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kissenturine · 3 months

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𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐄 kazuha x m!reader — 5.1k words, not proofread, minors do not interact

TO NOTE: strangers to lovers, mentions and use of alcohol (no drunk sex though), kazuha and reader are roommates, sort of college / modern au, morning sex / sleepy sex, praise, pet names (good boy [?], angel, uh i cant remember sorry), aftercare is not written but it is given, praise teehee, reader rides kazuha, kazuha jerks reader off, lmk if i missed any thanks :3

KAI SAYS: GUYS!!!!!!!!!!!!! birthday post im now 20 that sounds so old euugghh

Rent was hell.

Your minimum income, which was mostly spent on necessities and college fees, was barely able to pay last month. And now with inflation, you weren’t sure how you were going to make it through another year.

But, there was always hope. It was only the beginning of June after all.

Last week, your friend introduced you to a website to find roommates. Having a roommate would solve a few of my problems, you thought as you scrolled through the site on your computer. For one, the rent would be split between the two of you, which was much more manageable than right now. And, for two, you would get to actually talk to someone every day.

It would be a win-win situation if the two of you got along.

After a few days of thinking everything through, looking at different people’s profiles, because the site was a “Tinder for roommates,” as your friend had put it, you found a man that matched your preferences.

Kaedehara Kazuha.

From what you could tell by his profile, he looked like a sweet man. His profile picture was set to a white cat, and you can see his hand atop its head, gently petting against the cat’s ears. You hadn’t met him in person yet, but through text, you’d managed to get to know him a bit.

The two of you texted about your hobbies and Kauha told you about his life. He was getting a degree in poetry at a college near your house, which is why he selected the area. He told you earlier today about himself. He liked to eat fish and go drinking out. He liked staying with animals he liked warm weather and sunny days, and he liked to spend time with his loved ones and friends.

To be honest, he seemed a bit too good to be true.

But, you think, I suppose some people are just like that.

With a content sigh, you shut your computer. You’d texted Kazuha and the two of you had planned for him to move in today. It seemed a little quick to you, but Kazuha said he didn’t really have anything big to move over. According to him, he’d only be bringing one suitcase and backpack.

Yesterday, you cleaned out the guest room—well, know his room. It was tedious work, something you hoped you wouldn’t have to do again. Ever. But, you supposed it would be worth it in time.

So now here you were, sanding proudly with your hands on your hips smiling at your spotless house. Kazuha better like it here… You think. Your hand goes to run through your hair gently, combing it back. You’re about to flop down onto the couch and maybe take a nap—only for the familiar tune of the doorbell to ring through the house, echoing and bouncing off the walls.

Your head snaps backwards, a nervous smile making its way onto your lips.

You rush to the door, ignoring the slight shake in your step. Your heartbeat quickens and you don’t know why. Kazuha’s a nice man. You remind yourself, though you don’t think that’s why you're nervous.

Slowly, you unlock your door and turn the doorknob with your other hand. And there, standing to greet you is your new roommate. Kaedehara Kazuha.

You greet him with a polite smile, cracking open the door just enough to let him inside. The roll of his suitcase from the sidewalk outside up onto the flooring of your house sends a loud ‘Clunk! Clunk!’ sound and you wince a little.

You shut the door behind you, schooling your expression as you turn back to Kazuha. He trunks to you quickly and smiles gently. “Ah,” he says and his voice is so soft when he speaks, “I’m Kazuha, but I suppose you already know that.”

You introduce yourself, finishing off the same as him with a short, “but I suppose you already knew that too.”

He nods politely a small laugh flitting out of his lips. You lead him to his new bedroom, helping him carry his backpack as he lifts his suitcase, not wanting the wheels to dirty the floor. Kazuha takes a look around, his smile being ever present as you drop his backpack by the door.

“It’s nice here.” He comments, turning his gaze from you to his bedroom.

A bashful grin makes its way to your lips. “Thanks.” You murmur. “Cleaned just for you.”

With that, he’s looking back at you. “Just for me?” He responds, and there’s an edge of playfulness that lies beneath the overlaying gratefulness in his tone. “Thank you.”

You just nod, not fully trusting your voice.

After a moment, Kazuha sits down at the edge of his bed, tracing his hands over the expanse of the duvet. “We should go out sometime.” He says and you blink. You’re face feels warm and you hope Kazuha doesn’t see.

“Like…” Your voice trails off, leaving your sentence unfinished. Like a date? You wanted to say, but your lips don’t seem to work.

Kazuha seems to take note of this, chuckling softly. “Just to get to know each other better. Doesn’t have to be anything fancy.” He gives you a comforting smile and your nervousness seems to dissipate when you look at him.

“Ok.” You agree. “We can plan something for after you’ve gotten more… settled in.”

Kazuha’s smile widens and he gives you a nod. “Thanks.”

You take a deep breath, before speaking up again. “I’ll leave you to it then.” You turn on your heel before walking out of Kazuha’s new bedroom. You shut the door gently before speed-walking to your room and collapsing onto your bed.

Your breathing comes out in soft puffs as you bury your face into a pillow, curling yourself on your bed. What the fuck was that? You cry mentally. You grip onto the bedsheets tightly. Your heart is beating fast and you think it’d beat tight through your ribs if you don’t calm down soon. You bring your hands to your face, dragging them across your eyes. “I’m fucked.” You curse quietly. Kazuha’s so nice! You know you probably won’t even last a month without developing some sort of feelings for him and that scares you.

You… don’t want to ruin what little the two of you had managed to build up in the past week. As little as it was, you like what you have with Kazuha. In the back of your mind, though, there’s the nagging feeling for more. You want to get closer to Kazuha, you want to spend time with him.

Maybe that date of his wouldn’t be too bad.

With a heavy sigh, you twist your body to lay like a starfish, sprawled across your bed. You turn your gaze to your window, squinting as the sunlight fans through the glass and into your eyes. If you just ignored any feelings that developed, they would just go away, right?

The first six days with Kazuha were… different from your usual routine, to put it simply.

On Monday (because everyone knows the week starts with Monday and not Sunday!) you awoke to the smell of food wafting through the house. You were instantly up and out of bed, barely managing to throw on a shirt—backwards—before you stumbled into the kitchen.

You were taken aback by the sight that greeted you.

Kazuha, in his pyjamas and an apron, was humming a soft tune as he cooked something on the stove. He turns once he notices you, standing in shock by the doorway. “Ah,” he said, “I see you’re finally awake.” He humed, using the spatula to plate a scrambled egg. He handed you the plate and Archons it smelled good. “I made breakfast. Used some of your food, if you don’t mind.”

You absentmindedly nodded, entranced by the way he moved around the kitchen, putting things in the dishwasher, plating his food, and turning off the stove. All of those were such ordinary things, but, for some reason, it just made you more drawn to him.

You brought your plate to the table, pulled out a chair and sat down, still watching Kazuha. “Thanks for breakfast.” You murmured after a few bites. “It’s really good.”

“Well, it’s only natural I repay you somehow.” Kazuha said before sitting down beside you. “You basically lent me your house to live in.” He joked.

“Our house now.” You responded. “Since you’ll be payin’ half the rent.”

Kazuha nods, taking a bite out of his own breakfast. “I plan on spending the week organizing my stuff. Nothing big, just getting everything tidy.” The two of you sat in comfortable silence, basking in the warmth of the summer weather.

Besides that, Monday wasn’t anything eventful.

Tuesday was spent helping Kazuha. Cooped up in his room, the two of you went through his clothes and belongings, organizing them into his closet and drawers. Kazuha had a decent amount of clothes, which were the bulk of what he brought.

You talked and talked and talked with Kazuha. He was so sweet. You swore you’d told yourself that a million times by now, but it was always true. Kazuha’s laugh was soft and kind, he laughed at all your stupid, cheesy jokes, no matter how unfunny they were. He’d help you cook meals—much better than you ever could.

Tuesday was when you had come to realize that maybe you were enjoying his company a little too much. But, you thought, he’s just… fun to be around.

You used that excuse for the rest of the week.

Kazuha was just… nice. Everyone would enjoy his company like this. You were no different!

It was a pathetic excuse, but it was pathetic enough for you to cling onto.

Wednesday you and Kazuha went out and you showed him the neighbourhood as the two of you walked to the store for some groceries. Kazuha took an oddly long time looking through the fruits and vegetables section, eyeing each piece we selected carefully before placing it into the plastic bag we used to carry everything.

It was endearing.

After a good forty-five minutes of walking around the store, the two of you finally decided to head to the cashier for check out. Kazuha was polite as he made idle chatter with them, but you couldn’t help the frown that pulled at your face.

You were right there. If he wanted to talk to someone, why couldn’t it be you? You were sure you were more entertaining than that cashier worker.

But you pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind. You pulled out your credit card, expecting to pay, only for Kazuha to gently pull your hand back. “Let me.” He says gently. Your eyes dart to him and your face flushes when you feel his hand graze gently over yours as he pulls it back.

He wanted to pay for you.

Ah, if you hadn’t fallen for him yet, you sure as hell had now.

He taps his card quickly and you barely manage to make it out of the store while avoiding Kazuha’s gaze.

Things only started to set in on Thursday.

You’d woken up with a heavy migraine and a grumpy mood, so it didn’t come as a surprise that you didn’t want to talk to anyone. Unfortunately, that also included Kazuha. And yet, Kazuha didn’t push you when you refused to talk to him while the two of you ate breakfast.

“Good morning,” He had said in greeting. “How’re you?”

You don’t respond, only taking the plate of food he’d set aside for you. You’re swift to finish your food; shovelling it into your mouth and not even bothering to wait for Kazuha.

He, on the other hand, still had that oh-so-sweet smile of his plastered across his pretty lips. “I’ll take it you’re not feeling great, then.” He murmurs. Kazuha gets up from his seat beside you before handing you a glass of water. “You should drink up. Water’s very good for you, so I’m sure it’ll help you a bit.”

You do as he said, chugging the glass of water in one go. “Thanks.” You whisper. Those were the first words you said to him that day, and you could already feel your migraine easing up. Kazuha is like magic, you think, he fixes everything without even trying.

You gave Kazuha a half-hearted smile before placing your plate and utensils in the dishwasher and heading to your room to take a nap. Naps always seemed to ease your headaches.

As you collapsed on your bed, snuggling up under your heavy duvet, your thoughts drifted back to Kazuha. He was sweet, but you’d also come to the realization that he was handsome. His hair was always up into a ponytail, with that little section of red swooping on top of his ear. His eyes are quite pretty, too. You thought. A shimmering red that often matched the clothes he wore, sparkling as he laughed. And his hands, they looked so gentle as he carried things around. His fingers worked effortlessly as he wrote his poetry in that small notebook of his.

“This man,” you whispered to yourself, “is too good to be true.”

On Friday, Kazuha let you have the honour of brushing and tying up his hair.

He’d caught you staring at him as he sat on his bed, his fingers wove through his white locks. With a raised eyebrow, he beckons you over, handing you a red hair tie. “Mind helping me?” He asked softly.

You complied eagerly, scooting behind him. You ran your hand through his hair, gently scooping it behind his shoulders. Kazuha let out a soft hum, as he nodded in content. Carefully, you pull his hair into a ponytail, twisting the thin band to wrap carefully around it a few more times.

“There.” You said. “It’s done.”

Kazuha turned to face you, his knees pressed much too close to yours. “Thank you.” He grinned, grabbing your hand to rest in between his cool ones. “I really appreciate this.”

Your face flushed, an embarrassing warmth coating your cheeks. You brought your free hand to scratch awkwardly at the back of your neck before mumbling out a response. “No problem, Kazuha.”

Saturday was spent planning the two of your guys’ “date” that would be happening on Sunday.

Kazuha suggested a picnic, and you couldn’t help but agree. Maybe it was the thought of spending a day with him, or maybe it was how he wanted to spend a day with you, but you knew you would’ve agreed to anything he said.

The picnic would be on Sunday, in a park the two of you found online.

After a very successful planning session, the two of you spent the rest of the day preparing and packaging food for the picnic.

It was somewhat chaotic—but it was also fun.

Kazuha taught you how to make his favourite sandwich, how to toast the bread perfectly, and how to cut each one into little heart shapes. All with a soft smile dancing on his pretty lips as he guided your hands gently, easing the knife into the bread.

Archons, you were fucked. How’re you supposed to live with him, like this, every day?

And now, it’s Sunday; the day of the picnic.

Your foot taps nervously against the floor of your bedroom. What am I supposed to wear? Yes, you do know you’re probably overthinking this, but you can’t help it! Not when it’s because of Kazuha! You have to make sure you’re always looking your best!

Your cheeks puff out as a heavy sigh leaves your lips, eventually settling on your outfit of the day.

Finally ready, you nervously open the door, heading out to meet Kazuha in the kitchen.

He greets you with a smile and a call of your name. His arms find their way around your waist in a tight hug and you blink. Oh, oh, oh, oh—what do I do!? When did he get so… touchy?! Not that I’m complaining but—You stand frozen, yet Kazuha doesn’t seem to mind. He pulls back with his signature smile. “You’re ready to go?” He questions, taking a step towards the front door.

“Y-Yeah.” You manage to stutter out. “I’m ready.”

“Great!” He grabs your hand, leading you out of your shared home. He doesn’t let go as the two of you walk to the park. With the picnic basket in his free hand, Kazuha still grips yours gently as he leads you. His thumb runs over the skin of your hand absentmindedly. You think it’s supposed to be a calming gesture, but, it only makes your heart beat faster and your face go warm.

You eventually find yourself in a large field, small flowers adorning the grass. Kazuha tugs a blanket out of his bag, laying it over the grass. He plops down on it, patting the space beside him as he does. “Sit with me.” He says.

You comply quickly, placing your own basket down and taking a spot beside him. “...Thanks for doing this with me.” You murmur, giving Kazuha a shy glance.

He only grins in response, digging through his bag and handing you one of the sandwiches you prepared yesterday. “It’s nothing, really.” He smiles, and you feel a tingle go through your hand where his finger brushes over yours. “I like spending time with you.”

“I like spending time with you too.” You match his expression, your lips pulling into a smile. It hasn’t even been a week, and yet it feels like you’ve known Kazuha for years.

Kazuha grins, reaching into his bag. “Good.” is all he responds before pulling something out. Is that a wine bottle? “Now, would you like a drink?”

You… never took Kazuha as a drinker.

And yet, here he is, drunk out of his mind as slurs slip from his lips. Kazuha calls out your name, his head slipping onto your shoulder as his hands grip the blanket the two of you are sitting on. “Do you…” He trails off. “Do youuu… wanna watch th-the sunset w’me?” He slurs his eyes fixing on yours from his position on your shoulder.

You cough awkwardly. “Kazuha.” You say softly, easing his head off your shoulder. “It’s four-thirty in the afternoon. The sunsets not coming out anytime soon…”

“B-But—” He whines. “It woulda been soooo romantic.” Kazuha grins, his eyes lolling shut as he slumps against your chest this time. “Jus’ you, me, an’ the flowers.”

“Oh, Kazuha.” You sigh. “I’d love to watch the sunset with you, but we have to get you home before dark. It’d be dangerous walking out drunk at night.”

“No!” He cries. “I could… could protect you… from th’danger.”

“Nope.” You say, trying not to let his words affect you. “We’re going home now, okay?”

“Okayyyy.” He whines, dragging out the word as he says it. “But only—only cause you said so.”

“Good.” You wrap an arm around Kazuha, right under his shoulder as you help him stand. You leave him for a bit, turning around to pick up the blanket and his bag. “Kazuha!” You call, and he’s instantly behind you. His arms wrap around your waist, pushing his face into your neck.

“Hm?” He coos. “D’ya need something?”

