#Lachlan imagine

[buzzyb33]

Page rules!!

Requests are currently on!

MASTERLIST

I Will not write incest, non-con, yandere (like kidnapped), period sex, pregnant sex, pedophilia or detailed gore.

I will write fluff, angst, smut, legal age gaps, parent x kid, sex pollens, head cannons, sfw, full fictions and shit posts

Wary about threesomes, suicide/ sh

I’m really sorry about my writing, still rather new to it! But I’ll try.

I am mainly writing for my YouTube section right now and please please please request me anything you have in mind, also if their isn’t a YouTuber you want on the list ask that in a request!!

My master list is here.

Fandoms I’ll write for:

Spider man characters.

🕷️🕸️🤘🏽

Have fun with this one! I enjoy writing supernatural things!!

YouTubers:

mainly writing for these right now.

(That’s why they’re here and not in a different post)

All 7 sidemen

Beta squad

ChrisMD

James Marriott (lit my fav)

WillNe

Memeulous

Angry ginge

Jack manifold

George Clarke

Niki Nihachu

Jschlatt

Ted nivison

Karl Jacobs

Lazarbeam

Lachlan

Deji

Angry ginge

Danny Aarons

Callux

Chippo

Most of the other brits 🙏🏽

[notonlymice]

AU where Lachlan acquires a guitar, and when he tries to play it, weird things start happening. He thinks he has finally drunk himself into hallucinations, but no, the guitar is just haunted by Alice, its previous owner.

[clueless1995]

shane and lockie/lachy/whatever spelling variation are such australian names that i would be suspicious of a non aussie named that. curious what other countries versions of these are

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

The Good Omens Musical Masterpost🎵❤

How it started :)

Some time before 2013: Vicki Larnach, the australian composer and lyricist, read the Good Omens book, imagined figures dancing on stage with brilliant music and thought, ‘Ah, I’m gonna ask Terry Pratchet and Neil Gaiman if I can turn it into a musical.’ and sent an email to the publishers. The next day she got an email saying, ‘We don’t want a musical but Terry’s coming to Australia, so come and say hello and tell us what you got.’

Rob Wilkins came down to meet Vicki and Jim Hare - Vicki's husband and writer - and took them to meet Terry. They spent an hour and a half with them where Terry asked ‘piercing questions’, had tea with them and they showed Terry a song that Vicki wrote (about the Chattering Nuns). Terry said to Rob, ‘Rob, write and email to Neil, “Dear Neil, this is Terry. I’m sitting in front of two hippies from Sydney and they want to make a musical out of Good Omens and I’m tempted to let them do it.”’ which was the best email they ever heard and then Terry said, ‘Okay, you have me curious.’ - it was because of the Nuns song which sounded like the book. ‘I’m gonna give you six months, come back with a first draft libretto and five songs.’

They then sent it to Terry who sent it to Gaiman. Terry said, ‘I really like it, you’re moving story, you’re doing all the right things, but where’s showstopper, where’s the toe-tapper, you know I need people to go to intermission just snapping their fingers with the song they just can’t get out of their head, and I haven’t heard that.’ - and they realized that they were so busy serving the story they forgot to do the wow-factor, but found it very encouraging from Terry that he wanted to make it better.

They went through the whole book again to find a centrepiece - and they found it  when Warlock is growing up and Aziraphale and Crowley are with him, and spent months working just on that one thing and called ‘All Living Things’ [the song at the start of this post :)] which is a line from the book.*’ Terry gave that song to a person he knew and asked him to play it to his wife with no context and when the next day the person said that his wife woke up still singing the song Terry said to Vicki and Jim: ‘Well, that’s what I asked you to do.’ 

* [“This here’s Brother Slug,” the gardener would tell him, “and this tiny little critter is Sister Potato Weevil. Remember, Warlock, as you walk your way through the highways and byways of life’s rich and fulsome path, to have love and reverence for all living things.” “Nanny says that wivving fings is fit onwy to be gwound under my heels, Mr. Fwancis,” said little Warlock, stroking Brother Slug, and then wiping his hand conscientiously on his Kermit the Frog overall.]

Vicki and Jim got the permission to being adapting it as a musical in 2013.

Vicki and Jim on it a couple of years ‘fumbling about’, took it as far as they could and decided to bring another person into it: Jay-James Moody

In 2015, Jay James-Moody joined the collaboration initially as a dramaturge and directorial eye, eventually evolving into co-book writer. Vicki, James and Jay have continued to evolve through countless more revisions and a number of private development readings with the support, time and talent of numerous wonderful Australian performers testing the material.

In November 2017, the musical was presented in its then-current form and entirety for the first time before an audience of over 500 eager attendees. The cast included Luke Joslin, Lachlan O’Brien, Nancye Hayes, Barry Quin, Brett O’Neill, Lauren McKenna, Nicholas Craddock, Paul Capsis, Rob Johnson, Amy Lehpamer, Debora Krizak, Blake Erickson, Nat Jobe, Ana Maria Belo, Jordan Hare, Bella Thomas, Anthony Abrakmanov and Samson Hyland.

Following a rapturous response to this reading it continued to be refined and developed.

