#here with more subpar bullshit

[0v3rcast]

Gnaw (5)

You drift in infinity, if only for a moment, in a place devoid of feeling. There is no heat or cold, no light or darkness, no life, no death. There is an overwhelming absence.

Hello, my maker, Says a voice into your ear.

Warm hands tug at your sleeve and turn you in place.

You make eye contact with a woman in perhaps her early twenties, wearing a simple black dress. She's somehow standing on the nothingness as if it's solid ground.

She gives you a smile.

I wish we'd have had any other way to meet. You a corpse, myself a stranger.

I am Nil. The Abyss Made Manifest. The first of your children. I'm sure you have no recollection of me from the... simulation of Teyvat. Genshin Impact, I believe they called it?

You nod, not quite sure what to say.

...or even if you can say anything, because this place probably doesn't have a way for your voice to travel.

She smiles, giving you a strangely abashed look.

Sorry. I'm not used to guests. Or anyone other than my children, the Abyssals. If I'd known you'd be coming, I'd have made you a chair or something.

You shrug. At this point, you'll settle for her not trying to maim you.

Which, in hindsight, is kind of pathetic to settle for.

She offers a hand. You take it, and she pulls you close for a brief hug before somehow sitting you down on a solid plane of nothingness, your legs dangling off the edge like you're both sitting on a pier.

I can't give you much help from here, and your body is much too feeble to sustain abyssal energies, but I've been putting you back together every time you die.

I know it hurts, and I know you probably don't want to be here if all it means is being miserable, but...

They know not what they do. To them, you're someone wearing their creator's face. And that's not a valid excuse for murder, but they're blind to the truth.

You don't understand. It's probably written all over your face, based on the sad, sympathetic look she gives you.

There's another you. Sort of. An unstable clone. Some alchemist made them when Khaenri'ah existed. They had been attempting to summon you and bind your soul to an immortal body so you could guide Teyvat as you did before. They managed to only summon a copy of your essence.

The elements and Celestia annihilated Khaenri'ah for playing with forces they had no right to control, and I devoured most of the survivors for supporting someone that was trying to pull you away from your rest.

You have many questions. And no way to ask them. She catches on.

Oh! Also, you can just talk in your head and I'll hear it. It's not quite telepathy, but you and I are closer than the elements are to you, since I was the first.

You ask why the people of Teyvat didn't kill them, or why the elements couldn't.

You didn't want us interfering with the world so directly. That's why you gave my siblings the ability to grant Visions and the Gnosis. So they could still shape the world and watch over the souls they cared for.

You didn't want them to rule Teyvat, or to terrorize it, so you set some limitations on them.

Let's just say vaporizing an entire civilization was the kind of thing that caused backlash, massively draining them. They've spent all the time since then regaining their strength.

As for the mortals, they were just happy to have who they thought was you back.

You ask what the past you was like.

I can't tell you that. You'll remember on your own time.

You tell her that's not helpful, and also kind of a dick move to get your hopes up like that. She giggles.

This you is much more feisty. I like that.

You ask for any advice she can give you, because you're pretty lost and more or less without a clue right now. She perks up a little.

You'll make some friends in Liyue. I promise. Not everyone on Teyvat is hostile.

She looks away awkwardly.

Just, um. Most of them. Sorry. And I can't tell you who.

You sigh. At least there's a chance for someone to not immediately murder you.

Our time is up for now. I'm sorry. The waking world calls for you.

You tell her that the two of you will meet again and give her a wink. She laughs.

(Her warm, bright laughter follows you up to the world above.)

You wake with a terrible pain in the neck, and a golden band around your throat where you were decapitated.

You're more than a bit pissed about having your head chopped off because of someone else that's wearing your face.

A shitty copy at that.

You hope you'll meet one of those friends you were promised soon, because right now there's very little attachment to Teyvat as a whole.

(You meet your new friend not even three minutes later when she trips over your prone form and drops all her herbs.)

You awkwardly stare at Qiqi, who stares back at you with a mildly perplexed look.

"You... are not familiar," she says, tilting her head slightly as if she was a curious puppy. "But you seem nice."

"I'd hope I seem nice. You're the first person to not immediately try and kill me." You say, defensively.

You think she looks concerned, but reading her face is... well, difficult. Since she's an undead and all.

She offers a hand to you, and with her help, you get back on your feet.

"Thanks, Qiqi," you say, and then immediately have an 'oh shit' because she hasn't even fucking introduced herself.

"Have we met?" She asks.

"Nope. You're just famous where I'm from," you hastily explain. "Lots of people like you and want to be your friend."

She seems to consider it, but about halfway through she forgets and stops caring.

"Do you want me to help you pick up your herbs?" You offer.

She nods.

Qiqi delicately retrieves the various plants that were in her basket, and you point out any she misses.

"Are you from Liyue?"

"No, I'm just passing through."

"...ah."

You have a sudden alarm ringing in the back of your head and hit the grass, grabbing Qiqi and yanking her down with you.

You give her a small smile. She smiles back and then seems surprised she can. Then her smile widens slightly as she smiles for the sake of smiling, too.

"I like you," she says simply, with all the confidence of a child zombie. "Would you like to be friends?"

"I'd like that." You say genuinely. "I don't have a lot of those here."

"Then we're friends," Qiqi says with all seriousness before pulling out a notebook. "I will write your name down so I always remember you are my friend."

An arrow covered in icy mist whizzes just barely over your head and explodes several yards away, freezing a large circle of grass.

"Fuck!" You hiss, looking up to see Ganyu in the distance.

The look on her face is nothing short of barely concealed hatred. Her face is nearly expressionless, but there's open aggression and hostility in her eyes.

If looks could kill, you'd be a smoking crater.

"Go, Qiqi," you urge gently, nudging the jiangshi in the back.

She may be a zombie child, but she is no fool, very clearly understanding what's about to occur.

She quickly makes herself scarce.

As soon as she's out of the way, your gift spins to life, and your hands crackle with arcs of electro.

Ganyu lets another arrow fly.

You launch towards her, the world slowing to a crawl as you accelerate, her arrow sluggishly spiraling by you.

Right as you're about to be in range with a weapon, she... disengages.

Leaving behind a fucking ice lotus.

A wash of pure cold carves into you, sapping your body heat and leaving you winded.

You manage to roll away from the lotus, but her next arrow gouges into your thigh. You cry out in pain, indigo blood oozing down your leg and staining your pants.

You slam into her shoulder-first with the aid of your gift, the two of you crashing into the dirt and grass with a brutal force that leaves Ganyu wheezing.

Her hands come up to grab your throat, her grip like iron and tighter than a vice.

You briefly claw at her wrists, but the edges of your vision are beginning to darken.

You reach out, grab a horn, and yank.

Snap.

Ganyu wails. Her hands instantly move from your throat as she scrambles back, clutching the bleeding stump of her left horn in one hand. She isn't even paying attention to you anymore, lost in the agony.

You gasp for breath, taking in deep lungfuls of air.

Ganyu doesn't move to re-engage. She seems to be having difficulty staying conscious.

When she stands, her legs are shaking, and her attempt to move in your direction ends with her toppling over.

It's likely her horns have nerves, given their nearness to her human brain, and who knows what kind of function they serve? Do they help her sense which way is upright or help her orientate her body?

Whatever the case, she's down by half and now struggling to keep her balance.

You pretend to throw the horn at her as a distraction tactic, and she scrambles for it, not quite realizing you never let it go.

You flee, the arrow still in your leg and sending bolts of searing agony through you, the Quilin horn clutched tight in your hand.

(You fall asleep beneath a tree, which begins to grow rapidly due to the blood oozing from your now-healed wounds. An Archon approaches your unconscious form.)

When you wake, it's to jeering. You're... on a boat near the Guyun Stone Forest. There's a crowd watching you from the docks and shorelines, spitting insults and calling for your death sentence to be hastened. You can only faintly hear them.

Your limbs are bound in heavy chain and weighted with dense iron locks.

Zhongli glares at you like you're nothing more than a particularly vile insect.

Ganyu keeps fidgeting with the band of gold holding her horn in place now. She seems unsteady on her feet, especially on this boat. She watches you with something between hostility and fear.

Ningguang snarls at you for a moment with raw hatred when you make eye contact, but she swiftly schools her expression into an icy glare.

Keqing doesn't bother to look at you.

Zhongli must not like the look you give them because he steps forward and backhands you so hard you pull something in your neck and lose a tooth.

How dare they do this to you?

Your lip is busted and throbbing with pain. You, in a fit of spite, spit your blood onto his boot.

You're swiftly tossed into the sea and immediately begin to drown.

Before the darkness can claim you, several stone spears pierce your torso and limbs and make you sink to the seafloor as if the stone was lead instead.

You are so very cold.

(The sea goes as still and flat as a sheet of glass.)

Your eyes open in the lightless depths of the ocean.

Before you lies an ancient, imprisoned serpent - Osial, the Overlord of the Vortex.

You lay next to one of his heads. A single massive eye is trained on you.

"...my creator?" He asks, hesitant. "Why - no, how - are you down here?"

"Morax."

His eyes narrow in anger. "Wretched lizard. Had I my freedom, I would skin him alive and offer his carcass as tribute to you."

You breathe out a sigh through the gills you didn't have before.

"I wouldn't stop you at this point." You murmur bitterly.

(You and Osial lay there in the darkness of the sea together, side by side, prisoners of the same Archon.)

((Taglist:

@the-dumber-scaramouche @thatdeadaquarius @ssak-i @imyme20 @fried-lotud @acacla @itz-luna @iruiji @crierofirony @itsredactedlove @sweetsthetik @leafanonsforest @oxyotl @kkazuyass @featuredtofu @resident-cryptid @d4y-dr3am3r @crimson-ashes @red1sg0n3 @the-real-fandom-person @code-roevember @yourlocalsourwolf @rhoswen-drake @minimari415 @reversearrowhead @call-me-shroom @evqnescents @valeriele3 @mochicurls21

[bunny584]

I just read your authors note on H&H. I’m so sorry that this happened. I don’t know why people have to be such trash. The world is a more disappointing place every single day.

That said, I completely understand and truly am sorry, and if you ever pick up writing these pieces again, I’ll be right here to cherish them and cheer you on.

You are so sweet 🤍

I’ve seen so many posts about other authors having their things translated / reposted on other sites etc and I have to earnestly say that they are so much better than I am.

When it comes to this? The disgusting, insidious grabby grabby fingers at artwork that is not your own. Chopping bits and pieces of work I cherish and bastardizing it with subpar bullshit — it’s offensive. I am not gracious. Nor am I kind

And I don’t like how nasty this kind of thing makes me so it’s best for everyone that I step back. Because right now my fire is not friendly and I would hate to get anyone else caught in the cross hairs.

Thank you for always reading and supporting my work, my love. People like you are the reason why I’m trying to have an ounce of decorum.

