#ask loathsome-aesthete

[herpride]

tags 1/2

♔. ┊ the lion queen. ── visage. ┊

♔. ┊ the morning report. ── asks. ┊

♔. ┊ audience with the queen. ── threads. ┊

♔. ┊ written in the stars. ── headcanons. ┊

♔. ┊ leading the hunt. ── dash commentary. ┊

♔. ┊ pouncing lessons. ── dash games. ┊

♔. ┊ elegance and royalty flow through her veins. ── study. ┊

♔. ┊ songs on the wind. ── music. ┊

♔. ┊ her very presence commands respect. ── ic. ┊

♔. ┊ through despair & hope. ── aesthetic. ┊

♔. ┊ seeking the lion's share. ── wishlist. ┊

♔. ┊ my beloved husband. ── mufasa. ┊

♔. ┊ our future king. ── simba. ┊

♔. ┊ our future queen ── nala. ┊

♔. ┊ loathsome throw rug. ── scar. ┊

♔. ┊ problem free philosophy. ── timon & pumbaa. ┊

♔. ┊ major domo. ── zazu. ┊

♔. ┊ dearest friend. ── sarafina. ┊

♔. ┊ mangy stupid poachers. ── hyenas. ┊

♔. ┊ headstrong granddaughter. ── kiara. ┊

♔. ┊ the fiercest. ── kion. ┊

♔. ┊ till the pridelands end they will defend. ── the lion guard. ┊

♔. ┊ verse. ── main. ┊

♔. ┊ verse. ── pre movie. ┊

♔. ┊ verse. ── simba's pride. ┊

♔. ┊ verse. ── anthro. ┊

[cleighwrites]

The Long Kiss Goodbye

SPN Fanfic

Characters - Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary - Dean needs to hit the road, but not until he’s properly said goodbye to Y/N.

Word Count - 2,633

A/N - It’s been so long since I wrote for one of the boys!! Thanks to @impala-dreamer for hosting the awesome Through His Eyes challenge. As you may have guessed, this is written from Dean’s POV. My prompt is in bold. Beta’d by @candygrammes; aesthetic by me.

Warnings - NSFW, smangst, goodbye sex, squirting, come sharing

Read it on Ao3

Dean sat at the end of the bar, eyes following her as she ran around the room and worked the crowd. She knew how to flirt just enough to get a good tip, but not too much to be taken seriously by any of the patrons. Still, Dean would prefer she didn't take the risk. 

Human men were vile, loathsome creatures, and Dean was almost more scared of them than he was of djinn or leviathan. At least they had a weak spot, and Dean didn't feel like as much of a monster for killing them. He would prefer to stay off any wanted lists now that he and Sammy were officially dead… again. 

Y/N glided gracefully from table to table, delivering and disposing of drinks and bottles around the crowded bar. Dean watched as she deftly maneuvered through the bodies, trying to make a dance floor of the space between tables. Arms up, breasts full and bouncing, hips weaving and swaying through the crowd. 

He could hardly keep his mind in the present and not reliving the romp in the sheets they'd had the night before. He knew from experience what those thick thighs felt like wrapped around him; could still feel the soft skin pressed on the sides of his head, how hot and wet her– 

“Need another?" A sultry voice asked from his side. 

Dean turned to face her, standing behind the bar, a smirk on his face. “Another…?”

She put her hand at the base of her neck, clutching invisible pearls. "Sir, are you coming onto me?” She asked, eyeing him cheekily. 

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Only if you ask nicely," he responded with a wink.

She threw her head back laughing, then poured him another double, neat. She winked back at him as she slid the tumbler down the bar to him. Dean had to admit, it wasn't often he met his match in the flirtation department, and Y/N gave him a run for his money. 

Sam was back at their hotel, getting everything packed up and closing up loose ends after they wrapped up the hunt earlier that day. Freaking witches. Y/N had actually been the one to point them in the right direction with some pillow talk after Dean made her cum twice. She thought she was just making conversation, a joke even, but it got Dean thinking, and it turned out to add up. 

Dean had felt something with her that he hadn't felt since Kassy, so he'd wanted to come back and say his goodbyes properly. Y/N got off at two, when the bar shut down, since it wasn't her night for the closing duties. Dean only had to wait about 45 minutes till he could have her again. 

Watching her and sipping on his whiskey had the time flying by, and before long it was last call, and Y/N was clearing off more and more tables as the people filed out. 

Dean put one of his favorite Zeppelin songs on the old jukebox and watched as she swayed her hips to the rhythm. As the words rang through the emptying bar, they hit Dean hard. She had made his stay great, but it was time for him to ramble on. Even if she was the queen of all his dreams. That was the story of his life. Find a little respite, and carry on. 

The bartender looked at Dean when it was time to lock up. He downed the last of his spirits, put the glass down on the other side of the bar, and saluted the burly man. Y/N caught him on his way out with a hand around his elbow. 

“I'll be out in about ten minutes," she assured him. 

“I'll be waiting," he answered. 

Dean waited in Baby, letting her warm up before Y/N came out. He busied himself by popping in another tape, tidying up the front floorboard, and drumming his fingers to the beat on the steering wheel. It wasn’t long before Y/N came bouncing out of the bar, straight for the passenger side, and let herself in. 

“Hit it!” she called out, like she’d just robbed the place. 

Dean chuckled and did as the lady bid. 

Once they got to Y/N’s apartment, she was ready to go. She'd hardly kept her hands off of him as they drove through town to get to her row of houses. If the drive had been longer, she probably would have given him road head. Dean wouldn't have argued. She had him rock hard and ready to blow before they ever left the bar. 

Y/N struggled getting her keys out to unlock the door, but once opened, Dean led them through and shut it tightly behind him. Y/N shoved him against it and began running her fingers up his shirt, twisting her nails around his nipples. He'd go back to Hell before admitting that nipple play was one of his biggest turn-ons, and it's like Y/N had plucked that fact straight out of his brain. But he couldn’t care less as she undid his pants and shucked her shirt off over her head, exposing her generous cleavage to him. 

“Damn, Y/N/N,” Dean hummed into the crook of her neck. 

Reaching around her, Dean unclasped her bra, then skimmed his hands down her back to grab her by the back of her thighs and lift her into his arms. She fit perfectly. Not for the first time, Dean wished she could always be pressed right against him. But that wasn’t his lot in life. 

Kissing her as well as he could while stumbling through the vaguely familiar space, Dean walked them to her bedroom. After placing her at the foot of the bed, he let his hands roam over her body until he got to the band of her shorts. With expert precision, he undid her button and fly, then, teasingly slow, for both of them, he pulled them down her thighs along with her underwear. She lifted her knees to wiggle the rest of the way out of her clothes, and then she was beautifully bare before him. 

Dean was no fool. He knew this was the last time he’d ever get to see her, to have her in this way. Unable to help himself, he took the extra moment to take her in: hair a mess, lips swollen from their kisses, silky smooth skin on display just for him. She lay back, braced on her elbows as she watched him undress. Her eyes were wide and hungry. 

Little Dean bobbed eagerly when he took off his boxer briefs. Y/N bit her lip as he exposed himself, no doubt holding herself back. Dean smiled and flexed, making himself bob again. He knew what he looked like and how much she wanted him. No reason he couldn’t have a little fun with it. 

Just as he’d intended, she giggled, still biting her lip, then she held her hands out to him. Chuck help him, he fell right into her embrace. The feel of her plush breasts against him had him moaning into their next frenzied kiss. Her nails dug into his back, holding him close, and urging him on simultaneously.

Not wanting the night to end too quickly, Dean kissed his way down her body, paying special attention to the places that made her moan and clutch his hair. He silently loved how expressive she was, he liked to know his work was appreciated. When he slid a hand up her thigh to feel how wet she was, he groaned at the confirmation of his efforts. With no hesitation, he slid two fingers into her and crooked them, rubbing that spot that would drive her wild. 

His cock was leaking, but he’d soon see to his own needs, after he made her come at least once. He kept up his ministrations as he kissed further down her body. She had a ticklish spot right above her right hip, and Dean rubbed his stubbled chin along that spot at the same time he pressed his thumb to her clit and stroked. She screamed out, and Dean smiled to himself. Her left hand was bunched up in the sheets, with her right was in his hair, pulling at the longer strands on top. 

Dean gave her hip a gentle kiss, then a nibble, before moving his mouth closer to where his hand was. She was chanting his name, along with affirmations and pleading commands. She was already so close; he wanted to taste it. 

