#Marquess Musings

[slumberingchaos]

❛ anyone ever tell ya' that you look like a brooding bassist for a metal band? ❜ for vincent

"I do not believe so."

Perhaps in passing they may have mentioned something about his attire - though he did not think his look akin to any other he had ever passed in his travels. Perhaps that was because like him they preferred the solitude and stillness that darkness provided.

"I take it they have taste then."

Not that Reno could really have much autonomy with his way of dress - the Turks, just as these apparent bassists, had a particular style that was strictly adhered to. A pause was given then before Vincent lifted his head slightly, gazing up at the red head curiously.

"If I may.... What is metal?" He hadn't heard of that genre of music - perhaps it was recently popular.

[assilat-vojjor]

*slaps the khal on the ass*

"Fatat anna save ma see fini anha hash to yeri"

[liroyalty]

Gen.shin characters being super faceclaim worthy & iconable, my beloveds.

[ofmermaidstories]

Part II of the Romancing the Reader collab, Motivating the Marquess, will be dropping on the 21st of May, Sunday AEST. Thank-you for your patience; it has meant a lot. 🥺 Between now and the 21st, I’ll be sharing snippets and musings from and on the fic. 📖✨

Bakugou/Reader

After the death of your Uncle reduces his family’s means, you arrive: there to help your aunt and your eccentric cousins settle into their new home—and their new life—without him.

But when you inadvertently humiliate the infamously hot-tempered Marquess Bakugou at a dinner party, your quiet, tightly controlled life is turned upside down in an effort to avoid his wrath… and his reluctant interest.

[unfortunate-arrow]

I’d Still Dance With You

A/N: A quick little story for the prompt “wedding” for Benophie Week 2023. Set in October of 1848 and featuring mentions of my Bridgerton: Next Gen OCs.

“The last one,” Benedict Bridgerton murmured, wrapping his arms around his wife. 

Sophie sighed, leaning back into him and looked out at the ballroom. The celebration had been limited to family only, with a major ball celebrating the three Bridgerton marriages in the next season. But, even with only family, it was still crowded. Her eyes scanned the floor, landing on the corner where all four of her children were waltzing with their spouses. This event, in particular, was to celebrate William’s marriage to the lovely Miss Róisín O’Connolly.

“The last one,” she echoed.

“They look happy, don’t they?” Benedict asked. 

“Yeah. It’s strange that they’re all married now.”

“I didn’t think that Violet would ever marry, not after her proclamation earlier in the season.”

Sophie laughed, remembering the morning that their daughter had come down and proclaimed that this would be her final season and if she wasn’t married by the end of it, well she’d be a spinster. The marquess of Insley, or Jack as he preferred to be called by his Christian name, had come out of nowhere… literally. Jack had a complicated story involving a lady jilting an earl for a valet and a print shop apprentice being the heir to a marquessate and proved to be the man for Violet. “Yes, but Jack is the perfect match for our little girl,” she replied.

“That he is. They all found perfect matches. Just like I did.”

“Do you remember our wedding?”

“Like it was yesterday. Ironically, William’s wedding reminded me of ours.”

“How so? It was almost twice as long as ours.”

“Well, the ton doesn’t approve of Róisín and they didn’t approve of you, Sophie.”

“For different reasons, Benedict. And the ton aren’t exactly fond of Nell, either. Or Grace… and don’t forget that someone tried to kill Charlotte’s husband.”

“Yes. Us Bridgertons certainly know how to cause a scandal. But it was the simplicity of their wedding that reminded me of ours.” He paused for a moment. “Do you ever wish we had had a bigger, grander wedding?”

“No. It was perfect. It was you and me and something that I never believed would ever happen.”

They fell silent again, observing their children waltz. Violet’s head rested against her husband’s chest, a besotted look that only love match newlyweds had on her face. After all, Violet was a newlywed. She and Jack had married two weeks prior, with their niece, Katharine’s wedding the previous week.

Charles held his wife, Nell, close and Sophie had an inkling that she and Benedict would be gaining a second grandchild in the coming year. Their oldest grandchild, little Norman, was up in the nursery, sleeping away while his parents celebrated his uncle’s marriage. Charles and Nell had contented looks on their faces, and were in a light conversation. 

Next to them, Alexander held his wife, Emma, close. It was a different hold than Charles and Nell, a little more protective. Sophie imagined they were feeling the strain of Emma’s grandmother, Lady Ashbourne’s demands for great-grandchildren. But, she knew that Alexander and Emma could stand against the world together. After all, they had convinced Lady Ashbourne to let them marry, although Sophie suspected her mother-in-law had played a vital part in that. 

Finally, there was the happy couple they were all celebrating. William twirled Róisín around, adding an extra flair to the waltz that no one would expect from him. It made Sophie’s heart happy to see her quiet, withdrawn son with so much emotion written on his face. William could be too much like his father when it came to emotions and kept too much inside. 

“Could I have the next dance?” Benedict asked, breaking Sophie out of her musing.

“Of course you can.”

As the music swelled to a waltz (again), Sophie took her husband’s hand and let him lead her out onto the floor. 

[curarems]

The properties of papadulapumofofopa

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Relationships: Samuel Vimes & Young Sam Vimes

Characters: Samuel Vimes, Young Sam Vimes, Marquess Underbumble Soarwind Egregious | MUSE the Swamp Dragon (OC)

Words: 3608

Young Sam spends time at the Watchhouse. Sam Vimes², father-son bonding, because I am a sucker for those. All scientific ramblings in this are about 2% fact and 98% nonsense.

Read on AO3

_____________

The explosion gave them a pause.

A moment of silence followed during which everyone had a brief assessment of the situation. Then, the activity around the Watch House resumed.

It wasn’t that unusual of an occurrence, after all.

Vimes and Angua exchanged a look.

“I’ll go and check,” she told him.

Vimes nodded, then paused. An image projected itself in his mind – his office, the cold mug of coffee left on his desk.

The paperwork. He has been putting it off for the past few hours; surely a few more minutes would be fine.

“No, I’ll take care of it. Get Kipper and you two go and check out that robbery on Gleam Street.”

"Sir.”

Vimes took the steps to the forensic lab at a leisurely pace. He took out a cigar from his case; then thought better of it and put it back. Best not to go in with more fires.

As he got there, he noticed a thin trail of smoke coming from under the door.

Vimes gave that a thought, then another, then dismissed it altogether.

He opened the door.

He was momentarily blinded. He teared up, eyes stinging from the smoke.

Then the smell hit him.

Ankh-Morpork had a natural smell. Its citizens were proud of it. Invaders considered it enough of a deterrent to turn on their heels [1]. The river Ankh made its own contribution, being famous for being the only river that you could sometimes walk on without sinking in [2], as well as possibly the only chewable water on the Disc – and its stench in the summer was unforgettable, much to the lament of those whose olfactory cells simply gave up and refused to recover for months in fear of being exposed to it again. There was Foul Ole Ron, whose Smell had similar effects and announced its presence from two streets away. Sometimes he had that scruffy dog with him. That one carried his own stink.