In 2019, ten days before the show came out they did their last presentation, since then they’ve been to London and shown a videotape of that workshop to Gaiman and Rob Wilkins which was ‘a pretty heartstopping experience’.

Differences between the musical and the book

The ending of the musical is a bit different.

It opens with the burning of Agnes Nutter and Aziraphale and Crowley are introduced there. 

Act One ends with them ‘essentially breaking up’ because of a huge argument and they dissolve their friendship, Act Two starts with the first time they meet.

The Future?

What is the future for the musical: in 2021 they said that they need to work on some things and then they hope to do another run, initially in Australia.

There will be a CD of the soundtrack available when the show is produced in it’s full version.

In 2024 on insta they said that it is in "complicated process of rights to stage Good Omens" and "We appreciate your support and patience of the progress or seeming lack therof, of Good Omens the musical but we assure you, we will bring you the show in the next few years."

Videos

Vicki, Jim and Jay talking 46min about the musical (this video was shown at the Ineffable Con 3 in 2021 :))

Sizzle Reel 6min

Anathema singing The Perfect Place

Crowley calling Dagon to check on the hellhound

Shadwell and Newt

Aziraphale vanishing Hastur 👀

Links

Webpage

Instagram - a lot of more bts videos and pics :)

How to support?

Subsribe to the instagram page and like and comment that you want the musical on posts :)❤. If you want to be a sponsor or donor, there is contact on their webpage.

[deathdetermineslife]

hello my name is lachlan (he/him, 18) this a side blog dedicated to my f/o (you'll never guess who) this is a side blog, so if I follow, I will follow from my main :) I also run selfshipgushing!

my strawpage !! feel free to send things :)

all of my imagines and positivity posts and kiyo postings are tagged with "🥀📜" !!!

i can't believe i need to post this considering a lot of my reblogs are anti but pls pls dni if you're pro.ship. I don't care if you consider yourself a com/dark.shipper or not, I do not want you guys interacting with my things pretty please

if anyone notices a pro/com/dark.shipper reblogging or liking my things people shoot me an ask or message letting me know! I can't always get all of them since I average like 100-300 notes a day! I appreciate it <\3

MASTERLISTS

i now have a masterlist for my "things you can do when your f/o is xyz"! you can find that here!

these are currently closed, unfortunately I've run fresh outta ideas haha...

here is a masterlist of all of the templates I've made! you can find them here!

here is a masterlist of all the ask games and stamps n stuff I've made! you can find that here!

[davinawritings]

Merman x human romance, except to complicate things the merman cannot breathe air and will die without water within minutes. Somehow they try to make things work.

Hello! Thank you for the request ❤️ I hope you enjoy.

Pairing: Merman x Human Reader (Gender neutral)

Warnings: mentions of biting?, none

Growing up you had always been drawn to the ocean. It was the only place you truly felt at peace. You always envisioned spending your life close to the ocean but you never expected to find your partner in a man of the sea.

You had met Lachlan on a random swim and had immediately connected with him. He is beautiful with chiseled features and shiny scales. He makes you laugh and smile more than anyone you have ever met. He is kind and intelligent. He’s everything you have ever wanted in a partner. Luckily for you, he is just as enamored with you.

The only problem was the fact that you couldn’t breathe underwater and he could only stay above the surface for a few minutes before needing to be submerged once again. The sunlight was also far too harsh on his skin without the protection of the water so he could only visit you from dusk till dawn.

Over the years you have made changes in your life to allow you both to be together. You had to move to a house in a secluded area of the beach so you could see each other more. You started a job where you could work from home, preferring to sit on the water’s edge with your laptop just to be able to see him. You became a night owl, often sleeping during the day and spending the nights with Lachlan.

For a while, this arrangement was perfect for you both. You were content with the increased time together but over the last year, you have come to realize it isn’t enough.

You wanted to be able to fall asleep in his arms. You wanted to see him first thing in the morning and have conversations that didn’t have to pause every other minute for a breathing break. You want to spend your life with him and have children but it wouldn’t be fair to either of you to raise the kid from afar. You want a life with Lachlan, a real life with him.

You knew the only way for you to be together would be for him to bite you. A Merman or Mermaid’s bite was a blessing and a curse. It would allow the human to grow gills and a tail. You would be able to be with him fully and build a life together.

The only downside is that there is no going back. Once you took his bite, you would never walk on land again. You would spend the rest of your life in the water living as a mermaid. You would rarely feel the sun shining on your skin. You love him and want to be with him but it is a hard decision to give up everything you have ever known. It’s also a decision that you have been going back and forth on for many months.

You know Lachlan would never ask you to take his bite. He loves you too much to ask you to give up your life on land. You thought you could be content to have your nights with him and for a while you were but you know you need more.

You know the right decision is right in front of you. You can’t imagine living your life without him. The only real option is to take his bite.

As you watch the sunset over the horizon you prepare yourself for your new life. As you see Lachlan rise above the surface you meet his eyes. You smile knowing a life with him is the only life you could ever want.

💕❤️🖤🖤❤️💕

[pliablehead]

posts no one asked for but that I feel like I’m the singular authority to make and I’m bored at work: the men of Everything Everything as classic Jellycats

first we have Jeremy as the eponymous Jellycat Jack. This was a no-brainer. he’s charming. he’s iconic. he’s a cat guy. he wears twee little hats. he’s slightly larger than the rest of them. i love him.

