#extolls my love for vampires

[bg-brainrot]

Hugs for a Vampire (Astarion x GN!Reader) - Chapter 9: Before Reaching Baldur's Gate

Chapter 9: Before Reaching Baldur's Gate

Each chapter can be read as a standalone hug.

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Rogue!Tav)

Genre: Fluffy, Filling in Canon

Rating: Teen

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Act 2, Canon-typical violence, consent, cw: alcohol

WC: 1.7k words, 9/18 chapters

Summary: Set during that one rest between Act 2 and Act 3 -- they talk about consent a bit, establishing their hug-boundaries.

Ao3 | [Hug8][Hug10] | Hugs for a Vampire Masterlist

Tonight you’ve set up camp in a fortress, just one sleep away from your final destination: Baldur’s Gate. You’ve never been so anxious, so excited, felt so many different emotions, just from staring at the city you call home.

It’s been a difficult journey, one that your companions have felt just as deeply as you have. So when you see the city illuminated in the distance, you know it’s a welcome sight for you all– a true victory, one that not even the Absolute can take from you.

As their de facto leader, you know this is a time for the group to celebrate its win. And you just know that the view from the battlements is better than anything you can get from your tents down here. “Hey!” you call out to your group. A few perk up from their nightly routines, several start to walk over. “Who wants to climb that tower over there? I bet you we can see all of Baldur’s Gate from up there.”

It doesn’t take long before the entire party is clamoring up the ladder to reach the heights above you. Not even Gale, who’s making the entire climb through groans and cries about his bad knees, would miss this view.

You’re the first to reach the top, leading the pack up and climbing with practiced efficiency. As soon as you raise your head, your breath catches. It’s beautiful, you think to yourself. And it truly is, lit up like the beacon of hope you know it to be. Home.

As you walk to the edge of the tower, you can hear your companions filing in behind you. “There it is! Even after a decade, it’s lovely as ever!” Karlach extols enthusiastically.

“I’ve only been away for seven years, but my heart is no less elated,” Wyll responds, his eye crinkling in excitement.

“I’ve only been away for a few months, and I don’t understand how adventurers do this for years,” Astarion grumbles. “You both must have backs made of steel to sleep on the ground this often.” He easily takes his place next to you, arms-crossed, shoulder nudging yours ever so slightly as he stops. You nudge back a bit, but continue to stare out into the slumbering city, listening to your companions banter.

Karlach laughs a bit bitterly before saying, “Didn’t have much of a choice. Though I will say that you hardly notice what you’re sleeping on when you’re busy destroying demons.”

“Well, I still notice while destroying cultists,” the vampire responds, voice tinged with annoyance. Then to you he asks, “And what are you so enchanted by?” He leans into you more, and your body ends up at an awkward angle.

“We're so close," you say, simply, allowing yourself to rest on the crenellation next to you for balance. As it so often happens with him, you’re reminded of a cat demanding attention. “Aren’t you looking forward to it?”

He scoffs, lightly jostling you as he does so. “Of course I am, Cazador won’t know what’s coming for him.”

You grin at that, recalling your earlier conversations with Astarion, who was so worried that fighting Cazador would be impossible. Your group has faced the impossible now, facing a mad vampire lord seemed right within your grasp. “Damn right,” you say, finally turning to look at him, only to find his face incredibly close, eyes staring at you intently. “What’s the matter?”

Astarion looks back at the rest of your group, conversing amongst themselves, pointing out buildings in the cityscape, otherwise wholly preoccupied. Satisfied, he turns back to you and pouts. “Darling, would it kill you to hug me every once in a while?”

You startle, what is he talking about? Thinking back, you’re certain you hug him quite a bit, more than once in a while. You say as much, “Love, is your head alright? I swear I gave you a hug just yesterday.”

He continues to lean into you, but keeps his arms firmly crossed. “Yes, of course you hug me back,” he starts, tone explanatory. “But you barely ever hug me first. I can only think of one such instance and, while I much appreciated it, I would appreciate more.”

His words ring true, you realize. You’re not sure how much of it is a choice that you’ve consciously made or if it’s born of your underlying worry. It hasn’t been long since you entered this new phase in your relationship, and the past couple of weeks have been a lot of trial and error to get to a place of some comfort and understanding. As such, you know exactly why you’ve been careful, consciously or not. “I don’t want to touch you if you’re not ready for it,” you say, tilting your head toward his, whispering your words away from the rest of the group.

The vampire freezes a moment, his eyebrows knitting into a look of concern. “While I appreciate the sentiment, darling, a hug isn’t exactly carnal.”

You give him a flat look. “Of course it isn’t,” you respond back. “But it’s still… intimate. You should be allowed to decide when that happens. If you hug me, I know you want it to happen.”

Astarion finally uncrosses his arms, only to rub at his temple in exasperation. “Ugh, you’re being disgustingly considerate,” he says, closing his eyes. “It’s times like this that I wonder how we’ve even gotten this far.”

“Hey!” you exclaim in indignation. Lowering your voice again, you continue, “You know you’re the only one I’m this considerate to. I even told Gale we don’t have time for his little shopping trip.”

The vampire opens his eyes and shoots you a wry smile. “Ah, the very epitome of an unflinching leader. Besides, we both know you’ll give in to him anyway.”

“I will not,” you say, without much conviction.

“Regardless,” he says, holding up a hand. “I appreciate your kindness, but I am not a porcelain doll– as much as I may look it.” Astarion tilts his head up, as if to catch the starlight in his silver hair.

Pursing your mouth, you consider his words. Have I been too careful? “I… know that. I’m sorry, love. I’ll work on that, alright?”

“I know how you could start,” his eyes twinkle at you expectantly. 

“With a hug?”

“Yes, gods, just hug me already.”

Some part of you still worries, still hesitates, but in the light of Astarion’s pleading expression they melt away a bit. Facing the silhouette of the city you both call home, you wrap an arm around him and pull him into your side. “Like this?” you turn to ask him, noses almost touching.

“Mmm, it shall do,” he answers softly, leaning into your hug, touching his nose to yours for a moment before looking out at the city. “What a romantic scene we've stumbled into. I can see why bards write about it.”

You hum in agreement, tilting your head to touch his. “Maybe if we save this gods forsaken city a few bards will pick up our tale.”

“In that case,” he starts, finally wrapping his own arm around you, squeezing you to him. “We’d best make it memorable.”

You stand in each others’ arms for a while, occasionally pointing at the city as you spot places you’d like to share with each other. You’re not sure how long you spend staring out at Baldur’s Gate together before your companions jolt you back to reality.

“Oi! Lovebirds!” You both turn in unison without hesitation to the source of the interruption, Karlach. Her and the rest of the group have gathered back at the ladder.

It’s Shadowheart that responds, “It’s getting a bit chilly up here. What do you say we pop open a bottle of wine and celebrate our return home?”

“As long as it’s not firewine,” you reply, shuddering at the idea of drinking any more of that swill. Pulling Astarion by the torso, you start to move toward the group.

He tugs you back gently, ignoring your questioning eyes to call to the group, “We’ll be down in a bit, not done here quite yet.”

“Suit yourselves! But take too long and I will drink all the good shit!” Karlach says, laughing as she heads down the ladder. The rest follow right behind her, their words and footsteps fading on the night’s breeze.

Once they’ve left, you look back at your lover, eyebrow raised. “And what aren’t we done with yet?”

“Our hug, obviously,” he says, waving his free hand at you. “Or did you really think a paltry one-armed hug would satisfy a man of such appetites?”

You only take a second to process his words before gladly diving into him with both of your arms. You wrap Astarion in an all-encompassing embrace, a vice-grip full of love and warmth. “Better?” you ask, turning your head to the crook of his neck.

“Much,” he sighs into your hair, reciprocating the hug with no hesitation. A moment passes in a silent buzz of happiness, before he speaks again. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding ridiculous,” he begins. “But here, in your arms, it almost feels like I’ve already made it back home.”

Your heart thumps in your chest, but you’ve gotten better at surviving his sincere compliments. “You’re right, I should hug you more often.”

“I knew you would see reason,” he laughs. “And if you're ever worried about hugging me, you're quite welcome to ask. Now, since you always ask so nicely, would you allow me to kiss you?”

Lifting your head from his shoulder, you nod. “Yes, please.”

Astarion smiles at you, an unfiltered joy shining in his eyes. His cool fingers cup your chin as he pulls your face toward his. Your eyes close as your lips meet his in a slow, tender kiss. With the city as your backdrop and this lovely man in your arms, the world feels more focused, your purpose clearer. Baldur’s Gate awaits you, and you’ve never been so eager to answer its call.

[alexanderlightweight]

outsider pov for the true blood shadow heir alec, for the wednesday prompt?

Here we go! I hope you enjoy

- lumine

-

“Ragnor!” A voice yells and Ragnor freezes, chancing a wary glance at Magnus who has gone from relaxed to wary and predatorial.

“Oh? Cabbage, I didn’t think anyone besides Cat and I had portal privileges?” Magnus asks and there is a suspicion to his tone and Ragnor says goodbye to a peaceful night.

“No one else does.” Ragnor admits and then he sends Magnus a piercing glare. “And no, that doesn’t mean he’s a threat. I’ll explain later and for the love of everything, don’t react poorly to his runes. I may be able to replace this cottage but I cannot replace the only nephil company I enjoy.”

Magnus mock holds his hands up and chuckles, a dark glint of humor in his voice.

“I don’t touch your toys, you know that.”

Ragnor sighs and rubs the base of his horns.

“Laddie, I’m in the den.” Ragnor calls out and Magnus gleefully mouths ‘laddie’ at him. “Don’t you start, ducky.” Ragnor says with a long suffering with a sigh.

“I have a present.” Alec yells back and Ragnor perks up, because Alec always has the most unusual things that he brings as presents.

“Do not react poorly.” He warns Magnus, “the lad brings me a variety of odds and ends. Nothing he brings is a threat.”

Magnus says nothing but Ragnor just knows that he’s calculating mentally.

Alec enters and he must know by now that Ragnor has a guest but he doesn’t seem to care, which is quite unlike him.

“I got my excuse.” Alec tells him, almost giddy and the lad is covered with a ridiculous amount of blood and what Ragnor is certain is vampire ash.

“Laddie, my carpet.” Ragnor bemoans and his magic shuffles over Alec; cleaning him off without a second thought. Alec barely reacts other than to send him a sheepish look and then he’s offering a box.

Ragnor is too distracted by how dark the box is, by how it seems almost hungry, to wonder at the contents.