[1] This resulted in several broken ankles due to the general nobility’s inability to give up their puffed-up sleeves and thighs and above all, heeled shoes in which some of them had yet to learn to walk, despite decades of trying. It was the Century of the Anchovy and ‘an modern cytie’, according to The Times and Vimes knew better than to imply men couldn’t wear heels or women couldn’t participate in a fight – however, they didn’t need to be utterly stupid about it. Besides, Vimes thought he deserved some kind of compensation for being made to wear those shoes on more than one occasion; and it didn’t count with nobs. He was allowed to ridicule nobs, though they did the job well enough even without any of his input.

[2] Without it being winter and frozen. Besides, even if the river Ankh was covered in ice, only a fool would consider using it for ice skating. Unfortunately for the Watch (who were responsible for dragging the fools out of the river) and for the doctors at Lady Sybil (who often ended up doing check-ups for said fools to make sure no body parts melted and no poisoning occurred) and fortunately for the citizens of Ankh-Morpork (who were not currently in the river)’s amusement, there were plenty such fools in the city.

If one combined all of these, with a pinch of Smell ala Nobbs, spoiled cheese and eggs and rotten fruits, one might get something similar to what was in the lab.

“Ye gods,” said Vimes once he stopped coughing. “Are you trying to outstink the Ankh?”

He was suddenly very glad that it was him who went in and not the werewolf with a sensitive nose.

“Thorry, thir,” the Watch Igor said with what would be a sheepish grin on any other face; one not crossed with stitches and pulled in all directions.

“Nevermind. What were you lot doing?”

Now that his vision somewhat cleared, he could see the state of the lab. There was a strange glowing green liquid splattered on the walls – was it flashing yellow at times? - and one of the desks was partly reduced to ashes. Cheery held a large vial in her hands with some unnaturally orange glittery liquid inside from which all the smoke was coming from. His son was shuffling his feet behind her.

“Trying out this new substance!” Cheery’s face brightened. “They are calling it papadulopulopofomopa, discovered in the Agatean empire. We just got our first samples. The properties seem to be all over the place, but we think it’s mostly affecting the respiratory system–”

“Really,” said Vimes, whose nose was still working only thanks to being a born and bred Morporkian.

“– and skeletal muscles, specifically as a myorelaxant, though it did give Igor brief hallucinations and we haven’t figured out why yet.”

“We were testing out what it does in reaction with sodium and potassium,” Young Sam told him sheepishly, but he was grinning.

“And what have you discovered?”

Young Sam shrugged. The small dragon sleeping on his shoulders almost fell off, but he steadied him in time. “Boom?”

Vimes rubbed his eyes.

“Right.”

The lad was covered in soot. The helmet on his head leaned sideways. The lab cloak was beyond saving, what with being purple – and Vimes didn’t want to know how he managed that colour, it being white the last time he saw it. The safety goggles and shield were almost comically large on his face.

He made a quick decision.

“Come on, Sam, you better clean up before showing up like this at school, or your mother will have my head[3]. When do you need to be there?”

[3] Vimes, on the other hand, would be delighted at the prospect of his son scandalizing all those rich folks Sam went to school with.

“Uh,” Young Sam glanced at the clock. “I still have a few hours. I only have afternoon classes today.”

Young Sam, at the age of fifteen, was a proud student of Assassin’s Guild School. Vimes protested, but Sybil put her foot down about ‘good education’ and ‘tradition’ and the Patrician, blast that bastard, gave him a glowing recommendation at his old school; possibly just to spite Vimes, but possibly because he liked Young Sam. It was only a small comfort that Young Sam had no intention of joining the Black Syllabus and seemed more interested in sneaking into the Watch’s forensic laboratory and helping out every saturday at the Free Hospital, where he had a tendency to tail Mossy Lawn like a very persistent shadow.

“Do you need help with cleaning?” the boy asked Cheery and Igor.

“No, go ahead,” Cheery said.

“I wanth to tetht that green liquid,” Igor said.

Vimes looked at the wall. “As long as it doesn’t crumble the Yard, go ahead.”

He took Marquess Underbumble Soarwind Egregious [4] from his son. Young Sam took off the cloak and threw it in the bin, as well as the ruined gloves, putting away the rest of his equipment. They left the lab together.

[4] Or MUSE for short, as both Sam Vimeses tended to call that mustard yellow lump of a dragon. Vimes the Elder didn't see what was so inspiring about him, but who was he to judge.

The smell had spread through the hallways, though it didn’t seem to reach the busier areas yet.

The dragon huffed in its sleep. This close, the smell of the dragon was mixing up with the smell from the lab. Vimes was close to tearing up again.

He snorted.

“They explode at the slightest excitement, but sleep through an explosion.”

The corners of Young Sam’s lips tugged upwards, then widened into another grin as MUSE’s eyes slowly opened. Vimes readjusted his hold on him, carefully placing that mustard-coloured chemical factory over to hang from his shoulder.

“Isn’t he the sweetest thing?” Young Sam cooed as he tickled the dragon’s belly.

“If you insist.”

Young Sam took after his father in colouring, the wiry figure and thin face, though his nose was unbroken and his features slightly softer from his Ramkin side. He had the same unfortunate ears, though they didn’t stick out as much as Vimes’s had when he was his age. The smile was all Sybil, the lucky lad, as was the height – he already towered over his father, and gods, he had grown up so fast, where did all that time go? He thought of the baby whose biggest interest was whether he could fit his foot into his mouth and whether his hand was bigger than his father’s, and where was his cow; and really, with all the interest the boy had shown in collecting poo, Vimes should have known how letting Cheery take him to the forensic lab would end up.

He looked at the boy - he was now scratching the top of MUSE’s head. Gods, soon he would start shaving.

He had also inherited his mother’s obsession with dragons.

“What is he even doing here?” Vimes asked.

“He didn’t want to let go of me in the morning,” Young Sam told him. “He’s a softie. Mom said I shouldn’t be spoiling him so much, but aren’t you adorable, yes, there, no, don’t eat my finger, good boy, but he’s no bother, he’s just lonely.”

His son leaned across his shoulder to kiss the dragon’s head.

Vimes privately thought the small thing was rather ugly. Not Errol ugly, but certainly more so than the average swamp dragon ugly.

Young Sam thought the world of it.

“Don’t make him explode on me, Sammy.”

“Sure thing, dad.”

They reached the showers. Unsurprisingly, they were empty. Watchmen weren't known for their hygiene, even less so for showering this early in the day.

As they stopped, Young Sam frowned.

"Are you wearing Washpot's boots?"

Vimes looked at his boots. “Of course not. Go on. I’ll take MUSE to my office.” And start doing the goddamn paperwork.

“Can you keep him until lunch? I can go and grab us something to eat.”

Vimes thought about his BLT, minus the B.

“Go ahead.”

“Thanks,” Young Sam smiled and leaned down to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “See you later.”

When did he get so big? The warm tingling on his cheek stayed for a while.