Jon is Ricky Rain Frog i mean just look at him. jon higgs is one of the men on this planet i am honestly the most attracted to but that man is ugly cute. everyone is obsessed with this frog who is frowning. my coworker has collected every incarnation of him that exists

Mike is Brook Otter. never beating the otter allegations. this one was in HOT demand and sold out a lot because it’s that good and lovely. i don’t think i’ve ever actively touched mike spearman’s hair but i’ve touched brook otter and i can only imagine the texture is VERY similar

sorry to report that Alex is Lachlan Sad Rat. he isn’t really sad but he is always just a bit lost and hapless looking. lovable af with terrible posture. it was also important to me to make mr synth wizard temple of tone a guy who had discrete fingers

pete is literally bartholomew bear irl. platonic ideal of a teddy bear. no man on earth more huggable

anyway follow me for more useless content like this. thank you.

[transmutationisms]

Hello, dropping by to ask if you have any reading recomendation wrt the sinophobic history of linking flus to China? It's been on my mind given covid was dubbed as "the wuhan virus" or more broadly as a Chinese disease; but I also seem to recall that in the 2010s, outbreaks of aviary flu were also characterized as Chinese outbreaks. It interests me given the current strains of aviary flu ripping through USA poultry and cattle...

Thank u in advance

yes, as a good starting point i would recommend the following bibliographic essay by Robert Peckham and Mei Li: "Epidemic Histories in East Asia." this is open-access and intended to give a reader some footing in the secondary literature, with a particular focus on China; the footnotes and bibliography here will give you a lot more sources to look at, and the essay is mostly just a reading guide for those. Peckham & Li cover the 20th century flu pandemics and the imagining of (southern) China as a global epicenter of influenza, as well as the longer history of sinophobic colonial concerns about leprosy, smallpox, cholera, and plague, and the general narrative of contagious disease as inevitably moving east -> west and south -> north.

the special issue of IsisCB that Peckham & Li's article comes from is also entirely free and open-access, and has several other articles that touch on disease narratology and the western/global northern conception of pandemics as a foreign danger emerging from the global south/east. additionally, in the last few decades there has been a wave of scholarship on similar narratives specifically concerning the plague; if that's interesting to you I would recommend Monica Green's work and Nükhet Varlık's (including but not limited to her essay in the above special issue). most epidemic and pandemic diseases have similar colonial and imperial narratives attached to them so there's lots to poke around in here (eg, French medical views of cholera as a climate-linked disease originating from India; but we would be here all day if I tried to be exhaustive).

wrt flu and China specifically: Robert Peckham has also written more about this in the Journal of Global History 15.3 (DOI 10.1017/S1740022820000224). additionally there is this article by Lachlan Strahan on Australia and the 'Asian flu' epidemic of 1957 in Australian Historical Studies 26.103, though it's a bit dated now (DOI 10.1080/10314619408595959).

[islandtarochips]

Captains Dance-Off

I just wanted to share this with @welldonekhushi @kaitaiga and @deeptrashwitch

I have saw this video on TikTok and it immediately give me the ideas. For I have imagined about our four Captains. Which is:

Arjun - @welldonekhushi

Lachlan- @kaitaiga

Alicia - @deeptrashwitch (that art was made by @imagoddamnonionmason for Alicia!)

And lastly, Kanoa - Me!

Imagined these four Captains are just having a hangout until Kanoa suggested of trying that dancing game that his little brothers had mentioned. So they all shrugged and decided to try.

Lachlan partnering up with Arjun while Kanoa is partnering up with Alicia (the besties)!

And here is what I have made (or make that CAPCUT made)!

I hope you guys like it! Because this is too funny for me to imagined!🤣🤣🤣

Love ya, peles!

[weaselandfriends]

caught up with When I Win. s’good!

Was curious about the etymology for the region names? E.g., I’m guessing from Jinjiao’s name he’s meant to be Chinese, so the Bohai region is roughly China? And Nyugen is a Vietnamese surname, so that region’s name (idr atm) is based on the same?

I’m a big fan of etymology so I was just wondering

Hope you’re well

Bohai is the name of the sea near Beijing, which is about where I imagine the region would be. Lachlan Nguyen's region, Giday, was named a bit differently, but refers to Australia. You legally can't get mad at me for that name because the canon name for Hawaii is Alola.

Aracely's region, Visia, is modeled on Los Angeles/Southern California, with Visia being a play on "visual" (a reference to Hollywood). Toril's region, Kylind, is Scandinavian. Toril herself, and all her Pokemon, specifically have Norwegian names.

Though most of these characters never appeared in the story, I did make a chart showing all 16 seeds in the tournament and their region:

My background is in geography, so I've always been fascinated by Pokemon's pseudo-mapping to the real world. I like Pokemon when it maps more strongly, and dislike it whenever the games make up something completely ridiculous that doesn't fit the real-world area at all. (In recent games, the very boring "need" to have one of every generic JRPG environment - volcano, desert, ice mountain, etc. - has led to a lot of this. Kanto has my favorite region design because of how clearly it maps to Tokyo's urban nature, with the mountainous areas being kept to the fringes of the map.) Probably the most annoying aspect of newer Pokemon games is how it seems like all the research the devs did on the country they're adapting was done in a two-week tourist visit. Unova has it the worst, though, with almost no attempt to make it seem like NYC or even America beyond having a big city. So lame!

