#some important information for those who enjoy my stories

[bellaxgiornata]

I still haven't forgotten about the last few asks from the celebration the other week! I will absolutely answer them all, but I've randomly been back on a writing kick so I'm just going with that at the moment while I still have time and inspiration! Currently Frank is on my brain again and I'm trying to get a draft for Neighbors finished this week and hopefully one for You're Safe With Me afterwards.

But I've got some important information about story updates and my upcoming writing hiatus below the cut for those who want to know what'll be going on with me for the next few months!

Now is probably a good time to mention that once baby finally comes, I'll be taking a little writing hiatus. I'll be 38 weeks on Saturday which means little dude is coming any day now. For a few weeks after that I'll be focusing on baby and my family and recovering. I also realistically know I'm going to be soooo sleep deprived between a toddler and a newborn for a bit. Though my hope is that a few months later, especially when my son starts preschool, I can maybe get back into writing slowly. And obviously as baby gets a bit older he will hopefully start sleeping better so I can get back into things again--because you can guarantee I'll still be feral waiting for Born Again to come out and then afterwards.

But that's why I've been stockpiling rough drafts of stories for a little while now. I'm currently at 8 rough drafts and I've got probably 8 more in varying states of being written. My hope is that I'll be able to occasionally work on editing something up and eventually posting it for y'all. I won't have a schedule though because it'll just be whenever I have something ready and time to post it. I'm also hoping to maybe read some more fics finally and work on a fic rec list to spread the love while my brain is tired (if I can manage reading...).

I appreciate all the love y'all have given me and my stories and I appreciate those of you who will still be patiently waiting for updates while things are changing over here for me! 💖 I still plan to be active on tumblr, too, so I'm not disappearing!

[pyrrhiccomedy]

A DM’s Fair Play Guide To Plot Twists

I love running a game with a lot of surprises. The challenge to pulling this off well is that, unless you’re playing a one on one game, your players outnumber you: and between them, they have a good chance of figuring out what’s going to happen, no matter how sneaky and clever you are.

The first way of dealing with this - which I’ll just call the bullshit way - is to not give your players the information they need to solve the mystery. Don’t let them find out about the secret society until it’s too late. Don’t give them any reason to suspect that their NPC ally is planning to kill them. Don’t let them find the murder weapon, don’t let them locate the witnesses, don’t give them the chance to skip to the end of their investigation.

This sucks, and if you run your games like this, you’re going to piss off your players. Because it isn’t fair.

In mystery literature, a “fair play mystery” is one where the reader is given all of the information they need in order to figure out the solution before the Big Reveal. It’s what makes the reveal good: that GASP, the “oh shit, the knife! the knife from the party! that was hers! I forgot!”

Pulling off a twist in a fair play game is an incredible feeling. Your players will think you’re a genius (or an absolute dick bastard, which is just as good) and they’ll respect it more when they land in hot water that they plausibly could have avoided. So how do you run a fair play game without your players figuring out the twists ahead of time, given that you’re definitely not smarter than all of your players put together?

By fucking with their expectations.

Here are some things that I keep in mind, to keep my players guessing. And it’s important, with all of this, that if your players see through something, let them have it. They should figure out a lot of things on their own! But if you’re regularly seeding your stories with all of this stuff, eventually your players will miss something. Those are somethings you can build on. The same way that a low level enemy who gets away once can keep coming back again and again until they become an important antagonist, a misapprehension your party proves to have a blindspot for can grow and develop until they get smacked with a breathtaking twist. 

What’s a twist if not the sudden overturning of an assumption you never thought to question?

1: Make your powerful friendly NPCs know a lot...but not as much as the players think they do.

Player characters often end up with powerful allies. It would be very convenient for the party if those allies always had accurate information. Make sure they don’t always enjoy that convenience.

It’s a balancing act: you want your powerful NPCs to be powerful. You want this alliance to be meaningful and beneficial to your players. But give your NPC an Achilles heel of some kind, when it comes to the information at their disposal. The Noble General commands powerful forces and knows the lay of the enemy’s land well...but that doesn’t mean he knows what every squadron and scouting party is up to. The Political Mastermind may know the ins and outs of the court, and have keen insight into the motivations of others: but he has an enemy who pisses him off so much that he loses all objectivity around her. The Powerful Wizard can call upon great magic to aid the party: but his divinations aren’t as accurate as he thinks they are, and he’s prone to finding, in his signs and omens, what he wants to see, more than what’s actually there.

Most of the time, their information should be good! That will make it more likely that your players will trust them the one time when it isn’t.

2. Let (apparently) less powerful NPCs sometimes know more than the players think they do. 

Most NPCs aren’t the Noble General or the Powerful Wizard. Most NPCs are Daves, designed to get the players from place to place. Most of those Daves know about as much as you’d expect them to. But some Daves have plans of their own.

You don’t always have to signpost with big blinking lights which of your NPCs are ‘important,’ and which ones are ‘unimportant.’ Sneak in a crafty Dave from time to time. That assistant they talk to, every time they go to see the prince? That bitch knows everything, and she’s almost ready to make her move. 

3: There is no such thing as a completely reliable witness. 

If the players only get information from one person, that information should be flawed in at least one, potentially small, but important way. Smart players will seek a second opinion, or at least allow for the possibility that their information may be incomplete. But even smart players get out over their skis sometimes.

4: Let your NPCs be aware of the power of a first impression. 

If an NPC gives a strong first impression of being a particular kind of person, it’s because they’re comfortable giving that impression. That might be because it’s who they are. But maybe not.

One of the first characters the PCs met in a VtM campaign I ran was Gawaine. Gawaine was a good old pine-scented man’s man, with salt and pepper stubble and a blue Ford truck. He listened to AC/DC, and talked about the war. He was affable and honest and willing to lend a hand. You already know Gawaine. Everybody knows a Gawaine. Gawaines are trustworthy, salt of the earth types. You don’t necessarily think to question a Gawaine.

That’s exactly why Gawaine was such a useful persona for Krystiyan, the Tzimisce Voivode, a cruel and alien sculptor of flesh who “never left his haven.” There were plenty of clues that they were the same person, but that campaign was in its endgame before the players put them all together.

5: Sometimes, dangerous and villainous NPCs should be helpful and cooperative. 

Not even necessarily because they’re manipulating the players, or even deceiving them about their true natures, but because their interests and the players’ interests genuinely align...for the moment. 

One of the easiest levers in your players’ brains to exploit is the expectation that people who help you are your friends. Even if your players know, consciously, that they shouldn’t trust this person, most of the time they kind of can’t help it, if the NPC is genuinely helpful to them and at least a little charismatic. 

6: Sometimes, good and valuable NPCs should be unhelpful and uncooperative. 

No matter how mature your players are, there’s a natural tendency to react to uncooperative NPCs with a reflexive, “Hey, fuck you! We’re the protagonists! This guy is an asshole!” so from time to time have a helpful, honest, good-aligned NPC have a wholly justified but as-yet-unknown-to-the-party reason to flatly refuse to deal with them.

7: Every NPC should have a secret. 

Not necessarily a bad secret. Were it to be revealed, it might even make the party like them more! But for their own reasons, the NPC does not want their secret to come out, and they will lie to the party to protect it. Players go crazy when they realize they’re being lied to, and often jump to some wild assumptions about your NPC’s motivations. I’ve had an NPC lie about the opening hours of a shop, and had the PCs assume that they were black market dealers for the villain when the dude just wanted to be able to close early so he could go smoke weed in the park.

8. As a DM, it’s polite to remind your players of the common knowledge their characters would possess...even when it doesn’t reflect the truth.

We all know it’s tedious when the DM calls for a roll when you’re just asking for common knowledge. I shouldn’t have to make a roll to know the dumb space word for plastic in a Star Wars game. I shouldn’t have to make a roll to know who the Holy Roman Emperor is in a game about medieval vampires. The DM should supply common knowledge for free, whenever it comes up.

That doesn’t mean common knowledge is true.

This is different from just lying to your players, because you don’t put the weight of DM word-of-God behind it. It’s not “You would know this guy is a Ventrue, based on XYZ.” It’s “it would be a common assumption that this guy is a Ventrue, based on XYZ.” He might not be a Ventrue. It might in fact be extremely important that he is not a Ventrue. But if it is commonly assumed that he’s a Ventrue, that is - word for word - something you can share with your players. If they don’t look any deeper than common knowledge, that’s on them.

9. Obviously untrustworthy NPCs provide great air coverage for less obviously untrustworthy NPCs.

The obviously untrustworthy NPC might or might not be planning to betray the party. But if you introduce two untrustworthy NPCs in the same storyline, and one of them seems normal and cool and has a genuine plot-related reason to be there, and the other one is Jaffar, Jaffar’s gonna get clocked, but Susan over there will probably slip under the radar, and might even get tapped to help out with the whole Jaffar situation. They might get Susan’s number, by the end of the session. Susan might become an ‘ally.’ Susan might even get romanced by a party member. Play your cards right, and Jaffar might just end up a footnote in the introduction of Susan, Scourge of Worlds and most hated NPC in the entire campaign.

10. Your villains should always have a secret plan B.

Your villain isn’t stupid, right? And your villain probably isn’t so arrogant that it is inconceivable to them that their plan might fail. They’ve been planning this ritual for ten thousand years, after all. It’s always possible that some plucky band of heroes could show up at the last minute and murder your high priest, or steal your amulet, or seduce your second in command. So what does your villain have in his back pocket to make the players go, “Oh, shit - he planned for this!”

This may mean that there is a whole separate plot happening, running alongside the main story. This is great, because when weird things happen, the players have to figure out whether this is part of Plot A or Plot B, and working out who did what and why gets a lot more interesting. If they end up foiling Plot A, great - your villain was also secretly behind Plot B the whole time, and will transfer all of his resources over to that. 

Sometimes your players will figure out that Plots A and B were both the same plot the whole time, with the same villain at the head, and they’ll feel like the smartest people on the planet, and it will be their favorite moment of the entire game. That’s great! You gave them that!

Sometimes, they won’t. And when the villain of Plot A, apparently defeated, starts laughing and reveals that he was also the mastermind behind Plot B, which is now too late to be stopped, that will probably be your favorite moment of the entire game.

[insertdisc5]

Hi, I really enjoyed the game's writing and all the interesting ways you explored the themes of the game! Mental health and relationships were very important, and especially the impact of memory. Did you ever take inspiration from illnesses like dementia when you were writing characters who struggled with memory loss? I know that cognitive decline can leave a person unrecognizable to themselves and others, and I wonder how much of those illnesses, if any, informed how you wrote your story?

hi! the amnesia is more of a metaphor for the grief of losing your culture/country than any actual illness, so i did some research to get my facts straight, and then just let my imagination go wild

[sophia-sol]

Every year at about this time (...very approximately) I post a reclist of 10 short stories I particularly enjoyed reading in the last year, all of which can be read online for free. Here's the latest list, and I hope you enjoy them as much as I did!

1. Sestu Hunts the Last Deer in Heaven - MH Cheung Beautiful and odd. A story of what happens after you've killed the gods, the unexpected realities and the things you have to live with. I love stories about after the climactic things traditional fantasy narratives are about, and this one excels!

2. If You Find Yourself Speaking to God, Address God with the Informal You - John Chu Two butch Asian weightlifter dudes bonding with each other and then dating, and one of them happens to have superpowers, but the superpowers aren't the focus. This is SO charming!!

3. Two Hands, Wrapped in Gold - SB Divya This is a really cool retelling of the classic fairy tale Rumpelstiltskin from the Rumpelstiltskin character's pov, building out the world and his background and making him a sympathetic character with a specific history. Haven't seen a fairy tale retelling quite like this before and it's great! And I say that as a connoisseur of fairy tale retellings.

4. A Farce to Suit the New Girl - Rebecca Fraimow A troupe of Jewish actors in Russia, in a time of political upheaval. This story has such a good and powerful feeling of activity and forward momentum, and of the way a community supports people even if things are weird or complicated! I love every single character and how firmly they are themselves.

5. Sheri, At This Very Moment - Bianca Sayan The sacrifices you make to spend time with the ones you love - a snapshot of one brief visit together, out of two lives that only rarely get to align. Made me teary the first time I read it!

6. Spirochete - Anneke Schwob An engaging second-person pov story about possession and identity. It has such a great sense of timing! And the last line GOT me even on second read when I hypothetically knew what was coming!

7. To Embody a Wildfire Starting - Iona Datt Sharma Ahhhhhh this story is so good at embodying the horrible complexities of the choices people make in the worst of situations, that good and bad and divine and evil and just plain personness can all reside in one being. Also it's about a dragon society and the revolutionary humans who tried to make everyone into dragons, and also about parent-child relationships, and also about a bunch of other things. God it's good.

8. Obsolesce - Nadine Aurora Tabing Is it really me if I don't have at least ONE story about robots in my rec lists? (actually I just went back and checked and in multiple previous years I inexplicably didn't, maybe it wasn't me writing the reclist in those years lol) ANYWAY who wants to have sad feelings about robots again! I know I always do! In a world where anyone who has a physical body instead of having their consciousness transferred is more and more obsolete, no matter if your body is human or robot, what do you hold onto? This one has a real good melancholy tone.

