#and then he came back as an npc for like. A week. Before leaving again. Cool cool cool.

[comfychomps]

i’m sorry i have like fully abandoned this account, i’m still playing fortnite almost daily but i don’t really care to keep up with the fandom anymore because the lore lately has been so middddd. Do you guys remember when fortnite was fun? I do.

[cock-ainee]

You know what imma tell you all?

I once had my first friend. It was uhh, 5th grade of primary school? Previously, i was friendly with almost everybody.

At first she was annoying me. She was always sticking to me and i had no idea why. Only later we started talking and became friends. But it wasn't long, until another friend joined us. And for some time, it still was fine.

Then there was covid... And it was the worst shit that could've ever happened to me. When we finally came back to school i was more closed off than ever. But i still had my friends, right? So i thought.

Sometime later they both went on a trip during winter holidays. I couldn't go, so they took a girl from another class. And when they came back, that's when it started. They completely ignored me most of the time. They were just talking among them three. Well, there was also one more girl that joined at some point. And i was thrown away like a piece of trash. They were always walking down the hallways together while i walked behind them like a loser. They always sat together, leaving me alone. But when i ignored them, of course there was a problem.

I cut off all contact with them after we finished school. Because i was sure i'm going to find more real friends in high school.

A bit before that.. like, exactly 31st of december, 2022 somebody texted me (i had a Gojo pfp on fb and his name was Sukuna) and we started talking. In a really short period of time we became good friends. But with time, he started being dry. He barely texted me, until he completely cut me off, not responding to my messages at all.

One of the most hurtful situations, which literally made me cry, was when i agreed to give my friend my phone. To text him. She was texting him (as me) some sexual kind of stuff (idk we often did that, also in rp) and after i told him it was her, he said something like "could you give me her fb? She seemed cool".

In the end i think he sensed i wasn't really happy with what he said, so he gave up, but it was already there, right?

Well, high school. I was so nervous, because i was afraid of talking with people. And during my first lesson, i talked with a girl. She seemed so genuinely nice, and i felt relieved that i was somehow able to talk with her. After that, she introduced me to her friend. I was sad, because i thought that i won't have a chance to befriend her, since she already has a friend. But as time went on we started talking more and more, and they kind of separated. And she was MY friend. Well, SHE IS my friend. The best, most perfect one i could've ever got. Because that's my @beeksana !!!!

At the end of grade 1, some people from the class started being petty towards me for no reason. Then there was a tiny drama in class (not about me but i helped one of the girls there) and well, summer holidays. When we came back in september, it was a nightmare.

I was alone. Totally alone, and didn't talk to anybody. I skipped school a lot because i couldn't handle being there. Then i was absent a lot because of the winter conditions, and i missed a lot of exams. I csme back to school later though. And i had so much things piled up, i was so fucking scared. I knew it was partly my fault, but i just couldn't handle it. I skipped school again, but for a few weeks until they called my mom to school.

And during that period, i talked with my other "friend" and my cousin. The friend was a class higher than me, and i knew her from primary school. I introduced her to my cousin and they befriended each other too. But the friend has TONS of other friends. And she drinks alcohol on any occassion she gets. I never liked that.

Well, while i talked to them, instead of giving me any support, they started scolding me. Or rather my cousin was scolding me and the friend agreed like the fucking npc she is. They thought i skipped school because i was fucking lazy?? They didn't think at all how i felt mentally, especially with the hell i have at home. I told them to go fuck themselves and left them. And you know what?? I don't feel like i lost something valuable. I don't miss them. If somebody doesn't support you, then fuck them!!

And lately, i was bickering with one of my online friends which is on my kny rp group. She started calling Sanemi ugly or some shit, so i started insulting Douma (her fav character) and she got all petty. What was she fucking thinking?? She wasn't talking to me for some time anyways, and she expected me to not defend Sanemi, who comforted me more than she ever did, even though he doesn't exist???

I told her that "If Sanemi was real i'd have better chances with him than you'd do with Douma, because he strictly likes beautiful women." She got all angry, left all the groupchats, deleted my nick on our private chat and yeah. Left. And i don't think i feel any different too.

So now irl i have one person. And so what? One is better than 10 fucking liars. And so, really, you all - if somebody isn't being right with you, just leave them. You'll save yourself the trouble.

So yes Beebee, FUCK UBER 😈

[christiansorrell]

Play-By-Blog #10: The Isle by Luke Gearing

Welcome to my ongoing play-by-blog of The Isle by Luke Gearing! We are playing this adventure with its original system, The Vanilla Game (adjusted somewhat to fit the format). You can check out the Play-By-Blog Repository to get all caught up if you wish.

How Play-By-Blog works:

I write up the situation, NPCs, and more, just like a DM.

You vote in the poll to help decide the character's course of action.

I roll the dice, resolve actions, and write them up next week.

So on and so forth for the rest of the adventure!

Notation:

[Text in brackets is out-of-character/GM text!] "Non-italicized quotes denote text from the original adventure!" "Italicized quotations denotes NPC dialogue."

Our character: Medon Girou - Magic Cutpurse

Our map: The Isle

[You can use the links above to find Medon's Character Sheet and map of the Isle. On the map, you are currently at 3.]

Now, back to the adventure!

[Our most one-sided poll yet! It turns out when you give most people the option of going down into a mysterious hole, even if it may not be the safest/smartest option, they just can't help themselves! I'm excited to see how this goes! Onward!]

You look back down the stone shaft. After that fight with the fisherman monk, the idea of the monastery weighs on you. There are many more men in there. Men are unpredictable. Even if they lived up to their supposedly godly nature and granted you access or even a place to rest between now and the return of the ship from the mainland, they'd undoubtedly have questions. They could find the body in the cove. They could find the disturbed graves. No, best to check for other ways first before you breach that place.

You securely anchor the grappling hook and silk rope, lowering it down into the shaft. The birds continue to caw and flap their wings at you from the nearby edges of the stone formation. You take one last look across the Isle and descend down into the shaft.

The tunnel itself is rough on the edges, angled and wide enough to climb without the rope but it would be a considerable, possibly dangerous effect. You are happy to have found that odd grave. Thankful to the woman who planned better than you before she came to this place.

The further you descend the more the darkness surrounds you and the less the sunlight from far above is able to reach you. All around you, the rock thrums with the constant crashing of the waves. You are deep within the isle now, and its heart beats all around you.

You're feet touch down on flat ground and you let go of the rope. You turn and have to crouch, looking out from under what appears to be a mantle, soot at your feet. You are in a fireplace, unused for years— maybe centuries. What little light is left here spills out across the room.

Leeches cling to 5 [2d6 roll: 5] skeletons, their bones a strange blackish blue are stained in swirling patterns and writhing with leeches that glisten in the little light. Beards still hang from their skulls. Several spears and swords rest among them. They writhe slowly in place.

At their center, you see another skeleton. A shock of white, nearly glowing hair hanging from its head. Leeches crawl inside its rib cage. A slew of golden rings hang from its bony fingers, rattling as its slowly moves. As its mouth opens, the squealing of the leeches—all of them—form a single voice.

"Well, now... I was not expecting you, but I am not one to turn away guests of any kind, be they invited or not. Come, rest here after your descent."

The few leeches in the center of the room crawl back in the skeletons direction, as if clearing space for you to sit.

"I am Fionn Ó Ceannaigh, and I am the rightful ruler of a land far from here. You need not fear me. You are free to leave, of course. Out there." He gestures towards the shadow of a doorway across the room. Beyond its frame is nothing but pitch black darkness. "But that is my fireplace and my chimney. If you wish to use it again, let us make a deal. I believe we may work together, if you would be so kind. But first, tell me of your troubles. Tell me why you are here."

You take a deep breathe and wonder if the monks really could have been any worse.

[EDIT: The second to last option in this poll should read "Cast Teleport (19/20 chance of success) and flee back to the surface." Sorry for the typo!]

[We are really in it now! From the relative calm of the Isle's surface to the hidden horrors deep below ground. I'm excited to see what y'all choose and how it all starts to play out next week.]

[As always, if you'd like to see Medon do something that is not listed as part of the poll, please reblog or leave a comment with your idea. If enough folks feel the same way, they will be considered similarly to the poll options. If there's a glaring oversight on my part too, I'll be sure to address that. - Christian]

EDIT: Play-By-Blog #11 is live now!

[sorcerous-caress]

sorry if this is annoying but why don’t you like astarion?

Hey it's alright, it doesn't sound annoying and I'm happy to answer.

I like Astarion, I actually love Astarion a lot. He was the sole reason I bought the game in early access and learned DnD mechanics, i have never played a game like Baldur's Gate 3 before.

A detailed overview below bc I love talking.

I saw a tiktok, thought he looked hot and he is an elf that's a bonus and I installed the game thinking it will like the witcher where you waltz around sleeping with any hot person.

I was severally wrong. I was so blind to his manipulation ingame at the first act because I was too focused on sleeping with him. And when act 2 came and he confessed how he truly felt, It was like a waking up slap to the face.

But i managed to move on yk? Bury it and keep playing the game. Part of me still hoped there will be some hot scenes in the future and this is just a stepping stone.

Again, I was very wrong. When the Cazador fight came and Astarion had to face all the people in the cages, when he tells you that you would've just as easily been one of them. It made me leave the game, stop playing for a week despite how big the hype was since I was at the end of it.

I just felt disgusted with myself, it made me feel very uncomfortable how I used to precive him, how he encouraged it. Especially since I resonated with his storyline, I myself have been in a relationship where someone only used me for sex, it hit deeper to home than I could've imagined.

Which is why I don't do nsfw requests of him, it feels too inappropriate. The wound is still fresh and I can't do it without sacrificing my self respect because of how I saw myself in Astarion.

His ascended treatment of us, it was everything my act 1 self wanted out of him in terms of powerful hot vampire craving you, but to the current me, it felt unimaginably gross.

His writers are amazing, you get to know him throughout the game. You are a witness to how clumsy he is with romance, how reluctant he is with sex when he gets the choice. You see the 180° flip and know this is someone else wearing his skin.

But I have zero problems with other people writing his nsfw. It's not a holier than thou deal where it's sfw or bust. Just because something isn't my preference it doesn't mean I can police people about it.

And I did read nsfw Astarion stuff a lot before, before I reached act 3.

Maybe my opinion will change one day and I'll go back to taking his nsfw requests, maybe it won't. It doesn't really matter, there are a lot of talented and good writers who make nsfw works for him and I'm happy for their existence.

-

As for why I don't write solo pieces for him in general? Well I only have so much free time and inspiration to write with, and Astarion has a chokehold on both the writers and artists of this fandom. He probably has more works under his name than Wyll, Halsin, Minthara and Karlach combined.

There is a lot of Astarion content, it feels like everything has been explored already. Every idea pushed to the limit then flipped, every concept fullfilled.

I only write for him when someones requests it, or when I feel like I have something new to say that no one did before. Like my only story about him posted "to dance with you."

I much rather explore the characters that no one paid much attention to like Wyll, Minthara etc. Npcs too.

Astarion is very loved by the fandom, he will be fine.

-

My third point is that he can get too loved by the fandom, borderline obsessively so by certain groups.

Part of the reason why I didn't write for Astarion at all at the start of the blog, and why I'm still hesitant to write about him is because I don't want to interact with his fanbase.

Take your ask for example, i won't assume malice anon, I hope you just sent this out of curiosity.

But literally no other characters fanbase would ask this. I'm one of Minthara's biggest simp and if i thought someone didn't like her, I'd be like "understandable, have a nice day."

For so long I have been slandering Gale and bashing on him, and yet never received a single ask about why I dislike it. Which I don't for thr record i just like bullying him.

But it only took a single Astarion slander post, that wasn't truly about him, for someone to ask this.

I thought it was a hehe haha joke at the start when everyone was talking about how much better he is than the others, how they can't even imagine romancing someone else. When they called the game Astarion dating simulator.

It wasn't a joke. Larian got the most spam and hate reports to fix Astarion's kissing but while Minthara's whole romance is still broken.

I saw a tweet that mentioned how some Astarion fans act like araj oblodra in moonrise tower, the drow that wants him to bite her, and they're really spot on.

He might as well be second coming of Edward Cullen. People are writing paragraphs upon paragraphs in response to every small joke about him and how he approves morally bad stuff? Spinning a false narrative that he wouldn't hurt a fly that he is a sweet little bean that needs to be protect but also he is super loyal and would only want their blood?

Which yeah i get the irony of since I am writing paragraphs upon paragraphs of me complaining about it, and to that i say, shut up :"(

I hate how watered down he is, I hate how artists draw him romanticly thin and hollow. I hate how forgotten his trauma is unless it's time to baby him. I hate the wrinkles removing mods, I hate the ereasing of his flaws and I hate how they run up to the voice actor to confirm their headcanons.

His voice actor is great, even amazing. But he is still a stranger and you shouldn't ask him nsfw questions, you should keep it respectful and still admire his other works, not just flood him about Astarion.

But maybe I'm wrong, i won't pretend I know what his voice actor feels. But I hope the Astarion fanbase aren't being weird to him.

And let's be honest, Cazador is just as bad as all the other evil characters in this game. Gortash, Ketheric and Orin probably commited more bad stuff than him, yet he is the single unpopular evil guy.

Can you guess why? Does him being tied to hurting the beloved golden goose of the fandom ring any bells?

Mizora hurts Wyll, Gortash sold Karlach, Viconia abused Shadowheart. Yet all of them are seen as evil but loved, while liking Cazador bc of how much of a fucked up character he is, gets you blocked.

That's why I include him in my works, there is no content for him, but also so it weirds out any hardcore Astarion fan and they leave my blog.

Man, I talked a lot. I hope that answered you anon, again no hate for you if you happen to be one of the hard-core Astarion fans. You do you and I do me, i genuinely wish the best for you <3 at the end of the day they're just fictional characters and can't be hurt, but you and me are real people with real feelings.

[sibillascribbles08]

This week’s tmnt v-day prompt is “I Love You” so... have a proposal alskdjf tho not a typical one.

“I wish you all would stop sleeping in my bed.” Donatello groaned.

“Sorry,” Sunita chimed. “But your house is closest to the entrance.”

“Get home earlier.”

“No.”

Both her and April started laughing over the voice channel as everyone’s character sprites filed out of the farmhouse. Donatello’s was spending his afternoon playing Stardew with not only the girls, but his boyfriend as well who sat in the same room. He used the laptop on his desk while Donatello sat on the floor, insisting it was comfortable. 

“Guys.” Donatello groaned again as he watched Sunita and April both immediately leave the farm. “It’s star fruit harvest day.”

“Sorry, but we gotta get to Maru’s.” April insisted. “I’m going to max hearts first.”

“No way,” Sunita argued. “Don’t forget who’s in the lead right now.”

“I’m going to steal all the strawberries soon.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Donatello let their argument fade into the background as he went to work picking the star fruit since, apparently, the bickering girlfriends were more worried about who would win over their bachelorette of choice first. Donatello still didn’t know what NPC he wanted to marry on his file. Way too worried about creating a wine empire. He almost had the final house upgrade, but right now he was taking advantage of summer by filling the crop area with star fruits.

At least the repetitive sound effect of harvesting fruit was soothing, but it took ages for him to walk all the way through the lot, and then he’d have to plant all the new seeds and--

He moved up the screen to see Jase already planting them, already done with five sprinklers worth. 

“Oh.” Donatello’s character came to a stop next to his boyfriend. “You got the seeds.”

“Yeah.” Jase said from his desk, but his voice also came over the laptop. “Might as well. But you get to take care of the barn.”

Donatello kept standing there, watching Jase dropping down more seeds.

“I love you.” Donatello let the words jump out of his mouth.

Jase snorted. “For planting seeds?”

He smiled, another idea striking him. “Marry me.”

Jase laughed even louder. His character walked up to stand in front of Donatello’s. “What, like, in game? Or in real life?”

That made his heart sputter in his chest. Game. Of course he meant in game. He hadn’t decided what NPC to marry so why not just marry his boyfriend. Easy solution. But--

“Um...” His face felt so hot he swore he might pass out. “Either?”