Leaving his fingers inside her, Dean moved his thumb out of the way to make room for his tongue. He flicked her nub with the tip of his tongue, and her knees pulled in tightly around his head. He could hardly move, but didn’t need to to keep up his assault on her g-spot and clit. He kept pumping and crooking his fingers as his tongue worked at her throbbing clit. She was squeezing so tightly around him, he might have worried about losing consciousness. If he could get her to squirt for him, it’d be worth dying for. 

She was so close, he could feel it in the way her channel constricted around his fingers and her knees shook around him. Her breaths were coming quickly as she called his name and a series of curse words and deep guttural groans of pleasure. She was all but ripping his hair out from the roots as she held his head in place and ground her pussy against his face. He wanted to drown himself in her cunt. 

All at once, she constricted even tighter around him, then let go, releasing her hold on him as she came in a gush around his fingers and into his mouth. He flattened his tongue and lapped at her as she pulsed through her release. When she started to push his head away, he gave her a little kiss and a hum, then pulled his face away to grin up at her. 

Of course, she wasn’t looking at him; her eyes were squeezed shut with her arm over her face, and her flushed chest heaving with every breath. He loved his view. She was a stunning creature, Dean considered himself lucky to get to see her like this. 

“Fuck,” she breathed out. “Me,” she finished on another heavy breath. 

“That’s the plan,” Dean said as he removed his fingers from her drenched pussy. 

Slowly, he crawled up her body, planting soggy kisses along the way. She hummed and pulled him up to her face to kiss him, uncaring of his soaked state. Dean licked into her mouth, feeding her the taste of herself. He loved how badly she wanted it. 

Where Dean was happy to stretch out the proceedings, she was impatient. She wrapped her legs around him, holding his hips to hers, then reached down and grabbed his cock, giving it a couple of strokes before she lined him up to her entrance and urged his hips forward. Dean took the hint, thrusting slowly into her, drawing out the moment as much as he could with her heels digging into his ass. 

“In a hurry, Y/N/N?” Dean chuckled. 

“I just need you in me already,” she confessed. 

“Well, you got me,” for now, he added to himself.  

She clenched around him and brought his thoughts back to the present. He had a job to do, and it was his favorite job: make Y/N come on his cock. He shut off all thoughts of the imminent goodbye and let his body take control. He braced himself on his elbows and thrust into her wetness over and over until they were both riding the high of their connection. 

The wet slap of skin on skin mingled with their ragged breaths and groans. Much too soon, Dean felt the pull in his gut preceding his climax. Reaching down between them, he pressed his fingers against Y/N’s clit and began stroking furiously. She writhed beneath him and clenched around his cock, moaning and gripping him tight. Her entire body was thrumming with her need to come.

Y/N’s nails dug deep into Dean’s shoulder, hopefully leaving crescent moons that would stay for days so Dean could remember this precise moment. She let out a high-pitched moan, and then Dean felt her constrict and pulse around him. She flushed as she squeezed her eyes shut and slammed her hands against the headboard. She was breathtaking as she fell apart beneath him. 

Dean’s balls drew up tight, and he came with a—very manly—grunt of his own. To draw out both of their pleasure, he slowed his thrusts and eased his way in and out until he was too sensitive to keep going. He chuckled as he pulled all the way out and lay down beside her. He ran his fingers through his hair and put his arm out for Y/N to snuggle into. 

She ran her fingers along his chest as they let their breaths even out, and Dean traced little patterns on her shoulder with his eyes closed. He tried to burn every moment they spent together in his head. He wished he could stay a little longer, but Sam already had their next job lined up. In reality, they should have already hit the road, but Dean wanted just one more night with Y/N. 

Resigned to his fate, Dean let out a long breath. 

“I know why we have to say goodbye,” Y/N said quietly. “I just don't want to.” Dean was surprised she’d brought it up, the elephant in the room, but that’s part of what he liked so much about her. She was bold and brazen and resilient. She didn’t need him, she wanted him. The distinction was essential. 

“Me neither,” he admitted, holding her closer. 

He could smell her shampoo even over the smell of sex in the air. He took in a deep breath, then pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She shifted, then propped herself up on her elbows to look him in the face. Her eyes were wet with unshed tears, and her smile quivered. She was breaking Dean’s heart. 

“I get it,” she said, then blinked quickly. “You’ve gotta save the world.” She smiled brighter. “A very important job,” her voice shook as she said the last part.

Dean couldn’t take it anymore and wrapped her back up in his arms. He could feel pressure behind his eyes and hated himself for not being able to keep it together for her sake. He kissed the top of her head again as he held her close. 

After a moment, Dean reached down and pulled the blanket around them. He kept her in his arms until her breathing evened out and he knew she’d drifted off to sleep. Carefully, he extricated himself from her embrace and tucked the blanket around her. With the light coming in from the window, he found his clothes, got dressed, and walked to the bedroom door. 

Unable to stop himself, he turned around for one final look. Y/N was sleeping soundly, bathed in moonlight, looking as peaceful as Dean wished she would be for the rest of her life. Hating himself a little more, Dean turned and let himself out, locking the door on his way out. 

For a moment, he lamented Baby’s signature purr as he started her up and backed out of the driveway. A glance upward found Y/N standing at her window, watching as he left like a coward in the middle of the night. 

If he hurried, they could be out of the state by sunrise.

[davekat-sucks]

Is it ok to ask what you find so loathsome about Calliope? I only remember her as she was this affectionate parody of the "good" fans. I knew Calliope and Roxy were a thing, I didn't get it other than finding it kind of weird Roxy was her only friend she's known, And her being a skully alien with Roxy looked so aesthetically ugly to me.

Calliope is kind of a Mary Sue in ways. She barely does anything to actually help the team and it's more like she is manipulating them to do all the work. Call Caliborn retarded, but at least he tries to push himself to do work and be better for his own goals. Calliope just acts like a tragic victim and expects others to feel pity.

[savagewilderness]

Oh yeah, we’re going Gabrielle preempting Akasha, while being conceptually SO MUCH WORSE! All while I’m wearing a dress with bunny rabbits on today…! I was going to split this into a few but I wanted Gabrielle’s whole thoughts as one. I really hope TV Gabrielle has these views as I enjoy the ferocity of them & I think it fits with what matters to Gabrielle too. Also, I think it would make for a more interesting story if it isn’t just Evil Akasha versus everyone else, but Gabrielle who understands what Akasha’s getting at… and maybe understood it even more when human, yet still now disagrees & fights against Akasha… no?

I was at various points mainly thinking about

Gabrielle’s plan to destroy humanity

The sorrow of humanity

The blissful peace and beautiful nature once everyone’s dead.  What can say… does she have a point?  I reckon we deserve it..???

“You know the creatures of the night are ripe for a great leader," she said. "Not some superstitious mumbler of old rites, but a great dark monarch who will galvanize us according to new principles."

"What principles?" I asked. Ignoring the question, she went on.

"Imagine," she said, "not merely this stealthy and loathsome feeding on mortals, but something grand as the Tower of Babel was grand before it was brought down by the wrath off God. I mean a leader set up in a Satanic palace who sends out his followers to turn brother against brother, to cause mothers to kill their children, to put all the fine accomplishments of mankind to the torch, to scorch the land itself so that all would die of hunger, innocent and guilty! Make suffering and chaos wherever you turn, and strike down the forces of good so that men despair. Now that is something worthy of being called evil. That is what the work of a devil really is. We are nothing, you and I, except exotica in the Savage Garden, as you told me. And the world of men is no more or less now than what I saw in my books in the Auvergne years ago."

I hated this conversation. And yet I was glad she was in the room with me, that I was speaking to somebody other than a poor deceived mortal. That I wasn't alone with my letters from home.

"But what about your aesthetic questions?" I asked. "What you explained to Armand before, that you wanted to know why beauty existed and why it continues to affect us?"

She shrugged.

"When the world of man collapses in ruin, beauty will take over. The trees shall grow again where there were streets; the flowers will again cover the meadow that is now a dank field of hovels. That shall be the purpose of the Satanic master, to see the wild grass and the dense forest cover up all trace of the once great cities until nothing remains."

"And why call all this Satanic?" I asked. "Why not call it chaos? That is all it would be."

"Because," she said, "that is what men would call it. They invented Satan, didn't they? Satanic is merely the name they give to the behaviour of those who would disrupt the orderly way in which men want to live."

"I don't see it."

"Well, use your preternatural brain, my blue-eyed one," she answered, "my golden-haired son, my handsome wolfkiller. It is very possible that God made the world as Armand said."