[fallen--leafs]

Well don't discourage them :(

You're a Prince! I am advocating for more scourge consideration!

Who needs a scrouge with the SI around these nights.

[quads4days]

The Weight of Us 7 - A Shared Indulgence

The days grew longer and warmer, and so did the indulgent rhythms of James and Lachlan’s friendship. What had once been friendly camaraderie over meals had shifted into something else, something deeper and unspoken, as the two men discovered a shared hunger that extended beyond food. They had become like brothers, bound by a peculiar, thrilling urge to see how far they could let go—to abandon restraint, to watch each other grow, both physically and in spirit.

It was a subtle transformation, barely noticeable at first, but gradually it became impossible to ignore. Their laughter over heavy trays of burgers, their good-natured jibes about who had the softer middle or the thicker thighs—these moments had begun to take on a life of their own, and soon, they found themselves leaning into it, almost daring each other to go further.

“Mate, I think you’re starting to look like one of those ex rugby props,” James remarked one day, as Lachlan tucked into a towering stack of pancakes. Lachlan laughed, his whole belly shaking as he lifted another syrup-drenched bite to his mouth, his cheeks flushed with pride.

“Props? Nah, I’m bigger than that, don’t you think?” Lachlan replied, patting his belly with a satisfaction that seemed to grow with every meal. “Besides, you’re one to talk. Those trousers of yours look like they’re ready to burst.”

James’s face flushed, but he grinned, feeling an unexpected thrill at the remark. He leaned back in his chair, letting his own swollen belly press against the table, his hands instinctively settling over its now-substantial curve. His body had grown plush, his once-spindly limbs thickened and padded, soft flesh filling out his frame. His belly was round and heavy, spilling over his waistband and pressing against his shirt in a way that no longer embarrassed him.

He gave his middle an exaggerated pat. “You’re not wrong,” he replied, a hint of pride in his voice. “But I’d like to see you keep up, big guy, I’m not stopping anytime soon.”

They grinned at each other, an unspoken challenge simmering between them, and soon, the meals became more than just meals. Each visit to the Rusty Kettle, each indulgent lunch in the faculty lounge, felt like a quiet contest—a mutual push to see who could grow bigger, softer, more unabashedly gluttonous.

As the weeks passed, their bodies swelled in earnest. Lachlan’s belly, once only a hint of softness over his jeans, had grown into a prominent, rounded mound that strained every button on his shirts, pressing out with an almost brazen confidence. His chest had softened as well, his pecs now heavy and full, a thick layer of fat rounding out his broad frame. His arms, once muscular, now had a soft plushness to them, and his thighs rubbed together with every step, chafing slightly under the strain of his new size.

James, too, was transforming in ways he never could have imagined. His belly had become a soft, pillowy mass that rested comfortably in his lap when he sat, pressing into his thighs and straining the fabric of his trousers. His once-sharp jawline had softened, his cheeks filling out with a warmth that seemed to match his newfound contentment. His arms and legs had thickened as well, each limb padded with a generous layer of fat that made every movement feel heavy, grounded.

They began to make a habit of comparing notes—of subtly teasing each other about whose belly pressed further out, whose clothes had grown tighter, whose appetite was greater. It was a playful rivalry, but beneath it lay a shared understanding, a strange thrill they both felt but never named aloud. They were growing for each other, feeding off each other’s indulgence, their friendship deepening with every bite.

One evening, as they sat together in their booth at the pub, bellies full and warm, Lachlan leaned back with a sigh, resting his hands on the considerable swell of his stomach. He glanced over at James, who was likewise rubbing his own belly, a lazy, contented smile on his face.

“You know,” Lachlan said, his voice soft but teasing, “I think we’re starting to outgrow this booth.”

James laughed, his cheeks flushed as he shifted in his seat, feeling the bulk of his body pressing against the table and the back of the booth. “You think?” he replied, giving his belly an affectionate pat. “We might need to start booking the whole back row if we keep this up.”

Lachlan grinned, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Well, only one way to find out.” He lifted his glass in a mock toast. “To growing. In every way.”

James lifted his own glass, the words catching in his throat as he felt a strange sense of exhilaration, a heady rush of pride mixed with anticipation. “To growing,” he echoed, and they clinked glasses, both of them aware of the path they were on, and neither willing to turn back.

As they drained their drinks and ordered another round of food, they knew they were crossing a line, giving in fully to a shared, unspoken desire to keep growing, to embrace the gluttony that had brought them closer than either of them could have predicted—a friendship bound not just by shared moments, but by the weight, the fullness, and the indulgence that would continue to shape them both.

[jor-elsemissary]

Hear me out.

Lachlan and Eliza are first generation immigrants from

Scotland

They would have most likely spoken Scottish gaelic.

Lionel would have grown up learning it and…

HAS A SCOTTISH ACCENT!

But he hates his parents so much, he hated his childhood so much that he forces himself to adopt a Kansas accent or as close to one as possible. Probably even took speech lessons to dull it as much as possible.