It had been remarked that the Commander’s office at Pseudopolis Yard was swimming in papers. This was, in fact, untrue – A. E. Pessimal was very punctilious about organizing and having papers thrown around just wouldn’t do. Unfortunately for A. E., Commander Vimes’s opinion on the matter differed greatly. In a manner of trying to compromise, they’ve settled on piles in shapes that suited A. E.’s methodical mind, as well as setting up the piles based on their urgency, but which nonetheless had Commander’s messy signature in form of not being separated in any other way – that is, context, author, date of origin, or anything.

There was also the fact that the piles were endless.

A person remarking that the office was swimming in papers would be incorrect. A far more accurate description would be saying that the piles, now stacked on the floor in an attempt to find the desk, reached all the way up to the ceiling[5] and formed a paper wall. It was meticulously organized in a way that made the piles straighter than Vimes would have thought possible, which only served to reinforce the image of a genuine wall.

[5] Much to Vimes’s annoyance. He was not a tall man and to reach the top piles, he had taken to standing on a chair. As much as it would ease his life, he had refused a ladder. A man had his pride.

Vimes took another report from one of the piles on his desk. The misplacement of vowels and switching of c’s and k’s was a nice touch, revealing the author as a watchman before he even started reading.

Getting through all that rubbish people brought him was impossible. Some of the complaints would get him a migraine if he wasn’t so used to them. The spelling could speed up a man’s balding. Filling in all the forms, requests, writing his own reports. But it had to be done. He knew what the Watch was like before; he knew how easy it was to misuse the power it gave. He barely even knew his own Watchmen anymore. Gods, how many even were there? The number was high in the hundreds; not to mention the Sammies, who regularly shipped paperwork to his desk too. It was better to keep track. The reports were buried in the pile-wall, to be seen who knows when, but they were there.

He missed the days his job was less paperwork and more patrolling. But... He was getting older. His knees and back weren't what they used to be. And his responsibilities went far beyond the Watch these days. He thought of Sybil's and Young Sam's identical smiles, and chased away the ideas of daily chases after criminals.

The paperwork, harrowing as it was, made him feel somewhat useful.

The next report’s commas decided to try tango, which meant Carrot. He blinked in an attempt to chase away the incoming headache. He would need to look into the traffic reports today; after yesterday’s busy roads, there were far too many of them.

He paused, then turned around. He stared. He grinned.

Where there used to be a pile A. E. classified as ‘not too important’, which Vimes knew meant ‘people complaining about the sun shining too bright and The Times not posting their funny vegetable’, was now nothing.

“Well done, boy,” he told MUSE.

The dragon chewed through the last bits of paper.

“Hello, Sam.”

The lad waved cheerfully with his free hand as he closed the door with his foot. He had changed into his black clothes for school, which Vimes wasn’t the biggest fan of – they were assassin robes, damn it – but could tolerate, on the account of Young Sam liking them. The smell from the lab wasn’t clinging to him anymore. His hair looked as though a rabbit made its home in there.

“Hi, dad!”

He deposited the takeaway box on the desk, dragged a chair from the corner of the room and dropped in; arms crossed, legs stretched.

“What did you bring?”

Young Sam only grinned. Vimes raised his eyebrow.

“Come on, open it. I already ate on the way.”

Vimes carefully did so.

“I clacksed mom [6] if I could,” Young Sam continued. “And she said yes, so there you go. She says you still have to eat your BLT, though.”

[6] The new disorganizers – what was it, mark 9? 10? 11? Vimes lost track – had a quite advanced clacks function, allowing messages to be delivered quickly even without a clacks tower. Vimes still wasn’t sure how to use them, nor did he want to find out.

The words barely registered in his head at first, him being so captivated by the content of the box. Then, once he fully digested their meaning, an idea started forming-

“She says you are not to feed it to Marquess Underbumble Soarwind Egregious either.”

The idea died.

“You wouldn't have to tell her,” he tried.

“Sorry, dad. Mom’s orders.”

“Right.” He glanced back at the box, then looked at Young Sam. “Burnt Brown Crunchy Bits?”

His son winked mischievously.

“Straight from Harga’s."

Suddenly, even the BLT seemed bearable.

“When did you say your school starts?” he asked as he took the first bite. He savoured the taste. Gods, it's been ages since he had the good stuff - he could feel that Harga hadn't cleaned the chippers in years. Just as he liked it. He would need to get Young Sam something in return. The lad was a gift, always.

“Not until half past two and I have only two classes. It’s exam season and everyone is busy, so the schedule is lighter than usual for the next few days.”

Vimes signed a report he’d been reading – that is, skimming through mindlessly and wishing for its end.

“You’ll be hanging around then?”

Young Sam’s eyes brightened. “Yes, I plan to go to Igor and Cheery again tomorrow. I ran into Cheery when she was leaving on a patrol just as I was going to your office and she say they might have discovered the reason for the violent reaction of papadulopulopofomopa with sodium and potassium. It was rather perplexing, you see – sodium and potassium are fine with each other, and individually neither of them reacted with papadulopulopofomopa, though we expected them to, but the second they were added together?” He threw his hands around. “Boom. So we were rather confused. But Cheery and Igor have a few theories now and we think some of them might work, so we are going to look at it together tomorrow after my morning class,” he paused. “We still don’t know why after the explosion the liquid started flashing green and yellow, though. Evidently, it even switched to purple at some point when they were cleaning up.”

“Goodness,” said Vimes who hadn’t understood a word.

“Yes!” his son nodded enthusiastically. “And I was thinking about the properties of it and it makes no sense! Bronchoconstriction and myorelaxant are pretty straightforward and I think we may figure out how papadulopulopofomopa causes hallucinations, but we also noticed some more minor effects that I have no clue where they are coming from.”

“Papamodopopafa,” Vimes repeated.

MUSE climbed his leg up to his lap.

“Papadulopulopofomopa,” Young Sam corrected him.

“Papadupulofopapa.”

“Papadulopulopofomopa.”

Vimes suspected the way he said it in italics was Carrot’s influence.

“Papadupopolo... Mafamapa?”

“Papadulopulopofomopa.”

“Papadulomofo– Hey!” he swatted the dragon on its head. “Those are my Burnt Brown Crunchy Bits!”

MUSE obliviously swallowed his bite.

“You can share,” Young Sam suggested innocently.

Vimes sent him a look of sheer betrayal. The lad burst out laughing.

“My own son,” he shook his head in disbelief.

Young Sam laughed harder.

Vimes relented, grunting. Then– “MUSE, stop eating that!”

He detangled the dragon’s claws from his breeches and put him down on the floor. He threateningly pointed his finger.

The dragon watched him with an expression of utter bafflement and empty-headedness. Young Sam had tears in his eyes, but he was slowly calming down.

“You,” said Vimes, “stay there. No climbing up my leg. No flying onto the desk. No eating my food without permission. Got it?” The dragon remained unresponsive. “Good. Now,” he turned to Young Sam. “You were saying – papadulapupafapa?”

Young Sam erupted into a new round of laughter. Vimes resisted the tugging at the corners of his lips, but his eyes were twinkling.

“Dad!” he tried to wipe the tears from his eyes. The laughter slowly receded.

What followed next happened too fast. Young Sam reaching for his father’s mug, hoping to chase away the sudden dryness in his throat; Vimes’s eyes widening; Vimes’s loud "Don’t!” coming half a second too late. Young Sam started coughing.

