s warning bell. Its massive size was stuck from disuse and rust. He kicked hard and kept kicking until his ankle and foot burned in protest, until finally, it groaned in movement. The piercing sound of the tocsin woke and alerted those who lived nearby as he shouted, “FIRE!”

It became chaos as orders were given, supplies packed, and horses mounted. The few elves who could, followed the older one, sprinting to offer aid to the tragedy’s survivors.

——

Wet, freezing, and homeless.

The strength it had taken to carry your first mate from the ship’s bowls to the deck had caused more than one muscle to pull. Short as he is, the man is surprisingly heavy.

Unfortunately, jumping from a burning ship was more manageable than carrying him to shore. As the line of buoyancy and gravity met, a new struggle began as you started to stand halfway out of the water.

Heavy, wet clothes worked against frozen, numb limbs with each soaking step to dry land and out of its icy grip. Ankles almost twisting with each slippery step on the shore rocks before finally collapsing onto soft sand.

A small blessing was the man you had carried came too with only a few short chest compressions. You joined him on the sand once he could fully sit up and catch his breath.

What was left of the crew watched as the top of the crow’s nest disappeared, the bay groaning and gurgling in its consumption. The ship you and many others once called home had been swallowed into the water’s depths.

A hand gently pressed into your left shoulder, its callouses felt through the singed holes of your shirt—the contact causing you to look at the much shorter man. “I’m sorry, Captain. You did your best.”

The words meant well, but instead of commiserating, they reminded you that this was your failure. When the sensation of your throat tightening and eyes misting began, you shook your head. There would be no grieving until a new home was acquired.

Looking back at the shorter man, face composed and emotions pushed to the side. “Do we know where we’ve landed, Sal? I didn’t have time to look at the map; when I saw the opening, I thought it would be the only chance for our escape.”

Sal’s singular green eye widened before looking around the visible area, knowing he would be the only one of you to see in such darkness. “Not sure, we’ve never been this far north before.”

Not good.

Standing up, you internally shivered as the sensation of wet, sandy, cloth peeled from your damp, chilled skin. The only possessions left were on everyone’s backs, holes and all.

A strike of panic set in at that realization. Taking inventory, a hand reached up to count the baubles that adorned your earnings, relieved to feel all was accounted for. Looking down at the blistered and burned fingers, you grimaced at the thought of how bad the pain would be when removing the various roughly smithed rings. One of the bands looked almost embedded past the first few layers of skin, potentially touching bone.

Sal had followed in checking his personage for anything of value, even lifting his eye patch and ensuring that the smooth, unpolished diamond he kept was still hidden in the empty socket.

“We’re going to be stuck on land until a new home can be procured.” Turning, you saw the group huddled together for warmth, teeth chattering as they shivered.

“From here on out, it’s dry land rules and roles. We’re starting from nothing, so best behaviors until that changes.” At the nods given in response, you turned to your first mate. “We need to start a fire; we don’t need anyone dying of hypothermia-“ Everyone froze at a distinct sound.

Hoof-beats.

The sound rumbled further up into the tree line, accompanied by voices that called out, echoing into the fjord. Lanterns swayed and grew brighter with each moment the owners grew closer.

Head snapping back to the others, you whispered, “Remember the rules. No one speaks until I say so.” A groan caught your attention just before Sal almost lost his balance. “What's wrong? Why-“ Pulling your hand away from the back of his head, you felt the warmth just as you smelt its metallic scent.

Your hand was entirely coated in bright red blood from just that moment of contact; a quick glance back at the sand where he had first laid showed a small puddle where the ground's compression had helped to pause the bleeding, only momentarily. “Why didn't you say anything?” you hissed before trying to apply what little pressure your pain-filled hand could tolerate. A gruff whisper was his only response: “Didn't want to worry you.”

“Idiot” was the only word that could be mustered while ideas sprinted in your mind at what to do next. The lanterns were getting closer, the voices becoming more evident each second. It was a gamble, but it was the only possible choice you could see.

“Someone, help us!” Shouting into the night air, voice raising louder with the following sentence. “Pirates have attacked us!” At first, the crew members' confusion read clearly on their faces, until your stern glare made them realize what was happening. One by one, they began clutching various parts of their bodies, crying out and groaning in pain.

Sal chuckled in your arms, shaking his head before he lost consciousness, his full weight now on you to hold up. Once the owners of the lanterns broke through the bushes, they rushed in to help. But it was clear that there was surprise on both parties’ sides when seeing who the other was.

Elves? Just how far north had you drifted?

Cirdan was genuinely shocked at what he and his townspeople stumbled upon. When first spotting the burning ship, the assumption was that the sailors aboard would be his own kind—not humans. As the others rushed to those rolling in agony on the sand, he quickly made his way to where you were struggling to maintain balance while holding a relatively short man.

Finally, you allowed the tears to flow, teeth chattering as the adrenalin began to wear off and what little warmth you had dissipated. “Please, help us.” The older elf’s heart broke at the sight before him, and within the hour, you and your crew had been taken back to town to be tended to.

By midnight, Sal’s head had been stitched and bandaged. Once asleep, the shorter man's snoring rattled the walls of the boat builders' small home. The other members' wounds had been cleaned before special herbs that none of you recognized were placed over them. With no spare rooms, Cirdan was left to care for the ship’s captain on his dining table.

The first rinse to clean the wounds on your palms had not been too painful. But as the elf used various instruments to take out the bits of splintered wood, broken threads of rope, and shattered glass, you began to think that he was torturing you instead of healing.

At another flinch, Cirdan’s focus shifted to take in your exhausted face. The grimacing expression telling how much you were ready to be done with the tedious task before you both. “Almost done. I am pleased to say you will still have full use of your hands.” He whispered.

As everyone else slept, only a few candles lit the small area needed to see as he worked. In search of distraction from the sensitive and tender discomfort, attention shifted to the papers scattered around the table he had you perched on. The first few were just lists and notes, but something caught your eye.

It was beautiful.

Triple-masted, square-cut sales, the hull was designed in such detail that it felt like, with one good shake, it would drop out of the page into the water.

As you became further engrossed with the drawing, you unknowingly leaned further and further. Cirdan looked up, ready to ask you to sit still again. But when he followed where your attention had gone, he smiled softly before gently guiding your palms back into the position needed. Focusing back on digging out a particularly stubborn glass shard, he egged on your curiosity. “If you enjoy that one, you should see the one you are sitting on.”

When a deep blush of embarrassment spread across your face, he chuckled. “Here, let me help.” With the boat master’s aid to lean to the opposite side now, he pulled free the design to lay the now crinkled paper on the table for easier viewing.

Just like the previous design, this, too, was stunning. Were such ships possible to build? Once back to work on your hands, you took the opportunity to shift your attention from the design to begin admiring the unique features of the elf's home.

Intricate hand-carved details were everywhere. Spiraled door handles, doorway arches with such delicate flowers and vines it was a wonder they didn’t break, and the wall next to the dining table was carved from ceiling to floor, detailing a flock of cranes surrounded by tall standing trees.

“Did you design them?” Attention back to the page that had previously been sat on. An idea began to form in your mind at his nod and smile. “They’re beautiful; building something as grand as those must take a lifetime.”

“They are, though I am not sure if they will ever be brought into existence.” The tone of his voice tells of the pride in his creations and the enjoyment of such praise.

Allowing your voice to soften, your head tilting, and your lips turning up at the corners as you spoke, “They’re unique. It's so clear in everything you touch that this is what you were meant to do.”

As you continued, the tips of pointed ears peeking out from silver hair tinged in a faint blush. “Every detail thought through so clearly,” Cirdan gulped as he nervously tried to focus on the task before him.

But the poor boat builder struggled even more when you teasingly smiled while praising his work. “Even your door handles and chairs adorn your touches.” Your eyes locked for a moment, just long enough to see the faint tinge of a flustered blush topping the apples of his cheeks. A single fluter of your lashes and you glanced at his lips for a moment before returning to the pages laid out.

“Um, Y-yes. Yes, I feel such joy and fulfillment in what I do and what it means for my people.” He placed the metal instruments down on the woven cloth that held other items, ones that looked sharper and more intimidating the longer you looked. The response was a murmured thank you as he began placing crushed herbs over the now clean wounds. As the gauze was wrapped around each finger delicately, it was Cirdan’s turn to ask a question.

“I am curious about your ship; it saddens me that I did not have a chance to see its beauty.” The fingers he still wrapped tensed in his hands; at looking up, he saw how the color left your face, eyes turned down; it was clear you weren't there with him at that moment. “Oh, I am sorry,” turning, he brought a warm cup of tea to your lips, your hands still unable to hold anything. “In my curiosity, I did not think of your pain and loss.”

The elves' eyes watched subtly as your lips curled and then relaxed to part, observing how your throat swallowed the warm liquid he had provided. Patiently waiting until you had your fill before putting the cup down and turning back to finish bandaging up to your wrists.

Cirdan finished the bandaging with the last wrap around your wrist. In the time it took to stand, gather the instruments, and look between you and his designs on the table, an idea began to form at the front of his mind. “Is it difficult to ascertain a new vessel in your homelands?” His back faced you as he cleaned the blood from the metal objects in the sink.

His shoulders dropped as your voice broke. “My home is very far from here.” For the second time in the night, the boat master felt his heartbreak at such sadness.

That settles it, then. He had to do something. There was only so long and so little room that Grey Haven’s harbor could offer hospitality, not to mention there being no clear path ahead for you. “What I say next, you must know, is not meant to push you out.” He watches the way you curl into yourself, preparing in resignation already.

“My home is small, not suited to provide the proper healing your crew needs. I will send a message to my king-,” Your eyes widen, shaking your head as you tell him no. But he will hear none of it. Raising a hand to stop your protests, the elf continues, “I will write to my king and ask that he finds it in his heart to show compassion, especially to those that deserve it.”

You tell him you don't know how to repay his kindness; he scoffs and drinks the now-cold tea to hide the blush dusting the apple of his cheeks. The rest of the night is spent playing a few games of chess. It would have just been one, but with your hands being as they are, you kept accidentally bumping multiple pieces around. With each game, the conversation turned back to ships, elven ships.

As the darkness of night began to give way to the first glow of dawn on the horizon, Cirdan excused himself to write the letter that would be sent ahead to Lindon’s Capital. At that same time, you went to Sal. Gently, you slinked into the bedroom so as not to wake the rest of the crew before sitting on the edge of the bed that was so graciously granted to your first mate.

“Sal, Sal!” You voiced louder than planned at the shorter man’s deep sleep, which refused to release him. Finally, the rough shake to his shoulder roused him. “Wha-Whats going on?” With a quick hand over his mouth to quiet him down, you pressed a finger to your lips before whispering. “I have just spent the last few hours speaking with our new friend. He has been very kind.”

You couldn't help but chuckle at the responding wiggling eyebrows, his single eye wide in excitement. “How kind?” You leaned in to reply with a whisper, a wicked smile its companion. “Kind enough to ask if his king would help us.” Sal’s jaw dropped in shock before punching your shoulder. “How in the hell did you pull that off?”

Sitting straight, the back of your hand pressed to your forehead, sighing dramatically before speaking, “Who will take pity on little ole me, a female captain with no ship to call home? My poor crew, so ill, that even elven healers struggle to help them.”

Shaking his head while chuckling, Sal crossed his arms while wiggling more comfortably into the bed’s soft feather pillows. “So what’s the plan?”

Your smirk grew at the question.

———————

With the first rays of morning light, a plan in motion, and rules set in place, you met with Cirdan and the escort outside his home, where a hiccup had already appeared.

You nervously approached the giant beast, flinching back when its large nostrils grunted out a rush of breath. “I’ve never ridden a horse before. Can I not just walk behind?” A sympathetic smile graced the boat master’s lips as the other elf mounted their steed. “Walking would take extra days that your crew may not have. If you are unsure of riding alone, ride with the escort; they will ensure your safe arrival.”

Anxiously, you nodded in agreement, unable to see a different path around the logic presented. A few awkward jumps and one petrified yelp later saw you and the expert rider heading up the road to the capital—the poor elf at the mercy of your fearfully white-knuckled grip in their ribs. The pain in your hands be damned.

Lindon’s Palace

My Dear King,

I write to you earnestly, asking that aid be offered to someone deserving of such compassion. A pirate attack has left my new friend without a ship or home, and a crew suffering from ailments beyond my healing capabilities. The ship's Captain will arrive with an escort so that you yourself can make sound judgments of their character.

Gil-Galad re-read the letter. In his years of friendship with the Lord of Grey Haven, only a handful of times had the elder asked for royal assistance, unlike some of the other stewards of his kingdom, who seemed to lack such abstention.

He sighed when sid-eyeing the pile of letters and scrolls stacked high upon the oak desk, still awaiting answers. Fiddling with the paper’s edge, unrolling it further as he sat in thought, a previously unseen line of penmanship caught his attention.