💕

[kumkaniudaku]

Champion

It's been a minute, ain't it? Trying to get back in the groove. Please, accept this peace offering.

In the dead of night, the backyard had become a raucous arena and mental prison all at once.

Moonlight and stars provided just enough light to illuminate the back half of the only basketball court in the neighborhood with someone crazy enough to put up shots hours before the sun would rise. Jayson’s face and hair caught a glow as he put up a half-hearted jump shot that loudly clunked off the back iron. He cursed to himself before trotting to retrieve the basketball. 

He was in an unimaginable slump. One tough game became three in a row then a full two weeks of subpar shooting numbers and growing frustration. Blaming his misfortune on a nagging wrist injury would make sense, but he didn’t want the sympathy. He wanted the win.

Across the short path leading to the house, you watched him talk his way through a reverse layup that kissed the rim but didn’t fall. 

“Fuck!” 

The ball was no match for his anger, receiving a hard bounce against the court before he regained control and tapped it against his forehead several times. 

You stopped short of the metal gate and cleared your throat to announce your presence. “You know you have an HOA right? Those quiet hour fines are steep.” 

“I’ll pay it. Wouldn’t be the first time.” He answered with his back turned to put up another missed shot. In frustration, he slapped the ball across the court before finally facing your sympathetic expression. He sighed. “I woke you up?” 

“No. I had a bad dream and came out for some air.” 

Jayson accepted your partial truth with a nod. He was too tired to press for more answers. The world was on his shoulders. The last thing he had energy for was extraneous conversation.

Taking a deep breath, he carefully lowered his long body to the ground. His knees rose just enough to support his elbows and heavy head in his hands. You watched him for a few extra moments before gently pushing open the gate to join him at center court. 

“It’s too cold for the future Finals MVP to be hooping in a tanktop. Here. ” Your arm extended to pass Jayson a sweatshirt in hopes that he’d accept your peace offering. He accepted with no protest, his eyes never looking away from some distant spot in the night.

You let him sulk without interrupting the quiet. A few years and a couple of fiery disagreements had taught you a valuable lesson in letting him sort his feelings before stepping in with advice.

Several minutes of silence passed before finally he scoffed to himself and looked up to the sky.  

“I give this shit everything I got. My heart, my body. Fuckin’ tears! None of this shit is working right now.” 

“Maybe you’re thinking too hard?”

“I just wanna fuckin’ win. You know that more than anybody. I’m fighting through this shit with my wrist, taking in all the feedback while trying to block all the bullshit and I’m hitting a brick wall every time I turn around. I don’t understand why I’m doing all this if, at the end of the day, I feel like I’m being blocked from what I know I deserve.”

You watched him quietly rub a tender spot at the base of his thumb before his eyes met yours. He was searching for answers and comfort or at least something to make sense of his personal hell.

“So, give up.”

Your matter-of-fact response made him snap his head in your direction. “What?”

“Give up. If it’s giving you this much grief and you aren’t feeling up to the challenge, give up. I won’t hold it against you.” 

“Man, you know I’m not doing that. I just…I don’t know. I needed to vent or something. I’m trying.”

“Aren’t we all,” you answered sympathetically. “But we do what we gotta do to get through the hard parts for what we love, right?” 

“Yeah, but does it have to be this hard?” 

“Would it be worth it if it wasn’t?” 

A short chuckle filled the air before he diverted his eyes to a spot beyond the court. 

“You can’t do the whole therapy thing for loved ones, remember? Get out my head before I call your dean.” 

“Okay! Fair enough. Can I at least say that I’m proud of you?”

Jayson finally broke eye contact with the distance to look in your eyes, prompting you to scoot closer to him until your bodies were touching. He allowed you to hook your arm in his and rest your weight against his forearm before he leaned down to kiss the top of your head. 

“This shit is tough,” you continued. “The late nights and long trips. The wear and tear on your body. Having to be somebody’s something at all times. Even the strongest person in the world would be exhausted. But you’re doing it. And a really fuckin’ good job at that. I’m proud of you. We’re all proud of you.” 

“Thank you.” His short sentence fell from his lips in a near whisper as he sat with your words. 

“But, when you’re at work, just be Jayson. Because, respectfully, nobody out there can touch you on your worst day. Except me, but that’s a different conversation.” 

Your misplaced confidence coaxed a loud laugh from Jayson that grew once you stood to take a defensive stance in front of him. 

“Man, what are you doing,” he asked, still amused by the sheer absurdity of you attempting to guard him.

“Oh, I’m funny to you? Check ball.” 

“Nah, go inside. You just got your nails done.” 

“So what! My girl makes house calls. Check ball, my boy. Hurry up before I get mad.” 

Jayson studied you for a second with a fond smile before taking the short jog across the court to retrieve his best friend and worst enemy. When he returned, you were still in a full-out defensive stance and ready to take on the challenge of guarding a man acclaimed as one of the best in his profession. 

He started his path toward the basket from half-court with slow dribbles and uncontrollable laughter while you swiped at the ball. 

“C’mon, now. I don’t want you to get hurt. You made your point.” 

“That’s crazy. I got a point but you don’t have no points. Does that make me the best player in the world or…?” 

“Woooow.”

A competitive fire burned behind his eyes as he sized you up and planned his next move. For a moment, you were able to shuffle your feet just enough to keep up with his probing attack. It didn’t take long for Jayson to sense a shift in your intensity and capitalize on your lack of speed. 

One quick step drove left you slightly off balance, giving him enough space to put up a stepback three that caused the net to make a loud pop once the ball went through. 

“JT FOR THREEEEEEE!” 

He held his shooting hand in the air for an extra second with his eyes closed to soak in your impression of the in-arena announcement. It’d been a while since he’d heard those words. 

When he finally turned back to look at you, he caught your knowing smile as you folded your arms across your chest in preparation for the inevitable. 

“Just, like, 30 minutes. I promise. You can time me!” 

“Mhmm. Make sure you take a shower before you get back in bed.” 

“You gone be up when I get in?” 

His question came with raised eyebrows and a few steps forward to wrap you in a sweaty hug. You relished the tickle of his beard against your neck between quick kisses before playfully pushing him away. 

“Nuh uh. Lock in. I’ll still be here when the work is done.” 

“Can I hold you to that?” 

“You know I’m good for it.” 

A cheeky wink initiated your shared handshake and signaled that your promise was sealed no matter what. Before he could lull you back into a hug and prolong the moment, a stiff breeze woke all six of your senses and forced a loud shriek in response. 

“Oh hell no. I’ll be rooting for you from the house. Keep shooting!”

Jayson watched you nearly sprint across the backyard with the ball tucked under his arm and a smile so goofy it’d be embarrassing if his friends caught him. Not willing to see you go just yet, he cupped his hands around his mouth to bid you a final good night. 

“THANKS, COACH! I LOVE YOU!”

Stopping at the back door, you returned the gesture. “I LOVE YOU! JVP! JVP! JVP!”

“THAT AIN’T IT! TRY AGAIN.”

“JUST KEEP REPEATING IT. IT’LL WORK, I PROMISE!” 

Once you were inside, silence blanketed the backyard again. This time, instead of racing thoughts, Jayson found a stillness as he bounced the ball between his legs. One dribble turned into another and another until he completed a crossover and midrange shot. Shot after shot hit the bottom of the net with crisp snaps.

When his legs grew exhausted, he stepped up to the free-throw line to complete his impromptu workout. 

He took a few deep breaths and focused his eyes on the rim with a soft chant on replay under his breath. 

-----------------------------

“This is absolutely incredible. When it looked like his team was on the brink of another Game 7, Jayson Tatum took over the game and delivered the Boston Celtics their first NBA Championship since 2008. The Larry O’Brien trophy is back in Beantown.”

“He’s the future of the league. One of the best, if not THE best small forward in the NBA right now.” 

“He's not the future, Jeff. He's the right here and now. Humbly he’s one of the best players in the world. Mama, there goes that man.”

Green and white confetti rained down from the rafters, completely covering fans celebrating in the stands. Players on the court threw themselves onto one another to share the euphoria of the moment. Six games and four hard-fought quarters had led them to the ultimate goal.  

Jayson stood at center court with his arms stretched and head tilted to the sky while he screamed at nothing in particular. His head felt light with pure excitement and fragmented replays of the last 48 minutes. 

Finally, he’d completed the mission. 

As reality began to rush through his blood, his eyes frantically searched for familiar faces in the crowd rushing toward him. The full breadth of excitement couldn’t be released until the ones he cherished most were within arms reach. He ignored every instance of his name being called in favor of pushing through the bodies littered across the space. 

His family greeted him first, led by his mother beaming with pride. You quietly stood to the side for an up-close view of the small celebration. Tears and laughter became muffled in the loud environment but the love was unmistakable. 

When he finally directed his attention in your direction, a rush of heat made your ears and arms tingle. Sudden shyness made you laugh nervously and tug at your jersey during his short journey to where you stood. 

Jokingly, he leaned down and rubbed his sweaty forehead against yours. 

“You did it,” you gushed. “You fuckin’ did it.” 

“JVP,” he questioned with a silly smile.

“Oh, don’t make me do it. Because you know I’ll do it.” 

Jayson’s laughter bellowed deep before he threw his head back for another triumphant scream. His joy felt like permission for others to join with no restrictions.

Stepping back, you accepted the invitation and began your new favorite chant. Participation started with a slow build. Others joined one by one then in small groups until the buzz had spread to the nosebleeds. 

Standing in the center of it all, Jayson took a slow look at all the faces around him with pride swelling in his chest. 

He was over the hump. Across the finish line. Atop the proverbial mountain.

A champion at last.

[munson-blurbs]

Kinkmas Day 10 (Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), unprotected p in v (wrap it up), public sex (obviously), one-night stand, cheating, some degradation

WC: 1.3k

Kinkmas 2022 Masterlist

--

Office holiday parties were always the worst. Cheap booze and subpar food, being surrounded by your coworkers after work hours, and the inevitable drunk, balding creep who tried to make small talk with the hopes of getting in your pants. If you weren’t gunning for a big promotion, you would’ve skipped it for a night of…anything else.

But after a grueling two hours of pretending to care about your boss’s third wife’s pregnancy, you had to excuse yourself outside for a cigarette. You inhale the smoke, trying to ignore the chill biting at your fingertips as you feel your shoulders untense and your body relax. The tranquility is only disrupted by a gruff voice hissing swear words just twenty feet from you.

“Light, goddammit!” a young man, probably around your age, is fumbling with his lighter. It gives a small spark but dies out too quickly for him to take a strong drag. He notices you glancing at him, and gives you a small smirk. “Hey, baby,” he drawls, walking towards you with his unlit cigarette, “could you light me up?”

“‘M not your baby,” you scowl, exhaling a cloud of smoke in his direction. “Maybe try that again without the nickname, and I’ll listen.”