“The Watch House coffee,” Vimes told him drily. “I know you don’t like that stuff.”

“No one likes the Watch coffee, dad! Why do you even have it here?”

“I like it.” he said.

Young Sam, in an attempt to get the taste out of his mouth, took a quick bite from the Crunchy Bits.

Vimes didn’t have the heart to stop him.

“Nice, good strong flavour,” Young Sam said approvingly [7].

[7] Young Sam, unlike his father, didn’t consider Burnt Brown Crunchy Bits to be the pinnacle of culinary efforts. He could, however, appreciate anything that could rid him of the famous taste of the Watch coffee.

Vimes grunted. He finished what remained of his Crunchy Bits, ignoring the look MUSE kept sending him. Vimes heard of puppy eyes, but in his private opinion, dragons and Young Sam were far better at them than puppies ever were. For example, MUSE was using award-worthy ones right now.

“I should get going,” Young Sam told him later as he stood up. “I don’t want to be late for class.”

Vimes mindlessly nodded, absorbed in a report which achieved astounding grammatical feats. Then he frowned.

“Not like that, you aren’t.”

Young Sam blinked. “Like what?”

“Lean down"

Vimes got up from his chair and crossed over to his son. Young Sam did as he was told, though confusion stayed on his face.

“Your hair,” Vimes explained as he tried to tame it into a reasonable shape. “That’s a bird’s nest you have right there.”

“As you say, dad.”

He let him straighten up, then fixed his collar. The lad had no right be that tall. He patted him on the shoulder. “There you go. Good luck.”

“Thanks, dad. I’ll be home by six.” Young Sam gave a rather cheerful lazy salute as he left.

The smile on Vimes’s face looked like that of someone looking at the world through rose-tinted glasses.

“Washpot, are those my dad’s boots?”

Constable Visit-The-Infidel-With-Explanatory-Pamphlets look down at his boots, good quality and sturdy, then back at Young Sam.

The boy’s eyes were twinkling.

“I don’t know what you mean. May I interest you in Omnianism?

Young Sam winked at him as he walked out of the building.

“Papodulopopufoma,” said Vimes.

Sybil looked at her husband, who was resting against her side with his eyes closed, and frowned.

“Papadupokopata,” he tried again.

“Sam, what are you on about?”

“Just something Young Sam mentioned today.”

Sybil gave it a thought, nodded to herself and went back to sleep. That was all right, then.

[garbagecxre]

The Marquess and Her Knight

WARNINGS 18+: Caught In The Act, Mutual Masturbation, Teasing, Slight voyeuristic, Cunnilingus, Finger Sucking, Overstimulation, Hook Position, Creampie, Cockwarming

SUMMARY: After your… intimate conversation with the fiendish spirit inside the gem, you are interrupted by your lover and guard, Goren. He catches you in the middle of pleasuring yourself and decides to help you finish.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: After writing two scripts, I decided that this would look better as a novel. Think of this oneshot as a pilot for something much, much bigger. Things are in the works, but for now, read this and tell me what you think! Likes and reblogs are much appreciated!

WORD COUNT: 1462~

Astride Bastien, Marquess de Austin: Fae Noble, Spellcaster

Goren: Goliath Knight, Astride's Paramore

Other works from this series available Here.

The demon's voice dissipates, replaced by the chorus of crickets that begin to sing through the open window of my bedchamber. My hand is still over my throbbing sex, the pads of my fingers pressing firmly against my clit. I’m still short of breath, but I force myself to breathe through my nose to keep silent, my chest rising and falling dramatically from the effort.

As I was finally about to catch my breath, three heavy wraps against my door stills the air in my lungs. My eyes strain in the darkness, training themselves on the wooden door as a muffled voice calls out from the other side.

“My lady,” Goren’s muffled voice is dripping with concern, “may I come in?”

Cursing, I quickly give myself a once over, musing the decision to throw the sheets over myself. My skin still tingles from the activities prior, I had yet to fully satisfy myself, and now I have to consider the possibility that Goren could have been hearing me the entire time… 

An idea suddenly pops into my head.

“Come in.” I call, keeping the sheets right where they were. Goren ducks down a little to fit through the door, his hulking figure shading me from the warm light coming from the hallway. He closes the door behind him before taking a couple timid steps towards my bed.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” he starts, I could barely read his expression in the darkness, “but I could have sworn I heard you speaking earlier.”

“Were you hovering by my door, Goren?” The question was meant to be a tease, but it came out somewhat defensive, as I was still a bit on edge from almost being caught conversing with the fiend that lives in his ruby encrusted dagger. “No, I was simply thinking out loud.” I finally respond in the most convincing, casual voice I could muster. It was hard lying to a goliath, the rumors say that his race could smell emotion. I’d never asked Goren, but there were times when it seemed like the rumor was true, especially when I tried to lie to him. This time, though, my bodyguard accepted my lie and sighed, shoulders slumping as his concern begins to melt away.

“My apologies, Lady Bastien,” he bows his head, a formality that was now loosely enforced after the events back at the camp. “I could not sleep, so I came to check on yo—” his eyes finally land on my disheveled form.

“Is something the matter?” I ask, fighting a smirk. In the dark, I can see his body tense. He became uncharacteristically still, and I could tell his eyes were scanning my body. Goliaths and their impeccable vision, it made them good hunters. Then, a sniff followed by a soft growl. It was taking all the man’s strength to keep his composure. I had to fight a grin, reveling in the fact that I can drive him crazy with just my scent.

“Was I interrupting something?” He was trying not to sound strained, but I caught the shift in tone, hands flexing at his sides as he fought the urge to get any closer. I tilt my head and give him a wry smile, pulling the sheets back further to reveal the mess I’ve begun to make on the cotton. His breath catches in his throat once again, and I have to fight the urge to chuckle. 

“Come closer,” I whisper, “see for yourself.” I press my finger into the sensitive nub and shiver, heated rods of pleasure shooting up my spine. My body was growing impatient, the need for release was becoming too unbearable. I think Goren could sense that in me, because he closed the distance in just a few wide steps and was now standing at the foot of my bed. I watched as his hand traveled to his pants, then I heard a huff.

“Finish.” was the only thing he said to me, it was like there was magic in his words the way it made my legs tense and breath halt. My hand, like it had a mind of its own, started to move. My hips start to buck under my fingers, my arousal crying out in my gut as I stimulate the bundle of nerves in between my legs. I bite my lip to keep myself from moaning too loud, but a few whimpers manage to escape clenched teeth. I look to Goren, who already had his cock in his hands, stroking slowly while his eyes were fixed on my barely concealed body.

Parting my lips, I let out a soft moan, and a growl bubbles in his chest. I can see his shoulders tighten with effort as he strokes himself at an agonizing pace, like he was teasing himself. A smirk dances across my lips, then I throw my head back to moan out again, louder this time. Goren’s breath quickens, my fingers match the pace, and I’m now panting with him. I feel something in the bottom of my stomach grow taut, and I’m suddenly less confident that I'll be able to keep my voice down when my orgasm finally consumes me. I didn’t care, though, I’ve been aching for release since that fiend moved my hands against my will. Now it’s my own desperation and need that keep my fingers dancing, and the sound of Goren’s soft groans that have my toes curling.