The soft tap of fingers drumming over the keys without clicking any of them carried through the room. Nothing but static came in from the headphones, that and the odd chip of a bird or faint buzzing from the games sound effects.

“Yes.” Jase finally said, letting a heart icon pop up over his character sprite. Then he suddenly went back to planting.

“Wait.” Donatello followed him. “Yes to what? To which one?”

“Yes.” Jase snickered, in a way that made it clear he was holding back his laughter. “Yes to both.”

Donatello looked away from the screen and over to Jase. His boyfriend was currently facing away from him, but turned in his seat. His cheeks were bright red, but his smile looked so relaxed.

Donatello shoved his laptop to the side before he stood up and eliminated the distance between them with a single, long stride. Jase spun his chair around just before Donatello held his face, leaning over to press their foreheads together.

“You mean it?” He couldn’t stop smiling, and the buzzing in his chest was reaching a point he swore he’d explode. “You’ll marry me?”

Jase kept laughing, probably in part just to hide his own nerves. “What? Does that surprise you?”

“Well, I don’t know. I’m not doing this right, am I? Don’t most people do something like this on a fancy date? Or perhaps with a gift exchange? Or over a holiday? Or--”

Jase’s hand lightly touched the back of his head before tugging him into a kiss. Ah, an interruption kiss. A sure indicator of “Stop talking, stop thinking.”

So he did, letting himself melt into the contact. He sighed, then bit back a moan as Jase’s hand trailed around his neck to the underside of his chin.

“Uh, guys?”

April’s voice in his headphones made Donatello pull away.

“You guys know you’re not muted, right?” April continued.

Sunita failed to muffle her laughter.

Donatello glared as he looked to the side, as if his best friend was standing there. “Oh, sorry, should we go on a BRB for a bit?”

“If y’all are gonna make out then yeah.”

“I think it’s cute.” Sunita kept giggling. “When’s the wedding. Have you thought about a theme?”

Donatello flinched, then glanced at his boyfriend to see him mirroring his strained expression. “Uh, not yet?”

“Sunita he clearly didn’t plan any of this.” April scoffed. “Do you even have an engagement ring or something?”

“Ah! A ring!” Donatello dove back to his laptop. “That’s it. I have the recipe. I’ll go find a prismatic shard and make one.”

“I meant an actual ring, Donnie.” April shouted.

Jase chuckled, his chair squeaking as he turned back around. “It’s fine. He can buy me a real one later.”

“Oh I will.” Donatello snatched a bunch of spare stone out of their supply chest before racing off to the bus. It was late enough he didn’t need to waste a totem. “And it’s going to look even better than this one.”

“You going to get a rainbow rock and everything?” April asked.

“Well I assume he’d prefer purple.”

“I dunno, maybe it should be green,” Jase said.

“Purple and green.” Donatello mumbled, already thing about design possibilities.

He tried to focus when he got into the cavern, and thankfully there were minimal distractions apart from Sunita and April having casual conversations about how they’d want to propose to each other. Not over a game of stardew valley, they emphasized.

“Can’t lie.” Jase finally joined in the conversation. “It definitely wasn’t what I was picturing.”

“Oh?” Donatello managed to get to floor twenty-six, still no prismatic shard. “What, did you have any proposal plans?”

“Well, if you weren’t going to do it I did consider rigging the lights in our HQ building to spell it out.”

“Aw,” Sunita cooed. “That would have been so cute!”

“Nice and flashy,” April agreed. “Easier to remember than asking it out of nowhere during a video game.”

“Hey.” Donatello snapped as he kept swinging at some serpents. “I am recording this you know. So it’s not like I’ll forget.”

“You should still do something nice when you get the ring.” April insisted.

“Let me ask instead.” Jase snickered.

“No, no.” Donatello looked over at him. “If I’m getting you a ring then I have to be the one to--”

The low chime of the death sound suddenly struck his ears. He looked back at his screen to see his health at zero, everything flashing red. 

“Nooooo!” Donatello practically screamed into the mic just as the notification in the in game chat came up.

“Donnie, what?” April snapped at him.

Jase laughed even louder now. “Did you actually just die?”

“Nooo, no no no.” Donatello shook his laptop as the screen transitioned.

“You better not have lost anything important.” April insisted.

“It’s probably fine.” Sunita insisted. “I doubt he took anything that important.”

Right as she said that the list of lost items came up onto the screen. Donatello’s heart dropped to his stomach when he saw all three variants of star fruit were on that list.

“Oh my god.” He dropped his laptop.

“What?” All three of his friends said over the voice channel at the same time.

“Donnie?” April’s voice took on a harsh edge. “What did you lose.”

“The star fruit.” He mumbled.

“All of it!?”

Sunita burst out laughing.

“Donnie are you serious? All three stacks? Why did you even take that with you?”

“I wouldn’t have had to if one of you had helped me pick it.” He snapped back.

Jase let out a long tired sigh. “I want a divorce.”

Donatello looked at him. “What?”

Now April was laughing, so loud her mic kept cutting her voice out.

“Jase we haven’t even gotten married yet. We can’t get a divorce.”

“I’m getting a divorce.” Jase repeated.

“Noooo.” Donatello lay down on the floor, towards Jase. “Darling please, I’m so sorry. Don’t leave me. I love you.”

“Love you more if you didn’t lose all our star fruit.”

“I can get it back!”

“You can only get one stack back!” 

Ugh, well that was true. He’d have to prioritize the largest number of them for the wine making.

Donatello kept being dramatic, dragging himself along the floor until he could grip the base of Jase’s chair. “Let me make it up to you some other way.”

“Get off the floor, Donnie.”

“Please.”

“Donnie, time is still passing in game. Get to the guild before it closes.”

Donatello huffed and pulled himself up. He went to move back to his laptop, only for Jase to grab his arm and tug him close again.

“We can talk about how you can make it up to me later.” He whispered before kissing him on the cheek.

The heat returned to Donatello’s face. “I love you.” Once again the words leapt free from his throat.

Jase sighed, but he smiled. “I love you too.”

[nightcall99]

Notes from 20.2.24

'Nothing here is for me'. Yeah.

Here's some boring ranting about my life. (I'm not here right now, I'm an NPC. Can you tell the difference?)

SM is getting shipped off again for a few weeks to another store, and today he said, Nice knowing you, yeah? I said, We already did this last month, I don't know why you keep popping back here so I have to keep saying goodbye, it's kind of annoying. He said, Yeah I know. Normal friends just continue on being friends regardless of where they are physically, but we've always had a complicated relationship. It's like when you know someone too well, and realise it doesn't translate outside of being in forced close proximity. Anyway, then I saw him at the supermarket after work and I knew he saw me first but didn't say anything. Then I walked past him outside while he was waiting for his Uber and he pretended not to see me, until I said something first. I know I invented all this to show me how I really feel. Which is hurt. We used to be so close. I dunno, I've let everyone go except him. There's just a tiny twinge left and that's why I had that dream yesterday. He was one of the few people in my life who was genuinely a good listener. I used to be able to say anything to him and he was never fazed. It's always me being the good listener.

Anyway, AL is annoying me too. On Sundays, we usually stay back for hours to gossip but I wasn't feeling it. So I invented her getting pissed off at the students because they never pull their weight and so she got into a bad mood and wanted to go home immediately. I was happy because that meant I could go home and read my YA fantasy books. I finish one per day almost. There's nothing else to do. I said it before but I don't leave the house unless it's to go to work. I might go to the supermarket, but that's it. I have no desire to go for a walk. I really need to service my car and pump my tires and fill up the wiper fluid. And go to the optometrist and the dentist but I can't bring myself to. I really need to clean out my closet. Re-string my guitar. Clean off the layer of dust on everything. If I focus in on it, it becomes real. But I don't, so it's not real. And things just work out.

I forgot some part-timer kid's name. Made a joke of it, and now she fist bumps me whenever she sees me. On New Year's day, the fridge broke down causing a temperature excursion for all the stuff in there and that meant I had to contact all the drug companies and figure out if the stock was still viable to use. It's been so busy, so I never got round to it and also I just didn't want to do it. When I came back to work last week after my time off, it had all been sorted out and I didn't have to do anything. I smirked inside my head. Today, some special injections for a patient went missing, two of them at $4000 each (it wasn't out of our own pocket, the medication was organised under compassionate supply for the patient and hence free to them, but still) and I was so feeble and indifferent on the phone explaining to the nurse that I simply don't know where the injections went. I didn't care at all. I thought 'Whatever, it's sorted'. Next thing I know, we get an email saying that more injections will get posted out to us. No worries. Awesome.

Things just work out. I don't feel guilt much anymore. I used to be such a stickler for altruism and morality but the pretence is gone. I see both sides of the coin at all times and it's boring. I'm not a good or a bad person. I just am. I have nothing left. Just this body. I focus on this body. I mean I don't exercise but I make sure I always look pretty. I do my hair. I like looking pretty. I like complaining about it afterwards, that I attracted attention. AL and I are pretty toxic like that, we go to each other and we sneer at men who leer at us. While also using the male gaze to our advantage. Men are stupid and simple and I can get away with things. My manager was too scared to ask me to deal with the fridge breech issue, so SM did it. Yeah, I'm vain. I wouldn't have made it long in this life if I had to continue living here. I don't want to age. There's nothing wrong with aging but personally, I do not want to age. Well to be honest, the real reason I wouldn't have made it long in this life is that I don't know how to look after myself because I have never, ever been tethered to reality. It was just pretending all along. Now I don't have to pretend anymore. I'm just a silly girl, really. AL and I agreed the other day that we're only alive to experience romantic tension. And to look in the mirror. Lmao. If it weren't for my parents, I would have died years ago. I mean, it feels like I was supposed to already be gone by now. This NPC has it's functional limits. It wasn't built for more of whatever the fuck this life is.

Anyway yeah, there's nothing left to live for. Except, maybe beauty. And that's it. I have Venus in Libra, what can I say? I enjoy beauty of every kind. Not the world though. Not planet Earth. Maybe's there's still pockets of beauty out there in the natural world but I don't go looking for it anymore. Trees and ponds and shit are dead. I'm talking about all the things that were inspired by the world, but are not really of it. Never really were. Books, poetry, film, music, photography, paintings, fashion. The idea of love. Being in love with the idea of love. To me, this has never changed. It has always been my constant. These things were never 'real' before and they aren't 'real' now. It was always just something imagined, out of hope or whatever. We created an escape through the creation of beautiful things because all along, we have always been dissatisfied. The ground we stood upon was never enough. And that feeling, it needed to come out. I was born with it.

[mediocremxm]

Rakall Shopping Spree!

After two weeks, Solart is back and better than ever! And by ‘better than ever’, of course I mean we are having to get back into the swing of the game and our characters with a shopping episode. As it should be!

Although we had our mission to find the individuals who cause the death and explosion of Ullivan the alchemist, instead our first decision was to find see the local shopping scene, and although that seemed like a waste of time, we actually used it to our benefit! Our first stop was the Red Wind Forge, a blacksmith shop that was ran by an individual we had met the night prior at the tavern: Kim! A blacksmith whose friend we beat in a drinking contest. The point of this was to have a relatively friendly face who we could ask questions with, which unfortunately did not come up with anything of major use. Ullivan didn’t interact with a lot of people in town and didn’t have anything that could relate to enemies, and the only suspicious characters were, as everyone is already thinking, the strange group of back robed individuals. With no information to help us, we decided to leave, but not before Aurora bought a Chain Shirt of Comfort, an extremely comfortable chain armor shirt that prevents the wearer from experiencing extreme heat or extreme cold. Once again; Aurora is boujee.

After the blacksmith, the party wanted to visit the town herbalist for Adrienne and her alchemical crafting, but unfortunately we find that the store was closed for the time being. The herbalist lady was in the forest near the city collecting supplies. So, for now, we decided to move on to the next store we were able to: The general store!

Giggles Goods was the name of the store, and this place was a ride. Upon entering the lights go out as a voice from nowhere began to call out and threaten us, accusing us of being thieves and scoundrels. Unfortunately, Seth and Sav were way too fast trying to calm the situation down instead of panicking, and the lights came back on as the voice admitted to just being bored and wanting to mess with people because it is funny. From the floor rose the source of the voice, a very strange fae creature wearing a black hood and cloak that disguised his entire body. This entity was Giggles, and he sold a plethora of really weird items for a general store, but that was not a problem as - and I am breaking my oath as an unbiased storyteller to say this - he was my favorite NPC so far. The store was mostly humorous, but Savadar did end up purchasing a Hat of Endless Rocks. It is very self-explanatory. He wants to make bolas, because as a Kishi he can produce silk!

The last store on the list was a magic shop, and one that absolutely nobody in the party could afford anything due to the fact that, again, it’s a magic store and everything was exceptionally far too much money. The owner, a four-armed Merfolk gentleman named Bezzeaf did defend himself and apologized but, well, man has to make a profit somehow. Thankfully, and surprisingly, only one item really spoke to anyone, and it made Savadar, the very levelheaded spider, mildly angry. A Physician’s Pendant, an item that, if rolled a 4 on a d4, would allow any healing spell to not take a spell slot as well as add an additional hit dice of healing for the spell. Something that would be extremely useful to Savadar, the party’s healer, and he would have bought if he did not spend the money on the Hat of Endless Rocks. Buyers remorse is real in this world. Despite not being able to spend any money, Seth was able to smooth talk his way to borrowing a book from Bezzeaf, one about giants and giantkin for some reason, not giving an explanation for it at the time.

With our main shopping finished for the time, we returned to the herbalist shop were, once again, she was absent, and this was actually making a good few people who needed the shop mildly upset and concerned. Being the noble heroes that we are along with any excuse to get out of this town, we took it upon ourselves to search for this woman, heading out into the forest and following her trails. This was obvious leading to some form of attack so we might have meta-gamed and prepared ourselves for an attack, although nobody was ready for what exactly happened next. When coming across a strange outcropping of land that stuck up nearly fifty feet in the air with the herbalist’s footsteps stopping at the base of it, the party was instantly surrounded by not only four run of the mill wolves, but also two goo monsters in the shape of wolves that clearly seemed to control the other wolves through fear and dominance. At this, we ended, and next we shall jump immediately into combat.

Also no art this week because a shopping themed stream is sort of difficult to make something for, at least for my stupid brain.

[naomixhill]

6 December 2022

19 October 2022

It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I am screaming on my bathroom floor as blood breaks through the bandages on my freshly shattered foot. I am all but waterboarding the upper part of my body into an ice bath trying to reduce my temperature, but can’t stop screaming, can’t stop bleeding, can’t stop vomiting. You are out of town. I won’t know until months later that you’re in Pittsburgh when you are supposed to be in Cleveland, visiting your grandmother freshly admitted into a hospital. But A, the psychiatrist, my best friend, she is here. And she continues to coo, this pain is temporary. You are safe. It is going to be okay. as I continue to throw up and scream into the night.

The only thing I want is your embrace.

I was only a few weeks out from an NPC bodybuilding competition. I was finally going to be on stage and take back ownership of my body after being assaulted in Arizona. But you don’t know what happened. No one does. As luck would have it, I dropped a 225 pound barbell on my foot earlier today and was hospitalized most of the day. But you don’t know about that, either.

20 October 2022

My parents came to town. My mother’s presence only makes the situation worse, but I can’t turn them away. My best friend, A, she is here; Z, the software engineer, he’s here, too. We planned to have a  family dinner, as in the kind with your chosen family, while you were out of town. Instead, it is spent with my father asking Z about work, admiring him, and asking A about her work in psychology. He hates her liberal politics, but seems to respect her intellect and wit.

Once they leave, A tells me, come on Naomi, we have to get those bloody bandages off you from last night. I try to bargain with her: I will do anything for this foot not to be touched. It is throbbing and I am on opioids and high on marijuana, but can’t mute the pain at all. She encourages Z to sit on rim of the bath tub and hold me back as she unbandages the blood-filled, sopping blood-filled, cloth. They catch on the wounds of my foot, eventually exposing my poorly stitched together big toe. I almost lost it.