But!

When he’s really fucking pissed. I mean really fucking pissed he wants to murder you himself because you were so fucking stupid pissed.

HIS SCOTTISH BROGUE COMES OUT FULL STOP!

Imagine Martha witnessing his temper against some idiot and she does not recognize his voice at all or understand the curses in gaelic he’s throwing because he’s so livid.

Lex tells her he’s only seen that happen once in his life,—and thankfully he was not on the receiving end of it—and tells her it had completely taken him by surprise too.

[eruden-writes]

Room & Board - Part 18

Anonymous asked:

For the prompt submissions a vampire that feels guilty after feeding/attacking someone so they leave obscenely valuable ancient artifacts as payment/an apology?

Links under cut!

x x x x x

First | Previous | Masterlist | Next

x x x x x

If you like my content, please consider supporting me on: 

*:･ﾟ✧ Patreon or  Ko-Fi *:･ﾟ✧

The shock of the run-in with Lachlan runs out by the time the three of you get home, the sun already beginning to set. Not even five minutes through the door, your brain is already churning with ideas, ways to fight back, ways to save Tabaeus. As you kick off your shoes and stride further into the living room, turning on lights, you turn to your two companions, “Alright, he gave us a day. We should plan what to do.” 

“What do you mean?” Ewan shoots you a curious look as he flops down on the couch. There’s something wilted about his posture, as if he was a dog exhaustedly returning home after being dumped elsewhere.

Eager to get planning, your feet propel you into a back and forth pace as your hands gesticulate. “We could booby trap the house. If it’s all anti-vampire stuff, Tabaeus would need to stay somewhere safe, but-” 

“No. There’s no way to defeat Lachlan.” Tabaeus suddenly steps between you and Ewan, casting a desperate expression between the two of you. Their movement has halted your pacing.

Your eyebrows furrow, confusion dampening your verve as your hands fall to yoru sides. “But-” 

“There is no way,” Tabaeus hisses, that desperation in their eyes tinged with miserable fear. Their pointed ears droop a little as they step away, turning their back on you and Ewan. Removing his hat and setting it on a nearby hat rack, Tabaeus’s voice softens and cracks, “He always finds me, always drags me back.”

Ewan sits a little straighter, his concern piquing. You and the werewolf share a worried look, but say nothing. With the appearance of Lachlan, you’re not surprised that memories have finally triggered in Tabaeus. 

Lachlan had been… a lot to take in. Intimidating and powerful, affecting a whole library with some sort of enthrallment. An icy sort of vileness in his movements and words. The promise of danger. 

But you and Ewan don’t have the experience, the traumatic memories, that Tabaeus undoubtedly holds in reference to the other vampire. It’s a bit disheartening that, after so long trying to figure out Tabaeus’s amnesia, Lachlan is there to sully the recollections.

“What did he mean by punishments?” The words come out of you before you can consider them. Tabaeus’s back stiffens at the question, but they remain turned away. Licking your lips, you take a step forward and softly push, “Tabaeus?”

At the creak of the floorboard beneath your foot, the vampire half-turns to you. They don’t look at you and you get the feeling they can’t bring their gaze to you. Too ashamed or miserable to catch your eye.

After a long moment, Tabaeus sighs and turns around fully. “He killed Kieran and… others. The ones I sheltered with in all of my escape attempts.” 

Conflict scrunches Tabaeus’s features further as their hand presses to their own chest. “If the people I am with have other ideas that could be construed as a punishment, Lachlan sits back and observes.”

Your lips thin, eyes narrow as you remember the autopsy scars marring Tabaeus’s torso. You don’t want to imagine what other torture Lachlan sat back and watched. It’s hard not to let your brain feed you awful scenarios.

“There has to be some way,” you say with soft earnestness as you touch Tabaeus’s arm. Their attention flicks to you, quick as a flinch, and your eyes flick over their face, tallying all the anguish crimping their features. 

“No, nothing.” Shaking their head, Tabaeus dislodges your touch gently. They swallow heavily again, fighting down discomfort to continue speaking, “I suspect Lachlan can track me, hear me. Peek into where I am at. If not him, then others perhaps.” 

Ewan has pushed himself off the couch by now and stands behind you, dallying at the edges of whatever is happening between you and Tabaeus. But at Tabaeus’s words, he presses, “Others?”

“Anyone who has used my… services.” The words sound bitter on Tabaeus’s lips, mixed with shame and frustration. 

“For memories?” You’re still not entirely sure what that meant. The worrier in you thinks it’s something sexual or perhaps meant for a litany of experiences. Like a sex worker that will allow anything to happen to them, despite how they feel about it and despite little compensation. But you don’t think that’s all there is to it, even if a lot of vampire media loves the thought of bloodsucking debauchery and parties.

“Yes,” Tabaeus hisses, their lips puckering and eyes narrowing. “For memories.” 

Lachlan had said something about making the memory of himself fresh in Tabaeus’s head, before they did a forced feeding. Something clanks in your thoughts, trying to piece together the meaning. Whenever Tabaeus fed on you, you saw things, hadn’t you? And there were moments where Tabaeus didn’t seem like themselves. 

Did Lachlan mean that Tabaeus was used for memories in a more literal way?