The guy sighs, crossing his arms over his chest before relenting. “Fine. Could you pretty please light me up?” he asks. You roll your eyes but oblige, feeling his body heat radiate as he leans into you.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, standing next to you while he smokes. “Couldn’t take any more of that bullshit in there.”

You don’t really want to engage in conversation, but this party is for all of the Indiana branches, and this random guy could be the CEO’s son for all you know. “Yeah, I had to escape,” you offer, flicking ashes to the ground. “What, uh, what branch do you work for?”

“I’m in Hawkins…basically, Bumblefuck, Indiana,” he explains. “You?”

“Indianapolis, but I’m hoping to get a promotion that’ll take me out to California.” You stomp out your cigarette under your heels and promptly light another. It’s that kind of night. “That’s the only reason I showed my face here.”

The guy’s eyebrows raise. “No shit!” he exclaims. “I was born and raised in California. Moved to this shithole state when I was 17.”

Lacking the patience to listen to his life story, you quickly change the subject. “So what brings you to the party of the year in this shithole state?” Your voice drips with sarcasm.

“Kissing ass for a raise,” he explains with a shrug. “My girlfriend keeps buggin’ me for a ring, so I figured I might as well get her off my back.”

“You have a girlfriend and you’re out here calling other women ‘baby’?” you question him, finally allowing yourself to get a better look. His blue eyes are striking, and he has soft blond curls that are begging to be pulled. His thick bicep is prominent through the confines of his button-down shirt. Definitely better looking than the middle-age pervs stumbling around inside.

He gives a sadistic chuckle. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?” He nods at your cigarette. “Y’goin’ back inside after that one?”

“Do you have any better ideas?” You keep your tone salacious, trying to match his. Maybe it’s the three vodka tonics you’d downed earlier, but you find yourself very attracted to this mystery man.

He takes your hand in his; his grip is strong. He pulls you to an empty alleyway and leans you against the brick of the building. “Tell me,” he murmurs against your lips, “do you normally fuck strangers where anyone can walk by and see you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you reply snarkily, hooking your forefinger into the waist of his pants and bringing his body flush against yours. His tongue glides between your lips hungrily, making you moan softly. He gives a cocky smirk at your reaction, and you bite his lower lip and tug, eliciting a groan from him. “Two can play this game, baby.”

He pulls away and shoots you an amused look. “Oh, so you can call me ‘baby’?” He bunches up your skin-tight dress around your hips and lets out an exasperated sigh at your red panties. “If you’re gonna do that, then I’m gonna do this.” He takes his thick fingers and rips the lace easily, tucking the ruined panties into his back pocket. “Oops, sorry.” But you both know that this was no accident, and he’s not the least bit apologetic.

Your hands fly to his belt, easily unbuckling it before fidgeting with his button and zipper. You pull him out of his boxer briefs, and he inhales sharply at your touch. “Spit on it,” he orders, and you lean over, leaving a trail of saliva on his cock. You wrap your hands around his length and slide it up and down, while he occupies himself by sucking bruises on your exposed breasts. “You’re such a dirty whore, arentcha?” he growls. “And you’re gonna take my cock so nicely. You just wanna be stuffed full of me, don’t you?”

“Easy there,” you whisper in his ear, nipping at the lobe. “I’m not sure you can handle me.” You speed up your pace, running your thumb over his slit each time you graze over his mushroom tip. “I bet I could make you cum in my hand, you pathetic little man.”

“Nothin’ about me is little, baby,” he huffs, fucking into your fist harder. You don’t even bother to correct him this time. He withdraws from your grip suddenly, and you crack a smile when you realize you were right; he was about to finish before he even got inside you. 

Hoisting you up slightly, he lines himself up with your hole and pushes in. He doesn’t try to be gentle, and you don’t want him to be. He thrusts into you, gripping your hips harshly. The sandpaper texture of the bricks scratches at your back, but the overwhelming feeling of your pussy practically splitting open on his cock detracts from that pain.

“Feels s’good,” you slur, wrapping your legs around his lithe waist. 

He bucks up into you, making you cry out so loudly that it’s nearly a scream. “Say my name,” he instructs, and for the first time tonight, your face flushes pink with embarrassment. You don’t even know his fucking name. 

It’s like he’s reading your mind, because he blurts out, “It--it’s Billy. Say it, fuck, please.”

“Billy,” you moan, grabbing onto his muscular arms and clenching around him. He’s slamming into you, desperate to cum. “Need you to play with my clit while you fuck me.”

His fingers snake down to your sensitive bundle, rubbing it at the same rhythm as his hips snap back and forth. The pressure is enough to bring you to your release. “Billy, I’m gonna cum for you. Just d-don’t stop.”

He grunts and nods, but you have a feeling he can’t last much longer. His cock twitches inside you, and your orgasm ignites your whole body in a wave of pleasure. You moan his name over and over until he’s spilling inside you. His cum drips down your thighs when he withdraws, and he fishes your torn panties from his pocket and wipes up his mess. 

“I believe these belong to you.” He places them in your hand, and you shove the evidence in your purse. “And I don’t think I ever got your name.”

You smooth down your dress and fix your hair. “You don’t need to,” you reply snidely, not bothering to tamper down your arrogance. “Have a good night, Billy.” You start back towards the party before pausing to add, “Hope your girlfriend likes that ring.”

--

[nsfwflint]

Are you still on hiatus? Think it'll last longer?

Sorry to disappoint but I'm retired, not on hiatus. While there were a few times over the last 9 or months since I announced my retirement where I thought maybe I'd get back into writing, the truth is that outside of the anniversary piece that I literally had to force myself to finish that resulted it being extremely subpar, I've written like maybe 1k words. I thought about maybe trying to put out a Christmas themed piece that I had started a long time ago, but I'm gonna be completely honest.

I just flat-out haven't wanted to write. I haven't opened any of my drafts in months and quite frankly, I currently have no desire to. I currently have zero interest in writing anything.

That being said, I know how I am, and I know that I'm a fickle dude. So I'm not going to say I'll NEVER write again because never say never. I'm just saying don't hold your breath.

But don't worry, I don't have any intentions of deleting any of my posts or anything. My masterlist isn't going to be going anywhere. It's just that this blog is now more about simping and subjecting the 9000ish followers here to whatever other random bullshit I want to post about (usually sports and gunpla).

[ezzydean]

steter into stetopher fluff I wrote for @cattatonically my teen wolf partner-in-crime 1100ish words, rated T for language (as usual with me) fluffy floofy fluff

If there was one thing that Stiles has learned in all his years on this earth it’s that he doesn’t know everything.  He likes to pretend he does.  He likes to have his fingers in enough pies and whatnot that he at least sounds like he knows what he’s talking about.  He has books and podcasts and social media accounts.  Contacts and clients.  

He knows things.  He knows a lot of things.

He doesn’t know how to handle this, though.

He’s just finally understanding how to handle the whole being in a committed relationship with someone who doesn’t think that Doritos and frozen pizza is a home cooked meal.  Not that his other relationships were bad.  This is just his first one since college, really.  It’s a good relationship.  A solid one.  One he doesn’t want to mess up.

So the fact that he’s sharing a home cooked meal with someone who isn’t technically part of the relationship feels a little weird.  Mostly because it’s not just a ‘hey I happened to be cooking tonight and you stopped by’ meal.  Or even a ‘hey thanks for helping with that thing’ meal.  No.  This was Chris inviting him over with the purpose of making a meal for him.

Oh sure it was originally supposed to be for Stiles and Peter both.  Which changed the odd factor a tiny bit considering Peter and Chris are basically best friends.  But then Peter got stuck on a call with Sweden of all places — and Stiles would call bullshit considering Sweden is something like nine hours ahead of them but he knows how Emelie is and a 2AM call isn’t actually that out of character for her — and so Stiles is here.  In Chris’ apartment.  Eating a ridiculously good meal simply because Chris had wanted to make a meal for Stiles and Peter.

They laugh about how much Peter is going to hate the fact he has to eat leftovers if he wants any.  They sip wine that Stiles enjoys but he knows Chris bought mostly for Peter.  They eat ice cream that Peter would have enjoyed but Stiles knows Chris bought specifically for him.  They clear the table together and Stiles argues his way into getting Chris to let him help with dishes.

Stiles falls asleep on the couch halfway through the movie they start after dinner and wakes up to the sound of Peter in the kitchen grumbling about how subpar leftovers are when compared to the original meal.  Chris grumbles something in reply and shuffles out of the kitchen back to his bedroom.  A few minutes later Peter settles on the couch and pulls Stiles’ feet into his lap before restarting the movie.  He makes it about as far this time as he did the first before he falls asleep.

—

“I have a question for you.”

Stiles looks up at Peter for a second and then goes back to the book he’s reading.

“Okay.  Go for it.”

“Do you think Christopher would like this?”

Stiles looks up again and squints at Peter’s phone, eyes darting between the screen and Peter’s face a few times.

“Kittens,” he says, turning back to his book again.

“Kit- what?”  Peter twists his hand to look at his phone.  “That’s not a kitten, Stiles.”

“I never said I was going to answer your question, Peter.  Besides.  He’s your best friend.  How the hell would I know better than you if he would like something?”

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with him lately.  I thought you might have some insight.”

Stiles rolls his eyes.  “Don’t take your weird misplaced jealousy out on me.”

“What are you even talking about?”  Peter scowls at him.  “I am not jealous.”

“And cows don’t shit in the pasture.”

“Excuse me?”

Stiles shuts his book and drops it on the couch.

“You’re jealous,” he says.  “You’re jealous and you can’t figure out which one of us you’re jealous of.  If you’re jealous that I’m spending more time with Chris or that he’s getting to spend time with me.”

“That’s preposterous.”

Stiles shrugs.  “That’s just the way the cookie is crumbling, love.”

Peter stares at him for a few seconds before looking down at his phone again.  “I’m not fond of these cookies, Stiles.  Not at all.”

He watches Peter scrolls angrily for a few minutes before he sighs softly and pushes himself off the couch.  Peter grumbles and grouches when Stiles flops into his lap and wriggles around until Peter wraps his arm around him and settles him in place.

“We can always make other cookies,” Stiles offers as he runs his fingers up and down Peter’s arm.  “Together.”

Stiles reaches down and types something into the search bar.

Peter hums contemplatively.  “Together then.”

—

The door to Chris’ apartment swings open and Stiles grins.

“Hey, Chris.”

“Hi, Stiles.”  Chris looks past his shoulder.  “Hello, Peter.”

“Christopher,” Peter greets politely.

“I’m going in,” Stiles whispers loudly as he ducks under Chris’ arm and toes off his shoes before making a beeline to the kitchen.  “We’re clear, Peter,” he shouts back.

“Do I even want to know?” Chris asks as he steps back and waves Peter inside.

“It was mostly Stiles’ idea.  So.  Probably not.”

Chris shakes his head, holding his hand out for Peter’s coat and hanging it in the closet as Peter slips out of his own shoes.

