#is it clear that i am not a character designer yet

[gyzym]

HELLO AGAIN, here with some ANSWERS to some QUESTIONS I have gotten about Fall Into You! (If you do not have questions about Fall Into You, I am also, Ron Swanson style, available for questions about my other areas of interest: cooking, crocheting, spending too much of my day identifying birds via the Cornell bird scientists' app, things like that.)

I am in [a location outside of the US or UK], can I still buy the book?

YES! I do not have preorder links for every place yet, these things move in mysterious ways, I will add as I have them! But for now, you can also preorder in:

Canada

Australia

Brazil

France

Germany

Italy

Spain

India

I prefer a physical book; will I be able to order one?

YES! Physical books will be available for preorder as soon as the cover is done, and you better believe I'll be back to let you know 😄

I prefer an audiobook; will I be able to order one? 

YES! The audiobook is being recorded RIGHT now, a very talented voice actor named JORDY HOPE is reading it, at some point in the near-ish future I will be able to share a CLIP, I am SO EXCITED ABOUT THE AUDIOBOOK. I am myself an audiobook person (and a podfic person, shoutout to all the absolute heroes recording those) so I am THRILLED to say that we're planning on a simultaneous release here, so the audiobook should be available alongside the text version on release day 😄

Am I going to be able to order this book through other platforms?

Okay this one is HARDER TO SAY, because it's out of my hands and up to my publishers! My part of this process is largely typing words in a feverish haze and then being amazed and delighted that anyone enjoys reading them; because of this, my publishers wisely do not leave me to handle any of the business calls, as I possess no business skills. But I have been told that the best path to broader accessibility on other platforms is the book doing well on this one; my fingers are extremely crossed I'll be able to offer news here at some point! 

Is this novel secretly a thinly veiled fanfiction with the serial numbers filed off and if so, will you tell me which fandom/pairing it originated as? 

NO, it is not, so I cannot! I'm not casting aspersions or saying I'm above this, to be clear—I have read many delightful books that had their bones in fandom, and many delightful fanfics that might as well have been original novels in terms of both quality and diversion from canon, and there is at least one book concept I plan to execute at some point that was originally ideated for fandom. And ABSOLUTELY you will find, in Fall Into You and probably all my work forever, tropes and structures and stylistic choices I love from fic, because I love fic and find those tropes and structures deeply enjoyable to read. 

But this story is not and has never been fanfic, except in the sense that creativity doesn't exist in a vacuum, so all work draws from somewhere, so in the same way everything is a sandwich if you get broad enough in your definition of sandwich, everything is fanfic of something if you look at it right. The setting of Fall Into You, for example, is based on a real apple farm in Northeast Ohio that I've been visiting since I was a child; Will, our protagonist, isn't based on any specific pre-existing fictional character, but he WAS exactingly designed on the concept, 'Someone who could be well-rendered by Andrew Garfield circa roughly 2016,'; Casey, our love interest, was built to answer the question, "What if Bill Paxton's character in classic 1996 movie Twister* was queerer and hotter and instead of chasing tornados, he had only developed the similarly self-destructive habit of attempting to fix things (places, relationships, people) which have been badly broken?" This is a question concerned parties (me) have been asking SINCE roughly 1996, and data suggests that those parties (again, me) are pleased to have finally drawn such conclusive results. 

Didn't you write another book that one time? 

Yeah, you're not pulling that from nowhere, that novel is out there! But it's out of print, and was published under another name, with a photo of what I used to look like, in the uncomfortable years RIGHT before I finally let myself acknowledge I was trans and began pursuing transition. These were my egg cracking years. All trans people are different people, and there are many there who feel differently about this sort of thing than I do personally! For some folks, the cracking of the egg is swift and relatively clean, and/or they are able to look back on that period, and the previous iteration of themselves, with the fondness of a seasoned artist looking back on their first finger paintings. Those people are so valid and I am genuinely quite happy for them.

My own crackening, however, was more of a, "What's this mess on the floor—ew, has someone dropped an egg? Is that even an egg? God I better make sure no one sees this until I know what happened here, surely I'll be in some sort of trouble otherwise, how do you know what an egg looks like after it's been smashed—wait, where's my egg? Oh my GOD, is that MY EGG?? Oh god, oh fuck, oh hell, oh no—" sort of a situation for a hottttt minute there. I'm not ashamed of who I was or what I wrote back then, I haven't scrubbed traces of my old name or face off the internet, I don't care what people know about the years before I was living as myself. But they were messy years, especially towards the end, and I'm not hugely interested in discussing them. Wading around in that period of my life feels, to me (not speaking for all trans people! just for me!) like having to rehash my most embarrassing teenage moments in front of a live studio audience. So you won't see me pointing people towards it, because to do that would suggest I was interested in having that conversation, which I'm just not. No hard feelings, no need to scrub it from your memories, no disavowals; just a case where the author of that book is metaphorically dead in more than just the usual way. 

Will there be advance reader copies?

YES! Soon! If you're on NetGalley and would like to be sent one, please let me know 💜

Okay, HOPE THAT CLEARS THINGS UP, wishing you all LESS INTERESTING TIMES 💜

*If you think you want to talk to me about 2024's Twisters, a film that did nothing for deeply (some might say 'unsettlingly') devoted fans of the original Twister—I promise, I swear to you, no you don't lmao. 

HELLO TUMBLR 👋 i am ENORMOUSLY excited to say: i've written a book! and i'm writing two more! and they're all queer romcoms! and the first one, FALL INTO YOU, will be out in JUNE. there is a LOT of my heart in this novel, and i absolutely can't wait to share it with you 💜

if you've ever enjoyed my fanfic, particularly stories like What We Pretend We Can't See and I've Got Nothing to Do Today But Smile, then you'll love FALL INTO YOU. it's full of ROMANCE and JOKES but also REAL, MESSY PEOPLE with PROBLEMS and TRAUMA, because those are the stories i love telling! it's chock full of things i adore: set on an APPLE FARM in NORTHEAST OHIO, main characters who hate each other more or less immediately, gratuitous depictions of food, and they were ROOMMATES?, people healing wounds they didn't even know were still open, AND MORE.

i'll be sharing more about this book in the weeks to come (i promise i will try so hard not to be obnoxious about it 🫡 ), and about the next two as we get closer to publication! but until then, i just want to say: the fic stays UP and the author stays GRATEFUL, always. i am honored and humbled by your readership, and really proud of the work i've done for and with fandom, and that's not a tune you're ever going to see me change.

okay, thanks so much for reading!! hope you're all well; i'll just be here having one of the coolest and most surreal days of my life 😂👋💜

EDITED TO ADD 4/29/25: for those who have been kind enough to ask, you can PREORDER Fall Into You here in the US (or here in the UK)! Will have info to you ASAP on options for folks in other countries, this is all as new to me as it is to you, but will keep you very posted 💜

[luxevamp]

MADE A KILLJOYSONA FOR @drathym AS PER HIS REQUEST!!!!! sorry it’s bleeding so much i inked it with sharpie 😋😋

[bacchuschucklefuck]

january month of yuugi

[keeps-ache]

and we go right back at it !!

[invinciblerodent]

it's been a real struggle to find notebooks that I actually like, but I think I have found myself at a crossroads where I must ask myself--

am I the kind of person who would put function above form, and use the lovely, though plain notebooks from the office supply store

or am I the type to say fuck it, form over function, bitch, and order a custom-made one with a collage of my blorbo on it strictly for the meme

[platinumshawnn]

to strangers | benjicot blackwood x fem!bracken reader

a/n: yes i am fully aware i should be writing him as davos out of respect for the accuracy of the show and character but i'm still mourning what could have been. also leave it to me to write a little prequel tying this to my own fic a little bit by writing what this guy was really up to on his "hunting trip" lol. have some poorly written smut anyways, if anyone sees that I accidentally called the bracken’s estate “hedge stone” instead of “stone hedge” no you didn’t shut up it’s been fixed

synopsis: benjicot likes to rile up the women he likes i guess

Content warnings: MDNI — 18+, adult language, mentions of blood, violence, and war; era related sexism, smut (fem p in v sex, unprotected sex, degradation) [not proofread]

Word count: 5.5k words

you had never been one for conflict — especially not that of drunken councilmen who became red in the face, knocking over cups and irate over matters of politics as they shouted. despite your father’s efforts to maintain diplomacy and restraint during meetings, it almost always ended in a screaming match at the table these days — even your uncle could not bear to sit through them, and often doubled up on the amount he drank just to sit through them, barely able to walk as he stumbled out.

you were almost always met with apologies from your father as he found you outside the doors of the hall, given a squeeze of hand, and ushered to bed. you did not care for politics, but there was no escaping the recent events — it affected everyone, reaching beyond stone hedge’s walls, but your father the most. he appeared to have aged significantly over the past days, eyes exhausted and on edge whenever she greeted him.

but this particular night had been…a lot more than usual. your cousin, aeron, had come back, shaking as he’d returned from a survey of the lands with your brother; having got into another squabble over the boundaries with some blackwood boys who had dared to come too close to their land, in aeron’s words. the whole thing dripped of theatrics — “that filthy…cunt, benjicot”

your head popped up from the handkerchief you were working to embroider, your mother on your right as the pair of you sat in one of the several cabinet rooms that your father had designated for your lessons as a child; having since used it as an escape from the noise. even your mother had been alerted by the commotion as the boys clamored into the hallway, looking out through the door that had been cracked open to provide some airflow in the room. there, your cousin stood, his nose bloody and still dripping as your father summoned the maester while ranting to your uncle, attempting to shush the boy-knight who was on the border of shouting. your interest was only peaked by the name, sitting up and turning your body towards the three men, ceasing what you had been doing and placing the handkerchief in your lap to listen.

your father had made eye contact with you as aeron continued, grabbing him by the shoulder and reaching to close the door before you could hear as he dragged your cousin away. your mother had encouraged you to continue, the look she gave reminding you of proprietary and of your place — with a curt nod, you had returned to your task.

that had been at midday, and since then, there had not yet been a break. you could hear the shouts from your room, and you could picture your father amidst it all, trying to bring order and peace — a task he was successful in every so often, silence falling over the room and quieting to hushed whispers that would only last a short time before the yelling continued.

sometime before midnight, the silence had ended finally, stood at the top of the stairs as the councilmen dispersed; other members of your house trickled out. you had stayed up, waiting to approach your father, in hopes to get some sort of information on the outcome. but the exhaustion was clear on his face, being met by a soft, “on the morrow, not tonight, my dear.”

he had pressed a kiss to your head and brushed past you, receding to his chambers for the night, leaving you at the base of the stairs. as you went to retreat to bed yourself, you heard the cursing mutters of aeron who had finally exited the great hall doors behind you, still seething after several hours — you were relieved at least to find that his nose had since stopped bleeding.

“aeron,” you called out, turning to descend down the four stairs you had climbed just as he stopped in the hallway towards his own chambers. his eyes found you. you approached him, hand reaching out to grab his face between your fingers, turning to assess his face for any additional injuries you may not have noticed earlier in the day. however, much to your relief, he was otherwise unharmed, “you really ought to stop antagonizing those men— you’re going to get yourself killed.” you scolded, sighing and dropping your hand.

aeron winced slightly, more from the reprimand than any lingering pain. “I can’t just let them insult our family, you know that.”

you shook her head, a mix of frustration and concern in your eyes. “I know, aeron, but there’s a difference between defending our honor and looking for trouble. what good will it do if you’re dead?”

He avoided your gaze, jaw clenching. “I just can’t stand the way they look at us, like we’re nothing and like they can do whatever it is they please. Like they own the riverlands. someone has to stand up to them if your father won’t.”