“What does that mean exactly?” Ewan voices the question your brain suddenly churns over. He’s hovering behind your shoulder, his body heat warm. There’s a tingle along your back, as if you can feel the werewolf’s own anxiety.

“I am a vampire created to store the memories of other vampires.” Even as they answer, Tabaeus doesn’t bring their red eyes to your face or toward Ewan. They speak slowly, picking their words carefully as they explain something that, hours earlier, even they knew nothing about. “A receptacle for others to deposit or withdraw memories as they wish. As such, I am not supposed to make memories of my own, so they may utilize me to the fullest potential.”

Their explanation dips further into bitterness and frustration the longer they speak. Grim lines crease the corner of Tabaeus’s mouth. 

“Why would they need that?” Ewan presses, eyebrows furrowed with confusion.

“Our brains are not meant to store centuries or millennia of memories," they explain, pressing fingers to their temple. As if the explanation causes some deep-seeded pain. “Remembrances deteriorate over time. Well, unless a coven has a Memory Keeper.” 

Ewan voices the outrage that you feel, “Then let them make another Memory Keeper!” 

“According to Lachlan’s memories, I am one of the last. He was not even my original owner,” they say, disgust radiating over the last word. “Ironic, the skills and ritual meant to create one of my own has faded from recollection.”

Driven by the unfairness of it all, you take a step closer and reach out to the vampire. “But we still have to try and stop-”

Before you can touch Tabaeus, they grab your hand in both of theirs. They clasp it tightly, the cool of their palms an unwanted balm against the heat of your adrenaline and determination. The fact Tabaeus is finally looking at you is a small consolation. 

“Amata, I care for you. I love you. I do not want to risk you suffering Lachlan’s wrath.” The words come out rushed and watery as they give your hand a squeeze. Your heart stutters at their declaration, your mouth opening to say something but no words come. Their red eyes flicker to Ewan, continuing the earnest and pained timbre as they add, “Nor do I want that to happen to you. A werewolf would be tortured far worse than a human.”

A glance at Ewan tells you he agrees with Tabaeus’s words, his shoulders slumped and a discontented frown on their lips. From the way he holds himself, you can almost imagine wolfish ears drooping down and a sad sagging tail. Despite all this, Ewan quietly asks, “Then what do we do?” 

“I will get my things in order and comply with Lachlan. It is the only way I can be sure neither of you are harmed.”

You can see where Tabaeus thinks the situation is unwinnable. A vile master of sorts that may be able to track or see through Tabaeus’s own eyes. If not Lachlan, perhaps others. Which made the situation worse, since even if they dispatched one enemy, more may come in their place. That wasn’t even considering the actual experience Tabaeus has.

However, you can’t help but want to fight. Rolling over and just letting Lachlan take Tabaeus sours your stomach. “But-” 

“Please, this is hard enough as it is.” “Do not fight me on this. I do not wish to enthrall you and wipe your mind of me, but I will if I must.” 

“Tabae-” They swoop forward, not letting you finish your plaintive dissent. Their desperate lips catch yours, their palms cradling the sides of your face. The force of the gesture makes you stumble backward into Ewan, whose warm hands catch you by the hips. 

Uncertainty pulses from the werewolf, his fingers curling into you. “Tabaeus, I don’t think-”

Ewan’s disgruntled words cut off as the vampire breaks from you and lunges for him. The werewolf yelps as Tabaeus grabs him by the hair, dragging him into a kiss of their own. It has the same level of desperation as the kiss they bestowed on you.

When Tabaeus next pulls back, they hold you and Ewan closer, lowering their head between the two of you. Pained and miserable, Tabaeus sighs, “Please, allow me to have one more night, one more good memory, before it ends.”

Tension echoes along your body and you can feel similar uncertainty radiate from Ewan. Both of you are stiff, even as your arm reaches around Tabaeus and your hand brushes down their back. An ache throbs through your chest. You’d like nothing more than to comfort the vampire, give them another good night, but your heart won’t comply. “Ewan?” 

“Yeah?” The werewolf’s reply nearly comes out as a whisper.

Hesitance causes you to pause for a beat, mentally struggling with your next words. Finally, you dismally ask, “How can we stop Tabaeus?”

The vampire tenses against you, an almost imperceptible whine keening from their throat. “Do not, amata.”  

After his own beat of reluctance, Ewan finally answers you in a soft, sober tone, “I can go full wolf and wrestle him down into… whatever he sleeps in.  Wrap it in chains, put it behind anti-vampire protections so Lachlan can’t get to them but they won’t be able to get out.”

Even as Ewan talks about the options, he doesn’t sound convinced. If you were truthful, you doubt either of you want to go that route. It was one thing to have Tabaeus’s cooperation, and another thing entirely to lock them down against their will.

“Enough!” The snarl lights fast from Tabaeus’s lips as they forcefully push you and Ewan away. The power of the shove sends you flying into the far wall, air knocked from your lungs. Across the room, you hear Ewan land against one of the end tables with a grunt of pain as wood splinters beneath him.

Sparing a short glance at Ewan, you can tell the werewolf is okay. Perhaps a little sore and shamed but overall alright. Your attention jumps back to Tabaeus, your eyes widening as you take in the vampire’s state.

