#like half of them but like. vampires can heal or whatever still works

[svampira]

he goes out like this🤷‍♀️

[justporo]

Until you believe it

A/N: Well, I planned on continuing writing that smut fic (I am working on it, just trying to cook a very good meal for all of you). But then I got warm fuzzy feelings for these two again. Hot elven men, can you blame me? Thanks as always to @velnna for letting me borrow his blorbo!

Things had been so different since that night Astarion had taken all his courage to let Staeve in. Like something had been broken and simultaneously healed once Staeve had wrapped his arms around him and assured him that he wanted nothing else but real between them.

When the pale elf had leaned his forehead against the other rogue’s shoulder he had allowed himself to melt into his touch, at least for a moment. For a few of Staeve’s heartbeats - he could clearly feel hammering in the taller man’s chest - he had felt at peace, his mind pleasantly quiet for maybe the first time in 200 years. The tender hug an oasis in the endless desert.

The vampire still couldn’t believe it but for whatever reason the curious half-drow had stayed, kept tolerating him, even after he had revealed himself and his ulterior motives to him.

And not only that: the gaze of the Staeve’s black and teal eyes always softened when he looked at Astarion. His arms seemed always open, his embrace always welcoming, the words murmured into the vampire’s ear in the nights - they mostly spent fully clothed with each other now - so genuine.

It was almost enough to sway him.

But there must be a catch. There always was. The other shoe must be just about to drop. Moments of serene, blissful ease in Staeve’s arms were followed by deep, gnawing doubt.

Nothing came without a price attached. At least Astarion was in the deeply ingrained habit of thinking that. And old habits, as one knows, die hard.

Those usually were the moments when Astarion would steal away in the nights. To keep pondering about what all this meant - alone. Letting thoughts spiral in his mind until nothing made sense anymore.

That’s what he felt like doing right now as he laid there in the depth of night, Staeve laying at his back, one arm casually wrapped around him. The other rogue had dozed off long ago, subconsciously dragging Astarion in closer to him in his sleep, softly murmuring words that were unintelligible.

The vampire quietly rose to his feet, detangling himself from the other and using all of his roguish dexterity to not disturb Staeve in his blissful sleep. As he opened the flap of his tent a sleepy voice caught him right in the act and made him stop: “What do you think you’re doing?”

Astarion was as still as a statue now.

Staeve’s words weren’t really more intelligible than the stuff he had let out during his sleep. But his still half asleep mind had immediately made sense of the scene in front of him: Astarion scattering off again to sit in the darkness and let his worries take the better of him. He wasn’t about to let that happen, not on his watch.

The vampire slowly turned back around to him.

“I know what you’re doing, Astarion!”

Staeve’s words were still sluggish but he was determined to not let Astarion simply leave like this. With a bit of an effort he pushed himself to a sitting position, lips pursed.

“Don’t think I don’t know how you’re stealing away at night.”

He had very well noticed the vampire’s nightly get-aways but not said anything yet. The pain in Astarion’s crimson eyes he sometimes saw when the vampire thought no one was watching was enough to let the half-drow know that deeply rooted fears must be bugging his lover ceaselessly.

Fortunately for both of them, Staeve had a very fine plan to cure his partner of his worries, at least temporarily.

“Get back down here, I’m not done yet,” Staeve spoke more clearly now and opened up his arms wide for Astarion. His expression allowed no rejection.

But Astarion wouldn’t be Astarion- “Well, what if I am?”

His tone was snarky, his face mimicking Staeve’s pursed lips. The vampire crossed his arms and glared at his slow-blinking partner still trying to get back into the world of the awake.

Something in Staeve’s eyes changed then.

“Can we talk about that tomorrow and for now you get back into my arms?”

There it was again, that genuine tone that immediately made Astarion crack. Ruby eyes flitted over the half-drow’s face and searched for signs of deception or ill will. He found none. Nothing but deep affection and honest worry.

And that was when he folded despite his efforts. The need and the wish to be held by Staeve and being able to lay down his head quickly became an urge he couldn’t ignore. Astarion’s shoulders slumped and with a vulnerable expression on his face he took up Staeve’s open offer and arms and crawled back over to the other rogue.

After a bit shifting and wiggling they lay there similarly than before. But both arms were comfily wrapped around Astarion now, maybe even a leg so as to not let him escape again.

Staeve softly nuzzled the vampire’s pointy ear, purring softly at having him back where he rightfully belonged. Astarion slowly but surely relaxed into his warm touch as silence and nothing but the sound of a soft rumbling deep inside Staeve’s chest filled the night.

“Not done with what though?” Astarion suddenly asked after a long while whenStaeve had almost contentedly dozed off again.

The half-drow took a few moments to blink away the oncoming sleep so he could clearly speak and bring his point across:

“Hugging you. Smothering you with affection. Teasing you lovingly. Until you believe it.”

[cranberrymoons]

peppermint chocolate

prompt: came back wrong (@steddieholidaydrabbles) rated: m word count: 766 words tags: vampire eddie, morning fluff, established relationship

welcome to Day 2 of the fic advent calendar – bite-sized fics posting every day during the month of december. enjoy!

---

So, it turns out vampires can go out in the sun after all, which is… good to know? They just can’t be out in direct sunlight for too long without whining about it, or – that might just be Eddie, actually, but he’s the only vampire who exists, or at least the only one Steve has ever met, so.

Whatever.

Steve never expected for the intricacies of vampire morphology to be relevant to his life. He also never expected to survive hell a half dozen times or get the shit kicked out of him about as often, but – here we are.

“Are you even really a vampire?” he’d asked when he got over the initial shock of Eddie being not dead. “I mean, you don’t fly, you don’t get burned by the sun, you’re eating garlic knots…”

And Eddie had looked up from the pizza he was actively shoveling into his mouth after a week presumed dead in an alternate dimension and just – shrugged. 

Because whatever? Who knows what he really is. 

The demogorgons aren’t actually demogorgons; that’s just what Dustin decided to call them. The Upside Down isn’t really the Upside Down; that’s just the best way to make it make sense in their brains. 

And the vampire currently sliding his arms around Steve’s waist and hooking a chin over his shoulder and yawning with the sharp points of little fangs sticking out is maybe not actually a vampire, but the kiss he presses into the crook of Steve’s neck comes with a little nip that breaks the skin and makes blood bead up to the surface. 

So… vampire. 

Steve is used to it enough by now that he just grunts around his toothbrush and rubs a hand over Eddie’s forearm in morning greeting. He tilts his head to get him to shift his teeth to the skin of his shoulder where he’ll be able to cover it more easily when he goes to work later, lets his eyes fall shut as he feels the familiar pinch and pull of Eddie finding a vein to tap into.

“That’s enough,” he says after a moment. 

He spits foam into the sink, and Eddie bends with him, still latched on. Steve feels his head start to spin with it, and he digs his nails into the back of Eddie’s hand to get his attention.

“Eddie. Enough.”

He feels the sharp points of his teeth pull out of his skin, and then the warm flat of his tongue laving over the pinpricks of the wound, and he takes a deep breath.

“Sorry,” Eddie says quietly. He presses a soft kiss to the mark, already healing over to be replaced by a bruise. “I’m hungry.”

Steve raises his eyebrows at Eddie where their eyes meet in the mirror. “You’ve got to let me eat something first before you take too much,” he reminds him. “There’s a reason they give you cookies when you donate blood.”

Eddie’s arms tighten their hold on his stomach, and Steve can feel the hot, hard press of him behind as he crowds in closer. He’s always like this right after he feeds: all hands and lips and tongue. He still eats normal food, too, but they’d figured out early on that he can’t go more than a few days without getting hungry for… well. 

The other thing.

Steve turns his head to give Eddie what he’s after, lets him push his tongue past his lips into his mouth and lick over the ridges of his teeth. There’s an iron tang in Eddie’s mouth that mixes with the minty toothpaste taste on Steve’s tongue, and it makes him inch closer, letting Eddie nudge him up onto the countertop, crowding between his legs to get closer.