“standing up to them doesn’t mean getting into brawls. use your head, aeron. we need you alive, not battered and bruised,” you said, your tone softening.

aeron had sighed and muttered something unintelligible, only able to make out a ‘yeah’ before he withdrew to his own rooms.

you had tried to sleep — you did. but at some point, the heat, humid and sticky, had made it impossible to; instead, turning and tossing in your bed, growing increasingly frustrated before you stormed from the bed with a huff. the conversation between you and aeron had been stuck in your head, the sight of him bloodied haunting you — how did benjicot look then? was he unscathed and unharmed?

you knew he had always been stronger, a fiercer opponent but you couldn’t help the worry that plagued you.

you had quickly changed as best you could in the dark, without falling over in a way that would alert the guards; pulling your dress on and watching underneath the door as you smoothed out the fabric, doing your best to be silent in opening the door. peaking your head out and checking that both ways were clear, you slipped out and closed the door behind you, walking on your toes as you snuck through the house and out a backdoor that led into the fields.

you did your best to stay low and out of sight as you bolted through the fields towards the boundary stones, trying to remember who would be on surveillance — you couldn’t for the life of you remember, despite your best efforts to eavesdrop on your cousin's conversation earlier.

hell, you weren’t even sure you would see him.

sometimes you did, other times you didn’t — weeks would pass sometimes before you saw him again. sometimes it was hours before you saw him, sat, pulling at grass as you waited, knees to your chest.

today felt like one of those days, as you approached the river, out of sight from any prying eyes and sat by the edge, your eyes straining to see through the dark. the moon did little to penetrate the dense patch of trees. as the hours passed, your head had begun to drop against your knees, dozing off. there would be no way of keeping yourself awake all night, after a long day, opting as a last ditch attempt to awaken your senses by dipping your toes into the stream as you kicked off your shoes.

the water was a nice welcome in the heat, a content sigh leaving your mouth as you kicked your feet; splashing the water upwards. the wait seemed to drag on forever, growing impatient and trying to decide on whether to return home or not.

you’d give him another hour at most. If he didn’t come, then you would go home.

your gaze scanned the river, serene and peaceful as the rushing body of water sloshed around your feet; cool and refreshing. you’d have time.

you stood back from the water and fumbled to strip down to your chemise, discarding the dress to the grass by your shoes before easing down and into the water, letting out a hiss. slowly, wadding into its shallow depths, you moved forward until the water touched your thighs, lapping at your body as you cupped some of the water between your hands and tossed it up in front of you.

“you’re far from home, lady bracken.”

your head whipped toward the sound of a voice from the treeline, water sloshing around your legs as you faced the boy who the voice belonged to. the ends of your skirt had been released in the turn into the water, feet tangling in the soft sand of the river’s floor, just catching yourself from falling into its rapid rush by the luck of the Gods; the ends of the fabric now soaked by the flowing water that swirled around you. there he stood, barely peeking out from the cover of the trees as if that would somehow conceal his identity, hugging close to the trunk of one while he watched you from his shaded spot. there was hardly any way of seeing him in the night, the moon’s light not quite reaching him but his voice -- you would know that voice anywhere.

you stepped forward, halfway across the shallow depths of the river that flowed between the two lands of bracken territory and blackwoods, the cold water just reaching mid-thigh as you looked up at him, “as are you.” you quipped, heart rate rapid as your heart thrummed against your ribs.

despite the limited visibility, you could see his mouth quirk up in a half-smile, his amusement clear as his head tipped to the side while his eyes continued to watch you closely like some sort of prey. the limited sense of vision allowed you the ability to hear as he inhaled through his nose, breathing outwardly before he finally stepped forward to the edge of the water, his hand at the hilt of his dagger on his hip as his eyebrows rose, “and do you always take moonlit strolls through my land?”

you stilled, hands resting at your sides as your fingers dipped into the cool water below you, the cold nipping at your fingertips, “only when called for— the night was too beautiful to resist.” you replied, chin lifted to look up towards where he towered over you, “and what’s your excuse?”

he snorted, boots shifting against the dirt with as he moved to widen his stance, “the same perhaps,” he said, eyes glancing up to the sky above the riverlands that was littered with stars, “or maybe I was hoping to find a curious lady wandering too close to my territory.” he said, his voice a low rumble.

there was nothing threatening about his tone, however, his body language said otherwise — his eyes scanning their surroundings before looking back to your face, his body suggesting that he was on edge. as though he expected bracken men to burst through the trees behind you any minute. you took another languid step forward, closer to enemy territory, the thrill of it never failing to excite you.

“are you suggesting I’m trespassing?” you asked, your words steady as you bordered taunting the man who eyed you.

you could see as he squinted, narrowing his eyes at your words, “just…observing that you’re quite far from where you’re supposed to be at this hour, my lady.”

you hummed, eyebrows raised as the water continued to lap at the fabric of the cream coloured chemise that had been worn underneath the dress of typical bracken colours of yellow and brown having been discarded at the edge of the grass. you could see the moment his eyes lowered to scan down the length of the fabric, disappearing into the water and drifting higher up your thighs, bordering translucent against your skin, slow in dragging his eyes along the length of your body, “but i suppose the river doesn’t care for borders, does it?” he suddenly asked, his eyes returning to meet yours.

your mouth curved upwards, a wry smile on your face as his gaze emboldened you, “no it doesn’t, but neither do I, it seems. I don’t believe the assize said anything about the river.”

benjicot tutted condescendingly at her, smug as his hands shifted over his dagger, “careful, you're starting to sound like your cousin, bracken.” he warned, tone sharp, “do you not ever worry about what might be lurking in the shadows? his words came lighter now, the tension gone from his voice.

you let out a dry laugh, beginning to feel the effects of the frosty water that reached your hips the further you wadded, a cool breeze causing your skin to prickle with goosebumps. you shivered, sucking in a deep breath through clenched teeth, “only when they carry a dagger and a half-smile, I suppose.” you said.

his hands twitched, the grasp at his blade loosening as he seemed to contemplate reaching forward to drag you from the water at the sight of your shivering frame. however, he stopped himself and instead lifted his chin, mouth pressing into a tight smile, “then its a good thing I’m in a benevolent mood tonight.”

your head lowered to look down at the water, using your fingers to skim its surface, “I will take my chances.” you confidently said, lifting your gaze after a moment of pause.

he let out a ‘hmph’ sound, watching as you slowly closed the gap between the two lands to stand directly in front of him, the water shallow once again and only meeting mid-thigh. the now soaked gown did nothing to provide any ounce of modesty, sheer and clinging to your lower half as you stared up at him. your eyes followed his movements as he crouched, bringing him eye-to-eye as an elbow planted against one of his knees, “well, I suggest you be careful, my lady. the night is full of dangers.” he said, his voice low and quiet.

“and so is the day, but I’ve never been one to shy away from either.” you said, voice matching his volume before you stepped forward until you stood against the ledge, your other hand planting in the grass just between his boots as you lifted your right hand toward him, “are you going to help me or shall I call for my men?” you taunted, a grin on your face.

he rolled his eyes, smile broadening as he stood upright and bent to grab your hand, using his strength to pull you up and over the ledge, out of the waters with ease. you were brought to your feet, stood face-to-face with him, his face leaning close to yours as he spoke, “you wouldn’t dare.” he muttered, “how do you plan then, to explain your presence so close to blackwood land at this hour? alone, in a nightgown, with the heir?”

your chest brushed his as you leaned in towards him, “I’ll figure something out— you underestimate me.”

he hummed with a nod, his nose bumping yours in the close proximity. though his mouth did not yet make contact with yours, his breath fanned over lips, his eyes scanning your face, “oh, I’m sure you will. but do you think they will believe you?” he asked, the lazy smirk on his face laced with arrogance, “do you think there won’t be whispers? said whispers, questioning your maidenhead?”

“they’d be foolish to make such accusations against the daughter of amos bracken.” you countered, shoulders squaring with pride.

the man in front of you let out a sardonic chortle, releasing the hilt of his dagger and finding your hip, gripping the fabric of your chemise in his fist, stepping back and forcing you with him, “oh please.” he mocked, his hand dropping from your hip to reach down to your thigh and begin to hoist the soaked fabric upwards towards your waist, leaving you bear to the elements, “if only they could see their lord’s daughter, out parading herself like some whore on blackwood land. What do you think they would say then, hm?”

“‘Tis not their business what I do, nor my father’s.” you muttered.

“oh but i think they might say otherwise. you’re a noblewoman,” he jeered, his knuckles brushing against the bare skin of your belly as his hand dipped below your naval, “a highborn womb.”

you knew benjicot did not share their views -- in the very few occasions he had opened up during your late night escapades, red in the face with anger, rambling on about the audacity of his councilmen as he dressed. he had ranted about what the very outlook had done to his mother, that women were more than for breeding. but he enjoyed knocking you down a peg sometimes, humbling you back down to earth during these moments. he liked to mock the sanctity of your womanhood, even if for a moment, but then he would go back on himself and praise you once all was said and done — praise the very thing he mocked. However, on this particular night, something about his words lit the flames of pure, feminine rage, staring eye to eye with the man you had visited countless times over the past months.

“I am more than that.” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady.

he let out a melancholic hum, “you think so?”

he spoke to you like you were a child, who lived under the guise of a delusion — like a childish dream that you were expected to grow out of. the tone of his voice, paired by the sudden feeling of his hand between your thighs bred a slew of confusing emotions to spread within your chest; shamed and desperate, humiliated and seething as his fingers found the sensitive bud between folds that were slick with arousal that had you hot with embarrassment, fingers gliding up along your folds as you gritted your teeth, “how dare you—!”

the nature of his words stung when you knew how much he despised when other men looked down on women the way you had grown accustomed to; somehow after he had entrusted you enough to open up to you, he still had the nerve to throw it in your face—

he caught your hand that came up towards his throat, eyebrows raising as if to warn you, a grin on his mouth as his hand between your thighs stilled, “no need to be so hostile, sweet girl.” he said, guiding your hand down to your side as he moved to drive your back towards a tree, that hand coming to hold your chin in the space between his thumb and fingers, “I know you are a brave, resilient woman…” he quietly muttered, face coming close to yours and trapping you between his body and the tree, a knee coming between your thighs.

despite the rage that still burned within you, scorching like a wildfire, the warm contrast of his fingers on cold skin was welcomed; jolting up as his fingers pressed against you, fingers circling the bud and earning a soft sigh of a moan as you reached out to grab him, pulling him closer as though you were trying to crawl underneath his skin and become one. His mouth finally made contact, attaching itself to your throat and placing open-mouthed kisses to the skin, nipping the delicate skin with his teeth as his fingers worked against you.

“my clever, beautiful girl.” he praised, mouth reaching your collarbones.

you belly clenched, another moan elicited by his words as your hands fisted the cloak around his shoulders, his hand moving briefly to tug the fabric of your gown back up and out of his way as it dropped from its place around your hips. benjicot had a way of leaving you breathless and desperate, a flustered mess under his touch, the only man that could draw out the carnal sounds of pleasure; broken sighs and crying out as his middle and ring finger pushed themselves into you.

by the roots of his hair, you brought a hand to the back of his head and tugged him towards your mouth, his lips encapsulating yours in a feverish kiss; all teeth and tongue. you cried out, muffled by his mouth, as his thumb continued the prior pace, rubbing blind shapes into your clit as your mouth dropped open, too distracted by experienced fingers that slipped in and out of you with ease to reciprocate the kiss, “oh—, fuck.”

“yes, just like that,” he encouraged, voice soft. “just relax, my love.”

the weeks of pent up hunger and anticipation for this moment curled within you, settling into your lower belly, thighs attempting to clench around his hand. though you were stopped by the firm, strong thigh that had been planted there to prevent such from happening, his hips pressing into yours.