Z runs his fingers through my hair and plays my favorite YouTube playlist. He tells me he realizes he’s not you, but he will love me with everything he has because I deserve to be loved. I shriek in pain as blood hits the bath tub basin, and recoil into his arms. I vomit over his lap in agony.

When I come to myself again, we are all laying in Our bed, and A has put on my favorite season of Gossip Girl. Z is holding me, A is holding me. I am squeezed in the middle.

27 October 2022

I am admitted into the Panhandle’s best outpatient surgery facility. You are with me only because someone is required to drive me home later in the day. As the nurse preps me for surgery, you continue to type away on your laptop and take an incoming call from a lender. You’re working hard over there, just having come back from another trip to Cleveland. Needles puncture all of my veins throughout my right and left arms. I am scared, I am really scared; I don’t know if I am going to lose part of my foot yet, but you are somewhere else entirely. I look over to you from time to time for comfort. But you are nowhere to be found.

When I wake up from operation and am finally carted back into the recovery room, I ask you to borrow your phone to call my parents. And there she is: Divya. I have never seen or heard of the name before, but she is there. And you’re talking about having babies with her-- six to be exact. Her message pops up on your phone. But I am on Fetanyl, and I am on anesthesia, and I gaslight myself into thinking it’s nothing.

29 October 2022

I feel like a burden because I can’t do anything for myself. If i need water, I need you to get it. I can’t feed myself. I am in endless agony that no drug is strong enough to control. You mostly ignore me, watching sports and reading Twitter, and passively telling me that it will be okay.

As we go outside to the balcony to smoke a bowl, you mention in passing that you think it would be best for me to stay at A’s while I recover. So I limp into your truck, let you take me there, and now I live in the basement of an aged building with mold on the walls, radon in the air, and cum stains on the carpet. There is no money in psychiatry and this proves it. My guest room is dark, damp, and has only a mattress, a week of clothes, a company computer, my medicine, and my lizard. 

2 November 2022

I am supposed to go to Chicago for work tomorrow. I am only a few days post-op, but the vice president has requested that i speak at a conference there. I look like shit. No one is feeding me. I can hardly bathe myself. So, I do my best to get into a car, and drive to a nearby esthetician to work on my eyebrows. I figure it’s the least offensive thing I can do to look immediately better.

Outside of my appointment, walking back to my rusted Ford in the dark of Tallahassee, a group of men surround me and yell at me for me to give them my wallet. I refuse and they take turns beating the shit out of me. One pulls out a car key and shoves it straight into my cornea.

When it’s all over, I can no longer see out of my left eye from the damage. It feels like shards of glass are repeatedly stabbing me, and I break down crying behind a Publix. It must take me an hour before I can walk again and get to my car.

When I get home, Z and A are watching a film on her new projector. When they see my eye, bulging and red, they immediately ask what happened and I blame it on the esthetician losing her grip and hitting me with her tweezers. There are no noticeable rips or bruises on my skin that they can see. No one knows what really happened.

I close my bedroom door and cry. Z comes in and tries to console me, but it is of no use. No one understands why I am really crying. All I want is to see you.

I text you but you never reply.

3 November 2022

The following day, I have to go to an emergency eye doctor to evaluate the damage to my eye. He tells me that I may lose up to ninety percent of my vision without surgery. He dilates both eyes, and puts a patch on the impacted one. I call you from the parking lot to ask for your help to pick me up. You say that you’re training the new hire and can’t come.

The next thirty minutes are one of the scarier moments of my life as I swerve in and out of traffic with only one dilated eye and one working foot.

4 December 2022

I have seen you only twice in a month. We are at an Indian restaurant when I tell you that my surgical boot is coming off tomorrow, and I would love to come home. I am scared here. I don’t want to be here anymore. I just want to be home with you. In. My. Home. That you kicked me out of. Two days post-op. Mid samosa bite, as I chew potatoes and carrots and fried bread, you tell me that we need to break up. That we want different things.

I suppose I should have seen this coming, but it is still a shock. And it’s a far worse blow to my being than the foot or eye.

6 December 2022

Where are you, now?

[piastrinorris]

An Unambiguous Love [1/10]: First Day Out Front

:: 1 :: 2 :: 3 :: 4 :: 5 :: 6 :: 7 :: 8 :: 9 :: 10 ::

alternate AO3 link

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson x f!Reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: Your favourite customers really make it easier returning to the town you never went to school in. If only your friends at work would stop trying to play matchmaker between you.

Chapter 1 word count: 2428

A/N: Ahh, here it is! The thing I keep saying has been kicking my ass lately!! I really hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I've ultimately enjoyed writing it. Also big big love to @denim-mixtapes for beta-ing/de-British-ing the things I write.

“Heads up!” You look up at the source of the command you just heard to witness a paper ball leave your colleague Jesse’s hand, swing through the air as though in slow motion, and collide directly with your forehead. You give him a stern look, and he smirks while shaking with laughter. “I mean, I did warn you.”

You flip him off, “Way to kick off my first day on the shop floor.”

“I am your mentor out here, I need to prepare you for anything. Be grateful it wasn’t a figurine, that would have hurt,” Jesse points out. “Nah, it’s easy enough out here. You’ll even be able to run shifts all by yourself in no time.”

You hold up your index finger this time, “Correction, you could in no time. You know how many dirty looks I get just from saying the word comic in front of most men?”

He pulls a face. “I’m sure most of our customers are just like me, and I’m one of those female-ists! I let you join my D&D campaign, remember? That was great!”

You think back to the group containing mostly your fellow employees, and a couple of other guys around your age from Jesse’s past, who may not have directly said anything against you, but who certainly treated his poorly-written female NPCs far worse than his mediocrely-written male ones, constantly trying to pursue them until Jesse would throw a tantrum and refuse to “flirt'' with his players. Instead of arguing, you simply opt to look down so he doesn’t see the resigned expression that so badly insists on creeping along your face.

As you’re looking down, you notice the crumpled up paper isn’t just plain, it’s a half-written Dungeons and Dragons character sheet. Curious as to why it was abandoned, you unfurl it and read the first box.

Name: Steve Harr Bashemall

You chuckle at a half-orc fighter being essentially called "bash them all". You never really made any lasting friends before you moved out of Hawkins in your elementary years, and you and your family moved back just after you graduated high school, but this town's small enough that you know who Steve Harrington, King of Hawkins High is. He works at the Family Video right opposite your store, with the clumsy girl who you once literally bumped into on one of your trash runs after you had to deal with a delivery of misprints. She had at least helped you run around the blustery parking lot collecting them all back up again, and you'd sworn you could never show your face in front of him again after seeing the silhouette of his broad shoulders and swooping hair in the store window, clearly watching you run around like a headless chicken. 

Jesse sees you reading the sheet and chuckles. "Ah, is that Harrington's garbage? Yeah, I was here when he came in with that, uh… Trailer boy. Munson."

"You say that like I'm just supposed to know them," you retort.

Jesse shrugs, "Anyway, Munson got his wires crossed, thought it was last week that we were launching D&D supplies. Brought in his own blank character sheet to, what was it he said? 'Keep Stevie busy', or something." You allow yourself a small laugh at the nickname. "But obviously that was pretty short-lived. He kept trying to name his character real boring names like Brian until -" Jesse makes some kind of unintelligible groan. "Until I said it might suit him to play an unassuming human rogue with a deadly secret, but he called that “pretentious” until he started yelling "Bash 'em! I wanna bash 'em all! That's my character!" so Munson told him to write it down. I don't think they got too much farther with it. I only found it 'cause I realised just now I hadn't thrown it away, it was just trash."

You fold it away and tuck it into a drawer in your desk. There's a very brief character description, if it gets quiet you could always use some extra drawing practice.

The morning goes by pretty smoothly, the register is easy enough to use, the clientele haven't been too harsh. Which means Jesse has “decided” to let you fly solo until someone else takes over. "I can’t stay anyway, I, uh… I’ve told Cam already that I’ve got a migraine coming on.” If he’s telling the truth, he’s weirdly unaffected for someone whose symptoms are so bad he apparently can’t work any longer. “It's not like you're on your own, Tiffany's just dealing with this week's delivery out back, you can call on her if you really need anything!" he calls over his shoulder as the door hits the bell that dangles just above it.

Sighing in resignation, you shout out, “Tiff?”

“One second, hun!” The other female player in Jesse’s D&D campaign calls out.

“Oh, it’s all good as long as you can hear me. Just thought I’d tell you Jesse’s gone for the day. Says it’s a migraine.”

You hear the clatter of something being dropped and soon after, Tiffany rushedly appears at the back room door. “What a jerk! You want me to put a word in with the big guy about him?”

You shake your head. “I’ll be fine, I’m sure. Cameron’s in the office today, and I don’t want him to think I need my hand held all the time. Just wanted to check that you were within shouting distance if I needed you for something.”

Tiffany pads over and reaches around behind your back to give you a quick squeeze of encouragement. “I’ll always have your back here! Especially over my lame-ass brother,” she pulls a face and you laugh. Fresh into high school, Tiffany has all the nerdy know-how Jesse does, and thankfully a far more palatable personality. “And don’t be scared of Cameron. He’s cool when he wants to be.” 

“Yeah, I know. I just spent… So damn long in that back room. I don’t want to cause trouble on my first day out.” You sigh. 

“I’m gonna miss having my behind-the-scenes sister with me!” Tiff pouts.

You grin, “Just makes us the dream team now, right?”

“The face and the brains!” She mirrors your expression, pointing at you and then herself, and runs off before she can see your borderline offended look.

A little while after noon hits, after a dull enough morning that you’ve been spending your time absent-mindely drawing, the doorbell tolls. You look up to see the familiar silhouette of a stocky man with perfect hair, but this time you can see his warm eyes and chiselled jaw. He at first goes straight for the comic section, thumbing through different boxes with his tongue poking his cheek out and looking confused.

“Need some help?” You offer, and he gets snapped out of his trance to look at you for the first time. His expression when he locks eyes with you is so much softer than you were expecting from the charismatic reputation that has preceded him.

“Uh, yeah, actually, sorry. Friend of mine wanted me to pick him up a… number 200 Lantern? Said I should get here nice and early in case it sells out fast. Apparently it’s a big one?” he asks, blowing air through his lips in a rasp and holding his arm out in a half-shrug.

For a moment, you understand the power trip that knowing more than someone else can have, but you’re no Jesse. Instead, you nod understandingly. “Got it, Green Lantern #200. Yeah, it’s literally a big one. Poor Tiff’s been fighting with them all day back there,” you gesture with your head to the back room door. “They came in this morning, but they don’t hit the shelves until tomorrow. Same day the D&D stuff gets out, too. Sorry.”

He groans, “Stupid Dustin, getting the date wrong… Sorry for wasting your time,” he states as he wanders up to your counter. He notices that you’re drawing something and leans over to look. “I’m Steve, by the - oh,” he stops suddenly when he recognises the crumpled up paper you���ve been using for reference. “Is that -”

You don’t usually embarrass easily, but your cheeks do tint pink. “Uh, yeah, one of my colleagues used this sheet as a missile and I figured since I haven’t had much practice drawing orcs - or half-orcs, in this case - I could give it a go.”

“So this is what Bashemall looks like, huh?” he asks, swivelling himself around to angle his point of view to look at it from your perspective. “That’s amazing.”

“Well, ultimately only you know that. I’m just going by what little is written here, and some reference of my own knowledge of orcs’ anatomy. Um, you haven’t really said anything about hair, though, so I’m not sure what would look best on him…” you study your sketchbook page, tilting your head from side to side as you try to imagine different hairstyles on him.

“Well, I mean, I put enough effort into my own hair that I’d like to think it would look good no matter what kind of face I had, so… Maybe he could have hair like mine?”

You look back up at him, eyes narrowing as you study the way his hair looks for a moment. “Sure, I could do that,” you nod. “Mind if I use you as reference, or do you gotta head back?”

“Ah, Robin can cope without me for a few minutes,” he waves off before snorting a quick chuckle out of a half-smile. “She, uh, she’s the one who helped you whip the parking lot back into shape a couple weeks back.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Wow, so you are the one who just stood watching in the window! How heroic,” you smile sarcastically and he laughs harder. “Alright, well, I’ve been drawing this guy at a ¾ view so if you could just move your head…” you try and gesture with your hands how you want his head positioned, but he doesn’t seem to be getting it. Instead, you opt for using the end of your pencil to push his jaw up slightly, then across slightly until it’s angled just right.

“You need me to make a face for you?” Steve asks, immediately cycling through an array of facial expressions.

You giggle, “Not for the drawing, but for my own entertainment, sure!” He continues pulling faces until you’ve sketched a full head of hair. You hold your sketchbook up and he finally breaks pose to look at it in full.

His face is filled with admiration. “This is so good! Almost makes me want to pick it up. Almost,” he points at you, eyes wide. “But not totally. It’s still very much Munson’s and the kids’ thing,” he shakes his head. “I can’t wrap my head around it all.”

“Well, then, I’m super honoured that you entertained the idea of me drawing a D&D character that’ll never see the light of day,” you smile, before having an idea. Holding a single finger up, you ask, “Please hold just a second,” before slinking back to the back room.

You open the door to find Tiff backing away, far closer than she should have been if she were at her post. “Is that the Steve Harrington out there I hear?!”

“Yeah… Yeah,” you nod, half-distractedly. Despite the fact he’s only a door away, part of you just wants him back in your field of vision as soon as possible. Looking over at the manager’s office’s closed door, trying to stay out of its earshot, you ask in a hushed tone, “Uh, hey, I don’t suppose you could slide me a copy of Green Lantern a day early? I’ll make sure it all gets paid for, I jus-”

“Say no more,” Tiffany singsongs as she presses a copy into your chest. “Just remember to ask me to be your maid of honour.”

You roll your eyes at her as you head back out to the shop floor. You toss the issue onto the counter and gesture to it. “There you go. For being such a good model. Don’t go telling anybody you got it a day early, though.”

Steve gasps deeply, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Oh, I’m definitely gonna be Henderson’s favourite for this! Thanks, I seriously owe you!”

You narrow your eyes, “I literally just said this makes up for letting me draw your hair! You don’t owe me shit now.”

“Oh no, trust me, you have no idea what this is going to do to my reputation. I still owe you so hard,” Steve picks the issue up and tucks it beneath his jacket.

“Just… Maybe come back every once in a while? It’d be nice to have a friendly face around every now and again to chat to,” you suggest.

Steve salutes, “You got it…” He leans in to read your name badge and calls you by name. Huh, guess you forgot to introduce yourself. Maybe you should be doing that more. 

He rushes out of the store, back to his own workplace, and you step back to rap your knuckles against the back room door. “You can come out now, Tiff,” you murmur just loud enough to be heard on the other side.

Sure enough, Tiffany opens the door just enough to poke her head through the gap. “Oh my  god, he is so into you.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “Please, he’s just being friendly. There was nothing flirty about anything either of us said.”

“Exactly!” Tiffany hisses. “If I know anything about Steve Harrington, from what I’ve heard, he usually flirts so hard! You clearly make him nervous, he’s obviously intimidated by you. Trust me.”

“You want me to ‘trust’ what you’ve ‘heard’ about someone who graduated last year, before you were even at that school?” you ask in disbelief, shaking your head. “He just seemed like he was being nice. I dunno. It’d be cool to have a friend outside of here, too.”

“Well, I’m still gonna have hope,” Tiffany shrugs as she sneaks back to her work.

When your shift finally ends, as you get to your car you look up at Family Video one last time to see Steve at the window. He lifts his hand to just in front of his chest to give you a small wave goodbye with a soft smile to match. You wave back, feeling a sensation of warmth emanate all through your body.

[softsnzstuff]

Obsessed with content creator Steve! And very obsessed with his boyfriend trying to get him into bed! Now I’m imagining how Steve would react with Eddie as the sick one. Constantly leaving to check on his bf, noticing him in the chat and telling him to go to sleep, cutting the stream short to take care of him. The whole world is so cute.

