#and also hope I would get some money from it too

[thatonegreyghost]

"You know the hero is traditionally supposed to marry the princess, right?"

Cecilia looks at the knight, easily twice her age and definitely twice as heavy, and tries not to choke in disgust. Lucan, the prince from Corinth, was supposed to come rescue her from the monster- this one was a werewolf, she thinks? She never saw it- but gods forbid Lucan do anything helpful. He's too busy "sparring" with his personal guard, probably.

"Is that a fact, Princess?" The knight gruffs sharply. "Well, that's not going to happen here. You're hardly much older than my daughter. I don't think anyone should want a wife of you."

"I should hope not." Cecilia mutters. "I have no interest in merely being someone's wife."

"As you shouldn't. You're too young." The knight agrees. "Come on, then. My camp is over this way. You can stay in the tent, and we'll head out in the morning."

"And where will you sleep?" Cecilia questions.

Lucan always sleeps in the tent with her. Not next to her, not usually, but always in the tent with her. He'll always complain that it's too cold outside, and he can't possibly be made to stay in the cold. Of course, that's likely because Lucan is a complete wuss.

"I'll sleep by the fire, Princess. It isn't a hardship."

Speaking of, Cecilia thinks, this camp is wonderful. A small tent, soup bubbling over a small fire, and what looks to be the coziest blanket in the kingdom. The knight begins to take off his armor, placing his sword near Cecilia's feet. An act of trust, and honor.

"Oh, you're a much better knight than Lucan."

The knight laughs, shaking his head.

"Lucan? Lucan of Corinth? No wonder you were stuck in that lair for so long. Lucan couldn't fight his way out of a potato sack- just like his mother."

Cecilia might agree, but on principle, she has to defend Lucan. Even if he is a bit of a wet sock.

"Excuse you, sir, how could you say such things?" Cecilia scoffs.

The knight laughs a hearty laugh, shaking his head. His armor clangs as he sets down his breastplate, then, as he stirs the soup, he laughs again.

"Lucan is my son. My former wife, Queen Castella of Corinth, is his mother. She won't give him any money until he marries, so I work to get him out of that castle. Once I've gotten enough to get him some armor, I'll start taking him on jobs. He's not much good at fighting, but he's got a charming smile and he can navigate royals much better than me."

"You're..." Cecilia takes a small step back. "You're Galyn of Corinth. The knight of Corinth. You saved the queen from a dragon!"

"She saved herself. No one would believe her, so she picked up the scrawniest knight she could get her hands on. I worked hard to be a good knight, but I was no dragon killer. Not back then." Sir Galyn laughs. "Imagine our surprise when she was promised to me. I told her I could leave, if she wanted. She told me to stay."

"So... what happened?" Cecilia asks as she sits by the fire. "Everyone says you disappeared. But Lucan always says that his father is his favorite person, and you don't seem dishonorable."

"Well, it's simple. Castella and I outgrew each other. I wanted to mend things. She... didn't think we could."

"So you left?"

Sir Galyn shakes his head, gruffing and groaning as he dishes out soup for the two of them. He glares at nothing in particular, tossing a blanket towards Cecilia with a quiet "don't catch cold, now." and nothing more.

Cecilia eats her soup, quietly wondering about this man in front of her. Lucan has consistently praised him for being the best man he knows. Lucan is also about as smart as a basket of cottage cheese. And does the great Galyn of Corinth really have to stoop so low as to take lowly rescuing jobs? Those are for young knights who would be better suited to palace life- one grand gesture they can coast on for the rest of their lives. Most princesses are lucky- they get a kind man, an honorable knight. But this...

"I didn't leave, Princess. She kicked me out." Sir Galyn reveals. "I couldn't stop fighting nobles for making lewd comments about young servant girls. I couldn't leave it that children were starving and freezing in the streets. She said I wasn't the man she married. I just never became the prince she wanted."

Cecilia eats her soup, not daring to look at Sir Galyn. She is more curious now, especially now that she knows this is Lucan's father.

"Why take Lucan with you? He is Corinth's only heir." Cecilia asks eventually.

"Well, see, Lucan has some specific preferences that Corinth won't tolerate." Sir Galyn mutters. "Were this my home country, it wouldn't be an issue, but his mother is starting to get nasty about it."

"So... You're paying to take him away?"

"It's as you said, Princess. He is Corinth's only heir. His mother will fight to keep him, even at the cost of his life."

Cecilia remembers, quite viscerally and suddenly, how she saw Lucan playing with a knife at a ball last year. He was drunk- most of them were, as the wine was quite strong and the weather was quite cold- but the ease with which he had settled that knife against his throat terrified her. He had spent two hours talking to her, during which time she confessed that she did not ever wish to marry, and would allow her younger brother to take the throne. She even detailed her plans to move to a convent.

A month later, he had begun courting her. At the time, she saw it as a betrayal of her trust. Now, she's not so sure.

"I hope you succeed." Cecilia blurts out. "Lucan can be a bit of an ass on occasion, but he deserves to be happy. Everyone does, I think."

"Aye, Princess, that we do." Sir Galyn says. "Sleep. I'll take you home in the morning."

The princess has been rescued, hooray! But to her dismay the hero isn't young and handsome, instead he's a middle aged divorcee who took the job to pay alimony and child support.

[trainnster]

A Message for our Dearest Friends ✨

[[ Before anything, I do give a TRIGGER WARNING for those who may not want to read about anymore of Nirmal's escapades, and also who may not want to look into discussions of z!on!sm, harrassment of children, and just general nasty ass behavior from Karen Supreme over here. If you do read though, I very much thank you! ]]

So y'know unfortunately I was not added to The List™. Really sad, might just piss and die from it all. HOWEVER, I care about this fandom and I'm always for being petty, so I guess I'll take the bait and send a nice little message to our dearest friend @gordontheengineswifenirmal and her little bestie boo @drackara for trying to fuck with MY friends!! 😁

FIRST OFF, I am not nor will I ever take shit from some bitch who named herself after that fugly ass grey cat from Garfield, so no I am not scared of you and actually I'm SO happy you chose a fandom I happen to be in to try and be a little prick to so I can go into some of the shit you've done!! Like omg thank you SO much for this opportunity, girl! 😊✨

SECOND, you are old enough to be the parent to about 60% of this fandom yet lack the simple maturity basics that even a 5 year old has, so like idk but maybe you should look into going back to school and doing something with your life, since it's obvious you're just rotting in your friend's basement and don't have any sort of diploma or certificate to your name teehee!! 😘

THIRD, going on with how grossly uneducated you are at your crusty dusty ass age, let me remind you that nobody, I mean NOBODY- Actually, here, lemme add the definition so you can get it:

NOBODY [pronoun] / ˈnoʊ.bɑː.di / : not anyone

(SOURCE: Cambridge Dictionary)

Yeah, so that? Yeah, nobody owes you shit over actual families who are going through one of the worst mass humanitarian disasters we've seen in modern history! There's this other thing called "independence", yeah, and THAT means that we ALLL get to choose where our money goes! Isn't that so great? Yeah so that means… People get to choose if they want to monetarily support you!!! 🥳 Isn't that just so lovely?

And y'know, maybe it's just me, but I dunno if people would want to use their independence over their money to send it to a random 42 year old over helping people escape literal genocide. Doesn't sound so great does it? Yeah, maybe it's kinda like people have hearts and understand that genocide is far worse than some random 42 year old who spews z!onist rhetoric, disrespects sex work, and demands monetary gain from literal kids who she not only calls slurs but also actively exposes to NSFW content on her little confessions blog!

Y'know… maybe THAAAT'S why people don't send you money! Yeahhh it's cuz you're a basement-dwelling prehistoric z!onist toad who actively threatens the safety of literal children in online spaces!! I got it figured out!! And y'know, I got you figured all out too, darlin', because I sure as hell know this ain't your first rodeo and this post sure as hell ain't mine!

And y'know I could just keep going on and on, but considering you're probably red in the face and sobbing like the infant-minded subhuman creature you are over lil ol me simply going over just one single little atrocity you've committed on this fandom, I think I'll spare you from holding you to the mirror for ALL that!

Anyways, I do hope this all finds you just SO well, and maybe you can understand just a teensy bit why people y'know… Don't like you! Yeah, so uh hope your holidays go great, hope the new year treats you better than how you've treated ANY of us, and I do hope that poor single braincell gets some friends in the incoming year because he sure is real lonely in that hollow head of your's! Anyways buh-bye hon, hope you have a fantastic day 🥰

[rita-repulsa-ke]

Agatha and Rio read thirst tweets

Finale to this and this

“Hiiii, Agatha.”

“Ugh. Remind me why I agreed to this.”

“I don’t know. Why did you?”

”They offered me a lot of money. I might also have been drunk. Hard to say, really.”

“Mm. It’s still nice to see you.”

“…Can we move these chairs farther apart? No? Too bad, that wasn’t a real question. Now can I get an advil and a bottle of water and we can get this over with?”

“…What? You want me to read this—she’s right there, though. It’s distracting. …Okay, okay, let’s see. I want Rio to pound me until archeologists can’t identify my skeleton. …Are you sure this is about sex at all?”

“Surely you know what hyperbole is, you used to date me.”

“It just seems like a lot. Fine, sure, I can obliterate your skeleton. We’re still not having sex, though.”

“Aw, saving yourself for me? That’s disgusting. My turn, then. I would let Agatha—Rio, stop growling. And put the knife away.”

“Ags, I want you to kill them.”

“Yeah, not doing that, that’s something I only do for people I like. I might be really mean to them, though.”

“…How mean?”

“Let me finish reading first. I would let Agatha Harkness spit in my open mouth. …Gross. Next.”

“Not mean enough.”

“Trust me, someone like that, being mean is only going to make them hornier.”

“…Hmm. I bet stabbing wouldn’t. What’s this one—I just want to watch Rio put Agatha over her knee and—“

“Okay, okay, that’s enough of that.”

“Shy, beloved? I remember you used like that sort of thi—“

“Moving on. Uh—I want to take Agatha out to a beautiful candlelit dinner and stare chastely at her from across the table. Finally, a legitimate freak! That’s incredibly messed up and I hope you find the help you need.”

“…You’re funny.”

“You know it.”

“And gorgeous and intelligent and frustrating and—“

“Hey, Rio, focus. …And stop getting closer.”

“I am very, very focused on what I want.”

“…You know what? I can’t do this. Not with her. Keep the money, I’m out.”

“Agatha, wai—ah, a spell. That was clever. …It was still nice to see her. I can’t believe you got her to agree to this in the first pla—wait, what??? What did you say? Say it again. …What do you mean, it was her idea??”

masterpost or click this link to go to a random post on this blog, which will probably be a fic of some kind

[joannerowling]

do you think they'll ever go for another HP spinoff? Both Cursed Child and Fantastic Beasts received poor or mixed reviews at best and were not that popular (I don't think anyone has ever referenced them IRL in my experience) so I doubt they'll be trying another spinoff anytime soon. Perhaps after the HP show is over in a decade? I really hope not lol, I found both CC and FB incredibly uninteresting and basic (Ezra Miller and Johnny Depp really turned me off too lol) and I figure any other spin off would be just as disappointing.

I also think the terminally online fans going "No one wants this! we want a spinoff about the founders or marauders!" are so incredibly out of touch. the HP show everyone will watch, however no one would care about either of those except super duper HP fans. If I said "marauders" IRL I highly doubt anyone would even know what I'm referencing. Also why on earth would they take a gamble on a new show after CC and FB flopped? and these terminally online JKR haters complaining about the show and screaming for a Jegulus spinoff instead also hated and complained about CC and FB for the most part? it's such a bizarre reaction that is based exclusively in 'I hate jkr and want to complain' instead of any actual desires on their part IMO

Will there ever be another HP spinoff?

