#enough backstory of the backstory. long story short: he was struggling to make rent eventually and was out of vinyls to pawn off

[virsancte]

good days aren't easy to come by

#simblr #ts4 legacy #valentine gen 4 #fun fact for context on why i care so much abt him finally choosing to play the piano on his own #but it's gonna get Long so strap in #basically. the guitar he used to have had been with him since he was like...... my god. probably about 15 #he bought it at a yard sale for pennies from an older woman #it belonged to her late son originally and it wasn't even . supposed to be a part of the sale in the first place. she just took a liking to #devin and figured that really it's better in the hands of someone who would use it than for it to collect dust in her garage forever #and he couldn't really practice at home. his parents... are not exactly the kindest people you've ever seen #he was too afraid of them destroying or throwing it away so he'd sneak off to god knows where and learn how to play it from old #youtube videos on his busted up phone #it quickly became Everything to him. his most prized possession. and it wasn't a shitty guitar either. the son was a professional musician #that's how ellie and devin met in the first place. he was playing at the market she used to sneak out to in the evenings to #and she instantly knew . this boy is going places and really they might as well go together #enough backstory of the backstory. long story short: he was struggling to make rent eventually and was out of vinyls to pawn off #so he had no choice left. it was either that or he'd get kicked out along with his sister. who was still struggling a lot w/ addiction #so he sold it. and it broke him. he's literally just not been the same since losing it #his sister stole him a guitar from a music shop she'd go to sometimes but it just wasn't the same and he had not played an instrument since #until now anyway #still not a guitar. but maybe someday #or he can find his old one and buy it again......... #lmfao if you made it here congrats. you win nothing bc im broke but i do respect you

[downwiththeficness]

In the Bond-Chapter 9

Summary: Lilah often wished she’d never said yes to working with the Gecko brothers—usually while dodging gunfire. At no time was she regretting that decision more than when she’s hanging upside down from the ceiling, staring down a group of hungry culebras and one (1) extremely powerful sun god.

Word Count: ~6,300

Warnings: Blood drinking, Light Smut

A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.

Taglist: @symbiont13

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Lilah wandered the familiar path, her hands stuffed deep into her coat. It was cold enough that she’d lost feeling in her nose about a mile back, and her breath puffed visibly in front of her with every exhale. Snow crunched under her boots, the air crisp and fresh. The sun glinted off the hills that surrounded her, the frozen lake to her left a mirror of ice.

Outside of the occasional woodland creature and one terrifying encounter with a moose, Lilah had been alone for the last three months. She hadn’t left the solace of the cabin except to go on her daily walk around the lake. A five mile trip, it gave her time to think about the only thing she really had to think about—the bond.

As soon as she had gotten unpacked and the internet up and running, Lilah was translating the book. It was slow going, but she had made it through her first read through of the thick tome. She’d had to purchase a second notebook with her weekly groceries, her thin scrawl filling page after page. Going over her notes was her bedtime story, translating new pages was her full time job.

It was in the second reading that Lilah could tell she was going to have some very particular problems. Clearly written by a male and very thoroughly filled with the male perspective, Lilah found herself rolling her eyes several times a day as she gathered more and more context from the words. There were whole pages dedicated to the subservience of the one bonded, the full authority of their word. As she got deeper into the text, Lilah could see why Brasa had been so frustrated with her. She was supposed to be completely tied to him, in his ‘keep and care’. It irked her that she was supposed to give up her entire life for him—that he had been taught that she would, that he fully expected her to.

No, ‘irk’ wasn’t the word. Enraged was how she felt. Lilah had an entire career, was well known and well versed in her craft.  She had a reputation that spanned across the globe. Why should she have to give that up? Although, Lilah was beginning to wonder how she was going to continue to work long term—really long term. After another fifty years, would people even believe she was still Lilah McNamara?

Immortality was not something she ever thought she’d have to consider beyond a theoretical thought experiment. Now, with the possibility right in front of her, Lilah found herself unable to make a decision one way or another. She was under no illusion that she could go back to the way she lived her life before. Soon enough, everyone around her was going to start asking questions.

Brasa checked in with her periodically, usually a text asking how she was. The first time it had happened, Lilah stared at her phone for about three hours before replying ‘I’m fine’ and setting it aside. He hadn’t taken the conversation further that time, and hadn’t done so during any of the following check ins. Lilah never initiated it, but she always replied. That was, until she’d shattered her phone screen about six days ago. A replacement was on its way, but shipping was notoriously slow in the Canadian winter.

As she rounded the final bend towards the cabin, Lilah stopped short and eyed the black SUV sitting next to her own four wheel drive truck (rented). After the moose encounter, she’d started carrying her preferred firearm, holstered on her thigh. Her hand reached for it now. There were several possibilities as to who had tracked her down, but they would have had to be pretty savvy. Lilah had used a card and id that she had made to put in her burn bag, a fresh name and backstory at the ready. No one really knew where she was, not even her partners.

Ducking down, she stepped carefully, wishing the sun didn’t glint so powerfully off the snow. The truck was running, air from the exhaust wandering upwards. The windows were so dark that she doubted she could see through them, even if she got close. The tracks from the wheels led back towards the far end of the property.  Through the trees there was an opening that led towards the main road, about three or four miles away.

Both hands cradling the gun, she flicked off the safety and let her finger rest gently on the trigger. More slow, stalking steps, the snow and ice crunching underneath her boots.  Stopping behind a group of low hedges that demarcated the boundary between the cabin’s yard and the surrounding woods, Lilah waited. Her breaths puffed out in front of her, eyes narrow and focused.