9. Letters from a Travelling Man - WJ Tattersdill ....does what it says on the tin. Letters to a dear friend, from a man travelling for the first time to the unfamiliar part of the world that friend comes from. I love the sense of place you get from the letters, as well as the deep and abiding importance of this friendship in both their lives. Another one I cried over!

10. Texts from the Ghost War - Alex Yuschik Another epistolary one, but this time in text messages instead of letters, and between characters who start the story antagonistically! About mech pilots in a ghost war, and making connections, and finding things to care about, even when stuff sucks. I love them!! (also, I am inescapably me, whoops, it took me until I read some fanfic of this story to realize that almost certainly the story was meant to be canonically shipping the two leads, I never notice romance unless there's anvil-sized indications.) Anyway this is a really good story!

[gay-jesus-probably]

Let me just preface this by saying everyone is allowed to have their own opinions, TOTK is a really fun game, and I'm glad that other people have been able to enjoy the story as well.

...But I'm being dead serious with my complaints about the narrative being 100% imperialist propaganda. And I'm getting really tired of people replying to those posts by saying it can't be imperialist propaganda, because imperialism is bad and the game says that Hyrule is the good guys.

Like, guys. That's not the argument you think it is. Yes, I am aware that the game tells us Ganondorf is a flat, one dimensional character with no ambitions, interests or motivations beyond destroying the entire world for the hell of it, and also it's totally not racist because he's green, not brown like literally every other member of his race. Unfortunately literally all of these things are kind of the entire goddamn problem.

See, the thing is, everyone trying to make these arguments is accepting the game at face value. Hyrule is the perfect and almighty nation chosen by the demigod Zonai, and whose royal family has the right to rule due to their divine heritage. The other races exist to serve the glory of Hyrule, and they're happy to do it. Ganondorf is pure evil and must be stopped at any costs.

But that's not how anything works. The story informing me that Hyrule is the ultimate good that has done nothing wrong is the whole goddamn reason why I don't trust Hyrule at all. There's always more of a reason than that. And the game fucking suggests there was more going on! Ganondorf mentions Rauru has repeatedly 'invited' the Gerudo to become Rauru's subjects, and let's be clear here, it doesn't matter how peaceful those 'invitations' were, when the guy who owns every single magical nuclear missile in the world repeatedly demands you surrender to him, there's always going to be an implied threat of 'do it or get magically nuked'. Just that power difference alone shows us exactly why Ganon would feel threatened enough to invade. It's because Rauru was holding a gun to his head, and Ganon was expected to just trust that he'd never pull the trigger.

And yes, even if it wasn't intentional Hyrule was always threatening to wipe out the other nations, considering the entire royal family walked around openly wearing their magical nukes as cute accessories. If they couldn't be safely hidden away, there wouldn't be four other secret stones sitting untouched in a vault until the last second.

But that's never acknowledged. Of course Hyrule is the only nation with the right to the secret stones; even if other races get to touch them, they can only have them if they swear eternal blind loyalty and servitude to the glory of King Rauru and Princess Zelda. Ganon wanting to have one magical nuclear bomb out of a stockpile of eight of them is proof that he's dangerous and evil. I mean my god, what if he just walked around all day wearing a magical nuke and using its power for his own benefit, that would be terrifying. It's only okay when Hylian royalty does it.

And you can't argue that Ganon betrayed his own people, considering we don't get to know fucking anything about his relationship with his people. He's shows as the leader of the Gerudo, we're told he's a hero to his people, he has soldiers that loyally follow him into battle... and then oh nevermind, they all hate him and will spend eternity trying to atone for sharing a race with him. How did the entire race do a complete 180 in the span of at most a few months? Who cares, what's important is that now they accept they exist to serve Hyrule so they get to be the good guys now and we don't need to know why they were following Ganondorf, or why they stopped following him.

Basically my point is that yeah, I fucking know how the game insists everything went down. That's the entire reason I think it's imperialist propaganda, because the entire story feels like Hylian propaganda to conceal and justify some horrific atrocities that caused all of this. I literally do not believe that I'm getting the story through reliable narrators, especially considering that the only people allowed to actually tell me the story are all the characters that have the most reasons to be heavily biased in favour of Hyrule.

When the game shows me protagonists that have a massive amount of power and control over the entire world, then says the bad guy doesn't like that system just because he's evil, and literally nothing and nobody in the game says anything to oppose that take, I have some questions about what the fuck the story isn't telling me. And I'd really appreciate it if people would stop trying to argue with me just by telling me to stop asking those questions.

[diamonds-of-the-first-water]

I Have Evolving Thoughts on Fran’s Sexuality

(god hannah dodd is so pretty)

First of all let’s thank GOD francesca is the queer sister and not…that other one.

Anyways upon my initial viewing of part 2 I definitely read Fran as bisexual and if you continue to read her as such I think that’s fine but my mind has changed on the matter.

I believe that Fran is actually a lesbian suffering from comphet.

The reason this actually started to seem likely to me is because of her wedding scene with John. The whole season I thought they seemed so taken with one another and I enjoyed their quiet dynamic. They were more than comfortable sitting in silence with one another and seemed to grow closer in that way.

I like many others assumed this meant their love was romantic, but that kiss

Would a woman who is attracted to men make this face after kissing the man she loves? I don’t think so. Some people seem to think it’s because she’s shy but it doesn’t seem like she’s even thinking about her family here. It seems like she has retreated into her own thoughts. It seems like she was disappointed. And after spending the whole season feeling nothing for any of the men she meets why wouldn’t she be. She met a man she loved and she kissed him and she didn’t feel those sparks.

Now Fran is also autistic coded so this initially affected the way I viewed her relationships as well, but all of that changes when you take into account Michaela.

Francesca immediately starts to stutter and is flustered when she sees Michaela. We have never seen Fran act this way with a man, even her husband. It wasn’t for no reason that Violet describes how she felt the first time she fell in love with Edmund and then almost immediately after Fran reacts the same way to Michaela. The butterflies, not being able to string a sentence together. This was foreshadowing.

Some people were upset because they said it erased everything Fran said about having a quiet love and that is somewhat true, but I disagree with people saying that it erases slowly built love when Polin’s whole story is about love not striking you like a bolt of lightning.

None of this is to say she can’t love John, I believe she does I just feel it is platonic, and the loss of John would hit hard even if he was her best friend. John is one of the great loves of her life but who is to say that love is romantic? Friendships are the foundation of our lives and they are equally as important as any romantic relationship. Fran met someone who understands her and is like her, that doesn’t mean she has to have romantic attraction for him.

Some of this is affected by personal bias as I am a late-blooming lesbian, but holy shit the way I relate to Fran wanting to get married just because it would mean she wouldn’t have to pursue any other relationships with men and the way she was willing to accept whoever the Queen deemed fit because she didn’t have any criteria except “is kind to me”. Fran does not seem to be searching for love as she has not felt it before. The closest she comes is with John because the two of them are so similar and I believe she thought that because she liked him so much that she must be in love with him which is just so…lesbian coded I don’t know how to explain it.

This isn’t to say bisexuality isn’t real or is “just a phase”. Ew. Gross. No. This is just the way I am interpreting the character with the information we have now. If it comes out definitely that she is bisexual then I will accept that, sapphic rep is so needed.

All in all they look so good and I can’t wait to see these queers kiss and have a romance.

Also I think that Michaela still could have fallen first. Fran just realized she was a dyke at that exact moment and her brain stopped working which is valid. But did you see the way Michaela looked at her. I KNOW A LESBIAN FALLING IN LOVE WHEN I SEE ONE.

[cursedvida]

It's really crazy to me to see the hate Mae gets, like I was reading some reviews and I can understand not liking a character but as soon as they start with the name calling their opinion is invalid to me because they have no reason to be calling her a bitch, among other things, like it just reeks of mysogyny, (it's like they just want an excuse to call women names) and seeing it coming from other girls makes it worse like..

"Oh the girl was such a bitch why did she do that 🙄" ..is it really that hard to think for a moment about the circumstances in which mae was raised?? Do they need it spell it out for them?? Like, c'mon guys do you really think that the people trapped in a bunker for generations have anything nice to teach/say about the apes?? Wes Ball please give us Mae's backstory in the sequel!! Your audience needs it bc they are out there calling Mae the real villain and saying Proximus was right 💀 (when he was literally everything Caesar hated in an ape)

Look, I'm usually a polite person when expressing my opinions, but I'm fed up with the hate towards Mae, basically because the arguments people give seem incredibly basic to me, typical of people with little to no understanding. Sometimes I doubt if these people have watched the same movie as me or maybe they have some sort of cognitive dissonance, but seriously, I find them ridiculous. Either that, or they are basically the typical comments from misogynistic guys or women with internalized misogyny who can't stand morally gray and questionable female characters.

And well, having said that, I'm going to present my doctoral thesis on this topic:

One of the things I've seen the most is people saying that Mae is evil, the true villain, or an ungrateful traitor to Noa. This argument seems quite incomprehensible to me because, even though we don't have much data about her, I believe there's something very important that explains why she acts as she does: the Proximus apes killed the people in her group, including her mother. I mean: her damn mother. If we add to that the UNDERSTANDING (I mean, you have to be very short-minded not to assume something so obvious) that she has been raised in an environment where they've probably told her all her life that the apes are the reason for all the evils of humanity and the main reason why humans live in shitty conditions, I think anyone with half a brain has enough information to understand why she does what she does.

Yes, Noa is a good guy, but he's not helping her. Noa and Mae have a common goal and decide to ally themselves momentarily to achieve that goal, which is to reach Proximus. As much as they've formed a bond throughout the story, it's not yet strong enough for Mae to set aside what she has worked for so hard. Mae not only bears the weight of humanity on her shoulders but also emotionally carries the idea that she, as the sole survivor of her group, must complete the mission at all costs. Are those who criticize her telling me that if they truly thought that with certain actions they could not only save their species but also honor their loved ones who have been killed infront their eyes, they wouldn't do them? And that they wouldn't do them for someone they've just met, no matter how much they like them? That's just not realistic, it makes no sense. We would all do the same as Mae in her situation. I mean, I have no doubts.

Another thing I love is when they say she's the "true villain" as if it weren't clear enough that she feels bad every time since she forms a bond with Raka and Noa when she does something that she knows may harm them. She feels pain for Raka's death and clearly, you can also see the conflict and remorse when she detonates the bomb. It's not something she enjoys doing, but she HAS to do it. In the final scene, even though she's carrying a gun, you can also clearly see her in conflict with herself. Clearly, she doesn't want to kill him. Clearly, she has nothing against Noa, and this is evident when she finally accepts the necklace and they even shake hands. You can't tell me that's the attitude of a villain, narratively it's not presented as such, and seeing it that way is to have understood nothing.

Mae is a complex character whose life is based on survival, she's no different from the characters we're used to loving and idolizing in other post-apocalyptic series, the difference here for me is that she's human and humans have to be bad by default and also that she's a woman. Because female characters always have to be the support, the romantic interest, or the unconditional friends of heroic male characters, and Mae is none of that. Mae is a character with her own story and ambitions that go beyond Noa's plot. Mae has her own plot, and it seems that's something that bothers people a lot.

I'm sorry, but the hate towards Mae seems very similar to the one people had for Sansa Stark in Game of Thrones, which basically stemmed from people being misogynistic and hating complex and imperfect female characters, combined with how much they hate seeing protagonist characters with such human and real characteristics that they can't bear the idea of seeing themselves reflected in them.

But hey, for Sansa Stark, I would have killed, and now for Mae too. Mae haters basically DNI

[yan-lorkai]

Hii, Lorks ~

Had see that your writing for my favorie earl now, have any hcs for older sibling reader and young brother Ciel? Sorry about bad english, is not my first language

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Been busy with uni stuff but nothing couldn't stop me from writing this now that inspiration strikes me and since we're having a new season I began to reread the manga these past few days and wow, I still love this lil dude. Look at his smiled he knows he's adorable. The Green Witch arc remains my favorite <3

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warning: Yandere content, platonic yandere, protectiveness.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ You were a few years older than the twins, but you were very close to them as well as being a constant figure for them as they grew up. You were what they would describe as the best sibling in the world, even though you liked to make fun of them and make jokes that embarrassed them in front of people, like any good old sibling would do.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ When you had free time, you enjoyed teaching them chess and other logic games, loving the way the expressions on their faces were confusing whenever you used a different strategy. These were simple times when the whole family would get together to watch you play while everyone chatted. Times that were lost after the attack, all the joy, all the warmth, that mixed with the sad blue of the wallpaper until it turned the entire mansion into something cold.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Ciel came back, lost, deeply hurt, and you were the only person he told what happened. The whole kidnapping and the cult, and it broke your heart, your brilliant little brother was an unresponsive blank as he recounted the facts, as if he didn't want to realize the impact that that event had on him. As if he was still on autopilot and couldn't let his guard down. And things were worse now that he had lost his twin brother, who he was as attached to as you were.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ But you were there to support him every step of the way, holding his hand after a nightmare, wiping the rare tears from his eyes, listening to everything he had to say. Ciel's stubborn and prideful, he never asks for help but he has this serene smile on his face when you go out of your way to help him anyway. You knew he was strong for withstanding all the pressure, for enduring everything he went through and for having the strength necessary to overcome everything, and you reminded him of that in each of his "weak moments". It reminded him that he was loved and that you would always be by his side.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He's still twelve, he's still a child, and you're always telling him stories to sleep and taking him out to take his mind off his trauma. Sometimes you just sit next to him and listen to him express his thoughts.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Ciel can be a little overprotective sometimes, which is funny considering you should be the overprotective one due to the age difference. He always sends Sebastian with you on your errands, to protect you from some attack or someone. And you don't complain, his intentions are good and you can understand the anxiety he feels upon knowing that those responsible for the attack are free and alive.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Being a few years older, you know a lot about balls, about every important person and how to negotiate with them. And you teach each of these things to Ciel when he decides to claim the title of Queen's Watchdog, giving advice and sharing your opinion whenever he asks you, being by his side as his left hand.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ And being his left hand means that you and Sebastian interact on a daily basis, protecting Ciel, going on missions together, collecting information and the such.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ In private, when your masks can finally fall, you call him by his real name, hug him lightly and let him know that no matter what, you'll be there for him. Always.