Short answer: probably not.

Long answer: they can only greenlight a project with JKR's approval, so it really all depends on her. She's clearly not interested in writing more original Potter books right now, but she's ok letting others play with the IP in various media and/or commercial forms (except novels; duh, she's not stupid), so long as her specific wishes on some topics are met. So far, pretty successfully:

Theatre : Cursed Child, while hated by a vocal minority of (essentially book) fans, is a commercial and critical hit, winning several awards and touring in multiple countries while playing non-stop on the West End.

Video Games : Obviously a quite successful format, from the popular smartphone mini-games to Hogwarts Legacy. Nobody cared that much about HL's story, its success came down to the fun of actually getting to explore Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, etc.

Park theme(s) : Very successful and not to be underestimated creativity-wise, between decors, costumes, ancilliary products, etc. Again, the appeal is immersion and exploration rather than rides.

Supplementary non-fiction material : The "Hogwarts Library" supplementary books deepening the universe's lore have always been hits, hence WB using them as a base to develop FB.

Fantastic Beasts movie series (and the whole "wizarding world" brand) : The big disappointment. It didn't start so bad, the first was a success and well received. The second was too complicated and lost the GP, but still made money; and the third was better received but not well enough to save it. Still, even Secrets was more of a flop than a bomb (it made back its Covid-inflated budget twice after all, not enough to make a profit but better than nothing).

At some point, if i'm a WB exec and i'm a little smart, i start to notice patterns:

Normie fans and GA don't want new "wizarding world" stories: they want an immersive experience. Movies are a bad format for that. You just can't cram too much stuff in a movie without shit becoming real expensive real fast.

Book fans hate everything new in general, even with Jo's involvement it's getting touchy after FB and CC. (I'm sure an original novel would work but even that's risky and she's not interested anyways.)

On the other hand, book fans also famously disliked the movies, so a new, more faithful adaptation might interest them. Normie fans and GA too: they already know the story, so it's accessible, and parents would love sharing it with their kids.

Sales show that people in general are definitely still massively attached to Harry Potter, so it's worth investing.

TV adaptations of books following disappointing movies have been pretty successful recently: BBC/HBO's HDM, Netflix's Series of Unfortunate Events, etc.

TV's not a bad format for immersive story-telling. Not the best, but you have more screen time and it's usually cheaper to produce than films and more character driven, meaning more opportunities to add details and play with them. Enough "new" elements to stand apart from the movies and excite fans, but no risk of messing with canon.

For WB, a remake is a great middle ground to work with JKR in spite of her controversies: she's involved, but not too involved, because the story isn't a new one. It's not like she's writing an original script for them, she's just consulting to make sure they're not messing up. And for Jo? Also greatly convenient! She gets to make money with minimal work. She's a very busy woman you see, and she's got expenses (those rape crisis centers aren't paying for themselves).

Conclusion : Spin-offs = bad, expensive ideas almost bound to fail, unless they were adaptations of a new, critically acclaimed original novel by JKR, which will not happen any time soon. Remake = safer, actually something people want to see (or could be persuaded to watch if initially unconvinced, for the hardcore movie fans). Movies are (kinda) out, shows are (still) in. Carpe Diem, etc.

Will there specifically ever be a Marauders spinoff?

With the disclaimer that i'm not JKR so i can't actually know that but: no. Never. Not even a remote possibility, won't ever happen in a thousand years.

[dephoraowo]

I feel like some people in the fandom need to go read a dictionary because where on earth does the novel even show Wei Wuxian having a hero complex?

The novel literally shows the opposite:

The suction from within Biling Lake was growing progressively more powerful. While Wei Wuxian’s sword excelled in dexterity and agility, a lack of strength just happened to be its weakness, and it was forcefully pulled to lower and lower altitudes until it was close to the surface of the lake.

Wei Wuxian steadied himself while yanking on Su She with both hands, shouting, “Somebody come help! If I can’t get him up, I’m gonna have to let go!”

And this:

“Stand back,” Lan Wangji said. “You are not needed here.”

Wei Wuxian humbly took his advice and backed off. He backed all the way to the entrance and took a peek outside. Wen Ning was in the middle of stoically strangling Song Lan, lifting the man by his neck and slamming him into the wall, creating a giant man-shaped hole in the process. Song Lan, also expressionless, seized Wen Ning’s wrist and flipped him over, crashing him into the ground. Loud, incessant bangs and booms accompanied the battle between the two stone-faced fierce corpses. Neither side could feel pain, nor were they afraid of injuries. Unless they were cut to pieces, they could keep fighting no matter how many limbs they broke.

“There doesn’t seem to be a need for me here either,” Wei Wuxian mumbled to himself.

If the fandom is so desperate for a guy with a hero complex, they don't even need to worry. We already do! In fact, mxtx was so generous, she literally gave us two!

Wei Wuxian was observing the terrain as he fled around, setting off flames. Suddenly, a sharp pain stabbed through his arm. He looked down to see he had been shot by an arrow.

As it turned out, the Lan sect disciple whom Lan Wangji had glared at earlier had found a bow and arrow abandoned by the Wens and tried to shoot at the yao beast. Perhaps because of the beast’s fearsome savagery and agility, the boy’s hands were panicked and unsteady, and the shot had flown astray and pierced Wei Wuxian instead.

Wei Wuxian had no time to pull it out. He struck the ground again, calling forth another surge of flames.

“Back off! Don’t make more work for me!”

The sect disciple had wanted to fell the yao beast with a single shot to its vital spot, in hopes of regaining some of the face he’d lost earlier. Who could’ve thought it would turn out like this? His face flushed progressively paler as he fled into the water.

Let's not forget this scene:

Before walking away, Wei Wuxian repeatedly exhorted him to sit still and not to move. At least they weren’t too short of money—he had a habit of hiding small change in various corners of his clothes, which came in handy now. He walked around and bought food and dry rations to prepare for the long journey ahead. It took him less than an incense time to grab everything, after which he immediately returned to the spot where they’d separated.

But Jiang Cheng was gone.

...

Jiang Cheng struck a palm at him. The strike was so weak and feeble that Wei Wuxian did not even sway.

“Hit me all you want. As long as it makes you feel better.”

“Did you feel it?” Jiang Cheng asked.

Wei Wuxian was momentarily taken aback. “What? Feel what?”

“My spiritual power. Did you feel it?” Jiang Cheng pressed him.

“What spiritual power?” Wei Wuxian asked. “You didn’t use spiritual power at all.”

“I did.”

“What exactly… What did you say?”

Jiang Cheng repeated himself word for word. “I said, I used it. I used all my spiritual power and then some for that strike. So I’m asking you—did you feel it?”

Wei Wuxian stared at him, falling quiet. After a moment, he said, “Try hitting me again.”

“Forget it,” Jiang Cheng told him. “No matter how many times I hit you, the result will be the same. Wei Wuxian, do you know why Core-Melting Hand is called that?”

Wei Wuxian’s heart sank.

“Because his hands can dissolve golden cores and render the victims unable to form new ones,” Jiang Cheng continued. “Their spiritual power will dissipate, reducing them to nothing more than ordinary humans. And an ordinary human in a cultivation clan is good for nothing. They can only live out the rest of their common lives, abandoning all dreams of ever ascending higher.

“Wen Zhuliu dissolved Mom and Father’s golden cores. Once they lost the ability to fight back, he killed them.”

Wei Wuxian’s mind was in turmoil. At a loss as to what to do, he murmured, “…Core-Melting Hand… Core-Melting Hand…”

Jiang Cheng laughed grimly. “Wen Zhuliu, Wen Zhuliu. I want to seek revenge. I have to. But how can I? I don’t even have a golden core anymore, and I’ll never be able to form a new one again. So how am I going to take revenge? Ha ha ha ha ha ha, ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha…”

Wei Wuxian’s legs gave out from under him. He stared at Jiang Cheng, who seemed to have gone insane. Words failed him.

No one knew better than him just how competitive Jiang Cheng was. How much he valued his own cultivation and spiritual power. And with a single strike, Core-Melting Hand had shattered his cultivation, self-esteem, and hope for revenge to smithereens!

Jiang Cheng howled with laughter like a madman. He lay back down on the bed with his arms spread open and abandoned himself to despair. “Wei Wuxian, why did you save me? What’s the point of saving me? To let me live on uselessly while I watch the Wen dogs run rampant?”

...

Though awake, he remained motionless, not even flipping over and asking where they were. He wouldn’t eat or drink. It was as if he was interested only in dying.

“Do you really want to die?” Wei Wuxian asked.

“I can’t get revenge even if I live, so I might as well die. Who knows, maybe I can even turn into a malicious ghost,” Jiang Cheng said.

“You’ve gone through Soul-Tranquilization Rites since you were a kid. Even if you die, you won’t turn into a malicious ghost,” Wei Wuxian commented.

“Since I can’t seek revenge dead or alive, what difference does it make if I live or die?”

After that, Jiang Cheng didn’t speak again.

...

Jiang Cheng’s mind and face were both racked with confusion. “Then why was I able to pull it out?”

“Because the sword recognizes you as Wei-gongzi,” Wen Ning answered.

Lan Wangji stood up, lifting an unconscious Wei Wuxian on his back.

“What do you mean, it recognizes me as Wei Wuxian?” Jiang Cheng snapped. “How?! Why me?!”

“Because the golden core presently channeling spiritual power in your body is his!” Wen Ning snapped back, even harsher.

...

“Your golden core was never restored,” Wen Ning said. “It was completely dissolved by Wen Zhuliu! The reason you thought it was restored was because my jiejie, Wen Qing—the best doctor of the Wen Clan of Qishan—cut Wei-gongzi’s golden core from his body and used it to replace yours!”

Jiang Cheng’s face went blank for a second. “Replaced mine with his?”

“That’s right!” Wen Ning said. “Why do you think he never used Suibian again, and never carried his sword with him when he went out? Was it really because of some youthful indiscretion? Did he really enjoy it when others spoke ill of him behind his back or to his face, saying he was rude and had a poor upbringing? It was because bringing it along would be pointless! You see…if he brought his sword along when he was invited to those banquets and Night Hunts, there would inevitably be someone wanting to duel or spar with him for whatever reason. Without his golden core, he had no spiritual power. If he drew his sword, he wouldn’t last long at all…”

Jiang Cheng stood dumbly rooted to the spot. He looked queasy, and his lips quivered. He even forgot to use Zidian as he suddenly dropped Suibian to the ground and struck Wen Ning on the chest with his hand.

“You’re lying!” he bellowed.Wen Ning was forced a couple steps back from the blow. He picked up Suibian from the ground, sheathed it, and pushed it against Jiang Cheng’s chest.

“Take it!”

Jiang Cheng unconsciously took the sword. He didn’t move but looked at a loss as his gaze turned toward Wei Wuxian. He would have been fine if he hadn’t looked. But when he did, Wei Wuxian’s despondent expression and ghastly pale face—with blood still gathered at the corners of his mouth—was like a hammer smashing his heart. Moreover, Lan Wangji’s gaze chilled him so keenly he felt like he had plunged into a frozen cavern.

“Take that sword and go to the banquet hall, the drilling grounds, anywhere,” Wen Ning said. “Order everyone you come across to pull it from its sheath and see if anyone can! Then you’ll see if I’m lying! Sect Leader Jiang, you…you are such a competitive person. All your life, you have been competing with and comparing yourself to others. But know this—you could never have compared to him!”

