#and I am also getting married

[punkpoemprose]

Hunter’s Daughter- Kristanna Vampire AU Pt 4

Universe: Vampire AU [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] Rating: T (Teen & Up, mentions of sex) Length: 1723 Words

A/N: Kristanna Advent 2022 Day 8. I can’t help but revisit this one every now and again. I fully planned on being done with it last year, but I have a couple more scenes in me that I’d like to write so you can probably expect 2-3 more of these in the future.

Kristoff had changed careers, at least somewhat. He still hunted with the blessing of his wife and sister-in-law, but he’d also taken up some less dangerous work at the local sawmill. He’d still send in fangs to the hunter’s guild, if only to prevent anyone seeking him out and potentially learning about his wife and sister-in-law. These days little of his income came from that trade, most of his work being using his axe for more palatable purposes. The mill owner didn’t care what hours he kept, only that the work was done, and he’d found it useful even that Kristoff preferred working in the evenings rather than the mornings because it allowed him to get more done between a day shift and a night shift. It wasn’t necessary that he work at night of course, he was human, but it did give him time to build up a schedule before it became necessary.

He doubted that he’d ever stop hunting entirely, even if Anna finally agreed to turn him, because despite it all he still wanted to make the world a safer place. These days the only hunting he did was to destroy the monsters who killed to sate their appetite, but to his great pleasure he’d found in his travels, some vampires who were moral enough to feed from humans without killing them. Some were established in large cities and had pools of consenting volunteers who liked to be bitten, which he’d have more opinions about if he himself didn’t enjoy his wife feeding from him. He’d even met a couple of vampires who, like Elsa and Anna, fed from animal blood rather than human.

He doubted that he would ever be able to change the mind of the hunters who’d raised him, to show them that not all vampires were cruel, but he was content to spend his life, his potential eternity, protecting his little family in every way he could. He’d never let hunters take his wife from him, nor would he allow them to touch her sister. He also intended to provide for them, bringing in his own small financial contribution to their household despite Elsa and Anna’s insistence that it was unnecessary given their wealth.

He did it regardless, feeling better when he provided what he could, particularly in recent months.

“Welcome home,” Anna said as he walked through the door, “I made us dinner.”

It was nearly midnight, but their “dinner” was always more akin to a midnight snack. Anna didn’t really need to eat, her sustenance came from blood, his at times and animals’ blood at others, but she could eat for the taste if she wanted to and Kristoff enjoyed the company.

“You’ve been doing so much of the cooking for me lately,” he said as he shucked off his books and doffed his coat, “You should be resting.”

She approached him for a hug and received it, her swollen stomach making it difficult to hold her as close as he’d like to. She’d always been slight and lately it looked like she’d taken to putting a watermelon under her gown. He’d so rarely ever seen pregnant women in his life, and it had been a blessing when he’d found a female vampire in the city who was a midwife and surgeon’s assistant who had confirmed to him that Anna’s progress was normal and that she’d be happy to assist in the birthing. He'd not been wholly disgusted, as he once would have been, that her work was how she kept herself fed.

“I’m nesting, I want to cook. I’ve cleaned the whole house top to bottom every day this week and our little one will need normal food for some time after the milk, and I still sometimes eat out of habit, plus you need to eat for now, so please don’t fuss. It’s a good hobby for me.”

He never won when he argued with her save for the extraordinary circumstance in which she couldn’t find a flaw in his logic, so he simply nodded.

“Good,” she said cheerily, “Elsa and I had steak so that’s what I made you.”

“Steak” was cow’s blood for her and actual meat for him. He’d come to find some humor in the ways in which she and her sister referred to the blood they drank by the meats they were born from. Pig’s blood was pork, sometimes cheekily ham or bacon, sheep’s’ blood was mutton, chicken’s blood was… well chicken, and the list went on and on.

She rarely, if ever actually ate the meat with him, but instead frequently made herself a taster of the vegetables and starches that she cooked for him along with it.

You’ll see someday, she’d told him some months before, vegetables and desserts and grains and things taste nice, but cooked meat just sort of has a taste of char.

He wondered if he would experience that as well and whether the child she carried would ever appreciate the taste of a well cooked piece of meat.

Babies were something of a new territory for them. The hunters’ society had never said anything at all about vampire children, likely because the conditions to create them were vile in one circumstance and likely unrecorded in their methodology. He’d found, since meeting Anna and Elsa that there was plenty that hunters didn’t know about vampires, and he supposed that someday he could write the book on the matter if it weren’t for the fact that he never wanted to offer anyone, anywhere the sort of information that could lead to someone in his little family getting hurt.

