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lostinforestbound · 2 days

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It's here after many weeks, the 10k one-shot to celebrate 200 followers, but I suppose it's also to celebrate 300 followers as well! I meant for 300 to be a different celebration but that's okay! I'm sure I'll make something else for the next milestone!

Requested Tags: @dutifullylazybread @heytheresunflower @barbwillbrb

Rolan/GN!Tav

I Shouldn't Love You Like You Are Mine

Rolan has too much to do with so little time. Becoming the new Master of Ramazith's tower is proving more complicated than the wizard have ever thought. On top of it all, he has a deep infatuation with Tav, the hero who saved him and his family many times. He knows he has no chance with them, so he has settled on hopelessly pining and dreaming. One day, Tav rushes into the shop in a panic, and he could have never in his wildest fantasies expect what they request of him.

Word Count: 10k (Don't like Tumblr? Read on AO3 instead!)

Relevant Tags: Rolan's POV, Makeout Diversion, Smut, Lorroakan Bashing

Beta Reader: @el-tur-el (Thank you so much for your help T!!!)

NSFW under cut, Minors DNI

The air is stale, the scent of electricity still strong in the space that surrounds him, the taste of blood on his tongue from when his sharp teeth gashed the inside of his mouth. He's sore, bruised, burned, somewhat electrocuted by the way some of his muscles spasm still, but he's alive. Tav is long gone with their companions, and all that is left is him and a dead man.

When staring down at the body of his spine-broken master, Rolan is not sure of how he's supposed to feel. At first, he felt a genuine joy that he had not felt in many years. The adrenaline was still high at the time, and he proudly remarked that he would turn the tower inside out to find its secrets and share them with the world. He always has been ambitious, that is what got him this far, after all. Tav seems happy for him, and he ignores how it made his heart pound even more.

As he stands alone in the room, he questions whether he's supposed to feel something now that the joy has faded within the span of minutes. Some kind of liberation? Or perhaps his emotions are fighting each other in his psyche, making him feel everything and nothing all at once. The man who tortured him, who beat him like he was a misbehaving dog he didn't even want, who refused to teach him anything about wielding the weave, lays dead by his feet. He can't help but think that he looks pathetic now, face twisted in permanent fear even after death.

He spits on his face as a final 'fuck you'. He hopes he rots in the deepest pits of the hells that he was once dragged to.

Running his stiff hands down his face, he tries to think of what to do first. He has to get rid of this body, it can't stay here lying around. It will decay and stink more than Lorroakan already has. Grabbing a fistful of the dead man's hair, he drags his body towards the balcony. He could throw his body over the railing, it would be insult to injury, but no. He will do something much worse.

He digs into the stray backpack at the edge of the railing and takes out a disintegration scroll, one that he knew Lorroakan hid out here as a backup plan in case a fight doesn't go his way. Without thinking too much on it, he casts the spell on the body, and Lorroakan disappears into ash.

His former teacher was now erased, made into nothing, and no one will remember or miss him. A fate worse than death, in Rolan's opinion.

Almost numbly, he heads back inside the main room and tries to find cleaning supplies. There's so much blood on the floor, and it did not help he made a trail while dragging the body. He wishes Tav was still here so he could demand they clean their mess up, where he wouldn't notice his tail flicking back and forth in irritation. Would they bother listening to him? Maybe not, but at least they would be there, just a little longer. Just enough time for him to pine once more.

Lia is right, he's a very selfish creature.

A couple of mage hands bring a bucket of water and an unused mop over. He is taken aback, as he thought they would have disappeared in Lorroakan's absence. Although, these could have been Ramazith's, wherever that wizard is now. It doesn't matter, either way. They're his now.

He dunks the mop into the water and starts swiping across the floor, noticing how as he cleans, the white cloth of the strands turn red. There's so much godsdamned blood, it will take him forever to clear the mess. There's a lot of blood on him, too. Specks and splatters of blood paint his hands crimson, long dried onto his red skin. His mentor's blood. Lorroakan's blood.

He helped murder a man, today. He killed someone. His blood is on his hands as much as it may be on the Nightsong's. Or Tav's.

An unsuspected shudder runs through his body, and he feels sick. He chalks it up to his adrenaline rush going down too quickly, ignoring the feeling as he swipes the mop across the floor.

The hairs on his neck stand on end as he feels the crackle of the weave, warning him someone is coming through the portal. Part of him hopes it would be Tav; he wants to talk to them again. Maybe they can help him with the cleanup, laughing about how they left him here without realizing it. He would stumble over his words like a fool, trying to be impressive in his pathetic state.

It's not Tav that arrives though, he recognizes Lia's quick footsteps anywhere. She's always been the fastest between him and Cal; they both could never beat her in a race, but he swears he lets her win.

"Rolan!" She shouts, quickly coming up to him along with Cal, whose heavier footsteps are right behind hers. "Finally! You kept talking up this tower and now we get to see it-"

"Wait, is that blood?" Cal immediately interrupts, face falling.

He must look horrendous, Rolan realizes. He got so busy cleaning the floor that he didn't even bother washing up first. Based on when he looked at himself that morning, the bruises should still be very prominent. Shit.

Lia bristles when she cups his face, looking at his injuries. "What is this?"

The silence that falls between them is telling. He knows she figured it out a long time ago, but she wants to hear him say it. "I'm fine, Lia. He was a horrible mentor, but it's not my blood on the ground."

"Tav told us they helped you kick his ass." Cal comments, trying to lighten their moods, "Looks like you did just that if this blood isn't yours."

"You should've killed him earlier, idiot!" She spits.

"I know, I know." He mutters, trying to speak even as Lia turns his face around to see the damage. "It's good to see you two."

"We missed you, brother," Cal says, gently moving Lia away and hugging him. "Please don't do that again. It was hard, without you."

Rolan lets out a sigh he didn't know he was holding, hugging Cal tightly. Lia joins in quickly after. When was the last time they held each other like this? He doesn't remember.

It feels nice.

While it doesn't last long, it is more than satisfactory for him. They help him with the clean up, Lia helping with the blood while Cal sweeps the floor with a broom. They take on more workload than Rolan wants, but he can't argue with them when they practically plead for him to rest. To be honest, he's unbelievably sore, and maybe sitting down for a bit wouldn't hurt.

It only takes his body a few minutes until it's antsy again, so he joins them quickly after.

And then he never stops moving.

He cleans, reorganizes, and keeps walking despite his beaten body screaming at him to stop. He can't stop, because if he does, he knows he will not want to get back up. He'll crash, and he can't afford that.