The warmth of Kazuha’s breath fans over the skin of your neck, goosebumps rising lowly. “N-Need you to carry your stuff.” You mumble. Your hands remove Kazuha’s from your waist, shifting to grab his wrist as you gently drag him off you. “Let’s go home now.”

Carefully, you take Kazuha home, not really minding his drunk ramblings. He goes on and on about the sunset, about how he’d stare into your eyes and giggle while he holds your hand and the sun sets.

It is endearing seeing him drunk out of his mind and yet still so lovey-dovey.

It only takes the two of you a fifteen-minute walk to reach your home and you’re quick to open the door and let Kazuha in, the two of you dropping your stuff as you help him up the stairs, your arm wrapped snugly around his waist. He slurs your name again, his pretty red eyes meeting yours. “C-Can we cuddle…?” He whines and you instantly turn your head, wanting to hide the warmth on your cheeks.

“I…” You whisper. “You’re drunk. Let’s just get you in bed first.”

“Noo!” Kazuha cries, planting his feet on the ground, stopping you. “Y’always make me wait! Made me wait for our date, now you're still makin’ me wait when I jus’ want cuddles!”

“Kazuha, really, maybe we should—” You try to protest, only to be interrupted.

“Please,” Kazuha whines pitifully, “Jus’ for a bit.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, letting out a deep exhale. “You’re still drunk,” you start, “but fine. I guess some cuddles won’t hurt.”

Kazuha grins happily, snaking his arms around you, just under your arms as he lifts you into the air. “You’re th’best!” He slurs. “Come, cuddles time.” With that, he’s lifting you up and carrying you over into his bedroom.

He tosses you gently onto the bed and you land with a quiet: “Oof!” Before you feel the bed dip as Kazuha joins you. His arms find their familiar place around you and his nore presses into the back of your head as he twists your body into a spooning position with his. One of Kazuha’s legs is haphazardly thrown over yours, and you feel completely engulfed in, well, Kazuha.

“You’re so handsome.” Kazuha whispers into your hair. “My handsome boy.” He presses a kiss to the back of your head, and you have to remind yourself that Kazuha is drunk. He won’t remember any of this, nor will he ever act like this again.

Still, you end up leaning into the touch, falling asleep slowly, basking in Kazuha’s comforting warmth and love.

When you wake up, Kazuha’s body is tangled with yours. His head is on your chest and his arms are wound tightly around your waist. One of his legs is positioned between yours, his knee pressing against you.

You tug him closer, enjoying the warmth of his body against yours. Kazuha’s head dips between your shoulder and your neck, nuzzling into the spot. You can feel the small puffs of air his lips let out against your skin as he breathes, matching the pattern of your heartbeat as he does.

You grin, pulling yourself to sit up—only to be yanked completely down by Kazuha. “Don’ move, please.” He whispers. “Need t’feel ya.”

“Kazuha.” You complain. “You’re not even drunk anymore—”

“No.” Kazuha murmurs. “Need to feel you.” As the words leave his lips, he shifts his body, pressing his hips flush against your ass.

Something firm pokes into you from behind and—

Oh.

That’s what he meant by feel you.

Kazuha’s hips start a steady grind against you, pushing his erection into your ass as he murmurs breathless nothings into your ear. A desperate whine slips from his lips as he slowly moves his hands from around you to on you, roaming your chest and up your neck.

“Need you.” Kauzha murmurs slowly. “Need you so bad.”

“I know.” You say, turning onto your side to face Kazuha.

He smiles at you, bringing a hand to cup your cheek. “Please let me have you.” He whines.

You smile, leaning into his touch and pressing a soft kiss to his nose. “Of course, you can have me. I’ve been all yours from the start.”

Kazuha’s lips press against yours as he gently pushes you to lie on your back against the bed. His hands trace your sides, going from your neck to your hips as he pulls your pants down. He releases you from his kiss, the both of you gasping for air as he yanks down your boxers with impressive speed.

A soft whine slips from your throat, needily grinding your hips into the air. “Kazuha…” You moan, needing his touch desperatley. “C-Can you just—”

“I know.” He coos, trailing his hand to your hard cock. “I know, pretty boy, but I jus’ wanna take my time with you, ‘kay?”

You hesitantly nod, bringing your hand to thread through Kazuha’s hair as he peppers an assortment of kisses all over your cheeks. His hand starts a slow rhythm, gliding up and down the shaft of your cock slowly.

His grip is teasing, the way he squeezes up as he reaches your tip, dragging the pad of his thumb down your dick as he does. Kazuha’s fist moves quicker, watching as your eyes scrunch up in pure ecstasy from his ministrations. “That’s it.” He murmurs encouragingly. “C’mon, I know you’re close…”

A gasp leaves your lips as Kazuha drags his thumb over your slit, rolling it and smearing your precum everywhere, watching with nothing but a pleased smile as your hips frantically twitch in his hold. He smiles, pressing a kiss to your neck—right bellow your ear before giving the spot a teasing lick.

Kazuha’s hands work at your dick again and again, sliding with a steady rhythm up and down until your brain feels muddled and hazy. You grip at his wrist, not knowing if you want him to stop or keep going.

“K-Kazuha,” you whine, “please.”

A soft laugh leaves his lips and he once again kisses your neck. “Shh.” He murmurs. “Be patient, my dear.” With that, he’s pressing a harsh bite into your supple skin, letting his teeth graze over before digging them into you. A loud moan slips from your lips, your dick twitching over and over until your eyes are squeezing shut and thick ropes of milky white shoot from your tip all over your tummy and Kazuha’s hand.

“O-Oh.” You manage to squeak out. “You’re good at this.”

Kazuha smiles, helping the both of you sit up—with you in between his knees with his erection still pressed into the curve of your ass. He rolls you over, bringing your hips ontop of his as he pulls his leaking cock out of his pants, watching intently as you practically drool at the sight.

“Ride me, please.” Kazuha whispers, his desperation clear in his tone. You wrap a hand around his dick, rolling the pad of your thumb against his tip before lifting your hips. You line him up quickly, feeling the head of his cock push against your hole. Your mouth drops open, a low whine leaving your lips.

Slowly, slowly, very slowly, you sink down on his cock, taking him all the way in. You’re about halfway in—from what little you can tell—when Kazuha grabs your hips. His eyes are teary, staring into yours as he grabs the fat of your ass, and pulls you down.

A loud moan slips freely from your lips and you collapse onto Kazuha, the both of you panting heavily.

“A-Archons.” He whispers, his fingers rubbing smooth circles over your hips. “You’re so tight, angel.”

Angel.

He called you angel.

You bury your face into Kazuha’s neck, taking in his scent as you breathe. “Kazu…” You whine. “Need you so bad.”

“I know, pretty.” He whispers. His grip on your hips tightens as you lift your head off him and look into his eyes. His deep, red eyes. “C’mon. I’ll help you, ‘kay?” He smiles, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips before leading you to sit up above him. His finger taps against your waist before he starts. “Lift your hips f’me.” Kazuha instructs and you comply quickly, lifting your hips before dropping back down.

As soon as you drop down, Kazuha’s tip knocks against your prostate harshly and you cry out, your hands barely managing to find purchase against his shoulders. “Good boy.” Kazuha whispers sweetly, running his hands over your chest. “Jus’ like that…” He murmurs. “Think you can keep going?” You nod eagerly, lifting your hips again only to drop down.

Your thighs shake but you don’t care! Not when it feels so good to be bouncing on Kazuha’s dick like this. Not when he hits all those good spots that make you see stars as your eyes roll back.

“Kazuha.” You moan out, rocking your hips tirelessly up and down his dig. You can feel the drag against every vein against your walls, the way he nudges just right against your prostate. Your eyes roll back as your dick twitches against your tummy, drooling pre uselessly as you ride Kazuha up and down, over and over again.

“T-That’s it, pretty.” He whispers. Kazuha’s hands come to grip your ass again, picking up the pace for you as he starts to buck his hips up and into your awaiting hole. “I—holy shit—I’m close.” He whimpers, and you swear there’ll be bruises from how tight he grips your waist. “Need to cum—” He whines, his eyes squeezing shut.

You nod your head eagerly your ass squeezing so tightly around him as he picks up the pace, fucking into you harder. You need to feel him, feel him shoot his load into you. You need it, need Kazuha, need every part of him.

Every time he thrusts, you feel yourself get closer and closer to that sweet release the both of you seek. “Kazu…” You moan out. “Close, close—need you t’k-keep goin’”

“I know.” He whimpers. “I know, ‘m not stopping.” Your eyes rolled back, the familiar warmth building in the pit of your tummy. The way Kazuha’s hands trailed over your thighs—everything he did was begging your body to surrender to the familiar pleasure.

“A-At the same time.” You plead, gripping onto Kazuha’s arm. He only nod, his eyes squeezing shut.

You clench around him and Kazuha throws his head back against the pillows as he buries his dick into you, his hips meeting yours in one final, harsh thrust. He pulls your body close, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he whispers sweet nothings into you.

You feel him cum, a thick load going right into you. You whine, tightening so sweetly around him as your own orgasm hit. “H-Holy…” You whimper, not hvaing the energy to finish your sentence. Your dick twitches between the two of you and you cum. Hard.

Kazuha’s grip around you tightens as he doesn’t even bother to pull out. He grabs the blanket, bringing it over the two of you as he nuzzles your face into his neck, your body still twitching.

Archons. You think, watching Kazuha’s eyes close gently. The sunlight falls onto his face, like a golden halo around his perfect features. How long has it been with him? A week?

Only a week, and you’d managed to fall in love.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @helloanime @kiekole (send ask without anon to be added)

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dmercer91 · 1 year

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the girl in your dreams, me94

in which mark’s rabbit hole of boredom induced link clicking brings him to you, and neither of you can get enough (18+)

i’m incredibly committed to making men who are tall and broad into whiny messes who beg real sweet (4.1k)

you told yourself it was just for a few days. until the tips could bring you just over the amount you needed for rent

that was for the month of may, and here you are, at the beginning of july, still doing it.

but the money was good, and once you learnt your way around the different kinds of guys that would use your services, the tips got even better

you worked for a hotline. one of those ones that guys saw at the tops of their screen on porn sites, except you didn’t need to have a camera on, and neither did they

when you signed up you told yourself it would be less embarrassing that way. if by chance you had to be on a call with someone you’d met before, they might not know it was you just by your voice

in the beginning you asked yourself if anyone even used lines like this, if that was even a thing anymore

it was quickly proven that the idea of getting off to someone real, that would do what you wanted even though they were a stranger, was incredibly appealing to a lot of people

tonight was the fourth of july, and your line had been particularly dead.

most people could get their own fix tonight, at a party or even at the bar as most of the country celebrated its independence

that was until now, when your work phone’s vibrations knocked you out of the pleasant zone you’d been in knowing you were getting paid to sit at your desk and wait for hours

“hi, sweetheart. how’s your night been?” you started your bit, ready to tease the guy on the other line for being alone on a holiday and offer to keep him company

instead, you were met with dead silence

you furrowed your eyebrows, cooing another greeting into the phone to see if you’d been dialled by accident

“uh. hi,” the boy on the other side of the phone forced out, voice cracking and nerves evident in his tone

“hi, baby. what’s a pretty boy like you doing at home on the fourth of july?” you asked, intrigued.

the faceless aspect of the hotline you worked for was usually a security blanket for the guys that used it

they normally felt better being cocky, asking for what they wanted so they could get it over with.

because it didn’t matter what they said. if you ever saw them again, you wouldn’t know

he gulped before he answered, the sound coming through on the phone and earning a bite of your lower lip

“all my friends are in different cities. lots of travelling in my market. this time of year s’ lonely” you hummed in response, getting your bit back on track

“well, i could keep you company, sweetheart,” you murmured, stomach tightening at the hitch of his breath

he scrambled to try and agree, to tell you he wanted nothing more than for you to be his company

“y-yeah.. yes. yes, please” he rushed out after a moment too long with no response

you giggled. you rarely ever got shy ones on the line. and honestly? teasing him was gonna be fun

“are you nervous, baby? there’s no need to be. i promise i won’t bite unless you ask” you flirted and he cleared his throat, shaking his head even though you couldn’t see him

“no, s’ just i’ve never done something like this before,” he explained, his chair squeaking in the background as he adjusted anxiously

“thats alright, baby. what’s your name?”

he thought about it, ultimately deciding he’d give you his real name

“s’ mark.. what’s yours?” you smiled to yourself, crossing your legs and leaning further back into your chair

“you can call me cherry. d’you want me to help you out, mark?” a high pitched but quiet noise slipped from his lips, and you felt yourself throb

he sounded sweet as could be, and he wasn’t bossing you around like some of the other men

hell, with most of your clients, the call would’ve already been over

“i didn’t call to get off, was just for fun.. what’s your real name” you bit your lip, quickly thinking of how to turn this conversation around

you couldn’t tell him your name, it was against the rules. plus, you knew all too well a tip wouldn’t be included if he didn’t get a release

“aw, come on, baby. you spent your money on a call, at least make it worth your while” you purred, completely ignoring his last question

“plus.. i can tell how needy you are. with all the pretty noises you’ve been making” he exhaled shakily on the other line and you grinned, knowing you’d gotten your way

he paused before murmuring an agreement reluctantly. you could hear him shuffling to get himself out of his pants, hissing when the cool air hit his tip

“d’you want me to use my fingers, baby? know it won’t be as nice as yours, but it’ll feel real good,” he whimpered at your words, the cap on his bottle of lube making a loud creaking noise as he pulled it open

“fuck- fucking yes, please” he worked out, biting his knuckle at the cool sensation covering his length. once he had his hand wrapped around himself, he groaned and almost dropped his phone

you pushed your panties to the side, using spit for lubricant and pushing your fingers into yourself

you moaned softly, earning a squeak from his chair and a whine from his lips as he bucked his hips up into his hand

“oh, baby. you were needy, huh?” you teased and he struggled on the other end, wanting to tell you he wasn’t, just that it feels good

how else is he meant to react?

“poor thing.. probably throbbing in your hand. wish i could get my mouth on you. you’d be all better n’ then you could let me worry about taking care of myself,” he groaned out a no at that, tip leaking with precum at the mention of your mouth on him

“no.. no, y’ could use me. fuck- ah. fuck yourself on me. i could take it”

and by the sounds of it, you knew he couldn’t. you knew he’d be a whining mess, overstimulated and trying not to fuck up into you even though he’s so sensitive and it’s too much to bare.

you knew he’d be gripping onto your hips for dear life and leaking precum into you cause it feels so good

you knew he’d scratch at your skin and muffle his moans into your shoulder. you knew he’d come again when you pulled at his hair or moaned his name

you knew you shouldn’t be thinking of any of that. not when he was a paying customer and you’d likely never hear from him again

but it had been the first time your fingers glided smoothly inside yourself. the first time you’d felt any pleasure while talking to the guys on this line, so you kept thinking of it.

of how good he sounded right now, with just his hand wrapped around himself

of how if you could ever get your hands on him, you’d make him even worse off

of how good he’d feel inside of you, how you’d squeeze him just to watch his eyes flutter shut in pleasure

of how drunk he’d get off the feeling of you around him

of how he’d love to use his mouth, and how he’d be so proud to feel you come against him while you grip his hair

and then it dawned on you that he could live in a completely different state. you didn’t even know what he looked like. did he have hair to tug on?

and just like that, this call was work again.

“are you close, baby?” he responded with a pained whimper, gathering himself to eventually give you a confirmation

“yes, i- oh, fucking god m’ so close. can i come, please? i want- i want to come, i need it, please” you bit down on your lip so hard it drew blood, core fluttering around your fingers at how sweet he sounded

it was so, so unhealthy. but the more you curled your fingers and the closer you got, the more you wished this wasn’t business for you.

the more you wished you were with him, helping him release before he leaves for whatever city he’s going to next.

“yeah, baby. you can come. d’you wanna come with me? you’ve got me so close, feels so good,” you’d said it a hundred times, and this was the first time it was the truth.

his reaction made it even better.