“ben, please…” you cried out, beginning to become overwhelmed between his mouth that returned to your throat and his hand, his pace increasing.

rather instead, he knelt suddenly, head buried beneath the thin chemise that draped over his head as he leaned into you. his shoulders brushed your thighs as his mouth replaced his thumb’s task, latching to the bundle of nerves and leaving you gasping, gripping his hair as your chest heaved. a low groan vibrated through your core from the man below you, reaching every end and nerve of your body as you struggled to keep up on your feet as your peak washed over you. his arm wrapped up underneath your right thigh, holding you against him and pressing against your hip as if that would somehow ground you as you nearly collapsed against him, your entire body alight as your walls squeezed around his fingers, clenching so tight it could restrict movement.

he was barely any gentler as he reemerged from your skirts, your head slumped back against the tree as he stood to tower over you once more, using the fabric of your gown to hold you up and practically manhandle you up against the tree that scraped your skin with each move. loose strands of hair had freed themselves from the half done up style, hanging in your face as you panted, mouth agape as you looked up at him; lips glistening with the reminisce of you — your cheeks heated with embarrassment, reaching out to touch his cheek.

he was beautiful, especially with you on his lips.

you dropped your hand and pulled him towards you by his hips, using the belt to your advantage to jerk him forward, his own lazy smirk mirrored by your tired smile as your hands fumbled to undo the laces of his pants. he aided in the task, skillful fingers pulling them with ease and shoving his pants down just enough that they sat high on his thighs, freeing his hardened cock from their confinement, your hand instinctively coming down to wrap around the length and stroke him. his lips parted above you, hands coming to cup your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks as his nose nudged yours.

you could have stayed there forever, in that moment — with the sight before you, a flush in his face as he appeared fucked out already, hair in a disarray from your fingers.

he reached across his chest to undo the clasp of his cloak, dropping it from his shoulders; getting rid of the only shield that hid you from any potential prying eyes — if anyone burst through the bushes then, there would be no hiding the act and it would be without any doubt what was happening.

‘parading herself like a whore on Blackwood land’

benjicot would be correct. if your cousins had dared to wander close to the borderlands again, you would be done for. there would be no protecting any ounce of your dignity and modesty at that point — you would be shamed by your entire family, and even worse, your father…he would be beyond furious and nothing less than gutted.

the thought and feeling of sheer shame it brought had you clinging close to the man in front of you, his body easily capable of concealing yours as one hand went above your shoulder to the tree, too blissed out to put an end to this and go home right then as his mouth pressed to yours in a sweet, affectionate kiss. you moaned against his mouth, his hand replacing yours around his cock to glide it up along your slit; gathering the slick as a means to lubricate the head of his cock, that already leaked pre-cum that mingled with your own arousal, the tip red and angry.

you braced against the tree, trying to regain footing, nearly slipping into him. he steadied you with the arm above your shoulder, wrapped around your ribs and forcing your chest against his as he slid into you, earning a gasp, breaths mingling as your own arm wrapped around his shoulders; clutching to him like your life depended on it — and in some ways, it did.

he held you up against the tree, having to shove the fabric of his tunic and doublet high up on his hips out of the way as he thrusted up into yours. each movement of his hips, shallow due to the position, his pelvis brushed against your clit, providing enough stimulation to leave you struggling for air as you fisted his clothing in your hands.

“fuck…” he rasped, lips brushing your own as they parted, each breath from his mouth sucked into your lungs as you relied on him for the strength to stay upright, slumping into him.

you were a jumbled, incoherent series of sounds as any paranoid thought of fearing your cousin's appearance went out the window, all consumed by him. your leg lifted by his hand guiding it by the back of your knee, thigh hooking around his hip and pulling him further, deeper into you and releasing a sob. you felt so full, it physically ached, walls clenching down around him and eliciting a hiss of air from him.

the sound of a branch cracking somewhere in the distance of the bushes caused you to jolt against him, eyes peering over his shoulder, wide and panicked as the thought crossed your mind again just how open you were to being exposed. you had done this time and time again, but never with his own men just several feet from the bush you were hidden among, and never during a war that had everyone on edge. the looming war had your father in particular paranoid, leading to an increase in fleets that surveyed the boundaries of bracken’s land and the thought instilled again, that fear that you could be caught.

as if he sensed your worry, his mouth caught yours in another kiss, forehead pressing to yours, “my love…” he muttered, bringing your attention back to him.

and he was successful, your gaze doing one last scan and straining into the dark before you were faced with his tired, lust-filled face, his cheeks flushed and striking even in the dark. the sweet name swelled your chest with adoration, your breath quick as you let out a moan, spiraling into bliss against him as his hand came between you to once again rub against your clit.

“ben, i can’t— please—“ the sound was weak and feeble, choked out and gasping for air as your body burned.

it was met by deaf ears as he gently shushed you, his mouth grazing yours, cock relentlessly rutting up into you with desperation — seeking for release as your walls fluttered around him. the groan he released was animalistic, deep from within his chest and carnal as you clutched onto him, struggling to keep yourself up against him and pulling him into you; seeking some kind of anchor to keep you grounded as his hand on your clit worked in unfaltering shapes that had you weak.

a final sob of pleasure left you as you clamped down around him, body tense and slumping against his as you released yourself around him. the final plea of his name and your walls were followed by a few sharp, final thrusts as he released his seed into you; fucking it deeper into you with a deep sigh of your name, a hand coming to your throat as he glanced down, his forehead resting against your chin.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

you stepped up onto the riverbank of your family’s side; thighs still aching while benjicot’s hand supported you from behind before he too crawled up behind you, not seeming to care that he was now soaked from his thighs down. He stood back, allowing you a silent moment to wring out your dress of any water as best you could, hands twisting the fabric and letting out a grunt of exertion before letting it drop back down to your feet. You bent to collect your dress, benjicot finally stepped forward to help in your task of redressing, hands smoothing the fabric over your hips and straightening your shoulders with a gaze down, not daring to make eye contact.

you both knew this could have been the last time you saw each other, the dawning realization casting an awkward, tense silence over the two of you as you eyed the fabric of his doublet; making a mental note of its ridges, the pattern of the woven article of clothing. he tensed as you lifted a hand to touch the fabric with your fingers, too intimate a gesture as fingers ran across his chest and up towards his shoulder before stilling there, your palm coming to place over his heart.

“when are you to marry the…” he began to ask, his face screwing up in disgust at the idea as he spat out the name, “Lefford boy.”

you gaze only briefly lifted towards his face when he spoke, a small snort leaving you at his reaction and smiling softly at his antics. The smile dropped after a moment, though, inhaling and sighting out a breath as you straightened out his own clothing with gentle tugs, brushing over the fabrics, “two nights from today.” you quietly replied.

he made a sound of disapproval, his gaze on your face as you finally looked him in the eye again, his hand rising to capture your wrist in his hold. You had heard the whispers as well throughout the halls of stone hedge, trying to picture it as you looked at him, “I hear rumors you’re to be married, too.” you pointed out, his face twitching.

he released your wrist, stepping back and looking towards his feet as he fixed his sleeves, “My father plans to betroth me against my will.” He admitted, his words a grumble as he shook out his arms and looked up at you again.

you nodded, “who? has he said anything of his intentions?”

“some girl.” he admitted, shaking his head with a shrug of his shoulders, cheeks expanding with a sigh, “the lord paramount’s granddaughter, I suppose.”

you smiled, tilting your head as you looked at him, “serra tully, right? that’s her name, yes?”

“unfortunately.” he grumbled in complaint.

“she’s quite beautiful, I hear.”

he shrugged again, letting out another grunt.

“well, you should probably be on your way,” you said, hands folding behind you as he looked across the river, the sun already beginning to come up. “your men will be looking for you soon.”

benjicot nodded, stepping forward and reluctantly reaching out to your waist, fingers gently pressing into your sides as he leaned forward to press a sweet kiss to your mouth, “I will see you soon.” He said as he withdrew from your mouth, face still hovering close.

you raised a hand and pressed it to his cheek, smiling as you looked up at him, “yes. maybe.”

his eyes rolled as you lifted a hand as if to gesture ‘just as I suspected’, looking over you as a sharp whistle sounded from somewhere beyond the trees from his camp, hands dropping from your sides and straightening the belt at his hips; you watched as his fingers went to the dagger at his right hip, removing it from its sheath, much to your confusion. He withdrew it and used his free hand to pull one of yours forward, pressing the blade into your palm and looking at you, “a wedding gift.” He quietly said.

you looked down at the blade, frowning and blinking rapidly a couple of times before looking up at him, mouth opened in a stutter, “benjicot, I- I can’t accept this. you might need-”

“I have plenty back home,” he assured, wrapping your fingers around the handle of it and licking his lips that were then pressed into a line that resembled an amused smile, “have it…in case that Lefford boy ever pisses you off.”

you let out a laugh, a smile coming to his face as your hand dropped from his, the dagger clutched by your side, “very charming of you.”

He chuckled and pressed another quick kiss to your forehead before he brushed past you, hurrying into the river with a splash and sloshing back in the direction he had come from. you watched as he climbed out of the water, entering back out onto blackwood territory and giving one last glance as he retreated back into the trees.

[ohnoitstbskyen]

PINNED POST, FAQ, INFORMATION

Hi, I'm TBSkyen. I make videos on YouTube sometimes. This is my main tumblr blog, the "brand" blog as it were. I also have a sideblog called @tbposting which is for shitposts and reblog spam and the occasional funny observation.

You can find me in most places online as TBSkyen.

Here's my Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/tbskyen.com

Here's my main YouTube channel: https://youtube.com/@tbskyen

Here is my short-form YouTube channel: https://youtube.com/@tbskyenshorts

Here's my rambly spam-and-reactions channel where I will spend an entire whole hour frame-by-frame gushing over cool animation and such: https://youtube.com/@3bskyen

And here's my Linktree where all of those links are collected and easily accessible: https://linktr.ee/tbskyen

About Me

I am a thirtysomething content creator whose primary expertise is character design.

I have a bachelor's degree in English, never finished my master's, did most of a bachelor's degree in history, and that's it. These are my academic qualifications, no more and no less.

My professional experience is primarily being a freelancer and self-employed creator. I spent the better part of a decade working as a commission artist, running webcomics, drawing fanart, and the occasional animation work and not safe for work commissions, and I have at this point a decade of experience and self-study in the subjects I cover. I have also done online community management for, god help me, almost twenty years, so that's a part of my skillset I'll never escape.

I do not have any particular professional creative industry experience, although given what I hear from my professional friends, sometimes that seems like a blessing.

Please maintain a critical distance when engaging with my work. I am a critic. My work is very rarely meant to be taken as authoritative or didactic, and when it is, I will make it clear in my writing. Just because I speak with confidence doesn't mean I am trying to assert objective truth.

---

TAGS (to follow, or filter)

#tbanswers is the tag for every single ask I answer on this blog

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#tb recommends is for the occasional recommendation of a video essay or other creator

Yes, I know the spaces are inconsistent. It's not on purpose, I just typed them in haphazardly when I started using them and it's stuck.

---

FAQ (before you ask)

Q: Will you ever do a video about ____ ? A: The answer to this question is almost universally "maybe someday, if I have time, and if I feel I have anything worthwhile to say." And the more realistic answer is "no, because I already have far too much on my plate and I have burned myself out too many times." In general, please don't ask me this question, I will most likely not answer it because I have given the same answer a thousand times, but I still feel guilty about not answering them.

Q: Will you continue your series of videos about ____ ? A: Yes! I will continue the let's plays I started, I will finish the Boss Designs series, I will do another What's the Deal With, I will do more shorts about the subjects I've got going on. The main obstacle is, again, my tendency to overload myself.

Q: Do you have a PO box? Can I send you something? A: Not yet, but I'm looking into it. It may be a while before I get it set up.

Q: Do you have merchandise? A: A little bit, yes, at crowdmade.com/collections/tbskyen

Q: What's your opinion on [game/movie/comic/book/etc]? A: I struggle to answer very open, broad questions like this. Most things I have opinions about, I have multiple opinions, and different ones depending on the perspective and specific element in question. I'm much more likely to answer specific, bounded questions.