There was no movement in the windows of the cabin, the door was closed and looked like it was still locked.  Not here to rob her. Vaguely, she wondered if Seth had decided to make a visit.  He’d been working on finding a book Brasa had contracted for them to acquire.  From Seth’s near constant complaints, the effort was slow going.  Lilah firmly refused to perform any research on the project, claimed over and over that this was a vacation. Besides, she had another book to take her time and attention.

She grew quickly tired of waiting for something to happen, the feeling in her fingers slowly growing non-existent.  With careful steps, she left the copse of trees and shrubs, making her way into the open.  If push came to shove, she knew the trail and surrounding woods well enough to turn tail and run.

Moving ever closer, Lilah kept her pace slow, kept her gun pointed at the ground, but ready to fire. One step in front of the other, planting her foot before shifting her weight to take the next step. Seth’s voice rumbled in her ear…

Biggest mistake most people make is they get clumsy—fall, and you’re easier to kill.

The SUV shut off. She froze, lifted the barrel an inch or so. The door opened and Brasa stepped out. He was wearing a heavy wool coat, buttoned all the way up to his chin. She spotted his usual leather gloves and tailored slacks. Heavy boots. Gold-rimmed sunglasses. Lilah held her position, unsure.

He closed the door, his shoulders rolling as if to loosen stiff muscles. Lilah remained where she was despite the way her arms were beginning to protest. She watched him take a few steps forward, coming to a stop out of arm’s reach. His shoulders were hunched against the wind the blew lightly around them, hands pushing deep into his pockets.

The cold seeped further into her body, leeching heat from her as she stood, immobile.  Lilah swallowed around a dry throat, her hands cramping a little around the grip of the pistol. She wished like hell she’d worn gloves. The cold metal bit into her skin, a burning sensation that made her think she wouldn’t be able to fire, if necessary.

Brasa looked calm, his mouth pressed into a thin, displeased line. His posture was hunched, arms close to his body. Her eyes narrowed around the line of his ears and the small bit of skin between his jawline and the high collar of his coat. Steam was rising, a phantasmal smoke drifting upwards. Her arms dropped a fraction as she noted the way his flesh was prickled with goosebumps.

Very carefully setting her jaw, Lilah said, “What are you doing here?”

Head tilting to the side, Brasa regarded her for a moment before saying, “You weren’t answering my texts. I worried.”

There it was, as simple as could be—a logical explanation. Lilah felt her shoulders tighten with frustration. Of course it was logical. The logic of it only made her more frustrated, because she couldn’t think of a single explanation as to why he shouldn’t be standing right where he was—not when she thought about it logically.

He let her think in silence for a long time. The steam rising from his skin felt like the only thing moving between them. Lilah struggled to come up with words that would accurately reflect the ire she felt at his arrival.  She was supposed to be taking time to figure things out. She was supposed to be reflecting on what she wanted and how she was going to move forward. She was supposed to be afforded some space.

And yet, beyond that feeling was the understanding that, while Brasa could probably feel that she was physically well, he might hesitate to breach the bond to check in on her after she failed to respond to their typical communication. He had given her as much space as she’d requested, asking for only confirmation of her well being every few days.

That didn’t make Lilah any less pissed off. With a curled lip, she holstered her gun and allowed her stance to relax enough to take the strain off her thighs and arms. Curling her hands into little fists, she shoved them into her pockets to get them out of the cold.

“I’m fine,” she responded, eventually.

“I can see that,” he drawled, his expression shifting into half amusement.

That pissed her off more. She didn’t want him to be amused. Lilah didn’t know how she wanted him to feel, but amusement was not on the list.

“Well,” she quipped, “I guess you don’t have to be worried, so you can head out.”

Brasa’s mouth quirked up on one side, “Have you been reading the book I gave you?”

Lilah sighed, realizing that she wasn’t going to get out of this situation quickly or easily. He was here, and he was going to assure himself of not only her safety, but also her feelings on their bond. Efficient.

“I have,” she edged, “There’s a lot in there that I don’t agree with.”

Lips pulled between his teeth, releasing a second later, Brasa took a minute step forward, “Is that why you stopped answering me?”

The shake of her head was automatic, “I broke my phone, I’ve got another on order.” Eyes glancing behind him, she caught sight of the box on her porch, “Looks like it arrived while I was out.”

Weight moving from side to side, just once, Brasa’s attention left her and went to the trees that surrounded the plot of land the cabin sat on.

“Where do you go?”

She shrugged, “There’s a path that goes around the lake. I walk it in the afternoons.”

This particular afternoon was fading into evening, the sun sinking ever lower towards the horizon. Shadows of the trees around them stretched towards her, bringing colder air in the light that wasn’t yet dying.

Brasa nodded a little distractedly, “Tell me about this disagreement you have with the text.”

Lilah drew in a breath and held it, unsure where to start. She could talk about the way the bond tied them together eternally. She could talk about how she would be asked to be subservient, as the party bonded to him. She could talk about how she couldn’t figure out how to continue her career when the people who might recommend her for work would die long before she would. Instead, another thought took precedence, a niggling little thing that she’d found in a footnote.

“Will I really go crazy if we’re apart too long?”

His mouth opened and closed, pulling up a bit at the sides as if he wanted to laugh, but had caught himself at the last possible second. Lilah thought that she might use the gun holstered at her thigh, if he actually did laugh.

“It is possible,” he began, taking another step forward, “But unlikely.”