With a final, quiet cry, liquid spills out from me and my hips buck wildly. I whimper as I continue to move my now soaked fingers in rapid circles against my clit, milking out the last remnants of pleasure before pulling away and letting my arm fall limp at my side.

A few seconds later, and something warm and wet startles me out of my pleasure filled haze. I open my mouth to cry out, but Goren’s hand is lightning fast and covers it before I could alert our host. My hips buck wildly against his tongue, his arm comes up to wrap itself around my thigh and keep me in place. I can do nothing but writhe under his grip, each lap and suck sending me over and over and over again until a giant stain covers my sheets. I was in tears by the end of it, my body twitching and my breath hollow, then Goren stands back up.

Both hands were now keeping my thighs apart, I lift my head to catch him gyrating his hips slightly to align himself to my hole. My gaze find his, and I watch his strained expression as he slowly pushes himself inside me. A long groan escapes his gritted teeth, while a weak cry leaves my lips.

The seconds it took to adjust to his size felt like agony, my patience was growing thin and if he didn’t move his hips right fucking now, I’d lose it. With a whine, I buck my hips against his, a nonverbal plea. His lips curl into a smirk, amused at my desperation, but grants my silent request by pulling out completely and filling me back up in one hard thrust. I gasp then choke out a moan, my back arching off the bed from how deep he went. He repeats the motion a few more times, each time he stops at the hilt and just takes in my expression as it twists into pleasure.

At some point, he had me on my side, one of my legs hand been hooked over his arm, pinning me in a position that made it easier for him to drive his cock into me. His fingers in my mouth muffled the cries that dared to come out.

“I’m coming,” Goren growls as he digs his fingers into my hip. I only had the strength to whimper and claw at the bed as I felt my orgasm take me. I writhed and thrashed and cried into his hand. The few times I’d push him out and liquid would wet the bed, he’d push himself back in and keep going. 

One final rut had him near collapse, ribbons of his seed coat my walls as a strangled groan escapes his lips. The sensation had me arching my back and moaning loudly into his hand, I had nowhere to go with his arm still holding my leg up. He finally unpins me from the position and falls into the bed behind me, pulling me in his embrace.

The sensation of him still inside me makes me squirm, but Goren soothes my restless mind by planting kisses atop my head and whispering praises against my hair. My breathing eventually evens out, and I soon drift off into the night to the sound of my lover’s heartbeat. 

[triviareads]

I recently read That Scandalous Evening by Christina Dodd and I was wondering if you have read books with that kind of dynamic? Like the hero/heroine wanting to paint/draw/sculp the hero/heroine

I love That Scandalous Evening! Art in HR peaked with that book imho; that nude sculpture with only a little fig leaf covering his bits was inspired, but what really put it over the top was the aftermath when Ransom is ENRAGED and HORNY and clearly into Jane's hero worship but he's also being likened to a DOG and he literally presses her hand to his dick and says "note the difference"— all of which I was completely not expecting so that made it even better. Anyway— artist/muse recs:

My Dirty Duke by Joanna Shupe: Violet is a photographer and uses the camera her dad's best friend Ravensthorpe gifted her to photograph him nude (front and back 👏🏼).

Falling Into Bed with a Duke Lorraine Heath: The hero Ashbury likes to photograph legs and when Minerva Dodger propositions him at a sex club, he jumps at the chance to get those leg pics (I also have in my notes him saying "your foot is flawless" and between this and In Want of a Viscount I'm starting to think Lorraine Heath likes to write in a tasteful foot fetish).

In Which Matilda Halifax Learns the Value of Restraint by Alexandra Vasti: Ashford is Matilda's accidental(?) muse in that her erotic cartoons of dirty profs tying gals up were subliminally inspired by Ashford, but then the publisher took some liberties to make it a more exact likeness, namely adding an ass tat, which is why Ashford hunts down Matilda to "make her pay" or something.

The Marquess Method by Kathleen Ayers: I forget if Theo actually ends up painting a miniature of Haven but she definitely wanted to, so she informs him in the middle of having sex, down to the paint shade she'd use. This is the same woman who painted a miniature of herself with one(?) tit out in order to lure a guy she liked... only to get compromised by Haven.

Sweetest Scoundrel by Elizabeth Hoyt: The funny thing about this one is that Asa is all "oh Eve is suuuuuch a shrew" but then the second she asks to paint him but clarifies it's not a nude, he's super butthurt and is like "is it because I'm a COMMON LOUT? too ugly to be painted naked??" and if that doesn't inform their dynamic idk what else will. Also, there's this whole subplot of Bridget Crumb being *enthralled* by Val's tasteful nudes in his house.

Midnight Ruin by Katee Robert: As of today I can confirm Orpheus did a series of paintings of Eurydice's vaj but kept them private, even after they broke up. There is also a body painting/edging sex scene.

Serving Pleasure by Alisha Rai: Rana kinda stalks Micah but he's aware and very into it and eventually asks her to be his muse for his paintings/fuckbuddy for the duration. It's actually SO HOT and Rana's the kind of crazy heroine I wanna see more South Asian girlies written as.

Captives of the Night by Loretta Chase: Leila is an artist and she either does paint Esmonds or wants to paint him.

[inserviceto]

ivy :   what are your muse’s views on marriage ?   do they believe it is something strictly for love ,   or an institution rooted in business   &   social benefits ?   do they desire or have they desired to be married ?

Shitty meme aside, marriage is...sort of a nebulous thing to Harken.

His parents' marriage, while content and generally happy, was not one of love first; there was definitely love there, but it was learnt over years together as opposed to being the reason for getting married. His father, like many in his bloodline, was a favored knight to Marquess Tuscana (at the time). Seeing as it was his duty to uphold the line, Harken's father married mostly out of the obligation to have a wife and children.

While not proper nobility, Redmond had inherited land passed down through the bloodline that had originally been gifted to his family generations ago for their loyalty and service to the Marquess. It wasn't large, but it was enough to keep a decent chunk of their people together and safe in one area. He had no real need or desire to try and court a noblewoman, and so he looked no further than the women that worked the land of the estate; Doireann came from old blood in their little community, and they got on well enough.

It was a simple trade off; Redmond gained a wife to provide him with sons to further his line, and Doireann gained more status and comfort through her husband.

For the roughly seven years Harken lived with his parents, he viewed their marriage as warm and understanding. But, considering Harken came around when his parents were entering their older years, their relationship had upwards of thirty years to sort itself out into something familiar and comfortable.

So, with the short time Harken got to observe his mother and father, he viewed it as marriage being for love. But, when he was sent away to Tuscana Castle to begin his training as a knight, he had much more time to be exposed to more political/arranged marriages.

Getting married never actually crossed his mind until he came to serve in Pherae. Even then, it took him...years to really warm up to everyone and everything and actually consider that -- yes, he could be a human being and attain a happiness that wasn't entirely rooted in his service to his lord.