Q: Can I send you fanart? A: PLEASE. Askbox, tag me on bluesky, send it to my email! I love seeing every piece of it!

Q: Why do you never appear on camera? A: A forest witch cursed me to look not quite but ALMOST like Paul Giamatti in all photos and videos ever taken of me, and his laywers sent me a cease-and-desist.

Q: Are you gay/straight/bi/other? A: The decision I've made for myself, at least for this period of my life, is that privacy is precious, and once given up can never be reclaimed on the internet. I am open about being aromantic (not asexual), because it's a sometimes invisible and underdiscussed identity, and I know it would have helped me a lot to see someone speak about it when I was younger.

The rest of it is for me to know, and for you to speculate about, although preferably somewhere I can't see it. I accept that this is a part of being a Personality, but it still feels weird, y'know?

Q: Is it weird if I find your voice kinda hot? A: I've put a lot of work into developing this voice and making it nice to listen to, so that's not weird at all and I find it quite complimentary, thank you.

I generally don't mind people doing flirty/thirsty posting about or at me, just so long as we all understand that 1) you should never give a stranger like me information which could be used to harm you. Nicer-seeming YouTubers than me have turned out to be monsters.

And 2) it will never go beyond playful online flirtiness. I like to fluster my live chat, I'll flirt back in an ask or a post maybe, but I am not flirting with you, or inviting any kind of closer intimacy with you, the person I responded to.

Think of me like a comedian doing crowd-work at a show - you can chat to me in the bar after the show, but when I asked you what you do for work I wasn't looking for a personal connection, I was doing my work as an entertainer. Please no sending me nudes, or propositions, or confession letters in my email inbox. We are strangers, and I am always performing a persona in public.

[earthlybeam]

Hi, I just recently started rewatching and getting back into the Hobbit and LOTR and I found your blood and I’m in love with it. I love the way you write and how you portray the characters so well. If you’re still writing for LOTR and are accepting requests then could I ask how you think the elves (Legolas, Thranduil, and Elrond plus whoever else you like) would react to an aggressively affectionate reader? Like for example, with cuteness aggression, randomly when the reader sees Legolas and thinks he’s cute, they end up jumping on him and tackling him, possibly squeezing him extremely hard in a hug. The reader’s acts of aggression affection are random and happen whenever and wherever. The reader just loves their elf so much that they cannot control themselves. Please and thank you

Welcome back to the wonderful world of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings! It’s always exciting to revisit Middle-earth, and I’m so glad you’re enjoying it all over again. 🎉 And wow—thank you so much for your kind words! That truly means the world to me. Writing for these characters is such a joy, and knowing that you love how I portray them makes it even more special. 🫶 I absolutely love your idea! The contrast between the elves’ usual grace and composure and a reader who just cannot contain their love is hilarious and adorable. 🤣🤌

Thranduil, Elrond, Legolas and I added Gil-galad all versions below.

🍷𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓾𝓲𝓵

The grand halls of Thranduil’s palace shimmered with the golden light of lanterns, their glow casting long, elegant shadows across the polished stone floor. Delicate carvings of twisting vines and woodland creatures adorned the archways, the very walls seeming to hum with ancient whispers of the forest. It was a place of quiet grandeur, of timeless elegance.

And standing near the entrance, draped in robes of deep forest green, was Thranduil—King of the Woodland Realm, ruler of the elves of Mirkwood, a figure of both awe and intimidation. His silver circlet rested regally upon his head, catching the flickering light with an almost ethereal glow. His expression was composed, unreadable, though there was a certain tightness at the corners of his mouth—an unspoken exasperation that only those who truly knew him might recognize.

He should have already been on his way, attending to whatever pressing matter awaited him beyond these halls. He had responsibilities, duties, obligations that demanded his attention. And yet… He could not move.

Because there you were—wrapped around his leg like an overgrown, determined koala, clinging as if your very life depended on it. The long, elegant lines of his robes pooled around you as you anchored yourself to him, arms and legs locked in a vice-like grip. Your cheek was pressed against the fine embroidery of his outer cloak, and from the way you stubbornly tightened your hold, it was clear you had no intention of letting go anytime soon.

Thranduil’s sharp, ice-blue gaze flicked downward, his expression a mask of pure disbelief. “…What,” he intoned, his voice as smooth as polished glass, “do you think you are doing?” You barely lifted your head, merely nuzzling further into the warmth of his robes. “No.” A single, elegant brow arched. “No?” You buried your face fully against the intricate designs woven into his attire, voice muffled but determined. “You’re leaving.”

“I am the King,” he reminded you coolly, the words carrying the weight of centuries of command. “I have responsibilities.”

“I don’t care,” you mumbled. Your grip tightened like a vice. “You’re too pretty to leave.” A long, heavy pause. Somewhere in the vast expanse of the hall, a nearby guard shifted awkwardly, very pointedly averting his gaze, as if pretending he wasn’t witnessing this absurd display. The soft rustle of banners and the faint flickering of candlelight were the only sounds that filled the air.

Thranduil exhaled a slow, suffering breath. By the stars, why were you like this? He could handle many things. He had led his people through war and shadow, navigated the treacherous politics of Middle-earth, survived centuries of rule in a realm beset by growing darkness. He had faced down dragons, battled the forces of Sauron, endured loss and grief that could break lesser beings. But this? This unrelenting, absurd display of affection that completely ignored all notions of decorum, personal space, and reason? He did not know what to do with you. “You will release me at once,” he commanded, his voice edged with warning.

You shook your head. “No.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. Thranduil’s lips pressed into a thin line. He was a king. A ruler of elves. A warrior who had seen battle. And yet he was currently being held hostage by a stubborn, overaffectionate mortal who refused to let go of his leg. “Do you truly intend to remain attached to me like this all day?”

“Yes.” Silence. The faintest flicker of something almost imperceptible crossed his features—something caught between frustration and bewilderment. His fingers twitched at his sides, as if considering his next move. Infuriating. Absolutely infuriating. And yet, despite the exasperation curling in his chest, there was something else, something he could not quite name. A warmth. A quiet amusement, buried so deep beneath layers of centuries-old restraint that it barely made itself known. No one had ever dared to cling to him like this. Not as a king. Not as a warrior. Not as Thranduil.

He was Thranduil, son of Oropher, King of the Woodland Realm. His presence alone was enough to command both awe and fear. Yet you clung to him like he was just… yours. He sighed heavily, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, as if summoning patience he did not have. And then, without another word, he moved. In one fluid, effortless motion, he bent down, wrapped an arm around your waist, and lifted you clean off the ground. The world tilted. You let out a small yelp as you were suddenly airborne. “Hey—!”

He adjusted you in his arms with practiced ease, cradling you against his chest as if you weighed nothing at all. His grip was firm but careful, one arm secured around your lower back while the other supported you effortlessly. “If you insist on behaving like a child,” he murmured, his tone smooth and unimpressed, “then I shall carry you as one.”

You blinked up at him, momentarily stunned. The sheer ease with which he had lifted you left you momentarily speechless. He didn’t even seem strained. The scent of his robes—fresh pine, autumn leaves, and something distinctly Elven—wrapped around you, grounding you in his presence. For a moment, all you could do was stare. And though his expression remained regal, unreadable, you did not miss the way his grip subtly lingered.

Without another word, he began walking. Through the grand halls, past the ever-watchful eyes of his guards, Thranduil carried you as though you were nothing more than an inconvenient parcel he had been forced to bring along. His posture remained flawless, his pace even, utterly unaffected by your weight. You, however, grinned up at him, mischief dancing in your eyes. “See?” you hummed, tilting your head in his arms. “This is nice.” Thranduil did not dignify you with a response. Instead, he merely muttered something in Elvish under his breath—something you suspected was not particularly flattering. But he did not let go.

📜 𝓔𝓵𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓭

The Council of Elrond was meant to be a place of solemn discussion, a gathering of minds to determine the fate of Middle-earth. It was a time for wisdom, for deliberation, for diplomacy. It was not meant for this. At the head of the long table, Elrond stood with effortless grace, a pillar of composure and dignity. His robes, flowing and regal, caught the light of the midday sun filtering through the high arched windows of Rivendell’s great hall, the silken fabric shifting with the movement of his breath. His hands, long and elegant, rested lightly upon the polished wood as he spoke, his voice measured, calm, and steady—each word imbued with the weight of centuries.

The gathered council members—elves, dwarves, and men alike—listened intently, their expressions ranging from grave contemplation to hesitant agreement. Some nodded in silent accord, others furrowed their brows as they pondered his wisdom, but all remained enraptured by the Lord of Rivendell’s presence.

His back was turned to you. And you, seated among the others, were watching him—watching the way he carried himself, poised yet powerful, a figure carved from both wisdom and war. He was too graceful, too composed, too breathtaking for his own good. And you loved him. You loved him so much it made something in your chest ache. Which was why, in an act of pure, unfiltered instinct, you launched yourself from your seat and sprinted toward him at full speed.

The world blurred at the edges. There was no room for thought, no space for hesitation—only the singular, all-encompassing need to be close to him. The air rushed past you, the murmuring voices of the council fading into the distance, drowned out by the pounding of your heart and the sudden intake of breath from those around you. Elrond, for all his centuries of wisdom and foresight, had precisely half a second to sense the shift in atmosphere before it was too late.

The impact was swift and merciless. Your weight collided into him with full force, your arms locking around his shoulders just as your momentum propelled him forward. A startled inhale—sharp, indignant, and vaguely resembling a half-formed Elvish curse—escaped him as he pitched forward, his long fingers shooting out to brace himself against the council table. The polished wood groaned under the sudden weight of an Elf-lord and his very enthusiastic assailant.

Scrolls tumbled to the floor in an unceremonious cascade of parchment. A goblet tipped onto its side, spilling deep red wine dangerously close to a very alarmed dwarf, who yelped and jerked his legs away just in time. A quill snapped in half beneath an abandoned tome. Someone audibly gasped.

And you? You clung to him like your life depended on it. Elrond exhaled, slowly and deliberately, his forehead lowering to meet the table in what could only be described as the ultimate gesture of long-suffering patience. His back remained straight despite the additional weight, his arms still outstretched in a bracing position, his chest rising and falling in a manner that suggested he was counting to ten in Quenya before deciding how best to proceed.

The council chamber had fallen into absolute silence. Elrond did not move. Neither did you. The only sound was the faint rustling of fabric as you nestled against him, your face buried in the crook of his neck, your breath warm against his skin. A long, long sigh escaped him. “Mellon nín,” he said at last, his voice as even as ever, though beneath it lay a complex weave of emotions—resignation, exasperation, and, buried so deep it was nearly imperceptible, the tiniest sliver of amusement. “Was this absolutely necessary?”

Without lifting your head, you nuzzled into his shoulder, entirely unrepentant. “Yes.” His fingers twitched where they lay upon the table—whether from the urge to pry you off or pull you closer, even he wasn’t entirely sure. A chair scraped against the stone floor as one of the men leaned forward, brow deeply furrowed. “…Is this… normal?” From his seat, Gandalf let out a quiet chuckle, stroking his beard with twinkling amusement. “Ah, young love,” he mused. “Quite… enthusiastic, in this case.”

Elrond closed his eyes briefly, as if beseeching the Valar for strength. He was a Lord of Rivendell. He had led armies into battle, forged alliances with kings, stood against the darkness of Sauron himself. And yet, here he was—bent over a council table, carrying the full weight of someone who had, quite literally, thrown themselves at him in the middle of one of the most important meetings in the history of Middle-earth.

Still pinned beneath you, still braced against the table, Elrond finally turned his head just enough for you to see his face. His expression was unreadable at first—his brows slightly drawn, his lips pressed into a firm line, the very image of composed dignity fraying at the edges. But there, in the smallest crease at the corner of his mouth, was something else.