"This is what you discovered in the forest? You were told this by the leaves?"

She laughed at me.

"Of course, God is not necessarily anthropomorphic," she said. "Or what we would call, in our colossal egotism and sentimentality, `a decent person.' But there is probably God. Satan, however, was man's invention, a name for the force that seeks to overthrow the civilized order of things. The first man who made laws -- be he Moses or some ancient Egyptian king Osiris -- that lawmaker created the devil. The devil meant the one who tempts you to break the laws. And we are truly Satanic in that we follow no law for man's protection. So why not truly disrupt? Why not make a blaze of evil to consume all the civilizations of the earth?"

I was too appalled to answer.

"Don't worry." She laughed. "I won't do it. But I wonder what will happen in the decades to come. Will not somebody do it?"

"I hope not!" I said. "Or let me put it this way. If one of us tries, then there shall be war."

"Why? Everyone will follow him."

"I will not. I will make the war."

"Oh, you are too amusing, Lestat," she said.

"It's petty," I said.

"Petty!" She had looked away, out into the courtyard, but she looked back and the color rose in her face. "To topple all the cities of the earth? I understood when you called the Theater of the Vampires petty, but now you are contradicting yourself."

"It is petty to destroy anything merely for the sake of the destroying, don't you think?"

"You're impossible," she said. "Sometime in the far future there may be such a leader. He will reduce man to the nakedness and fear from which he came. And we shall feed upon him effortlessly as we have always done, and the Savage Garden, as you call it, will cover the world."

"I almost hope someone does attempt it," I said. "Because I would rise up against him and do everything to defeat him. And possibly I could be saved, I could be good again in my own eyes, as I set out to save man from this."

I was very angry. I'd left my chair and walked out into the courtyard.

She came right behind me.

"You have just given the oldest argument in Christendom for the existence of evil," she said. "It exists so that we may fight it and do good."

"How dreary and stupid," I said.

I hate how patronising Gabrielle is towards Lestat in this conversation 😭. And I can never read it without wondering why Gabrielle doesn’t entertain Akasha’s concept for even a second. It must be solely as Akasha has Lestat, as clearly ideologically, Gabrielle’s own ideas are even more extreme. Like, her vision is just SO inhuman!?! Does any vampire ever utter anything more inhuman & terrifying than this?

I suppose another point is, Gabrielle does imagine her leader as a man. I would love to hear Gabrielle’s true & full thoughts about Akasha.

If you made it this far… I read through this before improvising & misread “We are nothing, you and I, except erotica in the Savage Garden…” 😂🤣😭… I mean… not a total lie…?

PS this kind of veers here, there & everywhere as it’s such a long quote & I likely should have split it up. But now, this is what we have so that’s that.

[preydreams]

𝐈 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐄.

OC ASKBLOG RUN BY @v4nnyzzz for her character, Syn (she/they/he/it) and its different iterations. There will be reblogs of things that remind me of Syn.

Syn is the leader ("Dragon Head") of Justivity Isolan triad, KILLBEROS. Takes on many duties as leader, many involving violence and assassination. Her legal occupation is a lion dancer, and she's also skilled in martial arts.

Please refer to Syn's toyhouse (and her Slenderverse version) for a deeper understanding of them if you don't already. Asks and interactions are always loved!

✷ Syn: #MAD DOG ✷ EMH/Slenderverse Syn: #THE MUTT (other Syns may be added down the road) ✷ Syn's aesthetics and etc.: #syncore ✷ HABIT: #THE LOATHSOME ✷ Evan: #THE HANGED MAN ✷ OOC: #OOC ✷ My art: #own art ✷ Answered asks: #answered (#anon if anon)

My Worldbuilding | My OCs | Syn's Playlist

16+ for suggestive content and lewd jokes, but no outright NSFT. C/Ws for mentions and possible visual depictions of violence, abuse, death, unreality/liminal spaces/visually unsettling and creepy art, body horror, drugs and alcohol, general horror, etc. Non-exhaustive list.

𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒

Refer to the blog-runner as "Mun", if you'd like.

Basic DNI. No terfs, lgbtphobia, transphobia, racists, nazis, "MAPs"/Pedos and other aligned labels, and proshippers. (non-exhaustive)

Ask pretty much anything you want within reason, serious or memey, have fun!

Suggestive ok, NSFT not. No real explicit images (gore, nsft, etc.)

This is a side-project meant for fun, since I've loved my OC for this long and don't really care to make askblogs for canon charas.

I draw responses as much as I can, but some will have text replies. All depends.

I do this in my free time and when I'm motivated. Don't rush me or feel entitled to art or replies, you'll be replied to when you are.

Respect begets respect. Work to respect me and I'll respect you in return.

// ASK? (inbox OPEN, anon welcome)

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[suspiciouscorpsicle]

The Dreadful Palisade of Loathsome Trickery, or: How Wei Ying and Lan Wangji First Met

-another fic from the d&d-inspired set where wwx is a mimic.

-NSFW

A/N: So, big, huge thanks to squidspawn for suggesting all sorts of ideas that made it into these stories! Wwx's decorative motifs in this one, and Lan Zhan's...special affinity for certain well-illustrated bestiaries (as mentioned in “Fearsome Caravan”) were both ideas she came up with. ^^ Plus, have I mentioned that she has done ALL of the work on the character sheets with stats and spells and such? bc she has. Thank you, Squid!! <3<3<3

------------

They were talking around the campfire—quite literally in Wei Ying's case, as he had stretched himself out into a palisade so that the party could sleep without fear of monsters in general, and the highly venomous local vipers in particular—when Jiang Wanyin suddenly looked behind him and asked the logs: “How do you know all this stuff?”

“Maybe you haven't noticed,” Jin Zixuan said, “but it's not like he's a mindless beast.” It was impossible to tell from his tone if he was chiding Jiang Wanyin, or grumbling over the thought that at least a mindless beast wouldn't constantly be playing jokes on him in front of his fellow heroes.

“That's not what I meant!” He rolled his shoulders as the down feathers covering the tops of his wings ruffled in agitation. “He lived in that dungeon all his life, didn't he? In the Underdark. So how's he know about gardening?”

They had been discussing just that before Jiang Wanyin had decided that Wei Ying's knowledge of optimal growing conditions, pests and how to prevent them, and suggestions for pairing flowers, shrubs, and decorative grasses to create a pleasing array of color and shape was odd.

“And how's he know so much about monsters from all over the place? Even before he got so chummy with Lan Wangji, he was always the first to identify the more exotic ones and warn us about what they could do.”

Lan Wangji stiffened where he sat with his back against the warm, wooden texture of Wei Ying's body. Not because the entire party was aware of his keen interest in monsters—only one of them knew precisely how keen that interest was—but because his relationship with Wei Ying had progressed far past the point of “chummy,” and neither of them had bothered trying to hide it. Sensing his tension, Wei Ying shifted behind him, molding himself to Lan Wangji's back. A strip of wood peeled off, changing texture as it did until a passable imitation of silk wrapped itself around one of Lan Wangji's wrists. Wei Ying had been studying his forehead ribbon, and putting what he learned to good use.

Jiang Wanyin didn't notice the small gesture of affection, caught up as he was in recalling times Wei Ying's knowledge had surprised him.

“He was talking about poetry a few nights ago—quoting it even.”

“I thought you were asleep during that discussion,” Jiang Yanli said, with obviously put-on innocence.

“I'd been trying to sleep! But all of you kept talking and I couldn't manage it!” Color rose in his cheeks, but from the look on Jiang Yanli's face—one that Lan Wangji had seen often enough on his older brother's—it wasn't hard to guess that Jiang Wanyin wasn't angry over having been kept awake, so much as embarrassed to have been caught listening. “Anyway, why does he know about poetry and gardens and monsters he's never seen before? Or heraldry? Or spell mechanics and components? Or etiquette? Or interior decorating?”

How could I convincingly disguise myself as a room without knowing about that last one?

Frowning, Jiang Wanyin studied the expanse of logs across from him. Then: “No. That conversation two weeks ago was more than just whatever personal aesthetic you developed surrounded by moldering stones and pitfalls. You were talking about curtains. And china patterns!”

“They are important decisions,” Lan Wangji said. He'd practically memorized the discussion. Wei Ying was going to have his robin's egg blue curtains with white embroidered edges, and the fine set of Angletree porcelain dinnerware with the translucent cerulean glaze.