He just...also wasn't entirely ready for it, which is why it becomes such an issue later on.

Harken's engagement to Isadora is one I think purely done for love. He has nothing to offer her but himself, as he has since been stripped of any land or wealth prior to being taken in by Lord Elbert. He is nothing but his sword and shield, myriad issues, and genuine love and adoration of Isadora. He also desires nothing from her but herself. He has no want to be anything other than what he can be for her, and if he makes her happy by doing so, he is fulfilled.

[peerlessscowl]

a kiss after one muse has injured the other 

"Well, look at this," he murmurs softly, kneeling down to a crouch. "It seems the lord Marquess Ostia has injured himself terribly on the field of battle. That is a grievous wound, milord," Raven gestures with his sword to the gash peeking through Hector's tunic, snug in between the spaces where his armor fit together. "You should endeavor to get that looked at."

Raven casts a glance over his shoulder. "Knights are a ways away, though. Pity. I shall call them over in a moment, I think. You know," he says, turning his gaze, burning and furious in contrast to the ice-cold of his words, "It is a shame. I've seen your brother in battle many times, though never in such a position as this. Though I suppose he's died now, hasn't he? My condolences."

Taking a knee, Raven leans in quite close, so close he can smell the metal of the whelp's armor, the iron of his blood, the tang of his sweat beneath his collar. He holds for a moment, then presses a soft kiss to Hector's cheek.

As he draws back, he makes eye contact for a moment, and his lips quirk as he stands, turning on his heel to fetch the Knights.

[slumberingchaos]

"Sensing... an incredible amount of power! Sir... are you unwell?" (MAI to either Vincent or Sephiroth?)

Unwell? No.  This was normal.  To feel the beasts beneath his flesh rage and their tempers - and apparently auras - flaring up in a bid to be released if only for a moment.  He wouldn’t.  Not unless he was forced to allow them free reign with his body.  The Beast was easier to accommodate.  It only wanted to be free when a fight was to be had with others, a bid to test its might against those who assumed they were it’s betters.  Chaos.  Chaos on the other hand was one he could not afford to lose control of.  At least not more than he already had with his left hand.  He couldn’t fathom what hells he would visit upon the world if he were to be left unchecked and for the most part they had an accord - though it did not stop the devil from testing the bonds of his captor.

“I would hope not.” A simple answer, but an answer nonetheless. Vincent wasn't even entirely sure he could get sick anymore. “I would think it nothing more than a hiccup.  Nothing too worry overmuch about, Mai.”

[betweenthesinnersandthesaints]

New Muse Added

Name: Anne Boleyn

From: The Tudors/ History

FC: Natalie Dormer

Verses: 

-Doomed Second Wife of the King-  This verse follows the regular timeline of the show/history. Threads during this verse will take place during this time and end with her beheading.

-Mother of the Future King AU: What if she hadn’t miscarried her son? What would life be like for Anne now that she has fulfilled her promise to Henry, but knows her husband has lost interest in her? 

-Divorced Instead of Beheaded AU: Instead of the trumped up charges that led to her execution, Anne and Henry divorce, leaving her the Marquess of Pembroke and the mother of Elizabeth, who is still declared a bastard but gets to be raised by her mother.

-Regent of the Future Queen AU: Henry dies from his injuries received in the joust, leaving Anne as the Regent to their young daughter, surrounded by her enemies.

-Modern AU

[liroyalty]

What the fuck is a 'Genshin'?

[edenityy]

( chapter six ! )

"It has been a while since we last met, Marquess Barrett."

In a not-unusual turn of events, Lucius Barrett decided that some days ago, celebrating Ciel Phantomhive's seventeenth birthday was the absolute best idea. Luckily for the young Earl, he was given a notice a few days in advance. However, he thought it would only be Lucius and Leah, not his wife and son as well.

"As always, you have arrived earlier than expected," Ciel gives a lopsided smile, his disheveled hair on display.

Letting out a hearty chuckle, Lucius reaches out a hand to ruffle the boy's hair, "Of course! We need all the time we can get to celebrate." he muses before observing the Phantomhive further. "Did you just get out of bed?"

Before Ciel has a chance to respond, Leah appears behind her father's shoulder. "You look a mess!" she smiles teasingly, earning a scoff and a small slap on the arm from her mother.

Brushing off his fiancé's words, Ciel greets Leah and Vivienne before his eyes fall upon Daniel, Lucius' oldest child whom he rarely hears of. The two meet at about the same height, but Daniel seems stockier compared to the younger boy.

"Daniel.." Ciel starts, "Pleasure to see you."

Daniel Barrett, the heir to the Barrett name, is a nineteen-year-old boy. Brown hair and blue eyes, similar to Leah, and could probably pass as her if you put a wig on him. His tall stature is one quick to intimidate, along with his harsh resting face that speaks an air of composure and authority.

Giving the younger boy a once over, Daniel nods at nothing in particular, "Ciel."

Bounding over towards her fiancé, Leah envelopes him in a hug, "We get to spend the whole day together! Isn't that wonderful?" she smiles brightly.

"Wonderful.." Ciel mutters, trying to ignore that her grip slowly grows tighter.

"Leah, have some decorum!" Vivienne scolds, shaking her head from her spot next to Lucius.

Rolling her eyes in defiance, Leah hardly looks in her mother's direction, "I'm just hugging him, Mama! It's not like anyone can see." she whines.

Speaking up from behind them, Sebastian gives a fake smile, "Shall we tour the manor?" he suggests.

"Firstly, I will lead you to explore the garden, the winter roses bought from Germany are exceptionally beautiful," Sebastian explains as he leads the Barrett family through the Phantomhive manor.

Cracking open the door to the garden, Sebastian is met with the untimely sight of Finnian cutting off the heads of the flowers while singing a tune.

"Hello, Finnian!" Leah calls out, hoping the gardener is even outside.

Retreating from his original plan, Sebastian shuts the door and turns around with a smile, "I have made a mistake." he states. "I actually wanted to let you explore the main hall."

Turning back around — much to everyone's confusion — Leah listens to Ciel worry about what could've possibly happened in the garden, Daniel walking beside her to look suspiciously at the young Earl.

"Why? Since we are already here, we should start exploring from the garden!" Lucius questions.

"No. Please come to the main hall. This way please," Sebastian leaves no room for denial. "It was an oversight on my part!" he says while standing, using an arm to gesture where to go.

"It is currently the time whereby the roses of the Christmas season as well as those bought recently from Germany bloom at their peak. Please come to the main hall as the view of the flowers will be better, you will be able to see the garden from there. It is our wish to provide you with the best scenery blooming flowers in the day." Sebastian explains.

Daniel and Leah, having mastered the art of tuning others out, hardly listen to the butler speak about the garden and flowers. Leah herself tries her best to ease the tension between her brother and fiancé, though it particularly seems one-sided on Daniel's end.

"I refurbished the main hall a few days back, I have taken the liberty to order a wallpaper with a lovely design from France.." Sebastian says, cracking open the door to the main hall before shutting it just as quickly when he notices to sight of Meyrin breaking dishes. "I have made a mistake."