Stiles isn’t in the kitchen when they get there.  They find him out on the balcony in Chris’ chair looking up at the sky.  Peter steps out and kisses Stiles’ forehead and then slips past Chris and back inside.  Chris watches Stiles, listening to Peter puttering around inside, until Stiles looks over his shoulder and smiles.

“Go on,” Stiles says.  “He misses you.  Spend some time with your bestie.  Bake a cake.  Make out.  Stare longingly into each other’s eyes for a bit.  Whatever.  Just pay him some attention.”

Chris holds his gaze until Stiles looks back up to the sky.

“Pay him some attention, huh?”

“Yeah,” Stiles laughs softly.  “Then when you’ve had your fill of him let me know and I’ll come in.”

“Could be awhile.  I’ve been dealing  with him for years.  I’ve built up a pretty good immunity for time spent in Peter’s company.”

“I’ll be waiting.”  Stiles reaches out for Chris and tangles their fingers together when Chris reaches out in return.  “I’m not in any hurry.”

Chris bends down to press a kiss to Stiles’ knuckles.

“I won’t keep you waiting too long.”  Chris kisses Stiles’ knuckles again and straightens.  “Promise.”

Stiles still isn’t entirely sure where they’re all going with this.  But that’s okay with him.  Because he knows he has both of them with him for the journey.

[deni-means-flor]

Duskwood & Moonvale

The highly anticipated sequel that is utter disappointment.

By: Dení 💜

Hey everyone, remember how I spent about 2 or 3 years singing my high praise for Everbyte Studios and Duskwood (which you can read all about here) and I was so excited for the release of Moonvale, the non-direct sequel set on the same universe?

Yeah? Well, scratch that. While it is too early for me to put a Cultural Studies spin on this review, since the game was released just last week, there's A LOT for us to unpack here, please join me during this first look at Everbyte Studios' Moonvale, out now for Google Play & App Store. And of course, beware for ⚠️ MASSIVE SPOILERS ⚠️ on the course of this text

To start off strong, not only is it highly disappointing that Everbyte decided to go through with AI bullshit assets instead of the beautiful pictures and generally minimalist art design that they got us used to on Duskwood, but then they add insult to injury by deciding to turn THOSE godawful profile pics and backgrounds into a gacha game?!

I'll let Cardi B explain my reaction to the newest Crate system implemented on Moonvale:

And aside from that bullshit, they turn around and decided to ditch the writing style that they had us hooked with on Duskwood (except that this time they improved the English localization very much, ngl) to provide us with an immediate opportunity to romance the first character we meet, almost completely breaking the immersion in the stakes of the whole detective drama plotline.

Though I am very much aware that MANY players loved going through that route with Jake on Duskwood, it does seem highly inappropriate in-universe to be told by Eric that Adam is missing and immediately replying with the equivalent of "omg that sucks for you, wanna date me?" while on Episode 1. The build-up of romantic tension between Main Character (MC) & Jake during the efforts to save Hannah was precisely what made the romantic route so compelling, but considering that the kickstart for most of the in-game events in Moonvale is the mystery surrounding Adam, it would seem common sense that in terms of plot, it would be best if Love as a gameplay option took a while to build up instead of being RIGHT THERE from the get-go (though I'm sadly aware that most of the fandom for Duskwood was CLAMORING for this option to be implemented on Everbyte's socials' comment section for actual years).

Another thing that would have been absolutely gorgeous to build up with higher anticipation is the Duskwood reveal on Moonvale Episode 1... You're really telling me that after all the odyssey to rescue Hannah, seeing Richy's ACTUAL DEATH on the mines, and being concerned for Jake's dissapearance, that our MC will crumble at the slightest pressure from a complete stranger (Ash) and break out the most private details of the story all willy-nilly?! After all this time?! If all this "Save your Duskwood code" and the conversation with Ash does not build up to a fully blown Jake reveal at the end via Adam's gang, this conversation where Duskwood's events are glossed over almost entirely will have been the most anticlimactic part of episode 1.

In my opinion, Everbyte has very much dropped the ball and high standards setup by their highly successful first game, and instead they churned out a rushed out cash grab in order to ride the coattails of the Duskwood fandom hype as fast as possible, with a subpar and very infantilized art design on both the interface and the mini games, because why is there no modern interface that reminisces us of the seriousness of trying to rescue Adam instead of reminding us that most mobile games these days are trying to imitate Candy Crush Saga and its very impressive revenue flow. Who knows?

Though the achievement system seems fascinating, and it provides helpful insights on the steps to follow, along with most useful diamonds needed to continue the plot advancement, wouldn't it have been more accesible for players like me (focused on story) to have an option to just buy the full game at once and opt-out of micro transactions from the get-go, like we did on Duskwood? One of the highest compliments I had for the first game, absolutely obliterated in this follow-up.

The introduction of the very serious envelope addressed to MC with a Tarot card, though very similar to what the Raven was in the story of Duskwood seems highly dissonant with the Moonvale interface art style, since this type of illustrations and backgrounds do not seem to get aligned with ANY of the story elements that Moonvale could potentially present in the next episodes, and whose harmony with the art style in the previous game made us get hooked onto the Duskwood storyline since episode 1...

Would it be too presumptuous of me to tell you that I hated Ash, Charlie and Violet's lackluster personalities as soon as I was introduced to them? We can see that they may follow a very similar trope to some of the gang members from Duskwood with absolutely none of the charisma. If we were to define them in pairs, we get Ash and Lilly, Charlie and Richy, Violet and... idk, Cleo's mom who we briefly hear about on the last episodes of Duskwood? (Yeah, that's how little we hear about/from Violet on episode 1, her cat's name at most). If Eric will end up being a stubborn Thomas or hopeful Jesy type, it remains to be seen.

I cannot possibly be the only one who would have been willing to wait for a while longer until we could get a game as compelling and as beautifully designed as Duskwood, instead of what Moonvale is, at the end of the day.

If you have the opportunity to download Moonvale this early in release, I'd say: Waste it. The only reason I'm going to try to finish the Moonvale storyline is to see what are the Duskwood conclusions and easter eggs that we were promised for at least 2 years but so far, I'd give this game a 5/10, hoping very much that the storyline improves as we go along, and incredibly disappointed in the gacha/mini game mechanics and art style.

And I mean this critique with the utmost love and respect for the Everbyte team behind the development. Criticism is a labor of love, and all the love I have for the original game, means my highest hopes for improvement in this sequel. Though I commend your efforts, being a smaller development studio, all the opportunities for improvement are not lost on me.

Here's hoping the storyline makes up for the interface on the upcoming installments for Moonvale.

[sentys]

hotd 2.03 spoilers below the cut:

........................................................................ sigh.

this felt like (bad) filler.

so long bracken twink, i enjoyed the meme.

i was never into the idea of aegon's prophecy. frankly, i hate the idea that some incestuous dragon riding freak had a fever dream about climate change and decided it was a good excuse to colonize several nation states.

and what did it even amount to? did they really believe that a prophecy would prevent or change the trajectory of a TARGARYEN CIVIL WAR???

as much as i yell about the subpar social commentary (or lack thereof) that has hotd in chokehold, making gwayne the racist one instead of literally anyone else on the kingsguard is bullshit.

I DON'T HAVE THE PATIENCE FOR THESE FUCKING BROTHEL SCENES!

yes, i realize the ridiculousness of the aforementioned statement, but these aemond + sylvie scenes aren't doing what the writers think they're doing.

listen, if ewan wants to take the 'alfie allen challenge' and hang dick, fine i appreciate it but at least have it be with his semi-canonical love interest.

is2g, they're gonna turn me into an alysmond shipper out of spite, atp.

good to see milly again, i was wondering if her or emily were gonna make a cameo or do a flashback this season, since everyone loved them so much.

love moondancer's little mohawk. she so pretty!!!

no, but that looks like so much fun. somebody make a supercut of all the mechanical dragon bts.

don't ask rhaena to raise your fucking kids when you got nursemaids aplenty. the audacity.

i still cannot believe that this loser gets silverwing. glad she survives and he doesn't.

is that really aegon the conqueror's armor or is aeg2 just posturing? i keep forgetting how old he was when he first started conquering.

spooky scary harrenhal, i'm here for it. gimmie more. says the scaredy cat.

i was actually gonna complain about how in the hell anyone besides alicent knows that larys set the fire that killed his dad and brother, but then i remembered that his assassin's were literally wearing firefly pendants, so ......................... yeah .

GIVE US SUNFYRE YOU FUCKING COWARDS!

shut up and eat your peas, daemon.

did they really just send rhaenyra on a side-mission to intercept alicent at the sept just to resolve a meaningless miscommunication? CONDAL, I AM IN YOUR WALLS!

y'know, for as inconsistent as they're written, i love rhaenys and corlys being cute together.

[aconstantstateofbladerunner]

Blade, do you feel vindicated in your dislike for HP now that Rowling showed their true colors?

Here’s the thing: i didn’t hate HP before Rowling imploded. I didn’t really like it, but in the same way i don’t like stuff like Friends or the Mission Impossible movies, what little I saw didn’t grab me so i didn’t keep watching. No strong opinions whatsoever. Just a popular thing that wasn’t personally for me. And I still don’t particularly hate the books or movies themselves, I still haven’t seen anything besides the first 2 movies and that was years ago.

But over the past few years, as Rowling’s bullshit has gotten bolder, as critical eyes have looked back on the more questionable aspects of the series, as more new merchandise continues to be released decades later that goes directly back to Rowling’s hate campaigns, somehow, there are still people who worship the franchise like it’s god’s gift to earth. From the dumbass articles that act like Rowling ‘invented’ tropes that have been around for decades just because she made the most money off them, to the shameless weirdos who try to relate all their real world political stances to the HP fandom because it’s “just like the books,” to the sad nerd adults who would come into my dollar store a few miles away from Universal Studios Florida after a full day in the HP theme park wearing officially licensed robes, and still have the balls to act like middle school outcasts hated by the world because the only HP merch we sold were subpar T-shirts and keychains.  Yes, I know that people like this are not exclusive to HP, but the difference is the sheer scale of it all, and the fact that supporting it directly funds a hate group.

I couldn’t give less of a shit about the books themselves, but the cult-like worship of everything to do with the franchise has overstayed its welcome. My sympathy for people who’s beloved childhood memories have been tainted by bigotry has limits. Of course you can be sad and upset, but you also have to move on eventually. There are millions of better books out there waiting for you once you do.

[toldbytendo]

I saw this tweet earlier and honestly, I can’t not speak on it, because I think this is so dangerous. Firstly, I actually agree with the sentiments expressed in this post, I think she addresses a very important issue: the existence of violent men. However, I think it also highlights a very problematic notion especially from the perspective of women.

We need to stop normalising violence the way we normalise cheating, it is not in a man’s ‘nature’ to be violent, we shouldn’t reward men for not putting their hands on us nor should we celebrate grown men for being able to regulate their emotions enough to be slow to anger. An inability to do so is sign of an unstable individual and frankly we need to get as far away from those kinds as possible.

