#he can be an antagonist by all means if he turns out to be one thats fine

[zirconpetals]

Sorry for reblogging an old post like this, especially if your opinions on the matter have changed, but this is really helping me put things together in my head.

(I was gonna put it in the tags but realized I kinda went off. Also sorry if you get this notification twice, Tumblr's been glitching out on me & I accidentally first sent it before I finished writing)

The fact that there's a precedent at all is still bad, but if you read fics or the way people discuss it, you'd think he's dropping this kind of language every two sentences. But as I was thinking about that scene, I was like. But it doesn't usually happen, does it? It only happened like twice.

(Tbh completely forgot about the Gamesters one, but the other two scenes are so iconic, which is probably what is colouring people's perception here, & why the hobgoblin thing is so widespread. Or maybe it's because of AOS, but then — why did they put it in AOS. In 2009??)

If anything, McCoy compares him to a computer the most, & this is also something Kirk uses to bait Spock with in "This side of paradise". So it might be worse than it seems.

Additionally, McCoy only brings up the colour of Spock's blood in the show in situations when they're specifically talking about blood. (Which happens a lot because he's a doctor). It's often in a "I wish it was the same as everyone else's & my job was easier" kinda manner, which is still. Bad. Especially if you're a doctor & Spock had probably been around sentiments like that all his life since it also has "human elements" in it. What I mean to say is he's not going around randomly calling him "green-blooded loser" or anything like that.

And sometimes it's hard to know what the writers are trying to convey and if they understand how it comes off. Kirk and McCoy can compare Spock to the Devil and it's all in good fun between friends, but when an antagonist of the episode does that it's bad and racist? Was Spock's reaction even meant to be about the ear comment or was it just because McCoy got all up in his face?

There's also the thing that there's a precedent where Spock actually somewhat reacts "positively" when the differences between him & other humans, ("And as for my anatomy being different from yours, I am delighted."— "Naked Time", & what's more, after the first time McCoy makes a comment about his blood iirc) but that doesn't mean he couldn't have gotten fed up with it or that it wasn't a defensive technique to begin with.

& I know Spock is the only Vulcan on the Enterprise and when you're isolated & not sure if you would get support it's harder to come forward with the problem, especially if you're trying to project an image of a Vulcan unswayed by his emotions & when everyone (& especially McCoy) is just waiting for you to show an emotion.

But Spock also doesn't have a problem with commenting on how savage & backwards human culture is, you'd expect him to be hitting McCoy (& everyone else) with how boorish it is to obsess over physical differences between species outside of immediate medical contexts. Of course, speaking about humanity in general might be one thing, but speaking about personal problems leaves you vulnerable, but on the other hand, he is able to bring up when he's been insulted in other contexts.

Ngl I also think it's kind of in a bad taste to make it the moment that makes McCoy realize that Spock's not being himself. The idea that Spock would only be unhappy with someone for a derogatory comment if he's not in his right mind and then McCoy is validated for it? It seems like Spock has a problem that's to be taken seriously, but then it's in the episode where Spock eats meat and sleeps with a girl he barely knows, so how seriously can it be taken? I don't know how I feel on this.

I'm sorry I don't have any kind of conclusion here. I've just been unsure how to interpret this scene & been kind of turning it around in my head.

When I was writing the previous post, I had a random thought, so I want to offer a different perspective I just thought of lol

MCCOY: You listen to me, you pointed-eared Vulcan. SPOCK: I don't like that. I don't think I ever did, and now I'm sure.

imho people are too quick to jump to the interpretation that Spock has always hated McCoy because of this line. That Spock was just silently suffering and never said that McCoy's words bothered him.

Which is literally so ??? to me because Spock will express his dissatisfaction.

SPOCK: Frankly, I was rather dismayed by your use of the term half-breed, Captain. You must admit, it is an unsophisticated expression. (What Are Little Girls Made Of?) SPOCK: Captain, I hardly believe that insults are within your prerogative as my commanding officer. (The City on the Edge of Forever) SPOCK: Don't be insulting, Doctor. (The Trouble with Tribbles)

are just a few of them. Spock typically says "don't be insulting" when Kirk or McCoy suggest he has feelings (or when Kirk compares him to a human), but as you can see from What Are Little Girls Made Of? he literally brought a thing that bothered him with Kirk up. Why would you think he just silently suffered McCoy's words? Why would he say he was bothered to his commanding officer and not his subordinate? That's not Spock.

Plus, when people use the line from All Our Yesterdays to "prove that Spock hates McCoy", why is

MCCOY: I wonder where Jim is. SPOCK: Who knows. We can only hope that he is well, wherever he is.

that precedes the "pointed-eared" comment ignored? Why is it ignored that Spock literally doesn't care about what happened to Kirk? That he just hopes that he is well. Why do you think McCoy got angry at Spock in this scene? Because Spock didn't show any kind of worry about Kirk. He just accepted that they couldn't go back. He gave up.

Now, when I got that out of my chest, this is the third time in 79 episodes (minus those McCoy didn't appear in), that McCoy used "pointed-eared" with Spock. The third time. One, in Bread and Circuses during an emotionally charged conversation, two, in The Gamesters of Triskelion, where Spock was like do you wanna mutiny (when Kirk, Chekov, and Uhura disappeared).

Why would Spock's reaction be at McCoy, especially? He doesn't say "I don't like you saying it, Doctor", he says he doesn't like the words. People - Kirk, Uhura, McCoy, random people - kept talking about his ears throughout the series, sometimes as a joke, sometimes as an insult, comparing him to Devil even (Uhura and Kirk both btw) or Midsummer Night's Dream's Puck. When Kirk tried to make him angry in This Side of Paradise, he uses "you're an overgrown jackrabbit, an elf" - both typical for pointed ears.

Humans always pointed out his ears. Always.

And now, when he's not in control, he's realizing that maybe he never liked humans talking about his ears. Not just McCoy. Everyone ever.

And it makes more sense to me that Spock's statement is in general rather than aimed at McCoy only.

yeah, anyway.

[randomnameless]

Why do the FEH devs insist on ignoring Nabatean lore so much?

I recently had a surprisingly cordial discussion on redshit with someone about the "nabateans = colonisers" take, and one of the main points raised was that the game was purposedly foggy around Nabateans/Sothis/their story because it would obviously favor a certain narrative (and thus make another narrative look, uh, not that marketable anymore).

To be honest, we still ended up with a product that had a lead go "this race and its blood* is the reason why the world sucks" and yet that lead is still marketable enough to have raunchy cipher cards and 5 FEH alts, so I actually wonder if, while pissing on that lore had that purpose, it was ultimately pointless since Supreme Leader can still sell goodies despite her incarnation in FE16.

And not only Supreme Leader - but the entirety of WC where we basically have 70% of the cast crying/complaining about their "mixed blood" or lack of and basically adding their 10 cents to the "this race and its blood is the reason why the world sucks".

I mean, can you imagine Sylvain selling any goodies and alts if Flayn replied to his "wah wah people only are kind to me and want to fuck me because I have Nabatean blood :(" by some uncharacteristic "good for you, I have to hide my ears, had to dye my hair, have to lie about my family because if the truth is found out about my identity, I will be hunted and vivisected like an animal and harvested for parts by people who call my kin abominations - just like what happens in the game where the same people who call my kin "abominations" ally with a classmate who calls me a creature and pretends I am incapable of human feelings based on my race".

FE Fodlan's main selling point is its cast of students, for various reasons, but even if I tried to kid myself, Nopes and FEH made it clears : students are the main selling point.

If you spare more time and attention to the Nabatean plot/lore, the students either grow from "likeable" to "despicable" or worse, you won't gaf about them because yeah sure, Hilda might be upset because people expect things from her due to her crust, but it would feel like a "peanut" compared to Seteth's irrational (granted, it's not so irrational since GW exists) fear that Flayn's newest friends would dissect her if they learnt she was a Nabatean, and being conflicted by finally letting her have human friends and form bonds she crave, or protect her due to the trauma from the genocide of their species.

Don't get me wrong, I love peanuts, I mean, not everyone can have a tragik of loaded backstory!

And yet, given how this verse's DNA is "can you fight against the red emperor who uwus about you", they had to add copious amounts of Earl Grey to their games so there's no clear-cut factions :

The "Your alien blood and its influence on the world corrupted it, so I want to reform it under my command" vs "I don't want to die and you oppose me due to my race and side with the people who genocided my kin"

is turned to :

"Your alien blood Crests and its your church's influence on the world corrupted it, so I want to reform it under my command"

"I don't want to die and you oppose me due to my race and side with the people who genocided my kin"

Sprinkle with the cast's hammering here and there that the "reforms" might be needed - but never develop on what they are - and add a few baseless and groundless takes as a toping (basically everything Claude says about tolerance and the general "isolationism/foreign policy" stuff) and you get FE Fodlan where the Red Emperor's war isn't seen as the catastrophe it is in the other entries from the series!

Now, for FEH...

FWIW, the F!F!Billy's trailer had them try to explain that Sothis was a bit pissed about her slaughtered/massacred children when Nopes never gave any reason about why she was pissed - maybe on Billy's behalf bcs Jerry's dead, but come on, she would indeed deserve the medal of the worst parent in the franchise if that was the case, since Billy can murder her daughter without Sothis taking over ! - but given that they cannot write/go against the source game those characters are from.

They tried a bit, with B!Supreme Leader and Hegemongard's FB, but then it stopped (because she had no "new unit" released since then lol) and I can understand why : Hegemongard came out before the Supreme Emblem, and Hegemongard hates dragons who are seen/perceived as gods by some of their human followers. Come FE17, and now Supreme Emblem accepts Alear because they are "one of the good ones". We can come up with HCs and details and talk about what are emblems or if Hegemongard's views were only hers at the end of AM all day long... But imo, Doylist wise, it still feels it's a retcon because the devs from the main games tried to scrap and remove the most "controversial" traits she had.

For the other characters... Well, you see what Marianne is in FEH (but even in her base games), she's one of the few characters who reacts - in a way - to the partial history about relics and demonic beasts and all... only to give sad uwus to Maurice.

FE16 (and Nopes) refused to have any "student" character react to the Nabatean lore/reveal, about what are relics and all. There are no lines, Claude shared some knowledge in the explore section of VW's last chapter, but we don't have anyone muse or think or even talk about what are relics, what are crests, and what kind of fuckery their ancestors or the ancient humans of Fodlan did.

With that in mind, FEH can't do much : either they write Marianne in a retcon-y way like what happened for Hegemongard (and they're not afraid to piss on characterisation, look at Lyon!), or they flanderise her "character" and develop her around 3 lines she had in the game in her paralogue, and continue to give sad uwus about Momo when he was at best a guy who slaughtered and murdered so much that he abused the Nabatean turned into a relic to the point where he turned in a demonic beast even if he had a matching crest, or at worst, had been part of Nemesis's piñata party in Zanado and was something of a genocider.

Tldr :

Why FE Fodlan never gaf about Nabateans : earl grey + the marketable cast has to stay marketable and you can't sell peanuts at the same price you'd sell swordfish

Why FEH dgaf about Nabatean lore : they can't afford to retcon characters + they have to sell peanut alts with the same seasoning they had in their base game.

For what it's worth though, I think FEH is more daring than the base game(s) given how they gave more lines and screentime to Rhea - through her different alts - than GW. And they even designed her Halloween!alt's lines to piss on some of Claude's assertions, while the various FB involving members of the church also - indirectly - reply to some accusations thrown their way in FE16 when, FE16, never gave them an opportunity or lines to explain that those takes were full of dung.

*"but random, maybe she doesn't know that the crests she often decries is "dragon blood"!"

It's highly debatable, especially given what she and Hubert throw to Billy in CF - but even if she doesn't, Doylist wise we still have a character who, knowingly or not, says "this race and its blood* is the reason why the world sucks" and who is never called out on her prejudice. That's more of an issue regarding the general writing though, she has to be a red emperor and took pages from Ashnard's book, and yet, the player must still feel bad and want to romance her, so her mindest/goal cannot be looked at too closely, because, I guess, even the devs thought it would be difficult to romance her (thus sell goodies!) if more light was shed on the "blood from this race corrupts our people" schtick -> which in turn would also make characters whose backstory and gimmick rely on "crying about crests" be way less likeable, thus marketable and able to sell goodies.

[weaselle]

i want to talk about real life villains

Not someone who mugs you, or kills someone while driving drunk, those are just criminals. I mean VILLAINS.

Not like trump or musk, who are... cartoonishly evil. And not sexy villains, not grandiose villains, not even satisfyingly two dimensional villains it is easy to hate unconditionally. The real villains.

I had a client who was a retired executive for one of the big oil companies, i think it was Shell or Chevron. Had a home just outside of San Francisco that was wall to wall floor to ceiling full of expensive art. Literally. I once accidentally knocked a painting off the wall because it was hanging at knee height at the corner of the stairs, and it had a little brass plaque on it, and i looked up the name of the artist and it was Monet's apprentice and son-in-law, who was apparently also a famous painter. He had an original Andy Warhol, which should have been a prize piece for anyone to showcase -- it was hanging in the bathroom. I swear to god this guy was using a Chihuly (famous glass sculptor) as a fruit bowl. And he was like, "idk my wife was the one who liked art"

I was intrigued by this guy, because in the circles i run this dude is The Enemy. right? Wealthy oil executive? But as my client, he was... like a sweet grandpa. A poor widower, a nice old man, anyone who knew him would have called him a sweetheart. He had a slightly bewildered air, a sort of gentle bumbling nature.

And the fact that he was both of these things, a Sweet Little Old Man and The Enemy, at the same time, seemed important and fascinating to me.

He reminded me of some antagonist from fiction, but i couldn't put my finger on who. And when i did it all made sense.

John Hammond.

probably one of the most realistic bad guys ever written.

If you've only ever seen the movie, this will need some explaining.

Michael Crichton wrote Jurassic Park in 1990, and i read it shortly thereafter. In the movie, the dinosaurs are the antagonists, which imo erases 50% of the point of the story.

book spoilers below.

In the book, John Hammond is the villain but it takes the reader like half the book to figure that out. Just like my client, John is a sweet old man who wants lovely things for people. He's a very sympathetic character. But as the book progresses, you start to see something about him.

