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retroactivebakeries · 1 year

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It is almost five centuries ago, and the girl who will one day be a swordswoman is lying in the red-tinged mud. She can't get up—broken bone? severed tendon? She can't tell. She's yet to cultivate her palate for pain. Her enemy towers over her, a cataphract mailed in screaming steel and poisoned light. His warhammer falls, and it is death, forever death, death unconquered and unconquerable.

"No," says a part of her. She is not even seventeen years old. Her body is mangled and broken, wound piled upon wound piled upon wound. A dull kitchen knife is her only weapon, though she lost that in the mud the second her grip faltered. Her enemy is no thing of this earth. And yet—

"No. It is not death, forever death, death unconquered and unconquerable. It is only a hammer, falling. It is only 'an attack.'"

And the girl understood.

~~~

It is the better part of three centuries ago, as best the swordswoman can reckon, and she is beset on all sides by foes. They are not monsters—just mountain bandits, or highland rebels, as one cares to see it. But they outnumber her by dozens, and even an exceptional swordswoman might struggle against but two opponents of lesser skill.

From in front of her, beside her, behind her they advance, striking from every angle with spears and blades and axes. Others fill the air with arrows, sling stones, firepots. It would be effortless, to parry any single blow. It would be impossible, physically impossible, to defend against them all.

"No," says a part of her.

"You are not outnumbered. You do not face 'multiple' foes. It would be impossible to defend against every attack — but there is no 'every' attack. Only one."

"Oh," the swordswoman said. And it was, in fact, effortless.

~~~

It is eighty years ago, or thereabouts. A coiling spire of stony flesh and verdigrised copper throbs like a tumor on the horizon, coaxed from the earth by spell and sacrifice. It is the tower of a sorcerer-prince, and a birthing place of abominations.

Seven locks of rune-etched metal are opened with her single key. Wretched shapeling beasts, grown by sorcery in vitreous nodules, flee wailing from her, absconding before she even draws her blade. Demons sworn to thousand-year pacts of service find the binding provisions of their agreements unexpectedly severed.

These things dissatisfy the sorcerer-prince. He waxes wroth. He makes signs of power and chants incantations. With a flask of godling's blood, he draws the binding sigil inscribed upon the moon's dark face. With cold fire burning in his eyes, he speaks the secret name of Death. It is a king among curses, all-corrupting, all-consuming, and it falls from his lips upon the swordswoman.

"No," she says, and she turns it aside with her blade.

The sorcerer-prince's brow furrows. How did she even do that?

"Parried it."

But—

"With my sword."

No—

"See, like this."

Stop—

"Well," the swordswoman finally says, "I figured that if I just...looked at it right, and thought about it, and construed your curse as a kind of attack...then I could block it."

That's not how it works at all!

