#just to clarify personally I am not a vampire

[ratuszarsenal]

vampires these days think they're so better than everybody. 'oh look at me I've been a sad horny high schooler since the 50s'. well I was born in 1772 but some of us immortal beings know to keep this shit to ourselves

[bunnyinatree]

Throwback to that time I drafted a Frankenstein fic where the reanimation process was essentially vampirism, so instead of killing Henry for good, the Creature decided to turn him into a vampire. I wanted the Creature to point at vampire!Henry and say, "See for yourself, Victor, the awful existence to which I am condemned." But Victor would be the ultimate hypocrite and would keep shunning the Creature while sheltering vampire!Henry. It would be the ultimate, "So when your boyfriend requires human blood to survive, he's worthy of love and affection, but when I, your creation—" 💀

[chixkencxrry]

mi sol

Summary: You get a new job as a caretaker at a mysterious estate two towns over. The salary is good enough for you to ignore certain things -- at first. Soon enough you have no choice but to get away. Too bad you're in for life. (one-shot, plot with porn) Vampire! Yandere! Miguel O'Hara x Fem! Reader

Warnings: eventual SMUT, masturbation, p in v, pussy eating, somewhat YANDERE! MIGUEL, YOUR CONSUMPTION OF MEDIA IS ON YOU! NOT PROOFED

fanart by @yeagersatorubar (twt)

The email had come in the middle of the night.

It was from an unrecognizable source. An acceptance to something, some job you didn’t remember applying for. A caretaker job two towns over. You rubbed your eyes in the blue light glare of your rickety laptop, lips pursued as you read.

“When did I apply for this?”

Attached to the close of the email was a number and name. A woman named Lyla was the contact. The name of the property was Stone. You dialled the number. If the person was sending the email this late, you didn’t worry about your call waking them up. 

“Hello. You must be our new caretaker.”

You cleared your throat – taken aback. “I, uh, yes. I am. I hope it’s okay that I’m calling this late.”

The woman chuckled. “That’s fine! You’ll learn that we keep odd hours here.”

“Right,” did you really need the money that much? You eyed your room. It was pink, with posters half hanging. It had been your childhood room and you still occupied it. It made your mouth itch. You needed to leave. “When do you want me to start?”

Though as your taxi pulled up to the estate, you found yourself regretting it. Maybe regret was too strong a word. You found yourself reconsidering it. Had you done something terribly stupid by coming here? By packing your things and telling your parents they could fuck off?

It had taken four hours to get here, the sun had set and it was twilight now. Would it be too early to run back with your tail between your legs? Were you so weak that you had to give up? 

“That’ll be 50$.” the driver grunted, growing impatient with your slow movement.

You baulked and shoved the bill into his hand. Out of spite, you took your time to get your bags out – making sure you didn’t miss one. You could have sworn you heard him curse as he drove off. Rolling your eyes, you slid your phone out to get to your emails – Lyla had sent you the code to get in. Turning your flashlight on the keypad, you punched the code in and continued your trek up the property. It was a long walk that left you huffing. 

Once you met the great doors, you knocked the lion-faced knockers loudly a few times and waited. When you went to try for a second time, it pierced your skin, making you hiss. Your finger slipped into your mouth and you sucked. 

The door swung open to reveal a fashionable dress auburn-haired woman with heart-shaped sunglasses. She grinned at you. All sharp, white teeth. “Hello! Aren't you an earlier riser?”

You bristled. “Pardon?”

“Are these your bags?” She turned her head inside the mansion and whistled. “I’ll get Ben to bring them in.”

Lyla was the assistant of the owner of the house. A real recluse, she claimed. You didn’t mind. They had paid you a freaking signing bonus when you agreed. Who gave signing bonuses to caretakers? Dumb rich people. This guy could be a troll for all you cared. As long as each salary came with the flourish of that, you could never meet the man. 

“It's more of a managerial position really.” Lyla clarified after showing you the lion’s share of the house. “Ben takes care of the heavy lifting. Or Peter – he doesn’t show up much though, new father and all that.”

“We have cameras in the common areas. Bedrooms and baths are off limits of course. You’ll get access to them.”

“So, Mr. Stone just wants me to look after the place? Make sure it's clean and in order?”

Lyla stilled, causing you to bump into her. Her pale face twitched. “Mr. O’Hara. Don’t make that mistake again.”

“Sorry. It’s just the name of the estate –”

Lyla shook her head. “Don’t make that mistake again.”

“My bad.”

The tour continued on silently. Lyla stopped at the West Wing, where a portrait of a young family hung. They were dressed in regalia from at least three centuries ago. It was of two beautiful boys, a stately-looking woman and a cold-faced man. You shivered. You hoped the man was not Mr O’Hara.

“Don’t worry,” Lyla seemed to read your mind. Her pointer finger landed on the taller of the two boys. “That’s Mr O’Hara.”

You relaxed. Even though it was an old photo, the bright-eyed kid couldn’t be too different from the man who had just hired yourself out to. 

Right?

***

Miguel felt warm.

For the first time in a century, he felt the warmth of you in the walls of his prison. It was like feeling the sun again. Like tasting wine, luscious and dark. You were home. He hadn’t risen yet. His meal sat by his window, eyes glossed over with compulsion. Miguel didn’t want to see you without eating. It had been so long after all. So very long without your touch, the brush of your lips, the scent of your hair, the feel of your pussy.

He throbbed with want for you. 

Rising from his coffin, his talons fell. Piercing two holes in the side of his meal’s neck, Miguel made sure to drink his fill until it was cold and listless. His fangs, his fangs he would keep for you. 

It was funny how it started. He had run into you while on a hunt. Well, you hadn’t noticed of course. You had been on a date, smelling of want and looking like sin in red. He wasn’t worthy of you. But that man touched you and lips had planted on your skin – he was lucky Miguel hadn’t killed him right then and there. He had been too caught up in you. Looking at you. Seeing you. Flesh and fire before him. The curls of your hair, the flare of your hips, the drag of your voice and the thrill of your laughter.

That man did not deserve any of that.

All of that belonged to him. 

In the computer age, everything lay at his fingertips. He found you with ease. Found where you lived. Who you were now. Everything that the web of connections could provide. He knew what books you read, what songs you liked, your favourite bands and flower. 

He also knew you needed him. You were twenty-five and unemployed, living with your parents and your art wasn’t selling as you’d liked. How that desperation clung to you, how that desperation made you sweet to him. 

A gurgling sound distracted him. 

Sneering, he looked at his feet to see the meal had not totally died. Rolling his eyes, he tore the heart out of its chest and sucked the remaining blood. He cursed. 

Now he’d have to shower before seeing you. What a nuisance.

After cleaning off the blood, he watched the surveillance footage of Lyla giving you the door and waited until she’d left you alone like he’d asked to find you. He didn’t want an interloper. He wanted you alone to create a repertoire. 

Running his fingers through his hair, he checked his teeth in the mirror — all traces of blood were gone. His talons were retracted, fangs disappeared but his eyes were still red from feeding. Would that freak you? He didn’t want to change it.

Tapping his smartwatch, he ordered Lyla to bring him a pair of contacts. 

“Why? Won’t it just dissolve in a few hours?” 

“Because I said so.”

“Well, now I’m not gonna bring them on principle.”

Miguel snapped. “Lyla…please bring the goddamn contacts.”

“They’re already in your room, fearless creator. Vanity drawer to the left.”

Miguel switched the watch off. Carefully, he placed the contacts onto his eyes. They stung a little but he only needed it for a few hours. They would be long dissolved and by then his eyes would return to their true brown. 

You were beautiful in the kitchen. Hair tied up in a bun ontop of your head. Messy curls sweep to your forehead. Lips, pinked and plumb moving as you chewed. You seemed to try to make yourself seem smaller. Crouching over the plate of chicken salad Lyla had prepared for you. She couldn’t cook – his golem, but she tried. They had so few human guests these days after all.

Miguel cleared his throat, making you jolt and stare at him with big eyes. Your lashes fluttered, and you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and stood. “Oh, hello! You must be Mr. O’Hara.”

Your offered hand hung for a moment. He eyed it. Bare, delicate, your nails sharpened to a humanly acceptable point. He realised he’d been staring for longer than necessary and took it, glad he fed so his body warm. Your hand slipped in with ease. He gripped it and shook it, saying your name. “Call me Miguel. It’s nice to meet you. Lyla gave you the grounds tour?”

“Oh...no, she, uh, showed me the house and my quarters but not the grounds.” You titled your head, looking out the window. “I figured it was too dark out, no?”

Excellent. “We have very good lights. If you’re finished eating, I can give you the tour myself.”

“Yes! Definitely.” So eager. How promising.

***

Mr. O’Hara – no, Miguel, led you out by placing a hand on the small of your back. It was large and spanning and brushed against the rise of your ass before it fell to his side again and he resumed a respectable distance. He smelt of sandalwood and citrus. An oud wafted from him. This immaculately dressed older man with lines on his face creating dimension. He couldn’t be much older than you, but everything about him seemed grown whereas you seemed like a child playing dress up in adulthood. 

The grounds were massive. Three acres he’d said. There was a small rose garden that led out to a private lake. A family mausoleum that made you shutter when you passed it. Arched trees bent over the manicured green. The entire place was immaculate. 

What on earth did they need you for?

“Did the pass caretaker retire?”

Miguel shook his head. A small fence came into view. You saw dried-up shrubs and trees, barren spots and a small shed. “She passed.”

“My condolences,” you whispered softly, fingers brushing along his arm to comfort him briefly. “What is this?”

“It used to be a greenhouse.”

There was nothing green about the space. Clearing your throat, you let Miguel guide you back to the house. It was late now. You grew tired. So, very tired. “You have a beautiful home.”

“Thank you.” His eyes peered curiously at her. She swore they flashed red but that may have been her weariness showing. “I hope you can be comfortable here.”

His gaze was intense. You found it difficult to look away – it caused a dizzying effect on you. Turning away, Miguel and you went back into the house and he escorted you to your quarters. “Thank you for this opportunity. I’m really excited to dig in.”

He smiled – all white teeth. “No. I’m pleased to have you here. You have no idea how much.”

When you finally closed your door you let out a slight squeal of excitement. Biting your lower lip, you traced your fingers along the door. You had not expected Mr. O’Hara to look like that. Sure, he was certainly a mature man. The lines on his face told you that he was at least mid-thirties and the way he carried himself like a grown man would. 

God. You didn’t know how you were going to make it out working with such a specimen. You could barely keep it together on the walk! Running your hand over your hair, you went to your laptop bag and pulled the small notebook out. You googled your new boss, disappointed to find nothing much. There was one link that had his name, a record from an archive three hundred years ago. When you clicked it, it bounced back. 

Frustrated, you closed it and decided to just go to bed. 

Weeks passed by, and a monolith of activity passed. You devoted your all to the house but particularly the greenhouse at the back of the property beside the lake. It became a passion project of yours. Lyla and Ben were helpful of course – they made sure that you got all the aid and materials you needed to realise your vision. 

You became closer to the other members of the house. Lyla was kind and a good guide for you. Miguel was something.

It was not that you had an extensive working history but you were quite sure the interest he seemed to pay to you and your tasks were a little extra attention. In some regard, it unnerved you. But in another, you liked the praise and appreciation you received for every task completed. You also didn’t mind being in close proximity to him. There was no denying that Miguel had become a crush of yours and the star of your private fantasies.

Look at him. All harsh angles and sharpness, but his actions, his words were rose petal soft. God. He was a delicious man.

Another thing that struck you as strange was the utter loneliness of the house when the sun was up. When they had called themselves nocturnal creatures, you had merely thought it meant that they slept very late or worked very late in the evening. You were wrong though – they were completely gone during the day. In the afternoons they rose, bright and colourful as your energy dwindled down. 

“Techies,” Lyla had explained. “We work best at night – what can we say!”

It felt like bullshit but the pay was too good for you to make it your business. By the beginning of your third month, you know the place like the back of your hand. Well – most of it but for the wing Lyla had warned you against. One particularly slow day temptation had gotten the better of you. Could your curiosity be blamed for your next act? You crept into the area, floorboard creaking as you looked. It was not a different hallway than the others. 

