#He's a vampire and vampire's are usually seen as undead so I felt it was fitting

[glow-in-the-dark-death]

Don’t know if you take writing prompts so if you don’t feel free to ignore this I have an idea for a dcxdp crossover ghost hunger au ( but only if you want otherwise it’s just Danny being able to eat anything and everything literally )ghost prince Danny au Redeemed Vlad au Vlad x Maddie x jack 

 Halfas were mistaken for a lot of things in mythology and being very rare they were often considered the “special ones” of whatever species they were mistaken for and the last halfa before Vlad was the one that inspired the novel of Dracula Yes there are vampires, but the one from the story of Dracula was not a vampire

Anyway, Danny trying to hide from the GIW decides to lean in on the mistaken identity, and what better city to do that in then Gotham, the one rumored to have monsters already patrolling its streets anyway Danny, gets mistaken for a vampire and Danny decides to roll with it setting up shop in an abandoned cathedral while trying to get the undead of Gotham back into the zone ( Grundy, the talons, Jason, and possibly a few others)

And Vlad occasionally has him going to galas for business (and practice for when Danny is the ghost king ) and of course, Danny continues the vampire act there too tone down, but still enough to give off an otherworldly vibe

I love this idea! I think I've only ever seen one other story about fake vampire Danny.

I'm not really able to write an actual story with world building or anything nice like that (trust me I've tried not pretty🫠😆), my stuff is usually just gibberish that I clean up a bit before posting, so I'm really sorry if you wanted an actual mini story.

~

But I'll try to do a little prompt!

~

Tell Me What I Am

There had been some odd rumors going around Gotham.

Those who were more sensitive said that the dead becoming aware, most didn't pay much truth to all that was being said.

Still everyone was more alert feeling like the entirety of Gotham was in the presence of something Other.

~

Jason didn't enjoy going to the galas when he was young and now as the recent 'No Longer Dead Wayne Child" he was forced to go once again.

He looked around trying to avoid all the rich snobs that were trying to push their daughters practically into his arms

He snorted at his thoughts, "Very much not my type."

Distracted he bumped into someone and oh-speaking of his type.

~

Danny didn't mean to bump into someone especially the guest of honor of the gala but it had been a while since he was able to properly eat something that actual filled him up and not just distracted his mind a bit before it came back,

So forgive him for being distracted and-

oh

oh?

Oh!

"You smell divine" he mumbled in between his suddenly overly sharp teeth

"..Wha-Thanks I guess?"

Danny's foggy mind suddenly snapped back into sharp focus once he felt Vlad call for him.

He quickly fled from the man

' Shit I almost bit him what the hell! '

~

Jason thought back to the night of the gala

"Hey B, do the Masters seem...odd to you?"

Bruce glance up from his work

"Did something happen?"

He thought about the sharp fangs suddenly in the young man's mouth alongside his comment feeling almost like prey under his intense gaze that pinned him in place with the sheer hunger and want in them.

How the older man pulled him away but not before Jason saw his eyes flash red for barely a second.

"....Maybe."

~

Just an Idea

Hope this was to your taste Anon!

[smilesheartshugs]

Halloween AU pt.2

A continuation of:

Tim centric

It’s been four months since his parents were last home. About a month since he ran out of food. Three days ago the water faucets stopped working. Good news! His parents should be home soon! They promised they’d be home for his birthday! It’s his birthday tomorrow so his parents must be home soon! Until then he’ll wait in his safe spot. Years ago he had found a hollowed out section of wall in his closet. He can hear everything in the house from that spot. It’s also the warmest spot in the house. Especially when he moves the boxes to block the draft from entering his little budding spot. With the heater broken durning the unusually cold weather, the isolation of the walls keep his little hiddy hole warm. With nothing else to distract himself from his thirst and hunger, he might as well take a nap until his parents return home.

When Tim wakes up he’s face to face with his own body. Fear and confusion runs through him. What is he going to do when his parents get home?

He fazes through everything instead of touching it. At least he doesn’t feel hungry any more.

It’s another two months before his parents return home. With that time was able to practice picking things up and interact with the tangible world. If he didn’t know he was dead he would think he was still apart of the living.

After helping his parents unpack the first thing he says is “I died while you where away”

“Don’t be ridiculous Timothy you’re just fine. Obviously you’re standing right here” his mother responds

“No im a ghost!” Tim insisted

“There’s no such thing as ghost sport cease this game at once” his father answers

“No really my body is in my closet!”

The family argues back and forth for a bit which Jack and Janet believing Tim to be playing a game. They angrily look in his closet only to not see his body. After all it’s in the hidden hiddy hole in the very back behind some of the boxes. His parents leave before time could move the boxes out of the way. His body is certainly worse for wear. Areas have puffed up in some spots while other areas of flesh has melted away. When he first woke up after dieing his body only looked like it was asleep, now it looks like it belongs in a zombie movie.

Three years later

Jack and Janet are disappointed that Tim hasn’t grown any, he makes a shrimp ten year old. Tim has stopped insisting that he’s dead. The creative punishment his parents dish out has long made him stop wanting to prove his death.

Tim still checks on what’s left of his body, it’s mostly bone now, but it’s proof he’s not crazy and that he really did die. He watched as his flesh slowly rotted away.

He’s made friends with the Waynes, they think he’s a normal human boy, all be it a bit small. He learns that other undead creatures exist, as well as other hunting beings. Jason is another undead, though he got to keep his original body. He was murdered by a clown about a year after Bruce took him in. No one has seen the clown since then though. Tim suspects that the clown may have been one of the goul’s first meals that the werbat provided. That would explain why Jason was so quick to forgive Bruce and why the clown hasn’t been seen again.

Jason brings a lot of raw meat for his school lunches, usually beef or lamb. Though recently it’s been a lot more lamb than cow, Tim wonders why that’s the case.

One day Jason drags Tim back to Wayne manor under the guise of studying for their upcoming test together. Tim was quick to bond with the rest of the family. He’s felt more at home here than he’s ever felt back in drake manner. It doesn’t take long until Tim becomes a regular guest at Wayne manor.

Even though he doesn’t need to eat, Tim never turns down a meal. In fact, he’s almost always snacking on something. Even on those cardboard cookies no one likes. Well it might be more accurate to say he doesn’t physically need to eat. He gets anxious if he hasn’t had any thing to eat for a while. It’s nice of the Wayne’s to bring him all these extra snacks though!

Two years later

Tim is a regular fixture in Wayne manor. After finding out how often his parents are away they insisted that he’d stay with them.

This brings us to the current problem. Cass needs to cast a protection charm on the manner, a ward agent an evil cult. Unfortunately there’s one ingredient that Cass can’t get her hands on.

“A bone of an unburied one freely given.”

What this means is that she needs a bone of someone who hasn’t had a funeral, which means she can’t just buy one off of a donated body. Stupid old spells with stupid specific unwritten rules that make more sense or the time period it was written in and not modern day. She also can’t look for lost hikers in the woods because they can’t give consent to being in the spell.

But Tim could help! He’s never had a funeral, and he’s here to give his consent for using his bones! It’s a win win!

While the older Wayne’s were trying to figure out how the spell would work with some from if substitute Tim convinces Jason to come help him get something from his bedroom back in drake manor.

“So what are we grabbing baby bird?” Jason asks Tim

“You’ll see when we get there” Tim replies. He’s learned that he can’t convince people he’s dead. He learned that the hard way.

“Okay okay but why am I bringing a box again?”

“My boxes are all stained”

Tim brings Jason to his closet where he moves those old boxes out of the way.

“Baby bird what is this?” Jason asks a little freak out about the skeleton in the closet.

“The missing ingredient for cass’s spell!” Tim answers cheerfully.

“Tim, we can’t use this with out their permission, why do you have a corps in your closet?” Jason is freaking out that there’s a dead person in the baby bird’s closet and he doesn’t know how it got there.

“No im giving you permission to use it!”

“Tim you can’t give permission for someone else’s body”

“No! Jason you don’t understand! I’m giving you permission to use it!” Tim has frustration tears in his eyes.

That’s how Jason found out that his baby bird was dead, be the looks of it he’s been dead for a while.

“Now help me bring it to Cass?”

[imahinatjon]

Vampires and their Spawn

Dazai, Nikolai and Jouno.

It's been a while since I've written anything, I'll put my notes on that at the end, for now, enjoy some Vampire Lords while you play the part of their lovely vampire spawn.

Some dark themes at some point I guess.

Dazai

• I can imagine that, as a vampire, he's kinda useless in terms of being a vampire lord. Like, he's still Dazai, so he's still intelligent and sort of charming in his own way, quick thinker, all the usual, I won't drown you with the details.

• But I imagine his ability - no longer human - translates over to vampirism.

• If he were a spawn, this would be great! He couldn't be compelled like others. But he's not, he's a vampire lord, he cannot magically compel others, he can't change forms, he can't... anything cool or dangerous is off the table really.

• Expect for turning people - he can still turn others into his vampire spawn, not that he's really felt the need.

• Being a vampire means being able to roam freely only during the night, or sometimes on a particularly cloudy day.

• But that's probably the only reason he met you. His damned curse let him meet the most beautiful warm blooded, living person he'd ever seen.

• Your life wasn't difficult to infiltrate, for dazai anyway. Any other person might have had a hard time. But not this guy!

• The how's and the whys are all irrelevant now- facts of the past. All that's necessary to know, is that you became his vampire spawn.

• Not the first, but the only one at current. You never asked what happened to the one or ones before you, and he never told you (but you could probably guess)

• He doesn't treat you any differently from normal just because your now his spawn.

• Your in a relationship as healthy as a relationship with Dazai can be.

• He can't compell you and has no actual control over anything you do, so he has no need to worry that your not genuine, doesn't have to worry that your staying around against your own free will. He's content.

• Just worried.

• More for your safety than anything, you may be undead and permenantly by his side, but you could still die.

• As a result, he perfers you stay away from him in areas that are too public.

• If it's like a dark quiet park with barely any people there, or a really obscure unheard of restaurant, or even a tiny only movie theatre that no one goes to anymore - then its great! He likes having dates and stuff in places like these.

• He just won't take you anywhere with a lot of people incase someone spots you and connects the dots

• Overall - he's not controlling, obsessive, scary or even remotely threatening, he's just a little cautious.

• This... is not a pleasant experience. At first anyway.

Nikolai

• Nikolai is a not so busy, busy guy. And isn't interested in serious romantic relationships, he's a vampire lord with no spawn and no intention to take any spawn.

• Claims he has no need for them. And he doesn't, I mean, his ability is pretty damn cool, and super useful, so that's that.

• How you became his spawn though? Totally an accident.

• You were someone he thought was hot, and someone he occasionally engaged in acrivities with. It was a mutually beneficial thing no harm was being done.

• Until he got a little too adventurous and bit you. It happened on occasion, and was typically fine, but he went too far and ended up turning you instead of just taking a little blood.

• He doesn't know how because that isn't what he intended, he didn't even recognise he was doing it until he realised you felt cold, but was very much still alive and moving about.

• It lead to a whole fight and everything - a massive argument and you didn't see eachother for months. You were understandably annoyed that he turned you.

• He just thought it was funny.

• I mean - he wasn't thrilled either, but like, it was kinda funny.

• Then he realised that he could essentially feel where you were all the time. That got old after a while though, as did avoiding you (technically you were avoiding him)

• So he approaches you. He's not really into the whole serious conversation, but indulges you nonetheless and listens to what you have to say.

• And in turn he tells you it was an accident.

• You leave on slightly better terms and go back to your old routine. Though now it feels slightly different.

• He doesn't realise he's doing it until its too late and he's talking you out on nice dates and looking out for you more often and asking how your day was - and of course, seeing you for more than just the benefits.

• The realisation was not a good one for him and he 100% tried to kill you over it.

• News flash - you survived and begun avoiding him again. Which honestly hurt him way more than killing you would have.

• Don't worry for too long though, after about a year or so, he'll settle down, it's just a matter of wether or not your willing to let him back into your life and potentially have a more serious relationship with him after everything he did.

• If you choose a relationship, he's actually sweet - doesn't use his powers on you unless your in imminent danger of literal death. Also very attentive and gives you basically anything you ask for, even if he has to steal it.

Jouno

• If you'd rather not, we'll now you have an insane stalker who can literally sniff you out like a bloodhound. It's not fun, and the only assurance you really have is that he won't hurt you and will always keep a distance.

• He'd be a scary vampire.

• He's scary enough as a normal human, as a member of the hunting dogs.

• But a vampire lord?

• He's not knowingly a bad guy - let's put it like that.

• Teruko is the only reason the two of you met. It took her a lot of convincing to even get him to agree to date anyone (he seemed tense and was being annoying. She thought he could do with going out and having a good time, a little relaxation, a little distraction, and thought a date was the perfect idea, but ovbiously she wasnt gonna go)

• When he meets you, he's all smiles, extremely pleasant, seemingly caring, AND he has some sort of job in law enforcement? He doesn't tell you what he does at said job, bit he presents as the perfect guy.

• If perhaps a little distant. See, he's good at putting up that act, but if you pay just the right amount of attention, and look closely enough, he's not entirely genuine. Not honest.

• You personally think it's because he's not interested, and your more than happy to leave it at that. It was still a pleasant time. And you weren't really looking for anything particular anyway.

• So it surprised you when he called and arranged to meet you again. He didn't really ask, more so just told you where he was gonna be.

• Still, you turned up.

• It's like this for a while. He's just enjoying your life presence, and it buds from there. He never tells you he's a vampire, he wants you to figure it out for yourself.

• He leaves little hints.

• He makes sure you notice how cold his skin is, he ensures that at some point (probably after a few months) he lays with you and has your head resting on his chest precisely where you should hear a heartbeat - your not going to hear anything, and it will all leave you questioning.

• Especially when his teeth, that are just that tad bit too sharp brush across your neck, surprising you and worrying you a little - why are his teeth so sharp?

• You don't believe in vampires, or didn't anyway. They couldn't have been real. But then he bit you, not enough to actually draw blood, but enough to let you know that he could, if he wanted.

• Of course it scared you, but he'd worked your trust at this point, so you weren't necessarily afraid of him.

• You looked to him, and though he couldn't see you, he could hear your heart rate pick up rapidly, before slowing back down to, only a slightly worried pace.

• And then you let him drink from you.

• That's how it was, for years. He cared about you, sure, he was more than happy to be in some sort of relationship with you, definitely, but it wasn't ever meant to go that far. It was just... well, your blood was not the only thing about you he found thoroughly enticing.

• Still, he kept you around, alive, for a few years until he eventually asked if you'll spend an Eternity with him, if you'll become his spawn.

• If you didn't agree - then the relationship was over. He wanted something more permenant with you than the fleeting moment that was a simple humans life time.

• If you agreed - well, he was quick to turn you. He told you about all the drawbacks, and made sure you understood - you were stronger and better, but you couldn't go out in direct sunlight, and would need to feed on blood.

• And then you were his for an Eternity.

• He was definitely controlling, definitely wanted to know where you were all the time. And definately used his powers on you.

• Granted that was on a very rare occasion and only happened when you put yourself in danger or someone else put you in danger.

• He hadn't noticed as much before, but he definatly noticed a lot more about you after he turned you, and ultimately determined you weren't safe on your own - he was wrong, and you can convince him to give you breathing space, because a bump against the side of a table is not a life threatening injury.

• So, after getting used to having you around permenantly and being his first 'spawn' and by extension serious relationship, he does calm down and leaves you to your own devices most of the time.

• ...by the way, he still never told you what his job was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I am seriously out of practice. I've been ill for over 3 months now and still am currently ill 😅 it'll get better eventually but, there's been that.

That and baldurs gate 3 took over my life

I'll try and get back into writing. This was a warm up.

This hasn't been spell checked! Yet

[chitty-chitty-bang-bang-bang]

“Corpse Groom” (Viago x reader)

Word Count: 1,128 words (sorry that it’s short)

Age restriction: 16+ (improper language)

Tags: angst, hurt/no comfort, a bit of crack (?).

Synopsis: You are paying the toll, for your reckless handling of your relationship with Viago

Author’s note: This is my first fic, so I’m open to constructive criticism!

Part two is here!

_____________________________________________

“Why am I here again?” You said, as two of your boyfriend’s roommates led you up the creaking stairs of their house.

“Silence, mortal.” Vladislav hissed out.

“You know my name, don’t call me ‘mortal’. That’s like if I called you just ‘undead’.” You followed them into a room that you hadn’t seen previously. It had crimson wallpapers with golden ornaments all over them and four portraits of the house residents: Viago, Vlad, Deacon and Petyr.

“We have no more respect for you, mortal. Not after your terrible crime. Sit down.” He pointed at the armchair, that was the only piece of furniture in the room, aside from a wooden podium, like one you’d use at debates.

“Seriously, guys, I don’t think we should be-“ You started, but got cut off.

“Silence!” Deacon yelled, already getting heated. “Let us begin the hearing.”

“The mortal, [full name]-“

“How do you know my full name?”

“Doesn’t matter. You are summoned here, by the vampiric council of Wellington, for crimes against our roommate Viago Von Dorna Schmarten Scheden Heimburg. You are accused of breaking his cold dead heart.” Vlad said in all seriousness. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

There was a long pause, as you collected your thoughts. It was hard to focus, when you are stared down by two very angry vampires. For the first time in a while, you felt unsafe with Viago’s friends.

“I have to say… that my and Viago’s personal life is not your concern. We can work with our own relationship, without outside… ‘help’.” You let out hesitantly.

“So, you’re not denying the allegations?” Deacon gripped the edges of the wooden podium.

“What I’m saying is you should stay out of our business. I don’t think Viago would like it either.”

“We can’t stay out of this. Thanks to you, our eternity is now more miserable than usual. You know how annoying it is to live in a house with a mopey vampire? It’s no joke, you’ve made all of us suffer and now, we will pay you back.” The Romanian man took a menacing step forward, making you lean a bit more into the chair.

“For your crimes against our peaceful domestic environment, you are…” Deacon took a dramatic pause. “Banished from our house and you cannot see or talk to Viago for the next hundred years!” He didn’t have a judge’s hammer, so he just put his fist on the platform instead.

“I’m sorry, what?” Your eyes widened. “In a hundred years I’ll be dead!”

“You don’t know that for sure.” Vlad shrugged.

“There’s no fucking way I’m living ‘till 132.”

“Even better.” Deacon stated. “Case closed. Shoo, human! Shoo!”

“What if I don’t?”

Both vampires started hissing loudly showing off the razor sharp fangs.

“Okay, got it…” You stood up and quickly left the house, mentally scolding your own cowardice.

‘Did it really affect him that much?’ You thought, as memories of your last interaction with Viago flooded back in.

Two weeks ago… Second of March…

You laid on the couch in pyjamas, with your arms tightly wrapped around a certain vampire, who was dressed in your shirt and pyjama pants. It was pretty late, around midnight, and you felt herself starting to drift into sleep, especially since the movie you guys were watching was boring as hell. Fucking “Mamma Mia!”. Though, Viago seemed to be highly invested in the plot, until he felt your grip on him gradually loosen.

