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asirensrage · 5 months

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Not His Fault - Gojo Satoru Oneshot

Title: Not His Fault

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Unnamed/Undescribed Female OC

Word Count: ~2100

Warnings: Sex. Possessive!Obsessed!Gojo. Edging. Overstimulation. Unprotected sex. Mention of OC taking drugs for seeing curses.

Summary: The only thing he can do is convince her that she needs him. So he does.

Notes: Unbeta-d. Written within two days and barely edited if I'm honest. This started with me talking about obsessed!Gojo to @renhoeku and I started writing out the idea I was playing with. Then I started writing smut because of that post about having ppl read it and keeping a straight face around family during Thanksgiving. In the end, I tried to connect them. I hope it worked. Please tell me if you enjoy it. Thanks!

It’s not his fault.

Satoru will freely admit when he’s done something he wasn’t supposed to, when he steps out of line. Why wouldn’t he? He has nothing to fear. There’s nothing anyone could do to him. But this? This isn’t his fault. It’s hers.

She doesn’t react like the rest. She never has since the day he stumbled upon her. Even when she finally learned the truth of the things that she saw, that she was able to destroy them with a flick of her fingers and the right determined thought, she still never changed. They told her he was the strongest and yet she looked at him like he was just another person she saw on the street. She answered with a shrug, referenced an anime when she saw him floating and continued on as if it was no different than usual. He doesn’t know if it’s the drugs she used to take when her family thought she was crazy but nothing seems to phase her.

It’s refreshing.

It’s addicting and he can’t help but want to surround her, to see if he can get her to react in a different way.

So it’s not his fault. If she reacted like everyone else, he wouldn’t be here. He wouldn’t be trying to manipulate her into staying with him, at least close to him, so that he could protect her.

Because he needs to protect her. He needs to keep her from falling headfirst into the fate that awaits every sorcerer but him. He needs her…to want him.

---

It didn’t start like that.

He was intrigued when he came across her. He didn’t recognize her and she did her best to ignore him, to avoid talking to him or even looking at him. At first, he suspected she knew who he was and was warned by a clan, but it wasn’t that. She had slipped through the cracks, unaware that the curses she could see and destroy actually existed in reality. She had been convinced that she was hallucinating them all…until he persuaded her that they were real. That he was real.

He expected things to change, but they didn’t. She reacted to him the same way she always did and he just…he wanted to keep that. So he didn’t tell anyone. She was safer that way, he thought. Safer on her own, with no one the wiser that she existed.

Until she wasn’t.

---

Nearly dying does wonders to draw her closer. He saved her and she was easily swayed to follow with the understanding that it was safer under his protection. Well, the school’s security. Until that proved to not be enough in his eyes.

It was simple to bring her into the fold, but as she charmed his students the same way she enthralled him, something became clear to him. He didn’t want to share her and he refused to lose her the way he lost…others. The only thing he could do was convince her that she needs him.

So he does.

---

He digs his fingers into the flesh of her hips, appreciating the way he can see how he’s imprinting himself onto her. He wants everyone to know, to see her and know that she’s his. That she’ll always be his…and he wants to know that his mark is there, even when no one else but him can see it.

Satoru pulls her towards him, lifting her slightly so that she slides faster. He’s been teased long enough, has waited long enough that he buries his face between her legs, eager to taste her. He groans at the sweetness, that slight tang that somehow makes it more irresistible. He feels the way she digs her hand into his hair, how her hips rise to meet his mouth. He’ll devour her like this. He could die between her legs and it will have been worth it. He’s tasted heaven and it only tastes of her.

She tries to pull away as he does his best to break her, to make her cum across his tongue. Her legs squeeze against his ear before she tries to move from the pleasure he knows he’s bringing her. She says it’s too much. It’s not enough.

He hooks his hands around her legs, keeping her still and open. He wants everything from her, even if he has to take it before she realizes she’s willing to offer it to him. Only to him.

He grinds his hips against the mattress, already so fucking hard just from her taste. His spine tingles as he groans against her. He's trying to hold on, but the taste of her on his tongue and the lewd sounds she's making as he attempts to feast on her are pushing his limits. She probably doesn't even realize how much she's affecting him. She never does. It just makes him want her more.

Her orgasm hits her hard and she shudders against him, keening when he doesn’t stop. How can he? She’s given him this much, she can give another. He wants her begging. He wants to ruin her, to burn the knowledge into her that he’s the only one who can take care of her like this. He’s the only one worthy to.

When he finally pulls away, moving to rest between her thighs as he licks his lips and wipes his mouth, he looks at her. Being above her gives him the best view, especially of the tears in her eyes that have built up from the overstimulation.

He grins at her before leaning down and swiping at one that falls with his tongue. She reaches up, pressing a hand against his chest. He pulls back enough to meet her eyes again.

She’s trembling, still trying to catch her breath from his attempts to steal it. She looks almost hesitant to meet his eyes but he kisses her softly. Again and again. Until he pulls back and brushes away another one of her tears with his thumb.

“Shhh,” he murmurs. “I got you, sweet thing.” He kisses her again, relishing the way she kisses back. “Told you I’d take care of you, didn’t I?” He doesn’t wait for her response. “Let me feel you.”

“Please, ‘toru.”

He groans at the sound of his name on her lips. “Anything,” he murmurs back. He means it too. He’ll give her whatever she asks for if it means she’ll stay by his side. It doesn’t take much to slip into her. She’s wet and warm, moaning and digging her nails into his skin as if she’s trying to mark him the way that he’s marked her. He’d let her leave scars if she could.

Satoru buries his face in her neck, breathing her in as he tries to maintain control. Despite how long he spent getting her ready, she’s still so fucking tight.

She brings one of her legs around his waist, as though she’s trying to get him closer. He swears to himself before he finds a position. She's so good to him. Even when she was so unsure in the beginning. He'll be just as good back. He swears it.

He holds himself above her, eyes on her face so he can see every expression she makes. He tries to burn the memory of the way her eyes close and her mouth falls open into his mind. He wants to be able to remember every sound she makes as he thrusts into her.

He leaves open-mouthed kisses on any bit of her skin that he can reach and hooks one of her legs over his arm, pressing it higher so he can get in deeper.

“Come on,” he tells her. “Tell me what you want.”

“Please–” She begs him for more.

He kisses her hard, pleased at the way she pleads. He tells her how good she is for him. “Made just for me, aren’t you?”

She cries out in response as he shifts the angle slightly. He wants to make her scream. He murmurs promises until they fade because all he can focus on is how good she feels around him and how much more he wants.

But then she says, voice broken as she clings to him, “‘toru, don’t...don't stop.”

Well, how could he resist?

“Tell me you’re mine.” He demands but it almost sounds like he’s begging her this time. He just wants to hear it. He wants to brand himself into her the same way he feels she’s burned into him. “Tell me.” He quickens his pace, fingers digging bruises into her skin as he holds her in position, bringing her back to him over and over.

It doesn’t take long for her to reach her peak and he nearly gives in when he feels the way she clenches around him as she cums. “Fuck...” he groans, trying to breathe so he doesn’t break like this. It’s too soon. He wants this to last, wants to show how much he can make this worth her while.

She’s coming down from her high and he’s trying to hold on to his when he hears her. “Promise?”

He pauses, catching his breath before looking down at her. “Promise what?” He grins as he asks, trying not to show how desperate he feels to know what she wants.

She looks away and he can’t help but think how fucking cute she looks like this. Sweaty and dishevelled, her eyes glossy with pleasure. He might have to kill anyone who’s ever seen her like this. He knows no one else will. Not anymore. He kisses her softly, before placing quick kisses against her cheek. “Come on, princess,” he teases. His breath nearly stops in his chest at the way she looks up at him.

“Promise you’ll take care of me?”

He kisses her hard. “I swear. Any way you want.”

“You better pull out.”

He laughs at that because she looks as unimpressed as usual when she says it. He won’t tell her that he wasn’t planning to, that he wants to keep her close however he can. He needs her stronger first before that, even if he knows he could protect them both. “I will.”

He kisses her, enjoying the way she returns it before he starts to move again. It’s easy to fall into a rhythm that has her clutching his shoulders, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck. The room fills with the sounds of their movement, with his grunts as he builds up the tension again, her moans as he moves her leg closer to her chest so he can get deeper.

He feels the way she shudders against him, crying out as he tries to bring her to another orgasm. Tears are building up in her eyes again.

“I can’t!”

“One more, baby. One more.”

She pushes at his chest with one of her hands. A feeble attempt to get him to slow down, but he knows she can take it. He grabs her hand and pins it above her head, pressing closer. Sparks shoot down his spine and he takes the moment to grind his hips into hers. He couldn’t be closer if he tried but it almost feels like it’s not enough.

She rakes her nails down his back, mouth falling open as she keens at the feeling. He breaks.

He’s almost not fast enough to pull out, but he swore he would. With a rush of heat, he cums across her stomach and while she looks beautiful marked like that, there’s a part of him that knows it would have felt better inside. It’s fine. It’s not like this is going to be the only time. They’ve already promised each other, whether or not she realizes it.

Her eyes are clenched tight and despite the fact he’s spent, he knows she’s still clutching at nothing and so fucking close. He kisses her, lowering her leg carefully before using the hand of the arm that was holding her leg to press against her clit. He wants to see her expression when she cums. Wants to hear her again.

She looks surprised when she feels his fingers but it quickly fades as he builds her back up. She clutches at his hand and he moves to take one of her breasts into his mouth. She’s beautiful and soft and fucking perfect. Especially when she arches up into him as she reaches her peak.

He takes his hand away, licks it clean of her, and moves until he’s lying next to her. He could stare at her all day but he pulls her into his chest. She’s still coming down from her release and they’re both covered in sweat and cum, but he wants her close. He wants to feel her pressed against him, where she belongs.

She curls up into him, head resting on his chest. He can feel her breath against his skin. If he wasn’t so hot, he’d shiver at the sensation. He feels scrubbed raw, bare in the best way with her.

Her breathing evens out as she falls asleep on him. He grins to himself. He wore her down, just like he promised he would. He brushes his fingers against her cheek. He hasn’t allowed himself to get this close with anyone since…but now? Now that he’s let her in, that he’s claimed her, he can’t regret it. He won’t let her either. The two of them belong to each other. If he has to remind her of that when she wakes up, he will. She’ll learn.

---

taglist: @raith-way @zeleniafic @veetlegeuse @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse @themaradwrites @kingsmakers @far-shores @endless-oc-creations @stanshollaand @wordspin-shares

also tagging a couple who may be interested: @nejires-hado @saidbysae @sxrvivc and @emerald-valkyrie

#gojo satoru x oc #gojo x oc #jjk fic #gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #my writing #dark!gojo #yandere!gojo

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xxstraymoonchildxx · 3 months

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This Couple is Unusual

Prev. / Next

Chapter 3 This couple, competing

cw: one suggestive implication

The young earl suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, impatiently waiting for the undertaker to stop his hysterical laughter. Undertaker's chest heaved, choking on his gasps of air. He had to support himself on one of his many coffins, wiping off drool from his chin. Amused, you observed the earl whose visible eye twitched slightly and only now do you notice the eyepatch peeking out from under his sidebangs. He hadn’t noticed you yet or was ignoring you on purpose.

The raven-haired butler stood right behind him but his calculating eyes were fixed on Satan. Three more people were with them - a man of Chinese heritage, a lady dressed in red from head to toe, and next to her another butler, timidly looking around and plain as the day compared to the rest.

“Ah, Earl. I was wondering when you’ll step through my doors again. And you couldn’t have arrived at a better time~” Undertaker had finally composed himself, stepping closer to the boy. “Is today the day you have come to see how it feels to sleep in my custom-made coffins?”

A scoff left the kid's lips “I didn’t come here to play arou-” A finger touching his mouth silenced him. “I know exactly why you are here, no need to tell me. Although you are not the only one looking for answers today~” Undertaker grinned, a subtle nod ordering all attention on the two of you.

The air tensed as Ciel Phantomhive narrowed his eye(s), glancing towards his butler, you, and the blond next to you, who had his gloved hand protectively on the small of your back. You raised your hand, waving.

“Who are you?”

“Ah, we’ve met briefly,” Sebastian threw into the room, leaning forward to whisper into his ear. You did the same with Satan, asking him if you should take your leave. He nodded and displayed a practiced smile “We remember, feel free to take no account of us, we were on our way out anyway.” He turned to Undertaker “Again, it was our pleasure. Until next time, should we not solve the case first.”

A bolt of lightning could be imagined between the two of you and them, an unspoken challenge.

You were watched when you walked out, Satan holding the door open for you and you couldn’t help the cheeky upturn of your lips when you passed the boy who looked like Belphegor, the ‘Queen’s watchdog’ Cavendish most likely had warned you about.

The funeral director hummed “The international press is surely committed these days~”

Ciel scoffed. As if some no-name reporters could solve his case.

True to your estimation, Satan was hooked. You spent the next couple of days researching suspects - experts from the medical field, from bourgeoisie to proletariat.

The thesis of the culprit being involved with black magic was also in the room (which was scarily popular during this time) plus there was the possibility of Jack the Ripper being more than one person - a statement by yours truly, so you had the honor of persuading this path on your own so he could make more background checks. With the help of the Sorcerer’s Society and the documentation of the Yard, you were able to narrow down the circle of suspects, even if Satan was way quicker thanks to him being a demon. Were you dragging him down? The avatar of wrath had answered your suspicion with a kiss on your temple and a reassuring smile.

After an exhausting day, you have thrown your jacket on the ground and let yourself fall onto the covers of your bed. Feet aching, your magical energy drained from teleporting and your belly full from the three-course dinner Satan invited you to. Tomorrow, you told yourself, will be a shopping spree day. After all, a promise was a promise, and you were still missing some souvenirs.

Satan joined you shortly after, his fingers grazing your back, playing with the hooks of your bodice holding it together.

“Tired, huh?”

You hummed in agreement, more so when he started to work on the knots of your trapezius. He chuckled at your soft sighs, slowly pulling off the fabric to touch the top of your spine with his lips. “Mhm, not that I don’t like this but I should shower first, don’t you think?” Satan gently turned you around, hovering over you, his blond strands framing his face nicely and green eyes longingly boring into yours.

“Right after, my dear wife.”

A fit of giggles fell from your lips in response to his kisses, suddenly not minding your exhaustion at all.

“We have a promising clue,” Sebastian stated, elegantly serving a new pot of tea to the guests sitting under the chandelier in the drawing room of the Phantomhive manor. “A doctor, knowledgeable in human anatomy, connected to a secret society or black magic: matching with the criteria for the Whitechapel case would be the Viscount Druitt - Lord Aleister Chamber Although he is a medical school graduate, he hasn’t worked in a hospital or been involved in this profession. He has hosted several seasonal parties in the near past, but rumors say various parties were only attendable by those close to him.”

Angeliana Durless alias Madam Red, Ciel’s maternal aunt, leaned back into the comfy parlor chair, finger on her chin “Viscount Druitt…come to think of it, I do recall he has been into black magic lately.”

“He is also suspected of running some sort of secret ceremony during his parties. There is a possibility of him having prostitutes sent in as altar sacrifices for dark rituals and, or selling their organs and body parts to his guests.”

Lau, the second guest argumented, sipping from the delicate cup in his hands.

“Appropriately, he is hosting a party at the 19th hour of this day as the seasonal period will end with it. The ideal time for an investigation, don’t you agree, young master?”

Sebastian smiled eerily, already knowing the answer. Ciel gripped his fork.

“Madam Red, you sure can arrange something, can you?”

She answered with a laugh “What do you take me for, my dear nephew? Aren’t I quite popular? A word here, a word there - I have an invitation in no time~”

/This might be our only chance!/

A few hours later, the carriage arrived at Viscount Druitt’s lavish manor. People in their prettiest gowns and best suits were guided inside.

Ciel Phantomhive crossed his glove-covered arms, waist arching from that torturously tight-laced corset he was forced to wear. For their undercover-mission, he had to pose as his aunt's niece from the countryside and Sebastian being ‘her’ home tutor. Lau, who was uncharacteristically dressed in a smoking suit, was Madam Red's lover for the night. Only Grell was left out from acquiring a new role.

“It seems tonight will be rather enjoyable.” Lau hummed, eyes closed.

/Maybe for you, you don't have to dress up like a girl!/

“Don't make such a face. You look so cute!” his aunt teased, bringing Ciel in a bone-crushing hug “I always wanted to have a daughter to dress up so prettily!”

The Earl blushed, annoyance over his face. /This is humiliating/

He had to wear a blush pink dress with white ruffles and black accents, decorated with bows on the dress itself and over his chest. The equally pink headpiece with a white bow had also pink roses attached and sat nicely on his long twintail wig, hiding his eyepatch perfectly from view. If he had to describe it, it was pompous and utterly girly. Something he'd associate with his fiancé.

“Don't tell me you don’t like it? A lot of cloth had to be used for this to happen, you know. In France, nonetheless. It's all in vogue!”

“Let go of me now, why would I like it?!” Ciel snapped.

“Oh my, shouting so loud isn't becoming of a Lady,” Sebastian immediately reprimanded him with a smile, a gloved hand pushing up his glasses. He too was dressed up handsomely, black suit over a pristine white shirt and an ascot wrapped around the high collar. “Did you not say, you would ‘use any means necessary’?”

Ciels skin took an unhealthy red color but he did remember. Viscount Druitt was a man with catholic taste after all, so him posing as a girl was the perfect coverage, wherever he liked it or not. This was for the case.

“Shall we go then, my Lady?”

As expected, security was tight but they went in without facing any problems. To say the ballroom was packed was an understatement. It would take a while for them to find Lord Chamber.

Ciel started to complain about his get-up, stating he wouldn't want to see his fiancé dressed like this.