A painting sat at the edge – but it was too poorly lit for you to see from your end. Squinting, you walked closer. The painting held a tear. It was a woman no doubt, soft-featured but you only saw up to her lower lip on which sat a mole. Something pulled at you. 

You stretched forward, fingertips brushing the dried oil and hanging paper. Pushing it up to see the face, your breathe hitched at the sight. 

The hairs at the back of your neck stood up and your stomach turned. You ran back to the other half of the house, heart speeding in your chest to jump through your ribs. You closed your door – the feeling of your skin getting ready to crawl off your body not leaving. You rubbed your ribs beneath your bosom. 

Everything about that had felt wrong. 

Since you began working here – you hadn’t taken a weekend off. Packing your bag hurriedly, you made a call to your mother, placing her on speaker. It rang for only a few moments.

“Hello, little stranger.”

“Mom – I, I need to come home.”

The panic in your voice set her voice on edge. “Baby? Is everything alright at your job?”

“I just got a bad feeling, Mom. I just need to come home.”

“Okay. Call an Uber.” Logic was your mother’s failsafe in times of duress. 

You shook your head. Ubers didn’t get this far out. You would have to walk a mile into the town to order one or call a taxi. “No. They won’t come here. I’ll head to town and catch something.”

“Call me when you’re there. Okay?” Your mother cautioned. 

“Okay...I will.”

Packing your things took longer than anticipated. You looked at your watch – it was almost five. It usually got dark around six. Shouldering your haversack and duffel bag, you snuck out of the estate and made your walk down the winding road to the town. 

Your bags felt heavy and the road took forever. Eventually, you found a bus stop. It was just about twilight now. The blue sky became a warm orange. Warm day dying into a cool evening. 

You sighed, back hitting the seat of the bench. The app told you the next bus to town was coming in the next twelve minutes. You just needed one ride to the inner city and there you could easily get an Uber home. 

Closing your eyes, you felt relaxed for the first time in an hour. 

You were safe. You were going home. 

***

He knew you were missing the moment the sun had set. 

Miguel had stretched the entire expanse of the property – searching everywhere for you. All of your things were gone from your quarters. Even your dirty laundry was gone. It was still full of your scent. He dug his nose into the rumpled sheets. Lilac and Lily. His talons dug through them – he picked up notes of fear and curiosity. Fear? What had made you fearful?

Miguel went to the abandoned wing. Your scent filled the air. Had you been snooping little girl? The painting. You’d seen your first iteration from so long ago. 

“Lyla,” Miguel roared. “I want everyone on the ground looking for her. She doesn’t leave this town – do you hear me?”

“Louder than necessary but okay.”

He drove from the estate, through the town until he picked up your scent. His talons dug into the steering. Rage fuelled him like no other. Had you really thought you could leave? He thought he could be patient, be kind, and wait you out. Then you left. 

What made you think you had the right?

His journey halted. Miguel retracted his talons and exited, fangs extended as you sat leaning back on a bus bench. About half a mile ahead, he could hear the incoming sound of the bus. You would get the chance. 

“Where do you think you’re going, mi sol?”

You jumped up, eyes wide. “Miguel! How did you?”

“I can find you anywhere.” He said gruffly. “You leave without notice at all your jobs?”

“I, uh, I was just taking the weekend off.”

He clicked his tongue. “You’re lying to me. You were snooping. Come back with me.”

“I’m not going back.” You snapped. “I don’t know what’s going on in that place but it's not natural.”

Miguel grew tired but he knew he couldn’t be heavy-handed. He had to be smart about this. “You’re right. I’m sorry about that go to your family. But know on Monday you’ll still have a job and a home with us.”

You were so easy to lie to that he almost felt bad.

The bus came and he fell back, watching you leave. The bus moved slowly down the dusty road. It was a long ride back to town. He tapped his watch and made a phone call. “Lyla. I need an accident. Now.”

“Fatal or fatale?”

He sighed. “I’m not in the mood for this right now.”

“Well, she doesn’t seem to be in the mood for you either.”

“Crash the damn bus, Lyla, now.”

“Already sent something that way, bossman.”

“Ayudame dios.”

Keeping up with the bus wasn’t a problem. Through the woodlands, he could see a creation jumping through – all fur and bolts, his favourite hairy bot crashing into the bus from the front, making the driver stop immediately. The wolf sat growing, padding its way to the front sidewheels before he punctured it with his teeth tearing through. The bus leaned to its side, dipping. He watched, from his parked spot, morbidly as the great machine broke the side window, paw reaching in. He heard you scream and smelt the faint scent of your blood. 

Miguel decided it had gone too far then, chasing the creature off. 

The driver of the bus came out first, assessing the damages. You shivered, trembling as you climbed down with your bags on your shoulders. You had been crying. Salty tears rolled down your cheeks. “How long until someone gets out here.”

The driver scratched his head. “Best luck you got is to hitchhike. They’ll come get me in an hour or two. Sorry, darling.”

That was his cue. Miguel started the car and drove by slowly. It was tinted so you excitedly jumped up and down, glad to think it was a kindly stranger. As if he would leave you to be picked up by some ill-thinking stranger.

He stopped, rolling the windows down. “Need a ride?”

You looked stiff with fear. The driver, however, beamed at him. “Oh, sure young man. This lady is heading into town. Think you can give her a ride?”

“Sure I can.” He unlocked the door, pushing it open. Miguel smiled at her, showing his sharp teeth. “Get in.”

Nodding, you hurriedly got into the vehicle. Your curly hair fell to your face as glossy eyes watched him. Miguel turned the radio on and a storm warning came out. 

“What are you?”

“Let’s get back to the estate and then I can explain.” Miguel made a sharp U-Turn and drove past the wreckage, racing back to the property. 

He could smell your fear, the hint of your blood, he looked down seeing a little blood blooming beneath your white dress. It formed a little cloud. He hissed, he hadn’t meant for you to get hurt. “Are you in pain?”

You kissed your teeth instead of responding to him. He sighed. He had expected that – you always, without fail, had a bad attitude when he fucked up. Miguel cursed himself, he should have removed that painting. Why hadn’t he thought clearly? “I didn’t want it to come to this – if you had just let me explain.”

“What is there to explain?”

The estate was coming into view now. Rising like a terrible moon on the horizon.

“It wasn’t you in the painting.” He clarified. “Well, not you. A version of you.”

He punched the code in, the gates opening as he drove up and slamming shut behind the two of you. “That doesn’t make any sense, Miguel.”

You clutched your bags, walking ahead of him as you entered the house. You set them down and Miguel smelt your blood more. “Let me fix you up. Please.”

You flinched but allowed him to lead you to the other side of the house into the very wing that had made you run. Miguel tucked his hands into his pockets. Watching you carefully step ahead. He tried hard not to look at your ass, the switch and sway of the hefty cheeks but he tried to keep his mind on task and out of the gutter.

Which was hard since you looked and smelt like you.

“Are you human?”

“No.”

You gasped, wrapping your arms around you. “Okay.”

Miguel could positively hear your mind working. You turned to look at him, eyes narrowed as if to find the answer in his face. Miguel decided to make it easy on you. He opened his mouth, fangs dropped. 

“Shit!”

“Shit.”

A familiar door came up. His hand settled on your waist, stopping you from going further. He felt you shiver under his touch. The faint scent of your arousal wafting upward. His gums shivered. 

“C’mon,” his voice was gruff. “It's right through here.”

It had been decades since Miguel had let anyone but Lyla in. Having you here – where he slept, fed, and worked as a sort of rawness he had missed. He had missed you. Miguel had learned to love this new version of you, you sang as you worked along the house. Danced to pop songs and cooked in the early mornings before the sun rose. 

“Sit here.” he directed you to a chaise lounge, eyes gazing back. “Take the dress off.”

Your lips quivered with a mounting argument but common sense seemed to reign for a moment as you slipped it off. Just watching you made him harden. The black cups of your bra barely keep the fat of your tits in, through the thin lace, he could see the puckered areolas of your breasts. The high waist of your thong dug into the subtle curve of your hourglass figure.

Merida. 

Miguel set the tools down on the bed and cleaned the wound. It wasn’t too deep, just a flesh wound that didn’t need stitches. He brought his thumb to his fang and nicked the skin, pressing the open hole to your wound he smeared it with blood. 

“Jesus Christ…that’s a health code violation.”

He snorted, leaning forward and licking it clean. After his saliva had wiped it off, not even a cut remained. “All better, mi sol.”

“What does that mean?”

“My sn.” he translated. “You’re my sun. Always have been.”

“So you’re a vampire.”

“I’m a vampire.”

You hummed. “And the woman who looks like me in the painting?”

“My wife when I was human.”

“Ah.”

“And I’m a version of her?”

“One of many.”

“Did you kill them?”

“God no.” The idea made his skin burn. “I could never, never hurt you.”

“But you’re a vampire, Miguel. What kind of promise is that?”

“Every time you’ve been in my reach, I loved you until you left me. Until old age took you or until sickness took you.”

Miguel fell to his knees resting his head on your lap. Your face read on incredulity but the fear had vanished from your scent. Curiosity with hints of want. 

“I’m going back to my room.” You stated, picking up your bloodied dress. “And tomorrow night, we’ll talk.”

“Okay.”

***

You couldn’t sleep. When you got back to your room, you shower and change. Texting your mom to know you’re alright. You try to listen to music. To watch a movie. To read but nothing gets you sleep. 

Perhaps it's simply a side-effect of finding out your work for vampires. 

Rain began to pour outside, it was a soothing sound – you blushed as another thought came to mind. There was another way to get you to sleep. Opening your door, you peek outside, making sure the hallway was clear.

Closing your door, you twist the look and step out of your nightshirt and slide your panties off your hips. Digging into one of your bags, tucked at the very bottom was your prize. The blue vibrator stuck out to you. Catching your lower lip with your teeth, you sat at the edge of your bed. Raising one leg and keeping the other down, your legs were spread. 

Your thumb rose the speed to your usual one as you teased your clitoris with it. Eyes closed, you imagined a familiar scenario. Your back against a wall, legs hooked by a faceless strong man. He would take his time with you first. Fucking a thick cock in and out of your wet cunt. 

Your head fell back, as the man in your imagination sped up, fucking you harder. Back hitting the wall. As your height came – you murmured a name and a face appeared in your imagination. 

“Miguel.”

Your climax was instant, spraying wetness onto the edge of the bed, a few droplets dampening the carpet. You set the vibrator aside, collapsing onto the bed. Hands roamed up and down the length of your body, and you vibrated with desire – Miguel’s hands would be bigger than yours, rubbing along your figure, grabbing and biting. He would want you. He would let it be known how much he needed you. 

Your fingers went back to your pussy, rubbing the sticky substance about before slipping a finger in. His fingers would spread you better. Fuck you better. You were sure. 

“You look delicious, mi sol.”

Eyes flickered open – Miguel stood at your door with glowing red eyes and mouth parted in hunger as he stared. His hair was not gelled as usual, falling curls making him look dishevelled. Shamelessly, you added a second finger. The wet sounds grew louder. In the quickness of a blink, he appeared in front of you. He squatted in front of your pussy – inches from your furious fingering.

“That’s it, baby. Make yourself come.”

You snapped like a whip. Miguel growled before you, eyes never leaving your wanton form. “Tell me I can touch you.”

“You can touch me.” you whimpered.

He sighed, a hand resting on the mound of your pussy. His thumb stroked your clit. “Tell me I can kiss you, mi cara.”

“Kiss me.”

Miguel’s lips planted themselves on the folds of your pussy. He kissed and sucked, tonguing the insides of you while he strummed your clit. He took his time. Savouring the flavours of your pussy, moaning as he ate and tasted every crevice of you. 

Your fingers threaded his curly hair, gripping them as you ground against his face. His lips sucked on your clit, his hand moving from your mound to your thigh to keep your legs open while two of his thick fingers sawed into you. 

Messily, you sprayed his face, hips moving maddeningly against his pretty face. Miguel sucked it down, licking and nipping at your trembling centre. When he rose, his face was shiny and he grinned down at you. 

“Say you want this.”