I suggest conversing over a game of chess; you may be pleasantly surprised as I was in their company.

Your Faithful Friend, Cirdan

With a scoff, he flicked the paper back to its place on the desk's clutter. It had been hours, and barely a dent had been made in the mountain of documents that had arrived the day before.

With his kingdom settling into a gentle rhythm after so many years of war, the High King started feeling something unexpected- boredom. Gone were the days of extreme stress, battle planning, and mourning for his people. Now, they were filled with small pleasantries, mastering crafts, and, unfortunately, paperwork.

Leaning back into the hand-carved chair, fingers rubbed along the pulsing ache of his forehead, pain caused by the hours of eyes straining on documents.

A groan left his chest when an unfortunately familiar warmth spread across the top of a kneecap. The morning’s rays had started to inch into his room, their gentle cares on his vestige announcing that another sleepless night had passed.

Muscles ached and throbbed as he stood to stretch before walking to the window to watch the sunrise. His attention to the sunrise over the horizon was shifted down from his room in the tower at the arrival of a horse carrying two persons.

One was an elf, and the other a human woman. It was hard not to chuckle while watching as her arms shakily reached out to the escort to assist in the dismount from their horse, legs wobbling once on solid ground. As the escort walked off with the creature to announce their arrival, she stayed in place, observing the entry area's flora and white-barked trees.

It was rare to see a human in his kingdom. Even in memory, it was a struggle to gleam the last one and when they came. It was not surprising, as curiosity peaked about the mortal creature that had appeared at random.

That is what he told himself, at least, as his eyes fixated on the wild wind-swept hair that glowed from the crepuscular rays of morning. And repeated internally again, when observing the silhouette outlined from the sheer fabrics she wore when bending to smell a vine of jasmine.

The voice was not repeated a third time when his eyes honed in on the gentle slopes of her bust; nipples pebbled hard by the cold morning's dew. Each movement allowed more and more to be revealed by the fabric's owner. The tall elf’s heart rate panicked at admiring rounded hips that harmonized with the tops of plush, strong thighs and a waist--

When a knock raps at the bedroom door, he jumps, placing a wide palm to his chest, letting out a breath he was unaware was being held. With a final glance back at the woman, he shakes his head and asks the attendant to come in.

“High King, a visitor has arrived from Grey Haven to speak with you. Master Cirdan has sent them.” Gil-Galad froze, and his heart rate, still yet to calm down from moments ago, increased.

A quick glance to the desk where Cirdan’s note sat, as its words read out in his mind. Certainly, she was not the captain he spoke of. What in the world was that blasted boatmaker thinking? The shorter elf’s expression made Gil-Galad realize he took longer than usual to respond.

“I will be there in but a moment. Please see that our guest is attended to until then.” Gil-Galad’s eyebrow quirked as his attendant paused awkwardly, a tilt of his head letting the shorter elf know to speak. “Sire, your meeting with the human may need to wait a few days so that-“ Gil-Galad held up his hand as the memory of sheer fabric flashed away just as quickly as it had appeared.

“Master Cirdan has informed me that the aid needed for the human stands on the direness of time. I will meet with them first during my morning meal; that should allow a better inclusion of my schedule.”

With a swift nod, the shorter elf leaves to inform the morning staff of the changes. In the reflection across from where he stood, exhausted eyes and a stern expression looked back. In a singular sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose. Just when it seems a moment to himself has appeared, the morning maids come in to prepare a bath and lay out the royal robes.

In toe behind them, the royal retainer began listing the days itinerary, explaining how every minute of the hours were filled with meetings, agreements, and document signatures. With a singular sigh and torpid blink, he turns to take the prepared bath and begrudgingly get the day started.

When an attendant had come to gather you and usher the way to an empty grand dining room to wait, it felt like a small gift.

Palpations had been occurring every few minutes since the moment your feet touched the ground after riding for hours. Hopefully, this would give time to help calm them. Chalking the rapid heart rate up to nerves and still feeling so tired, you reminded yourself that rest, food, and sleep would come eventually. But the plan took precedence over everything, no matter the cost.

The first few minutes were spent sitting at the opposite end of the room’s expansive stone table, until those nerves raised back up—skin itching, and not just on the slowly scabbing wounds of your hands. Legs crossed only to un-cross and then cross again. The liquid in the glass of wine on the table rippled from how hard your knee bounced. When all this did nothing to aid in the growing feeling of unease, you resorted to pacing back and forth, back and forth, until the feeling of dizziness came on.

At the sound of your stomach echoing into the quiet room, you side-eyed the table. The temptation was hard to resist at the site of the varying fruits, cheeses, bread, and dishes for breakfast. While subtle, the aromas still had made their way to your nose.

With a head shake, you continued pacing; by now, you were sure that a grove had been worked into the floor. Glancing back to the chair at the opposite end of the table, a small tremor corded its way from where the palpations started to both of your poor, still wobbling legs. One misstep, one accidental insult, and the plan would be over before it could be put into motion.

With a deep breath, you hoped to calm your heart’s racing; nervousness would not be an ally. Another breath, followed by many more in succession. Still, the beating thrummed with such intensity it felt as if the betraying organ was in your throat, determined to expel itself and do a jig at your feet to taunt you.

Distraction.

Distraction would help, you hoped. Turning around, you desperately tried to focus now on the grandiose tapestry that hung twenty feet in the air. Its textured masterpiece taking so much space that the raw threadbare edges touched the flooring and side walls.

Red, look for something red. Rose bushes came into clarity on the lower section. A breath, this one a little easier- but still, your chest held tight. Animals, find the animals. Swans were flying in the open sky of the fibers- was that a unicorn?

Each detail of the textile artwork helped to distract from the sensation that rattled against your ribs. In a further attempt to add comfort, you wrapped your arms around yourself, desperately hoping to soothe the nerves that struggled to dissipate.

____

Even after the warmth of a bath and fresh clothes, Gil-Galad found his heart rate had yet to slow since looking out the window. Surely it was just another sleepless night of work that made it hard to calm such a tempestuous beating? Obviously, this peculiar feeling was not brought on by how his mind's eye sought to wave the memory of curves, backlit in a warm glow—always right when mental clarity was needed.

When reaching the dining hall, Gil-Galad held up a hand to let his attendant know he would be entering the room alone, unannounced. Cirdan had made it clear that he should make a sound and solid judgment of the Captain's character before making any decisions in the offer of aid. A wisdom he would heed. Speaking would also be better without extra eyes watching. However, it would have been better if his mind had been allowed to think of questions to ask before this moment.

Quietly, the private royal entrance opened, its door only opening for him and him alone. Stone that once lay flat and blended into the wall shifted back, then slid just enough for his size to squeeze into the room—unnoticed. The internal expectation from past interactions with mortals was that his guest would be gorging themselves on the food laid before them. But once inside, surprise met that expectation. The only other chair besides his sat empty, the dishes untouched.

There, at the other end of the room, unaware of his presence, you stood. Elven ears picked up the sounds of deep breathing, eyes watching as your heavily bandaged hands rubbed your arms while swaying gently from side to side. Gil-Galad’s eyes trailed once more to the clothes draped on your figure. Cirdan had dressed you in something so sheer?

Perhaps the boat builder had not realized that the gift offered to you had been- No. Cirdan was too bright and observant to have missed something like this. That old perverted- at the memory of this morning, the realization he had no hill to stand on and judge hit him.

Yet, he could not look away. The tension came back to his chest, and just as it began to crawl its way down, inch by inch, to an area of his body that he refused to acknowledge, panic set in and forced the moment to break.

“You have yet to eat.”

With a yelp of shock, you nearly jumped out of your skin. Turning with wide eyes and a hand to your poor, overworked, thumping heart. Finding the voice’s owner standing at the opposite end of the room.

When first trying to picture what an elven king might have looked like, your imagination pulled from what was known of your own kind. Rulers that were repugnant, rotund, and gangrenous from a life of riches and idleness.

What you did not anticipate was to be greeted with the amused expression of a very tall elf, whose attractiveness you pretended not to feel any way about. It took a moment for the shock to pass before finding yourself. “N-no.” A breath. “No, I felt it would be rude to eat before my host arrived.”

It was as if time had frozen for a moment, two statues unmoving as they visually memorized what was in front of them. Sheer fabric clashed with the opulent, almost excessive layers of gold on the opposite side. Warm brown eyes, unblinking in their seriousness, scrutinized the shocked hesitancy in your own.

When you both tried to speak simultaneously, a polite smile graced his lips as he motioned for you to go first. A thanks would be the best choice, grateful that such a renowned, elven king would spare an hour to hear a poor human captain’s woes. Pleasantries to be embellished so prettily in their bestowment.

Sadly, that option would be ruined by a comically loud growl from your stomach, no doubt retaliation at being teased for so long by such appetizing smells. Gil-Galad watched as your eyes shut laggardly before opening again, now refusing to meet his own from embarrassment.

He gave you a gift of mercy in finding the strength to choke back a laugh. “It would appear that, as a host, I have been discourteous to test the patience of such a considerate guest.” Motioning for you to sit, he continued, “Please, eat. I would ask if you are hungry, but I believe that answer has already been given.”

Unlike the High King, you did not find the strength to choke back a laugh from the jest. When your eyes met again, an expression of mirth greeted the faint blush of your cheeks. Gods have mercy; this was going to be a challenge. The elf barely said two sentences, and already, you were struggling.

Gil-Galad gulped as you pulled up your chair to sit more comfortably; he could not understand the reasons for his nerves. His gaze trailed once more to the unexpected guest across the table, unknowingly unaware of the detail being taken in of your personage.

In the earnings that dangled down to the tops of your collar bones, polished beads of sea glass glowed, backlit by the candles behind you. Indigo-dyed whalebone and sea urchin spines brandished with petrified beads of amber hung on uneven lengths of fishing wire.

Rough and raw cut jewels adorned roughly smithed mental bands, assorted in the widths of rings that hung from your neck while your fingers healed. He would admit that such ornaments are much more maximal and eclectic than is commonly seen of his own kind.

His heart rate, which had just calmed, began racing again as he watched your lips part, tongue welcoming a bite of food. His vision tunneled to take in greater detail when your brows knit together in pleasure as the flavors danced across your palate.

Blinking, he pulled himself out of the hyper-focus when reaching forward to grip the golden handle of a wine glass. Trying to calm the returning tension he had felt when watching you from when he first entered the room. This was going to be a problem.

Light filtered off your fork, hand tremoring in hunger as the choices become overwhelming. It felt as if the room was getting darker and hazy around its edges. Cirdan had offered food when playing chess, but between the pain in your hands and the nausea from still coming down from the adrenalin of survival, any thought of eating was quickly turned down.

On top of that, the ship had floated for two days into the fjord without a bite of food or water. To say you were starving was an understatement. It took every ounce of self-control not to gorge like a wild animal after the first bite into a roasted pear with salted honey, its juices bursting in your mouth.

“Lord Cirdan wrote that your ship and crew were attacked by pirates and are in further need of aid.” The question caught you off guard, cheeks chipmunk-ed out at trying to fit as many roasted butter beans into your mouth as physically possible. Peeking up, it was obvious the elf knew exactly what he had done from the smirk that pulled from the edges of his lips.

As desperate as you were to swallow your way out of this, chewing was the only option. Could you simply spit out the beans? Yes, but that would only cause further humiliation for him to watch the act. Quickly grabbing the napkin laid under the other silverware, you covered your lips and cheeks as you chewed quickly, jaw clicking from the strain.

When finally able to get the last bit down to respond, another question was put forth. “What exactly happened to your ship, the- what was its name?”

Cirdan had been correct in knowing his king would hold no punches in the judgment of your character. Gil-Galad knew that his questioning was starting to get under your skin. And what better way to begin seeing someone for who they are than by seeing how they handle their frustration?

As the minutes passed and no response was given, his eyebrow raised expectantly. Were you trying to formulate a lie? At the tilt of his head, his eyes hardened. “Are you alright?”

You chuckled hollowly, feeling a spark of enjoyment in watching Gil-Galad’s expression change to irritation as you spoke. Two could play at that game. “Only waiting to see if there are other questions, Your Majesty. I do not wish to offend such a curious mind by interrupting its thoughts.”

Gil-Galad knew that if he were here, Elrond would snort out his wine. It appears that the High King would also be judged on how his temper would be handled. Raising his palm, he gave the motion to speak.

With a deep sigh, you tried to calm the frustration that had been brought forth. “My crew and I were set upon by pirates three days ago; their cannons tore holes into the hull of my ship. By some miracle, we escaped from being boarded, but in our escape, I had steered us into a waterway that none of us recognized.”

When no interruption came, you continued. “Lord Cirdan had seen my ship just as it began taking on more water than we could bucket out.” It was unnerving being watched so intensely, warm eyes unblinking in their judgment of every word uttered into the air. “He was kind enough to offer aid. But he realized we have no way of getting home, at least not any way that would not take years on foot.”