“Is that?” Ragnor asks carefully and Alec nods and Ragnor reaches out to gently take the box. “How extraordinary. I wasn’t aware you’d progressed so far.”

“There wasn’t a reason to show you before.”

“But there is now? The box isn’t the gift?” Ragnor opens it eagerly and stares and he forgets Magnus — a stupid, silly mistake — is there and watching.

“You did it.” Ragnor marvels, “and there will be no political, legal or magical ramifications?”

“Camille Belcourt’s heart is yours, Ragnor.” Alec says with a dark smirk, “it was harvested in defense of a mundane. After Camille violated a magical oath between my Institute and her clan. What I do with it is my own business and I’m giving it to you. Free of ties.”

There’s a hot flare of magic and Ragnor hisses, ready to throw up a wall between Alec and Magnus. Except then he has to look at Magnus and instead of anger, he sees a hungry interest.

Magnus has been after Camille’s heart for almost three centuries now and it’s only because of oaths and the possible backlash that Magnus hasn’t just crushed her unbeating heart.

Not for his own sake, Magnus would have survived the backlash. But Camille was clever and Magnus will never be willing to risk Cat or Ragnor.

Which is why Ragnor — when given the opportunity — may have cheerfully extolled how terrible Camille is and how dearly Ragnor wishes to kill her to Alec.

Because if you want to kill someone who is strongest in the dark, then Alec is who you ask.

Or in Ragnor’s case, imply a level of disdain and annoyance and then sit back and watch the show. Alec has hated Camille since he was nine and been looking for an excuse to kill her since he was eleven.

Personally, considering that they’ve been all trying to kill Camille for decades upon decades, Ragnor is quite pleased with himself.

Alec has proven to be as brilliant as Ragnor hoped and has only continued to endear himself to Ragnor.

Which means Ragnor would rather not have to step in, if Magnus gets a little overly interested.

Which he probably will, considering how much he detests Camille.

“Oh? A present for Ragnor?” Magnus asks, something sly in his tone.

“Yes?” Alec is confused and then Ragnor watches in shocked disbelief as Alec, stoic little star eater Alec, blushes.

Magnus makes a noise that sounds like the distorted cross between a coo and a purr and Ragnor’s protective instincts flare.

“Oh no! No, he’s the Head of the New York institute.” He tells Magnus and it’s a mistake because Magnus’ interest only grows. “No! Absolutely not. I’ve practically had a hand in raising the lad!” Ragnor protests, because while they’ve never even hinted at it, either of them, Ragnor also knows he’s the only adult male Alec respects.

The only adult male that he didn’t first have a crush on, Ragnor reminds himself. Because technically, there are two.

“Oh? And yet you never mentioned him.” Magnus’ gaze is almost malevolent as he eyes Ragnor and if he were anyone else, Ragnor would be preparing to write his own eulogy. Instead he summons a pot of tea and a cup and sighs.

“Matters of confidentiality and children.” Ragnor reminds him and Magnus huffs and sends him a wicked sneer even as his golden eyes roam appreciatively over Alec.

Ragnor settles in and summons his pipe and then he sighs and motions to Magnus. “Just give the box to him, laddie. It was always meant to go to him.”

Alec is curious, but he just turns and he gives another hopelessly shy smile to Magnus and Ragnor has never been so torn in his life.

On one hand, Alec is a shadowhunter and he has an immense and coveted power that even the clave can’t control. On the other hand… Magnus is Magnus.

So perhaps the two can balance each other out, which is better than Ragnor thought to hope for.

Magnus opens the box and reaches out with his magic. For a moment, Ragnor fears it’s the wrong heart but then a blissful, gorgeous smile slowly grows on Magnus’ face.

“Thank you, darling. For bringing me something so incredibly important.” Magnus tells Alec as he closes the lid. His voice is low and intimate as his magic shimmers across the box until it vanishes.

“I… it was for Ragnor?”

“Yes, but Ragnor wanted it for me.” Magnus tells Alec and Alec, suspicious and distrustful Alec Trueblood nods, like he could never imagine Magnus telling him anything but the truth. “Therefore, I would like to thank you.”

Magnus winks and Ragnor would normally wish to be anywhere else, except that Alec is turning pink and he just stuttered. Which is a more genuine emotion than Ragnor normally gets out of him on a good year.

“You're welcome.”

Alec says at the same time Magnus says, “with dinner.”

There’s a pause and Alec looks confused and delighted and even more confused about being both and Magnus looks mildly shocked.

“He’d love to.” Ragnor interjects dryly, “just tell him where and when and he’ll show up. Though use a fire message, his phones rarely last long.”

Alec sends him a flustered, panicked look and Ragnor smirks and blows a smoke ring at him. A little arrow made of shadows pierces the middle of the smoke, scattering it gleefully before dispersing.

Magnus is watching with ravenous interest and Ragnor internally sighs because honestly, he is always on Magnus' side.

And if Magnus wants Alec, then Ragnor will help him get and keep him… with some rules.

[inkstainsxxonxxparchment]

'Vancula' Questions...

obligatory otp asks for vancula ;) 4. Which one is more protective? Who needs to be ‘protected’? 6. Who would beg the other not to leave? Who has to leave to protect the other? 18. How likely are they to have fur babies? How many and what kind? 20. Choose one song that perfectly describes their relationship. 37. Which is more likely to swear? 38. Who is more sexually experimental? Who's more vanilla? 56. What do they do turn the other on/put them in the mood? 59. Who tops? Who bottoms? 60. Who pulls the other closer when they’re sleeping? (sorry so many! answer at your leisure!)

4. Which one is more protective? Who needs to be ‘protected’? To be fair, it depends on the situation even if they will in their way vehemently deny it. For instance, if Dracula is dealing with someone hunting him and they've gotten too close or aggressive in ways then it makes Helsing feel like he has to step in and take care of his vampire. For Van Helsing, Dracula feels he needs it if he's dealing with vampires or a great many other people that he deems having ill-will towards the hunter he is very territorial over.

6. Who would beg the other not to leave? Who has to leave to protect the other? Van Helsing would be the one begging in my opinion and it would be Dracula leaving to try and protect him if he feels like he's too dangerous for the other to be around. Noted that it never lasts too long but it's always accompanied by a terribly heart-breaking fight that both of them are at odds only because they want the other safe but in the end, it ends up having them realize that the danger apparently isn't worse than the distance is.

18. How likely are they to have fur babies? How many and what kind? Van Helsing loves animals and will have any he finds that are injured nursing them back to health and at least one or two of his own which involves so many sticky notes with variations of 'you will not see our pets as snacks, Count' all over the place. Mostly cats of a particular color especially if they tend to have familiar traits that he is so very fond of. Dracula is very sure that the other is testing his bloodlust though the fact that they make his hunter happy is enough for him to let it go (and perhaps he does like the ones who curl in his lap purring and warm and strangely sweet but only when Van Helsing cannot see). That and he finds the sticky notes amusing.

20. Choose one song that perfectly describes their relationship.

I am cheating and using two because these two have such a complicated relationship so it would be a mix of 'Hit Me with your Best Shot' and 'Time after Time'.

Their relationship spans decades and iterations mixing enemies to/and lovers but always in a circle dragging them together again. It's a constant so it was very hard to find one song that eclipses all that.

37. Which is more likely to swear? Van Helsing is the more likely to swear; he's got the vocabulary and knows more of them and when he's angry will definitely drop into a tirade. Not usually in regular speech but when he wants to get a point across. For Dracula, it takes a huge loss of control and those are the moments that Helsing chases because it's when he's fully into certain amorous activities and is a mark of pride for him to have his partner losing such control of himself.

38. Who is more sexually experimental? Who's more vanilla? At first, Van Helsing is more vanilla. He has more sexual experience than his vampire bf but when he finds out how much Dracula enjoys the sensations and intensity experiments wanting to grant him all best of things. And while aspects of his sexuality still make him leery (a personal hc for said character), the end result is that he wants to enjoy and have his partner enjoy their time together as much as possible.

So he definitely brings Dracula to a sex shop and goes through the various items extolling the virtues and downfalls and it has Dracula just staring dead-pan while looking bored out of his mind even as he's already making a list. Can't have anyone but his hunter know what he likes after all

56. What do they do turn the other on/put them in the mood? While I do not think it takes much at all, my favorite thought on this is surprisingly enough to do with how they plant nipping kisses on the other's jaw and throat. This is especially and strangely effective on Dracula who has never had someone do this and Van Helsing has learned exactly where to nip and pull to get his attention. Dracula has always been pretty direct though he has found along the way that there is something to be said for slowly shifting into the doctor's space especially if he's been working at a desk for hours and slowly lean into let himself nuzzle at his neck before dragging the tips of fangs along it. Definitely will always get his attention and the more sudden the more jerking of a response and a sharpened breath that the other finds rather intoxicating...

59. Who tops? Who bottoms? To be honest, they switch but more often then not, Dracula prefers to have the other in more control especially if he's feeling in a mood where he's not sure he's amenable to being "safe" for the other. He doesn't trust that something terrible won't happen in the midst of intimacies and while he's never really concerned himself about such encounters or if someone survives while with him, Helsing is different and he'd prefer not to have some terrible accident befall him.

It's more an illusion of control in some ways but it's enough for him to feel like the other might have a bit more of a chance if instincts override all else.

And Van Helsing is never one to deny his partner's comfort at all.

60. Who pulls the other closer when they’re sleeping?

It depends on the events of the day and their moods. If Van Helsing has a particularly bad time of it then he's prone to tuck himself into the other seeking just a familiar weight and presence. Or if he's feeling poorly and needs to lower his temperature. Other than that, it's Dracula draping himself around him seeking his warmth and entangling him which Van Helsing will never not find endearing of the other.

Regardless, they end up tangled and it has led to many embarrassing tumbles to the floor that ends in a bit of well-meant teasing and insults.

@thatdoodlebug because I am absolutely living for not just answering things about our shared ship but fine-tuning how their relationship unfolds. So never apologize for any amount of questions, darling. <3 <3 <3

[iricathel]

— 𝕯𝖊𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖎𝖈 𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖘 —

Before introducing the names of my characters, I must emphasize that they all originate from ancient Greece. The reason for this is that the characters actually have roots in Greece (taking into account their location and development within Makai), so it would be ideal if their demonic names came from this ethnicity regardless of their nationality.

Having this in mind, these names would only be used within Makai and characterized as their true and original names, since their secondary names would only work as a cover in the human realm to camouflage and blend in with people. With all this I would also like to add that I headcanon that these demonic names could be given away at their maturity celebration (when they are able to drink blood for the first time) which would be at the age of 10, meanwhile, they would use their human name as an alias.