⠀

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Ciel actually told you everything, everything except that he made a contract with a demon. He hopes you can forgive him when the contract is completed, when he and his soul disappear from this world, without any chance of seeing you one last time in the so-called paradise.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Even after your death, Ciel might remember the loving way you sat in the chair next to his bed when he was sick and took care of him. He will remember the silly promises you made, the bad jokes you told him to make him laugh until his stomach hurt, the little adventures to steal cookies on Christmas morning. Things too precious for him.

[burnednotburied]

Chapter 1: A New Prophet

AO3 Link | Masterlist

Pairing: Abby Anderson x fem!reader

Fic Synopsis: Abby goes looking for Owen and ends up on the wrong end of your knife.

Tags/CWs: angst; slow burn; enemies to friends to lovers; animosity between WLF and Seraphites; blood/injury; cutting (not to self, but still); religious/cult-like ideas

Note: So the idea for this started as a prequel to my first fic (linked here), but ended up turning into something different. It basically follows the plot of Abby’s Seattle Day 1, diverging from canon where necessary and using dialogue from the game wherever possible.

This is a lot of build-up (important to the story and hopefully enjoyable to read), but I promise romance is on the horizon!

Also, the idea of deadnaming or misgendering Lev—even in the flashback part where they’re little kids and wouldn’t have known otherwise—physically pains me, so we’re going to pretend that reader has been calling Lev “L” as a nickname for forever.

Hope you enjoy! :)

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

April 2038

Abby knew as much about the Scars as any of her fellow WLF members.

She knew that the group was founded by a woman who claimed to have a vision after the initial outbreak of Cordyceps brain infection in 2013, and then started spouting some bullshit about how it was all just a punishment for the sins of humanity. Said that the way to move forward was to go back to the basics. Live off the land. Reject technology and progress and pretty much all the good things in life.

She knew that they live on the island but they wouldn’t fucking stay on it, and that there was once a truce but they broke it, forcing the WLF into an endless war.

She knew that they fought hard and killed brutally, without hesitation or remorse.

She knew that, especially now that Joel was taken care of, killing Scars was pretty much her life’s purpose.

And she knew that the woman who started all of this became known as The Prophet. And that Isaac gave the order to have her killed ten years ago.

It was for that reason that Abby thought Isaac must have misspoken when he opened with:

“The Prophet is on the move.”

He was standing over the large map of Seattle in the center of the room, hands braced on the table, head down in thought.

She didn’t know what to make of that. Or how to respond. A quick glance over at Manny confirmed that she wasn’t the only one who was confused.

One of them had to ask. It seemed Isaac wasn’t going to fill in the gaps unprompted.

“The Prophet?” Manny questioned hesitantly. “Sir… respectfully… She’s been dead for years. Died before we even joined.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I’m the one who killed her.” Isaac was always calm and measured, almost always spoke quietly. But sometimes there was something beneath his words, just below the surface. Something seething and kind of terrifying, although Abby would never admit that out loud. This was one of those times.

“My unwilling informants downstairs,” he said, referring to the captive Scars being held and interrogated on the building’s lower levels, “tell me that they have a new Prophet. One their Elders have been quietly grooming for the role for the last decade, maybe even longer.”

“Okay so… What does that mean?” Abby asked, finding her voice. This was not the conversation she was expecting to have when she heard that Isaac wanted to talk to them. She had hoped to get some answers about what was going on with Owen.

“There’s a reason why they’ve been more resilient lately. Bolder. Even more bat-shit than normal.” He clenched his fists on the table. “This… Neo-Prophet,” Isaac almost laughed, the words coated in venom, “is about to fully step into her role. She is of age now. Or so I’ve been told.”

Abby stared at Isaac, still waiting for him to tell her what all of this meant. And what exactly he wanted her to do about it.

Manny jumped in. “What? So the Scars are… celebrating? You’re saying that’s why they’ve been ballsier? Killing more of us. Pushing further inland.”

Abby let out a short laugh. “If this is what it looks like when they’re happy, I don’t want to see what happens when they’re mad.”

Isaac remained stoic. “They have a renewed sense of purpose. When we killed their first Prophet, the Scars were enraged. They fought hard for vengeance. But people will only fight on behalf of a dead woman for so long. Passion for the cause wanes without something tangible to fight for. They need that higher authority to look to. They need someone to honor and defend. Their Elders were smart enough to know that their people need a unifying symbol. A living one.”

“Right, and you said that unifying symbol was on the move so…” Abby said. “Want us to hunt her down? See what they’ll do when we take away their new favorite toy?”

“No,” Isaac said quickly. “She’s not our target. We’ll get to her in due time.”

“Then wha—”

He cut her off. “The Prophet will be leaving the island soon, for the first time. In fact, it’s possible she’s already here. One of our captives tells me there will be some sort of initiation for her. I don’t know what that entails, but I’m sure it will involve attempting to kill some of ours. I’ll spend some more time with our friends downstairs and see if I can’t get any more information on that. We’ll try to prevent it if we can, but that’s not our main focus right now.” Abby opened her mouth to protest, only to be cut off once again. “With the Prophet away and many of their best soldiers traveling with her, the island will be more vulnerable than ever.”

Manny gestured to the map, reinserting himself into the conversation. “Sir, we’ve tried attacking their island and—”

“Not like this,” Isaac said. “Not with everyone. There’s a big storm a few days out. We’re going to use it to mask our approach. And you two are going to lead the first wave. Pick your squads. Start prepping.”

“And the Prophet?” Abby asked.

“One battle at a time, Abby.”

“Are we sure it would be a battle?” she pressed. “Isaac, she’s just one girl.”

“You would be foolish to underestimate this unknown enemy. Besides the likelihood that the best of the Scars will be at her side, I don’t doubt that she will be a very skilled fighter in her own right.” Abby huffed. Isaac continued, “And if she’s anything like her predecessor, the greatest threat is in her words. Not her actions. I watched some of my most loyal soldiers abandon our cause for theirs after just one conversation with the one who came before her.”

At this, Abby raised her eyebrows, ready to argue. A look from Manny shut her up.

“We’ve only got one shot at this… And this is bigger than any of us.” Isaac pushed off the table, walking over to Abby and placing a hand on her arm. “I need you, Abby.”

She shifted uncomfortably before relenting, giving a curt nod. “Yeah, I get it.”

“Good.” He pulled away, heading toward the door. “Look over the plans and go through your rosters.”

“I want Owen,” she said. Abby thought Isaac could at least give her that.

When he denied her permission to go look for Owen, Abby went anyway.

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

March 2030 (8 Years Earlier)

The day of your scarring had been the first time Haven saw the sun in weeks.

Your mother said it was a sign. But your mother thought everything was a sign.

She told you that, no matter what, you were not to cry. That you, her only child, would not disgrace her by shedding tears during your ceremony.

You were to be brave. And strong.

The Prophet herself had ordained the act of scarring for all of her followers. A symbol of the innate imperfection of mankind. And so her people would never forget their own failings, even in the midst of their unending efforts towards perfection.

No one was meant to question the Prophet’s teachings, or the Elders who had taken on the responsibility of interpreting those teachings and carrying out Her will since Her death two years prior.

You could feel your mother’s breath against the back of your head as she huffed and decided that she was once again unsatisfied with your hair, roughly taking it down and beginning again for the fourth time.

While she worked, you sat still on the wooden stool in front of her and stared at yourself in the mirror, trying to memorize your features as they were now.

This was the last time you would see the face you knew. Next time you looked in the mirror, you would be different. Would you feel different?

You tried to picture yourself scarred, with two thin lines running from each of your ears to the corners of your mouth. Your eyes stung, tears threatening to fall at the thought.

But there would be no crying today.

Instead, you let your eyes wander to your mother’s reflection, hovering just behind and above yours in the mirror. You examined her face. Of course, you had never seen her without her scars, but you’d always thought your mother was beautiful.

Maybe the change in your appearance would not be so drastic. Maybe it was vain to care.

You were not supposed to be vain.

Once your mother was satisfied with the look of the braided crown of your hair, she gently placed her hands on your shoulders, meeting you gaze in the mirror.

“We are imperfect beings,” she recited. You joined your voice with hers for the second part, “And thus we make ourselves imperfect in Her eyes.”

She smiled softly, squeezing your arms lightly. “Good girl. I’m proud of you. I know you will do wonderfully today.” You tried to return her smile. “Now. Get dressed. I laid your clothes out on the bed.”

She turned to leave you, pausing in the doorway. “Remember what I said, child. No tears today. Do you understand?”

You nodded quickly. Obediently.

She seemed pleased as she left the room.

You changed quickly, wondering if she had been able to tell that you’d spent the whole night before crying. You hadn’t gotten a minute of sleep.

The stool squeaked as you sat back down, not sure what to do with yourself while you waited. You met your own eyes in the mirror once more, this time immediately averting your gaze. You felt sick. And close to tears. And so very scared.

On the other side of the door, you could hear Yara and her mom greeting your mother. The eight-year-old asked if she could come inside to see you. After just a moment of hesitation, your mother allowed it, and you could hear the slight creak of the door as she came in.

Yara said your name quietly, standing just inside the door. You turned to look at her. She smiled, happy to see you, just as always.

“Happy birthday!” she whispered excitedly, closing the distance between you and wrapping her arms around you tightly. You squeezed her back, holding her close for longer than usual. Yara, never one to be the first to break a hug, lingered for as long as you wanted her there.

You were neighbors, and your mothers had grown up together and had always been close. And although Yara was four years younger than you, the two of you were close too. She and five-year-old baby L were your siblings, as far as you were concerned.

Yara was mature for her age, even more so than most of your other friends. You knew you could trust her, so with her you were honest.

“I’m really scared,” you said quietly into her hair, still not releasing her from the embrace.

“I know,” she whispered back, squeezing you even tighter. “You’re the bravest person ever though. I know you can do this.”

You finally let go, retreating back to your stool, but Yara stayed close by, rubbing your shoulder comfortingly with one hand.

“She will be with you through this, and for all the days of your life,” she said, earnest. “Our pain is Her pain, and Her pain is ours.”

You couldn’t help but make a mental note of the fact that the Prophet actually did not receive the same scars as all of her followers, so perhaps this one specific pain is one that was not, in fact, shared between to two of you.

But Yara’s comment was made with a level of sincerity that you couldn’t help but admire—and borderline envied—so you chose to keep your thoughts to yourself.

Her presence was always a comfort, so you allowed yourself to relish in it for a quiet minute before your mother reentered the room.

“It’s time to leave,” she said simply. Firmly.

Behind her, just outside the door, you could see Yara’s mom standing there, holding a quiet but curious little L’s hand. They would all be walking over with you to witness the ceremony.

You forced yourself to stand, brushed your hands down your thighs as if to clear some nonexistent dust and smooth the phantom wrinkles. For a moment, you considered taking one last look in the mirror, but ultimately deciding against it. It would feel strange to do so, now that everyone was watching you and waiting.

For the briefest moment, you thought about making a run for it. Stealing a boat or even attempting to make the swim to the mainland. You could survive on your own, or maybe even join the Wolves. You weren’t scarred yet. You could lie about where you came from, and they would probably take you in…

The hiss of your name from your mother’s mouth ripped you back into reality, along with a gentle nudge from Yara.

You took a deep breath and started walking.

Once the home of the Prophet herself, Sanctuary was one of your people’s primary places of worship, second only to Martyr’s Gate on the mainland. (You had never seen it – You’d never left the island – so Sanctuary was where you most often prayed.)

Scarring ceremonies were held there, always on a child’s twelfth birthday.

You had witnessed many friends receive their scars. It was customary to attend the ceremonies of those close to you. Family, friends.  

The process was always the same.

Elder Constance would lead all those gathered in a prayer, holding the ceremonial blade. You would recite a version of the Prophet’s Prayer. The blade would be blessed. Then Elder Duncan would make the incisions before welcoming you as an official member, a child of the Prophet.

It never took very long. Everyone had work to get back to, tasks to fulfill.

You would soon come to find that your ceremony would not be like any of those others.

The first indication of this was the sheer number of people who were gathered at Sanctuary. You had never seen this many people gathered in one place at one time, many of the faces you did not recognize.