"If you insist," says the swordswoman, shrugging, and decapitates him.

~~~

It is now. It is the end. Death couldn't take the swordswoman, not when she'd spent all her life cutting it up. At times, Death might sidle up to one of her friends, or peer down into a grandchild's crib, and she'd just give it a look. That's all it took, by then.

Heartache couldn't take her, either. Bad things happened to her, and they hurt, and she lived in that hurt, but if it was ever more than she could take...she'd just, move her sword in a way that's difficult to describe. And she'd keep going.

Kingdoms fell, and she kept going. Continents crumbled and sank into the sea. Her planet's star faded and froze. She started carrying a lantern. Universes were torn apart and scattered, until all that had been matter was redistributed in thermodynamic equilibrium. With one exception.

But now it is the end. There is no time left; time is already dead. The swordswoman has outlived reality, but there is simply no further she can go. This is not a thing that can be blocked. This is the absence of anything further to block.

"No," says the girl who will one day be a swordswoman. "This isn't the ending. And even if it was, it's not the ending that matters."

The swordswoman looks back at who she was, at the countless selves she's been between them. She looks forward, at the rapidly contracting point that remains of the future. She grasps the all of linear time in her mind, and sees that it is shaped like a spear.

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faexoxoxoxo · 3 months

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My Love Will Never Die...

Pairing: vampire! geto suguru x fem! reader

Summary: your father was a good man, gullible yes, but still good, so when you receive a letter telling you of his imprisonment, you're left with no choice but to make your way to the Lord's castle, hoping you'd convince him to release your father in exchange for the little gold you have to offer. Pity that's not enough for him...

Warnings: 18+, dubconish, smuttt, breeding, blood drinking...

Sharp wind bites at your skin, carrying with it the promise of frost and cold. Your thin cloak barely shields you against the chill, leaving you shuddering. You had nothing in your heart but hope, hope that your father was alive, hope that his captor would show a shred of mercy and agree to set him free in exchange for what little gold you had to offer.

The woods appeared to have a life of their own, some trees reaching tall while others thick and tangled down below, mist growing thicker as you rode deeper and deeper into the forest, causing your sight to fluctuate between clear and blurry. An eternity seemed to pass before the dense trees gave way, fog lessening to reveal a clearing, and there it was at the center.

The castle stood tall, an ominous, imposing presence. Its twisted spires and sharp black points against the sky as if to pierce the heavens themselves. People in your villagers had long whispered tales of the horrors that lurked within the castle's walls, of the elusive Lords and Ladies that called its dark halls their home.

“...eight, nine, ten…”

Step by step, you counted, trying to push away the fear that threatened to consume you. Dismounting from your trusty steed, pulling its lead rope you slowly nearing the castle gates, the sound of dry leaves crunching underfoot, doing little to ease your already tense nerves.

“Welcome Madam, Master Geto has been expecting you.”

One of the guards standing by the gates greeted, seeing your approaching figure, tone calm and respectful as he opened the large gates, and taking the reins of your horse, gesturing to his companion to take you inside the castle grounds.

Following behind the guard, you couldn't shake off the dread creeping into your bones. He was expecting you? Why? How could this Master Geto have been so certain you would come for your father's aid? And the way that guard spoke as though you were a person of great importance, when you were merely the daughter of a poor village healer…

It was usually dark inside, with only a handful of burning torches lighting your way, the sound of your shoes clanking against the dark marble floor echoed through the stately halls. The elegant surroundings only added to your unease, ornate tapestries and massive statues decorating the area, one sculpture in particular standing out amongst the rest, a black dragon with haunting purple eyes, fangs bared, wings spread wide, as though ready to leap from its pedestal and tear you apart. Subconsciously, you draw your cloak closer, wishing to make yourself invisible.

Reaching a set of grand double doors, the guard in front of you halted. He was nervous. You noticed a slight shift in the burly man's demeanour as he knocked on the door once, twice, and no more. Moments of silence followed before a response finally came from the other side.

“Send her in, Makoto”

The voice was deep and commanding, making you feel small despite not having yet seemed the person it belonged to. The guard, Makoto, instantly opened the doors, ushering you inside, before closing the doors behind you with a deafening thud, causing you to flinch, the reaction earning a chuckle from the man sitting in the room.

“Timid little thing, aren't you?”

“I...I…”

You stood for a moment, unsure of how to respond, taking in your surroundings: shelves lined with more books, tomes and scrolls than you could imagine, and him seated beside the fireplace in a leather armchair clad in the finest black robes, the man you could only assume was the Master of the castle, Lord Geto.

He was not what you imagined, not that there was much to imagine with how little anyone knew of him, but you definitely did not anticipate him possessing a face so handsome even the finest craftsmen couldn't sculpt, raven locks loose and inviting as if waiting for someone to run their hands through it.

But it was his eyes, unlike any you'd ever gazed upon in your life, a deep, haunting violet much like the dragon state; they pierced straight into your soul, making your breath hitch.

“Sit.” He gestures to the chair beside him, a soft smile tugging on his lips watching you do as he says.

“L...Lord Geto…” You begin feeling your heartbeat pick up he made you so nervous... How could someone look so perfect and his voice...it was so smooth and soothing like a sirens song...

“Suguru” he looks at you frowning, the smile now gone, as though you gravely offended him. “You just call me Suguru.”

You froze for a second. He wanted you to call him Suguru. Was that his name? Why? Why? So many questions ran through your mind, but you knew now wasn't the time. “As you wish...Suguru.” It sounded so strange his name on your tongue, but seeing his smile return, you continued, “I received your letter. My father... he's old and sick...I'm sorry, I will pay for his wrongdoings...” Taking out the worn-out bag, you show him the few gold coins inside. This was meant to be your dowry, but now the dreams of ever finding a husband, having children, or a home of your own seemed so far …

“Hmm…” he hums as if sympathetic to your case, but his next words crushed any previous hopes you had. “I'm afraid gold won't make up for the damages your father caused.”

“Then...then what must I do?”

“Perhaps…” There's a glimmer of wickedness in his eyes now as he looks at you. “You could take his place?”

“M...me?” You gasp at his sudden offer “B...but what use could I possibly have...can't you just accept the gold..please…” you pleaded but that only seemed to fuel whatever desire he had of keeping you in place of your father.

“I'm sure we can find something for you to do…” he muses, violet eyes hungrily roaming your body freely, making you squirm in your seat. “Of course I can always have your father hanged for thievery; as you said, he's old, with little ability, no use keeping deadweight alive…”

“No !” You protest, “No, please, I...I'll stay !” There was no way you could stand by and let your father die, not when there was a chance to save him, even if it meant sacrificing yourself…

“Good girl.” Suguru pats your head, his smile widening. You could've sworn you saw a flash of something sharp, fangs? No, that's impossible. Your tired mind was simply playing tricks on you…