Eddie’s stomach makes a ravenous noise, and Steve pulls back to run a hand over the flushed line of his cheek, pumping warm with his blood.

“Go make breakfast,” he says quietly. He brushes another kiss over Eddie’s mouth. “Please?”

Eddie hums. “Is that the deal? Pancakes for blood?”

“That’s the deal,” Steve says. He raises his eyebrows. “No breakfast for me, no breakfast for you.”

“In that case, maybe I’ll add chocolate chips,” Eddie says. He licks out and lets his tongue catch on the backs of Steve’s teeth. “Or peppermint. Sweeten you up a little more. Stick a straw in you like a juice box.”

Steve just smiles, tweaking the ends of his hair where his elbows are looped over Eddie’s shoulders. 

“If you make me mint chocolate chip pancakes, you can do whatever you want.”

[also on ao3]

[panlight]

I.e. Bella not suffering any consequences: what I find even more annoying is that Meyer makes such a big stink about the books being about choice but only BELLA gets any big choices. Every other member of the Cullens was forcefully turned, either entirely against their will (Carlisle, Jasper) or to save their life (Alice, Edward, Emmett, Esme, Rose). Every shifter is forcefully turned due to the vampires; not even Jacob chose it in the end and actively fought against it. Imprinting is forced. Don't get me started on Leah. And even if Nessie wants Jacob in her life, the book heavily implies that she wouldn't have a choice either way. Also, she has to stay with her family because she'll never look old enough, isn't as invulnerable, etc. Literally only Bella has any choice over life-changing decisions (even Edward claims that he never had a choice in loving Bella). Bella chooses Edward (actively endangering herself and others), chooses to be a vampire (supposedly an evil, immoral life endangering others), chooses to give birth to Nessie (possibly an inhuman killing machine while endangering herself and others), and so on. And instead of ANY consequences AT ALL for what appear to be TERRIBLE choices (based on every single book except the back half of BD), she's ALSO the only one who gets pretty much everything she ever wanted while everyone else has to live with whatever crumbs of happiness they can eke out. It's infuriating if you care about anyone AT ALL other than Bella.

Totally agree! It's always been amusing to me that SM says the books are about choice. The apple being offered on the cover presents a choice: do you take it or not? Do you eat from the tree of knowledge of good and evil? Do you take the apple from the old woman who might be a witch or evil queen in disguise? And the original name of the book was "Forks;" obviously for the setting but also for the idea of forks in the road: which path you will choose?

But Bella's the only one with any real choices here. She actually has a lot more agency than a lot of people give her credit for. SHE chose to move to Forks. SHE chose to pursue a relationship with Edward. SHE chose the reckless actions in New Moon. SHE chose to ask Edward to sit out the fight. SHE chose to become a vampire. SHE chose to keep the pregnancy. She certainly suffers hardships, but they almost all come from choices SHE made for herself.

And the negative effects of those choices are temporary or unimportant to her specifically. Her scars from James are healed in the transformation; Emily's face is still scarred. The toll her pregnancy took on her body is erased in the transformation, but Esme is still 'rounded and soft' from her pregnancy, and Alice is 'thin in the extreme' from her malnourishment. Bella doesn't even burn for the full three days, only two! There's even a line where Edward literally says something like, "Renesmee's eyes are exactly your color, so that wasn't lost after all." She gets to keep Jacob literally forever (he has no choice) and she gets to keep Charlie when no one else got to keep their human families in their lives. Irina dies, but Bella doesn't know her so it doesn't matter.

I fully understand the main character is the main character for a reason; because they're special, because their journey is unique, etc. But this is also the reason I tend to find main characters annoying. This is not a Bella problem or an SM problem but a me problem. I feel similarly about Harry Potter and Katniss Everdeen as I do about Bella Swan. I like ensembles; I like when there are lots of narrators, or when there's no obvious 'main' character. And if there is a main character, dollars to donuts they aren't my favorite; I will 100% always sympathize more with the secondary characters and find them more interesting.

Bella gets to choose what she wants for her life and it all works out for her. Good for her! Genuinely! But it's a glaring contrast to the stories of virtually all the supporting characters and, to me at least, less interesting. Forever disappointed Bella being a newborn was such a non-event. I was looking forward to it for three and a half books and she just basically carries on her life like nothing has changed. Meh. The supporting characters not having many choices and making the best of things is personally more interesting to me.

[desertfangs]

“ how did you get this scar? ” (for Daniel/Armand if you're still accepting!)

I know it seems like I forgot these but I'm swear I'm still working on them! Work has been a beast and also I'm in the process of moving (!!) so my life is sheer chaos rn. Anyhow, this prompt inspired this little slice of life moment and I hope you enjoy it! It's about 1075 words.

Daniel shifts in the bed, groggy and half-asleep, but as he turns over, he brushes against Armand, who is still there beside him. He’s laying on his side, his amber eyes watching Daniel with a stark intensity, auburn curls stark against the white pillowcase. 

It’s not the first time they’ve shared a bed but it’s the first time since they arrived in London, since Armand gave him an electric taste of his blood and he stopped running. It feels strange, somehow, but also comfortable. 

“Hi,” Daniel says, since Armand is still staring at him. Armand says nothing. Daniel feels that familiar twinge of uncertainty. “Sorry, I must have fallen asleep.” 

“You always get groggy once you’ve reached completion,” Armand says. 

Daniel laughs, delighted by the fact that he knows that about him. Such an intimate thing to say! Four years of running and yet Armand knows him better than anyone else. 

“Yeah, well, your touch is soothing.” He reaches over and rubs Armand’s arm, his warm fingers dancing over the vampire’s cool, pale skin. Armand smiles at him. It’s such a warm, genuine smile that Daniel’s heart soars. 

Daniel moves closer and kisses him, their tongues entwining. When they part, he sits up, leaning against the headboard. A thin sheet covers his legs and hips, though at this point, Armand has seen every part of him too many times to count. “Do you ever sleep in a bed? In the daytime I mean?” 

“No,” Armand says. The smile slowly fades from his face. He looks at the window so Daniel looks at the clock on the bedside table. It’s almost five am. Still early. Late. Whatever. There’s time before sunrise. 

“Always a coffin then? Or a casket? There’s a difference, isn’t there?” 

“Yes.” 

“Yes to which part?” Daniel asks, exasperated at how Armand can say so little, even now that they’re sharing a bed and apartment. Well, during the night, anyhow. And during the day, Daniel is usually passed out and Armand is sleeping god only knows where.  

Armand sits up and smooths his hand down Daniel’s shoulder, along his torso, and stops at his hip. His hand is cool, the warmth of whatever blood he drank earlier faded from him. His body is rigid but his hands can be so soft and they feel like velvet as they trail over his naked body. Armand stops at Daniel’s thigh, just above the knee. He touches a mark on Daniel’s skin. “How did you get this scar?” 

It’s barely a scar now, just a little white patch just under his knee. But Armand is watching him curiously, waiting for the answer.

“I was seven years old and I was trying to do tricks on my bike. The bike went out from under me and I landed on this piece of broken glass that was in the street. My sister ran and got my parents. My dad grabbed me and stood me up but then my mom saw my leg was covered in blood and screamed. The glass was sticking out of my leg and my mom and dad fought about whether or not to remove it.”

“Did it hurt?” Armand’s finger pokes at the spot, long healed.

“A little. I think I was in shock. We went to the hospital and they took the glass out and then I got stitches. It hurt after, I remember that. But mostly I was scared because my mom was so freaked out and I remember asking if I was going to die, and the doctor laughed but my mom looked like she actually thought I might.” 