“How was the mill?”

He smiled, following her into the dinning room of their family home. She almost waddled from the extra weight around her front, and he wished that he had been around to witness the likely comical way she’d been cleaning their home with her daughter getting in the way.

Of course, they didn’t know that it was a girl, he just felt certain of it. He’d been sure that she’d have a girl from the first night he dreamed of a little red-haired baby with his brown eyes. Elsa also thought as much, having both the same gut inclination and the “proof” of the pendulum test she’d performed with Anna the day she’d been informed of the pregnancy.

“It was nice,” he said, “I like the work, it makes me feel productive.”

She smiled at him and sat at his side when he settled at their overlarge dinner table. Once he was seated, she removed the cloche from his plate that was keeping the food warm and then removed a second from her own plate which included a variety of the vegetables she’d been growing herself in the estate’s garden.

“I’m glad, I wouldn’t want you to do it if you didn’t like it, but I do have to admit that you doing safer work closer to home has me feeling much better with the baby almost here.”

“I know,” he said fondly, spearing some of the same vegetables on his plate with a fork, “I’m happy that I get to come home every night and make sure all is well. I’ll have to go back to hunting once she’s born, if only to keep anyone from looking for me, but I think that working close to home is ideal.”

She ate her vegetables slowly, savoring the taste, while he ate quite speedily, feeling hungry from the day’s work.

“Was your steak enough?”

“The baby has me feeding more often… eating for two I suppose, but I think that eating the vegetables and things is helping. I suppose that the parts of me that are still functioning like a normal person are getting the nutrients to her even if the steak is the only thing that feeds me. So to make a long story short, yes, it was.”

He nodded, “Because you know you can always ask… I’m always offering Anna.”

She nodded in return, “I know, but you know that makes me terribly amorous most of the time, and despite the fact that I’d rarely if never say no to your attentions, she’s been kicking all day and I…”

He didn’t mean to interrupt, not really, but he couldn’t help himself.

“She?”

Anna blushed, evidence to him that she wasn’t fibbing about having been well fed. She could only ever flush when she’d fed recently. He always knew that she needed more to drink when she was pale.

“Okay, I might finally believe you and Elsa that the baby is a girl. I don’t know how I know, but I just… I know it.”

He grinned appreciatively.

“Which is the same thing we’ve been saying. When did you realize it?”

“I don’t know that realize is the right word love… It’s more that I just felt it today, that she was there and she was going to be so beautiful and have all my clumsiness and fire and your sense and… God Kristoff I just, I love her already, even if she’s not a her.”

He watched as her hands settled lovingly on her stomach and he set down his cutlery to do the same.

“She is… and if she isn’t we’ll love them just the same. I already love her too Anna, because she’s ours and she’s going to be every good and bad part of us both which is perfect.”

“Oh no, she might have your feet!”

He knew that she was teasing him, but for a moment he saw legitimate concern flash over her features.

“Oh gosh, delivery will be terrible if she has your feet.”

As if to prove a point, the baby kicked.

He laughed to himself while Anna groaned.

“You have my apologies in advance. Let’s hope she has your innocent expression; you’ll forgive her instantly with one look.”

“Is that why you can never stay mad at me, even when I do things that make you cross?”

He didn’t answer, instead gently running his fingers in circles over the fabric covered bump and using his other hand to feed himself.

He couldn’t tell her that. It would give her entirely too much power, and even though he’d always been struck by her goodness, he knew that she would use such information for evil.

[ryllen]

[ x ]

[maddymoreau]

Thinking about how Diavolo’s feelings transcend time and how in the Nightbringer UR+ card Demon Lord’s Castle Tour this conversation happens.

When asked, “Do you wish to see your father?”

Diavolo responds:

“I suppose I do . . .” isn’t the typical reaction to how a child would feel about wanting to see their parent. Especially when said parent has essentially been in a coma for a year.

Along with how Diavolo describe his father.

It makes more sense why when you learn in Lesson 56 how Diavolo was treated by him growing up.

Diavolo can tell when others are lying but is unable to understand his father’s intentions.

Diavolo mentions that he lived a very sheltered life growing up. That from a young age his father never allowed him a chance to talk to anyone outside the castle.

His childhood friend was Mephistopheles. A demon literally RAISED to be his friend. Putting a barrier between the two because Mephistopheles would put Diavolo on a pedestal.

The isolating childhood he experienced riddled with his strict father constantly scolding him.

Despite everything MC is so important to him he wants to see his father again so we can meet.