Jin Zixuan didn't seem to know whether to lean forward and talk over Jiang Wanyin's shoulder, or to lean back and speak to the closest portion of the palisade. He settled for trying to look everywhere at once, as if addressing a crowd. “Even if you need to know it, what Jiang Wanyin is asking...what we're all curious about, now, I think...is how you learned it. You talk sometimes as if you've been educated.”

A ripple of suppressed laughter went through the wood at Lan Wangji's back.

Lan Zhan, he sounds surprised, Wei Ying whined. Is he saying mimics are stupid?

Immediately, Jin Zixuan blanched. “No! No, that's not what I meant—”

Just big, dumb beasts ready to gobble up anyone?

A mouth tore open across the logs just above Lan Wangji's head. The sinewy tongue that unfurled from it was grayish-purple mottled with black, and glistening with viscous saliva. It lashed like a cat's tail in Lan Wangji's peripheral vision as he felt sharp teeth settle lightly against his scalp. Wei Ying nibbled on him gently. After having his hair tightly done up all day, it felt almost like having his head massaged.

Watching them, Jiang Wanyin's lip curled, and he looked away. “You two are disgusting.”

“I think it's sweet,” his sister said. She smiled at them across the campfire, lilac skin warmed to a rosy pink by the light.

He's kind of salty, actually, Wei Ying said. It was difficult to tell if he was joking, or honestly taking her too literally. His teeth continued kneading Lan Wangji's scalp.

“Oh, for—!” Jiang Wanyin surged to his feet. “All right, all right! I'm sorry I asked! You could have changed the subject literally any other way! Or just told me to mind my own business.”

This time, Wei Ying did not bother to suppress his laughter. It rang out into the night as Jiang Wanyin paced a tight circle as far as he could get from where Lan Wangji sat at his ease with Wei Ying practically curled around him.

Relax, relax! I was just playing around a bit! Sit back down.

“Quit hanging all over our bard.”

No. I like him. He's my favorite.

The palisade behind Lan Wangji changed in the blink of an eye. He found himself suddenly seated in an enclosed sedan chair, hidden from the others by screens of fragrant rosewood, set with intricately carved panels. Lifting a hand, he traced the small outline of a fanciful...and strangely familiar...shape. As he did, he felt something taking form beneath him, nudging at his ass through the barrier of his robes. He realized what the shapes making up the lacy carving were as his fingers skirted another one, and the feeling of pressure beneath him changed, becoming more blunt. The game Wei Ying was playing clicked into place, and he surreptitiously loosened his robes. If he stayed still and quiet, the darkness inside the chair Wei Ying had made for him, and the crackling of the fire the others sat around would hide what the two of them were doing.

From even a short distance away, the fine filigree of the screens would be reduced to a jumble of meaningless forms, certainly nothing that the rest of the party would be able to recognize for what they were. Lan Wangji, however, had become intimately familiar with the unique shapes Wei Ying could mimic with a jade-like appendage.

Wyvern. Lurker. Kobold. Troglodyte. Basilisk. Balhannoth. Illithid. Carrion crawler. Arraccat. Kruthik. Behir.

Wei Ying had lived in the Underdark for centuries. He had eaten many, many different creatures. And everything he had seen—and especially anything he had consumed—had been studied and memorized. He couldn't mimic soft flesh, but what he could mimic was stone. Raw, polished, carved...Wei Ying was a master of mimicking the look and feel of any number of stones and gems. Combined with the anatomical bestiary in his memory, he was capable of shaping a multitude of exciting toys.

Conversation resumed around the campfire as Lan Wangji drew a finger along the filigree of the screen. The negative space of one section was in the shape of a steeder's ovipositor. Next to it was the split silhouette of a flame snake's member. His fingers wandered unhurriedly along the outline of one that twisted through the dancing shapes around it. He felt Wei Ying shifting around him, sprouting mouths in the darkness that loosed teasing, searching tongues. One finally wormed its way up beneath his sash, then immediately curled down into the back of his trousers. Lan Wangji shuddered at the feel of it, slick and warm as it burrowed along the cleft of his ass.

'Roper,' he thought, distantly, as more tongues curled around his wrists and forearms, and bound his calves and thighs where he knelt. The long shape he had been tracing was a roper's tentacle. Tempting, tempting, but ultimately not ideal for discretion. He moved on, and Wei Ying let him, tongues easing to hold rather than restrain.

Eventually, he found something suitable. Long and pudgy, a kelubar's cock seemed ideal. It would be big enough to fill him, enough that simply taking it and then sitting still while stretched around it would be satisfying. And the creatures were grotesquely obese besides. Wei Ying could practice making himself softer, as he often complained about not having mastered it. Lan Wangji traced the outline with deliberate slowness, over and over again even as he felt something far firmer than a tongue work its way beneath his clothes.

Waiting was awful. He could feel Wei Ying's tongue working over the jade-like phallus, coating it with thick saliva in preparation for use. Carefully, he shifted, mindful that movement or noise could draw attention from outside and spoil the game they played. He was too aware of certain places Wei Ying wasn't touching him, and the lack of attention made him ache with desire.

“Mimic the body, too,” Lan Wangji murmured, barely louder than a breath. The conversation and crackle of the campfire would drown out small sounds across the scant distance between himself and the others, but caution couldn't hurt. He felt sharp teeth nibble at his ear.

What? Why? I'm spread pretty thin as it is.

“Practice.”

Even now?

Wei Ying trembled around him, swallowing back laughter.

Lan Zhan, you're much too diligent!

Outside the limited privacy of the chair, Wei Ying was saying something to the group about radishes and potatoes. Lan Wangji only half heard him as a weight settled onto his back and pressed him down. It wasn't yielding in the way flesh ought to be, but there was a springiness to it which led him to think Wei Ying had shifted his organs, piling them up behind a thin barrier of his skin. The mass folded over him as if a kelubar had actually settled behind him, pinning him with its flabby gut as it prepared to take him. Lan Wangji was bent over so that his nose was level with his knees. He concentrated on keeping his breathing quiet even as his heart thundered in anticipation.

Finally, finally, finally, Wei Ying lined up the phallus and began to push it inside him. It was cool, and so, so thick. Lan Wangji bit his tongue against a groan, then panted shallowly, open-mouthed and nearly silent.

In the rising haze of need, he almost didn't hear Jiang Yanli's question.

“A-Xian, how did you learn so much about gardening?”

I read a lot of books! He paused to take in the silence, then laughed, laughed as he slowly, slowly pressed the jade-like phallus deeper into Lan Wangji. You'd be surprised what sorts of things adventurers carry with them. And it could get so boring waiting for my next meal to come along. I always made sure to check everyone's packs really thoroughly once they didn't need them anymore.

Wei Ying twisted the phallus unexpectedly, and it was all Lan Wangji could do not to moan. He jerked in Wei Ying's hold, nearly knocking his head against the screen.

Hey, don't look at me like that! I'm not going to eat any of you! I promise!

There was a lengthy silence, during which Lan Wangji felt the bulbous base of the phallus fetch up against him. He was stretched wide, but as Wei Ying held still, the burn of it began to subside to a dull ache that throbbed almost pleasantly with his pulse. The weight on his back seemed to grow heavier, and he felt a wet flick of a tongue against his ear as Wei Ying whispered to him.

They look spooked. Honestly, Lan Zhan, where's the trust. You aren't afraid I'm going to gobble you up, are you?

In answer, he clenched around the phallus. Then, not sure Wei Ying would feel it, he canted his hips in a wordless demand that Wei Ying stop being foolish and get on with fucking him.

Wei Ying chuckled quietly near his ear, a sound like rock dust dropping down a pitfall. It made Lan Wangji shiver. He felt his cock twitch, aching for touch.

“To be fair,” Jin Zixuan said, “you promised not to eat Xue Chemgmei, too, and...well....”

“We've all agreed not to blame A-Ying for that,” Jiang Yanli said with a mildness like silk over steel. “There were extenuating circumstances.”

Thank you, Wei Ying said primly. There was no indication in his voice that his attention was split, even as he began to lazily thrust a fat, monstrous cock in and out of Lan Wangji. That's why you're my favorite!

“Oh? I thought Second Master Lan was your favorite,” she teased.

He's my favorite, too. I can have more than one favorite. Right, Lan Zhan?

Just as Lan Wangji responded, Wei Ying thrust the phallus sharply forward, turning what would have been a lightly strained hum of agreement into a rather more emphatic grunt than the question warranted.

“Wei Ying,” he hissed.

Lan Zhan, Wei Ying shot back, snickering.