“Wow, your headpiece is exquisite!”

“Oh, why thank you!”

The Earl groaned “I'm starting to hear things like she is-”

“Oh, there are so many pretty dresses, but yours looks the best so far! Like a princess from a fairytale!”

“Aren't you energetic? You look very cute yourself. Just make sure to not bump into someone while running around.”

“Will do!”

“...here.”

Sebastian and Ciel turned around at the same time with horror.

He had to jinx it, hadn't he?

Geeze, I wonder who Lizzy was talking to 🤔

I planned to put more plot inside but decided to cut the chapter I had planned (this already has 1,5K words, and I don't want to rush through it

Until next time!

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scrollsaplenty · 8 months

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Perhaps a Midnight Snack

Hello Hello!

Here's a little scene of our favorite vampire snacking on my OC. There will be plenty more of these two to come. Enjoy!

Maybe it was the rough ground that prevented Mara from falling into a deep slumber, or perhaps it was a stroke of luck that forced the sorcerer awake that fateful night. Whether it be fate, divine intervention, or pure luck something forced Mara’s eyes open before fangs sunk into her neck.

“Shit.”

Hovering above framed in a halo of glittering starnight was the Pale Elf himself. Astarion arched over the slumbering young woman with his mouth hinged open, fangs bore, and a desperate look in his scarlett eyes. Dark bags framed his eyes and his normally elegant features were gaunt as if days passed since his last nourishing meal. His white curls were disheveled and a thin sheen of sweat coated his face. His elegant appearance disappeared and all that was left was a desperate man.

It took every ounce of will power for Mara to not scream and thrash at the elf. Instead, she rolled out from under Astarion, scrambled unceremoniously to her feet, and stumbled backwards a few steps until her feet were at the water's edge. Mara craned her neck around Astarion’s hunched over body towards the rest of camp and let out a sigh of relief when she realized everyone was still fast asleep. The campfire went cold hours ago and Gale - who was supposed to take first watch - was slumped over asleep beside Scratch.

Mara snapped her attention back to Astarion who rose to his feet and ran a nervous hand through his hair. In the dim moonlight, Mara saw Astarion for who he truly was - a vampire.

The bard’s told stories of vampires; undead killers who stalked the shadows hunting their prey. Masters of manipulation, seduction, and deception who could charm a Hag just as easily as a young noble. Creatures who craved power just as deeply as they craved blood. Wyll told stories around the campfire of the vampire’s he slayed over the years without realizing a vampire sat across from him.

How did no one realize?

“I promise this isn’t what it looks like,” Astarion spoke in hushed whispers. He took a few steps towards Mara with his hands held out in a peaceful gesture, “I was just going to take a little bit. Just enough to make me stronger, just so I could go hunt for a more filling meal.”

And there it was - the veil over Astarion dropped and for a brief moment Mara was able to see a shred of truth in him. Astarion was ravenous, desperate, and most of all scared. All it took was for Mara to scream, to tell the camp what he attempted, and surely the others would turn against him.

Mara relaxed her body and walked over to where Astarion stood. Mara tilted her head up and nervously licked her lips, “Did it not occur to you to simply ask if you could feed on me? Why didn’t you tell me before this?”

Shock and awe flashed over Astarion’s handsome features as his mouth dropped open. He quickly collected himself and pointed an accusatory finger at the young half elf, “Ask?! No, it did not occur to me to ask you, because at best I thought you may sick fire fingers on me, and at worst you would drive a stake through my chest. This isn’t the sort of thing you ask of your traveling companions, you silly girl!”

Astarion dropped his hands to his side, “I thought you would call me a monster and order me away from camp. I needed you to trust me,” he gave Mara a pleading look that shook her core, “I want you to trust me. You can trust me, Mara.”

Mara placed her hands on her hips and took a deep breath. She wasn’t exactly honest with everyone. Their group was brought together by circumstance and that wasn’t enough to persuade Mara to expose all of her secrets, no matter how fond of this group she was. Trust was fickle, and Mara knew she would be a hypocrite if she chastised Astarion for also hiding parts of himself.

“Would it be easier if I lay down or is standing more comfortable for you?” Mara asked.

“What - oh - lay down please. I want you to be comfortable, of course,” Astarion stammered out the first half of his sentence before collecting himself and offering Mara a sly smile.

Behind the sly smile were grateful eyes begging for more. Mara was unsure what more Astarion wanted, perhaps it was power, gold, carnage, or maybe even blood. The ravenous hunger inside Astarion would not be satiated with this one night. Allowing this moment to happen would forever change their dynamic. Their friendship would transcend snarky comments and bantering to an uncharted area.

“Let me fix my hair,” Mara dropped onto her bedroll and sat with her legs crossed. Her long thin fingers carefully plaited her hair into one long braid as she stared out over the glittering waters of the Chionthar.

Astarion sat beside Mara and a comfortable silence filled the air. Neither said a word as Mara tied off the end of her braid and moved the hair away from her neck. She tugged at the collar of her sleep tunic, exposing the flesh of her neck to the vampire under the pale moonlight. A deep pink blush appeared from her cheeks to the tips of her ears, this was the most exposed Mara had ever been.

“I’ll only take a little,” Astarion could smell fear radiating from Mara’s body. “I don’t normally feed on humans. I feed on animals - bears, boars, and maybe even the occasional kobold. Never humans, but I just need a little so I’m strong enough to go find something more filling.”

Mara turned to Astarion to offer him a small tight smile, “I trust you.”

A lie.

Astarion could smell the lie as easily as freshly baked bread. Before Astarion could tell Mara to forget the whole thing, she was lying in front of him with her back towards the camp. Her nimble fingers reached up to move aside a few loose strands of hair.

“I can’t have you getting hair in your meal,” Mara’s voice wavered ever so slightly with nerves.

A small smile tugged on Astarion’s lips as he arched over the young woman. He gazed down upon her long elegant neck in wonder. Astarion gently traced the line of Mara’s artery with the tip of his finger until he reached the sharp curve of her jaw.

“Will it hurt?” Mara felt a shiver run down her spine at his touch. Her heart skipped and her stomach dropped at the dangerous mixture of excitement and fear coursing through her veins. Mara wasn’t sure if Astarion could sense the mixture of emotions swirling inside her, the thought itself was enough to make her weak.

In a shocking moment of tenderness, Astarion cradled her head in his hands and moved so Mara was lying half in his lap. He adjusted her head so they could stare into each other's eyes, “It will sting for only a moment,” he muttered as he gently took her hand in his, “Squeeze twice if I’m taking too much.”

Mara grabbed Astarions hand in a vice grip and swallowed nervously. She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep calming breath. As she exhaled Mara breathed, “I’m ready.”

Astarion protectively hunched over Mara and lowered himself to her neck. In one calculated movement, Astarion bore his fangs and pierced the tender flesh of Mara’s neck.

Mara mustered every ounce of strength to keep from crying out. A sharp pain like no other shot through Mara’s body like a chain of lighting as Astarion’s fangs pierced her skin. Her eyes shot open and a breathless gasp left her lips as Astarion held her body tight to him. Ravenous lips clamped onto the wound as blood began rushing from the puncture wounds.

The sensation was odd but not entirely unpleasant. Mara could feel her blood - her life - slipping through the wound like water through open fingers. A cold numbness radiated from the wound and gradually trickled through the entirety. A stray drop of blood escaped Astarion’s lips, running down Mara’s delicate collar bone, and disappearing beneath the stretched collar of her blouse between her breasts.

Astarion watched the drop of blood disappear and contemplated taking her right there.

Mara’s head gently lulled to the side and her eyes peered up at Astarion’s face. A bit of color gradually returned to his features as a calm almost drunken euphoria washed over his eyes. Astarion was drinking her in, absorbing everything, and could sense the excitement Mara got from their exchange.

Slowly, the numbness started to drift lower into Mara’s chest.

“Astarion,” Mara’s voice was barely above a whisper as she gingerly squeezed his hand twice, “Astarion, it’s too much.”

Even in his blood drunk haze, Astarion felt the weakness of Mara’s grip and heard her words. It took every ounce of will power in his body to pull away from Mara’s neck. Astarion gazed at the blood coating the skin around the wound and ravenously licked her skin until all that was left were two puncture wounds and the forbidden knowledge Astarion cultivated.

“I’m sorry, darling. I got caught up in the moment for a second. You taste,” Astarion paused as he helped Mara sit up straight, “You taste marvelous.”

A shiver ran down Mara’s spine as she held a hand over the wound. Pale blue light emanated between her fingers as Mara attempted to heal the wound, “I’ll have to have Shadowheart fix this in the morning. I’m a horrible healer, but at least it’s not bleeding anymore. I would hate to become a snack for any other vampire lurking in the woods.”

Astarion chuckled and shook his head. He hated the idea - he even loathed the idea that anyone else would try to drink from Mara, or that she would intimately trust another. Perhaps it was his territorial instrinks, or perhaps it was that feeling he refused to acknowledge that sparked this anger inside him.

“No, we can’t have that, can we?” Astarion replied, “Now, as delicious as you are, I need to find a more filling meal.”

He quickly rose to his feet and began walking away but stopped in his tracks when he heard Mara’s voice.

“Wait,” Mara adjusted her tunic as Astarion turned towards her, “How are we going to feed you in the future? You can’t just drink from people when you wish, or need blood. If you ask,” she emphasized that word, “then you may drink from me when you need to.”

Astarion masked the shock he felt by giving Mara a sly smile, “Of course, my dear. From now on I will only dine on your lovely neck with your permission, my gracious and most accommodating lady.”

Mara smiled softly as she made herself comfortable on her bedroll. Mara tugged her blanket over her body and offered Astarion a small wave goodbye, “Happy hunting, Astarion.”

“Sweet dreams, my lady.”

#larian studios #bg3 fic #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #astarion x mc #astarion x tav #astarion fic #astarion oneshot #fanfic #gale of waterdeep #baldurs gate oc

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penguuthegentoo · 2 months

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My current roster of brainrot kids

More details about them under the cut!

Bahari - Mousefolk (gerbil) - lv20 (17 Creation Bard/3 Sea Sorcerer) - She’s an ex noble, current mythic adventurer and world renowned musician. She loves to leap before she looks and lives her life without regrets. She’s reckless but the life of the party!

Montana - Genasi (air) - lv10 Fey Ranger - A sweet fey lad raised in the spring court of the feywilds. He’s a soft hearted knight whose biggest drive is protecting those around him and doing what’s right. They are absolutely in love with their fiancé and would (and have) go to hell for her. They have a habit of taking the world onto their shoulders but lately they’ve begun the long road to healing. (I believe in him!)

Vani’tas - Eladrin (autumn) - lv12 Sun Soul Monk - (Reluctant) chief of the town of Kor’rahk. Vani is a jockish young man who tries way too hard to prove to those around him that he’s capable of being a leader. He’s inquisitive and curious— a bit to his detriment sometimes. He doesn’t like solving all problems with violence but if words won’t work, his fists surely will!

Ravitri - Halfelf - lv6 Bladesong Wizard - A bookworm on a self driven pilgrimage around the world aiming to connect with his lost heritage. He’s excitable and often falling over himself to take notes on the world around him. He’s hoping to prove to his mother that he’s a capable warrior.

Fatine - Shifter (Swiftstride - waterdeer) - lv 4 Nature Cleric - A mysterious young woman with a lack of social skills but an abundance of smiles and glee. She often leans towards violence, thinking most problems can be solved with a mace, but if it benefits her then she could be persuaded against it.

Friedrich - Changeling - lv14 (10 Trickster Rogue/4 Archfey Warlock) - A changeling assassin sent by the autumn court to infiltrate the material plane and gather vital intel to aid the autumn court in its war with the winter court. He recently deflected and have begun concocting a way to kill his handler— the dreaded Archfey Lady of Shadows. He’ll stop at nothing to see her dead.

Rue - Tiefling (levistus) - lv5 Celestial Warlock - A tiefling who wants to reclaim his halo and wings. He’s cool headed, workaholic detective whose mind is purely focused on his job and pleasing his celestial patron. Which, would be fine, if not for his celestial partner at work making his life (and heart) hell. (Affectionate)

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honourablejester · 2 months

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While on the subject, my favourite subclasses (so far) for each D&D 5e class:

Artificer: Gonna be honest, I don’t do much with artificers, but just going on vibes, while I understand it’s not the most mechanically brilliant of the options, I still just love Alchemist. I just like me some bubbling beakers, you know?

Barbarian: Ancestral Guardian. I love Zealot, I love Wild Magic, I could be persuaded towards Beast, particularly for small characters (scuttly little beast barbarian gnome, I like the vibes), but it’s still Ancestral Guardian. I want to be a barbarian with a pack of ghosts following them around!

Bard: For the longest time, it was Lore, for similar reasons that Knowledge clerics are my joint first favourite clerics. It feels like the old Irish bards, the oral knowledge and magic, and I had a ghoulish little half-elven lore bard named Feyla Thenn who was a lot of fun. But recently … I really like Creation? It definitely does have that spellsinger vibe, singing things into being, and honestly the ability to just sing myself up 50ft of rope, or a grappling hook, or a ladder, or a key, is just … endlessly useful and fun.

Cleric: If I have to pick one, singular, then Twilight. But it is two, because every time I make a cleric, Twilight and Knowledge have a fist fight in my head, and the only reason Twilight wins is because it’s prettier. I like twinkling sparkly bits. But Knowledge is forever there, loyal and true, waiting for me to return to it. (Tempest is the runner up, because I like big booms and I cannot lie. Also ocean).

Druid: Stars. No competition. If I make a druid, they’re gonna be a Stars druid, unless there’s a compelling setting reason for them to be anything else. I like land druids, I’ll flirt with spores, but as a stars druid I get to turn into a mobile starfield and smite people, and there’s just no beating that.

Fighter: Like the artificer, I don’t do much with fighter, but both Rune Knights and Eldritch Knights have a bit of a draw to them. Particularly Rune Knights. I like the hulking, placid, but smarter and more dangerous than you think sort of vibes they have.

Monk: Again, not my class, but I do enjoy a Mercy Monk. I also weirdly have a fondness for the Sun Soul? I like shiny things and radiant damage, but also the Sun Soul gives me kind of anime vibes? Channeling your ki into a radiant aura. IDK, I’m just weirdly fond of the Sun Soul as a concept.

Paladin: As we’ve discussed, a threeway fight between Redemption, Watchers and Devotion, but my love of John Donne and the imagery of weary gothic knights in a world of darkness forever pulls me towards Devotion first. Though, you know. Cosmic horror definitely gives Watchers some points, and I like the mercy first ethos of Redemption.

Ranger: Fey Wanderer. I like skills and languages! For themes and imagery, though, Swarmkeeper. I want a warforged ‘scarecrow’ ranger with a flock of crows. I want a dhampir or changeling swarmkeeper with a swarm of moths. I like swarms. Swarms are good. I love the imagery.

Rogue: Phantom. Again, fairly big gap between this and the closest runner up. I really like ghosts? Like with the Ancestral Barbarian, I just really like ghosts, and the story potential of a character that is perpetually followed by them. Aided by them. I will also give some points to Swashbuckler, though, because I enjoy a good old fashioned daring scoundrel, and I really like swashbuckler movies.

Sorcerer: Aberrant Mind. Again, I enjoy the horror-themed subclasses? Though having played a Clockwork Soul, I also like their whole ‘return to centre’ sort of feel. And, you know. I enjoy a tempest cleric, so Storm sorcerers also get a look in. And Draconic, because ‘my grandma is a green dragon’ is always fun. I think sorcerer is the main class where I kind of like everybody and will give them all a whirl.

Warlock: Fathomless or GOOlock. Neck and neck. I do enjoy a Genielock, there’s fun to be had with Bottled Respite, and I have a fair few ideas for Celestial too, because I like the idea of being hired, on a mercenary basis, to aid the forces of good. I love the idea of some pragmatic deva somewhere just hiring, no convictions necessary, I will simply pay you in magic to fix this evil for me. It’s a great vibe. But Fathomless and GOOlock fill my cosmic horror love so well. I think the edge might go to Fathomless. Because tentacle. And also ocean. Heh.

Wizard: Illusion. Scribes and Abjuration hold joint second place, I love them both dearly. Bookish wizards and tanky wizards are excellent. But I love the diggy, trickster, seeker nature of illusionists. I love the playing with reality, the use of illusion to hide or reveal truth, the philosophical underpinning of a character that chooses, fully consciously, to pursue this school of magic. Also Phantasmal Force is an evil, evil spell, and I love it. Pick up the Metamagic Adept feat and get subtle spell, have a tonne of fun.

There are probably not surprising for most people, but I hadn’t gone through it by class before. So. Here we are?

#d&d #5e #favourite subclasses #likely no surprises

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mackjlee9 · 2 years

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[Kinktober 2022]

Character & Prompt;

Kokichi Muta/Mechamaru| Wet Dream

•|word count; 1282|•

(I really wanted to write about him, so this one-shot has quite a plot)

Ever since he met (M/n) for the first time he's wanted to have something with him. Kokichi fell in love with the (h/c)-haired male the instant he saw him. He couldn't understand why or how he fell in love so quickly with a guy he just met, but he liked the tingly sensations that surged through his body every time they talked, at least, that distracted him from the constant suffering and pain he had to go through.

The longer it passed, the stronger his feelings got for him, going as far as to daydream about him, but those innocent fantasies changed into something dirtier when he saw the male naked stripping for the first time. He didn't mean to, he was just walking past (M/n)'s room when he heard him groan, so he stopped to see what was going on.

And through Mechamaru's eyes, he saw how (M/n) was taking off his shirt to inspect a wound on his side a little better, standing in front of his mirror, "Fuck," he muttered whenever the smallest movement would pull on the wound, slightly opening it more.