He shakes his head at the memory, the way the horror on his mother’s face had tugged something loose inside him, some primal fear he’d never felt before. The silence hangs between them. Daniel grabs the pack of cigarettes from the night stand and lights one. 

“What about you, do you have any scars? Or did you, before immortality smoothed them away?” 

Armand doesn’t answer. He keeps staring at the little white mark on Daniel’s leg. Then he bends down and kisses it, his lips feather soft. It sends tingles up Daniel’s spine. He slides into Daniel’s lap and removes the cigarette from his lips, replacing it with his mouth. Daniel doesn’t complain. He kisses him passionately, letting Armand’s fangs scrape against his tongue as he delves into his cool mouth. He imagines those fangs scraping over his throat, this thigh, his ankle. 

You could scar me, Daniel thinks. The thought is unbidden, the sort of thing that comes to mind in the throes of passion. But the idea of Armand leaving some sort of mark on him with his fangs is hot as hell. He imagines Armand biting him somewhere—the meat of his thigh, his upper arm—and not healing the wound. His pulse races. 

Armand pulls back out of the kiss, his face so close that Daniel can still feel him there. His eyes are huge and he tilts his head, as if trying to figure something out. 

And then he pulls away from Daniel, climbing off of him. He stands and collects his shirt from where Daniel had tossed it on the floor. 

“Leaving already?” Daniel tries to sound casual, like he’s not bothered at Armand having to go, but in truth, his heart aches at the thought. 

Armand nods toward the window. There is more color in the sky and it is inching toward sunrise. Daniel sighs. He wants to go with Armand, to slip into his coffin and curl against him for the day. 

Armand comes back to the bed and kisses him again, his mouth gentle against Daniel’s. “Sleep, beloved. I’ll be back at sunset.”

Armand is gone in a flash, almost as quick as a puff of smoke, like the wisp of it trailing from the tip of the cigarette Armand set, still burning, in the ashtray. He picks it up and brings it to his lips.

He touches his neck where four years prior, Louis bit him. There’s no mark left, no scar, just the memory of Louis’ fangs in his throat, holding him as he drank. No mark from where Armand drank from him just a week ago in Pompeii. And yet both nights sent him careening in a whole new direction and changed his life completely. 

 He thinks it’s funny how something can leave a lasting mark with no outward sign. 

[baldurs-gape]

The Price Paid

A continuation of A Little Sacrifice but can be read as a standalone.

As predicted, returning for Astarion took a bit of time. Longer than the few days Shadowheart had hoped for but they were determined to not only get him back but also end Cazador's tyranny. Getting a small party together took some thinking and arguing. All of them bundling in at once wasn't exactly great for a stealthy attack but they all did so want to go and rescue their friend.

Given what they knew about their foe, Karlach was an obvious choice to go, Halsin with his healing and wild shape was probably a useful addition. As Gale already knew the lay of the land, he volunteered to go back as well as bringing Omeluum's ring. If it was powerful enough to stop an elderbrain's connection, it had to easily be able to deal with a vampire spawn's compulsions. To round out the party, Lae'zel joined, arguing that she was more refreshed than Wyll and Shadowheart.

Getting back into Cazador's palace wasn't all that hard. In fact, it wsa almost too easy, like they were expected. Sure enough, upon entering the main chamber, Cazador was sat on his throne and an all too familiar figure knelt, head bowed, next to him.

"How long you been sat there like that, just to make this meeting dramatic?" Karlach asked with a snort. "Didn't you feel silly an hour in?"

Rather than respond, Cazador's hand stroked through Astarion's hair unkindly, nails raking over his scalp.

"Isn't this quaint?" His hand fisted in white curls and forced Astarion's head up. "This is your fault, boy. Kill them."

The fluidity with which Astarion rose spoke volumes about the compulsion. As he stood, his injuries became more apparent. His back was a fresh web of blood and flayed skin, there were bruises on his wrists, around his throat, his ankles. Obviously he'd struggled in his bindings. Worse though were the streaks of blood down the inside of pale thighs, all too telling of what other horrors he had been out through.

Knowing Astarion meant knowing how he fought. He had no advantage over them but it didn't feel like he was trying. If anything, his swings were wide, left him exposed. Lae'zel had half a mind to chastise him on his sloppy form when this was all over. His eyes were also full of sadness, of an emotion that had no name but held resigned despair. There were so many openings she could have taken lethal advantage of. Too many. When even Gale had to work to not land a crippling blow or one that would exploit Astarion's injuries, the pieces fell into place. Unfortunately, Cazador also wasn't stupid.

"Stop playing, boy. Kill them and kill them quickly."

The change was instantaneous. Gone were the openings, the easy targets. This time they were facing a hunter. Even worse, whatever it had been in Astarion's eyes was gone. Halsin had seen it before, in refugees he had treated. It was a complete divorce of mind from body, whatever shreds Astarion had been clinging to had been severed and he was gone for the moment.

Fighting turned dirty. Lae'zel got a hit in on Astarion's leg, heard the bone snap. Yet Astarion kept going, body locking stubbornly even as his leg should have given out under normal circumstances, the pain should have rendered him immobile. From his throne, Cazador rose as the group managed to crowd around Astarion. Karlach wrestled him to the ground, Halsin grabbing one flailing arm while Lae'zel pinned kicking legs, needing to press on the break to shock Astarion into a moment of stillness.

"Gale! Now!" Halsin had Astarion's wrist in a grip, fighting to keep it in place long enough for Gale to slip the ring on. Despite hope, Astarion didn't, couldn't, make it easy. Hissing, teeth gnashing, he fought them at every turn, tried to buck Lae'zel off while biting at Karlach's armour clad arm.

As soon as the ring was secure on his finger, everything fell quiet. They were pinning nothing more than a rag doll, Astarion was limp, gaze distant. Looking to the throne, Halsin grumbled to see it empty.

"We got our friend back. Cazador will have to wait for another time."

Nobody argued. Despite their victory, it all felt rather hollow. Bodily they had Astarion but they couldn't rouse him. Spells healed the worst of his wounds yet he still didn't even stir. Dripping blood from a cut finger between parted lips were swallowed sluggishly but it seemed reflexive, almost painful. If it hadn't been for the fact Astarion's eyes were closed as he slept and half lidded but without focus when awake, it would have been all too easy to think him truly dead.

Everyone took turns to try and help. Gale cooked and jokingly threatened to taint Astarion's portion with his rancid blood to serve him right. Shadowheart tried every healing spell she could and then a few more, just in case she missed something. Yet nothing worked. Lae'zel actually slapped Astarion, hoping to shock him out of his stupour. The only thing she achieved was the rest of camp glaring at her and refusing to let her try anything else. Meanwhile Karlach pleaded, made sillier and sillier promises, even offering up Clive if Astarion would just at blink or groan already. To find help, Wyll ventured out, looking for any kind of answer he could find.

It left Halsin who simply sat with Astarion. Occasionally he'd read out loud from some inane book or just quietly talk about camp life. Interspersed with such chatter were reassurances that they were glad Astarion was home with them, that they were sorry they couldn't get to him quicker, that all they wanted was their friend back. The longer Astarion didn't move, didn't respond, the more the group began to lose hope.

"What if it's the ring?" Gale asked Halsin quietly, sitting in Astarion's tent with them. He handed over a bowl of stew and got comfortable to tuck into his own portion.

"It isn't. We take the ring off and Cazador's compulsions will force him to try and kill us again." Sighing, Halsin squeezed Gale's knee. "Astarion was highly strung already when we met, teetering on the edge of breaking. I can't imagine what he's gone through before us and after us. But it would enough to break anyone. All he needs is time to come back to us. And he will, I promise, I've seen it before."

"I miss him," Gale whispered. "His snark, his flirting, his company. I was hoping to show him some magic, see if he'd like to take things further."

Softly, Halsin smiled. "I think he would like that. Hear that, Astarion? You've got a date to look forward to when you're feeling up for it. Hells, I might have to race Gale for your affections. I hear he's not the sharing kind." Playfully, he bumped his shoulder against Gale's and winked.