He has an idea, and he's sure it's a good one. When someone else dies in pursuit of his dream, he doesn't think anything of it. When other people turn out to care about that, he brings in experts to evaluate the safety of his idea, and when they quickly tell him his idea is dangerous and needs to be put on hold, he ignores his own experts that he himself hired, because they are telling him that he is wrong, and he is sure he is right.

In his mind, he's a visionary, and nobody understands his vision. He is surrounded by naysayers. Several things have proven too difficult to do the best and safest way, so he has cut corners and taken shortcuts so he can keep moving forward with his plans, but he's sure it's fine. He refuses to hear any word of caution, because he believes he is being cautious enough, and he knows best, even though he has no background in any of the sciences or professions involved. He sends his own grandchildren out into a life-threatening situation because he is willfully ignorant of the danger he is creating.

THIS is like the real villains of the world. He doesn't want anyone to die. Far from it, he only wants good things for people! He's a sweet old man who loves his grandchildren. But he has money and power and refuses to hear that what he is doing is dangerous for everyone, even his own family.

I think he's possibly one of the most important villains ever written in popular fiction.

In the book, he is killed by a pack of the smallest, cutest, "least dangerous" dinosaurs, because a big part of why we read fiction is to see the villains face thematic justice. But like a cigarette CEO dying of lung cancer, his death does not stop his creation from spreading out into the world to continue to endanger everyone else.

I think it is really important to see and understand this kind of villainy in fiction, so you can recognize it in real life.

Sweetheart of a grandfather. Wanted the best for everyone. Right up until what was best for everyone inconvenienced the pursuit of his own interests.

And my client was like that too. His wife had died, and his dog was now the love of his life, and she was this little old dog with silky hair in a hair cut that left long wispy bits on her lower legs. Certain plant materials were easily entangled in this hair and impossible to get out without pulling her hair which clearly hurt her. When i suggested he ask his groomer to trim her lower leg hair short to avoid this, he refused, saying he really liked her usual hair cut.

I emphasized that she was in pain after every walk due to the plant debris getting caught in her leg hair, and a simple trim could put an end to her daily painful removal of it, and he just frowned like i'd recommended he take a bath in pig shit and said "But she'll be ugly" and refused to talk about it anymore.

Sweet old man though. Everyone loved him.

[impactrueno]

let's talk about shoes (stick with me here for a sec)

beetleboots beetleboots beetleboots.

what's up with the three of them wearing combat boots? they go well with each of their character designs so it's not like they look out of place with the rest of their outfits, but knowing this is tim burton and colleen atwood, these things are not mere coincidence.

(spoilers for Beetlejuice Beetlejuice below)

a common complaint i've seen people mention about Beetlejuice Beetlejuice is that "there's too many villains," but today i'm here to talk about why each of them matter in the narrative tim wanted to present here. yes the boots are related we'll get to that in a minute

delores, rory and jeremy all have one thing in common: the use of romantic betrayal in order to achieve their own selfish goals, destroying their victims in the process.

this, in turn, makes beetlejuice, lydia and astrid have another thing in common: they were the victims of these romantic betrayals.

you may think "okay but why is that necessary?"

this sequel made the interesting choice of nudging beetlejuice out of the villain role. he's now just a weird ally/deuteragonist...or perhaps even...a protagonist? but that's not enough! why should we as an audience care about him or sympathize with him?

that's where delores comes in. delores is less of a character and more of a plot device. her purpose (besides serving cunt) is to give beetlejuice backstory and be to beetlejuice what beetlejuice was to lydia, only worse. i talked a bit more about it in this post. thanks to her, we now learn that beetlejuice was a victim. not just that, she's also the looming threat beetlejuice needs to justify his marriage to lydia (he seems to be under the impression that this would help him escape delores more easily, but personally i'm not so sure, i think she's more powerful than that.) her return in combination with lydia's return to winter river is what sets his plan in motion.

rory is a pretty self-explanatory villain so i don't think we have to go into that. he wasn't out to kill lydia...but he's a golddigger, so i don't doubt he would've set something up to lead her into having a fatal accident and claim insurance benefits.

jeremy's role in the plot was to make astrid realize that she was wrong about the supernatural, as well as put her in danger in the afterlife, which is the drive lydia needs to turn to beetlejuice for help.

the role of an antagonist is to oppose or be an obstacle to the protagonist's goal. these three are the three obstacles beetlejuice needs to overcome in order to marry lydia.

first, he needs to save astrid as part of the deal with lydia. so he gets rid of jeremy to give astrid her life back. he knows exactly what it's like to be romanced into a death trap. you can tell this was satisfying for him. later, fucker.

then, he needs her fiancé rory out of the picture if he intends to marry lydia. since he knows this guy is a total piece of shit and is lying to her to lead her into the same trap he himself fell into with delores, he simply gives lydia the tools she needs to kick his ass herself. teamwork!

third comes delores. he just needs to survive delores, basically. he tries to pair her off with rory to try and kill two birds with one stone, but the stone that ends up killing them both is the sandworm that astrid summoned, which beetlejuice then guided straight to them. teamwork once again! (beetlejuice and astrid got rid of each other's problems, that's kind of cool)

these three things being taken care of means that beetlejuice can finally marry lydia.............

............except he doesn't. why? because he helped lydia. by bringing her into the afterlife to look for her daughter, he violated code 699. and he did it immediately after signing that contract. hoist by his own petard, this dumbass.

sorry i got sidetracked again. we were talking about boots, right? right right.

beetlejuice, lydia and astrid all walked in each other's shoes.

everything in this movie comes in threes. names, villains, victims, obstacles and pairs of combat boots.

[msmk11]

Just Like All the Other Angry Boyfriends Before

James Potter x Hufflepuff!fem!reader

WC: 4.2k

CW: angst; hurt/comfort; fluff; idiots

Summary: Two idiots in love who don’t know how to handle their emotions properly- aka school dance drama

A/n: yall said you wanted this fic even tho I lowkey hate it, so here it is!

Shrill squeals echo through the stone corridor as you make your way to the Great Hall after class. You turn the corner to find a group of girls surrounding Alice Fortescue and Frank Longbottom. Alice is blushing profusely as you hear her declare, “yes I’ll go to the formal with you!”

Frank whoops excitedly and draws Alice into a warm embrace. There are more squeals from the girls, so high pitched you’re sure they’ve shattered your ear drums. As you pass the happy couple, you smile at them warmly and share your congratulations. On the inside, however, you grimace. You’re no antagonist to fun, really, but as the winter formal continues to approach closer and closer, and you are still without a date, you find yourself beginning to reject the idea of any formal at all. It’s not that you have a lack of options either- plenty of people have asked you- but rather, you’ve been holding off in hopes that a certain special someone will.

Begrudgingly, you accept that if you put things off much longer, you will be dateless. And while you’re not necessarily opposed to going alone, you’d rather not when nearly all your friends have dates. Lily has Mary, Marlene has Dorcas, Alice has Frank, and Remus has Sirius.

That leaves you and James.

Although you’re a Hufflepuff, you throw your stuff down onto the Gryffindor table and plop into a seat next to Lily. You huff dejectedly and rest your head on her shoulder, “Why does everyone have to be all happy and in love? It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid honey, you’re just bitter because P-“

You slap your hand over her mouth and glare at her, “SHH there’s people around.”

“Right, sorry,” she replies, prying your hand off her mouth.

“Also…” she pauses and sniffs your hand, “is that a new lotion? What scent is it?”

Before you can answer, you’re interrupted by Mary who sits down on the other side of Lily and kisses her on the cheek.

“Uh, babe, why are you sniffing her hand?”

“I’m not weird, I swear! She’s the one who shoved her hand in my face. I just wanted to know what lotion she was using.”

Mary gives the two of you questioning looks.

“Potter” Lily mouths.

Mary nods in understanding and smirks. She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively as she shifts her attention to the raven-haired boy a few seats down.

“Still waiting for him to ask you?”

“Mhmmm.”

“You know, it is the 20th century, you could try asking him for a change.”

“Excellent idea, love! Oi, Potter, come here,” Lily shouts.

You glare at them in panic and mumble, “I hate you both.”

James looks up from his conversation with his friends and slides down the bench towards you.

“We have a very important question for you,” Lily says.

You glare at her once again, “I think Lily here is actually far over exaggerating the importance of the question. I’m sure whatever discussion you were having with Remus, Peter, and Sirius was much more urgent.”

James chuckles, “It’s the opposite actually. Remus and Sirius were arguing over what they are wearing to the formal. So really, you saved me.”

You let out the most pitiful laugh, cursing your luck.

“So… what is this very important question you wanted to ask me?”

You attempt to act nonchalant as you ask him if he has a date for the formal yet.

“Oh, the formal? Not yet, though I have a few options in mind. But if you’re implying you want to go together, I’m totally down.”

You’re pretty sure your heart skips a beat.

“I mean, I don’t want you to go alone while everyone else in the friend group has a date.”

This time, your heart drops.

“Oh, so you don’t mind doing me a favor and taking me to the formal?” You ask, an accusing tone to your voice.

“Right, that’s what friends are for,” he says, innocently.

Nail in the coffin.

“So, let me get this straight. You’ll only go with me because you feel sorry for me and because you don’t think I can get a date to the formal?” you ask angrily.

“No I-“ he begins defensively.

“Well you should know, Potter, that I do have a date to the formal, and I was only asking if you had one because I was worried you were going to be the one going alone.”

“Wait! You’re going with someone?!” He says, shocked.

“Don’t act so surprised. Just because I’m ‘one of the guys’ to you doesn’t mean I’m not desirable to other people,” you retort.

Then, you stand up and snatch your books off the table. As you storm away you hear him yell, “Wait, but who are you going with?”

Great question.

*****

Back in the Hufflepuff dorms, you sit in one of the common room chairs stewing over your recent interaction with James. While your initial reaction was anger, time has led way to more intense feelings of hurt. While he didn’t outwardly reject you, the sting of the friend zone was just as painful. You needed to move on, but with who?

The universe seems to answer your question in the form of Amos Diggory.

Amos Diggory- an arrogant, handsome, girlfriend-stealer, with an intense fear of commitment. He would be perfect.

No foreigner to flirting, you put on your most charming smile and call out, “Hey Diggory…”

He looks in your direction and you motion for him to come sit. He smiles at his friends and shoos them away. As Amos comes and sits down next to you you know that, if this goes according to plan, you will royally piss James off. The two rival in looks and on the quidditch field, and James cannot stand Amos.

“Hey gorgeous,” he says, looking you up and down.

“So, you, uh, have a date to the formal yet?”

“No, I prefer to go alone. So my options are open.”

You smirk teasingly, “What if I can convince you to change your mind?”

Amos smiles at you seductively, “I’m listening.”

“Well, you like to go to these things alone so you can entertain the attentions of many girls. But, if you go with one girl, me, you’ll get even more attention. What is going to happen when all of the girls at Hogwarts think that the Amos Diggory is off the market?”

“You have me intrigued,” he says, “And how are you not in Slytherin with that devious little mind of yours?”

“I prefer to keep it my little secret.”

Then, you lean closer to him, “Though I guess it’s our little secret now.”

Amos is falling perfectly into your trap, and you know that he already wants to kiss you. You pull away before he even gets the chance.

“Before I agree, what’s in this for you?” He asks.

“Revenge on James Potter…”

If your flirting hadn’t fully won him over, this does.

*****

In the evening, you make your way to the Gryffindor common room where you always do homework with your friends. Though James, Peter, and Sirius consistently show up late, you make sure to leave extra early to avoid conversation with James at all costs.

You forget, however, that James sometimes knows you better than you know yourself. So when you arrive, he is already there on the couch, waiting for you. Lily and Remus are spread out on the floor, Mary is sprawled across a red chair, and Dorcas is lying in Marlene’s lap reading her textbook while Marlene writes a paper. James shoots up from his seat as you walk in.

“Hey! Can we talk?” He asks anxiously.

Although they pretend to hide it, you know your friends are secretly listening. Still, you don’t care.

“No, James, we can’t. Although it may be uncharted territory, you and I are in what people call a fight. So just let me be.”

“But shouldn’t we talk?”

“No, James. I don’t want to talk. Not right now.”

The fight leaves his body and he retreats, “fine. I’ll just leave you be.”

He grabs his stuff and goes up to his dorm as you settle yourself in his place.

“Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh?” Remus asks softly.

“Maybe,” you say, “But I’m sick of always downplaying my feelings to protect his. It’s not fair to me.”

Lily grabs your hand, “you’re right, it’s not fair. And I’m sorry for pushing all of this on you, it wasn’t my place.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry too,” Mary adds.

“Well, I’m not. This just encouraged me to get over my silly little crush and focus my attentions on someone who will actually take interest in me. There are plenty of people out there.”

“Hell yeah there are!” Marlene says encouragingly.

Dorcas smacks her arm, “Marlene! James is one of your best friends!”

“So is she! I love them both, but she’s right, she needs to do what’s best for her.”

“Just don’t push him away completely,” Dorcas tells you seriously.

“I won’t,” you sigh, “He‘s still so important to me. It just won’t be in the way that I hoped.”

Silence falls over the group.

“Who fucking died?”

Everyone jumps and turns to look in the direction of the voice. Behind you stands Sirius and Peter, both with perplexed looks on their faces.

“James, after she fucking tore him apart earlier,” Marlene replies, motioning to you.

Peter nods as he plops down by your feet, “Oh right! I heard about that.”

Sirius smacks you upside the head, “Yeah, what was that all about?”

“He basically called me a fucking unattractive loser. What else was I supposed to do?” You say, smacking him back.

“I think you’re over-exaggerating just a little bit,” Mary responds cautiously.

“I mean, I think he was just trying to be nice. Maybe it hurt because he essentially friendzoned you?” Lily adds.

“Wait, do you have a crush on James?” Sirius asks you.

“Sirius, have you really never noticed?” Remus responds disbelievingly.

Sirius only shrugs his shoulders.

“Okay, I get it, I get it. James is the perfect golden boy and I’m just another one of Potter’s stupid fangirls who follows him blindly and makes a fool of themselves.”

“Honey no,” Lily starts, “it’s not that it’s-“

“Can you not lecture me, please?” You interrupt, “Maybe I overreacted, but is it so wrong to be angry about being pitied. Especially by someone you really care about?”