...

Out of the blue, Lan Wangji asked, “Is it painful?”

“What?” Wen Ning said.

“Extracting one’s core. Is it painful?”

“Lan-gongzi. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you no, would you?”

“I assumed Wen Qing would have found a way.”

“Before going up the mountain, my jiejie prepared many anesthetics in hopes of alleviating the pain of extracting his core. But later, she realized such medication would be completely useless. If the subject is in a numbed state when the golden core is extracted from the body, it affects the core’s stability. It becomes harder to prevent it from dissipating.”

“…Therefore?” Lan Wangji probed.

Wen Ning pausing in his rowing. “Therefore, the subject of the golden core extraction procedure has to be completely conscious for its full duration.”

He had to be conscious as he watched his golden core be cut from his meridians and extracted from his body. He had to feel his surging spiritual energy gradually subsiding, calming, turning ordinary—until it became a pool of stagnant water that could no longer make waves.

It was a long time before Lan Wangji found his voice again. It was a little raspy, and the words he spoke seemed to tremble. “Its full duration?”

“For one day and two nights,” Wen Ning said. “He remained conscious throughout.”

“At the time, how confident were you of success?”

“About fifty percent.”

“Fifty percent.” Lan Wangji soundlessly drew a deep breath and shook his head. He repeated, “…Fifty percent.”

His hand tightened its hold on Wei Wuxian’s waist, gripping so hard his knuckles turned white.

“After all, no one had ever conducted any sort of core-swapping procedure before,” Wen Ning said. “My jiejie had written essays on the subject, but they were only theoretical. No one would ever let her experiment on them, so the theories remained untested. The sect’s seniors said she was indulging in flights of fancy, that the idea was completely impractical. They knew no one would ever be willing to extract their golden core and give it to someone else—because if they did, they would be fundamentally crippled. They would never reach the pinnacle of their ability but would remain mediocre the rest of their life.

“So when Wei-gongzi returned to seek us out, my jiejie was reluctant to even attempt the procedure, at first. She warned him that writing an essay was one thing, but actually doing it was quite another. She wasn’t even confident she’d have a fifty percent chance of success.

“But Wei-gongzi kept pestering her. He said fifty percent was fine; the chances of success and failure were equal. Even if it didn’t work out and his core was wasted, he wasn’t worried about his future—but that wasn’t the case for Sect Leader Jiang. He was too competitive, too focused on what he stood to gain and lose in this aspect, since cultivation was his life. And if Sect Leader Jiang could only ever be an ordinary, mediocre person, his life would be over.”

Definition of hero complex:

A hero complex, also known as a saviour complex or hero syndrome, is a psychological phenomenon where a person seeks recognition for being a hero. Hero complexes can be detrimental to the lives of others and put innocent people at risk.

A person with a hero complex may:

- Create situations where they can be the hero and resolve them

- Take responsibility for problems that aren't theirs to solve

- Offer unsolicited advice

- Overstep boundaries

- Strive to be the ones to save the day, no matter the odds or situation

In the examples above, we can clearly see that Wei Wuxian knows his own limits. If there is something he can do to help, he will help. HOWEVER! He will not help if he knows that it isn't within his own capabilities because there's a chance that, if he fails, he might ruin the situation further and make things worse than it is! And I know people will be using this as a refute, so I will also say it here. Wei Wuxian will not make risky decisions UNLESS THERE IS NO OTHER CHOICE! None of the novel's textual evidence mentions any kind of instances in which he acts "recklessly" with his own life in a situation where any other action other than risking his life would have achieved the same or better results. If there are safer options, he will not make such decisions.

This is the direct opposite of Su She and Jiang Cheng. Su She was clearly trying to save face by killing the Xuanwu of Slaughter, "playing the hero," but he failed, either due to lack of skill or just not in the right headspace, and made things worse.

In Jiang Cheng’s case, I honestly don't know why he distracted the guards. Did he do it out of love, or was he just trying to "play the hero?" I say this because the novel didn't even say that the guards spotted Wei Wuxian. It just says they were patrolling around the area. If he did it out of care for Wei Wuxian, why didn't he take responsibility? If he really did try to save Wei Wuxian from the guards, why was Jiang Cheng not willing to live with the consequences? Did he not expect to be captured by them? He overestimated himself if that's the case. And he made things worse for Wei Wuxian because after that stunt of his, he just wanted to die. Not only that, he literally made his own sacrifice into Wei Wuxian's problem. And how could Wei Wuxian, who had just promised Jiang Cheng's parents to take care of him, let him die like this? So Wei Wuxian was forced to give up his core to give Jiang Cheng a reason to live. (Honestly, Jiang Cheng could still live as a normal person. He could still lead the clan as a normal person since a clan follows bloodline. Doesn't matter if he is competent or not, core or no. We literally have Jin Guangshan leading the Jins for goodness sake, does that man even know how to fight? Jiang Cheng just can't stand being an average dude, which is so ironic because in Wei Wuxian's second life, he literally became an average dude, even with a core. Man couldn't even defeat Jin Guangyao.)

[anim-ttrpgs]

hi

i'm not going to get into it in your inbox but i've been dealing with some worsening chronic pain this year and the way eureka goes about this stuff (both grievous wounds/literally and monsters/metaphorically) is nice to read. thanks

all the snoops are sooooo cute. i was going to try and name a favorite here but i genuinely can't i love them all. what delightful little creatures

Thank you! Chronic pain is one of the things that I myself suffer from too, since (topically) my medical insurance refused to cover any treatment besides some X-rays and two chiropracty sessions after I got hit by a car going about 60mph. I’m very lucky that I can still walk and even do some martial arts when what’s left of my upper back allows.

One of the reasons that the Grievous Wound mechanic in Eureka is the way it is is because I wanted to represent how humans are both very fragile and very resilient. An injury much less severe than what i went through can make a person’s body never quite as strong/fast/coordinated as it used to be, but also most things in life do not necessitate a person to be at the very peak of their physical potential, not even investigating mysteries.

Also thank you about the snoops! There are some I like more than others, but I really can’t pick a favorite either.

Elegantly designed and thoroughly playtested, Eureka represents the culmination of three years of near-daily work from our team, as well as a lot of our own money. If you’re just now reading this and learning about Eureka for the first time, you missed the crowdfunding window unfortunately, but you can still check out the public beta on itch.io to learn more about what Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy actually is, as that is where we have all the fancy art assets, the animated trailer, links to video reviews by podcasts and youtubers, etc.!

You can also follow updates on our Kickstarter page where we post regular updates on the status of our progress finishing the game and getting it ready for final release.

Beta Copies through the Patreon

If you want more, you can download regularly updated playable beta versions of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy earlier, plus extra content such as adventure modules by subscribing to our Patreon at the $5 tier or higher. Subscribing to our patreon also grants you access to our patreon discord server where you can talk to us directly and offer valuable feedback on our progress and projects.

The A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club

If you would like to meet the A.N.I.M. team and even have a chance to play Eureka with us, you can join the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club discord server. It’s also just a great place to talk and discuss TTRPGs, so there is no schedule obligation, but the main purpose of it is to nominate, vote on, then read, discuss, and play different indie TTRPGs. We put playgroups together based on scheduling compatibility, so it’s all extremely flexible. This is a free discord server, separate from our patreon exclusive one. https://discord.gg/7jdP8FBPes

Other Stuff

We also have a ko-fi and merchandise if you just wanna give us more money for any reason.

We hope to see you there, and that you will help our dreams come true and launch our careers as indie TTRPG developers with a bang by getting us to our base goal and blowing those stretch goals out of the water, and fight back against WotC's monopoly on the entire hobby. Wish us luck.

[v0iddarl1ng]

My takes on HB "Sinmas"

May be spoilers ahead. Its just my opinion and I'm not very good with words,so please without negativity

- Stella is right in someway for not letting Octavia talk to her father, Stolass is a bad influence for her.

- I wanted to see other sins and other characters celebrating the Sinmas, but it's just progression on Stolitz drama

- The "Be nice to him, he's gay" and Stolas as horse doodle on the whiteboard sounds like it tries to justify his actions. Like I'm not homophobic but it's just weird

- Stolas's "I'M POOR NOW" is SOOO surprising (sarcasm). He's such a baby man, he can't even enjoy the bare minimum from his new life, even the breakfast his "Blitzy" cooked just for him.

- That new Karen sinner design is pretty neat

- Also I asked this question only now but: how newcomer sinners got money to hire IMP? I won't believe if it's like in a video game where they have some money for start.

- Octavia's song is very cool! I liked the visuals (The lyric "And when you're gone I will be okay" is so true)

- As I understand, Via was signing in her closet then there's a question... Why there's Stolas's pills? Why he's hiding them in HER stuff?

- For some reason, I felt happy when Stolas beat Andre's in the face.

- Battle scene was interesting to look at( Music is sick)

- Blitzø's "GET YOUR ICE HANDS OFF MY BOTTOM,BITCH" sounded very unnecessary, I thought his and Stolas's relationship is not about s¢x anymore.

- Loona's full form looks weird and out of place( And moments when Blitz and Moxie were sitting on Loona like a horse was much weirder)

- That twist that Millie is pregnant was the only thing that shocked me(I already want to see how M&M child would look)

- Via had all rights to snap at Stolas. She saw her dad sacrificing himself for an imp, who made their family bursting. Maybe she was too emotional(Because she's a teen,I can understand this), and she didn't wanted to hear her father's explanations

- "I've caused all of this" FINALLY HE GIT IT

IN TOTAL: Episode was well...6/10. Might be better. The thing I liked the most is music. I hope 3rd season will be better

[rosicheeks]

—

[atopvisenyashill]

do love how this is an asoiaf blog but i did not put either show in my top 10 this is the world we live in

[icewindandboringhorror]

Hrmm... Revising my game and I feel like there's still sooo much writing left to do, for something that probably won't even amount to much, so.. I do want to narrow my focus more (especially given my health problems seeming to get worse/less energy the past few years), but I'm not sure how would be best to...

I currently have 5 characters as the Main ones with full planned questlines and such, with each character having 6 quests you can do for them. But I haven't really started the writing for the 5th main character. So then I was thinking, if I were going to write 6 full quests worth of content anyway... is it better to allocate that time on just doing a Complete 6 Quests for ONE single character, OR would it be better to do something like.. choose THREE side characters and do 2 quests for each of them? So that people have a wider variety to interact with and sort of sample around (of course with the idea that, once the first version of the game is released, IF people actually care about it enough to make it worth the effort, I would then add additional content to complete those 3 characters stories as well)

-

SO... If you were playing an interactive fiction sort of game centered around talking to & doing quests for a cast of characters (like there's no larger plot, more it's just about interacting with people, every character kind of has a self contained story, the focus is just learning about them and the world and exploring the area) --- Which would you rather have?

(and of course it would be stated up front which characters have only partial questlines, so people don't expect them to have full quests like the others and then get disappointed, or etc. etc.)

Basically, is it better to just focus in specifically on having one fully complete questline? Or for there to be a few stories that are not complete yet, but have more initial options available?

[musubiki]

how was playing hsr? was there anything that you liked in the game and the story?