How could you not? “I need this.”

You watched with earnestness as he pulled his pants down, slipping them off. His T-shirt went next. His body was better than you had imagined. The bounce of his thick cock. Begging to be made shiny with your pussy.

“Spread yourself for me, baby. Let me see this pretty little pussy.”

Your fingers spread yourself, you watched as he stroked himself, coating the large member with pre-cum. He bowed his head, spitting on your wet cunt. Miguel’s thumb rubbed the saliva in, using two of his fingers to open the weeping carven. Slowly he entered you – his thickness making you gasp. 

Your hands gripped his shoulders, moaning as he bottomed out. You whimpered, groaning as he started to move. Your legs wrapped around him, nails digging into his shoulders. 

“You’re doing so good, mi sol. Taking my cock so deep.”

His hips snapped, taking his time as you grew used to him. Miguel was certainly bigger than any toy you owned. His cock dragged along you like he was making sure you took him so deep you didn’t know where you ended and he began. 

“Such a good girl. Mi vida. Mi luz.” His hand went to your throat, squeezing it slowly as his eyes stayed on your face. Memorising every O your lips made. It was disconcerting. But when his hips sped up, shaking the bed and making you mewl – you couldn’t care less. 

Miguel’s head bowed, lips to your neck as he kissed his way down to your breasts. You felt his teeth graze the soft flesh of your breasts. He didn’t have to say what he wanted. You wanted it too, you could feel the tremble of your upcoming orgasm. 

“Do it.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Teeth sinking into the flesh and sucking. You creamed his cock, shouting obscenities as your orgasm shuddered through your entire body. Stars dotted your eyes, your toes curled and your bite your tongue so hard it bled.

Miguel’s hips went faster, hips snapping hard into you that it pained you ever so slightly. His cock twitched with an especially vicious plunge, painting your walls with his cum. Fangs retracting, Miguel licked your nipple, lips kissing it as he held you close. 

The high of it all slowly died down. You felt the thickness of his cock and the fullness of his seed. Your fingers traced along his arm. “I’m guessing you’ve been hearing me most nights for the past three months.”

He kissed your sternum and then your lips. It was a passionate kiss. And you realised – your first kiss. How backwards the two of you had done everything. How unjust – because it seemed Miguel was a damned good kisser.

 “And every night I touched myself to your sound.”

Your pussy clenched around him at the thought. Miguel smirked. “Aren’t you sore?”

“I’ll worry about that later.”

“As you wish.”

***

“So you’re sure everything is alright now?”

You rolled your eyes, reassuring your mother for the fifth today. It had been a solid week since you’d left and returned. Your mother still didn’t believe it was totally consensually – despite the fact that you had invited her and she’d come and see that you were totally alive and well. 

“You can’t blame your mother for worrying.”

“I know.” Your eyes flickered outside the greenhouse. It was night now. The other members of the house would be up soon. Your mother and you finished talking soon after. It seemed like on cue as you finished the call Miguel came into the greenhouse. Pulling off your muddy gloves, you smiled at him. At your side in and second he kissed your forehead and set his hands around your waist. 

“Hello, mi luz.”

“Hi, baby.” You kissed his mouth. “Did you feed yet?”

He hummed a confirmation, caging you against the desk. Miguel picked up a seed packing, explaining it. “Hibiscus? I don’t think those grew here.”

“Well, they’re not native,” you said. Slipping out from him, you dragged him down to his knees to see a box of soil you’d been working on. “But I’m sure I’ve got the soil mixture down. In the next few months, we’ll see how it goes.”

His hand rubbed along the side of your body. “That’s incredible, baby.”

Standing up, you looked down at him and blushed. “Well, its no machine wolf.”

“Mhmm.” His hands held your hips, squeezing the globes of your ass cheeks. He smacked the fat, groping it unashamedly. His nose pressed to your groin. “You’re an incredible woman. I hope you remember that.”

“Kiss up.”

His eyes flashed, and his lips spread to a mischievous grin. Miguel fell back onto the ground of the greenhouse. You smirked setting legs on either side of your hips. You unbuckled his pants and took his member out. You stroked it, spitting on the tip of it, before rubbing up and down. His hand raised your skirt up, a talon stretching out and cutting the side of your panty off. He pulled it off, baring your pussy against the rough material of your jeans. 

Hips raised, Miguel pulled you onto his cock, grinning as you whimpered at the sudden intrusion of his thickness. Your hands pressed to his hard chest, crying as he fucked up into you. 

Yes, you thought, eyes rolling back, everything was more than alright.

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[rpgchoices]

Astarion origin playthrough: what to expect/what is added

So I did a speed run on easy mode of the Astarion origin playthrough, which is where you choose Astarion as your main character. I wanted to write a bit about the extra lore the game gives and in general what is added (and what is lost).

I added some of the videos I have taken in case you are curious. Keep in mind that some videos are embedded, others are in link for my twitter or this blog.

SPOILERS. Just know that I went through the main plot points and the quests I know Astarion has dialogue about in a Tav game, so I did not do all of the quests/areas.

First of all... I don't think there is enough content to justify losing Astarion as a companion, as Astarion will be not voiced when you play as him, and in general you actually get less characterization.

ACT 1

Act 1 is the one with the most amount of extra content.

There are a few extra lines from the narrator about you standing in the sun for the first time, and your past.

You get a whole personal quest about hiding your vampirism or revealing it. There are different ways to reveal it:

You simply tell the companions (when you think about it the narrator will ponder about how much your companion trusts you and if they will react well)

You can use "bite" on an enemy when your companions are around (or on a companion)

You can be caught while you bite someone at night

The night bite happens after a nightmare, so you will also get a Cazador nightmare where Astarion hides/attacks/cowers before Cazador (video here). After the nightmare Astarion will think about finally being free and breaking one of Cazador's rules. You can decide to bite a companion or not.

If you do not bite a companion you will have no other option to do the bite at night, and the only reveals can happen in the other two modalities. Honestly, I am not sure how long you can drag it... pretty long, I think. One time I need to find out if you can go almost the whole game without revealing it.

If you tell a companion about it you will have to pass a check, but nothing bad happens if you fail, you just get a bad reaction (Gale yelled at me).

Other extra content from act 1 is about meeting the monster hunter. If you meet him pre-reveal, he will not say your name, btw. But it is pretty much the same as in Tav playthrough.

ACT 2

In act 2 you will have another nightmare (video here). This time you do not see what happens, you just see Astarion curling in his bed and thinking about his scars. This is to introduce the scars, as we have no idea he has them, and it will happen before you meet Raphael.

You can ask Raphael about the scars, but sadly none of your companions react.

Then the rest proceeds as usual. The sad part for me was meeting the drow lady who asks for a bit in exchange of a potion, and she is so different. She suddenly is very deferential, and asks quite nicely. Astarion can refuse or agree, but nothing happens, it is just almost a funny scene if he agrees and suddenly she tastes very bad. So yeah, you get the potion and no insight.

ACT 3

Act 3 is the one which has the same content but slightly different, as you will meet the spawns and Cazador from Astarion's pov.

When you meet the Gur outside BG3 the scene is exactly the same as in Tav play, minus Astarion's funny lines. When you meet Petras and Dalyria at the tavern, you get an extended scene.

You can just talk with them and convince your sister to tell you about the ritual, or you can show them that you can walk into the sun (by walking up to the window), or you can grab Petras and threaten him into the sun. If you fail to grab him, he will insult you and call you the runt of the litter. The whole scene clarified a bit that there is really a lot of animosity from Petras towards Astarion, and that Astarion was definitely the scapegoat of Cazador.

When Leon attacks you at night you also get more insight. First, you can see that if you try to explain, Leon is quite quick to hear you out, differently from Tav's playthrough. You will also find out that Cazador ordered them to take you home broken, so if you agree to go with them they will still attack you.

Another extra scene comes from the brothel one. I posted a video on my blog a couple of days ago, but basically you can talk with the drow twins and this line will pop up:

You can basically tell them that you used to be in their position too, but for you it was not consensual.

The rest of the game is the same.

The Cazador palace scenes are also the same, with Astarion commenting on the rooms. You will have extra from meeting Godey, of course. He will comment about Astarion needing to be broken and needed to respect the master. Video here.

When Astarion meets Sebastian you find out that he doesn't really immediately remember Sebastian's name. Astarion also has a "deception" check to tell Sebastian he really cared about him. You can see the video here. But the rest is pretty similar, same with meeting the children of the Gur, you can actually recognize their hunger and feel compassion for them.

When you meet with Cazador everything is pretty similar. It is interesting that you can tell him that you are an angel of vengeance to which he mocks you. This time you do not attack Cazador but he controls you immediately and you have to pass a constitution check to get free, otherwise Astarion will end up in the ritual (and the companions can free him).

Btw, you can see here all the options you have when you meet Cazador as Astarion.

Once the fight is over, Astarion can decide if he wants to complete the ritual or not. He can ask the companions to help him and I think they always do (borrowing their eyes) even if they disapprove. Interestingly, the narrator directly says "hey, this is a bad choice, no return", basically. You have three chances to stop for performing the ritual (also you can intimidate Cazador to beg for his life).

If you do not stop the ritual, your sister Dalyria will beg you to stop before dying.

Here I posted on twitter video options of the post-Cazador's fight.

As you can see, if you decide to stop the ritual the scene plays exactly the same and it is a rare one which is actually voiced by Neil. Your brothers and sisters will then come up to you, and as Astarion you will have to decide what to do with them. If you ask them not to feed on people, Petras will get a bit annoying and you will have to persuade/intimidate him. Then you decide what to do with the other spawns.

Interestingly, Dalyria gets really disappointed with Astarion if you decide to kill the spawns or trap them.

A very nice thing is that if you refuse to complete the ritual your companion will be SO SO PROUD OF YOU, especially Jaheira, Wyll and Karlach. You can see here Karlach in video, and here Wyll and Gale, and Jaheira here.

The rest plays exactly the same. There is no extra Astarion-specific content until the end.

If you play as lord vampire Astarion there is no specific end that I could find. I am not sure why, but basically in my playthrough I had not found the dragon, so technically I had not finished Wyll's quest. When Karlach was dying I could go to Avernus with her or be with her at her death... but after that nothing happens. My Astarion talked with Gale (romanced) and that was it.

Spawn Astarion ending instead has this extra scene which I found a bit ridiculous. The first part is heartbreaking, you see Astarion run from the sun and curl into a ball behind some shade, head on his knees. Then Karlach dies alone, because Astarion cannot be in the sun, and you get this extra scene of Astarion in Baldur's Gate killing/attacking a man and living his existence as a vampire. It is strange because in the pre-ending dialogue I chose to go to another city, and in the post ending I chose to go with Gale to Waterdeep, so it felt a bit random.

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

The Purple Sign. Part XI

Self-Aware! Bram Stoker x GN! Reader

Description: There is a Purple Sign on your door. Part XI

Fluff. Bram pampering.

Warning: OOC. English is my second language.

You almost entered your bedroom, when Aya run in your room right before you. She was holding The Purple Sign in her hands. Girl turned her head and hold the sign towards you. You smiled.

"Got it, Aya. So, what do you want to do first?"

But girl shook her head.

"It's not for me. It's for Bra-chan."

You raise an eyebrow. Bram has never used The Purple Sign before.

“Did Bram asked you to do it? To bring The Purple Sign on his behalf?” you felt a need to clarify.

Aya’s smile disappeared. Now she looked like she was caught stealing candy.

“Kind of…”

“Kind of.” Your voice sounded flat. Aya looked away, embarrassed.

“He looked sad. I thought that he needs it.” Girl became quiet.

You leaned towards Aya and softly asked.

“Are you sure? You sure? That Bram needs and wants it?”

She knew that there was one rule about The Purple Sign, which you could never break.

Consent.

Purple Sign was not just a chance to spend time together.

It was a permission for you to “get into” BSD Cast’s personal space, mind and thoughts.

It was their chance to be vulnerable.

You did not accuse Aya of anything right now. You were letting her explain/

Aya stepped from one leg to another and nervously looked at you.