“fucking- ngh.. yes. god, yes. s’ all i want. wanna come with you, please” you grinned, counting down for him and then covering your mouth to hear his pathetic whines and groans while he made a mess of himself

you leaned your head back on the rest of your chair once your heart rate came back down, lips parted in shock at how powerful your orgasm was

you quickly came back to your senses when the front door to your house slammed, signalling it was time for you to turn off your work phone for the night

“shit,” you sighed, quickly scrambling to get your shorts on right

��what? what’s wrong,” mark exhaled, and you grimaced

“oh no, it’s okay, baby. just made a mess of myself. your times just about up, s’ time to go”

“wait! what- how do i talk to you again,”

you pursed your lips, shaking your head to yourself

“ask for candy. sweet dreams, baby,” your customer service voice was higher than at the beginning of the conversation

you could not get attached to a client cause he was sweet. you wouldn’t

“you said your name was cherr-“

and the line went dead.

“hi, sweetheart. how’s your night been?” you heard the hitching of his breath through the speakers of your phone and your skin went hot

“s’ this cherry?” you licked your lips, mouth suddenly dry

it’d only been a day since your first call with him. in all honesty, you were still recovering from his voice, hearing him.

“sure is, baby. who’s this?” you knew it was him. it had to be. none of your regulars would so softly ask if they’d been directed to the right girl

truly, none of your regulars would know the difference if they’d been sent to the wrong girl

“it’s mark,” he explained, and your eyes fluttered shut.

you tried to keep your composure, act like he was just gonna be one of your new clients that came back to you every time

you were gonna ignore the fact that you’d never heard prettier moans, that you’d never come on this line before last night

“hi, baby. same as last night? know you felt real good if you’re coming right back” you faked a giggle, trying to keep up with the teasing

trying to keep up with having the control

you didn’t like to have no control.

“no, just wanna talk to you,” he said, smile evident in his tone.

fuck

“baby-“

“i’ll still tip real nice, i promise. you could take anything you want from me, baby, and i’d thank you,” your breath got caught in your throat, the sincerity in his voice a painful reminder that you were on the phone with an angel that didn’t belong to you

but, he got you. you didn’t have any other true excuse. he was paying for a service, and what he wanted was to talk, so you talked

he was vague about his job, but said he was still in college

he asked if you worked elsewhere, you told him you bartended a few nights a week

he asked what kinds of things you did growing up, if any hobbies stuck around

and just as you were about to weasel your way out of the conversation, tell him your shift was up and you needed to turn off your work phone, he muttered a confession

“i had a dream about you,”

you didn’t reply, your eyes wide and mouth opening and closing like a fish

“you’re real pretty, n’ we were together, having dinner with family for the fourth.

then it got.. needy, n’ i had to wake myself up but before that it was heaven. was like my perfect life, and i could finally work out who my dream girl was.

s’ you. that pretty voice, so sweet to me, n’ teasing about how we could’ve been out at a party for the fourth,”

when you took too long to answer, he muttered your stage name questioningly, like he’d thought the line went dead

“mark.. i’m not the girl in your dreams,” you explained, trying to keep your tone unfaltering despite the fact that you did not want to deny his words, even to yourself

“you don’t know what i look like, baby. you said she was real pretty. maybe someone else! someone you know, who’s nearby,”

your heart dropped to your stomach when you heard nothing in response, knowing that you’d hurt him, that he hurt himself.

eventually, he argued

“no. it was you. you talk the same, i jus’ have this feeling. i know it was you,” before you could try and calm him down, his time was up and the call cut off.

you’d hoped he’d find the girl in his dream, but you knew well enough it couldn’t possibly be you.

you knew that the whole thing had gone too far.

he shouldn’t feel rejected, and you shouldn’t feel guilty. but he was and you do, because the world is cruel like that

“hi, sweetheart. how’s your night been?” your sickly sweet tone honestly hurt your own ears at this point, tonight having been one of the busiest nights since you started working for the hotline

that’s why you didn’t notice the sweet moan your voice earned from the person on the other end

“hi, i- oh, god..” you rolled your eyes at the faint sound of lube coming in through the speakers of your phone

“already so worked up, baby,” you giggled, hoping you didn’t sound too disinterested

and then he whined, and your eyes widened.

you muttered his name and he moaned again, struggling to cool down enough to talk properly

“m’ sorry, know i freaked you out, i- i just need this so bad, please. been throbbing for days n’ it’s like you’re my fuckin’ drug,”

you smiled, cooing slightly at him.

this you could handle. this, you felt gave you control.

you helped guys get off every day, so you could just pretend that’s all this was - you helping him come

“aw, baby. sounds like you just need me to take care of you, yeah? d’ you want that?” he moaned, louder than he ever had before, the back of his throat making a guttural noise that went straight to your core.

“please, please take care of me. fuckin’ aching for your voice,” so you obliged. telling him what pace to go, a toy tucked into your panties so you could finally get off again, too.

you had him right on the edge, his increased moans and the sound of his chair from his hips bucking both telltale signs that you got him right where you needed him

“stop,”

“what?!”

“stop touching, hands off for me, baby,”

you could hear that he obliged, and you let him catch his breath before teasing him

“you’re such a good listener, baby,” you praised and he moaned, his creaking voice making his neediness all the more apparent

“fuck. tell me again, please,” you smiled to yourself, figuring it couldn’t hurt to mess with him a little more

“you can touch,” is all you said, core fluttering when he made a small noise of disappointment

the slick noises from his lube were prominent, and you knew he was holding back the best he could. trying not to moan

trying not to ask again, to plead for you to tell him what he so desperately wanted to hear

“what’s got you so quiet, baby? you’re done being good?” with that, the dam broke.

he lost it, begging you to sweet talk him some more, to confirm for him that you were satisfied with what he’d been doing

his words were a jumbled mess, pleas being drowned out by moans and you could tell he was already close again

when he finally gave up on thinking of the right words to convince you, he just repeated please

over and over again until you shushed him

he obeyed, hoping it would get him what he so desperately needed to hear from you

“there we go, baby. good. that’s good,” you paused, smiling to yourself and waiting til you heard a shaky breath from him

“you’re listening so well, sweetheart. perfect for me. good boy,”

you bit your lip, eyes closing as you heard his seat creaking with every squirm of his hips

your core throbbed at his struggle to stay quiet, because you never told him he could be loud again.

he failed miserably, hoarse wines and groans spilling from his lips and clouding your senses

you knew he’d come. his breath was hitching from over sensitivity and the slick sounds of his lube had calmed down to none as he caught his breath

you’d come, too. biting down on your knuckle to make sure your own noises couldn’t block out the ones coming in from the other line

once he caught his breath, he thanked you. over and over, he murmured his thanks so sweetly

“sweet dreams, baby,” you smiled sombrely, your own lungs finally full again

“wait, please don’t-“

“mark.”

silence filled the line, and he sniffled awkwardly

“i need to ask you not to call back, mark. i’m sorry,”

“okay,” you hung up, rubbing your face roughly and shaking your head

fuck.

“hi, sweetheart,” the brunette boy across from you rolled his eyes, a ritual you’d become quite fond of

he always came in with a group of guys, a group you eventually learned was a camp of hockey players that were developing with the devils.

he would order an unruly number of beer, and have you help him bring them to the table

today, he sat at a barstool, and ordered three beer

“no peanut gallery tonight, eddy?” you grinned and he shook his head

“just shea, tonight. he’s in the bathroom with one of our buddies from college. holding hands, or something,” he winked, taking a sip out of his bottle once you opened it for him

“oh, yeah? who’s your buddy?” you replied, drying off a newly cleaned glass and setting it in its spot

the night was slow, so you were glad he’d showed up. he was never weird, and he and his friends usually tipped generously

he looked over his shoulder, the two boys coming out of the bathroom and chatting away

he nodded towards them, and you waited for the two of them to sit before opening the other two beer and sliding them over

you smiled at seamus, a quiet greeting, and then looked over at the other boy

“you gonna tell me your name or do i have to id you?” he blushed and ethan smiled, shaking his head

“i’m just fucking with you,” you leaned over to ruffle his hair, earning a small smile

he had light hair, and he was tall, built. his cheeks were burnt red from the sun and though he was smiling, his eyes were sad

“this is mark. excuse his puppy pout, he’s all depressed cause a girl rejected him,” you playfully glared at ethan, scolding him for being mean to his friend

“we don’t even think she exists,” seamus added, eyebrows going up and down to add to the teasing

“yeah, cause he won’t tell us where she’s from, what she looks like, or even her first na-“ ethan was met with a slap to the back of the head from mark, his hat flying off and landing on the floor behind him

“she exists.” mark stated, taking a swig of his drink and relaxing his jaw, knowing his friends were just being assholes

you, however, were suddenly panicking.

this was your mark. only guy to make you come without touching you mark.

sweet, soft, needy mark who said you were the girl of his dreams. who called a number he saw on a porn site to ask you about your life

you smiled at the three of them before serving another customer, giving yourself the time to recover while making their drink

you didn’t have a clue in the world what to do, other than let him know. without embarrassing him, without making a mess of his social life, you needed him to know

casually coming back over to them to finish up doing dishes, you leaned on your elbows

“tell me more about your girl, sweetheart,” you emphasized the sweetheart, putting on your hotline girl tone for the one word and hoping ethan and seamus just thought you were teasing him

you watched as his eyes went wide, then quickly set back to normal. he blinked a few times, cheeks doing pink and lips parting in shock

“she’s real pretty. i hardly even know her and it’s like she’s studied me her whole life. the second we met she knew her way around me,”

you raised an eyebrow, telling him to continue

“i don’t know, she’s got a spot in my head where my life looks different. nobody else does that,” he mumbled, eyes boring into yours with a pleading look

he just needed one chance

“a daydreamer, hm?” you teased him and smiled bashfully

“i’ve got a boy like that. his spot in my brain’s different, too. but i don’t even know if he’s really like that. most of him i just made up,” you shrugged, hoping he would get the hint

when you met him, you saw a life that wasn’t yours. that would never be yours. a fake timeline you could think of when shit got hard, is all

but you’d never have that, because the version of him you think of is your dream boy. someone based off him, but not really him

you gave him new hobbies in your head. you gave him a personality you weren’t sure even came close to his, cause you didn’t know him, he just sparked you to want better.

he was just a bedtime story. something to help you see what you really wanted in the grand scheme of things, in the future

you knew in his head, he saw a girl that could take care of him all the time the same way you did on the calls

but that wasn’t the truth and you knew it. you had more to you than that. more problems, more shit going on that wasn’t front and centre in the version of you he made

nobody ever sees dimension in a daydream, yourself included.

“i don’t mind if she’s not the same as i made her out to be,”

before you could respond there was a hand on your ass and waist, a mouth too close to your ear for your liking.

“bottomless pockets at table 12. he wants you,”

you cowered into yourself, uncomfortable in the way he was grabbing you and uncomfortable with serving ‘bottomless pockets’

“you know he gets handsy, ryan, i don’t-“ your whisper shouting was cut off by his grip tightening on your waist

“do you want to fucking walk home?” you shook your head, looking over at mark before going over to serve table 12

when you came back, sporting a tight lipped smile, ethan had been in the bathroom and mark hadn’t taken his eyes off you

“i’ll take a walk,” seamus nodded, giving you a pitiful look before getting up off his stool and walking away

“i’m not the girl in your dreams, mark. i can’t be. i’m stuck being the girl in theirs,” he looked down at his drink, messing with the empty bottle.

“you’ll be the girl in my dreams til i can convince you to be the girl in my arms, y/n.”

#e’s fics #e goes a little feral #mark estapa #mark estapa x reader #mark estapa smut #hockey imagine #nhl imagine

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vidding · 1 year

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The Best Vidding Safe Haven?

Forgive the "read bait" meme above but if you are reading these words right now that means it worked. If you are a vidding fan then it was worth it. Vidders.net was born July 19, 2010. It is a Vidder-friendly AO3 Embed Certified Vid hosting & streaming site with over 18K vids. Its growth benefited from You Tube's increased use of content ID and the closing of Imeem. It was mentioned in the "Vidding: A History" book by Francesca Coppa. Its members (most who host some great vids there) include:

Luminosity

Lim

Laura Shapiro

Lithiumdoll

Obsessive24

Clucking Bells

Charmax

Bradcpu

thedothatgirl

kiki miserychic

Milly

Hollywoodgrrl

bop radar

Loki (secretlytodream)

Condsdmlk

newkidfan

NCISMelanie

Shoopdancer

Absolute Destiny

SD Wolfpup

Arefadedaway

camelia1986

adfproductions

Astarte

Such Heights

Mithoborien

mresundance

Just to name a few. You may not recognize these names but if you do you know these vidders literally made a name for themselves with the quality of their work during that time. At least in my opinion. The site is a time capsule of awesome vids even if some of the vidders listed are no longer active. Additionally, it hosts vids no longer available on You Tube like "Boom Boom Ba" by Charmax (a classic Xena vid). And yet it can still host new content without the issues faced on some other vid hosting options.

How much does it cost to host and stream all those vids? Well, that is one of the reasons for this post. The assumption I'm making is that if there is a Vidding "community" it's more likely than not that members of it would see a post like this and/or share it with fellow members of the community. Is it worth it to keep a site like this around? It's mostly been a solo operation for these past 13 years but now I am starting to wonder after such a long time.

I'll spare you the obligation of filling out a poll or survey. I'll make it simple. We have a Patreon account at patreon.com/vidding. If you don't feel it's worth keeping up. Nothing to do. Thank you for reading this far. If you feel there is some value based on what was mentioned earlier, then a minimum level of support at the Patreon is $1 a month. You'll not only be supporting the Vidders.net but other projects like the recent purchase of the Vidding.com domain name and more. The OTW October fundraiser drive begins in October and is on track to raise about 250k. Rasing even 1 percent of that amount would be more than adequate. After all Vids on AO3 make up less than 1 percent of the content on there anyway. I've been told by a fellow fan that I should keep it running but if it's not even supported by a community, it's a personal expense at my expense I am on the hook for. Again, there is no survey or poll to take but if you have questions that may help you determine your willingness to support just contact me. If you find value in preserving the site just visit Patreon.com/vidding or get your questions answered. This form of funding is more sustainable than occasional stop and start donation efforts we've done in the past. If you prefer another form of funding let us know.

I will check in by the end of October to see where things are. I am not going to do anything drastic. It's just that it's been 13 years and I started to wonder especially with my current financial situation but didn't want to do anything without communicating the situation. The site costs about $720 a year to run. At about $60 a month to run so it should be doable.

Boom Boom Ba by Charmax

If you liked this post you might like this:

The YouTube Vid Purge of 2021

#fanvid #vidding #vidders

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ultra-violet-heart · 10 months

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Fanfare for Frieren (a fan translation)

This is the English fan translation of Fanfare for Frieren (奏送), the accompanying short novella for the opening theme of the Frieren anime, Yuusha by Yoasobi, written by Jirou Kiso with the supervision of manga writer Kanehito Yamada. The images here are from its print/digital version, which has been a bonus from the special edition of Frieren: Beyond Journey's End Volume 12.

Disclaimer: This translation is made by me for fandom purposes only. This unofficial translation is not affiliated with the official Frieren franchise or with Yoasobi. All rights reserved for Frieren: Beyond Journey's End to its respective committees, committee members, staff and rights holders.

Please ask my permission and credit me+this post if you will be re-translating this to other languages. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST THIS OR ITS IMAGES TO OTHER SITES. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE ESPECIALLY ON YOUTUBE AND TIKTOK. Please take the fan translations here with a grain of salt.

I'm posting my Ko-Fi here as currently, I've been having financial trouble regarding my medicine, so if anyone can donate, I would be much grateful for the help, thank you very much.