As you approached the dais, the crowd silently parted for you, all eyes examining you carefully as if looking for something unseen. You couldn’t begin guess what it was.

You wanted to go home. You wanted to cry. To hold your mother’s hand. You wanted to not be here at all. Ever. For this to be a horrible nightmare.

Why were there so many people here?

Your eyes met Elder Constance’s. She was stiff and serious, as always, but there was a brightness in her eyes that you were not accustomed to seeing. A quick glance at Elder Duncan revealed a similar expression on his face.

The other five Elders also stood on the stage. Another thing that was unusual for a simple scarring ceremony.

Had you done something wrong? Were you in trouble?

You looked ahead, and your legs continued to carry you forward, despite your internal protestations.

When your feet were nearly touching the first step up, you stopped. And although your mind went blank, your body remembered what to do.

You bowed your head to each of the Elders, silently waiting to be greeted and invited onto the dais.

“Welcome, child, on this most joyous day!” Elder Constance’s voice boomed, carrying enough for everyone gathered to hear. “Come. Join us.”

You fought the urge to turn around and find your mother. You wanted to look at her face, to see if she knew what was happening.

But you knew that any moves you made in this moment other than exactly what was expected of you would be seen as hesitation, and therefore disgraceful. And you didn’t want your mother to be angry.

So you did as Elder Constance said, and you climbed the steps.

Your vision blurred. You tried to focus on your breathing.

“Two years ago, the ignoble Wolves took our beloved Prophet from us,” she began once you were standing center-stage. The reaction from the audience was instantaneous, full of outrage and despair. Elder Constance allowed this to continue for several moments before holding up her hand; and the noise stopped just a quickly as it began.

“But She is not dead! For the Prophet’s spirit cannot be killed by the evils of mankind.” The crowd hung on her every word as she continued, “She lives in all of us. In our actions and in our virtues. In Her teachings.”

“Here before you are all of your Elders, appointed to this honorable position by our Prophet, most wonderful and wise. She speaks to us, and it is our duty—our privilege—to share her words with you.”

“But today, She does not have words for us.” Elder Constance paused, the audience hushed, waiting for the reveal. “It is Her heavenly desire to give us a new source of hope. An advocate. A champion… A new Prophet.”

Elder Constance’s hands landed on your shoulders.

“Today, She has chosen Her successor.”

The crowd erupted in celebration.

You went completely numb and tuned them all out.

The Elders continued to speak, and the people continued to celebrate. All the while, your mind was reeling and your face was blank.

A new Prophet?

There can’t be a new Prophet.

What does that even mean?

There have never been any prophets except for THE Prophet.

And if there does need to be a new Prophet, why would it be you?

Why you?

Why you?

Why you?

It can’t be you.

If any of your questions were answered, you didn’t hear it above the ringing in your head.

Your attention was drawn to the blade that was now in Elder Constance’s hands, and you forced yourself to again begin to listen.

“…The Neo-Prophet will take on her full responsibilities when the time is right. But until then…” She continued on with familiar words, ones used in a typical scarring ceremony to bless the blade before it was used.

The knife was then passed down the line of Elders, each of them lifting it above their head and reciting the same words.

Your legs suddenly felt very weak.

Elder Duncan blessed the blade last and stepped forward, positioning himself just a couple feet away from you. You turned to him just as you knew you were supposed to.

This was the part in the ceremony when you would usually say a version of The Prophet’s Prayer. You weren’t sure if you were still meant to do that, given the circumstances, but you were operating solely on instincts now, so you began, “The world is not in balance, but I will do my part to right it.”

You weren’t speaking nearly as loud as the Elders had. You hoped you were loud enough. You hoped you were doing it right.

The pleased look on Elder Duncan’s face indicated that you had done well, but before you could go on with the next line, all of the Elders continued the prayer together:

“You will lead us through the storm May the current be calm May You guide us home.”

Their words had been slightly altered from the classic prayer, different than you would’ve said it if you had been given the chance. The strangest part was that they were speaking to you.

Almost like they were praying to you…

Elder Duncan took another step forward, gripping the knife.

You expected him to use his other hand to lift your face, to hold it at the best angle for the scarring. You’d seen him do the same to others many times before.

This was the part that you knew was coming. You had been at least attempting to prepare for it. You could handle it.

But you were thrown off once again when instead, he took your right wrist in his free hand and gently pressed your fingers down, making you form a fist. He then lifted your hand until it was by your ear, knuckles facing inward, arm bent at the elbow. His own hand gripped your elbow, holding your arm in place.

You were frozen, with no choice but to watch as the knife met the outside of your forearm and sank in. A slow, straight line was carved from the top of your wrist all the way to your elbow.

You didn’t look away. You didn’t cry. You did as you were told.

You wanted to go home.

“We are imperfect beings. And thus, we make ourselves imperfect in Your eyes.” Elder Duncan said, meeting your gaze. “It is for this reason that we proudly wear our scars on our faces.”

When his work was done, he released your right elbow and moved on to the left, lifting that arm into the same position. “But the Prophet, in Her kindness, bears the weight of our imperfections, carrying all of us in her arms. This is why You will wear your scars here.”

“Remember that You are part of us, but set apart.” The blade pierced the skin of your left forearm, and a twin incision was formed. “We look to You, Prophet. May She guide you. May She protect you.” With that, he took a step back, lowering the knife.

You slowly lowered your arms to your sides and turned back to face the enraptured crowd.

Finally, you found your mother among them.

And she was crying.

“My friends,” Elder Constance declared, gesticulating dramatically, “Your Prophet!”

The cheers were deafening.

As you scanned the masses, you felt the blood ooze down your arms and curl around your fingers, pooling on the ground by your feet.

You found Yara, who was somehow clapping and cheering more enthusiastically than anyone else. And then you saw L, held up on their mother’s hip, face concerned, eyes wide and wary.

At least someone was as skeptical as you were.

You wondered if you would get to go home now.

But Elder Constance placed her hands on your shoulders again, this time turning you and leading you in the opposite direction, into the Prophet’s grand house. Into Sanctuary.

There, servants’ gentle hands carefully cleaned your stinging wounds, took down and brushed out your hair, and helped you change into a new white dress.

You would never live in your mother’s house again.

And it would be eight years before anyone addressed you by your name.

[scarofthewind]

Teach Me || Princess!Reader x Prince!Brahms

A/N: Finally got to sit down and write and this is the mess I came up with! This is part of my Princess!Reader series and for this, Brahms is a prince that is hanging out around the brothel and comes across his betrothed reader (who doesn't know him) and the rest is smut. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: SMUT, Brahms being a crazy stalker man who teacher reader how to please her new husband (it's him).

Word count: 3.2K

The Scarred Prince is what they called him. Known for being cruel and cold, killing anything that crossed him. His face adorned with a mask that covered his gruesome face, burned from a terrible fire that took half his castle and family with it. His father was a kinder man, only needing this marriage due to his home and people dying out; the funding and bringing together two families would put life into everything.

That's what your father told you as he shattered your world. Sure, you knew you had to marry, you were a beautiful Princess. However, your future husband you were unsure of. Your mother begged your father to not accept the offer, you were too important to the kingdom to be married off to such a barbarian. His decision was final.

You were to be wed to a man who you only heard horror stories about and there was nothing you could do about it.

Well, you could prepare. You assumed that with him being a foul man, he would be a rough lover and if there was one thing a marriage led to, it was consummation. Your mother and maids had given you brief information about how to please a man, always saying that it was more pleasurable for them than you. You needed to learn how to please such a man; if he thought you couldn't do it, he might kill you.

With your mind made up, you slipped on your coat, pulling the hood up to cover your face. You managed to slip out of castle by creeping through the shadows and soon you were stepping out onto the street. The night life was bright as those who favored darkness moved about; your eyes scanning building as you passed them. The place you seeked was in a secluded area a few streets away from the castle gates, curtains for an entrance and candles for light. Hesitantly, you reached out to push open the silk curtains but they opened for you, a beuatiful women greeting you with a smile.

"Princess, are you lost?" Her red lips smiled and you noticed how low cut her dress was, breasts spilling out over the top.

"Actually, I am here for help." You whispered, letting her usher you inside. Immediately, you grew hot. The smell of sex and smoke in the air along with perfume, men and women frolicked around naked and carefree. Some were fucking and some were more passionate and it was all beautiful and new. "I am to be wed and I don't know what I am doing. How do I please him?"

The woman nodded with a smile, "I understand, I was new to this once. Must be a bit shocking for you." You nodded and reached into your coat pocket, pulling out a small pouch of coins.

"I appreciate your secrecy. No one can know I was here." You handed the woman the pouch and she took it gently, stuffing it beside her breast.

"Of course, Princess. Right this way." She took one of your hands and led you carefully through the building. Private rooms were all around you but you could hear everything. Moans and grunts, skin slapping against skin, laughing and even yelling. Your body felt hot, arousal pooling in your stomach just from what you could sense around you; you could understand why people came to places like this.

"Here, there is someone I think could help you with your problem right behind these curtains." The woman stopped in front of a private area and you felt your heart race. You froze for a second, not sure if you should continue. The woman noticed and gave your shoulder a pat. "You'll be okay. He is new as well. He can not hurt you, it's against the rules and if he breaks those, I'll have him thrown out." With a large breath, you nodded and reached for the curtains, pushing them open and stepping inside the small space.

Your heart stopped as the curtains fell closed behind you.

"Well this is interesting," The man's voice was deeper than you expected as he leaned forward in his spot on the cushion pile. "Does daddy know his princess is out this late, and at a place such as this?" His tone made your eye twitch and you removed your hood, stepping further into the room.

"I need to learn how to please a man. Thought I would come to the best teachers." You unsnapped your coat button and shrugged the wool off, tossing it to the side and sitting down across from the man. Your eyes met his and you sucked in a breath. "Why the mask?"

Curly hair poked out around the porcelain mask strapped to his face as bright, predatory eyes stared you down. "Maybe you aren't the only one hiding something, Princess."

You hummed in response. "Fine. So, can you teach me or not?"

The man moved closer to you and reached out, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I wonder how much you can truly handle." You shivered and jerked back, a chuckle leaving his lips. "First things first, depending on your betrothed, he will either want you to be naked before he comes knocking on your door, or" he paused, tracing a finger down your neck. "He'll strip you himself."

"What would you do?" You asked, his eyes snapping back to yours. He felt himself smile at your words, playing right into his hands.

Brahms, a prince known to be cruel and hideous, hid behind his mask as he planned all the ways he could ruin his future wife. The minute he found out you were to be his, he snuck into your town and began watching you. Beautiful and eager to live your life to the fullest. He was entertained by you; so, when he was you slip out into the night with one destination in mind, he followed.

He had slipped into the back while you mingled with the owner, disposed of the man who usually ran the room you were in now and acted in his stead. Brahms would be damned if someone else got to fuck you before him. His fingertips moved along the neckline of your dress as he replied, "I'd peel these clothes off you with my fucking teeth." Your goosebumps and the way you sucked in a breath made his cock twitch against his pants.

"The lace on the back is easily undone." You pushed him with your words, your eyes drifting down his bare torso litered with dark brown hair and muscle. “Undress me, Sir.”

“Brahms,” he growled, reaching behind your back to yank you closer to him. His fingers worked on the ties to your dress, loosening it and slowly pushing it off you. “When you come later, you will call me Brahms, understand, Princess?”

You nodded quickly, chest heaving as he exposed your top half to the warm air, your nipples pebbling in the process. “Lie back.” He commanded and you obeyed, your back meeting soft pillows as he moved the dress down your body, throwing it across the room when he got it off. Brahms crawled over you, stopping as he met your eyes. “Some men don’t take care of their lady wives. Using them as things that make their heirs and that’s all. I don’t believe in that.”

“What do you believe in?”

“Passion.” He answered quickly, running his hands down your sides. “Both parties need to be satisfied or it is a failed fuck. A woman has so much to offer other than a child.” His eyes scanned over your body, thumbs gently tracing your nipples. “You came here to learn how to please your husband. Have you ever considered that he needs to be the one pleasing you?”

“You speak of things that aren’t likely. My betrothed is known for being evil.” Your words made Brahms sit back, placing his hands on your knees and spreading your legs to slot himself between.

“You don’t know him, only of him. He’d be lucky to touch your beautiful body.” He said as he reached to remove your panties. His mind pushed back the negative thoughts that whirled around as he saw just how aroused you were.

“After undressing, I like to touch here. It eases the pain for when my cock enters.” Brahms spoke gently as his fingertips traced along your pussy. His eyes never left your face, taking in your unsure expressions as his fingers entered you carefully. He watched as your mouth opened with a breathy gasp; a mouth so perfect he'd nearly come thinking about how it would feel around his cock.

"Are all men this experienced?" You asked innocently and when Brahms chuckled you felt a heat of embarrassment wash over you. His fingers slowly moving inside your cunt made you clench your thighs, only for him to shove them back open.

"No," was all he said in response, this thumb flicking over your clit and making you jump at the sensation. "How does it feel Princess?" His words made you moan as he angled his fingers towards a spot inside you that had you trembling.

"It feels fine, but I've done this myself," pushing back you sit up slightly, watching Brahms tilt his head in confusion. "I came here looking for something I cannot do on my own." Once you clarify your words, you hear a snort from the man before you.