The book had been pretty clear. Prolonged separation would lead to symptoms that had read, to her, like psychosis.  Hallucinations, aural and visual, inability to sleep, extreme lack of emotional control, outbursts, convulsions, self-harm, physical aggression without provocation.

“Why is it unlikely?”

Brasa jerked his chin forward, “We’ve been apart for three months. Are you going crazy?”

Sometimes it feels like it, she thought. But no, she was still a rational, thinking being. Again, with the fucking logic.

“No,” she said, eventually.

He shrugged, as if that was all the answer she needed.

“Maybe it hasn’t been long enough,” Lilah commented, more to herself.

“Its been long enough,” he replied, a little heat in his voice.

Eyes falling to the snow on the ground, Lilah lifted her toes in her boots, flexing the muscle as she thought.

“So, what else in the book is wrong?”

Brasa cautiously took another step forward. They were now within a few feet of one another. Lilah could see his boots just outside the focus of her gaze.

“Not wrong,” he corrected gently, “Just unlikely.”

Lifting her eyes to his face, she glared at him, “What else is unlikely?”

He looked as if he was choosing his words carefully, “I don’t know.”

She scoffed, “Well that’s very helpful, Brasa. Thank you.”

For the first time since he’d stepped out of the car, Brasa’s face twisted in anger, a snarl sounding from his chest, “Sarcasm is not needed. We are in the same situation, Lilah. I have the same questions you do.”

Lilah’s frustration bubbled over, her hands flying out in front of her to emphasize her words, “Isn’t this a part of your culture? Didn’t they teach you about it at...at whatever correlates to school for you?”

“Yes, of course,” he shot back, looking surprised that she’d even asked the question.

“Then,” she reasoned slowly, “How do you not know what’s going to happen?”

“Because you are human!” He said loudly, just short of a yell.

“So?” She replied, her voice rising along with his, “Kate’s human. She and Richie—.”

He cut her off, “Richie is Culebra. I am Xibalban. There is a difference.”

“What’s the difference?” Lilah asked, shrilly.

At this, he paused and rolled one shoulder. His voice, when it came, was lower and slower. Controlled. “I am older, stronger. I have walked in the daylight since birth. I am a sun god, Lilah. Now that I have been released from my fealty to Amaru, there is little I cannot do.”

A kind of helpless confusion washed over her, “I don’t know what that means.”

Brasa closed the distance between them, reaching out to grasp her arms above the elbow, “It means that   we must work through this together. I have given you time, but running away will only prolong the inevitable.”

Brows drawing together, she whispered, “What is inevitable?”

“That I am yours and you are mine,” he murmured, “Everything else will follow.”

Rhythm and ritual filled his voice, sending a frisson through her body. Lilah felt physically deflate at the finality of it. This was too much for one person to deal with. It weighed on her, a physical thing that dragged at her feet no matter where she walked.

Face scrunching with the effort to hold back the strange well of emotion she was feeling, Lilah croaked, “How do you know that?”

His expression softened, mouth pursing in empathy. Lilah tried not to feel like a child being comforted. An attempt that failed miserably.

“Because,” he said as he stroked a finger down her cheek, “We are bonded”

She hissed a breath, “You keep saying that, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Brasa gave a small shrug, “For me, this is all the assurance there is.”

Shaking her head, Lilah croaked, “I need more than that.”

He nodded, hands squeezing her elbows, “That will come. In time.”

Jaw clenching, Lilah eyed him, seeing her own reflection in the lenses of his glasses, “And I have plenty of time, don’t I?”

Brasa drew in a deep breath through his nose, his chin tilting down in defeat, “I apologize for not telling you. I thought you might need time to accept it. Accept me.”

That was… a fairly accurate description of what she needed. Lilah’s entire world had shifted on its axis and all she wanted to do was slow everything down so that she could fucking think for two seconds about how she wanted to react to it. Instead, she received hit after hit of new information that so fundamentally altered her worldview that she just couldn’t take anything more.

Warily, she asked, “Is there anything else you’re not telling me?”

He shook his head in the negative, “I don’t think so.”

Her eyes narrowed, “You don’t think so, or you don’t know?”

Brasa paused for a long moment. Lilah watched him think, her attention diverted periodically by the little wisps of steam that were curling around his ears.

“I believe you have all the relevant information I could confidently give you right now.”

How very diplomatic, Lilah thought wryly.

“The book talked about...submission—that I would have to submit to you,” she edged around the subject she most wanted to clear up.

Brasa’s head tilted to the side, “Ah, there is that.”

Lilah blinked, her jaw clenching as she waited for him to continue. She resented the little smile that threatened to bloom on his pretty face, resented that he didn’t appear to be taking it seriously.

“It is mostly cultural. As the elder in the bond, I would typically be tasked with leading our household. I have taken measures to ensure that you have as much choice as possible, But, when we are among my people, they will look to me to make the decisions for us.”

Her mouth thinned, “I don’t think I like that.”

Brasa shrugged, “I cannot change what has been true for centuries.”

She shifted on her feet, uneasy with the information, then, “Am I really going to live forever?”

He breathed in, the rays of the dying sun catching against his skin and illuminating his face in amber and gold, “You will live for a very long time.”

Tears formed, she blinked them away, sniffing, “I don’t think I like that.”

Gloved fingers touching her cheek, he whispered, “In this, I can’t give you a choice. I am sorry.”

The words hung between them. Lilah’s chest clenched in helplessness, unable to make this one decision—the most important decision—in her life. Everything was changing, had changed, and no amount of thinking could take her back to the place she was in a little over a year ago. Still, she struggled with how to move forward in this strange, new world.