Five years after the death of Himmel the Hero.

Central Lands, the Capelle [1] Region.

A small city, commonly referred to as “Music City”, was located not far off west of the Royal Capital.

Many renowned musicians, who had established the foundation of court music, went there to study, and they each created orchestras there which continue up to this day. Day and night, orchestral and operatic performances kept theatres crowded, and these performances were well-known in the Central Lands.

The hymns that could be heard from the church also evoked such amicable ties between culture and religion. The singing voices and the performance, both tranquil and powerful, were pleasing to the ears.

There’s unexpected magic in places like this, huh, Frieren thought while walking through the streets with light steps.

She couldn’t visit this place during her journey to defeat the Demon King, but she thought it would have been nice to have taken a detour on the beginning. The journey started from the Royal Capital to the east, she recalled with a little regret.

To that extent, the city was much of a beautiful and isolated place.

The cobblestone pavements reminded one of a flowing music score, while the radial houses reminded one of a well-organized orchestra. The entire city had this atmosphere of welcoming people, so that there was music there for people to listen to.

There might be a wealth of music-related magic in this place. She wasn’t particularly knowledgeable when it comes to music, but folk magic rooted in a distinctive culture was worth collecting for that reason alone.

Following the signboards that were shaped like sheet music and musical instruments, Frieren continued walking.

Just near were an opera house and a museum adjacent to it, and the sound of some rhythm coming from somewhere.

Various sounds overlapped the whole city, however, strangely enough, there was no cacophony at all.

Suddenly, among those sounds, one of the most awkward sounds caught her ear. The timbre sounded like it was carefully walking on ice.

Apparently, a small marching band was passing by in front of the church located in the city’s center. The boys and the girls were preparing for their practice that day, carrying brass instruments too big for their stature and with more percussion instruments than their hands could handle.

A boy wearing a red feathered military hat―or rather, was made to wear one―had this desperate expression as he continued blowing his horn, unconcerned about his reddening face.

Even though from a very young age, all this city’s people had been living together with music.

The sound the boy made while carefully holding the horn, which was said to be the most difficult instrument in the world for humans to play, was not the clearest at all.

However, sometime in the future, that sound will reverberate gallantly and kindly.

Frieren felt it was a timbre suitable for the city.

Frieren continued to walk, as if the small orchestra was pushing her back.

The rustling of leaves, the gurgling water of the fountain, the happy hubbub from the cafeteria. All the sounds of nature and the noise of daily lives here and there gave the impression they were all pleasantly tuned.

It might be said she could stay in here for years while exploring the city thoroughly.

In one corner of the city, there stood an old-looking music store. Its appearance, reflecting its long age, made it stand out.

For some reason, she entered the store. It was a place she wouldn’t normally stop by, but her feet were strangely drawn into it.

Beyond the store’s creaking door, however, a strikingly different but still atmosphere hung about.

Beautifully polished wind instruments. Stringed instruments without a speck of dust. They were placed on a cramped space, lined like capillary vessels. The store’s appearance made it feel like one could hear the breathing of the old craftsman running the store alone.

As she searched for a narrow foothold and was about to head deeper,

“You.” A voice said. Frieren felt it was a matured voice that carefully aged over many years.

An old man, whose white hair was tied up clumsily, peeked out from the back of the store. His sleeves were still rolled up, as if he was still tending to his instruments a short while ago. She caught a glimpse of the old man’s muscles, which were well-toned for his age.

“You… seemed to have lived a life unconnected to musical instruments.”

Adjusting the monocle on his eye, the old man fixed his gaze on Frieren.

“How can you tell?”

“Because you are a face I have not seen before. Those who love music and those who are loved by music will have visited this place sooner or later.”

The old man asserted his words with such sincere belief.

“Those who love music will immediately be obsessed with the instruments here. Those who are loved by music are people my eyes immediately recognize. So, yes, I can tell. Will you let me see your face?”

And then he beckoned her to come closer.

“My, my, I am surprised. It seems like you are the latter.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your ears, the corner of your eyes, your features. You appear to be an elf.”

“I am an elf, but…”

Frieren didn’t immediately catch the drift of the conversation.

“I have something I want people like you to have.”

After saying, “Wait for me,” the old man turned on his heel and took out a small wooden box from the back of the store and opened it. Inside was a palm-sized ocarina-like musical instrument.

The instrument’s intricate design was obvious even to the untrained eye.

“This is the Möglich. [2]”

“Möglich?”

“Its other name is ‘the Impossible’ [2]. It’s an instrument said to take a hundred years to master.”

“I once heard the horn is said to be the most difficult instrument in the world for humans to play.”

Frieren replied, recalling the boy from the marching band earlier. She remembered him struggling to play.

“That is a topic for ordinary humans. This instrument, however, was originally made by elves. You seem to be unaware of this.”

“That’s right. I didn’t know. Though it’s not strange if some elf did invent something like that.”

Frieren knew some of her own kind who spent so many years just killing time. [3]

“My great-grandfather inherited the Möglich, and he analyzed its structure. Apparently, it is impossible to produce a sound with this instrument unless they continue infusing in a small amount of mana while maintaining a perfect equilibrium. It would take more than ten years to produce a proper sound on this instrument. Fifty years is not even enough for an experienced mage to play one tune with it.”

“Really?” Frieren replied vaguely, not making it clear whether she was interested or not.

“I heard after one hundred years of diligently studying it, the sound one can play from this instrument is unparalleled.”

In fact, the old shopkeeper spent his life trying to master it. However, it was impossible for him to master the instrument as he did not possess any magical power. He could not even make it produce a sound.

“There is yet no one who has mastered it, much less know how to play it, so this instrument is still for sale, waiting for a buyer.”

The instrument had this eye-popping price tag. It was an amount that could already buy a house, and there was no way Frieren could afford it, not with the travelling-expenses-money she had on hand.

Of course, Frieren had no intention to buy it.

Certainly, it was rather interesting a fellow elf spent part of their long life in the form of developing this musical instrument. What kind of elf are they? Why did they give it to humans?

Most likely, she felt that this might be no more than a prank. It was an instrument that made sounds that could not be produced within the very short, fleeting lives of humans, after all.

“I am here because I want to hear the Möglich’s melodies one day. I have long sought for that timbre no words can describe. For so many years, this whole time. I eagerly awaited any who loved music or is loved by music to come here and finally fulfill my wish. It might be an impossible dream now, but I feel the guidance of the Goddess is at work that I am able to meet you, an elf.”

“I’m sorry, but…”

“I have no need for your money.”

“I can’t pay, then.”

“I want an elf like you to have it.” The old shopkeeper said with a strong tone.

His eyes held no arrogance on them, as if he was pushing his impossible dream onto someone else, but instead were filled with unadulterated hope.

“………”

After some hesitation, Frieren replied.

“If there’s no other buyers, I’ll think about it. This should be bought by someone who should own it though.”

“I see… Come back. I am sure you will.”

“I’ll be back. I plan on staying here for a while.”

The old man, as if to remind himself, called out to Frieren as she was about to leave.

“What is your name?”

“Frieren.”

“What a fine name. A name loved by music.”

The dusk was casting its shadow over the city by the time she left the music store.

Frieren felt how the city’s tune changed between day and night.

Unlike the bustling daytime and the soundless midnight, the comforting evening was like a soft breeze caressing her cheeks.

Let’s have dinner, Frieren thought.

During the time she traveled with Himmel and their party, Himmel always decided where they would eat. He had this exceptional ability to find out any restaurant that had what Frieren and the others wanted without them telling him what they were in the mood to eat.

How did you know? She once asked him at the dinner table.

“You all have this way of showing what you’re thinking on your faces.”

Himmel smiled as he said this.

“Heiter’s face now has the color of a ditch.”

Eisen took a glance at the drunkard next to him.

“What?!”

Heiter looked back at Frieren, his face looking like an undead. He was so dead drunk he couldn’t tell the difference between Eisen and Frieren.

“You reek of booze.”

Frieren kicked him while Himmel laughed.

“Frieren, you see, I enjoy nothing more than having a meal with the four of us like this. I choose the food every one of us like as I want to make sure we all have a good time.”

She recalled wondering even then if it was the answer to her question.

She then looked at the restaurant now in front of her and thought it had the same appearance and atmosphere as the one from that time.

This restaurant, called Parlante [3], was such a calm place it was like it was not her first time entering it.

“What did Himmel like?”

Thinking back, Himmel always ordered his food last. It was often a different dish from theirs, or he would choose a dish that was easy to share between the four of them.

After that, he would portion out his food little by little, share that, and say, “Isn’t it more fun to have a variety of dishes at once?”

They had eaten around the table in as many places as she could remember. They partook of seafood when they were in coastal towns, they ate wild greens and hunted game in campgrounds, and they particularly were fond of each region’s local specialties.

“The food that can only be eaten in the place you’re in becomes a shared memory with the people you went in with. Even if you forget, you’ll remember again when you go there and eat the local food. That’s how I want to travel.”

Frieren remembered them talking about this one day, so she then called the waiter.

“Is there any dish you can only eat at this restaurant?”

Would Himmel be surprised to find out she had started thinking like that? Or would he laugh and say, “It’s written on your face,” as if he had already predicted this would happen?

The waiter flipped carefully through the menu pages.

“Our specialty is the l'oeuf omelette [4], made of ten chicken eggs. This dish has four servings, so shall I bring you a quarter of that?”

“No, I’ll order it as it is. If I can’t finish it all, I’ll have the rest on take-out.”

This dish, which was loved by well-known musicians, was bigger than expected and took up a large space on the table.

The evening for one person went on, her recalling that lively dinner table she once shared with others.

It has been a month since she stayed, but she had been so distracted by the magic tool shops and the cityscapes, she wasn’t able to fully explore the small city.

Every time she passed the music store, however, the old shopkeeper would enthusiastically call Frieren’s name.

It had become routine for both of them to exchange small greetings.

It wasn’t particularly a trouble to Frieren, but somehow, she felt like going somewhere a bit different for today.

Not far off the city center, there was a street lined with monuments of musicians. Some were well-known, but others were unknown to Frieren.

At the end of the line, however, she found a rather out-of-place statue.

It was a bust of Himmel holding a violin. It was probably commissioned by the time he was travelling alone in neighboring countries after the Demon King’s defeat.

“He was here, too…” Frieren muttered unconsciously.

His eyes were closed, but his facial expression on the chin rest conveyed such a strong will. This must be the work of a skilled craftsman. One could tell a lot of time was spent making the statue. The finish it had was unique even among the more than one hundred types of heroes’ statues.

“So, he could play such a musical instrument.”

She muttered those words to herself, not wanting anyone else to hear, but from behind her came an unexpected response.

“It’s just as Master Himmel said.”

When Frieren turned around, she saw the speaker was an old woman. There was quite a gap between the woman’s voice, which was quite youthful, and the woman’s elderly appearance. The woman continued with a well-projected voice.

“Might you be Lady Frieren?”

“……?”

For a few moments, Frieren couldn’t understand the words directed at her.

“What do you mean?”

“Master Himmel said that when he came here before.”

The old woman, using skillful vocal acrobatics, reenacted her and Himmel’s state during that time.

“One day in the future, a mage named Frieren will visit this city. I want to make a statue that will serve as a landmark for her.”

“A landmark? Won’t everyone just stop in front of Master Himmel instead?”

“I’m sure they will. But I’m also sure they’ll recognize her immediately as she gazes at me.”

“Is that how it is?”

“Yes, it is.”

The old woman cleared her throat once, ending her little performance. Frieren felt it was strange, given the woman was surprisingly good at imitating voices. She was then told the woman was a former star performer at a circus troupe. It was no wonder that the woman’s voice carried through strongly.

“My apologies for the late introduction. My name is Flöte [5]. I got too excited at meeting you, Lady Frieren. This is embarrassing…”

Her cheeks blushed, a complete change from moments earlier when she was still acting with different voice tones.

“I witnessed a good performance.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Flöte smiled like a blooming flower.

“It seems like the statue was worth making.”

“Master Himmel lamented the statue wasn’t enough to convey his charm to the public.”

“Himmel would probably say that.”

Frieren then wiped the rust off the bronze statue’s flowy hair with a rag she carried.

“If only there was a ‘spell that removes rust from bronze statues’, this clean-up would be easier.”

“Let me help you.”

“It’s all right. I can do it on my own. So, why did Himmel say that?”

As all the rust was wiped off and the statue’s smile returned, the old woman answered Frieren with a mysterious look on her face.

“I have a favor to ask of you, Lady Frieren.”

She said it so apologetically that Frieren got an anxious expression.

“…What’s the reward?”

“A grimoire with the ‘spell to record sounds in a book’.”

At that point, Frieren broke into a smile.

“All right, I’m in.”

“So, you want to dispel a spell that will not dispel until the caster dies?”

Frieren asked again, repeating the old woman’s words.

“That’s rather difficult. Nearly impossible, even.”

“’I’m sure Frieren will do it’, that’s what Master Himmel told me before.”

“That’s absurd.”

“I’m also embarrassed to say… I am the caster in question.”

“I’m not getting the situation. What do you mean?”

“I ought to speak in order, then.”

As the old woman said this, she began narrating her personal history.

Flöte was not born in the Capelle region, but in a family of mages, and her parents moved to the area as they hated the horrors of war, and there they established a magical circus troupe. She didn’t originally want to join the troupe, but due to the education she received, she was able to use various magic spells back then.

One of those spells was the ‘spell to erase one memory until death’. It would be a terrible spell if abused by others, but the spell was restricted so that it can only be cast on oneself.

There were many rumors about its effectiveness, which were never true. Some people said it reminded them of the moment of death where one’s whole life flashed before one’s eyes, while others said it meant like being buried in eternal darkness.

In any case, it was a mysterious kind of magic.

One day, when she was 15 years old, having mastered the spell at such a young age, she then cast it upon herself.

Since then, Flöte had lost that one memory, even until now.

“In short, I want to dispel that oblivion spell I casted upon myself.”

“What memory did you erase?”

“That’s the thing: I don’t know. I did erase it, after all.”

With downcast eyes, she connected her words.

“However, I began to wonder if I did lose something important on a whim, especially as I grew older and get closer to death. If, due to the heat of the moment, I buried that memory I shouldn’t have lost with the magic spell I learned, at least, I want to remember what it is before I die. I’m sorry, you might think of this as a selfish request.”

The old woman finally spoke in a voice appropriate for her age.

“When Master Himmel was in the city, I got an opportunity to tell him about it. He then told me about you, Lady Frieren. That Lady Frieren is sure to do something about it.”

Observing Frieren carefully, the old woman then appealed to her.

“Please, will you grant my request? I want to spend the little time I have left, which will pass in the blink of an eye, without any regrets.”

The old woman spoke eloquently, but Frieren didn’t reply, seemingly getting lost in her thoughts.

She walked through the city after, letting time pass, and when night came, she booked a room in a tavern.

Late at night, when the tavern earlier filled with cheerful music finally went quiet, the events of the day came to Frieren’s thoughts as she leafed through the pages of her grimoire.

“This journey must have been a blink of an eye for you,” Himmel said.

The comment came as perfectly natural as picking vegetables in the market.

“I’ve almost died so many times, but now that I’ve made it here, everything feels so nostalgic.”

After the Demon King’s defeat, Himmel continued on as he rode the shaky carriage back to the Royal Capital.

“Frieren. I know you don’t think of this as nostalgic yet, but the day will come when you remember this journey, us, and this moment. I don’t know when that will be. Maybe after I die. Even so, I’m sure you’ll be able to laugh and say, ‘That was a silly journey, wasn’t it?’”

“It’s too early for the serious talk! We haven’t truly defeated the Demon King until we return home!”

Heiter continued to tease them while smiling.

“Well, we still have requests to fulfill.”