"I was trying to be a gentleman and treat you softly," he sighed, reaching to unlace his bottoms, pushing them down to let his cock free. Your eyes followed as he pumped his length a few times before leaning back on the pillows; an invitation. "You want to please your husband? Suck his cock."

If you weren't hot already, you were now as you moved towards him. His cold eyes followed your every move, and you found yourself entranced by the pure power he held within them. A hand came up to your face, brushing your hair away and using a thumb to trace your bottom lip. With trembling fingers, you placed your hands on his chest, feeling the solid muscle and hair there, running them up and down. "Are you afraid, Princess?" He asks suddenly, your eyes snapping back to his.

"No. Just unsure." At your words, Brahms takes one of your hands and guides it to his cock, hard and soft under your palm. You swear you can hear a soft breath come from under his mask, but you push the thought aside as you wrap your fingers around his base. Sliding down to become more comfortable, you look closely at how perfect his cock was. Pale and long with a soft pink tip that you found yourself leaning towards to kiss. Your lips found his cock to be soft and when you wrapped them around his cockhead, a subtle salty flavor welcomed your tastebuds.

"Gods Princess, I think you were made to do this." Brahms groaned, running his hands through your hair and nudging you down to take more of his cock. He watched intensely as you sucked more of him down, his cock disappearing into the warm walls of your mouth. Brahms could only keep his composure for so much longer; he ached to fuck you and at this point, he was trying his hardest not to snap.

His mask was getting hot against his face as he groaned and breathed warm air out of his lungs. It itched to be ripped off, but he couldn't remove it; not yet.

Your jaw began to ache as minutes went by with you taking his cock and you felt your cunt grow wetter by the second. Your clit swollen with need and your walls clenching around nothing. Swatting his hand from your hair, you removed your mouth from around his member and sat up. No smart remarks were said, both of you feeling beyond aroused and needy in this moment. Brahms grabbed your hips and tugged you against him, your hands bracing on his chest as you straddled his lap.

You found yourself wrapping your arms around his neck but the minute you tried touching the ties to the mask on the back of his head, you were shoved down on your back, Brahms following on top of you. Rough hands pinned your wrists to the ground as he nuzzled his cock against your pussy. "Not yet." He said deeply, letting you go once you nodded in understanding.

When he gently pushed into you, you felt yourself go absolutely still. Nothing could have prepared you for the warmth or the fullness you felt as he sunk into you. Your fingers gripped the pillows under you tightly and Brahms paused, noticing this. He rubbed your hips and legs, pulling them around his waist. "The pressure goes away quickly, just breathe, (Y/N)." Your eyes locked on his and for the first time in your life, you felt sure of something. This stranger before you didn't baby you or belittle you like the others at the castle or the friends you grew up around. He treated you like a normal person, not royalty.

"I hope by husband is kind to me during this moment," your eyes watered slightly, and Brahms felt himself swell with pride knowing you felt comfortable around him throughout this.

"He will be." He assured you, pressing his hips against you and groaning at the feeling of your pussy taking his cock fully. Brahms waited for a moment to let you adjust before rocking his hips. The sounds that immediately came from your mouth were music to his ears. "Fuck, your beautiful." He moaned, watching the way your breasts bounced with each thrust. His mouth needed to be on you, he was going to lose his mind if he couldn't.

"Close your eyes." He grunted, not pausing his movements.

"Why-"

"Just do it," he snapped, and you did, your senses heightening as you welcomed the darkness behind your eyelids. It was quiet for a second and a small thud had you opening your mouth to ask a question but before you could, a mouth crashed onto yours.

With the porcelain wall gone, his lips were rough on yours and the beard he had scratched along your face, but it felt wonderful. His soft lips molding with yours, his tongue moving in your mouth and his cock ruining you for anyone else had you melting against him. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him flush against you, his thrusts picking up in strength and your moans and gasps being swallowed by his mouth. "Brahms," you moaned, your voice making his cock twitch.

"Not yet," he growled, moving off of you and rolling you on your stomach, his cock re-entering you faster than you could comprehend what was happening. His breath was hot on your neck as his teeth marked you, his fingers moving down to your breasts, pinching and rolling your nipples between them.

"I need to cum," you panted, wanting to feel the wave of euphorira you longed for this while evening. You felt your cunt clenche around his length as it pumped into you harshly, lewd sounds of skin on skin and the melody of voices experiencing pleasure made your head dizzy. "Brahms please," you begged, taking one of his hands from your breast and pushing it to your clit.

Unsure of why he wasn't responding, you felt yourself look back and you immediately froze. You weren't sure if it was fear or excitement or confusion but the man fucking you was the man you had thought to fear. The bright color of his eyes was intense, almost scary, as he looked down on you. There was no mistaking the scar on his face and who he was. "You."

Your voice was so soft, he could barely hear you. Brahms watched as you stared at him, not moving a muscle, but you didn't run. Slowing down his thrusts, he sighed and pushed his hair from his face. "I couldn't let your first time be with a random man whore. You're my wife-"

"Soon to be, not yet." You pointed out, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You felt Brahms' fingers tighten on your hips in reaction to your words.

"You are mine either way. Today or next week, you are mine and will be until you die. You wanted to learn, and I was just lucky to be in the neighborhood. What if you had gotten a disease or pregnant from a commoner? I saved you from those vile things, Princess." He spoke with a sharp tongue and you felt yourself tingle with uncertainty.

He had his points but that didn't stop a dark and strange feeling from creeping up your spine. A soft hand on your cheek made you look at him. "I will never hurt you. I didn't do this to hurt you, only to protect you." You didn't believe him fully, but you moved to where you were on your back again, pulling him against your front. If he was barbaric, it was best to play along rather than fight.

"Thank you, my Prince." Your words sent Brahms' head spinning and he leaned down to kiss you, hips moving again to chase the high you both needed.

While he kissed along the column of your neck and down to your nipples, sucking on them tenderly, you thought of all the things that this man had probably done with the same hands he was using to bring you closer to your climax. You were just a Princess, you couldn't do anything to object this marriage and with how he felt while fucking you, you weren't sure if you wanted to fight. If he really was the Scarred Prince everyone said he was, he didn't show you, at least not tonight.

"Brahms," you whined as his fingers rubbed against your clit, building the pressure in your stomach until you were pulsing around his as you came. Your body twitched against his and he didn't stop his motions until he had you coming again, this time while he followed. Neither of you moved for a while afterwards, his cock softening inside you and your heart racing in your chest.

Brahms spoke first, "I might need to get you back to the castle, Princess. I'm sure a search party would be sent out soon." As he moved away from you, he felt your hands reach out and cup his face.

"Not yet. I still have to learn a few things." You said with laugh, gently tracing the edge of his scarred face.

Brahms chuckled, shaking his head and kissing your palm. "We have our whole life together. I will teach you more when we are married." Pulling you against him, he pressed his lips to yours again, kissing you as if you gave him life.

A sudden scream had you pulling away from one another and Brahms felt himself smile and he yanked you both to your feet. They must've found the poor bastard's body, he thought. "We need to get you home now, (Y/N)."

"What's happening?" You asked worried as he helped you slip your dress back on, stuffing your panties in his pocket.

"Probably a fight. Let's go out the back." He said, quickly getting dressed and pulling you with him into the night.

[maebird-melody]

I finished Naomi Novik's Spinning Silver. Y'all. Such a beautiful book. It did, in some ways, go the way of Beauty and the Beast with the love interests. The romance with the tsar was implied at the end, but much more explicit with the Staryk lord. So while I had perhaps hoped it might have ended in them escaping the trappings of forced marriage, I can't be entirely mad. The romance was earned.

I had more coherent thoughts about this last night when I was lying in bed, thinking about the book, but wanted to share what little I still remember.

There was another theme that I picked up on the further I read, which was this: what you do in the end is more important than why you are doing it, how long it took you to get there, or what you did before. So many times, characters do good things for their own self-benefit, and the book doesn't condemn this motivation. It is a neutral thing. Everyone has their own reasons for doing what they do. Irina wants to save her homeland from war and starvation, and it doesn't matter what happens to anyone else. At first, Miryem wants to win back for her family what her father's kindness has stolen, in the way of health and wealth. And then, she wants to win back her freedom to make a future of her own choosing. Wanda wants a full belly and to avoid her father's beatings and his plan to sell her for drinking money. First she is only concerned for herself, but then for her brothers, too.

And there's a second part to this theme: you can change your mind. When presented with new information, each character changes their mind about their course of action, and takes a different course instead. Character growth is less about become a better person, and more about how learning about others changes your perspective and naturally leads to different actions. Even the proud Staryk lord, when Miryem proves her worth over and over, reassesses and changes his behavior towards her. But he has not become less proud, he has not changed who he is.

Ultimately, this is a book about people making decisions, about those who influence those decisions, and the actions that follow.

Also, the romance is incredibly understated, which is a huge bonus in my book.

I enjoyed it immensely and could see myself coming back to this story and reading it again.

[italianpersonwithashippersheart]

The Importance of Tone

If you want more info on Tone there is this video (Trope Talk. Tone Armor from OSP) that speaks about Tone Armor which is not 1 to 1 applicable to BLs but informs the general idea of what I mean when I say consistent Tone and establishing/breaking it.

What the 4 Minutes finale and Kidnap and Jack And Joker all airing close together taught me, is that there is nothing more important for a show (especially a bl and bl adjecent shows) then nailing it's tone and sticking to it.

@waitmyturtles post about the four minutes finale made me think finalize my thoughts on this.

Establishing a tone at the start is going to tell the audience what to expect. If the show starts light and unserious like Kidnap and Jack and Joker. Then the audience can expect to turn their brain off and enjoy the romance. If the show starts Serious with Big Themes or establishing a show as a Messy Queer show like 4 Minutes and Only Friends then your audience is going to turn their brain on and expect you to follow that tone all the way to end.

It's possible to successfully break the tone, but one you have to do it with intention and two (and this is the most important part) is super fucking difficult to go from serious and dark to light and unserious. A light and unserious show can go more serious and deeper (Pit Babe did that for me, it started with unserious show but it did end up with some nice serious themes and a tinge of bittersweetness at the end). But a show that starts serious and messy queer show is going to have a fucking hell of an impossible time moving into light and unserious romance especially if you only do that at the end.

Not saying that serious shows can't have light moments or a happy ending just that it needs to do more work into going in that direction and that those light moments and happy ending need to feel like they come as a result of the narrative. As an example look at The Full Pornographer series. That one has a happy ending eventually (if you watch it all) and feels earned and like it doesn't break the tone the story establish.

Another thing that clicked for me (thanks to this post by @negrowhat) is that you can't rely on actor chemestry to sell the romance and the tone shift/break into said romance as focus. Because chemestry is super subjective for exemple I personally think Jes and Bible have great phsyical chemestry but not a lot of romantic chemestry. And if the writing is not there to back up the romantic tone then you have a chunk of your audience who is just not going to buy the romance.

A show that has a good solid writing is going to win people over even if they don't see the chemestry. For example for me I didn't see KristSingto chemestry in Sotus. It just wasn't there for. BUT the writing sold me on their love story. Sure it's not my favorite BL but I can say that the writing of their romance is really good and I do have the wish to try again with that (and Be My Favorite) and see if I can get more into it emotionally. Because the writing holds up. I would never do that with Great Tyme because the writing is just not there.

[lurkingshan]

Unknown Episode 11

Well, let me get this out of the way upfront. This episode brought us to the big moment we've all been waiting for, the final turn in Yuan and Qian's relationship--and unfortunately, it didn't quite land.

I've been sitting with this episode, contemplating my disappointment with the first sequence, and I think it comes down to this show that has been so assured and confident through most of its run faltering at the crucial moment and seeming to lose faith in its own storytelling to the point that it used editing tricks to compensate. The choice to chop up and sequence this narrative lynchpin of a scene out of order is baffling, and it's a choice that significantly stepped on the most important emotional climax of the story. I was confused to go from the conversation outside to a sudden kiss, then disappointed when we cut back to a very short exchange between Qian and Yuan that was supposed to provide the basis for this turn with only some thin dialogue that didn't connect the beats of the scene, and then into an intense sexual encounter (that was constantly interrupted by repetitive flashbacks) that should have felt like a triumphant and revelatory moment but didn't because of the way we got there.

I know I'm not the only one feeling that way, since folks have been creating and distributing reedited versions of the scene, and Youku actually uploaded a new version free on YouTube with all the flashbacks removed (a clear move toward fan appeasement after the show received a lot of negative feedback on the scene). The editing and the flashbacks were annoying, but honestly the fundamental problem was the scene they wrote did not sufficiently sell the change for Qian--he goes from saying he is still not certain what he wants to being ready to be dicked down in a couple minutes' time, with nothing in the exchange providing any new information or impetus for the shift. The performers did great work but unfortunately the writing and directing and editing decisions around this sequence were just bad; it's frustrating for this to happen with arguably the most important scene of the romance.

A note about the novel: the way this final turn happened there was quite different and, candidly, better in just about every way, from the impetus for the change to the beats of the revelation to the progression of physical intimacy on a pace that felt much more attuned to the emotional complexities at play. I do not know why the show did...this when they had better source material content to work with, but here we are. I absolutely recommend that anyone who loves this show read it!