Hi Anon! Sorry this has taken so long!!

****

“Thanks for joining the stream everyone! Nothing crazy today, just playing some Mario Kart to kill time.” Steve made eye contact with the camera and smiled before turning his attention back to the stream.

“Why aren’t you playing with Eddie?” One viewer asked in the comments.

Steve noticed the message and looked back to the camera, “Someone went and got himself sick. He’s just in the next room resting.”

A flow of heart reacts and comments came rushing in.

“Feel better Eddie!”

“Poor guy, maybe next week.”

One message in particular made Steve do a double take:

“Thanks for the comments guys, I’m okay. Be back soon. -E”

Steve paused the game and looked towards the other room and then looked into the camera, “Eddie get off my stream! You’re supposed to be resting.”

Through the livestream, a faint response could be heard, “I am resting! I’m just also watching you. That counts.”

“Man, I can’t do a stream if I know you’re not getting your rest.”

No response.

Steve looked at the chat - “Don’t worry your pretty little head about me. Everything’s fine. -E”

The younger man rolled his eyes, resuming the game. Viewers could see Steve’s screen. He was playing as Shy Guy in the lightweight pipe car.

“Watch out for that banana!!”

“Cmon, Harrington can’t come in second!”

“Only one lap left!”

In the background, faint but painful sounding coughs could be heard.

“Is that Eddie?? Is he okay?”

Steve sighed, “Yeah that’s Eds. Hang on guys I’ll be right back.”

Steve paused the game and got up once he finished lap 3. He walked into the next room where Eddie was sprawled on their couch, watching the livestream on his phone. He was rubbing his throat, wincing from the recent coughing jag.

“Here babe, take some more of this.” Steve picked up a bottle of cough medicine off the counter and handed it to his boyfriend.

“Thanks Stevie.” The older man rasped. “You didn’t have to pause your stream.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, “yeah I did. You sound like shit, Munson. Wanna take care of you.”

“I can come sit in the room with you. So you know I’m resting?”

Steve nodded and retreated back to his gaming setup, putting the headphones back on. Eddie followed close behind, plopping himself on the futon in the background, barely visible.

“Eddie’s gonna sit in with us for the next race guys.” Steve smiled and flipped through the different course options. He settled on Luigi’s Mansion and queues up the race.

“Nxxt! H’nnnxt! NGT’chiew!” Eddie ducked into the collar of his shirt at the unexpected triple. He sniffled and then looked at Steve’s camera. “Sorry!”

Steve turned around, “Bless you, Eds.”

That was enough to set the chat off:

“Bless you!”

“Aw poor bb…”

Steve was halfway through lap two when Eddie started that god awful coughing again. Steve tried to turn around and look while keeping an eye on the race, concern visibly filling his chest.

Eddie cleared his throat once the fit had stopped. He noticed Steve’s backwards glances every now and then. “I’m fine Steve. You’re lucky I’m down for the count or I’d be whipping your ass at Mario Kart right now.”

Steve rolled his eyes and shook his head, focusing on finishing in first place. He had a turtle shell queued up and aimed perfectly to knock the NPC out of the running.

“YES!” Steve threw his hands in the air when he crossed the finish line.

In the background, Eddie exhaustedly pumped his fist in celebration, “Yay Steve!” He coughed, “Hissshiew! NG’tchiew! HAGT’schiew!”

“Bless you times three.” Steve turned back to the stream, “Alright everyone. This guys looking a little worse for wear. I think I’m gonna sign off and get him to bed.”

Steve said his sign off as final messages came in:

“Feel better soon! Get some rest!”

“Lots of fluids!!”

Eddie used both hands to blow a kiss at the camera as Steve shut down the stream.

“Alright Eddie, time for you to get some actual rest.” Steve helped him up by the elbow as Eddie scrubbed at his nose with the back of his hand.

“SnFF, yep soun’ds like a plan to m’be…”

[eclairia-monarch]

Protector [3] | 聖臣 Sakusa X f!reader

I appreciate all the reblogs, likes and new followers, truly! Hopefully my posts aren’t too boring XD 

word count: approx. 2.2k words

summary: Sakusa only wanted to focus on volleyball and had no time for romance, but what would he do if you, his long term crush that he himself didn’t realize, was in grave danger?

warning: potential stalker, harasser if you look HARD enuf. all of you always be safe IRL okay. 

disclaimer: all but the story plot belong to their rightful artist/author.

Previous | Haikyuu HC Masterlist | Haikyuu Series Masterlist

It has been a few days since you came back to Japan and your streaming schedule was in full effect. With your new home fully stocked, your parents and siblings finally stopped worrying about you as much as they initially were. Today, you were invited down to the gym by Hinata, who seemed to have convinced his coach to let you visit. Because you used to manage Karasuno, coach Foster figured you wouldn’t pose too much of a problem for their training. Besides, you were going to be editing your videos whilst they were all training, and help with miscellaneous tasks when needed. 

As usual, you had your mask on for the sake of privacy (having a famous bro wasn’t exactly all sunshine and rainbows) since now whatever you do, gossip tabloids would drag Tobio’s name using you. It happened once after Tobio’s national team debut. You were hanging out with him and Ushijima after grabbing dinner once, not knowing some nosy paparazzi were following nearby. Tobio went to a nearby bathroom whilst you and Ushijima conversed. It was awkward, since you’ve never officially meet the wing spiker before that day, and had only heard of him through your older brother.

But you being you, wanting to befriend your brother’s teammate, asked Ushijima to lean down towards you, and you whispered an embarrassing secret of Tobio to the dark olive-brown haired man, who smiled and chuckled at it. Perhaps it was at that moment, at a certain angle, it looked as though you two were having an intimate moment as soon that photo spread throughout the volleyball sphere. 

It didn’t exactly take a toll on any of you nor your family since everyone knew that you were just telling him something, and even Ushijima himself almost accidentally spill Tobio’s secret in order to prove everyone’s innocence. Thankfully, the whole thing blown over in a few weeks, and the tabloid that published such false accusation was receiving tons of negative review on their reporting. Ever since then, you just figured wearing a mask would reduce any hassle, and afterwards it just became a habit to wear a mask. 

As you made your way, you felt stares on you. You quickened your steps, chopping up to you being overly sensitive after having lived overseas for a period of time. 

“This is Japan,” you reminded yourself over and over again as you reached the said gym.

“Good morning, [y/n]-chan!” Atsumu smiled as he exited his car and saw you walking towards the entrance. 

“Good morning to you, too, Tsumsterz. How was your lyre playing session with Alexa?” you smiled cheekily, leading to Atsumu flicking your forehead. 

“Leave me alone, okay!? Bokuto was bawling his eyes out over a NPC, too!”

“Yeah, but Teppei was an NPC, and Hinata said you cried-”

“Uh, uh, uh! You never hear that, you got me?!” Atsumu snapped in embarrassment, face red from getting exposed. He had his hands over your mask to physically shut you up, not wanting to remember anything.

“Stop blocking the way, Miya,” a deep voice said, and the two turned around to see Sakusa standing at a distance with his brows furrowed, which was directed at Atsumu. 

He ignored Atsumu’s retorts and stared at your appearance. Today, you had a simple tee shirt tucked into your high waist jean along with a long coat to shield you from the morning wind.

“Good morning, Sakusa-san. You two should probably head in,” you said and tightened your hold around your laptop sleeve, unknowing shrinking closer to Atsumu as you felt his intense gaze.

“Yes, good morning to you too, [y/n]-san,” Sakusa nodded his head and eyed at the proximity you and Atsumu shared. 

Having the verification of both members by the security, you were given the temporary pass holder and entered the gym. Within, Coach Foster, Hinata and Bokuto has already arrived, leaving only Meian and the five others to turn up, but they were still an hour early. You made your way to the coach and introduced yourself, to which he joked about how he wanted to meet you since his players seemed to talk about you non-stop prior to your arrival.

“I didn’t mean to cause any chaos! I do sincerely apologize!”

“Oh no, no, it’s fine. It’s nice to know Sakusa is widening his social circle,” the coach said with a fatherly smile. “Did he make you wear a mask, too, or...?”

“No, I’ve been wearing this to avoid people recognizing me as Kageyama Tobio’s sister. Saves the trouble, you know?”

“Oh, so you’re Kageyama [y/n]. Pleasure to finally meet you,” Foster laughed. You gave him a questioning look, to which he explained that your name was no stranger in this team because of how much Hinata and Bokuto spoke of your time as the manager back then and how you managed to whip into line. “Who knows? I might need your help some day soon so just observe my players if you can, yeah?” He then pointed to the bleachers right near the workout room, “that’s the best view if you want.”

And by best view, the coach meant watching the players working out their muscles later on. He ain’t slick, but you weren’t going to argue about it.

“Oh, alright. Just call me if you need any assistance, I’ll do my best,” you offered before heading to the stand to get started on editing. Since Kozume’s stream was shorter than yours from last night, you got started on his VOD. You would occasionally look over to your friends and they would wave at you in between reps, as a way to ensure you weren’t too bored out of your mind. You, on the other hand, made sure the guys weren’t pushing too hard. They might have grown up but you knew their hearts were that of children still, especially with anything relating to volleyball.

Having been doing this for years, you were quite speedy with your editing and managed to complete your work way before the break hours whilst watching over the players. You shot to your feet and stretched, releasing all tension from your muscles.

“Kageyama, mind helping me look after their weight training for a while? I need to handle some calls in the back office,” Foster called to you, and you immediately agreed to do so, making your way down. 

Your eyes immediately trailed over to the near empty bottles scattered on the nearby floor. Seeing such familiar scenes got your instinct to come back again, but of course, you made sure to get their permission since you knew Sakusa was very particular about others’ hygiene. 

Meian felt bad about you even trying to help because they were all grown ass men, but Hinata and Bokuto didn’t hesitate to shove their bottles into your hand. “Good old times!”

“Yeah, good old times. Want me to get someone to kick you too? For good old times?” You asked and pulled down your mask.

A shiver travelled down Hinata’s spine as he recalled your brother’s unsettling grin back in high school. Actually, scratch that, he still has a terrifying grin. “Calm down, I’m done with work, so I’m free the whole day! Anyway, is everyone alright with me filling up the bottles?”

Sakusa excused himself from his own workout station and came up to you, saying that he wanted to refill it on his own, and showed you the location of the cooler. 

“Oh? Sure it’s not because you want to spend some alone time with [y/n]-chan?” Bokuto smirked, only to receive a cold glare from Sakusa, who replied that he had already finished his rep. 

The walk to the water cooler wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t the most comfortable either. Besides, you really wanted to speak to Sakusa, you always have, but there was never a reason to. But right now, with him being Hinata’s teammate, it was a good enough reason, right?

“Erm, Sakusa-san, did you not wish to have shabu-shabu?” You asked, really wanting to know the reason for his absence.

“I just don’t want to hang out all the time with those energetic bunches,” Sakusa said with a lot of self censoring. He didn’t want you to see him as a mean person since he isn’t, just very blunt about his dislikes. 

“I see, that’s a shame,” you smiled and hid your quiet snickering beneath your mask. “I was hoping we can be friends. Also, pay back the favour of you picking me up from the airport. I know you didn’t willingly do it, so at least let me treat you to a meal?”

“That won’t be needed. I was promised a month worth of Lysol, and hand sanitizers, so I am okay with it.”

“Hm, I see,” you replied softly, unable to hide away your disappointment. You reached the water cooler and allowed Sakusa to refill his bottle first while you checked on your merchandise status. It seemed the stocks were running low again. 

With your tweet sent, you quickly filled up the bottles for the players and made your way back.

“Boss called you or something?” Sakusa asked, having saw you speaking to someone on the phone.

“Boss? Ah, no, I’m self-employed,” you answered with a proud smile and looked up at him, “so if you ever change your mind and want to hang out, I’m always free! Of course, I mean just you and me. Don’t feel pressured about anything, I’m fine with anything.”

“…I’ll consider,” Sakusa replied after processing your words. You weren’t pushy, and seemed to be aware of keeping a good distance from him. He appreciated that you were a face mask, even if you weren’t doing it for the same reason he was. Not to mention you were easy on the eye and let’s not forget your voice was rather soothing to listen to. It wasn’t annoying nor loud, and if he was to be forced to befriend someone new, you would be the number one candidate. But still, those words sounded like you were asking him out.

Was he overthinking this friendly invite, because you seemed to adore Hinata the most so far.

Whatever, Sakusa didn’t want to dwell on it any more. 

By the time they got back, the team was done with their workout and was getting ready to wash up and head for their long break before their practice match in the late afternoon with VC Kanagawa. Coach Foster had finished with his office duties as well, and he briefed the guys on their schedule once more before letting them off.

Sakusa made it to the locker room first and the first thing he did was pull out his phone. And before he could even stop himself, he was alreadt tweeting that one question he had looped in his brain the last few minutes despite telling himself not to dwell on it. Even if there was a typo, he didn’t care; no one was on his private twitter anyway.

His fingers was slightly shaking as a foreign feeling emerged in his chest but he refused to put a label on it. Sakusa didn’t want to end up heartbroken about something he could easily avoid. It was unneccesary and a hassle to deal with such emotions. 

With the morning session ending, you sent the edited files over to Kozume for review before packing things up to leave the gym with Hinata and gang, who said he wanted to introduce you to the rest of MSBY. 

Atsumu and Bokuto immediately looked over to Sakusa, their eyes silently pleading for their teammate to join. Sakusa furrowed his brows, knowing if he ditched another hang out, he would be pestered again. Meian would most likely somehow talk him into joining anyway, and hence he found himself agreeing to come along. 

“Alright! Since we’re all going, and Kageyama-chan is joining us, meal’s on me!” Meian smiled, earning cheers from his teammates. All eleven of you guys made your way to your respective vehicles. Since they were all going to come back, Meian suggested to just share the cars. 

“I want to ride in Omi-omi’s car!” Atsumu raised his hand, followed by Bokuto echoing the same request. They were quickly shut down by a harsh glare from Sakusa, and you appeared right behind the two volleyball idiots, smacking the back of their heads lightly — a habit you had back then as a manager — telling them to stop making others uncomfortable. 

“But Omi-omi’s car is so cool! I want to ride in it at least once! You and Shoyo-kun got to do it, so why can’t we!?” Atsumu whined like a toddler.

“Because she isn’t nasty like you,” Sakusa narrowed his eyes and shoved his hands in his pockets, pulling out his car key. 

“Come on Sakusa, just one day wouldn’t hurt would it? I’m going to drive Inunaki and the others so you and your friends take yours? ” Meian asked nicely, and Sakusa involuntarily sighed, showing how he gave up and walked towards the car. 

“Fine, but all of you stay in the back seat.”

“All?” Bokuto asked, looking between you, Hinata and Atsumu. “All??”

Sakusa turned around and saw Bokuto getsuring to you, “all?”

“...[y/n], you can seat at the front.” Barely a whisper, but you heard it loud and clear from Sakusa.

You held back your laughter at the stupid interaction between Sakusa and Bokuto and said that you were actually going to book yourself a ride but Sakusa tilted his head towards his car, telling you to just get in. You nodded meekly and trailed behind him.

Hinata and Atsumu were watching this silently before they both made eye contact, a light bulb went off. 

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 1

Ding dong fannibals I’m back on my bullshit :) 

I discovered that I cannot for the life of me be concise so this one might come in a couple parts. I don't anticipate it's gonna go as long as Cult Girl but we'll see. Y/n is an introverted waitress at a fancy restaurant with a crush on a mysterious regular. An encounter with a dangerous criminal pulls her into his world.

Trigger warnings: graphic descriptions of violence; implied drug use; religiously-motivated violence.

In some ways, waitressing was the perfect job for an introvert. Customers didn’t see you as a person, they saw you as an NPC. As long as that was the case, you weren’t expected to engage with them beyond the script: you take their order, bring them the food and they, hopefully, leave a tip. To ensure that, you perfected the art of fake happiness. You were there to make money, not friends. 