[softmangoes]

how the LIs kiss

18+

pure!sydney's kisses are sweet, mouth soft and his tongue warm. he kisses you in the same way he savors the hard candies you'd slide over the library counter, slipping them into his hands just so your fingers could brush. when he pulls away, his glasses are foggy, a nervous smile on his face. "was that..." he says, blushing. "was that alright?"

corrupt!sydney's kisses are hungry. he's got his hands under your shirt and his tongue deep in your mouth. he's been waiting so patiently, after all, and now he finally has you to himself. "you taste divine, beloved." he says, fingers slipping under your waistband. when you sigh against his mouth, he smiles. "but i think it's time i have my dessert."

whitney's kisses hurt. they're full of teeth and bruises and blood and his nails digging crescents into your skin. whenever he crushes his lips to yours, he always makes sure to leave you aching. and like every fight you've had against him, you never come out unscathed. "there," he says, marveling at the fresh marks blooming along your neck. "now everyone will know whose slut you are."

kylar's kisses are desperate. his hands roam your skin as his mouth murmurs endless promises into the hollow of your neck. "we'll be together forever," he says, drunk on the scent of you. he presses his body to yours, eager to get closer, to envelope you in his embrace. to never, ever, let you go. "nothing will ever change that."

eden wastes no time when he kisses you. he has known the lean months of winter and the lonely days of fall. you cannot deny him the sweetness of spring. he bites into the curve of your neck like the first fruit of warmer days, licks at your lips to drink in your sweetness. but a hunter is always hungry, always wanting. "it's been a long day," he growls, deepening the kiss. when he takes your shirt in his hands, the fabric rips apart easily. "too long without you."

robin's kisses are warm. they're fingers running through your hair, a smile against your mouth. sunny days and lips that taste like fresh lemonade. he always laughs when he kisses you, like he can't believe he's doing this. like he can't believe he's yours. when he kisses you, the world is a little brighter. softer. "it's a beautiful day to be with you," he murmurs after he pulls away, pressing a peck to your cheek before taking your hand in his.

there is no way you can truly describe how the ivory wraith kisses you, but there is a note of familiarity to it. your mind conjures memories of kisses whispered in passing, of lips locked in darkened halls. "as sweet as ever," he hums, licking your lips with his cool tongue. "as sweet as always." the passing of centuries have done little else but make him yearn. the wraith, with his great and terrible beauty, kisses you like he's been waiting for you all this time.

[simplydnp]

The Dan in the Shrek shirt and hat is giving “we were being silly and soft still in our pjs in the hotel room” vibes like he looks like he just woke up 😭🥺

lightly tousled for sure. a lil squinty a little flirty a little ruffled. definitely part of how they recovered from jet lag

[ravenstorm2011]

“the purpose of life is to get married and have kids” Uh no

[megafart1]

Fiddauthor doodles

*leaves this politely on the floor and scurries away*

yeah. enjoy ^_^

[bakudekublogblog]

kacchan really is so funny for being like BUT WHAT ABOUT BAKUDEKU CANON when he finds out izuku is quirkless

[faunandfloraas]

The Nobleman or 양반 (yangban): The smiling face represents the bluff and composure that an aristocrat is often known to have. The chin is a separate piece from the top of the mask, and the actors can lean forward and back to make the mask smile or frown as needed.

This monk who abandons his doctrines, or 취발이 (chwibari): Chwibari was originally a monk, but he had no intention of joining the monastic order, so he came down to the world and wanders. Represented with a forehead full of wrinkles and spots.

The widow or, 부네 (Punae/bune): represented to be a widow, or a kisaeng ( a woman who sang, danced, or played an instrument to provide entertainment for company at a drinking party), or a mistress of the Yangban. She has a very small mouth, round cheeks and forehead- giving a general look of happiness good-humor.

[yuwuta]

my f2l yuuta idea of the week, if i may: childhood bsf yuuta, nerdy and shy, who grows up with you. ur popular but u always stick by his side, and he's in love ofc. stuttering and failed valentine's confessions, blushing whenever u show him affection, doodling ur name in his notebook in class, classic loverboy yuuta

this omg :(( i’ve had conversations about something similar—childhood friend yuuta, but i love the idea of him being a little nerdy omggg

you’ve known him since before you two could even talk, you were just infants babbling at each other, but i’m sure in yuuta’s little baby brain he was trying to say i love love love youuuu :(( your parents have so many pictures of all the pretend weddings you guys have had as kids, so many pictures of yuuta in his dad’s huge tux jacket and you in a big shirt with a makeshift belt that’s really just an extra long friendship “bracelet” yuuta made for you bc he was trying to make a bracelet big enough to show you how much he loves you, but he ran out of beads :(((