~~~

True to his word, Suguru released your father from the dungeons the next morrow. You'd been allowed a brief goodbye before he was sent away, courtesy of the Lord.

After that, you expected to be thrown into the damp cells or at best given a room in the servants quarters; not that there was anything to complain about; these were the terms of your father's life in exchange for you spending yours in captivity. However, to your surprise, you had been given a room in the west wing of the castle, right besides Suguru's.

“You need to stay close to serve me,” he chuckled when asked for the reason. Cold hands patted your head, ruffling your hair in the process. He really seemed to like doing that.

Suguru was a strange captor, never asking you to do harsh tasks; quite the contrary, he was quick to grow agitated whenever you suggested doing anything related to household chores, working in the gardens, cooking meals, or tending to the horses with other servants...

“How many times must I repeat myself? Your only task is serving me.”

But you never want me to do anything! You bite your lips every time, silently screaming in your mind. Serving the Lord was boring. All he asked of you during the day was to sit in his office as he finished the never-ending amount of paperwork on his desk. Occasionally, he'd ask you to fetch him his special wine, and that was it.

Despite his at times odd behaviors, you found Suguru to be charming? others might label you as debauched for finding the man who threatened to kill your father, and now served as your captor attractive, but strangely, you couldn't bring yourself to care, how could anyone be expected to remain impervious when facing someone so...alluring.

To make matters worse, he was so much more than a pretty face. He was gentle and kind; there was the casual teasing and laughing whenever he noticed you getting flustered due to his words, and even that made your heart flip-flop...

It was so easy to get lost in him, but you tried the best to nib the blooming affections at the bud, constantly reminding yourself of the position you had. There was no way Lord Geto Suguru would return your feelings; he was a highborn lord who'd go on to marry a purebred lady of upper-class society. You were a prisoner, lowborn, and insignificant compared to him...