They have ripped most of their outfit off, red tears streaming down their cheeks. Whatever fabric still clings to their body has darkened, moldered as if it has been in the ground for ages. Lights flicker around them as their hair plasters to them, becoming a layer of short fur that creeps over their body. Their pointed ears have grown large, wide, bat-like.

To your left, you hear the telltale cracks and snarls of Ewan shifting. You don’t even need to glance over to know he’s gone full lycan, a heady canine scent tinging the air.

“I have made my decision,” Tabaeus growls, their red eyes glowing behind the still intact sunglasses. Their eyes flicker from you to Ewan, their words taking a rougher edge, “Do not try me, either of you.”

Even with their shoulders hunched, it feels like they tower over you. Innate power crackles through the air, heavy and dark.

Recollections of your first night meeting Tabaeus careen through your head. This was what they looked like, except with different disintegrating clothing. Inhumanly tall and lanky, claws bursting from their fingertips, eyes glowing in a dark-purple complexion and dark fur. 

The sight makes residual fear stumble through your thoughts, but care and concern for Tabaeus refuses to let you back down. “I’m not going to just let you walk back into Lachlan’s control!” 

“It is not your decision,” they snarl, their claws flexing with agitation.

A sense of hopelessness descends through your thoughts as you blink back tears. Faintly, you wonder if Tabaeus is projecting or if it’s your own dreadful feelings. “Just because you don’t think you can fight him-” 

“I said enough!” Tabaeus slices their hand through the air, the action silencing you as they take a step forward. Before you can line up an argument, a brown furry figure tackles the vampire with a growl of their own. All you can do is stare as a fully shifted Ewan grapples with the transformed Tabaeus, fur and obscenities and growls flying. 

It takes you a few breaths before your brain kicks you into gear. Attempting to separate the two would only get yourself hurt. Instead, a thought blooms in your head: The vampire hunter box. Was there anything in there that would incapacitate Tabaeus without killing them? You can’t remember, can’t recall.

Where did you even put the blasted thing? 

Your feet are moving before you even think, making a beeline for the stairs and up to your bedroom. That’s right. You left it on your dresser, before heading to the library. 

As you clamber upstairs, you hear a gnarl of rage behind you. That had to be Tabaeus, realizing your destination in your noisy ascent. Which meant the following growl was Ewan, returning the vampire’s attention to him.

The sounds below become fiercer, with wood splintering and glass breaking. Shoving the worry aside, you focus on getting to your bedroom, getting to the box.

Your lungs ache as you get to the landing, bruises from Tabaeus’s earlier toss throbbing along your back. On auto-pilot, you fly to your room and slam open the door, scrambling wildly to your dresser. 

The box sits there, innocent and ignorant to the chaos below. Grabbing it, you throw the lid open and riffle through the contents. It’s not until you hear a loud crash downstairs, followed by a whimper, that your fingers start trembling. 

“Amata.” Tabaeus’s voice echoes up from the stairs, just before you hear the creak of the wood underfoot. 

Each resounding footstep breaks your concentration further as you try to make sense of the items in the box. Glass vials of water, presumably of the holy variety. The stairs creaked. Silver trinkets. The footfalls got to the landing. A crucifix. Wooden stakes. Closer, the footfalls echoed along the hall. A jar of beans. Outside the door, the steps paused. A hand mirror. A shadow filled the doorway, bringing with it a sense of deeper darkness. 

Wildly you look up, blinking back tears.

The clothes on Tabaeus’s form hung like rags now, but it didn’t matter much. Fur coated the rest of their body, their face morphed into something somewhere between a bat and a human. In the scuffle with Ewan, they have lost their sunglasses, leaving you staring into familiarly terrifying glowing red eyes. They took a step forward, into your room. Inky darkness trailed at their back, like they brought the night with them.

Without much thought, you grab the jar of beans and fling it at Tabaeus. You’re not even sure if the jar hits them when it explodes in a cloud glittering shrapnel, little dry beans scattering. As the beans clatter on the floor, Tabaeus takes another step in, ignoring the mess.

Vampires do not obsessively count beans. One bit of lore determined useless. 

Grabbing the box, you stumble backward, trying to gain distance between you and Tabaeus. Your hand rummages around in the box, until you feel the silver crucifix. With a shaking hand, you bring it up, holding it in front of you. “What did you do to Ewan?”

“He will be fine,” Tabaeus simply states, cocking their head to the side. Their glowing red eyes narrow on the religious symbol and you briefly hope it’s working. They dash your momentary reprieve by stepping forward once. Twice. Undeterred by the cross.                                                                                                                                                                            

“Tabaeus, please. Let us help,” you plead, your shaking hand abandoning the cross to the floor. 

“No!” The vampire’s word shakes the window panes in your room and sends dust floating down from your ceiling fan. They close the distance on you, eyes burning with frustration and pain. Their eyes rimmed red with bloody tears. “You read what happened to Kieran.”

As you continue to back away and grapple for something of use in the box, your fingertips graze the wood of a stake. Your stomach lurches at the very thought. If the other bits of lore failed, however, maybe a wooden stake wouldn’t kill Tabaeus. Maybe it would simply incapacitate them until you could figure something out. 