“Lieben, you’re asleep?” He asked quietly, so that if you’re actually sleeping, he wouldn’t wake you up.

“Not yet…” You yawned and nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck.

“If you want to sleep, I can go. You have work tomorrow, right?” He turned around to face you.

“No, no… it’s okay. Let’s finish watching the movie.” You rubbed your eyes and tried to be more present.

“Okay.” He smiled and gladly turned back to the screen. ‘Take a chance on me! That's all I ask of you, honey’ sounded from the speakers of the old TV. “Soon we’ll get married like Sophie and Sky. I’ll turn you and we’ll have the whole eternity just for the two of us.” He whispered over the music.

“Oh… really?” Shit, you didn’t mean it to sound so offensive. Sleepiness was taking a toll on your sense of tact.

“Don’t you want to?” Viago turned to look at you, frankly surprised.

You really wanted to lie. You really wanted to tell him, that you’ll gladly marry him and spend the rest of your long ass existence together, but… you couldn’t. That’s not who you were and leading him on would be cruel. It was the time to break the news.

“Viago, I really love you, but… The prospect of eternal life doesn’t really amuse me. I don’t want to be turned into a vampire…”

He fidgeted nervously. “Oh… That’s… That’s okay. You don’t have to be turned into a vampire to marry me. We can still live the way we do…”

“And how would that work? I mean, I would grow old and frail and morbid. I’ll start forgetting things and… deteriorate. Would you really want to see that? Because I wouldn’t want to be like this in front of you. You, who will remain just as young and beautiful as you are now…”

Suddenly, nobody was paying attention to ABBA anymore.

“Then why are you with me?…” He wondered out loud. “Will you just be with me for a while, then leave to find someone human?”

Viago’s brows furrowed in a grimace of panic and discomfort as he fidgeted with the collar of your pyjama shirt on his neck.

“No! No… I-I… I don’t know. I was hoping I’ll figure out where we’re going with this, but I just found myself burying those thoughts so deep in me, that I stopped thinking about it at all. I want to be in the present. I want to be with you right here and right now, not in the future… I-… Please tell me you understand.” You gently cupped his hands in yours, tracing circles into them.

Once again, Viago learned the hard way, that humans belong with other humans. Not with him. He was suffocating you, taking away your precious time that you have so little of. The time, that you’d better spend on someone else. This led nowhere. He had to let you go.

He looked down at your hands and choked out a quiet: “I understand.” before turning into a bat and flying out the window, without even returning your clothes.

The same clothes you now saw lying torn up in the garden, outside Viago’s window, that was closed with embroidered curtains. You sighed heavily.

What a mess…

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Jasper/Alice/Male reader

he feels he belongs in the mosh pit cause he typically goes to the mosh pit at concerts cuase he loves to mosh. Jalice aren't pleased about it

Jalice - Mosh pit

warning : tiny angst, fluff, no use of y/n

masterlist

Info : Thanks for the request have fun reading

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night hung over the festival. The large site near Forks had been set up provisionally. But the lack of comfort did not bother anyone. For everyone it was only important that their favorite band played.

The fans were in a good mood and the musicians were just smashing away. But they got that at the annual several weeks running Forks Music Festival.

The loud music penetrated the ears of the cold creature let him almost go deaf and it almost be too much. But the feeling of feeling the heartbeat of others around him. To somehow feel alive again.

The loud music of the band took him in while he let himself be pushed back and forth in the mosh pit. Always further and further lost in all this and the joy of the music the former human being came back to him.

But even though he felt this need inside of him, this hunger every time he put his hands around the bodies around him for a fraction, it was also the joy that went through him. Finally the festival season was upon us again.

The late summer nights had returned and he and the other creatures could go outside longer at night. Since they went in the summer usually always away in darker areas. But that was now no matter finally he was back here and could not be happier.

Would not there with in the crowd this one smell hanging. Sweetish and yet slightly tart he came to the vampire woke up in him again the sense. Something he could not resist the eyes that became dark black and barely visible in the crowd.

His body that did not move with the same movements as the others moved hungrily towards the bleeding person in the crowd. An elbow had landed on the woman's nose and blood was running from her nose.

Just a small injury in such a large crowd in a mosh pit where people have been injured before. But for the cold creature it was everything. Touching as his finger stretched out to the woman, he suddenly heard two voices in all the crowd.

They seemed familiar to him and yet in his mind the woman's blood seemed all the stronger. He almost had her, would only have to move a little further and then.

But before he could strike, four hands had grabbed him and pulled him out of the crowd at a speed that the people did not notice. ,,Are you still okay? What's gotten into you?" asked Alice who let go of him and the blond Jasper still pressed the common friend of the two against the tree.

He looked at his two beloved ones, saw the worry and something like fear in their eyes.

Although the third of them was newborn and had been for a few weeks, it was still difficult to get used to the new life. ,,Into me? Alice I have lived the moshpit, the music...the people they are good for me" he countered and looked helpfully at Jasper. He had rarely seen their common love Alice so excited, so grown up, so serious.

But Jasper shook his head, his blond curls bobbing, before he said, ,,No, Alice is right, you are dead...you are one of us, a vampire, an undead," before he let him go. Alice sighed even though she didn't have to in her condition.

She closed her eyes for a moment before he intertwined her hand with that of her two lovers. ,,I know it's difficult...that it's all so new and unfamiliar. But you-you are no longer human, my star. You are one of us," she reminded him gently, squeezing his hand lightly. Jasper also gave the other a loving look. The words hit him and yet he knew that they were right. He had chosen the path to be with his two loved ones.

To be with Alice and Jasper. ,,You're right...when I'm ready then...you come with me and we'll go to the mosh pit together" he suggested and saw how the other two agreed Alice seemed to be clearly excited before she said ,,A vampire mosh pit!" she called happily and Jasper couldn't help smiling.

Even if the three vampires had to fight forever with the thirst for blood, there was one thing that would stand against it. The love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[mystra-midnight]

Possession

summary: even if he hadn’t been a vampire, able to hear the wild thundering of her heart and feel the coiling of her muscles as he hovered over her like the cold, dead night, he would have known. he would have seen it in the depths of her fiery eyes.

tags: 18+ only. emotional anguish. brief mentions of rape. brief mentions of abuse. astarion being a respectable horndog. he's also got it bad for his girl: because he needs real love dammit

w/c: 1.2k

a/n: i finally started playing bg3 after waiting and waiting for it to be released and then never having the time. astarion is always my number one. here is a little moment with him and vitani, my bg3 character. but truly it could be any tiefling character or reader.

Panic. 

That was what she had felt the first time she'd awoken to find Astarion staring down at her with those perfectly pointed fangs. It had pooled in the pit of her stomach and festered, burning as she swallowed around the feeling. Vitani had tried to push it down, tried to ignore the way it twisted through her organs like a snake, poisoning her from the inside out, starting where he couldn't see the damage.

Except he knew. Well, no, he suspected.

How could he have known the truth? He was but a stranger then, a predator looking for a meal. Astarion couldn't have possibly known the torment of her past when she refused to breathe life into it by speaking words aloud. He couldn't have known that the scars on her body were from something other than fighting. He couldn't have known that her body had not always belonged to her.

But he'd seen the mirror of his emotions in her demon eyes and had suspected the dark truth. When he'd looked down at her, watching the way she scrunched her eyes shut and refused to watch as he came closer, when he'd looked at how her claws burrowed into the dirt to ground herself, when he'd felt the tension coiled through her blood and watched how she refused to move or breathe, he suspected where her anxiety stemmed from.

At the beginning of his undead life, he acted much the same. But hunger won, and he'd fed. 

She should have told him then, taking the time to explain the feelings his feeding invoked. She should have told him that it brought a long-buried past to the surface of her mind and turned memories into reality. Teeth and tongue, claw and fang— she felt them on her skin again. The bite of the whip as it lashed skin from bone. The taste of a dozen men’s essence.

The memories of those nights were unrelenting, making her feel so small, so helpless. Having him shadowed over her reminded her of how she’d been property to be taken and used. And yet, Vitani had trusted him for reasons she didn’t fully understand even now. And Astarion had almost betrayed that trust— he’d almost lost himself in blood-lust.

And now here they were, in the same situation again.

Except this time, he knew.

Even if he hadn’t been a vampire, able to hear the wild thundering of her heart and feel the coiling of her muscles as he hovered over her like the cold, dead night, he would have known. He would have seen it in the depths of her fiery eyes.

Vitani felt impossibly small, lost in the memories bubbling to the surface of her mind as she lay beneath him. There was a rising panic threatening to choke her. A secret part of her wanted to fight and hide her feelings: to keep him at arm's length.

Breath struggled to feed her starving lungs as she took in the sight of him— beautiful and haunting, untouched by the hands of time. He smelled like bergamot and rosemary, and his lips tasted like brandy when he kissed her. Astarion always seemed to invade her senses, somehow smothering and drowning her while breathing life into her lungs.

Her fingertips touched his cool skin and traced along the points of his ears, eliciting the undead's pleased and quiet growl. But even that sound couldn't soothe her as it usually did. Her skin felt burned beneath the weight of his desires, yet she shivered beneath his ice-cold touch. 

"Sweet flower." His voice was soft, each syllable breathy, as light as air. His lips followed a familiar path along the slope of her neck, where the tips of his fangs caught at her racing pulse. Her body jolted beneath him, pleasure and trepidation painting the whimper that tumbled past her traitorous lips.

Her claws found purchase in his pale skin, but he felt them tremble. Her hips canted, seeking friction, and he caught them in his palms to pin her in place.

"Vitani." His voice was louder this time, though no less captivating.

This time, fiery orbs drew open to find his vermillion stare. His eyes had deepened to blood red and glistened beneath the moonlight. Vitani stared at him, brows drawn together ever so slightly. For a moment, he was tempted to soothe the wrinkles away with the swipe of his thumb, but he was as still as night.

"Astarion?" Her voice shook, quaked beneath the force of her emotions, arousal and lust, hesitation and fear. His expression was soft yet serious as he gazed into her eyes, refusing to let her look away and count the stars, as she so often did to avoid talking about her emotions.

He had learned how she behaved— how she thought and fought. Vitani had a tenacity that rivalled their hellion companion and a magical finesse that made the Wizard of Waterdeep envious. He had also learned what upset, frightened, and excited her.

And through each minute spent in her company, he had ached for this moment. Astarion longed to feel her velvet heat wrapped around his length, for her to give herself to him as he gave himself to her. He wanted to hear her scream his name, to watch her write beneath him, to swallow the breathless moans from her lips. Astarion longed for her, craved her, and coveted her.

But he could not hurt her. 

"I can feel you shaking," he said softly, leaning down to ghost his nose along hers. "We do not need to. A kiss is more than enough for now. We can stop." Even his appetites, the carnal lust that ruled his roost, could not stay satiated on the taste of her lips alone.

Their placement was not unlike the first time: her on her back, him between her thighs. But it was so very different. Clothes had been forfeited in the heat of the moment, now lying haphazardly on the forest floor. She could feel the weight of his erection pressed against her core, the chill that met her heat. And this time, she wanted him more than she could remember wanting anyone, more than she'd wanted her freedom for so many years.

This time, he was not a predator, and she was not prey.

"No," she answered in a whisper.

He was partway through peeling himself from her, the separation of their skin agonizing in his mind, when her thighs tightened around his slim waist, trapping him there. "I don't want you to stop."

The Pale Elf lofted a finely sculpted brow as his undead heart thumped. She canted her hips again, letting his erection press through her slick folds, letting him feel her arousal. With seeking hands, she pulled him down and found his lips with her own. She smelled like nightshade and lavender and tasted like vanilla. And his head swam.

And in that moment, Vitani knew that her body was still not her own. But she was not afraid because it belonged to Astarion— the pale elf who had lived two centuries, who had been possessed, used, and manipulated. Who had been hurt, and who had been broken. They were kindred spirits— opposite sides of the same coin. If ever there was one person who understood the wild racing of her heart and the torment of her thoughts, it was him.

"I'm yours, Astarion."

And as though words had not been enough to prove her devotion, Vitani offered him her throat.

[h50europe]

MERTHUR - BLOODLUST (a Merthur AU where Merlin is a vampire and a sorcerer, living under a roof with Arthur, who knows about his secrets. The prince left the family castle after a fallout with his father, who hates all supernatural creatures. Uther let his demon hunters terrorize the entire town. The friendship between the prince and the vampire stems from the night Arthur left the castle. Wasted, he ended up in a dark alley, where he would almost get killed by a bunch of werecreatures if it weren't for Merlin, who protected him and took him in until he sobered up. Since that night, they have looked after each other and tried to deal with their growing feelings for each other.)

"Holy Christ, you are bleeding!" Worried, Arthur dropped to his knees beside Merlin, who groaned as he applied pressure to the nasty gash in Merlin's side. Not because of the pain, but Arthur smelled delicious. Merlin's eyes focused on the throbbing vein in his friend's neck. Merlin wanted nothing more than to grab him by his silky blond hair and drag his throat to his mouth. Merlin's jaw ached as his fangs snapped free. Arthur's eyes widened. Of course he knew his friend was a vampire. Only, until today he'd never seen him like this. Usually, Merlin was a master in disguising his true identity.

Merlin felt his undead life draining from him as he cast a pleading look at his friend. "Please help me inside."

"Merlin, I..."

"Please."

Arthur never did what Merlin asked, and Merlin never said please. So that was a night of firsts. Arthur's heartbeat thundered in his chest as he grabbed him under his armpits to drag him over the threshold. Merlin could hear it but also smelled the blond's angst.

"Tell me what to do," Arthur said, ready to pull up his sleeve. Another first.

God, this man would die for him. Merlin shook his head. "I would kill you my noble friend in my current state, because you can't stop me from drinking. I would drain you to the very last drop." Shame barely broke through his thirst, as he licked his lower lip, teasing the tip of his fangs with his tongue. "There is blood in the freezer," Merlin whispered.

On his way to the kitchen Arthur almost tripped over his own feet. The artificial glow of the freezer light illuminated his silhouette that was wrapped in a cloud of condensation. Merlin's vision blurred. The next thing he knew, Arthur was shoving a bag of blood into his face. Every instinct in his undead body screamed to drag Arthur down and suck him dry. God, he smelled delicious, the warmth emanating from his body was more than tempting. Compared to his friend the packaged blood smelled like garbage.

Merlin tried to lift his arms. Due to the loss of blood his limbs disobeyed him. Humiliation paired with relief burned in Merlin's chest.

"Sorry, you have to feed me."

Raising one eyebrow, Arthur took the bag of blood, twisted the cap, and placed the nozzle in Merlin's mouth. Starving, Merlin closed his lips over it and also Arthur's fingers and sucked greedily. At the first burst of blood on his tongue, his hands shot up and he grabbed Arthur's wrists like a lifeline, forcing him into a half crouch as he swallowed. Merlin felt the energy flooding back into his body, counteracting the paralyses caused by the immense loss of blood. He didn't realize he was still sucking Arthur's fingers until the blond tried to pull his hand out of the crushing grip.

"Sorry," Merlin muttered, releasing his friend as his sanity returned.

Arthur sat back on his heels. He looked at his hands, unable to meet Merlin's gaze.

"Wanna tell me what happened?" he asked before clenching his jaw, still not looking at the vampire.

Merlin sat up slowly and tugged the ruined vest and shirt out of the way to watch his wound closing. The torn skin changed its color from black to pink and finally white. The scar was barely visible and would have disappeared in a few hours.

"Obviously someone wanted me dead."

"Care to elaborate?" Arthur kept digging.

"I got stabbed by one of your father's man. One of those useless vampire hunters." Merlin made a dismissive gesture.

"How in the world did he know you were a ..."

Arthur trailed off, the unspoken word hanging in the air like the sword of Damocles. To this day, Arthur had never uttered the word vampire in Merlin's presence. Merlin couldn't tell if it was denial or fear that kept him from saying it. Either way, it hurt.

"I bit him."

Arthur's brows shot up to his hairline. "I beg your pardon. You did what? But you told me you don't bite people."

"Well, in his case ... He asked me to," Merlin clarified. Trying not to be insulted as Arthur leaned away from him. Because he didn't want Arthur to see the hurt look on his face, Merlin climbed to his feet, holding on to the wall to keep himself upright. His head swam.

Arthur remained kneeling in front of him. His hands were on his knees. It shouldn't have been sexy, but damn if he didn't look like a servant, his blond unruly hair tickling his forehead, his full lips slightly parted. If he wanted he could unbutton the fly of Merlin's trousers, slide his fingers into the crease of Merlin's boxers and wrap those sinful lips around his...

Merlin shook his head, banishing the bloodlust. Arthur wasn't interested in Merlin sexually, and the vampire decided not to act on his silly crush. He was relieved when Arthur finally stood and walked into the kitchen to toss the empty blood bag into the bin and wash his hands. Any distance he put between them was a blessing.

"Why in the world would anyone ask to be bitten?" Arthur tried to sound curious. Only, the tension in his shoulders betrayed his disgust.

"Because it feels good," Merlin offered.

Arthur gave him a skeptical look in return. "Seriously?"

Merlin snorted, "Dear friend, you are doing a helluva job making me feel like a monster. But then thinking about how easy it had been to tear this asshole apart, I probably deserve to feel like one."

"You could have enchanted him," Arthur suggested.

"Nope. Not with the amount of vervain in his system. I could smell the stank of it. Unfortunately, too late."

Arthur dropped the dish towel next too the sink.

"I don't get it. How could being bitten something worth craving for?"

Merlin sighed. Was he really about to have the vampire equivalent of "the talk" with his oblivious flatmate? Merlin approached Arthur. The moment their eyes locked, the vampire knew that, yes, that was exactly what he was going to do. To be continued...

[rielzero]

Dissociative Amnesia and what it does (Yes this post is also about Astarion)

TRIGGER WARNING: I discuss how Trauma affects your memory and my experience with it.

This post is specifically about amnesia surrounding the self, there is a variant to this type of amnesia that erases the access to a bad memory or collection of memories itself. A quick google search will tell you;

Dissociative amnesia involves not being able to recall information about oneself (not normal forgetting). This amnesia is usually related to a traumatic or stressful event and may be: localized – unable to remember an event or period of time (most common type)

Hi! I have CPTSD, and as a result of a lot of life events I experienced, I have dissociative amnesia. I wrote in detail about my experience with bad memory in a much older post: This one here. I recommend you read it as I'll skip over some things explained in more detail there.

In DND lore, Elves use meditation to recall memories of oneself, they do not require sleep and have different physiology when it comes to rest. Spiritual physiology counts here too, since Elves reincarnate. This lore is explained better on the forgotten realms wiki.

I've seen a lot of posts going over Astarion's line when you ask him about himself after the vampire reveal.. Instead of the magistrate thing he will mention that 200 years of torture leave little to remember.