Well, there was an exception to every rule. Yours was the sommelier. 

The sommelier was a regular at the restaurant, but never ordered a meal. He mostly just sat at the bar, drank expensive wine, and watched the people come and go for hours at a time. Among the waitstaff, he was a bit of a local cryptid. Waitresses whispered about the handsome gentleman with an unidentifiable accent and deep pockets. About how lucky you had to be to score a bartending shift on one of the nights he showed up. It got to the point where bartending shifts were swapped like currency, because every woman on staff wanted the chance to meet the sommelier. 

One of the more religious line chefs liked to remind you all that the devil would come as everything you could ever desire. He was fully convinced that the sommelier was Satan incarnate, and he wasn’t completely off the mark. Standing at six feet tall with features sharp enough to cut diamonds, the sommelier wouldn’t look out of place in a vampire thriller. He always dressed in dark suits. Your coworkers hypothesized this was so the bloodstains wouldn’t show. Despite the chef’s well-intended (if not condescending) warnings, even the threat of eternal damnation couldn’t scare you off. 

As much as you liked to believe you were above stupid workplace gossip, you knew you weren’t. You were never the most socially adept person, but this gave you something to connect over. It’s how you discovered that you and the other waitresses were all in the same boat; broke, lonely and in desperate need of some excitement. And if that came in the form of a wine-loving vampire taking a liking to your restaurant, there were certainly worse ways to go. 

Unfortunately, not even the chance at encountering the sommelier could make you look forward to working Easter Sunday. Your manager had you working from noon to midnight that day. As employers went, he wasn’t much of a tyrant. He offered you time and a half and even let you switch from waiting tables to bartending halfway through the shift. He, too, knew how coveted the bartending shifts were. And you weren’t in any position to refuse, either. You quite enjoyed having a roof over your head and food in your stomach. 

That didn’t make up for the fact that most of the other twenty-something employees had left for the holiday, and you were one of the few stragglers left available. Easter was the most dreaded workday of the year, because the infamous after-church crowd quadrupled in size and lasted all day. They came in double-digit parties, had no concept of birth control and tipped in prayer. Too many times had you reached for what looked like a generous cash tip, only to find that it was a church pamphlet disguised as a fifty.

You clocked in at noon exactly, after waiting for the second hand to pass the twelve just to be sure. 

“[F/N]!” Your coworker, Charissa, grabbed your attention before you could walk away. “I heard you’re at the bar this evening. Congratulations.” 

“He’s not going to show up, Charissa.” You rolled your eyes. You decided to go into this shift expecting the absolute worst, that way you wouldn’t be setting yourself up for disappointment. “It’s Easter.” 

“You don’t know that.” Charissa nudged you in the side. 

You grinned. “Why would a vampire come to dinner on the one day everyone is gonna be wearing a cross?” 

“Oh, shit, I didn’t think of that.” Charissa gasped. “Well, good luck anyway.”

The first wave of customers filing through the door and filling the restaurant with noise pushed all optimism out of your head. Sighing, you approached a person that Charissa had already seated. 

“Hi, my name is [F/N], I’ll be your server today.” You greeted the first customer in your block. “Can I get you something to drink today?” 

The man couldn’t have been a day over twenty-five, if that. He was still lively in a way that meant he hadn’t experienced the drain that was a minimum wage job. He was wearing a shirt that said ‘on fire for Christ’ under a flannel with no buttons. One look and you knew he wasn’t going to tip. 

The man flashed a row of eerily white teeth. “I thought you said you would bring the wine?” 

You momentarily thought you’d already taken his drink order and shook your head. “I’m sorry, did I--”

“Ah, I see your confusion.” The man shrugged and forced a laugh. “You’re waitressing this week, you and I are going on a date next week. My mistake.” 

Great. You thought. It hasn't even been five minutes and I'm already being gaslit.

Any interaction that forced you to go off-script was bad, but this was a particularly irritating diversion. “Would you like to see a wine list?”

“I’m Chase.” He said. “It’s nice to meet you, [F/N].” 

“Have you decided on a drink?” You repeated, trying not to grit your teeth too obviously. 

"I'll have a glass of your finest coke, please." He faked an English accent, poorly.

"We only carry Pepsi products." You said, dreading how this joker would react to such a minor inconvenience.

He threw his head back and made a face like he had just taken a bullet to the chest. "No, it's gotta be coke! It's coke or nothing!"

"Did you want something else, then?" You tried to hurry him along. "The bartender makes a very nice mimosa-"

He smacked the table as if he had some urgent question. "McDonald's or Chick-Fil-A? There is a right answer, so choose wisely."

"...uh," You mumbled, just praying that he would order a drink already. There wasn't even a Chick-fil-A in the area. "I like McDonald's."

Again, he acted like he was shot in the chest. "Oh, you're down zero to two!"

"If you need a few minutes to select a drink," You said. "I can come back-"

He grabbed your arm and forced a laugh. "I'm just kidding around with you, [F/N]. Pepsi is fine."

You scribbled the order down on your notepad, mostly just to pry your wrist from his grip. You wanted to go into the bathroom and scrub yourself down, but perhaps it was just easier to chop the whole arm off. That way you could get worker's compensation, too.

The tables were filling up and you had spent far too long coaxing a drink order out of this youth pastor creep. You had actual families to wait on. The shift was off to a horrible start.

You made him wait for as long as you could get away with. You took drink orders from three full booths before returning to the youth pastor. Because you knew he was raring to corner you again.

You planted the pop in front of him, the glass already wet with condensation. "Have you decided on a meal?"

"I was just looking over this menu and something caught my eye." He began, looking at the holiday menu your manager had printed off. "This rack of lamb, it's a special, right?"

"Right." You nodded. "It's a pretty large meal, though, so I'd recommend sharing it-"

"No, y'see.." he cut you off. "Jesus was the lamb of god. He died on the cross for your sins. And, look!"

He pointed to the menu. "It says it's a 'praying hands' lamb!"

"Oh!" You forced yet another smile. "I can see the confusion. That just refers to how the rack is arranged."

"I think it's a sign from god." He said.

You demonstrated the shape of the dish with your fingers. "See, the rib bones are long and the racks are Frenched, so the dish takes the shape of a pair of, well, praying hands."

"I'll take it." He nodded furiously.

He took a sharp breath in through his nose and you started to seriously wonder if his definition of "coke or nothing" had a double meaning. It formulated in your head as a joke, but it became more and more of a serious inquiry by the minute.

You leaned in just slightly to get a closer look at his face. Some details you hadn't noticed before were beginning to come into focus. His eyes were vacant and glassy. A small but noticeable stream of blood trickled from his nostril.

"Sir?" You said in a clear, projected voice. "Is there someone I could call for you?"

He turned his head. "Jesus died for your sins."

You looked around the room for any sign of your manager, a supervisor or anyone with a shred of authority. "This man needs help!"

In your haste to call attention to the situation, you didn't see him pick up his steak knife.

"You want to know what Jesus felt when you pierced him?" He muttered, just loud enough for your ears alone.

You felt the serrated knife puncture your skin before you had time to process his words. The pain shot through your body, making you freeze in place.

A chorus of screams filled the restaurant. Blood was pouring from the open wound in a quantity you didn't think possible. Underneath, the knife went straight through your hand and into the table.

The man gripped the handle and gave it a twist, a look of horrifying pleasure on his face. At this point, several people had stepped in to restrain him. He was tall and athletic and could easily overpower many of the other customers, which he did. He found another steak knife and began to cut throats while chanting an incomprehensible prayer.

An older woman claiming to be a doctor rushed to your side. She made a makeshift tourniquet from a napkin and a butter knife. Everything after that was a blur. You struggled to stay conscious as the woman tried to guide the knife from the table while keeping it embedded in your hand.

Soon enough, police and ambulances arrived on the scene. The woman placed you in the care of one of the many EMTs, then rushed away to assist the others.

"I'm just doing what Jesus says!" The youth pastor shouted, before gouging his knife into another man's throat. "Spreading his love!"

The officers notably didn't open fire and made an attempt to de-escalate. Maybe that was how the youth pastor was able to escape. 

[night-filled-mountain]

Captivity and Escape in Critical Role

So this post has been sitting in my drafts for about half a year. It’s about a persistent theme I noticed throughout campaign 2, which I’m sure others have noticed and written about before, but parallels and recurring themes have always been my Thing, and I couldn’t let it go. And with last week’s episode, and the campaign finale airing tonight, and the dominance of this theme being more glaringly obvious than ever, I thought I’d just give myself a treat and finish up a giant meta post. For old times’ sake.

So, just for the heck of it, here’s an exhaustive exploration of a single through-line of campaign 2 since the very beginning: captivity, and escaping or being freed from it.

Let’s start by taking a quick look at everyone’s backstories, the things that happened to them before the campaign even started, and how they were ultimately resolved. 

FJORD: Entered unknowingly and unwillingly into a pact with Uk’otoa, which bound him to perform services he never agreed to in exchange for powers he never asked for. Fjord did not know how he got into this pact or how to get out of it. He makes his escape when he pitches his sword into a lava river and pledges himself to the Wildmother.

JESTER: Spent the majority of her life “locked in her room” (or at least hidden from sight) until the consequences of one of her pranks forcibly liberated her into the wider world. While Jester loves her mother dearly and thinks of her long “captivity” as being for her own protection, its negative effects on her--loneliness, insecurity, a lack of worldly experience and social awareness--were still apparent, and she spends much of the campaign working through them.

BEAU: Her parents had her kidnapped by monks. It could be argued that even before the kidnapping, she was a prisoner to her father’s “over-protective” tendencies and her parents’ expectations when it came to her career, behavior, gender role, etc. But most significantly, she was very much kidnapped by monks, and made her escape from the Cobalt Soul shortly before we met her.

CALEB: Where to start? First he suffered coercion and abuse at the hands of Trent (a form of captivity); then he was made to torture and execute prisoners; then he spent eleven years literally imprisoned in an asylum, and had to kill and steal in order to escape; and four and a half years later, he met Nott when they were both thrown in jail (and had to engineer their own escape once again). Caleb’s ordeals ultimately made him a prisoner of his own guilt and fear, and escaping that prison has been the heart of his storyline.

VETH/NOTT: Besides the aforementioned stint in jail, the catalyst for her entire adventuring career was being captured by goblins along with her family--and then, after engineering the escape of her husband and son, being imprisoned in the wrong body (and subsequently enslaved!). The desire to escape from this second imprisonment was her driving motivation through much of the campaign. With Caleb’s help (and Essek’s, and Jester’s), she ultimately succeeds.

MOLLY: His first memory was of clawing his way out of a grave, which is just about as extreme a form of captivity and escape as you can get. More subtly, he was also a prisoner to the expectations placed on his body--to the life that body once lived, which he could not remember and refused to claim. Arguably (and tragically), his escape from this particular prison is his own death...until Cree resurrects Lucien, Mollymauk fragment and all. Then he presumably becomes a prisoner much like Yasha was, subsumed body and soul by a mind and a will that are not his own. Until last week.

... (incoherent sobbing)

Until last week.

YASHA: She was a prisoner to her clan’s laws and expectations. Her brief attempt to escape this prison through a forbidden marriage ended tragically, and then she was forced to make a second, literal escape (fleeing into the desert)--only to be (presumably) possessed by Obann, imprisoned inside her own mind, and forced to do his bidding until the Storm Lord liberated her once again.

CADUCEUS: When the gang first meet him, he’s literally a prisoner of his own fear (and/or inertia)--though his whole family has left the Blooming Grove, he’s been too afraid or hesitant to brave the corruption of the Savalirwood without companionship, and spent years isolated in the family temple as a result. The Mighty Nein (or rather, Caleb, Nott, Beau, Keg, and Nila) initiate his escape.

***

And that’s just the backstories! Now let’s take a look at each of the places the Mighty Nein have visited since they came together, and the story arcs therein.

***

TROSTENWALD - CARNIVAL ARC: This arc’s entire goal is to free the (future) Mighty Nein and the other carnies from jail or house arrest. (Much later, the M9 come back to pay Gustav’s debt and liberate him as well.) And remember that Beau is especially sympathetic to Toya’s predicament because she, too, was once a young girl held somewhere against her will.

ALFIELD - GNOLL ARC: This arc’s entire goal is to free the citizens of Alfield who have been kidnapped by gnolls to feed to their manticore leader (and to kill off the gnolls and manticore to keep it from happening again).

ZADASH: The Mighty Nein’s first undertaking in Zadash is to kill off the giant spiders in the sewer. In the process, they free a halfling imprisoned in a spiderweb, which leads them to the Gentleman and all his future quests.

Aside from that, their biggest job in Zadash this time around is the High Richter heist--which, yes, is a mercenary/political job that goes terribly wrong, but why does it go terribly wrong? Because Ulog, the M9′s NPC ally at the time, is so furious over his wife being wrongfully imprisoned by the High Richter that he impulsively blows up both her and himself. And arguably the most poignant moment in the heist’s aftermath is Caleb speaking to the next High Richter, Dolan, and ensuring that Ulog’s wife will be freed.

Also, let’s not forget the drow the M9 meet in the sewer. The one they capture, interrogate, and ultimately...let go. Yes, he’s killed shortly afterward and his beacon falls into their hands, but I think it’s very important to remember that the decision they make, when holding a captive terrorist from an “enemy” nation, is to return his stolen artifact to him and let him walk away free.

LABENDA SWAMP/BERLEBEN: The most memorable events during this interlude are: (1.) The M9 literally freeing Kiri from the swamp, where she is stuck in the mud and at the mercy of crocodiles, and (2.) Bowlgate, a.k.a. Caleb and Beau’s tense confrontation over what to do with Calianna, which is once again fueled on Beau’s side by her sympathy for a young woman held against her will. (Caleb proposes that Cali spend the night with the M9, which she did not intend, so they can use spells to determine her truthfulness the next day.)

HUPPERDOOK: This one’s obvious: The M9 fight a deadly automaton to free two gnomes from prison and reunite them with their children (largely to prevent said children from being taken to an orphanage against their will).

GLORY RUN ROAD/SHADYCREEK RUN - IRON SHEPHERDS ARC: ...Even more obvious. The sole goal of the remaining M9 members (and Nila) throughout this arc is to free their friends from slavery. They end up slaughtering all the slavers and freeing several other captives as well.

LUSIDIAN OCEAN - PIRATE ARC: Here’s where things get really interesting. Because this whole arc is also about captivity and freedom, isn’t it?

It’s about whether or not to free a little old captive named Uk’otoa!

I haven’t given nearly enough thought to how this arc fits in with all the others thematically, considering its central lesson is that freeing this particular captive would be a very bad thing. I do think it’s significant that:

(1.) The beginning of this arc, which leaves the whole party feeling so bad and icky, involves them quite inadvertently taking a captive of their own--and one whom they don’t treat very well. (And still don’t, for that matter...poor Marius.)

(2.) Soon after that incident, the M9 are themselves effectively taken captive by Avantika and her crew. This situation doesn’t last nearly as long as many audience members (and quite possibly Matt, and quite possibly the players themselves!) thought it would, because they panic on Darktow, go all Wall of Fire, and free themselves in a huge, climactic, desperate battle. The Mighty Nein do not take well to captivity.

Anyhow, they follow all this up with...

FELDERWIN/XHORHAS - YEZA ARC: ...another very straightforward quest to free a captive. Not only is this arc all about rescuing Yeza from a Xhorhasian dungeon, but after Caleb returns the beacon, after the Bright Queen of Xhorhas offers the Mighty Nein anything they want...all they ask her for is to let them go.

BAZZOXAN & BEYOND - OBANN ARC: ...By now, you know where I’m going with this, right? The entire arc is about freeing Yasha from Obann, who has her imprisoned inside her own body, inside her own mind. There’s a reason That Moment in the cathedral hit so hard, right? “And as you close your eyes, you see yourself breaking the shackles. You see the influence no longer holding any sway over your soul. There's nothing but the storm, vengeance, and hope.”