Still not a blink from the scrutinizing gaze, you gulped to wet your now cotton-dry throat as sweat dripped down your neck. “Asking for help is not something I have any practice in. But for the people that depend on me, I will do anything in my capabilities to see that they survive.”

Silence stretched between you both. Gil-Galad contemplated your tale, sight now set on the wine glass before him. When speaking of your crew and their care, he could sense no lies, but why was his gut tightening, waiting, and expecting? It felt as if something was missing. Perhaps speaking of such a harrowing escape was not something you wished to delve into further detail.

Or -gods forgive him- the tightening that was felt had nothing to do with your words, and more to do with the internal befuddlement trying to be ignored since your arrival.

You watched as golden fibers wrapped around the barrel waist in front of you strained against expanding ribs. A deep, belly-filled breath was exhaled slowly and quietly in contemplation. As his lips parted to speak, the dining room’s doors opened. The shorter elf that first guided you in giving a small bow.

“High King, I apologize for the interruption, but the lords are gathered and waiting for you.” Whatever tension that had been building was broken instantly. Fresh air from the outside corridor wafted in, and both of you took the opportunity to breathe.

The sound of chair legs scraped against the floor as he stood, an air of equanimity held in his stance as he stared down at where you still sat, slouched back into your seat. “Please forgive my sudden departure. I would like to continue this discussion later this evening if you are amenable to the offer.” He continued at the single nod you gave while walking over to his attendant.

“Please see that our guest is given a room and fed.” At the bow of the shorter elf, the two of them slowly walked out into the hall, leaving you to watch as the door closed behind them. Once Gil-Galad was certain that you could not hear, he leaned down to whisper one last order. “And see to it that she has…warmer attire prepared. I would not wish for our guest to take a chill from the temperature tonight.” At the hesitant bow given before the shorter elf left, Gil-Galad realized he was not the only one struggling whenever what you were wearing was seen.

Once alone, he sighed while pinching the bridge of his nose. It had only been a singular hour of the morning, and already, it was obvious that the day would be as long as it was stressful.

I have this idea that Gil-Galad is never truly content. War? -Hate it. Calm and tranquil? - Bored out of his mind. So when this Captain comes around he both loves and hates how hes feeling. I'm working on outlining the next chapter but it may take a bit before its edited and posted. So please be patient. Love you all and hope you enjoy and are surviging my friends!

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[maybe-i-dreamt-u]

mmmh so i finished tgr and i have so so many thoughts and feelings and i'll probably be making a few lolnger posts about them all but for now a quick rundown for anyone that wants to takl to me about it bc I am BURSTING

so like we all agree tsc3 is gonna have jeremy's mom finding out about him and jean dating and lose her shit and it'll probably happen like 250+ pages in when you just think oh it's gonna be alright and then SIKE NO ITS NOT ... right?

jesus CHRIST i am losing my mind at jean's subtle flirting and it's not even directed at me god have mercy on jeremy bc jean sure isn't

KEVIN DAY MY BELOVED KEVIN YOU POOR THUNG KEVIN YOU BITCH RAHHH KEVIN I WILL DEFEND YOU FOREVER AND ALWAYS DO YOU HEAR ME nah cause this book finally made me get back to my kevin/jean (solely platonic) relationship study fic i was writing like LAST YEAR and I am coming back HARD for it and making it even more painful THANK YOU

Kevin why wont anyone listen to you Kevin why doesnt anyone care about your goddamn wellbeing (aside from jeremy but this reinforces my thesis that Kevin literally does not. have any real friends.

like jeremy barely knows him tbh and is living across the country, jean does not want anything to do with him anymore and anyway he is too hurt himself to help Kevin heal and NEIL AND ANDREW PMO SO MMUCH now don't get me wrong I love neil and andrew as much as the next bitch I get excited every time they are mentioned but bro they Do Not care about Kevin... And Thea? jesusdo not remind me.

like in general i try to pretend her relationship to kevin is nonexistent (for my INNER PEACE tyvm) but even if i do acknowledge it.. girl how's thea gonna help kevin heal or VICE VERSA

anyway this is turning into a Kevin ramble, more on that some other time

jeremy. jeremy do you know you have my heart. every time you open your mouth jeremy you win me all over again, I have a type and it is BLONDS WHO ARE TOO KIND FOR THEIR OWN GOOD (aka Jeremy in Tamaki Suoh cosplay when)

ngl before tgr i washoping we'd get more scenes of Jeremy sleeping around but now I TAKE IT BACK JUST GIVE ME JEREJEAN ALREADY

The bikes????? the matching bikes???? hottest thing ive ever seen in my life NEXT QUESTION

i feel like the house burning thing was kinda.. unnecessary? idk i'm being picky but imo it didn 't really.. do anthing for the plot, besides enable them to get that damn dog (said enearingly), like i'm not complaining the book was a little longer but also.. kinda just olut of no where???

what are the chances that all the ravens commiting suicides committed the same typa suicide as riko and seth? like what if Ichiro just. is just so done with this goddamn team and he doesn't want them staining the moriyama name anymore? he's letting the "good, quiet ones" go and getting rid of whoever was causing too much trouble? idk just a theory bc for some reason so many ravens ALL AT ONCE??? is almost suspicious to me

lastly to end on a good note CATALAILA!!!! CATALAILA MY BELOVED the bestest lesbians the bestest wuhluhwuh in the world, my soul has been healed, my heart has been fed with the GIRLS have you ever seen such a beautiful and loving relationship EVER no you haven't, and that's the power of women hit SEND

[genshin-obsessed]

Bound to You | Blade x Reader

Howdy! So, I don't have a real reason for writing this, other than I felt like it. I've been heavily debating doing more fantasy type fics, but I just don't have a proper idea. This might just help me a little! I think this should have 3 parts just to finish up the story, so I may most likely add two more to this. Word count: 4516 Extras: Fantasy AU

Blade's red orange eyes practically glared at you as you flipped through the third book in your possession. He watched the frantic look in your eyes only get worse as this book was yet another dead end. The previously darkened room was illuminated by the large sigil Blade was sitting on. It was bright yellow, with every symbol pulsating with enough power to keep Blade prisoner. Golden cuffs with long, ghost-like chains held onto his wrists, refraining him from leaving the sigil that he'd been summoned with.

"Could you at least let me go?" He asked, his tone of voice indicating his clear frustration. His head was propped up on his closed fist, while his elbow rested on his knee. It had been so long, at this point, he was just bored.

"No!" You yelled as you looked over at him with a frown. "You've been doing nothing but yelling at me and hurling insults." Blade sat up a little, that fighting fire lit within him once more.

"Oh? What the hell else am I supposed to say? Only an idiot confuses a binding spell for a summoning one." Your frown only deepened at his sarcastic words as you placed a hand on your hip.

"It was an accident! It was really just a test to see if it was even going to work!" You argued, but it only irritated the demon before you.

"Who reads an incantation out loud as a test? You really are an idiot." He scoffed, making you groan out loud. For the last hour and a half, he'd done nothing but call you dumb and stupid for what you did. Which was fair. You certainly didn't mean to bind a demon of his worth to you, you just wanted to practice summoning a demon for future fights! However, you were so engrossed in reading, you accidentally read aloud the incantation... which wasn't even the right one, you came to find out. As for the sigil… well, you just decided to set it up to see how much work it would require. You did intend to use it but at a later date since none of the items were perishables.

"Hey, I'm still really new at this mage thing, ok?"

"You're new to using magic, but not new to reading right? It literally states on the page before that it's meant to bind demons to your own soul. You know, even we don't use spells like that." He explained as he adjusted his legs that were beginning to get sore.

"What? But don't demons make that whole pact binding thing?" He rolled his eyes, as if he wasn't surprised that you would even ask such a question.

"No. We create contracts that are called pacts. Both parties list their terms and conditions and once those terms are fulfilled, the pact comes to an end. The connection between demon and mortal is held by the signed contract, which is why they're kept safe and hidden. As you know- or at least I hope you know- the easiest way to break a contract with a demon is to destroy the actual tome it's written on. Soul binding is nearly unbreakable. It actually binds the souls together and there are no conditions required for it. There is no tome to break and it's an extremely powerful spell that’s almost forbidden." He explained, doing his best to stay calm since he had been furious the entire night and it was exhausting.

With every word that spilled from his lips, you realized just how grave your situation was. You... really didn't mean to do this. You wanted to practice summoning a demon which is why you set up the circle exactly as stated in the old grimoire you found. Blade had a point... the instructions and sigil were on one page but the page before had all the warnings including the title. Somehow when you were flipping through the book, you skipped over that. Mainly because the next page explained which color candles to use for what demon. So, you figured it was just a regular old summoning spell.

"There... is a way to break it, right?" You asked, your eyes flickering to the demon.

"Of course there's a way to break it. Every spell can be broken, but the more powerful the spell, the more limitations appear. This particular spell is avoided by many precisely because of how difficult it is to break it. Even your death wouldn't break it, you'd just be resurrected because you're attached to my soul. And vice versa."

"Aren't you already dead?" Blade's eyes widened at the audacity you had to ask the dumbest question he'd ever heard in the centuries he'd been alive.

"Are you serious? No, demons aren't dead, in fact, we can't die permanently. We just get resurrected in hell, which is probably where you're going after this dumbass stunt." Your eyes widened at his words, and you couldn't help the words just escaping your lips.

"Does that mean I'm stuck with you for eternity?"

"No. I'm stuck with you for eternity." Blade corrected, with an irritated smile ghosting his lips as he looked away, shaking his head in disappointment. He was far from the most powerful demon in the hellish realms, but he was up there and to be stuck to such a weak mage was practically insulting. Not to mention your lack of understanding in apparently everything.

Though… you did succeed in the spell which felt like the biggest shot of luck ever; but spells like this didn’t ride on luck. 

"Why would anyone have a soul binding spell for demons?" You asked with a pout, your eyes glancing at the torn, leathery binding of the grimoire you'd used earlier.

"It's a grimoire right, and not a scroll?” Grimoires, as opposed to single use spell scrolls, were written by high level magic users. Mages- and often witches- usually created their own. There were a multitude of reasons from convenience to secrecy, if they’re confident enough, they could create their own spells. “Chances are whoever owned that grimoire was probably close enough with a demon to bind their souls together. It's an easy way to gain immortality.” Blade replied, his own red-orange eyes flickering to the grimoire that sat on the small pedestal.

"Isn't using magic to make yourself immortal punishable by an eternity in the prison of torment?" You questioned as you walked over and grabbed the grimoire.

"Only if you're found out." Blade answered, leaning back on his hands and staring up at your ceiling. "It's not easy to recognize a bound soul when they're both powerful. Our magic will intertwine and you can use my own soul energy for yourself. To those who aren't like the High Mages, you'll just look like a strong magic user."

You opened the grimoire, walking back over to Blade who looked at you. Kneeling beside the sigil, you placed the grimoire in between you two and slowly moved through the pages.

"Honestly, it just has simple spells. Here's one to make plants grow faster, then there's a minor healing spell, one to help wash dishes, then the spell I used to summon you, but then there's this orb spell which preserves whatever you put inside of it, this one helps dig tunnels- I mean this is a total beginner friendly grimoire." You said as you looked up at him. However, Blade was still staring down at the grimoire.

"Give it here, I wanna look at it."

"Sure." You slid the grimoire into the circle allowing Blade to grab it, picking it up and flipping through the pages. He was silent for a moment as he read through each of them before turning the book back to you.

"I knew it. It's been modified." It was the spell to create a preservation orb.

"How do you know?" You asked, tilting your head a bit as your eyes glanced over the text. Nothing looked weird.

"Magic is second nature to us. I know this spell and the original's orb lasts at most three days before it expires. This one doesn't- it's a permanent orb."

"Ok, so they improved upon it? What's the issue?" You countered as Blade placed the book back in his lap. “Didn’t you just say magic users can make their own spells?”

"There's a bunch of beginner friendly spells, then a nearly impossible spell to cast and a modified preservation orb spell? Nothing seems out of the ordinary? Who did this book belong to?"

"I don't know, I found it in a ruined house." You said with a shrug, making Blade's eyes widen.

"You just picked up some random person's grimoire and started to play with it?"

"Well, I wasn't worried because it had a bunch of beginner friendly spells and it let me touch it. So, I just thought it was a grimoire made for newbies like me!" Why wasn't Blade surprised you would do something like that?

"Well, for one, it didn’t react negatively with you because it's made for us. Whoever created this was obviously a magic user- that's you... somehow. And it's meant to help bind a demon's soul, which is me. I don't think the author expected anyone to find it, though it’ll blast anyone else who tries." The lack of hesitation in his words made you flinch a little.

"So, other than immortality, why would someone bind their soul to a demon?" You asked, making Blade sigh as he fell in thought. That piqued his curiosity as well, why would someone go to these lengths and not just make a contract?