🫧 Irina: Thalia — Meaning "the merry one" or "the flourishing one," this name comes from one of the 9 muses in Greek mythology, daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne. This muse presided the comedy and idyllic poetry*, besides that it was one of the three Graces.

This name was given to Irina due to her development and a rather cheerful and gentle personality during her childhood, as well as being quite dreamy and charm due to the romantic fantasy books she read, poetry being one of her all-time favorite genre.

* Idyllic poetry is based on the romantic and sometimes erotic feeling of love, although it does not have dialogue, it comes from the Greek "eidyllion" or small image according to its translation. Of a brief and simple composition, but very expressive that extols a life normally field, giving way to the tranquility and sensuality of an environment, state or moment.

🫧 Zazu: Keelan — Although the origin of this name is unknown, its meaning would be "thin" or "skinny", however, in Gaelic it would be "slender" or "fair".

The reason why Zazu received this name was simply as a taunt or insult that the villagers in the area he lived in used to say, later becoming his final name. These taunts logically attacked his physique, which was quite thin, even becoming malnourished due to the scarcity of food he ate at that time, obviously also appearing very weak.

🫧 Arnold: Basil — It comes from the Greek name 'Basileos' which means "royal", therefore its meaning would be "king" which alleges that he is a powerful and ambitious man. However, interestingly it also means "basil" like the herbaceous grass. According to the legend, there was a basil plant in the place in Jerusalem where Empress Eelena of Constantinople found the True Cross.

The reason for this name was mainly due to the strong and tough character that Arnold presented at an early age, showing great leadership skills and ambition that made him stand out among his other brothers as the best option to inherit the throne. However, it also had a background with basil, which is characteristic for attracting health, fortune and money; as well as being a good luck charm.

🫧 Vera: Calliope — It was another of the 9 muses, prestige of epic poetry* and eloquence besides being the main muse. Its meaning is "the one with the beautiful voice".

Although Vera has been a former human, she was able to be gifted with a demonic name after her transformation into a vampire thanks to Arnold, who gave her this name due to her intelligence and cunning to convince people only by speaking, coming to have a very sweet and serene voice for him being able to listen for hours straight to Vera talking about the most absurd thing.

* The Greek nobility was very fond of hearing the heroic warfare deeds of their ancestors, with which they identified. The epic poems (from the Greek word epos, "narration") that recounted them were composed and transmitted orally by itinerant poets, called aedos or rhapsodists.

🫧 Callie: Nefeli — This name comes from the Greek 'nefos', which means "cloud". According to Greek mythology, Nephele was a cloud nymph created by Zeus from a cloud in the image of Hera. Mother of the centaurs, she is also the goddess of hospitality and appears in the story of Frixos and Elli and in the myth of the golden fleece.

The origin of her demonic name is more attached to the Greek mythology, since Camille was born as the spitting image of her mother Vera. So inspired by the myth, they decided to give her this name as she was the nymph with the image of Vera.

🫧 Belmont: Thaddeus — It's a name derived from Theodorus of the greek 'theos' "God" and 'doron' "gift; thus being its meaning "the gift of God" although "brave heart" is also attributed to its derivation.

Belmont was not given this name yet since he is only 7 years old, but when the time comes for his ceremony this would definitely be his demonic name due to his adventurous and energetic spirit, being quite a daring and unscrupulous child.

🫧 Herkus: Iasonas — Coming from the greek 'iason' its meaning would be "the healer". In Greek mythology, Iason was the Thessalian hero who led the Argonauts and went in search of the Golden Fleece, in order to regain the throne of Iolcos, his homeland.

This name was given to him by his own mother wishing that Herkus could get the throne since despite being a bastard son, he still has the right of inheritance even though the chance is quite low due to his reputation.

[jennablackmorebooks]

In Medium Morrows, Camellia feels so embarrassed about her duplicitous nature she can hardly make herself speak of it, but in the end, she uses it to (I'll say as best I can, without too many spoilers for an unreleased book) buy her best friends some much-needed time. The trait she was most embarrassed about was a great advantage. She doesn't overcome it, or learn that double-crossing is wrong; she uses it in a 'good' way.

In Regards, Sol imparts the lesson that running away from responsibilities for one's own benefit is sometimes the best thing to do. Sol not only gets to keep the vampirism he promised away, but he is aided in being able to keep it. He laments his selfishness but does not fundamentally believe he should have given that vampirism away like he promised to.

Sometimes I wonder just what idea someone might take away from my writing. I like to write the character arcs with what I think will be the most compelling narrative I can make for the characters, and some overall themes. While protagonists get to run in themes of the virtues of human care over detached professionalism, or being true to oneself, supporting cast members get to extol the joys of being a false flatterer to get what one wants out of people and running away from one's promises. I don't very well know what to think about this. I don't intend my characters to be unwavering examples of how to live a life, and often, the more flawed a character, the more compelling I find them to both read and write about. But, it doesn't keep me from wondering sometimes what's coming through (and I'm hoping it's not a giant light-up sign that reads I LOVE RENEGING + SYCOPHANCY IS #1! lol)

[worldsneverfilled]

Wanderers and Loss (WIP)

List of Wanderers and what has been lost/ruined in their lives, plus any major failures. DM said that it could be losing a loved one, someone being injured/disfigured, tragedies of various kinds. This won't include everything because DM has plans for some of them but this is to help me keep their stories straight for future use when I write shorts for them. I’m not done with all of them, but since it’s a temporary ref for my own use...

---

The bit of a document my character was given that talked about the Wanderers reads as follows:

The document Orestes brought gave a detailed recollection and account of all Wanderers up to Enilasor.

The title is “Ruminations on the Wanderers” and the author is unaccredited

 It opens with “Commissioned by Her Imminence, Ilsevele Nikatrix Basilea Miritaros, in the Seventy-Second year of her reign, to the honor of Malquis Boneshot, her friend and confidant, as penned by a friend to Wanderers of past generations, who wishes to remain anonymous out of reverence for the office they seek to extol”

A few things stand out to you including:

•it is written in an odd dialect. Not unrecognizable as Elvish, but in a dialect that you can’t quite place.

•The author goes into great detail on each of the Wanderers, personal and intimate detail. Bizarrely so. Almost as if the author knew each of the Wanderers personally. [asked J about my character and her mother, but the document was written about 200 years prior to the campaign and is therefore not been updated with whatever Malquis and Enilasor have lost or witnessed]

•The Wanderers are each detailed as having lost something of extreme personal significance in their lifetimes. Not just one or two of them, all of them. The author even waxes on why it seems the Wanderer has been “specially chosen to receive such punishment, despite no known action necessitating such reprisal.”

•Ecelnara is noted to have been “horribly changed by the Cataclysm of Phylandropolis” but clarified that “Wanderers seldom escape their tragedies unchanged.” But also that Ecelnara never spoke on the fall of the city, even when asked. “But the wails and desperate cries heard in the dead of night from her quarters lead only to believe that the information weighed heavy on her mind.”

The account closes with this excerpt: “The Wanderer is not a hero. She is not a savior or messiah. The Wanderer is a helper, one who takes pride in her work as one who lives to help others. No matter what tragedy she faces, nor what loss she must endure. The Wanderer remains strong in the face of adversity, maintaining that right is as right does.”

 Bolded are those our DM already has plans for. Ecelnara is a partial exception since I already know a tiny bit about her story.

Ysiad: Her twin brother the Traveler

Quiemti: DM planned information

Ecelnara: Her husband and best friend, along with the entire capital of Rasilian fell into the sea; being separated from some of her children during the Spellplague. Anything else will be something that the DM hasn't shared with me yet.

Illyanara: Swore to keep a noble's son safe on his trip through Erlkazar because of the increasing vampire and werefolk attacks, but he was killed anyway, despite her attempts to protect him. She was injured in the process and left for dead, although she managed to get to a nearby town for aid. Illyanara (and future Wanderers, technically) is not allowed to return to that nobleman's province after that, a law that has been followed since, to much confusion of the current residents.

Alleb: Her parents didn't give her the same attention and affection her grandparents did; her father, an only child, was bitter that Illyanara skipped him. Illyanara and her husband wound up taking Alleb in. She lost her parents but gained two others.

Yesor: TBA

Callornti: Lost both of her daughters and found a contact of hers that was horribly mauled by a werewolf yet still alive somehow.

Zarnith: Lost his both of his sisters and the younger of the two was the intended Wanderer for that generation; it cost him peace in his home with his husband, though they made amends later in life

Nolsara: DM planned information

Ethrine: DM planned information

Malquis: She didn’t have the best, most loving relationship with her more militant-minded mother. She had a better, softer relationship with her father, however, but that didn’t make up for what she didn’t have with her mother. She promised to not be the same to Enilasor, both as her mother and as her mentor. Ignored whispers of what was going to happen to Baldur’s Gate, something she regretted upon its fall into Avernus.

Enilasor: Unwilling participant in her mother’s murder, Arix being horribly injured in a fight against Electra and not completely healed when Enilasor tried to bring him back, watching the genocide of an entire religion, more tba probably.

[arathergrimreaper]

Thinking on what my drag name would be (if I ever bothered to do drag;i am lazyand it is expensive) and I think I have a winner...

Count Dragula.

[queen-scribbles]

Happy birthday to my favorite vampire, Felix Hauville :D

45.  comparing hand sizes, then linking fingers together [Janine/Felix] ----

“So, what do you want to do today?”

“I dunno, whadda you wanna do today?”

Janine giggled and rolled over so she was facing Felix. “Ask me that when it’s my birthday, babe. Today is your choice.”

“What if I said I wanted to do whatever you wanna do?” Felix countered with a grin, brushing hair back from her face.

“I’d say you were very sweet,” she said. Her heart fluttered because she knew he meant it. “But today being your birthday, I’m deferring to you for our plans. And I don’t think your patrols were mysteriously ‘covered’ so we could lay here all day arguing about who gets to decide what we’re doing.”

His grin got wider. “I dunno, laying in bed with you all day does sound like a pretty fantastic plan, Minty.”

“You-” Janine started to move to punch his shoulder, stopped herself, settled for a withering look with no real heat behind it. “I’ll let that slide because it’s your birthday. And you’re adorable.”

“Oh, today’s gonna be fun,” Felix laughed. “You wanna know a secret?” He ran his hand down her arm, fingers nudging hers til they uncurled.

“Mm, always,” she said lazily as they pressed their hands palm to palm and studied the contrasts; deep brown and pale cream, that annoying paper cut on the side of her finger that was taking forever to heal against his unblemished, his fingers slightly longer.