Now, this- as someone who has cptsd is a thing I recognize very well. If you take in consideration that elves at a certain point meditate memories of their years and eventually past lives- when next you are being tortured and disconnected from your past lives by becoming undead, your most recent memories will be those decades and decades just torture. When you are in a place of misery- you will lose connection to good memories, or distant memories. The worse something is, the more precedent that memory becomes- It's a survival thing. ''This is the bad thing, we must avoid'' and you might relive it at random, without knowing why exactly. Astarion says so himself. What's 39 elf years vs 200 years of being undead and put through pure hell? (Still unclear on what Astarion's actual age is, but I'm not going into that, I had another post for this.)

Please know: This does not mean you have permanent memory loss- you lose attachment and association to good memories. One day can be a nightmare, but something good could also have happened that same week. When you're traumatized by repeated events unfortunately the repetitive ''bad thing'' will be prioritized by your survival instinct and shock you more if you are continuously exposed to it in a dangerous environment. The longer you are in an unsafe environment, the more your association to good things becomes detached. You develop coping mechanisms and behaviors, avoidance, bias. We see this in Astarion and how he treats the player when they meet. He's in a situation he feels incredibly unfamiliar with- so he falls back on daggers and threats. Manipulative charm comes afterwards. His coping mechanisms of course, have been discussed in more detail by others on this platform. Now to the memory thing; from my own experience with randomly remembering stuff once I got out of the ''unsafe'' environment for a long time, once your body feels settled or secure.. Things just come back. Either its a nightmare flashback that you need to process slowly, because you haven't had time for it while you felt unsafe, or it can be the ''good'' or the ''normal'' memories too.

I personally headcanon and believe- that 200 years alone of torture don't necessarily erase ''39'' years of something else. I have been in ''unsafe'' environment for most of my life, since I was a kid. Once I hit 21, when I finally felt safe things just started popping up in my head. Both bad and good. I might not be an immortal long living creature, but I am still having random memories flood back these days.

It's very alienating at times to see your old self through that lens that you often don't recognize that person as someone that was you. Simply because you've outgrown it or you've matured. Your brain has distanced you from it because there was no space to even think of it.

I still experience horrible short term memory and frequent recollective ability malfunction. (Basically I struggle with routines or storing information I have not been able to process thoroughly.) Memory loss happens to me all the time and it is more inconvenient to me than it is to anyone who's annoyed by it..

Now imagine either ending route of Astarion, (Wether spawn or ascended) finally settling down in a place of peace, and he goes and meditates. Sometimes he dreams of torture again, and eventually after a while.. He remembers his parents, he remembers an old friend.. He remembers being bullied at school, he remembers a lover he cheated on.. He just starts remembering his life before the torture. Just bit by bit- very small things. And it's like.. It feels like A completely different person to him.

That's what it was like for me. Sometimes out of nowhere, I will recall something I said, or did in my youth. Something outside of the shitty things I went through. And sometimes I'll remember things that were done to me and realize.. That was wrong, and someone should've said something about it. Sometimes I'll remember something incredibly cringe I did as a kid and just cringe about it again. Eugh. I don't always remember the trauma and only the trauma. I'd remember things outside of it too, just not as frequent.

CPTSD doesn't always ''trigger'' your brain might not associate the memories with anything. They just pop up casually like ''hi! I exist! U feel safe?? WELL NOW-'' It's annoying and distressing sometimes.

Even the color or shape of something might just quietly nudge your mind.. ''Oh hey here's this image'' there's not always telling were it comes from. It might just happen, because.

And it takes time to heal too, remembering is a part of healing. Remembering your past both good and bad. Some people don't heal from it though, and instead dive deeper and deeper into the misery. They feel more unsafe than they did before.

[tea-with-eleni]

Fly to me, little bird, and learn...

Sequel to Invitation to Dinner. Not exactly spoilers, although I don't think more than one person alive or undead has any particularly strong memories of these events. That person is not Volenta Popofsky.

Nyshka and I looked suitable for a formal castle dinner, I decided. Jarek cleaned up well, too, when he wasn’t covered in mud or guts. Poetry looked… I frowned, adjusted some of the jewelry on their horns, then sat back in my seat in the uncanny carriage. They looked as good as they were going to get. It would last until they said something blunt and Nyshka had to kick them in the shins. That was probably the best we could hope for. Vasili had been as helpful as usual and managed to call in a few favors, so we had clothes that were more or less appropriate for the setting, probably. It was a shame the invitation hadn’t mentioned him. He could probably have kept Poetry from sticking their tail in their mouth, again.

“So, place your bets,�� Nyshka said, strumming a few chords on her lute. “Who’s the vampire lord going to eat first? I bet it’s Poetry. We haven’t seen any other tieflings here, they’ve got to taste exotic.”

“Excuse me,” Poetry muttered. “I’m a person, not a wine.” Jarek rolled his eyes.

“I’m still not convinced he’s a vampire,” he said. “You’ve got a pretty good case, love, but he could still be a lich, or a revenant, or something else entirely.” Poetry muttered something about kobolds in a trench coat. Nyshka glared at them both.

“Excuse me,” she said. “He’s obviously a vampire. Volenta agrees with me, so it must be true.” I nodded, not terribly enthusiastically. The dream about teeth and blood flashed through my mind again. “I bet his lady’s a vampire too,” Nyshka added. She grinned at me. “But, she’s been biding her time, waiting for a sexy band of adventurers to come to her castle. The beautiful cleric purifies her undead heart with the love of Lady Fire-hair and she betrays her husband! The land is saved, the cleric and the beautiful vampire are married, and we all live happily ever after.”

I stuck out my tongue. It hadn’t seemed wise to wear our amulets here, even though nobody seemed to know our goddesses. Nyshka didn’t look even a little ashamed. Jarek shook his head. Poetry leaned against the carriage windows and announced that they thought they could see the castle. A few minutes later, the horses pulled us out onto a narrow stone bridge.

The lord of the castle wasn’t immediately waiting for us. That was probably a good sign. An immaculately dressed elf—his steward?—was waiting instead. Jarek and Nyshka led the way to introduce ourselves to him, but froze when they came within about ten feet of the man. They exchanged glances, stepped back, stepped forward again, and I saw Nyshka shudder and struggle to maintain her smile as she approached. The elf looked unconcerned. Actually, I’m not sure his expression changed at all. Was he actually alive, or was he one of the lord’s undead creatures as well? It seemed quite possible.

Then Poetry and I got closer and we heard the screaming too. Dozens, maybe hundreds, of agonized screams. There was pleading, begging, crying — all female. All in elvish. Some cried out to foreign deities for aid, I thought, although it was hard to tell among the cacophony. I felt the blood drain from my face. One look at Poetry confirmed that they heard the din as well. I reached for their hand and swallowed, hard, my throat dry.

I was going to have words with Vasili. He could have warned us.

The dubiously-alive elf led us into the depths of a once beautiful castle. It was still attractive enough, I supposed, as I studied the marble floors and sculptures in the entryway. It was mostly just kind of old and dirty. It looked like maybe the lord of the castle didn’t have many visitors. That was in line with what Vasili said. He made Strahd von Zarovich sound pretty gloomy and introverted. Of course, there was also the possibility that Strahd von Zarovich was a vampire, like Nyshka thought, and he just didn’t want to bother dusting for guests he was just going to eat…

“Thank you, Rahadin,” a woman said. “I will take them from here.” The elf said something, too quietly for even my ears to hear. Maybe Nyshka caught it. I’d have to ask. “We don’t want to keep milord waiting, do we?” The woman said, and the elf bowed. I pulled at Poetry’s arm, trying to see past Jarek. Really, did he have to wear his biggest, fluffiest cloak? It looked good, but made him take up even more space than usual!

Oh. Well. She wasn’t what I expected. I twisted to get a look at Nyshka’s face and couldn’t help but giggle. Jarek had competition for once! Poetry groaned softly. “We’re going to have to hope your sister doesn’t abandon us for Strahd’s lady,” they muttered to me. I nodded. The giggles threatened to turn into nervous laughter and I ducked back behind Jarek and his stupid fluffy cloak again. Maybe it was a good thing he was wearing it after all. It would put a damper on things if I managed to offend the maybe-vampire’s maybe-wife before we even made it to the table. Still assuming, of course, that Vasili was right and we weren’t about to be the main course.

The woman was tall, graceful, and incredibly beautiful. Her skin was darker than anyone I’d seen in Barovia, not drow-grey but a warm dark brown. Her many braids were beaded with gold. Her dress looked too light weight for the Barovian climate, but was made of fine, almost iridescent white fabric. I self consciously smoothed the sash I’d found to dress up my own attire. Mother would have done better on such short notice, but…I looked fine. Lady Gold Heart would forgive me if I looked more like an adventurer than like the equal of this lady. Probably. Hopefully. Gods, I hoped we weren’t about to gravely offend someone.

We were probably going to gravely offend someone.

I resolved to haunt Vasili if I died here. He would more than deserve it.

“Good evening,” the woman said to us. It sounded like she was smiling. “The table is set; milord awaits your presence. Come.” Nyshka curtsied and asked if we had the honor of meeting the lady of the house. The woman gave a low chuckle. “I am Ludmilla Vilisevic,” she said. “Some would call me a lady of Ravenloft. This way, please.”

She lead us towards the distant sounds of organ music. The tune wasn’t one I knew; hardly a surprise. The organ stood at the far end of an elaborate dining room. The table was set for six. A crystal chandelier flickered with candlelight. The musician turned and I frowned. I thought I recognized the profile, but couldn’t say from where. I didn’t know its owner, who could only be Lord Strahd. I would have remembered, and probably sketched, that face. He crossed to the woman and kissed her hand before bowing to us.

“Greetings at long last, my friends,” he said. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, which burned like the massive crackling fire. “Please, sit. Make yourselves comfortable. If anything is not to your satisfaction, do not hesitate to speak.” He gestured towards the place settings. Candelabras on the table burst into life. Nyshka hesitated, then moved to one side of the table with Jarek. Poetry and I took the other side.

My seat put me next to Strahd’s lady, Ludmilla. She nodded politely as she sat. Her eyes, I noticed, were red. Either I was incorrect in my assessment that she wasn’t at least partially drow, or she was less than alive. Would it be impolite to ask? It would definitely be impolite to ask. I decided that it would be better to assume that she could and probably would kill me if I annoyed her. I tried not to stare. Goddess willing, Poetry would think before they spoke. Fortunately, doors opened on one wall before they could jam their tail down their throat. Some kind of arcane servant things entered the room with food, which they placed in front of us. It smelled better than anything I'd tasted since entering this cursed place, but I wasn't sure I was going to be able to eat anything past my nerves.

"Look at me, Volenta," Ludmilla said. Her voice was low, for my ears only. "I won't hurt you. Not unless you ask me.” It was probably also best not to ask how she knew my name. I swallowed hard and met her eyes. She smiled a little. Her lips would have been the envy of the high priestess back home. "Enjoy yourself," she said, gently. "You have his hospitality tonight." I returned her smile. I could trust her. Ludmilla was safe. Nyshka raised an eyebrow at me from across the table, and I shrugged a little helplessly. We were probably doomed, but at least the food smelled good. "May I?" she asked, holding a hand out towards my hair. I smoothed it self consciously, and her smile widened. She pulled off my head band and I felt magic flick at my hair until not a strand lay out of place. She replaced the headband and nodded in some satisfaction. “Perfect,” she said. She handed me my spoon and gestured towards the bowl of soup the invisible servant placed in front of me.

“Or maybe we have to hope you don’t abandon us…” Poetry said. They seemed to be trying not to laugh. I blushed and tried not to notice Ludmilla or her husband watching me eat. I failed, of course. The lord and lady of Ravenloft are impossible to ignore. Lord Strahd whispered something that made Ludmilla laugh. Jarek frowned. “Would your lordship care to share the joke with us?” he said. Nyshka winced a little at his tone, but Lord Strahd only smiled. “I was merely commenting to my lady that it has been some time since any of Miss Volenta’s sort have graced our castle,” he replied. “Had we known such beauty graced the valley, I would have invited you to join us far sooner.” The ruby brooch he wore matched his eyes perfectly. They were precisely the same shade as Ludmilla’s. He scared me still, a little. Nyshka tried to laugh at the comments, to lighten the mood. “Well, our father was a cleric of Lady Fire-hair,” she said. “Barovia doesn’t seem to have any churches of Sune, but we can still represent our goddess.” Lord Strahd raised an eyebrow.

“Perhaps not churches, but… I think I have been looking for servants of your goddess for some time.” He smiled, which did not comfort me at all. It didn’t reach his eyes. He looked at Nyshka much more thoughtfully. What would he do to her?  “He jests,” Ludmilla whispered to me. “I will tell you the tale after dinner.” Her smile was genuine. I tried to return it and she nodded again.

“Was that what you wanted from us, milord?” Nyshka asked. “Although now seems hardly the time to discuss business, your invitation was rather vague. Do you often invite adventurers to dinner?”

“When the adventurers interest me, yes,” Lord Strahd replied. “You and yours interest me greatly. I am always interested in gifted individuals.” Something about his tone put me in mind of the dreams. It wasn’t the same voice, but some of the same dark magic seemed to color it. I tilted my head slightly to Ludmilla. “Does your husband bite?” I asked softly. She stifled a laugh. “You could say that,” she said, tilting her head. I noticed two small scars on her throat, just above the artery. “Don’t let it worry you.”

The meal smelled divine, but I could hardly taste it. The lord had clearly gone to some effort to import the finest foods, probably with the help of the Vistani, but neither he nor his lady seemed to partake of it. They both clearly enjoyed their…I was now increasingly sure it wasn’t wine. I thought about asking Ludmilla outright, but why bother? She and her husband were clearly vampires. I wouldn’t learn anything new by asking. She probably wouldn’t eat us, maybe, if we were lucky, but Strahd and Nyshka spent most of the meal trading banter. I thought Nyshka might actually be enjoying it, even if Jarek started looking kind of anxious partway through the main course. I really hoped that Nyshka wouldn’t manage to goad Lord Strahd into breaking hospitality and attacking.

After dinner, the horrible elf reappeared to usher us up the stairs to a room grand enough for dancing. Strahd somehow managed to beat us there, but his lady took my arm with a smile. Candlelight flickered off the wall as the lord sat back on an ornate throne. He gestured towards a corner, and a selection of instruments began to play themselves. “We may as well turn this into a proper party,” Strahd said with a smile. He stood and, with a bow, asked my sister for a dance. Jarek looked ready to slap him, but Nyshka agreed. I was pretty sure she was going to step on his toes, a lot. Nyshka was a fabulous dancer, which I’m pretty sure was a requirement back home for followers of our goddesses, but she was definitely in a mood to be spiteful. I was distracted enough by the sight that I almost missed Milla asking me for a dance as well. She lead, and it kind of worked. I was about a foot shorter than her, but that wasn’t anything new. I was shorter than most people. After the first dance, Strahd turned his attentions to Jarek. Ludmilla pulled me back towards the stairs as Nyshka egged her husband on. “He won’t miss us,” she assured me. “He’ll send Rahadin to find us if he does. I wanted to show you something.”

Under normal circumstances, following somebody who was definitely a vampire and therefore definitely capable of eating me would have been a terrible idea. But, if I went with her, at least I was only in a room with one vampire capable of eating me. I wasn’t sure that was much of an improvement, but she seemed a lot less terrifying than her husband. Milla led me up a spiral staircase into a small library, or maybe a study. She waved towards the empty hearth and flames burst into life. I cast a light spell on the candelabras and gasped as it became bright enough to make out the beautiful painting hanging over the mantlepiece. It depicted a red-haired woman, not that different from the paintings that hung over father’s altar back home. His paintings were all fanciful, idealized things, though, showing a goddess who rarely blessed her followers with her presence. This was realistic enough that it had to show a real woman, perhaps my age, in an elegant dress.

“Who is this?” I asked. Ludmilla stepped forward and smiled, a little sadly. “Strahd’s first love,” she said. “You’ll appreciate the story. Back before Barovia was…as you see it now, Strahd fell in love with this woman, Tatyana.” She sighed. “Unfortunately, she died at a very young age. Her body was never found, and the mists rose around the valley soon afterwards. Ever since, things have been very…strange. Sometimes, a woman is born who looks more than a little like Tatyana. Truly, more than a little; as far as Strahd can tell, these women bear her soul. He has loved them all, but they have never lived long enough to marry.” I frowned.

“Isn’t he your husband?”

She laughed. “Yes. Surely you of all people understand that a person need not limit themselves to loving only one other soul.” Her eyes sparkled like gems in the light of the fire and my spell. “You’re sweet. A heart can love so many when it isn’t burdened by the need to beat.” She seemed amused by my expression. “Yes. You know what we are.”

“Are you going to bite me?” I asked. Hopefully she hadn’t brought me here to kill me. Ludmilla tilted her head curiously.

“Do you want me to?” she asked. “I don’t have to. But, if you’re asking…” She shrugged. “I could be convinced.” I frowned. No, I didn’t want to be bitten by a vampire. At the same time, if it was Ludmilla, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. She brought me here to tell me about Tatyana, because of course someone like me would be interested in a tragic love story. She hadn’t brought me here to kill me.

“Maybe?” I asked. I looked around and saw two comfortable looking chairs facing the hearth. I claimed one of them and sat down. “I, um…” She knelt beside the chair and took my chin, tilting my head to look me in the eyes again.

“Sweetness,” she said. “I won’t kill you. I know what I’m doing. I wouldn’t kill anyone in Barovia unless I needed to. I don’t see any reason why I need to kill you.” Her touch was cold, but not unpleasantly so. I smiled. She did seem to be telling me the truth. I took a deep breath and leaned a little closer to her.

“I trust you,” I said. She pulled me into her lap and, before I could think, there was a spike of pain. Her fangs pierced my throat. It wasn’t unbearable, but it was startling. Her lips were cool, and of course, I couldn’t feel her breath on my skin. I would have, if she’d been breathing. I felt electrified, like every nerve in my body was on the very highest of alerts. At the same time, I was frozen, immobile, helpless.

It was terrifying. It was exhilarating. Almost too soon, it was also over.

She pulled her head away, but still cradled me in her arms. Her chest was still. The only heartbeat I heard was my own. “There,” she whispered. “That wasn’t so bad. Thank you, sweetness.” I turned a little as I felt control over my limbs return. She smiled at me, stroked the tender, slightly painful wound she left behind. It almost, but didn’t quite, match the one she bore.

“Will I turn into a vampire now?” I asked. I sounded a little rough. I wondered if I was crying. She shook her head, red eyes warm. “No, sweetness,” she said. “I’d need to drain much more than a taste from you for that. You would need my blood as well. Assuming, of course, that I can turn anyone at all. I’ve never tried.”