Something about seeing (M/n) without a shirt and with a frown on his face made Kokichi fill flustered, so he turned around and took Mechamaru to his room. After laying the cyborg on the bed, Kokichi stared off into the endless void surrounding him. He didn't understand it quite well. But he wanted to see him shirtless more often, observe that frown up close.

That day was the day when Kokichi started craving a normal body more than ever. To experience what it would be like to move, to walk and talk without feeling pain, to feel someone else's touch. To feel desire and love.

So, not really feeling satisfied with the thought of being used by (M/n) like nothing but a flashlight, Kokichi did it. He contacted Mahito and Geto.

Of course, he told (M/n) what he wanted to do, and even if he tried to persuade Kokichi from not doing it, the black-haired male ended up convincing him, to help him afterward, 'cause he was sure he was gonna die otherwise. (M/n) accepted and waited at a reasonable distance where both, Sorcerer nor Curse would be able to find him.

He saw Kokichi's Mechamaru, the huge cyborg was visible from a distance, good thing his cursed technique was able to reverse time on a small section of the veil so he could get it within being detected.

(M/n) waited, in painful silence as he heard how those two hurt his best friend, and crush him to death. Or at least, they thought they had killed Kokichi, and deeming their work done, they left the scene.

Preparing his curse, (M/n) jumped through the threes that were still standing and rushed toward Kokichi, who was crushed under some metallic pieces. Taking a deep breath, (M/n) reversed time on the heavy things crushing Kokichi, and made them stop in mid-air while he pulled the black-haired male from under there.

Hearing the metal fall on the ground, (M/n) reversed time on Kokichi, his wounds slowly closing, as if they were never there to begin with. It took him a while, but he was finally done, Kokichi looked unharmed, but he still had to wait for him to wake up.

When he did, the first thing Kokichi saw were (M/n)'s teary eyes and gentle smile, his heart speeding up and his face getting hot. He sat up abruptly, which made him dizzy, but (M/n) prevented him from hurting himself.

"You should rest for a bit, Muta, let me help you," being picked up wasn't a new feeling, but this time he didn't feel pain everywhere at being carried, so Kokichi let himself relax against (M/n), and he closed his eyes.

//////

Feeling wet kisses on his neck and hands stroking his lower body, Kokichi gasped and slowly opened his eyes. He was laying on a bed, and someone was on top of him, both of them stripped naked, their bodies touching and rubbing against each other.

"Muta..." The sound of (M/n)'s voice next to his ear made Kokichi shiver, letting out a moan at foreign but pleasing feelings on his body, "I can't hold back any longer..." Backing away from his neck, (M/n) made eye contact with him, gently holding his face in his hands, "I need to make you mine, I don't wanna lose you again."

Releasing a muffled whimper, Kokichi lifted his hands to grip (M/n)'s hair, his legs being spread apart and sweetly stroked, tender fingers gracing his entrance before slowly being pushed in, stretching his insides.

Moans left Kokichi's mouth, and at some point, (M/n) didn't care about trying to muffle them, letting his lewd noises fill his ears, bouncing off the walls surrounding them.

"I'm gonna make you mine, Muta," aligning his cock to Kokichi's entrance, (M/n) started pushing inside him, slow and gentle, waiting for him to adjust to his size, but that wasn't needed. Kokichi wrapped his shaky legs around (M/n)'s hips, forcing him to push his whole length inside his tight walls. Both of them moaned, calling for the other while keeping a tight grip on each other. Neither of them wanted to let go. Ever.

"I love you... (M/n)..." Kokichi mumbled in the male's ear, scratching his back as his eyes rolled into the back of his at the extreme pleasure he felt surging through his body.

"Me too, I... I love you too, Muta..." He responded, groaning between sentences as he struggled to hold in his orgasm, "Fuck, I'm gonna cum," he muttered, hiding his face on Kokichi's neck.

"In... Inside me, cum inside me~" Kokichi pleaded, tears falling down his face, his mind jumbled with random thoughts.

With every move of his hips, (M/n) groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic as his orgasm hit him, filling Kokichi with his hot cum. The black-haired male mewled at the feeling of being filled, his cum spurting out of his cock and staining his abdomen, even up to his chest.

"That was... amazing..."

//////

(M/n) was unsure of what he should do in this kind of situation. Should he play dumb and pretend he didn't hear anything? Or say something about it? 'Cause man, he was so fucking embarrassed after hearing Kokichi moaning his name in his sleep, he even had an erection! And (M/n) was pretty sure he came in his sleep too!

What do I do now?!

But he didn't have time to think about it, because Kokichi woke up.

"Wha-? Where-?" Walking closer to his bed, (M/n) could hold in his smirk, leaning over him to tease him, enjoying the flustered look on his face.

"Damn, Muta, I didn't know you were interested in me like that too~"

Kokichi was panicking, just now realizing that he had a wet dream about (M/n)! Not only that but also... his underwear was wet and sticky.

"I-Uh, I didn't- this wasn't-" he paused for a moment when he realized something he missed, "Wait... Too? What does that-?"

Not letting him finish his sentence, (M/n) leaned down close enough to give him a short kiss, catching the male off-guard.

"I like you too, Muta~" was all he said before walking away and leaving the room.

Kokichi didn't know if he should feel ashamed or glad about that wet dream.

#.mackjlee9's kinktober #.kinktober 2022 #jjk x reader #jjk mechamaru x reader #jjk kokichi muta x reader #kokichi muta x reader #mechamaru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #male reader #reader insert #x reader #smut #kinktober 2022

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zorritoenllamas · 7 months

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Birthday Gift [ Quincy x Olivine ]

Warnings: Top Quincy, Bottom Olivine, NSFW, Explicit content. Just Olivine getting his birthday gift from Quincy ;)

You've been warned ;)

"Olivine, your bottom looks as flashy as ever, but would you please go sit the hell down?"

The young auburn man spoke to the priest from behind, who was bent over moving some logs in the fireplace to keep the fire burning, offering his rear end to public view. At the unsubtle comment, his cheeks reddened, embarrassed. By now he should be used to the Grand Sorcerer's ways, but somehow, Eiden still managed to make him blush. He was so blunt...

"Eiden!" he reproached him fondly, as if to a child, followed by a chuckle. He didn't mind that kind of comment coming from someone as close to him. "I'm sorry, I... I'm not used to..."

"I know, everyone knows that, but the main idea of all this was precisely to be able to make a celebration for you", Eiden frowned a little and folded his arms. It was the eve of Olivine's birthday, and all the clan members had made an effort to gather that night to celebrate together. "You haven't stopped helping with everything, even though I explicitly asked you not to.... Come on, even Kuya and Quincy came! You don't even want to imagine what I had to do to get those two to attend", the chestnut felt a shiver run down his back.

Quincy hadn't complained too much, promising him a comfortable place to sleep and dried meat for Topper had been enough to persuade him. Kuya, on the other hand...

"Oh? I could have sworn I just heard my name landing on your lips, young Master...", as if materializing out of nowhere, a thin man accompanied by a strong smell of incense appeared leaning against the wall where the fireplace was recessed. "Kuya! God, someday you're going to kill me with a heart attack", Eiden put a hand to his chest, he had indeed been startled. His reaction made the yokai smile with delight.

"Young Master, anyone listening to you might think my presence is becoming a threat to you...", he paused for a moment to chuckle with satisfaction. "It is not to my liking to interrupt other people's conversations, even if they are about myself, but.... Certain characters are becoming incredibly irritating...", still slurring his words and with his usual bored tone, Kuya directed his gaze towards the center of the room.

The huge table was overflowing with food, a veritable feast. Aster had spared no expense. The cooks had put special care into Olivine's favorite dishes, following the list that Eiden had personally given them after asking all the priests of the church what food the Father usually preferred. It had been a nice surprise for the olive-haired young man.

At the end that was closest to the fireplace....

"Not yet, Father Olivine must be the first to taste everything", Yakumo was interposing himself between the table in front of Karu and Blade, arms outstretched. The wolf boy was visibly salivating, ready to jump on top of the desserts at any moment, while the e-droid had his arms full of jars with various types of spices and sweeteners, "but little Yakumo, the last book I read clearly said that to make your meals tastier, you have to give them explosive contrasts of flavors! Look! Little Rei was kind enough to give it to me so you could read it too!" he said, smiling charmingly as always, as he waved the blissful book in front of the young chef's face. Nearby, the alluded one watched the scene with interest, as he offered pieces of candy to the owl on his shoulder, who was also watching expectantly.

Meanwhile, at the other end...

"Idiot incubus! That's not how birthday cakes work!", Aster was reprimanding Morvay, accompanied by Edmond and Dante, who had apparently commandeered a small vial containing a bright, pink liquid of unknown provenance. "I just want to help! Everybody knows that a little bit of incubus essence is more than enough to light things up a bit, so the party will be more fun!", the young incubus was arguing as he tried to take the vial from the hands of Dante, who was holding it firmly over his head. Edmond only sighed, clutching the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb.

Eiden and Olivine understood at once the urgency of the situation.

"Alright, let's not keep them waiting any longer", the priest immediately joined them, heading towards the head of the table. The place of honor. He was a little embarrassed to sit there in front of everyone, but Eiden had urged him to agree to have a little more of the limelight for once, for a change. The celebration was for him, after all.

Once he was seated, everyone took their places one by one. Looks of anticipation, others hungry and others bored, but all with a certain warmth that was impossible to hide in its entirety. He could even recognize a distinct gleam in the eyes of a certain bird who was also seated at the table next to his usual companion. They were all present...

Everyone?

"Does anyone know where the hell Quincy is?", the Grand Sorcerer looked all around the room unable to find the huge hermit or his furry companion. "I saw him leave in the direction of the kitchen? Perhaps he went to steal my food taking advantage of the fact that I was distracted?", Karu mumbled fully audibly, grunting in the process. "Of course not, Quincy wouldn't do that, he was probably just looking for a quieter place to sleep", Eiden shook his head. After all, he understood that the hubbub of the other members could be a nuisance to the blond who was used to the peaceful and undisturbed silence of his cabin in the woods. "Okay, get started, I'll go after him and be back in a few minutes", the chestnut added. "I'll go", Olivine interrupted him with his usual warm smile, grabbing his arm just in time to prevent him from getting up. "Oh? No need, you're the guest of honor. I'll just go and hurry back---", "Eiden", the priest spoke again, giving his arm an affectionate squeeze before releasing him. His tone was as gentle as ever, but at the same time, he spoke with enough authority that no one dared to contradict him. "I'll go. I'll be right back, please eat", he stood up leaving the boy somewhat confused. "Okay, we'll wait here", he finally replied. The other members started eating, all except Kuya, who just watched the scene while arching one of his eyebrows thoughtfully.

"It's only a few minutes to midnight! We'll wait for you, Olivine!", Eiden shouted at his back, and it was the last thing the priest heard before closing the door behind him.

The father made his way to the kitchen, quickly descending to the second floor. In the last stretch, where there was only a long, earthenware-floored tunnel, the echo of his footsteps thundered loudly against the bare walls. There were several doors on the sides, as the castle had many cellars for food, wine, and other things Olivine did not know about. Everything was lit by large hanging candle chandeliers, and a couple of lanterns in the corners of the passageways that led to the other storerooms.

He looked to the sides, searching. Not a soul was to be seen.

He headed for the last door at the end of the hallway, the kitchen door, when he suddenly felt a strong grip wrap around his waist and a hand on his lips. In less than a second, his feet were off the floor, and a tall, warm body crushed him against the cold stone wall, depositing him on the floor again. Air escaped his lungs as his back hit the wall.

Strong, calloused hands slipped through his clothes, taking advantage of the slit in his suit at the level of his abdomen, touching every inch of his exposed skin as much as they could, eliciting several gasps from him. When the volume of these began to rise, his lips were silenced with a hungry kiss, and much rougher than he expected. Olivine could immediately feel his member hardening, instantly dampening his underwear at the brutality with which he was being treated. He had been waiting for this moment for days.

"You were taking too long", a deep, rapping voice said between kisses to the young priest. The man in front of him brought his lips to his right ear, biting his lobe, wrenching a moan of pleasure from him. "Eiden said... You didn't want to come", Olivine rested his chin on the blond's shoulder, smiling. "And he's right. How much time do we have?", Quincy asked him in a whisper, causing Olivine's legs to tremble with excitement. "Long enough", the father answered him, entwining his fingers in his blond hair, tugging his head up to kiss him once more.

They kissed deeply, biting their lips from time to time. Strands of saliva soon slid down the corners of the priest's mouth, who wrapped his arms around the man, rubbing against him in desperation. He could feel his whole body boiling, clouding his good judgment and making him completely forget where they were, that someone could discover them at any moment, or that his moans could easily be heard.

Honestly, he didn't care too much.

"So impatient...", Quincy bent down a little, just enough to reach for Olivine's ass with his hands and squeeze his buttocks, gripping it firmly. "Ah... Quincy, please...", the priest looked up at him pleadingly, depositing kisses on his chin, following the line of his jaw, "please," he repeated again, as he licked along the skin of his neck. This time, it was the blond's turn to let out a hoarse moan. Who was he to refuse in the face of such a plea? "Come here", the man lifted him up easily, letting his legs wrap around his waist, and opened one of the hallway doors, stepping into the nearest cellar.

Inside the room were many barrels of different liquors, a wooden table in the center, and a few shelves with cookbooks. The smell of wine sweetened the atmosphere just enough, without being a nuisance.

Quincy closed the door, leaving the warehouse in almost total darkness except for the moonlight that was filtering through the only window in the place, located at the top of the wall.

Carefully, he set his companion down on the table, which creaked under the young man's weight. The halo coming through the window reached directly over the father's green eyes, making them resemble a pair of sparkling emeralds. The priest was so beautiful that it left Quincy speechless at his beauty, even though the man himself was not particularly talkative. Noticing the older man's scrutiny, Olivine smiled tenderly and contentedly. The blond's intense gaze could say and hide many things, but the immense respect and admiration with which he always watched him stole his breath every time.

The older man moved closer to the young one, kissing his jaw, tracing a path of kisses down to the base of his neck, causing Olivine to sigh in pleasure. "Topper?", he asked, as he wrapped his arms around the blond's shoulders. "With the others", it was more of a grunt than a murmur. Quincy didn't like to talk more than necessary. The young one grinned again. He found the hermit's moodiness adorable.

The priest opened his jacket and shirt, exposing his chest and his trademark piercings. Quncy didn't need any extra prompting. As soon as he had access, he used his hands to willingly caress the young man's bulging pecs, fiddling with the chains that linked his nipples to the gem of his abdomen. "Ah... Yes, like that...", Olivine bit his lip as he watched his companion. His body was sensitive, but his reactions to this man in particular made him feel like he could melt at any moment. They continued like this for a few more minutes, amid moans and pleas escaping the lips of the younger man, who grew more desperate with each passing second.

"Ah... Quincy...?", the blond was sucking on one of Olivine's nipples, delighting in its soft touch, however he stopped when he heard the young man's tone. Something was bothering him, his tone gave it away.... Or it could be that Quincy already knew him too well to notice such subtleties. He paused his caresses, to concentrate on watching his expression, and waited.

"You... What Eiden said...", the Father averted his eyes, staring at the floor. What Eiden had said? What had the little devil said? Quincy could no longer remember.... "About you not wanting to come...", the priest felt like a teenager, but he couldn't help but ask; He'd rather ask than be left in doubt. If he really didn't want to be there... "Did you really mean---? Mmmh!", he didn't manage to finish the sentence, as the man had pinched his two nipples hard at the same time.

The man grabbed him roughly, lifting him off the table to turn him over and leave his abdomen resting against the cold surface. He didn't give him time to react, as a sharp smack on the priest's ass made him shudder, trying to stifle the cry of pleasure that threatened to escape his throat. "That's enough", Quincy bent over him so he could unbutton his pants, yanking them down along with his underwear. Olivine's erection bounced embarrassingly, bumping against the table. The blond took his time to admire the firm buttocks in front of him, so majestic that they made him believe that there must definitely be some deity capable of creating such a marvel.

The only thing that could be heard in the midst of the silence was the gasping breath of the priest, who waited obediently, helpless and exposed. That feeling of being the prey captured by a predator, totally at the expense of whatever Quincy wanted to do with him, turned him on to levels he had never known before, completely forgetting the talk they were having. The man was a perfect sexual match, without ever needing to have asked him for anything, absolutely nothing. They had complemented each other like two puzzle pieces from the start.

The sound of another spank and another muffled cry cut through the silence like a sword. "Quin...cy...", Olivine looked back, his eyes watering and his tongue hanging out of his mouth, lasciviously, expectantly. "Please, please...", he rubbed his legs together, wiggling his ass, inviting the man to take him at once. How was it possible for a priest to be so devilishly sensual? Quincy certainly had had a long time in his life to bring his stoicism to bear in the face of all sorts of events, but there was something about the young man that managed to awaken his purest and deepest animal instincts. "Spread them apart with your hands", he commanded. The father groaned and immediately grasped his buttocks firmly, doing as he had been instructed, embarrassed and even more aroused, if that was possible.

His entrance was already glistening with essence, fully moistened and dilated.

"A man of God shouldn't behave like a whore in heat", Quincy slipped one of his fingers in without warning, causing Olivine to arch his back and lift his ass even higher. "Ahh... the God... of Klein.... will forgive my sins...", needing no further action, the priest began to move back and forth slowly, impaling himself around the blond's index finger as deep as he could, moaning sonorously with each movement.

Quincy's erection, which was already throbbing painfully inside his pants, seemed to reach a new level of thickness as he watched the father's lustful actions. His moans were increasing, and the blond hadn't even moved. With his free hand, the man delivered one more spank, grabbing his ass to keep him from moving, ignoring his whimpers. "Hold still", he knew they didn't have time, but he couldn't help but provoke him as much as he could. It took a moment, but Olivine again obeyed the command.