So, with that disappointment expressed, on to the rest of the episode, in which Yuan and Qian settled into their couple era. I was deeply amused by Qian taking to their sex life like a moth to a flame to the point of daydreaming in meetings, but I do wish the episode had focused more on the natural tension and role confusion that should have resulted from this huge shift in their relationship. They touched on that a bit in the scene where Yuan asked Qian if his hug was from his brother or his boyfriend, but they didn't delve into those complexities in the way I hoped they would. I enjoyed their date at the local restaurant (and loved their friendly neighborhood gangster helping to set the mood) and how much it felt like they were surrounded by their history as they moved through all of these familiar locations where they've had important moments. I didn't much care for the insertion of the health scare plot or the time spent on Le and the doc, though I'm always happy for more Sam Lin even if it comes in the form of a weird late stage and wholly unnecessary ship.

My favorite scene between Yuan and Qian in this episode was far and away the discussion on the stairs with Qian reflecting on his fears of becoming more like his mother and Yuan biting him to snap him out of his fatalistic attitude (this felt like such a classic Priest tribute, she always has biting in her romances). It was a helpful re-centering of what they do for each other and why Yuan is an important presence in Qian's life. I didn't think we needed the health scare for Qian, but I did love Qian choosing to go to this place where he found Yuan to contemplate his life and what matters, with Yuan in turn reflecting that even though he's seen a lot more of the world now, he still prefers to come home to this street. I found that exchange so moving and I think it was important for Qian to hear that.

And that scene led to my other favorite thing in this episode, which was everything to do with Lili and her bond with her brothers. I teared up to see her standing against the wall where Qian has measured their growth talking about the sneaky ways she would try to care for Qian when they were younger, with San Pang listening attentively and gazing at her adoringly. It was such a small moment, but a really lovely window into their relationship dynamic and the shared history they also have together. And when Yuan and Qian came in hand in hand and she just ran to them and offered up her love and acceptance, I felt so much warmth for this family and everything they've survived together.

[ao3komorii]

On the Hunt (Astarion/Reader)

Happy Halloween! I want to write something for Raphael eventually, but here's a shorter Astarion thing for now. Hope you enjoy the story :)

----

You had gotten very good at detecting when the light left his eyes.

It happened a lot less after Cazador had been felled, but often when Astarion had little else to focus on, his red eyes travelled back in time, back to his own world of pain and loss and hopelessness.

It didn’t help that with all that he had gained, he had lost the sun, left to see the light only from afar, his memories of its warmth nowhere near enough.

You had happily joined him in the night as you set out to cure him of his condition, but like anyone, Astarion still had bad days.

You had figured it was going to be a less good day when you had woken up in the middle of the day, your body sensing the absence of his next to yours. Drowsily opening your eyes, you easily spotted your silver-haired partner sitting at the edge of the bed, staring silently at a rectangle of light shining through a small slit between the curtains you had closed when you had first entered the room at the inn, as you always did.

You closed your eyes again, allowing Astarion his moment, knowing that you fussing over him every time would only make things worse. Instead, as you allowed yourself to fall back to sleep, you decided to do something to make tonight as exciting as you could to help give the vampire an escape from his losses.

When you woke next, Astarion was next to you in bed, his meditative pose telling you he was actually asleep. You stared at his peaceful resting face for a long moment before turning your focus to those still-closed curtains, the shade of the barely-visible sliver of light telling you that it was at least midday.

Setting about your pseudo-morning routine, you began to brainstorm a solid plan to distract Astarion from his ongoing plight.

He was likely starving for blood, you knew that much. Without a power-hungry cult looming constantly over your heads, there were much less fights to be had in cities that didn’t result in legal consequences, and you could only safely let him feed from you so often without risking your health. And without Withers around, you couldn’t risk your life quite as stupidly as you had before.

But it had been over a week since Astarion had last had your blood, and you had been considering finding a bandit camp or seeking out some wild animals just to get his mood up when an idea struck you.

It was perhaps a bit sooner than the two-week timeline you had both agreed on between larger blood donations, but you found yourself ensorcelled by the idea of putting on a little hunt for him, just with you as the prey this time. A little test of his instincts as it were, keeping your real reasoning close to your chest, not wanting him to think you were pitying him. And what was a little anemia if it was in the name of cheering up your beloved?

You were sitting at the small wooden desk in the room, itemizing your carefully-hoarded spell scrolls when Astarion came out of his trance, leaning down beside you before you realized he was even awake.

“You’re up early,” he remarked curiously, and you froze up in surprise, doing your best not to look like you had been caught in the act, casually reaching to hide your scroll of disguise self under a more conspicuous hypnotic pattern. “Now what could be so important that you decided to deprive me the pleasure of waking up next to my love?”

You shuffled your scrolls and maps into a messy pile, aware of how his sharp gaze followed the action with suspicion.

Turning from your papers to meet his eyes, you did your best to look innocuous. “I was thinking we could do something different today.”

“Oh?” Astarion’s face lit up with intrigue. “And here I thought I’d be in for yet another day of rifling through dusty old tomes written by dusty old men who haven’t even met a vampire, let alone possessed any useful information about one.”

You let out a huff of laughter, equally aware of the bad information streak you had been on for the last month, the most useful information coming from a thoroughly depraved romantic vampire novel that Astarion had found significantly too much enjoyment in reading out to you whenever he had gotten bored of reading whatever vampiric history tome he had discarded when its contents proved valueless.

“I was thinking–”

It was probably to your benefit that Astarion leaned in to kiss you, cutting off the sentence you hadn’t quite figured out how to phrase. The kiss was chaste, the smug vampire pulling back with a smirk, clearly enjoying having caught you off guard.

“You were saying, love?” he teased lowly, and you willed yourself not to fall for his distractions like you usually did.

“I was thinking we could go on a hunt today,” you said at last, Astarion raising an eyebrow in response.

“You know I always relish the chance for some meaningless violence, but why all of a sudden?” he asked, always way too perceptive for your own good. “What’s the hunt? It had better not be another cluster of ooze. It took me far too long to remove their slobber from my weapons the last time I had the misfortune of stabbing one.”

“No, no ooze,” you dismissed with a laugh. It wasn’t like you had wanted to do that job either, but it had gotten you the funds to pay for your last three inn stays. Summoning up your courage, you tried your best to not look as embarrassed as you felt. “I was thinking this time you could hunt… me.”

Astarion’s eyes glinted noticeably as he leaned in towards you, a hand resting on either armrest of your chair, his arms caging you in. “Am I to take this as a request of a more carnal nature? Because I am very willing to oblige.”

His voice was dripping with quiet ardor, the cheeky vampire using the tone he knew would lure you into bed with him every time, but not this time. You wanted something that would catch him off guard entirely, leaving no room in any part of his mind for his latent sadness to set in today. There would be plenty of time for sex later, once he had been fed.

“I was thinking more along bloodier lines,” you said, Astarion’s resulting frown at his seduction attempt failing more than a little cute. “I know we agreed to every two weeks, but I do have that vibrancy potion I’ve been saving.”

Astarion leaned back out of your space, looking quizzical, but not unhappy, so you took that as a sign to continue.

“Since this is a special occasion, I thought it might be fun to make you work for it,” you said with a conspiratorial smile. “Neither of us have been to this city before, so we’re on an even playing field. I was thinking if you can find me by sunrise, my blood is yours. As much as you want, since the effects of the vibrancy potion will last until then. If you can find me, that is.”

Astarion grinned wide, his pristine white fangs on full display. “Oh darling, I hadn’t taken you as someone who makes gambles they haven’t a hope of winning.”

You felt a flare of competition spark within you at his surety that he would win. Just because this was supposed to end with your blood on his teeth didn’t mean you were going to make this easy for him.

“If you’re so sure you’ll win, then maybe I’ll set off now and get a head start,” you shot back teasingly, reaching into your bag on the floor and downing the small vial of forest green vibrancy potion in one go before standing up, licking the last stray drop from the corner of your mouth to make sure the potion had maximum effectiveness.

Astarion’s eyes closed as he took a long inhale, which told you that the potion was indeed working as intended. When his eyes opened again, his pupils were blown wide, looking every bit the vampire ready for a hunt.

“Your blood smells even sweeter than the first time,” he spoke in a strained voice, posture so rigid he looked like he might snap if you moved an inch closer to him. “If I wasn’t such an honorable vampire, I’d already have you.”

Keeping any comments regarding his honor to yourself, you lifted your bag, sweeping the papers on the desk into it before slinging it over your shoulder, heading all the way to the door before turning your head back to face the shirtless, sleepy-haired vampire with a teasing smile.

“Good luck, Astarion,” you told him. Knowing how desperate for blood he had been the first time, he had to struggling even harder than he looked to be holding himself back right now.

“I don’t need luck,” he replied smoothly, sitting back down on the bed, hands fisting tightly onto the sheets. “There is nowhere you could hide where I can’t find you, my love.”

His sultry tone made you flush, and you quickly fled the room, knowing you had to go now before your willpower gave out.

Emerging onto bustling early evening streets, you knew that you had until the sun fell to find a place to hide. Making your way down the main street, you made sure to stop and chat up a perfume salesman, accepting a heavy dose of one of their floral samples in the hope that it would disguise the smell of your blood to the hungry vampire that would be on your trail within the hour. Your scent taken care of, now there was just the manner of your appearance.

Stopping by a busy clothing store, you stood before a long mirror in a deserted corner of the store, pulling out your disguise self scroll and getting to work.

You left the store a purple-skinned tiefling with long ruby-red hair, clad in a skimpy black dress with a long slit up the thigh, gold jewelry accenting your neck and illusory horns. If Astarion was looking for a disguise, you doubted he would think you would take on such a gaudy one, the stares of people as you passed telling you that you definitely looked the part of a lady of the night.

The sun had begun to fall as you walked the streets, intending on getting a decent distance away from the inn before finding somewhere to hole up when the dark set in. There was no doubt that Astarion would have the advantage in the dark, so you had to be as well-hidden as possible by then.

It felt too much like cheating to set up in a noisy tavern, though it wasn’t exactly like you had set any concrete rules before setting out, but still, you dismissed the fleeting idea. You wanted to make this hard for Astarion, not impossible. You didn’t often have enough gold for vibrancy potions anymore, so you wanted to make this one count, but Astarion would have to earn it first.

You had your momentary doubts that he would even agree to your proposal, given he had his moods sometimes, but his reaction had surpassed even your most hopeful expectations. You knew he wouldn’t be holding back, and you would hate yourself if you didn’t at least put up a fight.

You stopped to feign interest in a group of dragonborn musicians playing in a park as you considered your options further. You could cast a hypnotic pattern and pretend to be captivated by it as well? But you couldn’t sustain that one for long, and there was no telling when Astarion would pass by here. You could blur yourself, but that was likely to end up attracting his attention rather than evading it.

Lost in your thoughts, you took altogether too long to realize the passing of time, coming to the sudden realization that the sun was now just the tiniest sliver in the horizon. Astarion was definitely out by now, who knows for how long while you were zoning out.

You followed the crowd’s lead, clapping for the performers as you took subtle glances around you, not seeing any silver hair in the area. Still, you had wasted too much time here. You needed to move.

With most people in the park distracted by the performance, you were easily able to misty step your way across the park, exiting into what looked to be a district of… lesser repute. Here, there were women and men dressed in less than you were, hanging outside gaudy establishments and trying to draw customers in. You were just passing by a gnome and a scantily-clad human making out so loudly that you briefly wondered if either of them had ever kissed anyone now before when you ran into an issue.

“Haven’t seen yer sweet ass ‘round here before,” a male voice slurred, a large half-orc stepping into your view, or rather completely blocking it with his bulk.

“Excuse me,” you spoke flatly, immediately on guard. You moved to walk around him, but this only seemed to egg him on, as he moved in turn to step to the side and continue blocking your way.

“Ain’t no tieflings at tha bars, not anymore,” he spoke angrily, waving his arms wildly around as he talked, large axe glinting from its place on his back. “It ain’t the same when those other broads ain’t got no horns to grab while I plow ‘em!”

You could easily discern the reason why tiefling women seemed to become scarce around him, regretting that your choice of disguise had now led to this unexpected issue. You wouldn’t want to talk to this creep on a normal day, but you really didn’t have time now. You weren’t sure if your ego would survive being caught by Astarion less than an hour after the hunt had begun.

While you were confident that your disguise was flawless, the half-orc was being so loud that you would catch anyone’s attention right now. Looking around, you noticed the eyes of many of the seedy crowd were on you, but as expected, nobody was stepping in to help you, clearly wary of attracting the wrath of the drunk brute.

Sighing internally, you resolved to yourself to give this guy one more chance to leave you alone before you made him. What a mess you had managed to find yourself in.

“I’m not interested,” you said, not intimidated in the slightest by the half-orc who was at least a head taller than you. “I’m asking you nicely to walk away.”

The half-orc scoffed loudly, making a show of looking around, the onlookers all averting their gazes, not wanting to be involved, their eyes shifting back to you when the brute finished his overdramatic display before turning back to you with a cocked brow.

“Well I don’t see no man here ta claim ya,” he boasted loudly. “And Barorth don’t recognize no other claims on the womens he wants anyway!”