At the end of it all, he enters Lorroakan's room without thinking and is frozen in place. He's been in here before, but never for good reasons, only beatings. Is this not his room now that the original master is gone? But it reeks of his old mentors stench. He scrunches his nose as he looks at all the personalized decorations. They're hideous, all of the colors too bright to stare at, and most not matching with each other in terms of palette. There's not even a real theme and it makes him irate.

He remembers being beaten on this very floor for messing up a verbal component.

Enraged, he marches up to the bed and tears off the sheets, making a point to dig his claws into them so they would rip. The pillows are next, tossing them across the room and onto the floor. He'll need to replace every damn thing if he wants to use this bed. To use this room.

Unwanted memories start to flood into his mind as he tears the place apart, most of them being on the ground, where Lorroakan said he belonged. Beaten, burned, electrocuted, sometimes poisoned. A place where he was at his most pathetic. He often has nightmares about those late nights, but some of the worst ones were Tav walking in and seeing him like that, utterly broken on floor. They would never see him the same, and he doesn't know whether he prefers them to be disgusted by him or to feel pity.

He's close to a breakdown, having trouble getting air into his lungs before Cal and Lia comes in. "Rolan?"

With a slow sigh, he turns to look at them. "Why are you two up?"

Lia's eyes trail around the destroyed room, seeming to note the claw marks on the bed sheets discarded on the carpet. "Couldn't sleep." She says simply, giving a knowing look.

"Can we sleep with you?" Cal asks, rubbing the back of his neck, "Like when we were kids? Just for one night."

His jaw moves to start a pointless argument, but then snaps shut. They're both not children anymore, they can sleep by themselves. He can sleep by himself. However, he cannot deny that he craves the affection it would bring. He hasn't been this long without them, no matter how much he complained about them being clingy before.

"All right." He says quietly after taking a deep breath, "Not in here, though. Come."

He quietly leads them to the comparatively bland room Lorroakan gave him in Sorcerous Sundries. It isn't terrible, but he realizes that the bed is way too small for the three of them. Thankfully, he had a remedy. He adjusts an enlarge spell and makes the bed wider, and they all settle down on top of it easily.

Lia makes him stay in the middle while she settles on his right side, Cal climbing over carefully to lay on his left. Honestly, he misses having them so close.

"Rolan?" Cal speaks up as Lia pulls up the blanket.

"Hm?"

"Can you make a light show for a little bit?"

Rolan can't help but smile, slowly closing his eyes before opening them up again and raising his hands. "Any requests?"

"Make it look like flowers blooming." Lia says instantly, draping an arm around his middle.

He huffs before murmuring a few words, a burst of colors appearing in the air. Like asked, they take form of flowers blooming, petals falling near them gently. It's gorgeous.

It fades after a minute though, the exhaustion finally catching up to him as he falls asleep. If Cal and Lia were bothered by it not lasting, they don’t say a word.

For the first time in years, his night is not plagued by nightmares.

---

As soon as he wakes, Rolan does not stop moving.

He's the new master of Ramazith's tower, there is so much to do with so little time. The Absolute's army is on its way and he needs to gather everything he can to protect his siblings, and to protect Tav.

Tav doesn't need protecting, he knows that all too well, but he needs to do something. Anything at all. He needs to prepare the arcane cannon, but there is so much research to be done. On top of it all, he wants to be able to focus on his studies, but then run a shop at the same time.

He barely eats the toasted bread he haphazardly made for himself, too distracted by the logs Lorroakan left behind. There's so many customers he needs to take care of, including deliveries. Maybe he could repurpose the animated armor to make the deliveries, but that could be shaky as they're unstable. Well, Lorroakan's magic was always weakly done...he could rework the sigils. He'll have to rework everything in this place, actually.

Gods, everything is such a fucking mess. He knows he needs help, but respectfully, he wants everything a certain way and his siblings won't be able to give him what he wants. Tav would be able to understand-

He stops reading, surprising himself with his thought. Tav? Why would he think Tav would know how he likes things? It's ridiculous. But he can imagine it, them carrying books around with whatever means and placing them in alphabetical order, then by subject. They would tease him about being so stingy with what books go where on the bookshelf.

And they would laugh. Not quite at him, but laugh nonetheless. It's such a perfect sound in his ears, and the thought of it makes the tip of his tail flick about. Damn it all!

He's been thinking about them a lot, unfortunately. Ever since the Shadow Cursed Lands, where they succeeded in saving his siblings where he could not, an infatuation began to settle in his heart. He had half the mind to possibly confess, but immediately pushed it out of his mind. There was no possible way they would feel the same. He's too bitter, too arrogant, and he saw the way they looked at Gale, someone who is much more accomplished than he is. It is a fondness that he never received once in his life, and certainly not by them. He was jealous of it, but jealousy is an ugly little trait to have, so he gave up on dwelling.

The feelings never went away, no matter how much he wants them too.

He wants to say more to them, especially after they saved his sorry tail again during the fight up in the tower. They left before he could, he was too dazed staring at the mess the Nightsong made of his former master. He regrets being too out of it to say anything proper.

What would he have told them anyways? He doubts anything worthwhile. Probably a weak apology and an even weaker attempt to express his feelings. In the end, they would reject him, no doubt. He messed up too many times, back in the Shadow Cursed Lands, even if they accepted his apology for lashing out.

So he continues on and tries to forget, organizing the scrolls at the front counter of Sorcerous Sundries. His nose scrunches in irritation at the disorganization of it all. Was Lorroakan always like this? They aren't even categorized in the right sections, its horrendous. Diabolical. A sin on this shop.

Frustration straining his brow, he lays them flat on the counter to decipher where they should go, ignoring the ache that sits subtly in his bones. He hasn't had the chance to heal himself, so the bruises are still very prominent. It doesn't matter, he can take care of it later.

He knows deep in his heart that later will never come.

In the middle of his thought, one of the front doors burst open. Someone runs in and...well, he doesn't recognize them, but he does see the illusion aura that surrounds their figure. He's about to yell at them about their audacity, but their disguise instantly fades when they close.

It's Tav, in all of their wonderful glory.

"Tav?" He asks dumbly as they rush the to the counter.

They urgently hop over the counter and grab his wrist, and he actively has to suppress a wince by the force. "I need help. Hurry!"

Without a chance of responding, they drag him along towards one of the rooms along the side of the shop. They practically throw him in there.

The door slam briefly echoes in the room, and he barely has time to react before the back of his thighs meet the desk inside. He hisses, the bruises still fresh, “What in the hells are you doing?”

“I need a diversion. I was disguised but the Flaming Fist followed me.” They state, starting to open up the front of their tunic to make a mess. “Let me kiss you.”

He hates how the tip of his tail stands at attention, and thank the gods they don’t notice it. “What.”

“We’re kissing. Now. Just-“ They groan, loosening their shirt more to make themselves look like a mess. “-I need to make it look like I was busy. Rolan, please?”