“Last week he was silent. Too silent.” Girl looked at The Purple Sigh. “It wasn’t his normal silence. It was silence from that world… Back in our previous world… He was quiet. Like he didn’t care that he is… was…” you nodded, showing, that you knew, what she wanted to say. Aya looked at you with gratitude. She continue.

“All of us felt broken at least once back there. However, Bra-chan... I just thought… He needs to talk about it. He will not tell me anything. He didn’t want to burden me.”

You closed your eyes. Aya’s sadness looked genuine. She was worried.

Bram became her guardian. Her father.

Oda did his best to look after kids (and teens). But you can’t just treat him as the babysitter.

You took the Purple Sigh from her hands.

“I will go and talk to him”

_______

Basement was dry. It was not cold, but chilly.

You were standing before Bram’s door. On your back, you had your backpack with Purple Sig, your laptop, phone and few pairs of headphones.

You raise your hand and knock.

Silence.

You knocked again. And called.

“Bram, it’s me, [Y/N]!”

Silence. Few soft steps.

And Bram Stocker opened the door.

“Little Bat? Nice to see you.”

Bram’s voice was calm and emotionless (slightly). If you did not knew him, you would assume that he was sarcastic. However, you have knew him for many month. He was happy to see you. His eyes soften for a bit. He slightly lean forward and corners of his lips twitched up.

You wave at him.

“Hey, Bram, got a minute?”

Vampire Lord/Ability User nodded.

“Yes. Do you need something?”

Without second thought, you took off your backpack and take away The Purple Sign. Wooden “accessory” on a neat chain dangled in your hold. Bram raise an eyebrow.

“Aya came to me with this earlier. She said that you need it.”

Bram’s posture changed. He looked more nervous. Not angry. More like someone, who didn’t want to have their secrets revealed.

“Where did she get this idea?” Bram asked. You mentally cheered. It seems that you can make Bram open up a little.

“She told me, that you were silent. As silent as back there… And Neither Aya or I could let our friend feel blue or lost.”

Bram looked away. He looked troubled.

“I am sorry for worrying you two. It was not my intention.”

You sigh quietly. No one wanted to worry anyone. By doing that, they boiled in their sadness. Nevertheless, you loved everyone from BSD Cast.

“I know. Bram, if you want to talk, I am here.”

Bram shift his gaze to the Purple Sigh.

“Or we can simply hang out. You don’t need to open up, if you don’t want to. Just remember, that I am here.”

Vampire took the Sign from your hand and put it on his door.

“Come in, Little Bat.”

_________

Bram was a heating pad. Kind off. He did not breathe, was surprisingly warm for a vampire and his body was softer, than you would expect from a vampire.

You sighed and closed your eyes. You were laying on his chest, while Bram himself was laying in his coffin. Coffin,of course, was open.

Bram was talking.

“I didn’t care about being fictional.” Bram’s chest moved up and down. “I promise, I am not mad about it. But, I am mad, because I remembered about my family.”

You silently nuzzle Bram’s shoulder. You choose to remain silent.

Bram’s long fingers ran through your hair.

“I was alone. A talking head. Do you want to know, why I did not ask Fukuchi to remove the sword?” Bram answered his own question, without letting you speak. “I did not want to go on a rampage.”

Bram chucked. The laugh was bitter.

“And you knew what? I am still dangerous. I still can kill everyone. I am not human!”

Bram looked at you. He whispered.

“Why you are not afraid of me. Little Bat?”

You tilt your head. After few minutes of silence, you spoke.

“I trust you. Our looks or dietary habits didn’t make us human. Our minds, hearts, souls, personality… That is what we called humanity. We change ourselves. We can became better or worse. And you… You are a good person. You are a good father, Bram. And a great friend.”

For a few moments, everything was silent.

Then Bram hug you tighter. He took your hand and lightly kissed your knuckles.

“I needed it, Little Bat. Thank you”

You smile softly.

“You are welcome, Bram”

_________

It was the middle of the night.

You were laying on Bram’s chest.

Your eyes were closed.

.Both of you had headphones on. With help of duel headphone jack, you were listening to music. Together.

Two real persons enjoying mu

sic together. As it should be.

You almost entered your bedroom, when Aya run in your room right before you. She was holding The Purple Sign in her hands. Girl turned her head and hold the sign towards you. You smiled.

"Got it, Aya. So, what do you want to do first?"

But girl shook her head.

"It's not for me. It's for Bra-chan."

You raise an eyebrow. Bram has never used The Purple Sign before.

“Did Bram asked you to do it? To bring The Purple Sign on his behalf?” you felt a need to clarify.

Aya’s smile disappeared. Now she looked like she was caught stealing candy.

“Kind of…”

“Kind of.” Your voice sounded flat. Aya looked away, embarrassed.

“He looked sad. I thought that he needs it.” Girl became quiet.

You leaned towards Aya and softly asked.

“Are you sure? You sure? That Bram needs and wants it?”

She knew that there was one rule about The Purple Sign, which you could never break.

Consent.

Purple Sign was not just a chance to spend time together.

It was a permission for you to “get into” BSD Cast’s personal space, mind and thoughts.

It was their chance to be vulnerable.

You did not accuse Aya of anything right now. You were letting her explain/

Aya stepped from one leg to another and nervously looked at you.

“Last week he was silent. Too silent.” Girl looked at The Purple Sign. “It wasn’t his normal silence. It was silence from that world… Back in our previous world… He was quiet. Like he didn’t care that he is… was…” you nodded, showing, that you knew, what she wanted to say. Aya looked at you with gratitude. She continue.

“All of us felt broken at least once back there. However, Bra-chan... I just thought… He needs to talk about it. He will not tell me anything. He didn’t want to burden me.”

You closed your eyes. Aya’s sadness looked genuine. She was worried.

Bram became her guardian. Her father.

Oda did his best to look after kids (and teens). But you can’t just treat him as the babysitter.

You took the Purple Sign from her hands.

“I will go and talk to him”

_______

Basement was dry. It was not cold, but chilly.

You were standing before Bram’s door. On your back, you had your backpack with Purple Sign, your laptop, phone and few pairs of headphones.

You raise your hand and knock.

Silence.

You knocked again. And called.

“Bram, it’s me, [Y/N]!”

Silence. Few soft steps.

And Bram Stocker opened the door.

“Little Bat? Nice to see you.”

Bram’s voice was calm and emotionless (slightly). If you did not knew him, you would assume that he was sarcastic. However, you have knew him for many month. He was happy to see you. His eyes soften for a bit. He slightly lean forward and corners of his lips twitched up.

You wave at him.

“Hey, Bram, got a minute?”

Vampire Lord/Ability User nodded.

“Yes. Do you need something?”

Without second thought, you took off your backpack and take away The Purple Sign. Wooden “accessory” on a neat chain dangled in your hold. Bram raise an eyebrow.

“Aya came to me with this earlier. She said that you need it.”

Bram’s posture changed. He looked more nervous. Not angry. More like someone, who didn’t want to have their secrets revealed.

“Where did she get this idea?” Bram asked. You mentally cheered. It seems that you can make Bram open up a little.

“She told me, that you were silent. As silent as back there… And Neither Aya or I could let our friend feel blue or lost.”

Bram looked away. He looked troubled.

“I am sorry for worrying you two. It was not my intention.”

You sigh quietly. No one wanted to worry anyone. By doing that, they boiled in their sadness. Nevertheless, you loved everyone from BSD Cast.

“I know. Bram, if you want to talk, I am here.”

Bram shift his gaze to the Purple Sign.

“Or we can simply hang out. You don’t need to open up, if you don’t want to. Just remember, that I am here.”

Vampire took the Sign from your hand and put it on his door.

“Come in, Little Bat.”

_________

Bram was a heating pad. Kind off. He did not breathe, was surprisingly warm for a vampire and his body was softer, than you would expect from a vampire.

You sighed and closed your eyes. You were laying on his chest, while Bram himself was laying in his coffin. Coffin,of course, was open.

Bram was talking.

“I didn’t care about being fictional.” Bram’s chest moved up and down. “I promise, I am not mad about it. But, I am mad, because I remembered about my family.”

You silently nuzzle Bram’s shoulder. You choose to remain silent.

Bram’s long fingers ran through your hair.

“I was alone. A talking head. Do you want to know, why I did not ask Fukuchi to remove the sword?” Bram answered his own question, without letting you speak. “I did not want to go on a rampage.”

Bram chucked. The laugh was bitter.

“And you knew what? I am still dangerous. I still can kill everyone. I am not human!”

Bram looked at you. He whispered.

“Why you are not afraid of me. Little Bat?”

You tilt your head. After few minutes of silence, you spoke.

“I trust you. Our looks or dietary habits didn’t make us human. Our minds, hearts, souls, personality… That is what we called humanity. We change ourselves. We can became better or worse. And you… You are a good person. You are a good father, Bram. And a great friend.”

For a few moments, everything was silent.

Then Bram hug you tighter. He took your hand and lightly kissed your knuckles.

“I needed it, Little Bat. Thank you.”

You smile softly.

“You are welcome, Bram”

_________

It was the middle of the night.

You were laying on Bram’s chest.

Your eyes were closed.

Both of you had headphones on. With help of duel headphone jack, you were listening to music. Together.

Two real persons enjoying music together. As it should be.

[bg-brainrot]

Final winter prompt ! ! Thanks for joining me on the 12 days of the BG3 Holiday Challenge, and shout-out to @justporo and @the-littlest-raindrop for their fluffy challenge ✨

Prompt: New Beginnings

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Premise: As the year comes to an end, you and Astarion have time to reflect on your time together. When Astarion asks you the question, “Do you regret any of it?” he’s surprised at your response.

Tags: POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Holidays, post-canon, new year

Word count: 1k

As the year comes to a close, you spend the last moments of it with your love, cozy on the couch. Astarion’s head is on your lap and his eyes are hazy with warmth as they gaze into the fireplace. “We’ve had quite a year, haven’t we?" he muses. After your hum of agreement, he adds, "So darling, do you regret any of it?”

Your response is immediate. “Gods yes.” 

“What?” he asks, face turning up to you in shock.

“How could I not?” you reply, looking down at his wide red eyes. 

Astarion only continues looking at you, a blank stare doing nothing to hide the concern on his face. 

“Don’t tell me you don’t regret anything, Astarion. That would be ridiculous.” You tap a finger lightly on his forehead and continue, “It certainly hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows.”

“What do you regret?” he asks, red eyes darting between yours. “And does it have anything to do with the handsome vampire in your lap currently?”

You shake your head and gently run a hand through his curls. “Nothing like that–well… maybe.”

“What." he asks again, the word coming out flat. His eyebrows lift high in alarm and you trace them with your fingers before you clarify.

“Let me explain,” you say, as you begin scratching his head in small, soothing circles. “I don’t regret meeting you, falling for you, or anything to do with you. I only regret that we started off so poorly. I feel bad for assuming a lot of things about you.”

Astarion breathes a deep sigh of relief. "Oh. Well then." After digesting what you've said, he purses his lips at you, clearly debating saying something.

"Astarion?"

He releases the purse of his lips only to turn his head away from you, back to the fire. "It's nothing. I'm pondering other possibilities."

"Like?" you press gently, fingers tickling his ear in a few gentle strokes.

Astarion shudders under your light touch and responds, "I wonder what you might have done had I been honest from the start."

You consider his words briefly, mindlessly twirling a finger through his hair. "It's hard to say. If I'm being honest with myself, I might have fallen all the faster."

His red eyes turn back to you slightly, hesitantly. "Really?" 

"Yes, I think so. I kept telling myself not to fall for you because of how bad of a liar you were."

"Really?" He repeats, now incredulous. "Not the fact that I was lying to you? Or that I am a vampire?"

You chuckle at his questions, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck now. "Oh no, that's all fine," you say with an air of nonchalance that comes from a place of honesty. "Lying is expected of a rogue, vampires are just another part of life in the Gate. But bad liars? Well, that's near unforgivable."

"My love, have I told you that you have an odd way of showing your affection?" He turns back to look at you, his curls looking quite mused by all of your delicate attention. It reminds you of rustled feathers and it's all you can do not to laugh. "And now you're laughing at me?"