As soon as he calmed down, Quincy inserted another of his fingers, beginning a torturously slow back-and-forth motion. "Ahhh, Quin... cy...", Olivine was dying to increase the pace, but he knew that if he moved the man would stop on the spot. "Quincy, Quincy...", he repeated like a mantra, like the prayers he repeated every morning upon waking to thank the God of Klein for the gift of a new day. The hermit continued, unchanging, leisurely.

By the time he inserted his third finger, the priest's anus was already beginning to leak obscenely. Quincy was purposefully avoiding his most sensitive spot, and Olivine felt that at any moment he was going to explode. "Please... Please, I'm going to... I'm going to...", his companion briefly caressed his ass, trying to calm him down a bit. "Just a little more", he murmured, keeping the same leisurely pace. He too was reaching his limit, but it wasn't time yet.

The priest had already released his buttocks and was clinging to the table as best he could, his voice breaking into long, vibrating moans. A small pool of saliva had formed where his chin touched the wood. Quincy had played with him for hours before, so he knew perfectly well that the man could take all the time in the world until he was satisfied with his actions. On a normal day, Olivine thought those qualities in his partner were like a blessing straight from heaven. But now they were somewhere else, and worse, the other members of the clan were waiting for his return. How long had it been since he had left the dining hall? Would they send someone to look for them?, anyone who came a little closer could spot them right away thanks to the moans of his Holiness.

Suddenly, the quiet of the night was interrupted by a loud ringing bell.

The church tower, far away, announced that it was midnight.

Quincy withdrew his fingers immediately and, without further ado, unbuttoned his pants, pulling out his member and positioning his glans against the young man's entrance.

When the bell rang again, Quincy penetrated Olivine's rear with a single movement, working his way between his tight buttocks. The father screamed at the top of his lungs in surprise, feeling like he was going to split in half. The blond was huge, and although they had been through this many times in the past, the young man thought he could never quite get used to it.

Quincy didn't give him a second to catch his breath. The man began to lunge furiously at the priest's anus, abusing it as much as he wanted, while the chimes continued to echo off the walls.

"Coming here... it's troublesome", he gasped, feeling that he would soon be hit by his orgasm as well as the young father, who seemed on the verge of cumming. "It's troublesome", he repeated, "but you.... You're not... Don't forget that...", he rammed him hard, punctuating each sentence with a new thrust. Olivine had leaned completely against the table, no longer able to hold back his cries at all, which echoed in tandem with the bells. His mind was totally seized by the sensations of pleasure, unable to respond to Quincy's words.

They continued like this until the clock announced twelve bells, making Olivine's birthday official. Quincy quickened the pace as much as he could, and the priest moaned out his name with relish as he was, at last, pounded hard by his orgasm. Before long, the blond also climaxed, filling Olivine with waves of hot semen. Soon, both men found themselves panting to catch their breath, one on top of the other, the older being careful not to deposit his full weight on the father so as not to crush him.

Silence once again reigned in the basement, only being interrupted by their breaths.

Seconds, minutes passed, until finally Olivine managed to regain enough composure to speak with a trickle of voice. "That was... the best birthday present...", he laughed with effort, still struggling to resume calmer breathing. Quincy didn't respond, but deposited a kiss on the back of the young man's neck.

They allowed themselves a few more moments to enjoy each other's company, the warmth post termination, until reality was inevitably crashing down on the priest's shoulders. They needed to return as soon as possible... Not without first making a brief and much needed stop in the restroom...

Promising himself that he would return to clean everything properly before the night was over, the priest turned his face to meet the hermit's, catching his lips in a kiss, before starting to move.

_______________________________________

"Olivine, where the hell had you been, we were just about to go out and look for you guys! Kuya's been commenting on strange things since you left...", Eiden had been going around in circles for the last 20 minutes, debating whether they should go find the priest before eating the cake, seriously doubting several of the diners' capacity for self-control at that point in the evening. The alcohol had taken its toll on most of the guests, and the Grand Sorcerer was no exception. "Eiden, I'm so sorry, I couldn't find Mr. Quincy and he ended up finding me, I have yet to fully memorize the mansion...", Olivine apologized, feeling somewhat guilty. He could see out of the corner of his eye a speck of white hair approaching at full speed, dodging everyone present, giving little squeals of excitement.

Topper circled him and quickly climbed onto his shoulders, rubbing his head against the priest excitedly. Olivine stroked him gently behind the ears, feeling tender at the animal's obvious show of affection. "No, don't apologize, it's just that it's past midnight and.... Quincy, you just got here!" the chestnut exclaimed in exasperation. The blond had ignored the entire crowd to go lean back in one of the plush lounge chairs, automatically closing his eyes. "He's so inconsiderate", the young man added, embracing the father by his shoulders effusively, to lead him towards the table. "Come, come, you have many presents to open!", he told him with his usual infectious smile. "Presents?", the priest asked curiously.

In the middle of the table was a small pile of gifts. In the distance, Olivine could recognize a stylized handwriting that undoubtedly belonged to Edmond. The brightly wrapped package with a bunch of different ribbons had to be from Blade. Another with a visible homely touch bore Yakumo's aura all over it. And so, he identified one by one, without needing to open them, including one with a notoriously violet color scheme, and another that came adorned with an owl feather. His heart was softened. "Eiden, it wasn't necessary...", "we knew you'd say that, but we did it anyway. Here!", he offered him a package accompanied with an envelope, a letter. "This one is from me. It's not much, but I can assure you I put my all into it", he told him before hugging him warmly.

Olivine was about to take the gift, when Topper jumped on him again. He was carrying something in his muzzle. The priest reached out to take the package.

It was a box wrapped in a simple dark green cloth, which gave off a pleasant smell of herbs. He didn't think about it for a second and opened it.

Inside he found a small talisman, very rustic, with intricate leather and vine designs, adorned with a tiny hand-carved wooden figure. It was a bear.

"Oh? Is that...?", Eiden glared at it, approaching the talisman for a closer look. Olivine could only smile, as he turned his gaze to the other end of the room, from where Quincy watched the scene silently.

Their gazes met, and the man smiled at him before closing his eyes again to drift off to sleep. Feeling like he was floating again, Olivine struggled to return to the real world. He could thank him properly later.

This had definitely been the most beautiful birthday he had ever had in his life.

#fanfiction #fanfic #quinoli #quincy #olivine #nu carnival #nucani #zorritoenllamas

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susurrusinperpetum · 1 year

Text

As long as I could

✦ ruth serbel, calto serbel, agnes reuben | under the oak tree

✦ tags: this piece is completely SFW.

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

‘This is becoming insufferable - His last thought before leaving the room.

Another year has passed. The same topics, the same questions, the same answers… Who said that teaching doesn’t have its downside? Although it wasn’t entirely burdensome, the activity had its perks: That feeling of satisfaction while sharing his knowledge and enlightening others' minds; seeing those young eyes sparkle in awe.

That’s certainly rewarding.

However, he had been devoid of enthusiasm lately. He couldn’t distinguish what exactly, but something was certainly odd.

Maybe, I need more time for research - He thought as if trying to convince himself while mentally crafting a plan to pass over his classes to a possible victim. Maybe, just maybe, that’s all he needed, more time studying, satisfying his curiosity, and asking the right questions to get to the ultimate goal: discovering the truth of everything and anything. Lost in thought, he walked through the empty hall, analyzing the last months, how different they felt, the emptiness pressuring the edges of a void forming inside, a peculiar yet familiar feeling.

After a while, he shook his head to clear the dark thoughts. He wasn’t the type of person that used to dwell too much on those things; that was utterly useless. What’s the point of doing such a thing? It was better to focus on doing something positive for his own sake. It could be anything. The logical option, after all, shall be his work. Yes, I should concentrate more on my research.

"Professor Ruth!"

A clear voice stopped his racing thoughts. A blonde young sorcerer appeared behind him. At the unexpected interruption, he replaced his frown -which he didn’t note at first - with a nonchalant demeanour and turned around to see the slender image before him.

It was that noble apprentice that joined the World Tower not long ago. With boyish short hair and manly clothes, it was quite a surprise to hear a feminine voice come from that figure, and even more when the girl seemed neither bothered nor bewildered at his evident confusion the first time they met.

"Good Morning, Professor! Do you have a minute to spare?"

He appreciated the curiosity and enthusiasm of the young mage; she’s got a unique determination and eagerness, and anyone could see her resolution to grow swiftly. As if she needed to prove something.

She has been quite persistent in looking for his mentorship, putting deaf ears each time he redirected her to another professor that could be willing to deal with her. Although he has never openly rejected to guide or even mentor a student, it didn’t imply that he was keen to do it all the time, or at least not these past days - and definitely, not now- . And somehow, she managed to attach herself to him at every opportunity since the first time he gave her classes.

"Morning Agnes, Unfortunately, I’m certainly quite busy at the moment. I think a professor at Kabalah can help you out. There are sorcerers well equipped to help another fellow of their tower. Why don’t you ask Professor Ellis? She is a talented and resourceful mage."

Without waiting for a response, he resumed his walk through the halls toward his office. He wasn’t inclined to get immersed into whatever Agnes had in mind, not this time. He barely had the energy to go through his day as it was to add some random -unnecessary- stuff to his schedule. Nonetheless, she remained insistent.

He couldn’t help himself rolling his eyes while hearing her endless baffling arguments. It was surprising how she was never short of resources: trying to persuade him using different angles, from the World Tower's need for well-prepared sorcerers, the duty of a professor to help ANY student, even attempting to inflate his ego.

She’s tenacious. I give her that.

Agnes followed him throughout the halls until his office. When Ruth opened the door and entered, she simply slipped her way into the office too.

Quite presumptuous.

Although the place was spacious enough to hold a small laboratory on one side and a long desk on the other near the fireplace, it was crowded with unfinished work, piles of books, bags with mysterious contents, jars of herbs, tools, and all types of equipment a mage could use, leaving just the right space for up to 5 persons to gather within. Nevertheless, the cramped objects within the office almost passed unnoticed by Agnes, while Ruth just gave a tired glance at his unfinished work located aside before sighing hefty. The view was draining his energy.

He was pondering whether to ignore her until she gave up or give her a quick answer to whatever she was asking about while he was sitting at his large cluttered desk, full of stacked parchments that needed his attention. Magic formulas, runes analysis, research results… The number of class works he needed to review covered almost the complete surface of the enormous desk, creating several piles.

At that sight, he was internally screaming. How am I supposed to deal with all of this, my research, and the administrative work for the Tower?! Are they trying to work me to death?!

For one moment, he forgot that Agnes was still there, sitting in front of the broad desk with a bright smile on her face and a piece of parchment in her hands. He groaned inwardly. She insisted, for the third time, that he should provide feedback on her recent update regarding the magic tool she was working on diligently. Her main goal was to present it to the head of the Tower. Therefore, she needed to refine any detail as much as possible, and Ruth was the one that would help her get through.

"Look, I’m honoured that you have chosen me, one of the best sorcerers in this place, to review your work. A wise decision, I must say. However, as you can see, I’m drowning in work. I haven’t had the opportunity for good rest in months! Unfortunately, I may not have the time at the moment."

He almost couldn’t believe the resolution of the young sorcerer. No matter how hard he tried to reject her, she was there, in front of his desk, determined to get what she was looking for. He groaned loudly, moving back his head. It wasn’t a good idea at the moment. It didn’t matter how he looked at it, there was a possibility he could give a piece of bad advice in the rush of the moment, a risk he wanted to avoid as much as possible.

However, it was unbearable to impose resistance at a quite persistent persona, no more. The feeling was draining.

Defeated, with her fourth speech in a row, he snapped the piece of parchment from her hands. After a few moments of deliberation and analyzing its contents, he provided something plausible as an evaluation. At least, it was enough to satisfy the blonde’s pushy behaviour.

"Thank you, Professor!" The witty comments didn’t disturb Agnes' bright mood. "I shall leave you and start working on the valuable feedback."

He dismissively waved a hand, not even bothering to say something.

After she left the office, Ruth remained in his seat with his head resting in one hand, looking at the piles of work waiting to be attended, yawning until an old small leather pouch caught his attention. A part of its blurry designs could be seen from under one side of a crumbled pile of parchments and books. Without thinking, his hand grabbed the stained pouch exposing it from its bury location and leaving out a bigger disorder behind- caressing the opaque patterns, almost disappearing in the material.

‘Staring thoughtfully at it, his mind was in turmoil. It was impossible to stop it now. In the solitude of his space, he could feel everything and nothing. Images and concepts started flooding his brain, filling every corner and crevice. It was futile to try to stop himself now.

Now, it’s silence.

Now, your nature is silence , an unattainable expression of your heart and soul. Static in a moment, the fathomless of his memories surrounded him from core to atman. Numbness, in a state of going and not going, Where the mind in awareness could do nothing but be a witness to his own understanding.

And, which understanding would it be?

Any effort to fake ignorance would be in vain.

He knew the consequences, all the possibilities, and their promises to become a reality. The light of knowledge was doomed; in his mind, he wanted to keep oblivious to his thoughts. The emotions created a mirage, a last attempt to disappear nothingness from existence; that promptly collided with reasoning, speaking its truth. The signs were there. Clear and shining, guiding him into a conclusion he desperately wanted to evade.

A shadow growing upon him snapped his mind from the momentum. He didn’t notice when Calto entered his office or when he locked the door.

Bringing up his gaze to Calto’s face, he could understand it. There was no need for words. The grim darkness in his features shuddered his soul.

The mirage, the threads of hope, was now gone.

"I’m sorry" - Calto muttered solemnly and pitifully.

The last straw of composure crashed at those words. The surreal realization of the inevitable was there; an emptiness filled with pain and sorrow.

"By God, no…"

A trembling voice escaped from his throat. Tears filled his vision while his body shook. He could feel his heart sinking; it was like his body had lost the ability to breathe.

The grief untied the knot, his tangled thoughts fading slowly, allowing a wave of emotions to crash through his consciousness.

He knew it. He just knew it. He blamed himself, for the dream, for fearing the awakening. Afraid to open his eyes, to see the signs clearly. Where there was hope, reality shook him truly. The tiny murmur inside him, denying what was real, faded away to the touch of the hand on his shoulder. The voice echoed in his head like indistinguishable whispers making ripples in his mind. The empathy wasn’t enough to heal. No magic or technique, potion or talk, nothing could be enough, not now.

His grip clung tightly to the pouch as if it was about to disappear, while his head hung as if its weight was too much to bear. Calto was by his side, patiently, trying somehow to bring comfort in that overwhelming moment.

He didn't know how much time passed when his tears ran dry, and the sobbing slowly subsided. He just felt the numbness that was left. His lips trembled as if trying to say something but his voice couldn’t be heard. His eyes shut tightly.

"Take the rest of the day and all the time you need. Allow yourself to breathe; take a walk or rest in your chambers. There is no need for you to stay here. I’ll cover your tasks," Calto said, swallowing hard before pausing for a moment. "Ruth, if you need anything, my door is open." He tried with all his might to bring him a fragment of comfort. Space and time were the only things he could provide, and he hoped that somehow, that could be enough.

Unable to look at him, Ruth remained frozen in his chair, staring at the floor, every part of him in pause; as if his brain stuttered trying to catch up on those words. A fragile squeeze on his shoulder made his body react. Lost, rambling in his mind, he just simply nodded at him. After a moment, he moved mechanically. Walking by mere instinct, not paying attention to his surroundings.

A while later, he found himself lying down in his bed, with the pouch in his hand.

He stared at the ceiling; the sinews stiffened, and his body was heavy like stone. Reality felt odd. Like a dream, like he couldn’t think, fogginess surrounding his mind, suspended in a moment, feeling a pressure that attached his limbs to the spacious bed, holding his breath without even realizing it.

I just need to close my eyes and sleep. Then, everything will be better.

Tossing and turning around the bed full of restlessness, he could only stare at the barren landscape of his mattress. He caressed the emptiness on his blankets, lethargic, feeling how the hopes of a peaceful night abandoned his body while the darkness crept silently through the room. On the window for the first time, the starry night felt meaningless.

‘This is not working.

Deprived with burned, pained eyes, he gazed at the dark. While sitting at the edge of the bed, the scattered images of hankered memories, the things left, everything was there to remind him about the loss. He harshly rubbed his face and hair; it was evident he needed to do something. Whatever to stop the sleepless nights.

In a desperate attempt, he grabbed a pillow and a blanket, placing them in that corner full of dispersed books. The musty smell of the books hoarded his senses, allowing him to escape from reality, pause his thoughts and -finally- fall asleep.

At least for some hours.

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

“Everything will pass. It just takes time.”

The words echoed in his head -meaningless- drowned, and consumed by his pain. People around him kept repeating those overused words as if the grief could subside and the memories disappear.

The truth is, the memories didn’t disappear. They were there, sometimes, more alive than before.

The bittersweet surrealism of a life moving on in pieces, half-finished, half-broken; a crowded void with the shadows of what was there: the warmth, that hair, those eyes, the laughs, the voice, the conversations left… He could even swear to feel a delusion of the mana he learned to identify as the palm of his hand.

The memories were there, everywhere, in the smallest things, in the mundane; within the silence between the thoughts, among the sea of words, taking residence in a gap that never closes, that will never be restored.

Sometimes, everything felt too real.

Desperately seeking balance to fill his growing void, he turned to the familiar, to the known. His work should suffice.

The search for knowledge would embrace him.

The days turned into weeks. Sleeping by books became common in his life. He even started collecting books of interest, stacking them on the sides where he usually would find the slumber, as an alleviation when the longing was too much to bear. The long nights at the Library were routine.

Everything was better than being alone in that room, seeing the remnants of what it was, the ghosts and memories coalescing in a neverending stream, taking away the sleep.