For what felt like a year, you continued living the same daily routine: waking up, getting dressed, drawing Suguru his morning bath, helping him dress, never leaving his side, letting him nuzzle into the crook of your neck. “It calms me,” he claimed, something you never questioned, and as the days went by, you began feeling more and more like a pampered house pet than a prisoner serving their sentence, but then you started to grow homesick missing your father and the garden of herbs you tended to…

~~~

“Suguru” you said one night as you both sat by the fireplace, having finally worked up the courage to ask him, "I...I was thinking, Would it be alright if I visited my father? Not for long, of course, just a few days…I promise I'll return; my village is close by, I just w—”

Suguru's wine glass shattered in his hands, expression growing cold. You flinched at the sound, eyes widening at the sight of blood dripping down his finger. What was happening? You had never seen him react like this before. Sure, there was sternness or chiding whenever you accidentally scalded yourself trying to bake something, but this was completely new... and it terrified you.

“Leave? You wish to leave me?” Suguru rose from the chair, his expression a mixture of anger and disbelief. “I thought you'd just need time to accept me,” he whispered, violet eyes glimmering dangerously as he approached you, and you're not sure if you heard him right. Accept him? What did he mean? You swallowed nervously as he inches closer, your back hitting the smooth wall, his arms on your sides trapping you in place.

“Sugure...” You want to beg, to tell him you regret asking to go home, to promise you'll never ask again. But all that comes out is a broken sob as you feel him dig his fingers into your hips to keep you from moving out of his hold.

His eyes softened. "No, no, hush now...I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…” hands trailing to your face, gently wiping the tears under your eyes. “Always forget how delicate your kind can be...” he sighs, resting his forehead against yours.

You don’t move. Thoughts whirling as you replayed his words in your head. Your kind, your kind, your kind, your kind. You knew you heard him right; he'd said it, but what did that even mean? Suguru was like you, wasn't he? He was human...

He was cold, too cold, always cold…

He didn't eat, always making some sort of excuse to skip meals…but he loved to drink…the special wine he loved, it was red and smelled metallic like…like…blood …

“Nosferatu.” You mumble knowingly, looking into his violet eye.

Every little child had been told the tales of his kind. blood sucking creatures of the night who feasted on mankind, vampires, and Suguru was one of them. The revolution was too much; you could feel yourself losing air, and then you fainted in his arms.

~~~

You wake this time in something soft and velvety. Seeing the faintest flicker of candlelight around as you force your eyes to open. your neck hurts, you feel strange, warm, too warm this wasn't your room; it was…

“You're awake.”

His. Your mind replays the events before Suguru wasn't human; he was a monster, something straight out of the scary bedtime stories your grandmama would tell you...

“Don't hurt me !” You try to back away, to break free of his hold, tears streaming down your face. This wasn't how you envisioned your life ending.

No, no, no, no…

“I won't,” he tries to assure, but you can feel his hands tighten around your waist. His cold lips stop against your pulse point as he licks up and down your neck. “You're mine, my fated, I couldn't hurt you even if I wanted to…”

Fated? What in the world was that? You open your mouth, wanting to scream for help, but all that comes out is a helpless moan... You feel so week, your body was on fire. You needed something, anything, to make it go away....

“If only you knew how painful it was.” His voice is a drug, intoxicating, but if you take too much, you'll die. Large hands gently rub your thighs, making you shake. “Denying myself of claiming you when I first set eyes on you...so fucking hard, but then you say you want to go back...” he laughs, not the usually warm ones that make your heart flutter. No, this one was cold. Sending shivers down your spine...

“No more waiting”

You let out a squeak as he pushes you into the mattress, moving himself to face you now. Violet eyes shining with hunger, and desire...

“Suguru–” he slams his mouth on yours, fully intending on muffling whatever protests you have. His tongue was rough and cruel as he filled your mouth, only pulling away to rip your dress off, leaving you bare for him, hungry eyes taking in every little detail of your body as he strips himself off his dark robes. Why was he so beautiful ? His face, his toned muscles, his... oh, so big, there's no way that'll fit. You want to run and hide, shrink into nothing so he can't find you...

“my perfect love” he coos lips again on your neck slowly trailing kisses, down to body until he's reached the place you no man has ever seen. you want to squeeze your thighs shut to tell him not to look, but you can't, not with the firm grip he has on you legs...