He would probably have been luckier if Astarion was here, the snarky vampire possibly content to mock the half-orc without him realizing rather than what you were going to do to him if he didn’t leave you alone.

“Not interested,” you repeated flatly, deathly intent plain in your voice, at least plain to anyone but this moron, who instead reached out to take one of your arms in his grasp.

“‘Nuff talkin’,” he grunted, hand clamping down on your arm. “Those tits are just–”

The second he touched you, you blinked, immediately activating eyebite, your eyes turning into teeth-ringed pools of black.

“Go,” you snarled at the half-orc, his grip falling from your arm instantly, an all-too-loud guttural groan leaving his mouth before he turned and ran. You didn’t dismiss eyebite until he was out of sight, glaring after him the entire way.

Taking a breath to calm yourself down, you blinked and your regular eyes returned. How much time had you wasted on that moron? He was lucky all you did was traumatize him, the brute likely to have suffered a much worse fate if it was Lae’zel he was hitting on. Hopefully he would leave any real tieflings alone after your little display.

Frustrated, you moved to the less busy side of the street, ignoring the people there who now stared at you in shock. You were far enough from Baldur’s Gate that very few people would recognize you even if you had your real appearance, but there was definitely going to be gossip spreading now about the tiefling escort that sent a half-orc running away with just a look.

And then you were striding past an alleyway, intent on figuring out your next move, when a hand darted out, clasping firmly around your wrist and pulling you into the alleyway, finding yourself quickly pinned to the stone wall by your assailant’s body.

Amused red eyes stared down at you, Astarion running one hand down your side to rest on your hip. “One hour and you’re already finding your way into trouble without me. Darling, I’m hurt.”

You knew he had you, despite your feigned appearance, but your pride wouldn’t allow you to give in so easily.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you sniffed with very false confidence. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to–”

“Spare me,” he dismissed. “Did you really think you could hide from me in plain sight when I know your scent, your taste so… intimately?”

You wanted to protest further, but any words you were going to say turned into a pleased sigh as Astarion leaned in to kiss at your neck.

“You do make a rather fetching tiefling, my love, but I do think I prefer the you that I wake up next to every morning,” he spoke against your neck.

You smiled despite yourself, finally giving in and allowing the disguise to drop, Astarion holding you to him tighter in response, but his fangs still hadn’t made their way into your neck. The smell of your blood had to have been driving him crazy, he had said as much earlier, so then why hadn’t he claimed his reward yet?

“You win,” you conceded, unable to stay mad with your beloved so close to you, even in the dingy alleyway whose prior inhabitants had likely been either a murder or a messy hookup. “My blood is yours.”

At your words, Astarion pulled back from your neck entirely, further confusing you. Noticing your questioning look, he gestured out to the street, where some onlookers were barely visible, but their attention at least seemed to be on their own business now.

“I won’t be playing the part of the heinous vampire attacking the fair maiden and risking some do-gooder rushing to your rescue with a stake meant for my heart,” he explained disdainfully. “No, I think my prize would be better savored in a more private location.”

You could still see just how bad his hunger was getting to him, so it was obvious that you weren’t making it back to the inn. Looking out over his shoulder, you spotted a private enough looking rooftop several stories above some seedy-looking bar, placing your hand on Astarion’s arm as you summoned a dimension door.

“Good enough?” you asked, drawing Astarion’s gaze to the matching door waiting on the roof.

“Not quite the caliber of the Blushing Mermaid, but I can hardly be choosey when it means I get more of your delectable blood,” he answered.

That was as much of a yes as you figured you were getting out of him, and so you activated the door and found yourselves instantly transported to the actually-not-too-bad-looking rooftop.

It was barren, but clean. Seemed like nobody really came up here, as all that was on the roof were a couple ratty-looking chairs and a large rug that looked like it would be worth some money if it weren’t for a large stain on one corner that was either blood or red wine.

Stepping away before Astarion could get too carried away, you rummaged quickly through your bag, pulling out one of the many arcane lock scrolls you knew to keep on hand for situations like this, sealing the door so you wouldn’t be interrupted. Job done, you went to turn back around, not wanting to keep the vampire waiting.

“Well, I think we’re—”

Astarion was way closer than you expected, having silently closed the gap between you while your back was turned.

Shaking off your momentary surprise, you smiled at him, turning your head and pulling your hair back so your neck was left bared for him to drink from. So you were caught off guard when he instead backed you up against the door, caging you in with his body and catching your mouth with his own.

While you were confused, you weren’t opposed, your eyes sliding closed and arms coming up to rest against his chest, the gentle buzzing of the magical lock against your back all but forgotten at the things Astarion’s tongue was doing to your own.

You were having a hard time telling if he was actually this turned on, or if he had just turned his switch on, as much as you had tried to break him of the habit of feeling like he had to perform sexually if he wasn’t feeling it. Recognizing you should probably make that discernment now, you pulled back from the kiss, Astarion’s lips shifting to kiss at your neck.

“It’s okay if this is just for blood,” you spoke, trying to keep your voice steady despite Astarion suckling on a particularly sensitive spot. “You don’t owe me anything for my blood if you don’t want to.”

Astarion pulled back from your neck at last, no bites taken, instead reaching a hand down to take your leg in his grasp, pulling it around one hip and using the opportunity to grind his clearly hard cock into you, the resulting feeling fluttering your lashes as you tried desperately to focus on the seriousness you were trying to inject into the moment.

Astarion saw your serious expression and only smiled, a small little smile so unlike the openly flirtatious ones he used to send your way back when you had first explored each other’s bodies.

“Trust me darling, you mean far too much to me to ever treat you like you’re a favor to be traded in,” he spoke quietly, hips still rolling into yours as he spoke. “You’ve given me too much to ever be repaid. But no need to fret, my reasons for wanting your body now are just my own selfish lust.”

He didn’t need any words from you to know he had you, one broken moan at his hips rutting perfectly against yours enough of a response for him to return to your mouth, one hand sliding under your dress to press firmly on your clit as you kissed fervently, doing your best to keep up with his tongue as you felt warm enough for the both of you even on the chilly rooftop.

The greedy vampire could only go so long without claiming his reward, mouth moving to your neck the second he felt you getting close, sinking his teeth into you at last as he barraged your clit with attention, the twin sensations of blood loss and orgasm feeding off each other in beautiful harmony, Astarion prolonging your peak with his talented fingers as he drank from your neck until you laid boneless against him, panting above his head.

“I love you,” you breathed, Astarion breaking from your neck to return the sentiment with a bloodstained smile.

And then it was your turn, pulling him to your mouth and grinding up into him, the vampire’s own panting breaths loud against your mouth. Astarion moved his hips back into yours, his pace nothing like the practiced, even rhythm he’d had back when he was playing the part of what he had thought you would like. His groans now were entirely his body’s reaction to yours, and the thought burned deeply in your core.

Neither one of you content to keep things going with clothes still on, your hands moved to the clasp holding your flimsy dress together, while Astarion smoothly discarded his own pants, his hands then coming back to maneuver you onto your back on the non-stained section of the rooftop rug, your dress splayed out under you helping to guard against the slightly rough texture of the rug.

“This is a sight I will never tire of,” Astarion groaned, ripping his shirt up over his head, his underwear following and leaving him entirely bare to your wanting gaze.

He looked every bit the vampiric seductor in that horrible novel he liked to bother you with, red eyes and bloody mouth gleaming in the sparse light the rising moon provided.

You watched his expression spark with debauched pleasure as it was plainly obvious how wet you were as he practically peeled your underwear from you, one hand returning to work at your clit, his own cock looking so hard that it must hurt.

“Astarion, please,” you begged, reaching out for him, your lover effortlessly evading your grasp as he worked you closer and closer to orgasm.

“Not yet, my love,” he chided lowly, knowing you could do little to resist his efforts right now. “I rather enjoy getting you so worked up. I could spend hours listening to your pretty cries as I bring you over the edge again and again, but I suppose that potion is only good until sunup, and I am so hungry.”

“Then come here,” you prompted, already feeling clearheaded from the vibrancy potion rejuvenating your blood supply so quickly.

“How could I refuse?” he replied happily, slotting himself between your legs.

Wrapping your legs around his back, you pulled him down, the vampire smoothly lining his cock perfectly to hit deep inside you as you pulled his mouth to your neck.

“You are too perfect,” Astarion murmured against your neck before biting down.

You decided it was better for you to start strong while you still had the blood supply to energize you, using your legs around his hips to start a slow but deep rhythm. Astarion needed very little coaxing to keep up, one hand coming up to angle one of your legs higher, the resulting shift making you cry out as he started to hit against a spot inside you that only he had ever been able to find.

You had always prided yourself on being the talker of your little group, able to talk your way in or out of trouble when needed. But here, under the snarky vampire you had come to cherish more than anything, you were wordless, barely able to manage more than his name as Astarion moved his focus from your neck to thoroughly ruin you, blood-red smirk telling you he knew exactly what he was doing with every grind of his hips.

It took almost embarrassingly no time for you to finish again, Astarion’s keen senses picking up on it immediately without you having to say a word.

“I do so like to see you like this, darling,” he said, slowly his pace down as you came down from it. “So thoroughly ravaged that you couldn’t recite a spell if you tried.”

You knew that he wasn’t unaffected, the slow roll of his hips telling you that much, but you found yourself determined to exhaust him just as badly, a tall order for someone of his stamina, but you were going to try your best.

With as much grace as you could manage with legs that felt like jelly, you withdrew from under him, pushing him back so he was sitting back, staring at you with loving eyes more black than red as you climbed onto his lap, settling back down on his cock, intent on riding him until he lost himself.

Astarion’s hands quickly found the back fastenings of your bra, unhooking it with a satisfied growl and tossing the garment aside, allowing him access to lean down and lave kisses and bites across your chest as you continued to ride him hard.

You were slamming your hips into his now, running a hand through his hair, his increasingly loud groans of your name telling you that he was finally getting close. With a shuddered breath, his hands went down to your hips, holding you still against him as he came, teeth sinking into your neck once again in tandem.

You slowly stroked his hair, in no rush to free yourself from his embrace, even as you could feel stray droplets of blood running down your neck and onto your chest.

With a pleased sigh, Astarion’s hands went from your hips to around your back, pulling back from your neck to see you smiling at him, the sight sending him leaning forward to kiss you, his peaceful expression one you could look at forever and never get tired of.

“Here I was thinking all I had to thank that grotesque nautiloid for was my freedom,” he mused between kisses. “If it hadn’t found you too, I’d probably be dead, hunted by that gur and delivered to my death. Never thought I’d be so grateful to a damn illithid for plucking me off the street.”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “This makes even the whole parasite insertion thing worth it, if I get to be here like this with you.”

“How sweet,” he huffed in response. “I however could have done without Gale’s lectures on morality. And Lae’zel’s snoring.”

“And the Withers lecture about how you were distracting me from my quest,” you added with a laugh, recalling the at-the-time awkward talk with the skeletal man the morning after you and Astarion had first slept together.

“I don’t know about that, my dear,” Astarion replied slyly. “You did seem a touch distracted after that first night. I recall you stepping on several fire mines that Shadowheart had warned us of not five minutes before. Hard to blame you though, I mean really, just look at me.”

“Having fun?” you sulked, pulling back from him to cross your arms across your chest, trying to appear annoyed but fully aware your point was not well made considering he was still inside of you.

Astarion didn’t let you get far, arms pulling you back in. “Not so fast, my love. As I recall, my reward was to last until sunrise, and I intend to reap it in full.”

[jjkamochoso]

...i have come again! With more noritoshi stuff,,,maybe noritoshi is really scary of what his family will think about reader, and they get in a fight about it but they make up in the end! (i need my nori angst) thank you! :3

MMMMMM I LOVE ANGST AND I LOVE NORITOSHI SO THIS IS RIGHT UP MY ALLEY thank you for being patient as I worked on this!! Thank you for the prompt and I really hope you enjoy this story!! You're always helping feed my Noritoshi obsession and I am SO appreciative of that lmao

Family Feud

Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Noritoshi Kamo x gn!reader

Warnings: cussing; this is slightly fem coded because reader receives flowers but imo flowers are gender neutral😌

You were currently sitting on your boyfriend Noritoshi's bed, scrolling through your phone while he pored over yet another stack of papers with important information regarding the Kamo clan. As he was next in line to be the clan head, he was always studying traditional texts, making sure he knew everything there was to know about his family and their history, along with staying updated on the other clans' behaviors and keeping tabs on them. It was a loaded job for a boy of his age, having felt the pressure to be perfect ever since his mom was forced out of the clan all those years ago. His family was a complete enigma to you since you still hadn't met them. Every time you brought up the idea of visiting his estate to say hello to them, he shut you down immediately. You loved Noritoshi, and you were sure he loved you too, but you could't help but get the feeling he wanted to keep you hidden from them for some reason. Little did you know, that topic was about to be brought up again and lead to a messy outcome.

Noritoshi's phone dinged but he paid it no mind as he continued with his task at hand. After the second chime, you picked up his phone and brought it to him.

"Thank you," he mumbled absentmindedly, setting the phone down without a second glance.