“Let’s go inside,” he prompted suddenly, turning her gently to guide her towards the house, “Its cold.”

Lilah rolled her eyes, “Its Canada in January.”

“Still,” he responded, his voice tinged with an odd strain, “The cold is not my preference.”

Lilah supposed that it wouldn’t be. A sun god would naturally prefer fire and heat. She made a mental note to ask him, when they warmed up, how that worked. Was it a moniker? Did he have special sun god powers? Would he show her, if he did?

Walking with her up the stairs, Brasa stumbled a bit, but righted himself almost immediately. She glanced at him sideways, following his gesture towards the lock on the door.  Lilah reached into her pocket and pulled out the key ring for the cabin. A single key hung from a little kitschy wooden maple leaf that swung daintily as she unlocked the door.  

Inside, she pulled off her jacket and scarf and threw them over the back of the couch. The fire she kept going every day was, thankfully, gas. It took little to no effort to get it roaring again, the heat wafting out to fill the room. She stared at it for a few moments, then pushed her hands into her thighs to stand.

Brasa remained near the doorway, unmoving.  His skin looked strangely pale, his jaw set in such an odd way that Lilah felt her brows come together in confusion.

“You okay?” She asked, even as she took a step towards him, her hand outstretched.

He didn’t say anything. Just...stood for another moment, and dropped to the floor in a heavy, unbroken fall. Lilah felt her throat constrict around a shout as she rushed over. She pushed at his body, maneuvering his bulk so that he rested on his back. Tearing off his glasses, Lilah patted his face, trying to rouse him. His skin was ice cold, frigid even as the room began to warm around them. She’d never felt him cold before, not once.

Leaning down, she rested her ear against his chest. Nothing. No breath moved in or out of his body. Shaking, Lilah rose up and gave him a once over. He looked...dead. By all appearances and by all measures of normal functioning, Brasa was laying on the floor of the cabin, dead.

She didn’t know what to do. Lilah had no fucking idea what to do. Shoving her body upwards, she tripped over to the dining room table and grabbed her notebooks, thumbing through the pages. The book contained an entire (mind-numbingly boring) section on formal bonding contracts for major families—there had to be something here about treatment for heat loss. That was her best guess as to what this was.

Desperate for answers, she tore several pages as she went through them, until she found where she’d written out the words ‘magical first aid?’ in the margins. Eyes scanning the pages, Lilah read over the section a few times.  In cases of injury, blood could be used to treat wounds, bonded blood being the most effective. Lilah looked at him over the edge of the page.  He still wasn’t moving.

“Magical first aid, it is, then,” she breathed, setting the notebook on the table and returning to his side.

On her knees, Lilah ran a shaking hand down his chest, unnerved by the cool body beneath the fabric of his shirt. He needed to get warm. She calculated the distance between where he lay and the fire burning merrily in the hearth. This was going to be a real bitch.

It took several minutes of grunting and cursing at how fucking heavy he was, but Lilah managed to get him within a few feet of the fire. She told herself that this was definitely not a stalling tactic. He’d wake up easier if he was warm. Maybe. Possibly.

Hovering once more over his lifeless body, Lilah tried to figure out how she was going to do this.  He’d always initiated the blood exchange—the knife...She patted her hands over his pockets, finding the little pocket knife he kept on him. Delicately, she flipped the blade open.

Heart in her throat, Lilah rolled up the sleeve of her arm and pressed it to her skin. Lips peeling back, she tried to force her hand to press harder, to break the skin deep enough that he’d be able to get more than a few drops. Lilah, it turned out, was a bit of a coward.

Feeling her eyes burn angrily, she dropped her arms and looked at him. He was pretty much dead and she couldn’t even give herself a little cut to potentially save his life. The disappointment and self loathing that she was pretty good at keeping at bay rolled over her in an ugly, sad wave. She continued to stare at him, her chest tight. He’d done everything she’d asked him to do—she asked him for secrecy, he gave it. She asked him for time, he gave it. He hadn’t even really asked for her to help him in this moment, and she couldn’t bring herself to give it. Selfish little coward.

Taking a deep breath, Lilah moved a little closer, her eyes catching a very slight movement behind his lids.

“Hey,” she called out, tapping the sides of his face lightly, “Hey. Please wake up.”

He didn’t respond, but his head tilted into her palm as she touched his cheek. His skin felt warmer, that was good. Maybe she wouldn’t have to pull a Buffy after all.

“Brasa,” she urged, “Wake up.”

He turned his head further and inhaled against her palm, his eyes opening to slits of nothing but black. His fangs peeked out from his parted lips, more warmth seeping from his skin. Lilah’s heart beat quickly in her chest, the faint relief at seeing him awake overshadowed by how he wasn’t saying anything. He looked unfocused, half conscious, as he blinked lazily at her.

“Are you okay?” she asked, ducking down a little to catch his eye, “The book says I’m supposed to give you blood if you’re hurt.”

No answer. He looked at her, much as he had done that first night, all soft, tender awe that in any other situation might have been off putting to her. Lilah swallowed and started to pull her hands away from his cheeks. He caught one and yanked hard. Off balance, Lilah fell into his chest with an audible exhale. Before she could make any attempt to right herself, Brasa rolled her beneath him.

In the few times they’d been this close, he had made an effort to keep from putting too much of his weight on her, always allowing her space and leverage to get free if she wanted. This was not the case as he pressed her into the unforgiving floorboards. A quick glance to the knife in her hands, and then it was clattering away. Lilah did her best to keep calm, but his unfamiliar behavior made her cautious. His expression was relaxed, and he didn’t look like he was going to hurt her, but he hadn’t said anything. It was his silence, more than anything, that made her reach out and touch him.