“I’m pretty sure Mason took one of my patrols,” he said, pressing his fingertips gently against hers until they curved slightly back.

“He must’ve,” Janine pointed out, mirroring the gesture until Felix let his fingers bow back. “You were supposed to have two and there’s no way Adam or Mum would’ve let Nate take them both. So Mason or Adam must’ve taken the second one. I feel like he would’ve anyway, though.” She shifted her fingers over to link between his, caressing the back of his hand. “You’re very lucky in your friends, Felix Hauville.”

“Sure am,” Felix said with a smile, curling his hand around hers as well. “And what about you?”

“Me? Tina would’ve switched if I asked, so I am lucky in that respect myself, but thanks to a minor miracle, I’m just off today. No shift swapping required.”

“I meant I’m lucky to have you, too, Janine,” he elaborated when she stopped talking. He wiggled in closer to kiss the tip of her nose.

“Oh. Well, I’ll sound narcissistic if I say yes, so...” she kissed his forehead. “If you say so.”

“Do I ever.” He let go of her hand to wrap his arm around her waist instead.  “You’re one of the best things that ever happened to me.”

“One of?” Janine teased, even as she snuggled closer, hiding her mischievous grin against his shoulder.

“Well,” Felix’s nose wrinkled. “I may not love them like I do you, but the rest of Bravo’s pretty great, too.”

“Felix, I’m joking.” She leaned back enough to meet his eyes. “I don’t mind sharing top billing, especially with them.”

“One more thing that makes you awesome,” he said with a laugh. He tucked loose hair behind her ear and his hand lingered against her jaw a moment.

She knew he could hear the racing heart that accompanied her blush. “I feel like this is rather backwards. Shouldn’t I be extolling your virtues today?”

“Hey, you asked what I wanted to do, babe,” Felix pointed out, amber eyes sparkling. “Maybe gloating that I have an awesome girlfriend is on the list.”

She couldn’t help herself. Janine pressed her forehead to his, her finger tracing light patterns against his back. “Does that come before opening presents...” Kissed him briefly, lightly. “Or after?”

Felix considered for a moment, hand sliding to the back of her neck. “How ‘bout both?” he murmured with a grin as he kissed her back more deeply.

“...works for me,” Janine mumbled against his mouth nails raking lightly up his back--just enough to tickle and make him flinch. “That’s for Minty.”

They were both laughing as they pressed into another kiss. Janine knew whatever plans they settled on for the day, it would be a good one.

Precisely what Felix deserved. ----

(Janine’s middle name is Araminta, when Felix learns that(rip) he starts occasionally calling her Minty)

[panlight]

If Bella HAD died in childbirth do you think that Edward would have hated Nessie like he claimed that he would? Or would he decide that Nessie was the only part of Bella left? Do you think that Jacob would fight the imprint more (or at all) if Bella DID die?

I honestly feel like he'd have transferred his love and devotion and "I must protect you!" stuff to Nessie.

But. . . SM seems REALLY into the "I would literally DIE without you" type of a romance. You see it in her vampire lore, you see it in imprinting, you see it in the Romeo-and-Juliet miscommunication that drives the climax of New Moon. There's this thread throughout the books that it's not REAL love if you could carry on after losing this person. Or, if you can carry on, it's only because supernatural means are forcing you (Marcus) or it's to get revenge (Victoria, Maria, the Romanians, etc). So I'm not entirely sure she wouldn't go for a true Romeo and Juliet ending here, especially since E/B are planning to die in battle if the other one dies rather than try to, you know, LIVE so their miracle daughter doesn't lose both parents at three and a half months old. And that's after Edward's fully come around to the idea of Renesmee and loves her 'reverently.'

To me, though, Edward is sentimental enough that once he holds this child he's not going to be able to actually hate it. He's going to hate himself for getting Bella pregnant and killing her. That's his jam. It would probably be something like "it was Bella's last wish that our daughter be born, and so I will continue to live in order to raise her and protect her but when she dies someday I will join Bella in Death." But then, whoops, Nessie seems to be immortal, so Edward's sticking around permanently. And he'd be worshipful and overprotective and "this is the last piece of my Bella" and there would be like some photo or portrait of Bella that he would stand in front of with Nessie and extoll her praises and it would be A Lot but he'd love Nessie and continue on.

Meanwhile Rosalie is like "well I mean I GUESS I'm glad Edward's not flinging himself into a volcano but it does put a damper on me getting to raise this baby myself."

Which is another thing: if Edward were to go back to Volterra and beg for death, I can't see him leaving the baby with ROSALIE to raise. He'd entrust that baby to Esme and Carlisle, obviously.

As for Jacob, I still stand by my oft repeated statement that I thought, GENUINELY THOUGHT, as someone who has read a lot of books, that the WHOLE POINT of imprinting was that Jacob, grandson of Ephraim Black, would fight it. That it was all set up as device to demonstrate the importance of Free Will, that Jacob fighting an imprint would be the thematic parallel to the Cullens fighting the thirst for human blood, that there is always a choice even when it feels like there's not, etc etc. And then, um, Breaking Dawn happened and I was like what. WHAT?!

(And I 100000% believe that if he had imprinted on anyone in New Moon or Eclipse, SM would have written him rejecting the imprint somehow in favor of his Love For Bella. C'mon you KNOW she would!)

So yeah, I'd like to think that Bella's death might be enough of a catalyst to Jacob to fight the imprint. But written by SM . . . doubt it, as she clearly sees this as a happy ending for him (HOW?!) and like, a 'reward' and not the absolute last thing that a Jacob with free will would have chosen. It was BELLA's dream to spend eternity with Edward/the Cullens as an immortal. It VERY MUCH was not Jacob's and that's essentially what's going to happen, as Nessie is apparently immortal and Jacob can live forever so long as he keeps phasing. Yikes and double yikes.

[thevampireauthoress]

4, 11, 12, and 24!!

Thanks for the asks fren 💕

4. Which cryptid do you believe in?

Nessie. Nessie is real but not in the way we think. I think Nessie is the ghost of a dinosaur. I think many of the photos of her were staged, but I do believe she exists on some level.

This is not technically believing in the cryptid story wholesale, but I think I've made my case enough.

11. Favourite extra-curricular activity?

Ahh jeez, do you have to out me as a sword obsessive, a theatre kid and a horse girl all at once?

I really can't choose.

I love horse riding for the absolute freedom. Galloping is THE most fun you will ever have. Point blank.

Yet, theatre is a totally different kind of freedom, you can slough off your everyday life and become someone else. There is no other feeling like seeing the stars after a performance, it's electric.

Sword fighting you get to hit people and they get to hit you and it's all fun and you get to extoll the virtues of your favourite weapon over theirs and vice versa.

12. What kind of day is it?

A day where you make lemonade at midnight XD

24. If we were together on a rooftop, what would we be doing?

We would be watching the stars, and drinking the lemonade I just made. We would take it in turns to ramble about things, mostly WoW, LoZ and DMC for you I imagine, vampires, Dead Poet's Society and St Trinian's for me... Until our conversation got sidetracked, of course XD

I kinda just imagine it would be like the group chat, it has the same sort of feel.

[bandstolookup]

freddie gibbs

hop along

vulfpeck

annie mac

sean buckley

the dryes

robbie jude

nghtmre

broken social scene

gojira

blind guardian

Courtney love

children of bodom

misery falls

dissection

as I lay dying

no body count

maleviolent creation

carnifex

tori Amos

the growlers

angelcorpse

piglet

at the gates

necrophobic

monstrosity

Royal blood

thrice

stone sour

Chris Cornell

I prevail

ORVNGE

backyard babies

baest

belzebubs

beneath the massacre

bewitcher

black crown initiate

bleed from within

blood incantation

body count

bombus

bonded

black cross

borknagar

buckcherry

caliban

coroner

dark fortress

dark funeral

dark tranquility

dead lord

death alley

deathrite

deez nuts

deicide

demons & wizards

deserted fear

dr living dead!

dream evil

entombed a.d.

eskimo callboy

ether coven

finntroll

firespawn

four seconds ago

fozzy

frozen soul

gemini syndrome

glassjaw

gost

grave

grave pleasures

hank von hell

havok

heaven shall burn

hideous divinity

horisont

iced earth

ignite

imperial triumphant

implore

insomnium

jeff loomis

jon schaffer's purgatory

krisiun

lacuna coil

like a storm

lorna shore

lucifer

mad sin

malevolent creation

man with a mission

marduk

martyrdöd

mass worship

misasmal

monuments

moonsorrow

morgoth

naglfar

nasty

necrophobic

nevermore

new years day

night demon

oceans of slumber

omnium gatherum

orphaned land

painted wives

periphery

queensryche

radio moscow

radkey

red death

rogers

sanctuary

savage messiah

sick of it all

skeletal remains

soulburn

spirit adrfit

stitched up heart

street dogs

svart crown

swallow the sun

the alligator wine

the haunted

the lurking fear

the offering

the picturebooks

tribulation

triptykon

triumph of death

tronos

turisas

ultha

unanimated

vampire

vildhjarta

vitriol

voivod

warrel dane

watain

wiegedood

wilderun

wilson

witchery

witherfall

witherscape

wolf

zsk

9electric

amulet

angel dust

arkaea

armageddon

awaken the empire

barren earth

black temple

blessed by a broken heart

bloodbath

celtic frost

ceremonial oath

chaosbreed

cronian

crowbar

cryptopsy

daath

darkest hour

dead soul

death wolf

demolition hammer

despised icon

devian

devil sold his soul

diecast

earth crisis

enabler

evocation

extol

ghosts of the sun

eyes of eden

fear my thoughts

flowing tears

fu manchu

girl on fire

god forbid

gorguts

grand supreme blood court

hang the bastard

heart of a coward

hellhammer

high on fire

himsa

i am heresy

impaled

in this moment

ingested

insidious disease

into eternity

the flood

intronaut

ion dissonance

jag panzer

jasta

death won't hold

dread engine

karyn crisis' gospel of the witches

denzel curry

goody grace

father john misty

atimera

chase atlantic

vonne

rhye

saib.