He had found a molasses-slow, steady rhythm that sent warmth coursing through Lan Wangji in waves. Eyes split open along the bottom of the screen, barely visible in the gloom. A small mouth formed next, just beneath the carved screen. Grinning lasciviously, it unfurled a tongue that licked beneath Lan Wangji's chin in a wet caress.

Anyway, he said to the party, a lot of adventurers carried books—guides and bestiaries, mostly, but some brought along novels and poetry and books about their hobbies.

And all that hilarious, human porn, he added in an aside to Lan Wangji.

Even when I would open shop, I'd keep most of those, and just trade weapons and treasure.

'Shop?' Lan Wangji wondered hazily. His thoughts were jostled loose with every measured thrust, kept unmoored by the pleasure of touch and friction. It didn't help that Wei Ying was whispering in his ear.

Shhh, Lan Zhan. Quietly, now. You're doing so good for me. I'm always so impressed by how well you stretch back here.

He withdrew, leaving Lan Wangji clenching his fists as he bore the moments of emptiness. This time, however, before Wei Ying worked the phallus back in, Lan Wangji felt a tickle against his rim. He recognized the squirm of one of Wei Ying's tongues, and nearly choked in his efforts to keep silent as the kelubar cock drilled into him once more, this time wrapped in a writhing, dripping tongue.

Outside their shelter, someone must have asked about the shop. Lan Wangji struggled to listen over the thunder of his heartbeat, and the rasp of his breath.

—size of the kitchenette that led to our fated meeting! But much simpler. Just a counter and some trays and an awning—I saw pictures of a marketplace in one of the travelogues! I had some armor and a cloak that I kept in the corner where it was darkest, and most adventurers just assumed I was a recluse.

Jiang Wanyin snorted. “It's not like a normal person would set up some shady little trading stall in a dungeon in the Underdark.”

“Hmm...there wouldn't be any competition to speak of in a location like that, though,” Jin Zixuan said thoughtfully.

Listen to that squelching, Lan Zhan. Do you think they'll hear?

Lan Wangji's cock throbbed, aching for touch where he was folded over it. The need for release was growing more urgent, making it hard to concentrate on the conversation going on outside the screens, but the thing was—

—easier to trade for food when I'd amassed enough odds and ends. I could indulge, too, since there are always more adventurers!

The thing was....

You like that, Lan Zhan? Being stretched out so wide around me? Should I go faster? I kind of want to hear you!

“Indulge?” Jiang Yanli asked. “You traded for books sometimes, instead of food?”

Books—and alcohol!

Filled and emptied, filled and emptied like the tide crashing against the shore, wearing it away. Stars danced in his vision. He was painfully hard. He needed more. His body writhed in Wei Ying's hold, hips canting back, jerking to meet the measured thrusts that threatened to slowly split him apart. But even so caught up, halfway consumed by need, a single thought remained stuck in the soft mash of his thoughts, like a grain of sand caught in an oyster's shell.

The thing was...Lan Wangji had been to that exact same dungeon years before joining the party. And, while he hadn't noticed a mimic...he had come across a particularly strange little merchant's stall, and made a trade.

Such a greedy boy, Lan Zhan. You're taking me so well. Can you last a bit longer for me?

Wei Ying licked up his neck, over his cheek, and into his mouth. Breathing harshly through his nose, Lan Wangji sucked on the tongue that began thrusting into his mouth like a second cock.

Mimics love alcohol, you know. We have an excellent tolerance. And the best alcohol I ever had was some that I got from an elf. I had to trade some poems for it, but it was worth it. He sighed dreamily. Emperor's Smile really is the best!

Lan Wangji remembered making that trade. Having the alcohol had been sheer happenstance—it had been a gift from a traveler he had saved shortly after leaving home, left nearly forgotten in his bag of holding. And then he had come across a strange merchant who had opened up shop in a very strange location. He'd been so stunned to find the handwritten journal of unpublished pieces by a renowned warrior-poet who had disappeared decades ago, that he hadn't paid much mind to the way the merchant's voice hadn't sounded quite right, or the way he didn't seem to move at all—not even to draw breath. Wei Ying—clever, resourceful Wei Ying—had used his natural abilities in a way Lan Wangji had never heard of a mimic doing before or since. It was no wonder he hadn't realized until now.

Do you have any Emperor's Smile for me, Lan Zhan? Haha, just kidding! I know your family forbids it. What a waste!

He was barely pulling out anymore, simply grinding in and in and in, tongue writhing erratically against the sensitive nerves that sent storms of pleasurable shudders through Lan Wangji's body like heat lightning.

Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan. I know something even more delicious you can give me to drink.

Wei Ying oozed beneath Lan Wangji as if someone had upset a cup and spilled a sheet of granite across the sandy ground. It cracked open into a gaping, four-tongued maw. Two of the tongues pushed Lan Wangji's legs further apart, while the others plunged into his trousers, drawing his stiff cock free.

Come for me, Lan Zhan.

And he did; gladly, ecstatically, spilling into Wei Ying's waiting mouth as every drop was wrung from him by the shallow, relentless thrusting of the tongue and phallus inside him. The world was nothing but pleasure; overwhelming, edging into overstimulation. Distantly, he heard the raised voices of the others, but then Wei Ying was speaking—some lie about snacking on a creature that had wandered too close to the far side of the wall of his body, about how the noise had startled Lan Wangji awake out of a light doze—and then there was only the huff of breath and beat of his heart; the inner creaking of his body, held too long bent over itself; the wet sounds of Wei Ying still moving inside him. He couldn't bring himself to care if the others had bought Wei Ying's story or not. Lan Wangji had roomed in his share of tiny inns with thin walls. Floating in the afterglow, he felt that this situation was not all that much different.

Satisfaction had left him boneless and content to be looked after. He let himself be manhandled, shifted around so that Wei Ying could lick him clean and adjust his robes with gentle, skillful tongues that had once dragged unwary adventurers to their deaths.

He'd had the poems published. The first thing Lan Wangji had done when he had left that dungeon was to send the journal home with instructions for the collection to be published and distributed. He still thought back on that discovery with awe, sometimes. Such an incredible, unexpected find, a priceless treasure for lovers of poetry and history both. And it had been Wei Ying who had preserved those poems all along.

Lan Wangji felt himself gathered into a seat of polished wood, and he pressed his cheek against Wei Ying. “I will recite the poems for you,” he murmured. Years ago, Wei Ying had traded away a book of lost poetry at Lan Wangji's insistence, and apparently had no idea that the two of them had been reunited. Lan Wangji could surprise him, could return the beauty and power of those words to him. He knew that entire body of work by heart. All he needed was a moment to catch his breath.

Haha.... Lan Zhan, you're so cute. Rest for now. You can recite poems for me while we travel tomorrow.

“Mm. Whenever you want.” He felt an affectionate nibble on the crown of his head. “See you tomorrow, Wei Ying.”

See you tomorrow, Lan Zhan.

[savagewilderness]

I was going to reply in a comment, but I thought it could be interesting to discuss QOTD amongst us all?

I found your post interesting, OP as I also prefer TVL to QOTD (though I prefer QOTD to IWTV... not hugely... just slightly.). I love all 3 books myself though. The order for me is probably, essentially because...

I enjoy a deep-dive character study most of all... which TVL is

I actually think QOTD is probably objectively the best written book. Individual chapters I find super powerful & they make me cry (particularly Baby Jenks and Devil's Minion... but also Khayman, My Khayman I find affecting) & I know some people hate it, but I also love how Anne uses Stan's poetry in this book - not only for the poetry itself, but for the feeling and meaning behind that.

I adore the end of IWTV (probably my favourite book ending after Memnoch. I LOVE DEPRESSING ENDINGS, OK!?!) and I love the poetic prose that I would say all 3 books share... but in the middle, Louis does get a bit WEARING for me... there comes a point where I'm almost ready to shred the book myself, teehee!

Anyway, I love Akasha's despotic plan and find it interesting as she has a point, but is absolutely, utterly morally wrong for so many reasons (not least, her own hypocrisy! But also... genocide is always wrong... as if it needed stating, haha!)

What surprises me is not that the vampires don't worry more about their own death in killing her, but that no other vampire at all agrees with her if I am honest. After all, in TVL, Gabrielle expresses not-so-dissimilar thoughts to Lestat...

""You know the creatures of the night are ripe for a great leader," she said. "Not some superstitious mumbler of old rites, but a great dark monarch who will galvanize us according to new principles."

"What principles?" I asked. Ignoring the question, she went on.