“No, it’s not,” Peter tells you, “I get it.”

“Thank you,” you respond dejectedly.

It’s quiet for a moment and you’re stuck stewing in your own self-loathing.

Then, Lily speaks up again, “Uhm, I have one more question, and then I’ll drop the subject.”

You nod, encouraging her to continue.

“Who are you going to take to the formal? Because you told James you had a date, even though you didn’t.”

“Oh, yeah, uhmmm about that…” you say, laughing nervously.

“What rash thing did you do now?” Dorcas asks.

“I may or may not have asked Amos Diggory to be my date to the dance…. And he said yes.”

Marlene laughs loudly, “Oh shit!”

*****

To avoid conflict, you decide that it’s best for you to go to the formal with Amos and his friends rather than string him along with yours. Tension is already high between James and you, and you know Amos’ being there would only make things worse. You try to push it out of your mind, but you can’t help wondering who James is taking to the formal with him. You picture all the prettier, smarter, and better girls he could be going with, and your stomach begins to ache. You are also worried about what people will say in relation to you going with Amos.

Your thoughts start to spiral. Will people hate you? Will James hate you? Is your dress all wrong? Will you be the worst dressed there? The anxieties are endless and there seems to be no relief in sight.

Still, you push through and doll yourself up, masking your true feelings behind layers of hairspray, makeup, and itchy fabric. Your dress is light blue with a silvery sheer fabric over top, like fresh snow on a frozen lake. The top half is form-fitting with silvery straps, and the bottom spreads outward in a loose skirt. You twist back the front strands of your hair with silver clips and adorn your face with light makeup and shimmery eyeshadow. At promptly eight you drag yourself to the common room where Amos sits with his friends and their dates.

You put on a fake smile, “Amos, you look handsome.”

He looks you up and down, “I know. And you look hot.”

What a gentleman.

You say a polite thank you and avoid some of the stares you’re getting from the other girls. You can tell that some are jealous already, yet they maintain outward politeness, which you’re grateful for.

Amos, at least, extends his arm, which you grab, as you walk towards the Great Hall. Your walk is filled with polite conversation about simple things from quidditch, to class, and plans for the holidays. So far, it’s not as bad as you thought, though you wished you would have just gone dateless with your friends.

You cast these regrets aside, however, when you arrive at your destination. To no one’s surprise, the Hogwarts decorating committee has outdone themselves once again. The typical long, wooden tables are gone and in place is a magnificent white dance floor that seems to shimmer like the snow. Warm, golden globes of light hang from the sky and snowflakes fall from above, though never reaching the ground. The room is an explosion of silvers, whites, and blues, and you’re sure you’ve stepped into a winter wonderland.

“This is just-“ Amos begins.

“Wow” you finish, “Like a winter wonderland.”

“And you’re its queen,” he says.

You blush in spite of yourself.

“Compliments won’t get you a kiss so soon,” you tease, “It’s only eight.”

He bites his lip, “fine. But I can only restrain myself from a beautiful girl so long.”

You laugh lightly and swat him on the shoulder. Then, music begins to play.

Amos motions towards the dance floor, “shall we?”

*****

As James adjusts his tie in the mirror, he can’t help but think about what a pathetic loser he is. Although he’d had plenty of girls who he could have gone to the formal with, he continued to wait, assuming there would be someone better coming along. Who that person was, he wasn’t sure. But now, he was alone.

And then there was you. He doesn't know what happened. One second you two were fine, and then suddenly, you blew up. While he knows that he insulted you, he can’t understand why you are so angry. Sirius said not to overthink it, that girls are just complicated, but you are one of his best friends. He knows there is something else going on and it’s left a terrible pit in his stomach.

“Earth to James!”

“Huh?” He awakes from his trance and notices that Peter is waving his hand in front of his face.

“You ready to go?”

“Oh, yeah.”

They head downstairs and meet up with the rest of the group- Pete and his girl from Ravenclaw, Sirius and Remus, Marlene and Dorcas, Mary and Lily, and you-

Not present because he is an ass.

James wonders who you’re going with.

They all cheer loudly, “James, you look great!”

“Thanks, guys, but it’s you all that look great.”

“Hell yeah we do!” Sirius exclaims.

Everyone laughs and begins to file out the portrait hole down to the Great Hall. Despite being the only dateless friend, James’ spirits are lifted by their jokes and ramblings. When they reach the dance, everyone oohs and aahs over the shimmery decorations. Instantly, James cranes his neck, looking for you in the crowd as he walks with the group towards a table off to the left. As they all set their stuff down, the music begins to play and couples rush to the floor. His friends join them, excited to dance.

“James, you coming?” Sirius asks.

He shakes his head, “next song.”

Sirius shrugs and walks off with Remus. James continues to search the crowd, looking for you. He realizes he doesn’t know what you’re wearing- and he supposes he never asked. James wonders if best friends are supposed to do that sort of thing.

Probably.

It hits him, then. With everything that’s been going on lately- being head boy, quidditch captain, and taking ridiculously hard classes, he’d sort of ignored you. It’s no wonder you’re so angry with him.

James feels totally guilty until he sees you. It’s then, he realizes, that he has a reason to be angry too. There you are, after all his moping and worrying, with Amos fucking Diggory. James knows that he hasn’t been the best of friends lately, but Diggory? That was his rival! You were crossing a line.

But what really bothers him the most is the way you’re laughing at something Diggiry said. He is hardly funny, and has the personality of a piece of paper. And why are you leaning so close to him? He’s not even that attractive or charming.

As you swirl across the dance floor, he watches how your hands hold tightly to Diggory’s shoulders, like he’s your anchor. James also notices Diggory’s hands around your waist, far too close to your ass, and his blood boils. No way would he let his rival feel up his friend.

When the song ends, James begins to stalk towards you two, but is pushed backwards by Sirius and Remus.

“Not worth it mate,” Sirius warns.

“But Padfoot, this is unbelievable. She is unbelievable. How could she ever agree to go with him? She knows how much I hate him, and is just trying to get back at me.”

“Mate, it’s this type of thinking that pushed her into his arms,” Remus mumbles.

“What, what do you mean?”

“James, she asked him to the formal after you basically made her feel like shit. Whether she realized it or not, she turned to who she thought would hurt you the most. She wanted you to feel what she was feeling, even a little bit.”

“It’s not her best decision, but ignoring her wasn’t yours either,” Sirius adds.

James rubs his face tiredly, “God, I know.”

Sirius pats his back, “Just… take a few minutes and then come join us. Don’t let it ruin your night.”

“And while you’re sitting here, maybe reflect a little more on why you’re so upset,” Remus adds.

“Rem-” Sirius says with a warning tone.

He puts his hands up defensively, “I didn’t say anything. Let’s go.”

As they walk away James notices their slight bickering. He laughs at them in spite of himself. Secretly, he’s always been a little bit jealous of their relationship. Though they are far from perfect, they’re comfortable with each other in a way that he can only hope for. He thinks the fact that they were friends for five years before they dated helped. There’s this trust and friendship that is so necessary in order to support the love and passion that comes with romance.

As another song ends, James decides not to get up from his seat. He watches Amos and you some more. While his blood is still boiling, there is a twinge of something else.

“Maybe reflect a little more on why you’re upset.”

*****

Surprisingly, you’re having more fun with Amos than you thought you would. While you would never date him, you appreciate his company tonight. He’s been making you laugh all night, so you’re surprised when another song comes on and he suddenly gets serious.

“You know, gorgeous, I’m not one to waste my time on Potter, but he’s been glaring in our direction for the past fifteen minutes.”

“Just ignore him.”

“I would, but it’s kind of hard when he is burning holes into my head.”

You huff apologetically, “God, I’m so sorry. I hope it’s not ruining your night.”

“Eh, I’m used to Potter throwing temper tantrums when he doesn’t get what he wants. He’s clearly just mad he’s not dancing with the most beautiful girl in the room.”

“Pfft, yeah right. He’s just mad that I’m dancing with you. Otherwise, he wouldn’t give a shit.”

“Can I give you my honest opinion?”

You hum in agreement.

“As I’m sure you know, I have a reputation for girlfriend stealing.”

“Yes? And?” You say, confused.

“Well, with stealing girlfriends also comes a lot of angry boyfriends. And Potter over there, he looks exactly like all the angry boyfriends I’ve dealt with, who want to beat the shit out of me.”

“Which makes no sense, because he doesn’t act like a boyfriend whenever we’re together. It’s not fucking fair. He doesn’t want me, but it’s like he doesn’t want anyone else to have me either.”

“Listen to me. I may not know what the fuck is going on with you two, but it’s pretty clear to anyone that you guys both have feelings for each other. So, as your date, I think it's my duty to end ours early. We both achieved our goals- all the girls in the room want me, and Potter can’t take his eyes off of you.”

You release a shaky sigh, “Okay, fine.”

As the song ends he releases you and gives you a wink, “Well, for now, this is goodbye. Since I’m sure you’ll be Potter’s girlfriend by the end of the night, I imagine we are going to be mortal enemies from now on. Or until graduation at least.”

You chuckle a little as you straighten his tie one last time.

“Go get him,” he says.

You stand up on your tip toes and kiss him on the cheek, “Bye Diggory. Next time I speak to you, you better be settled down with a nice girl, at 9 ¾, with your rowdy kids for their first year of school.”

He laughs and you part ways for the night. Before you allow yourself to approach James, you walk outside to the courtyard nearby. You lean up against the railing and look out towards the stars. The cool breeze fills your lungs and is comfortable against your hot skin. It’s silent except for the soft notes of music drifting out from the Great Hall.

“So, you and Diggory huh?”

You jump at James’ voice and turn to him, “Yep, and you and the invisible girl. I thought you were Mr. Hotshot, with plenty of girls lined up as possible dates?”

“And I thought Hufflepuffs were supposed to be loyal.”

You scoff, “It wasn’t personal, James. Just a silly little date to a silly little formal.”

“Bullshit” he yells, “You were mad so you went and found a date that you knew I would hate!”

“God, you are so conceited! Not everything is about you. Maybe I just liked Amos’ company. He’s not all that bad, you know.”

“Oh, so now you’re defending him? Next thing I know there’ll be wedding bells.”

“Maybe there will be. He’s funny, attractive, and actually gives me the time of day!” you retort.

“Just so he can get you into his bed, fuck you, and then ignore you after,” James shouts back.

You stare at each other in silence for a moment.

“I mean, Merlin, is that really what you want? I know it's not my place to give my opinion about who you date or-”

“And that’s the whole problem,” you interrupt.

“What?”

“James, you're my best friend. I want your opinion about these things- even if I don’t always want to hear it. It at least shows you care about me. Lately, it’s like I don’t even exist.”

“I know, I know and I’m sorry. You deserve better. A better friend and…” he steps a little closer, “a better romantic interest?”

You let out a small laugh, “romantic interest?”

“What? If this night has shown me anything, I clearly don’t know what- or who- you’re looking for in romance. And that’s on me. But I want that to change from now on.”

You take a deep breath and step even closer to him. You look up into his hazel eyes, your faces so close your noses are almost touching.

“Well, in the name of change, I guess I have to confess, I do have a romantic interest… in you.”

“And as a part of my duties as your best friend, I believe it my responsibility to tell you that… you should go for it.”

Already so close together, you merely stand on your tip toes and lock lips with James. He kisses back and puts his hands around your waist. For a second, he pulls away.

You look up at him with questioning eyes.

His grip on your waist tightens, “I don’t ever want another man’s hands here ever again. It was driving me crazy tonight, the way Amos was touching you.”

You smirk at him, “Jealous are we?”

He grunts in affirmation and pulls you in again. The kiss lasts a few minutes with you up against the railing. At first it’s fast and passionate. But with time it becomes slower and more sweet. More loving.

Eventually, you slowly pull apart. You look at him softly and ask breathlessly, “So, do you have a date to the formal yet?”

[essycogany]

Sonic As A Villain

I don’t have a name for him, but this is my interpretation of Sonic as a villain. Here’s a hint, imagine if you noticed it, but not through his personality.

I’ve seen many interpretations of Sonic as a villain and instead of having him be a Sonic but on a bad day like Scourge. Sonic but dark and more violent like in Sonic X. Or Sonic but insane like Fleetway or Chaos Sonic, let’s have something different.

Have you ever noticed how Sonic can always manipulate a situation? He does it a bunch when he fights or interacts with people. It’s almost never in a negative way, but it does come across as a bit prideful and egotistical. Usually everything ends up going his way or has to go his way.

I believe if Sonic was ever to be a villain, he’d be a master manipulator. Funnily enough Sonic barely ever lies about things in most continuities, but at the same time is able to trick people or bend things to his will whenever he needs to. I’d like to think a villainous Sonic would be perceived as a good guy. Like standing up for Tails, but instead of moving on and letting Tails join him, Sonic manipulates Tails into beating up the bullies who bullied him.

He’d make Amy feel as if she doesn’t need to fend for herself and tell her to rely on him whenever she needs help. Or tell Knuckles to never trust anyone or ends up not inspiring him, so Knuckles stays antagonistic and untrusting. He’d inspire people to be the worst versions of themselves. Therefore creating a toxic atmosphere. Ideas like that.

This Sonic would be one who’d not care about being famous or rule over anything like a dictator. He’s like normal Sonic in a sense that he goes by his own rules, but it’d be for the worst intentions. He also takes advantage that he’s fast and uses his speed as a weapon. Destroying homes, pulling pranks, stealing, messing up the ecosystem, and all that jazz. He might save the world if it meant he didn’t have to die. But he doesn’t care if some Egg-shaped scientist is destroying the world. As long as he’s not bothering Sonic, why should he care? If he does go against Eggman or any other villains, he’d most likely kill them on the spot. Not out of heroism, but just out of spite. He doesn’t like being bothered.

When he says he doesn’t mind being the bad guy, he means it literally. He’d lack the emotional depth Sonic has and be a caricature of the “Cool guy being a jerk” trope. He doesn’t care if he’s seen as evil or not. He just likes causing mischief. No tragic backstory for him. Sonic’s the way he is because he chooses to be. That includes when he’s the bad guy.