I feel like it goes without saying that I’m not talking about victims of domestic violence here, there are women in extremely vulnerable situations that obviously can’t escape situations where they experience violence on a day to day and their circumstances differ greatly and they will forever remain in my prayers, any women in dangerous environments, where they’re experiencing violence, I pray for their safety and liberation.

There’s no room for argument with the tweet, I completely agree, but it’s that last line, that grants “good” men awards for basic human decency that my point resides. In a world where violence against women is at such a high, it can be such a relief to experience a man that in essence shows basic human decency by being ‘slow to anger’ and not being violent towards his partner but I think it’s so crucial that we as women stop treating this as some exceptional, extraordinary quality, that may be how we feel as women today, especially if we have a history of dealing with violent and aggressive men but I think we create a dangerous precedent that rewards men for doing quite literally the bare minimum. Celebrating a man for not being violent, abusive or controlling is like celebrating the sun for shining, it’s doing what it’s *supposed* to do (I could’ve come up with a better analogy but it’s late, I’m annoyed and can’t sleep).

I think this also reinforces another particularly harmful and dangerous stereotype about men and anger, it suggests that the default stereotype of masculinity contains within it, an inability to control emotions and that the ones who can are somehow exceptional and above the others. I feel like this not only diminishes the importance of emotional intelligence but somehow perpetuates this myth that anger and violence are inherent to men. This is such a dangerous idea to propagate because you create an opportunity for men that allows them to not need to take accountability for violent behaviours, as they’re acting ‘within their nature’ which is such bullshit. See how you can’t celebrate one without creating a problem?

I think another dangerous, in a slightly less physical but more emotional and psychological aspect that this attitude can cause is for women in relationships. By placing men who don’t have violent behaviours on a pedestal, we risk normalising non-physical abusive behaviours by setting the bar so low that any deviation from physical violence is actually praiseworthy. In turn, women can begin to suffer in unhealthy relationships and tolerate subpar behaviour simply because it’s “not as bad as it could be”, a phrase many women in emotionally manipulative and narcissistic relationships I imagine are used to hearing.

In summary, I think it’s so, *so* important that while it’s okay to acknowledge and be grateful for the men that are emotionally intelligent and create non violent spaces for women in relationships, we need to be conscious that we don’t celebrate this ability to regulate anger as something exemplary or ‘out of this world’ and we especially need to be stop reinforcing the idea that violence is ‘in a man’s nature’. In doing so, it sets the bar so low that standard bare minimum behaviour suddenly becomes an incredible trait. It’s okay to be thankful for the safety you feel with your man, I think as women, we can relate to one another when we speak on how liberating and reassuring and beautiful an experience it can be to feel safe, protected, sheltered and comfortable with our partners in a world where so much of the violence women experience in this world is inflicted by men. However, we need to remember that as rare as it is, it’s standard, it’s an expectation, a bare minimum in every sense of the word. We need to raise our expectations, reminding the “good” men of the world that they are not the prize simply for the absence of violence, the presence of genuine respect, empathy and equality are also bare minimum.

Ladies please, let’s not settle for the bare minimum and let us stay reminding ourselves that we deserve partners who are kind, loving, compassionate and truly committed to our well-being. 🤍

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Yuu can do it!

Part 42

First - Previous - Masterlist - Next

Enma, Ito, and Grim had not known what to expect when they went to pick up Kuroki from work the next day. Perhaps they would be squeezed within an inch of their life by Floyd again. Maybe Jade would finally reveal himself to be the more evil and dangerous of the twins by killing them or whatever it was the guy did – because they were sure he did something, his vibes were terrible. Maybe Azul would try and rope them into yet another sketchy deal (funnily enough, despite it being the quickest to duck out of, this was the one they were dreading the most, because they would have to deal with Grim whining about how they totally should have taken the deal for the rest of the night).

Maybe they would have a pleasant day without even a minor incident!

It happens! Sometimes! Like, once! It could happen again!

But not today!

Because, the moment they stepped through the mirror, Ruggie in tow, they were almost overwhelmed by the amount of sound that met their ears. At the echoing yelling that could be heard all the way down the tunnels.

Damn. They had really hoped that ‘accidentally’ calling upon Crowley, especially over something trivial like whether he’d had sex, would discourage people from attacking them. But apparently not.

Ito gave a quiet groan of annoyance.

“It could be unrelated to us,” Enma tried, kicking off his shoes.

Even Ruggie, who by all accounts should be playing dumb, paused with his foot still in the air, his shoe half off, to give him an incredulous look.

(Enma fought the urge to push Ruggie over while he was off-balance.)

“Every big thing that has happened so far this year has involved at least one of you four.”

“It’s not like we’re trying to cause trouble!” Grim argued.

This was a lie. Grim has absolutely intentionally caused trouble before. But neither Ito nor Enma were going to say anything about it, because that was currently their only defense.

Ruggie raised an eyebrow. “That makes it worse.”

Okay. Ouch.

Ito huffed. “It’s not our fault we’re in Hell.”

Enma started to laugh at the sheer insanity of their sentence, he was pretty sure that being in Hell necessitates it being your fault, but then something occurred to him. “Wait, you still think we’re in Hell?”

“I mean. Yeah. Too much bullshit has happened for it to be completely natural.”

Enma frowned. “I mean, sure, but that might just be that we caused a rift or butterfly effect by coming here. Chaos theory, you know?”

“You can’t just say ‘you know’ and have me suddenly know –.”

“Waitwaitwait,” cut in Ruggie. “You guys don’t even know what’s wrong with you?!”

Nooooooo Enma’s mean-spirited game has been ruined…

“You assholes!” Ruggie said.

Enma frowned. That was harsh.

“It was funny,” Grim defended them all. Ito and Enma nodded emphatically. If Kuroki were with them, he surely would have, too. Enma nodded twice as hard to make up for his absence.

For some reason, none of this seemed to make Ruggie any more okay with the situation. How could Enma know that for sure, you may ask? Well, the fact that he threw his shoe at Enma’s head tipped him off.

Enma, of course, dodged (because he doesn’t like being hit by shoes, shockingly), which didn’t seem to make him feel any better, either.

Ruggie was so hard to please.

Enma shook his head to himself, exasperated. “Let’s just go help Kuroki.”

“I’m surprised you guys didn’t immediately run to do it,” Ruggie snorted.

Ito and Enma met eyes, and then gave twin eye rolls. There was definitely a reason that Kuroki had been chosen as a primary target. He was seen as weak – either because he was the one of them who had ‘official’ ownership of the gun or because they had noticed his subpar gym grades. If they immediately ran to help him, that would communicate that they were unsure about his abilities and that he was their ‘weak spot’ or whatever. He needed to prove he could hold his own, in his own way.

This didn’t stop their pace from picking up just slightly.

As they neared, they found a crowd of what seemed to be solely Savanaclaw students, clustered in a vaguely circular shape. They didn’t have to guess what they had crowded around, partially because they knew their friend, but mostly because they could hear Kuroki’s voice pretty plainly:

“– and? Who asked?”

Enma wasn’t sure whether to groan or laugh.

Kuroki ended up groaning for him.

This should have opened Enma up to laugh, but he suddenly wasn’t in the mood to.

Ito paused, briefly, just outside of the circle. They knelt to pick up Kuroki’s gun. Someone had probably kicked it out of the way at some point.

Grim started growling. Enma felt claws start to tug at the fabric of his shirt.

“I’ll kill them –,” Grim started to say.

“No,” said Enma. Because that would make things so much worse. A good percentage of the mages were still wary of Grim and his magic, and if they learned that Grim was absolutely not that good at it they’d lose a hell of an edge. But he couldn’t say that to the monster’s face, so… “You’ll be best at comforting him, you’re his favorite.”

Grim didn’t seem particularly happy about his assignment. But he did puff up a bit at being recognized as Kuroki’s favorite, so problem solved? Hopefully?

“You should deal with them,” Ito said lightly.

This was true. They had a limited number of bullets. Enma had, once, been the vice-captain of a Kendo club. It was best for him to fight off the Savanaclaw students.

However.

“Your eye is twitching,” Enma said.

Their grip tightened on the gun. “I am aware.”

Enma snickered, pressing a hand to his chest. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll deal with them.”

Ito didn’t seem all that comforted by this fact. But they shook their head to themself, visibly steeling their nerves, before cocking the gun.

Several animal ears flicked at the new sound, and the chatter and jeering of the crowd immediately died.

Ruggie in tow, Enma pushed his way to the front.

Kuroki looked… worse for wear. He was leaning back against the glass wall in a way that seemed less casual and more he couldn’t support himself on his own. The skin of his neck was a mess of angry reds. There was a wound lost somewhere in his messier-than-usual hair, only noticeable thanks to the blood gluing one of his electric blue eyes shut. A hand was cradling his side, purposeful in the placement of his fingers, physically holding himself together.

Despite all this, he was actively using his other hand to flip off his assailants. Bloody lips split into a cocky smirk.

“You’re all bitches,” Kuroki taunted. “Cowards! I mean, it's smart, I guess. It’s obvious you know you’d lose any fair fight you get into. But, y’know, at least I am willing to take it when I have to. How do any of you expect to get by as athletes or whatever it is if all you can do is kick people who are already down?”

“Yeah, literally,” Enma said.

Kuroki groaned. “Ecchan –.”

And then he seemed to realize that there was a reason as to why the blows had stopped coming. He lifted his head, slowly, to look at his friends. For a moment, the cocky, purposefully infuriating smirk on his face widened into an actual, full-on smile.

And then he dissolved into a mess of (mostly) fake tears.

Manipulative prick, Enma thought, almost fond save for the mild pang of annoyance when he realized that it was actually working a little on him regardless.

Grim was quick to fly over to the boy, searching through their backpack for their supply of emergency healing potions. Ito was a little slower, their face a little greener, but still they knelt down beside him. Kuroki grabbed their sleeve and tugged them closer for comfort that they, somewhat reluctantly, gave. They wrapped careful arms around him, threading a hand through his hair, only wincing slightly when Kuroki’s chin, dripping red, came to rest on their shoulder. Kuroki’s expression twisted once again, into a strange little smile, his eyebrows raising in a way that screamed ‘ooooh, you’re in troubleeeee’.

Enma almost laughed at the familiarity of it all. Save for all of the blood and soon-to-be bruises, it was close to those times when Kuroki would fake cry just to get Enma in trouble. It didn’t genuinely work, Ito never believed it, and Enma never actually got grounded or whatever, but it was fun to mess around and pretend.

But the wicked look on Kuroki’s face wasn’t aimed at Enma for once.

Right.

Enma heaved a sigh, turning back to the group of Savanaclaw students. They were visibly confused, looking between themselves for answers no one seemed to have. Why had Ito picked up the gun when it was pretty clear that they had no intentions of using it anytime soon? Why wasn't their monster attacking them to create the more even fight Kuroki had been spouting off about?