At that, you do laugh. "What can I say, my lover is funny. One of the reasons he’s so charming."

Astarion's annoyed facade slips at that, as a small, reluctant smile begins to curl up. He can't help it when you praise him so easily and openly. After a beat, he says, "I, however, have no regrets. I've decided I don't think I could ever have been honest with you."

"Mm, why's that?" you ask, beginning to brush his curls back into place.

"Well, aside from the obvious, like the risk of being staked in the heart, needing protection…" he closes his eyes as you continue to pet. "Lying meant that you were more curious about me. You'd come ask me questions, prod about. I quite liked that."

"You're saying you'd lie poorly again, just for the attention?" you ask, furrowing your brows at his ridiculous statement.

He nods, bumping your hand with his nose, taking a second to press a kiss to your fingertip. "Oh yes, darling. Never underestimate the power of a good mystery."

"I wasn't curious, Astarion. I was more cautious, concerned," you say with a snort.

Now he shrugs, as if it's a mere technicality. "Whatever got you to my tent, I suppose."

You're about to retort, tell him that only he would see that as a win, but you're cut off by the chiming of your clock. 

At the first chime, Astarion opens his eyes and jolts up, as if struck by something.

At the second chime, he turns toward you, grasping your hands in his.

For the third and fourth chimes, he smiles at you lovingly and says, "Happy New Year, darling."

During the fifth and sixth chimes, you reply back, with an equally adoring smile, "Happy New Year, love."

At the seventh chime, your lips meet in a tender kiss. 

Chimes eight through twelve are spent in embrace of each other's arms, kissing each other over and over again with each ring of the clock.

When you finally pull apart, now many minutes into the new year, you look into Astarion's eyes. No amount of regrets or what-if’s could pull you away from this moment, from his arms, and his love. “I’m fairly certain I won’t have any regrets this year,” you say to him, rubbing a thumb across his knuckles. 

“Why’s that?”

“Because I’m entering it by your side.” 

Ringing in the year with your love for the first time, experiencing an entire winter together for the first time, looking forward to your future together– it all brings you a sense of peace you haven’t had in a long time. And, while you no longer have a tadpole to connect your thoughts, you can see that very same serenity in your lover’s eyes. You hope to experience many, many more years like this.

[andreal831]

TVDU and Morality

I've recently said, a few times, that the morality debates in the TVDU fandom are boring, and some people have gotten offended so I thought I would explain.

First, this idea of hypocrisy in the fandom is laughable. The amount of times I've been called a hypocrite because I've called out problematic behavior, while also liking a problematic character. The gut reaction for so many in this fandom when their favorite character is being criticized is to shift the conversation onto a completely different character and even to the commenter themselves. This is boring and even downright offensive at times. Every single character has been a hypocrite at times. It doesn't inherently mean someone is bad. It means they are "human" and life can make hypocrites of all of us at times. Also, just to clarify, I am not a hypocrite for merely liking a problematic character. I promise I have never nor will I ever commit the acts that I criticize these characters for, which would be the definition of hypocrisy. I have also never told anyone they can't like certain characters.

We have these complicated characters and none of them are "good" people because, guess what, people aren't just one or the other. Everyone has the capability to be "bad" or "good." Trying to put a character firmly on one side is a generalization and ignores so much nuance. Some of their actions may be completely bad or completely good, but typically even that is an oversimplification. Are there characters that seem to do more bad things or more good things, definitely. Are their some characters that cross certain, unnecessary lines, absolutely. Are we allowed to criticize and question every character, please do! That's literally what media literacy is about.

Every single one of these characters has had completely selfish moments (except maybe Bonnie) and every single one of them has had moments of selflessness. These acts don't inherently demonize a character or automatically redeem one. This is what it means to have interesting, complex debates about characters. Looking at the characters as a whole and having open discussions of what it means. We can still love the character and acknowledge the good and the bad of the character.

Another annoying point that is always brought up is, "they weren't born evil, they were made that way." Yes, we get it. No one is born evil. Whether it is mental illness or life events that shape a person, they still have to take responsibility for their own actions. Obviously certain mental illnesses didn't have treatments for a very long time, but that doesn't just allow people to be serial killers.

Every single character has dealt with trauma, and how you react says a lot about a person's character. Separating out characters to say well "x" didn't deserve it but when they became "x" they did. No one deserves good or bad things. I know I say it all the time, they deserved better, but when I do, I'm being facetious. I'm saying I wanted better for that character, better writing, better storylines, a better ending, etc. That phrasing implies that some people deserve better lives than others and I just morally don't agree. No one deserves trauma or abuse. That logic only furthers the cycle of abuse. Now, that being said, people are responsible for their own actions. Spend centuries creating enemies, and guess what, a lot of bad things are going to happen to you.

But the real debates I enjoy having, and have been fortunate to find so many people to engage in these debates, is the morality of the decisions in context of the characters. I like to apply similar logic from the Trolley Problem. If you don't know what that is, enjoy this tik tok I made of Cami teaching the Mikaelsons.

Essentially, many of the characters weight their options, like Jeremy killing Kol and thousands of vampires with it in order to find the cure. Kol is a thousand year old serial killer and is attempting to kill Jeremy, but again Kol is attempting to stop Silas from rising. Neither side is inherently right or wrong. There is a debate to be had.

In the majority of situations in the show there is a debate to be had. The only exceptions being any SA. I will never debate the morality of these actions. Even for immoral characters, there is a line to be drawn.

These debates get even more complex in TO because we move into a world where nearly every character has done absolutely horrendous things. It's okay to sit down and say, "This thing that x did was awful, but I can see their reasoning." It is not justifying their actions, but allowing the characters to be the complex morally corrupt characters that they all are.

[donnapalude]

What I really can't wait to see in season 2 is how they will handle the dynamic between Louis and Claudia after they kill Lestat.

Right now they are both using him as a recipient and scapegoat for all their tensions and frustrations. Disclaimer: I of course think he has behaved horribly and deserves everything that they will throw at him. However, looking at Louis and Claudia's personalities and interactions, I find it interesting that - in their obvious love for each other - in a twisted way they still need Lestat to function together.

When Claudia first realizes the actual consequences of her vampirism, she gets mad at both Louis and Lestat. She later forgives Louis because she deems him more deserving of her love. But I think the reason she is able to do that is also that she has a place where to put all her hate and anger cleanly and without remorse: Lestat.

Louis, on the other hand, hates himself terribly and always has. I am not saying that Lestat's recent actions didn't contribute to his unhappiness, but it's pretty clear that he has been inching towards depression and suicidal thoughts since before his turning. The only way he has found for dealing with his current brand of self-hatred without consuming himself completely is to turn almost every negative thing he feels about himself onto Lestat. Everything ugly and twisted and wrong in his life becomes Lestat's fault. The more he hates himself, the more resentful and violent he becomes towards Lestat. I am not surprised that the writers decided to place Louis' decision to kill Lestat at the end of his depressive spiral. Of course in part he is killing him to actually get rid of him. But I think it's pretty clear that subconsciounsly he is also hoping to kill the part of himself he hates.

Moreover, both of Louis and Claudia feel a sense of anger and despair at being so lost in the world and so alone, so isolated. Their humanness stripped away and no one of their kind to understand, apart from Lestat. He is their maker and this makes him almost a stand-in parent figure in context. Both Louis and Claudia are in the youth of their vampiric lives. And when we are young and facing the world for the first time and finding ourselves unprepared, what do we do but blame our parents? We blame them for their failures - that's true - but also for not being able to be the omniscient, omnipotent force we once believed. We blame them for the shattering of every illusion of safety we ever felt.

Just to clarify again, I fully believe that a lot of the blame Lestat is shouldering is deserved and stems from his own actions. But precisely for this reason, he has also become a very easy way for Louis and Claudia to not confront each other and themselves.

So, where will this leave Louis and Claudia when they are alone? When they have no one to blame anymore for every single thing that goes wrong in the world and between the two of them? I am super excited to find out.

[webanglikethat]

My writing: “I want to save myself from this friendship even tho it feels like I’ve sold myself to keep this friendship”

— based on this message one of my best friends sent me. (not about me tho!!!!)

𐙚⭑𓂃────────𓂃⭑𐙚𐙚⭑𓂃────────

after all these months, one truth resides in the graveyard of your deception. I’ve given every last drop of my blood for you, but you were a vampire who couldn’t get enough — well, not of me, I’ll clarify that in your place so don’t worry. I won’t stain your name with mine, so you can live as if you didn’t desecrate the temple of my body, as if you didn’t slain my head.

fact is, you couldn’t get enough of my begging, 

of the white in my eyes matching 

the white on my skin. 

you craved my pleas, my cries so raw, 

devouring each whimper, each agonizing draw.

your thirst was unquenchable for my agony's flow,

drinking in my terror with a sinister yet sweet glow.

my heart was a canvas for your morbid design,

and now all there’s left is a fine line.

what is an artist, if not a madden man?

what is love, if not a comical shattered land? 

you craved to see me crumble, drop after drop, as you watched it descend like a greedy tourist 

that admired the Niagara Falls. 

(or maybe that is just my selfish wishful thinking, 

to be loved by you like I’m some kind of tourist attraction and not a mere distraction, and for this to not always be a mere spectacle but a full love transaction. to be cherished without hesitation and not just viewed through a lens of fascination. I yearn to be your everything, your glove, but I fear I'm just a passing thought thereof.

i longed to be seen, not just as a sight,

but as a living creature cherished by you, 

bathed in your sweet love's light.

a person, a soul or a spirit within,

but in your eyes, i was the monster, the sin.

you painted me as darkness and as the beast,

until all my beauty was deceased.

a graveyard of my being, a funeral of my own, 

as you reveled in the terror you yourself have sown.

i sold my light for you, 

yet you blew the candles.

i offered my glow, 

but you extinguished it eagerly leaving emptiness to grow.

i would’ve given you all of my midnights, 

all of my 11:11, every star's soft highlights.

every wish and every candle, 

i offered to you on a platter,

but you dismissed them all, 

leaving my heart shattered.

but i continued and offered my heart on a platter

with the blood still fresh and warm 

so in the winter you wouldn’t freeze 

because even then? you’re all i wanted to please.

(but in the end, it was my soul that felt the squeeze.)

but instead of tenderness, you chose to scorn, 

ripping it apart, like flesh and hope. 

bloodied hands and a twisted grin, 

leaving me hollow, beneath my skin. 

yet, i still would’ve kissed your dimple, 

even as your cruelty made my heart tremble.

you never were a monster to me,

even as you bared my veins free. 

“but stain me with your blood 

and I'll repent because it wasn't mine that spread”

this is what I had promised you as you forced me to fled. (I no longer have a homeland) 

but what else can i sell to make you stay,

when all my deals have turned gray? 

shall i start a fire with the flow of my tears 

that, akin to boiling water, weave agony 

onto my dear body’s fears? 

if i tear my flesh and burn it on an altar’s pew,

will you finally grasp the depth of my rue?

will you care or leave me bare? 

as crimson rivers flow and flesh turns to ash,

will you stay by my side, or leave in a dash?

if you’re an empty cup, i am the burned cloth,

ragged, torn apart, in torment, I'm loath.

yet, still — i wash you, though my threads fray,

even as my essence begins to decay.

in your emptiness, i find my role,

a martyr to love, a broken soul.

you’re the spilt milk, the stain that won't fade, 

and i am the sponge, absorbing memories in vain.

i rip open pieces of my body as a desperate attempt,

to search for the good in me but it is all unkempt.

all which greets me are inutile streams of my blood and fragments of my flesh, and your face, haunting, refusing to delete or refresh.

you, you, you

you linger in every corner and every cell of my being,

transported in every blood cell — a residing evil unseeing.

you promised the world 

then put its weight on my shoulders 

and I mistook it for a gift, 

like some kind of stockholder. 

you, you, you

the problem remains that I'd hold your burning body with its flesh melting off the bone and the smell of tender muscle in the air, because maybe maybe maybe then you'd love me, maybe then you'd see the depths of my care, the extent of my love’s despair.

as your skin would char and peel in the searing heat,

i would hold you close like a dear treat. the flames would lick at your skin, and i would be jealous of them. (yearning for the touch that leads to your doom? or yearning for the touch in which love could bloom?) if I cannot be the cure, should I be the poison? and if I cannot heal, should I destroy and rejoice? 

with each blistering pain i’d whisper my love away like a desperate refrain. i would remain, i would remain, i would remain. and there would be nothing for me to gain. forever a maid in your tyrannical reign. 

yet still, i would cling to hope in the flames' cruel dance, for even as I burn all i would worry about is your body temperature’. for even as I suffer consumed by the flame's roar, your well-being would be the love i still fiercely adore. i would burn myself to keep you warm, give you my last breath, my last touch, my last word, my end. but i wasn’t even mentioned in the footnotes of your life, so what a fk silent fife.

in the final moments as the flames engulf my soul,

i am left with the bitter truth, that i’ll never be whole.

for in loving you, i lost Myself, as if i was some kind of forgotten note on a bookshelf.

i sold my own true Self to entertain Your theater,

i danced to your tune, played the role you assigned,

but in the end, it was my own soul I resigned.

i was but a puppet, trapped in your lies.

i sold Myself for you but what did I gain?

nothing but heartache, nothing but pain.

yet, yet, yet (the story begins again)

i care not for my wings of wax, 

nor the fragility of each leap's tracks.

nor the physics of this realm's flow,

nor the low success rates that show.

if i shatter because i lack you near,

what difference does it make if i disappear?

i’d rather fall and turn to ash after having you near,

(even if just for a minute, a second, a fleeting cheer)

but i will never be the same, 

for i have learned that your love 

will always be just a game.

apollo, your icarus awaits you. 