And then, he thought about finding a resemblance of comfort in books. But, is it really comfortable if it's full of doubts?

His uneasiness just kept growing and growing with each day that passed. In the battle for balance, his mind with more questions than answers. The silence, the news, and the unknowns, each unspoken word. He needed to know: a reason, a cause, a detail - ‘something that would help in his constant grappling for calm.

He needed the truth.

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

From the hall, it could be heard the sounds of parchments flipped forcefully, groans and whimpers resonating through his office. Reading the content of reports, messages, and telegrams -once, twice, three times- Ruth was found by his spacious desk, scraping his head harshly, trying so hard to understand how the situation turned out in that way - what all of this meant. Why did this happen?

‘This should be a fucking joke!

He spent several weeks knocking on doors, tracking, looking, seeking for any piece of information that could help him understand what occurred, tracing back all the events.

"What the hell are you thinking?!" - Calto stormed into his office.

"I’m doing well. Thanks for asking."

"Are you out of your mind?!"

"I don’t know what you are talking about" - Ruth replied, visibly annoyed, with his gaze fixed on the parchments on his desk.

"Don’t dare to play the fool. Your little huff can jeopardize your position, all your work…"

"I just asked some questions. In all honesty, I don’t see why the commotion…"

"Making such a ruckus it’s not going to help anyone. Are you willing to trouble everybody for nothing?"

"Really?! If this is just a trivial matter, why are you so dramatic?! A couple of questions wouldn't kill anyone."

"How can you be so stupidly stubborn?! What are you expecting to get?"

"…" with arms crossed and a sullen face, Ruth avoided Calto’s eyes.

"Ludicrous!" - Calto said, exasperated by his demeanour. "Have you ever stopped to think for a second? "

"Do you really think I'm an idiot? I know what I'm doing…!"

"It's absurd! I told you to breathe, take a break, and clear your mind; you could even take all the time you needed and come back to work later. Why is it so hard for you to listen?!"

"Would you mind explaining how this is a terrible thing? Do you mean I don't even have the right to know what happened? I had to know!"

"And then what?! What are your plans?! Don’t you understand?! It will not get her ba…" Calto cut himself off mid-sentence, regretting each word that escaped his mouth.

Ruth flinched at the unexpected words. The sadness and anger in his features were clear as water, almost palpable.

"Do you think I don't know? How am I supposed to live like she didn't exist? Just because the others find the matter insignificant doesn't mean that she isn’t, wasn’t," He grabbed his throbbing head for a moment. "I cannot fake it. I needed to do something!"

"And what's exactly that?" - Calto said, in the calmest tone he could perform at the moment, crossing his arms.

"I… I needed to know, to understand how all of this..." Ruth paused for a moment, not finding the right words to express what was on his mind. "I wanted…"

He hesitated for a moment, rubbing his hand over his face and hair, shaking his head while sighing heavily before continuing.

"I did what I thought was the best under the circumstances. However, I didn't expect to find this! Now, I’m not surprised that those decrepit sorcerers are so worried about this situation!" - he tossed a bunch of parchments to the other side of the desk in Calto’s direction.

Calto rubbed his temples before reaching the parchments on the desk. "That’s already been reviewed…" He trailed his words while reading each document, one after another. His jaw tightened in frustration.

"How did you get this?" Calto paused for a moment, clearly thinking about the possibilities of his discovery. "There are proper procedures to follow. This should be escalated through formal channels."

"Are you senile?" Ruth furiously scratched his messy hair with both hands before letting out a long groan. "Don’t you understand what this means?" Suddenly, something clicked in his mind, like a lightning striking over him.

Ruth's face reddened and he said irritably. "Did you know it?"

Calto’s face hardened at the implications of that phrase. - "I wasn’t aware of the details this time". His blatant and short reply did not subside the uneasiness of his nephew.

"This time?" Ruth didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the sudden revelation. "Were there more?!"

"Calm down. Listen, you are letting your emotions get in the way…"

"They are using us as their pawns, and you knew it!"

"If we follow the appropriate procedures, we could prevent similar events in the future…" Calto struggled to remain calm throughout the exchange.

"Should I be dancing and jumping with joy?" Ruth retorted sarcastically. "I don’t know what is worse: the Ignorance or the Idiocy." He said, collapsing in a chair nearby him with both hands covering his face, letting out a heavy groan.

"Mind your words! We are considering issuing sanctions due to the lack of cooperation and misinformation on the last missions. ‘This would support the case against Balto."

Ruth just snorted as he shook his head in disbelief.

He looked up at the ceiling as if praying to God for answers, patience, for a sign that everything was just a horrible nightmare, while Calto took a place by his side, leaving a heavy sigh when reviewing again all the discovered information.

In the middle of the silent room, all the details revealed themselves with a burst of intuition. Ruth could feel his body trembling slightly and his heart racing. He barely managed to hide the sarcastic chuckle that dared to emerge from inside out after realizing how clear it was and how, even now, everything was set and done.

Interrupting his thoughts, the voice of Calto, like a painted sound in the background trying hard to make ripples through his mind, covered the room with words of wisdom and sense. He knew, deep inside, it was true. There was some logic behind all that preaching; no matter how hard his soul denied the words, his mind was there to accept them; each part of them. However, he couldn’t stop himself and wondered, after all this time, is this how everything would end? Is this all he could have done? Procedures, laws, policies, rules… How could the Tower really protect a sorcerer? What was the point…?

"It would be better if I handled this from now on." With a sigh, Calto said solemnly, grabbing all the parchments and notes over the desk. It could be heard a tint of frustration in his voice.

Contemplating the magnitude of the situation, Ruth merely nodded at the sight of his uncle near the door. There was no sign of satisfaction or contentment in both mages. They remained in their positions, looking into each other's eyes, with more thoughts than words to say.

After breaking eye contact, Calto in front of the open door gazed at Ruth’s figure rubbing his temples while slowly walking to the window.

"You should think about what you want for your future" - Calto’s last words didn’t make Ruth react in any way. He just stood silently looking out the window, as if there was no one else in the room. With a heavy sigh, Calto closed the door behind him.

‘Throughout the window, the beautiful sight of a sea in shades of blue. He looked at the glimmer, the intermittent shining dancing alongside the placid waves, an alluring yet distant landscape.

My future…

He extended a hand to the sparkling lights, feeling the warmth of the sun in his palm; breathing deeply, feeling the air fill his lungs, absorbing the fresh and salty breeze that crashed to the cold grey walls of the Tower.

Is this the life I wanted to live?

He remained like this, unmovable, contemplating the vastness, the emptiness; drowning beneath the waves, feeling the thirst aching inside. An unattainable desire echoed within.

All this knowledge for nothing

Longing for something that wasn’t, that will not be; for the things that will not become. Something so far removed, a reverie defined by what cannot be changed; by what was everything, and now was taken all away. The beginning of a lifetime of without(s).

You are not here anymore.

He stayed like this for so long, breathing in and breathing out, hanging in one thought, embracing the reality. The truth.

Moulting in a process, everything felt so strange and familiar. The heaviness, the remorse, the loss; he kept thinking of what it was and what it could be. The words, the promises, the news, what it was and what it will be. But, was there a point? In the end, the world is what it is.

What could I have done?

The truth was, he was so tired of waiting, of filling a glass that would never placate the thirst, of becoming an inanimated part of those imponent Towers—feeling how it hurt to keep sitting idle on one side, waiting for the world to change on its own. Would it be different if he used his knowledge? Would the past be any different?

He clasped his hands together as a prayer, leaning over the window, looking at the vast sea once more. He could feel it, he needed to do something.

Across the endless sea, a vision appeared in front of him; his eyes were wide open at the sudden idea.

A change

An opportunity

A boat.

Feeling his resolution setting in, he proclaimed at the sky.

"I stayed as long as I could"

#ruth serbel #under the oak tree #calto serbel #agnes reuben #wold tower

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neon-lights-stardust-nights · 1 year

Text

Alright, I'm info-dumping. No more sitting here vibrating alone.

DESPITE NOT HAVING A NAME, my KH s/i has such a wealth of backstory already. Funnily enuogh, the two people who ended up fused together to make faer do have names, which is weirdly fitting anyway. Because (dum da da dum!) fae is an amnesiac!

Fae was originally two different guys back when keyblades were more common, but not just like fucking everywhere. I’m playing fast and loose with KH lore here, so forgive me a little, okay? They both had keyblades, and when they were preteens, they were both human. The two love birds hit a snag though, because one of them got turned into a cat! How isn’t exactly important, nor have I fully decided yet.

The one who became a cat is named Isao, and the one who stayed a human was Mijo. Despite becoming a humanly intelligent cat—Isao could still wield a keyblade! So training pressed on, and they both continued toward becoming masters. Eventually though, darkness came to consume the world they lived in. Isao was a powerful sorcerer by then, referencing himself as The Best Cat Magician (though there wasn’t exactly many others to compete with…) Mijo, in contrast, rocked amazing physical capabilities. Artful dodger, hard hitter, basically good at anything that didn’t involve casting a spell himself.

When everything went down, Isao’s magic was helpful, but Isao was inherently a glass canon. Though Isao maybe could’ve been helpful, Mijo insisted on protecting him from like… ALL the heartless that were swarming the place. This went as well as expected. After a long battle, with Isao hiding away and watching, Mijo fell to the heartless. In that split second where he lost his heart though, Isao got a weird urge. He knew he needed to make it into the swarm before a heartless formed, something he’d only be quick enough to do with his magic. What to do after, he wasn’t sure—Isao only knew he needed to get in there.

So: he did! And in a moment, his purpose was revealed to him. Sacrificing himself, he used his heart to tether Mijo’s heart back to him. Now carrying a heart twisted into an anchor along with his own, Mijo had the amazing strength of all his physical skills, and all of Isao’s magic. The combined effort in one super-creature was enough to stop the heartless. It didn’t save the world, however. Everyone had either been devoured by the darkness, or had fled. Without Isao by his side, Mijo was officially alone.

Small side tangent, but this is where some of the more bakeneko-y visual aspects come in! Isao had two tails, and when he gives Mijo his heart, Mijo gets an energy outline sort of like a Dragon Ball character powering up. The outline gives Mijo fake kitty ears, but it also gives him two tails with flames at their ends! I know that’s usually more nekomata than bakeneko, but I can light up my tails in the headspace, so I like giving my s/is firey tails anyway…

Tangent over. Mijo was maybe one of the strongest things around. Not alive, not everywhere, not THE strongest: but Mijo was surely up there now. Driven by grief and rage over the sacrifice of his boyfriend, he wandered from world to world and faught… Anything, actually. It wasn’t just heartless—Mijo would battle anything that challenged him in a dissociative fog. Mijo eventually happened upon Xehanort in some form (undecided) and he recognized three things. Firstly, that is a keyblade wielder with two hearts (and thus) two keyblades. Two, that’s a really powerful keyblade wielder that I could use to my advantage. But then three, this bitch is going to be a hazard to my plans if I don’t act.

See, Mijo was hard to persuade. Mijo didn’t really take in words or anything so well anymore, and his voice had gone rotten to disuse. So, Xehanort avoided Mijo and shadowed him for a brief time. Long enough to study him enough to get a gist for what’s going on. He didn’t know the literal, whole story—but he could recognize the darkness in Mijo’s heart, along with the shield and tether that was Isao’s heart. It didn’t take him long to put together that some great trauma must have caused this (and thus, this dissociative state that made current Mijo so damn dangerous.) His approach was that if he could remove the trauma, he could make Mijo a proper pawn.

It isn’t like surgery though—he couldn’t just cut Mijo open and take out this emotional tumor. So, he pit Mijo against powerful heartless after powerful heartless, until Mijo was finally worn down enough. When all was said and done, Mijo was battered and beaten. He was so… Tired. Xehanort took full advantage of this. He gave Mijo a little villain speech, but Mijo was barely paying attention. The last thing Mijo ever heard or saw was Xehanort leaning over him and telling him goodnight.

That’s also the last thing current-day s/i remembers.

Fae doesn’t remember faers name, faers past, faers anything. Xehanort wiped Mijo and Isao’s past off the face of the Earth with that, because there was no one left from their world of origin TO remember them. All fae has to faers name is the ability to wield two keyblades, and a love for summoning magic…

And a mystery to unravel…

ANYWAY FAE NEEDS A NAME.

#sanya.txt #s/i lore #that should probably be a tag tbh

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lauravanarendonkbaugh · 1 year

Text

A Midwinter Theft

“So the way I figure it, you get into the house and then you use your wizardry to get the letter out of the lockbox.”

Galen suppressed a smile and continued chewing. Beside him, Lisveth tore the brown bread into pieces. “And how does that go, exactly?” she asked.

The man across the table shrugged. “Use your powers to open the box and float the letter over to the window or something. Wizardry.”

She shook her head. “That’s not how these things work.”

Galen glanced across the room, more out of habit and avoidance than anything that drew his eye. It was a typical village public room, populated with farmers and craftsmen, moderately loud with greetings and laughter. No one seemed to be paying particular attention to their table.

“Don’t play dumb with me just to get more pay,” said Rolf. “I’ve made you the best offer I can, and pretending it’s harder won’t get you any more.”

Lisveth sighed and put down the bread. That got Galen’s attention; Lisveth rarely set aside food, especially when someone else was paying for it, as she had insisted this potential client do. It meant she intended to make a particularly disparaging point in her negotiations.

It could also mean she had detected something potentially dangerous and wanted her hands free for casting, just in case. But he did not imagine there were too many threats coming at them in the tavern.

“Look,” Lisveth said with mock patience, “how many sorcerers have you talked with?”

“I’m talking with you right now.”

“Not including me. How many people with real proficiency in magic have you spoken to? Ever?”

Galen guessed where she was going with this; this wasn’t a tiny village, but it was no city to boast regular work for those with skills for magic.

Rolf frowned. “I’ve known a couple of wizards through here.”

“Sorcerers,” Lisveth corrected mildly. “And did you try to hire them for work?”

He waved a hand. “Look, I don’t care how you get the thing. That’s not my problem; I’m paying you so it will be your problem. I just want you to fetch it and bring it safely to me.”

Galen cleared his throat. “Is the letter yours?”

“What?” Rolf looked at him and gave a one-shouldered shrug. “What does that matter?”

“It doesn’t,” Lisveth answered with only a slight glance toward Galen.

“It does matter,” Galen protested. “We’re not thieves.”

Lisveth checked an eyeroll in frustration. “We’re only thieves if we know it doesn’t belong to him. As it stands, he’s asked us to pick something up and deliver it to him, and that does not make us thieves.”

Galen looked at the man across the table. “Will you excuse us a moment?”

The man’s mouth turned down at the corners, but he pushed back from the table. “Got to take a leak anyway.”

Galen turned to Lisveth, who was already starting to argue, and he raised a hand. “We agreed to try it my way for a while,” he said above her protest.

“Your way is complicated and cuts out two-thirds of our potential customers.” She was short, but she had no problem glaring up at him. “And it risks annoying the rest by suggesting they’re dishonest.”

“They may well be dishonest.”

“They’re not going to be persuaded into honesty by you asking them if they’re honest,” Lisveth said irritably. “They’re just going to be offended if they are honest and wary if they’re not. And wary and offended don’t pay so well. Your way is bad for business.”

“It’s also less wrong. Which I know you don’t care about, but it’s also safer. Less legal entanglement.” Galen gestured to the empty space across the table. “If this man really owns this thing, why doesn’t he go to the local magistrate and ask for help in getting it back?”

“Oh, just as you’d go right up to the local sheriff and ask for help?” Lisveth’s skepticism dripped from her consonants. “Surely he’d do the right thing by you? Because you’re not a thief, right?”

“That’s different.”

“Different enough that you’d approach a magistrate without hesitation?”

Galen clenched his jaw, unable to readily answer and hating that she had him so neatly. “Fine. But let’s at least ask him if he owns it.”

“To what point? Do you think he’s going to say no if he doesn’t? And what are you going to do if he does say no?”

“If you’re right, he won’t say no, and we’ll at least have heard him say yes.” It was a feeble compromise, but Galen couldn’t think of anything else to negotiate in the moment.

When Rolf returned, Lisveth set her elbows on the table and put a piece of brown bread into her mouth. “My colleague would like to hear you say that you own the object in question,” she said around the bread.

He looked back and forth between the two of them. “I own it,” he said. “It was stolen. I want you to get it back for me.”

“There, you see?” Lisveth turned from Galen back to the client. “All right, then.”

Galen still wasn’t sure he liked it. But he supposed he had lost considerable moral ground when he’d joined Lisveth on the road the same night she’d robbed his caravan. At least they were taking odd jobs instead of highway robbery, and if some of those jobs were shady, it was still a step above. Mostly.

He wondered what was in this letter they were being hired to retrieve.

***

The house looked typical enough. There were shutters on the windows, but many houses had those without being dens of vice. Rolf’s claims of theft by criminal gang weren’t proven yet.

It was set back from the road, with trees and bushes obscuring the yard and windows, but that could have been a result of neglected pruning as much as desire to conceal. Galen tried to think on Lisveth’s easy assurance that they did not know that the letter did not belong to their client Rolf, and that since he said it had been stolen from him, it was not thievery to steal it back for him. It did not make him feel better.

But they worked their way up the concealing line of bushes and around the side of the house, watching for a possible entry point. At least there was no snow to reflect light, or to show their steps, or to highlight them in the dark, or to crunch underfoot, or to creep down their collars since they’d left their cloaks in their rented room. Cloaks got in the way of wriggling into places and were dangerous liabilities in a fight.

“Why do you need us to break in and get it?” Galen had asked practically. “Since you already know where it is?”