She traced along his jaw with two fingers, searching his eyes for some clue that he knew who she was. Still no words, but he nipped at the pads of her fingers with sharp teeth, smiling a little when she squeaked and pulled them back into the safety of her chest. Dropping to his elbows, he nosed at her neck, inhaling. His chest squished her hands between them, air pushing down into his belly.

“Brasa,” she tried again, “You have to tell me what happened. Are you alright?”

Elbows on either side of her, he kept nuzzling at her neck and beneath her jaw, drawing in deep, hungry breaths. Lilah set her palms to his collarbones and pushed as forcefully as she dared. He rose up marginally, nose tracing over her cheek and over towards her mouth. He breathed her name, kissing her once gently before diving in for a harder, deeper kiss.

Lilah gripped his shoulders, the heavy coat crumpling in her hands. The slingshot of emotions she’d just been through had nothing on the deep seated pleasure she felt as he slid his hands down to her thighs and pulled them up and over his hips so that he could lay more comfortably atop her. His mouth was soft, contrasting with the scrape of stubble on his chin and cheeks.  Lilah moaned quietly as he traced the seam of her lips with his tongue in a slow tease.

Lilah had forgotten how much she liked kissing him in the last three months. She had also forgotten how the sweet taste of venom would color their kisses, how it zinged over her tongue and the inner lining of her lips, leaving them warm and tingling. She had just enough brain power to be relieved that he’d said her name, knew who she was, before all she could focus on was how good he felt against her.

Brasa nipped at her, catching her lower lip on a fang. The skin split open so cleanly that it took the sting of his tongue laving over it for the implications to even register. He sucked on the small wound, eyes closed, a happy little growl rumbling in his chest. Lilah felt herself smile even as he resumed the kiss. He was adorable even while delirious.

They’d practiced some with getting around the sharp points of his fangs, but Lilah had not yet mastered  it.  She felt one prick her tongue as she slid it along his, could taste the blood almost immediately. Above her, Brasa groaned and pulled away for half a breath before he was returning to the kiss and sweeping his own tongue into her mouth eagerly.

He was diligent in gathering every drop of blood, alternating between giving soft little pecks and enticing her into deep searching kisses that left her more than a little lightheaded. And, when she turned  her head to draw in a much needed breath, he mouthed along her jaw and down the column of her throat, sucking hard on the skin at her pulse point.

Lilah carded one hand through the short hair at the back of his head, pulling on it lightly when he placed his teeth against her skin, pausing in question. She tilted her head back to give him more access, arching into the heavy weight of his body.

Under his bulk, Lilah had little to no leverage to move, her body sinking further into the floor. She surprised herself by how much she liked the feeling. His arms wrapped around her securely, pulling her up and into his chest even as he held her down.

He’d grown hard as they kissed, his erection heavy behind the fly of his slacks. Lilah rolled her hips up into it, enjoying the surprised sound of his moan against her neck. He might be the elder in this relationship, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have any power. To prove the point to herself, Lilah swiveled her hips against him in another slow grind, her breath catching when he followed the motion.

Without much more preamble, Brasa sank his teeth into her. She sucked in air, her eyes squeezing closed in response to the pain. The hand in his hair closed to a fist, and he growled. The vibration of it rolled over her, down to her bones. And then the venom was hitting her system. The muscles of her face, her arms, her chest, and legs all began to relax as her heart pumped it through her extremities. Arms flopping onto the floor next to her body, Lilah let out a relieved breath.

He drank greedily from her, his mouth flexing with each swallow. One hand kept her head still for him while the other roamed her body, grabbing handfuls of her hips and ass. Lilah felt her eyes roll back, a kind of wailing moan ripped from her throat as her body bowed up beneath his weight. Brasa shoved his hand underneath her, pulling her up with inhuman strength as he sat back on his heels.

A surge of adrenaline moved through her, giving Lilah enough energy to grip his biceps in an attempt to remain upright. She needn’t have bothered. Brasa let go of his bite, shifted his grip, and pushed to his feet. She dangled helplessly in his arms as he took two steps, dropping heavily onto the couch.

There was a clarity in his gaze when he looked at her, now. She tried to form words, but she felt like she was going to crawl out of her skin. Every brush of her clothes, the heat of the fire at her back, the heat of the male pressed all along her front, even the throbbing ache at her neck—all of it swirled together into one unending loop of feeling that kept her just below the threshold of functioning.

She tried to catch her breath, barely sitting upright, most of her weight leaning on the broad expanse of his chest. Brasa wrapped an arm around her hips, his free hand patting his pockets. Lilah laid her heavy head on his shoulder her hands wandering underneath his coat. Fuck, but she loved the feel of him. All of that strength wrapped up in sinewy muscle and otherwordly heat. She needed more of it.

Rocking a little from side to side, Lilah spread her knees wider to get a little more friction. She could feel how wet she was, her body swollen with the need that was making itself ever more apparent. Fingers curled into his shirt, Lilah ground down on him, eliciting a choked groan.

“The knife,” he bit out, “Where is it?”

Lilah’s head lolled to the side as she flung an arm out, “Somewhere over there.”

She congratulated herself on how coherent that sentence was, especially given how focused she was on getting the angle between them right so that she could have the orgasm her body was desperately asking for. Her hips circled, using the seam of her jeans to drag over her clit. It was so, so good. But, it wasn’t enough to get her there.