"I don't know," Gale drawled as he figured out the game, "if Astarion asked, I would do it. You're not half bad. And I'd rather him happy than to call him all mine. But you'd have to lead us through this new territory. As you've said, sharing isn't something I'd considered before."

Keeping their shoulders pressed together, Halsin hummed. He could most certainly do that, show the other two just how wonderful it could be. But that was all pending Astarion's preferences. Both he and Gale glanced at him at the same time.

"Shit!" Gale set his bowl aside in a hurry to lean over Astarion whose unfocused eyes were trickling tears. "Astarion, it's okay. You have a say in all this. You don't have to endure either of us if you don't want to. We were just..." Trailing off, he looked to Halsin pleadingly.

Taking a cold hand in his, Halsin stroked it with his thumb. "It's okay, little one, you're safe." The hand twitched, even if Astarion remained unresponsive. "We've got you."

"Yeah," Gale agreed quickly. "We'll be whatever you need. Friends, bodyguards, penfriends if you need distance." He watched as the tears dried up as quickly as they came and Astarion returned to his unresponsive state.

From then on at random times Astarion would cry. There was no rhyme or reason to the tears starting up but Gale and Halsin dutifully wiped them away and held his hand in reassurance. It was only when a sob finally broke through chapped lips that they knew Astarion was back.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

What Shall We Become 18 - Discomforted

The rogue is left to his thoughts.

On AO3.

He doesn’t hear her for the rest of the day. For half of the following. He wakes from his reverie and his arms work again. So he sits up as the kuo-toa enter with baskets of more fish. He shudders as he drains them. All darkness and cold and soggy detritus to gobble down, with those. No joy. Barely any spark of life. It’s disgusting.

But still better than a putrid, mushy rat.

When he does catch the sound of far off voices, he realizes she’s forsaken the potion of tongues. She only has another few, he thinks. Likely saving them.

That’s fine. They’ve little to discuss as it is.

She knows. She saw (rather felt) what he did, and came back. Like a fool. Like he was worth all that. And he isn’t providing her a single service. A few Chondathan lessons? Bah. Not that much of an investment. She should have carried on without him. It’s what he would have done. What he thought she was sensible enough to realize.

Or perhaps it’s only his plan succeeding? He needs someone willing to aid him. Shield him. Feed—

And he hasn’t had to sleep with her! He should be thrilled. To have hooked her devotion so easily. It’s a fine bargain, for him.

But he can’t. Because what she’s given him isn’t cheap, and that’s a problem. No one gives things away. Never once in his last two hundred years has he ever…won something. Not like this. And not without paying for it, and paying dearly.

He traces the raised line over his ribs, up over his chest. A steady diet of slimy fish blood should smooth that right off in another day or two, leaving him fresh and unmarred and beautiful. As all his other injuries have done.

Save for two.

His fingers brush up his neck. The punctures there. They feel large. Always have. Two pits in his neck, the edges rough and ragged (he knows he doesn’t leave such marks on his foolish leader; even then, at the beginning, that bastard had wanted to mark him).

But his targets never seem to notice them (at least, not unless that bastard invites them to Astarion knowing what he is, offering them the thrill of bedding a stunning, tamed vampire). He wears high collars, usually lurks in dim corners, goes after those whose wits are already slipping. But he rarely, so very rarely gets to keep those high collars in place. And they never say anything. Not about those marks. Not about his eyes. His pallor. His grave-chilled skin.

Too busy grabbing. Too busy taking. That’s the only explanation he’s ever been able to come up with.

And the other scars…

He can just manage to twist an aching arm around so his fingertips find the lowest lines. That bastard marks what’s his. Usually, his “gift” wipes all traces of previous such attentions, even on Astarion’s paltry diet. Not this one. He’d wanted this one to stay. A whole night’s work, so many revisions. He wanted that poem etched into Astarion’s flesh for all eternity. It had burned terribly when that bastard rubbed the oozing carvings with whatever godsforsaken salt concoction. Packed the tears in Astarion’s skin full, so vampiric healing or no, his body had no choice (never a choice, not in anything) but to lift up into ugly scar tissue.

Astarion will never be rid of it. Just as he’ll never be rid of that bastard—

No. No.

He reflexively shoves that down. Reaches around himself for something else to touch. Warped planks of wood. Scraps of cloth reeking of fish. The cold, metallic scent of aquatic blood.

He’s not in the kennels. Not even in the dorms. Not in that wretched palace and not even in the city. He’s in the Underdark, being nursed by fish pledged to his naive leader and he’s going to milk that for everything it’s worth.

“Hello, you out there!” he says. “I’d like more blood!”

It’s vile, but it’s something.

***

He lays about for another two days. He thinks it’s two days, anyway, judging from his leader’s sleep. She’s rigged up some kind of curtain and shelters in with him while she does that—after turning away most of the kuo-toa and their gracious gifts. The only thing she takes is the fish he’s emptied, and some kind of dried seaweed he can set on fire for her.

It smells atrocious as it burns. And she makes a concession to open the curtain while she does it. But she figures out how to clean and cook the fish, and the noise she makes when she takes her first bite almost does something to him. Reminds him of the very first taste of her own blood hitting his tongue.

She barely speaks. Seems content to grunt and, presumably, gesture at her devoted subjects. She only has three potions left, that he knows of. What she does when she’s not hiding in here with him, he has no idea. Likely hiding elsewhere.

She’s kept up her Chondathan lessons, at least. She threw her ultimatum at him so rudely, and then pretends she did nothing of the sort. So he falls back to patterns he knows, and also pretends she did nothing of the sort. He never cut her loose to die, and she never found out about it and then…forgave him for it.

She’s infuriating. Absolutely infuriating. She doesn’t react to anything like a normal person, and he doesn’t even know if the entirety of her people are just like that, or if she’s the aberrant specimen. That would be his luck.

As his body repairs itself, he repairs his clothing. Which doesn’t take long. Loses time for a while—his usual past time. And then, as she sleeps on their second day, his fingers find cool metal in his pack.

That necklace. They must have taken it off him at some point before hoisting him onto that sacrificial slab. Here it rests, in his pack. So he takes it out.

The links slip through his fingers like water. Jewels cascade down the front, rather like drops of rain. He imagines it’s a pretty thing. He hopes it complements his complexion.

He doesn’t remember actually learning the firebolt cantrip. Has no memory of lessons in a garden or sitting beside a tutor in his children’s short pants.

This one carries a spell upon it. That, he can tell. Beyond that…? He might as well be fumbling about in the dark, without sight, in the vast, echoing Underdark.

He drops the necklace into his pack.

Eventually she wakes. Greets him in Chondathan. Heads out to do…whatever it is she does.

She just chose to come back. If Astarion weren’t always on the precipice of starvation, he would consider vomiting out of sheer disgust. One doesn’t just choose to overlook a wrong like that. He used to be a magistrate, by the hells. There must be a punishment. There has to be.

Yet she just, just…forfeited it. Let him leave her and not only didn’t cast him aside, but came searching for him and then murdered what he now suspects was a redcap to save him. The absolute audacity. She can’t simply do things like that. She can’t make those decisions. No one else would. No one else ever has.

Mistakes are punished. Corrected. A wrong can only be made right when the perpetrator pays for it (through gold or flesh). She’s insane, is what she is. Rattled in the skull. An idiot.

Yet the fish obey her as a god, and the tent flap lifts as their reek washes over him. In they trundle, finned feet slapping against old wood, to lay yet another basket of flapping, gasping, dying fish at his side.

…and he still tastes the ghost of her blood. Can still sense it, out there in the dark. He left her to rot and she still guided him and talked to him and accepted his gifts. She knew the entire time. And still slept in his tent and loaned her staff and entertained him with lurid stories. She helped him escape the, whatever in the hells a “birdshark” is, and whatever rules a quake abides by.