He could act like a good guy in front of a crowd, but in reality, he’s causing the issues people believe he’s saved them from. All you gotta do with an evil version of him is turn his best/worst attributes of his personality and crank them to 100. He doesn’t have to be wild and crazy about it. He’d be just as chill and laid back as normal Sonic. Except he enjoys the chaos around him. Unlike other evil interpretations he’s the most similar to normal Sonic. And it makes things so much worse when he causes problems.

This isn’t the perfect idea, but I do like the concept of Sonic but evil in a way that almost doesn’t change his morals/personality.

[as-para-gus]

Miles' universe is Blank.

Right at the beginning of the movie, the lady explains that its her job to 'capture his universe', but she has no idea who this kid is, so she has nothing written.

Miles is the 'original' anomaly, who—according to Miguel—was never meant to be spiderman. It makes sense that no one quite knows what to expect.

But hold on a second, in a universe where spiderman already existed, would changing a canon event still be catastrophic when they've technically already happened?

If it is, why hasn't the universe where Miles' spider came from collapsed in on itself like Miguel claims it should? Because the spider never bit Peter Parker in that universe, I'd say that several canon events have changed, but other than chaos due to lack of a spiderman, the universe has yet to tear itself apart.

Why do they listen to Miguel anyway? Oh right, because he's experienced it the consequences of changing canon events. But in that case, wouldn't that make him the original anomaly?

It would make sense, both him and Miles have distinct powers that seperate themselves from the other spiders, like invisibility or vampire-esque teeth.

Dont let all the different versions of spiderman confuse you, they all have things in common—outside of canon events—and Miguel is an outlier in all of them.

No humor, distinct webs, and whatever the hell he injected himself with aside, Miguel has not only lost sight of what it means to be spiderman, but also managed to drag everyone down with him.

Maybe thats why Miguel makes such a good antagonist, because I dont know about you, but alot of what he explained made sense. I found myself even agreeing—greater good and all that. Sure it sucks, but thats the responsibility of Spiderman right?

But wait. When did spiderman become so cynical? As of now, Miguel is not Spiderman. Maybe he never was. I hope for Miles sake thats not true.

But back on topic. Just like that lady at the very start, Miguel also has no idea who this kid is, or how his universe is going to turn out - and thats a little scary. Especially when its possible Miles can achieve everything he wasnt able to. There are a million reasons why Miguel's univeres collaped in on itself, and I'm not inclined to take his word.

[moonstruckme]

hi! congratulations on 8k! i know no one who deserves it as much as you! i hope you are having a lovely day. just wanted to request this if it hasn’t been done before:

hot cocoa☕️; ‘coming home’ with james

the way you write is so soft and gentle and reminds me of when my mom would dump laundry that just came out of the dryer on me as a kid so thank you so much for being a source of comfort to me:)

thank you either way!

Oh that's the best feeling, thank you so much!

cw: vague mention of reader's "friends and family," which in my head could mean chosen family, I tried to keep these people very obscure so sorry if that makes the writing feel unnatural

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 857 words

James watches you with an odd sort of pride as you navigate the contours of a beat-up road on instinct and memory.

You’ve become more obviously familiar as your little road trip has gone on. It’s endearing, your posture changing and fingers sure as they turn the dial to a radio station you must know; you’re getting closer to home. James rolls down his window and breathes in the scent of dogwood trees and wet soil, and he imagines you smelling these things every day for so long they became a part of you. You curve around a pothole so naturally James doesn’t think you’ve noticed yourself doing it. 

He realizes the wind is messing up his hair, and puts up his window quickly. 

You notice his unease. “What?” 

“They’re going to think I’m a mess,” he says, flipping down the visor above his seat to fix his hair in the mirror. It always looks disheveled, but he was hoping to have it less so to meet your friends and family. 

You laugh. The sound relaxes James some, light and sweet and all things lovely. “They are not,” you say. “You’re going to charm the pants off of everyone without even trying, and then they’re going to vote to replace me with you.” 

He grins, slotting a piece of hair behind your ear that had come loose when he’d let the wind in. “I wouldn’t let that happen to you, lovie.”

“Not sure you can help it.” You look at him sideways, teasing. “Everyone falls in love with you instantly. I’ll seem bland by comparison.” 

This is something you’ve repeated often since inviting James home with you—not the part about you seeming bland, which is the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard, but about everyone liking him. You have an unshakeable faith in his ability to get on with people. The word irresistible has been employed once or twice, and James doesn’t have the heart to correct you (Sirius’ parents seemed perfectly able to resist him. Argus Filch would probably still have James’ bollocks in detention if it were in his power). Every time he’s suggested you might be biased you’ve waved him off. 

Still, James isn’t very nervous. He’s going to meet the people that have been your home; loving you is something they’ll all have in common. 

“You could never be bland.” He leans over to smooch your cheek, chuffed when it squishes with a smile with your eyes still on the road. “Anyway, if they try to excommunicate you I’ll only go with you.” 

“Will you?” you ask, pleased. 

“Course. You’re my favorite.” 

You make an amused humming sound, reaching for his hand. Your fingers are cold, and James sets about warming them, rubbing his thumb over yours. “It’s that sort of sweet talk that’s going to have you sitting in my spot at the table by dinner,” you say, “just you watch.” 

“We’ll sit in it together,” he replies, stroking a line down to your wrist. “That’ll show ‘em.” James probably shouldn’t be talking about your people like they’re antagonists already, but he’s gotten distracted by the sweet bit of skin where your long sleeve has slipped up your wrist. He leans down thoughtlessly, pressing a kiss to the intricate linework of veins showing beneath your skin. 

James comes from an adolescence of dorms and locker rooms. Having had multiple serious conversations fully naked, nudity doesn’t tend to phase him. He is, however, an eighteenth-century gentleman for you and only you. The delicate bumps and creases of your wrists and knees make his heart flutter in a way he has to imagine is medically dangerous. 

These are feelings he’s going to have to get a handle on while meeting the people you grew up around. 

James sighs. “I should have brought a dish.” 

“Don’t,” you chide. Your fingers tighten on his, squeezing reassuringly. “You didn’t need to bring anything, there will be too much food anyway. Are you really still nervous?” 

“Not very,” he admits. “I do want them to like me, though. And…don’t get after me for chauvinism or anything, but I want them to think I’m taking good care of you.” 

You slow down at the side of the road, and for a second James thinks you’re stopping to console him, but then he sees the line of cars parked in front of you. You’re here. 

You turn the car off before taking off your seatbelt, turning to face him. “You take very good care of me,” you tell him, soft and kind with your hand on his cheek. “You don’t need to worry. They’re going to love you for all the same reasons I do.” 

James raises his eyebrows. “I’m not taking my shirt off for them.” 

Your eyes sparkle beautifully when you laugh. “Maybe not those reasons. But really, when has anyone not liked you?” 

“I could make you a list…” 

“It’d be exaggerated.” You roll your eyes, kissing him once before reaching into the backseat for your bag. “Ready?” 

James smiles, the warm impression of your lips still tingling on his. He'd go anywhere you asked him to.

[starlightandfairies]

Hiii 🫶🏼 I hope you're still up for doing an Elijah request! 🤗 I can't get this man out of my head haha

Soo it would be an idea where they met somewhere in Mystic Falls and immediately felt some bond between them, so it happens that they start falling in love (she's human but knows about vampires) but she's too afraid to get hurt so she also tries not to get too close to Elijah. One night he sees some stranger following her home from the Grill and even starts attacking her, Elijah is immediately there saving her and taking her home with him to treat her wounds (mostly some scratches) and he's just super worried. There she realizes that Elijah would never be the one hurting her and they finally share their feelings with a lot of kissing and cuddles afterwards and he holds her, telling how much she means to him.

Oh I hope this is not too weird at all 🙈❤️

Description: Upon meeting Elijah Mikaelson, the feelings start to come but in fear of being hurt, the reader decides to keep her walls up to protect herself. This changes after Elijah protects her after being attacked.

Warnings: fluff, small angst, physical assault (mild), she/her pronouns, maybe swearing?

*Requests are open, please send through as many requests as you want, check my character list and requesting rules.*

Thanks so much for making this request! I can never get sick of Elijah, this man is always on my mind and please feel free to request again if you wish :) I really enjoyed writing this, thank you again :D

Key: Y/N = Your Name, POV = Point of view

Word Count: 2,125

First Person's POV

Tonight at the Grill was a ‘live acoustics’ night, some of the performers were good and others were quite frankly not that great. Bonnie, Elena and Caroline were off on the next big adventure for the vampiric save-the-day business and while I knew about all the vampires, witches, werewolves and all that extra fun stuff. Besides Matt, I was the only human in the group and somehow I was pushed aside to be kept ‘safe; despite Matt always being dragged into the whirlpool of drama even if he didn’t want to be. 

“The music is wonderful for the atmosphere tonight, don’t you agree?” That voice would haunt my dreams, haunt my every thought, I couldn’t fathom how gentle and warm a voice could sound. I glanced to the side, shooting a polite smile to the impeccably dressed man and nodded in agreement. 

“I do agree, I feel like I’m in like a cute little romance story, the warm lighting and the music-“ I cut myself short, realising I was babbling to a random stranger who more than likely did not care for my ideas and thoughts. 

“I can see how you would see that.” Oh, gosh- those eyes! That smile! This man would haunt me forever, picture perfect and everything I would want in a man. I continued to share a polite smile with the man, fiddling with the straw in my chocolate milkshake and turned myself slightly to face the man a little better. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you…?” Realising that he was waiting for my name, I placed my drink down and took his hand. 

“Y/N L/N” He softly cupped my hand, shaking it and proceeded to share his name.

“Elijah Mikaelson.” I wish I could’ve hidden my reaction better, my eyes went wide, and my smile flattened for a moment before I quickly made sure to continue to be nice and polite. Elijah carefully rested my head on the bar, took a small sip of whatever his drink was and gazed at me with a quizzical look. 

“You know who I am…” His tone was neither harsh nor hurt, Elijah seemed to have suspected my knowledge of his name and he even seemed curious by the idea of my knowledge. 

“I know of your brother Niklaus… Elena told me about you, I think she might have exaggerated a bit. You don’t seem like the antagonist she kinda painted you out to be. From what I’ve heard, you’re the nicer brother… the noble one and I'm sure first glances can be deceiving but… I don’t know- you don’t seem like a bad man.”  He briefly licked his lips, eyes shooting up to the ceiling and seemed to be contemplating his next moves. 

“I suppose you know-“ 

“That you’re a…” I leaned closer to whisper so people passing by wouldn’t hear. 

“An Original.” 

“You don’t seem to be phased.”

“Team doppelgänger has built up my immunity to supernatural beings.” I let out a weak chuckle, cringing internally and turned my focus back on my drink. I wanted to keep speaking with him, I really did want to keep speaking with him but I knew the world that I happened to live in and I didn’t fancy the idea of being bait or hurt as collateral damage. 

“It was really nice to meet you Elijah but I have to go.” He nodded, that handsome smile appearing once more, his actions made me gush and brought butterflies into my belly as he grabbed my jacket and assisted in placing it back on. 

“I hope that you have a good evening, Y/N” 

“Same to you Elijah.” He seemed to have a thought pop into his head, I stopped in my tracks, allowing for him to have the benefit of the doubt and give him the chance to speak his mind. 

“May I have the pleasure of seeing you again?” 

“Maybe… There’s always tomorrow.” I knew I had given myself away, I could feel my heart skip a beat, I’m sure he could hear it, his facial expression didn’t change but I could feel that he knew what I was feeling. 

“Have a good evening,” I whispered, brushing past him to carry on my way. 

+++++++

I had seen Elijah a couple of times since our first meeting, we had small conversations and I tried my best to conceal my heart, I didn't want to get close to this man despite enjoying his presence, his voice and the true appearance of his gentlemanly ways made me fall into a daydream greater than any story or dream I could ever have or read. 

The next time I saw Elijah was three months after our first meeting, as I said we had multiple different meetings and they were all the greatest moments of my life despite how much I tried to protect my fragile heart. I had left my home for the park, I wanted to read outside of my home and get some fresh air away from the stuffiness of my bedroom. I rested the picnic blanket underneath a large tree, I read three chapters of my book before I felt a presence looming nearby, I placed the book to the side and stood up, surveying the area for a figure and jumped in my skin seeing Elijah approaching me. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you, may I join you?" I nodded, smiling at the man, watching as he unbuttoned his shirt and sat down with me on the picnic blanket. He gently picked my book up, staring at the cover with intrigue, I observed him with butterflies growing in my stomach, a blush wanting to form on my cheeks as I continued to drown in what was possibly a huge crush for the Original Vampire. 

"Ignite Me by Tahereh Mafi... I'm not sure I've heard of this one before." 

"I doubt you would've, I don't exactly picture you reading a book like this?" He smiled, tilting his head slightly, a deep chuckle leaving his mouth and he handed me back the book. 

"Why is that?" 

"Well... I don't know, I picture you reading older books nothing from the late 20th century to the early 21st century." Elijah briefly nodded in agreement, I smiled proudly at my guess and fiddled with the tassels hanging off of my bookmark. The vampire took off his suit jacket and began rolling up the sleeves of his button-up, I bit the inside of my cheek, begging myself to remain calm and avoid giving away any kind of emotions being revealed. 

"Enlighten me, will you though, please? What's it about?" I cleared my throat, leaning closer to him with joy forming, giddy that he was showing interest in something that I liked and enjoyed. 

"It's the third book in the series, I've read it before, and this one is one of my favourites. Essentially the series is all about control some people have these powers and the leaders are trying to control these people. The relationship of the main characters is what I happen to enjoy the most about it, I love how Tahereh created their bond from..." 

"Why did you stop?" Elijah gently questioned, his face furrowing in concern, I wanted to cringe but I forced the words out before I could let that show. Taking a deep breath, I turned my gaze back to him, scrunching my face up briefly and proceeded to explain to Elijah what was going through my head. 

"Whenever I ramble on to the Salvatores and all that, it's clear that they don't care and I'm not wanting to force that onto you. I'm sorry." Elijah tutted, shaking his head and holding out his hand for me to take. Hesitating for a moment, I finally rested my hand in his, holding my breath for a moment and kept my eyes focused on him as he rested his other hand on top of mine. 

"You do that too often, Y/N, I can see you trying to protect your heart and you have a wide range of information waiting to come out and you shut yourself down because you expect everyone else to do that. I hope you find someone... someone who makes you realise you don't need to do that." 