Fighting back a groan of irritation, Leah holds onto Ciel's arm and peacefully follows any orders as the group walks around the mansion. Her parents however still can't shake their questions when Sebastian yet again tries to divert them elsewhere.

"I think we should proceed to the greenhouse to have tea."

Furrowing her brows, Vivienne stares at Sebastian in confusion, "Why? I thought we were here to view the main hall."

"No, we shall have tea first."

Once again, Sebastian sticks out a hand to lead the way, "The four of you have been stuck in a cramped carriage for such a long time, both of you must be tired. I'm so sorry for not realizing this sooner.. I have already set up a resting corner in the greenhouse. Anyway, please proceed there to help yourself to the snacks and enjoy a cup of tea!"

Stopping towards the greenhouse, it's once again ruined.

"I have coincidentally purchased some excellent tangerines from Spain and I have been intending to use Ceylon tea grown in Dimbulla to serve you orange-flavored black tea." Sebastian smiles as he speaks before an explosion sounds from behind him and all he can muster from himself is that soulless smile and silence.

Daniel lets the silence continue for a few moments before fighting back a sigh, "Have you made a mistake again?" he asks.

"Perhaps we shall just explore the stables instead? It might not be suitable for the ladies to explore but I'm sure you won't mind?" Sebastian suggests, earning shrugs from Leah and Vivienne.

Out in the stables, it's nowhere near less calm when Leah gets a view of the horse. She's pushed away from Ciel in mere seconds to approach the animal, petting it happily as if it were her cat.

"Oh, you are just so cute!" Leah exclaims, running her fingers over the horse's mane.

Putting a hand under the horse's chin, Sebastian glances towards Vivienne, "What do you think of this, Marchioness? I have specifically bought a horse with a blue-black coat as the Young Master's personal horse. It has always been my wish to show this to the Marchioness." Sebastian kisses up to Leah's mother.

"It is indeed a splendid horse! It has a nice build and possesses a good look," Vivienne looks in wonder as she and Lucius approach and get the best look they can with their daughter all over the animal.

Observing the horse, Lucius smiles down at his daughter's blissful smile while coddling the animal who seems to pay her no mind. Squinting his eyes, the Marquess' son turns his head towards the Phantomhive and mimics a happy smile.

"Ciel, so you want to go hunting with me right now?" Daniel asks.

Looking towards the boy in confusion, Ciel raises a brow, "With you?"

"This is a good opportunity to show everyone what sort of man my daughter is going to marry." Lucius eggs on, staring into the pools of blue.

"Or perhaps," Daniel starts, "Hunting is too strenuous for the Earl Phantomhive who possesses the small, skinny build of a girl?" he teases, a smirk making its way onto his face.

Looking towards his future brother-in-law in agitation, Ciel calls out for his infamous butler, "Sebastian, go make preparations."

"Competition! Competition!" Leah quietly sings to herself, secretly praying for the downfall of her older brother.

— ౨ৎ —

It isn't long before the pair are on their respective horses, trotting past the trees with rifles on their back. Ciel sits on his particular horse being led by Sebastian, Leah sitting close against him with her legs hanging off as she observes the scenery. Not far behind them is Daniel, staring at the young Earl's back with a glare of determination. Even father behind, Lucius and Vivienne enjoy a calming walk.

Looking around, Sebastian tugs on the lead, "Young Master, this way."

"Does your butler serve as a hunting dog as well? I've heard many stories from Leah," Daniel speaks.

"You can put it that way," Ciel shrugs, steadying Leah so she doesn't fall off. "It is somewhat true."

Leaning closer to Ciel's fast, Leah pays little mind to the hitch in his breath and flush that begins to cover his face as she whispers. "Listen.. you have to beat Daniel. I want to see the look of sheer disappointment on his face when he loses so I can laugh at him for the rest of eternity for losing to you." she stares into Ciel's eyes, an almost deranged look shadowing her own.

Blinking back his questions, Ciel shakes his head to instead listen to Sebastian. Today, Ciel will certainly see a different side of Leah. One that is only brought out when she gets to torture her beloved brother.

"We shall start from the vicinity of this area. The rules are, that the area where you can shoot is bounded by a perimeter of twenty-five kilometers, and also, it is forbidden to shoot birds that are situated lower than the height mentioned. Is that alright?" Sebastian looks around as she explains, pulling a watch from his pocket.

When no further objections are made, Sebastian smiles and begins the time on the watch.

"We shall begin now. The time limit is three hours."

Swerving his horse to the left, Daniel stomps off without a word. Riding off into the trees, the boy pulls the rifle from his back to situate in his lap, eyes moving faster than average to scan every piece of area surrounding him.

"Leah, you should get off the horse. I'm unable to hunt like this.." Ciel sighs which prompts a noise of surprise from the girl.

A pout leaves Leah, "But I am seldom able to be with you like this.." She nearly starts to whine.

Bang!

The three not within the trees shift their attention to the sound of a gunshot, shot by none other than Daniel who is taking this competition beyond seriously.

"One to zero," Sebastian states.

"Sir Daniel certainly lives up to his name, he managed to shoot down a bird as soon as the competition started." Sebastian puts a finger under his chin. "It seems like he is a bit too tough for someone like you, Young Master." he teases.

Staring with knitted brows, Ciel is quick to pull the rifle into his lap and cocking it, earning a half-compressed scream from his fiancé.

"Even though I feel a little bad for your brother, I'm not losing at anything that has the word competition written all over it." Ciel smiles before heading Leah off the horse, "Leah, stay here with Sebastian as it is going to be dangerous, understand?"

The only thing Ciel receives is a hum as Leah moves to stand beside Sebastian, watching as her parents finally catch up with content smiles on their faces.

"Why don't I get to go? I want to watch!" Leah complains, her signature pout covering her usual smiling face.

Vivienne smiles softly, running a hand over his daughter's hair and admiring her glacial green winter dress and attire, "Don't throw a fit, Darling. It is just dangerous for you to be in the middle of hunting." The older woman explains.

"I'm not throwing a fit!" Leah yells, but before she can truly begin to throw a fit, Sebastian intervenes when the sound of gunshots rings through the air.

"Five to four. The competition seems to be heating up, we should start cheering them on."

— ౨ৎ —

The result, thus far, is a tie. This not only results in an annoyed Daniel but also a crying Leah when she gets a glimpse of the dead animals. Thankfully it was easy to calm her down, which is key for sticking her at a dining table with a glass of apple juice. On either end of the table, Ciel and Lucius sit at the head. Beside them are their respective partners, Daniel sitting across from Leah.

"Let us conclude this with a draw, what do both of you think?" Sebastian asks.

"I cannot take this lying down!" Daniel starts his theatrics, "I won't be appeased unless there is a victor."

Ciel smirks with an elbow on the table as he watches the boy on his left, "I agree with you this time, Daniel, even though occasions whereby I agree with you are rare." he mocks.

"In that case, we shall determine the winner through another competition in the afternoon."

With the confirmation, Daniel seemingly reverts to his original self for a split moment when he glances at his sister sitting across from him. The sixteen-year-old is happily sipping on a glass of juice, dry tears still staining her cheeks but the previous wailing has come to an end. A mischievous smile spreads across his cheeks, Daniel shifts around in his seat to kick the girl beneath the table.