He should say no. Everything is screaming at him to say no. But he is a weak man, and he’s dreamed that he could have them in his arms. Or be in their arms, it didn’t matter to him.

As soon as he gives a nod, they grab the front of his collar and pull him in, kiss searing. It takes everything in his being not to moan at the contact, especially when they loosen his hair properly to make it fall past his ears. They don’t touch them, much to his relief.

Pretending to put on the same act as them, he presses into them enthusiastically, letting their tongue in when it pries at his teeth. He fell out of control so quickly that he doesn’t know how to pick himself back up. He had half the mind to let them have their way with him. Blood rushes down south when their hand slides up his clothed stomach, sweat beading on the back of his neck as the muscles tense and quiver. Their touch was firm, demanding, and the voice in his head screams at him to not deny them for a moment. How long has he been waiting for something like this to happen?

Before he could panic about his dick twitching in interest at their ministrations, the door flies open. It startles Tav enough to where they bite his lip on accident, making him jolt.

A group of Flaming Fist freeze at the door, taking in the scene before them.

Rolan reacts quickly with his typical sneer, sitting up straighter and trying to ignore Tav being between his legs. “Do you mind?”

“Well, sir-“ One starts but the other, a commander most likely, cuts them off.

“There’s a suspected thief that we believe ran into here.”

“So you decided to almost break down one of my doors?” He questions, making a show of magic to fix his hair up. Tav moves away with their arms crossed in front of their chest, looking annoyed.

“We apologize, sir, but this thief is-“

"Excuse me?" Tav states, putting on an offended face. "How dare you! I am not a thief! I've been in this shop for a while now, unless you are accusing me of stealing from here?"

Rolan comes in before the Commander starts to retort. “My partner, no, my associate could not have been a ‘thief’ as they have been here with me for the past fifteen minutes. And this chase happened how long ago now?”

One of the other Flaming Fists glances up at the clock in the room. “…Five minutes.“

The man to their right smacks them upside the head.

“And what did they look like?” Rolan continues.

“A pale half-orc, short hair with a blue blouse, but-“

He raises a hand to silence them, as if they were misbehaving children. “Then I believe we are done here, as my associate is wearing nothing of the sort and does not look like what you described. Now, unless you are here to buy something or set a donation for the rebuilding fund of the shop, you will kindly leave the premises of Sorcerous Sundries this instant. I expect a formal apology by the end of this week.”

In all honesty, it's funny how lost these Flaming Fist look. They seem unsure of what to do. As Tav scoffs and looks away, it seems as though they're trying not to laugh. He has to fight the smile that's teasing the corners of his mouth, staring at all the blustering Fists as they figure out what to do. Reluctantly, frustrated and angry, they exit out of the office and leave the shop with their tail in between their legs.

He brushes himself off when the heat dies down, finally able to compose himself. “What the hells were you doing? Are you mad?!”

They finally let out the laugh they were holding, straightening themselves out. “I blew up a Fireworks shop. An Absolute Cultist was running it! Who knew? To answer your second question, maybe a little bit. It's been a tough day.”

"And you thought you could just run in here while I was working? Making the Flaming Fist dirty my floors after I just had Cal clean it?!"

"I'm sorry Rolan, I panicked. I wasn't thinking." They say, seeming genuinely apologetic.

He could barely focus, mind still catching up with the events. Is he truly this easy? All they had to do was demand a kiss and he would follow them, like a lovesick puppy? He's ashamed of himself, and he didn't even notice them speaking again.

"Rolan?"

"What?"

"How are you?" They ask sincerely.

He straightens himself up and gets back into his usual facade. "I am well enough. This shop and the tower is a horrid mess, so I've already been spending time reorganizing the texts. Lorroakan barely knew his alphabet. They were not even organized by subject!"

They laugh at that, and gods, the sound makes his heart pound, but afterwards they frown at him, eyes scanning to his face. "You're still bruised."

"I haven't had the time to take care of them. There is too much to do."

They dig into their pack and hold out what he recognizes as a superior healing potion. "Here. If you're going to work, at least heal up. Did I hurt you earlier?"

He slowly takes it, perplexed, "It is nothing I can't handle."

"I'm sorry." They murmur.

"I appreciate your apology, and I forgive you." He states, uncorking the bottle and drinking down the potion.

Instantly, the deep set ache and soreness of his form fades to something less painful. Its like a warm hug, and he feels energized.

They give him a soft set smile as he places the bottle down on the desk. "You look a lot better."

Gods, if he could, he would crush the fluttering feeling the compliment gave him. "Excuse you, I always look better. Now, besides that whole mess that you created, was there anything else you needed from me?”

"I want to make purchases...and barter?" They squeak out.

He sighs heavily, opening the door back up for them, "Of course you do. All right, what do you have for trade then?"

They head out to the counter with a skip to their step. "I promise it's worth it!"

---

Tav ended up having plenty of things to trade, including heavy set armor, rings, and magic items they don't need anymore. Thankfully not all fortune is lost, as they give some coin for high level spell scrolls. A Globe of Invulnerability...how interesting. He knows they are out and about adventuring, but what would they need that kind of spell for? How do they even have the gold to afford it??

They were out the door before he can ask them, clearly in a hurry to get somewhere. "Thank you Rolan!"

A little defeated, he continues on with the rest of his day. Organizing, organizing, and even more organizing. This place is such a shit show, it will take him ages before everything is how he wants it to be. Cal always teased him about having his socks color coded in his drawers.

He plops onto a fresh bed at the end of the day. This was Lorroakan's bed, but Cal and Lia helped him out with cleaning the room. New mattress, new sheets, new blankets, and even new pillows. They tore down the hideous tapestries and paintings he had, and he plans to change the wall into a new color. He still needs to personalize the room to how he likes, but now it was his. No trace of Lorroakan is found here. He idly wonders how Tav decorated their room, or if they have a home to go back to. They're still a mystery to him.

As he lays there, staring at the patterned ceiling, he finds it strange he has a room to himself. It's nice, and he's never had more privacy than now. Sometimes Lorroakan entered in his room at odd hours to start a lesson at his leisure. If he wasn't a light sleeper before, he is now due to the man's random visits. Now here he is, laying his bed, with his nights uninterrupted for the most part.

He has privacy.

...He’s pent up, isn’t he?

Through all the beatings and stress, he never took time to himself and get off. He was worried about getting caught by his mentor. On top of it all, he was too exhausted and hurt to even do much for himself, some nights barely having energy to bathe. But now…

With a sigh, he summons a mage hand to grab a book for him. When was the last time he read a smut book? Half a year, maybe more? Even then, he wouldn’t indulge too much as he never had a lot of privacy. With this large bedroom, the walls being silenced, and the time he now has, he will indulge for a little bit. For one night.