The prickling pain brought to mind the dreams again. “Did Strahd make you into a vampire?” I asked. She nodded. “He did. I’ll spare you the details. I don’t know who made him, if anyone.” She didn’t seem to hear it, but I thought I heard the laughter from the dream echo through the room. I didn’t recognize the sound as something that belonged to any person I knew. I imagined that I felt the sting of teeth again, not just her fangs but dozens, hundreds, of needle-sharp teeth.

“Come to me,” a voice whispered. “Fly to me, little bird, and learn what you can become…”

I was cold, so cold. Snow whipped around me, driven by a biting wind. The howling sound echoed on the gold-veined marble floors of this place of nightmares, this profane temple to dark gods I did not love. The laughter came from deep within the bowels of this place, drawing me forward, tempting me to risk everything, to give anything, to live and love forever…

“Volenta? Sweetness?” Ludmilla’s voice. She shook me, jarring me out of the vision. “Volenta? Please, heal yourself. You can do that, can’t you? Or — your sister? Should I get her?”

The fire crackled a mere two feet away. This study was warm, safe. Ludmilla looked genuinely frightened. “Are you alright?” she asked. “I — I did not intend to drink so much.” I felt her hand behind my head. I blinked, clearing away the last of the dream.

“I’m fine,” I said. “That…that wasn’t you. I’ve, I’m…” I tried to think how to reassure a vampire that I wasn’t dying of blood loss, that I was hallucinating nightmare gods. Is it even possible to say something like that? Probably not if you wanted to sound sane afterwards. I was pretty sure I wasn’t sane anymore. I had just let the vampire I was trying to reassure bite me, apparently enough that she was worried I was going to die on her.

“Are you sure?” She still sounded worried. “Please heal yourself. Just…just in case. I don’t know what would happen if I managed to kill you like that.” It seemed a strange thing to say, I would be dead, obviously, but I was not in the best place to argue. My fingers felt clumsy as I felt for the bite mark and spoke the healing command. She hissed a little and looked away, but the wound had closed. There was a little blood on my fingers. I stuck them in my mouth to clean them off. The iron tang was unpleasant but grounding. The last of the waking dream faded away. Ludmilla brushed a thumb over the scab and I could see some of the tension drain out of her. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have been more careful.” I shook my head. I felt a little dizzy, but as long as I didn’t need to do anything too acrobatic I wasn’t going to worry about it.

“That wasn’t you,” I repeated. I twisted, reached back for the armchair, hoisted myself back into it. “I don’t know what that was. Barovia isn’t a good place for a cleric, I guess.” Ludmilla smiled a little and shook her head. “No,” she said. “It isn’t.” I looked around at the rest of the room, careful not to turn my head too quickly, as she stood up. A book on one of the shelves caught my eye. Most of the books had embossed titles, or were obviously part of sets. This one was pure black. I opened my mouth to ask about it, but Ludmilla held out a hand to help me to my feet. “We should go back,” she said. “If you’re already struggling with Barovia, I’m not going to wait for Strahd to send Rahadin to find us. That won’t help anything.” I took her hand, and she lead me back down the stairs to where we could still hear the music and the sound of my sister’s laughter.

[nothisis-ridiculous]

XIII

Set years after the end of Baldur's Gate 3, Astarion and Tav meet by chance after years apart. This story follows their meetings every year, on the anniversary of the start of their adventures.

IV-

Tav's finger glided over the smooth glass in her hand; the pads of her finger stopped once she touched the condensation on the glass. Deciding to drink the liquid before it got much warmer, she downed the glass in one long sweep.

 "Is it my company, or is drinking becoming a new vice of yours?" Astarion teased as he took the seat opposite her. 

 His crimson eyes followed the silk tablecloth to the carnation in a vase at the center of the table, the clear liquid within it reflecting the golden candlelight. They traveled up to meet her eyes with a flash of a genuine smile and pointed fangs. Tav felt her smile return to him without her heeding. The coil in her gut tightened as the heat roaring across her face was not from the wine alone.

 "I'm afraid you get the sober Tav this time," she set the glass down carefully and took the chance to look away from him, "and the less… randy version as well."

 His eyes narrowed as he leaned in, "Darling, don't you dare roll over now," Astarion retreated with a glint in his eyes, "unless it's on top of sheets. Yours or mine."

"Incorrigible," she replied peevishly, though the corner of her mouth tilted.

"We don't have to stay here," his voice dipped into that dangerous octave, "we cou-"

That 'smelly' Orc appeared behind him, pulling the spawn's attention from his flirting as he debated with the server over wines. Tav sat back and observed Astarion's animated conversation. He was so confident that he did not even glance at the price menu as he quizzed the Orc about the best or newest vintages on the scene. The vampire fit in so well with the aristocratic crowd- well, except for his tattered and worn clothing. This brown and white doublet had seen far many better days, and she recognized a couple of the ground in stains: blood from her rescue in the sewer and the telltale rust-colored stain from the stucco roofing of Razmith's tower. On further reflection, she recalled seeing that doublet since the little reunion Withers had thrown them. Tav would gladly supply him with new clothes if she didn't predict his temper at the offer. Like the new cream-colored satin halter top number she wore now, she excused the neckline that plunged to her navel as a fashion statement, not an attention grabber for a particular undead.

 "She'll have another glass of whatever she is drinking," Astarion boldly ordered her another glass, "and I'll have the Tavern of the Garden Wine, and I mean wine. Not whatever other vintage you usually serve me."

 "One glass of Tavern and one glass of Undermountain Alurlyath," the Orc chuckled, "and food for the lady?"

 "Smoked Salmon with wild berries, please."

"The usual changes," the Orc asked in a too-familiar tone.

 "The usual would be wonderful," she returned with a smile. Ignoring Astarion's knowing smirk.

 Astarion caught the Orc's arm before he left the table, "don't forget a slice of Devil Deal's cake." His toothy grin swiveled back to her with a victorious grin, "What it  is  your birthday."

"How… chivalrous."

 He made a sour face, "Don't ruin my fun. It might just put me out of the mood to give you a present."

Her black eyebrow raised, but she played along, "However shall I regain your favor!"

Astarion grinned like a cat, "I could think of a few surefire ways, but I don't want you to bother me about it any longer," he took out a small box wrapped in a red ribbon and slid it in front of Tav.

The tears threatened her eyes before she managed to touch the box, as her fingers gently grasped the thing as if it might crumble from the gentlest pressure. Today, she would allow her tears to fall; it was a special day, and she could cry if she wanted. The pad of her finger delicately touched the ribbon, but her eyes wandered up to her companion, her voice a mere whisper, "Is this mine?"

He gave her a half-assed snarl, "Yes, you were always wearing that ratty thing," his lips thinned, "but open the damned present; I don't want everyone to see you cry. It's embarrassing."

Tav tucked her head in, then proceeded to open the paper box after carefully winding the crimson ribbon around her wrist.

 "Some vagabond took off with your earring," he interrupted before she got a glance at the contents within, "so I found another one. If it doesn't match, throw it or hawk it- it doesn't matter to me."

 This time her head shook with a cocked smile, unsure if it was wise of her to think he didn't mean half of what he implied. But that was half the problem in of itself; his course tone aligned with the biting words. Part of her wanted to bend over to make them stop, the other just to cower and turn inward so they would go away sooner. Leaving her with a taste of bile, where she knew she should find the taste sweet. Tav shook her head to dislodge the thoughts once again; she had a present to open after all.

 For the second time, she was tearing up. Nestled against a plush backdrop was a lapis earring that matched the stolen mate she had taken from her mother's dusty jewelry box a lifetime ago in a mad dash to leave her father's home. He had an impeccable memory for the detail of her missing piece, which tipped her tears into brimming over. Astarion's body moved into action, cascading over the table to cup her cheek and flick her tears away with his calloused thumb before it could completely smudge the kohl under her eyes. Heedlessly, her face nestled into his palm, undoing all his work not to smear her makeup.

 The smell of smoke entered her nostrils.

 Astarion's arm retreated as he cursed and flailed.

In a manner of divine timing, the orcish server rounded the corner and rushed forward with the bucket holding their wine bottles. With one hand, he placed both bottles on the table, and with the other, he shoved the vampire's elbow into the ice and dosed the flame.

"Unhand me brute!" Astarion demanded with no shame.

 Tav chortled loudly, happy tears now streaming over her cheeks. Her hand rested on her belly as she attempted valiantly to control her laughter.

His red eyes shot daggers at her as he resumed control of his arms, but his gaze turned back to their server, and his gaze softened as his mouth resumed a neutral position. "Thank you, that was very helpful, unlike one of some of us," he muttered the last part under his breath.

 The Orc let out a soft laugh, which for him still carried over half the restaurant, "the bottles are on the house; please enjoy," he made short work of pouring both of their glasses before retreating away again.

Tav still wiped at her eyes with an upward angle, her face red from the force of her laughter.

 "You look horrid," the spawn snapped as he surveyed the damage. His entire right elbow had been burnt away as his pale skin shone out in a large swathe at his joint. He picked and tore off the ashy bits of his clothing with a fierce frown, fretting at the garment until he had eliminated each burnt and melted bit of cloth and leather.

"Are you hurt?"

 "I don't need your help," he hissed.

 Tav nodded glumly and began to swipe at her face using the dark window as a mirror. At least this way, she didn't have to see the vampire who was likely fuming at her. It gave her pride a chance to recover and face him again as she was back in some order. It was also the opportunity she needed to swap out her earrings for the lapis studs that finally had returned to a matching pair.

 "I'm sorry," Tav offered him softly.

 "Darling, I can tell you still wish to laugh," he let out a long exhale, "so apologies not accepted or needed."

 She allowed the silence to move in between them, only broken by the minute sounds associated with them drinking from their glasses. Until Tav's attention was drawn to Astarion pulling something from his pack, a familiar flask that he tipped into his second glass of wine. His eyes trained on her ears for a moment longer, the corners of his mouth stretching. 

 Astarion released a smile, "I am in need of sustenance too; the vintages should pair well."

"Vintages? If that makes you sleep easy at night," Tav snorted gently, "But are they working?"

"Yes," he said slowly, chewing on his words, "with what supplies we have, it's difficult to make a pack of vermin agree to share."

 That earned him a smirk, "nearly endless supply isn't enough? Shame."

 "We're all beasts, some of us more beautiful than others," he sighed, "but enough about my favorite subject. How is your quest for Dukedom?"

"Hah, hardly a quest; it's been far more fun avoiding that role."

 "Not enough perks of Office for you?"

 "No, a fear of increased paperwork," she smiled from her wine glass, "the office machinations are tedious enough."

 His returning smile was predatory, and he leaned in, "Anyone that needs to meet an unexpected and grisly end?"

Tav considered the offer, but her head shook. She took a cursory glance around her before she continued, "Nothing that extreme, just Duke Roseau trying to wave his power stick in my face. It's Nothing new."

 The vampire leaned a little more forward and licked his lips, "this sounds personal. Can I kill him? Please. Pretty please."

She laughed, reinforcing her words with a shake of her head, "Keep it down, killer. I can handle it."

 "But I could help," the spawn whined as he sipped at his concoction, "two hands make for easier work."

 "It's not that big," she chuckled, amused thoroughly with her joke.

Astarion's face crossed with a bit of confusion, but he joined her chuckle.

"But before I forget again, again," Tav admitted with a guilty grin as she fished something out of her pouch. It was a carved cat; the slightly iridescent surface of the white creature glinted in the candlelight as she slid it across the table, "It should make things a little easier for you."

Astarion picked up the half-heart-shaped cat with a tilted head, "easier for what?"

Tav stared ahead at a point behind his back.

 "Tav? Hellloo," his torso turned to look behind him.

There, the orcish server approached with a tiny figure compared to his massive frame. The girl-woman carefully balanced a tray and what could only be Tav's salmon and strawberries with the side of asparagus. Her big brown doe eyes looked over them with her mouth agape, and the plate toppled to the floor with a loud clatter and shattering of ivory dishes. Tav stared at the younger woman, and she stared transfixed right back. 

 A few seconds later, the second crash was the chair being spun out from under Tav as she leaped up. 

 The reverie wasn't necessary to remember the smells of strawberries and apples mixing with the aromatic spices and vanilla of the rising pie crust. The burning streaks of sunlight that branded her tan skin, and the giggling of the sweetest kind- and the little hands pressed to her cheek with a puff of flour. Before the crescendo of the little voice rose again and again until they collapsed into a pile on the threadbare and stiff couch beneath them. Sneezing and laughing until they were both out of breath and wheezing. Just as quickly, the world tilted, and the laughter was replaced with deafening cracks and groans. Rock, metal, and wood alike careened and skidded across the cobblestone streets. She curled around that little figure, letting the debris cut through her to shield her child from even a moment of pain. But they couldn't stay there as she urged them forward again. Glancing behind her to look at the strange shadow that had blotted out the sky and stretched out to take them. She shoved her child beneath the underpass with only a second to react. Screaming out for her to hide as the world was ripped away from her.

"Tav!" Astarion's tone was insistent and rising, likely not the first time he had called out to her.

"I have to-."

--- --- ---

Astarion blinked as Tav disappeared with a faint crack. Leaving him alone with the Orc and the girl whose gaze had not left the space his friend had vanished from. The Orc started issuing an immediate apology as he set to clean up the mess left behind by the dropped plate. The girl stood there, dumbfounded, her mouth still slightly open. Ignoring her partner's requests and pleas for help.

"Hells," he whined. But it had been a futile effort without someone to react to his dramatics.

His head turned to get a better look at the woman. Something about her scent was familiar, drawing his interest to inspect this person closer.

Tall but lean. A sharp nose and a pink skin tone dotted with freckles. Her dark brown eyes were surrounded by shiny black hair pulled into a low bun and the elegant curves of half-even ears decked out with several rings and piercings. If he… no. That was the answer, wasn't it? One of the final puzzle pieces in the mystery of Tav's murky past life. The woman was a clone of his companion, even down to the moisture that ran down her cheek and how she swiped it away to minimize the running of her kohl. The similarities of the composition of their blood flooded his nostrils as he placed the shared notes between mother and daughter. 

"What is your name, my dear?" he mustered with as much gentleness as he could find.

Those dark orbs turned to him, finding himself being scrutinized and picked over with one look, "Sophie Blaire."

"And you are?" she returned with an even tone.

 "Astarion," he wasn't sure why he gave her a bow, but he was halfway through the action before he caught it.

One of her eyebrows raised, "a vampire."

[screamingwiththewolves]

Even as a kid, I thought vampirism as depicted in the SS books doesn't make sense. Every creature, human or animal, living or undead bitten by a vampire turns into one. If vampires need blood regularly and have existed for centuries the entire world population would've turned into vampires, or they would need to kill every person they feed from which wouldn't be sustainable in the long run.

In the books, vampires that live in GHOUL communities have special pipes alongside water for blood but GHOUL hasn't always existed.

I suppose that hunting animals would solve the problem, but it never made sense to me that even zombies could turn into vampires since they're already undead and don't even have any blood to drink.

yeah, admittedly vampirisms being transmitted by just a bite was never my favorite trope. It can certainly make sense in some stories/plots, like when vampirism is treated like an illness. But when Vampires are treated as a species it doesn't make much sense in my opinion. Same logic with werewolves. The only story I've seen that treats werewolf's like a species, and still gets away with the bite thing, is Wolfwalkers. and that's because it does such a great job of showing that the lycanthropy of that film, is a gift to be bestowed, or a curse to enemies. So it works.

That all being said, I can also appreciate the silliness of vampirisms being transmitted to any creature via just a bite. In the case of the Scream Street books, it creates a situation that is just absurd. But, like, in an enjoyable way? Like it's over the top, camp, chaotic, ridiculous. It's like a tart cherry pie. Usually, I don't like cherry pie because it's so tart. But sometimes I crave a cherry pie specifically for the tartness. You get what I mean?

I guess if you wanted to have your cake and eat it to, one could theorize that such easy vampirism is specifically something of the Negative lineage. Maybe their bites transform others into vampiric minions, where as with most vampires that's not an issue. Maybe that's why their last name is "Negative" because their bites come with "negative" effects. Could even be a reason Resus's ancestor helped found Scream Street. He may have felt that doing such would keep their mutation from causing more harm. (could also be why he stays in a hibernation mode rather than enjoying his undead existence.)

Or, second theory, it could be that it's due to something that Ghoul did to the vampires in their facilities, like experimentation or adding something to the blood supply. They've certainly done far worse. Heck, maybe the thing about the supply coming from the drains of the world is a lie to began with. Making a supplement certainly sounds easier than a complex blood gathering system. After all, if the vampires thought that the blood supply was from a pipe system, when they'd be fully dependent on the Scream Street facilities. And we all know how much Ghoul loves anything that gives them more power over the cryptids. Furthermore, I'd make sense if they were particularly controlling of vampires, as vampires are a more threatening creature, they have a lot of powers. We don't see the Negatives have a lot of powers, but I'm willing to bet that's because they were raised in Scream Street. They've been denied a lot of things, and likely don't know the full extent of their powers.

Idk, just some theories that came to mind while thinking about all of this. (screw Ghoul, they are awful people) :D

[disinfernus]

Teamwork Makes the Interrogation Work

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Edge of Wormwoods PARTIES: Dis and Zofia SUMMARY: What happens when a lampade and a vampire go after the same target? They work together to get answers and rid the world of one less hunter. WARNINGS: Mental manipulation occurs as well as some stabbing.

This one seemed promising, but Dīs grew weary. The year was almost over and they hadn’t gotten much closer to figuring out what happened to their aos sí, a frustrating reality. But they were keen to keep up with this one, at least — maybe make it one last good interrogation before the new year. Or maybe they’d get something good.

They remained largely undetected, keen on keeping themselves out of view until the very last moment — until she showed up. Where had she come from? Had she been tailing this man the whole time? Wherever she came from, she seemed to have the upper hand, so much so that the nymph couldn’t help but to break from their safety blanket and make themself known.

“Wait–” they commanded, pleading, as they became visible once more, glamour taking over instead of their usual immense self. “I need him alive.” Please. Their tone indicated more, but they didn’t exactly have ‘converse about your family drama’ on their agenda for that night.

Several faces had leered down at her in the four months she’d been hidden away. This one certainly hadn’t been the worst offender. Not that that mattered. Being the least worst of her captors didn’t earn the hunter any leniency. 

Zofia had been stalking him from a distance through town for what felt like hours. And then he’d made the foolish decision to venture a little ways out of town, toward the woods. She prowled, just far enough away to evade his notice. He might have been able to sense the presence of the undead, but in a town full of them pinning down her location would be like finding a needle in a haystack. She stopped, and watched, and waited- ignoring the fact that every fiber of her being screamed at her to lunge and end it quickly. But she’d only killed the first one quickly so she could escape. The rest? She’d allow herself to enjoy the rest. The moment of silence stretched out into the dark night like a silvery thread.

And then, the thread snapped. 