starset

nothing more

converge

trivium

dying fetus

tom's story

body count

zeal & ardor

power trip

leprous

the contortionist

lunatic soul

soen

ne obliviscartis

the word alive

pallbearer

code orange

immolation

tye Trujillo

stone temple pilots

him

the Dillinger escape plan

decapitated

10 years

frenzal rhomb

afi

gone is gone

Royal thunder

bell witch

reynols

enslaved

blackfield

fredo santana

underøath

black anvil

black widow

kda

black witchery

the xcerts

black tongue

the faim

petrol girls

joan Jett and the blackhearts

flea

trophy eyes

bicep live

meat loaf

royal republic

Scott sapp

vesperteen

Whitney Houston

black marble

slash

la dispute

Roseanne Barr

kölsch

lord belial

the quill

testament

eleventh hour

arch enemy

destruction

solitude aeturnus

damnocracy

biohazard

rock star supernova

elderbrook

lou reed

contraband

l.a. guns

vixen

pride & glory

slash's snakepit

Alice in chains

the cult

another animal

ugly kid joe

against all will

puddle of mudd

shadow child

superheavy

Mick Jagger

joss stone

Damian Marley

brides of destruction

amen

tinted windows

Hanson

sepultura

the cardigans

melvins

ulver

type o negative

tenacious d

ond tro

paal nilssen-love's brazil funk improv

silencer

shining

Rob halford

Maria brink

lizzy hale

women of Rock

yuto miyazawa

Aidan fisher

brian lindsay

dead cross

machine head

ben harper & the innocent criminals

ray lamontagne

george clinton & parliament funkadelic

snarky puppy

kasey chambers

st. paul & the broken bones

nahko and medicine for the people

tommy emanuel

colin hay

arlo guthrie

keb' mo'

tex perkins

richard clapton

russell morris

kurt vile & the violators

vintage trouble

the black sorrows

the california honeydrops

trevor hall

i'm with her

larkin poe

irish mythen

elephant sessions

[imaginearyparties]

☀️ haha uwu (mwah i love u hope you're doing okay beloved <33)

AL MY ABHORRED

I could extoll the virtues of your writing until I'm blue in the face. It's so poetic and evocative and brilliant and makes me kinda mad because I'm upset that I know you??? Like, I feel like I don't have the right to know someone with that much talent.

Also, you're so funny and kind and passionate. Our little chats about like, the emotional damage of our vampire faves have really illustrated just how deeply thoughtful you are, and you've definitely softened my opinions on some characters (read: Kai Parker).

I appreciate how much you've been supportive of me. I know we bonded a little bit over feeling like we didn't write the same kind of fic as our more successful blogger peers, and I really want to commend you on the courage and dedication it takes to write fics you know won't necessarily do well for the pure enjoyment of them. I think in general you're stronger and braver than you know yourself to be.

You're a gem and I'm very lucky to know you, pal.

[baldwin-montclair]

Baldwin’s Nightingale (Part 15)

Characters: Baldwin Montclair/OC

Timeframe: After the S1 Finale, TV Show canon MOSTLY with some S2, Shadow of Night and Book of Life.

Summary: The big day arrives and Alisha finds that the normal wedding jitters may well be justified.

Tag requests: @christi14 @poemfreak306 @pookie-cleary @hofficoffi @stormyheart326 @theshiningc @wonderlander594 @madamquacklemore @thereadersmuse @ateliefloresdaprimavera

The Story So Far

___

The morning had been such a rush of activity and getting ready, Alisha had barely time to panic. Standing in the vestibule of the chapel, waiting, she felt the slowly creeping panic start to set in.

“Woah, some grip!” Nathaniel chuckled at the hold she had on his arm.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Alisha gave him a sheepish look.

“I was kidding,” he assured, giving her hand a comforting pat, “but I can still get you a fake passport and a flight away from here and Montclair if you’ve changed your mind.”

“I haven’t, but thank you,” she took a deep breath, “it’s just stupid performance nerves.”

“You’re a musician.”

“And if all I had to do was play music for everyone in there I’d be fine, public speaking on the other hand.”

The combination of wedding jitters, sneering sisters-in-law, missing Baldwin and whatever was happening with her sudden ability to read Latin had created a constant noise in her mind that she could not quieten.

Their musical cue started up and Alisha took a shaky breath. Nathaniel put his hand over hers on his arm to steady her.

“I can do this.” She whispered to herself as the inner doors opened, revealing her path to the altar and Baldwin, facing away from her as tradition dictated and she could see the tense set of his shoulders.

Gallowglass stood to his side, not bound by the same rule and gave her a smile and an understated bow.

As she grew closer to Baldwin, she noted that his posture softened slightly, still to attention as a soldier but without the tense rigidity.

He had clearly caught her scent.

Still, he didn’t move to look at her when Nathaniel delivered her to his side and took his seat beside Sophie, holding a sleeping Margaret in her arms.

Ysabeau had warned Alisha what to expect. Baldwin’s role in the ceremony was to be as stone-like and stoic as a king and given the separation coupled with the mating bond, his control was most likely severely frayed.

As soon as she placed her hand in his, however, he subtly brushed his thumb across her knuckles. A gesture he’d granted beyond the propriety expected.

The endless swirl of questions and worries seemed to lift from her mind and the nerves he’d sensed were quelled by his decision to put her comfort above maintaining his stony facade.

As soon as the priest began, she knew that her reading proficiency with Latin also extended to the spoken language as well.

She realised that if she focused on the words individually, she had no idea what was being said. Similar to seeing past the script of the letter to the meaning, there seemed to be a connection in her mind she was not aware of, something was translating meaning for her, deciphering unfamiliar collections of letters into...not even English, just understanding.

It terrified her.

Still, she held it together, barely, until the exchanging of rings, and vows, her contribution to the ceremony and tried not to feel too alarmed at the impressed look Baldwin gave her at her recitation of the vows that just the previous night Ysabeau had called ‘sufficient’.

Their kiss was chaste and brief, much less than she needed but definitely more appropriate for the setting and the company.

This was made up for when they arrived at Sept-Tour and he pulled her into a hidden alcove away from the eyes of servants and arriving guests.

It confirmed for Alisha that the restrained contact in the church had been as trying for him as it had been for her.

“My beautiful, brave little nightingale,” he regarded her with a mixture of wonder and admiration when he released her from his kiss.

“Brave?” She questioned breathlessly.

“I know that was not easy for you.”

“Or you,” she reminded, “but it’s done.”

“Still, I am sorry for leaving you here, I would not have done so had it been avoidable.”

“I know,” she gave a reassuring smile and leant up to kiss him again, “ but I did miss you.”

“As did I you, sweetheart,” he sighed, touching his forehead to hers “a few more hours and I’ll have you to myself!”

The last statement seemed more of a reassurance to himself.

“We’ll manage,” she gave him a mischievous look, “and I have a surprise for you, for later.”

“A surprise?” He cocked his head to the side, a look of amusement in his eyes.

“We should go join our wedding celebrations,” she grinned, attempting to make it past him.

Just as she almost made it, she felt his arm slide around her waist and she was pulled against him, her back firmly pressed against his chest.

“Baldwin,” she attempted to reason, as much with herself as him as his lips grazed the skin of her neck, just over her pulse, “this place is full of vampires, and they will be looking for us!”

“I know,” he murmured, “but I have been too long without you and your scent, right here,” he lightly nudged a spot behind her ear with the tip of his nose, “is making it very difficult to care about being discovered.”

“Did the favour not work?” She asked, unable to keep the disappointment in her voice.

“Of course it worked, no one was flayed or dismembered.”

“That’s a relief!”

“Regardless, you will not be far enough from my side for the foreseeable future for that to be a problem.”

“But first,” she tilted her face to look at him, “we still have our wedding reception to get through, then I am all yours!”

“My darling,” he leant down and gently pressed his lips to hers, cupping her face in his hand, “once this is over and we are indeed alone, you will be left in no doubt that you are, in fact, mine!”

The possessiveness of his words made her breath hitch, not helped by the brush of his thumb across her bottom lip and she drew in a shaky breath.

“Guests, vampires, super senses.” She reminded.

The quiet growl of frustration told her he knew she was right.

“As you wish, Madame de Clermont.”

As soon as they emerged, Baldwin stopped and surveyed the room, sensing something.

“Miyako,” he called out to a beautiful - and departing - woman in her mid-twenties, or, she appeared to be.

She stopped and turned back.

“Otōsan,” Baldwin’s daughter gave him a respectful bow.

“Cara,” he smiled, greeting her in the french double cheek kiss tradition, “I am very pleased to see you.”

It was the most unguardedly affectionate she’d seen him act towards a member of his family and it made Alisha’s heart swell.

“I apologise for missing the ceremony, there were,” Miyako paused, “complications.”

Her gaze drifted over Alisha.

“I suppose it is time you were both introduced to one another,” Baldwin admitted with some reticence, “Miyako, this is my wife, Alisha, meet my daughter.”

“Madame.” Miyako bowed.

The greeting was polite, respectful, not cold or passively hostile, as the ones she received from Stasia and Verin.

“Miyako,” Alisha smiled, “it’s great to meet you, Baldwin has such high praise for you.”

“Oh?”

The faintest hint of amusement flickered in the young woman’s eyes as both she and Alisha turned their attention on Baldwin.

“I may have extolled your considerable skill in combat.” He responded, feeling decidedly outnumbered.

“Thank you Papa,” she accepted gracefully, “although much of my ability is as a result of your instruction.”

“Much?” He challenged with good-natured outrage.

“There is something I must discuss with you, but it can keep for a day.” Miyako started, carefully, glancing in Alisha’s direction then back to her father.

“You should both catch up,” Alisha suggested, extricating herself to give them the privacy she sensed Miyako was requesting, “we won’t be needed for some time yet.”

Baldwin looked between his daughter and wife and gave a nod in agreement.

“My office Mimi, I’ll be there in a moment.”

“Otōsan,” she gave him the same head bow and turned her gaze on Alisha, “thank you Madame.”

Alisha wanted to ask the vampire to simply call her by her name, as she had with Christina, but the minefield of vampire customs was still unfamiliar.

She decided that she would ask Baldwin later, if that was appropriate.

“I’m sorry,” Alisha smiled after Miyako left, “that was frickin’ adorable!”

“What was?”

“You! I knew it, total Papa Bear type,” she teased, ignoring his weary sigh, “and it shouldn’t be possible but I think I love you even more now.” She smoothed down his tie.

“Possible or not,” he covered her hand with his on his chest, “I am glad I exceeded your expectations.”

Alisha glanced around the room, realising there was someone missing.

“I don’t see Christina, did you ask her?”

“Of course I did but she declined the invitation, didn’t specify why.”

Alisha frowned before her eyes grew wide.

“Stop,” Baldwin shook his head, placing his hands on her upper arms, “you’re going straight to worry and its not necessary, she’s fine.”

She nodded at his words but her expression was still troubled.

“Alisha, I spoke to her myself yesterday, it was obviously a private matter I wasn’t about to pry into it. Trust me, she’s fine.”