She gave him her blood. Knowing all the while.

He’s been waiting for the other shoe to drop. It must. It always does.

Yet…yet this one. This one doesn’t seem inclined to budge. And he has absolutely no idea what to do with that.

[bianotbia]

— 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 [𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧]

˗ˏˋ you promised astarion to find a way of curing his vampirism and you'll do whatever it takes to accomplish it ˎˊ˗

⤷ a/n : This IS completely ooc and probably isn't canon at all, I'm just sad I can't play the game. I admit this could've been better but I did my best cause he's pretty and the lore is amazing <3 I hope astarion fans are kind to me :')

⤷ contains : gn! archfey warlock! reader x astarion, angst, suggestive, a bit of fluff, mentions of blood, bruises and scars, psychological abuse and trauma [wc: 4.5k]

⤷ taglist : @lemondrop-symphony / @i-literally-cant-with-this

⤷ now playing : a whole new world by zayn & zhavia ward

I can show you the world

Shining, shimmering, splendid

Tell me, princess, now when did

You last let your heart decide?

I can still hear the deafening silence of that fading morning, the sight of the corpses of my parents and brother laying so peacefully on their beds after succumbing to an ancient curse would haunt me forever. First came silence within cold halls and muted walls that listened but never replied, then came the voices and mutterings that made company to this lost soul that believed would never be happy again. As months went by, hunger grew along with the despair of meeting the same end as my family, cloaked by the shadows of an alley I longingly gazed at a fruits stand a few meters away “Why don’t you take one, child?” a voice echoed in my head “They come from the forest, from my long lost home, I can assure you they are property of no man” I look down at my wrists and the fresh red marks that still adorn them from my last theft. “Don’t worry child, leave it to me” I felt magic coursing through my veins and surrounding my body the air around me became hazy as I stumbled ahead, frightened eyes meeting the merchant’s ones who only looked away as if I was never really there. With a feast worthy of any king I indulged in fruits and breads brought to me by the wonders of magic “I see you enjoy your well deserved meal” it wasn’t a whisper anymore that talked to me “You're a smart child, I believe you already know I’m not coming from your inner self” I didn’t reply it, I never do, living in a half elvian and half human house provided me with knowledge of ancient beings and higher forces that are never meant to be fully trusted. “I’ve been observing you for a while and I might say we can be a great pair. What do you say about making a deal?” I shivered slightly and remembered the dim days that haunted me and the darker ones that laid ahead “Your unquestioning loyalty for anything you want…power, knowledge, protection…and even company”. The lively sounds of the streets seemed to die out and memories of that deafening silence flooded back “...Deal” a low chuckle echoed inside “Wonderful, I hope I can count on your loyalty from now on my dear child” unfortunately my stomach still rumbles and fear still desolates my soul “I always keep my promises”. Ancient fey runes burned across my tender flesh and just like that my broken soul pledged allegiance to something I so desperately wanted to rely on. I prayed for the gods to get back what I’d lost and they took everything I had left.

I can open your eyes

Take you wonder by wonder

Over, sideways and under

On a magic carpet ride

Among bugs and weird shadows, the party returned to the secluded camp after another tiring quest, blood dripping in the dirty ground as we all stumbled to safety “Look I really like you guys and all but honestly I prefered when I worked alone y’know, quiet as a shadow and not with a damn loud wizard, a githyanki and a flamboyant vampire” Lae’zel huffed and gripped my shoulder menacingly “I'll let it slide this time, sweety pie” with nervous laughter I lifted my arms in playful surrender “Alright, alright! It’s just a joke!”. Finally settled, we all arranged our spots and started healing the daily wounds and planning what would be our next step on this mission. The smell of food could already be felt through the camp, after getting myself clean and all patched up I look over to a certain vampire struggling to stitch a tiny cut on his forehead, “Need a hand there” he sighed and handed me a bottle of healing solution “A complete disaster it would be if I ever ended up with a scar on my face. How could I ever live knowing there is an horrendous cut on it?” I let out a giggle as I finished the stitches “It's really not that bad don't worry”. The camp grew silent as most of the party members fell into deep slumber “You know you could have asked anyone else to heal this with magic” Astarion shrugged and scoffed “Don’t really trust Gale and his big hands or Shadowheart with her suspicious stares” I hummed and gazed at the clear night sky “Did you really mean it when you said you prefer working alone as you used to?” the cicadas sang between the bushes and filled the sudden silence “Not really actually, I like your company” his amused laugh warmed my heart “Mine or these inconvenient companions” a smile grew on my lips “I'm really happy I met all of you. I just want to end this nightmare and go back to normal” the vampire scoffed “I don't think normal is suitable to describe our early lives…especially mine” I laid my head on his shoulder “Sometimes I forget you're a vampire” at least he doesn't fidget anymore when I come closer “Well I can't have this luxury” for a moment I recall hidden memories of a forgotten past “...What if I promised to find a way to heal your vampirism” he let out a tired sight “I would say you finally turned out insane” his crimson eyes might appear distant yet there's still hope calling from beyond this mask “I will make sure you have a happy ending Astarion, just like you deserve” he rises from where we were sitting “Well be my guest, let's see if you can keep your word child” a shiver went down my spine as I saw him drifting into the shadows “I always keep my promises”.

A whole new world

A new fantastic point of view

No one to tell us "no"

Or where to go

Or say we're only dreaming

Later that night, when our emotions dampened and tiredness got the best of us, everybody laid soundly on their mats, unfortunately there have been years already that I didn't go a single night without a bad dream or rather without an encounter with my patron. The whimsical scenario before me looked familiar, a lake of dark waters found ominously in the middle of a forest cloaked by the night, resembling a clear mirror reflecting the starry sky above. As always I'm standing in its middle, somewhere where I can't clearly see the borders or anything beyond. The water hits my waist while my bare chest remains exposed and vulnerable out of it, unlike he that stands before me, vines covering most of his naked body, his greenish skin scintillating under the crescent moon and antlers imposingly reaching for the sky – Oberon, the king of forests and father of all faeries – extended his clawed hand towards me. “Tell me child what afflicts your soul tonight, you seem more restless than usual” I slowly walked towards him “I need your help. I need to help him” he made a disapproving expression “Who? The vampire? Not my favorite creatures” “Please, I promised him I would at least try to search for a cure” Oberon clicked his tongue yet his gaze changed “You know that's not how things work child, vampirism is a curse for life…however I believe there's something you could try, but only if you are willing to give up a part of your own self for it” I looked defiantly at him “I did it once I believe I can do it again” his dark grin grew even larger “Oh a child in love, can anything be more sweet than that. Fair enough, the Crossed Fates is a simple ritual for lovers who are willing to change their own fates with the one of their other half” his words started to sink in and until realization hit, he hummed “However be aware that you need to be sure he’s truly in love with you or else who knows what might happen” his mocking expression didn't calm my uneasy heart, Oberon traced his fingers over my cheek and chuckled “I know very well what's the look of someone in love, it isn't about you I'm worried about…” my stomach twisted with his words “I made him a promise and I always keep my word” “Oh I'm sure about that” after vanishing in thin air I blink a few times and look around but he’s no longer there, the sky above was now starless adorned solely by a full blood moon, I looked down at my hands and saw them stained with a crimson thick liquid just like the one that now surrounded me while I got pulled back into unconsciousness, a lonesome scream ripping through my throat gets lost into the night.