“This is mine,” he takes a long lick, burying his nose into your wetness, inhaling your smell. “My pussy,” he groans into you, “mine to breed.” His long fingers move now, rubbing against your bundle of nerves as he greedily laps at your juices, this... this was what you needed to stop the burning in your core. You feel yourself shake, hips rocking into Suguru's face, hands making their way to his scalp, pulling him closer. You need it, need more, so close...then you fall over the edge; too much, too much, and he's drinking it all up...

Pulling away, he gives you a mischievous grin showing off his fangs, as he comes back up to kiss your lips so you can taste yourself on his tongue, rocking his hips so you can feel how hard he is, how much you turn him on...

“Please, please, Suguru, please...” You're not sure what you're begging for, mind too foggy to comprehend anything. All your senses consumed by Suguru, his touch, his smell, you want him to make the burning ache go away...

“My sweet love,” he coos, kissing your forehead, hips still rutting into your stomach, “we'll be forever bound after this, as it was always meant to be...” he grins, love drunk eyes focused on you a feral gleam in them, and for a split second, the logical part of your mind returns, but it was too late now...He'd wrapped your legs around his waist one hand holding on to yours and the other moving down to gide himself into your virgin cunt.

You screamed at the foreign feeling, clawing at his back, he was tearing you open, filling your insides, it hurt so bad you didn't want it anymore...

“Shhhh you can take it,” he kisses you again, “my good girl” You feel him move gentle and slow, but the moment he hears you moan, he takes it as a sign to fuck you hard. It makes your head spin. He's so, so deep, you can feel him hitting all the right spots inside, making you see stars...

“Thought about breaking your legs when you said you wanted to leave,” Suguru growls into your neck, his sharp teeth scraping the bruised skin he'd bitten during your unconscious state. “But this is better,” you gasp as his pace becomes more brutal, deeper and deeper, giving you the feeling that the head of his cock would poke through your stomach. “You'll be my good girl from now on, won't you?” he looks at you, the edge of his mouth quirking into a sly smirk as if daring you to challenge him.

“Yes, yes...” you nod, the feeling of his fingers pushing on your already sensitive clit making you cum for the second time, toes curling as you cling on to Suguru, who moans at the feeling of your pussy walls fluttering around him sucking at him harder. "You'll look so perfect swollen with my seed,” his hands holding yours in a painful grip, thrusts growing sloppy and untimed, “Our own family, f–fuck... you'll never think about leaving me...”

No…no…no push him off…push him off

A tiny voice in your heart shrieked, knowing the consequences of what would happen if this beast successfully fucked his child into you. Any chance of escape gone, you'd forever be a prisoner to him…

But it was so hard to act, mind dazed, and vision blurry with fresh tears, tangled into Suguru's arms, whimpering as you felt him fill you up, rope after rope of his thick cum coating your inside, fangs sinking into your neck as you gush around him.

“My pretty love," he purrs, still inside you, “My always and forever.” blood coated lips met yours gentler than before, almost making you melt, thinking maybe just maybe being Suguru's wouldn't be so bad...

A/N - trying to get back into writing longer fics and not just drabbles or headcanons so hope this turned out well...I did a alpha!gojo hc before and vamp!geto now next I'm thinking ghost!Nanami mayhaps...

My ask box is always open if anyone wants to talk (≧ω≦) fr tho come talk to me babes I love to hear from ya'll

likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated <3

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tenebrous-if · 1 month

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LINKS:

🜲 Play the Game

Estimated Release: N/A

🜲 FAQ

🜲 Pinterest

🜲 Character Descriptions

🜲 Family Descriptions

🜲 Map of Arvandor

🜲 Genre(s): Fantasy, Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, and Action/Adventure.

🜲 Rating: Tenebrous is an 18+ Fantasy IF set within the mythical world of Arvandor.

The Kingdom of Aetheria, within the world of Arvandor, is a nation ripe with history. King Lysander du Aetheria rose up and led the fledgling Aetherian Army against The Forsaken One— Herald of the Abyssal Uprising— and came out victorious when everyone else had failed. With his victory, Lysander placed Aetheria as one of the key pillars of keeping Arvandor safe; allowing for peace to reign over the continent for centuries.