Beneath her, Brasa visibly struggled to keep on task. He pulled off his gloves, throwing them to the floor. Then, he was shrugging one arm out of the sleeve of his jacket. Lilah leaned back a little, bracing her hands on his stomach as she gave another experimental shimmy. She whimpered, her chin dropping. Much, much better. At this angle, she could glide over the whole length of him, from the base to where he was straining up towards his waistband.

He hissed, eyes shut, brows together, his hands gripping her hips hard enough that she felt the first bloom of pain. Lilah took advantage of his gasp, kissing him roughly. She sucked his lower lip into her mouth, biting down a little more harshly than she intended. He didn’t seem to mind, if the way his hips jerked up to grind against her was anything to go by.

Pulling away, Brasa held her chin and forced her to look at him, “Took too much. Need to give you some.”

Through her muddled thoughts, Lilah rebelled, “Uh uh, need you first.”

She tried to kiss him again, whining when he leaned away with a shake of his head.

“Blood first, then you can have whatever you want.”

She pouted, trying to dislodge his hands so that she could get at his mouth. When he held her still, when his arm turned to steel as he held her hips immobile, she found herself begging, “Wanna come. Then, blood.”

He chuckled, his voice affectionate and not a little chiding, “If I let you come now, you’re going to pass out.”

At this, Lilah rolled her eyes, “Big talk.”

She, perhaps, knew better than to taunt him. Possibly, it was the venom running rampant through her. Possibly, it was the shock of having him so close after such a long absence. Possibly, Lilah was just the kind of person to goad powerful, immortal beings to get what she wanted. At any rate, she felt her heart miss a beat as he stilled beneath her, his eyes narrow.

With brusque movements, Brasa uncuffed his sleeve and rolled it back, biting into his wrist messily. He guided her to the side, her head turned almost uncomfortably so that she could seal her mouth over the wound.

Like the last time she’d done this, Lilah almost wished she hadn’t. He was so goddamned sweet. Every swallow was tainted with sugar, the aftertaste hinting at copper. Brasa held her there until he was sure she’d stay. And then he leaned over where he’d bitten her and gently laid his teeth over the mark. He didn’t bite, didn’t reopen it. Just laid his teeth there, fangs giving a gentle push.

It took several long seconds for Lilah to realize that he was giving her another dose of venom. When the rise of the second wave began, the first wave having never fully receded, she felt her entire body twitch, nearly unseating her. Eyes closed, everything in her both relaxed and contracted at the same time.

Head tilting back, Lilah let him go, her body fully supported by his arms as he eased her over and to the side. She swallowed, drawing the last bit of him down, a gasp already building in her lungs. She felt nearly lifeless, and too alive at the same time, her limbs out of her control. Pleasure coasting along every neural pathway only to be answered by ecstatic nerves.

Brasa shushed her gently, leaning over her on all fours, “Do you need something, querida?”

Lilah had just enough sense to sneer up at him. He laughed, dropping to one elbow and touching her cheek softly. She tried to lift up to get a kiss, but he turned his hand to hold her down with gentle pressure on her throat. Then, he slid that same hand down the center of her body to rest on her belly.

Mouth next to her ear, he whispered, “Tell me what it is that you want. I will give it to you.”

Lilah struggled to form words, her mind consumed by the feelings crashing over her. She took great, heaving breaths—coffee and caramel. Fuck, but she loved that smell.

He pushed his fingertips beneath the fabric of her shirt, tracing the sensitive skin beneath her belly button. Lilah shuddered, her hands clenching the pillow beneath her head.

A kiss to her cheek, soft and chaste, “Tell me what you want, Lilah. Tell me, so that I can give it to you.”

She writhed. Wordless sounds melted from her lips, tainting the air between them with need. He watched her with a hot gaze, his body still except for the occasional tremor.

“I need,” she rasped, swallowing around a dry throat, “To come. I need it.”

As if a cord within him had snapped beneath the pressure of his patient waiting, Brasa dropped his stance a little and rotated his hand, pushing beneath the waistband of her jeans. Lilah might someday feel shame for how little it took—just the brush of his fingers, really—before she was coming. Arching upwards, her head flung back, her mouth open in a silent scream. It wracked her. It shattered her.

And, before it was even close to over...Lilah lost consciousness.

#from dusk til dawn #from dusk til dawn: the series #Brasa #In the Bond

[is-osana-here-yet]

Comparing Lunar Scythe and Yandere Simulator 1/? : Character Design

This is Luna, her backstory as written by Dev is:

The main character is a girl in her late teens named Luna. Luna is obsessed with an idea; the idea that this world is full of people who don't deserve to live. Murderers, thieves, kidnappers, human traffickers, drug dealers, arms dealers, arsonists, scam artists, identity thieves - Luna desperately wishes she could do something to rid the planet of such people, but she feels like there is nothing she could do that would ever make a difference. At the beginning of the game, Luna dies. As Luna's spirit looks down at her own body, she feels nothing but apathy. She didn't want to live in a world filled with human filth, anyway. That's when Death shows up. Death looks into her soul to determine which afterlife she belongs in, and he is surprised at what he finds within her. He learns that she is free of sin, yet her strongest desire is to take millions of lives. While examining this pale girl clad entirely in black who yearns to kill, Death feels as though he's looking at his own reflection for a moment. Death decides that Luna may be able to serve him a purpose. Instead of sending her soul to the afterlife, Death makes Luna an offer. "I'll bring you back to life, if you agree to bring me human souls." Luna is shocked by his offer. "But I don't want to kill innocent people!" "Then do not kill the innocent," Death replies. "Kill the guilty." "But who are the guilty?" She asks. "That's for you to decide," Death replies. Death is offering her the authority and the power to kill anyone she thinks deserves to die - and she thinks that a LOT of people deserve to die. She doesn't want to come back to life and return to a miserable world filled with criminals, sadists, and psychopaths...but if she had the power to purify this sinful world, she could create a world that she actually wants to live in. And so, Luna accepts the offer, not to become Death, but to become Justice. Death resurrects Luna, gives her a giant scythe, and grants her superhuman powers that become active at midnight. By day, Luna is an ordinary girl who works part-time jobs to scrape by...and by night, she is the judge, jury, and executioner of her city, an agent of death. If Luna does not bring him enough souls, Death will take her life. Luna asks Death how many souls he wants, and what her deadline is. Because Death does not perceive time the same way that mortals do - in terms of seconds, minutes, or hours - he cannot give her a specific date. As he looks upward in contemplation, he notices that the moon is full. And so, he decides that Luna must use the scythe to deliver a specific number of souls to him by the end of the lunar cycle. Hence the name of the game, "Lunar Scythe." (What do you think? Corny?) The game takes place over the course of a year. After each full moon, Death demands more souls by the next full moon. So, Luna has to kill more and more people to meet her quota each month. What Luna doesn't know is that she's not the only dead girl that Death has brought back to life! He has also resurrected other recently deceased girls who each have the capacity to take millions of lives. Every time there is a full moon, Luna will fight another resurrected dead chick wielding a giant energy weapon. The game takes place in 2015, and there are 13 full moons in 2015, meaning Luna will have to face 13 of these enemies in total.

What is Death plotting? Why does he want mortals to gather souls for him? What will happen once Luna has defeated all of the other dead girls?

You'll have to play the game to find out. ^.~

Alex has given her a fairly simple backstory that could easily be expanded on. In the forum he presented this in, he gets some good feedback on her character wise. The people pose questions such as “what is her goal?” and “well this bit doesn’t make sense because .....” 

We already know Dev made Ayano a blank slate, because when he presented Lunar Scythe, he was met with what he saw as “harsh criticism.” However in the forum no one is really that harsh. Most tend to clue in that Alex doesn’t take critique well, and pose their thoughts in ways such as “well think about why she does this, who made her like this...” One of the major problems fans have with Yandere Simulator, is the lack of personality/story for Ayano. One could say Ayano is meant to be a self insert for the player, but the problem is she is legit nothing. A self insert in other games typically has a base story, and the interpretations of a character are formed based on the choices that the player makes. In otome games, Persona 5, Fallout, you can choose dialogue options. It’s up to the player to pick the snarky comment, the kind comment ect... The only way a player could form an interpretation of Ayano is through elimination methods. Do they stab a person? Blackmail? Pair them up with someone else? Either way the only focus on these options is Ayano’s perspective on removing someone from Taro’s life. The player can’t decide why Ayano loves Taro. What kind of person Ayano is. 

I tried my best to make sure that Luna wasn't a Mary Sue. There are a lot of details about Luna that I left out... Luna's younger sister, Stella, was a child genius and a celebrity. Chess grandmaster, master of four instruments, wrote and published a best-selling novel, graduated college, performed surgery - all before the age of 12. Luna was never able to measure up to her little sister in any way, which left her with a horrible inferiority complex. As soon as Stella started pulling in tons of money and making the family famous, her parents practically forgot that Luna existed. Luna tried everything to get her parents' attention - causing trouble at school, wearing bizarre fashion, dying her hair crazy colors - but this only pushed her parents further away. She moved out at age 18, and she hasn't spoken to them since. She doesn't bother reading any news related to her younger sister, preferring to pretend that she doesn't even exist. The goth fashion and dyed hair became a part of her identity after so many years, so she still keeps a little bit of dye in her hair and wears gothic accessories from time to time. Luna started struggling immediately after moving out. She barely graduated high school, she can't make friends easily, she can't hold down a job, and can't afford to pay her rent. She's depressed, miserable, and desperate when she finally dies. Even after her resurrection, she still lacks the qualifications or experience for any full-time job, and has to keep doing lousy part-time jobs to scrape by. She literally has nothing going for her, other than the fact that she gets superpowers for a brief period of time at midnight...then it's back to being a failure at life.

Again, this is very underdeveloped. Why can’t she hold down a job? Doesn’t she learn? Is being depressed just part of her character? Alex refused to give Ayano a backstory, because he decided that if people didn’t like what he wrote for Luna, they wouldn’t like what he wrote for Ayano. Ayano has been given a few backstory prompts, sort of. The biggest being “Ayano can’t feel anything”, however people criticise Ayano’s character because it contradicts the very basis of her, she’s a yandere. It feels like Alex has just recycled the murderous intent from Luna, removed her backstory and stuck it into Ayano. There is no “deredere” to contrast the “yan” side of her, making her boring and dull.

People began saying Luna looks too generic, looks like Ryuko from Kill La Kill, Ruby Rose from RWBY, and Cassie Hack from Hack/Slash. People also though she looked too “edgy”, typical busty goth anime girl. When met with this criticism, Alex went around commissioning different artist to come up with a different design for his character. He asked the forum what they liked best. The designs presented were:

And this, is Ayano’s concept art.

Ayano’s first design shares some similarities to Luna. The red/black palette. Short hair. It seems as though Alex abandoned the original “having a distinct silhouette” and opted for having a plain design. Ayano is not easily recognisable, as she looks like any other Japanese middle school student. In the forum, he is constantly asking for harsh criticism. He says he want to improve the character. He often asks what other people would suggest instead. 