As he reads, there’s not much to go off. This one is poorly written, but he can at least give himself an idea. His mind sketches out a neutral form, no identifying…parts, yet. He’s indecisive, but he’s sure he’ll come up with someone satisfactory for the night.

Usually, his fantasies contain anonymous people with no face, or they wear a mask. It’s less embarrassing than thinking of someone directly. Sometimes they take him from behind, pinning the back of his neck to a table while they rail into him. Others he has someone under him, thrusting into them and littering bites on their neck.

For now, he imagines a person of no specific gender yet, holding him close in a crushing grip and devouring his mouth. It leaves him no room to breathe as he’s pinned to the wall, their thigh between his legs pressing up against his growing erection. Heat gathers south embarrassingly quickly, the tent of his pants tightening. What is Tav like in bed?

As soon as that question pops into his head, the blank person he tried to fantasize about turns into Tav. It shocks him how vivid it is, and he immediately sits up, book falling flat on the mattress as he drops it. No no no, absolutely not. They’re a friend.

A friend who pulled him in by the collar to kissed him with reckless abandon. A friend that was ready to pin him down on his desk. A friend who stroked a finger along his jaw to help him relax into their mouth.

Hells.

His fingers trail down his stomach and into his trousers, taking himself in hand. What’s the harm of indulging in this? They kissed, after all. All of their wonderful features are fresh in his mind. As he teases the underside of his shaft, he imagined it was their hand instead of his own. Precum was already beading at the tip, and he uses it to slick up his cock. He still feels their hands on him, pressing and demanding. He wonders what they would’ve done if they had more time. Are they gentle or rough when they stroke? He’s not sure whether he prefers one or the other yet.

None of this would happen, they have many suitors at their disposal. But damn it all, he could dream that they chose him, in the end.

Gods.

He covers his mouth tightly with his free hand, almost painfully as he thrusts up into his other one. This room is covered in silencing sigils, it’s not like anyone would hear him from the outside, but even he doesn’t want to hear his shameful sounds.

He feverishly switches to a different fantasy, this one containing Tav once more, though this time he isn’t complaining.

They’re both deep in the woods, away from the Tiefling party. They saved them all from the goblins, they deserved some compensation, did they not? Tav is pressed against his back, one hand putting two fingers in his mouth, rolling the muscle of his tongue between them while the other jacks him off. He’s utterly helpless, Tav taking control of his pleasure for him in the best ways as he helplessly grips the bark of a tree. They would tell him how good he was, how much they wanted him, how lovely his moans were. That he was handsome, strong, and worthy.

That they loved him-

Strings of white decorate his stomach, his climax coming with a stuttered gasp. It came more quickly than he thought it would, and his body spasms with how intense it is. The cry that climbs up his throat stops short by his hand.

He massages himself through it, feeling dazed and utterly pathetic. How dare he think about Tav in this way, as if they were an object for his pleasure? They’re not his, and he’s not theirs, no matter how much he wants to be. What would they say if they saw him like this, desperate and lustful even after his orgasm?

Gods, he wants them so badly, and he knows he can never have them.

Catching his breath, he feels disgusting. Filthy. He shouldn't think of them at all, he hasn't earned that right to them. It's pitiful.

To remedy his sin, he gets out of his bed and heads to the washroom. It's grand in comparison to his lowly basin in the shop, and he's unsure where to start now that he has access to it. Firstly, he takes out a Create Water spell scroll and casts it, filling the entire tub with water. He then modifies the Produce Flame spell to heat up the water. That will do for now, he'll figure out how to make the process a lot quicker later.

He takes off his soiled nightwear, stepping into the water with a slight hiss. All right, maybe he made it a little too hot, but it's nothing he can't handle. Lorroakan has burned him worse. As soon as he gets to the hip line, he pours lavender oil into the steaming water and sinks in completely. He's heard of the scent being beneficial for sleep, mostly from Tav. He wonders if they are an herbalist- no, no, he isn't supposed to be thinking about them.

Emptying his mind is proving harder than he thought. No thanks to his previous transgression, Tav's face plagued him. Questions pop up without him wanting them to: how does Tav look when flustered? Are they experienced with intimacy? Do they like pain? Are they sweet? What is their perfect date? How do they show their love-

He dunks himself fully into the water before the thought could finish, and he feels the sting of the hot water against his face as he sits under the surface. Finally, his mind is silent, so he holds his breath as long as he could. It's oddly soothing, just being alone under the water. A perfect escape to everything around him. He may just have to do this more often.

Unfortunately, he has not done any training to hold his breath, so he has to come up for air within thirty seconds. Perhaps he should practice, but that's for another time.

Now that his hair was thoroughly wet, he begins washing and conditioning his hair, giving himself a scalp massage while he was at it. He didn't trust the mage hands to do it for him. They were floating in the corner, waiting for a command. Can mage hands pout? It feels as though that's exactly what they're doing. Why are they so eager to help anyways? He should dismiss them when he has the time.

After dunking under the water again to wash out all the products, he exits the bath carefully, using Prestidigitation to instantly dry himself. Ah, what would he do if he didn't have that spell on hand? It is incredibly convenient. Can Tav use magic for mundane tasks?

He pauses as he slides on a robe. Gods damn it, it's happening again! That didn't last too fucking long, now did it?

With a groan, he marches back into the bedroom and towards the balcony, pushing the doors open. The night hair hits him immediately, sending a brief chill through him before calming. With a heavy sigh, he goes to the railing and leans against it, watching the silent city of Baldur's Gate. The lanterns have long burned out, and the stars are blooming above him, but he can't relax. He's desperate for Tav, and it's pitiful.

Pressing his forehead on the cold stone, he realizes what a miserable, selfish, wretched creature he is. After all of those things, he's somehow still hopeful. Why else would they kiss him like that? Is he reading too much into this?

Though, perhaps, instead of dwelling on unwanted thoughts, he should just let them go. Lia always did say he thinks too much. Cal mentioned it could be quite damaging on one's psyche.

So he lets the thoughts flow. All of the domestic ones and all of the lustful ones, too. He flickers through memories of he and Tav's interactions, thinking of what could have been and where he went wrong. The shouting, the aggression, the drinking. Gods, the drinking. He hasn't touched wine in a while because of it.

Then he lets it all go.

He raises his head, taking a deep, long breath of the fresh night air. He's in Baldur's Gate. They all made it. The Absolute's army is about to knock on their door, but just for tonight, at least in this moment, he's calm. He's okay.

Maybe he'll be okay later, too.

After an hour, he makes it to his bed and lulls himself to sleep, pulling up the thickest parts of the blanket to hold. It manages to lull him to sleep. A success, in Rolan's tired mind.