Lunging into action, Zofia threw herself at the young hunter like a caged beast set free. The two went tumbling across the ground before she threw all her weight on top of him, pinning them down. “Gotcha,” She purred, sounding all too pleased with herself. Reaching into their pocket, she fished out a stake first, clicking her tongue. “You won’t be needing this, kochanie.” She threw it far out of his reach before pulling out a blade and resting it against the pretty vein in his neck that fluttered as his heartbeat rose in panic. 

Wait-

The vampire’s eyes darted up and her gaze locked on a stranger. Her lip curled up in a snarl, trying to assess whether or not this was going to become a more complicated fight than she’d anticipated. “You had better give me good reason to keep him breathing, and quickly.” 

With the knife already kissing the man's neck, their chances of getting what they came for dwindled rapidly. They didn't know her, they'd never seen her before, so what was the perfect combination of words to get her to stand down? Or the perfect combination to ruin it all by spreading his blood across the ground.

Dīs supposed that honesty was the best policy, at least in this instance. They could keep details close to their chest, but maybe a tale of woe and loss was enough to sway her mind otherwise. Their golden eyes showed vividly in the dark, their travel from knife to her face evident. Yes they were scared that this could be it. Who knew when they'd get another whiff of retribution? 

The lampade held up both hands, choosing to remain at their spot instead of encroaching further. “He knows someone who was involved in my.. family's death. I need answers.” They nodded to the hunter. “You can kill him after, I don't care.”

Desperate hands scratched and closed at the arm she had pressed into them, holding them in place. It was tiresome. 

They said not to kill them yet. They hadn’t said not to hurt them. 

An agonized yowl echoed out as Zofia drove her blade into the hunters hand, being careful to avoid touching their blood. Then she noticed the eyes. 

She wasn’t sure what they were, exactly. Only that they were likely fae, given the fact that they smelled sweet as honey. Zofia would have contemplated trying to get a taste if she’d been in any other situation. But the fact that they weren’t human meant they likely weren’t looking to give her friend a helping hand. 

Studying the stranger with glowing eyes, she threw more of her weight into keeping the hunter pinned down. “They take from everyone.” Her voice was dull despite the rage that lit her eyes. “Get your answers. I’ll see to it he gives them.” Zofia twisted the blade further into the back of the hunter's hand, a grim sort of satisfaction curling up in the chest at the cries. 

A grimace found their face at the piercing wail that escaped once the knife plunged into tender flesh. The hand was already sensitive enough when cut by accident, they couldn’t imagine what it felt like to be stabbed through the palm. But they could sort of feel it in the hunter’s yell — was he too loud? Would someone hear? Perhaps, but Dīs could disappear in a snap if their gaze failed them. It hasn’t yet, but they didn’t know what kind of crowd this ruckus would draw.

They take from everyone. 

This was not the time to ask her of her own history, but they’d be lying if they said they weren’t at least a little curious. There wasn’t much there in her expression, but the way her eyes seemed to blaze with that statement, perhaps even experience, told them that maybe she wanted to make them feel what she did. She had revenge in her sights; they could respect that. But they didn’t have a lot of time to waste, though, judging by the quickness in the way she stabbed him.

Dīs’ attention faltered from the viscous woman to the man pinned beneath her, writhing and in pain thanks to the piece of metal between his metacarpals. They tilted their head just slightly, just enough so that their eye lines would match up despite his prone position on the ground. He was scared, but he still looked angry, like the wrong move could be the end for either one of them. They didn’t intend on dying that night, so they needed to make sure to keep their questions short and to the point. That should be easy. They had a name — they just needed the location.

“Your cousin. Michel — where is he? His home is empty but I know you know where he is.”

Zofia didn’t particularly care what the stranger thought of her methods of keeping the hunter incapacitated. So long as they were on the same side. Red eyes flickered up to strange glowing ones as she waited for him to begin his interrogation.

The man beneath her writhed and wriggled, looking for freedom if he could just get himself free. But the vampire kept him down to the best of her ability. “Why the fuck would I tell you wear he is?” The hunter spat, his gaze flickering to the stranger keeping watch from a distance, and the vampire who loomed over him. “I’m not telling you anything, jackass.” 

Zofia clucked her tongue, shaking her head in mock disappointment. “Wrong answer, kochanie.” She pulled the knife from the back of the man’s  hand and repeated the process on his other one. She could feel the burn as some of his blood splashed against her hand. She twisted the knife, and ignored the pain. Glancing over her shoulder, she jerked her chin to beckon the stranger closer. “Come, come. I won’t bite you right now, I’m a bit preoccupied. It would be better if you asked your questions up close, to see if he’s lying. No?”

That was an expected reaction. An annoying one, and a complete waste of time as they all tended to give up in the end anyway — but it was expected all the same. What they didn’t expect, but probably should have, were the red eyes. Vampire. They would have guessed ‘mare’ had it not been for the preternatural display of strength. Of course she had to be a vampire. Dīs felt a weight in their stomach, like a brick falling to the sea floor; their last meeting with one ended poorly and with two new scars for their neck.

She hit him again, this time on the other hand, repeating the process and eliciting another pained cry. They would have gone slow with it, quiet, as if they weren’t even there, but she had the reigns. She was the one in charge. They just hoped the curious kept to themselves that night.

That was when she beckoned Dīs closer. A horrible idea, in their opinion, but did they have any other option? She could get tired of their hesitation and end it all then and there; she seemed the type to not waste any time. The lampade clenched their jaw. They would have to be ready if she turned on them, once she was done with the prey. If she turned on them, but her comment about not biting them right now didn’t exactly give them a lot of confidence that she wouldn’t. 

Suddenly feeling like they were stuck between a rock and a hard place, they obliged and drew nearer to the vampire and wriggling man. Stubbornness could be a hard nut to crack, but they were keen to get an answer one way or another. The lampade stood beside them now and dropped slowly to one knee with their eyes fixed on the man’s twisted expression. Pain was a useful tool, but that was just the tip of the iceberg. Dīs had a pleasure in messing with the mind. Humans, and many creatures, had an innate fear of the dark — of the unknown within. Paired with their ability to almost melt the reasoning and reality in their brains, even for only a few moments, was paramount to the lampade’s success. They supposed a knife just wasn’t going to cut it this time.

“Look at me,” the nymph commanded, and when he didn’t and still refused, a darkened hand jumped up to grab the sides of his face and forced his attention on them. “I said look at me,” the yellow glow in their eyes grew with intensity, overtaking the entirety of their sclera, and the shadows of their face changed and writhed, like paint bleeding in from the edge of damp paper. “Where is he?” The hunter’s eyes were now fixed on the endless light that radiated from Dīs’ skull. Michel had been gone for some time now; the driveway was empty, but his neighbors say he didn’t move. So where was he?

They seemed hesitant. 

It shouldn’t have surprised Zofia, especially since she’d launched herself at the hunter like she’d never get the chance again. She rolled her eyes, jerking her chin again. “You have my word. You’re not on my agenda tonight. I might not look like it, but I can show restraint.”

As her new partner in crime approached, she removed the blade from the man’s other hand, and brought it back to rest on the column of his throat. If he got any clever ideas, it would just end that much quicker for him. She assumed that whatever magical madness the fae had at their disposal, they’d be far more useful at getting answers from a stubborn ass hunter. Hunters were likely accustomed to pain. They could suffer their way through a few encounters with a blade.

She was concerned for a moment that her mind was beginning to play tricks on her again when a shadowy hand shot out and grabbed hold of the man’s face. Whatever kind of fae this was, she was fairly certain she hadn’t encountered them before. She could see the glow of their eyes reflected on the hunter’s horrified face, and decided it would be for the best that she averted her gaze for the time being. 

“I don’t know!” The hunter yelped, their eyes darting about on the strangers changing features. “I-I-I saw him the other day! The other day at the Three Daggers! I did, I swear- The Three Daggers- it’s a bar! It’s a bar in Gatlin Fields! Said he was busy working over-” His eyes widened, realizing he was saying too much. 

Zofia frowned. “Keep singing, skowronek. It will be better for you if you do.”

You have my word. 

On what, exactly? On not being on her agenda? On not biting them right then? Or was it her word in general? Their body buzzed with the thought of the number of possibilities. Dīs hummed, as if contemplating her motion for belief. “Alright,” they agreed with a small nod, conceding to her persuasive words. “I have your word.” They fought back the smile that threatened to break through their placid expression, instead focusing that energy on the human.

That giddy feeling continued as the hunter finally spilled forth the start of the truth they so desperately were looking for. Every lead led to the possibility of finding peace. The Three Daggers — they knew of the place, but they would be stupid to step through that threshold. That was a hunter bar, a death sentence. Despite the feeling of mental capacity melting, Dīs held on to the man’s mind, grateful for the vampire’s goad and threat for more violence.

Unfortunately for them, maybe not so much for her, their hold was, perhaps, a little too strong. Or maybe they’d had him in their sights too long. Whatever the case, incoherency filled the young hunter’s head, enabling a string of babbling and wide eyes filled with fear and emptiness. He started to thrash against the vampire, ignoring the pain in his hands; too busy with the paranoia and madness that took over.

“Damn it,” the lampade growled in frustration but stood back, being sure to keep their distance so the human could be dealt with by the one holding the knife. They’d done enough already. The madness itself might not last, but at that moment, it didn’t matter. They wasted the opportunity. “Kill him, then.. This,” they gestured to his state, “won’t last forever but he’s useless now.” The Three Daggers was going to have to be enough.

Zofia hadn’t really thought about the words leaving her mouth and who she was saying them to. After all, in that moment they were on the same side. They had both lost to the hands of men like the one beneath her blade. But when she heard them echoed back to her, she realized she may have made a mistake. She swore under her breath, and shrugged. No helping the matter now. She’d deal with whatever the consequences were later. 

Then, something changed. She wasn’t sure what had happened, exactly. Whatever the slayer saw on the stranger’s face, it seemed to be too much for his mind to handle. Zofia had gone from having him relatively well pinned down, to struggling to keep the raving lunatic from hitting her as he thrashed about. She hissed as his bloody palm smacked into her arm, her skin burning at the contact. 

“So much for a slow death.” Zofia grumbled, moving the blade down to the man’s chest before pressing it down into his heart. “For the other’s you’ve undoubtedly done the same to.” She muttered into the madman’s ear as he gasped at the sudden shock, clarity filling his eyes for one final moment. It wouldn’t be long now. She pulled her blade free, and stood up, watching him as the madness faded as the slayer slowly slipped away. 

“Did you at least get some information to help you?” The vampire asked, not sure if she should look up at the stranger. Given the fate of the slayer, it might not be the best idea. She kept her gaze down, eyes locked on the evidence that she was one step closer to being safe again.

Slips ups were easy; they wouldn’t hold that against her. But they would have to think about what she might be able to help them with. She did help with the hunter, a happy accident unplanned by either party, but still somewhat lucrative in the end. The favor wouldn’t be terrible, not when she was willing to hear them out and wait. Just like they’d asked. They’d make sure to thank her in some way.

Dīs watched the blade go in, the sudden impact of pain and dread of death when the blade pierced flesh, meat and bone to reach the heart was striking in comparison to the madness that had just previously taken over. They saw the clarity, yes, and wondered what it was he could be thinking. Did he know he had lost all sense of mental stability? Was he still present but unable to stop it? Or had he been truly gone until his life was snuffed out? Ignorance or immobility? 

The glow from their eyes eased up and the shadows on their face slithered back to where they came from. Pupils found their way back to the forefront and two irises reformed, containing the glinting gold within those shapes. They sighed, frustrated but at least they had something. 

“I should.. apologize for that.” They rested their hands on their hips. “I didn’t expect him to break that quickly.” An exhale escaped them. “Somewhat. At least I know he is still in town. That gives me hope I will find him.” Dīs looked over the blood that coated the knife and the man that now laid dead. “Are you satisfied?”

She could see the glow recede in her periphery. She assumed whatever magic the fae had been wielding, it had been reversed. And she had to assume that a creature that she now owed gods only knew what to wouldn’t be so quick to see her meet a similar fate to the now motionless slayer. 

She looked up at them, curious. They looked normal enough now. It was always the unassuming looking ones, wasn’t it…

“No need.” She said, trying to rub the hunter's blood from where it burned her arm. She hissed in pain at the contact. She’d need to clean that off sooner rather than later. “I’m not. He was not the strongest of his little coterie.” Zofia wiped the knife on the dead slayer’s jacket before stowing the blade away in her pocket once again. 

Satisfied. She let out a puff of air that might have been considered a laugh if she could bring her face to form a smile. “He went quicker than I would have liked.” She shrugged. “But I’m better now that one more is gone.” Zofia frowned. “I am sorry for what his friend took from you. I know that pain.”

They noted her discomfort towards the blood on her arm, the way she buffed it away and how her skin burned from the contact. They’ll have to remember that for a rainy day. Their eyes narrowed just slightly when they recalled the handkerchief they kept in their coat. It was stained with their own blood, but maybe it would be of use to her. 

“Do you need something for that?” It was the least they could do, and if not, it was no bother to them. At least the kindness was offered.

“How many more of them are there left?” The passing thought of perhaps there could be another connection lingered a little too long; did they really want to get involved? This one already led them to the notorious hunter bar in town, how much further did it go? Her return of kindness softened the hard expression on Dīs’ face. They nodded. “... I appreciate that.. I just wish I knew why. What was their purpose for—”

The lampade stopped themself. Now was not the time. “Your help was very much appreciated,” they might not have been able to do it without her, truthfully, but they wouldn’t admit that out loud. “I bid you good luck with the others,” they nodded towards the dead. A thought crossed over them suddenly. “What is your name? If we were to cross paths again, I’d like to know what to call you..”

It was highly likely that they would, either for the human hunt or the promise itself.

“To wash it off.” She said honestly. “It will be fine. It won’t take very long to heal.”  Zofia could deal with the sting. It didn’t hurt that bad now that she’d gotten the majority off. 

She shrugged at the question. “I’d tell you if I could trust I knew the answer for certain.” She couldn’t be sure that her mind hadn’t conjured up new faces in addition to the ones from her past. “One main one. A few lackeys. They won’t look for you- as long as you don’t have any ties to my dear friend here.” She nodded to the body. 

“They prefer my kind.” They preferred her clan. Her kin. They likely wouldn’t think twice about some random fae, and would let another hunter deal with it. “Hunters in general, or this one?” Zofia asked, her lip curling in distaste. “This one wanted me. And what’s left of my family, if anyone remains.” She explained. “On the whole…”

The vampire sighed, considering the answer. What was the purpose? “To protect their kind from the other, I suppose.” It was the only explanation she could think of that made any sense. Otherwise it was just all for the sake of the hunt. 

“Nie ma za co.” She shook her head. “And it isn’t yours to keep. But you can call me Zofia. What can I call you?”

“Alright, fair enough,” they returned with concession, though they were thankful their impromptu interrogation was coming to a close. They wanted to go home and to think about how they could get to Michel. They didn’t exactly know many who would be willing to go into the Three Daggers, at least, none that wouldn’t ping at least one hunter’s attention. No, this needed some thought.

“I’m not too worried about myself..” They should be. It was foolish not to, but they thought back to Inge. This was a dangerous place to live; their heart ached for the life they used to have, one filled with silence and darkness. The surface was too bright and full of danger. There wasn’t enough death, either, despite the walking corpses that surrounded them, that called them friends. “No, no, I had meant.. It’s nothing. Perhaps for another time. I hope there are still some of your clan left.” That was the truth. They knew what it was like to be the last one. At least, presumably.

“As we’re doing. It seems pointless.” Dīs couldn’t help the smile at her assumption. “Don’t worry, I won’t take it. It is beautiful, though. Dīs, I own the Elysium in Worm’s row — if you care to stop by.”

What must it be like, she wondered, to not have to worry about herself. To not have to look over her shoulder, constantly anticipating to look back and see someone poised to strike with a stake behind her. She envied the fae stranger in that regard. 

A bitter laugh escaped the vampire's lips and hung in the night air. “I hope that you’re right.” Zofia sighed. “I hope that you are.” But she doubted she’d ever see any of them again. She was quite certain they’d all returned to ash at that point. 

“That’s very kind of you.” She nodded in gratitude for the compliment. “I haven’t used it in so very long. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed it. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Dīs.” Zofia hummed in contemplation. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had the pleasure. I’ll have to stop by.” 

Her gaze caught on the still hunter on the ground. “I don’t suppose the fae have any interesting ways of disposing of things like these?”

There was no real hope that anyone would be still left alive, but Zofia’s clan at least had the better chance. If any of theirs survived, that would be a miracle. They didn’t have much hope for them.

“Well, it suits you. It should stay around for a little while,” they suggested, slightly playfully now that the high energy of the interrogation died down. Though, they were still out in the open, despite the cover of night. The loitering couldn’t continue.

“The pleasure’s mine, despite,” Dīs looked to the same body she regarded and questioned. “Not myself, no. But I know of a few who will have use for it. I’ll take it.” It was unfortunate they couldn’t make other things turn to shadow, inanimate objects or even people, but to bathe it in so much darkness prying eyes would have a hard time making out was the next best thing.

With the body now in their possession (it would be so much easier if they were thirteen feet tall), they gave Zofia a parting bow of their head. “Until next time,” they expressed, meaning it, and knowing that they will indeed see each other again. Either in casual conversation or to cash in on that promise.

“I think it means wisdom,” she said softly. The danger had passed, her focus drifting with it. She wondered how long it would be before her mind began playing tricks on her again. Zofia shook her head. “Not entirely sure it fits.” Three hundred years and she still wasn’t certain if she could be considered wise. 

She wondered just who this person knew that would have use for a dead hunter. It was probably best if she didn’t question it. Asking more questions would most likely ask for more trouble, and she had more than her fair share of trouble. “Then he’s all yours.” Zofia sighed looking down at the body. “Tak długo, suko.” She spat at the dead hunter. 

She watched as they nodded their head in acknowledgement, and she tipped hers in return, the bloodstained vampire dipping into a slight curtsy. “Until then, Dīs.” She turned and disappeared back into the night. Until then. 

[mjonthetrack]

time

Page 146

Nalu’s fingers moved in slow, reverent circles as she massaged the oil into his scalp, the faint scent of jasmine and eucalyptus rising into the quiet room like incense. Her hums were soft and low, curling into the air like warm smoke. It wasn’t a song Jimmy recognized, but it felt old. Ancient. Sacred.

It wrapped around him the way her arms did—gentle and anchoring.

The melody carried memories not his own—tales of stone pyramids, jungle heat, and women who sang while grinding maize. Mayan lullabies her mother used to hum when combing through her curls by moonlight. Songs not meant to be sung, just remembered in the bones.

Jimmy closed his eyes under her touch. There was no place else in the world. Just the slow, careful drag of her fingers through his hair, the warmth of her thighs framing his body, and the weight of that song humming through her chest and into his spine.

She leaned in before she even realized she was doing it. Kissed the side of his temple. Then another, this time lower near the line of his jaw. She couldn’t help it—couldn’t stop touching him. Something inside her buzzed with the need to show affection. Like instinct. Like survival. She needed her hands on him to breathe.