At Baldwin’s words she let out a small exhale of relief.

“Sorry,” she rolled her eyes at herself, “bit of an overreaction.”

“Not at all,” he assured, “I find the fact that you care so much endlessly endearing.”

He pressed a tender kiss to her temple before following after Miyako.

“You met my niece.” Verin stated, making Alisha jump.

“Yes, she seems to be a very competent and self-sufficient young woman.” Alisha answered with confidence.

The first meeting with her step-daughter had gone well and she was not going to allow Verin to spoil that.

“She’s over four hundred, I would be careful not to patronise, given your age.”

“I love your brother, Verin, is that not enough for you?” Alisha asked pointedly.

“No,” she shrugged, “he protects us from all threats and he does so by ruthlessly destroying our enemies. You have bleeding heart written all over you and we cannot afford to show mercy!”

“You think I will stop him acting in the best interests of our family?”

Verin laughed at this but it was a cold, hollow sound.

“Our family is it now?”

“It is, considering the fact that Baldwin saw me fit to join it!”

“Bringing you into the family is the kind of joke I’d imagine someone with his lack of a sense of humour to make!”

“He has a sense of humour!”

“You believe you know him better than I do,” she rolled her eyes, “next you’ll tell me that he can perceive sarcasm!”

“Oh, he can, much better than he seems to,” Alisha argued, “but I wouldn’t worry if you’ve said something in the past you thought you got away with. I’m sure he doesn’t hold grudges.” Alisha noted Nathaniel waving her over to him and Sophie.

“Excuse me, sister!” She gave the vampire her sweetest smile and left to join the witches and other daemons.

Freyja caught her on the way, her expression urgent.

“If you’re going to bait Verin, do not then turn your back on her,” she nodded behind Alisha, “he won’t be there every time.”

Alisha turned to see Gallowglass stand in Verin’s way.

“She started it!” Alisha argued.

“And she could quite easily end it!”

“Would she?”

”Most likely not,” Freyja glanced again at her sister, “but do you wish to test that?”

Alisha shook her head.

“Good,” Freyja gestured to the daemons Alisha was headed for, “go, have fun and smile. I’ll have a talk with my sister!”

Alisha watched Verin stalk off with Freyja following after, Ernst was deep in conversation with Em and Sarah and hadn’t noticed the exchange, most likely used to the family drama.

Baldwin found Miyako in his father’s study, seated in front of the desk, a position he once held but now he was expected on the other side, in Philippe’s chair.

“I cannot locate her, the vampire, Christina Lewis.” Miyako told him as he took his chair.

“Fuck,” he swore after a moment, “where does the trail end?”

“London but I have not yet been able to conduct my own investigation on the ground there yet, I shall go tomorrow-”

“No,” Baldwin replied sharply, “whoever is behind this will not get you too.”

“Were you not convinced that Gerbert was to blame, he is after Madame de Clermont?”

“You can call her Alisha, I know she’d prefer that,” he sighed, “and I believed he was but his purchase of the third fresco property in Venice was simply a means to thwart Knox. Their alliance was always on a shaky ground and when it’s purpose to destroy me failed, so did the ceasefire. Gerbert only acquired the property after Knox showed interest in it.”

“But Guillermo was his creature, was he not?”

“He had no loyalty to anyone but Gerbert did often use him, paying Guillermo handsomely for the service. He was clearly working for someone else when he killed Michael and went after Alisha.”

“Knox?”

“More likely, which is why I want you nowhere near it.”

“If I cannot handle a witch then you did not instruct me well enough.”

“I am in no mood for games cara,” he warned, “if Knox were to harm you I would have to kill him, then how would the congregation stand with the vampires and witches at war?”

“Of course I will not act against your wishes,” she acceded, “but we still do not know the significance of the daemon’s research?”

“We won’t until we look at the drive.”

“You haven’t looked at the data yet?”

“It’s not my place.”

“Papa-“

“Miyako,” he stated in a low tone that invited no prodding, “we have more pressing issues to deal with than the obsessive ramblings of an art historian, finding Christina and-“

“Discovering who killed the orchestra master?”

“Yes.” He sighed.

“Does she know?”

“It’s her wedding day, I think breaking the news that her boss is dead, can wait.”

“Brian Cassidy was found drained two nights ago.”

“I’m aware of the timeline.”

“You are keeping a lot of secrets from your wife.”

“Love, honour and protect, those were my vows. There was nothing in there about full disclosure.” He stated plainly as Gallowglass appeared at the door.

“We have a problem.”

“That seems to be the theme of this day.” Miyako rolled her eyes.

“What is it?” Baldwin asked, shooting a warning look at his daughter.

“One of our tenants, found dead, drained. There’s an intruder on our property.”

Baldwin rose to his feet and left the room, with the expectation that his daughter and nephew follow.

They did.

“Who found him?” He asked as he made his way to the main hall.

“His son, poor bairn’s only seventeen, thought the old man got drunk and lost, told his mother he’d clean him up for the reception. She was at the wedding, he’s in the hall, had to tell his mother her husband wasn’t coming home.”

“Are all our other tenants accounted for?” Baldwin asked bluntly, the commander emerging.

“They’re all in attendance for the reception.”

“Good, then we’re in lockdown, nobody in or out.”

“So we’re hunting?” Gallowglass asked.

“You, me, Freyja, Verin and Stasia will neutralise the threat. Marcus will stay here in case medical treatment is necessary.”

“I can-“ Miyako started.

“You and Alisha will also stay within the walls of Sept Tours.”

“With Ysabeau?” Miyako snorted derisively.

“Yes, with Ysabeau, if she’s within these walls, no-one is getting in!”

Baldwin often surprised Gallowglass, every century or so, with his praise for his step-mother.

“Yes Papa.” Miyako relented, recognising the tone.

“I want everyone ready to go in the next five minutes.” Baldwin ordered Gallowglass and left before receiving an answer.

“Eric, who’d be stupid enough to try this?” Miyako shook her head.

“No idea, but I know that look,” he nodded to the direction Baldwin left, “we’re about to find out.”

Alisha stood when the door to their quarters opened and Baldwin looked up to see her. In the blink of an eye she was in his arms.

“Duty calls, I’m sor-” He started.

She stopped his words with a kiss.

“Don’t apologise, just come back to me.”

“I will.” He promised, pressing a kiss against her temple as he often did, before breaking the contact to retrieve his sword, a gladius, a weapon she recognised from some of Michael’s works.

“Didn’t think vampires used weapons.”

“Old habits die hard.” He explained.

“Then take this.”

Baldwin watched with stunned interest as she lifted the skirts of the dress to her thigh and removed the favour she had worn as a garter.

He placed the sword on the table and took the embroidered fabric from her outstretched hand, only breaking their gaze to read the words embroidered there.

“Bound by my heart to your will,” he recited before looking back up at her, “do you mean this?”

“More now than when I made it.”

“Good,” he exhaled slightly, seemingly expecting a fight from her regarding his orders, “then stay in the fortress, do as Ysabeau says, she will keep you safe. Tell me you understand.” He demanded, wrapping the material of the favour in a spool around his fingers before placing it safely inside his pocket.

“I understand.” She confirmed.

“And?”

“I’ll do as you say, as my lord, my husband,” she lifted the scabbard containing his weapon and held it with both hands, presenting it with a bow of her head, “and head of my family.”

Baldwin took the weapon, deciding that he was going to make the intruder suffer twice as much for keeping him from her for even a second.

“Do not stay in these rooms, it is important to me that you are not alone. Let the people see you, as my representative, speak to them and, if you can, play for them. It always made me feel better and it will help you.”

“Help me?”

“You’re brave but your heart is beating like a drum. You’re afraid but have no reason to be, this is your home now, you are safe here.”

“I know I am, and I know you will be fine too, but worry isn’t logical. When you’re back and safe, I’ll be satisfied.”

“When I return, your satisfaction will be my one goal and responsibility.”

One last kiss and he was gone, leaving her to gather nerves and return to the guests and friends.

———

PART 16

[secret-diary-of-an-fa]

The End of Year Awards Are Back... and This Time, It’s Personal!

And so we approach the end of 2020, the year that never really began. On paper, at least, it looked incredibly promising. There were lots of great movies slated to come out; culture seemed slightly less paucity-riddled and pointless than usual; good things were in the air. Then COVID happened, and basically fucked everything. Actually, that’s not quite true: my personal year has been fucking spectacular. I’m in a long-term relationship with a gorgeous woman for the first time in forever- no more abrupt trysts and stolen moments for yer humble narrator: I’ve got a sumptuously plus-size lady-friend who actually wants to spend substantial amounts of time me (and has knockers you could sled down, were you so inclined). I also started a Youtube channel where I upload performances of magic tricks I’ve designed and a few people seem to quite like it. Oh, and I’ve written four novels, with a fifth well on its way to completion. Unfortunately, that’s my life, not the life of our civilisation and culture as a whole. The fact that bugger all happened in that makes this end-of-year round-up a little hard to write. With that in mind, I’m going to hand out the gongs for 2020, but I’m also going to do my usual dodge of giving end-of-year awards to things that I discovered in 2020, even if they came out the year, decade or century before. It’s not like any right-minded person gives a hoot about my opinion anyway. Right then, everyone clear on the rules? Then let’s roll up our sleeves and plunge elbow deep into the fetid trough of our decaying society to ferret out the best and worst of the Things That Humans Have Done Recently.

The ‘I Like It Because It Confused Thick People’ Award for Best High-Concept Sci-Fi Movie... … Goes to the sterling Tenet, a spy film that used entropy inversion and symmetric, opposite-direction timelines within the same physical space the way most spy films use hacking and guns. Christopher Nolan films are always intricately constructed and meticulously-executed, but this one must have had Japanese Master Puzzle-Box Makers crying into their breakfast cereal. Is breakfast cereal a thing in Japan? I honestly I have no idea. For some reason, all I can imagine is a sort of dry kedgeree where all the ingredients that aren’t rice have been removed. But I digress. For all its intricacy, Tenet is actually really easy to follow once you’ve grasped the basic premise that there’s a machine that lets people move backwards through time, and that this makes them appear to move in reverse to the rest of the world while they perceive the rest of the world as moving in reverse. Nolan maintains a mastery of cinematic visual language that makes even the most abstruse concept easy to wrap your head around. Nonetheless, following Tenet’s release, dumb people took to the Internet on mass to complain that the film was confusing and stupid, never once realising that their inability to conceptualise time in non-linear ways was their own failing, not Nolan’s. I find that refreshing. It’s nice to see a sci-fi film that’s actually made for smart-cookie sci-fi fans and doesn’t give a hoot if it alienate thickos.