𐙚⭑𓂃────────𓂃⭑𐙚𐙚⭑𓂃───────

note: thanks for reading this if you can see this <3 I don’t expect anyone to read this or care, but if you’re here it means we are gonna get married actually 😼😼 also I’m never trying to rhyme again

[lostbetweenvampiresandmusic]

Ok, i got one. AU where Lost Boys the movie exists, inspired by those events actually occurring in the 80s. So it'd be like 12 & 13 with reader x Marko? Maybe the reader's a serial killer or something dead like a Ghoul or Zombie, and after a showing of Lost Boys in Santa Carla, they take a soon to be victim to the cave, and then end up just fucking the victims shit up. Little does the reader know, the cave isn't a abandoned as they had thought, and Marko falls in love the second reader disembowels the guy.

(Not me hitting post instead of edit😅) Thanks so much for the request! It got a bit darker than i expected, but it was an interesting one to figure out, so I hope you'll like this as well!💜

12. "I shouldn't have seen that movie..."

13. "Did you know this cave is haunted?"

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

I smiled as the familiar sounds of Cry Little Sister blared through the sound system, echoing over the beach. At least a hundred people had gathered here to watch the movie, and I couldn't be more pleased. You see, in my profession, it was of utmost importance to stay inconspicuous. Stay invisible within the crowds, stay out of sight whenever someone was looking for something - or rather someone. And, above all, have a good eye. It takes skill to know how certain people will respond when you first approach them. To calculate their next moves. If you fail in approaching the right person, you're whole job is going to be ruined.

Luckily, I was good at what I did. So, with two beers in hand, I smiled at a guy in his early" twenties. He seemed carefree, easy going - the perfect type.

"Mind if I sit with you?" I asked sweetly, offering a beer as an exchange for the favour, and as a conversation started.

"No, no, pretty ones like you can join me anytime," the guy winked, causing me to grin. Yeah. He would do perfectly.

We sat together the whole movie, chatting and laughing, and when the movie came to an end, I knew I had the guy wrapped around my finger. It had been easy. Agree with him, initiate some physical touch - and here he was, willing to follow me anywhere.

As he helped me up, a wonderful idea popped into my head. "Do you want to check out the caves?"

"Wait, they're real?"

I nodded. "Not too far from here. It's supposed to be pretty secluded," I said with a wink, causing the guy to grin and readily agree.

Together, we walked over the beach and through the forest - it was not very far, just 3 miles or so, but far enough to tire a guy like him out for just a little bit.

"Can we stop for a bit?" He asked, out of breath, as we reached a clearing. I shook my head, pointing at the 'do not enter' sign.

"There's no need, we're here."

"It says not to enter."

I nodded. "So?"

"I- listen, I like you, a lot and I would love to do more but - I don't think this is my thing?"

I smiled. "Sorry. I should have clarified what I wanted first. We don't have to do anything, but I would love it if you joined me if we went to explore that cave."

"Just exploring?"

"Yeah. The second we see something that's off, we're out of there. I promise."

The guy thought for a moment, sighing deeply before nodding. "Alright."

I grinned, taking his hand and leading him down the stairs. He didn't need to know that I had been here several times before during the day, exploring to see whether this would be a good secondairy location or not. Needless to say, I declared it to be a good one.

"Did you know," I stated as we stood at the cave entrance, " that this cave is haunted?"

The guys eyes widened. "Are you sure?"

"That's what they say anyways. They also say that there are actual vampires here, but we both know that that's bullshit, right?" I grinned. Who knows whether or not they existed, as far as I could tell, they weren't living in the cave.

"I- I am not sure about this -" the guy began again, and by now, I had to admit that I lost my patience. So, with a gentle nudge, I pushed him inside. He screamed as he rolled through the entrance, falling on the floor several feet below. I heard a loud, sickening crack, and I knew that his leg had broken when he cried out. Easily, I jumped in after him, landing on my feet next to his body.

"What did you do that for?"

"What?" I asked innocently, ignoring his terrified expression. "You're not really telling me that you're scared?"

"What if I am, hm?" The guy asked. "I never should have seen that movie..."

"That we can agree on," I crouched down beside him, taking a sharp knife out of my coat pocket. "If you hadn't been there, I wouldn't have picked you up."

"Wh - what are you going to do?"

"Me? I'm going to have some fun. I've been told I need to study up on my biology. You are my practice material."

"What?!" The guy paled. "You can't do this! You- HELP, SOMEBODY!"

"No one will hear you," I smiled, "I thought I told you this place was rather secluded, hm?"

"Let me go, you freak!"

I chuckled, swiftly moving my knife down, cutting his hand off in one swift movement. The guy screamed and cried, bleeding all over the floor as he tried to crawl away. Lazily, I walked after him, my foot landing on his back, stopping him in his crawl.

"Turn over."

"No!"

"Don't make me turn you over. You'll regret it."

The guy weakly turned, laying on his back. "Good boy," I said before kneeling down on top of him. I talked to him while I acted, explaining how I would drag my knife from his throat all the way to his navel, how I would slowly but surely take every single organ out. The more I talked, the deeper I cut, the quieter his screams became. In the end, all that was left was an empty vessel, the insides spread around the cave.

I stood up, ready to go outside, when I saw a young man staring at me. He looked at me, not with fear but with admiration. A childlike wonder. "You did quite a number on him."

I shrugged. "He had it coming. Who are you?"

"I'm Marko. What did he do?" I looked at him, trying to determine if I would tell or kill him. He was handsome, but somewhere behind his cool look, I knew that I was no longer the only killer in the room. There was something about him.

"Besides annoying me with his existence? He sold drugs to some middle schoolers."

"So, do you avenge people often?"

"Why do you ask?" I looked at him, my knife still in hand. He grinned.

"Because after seeing this, I think I'm in love."

[lananakay]

Have you been watching AMC's adaptation of "Interview With the Vampire?" Have you read the book(s)? If not, you may not know that Anne's vampires are on the Asexual spectrum! You also may have noticed that in AMC's adaptation...them vampires be F***in on the regs! This is one part of the adaptation that I don't mind, but don't necessarily love. You may be thinking "but Lana! I read the books and those vampires are NOT asexual, they have sex all the time!" Are you sure about that? Are. You. Sure. About. That?

Like everything in this world, asexuality is on a spectrum. Different orientations fall under the asexual umbrella. If you are interested, here is a short introduction. If you would like to see a more in-depth list of orientations, you can find it HERE.

Pictured Above: Lestat Rejecting the sexual advances of groupies before draining them. (Circa the 2002 adaptation of "Queen Of The Damned")

I am Graysexual.

Sometimes referred to as “gray ace” people who are greysexual are primarily asexual. However, these members of the asexual community may enjoy sexual behavior under very specific circumstances, or they might experience sexual interest on rare occasions.

IMPORTANT: Please Read Below

“Asexuality is different from abstinence, where someone chooses to not have sexual contact regardless of their sexual urges. Someone with an asexual identity is not necessarily someone who has never engaged in sex...(asexuality)is also considered a type of sexual orientation. It is important to clarify that asexuality is not a medical or mental condition or diagnosis. It is a sexual orientation in the same way that homosexuality, bisexuality, and pansexuality are.” – Talkspace therapist Bisma Anwar, LMHC

I've gotta work on having long ass intros. Anyway...I've always loved that Anne's vampires were on the spectrum. I loved how the connections, romances, and intimacies weren't predicated on sex.

I find it surprising whenever I run into VC readers who've missed or not picked up on the asexual themes in the series because 1. it's explicitly stated in almost all the books in one form or another, and 2. It makes me realize how many people don't fully understand what Asexuality is as an orientation.

May times people will cite that there is sex in the books and thus negates that the vampires are Asexual. What they are forgetting is that not having sexual desire does not mean you can not or do not have sex. I know we've all heard of people having sex when they don't feel like it. Just because you consent and willingly participate does not mean you are aroused or even want to.

Some asexual people have allosexual partners and engage in physical intimacies up to and including intercourse to satisfy their partners. On the flip side of that, others may not enjoy intercourse but enjoy other forms of physical intimacy that don't include genitalia. Again, it's a spectrum. I like the idea of sex but don't like engaging in it. I enjoy watching, reading, and listening to porn, and any sexual satisfaction need I'd prefer to address on my own.

It also seems that a lot of people don't know the difference between sex and romance. Sexual orientation and romantic orientation are two different things. Just because a person is asexual does not mean that they aromantic. I am Hetero-romantic. Most of the vampires in the books are Bi/Pan-romantic.

Romantic Orientation: also called affectional orientation, is the classification of the sex or gender which a person experiences romantic attraction towards.

Romantic Attraction: attraction that makes people desire romantic contact or interaction with another person or persons.

Going back to people not knowing the difference between sex and romance, this is one of the reasons why I loved the asexuality of the vampires in this world. For me, when reading the books there was an extra layer of truth in their emotions knowing they weren't forged in lust, but something deeper. It made them seem that much more non-human. More, in control. More above a mortal life. It also deeply enhanced the physical displays of affection that did happen.

Also, It really frustrated me soooo much when Claudia was raped by Bruce. It broke some of the fantasy of the VC world in my view...That there was at least one thing you wouldn't have to worry about with a vampire. Yeh, they might kill you, but they would never violate you. Plus it's lazy writing. You can have a female character go out into the world and be traumatize without raping her. It reinforces the whole "you need a man around to stop other men from hurting you" thing and it's kindaicky.

It also kind of...cheapened the love between Lestat and Louis. At times it made Lestat's actions seem sexually motivated, which isn't how he operates. Especially when he did the whole "Let's have an open relationship so I can screw who I want but when you do it I'm going to get jealous and have a problem with it." thing. It reduced Lestat to a stereotypical asshole that thinks with his dick. Mixing love and sex always leaves you wondering if the love is true.

Now that last statement has gotten me in trouble a in the past so uh...

I do not think that relationships are diminished, illegitimate, or otherwise untrue inherently because they are sexual. I say this from an asexual point of view where I've regularly heard people say/post the following:

"if you're not having sex with them, then why are you with them?"

"If you're not having sex then you're nothing more than friends."

"if they stop having sex with me (or if the sex isn't good) I'll just divorce them or cheat."

"if you're not having sex with me, you don't love me"

As a person (specifically a woman) who has very low sexual interest but still has romantic interest, it makes me side-eye people a LOT. Movies/books/TV and even real life put sooo much emphasis on sex in relationships that it makes one question their authenticity. The books were a nice departure from that.

Now some people have suggested that there hasn't actually been any sex in the series thus far and that I'm just assuming there is based on context. But, no. It was said several times. Here are 3 examples:

annnnnd everybody's favorite!