A smirk. A very small, very restrained smirk. “Are you quite finished?” he murmured, voice pitched just low enough for only you to hear. You grinned against his shoulder, squeezing him just a little tighter. “Not even close.” Elrond inhaled deeply through his nose. He did not move. He did not protest. He simply accepted his fate.

🍃𝓛𝓮𝓰𝓸𝓵𝓪𝓼

The moonlight bathed the clearing in silver, casting an ethereal glow upon Legolas as he stood at the edge of the trees. The gentle night breeze stirred his golden hair, making him look like something out of a dream—untouchable, otherworldly, perfect. His sharp gaze was fixed on the distant horizon, lost in thought, the weight of centuries pressing upon his immortal soul. And then—A blur. A rush of footsteps. A sudden, breathless surge of movement cutting through the quiet of the night.

Before Legolas could fully register what was happening, an impact slammed into him with startling force. Strong arms wrapped around his torso, squeezing with unrelenting affection. His body staggered back under the sheer intensity of it, boots skidding against the soft earth, his normally impeccable balance momentarily thrown off. His hands instinctively caught hold of the figure assaulting him, fingers gripping tightly to steady both of them.

His first thought? An ambush? No—there was no malice, no danger. Only warmth. Only the frantic beating of a heart pressed against his chest, the breathless laughter of the one person in Middle-earth who would dare launch themselves at an Elven warrior in such a reckless manner.

“Mellon nîn—” he exhaled, his voice a mix of bemusement and disbelief. Youonly clung tighter, your face buried against his shoulder, arms locked around his waist in an unbreakable grip. “You’re too pretty,” you mumbled into his tunic, your voice muffled but no less desperate in its declaration. “I can’t take it anymore.”

Legolas blinked, his mind catching up with the absurdity of the situation. Was this… an attack of love? A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest, still breathless from the unexpected tackle. “And for this, you choose to strike me down?” he asked, amusement laced in his tone, though his arms had unconsciously wrapped around you in return.

You lifted your head slightly, your eyes gleaming with pure, unfiltered adoration. “Yes.” Your answer was simple, as if there was no other possible explanation. “You were standing there looking all beautiful and tragic under the moonlight, and I just—” You squeezed him tighter. “—I just had to do something about it.”

Legolas sighed, though the corners of his lips betrayed him by curving into a small, helpless smile. He was not used to this—this overwhelming, impulsive affection. Elves did not love in such a chaotic manner. Their passion was deep, but it was slow-burning, controlled, and tempered with time. But you… you loved as fiercely as a firestorm, with all the grace of a hurricane, and he—he was powerless against it.

“You are relentless,” he murmured, but there was no reprimand in his voice. Only quiet wonder. “Yes, I am.” You lifted your head fully now, eyes locked onto his, still latched onto him as though you had no intention of ever letting go. “And you’re stuck with me, so get used to it.”

Legolas simply looked at you, his arms still securely wrapped around your waist, his heart doing something strange and unfamiliar in his chest. He had faced countless battles, had stared down creatures of shadow and flame, had fought against the tides of darkness for centuries without flinching— And yet, here, held within your grasp, he felt utterly and completely conquered. “Then I shall endure it,” he murmured at last, his voice soft, reverent. “For as long as you wish it.”

🏵️𝓖𝓲𝓵-𝓰𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓭

Gil-galad sat in his study, his sharp blue eyes scanning the delicate script of an ancient elven manuscript. The flickering candlelight cast golden shadows across his regal features, highlighting the quiet intensity in his expression. His brows were slightly furrowed in concentration, his long fingers resting on the table as he contemplated the wisdom of ages past. His posture was perfect, dignified as always, radiating an air of calm authority.

But none of that mattered to you at this moment. Because as you sat across from him, watching his impossibly noble face, something inside you snapped. He was just too beautiful. Too serious. Too composed. And suddenly, an overwhelming need overtook you—a need so strong it nearly made you dizzy.

You had to squish his face. Before your rational mind could intervene, your hands shot forward, cupping his cheeks in your palms. His skin was smooth and cool beneath your touch, his cheekbones sharp yet softened by your fingers as you squeezed ever so slightly. His lips pursed slightly from the pressure, and his already strong jaw tensed in mild surprise.

Gil-galad froze. His piercing gaze, once lost in deep thought, now locked onto you with quiet disbelief. He did not pull away, did not even attempt to stop you—no, he simply blinked, utterly bewildered by what was happening to his very dignified royal face. “… What is this?” he finally asked, his voice calm but undeniably puzzled.

You barely heard him, too consumed by your own chaotic affection. His skin felt so soft. His cheekbones were so regal. He was like the world’s most serious, most elegant cat, and you could not help but give another gentle squeeze, watching as his expression remained caught between confusion and resigned amusement. “You’re too handsome for your own good,” you declared, your thumbs pressing lightly into the hollows of his cheeks. “It’s unfair. I had to do something about it.”

Gil-galad exhaled slowly, as if trying to process the sheer absurdity of the situation. Here he was, the High King of the Noldor, a warrior, a strategist, a ruler of Elves—and yet, here you were, treating him like a mischievous house pet in need of affectionate punishment. And the strangest part? He let you.

He did not remove your hands, did not chide you for your impulsiveness. He merely regarded you in silence, his face still gently smushed between your fingers, as if attempting to decipher how he had found himself in such a position. “If you are finished treating my face as though I were some—some petulant kitten…” he murmured, one brow lifting ever so slightly. You grinned, tilting his head slightly from side to side as if testing the optimal level of squish.

“… Not yet,” you admitted cheerfully. Another slow, measured blink. A pause. And then, ever so softly, the barest hint of a sigh—one that, if you listened closely enough, might have concealed a tiny trace of amusement. “Very well,” he relented, his deep voice tinged with something you almost mistook for indulgence. “Do as you must.” And so you did

[hawkofkrypton]

Yor’s outfit is discretely sensual and I love it.

Heya folks, allow me to elegantly hornypost for a bit. Grab thine drinks and snacks.

Yep, I am NOT talking about the Thorn Princess dress. That one is just SEXY sexy. But what she wears at home is, in my opinion, just as if not more sexy. Lets start from the obvious:

Bazongas. Yor, more often than not, is drawn with a MASSIVE chest, that the anime & manga barely focus on. That, alone, in my opinion makes it SO much hotter. Like, sure girl, go nonchalantly along with dem planets. Your comfy ass looking sweater creating this round, soft feel, mixed with a red between “sweet” and “passionate” is TOTALLY not hypnotizing.

Who NEEDS cleavage, when you got…

AN EXPOSED COLLARBONE FOR YOUR RAVEN HAIR TO FALL ONTO LIKE A WATERFALL. SURE. And the way the sweater goes down juuuuust enough to create the illusion of the middle point between “oh its falling” “oh its holding on”? Diabolical.

What else could it be hi-OH COME ON.

Loid, buddy. Broski. Bucko. I love and admire you for always trying to respect your wife’s boundaries, you’re an amazing man. But as soon as you two get intimate, dem hands BETTER be start sliding in this entrance.

Hell, not even necessarily to cup her chest while shes having a phone call and she’s trying to maintain a steady voice, no, thats too specific for someone to write. But man, if that opening doesn’t make you creative, WHAT will.

Honestly bro, if it wasn’t for her boots and Yor’s general character, I WOULD be torn on whether shes deadass wearing just a sweater and tights. Im pretty sure they’re just black pants. I think. I theorize. I game theorize. I wonder, and MAN I love how much her outfit makes me wonder.

Dem boots are just a great pick on general. Soft yet clear age, break the color scheme nicely, and in this picture theres even a lucky fudger under their heels. She could kill you with LESS.

10/10, Amazing outfit and character design no question.

[speaking-riddlish]

Thinking about how Riddlish is handled in cannon and in fics. I've seen people just put random things that happen to ryhm anytime they want someone to be speaking Riddlish and it's like, a minor pet peeve of mine? But every time we see Riddlish spoken in cannon, it kind of makes sense in a way? Like, if you think about what is said, and try to piece together any symbolism based on context, you can kind of understand what they're saying. Like Maddie said, "Riddlish is not an exact language". Putting together the metaphor and symbolism gives you the general idea of what they're getting across. And whenever a fic does this well, it's like an instant favorite.

Let's look at and dicect some cannon examples (I've always kind of found these facinating):

"Feathers and Friends, together alone!"

"Feathers" could refer to Raven, since she's named after a bird. She also has feathers fairly prominent in her character design, so it'd make sense for Giles to say this even though he doesn't know her name yet.

"and Friends" probably refers to Maddie, since she's known him for a while and is presumably his friend. It could also refer to their friendship, and maybe even be a way of including Raven in.

"together, alone" They're here with him, joining him in his solitude.

Putting it all together we get "Raven and Maddie, you're here! You came to visit me!" Which lines up pretty well with Maddie's translation of "he says it's nice to have us here!"

"Can a musical chair change its tone, when the tablet of granite is inscribed with a bone?"

"Can a musical chair change it's tone" The music in musical chairs is integral to the game, yet the song played does not come from the chair, but from the people playing. The tone of a musical chair is something fundamental about itself, and also something imposed by something outside itself. Can it change? Can something change something about itself that someone else has decided is fundamental?

"When the tablet of granite is inscribed with a bone?" A tablet of granite inscribed with something is literally that thing being written in stone, another reference to destiny and inevitability. And what's written on that stone is a bone, is death. Death is what is written in stone. Death is supposedly inevitable here.

From Raven's tone and terrified body language when asking Maddie to translate for her, it's fairly clear that the thing that wants to change is referring to Raven.

Putting it all together we get "Can Raven change from what others have said she's supposed to be, or is death the inevitable consequence of that like we've been told it is?" Which lines up pretty well with what Maddie was asked to translate: "What'll happen to me if I don't sign the book, am I really gonna disapear?"

"The king that sings with pages of sky fears too much the dawn that rises with lies"

"pages of sky" is in reference to the book, and maybe the fairytales themselves. The sky is often used to symbolically reference heaven and the divine. The book, determining people's destinies, fits fairly well into that category. It's almost like he's referring to the book as being from above.

"The king that sings with pages of sky" would then be Headmaster Grim. He's in a position of authority over the students like a king is to his subjects. He "sings with" the book/the stories with his constant insistence that people must sign the book and follow their stories, speaking in unison with them.

"fears too much" this part is fairly clear, Milton's paranoid. The consequences he thinks are inevitable aren't as inevitable as he claims.

"the dawn that rises with" would mean something like "the consequences of" or "the fallout from". Then there's one of two ways the rest could be. "lies" could refer to that which is contrary to what the stories say will happen. If you take the stories as "truth" then changing the stories would be "lies". Or, "rises with lies" could mean the consequences coming from Milton's lies being brought to light. The dawn rises as Milton's lies rise.

Yet the whole thing sounds rather foreboding, giving the impression that something is seriously wrong.

Bringing it all together, we either get "Headmaster Grim told you to follow your destiny because he's paranoid about what'll happen if you don't. But those fears are unfounded. Also something is very wrong." or "Headmaster Grim told you to follow your destiny because he's afraid of what will happen when people find out why you don't need to (and its emplied that that reason is something very bad)" This lines up fairly well with Maddie's translation of "There's something wrong with the book, and if you don't sign, your story will continue... I think". I like the touch that Maddie wasn't as confident in this translation, since the last phrase is more ambiguous. It's not really clear how the foreboding tone integrates into the message without more context than Maddie has, so Maddie doesn't really know what it means.

"The baby bird flies. The snake, it slithers. But the cage holds both, to die and to wither."

"The baby bird flies. The snake, it slithers." The baby bird and the snake are two very different creatures, they move and interact with the world in two totally different ways. Most people also would look more favorably on the baby bird than on the snake.