On his return to the Royal Capital, Himmel received many requests. He took on small tasks to help people, fixing roads, even searching for lost things.

Their current request back then was from the village undertaker, who asked them to eliminate a monster that only reacted to human corpses.

When asked for more details, the undertaker said there was a dragon blocking the only bridge that connected the village and the town. Since the dragon damaging the area only occurred when corpses were carried away, it was concluded that the dragon had the tendency to target only corpses.

It didn’t respond to scarecrows, and pretending to be dead didn’t work on it either. Since it only paid attention to real human corpses, Frieren guessed it might have eyes that could detect whether a person is alive or dead.

“I’ll act as bait.”

Himmel spoke resolutely, as he always did.

“You just defeated the Demon King, and you want to die here?” Eisen said. “Stop being reckless!”

“Even Eisen, who doesn’t die even if he was eaten by monsters, is useless this time, huh.”

“Heiter, shut up.”

Frieren looked at the two badmouthing each other and then asked.

“Can’t we just borrow a corpse?”

“We can’t do that, Frieren.”

Himmel continued, as if to admonish her.

“A dead person is the image of a life lived fully. We can’t recklessly put that in danger. Besides, even if I’ll be acting as bait, I won’t truly die. Frieren, you can put me in a state of suspended animation, yes?”

“A state of suspended animation?”

She once casted the ‘spell to encase a living creature on ice’ on a ferocious enormous fish. Himmel must have that time in mind when he said this.

“Are you sure? If I make a slight mistake, you’ll truly die.”

“You can do it, right?”

“I don’t know.”

Frieren shrugged her shoulders and…

“Just do it this time. You’re capable of it, after all.”

“Go for it!”

Heiter and Eisen happily cheered.

“I don’t know what will happen.”

Himmel stood on top of the bridge as Frieren took out her staff.

“Frieren. Fire at me.”

A flash of mana concentrated on the staff’s tip then enveloped Himmel. The air around froze, and Himmel quietly collapsed.

Soon after, a very large shadow appeared on the bridge. A dragon came on sight. As it circled the sky above, it went straight at Himmel, as if it had set its sights on him. Its piercing eyes and the sharp claws it brought out now loomed nearer.

Facing that, a large swing of the warrior Eisen’s axe violently exploded.

A heavy, dull sound echoed throughout the area.

White smoke and cold air blended, then wafted away as if they were thawing. One could see that Eisen was the last one standing.

Frieren then promptly used the ‘spell to warm up the skin’ on Himmel’s cold body.

Regaining his breath, Himmel smiled at Frieren with a reddened face.

“See? I told you; you can do it.”

Frieren snapped her grimoire shut.

“The ‘spell to erase one memory until death’, huh.”

The next day, as the morning sun rose, the city became slowly filled with sound.

Frieren woke up on the hard floor far from her bed, and with bed hair she went to Flöte’s house.

It was to put a theory into practice. This was a drastic measure, but in Frieren’s opinion this measure would work.

“Lady Frieren, good morning. Did you find out anything?”

The old woman’s voice seemed refreshed.

“You’ll have to die.”

“Huh?”

“That’s why I’ll put you into the state of suspended animation.”

“……”

There was a moment of confusion from the old woman, then silence. However, after a while, she looked like she had made up her mind.

“Please. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

As soon as she heard those words, Frieren gently raised her staff.

“Lie on the bed. I’m starting.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes, indeed, but are you all right with this…?”

“I’ve done it once before. I can do it.”

“If Lady Frieren says so, then it will be all right. Please do so.”

The spell Frieren casted on the old woman enveloped the latter’s body, and for a moment her body stiffened.

Soon after, however, the old woman’s body regained movement, just like how coloring paint flowed when dissolved in water. She then wore this childlike expression, showing a trace of the young girl she once was.

“How are you?” Frieren asked shortly after. “You technically have died once, so your memory should be back.”

“Hahaha… I was worried like a child…”

The old woman seemed to have recovered her lost memory.

As an adolescent, she didn’t want to join the magical circus troupe. Instead, she yearned for a particular musical instrument.

“The Möglich, the instrument said to take a hundred years to master…”

She strongly yearned for it, but it was too expensive, and she could not spend a hundred years on it, so as a child, she thought she could just forget it existed.

So, she sealed that memory instead. She put the lid on that unattainable wish and began to live on reality.

“I’m glad I remembered… I’ll put my life on the line even if it takes years before I reached my dream, and I’ll start learning from now on.”

“I see. Then, you should have that instrument.”

As the Möglich was an instrument which used magical power to produce sound, without doubt, it would be a good match for Flöte, who was a mage.

“I’ll tell the music store shopkeeper. That there is this customer who has wanted it for a long time.”

“Oh, no. Are you truly sure?”

“I want someone who loves music more than me to have it, you see.”

“Thank you very much. Lady Frieren, I cannot thank you enough.”

“I get rewarded anyways, so…”

“Yes, you’re right.” The old woman took out a grimoire from her bookshelf. “This is the grimoire with the ‘spell to record sounds in a book’. I’m ashamed to say I have already recorded various sounds in this book…”

Flöte’s eyes went downcast as she said this, just like when she and Frieren first met.

“It sounds like a strange hobby, isn’t it? As it was routine for me to travel to various places as part of the magical circus troupe, I had a lot of once-in-a-lifetime chance encounters, and I wanted to preserve them in some form. The local people and the sounds from nature became my source of support. Among these are the recordings of my meetings with Master Himmel.”

“This isn’t a strange hobby. Himmel would have said the same.”

Frieren said she would return the grimoire when she finished reading it, then left the room.

On the same day, Frieren went to Restaurant Parlante, which was now a completely familiar place for her, and ordered an omelette. When she went to bed with a full stomach, she then opened the grimoire the old woman gave her.

Just as Flöte said, the grimoire had sounds from various ages, places, genders of people… some of them were sounds from nature, some being the noise of daily lives.

“You… you look familiar.”

Was this how the old music store shopkeeper sounded like when he was younger?

“I’ll have the ten-egg l'oeuf omelette, please!”

The voice of a very well-known musician continued.

“This time, I’m thinking of starting a marching band in this city.”

“One day in the future, a mage named Frieren will visit this city. I want to make a statue that will serve as a landmark for her.”

She heard Himmel’s voice as she turned a page. His voice was a bit different from the last time she met him, but it was still Himmel’s voice from her memories. It felt nostalgic, too.

And she realized that Flöte’s voice imitation before was a bit exaggerated.

“Please pose quickly! You’re just holding a violin…!”

This was probably the heartbroken cry of the craftsman who made that Himmel bust.

It seemed like Flöte, as a young girl, followed her interests and recorded these sounds from the various places she went, and the chance encounters she cherished. Frieren could just imagine how she looked like during then.

“………”

It might not be a bad idea to retrace that journey with everyone, she thought, looking at the east towards the Royal Capital.

In the end, Frieren decided to leave after staying in the city for around three months.

When she said goodbye to the music store shopkeeper, he excitedly said, “Flöte loves music and is loved by music.” He said the old woman mastered producing sounds on the Möglich at an extraordinarily fast pace, something that would have normally taken ten years.

After all, it was appropriate for those who should own it to have it.

As she was preparing herself to leave with these thoughts in mind, a marching band passed by in front of the tavern.

The boy playing the horn had grown taller in a short time, and his hat now fitted him better. His fingers holding the horn now had calluses on them, and his blowing on it sounded less labored than before.

The sound was brave and gentle, but eventually became grainy.

A celebratory fanfare sounding like a parade salute echoed on Frieren’s back as she left the city.

(END)

Translator’s Notes:

[1] Written as カペッレ in katakana. I decided to translate it as “Capelle”, as the word means “the private orchestra or band of a prince or church”, which is a reference to the marching band in this short novel.

[2] Written as メークリヒ in katakana. In German, “möglich” means “possible”.

[3] Written as パルランテ in katakana. “Parlante” means “a piece of music to be sung or played in the style of a recitative”.

[4] In French, "l'oeuf" means "egg". In short, this word is just a fancy term for "egg omelettes".

[5] Written as フレーテ in katakana. In German, “Flöte” means “flute” or “whistle”.

[6] Frieren was most likely thinking of Milliarde, an elf friend of hers who first appeared in Chapter 69.

#frieren: beyond journey's end #sousou no frieren #frieren #葬送のフリーレン #フリーレン #yoasobi #frieren anime #frieren at the funeral #himmel #heiter #eisen #kanehito yamada #jirou kiso #yuusha #勇者

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wszczebrzyszynie · 10 months

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Do you perhaps have some space mining au etho lore? I love your design for him catboy etho is so real

The thing about Etho is that his lore is very... meta? Its edgy because space mining is made to resemble a 90s anime. Hes just one of those characters. I have a proper digital artwork of him but its not coloured and i dont have my laptop with me. So instead have an old chibi i made. With Zed. Everything is under the read more

He was born in a lab... all alone. He was genetically modified to have animal features; not exactly a legal procedure, and definitely not a common one. Child experiment made in the name of science. Etho can easily say hes one of a kind... he doesnt even have any strong health complications from that. He was probably the only one out of the children there. It was generally speaking a very traumatic experience. He managed to escape off planet in his teens and was homeless for a while. A stray kitten if you will. While living on the site, he never really had any experience with the outside world; he knew... some things, but not enough to survive on his own

Living on the streets was hard on him. He didnt even know how things like shops or money work; it was never something he needed to know, as his existence was kept a secret. He didnt even know that an apperance like his is something... special. He knew hes one of the only "animal hybrids", but he didnt exactly... connect the dots, what that would mean. After some time of barely surviving he managed to find his place; not really his people, but a community that would help him when he really struggled, even if it took them a while to get used to him. Which is something he really, really needed, as in the beginning Etho couldnt really steal or even lie very well. He was very much a stray, wet cat. And he grew up like this, learning more things from the streets, becoming clever, more... cat-like. He managed to... ułożyć sobie życie (whatever the translation of that is; he was satisfied with his life). And then his colony got destroyed by the organisation Pearl was in, kickstarting his bounty hunting buisness; something that will take well over 10 years.

Cool Etho facts that i couldnt fit well in the backstory part:

Despite his pathetic beginnings he becomes what i would call a one man army... he knows how to get information. He can fight well. Can fix his own tech. Despite his generally chill attitude hes a foe to be feared. He kills people

His bounty hunter persona is kept anonymous for safety reasons. He could be called anarchist, doesnt mind breaking the law, and hes a child experiment runaway. No one knows how he looks like; he actively hides his cat-like features (with a helmet and custom crafted coat to hide the tail). The reason i dont draw him with one is because i like kitty

Hes a huge decked out fan. One of many in the story, apparently. He holds no negative feelings towards Tango (and in fact respects him a lot), but the callisto explosion was rumored to be connected with earthian terrorists, so he just... ended up trying to catch him. Recreationally. He was very obvious about his love for decked out the whole time and tried sharing his strategies.

#artwork #ethoslab #space mining au

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novasway · 2 years

Text

HER WAY — SULLY FAMILY

desc: you, ( name ), are jake and neytiri's oldest daughter. being already 18 and under tsu'tey's wing ( he isn't dead in here because i love him and i want uncle tsu'tey content ) you are ready to step up as the next olo'eyktan once your father was ready to give up his spot within the next couple of years but of course that wasn't the case.

fem!reader, the reader stands up to jake like twice, i'm running on hopes and dreams right now i apologize if there are any mistakes !!

one , two

" YOU KNOW, YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO SHOOT WITH YOUR EYES OPEN FROM WHAT I KNOW, SKXAWNG "

said the male na'vi as he observed the young woman's arrow missing its target once more.

" come on now uncle tsu'tey cut me some slack, we've been at it since the first the first rays of sun . " the woman groaned, tired and hungry .

" . . . fine, you've won this time ( name ), you're dismissed, go before i change my mind . "

with a quick smile and a fast kiss on her uncle's cheek ( name ) started making her way towards her family's tent for breakfast and to spend quality time with them before today's raid .

" ( name )! guys! ( name ) is back! " exclaimed tuk while sprinting towards her older sister ready to embrace her .

" tuktuk, good morning! oh and good morning mother! " greeted ( name ), picking up tuk and making her way towards her mother, neytiri who was sitting outside basking in the crisp air of the forest . " i'm assuming that kiri is with grandma but where are neteyam, lo'ak and dad? "

" good morning, my daughter, and yes, you're assuming correctly, kiri is with grandma as for your brothers and father they've went for a morning fly. " replied neytiri while handing ( name ) a leaf plate of fruits . " it's a shame that you will not be attending the raid today but i understand, your uncle can be quite harsh on you. "

" you can say that again! " chuckled ( name ) while putting tuk down and taking the plate . " and thank you for the food, i haven't gotten the chance to eat yet. " going inside and sitting down, the young woman begins eating before laying down and drifting into dreamland.

it was the screeching of ikrans that woke the girl up, had she slept through the whole raid? that was new but also something she was expecting after training for the whole morning. getting up and changing her attire, ( name ) made her way towards the raid party and before she could see them, she heard them, well she heard him.

" YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE SPOTTERS! YOU SPOT ENEMIES FROM A DISTANCE! DOES ANY OF THIS SOUND FAMILIAR? " hissed her father . " jesus i let you two geniuses fly on a mission and you disobey direct orders . "

" sir i take full responsibility— " started neteyam.

" YEAH THAT'S RIGHT! you're the older brother, you should act like that, i knew i should've taken your sister instead of you two knuckleheads. "

" and you should've also known that their older sister would be listening to you scold your two kids as if we're in the military, father or should i say, sir? " said ( name ) while raising one of her eyebrows. " neteyam is actively bleeding and you're yelling at them. look at them, LOOK! they are hurt. you may continue this little tantrum once they get healed. "

" ( name ) please— "

ignoring her dad, the girl walked towards her brothers, looking over them and frowning upon seeing their injuries. " you two, go get patched up, i'll handle this. " she gently told them as her hands stroked both of their cheeks before they both made their way towards the medical tent.

( name ) turns towards her father with a scowl on her face as soon as she saw that her siblings were nowhere in site. " what was that about? "

" they were— "

" actually i wish to not know. " sighed ( name ). " father i understand where you're coming from but please try to understand them as well. all that neteyam and lo'ak want is to please you and your expectations, and that's hard on them. i'm not saying to not scold them but maybe try to talk and listen to them because if you don't then karma will come and bite your ass when you least expected. " finished ( name ) as she walked up to her dad and hugged him before making her way to where her siblings were .

nothing could've prepared ( name ) for the next day however.

" w— what do you mean we're leaving? what about the forest? th— the people ? i cant abandon them father, i CAN'T . " panicked the older girl once she heard the news of her family's departure. " i've trained night and day so i can take your place and care for the omaticaya people, i'm sorry but i cannot— you cannot ask me to leave them, i won't. "

" then what will you do ( name )? stay here and hope for the worst? what if you die? i cant lose you daughter . . . " said jake as he started tearing up.

a sigh and heartfelt hug were seen and heard before the girl started speaking again .

" i will take your place as olo'eyktan, i won't be alone, i'll have uncle tsu'tey. i've learned all there is to learn so please, leave me behind, escape father. " she pulled away from the hug slightly to look at the rest of her family before continuing. " take mom, tuk, kiri, lo'ak and neteyam and keep them safe, i know you can dad. and meanwhile i will be taking care of the people, i'll make sure that when you come back the forest will be the same as when you left. "

pulling away she grabs a hold on her dad's hands and looks him in the eyes.

" trust me father, trust my way. "

#avatar #avatar the way of water #sully family #jake sully #atwow loak #neteyam #kiri sully #tuktirey #neytiri #sully!reader #jake sully x neytiri #tsutey #avatar x reader

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writingquestionsanswered · 7 months

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How many words is too many? I have written over 80,000 words already and don't have a computer to edit properly. I've already decided to split the story among multiple books. But how many should each be? I am aiming for a basic novel to a little bit longer, but as a first-time author, I don't want to write something too long and not get anyone to read it.