Jimmy exhaled through his nose, the corner of his mouth curling up. “You tryna seduce me with hair care and forehead kisses?”

Nalu snorted, brushing her lips across his temple again just to be petty. “Might be. You clean up nice, vampire.”

His smile deepened, eyes still closed, face tilted up like he was soaking in the attention like sunlight. “You hum like you come from somewhere the gods still walk. You sure you’re the new one in this world?”

She smirked and ghosted another kiss to his shoulder before resting her chin there, arms wrapped loosely around his neck from behind. “Don’t know,” she murmured. “But you’re mine now, so that makes you my problem, doesn’t it?”

Jimmy hummed in approval, reaching up to touch her hands that rested over his chest.

“And I’ll be the best problem you’ve ever had,” he promised, eyes still closed, letting her song and her hands and the feel of her mold around him like armor he never thought he’d deserve.

Page 147

Nalu’s fingers coasted slowly over the silky lengths of his freshly washed hair, still damp and trailing over his bare shoulders. She moved with that soft kind of intimacy—the kind that came after feeding, after claiming, after washing each other’s bodies in the kind of silence that said everything. Her nails lightly scraped his scalp, affectionate and idle, as if her body couldn’t stop touching him, like he was a tether keeping her grounded in this brand-new undead world.

“You know,” she murmured, her voice low and playfully musing, “you never showed me what your gifts are. Aside from looking like a Samoan god with the sexiest tattoos between the both of us… and a pretty undead smile.” She grinned against the back of his neck, her lips brushing the skin there.

Jimmy chuckled, low and deep, the kind that always rumbled in his chest like thunder cracking open a summer sky. He tilted his head just slightly, giving her better access to keep playing in his hair. “You sure it’s not just the hair and the jawline? That’s usually where I hook ‘em.”

“Oh you hook, alright,” she snorted. “You baited, snatched, and reeled me into a whole new species, baby. So yeah. I’m invested.”

Jimmy’s eyes opened slowly, those warm brown irises glowing faintly gold under the low lighting of their shared room in the sanctuary. “You really wanna know what I can do?”

She paused, then nodded slowly. “Yeah. You’ve seen all of mine. Seems only fair.”

Jimmy reached up and gently captured her hand, turning it palm up. He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed each one slowly, thoughtfully. Then without letting go, he exhaled a slow breath—and the shadows in the room shifted.

Not just the lights. Not just the air.

The actual shadows—beneath the bed, across the floorboards, in the corners of the room—they rippled and slithered, coiling like living things. They gravitated toward him, toward them, like ancient creatures recognizing one of their own.

Nalu froze, eyes wide. “Uhhh—”

“My family’s line,” he said quietly, “comes from before bloodlines were mapped. Some of us… we got affinity to the darker things. I can manipulate shadow. Move through it. Speak into it. It’s how I found you that night, when you ran. I followed the part of you that glows where others cast shade.”

One of the shadows flicked up onto her thigh like a curious tendril, harmless but sentient, almost like it was sniffing her. She blinked and looked down, then up at him.

“You been walking around with your own personal horror movie special effects and didn’t say nothing?”

Jimmy smirked. “You didn’t ask, cariño.”

“Don’t cariño me with your Nightcrawler-ass powers. That’s hot as hell.”

He turned just enough to face her, their knees bumping, his large palm splayed over her waist. “They only do what I want. But they protect what’s mine.”

Nalu tilted her head. “So I’m your precious little shadow now?”

Jimmy’s gaze darkened with something possessive, reverent. “No, baby. You’re my light. They just know better than to ever touch you the wrong way.”

She stared at him a moment, those words slipping down her spine like silk and steel. Then she grinned again, brushing her thumb across his tattooed chest. “Alright, Fatu. You win. I’m turned on.”

“Figured,” he said smugly, pulling her into his lap with a low growl.

Page 148

She smiled.

Not the teasing kind, not the cocky smirk she wore when she knew she had him wrapped around her finger, and not the wicked one she threw over her shoulder after causing chaos.

This one was soft. Open. Real.

Jimmy stilled—like his whole damn body went into lockdown just to memorize the curve of it, the way it stretched gently across her lips, how it warmed her deep ember-brown eyes like sunlight slipping through amber.

Nalu reached out and took his large hand into hers, both of them bare now, no claws, no armor. Her fingers slid between his, smaller, delicate but no less strong, and she rested their palms together—hers warm from the blood still humming beneath her skin, his colder, ancient, steady.

“I like it,” she said quietly, looking down at their joined hands before lifting her gaze to him again. “Your gift… it’s pretty.”

Jimmy blinked like she just said something wild.

She kept going, her thumb rubbing across his knuckles, like she didn’t even realize how deeply her words were threading themselves into him. “It’s deep. Controlled. Like you. Like the ocean—like that kind of depth that could drown you if you weren’t careful, but also cradle you if you just… surrender to it.”

His chest rose, slow, with a breath that he didn’t need but suddenly felt necessary.

“You can be chaos or calm. And that’s beautiful, Jimmy.”

No one had ever said shit like that to him. Not about what he was. Not about the bloodline that terrified most of their kind, or the shadows he controlled, or the power he carried like a curse.

Nalu looked at it like art.

Like him.

He didn’t respond with words—not at first. Just tightened his grip on her hand gently, pulling her into his chest. His other hand came up to cup the back of her head, fingers weaving through her thick curls like it was instinct now.

He pressed his forehead to hers, letting the bond pull taut between them, humming low and steady like a tide beneath the surface.

“You see me,” he finally whispered.

“I do,” she replied, just as soft.

“You still want me?”

Nalu smirked, brushing her nose against his. “I wanted you when I thought you were a hot mentally ill stranger, Fatu. You think shadow-bending ocean man gonna scare me off?”

Jimmy’s chest shook with a quiet laugh, and he kissed her. Slow. Meaningful. A kiss from a man who’d lived lifetimes without ever hearing words like hers.

And in the shadows of the room, the dark twisted in quiet reverence. Because their monster had finally been seen—and loved anyway.

Page 149

Her lips ghosted over his, soft and hot, the taste of that last kiss still lingering. Her fingers slid along his jaw, holding him there—not like she could really restrain him, but like her touch alone was command enough.

“Respectfully,” she murmured, her voice honeyed velvet with a blade underneath, “mi corazón…” Her nose brushed his, her breath mingling with his next inhale, “if you keep burying your darkness for the sake of what you think is my comfort—or anyone else’s—”

Her lips curved wicked, those ember eyes burning hotter now.

“I’ll castrate you,” she whispered, deadpan, “with my teeth.”

Jimmy blinked once. Twice. A slow grin started to crawl across his lips, something deep and feral cracking through the surface of his controlled exterior.

“Damn,” he muttered, voice thick with something darker—lust, respect, possessiveness, all of it wrapped in awe. “You’re really not built like any other mate.”

Nalu raised a brow, licking her lips slowly, cocking her head in mock sweetness. “You’re damn right I’m not. You want someone meek who can’t handle what you are?” Her hand slipped down his chest, claws dragging lightly. “Should’ve bit someone else.”

Jimmy grabbed her wrist—not hard, just firm enough to remind her who she was taunting. His dark eyes gleamed. “There is no one else.”

“Good,” she smirked. “Because I want all of it. The shadows. The hunger. The part of you that wants to own me every time I look at you sideways. Don’t you dare water it down.”

Jimmy’s breath caught at the edge of a groan, and then he kissed her—harder this time. His free hand wrapped around her waist, dragging her flush against his body like he was trying to fuse them together.

“No one’s ever said that to me,” he said against her lips. “Not even my own kind.”

Nalu pulled back just enough to look him in the eye, her voice lower now, intimate and sure.

“Well,” she murmured, “you didn’t fall in love with your own kind.”

And the shadows in the corners of the room pulsed like they agreed.

Page 150

For the first time in centuries, he let it slip.

The mask—polished and cold, molded by centuries of solitude, duty, restraint—fractured. And then it fell. Not gently. Not like a soft reveal. It shattered like obsidian under pressure, shards of his self-control glittering in the wake of her defiance.

Jimmy exhaled through his nose, nostrils flaring slightly as something primal coiled in his core and rose. Not his hunger. Not the quiet ache for her blood or body.

No.

It was him.

The real version. The ancient predator. The old-world god cloaked in undead skin, hidden behind long stares and soft words. He didn’t blink as the shadows curled in on themselves, drawn to the shift in his aura like they'd missed the presence of their king.

His lips parted—not in a grin this time, but something deeper. Reverent. Possessive. A little mad.

“You really want to see me,” he said low, the depth of his voice cracking like thunder against the walls of their sanctuary, “then see me, mate.”

Power rippled off his skin. Heavy. Ancient. It made the air hard to breathe.

Veins across his throat darkened, crawling ink-like along his collarbone, chasing old Samoan symbols that lit faintly under the surface of his skin. His fangs extended—not the usual glide of hunger, but a full unveiling of the beast beneath.

His eyes—once deep brown—were pitch black rimmed with molten red.

And still, Nalu didn’t flinch.

She grinned.

The room dimmed like it was bowing to his energy. The candle flames behind them guttered violently, like they weren’t sure if they should stay lit in his presence.

“I haven’t let myself go in… eight hundred years,” Jimmy murmured, his hands now cradling her thighs, spreading her easily across his lap like she was meant to sit there.

She watched the way his jaw ticked, how his control trembled on the edge of ruin.

“And now?” she asked softly, biting her bottom lip.

“Now,” he said, brushing her hair back with careful fingers, “I remember what I was made for.”

The way he kissed her wasn’t desperate—it was claiming. Open, raw, hungry in a way only soul-deep bonds allowed. His growl rolled into her mouth and his grip tightened at her waist, and for the first time since the stars forgot his name, he wasn’t hiding.

She had ripped the mask off.

And what was left?

A man so dangerously in love, the dark itself bowed at her feet.

Page 151

Nalu’s fingers slid slow and sure over the new black lines twisting through his veins, tracing the intricate patterns that pulsed beneath his skin like living ink. The veins shimmered faintly under her touch—dark rivers carrying ancient power—and her breath hitched at the feel of them beneath her fingertips.

“Pretty,” she murmured, voice soft but fierce, like she was tasting some secret truth no one else got to see.

Her eyes flicked up to the shadows pooling in the corners of the room, where the light struggled to hold its ground. The darkness didn’t just linger there—it breathed, alive and shifting, like it was part of him, flowing from his soul.

“Show me more,” she whispered, leaning into him, her breath warm against his jaw. “Reveal your nature, mate. I like your darkness. It’s full... like it’s been waiting for me.”

Jimmy’s chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm, the weight of her words settling into his bones. His hands gripped her hips tighter, pulling her closer as the shadows deepened and stretched, curling around them like a living cloak.

“Full,” he echoed, voice low, rough like gravel and honey. “Not just darkness. It’s everything. The fire, the pain, the hunger... and the love.”

He dipped his head, fangs grazing her skin as he kissed the hollow beneath her ear, sending shivers rippling down her spine. The air between them thickened with ancient promises and raw desire.

“Now,” he said, voice dripping with power and need, “you’re mine.”

Page 152

Her pretty laugh cut through the darkness like a spark in a blackened room. “It tickles,” she teased, the sound warm and light, bouncing off the shadows that swirled thick around them.

Jimmy’s shadows curled and twisted at her words, sliding along her skin, cold but comforting, like a living breeze made of night itself. The room was pitch black, yet she didn’t flinch or fumble—no frantic searching, no panic. She just sat there, calm and steady, anchored in his lap like she belonged there.

Her nose scrunched up in that familiar way he adored, and instead of fear, there was trust—deep and unshakable, the kind only mates shared.

Jimmy’s voice dropped to a low rumble against the quiet, “You’re not afraid. Good. Because this darkness? It’s oursnow.”

Her fingers wove through his long hair, grounding herself in the moment, her eyes closed but her senses wide open, drinking in the weight and warmth of his presence.

And in that sacred silence wrapped in shadow, they sat—two halves of the same fierce whole—ready to face whatever the night dared to bring.

Page 153

She hummed thoughtfully, the sound soft and curious in the dark. “So far, all I’ve got is the cat thing,” she mused, fingers tracing idle patterns on his arm. “I’m guessing it’s tied to my Mayan roots. But beyond that… I don’t really know what else I can do.”

Her eyes opened slowly, glinting in the low light, fierce yet vulnerable. “Maybe the darkness—you know, your darkness? It doesn’t scare me. ‘Cause my gifts are chaos too.”

Jimmy’s lips twitched into a slow smile, the shadows around them rippling with approval. “Chaos,” he echoed, voice rough and low, “that’s what we’re made of. Different storms, but storms all the same. You don’t fear the dark… that means you’re ready.”

He shifted slightly, cradling her closer, feeling the steady pulse of her heartbeat sync with his own. “Together, our darkness isn’t just chaos. It’s power. It’s survival. And, damn, it’s beautiful.”

Page 154

Nalu nudged him with her shoulder, her mouth curving in that sharp, playful grin he was learning to crave. “There you go again, back on your sensei Yoda shit,” she teased, a mischievous glint in her chaotic ember eyes. “All cryptic wisdom and ancient poetic bars. I half expect you to hand me a bamboo stick and make me walk barefoot through fire.”

Jimmy huffed a low laugh, deep and lazy in his chest. “You say that like I haven’t already done worse,” he murmured, eyes glittering as he brushed a strand of damp curl from her cheek. “I’ve earned my weird old man dialogue. I’ve walked through fire. I’ve burned in it.”

She rolled her eyes, giggling under her breath as she leaned in closer. “Yeah, yeah—Samoan vampire Moses. Leading the blood-soaked exodus or whatever.”

Jimmy's grin turned wolfish, catching the underside of her jaw with his knuckles, making her tilt her head like a spoiled cat. “Keep clowning, gatita, but don’t act like this Yoda tongue didn’t have you panting my name an hour ago.”

Nalu sucked her teeth and groaned, “See, why do you always gotta ruin the vibe and make me horny again?”

“Because I like when you purr,” he said shamelessly, brushing his nose along her cheek. “And I like when my mate forgets how to form full sentences.”

She bit his collarbone gently in retaliation, mumbling against his skin, “You’re lucky I’m still recovering or I’d flip us again.”

“I dare you,” he growled, fangs flashing in challenge.

The shadows curled around them in a soft dance of amused chaos—like even the darkness knew this kind of wild, dangerous love was rare. And sacred.

Page 155

Nalu’s hum was low, velvety, filled with that mischievous curiosity that always preceded chaos. “I wonder what happens if I shift in your world… in this darkness,” she murmured, eyes flickering around the shadow-drenched room like she could feel them breathing, listening, waiting.

Jimmy tensed slightly beneath her, not in fear—but reverence. The shadows around them thickened, still and alert, like sentient beasts holding their breath. Even the air felt different now, heavier, more electric.

She exhaled and let her body relax completely into his, eyes slipping shut as she let her instincts take over. The kind of quiet that dropped next wasn’t just silence. It was that spiritual stillness—the kind you felt before a hurricane split the sky. And then—

FLASH.

A bright, eerie light stuttered through the room like a busted horror movie projector—slow, broken, haunting.

FLASH.

Jimmy blinked into the sudden pulses, his breath catching in his throat as he felt it—something ancient clawing through the veil. This wasn’t the kitten. This wasn’t the panther. This was something else entirely.

FLASH.

When the light stopped, the darkness seemed to recoil, not in fear—but awe. And sitting in his lap no longer was the woman he had just cradled and kissed.

Before him now stood the embodiment of something divine and terrible. Towering over him, her skin the color of sacred earth, painted in deep indigo, glimmering under the strobe of power. Her long black hair whipped like a storm, and her eyes—glowed. Multiple arms unfurled with slow grace, tipped in gold and crimson, and her mouth twisted into a smile that belonged to something old. Worshipped.

A crown of skulls shimmered into place, and the air carried the scent of marigolds and blood.

Jimmy’s breath rattled out of him, chest heaving. “Kali…” he whispered, voice hoarse with disbelief.

She didn’t speak. She radiated.

And somewhere within that radiant chaos, he still felt her—Nalu. But she was cloaked in something far beyond this realm. She had unknowingly summoned her ancestral bloodline through instinct alone, channeled the divine spirit of her Bangladeshi side.

His shadows didn’t touch her.

They bowed.

Jimmy, immortal and hardened through centuries of blood, loss, and warfare—could only stare in awe, heart hammering like a novice. “Mate,” he breathed, not as a claim… but as a prayer.

Because whatever this form was… was holy. And she had only just begun to unlock what she truly was.

Page 156

The air trembled around her.

The shadows Jimmy once commanded had fallen utterly silent—no longer living extensions of him but worshippers knelt in reverence. The divine presence before him moved with the grace of galaxies, slow and devastating. Kali, in form, wasNalu—but older, more ancient than memory itself. The room throbbed with the sacred hum of creation and destruction.

She tilted her head and began to move, and every step was a strike of fate itself. Anklets jingled with an otherworldly rhythm, a cadence older than drums or heartbeat. Her arms—so many arms—stretched out and then inward, cradling something invisible, her voice speaking in layers. Multiple tones. Multiple tongues. A thousand souls whispering through her.

“You called me, child of my blood.”

Her voice wasn’t human. Not fully. It was deep, laced with echoes that reverberated across dimensions. One part sang in Bengali, another in Mayan, and the last in something unnameable.

Jimmy couldn’t breathe. His throat tightened at the weight of it all. And yet her glowing eyes, burning with wisdom and fire, turned on him with something that felt like recognition.

“You love her. You drank from her. Fused soul to soul. And now… you face the burden of balance.”

She floated closer, arms still extended, and it took everything in him not to fall to his knees. Even with all his age, his strength—he was a child in her presence.

“The child within does not know the doors she has opened. Her body carries old blood. Divine blood. It chose you as anchor, vampire. You… ancient hunter… beloved of the night… are now tethered to something far older than you.”

Her hands—six of them—gestured in slow loops around her. At her chest, a faint glow bloomed where Nalu’s heart would’ve beat. It pulsed with chaotic light.

“She summoned me not with ritual—but with instinct. She is not just reborn—she is awakened. You are her guide in this darkness. Her hunger is not only for blood.”

Kali leaned forward slightly, her aura brushing against his chest like a solar flare.

“You must not bind her. You must not break her. You must hold her freely—or you will lose her, and all of this world with her.”

Then, her voice softened—not in volume, but in depth. Like thunder turned gentle rainfall.

“She is mine. And yet… she is yours.”

And just like that, a flicker.

The air warped—time stuttered—and the glowing sigils that had lined the room faded. Her towering form flickered like a flame and began to draw inward, collapsing back into the center of her own light.

As the shadows stilled and the silence returned, Jimmy found himself once again holding Nalu—her smaller, beautifully mortal frame curled in his lap.

Her breath steady.

Her skin still glowing faintly with divinity.

But her eyes, when they opened, were hers. Soft and brown, rimmed with gold. Still wild. Still dangerous. But utterly her.