"but the cage holds both, to die and to wither." the cage doesn't care what is inside of it, it will indiscriminately hold them both captive. The things that make the baby bird different from the snake, and the adorable charms of the baby bird will not free the baby bird from the cage, nor will they protect the baby bird from the grisly fate that awaits it in the cage.

The context is also relevant, since she's talking to Alastair and Bunny, two of her subjects who have just been arrested, but also two of her daughter's friends.

Putting this all together we get "Yes, you enjoy privileges that others do not have, but my affection for you will not compromise my judgement. You are not above the law. I am not above punishing you like I would anynother citizen." While we don't have a cannon translation to compare this to, it seems to make sense. Its immediately followed up with her letting them off with a warning, and despite this interaction, Bunny later tells Lizzie that her mom really is a good queen, but that the curse has stressed her out. I think the Queen of Hearts probably made exploring illegal to protect people from the curse. If she really is a good queen, then this type of objectivity ("I don't care if you're my daughter's friends, crime is crime") would make total sense.

[back2bluesidex]

One Last Contract - MYG, JHS, KNJ

2. Curiosity Killed: None Yet

Pairing: Contract husband!Yoongi X contract wife!Reader, ft. Keeper!Namjoon and Ex-fiancé!Hoseok  

Theme: Mystery, angst, smut, dark, morally grey characters, soft yandere (no non-con or dub-con)

Summary: 

As a professional wife, you have no choice but to say yes to marry Min Yoongi - a mysterious yet intriguing man. But as you start living with him you discover things that meant be secrets, and it may end up being your ruin. Will your keeper aka bodyguard Namjoon and your ex-fiancé Hoseok, who abandoned you without any explanation, be able to pull you out of grasp of the man who you are falling for?

Warnings: soft yandere, implied meds addiction, mentions of death and abuse (nothing triggering). NSFW!!

Inspired from The Trunk (K-drama)

Banner designed by the utterly talented, the kindest, the nicest soul on earth, the one and only @kingofbodyrolls, Lissa. 😘😘😘💜💜💜

Minors do not interact!!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Patreon (For early access)

A/N: So, I am back bitches. enough of moping around, now it's the time for some dark stuff. after contemplating for some time, I decided to post the series here. but the future still depends on the engagement that I receive.

Read the full series on Patreon

Min yoongi moves like a shadow in his own house. 

Sometimes you think his feet are padded like a cat’s, hence, those make no sound when in the move. 

Whenever your eyes meet his, a cryptic smile crawls up on that beautifully pale face of his, as if he knows what exactly you are thinking. 

You have seen a ton of men in your lifetime but you have not seen another one like Yoongi. 

His father owns the biggest hotel chain of South Korea but he is a music producer. He produces music in his own small label that specializes in BGMs. 

Strange. 

Yes. Min Yoongi is quite strange but you find him intriguing and in a way similar to yourself. 

Just like Yoongi, you left your past behind and now you are running behind a future that’s as hazy as fog. You have no clarity but you don’t hate it at all. 

You don’t hate many things in life. 

You don’t love anything either. 

“What are you doing this afternoon?” Yoongi asks - his mouth is so close to your ears that you can smell the faint minty scent of his tooth paste. 

You don’t startle. 

“House chore.” you reply flatly. 

Things between you and Yoongi are rather flat and easy - unless you are fucking. 

“Ummm..” he moves away. From the beeping of the coffee machine you can tell he is ready to brew his morning coffee, “how about you come to my studio? The boys have been wanting to meet my new bride for some time.” 

Behind you, you can hear the coffee machine buzz. 

“How many people will be there?” you ask, cracking open an egg in a mid-sized clear glass bowl. 

“Four. five including me.” Yoongi replies. 

To any outsider, this scene will appear to be a sweet Wednesday morning with husband and wife going about their plans for the day, cooking together in the kitchen. Only if complications were visible - you are sure you would have a large storm cloud looming over your head. 

“Okay. I will be there. Text me the address.” you reply, pouring the egg in the pan. The sizzling sound blooms like music in your ears. 

Min Yoongi moves like a shadow in his own house. 

So, you don't realize when he nears you, wraps an arm around your waist and kisses you on the cheek. 

“Thanks Jagi.” he whispers in your ear again. 

A chill runs down your spine. 

Being a contract wife is still being a wife regardless of the arrangements. Thus, you get no relief from the house chore. And you like it this way. 

You like it when you have something to do. 

Having something to focus on means fighting less with your demons - remembering less what you left behind. 

You neatly fold all the clothes and smooth a hand over each of those. The fabric is soft and velvety. You wonder how much these costs. You wonder if Yoongi always wears materials like these. 

You wonder why you even care.

Your phone vibrates cutting through the chain of your thoughts. Kim Namjoon’s name appears on the screen. 

“Is everything alright?” the text reads.

Kim Namjoon is appointed by the company as your Keeper, in simpler words, your bodyguard. 

When the company got to know Yoongi’s “Undisclosed Reason” they decided to appoint their finest keeper as your personal security.

But if you are being honest, you feel more at ease with Yoongi than you have ever felt with Namjoon in your close proximity. 

After you witnessed him breaking the hand of a human being with no guilt, no remorse - you realized people often don’t look like what they actually are. 

With the build of a mountain and that fluffy golden blonde hair - Kim Namjoon appears to be godly. But deep down he pets a devil and lets it take him over when needed. 

“Yes.” you type and send your reply, then you recall you need to update him about your afternoon plans. 

“I am going to Min Yoongi’s workplace in an hour.” you type and send again. 

“Okay. I will be at the tail.” Namjoon replies in an instant. 

You have mastered the art of faking. 

Given the fact this is the most important skill for the job you do - you had to adhere to it and you did, that too, in record time. 

You look at the mirror, practice your smile - one, two and three times. 

As you look at your reflection, you find a single hair in your eyebrow that is slightly longer than the rest. 

Great. You have no tweezers with you. 

Leaving your room, you go to the master bathroom. You don’t expect to find any as Yoongi had lived alone in this house for a year after his ex-wife’s death. 

And just as you expect, you find no tweezer. 

Then you wander around Yoongi’s room - to his attached bathroom. 

As you open a cabinet that looks like a medicine container - you come across a dozen of white medicine bottles.

The labels read - Aripiprazole, Risperidone, Clozapine and Haloperidol. Turning one upside down you see a name written under the bottle. 

Ryu Seohyun. Yoongi’s ex-wife. 

You waste no time in pulling your phone out of your pocket, clicking pictures and sending those to Namjoon. 

“Can you find out what these are for?” you add a text. 

“Okay.” Namjoon replies after a minute. 

“This is Jeon Jeongguk, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung and Kim Seokjin Hyung.” Yoongi introduces one by one. 

You smile your practiced fake smile, everyone smiles back. 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N-ssi.” Kim Seokjin says. 

“Nice to meet you all too.” you reply, setting down the cartoon of coffee that you bought for them, “please enjoy.” 

“That’s so nice of you.” Kim Taehyung chimes in. 

“Jagi, how about we take our coffee to my studio?” Yoongi proposes, just when you are about to sit down. 

“Ohh.. Yoongi hyung, territorial huh?” Park Jimin teases. 

“I have always been very possessive about the things that I like.” Yoongi replies, tugging a loose strand of your hair, behind your ear. 

Yoongi traps you between him and his desk. 

Your waist meets the cold wood, you shiver a little. 

“You look nice.” his eyes dips down from your eyes to your lips, to your collarbone, to your bust. 

“Thanks.” your heart expands in your chest. 

Yoongi hooks his face on the crook of your neck. At first he sniffs and then starts placing open mouthed kisses on your skin. 

“Are you under some kind of medication?” you place your question carefully. 

Yoongi sucks on a spot on your neck, “why?” 

“I found some medicines in your bathroom cabinet.” 

Your husband halts his actions. Detaching his face from your neck, he looks at you - no hint of smile visible on his face. 

His eyes are dark, unbelievably dark. 

He pushes you further against his desk, “have you heard that proverb? It goes something like curiosity killed the cat.” 

You don’t reply but suck in a deep breath. 

“Never enter my room without my permission, okay Jagi?” he presses his body on yours. 

Your hand that is placed on the desk, stretches with the impact. It knocks against the coffee cup and the liquid spills on the back of your palm. 

“Ah!” you groan in pain. The coffee was still so hot. Your skin reddens immediately. 

“Shit” Yoongi runs to retrieve some tissues, “we need to visit the hospital.” he says in haste. 

“It’s okay- I am fine-” 

“Y/N. We are visiting the hospital.” he shuts you completely. 

Just as you knew, it was nothing serious. 

The doctor wrapped it up, prescribed some meds and ointment and asked you to take care. 

As soon as you exit the hospital, with Yoongi beside you, Namjoon runs up. 

Your breath gets a little labored at the sight of him. 

“Y/N, did he do something?” He asks without any greetings or so. 

“No. it was an acc-”

“Who are you?” Yoongi cuts you off. You see him measuring Namjoon from head to toe. 

Even though Yoongi is a lot shorter than Namjoon - his mere presence challenges Namjoon’s authority. 

“I am her personal security.” Namjoon answers. 

Yoongi quirks an eyebrow and then smirks. 

“Why? Is your company afraid that I might do something to you?” He questions you. 

You look away. 

Namjoon steps closer to Yoongi, “You can’t do anything to her. Lay a finger and I will break your hand.”

At this Yoongi breaks into a loud laugh. Everyone around you stares at him. You close your eyes in frustration. 

“She’s my wife. I don’t need a manual to know what I should and shouldn’t do to her.” Yoongi attacks. 

“Your wife for a year. Only a year.” Namjoon’s words leave through his gritted teeth. 

“We will…” Yoongi turns towards you, laces his fingers through yours, “see about that.” 

Permanent Taglist:

@chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie @mikrokookiex @jjk174 @lallataegi @savageyoongi @jwnghyuns @parapiop7 @futuristicenemychaos @armystay89 @ryryvna @purple-realms @ssbb-22 @miniesjams32 @mar-lo-pap

[rewvyu]

A Veteran CN Stylist's lament: Feels like Miraland is fading away

Today I came across a post that I felt compelled to share, because I really do understand and feel where the OP is coming from. I hope that Stylists around the world know that if you're feeling the same way, you are not alone.

Translated from a Xiaohongshu post by a Nikki games veteran: (my note: As this is translated by me, there may be some error here and there. I have changed some wording to provide better context instead of providing a literal translation.)

How should I even start? I have been playing Nikki series games since the 2010s, although I am not a very active player, I have always paid attention to each series. I am heavily invested in the story from Love Nikki, I can even name every nation's speciality, locations, important characters, and even the current storyline. It is also from Love Nikki, I fell in love with Nikki because she represent a gentle yet determined girl. I was filled with excitement and anticipation when Infinity Nikki was announced as the open-world version of Miraland, because I want to see and experience the world of Miraland and its beauty. However, the story development since launch till now has been filled with disappointment. I couldn't feel the connection with the world, and even more-so I couldn't feel immerse, this is exacerbated and reinforced by constant flip-flopping by the developer. Especially since the beginning, Pear-Pal which shares the same pronunciation as 'No Stress' [context: Pear-Pal in mandarin is '美鸭梨—mei ya li' and 'No Stress' is '没压力—mei ya li'], which is a tablet that the Stylist Guild have handed out. Every Stylists have this personal tablet, which is something that Stylist can feel associated with. However, the developer have since changed the design, in 1.5 update it has become clear that Pear-Pal is merely just a User Interface (U.I.) to them and with this changes it have lost it meaning and association to 'No Stress'. The pages within Pear-Pal which was supposed to be design and made by the Stylist Guild in collaboration with Kilo the Cadenceborn, a blue dragon, to be filled with knowledge of outfits and cultures accumulated over the many years of Miraland history has now been reduced to season names instead. Now, do you really think that the Stylist Guild and Kilo will do that? The answer is no, so this lore has now disappeared. Within the current storyline, a Snow Mermaid appeared in the Sea of Stars and Serenity Island, what is the reason behind all these? Did the developer ever considered this before? Why did Nikki became the Snow Mermaid during the destruction of the Sea of Stars? I do not mind that this new generation of Nikki game have a new story setting, but now I don't even get it any more. Whether if it is related to earlier Nikki games' lore, and whether if it is Infinity Nikki base logic or character-building, none of it gives me a sense of belonging to the world and all I feel is just emptiness.