ITS BEEN AMAZING AS EXPECTED!!!!!!!!! i actually havent played genshin in a while since starting it, i have no motivation to do the filler event while a perfectly good star rail is sitting there waiting to be played :')

but for mechanics, i love they have auto battle so you dont have to nessecarily sit there and invest in every little battle you gotta do....and i love that the resin (resin??) system is a lot more forgiving with a higher cap, lower cost, and allow for overflow...thats nice...i also love that the mc and starter units are very useful. im so emotionally attatched to the star rail crew so im glad they never have to leave my team !!!!

storywise im LOVING IT SO FAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i started playing it at the beginning of spring break 2 weeks ago and im almost all caught up!!! i went through belabog and penacony and now im just doing those leftover intermission main quests which im only now realizing i shouldve done before going to penacony LMAO

and of course.....danmarch....im so soft for them......and also i love sampo i cant wait to see what they do with him

[hauntingblue]

Jaya time

I love these moments of nearly cosmic horror when they encounter inexplicable things (at first) they are so intriguing

Is strawhat here?! *Megan thee stallion saying AAH 😜*

This cover just goes hard... Get it chopper

[tariah23]

The job is gonna be so laborious I already know it hhhh

[jheselbraum]

[gojorgeous]

"creature of myth."

pairing: vampire!gojo x fem!human!reader summary: when you receive an offer of marriage from a mysterious wealthy lord, it’s too good a deal for your family to turn down. but nothing could be so perfect... right? content: MDNI (18+  ONLY), dark content, nsfw, gets dubcon/noncon in some spots, yandere behavior from gojo, implied death/k*lling of a character (not reader or gojo), arranged marriage, victorian au, plot that ends with porn lmao, spooky dooky vibes, blood, blood sucking/eating, praise, biting, unprotected sex, creampie, virgin!reader, discussion of virginity, cherry popping, pain, pet names (princess/love), reader is highkey clueless about sex, discussion of masturbation, ideas of masturbation as “sinful”, very minor religious themes, fated “mates”, gojo is highkey insane, coercion and manipulation, like SO much neck kissing, ooc gojo??? (had to alter his character to match a victorian vampire lord LMAO). a/n: PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS. THERE IS DARK CONTENT AHEAD. is this a gojo fic or a twilight fic?? Going back to my roots fr fr. straight down to the “SAY IT, SAY IT”. this fic is also way too long my apologies bbs. i hope you like a hefty side of plot with your porn. parts of this fic feel way too cheesy to me but sometimes i eat that up, yk?? this fic was inspired by this amazing work by @rice5x ! and, finally, thank you all for the support on my most recent fics. i'm just getting back into being active on this blog and it's been amazing reading each and every comment/reblog/ask. they genuinely fill me with so much joy. keep them coming hehe. anyway, i hope you enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED. credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. banner art by @ndsoda on twitter. wc: 11.6k (sowwy)

You remember perfectly the way your mother’s jaw dropped when Satoru Gojo proposed to you. You’d never seen the man, and you still hadn’t. He’d asked to marry you via messenger, a simple letter delivered by hand with a list of all the things he’d be willing to pay for your hand. Offers of money, land, protection, connection- anything so long as he got you. You’d thought it was a joke. Your father nearly took a shovel to the head of the poor messenger, thinking the letter was some kind of cruel prank, some sort of targeted disrespect. You’d only started to believe when you really looked- saw the Gojo crest embroidered on the man’s suit, the fine leather of his boots. If it was a prank, somebody had spent a great deal of money and effort to pull it off. 

You’d asked for proof nonetheless, and you’d gotten it. Documents signed and sealed with a well-known waxen crest, gifts that could only have been purchased by a wealthy lord. The one thing you never got was the lord himself. He refused to see you, to come down from his mysterious castle on the hill. It didn’t surprise you. He rarely deemed town worthy of his presence. He had a reputation as a recluse, as a man who only ever liked to see and never be seen. What little glimpses people got of him were usually through the dark window of his carriage. Still, his appearance preceded him. White hair, light eyes… “haunting” said those who had the luck to see him. Those who went to work for the lord tended to return… changed— if they returned at all. 

You accepted, of course. How could you not? You were a peasant family with no status or wealth to your name. The promises Lord Gojo had made would make your parents into aristocrats all on their own. But that left you wondering… why did he want you? You offered him no benefit. If anything, you sullied his bloodline. The question scratched at the back of your mind. It came to you while you ate breakfast, while you washed your clothes, while you weeded in the garden. Some part of you told you that you needed the answer before you ever stepped foot in that castle. You needed that answer, but you’d never get it. 

Your wedding wasn’t even a wedding- just a piece of paper that had already been signed and witnessed, once again delivered by a familiar messenger. You signed at your dining room table and… that was that. You were married. 

Later that night the carriages arrive. Men flood your home, all dressed in blue velvet, the Gojo crest embroidered on their chests. They seem puzzled when you tell them you’ve packed all your belongings into a measly three bags. 

You say a quick goodbye to your parents, drawing them into stiff embraces. You love them, and they love you, but you can’t bear to see their faces as they send you away to a man who couldn’t even show his face for your wedding. 

The carriage ride is somehow longer than you’d thought it would be- apparently, the castle’s size makes it seem deceptively close. The trip is rocky and twisty and altogether unpleasant as you steadily make your way toward the castle gates. By the time you reach them you think you’ve probably dozed in and out of consciousness at least half a dozen times. 

The castle is even more intimidating up close. Spires that swirl into the clouds, sculptures that stare, doors that look more suited to being locked than opened. It’s… terrifying. 

When you finally roll to a stop, you move for the door. When you swing it open you get your fair share of strange looks from your attendants and remember that you should have waited for the footman. Your face heats as you climb out anyway, unwilling to subject yourself to the further humiliation of waiting for assistance. 

Your feet hit gravel and all you can do is stare- up, up, up, to where the castle’s peaks disappear into the fog. When your eye flashes to a window on the east side of the manor you think you see a swaying curtain. You tuck your arms around yourself and shiver, but it’s not from the cold. 

You nearly stumble over your feet on your first step inside. The entrance hall is larger than your former house, with ceilings that stretch so high you can hardly make out the figures on the frescoes that adorn it. Silver and blue drape everywhere, the Gojo family colors. You swallow when you see a chair that is most definitely worth more than your family’s annual income. 

The floors are marble and when your worn heels clack against it, you only feel reminded that you don’t belong here. That question pricks in your mind again as you pass portraits of every Gojo heir to have lived in the last three hundred years. Why me? Why me? Why me? 

Your footman deposits you in your room, a place more lavish than you’ve ever seen. You have a four poster bed with a canopy of blue velvet, a window that overlooks a sprawling estate, and more square footage than you’ve ever dreamed of. 

“Pull this if you need any sort of assistance, ma’am.” 

You turn to see your footman referencing a silver cord at your bedside. You assume it’s one of those contraptions that rings a bell in the servants’ quarters. You try to hide your amazement- you’ve never seen one in real life before. 

You clear your throat and give your most ladylike nod. “Thank you, um-” you pause, your brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I asked your name.” 

Your footman appears stunned to silence, like he’d never expected you to care about his existence, much less his name. He recovers quickly, though, and forces a small smile. “Thomas, ma’am.”

You smile and it’s genuine. “Thank you, Thomas.”He bows and makes a beeline for the door, but you have one more question. “Oh, um, Thomas-” He freezes, turning slowly on his heel to face you. 

“Yes, my lady?” 

You cringe at the title. The sound of it creeps across your skin, foreign and… wrong. Why me? Why me? Why me?

You clear your throat again. “Do you know, um, well-” You shift, trying to word your question properly. “Do you know when I might see the Lord?” 

There is a pause, a moment of tension and silence, and then an answer. “No, my lady.”

Thomas does not stick around for more questioning. The door clicks shut behind him and then you're left with only the sound of retreating footsteps. 

You’re stunned to say the least, mouth still halfway open, more questions on the tip of your tongue. Should you seek him out? Was that proper? Would he come to you? Would he meet you for dinner, perhaps? Surely he would come to your room tonight to… consummate. Would that be the first time you lay eyes on him? When he’s over you? 

You sigh. There’s nothing much to be done about it now. You find your way to the bed and sit down hesitantly. It feels like a crime to rumple such primped and polished cotton. You do it anyway- it’s going to happen sometime, right? You fall back against the mattress and don’t fail to notice how utterly comfortable it is. The silvery patterns on your canopy swirl and bend together. You’re tired. You didn’t sleep much last night, anxious for the morning… and it’s only mid-afternoon now. You had time for a nap, right? Your eyes are closing before you can convince yourself it’s a bad idea and then you’re swept away into a world of warm darkness. 

You wake with a start. Your first thought is that it’s dark now. Your room is pitch black except for the stream of moonlight passing through your stupidly large window. Your mouth feels dry and your skin is cold, like you’ve just woken from a nightmare. If you have, you don’t remember it. Perhaps that’s a blessing. 

You sit up, combing a finger through your hair and laughing pitifully when you realize that you left your shoes on as you slept. You hope Thomas didn’t walk in to find you in yet another unladylike position. A glance at the foot of the bed reveals he might have. Your bags have arrived- all three of them. You eye them with a combination of longing and contempt. They don't match this place. They’re worn and used- everything here is shiny and new. Still, they’re all you have, and all you have left of your life before. All you have left of home. 

You stretch your arms above your head, nearly groaning at the burn in your muscles. The carriage ride did your body no favors and you suspect you’ll be sore for many days to come. 

You rise, no longer content to lie in bed. You’ve had your rest and, from the state of darkness outside, you suspect your new husband might be joining you soon. The thought twists a certain tightness into your gut, but you push it aside. If that was the price you paid for all he gave your family… then you’d pay it gladly. 

You start with candles, finding a box of matches at your bedside. You light every candelabra you can find. The room, the castle, seems so perpetually… black- like it soaks up every ray of light it touches. Even when you’ve finished it doesn’t feel like enough. You make a note to ask Thomas for more in the morning. 

You find a meal, carefully prepared and preserved, on a table near your dresser. Judging by the fact that it’s still warm, you conclude that it can’t be much past mid-evening. You originally intend to pick at the food as you unpack, but one bite has your mouth watering. It is the most delicious thing to ever touch your lips, complete with dessert waiting on the side. You clean your plate before moving onto your bags. 

You lay your clothes out on the bed. A few dresses, riding pants, undergarments, an assortment of ribbons and bows. At one time these items had been the finest things you owned- now you owned a castle. 

You find an armoire that looks like a master sculptor carved its edges and grab a dress, intending to hang it. Instead, your dress hits the floor when you part the doors to find the hangers already full. Your lips part. Luxury dresses of silk and satin line the rack, fading into some that appear more casual outfits of cotton and linen. You stretch a hand out, curious and utterly… amazed. To think your new husband had gone to all the effort… Your hand brushes purple silk and- 

“Do you like them?” 

You screech, jumping to face the voice at your back. It takes a moment for your eyes to find him, leaning casually against one post of your bed. Your breath is stolen for a second time. Snow white hair, piercingly blue eyes, pale soft skin… you know who he is even without looking at his dress, at the air of authority he claims. He’s your husband… and he is the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

He laughs, then, and it’s a warmer sound than you’d thought it would be- rich and full. A sound that seeps into your bones and settles in your soul. 

��Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, but the twinkle in his eyes makes you think that perhaps that’s a lie. 

Your heart pounds and your eyes flash to the door. It’s shut. You didn’t hear it open, nor did you hear it close behind him. You also didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t hear breaths, didn’t hear him. 

He follows your gaze and laughs again, though it sounds a bit… strained? 

“I have a habit of being unintentionally lightfooted. I apologize.” 

Your heart is still pounding but you find it in yourself to have some decorum. You snap your jaw shut and bow your head slightly in respect. “You must be Lord Gojo. Forgive me for my insolence.” 