"Could possibly end up being you, Elijah," I whispered.

+++++

When someone unknown came into Mystic Falls, it was always a concerning event, the vampires were always the most suspicious of strangers and most of the time they were typically right for not trusting the stranger. It was late when I left the grill tonight, Elijah was growing on my mind more and more, and I would be hit with a wave of memories at random moments. 

"Up ahead, there's an alley to your right, walk down it. Try anything-" 

"Okay... I understand." I whispered, complying as I walked a little quicker and turned down the alleyway. I cried out as I was instantly shoved against the wall, my head ached and the world spun around me, I bit back a sob as I hit the ground and hissed as the gravel bit into my skin. I kicked off my heels, not fancying a broken ankle and lept to my feet running towards the street but missed as the man tackled me to the ground and which resulted in blood slightly trickling down my forehead and more cuts forming against my skin. 

It felt like something out of a vampire movie, I heard a whoosh and then a light thud. Elijah appeared, holding the man against the wall effortlessly with one hand and easily compelled the man to walk off and not commit any sort of crime again. I let out a few sobs as the pain sunk in and the adrenaline started to fade away.

Elijah swooped me into his arms, effortlessly taking me to his mansion and rested me down on his obnoxiously large bed. He crouched down, gently cupping my face in his hands, observing my facial features and swiftly disappeared somewhere before running back. 

"Are you okay?" He questioned, focusing on grabbing the things from the first-aid kit to treat my wounds. 

"I'm okay..." I whispered, hissing as he wiped an alcohol wipe across the graze on my palm and watched as he apologised profusely for inflicting any added pain onto me. Elijah was so attentive to my needs, he cleaned the blood and dirt away from my cuts and grazes. Covering them with bandaids, doing what he could to assist in caring for me. It was as he was lingering for a moment, observing my form that I realised that Elijah Mikaelson would never hurt me. He would never cause any harm to me, Elijah Mikaelson would protect me and I knew that I wouldn't need to worry any longer. 

"You wouldn't hurt me..." I whispered, staring at the vampire as he grasped my face and held eye contact with me. 

"Y/N L/N I would never dream of hurting you, you... you're perfect... Y/N you are the epitome of perfect, I haven't met someone as intelligent, kind, sweet, and funny in a long time. Y/N I love you and I hope that you'll allow-" I pushed myself closer to him, carefully cupping his face to kiss the man who had possessed my dreams too often. 

"Elijah, please, never let me go, I can't keep guarding myself-" 

"Shhh, I've got you." He kissed my forehead, pulling me into his arms and pushing himself to lay against the headboard of his bed. I inhaled, holding onto the warm and mesmerising smell of his cologne, I curled into his chest and hummed gently as he rested another kiss on my forehead. 

I felt protected, Elijah was my guardian angel, and he made me feel warm and gooey. Made me giddy and the butterflies a constant swarm in my belly, I fiddled with his hands, staring at the family ring that rested on his finger and glanced to him as he pulled my face to meet his. I hummed as he rested a kiss against my lips, sucking in another deep breath and curling in closer as he strokes my hair, his touch comforting and loving. 

"Can I stay here? Just in your arms? Where I'm safe and with you, you Elijah who looks after me and takes the time to listen and know me?" Elijah's smile made the butterflies come to life, my cheeks flushed red and his simple words reassured me for an infinity of time. 

"Always and forever." 

[gr1mstar]

I'm a huge Dark romance book girlie

So can you write LDS boys finding out what she was reading like they had no idea reader has a fascination with dark romance books with psychotic ml or villains

I'M BETTER `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

note. i'm also a huge fan of darl romance books so i had fun writing this. thank you for your request love. also, i'm sorry for the wait, i hope you like it.

contains. love and deepspace boys x reader, fluff, sfw.

ZAYNE

you both had this hobby of reading, so it wasn't strange when zayne found you on the sofa in the living room of your apartment, reading a new book.

the only difference between you was that zayne read books related to medicine and history, while you liked to read romance books. zayne knew that you weren't into history or medicine, so he didn't bother to explain in detail what he read, but he was more satisfied listening to you complain that the two protagonists are stupid that they don't see that they love each other others.

at least zayne liked listening to your stories until they disappeared. suddenly, you started not telling him anything.

so curiously, when you put the book down to go drink a glass of water from the kitchen, he took the book you were reading at the moment, wanting to see what makes you stop sharing the plot of the story.

after some time, making your way back to the living room and seeing zayne with the book in his hand, his face red and a shocked expression on his face, you started to laugh subtly.

"what is it? what's with that expression?"

speechless, zayne puts the book down, moving closer to you.

"to understand that this is how you want me to be too?" he said, placing his hands on either side of your waist.

"what?"

"to talk to you like this… to tie you to the bed with something and make you stop walking the next day? to be crazy about you? what do you say?"

XAVIER

seeing you blushing in front of the book you were reading, xavier couldn't help but ask you what you were reading.

"ah, just a romance book." was your answer, returning to reading, the blush on your cheeks not disappearing.

not satisfied with the answer, xavier sighs and sits back with his head in your lap. thinking that he had nothing to lose, in a second the book you were reading now was in xavier's hands, his eyes on the lines you had just read.

"what is this?" he asked, flipping through a few pages and then looking at the cover. a smile appeared on his face. "do you like this stuff?" he continued, handing you the book back.

you didn't answer now the blush in your cheeks being much more obvious than before, your gaze moving down, avoiding his.

"i understand that you like antagonists more than heroes, right? someone obsessed with you?" xavier said, approaching you with big steps, now being a few millimeters away from you. bending down, his face was directly in front of yours, and with the help of a hand he forced you to look at him, grabbing your chin and turning your head.

"you're lucky, princess. i can be mean sometimes, but you have to take responsibility for it."

RAFAYEL

rafayel never understood what you like so much about books. it is a fictional story, with a fictional person. why waste your time reading about them when you have him, alive and very sexy, in front of you.

this, out of curiosity, he tried to read one day, when he had no painting to complete.

getting into bed, with a cup of coffee 'for energy', he started reading the last book you recommended, not expecting what would happen next.

the hours passed quickly, and in the middle of the book Rafayel lay down, looking at the time in wonder. the whole day had passed, and all he had done was read.

"i lived to see this too." he heard, immediately seeing that it was you at the door. "are you reading?" you asked, laying down on the bed next to him.

"let's say. i was curious why you like it so much." Rafael answered, leaving the book on the bedside table and taking you in his arms.

"and did you like it?"

he didn't say anything, taking his face into the crack between your shoulder and neck, inhaling the aroma of your body. he didn't want to admit that he liked the book, being too ashamed to tell you that now he understood why you liked it.

"so you like it." you said, laughing lightly.

"no. I'm better."

© 2024 gr1mstar — all rights reserved. please do not copy, modify, repost, translate, or claim my content as yours.

[vaguely-concerned]

To the ‘themes I am picking up on in Veilguard’ list, let's go ahead and add what I have a sneaking suspicion will actually turn out to be The theme:

— the world has changed and can never be as it was again.

— I have been changed and can never be who I was again.

— in this simple unavoidable truth there is endless grief and endless hope.

And I… may be getting a bit emotional about it haha. Let me show my work a bit: 

if da:o is a game about people who are already dead or half ghosts in some form (through societal forces, psychologically, functionally, literally, in body, through the joining etc.) coming together anyway to save the world from being swallowed by total nihilism and despair (symbolized by the blight) through the power of love and friendship and also this sword/potential heroic sacrifice that I found, da2 is a game about people who have lost their homes and been set adrift finding and building new homes in each other (while completely failing to save the world. also through the power of love and friendship. as well as years of petty bickering <3 we must imagine kirkwall if not happy then worth having been because the love was there the love was there and that's the only sanctifying force we can ever have in this doomed world and city of ours), and da:i is a game about old stabilizing-but-unjust comfortable lies vs. disruptive but potentially liberating uncomfortable truths, and the power of friendship to help us distinguish the one from the other and navigate through them...

folks… I'm starting to think that veilguard might be a game specifically about moving towards recovery and acceptance after trauma — about how even in this flawed, severed, scarred state, what is here right now is worth loving and worth caring for. even in an imperfect and impermanent world and self, there is worth and joy. and of course the first real tragedy — and threat — of Solas is that he just cannot find it in himself to accept this and move on, to let go of what was, the regret won’t let him go or he won’t let go of it. which means that even though on the surface it’s Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain (and the will to subjugate and violate they represent) who are the main villains, the real antagonistic force in this story beneath that is the Dread Wolf’s despair. A despair Rook must make an answer to by the end of the game, one way or another, compassionately or with righteous fury, triumphant or pyrrhic.

The world will change again and again and so will you — BUT the crucial element is that so will everyone else who exists along with you, you are fundamentally not alone in this existential truth. all we’ll ever have is each other and my god that is plenty, my god that is enough!!! Which is the second thing Solas just can’t accept, he keeps himself separate and completely alone out of an awful mix of fear and pride and feeling himself unworthy of anything else. Rook and the player want to save the world of Thedas because it’s where everyone we love lives, Solas wants to go back to the past because that’s the only neighbourhood where he can still visit those he loved — and the person he himself was, before. A very sympathetic and human instinct/trap to fall into when touched by trauma, I think, if only it wasn’t backed by godlike power, a fundamentally oppositional personality, and a catastrophic lack of therapy to make it literally everyone else’s problem too lol. It’s varric and solas’ banter about the man on the island and where meaning in a life comes from all over again, writ large and with detail work — and the added idea of ‘what if there are also other islands out there, though. With other people on them that you could find if you reach for each other’. Rook with the best of intentions has to make choices to which there are no perfect outcomes and live with what happens — and not cut themselves off from everyone else around them even when there is regret or shame. You get back up every day and you make a life with other people doing the same and you do your best, and that’s the only victory this world will give you. In the end, that is more than enough, that is essential. And I um. I love that. So much. It’s why some of the writing clumsiness on top can’t hurt me because this thematic spine is so solid and so beautiful to me. It’s DA2 all over again that way for me personally — I forgive this story for what it isn’t and couldn’t be, and I love it with my whole stupid open heart for what it actually is. Thank you for coming to my TED-talk and goodbye etc.      

(For my fellow TLT heads out there — you know what this story is reminding me of most of all, actually? It has some big Nona the Ninth vibes down there in the deep. It’s about… the horror and unspeakable beauty that can only be found in liminality, and the role of love in making that basic fact of existence bearable. And also even more unbearable at the same time. I'm so sorry.)

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

Reveal (Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)

-> in which you can’t seem to quell Celebrimbor’s suspicions, and he finally learns the true identity of you and your husband

Warnings: evil!reader who fakes an injury and licks the blood off Sauron’s hand just because, light choking while kissing, you and Sauron being creepy together in general

Note: Can be read as a part two to Jealousy, but works as a stand-alone as well. Also, I have to say I feel awful for Mirdania and Celebrimbor in the show, reader is only antagonistic towards them in this fic for the sake of the plot.

The hours drag by most tediously as you assist Celebrimbor in the making of the Nine. The silence is broken only by the occasional request or observation from him, and your impatience grows by the moment. But you sit there, helpful and obedient, as you have in all the years you spent in Eregion.

You only need to endure this a little longer. Soon, everything will change.

There is a small break in your dull routine, though, when Celebrimbor suddenly says your name. He seems a bit more alert than he has been of late, and you see that he is now staring at the floor rather than at the Ring he had been tinkering with.

“Yes, lord Celebrimbor?” you reply, polite as always.

“That mouse,” he says. “You see it, don’t you?”

You throw a brief glance in the direction he is pointing. “Yes.”

“It’s not the first time it’s been here,” Celebrimbor says. His tone and the pointed look he gives you make it seem like more of a question than a statement, one to which he expects a positive answer.

“Indeed not,” you confirm. “Should I call a rat catcher?”

“No, that’s not what I...” Celebrimbor shakes his head, standing and walking to a different table. “This candle here. It hasn’t burned an inch. For hours, I am certain. And the embers in the fire—”

“Because I have replaced them, my lord,” you say, quite casually.

“I never noticed.” He frowns in your direction, unconvinced. You give him a small smile.

“It’s my task, isn’t it? To aid you in performing yours,” you explain softly. “You were quite absorbed in your own work.”

“I...” Celebrimbor looks to the place he had indicated when speaking of the candle, blinking in confusion. “I—”

“Why don’t I...?” you cut him off, standing from your seat at the worktable. “Why don’t I go and send for something to eat? I believe we have missed breakfast by quite a few hours.”

For a moment, he seems as though he might protest. But the kindly encouraging expression on your face deters him in the end. “Very well,” he nods his consent. With a smile and a respectful nod, you take your leave.

Your expression is anything but respectful, however, the moment you are out of his sight.

“A mouse,” you mutter to yourself as you descend the stairs to the bottom of the tower. “He had to invent a mouse.”

By ‘he’, you mean Sauron, of course. He may have many names, but to you he is, first and foremost, your husband. Long have you awaited his return, biding your time as one of Celebrimbor’s trusted smiths. Until, finally, your love had joined you in Eregion, posing first as Halbrand, then as Annatar. You had pretended not to know him, of course, only stealing moments of passion whenever you found yourself away from prying eyes. The ears have done nothing to diminish your craving for each other. Your bond is as strong as ever, your goals perfectly aligned.

There is only a small inconvenience to your shared plans now. When you bound yourselves to one another in marriage, those vows had a certain, mutually agreed upon effect. He could not use his power to deceive your perception, while you, in turn, received a part of his abilities—which you could not, however, use against him. As such, you can’t see the illusion Sauron has created for Celebrimbor, and can only hope to improvise correctly when the need arises. Had you noticed the discrepancies, you would have informed your husband of them long ago.

But it isn’t too late.

Chaos greets you the moment you take a look beyond the door that leads outside. Stone walls are being shattered by boulders flung from across the river, Elves are running every which way. What truly disturbs you, though, is the fact that your husband is talking to the Elf called Mirdania—again. And again, she is looking up at him with wide, doe eyes, practically begging for the slightest touch of comfort from him. Reaching out with your heightened senses, you hear what they are saying from a distance.

“Celebrimbor’s mind is gone,” Sauron says, sounding the perfect amount of regretful. “We are alone.”