[sizeofyoursoul]

Fanmade TVC Book Covers: Inspired by The Vampire Armand

When I was making my other set of Vampire Chronicles ebook covers, I had another idea for a set inspired by my favorite of the original hardback covers: The Vampire Armand. The Vampire Armand cover isn't just well designed, it's also a specific painting referenced within the book, so I wanted to see if I could make covers with a similar design that also met that criteria for the other books!

As before, my disclaimer is that I am not a graphic designer, I am a nerd with a hobby! I don't own the rights to any of these books, images, or paintings (and I believe they are all out of copyright). I hope you like them!

See below for what each painting is, and a few notes about why I chose it and where it appears in the book:

Interview with the Vampire

Painting: Witches Sabbath by Francisco de Goya

Source: Directly Described, Artist Name Provided in The Vampire Lestat

Quote: "I kept looking at Claudia, the way she lay against the books, the way she sat amongst the objects of the desk, the polished white skull, the candle-holder, the open parchment book whose hand-painted script gleamed in the light; and then above her there emerged into focus the lacquered and shimmering painting of a medieval devil, horned and hoofed, his bestial figure looming over a coven of worshipping witches."

Notes: In The Vampire Lestat, Lestat specifically references that Armand's cell contains copies of paintings by de Goya. There are two different de Goya paintings of a horned devil, I believe this one is the one described here.

The Vampire Lestat

Painting: Amor Vincit Omnia by Caravaggio.

Source: Subject Referenced with Artist Name

Quote: "He moved into the glow of the candles on the side altar. His clothes were black velvet, once beautiful, and now eaten away by time, and crusted with dirt. But his face was shining white, and perfect, the countenance of a god it seemed, a Cupid out of Caravaggio, seductive yet ethereal, with auburn hair and dark brown eyes."

Notes: Armand is repeatedly compared to Cupid as painted by Caravaggio in The Vampire Lestat, and this painting is of that figure. Lestat also references Gabrielle having copies of Caravaggio paintings in her rooms at his childhood home. This painting actually has scattered sheet music and a violin lying in the corner, which was another section I considered using to represent this book.

The Queen of the Damned

Painting: The Dionysian Friezes of The Villa of the Mysteries

Source: Directly Described

Quote: "Then the realization had come to Daniel as they stood together in the ruined dining room with its famous murals of ritual flagellation barely visible in the dark: He isn’t going to kill me after all. He isn’t going to do it. Of course he won’t make me what he is, but he isn’t going to kill me. The dance will not end like that."

The Tale of the Body Thief

Painting: Syndics of the Drapers' Guild by Rembrandt

Source: Directly Described, Including Artist Name, Discussed by Characters

Quote: "Finally, a week after my arrival, I found David in the empty Rijksmuseum, just after sunset, sitting on the bench before the great Rembrandt portrait of the Members of the Drapers' Guild"

Memnoch the Devil

Painting: Garden of Earthly Delights by Bosch

Source: Directly Discussed by Characters by Name

Quote: "Exactly, like Bosch's Garden of Earthly Delights, that kind of luscious sensuous paradise! Of course, I hadn't seen Bosch's painting yet in the Prado. But it was here in miniature in these books. Little figures frolicking beneath the abundant trees. Old Captain said, 'Garden of Eden imagery,' that it was very common. But two books full of it? No. This was different. I had to crack these books, get an absolutely clear translation of every word."

Pandora

Statue: Roman Depiction of Isis, Hadrian’s Villa, 117-138 AD Est

Source: Described

Quote: "My Isis had been Greco-Roman. Even her statue in the Roman Sanctuary had been clothed in a gorgeously draped Greek dress and her hair had been done softly in the old Greek style, with waves around her face. She had held her sistrum and an urn. She had been a Romanized goddess.

The Vampire Armand

Painting: Primavera by Botticelli

Source: Directly Referenced by Name

Quote: "Come on, somebody, tell me I make you think of Mercury chasing away the clouds in Botticelli's Primavera"

Note: This is, of course, the original hardback cover of The Vampire Armand, and the inspiration for the rest of this set. This is a remake to match the aspect ratio of the other images.

Vittorio, the Vampire

Painting: Annunciation with Two Kneeling Donors by Filippo Lippi

Source: Directly Named

Quote: "My father took me to see two more of his works, which were both paintings of the Annunciation… I had particularly enjoyed paintings of the Annunciation. Well, this last one I saw before I left Florence, done by Filippo sometime in the 1440s, was beyond anything I had beheld before. The angel was truly unearthly yet physically perfect. Its wings were made of peacock feathers."

Merrick

Painting: Madame Monet Embroidering (Camille au Metier) 1875 by Claude Monet

Source: Described, Artist Named

Quote: "I looked at a painting by Monet—one I'd come to neglect of late due to familiarity—a painting full of sunshine and greenery, of a woman at work on her needlepoint by a window under the limbs of delicate indoor trees. Like so many Impressionist paintings it was both highly intellectual, with its obvious brush strokes, and flagrantly domestic."

Note: This is a painting in the house on Rue Royale, which is one of Louis's Monet's, as he's referenced owning one or more of them frequently throughout the series.

Blood and Gold

Painting: Events of the life of Moses by Botticelli

Source: Directly Described, Artist Named.

Quote: "It didn't matter finally what these paintings meant. They filled me utterly. And in one, there were two maidens rendered so sensitively and yet so sensuously that I was amazed."

Note: Marius describes all three pieces by Botticelli in the Sistine Chapel over several pages, but the specific reference he makes that is quoted above is this painting, which is he compares to Pandora. Later he frequently compares Bianca to Botticelli's work, and I like the interpretation of this cover representing Bianca and Pandora.

Blackwood Farm

Painting: Salvador Mundi by Dürer

Source: Directly Discussed by Characters by Name

Quote: "'I'd save Dürer,' he said. 'Salvador Mundi--you know, the face of Christ with the hair parted in the middle.’"

Note: Many paintings get referenced throughout Blackwood Farm, though many of the artists are ones discussed in other books. Quinn's answer to the question he and Tommy are discussing (which one painting would you save) is a Madonna by either Fra Filippo Lippi or Botticelli, artists represented elsewhere in this set.

Blood Canticle

Painting: One of the "Unpainted pictures" by Emil Nolde

Source: Artist Referenced

Quote: "What the hallway needed was Emile Nolde. How could I get my hands on the German Expressionists?"

Note: Later in the book the other characters reference recently purchased paintings, and paintings with sailboats in them, though this specific painting is not mentioned. Other paintings in Rue Royale are described as "impressionist paintings" showing the sky, which are implied to be Louis's, and Lestat mentions them not being his personal preference.

Prince Lestat

Painting: Still Life with flowers by Rachel Ruysch

Source: Painting Described, See Notes

Quote: "What a pretty room, painted a cobalt blue and with bright white enameled moldings, and on the wall a brilliant painting of roses, wild, exploding roses against a backdrop of a darker blue."

Notes: This is a painting from Rose's bedroom, and Rose is described as having fond memories of visiting the Rijksmuseum. This specific painting is not referenced but matches the subject matter and description and is by a Dutch artist, contemporary of Rembrandt, who has similar works in the Rijksmuseum.

Prince Lestat and the Realms of Atlantis

Painting: Marie-Thérèse Durand-Ruel Sewing by Pierre Auguste Renoir

Source: Painting Described, See Notes

Quote: "A Chinese vase filled with fragrant leafy eucalyptus, and a small undoubtedly genuine French Impressionist painting on the wall of a woman in profile, a woman with long russet hair."

Notes: The description given of the painting above is not very specific, but Renoir frequently painted women with red hair, several of them in profile, and this painting is one of them.

Blood Communion:

Painting: Sunset (1872) by Camille Pissarro

Source: Painting Referenced, See Notes

Quote: "Well, Louis and I have been reunited a number of times, and this time around, at the Court in France, our reunion is enduring. He left that Impressionist painting behind at my request in our old flat in the Rue Royale, and now these miserable miscreants had senselessly destroyed it."

Notes: All I had to work with here was that it was an impressionist painting that was special to Louis, so I wanted to find something that fit the tone of Blood Communion and was of a sunrise or a sunset, which feels in character for Louis. This painting is also currently in a private collection.

[dysansohmin]

what do you think abt DT now?

(sucking down like an entire liter of water) hold on

I am not through 7.2 yet, but I suspect that's not going to effect my answer here very much! I've definitely had some time to sit and think about it, and my major takeaways are:

The format of main expansion story content has changed. I am not holding out hope for it to come back. The sidequests were crazy sparse, and Tural suffered for it. As overwhelming as it can be to get to a new area and see 50 sidequest markers, many of which are gonna feel like a chore to clear if you are rushing - every one of those is a character beat, a little nuance to the setting, a chance to pause and look around the environment. I think that there's a bit of rose-colored glasses about what I'm about to say next, and it's a sentiment I've seen expressed a lot, that previous expansions were **edgier** in that, we got allusions and direct plot-handling of lots of nitty-gritty everyday life shit. Dawntrail is the tail end of that progression, with like. The standard of living and intercultural conflicts in Tural being ironed over entirely, this sense of an absurd & universal standard of living, that Tural feels very much akin to Living Memory as being like, a perfect little facade. I am anticipating that this may be challenged, but I think it also may not be! (Much like EW's Garlemald segment, another bugbear for people with this opinion). I am frustrated that Alexandria is getting the goods when I was so excited to see what they did with Tural. There's a good chance Tural will continue to be a playground for a scavenger hunt, and Gulool Ja Ja's legacy will continue to be that of like, a beloved righteous superpacifist or whatever! We might never get Whalaqee either! I'm doing the Wachumeqimqi quests rn (I hate it I hate how they named it I hate it) and the fisher one is like. I don't want to be herrrrrre Then again, I am enjoying observing what the devs dive into and what they don't. I would love to peek at the JPN script, but my Japanese is rusty and elementary, so. I would LOVE to know if the Shock and Awe flyer in Living Memory was a localization insertion - it's one moment that comes to mind as "oh they are working with what they have to inject some interesting complexity." Woulda loved to see more of that in Tural proper and not have it all penned off in War Criminal Infinite Growth Torment Nexus Electrope Land. It made me yearn for Stormblood! I'm very excited to revisit Stormblood now! I don't think I appreciated Stormblood properly the first time through! I say this knowing that the Stormblood localization DOES make me want to claw my own eyes out every 20 minutes, and by GOD does Stormblood have its own issues about many of the same things- I think the localization HAS gotten better, and I think that there is a general move in fantasy games right now to tamp down on the colonial legacy of fantasy RPGs. I think Dawntrail is situated in that context. I feel they tried very hard to be respectful, and what we got is shallower for it. It's really hard NOT to read that next to, say, Veilguard as a State of The Industry thing. Anyway, this was the expansion with the graphical update, so it makes sense that there was less time/resources devoted to quest design and writing. But it's also a bar-set, and I understand how game studios operate.