Finding Your Story's Target Word Count

"How many words is too many" depends on what you're writing. Every type of story and every genre has a different word count range, and the specific ranges vary depending on who you ask. Here are some general ranges you can target...

Story Type:

Short Stories - 1,000 - 5,000 words Novellas - 20,000 to 50,000 words Novels - 50,000 - 110,000 words Epic Novel - 110,000 words and up (though these are rare)

Age Category:

Middle Grade novels - 25,000 - 40,000 words Young Adult novels - 45,000 - 80,000 words New Adult novels - 60,000 - 85,000 words Adult novels - 65,000 - 110,000

Genre:

Literary novels - 80,000 to 110,000 words Romance novels - 50,000 to 80,000 words Fantasy novels - 90,000 to 110,000 words Mystery novels - 70,000 to 90,000 words

It's important to remember that a book series isn't one long novel chopped up into smaller books. Each book in a series needs to have its own story arc. In other words, a beginning/inciting incident, middle/rising action, and end/climax and denouement. That said, you will need to look at the completed story and identify the natural story arcs that exist within it to figure out where each book should end and the next book should begin.

Something else to consider is your publishing goal. If you plan on pursuing traditional publishing, you might look into writing an in-depth summary of the entire story and working with a developmental editor or book coach to figure out how to best divvy up the story between books. That way, you'll ensure that book one is as strong as it can be, which will increase the likelihood of getting a book deal. After that, if your book sells well enough to warrant the publishing of the next book, you will have some guidance on where to go from there.

If you're planning to self-publish, you can still look into working with an editor or book coach, or even a critique partner, or you can just make the best decision you're able to about how to divide each book. Again, what matters is that each part of the story centers on its own individual story arc.

Something else to consider: if you have a really long story that you want to chop up into pieces rather than individual books, you might look into posting it as a serial on a site like Wattpad, Kindle Vella, Ream, or similar services. Serialization allows you to take a long story and chop it up into sizeable pieces, such as "episodes," and then you don't have to worry so much about dividing it up into books with their own individual story arcs.

One final consideration: Not having the ability to edit properly is not an excuse to publish an unedited work of fiction. No one wants to read an unedited story, even if it's chopped up into pieces. If you want to publish this story, whether online, traditionally, or self-published, you need to find a way to edit it properly and make sure you're putting a tight and polished version of the story out into the world.

Here are some additional links:

Self-Editing Tips Editing Tips Ten Ways to Cut Your Word Count

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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octuscle · 11 months

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Hey im really confused and need some help from suport.

So im a male actor/ model and things have been really tough in the industry lately with the strikes and all so i was over the moon when a clothing brand reached out to me. But the wierd thing is this brand does not really catter to ny estetic. I usualy get jobs from high end luxury brands, but this company is a street wear blue collar clothing brand. I went to a meeting and gave me a out fit of a thick t-shirt, carpenters jeans, a flannle shirt, work boots, and a jock strap. All of them a size or more to bog for me. They also gave me a dinged up old cell phone. Then then told me to get comferable in thecloths and show up to the abandand site the next morning at the crack of dawn for the shoot. Im feeling realky weird and hungeryer then i ever been in my life. Please help.

The bag with the clothes for the photo shoot is in the trunk of your VW Beetle overnight. Cute little car. It's already got a few years under its belt. But still drives well. And that's all you can afford at the moment. You also need the money from this job. Otherwise you'll have to part with this car too. That's why you're so excited about the job. You're not sleeping very well. And normally you would go for an hour's run after getting up. But today you're hungry after a restless night. A huge appetite. You make yourself a large portion of scrambled eggs and bacon. You didn't even know you had so many eggs in the house. Yeah, that was good. Now the day can begin. You put on a white button-down shirt, plain Calvin Klein jeans and white sneakers and walk to your car at 05:00 in the morning. Yes, the Mustang is a bit rusty. But it's a classic. It suits you. It makes you feel a bit like James Dean.

Shit, you've left your iPhone in the apartment. But there's still the old Cat phone in the bag with the clothes. You type in the address and turn on the speaker. Looking at your hands, you're annoyed that you haven't had a manicure. You have hands like a construction worker.

One disadvantage of your Mustang is that it consumes an incredible amount of gas. You have to refuel halfway to the photo shoot. And take a shit. Hehehe, if you eat a lot in the morning, you have to shit a lot. And you're hungry again. It's almost 07:00 already. So you fill up at the next service station and then eat a burger with a large portion of fries. Your white T-shirt has a few ketchup stains and slips out of your old 501 over your belly, but now you feel good again. Your cell phone says there are only 50 miles to go. A stone's throw for your mighty pickup. The only thing you need before you arrive on the set of the shoot are cigars. Fuck, you left yours at home too. Luckily, you pass a tobacconist's just before you leave for the abandoned industrial site. The photo shoot is scheduled for two days, so ten cigars should be enough.

You are a star model in the workwear scene. You're actually a crane operator, but you can always use a little extra money. Besides, there's usually a lot to fuck on the set of the shoots. Photographers, marketing hipsters and the effeminate professional models love your huge cock. Your cigar is tiny in comparison.

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #male transformation #muscle transformation #inked man #tank top #white to blue collar tf #redneck tf

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 2 years

Text

HERE, KITTY, KITTY (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Aizawa x Black!Catgirl!Reader

Synopsis: In which you find yourself in the weirdest predicament after you’re scooped up and taken to a cat cafe after you decide to take the streets to fight some crime, and you’re adopted by your very anti-social and hot coworker Aizawa aka Eraserhead.

Story Warnings: Smutty Smut, 18+ (MINORS GET AWAY), Swearing, Adult!Reader, Ear and Tail Stroking, Light Degradation, Spanking, Exhibitionism, Multiple Positions, Creampie, Unprotected PIV Sex, Facial, Scent Play, Collaring, Deepthroat, Cunnlingus, Begging, Edgeplay, Power Play, Rope Play/Shibari, Master Kink, Some Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Some Action

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: I done had this idea for YEARS & finally decided to write it. Idk how long this will be BUT I hope y’all live for some coworkers to friends to lovers type shit. Enjoy! -Jazz

Read on AO3 here!

Other Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Twenty-Five.

**********

ONE.

Briiii-iiing!

After what feels like an eternity, the bell signaling your third period and your lunch break has finally rung its joyous sound throughout the halls. You don’t even mind the way it sounds shrill to your overly sensitive ears. But that’s the way of a cat: everything is sensitive to you.

Even as a cat hybrid.

You turn to the student who has become a regular in your office, smiling kindly at him. “That’s for you, too,” you say with a wink. “I don’t think you’d wanna eat lunch with the school counselor, Katsuki.”

Katsuki Bakugou, with his intense stare and a permanent scowl that reminds you of a bulldog, grumbles as he stands and slugs his backpack over his shoulder. He turns to head out of your office without another word.

“Hey,” you say, stopping him. He looks over his shoulder expectantly. “Remember what I said: if someone says something to piss you off, just breathe. Think about what you’d be giving up if you resort to violence. You’re a very intelligent and good kid, Katsuki.”

Bakugou doesn’t reply, but you see something shift on his face. He looks taken aback at your words. But just as quickly as it came, it’s gone and he’s back to his usual cool stare. With a suck of his teeth, he’s leaving your office, slamming the door as he does.

You sit back in your seat and turn towards the window, exhaling slowly. Your view from your office showcases the gorgeous cherry blossoms that are about to bloom–they’re just pink buds right now. You sigh dreamily, so glad spring is here. Finally, you’ll be able to crack open your window to breathe in the sweet scents of blooming flowers and sun.

You remind yourself once again to thank Nezu for such a wonderful spot for your office. Not only do you have the best seat in the house for the view, but you also have your own couch for naps in between breaks and a mini fridge under your desk where you store your lunch and snacks for the kids who come in here to chat about their problems or incidents with other kids (mostly Bakugou).

“As the UA school counselor, it’s important that you’re just as comfortable as our students here!” Nezu brightly proclaimed after giving you the tour of UA on your first day at work. That was at the beginning of September.

Now that it’s March, you’ve been here for six months now. You couldn’t have asked for a better job! You get paid what you weigh with your degrees, you live in an apartment on campus you don’t have to constantly dish out money for public transportation, and everyone you work alongside is so, so nice…

Well, almost everyone.

Not wanting to waste any more time before another kid comes crying into your office about their issues, you take your lunch out of your mini fridge and hurry to head off to the UA teacher breakroom, locking the office door as you do.

When you enter the cozy-looking breakroom with its mini sofas, expensive coffee machine, and sterling steel microwave, you find Nemuri and Mic already sitting at a table. Nemuri glances at the door and grins at you. “Ah, there she is!” she coos. “My favorite cat girl!” Her eyes trail over your form, humming suggestively. “And looking quite fine.”

“Absolutely,” Mic agrees as he pops some rice into his mouth. “Pink is definitely your color, Y/N.”

You flush at the sweet compliments, glad you went for a pink blouse and a nice skirt today. “Why, thank you,” you giggle as you sit next to Nemuri–your usual spot. Your trail curls around your legs, relaxed and content. “So, what’s on for the conversation today?”

“Tonight,” Nemuri replies, wiggling her brows mischievously at you. “We’re still on for tonight, right?” She grips your arm dramatically. “Please tell me we are! I’ve been needing to get my ass in my clubbing dress for months!”

“Yes, drama queen,” you laugh as you unzip your lunch bag. A bento box, a yogurt cup, and a bottle of Kombucha tea sit inside. “We’re still on. I’ve been needing to shake my ass for the one time, too.”

“And get yourself someone to take back home tonight you watch you shake your ass,” Nemuri adds. You roll your eyes while Mic laughs. “Aw, come ooon, Y/N!” she whines. “You’ll never know the thrill of bringing someone back for a hot night at your place until you try it.”

Nemuri has been trying to get you to try casual sex for the longest time after her plans for being a matchmaker fell through. When you told her you didn’t have a boyfriend during a night out after becoming fast friends, she just about fell out of her chair. “No,” she gasped into her cocktail. “A woman as gorgeous as you? There’s no way! This is a tragedy!”

And because of this “tragedy”, she took it upon herself to try and match you up with other pros she knew.

So far, it’s been All Might, who was very nice but you found you liked as a friend, and Snipe, who was fine as hell behind his mask and amazing in bed, you felt like you were leading him on because of your feelings for another person. Snipe told you he understood but if things never worked out with “the other guy”, he was always there.

What Nemuri didn’t realize is that dating never seemed to work for you. It always ended in casual sex due to you being a cat girl. Most men you’d dated or slept with always seemed to want you for the cat girl they thought you to be…which was usually out of a hentai.

So you steered clear from dating, feeling more than happy being single if it meant not putting up with the BS. Cat girls had a bad rep because of the shit Hollywood thought of for pornos, which meant you had to work ten times harder to get what you wanted. Including being taken seriously in a relationship.

“First of all, that’s against the rules, ‘Muri,” you sigh despite your friend’s pouting. “Nezu is against bringing any outsiders onto campus, especially in our dorms.” Nemuri and Mic glance at each other, knowing damn well they’ve broken that rule many, many times. “And two, you know I’m too busy with work to date.”

“It’s not dating though,” she protests. “It’s sex! Tell her, Mic.” The blonde pro looks between the two of you, bunching on a rice ball.

“I’m not in this,” he mumbles, making you laugh. “And the last time I brought someone to my apartment, I shattered some windows in the entire complex because I was so loud.” Your eyes widen at his confession and he flushes. “He was good, okay?”

Hysterical giggles rise to the surface in your chest, Nemuri laughing with you. “That’s hilarious,” you sigh, wiping at a tear, “and exactly why your idea is a bad one.” You poke Nemuri’s side with a fork. “Besides, you know I don’t want just anyone in my bed.”

As soon as the words are out, you realize your mistake. Your friends stare at you expectantly, leaning in as if desperate to know your deep, dark secrets. “Then who do you want, Y/N?” Nemuri purrs, raising a brow at you.

Mic nods. “Yes, do tell!”

You flush, popping a piece of chicken kara-age from your bento box into your mouth to keep your mouth occupied. They both knew who you were referring to; they just wanted you to say it aloud. The truth was, you could never date just anyone because you already had feelings for another. It was stupid, really. A pathetic, schoolgirl crush because you knew he could never return them.

As if on cue, the man of the hour and your dreams walks into the room, as quiet as a church mouse. He’s so quiet that you jump, your tail fuzzing up, when you see him round the corner wearing his signature jumpsuit and scarves, hands in his pockets. He truly is an attractive man despite his tired eyes–about six foot something, a nice build, black locks of shoulder-length hair that frame his handsome face, and a five o’clock shadow.

When he glances at you as he walks in, it’s so hard to breathe suddenly. No matter how many times he looks at you, it always has the same effect on you. His stares are intense and bothersome; haunting almost. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, suddenly hyperaware of the fact that your skirt rises just above your knees, giving a tiny slip of thigh behind your nylon stockings.

“Aizawa!” Mic exclaims, grinning at his friend as he slinks into the room. “To what do we owe the pleasure of seeing your gorgeous face?”

Aizawa doesn’t spare his friend as much as a glance as he looms over the coffee machine. He grabs one of the Plus Ultra mugs above the sink and takes a pod of the dark roast. “Lunch break,” he blandly replies. “Needed coffee.”

You can’t help but watch his hands as he works to whip himself up a cup. His hands are just so big! And his fingers are so long. You wonder if he plays piano by any chance.

And if one day, he could play you by any chance. Would his hands be calloused and rough from years of hero work? Would they be gentle and careful with you? Would he know how to touch you? Would he be willing to know how practically begging you to show him how to make you feel good?

You can picture him now, his eyes drilling a hole into you as he kneels between your thighs, his fingers plunged deep into your sobbing wet–

“Oh, Shouta!” Nemuri calls, scaring you half to death out of your nasty thoughts. She’s smirking at you while Mic silently laughs beside her. “Will you be attending our nighttime activity after school ends? We’re going to Hot Spot. You know, that one club all the pros go to?”

You flush, knowing what she’s doing. She knows damn well Aizawa isn’t going. He never goes anywhere except when he’s forced to. “Of course, you are,” he mutters, tapping one finger on the counter as he waits for his coffee to finish brewing. “And no, I’m not. Don’t know why this is even a question.”

“Oh, sorry,” Nemuri sarcastically replies. “I forgot you’re anti-social and you hate anything related to socializing or people.”

Aizawa gives her an irritated glance. “Not the reason,” he growls. “It’s because I have better things to do than be in a room with a bunch of drunk people I don’t know. Like grading papers.” Once his coffee is done, he takes the mug along with one packet of sugar. No cream or anything else.

He walks to the door but glances back at his friends before he makes his grand exit. “And I’m not anti-social.”

“Sure, you’re not!” Mic yells to him once he’s gone. He then turns to you and Nemuri with a smirk. “He totally is.”

You smile along with Nemuri’s laugh, but you can’t help the way your body feels from Aizawa’s presence: hot and very, very bothered.

***********

You could burn a hole into someone as you watch Nemuri giggle and charm the man trying to sweet-talk her next to you at your booth.

The man is so obviously eyeing your friend’s cleavage that she flaunts in her dress with the sweetheart neckline. This is the fourth man that’s talked to her tonight since she, you, and Mic arrived at Hot Spot an hour before.

‘Horny bastards,’ you think to yourself, though you can’t help but be jealous.

Why can’t you be more like Nemuri and just be free with your inhibitions like her? She flaunts, flirts, and fucks without care. But then again, everyone wants to fuck Ms. Midnight.

Nobody even knows who you are. And you’d like to keep it that way. Plus, being a cat girl gains you unwanted attention anyway. It’s bad enough you get the occasional weirdo asking you about your tail and if you poop in a litterbox.