As he’s met continuously with criticism about the practicality of this all, he states:

I'm totally aware of how ridiculously impractical it would be to use a scythe as a weapon...in real life. But this is a video game, where the Rule of Cool is the only rule I need. I'm willing to throw realism and practicality out the window for the sake of having the coolest weapon possible, and to me, that's got to be an energy scythe. An umbrella isn't a practical weapon to use in a fight, either, but that doesn't stop Parasoul. You can argue that Parasoul is using a special fantasy umbrella that shoots projectiles - and, likewise, my character is using a special sci-fi scythe with an energy blade rather than a solid blade, which opens up combat options that a grass-cutting tool does not.

I agree that the costume is impractical, but that doesn't matter to me very much. Once again, I'm willing to completely suspend my disbelief as long as something looks cool enough...or sexy enough. I'd rather have an impractical and cool-looking character than a completely realistic, practical, boring character. With that said, it may be entirely possible for her to be wearing a much more cool-looking outfit than her current corset / skirt combo...but whatever outfit I eventually decide on will definitely not be restrained by practicality. So, what would you suggest for the outfit?

It seems like this is what fuelled Alex to make Ayano so boring. Ayano seems like she’s just a huge “fuck you” to the people that criticised Luna. Ayano is very practical. Very realistic. To the point of boredom. People continually state Luna’s character is boring and too simple, his response:

The reason I wanted to give the protagonist a simple hairstyle is because I haven't been able to get cloth physics or long hair physics working in my game engine. But, of course, that's a personal failing, and shouldn't restrict the character's appearance. So, what would you suggest for the hairstyle?

Having short hair fits with the first design of Ayano. Perhaps his engine still was that bad that he couldn’t get physics working. Personally, I feel like Alex continuing to ask people for suggestions when met with any criticism becomes very passive aggressive. Every single comment is met with that. It comes off as “well if you think it sucks, tell me how I should do it then.” You cannot saying the hair is generic without giving an alternate suggestion according to Alex.

He also gets upset over someone stating there was no reason for having a young white female protagonist. Keep in mind Ayano too, is a young white female protagonist.

What's wrong with having a young, white, female protagonist? If this is a "social justice warrior" thing, I'm definitely not going to argue about that subject in this thread. The costume is my primary concern here.

Alex quickly abandons is old “please critique my work!” rhetoric and writes this rant defending his choices.

About the cleavage, midriff, and legs...well, there is a story-related reason why she desires to dress up in a sexy outfit when she fights, but even if there wasn't a plot-related reason, I'm going to fall back on the Rule of Sexy. I absolutely love sexy-looking femme fatale characters. ...aren't we on...the Skullgirls forum...?...

This goes back to Alex is making a game for himself. A character for himself. He is sexualizing this girl and is lying about having a story related reason for the sexy outfit. He does the same thing with the characters of Yandere Simulator. 

I really hate over-designed characters with too many belts and zippers and random useless accessories hanging off of every limb...but I really don't think my character suffers from that problem. She's got a pretty simple outfit. There are some details, sure, but I don't feel the design approaches the DeviantArt level of ridiculous over-design. Everything about the character's design, however implausible it might seem at first glance, does have a justification. The reason she dyes her hair, the reason Death thought a scythe would suit her best, the reason she wears a sexy outfit - it's all worked into her backstory. Is that what you're talking about? I didn't really purposefully make the game's storyline dark for the sake of being dark - I just made it a story that appeals to me, and dark things happen to appeal to me, so the story came out really, really dark. I guess you could say that my over-abundant enthusiasm for impractical weapons, sexy outfits, and super dark-and-edgy plot elements is totally steering the design and direction of this game. (However, because the game takes place predominantly in LITERALLY dark environments, it may be a good idea to give her a brighter color scheme...) Maybe it's because all of these aspects of her design appeal 100% to my personal tastes, but I just can't imagine that choosing to go with this character design could actually result in "practically no revenue". Is that what you're really suggesting? Or are you just saying that every time I make a decision about a character's appearance, I should treat that decision, no matter how minor, as being a choice that could ruin the game financially? Because that doesn't seem realistic to me, either... Anyway, why even criticize the original design? I'm ready and willing to replace it with one of the new re-designs that I posted. So, please tell me what it is you like / dislike about the NEW designs.

The thread goes into gameplay a little more, and then Alex says this:

I'm starting to think I made this thread a little too soon. I mean, I'm TOTALLY aware that I could never, ever ship a game that plays exactly like that prototype you played. Obviously, the final game won't just be killing sets of 5 dudes over and over. Obviously, the final game won't have that lame death animation. Obviously, the final game won't have a special move that is just spinning in a circle. But since people are getting the wrong idea, I guess it was a mistake to post that prototype and call it a "demo". Maybe I should have called it a "proof of concept". Or maybe I should have called it a "programming test". Or maybe I shouldn't have posted anything at all just yet...

It’s quite similar to the pity party he threw himself when his game was critiqued by Mike Z. Alex posts more designs for his character at this point

We go back to Luna’s goal and backstory, and Alex just keeps stating that she hates bad people and wants to rid the world of them. He states a few times “you have to play the game to find out” A similar tactic used with core plot points in Yandere Simulator.

What I’ve gathered from looking at Luna and Ayano together, Ayano is Luna. Same sadistic side. Lack of empathy. Similar beta designs and motifs. Ayano just had Luna’s backstory removed because Alex didn’t want to face criticism again. 

#yandere simulator #lunar scythe #yansim #yanderedev #yandev #yandere dev #articles