And Jimmy…

Jimmy just held her tighter, voice low and reverent.

“Fuck… you really are the end of me, aren’t you?”

Page 157

Nalu blinked, dazed but very much herself again, nestled against Jimmy’s chest like she hadn’t just transformed into a divine nightmare made flesh. She rubbed her eyes lazily, as if waking from a vivid nap and not a supernatural possession.

Then she tilted her head, her curls bouncing, and scrunched her nose. “Sooo… what was I?” she asked casually, as if they hadn’t just flirted with godhood and mass destruction. “Did I turn into something less cat this time? Maybe something with bigger teeth? Like a shark?” Her tone was teasing, but her curiosity was real.

Jimmy just stared at her.

Literally stared. His lips parted slightly, chest still rising and falling like he was recovering from a fucking spiritual ass-beating.

She blinked at him again and wiggled her fingers in front of his face. “Hello? Fatu. Don’t die on me now.”

He finally let out a breath and gave a half-crazed, half-awed laugh. “You… You turned into a goddess, Nalu.”

She paused. “Okay but… like… a hot one?”

His face twitched—part grin, part exasperation, part what the actual hell just happened. “The goddess. Kali. Like, wrath-of-the-heavens, time-eating, universe-leveling divine feminine chaos.”

Nalu made an “ooh” sound and raised her brows. “No wonder I felt spicy.”

Jimmy was still staring at her, as if trying to decide whether to wrap her in protective spells or lock her in a vault or just worship at her feet. “You didn’t just shift, baby. You invoked something inside you. Something ancient. Something powerful. You didn’t even blink. You were just… her.”

She tilted her head in thought. “So… not a shark. Definitely not a kitten this time, huh?”

Jimmy let out a low groan and dragged a hand down his face, the veins in his arms still pulsing with the aftershock of her divine magic. “You weren’t even close to a damn shark.”

Nalu grinned like a menace, leaning forward to press a kiss to his jaw. “Bet I still had bigger teeth, though.”

Jimmy’s eyes narrowed as he caught her chin between his fingers and turned her face toward him gently but firmly. “You were beautiful. Terrifying. Divine. And if that ever happens again, I need you to warn me first, so I don’t piss myself or throw you into a goddamn blood ward out of instinct.”

She smirked. “You’re still alive though, which means I’ve got control. Ish. I think.”

He pulled her tighter into his lap, pressing his forehead to hers with a deep, steadying breath. “You’re chaos in every form you take, Nalu. And you’re mine. Every last terrifying, purring, bloodthirsty, goddess-touched inch.”

She sighed contently. “Mmm. That sounded like husband talk again. Careful, Fatu. My inner goddess might come back and demand a ceremony.”

Page 158

Nalu sat perched on his lap again like nothing was off-balance, her legs curled to one side and her fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of Jimmy’s shirt. Her head tilted lazily as she hummed to herself, like she was piecing together a recipe from vague-ass instructions.

"Okay, so,” she started, voice casual like they weren’t deep in the catacombs under New York and she hadn’t just gone full divine chaos-mode, “I’ve got mood-changing, feline-based Mayan weirdness. That’s a solid start.”

Jimmy gave a quiet grunt under his breath—an acknowledgment and a warning in one.

She didn’t pause. “Then there’s the whole vampire thing—which, by the way, still wild I bit you in the middle of us having a moment and didn’t even flinch.”

He smirked a little, rubbing his hand in slow circles over her thigh. “You were hungry, baby. You’re always allowed to take what’s yours.”

Her lip quirked, and she bumped her forehead against his like a nuzzle before leaning back and continuing her chaotic inventory aloud. “So… vampire. Apex panther form. Cutest damn kitten on Earth. Then a whole-ass Bengali goddess just hijacked my body and said I summoned her with the chaos in me… sooo, we’re adding possession to the list.”

Jimmy’s brow lifted but he said nothing, his gaze fixed on her in a kind of reverent attention he rarely gave anyone else.

She tapped her fingers against her thigh in rhythm. “So let’s tally this up: bloodlust, claws, shifting, possession, divine channeling... probably feral tendencies… mood-based transformations… unexplained ancient instinct… and bad bitch behavior.”

Jimmy let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You forgot terrifying. And sexy as hell. And mine.”

Nalu rolled her eyes but there was a smile twitching at her lips. “Okay, fine. But what are these powers for though? Like… what’s the purpose? Am I a weapon? Am I a goddess’s human Airbnb? Do I go full Avatar: The Last Chaosbender in crisis moments? What’s the endgame here, Fatu?”

His eyes darkened a bit, thoughtful and still drinking her in like the mystery she was. “I don’t think the point of you is destruction, Nalu. Not completely. I think you were born to balance it. You're chaos and order. Hunger and mercy. Cat and queen.”

She blinked slowly, then arched a brow. “You think I’m the whole yin and yang package?”

“I think,” he said, dragging a finger down her arm slowly, “you’re becoming what you were always meant to be. And I think the powers—whatever they are—aren’t done revealing themselves yet.”

Nalu tilted her head. “You’re back on your mystical sensei shit again.”

Jimmy grinned. “I’m just telling you what my bones say.”

She let out a breath, slow and steady. “Then I guess we better figure it out before the next god drops in for a surprise possession.”

He leaned in, his voice low and reverent against her temple, “No matter what comes… we figure it out together. Fangs, gods, claws, and all.”

Nalu looked down at their linked fingers and nodded once, her voice softer now. “Yeah… together sounds right.”

Page 159

“Shit—dammit!” Nalu hissed, voice gone high and panicked as her body rippled like water disturbed, the soft warmth curling in her chest too much, too fucking much.

Poof.

In a flash of shifting air and ancient energy, she vanished from Jimmy’s lap with a tiny pop! and all that remained was the sudden flick of a velvet tail disappearing into the folds of shadows surrounding them.

Jimmy blinked once, twice.

Then looked down.

A barely-there shimmer of movement swirled near his knee. His shadows, alive and loyal, shifted like black waves parting to reveal what they’d nearly swallowed whole: the tiniest black kitten in creation, her glowing red eyes blinking slowly up at him from the dark. Like a gremlin made of fur and attitude.

She was basically invisible in his world—his darkness cloaked her like she was born of it, a little heartbeat tucked beneath waves of shadow and smoke. All teeth and pout, tail twitching with what could only be feline irritation.

Jimmy pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaled through it, and looked like he was fighting back a laugh.

“Aue, really?” he muttered, the corners of his mouth betraying him with a smirk. “You got so soft on me you short-circuited into kitten mode?”

The kitten narrowed her glowing eyes like don’t you dare, tail twitching faster now.

“Oh no, baby, you don’t get to be mad. I was being sweet. This is what happens when you catch feelings, huh? You fuzz up.”

The kitten huffed. Straight up turned her head with a dramatic flick, like a diva cat who’d been slighted by her butler.

Jimmy leaned down, his massive hand reaching into the shadows to gently scoop her up. She let out a grumbly little sound but didn’t fight him—her tiny paws just squished up to her chest as he lifted her into the crook of his arm.

“Nalu,” he said in a slow whisper against her fuzzy kitten head, brushing his nose along her fur, “you keep reacting like this every time I love on you, I’m gonna start doing it on purpose.”

Purr.

“Oh, now you wanna be soft again? That’s what I thought.”

His shadows pulled tighter around them, cocooning her in the warm dark, and Jimmy laid back fully, holding the moody little fluffball to his chest where her purring only grew louder. One big hand stroked along her spine, the rhythm slow and sure.

“Yeah… you can stay a kitten all you want, princess. I’ll love every version of you.”

A low little meow answered him, soft and sleepy.

He grinned like a fool in love. Because he was.

Page 160

A tiny smack! from a velvet paw caught Jimmy right on the chin.

“Ow— oh you really wanna act brand new?” he chuckled, sitting up as Nalu’s kitten eyes narrowed like she’d been personally offended by affection. Her twitching ears said it all.

Then—poof.

Like a greased shadow with claws, the little black furball launched herself out of his lap with speed that defied the size of her fluff. She bolted straight through the dense veil of his shadows and out the bathroom like a fuzzy cannonball.

“Nalu!” Jimmy called after her, grinning wide and already moving to stand. “You better not knock over my cologne again, I swear—”

But she was gone. Scampering across the stone halls, slipping beneath furniture, tail high like a fuzzy victory flag.

The sleek click of her claws echoed as she bolted up through a few levels of the sanctuary, a fast-moving blur of dark fluff and defiance. And then—bam.

The living room.

The lounge was lit low, the ancient stone walls washed in amber sconces. Zahra was nestled on Sefa’s lap again, her long legs stretched across the couch, her braid slung over one shoulder while Nyah had her head leaned on Jey’s chest as he braided sections of her curls.

And then… a literal puff of movement.

“Wait—what the hell?” Zahra sat upright.

The tiny black kitten stood center room, tail twitching, ears perked high. Her red eyes locked on them all.

Sefa blinked dramatically. “Ayo—is that her again?”

“She poofed,” Nyah deadpanned, “again.”

“She keeps doing that,” Jey muttered, squinting. “Why is it always when Jimmy says sweet shit?”

The kitten gave an audibly offended mrrrow! and marched forward like she was on a mission.

Sefa laughed low. “I swear to god this lil’ fluffball is just chaos incarnate. Ain’t no way—”

Then Nalu picked up speed and barreled straight for him.

“Oh sh—!”

He didn’t even have time to react before she climbed his leg like a tree, using his joggers for grip. She sat proudly on his thigh like a dramatic stage actor, tail curled high and giving Jimmy—who had just entered the room—a look like:

Do it again, old man. See what happens.

Zahra wheezed. “She’s out here challenging his whole love language with paws and petty.”

“Why is she still cute tho,” Nyah sighed. “I want to be mad. I really do.”

Jimmy crossed his arms, standing at the threshold, watching his chaotic little kitten steal the show yet again. His eyes sparkled with an unholy mix of adoration and exasperation.

“Girl, you are so lucky you’re adorable in every form,” he called out.

Nalu blinked up at him once, innocently.

Then she stuck her tongue out.

Like a menace.

Page 161

Jimmy took a slow step forward, voice dipping into something low and melodic, soft but commanding—like thunder whispering behind closed clouds. “Alright, baby… come on back to me. Enough mischief, yeah?” he murmured.

The tiny black kitten flattened her ears.

Then, in an act of pure petty protest, she burrowed deeper into the crook of Sefa’s thick shoulder and neck. Her little paws curled under her, tail wrapping around his throat like she was claiming him by proximity. Sefa’s brows shot up in absolute panic, hands raised like bro I don’t even know what’s happening right now—

“She really pickin’ me for her petty nap spot?” he whispered.

Jimmy didn’t answer right away.

Because something else shifted.

The light dimmed—not from the sconces, but from something deeper. Dark tendrils flickered from Jimmy’s skin like trailing smoke, inky and ancient. His tattoos pulsed under his skin, glowing faintly before bleeding into shadow. His eyes darkened, not black, but a kind of endless velvet—infinite.

Jey stood sharply from the couch, eyes narrowing. “Wait—uce… did you drop the veil?”

Jimmy didn’t say anything, but the air answered for him. Heavy. Power-laced. Thick with something old.

Even Nyah sat up straighter, her eyes flicking from her mate to Jimmy. “You haven’t done that in centuries.”

Zahra blinked slow, the glass in her hand nearly forgotten. “You only drop the veil when you let your magic bleed in the open.”

Sefa looked between them all, holding very still. “So… should I be worried she chose to curl up on me right now?”

Nalu, oblivious or deeply aware, let out a soft purr, curling tighter into Sefa’s neck. Jimmy took another step forward.

“Baby girl…” he said again, lower this time, almost dangerous. “Come back.”

But the kitten only yawned, stretched lazily across Sefa’s chest, and batted one paw gently against his jaw like no.

Jimmy exhaled through his nose.

“Oh she petty-petty tonight,” Jey muttered, eyes wide. “She said no to your bonded command?”

Nyah tilted her head, observing the shadows licking Jimmy’s fingers. “She didn’t reject it… she’s just ignoring it.”

“Which means,” Zahra murmured, voice equal parts amused and stunned, “she doesn’t fear his darkness at all.”

“Or,” Sefa groaned, still frozen with a giant puff of black cat on him, “she thinks she owns it.”

Jimmy just smiled faintly, eyes locked on the bundle of fluff curled against his brother’s throat.

“Oh, she thinks she runnin’ shit?”

He moved forward again—slow, steady. His shadows thickened in his veins like midnight vines, trailing down to his fingertips. And in that moment, every immortal in that room knew:

The shadows may belong to him. But she? She was the only one he’d ever let command them.

Page 162

Like a little puff of chaos incarnate, the kitten launched herself—ears flat, tail a blur behind her—as she avoided the dark shadow tendril that slid from Jimmy’s palm like an elegant whip of silk and smoke.

Poomf!

She landed squarely on top of Jey’s head.

“What the f—” Jey froze, his hands lifting like he’d just been crowned by a possessed feather duster with an attitude problem.

Little razor claws dug into his scalp just enough to let him know she meant business. Her tiny feline body balanced perfectly on his dark curls, her red eyes narrowed and flashing like twin rubies. Then—hisss!—a sound more petty than threatening spilled out of her.

Jey winced as she swatted at a wisp of Jimmy’s shadow still trailing her like a lasso. “Yo! UCE! She’s on me!”

Nalu smacked the shadow tendril again with an offended baby paw like, Don’t touch me, peasant.

Jimmy stood still, biting back a smile that definitely looked like he wanted to laugh but also wanted to throw his mate over his shoulder and lock her in a velvet-lined room forever.

“She did not just hiss at me like that,” Jimmy murmured, jaw flexing.

“She did,” Nyah said, not even hiding her snort.

“Lil demon thinks this a game,” Zahra added, sipping from her glass like it was a movie night.

“Correction,” Sefa called from across the room, hand pressed to his chest dramatically. “She’s winning the game.”

Nalu, with all the ego of a housecat who thinks they run the rent, began kneading Jey’s head. Like she was fluffing her throne.

“Really?!” Jey growled. “She makin’ biscuits on my scalp?!”

“She claiming you,” Nyah laughed. “Or asserting dominance.”

“Maybe both,” Zahra smirked.

Jimmy’s eye twitched as his shadow curled at his feet, low and slow like smoke off lava.

“Alright, baby,” he said, voice rough and dark and dragging from his chest. “You wanna play alpha? Cute. Real cute. But don’t forget—”

He opened his hand, the shadow tendril flickering once, coiling in the air.

“Even little queens can get dethroned.”

Nalu didn’t flinch.

She just puffed up, tail flicking proudly. Then she bent down and bit Jey’s ear. Not hard—just enough to make her point.

Sefa screeched laughing from the corner. “Ayo, she said don’t test me, Jimmy!”

Jimmy’s eyes burned darker.

And oh… the chase was on.

Page 163

The temperature dropped first. Sharp. Like breath slicing through winter.

Then came the light.

Not soft. Not golden. It flashed in flickers like lightning caught in a mirror—blinding, erratic, wrong in the way divinity always is when it slips into mortal rooms.

The kitten on Jey’s head froze. Her tiny body stiffened, pupils flaring before her shape shattered into something wholly other.

A crack in the room's very air—like the universe had a bone that just snapped.

And there she was again.

Kali.

All six arms. Drenched in blue-black skin, obsidian eyes burning with fire and storms. Her golden piercings shimmered like warning lights, and the red marks smeared across her brow pulsed like they were alive. That long, onyx tongue flicked briefly at the air, and all hell hushed.

Even the shadows Jimmy called family recoiled.

Jey took two full steps back without realizing it, his voice caught in his throat. “Nope.”

Nyah stood still as a statue, eyes wide but posture unmoving, her vampire instincts screaming reverence.

Sefa? Already ducked behind Zahra with a “I ain’t ready to meet no gods tonight!”

Kai tripped over his own feet, slamming into the hallway wall as the goddess’ golden-ringed eyes swept the room like a blade searching for soft spots.

Jimmy stood still.

Chest rising. Jaw clenched.

He felt her eyes lock on him. Felt the weight of something older than heaven and far more honest.

Kali’s voice slithered through the space like thunder beneath skin.

“Who’s playing with the child’s chaos?”

She didn’t yell. Didn’t raise a single weapon.

And still—every vampire in that room felt violated, like their secrets had been stripped and flung before an altar of something greater.

Jimmy’s shadows stilled.

He bowed his head slightly, eyes never leaving hers. “She’s mine. I wouldn’t disrespect your gift.”

Kali’s head tilted slowly. Her many arms crossed in a way that looked too fluid, too graceful, like gravity didn’t dare tell her no.

“She walks the line of blood and stars,” the goddess murmured. “And you chase her scent with mortal tongue and undead heart. You will not cage the jaguar with pretty names and mating marks. She belongs to no one.”

Zahra whispered low to Nyah, “This some ancient shit.”

Nyah didn’t blink. “This is chaos incarnate.”

The goddess looked once more at Jimmy, then to the dark corner where the shadows still clung. Her lip curled—not in anger, but something like… amusement.

“She is mine. And yours. If you keep her fed.”

Then—gone.

No wind. No exit. Just gone. And the air rushed back like it’d been holding its breath in terror.

Everyone stood frozen.

Jey let out a slow, shaky exhale. “Okay... soooo maybe we do not tease the kitten anymore.”

Sefa looked around, then pointed where Kali had been.

“Is it weird if I say I almost pissed myself?”

Zahra didn’t even blink. “Nah. I already did.”

Jimmy just stood in the aftermath, staring at the space where his mate’s chaos had summoned divinity.

And the terrifying part?

It made him love her more.

Page 164

Nalu stood stark naked—again—in the center of the room like it wasn’t the eighth time today she’d popped out of clothes like a reverse magician. Her hands were on her hips, curls wild, chest rising with attitude and chaos still humming in her aura like static.

She looked around at the stunned silence, eyebrows shooting up. “Okay… why is everyone lookin’ at me like I just grew fifteen heads?”

Jey blinked slow like he was rebooting. “You basically did.”

“Wait—seriously?!” She gasped, looking down at her body like she expected serpent heads to sprout from her hips. “Did I finally turn into a hydra or some kind of sexy sea dragon?! Please tell me there was fire.”

Jimmy dragged a hand down his face, trying not to laugh. “No, amor… Kali came back.”

She frowned. “Again? I didn’t even feel her this time!” Her pout deepened into a full-blown brat-mode. “Ugh, that’s sounfair. Why does she keep jumping in without at least a heads up? I wanna talk to her too—set some ground rules or have, like, a roommate agreement.”

Sefa, cautiously standing behind Zahra now, whispered under his breath, “Ain’t no talking to goddesses when they come in like hurricanes, girl.”

Nalu huffed, clearly unconvinced, and marched over to the massive sectional couch like it had personally offended her. She flopped onto the cushions, folding her arms under her bare chest like a grumpy little chaos bomb.