A whole new world

A dazzling place I never knew

But when I'm way up here

It's crystal clear

That now I'm in a whole new world with you

Day after day we fought our enemies and got a little bit closer to our destiny yet the promise I did echoed louder each time I thought about Astarion. After days of adventures in hostile land we left the wilderness and finally arrived at the city of Baldur's Gate, a place I once called home, whose dirty streets brough memories of darker memories still imprinted on the corners of my stained mind. Before we continued our mission we decided to split up and recharge, for the worst is yet to come, everyone went on to do what they desired but not Astarion who seemed quite uneasy on this familiar ground “Unsolved business here?” he huffed “Too many to count, but I rather not think about them now” thinking about cheering him up a little bit I proposed “Would you accompany me to some drinks?” a smirk appeared on his handsome face “How can I say no to that” together we stepped into the restless pulse of the city. After a few drinks at the Elfsong Tavern I decided to show him a special place I used as a hideout for many years, through dark alleys and high roofs we finally reached the peak of a church's tower majestically reaching for the heavens above. Near the grandiose bells, was a small dusty chamber, now completely empty if not for a small chest on a dim lit corner, I picked its lock and found inside a forgotten treasure of my earlier years, tons of little relics, silver watches, golden rings, shiny daggers, dazzling through the dirt. Astarion observed the artifacts inside until his gaze landed on a certain necklace, a golden chain adorned with a shimmering emerald “What's this doing here?” I gazed at the jewelry on his hand then at him “I lied to you” the vampire furrowed his brows, his hands clenched around the stone and he took a deep breath “About what dear?” “We've already met before once…here in Baldur’s Gate” his face morphed into one of confusion and shock “We did? How? I think I would have remembered a pretty face like yours” the smile on his face didn't last long “I wasn’t so sure when we met at the beach but I knew you resembled someone. A few years ago I was at a tavern thinking about ways of completing a task for my patron when I saw a pale elf sitting nearby gazing with distant eyes at the dancing bodies” he gulped down “You locked eyes with me and came closer to where I was sitting, something told me you weren’t a normal elf. After whispering something on my ear the only thing I remember is feeling the necklace in my hand”. Astarions breathing seemed uneven and his gaze somewhere far away in time “Later that night I saw you leaving the tavern, you looked back at me a bit hesitant but just turned away” the quietness above the busy streets was comforting and the warm breeze somehow evoked those forgotten days “What a small world we live in, to ever wonder we would meet again in such circumstances'' he sadly smiled. “Would you ever live in Baldur's Gate again Astarion?” I asked “I believe there's far too many memories here which I rather let it rot in oblivion” sitting shoulder to shoulder with him I reached for his hand “I’m no foreign to the feelings you carry, I too know how it is to be lost…just a puppet in someone else's hands. But that doesn't mean you can’t find a new destiny for yourself” he gracefully intertwined our fingers and for once in so long the silence in my mind felt pleasant to my heart.

Unbelievable sights

Indescribable feeling

Soaring, tumbling, freewheeling

Through an endless diamond sky

The sky grew darker and darker, we all decided it was better to meet at the tavern and rent a few rooms for us to rest, at least among cheers and warm candle lights things didn’t feel as bad as they were, for a brief moment we could taste how it is to live a normal life, a life without whispers, dark marks or devil contracts. But he was still there, he still came to me every night, a curse and a blessing I’m fated to live till the end of my days. The cheerful laugher and loud chatting seem so distant until I feel Gale tapping on my shoulder and asking to have a word with me in private, when we found an isolated room he turned to me with a worried expression “Look I’m not gonna beat around the bush, you may not be a wizard or a sorcerer but you have great magic in your hands” I wonder where he’s trying to get and he continued “Honestly in all my years of knowledge I never heard or seen anything on recovering vampirism. So I don’t know what you're thinking about doing or what your patron promised you, it won’t work”. I opened my mouth but no words left “...How did you?” “Astarion seems a little drunk right now and is boasting to everyone how he likes you more than all of us, how you understand and cares for him, and that you promised to cure him” I let out a tired breath “Look everything is under control. I know what I'm doing” the wizard raised his hands in surrender “Alright but you know better than anyone that every magic has a price. Just promise me you won’t hurt yourself?” the whispers got louder in my ears as I motioned to leave “I don’t think I can promise you that…but sure I'll try” I left Gale behind and went to my room, unaware that behind the shadows of the night a certain vampire listened to our conversation.

A whole new world (Don't you dare close your eyes)

A hundred thousand things to see (Hold your breath, it gets better)

I'm like a shooting star

I've come so far

I can't go back to where I used to be

The evening got quieter but the thoughts inside didn’t cease, I prepared a bath hoping to scratch down all of the tiredness that weighed me down and the dirt accumulated within all those days in the wilderness. The voices in the hallways could still be heard yet they seemed far away, the stillness of the water reminded me a bit too much of my nightmares yet it still feels calming enough for a sore soul. The stars danced out of the window in the great sky above, so hypnotizing I didn’t even hear the door unlocking. “Oh what I would give up to share this bath with you darling” the familiar velvety voice pulled me back to reality “Good lord! Don't sneak on me like that” I shot a glare at him as he leaned at the door frame laughing “So…what do you say?” I muttered a consent and looked away as he slowly undressed and got into the tub. Even if we were a lot more intimate than when we started, I still wasn’t used to having someone so close to me “Don’t need to get all shy, little thief. I’m not mad about my stolen necklace” I leaned my head on the edge of the tub “That’s not really what I was thinking now” “Oh really then tell me what do you have in mind” I silenced a gasp took a breath and asked him “What would you like to do when this is all over?” he cocked his brow surprised “Huh not expecting that…well I can see myself in a splendid, enormous and bright mansion far away. Living my days in frivolous delight with someone to make me company” I can't help but let out a giggle “I'll pretend I believe that, so who would be that someone?” “Oh darling don't play oblivious, who else would I share my happy ending other than the one who promised it to me” I could feel his fingers caressing mine under the water “Must be nice living a quiet life…I’ll keep my word Astarion”. The elf had a sad smile on his face as we sat together in silence “Not that I was spying on you but I've heard your talk with Gale, so you did find a solution after all” “I could say so I guess, didn't expect you would tell everyone about it” “I might have gotten a tad excited. But about your conversation with the wizard, it's not something risky, is it?” “Don’t worry about it. I've done many rituals, it will go out fine” he hummed and I gazed at the moonlight again. “Do you love me?” Astarion widened his eyes with the sudden question, his mouth opened but didn't made a sound while I let out a nervous laugh “I’m sorry, I don't know where that came from, you don’t have to answer that… you should have seen your face tho” he anxiously furrowed his brows and averted his gaze “Well…If love means wanting to share your curses and blessings, your nightmares and dreams, the worst and best days of yours life, then perhaps…I do” now it was my turn to go speechless, he comes closer and carefully puts a strand of my hair behind my ear slowly leaning in, our lips barely touching each other like soft feathers of angels finally descending into desire. His hands wandered through my skin as our tongues moved in sync until we pulled apart breathless, he leaned back at the tub and I laid my head on his chest, slender fingers traveled along the runes on my skin while trailing the remaining cracks of a lost soul.