Why were they acting like they had already won?

Enma wasn’t going to complain about the brief reprieve. It gave him plenty of time to do a quick assessment. It seemed like there were three main people who had attacked Kuroki, judging by the cracked and bloody knuckles on two of them, and the last’s messy clothes which suggested some kind of scuffle. The rest of the people had probably just been watching the show. So, those three were most likely to fight back, where the others might be more hesitant to hurt a poor, helpless magicless human (directly, at least). 

He took a moment to unbutton his suit jacket and toss it onto Ruggie – mostly just because he wanted to annoy the hyena, but also partially because he was barely resisting the urge to pick up the yagujen and throw him at the asshole Savanaclaw students, and covering his face was the only solution he could think up on the fly.

He groaned and stretched his arms over his head, readying himself for an unfair fight.

On the mages ends, of course.

Because, if there was one thing that he had realized over the past few days, it was this: mages rely on magic way too much. Given an option to neatly and fairly exclude Malleus Draconia from the tournament? Too easy, magical sabotage is clearly superior. Path obstructed by greenery? A new method of cultivating plants isn’t needed, just chop through them with wind magic every day. Writing hand broken? Don’t take the opportunity to learn how to be ambidextrous, just use magic!

The fistfight between Ace, Deuce, and Jack? Sloppy. The schools attempts to non-magically bully them? Fucking pathetic.

Have three people saying that they will ruin your revenge plot? Don’t bribe the notoriously broke students, that would be stupid. Instead, pull petty shit like this!

Mages were useless without their magic. And Enma understood, he would probably be the same given their circumstances.

That didn’t mean that he didn’t intend on exploiting this weakness as much as possible.

He didn’t have a weapon on him, but he would make do.

He punched the nearest Savanaclaw student with all the anger a magicless student forced into a school full of mages in a completely foreign dimension could muster.

Which is to say, the guy went down.

Their chin cracked against the glass. As his jaw made a cracking sound, not the glass, which was surprisingly okay. Must be magically at least somewhat magically enforced. But then why bother making people take their shoes off when entering Octavinelle?

Hm…

He could ponder that later.

For now, Enma shook out his hand.

“So sorry, senpai,” he said. “Looks like my hand slipped.”

Needless to say, the Savanaclaw students were not pleased by these new developments.

(“Can I – hic – have my inhaler, too?” Kuroki panted. “I think. I triggered. My not-asthma. While fake crying.”)

Claws tore the sleeve of Enma’s shirt. Ugh, Kuroki was going to complain so much about repairing that. He kicked in the offender’s knee in retaliation.

(“Kuroki,” Ito scolded, immediately pulling away to start searching their backpack.)

A particularly heavy hit slammed into Enma’s cheek. He returned the favor. Dully, he wished for rings.

(Grim hovered by the pair of them. Not quite like he was trying to ward off any Savanaclaw students that might try and wander over, but instead like he wasn’t sure how to help. Kuroki, however, knew exactly how the monster could help, and dragged Grim into a tight hug to use as a kind of stress ball. Grim complained loudly about being squeezed too hard, but made no moves to even readjust himself in the boy’s arms.)

A hand pulled his hair, which was messed up. He tore his head out of their grip and sunk his teeth into their arm. Call it Grim rubbing off on him or turnabout being fair play – seriously, who pulls hair, this bitch deserves a possible infection – all Enma cared about was that it was effective.

(“Ruggie, the halls are made of glass I can fucking see where you’re going!” Ito yelled, shoving the inhaler clumsily into Kuroki’s hands before running after the boy trying to disappear into the Mostro Lounge.)

The guy that had landed a hit on him was coming back for seconds, and Enma decided he would make them regret it. He kicked them where the sun doesn’t shine, and watched their animal ears flatten in shock and horror, and then their tail bristle as they sank to the floor.

Oooh, maybe he could try stepping on someone’s tail next, see what happens –.

A gunshot ran out.

Ruggie shrieked.

Enma glanced over and smiled when he found Ruggie standing in front of a spider web of cracks in the glass. The yagujen’s tail might not have been long enough to tuck itself between his legs, but it was certainly there in spirit.

Ito’s head tipped back, towards where the sky would be if there was one in this pocket dimension, before sighing.

And then they tackled Ruggie.

The glass finally gave way under the force of two humanoids crashing into it, and the pair were sent out into the water.

For a minute, it was mostly silent, save for the rush of water entering the hall. Students watched on in a fascinated kind of horror as Ito and Ruggie wrestled in the brine, pulling at each other’s hair and clothes, bubbles streaming from their lips.

And then Savanaclaw students started rushing towards the hole to try and fish them out before they drowned. Or, worse, Azul Ashengrotto found a way to save them and put them all in his debt.

Well. Guess the fight is over.

He should probably do… good friend things. Whatever that was.

Enma breathed a sigh, and made his way over to Kuroki. He glanced his friend up and down. Kuroki and Grim were clinging to each other – it was hard to tell who was comforting who. He was, frustratingly, still not healed up. He had finished with his inhaler, but had yet to take the health potion, instead opting to roll it around in his fingers.

Enma cracked a grin.

“So. Ecchan?”

Kuroki blushed bright red. Unfortunately, he chose that exact moment to decide that healing his injuries was worth the terrible taste.

~

Four kids sat in the middle of Octavinelle. Two were covered in blood and bruises – though, Kuroki was currently nursing a healing potion (he couldn’t seem to get more than the tiniest of sips in at a time without cringing), so at least the more injured one would be fine soon enough. The other two were sitting in a puddle of their own making, dripping wet, looking very much like pathetic wet cats.

Really, they should all be grateful that things were only as bad as they were. Kuroki and Enma were still conscious and capable of movement. Ruggie and Ito were still able to breathe oxygen. Really, things had gone about as well as was realistically possible.

None of them were intent on celebrating, though. Because the hole in the glass walls of the tunnel they resided in had been patched with a wind spell. They could barely feel the magic, even while sitting as close to the hole as they were, only noticeable in the slight tug of their hair.

There weren’t many people who could perform this kind of controlled, precise magic on such a large scale.

And only one person who would have cared enough to bother.

Crowley paced back and forth. His shoes kept clinking against the glass. Enma, dully, wondered if the glass beneath them would shatter under all of the stress.

He sure hoped not. His knuckles had split open during the fight, and he didn’t think that salt water would help soothe the pain.

“– can’t leave the three of you alone for a day! I don’t know why I gave you that gun! It’s been two days and I have so much to clean up and several complaints! You three cause me so many problems, honestly, if I didn’t know that it would leave you homeless I would have expelled you months ago!”

Ruggie’s head shot up at the revelation. He squinted at the headmaster for a minute, and then turned to scrutinize the Yuus. Apparently seeing them in a new light.

Enma fought not to bristle. He didn’t want Ruggie’s pity.

But, even more, he wanted to make sure that the Headmaster didn’t see him as too aggressive and throw them out despite his claims that he wouldn’t. Because, as much as the Headmaster claimed he didn’t want to leave them homeless, he almost expelled them on their first day. It was clear that, if money was involved, Crowley had his priorities. And they had just cost him a whole lot of money.

“And you,” he said, whirling on Ito. “I expected better from you, at least.”

Ito didn’t even bother to meet the Headmaster’s pinprick eyes, apparently busy wringing out their hair. Their expression was flat, but… Enma thought they might be feeling a little guilty?

“I tried to warn you.”

Crowley gave them a flat look. “Saying ‘Sorry, Crowley’ immediately before causing property damage is not a warning.”

“Not my fault you weren’t close enough to help,” they sniffed.

Okay, nevermind on the guilt thing. They might just really care about the state of their hair. Now that he thought about it, Ito used to get really annoyed when Enma and Kuroki used their shampoo and conditioner, back before they had apparently given up all hope and accepted the inevitable.

“I could make you sorry,” Crowley said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I should confiscate that weapon of yours.”

Kuroki gasped and hugged his recently-recovered gun to his chest. “No! It’s mine.”

(Grim looked to be jealous of an inanimate object.)

Ito looked at Kuroki for a minute before sighing, their hands falling from their hair. They finally met Crowley’s eyes, if only for a second before they shifted into a seiza. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Crowley’s lips twisted in a complicated array of emotions Enma couldn’t even begin to decipher.

He patted the top of Ito’s head. Once. Before he remembered that they were soaking wet and flinched back in disgust at his newly-dampened gloves.

“I will allow you one more chance. However, you will be the one to file the insurance claims and hire the contractors necessary to repair this.”

Privately, Enma thought that Ito would have probably been stuck with the paperwork even if they hadn’t been the one to cause all of the damage. However, he, wisely, remained quiet. If Crowley was going to let Ito off easily – accidentally or purposefully – then Enma wasn’t going to be the one to ruin that for them.

With little more than a huff and a swish of his cape-wing-things, Crowley was gone.

Ito flopped back against the glass floor. This was not a particularly safe thing to do, but it was fine, apparently.

Ruggie, on the other hand, was distinctly not fine. “This is blatant favoritism.”

“Be more likable and maybe you’ll get some favoritism of your own,” Grim said, apparently still bitter about being replaced by a gun.

Ruggie didn’t take it too personally. “Look who’s talking!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“If you don’t already know, then I think you might be beyond saving, bud.”

Grim sunk his teeth into Ruggie’s calf. Which was really just proving Ruggie’s point, but Ruggie was in pain now so did he really win? Not really.

Enma snickered as Ruggie began frantically trying to shake the monster off.

And then blinked when glass clinked against his teeth. Kuroki was determinedly not looking at him, which was a… funny choice, considering he was the one holding the rest of his healing potion to Enma’s lips.

Enma really didn’t need it, he had dealt with worse than a couple of bruises and scrapes in his club, but he didn’t bother arguing with Kuroki about it. He took the potion into careful hands. “Do you think this counts as a second-hand kiss?” he asked, because frankly annoying Kuroki sounded much more fun than dealing with the real emotions or, worse, dealing with the terrible taste of healing potions.

Kuroki, predictably, bristled and started spitefully reaching for the potion again. But Enma noted that, despite his protests, there was no real force behind his actions. He wasn’t actually trying to take it back.

Or, at least, Kuroki didn’t want the potion to spill on him.

Enma chose to believe it was the first one, though.

~

Ito came home smelling, disturbingly, like smoke. Now, to be fair, the smell of smoke had lingered on all of the Ramshackle kids ever since they had started hanging out with Grim, despite their best efforts to get the smell out. Mainly because, the second they tried, the monster would start rubbing all over them again to ‘fix’ this wrong. And they could not afford that much detergent. So, smelling like smoke was just a part of life for them nowadays…

However, Grim’s magestone had a few dark specks in it, so it was safe to assume he had recently used his magic.

“I’m going to take a quick shower –.”