Now, to cite my sources! Here are several references that brought me to my conclusion of asexuality in the books.

After drinking Akasha's blood in QOTD Lestat looks himself over and notes the following-

"And the organ, the organ we don't need poised as if ready for what it would never again know how to do, or want to do, marble, a Priapus at a gate."

Which means one of two things to me. Either strong vampires always have an erection 24/7 or it just happens after they feed because of the blood flowing through them...either way, it explains this quote from chapter 2 of "The Vampire Armand".

"I put my hand between his legs. Oh, he was so wonderfully hard." -(Human Armand about Marius) 

Then in chapter 3: when human Armand tries engaging in intercourse with the vampire Marius, Marius says:

"haven't you lain with me enough to know what I can and cannot enjoy?"

When first brining this up online, several people pointed out that in the book "Pandora", Marius and Pandora have penetrative sex, and thus dispelling the asexual theory. However, Anne Rice is quite consistent, even this novel. During this scene Pandora asks Marius to:

"Fill me and hold me".

Marius responds with

"This is stupid and superstitious"

She then very clearly states that it is not for pleasure but the symbolism of connection.

"it is symbolic and comforting"...our bodies were one, connected by this sterile organ which was no more to him now than his arm.

Others also point out that in "Tale of the Body Thief" one of the first things Lestat does is have sex. He also eats. lmao! My point is that the whole reason for switching bodies was to be mortal again and do mortal things. Sex for pleasure is a very mortal thing.

In conclusion. I'm ace and I think that's one reason why I loved Anne's vampires so much. I was a little disappointed that they didn't stick with that in the adapted series but whatevs, it doesn't ruin the show for me.!

[streussal]

on Armand/Daniel(/Louis)

So there's a very popular theory that TV Armand & Daniel had a romantic relationship in the 70s that Daniel does not remember due to having his memory wiped. (Since they were involved in the books.) According to this theory, Armand is (or at least was) madly in love with Daniel, and the memory erasure was for Daniel's own good, to help him have a normal human life and get over his obsession with vampires. (There's also variants on this theory involving a throuple situation with Louis.) Prior to s2 starting I was pretty neutral on this. I didn't see any evidence of it in s1, but all the s1 Dubai scenes were from Daniel's point of view. We never saw Armand or Louis without Daniel also in the room. Since Armand was putting on his "Rashid" act the whole time, we couldn't really get a full handle on his personality (though there were some definite indications).

But after seeing the s2 premiere, I really doubt the existence of any past romantic relationship between the two of them. (Unless you count biting on the night of the interview. Maybe a threesome with Louis at the most - and it would have been Louis centred.)

My reasoning: when Armand tells Louis to end the interview, Louis says "no" and then Armand has to clarify "Put him back on a plane is what I mean". Because Louis thought that Armand meant "end the interview by killing Daniel". And I just do not think that Louis would need that clarified if Armand actually cared about Daniel.

I guess it's not impossible, since in the IWTV book Armand claimed to love his human pet Denis and killed him after getting together with Louis. Assuming some version of Denis existed in the show timeline, it's possible that Louis thinks of Armand & Daniel's hypothetical relationship as something like that of Armand & Denis's. But if that were true, wouldn't Armand erasing Daniel's memory out of love (rather than killing him) indicate to Louis that this situation wasn't like the one with Denis??

The only explanation I can think of is that Louis was also somehow unaware of Armand & Daniel's hypothetical relationship, which is just too big a stretch for me. What, did Armand erase Louis's memory of this?? There's a limit to how far a show can push missing memories without becoming ridiculous. Did Armand/Daniel happen while Armand & Louis were broken up for a few years? I find it hard to believe that Louis would not have found out about the relationship over the past several decades.

I mean I guess if the throuple theory was true, and Louis interpreted things as him caring more about Daniel than Armand did, then maybe this could make sense? Still a stretch, but a slightly smaller one. But then canon 70s throuple Daniel/Louis/Armand also sounds pretty unlikely! (but awesome)

(...actually a canon past Louis/Daniel relationship also makes more sense to me with the "Armand having to clarify he does not plan to kill Daniel" aspect. But I am admittedly biased as a Louis/Daniel shipper.)

(It's entirely possible for a future Armand/Daniel relationship with old man Daniel! Which could be very fun. But as it stands I find a PAST actual relationship between them pretty implausible.)

[hazzybat]

While looking for a new pfp i found other photos and I have comments

What the fuck is that face you cute bastard? Idiot man. Fuck I love you so much

Dandys?????? What the fuck is this for?? Who's that person on here with the old timy AU I love and think is dope? They should like this.

Also they all look super dope like this. Like Jure and Jan look killer and Nace looks a bit like a hot vampire.

This fucking coat. To quote my sister "it looks like he skinned an ottoman" (the footstool just to clarify)

I think it looks like curtain scraps.

I genuinely don't know if I love or hate it. It's so chaotic and somehow in very boring colours. Stupid man. I hate him.

Bonus:

I just like this image. I am also a sucker for Bojan what can I say.

[cherrynwinesk]

Ok hear me out-

happy Halloween first off all

SECOND,I WANT A VAMPIRE!CELLBIT FANFIC CAUSE ITS HALLOWEEN...

🍒: Too late for Halloween but I still want to write something scary (⁠ﾉﾟ⁠0ﾟ⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠~

As u sleep ~ Cellbit

Story g: horror (no love), not safe

Language: English/Inglés

⚠️: supernatural creatures, blood, murders, horror. This is too violent, minors or sensitive people do not read, NOT SAFE, ONLY +18, (no sex, only violence)

CC's: Cellbit, Pac mention

Reader g: Neutral reader

📝: All the content is fictitious and an attempt is made to adapt the PUBLIC personality of the cc's, that is, the personality that is shown in front of cameras, I do not know the true personality and any resemblance to reality is mere coincidence.

🍒: Hello, writing requests are always open, if you want something in particular, ask without fear. I clarify that English is not my main language, I apologize for any error and accept corrections to improve the quality of the content pt.2

Master List

Autumn had begun and you had just arrived in the city, starting a new stage of your life after not having found a job in your hometown after graduating from university, walking through completely unfamiliar streets at noon. While waiting for the traffic light to give way to pedestrians, a black-haired boy stood next to you, looking at his cell phone, completely distracted from his surroundings. "Hey how are you!?"

You were able to recognize him, he was a classmate of yours from university that you hadn't seen in a long time, his name was Pac, you didn't have much contact with him but you remember him perfectly participating in some classes.

"Hello, very good and what are you doing here?"

And you ended up walking around while talking about how life had treated u, apparently Pac ended up working for the government courts, he lived in an apartment shared with a friend and that he was on his day off. Meanwhile, you talked to him about how you had not been able to work in your specialty, and that you had left the nest looking for other alternatives to improve your quality of life, but that for the moment you were looking for a place to stay or maybe get a roommate so that the rent of an apartment does not fall completely on your shoulders. Pac told you that he had a friend who was looking for a roommate precisely because of the rent, if you were interested he could introduce you to him and you felt a momentary relief. You accepted and he took you to the nearest hospital, with Pac's identification u were able to enter the operating room areas, you walked to the end of the hallway where there was a sign with "Morgue", you entered and the place was very cold, your arms had goosebumps the moment you enter. You passed by several desks to the end of the place where there were some huge metal refrigerators, and there was a boy, dressed in a completely white insulating suit, white latex gloves that were now red, and with this a scalpel. "Cellbit I want to introduce you to a friend" The boy turned around revealing the body on the metal table, completely open from his chest, from that distance you could not see the body well, you only saw how the skin was stretched with hooks outwards, leaving the center free to be able to work. "Hello, I'm sorry, allow me a moment," the blue eyed boy wiped off the blood a little and took off his latex gloves, "Nice to meet you, I'm Cellbit" he held out his hand to you as he introduced himself with a nice smile. "Nice to meet you, y/n." "I'm sorry you know me so dirty and working, if Pac had told me you were coming I would have kept the body. Does it make you uncomfortable?" "No, I am fine Thank you" "And what do you think of the apartments in the northern part of the city?" You looked at Pac "I haven't told him anything" he told you in response to your look. "Who said about apartments?" "Well, Pac was one of the only people I mentioned to that he was looking for a roommate and a few days later he's here introducing me to a person I didn't even know he knew." "Logical" "The place I found is cheap, it has a living room, a kitchen, two bedrooms, we would only share the bathroom, it is very spacious, maybe if you want to go see it before making a decision, tell me and I'll take you" And so it happened, you both agreed on a date and time to go see the available apartment, the place was good, very nice and comfortable in fact, it was spacious but not huge. You hadn't secured a job yet but from what you knew Cellbit works all day at the morgue, so maybe you would only see each other at night or in the mornings. You began the move, the apartment was already furnished so it was only necessary to have each person's personal things. In less than a week you got a job where the pay was good and you felt comfortable with the place. Your relationship with Cellbit was very good, a friendship of trust and security was immediately formed when you found in the same home, sometimes if one of the two cooked and there was a little food left over you would share it or agree to buy a burger on Saturday night. Of course, you never ate in the dining room together, most of the time Cellbit took his food to his bedroom and ate there. And you understood it, his work was very tiring and most likely he wanted his space. Because you were good friends, Cellbit gave you a special hospital pass so you could enter the morgue without any problem. So one Friday morning you agreed to go to the supermarket together to buy what they needed for the apartment. You would go that same day at night so after leaving work you went to the hospital, you went deep inside to look for your friend.

pt.2

[gunraekae]

love transcending time - aka ikevamp unnecessarily narrated

>ikemen vampire

>everyone x reader

>a/n: dont mind me just leaving my cave to post this

trust i have a headcanon style post in the works and uploaded sometime in the next week or so, i'm just a bit overwhelmed with term papers and stuff sorryyy

enjoy and have a wonderful day dear

Chapter II: The Banquet

At the foot of the staircase was the mysterious gentleman I encountered at the Louvre. He gave a pointed glance to the men. At the sight of him, a wave of relief surged through me and I ran down the staircase towards him. 

“It’s you!” I hurried down and stopped short in front of him. Suddenly remembering my composure, I clarified the situation, “Pardon, but do you remember me? We met in front of the ‘Coronation of Napoleon’ and you helped me.” 

 I was met with a warm smile, “Of course I remember you.” Alright, I can ask him about an exit—any exit—and I can get a ride back to my aunt. 

Before I could ask him for directions, my saviour “Leon,” stepped in between us. “She says she came here through your door. Did you bring her?” His tone, and the way he hid me from the prying eyes of everyone, all of it feels as if he was… protecting me. 

“I did not. I can give you my oath if you wish,” the gentleman mused, “her arrival is just as surprising to me.” 

“Then how did she get here?” Although the men didn’t seem hostile, what they were talking about still made me uneasy. What did they mean by “his” door? And why did they talk about “my arrival” as if it was an impossible feat? Where even am I? I don’t understand at all. Something is very wrong here. I just need to get out. At the new wave of apprehension, I remember my aunt. She must be so worried. How long has it even been? I rummaged around my pocket for my phone. 2:50 pm. No signal. What is going on? 

I found the last ounce of courage I had and interjected, “You’ve been very kind, but I really can’t stay. I was supposed to meet up with someone. We’re still in the 1st arrondissement, yes? Where the Louvre is? That door there, does it lead outside?” I asked my questions rapidly before anyone could interrupt me. 

His expression turned difficult, “Hmm… I’m afraid the answers you seek will only confuse you more.” My pleading gaze met the gentleman’s golden eyes. “This isn’t the place for a long discussion, however. Would you join me for dinner, chère?” I asked a yes or no question. Any rationality left in my mind crumbled, and it seemed to show on my face, as the gentleman hurriedly added, “Tonight’s banquet is a rare occasion for us. But afterward, I will answer all your questions. S’il vous plait.” With a sigh, I resigned myself to his wishes. After all, if there was any person who knew my predicament, it was him. 