A whole new world

With new horizons to pursue

I'll chase them anywhere

There's time to spare

Let me share this whole new world with you

The veil of dreams fell as swiftly as a feather across the starless sky, the red moon seemed brighter than ever above the eerie waters that once again surrounded me. A little far ahead stood Oberon, with dark piercing eyes and the condescending smile that never left his lips “The big night is coming, are you ready for it child?” my stomach sank “I-I’m starting to…doubt if I should really do this” he mockingly hummed “Scared of him not loving you enough or perhaps are you finally realizing your dark destiny. Are you willing to go that far for him?” the whispers inside started to grow louder “A broken soul can’t heal another broken soul, one of them is alway bound to break a little more” the air in my lungs seemed to vanish “We still have a contract, you shouldn't get distracted by silly emotions. You know you’ll have to let him go after the ritual, why would he want a reminder of the past he so desperately wants to forget” a knot forms on my throat “Shut up!...please” tears travel down my face “I don’t want to lose him too…you’ll still be here right?” sharp claws traced my jaw and lifted my chin to look at his maddening irises “I won’t ever leave your side darling”. Once again he disapeared in thin air, under the red ominous waters I could feel palms climbing up my legs and gripping my torso, no sound left my mouth as I desperately tried to free myself from that strong grasp pulling me to dark oblivion. My heart felt like it would burst out off my chest, however I start to feel a tight grip on my wrists pinning me down on the bed as I slowly get back to my senses, only to see Astarion’s fangs dangerously nearing my neck, his touch besited when he noticed the scared look in my eyes “Pardon me darling…I believe tonight's occurrences made me a bit too excited” feeling him above me made my heart beat even faster making the grip he holds around my wrists tight but still letting go “You did seemed a bit restless, a nightmare perhaps?” I nodded “Nothing unusual about that…tomorrow at dawn we’ll leave to the forest to do the ritual” his brows raised in surprise but still he quietly assented “then I believe it’s better for me to leave the room, before any other accidents happen and so you can properly rest” he motioned to leave the bed when I reached for his bare torso, sliding my hands around his waist and softly pulling him back having my chest pressed to his back “I think I can handle you like this” feeling his stiff body slowly ease under my touch as we both fell in sweet slumber.

A whole new world

A new fantastic point of view

No one to tell us "no"

Or where to go

Or say we're only dreaming

The sun rose in a scintillating sky as we woke up at the break of dawn just as the city started its bustle and liveliness, together we made our way towards a secluded forest nearby where Oberon advised us to do the ritual. For a little while we walked in silence until Astarion thought it was too quiet “I would like to know what exactly is going to happen on this ritual, given the fact I’m practically putting my life on your hands here” I thought about it “Fair enough. There isn’t much mystery around it actually, we’ll get inside a lake and make a cut in our palms, after that we face each other with our fingers interlocked, I’ll recite an enchantment and when you least expect goodbye fangs” he seemed to expected something more “Huh quite simple, what about the whole thing of every magic has its price that Gale mentioned, what’s the price?” my throat went dry “Don’t worry I took care of that already”. It was a long way until we finally found the place mentioned, crooked trees and weavering shadows encircling an eerie lake so clear it could almost be considered a mirror, the only thing left now is to wait for the rise of the blood moon. The clock seemed to go backwards until the time finally came, I took Astarion’s hand and led him until the dark waters reached our waists “Are you ready?” I took a dagger out of my pocket “Would you let me have the honor, I might say I’m more experienced with sharp things” he took my hand into his and caressed my palm, before I could even realize the cut was made the warm liquid already dripped into the lake, he took a sharp breath and quickly made the same to his own hand. We positioned ourselves facing each other, raised our palms and intertwined our fingers, the ancient words of the incantation dripped from my tongue as I’ve known it forever until I let out a long breath. “I-I lied…about the price to pay” the grip on my hand tightened “What are you talking about? You seem to lie quite a lot for someone that claims to always keep their word, don’t you?” I looked around noticing a far too familiar shadow hidden behind the trees “Just enough for the right thing to happen. I’m sorry…it’s for your own good” when the final words of the ritual leave my lips the last thing I remember is our hands letting go of each other and our bodies falling into the mysterious water.

A whole new world (Every turn, a surprise)

With new horizons to pursue (Every moment red-letter)

I'll chase them anywhere

There's time to spare

Let me share this whole new world with you

The natural mirror reflected the downward red moon until a hand broke away from its stillness, Astarion surged from the depths of it gasping for air and coughing up the water in his lungs, as he tried to steady himself in the uneven ground below he finally sees, a bright reflection weavering through the water ondulations looking back at him, as he runs his hands through his own face a loud laugh escapes his mouth and echoes beyond the crooked trees “It worked, it worked! You did it! … darling?” the wide smile in his lips slowly faded out. As he looked around the only movement on the water was the waves around his own movements, back to the dark depths he desperately searched for the one he so much needed, anxious hands reaching for something familiar in this unanny place. After a few moments our fingertips finally meet each other as he quickly pulled my limp body out of the water, dragging it to the shallow part “No no no! What have you done?” brushing off the damped hair out of my face I felt a feverish haze spreading through all over my fles, unconsciously gripping on his shirt and coughing up the water I swallowed, he held me closely into his arms until his hands moved to my back and touched through the damped fabric of my shirt markings that are far too familiar to him, demonic imprints he was more than sure didn’t belong on my skin “Darling…what is this? What did you do?” the fear was clear on his voice as tears falled down my now crimson eyes and got lost in those hollow waters “I kept my promise…it was the only way” his face morphed into one of pain and disbelief finally seeing the fangs he was once used to having “No…No! This isn't fair…you know I hate when you play hero” I gazed at Astarion’s bright green irises and reached a finger to dry the tears that cascaded down his face “I always knew you had such pretty eyes” he rested his forehead on mine and whispered “Having you by my side was already the happiest ending I could ever wish for, my love”.

A whole new world (A whole new world)

That's where we'll be (That's where we'll be)

A thrilling chase (A wondrous place)

For you and me

the images aren't mine! all rights reserved to © bianotbia 2023. please do not claim, translate, copy or modify any of my works as your own. reblogs are appreciated! ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

[darckcarnival]

@valour-bound

Working together with Chris wasn't uncommon, it happened from time to time, especially with how Darck tended to check in more often as the years ticked on. She already went out of her way to go out on her own to follow leads and outbreaks, having been just as invested as others, personally involved as she was. The two worked quite well together, even so very many years ago before lives had been changed forever. And maybe that had been part of the reason why, for this particular event, he'd outright called her for the assist. After all, the woman had already been in the area near by. Was also incredibly durable, knew how to survive.

It meant that Redfield didn't need to bring anyone with him, she knew how much Chris hated putting others in danger. The less team he had to take, the less potential casualties. Especially with how little information that was had on this place. Between them, there had been nothing but monsters, infected, and left behind corpses. Blood everywhere, the scent nearly over whelming with the vampiric senses, tickling at the hunger daring to bubble up. Someone had gotten their hands on T-Veronica, whatever was left of it... Hadn't ended well. Other than the red alert and SOS, it had been silent.

Now? The result was the desperate attempt for survival in the half blown apart bunker at a far corner of the facility, fire licking up the remaining walls as it ate away at storage, spilled contents of who knows what. Bullets ripping through flesh and sinew of a mangled Tyrant, jaws unhinged and exposed teeth, greyed out eyes. Pulsating veins bulged across the scalp, down the spine. Arms discolored and burnt from it's own attacks to lead into this damned room, one large hand now nothing but bone like blades, dripping blood over steel flooring after having freshly mutated the limb to impale and throw the shorter woman, who long ran out of ammo, forced into close quarter combat. It had been treating the two combatants as if they were merely rag dolls to be thrown around or tore into. Gurgling low in it's throat, bullet holes oozing disgusting viscera across it's form.

She had crashed straight through a flaming wooden crate, and into a smoke filled corner. Coughing and huffing for breath, hearing the muffled voice of Chris shouting something in the much safer side of the room. Eyes lifted and scanning, squinting, desperate to catch glimpses. Gun fire sounded a million miles away. But she was bleeding out, pulsing in her ears while instincts clawed up the back of her skull, hair standing on end while smoke clogged the lungs.

Hungry... Fire, smoke- burning. Slows down healing. Danger here. Family here!

No, no. Darck couldn't loose it now. Keep control, while slowly forcing herself on shaking limbs to get on her hands and knees, but could barely move. Her mind practically shouting to get back up, use all that supernatural strength ever so relied upon to be used as a meat shield, to fight back, be someone who can take it. She had to take it...! GET UP, MOVE! The woman was getting so frustrated, angry, and desperation was setting in, making her instincts even worse.

Eyes caught the shape of the Tyrant once more, watching while it slowly turned and began towards Chris instead. Step by slow ominous step did the damn thing chance course. Shouting was still impossible to understand between the thundering within muffled ears, heat biting at every nerve. Seeing how their enemy had changed targets, getting ready to run for Chris- it snapped the final shred of control, sending her into a downward spiral.