"I don't know. Power, control, the ability to traverse the hells, maybe even love? Though, the weird orb situation is the most confusing. Whatever this person was doing, they needed a preservation orb that lasted... forever."

"Think if we find the orb, we'll know more?"

"Probably, but you still need to let me out of here." Blade said, referring to the sigil he was sitting on. A frown crossed your lips and you were silent for a moment. You may not have meant to summon him, but you could tell he was a powerful demon. You needed one in combat because you weren't the best fighter and were still a novice. However, you knew he'd leave the first chance he got and... you didn't want that.

Blade stared at you before reaching forward, still within the boundaries of the sigil, and snapped in front of your face. It was enough to pull you out of your thoughts.

"Hello? Let me out."

"What if you run away?" You asked in a small voice, your tone wavering as if you weren't sure whether those words should escape your lips or not.

"Go where? You'll know exactly where I am 24/7, which is one of the perks of soul binding. I can't go anywhere without you knowing. Not only that, as the creator of the bond and me being a demon, you have some level of control over me."

So, he'd stay if you commanded him to? Not only that, but he'd protect you in battle if you commanded him? So far, this soul binding thing didn't seem so bad. You couldn't die, this powerful demon was gonna be with you all the time, and he would do whatever you asked. You weren't entirely sure of your specialization... but conjuration didn't seem so bad with him.

"Ok." You replied, sitting on your legs and touching the edge of the symbol with both palms. According to the book, it was quite easy to make it go away- which was the opposite of setting it up and drawing it. The symbol's bright light began to dim, little by little before it dissipated completely.

Blade inhaled sharply, exhaling slowly and he stood up. The ghostly chains that held him to the sigil were gone, but the cuffs remained on his wrists. He raised his arm to get a better look at it. There were symbols on the cuffs themselves, which he recognized as protection spells. Multiple of them.

For him or for you?

His red orange eyes flickered to you before he roughly reached out and grabbed your throat. A scream escaped your lips as he yanked you forward, giving you little time to fight back. You felt his sharp nails digging into the sides of your neck as he squeezed tightly. His grip was strong, cutting off your breathing in seconds. Against his brute strength, you could do nothing except attempt to pry his hand off. 

"Th-the hell?!" You choked out, weakly looking up at him. However, he released you as quickly as he grabbed you, staring down at his cuffs again. You instantly took a step back, gaining distance from him. After a brief coughing fit, you spoke up. "What was that for?!"

"It's not for you..." he mumbled, entranced by the spell writing on his cuffs. He didn’t even seem the least worried about your current state as he began to examine the cuffs once more. Why would a demon get a protection spell? Not one, but multiple.

"What are you talking about?" You asked, making him look over at you. He held his arm up, the cuff glowing a dim gold. You could feel the power radiating off of the bands, even making you look away for a moment. He was really stuck, there was no way he could ever break out of those.

"There are protection spells on this thing, but they aren't for you. In fact, I could've killed you right there, which is bizarre. I've never heard of a mage putting a protection spell on a demon. Especially in this situation, where it would be more beneficial for you to have safety from me."

Usually, demons had no reason to harm or kill those they made contracts with. The end goal was to acquire the soul, which could easily be done through granting their wishes. But soul binding was different, there were no end goals. At the end of the day, Blade owed you nothing, not even his mercy.

"So, you choke me to find out?" You yelled, glaring at him a little. Your heart was still pounding in your chest and you weren’t sure if you could trust him considering he just admitted to being able to kill you. Even if you wouldn’t stay dead for long, you didn’t want to die! 

"If I told you, you would've expected it. Whatever spell is meant to protect you, wouldn't kick in if you don't truly believe I'm going to harm you. So, I didn't say anything. But I released you by choice, nothing actually stopped me. Meaning... this mage trusted the demon they bonded with. I'm starting to think it was a friends or lovers situation." You rubbed your throat while he spoke, turning away from him a little.

"Can demons even be trusted?"

"Only as far as their contracts are concerned. No demon will ever break a contract. Otherwise, not really." Well, at least he was honest.

Eventually, Blade walked closer to you, stopping only a couple feet away. Your hand briefly flew up to your neck but he made no sudden movements. Instead, holding his hand out, he met your gaze with his own. This time, you saw no anger or hatred, which brought an inkling of comfort to your mind. 

"I am Blade. For the time being, I will be your personal demon. You may use my services as you wish, and I will do my best to protect you from any harm. I only ask that in return you help me break this soul bond."

Your eyes slowly fell to the outstretched hand as his words rang in your ears. You didn't expect him to say something like that, but at the same time, your soul bond was a type of contract, right? So, he was just abiding by it.

Hesitantly, you reached out and grabbed his hand, your fingers tightening around it. Raising your eyes, you nodded to his terms.

"Ok. I will help you break the bond. Thank you for serving me." Yet, the words felt like sandpaper in your mouth. You weren’t entirely certain why, but you knew your words weren’t genuine.

Once that was done and over with, Blade retracted his hand and walked back to the grimoire. His eyes slid across the old pages, searching for any clue. As far as he was concerned, he could only sense a weak protection spell on it, nothing else. That meant the pages hadn’t been altered with magic. 

“Where did you find this? We should go back there to see if we find any more clues.” With little hesitation, you found yourself nodding to his words.

“Sure, but it’s a bit of a trek. I found it on a trip I just recently went on.” You explained as he walked to your desk and grabbed your bag, putting the grimoire inside of it.

“Doesn’t matter to me. By the way, until we figure out who made this book, try not to use it. Even if the spells are simple, they’re not meant for you. Best to leave them alone.” Understanding what he meant, you agreed. That book clearly had a purpose which you didn’t know of. Trying to use it could cause issues like with Blade. The last thing you wanted to do was cause more problems that you didn’t even know how to solve. 

“I’ll need to get another grimoire then.” You said with a sigh. Those things didn’t come cheap and you were still a novice mage. Being able to buy one… well, it was gonna take a while.

“Why bother? Don’t you have scrolls or something?” Blade asked, looking over at you.

“Scrolls aren’t as informative as grimoires. Not to mention they take up a lot of space and some vanish once the spell is cast.” You replied with a slight sigh as you began to clean up your mess.

Blade’s emotionless eyes watched you for a moment before he began to help. For any magic user, having their very own grimoire was proof of their abilities. Not only were they great sources of power and knowledge, if a mage ever managed to climb to greatness, their grimoires would get preserved in the Library of Novis, which was the biggest library the entire region, said to contain every single spell known to man.

Novice grimoires were often given to young students just beginning their journey into the arcane, but were usually loans and needed to be returned. Blade couldn’t begin to understand why you didn’t have one. There were plenty of grimoires handed down within families for young mages, yet not only did you not have one, but you chose that dingy book that clearly had its own ulterior motives.

A bit pathetic… but admirable. Though the spell you casted was powerful and unstable, you did it. No destruction came to you, this small space, or him. In fact, Blade felt great, technically speaking. The sigil also subdued his powers and kept him there and that’s something he expected from a high level mage.

Blade stopped for a moment and looked at you as you kept picking up the candles you’d laid out. The space around you two was dark, but Blade could make out the rundown walls and floorboards with his sharp eyes. The room was barren except for a small desk on the side, an old looking bed on the other, and what seemed to be a dresser beside the bed. The scent of dust lingered in the air and tickled his nose- it was almost enough to give him allergies. Turning his head, he saw two training dummies against the wall behind him, both covered in a thick layer of dust with cobwebs to boot.

Looking back at you, he noted a frown on your face which was expected. But with your newly created bond… he also felt your resolve. In fact, if he focused hard enough, he felt your desperation to be a great Mage.

An Archmage. Like the legendary celestial, Alessia. Noting that you were distracted, Blade decided this was the best time to peek inside your mind. Inhaling softly, the demon closed his eyes and focused on you. Your presence was heavy in his mind and heart.

He could feel your breathing, gentle and soft. Your heartbeat was strong, yet hastened. He felt your muscles moving as you picked up each item and threw it into a nearby box. Every curl of your fingers made his own tingle. Soul binding was scary, even he wouldn’t attempt something so stupid. But, he had to admit- it was fascinating to be here like this with you. You felt like an extension of himself yet he couldn’t control you.

Pushing past the physical aspects, he delved into your mind. Other than you scolding yourself over and over for making this mistake, he felt that resolve again. To be better, to be stronger, to be more mindful. There was a lingering sadness that he couldn’t decipher. He wanted to push past it, to see what you were thinking but stopped himself.

A gasp escaped his lips as his eyes shot open, feeling the sensation fade away. His eyes landed on you once more, who hadn’t realized what had just occurred. He could just peak into your mind like that? You couldn’t ever hide a secret from him. Yet, the idea of pushing through your defenses to peer into your mind felt unfair. You wouldn’t appreciate that, right? Being you and all.

There is one thing he wanted to hear you say.

“Hey, (y/n).” He called, making you look over at him, your hand abruptly stopping. It felt weird hearing him say your name and not call you an idiot or something.

“What?”

“Are you allied with a college? For your magical training, I mean.” At his words, you shook your head.

“If I was, I wouldn’t have summoned you the way I did. I actually can’t afford attending a college right now. I wasn’t born with the gift so I never prepared. Now, I’m so much worse off because of it that I can’t even attend a college if I wanted to. I’d just humiliate myself and make life harder.” Your words weren’t burdened with sorrow or anger, as if you were just stating pure fact. Even in his own heart, he didn’t feel any particular emotion stir. What? You just internalized your failure and called it a day? This was the worst way to learn magic in his expert opinion.

Plenty of thoughts filled Blade’s mind. With how dumb you were, it would be so easy to just manipulate you to do what he wanted. Hiding his emotions from you was an easy job, it’s not like you even knew you could look into his mind. Not only that, but you were so naive and clearly alone. But, that weird resolve of yours made him waver. You may have thought you were a failure, but you didn’t just live with it. You were still trying to learn and do better. He wasn’t sure if he was pitying you or not, but another thought flashed in his mind. One that seemed to yield a better outcome than just manipulating you. Standing up, he let out a sigh as he gestured for you to approach him.

“Come here.”

“Why?” You asked as you dropped the items in your hand into the box and walked over. Grabbing your shoulder, Blade positioned you in front of him with your back toward him. “What?”

“Like this.” Intending to put those neglected training dummies to use, he pushed one of your arms out straight, and  your palm to one of them. Reaching out, he positioned your hand in a more relaxed form. Using his foot, he pushed your feet a short distance apart and forced you to bend your knees a little. “Make sure you’re in a steady stance or you’ll fall over. From here, push your energy into your fingertips. Don’t force it, or it’ll explode.”

Deciding not to question him, you breathed and followed his instructions. It wasn’t necessarily easy to understand what he meant by energy, but you tried it anyway. For a moment, you felt a warmth at your fingertips. It was the slightest sensation that you could’ve almost missed.

“It tingles.”

“Good. It’s easy to aim since you’re pointing your hand. Be careful and try not to aim this attack recklessly. Also try to avoid heads.” He pushed your hand downward a little so you weren’t pointing at the training dummy’s head. “Once it feels like a good build up, release the energy. Literally, think in your mind that you’re letting it go.”

Giving it a moment to build up some more of that energy, you did as he said. You let go of the energy. Suddenly, a blast escaped your hand and fired straight at the dummy, hitting it right in the chest. You were knocked back a little too, but Blade kept you steady.

“What the- what was that!?”

“A blast. Good.” The demon commented as he stepped away, inspecting the dummy. Because it was a training dummy, it wasn’t destroyed but Blade could see the point of impact. That would certainly kill… as long as you didn’t fly away.

“How did you know I couldn’t do that?” You inquired, your eyes flickering to him. Even now, you felt the tingling at the tips of your fingers. It was that easy?

“Because that’s one of my attacks. You definitely don’t know it.” He replied, walking past you to finish up your attempt to clean up. “But make sure to plant your feet firmly or you’ll fall over like you almost did just now.”

He… taught you a personal spell? After all that name calling and stuff, he was actually willing to help you? That was kinda nice of him. You watched as he quickly cleaned up with his magic. He made it look so easy, flicking his fingers and making all the excess items fly into the box you’d used earlier. You hadn’t even figured that out, no wonder he kept judging you. He wasn’t entirely wrong, you were as weak as they came and he was the opposite. He grabbed the bag with the grimoire, making sure the book was secure.

This was the demon you were expected to just let go? He was powerful, smart, and handsome. You knew it was the right thing to do, but at the same time this was a good chance. A good opportunity to learn magic and have a powerful companion at your side.

“Stop staring, idiot.” He said as he looked back at you, holding the bag out to you. “Come on, we need to get going.”

“Right, thanks for the help.” You said as you took the bag from him, slinging it around your shoulder.

“Just keep your word and I’ll consider it even.” 

[vickyvicarious]

"it is maddening to think that of all the foul things that lurk in this hateful place the Count is the least dreadful to me; that to him alone I can look for safety, even though this be only whilst I can serve his purpose."