Slamming down her glass with a scoff, Leah glares harshly at her brother, "Did you just kick me?!" she complains.

"No." Daniel lies.

"Yes, you did! I felt it, the table shook!" Leah fights, gripping the tablecloth.

Daniel continues his lie, much against his father's warning look, "I didn't kick you! How do you know it was not Ciel?" He teases.

"Because Ciel is mature enough to not kick someone at the dining table!" Leah controls her urge to lunge across the table, barely noticing the shadow looming behind her as she argues.

Looks of horror replace the annoyed one around the teenager, watching as a large bear emerges from the trees. Screams sound and for half a second, Leah's face changes to one of concern before being slammed out of her chair.

"Leah!" Ciel shouts, moving his body to cover her own with a hand digging into her hair.

As Ciel is accepting his death in return for saving his fiancé, a multitude of gunshots sound before a silence fills the air. Aiming his head to glance away from Leah's brown locks, Ciel notices the once moving bear no longer shifts. Daniel stands across the table with a cocked gun, aimed directly at the bear that once stood in the spot.

Everyone releases a breath of relief, the danger and Leah's impending death put to a halt.

"Sixteen to fifteen," Sebastian announces.

Looking back towards the bear, Leah begins to sob once again as she rips herself from Ciel's grasp, crawling over to the dead bear. "Why would you kill it?!" she cries dramatically.

"It was going to kill you! What was I supposed to do?!" Daniel shouts, throwing the gun to the side to approach his — once again — upset sister.

"Let me die! He could've had a family!" The Barrett girl cries, ignoring the arms of her older brother wrapping around her.

Rubbing his hand up and down Leah's arm, Daniel does his best to comfort the younger girl, "You have a family too. We would all be devastated if you died." she sighs.

With a twitching eye, Leah speaks little words before attacking her brother, hitting him without much effort before being pulled away by her father. 'Why can't he be eaten by a bear?'

In an attempt to diffuse the situation, Lucius holds Leah in his arms while approaching Ciel with a satisfied smile. "You are indeed worthy of my praise for the bravery you have shown, at the time when you have it your all to protect my daughter." she speaks with gratitude, "I owe you one. You are worthy of being my future son-in-law, Earl Phantomhive."

"I say rematch! I want Daniel to suffer nothing but humiliation." Leah huffs.

"Perhaps another time, Darling.." Vivienne sighs, fixing a piece of hair that had come out of place on Leah's head.

— ౨ৎ —

After another horse ride — a calming walk for Marquess and Marchioness Barrett — the aristocrats arrive back at the Phantomhive manor to be greeted by the servants who are beyond disheveled, save for Tanaka.

"Welcome back!" Bardroy, Meyrin, and Finnian yell cheerily.

"Why does everyone look like this?"

Holding up an unappetizing cake, Finnian gives a bright smile to his master, "This was made by all of us!"

"We even used roses for decoration!" Finnian gestures towards depressing, dying flowers.

"I made a donburi filled with the Young Master's favorite food!" Bardroy smiles proudly.

"The table settling was done by me. I followed Mr. Sebastian's style.." Meyrin looks down bashfully, view of the messy table behind her.

Observing the chaos, Leah shakes her head slowly, "I should be more thankful for Thomas.." she whispers, which earns a giggle from her mother and brother.

Walking past his family and the mess, Lucius sneaks up on Ciel to give him a tight hug, "Happy seventeenth birthday, Ciel!" The older man ruffles his hair and lifts him off the floor, "I'll be counting on all of you to take care of my daughter and her husband in the future." Lucius says as he simultaneously shifts his attention to the servants, Ciel still in his arms but now back on the floor.

Smiles fill the room, except for Leah who still pouts over the bear.

"Thank you very much!" Ciel smiles, subtly shifting away from Lucius and back towards Leah's side, almost using the girl as a shield from her father.

Later in the evening, the group is content to sit in the parlor, surrounded by warmth and calm conversation. Vivienne managed to stop Leah from plotting to murder Daniel, despite the constant defiance that came from the girl.

Finnian glances outside the window to see the falling white specks from the sky, "Look! It's snowing!" he announces.

Approaching the window with a blissful smile, Leah releases a sound of amazement at the snow she can see as it falls out of her view. "It's beautiful!" she sings as though she's never seen snow before.

Following behind his sister, Daniel drops his tough facade to wrap an arm around the younger girl, softly smiling and pulling her closer. Waving Ciel over to join them, he watches the snow with the eyes of a child, similar to that of Leah.

"When do you plan on marrying my daughter?" Vivienne appears behind Ciel to speak in his ear, "You won't be young forever." she urges, already picturing the planning and trying on wedding dresses.

"Don't rush him, Mama!"

[roshield]

💭 + poverty

Send 💭 + a topic and my muse will tell you what they think about it.

"It's a thought I've had, but... A world without nobles would be for the best, I believe." He may have been one, but he's so far from where he once was that he just can't consider himself one anymore. It still leaves him...uncomfortable, when the Guardians of the Flame still announce him as 'Lord' or 'Marquess'.

He never was one, not even when he was a young boy.

"The people deserve better, than those in power who do nothing but fill their own plate and leave others to starve and barely scrape by with very little to their possessions and pockets, who believe their people to be lost without their co-called guidance." A dig at a certain so-called God that wants to wear his skin, perhaps? Well, Ultima and people like his own mother were all the same.

[nocturnerpg]

A new coterie has been added, courtesy of Selene Valentine! Please refer to the information below.

✛  THE VALENTINE COURT What used to be a frozen wasteland has now become one of the most thriving places within La Patrie. Under the rule of the Princess of Forever and her court, Whitepeak flourished despite its seemingly unforgiving climate. With resources rich in precious ores and oil just beneath its snow-covered lands, it's no surprise how an almost inhabitable region swiftly became one of the wealthiest vampire territories. However, when it comes to the hierarchy of the Valentines' government, something akin to a feudal system has been put into place, and these are the monarchs occupying the highest positions:

AVAILABLE ROLES. PRIMARY MEMBERS OF THE COURT. THE PRINCESS OF FOREVER: Selene Valentine FELDMARSCHALL: (female vampire muse, 0/1) THE STRATEGIST: (female vampire muse, 0/1) THE DIPLOMAT: (female vampire muse, 0/1) THE HISTORIAN: Roslin Rebane THE QUEENSGUARD: (male vampire muse, 0/1) DAEDALUS: (forgemaster, 0/1) FAMILIAR: (preferably human female but can be adjusted, 0/1) MILITIA. LIEUTENANT: (vampire muse, 0/1) COLONEL: (vampire muse, 0/1) SPECIALIST: (vampire muse, 0/1) KNIGHTS: (no limit) THE VASSALS. DUKE/DUCHESS: (0/1) MARQUESS/MARCHIONESS: (0/1) EARL: Claude Elrich VISCOUNT/VISCOUNTESS: (0/1) BARON/BARONESS: (0/1)

For more information about these open positions, click here!