"Imagine," she said, "not merely this stealthy and loathsome feeding on mortals, but something grand as the Tower of Babel was grand before it was brought down by the wrath ofGod. I mean a leader set up in a Satanic palace who sends out his followers to turn brother against brother, to cause mothers to kill their children, to put all the fine accomplishments of mankind to the torch, to scorch the land itself so that all would die of hunger, innocent and guilty! Make suffering and chaos wherever you turn, and strike down the forces of good so that men despair. Now that is something worthy of being called evil. That is what the work of a devil really is. We are nothing, you and I, except exotica in the Savage Garden, as you told me. And the world of men is no more or less now than what I saw in my books in the Auvergne years ago."

I hated this conversation. And yet I was glad she was in the room with me, that I was speaking to somebody other than a poor deceived mortal. That I wasn't alone with my letters from home.

"But what about your aesthetic questions?" I asked. "What you explained to Armand before, that you wanted to know why beauty existed and why it continues to affect us?"

She shrugged.

"When the world of man collapses in ruin, beauty will take over. The trees shall grow again where there were streets; the flowers will again cover the meadow that is now a dank field of hovels. That shall be the purpose of the Satanic master, to see the wild grass and the dense forest cover up all trace of the once great cities until nothing remains."

"And why call all this Satanic?" I asked. "Why not call it chaos? That is all it would be."

"Because," she said, "that is what men would call it. They invented Satan, didn't they? Satanic is merely the name they give to the behavior of those who would disrupt the orderly way in which men want to live."

"I don't see it."

"Well, use your preternatural brain, my blue-eyed one," she answered, "my golden-haired son, my handsome wolfkiller. It is very possible that God made the world as Armand said."

"This is what you discovered in the forest? You were told this by the leaves?"

She laughed at me.

"Of course, God is not necessarily anthropomorphic," she said. "Or what we would call, in our colossal egotism and sentimentality, `a decent person.' But there is probably God. Satan, however, was man's invention, a name for the force that seeks to overthrow the civilized order of things. The first man who made laws -- be he Moses or some ancient Egyptian king Osiris -- that lawmaker created the devil. The devil meant the one who tempts you to break the laws. And we are truly Satanic in that we follow no law for man's protection. So why not truly disrupt? Why not make a blaze of evil to consume all the civilizations of the earth?"

I was too appalled to answer.

"Don't worry." She laughed. "I won't do it. But I wonder what will happen in the decades to come. Will not somebody do it?"

"I hope not!" I said. "Or let me put it this way. If one of us tries, then there shall be war."

"Why? Everyone will follow him."

"I will not. I will make the war."

"Oh, you are too amusing, Lestat," she said.

"It's petty," I said.

"Petty!" She had looked away, out into the courtyard, but she looked back and the color rose in her face. "To topple all the cities of the earth? I understood when you called the Theater of the Vampires petty, but now you are contradicting yourself."

"It is petty to destroy anything merely for the sake of the destroying, don't you think?"

"You're impossible," she said. "Sometime in the far future there may be such a leader. He will reduce man to the nakedness and fear from which he came. And we shall feed upon him effortlessly as we have always done, and the Savage Garden, as you call it, will cover the world."

"I almost hope someone does attempt it," I said. "Because I would rise up against him and do everything to defeat him. And possibly I could be saved, I could be good again in my own eyes, as I set out to save man from this."

I was very angry. I'd left my chair and walked out into the courtyard.

She came right behind me.

"You have just given the oldest argument in Christendom for the existence of evil," she said. "It exists so that we may fight it and do good."

"How dreary and stupid," I said.

"What I don't understand about you is this," she said. "You hold to your old belief in goodness with a tenacity that is virtually unshakable. Yet you are so good at being what you are! You hunt your victims like a dark angel. You kill ruthlessly. You feast all the night long on victims when you choose."

"So?" I looked at her coldly. "I don't know how to be bad at being bad."

She laughed.

"I was a good marksman when I was a young man," I said, "a good actor on the stage. And now I am a good vampire. So much for our understanding of the word `good."'

After she had gone, I lay on my back on the flagstones in the courtyard and looked up at the stars, thinking of all the paintings and the sculptures that I had seen merely in the single city of Florence. I knew that I hated places where there are only towering trees, and the softest and sweetest music to me was the sound of human voices. But what did it matter really what I thought or felt?"

It's clearly a foreshadowing of Akasha, right? In fact, Gabrielle’s imagining goes one step further, for it would do away with ALL humanity! (Not sure how you’d feed then, Gabrielle?) Although Gabrielle imagines it will be brought about by a man. But there isn't one second when Gabrielle appears to remember this or reflect on these earlier thoughts...? Not one moment when she considers what Akasha is doing might be right. Anyway, I suppose it is as Akasha has stolen and damaged Lestat that Gabrielle doesn't have to question things?

But to the OP I'd say that not everyone wants to kill Akasha entirely easily (well Lestat certainly it isn’t easy for) & I think they’ve also all lived so long that true cruelty would in any case be to put their continued existence above that of half (and who knows - in the end, perhaps ALL?) of humanity! And if they die, they all die so there’s a sense in which they don’t have to worry - they will not go on existing with just their loved ones dead.

I do think she is all-out-villain because it is compounded by what she did as a human to Maharet and Mekare and by the fact that even as a human, Akasha is shown to be utterly amoral... and yet we can see that Lestat (& Marius before him) are drawn to her as she is also always incredibly powerful, alluring, beautiful and intriguing... they are ultimately men whose egos and vanity are stroked by the idea of her - this most powerful being - loving them too... I'd argue... which allows them to fall into the trap of her. (Maybe this reinforces Akasha's POV in a way?)

But despite the fact that Anne Rice isn't great at writing empathisable women, often, haha... I do think there's still interesting debate within the whole nature of Akasha's plan. There are plenty of people reading the book even now I have seen who think she has a point... ignoring the mass genocide... or, maybe finding it worth it? I see Akasha as absolutely WRONG, but not everyone does. (We see you, Jacob Anderson, hehehehehe!)

I also would say that I would consider parts of QOTD to be Anne at her most gothic... Devil's Minion for example.

But I do agree that for me QOTD as a whole works less well than TVL. For me it's because you're not in Lestat's mind enough - you're flitting about here there and everywhere and even if separate bits are impactful, as a whole it doesn't come together as well for me. I therefore find the book most interesting when we are back in Lestat's mind towards the end of the book, when he is taken by Akasha... which again... you keep leaving. But I can see why he is drawn to her and the fact we have the entire foundation of who he is, for me, makes what Akasha does to him and the impact of that all the more impactful.

But yeah, I love being in Lestat's mind with the way he thinks and his general philosophies on existence the most too. That's just what it is. I could read a 50-book-series just focussing on that myself!

I would say that subsequent books are not like QOTD... but I would say that one of the most "gothic" aspects to at least the next few books is the way in which (underlying, often not explicitly spoken) what Akasha made Lestat into (in terms of who he now is, but even moreso in terms of what he did) really haunts Lestat in a way he cannot get over for a long time...

I would also say that while they're not like QOTD.... they're probably less gothic in the sense of TVL and IWTV than QOTD, in the main.... it's hard to quantify something like that. But obviously you have to consider that Lestat's philosophy and worldview we already know by this point, so books from his perspective can at best reiterate or explore it further - necessarily through other experiences, now not just from what he thinks and feels as could be the case for Lestat in TVL and for Louis in IWTV... and Lestat does occasionally lose that purity/intensity of knowing his stance he has in TVL as he questions in the future...

I mean, I'm rambling... and I could ramble more, but I have to go out now so I'll just... stop... in the middle here...!

Sorry for rambling probably a load of idiocy!

I just finished Qotd and i enjoyed it a lot less that the first two books. Iwtv and tvl read like gothic novels, not just in terms of the setting, but in terms of the characters and their interactions, in terms of philosophy.

Parts 3 and 4 of Qotd read like an Avengers movie. I liked the legend of the twins as a standalone story, but ultimately the whole arc left me feeling hollow and unsatisfied. What was the point of all that? The book never dwells on the destruction of nearly every vampire or on the hypocrisy of Akasha's past vs present actions (only on how wrong her current plan is). And what was the point of describing over and over how powerful Akasha is only for her to be so easily destroyed? There was no argument betwen the surviving vampires about whether or not they should join her. No character ever truly considered the thrilling question of "would I kill her if it meant death to me and all my loved ones?" and in the end the question itself turned out to be completely meaningless.

I remember Assad said that no one's a mustache twirling villain in TVC, but i think Akasha is exactly that. I don't know what Anne was thinking when she wrote her (are there any interviews?) but to me she's not a grey character, not even an interesting character. I can see how Marius can be compelling to some people, Akasha just isn't. I can't relate to Lestat's love for her.