Having owned a travel blog, I’d been to many hotels, from the hidden gems to the 5-star establishments, I’d seen it all. The gentleman’s dining room was unlike anything I’d ever seen. A stretching room with a long, clothed table with fourteen high-backed wooden chairs framing it. The mahogany walls had intricate wooden carvings around the high ceiling, and a warm atmosphere coated the room with the chandeliers and the candelabras. Four men were already seated. 

The beautiful pianist with the sharp tongue sat at the far end, secluded from the others. He was true to his statement from before—he truly looked displeased in being here. 

Around the centre of the table sat two men beside each other. 

“Must’ve been something pretty important to keep us waiting here. One second longer and I would’ve left.” The first man’s voice was familiar, being the Englishman’s companion in the hallway I entered. His husky voice, with the Dutch accent, matched his appearance—domineering and brusque. He had slicked-back, brown hair and steely blue eyes with a cold expression. He donned a long grey coat, fastened with gold accessories on top of a dark blue sweater, layered over a neat white button-up; basically, what a sensible businessman would wear if he was born a century ago. His tall stature and strong build were noticeable, with him being the largest of the men so far. 

“Now, now. Getting angry about dinner is not going to make the food come out any faster.” The second man seemed the exact opposite, being much easier on the eyes. He had fluffy blonde hair, and even though the two had the same blue eyes, this man was so warm, you almost couldn’t tell. His dimpled smile was almost angelic. He wore a shorter dark brown coat with a yellow sweater on top of a white shirt, but the most attention-grabbing piece was his long yellow scarf loosely wrapped around him. He was somewhat smaller than his presumed brother. 

“I have to be angry for two, mijn broer,” the gruff one said. The two Dutch brothers seemed close despite being polar opposites. 

The kind brother’s eyes landed on me, and he gave a welcoming smile, “Who’s that? Do we have a guest? It’s nice to meet you!” 

My uneasiness was somewhat alleviated by his warm character. He looked like the paintings of the angels I’d seen in the musée. A few words from him make me feel like everything’s better. We need more people like him. 

The fourth man was sat a little ways away from everyone, head down and eyes studying the piece of tablecloth he was fiddling with. He looked slightly younger than the others, his innocent cherry eyes matched his auburn hair. He wore a sensible white button-up with a grey vest that had a red lapel. A golden button of an apple was stitched to the collar, giving his otherwise professional outfit an almost adorable finish. 

His gaze darted around the room, briefly meeting mine then quickly returning to the tablecloth, “Whoever you are, have you considered sitting down? There’s a queue behind you waiting to get in, you know.” His voice was light and airy with a crisp English accent. 

The Englishman’s chipper voice greeted the shy boy, “Newt, old boy, you do care!” 

He bristled, “Can you desist calling me that wretched—!” “Newt” placed his hands on the table, as though intending to stand up. 

A disciplinary clap sounded behind me. “That will be enough of that, you two. I require good manners at my table.” The gentleman gave everyone a warning look masked by his cordial smile. “Let’s be seated. There’s a few empty chairs, but we’ll have to start the toast without them.” The butler had already snuck into the kitchen, presumably preparing the dinner. The Englishman sat beside the gruff Dutch brother while “Leon” sat beside the shy boy. He gave me a warm glance as if reassuring me that I was safe here. I couldn’t muster up a smile, so instead I gave him a timid nod. Meanwhile, the gentleman gently placed a hand on my back and guided me to a seat beside his, which was at the head of the table. 

The various personalities together seemed as if they wouldn’t mesh well together, but surprisingly, with everyone seated down, it felt like they were all a family. 

“A vôtre santé!” The gentleman raised a glass filled with golden champagne in a toast. A chorus of toasts responded to him by the men. While most of the men kept drinking, the pianist took one sip before quickly placing down his glass. Not quite trusting the gentleman from his elusiveness, but wanting to be courteous, I pretended to take a sip instead. I was too wary. Too much didn’t make sense. It should be almost 3 in the afternoon, and yet I was having dinner in a strange mansion. I should have been at the Louvre with my aunt, and now I’m dining with seven strange men. Interrupting my thoughts, the butler brought out the first course. To say the food looked like a culinary masterpiece was doing it injustice. It was a classic French spread, the sort that I had at the hotels but somehow even better. Still, I remained wary and didn’t make a move. Instead, I turned my attention to my companions. Who are all these men? They seemed normal, if not odd, but their appearances were so unusual. And they were all from different countries, so was this an international meeting of some kind? They don’t seem to be friends, but it felt like there was an ambiguous intimacy between them all. The gentleman, noticing my uneasiness, inclined his glass my way. 

“Let us toast to tonight’s most glorious and miraculous encounter. Santé.” His alluring gaze was comforting, if not off-putting in its warmth. “...à la vôtre.” With such a direct toast, it was impolite not to respond in turn. I timidly raised my glass to his. He finished the rest of his champagne, locking his gaze with mine. Feeling guilty and slightly charmed, I took a small sip of mine. Unfortunately, it tasted wonderful. 

I turned back towards the food laid out in front of me. My stomach quietly grumbled; embarrassed, I looked around hoping no one noticed. Wishing to justify my hunger, I rationalized that it would be insulting if I didn’t eat. I tried the terrine. Pheasant with fresh basil. And it tasted as exquisite as it looked. The bisque was delicious too. You can taste the crab. It’s thickened just right! I closed my eyes. Whoever made this food should be as famous as Gordon Ramsay. My increasing satisfaction with the food was noticed by the gentleman, and awkwardly, I chirped, “My compliments to the chef.” The butler from earlier, who dutifully stood by the kitchen’s entry seemed to relax from his stiff composure. 

He chuckled, “he’ll be pleased to hear that.” Whether it was the champagne or his ardent smile, my nerves considerably eased. Maybe he’s just a harmless nobleman and I’m overthinking everything. Really, if you looked at this scene objectively, I was having a perfectly pleasant evening. Wasn’t this the sort of romantic adventure I was looking for in coming to Paris? 

At the gentleman’s words, the men’s amicable chatter was silenced. “You’ve outdone yourself again Sebastian.” His disarming charisma powered over the room. He looked over the men and said, “I believe we should take this opportunity to introduce ourselves to our guest. I will start us off. Everyone has taken to calling me Comte de Saint-Germain.” Comte? A whole count? Maybe that explains this old-word aura he has. “And once again, it’s a pleasure to meet you, chèrie.” 

“Oh no, the pleasure’s all mine, Comte,” I mumbled, slightly flustered at his manners and my lack of it. I could feel the manor’s members’ eyes on me, and my face warmed at the attention. God, I’m making such a fool of myself. Le Comte de Saint-Germain next turned to his servant. 

“This hard-working butler and the chef of tonight’s excellent banquet is Sebastian,” he fondly introduced. The stern butler from earlier formally bowed. 

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said. He spoke English with a faint Japanese accent. The butler Sebastian—how conveniently named. 

The Comte turned back towards me, “It occurs to me we haven’t heard your name yet. I’d be pleased to know it.” 

There can’t be any harm in telling them that. “I’m… MC,” I clumsily introduced myself. I avoided the eyes of everyone in the room, incredibly self-conscious and still apprehensive. 

“That’s such a pretty name,” the kind Dutch brother piped up. His angelic face, which was sat across from me, was the first to reply, “I wasn’t expecting someone like you to turn up here. I hope we can be friends.” I finally raised my head and met his eyes to be polite, and his expression looked relieved at that. “I’m Vincent van Gogh, I’m a painter. It’s really nice to meet you.” I almost choked on my spit. A painter… named Vincent van Gogh. Is this some kind of themed event? Hoping not to seem offensive at my clumsy actions, I mustered a smile back. He seemed too kind to deserve my stupidity. “And this is my little brother. Go on, Theo, introduce yourself.” 

“Vincent” gently nudged his brother, the gruff Dutch businessman. 

“Theodorus van Gogh. I’m an art dealer. Don’t confuse me with my brother.” 

“I’ll, uh, try my best.” They couldn’t be more opposite. I’m not confusing you two. “You’re not getting anything else from me. Introduction’s over.” To hammer in his point, he took a pocket watch from his coat and tapped it repeatedly, tap-tap-tap, to show that he had better things to do. How could Vincent be older? Theo had me pegged as the older brother with his seriousness. Realizing I was staring at the two of them in puzzlement, my gaze returned to the table. 

Sitting to the right of Theodorus was the shy boy, “Newt,” who was difficult to make eye contact with, the both of us too nervous. If he could’ve curled up into a ball to be swallowed up by the ground, he would have. That being said, doesn’t he live here? I had more of a reason to be afraid of him than he was of me. “I’m Isaac. Isaac Newton. I study physics.” 

“Nice to meet you… Isaac,” I choked out. A physicist named Isaac. They can’t possibly be serious. Despite the absurdity of this situation, I was still fearful of being deemed impolite. “Wait. Should that be ‘Sir Isaac—?’” 

Suddenly, one of the dining room windows burst open. To my surprise, a man climbed in from the outside. I flinched from my seat and quickly glanced around to gauge everyone’s reactions. To my surprise, not a single person looked even remotely startled. The man, who had dark hair and strikingly yellow eyes chuckled sheepishly as he struggled through the window. He had such an easygoing smile that betrayed his serious eyes. He had an old Taisho-style kimono, with a dark purple haori, black hakama, and an unbuttoned white shirt. “Well, well, would you look at that? I’m a little late, aren’t I?” He’d just about fully entered the room when his sleeve got stuck, “...In we go.” He pulled at it comically, his actions humorously exaggerated and ineffective. 

“God’s Truth, can’t you use a door?” Isaac sighed. 

“And keep everyone waiting? No, no, the window’s a much faster entrance.” He smiled, nonchalant about his sleeve still caught by the window. He caught my bewildered eyes. I sat back down, but couldn’t wrench my eyes away from the bizarre scene. “Oh, hello there, young one. Why, I’m happy to see you here. How’s your dinner been?” 

“It’s…good,” I sputtered out. 

“Isn’t it? Well, it’s a Sebas-kun meal, so you really can’t expect anything less. You wouldn’t believe how fast his cooking gets gobbled up here.” He nonchalantly mused and sat on Isaac’s right, who then slithered away from him. 

“Not to worry, you arrived just in time. We were just introducing ourselves to our new guest here.” 

“In that case, I’m Osamu Dazai, just a poor writer struggling to make his way in the world.” His eyes closed with his carefree smile, which made him all the more handsome. 

“Osamu Dazai. The writer. Okay.” I took a quick swig of my champagne. If I had to listen to the rest of these wild introductions I needed to be less sober. Should I have introduced myself as Marie Antoinette or something? I took a quick glance at the “van Gogh” brothers, who had started this odd chain of improv introductions. His smile seemed too innocent to be trying to fool me like this. Who the hell are these people? Is this some sort of prank? I glanced back at my now-empty glass. Was there something in my drink? 

Skipping several empty chairs was the beautiful and cold pianist I’d met earlier. The Englishman called him “Wolfie,” but I bet that’s probably short for—

“Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Composer.” Called it. His character seemed the least to play along in whatever nonsense chain the others made up. Of course, the pianist would be called Mozart. 

“...Hello, Mozart,” two words I never thought I’d utter in my life. 

The cheeky Englishman from earlier, who was practically buzzing with excitement piped up, “I do believe I’m next! I’m Arthur Conan Doyle. Mystery writer.” I pursed my lips and looked down at the table, uncertain whether I should laugh or sigh. “And don’t call me Sir, just Arthur. As long as I get to call you MC.” I quickly glanced up at him, and his eyes twinkled with delight. He, I could see was capable of making up this joke. But then, did that mean everyone was lying to me? No, not lying. They have to be pseudonyms. I looked around once again at everyone. 

Vincent. 

Theodorus. 

Isaac.

Dazai.

Mozart. 

Arthur. 

They have to be. Maybe they have to use fake names to keep their real identities a secret for some important reason. 

“I believe that leaves you.” Le Comte’s silky voice interrupted my racing thoughts. Only my hero remained. My protector. He was the only one who was genuinely on my side. The one who wanted me to get out of here. He promised to answer my questions. I trusted him, albeit instantly. But he couldn’t possibly lie to me too. 

With his eyes that hid nothing, my saviour looked at me and said, “Napoleon. Napoleon Bonaparte… I’m a soldier.”