“I saw him put it into the lockbox when he took it,” Rolf answered. “But I’m a chandler, I work with soft wax. I’m not a fighting man. If he comes in while I’m breaking into his lockbox…but you could fight your way out. And bring my letter with you.”

“We’ll hope it’s in the same place,” Lisveth said.

Rolf nodded. “He’d have no reason to move it. He knows I’m not able to come for him. And he’s cocky. Very cocky.”

“Not without reason,” Lisveth observed. “Since no one is going up against him.”

Rolf had ducked his head. “But that’s why I’m hiring you. And he won’t have moved it, because he’s not expecting trouble.”

Crouching against the wall, Galen reached out and touched Lisveth’s arm, and he nodded toward the far corner of the house. A dark figure stood there, mostly concealed by shadow, looking out toward the road. The house was not unguarded.

Lisveth nodded once and they pressed closer to the wall. She looked at the window nearest them. Rolf had said the study was in the northwest of the house, and this was the most efficient entry. It looked as if it wouldn’t be too difficult; the shutters were not fastened, and the glazing was not barred, and Lisveth wriggled a slim metal shim into a joint to unhook the simple latch.

“Cocky,” she breathed.

Galen put his hands against the window. It was wide, boasting of wealth with glass an arm’s-length across. The part which was hinged to swing out was smaller and would be a tight fit, but they should both be able to get through. There was no way to guess if the hinges were well-oiled or noisy, so Galen got his fingers into the gap, flexed the swinging door just enough to test his grip, and then nodded to Lisveth. She tapped his shoulder, once, twice, thrice.

On her third tap a crash sounded from the trees beyond where the guard stood, covering the sound of Galen pulling the casement open. As the guard turned to stare into the darkness, Galen boosted Lisveth into the open window. She writhed through like an eel.

Galen was not nearly so petite or lithe, and after pulling himself up to the chest level opening, he leaned in and twisted to fit his shoulders. His entry was less graceful, but he caught the floor with his hands as he kicked his way through and managed to collapse quietly to the carpeted floor.

The carpet was nice, spread over hardwood that showed little wear. The study was spacious, really spacious, and grander than expected for a merchant in a town like this. Galen’s suspicions increased and his worry eased a little. Whether their client Rolf was honest or not, this Feliks was more than he probably wanted to tangle with.

Galen pulled the window closed, to avoid notice from the outside guard, and then they turned away from each other and began scanning for the lockbox Rolf had described. Feliks had not been thoughtful enough to leave the box conveniently atop his desk, and they crouched in the dark to peer at shelves and squint into cabinets.

Lisveth found it on a lower shelf behind a carved door—too fine for a country merchant, this Feliks was definitely earning more than his legitimate business could support—and she whispered a stream of invective. “Too big to fit out that little casement,” she grumbled. “We’ll have to open it and take only what we came for.”

“Can you pick the lock?”

“Not likely,” she answered with annoyance. “But I can wedge in the right pieces to let a farm boy with pig-throwing muscles leverage it apart.”

“Who throws pigs? You have the oddest ideas of farm work.”

She worked in the metal shims, and Galen was just about to give it a sharp strike when the candle flared.

Galen started to spin but there was already a blade over his shoulder, too near his neck. He stopped and slowly raised his hands to shoulder height. Someone grabbed Lisveth by the arm and pulled her away, putting a short knife under her chin.

Galen did not know where the first two had come from, but there was a man emerging from behind the cloaks hanging in a corner, and more were coming through the door, now open. Galen had focused too much on the shelves around the desk and had not even considered searching the room for concealed people—which seemed a ridiculous thing to be wary of, but clearly necessary.

“They said you were magic mercenaries,” a man said with a sneer. He passed a candle to another, who set about lighting the lamps all around the room. Too many lamps, too much oil, too much ostentatious wealth. “But you’re just a couple of ordinary rats trying to pop a lock. You’re not mercenaries, you’re conmen.”

Each of Galen’s arms was held by someone who did not look as if he’d been hired for ledger work. Just one man held Lisveth, but he had the blade too close to risk struggle. His other hand began to drift across her shoulder and chest, and Lisveth grabbed for it. “Watch it!”

“Connor!” snapped the sneering man, and Connor stopped trying. Someone else stepped up and they each took one of Lisveth’s arms, holding her more securely. Galen was both relieved and frustrated at her increased restraint.

He was immobile for now, held by two men and with the short sword still resting on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry for that,” the sneering man—probably Feliks—said. “I didn’t tell Connor and the others that this might also be a business meeting. But you see, I wanted to talk with you.”

“You could have come to the public room like everyone else,” Galen said. Then he closed his mouth. Let Lisveth do the talking; she was better at it, and he could watch for an opening. Even the best guards could not stay vigilant in every passing second.

“Then I could not have seen you work,” Feliks said with an expansive smile, turning up his hands to encompass the spacious study. “I wanted to see what you were capable of. Of course, I thought I would see more magic and less window-prying.”

They had been set up. Rolf had baited them. Or, Galen considered, they had been observed meeting with Rolf and the obvious conclusion of hire had been drawn. Either way, they were caught, and it was only a question of whether Rolf had known.

Feliks looked at Galen, who did not answer. Let Lisveth handle him.

After a moment without response, Feliks turned to Lisveth, who was managing to look bored with a knife beside her face. He waited, but she did not speak, either.

He gestured. “Aren’t you curious as to what I mean by a business meeting?”

Lisveth gave the tiniest of sighs. “If you must.”

He scowled. “You’re very cold for a woman whose life hangs by my word.”

“The truth is, I’m not feeling very imperiled,” Lisveth replied patiently. “If you wanted to kill us, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. But since we are, and since you clearly want someone to ask about your proposition, it seems the only way forward is through. So what is it you want, Feliks?”

Galen shifted his eyes to the man on his right. As fun as it could be to watch Lisveth at work, his priority was to get free. The guard on the right was watching Lisveth, but his grip was still tight on Galen’s arm. The guard on the left knew his business and had a fingertip in the nerves. It hurt.

Feliks’s scowl deepened. “I thought I would offer you a job.” He gestured. “I can afford better terms than Rolf, and I could use your skills.”

“Our skills?” Lisveth gave a half-grin. “The ones you were disparaging as common cons just a moment ago? Does this usually work for you, playing down the worth of what you want to buy?”

Feliks’s lips thinned. “You are not in a position to negotiate, nor to be cheeky.”

“You are not in a position to assume.”

That broke his scowl. He looked back and forth between his captives and laughed aloud. “Whatever could you mean, girl?”

Lisveth lifted her chin. “What’s in the letter?”

That surprised him. “What does that have to do with anything here? We’re talking about—“

“What’s in the letter? Or was that just a ruse to get us in here to talk, because you aren’t welcome in the pub?”

Feliks crossed his arms. “I suppose Rolf told you it’s a letter of the heart, didn’t he? A tender missive from his lover, precious for its sentimental value? That’s true to a point, I suppose, but his sweet lover included a gift of land with the poetry. Dandles and deeds, that’s what can happen when one pecks above his rank.”

Lisveth made a face.

“You asked, I answered. So Rolf wasn’t wrong to want it back. He can’t claim the land was stolen from him without exposing the affair, so as long as I have the deed, it’s a tidy deal for me, right?”

Galen tried to shift his aching left arm, but the guard was still alert. Apparently he did not find Lisveth’s drama engrossing. Galen looked to the right again.

“If you say so,” Lisveth said.

Feliks stepped forward. “You’re supposed to be the sorceress, right? Why aren’t you using any magic?”

“I thought you were trying to hold me here.” Lisveth gave a little nod toward one of the men holding her. “Did you want me to walk out?”

“I want to know what I’m buying. Can you or can’t you use magic?”

“First off, you can’t buy what isn’t for sale to you,” Lisveth corrected firmly. “And then you haven’t exactly been a welcoming business partner, what with calling me a rat and all. And finally, you’ve got brutes on my arms, and don’t you know a sorceress needs her hands to work her magic?”

“Is that so?” Feliks smirked. “Well, we’re not letting you go to show us, if that’s what you were after.”

“Do you think I would have told you so plainly if that’s what mattered to me?” Lisveth’s voice dripped with disdain. “There are other things than me you should be more worried about.”

“We’ve got your red boy right here.” He pointed a thumb at Galen, who felt himself grow uncomfortably warm. It galled him, first that the man had called him red and then that the word could bother him even in such a serious situation. His hair color was hardly their chief concern while there was still a sword resting on his shoulder.

Lisveth gave a dismissive shake of her head. “Right now, how many guards are outside this house?”

“What? None.”

Her face suggested rolling her eyes was more effort than this conversation deserved. “Again, do you think being insulting actually helps your business offers?”

He gave a little shrug. “Two.”

“Two.” She shook her head. “Again, wrong answer.”

“I said—“

There was a muffled scream from outside, distant but audible. Galen smothered a smile; Lisveth did sometimes like her drama.

“I’m sorry, I spoke too soon,” Lisveth drawled as Feliks jerked around to look toward the open window. “Now two is a wrong answer.”

“What’s—you came alone, you didn’t hire anyone in town.”

Lisveth shook her head as horrific snarls reached them. Someone outside made a protesting cry. “No. But your first answer, no guards, is about to become truth.”

Feliks closed on her and took the knife from Connor’s hand, pressing it close to her jaw himself. “Stop it. Stop whatever you’re doing, or I’ll kill you now.”

“Oh, yes, kill its master, that will probably make nice with it right away,” Lisveth said evenly, tipping her head up to hold his eyes. “Certainly it won’t come in looking for me, and it surely won’t be upset. Good plan.”

“What is it?” Feliks demanded. “What is it?”

The scream at the window interrupted him, and he turned to stare as a man’s arm came through the open window, grasping for aid. Galen tensed. But before the guard could climb inside, a dark shape leapt through the window, shattering glass and bearing him to the carpet to savage him. Galen had only a quick impression of dark, coarse fur before he struck away the sword and stomped his foot into the knee of the transfixed henchman.

Feliks and the others recoiled from the grisly scene, and the beast raised its head to glare about the room, ragged cloth dangling from its teeth. Galen ignored it as he took the sword and swung the blade to clear back the others.

But they were less concerned with him. Some bolted for the study door, making for the only escape. At the other side of the room, Lisveth put out a foot and tripped Feliks as he rushed from the beast. He rolled, and she kicked him twice before bending for the keys at his waist.

Galen ran to her, jabbing the sword toward Connor, but Connor hesitated, looking at his boss growling and scrabbling on the floor. Feliks grabbed for Lisveth, but she twisted out of his grip and stomped once more, catching him in the groin.

Connor made a little lunge for Lisveth, and Galen ran to intercept. The great beast roared and leapt, faster than Galen, and Connor flinched back as the monster soared at him. Galen struck Connor hard, bearing him to the ground, and punched with the sword pommel as Connor gibbered and coiled into a ball. At the third blow, he went quiet.

Galen got up and turned to see Lisveth working at the lockbox. “It’s got to be this one,” she muttered. “It’s really stuck—oh, fair night, just take the thing. Rolf can sort it.”

“It won’t fit out the window—“

“Break it.”

Galen heaved the lockbox toward the shattered window, and it sailed through the open gap with an incongruous crash of breaking glass. Lisveth snatched a cloak from a hanging peg and bunched it over the sill, blunting the shards as they climbed out.

“Careful,” Galen cautioned. The ground outside was littered with broken glass. “I suppose they’re going to see the window was broken outward.”

“They’ll figure it out when they’re short a few corpses, too,” Lisveth said. “So let’s not wait for it. And there are still two guards out here, unless they’ve gone inside by another route, so keep an eye out.”

Galen hefted the lockbox on his shoulder, and they hurried on through the dark.

***

The following afternoon Rolf was waiting for them at the public room as planned, which probably meant he had not been merely a front for Feliks’s ham-fisted attempt at recruitment. Still, there remained a chance that he had knowingly sent them into a trap, so when Galen thumped the lockbox down on the table hard enough to make the man jump in his chair, he remained standing close behind him, keeping him in his seat.

Lisveth slid into the opposite chair and leaned across the table. “Did you know?”

Rolf was staring at the lockbox. “You brought the whole thing?”

“The lock was stuck. Did you know?”

“Now he’ll know it was taken—now he’ll know everything was taken. He’ll say we stole it all. He’ll—“

“We did steal it all, and that’s not your chief worry right now.” Lisveth’s hand began to smoke on the table, little flickers of flame slipping between her fingers. “Did you know he was waiting? Did you set us up?”

“He was—“ Rolf stopped as his eyes went wide, and Galen had to admit that if he was acting, he was pretty good. “Oh. Oh, no. I told my brother I had talked to you…”

Lisveth’s mouth twisted. “Probably time to have a family talk.”

“I’m so sorry.” Rolf seemed to be struggling for words, trying to apologize even as he realized the betrayal. “I hope…I hope it did not make too much trouble for you…”

Galen moved away from the chair and took a seat. He did not speak. He did not think about brothers or betrayal.

Lisveth did not look at Galen as she opened the lockbox’s lid. “You can take one item. Choose carefully.”

Rolf did not hesitate and did not browse among the bundled papers, going straight for a single packet with a broken seal. “Thank you,” he said.

But she snatched the letter from his hand. “Half a moment.”

Rolf nodded jerkily. “Of course, your payment.”

He opened a pouch of coins, and Lisveth unfolded the paper. He gave a little sound of protest when he saw, but she leaned back with her eyes on the letter. “So there was a land deed involved. I’d wondered why Feliks cared so much about a love letter. And—oh my.” She raised her eyes. “Spicy.”

Rolf’s cheeks and neck were apple-red. “I did not hire you to mock my private affairs.”

“You did not hire us to spend time arguing with a local goat who thinks he’s an ox because he’s in a little pen, either.”

“Next time, keep your plans to yourself until the hired work is done,” Galen said. “It makes our job easier. And less expensive.”

Rolf’s face fell. “I can pay a little more.” He put a stack of coins on the table, and then two additional coins beside it.

Lisveth gave him a flat look. “He put blades to our necks.”

Rolf added a coin.

“And his man made a grab for my chest.”

Rolf hesitated, and then he added one more coin.

Galen scooped the stacks into his palm before Lisveth could continue. “Feliks knows you have it back. If you want to keep that land, you should probably find a way to claim it publicly soon.”

“I can’t…I promised not to let anyone know we are…” Rolf looked at the table. His neck was still red.

“Then you inherited a windfall from a cousin in another town and bought it. Something.” Galen pushed his chair back.

“Wait, what about the rest of this? It’s not mine, and I don’t want it.” Rolf pushed at the lockbox.

That was good thinking. Feliks would not let that go lightly. And it was good that Rolf had said so aloud and plainly.

Galen nodded and half-turned toward the door. Connor was there, not far inside, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Galen beckoned him with a small gesture.

Rolf’s face tightened. “I hired you so there wouldn’t be this trouble.”

“There’s not going to be trouble,” Galen assured him, keeping his eyes on Connor’s purpled face.

Lisveth nodded. “Connor here knows you could have taken anything you wanted, but you took only your own. Connor will relay that to Feliks. Connor knows that taking only your own is a courtesy that should be returned. Connor knows everything in that box will reach Feliks, or Connor is going to wake up with all his fingers eaten off by rats.”

Connor was scowling through his bruises. “You lied to us. You didn’t have any beast. It was all magical fakery. You didn’t kill anyone.”

Lisveth fixed him with a disappointed glare. “Are you really complaining to my face that I should have killed you instead of minimizing the blood on Feliks’s expensive carpet?”

Connor hesitated, and that was enough time for Lisveth to make a dismissive gesture at the lockbox. “Take this back to your master, and if you make sure it all makes it back intact, with nothing misplaced in your own pocket, then he’s had nothing stolen from him and all accounts are settled.”

“Except for the window you broke.” Connor seemed desperate for a rebuttal after the killing argument.

“Except for the window, right. Which wouldn’t have been damaged if you hadn’t grabbed us, so let’s not quibble.”

“This lock’s broken.”

“Feliks should keep it in better condition. Oh, but that reminds me.” She tossed the keyring onto the far end of the table, beyond the lockbox. “There.”

Connor gave her a baleful glance, but he turned and picked up the box and keys. Then he paused to glare at Rolf.

“All accounts settled,” Galen repeated, and Connor huffed but moved back toward the door.

Rolf let out a long breath. “You weren’t supposed to make trouble. You were supposed to get the letter out without Feliks knowing.”

“You weren’t supposed to tell anyone who could alert Feliks we were coming,” Lisveth retorted, “so maybe it’s time to lie in the ditches we’ve dug. And I’m tired of arguing over them.” She raised a hand to catch the attention of a young serving man across the room and held up two fingers. “Unless you’re staying for dinner?”

“You’ll only make me buy it all,” Rolf muttered. He pushed back from the table. “Good night.”

Galen sat down again. “I don’t think he’ll be recommending us to his friends here,” he said to Lisveth.

“I don’t think I want to stay here,” she answered, her eyes tracking their dinners across the room. “You country folk can be so petty.”

Galen rested his chin on his hand. “You want to go pick up some city work?”

“There’d be city food, at least.” She sat back as two bowls of grain and pickled greens in broth were set on the table, sloshing. “Country fare is overrated when it’s the same single vegetable every time.”

“You’re a difficult woman to please.”

“I just like having my standards met.” She began eating as if she didn’t really mind the repetitive fare.

Galen picked up his own spoon. Lisveth had a point; the broth was too salty and the greens too sour. But the town was too small to offer much competition to the public room’s kitchen, he supposed.

Lisveth beckoned a passing servant. “Look, I don’t like to complain, but these greens were pickled in the tears of a jilted lover. What’s the best you have tonight?”

The young man frowned. “I’m sorry, I just fetched those jars from the cellar and—“

“I’m sure it’s not your fault in carrying them. Just tell me, what do you have instead?”