There’s a beat, and then footsteps– ones you actually hear this time. You clench your jaw when he stops before you and then nearly gasp when he takes your hand and brings it to his lips. 

“Satoru, please,” he winks and you think you might stop breathing. “I am your husband after all.” 

You force yourself to nod, to swallow, to act normal. But how can you in the presence of a man that looks like… that? There’s something too unreal about him, too perfect. It’s almost… unsettling. 

“Of course… Satoru.” 

He straightens and shows you a close-lipped smile that digs a dimple into his left cheek. You have to look away to avoid stumbling over your own feet. 

“So, do you like them?” Your brows furrow- “The dresses,” he clarifies. 

“O-oh.” Your features relax into an easy smile. You turn back to your armoire, running a hand along another gown. You don’t think you’ve ever touched something so… finely made. “I like them very much. I don’t know how to thank you.” 

There’s a little chuckle as you turn to face him again and you have to steel yourself before you meet his eyes. He’s mesmerizing, too mesmerizing. You think you could probably lose yourself in those eyes forever… 

“No need to thank me. If they don’t fit, we’ll call for the seamstress in the morning.” 

You nod softly, still lost to the situation. There’s a beat of silence in which your husband does nothing but… look at you. His eyes roam freely and the hair on your arms stands under his gaze. He traces the lines of your nose and jaw and lingers on your pulse. Can he see just how fast your heart is pounding?

“Did you… get dinner?” It’s a stupid question, you know, but you don’t think you can bear another second of that look he’s giving you. “I fell asleep and found a plate. I hope I didn’t prevent a proper meal…” You trail off. Perhaps you shouldn’t have pointed out your own shortcoming? 

He gives you another smile and you swear he inches just a little closer. “You did no such thing. I’m… perfectly satisfied.” 

You nod, glad that he doesn’t seem upset at the very least. Your lips press together, unsure of what to do or say. You’ve never had a husband before. Wasn’t he supposed to just sort of… put you on the bed and… do it?

Your eyes flit to said bed and your husband must see because he hurries to continue. 

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning then, hm?” His eyes flit to your armoire and back again. “Wear the blue dress with the lace to breakfast, yeah? Been dying to see it on you.” He chuckles like he’s just told some sort of amusing joke.

Your brows furrow. That was… not the topic you’d been expecting. “You’re not…” You feel your cheeks heat and tighten your jaw. “Not staying the night?” 

His lashes lower a fraction and those eyes pierce you again. You don’t think you could move even if you wanted to, even with him prowling closer, each step eating up the space between you. He doesn’t stop until you’re nose to nose and you can feel his breath fanning over your cheeks. It’s cold somehow, chilling, and you shiver. He smirks. 

“Not tonight.” 

His head dips and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, but then he’s bypassing your mouth altogether and- his lips connect to your pulse. His mouth is cool, just like his breath, and you shiver uncontrollably under his touch. 

His touch is just a fleeting moment, just a wrinkle in time, and then he’s gone. His footsteps are quiet brushes on the hardwood and the creak of the door even seems tamed in his presence. 

“Goodnight,” is all he says, and then he’s gone. 

You climb into your bed an hour later wondering what in the world just happened. 

~  

You do wear the blue dress to breakfast and you can only gape in the mirror when you realize that it fits perfectly. It has you second-guessing yourself. Had you sent your measurements in advance and forgotten about it? No, you’d only sent a handful of pieces of information to the Lord prior to your marriage and you remembered all of them very clearly. Everything had gone through a messenger, everything had been clear and direct– you would have remembered sending your measurements– you didn’t. So had he just… guessed? 

That seemed impossible with how everything fit you like a glove, but it was the only explanation you had. The only one that made sense. 

When you join Satoru for breakfast it’s in a sitting room as lavishly decorated as the rest of the castle, but perhaps organized to be a bit more… liveable. He has no plate in front of him, only a tin cup that hides the contents of whatever he’s drinking. You assume coffee or juice. Perhaps he’s just not a breakfast person. 

“It fits!” he says. His hands clasp together in front of him and he smiles again, dimples and all. 

You nod and fight the heat that bubbles beneath your cheeks as you take your seat. “Yes, perfectly.”

A plate is set before you and a glance up reveals it’s Thomas serving your breakfast. You smile, hoping for some acknowledgement from him, for a small piece of comfort. Instead, you get his averted gaze and quick retreat. Your brows furrow, but before you can say anything, Satoru is back to speaking. 

“I hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?” 

You glance up, but Satoru’s eyes aren’t on you, they’re on your footman. His smile is bright, but it’s anything but friendly. You fight a shiver. 

You glance at Thomas. He’s perfectly still, perfectly straight, but you think you see a muscle clench in his jaw. You clear your throat. “Y-Yes. Thomas was very helpful.” When Satoru keeps staring the boy down you add, “-and very respectful.” 

That seems to satisfy. Satoru breaks his stare and some of the tension in the air instantly eases. He shoots you another dimpled smile, this one with a little more warmth. “Perfect.” 

There’s a beat and then he’s standing, draining whatever he has in his cup and then straightening his jacket. “Well, I have some work to do. I’ll see you for dinner?” He’s grinning again, like it’s so normal for a man to abandon his bride on their wedding night and then again the morning after. All you can do is nod. He chuckles. “See you then, princess.” And then he’s gone.

~

If this is to be your life you don't know how you will survive it. You spend the day milling about. Through the gardens, through the castle, through the stables. Thomas is never far behind, but any attempt at conversation is nipped in the bud by hit shortness. It’s like he fears coming too close. He’s never closer than a couple paces except when he has to bring you something, only to retreat again as soon as possible. The other servants barely pay you any mind apart from giving you a respectful greeting and then immediately averting their eyes. There is no work to be done, no guests to be had, no parties to plan… and no Satoru. You don’t see your husband once on tour around the grounds. You ask Thomas where his office is only for him to vaguely point out a window in the east tower. You don’t see so much as a ripple in the curtains. 

Dinner comes around at the pace of a snail. When it’s finally time to get dressed a lady’s maid whose name you don’t even catch arrives to help you lace your dress. As soon as your corset is deemed tight enough she’s back out the door with a curtsy. Thomas leads you to the dining room and your eyes roam the whole way. Even after having spent the whole day exploring, there are halls and corridors that you’ve yet to step foot in. 

The dining room is just as gorgeous as the rest of the place– filled with singular items that could feed entire families for years. Somehow, you think you’ve already grown accustomed to such things, since the only thing you truly care to look at is your husband. Satoru’s already seated, but he stands when you enter, looping around the table to pull a chair out for you. 

You give him your most genuine smile, accepting a kiss to your knuckles in greeting before you settle. “How was your day?” you ask as he takes his seat again. 

He chuckles. “Perfectly fine. And how was yours, princess?” Your nose crinkles. That’s the second time he’s called you that. Something about it feels wrong. You’re still getting used to being a lady. Princess feels even worse. 

“It was… good.”

You watch a perfect white brow arch in the candlelight. “Oh? Just good?” You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to the corner– to Thomas. 

You hurry to elaborate. “Well, I just– I can’t help but feel as if there’s not much… use for me.” Servants flood in, some carrying wine, others carrying trays that hold more food than the both of you could ever possibly consume. 

That brow arches impossibly higher. “Use?” His lips crack into that smile again, but it’s tight this time. Too tight. “You have no use. You only enjoy yourself. Surely Thomas has told you that.” 

A plate of steaming food plops in front of you. Even its heavenly smell can’t quell the sudden dread in your gut. “Of course! Of course he did.” Your stomach twists and you decide that perhaps now is not the time to press the subject. “I’ll just… I’ll try riding tomorrow.” You hate riding, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind. 

Satoru’s smile thaws into something less menacing. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy that.” 

You nod eagerly. “I’m sure I will.” 

You grab your fork, eager for a new subject. From what you can tell, dinner is roast chicken and vegetables, though it’s the luxury version as everything seems to be. The spices are intoxicating and the green beans are even arranged in a pretty little pattern that makes them look too good to eat. You do anyway. The first bite nearly makes you moan, but you chew slowly, delicately, trying not to let your upbringing show.

It’s not until several bites later that you realize you’re the only one eating. A quick glance reveals your husband has no platter, no chicken or green beans. He’s only… watching you. You clear your throat, dabbing at your lips with a napkin. 

“You’re not… eating?”

That permanent smile grows a little wider and you can’t help but feel as if there’s something… menacing about it. “Ate before I came.” 

Your brows furrow. “Oh. Were you on the road?” 

You think you see something wild flash in his eyes. “No.” 

The rest of dinner passes slowly, almost painfully. Satoru doesn’t eat a bite, doesn’t even look enticed. You wonder how that’s possible when it smells like a spice bomb went off in the dining room. 

By the time you’ve cleared your plate you’ve discussed everything from the number of horses in the stables to kinds of crops grown on the estate. It’s comforting to know a little more about your new home, but it’s not enough. 

“Is there a library?” you ask. You’re on dessert now. It’s the best chocolate cake you’ve ever had and it takes everything in you to hold back a moan each time it touches your tongue. 

“Of course.” Your husband’s eyes flicker to Thomas again and you’re honestly starting to fear for the poor footman’s life. Everytime you ask a question it’s like Satoru is angry it hasn’t already been answered. “It’s yours to use as you please.” 

You smile lightly. “Perfect. Thank you.” 

He softens a bit at that. “Is there anything specific you wanted to read about?” 

You shrug. “The estate, I suppose. I should know my home’s history, no?”

His eyes get that wild look again, that sparkle that you know speaks to nothing good. “Oh, absolutely. I have some personal favorites to recommend. I’ll leave them aside for you?” 

You swallow and give him a shallow nod. “That would be perfect. Thank you.” 

He chuckles. “My pleasure.” 

When dessert is finally over, you stand slowly. Satoru’s not far behind you, saying he’ll walk you to your room. Your heart leaps at his words. Will he stay with you tonight? 

He offers you his arm in the hall and your mouth runs dry when you feel the corded muscle beneath his jacket. By the time you reach your room, you’re thinking of tugging him in behind you. His denial to stay with you last night was not only confusing, but… off putting. Nearly offensive. Did he not like how you looked? Did he think something was wrong with you? 

You muster all the courage you possess and force your lips apart. “Will you stay with me tonight?” 

His eyes spark again and you hold your breath. He presses closer. This is it, you think. His lips hover over yours, eyes glimmering in the candlelight. And then he dips his head, his mouth pressing to your pulse. 

“Not tonight,” he whispers– and then he’s gone. 

~

You wake suddenly. It’s the middle of the night, you gather. The light streaming through the window is weak enough to only be that of the moon. 

Your heart is pounding and your skin is slick with sweat despite the chill in your bones. A nightmare, you think. It must have been a nightmare. 

As you settle back into your sheets you swear you see a ripple in the darkness. You close your eyes. If your nightmare is real, you’d rather not see it coming.

~

The library is huge. It’s sprawling and smells of paper and leather and everytime Thomas lights a candle you flinch at the idea that one misplaced spark could end thousands of years of knowledge. 

The books Satoru left you are… perfect. Just what you were looking for. They’re all comprehensive volumes of the history of the estate, many of which reference each other. You’re stunned to see that several are written by very well-known authors of both the past and the present. You knew the Gojo family’s influence reached far, but not that far. You peruse the titles. The Gojos: A History, A History of the Gojo Crest, History of the Gojo Castle, Revisiting the Gojo Family: A Comprehensive History. Altogether you have well over a few thousand pages of information– but there’s one book that doesn’t fit with the rest. It’s relatively unassuming. A black cover with some sort of gold rune etched onto its front. When you flip to the title page it reads “Creatures of Myth and Where To Find Them”. Your brows furrow. You slide it to the side– must have gotten mixed in with the others, you think.