“What did you do?” Ruggie asked, narrowing his eyes at them.

“Nothing that affects you,” Ito promised.

Ruggie looked at them for a moment longer, trying to determine if that was actually the truth. And then he shrugged, going back to folding Leona’s laundry. Apparently, that was all he cared about.

Kuroki, however, was not quite as quick to let it go: “What’d you do?”

“Went to a bonfire!” Ito said brightly.

“... you burned their homework, didn’t you?”

“Yep. And their notes. And their textbooks. It’s the first part of my three-step plan to ruin their high school years.”

Enma and Kuroki stared at them.

“What is the plan?” Kuroki asked, not quite disturbed, but definitely wary.

Ito smiled and refused to elaborate.

“Deserved,” decided Enma, going back to his non-burned homework.

[amazingmsme]

I Know You

AN: October is finally here! You know what that means! Happy tickletober! Here’s day 1: anticipation. 

It was official, the world was coming to an end. Again. But this time, Ben was there. Like, honest to God physically there. And now that he was sufficiently drunk, he was much nicer and more affectionate. Klaus was slumped over the bar, looking at Ben with love and fondness in his eyes. Ben caught him staring and smirked.

"What gives? Do I have something on my shirt?" he asked, a tipsy smirk on his face. Klaus chuckled and shook his head.

"No, nothing like that. Juuust thinkin'," Klaus drawled, hiding the corner of his smirk behind his hand.

Ben leaned over to rest his head on his shoulder, and it was so much like the old Ben that it hurt. "About whaaaat?"

"I know everything about you, but you know nothing about me." Ben scoffed and shoved him away gently.

"Bullshit, you know nothing," he deadpanned, taking a swig from his glass.

"Oh but I do. You prefer ice cream over cake, and your favorite flavors are cookie dough and carrot cake, respectively. I know you've always wanted bunk beds, and you'd beg Dad to let you get one but he said no every time." When Ben opened his mouth to interrupt, he held up a finger to stop him. "And don't try to tell me you never wanted one. I know that's a lie."

Ben scoffed, seemingly impressed. He crossed his arms, looking him up and down. "Not bad. What else?" he asked, propping his elbow on the table to rest his chin in his hand.

"What else? Benny, I could literally go on forever."

"Well we only have a few hours left, so you better be succinct," he teased. Klaus snapped his fingers and pointed in his face.

"That's another thing about you. You're so scholarly, it got on everyone's nerves. Well, except Five and Viktor, but they're eggheads so it doesn't count. You always use these big, flamboyant words when normal ones work just fine. Because I know you like to rile people up while pretending to not know what you're doing," Klaus said matter of factly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ben said, arching a brow. Klaus gave him a knowing look. Ben held his gaze for a moment before they both broke down into a giggle fit. "I think you know me better than I know myself," he joked.

"That's because I probably do. You only wear 100% cotton socks because anything less is cheap and subpar. You're secretly afraid of the Horror, but you keep it to yourself so you don't worry us. Have you even told any of the other Sparrows?" Klaus asked hesitantly when he saw the shellshocked look on his face. Ben blinked a few times to shake himself out of it.

"Fei knows. Knew, I guess I should be saying." He sounded dejected, and his shoulders sagged just a little. Klaus couldn't have that. That was the exact opposite of what he was trying to do.

"Hey, no sad sulky Ben. This is our last night, we gotta go out with a bang baby!"

"Oh we'll go out with a bang alright," he sneered. Klaus winced. Not his best phrasing.

"Not the words to use in this situation, I admit. But I also just happen to know the perfect remedy for that sour face," he quipped, reaching over to pinch his cheeks. Ben swatted him away, but he was at least smiling again.

"Yeah? And what would that be?" he slurred, taking another drink.

"You just so happen to be quite ticklish," he said smugly. Ben's drunken smile vanished from his face, replaced with a classic deer in the headlights look.

"That's where you're wrong?" he quickly denied. Klaus giggled, reaching out to poke his side.

"Is it?" he teased, not bothering to hold back his grin. Ben was smiling just as much, maybe even more so.

"Yeah. It is." It was a challenge in every sense. A dare for Klaus to test his knowledge, and an open curiosity on Ben's part. They locked eyes, flinching with each sudden movement the other made. They had entered a stalemate. When Klaus would get too close, he'd cover his belly with his arms and let out a shy, nervous giggle.

"Stop," he insisted with a goofy grin.

"But why would I do that? Especially when I know your tummy is your worst spot," he proudly proclaimed. Ben's eyes widened comically.

"You don't know that." Oh but he did. And Ben knew he did.

When Klaus faked an attack, fingers wiggling in the air, he was already giggling like mad.

[thebusylilbee]

hi sorry to be sliding into your inbox like that, but what kind of ending would you prefer for Barry? 🤔

Hi anon, I don't have one particular ending I wanted in mind, it's just that I would have prefered it if the show didn't rush it and didn't throw logic and coherence out the window for the last two episodes :/ Basically :

I don't think the 180° everybody does about Gene is plausible,

I don't think Sally letting the world and her son believe complete bullshit is coherent with her arc, she's still living a lie basically. She should have At Least told the truth to her son.

I don't think Janice's father leaving Barry with his legs untied alone in a room where a sharp object is readily available feels logical when put next to what we've seen of Janice's father so far. He's been methodic and meticulous this whole time,

I don't think Gene's ending feels earned, I don't mean morally but narratively, it comes out of nowhere

I don't think the ending works tonally - those infinitely long minutes of subpar hollywood parody are just jarring and abysmal imo and an absolutely awful way to end the show, there's nothing smart happening here,

just like in many other shows they think they'll manage to add a child at the last minute and make him interesting but it just doesn't work like that, ending the show on this kid we barely know instead of a character we've followed for many seasons (like Gene ??? hello ??? or at least a little more of Sally damn !) is a bad choice

Frankly while writing all that I actually thought of something that would have made this whole ending much easier to swallow for me : if the last shot was Sally visiting Gene in prison. She literally turned to him for help in her worst moment, her one moment of clarity in the hell that she created for herself, and then just... nothing ? Nothing from her, no desire to talk with someone who knows as much as her ? No desire to respect the one other major victim of Barry ? *sighs* whatever...

[metalcursed]

okay, here we go, it's gonna be controversial but...

eddie doesn't sing. he tried when the band first formed, but even his ego wasn't big enough to drag corroded coffin down with a subpar vocalist. he needed them to be great, and his voice wasn't even characteristic enough to pull off some bullshit origin story that "yeah, he couldn't carry a tune, but his voice was UNIQUE." no, no, no, no. eddie is more than happy being the band's lead guitar. at most, he'll belt out melodies when he's learning a new cover by one of his idols. he's very much that guy who air guitars to a song rather than awkwardly stumble along with the lyrics. music and its arrangement calls to eddie's muse. he appreciates the poetry of a song, but as far as what he's drawn to creatively, it's the musical track.

[1plus3isb]

Okay so I feel like I might’ve made a post like this on one of my blogs (either this one or my main idk) but I think it was more about how I think Matt, Mello, and Mei would all be good friends and not like, a detailed thought process about possible quirks for characters. So…

DN/MHA crossover quirks

L’s quirk is that he gets nutrition from everything he eats. Like. His body literally can just survive off of his diet of just sweets. Insert fantasy science bullshit about how his body can convert whatever he gets from his just desserts diet to what his body actually needs.

Watari I have 2 ideas for. Either:

He has some kind of quirk that makes it where he doesn’t need to sleep. My spouse suggested he has to drink a cup of earl gray tea a day and that acts as a sleep replacement. Tbh its just because he’s like L’s butler and since L is an insomniac then Watari is there whenever he needs him.

A quirk like Homing (Snipe’s quirk). He’s already known to be really good with a gun so it just kinda makes sense? Maybe something like perfect aim. Can aim where he needs to perfectly at any target within some sort of range?

I have a couple ideas for Light too.

Death Note. He literally just needs to know someone’s face&name and have access to pen&paper to kill them. Which like. Would be horrifying to Pro Heroes if he became a villain.

Something charisma based. Like a quirk where he can control someone into doing things for him. Effectiveness varies from person to person and relies on a lot of different factors. First ai thought maybe just intelligence? But Mikami is intelligent and it’d probably be super effective on him. So probably also depends on how easily they trust people too.

I also like the idea of him having a mind reading quirk. Not in the sense that he can hear what everyone is thinking, but like being able to single someone out and take a deep dive into whatever they’re thinking or seek out specific info he needs.

Matt’s quirk is definitely some sort of technokenesis quirk. He can control technology to some extend but I’m not sure what. Definitely more like a smart device control, not like a vacuum. But I could see him using this quirk to just like. Mod the shit out of video games with ease. And I feel like he’d have his brain set up like a computer. You ask him something and its like he’s opening up files or tabs in a browser to answer.

I see Near having like, a combo of Monoma’s and Aizawa’s quirks. He can copy a quirk for X amount of minutes, and while he’s copying it the original user can’t use their quirk. But he can’t copy multiple at a time. If he’s copying person A’s quirk and decides to copy person B’s quirk, then person A gets their quirk back.

Okay so thoughts for Mello’s quirk I just talked about in this post, but I’ll reiterate here 😂

Quirkless. I like the idea of Near and Mello being almost a reverse Bakugo&Izuku. Where everyone really thought Mello would have some grand quirk because of his parent’s quirks and Near just looked up to him, only for Near to get this really cool quirk and for Mello to never develop one.

I also like the idea of Mello being similar to Dabi. Having a quirk that isn’t compatible with his body. No specific idea for what this quirk could be or the drawbacks but it just feels right? The idea of Mello having this amazing quirk that he can’t really use, but then watching other people flourish with quirks he thinks are subpar.

The most recent thought, Finger Guns. He can shoot energy out his fingers but he has to be doing the finger gun shape, cock it with all his shots, and make some sort of gun noise (BANG! BOOM! Etc.) its super silly but I really like it. I feel like he’d take himself way too seriously and if someone giggled about it he’d threaten to shoot them.

Okay I had to have my boy Beyond on here too don’t worry.

His eyes. I mean they’re kind of a quirk anyways. 💯 born with them. His whole quirk counseling is them trying to explain to Beyond that he can’t just walk up to people and tell them they’re about to die.

Pain infliction, BUT he feels all the pain he inflicts too. So if he makes someone’s arm hurt he feels it in his arm. Honestly knowing B he’d probably enjoy it.

Misa is another one I’m having trouble with too. A couple ideas:

Spousal unit suggested a quirk like Bakugo’s mom, since Misa is also a model.

I like maybe a low-level charm person quirk. Helps influence people to like&trust her more, and be more willing to do things for her, but not enough to flat out control them.

OR. Or. Some sort of quirk that makes her super resilient? Or like a spidey-sense but only for herself? Tbh I was thinking of how Gelus&Rem kept her safe in DN and thats what made me think of that. If a pot was about to fall on her head she’d just know and side step. Something like that.