The Award for Most Inexplicably Compelling Web Comic… … Goes to Questionable Content. I originally started reading Questionable Content because I’d heard that the female lead and love interest was a plus size lassie and that shit’s my jam. However, the art style makes everyone look like a skinny indie-type, regardless of their actual, in-universe size, so it doesn’t do much to titillate my Fat Admiring Titillation Centres. And yet, I’m over five hundred ‘episodes’ in and still reading. The thing is, I couldn’t tell you why for the life of me. Maybe it’s the hope that the art style will evolve to the point where the people look like actual human beings with different body types (but then, why would I care unless I was invested for some other reason). Maybe it’s the fact that when I get one of the many, many obscure band or pop culture references, I feel a little buzz of kinship with the writer. Maybe it’s the fact that it takes place in a universe where robots and superheroes are things that regularly happen, yet most of the strips are just normal people chatting shit in a coffee shop and the slice-of-life narrative/sci-fi setting appeals to my sense of juxtaposition. I don’t know, but I find it really compelling to the extent that I’ve pissed away entire days reading it. I have a horrible feeling that it’s a short step from this to really angsty hentai. If I start singing the praises of that, somebody please shoot me in the crotch.

The ‘Forest Gump Debating Peter Andre’ Award For Most Sustained or Elongated Instance of Stupidity… … Goes to Donald Trump. I was tempted just to award this gong to his entire presidency, but that wasn’t just stupid: it was also venal, corrupt, horrifying and punctuated by terrible moments of low cunning. So, instead, this award goes to his ‘soup’ rant. For those of you who missed it, the former President of the United States spent a really, really long time (in the run-up to the election) wittering on about protestors throwing cans of soup at police. What was dumb and weird about it was that he appeared to be extolling the virtues of soup as a siege weapon, going into really specific detail about how it was better than a brick because it could be thrown with more force, finishing with the utterance that protestors would just argue that “this is just soup for my family” if they were caught with the cans… which is phrased wrong in such a subtle and inhuman way it’s hard to imagine that anyone actually ever said it, at least in those words. I have no idea if protestors in America were throwing soup cans at police (which would be entirely justified considering how many innocent people American police have murdered in cold blood quite recently) or if this was a fantasy dreamed up by the former president in the cloudcuckooland that is his diseased little brain. Either way, the connected rant was balls deep in dumb.

The Most Disturbing Unintentional Impression of Vincent Price Award… … Goes to the narrator from One Step Beyond, a Twilight Zone-esque anthology of weirdness that purports to be based on true events and has to be seen to be believed. The stories are oft-disturbing instances of spooky-inflected human drama and can occasionally be quite disconcerting… until they’re book-ended by a dude who sounds like Vincent Price reading a children’s book in a really earnest voice. It’s weird and no, it didn’t hit our screens in Space Year 2020, it dates back to Ye Olden Times of the 1950s or 60s, when men were men, women were women and technincolour was a distant dream that could get you strung up for witchcraft. Nonetheless, I only encountered it this year, so it’s getting its prize. I warned you I was going to pull this shit, but you foolish fools didn’t listen.

The ‘It’s Not Gay If I Don’t Clench’ Award for Cognitive Dissonance… … Goes to Amazon Prime, the content-making branch of evil, tax-dodging, anti-monopoly-law-breaking megalith Amazon. You see, while Big Daddy Amazon is off being incredibly sinister and worrying, like a shifty vampire hanging off the economy’s throat, the creative people at Amazon Prime are busy making or acquiring some of the flat-out best TV ever committed to a streaming-service, from the extra-weird slice of fun-pie that is The Tick, to the entertainingly horrifying cultural dissection of The Boys to the utterly unique Carnival Row, to the superbly adapted American Gods. It’s a bit like discovering that Geoffrey Dahlmer single-handedly created a body of artistic work to rival Vincent Van Gogh’s when he wasn’t pouring acid onto the brains of emotionally vulnerable young adults. It gives me a headache.

The Clint Eastwood Award for Most Effective Older Gentlemen… … Goes to Joe Biden, for unseating dipshit in chief Donald Trump with the casual badassery of a Wild West gunslinger shooting a baddy (probably played by Leonardo Di Caprio) in the balls. I mean, he’s not the best Prez America could ask for but a) as a Brit I don’t have to care and b) anyone who ousts Trump gets mad props from me.

The ‘It’s a Pity Everything Else is Shit Now’ Award for Best New Ongoing Series… … Goes to my own Youtube series, Victor The Magician, in which I claim to be a reality-hopping, interdimensional wizard on an endless quest to… perform magic, basically. I’ll admit that the quality is super-variable (Youtube algorithms and their constant demand for fresh content be a harsh mistress, etc., etc.). However, when I’m good, I’m really good. If you’re looking for a punch-line other than the fact that this whole bit is a self-promoting plug, it’s this: my Youtube series really was the best thing to come out this year. Not because I’m great or anything, just by default. A promising year really did turn into a cultural wasteland the moment COVIDius Rex reared its scaly head.

The Zombie Ian Curtis Award for Most Crushing Disappointment… … Goes to Rick and Morty Series 4. As I think I’ve said before, it was still good, but it just didn’t reach the dizzy heights of nihilistic lunacy achieved in series 1-3. I think the problem is that the audience is meant to learn something from Rick’s poor choices, even if he doesn’t, because the creators saw the amazing success of Bojack Horseman and decided they wanted a slice of that sweet, tangy deconstructionist pie. It worked up to a point in the climax of Series 3, but having made their point, the showrunners probably should have moved onto a different point. They forgot that the appeal of Rick Sanchez is his combination of ‘entertaining car-crash of a human being’ and ‘unstoppable superbeing’. Push him through an arc and you risk breaking the thing that makes him and the show so endlessly watchable. Rick, unlike Bojack, just wasn’t built for heavy introspection. Also, the team hired on new writers who were less than familiar with the characters, setting and subtext, and that’s always an invitation to disaster.

The Special Sir Mixalot Award for Posteriority… ...Goes to… my girlfriend and glamorous assistant, Mystic Miss Terri, who’s arse is gorgeous and majestic.

The ‘Are They STILL Making That?’ Award for a Show You Forgot Existed And is Now Back… … Goes to Supernatural, which never technically went away and whose final series is apparently being broadcast on one of the 4 channels (though who knows which one, any more), It’s kind of nice to realise it’s still out there and be reminded that there are still people who care deeply about what happens to it. It’s like when you remember ‘oh yeah, [insert cute animal here] actually exists and isn’t just an internet meme. That’s nice’. Also, it’s good to see Jared Padelacki working steadily. It can’t be easy to find acting gigs when most producers just want to shoot you and mount your antlers over a fireplace.

The Irritating Magician Award for Something That Just Won’t Fuck Off… ...Goes to this blog entry, which is three pages long in Word. Good grief. Bye y’all! See you next year, assuming that the last few days of 2020 don’t culminate in a civilisation-destroying attack by giant space-ants. If that seems worryingly specific, let’s just say that- as Leonard Cohen would say “I’ve seen the future and, brother, it is murder”… by giant space-ants.

[yastaghr]

Kinktober 2019: Day 17

Pairing: Classic Fontcest

Kinks: Body Worship, Blood Play, Vampire AU, BDSM, Oral Sex

Warnings: None

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20851682/chapters/51227248

“SANS, MY DEAREST, WOULD YOU INDULGE ME IN A SCENE TONIGHT?” Papyrus asked languidly.

The vampire watched with pleasure as his darling Sans looked up from the newspaper he was reading. His first expression was of confusion, probably at why he was no longer reading. Then there was that dopey smile that Sans always got when he thought about him now. Then it settled into a more placid expression. “i’d love to, papyrus. what were you thinking of doing to me tonight?”

Papyrus smiled, flashing his elongated canines in the firelight. “WELL, MY DARLING SANS, APART FROM THE OBVIOUS FEEDING-”

“-of course-” Sans said with a smile.

“-I WAS PLANNING ON WORSHIPPING YOU. I WILL STRIP YOU DOWN LAYER BY LAYER AND SING THE PRAISES OF EACH AND EVERY PART OF YOU THAT IS REVEALED. I SEE YOUR BLUSH, NYEH HEH HEH. I TAKE IT YOU LIKE THE IDEA?” Papyrus felt so proud of himself for coming up with it.

Sans, who was by now glowing bright blue from behind the shield of his newspaper, squeaked, “you’re going to do what now? isn’t that i-i-illegal? i mean, i know a lot of what you do  is illegal, just because you’re a v-v-vampire, but...i suppose this is more blasphemous than illegal...and neither of us are christians, so i suppose it really doesn’t matter.”

Papyrus laughed. “I’M NOT INTENDING TO SET UP AN ALTER TO IT. I’M JUST GOING TO PRAISE AND EXTOLL THE BEAUTY OF EVERY PART OF YOU AS THEY PROPERLY DESERVE. UNLESS YOU WANT AN ALTER TO YOUR HEAVENLY BODY. DO YOU?”

Sans quickly shook his head, blushing furiously. “no thank you, i am very much good as i am, thank you.”

“DID I EVER TELL YOU YOU’RE CUTE WHEN YOU’RE FLUSTERED?” Papyrus asked, “BECAUSE IT IS MOST CERTAINLY TRUE.”

Sans’ skull sunk into the folds of his smoking jacket in much the same way that an ostrich’s head buries itself in the sand. “are we doing this now? i thought we were doing this later tonight. i’m not prepared for it just yet.”

“THAT’S NOT OUR SAFEWORD. DO YOU REALLY WANT OUT, OR ARE YOU JUST NERVOUS, MY DEAREST SANS?” Papyrus asked astutely.

Sans sighed and gave him the ‘why are you asking me this question when you already know the answer you sneaky vampire’ look. It was a look he used on Papyrus quite often. As always, Papyrus elected to ignore it.

“just nervous,” Sans admitted with a sigh. “i’m not used to getting compliments about my body.”

Papyrus’ face softened. “I KNOW. THAT IS PART OF WHY I WISH TO DO THIS WITH YOU. YOU DESERVE TO HAVE SO MUCH MORE CONFIDENCE IN YOUR BODY THAN YOU ALREADY DO. THIS IS JUST A TOOL TO HELP THAT A LITTLE BIT. IT’S ALSO AN ABSOLUTE PLEASURE, SO DON’T EVEN START TO FEEL GUILTY THAT I’M ONLY DOING THIS BECAUSE OF YOU. PRAISING OTHERS AND SEEING THEIR REACTIONS IS QUITE A TURN ON FOR ME. WE WILL DEFINITELY BE DOING MORE OF THIS IN THE FUTURE.”