~

You ask Thomas to bring the books to your room. He does. Very respectfully. He sets them on your bedside table and then retreats like a kicked puppy with only a polite goodbye. You sigh. His behavior has only gotten stranger in the past few days. You think the servants’ coldness must have something to do with Satoru, but you can’t figure out why. Had he ordered them to stay away? Why would he? 

You decide it’s a question for another day and dive into your books. You spend hours, days, reading every chapter, page, and word. The pure amount of information is dizzying. Apparently this specific estate had been in the hands of the Gojo family since the eighth century (with several razings and consequential rebuilds). You also learn that Satoru was not only the most wealthy lord on the continent, but the most wealthy man. Even wealthier than the king apparently, though that fact was kept fairly under wraps to protect the crown’s ego. The estimates of your husband’s net worth made your head spin.

Satoru joins you for breakfast and dinner every day. You never see him eat a morsel. It’s… unsettling to say the least. It’s always just that tin cup, filled with something you could never quite see. You develop a pattern of waking in the night, too, with the overwhelming sense that something is watching you. Sometimes you could swear you feel the bed shift as you jerk awake. Each time you simply close your eyes and try your best to slow your heart, convinced your mind is playing tricks on you. 

Your days feel a little more productive with a book in your hands, but you’ve read them all three times over by the time a fortnight has passed. You find yourself packing them up to return to Thomas when a certain black cover catches your attention. You grab it from the pile and settle back into your seat. You’ve nothing better to do, right? 

You flip back the cover, revealing a familiar title. “Creatures of Myth and Where to Find Them”. You don’t recognize the author’s name. A quick scroll through the table of contents reveals nothing particularly interesting, but you pick a random chapter on ghouls and decide to start there. 

It’s fascinating. Nothing about the style is boring and the words fly by. Your silly little myth book is a page turner. By the time you notice the light has started dying you’ve read about ghosts, fairies, werewolves, and goblins– all of which have been a delightful little read. A glance at the clock reveals you have a half hour before dinner. One more chapter, you think. Your eyes skim the title. “Vampires [Vampyr]”. 

You skim the first paragraphs until your eyes settle on a line that catches your eye. 

“Contrary to popular belief, vampires are not always crazed blood-hungry monsters. Many live among humans quite comfortably and are able to avoid detection with a little well-placed effort.” 

You purse your lips. What a… terrifying thought. You skim a little further. 

“A vampire’s key characteristic is, of course, their desire and need to drink human blood as sustenance. However, a vampire can be spotted sooner if one is able to recognize their subtler traits. Vampires often have skin lacking any sort of flush. The lack of blood in their veins results in a sickly pallor, even after the most rigorous exercise. Their skin is also noticeably cold to the touch. At best, a vampire’s body will reach room temperature. Vampires can also be noted for their preternatural beauty. They will stand out as the most attractive person in any crowd. Finally, a vampire will have fangs. If one wishes to identify a vampire, one only needs a good look at their teeth”.

A chill settles over your skin. You flip ahead a few pages. 

“Vampires are unable to consume typical human food. Should they attempt to, their bodies will immediately reject any and all foreign substances.” 

Your stomach drops. You don’t want to think about why. You skip the rest of the paragraph. 

“Vampires possess several supernatural abilities that set them apart as a human’s predator rather than their equal. Vampires are known to move unnaturally fast and are notably light footed. If a vampire does not wish to be heard, they will not be. A vampire’s strength is inhuman, well over ten times that of the average man. They also have a penchant for darkness, an ability to hide away in the shadows that cannot be explained. Oftentimes they will seem to appear from thin air.”

You skip ahead again.

“Vampires have been known to take mates. Mates usually come in the form of another vampire, but in some cases a human has been chosen. Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly. Oftentimes, vampires make these decisions with haste, with little regard for whether or not the threat was real. A vampire will do everything in their power to please their mate, but have been known to forcibly restrain their mates in situations of unrequited feelings. Above all else, vampires wish to possess their mates. Two bonded vampires will sometimes spiral into gloriously destructive fits in their endless desire to protect and possess one another. A vampire bonded to a human will show an increasingly protective nature, often isolating their mate from others.”

Your heart pounds. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. You flip the pages, desperate– desperate for a piece of information that will save you from the thoughts spilling in your mind, from the thoughts you will do anything not to believe. You reach the “Where to Find Them” subsection and nearly gasp with relief. Surely, vampires do not pose as wealthy lords of Europe? 

“Vampires can be found everywhere. They do not exist in only one country or continent, but all over the world. Odds are that you have faced at least one vampire in your life, unknowingly or not. Some vampires choose to live solitary lives, surviving in the wilderness where human society will not attempt to tame their wild nature. Others choose to live among humans, some even existing in positions of very high authority.” 

No, no, no. This can’t be happening to you. It can’t be real. You’re dreaming, you’re having one of those nightmares again. You’re going to wake up any second. 

“One tale recounts a razing of the Gojo estate in the 12th century.” 

You’re panting, hyperventilating. This isn’t happening. 

“Soldiers of the enemy force recounted a singular man, the son and heir of the then Lord Gojo, taking out a minimum of 800 men. He was described as having his family’s characteristic white hair as well as blue eyes. Eyewitness accounts depict the Gojo heir as covered in blood and killing savagely and with inhuman strength.” 

No, no, no. 

“(See next page for only existing portrait)”

Your fingers tremble but you can’t stop them. There’s no way. It’s not possible. 

You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you. 

Knock! Knock! Knock!

You nearly scream. Your door rattles angrily, but you’re not sure you can answer it, not with the knowledge flooding your mind. The knocking continues. You run your hand over your face and smooth down your hair. You feel frazzled, dirty, despite not having moved from your chair all day. Another knock prompts you to set your book aside and stand. You do your best to compose yourself, to put on a straight face. You fail instantly when you pull back the door not to reveal your faithful attendant, not Thomas, but Satoru. 

You bite back a shriek and instead force a smile. You’re suddenly very aware of the blood pounding in you veins and of the fact that he most likely knows. 

“Hello,” he says, but his voice is lower than usually, more intense. 

You force a breath into your lungs. “Hello,” you answer, but it sounds more like a squeak than a greeting. 

Something flashes in his eyes, something familiar, something that is no longer interesting but rather terrifying. “Are you alright? You seem a little… flushed.” The concern on his face feels anything but genuine. 

“I’m fine,” you answer, but even you can tell that reply too quickly, too eagerly. You rush to cover it up. “Is it time for dinner? Where’s Thomas?” 

His lip twitches and you see a muscle in his jaw flex. “Thomas has… left us.” 

No. This wasn’t happening to you. There was no way this was happening to you. 

“He… what?” There’s an unmistakable wobble in your voice that only causes Satoru’s face to fall further. 

“It’s no matter. He’s gone. Now it’s just you and me, hm?” He chuckles and the sound rattles your bones. “In fact, I was thinking I’d cut down on the number of servants we have entirely…” 

You mind races with the memory of knowledge you wish you didn’t have. “Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly.”

You nearly stumble, but lean against the doorframe just in time. Your husband had disposed of a man, all because he brought you meals and books?

“What have you been up to today, princess?” The question breaks your trance just in time for you to see your husband’s eyes flicker behind you. 

You wet your lips. “Just some reading.” You plead that he doesn’t ask anything further. He does. 

“About the estate?” he asks. 

You nod and try to swallow the lump in your throat. “Yes.”

His smile returns and this time it’s not forced. “You got my books, then?” 

You try smiling back, but you’re fairly sure it looks more like a grimace. “Yes.”

“Anything interesting?” he presses.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Does he know? Does he know that you know? “Yes, of course. Lots.” 

He pauses and you see the debate and then the decision in his eyes. You think it’s the first time you’ve felt true terror when he meets your gaze again. “I think we should skip dinner tonight. It seems we have so much to discuss.”

You don’t even have the wherewithal to scream when he steps into you, forcing you back until he’s shutting your door behind him. He doesn’t stop there, though. He keeps pressing, keeps pushing until your knees hit the bed and you’re falling to the mattress. He crawls right after you.

“Who knew my little wife was such a reader? All those books in such a short time… You must be simply spilling with information.” 

You retreat across the mattress, squeaking when your back hits the headboard and his arms cage your waist. You’re trapped.

His hands find your hips and you’re all too aware of how cool his touch is. Even more so when he pulls you right into his lap.

“Satoru-” your voice is pitiful, breathless, and you’re ashamed to say it’s not just from the fear in your gut. He’s never been this close before, never touched you, held you like this. “Thomas-” 

“Don’t speak his name.” His face pulls into the first scowl you’ve ever seen and the sight is enough to root you to the spot. Never have you seen anything more frightening. A creature so beautiful, so perfectly angelic, filled with an insurmountable rage. It’s wrong. “He’s gone. He’ll never bother you again.” He’s closer now, his breath skating over your skin. It’s cool and now you know the reason why. 

You shake and tremble and you know– Thomas is dead. Your husband killed him– killed him for getting too close when all he did was stay at a distance. Satoru killed him. Killed him. 

He buries himself in your neck, his voice a near whine. “Thought I could put up with it, just so you’d have someone to take care of you…” He groans. “I was so wrong, princess. Couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the way you smelled more like him than me…” 

You feel him melt against you then, relief washing over his body in a wave. “But he’s gone. And now it’s just you and me, hm? Just you and me…” He hums, like remembering that fact is all he’s ever needed.

He’s kissing your pulse again, now, and your heart is racing faster than ever. Your fingers curl into his shoulders. You should push him away, away, away. He’s a killer, of thousands no doubt. You’ve never felt at home here, never felt like you belonged. This is why. You’re not even the same species. He’s something else, something your hands were never meant to touch. 

Your mind screams at you to do go, to shove and kick at him and leave this place behind. Go, go, go your gut says… but you don’t. You can’t. It’s too… good. The feeling of his cool lips against your skin, of what you’re sure is his tongue prodding at your pulse… it’s intoxicating. He is intoxicating. How could anyone blame you for wanting more of someone, something, so divine? 

“Have you figured it out yet, love?” Your breath hitches and he chuckles, licking a long stripe up your neck, before he settles back at your pulse. Always your pulse. “I can feel those little gears turning. Tell me, what have they discovered?” 

He knows you know. But he’s going to make you say it. You swallow and feel his grip on you tighten. “You’re…” Your breaths come faster. You can’t. Not aloud. Aloud makes it too… real. 

“Yessss?” he prods. He’s licking at you again, all the way across your throat to find your other pulse-point. 

“You’re not…” Something sharps nicks at your skin and you bite your lip to hold back a whimper. 

“Go on, princess.” You think he’s just smelling you now, just burying his face as close to you as possible and taking you in. 

You close your eyes tightly, holding back tears. “Not human,” you breathe. A piece of you breaks with the admission.

He huffs a little laugh against your skin and pulls back to look you in the eye. “That’s good,” he purrs. “But I think you can be a little more specific, no?” His lips press to your chin, then the corner of your mouth, then down to your jaw… “Tell me.” 

Your lips wobble, muscles clenching tighter with each passing moment. You don’t want to say it, don’t want to speak it into existence, but you also don’t dare to disobey him. 

“You’re a…” You shake and tremble. He draws a line up your neck with the tip of his nose.