"Aren't you going to read it?" you prompted, curious to know what the text was about. You saw the preview of the message on his screen as you brought it to him and it piqued your interest since it was from his father. To be honest, he didn't sound like the type of man to even know cell phones existed so to say you were eager to hear what he had to tell Noritoshi through that medium was an understatement.

"In a second," he replied, his nose buried in the papers in front of him.

"It's from your dad."

"HUH?"

You'd never seen Noritoshi whip his head around as fast as he unlocked his phone with lightning speed, a slightly concerned look on his face as his eyes scanned over the digital words in front of him.

"He wants me to call him. If you'll excuse me, I'm going in the other room so I don't bother you."

"You'd never bother me, my love," you told him, sending a soft smile his way. For the first time that day, Noritoshi visibly relaxed, releasing a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding for hours. You were the only thing in his life that never caused him undue amounts of stress. You were the person who helped ground him in moments like these where everything felt impossible. Just seeing a glimpse of the back of your head was enough to keep Noritoshi happy for hours, but being lucky enough to be treated by the appearance of a smile on your face was plenty motivation for him to work even harder to be the best member of the Kamo clan, the most acclaimed heir, and give you the most luxurious life you deserved.

A luxurious life, preferably miles and miles away from his dreadful family.

He tried to love them, he did, but they were, quite frankly, insufferable. Nothing he ever did was good enough and all of his actions were continuously scrutinized. It was exhausting being around them during meetings and some days he wanted to bash his head against the table as they droned on and on about the most inconsequential topics, paying no mind to issues that actually matter. The clan had no respect for his mother, the only family member he truly cared for, and so, he had no respect for them. They would never know that, of course, because he needed to be on his best behavior lest his position as clan head get passed on to someone else and all his hard work would be for nought. He was also extremely aware of the prejudice his family had against anyone who wasn't from an esteemed sorcerer family, meaning you would barely place the tip of your shoe on his family's estate and they would have you escorted from the premises immediately. He loved you too much for you to be a victim of their cruel words and harsh behavior so he avoided bringing you around to meet them, for your sake and his own.

"I'll only be a minute," he said earnestly, stepping out of his bedroom and into the hallway, closing the door behind him. He mentally prepared himself for whatever venomous words he was about to be subjected to as the phone line rang in his ear.

"Hello, father. What may I do for you?"

You didn't want to be rude and eavesdrop, but you desperately wanted to know how the conversation was going between Noritoshi and his dad. You knew the head Kamo could be abrasive so you hoped your boyfriend would leave the phone call halfway unscathed. Even without putting your ear to the door, you heard Noritoshi's gentle voice become firmer.

"Yes, father... No, father... Alright. I'll see you then. Goodbye."

Noritoshi came back in, a frustrated sigh leaving him as his hand ruffled the hair on the back of his head.

"I hate to do this to you, y/n, but I have to reschedule our date tonight. My father said everyone is needed at the estate for a family conference and dinner. I'm so sorry."

"It's fine, it's not your fault," you said, putting your phone down. "If everyone is gonna be there, wouldn't it be the best time for me to go and finally meet your family?"

"That's really not a good idea," he said, sitting in his desk chair again. "I don't think now's the right time. There'll be too much going on and I don't want you to get overwhelmed."

"But it's never the right time according to you," you said, exasperated from him continually stringing you along. "I'm starting to feel like you don't want me to meet them at all."

He gulped. That was very true, but not for the reason you probably thought. It wasn't you who shouldn't meet them, it was them who didn't deserve to meet you.

"That's not... totally true," he told you, his focus going back to the papers in front of him as an excuse to end this conversation before it went south. "I have to finish studying this before I go. You're welcome to stay here in the meantime but I'm not sure if I'll be back tonight."

"Hold on. I'm not dropping this so easily."

"I really wish you would."

Your eyes narrowed. "Can you just tell me why I can't meet them? You've never given me one real reason. Just one, and I'll be quiet about it."

"They're just busy, that's all."

"That's bullshit and you know it."

He still wouldn't meet your eyes, pretending to be engrossed in his work, which was really starting to piss you off.

"What, now I'm too boring to even pay attention to?"

That got him to finally look up.

"Listen, y/n, you know my family is... complicated. I would like to keep you away from that mess for as long as possible."

"I'm quite old enough to hold my own against a "complicated" family," you seethed, trying to keep your cool, but almost failing. "I don't need you to protect me like I'm a child or something! Do they even know I exist?"

It was much too quiet for much too long.

"Damn it, Noritoshi, answer me! Do they know you're dating someone?"

"I... they know you exist. I talk about you all the time, I do," he said, his heart beating quickly in his chest, "but... no. I haven't told them we're dating."

At that moment, you felt your heart snap in two. Noritoshi was so ashamed at his admission that he refused to see your face, afraid to witness how bad he just hurt you.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" you breathed out, voice cracking. "I've shared everything with you all this time and you do this to me? My family knows everything about you and can't wait to meet you but your family doesn't even know we're together? You told me you loved me but you can't tell your family anything because they're, what, too dysfunctional? I can't believe this is happening right now. I really can't."

You stood from the bed, snatching your phone and grabbing your jacket that was strewn next to you. Shoving your feet in your shoes, you gave Noritoshi a tearful glance.

"I hope you're happy with the way this turned out. Don't you dare try to talk to me after this."

"Y/n, wait!" he yelled out, but you had already slammed the door behind you. He was at a total loss of what to do. He knew he made an extremely grave error, but the whole time he convinced himself it was the best decision for both of you. Very obviously, that couldn't be further from the truth, and he was scared that he had just lost the love of his life due to his stupidity and cowardice. He so desperately wanted to run after you and explain the whole situation, come clean about his intentions, but if he wanted to make it to the Kamo estate on time, he had to leave in a few minutes. Making his choice, he exited his room.

When you got to your room, tears were falling freely down your cheeks. You were truly at a loss with Noritoshi. How could he hide you from his family like that? To think you loved each other, yet he kept you a secret? Was he ashamed of you? Were you too poor? Too unattractive? What was it about you that he felt the need to disguise the fact that you two were dating? You went to unlock your phone, but seeing your lock screen with his face smiling at you, so carefree, made you want to sob even harder. You threw the phone away from you, the piece of technology landing on your comforter with a soft thud. You laid crying on your bed for who knows how long, feeling exhausted as the tears finally subsided. You needed to occupy your mind with something else so you grabbed the remote to turn on your tv. Before you could find an interesting show, there was a knock at your door. You checked the time on your phone: 5:30 pm. It couldn't possibly be Noritoshi, he was at his family's place right now. Confused, you got up and peeked through the window next to the door to make sure it was someone you knew.

What the hell was Noritoshi doing here?

"Go away, Kamo," you yelled through the door.

"I really need to talk to you, y/n. I messed up and I want to explain myself."

You rolled your eyes. "You should've thought of that before you ripped out my heart and stomped on it."

"I know. Please, just give me one minute to talk and if you're still upset, I promise I'll leave you alone."

You wanted to ignore him and send him home, but you could tell by the look on his face that he was just as torn up about the fight as you were. It wouldn’t hurt to hear him out—you could easily slam the door in his face again if need be. You opened the door tentatively to find yourself on the receiving end of a beautiful bouquet of flowers but you tried to act unimpressed so he didn’t think that was enough for forgiveness.

"Flowers? How emotionally unavailable do you have to be to think that showing up at my door with plants is an acceptable apology?"

Noritoshi tried his best to not look deflated at your annoyed tone. “That’s not the whole apology, just a tiny portion, I promise.”

“You promised a lot to me while we were dating,” you scoffed.

“I was wrong to not tell my family about you—about us.”

“I know.”

He continued. “I made a huge mistake not telling you the truth from the start.”

“I know.”

“I was a huge asshole, y/n.”

“Please, tell me something I don’t know.”

“I didn’t want you to meet my family because I was afraid they would scare you off and I would lose you for good.”

Oh? That was something you didn’t know. He took your lack of response as an indication to keep talking.

"As you're aware, my clan is one of the major sorcerer families in jujutsu society and because of that, they're very judgmental and total elitists. Since you're not from an influential family, I didn't know how they would react to me dating you. It's not right but I figured they wouldn't accept us being together. I didn't want you swept up in clan politics and become subjected to insults if I brought you to meet them."

As you thought about what he told you, the pieces all fell into place. There were signs here and there that Noritoshi didn't agree with his family's ideas most of the time, but had to hold his tongue as not to upset them and potentially lose out on being the next in charge.

"That... actually makes a lot of sense," you eventually replied, "but why didn't you just tell me that in the first place? I would've been much more understanding had I known how you were feeling."

"Because I was a coward and thought running from my fears would be easier than facing the fact that my family is so messed up," he confessed. "I hope you know that my intentions were good. I wanted to protect you so badly but I was the one that ended up hurting you. I am truly very sorry I lied to you and made you feel like you were the problem when it was my fault the whole time."

You leaned against your door, letting his words sink in. You had to admit, he did seem truly remorseful. He wouldn't have shown up on your doorstep, flowers and all, to tell you the truth if he didn't want to, especially since he was skipping a very important clan meeting to do so!

"I still would prefer if you didn't meet my family since they can be overcritical and cruel, and you deserve much more than that," he said, "but if you want to, I'd be honored to take you to dinner tonight and present to them my kind hearted, strong willed partner... if you'll still have me as a partner, that is."

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. "So you had a change of heart, then?"

"No change of heart, just change of mind."

You tried to contain your smile at his cheesy line but failed. "Fine. If you're sure, I'd love to come to dinner with you tonight. As your partner, of course. I never want to live in a world where I'm not by your side."

Noritoshi let out a huge sigh of relief, letting a smile fall easily on his lips as well. "You'll accept these flowers, then?"

"Of course I will." You took the flowers into your possession, smelling their sweet fragrance. "I love them, Noritoshi, and I love you."

"I love you too, y/n, that's why I'm here fighting for you instead of fighting boredom at the meeting."

You smirked. "I take it you don't like attending those?"

"I hate them. I really, really, hate them. But at least I know the dinner will be much more tolerable with you next to me."

You leaned over and brought Noritoshi into a kiss, savoring the feeling of his lips on yours. You weren't sure what you were going to be walking into later that evening, but you knew you could conquer anything with Noritoshi.

[cripplecharacters]

I would like to know what you think of magical aids for disablilities in a fantasy setting! Things like: A prosthetic that is enchanted to be capable of fine movements. A wheelchair that can levitate. Hearing aids that are powered by a user's innate magic. Blind people with animal familiars that have a magical connection that allows the person to see through the animals eyes. Thank you!

Hi,

I think that magical aids, in general, can be interesting! But the few options you listed point to some issues.

First of all, the blind person magically seeing - don't do this. There's no point in having a disabled character just to make them abled. Consider this post by blindbeta instead, where they go over fantasy/fictional guide animals. Your blind character shouldn't be able to see, that's just disability erasure.

The same point applies to the prosthetic - is magic just the in-universe excuse to give someone a Cool Robot Arm/Leg that is technically a prosthetic but has little in common with the real world equivalent? I recommend going through our #prosthetics tag, but the two important posts you might want to consider: this on upper limb prosthetics, and this on lower limb ones for what people with amputations actually want - and yes, there are major differences between those two kinds of prostheses outside of being different limbs.

As a cane user, I would enjoy a magical cane that can fit into my pocket when I need it to, or one that I could summon out of thin air when my leg or back decide to make me barely able to walk when I'm out. But to be honest, I'm rather boring and to me, it's important that these fantasy/sci-fi equivalents don't turn a cane unusable in other ways. Prime example, canes with those awful "doorknob" handles... that takes me out of the story more than a teleporting cane. Or those canes with swords hidden in them (opinions heavily differ here, me personally I'm not a fan), like structural stability of the thing aside, if I'm using the cane then I'm definitely not in a condition where I could swing a sword, lol…

A cane that doesn't need changing the damn tip so often, or self-cleans every time I step into something gross would be great too. Or maybe one that is harmless to the user but bites people who touch it without asking!

mod Sasza

I don’t love the idea of a wheelchair that can levitate. Why should disabled people have to change our aids rather than the world becoming more accessible. Don’t get me wrong! There are still fun things you can do with wheelchairs in fantasy. For example a wheelchair with a spell that makes terrain (grass rocks etc.) a typical wheelchair would have trouble navigating flat. A power-chair that doesn’t use a battery but some other form of magic etc. I would challenge you to get creative and think outside of just levitation!

Mod Patch

I love the thought of magic aids. I agree with Sasza of the aspect of aids automatically cleaning themselves or having parts that you don't have to replace constantly. I know for me wiping down my wheelchair was always a hassle and the rubber handles on my breaks wore down constantly (my dog ate them one time) and were very hard to use with wrist that easily subluxed.

Aids that are battery powered running on magic or some other fantasy power source as a sorta battery would be so cool. A Port that magically accesses/de-accesses itself at the person's will? Oxygen Cannulas that never need changing/change themselves? A VP Shunt automatically adjusting its pressures to what the person needs? So many endless things you can do with them!

Mod Virus

I’m not entirely sure what is meant by hearing aids powered by innate magic. If that means never having to deal with replacing the batteries, sign me up! If it means anything other than that, I want more information on what exactly it entails.

Magic aids that function the same as not having a disability at all are erasure, plain and simple.

Mod Rock