Mic, in his Hawaiian shirt, wraps an arm around you. “What are you doing later?” he asks you playfully. You giggle, poking at his chest. “Not you,” you reply wittingly.

“Oh, that’s right!” he recalls, giving you a smirk. His eyes look slightly hooded from the several shots he, you, and Nemuri did. “Because you’d like to be doing my friend right now. And don’t deny it either!”

You say nothing. Instead, you stare down at your hands clamped firmly in the lap of your skinny jeans. You went for a nice sequin top and heels tonight to pair with the jeans that made your ass and thighs look fantastic. You swear Mic and Nemuri told you that at least five times tonight.

Nemuri finally turns around to face you, placing a folded napkin in her bra. “Got a number,” she sings. “Might just give it to you.” She goes to take the napkin out and give it to you, but you push her hand away.

“No,” you protest. “I already told you, Nemuri; not interested in fuckin’ someone I barely know.”

Nemuri puckers her lips at you, giving you a scowl. “Leave her be, ‘Muri,” Mic chuckles, wrapping his arms around the both of you. “You know her heart is set on another.” He and Nemuri begin to pucker their lips at you, moving to kiss your cheeks.

“Cut it out!” you laugh, slapping them away. “I don’t want your drunk ass kisses either!”

“I don’t know why you don’t just talk to the guy, babe,” Mic chuckles, already on his fifth shot of the night. “He’s really not that bad! He’s just extremely shy and doesn’t have that much experience with talkin’ to women. If he happens to meet one, it’s usually just a hookup.”

You wither at his words, silently drinking your cocktail. You don’t want to be just a hookup to Aizawa if you ever manage to get that far with him. But those changes are slim to none since he barely speaks to you. The most you ever get out of him is a “good morning” or a “see you tomorrow”.

You’ve been working at UA for six months now and you barely know anything about him except for the fact that he’s pro-hero Eraserhead, he’s fine as fuck, and all his students love him like a dad, even calling him “Dadzawa” which you think is utterly adorable. You’d love to know what’s underneath that stoic expression and intense eyes, but Aizawa purposely keeps to himself and barely speaks to anyone.

Despite this knowledge, your body still quivers at the memory of those damn eyes setting dead on you. Then you just feel stupid. You know that you and Aizawa could never date. It’s just not in the cards for you right now, with your job as a counselor and your “nightly activity”.

So when is this stupid crush going to end?

“Oh, wow,” Mic suddenly says. He’s on his phone, scrolling through Apple News. “Look at this!” he excitedly says, practically shoving his phone in your face. “Can you believe this shit? Street crime has been down more than 50% in the past few months. More than it's been in the last five years!"

Nemuri glances at you, a knowing smirk on her face. You flush with pride and do your best to bite back a smile as you match Mic’s astonishment. “Wow, them underground pros must be workin’ hard, plus the night patrols.”

As if not wanting you to be blue over this weird ass man the entire night, one of your favorite songs comes on too. You take Nemuri and Mic’s hands in yours. “C’mon’ let’s go dance.”

Nemuri squeals and practically drags you to the dance floor, Mic following close behind you. The music is good tonight, the DJ playing mostly hip hop, transitioning between 90s tunes and modern stuff.

The alcohol you consumed gives you the confidence to dance the night away, your hips swaying and ass bouncing in time with the different beats. You’re well aware you’re catching eyes from many different people out on the floor, pros or not, and it fills you with the sense of confidence and sexiness Nemuri must feel every time she walks out of the house.

As you dance under the strobe lights, sweating out your makeup and braids, you feel like you could take someone home if you wanted to. Who needed Aizawa? He had no idea what he was missing.

That intoxicating feeling doesn’t let up for a moment, even as the night comes to an end hours later. It is about 11 PM when you, Nemuri, and Mic finally depart outside the club. “Thanks for inviting me,” you say, hugging Nemuri. “You sure he’s gonna be okay?”

You nod at a very drunk and sleepy Mic who has his arm slung over Nemuri’s shoulders, his head lulling. “He’ll be fine,” she giggles, wrapping an arm around his waist. “He thinks he’s a steel bull when it comes to shots, this one.”

She laughs at Mic’s light mumbling as he sings the lyrics of a Beyoncé song. “Where are you about to go now?” She asks, shifting her weight in her heels to accommodate Mic’s.

“Where do you think?” You playfully ask, giving her a wink before you begin to strut away from her at the club down the street. “Just be careful!” You hear Nemuri call after you.

You turn to her, seeing her concerned gaze, and you give her a reassuring smile. “Don’t I always?”

You laugh, blowing her a kiss before turning around and strutting away back to UA just as Nemuri and Mic get into the Lyft she called beforehand. But you know you can be faster.

You don’t stop moving until you’re finally behind a nearby building to a jewelry shop. You turn to look in the glass window at the woman staring back at you standing in her leather jacket, skinny jeans, and sequin top. With a slow exhale leaving your nostrils, the reflection of the woman vanishes, now replaced with a teeny, tiny, black cat.

To anyone who was to walk through this alley, all they would see is a stray walking the streets. But only you know the truth.

Though the streets are empty and quiet at this time of night, you can’t be too careful, so you decide to take the rooftops, jumping from one building without a care in the world to the next with your heightened agility and senses.

All sounds of Musutafu at night–the chirping of birds; the drilling machinery of constructing workers in the streets; the honking of traffic; the occasional bark of dogs–drift to your ears, making them twitch. Everything in your sight is ten times as close, even the farthest tree where you can clearly see a couple going at it in the park.

It only takes you ten minutes you get back to UA, faster than Nemuri and Mic. You hurry across campus to the faculty dorms and jump onto the trunk of a nearby cherry blossom tree. Your claws immediately shoot out and stick into the bark, allowing you to climb up the tree with no problem.

You then creep along the long branch that stretches right to the window of your dorm that you keep cracked specifically for you–just enough for you to slide through. When you’re finally inside the clean, dark apartment, you quickly shift back into your human form (clothes still intact) and proceed to hurry to your closet.

You open it, your eyes falling on the black box pushed to the back behind your shoes. Trembling with excitement, you pull the box out and look inside where your hero’s outfit, complete with fingerless gloves, knee-high boots, and a mask, sits inside.

“Hey, baby,” you coo, taking out the mask. It’s simple and black with two cat ears popping out of the top to protect your ears. You slip the mask over your head before putting on the rest of your gear.

The black leather bodysuit stretches across your skin and accentuates the curve of your ass, the fullness of your breasts, and the best parts of your body. Decorated along your front, back, and thighs are silver, glitter-coated slashes to appear like claw tears. You thought that was a cute touch. The back isn’t tight enough on your backside to hurt your tail, but you don’t like it out when you’re fighting. It’s too risky since you know your opponents could pull on it.

The mask covers the top half of your face, making you feel like a stranger as you stand in your mirror, admiring yourself. The knee-high boots are high enough to make you feel sexy, but low enough for you to kick ass or run if need be. But half the time, you’ve got the running thing covered with your cat form.

With a smile on your glossy lips, you admire the sexy woman standing in the mirror in front of you. The Night Claw. Musutafu’s newest and cutest nighttime vigilante. And your alter ego–one that you’ve secretly had for months now after starting UA.

“Time for some trouble,” you purr.

With another inhale, you transform back into your cat form. You stretch, arching your back and yawning, before jumping up on the window and then leaping from the ledge.

You praise yourself when you hit the ground on all fours. Then, with a happy meow and a blink of your yellow eyes, you race out into the night, yowling happily as you do, for another night of excitement.

#aizawa x black!reader #bnha smut #black coded reader #black fanfic writer #smutty smut #my works #here kitty kitty #my fic shit #black writers #shouta aizawa #shoutaaa #shouta aizawa x black!reader

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 year

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I know ramshackle was put in the game more for convenience than anything, but I wonder if the story will ever tell a bit about its past and how it was originally used? if there was someone that represented the dorm like the great seven does with the others or if it was a dorm before nrc became the way it is today? (like maybe the dorms didn't represent one of the 7 at the beginning?)

I'd personally really love to get to know more about Ramshackle dorm! ^^ There's so many fan theories on the topic (and especially about what led to its collapse and who, if any, the dorm is meant to be "representative" of), but each one is wildly different from the last and there doesn't seem to be any consensus in the fandom about it. We don't really know a lot about Ramshackle other than the general idea that it was once considered a dorm, but has since fallen from grace and is no longer recognized as one. What happened to its students? What was the event that led to Ramshackle's current destitute state? There's a lot more to this story that we just aren't seeing yet.

One common misconception I see is that Eliza (the Ghost Bride) claims Ramshackle dorm as part of her fallen kingdom, which may implicate some kind of ghostly or supernatural being as Ramshackle’s figure. However, this is not actually true. Eliza does come from a fallen kingdom AND she uses Ramshackle dorm as her base of operations—but the two are not directly connected. Crowley sites that Eliza chooses to use Ramshackle every year on her hunt for her prince “out of all the decrepit, abandoned dwellings in this world”. This implies Eliza could literally pick any place, but happened to pick Ramshackle (most likely to kick off the event story, and/or because it’s implied Ramshackle is an attractive dwelling place for ghosts, hence in part why the Ramshackle ghosts haunt it).

I also wonder??? If Ramshackle was even modeled after a particular "figure" to begin with? I really do not get those vibes at all; there is no particularly noteworthy iconography that would tie it down to one very "clear cut" classic villain (assuming it is one, like the others in the G7). Why would Ramshackle be the only "abnormal" dorm??? And speaking of the G7??? I find it odd that no one ever makes reference to a figure like them for Ramshackle. It's not like any character ever says there's a "G8"??? Or even speaks of a figure of equal greatness to them outside of the G7 (similar to the Just Judge at Noble Bell College). Like, even if Ramshackle itself is no longer relevant, that doesn't mean a historical figure linked to Ramshackle would be irrelevant too. Their deeds and accomplishments still exist. You'd think that would be important to bring up, even off handedly or in a vague mention. (Or is this a part of the “history can be erased an manipulated” stuff Lilia brought up??)

In canon, Pomefiore is said to be the oldest dorm (so unless there are extenuating circumstances, I don't think Ramshackle existed in a dormitory capacity until after at least Pomefiore was a thing). The wording can also imply that the other dorms came after (ie Pomefiore was established first, or the dorm system itself came much later). It's also interesting to note that, unlike the other dorms, Ramshackle does not exist in its own pocket dimension, but rather on the same main campus plot of land that houses NRC's other facilities. I wonder if this detail is actually historically significant somehow.

I really hope that some of these questions (if not all of them) will be answered in the future 😅 I feel like they are very important for world-building and shouldn't be left to the boring explanation of "well, it's the player/plot convenience, so..."

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #notes from the writing raven #Eliza #Ghost Bride #Lilia Vanrouge #Dire Crowley

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redgoldsparks · 2 months

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July reading and reviews by Maia Kobabe

I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon. Reviews below the cut.

Practical Anarchism: A Guide For Daily Life by Shuli Branson

I picked this up after listening to the author's excellent interview on Gender Reveal. I'd never read an explanation of anarchy before and found this one accessible, intersectional, and rich with references to follow up on. Branson's basic argument is for recognizing that the state exists only to perpetuate its own power, and aids citizens only incidentally and when doing so doesn't conflict with maintaining control. In light of this, citizens should seek to gain as much freedom in daily life as they can by supporting community and mutual aid, by refusing hustle culture and separating self-worth from productivity, by spending as much time as they can on things that bring pleasure, joy, peace, and stealing from corporate workplaces among other things. Many sections of this book I found myself simply agreeing with, while other chapters (especially the sections on Work and Art) really challenged a lot of my internalized beliefs. I'm very glad I read this and imagine I will return to it in the future, especially when I'm able to read more on this topic.

How I Attended An All-Guy’s Mixer vols 1-6 by Nana Aokawa (fan translated)

College students Tokiwa, Asagi, and Hagi are invited to a mixer with some college girls, but when they arrive they are greeted by three handsome boys at their reserved table. It turns out the girls they planned to meet at all work at a cross-dressing bar! Suo is a devastatingly charming and confident prince; Kohaku has a prickly exterior but a soft, shy interior; and Fuji draws smutty fan comics in her free time and is constantly on the lookout for new models. This goofy premise turns into a very sweet and funny slice of life comic as three couples with very different dynamics begin to develop. Sadly, I cannot find these books available in English so I am reading them at a sketchy online site, lol. I hope they get translated at some point because I've been completely sucked in and read four volumes in like 24 hours :3

Barda by Ngozi Ukazu

Barda is the captain of a soldier unit from a torture/hell world called Apokolips. Her backstory includes being kidnapped as a child and tortured into serving as the perfect weapon in a very black and white interplanetary war. Her torturer is an old woman named Granny Goodness. They work for a classic evil emperor named Darkseid, who has the son of his major enemy locked in his dungeons. At the beginning of the book, Barda is told to investigate how this guy, named Scott Free, keeps managing to almost escape. This is challenging material to make something out of. It feels so ridiculous, so campy, so over the top, I had a hard time taking the premise seriously- especially as this torture world has to obey PG-13 movie rules about not showing any blood or actual human mutilation. All that being said, I think Ukazu wrote about the best modern take as you possible could with these characters. The writing is quippy, smart, empathetic; I enjoyed the page layouts, color palette choices, and the emotional arc she takes Big Barda on through the book, even though I wanted it to go a little farther at the end.

We Deserve Monuments by Jas Hammonds

Avery is a queer biracial teen, uprooted from her DC home just before senior year of high school by a family emergency which relocates her and her parents to Bardell, Georgia. Avery's grandmother, Mama Letty, has cancer and the prognosis isn't good. Avery is also fresh from a breakup with her first ever girlfriend. Her early years of high school were ruined by Covid, and she doesn't want to waste her last year as well in a back-woods town. But despite herself, Avery is drawn towards the people of Bardell and the ways she learns their histories tangle with her own. There's Carol, the woman next door, who was Avery's mom's best friend in high school but who know barely speaks to her. There's Carol's daughter, Simone, whose colorful locs catch Avery's eyes immediately. There's Jade, Simone's best friend at school whose family is linked to more than one tragedy in the town's history. And there's Mama Letty herself, who Avery wants to get to know, but time is running out. I read this book in just under a week while on vacation and really enjoyed it! It felt refreshingly grounded and real after some of the YA I've tried and DNFed recently.

Yotsuba vol 10 by Kiyohiko Azuma

Utterly charmed by the entire chapter that's just Yotsuba learning how to cook pancakes. What a good reminder that fine motor control is a learned skill! I also liked how Yotsuba's dad handled a lie about some broken dishes. This is such a great series.

Sunhead by Alex Assan

In Tel Aviv, teenage Rotem spends her free time hanging out with friends and obsessively re-reading her favorite book, Sunrise, a vampire romance. She doesn't know anyone else into the series and has to wait for the next book to come out in Hebrew. But she does meet another reader, Ayala, who sits out of gym class every single week, sometimes with a Jane Austin novel. Rotem lends Ayala the vampire book and suddenly she has a fandom friend. This book very delicately, and at times wordlessly, explores the way a fictional story can act as a lens for teen questioning of gender and sexuality. The book feels almost memoir like with its groundedness in very real teen emotions and relative lack of external conflict. It's a simple story but beautifully illustrated and relatable.

Witch Hat Atelier vol 12 by Kamome Shirahama

This is an action packed volume that sticks more closely to Coco, which is what I want out of the series. I'm still frustrated by the overload of new characters who I'm struggling to keep tract of. But the art is so stunning I'll probably keep reading.