“There’s a kid roasting. But Mistress Megana says it’s for when the merchants come through tonight. It’s caravan day, you know.”

“Is it, now,” Lisveth answered flatly. She leaned forward. “What say you go carve off part of that kid and bring it out to us? They won’t miss a haunch, and you can stretch the rest with some greens if you have to.”

He shook his head. “Mistress Megana would charge a right pair of shiny coins for it, I’m sure. She likes to—“

Lisveth thumped a small pouch onto the table. “Would you like to make Mistress Megana’s day with a triple price for the kid? And with you having the pleasure of knowing that Connor fellow is paying for it?”

The servant quieted, his eyes on the pouch.

“I saw him shoulder-check you when he came in,” Lisveth said, more quietly. “And I saw how the others working here tried to avoid going by him.”

He did not look up. “He’s not a favorite here.”

“Bit grabby with the girls, too, I’d guess?”

He nodded.

Lisveth put her hands behind her neck and stretched. “Well, that’s not my purse, and my friend here”—she jerked her head toward Galen—“is an awful stickler about me taking things that aren’t mine, so I’m going to leave it when I go. But I am awfully hungry just now.”

Galen shrugged. “She’s right. I will make such a fuss if she keeps it.”

The servant put his hand out and rested it on the pouch. “Mistress Megana won’t mind if you pay for it before the caravan comes in, not if I keep back the best loin for the seller she’s sweet on. And the rest of us here will think of you kindly and send a prayer after you.”

“It can float up on the smoke of that pouch,” Lisveth said significantly. “He can recognize that better than coins. He’s got his hands full of lockbox, but in forty minutes or so he’ll get to the house and set it down, and then he might realize something’s missing.”

He nodded, and the coin pouch disappeared into the cleaning rag tucked at his waist. “I’ll be just a moment.” He disappeared toward the kitchen.

Galen leaned on his elbows. “When you made him turn for the keys?”

“So you didn’t see me, either?” Lisveth smiled a pleased little cat smile.

“You know I said accounts were settled.”

“He’s got a problem with his hands. Now accounts are settled.” She gestured across the public room and the people in it. “For the serving folk here, too. I didn’t like how they looked when he came in.”

Galen blew out his breath. “I’ll bet that roasted kid will taste good.”

She grinned. “It’ll taste like settled accounts.”

The meat came with hot root vegetables in butter and a fresh loaf of crusty bread, and they burned themselves tucking into it so quickly. But the food was too tasty to let cool, and anyway they had to finish before Connor could discover his loss and return. Galen wasn’t going to leave anything behind.

In the city, there would be more work, and more questionable work. But they would go together. And for now, that was enough.

(scroll down!)

Please reblog rather than reposting. Thank you!

If you'd like a free (really!) ebook of this story for your library, click here.

This has been a sneak peek for the upcoming story of The Poet’s Eye. If you’ve enjoyed it, make sure you’re subscribed for release news and more.

And if you enjoyed this short story, would you like to try others?

#short story #original fiction #writblr #writing #fantasy #Laura VAB #Laura makes stuff up #am writing fantasy #writers of tumblr #writers #creative writing #magic

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nightphlox · 1 year

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well i didn't realize this blog has no ask button for the ask game, but i did get a few via DM, so!!!

5. What do you wish someone would ask you about push/pull? Answer it now!

You, question-asker, know both of these things already, but here are two: Where in the process of drafting this fic did you come up with the sex shop? Almost last! I had already sketched out almost the whole thing in detailed beat-by-beat bullet points and drafted a big chunk of it. Originally I had a whole different opening where they were at a library and Laudna was (per usual) putting Imogen’s research interests above her own, which was working okay but felt kind of flat. The sex shop thing was much more fun and lively and a better way to get to all the thematic stuff I wanted to do with the sex, so I was all too happy to chuck the old opening. Are the revivify cock rings really enchanted? No. Or at least not with Revivify.

12. Are there any tropes you used to dislike but have grown on you?

I don’t often go for fics that explore sex as a way to work out intense anger. Jealousy, absolutely, but fury? Ehh. HOWEVER, I do click into them anyway, because sometimes that sex can be really insightful character study and then I like it! In the past I would’ve been likelier just to skip it entirely.

13. Are there any tropes you used to like but don’t anymore?

Hmm, so this isn't a trope but I do think it's the best answer I've got? Much like everyone else on tumblr in 2011/12/13, I read a lot of m/m for a while. Johnlock and Cherik mostly iirc, but other stuff too. This is around the same time I came out as Umbrella Identity Queer, Don't Ask Me What Specifically. Over the next bunch of years I became more and more comfortable with identifying as a lesbian and also became less and less interested in reading m/m. (Correlation, not causation.) By around 2015 or so I think I was reading pretty exclusively f/f. I still have some all-time favorite fics that aren't f/f and will happily read non-f/f if by a favorite author or if recommended by a friend, but in general just don't gravitate towards it or seek it out. This is true for both smut and non-smut, but especially true for smut.

14. Are there any tropes you would only read if written by a trusted friend or writer?

A/B/O isn’t my thing, but I could probably be persuaded to give an individual fic a go if I really adored the author’s other work.

17. What highly specific AU do you want to read or write even though you might be the only person to appreciate it?

why am I so bad at this question uhhhh trying to come up with literally anything I'm so bad at AU ideas uhhhhhhh how about one where *spins wheel* laudna's a ghost and imogen's a ghost hunter and they fuck. I have no further way to embellish this someone go for it if you want tho

23. What’s a trope, AU, or concept you’ve never written, but would like to?

I really love all of the "improper use of [spell/magic]" stuff that this fandom gets to do. I have a couple more ideas brewing for installments in what I guess basically is becoming my telepathy sex series, and each of those comes at the telepathy thing in a slightly new/different way. I haven't done Improper Use of Mage Hand which people always seem to have fun with. I'd love to do Improper use of Command but Astoria already did such a smart job with that one (command as permission!!!) that I don't know that I'd have much new to say with it. You'll catch me rooting around the sorcerer and warlock spell lists at some point, I am sure.

#blorbotomy #QUACKY ARE YOU HAPPY NOW #ask games

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simp-ly-writes · 5 months

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What is Left by the Lakeside (pt.1)

Pairing: God!Gale Dekarios x Sorcerer!Reader & Tara

Summary: Gale has ascended into godhood and it seems as though he has forgotten those closest to him in the madness of it. Here lies the outcome of it all with a conversation with Tara- his beloved companion wishing to hold all those close to the man- together.

Warnings: mentions of sadness and regret.

A/N: Inspired by the Gales god epilogue; there are some dialogue spoilers so be warned. I also have not fully finished the game yet I couldn't help myself but to watch some of the possible endings.

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

What is Left by the Lakeside Series (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) (pt.5) (pt.6) you are here

Your mission in saving the world was coming to its end as your crew partied one last time before heading back to your homes and to continue your own stories within Baldur's Gate. Sitting on a rock by the lakeside you held a small, bittersweet smile across your face as your fingers glided gently across the water's surface.

The clear waters sparkled underneath your fingertips- the stars illuminating the sky- painting it was endless tales that you remember becoming lost in as a child huddled up in their bed as you became lost in the valley of dreams.

Sighing to yourself, you listened to the sounds of the water rushing up against the very rocks you sat upon, racing upwards to soak your clothes as you invited the cool night air in to ease your worries of the future. The distant echo of the party from up the hill could still be heard going strong- glasses clinking, the fire roaring loudly as Wyll’s storytelling of your adventures to those who had yet to hear.

You looked down towards the wine bottle that sat unopened by your side, one glass full from earlier while another was waiting to be filled yet a moving form in the shadows called for your attention away from the melancholy thoughts you faced.

“I hope that he is happy…” Tara the Tressym begins to speak while giving you a brief look over before plopping herself down beside you on the rocks. Her wings shuffle slightly at the cool night breeze making its way from across camp as you both look towards the moon illuminating the night.

“How ridiculous it is truly, that ever-growing never sedated ego of his. I must say that I was envious of your ability to persuade him- yet it appears that not even your charms could hold him from godhood.”

Opening your mouth to reply, Tara continues to let out a bitter chuckle while pawing at a piece of your robes that float in the waters below. “Truly fitting isn’t it, Gale Dekarios, the God of Ambition, hm?”

“I sadly agree Tara” You hover your hand subconsciously over Taras fur, your body making an effort to comfort yourself to the closest memory of Gale's presence. But ultimately, you place your hand back into your robes- ignoring the ever growing longing feeling that comes in waves. “He truly is not the man I remember to be- the one I loved to spend my time with- I fear is long forgotten,” you continue with your sentence trailing off as tears well in your eyes.

“Maybe so- maybe not. But it does not do us well to dwell on all the possibilities, some of which we both are to blame for causing the outcomes.”

“I am sorry Tara, for not doing more, for thinking I could not.” You say as you turn your head further away from her.

“Please. Don’t you start sounding like Mrs. Dekarios too. There are only so many crying people over Gale I can handle at a moment. Who knew my boy had such a pull on people's hearts?” Tara teases, lightning the mood a tad as your tears become choked chuckles. Later drying your tears and taking a sip out of your wine, you pick up conversation once more.

“I know you expected better of me-”

“Yes I did.”

“Yet Gale had his own part to play in this too- he is his own man- or well was after all.”

“That he was, that- he was, and a foolish one at best. But nevertheless, we both have learned from our wrongdoings and he had not. We both have become stronger out of this already.”

“You are really wise for a cat you know?” you tease, testing the waters so to speak as you twirl the glass in your hand, watching as the blood red liquid fell from the walls- crashing into itself.

“A Tressym- my dear. But I take the compliment.”

Tara shifts her spot on the rocks, moving to ensure her eyes meet your own as they glow slightly in the darkness of the night.

“Perhaps you’d be willing to come meet Gale's mother after tonight? She misses him as dearly as you do it seems-” Tara questions while tilting her head- taking in your sorrow-filled appearance.

“You say that like you don’t miss the god himself.” You say as you tip the wine glass towards her for dramatic effect.

Tara scoffs lightly, ruffling the feathers of her wings before replying in an even tone, “I do, but a part of me always knew that tonight may have been a reality. It still is taking my heart time to process this reality as truth- the same way you both are feeling. I think it would do the group a world of good for us all to discuss the man of tonight who knew him as he was.”

There is a slight twinkle in her eye as you try and perceive the reasoning behind it- hope is all you find and it pierces through your heart like a well-thrown stake. “I would love to, Tara. Simply tell me when and where- I’ll be sure to be there.”

Purring out slightly, her wings fall to her sides in relief as she sits closer to you, nudging at your wrist as the softness of her fur meets your hand like a warm hug. “I will tell the mother in the morning to expect you. Oh, she will be delighted to be finally meeting you- even in such dire circumstances.”

“I look forward to then.” You simply state- a pure smile finding its way across your lips for the first time that night.

“As do I, the house has been empty without Gale stirring a mess of the place.”

You chuckle out in response, the waves joining in with your laughter as they appear higher upon the shores- roaring proudly. Hiking up your robe and grabbing your supplies, the two of you head into your tent for the night- ignoring the raging party that happens outside as you place a noise barrier around the cloth room and conjure a smaller bed for Tara by the fire as sleep finds you both.

╰┈➤ A/N: I hope that you all enjoyed reading this, thinking of making a part 2 to this on how the actual meeting goes, always open to hearing your ideas as well :)

What is Left by the Lakeside Series (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) (pt.5) (pt.6) you are here

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textilesimp · 1 year

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So I’m Having a Charisma Problem

I stumbled into a rabbit hole at 5am today trying to figure out why clerics are wisdom casters (I suppose the other two stats fit.. less well…), which eventually got me to the “yo what the fuck is charisma. Why are we casting with Hotness. Why do paladins and sorcerers cast with how likeable they are” question.

The consensus seems to be that:

Wisdom relates to your clarity of thought, presence of mind, perceptiveness and intuition. (imo it also includes reasoning but I know most people attribute that to intelligence bcuz investigation)

Makes sense for Druids and Rangers, and makes enough sense for Clerics, since at the heart of religion is values and ideals and being able to reconcile seemingly contradictory truths.

Charisma is about your willpower and conviction. Your ability to protagonist your way through a difficult situation because “I have to do this!” Your force of will and confidence (not over-confidence, but trusting and believing in yourself).

That makes a lot of sense for Paladins, and fits pretty well with sorcerers going “how do I do magic? uhhh idk I kinda just… decide to do it and then I do it.” I imagine it works well enough for bards and warlocks in a similar way to sorcerers; “I Just uh I Do It and I Believe In Myself and My Friends?” and “a big creepy magic thing gave me magic powers. How do I use them? Idk I just decide to and then I do.”

Generally, Charisma casting is how we usually imagine magic powers and superpowers manifesting in most works of fiction (i’m gonna do a big blasty blast of magic and i’m gonna have to try really hard, aaaaAAAAAAAHHHHH-)

This version of wisdom v. charisma lines up pretty well with spell saving throws.

This Charisma also makes it way easier to justify Intimidation being a Charisma check. The dissonance occurs when Charisma is understood as likability and charm (“hotness” and ability to give convincing Ted Talks). Which is a very fair interpretation honestly, given that

The most iconic Charisma caster (who you first think of) is probably the Bard, and the Bard’s typecasting of performers and musicians lends itself toward a charming and attractive and eloquent character.

The definition of charisma. Like the word in the dictionary.

While both these versions of charisma have some overlap (self confidence is a very big part of charm and persuasiveness), it kinda gets befuddled a lot? They’re both distinct enough that conviction can’t usually be swapped hand in hand with charm, but it’s also very difficult to separate most of the Charisma skills into just one of those camps.

Persuasion requires both likability and conviction (as well as eloquence/ability to communicate effectively, but Charisma is already confusing enough as it is), and Deception is dependent on both how good of a liar you are and how much the other person wants to trust you.

Performance is similar, AND it also requires a hefty dose of skill and practice. The outlier here is intimidation, which more often than not (in adventuring contexts, anyway) doesn’t really care how likeable you are (though certain contexts certainly do call for it, like emotional manipulation, teenage mean girl shenanigans, etc.).

So, most of these skills require both charm and conviction. But 5e has skill checks depend only on one ability score at a time (for good reason, I don’t want to do that math). The simplest thing seems to be for the DM to just decide if a roll uses conviction or charm on a case by case basis (there is precedent for this in the phb or dmg somewhere where they talk about skill checks).

But now uh.. well shit do we need a 7th stat?

That sounds way too goddamn hard to implement. How else could we represent this difference mechanically? We could make charm another skill you can have proficiency in, but then how do we combine it back with the rest of the conviction skills? And what about the times when conviction is a disservice? An incredibly devout paladin might find it more difficult to persuade an npc on something if the npc finds their conviction and ideals to be idiotic or outlandish?

I don’t have a good answer for this lol. I also think that Bards should be able to cast by being sexy. I think how I’m going to approach for now in my games is to tell my players that Charisma is strictly conviction, and if they can tell me how their character manifests their charm in that conversation, I’ll lower the DC or give them advantage or the npc disadvantage or whatever. For games where I’m not the DM I’ll just ask and probably treat Charisma as charm like normal.

(It would probably be way clearer if Charisma was called willpower or conviction! But we already have a wi- ability, and a con ability. So. Uh. Idk maybe call it force?)

#dnd5e #dnd

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ask-fantasy-sanders-sides · 2 years

Note

Sorry, I know you probably get these a lot but could we recap

(The posts tagged with “#tsrpgau recap” summarize the events of the comic and asks, and lore that has been revealed thus far!)

inter-comic recaps: First / Prev / Next / All.