Mirdania shakes her head. “No,” she says, full of sentiment. “Not alone.”

She puts her hands on his arms, tentatively lowering them to his wrists as if she hopes he might move to hold them in his own. It would be irritating if it wasn’t so pitiful. How he keeps his arms firmly planted at his sides while she searches his face for a sign of hope he might share in her feelings.

It would be an act of kindness, really, if you think about it—to open her eyes to the reality of things, once and for all. For now, though, you decide to put a stopper in this unbridled hope of hers without completely shattering the illusion. If only for a bit of personal satisfaction. You do still need her well within your husband’s power after all, same as the other Elves of Eregion.

Now, you may not be able to lock someone inside their own personal illusion, but you can alter your own appearance to the eyes of others. With a bit of concentration, your hand becomes covered in blood and your dress stained with it. You don’t need powers to make tears stream down your cheeks in an instant—your years of expertise in deception are enough for that. Holding your supposedly injured hand to your chest, you rush desperately towards Sauron and Mirdania.

“Lord Annatar!” you cry out. Mirdania quickly releases him as he turns towards you in haste, brow deeply creased with the concern he plays so well. “Lord Annatar, you must come quick! Lord Celebrimbor has—” you hesitate, glancing at Mirdania unsurely.

“It’s all right,” he says, understanding at once. “She knows of his state. Tell me, has he done this?”

He reaches for your bloodied hand, cradling it gently as he speaks. You see Mirdania avert her gaze uncomfortably, and—there. That’s better.

You suppress a smirk as you look up into Sauron’s eyes, nodding with the most helpless expression you can muster.

“He wasn’t pleased with the manner in which I was using the hammer. He-he snatched it from my hand to do it himself, and I don’t think he meant to do it, I truly don’t, but I didn’t manage to pull my hand away before—”

You dissolve into sobs, letting yourself fall against him as if you can’t stand on your own any longer. “Please, you must speak some sense into him,” you whimper into his chest as he wraps his arms around you for support. “I cannot bear it any longer!”

“Mirdania,” he says sternly, “you know my orders. See to it that they are followed.”

“Of course, my lord,” she promises, and promptly leaves. Maybe she looks pained because her city is under siege and its supposed leader has gone mad, as far as she knows. Most likely, that is the main reason. But you like to think a small part of it is seeing the object of her foolish affections holding his one true wife to his chest—even if she doesn’t know that is what you are.

You and Sauron keep up the charade for as long as you are visible to others, with you leaning against him as he leads you inside. Once the door has closed behind you, your tears and blood vanish as if they had never been there, and self-satisfaction replaces the feigned despair on your face. Your husband, however, doesn’t seem quite as pleased as he unceremoniously releases you to stand on your own.

“Must you be so dramatic?”

You smile sweetly up at him. “Would you love me if I wasn’t?”

“Depends,” he says coyly, “on whether you were still as wonderfully cruel as you are.” You delight in his compliment, but he grows serious once again. However enjoyable your twisted version of flirting, this is not the time for it. “What is it, really?”

You cross your arms with a small sigh. The fun was nice while it lasted. “You’re growing careless, and Celebrimbor is starting to notice. Apparently, there’s a mouse that keeps running in the same circle over and over, or something of the sort. And the candles never seem to burn out.” You tilt your head disapprovingly. “Really, it’s as though you’re barely trying.”

Sauron narrows his eyes slightly, but remains calm in the face of your teasing. “We are under siege, my love—”

“Which you orchestrated—”

“Still,” he insists firmly, “I was otherwise preoccupied.”

You might have made a snide remarked about who he had been preoccupied with—but a great rumble comes from outside, catching your attention and leading you to head for the window. The view that greets you draws a gasp from you.

“Is that—?”

“Yes,” Sauron says, watching the mountain crumble. “They are damming the river.”

“Just as you expected,” you say. After all this time, your husband’s cunning still leaves you in awe when you see his plans come together so smoothly. Or at least smoothly enough—the Rings are yet to be finished. “But we need more time.”

“Tell them to prepare for ground assault—my orders.” Your eyes meet, his as determined as yours. “I shall deal with Celebrimbor, then leave him under your watch once more.”

“You truly are cruel,” you lament. “You’d have me sit still and play the obedient little smith whilst there is a perfectly good siege right outside.”

The ghost of a smile tugs at Sauron’s lips. “I would much rather stand in the midst of chaos with you at my side,” he confesses, his arm sneaking around your waist to pull you close, “but we must practice patience before we indulge in its reward.”

His voice is low and suggestive, drenched with lurid promises. His gaze is just the same, and desire washes over you with enough force to break any dam in existence.

“Keep looking at me like that,” you say, turning towards him fully and leaning in close enough for your breath to ghost his lips, “and the chaos shall have to unfold without us.”

A groan leaves his throat, right as he takes hold of yours and kisses your lips. The pressure on your neck is just right, only just enough to stake a claim and convey his greed for you in the most delicious way. You whimper into his mouth, grabbing his wrist, wishing that you could direct his hand to places more desperately in need of his touch. Yet you know this is going to be a short kiss, a parting kiss, and so it is. He leaves, as always, with a sliver of your soul caught between his teeth. But you don’t mind, because you know there is always an equal part of his soul, trapped under your thumb.

Right now, there is work to do.

Although, it seems his side of it doesn’t go quite as planned—because when you return to the forge a little while later, you open the door only to be nearly knocked down by a wildly panicked Celebrimbor who was in the midst of bolting out of the room.

“My lord!” you exclaim, catching him by the shoulders. “Where are you going in such haste?”

“We must run!” he cries out. “We must call the guards—!”

“But my lord—!” You hold fast, refusing to let him drag you along with him. Sauron, to your surprise, is merely standing next to Celebrimbor’s worktable, watching calmly.

“We have all been deceived!” he screams in your face, desperate to make you believe him. “This—all you see here—is but a prison of the mind. A trick!” He turn away, pointing an accusing finger at your husband. “He is Sauron! Look at his blood!”

You’ve seen his blood. You’ve seen it, clear as day, since the moment he cut his hand to replace the mithril that the Dwarves had refused to provide. But the fact that he’s now allowing Celebrimbor to see it himself...

Oh, finally.

Finally.

“His blood?” you ask, barely maintaining some semblance of your pretence as pure elation runs through you. “What of it?”

Celebrimbor practically shakes with frustration. “Don’t you see? It’s black as pitch!”

But when he looks back, Sauron is no longer there. In the blink of an eye, through a power unknown, he is now standing at your side, between Celebrimbor and the door. The smith gasps in terror when he notices, and stumbles backward. You, on the other hand, merely lower your gaze to Sauron’s bloodied hand.

“You’re right,” you muse, as if deeply intrigued by the sight. “It is black.”

Celebrimbor watches, locked in confusion, as you take Sauron’s hand with both of yours, tracing the open cut with a gentle finger. As Sauron allows you to do so, holding completely still as you lift his hand to your lips and—under Celebrimbor’s horrified gaze, you lick the palm of Sauron’s hand. Eyes closed, humming contently, as if the pitch-black blood is the sweetest liquor to have ever graced your tongue. Your eyes open slowly after, sinisterly drifting to Celebrimbor.

“Seems fine to me, though,” you taunt, wiping your thumb over the remnants of blood on your lips and licking that clean as well. No more masks of kindness, no more concealment of your true, twisted nature. You feel as though you’ve been loosed from a horribly tight shackle, and the sensation is divine.

Celebrimbor, on the other hand, seems like he is either about to faint, cry or throw up, in no particular order. “What...” he mumbles helplessly. “What?!”

“Easy, my love,” Sauron all but purrs, his clean hand caressing the back of your head as if to tame a newly awakened beast. “We would not want to disturb Lord Celebrimbor’s... sensibilities.”

“‘My love’?” Celebrimbor’s repeats in disbelief. “You... you’re one of my oldest collaborators—”

“And have you any idea how tedious it was,” you hiss, spitting out long-suppressed venom, “playing the devoted subject all this time? Obeying your orders, when I should have been the one giving them? I had half a mind to overthrow you and take Eregion for myself. But I knew my husband would need you, if ever he was to return.”

Celebrimbor’s eyes dart between you and Sauron, taking in the sight of you standing side by side—his loving hand at the nape of your neck, yours clasping his other hand like a most prized possession—and realization dawns on him. “All this time... you knew,” he murmurs, terror giving way to resignation. “It was all a lie. All a charade.”

Your face twists in a mockery of the concerned expression you had worn the day Halbrand had arrived in Eregion. “My lord, he appears to be hurt,” you repeat your own words from back then, the ones that had convinced Celebrimbor to finally allow him an audience despite Galadriel’s wishes. “My lord, the night is cold. Shall I bring him a shawl?” Cruel amusement mingles with the over-dramatism in your voice, a sickly sweet chuckle bubbling out of you at the end.

“She can be... overzealous, at times,” Sauron says, a subtle smile on his lips as his knuckles brush your cheek affectionately. “A most endearing quality.”

“No, this will not stand,” Celebrimbor mutters to himself. “This will not stand!” the poor Elf tries to convince himself as he musters the strength to rush past you and out the door, hoping to find salvation where there is none left. Sauron makes to go after him, but you tug at his hand to hold him back.

“No, let him go,” you insist with a sick kind of enthusiasm. “Just for a little while. Let him look the fool and do your work himself, for a change.”

Sauron turns back to you, persuaded for the moment. “Your heart has grown even blacker in my absence, love,” he remarks, gaze dark with admiration. You give a small shrug, pressing his hand flat against your chest so that his open cut stains the fabric of your dress, right over your heart.

“What matters the shade of it,” you murmur, “so long as it beats for you?”

His other hand cups your cheek with the kind of possessive reverence only he can convey. He leans to you, his tongue slowly swiping away a drop of his blood which had lingered at the corner of your mouth. Then, he puts his lips to your ear.

“Work now,” he whispers darkly, “play later.”

Previous fic with same reader -> Jealousy

Next fic with same reader -> Theatrics

[emthimofnight]

would the three failed siblings have different personalities if they were raised by sonic and shadow?, and if so what would their personalities be?

Oh, for sure! Being raised in a positive environment where they aren't pitted against one another would really bring out their best traits. 😁

Void

Eldest brother

Still has low empathy, but is better at relating to others and putting himself in their shoes.

Very logical. Thinks things through far more than his siblings. That being said, he is extremely impulsive when emotional.

The most morally gray out of his siblings, but is still considered a "hero". Shadow worries he is only playing the hero role because it gives him an excuse to fight.

... He really does like fighting.

Definitely the one to suggest murder before anyone else.

Bumps heads with Shadow. Shadow sees a lot of the things he doesn't like about himself in Void, and projects a lot of his personal baggage onto him.

Closer to Sonic, finds his presence to be calming and enjoyable. Sonic knows how to handle Shadow, and therefore better understands how to handle Void.

Patient, protective, but blunt. Will almost ALWAYS tell someone the cold, hard truth, even if it hurts them. There have been many times he's made one of his siblings cry for being "too mean." He doesn't see it that way.

The quietest and least disruptive of his siblings. Spends a lot of time reading.

Andromeda

Eldest sister

Can come across as bratty or vain, but loves her family deeply. Often can't decide if they are the most annoying people in the world, or her favorite.

Still very much a moody teenager, but the normal, non-traumatized amount.

Would be that pretty, popular older sister that Stellar wishes she was more like.

Prefers to stay out of fights, despite her power. Values her appearance greatly and would rather her perfectly preened quills didn't get disturbed. That being said, she has an explosive temper, and won't shy away from punching it out with someone who pisses her off.

Gets along great with Shadow for the most part, but when they disagree, their fights are infamously explosive. Sonic can do little to defuse an argument between the two of them once it has started, so he usually tells the other kids to make some popcorn.

That being said, she, Shadow, and Stellar would often go shopping or to the spa together!

Sonic, on the other hand, would be her favorite dad to chill and watch movies with!

Very protective of her siblings. That type of girl to tease and make fun of her family, but immediately turn on anyone else who does. Those are HER idiots, dammit!

Polarity

Youngest brother (but still older than Stellar!!)

Playful, witty, and clever. No one thinks of faster comebacks than he does!

A LOT like Sonic, but with a softer edge. Has less of his bold-faced confidence.

Sporty and active, but also a huge nerd. LOVES comic books!

Fastest runner out of his siblings, period.

Due to having a lot of the same interests, Sonic and Polarity would spend a lot of time together! The two of them would have a lot of inside jokes and running bits. Polarity would want to be just like him!

The most eager to be a great hero out of his siblings.

Despite his closeness with Sonic, he is not missing any love from Shadow. It would seem that all the things Shadow likes about Sonic, he likes about Polarity. Shadow clearly has a favorite between his two sons.

Polarity and Stellar are the only two people who know how to make Shadow laugh consistently.

Polarity and Stellar are also the most alike among the siblings! The two of them are super close. Unfortunately for Polarity, being around Stellar seems to make him dumber. There is only one brain cell between the two of them when they are left to their own devices.

His antagonistic relationship with Void isn't present here! The two of them get along fine, even if Polarity isn't particularly close to him. If anything, he wishes the two of them did more stuff together.

[silkenwinger]

cherry

mdni. one sided enemies to lovers (?) konig x reader. 5k something. part two here

You wish he would just disappear. That some way or another, you could get him out of your hair. Sure, there’s always leaving your job, but that’s not really convenient, is it.

You wish he was outright antagonistic, mean or just an asshole. Someone who abuses his power over underlings. A self centered idiot who can only think with his dick, who gets other people in danger for his pride.

Yet he’s none of that, and you have to cope with it. Which you are unable to do.

“This fucking thing— ugh!” Snarls Roze, still trying to set up the new tent as shown in the diagram. It falls over with a soft thump and she kicks it again.

“These have to be the wrong instructions,” you tell her, turning around the leaflet. You’ve been at it for more than half an hour now, and they usually don’t take this long. Still, better the dryness of the desert to find out there’s been a manufacturing mishap than pouring rain. KorTac has deployed you here before, which is why you know you can’t just wing it and sleep outside. The night chill is unbearable.

“C’mon. Let me try,” says Horangi, holding out an arm. For all his male pride, he comes to the same conclusion as you and Roze. You’re collectively scratching your heads when a shadow falls over you.