There's so much to do with so little time.

---

A tenday has passed and Tav has not returned.

It's for the best that they don't come, as they continuously plague Rolan's mind. He can't stop thinking about them, no matter how much he distracts himself. Most of them are lustful and depraved, some of which make him feel utterly ashamed. He has no right to think of them in this way.

Though, it's the other thoughts that confuse him the most.

They're domestically blissful. He imagines waking up in bed with them, nuzzling into their hair as they convince him to stay a few more moments. He imagines dates, lacing his fingers through theirs while telling them how stunning they are. He imagines it's their body that he pulls close late at night, and not a spare pillow he squeezes to his chest.

He hates these thoughts more than most, as it makes him silently grieve what could've been if he weren't such an arrogant prick. What if he was nicer to them when they first met? Would they have approached him a third time at the party and invite him to their tent? Embarrassingly, he's been losing more sleep than usual over the what if's, and it's making him sloppy with his work. Papers were scattered, he keeps losing his books, and ink stains have been appearing on his robes more and more lately. Unacceptable.

Is he truly this pathetic, losing sleep over domestic thoughts with someone unreachable? Is he that lonely? Does he crave company that badly? It is a wizard's curse, surely.

He thought he got over this, but it seems he needs more than one night to 'let go' of them. Damn it all, why can't this be easier?

He shakes his head, regaining his focus of the task at hand. Rearranging the scrolls once more, he stands onto his feet again and brushes the dust off of his robe. He proudly places his hands on his hips. Finally, after so many days, he has the counter exactly how he wants it. Everything is organized, not a speck of dust in sight, all of it is beautifully-

One of the doors slam open again by a gust of wind, and rage fills him to the core. Why, oh why are the gods so against him? Now there's dirt of the floor, he just made Krank sweep it all out!

The anger disappears instantaneously when he sees Tav rush through the door, sweat beading on their brow and their face flushes from exertion. Extremely similar to how they appeared last time-

Oh no.

As they rush past the counter to the same room they both in before, he starts following them without thinking. What in the hells was he doing?! This can only lead to something terrible for him, even if Tav would be none the wiser. Why does he torture himself like this? He finally has everything he could ever want, yet he greedy for more. For the one thing he can never hope to have.

But they need him, and he could never deny them.

He quickly enters the room after them, shutting the door on his way in. Thankfully this room is more presentable this time around, but he doubts Tav will notice it. They have never been one to look at the finer details. At least from what he has seen, it's not as if he spent much time around them. That thought makes jealousy swell in his chest.

"I need help again." Tav states, rustling up their clothes.

"I can see that," He sasses, but Tav is already pushing off the mantle that sits on his shoulders before pulling him into a kiss, hand fisting the front of his robes.

What has he done to deserve this punishment? Are the Gods testing him by dangling his one desire in front of him? They should know he's too weak to resist their touch.

He gasps into their mouth when they pin him to the wall, free hand grasping the back of his thigh. They easily put their leg in between his, which puts him in a daze. Is this truly an act if they would go this far, or are they testing his boundaries? The worst part about this is he never wants them to stop. He wants them to keep going and reduce him to a pitiful, breathless mess.

They're already succeeding in that, it seems.

When he feels them try to pry his teeth open, he lets them, tangling his tongue with theirs. The noise is so lewd in his ear, a blush immediately rising to his face at the intimacy of it all. He thought about this situation constantly, both through the actual memory and then to his fantasies. Though, fantasy is nothing compared to their real hand tracing the skin of his exposed neck, mapping out the dips and curves of his adam's apple. Images flash through his mind of them choking him, not to hurt, but to claim. He honesty hopes they would do so, but alas, their hand trails up to cup his jaw instead.

This action only made him more flustered, and while he doesn't understand why, he accepts it all the same and leans into their hand. No one has ever touched his face like this in many, many years. Usually it was hit or slapped, no thanks to his teacher. Even when their touch is as gentle as a dove, he can't help but flinch when their thumb strokes along his cheekbone. They pull away from the kiss, catching their breath with a question on the tip of their tongue.

As if the world is playing a joke, those same Flaming Fists burst the door open. They look surprised once again.

"Again?!" He shouts at them, bristling and baring his teeth.

"Do you fucking mind?" Tav yells after, giving them a hard-earned glare.

The Flaming Fists do not bother arguing again, turning heel and leaving the shop without another word. They look foolish, doing their walk of shame. At least they were quick about it, Rolan did not feel like giving them another lecture.

"How do you do, Rolan?" They tease, a hand still fisting his sleeve.

It is a miracle how he keeps his composure. "Well enough, I suppose. Now, as I said earlier, again?"

"There's a perfectly good explanation."

"Then?"

"They were assholes so I stole their money."

"I'm inclined to agree. They are quite intrusive in their searches. Though, must have you lead them here again? I just had Krank clean the floors of the shop from bottom to top!" He complains, running a hand down his face as he stabilizes his footing, "Now I'll have to command him to do it all over again. At least the bottom part."

"I know, I'm sorry to do this to you again. I can make it up to you!" The say quickly before taking a pause. "Wait, you reanimated Krank?"

"Despite being Lorroakan's, he still had his uses." He drawls, suddenly feeling trapped in their space. "Clearly weaponry is not the armors calling, so I have him clean the floors in the morning and at night. There hasn't been any complaints."

"It's animated armor, Rolan. It can't complain."

"I meant complaints from the customers, you absolute dunce!" He snaps and immediately regrets it, but Tav bursts out in a fit of laughter at his insult.

Never has he understood what was so funny about them being insulted. Does he look like a fool doing so? Are they laughing at him? He should be angry over it but he most likely deserves it.

"Well, I feel terrible for dragging you in here twice," They giggle, wiping a stray tear from their eye. "So I want to make it up to you."

"And how do you suppose you'll do that?" He challenges.

"Well, we already got the first part of it started, if you're interested." They tease, voice low.

Oh gods.

"We could take it further. I can feel your little friend down there, and I'm more than happy to help." They murmur in his ear.

A cold sweat hits him in that instant. This is his worst nightmare. He wants it, gods does he want it so badly, but if he accepts it there will be no turning back for him.

They attempt to cup his cheek but he turns his face away, gently pushing them.

“Rolan?”

“I can’t do this.” He says, unable to look them in the eye, but he feels the way they tense.

Before they can start apologizing, he continues, “I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since the Shadow-Cursed Lands, I think. I adore many things about you. But you keep holding me like this, kissing me, and it's starting to make me believe that there will be more than this, one day. When The Absolute is gone, and Baldur's Gate is safe, you would do me the honor of considering me as a...companion."

"Oh, Rolan..."