(Bonus: In the middle of the above arc, we get the HAPPY FUN BALL - RESCUING YUSSA ARC, which, once again, is devoted to freeing a captive.)

KAMORDAH/CYRIOS MOUNTAINS - ISHARNAI ARC: Aimed entirely at freeing Nott from the body in which she was imprisoned. Beau also has a bit of a freedom arc here: confronting the parents who imprisoned her figuratively and literally, turning her back on them (possibly for good), and then confronting a major source of the expectations and superstitions they shackled her with: Isharnai, who is neutralized by Jester’s cupcake.

THE MENAGERIE - CLAY ARC: Aimed entirely at freeing Caduceus’s family, who are imprisoned in perhaps the most literal way possible, being turned to stone. (The M9 also manage to liberate the Stone family while they’re at it.)

RUMBLECUSP - TRAVELER CON: Two great liberations take place here. First, all the residents of the Village of Vo are freed from Vokodo’s influence, their memories restored, their blind devotion dispelled, able once again to choose the course of their own lives. Second, the followers of the Traveler are freed from the deception he’s imposed on them, the cult he’s roped them into. Thanks to the Moonweaver’s interference, they, too, are free to make informed decisions. And I think we can also safely say that Artagan is freed from them, from the false “god” role he managed to box himself into, and he’s happier for it.

EISELCROSS - SOMNOVEM ARC: ...And this is it, folks. This is why I decided to finish this post today. Because I was openly not feeling the Eiselcross arc as an endgame. The hard slog through the elements just wasn’t doing it for me, or the frequent combat, or the increasingly complex lore, or the traditionally heroic quest to save the world from being swallowed by a monstrous city.

...Until last week. Until Lucien’s defeat. And Molly’s oh-so-improbable resurrection.

When I heard all the voices of the Somnovem whispering “Thank you” as their individual souls were freed from the Lovecraftian hivemind...when I heard Jester sobbing that at least Molly’s soul wasn’t “trapped” inside a monstrous Lucien anymore...when Cad’s Divine Intervention succeeded, and Mollymauk Tealeaf opened his eyes--his two plain old natural eyes--unburdened by Lucien and his Somnovem eyes and all of his dark baggage for the first time--I was finally able to embrace this as the ending.

Because it’s not about saving the world. That’s just a bonus. It’s about saving a friend. Freeing a friend. Freeing captives, wherever they find them. Whether from Crown’s Guard, gnolls, and giant spiders, or from royal dungeons; whether from ruthless enemies or from their own families; whether from eldritch abominations or from the forces that chain their own minds.

In the end, the Mighty Nein--and the people whose lives they touch--belong to no one and nothing that they do not choose to belong to. They belong to themselves, to the people they most sincerely love, to the gods and causes they have chosen freely. And that has always, always been my favorite kind of story.

And I can’t wait for tonight.

[korpuskat]

Kinktober Day 17 - Pet play - [Tomura Shigaraki/Reader]

[Ao3 Mirror] Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4,265 Summary: Your Quirk is useless, it just made you small. Too bad Tomura thinks that makes you cute. Contains: noncon, kidnapping, Yandere!Shigaraki; DFAB Reader; petplay (Master/Kitty), Praise Kink, Size Difference, Forced Orgasm, stockholm syndrome/mind break

======

Your back aches, burns low in your spine. Every joint sings in the same agony, whines and pleads for you to just give in. You blink, shift in the plastic and lift your eyes onto the flashes on the screen. The avatar of his character runs through the winding halls of his castle, making his way to the NPC he’s looking for.

That’s probably how he sees you. An NPC, a side quest he’s working on. He’s meticulous about it, just like he is with his games- purposefully working towards absolute completion, metering out the pointless companion quests between the main storyline. At least it’s something to watch. Gives you any entertainment at all that isn’t…

His character has stopped moving. The NPC’s dialogue box sits long past the audio has stopped playing, the reminder of what button to press to continue the conversation flashes in the corner. You swallow, but goosebumps have already erupted over your skin. You don’t have to turn your head to know he’s no longer looking at the screen.

“I have your favorite…” He coos, the low rasp of his voice turning sickly sweet. You shrink down into the plastic, but you can’t make yourself look away from him. He turns, reaches into a little box by his bed. He returns holding the tiny tin foil wrapped candy and you can’t stop your mouth from watering. “All you have to do is sit.” He pats the floor next to him, “Will you be a good little pet?”

Sitting next to him… You can do that. You’ve managed that before, to set aside that hatred and disgust for a while… It has been some time since you’ve been allowed to just exist on your own. You bite your lips and look to the tiny piece of chocolate. It’s okay. You can do that. You nod- and Tomura’s grin spreads wide over his face.

He pulls the key to the padlock from his pants, undoing it and setting it on top of the crate. The springs in the door squeak as he pinches them, opening the grated door. He backs off then, gives you a moment. You’ll get to stretch your legs, your back- you’ll get chocolate. You just have to be a little closer to him than you were before. That’s all. Palms and knees ache as you crawl out. You try to ignore the pride on Tomura’s face.

“You’re so obedient now.” He coos again and you flush. He lifts his hand, shows off the bandage that’s still wrapped around his palm. “I nearly killed you, you were so much trouble.” He leans forward as if to touch you- and where you once would’ve bitten and screamed, you sit. Complacent, docile as he pats your head. “Kurogiri was right, you did come around… I just needed to raise your affection level.”

You cast your eyes down. A side quest.

Tomura scoots back, leaves space for you on his floor. Your muscles ache as you crawl towards him- you worry for a minute he’ll make you sit some weird way. Like a cat, loafed up for him or make you sit in his lap- but his face never changes as you sit next to him. Never falters from that giddy pleasure as you stretch your legs out. Like this you can really see the difference in your sizes-- your toes barely reach past his knees, his scarred face towering over you even as he slouches. There’s nearly a foot between you, but it seems to satisfy him. Holding it by the long paper trail with two fingers, he places the chocolate onto your lap.

You wait for the catch, but it doesn’t come. Tomura picks up his controller again- careful to keep his little fingers pressed on the side of his ring fingers. And that’s just it- he goes back to his game. You sit still for a long time, unsure of what you’re allowed to do. At least you allow yourself to shakily unwrap the chocolate and set it to your tongue. Red eyes slide over to watch you and you shudder, pretend not to notice. It doesn’t matter; Tomura returns to his game, speeding through the NPC’s dialogue.

It isn’t bad, you decide. The chocolate melts on your tongue and you are soothed by the easy music of Tomura’s game. It’s easy to forget like this- how you wound up here. To forget those first few weeks- waiting and waiting for a hero to come while Tomura’s patience with you thinned.

It had changed at some point. No longer him threatening to hurt you if you didn’t go along with his fetish. He spoke softly- not the rasping voice that commanded you to heel, but as though he were speaking to a stray cat. He moved your crate to sit near his desk so you were always with him.

And then came the treats. The first few times you rejected him outright; over and over his fist closed around his gifts and they faded to dust. He’d return hours later, ready to try again. Ready to just sit beside you, play his games, speak in quiet words to soothe your worries.

And all the while he’d fawn over you, how cute you are.

Your damn Quirk. Stray heteromorph gene that dictated your every interaction- a Quirk that left you clocking in at less than four feet tall.

You hated your Quirk before being locked in a dog crate, but now you longed to be Quirkless. Maybe it wouldn’t change anything. You draw your legs back up, tuck them to your chest. You should be stretching out, enjoying your momentary freedom but now all you can think of is that disgusting face he’d made the first time you’d nodded and accepted his gift. First the awe and distrust- like you’d spit it back at him. You didn’t. You took the treat with shaking hands and cried.

He’d hushed you with a giddiness in his voice, That’s my good little girl…

Something touches your head- you jolt, spin to face him with wide eyes. He withdraws for a moment, but starts again with slow, careful motions- four fingers running through your hair, his thumb raised high and away. “No need to be nervous, pet.” You shudder, feel the cold creep down your spine as he hand continues on.

It’s not the reassuring hair-stroking of a lover, the calming head-patting of a parent- it’s something strange. Like he’s emulating something he’s only ever seen done. A halting pattern of his nail dragging over your scalp for a moment too long, starting again at the top of your head, sliding down to the base of your skull. It’s not soothing… but it is the only human contact you’ve had in… you don’t even know how long. How long since the heroes had stopped looking for you? His hand starts its stroke again and you close your eyes, rest your chin on your knees.

“You’re soft.” He states so quietly it might’ve just been for himself. Warmth graces your cheeks, the luxury of having shame one of the last bastions of your memory of the real world. He presses harder with his fingers, the nails- rough, uneven, scratch at your skin, trace down the curve of your skull- and this time he drifts further. Right on down to your neck, skimming over your heavy black leather collar, to scratch along the highest notches of your spine- you shudder.

Tomura hums, repeats the action and is rewarded with another shudder. You can’t help it- it’s sensitive there, unused to being touched. “This feel good…?”

In another world you’d gag at the thought of finding his touch agreeable. But here, his nails make your skin erupt into pleasurable goosebumps. The threat of displeasing him still looms overhead, so you tell yourself that’s why you nod. He grins wider and does it again, lets his hand drift even lower. Down and down- until four fingertips slide up under the hem of your shirt.

Your arms lock over your chest and you stare at him. He just smiles down at you. His fingertips are cold as they skirt across your skin beneath your shirt. Tomura’s never touched you like this before- always kept it relegated to his awkward head petting. You should fight. Should bite him again- and he speaks in that carefully controlled voice. “It’s alright. Good girl.”

good girl. you shiver. Close your eyes. Praise keeps punishments at bay. Means you get more time to stretch out your legs, more freedom-

So you don’t even struggle when he lifts your shirt over your head. Tomura doesn’t chide you for covering your bare chest, so you assume it’s fine. He doesn’t immediately go for it anyway: instead he keeps petting your back, drawing his nails lightly across your shoulders, the base of your neck. You give in: let your head fall forward, give him better access. It doesn’t go unnoticed. He scratches there, cards through your hair in affectionate motions until you nearly are purring.

You're nearly relaxed as his hands settle on your shoulders, urges you to lay down beside him. Fear makes your eyes go wide, but the lingering pleasantness of his touch makes you compliant, easy- your only resistance is a quiet "Tomura?"

"Shhh," His attempt at a calming voice doesn't quite soothe your nerves, but at least he's not angry. Reflexively, your arms tighten over your chest- but he doesn't even touch your arms. Instead, he eases his palms over your belly. The muscles there flinch away from him- and he pursues them, feels how they tremble with tension beneath his fingertips. Now that you can see them, the threat of that lethal touch isn't far from your mind.

His hands slide over your skin, rub in circles around your navel, up until his rough-bitten nails nudge at your forearms, always so careful to keep two fingers arched away. But he doesn't push more than that. Just strokes, slow, heavy passes of his hands, moving in wider circles out towards your ribs, down to the top of the curve of your hips. Any lower than that and he’d brush the threadbare pants he’d let you keep.

But there's a hunger in his eyes and you know it's coming. The inevitable pushing of your sanity- and those deadly, nimble fingertips brush across your wrists. You whimper, press your hands harder to your chest. He doesn't pull, doesn't try to force it- just works his fingers around your wrists and waits for your weak attempt to skirt his anger.

"I'm not..."

"Shh, kitties don't talk." He shushes you again, strokes his thumbs over the thin skin of your wrist. Any pressure there at all would have you wilting, capitulating to the pain- but he's had weeks to perfect his technique, too many long nights of discussing his goals with Kurogiri. A patience cultivated by sheer necessity and tempered by your slow acquiescence to his will. "You've been so good for me today. Don't you want your reward?"

A reward? Your eyes flit over to the little bag of chocolates, think of the still-easing ache in your legs. With hesitation, you nod. It can't be that bad.

When he tugs at your wrists this time you pinch your eyes closed, set your jaw, and let him. His breath shudders; a vein of barely bridled giddiness weaved into his voice as he tries to praise you again, "That's it, you're being so sweet." With his guidance, you rest your hands on the cool floor, curl your fingers into fists. Even with your eyes closed, you turn your face away from him, seek any reprieve from the shame of having Tomura stare down at you. His hands leave your wrists, walk spider-like across your waist, twitching with excitement. "Stay."

He leans back- and from the crumpling of plastic you know he's retrieving your reward. He sets the tiny swirl of tin foil next to you and you wrap your hand around it like a lifeline. Your stomach flexes as his fingertips ghost over your belly again- resume those large, heavy strokes of your skin. They tickle over your ribs- and the enthusiasm makes him rush upwards and stop. With your eyes closed your senses narrow down to his touch- and the ever increasing volume of his breathing.

He catches the curve of your breast in the crook of his thumb- and a single whimper involuntarily rises high in your throat. Tomura doesn't even hush you, too entranced by what he's doing that his hands are shaking. Even so, he's always aware of the placement of his fingers. He's spent too much time working on you, investing time in your side quests for you to disappear because of a quirk mishap. With a turn of his wrists, the weight of your breasts rest in his palms, index fingers pointed high and away from your skin. He experiments, plays with them- squeezes into the soft flesh there until it dimples around his fingertips-

You peek an eye open- and Tomura is staring, red eyes twinkling with the lights of his game, utterly bewitched by how your breasts roll and lift and fall and move with each motion of his palms. Like this, laid out on your back and him half curled over you, he looks even bigger. A glance down- and his hands nearly consume your chest, his long, thin fingers cover completely from one side of your ribs to the other. And past them- where his legs have come to straddle your own- a bulge sits prominently in his pants.

Sickly realization sets in- and you don't even have a moment to contemplate what's going to happen as his grip shifts, adjusts so only his thumb and index touch your skin- and pinch down on your nipples. You jolt- arms wrap around your belly just below his, gaze landing back on his face- and you want so badly for him to just this once be human.

"Please," breaks free from your lips. It won't help. "Stop, please."

The grin you’re met with is cruel, monstrous. "Just a little more, kitty..." Tomura licks his lips, draws the bottom on in between his teeth as he keeps on toying with your chest. A tweak of his fingers and you're jolting- he tugs on them and you're arching into his hands just to relieve the pressure. You bite your tongue to keep making any noise- but that seems to be the entire point for Tomura. He experiments, tries different angles, pressures, twists- and when the edge of his thumbnail catches on the tip of your nipple and your vow of silence is shattered by a single broken wail.

A lopsided grin carves its way across Tomura's face, reveals the teeth sunk into his cracked lips. "You're so cute." He croons, repeats the motion- flicks his thumb against the underside of the darker, sensitive skin until they raise up into stiff peaks. Tomura shifts his weight, lowers himself to rut softly against your thighs. The first iota of friction and he's groaning, eyes falling half-lidded- and the shaking fear resumes. You expect him to lose all control, so close to the prize he's been seeking for so long and from the way his hands tremble and squeeze at your chest you think he nearly does. But his thrusts remain slow, heavy on the downstroke as he forces his shaking voice from his chest, "Come on kitty, make your Master happy."

Your lower lip wobbles and does nothing to deter his hands from traveling again. Down, past the swell of your breasts, over your hands still clinging to yourself. His fingertips have warmed from your skin, but his touch is so light and delicate over your stomach it tickles- and his touch skates on downward, stopping at the last soft pouch of your belly. His breath shudders, wide fingers grabbing at your sides, at the curve of your hips while his thumbs squish the soft flesh below your navel.

He stops there, as though waiting for permission- glances excitedly between the apex of your tightly pressed thighs and your face. Your consent won't come- he knows that, you're not ready for that yet. One day he'll have you begging for him, but for now he's waited long enough to get a taste of his long awaited prize, just a taste of the achievement he's been grinding for. Tomura knows he should be slow, not scare you anymore- but the prospect of having to untangle fabric from your legs makes the itch flare- and his fingers close around the waist of your pants.

He coos to you, attempts to soothe the anxiety he's wrought, "It's okay, shh, shh,"

You squeeze your eyes closed. With his absence from your chest, you cover your chest and let one hand rest over the bottom of your face, to hide the worst of your quaking grimace. His hands stroke long paths across your now bare skin. Your body so small in his grasp he reaches from the underside of your breasts to the tops of your thighs without effort. It's meant to pacify your nerves, you think, these slow, heavy strokes- but the raw, innate knowledge that he's not anywhere near done with you keeps you on edge.