The final argument is clumsy and incomplete (although I think the show will improve this part considering the changes to Armand and Louis). While I was reading it I kept thinking "Anne, you should stay away from trying to comment on world's problems, your own worldview is too western-centric for that". She should've kept to universal things like death, grief and loneliness and yearning for recognition, she writes them well.

Just in general I personally always found small scale stories to be more emotionally and intellectually fulfilling than "save the world" plots. So my question is - are the rest of the books lile Qotd? I know TVA isn't, I'm wondering about the rest.

I'm sorry you didn't enjoy QotD.

And I know what you mean!! I also... was taken aback by the finale at the first reading(s).

Akasha... grew on me over time. There is more to it all, but at the point of the story you are at right now she really can come across as a bit... shallow. Let's put it that way.

Interestingly enough I find the almost flat finale very clever - Akasha is stopped, by an action as simple as brutal. They all think she is unstoppable, they all think it is impossible to kill her without dying themselves - but it only takes one actually little thing - and a self-sacrifice, to do so.

There is only one decisive action needed to stop Akasha's hypocrisy, which no-one else dared. Yes, Anne wrote this whole... prophesy around it, if you will, but ultimately that is what it boils down to.

--

And no, the other books are not like QotD. Each book is... decidedly different.

"The tale of the Body Thief"... is just that. "Memnoch the Devil" is a rather depressing excursion into mythology and God and the Devil, literally. "Blackwood Farm" and "Blood Canticle" cross over with the Blackwoods and the Mayfairs. "The Vampire Armand" is Armand's story and very, very different^^. "Merrick"... is mainly Louis' and the titular Merrick (Mayfair)'s story, but narrated by David. And the other three books are also a very wild ride.

No book in the chronicles is really like the other.

I hope you will find joy in reading them still.

[incorrectcats]

Plato for the character asks! :)

Oooooh our lovely pale boy, let’s go!

Plato

Why I like them

His lovely dance skills and his enthusiasm during Tugger’s number really got me to like him. Ginger tol boi.

Why I don’t

Too straight, he’s probably a dudebro ajnkjanf sns

Favorite episode (scene if movie)

The pas de deux, of course! ;;

Favorite line

... Does he have lines?

OTP

Platoria! I know, soooo original lol. Sorry, I love them ;; If it’s about OCs, then with @sugerbunnyart ‘s Azri!

Brotp

With Pouncival even though they are always arguing. Also with some older cats like George.

Head Canon

I think I’m borrowing this from @devizakura but Plato and jenny really look alike, so I’ve been thinking that maybe they could be related? It could be cute ;; Besides that, he appears to be quite serious when in reality he’s just shy af.

Unpopular opinion

Platoria is not a bad ship, fight me. And I don’t like the name Admetus for some reason lol.

A wish

I wish him and Vic would have more interactions before the pas de deux.

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen

*shrug* Honestly, I don’t know, sorry ;;

5 words to best describe them

Quiet, delicate, soft-on-the-inside, tall... Very tall, seriously akjfkajf

[teenagegothintegrity]

For the character songs ask, your favourite character from Gravity Falls? (I’m afraid I don’t know much about the show)

that would be good ol stanley pines.. i could go off about this man for hours (and i have) anyway!!

same damn life- seether (i never thought i could feel so small, but youre the one who cant live without attention. i never thought i would lose it all, but youre the one who needs the fucking intervention)

wrecking ball- mother mother (i made a fist and not a plan, call me a reckless wrecking ball. i throw my plates against the wall, and give it all i got. i aim to break not one but all. im just a big ol wrecking ball.)

fantastic bastards- death spells (i hate everything i do, cuz i learned it from you, im your bastard. but im not anything like you, im fantastic but still not worth your time)

post party depression- days n daze (peel the mask away, drop the masquerade, lose the tough guy facade...... youre the loose cannon who could never be trusted, so youll hide from the cops all alone. when the fire dies down what the fuck will you do? when the man comes around what the fuck will you do? whos gonna be there to catch you when your plans all fall through?)

brother- gerard way (the lights we chase, the nights we steal, the things that we take to make us feel. i cant go back, dont think i will. i wont sleep tonight as long as i still hear the drums of the city rain...... cuz the nights dont last, and we leave alone. will you drive me back? can you take me home?)

.......god these are all so angsty.. probably because when it comes to stan 80% of what i talk about is angst lmao

[butchybats]

💖 🔂 and 💿 for the MCR asks. :)

Thank you for the ask!!! <3

💖: Which song is your favourite?

I have so many so I’m gonna do my top 5 :D

Vampires will never hurt you, you know what they do to guys like us in prison, I never told you what I do for a living, this is how I disappear, and the sharpest lives

🔂: Which song is currently your most repeated?

Vampires will never hurt you

💿: Which album is your favorite?

Three cheers for sweet revenge!!!!

[lesbianwerewolfzoe]

I was just thinking about a Let The Right One In AU with the AMB. Sam is fifteen when Edgar and Alan move in next door. Alan is a vampire who is physically fifteen and Edgar is approaching fifty. They used to be hunters, but after Alan was turned, Edgar started hunting for him to minimise his body count. Edgar is getting older and less efficient, failing to get Alan his blood. Meanwhile, Alan begins to bond with Sam and reclaim his youth. Edgar knows he will eventually be replaced by Sam.

ohhhhh ouch i love itttttt...... i lowkey love the idea of edgar actually reaching out to sam and giving him bizarre cryptic advice that always leaves sam with more questions than answers....

also when alan was turned he absolutely spent so much time trying to convince edgar to let him turn him.. even now he brings it up on occasion. but edgar still cant let go of the little bit of vampire hunter still left in him. he cant even consider leaving his humanity behind, even for alan.

[hadescavedish]

@loathsome-aesthete  sent me B7 ask regarding shipping. Thanks!!! <3 (if anyone couldn’t send me ask, just pm me, I might be shy but to these questions I am not ;D)

OTP: This, to be honest, is a very difficult question, because I don’t have a strict policy regarding shipping (as long as the ship works for me, I don’t oppose) but also I believe friendship exists for other people (regardless of gender, so V or C, whoever I talked about there, could be true friends without the whole concept of shipping) In short, if let me choose, that would be B/A (or B-A, whatever that might mean) because I genuinely believe, at least in my headcanon of their personalities, they would work pretty well if they were born in a different society--- in a totally different scenario. As I pointed out earlier, in their society, trust is an expensive thing. Why they work for me: ok, their fit in my template (dreamer and logician), they shared somewhat similar background (as showed in their way of talking and behaving), and they even had knowledges that are similar fields, their personality difference benefit each other a great deal in some situation. However the tragedy they had is one of things that haunted me, too. 

To me, Avon accidentally grew a bit as he realised there was no Eden in their little universe. Ideally, I imagine there would be a day that they could be themselves (Boucher said, Avon’s dream would be retiring in the sun, I don’t doubt that) 

NOTP: Avon/Dayna, no please, I don’t care what fanfic writers think (Blake/Dayna would be the same case, oh yes there are fanfics about them, I’m afraid) bc in happy AUs I imagine B and A are her stepfathers, so NO. 

OT3: Outside DS9, I don’t really have an OT3, I wouldn’t mind reading B/A/C though. 

A currently canon ship I’m okay with, but don’t prefer: In this universe there are so few of ships that could be canon. And some of haven’t really been confirmed (let’s say, Avon and Servalan) so let me choose that would be Servalan/Tarrant, I think Tarrant could have one off with a villainess, but that doesn’t mean he needs to stay with her, Dayna would work better. Lol.

A ship that would only work in an AU, but would be awesome: jesus this is so hard to answer. Se/Tr, office AU, I love bloody drama as long as blood is not involved. 

A ship I’d like to see explored, but not stick around: B/J, A/Se, A/C (for totally different reasons, B and J have much easier relationship than any ship on this show, and somehow similar to A/C, but I see Jenna as someone once saw through the situatio--- there is no future she would just walk out, she wouldn’t want to change her very nature for that, and she had took care of herself pretty well as she always did, I don’t believe Blake’s words that she is dead. As for Servalan, I would read fics that she and Avon are not endgame, she is the shoulder evil compared to Blake as shoulder angel, and the only way A/Se would be together is to diminish both parties’ character, so uh

A and C are a very hard answer because they worked well together but I just want true friendship between an introvert man and an introvert woman, as I think of John and Teyla, that is the same case)

A ship that may as well be canon: um... J/Se???? (I am half joking, though we need to talk about how Servalan changed her clothing in Pressure Point) 

The ships I’d give my OTP pair, if the other died: For Avon, that would be Vila. But my policy is if currently I read a thing about one ship, let’s just be exclusive to two of them at the moment. 