The above passage is from May 16 after the vampire women tried to drink his blood, as he realized. Today on May 19 Jonathan writes three letters to be sent home (to Mr Hawkins) on various days of June, the final one being for June 29, the end of his life.

The thing I expected was for Jonathan to wonder why he's being kept alive after today/May 19th. Dracula is, as Jonathan said, his safety "whilst I can serve his purpose". But what is his purpose? Dracula had all his real estate papers signed on the 12th (when he ordered Jonathan to stay extra and that he'll take no refusal). He is actually fluent in English. Now, a steady stream of letters will be sent to Exeter throughout June, pretending that Jonathan's returning home.

Dracula can just kill him now, or just give him to the vampire women. No one would know. I'm sure he wants Jonathan first, claiming him and claiming the lion's share, but not now when he has months yet to leave. Then once, as Dracula said, he's "done with him" maybe he'll leave the rest to the other vampires.

But I wonder why Jonathan isn't wondering why he's being kept alive until the end of June. I suppose a Doylist reason is to not give the possible answer away yet, Watsonian being him fearing to speculate without answers?

Yeah, I've wondered this myself in the past. I think for me it comes down to a combination of several factors, since there really is no single quote that points to a specific reason Jonathan seems so convinced.

Before I get into those, I do want to mention that it is possible there is still some business to be done. It's a popular interpretation that they finish the last of that all on May 12, and it does make sense with the timeline. I personally believe it. But technically, I don't think Jonathan ever mentions them signing the final papers. He says he answers all of Dracula's questions, but that could be just referring to the ones in that conversation: "When he had satisfied himself on these points of which he had spoken, and I had verified all as well as I could by the books available, he suddenly stood up and said:—" ...and then Dracula brings up him staying. Again, the interpretation that they finish all their work in that conversation is totally valid/likely. But if someone really wanted to argue that there is still some amount of actual legal work to be done, I don't believe canon says anything outright to the contrary.

That's not really my take though. Here are the reasons I think Jonathan believes he will survive until the end of June, in no particular order:

What Dracula said on May 16. He heard the Count drive the other vampires back with the words:

"Well, now I promise you that when I am done with him you shall kiss him at your will. Now go! go! I must awaken him, for there is work to be done."

Now, in the moment, Dracula's line about having work to do seems most likely to be a fib just to get them to go. 'I'm busy, scram,' essentially. But he is very clear that he isn't done with Jonathan yet. (Though the fib about being busy itself could suggest that he might keep Jonathan alive and away from them longer than he himself needed/wanted to, just as a taunt/power play against these vampire ladies. But that's less relevant since he clearly does seem to want him still.) As you point out, Jonathan notes it himself, that he will be able to look to Dracula for safety so long as he serves his purpose. The fact that Dracula comes back within a couple of days to get him to write these specifically dated letters I think suggests to him that he is likely to stand at least a chance of serving that purpose until those dates. At least, it seems that way given...

Jonathan knows Dracula by now. He can probably tell just how much Dracula really enjoys him, and that said enjoyment is in many ways what's keeping him alive. Probably at least to some degree in a sense of enjoying his company, and that is somewhat relevant since he can play on that to stay interesting even when he's not outright useful/needed. But also, importantly, Dracula's particular brand of sadism comes into play here. He loves his mind games and multilayered conversations. He's been making jokes about his own undead/supernatural status basically as long as Jonathan has known him. He enjoys manipulating Jonathan. He enjoys giving him orders and warnings and then watching to see if he will obey or not. Jonathan has disobeyed significantly twice already, by trying to get into all the locked rooms and by sleeping outside of his room. And while he was discovering locked doors early on just while going about his business, he made no move nor seemed to have any particular designs/likelihood to sleep outside his room until Dracula brought it up first. Maybe you could argue that he's been looking more tired/likely to nap about as this nocturnal existence becomes more telling on him, but still there was no real build-up at all to the warning. Which is just one of the many reasons I read it as intentional bait.

So, knowing how Dracula likes to throw out these sorts of hints, I think it reasonable for Jonathan to think he will live that long. It would be just like him to use these letters to subtly tell Jonathan: no one will know where to look for you when you go missing, I could kill you long before with no consequences, but why would I if you play along and please me? ...so play. along.

There's also the fact that Jonathan may know when Dracula plans to leave. Now I certainly don't think he knows his exact itinerary or anything. Probably not even the date he expects to go, and just how closely it lines up with Jonathan's final false letter. But it seems entirely reasonable to me for the topic to have come up during all their work talk. There's a very good chance Jonathan knows that Dracula is planning on leaving for England in a month or two, or even just "around midsummer", etc. And if he does, I think he could add that in with the previous two points I mentioned to reach the conclusion that Dracula intends to keep him around until about when he himself is going to leave. (With the caveat, always, that Jonathan must make himself interesting/nonthreatening enough that he doesn't get bored before then.)

But finally, all those things aside... Jonathan has a tendency to fixate on things. In doing so he can miss other possibilities. And I think the encounter with the vampire ladies served to, somewhat despite himself, dismiss a lot of his fear of immediate danger from Dracula himself. He's aware that he is playing a long game under threat of being thrown the vampire ladies early, and kind of gets blinders to the fact that Dracula himself might physically harm him before then. This really reaches its height near the end of his stay with his seeming obliviousness to the possibility of Dracula biting him even when the guy outright says the "tonight is mine" line. And while I think he does get bitten and just doesn't remember it because that's often what can happen when a vampire entrances/bites you, his not recognizing the possibility beforehand is something that has made several people cry censorship (on a Watsonian level from Jonathan or Mina, and on a Doylist level from Stoker because he knew it wouldn't be accepted). But I think it can be attributed to a combination of Jonathan getting fixated on the ultimate threat (the women) and also on some level recognizing that if Dracula was going to give him to them after he was through, then he'd likely survive whatever Dracula planned for him anyway, so it wasn't as necessary to focus on. (Some of his single-mindedness definitely reads as more calculated at times.)

All this to say, Jonathan may just be overlooking the possibility that Dracula isn't planning to keep him around that long. That or he may be aware of the idea but is dismissing it without mention because it's totally unhelpful to dwell on. He has to approach the situation the same way regardless, fawning to please Dracula while looking for a chance at some other way out. He's stalling for time no matter what, so why not assume he has the most time it seems reasonable to hope for, at least in order to keep himself from completely breaking down and giving up before then. For some semblance of morale if nothing else. He's definitely not going to live past then, but maybe, maybe, until then.

[salamanderthereal]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63511360

ALIENS ARE REAL by yours truly, this will be finished if people want more just lmk

You can read it here too if you want 🤑

+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

“I believe in aliens, because I AM AN ALIEN”

Momo makes a certain face at her phone screen, not like he could see it.

“Yeah no way dude.”

=========================================

In class, a small group of girls are huddled together. Chatting amongst themselves to pass some time.

“Girl i been telling you the new lip liner suuuucks.”

It’s three girls, Miko Muko and Momo.

They mostly keep to themselves but this girlish argument is getting a bit too loud.

“LIAR! it’s the BEST of the entire brand!” momo shouted

“It’s the best I've ever seen in my entire life!” Added muko, mockingly.

They all stared at each other for a few seconds before breaking into laughter.

Finally, after what felt for 2 decades class is released. The group of girls part ways and momo starts idly walking the halls. She spots a nerdy looking boy at the end of her path.

“That's weird. I've never seen him before.”

was.. he wasn’t there when she looked the first time.

right?

Maybe she just missed him the first time.

Bored, she ultimately decided to approach him. The closer she got to him the more curious became. He appeared to be sleeping, but she couldn’t tell with the glare of his round glasses if his eyes were open.

Beside him, there were research books with everything you’d want to know about aliens. “okay so we have an alien conspiracy theorists over here huh..” she muttered quietly.

“I am not a theorist. Aliens exist.”

She hadn’t noticed how close to his face she was until he spoke, nearly making her jump 5 feet in the air.

“HOLY CRAP you scared me dude.” She placed a hand over her heart in an attempt to slow it.

The stranger stood, a little taller than her but roughly the same height. “I apologize miss, however that’s your fault for being in such close proximity.” he pushed his glasses up.

She couldn’t deny, it was her fault.

Not that she was gonna admit that.

“HAHHHH?? MY FAULt?!!! Listen here brain boy, I wasn’t even that close to you. think of it this way.. I was.. making sure you were alive!” even though she herself didn’t believe that stupid excuse.

He inches closer to her, unwilling to be incorrect. “Making sure I was alive huh? Does that include snooping around my belongings?” He looked smug now.

She walks closer

“Maybe I was just looking after em, alien theorist.”

Yet another pathetic attempt to justify her snooping

That seemed to tick him off a bit though.

“Once again, I'm not a theorist because aliens are real!” He seemed very confident for an alien theorist.

It’s kinda funny. No, it’s very funny. It’s so funny she decides to laugh right in his face.

“PFFFTT okay yeah sure and I have super powers.”

Now she shot him a smirk of confidence. Both parties would not back down.

They kept bickering back and forth until they were practically head butting each other. Momo backs away and inhales, then exhales to calm herself. Listen, I don't believe that there are aliens.. but I believe there are ghosts.”

That gave the boy a chuckle, a cackle.

“GAHAHAHHAHAAH no. Do you have any proof ghosts are real? Because i have evidence”

Momo huffed “Having occult magazines isn’t proof those are fake. Have you ever seen an alien? hmmmm?” She was up in his face again.

He started yapping on and on about how aliens are real and everything that was in the books and magazines he read were true. He basically deflected everything she tried to say about ghosts. This was getting nowhere.

“Listen, how bout this: I go look for wherever aliens are s'posed to be and you go look for a ghost. when you run into one, you gotta serve me as a lackey for however long i want.”

She extended her hand towards him.

He hesitated, but put out his hand towards momo.“I agree. However when you discover an alien, you will server me for your entire life span”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“I’m here..” The boy said, obviously trying to hide the fact that he was scared out of his mind.

“Same. By the way, what was your name? I can't keep up with all the nerd insults.” There was a bit of silence on the call before he stated his name. “Ken Takaura.” Ken was about to ask for Momo's name in return but she suddenly screamed.

“AAGGGHHH THERE'S NO WAY THAT'S YOUR NAME!!!” Momo complained, rolling around and squealing on the ground.

“I'm dead serious, that's my full name, ken takakura.”

Another squeal from Momo.

“NO, I refuse to call you that! You’re.. your new name is okarun. That’s that.” She finally got up from the floor and looked around with her flash light. “Hey, did ya run into anything yet, Okaruuun?” She said, testing out the new name for him.

“I haven’t run into anything because ghosts aren’t real. This is kind of a long tunnel though why'd you pick this location specifically?”

Momo thought for a second before answering “Well, heard my granny had beef with a ghost there once. I didn’t see it myself but my old lady told me all about it.”

Okarun was flabbergasted. “Are you serious right now?! You sent me to a blocked off tunnel based on a STORY you heard from your grandmother???”

Momo put the phone up to her face to speak,

“Yeah so what? You sent me here on what, the fact that your conspiracy books said aliens would be here?”

Okarun quickly replied “YES.” instantly.

“Exactly! so I don't wanna hear that.. crap..”

Those are people

“Hey, Okarun.. are there supposed to be people here this late?” She starts backing away from the figures

“No. That's an abandoned hospital. Is there someone there?”

Before he could get a response an old lady started speaking out of nowhere. “Long time no see, sonny boy.”

“GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH” both of them screamed.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Momo attempted to get away but she was captured by the uncanny looking people. they looked human but weirdly misshapen. “OKARUN HELP ME!”

Unfortunately Ken was having troubles of his own. He was being chased down a tunnel by his own grandmother.

“GET BACK HERE BOY! YOU STILL OWE ME YOU KNOW!!”

He ran like his life depended on it.

“NOOOO I DONT KNOW YOU GET AWAY! UUUAAHHHHHEAHAHAHAHAAAA” He tapped into some kind of inhuman speed to exit his grandmother’s territory. “i completely forgot she lived over here”

He remembered that he was on the phone.

The phone.

Where is it?

He immediately ran back into the cave with insane speed. The call had ended. Ken called back her number hoping nothing had happened in the short amount of time he wasn’t paying attention.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

ring ring ring ring

“Someone has bad timing.”

to be continued whaaaa!??!! 😭

Y’all will get art for this hahh

[cee-grice]

For the ask game~

7- What is your deepest joy about writing?

19- Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

39- What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?

hiii thanks for the ask<3

What is your deepest joy about writing?

ohhh this is a tough one. I think, for me, it's all about getting lost in another world. like, I'm happiest when I'm actively thinking about whichever story I'm writing nearly always, so when my real life kinda fades into the background lol. this kinda sounds like escapism I realize, but idk it's not that I want to escape from irl but rather that was excites me most is entirely detached from it? people I'll never meet, places I'll never visit, because they simply don't exist. there's something thrilling to me about that

Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

ok so!! I started writing over ten years ago, when I was 13, and it was the funniest thing ever. I watched one of those parodies of 'Let It Go' which were super popular at the time, 'Let 'em Burn', and I was struck with the Inspiration hammer. I was neck-deep in my 'I hate everyone' phase, so the thought about telling a story about a girl with fire powers who just does not give a shit about anyone appealed to me immensely lol. I did actually finish writing that book, and all my relatives read it. fun times

but yeah, I remember how, at 14, I proclaimed to my mom I'll be a published author. still chasing that dream babey

there were definitely bumps, sure, and it had Everything to do with my literature teachers lol. they got into my head that I had to write Serious literature if I wanted to be a good writer, and fantasy, see, wasn't serious. I tried my very best to write literary stories without understanding what made literary stories good because I didn't like literary stories. that didn't go well and tbh nearly killed my passion for it. anyway fanfiction saved my life<3

I am now actively trying to get published and I hope that's where I go lol

What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?

ok this will sound fake but I uhhh. actually never feel like giving up?? genuinely, once I started writing seriously again a few years ago, not once did I think that I should stop. sure, I have days when I feel like absolute shit, like nothing I write is good, but never do I think about giving up, because that's just not an option. if this book doesn't work out, then I'll try again with the next one. if the next one doesn't work out, I'll try again with the next next one. and so on and so forth. writing is engrained into my identity at this point, and only death will pry it away from me lol

from this ask game

[doyouknowthisbook-poll]

Do you know which book this is from?

Please reblog the polls, but KEEP IT SPOILER-FREE to make people read the excerpt with an open mind 💖📚 Title and author will be revealed after the poll's conclusion.

Note: for this poll, the full alt text is below the read more.

Vin reached out and took the vial, then she downed its contents. She sat, waiting for some magical transformation or surge of power—or even signs of poison. She felt nothing.

How… anticlimactic. She frowned, leaning back in her chair. Out of curiosity, she felt at her Luck.

And felt her eyes widen in shock.

It was there, like a massive golden hoard. A storage of power so incredible that it stretched her understanding. Always before, she had needed to be a scrimp with her Luck, holding it in reserve, using up morsels sparingly. Now she felt like a starving woman invited to a high nobleman's feast. She sat, stunned, regarding the enormous wealth within her.

"So," Kelsier said with a prodding voice. "Try it. Soothe me."

Vin reached out, tentatively touching her newfound mass of Luck. She took a bit, and directed it at Kelsier.

"Good." Kelsier leaned forward eagerly. "But we already knew you could do that. Now the real test, Vin. Can you go the other way? You can dampen my emotions, but can you enflame them too?"

Vin frowned. She'd never used her Luck in such a way; she hadn't even realized that she could. Why was he so eager?

Suspicious, Vin reached for her source of Luck. As she did so, she noticed something interesting. What she had first interpreted as one massive source of power was actually two different sources of power. There were different types of Luck.

Eight. He'd said there were eight of them. But... what do the others do?

Kelsier was still waiting. Vin reached to the second, unfamiliar source of Luck, doing as she'd done before and directing it at him.

Kelsier's smile deepened, and he sat back, glancing at Dockson. "That's it then. She did it."

Dockson shook his head. "To be honest, Kell, I'm not sure what to think. Having one of you around was unsettling enough. Two, though.."

Vin regarded them with narrowed, dubious eyes. "Two what?"

"Even among the nobility, Vin, Allomancy is modestly rare," Kelsier said. "True, it's a hereditary skill, with most of its powerful lines among the high nobility. However, breeding alone doesn't guarantee Allomantic strength.

"Many high noblemen only have access to a single Allomantic skill. People like that-those who can only perform Allomancy in one of its eight basic aspects-are called Mistings. Sometimes these abilities appear in skaa—but only if that skaa has noble blood in his or her near ancestry. You can usually find one Misting in ... oh, about ten thousand mixed-breed skaa. The better, and closer, the noble ancestry, the more likely the skaa is to be a Misting."

"Who were your parents, Vin?" Dockson asked. "Do you remember them?"

"I was raised by my half brother, Reen," Vin said quietly, uncomfortable. These were not things she discussed with others.

"Did he speak of your mother and father?" Dockson asked.

"Occasionally," she admitted. "Reen said that our mother was a whore. Not out of choice, but the underworld.." She trailed off. Her mother had tried to kill her, once, when she was very young. She vaguely remembered the event. Reen had saved her.

"What about your father, Vin?" Dockson asked.

Vin looked up. "He is a high prelan in the Steel Ministry."

Kelsier whistled softly. "Now, that's a slightly ironic breach of duty."

Vin looked down at the table. Finally, she reached over and took a healthy pull on her mug of ale.

Kelsier smiled. "Most ranking obligators in the Ministry are high noblemen. Your father gave you a rare gift in that blood of yours."

"So... I'm one of these Mistings you mentioned?"

Kelsier shook his head. "Actually, no. You see, this is what made you so interesting to us, Vin. Mistings only have access to one Allomantic skill. You just proved you have two. And, if you have access to at least two of the eight, then you have access to the rest as well. That's the way it works—if you're an Allomancer, you either get one skill or you get them all." Kelsier leaned forward. "You, Vin, are what is generally called a Mistborn. Even amongst the nobility, they're incredibly rare. Amongst skaa .. well, let's just say I've only met one other skaa Mistborn in my entire life."

Somehow, the room seemed to grow more quiet. More still. Vin stared at her mug with distracted, uncomfortable eyes. Mistborn. She'd heard the stories, of course. The legends.

Kelsier and Dockson sat quietly, letting her think. Eventually, she spoke. "So ... what does this all mean?"

Kelsier smiled. "It means that you, Vin, are a very special person. You have a power that most high noblemen envy. It is a power that, had you been born an aristocrat, would have made you one of the most deadly and influential people in all of the Final Empire." Kelsier leaned forward again. "But, you weren't born an aristocrat. You're not noble, Vin. You don't have to play by their rules and that makes you even more powerful."

[dreamworldofficial]

Writer's Dream #2 — Midweek Musings & Genre Ghosts

WEDNESDAY. MAY 7th, 2025. (late post. ik)

I didn’t get much writing done today. Nothing new went onto the page, at least. But I did spend time with the story. You ever have those days where you feel the book talking to you even though the cursor stays blinking, empty? That was today.

Today was a very long and interesting day. It's day 2 of 2 of the school week and I already hate it. Instead of drafting, I fell deep into research — not worldbuilding, not lore, not even historical reference points. I was looking for my book's comp. I’ve been thinking a lot about comps for The Arcanum: The Dreamer, and how, exactly, it fits in today’s landscape.

NOW LET'S GET INTO IT...

Lately, I've had Godkiller on my mind. It's a very sharply themed book, written nicely, cool characters and plot, but personally IMO it could go way harder on the religious craziness theme, but I'm still on book one! It blends religion and power and action. It's a fantasy that still feels mythic. That book gives something so good to the reader, I cannot explain it. But it is exactly my type of book. It entertains you so very well. I love it I love it I love it.

That’s the energy I want to give.

HOWEVER, I must add that I do have a serious issue with the current state of Fantasy as a genre. Fantasy, whether it be dark, high, or epic, has been in decline. Not commercially, of course. Fantasy sells millions. But it doesn’t feel like it’s creative anymore. The shelves are full of romantasy now, and there’s nothing wrong with that. People want to escape, to feel swept away by soft enemies and softer kisses. But I miss the books that shook the walls of the world. The ones that made you think and theorize about what's next. It just feels like every fantasy author is writing romance with a fantastical background. It's all just porn now and I sincerely, sincerely hate it with all of my soul. WHY would people run these types of stories up? They're not good! The writing is lackluster and the plots are all the same (like pls wrap up the magical school storyline -- Harry Potter did it ONCE and you can never replicate that). These overused tropes with the independent MC and the morally grey dark-haired man are SO TIRING !!! In fact, it's become so tiring that the original overused tropes (princesses locked away take up their own sword) seem far more interesting and way more original now. That's how bad it is. I'd rather read a story about a Princess who must escape her tower and learn how to fight than read a single chapter of Fourth Wing...

A lot of people may find that opinion bad, but it really doesn't matter. I’m chasing a different star. A lot of real readers have been waiting for a fantasy story as good as GOT or TWoT and I can safely say I am here to deliver.

This story was never meant to follow the trend. It was built for the faithful reader.For the one who wants to go deeper, to lose themselves in prophecy, politics, betrayal, beauty, and something ancient clawing its way back into the light.

Even on days like today I feel closer to that goal.

The Arcanum is slow-burn, high-stakes, far-off fantasy. And I will see it finished. Even if the rest of the world is busy kissing in the rain.

TODAY'S WORD COUNT: 0

💬 Let’s talk: do you enjoy romantasy? What's your opinion on the current state of the book industry? Decline or

🌒 See you Monday for Writer’s Dream #3.

Thank you so much for reading! Apologies for the late post... Tomorrow is our first Canon drop!

– King Hezi

[pluckyredhead]

I am still reading my way through the Fourth World! Last time I talked about all the stuff published in the 70s; now let's talk about the 80s.

Kirby:

New Gods #12: In 1984, DC reprinted Kirby's original New Gods run and threw in an extra issue (not to be confused with Gerry Conway's New Gods #12) so that Kirby could finish the story. This was partially DC being nice and trying to give an aging Kirby money, and partially not because they refused to let him produce the ending he wanted, which was Orion and Darkseid both dying. After a couple scrapped versions, we got this, in which Orion goes down in a hail of laser fire. It's a real bummer, but at least he's extremely homoerotic with his best buddy Lightray first? (Oh, they're getting a whole separate post, just you wait.)

The Hunger Dogs: This "graphic novel" (it's only 64 pages but back then that counted) came out a year later and was the "conclusion" to the Fourth World saga. Once again DC and Kirby butted heads because Kirby really wanted to kill everyone and DC was like "But our IP!!!" In the final version, only supporting characters Himon and Esak die, which is sad but not going to do any damage to DC's bottom line.

It turns out Orion is not dead despite being riddled with holes (there's an intriguing suggestion that he has some kind of healing ability because he possesses the Life Equation, which like everything else in this book is presented with zero context or explanation), which is great because it gives him an opportunity to be homoerotic with Lightray again, although he has also been given an Obligatory Heterosexual Love Interest, Himon's daughter Bekka.

Anyway this book is baffling. Highfather blows up New Genesis (everyone survives) to taunt Darkseid, who is overthrown by the downtrodden masses of Apokalips. There's some shouting about the dangers of technology and maybe some anti-Cold War rhetoric about stockpiling weapons, but it's all so hysterically overblown - Kirby at his most grandiose - that it's nearly impossible to parse beyond "war bad." I do appreciate that Orion is able to break free of his rage and death wish and just...leave Darkseid behind, but the fact that he's emotionally mature enough to do that now comes pretty much out of nowhere. The art is extremely powerful, at least.

My final thought is that Kirby clearly gleefully ignored everything Englehart, Conway, et al. did and I love that for him.

Super Powers: Darkseid fights the Justice League. This was a comic created to sell a toy line and you can really, really tell.

Post-Kirby:

Legends: I've read this before, but it's great. If you like pre-Flashpoint DC, you should definitely read this, which introduces Amanda Waller and the Suicide Squad, sets up the JLI, and brings Wonder Woman into the post-Crisis DCU. Neither Orion nor Scott are present but this (along with the Happyland issue of the original Forever People) really makes the case for why Glorious Godfrey is one of Kirby's best and scariest Fourth World creations. And I will never complain about John Byrne art.

Forever People (1988): Blecch. It's definitely arrogant to read something and think "I know for certain that Jack Kirby, a man I never met who died when I was a child, would have hated this" but like. I'm right. And it's obvious from the very first page.

Basically, at the end of Kirby's series, the FP were marooned on a random, idyllic planet somewhere with no hope of getting home, so they embraced it as their new, hopeful future. This catches up with them years later, with Serifan (the sweet young kid) drooling and raving alone in the woods, Vykin (the only Black character) dead (he gets better), and the rest of them...living in yuppie paradise? Apparently the planet they ended up on was populated (missing the point) with "primitive" people (racist) so they decided to use Mother Box to forcibly "evolve" the people (SO RACIST) and were able to create...modern-day America? Literally why would they even do that, they're from New Genesis. Mark is mayor and married with kids, and Big Bear and Beautiful Dreamer are married to each other with a baby on the way.

Anyway a nebulous villain/evil force called "the Dark" undoes everything which brings Vykin back to life but takes away Mark's wife and kids (she's alive but still "primitive" and the kids were never born) and Bear and Dreamer's unborn child, which means the only female protagonist spends the whole rest of the miniseries clutching her stomach and going "my baby!" I absolutely don't mean to make light of pregnancy loss but this doesn't feel like a story about a three-dimensional woman experiencing pregnancy loss. It feels like a story that reduces a woman to a) whether or not she's having a baby, which is the only thing she cares about and b) the central point on a vague love triangle with Mark and Bear. SIGH.