As soon as he realizes the trembling of your body isn't going to stop, Tomura moves on. He shifts, moves awkwardly until he draws your legs out from under him. You keep your thighs pressed together- and that's fine by him, your legs stretching up against his shoulder, sitting just under his chin. It's fine because he lifts you with one hand under your butt so he can rub the firm bulge of his clothed cock against your pussy. A sigh rips itself from Tomura's lips and you're digging your fingers into your own hair for any other sensation to focus on.

"Lemme see," and there's a mania in his eyes. Your nails bite into your skin- and your legs offer little resistance as he spreads them, forces them apart, draped across his thin thighs. One of his thumbs- so massive compared to yours, pulls your small, plump labia apart, stares down at your little pussy. Tomura moans. Shame burns your cheeks- and the overwhelming truth that there's no point fighting, no use in any of it.

He doesn't even touch you directly, too overwhelmed and already focused back on himself. His pants fare better than yours, end up shoved down around his thighs. The heat of his body burns into yours and he draws out his cock, already hard, standing proudly between his legs. You peek between your fingers, stare at him with wide, fearful eyes, unable to focus on either his thick, uncut cock or his gruesome, wide-stretched lips.

"Look, I'm so big." He says, his voice nearly cracking, betraying how wound-up he is. He holds it down on you- it's as wide as your wrist, dripping precum messily across your skin where the tip throbs against you. And as small as you are with your damn useless quirk, the thick head comes up to the bottom of your rib cage. It makes your stomach churn, fear taking root deep inside you- and in the same moment a heat settles inside you, a useless, unhelpful primal reaction to it all.

"I could break you." Eight fingertips bite into your thighs- and his hips stutter forward. The underside of his cock slides between your legs- and the meager slickness there eases his way. "You're so wet." You aren't sure if Tomura doesn't understand your body or if he's playing into his own fantasy- but it doesn't stop him from closing your thighs around him and rutting down again. "I won't, I won't- I promise. Don't want to hurt my little kitty, my- ah- my sweet little pet..."

The friction on your clit only increases with your legs holding him in place. He thrusts against you- and though on all sides except against your slit your skin drags, warms as it chafes, Tomura doesn't seem to mind. If anything, the roughness is only making it better for him as he rambles on, "I'd take such good care of you! I'd love you if you'd let me- you just have to be good." Through your fingers you meet his gaze; his eyes are glazed over in lust, the red obscured with his thin eyelashes. He pants through open lips, nearly drooling as he thrusts against you. "You want to be good for me don't you? For your Master?"

His angle changes, slots in closer to you- and oh. He hadn't been quite up on you before, the drag of his cock more along the full length of your pussy than the single point of your clit, but now--

The gasp is quiet, barely there. Between the slap of skin and slick noises between your legs, the gentle music of his game's pause screen, and his own ragged breathing you want to believe so badly he hadn't heard it. But his reaction is immediate: where his gaze had been half-lidded, lost in his own ecstasy, it is now wide, his pupils shrinking down in shock, leaving the crimson ring of his iris to glow in the low light.

"Here?" He says- and rubs the firm head of his dick against you again. You're too sensitive now to pretend it doesn't feel good, as much as you don't want it to. No matter how hard you squeeze your eyes closed and shake your head, the helpless little rises of your hips are all he needs to encourage him. As meticulous as he is, he keeps the pressure on your clit and doesn't let up for anything- returns to his long, swift strokes, the wetness of your pussy letting him glide through your folds and over your clit without resistance. Between your legs, his cock fucks your thighs, the head smearing your mixed arousal over your skin, leaking milky precum across your belly-

"See, see- I could make you feel so good, I'd take care of you, I could make you cum." He rasps, leans over you and lifts your hips with him, pulls your lower back clean off the floor so he can keep that sinful angle. He moves down as though to kiss you and you're so glad for once that you're too short- or perhaps he's too tall- for him to reach your lips. No, instead his chest comes in close to your face, the warmth radiating off him and you splay your hands across his pale skin just to weakly try to push him back. He doesn't even notice.

"I want to- the only one- only ever me-" He grunts, huffs, drops one arm down to hold himself up. He's close, the pleasured trembling of your legs only making it more enjoyable for him. "You're gonna cum." It's a demand, a promise- "Gonna be my good little kitty who cums on my cock."

There's no point fighting- and still your nail dig into his chest, scratch red welts into his skin as you turn your face away from him. Tomura hisses- and tears your hands off him, pins your wrists down to the floor with his wide palms. Though his face twists into a scowl, he never stops his rough humping of your thighs. And now, now there's no barrier between his skin and yours other than your own legs, your body nearly bent double with his need for closeness.

He groans- and you're restless under him, consider kicking him, biting him, anything, anything- and the fear of punishment keeps you still. He wants you to- to-

"Be good, come on- be good for your Mah-ster. It'll feel so good, kitty, just cum, just let go-" and you sob, close your eyes and lean into him. Every stroke has your clit tingling, aching-

"That's it, that's it!" He breathes, "Give in, let me take care of you."

You're crying, cumming, your legs squeezing tight around his cock and thrusting back against him, riding out your high as he praises you, curses. His hands pinching your wrists as he shakes, arches, drives down over and over- and hot cum splatters against your belly, up to your chest. He's gasping, shaking- and all at once he drops down over you, bends your legs back, pins them between your stomach and his. You grunt, squirm under him- and he's kind enough to lift his hips, dislodge his body from yours, and lowers himself again.

He's so big, he covers every inch of you- and he's just conscientious enough to leave you room to breathe. tocry. Because you haven't stopped, chest shuddering with each inhale- and with his orgasm leaving him boneless, pliant, you wiggle your hands out from under his. He stirs, shifts just enough to look down at you with suspicion, with that familiar disappointment that you'll try to scratch him again and-

and you wrap your arms around his torso. Broken by your own sobs, you can only force one word out between wails, "Tomura- Tomura-"

He sucks in air through his teeth. His arms shake as he pushes himself up to sit and drags you along with him. So small, you don't even reach the underside of his chin while in his lap, he holds you close, whispers sweet words in your ear, sweet kitten, good girl, i love you, shhh, it's alright, i'll take care of you.

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If you like my writing, please consider reblogging or leaving me a tip!

[deiliamedlini]

WIP Wednesday

I wrote this last night and really don’t know where I’m going with it because I wrote another section of this that’s completely different from this first part, but I’m having too much fun so this might become a long oneshot or like a two/three chapter short fic eventually. I signed into my Guild Wars account for the first time in forever to watch the chat and apparently Lion’s Arch isn’t as interesting as it used to be. Not that any of that is really relevant. 

This is Zelda and the Champions as internet friends playing a MMORPG video game called Hyrule Warriors. 

~

Zelda Harkinian loved Fridays. Not that it was a rare thing to be obsessed with the weekend, but she maybe loved it a little too much. After a week of lesson plans, and cleaning the classrooms, and sneezing students, and emails asking for an extension on a paper that wasn’t even due yet, she relished the escape the weekend provided. Granted, she still had to grade about a hundred tests, but that was a problem for Sunday or even Monday.

Smiling down at her roommate, a kitten she’d raised when she found it in the street all alone, Zelda fed her girl—whom she’d named Duchess because she had every intent of treating her like royalty—and played with her for a bit before throwing down her bag in her room and then grabbed a water and a granola bar before heading to her desk. She flipped her laptop open and booting up Hyrule Warriors, her favorite open world MMORPG.

Her internet sucked, so she grabbed her phone to aimlessly scroll to see if there was any news or updates. But it was pretty dull.

Instead, she thought back to how this whole weekend ritual began.

She’d been in a cavern just off of Death Mountain for about three days killing fire keese, lizalfos, and beamos. As a mage, her AOE skills made short work of the larger groups, hitting them all at once. It was especially useful here because her main specialties were water and light, but she struggled when boss fights came out. The NPCs weren’t great teammates, and she constantly found herself resurrecting far from the boss, only to make a long run with a health penalty that ended with her getting killed again, until her heath penalty was maxed out and she had to restart for any hope of succeeding. As a mage, her light armor made her vulnerable to physical attacks, and this boss was very physical.

Zelda didn’t like interacting with people in this game. It was massively popular, and the chat was always running. Sometimes, she’d just sit at an outpost and watch people talk. Her favorite interactions were often the random ones. She’d begun to look up the acronyms everyone used in chat just to understand them better. WTS= want to sell.

Indigo2421: WTS: Guardian Short Sword 4k rupees

Indigo2421WTS: Guardian Short Sword 4k rupees

Indigo2421WTS: Guardian Short Sword 4k rupees

Britneigh4Horses: WTS My mother. 1 rupee. Will pay postage fee.

But after her days of suffering in the lonely caverns in Death Mountain, she relented.

A quick search had her hands shaking, but she typed quickly so she couldn’t back out after she’d hit enter.

xPrincessZx: LFG Dodongo’s Cavern

Holding her breath, she’d waited in the hopes of a private message being sent to her.

One did.

(PM): ThunderstruckQueen: What missin are doing there?

(PM): ThunderstruckQueen: Mission*

(PM): xPrincessZx: I have to kill the Dodongo boss for the main story

ThunderstruckQueen would like to join your party.

Biting her nails, she’d accepted.

(PM): RockRoast12345: Still need someone?

(PM): xPrincessZx: Yes! That would be great! Thanks!

RockRoast12345 would like to join your party.

That had been how it started: A goron warrior with a Warhammer and some serious defensive moves joined as the tank to take as much damage for the team as he could stand, and a Gerudo Paladin had joined her party. Zelda was jealous of the purchase-only red hairstyle the Gerudo had for her character. She had a sword and shield, but her body flickered with elemental lightening magic. In-game purchase effects.

They’d defeated Dodongo with ease, and had gone on several missions together that day, taking down their storylines with relative ease. But they couldn’t function with the NPC healer who barely functioned at all.

So, ThunderstruckQueen had taken to the map chat and put out a request.

ThunderstruckQueen: I found someone. She’s a Zora Cleric. Level 40

RockRoast12345: Let her in! I want to get this one over with

Rutella Zoran IV would like to join your party.

After that, the four of them realized they worked so well together that they’d formed a guild. The Champions. ThunderstruckQueen paid the guild fee, bought a hall, and began decorating it with merchants, and chests. Zelda still shuddered, wondering what she did to have so many rupees ready to go. Needless to say, she made herself the leader.

Some days, they didn’t play together. Other times, only two of them were on. But on weekends, they all came together.

But it had been a Monday when Zelda played, and she’d been alone. Having already tossed her tissue box across her room in frustration, she debated making a new character with more defense, but she sucked it up and went into the Castle Town map, ready to ask for help. She couldn’t wait until she could get to be a higher level. As it was, she’d only gotten to these level 40 areas as a 32 because of Rutella.

Suddenly, a random Hylian man in green with a fancy sword and shield ran up to her and bowed. Zelda scoffed at her computer screen, unsure if she was supposed to respond.

She didn’t need to.

(PM): WildKnightOut2: Hey Princess

(PM): xPrincessZx: Hello?

(PM): WildKnightOut2: Jst wondering if u have a spare flower crown from yesterday’s festival. Missed it. Will pay

Zelda pulled up her inventory, forgetting she was still wearing her flower crown from the Flower Fest. It must have been what tipped him off. In fact, she had four spares.

(PM): zPrincessZx:  Yeah, I do. Come to the chest and I’ll trade.

(PM): WildKnightOut2: Thx

She’d never done a trade with anyone who wasn’t in her guild, so she’d felt nervous running to grab it.

(PM): WildKnightOut2: How much u want?

(PM): xPrincessZx: Actually, I’ll give it to you free if you’re willing to help me with a quest? Or 10k.

WildKnightOut2 would like to join your party.

She accepted and watched his character appear in the corner of her screen.

WildKnightOut2: That’s a rip off, btw. Crowns are with 15k at least. Don’t undersell

xPrincessZx: Thanks. I didn’t realize. I’m still kind of new.

WildKnightOut2: Howd u get out here then?

xPrincessZx: I had a run from a friend in my guild.

WildKnightOut2: Got room for a warrior in there?

Zelda introduced him to the other Champions when they’d signed back on, and after a few weeks, Zelda had leveled up enough that she didn’t need to constantly rely on a teammate. But still. She liked Wild the best after ThunderstruckQueen.

They’d brought in a Rito Ranger named TheBestYouveNeverMet, which immediately set Wild off.

(PM): WildKnightOut2: should I aggro a group over so he has to fight them for us?

(PM): xPrincessZx: No! Don’t do that! I’ll get sent over to deal with them!

(PM): xPrincessZx: HEY! I SEE YOU ON THE MAP!

(PM): xPrincessZx: WILD GET BACK TO THE GROUP

On the mini-map, she saw a hoard of red coming at them and rolled her eyes before joining TheBest to kill them with area attacks. Rutella stayed back to heal them, but Thunder and Rock both continued on, unfazed.

ThunderstruckQueen: Wild you’re an idiot

But that was then. This was now.

They’d been together for months as a guild, and now, the six of them knew how the others worked.

If Wild or TheBest took off on their own, no one would follow. They’d both been killed numerous times in an attempt to piss the other off. Zelda had learned to stay with Thunder and Rock. Rutella flitted between running back to revive the idiots, or sticking with the smarter members while letting them heal on their own.

(PM): WildKnightOut2: u wound me

Zelda chuckled, but he wasn’t done.

(PM): WildKnightOut2: After all ive done for u

(PM): WildKnightOut2: u leave me to die

(PM): xPrincessZx: Don’t run off next time

It was a Wednesday when she and Wild were playing alone, so they freely used party chat for ease. She’d surpassed his level, and towered as a 93 while he was an 87.

WildKnightOut2: Hang on. Fuzzball wants food

Zelda stared at his character on her screen, wondering if he looked anything like that avatar. Blonde hair, muscular, piercing blue eyes. She’d made her character look like herself, so it wasn’t hard to imagine others had. Plus, he was the only Hylian. She highly doubted that RockRoast12345 was actually a giant rock-man, or that Rutella Zoran IV was a short fish lady.

She knew everything about these people except their names, faces, and voices.

She knew that ThunderstruckQueen was a single mother who called her daughter Ri on chat. She was a chief of police, and had a few hundred of her force to look out for. Still, she wanted to quit soon to join the military reserve forces now that her daughter was getting older. Devoted and loyal, Thunder occasionally snapped when everyone would start fighting with each other, though it was usually directed at TheBest and Wild, the annoyance sometimes extended out to others.

She knew that RockRoast12345 was older than all of them and had a young grandson. He’d bonded with Thunder over their children at first, and then, without meaning to, they became the parents of the group. Recently, Rock had retired from working as a supervisor in a mine, and gaming had become his way of relieving some of that boredom. But he told the best stories when they were idling around, just stories about anything, and they were always captivating. Also, he was afraid of dogs.

She knew that Rutella Zoran IV was the daughter of a politician. She cared for her little brother like he was her own, and sometimes, he took control of her character, proudly revealing that his real name was Sidon. She was in school to be a doctor, and that made her family prouder than anything. She lived and breathed for her family.

TheBestYouveNeverMet was a pilot. His schedule was the most hectic out of everyone’s because of the flights, but he was sarcastic to the core, and sometimes, the sarcasm was simply rude and definitely didn’t translate well over chat. He was superior, and since he’d been playing the game longest, he thought it entitled him to make more decisions. But Zelda knew from her private conversations with him that deep down, he was sweet and caring. He’d always be the first to ask her how her day was, and he’d learned some of her students’ names to ask if they’d been nuisances.

But Zelda spent the most time talking to WildKnightOut2, so she knew the most about him. At first, they’d bonded over the fact that they both had cats. His was called Fuzzball, an orange, fat cat that needed to exercise more. He’d tried to leash him, but Fuzz wasn’t interested. Sometimes, Fuzz would crawl over the keys, send Wild running, and send chat a long stream of letters.