Peace, however, was never meant to last.

The Order of Netheron, Followers of The Forsaken One, had captured you at the tender age of fifteen, holding you captive for a decade within a tower only labeled as “The Spire”. All due to their wish of resurrecting their fallen deity— something that they believe could only be accomplished by using the blood of King Lysander’s descendants; it was a ritual that didn’t go as planned— one that did bring back their deity, but only for your eyes and ears only; the both of you attached to the other in a way that probably wasn’t intended.

And that’s how you spent the last decade of your life… Growing used to the presence that now appears whenever the time calls for it. It isn’t until your twenty-fifth year that you’re finally found and taken back to Aetheria, to everything you had long thought you’d lost.

Your time in the sun, however, was short-lived as the tidings of an even darker uprising was beginning to grow— one that threatens to demolish everything and everyone.

Can you figure out how to save your home?

🜲 Create your Aetherian Royal:

Name/Nickname

Gender [Male, Female, or Non-Binary]

Appearance

Hobbies

Personality [Mainly involving unique reactions to certain situations— the MC is semi-set in some ways]

🜲 Romance 1 of 4 potential love interests— each offering their own unique experience within the story and how the world at large will react to the burgeoning relationship.

🜲 Bond with your family after being apart for so long. They have missed you a great deal. [The MC is a middle child.]

🜲 Harness the magic that flows through your veins due to the gift of your blood.

🜲 Choose from a variety of skill sets that your MC may be able to acquire. [Note: This means you can choose something to specialize in, instead of having to constantly choose between being a diplomat or warrior. You can instead choose to be a swordsman while also focusing on the art of diplomacy.]

🜲 Build a codex from the various interactions that you can have throughout your story— from places, to people, to old legends that have tested the passage of time within Arvandor.

Astorian/Astoria du Aerilon: The Heir to Aerilon, and the person that was your betrothed from the time you were seven until your disappearance. Astorian/Astoria spent every winter with you, and you every summer with them, in hopes that a union between the both of you would bring your countries together. You remember many things from that time of your life: their warm laugh, brazen attitude, arrogant smirk, and their inability to stay still for long. Meeting them again? It simply proves how much can change in a decade. [Can choose to have been in an almost relationship with them or still rivals.]

William/Wilhelmina du Arvandor: A recent addition to the Holy Order, who has an iron-clad need to help and be of assistance to anyone that may require it. Being a Paladin has been something they’ve strived towards for the last eight years of their life; training being second to nothing. It’s simply a mere coincidence, or the Divine’s Will, that their first major mission was to rid Arvandor of the last dregs of Netheron… A mission that brought them to The Spire, with a small band of warriors, to carry out that very task— wherein they find the Lost Heir of Aetheria. You.

Gabriel/Gabrielle Adair: Being renowned within the arcane arts, having achieved the rank of High Mage within the Aetherian Institute of Magic, it’s of little surprise that the royal family of Aetheria would call on someone with their skill set— if it weren’t for the scandal that still plagues them. You’re not sure what could have been so bad that would force them to retreat within themself like they have, especially if your parents had seen them fit enough to tutor you, but it’s obviously something that weighs heavily upon them. Will it be possible to wrangle out the secrets of their past when you’re still trying to figure out your own gift?

Ilyran/Ilyria Caelestis: The Forsaken One, an individual that’s visible only to your eyes from a ritual gone wrong. There isn’t much you can glean from them, after all you can only take what they say with a grain of salt, but the shadows that lurk within their eyes has nothing to do with the darkness that now lives within them. It’s hard sometimes to look at what they’ve become when you’ve seen what they were in Old Texts, when they weren’t the Forsaken One, weren’t the Divine’s Disgrace… When they were simply Ilyran/Ilyria Caelestis, High Priest/Priestess of the Holy Order.

#tenebrous if #choice of games #hosted games #interactive novel #interactive fiction #wip #work in progress #high fantasy #romance #royalty

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