A crossover ship I’d dig: Vila and Quark. (but I guess this happened only one night and they regretted it, and Odo put both in holding cell and when Avon tried to find Vila later on, he already got out by himself) Also Teyla Emmagan and Cally, they are both ass-kicking and telepathic and serene, why not, it would be my field day. 

A ship that would work great in a Coffee Shop AU: J/C and D/So, why not. (to be fair there are already some coffee shop AU fics out there but features none of those ships I mentioned :( )

A ship that would work great in a Sitcom AU: A/V--- They ARE a sitcom. They would be stars.  

[corpse-of-bandersnatch]

Ship asks for @loathsome-aesthete , who had a lot of fine questions for me <3

I decided to answer them all in separate posts instead of all in one. I feel better, when I post the finished asks immediately, makes me feel like I accomplished something.

So here is ship post Nr. 1/8 for you! <3

Ship that needs more love

Damar x Weyoun

SUCH A MISSED OPPORTUNITY

Their dynamic could've developed in so many different interesting ways, based on their common ground, but it's never used in the show and the ship doesn't appear in fan works often enough. Both is a shame.

Some thoughts:

Damar and Weyoun 5/7 are enemies with benefits. They are on the same side, but they hate each other but they bang each other. Until Damar defects just to meet Weyoun 6 on the other side (and with other side I mean the federation, not afterlife, since none of them died, of course.)

Naturally, they are not fond of each other at the beginning. But they are bonded by the fact, that they both defected. They don't want that bond, but they have it. And it allows them to talk with each other in a way they can't with anybody else. Probably they start from spite, just to end up realizing that they have more in common with 'that awful person' than they want to admit.

Imagine Damar coming dangerously close to relapse into alcoholism, after hundreds of Cardassians die in a battle against the federation, the side he's on now. He goes into a bar (Quark's probably, since everyone's always hanging out on DS9), just to meet Weyoun 6, who has the opposite problem. He's searching for a substance, that eases his feelings of guilt and pain, but nothing has any effect on his body.

They notice each other, start to make fun of the other's problem and kinda slide into a more serious, less spiteful conversation about addiction and reasons for it. They learn things they never wanted to know about someone they despise. But now they do and they can't help but start to feel sympathy.

Also I want Weyoun to ask Bashir for some handy hints on how to please your scaly boyfriend in bed. Before Bashir gets a chance to answer, Garak appears out of nowhere (we all know he has that ability) and suggests, that 'Showing and learning by doing would be way more effective than talk'.

And then they have a foursome. C:

[bensiskos]

1, 5 and 7 for the ask meme? x

1: top 3 favorite female characters? 

Oh definitely Kira nerys because she was the character that kinda got me hooked on Star Trek, Kathryn Janeway because I’m glad she wasn’t written badly, and does the founder count? Because she’s cool too. 

5: episode plot you wished they had handled differently?

 Basically just change all of that episode where quark has to pretend to be female.

7: who would make up your crew dream team? 

Uhh b’elanna for my chief engineer, jadzia as my first officer, Tasha as my chief of security, and data as my science officer! I know I kinda mixed up their jobs a bit. 

Thank you so much!

[cobra-creampuff]

actually you know what. literally YES we are supposed to be ""handwaving"" away where the real stede bonnet's wealth came from. in the exact same way we're supposed to be ""handwaving"" the fact that the real blackbeard was white and a rapist, and that bonnet, blackbeard, and hands were all under 30 at the time our story is taking place.

when engaging with fiction the conventions of the genre are important and should directly inform your interpretation.

historical fiction is fictional. the conventions of the genre are that creators cherry pick aspects of their chosen time setting to create an environment and and aesthetic to be the delivery method of something else.

when you start reading or watching or listening to a piece of historical fiction, the set up and exposition will tell you where to expect inaccuracies. it is your job as an audience to either accept them or if they're unacceptable to you to find something else to enjoy. write a scathing review if you must, tell your friends you don't recommend it, make something yourself set in the same time period that has different inaccuracies instead (because it won't have none), etc. but pointing at an inaccuracy in a piece of historical fiction that formally introduced itself in the beginning and asking what it's doing there is quite silly.

of course stede bonnet, fictional character, doesn't have slaves - or at the very least it would be tonally jarring and narratively ineffective to show him doing so in this particular work. he is here to be an insufferable silly little guy who is coming of age at 46 and romancing a pirate on the jaunty high seas with benny hill music metaphorically playing in the background. it would have to be a completely different story, and he a completely different character, to put that particular historical accuracy in.

romance is also fictional. the conventions of the genre are that conflicts and/or the relevant consequences thereof are primarily interpersonal, that it is fun and/or sentimental, and that there will be a relatively clear cut happy ending. there's almost certainly some aspect of wish fulfillment fantasy.

romance is one of the genres that is most adherent to its conventions. all romance is the same at its most basic level, and that is a feature of the genre for its fans not a bug. the leads are attractive and lovable. characteristics that in real life might be unattractive and loathsome - like, for example, extreme wealth - but that would be attractive if only they could magically exist without any of the real world things that make them suck... will be present as things that are attractive by necessarily removing the real world things that make them suck, because it's fiction and you can do magic there. the characters are created to be endgame love interests from inception. they simply won't have qualities that make them impossible for the other one to love. they are not real people who have to meet by chance and make a relationship work with effort, they were formulated in a lab to be in this relationship with this person forever. yes, even when the characters are based on people who were real. in some cases (like this one), especially then.

stede bonnet, fictional character, would not fall in love with a rapist. therefore blackbeard, fictional character made to be a love interest to him, cannot be a rapist. blackbeard, fictional character, would not fall in love with a slave owner. therefore stede bonnet, fictional character made to be a love interest to him, cannot own slaves. this has to be true for the story to remain a romance.

(or i suppose you could write a romance romantic narrative between bonnet, slaver, and blackbeard, rapist, if you really wanted to. it wouldn't qualify for the specific genre of RomanceTM though, and it would be niche as hell if it had any audience at all, and there certainly would be no benny hill music metaphorical or otherwise. see? this is something else now, practically unrecognizable from what we started with despite having the same historical setting and characters.)

comedy, unlike romance, is one of the genres most versatile and least beholden to convention. however, it still has to be funny. of course, dramatic relief in comedy is just as important as comedic relief in drama, but the primary goal of comedy is to make the audience laugh. and while there are not many conventions other than that, and a skillful enough comedian really can find a way to explore any topic in a way that's funny, a romantic comedy must necessarily also follow the rules of romance - or else it is not a romantic comedy. it can't have jokes in it that ruin the romance.

and tbf, recognizing as an audience that a detail or topic that would be true and relevant if this were all really happening isn't necessarily true or relevant or is just never going to come up in a work of fiction for reasons inherent to that particular work is not ""handwaving"" those things away. those things are not there, in this thing. and if you want to think about those things in the context of this one specific thing that doesn't have them, that's what fanfiction is for. but it's an added thing, not something that is missing from the source or that is being ignored by the creators or other audience members.

[moviegroovies]

Hey there! I just wanted to tell you that I really enjoy how you dig into the films that you like, it’s really fun to read. I especially enjoyed your Lost Boys thoughts and headcanons. There are a couple that inspired me to make some meta/headcanon posts of my own, so thank you for that! If I may ask a couple of questions: What are your favourite films? And what sort of films do you like, in case I can make any recommendations?

omg i can’t believe i didn’t see this before (so i don’t know how long it’s been sitting here... sorry!) but wow thank you!!!! personally, my favorite films rn are probably: ghostbusters, the lost boys, heathers, little shop of horrors, re-animator, bill & ted’s excellent adventure, and the rocky horror picture show. definitely leaving some out but those are all at the top of the list lol. as for the kind of movies i like, honestly i’m not very picky and i generally enjoy every movie WHILE i’m watching it. that being said, my very favorite movies are mostly like... tacky horror. maybe that’s not exactly the descriptive term, but i like things with horror elements that don’t take themselves too seriously (other than bill & ted’s i’d say all the movies i just listed are examples of what i mean, with various degrees of “horror”). also, it’s gotta be homoerotic. bonus points for vampires, time travel, or musical elements, lmfao. i would love to hear some recommendations!!!! seriously hmu and i’ll try to watch them asap!