He was funny and made comments in her private chat while they were playing that had her roaring at times.

He was a rock-climbing instructor and in his free time, he was a free solo climber. When she’d looked it up, she’d been horrified to see that he basically climbed mountains without a harness or ropes, and a fall could kill him. She’d asked if he was good at it, or just did it for fun, and his answer had been an ambiguous “yes.”

She knew about his family. He didn’t live near them, but he kept in contact with his grandparents, his father, and his little sister.

WildKnightOut2: k back. Where we going princess?

xPrincessZx: I need to farm for new armor out in the Haunted Wasteland. Do you need to do anything?

WildKnightOut2: I need to help u farm in the haunted wasteland. What do you need?

xPrincessZx: 10 Rubies

WildKnightOut2: damn ok I have 2 u can have so u only need 8

xPrincessZx: Thanks. How���d that party go last night?

WildKnightOut2: Sucked

xPrincessZx: Cool details

WildKnightOut2: If ud been there, ud have hated it

xPrincessZx: Why?

WildKnightOut2: Bunch of self-absorbed idiots. Like TheBest is

xPrincessZx: Lol. He’s not that bad.

WildKnightOut2: if u say so

They headed into the Wasteland looking for red poes that had rare drops for rubies. She and Wild took out a few groups before they started to struggle. Neither could play and talk at the same time fast enough to warn the other that something was happening, and they both ended up at the shrine of resurrection more times than they cared to admit.

xPrincessZx: Hey Wild. This might sound weird, but do you have that gaming app where we could just maybe voice chat?

xPrincessZx: Unless you’re not comfortable with that. We can invite the others, and when we play together, and it would probably make life a thousand times easier

xPrincessZx: But it’s okay if you don’t want to

WildKnightOut2: yeah I have it

Oh, Zelda thought to herself. That was easy.

xPrincessZx: Do you want to add me? I have the same name

She watched her phone like it was food in the microwave, only occasionally glancing at her computer to see if Wild had sent her another message. She drummed her fingers and her leg started to bounce until her screen lit up.

WildKnight has sent you a friend request.

She hastily hit accept and grabbed her headphones from the drawer before typing into her phone.

xPrincessZx: Your name is missing a few things here.

WildKnight: Yeah HW already had someone with this name so I added on

xPrincessZx: The meaning completely changes

WildKnight: which do you like better?

Zelda froze, unable to make her fingers type. Was he flirting? Was that how people flirted online? She was really good at reading body language cues, and that was always how she knew someone was flirting. But this? There was no context! How was she supposed to know?

xPrincessZx: Which fits your personality more?

That was a safe way of getting out of answering while still sounding maybe like she was flirting. Right?

WildKnight: this one

Zelda’s face warmed up and she put her head in her hands, unsure how to respond. How does she respond to that? What if he wasn’t flirting? What if he was.

[mnemo-li]

Calebros: A Rant About My Favorite VTM NPC

I do love the newer Vampire: the Masquerade content, but sometimes the writing leaves a lot to be desired. A prominent example is - what in my opinion is - the butchery of Calebros’ character in Beckett's Jyhad Diary.

While I do love seeing the more brusque side of Calebros’ personality, I don’t think I’ve ever recalled him being this vulgar in the original Clan Novels. He was definitely not dropping the f-bombs left and right, and even his gruff manner had more to do with dry humor, sarcasm, and keeping up the dignified image fit for a clan leader. I do realize that this series of chat is set much after his whole ordeal as Prince of New York is over, so maybe the experience really changed him. However, the in-universe explanation of his drastic shift in personality is lacking– it is most likely the result of a change in writers which led to inconsistent writing and characterization.

Here are some examples of scenes that presents his characterization in a more nuanced light.

Scene 1: The Nictuku Accusation

“They would have eaten me, I tell you!” “I believe you, Jeremiah,” Calebros said in a forced, calm tone. He was tired of nodding politely, of reassuring his clanmate. Jeremiah could be a difficult person to like at times. This was rapidly becoming one of those times. “Don’t you humor me!” Jeremiah snapped. “I’ve been coming to you about this for weeks now.” Seems more like years, Calebros thought. “And still you’ve done nothing. Nothing!” Jeremiah paced around, gesticulating wildly. There was no second chair by Calebros’s desk, and for this very reason. He mostly didn’t like guests, didn’t want guests, didn’t want to encourage them to sit down, to take a load off and stay for a while. Most anyone who had reason or inclination to visit Calebros was irate, complaining, or tiresome. Jeremiah happened to be all three presently. “That is not true,” Calebros assured him. Jeremiah snorted in disgusted. “What, then? Tell me. What have you done?” “I have considered quite carefully your report.” “Ha! Like I said, nothing. ‘Considered my report…’” Jeremiah repeated contemptuously. “This is what I think of you and your reports—” he said, grabbing a handful of papers from the nearest stack on Calebros’s desk. Jeremiah made to fling them into the air— Instantly, Calebros’s hand shot out and latched around his visitor’s wrist. Talons pricked undead flesh ever so slightly. “Believe me,” said Calebros evenly. “You do not want to do that.” They faced each other for a moment, one monstrous creature restraining the hand of another. Jeremiah’s fingers, biting into the papers, were long and grotesquely thin, little more than needles of bone. His entire body was thin and hard and covered with knots, bulging masses of hardened tissue, like an old, gnarled swamp tree. Finally he stopped resisting Calebros and returned the reports to the desk. “I’m sorry,” Jeremiah said and resumed his pacing, just as intently if less frenetically.

This is from the Nosferatu clan novel. Here, Jeremiah is trying to get Calebros to believe that there truly are Nictukus dwelling in the sewers. Calebros is, frankly, tired of hearing the folk tale especially when he has other pressing matters to deal with. Yet, even with his patience paper thin, he does not lash out at his broodmate. He is shown to be deeply introverted, anti-social perhaps, but he does not let his own nature affect his duties. As the Nosferatu primogen - as the leader of the clan - he has to listen to the concerns of his family, no matter how absurd. He knows when to express his authority, and he never abuses it. Again, no f-bombs dropped.

Scene 2: The Salt Lake

“Geez, what am I, your mother?” Emmett asked. “No,” Calebros said. “You are my brother, my broodmate.” “Brood, litter, whatever. We were both chosen to suck the old blood tit, so who am I to ask questions?” Calebros sighed. Blood tit, indeed. “That’s not how you remember it.” Now it was Emmett’s turn to sigh. “Don’t do this. Don’t get all… You always do this, get all touchy-feely we’re-all-brothers-in-the-blood, when you soak your head, blah, blah, blah…” “Make light of it if you will—” “I will. Thank you very much. Got enough salt here?” Emmett flicked some at Calebros.

This is from the Nosferatu clan novel. Here, Calebros has just came up from his meditation within the mud hole / salt lake. He is shown to be introspective and even sentimental. In terms of character voice, his more poised speaking style and inner monologue is contrasted against Emmett’s rough, colloquial style.

Other Sources

In the Calebros graphic novel, a similar scene is shown where Calebros is depicted to be trying and failing to remember his past before he became a vampire, losing his mind as he mixes up imagination with false memories. His inner dialogue in the graphic novel shows him saying:

“Do I tell him that his prince, his... compatriot?, is losing his mind? Never.”

This very much reflects his true nature. In Vampire: the Masquerade, there is a system of nature vs demeanor. According to his character sheet, his demeanor is that of a “director” while his nature is a “martyr (penitent)”.

Director: To the Director, nothing is worse than chaos and disorder. The Director seeks to be in charge, adopting a "my way or the highway" attitude on matters of decision-making. The Director is more concerned with bringing order out of strife, however, and need not be truly "in control" of a group to guide it. Coaches, teachers, and many political figures exemplify the Director Archetype.

Martyr: The Martyr suffers for his cause, enduring his trials out of the belief that his discomfort will ultimately improve others' lot. Some Martyr simply want the attention or sympathy their ordeals engender, while others are sincere in their cause, greeting their opposition with unfaltering faith in their own beliefs. Many Inquisitors, staunch idealists, and outcasts are Martyr Archetypes.

Penitent: The Penitent exists to atone for the grave sin she commits simply by being who she is. Penitents have either low self-esteem or legitimate, traumatic past experiences, and feel compelled to "make up" for inflicting themselves upon the world. Penitent Archetypes aren't always religious in outlook; some truly want to scourge the world of the grief they bring to it. Repentant sinners, persons with low self-esteem, and remorseful criminals are examples of the Penitent Archetype.

All of these quotes, if feel, matches very much with the Calebros I knew from the clan novel saga. Below are also a set quotes detailing Calebros’ inner dialogue in his graphic novel.

“As prince, only I can save them, only I can keep them from looking where they shouldn’t. A force exists underneath this city, sleeping, and it must remain so, lest we all perish.

“Augustin, my sire, left us to investigate the Nictuku, and came back to me with this information. Could this be Gehenna? The Final Nights? When the Ancients awake to devour their errant children? Can it be stopped? Should it be stopped? Everything that is done is a hope of staving off the inevitable. Why?”

“My embrace into this world was a foregone conclusion, made for me by Augustin. It is no different for anyone else. Why then do we not welcome the coming Armageddon? Exchange one world for another. It sounds almost painless, except I would never accept such a course, neither would my fellow Nosferatu. Neither would my fellow Kindred, for that matter.”

He is incredibly contemplative, and determined too, willing to fight against the inevitable apocalypse of the vampires. As long as his clan and the Kindred as a whole does not give up, does not give in the the despair of Gehenna, he too will be willing to fight for the survival of others.

Scene 3: Against a Master Manipulator

The character of Hesha is... complex. I see him as sort of a sweet-talking, cunning, charismatic cult leader. Here is a dialogue between him and Calebros.

“No harm was done,” Hesha said softly, his voice still the slightest bit scratchy from the ordeal he’d undergone. “As you say,” said Calebros, not looking up and continuing to write furiously. “You concede without agreeing.” Hesha laughed quietly. Calebros’s head whipped up. Angry words were ready on his lips, but the Egyptian’s smile was not mocking. The Setite obviously realized the weakness of his position, physically and strategically, as well as the fragility of their alliance. “Candor is important between friends,” Hesha said. “Otherwise, perceived insults take hold and fester.” “I am quite accustomed to festering,” Calebros said curtly. “I fear that I’m growing so as well,” Hesha said, squeezing one of the boils that stood raised about one of his many open wounds until the canker popped, and frothy pus ran down his arm. He laughed quietly again. Calebros punctuated a written sentence with a particularly violent period. “Your woman willfully disobeyed her instructions.” “She exercised discretion,” Hesha countered. “She blatantly disregarded the safety of my people.” “If anything had gone wrong,” Hesha said, “it would be Pauline lying torn on the ground. Your people would have faded into the night, none the worse for wear.” Calebros fumed. Probably Hesha was correct—but the Nosferatu was not about to admit as much. “I will speak with her,” Hesha said reasonably. “She has not encountered those of your clan before. She’s not aware of how strongly your predilection for…” “Cowardice?” Calebros suggested accusingly. “Prudence, I was going to say. She’s not aware of how strongly your predilection for prudence runs.” Good choice of words, Calebros thought. But, then, Hesha always chose his words carefully, always seemed to know just the right thing to say. It was discomforting in a way, how easily the Setite could alleviate tension with just a few words. Go ahead, Eve. Take a bite of the apple. Adam might like some too. But it seemed that they needed one another—and that outweighed their natural and mutual tendencies to distrust one another. Just barely.

Hesha’s actions managed to get under Calebros’ nerves, as seen in his curt speech, his furious writing, his accusatory reply to Hesha. He is angry for the safety of his clan (which, as seen from all the other sources, is something very dear to him). He is even shown to be stubborn, refusing to admit that Hesha was correct. Even still, he keeps his head rather than loose his cool completely. He also realises Hesha’s smooth words for what they are- manipulation. He is willing to compromise and form a sort of alliance with Hesha too, despite of his distrust and personal feelings.

Calebros and Ramona

I found the strange friendship Calebros had with the Gangrel Ramona to be incredibly touching, and tragic due to the turns it took towards the end (which I won’t spoil). Below are some excerpts from the Nosferatu clan novel showing Ramona’s initial meeting with Calebros and his later assessments of her character.

Neither Pauline nor the other girl, Ramona, had been subjected to the full brunt of facing a Nosferatu. Not until now, that is, when they were brought into Calebros’s presence. He did not hide his true appearance from them. And he could read the dismay, the fear and disgust, on their faces. Of the two, Pauline made the worthier attempt, attempt, to maintain her demeanor of professional detachment—perhaps Ruhadze had taught her well. The Gangrel, unsurprisingly, was not so couth. She gawked, both at Calebros and at Hesha in his current condition, and she hid her revulsion quite poorly, if she tried at all. […] Ramona looked at Calebros again, a more measured look this time, trying to see through the deformities. Good girl, Calebros thought. Young and brash, but not stupid.

Ramona reached for a calendar on Calebros’s desk, but tossed it back when she realized it was from 1972. “That’s still a whole month, and nobody knows where Leopold was that whole time. He could have gone back to the cave.” Smart girl, Calebros thought. He was leading her along the same path of reconstructing events that he had followed.

He compliments her intelligence again and again, and seems genuinely fond of her. Which I believe is why, after he became Prince of New York, he allows her a private audience with him to which he offered her a safe passage out of town which she rejects, viewing his actions as a betrayal. Below is an excerpt from what I think is the Clan Brujah novel.

The hunched form stepped forward, leaning heavily against the seatbacks as he came. Ramona kept straining to pick out the sound of broken gasps that must accompany such labored progress, but the air did not stir. "You had requested an audience, my dear. A private audience. I have gone to some pains to secure a place where we might be alone. Privacy is such an indulgence here. All too often, I find myself unable to justify the expense of importing it. And there is always someone else jealous of such decadence. But you have not come to hear of my distractions. Sit here, next to me, and tell me why you have come.”

[…]

“Calebros chuckled low, a sound like an engine turning. "No, I don't imagine you would. I will miss your straightforward style, Ramona. I find it refreshing. But already you know that there is no longer any place for you here. In the midst of battle—against the Sabbat and later, against Leopold and the Eye—we could afford certain marriages of convenience. But these partnerships will not survive the challenges of peacetime. Your associates, Mr. Ruhadze and Mr. Ravana, they found themselves in much the same position. Each has already left New York.”

[…]

“Calebros was silent for a time, letting her wind down. "I'm sorry I couldn't help you with the Eye, Ramona. And I'm sorry you will have to leave us. Believe me, I would like nothing better than to find a place for you here. I will have sore need of people who can be relied upon in the nights ahead. But you know what you would be up against if you remained here— the posturing, the none-too-subtle snubbing, the outright backstabbing. You are a rarity among our kind, Ramona. But because you are different, you will be hated and eventually destroyed if you stay among the society of the damned. Know that I will remember our time together fondly. If I can be of any assistance to you in relocating..." "No, I understand. It's 'thanks for your help; here's your bus ticket.' Well, I don't need any of your favors. I don't like the strings attached to them. And I resent the fact that you think I'm so stupid that I'll let you screw me over and then thank you for it." "Ramona...”

Again, even during his tenure as Prince of New York he is so damn eloquent, I definitely can’t fathom the word fuck ever slipping out of his mouth. He is compassionate, helping Ramona perhaps for future gains too, but mainly I believe he genuinely wants to do something right, give her the happy ending she deserves for once.

Moreover, I have a soft spot for this quote of Calebros pondering about Ramona’s nature, why she’s always so angry at the world, why every word out of her mouth sounds like an accusation. It showcases well his world-weariness, a cynical attitude that hides his concerns for others.

What have you seen that makes you so angry, so bitter, little one? Calebros wondered. Family killed? Have you been betrayed? How many times, I wonder. You’d best get over it, if you hope to survive.

So... yeah. I’d pay money to see an accurate portrayal of Calebros in a newer media otherwise I might have to write my own fanfic pairing my OC with him