I will be playing MSQ much more slowly going forward. Even with how sparse the sidequests were, completing them in time with MSQ as they unlocked left me with a MUCH more favorable impression of DT than most of the people I saw rushing through it. My full-game playthough on Evka, I am totally adjusting my approach to match how I played DT: clear every single area of quests before moving onto the next. This has helped me a lot with my FOMO about the game, and really helped me slow down and read closer. This approach is helping rekindle my appreciation for ARR. It puts me in a more receptive mindset for things like the interminable Tombstone Shaaloani bit, or the post-Titan wine fetching. And it requires patience. If I start feeling impatient, I stop playing. Believe it or not, I was like, not tremendously impressed with the post-ShB patches because I felt like MSQ was just rehashing. I remember sitting there looking at Ardbertlidibus like, "fuck man, power of friendship. we get it." I took it too fast, and I was impatient to be Caught Up. I genuinely wish I could replay ShB for the first time and NOT just mainline the primary story, because if I was close-reading I would have gone totally insane about this game like, two or three years earlier.

The on-level content's never been more fun. I loved the dungeons/raids this time around. They have really honed in. There's less though! There's less combat! There's less gameplay and more story, which is wild, considering how little story there is. This was a sparse expansion. But I'm having a blast with what was there, and did ultimately feel satisfied. Again, this is where I'm setting my bar for expectations going forward, if I'm pleasantly surprised than that rules. I like that they're getting goofy with dungeons ago. Much as I groan when I drop into Strayborough, it's fun, and it puts me in mind of things I liked about ARR dungeons. I also love how they continue to play with duty support as a diagetic tool. This is now approaching 100% on being a wonderful MMO for people who want a single-player experience, which is a weird sentence! Even though I like the social aspect, I appreciate being able to drop into a new dungeon as a healer and getting to learn the mechanics myself firsthand, instead of being obligated to spoil myself with a dungeon guide to ensure a zero-death run. Environmental design also wowed me. There is a great mix of detail and traversability. I do miss the little tiny tableaus and unused locations of HW & StB, having a multilevel space to poke around. I am not a huge fan of DT's "split the zone in half so we can use it twice" structure. I want those zones to become unsplit, at some point in the story, if that's the case, and have an available instance where a previously untraversable area becomes so. At least an interactable, like an NPC who will ferry you from one side to the other? But the zones were gorgeous, the settlements had tons of fun little details, Tuliyollal is, again, the most impressive hub city in the game. (Sorry Crystarium!!! SORRY!) There were places that could have used polish to match it - The settlements Urqopacha felt much more living than Kozama'uka, for instance.

Previous expansion content is starting to suffer. I have NO idea how they are going to manage further re-balancing. Many of the jobs are no longer any fun to play until like, 80 for me. This problem is only going to get worse, and it's going to require major overhauls more and more frequently, and those overhauls are going to simplify rotations and pare down interesting toolsets. I worry!

This game is going to be about itself for the rest of its lifespan. Shadowbringers was the thesis. Endwalker was metatext. Dawntrail is the rehash. It will be all rehash from here on out, mark my words. Unless they are willing to pull back the stakes and refrain from parallels and drop us back into something like HW or StB (which I desperately hoped DT would be!) It's going to be the Azem show forever. Which, again, means the story is now much less important to me in terms of perceived quality. I'm just hoping they get silly with it? I made a post about shark-jumping. I will be clapping like a seal as this story calcifies and crumbles under its own live-service weight. All that lives must someday die. Except our subscription based MMO, which you can play forever. The tension is impossible to reconcile, and this is the way of episodic stories. It's going to get funny. I'm ready.

I... Understand the beef with Wuk Lamat. The data doesn't lie. My girl Lamaty'i has an ASTOUNDING amount of dialogue. Record-shattering. My girl Lamaty'i cannot stop fucking talking. Hear feel think. Big bug. Oh no she's seasick again. I think Sena Bryer's been an absolute trooper, I think this is a star role she should be proud of, and I think she's settled into the character nicely. And also, I get it. Lyse didn't deliver the entirety of the StB script. If this was Alphinaud I'd be seething. But, and here's the kicker, here's why I love her: kibty.

I still hate that fucking train! THE TRAIN IS ONLY A METAPHOR FOR SOCIAL PROGRESS INSOMUCH AS COLONIZATION IS. YOUR WALKABLE CITY LIGHTRAIL IS NOT AN UNCOMPLICATED GOOD, AND ALSO NOT COMPARABLE TO A "TRANS-CONTINENTAL RAILROAD." TRAINS ARE NOT LEFTIST, WHATEVER THAT MEANS. ARE WOMEN BOURGEOIS ETC & also KOANA WAS SO HIGH ON ADOPTEE RECONNECTION HE SUDDENLY DECIDED HE LOST HIS PARENTS AS A SWADDLED BABE, WHICH. OKAY Subjecting me to the entirety of Smile for the first time during the inspirational train sequence probably didn't help me suspend my qualms long enough to huff that Spirit O' Progress. And I had source Jeryk & Train Friends ON my Dawntrail bingo card. I wanted to see it. I asked for this. (head in my hands) Actually, this is something I haven't talked about: I feel really conflicted about Smile! They tackled a lot of kinds of American music for this expansion and normally I would be really into gospel being one of those genres - but god is it a stinker. god does it suck. fuck. I really wanted Alexandria to be a little more experimental for the soundtrack. The gamer EDM thing is low-hanging fruit, imo. I wanted to step into Solution 9 and be as wowed as I was in Tuliyollal, I wanted like, avant-garde jazz or funk or blues. (Hang on I just imagined electroswing S9 and had a coughing fit.) I was even hoping for like, some disconnect between the sonic/visual environment. Haven't fought Dancing Green yet, so I'm excited to hear that track but. They could have been more textured with this. Vanguard having that dubstep breakdown over the Shaaloani music got me READY and then S9 let me down. Every time I go turn in materia clusters it's like stepping into an elevator. Snooze!

In sum: Still unhappy the game has contented itself to discard Tural as a backdrop for inter-dimensional Alexandrian drama. I think Tural was fun, and am sad it did not get more room to breathe. WRT writing about nations, peoples, colonization, technology: there is no winning, but there is trying. I felt like I could see things there that did feel like earnest attempts to engage - traditional ways of life being upended, lost knowledge & skills, indigenous ways of teaching, sharing economies, etc. And also, these themes are being evoked in ways that naturalize them in a way it's fair to file under "a bit noble savage-y" & are divorced from their relationship to colonialism. Why did all of the Hanu forget about the harvest festival that has ensured their livelihood for years on end, and had to be instructed on it by Wuk Evu? Well like, you know. That's how these stories usually go, isn't it? The lazy youth spurn their elders' knowledge, and there is no particular outside force that threatens to destroy indigenous technologies, and no purpose to those technologies being supplanted, Koana just happens to be the World's First Turali Sharlayaboo and the steam locomotive is a net good and obviously no one on the entire continent could have figured out A Balloon without the Studium's help... Hey what's this plot about a moneylender? You know, unless the Hanu were ALL play-acting for Wuk to teach a lesson, as in the quest chain that also occurs in Ok'hanu, and like the cooking contest in Yak'Tel and, well. That's not how it panned out! The Blessed thing was! like. La raza cosmica had to be on the mind, yeah? But... I can't even really articulate anything about the Mamool Ja because the logic of that story section is so alien and inarticulate itself. I think the Yok Huy were underutilized. I think blue-eyed-babyfaced Christopher Columbus in his magic avatar forest hut was weird. I FEEL LIKE I WON'T HAVE AN INFORMED OPINION ABOUT THE POLITICAL BAGGAGE OF DAWNTRAIL UNTIL I REPLAY ARR-StB! Genuinely! I need a refresher! This is a game written by a Japanese team which featured an entire expansion about occupied China! And I was, again, rushing through that! I think a lot of the people speaking about Dawntrail ALSO rushed through that! Because the playerbase EXPLODED with EW, and this is the first expansion where many people have been around for the full dev cycle. But anyway, This was a fraught setting, and it seems like they're eager to abandon it now that it's set up Azem's Weird Cup. That makes me sad, even despite all the failings, because I think they failed in interesting ways, and they were always going to fail, and they were always going to do some things right, and there is no ONE way to talk about these issues, yeah. Biggest gripe is still Xak Tural and the way it was handled, and choosing the spaghetti western vibe over like, the cultures indigenous to the American southwest, that hadn't changed. I wanted to see it. I still want to see it. Me and Erenville are going and you are all invited. But pulling away from text and into Me The Player My Experience: I'm sitting pretty tight with FFXIV. I think I'm in this longhaul style, and again, I am satisfied with it as a game. There is NO way they could have kept up those chops. We got a pretty incredible first run, and I will feel fondly about it as a piece of writing for a long time. And I don't feel like I'm settling! I'm having fun! Higher quality fights in lower quantity is FINE by me! And my favorite thing in this type of game remains the busy work & grind, and the outfits and the decorating. My gameplay experience has not suffered, I am in fact having way more fun now than I was pre-EW.

In sum in sum: I think FFXIV is still pretty good, for an MMO. The format of an MMO is at odds with nuance. The format of an MMO is at odds with a story about grief and mortality. That FFXIV has received its accolades and is being held to this standard is, frankly, insane, what a crowning achievement in narrative design within these constraints. I don't mean to sound like I'm shoveling garbage in my mouth but I don't think I could have taken another ShB/EW type deal. Now, if they would just Slow the Fuck Down and make something that is not trying to match Endwalker's pacing... & I still don't know what Solar Bahamut is. And that scares me.

[yndrgrl]

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"are you going to help me or not?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"can't wait," you replied back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"who?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"go ahead, iida."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"you seem to love it though-"

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

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

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

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

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

"bakugou-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"i can tell that much."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"what did you think was gonna happen?!"

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

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

instead, he asks, "are you jealous?"

"what?"

"are you jealous?"

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

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

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

"i was so jealous today," he said.

"of what?"

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

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

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

--nsfw starts here--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"h-hey!"

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

"bakugou~" you whispered, voice shaking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"f-f-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[felix-krain]

An analysis of Resh's design

Based on what we have so far from Two Embers.

By me, a very sane and normal person that likes Resh a normal amount /j

Okay so: I want to start from the very basic stuff. Namely their design as Alef. In the beta concepts Alef had a full star mask (like Resh) but from what we've seen so far they appear to look like a regular kid. Well yes, but also no

I really like this tiny detail they left on their mask. It may not be a full star mask but they did leave those little spikes to make it recognizable. Also Alef seems to be a normal ancestor kid without the little light on the chest that characterizes skykids (I know they DO have it in one of the trailers but that trailer is very old and you can clearly see that their design was altered ever since, none of the new trailers show it) but we don't really know their origin yet. That said let's get to the main point

THIS FUCKER

Unlike popular opinion I don't believe Resh to be bald. Mainly because we can see the folds in what appears to be fabric covering their head during this shot here. Overall their design seems to be a simplified version of their beta one.

One interesting thing to notice is the fact that we never fully see their mask so we cannot confirm it to have four points (especially considering their child one only has three)

They also appear to have their entire body covered up. The head is covered by the hood and the mask, they wear a long sleeved vest and gloves. All of this covered additionally by their cape. We don't really see even an inch of their skin, which is quite interesting...

If we look back at the corrupted King theory we could assume this total coverage of the body could be to hide the rocks growing on their skin

As we have previously seen other characters from Two Embers suffering with this corruption/disease

So... maybe?

They appear to be wearing a robe like other ancestors, an especially long one for that matter. Yet the peculiar thing is that (at least from this shot) they almost appear to not be wearing shoes. I would guess they would be wearing sandals, even though, if we take the previous "all skin covered" fact, it would be pretty odd to leave the feet uncovered but idk, this scene doesn't give a clear enough image for me to speculate

From this information here we can kinda understand their entire design (even if they are never fully shown from the front) but I guess only new trailers (or the series itself) will confirm or deny anything

That said, I am very normal about the fact that we have ACTUAL 3D content of them after SO LONG and I absolutely DID NOT explode yesterday when the trailers came out (/j I did.)