“What is the issue?” König asks, hands on his hips and sun behind him, like some sort of Superman figure. Ugh.

“It’s not setting up.”

“Let me see.” He grabs the leaflet from Horangi’s hands, looks at it for fifteen long seconds, returns it to him and crouches down to pick at the tent. It’s odd, seeing such a big man working on something small. Comical, you’d say.

He sets it up in seven minutes (timed), but admits the instructions could be clearer and less misleading. He rises up and claps his hands on his thighs.

“I used to do a lot of camping, ah-ha,” he says, thumbing at his stupid hood.

“Well, thank you König. We would be sleeping outside without you,” says Roze.

“Yeah man, thanks,” Horangi adds.

You can feel his eyes on you. Those blue eyes, always in such weird expressions. Maybe you would read him more easily if he didn’t have the mask. You don’t care anyway. You muster a little smile so you don’t read as completely sociopathic to the whole group, and he seems happy enough. But you’re not satisfied with him being the hero of the night.

“Camping, uh? Wasn’t it hard, with your height and all?” It’s meant to be a jab to his clear struggles with his size. Something that only really shows outside of the battlefield, you have to admit.

“No, not really. Eh, my parents are tall as well, we would always buy big tents. With friends… a bit. I slept outside once.” His voice is shy revealing this. From previous conversations, you know he wasn’t the most sociable boy in his school. Neither were you but you didn’t end up wearing odd masks.

The normal reaction would be to commiserate him, coddle him for the harsh events of his youth. You’re incapable of that.

“Must have been a pretty clear cut decision from all the others.”

You can feel the side-eye from Roze and Horangi through your head.

“Ahah, yes it was… I was taking two whole spaces for myself…” he says, sounding a bit sad and lost in memories.

“That’s not going to happen now, this is pretty roomy,” interrupts Horangi, and your session of tormenting your team leader is abruptly brought to an end. Pity, but maybe it’s better to keep this a little more private.

“Dibs on the first watch!” Roze yells, and you groan. She always gets it before anyone else!

König, Horangi and you play rock scissor paper to decide the other turn. You lose first and you pout slightly: you hate second watch more than anything. Shaking it off, you start to head to the side, but you're stopped by an arm in front of you.

“We can switch. If you want,” says König, who got the third watch. You crook an eyebrow at him. Does he think you're unprofessional, that you can't even do your job? The fucking gall.

“No thanks. I don’t need handouts,” you turn your nose up. Horangi scoffs, which makes you turn to glare at him. König has no real reaction, just murmurs something between himself. This time you really leave.

Hour later, peaking your head out of the tent door, you shiver at the difference in temperature. You hate missions without safe houses…

“Ah, nice. Slept well?” Greets Roze when she sees you. You shake your head.

“More of a nap than a night’s rest,” you sigh as you turn to sit down next to her. You suppose she’s not really sleepy, but anyway, you enjoy her company.

“Hey,” she calls your name. You hum to show her you’re paying attention.

“You know I respect you. You’re a great fighter,” you preen at that, “but what is up with that?” Your face falls at that.

“What are you talking about?”

“You and König, c’mon. You’re bullying the guy! And I’m always in favor of mistreating men, but then he doesn’t fight back at all, and it’s just pathetic to watch. What even is the satisfaction in that?” She sounds genuinely baffled. Panic rises in you: you never actually thought you’d get cornered like this.

“He irks me, okay?” You try to justify yourself as you shift in your seat. You haven’t really interrogated much on why you feel this way. You figured it was just a normal reaction to König himself, and everyone was just better at hiding it.

“Irks you… yeah, he isn’t the smoothest guy or anything, but you’d think he was Satan the way you describe him. He really just fights, eats, sleeps and talks with you and Horangi.” She sits with that for a moment and just looks at you, really looks at you. “Maybe you’ve got something going on, I think he’s quite fond of you actually.”

“Fond of me… Roze, what the fuck are you going on about?” You exclaim, on edge. It’s far too late (or early?) to really express yourself in any way that makes sense. “He probably feels the same way I do about him, which is annoyance. He can’t be that thick not to realize I’m being antagonistic.”

“Hmm, if you say so.” She gets up and pats your shoulder, tiredness showing up in her limbs. “It’s not really my business. See you tomorrow,” she waves as she enters the tent, dismissively. It’s like she saw you being too defensive and thought you were a lost cause…

Your watch is uneventful and boring and cold and you can’t stop thinking about what Roze told you. Recounting your experiences with König, you think back to the first time you met. It stings to say it, but you’d felt intimidated, shaking the hand of a man almost feet taller than you, clad in an executioner hood. His hand was a bit cold and clammy, which was in contrast with his appearance. The way he shook your hand was unusual too. Men in the military are quick to establish dominance– the sadistic ones grip women’s hands so hard, it almost feels like they’re trying to strangle them. König’s handshake was delicate, and his eyes were oddly wide. Far from what imagination could conjure about his figure.

Starting from when you were put under his command, you’d seen König make an ass out of himself pretty often. Never on the battlefield– he was akin to a god on there, his strides decisive, his bullets accurate, and his violence lavish. For that alone you’d never send in a request to change teams: you know what you leave but you don’t know what you’re going to find. The issues with König lay in that creepy high pitched tone of voice he has sometimes while narrating stories, or the way he appears to have zero space awareness while moving around base. You witnessed him hitting his head or side on door frames far too many times for comfort. In some ways, it kinda killed the respect you could have for him as a leader. But then you’d watch him clear a room in a few bloody seconds, and you’d have to give it to him again. Unfortunately. But it’s now apparent that you can’t cling to any justification that will make sense to other people without you sounding completely out of your mind or like a bitch. Which you can be.

Checking your watch, it’s indeed time to go back to sleep. König hasn’t shown up by himself, the oaf, so you need to go wake him up. Ugh…

Crouching, you enter the tent. Horangi is still snoring away, thankfully not too loudly. You get on your knees to move more quietly and crawl your way to the horizontal column on the back. It’s hard to see well in the darkness, but König feels oddly still in his cot. You’d think he trashed around in his sleep like he does when awake.

Once you reach him, you touch his shoulder, murmuring his callsign not too loudly. No reaction. You do it again, this time a bit stronger, and he still doesn’t wake up beside grumbling some incomprehensible gibberish. Already irritated, you grab him by both shoulders and shake him alright. You realize you’ve made a mistake only when your arms are being coiled by something so tight you think your blood flow has stopped. Loud breathing can be heard in the closeness of the space– it is right in front of you.

“König,” you whisper, “it’s me. I’ve come to wake you up.” If there’s any fear in your voice you hope your disgust still dominates it.

“Scheiße– sorry,” he says, voice thick with sleep, and you think he blinks or starts to understand where you two are. You relax a bit in his hold, shifting on your folded legs, and he finally realizes he’s still holding you.

“I’m sorry, sorry. I was dreaming,” his hands brush the sides of your arms before releasing you, as if appeasing a dog he accidentally stepped on. You scowl. He finally starts to move and sits up, his torso an even darker mountain in the obscurity.

“Are you going to sleep here?” He asks, voice high pitched, you’d say almost nervous as you move closer and don’t retreat to the other side of the tent. Your scowl gets deeper.

“I’m already here and they’re all the same size,” you say, taking your place in the cot. It’s comfortably tepid, to your pleasure. “It’s warm, too. You can sleep on mine when you’re done.” Considering the affair over, you bring the cover over your body and settle down. It smells a bit like him.

König is still crouching next to you: other than his breath, you can tell he’s there by the noise of his nails scratching up and down on his pants. Still not hearing him move, you raise your head.

“Aren’t you going outside?” Your tone could be meaner and more acidic, but drowsiness softens you, too.

“Yes… I’m going…” He sounds uncharacteristically reluctant, like he wants to oppose but knows he can’t. What, is watch duty too common for your team leader? You tut and turn over, and finally you hear him put his gloves on and walk outside.

You wake up to the sound of people speaking some hours after. Sighing, you get up, stretching away the ache from basically sleeping on the ground. It takes you a second to understand you’re not in your own bed and you’re in König’s instead. Getting up, you grab your utilities from your bed and exit the tent. In the makeshift camp, you see Roze and Horangi chattering away with instant coffee cups, and König working on his rifle. Roze sends you a charged look, to which you reply with a confused expression.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. That your new callsign?” She pokes at you, laughing.

You groan and walk over the coffee pot.

“Why didn't you wake me up?”

She shrugs, turning over in her thermal jacket. “We don’t have to be there before oh nine hundred. You can sleep on company time,” she finishes her coffee, throws the cup away and enters the tent again to dress up. You bite your lower lip and pour some for yourself, casually glancing over your male teammates. Horangi is just hovering, no doubt done with his preparations since he’s been awake for longer. König is still cleaning his rifle, and he hasn’t spared you a glance. You decide to fix that.

“You want to clean it so hard you can look at yourself during fights?” Snickering, you come up behind him. König slightly jumps, his hands clutching the rifle hard in order for it not to fall.

“Ahah, it was a bit filthy from yesterday. But now it’s clean,” he puts it down gently and carefully, always careful around guns. You look at him from behind your coffee cup. As always, it’s hard to tell what he’s feeling with the mask in the way, but he’s being particularly evasive today. To the point he hasn’t even looked you in the eye yet. Still, he turns to face you.

“What’s up with you today?” You ask him. You’re used to seeing him a little less down. If he isn’t feeling well, it could turn massively bad for all involved.

“Nothing. I hope the mission goes well.” He sounds more sure now. You shrug. His body moves as he stands up, and as always it unsettles you. But you refuse to address whatever that means, so you reply nonchalantly, “It seems pretty straightforward.”

“Ja…” He shuffles over his feet. You lean a bit over, wondering if he has anything else to say. He doesn’t, but he finally looks you in the eye: you keep looking at each other until Horangi speaks out of the blue and says it’s time to move. You turn abruptly and go join Roze in the tent.

It could have been over in a second. The building you were meant to go in, or what remains of it, has been reduced to a pile of burning debris, explosives turning it outside down. And you would have been none the wiser as it’d turn your guts out, too.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, and Horangi next to you urges you to move along, to follow König. König, who was the one to actively tell you and Horangi to not split from his command. You’d cringed, but followed him anyway, unkeen to disobey, and Horangi always listens to König anyway. And now you were alive because of a decision König made. Again.

Another successful assignment from KorTac. Please feel free to contact us again for any inquiry.

Looking outside the helo, you observe the silent dunes you’ve just left.

This always happens, you reason. Someone has a hunch. Another got a call from his grandma telling him not to go. You dream of a different path from the one that you’re supposed to take.

Why is König so good at this? It’s good that he’s good at this. You’d be missing your limbs otherwise. He sits across from you, knees brushing with yours. His eyes are glazed over, drowsy, hands folded together. An innocent visage, if one discards the blood over his clothes.

Ire crashes over you like waves. This fumbling man, almost stuck eternally in his adolescent, awkward state, is fucking great at his job. Far better than you could ever hope to be. Not only is he genetically built for hard conditions, but he’s also gifted with a natural sense for the battlefield and military tactics.

You’ve been thinking about him far too much lately. Looking at his back, at his incredibly toned legs. Torn between the long lasting distaste you’ve had for him and… whatever admiration you begrudgingly hold for him.

A light turns on in your mind.

That makes sense.

The Hungarian base is one of KorTac’s smallest. It’s usually bare from anything but the basic necessaries, and it has very few permanent workers. It’s the same case this time. The four of you and the pilot walk in a ghost town. One worker greets you like he had no idea you were even supposed to land there. They need to stop firing communication people in this company.

“König,” you muster a sweet tone, fighting the bile that comes up in your throat. König turns from walking with the others to face you, immediately alert.

“Can we go… somewhere private?” He freezes for a second, and then nods, eyes a bit wary. Fine. You honestly thought he’d be more hesitant. Maybe Roze does have a point.

You walk for a bit side to side and then open a random room in the corridor, furnished with just a long table and a number of chairs not appropriate for its length. You close the door and stand there, deciding you’re not going to sit. Yet?

Fuck, you don’t actually know how to go about this.

“So,” you start, “how do you think we’ve been getting along?” You ask, trying to test the waters.

“Ehm. Pretty good, I’d say,” he replies, accent thicker than usual. Your doe-like expression immediately changes to a skeptic one. You tilt your head, calculating.

“You don’t think I treat you a bit differently than the rest of our teammates?”

He looks around, like he knows this question is a trap. You’d be more annoyed if it wasn’t so fun to have him all for yourself to tease.

“I think we are friends… you get along more with Roze, but still…” He fidgets at his missing belt loop. Ah, goddamn, that’s another stupid thing about him, why can’t he put a belt on properly?

“Friends? We are friends to you?” You ask, tone clearly disbelieving.

“Yes… are we not…?” König’s voice is a whisper now, insecurity leaking over and filling the whole room. Oh Jesus. Now you really feel like a middle school bully.

“I think… that I kind of have a problem with you, König…” You tell him, weirdly meek. There’s no other way to go about it. You wish he had the same mixed feelings you obviously hold for him, but instead his are tragically simple and gentle minded… What a contrast from the cold, calculating man that saved your life this morning.

“What problem?”

“Nothing really… it’s just that you distract me… a little too much.”

“Distract you like how? Is it something I do?”

“Yes, but you can’t change anyway,” you confess. And, deep inside you, you don’t want him to change. Part of the reason you can’t stand König, after all, is how he embodies some part of you— the one not carefully curated to be as badass and hardhearted as possible, but one that instead just is, even if it’s uncool. You’ve desperately tried to hide it all this time, convinced it could only hinder you in your career– and then König shows up, and not only is he one of the best soldiers you’ve met in your life, but he’s also unapologetically himself all the time. And it doesn’t stop him from achieving anything.

This plan is stupid anyway. König doesn’t seem to be the man who agrees to casual sex. Hell, sometimes it doesn’t seem like he’s even aware of the concept.

“Maybe I’m the one that has to change teams… If we just can’t find a solution to this problem of mine…” This is bait: you could be more explicit, but maybe you really do need to change teams. You can’t be consumed by thoughts of your team leader, it’s just embarrassing. This sexual attraction (but also resentment) you hold for König can’t have you zone out in an active combat zone.

“No!” He says, voice loud and clear, his tone filled with panic. “Please… I…”

“You what?”