Otonari Complex vol 1 by Saku Nonomura (fan translated)

Akira is a tall tomboy who befriended a shorter, prettier boy named Makoto in elementary school. In college, they are still inseparable, and many people mistake them for a straight couple- though usually they think Akira is the boy and Makoto the girl. Makoto only adds to this confusion by frequently cross-dressing. I enjoyed the friendship and gender mix-ups, but I don't love how every single secondary character either wants to date one of the two leads, or whats to separate the two leads because their close friendship might prevent them from dating in the future. Get out of their business, randos! They are clearly on a very slow friends to lovers arc, leave them alone to figure out their shit.

Lavender House by Lev AC Rosen read by Vikras Adam

At the start of this book, in 1959, Andy Mills is at rock bottom. The former San Francisco cop was fired after being discovered in flagrante with another man at a gay bar. He is seriously considering suicide because he can't see any other options. Then a well dressed older woman, Pearl, sweeps into his life and asks him to solve a weeks old murder that occurred on her private Marin estate. Pearl is a lesbian and widow; her wife was the owner of a well known floral soap company and she died under mysterious circumstances. Pearl was unable to call in the police at the time because nearly everyone who lives on the soap flower farm estate is queer. A small group of biological and found family has made a safe, gated community for themselves- safe, that is, until one woman fell to her death from a second floor balcony. Andy isn't too hopeful about solving a case with little to no evidence, but he gives it a try, and he is blown away by seeing multiple queer couples living opening together in the same household. This was a solid story, though it didn't have that magic spark that sometimes captures me in murder mysteries. I was all ready to say I probably wouldn't continue the series, and then a 15 minute sample of the second book played after the end of the first in the audiobook. The second one already sounds MUCH more fascinating than the first, in part because Andy starts the sequel in touch with an intriguing queer community and setting up a new PI business. So I might try the next book after all!

Mabel McKay: Weaving the Dream by Greg Sarris

A wonderful, lively memoir of Pomo basket weaver and medicine woman Mabel McKay, as written by Greg Sarris, who knew her for most of his life until she passed in the early 1990s. Sarris is currently the chairman of the Federated Indians of Graton Rancheria based in Sonoma County which serves the local Pomo and Miwok populations. Sarris is very much also a character in this story, which lays out many conversations had on long car rides up and down the California coast, while Sarris drove McKay to give talks at universities and museums or to visit her relatives. The story is non chronological but still immersive, telling of McKay's childhood, her early years doctoring and making baskets, and her life-changing friendship with Essie Parrish, another basket weaver and important figure in Sonoma county. I'd highly recommend this book, especially to anyone interested in West Coast history, and very especially if you grew up in California.

#maia kobabe #book reviews #reading #books #comics

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anli-rambles · 15 days

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So I just replayed the "The Foam and the Flames" memory from Sequence 9 and after comparing it to the way it was recalled in Forsaken, I finally figured out why the Forsaken version never sat well with me.

I always refused to believe Haytham knew about Ziio's death by then. His reactions felt way too genuine; Haytham may have been trained to lie but he's still a horrible actor, you can see how he can't play up the "I'm clueless" bit for shit when he tries to pretend he just found out about Washington's plan to attack Connor's village later in the game. That little "what" WAS NOT HIM PLAYING DUMB. I REFUSE TO BELIEVE IT IS.

THAT'S WHY BOWDEN SHIFTED THE FUCKING DIALOGUE IN THE BOOK. HE KNEW WHAT HE WAS DOING.

Cuz like, in the game, Haytham's shocked little "what" comes right after Connor tells him Ziio is dead. In Forsaken, it comes after Connor adds that it was done by Haytham's men. And that small little switch around CHANGES BASICALLY EVERYTHING ABOUT THAT CONVERSATION.

Also, Haytham sounds way too panicked when he tries to convince Connor he wasn't at fault. Bowden tries to claim it was a calculated move on Haytham's part but it absolutely fucking wasn't, please, the man is STRUGGLING to keep calm and trying so hard to prove to Connor that it couldn't have been him because he'd abandoned the search for the precursor site and gets more agitated with every word.

JUST LOOK AT THE DIFFERENCE.

When I played the game, I always assumed that this was the moment Haytham found out about Ziio's death. It made sense to me that he wouldn't know since he'd completely lost contact with her — if he'd been keeping tabs he would've known Connor was his son from the moment he was born. And he would've killed Washington himself long ago. We all know Haytham isn't above killing people to avenge family.

The Templars also didn't know where Ziio's village was located, that was the whole point of Lee beating up Connor so he would reveal its location, so Haytham had no way to know how she was doing all those years.

No, I think this is where he learned about it, and before leaving with Connor to Martinique, he told his spies to investigate what happened that night. I always assumed that this was the thing he was talking about with that random mercenary at the beginning of the next sequence.

Anyways. I'll never forgive Bowden for this. He can meet me in the Walmart parking lot istg

#connor kenway #haytham kenway #ac3 #ac forsaken

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lelengerine · 11 months

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helloo! for the drabble event, could u do a celebrities + soulmates au for renjun pls? thank u 🌟

oh to see you

pairing | actor!renjun x actor!reader

genre | celebrity + soulmates au, it’s implied the reader is female for this one ;0; renjun’s a little grumpy in the beginning, do lmk if i missed anything!

wc | 0.9k

notes | thank u sm sm for requesting this, i was so excited to write this one as soon as i saw it in my inbox because i haven't tried writing something like this yet (kinda) ;0; likes, rbs, and feedback are always appreciated !!

this is part of my drabble req event here!

m.list

for once in his entire acting career, huang renjun is left stunned as he reads through the stack of papers detailing his role in an upcoming drama.

he had always resonated with the characters he was assigned to, having a good feel of them before filming even began, yet he can’t seem to wrap his head around this specific one.

his company decided for him to play as a smitten college student, desperately pining over a girl in his year level after figuring out they were soulmates.

it didn’t make sense to him. the character was acting that way simply because they were soulmates and nothing more? what even was the point of love then?

he would never admit it himself, but he was a romanticist who preferred carefully thought out acts of love over fleeting bursts of affection. though, who was he to argue seeing as the drama was well received by the public when news of it first hit the headlines.

but don’t get him wrong, the idea of soulmates was a concept he was more than familiar with. it wasn’t surprising to hear about it in the first place, especially when the world he lived in was full of it — red strings of fate, matching tattoos, special birthmarks, he’s seen it all, but stubbornly refuses to accept it in its truth.

perhaps it's because he believed having a soulmate himself was highly unlikely.

he still remembers the stories he’d hear when he was younger about his cousins finding ‘the one’ — a person they shared a special bond with that no one else could replicate. it was then he tried looking for anything that could signify he had one of his own, but to no avail.

the memory still sits bitterly in his mind, yet he finds himself standing in front of the film site, unable to deny the proposal of the director. this was still work, after all.

you’re inside a trailer in the same set, sitting in a pile of jittery nerves as your make-up artist does their best to make you look presentable on camera.

you had stayed up a bit too much rereading your script over and over again, time passing through your fingertips before you even knew it. dark circles lay under your eyes, but you still think your efforts were worth it. this was your first major appearance in a drama as one of the main leads, a crucial moment in your career to make yourself known.

you couldn’t let something as precious as that slip away.

“you’re done here, i better see you getting a good night’s worth of rest after this!” your make up artist jests, making you laugh along with them.

a smile makes its way up your lips as you stand up from the seat, “what would i do without you? though, i’ll be off now!”

with a small wave, you bid them a goodbye, opening the door to find yourself face-to-face with someone who was so effortlessly serene, it kind of intimidated you. “ah- i’m sorry, were you coming in for make up?”

you notice he looks rather familiar, plush lips parted ever so slightly, and eyes twinkling with a shade of pink as he stares at you. his gaze was mesmerizing, a little too much that it brings out your bashfulness, pursing your lips together before deciding to speak again. “hello? did you come here for your make up?”

“huh- oh, yeah.” he quickly transfers his line of sight to his feet, his heart beating like he just ran a 10 meter marathon. he’s never seen you around as one of the make up artists, so who exactly were you?

“my name is y/n.” you begin speaking as if you read his mind, “i’m one of the leads for this drama. it’s nice to meet you…?”

and suddenly his world clicks into place. you were going to be his partner for the drama- ‘snap out of it’, he grumbles to himself, causing you to give him a confused look.

“sorry?” you ask, hoping he could repeat what he just said because you weren’t able to catch it.

“no, it’s nothing. i apologize.” he states softly, “my name is huang renjun. i look forward to working with you.” he’s smiling now, the sparkles in his eyes now glowing a bright yellow, and your cheeks start warming up. did everyone’s eyes normally look like this?

“i- i look forward to working with you too.” you turn away to give room for your flustered expression, “um, you should get ready now. i’ll leave you be.”

your polite words disappointingly leave him with no reason to refuse. it was a shame, he wanted to talk to you more… wait, what? just what was going on in his mind?

“yeah, okay, thanks.” his replies hurriedly, not at all in the way he hoped for, but it somehow just came out in that manner. “i’ll see you later for shooting?”

“yeah.” you smile for the first time and renjun finally sees the same kind of sparkle that floats in the depths of your irises as his, leaving him just as enthralled as you were moments ago. “i’ll be on my way then.”

the two of you now stand on opposite sides of the trailer’s door, and while you’re wondering how you’re going to properly dictate the lines you practiced while looking at him, renjun’s come to the revelation that there might just be a soulmate for him out there — or rather right outside this very trailer van.

perhaps he’s just understood the desperation of his character’s lovesickness because he wants to open the door once more and rush out to look for you — you who he hopes is the soulmate he has been silently yearning for his entire life.

#lelengerine drabble event #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct angst #nct dream angst #renjun fluff #renjun angst #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct dream imagines #nct dream drabbles

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lesfir · 5 months

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Astarion past of corrupt Magistrate

A bud that didn't bear fruit, not one that was cut off.

There was no time to realised in the game that Astarion was a very, very bad, corrupt elf in power. The beginning of the story hasn't been rewritten, the key idea remains - for April 2024.

I have a couple words and sources for it. The latter I found recently, and it has a story of its own. Sources from Larian's internal kitchen is extracted by hacker methods.

Let's start with just that In the fall of 2023, the Larian Discord leaks happened. Leaks of Welch chat, Larian's narrative designer (in the past), and co-writer of some scenes with Astarion. As of April 2024, the narrative designer of the romances. You can read about their unprofessional acts here. For me, it also plays a role that it's not even their character, it was worked on long before them, another author and creator. So that kind of statement who understood what about the character is so... ridiculous.

And the question arises why we should trust the word of a very unprofessional person? That's right. Because: 1. These are not their personal words, interpretations and "I feel like". It says what Larian was planned for Astarion's story, but didn't have time to show. 2. Welch came to work at Larian well after Early Access. This backstory of Astarion was already told before Larian hired Welch.

The other few sources that tell of Astarion's backstory. Their sequence and nuances are also important.

1 - Info from the publication VICE The year is 2020, February 28. First presentation of the Baldur's Gate game by the hands of Swen Vincke. Astarion already Astarion as he is, white hair, fangs, a vampire spawn. (no horns and no tail) I watched it all and dont find that Swen is no information about Astarion's past. I don't think the publication is running a fake. So I'm assuming this is a site exclusive-lure about the key points plot of the game.

„A disgraced nobleman who used his position as a local magistrate to serve a vampire clan by feeding them prisoners, he was eventually too corrupt even for them and was effectively sent to serve as the personal slave of a powerful vampire”

I haven't seen it abandoned. After a while, the artbook confirms corrupt-taste for power-past.

So, a person who has been following the story closely notices that some of the information is incomplete. However, " feeding them prisoners" could very well be a plot twist for new playrs, and it should be left out in the exclusive. All the more reason: • Corrupted elite - used his position of magistrate • Taste for power. Desires, eternal life - for luxury, influence, eternal beauty, more power, vampires. • How vampires came to be? Why do vampires need a magistrate? - prisoners, it's easy to take outcasts for food. They also didn't forget to mention decadence. There is no reason for a person to think that a key moment in history has gone away.

2 - Artbook I found the first mention in winter 2022 (edit if I find it earlier) Baldurs Gate 3 Collectors Edition Pre-order for the physical collection, including artbook $269.99 Next February 2023. It mentioned that BG3 Digital Deluxe Edition will be available to Early Access buyers. With this artbook. That is, the information passed from edition to edition. Weird, giving irrelevant information that will confuse you for free! Yet you have to pay for the physical irrelevant information, 270 bucks. Did Larian give any warning about this? 270 for non-canon. Enjoy the game.

Astarion. Decadent and Dangerous Two hundred years ago, Astarion was a corrupt elite of Baldur’s Gate with a taste for power and a hunger for eternal life.

3 - unprofessional employee revealed the internal workings of the kitchen and what Larian, as an entire company - that's Astarion's author, Stephen Rooney, actors, animators - didn't have time for previously mentioned Astarion backstory. Confirmation of what was already known.

escuisi: I've been thinking about how in act 1 there seems to be a setup for more info on the gur incident/cazador conveniently being there to turn him but then theres no reference to it later on? Like, Astarion's all mysterious about it in a way that clearly implies he did something shitty we would find out later ("they had taken issue with a ruling i had made") but its never expanded.

Baudelaire Welch (larian): lol I did want to more fully explore the 'ACAB * definitely * applies to Astarion' angle but there wasn't really time for it.

The concept of "learning not to be racist" I am a building is shot down, probably by other writers. Not copstarion, that predates Welch. Of course. It would have taken two more acts - just an understanding. Overall it would still look... cheap and strained. The only evil male companion in this game. Astarion is about the darker sides of humanity, balance of fun and darkness. He must be asshole about something. The recent "I'm sure" posts are already more of a personal piece. Doesn't invalidate the information gained, which is verified by past sources.

Headcanon is a fan fiction that never hasn't been mentioned in any way in the media. Which there is no basis for, fiction. Like the dark-haired Astarion, mortal eye colour, for example.

The entire 1st act is precisely done and presented in 2020 with Astarion's backstory - all his approvals, reactions, all the lines. 2022 winter - pre-order of the physical edition with this artbook is open. The artbook that is promised as a gift to players by EA in February 2023 half-year before the release in August 2023 also confirms and includes information about the corrupt past. Approvals, most reactions, some of which are remade in PAD format, but not cut remain in the August 2023 release. The game gives hints and later coquettishly silent. Nothing logically erases this backstory of Astarion in the game And then in autumn 2023 there is a leak where it turns out that there was not enough time for Astarion's backstory.

The artbook is the grail. It always has been in my case in any fandom. In an artbook, every word is very precious. These are the key ideas author for the reasoning of the story. Maybe it's not the fans, but the way Larian treats the information he's given for thought. I find their pitching a clumsy. -- wasn't enough time to do -- abandoned the idea and cut it out are different things. If the wording was: we didn't have time, so we cut off, so this story is no longer relevant - then yes. Now it's: we didn't have really time to fully explore (emphasized the other part, this part was left unrevealed). For me, this story of Astarion levitates in the air, not gone, but not realized either.

There's nothing in the game plot that contradicts that Astarion's past was exactly that. Astarion would never say he was a corrupt arsehole when he wants Tav to help him, though with his barbarians, "raising the dead is easier than catching slaves, don't care slaves or building material", luxury, wealth and power that Astarion remembers in the his original, "mercy, please", vagabonds... Vice versa. It's all coming together.

That's the puzzle. Judge for yourself. Because the main thing that's missing: definiteness. For me, zero reasons to rate that this backstory is burned at the time of the release of the Bladur's Gate 3 game and for April 2024. It's would be hidden as a secret inside the story. A bud that didn't bear fruit, not one that was cut off.

Now Larian is doing a new artbook I really hope the situation is at least clarified. Stephen Rooney has left Larian, he said that in the spring of 2024, so it was always going to be an issue now. Unless of course they do CTRL+C CTRL+V.

Here.

#astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate 3 #Magistrate Astarion #larian critical #bg3 critical #BG3 Early Access #my analysis

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