Sans got shakily to his feet and walked over to Papyrus. “so, shall we head upstairs?”

Papyrus simply got down on his knees and began gently removing Sans’ coat. “NO, MY DEAREST SANS. I FIND THAT THE FIRELIGHT IN THIS ROOM IS JUST PERFECT TO SET OFF THE IVORY CAST OF YOUR POLISHED SKULL. YOU MUST HAVE TAKEN EXTRA TIME WITH IT THIS MORNING, FOR IT LOOKS RADIANT.”

The smaller skeleton shuffled his slippers on the thick carpet. “i didn’t do anything special. all i did was use the new soap you got me.”

Papyrus smiled at him. “AH, YES. I CAN JUST PICTURE YOUR LOVELY, ROUNDED PHALANGES WORKING THE GOAT’S MILK SOAP UP TO A LATHER. IT MUST HAVE GATHERED SO WONDERFULLY ON ALL YOUR BONES.” He shivered, “YOU WILL HAVE TO LET ME HAVE THE PLEASURE OF WATCHING YOU TAKE A BATH SOME NIGHT SOON.”

Sans protested as his shirt was unbuttoned and removed from his person. “you get to see me naked all the time! why do you want to watch me take a bath?”

Papyrus lovingly stroked Sans’ humerus. “BECAUSE, MY LOVE, YOU ARE THE ONE INDULGING IN THE BATH. YOU DO WHAT MAKES YOU FEEL GOOD. I AM HELPLESS BUT TO OBSERVE YOUR PLEASURE, AND YOU  ARE EMPOWERED TO MAKE YOUR OWN DECISIONS. IT IS...EXHILARATING.”

Sans chuckled awkwardly in the silence that followed. Papyrus sensed his unease. Before Sans could even speak he said, “IF THE IDEA MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE, WE DO NOT HAVE TO DO IT. I NEVER WANT YOU TO FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE IN MY PRESENCE. THE BATH IDEA IS VANQUISHED.”

Sans drooped with relief. “thank you, papyrus. i don’t know why, but that idea just creeps me out. also can you, uh, promise not to watch me in the bath at any other time?”

Papyrus nodded solemnly. “UPON MY HONOR AS A VAMPIRE, I PROMISE I WILL NOT WATCH YOU BATHE OR SHOWER...ARE YOU STILL GREEN TO CONTINUE OUR PLAY SESSION?”

“i’m still green,” Sans said with a blush. Papyrus immediately rewarded it with a kiss. When he pulled back, Papyrus saw the goofy grin on Sans face. It lit up his soul in ways he couldn’t describe.

Sans’ slight cough broke him out of his spell. He smiled softly and answered the slight tilt of Sans’ head. “I WAS LOST IN THE REVERY OF YOUR GRIN. IT’S PLAYFULNESS AND LOPSIDEDNESS. MAKE IT OH SO ENDEARING. IT PAIRS PERFECTLY WITH THE BLUSH I CAN SEE RUNNING DOWN THE SPREAD OF YOUR RIBS. TRULY A MAGNIFICENT WORK OF ART.”

Papyrus slipped his hands under all the layers of Sans’ pants and pulled them down while Sans sputtered. “LOOK, IT EVEN EXTENDS DOWN HERE TO YOUR SACRUM. IT LOOKS SO DELICIOUSLY SENSITIVE. MAY I HAVE A TASTE?”

Sans shifted his legs to provide a better angle of attack for his vampire. “you may. and, uh...use your fangs? please?”

The firelight glinted off those said teeth as Papyrus smiled at his lover. “OF COURSE. TAP MY SKULL THREE TIMES WHEN YOU’VE HAD ENOUGH.” With that, he pounced with vampiric speed on the cute little bone and bit in. Sweet, glorious magic filled his system. It was made all the tastier by the arousal Papyrus could sense thrumming on his tongue. He licked the wounds and encouraged that magic to form into a sweet little shaft.

Sans immediately tried to cover it with his hands, but Papyrus didn’t let him. He smiled up at Sans and said, “WHAT DID I DO TO EARN THE LOVE OF SUCH A BEAUTIFUL MONSTER? YOUR MEMBER IS THE PERFECT SIZE TO FILL MY MOUTH. THERE’S NO NEED TO HIDE IT. BE PROUD OF IT.”

A squeak was his only response as once again Sans hid his face in his hands. Papyrus slurped Sans' dick up like it was the finest mead. He sucked on it and Sans' hands scrambled against his skull. Papyrus, glad his little trick had worked, pulled off and started pumping it with his hands. He kept eye contact with Sans as he did so. "THAT'S MY LOVER. DON'T LOOK AWAY; I WANT TO SEE THE LOOK IN YOUR EYES AS YOU CUM. IT IS THE MOST CAPTIVATING LOOK. I WOULD HATE TO MISS OUT ON SEEING IT."

Sans gulped and chuckled nervously. "yeah, that's… definitely coming up soon. can you, um… take me in your mouth? please?"

"OF COURSE," Papyrus said glibly. He took Sans into his mouth and worked him hard. Sans quickly came undone, and Papyrus merrily swallowed down every drop of his magic. Then he licked his lips and smiled. "THERE. NOW, ARE YOU UP FOR DOING ME?"

[preraphaelitepunk]

Fictober19 Day 31: Into the Future

Prompt #31: Scared, me?

Fandom: Good Omens

Characters: Crowley, Aziraphale

Rating: Teen (swearing)

Warnings: None

On AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/20843936/chapters/50600549

Aziraphale leaned closer to the mirror as he aligned the second strip of false eyelashes; this one was harder, and it took him several tries before he was satisfied.

“Still think that’s a weird choice of costume for you, angel,” Crowley said beside him, examining his fangs. He’d miracled them specially for the occasion, along with the rest of his costume.

“I think it’s inspired, and entirely appropriate. Alex is a story of redemption through free will, my dear.”

Crowley snorted. “What movie did you watch? Because I didn’t see very much redemption, just a lot of ultraviolence and humans being really awful to each other. No oranges, either, clockwork or otherwise. Good soundtrack, though.”

“I’m only using the cinematographic version as a visual reference. I’m Book Alex, who grows up at the end and chooses to leave violence behind him.”

“Ah, so free will triumphs where science and weird wires in your eyes fail?”

“More or less. No one can truly change unless they choose to do so. It seemed appropriate.”

Aziraphale snugged his bowler hat in place and examined himself. All in white, with light taupe suspenders and black kick-boots he’d asked Crowley to help him pick out, and one eye outlined with false lashes. The hair was the wrong colour, but he preferred to keep his natural white-blond.

Crowley, dressed as a very alluring vampire, slipped his arms around Aziraphale’s waist and grinned at their reflection. “I like the codpiece. You should wear that more often.”

“Oh, hush, fiendish serpent.” Turning his head, Aziraphale gave him a gentle kiss on the cheekbone. “You look fabulous, my dear.”

“Nah. Nobody’ll be looking at me, anyway; all eyes will be on you and your codpiece.”

Aziraphale huffed and pulled away. “One more word about that and I’ll reconsider this whole thing.”

“You wouldn’t. Not with all the kids looking forward to this,” Crowley said, following him as Aziraphale moved toward the staircase.

Crowley had been given free rein to decorate the bookshop. Neither of them had much experience celebrating Halloween the human way — Aziraphale had furtively handed out treats when necessary but had always fretted that Gabriel would disapprove, and Crowley had found the whole thing gauche and a little embarrassing, like having to listen to someone extolling the virtues of cake mix when you’re a professional pastry chef — but now that they were both free and officially unemployed, they’d relaxed a bit. Enough to give it a try when the Soho shopkeepers’ association dropped by with their plans for a trick-or-treating event.

“Everything looks marvelous, my dear. I particularly like all the candles and the cobwebs and dust. It’s all properly spooky.”

“Candles are battery-powered. ’M not taking chances with open flames around here. And, uh, I didn’t do the cobwebs and the dust. Those were already there.”

“Oh. Well, that’s lovely; saved you some time, then. And the sweets?”

Crowley gestured toward the door, where he’d set up a little table with bowls and bottles. “Chocolates from that place you like in Notting Hill; regular, vegan, sugar-free options, all fairly traded and slave-labour-free per spec. Colouring books and markers for the non-food option. And I’m rather proud of this bit.” He picked up a taffeta-wrapped bottle and waggled it. “Cask of amontillado for the grown-ups.”

“I’m sure they’ll be very grateful, even if they don’t catch the reference,” Aziraphale laughed as he inspected the chocolates. They smelled divine, and looked even better in their colorful wrappings. “Do we have enough glasses, or did you plan to hand out entire bottles?”

With a flourish, Crowley plucked a napkin from the table, revealing a silver tray filled with gleaming sherry glasses. “Should be enough to get us started, I think.”

He looked so pleased with himself, Aziraphale’s heart swelled with a surge of affection and adoration. “It’s all perfect, my love. You did a beautiful job.”

“Nah, it’s nothing.” Crowley tried to shove his fingers into pockets he didn’t currently have, and settled for crossing his arms across his chest. “Just a little something for the kids.”

“I’m sure they will be delighted, darling.” He checked his pocket watch. “Ooh, it’s almost time! They’ll be here any second.”

Crowley came over, slipped his hand into Aziraphale’s. “Scared, angel? Bit of stage fright?”

“Scared, me?” Aziraphale quirked one side of his mouth. “I’m slightly terrified, but not about this.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m just so happy. I’m not accustomed to that, my dear. It feels unsettling, as if it’s something I’m not supposed to have and it will be taken away any moment now.”

Crowley gave his hand a squeeze. “I know what you mean. But I’m not going anywhere, and you’re not going anywhere, and together we’ll face down any bastard who tries to take us away from each other, right?”

“Right. Damn right, in fact.” He blinked back the tears that had sprung up unwanted in his eyes. Over six thousand years of conditioning from Heaven; his eyes hadn’t been wired open, but he’d still been forced to watch the propaganda, to parrot it back, to change his behaviour in ways that made his whole being ache and weep. He’d been released from that prison, though — he and Crowley had broken themselves free — and now he was able to choose. He had free will, and by the Almighty, he was going to use it.

There was a knock at the door, and sounds of eager children. Crowley kissed him on the cheek, lightly. “Ready, angel?”

Aziraphale squared his shoulders and grinned, the unshed tears already fading. “Ready, my love.” And he stepped forward into the future.