Clinging to that hope, you try to buy a little more time. “But we can-” 

You don’t get a chance to finish your plea as Tabaeus, a dark smear in the air, suddenly pins you to the bed. The wooden stake in your hand falls to the bed, bounces, and clatters to the floor. A shriek rends from you as your arms and legs lash out. 

“Please, let us help!” Hot tears stream from your eyes as you struggle against the vampire, but it’s no use. They’re too strong. Their clawed fingers wrap tight to your wrists as they peer down at you. The expression they give you makes that pain in your chest ripple again and the tears come harder.

“My apologies, amata,” Tabaeus quietly says as they move your wrists to one palm and lean close to your neck.

Your struggles increase in desperation as you arch and dip your back, writhe under their hold, trying to shake off the vampire. “No!” 

The singular word is all you can shriek as you feel the prick of Tabaeus’s fangs sink into your throat. A fuzzy feeling swallows your thoughts quickly as that strange suckling latches to your neck, but you still feel the tears stream down your cheeks. Sensations fill your head, your chest. Confusion and delight and fondness and happiness. Brief snatches of your time together saturate your conscious thoughts, bringing more of your own tears to your eyes. 

Nothing lasts forever. Good things always end. The foreign words echo in your head. Not yours, not Tabaeus’s. Perhaps something they were told long ago, something that resonates in this very moment.

Further heat trails down your neck, but you know the tears aren’t your own. They are Tabaeus’s tears, staining your throat with further red streaks. Through the haze, a harder sob bubbles up from your chest. But your struggles have lessened, fallen slack. The world, your thoughts, your senses are dimming, turning dark.

In your quickly fading consciousness, you realize Tabaeus has let go of your hands. Their own grip at your shoulders, long spindly fingers trembling. Turning your face toward the hand on your right, away from Tabaeus’s feasting mouth, you find your sight blurring. 

Before unconsciousness claims you, you press a gentle kiss to the back of their palm. Driven to somehow comfort the vampire, even at such a discordant juncture. Their fingers flex, claws digging into your skin as something akin to another sob bubbles up from their mouth.

That’s the last thing you hear as darkness pulls you under.

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[evenmyhivemindisempty]

Following up on this ask for the Blackguard crew!

Diego Mendez: Oh, Mendez belongs to Destruction. He’s excellent at violence, and in particular he’s got an almost preternatural knack for sensing someone’s vulnerabilities and weak points. He’s been able to channel this into a pretty good career, but I think his innate desire to seize onto people’s weaknesses and shake like a dog with a toy in its mouth has absolutely cost him some relationships.

Lachlan Bishop: You know, despite the fact that Bishop might be the horniest man alive, he’s a little too chill to belong to Desire! Desire’s fond of him, I think – certainly they think his relationship with Lindsey is hilarious – but Bishop belongs to Death through-and-through. Like Ty, he’s a hunter, and he’s also a soldier; death is a natural part of his world, there’s life-giving aspects to it (he’s 100% the sort to try to use every part of the animal), but he’s also accepted that in his line of work he’s gonna be encountering Death a lot. He’s probably gonna kill people, and he’s accepted they might kill him instead.

Kaminski: Kaminski belongs to Desire. He’s not as abjectly hungry and ambitious as a lot of Desire’s things, but his desires has still governed many of his motivations throughout his life. He’s always kind of wanted more/better for himself, and he’s ruthless at pursuing the things he wants.

Valentine Chenoweth: Aw, Val belongs to Dream. Like Pierce, he’s got an excellent imagination, and Val absolutely retreated into his daydreams for solace a lot as a kid. As an adult he has the best time playing with his creativity - whether for D&D or sexy roleplay sessions! The unfortunate downside to his inventiveness is that he sometimes forgets how to be *honest* - he lies on instinct, and he automatically projects the face that he thinks will appeal best to the people around him.

Dave Alvarez: Delirium laid claim to Alvarez when he was 16 and took 3 tabs of acid in his boyfriend’s basement. It was a great fucking trip, and it kind of permanently rewired his brain chemistry. He visits her realm every so often when he takes psychedelics, and it always sticks with him. I think her Delight aspect is also very much alive in him – he’s friendly and optimistic and vivacious, and he’s generally pretty good at weathering his lows.

Dallas Jackson: Jackson belongs to Despair. She doesn’t have as powerful a grip over him as she used to when he was younger and struggling a lot more with his mental health, but there’s always gonna be a part of him that belongs to her first and foremost. His broody cynicism came about from spending a lot of time in her realm, but I think something positive he learned from her was “if it sucks, hit da bricks!”

[theking-blackheart-muses]

Continued from here @davidkarofskyindie

Wesley moaned into the kiss and kissed his husband back with passion and love and desire. After all this years, their love was still strong and powerful. It seems like it had only just grown so much stronger. Wesley could not imagine his life without his husband, he had been working too hard and needed more time with them. To Wesley his man and family came first which is why he worked so hard. He sighed after the kiss as Lachlan wrapped his arms around him and held him close as the water still fell on them. "That nice. I think a cruise for sure will be perfect. We get to spend time together, I get to taste that body of yours in our nice cabin and also we get to visit so many different place. How about I put in everything later tonight so then we don't chicken out after I give my husband so much more attention. Just shower sex is not enough. I need more of him."