Contains: (Recap #24) Asks 123.2 (Interlude 3) - 125

~~~

(The Main Story)

While Logan and Virgil are still in the party, you ask them about Roman’s Werebear status; what Virgil called a “guy'ya athiyk.”

Virgil explains that the bear Roman turns into is sort-of the same person, but also a completely different consciousness; a ghost-bear made of Fae magic who is possessing his body. He has the same personality as Roman, but a different brain and different memories...

Essentially, who Roman would be if he was born an animal.

Virgil, as a Ranger, is able to communicate with these Fae animal-ghost-things, hence his ability to talk to Robear! Annie can as well, since she is also a Fae magic-spirit creature. (she’s just the personification of an element, sea water/foam, instead of a beast)

Logan has done some research on the curse, and he has good news and bad news.

Good news: Roman should have some cool new powers! His lycanthropy basically got an upgrade after he killed Jasper, the werewolf who turned him.

Bad news: The “upgrade” also means that Roman’s lycanthropy will be significantly harder to cure. PLUS, if he doesn’t learn to cooperate with it soon, eventually the Bear will take over his body entirely. This will erase his humanoid memories, and Roman will, essentially, die.

Logan and Virgil discuss some plans on how to continue Virgil’s sorcerer training!

Even after Elistraee’s warnings, Logan doesn’t seem keen to let Janus help in their lessons. (01, 02, 03, 04)

Logan doubts that Janus’s personal experience as a Sorcerer will be much help. There is no way to prove he and Virgil are even the same kind of sorcerer, and Janus isn’t trained to teach other people magic, which is a very dangerous field of work. But, he is persuaded to let Janus observe their classes, at least.

Janus seems to have a similar opinion towards Logan, assuming himself to be the most qualified teacher. It does not look like these two are going to get along...

You take a break to talk to the Empress for a moment, worried that something dangerous might be stalking the boys tonight. (01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07)

Virgil had mentioned feeling watched in the ballroom, and you caught Marissa somehow scrying in on him and Roman earlier... Could there be a minion of the Dragon Witch with us tonight?

The Empress thinks its possible, but...

They would have to be a team; one accomplice/minion wearing a Touchstone magic item (like Logan’s earring or Virgil’s insignia) who is in the party tonight, and a magic user as powerful as the Empress or even stronger who is using that magic item as an antenna.

The accomplice would either have to be relatively weak and nonthreatening themselves, or if they were a powerful creature, able to cloak themselves under the radar of another creature of the same type. (Example: A powerful Celestial may be disguised by the presence of Roman and Remus, while a powerful Draconic creature may be disguised by the presence of Janus and Virgil, or a powerful Fae disguised by...well, everyone at this party.)

The accomplice could not be someone faithful to Lolth, or the Empress would have found them already.

We know Marissa is the magic user, but who is her spy?

You warn the Empress to have her army watch the ballroom closely, but that’s all you have deduced thus far...

The third hour is spent with Patton, who is encouraged to meet Remus in the combat ring!

Patton has let his tail loose as part of his costume! (Partially so the locals he meets will stop assuming he’s a human/dwarven teenager.) It seems to be littered with bruises, though you aren’t sure if they are from earlier in the party or from being tied to his leg these past few days....or years?

(Remus looks particularly annoyed when Patton says the bruises were from him “just being clumsy.” But, strangely, he doesn’t push the subject?)

The two front-line-fighters goad each other into a fight, Monk VS Barbarian!

The fight is neck-and-neck for a long time, with Patton doing way more damage, (like four times as much,) but Remus is soaking it up like a sponge with his insane HP.

About 18 seconds into the fight Remus only has a fourth of his HP left, and in response to the pain he flies into a Rage! Magic light bursts out of him like a flashbang, blinding Patton and the drow spectators!! Patton is able to blindly climb up his back and try to choke him out before he escapes the ring and kills someone (or Patton himself,) but he’s not quite strong enough to manage it; both of them have only 2 HP left...

...And then one of the guards recovers from blindness and knocks Remus out with a blow to the head.

The guard, Commander Tsubya, admonishes Remus for blinding everyone in the room and losing control, kicking him out of the ring for tonight. They also congratulate Patton for lasting that long against “Malla A'ni De’anonen's mad dog.” The fight is ruled a tie.

Remus, enraged at the thought of a tie and very excited by Patton’s potential to be an equal challenge for him in combat, demands a rematch!

Patton absolutely refuses.

He also tries to pry into Remus’s rage ability, worried both for Remus and for the people around him, but Remus brushes him off about it.

Both of them have one Exhaustion Point from the fight.

Patton expresses some worries about what the group is meant to do from this point on, if they’re even still a group once they get to the capital... (01, 02)

You get a snippet into Patton’s childhood and adolescence; a montage of him “being clumsy” with his tail.

You get to see Patton’s parents, who are all enamored with Patton’s cheerful and over-excitable nature, even when it leads to him unknowingly knocking things off of tables or spraining his tail from wagging it too hard.

Then you get to see his ex, who seems to be the first to suggest that Patton should tie his unruly tail down...

Patton explains a bit about Halfling’s tails (tail-wagging, connection to mood, etc) and can’t seem to avoid bringing up his ex-fiancée... (01, 02, 03)

The fourth hour is spent with Roman, who finds Patton resting at the bar after his fight!

They talk about lots of things, mostly what their two groups did over the last day/week, the current state of their respective crushes, and their new looks!

They both dote on each other, Roman assuring Patton that he looks very attractive and cool with his tail out and his puffy coat, and Patton insisting that Roman still looks very regal and handsome with his new weight and hair.

Roman decides to tell Patton the truth about he and Virgil’s duo time, even when it comes to the fight he started and the mean things he said. Patton appreciates his honesty, apologizing for holding him to a mean double-standard over his Aasimar secret. Their relationship is greatly improved!

Roman delves into a mental monologue over his confusing experiences of romantic attraction, or partial lack thereof, which he doesn’t seem aware that you heard...

It is revealed that the two of them have discussed their toxic exes (Marissa and Richard) before to some extent.

You get an illustration of Marissa while Roman mentions her in his recap, but....she doesn’t look like the Dragon Witch??

Roman is worried about where he and Virgil stand. Patton reassures him that Virgil is clearly interested, and they’re also able to figure out that Virgil’s stressed about them possibly losing their memories to the Faewild!

Patton also reveals that he still has the purple worm-poisoned knife Virgil gave him, and suspects Logan still has his as well.

Patton mentions his fight with Remus, and Roman is furious. Patton is barely able to calm him down, but despite Patton’s protests Roman continues to speak hatefully about his brother...

The two of them drink as they talk, (Patton drinking much more than Roman,) and both are Tipsy by the end of the hour.

They also haven’t been sticking as strictly to the nickname rule as they should have been...

...And right before their hour is up, Roman senses something dangerous near Annie!

Somehow able to track her location somewhat thanks to their fae-familial bond, Roman heads back to the Ballroom with Patton close behind!

(In Other News…)

Virgil worries about what to do the next time he sees Janus. (01, 02, 03)

Janus, for his part, asks all of you to vote him and Virgil as the next group in the minigame so that he can actually find him.

Logan and Virgil end up talking about the state of Virgil’s surface sickness, and the possible (but temporary) treatment provided by the Colony! (01, 02)

Virgil is half convinced to give it a shot, but he still worries that it will add too much time to their trip, or that he might hurt a Priestess in the process...

You and Virgil ask Logan about dragon hoarding behavior! (01, 02, 03)

You discuss the Elven religious/spiritual belief of Soul Splintering with Virgil and Logan. Logan seems somewhat disdainful of the concept, but Virgil really believes in it, even if some other elves use it cruelly. (01, 02, 03)

Virgil talks about his sisters, who he wasn’t actually related to, but they were all supposed to pretend they were actual siblings. Some of whom he genuinely cares about... (01, 02, 03, 04, 05)

Virgil (and Dragon Witch, and the Empress) elaborate on the “love potion incident” in his backstory, including the boyfriend who Virgil killed that night and one of Virgil’s own powerful nicknames. (01, 02, 03, 04, 05)

You tell Virgil about the NPCs in various rooms of the party that know him. (Brondhar and Illia, 02)

You ask the Empress how long Illia'Jhaerza has been in the colony, and she says she’s only been here for about a month, but she seems as trustworthy as recent-underdark-escapees go. She tells you to keep being wary of her, but that she’s no child of Lolth, either. (01, 02)

You learn more about Remus’s backstory, including the Barbarian tribe that took him in! (01, 02, 03, 04, 05,)

You learn more about Patton’s backstory, including his little siblings and his monastery! (01, 02, 03)

Patton talks about a new friend he made while making his costume, who helped him find clothes sized for Littlefolk. It’s Brondhar, the Dwarven Ranger who is allies with Virgil! (01, 02)

You ask Remus about Celestials; what the categories of them are, where Aasimar fit in, what Domains are, how he and Roman are seen by Sune’s clergy, etc. (01, 02, 03, 04,)

He also talks a bit about Sune, like how she used to visit them as kids, which she apparently hasn’t done since. He doesn’t seem to believe that she’s in any danger; he thinks she’s just ignoring him as much as he’s been ignoring her. (01, 02)

You ask Remus and the Empress about the Curse of Achranoma, aka why someone’s magic manifests in a specific color! (More specifically, why is Roman’s red?) (01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06)

Janus clarifies that his future visions will be less useful going forward, since he can’t predict things that will happen in his general vicinity or his own immediate future.

You also get some snippets into Janus’s backstory, though they are confusing and contradictory...? (01, 02)

The Empress refuses to help the boys avoid the Faewild’s memory loss, as is custom for the Colony.

Roman seems more than a little reluctant to tell Remus about what’s been going on with Sune and her clergy.

Roman is asked about how Remus’s Rages started. (01, 02)

Though he seems interested in the idea, Roman elects not to pursue training as any other class than Paladin as long as he is still an Aasimar. (01, 02, 03, 04, 05)

You ask Remus, the Dragon Witch, and Roman about when Roman and Marissa were dating, and while DW is uncharacteristically avoiding the question, Remus and Roman have a lot to say... and what they say also contradicts earlier claims by DW? (01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06)

Come to think of it, her timeline never made any sense... Has DW been lying about being Marissa???

(Game Mechanics)

You got a chart about who feels what for who! (it seems to have a glitch?)

You learned about Piety Points! (01, 02, 03, 04, 05)

You are able to access the Levels of each Party Member, including their current Statistics and Skills!

Annie seems to have improved since last you checked, having somehow gained a level in Cleric, and you can see the contrast between Virgil’s current skills and his old ones if you squint....

#lets roll #tsrpgau recap #Game Lore #game mechanics #long post #long answer #please tell me if i need to tag anything else!#sofia 👗

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peachsayshi · 3 years

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Chapter 2 - Bare

Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Tags: Friends with Benefits, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Nipple Play, Naked Female/Clothed Male, Foreplay on Kitchen Counter, Dirty Talk

Summary: Gojo is aware that you still aren't comfortable with the boundaries of your new arrangement but when you show up at his apartment wearing a skirt that he absolutely adores on you, the sorcerer finds it hard to resist his urges and does his best to persuade you into using him as much as he enjoys using you.

A/N: ~ in which Gojo is just a plain, old tease ~

- - -

How can such a flimsy piece of fabric incapacitate the great sorcerer?

You showed up tonight wearing a black skirt that Gojo secretly adored on you. He loved the way it cinched around your waist and flared out delicately, cutting off just a few inches above your mid-thigh. He could not understand what it was about the skirt that turned him on so much but every time he saw you in this particular piece of clothing, the man found himself unable to stop his imagination from going. He had a hard time resisting his urges and usually would take care of himself on his own after seeing you. He would picture you on your knees, your skirt bunched up at the waist as he would thrust from behind…

Pay attention, he grumbled to himself.

He didn’t mean to ignore you but you’ve been a complete distraction since you walked through his door. He was trying his best to listen to you talk about your day as you sauntered around his kitchen but was busy staring at your hips swaying from side to side. Thankfully he was wearing his shades so you couldn’t tell that his mind was wandering.

Two weeks had passed since you came over to his place with your proposition but nothing went beyond heated make out sessions. Gojo knew you still weren’t quite used to this little arrangement. Which is why despite the two of you planning on seeing each other to "grab drinks", he would usually let you ramble about whatever was on your mind for thirty minutes before the two of you actually got down to any of the fun stuff.

“ Gojo , are you listening to me? ”

Your question snapped him out of it. He angled his head down towards you, noticing that you were standing right in front of him.

“Of course I was listening!” he replied defensively.

You raised your brows, your face unamused by his response.

“Oh, really? Then what did I just ask you?”

He froze, realizing you caught him in his lie. Raising his arms up in defeat he scoffed before admitting, “okay, I wasn’t listening but it’s not my fault you talk so much.”

“ You are saying that I talk a lot? You ?”

“Yes I am”

“Well, I guess your bad habits are just rubbing off on me.”

“My bad habits?!”

“Seriously, that mouth of yours never stops running. You’re like a broken radio. The volume doesn’t work and no matter how hard you try, you can't switch over to another station to listen to something better,” you teased with a smile.

“Is that right?”

Gojo halted your little bantering session by abruptly reaching for your waist to pull you close to him. He spun you around so your back was pressed against his kitchen island before leaning down and bringing his lips to your ear.

“Is my voice really that annoying?” he whispered. “Because you didn’t seem to think so the other night when I was doing this…”

He sensed the shift in your body language, your heart skipping a beat at his question and the way you tensed up against his frame. He had to admit, he thoroughly enjoyed teasing you, this was different from the casual flirting he was used to because nothing is holding him back from having his way with you now.

He laughed against your ear, “not so chatty now are we?”

Picking you up by your legs, Gojo lifted you onto the countertop with ease.

“No blindfold today?” you asked, finally finding your words as your pretty eyes stared directly into his own while you both faced one another.

“These count,” he replied, referring to his sunglasses.

Gojo’s eyes trailed from your neck to naval until it reached the band of your skirt. His hands were gripping onto your waist, that hungry blue gaze filled with nothing but need. He noticed your stare fixated on his lips but he wasn’t going to give in by kissing you just yet, he wanted to continue figuring you out, surveying all the different places he could touch you just to hear you call out his name.

“Can I take this off?” he asked, his index finger tapping against your top.

You nodded your head politely and he smiled.

This side of you amused him. Despite your reservations, you’ve been quite bold about your needs and he couldn’t help but admire this newfound confidence you had, totally flattered that you were willing to show it off for him.

He tossed your top over his shoulder, his fingers trailing up your spine until it reached for the band of your bra.

“How about this?”

You bit your bottom lip, your hands dancing up his chest until it reached for the collar of his black tee.

“Maybe if you actually paid attention to what I was saying, I might be more willing…” You pushed him away, clearly having fun with him but inhaled when you felt his other hand move up across your stomach to cup your left breast.

“I didn’t invite you over to talk,” he answered calmly. “If that’s the case then we can reschedule this for another time...”

You pursed your lips, tempting him even further for a kiss but he saw that expression on your face that indicated you had no interest in stopping. You tugged at the clasp in front of your chest before telling him, “this is where the hook is.”

The smirk on his face spread into a wolfish grin as he eagerly unfastened your bra. He hummed with pleasure, dropping your undergarments to the side, tilting his head to get proper look at you and noticing the way he tightened against his pants soaking in the image before him.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” he complimented. “Lay down for me...”

You lowered yourself on your forearms against the marble counter watching as Gojo adjusted his stance before hovering his long torso above yours.

“Get comfortable, I don’t plan on rushing anything.”

Your face was a little flushed and you hesitated underneath him, fully aware of him absorbing your half naked state. You allowed yourself to lay flat on your back against the countertop, lifting slightly when the cold surface touched your skin. Gojo planted a kiss on your neck, nipping at it before brushing down your collarbone. You shivered feeling his breath against you, his hands kneading your breasts as he placed another kiss between them. The pads of his thumbs began to rub your nipples, causing them to perk up at his touch. Your mouth parted with a sigh and you closed your eyes, finally allowing your body to relax. He lips replaced his thumb as he enclosed his mouth over your hardened nipple and he flicked his tongue earning a satisfied exhale in response.

Gojo’s senses worked differently as everything for him was heightened on another scale.The scent of your perfume intoxicated him, the sound of your heartbeat racing like music to his ears, the vibrations that ran up his arm every time he touched you was like a trigger to his system and you tasted so sweet . He truly appreciated his power for granting him the ability to experience the moment playing out before him.

“ Satoru…” you moaned, your back arching off the counter as you felt him gently bite your sensitive nub. Your hand reached for his hair, your fingers tangling themselves between his white locks.

He bit down a little harder a second time, alternating between his tongue and teeth and causing you to pant before finally releasing you from his mouth.

“Yes?” he purred, noticing the way your legs spread underneath him.

He guided himself to your mouth, finally satisfying your craving by kissing you softly.

Freeing his hair from your grasp, you trailed your fingers along his jaw as you parted your lips, allowing his tongue to slide into your mouth. Gojo continued roaming his hands along your body, gliding down your side before reaching for your leg. He stroked your inner thigh, caressing your soft skin before making his way up to your core, feeling the heat radiate off of you. He groaned into your mouth while palming your underwear with his hand, suddenly very conscious of just how wet you were for him.

Gojo broke free from your kiss, allowing you both to catch your breath for a second as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“Whatever time you wasted on small talk, I’m going to compensate for by getting you off so many times you’ll have no idea what to do with yourself when I’m through with you...”

You parted your lips to protest but whimpered instead as his fingers began working your wet cunt over the fabric of your underwear. He moved in slow circular motions, a light pressure at first but increasing with intensity as he gradually picked up the pace.

“ Fuck ,” you whined, catching your bottom lip between your teeth.

You were wriggling underneath him, your body rising and falling with every move he made. He returned to playfully suck on your nipples, pleasuring you with ease.

“ Touch me …” you begged, “ Please… ”

Your words were enough to convince him. The man tugged at the cotton fabric you were wearing before motioning his finger over your swollen clit. You were driving his patience with how wet you were getting but he was forcing himself to control his urges.

He dragged his middle finger along your slit before inserting it inside you. Naturally, your hips rolled with his movement and he slowly pulled out before pushing back in again with a little more force.

“ Ohhh , that feels good...”

Gojo couldn’t hide his own enjoyment. This was better than anything he had ever imagined about you. He was about to release years of pent up frustration on you. All those times you two spent alone together where he would draw his attention on your lips or think about what you were wearing underneath your clothes and wonder how well you would take his dick if given the opportunity....

He had a revelation of how much he actually wanted you. His fantasies solely focused around you and regardless of who he was with, you were still the object of his desires.

The one person he was desperate to fuck.

Gojo pushed his finger all the way in, his thumb pressing down on your clit as he rubbed with speed. Your body shivered again, your moans growing louder as you clung onto his sleeve for support, feeling yourself coming undone beneath him. He felt you tense around him, your body contracting before finally releasing as the first wave of pleasure traveled through you.

He pulled his finger out, keeping your legs spread for him as he stood upright and watching you with approval. Your first orgasm illuminated your gorgeous face but he had no intention of giving you a break just yet. He proceeded to hook his fingers around your underwear, prompting you to lift your hips up as he stripped you of the fabric.

“That’s one…” he stated, ensuring you knew he was keeping his word.

He noticed you reach for the zipper of your skirt, ready to strip off the last article of clothing you had on.

He grabbed your wrists, pinning both your hands down by your sides before reaching for his glasses and dragging it down slightly along his nose so you only caught a glimpse of those blue eyes looking at you.

" The skirt stays on, ” he demanded before pushing back his frames and releasing you from his grip.

"As you wish...”

“Now then,” he continued, returning his attention onto your legs. He lifted your skirt higher until he granted himself a full view of your bare pussy. Licking his lips with anticipation, he lowered himself down before looking up at you with a teasing smile. “Let me show you exactly what this mouth of mine can do...”

- CHAPTER 3: CALL -

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