“I… I like you.” He confesses, eyes low. His hands are trembling a little.

Five seconds pass before you elaborate a reply to that.

“König, I treat you like shit!” The exclamation probably surprises you more than it does him.

“S-So?” He pants, what little of eyebrows you can see low, pupils dilated only a slight blue circle remains of his irids.

“So? How low is your confidence to like me when I insult you all the time?” You hiss, mere centimeters away from his face. How bad have his relationships with people been so far if he considers you a person worth liking?

You lower your eyes and see that his knees are bent in order to be closer to your height. If your mind wasn’t already made up, this would be the turning point. He follows your gaze down his body with his eyes and whimpers when your eyes lock on his bulge. Your little stress problem is going to get solved alright.

“You like me? Alright. We can go there, if you want. But remember, this is for me and my problem. Got it?” You point at his chest and he nods frantically at that, like he can’t believe this is really happening.

“Fine then. Take off your clothes.” You order, taking a step back and leaning your back on the absurdly long table. You’d make him remove his mask, but that feels like an additional step in intimacy you’re not sure you can ask of a man you claim to hate to the majority of people you know. And, most of all, you can’t force him. You’re out of bitterness for the day. It doesn’t mean that you’ll make it easy for him, though.

König clutches at his pants, taking one long leg out and then the other, remaining in his standard boxers, erection barely hidden behind them. He then moves to his jacket, which he drops to the ground, and then his compression shirt– his pecs are reddened by the blush you’re sure covers his whole neck and face. Your hand points down, and König immediately drops to the ground, so you can beckon him over with a slight gesture. He crawls over to you, stopping right in front of your booted feet.

You deeply enjoy ordering him around, so why stop now.

“Unhook my pants,” you tell him, “but don’t remove my panties yet.” He nods and brings his trembling hands to your belt, undoing it faster than expected, to then lower your pants to your ankles so he can move more comfortably between your legs.

“König,” you call out his name.

“Hmm?” he purrs, barely taking away his eyes from your clothed pussy. You think he’s been getting progressively closer.

“What are we going to do… with your mask?”

“Don’t worry,” he raises a thumbs up, like a huge fucking loser that you’re somehow attracted to, “I can manage.”

“Well then, manager,” you snark, irritated once again, “proceed. Eat me out.” He takes one hand off your leg to uncover his lower face– you only see a flash of it before it is hidden to you again.

He digs in, at first sniffing you, and then licking you through the cotton of your underwear. The warmth of his body is scorching in the chill air of the unused room. His tongue diligently brushes against your clit and slit until your gusset is soaked, and only then he moves them to the side to make direct contact with your pussy. You hiss as your elbow falls down on the table, your legs now spread open even further as he sucks on your clit. Apparently he does know what sex is.

“Can I use my fingers? Please?” He looks up, hood now covering him completely again.

“Hm… let me think on it…” you pretend to really ponder on it, and you see his eyes get bigger and wetter.

“Please!” he begs again.

“Alright, go ahead big guy,” you decide to throw in a compliment for his begging. After all, he’s being quite good. So much for the strict dominance.

His finger penetrates your entrance slowly at first, maybe afraid of going too fast. He takes his sweet time exploring, seeing which movements or spots really make you welp.

“Don’t get distracted now,” you tell him, kicking him lightly on his back with your heel. This is about you, not his curiosity. He straightens his back and starts licking you again, eager and enthusiastic. To think you’ve been just boiling over in your anger when you could have made good use of him.

You can feel your climax readily rising up, spurred by König’s slobbering care. Your hand reaches to keep him closer to you, and you think you can almost feel his hair under the hood. Longer than you expected. The mounting sensation and heat comes to a high and you come, strangled moan and head thrown on the table. König keeps licking and fingering you until you forcibly tear him apart from your pussy.

After the momentary bliss, there’s a moment there when you think about what you’re doing. If this is simply about getting off, the encounter can end here, even though you could be more satisfied. You’re not sure it’s only about that, though. König is panting in front of you when you raise your head, calm besides his breathing. You look at the sheer size of him, and think of his selflessness and his patience dealing with you. And then you look down at the stain of precum on his briefs and go what the hell, sure.

“Can I touch you?” You ask him, but before you can even finish the question he’s already saying yes yes yes.

Your hand brushes his bulge and he jolts, toes high. You scoff a little, entertained by his always so vivid reactions. When you take his impressive cock out, you give it an experimental jerk and see him jump even higher.

“God, König, keep it together, will you now?” You laugh derisively at him, to which he just grumbles a bit sadly.

“What do you want, huh? Want me to jerk you off? Want to fuck me?” You ask teasingly, getting even closer to his masked face and stroking his cock. Once again, he just mumbles. The still unresolved irritation rears its ugly head, and after squeezing his head until he yelps you let go of him.

“I’m not going to do anything if you don’t tell me. I’ve had it with your mumbling,” you snarl and cross your arms. König’s entire body animates and tightens at his panic, and his arms leave his sides to tentatively reach out to you.

“Y-You can do whatever you want to me.”

“Pathetic answer. Pick something, or I’m getting out of here and leaving you hard and leaking.” He finishes reaching out then, and grabs your hips softly, almost as if afraid of hurting you. One of your legs snakes around his.

“I want…” He starts, unsure and twitchy.

“You want?” You encourage him, squeezing his arm not so gently.

“... to fuck you.” He whispers, ashamed. You laugh in his face. He must come from a different planet, a different universe altogether. How can a man of his size be so submissive? It feels like an impossible combination, but you’re not complaining.

“Go ahead, then,” you tell him sweetly, and he nods only once this time, decisive. He grabs his dick then and reaches your entrance. Both of you are so soaked it’s almost effortless: his cock fills you and more, to the point the last inch of him takes more time and care. But you can almost feel him in your guts due to his length. König groans when settles inside you, and moves his arms to hold you in a lover’s embrace. You can feel his ragged breath next to your ear. A bit baffled, you move your arms to hold him too. The smell you inhale is the same you felt last night, so utterly him.

“Alright?” You whisper next to his ear, the soft brush of his hood on your cheek.

“Perfect… so hot…” he replies, squeezing you even harder. You sputter a bit at that, not expecting it, but squeeze back.

“You can start moving now.”

His first thrusts are uncertain and slow. You caress his mighty back to encourage him, and then your hand goes lower and you grab a handful of that ass. He gasps and you laugh again.

“You’re so big,” you tell him, “I don’t know how you even fit in me.” He straight up moans then, and drives so hard in you he almost knocks the wind out of you. Feeling him get more desperate, you sneak a hand between you to brush at your clit, helping yourself get there. König rushes when he feels you get tighter, and you have to hush him to calm him down.

“Just a bit more,” you tell him, “resist a bit more.” He just heaves as an answer.

He keeps a good pace, not too slow or too rushed, but when he starts jamming a little you know he’s close. He calls out your name, tone worried.

“I’m about to…” You grab him by the neck then, at least what you can hold, and he stills, in what is no doubt a great exercise of restraint. The torture could go on for longer, but all things considered he’s endured enough from you. Somewhere along the way this has stopped being about you and your problem, and has begun to be his as well.

“Let’s do it together,” you just whisper as you let go of him, hand going back to touch yourself. He mewls, this big puppy of a man, and you moan when his cock hits that special spot inside you. You come again, locking your legs around his waist, and he stutters and groans as he releases inside you, nosing at your neck. You swear you can feel his cum spilling out.

The two of you lay there for a moment, or two, or three. König’s face is still hidden in your neck, his back no doubt uncomfortable. He mouths something against your neck you don’t know how to decipher. Slowly, and reluctantly, you push at his shoulders. He rises then, and you immediately miss his heat and the feel of his body caging you in. Worst of all is when he takes his cock out of you– the gaping feeling is unbearable, coldness of the air hitting directly your tender core. König is looking at you like he doesn’t know what to do, which is exactly the case. You’re not so sure yourself. It’s the first time you sleep with a coworker you have a complicated relationship with.

“There’s the debrief…” you tell him, unconvinced. He knocks his head up, like you just reminded him, woken him from a spell.

You put your pants back on while König redresses. Looking at him, as those big muscles move and flex, you feel your desire for him rise again, but you’ve been gone for long enough. Roze and Horangi will already be suspicious.

Before you exit the room, you grab König by the arm. He takes a step closer to you, and you flex a bit on your toes to look at him in the eyes better. Moving your hand, you tenderly touch his face. He closes his eyes.

“König… you can’t let yourself be bullied all the time,” you brush his cheek through the mask and he leans on your hand.

“But I like when you tease me,” he says, head bowed. You giggle a bit at that.

“Then only I can do it, okay?”

He nods. You swear you can feel his smile through the cheap cotton of his mask.

[picaroroboto]

in book Wuthering Heights almost everyone is against Heathcliff from the moment he's adopted into the Earnshaw family, insisting that he's "of the devil" because he has darker skin and that him being quiet and sullen is further proof of being evil by nature. When he's mistreated and abused by people who are convinced that he's awful it becomes like a self-fulfilling prophecy when he grows up into a mean and spiteful person, like how you can't be surprised when a kicked dog bites back. The novel is sympathetic to him at times, but it's also told from the perspective of an older Nelly who's grown to hate him as he's gotten worse, and it's also very Victorian, from a time period where it was believed that being in poverty was a sign of moral failing. If you read it in modern times you end up looking at it with knowledge of how cycles of abuse work, and see Heathcliff's character from a sort of nature vs nurture angle. The Limbus version of Heathcliff is basically plucked from the midpoint of the novel before this transformation is complete, his character is in thematic dialogue with that of the original.

In Canto 6 all of the antagonists - Linton, Hindley, Nelly, and the Erlking - all criticize Heathcliff by telling him in different ways that he hasn't changed at all, that he is incapable of changing, that he is and always will be a wretch. The abuse has seeped into the extreme of the Erlking's absolute self-destructiveness, where he's convinced that it would be better if every Heathcliff didn't exist. But he has changed, or at least started to, even the fact that he's returned to Wuthering Heights to confront his past and continues moving forward past everyone trying to tear him down counts for something. At the risk of sounding too sappy our Heathcliff has got something that the book version and seemingly every other Mirror World version doesn't, and that's friends - friends whom he can count on to bring him back when he's out of control, and who are still holding out hope for him.

Canto 6 is also the work of someone who very clearly read and loved the novel looking at the text and asking "Could anything change?". Say, if Heathcliff had stuck around eavesdropping for one second more to that one conversation and heard Cathy saying how much she loved him - well, I suppose things would have turned out better but there wouldn't have been a second half of the story then, but you want to ask this question anyways because you care about the characters. In some ways Canto 6 like a very good fanfiction and not just because it's a secondary work, but because it's striving for a better outcome for the pairing while also having a strong understanding and appreciation for the original, carrying through it's ideas, imagery, and themes while also looking at them differently. And because it takes the concept of AUs seriously.

[the-music-maniac]

I get a little annoyed when people's complaints about zosan stray into the "Sanji would never fall for Zoro because of personal hygiene issues" territory. Mostly because I feel like it involves a fundamental misunderstanding about their dynamic and also Sanji as a character.

First of all, Sanji smokes cigarettes and cooks seafood and shit. Even if he does shower daily, there is no way he smells like a rose garden. So there's that.

Second of all, Sanji is a COOK. You literally cannot be a cook if you're afraid of getting your hands dirty, if you're afraid of working up a sweat. He knows the value of hard work in that regard. For his craft, Sanji gets all up in some fish guts, he hunts, he cleans, de-feathers, skins, butchers whatever creature they've managed to hunt - come on y'all. That is not a man that would be a germaphobe. He keeps his workspace and himself clean cause that's the mark of a good cook, but the man would have no qualms about getting dirty. He ain't squeamish.

Third, Sanji's entire thing is that he ACTS like a refined gentleman, but he's a little bit batshit crazy in the same way all the strawhats are. He's one of the monster trio for a reason! They're all freaking unhinged, Sanji's first reaction to seeing sea monsters is to yell that he wants to cook it. He's fought so many battles, I've no doubt that there's blood soaked into the soles of his fancy loafers, caked into some of the hems of his suit pants. My point being that while him acting like he's a gentleman with "refined tastes" is no means deception (he probably has excellent taste when it comes to dining) he also doesn't fit that description entirely. He strives for it, in order to maintain an image, and it also plays into his whole "ladies man" thing as well. But he's not actually a refined gentleman in our traditional interpretation of the word. He's down to slum it if needed, and will kick a person's ass for not finishing a soup that has a bug in it because it would mean wasting food. Also the man has worn orange crocs. Refined my ass.

Fourth, you can deny it all you want, but Zoro and Sanji have always been and will likely always be, two people that match each other's freak. And by that I mean that all it takes is Zoro muttering one little disparaging comment, and Sanji is immediately there, ready to throw down, dirt and sweat be damned. If he were to complain about Zoro's supposed bathing habits and shit, while I don't doubt some of it would be genuine complaint, it probably would mostly be because it would annoy Zoro. But when it comes down to stuff Sanji actually gives a shit about, hygiene would probably not be high up on that list. He is 100% that motherfucker that would get heart eyes over Zoro eating sugar onigiri out of the mud to spare a little girl's feelings.

I get annoyed by people using that argument as if it's a legitimate reasoning for why Zoro and Sanji wouldn't get together. Like what impression of Sanji do you have in your head? You think the dude that constantly knocks foreheads with Zoro during their antagonistic (gay) posturing would get squeamish about Zoro being a little sweaty? Sanji can be your babygirl if you want, but we gotta stop acting like he's the type to get squeamish over stuff like that - there's no way that out of ALL the issues Sanji has yet to work through locked up in that pretty noggin of his, that personal hygiene would be the hold up on a relationship between these two. The zosan dynamic is Sanji complains loudly about Zoro being a disgusting brute and then will turn around and roundhouse kick a man's head off. Like yes, Sanji. That's not the pot calling the kettle black at all.

None of this is a complaint btw. That's literally my favourite part about Sanji, and Zosan as a whole. Sanji wouldn't be nearly as interesting if he was just a gentleman. Zosan wouldn't be as compelling if they weren't two lil peas in a pod, equally as unhinged. The only difference is Zoro puts literally no effort into trying to hide his level of derangement. Which is also very in character for him, btw.