I think these are the only people I’ve given any thought to in the DN universe. Like I said, I’ve thought about this a lot 😂😂😂 I would love to write a fanfic in this sort of universe but idk. I’m also super behind on MHA so 😅 enjoy I guess.

[dlamp-dictator]

Thoughts of Spellblades

God, there are no good banner-esque images of this series.

Last year I made a post about the anime adaptation of Hundred, a subpar and overall generic combat school anime from the mid-2010s and what seemed to be the last of the combat school craze that had hit the 2010s along with my general opinion of why I liked that niche genre of story telling. In that post I discussed how I found that anime completely subpar on almost all fronts, both as a combat school story and a story all on its own. It’s setting wasn’t fully utilized, it’s main character was neither interesting nor did their reasoning for being at the school feel very important, and almost every other character within the main cast was more interesting and would serve as better protagonists. A very generic show that practically refused to engage in the elements that made it unique. It was with this anime and series like it that I thought the combat school would die with, a semi-decent and fun premise to always be squandered for cheap action, easily marketable waifus, and simple plots without much thought to them.

And then folks, read the first three volumes of the manga Reign of the Seven Spellblades and I have some thoughts.

Positive thoughts. Positive enough thoughts that I think this dead genre might be coming back with some writers that actively care about what they’re writing and have an honest love of both the characters and setting they write about. I... have hope, something my cold, dead heart hasn’t felt about anything anime/manga/light novel related in years lest we count the Korean Webcomic scene.

But first, before I get carried away, that synopsis.

Kimberly Magic Academy is a well known... well, magic academy, taking in the best and brightest young mages to mold their talents into something worth a damn for the greater advancement of sorcery. Our main character is Oliver Horn, attending Kimberly as part of his family’s tradition and following in their footsteps. He quickly makes friends with several students, most notably the foreign exchange student Nanao Hibiya from the Far Eastern lands of Azia and a few others. For the next seven years he’s to study and further his magical ability. However, the world of mages is a dark and cruel one. For all the encouraged curiosity and exploration of magic there is equally a lack of ethics, respect for life, and even civil rights. As the headmaster stated to the arriving mages: A mage’s role is to be acquainted with evil, feel it, understand it, then control it. Magical advancement is through the mountain of corpses that made the same attempted and failed, and these students will learn that lesson well in week one.

If you want the short version of my opinions on this series:

There is a genuine love and care put into the main cast and writing that I haven’t seen since some Royal Road serializations.

The world takes its magic and world more seriously than most and the setting feels stronger for it.

This is less and combat school and more a school with combat in it and is better for it.

My original draft was going to have me compare this series to some other shows and stories I like, but that really does this series a disservice, so I’ll be breaking those above points down in more detail.

The Setting

I’m going a little out of order here, but I feel the first point I mentioned should be discussed last. But to explain my first two points, I would describe the world of Reign of the Seven Spellblades (which I will shorten to Spellblades for simplicity) as Fate with the bullshit.

To make things very brief because I don’t feel like dealing with Fate fanboys clogging my inbox, the world of Fate’s mages is a world of advancement and exploration at the cost of humanity and morality. The world of Fate does not care for rights, morals, or righteous, it only cares about learning magic and regaining the old magecrafts at any cost. To that end are things like the Holy Grail War, human experimentation, ruthless inheritance practices, and so on. Spellblades follows a similar mindset. To give you the full quote of what I summarized and my synopsis, here’s the headmaster’s full speech to the students on their first day:

“This is Kimberly Magic Academy. The two tenets of our school are ‘Freedom’ and ‘Results’. That is no platitude. Statistically speaking, only eighty percent of you will graduate intact. Some of you will lose control of their rites, injuring themselves beyond repair. Others will go missing, lured by some unknown call. Still more will god mad, forcing their fellow students to end their lives. You have your choice of dooms. In the magical world we call this ‘being consumed by the spell.’ Accept this fact! It was true last year and the year before. It will be true next year and in all years to come! A mage’s role is to become acquainted with evil! Feel it! Understand it! Control it! Advancement in sorcery is made upon the countless corpses of those who came before! Thus, I leave you with these words- You are free to live... and free to die.”

This speech might as well be a direct quote from Tokiomi Tohsaka for just how on brand it is with the magus mindset of the Fate series, and you really start feeling that when the majority of antagonists so far in these three volumes are just senior students doing some variety of magical experiments that the school has no issue with since they’re also bringing in results. Most of the tension in the story comes not from the antagonists getting in the protagonists’ way, but from the first year students still working with a human level of empathy and compassion clashing with the colder more pragmatic senior mages and teachers, with fights to the death against magical beings being shrugged off so long as there was some level of consensual agreement or understanding that lives might be lost in the process of an altercation, that human rights being argued by our main cast is getting in the way of progress. Not to say this series is gritty or overly edgy for the sake of it, but you can really feel the apathy of the setting when it clashes with our main cast’s idealism and that’s something I appreciate. I love my idealistic heroes, but I especially love those heroes having their views convincingly challenged by the world around them. And in a setting this cold and pragmatic when the chips are down there’s a lot of challenging going on.

I know I said I wasn’t going to compare too much, but I want to at least point to Absolute Duo due to the similarity. The first moments of the series really set the stage and its what good me hooked on the series, so let me give you my dramatized version of the scene that convinced me to read this series with full engagement.

The Duel

To set the scene a bit, this happens soon after an incident with a wild troll is solved by Oliver, Nanao, and their soon-to-be friends all work together to stop the troll from harming other students. During this event we learn that while Oliver is a capable mage his skill set is more towards strategic thinking and excellent understanding of magical application, and that Nanao is a physical powerhouse that has the experience of not just a great swordsman, but a true warrior that has seen her fair share of battlefields. Soon after this event the entrance ceremony begins and the first day of classes arrive, the first class being magical swordsmanship. During class the teacher gives a basic lecture on why mages learn swordsmanship, the short of it being that while mages are magically powerful they should know some form of self-defense when unable to use spells quickly in emergencies. At the end of his lecture the teacher asks students to volunteer for an exhibition match. the mages are naturally shy about engaging in physical combat, so the training hall is silent.

Until, of course, the samurai swordswoman of the class immediately volunteers herself.

Oliver, not wanting his new friend to cause problems on her first day and be outclass by someone understanding the rules of magical combat more than her, offers to be her sparring partner for the match. This causes some grumbling at first, but once he explains his merits as a key figure in solving the troll incident and earning a right to test the other participant of that event’s mettle most arguments are quelled.

In Oliver’s mind, this is a simple practice match. While Nanao is powerful she lacks skill in magic where Oliver succeeds. He has no intention on taking this seriously and humiliating her, just fighting hard enough to make it look convincing and maybe take a swipe or two from her if the hits look weak enough to tank. All he has to do is make the fight look good without completely trouncing Nanao with his magic and embarrassing her.

And then, shit gets real.

This went from a spar to fight for survive in seconds. Nanao wasn’t just strong and fast, she was ruthless. Every dodge was avoiding a fatal slash, blocking against her strength was impossible, parrying had to be done with magical assistance and tricks, and even then Nanao’s physical athleticism practically ignored all of Oliver’s magical advantages. It was then he realized something about his friend, something he couldn’t see until he faced her blade himself.

Nanao has killed.

Not one person, not ten people, and not even in self defense. From her swings alone he can tell she’s already standing on a mountain of corpses to get her swordsmanship to the level its at. He’s not sparring with his new friend, he’s dueling her to the death to survive.

And the moment that thought sets in. The moment the two realize just what kind of fight their having and that one of them isn’t walking away from this fight...

“... ... ... It was here...”

No. He couldn’t ask for context. He couldn’t hesitate. The death match they were having wouldn’t allow him to drop his guard and leave himself open. There was no mercy at the start of this match, and there wouldn’t be any until it finished. He could only offer one thing to his friend in this moment.

“Don’t cry.”

“Sorry.”

And... well, I’ll end things there. This happens around chapter 2 and 3, so this is still pretty early in the manga, but the ending is something to see for yourself. It was this moment that I knew the writer behind this series had some love for their characters and an understanding of what they wanted to do with them. This scene is a real nice play on the typical duel of most first arcs in the combat school genre. Unlike most, this duel wasn’t a challenged issued by the female lead, instead an attempt by the male lead to keep the peace of the situation. The stakes started low but were ramped up instantly once Oliver realizes just how skilled Nanao is. And while I didn’t detail the specific moves it really is a matter Nanao’s athleticism against Oliver’s strategies and tricks, no one side completely overpowers the other. And the aftermath of this duel had some lasting consequences throughout the first major arc too. All in all this was the scene that convinced me to get sucked into the world and engage with it on its own terms.

Other Positive Notes

There’s a lot I want to talk about with this series right now, but I don’t want to spoil anything and I already did one play-by-play of a scene so I’ll try and keep the rest of this brief:

This really does feel like all my issues with Hundred were addressed and fixed to a degree. The magic school is taken very seriously as a setting, Oliver as a character -despite wanting a peaceful school life- has no issue getting involved with his friends problems for the sake of earnestly helping them, and I feel that Oliver is an interesting and fun character all on his own, with the rest of the cast being nice additions to help shape his more rational mind and show off his social graces.

All of the side cast is utilized very well, as everyone seemed to have their own thing going on with Oliver serving as an objective voice of reason and Nanao being the foreigner with her own outside view of mage practices.

This is a small thing, but the fact that every character has a realistic name is a relief. Oliver Horn, Guy Greenwood, Michela McFarlane, even Nanao Hibiya sounds like a normal Japanese name. It just refreshing to see that.

Speaking of normal, all the main cast really do feel like friends. There’s some crushes here and there, but for the most part the six characters of the main cast feel like people that earnestly care about each other’s well being, which is nice to see.

Similar to my feelings on Masters of Ragnarok, I like that the male lead is more a strategist than a fighter, with Nanao being the powerhouse Oliver has to guide through team battles, but is a competent fighter in his own right when left to his own devices.

Criticisms

While thankfully few, I do have some criticisms of this series so far. Again, these will be brief:

The first three volumes of the manga might as well end with “to see what happens next, read the light novel.” And while I am going to read the light novel out of curiosity still find it annoying to learn the manga I was reading is a glorified light novel advertisement. Especially after volume 3.

The world-building and magic system aren’t too well explained in this series. It’s decent enough that I’m not asking questions in the moment but flimsy enough that I do have them after awhile of thinking when I put the books down.

There’s a bit more focus on the female side characters than male ones. This is common in most light novels and the arcs are just starting, but there’s already a bit of a love triangle going on and it definitely made me roll my eyes a little.

Conclusion

All in all, this is a fun series. If you’ve been wanting to see some magical action in your manga collection these first three volumes aren’t bad reads for it. I’m gong to be reading the light novel later this week and I might have some thoughts worth given then. Until then, I’ll see you folks later.