"I refuse to be a side piece, someone who will be at your beckon call whenever you're bored. You’re tugging at my heart as if it’s your plaything, and while I know you have not done this on purpose, I can't handle it anymore."

He exhales sharply, tilting his face up when he feels tears sting his eyes. "Please, do not torture me like this and just go. Leave."

When he’s met with silence, he swallows and blinks away the wetness of his eyes. He knew that he never had a chance, and that their affections were never real. How could his savior ever look at him like he looked at them? But that diversion of theirs was so wonderful, and for at least a temporary moment, he felt wanted. Desired.

Loved.

He knew he couldn’t continue. It is selfish of him and he would’ve been setting himself up for heartbreak.

Tav leans in close, eyes tender as they tilt his chin back down. “Rolan…I’ve been a fool. I thought I was being obvious.”

He finally can look at them in the eye. “What?”

They can't help but chuckle, but it is a good natured one, “I’m in love with you too, idiot. Why do you think I would keep seeing you in this way?” They ask, tucking some hair behind his ear. “I'm so sorry, I should have been more forward with you. I never meant to hurt your heart like this, you mean too much to me."

He must be dreaming, he has to be, but he can feel the of their body pressing against him. They want him too, and it makes his heart want to burst out of his ribcage. He isn't aware of the blush that rises in his face at their confession, making his already red skin grow crimson.

They carefully cup his face again, pressing their forehead against his, being mindful of his horns. "I'm sorry Rolan, truly. Could you ever forgive me?"

His adam's apple bobs with his swallow, but his face remains a stern look. "...Your apology seems genuine, and I forgive you."

"Well good, I was worried that I just fucked up my chance." They huff with a smile, gently pinning him against the wall once more. "Now, would you like me to try this again and kiss you?”

“Please.” He whispers instantly, tail coiling around their leg.

It was unclear who pulled in first, but what mattered is their hands were all over each other as they kiss fiercely. He felt one of their hands move back and grip the base of his tail. A pathetic whimper escapes his mouth, pleasure shooting up his spine. Tav happily nips his bottom lip in response before pulling away. “I want to see your bedroom, Rolan. Now.”

"As you wish." He responds breathlessly.

Using Dimension Door, he teleports the both of them to the top of the stairs of Sorcerous Sundries, pulling them through the portal and into the tower. This is a totally inappropriate use of one of his higher level spells, but his mind is in a sexually charged place. He'll chastise himself for it later.

His grip on their hand is tight, sweat gathering there as he teleports them again to the bedroom. It isn't customized to his liking quite yet, but it at least has the colors he wants. Deeper blues mixed with other calming colors to help him sleep. He doubts Tav is admiring the features with the way they pull him onto the mattress.

When they both settle in the bed, Tav quickly gets undressed, unclipping the armor and ripping off their under clothes in one fell swoop. Whatever he though their body looked like in his dreams, the real thing is so much better. Any little scar or texture change, he either wants to trace with his fingers or with his tongue. As they lay back and spread their legs, he reaches for them.

They gently smack his hand away when he tries to touch their chest, smirking. “No. You will sit back all pretty and watch.”

His mouth goes dry, surprised at the sudden command, but would he truly be a student of the Weave if he did not know how to listen to directions? He does as told, sitting back on his feet.

"Do you have oil in here?" They question.

"Right side, top drawer."

They crawl over and grab it, settling back into position as they drizzle the product onto their fingers. They make a show of it, too, playing with the substance between their fingers before their hand trails down in between their legs, locking eyes with Rolan.

He swallows as he watches them open themselves up, all for him. It sends his mind reeling with lust, and he’s still not allowed to touch. Torture, is what it is. They have him exactly where they want him, and he is not complaining one bit. Not in his wildest imagination could he have though of this scenario. It's incredible. They're incredible.

As they go on languidly slow, he starts feeling hot all over. His clothes feel too suffocating around his body, his trousers unbelievably tight. It takes everything in him not to palm his growing erection, biting a lip to stifle a small moan that threatens to escape his throat.

“I want to watch you take all those layers off, Rolan. It’s not fair if I’m the only one naked.” They demand, hooking their fingers inside of themselves and groaning.

He responds by finally taking off that mantle that sets heavy on his shoulders. They watch him unblinking as he instantly gets his robes off, seeing the tent in his smalls that expresses his want. It looks painful. He throws the robes, shoes, and smalls off somewhere in the room, his cock now in the cold air, leaking.

They smirk at the sight, now curling three fingers in with a long winded moan. “Gods, I can’t wait to have you in me. I bet you feel so good, look at that…”

Have they always been this good with their words? They always have in his pathetic fantasies, but the real thing makes him twitch in need. He wants to touch them, feel their skin against his in a blaze of pleasure.

Alas, he has to wait.

Finally, they take their fingers out of themselves and sit back up. “I’m ready for you.”

“I want to touch you, Tav.” He admits, fingers twitching on the top of his thighs.

They crawl over to him and sit in his lap, breathing hard as they wrap their arms around his shoulders. “You may.”

He takes some small amount of comfort in that they’re as hot and bothered as he is, watching their flushed face before they crash their lips into his own.

He whines into their mouth, his cock trapped in between their stomachs. The friction is positively divine and he already thinks he may be close with the way their fingers trace the ridges on his back. They're mapping them out, pressing against the wing impressions on his shoulder blades and then trailing them down his spine. As soon as they reach the base of his tail, they tug on it once more.

A gasp shudders out of him when they grind against him. “Tav, if you keep doing that, I won’t last much longer.”

They hum in approval, sucking a hickey into the base of his throat. “What if I promise to make you come again?”

“Tav, please—”

“Okay okay.” They relent, moving back a little to give him some breathing room.

They stay in his lap as they pull him in for another kiss, and he joyfully obliges. Their tongues dance as he gropes their chest, mostly wanting to feel the unique textures of their skin. They’re perfect, to him. He wishes they were some sort of god, because at least then he would have an explanation for his need towards them. This unrelenting desire that he has pleaded for every night when he dreamt of them.

He has so many dreams, one that wake him in a sweat and painfully hard in his trousers. He made a theory that indulging would help the process of forgetting his desires, but it seems as though his hypothesis was wrong. Dead wrong. His dreams of them only became more vivid, some tricking him into thinking it was real. He mourned when he woke up those mornings, wondering why the Gods were torturing him with their image, their body, their face, their laugh.

Hells, he hopes he's not dreaming right now, they feel too real. He can feel them biting and tugging his lower lip, so he concludes that they were, in fact, here with him. Making him feel so much better than his wildest fantasies. Their nails bite into the back of his neck as they briefly deepen the kiss, before pulling themselves away, a string of saliva connecting them. For at least a moment, he catches his breath.