school is harder for him as you two get older, yuuta doesn’t make friends nearly as easily as he did with you but he always has you and it just makes him more in love with you… the horimiya of this all……. yuuta trying to recede into the background but you’re the friend that pulls him out of his own head and introduces him to maki and toge and yuuji and megumi and nobara and everyone else and sometimes he just sits at the lunch table w everyone and thinks how lucky he is to have all his friends but esp you because none of it would be possible w/o you :(( definitely gets a piece of food thrown at him by nobara who’s calling him out for looking dazed and lovesick but he just blushes and tries to hide it behind stuffing his face he’s so cute god,,,……. definitely doesn’t help that you call him cute too and he’s *////////* all day… doodling your name in his book is so real he’s definitely written “(_____) okkotsu” on a handful of pages which is why he’s so weirdly anxious/protective of his notebook he would literally fizzle away into dust if anyone every saw it GOD

don’t even get me started on the failed confessions PLS so many times he tries to hype himself up to leave a note in your locker or ask you out but either something goes wrong or he’s not specific enough, so it always seems platonic…. the misfortunes of yuuta…. leaving a letter in your locker on valentine’s day but he forgot your way more popular than him, so it’s just one of many notes buried in there and ofc he’s a fool so he didn’t sign his pls 😭 asking you to get ice cream after school and it’s cool, but the next day he sees you getting ice cream w megumi and he’s like oh… wait… you probably do that will all ur friends ofc,,,, just constant blundering i love him sooooo bad

the only time he gets it right is prom, and i can see him either (1) being fed up by his own blundering and really wanting to get it right, (2) being worried/jealous about hearing other people’s plans to ask you to prom, (3) you teasing him about waiting for a certain somebody to ask youuuuuu…. he definitely stutters and stumbles a bit, but he’s yuuta he’s just a sweetheart so it’ll work out :(((

[upsidedog]

i am so charmed by a lumax wedding because it’s not even something max thought would happen. like she assumed weddings were something the girl makes happen and the guy puts up with. and because she had no desire for one, so there’s no reason it would happen.

among other things weddings are an exorbitant and performative show of love, max loves lucas and she doesn’t care whether or not other people know or believe this. at it’s best marriage to her has been a representation of failed dreams and at it’s worst it’s been a tool to manipulate people who need to get away to stay. maybe they will get married for the tax benefits, she thinks.

this is until max and lucas are older and living together, they’re chilling on the couch and lucas mentions his family has been asking when he’s planning to propose and if that’s something max even wants? max doesn’t care, she doesn’t plan on going anywhere, a certificate won’t change anything and she's not crazy about parties. she doesn’t ask how he feels, he brings it up, that “actually i want a wedding.”

that is saying the least, lucas wants a wedding more than anything. he loves max and he doesn’t need to prove that to anyone, but he’s happy and he wants to share that with others! he wants to work with max to make marriage a positive thing to them, he wants to celebrate their love, everything they’ve been through. also, hell, he’s only human, he wants to show off! he wants to dress really cool and go to a really cool place and show the world know how awesome he and his girlfriend are. HIS WIFE!!!

most of all, lucas wants the moment near the end of the night, where the party’s getting loud and everybody wants his attention, but max asks if he wants to get out of there and he says yes. not out out, just outside the venue. it’s dark and the once booming music is now faint, they sit and catch up, complain about their families, laugh about their friends. max holds lucas’s hand and plays with his wedding ring, she whispers something sweet before asking him to dance. it’s the best part of the night and nobody will know about it but them.

suddenly max decides she wants a wedding.

[dustykneed]

--Really, Doctor?

[napping-sapphic]

Picture this: we eat a truly absurd amount of mashed potatoes and then go to sleep

[culiehua]

le fandom, 24/7 since the letter dropped:

[oifaaa]

Bridgerton is one of my comfort shows mostly bc I think its so funny that the Bridgerton family is just the worst they're all deeply unlikeable insufferable people and watching each of them find love despite how utterly horrible they all are gives me hope

[msmc-796-official]

I... have a confession to make, of sorts. There won't ever be a good time to admit this, unfortunately, so it's best I get this off my chest now, and ask for forgiveness rather than permission.