Meanwhile they all go to Earth for...some reason...and then Mark gets possessed by the Dark and is evil for a while but then they manage to summon Infinity Man and Mark isn't evil anymore. And it's bafflingly revealed that they're all from Earth in the first place from random different historical time periods and Highfather kidnapped them as babies. Okay???

The Forever People are perhaps Kirby's purest and most optimistic characters, and this cynical take on them actively angered me even though I don't actually care about them at all. I've also basically never cared for J. M. DeMatteis's writing outside of JLI, and I don't like Paris Cullins's art, so this book just had absolutely nothing going for it for me.

Cosmic Odyssey: I do not trust Jim Starlin with the New Gods since I know he's going to kill them all off in 2007. This is...fine, I guess? Starlin really does not like Orion, who he has slaughter a bunch of innocent, brainwashed Thanagarians, and also be deeply bigoted against Forager. Everything else is...fine? It's basically all action. The only character who has an emotional arc is John Stewart because this is the story where he fails to save Xanshi because he's being an overconfident moron, but the moral at the end of the comic is like "Get over it already" so...that happens. It's fine.

But man, that Mike Mignola artwork is worth the price of admission alone. That guy's great at drawing.

Mister Miracle Special: The plot of this is that Barda doesn't want Scott to be an escape artist anymore because it's too dangerous, even though a) she's a warrior of Apokalips and b) he's an active Justice League member and she seems fine with that. So okay.

Mister Miracle (1989): Okay, so the basic premise here - Scott and Barda try to adjust to normal life in the suburbs - is good. And it's a spiritual spinoff of JLI, which is of course one of my favorite books of all time. But this book is like...imagine someone screaming "Iiiiiiit's WACKY!" over your shoulder constantly while you're reading. That's what reading Mister Miracle (1989) is like. Highfather wears a tuxedo! Funky Flashman shows up a lot! Scott fights a giant alien noodle! Some of it is actually funny, but most of it is trying so hard to be funny that it's just exhausting.

There are some interesting character moments in there. Scott, Barda, and Orion all get to call Highfather out. Orion mentions wishing he was closer to Scott. There are hints at Scott's depression and suicidal tendencies, which I find really fascinating. But all of it is always immediately overshadowed by ZANINESS.

Anyway, I think we as DC fans deserve a do-over with a new Scott and Barda book about their lovingly domestic (kinky) life together on Earth that is funny but not desperately mugging for laughs in every panel. And I think it should be set in Vegas where Scott has a residency. Call me, DC!

New Gods (1989): This book was mostly written by Mark Evanier (a couple issues were by Starlin), who was one of Kirby's assistants back when he was originally creating the Fourth World, so you might think it would feel the closest to a continuation of Kirby's vision. Instead, I am making it Exhibit A in my argument for why a character should never be assigned to a writer who obviously fucking hates their guts.

I mean, I don't know that Evanier hates Orion. But boy does he write him like he does. Starlin's Orion (who again, we get a couple issues of here) is a monster, but Evanier's Orion is just an incompetent idiot, forever slamming himself against the brick wall of his inevitably becoming his father. Almost every single issue has at least one character, often multiple characters, bemoaning Orion's absolutely unproductive violence and inability to learn or comprehend basic concepts that should not be at all new to him after living most of his life on New Genesis (i.e. justice, mercy, compassion). Even fucking Kalibak is like "Wow, you're a useless idiot." Kalibak! The king of useless idiots!

The comic is so into hating on Orion that it hates on him when he's not actually doing anything bad; at one point he walks into a nuclear reaction that's melting down in a desperate attempt to stop it before it kills everyone, and Big Bear is like "Wow, he's just like his father." REALLY, BIG BEAR? Show me the comic where Darkseid risks his life to save thousands of strangers. I'll wait.

This series also features:

a hawkish, bloodthirsty New Genesis military leader who keeps trying to overthrow Highfather, which both seems to undercut the whole point of New Genesis as well as Orion's uniqueness as The Angry Guy;

an Earth woman with the worst gaydar in the universe repeatedly failing to fuck an increasingly uncomfortable Lightray;

but then Lightray falls in love with a dead woman he never met?;

also Orion gets a crush on a bug lady and learns to stop being racist against bugs (she's not impressed and good for her)

and Lightray and Orion parade around Earth in the WORST fashions of the late 80s/early 90s, which is about all this book has going for it.

Anyway it was bad and I'm glad I'm done with it. Next up: the 90s!

[altschmerzes]

THE 13 BOOKS I READ IN 2023 IN ORDER FROM BEST TO WORST + THE PROTAGONIST'S SUPERLATIVE. PART 2.

6. A Wrinkle In Time by Madeleine L'Engel. a timeless classic that i love love love. meg is such a fun protagonist and i really enjoyed experiencing this as an adult again. the whole like… helpless devastated rage she feels when she realizes that adults can't just. fix everything? that sequence will always rattle me around like a mason jar fulla beans. she's such a like… man. the way the narrative was like. this isn't fair. it isn't right. it's happening anyway. i'm so sorry, but it's happening anyway. that really got me.

Protagonist: Meg Murry. Most Likely To Have A Profound And Life Altering Impact On Adolescent Weird Girls Who Read Her Book.

7. Whiskeyjack by Victoria Goddard. third book in the series, slightly less fun than the others but only very slightly. i cannot emphasize enough how difficult it was to rank like, 2-8. had some VERY fun stuff with like…. things you learn that then go back and recontextualize everything else. ended on a scene that made me fucking sob which is always a plus in my book. themes of FAMILY and LOYALTY and SACRIFICE. my fucking beloved. yes please. the pov character continues to have a horrible little time. also love that.

Protagonist: (again, series has dual protagonists, so switching back) Peregrine Dart. Most Likely To Be The Unwitting Conduit Of The Deus Ex Machina. Deus Ex Dart.

8. One By One by Ruth Ware. just a really good classic mystery thriller. i love a mystery thriller, and ruth ware seems to always hit for me. managed to pull off a pov switch between two pov characters one of whom had a massive, MASSIVE secret without it seeming completely nonsensical once revealed or relying on the pov character talking in deliberately obtuse or evasive ways that would be really tiresome and insulting if carried through. there was a set of tech bro startup characters that were obnoxious and infuriating in exactly the way that those people are in real life, so points for that for SURE even though i did wanna throttle them.

Protagonist: Erin (Lastname). Most Deserving Of A Tropical Vacation.

9. The Ritual by Adam Nevill. this is the most brutal book i have read in recent memory. possibly at all. this guy gets put all the way through the wringer physically and emotionally and it is visceral in the way it is described. the protagonist was a profoundly unpleasant person a lot of the time but this was deliberate and really engaging, honestly. there were some moments of stark self-reflection from him about the ways in which he did not like who he was and the things he did, and when he recognized how like. unfair and cruel he was being to the others in his head. wasn't as good as the movie, imo, but the changes that they made between the book and film made total sense given the sheer level of interiority in the book. and boy howdy how much interiority. whoof.

Protagonist: Luke. Most Surprising Survival.

10. I Am Not Who You Think I Am by Eric Rickstad. i think the most damning thing that can be said about this book is that i literally can't remember almost anything about it. it was compelling in some ways and there were a few very specific moments that i was really gripped by but most of it was like. a really flat letdown. it was interesting enough as a mystery that i finished it but i don't even really remember why, now.

Protagonist: Wayland Maynard. Most Forgettable Guy.

11. The Darkest Minds by Alexandra Bracken. just. ugh. dystopia ya in a bad way. too complicated and not well established. dumbass colour coding system. it could've been so fun, i love traumatized teenagers with powers and an evil government in all sincerity but this just did not do anything good with it. it looked like it COULD have but it DIDN'T. the love interest character was a DICK. there was some weird gender takes that popped out of nowhere. jump-scared by gender. did enjoy watching the movie though because it was fucking insane and gave me a scene where the protagonist and the love interest shared a passionate embrace over what fully appeared to be the dead body of the love interest's theoretical best friend. amazing. no notes.

Protagonist: Ruby Daly. Most Likely To One Day Decide She's Tired Of Being Nice And She Does Want To Go Apeshit Actually.

12. Reputation by Sarah Vaughan. [VIDEODROME PRESCREEN AUDIENCE REVIEW WHERE THEY JSUT WROTE 'SUCKED' AND GOT SO UPSET ABOUT HOW BAD IT WAS THEY MARKED THE WRONG GENDER] this book was BAD. the writing was bad. the characters were bad and not on purpose. the politics of the book were uh. whoof. what if white girlboss feminism was a novel. points for some of the hardest i've laughed tho at Nice Dick Mike the journalist that the protagonist cannot respect after she sleeps with him and Lady Cop With Bangs, the traitor to womanhood.

Protagonist: Emma Webster. Most Likely To Submit An Extremely Long Post To Reddit Dot Com Slash Am I The Asshole That Leaves Out A Lot Of Like, Extremely Critical Information That When Uncovered All Makes Her Look Really Fucking Bad While She Seems To Still Think It Was Entirely Irrelevant And Honestly Unfair To Even Consider. Gd Forbid Women Do Anything.

UNCATEGORIZED: 21st Century Jocks: Sporting Men And Contemporary Heterosexuality by Eric Anderson. there was simply no way to rank this among the others, it was too completely different. they were all very different books but this was just. entirely different. had a wonderful time with it though!! gave me a lot to think about as someone who thinks a lot

thank you for joining me on this journey. i loved reading books again this year and would wholeheartedly recommend anything ranked 1-9 on this list, provided you like the genre/vibe.

[anarchicvampire]

III. Harboring a Fugitive

We start walking towards my flat. The cops seem to have left. When we get there, I give him a glass of water. Then I look for a clean towel and a change of clothes and give it to him.

"Thanks," he says. 

"You're welcome. You can use the shampoo and body wash that are in the shower, if you need them." 

"All right, thanks." He smiles at me, blindingly. I sigh once he's shut the door. I'm really deep in shit, aren't I?

When he gets out of the shower, his hair is wet; his (my) clothes are clinging to his damp body; and his shirt is riding up (it's too small on him), revealing a pale sliver of bare skin. If I ran my fingers across it, it would probably be soft and delicate. I avert my gaze, my cheeks warm. 

"Do you want something to eat?"

"Yeah, I could use some food."

"What do you want? Some eggs?"

"Whatever is most convenient," he says sweetly. Oh, what a cutie.

I make him some eggs with bacon. He eats it hurriedly. "Do you want some yogurt?"

"Yes, please." What an educated man. "So what should I call you?" He asks as I walk towards the fridge.

"Tiago." I don't think giving him my real name is a good idea for now. "You?" I reply as I grab some yogurt and blueberries to put on top.

"You can call me Giovanni."

"Hm. Italian, huh?"

"Yeah. What about you?"

"I'm latino," I respond. 

I've got the day off because I'm a waiter at a sushi restaurant, and on Mondays it closes. I tell him, "I'm going to keep reading this book I've started," as I sit down on the couch. 

He says, "Ok, I'll work on my laptop, if you don't mind."

After a few hours of this, it's time to cook lunch. I make some for both of us. After eating, I work on a painting I want to finish. A couple hours later, the sun has come down.

Giovanni stands up, "Well, it's dark now. It should be safer, I'll head out. Thanks for your help."

"Will you go back to your car?"

"Yeah. Don't worry about it, I can take care of myself."

"Don't you have anyone you can stay with?"

"It's too risky... I haven't talked to anyone for months, in preparation for this, so that they couldn't see what I would do. Now, if I go back... they'll know for sure it was me," he explains as he picks his stuff up.

"Don't you think you'll get caught?"

"I never thought I'd make it this far, anyway. I was ready to lose it all. I'm ready for whatever the future holds for me."

"But you haven't lost it all yet. Don't you value your freedom?"

He shrugs, "A statement has value as well."

"You can send a statement by remaining at large. Getting away with murdering CEO's, that's a powerful message to send to citizens. You can be the spark of a revolution. It's bigger than you now." 

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying you can crash at my place, tonight. At least until you've got somewhere to go."

"You're sure? You're going to house a wanted criminal you've just met?"

I think for a beat. "I'll take my chance." His eyes glint.

"You've got a big heart, Tiago." Hm, though it isn't my real name, it sounds good when he says it. 

"All right, I'll make dinner."

"Nah, uh. After you cooking lunch? Dinner's on me." I'm impressed.

"All right, Italian boy. Show me what you got."

Turns out, his cooking is delicious. He's made veggie lasagna, which I devour in minutes, before going for seconds. This man can cook. I am a lost cause.

When it's time for bed, I tell him, "You can stay on the couch, it's a pull out." I wince at my choice of words. "I'll bring you some bedclothes and a pillow."

"Thanks."

When I get back and give them to him, he says "Thank you. I mean it. Not just by helping me hide. Thanks for encouraging me. I haven't been in the best headspace recently."