With a solid push to his chest, he falls back onto the bed with a soft thump. He pushes himself back up onto his elbows quickly, breathing harsh. At first, he’s worried he screwed something up. Did his nails hurt their skin? He should have blunt them this morning. But then they straddle his waist and take hold of his drooling hard-on, ready to sink onto him. “Hold still.”

As they lower themselves, stars burst behind his eyes as he takes them fully, their walls squeezing around him so deliciously. He bites back a moan that tries to work its way up his throat. Squeezing his eyes shut, he manages to hold himself together when they seat themselves onto him.

“Gods, you feel so fucking good Rolan.” They moan, clenching briefly around him until they finally relax. They do a test grind, and he knows he's hitting all the right places within them with the way their eyes flutter.

“So do you.” He says breathlessly, a light sheen of sweat already decorating his skin, pupils blown wide as his tail flicks about. The appendage instinctively reaches for something to hold onto. Anything at all. In the end, he settles with wrapping his tail around their waist, keeping himself grounded. They smile down at him when they feel it squeeze them.

He tries to reach for for their sides shakily, but they are more put together in this moment, and much faster. They take his hands, lacing their fingers through his, and pin them each besides his head. He’s only met with a grin before they start riding him with reckless abandon, gripping his hands unbelievably tight.

A groan that trails off into a whimper escapes his throat, hips subconsciously thrusting up into their tight heat. It felt positively divine feeling their walls clench around him, purposely teasing. They’re grinning, even when they toss their head back and moan. He squeezes their hands for dear life, already losing himself as their skin meets his. “Ah— Tav—“

“That’s it baby, I want to hear you.” They pant, leaning down and kissing him soundly. He lets their tongue pry his lips with ease, begging for a taste.

“I won’t last if— gods—“ he cries against their mouth, toes curling in the sheets.

“I don’t care, let me feel you. I want it.”

He curses when they clench around him again, clearly wanting to milk him dry, but he manages to stave his orgasm off. At least for a little bit. This felt so fucking good, he never wants it to end. But with the way they roll their hips, he’s not going to last. He wishes he could have last longer, giving them their pleasure the way they deserve after all of their hardship. They saved him, saved his siblings, saved the tieflings. Twice. Then they saved him for a third time. They did not have to, they could've walked away and let him lay with his poor choices. They didn't, and he's never seen them more angry than when they saw his bruised face.

His stomach suddenly tightens, giving him that impending warning he knows all too well in recent days. “C—Close, I’m close—“ he rasps.

“Me too. Fuck, you feel so good love.” They murmur thoughtlessly.

That nickname teeters him over the edge, and Rolan came with a cry in his throat. Tav was not far behind, fluttering around him as they came as well.

They breathe hard, resting on top of him and letting go of his hands. They instead use them to hold his heated face and kiss him gently. With his hands free, he wraps his arms around their back to pull them closer. He’s spent, exhausted, but he’s never felt more content as he kisses them.

Before they both could feel uncomfortable, he murmurs the words of prestidigitation and cleans them up as they rise off of his softening cock. They plop next to him on the bed, smiling tiredly.

“You were amazing.”

He laughs at that, wiping sweat off of his face. “I should be saying that to you.”

“Then we’re both amazing, hm?” They tease, scooting closer to his side. "Where did you learn how to fuck like that?"

"Must you be so vulgar?" He exasperates with a groan, making them laugh, "But if you must know, I have done extensive research on the subject."

"Ooooh research! What, did you study anatomy books?"

He groans, covering his face with his hands.

"Wait a minute, you have a smut collection?! This I have to see."

"Absolutely not!" He shouts, his face, neck, and ears now a deep crimson.

They burst out laughing, and as much as he wants to chastise them for it, he ends up laughing with them. He's never felt so light before now, as if he's finally feeling relief for all the trouble he's been through.

Gods, he's truly in love with them, isn't he?

"I can go for a round two, if you're up for it." They say after calming down their laughter.

He snickers at that, pecking heir forehead. "As much as that sounds wonderful, you've exhausted me for the day."

"Then how about some cuddling? Karlach always said I give great hugs."

He hums, pecking their cheek next as they wrap their arms around him. "I think I would like that, very much."

Letting out a deep rooted sigh, he feel all the tension in his body finally leave him. He should be disgusted by all the sweat gathered around them in the aftermath of their activities, but in this moment, he wouldn't have it any other way. There's time to complain about it later. Perhaps he can show them the bath he now uses. Would they be impressed by it? It certainly is better than whatever they have going on in the Elfsong Tavern. He wants to do everything to impress them, make himself worth their while even with the chaos that is their lives. But for now, he's calm.

For the first time, Rolan felt truly free.

"Does Krank know how to clean bed sheets?"

Snorting, he looks at them again. "I haven't made him try. He's decent at mopping and sweeping...somewhat. Why?"

"Just curious. It's cute how you just have a little servant now, cleaning the place."

"Krank is not a servant, he is an employee of my establishment."

"You don't pay him!"

"That is not the point! He works, does he not?"

They laugh, pressing their forehead against his. "Fine, fine, but why not make him clean your room, including the sheets?"

"He will mess them up! I know how to properly smooth it out and make this room look highly presentable."

"Oh, I'm sure you do...anyways, do you have a bath in here? I stink and feel sweaty." He barks out a laugh, reluctantly getting out of their arms and shuffling off the bed. "I do, it's in the next room over."

When he offers his hand to them, they happily take it as he leads them to the side room. The large bath presents itself, though it is empty right now. He should figure out a way for it to be ready automatically in any time of the day, but he'll work out the kinks later. He wants to show them that his fingers have talent in ways they wouldn't comprehend. All of it in the form of a heavenly scalp massage.

#forest-writes #rolan x tav #rolan #bg3 rolan #holy rolan empire #rolan bg3 #rolanites #rolan brainrot

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cripplecharacters · 2 months

Text

Where to Start Your Research When Writing a Disabled Character

[large text: Where to Start Your Research When Writing a Disabled Character]

So you have decided that you want to make a disabled character! Awesome. But what's next? What information should you decide on at the early phrase of making the character?

This post will only talk about the disability part of the character creation process. Obviously, a disabled character needs a personality, interests, and backstory as every other one. But by including their disability early in the process, you can actually get it to have a deeper effect on the character - disability shouldn't be their whole life, but it should impact it. That's what disabilities do.

If you don't know what disability you would want to give them in the first place;

[large text: If you don't know what disability you would want to give them in the first place;]

Start broad. Is it sensory, mobility related, cognitive, developmental, autoimmune, neurodegenerative; maybe multiple of these, or maybe something else completely? Pick one and see what disabilities it encompasses; see if anything works for your character. Or...