“Mhm?” 

You open your eyes, thinking this might be the last time you see. “Vampire.” 

He chuckles and you feel his teeth press to the skin of your neck. “That’s right, princess. So smart.” 

He smiles and you suddenly realize you’ve never seen his teeth before. Everytime he smiles at you it’s close-lipped and dimpled. But this… this is the smile of a predator– all white and pointy and fitted with a set of menacingly long fangs. You sob at the sight. 

“Shhhhh,” he coos. He has your chin in his hand, forcing you to truly look at him, to see him for what he is. “I won’t hurt you, love.” You want to believe him so badly it burns, but his laugh washes away any fire and turns it to ice. “Not unless you want me to.” He wiggles a brow like it’s just a little joke, like he’s not an actual fucking vampire that had his fangs over your neck just moments ago. 

“Satoru,” you beg. You’re not sure what you’re begging for. Release maybe? But, no, that’s not right. You don’t want him to let you go, not when you finally have him close after all this time. “Why did you pick me?” 

The question slips out. You hadn’t even been thinking about it, hadn’t even noticed it scratching at the walls of your mind, but it made its way out nonetheless.

His brow creases, but not in confusion. Moreso in… thoughtfulness. “Do you think about that a lot, princess?” 

You nod and you suddenly want him closer, want him to touch you everywhere, hold you like his life depends on it. You want him, no matter how horrible it might be. 

He nods and hums, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “Well…” he says. His thumb swipes over your lips when he leans in to whisper in your ear. “At first I wanted you for this.” His head dips to your neck again and you feel the familiar brush of his lips against your throat. “You smell…” he chuckles. “Like heaven. Which is a place I’ll never get to on my own, so I had to bring my own little slice home, no?” He laughs again, a little louder this time, genuinely amused. “Went into town one day and caught your scent on the street. At first I thought I must be walking past the bakery, but, lo and behold, there was no baker in sight.” He’s still kissing at your pulse, worshiping it. “Went crazy, princess. Didn’t think I was going to be able to contain myself when I found you. Thought it might be quite the scene.” He huffs a laugh and you shiver, somehow both terrified and intoxicated. “But then I saw you–” he groans and something clenches deep at your center. “And I knew I needed more than just your blood. Needed you.” He’s rocking into you now, and your breath catches when you feel something firm against your backside. “Went to you in that little room you slept in every night. Watched you. Couldn’t stay away. Knew I had to have you.” You feel him smile against your skin. “After a week I couldn’t take it anymore. Sent you that letter, married you. Made you mine.” He groans again. “Then I met you and you were so pretty, princess. Already knew it, but hearin’ you talk to me, look at me.” Teeth graze your pulse. “Needed you more than ever. Almost took you right on the fucking floor in here while you were lookin’ at those dresses.” You whine when his hips roll into you again. “Oh, but I knew I couldn’t. You’re so fragile, love. Had to wait, had to make you feel safe, yeah? Spent all this time forcing myself to stay away, ‘fraid of what I might too if I was in your presence too long. Had to control myself. Had to make you realize you could trust me.” He panting, like he’s so pent up he can hardly sit still. “Do you trust me, princess?” 

Your brows scrunch. Say no, say no, say no a part of you screams. Run, run, run. You can’t. “Yes,” you breathe. 

You feel him smile again, feel the pleasure of submission. “Good girl.” 

You’re on your back. It happens so fast your eyes don’t even have time to gasp. You don’t see Satoru, but you feel him. Everywhere. His hands are roaming your body softly, sliding under buttons and laces and popping them off. Your dress loosens with every passing moment until Satoru reappears above you, diving straight for your neck again. “So good, princess. Let’s get you out of this dress, yeah?” 

You nod wordlessly, entranced. He finds your mouth as he rids you of your clothes. His tongue presses in and you flail against him, unsure of what to do, of how to handle the intrusion. The kiss is heavy, too heavy, but Satoru can’t seem to stop. He devours you as he gives up on laces and buttons and simply shreds your dress down the back. You tremble when the cold air hits your skin, when his cool fingers dust your collarbone. 

“I always forget how many damn layers they make you ladies wear,” he chuckles. His hands run beneath your shift, up across your bare thigh. You gasp at the touch. No one has even been so close to you before. You feel the threads of your corset snapping away, feel your breaths growing deeper. You tremble when he pulls your sleeve down past your shoulder and runs his mouth along the newly exposed skin. 

“Satoru,” you gasp, and your hand pulls at his flowing white shirt. 

He chuckles, pulling back just enough to see your face. “You wanna see me too?” You nod, lips parted and eyes glassy, and he laughs again. He lips dust over the corner of your mouth. “Alright.” 

His hands shift from you to himself, working at the laces on his chest. His movements are speedy, practiced, like he’s been lacing and unlacing shirts for hundreds of years. Your throat tightens when you realize that he has. 

You gasp when he reveals himself, when his shirt slides away to reveal an expanse of pale skin and carved muscle. You’ve never seen a man like this and seeing one this close up for the first time is nearly blinding. He’s art, you think- nothing less. 

“Touch me, princess,” he says. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He’s too beautiful, too perfect to be beneath your insignificant hands. “Need a little help?” he asks, and there’s a lilt in his voice that makes you sure he’s grinning. 

His hands find yours and bring them to his chest, running your palms over his collarbones, his pecs, down, down, down across his abs that you can feel each and every one… You whimper, watching your own fingers grope his skin. He pulls you lower, lower, lower, and you gasp when your fingertips brush the waistband of his pants. But then he’s laughing again and he’s throwing your arms over his shoulders and pulling you closer, kissing your neck like it pained him to be parted from your pulse for so long. 

“Not so fast,” he says, like he wasn’t the one nearly stuffing your hands down his pants. His hands are on your corset again. You can feel it dangling onto you by a thread, literally. All he needs is a couple more pulls and you’ll be bare. By the look he gives you, you can tell he’s 

thinking the same thing. “You touch me, now I touch you, yeah?” There’s a tug and a tear and then so much… cold. You’ve never realized how cold this castle is, not until you’re exposed to its elements fully. You’re naked. 

Satoru sits back on his knees and just watches. His gaze is searing, burning, despite the iciness of his being. It’s too much. Your hands move to cover yourself, to maintain some modicum of your dignity- 

“No.” Strong hands find your wrists and pry them apart. “Let me see you,” he says. His tongue darts out to lick his lips. 

Your jaw clenches and your frame shakes, but you do as he asks, letting your hands fall limply at your sides. There’s silence for many more moments and it seems to go on so long that you can only squeeze your eyes shut under his gaze. Surely he will turn you away now, get up and leave, tell you this was a mistake, tell you that you’re– 

“Beautiful,” he breathes. Your eyes snap open to find him already staring at you. “Beautiful,” he says again, and then he’s on you, lips at your pulse, hands on your skin. His touch is cool and you squeak at the chill that runs up your spine. You’re not sure it’s entirely from his temperature. 

His mouth seeks yours and he devours you. You feel as if he’s sucking your soul out through your lips. “Tell me you’ve never done this before,” he begs. “Tell me I’m the first to touch you.” 

You whine against his mouth, both aching for more and overwhelmed by what he’s already giving you. “Y-You’re the first,” you whisper. 

His groan is deep, primal. It rattles through your chest and you whimper when his hands dig into your waist hard enough to bruise. “Yes,” he breathes, and you shiver again. “Lie back, princess.” Your eyes widen, with anticipation or fear you’re not sure. Probably both. He chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.” 

You pray he means that. “Just relax, love. Here, hold my hand.” His fingers find yours, twining them together. When you swallow, his eyes follow the bob of your throat. He leans back again and your body twitches when his free hand skims the skin of your thighs. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he finds your knees and you gasp when he parts your legs, revealing you so completely to his gaze. The way he stares, like he’s committing you to memory, it’s nearly enough to make you snap your thighs shut, but a squeeze from his hand reminds you to relax, to trust. 

His palm skates up your thigh and settles near your hip, his fingertips inching closer to where you can feel an embarrassing throb. 

“Tell me, love. Have you ever touched yourself here?” His fingers dust low on your tummy- just low enough for you to catch his meaning, but not low enough to give you any relief. Your face heats and your teeth dig into the flesh of your cheek. You have, you have touched yourself there, but it’s the last thing you want to admit to your new husband. It’s shameful, it’s dirty, it’s- “Don’t think I’ll judge you, princess. Just wanna know.” 

You gulp down a breath. You should come clean. “Y-yes,” you stutter, and the sound of your voice so weak and helpless only makes you flush further. 

He chuckles and squeezes your hand again. “On the outside or the inside?” 

Your eyes widen. I-inside? You’d never considered that… “J-just the outside,” you answer. 

Your eyes grow even wider when his head rolls back and he moans straight up to the ceiling like your answer is heaven-sent. When he looks back to you his fangs are on full display. “Well, I think you and I are in for a little treat today, hm?” 

Your brow furrows and your lips part to ask him what he means– his fingers travel those last few inches down your tummy and find your clit. You squeak and jolt so violently that he presses a hand to your hip, holding you to the mattress. “Somebody’s sensitive,” he chuckles. He holds you still for a moment and then lets your hips go free. “Try to stay still. I promise it’ll feel good.”

You nod hopelessly, but this time you’re prepared for when he touches you again. Your muscles clench at the first touch, at the foreign sensation of a touch down there that wasn’t your own. But then it’s more. It’s languid, slow circles around a spot that you’ve never been able to pinpoint so well on your own. It’s heat building in your tummy that seeps through every vein and into every pore. It’s relaxation that you’ve never known, that has you melting into the mattress despite the chill of the touch. 

There’s a little huff of a laugh and then his voice. “Good girl. Feels nice, yeah?” You nod hesitantly and squeeze desperately at his hand, searching for an anchor. His head cocks to the side and you watch the smile slide across his lips. “It’s about to feel even nicer.” 

By the time you realize what he’s doing it’s far too late to stop him. His mouth closes around your cunt and you yelp, trying to wiggle away from the overwhelming sensation- but he’s got his freehand on your hip again and his grip is bruising, punishing, as he holds you in place. He licks a stripe through your folds and you find yourself jolting again, uselessly so against the pressure of his palm on your hip. “Stop that, princess.” Your heart drops at the admonishment until you feel his guiding touch. “Rock into me like this.” His hand rocks your hips into his mouth and the pressure of his tongue against your clit is so delicious that you whimper. “Good girl,” he says and your heart rises right back up. “Keep doing that, now.” You don’t dare defy him. You rock like he showed you, a little jerkily at first, and then you find a rhythm that has you seeing stars. “That’s it, love,” he says, and the sound is muffled against your cunt. “Here, put your hand in my hair.” He finds your wrist and guides you forward until your fingers are tangling in those snowy locks. They’re even softer than you’d imagined. “Good girl,” he whispers and suddenly he’s taking one last long lick and lifting his head to meet your eyes. “‘M gonna put my fingers in you now, princess.” Your chin wobbles. “It might hurt a little bit, but stay still, okay?” You can’t do anything but nod. 

His eyes return to your cunt and you can feel him prodding at your entrance, circling the hole as you clench in anticipation. “Relaaaaaax, love,” he says and you nod. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth– 

You feel the exact moment he pushes into you and a whine of pain rips from your throat. Your walls clamp down like a vice, angry at the intrusion– but it’s already too late. There’s a beat of silence, of anticipation, and then he’s– laughing? 

Your brows furrow when you hear it, your head lifting to a sight that locks your limbs in shock. Satoru’s hand is lifted in front of his face, his pointer finger coated in– blood, you realize. Your blood. And he’s a fucking vampire. 