It has not been easy speaking with all of the flashclones who have made themselves known in the wake of Union's latest raids; both for myself, and the squadron at large. I must commend my squadmates for handling themselves with the utmost professionalism - while my own correspondences with these newest members of the Omninet have been what I would consider adequately polite, I've been biting my tongue the entire time, and I fear that my personal discomfort with the issue is starting to slip through the cracks.

To this end, I wish to share my thoughts publicly, that I might better express my own emotions towards this complicated, frustrating, and highly nuanced issue. I only ask that you hear me out in full before you render judgement, and pronounce your sentence carefully.

First: an observation.

MSMC policy requires that all pilots dictate an end-of-life plan at the time of their recruitment, that their final wishes may be carried out by the company in the event of their death under MSMC's employ. The options provided for this are effectively unlimited, allowing the pilot a great deal of choice and freedom in planning their postmortem arrangements. These plans may also be altered in the future should circumstances change, provided the pilot is of sound body and mind.

Under MSMC policy, in compliance with the policies set forth by Union, one of the available postmortem options is flashcloning.

In my fifteen-odd years serving under MSMC, I have only heard of three pilots who have willingly chosen to be flashcloned after death (thus prolonging not only their life, but their term of service under MSMC as well). Of these, I have only personally met one, affiliated with MSMC-808 "5Q8R3 L00P3RZ" - I believe their current iteration goes by callsign Lemniscate. While I do not know how many times they have been cloned during their term of service, their current iteration seems happy enough, and their squadmates reassure me that they've maintained a consistent identity (plus or minus the odd quirk, as is typical of flashclones) throughout their life (lives?).

Second: a digression.

I purchased my Dusk Wing, And The Voice of Apollo Spoke From On High (Apollo for short), from an SSC showroom on a planet whose name I no longer recall. The curated atmosphere called to mind the high marble pillars and lush green-blue waters of some distant Cradle mythology where gods roamed the earth and mortals strove to emulate them, punished and rewarded for their folly in equal measure with gifts and curses beyond name. Each frame was posed as the statues of old on Cradle, too-human limbs arrayed in too-human poses, each a machine of war turned living art piece.

Apollo, true to its future name, was arrayed in flight; hover-jets draped with sunlight-yellow gossamer, veil rifle aimed in its middle tier of manipulators with the same care and precision as an archer would take with their bow. To see it lowered to the floor after its purchase was to see Icarus fall; to climb inside its cockpit for the first time, to don wax-and-feather wings of my own and fly.

The old tales caution that divinity has a cost, and I too paid the price. A vial of blood, drawn with silver needle and spirited away into an unseen cooler before my pen ever touched paper. Apollo was mine, but SSC had received a far greater gift in its place: a sample of my DNA, unwillingly donated as the price for my divine armament.

Even now, this price weighs heavy on my head like the sword which hung above Damocles, poised to drop without a moment's notice with each new Union raid on yet another forgotten cloning facility. Who can say on what distant planet the children I did not birth sleep in stasis - children with my eyes, my hair, my nose, my smile; sons and daughters who will never be called as such because, to their creators, they are slaves, weapons, property - anything but human.

Third: an explanation.

I believe that flashcloning, in its current state as of 5016u, as approved by Union's Third Committee (and exploited by the likes of SSC, HA, and several countless others across the stars) is an inherently unethical practice; both for those who donate their DNA (willingly or otherwise), as well as for those persons produced by it.

To see countless lives created, manipulated, slaughtered, and recycled in the name of so-called "progress"; to see inherently human beings stripped of every vestige of humanity but the body in which they reside and then forcibly brainwashed and molded into soldiers, medics, mechanics, weapons, machines, slaves, property - it is an abominable and inhumane practice that should have died a slow and painful death in the darkness from whence it was birthed.

This being said: I cannot stand idly by as the products of this inhumane practice continue to suffer. No matter whether it is beneath the apathetic gaze of Union, the dehumanizing bootheel of HA, or the eugenicist scalpel of SSC, I will not allow my fellow persons to endure another day of abuse at the hands of those who would abandon their own creations as little more than imperfect failures for daring to remind their creators of their sentience.

Alone, I can do nothing. I too am but a cog in this great uncaring machine humanity has built, one which prospers on suffering and bloodshed and the work of hands which have forgotten the body to which they are attached. Even if I were to risk life and limb and reputation to make my position known, it is a battle which lies dead in the water - it is impossible to halt the wheels of progress without irreparably damaging the future which relies on their turning.

And so I fight. I fight for those who have forgotten their humanity, both willingly and unwillingly, that they might find something of their own - identity, purpose, desires, connection, life - that reminds them of what they were and are and always have been: human.

-- Angel