If you have a specific symptom or aid in mind, see what could cause them. Don't assume or guess; not every wheelchair user is vaguely paralyzed below the waist with no other symptoms, not everyone with extensive scarring got it via physical trauma. Or...

Consider which disabilities are common in real life. Cerebral palsy, muscular dystrophy, stroke, cataracts, diabetes, intellectual disability, neuropathy, multiple sclerosis, epilepsy, thyroid disorders, autism, dwarfism, arthritis, cancers, brain damage, just to name a few.

Decide what specific type of condition they will have. If you're thinking about them having albinism, will it be ocular, oculocutaneous, or one of the rare syndrome-types? If you want to give them spinal muscular atrophy, which of the many possible onsets will they have? If they have Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, which one out of the 13 different types do they have? Is their amputation below, or above the knee (it's a major difference)? Not all conditions will have subtypes, but it's worth looking into to not be surprised later. This will help you with further research.

If you're really struggling with figuring out what exact disability would make sense for your character, you can send an ask. Just make sure that you have tried the above and put actual specifics in your ask to give us something to work with. You can also check out our "disabled character ideas" tag.

Here are some ideas for a character using crutches.

Here are some ideas for a character with a facial difference (obligatory link: what is a facial difference?).

If you already know what disability your character is going to have;

[large text: If you already know what disability your character is going to have;]

Start by reading about the onset and cause of the condition. It could be acquired, congenital, progressive, potentially multiple of these. They could be caused by an illness, trauma, or something else entirely. Is your character a congenital amputee, or is it acquired? If acquired - how recently? Has it been a week, or 10 years? What caused them to become disabled - did they have meningitis, or was it an accident? Again, check what your options are - there are going to be more diverse than you expect.

Read about the symptoms. Do not assume or guess what they are. You will almost definitely discover something new. Example: a lot of people making a character with albinism don't realize that it has other symptoms than just lack of melanin, like nystagmus, visual impairment, and photophobia. Decide what your character experiences, to what degree, how frequently, and what do they do (or don't do) to deal with it.

Don't give your character only the most "acceptable" symptoms of their disability and ignore everything else. Example: many writers will omit the topic of incontinence in their para- and tetraplegic characters, even though it's extremely common. Don't shy away from aspects of disability that aren't romanticized.

Don't just... make them abled "because magic". If they're Deaf, don't give them some ability that will make them into an essentially hearing person. Don't give your blind character some "cheat" so that they can see, give them a cane. Don't give an amputee prosthetics that work better than meat limbs. To have a disabled character you need to have a character that's actually disabled. There's no way around it.

Think about complications your character could experience within the story. If your character wears their prosthetic a lot, they might start to experience skin breakdown or pain. Someone who uses a wheelchair a lot has a risk of pressure sores. Glowing and Flickering Fantasy Item might cause problems for someone photophobic or photosensitive. What do they do when that happens, or how do they prevent that from happening?

Look out for comorbidities. It's rare for disabled people to only have one medical condition and nothing else. Disabilities like to show up in pairs. Or dozens.

If relevant, consider mobility aids, assistive devices, and disability aids. Wheelchairs, canes, rollators, braces, AAC, walkers, nasal cannulas, crutches, white canes, feeding tubes, braillers, ostomy bags, insulin pumps, service dogs, trach tubes, hearing aids, orthoses, splints... the list is basically endless, and there's a lot of everyday things that might count as a disability aid as well - even just a hat could be one for someone whose disability requires them to stay out of the sun. Make sure that it's actually based on symptoms, not just your assumptions - most blind people don't wear sunglasses, not all people with SCI use a wheelchair, upper limb prosthetics aren't nearly as useful as you think. Decide which ones your character could have, how often they would use them, and if they switch between different aids.

Basically all of the above aids will have subtypes or variants. There is a lot of options. Does your character use an active manual wheelchair, a powerchair, or a generic hospital wheelchair? Are they using high-, or low-tech AAC? What would be available to them? Does it change over the course of their story, or their life in general?

If relevant, think about what treatment your character might receive. Do they need medication? Physical therapy? Occupational therapy? Orientation and mobility training? Speech therapy? Do they have access to it, and why or why not?

What is your character's support system? Do they have a carer; if yes, then what do they help your character with and what kind of relationship do they have? Is your character happy about it or not at all?

How did their life change after becoming disabled? If your character goes from being an extreme athlete to suddenly being a full-time wheelchair user, it will have an effect - are they going to stop doing sports at all, are they going to just do extreme wheelchair sports now, or are they going to try out wheelchair table tennis instead? Do they know and respect their new limitations? Did they have to get a different job or had to make their house accessible? Do they have support in this transition, or are they on their own - do they wish they had that support?

What about *other* characters? Your character isn't going to be the only disabled person in existence. Do they know other disabled people? Do they have a community? If your character manages their disability with something that's only available to them, what about all the other people with the same disability?

What is the society that your character lives in like? Is the architecture accessible? How do they treat disabled people? Are abled characters knowledgeable about disabilities? How many people speak the local sign language(s)? Are accessible bathrooms common, or does your character have to go home every few hours? Is there access to prosthetists and ocularists, or what do they do when their prosthetic leg or eye requires the routine check-up?

Know the tropes. If a burn survivor character is an evil mask-wearer, if a powerchair user is a constantly rude and ungrateful to everyone villain, if an amputee is a genius mechanic who fixes their own prosthetics, you have A Trope. Not all tropes are made equal; some are actively harmful to real people, while others are just annoying or boring by the nature of having been done to death. During the character creation process, research what tropes might apply and just try to trace your logic. Does your blind character see the future because it's a common superpower in their world, or are you doing the ancient "Blind Seer" trope?

Remember, that not all of the above questions will come up in your writing, but to know which ones won't you need to know the answers to them first. Even if you don't decide to explicitly name your character's condition, you will be aware of what they might function like. You will be able to add more depth to your character if you decide that they have T6 spina bifida, rather than if you made them into an ambiguous wheelchair user with ambiguous symptoms and ambiguous needs. Embrace research as part of your process and your characters will be better representation, sure, but they will also make more sense and seem more like actual people; same with the world that they are a part of.

This post exists to help you establish the basics of your character's disability so that you can do research on your own and answer some of the most common ("what are symptoms of x?") questions by yourself. If you have these things already established, it will also be easier for us to answer any possible questions you might have - e.g. "what would a character with complete high-level paraplegia do in a world where the modern kind of wheelchair has not been invented yet?" is much more concise than just "how do I write a character with paralysis?" - I think it's more helpful for askers as well; a vague answer won't be much help, I think.

I hope that this post is helpful!

Mod Sasza

#mod sasza #writing reference #writing advice #writing resources #writeblr #writing disabled characters #writing resource #long post #writing tips #writing guide

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