“Oh princess,” he coos, and the manic look in his eyes makes you tremble. “You really are perfect.” 

Things seem to slow as you watch him take his blood covered finger into his mouth. You’re sure you’ve never seen an expression more blissful, more lost to sensation. His eyes roll back and his body shivers, like he’s ascending to some higher plane. Maybe he is. 

When he pulls his finger from his mouth it’s completely licked clean. You hold your breath. He’s going to go for your neck now, right? He’s had a taste and now he’ll want more of it, all of it?

“Fuck,” is all he says. His mouth is back on your cunt so fast you don’t even see him move. 

Your mouth falls wide. It hurts, the way he is so desperately licking at you. You feel his finger again, pressing in, in, in, only to pull back and suddenly be joined by another. The stretch tears at you. You thrash and jolt, but Satoru doesn’t bother telling you to stop this time. His arm wraps over your hips, holding you in place. He seems immune to how hard your legs squeeze at his head or your hands pull at his hair. He’s lost. You can feel him licking, lapping, and prodding at you like you’re a fucking gold mine. He’s lost to desperation, to the need for more, more, more. Every so often he lifts his chin and you see his mouth smudged with a mixture of your wetness and your blood. He laps at his lips like an animal, dragging his thumb across his chin and sliding it into his mouth to make sure he gets every last drop. 

You’re not quite sure when the ravenous pain turns to a ravenous pleasure, when it turns from terrifying to downright delicious. You don’t notice your moans filling the air until Satoru joins you, groaning and whining into your cunt and telling you to keep going, to keep making those sounds. The hand you have buried in his hair doesn’t fight to push him away any longer, only to pull him into those now practiced rocks of your hips. His fingers thrust deep, curling into a spot that makes you feel so good and his mouth has found your clit again. He sucks your nerves lightly between his lips, tongue swirling in little circles. Your thighs start to shake. 

“Yes. Yes. Give it to me.” 

“S-Satoru–” you breathe. Warmth and tightness pool in your tummy, and you recognize it as your approaching orgasm, though you know this one will be far different than any you’ve ever managed to give yourself. Your body shakes and your breaths tremble and then– you fall over the edge, rocking your hips senselessly, losing all form of rhythm. Warmth tingles in your spine and seeps all the way down to your toes. You think you cry out, cry for your husband, cry for more, cry for less, but if you do you don’t hear it. All you hear is the pounding of your pulse, of pleasure throbbing in your veins until the world slowly seeps back in through the corners of your vision. 

Satoru is grinning. A speck of your blood clings to his chin and his fangs peek out from behind his lips. The sight makes your blood run a little colder. If any part of you doubted what he was before… well, there was no doubt any longer. 

There’s a shift between your legs, his hips slotting between them, and you’re suddenly snapped back to reality. From the look in his eyes, you’re not done. 

Frantic hands find his pants and he undoes each button with a quickness that is almost inhuman. You wonder if he could go even faster, if he’s holding back so as not to scare you. If he is, it isn’t working very well. Fear surges in your veins right alongside anticipation. 

“S-Satoru–”

“It’s alright, love.” His hand finds yours without his eyes ever looking up. His grip is just a little too firm, a little too cold. “Just stay still.” 

You whimper, but you don’t think he’s paying attention to that, and soon enough, neither are you. His pants slide down just past his hips, just enough. You gasp. 

You’ve never seen a man in the nude, never even dared to think about what it might look like, though it seemed you no longer had to guess. His hand wrapped around his shaft, giving one long and slow stroke that made his breath hiss through his fangs. The tip was flushed, angry, and leaking something that looked clear and sticky. You couldn’t help but notice it was a lot thicker than a finger, or even two. If his fingers had hurt…

He moves with that alarming quickness again, leaning down to hover over you, chests nearly pressed together. “Gonna take you now, princess. Gonna make you mine.” His eyes bore into yours, blue and shimmering with something wild. His hand presses into the mattress beside your head. “Stay still, now.”

It’s all the warning he gives you. You feel like you’re splitting– straight up the middle. You wail, hands flying out to claw at his back. It hurts. It hurts. 

“Satoru, p-please! It’s–” 

Lips catch yours– hungry, feral. The kiss is not gentle, not soothing. It shuts you up, it keeps you quiet, it keeps you still as you feel him sinking further, deeper into you. It’s too much, you try to say, but the poke of sharp teeth against your lips keeps you silent. Your hips jolt and wiggle trying desperately to escape the stretch but it’s no use. By the time he’s fully inside you, tears are streaking down your cheeks, fat and heavy. His lips break away and his eyes reappear. You shake when you see that none of the wildness has been tamed, that you’ve only just begun.

“Good girl,” he coos, and a cool finger traces a line across your jaw. “Took me so well.” You hold back a sob when his hips shift a little, testing, prodding. He must see the pinch of your eyes, the twist of your mouth, because he’s quick to comfort. “Just hold my hand, princess.” His hips rock in earnest this time and you whimper, squeezing down on his hand with all your might. You’re panting as he chuckles. “Breathe, love. Breathe. Soon you’ll be begging for more,” he laughs. It’s not long before he’s rocking into you sincerely, setting a pace that stretches you to the brink of breaking. At first it’s all you can do to grasp onto him, to bite your lips through the whimpers and hold his hand. And then it’s… more. It’s heat and warmth despite the coolness of his body on yours. It’s sensation and… pleasure. He laughs when the first moan slides past your lips, burying his face in your neck once again. You hear him at your ear, panting his hot breath across your skin. 

“Feel good, princess?” You nod, letting your hips rock against his as he showed you before. It feels good– it feels right. He chuckles, but there’s nothing light about the sound. “Wanna feel even better?” Something sharp pokes at the skin of your neck, hard enough to make you squeak, to make you freeze at what you know he wants. 

He pulls himself back, pressing his forehead to yours, searching your eyes with his. Something like a cruel smile dances on his mouth. “Just a taste, love. I promise it won’ hurt.” His tongue darts out and licks across your lips, his thrusts rocking just a bit faster. “You’ll feel s’ good an’ I’ll only take a little.” He laughs again and it sends a chill through your bones. “Promise.” He sounds breathless, like he’s struggling to restrain himself. The increase of his pace makes you whine and you squeeze his hand again. He buries himself back in your neck, panting. “Come on, love. Say yes. Say yes f’ me.” Your eyes glaze over. Your body justles with each new thrust. He’s desperate now, seeking a release that you don’t think is any kind you’re familiar with. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chants in your ear. You’re not sure when his words twist in your mind, when they settle on your tongue and push past your lips, but you know it feels so right when they do. 

“Yes,” you whisper. 

His fangs clamp around your pulse. You scream when the sting rips through you, violent and savage– but it only lasts a moment. Pain fades to… ecstasy. You feel his throat bobbing with each swallow, feel your blood seeping from your skin and onto his tongue. You’d thought it would feel slicing, draining, like the life was being sucked from you. It doesn’t. It feels wonderful. Heat spreads under your skin, emanating from your neck and down to your toes. It feels like breathing for the first time, like sugar being pumped into your veins. It feels like heaven. Your hand tangles in his hair, holding him close. You don’t want it to stop, not ever. You could die like this, have him suck every last drop of blood from your veins and thank him for it with your dying breath. 

He’s moaning now, hands curling into your hips while he fucks into you relentlessly. The pace is grueling and brutal. You know it should hurt but only feels perfect. Anything less would not be enough. Anything else would leave you wanting. You feel it building, feel that familiar twinge at your core. The ecstasy flooding through your veins has it coming faster, has you teetering on the edge in moments. 

“Satoru…” You hadn’t noticed how dizzy you felt until you tried to speak. You wonder why… “‘M gonna…” 

He fucks you harder, something menacing and deep rumbling in his chest. The sound makes you shiver, makes you whine, makes you come. 

Your body shakes and a cry rips from your throat, cunt clenching like a vice around him. Your eyes roll back, hands scraping trails down his back. Your thighs quake with the intensity, with the overwhelming senses of pleasure that erupt throughout your body. Every nerve is firing, every hair rising. It’s an unstoppable current, one that sweeps you away, helpless to its pull. 

His thrusts grow sloppy and untimed. His grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place while he makes you his. His teeth break from your neck and when you look up through blurry eyes you see his head thrown back, your blood streaming down his chin in thick little globs. You feel it when he cums, feel the thick ropes of it seeping into your womb, feel the way he keeps fucking you, pushing it deeper and deeper inside. He’s moaning, chanting your name like a prayer at the heavens. 

When the moment ends he slumps over you, eyes half lidded and tired. There’s a familiar grin on his lips, one that inspires both comfort and uneasiness in your gut. You can’t help but stare at him, at the blood that stains his chin and cheeks, that reddens his lips so beautifully. You want to reach out and touch him, touch his blood-soaked skin and see what it feels like, what it tastes like. What you taste like. 

His eyes slide to the side, finding your pulse again. You groan. Yes, you think. Please, yes. More. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of that. Of his teeth in your flesh, of the euphoria flooding your veins. More, more, more, your mind chants. 

He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. “No, princess.” He raises a finger to trace the curve of your neck. “I took more than I should have…” His expression doesn’t tense with worry. His cheeks pull into a smile, those little dimples shining through. “But what can I say? You just taste so good.” Like he needs to emphasize his point, his tongue darts out to trace his lips, lapping up some of the remaining blood on his chin. “You taste like mine.”

You whine. More, more, more. It’s all you can think about. You lift an arm weakly. You want to pull him to your neck, to make him drink, to make him fill you with the heaven you had just moments ago. 

He catches your wrist and brings it to his lips, inhaling deeply. His lips split into another grin and you see his eyes spark again with the wildness you crave. 

“Not yet, princess.” he coos. “But soon.” His smile grows even wider, until those fangs are on full display, until you’re trembling again. “Forever,” he whispers.

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[rosicheeks]

oh yes you were at court! i forgot that was at the start of that post lmao. i've been to court twice when i was super young for drinking underage and then smoking lool it was so boring and long and shit but thankfully you were just there for moral support, i hope it wasen't such a bad thing your friend had to deal with! I remember seeing you post about moving but i forget if it was TO or AWAY from your parents but that clears it up. I totally get you on that though, i'm living at home right now and i feel kind of similar about not feeling comfortable in your own home. Its a bit different for me, but similar enough. Hell my stepdad even sleeps in the living room too! hes always done that so ive always felt like i had to be on eggshells when night time hit. I used to sneak smoking in the backyard back in the day myself, i got caught once when i was in highschool he made me throw all my pieces out which sucked big time. ahhh i love that, art! you should totally show more stuff on here too, at least if you're comfortable and its not stuff you'd wanna sell, i would absolutely love to see any of it 🖤i've dabbled in writing poems and things i planned to make songs, although only recently. I've always wanted to be a musician but my attempts at learning guitar over the years have never ended up lasting long and i try to learn singing but i just dont really think i can. plus i was always afraid of self expression so i never wrote until a few years ago. i still do, because music is so important to me (which is why i did pick 🎤!) and it makes me so happy but yeah. i have 2 shows im headed to in a few months even so im so excited 🥰my day though has been so boring, i mostly played video games and watched youtube videos. watched another episode of a show i've been watching called Silo, which i absolutely love. im so surprised you had room in your tags still after myself lmao, but i do that same thing i always talk in the tags! also i'm giving you tons of hugs and kisses 😘🥰 - 🎤

Hi hi hi ☺️ how are you doing lovely? 🥰