"Don't worry about it. Thank you for your service," I wink at him.

"Good night."

"Thanks. Good night," he smiles sweetly. 

The next day, my alarm goes off and wakes me up from a curious dream in which I'm having sex with a man. It's weird, because I'm usually into women. But I'm unbothered, since I've always known I liked men, too. I think about the most probable reason why I dreamt that... I shake my head. He's a fugitive and a murderer, not the most convenient person to fall in love with. Sure, he may have had his reasons, which is why I'm helping him, but going farther than that would be self-sabotage. 

After showering and changing, I head to the kitchen. He's still asleep. Lucky him, I think. I start making breakfast, baleadas, and he wakes up. While we eat, he says, "I'd never tried this before, it's so good."

"I know right? I lit get hard every time I eat baleadas." 

I worry my joke went too far, but then he says, "The fact you can cook this well is what has me hard." We both laugh. 

"Latin Americans and Italians united over great food," I extend my hand to him. He takes it (his skin is soft) and my brain short-circuits.

As I'm about to leave for work, I tell him, "There's food in the fridge. You can cook and eat lunch. I'll be back at around five pm."

I'm a bit worried about leaving a stranger alone at my house, but I have a security camera, so I can check in every now and then, as long as I'm subtle. I get to the restaurant at which I'm a waiter. They don't know I'm hiding America's most wanted, I think while I'm mopping the floor. I then remember a meme of his I'd seen over the weekend saying, "America's most wanted (carnally)," and laugh to myself. He is pretty handsome.

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

Things that come in my head as I play through Diasomnia's chapter (chp 38-55):

[Potential spoilers below darlings, proceed with caution!]

Am I ready for this? Hell no. Do I know I will regret everything? Yes. Am I still gonna try to finish everything in one day? Yep. Let's go!

Ortho??? Calling from RSA??? Is this Idia's dream? Malleus?! Cute to see him taking care of Drago but like the tiny details showing that its actually a dream? And Idia's catching on! Slowly but hey, progress is still progress! It's also nice to see how things could be different if og Ortho was still around.

Where are we? Why are there terrifying ghost like things on the windows? Is this Ramshackle dorm before it became, well, Ramshackle as we know it now? I am so confused now lol– Wait we're in Mickey's room?! How'd we get on the other side of the mirror? We're all having an out of body experience... I dunno how to feel about that tbh.

Silver! My baby's here! And we get to see his UM!

Have I ever told you guys how much I like Malleus' humming? Cause I like it very much. But anyways... we're in cyberspace now...? Oh Ortho! Ortho's awake! Poor baby's trying so hard to wake up his brother.

It's kinda scary seeing how powerful Malleus is. Like, to the point where he can force even Styx issued gear into shut down mode, he's seriously overpowered. Can't wait to see Idia continue the trend and become the hero in this tale, but there's a lot of heart ache we need to go through before we reach that point so, best of luck to all our poor hearts.

I wonder if there's any particular significance to the fact that the time is stopped at 9:18.

So we finally meet Idia's dad, huh? His helmet reminds me of Hades' Helm of Darkness. And we meet his mom as well. A lot of technical stuff and lore drop that went a bit over my head, but it's fine! We'll be fine!

Seems like eccentricity is the middle name of the Shroud family. Then again all geniuses are a bit eccentric. Poor idia, his mom definitely snooped through password protected folders. I would riot if my parents ever snooped through my laptop, so I can't wait for him to wake up and proceed to lose his shit over it lmao

Ortho's Cerberos gear and the two support droids are so cool! The little family moment is cute, but I hope this isn't a death flag for poor Ortho because I've seen too much of that trope– Now we're back with the Prefect! Ngl, Silver's kinda hot when he orders us around.

Dreams are a very tricky subject, so I don't blame Silver for not knowing much about how his UM works. That being said, I'm ready to learn a little more about Sebek, now that we're in his dream. I'm not his biggest fan atm, but... let's see. I'm hoping my perspective on him changes because he seems like a fun character to explore.

.... Something about the way he calls us human just pisses me off lmao. But we will be keeping an open mind. I will come to love you Sebek (yes it is a threat)

I feel terrible for Silver. Imagine looking at people you've known your entire life, two of them people you look up to and one you've trained alongside, and seeing strangers. Strangers who live in a fairy tale, who want you to join them and live happily ever after, sacrificing your freedom and responsibilities of the real world for an ideal ending. Who wouldn't want to take that chance? Making the choice to go against them, for their own good, is the most difficult thing to do in this situation. Raising your weapon against the one you trained your whole life to protect, fighting against someone who was once your comrade-in-arms.... it's terribly heartbreaking. But, hey, at least we got Sebek to wake up.

EHY IS MALLEUS SO FUCKING OP DIFVDHDGDJSVDVDJD B DHFDUSJDHS?!?!?!?!?

We... we're in Lilia's dream now.... brb, gotta get some tissues and get ready for emotional damage–

It's nice to see Silver taking the lead and being the dependable one. Also, General Lilia!! Been waiting for him since I got spoilers back when I was stuck in Ignihyde's book. I love how his hair transitions from being long and having red streaks to short and cute with pink streaks. Long hair is often associated, at least in my culture, with maturity and a sense of responsibility, while short hair is more fun and child-like. Similarly, red is an intense colour, while pink could technically be seen as a softer, gentler cousin to it. It shows Lilia's change from a warrior to caregiver and I think it's really neat. I just wish he could have seen him in a more adult-like form in the past.

[paradox-time]

@basil-does-arttt

Heeeeyyyy, thanks for giving me an excuse to ranttt <3<3

Ok so, I saw a post of yours that was something like "what about gortash do fans find appealing?”

I'm going to try my best to answer why some of us are fans of this Absolute Shitbag (pun intended)

Some of my credentials, I've played the game for over 700 hours over about 4 months, seen, made, and interacted with tons of fan content and talked about it at length with other fans and unwilling friends. I make it my job to know every single scrap of Lore the game has to offer, going to stupid lengths to read all the books and letters hidden throughout the game, I also savescum the hell out of dialog options so I don't miss any exposition. I've played a tav twice and a dark urge 8 times, plus started but never finished other origin playthroughs.

Safe to say. I am deranged. (Yay hyperfixation)

Anyway, Enver Gortash is one of my favorite villains in fiction. This does not, in any way, mean that I admire or excuse any of his actions. I don't find him handsome or charming. He isn't redeemable or even likable in any capacity as a person.

The entire main theme of the game is whether or not the characters perpetuate the cycle of abuse or break it. You see that with Astarion, he either kills Cazador and forges his own future as a freed spawn, or ascends, and becomes someone who is just as bad and abusive as Cazador. You see it with Shadowheart in whether she chooses to live a life under Shar's cruel influence, or leave her past behind her and embrace Selúne. You see it in Gale and whether he ascends to Godhhood and is nothing like the kind and inquisitive person he once was, or leaves Mystra and his life as an archmage behind to live a life of quiet comfort where he can follow his passions and teach people like he should have been taught instead of isolating students like how mystra and elminster isolated him.

Many more examples blah blah blah

Ok, a lot of people (wrongly) try to justify and apologize for everything gortash has done by pointing at his backstory like a gotcha thing.

Gortash's parents sold him into slavery when he was very young to pay off their debts. The person who then raised and owned Gortash was none other than the ultimate slimeball, Raphael the Cambion. In this environment, Gortash grew incredibly bitter and started to worship Bane, the god of Tyranny, Dictatorship, Strife, and Subjugation. This was because he believed he was owed power over others for everything he was put through. He then becomes a slave trader, selling Karlach to Zariel is one notable example, a war profiteer and arms dealer, he keeps the families of his prisoners held hostage in an underwater prison that was rigged to explode and then subsequently flood if any of his factory staff tried to escape. His workers were also made to wear fucking bomb collars. He sews bigotry in the general public by not letting refugees in the city and controlling the media (newspapers and posters). His entire goal and religious doctrine is founded on the belief that it is his divine right to control and oppress people.

It has been so freaking long since I've found a piece of media that had an actual villain, but still kept said villain's story and motives interesting! Lots of modern media really tries to go the formulaic propaganda villain route. “Character A wants to do the right thing. Character B wants to do the right thing but does it in a BAD and DiSrUpTiVe way!! Gasp!! Villain!” I think it's supposed to endorse and enforce moral superiority of centrists, yuck. but that's a Different Tangent™.

I feel like there are a lot of fans that think that in order to like a character, they have to be morally palatable and pg or whatever. I see lots of fans that can't fathom liking a character that is genuinely evil and a bad person. So they just. Ignore the entire central point of the character.

Gortash sucks ass. If I met him in real life I would beat his ass into the dirt. But he isn't real. And fiction, especially interactive fiction, is an amazing way to explore darker themes in a safe and controlled environment. This is amazing for dozens of reasons, including exploration of catharsis.

I like Gortash because he amazing as a Villain. His story is super connected to the themes of the game. His acting is done with so much care and talent from the production team at Larian.

Fans who fawn over and woobify him. Umm. Do better. Get media literate please. No hate, love all the gortash content, especially in relation to the Dark Urge's story line. But please stop pretending he isn't as bad as he is. That's one of the main things I find compelling about him as a story device in the first place. You can like evil characters because they're fake.

Ummm conclusion…. Yeah. I like Gortash because he makes a fun story.

[gaslightgallows]

September 2023 Writing Round-Up

I just checked my tags, and I haven't done one of these since… three years ago. Exactly three years ago yesterday (9/29/20), to be precise. Which was pretty much when my mental health and my personal life started to crumble in earnest, and it took my desire to write for public consumption along with it.

Most of what I did for the rest of 2020/2021 were either struggling to finish works in progress (and largely failing) or archiving stuff from my LJ days. I didn't post anything in 2022. I was still writing (a lot) but it was either for Patreon (…fuck, right, I have a Patreon) or it was personal, not meant to be shared.

And then Good Omens came back and ended up being really fucking relevant to my life, and @meldanya44 was there urging me to get back into writing for other people besides her. I think it was a good idea, over all. ♥

So… yeah. Thanks, Good Omens fandom, for reminding me that writing is meant to be shared, and that I am a prompt-based lifeform. (I'll be putting up a new prompt list tomorrow, if anyone wants an artisanally crafted bespoke ficlet of their very own.)

Anyway, here's what I did in September:

Authorial Intent (G, one-shot): Michael’s plan to erase Aziraphale from the Book of Life has certain… flaws. A revision of the final season of S2 Ep6, where the Metatron does not make an appearance. (Actually posted at the end of August but this is my list and it counts. Written very shortly after I finished S2 for the first time. Effervescing with joy.)

Put Out the Stars (T, currently a one-shot, planning to continue): Crowley stole the photo of himself and Aziraphale from the shop a long time ago. (Inspired by one of @fellshish's asks. Angst angst angst… with more to come!)

An Invisible Wound (T, one-shot): “I almost killed you tonight.” “I almost got you killed tonight.” Their first kiss, soft and futile, is in 1941. (Bittersweet canon-compliant 1941 truthers unite.)

After the Rain (T, one-shot; for @meldanya44): The Second Coming has come and gone, and Crowley was calling him ‘angel’ again. (Wonderful quiet post-series fluff.)

Like Petals in a Storm (M, currently a standalone but working on a sequel; for @meldanya44): Between the discorporation and the almost-execution, Aziraphale’s having a bit of trouble keeping body and soul together. (My reputation-mandated 'one partner helps another bathe' fic.)

The Taste of Salt (G, one-shot; for @iamhisgloriouspurpose): The lingering taste of ox ribs are bitter and rich in Aziraphale's mouth, and he isn't sure what he believes anymore. (Continues the 'I'm not taking you to Hell, angel' scene in the Ep2 minisode. Nice and angsty. No one seems to like this one and I'm not sure why.)

Pipe Dream (G, one-shot; for @unwholesome-gay): All Aziraphale has ever wanted is to give heaven back to Crowley. (Domestic fluff about Aziraphale buying the South Downs cottage for Crowley. Fun fact: I struggled to write this and finally posted it in dismay and tried to forget about it. And then my inbox exploded with HEARTS, so I guess it wasn't as bad as I thought.)

The Patience of Angels, Chs 1-4 (M, multi-chapter WIP): An old enemy is on the hunt for the demon known as Crowley, and it will take all the powers of one very protective angel to save him. But in keeping Crowley safe, Aziraphale will uncover more of the terrible truths of Heaven than he ever wanted to know. (The longfic I first conceived of in 2019 and then never got around to finishing enough to post, and am now trying to revise the HELL out of in real-time because the original version doesn't work anymore. I love this fic with a burning passion and hope it finds an audience someday… which it probably will if I can update it, y'know, more often than once a month…)

Fics Posted: 8 Word Count: 28,182

I'm never going to be as prolific as I was when I was in the MCU fandom and had a much less-hectic job, but I'd call that a decent comeback. Thanks, everyone. ♥