“She’s using me like a damn Uber Pool and I don’t even get to share snacks or playlist privileges,” she muttered, nose scrunched. “And all of y’all actin’ like I turned into the boogeyman when really, I was just a lil’ hungry kitten twenty minutes ago!”

“Correction,” Zahra said dryly, arms folded, “you were a terrifying panther, and then you straight up god-moded and gave our vampire hearts spiritual indigestion.”

“Facts,” Nyah added calmly, sipping her now-returned glass of blood. “You roared like creation itself. I still got chills in places that haven’t been warm in centuries.”

Kai was in the back with a faint prayer under his breath, “I'm just a servant, I’m just a servant…”

Jimmy moved behind the sectional, leaned down and pressed a kiss to Nalu’s temple, his voice low against her heated skin. “You are chaos, mi corazón… but you’re ours. Next time she comes through… maybe you’ll remember. Maybe you won’t. But you're still you.”

Nalu cracked a smile, side-eyeing him. “I better at least get a loyalty card or points toward enlightenment or something.”

Sefa snorted. “You got a free shift into a cosmic panther. That was your prize.”

She flipped him the finger without turning her head. “You’re just mad I didn’t imprint on you again.”

“Don’t manifest that,” Zahra said, clutching her forehead. “Please don’t manifest that.”

The group groaned in unison.

And there, glowing faint in the center of the chaos, sat the unpredictable chaos child of blood, darkness, and ancient power… butt-naked and pouting like a toddler who wanted her juice box.

[blotandfangs]

Press F to Flee II

Some nights later, Kleo returned to Idia’s room. There was no game controller in her hands this time, but book recommended by Ortho. She perched quietly on the edge of the bed, clutching the thick book with a leather cover worn soft by age.

“I am recovering” she said softly when Idia glanced up from his screen, controller poised. “Too much horror. I just want to be near someone. Diasomnia's silent is too loud today and Ortho gave me this book about blot and curses and I may have questions for you.”

Idia blinked, surprised. “You don’t want to play?”

Kleo shook her head, eyes tracing the familiar glyphs printed on her book’s pages. “Not tonight, Square. I want to read and listen to you play. Go on. You will not even know I am here.”

The glow of the screen painted the room in shifting blues and greens. Idia settled back in his chair, controller clicking steadily. He could feel her presence close by: quiet, patient, like a red shadow. He was relieved she didn't want to play.

Every so often, Kleo would peek up from her book, eyes drifting to his face as he concentrated and screamed at the game. With the feeling of having a vampire on his back, Idia could barely pay attention to the game. If that's her plan, today is the best day to end him! No one would hear him scream! And Ortho was on recharging cycle.

Minutes slipped by in this rhythm: Kleo turning pages softly, Idia navigating digital worlds with heavy tension on his shoulders.

While waiting a loading screen, Idia, half-leaned into his chair, was staring at her through the reflection of the dark screen. She was still. So still. Scary as hell. Dead person. Dead? Is she rotting? On his room?

Finally, when he was sure Ortho's recharge cycle had entered deep silence mode, Idia spoke. Quiet, barely above a whisper, scared to even hear the answer.

“…Are you really undead?”

The question hung in the air like a spell, slow and careful. The kind you only ask when no one else can hear. Kleo blinked, lifting her gaze from the page. Her eyes met his through the reflection of the screen.

“Yes,” she said, voice calm. “I did die. A long time ago.”

Idia didn’t turn around. He kept watching her in the screen’s mirrored flicker, as though turning would make the moment too real for him. Creepy. Terrifying.

“Did it hurt?” he asked.

She was quiet for a while. Then, softly: “Probably. I do not really remember dying. The waking was horrible. Worst pain I ever felt.”

That answer settled in his chest like a glitch that became silent, irreversible. He nodded once. His reflection flickered, but hers remained steady. There, in the corner of his vision, she stayed gently haunting.

“…So you're stuck like this? Forever paused?”

Kleo chuckles faintly “Not paused. Just changed. Time does not move the same for me anymore. It can be quite a hassle, but not really bad.”

Idia swallowed, still not looking at her directly. “That’s… heavy.”

“It is lonelier than one might expect” she said, her fingers ghosting over the edge of the book and avoiding to look at him now “And I hate being alone, so there is a cycle, you know? Everyone I love will die around me. No matter how close they are now, I’ll have to grieve them one day.”

She turned a page she wasn't reading. “That is why I like Malleus. And Ortho, actually. They are not so fragile. Thought I do not really understand Ortho yet.”

“You won't need to grieve him” Idia felt something sharp twist low in his stomach.

There was no mockery in his voice. No irony. Just a crack. Something raw beneath the usual static.

He stared at her reflection again, fingers twitching nervously. “Have you… seen a lot of people die?”

Kleo took some seconds to answer, now staring at him trying to understand his curiosity. Then, slowly, she gives a response “Yes. Some were strangers. Some were friends. Some were as close as family. Some I tried to save. Some I had to let go.”

She folded her book, resting her head against the wall looking at the ceiling. “I remember some of their names, but not all of them. And I do not remember their faces or their voice. I do not know which is worse.”

Idia’s chest tightened. He stared into the screen, into her reflection, and whispered before he could stop himself:

“Did any of them come back?”

Kleo blinked. “Back?”

He swallowed. “After they… after they died. Did any of them come back?”

This time, the silence wasn’t gentle. It was sharp. Kleo sat up straight slowly, sensing the shift in the conversation, now turned personal, even if he hadn’t said why or explained the question.

“No,” she said quietly. “None of them came back. Only me.”

His jaw clenched.

Kleo’s gaze went to his back. “Why do you ask?”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

Because his brother hadn’t come back. Not really. Because Ortho— the Ortho in this room— was perfect, bright, and artificial. A shadow in the shape of love. A masterpiece built over a grave.

Idia forced out a small laugh that didn’t reach his eyes “Just curious.” He wished it was a virtual conversation. If it was, he could turn off his tablet and pretend to be asleep.

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Kleo was also quiet for a long while. Idia hadn’t gone back to playing. The controller sat in his lap, untouched. Ortho's soft recharge hum filled the room like distant waves.

Kleo shifted just slightly, then spoke, her voice soft enough that it could’ve been mistaken for the rustle of turning pages.

“Square, can I ask you something?”

The reaction was instant.

“No” Idia said sharply, cutting her off before the words even left her lips. His voice cracked at the edges, like glass just before it shatters.

Kleo blinked, caught off guard, but she didn’t flinch. She didn’t protest. Just studied him quietly.

He wasn’t looking at her, not even through the screen now. His eyes were fixed on the monitor, but it was obvious he wasn’t seeing anything. His knuckles were white around the controller. His posture hunched in on itself, like he was physically bracing against something heavy, something old.

“I know what you’re going to ask,” he muttered. “And I’m not talking about it.” His breath hitched slightly. “Not now. Not ever.”

The pain in the air was suffocating. Not the kind that screamed or sobbed. The kind that sat, cold and immovable, like stone pressed to the chest. Kleo recognized it. The kind that came from a wound that never healed properly. She closed her book quietly and sat still.

“That is okay” she said, with no judgment, no pressure.

Her voice held no pity, just knowing. Quiet compassion from someone who had lived through too many funerals. Someone who had learned, the hard way, when not to ask for more than someone could give.

Idia’s breath was shaky. He curled in tighter, shoulders drawn up like armor that couldn’t protect him anymore.

“I will leave now. Need to go back before dawn. Vampire, you know” she pretends to laugh, but leaves anyway to give him space.

Space to break.

[catsconflictscopicsandchamomile]

okay yall asked for this

(also if any facts/dates on this are incorrect, its 1am and im supposed to be doing SO many other things so. correct me if u want but if not idfc)

Hwæt, the earliest roots of what we now consider "vampire lore" tend to fall into a few different types : Restless spirit (usually due to some wrongdoing or sin in life), Walking corpse (more or less a zombie with slightly more sentience and a much slower infection rate), Wizard who did this on purpose, Wizard who did this on purpose and is still alive, but is also a vampire, but will be even MORE of a vampire when they die, Wizard who shapeshifts into an animal to do vampire things, Vampire who vampires in the form of an animal but isn't a wizard, or, rarely, Cursed god or mortal transformed into a monstrous form by a god.

While all of these forms could, in most cases, have children with humans, most/all stories of this do not have the vampire as the child-bearing member of the couple, so it's unknown whether vampires can produce milk (I THOUGHT there was a rly prominent example of them producing milk buttt couldn't find it. may have gotten it mixed up w a Hindu myth that afaik isn't about vampires)

However, looking at the various "Wizard and/or Shifter" subtypes specifically, it should be noted that the Wizards, being wizards, are also capable of shapeshifting and employ it near-constantly to slip closer to their victims and generally move about undetected. The most common animal form found in these pre-modern-understanding vampires is not bats, but wolves. In fact, MANY older stories of vampires of any sort depict them as, if not outright able to become wolves, then wolflike in other ways such as teeth or excessive body hair. Half-vampires specifically (Dhampir, or "daywalkers" as they're apparently being called lately) were originally said to be VERY wolflike- hairy with pointed ears, pale eyes and a tail- and were destined to become vampires after their death.

A really, REALLY good example of this ambiguity is the Vrykolakas, a Greek & South Slavic creature who is widely regarded to be a major predecessor to today's understanding of the "Vampire". However, not only does the root of the word "Vrykolaka" trace back to meanings of "hairy", "wolflike" and "wolf", the term PERSISTS UNCHANGED TODAY in many slavic languages

MEANING "WEREWOLF"

despite the fact that the creature it has (at least at many points in history) referred to went on to be a foundational part of succeeding VAMPIRE lore.

A huge transitional example here, is of course, Dracula himself, for whom Bram Stoker took PLENTY of inspiration from both Slavic and Gaelic sources on blood-drinkers. While Dracula is most famous nowadays for taking the form of a bat, to the extent that it is largely seen as an inherent trait of the "Vampire" (and some vampires have even felt the need to specifically refute this misconception), this is not the animal that Dracula is associated with most in the book- instead Dracula regularly controls and communes with, and more ambiguously may take the form of, wolves. Even if the text is interpreted to mean that Dracula isn't fully shifting to be a wolf, he is nonetheless takes the form of a dog, and in human form is still given the trademark oddly-placed hairiness (specifically on the hands) still found in modern werewolves. The wolves that serve him seem to signal both Dracula and each other by howling, a clear sign that they consider him to be a member of their pack, if not a leader.

anyway, what I'm getting at here is that werewolves and vampires descend from a common ancestor, only splitting off *WITHIN THE LAST CENTURY* as this ancestor species (or story, if you still want to b academic abt this mess) dispersed outwards- it seems, from what I've observed, that what began as more of a "cultural drift" between the Shifter and Undead subtypes of this creature became increasingly distinct as more Shifting-reliant communities mingled and interbred with other types of shifter they encountered, and the Undead (or perhaps more accurately Curse- or Magic-Reliant) communities likewise gravitated towards other undead, spirits and magic wielders

anyway it looks like they fucking hate each other now for some reason. I do NOT get it.

also, btw, the reason vampires can't see themselves in mirrors is because in earlier centuries, mirrors were made using silver, and vampires, LIKE WEREWOLVES NOW, were considered weak to silver. (Silver itself is... another topic for another day)

So, does this strong common ancestry with werewolves make Vampires mammals? Well. I don't fucking know

what I do know is that they definitely have hair

and while they don't "produce live young", they themselves are not alive- they are undead. and Vampires definitely produce more undead where there previously were not undead, in a (sometimes temporary) position of dependence and lower social freedoms to their creator. As for milk, while I have NO idea if vampires lactate, they do, in a detail that often goes untalked-about, feed their "young" their blood, specifically (if we go by Bram Stoker's Dracula) from a wound on the vampire's chest, in a way SPECIFICALLY REMINISCENT OF SUCKLING A YOUNG ANIMAL.

so, are vampires mammals?

I mean. imho @seveneyesoup has the best overall answer here. However, in that case, it was less "descent" from a true mammal and more of divergent evolution, and honestly any noticeable divergence occurred SO recently that I would call into doubt if it has reached the point of full speciation or is more of a case of behavioral markers defined and exaggerated by factionalism and the aforementioned confusing infighting.

but also its worth questioning if an organism that fits every other qualification of a "mammal" can be disqualified due to secreting a different bodily fluid to nourish its young, despite that fluid having an identical chemical purpose, and being secreted and fed to the young identically, to milk.

hope that helped

it probably didn't

I've just wanted to talk about the whole "vampires and werewolves were the same species until like 1920" thing for a BIT.

(also, while doing the BARE MINIMUM of research for this, I came across the fact that some guy in the 18th century wrote a story CALLED "Vrykolakas", where he describes the main undead character as a "Loup-garou" (werewolf) despite it being also pretty clearly a vampire. So werepires can also be rugaru (or at least the party-hard european variation) and that's knowledge I'm just going to have to live with now)

(also some translations of the story "Vrykolakas" (originally in french) translate "loup-garou" as "bug-bear" and I fucking give up I don't know. it has fur in at least some places that humans dont, it will eat you, and if it was born alive it might not be anymore, idk just shut your fucking windows at night holy shit)

[h50europe]

MERTHUR BLOODLUST - Chapter 1

MERTHUR - BLOODLUST (a Merthur AU where Merlin is a vampire and a sorcerer, living under a roof with Arthur, who knows about his secrets. The prince left the family castle after a fallout with his father, who hates all supernatural creatures. Uther let his demon hunters terrorize the entire town. The friendship between the prince and the vampire stems from the night Arthur left the castle. Wasted, he ended up in a dark alley, where he would almost get killed by a bunch of were creatures if it weren't for Merlin, who protected him and took him in until he sobered up. Since that night, they have looked after each other and tried to deal with their growing feelings for each other.) Steampunk era (therefore mentioning of modern stuff like a fridge, cell phones, apps etc.)

Chapter 1

"Holy Christ, you are bleeding!" Worried, Arthur dropped to his knees beside Merlin, who groaned as he applied pressure to the nasty gash in Merlin's side. Not because of the pain, but Arthur smelled delicious. Merlin's eyes focused on the throbbing vein in his friend's neck. Merlin wanted nothing more than to grab him by his silky blond hair and drag his throat to his mouth. Merlin's jaw ached as his fangs snapped free. Arthur's eyes widened. Of course, he knew his friend was a vampire. Only, until today he'd never seen him like this. Usually, Merlin was a master in disguising his true identity.

Merlin felt his undead life draining from him as he cast a pleading look at his friend. "Please help me inside."

"Merlin, I..."

"Please."

Arthur never did what Merlin asked, and Merlin never said please. So that was a night of firsts. Arthur's heartbeat thundered in his chest as he grabbed him under his armpits to drag him over the threshold. Merlin could hear it but also smelled the blond's angst.

"Tell me what to do," Arthur said, ready to pull up his sleeve. Another first.

God, this man would die for him. Merlin shook his head. "I would kill you my noble friend in my current state, because you can't stop me from drinking. I would drain you to the very last drop."

Shame barely broke through his thirst, as he licked his lower lip, teasing the tip of his fangs with his tongue.

"There is blood in the freezer," Merlin whispered.

On his way to the kitchen Arthur almost tripped over his own feet. The artificial glow of the freezer light illuminated his silhouette that was wrapped in a cloud of condensation. Merlin's vision blurred. The next thing he knew, Arthur was shoving a bag of blood into his face. Every instinct in his undead body screamed to drag Arthur down and suck him dry. God, he smelled delicious, the warmth emanating from his body was more than tempting. Compared to his friend the packaged blood smelled like garbage.

Merlin tried to lift his arms. Due to the loss of blood his limbs disobeyed him. Humiliation paired with relief burned in Merlin's chest.

"Sorry, you have to feed me."

Raising one eyebrow, Arthur took the bag of blood, twisted the cap, and placed the nozzle in Merlin's mouth. Starving, Merlin closed his lips over it and also Arthur's fingers and sucked greedily. At the first burst of blood on his tongue, his hands shot up and he grabbed Arthur's wrists like a lifeline, forcing him into a half crouch as he swallowed. Merlin felt the energy flooding back into his body, counteracting the paralyses caused by the immense loss of blood. He didn't realize he was still sucking Arthur's fingers until the blond tried to pull his hand out of the crushing grip.

"Sorry," Merlin muttered, releasing his friend as his sanity returned.

Arthur sat back on his heels. He looked at his hands, unable to meet Merlin's gaze.

"Wanna tell me what happened?" he asked before clenching his jaw, still not looking at the vampire.

Merlin sat up slowly and tugged the ruined vest and shirt out of the way to watch his wound closing. The torn skin changed its color from black to pink and finally white. The scar was barely visible and would have disappeared in a few hours.

"Obviously someone wanted me dead."

"Care to elaborate?" Arthur kept digging.

"I got stabbed by one of your father's men. One of those useless vampire hunters." Merlin made a dismissive gesture.

"How in the world did he know you were a ..."

Arthur trailed off, the unspoken word hanging in the air like the sword of Damocles. To this day, Arthur had never uttered the word vampire in Merlin's presence. Merlin couldn't tell if it was denial or fear that kept him from saying it. Either way, it hurt.

"I bit him."

Arthur's brows shot up to his hairline. "I beg your pardon. You did what? But you told me you don't bite people."

"Well, in his case ... He asked me to," Merlin clarified.

Trying not to be insulted as Arthur leaned away from him. Because he didn't want Arthur to see the hurt look on his face, Merlin climbed to his feet, holding on to the wall to keep himself upright. His head swam.

Arthur remained kneeling in front of him. His hands were on his knees. It shouldn't have been sexy, but damn if he didn't look like a servant, his blond unruly hair tickling his forehead, his full lips slightly parted. If he wanted, he could unbutton the fly of Merlin's trousers, slide his fingers into the crease of Merlin's boxers and wrap those sinful lips around his...

Merlin shook his head, banishing the bloodlust. Arthur wasn't interested in Merlin sexually, and the vampire decided not to act on his silly crush. He was relieved when Arthur finally stood and walked into the kitchen to toss the empty blood bag into the bin and wash his hands. Any distance he put between them was a blessing.

"Why in the world would anyone ask to be bitten?" Arthur tried to sound curious. Only, the tension in his shoulders betrayed his disgust.

"Because it feels good," Merlin offered.

Arthur gave him a skeptical look in return. "Seriously?"

Merlin snorted, "Dear friend, you are doing a helluva job making me feel like a monster. But then thinking about how easy it had been to tear this asshole apart, I probably deserve to feel like one."

"You could have enchanted him," Arthur suggested.

"Nope. Not with the amount of vervain in his system. I could smell the stank of it. Unfortunately, too late."

Arthur dropped the dish towel next to the sink.

"I don't get it. How could being bitten something worth craving for?"

Merlin sighed. Was he really about to have the vampire equivalent of "the talk" with his oblivious flatmate? Merlin approached Arthur. The moment their eyes locked, the vampire knew that, yes, that was exactly what he was going to do.

(Chapter 2 here)