Survival instinct kicked in. Nails grew longer, teeth elongated to full size, nerves pulled tight. Once hazel eyes behind purple lenses shifted, over taken by hellfire red bleeding in.

An unnatural roar echoed in the room, followed by the woman suddenly flinging herself through the fire wall separating the two sections- as if it no longer meant anything. Survive, protect, kill. That smaller body moving not unlike some unhinged monster straight out of a horror film. Jaws wide as steam exhaled.

Only for the smaller form to reach the target, leaping onto it's back, digging nails in deep. Like a raging wild beast, climbing her way up much to the surprised frustration of the Tyrant. Clawing at it's own arm when it tried to reach back at her. Once up high enough to perch at the shoulder however? The jaws opened wide, and dug into it's jugular deep and hard. Blood spurting openly once the flesh was ripped away, her head jerking back to take the chunk clean off. Spat aside as Darck's figure scrambled back off the shoulder, landing low on the floor.

Her landing spot?

Smack between Chris Redfield and Veronica Tyrant. Rising up into standing, albeit hunched. Moving in eerily smooth motions. Much more like a predator than a person. And the human behind her, was part of the pack.

[wifeswarmacademy]

I have finished Tsukihime now. I am having some trouble piecing together my thoughts about the work as a whole so I am going to post this here. Its good, but the way that I thought it was good just changed over time. During Arcueids route, I was fascinated because it just felt like I was wandering through a dream. During the dark side of the moon routes, it stopped feeling like a big adventure as much as it was just watching some people with a lot wrong bickering over scraps of happiness to try to avoid being miserable together.

All of the girls are really good characters, but the awkward thing is that I still feel like I don't know most of them too well? Ciel is a pile of masks that runs so deep she seems barely aware of whatever she really wants to be like. Akiha is a tightly wound ball of frustrated desires, and I dont really know if anything would let her feel satisfied. Hisui seems to flip on a dime sometimes in a way that I struggle to understand (For a while I thought it might be kohaku impersonating her, but there still are some scenes of hisui that I dont get.) And Kohaku might be the most elaborated for where she is in the story, but I dont know what shes like when we see that flash forward. she is smiling. I want her to be able to live happily away from that all, and see what she can be with time to heal. Satsuki doesnt fit as one of the main girls, but I find her interesting. In the middle of everyone in the series who is so torn because they seem to barely know what they are and what they want, she continues to stand after being bitten as a vampire. she is so strongly tethered to what makes her her that she can continue as her own person. Its a neat contrast to everyone else seeming lost in what they are. I wish she was explored more.

I think the strangest thing to me is Shiki himself though. I dont like him. Its really frustrating reading stuff from him sometimes. And thats strange because he ticks so many boxes. I find the scenes where he goes into some trance and does violence to be fascinating to read. I was really interested when first starting because he seemed to be dissociating through life, which I presumed meant he was holding some trauma in him to be that distant. But it never really gets explored at all, he just seemed to have been half asleep for most of his life. Also in ciels route, when you see that inner child. I just took it to mean hes plural, which other people say isnt the case for him, but I am just choosing to believe that those are in universe claims that are wrong. Its strange because he ticks so many boxes as this hunter, and someone who just tries to be there for others. There are a lot of things about him where if they were described to be I would think hes a perfect fit for me. but I just dont like him. I think the thing that made my dislike for him snap is just how bad he is about consent. like, even apart from when hes in some trance and isnt acting of his own accord. He still doesnt stop when they say stop or that its uncomfortable. It really sucks and I think that made it go from dislike to hate. I do think its funny that the only time hes actually decent about consent is around kohaku because he knows shes a CSA victim. I guess next would come talking about the mysteries? I went into tsukihime basically entirely blind, which feels wild considering how often i would see people post these characters. I didnt even know vampires were a thing. But when I first saw arcueid and learned she was a vampire. I felt like everything snapped into place. Shes a vampire. He is some usurper, I could tell that that urge to kill was from there being something so far above, and dragging that down. hes not really in control then, but i could gather thats whats happening. As soon as proper church affiliated vampire hunters were mentioned, I knew ciel was that, and I knew from how she reacted to Shiki saying he was hunting a vampire that she was something that wasnt human, but wasnt a vampire. Hisui and Kohaku were also probably something weird, but that one I was the most in the dark for. It was pretty frustrating on most routes after the first just waiting for it to get through the mystery of what everyone is when I know the answers already. I think the structure is pretty bad, and they had an easy way out by dint of the amnesiac protagonist being able to get back different memories on each route. I still found it really fun in working out details and it was able to catch me off guard a few times. I could tell in Akiha's and Hisui's routes that he wasnt actually going to become a vampire. But in Kohaku's route it felt like i got punched in the gut. I thought that first time when he woke up with blood on his hands it was real, and to be honest I'm not fully convinced it isnt real, despite kohaku saying it wasnt real. Because having that dream conversation with SHIKI feels like it would be really hard to implant.

The weirdest thing for me in tsukihime, I dont get why roa isnt a thing in the dark side of the moon routes. I dont get why they wound up so differently. Its so segmented, and it felt bizarre not having Arcueid around when doing the second half of the game. While I thought the second half was less frustrating to read, Shiki is far less of a fool there. I also just was left wondering what the hell was happening differently.

Overall I liked Tsukihime. Its so riddled with some frustrating flaws that I find it hard to reccomend. But it has gripped my brain and I havent stopped thinking about it. I am looking forward to trying out whatever mess Kagetsu Tohya seems to be, and then im probably going to try to check out other type moon stuff. (i dont like fighting games so im probably not going to check out melty blood)

[strxngertogether]

// Also I have somewhat finetuned werewolf lore lol. Werewolves are affected by the moon, but it depends on how much they accept their wolf side and/or how well they control. Some wolves can get by with Just control if that's their personality type and control works for them, but 90% have to actually accept their wolf side before they can really control it. Someone who doesn't accept their wolf side/doesn't how to control it is gonna be extremely and only affected by the moon. They will not be able to shift outside of full moons and will almost definitely hurt people. But someone who accepts their wolf completely will likely be able to shift outside of the full moon and is most likely not going to hurt anyone unless they choose to.

Werewolves shift into an actual wolf form, not the bipedal half man half wolf set up. If their wolf is accepted, they will still have their human thoughts for the most part but if not, then they'll very much be all wolf in that form. Their human side may be able to be coaxed out somewhat but there is no guarantee. Most people will have wolf/dog like personality traits at all times, especially if they have been raised by an all or predominately werewolf family. The personality stuff depends tho cause everyone's different.

I also think being a werewolf is purely a genetic thing and not a disease (?) like vampirism. You're either born a werewolf or you're not. Oh and kids can transform at any age pretty much, it's not a puberty thing or anything like that. Haven't decided if pups are born in their wolf forms or not tho. If they're not, some kids may be able to shift earlier than others and some may be late bloomers. But I'd imagine if they're not born their wolf forms then most will be able to shift very very young, some after they start crawling and some before and some later.

Werewolves have accelerated healing, more so in their wolf form but it's always more accelerated than humans unless it's particularly nasty or was caused by silver. I'd imagine some wolves are more sensitive to silver than others. Some having a severe, deadly reaction to a minor scratch and others only having delayed healing from a minor scratch. I don't think werewolves are totally immortal when it comes to non silver blades or whatever else tho. If you get to a severe wound quick enough you may able to heal yourself and not die but with a shot to the heart or head it's fairly unlikely.

[meganmackieauthor]

I Can't Get the Vampire Rogue to Romance Me - Ch 9

Chapter 9

The actually-a-cleric-not-a-mage rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m a cleric,” she growled. 

“That’s great,” Evangeline said, smiling smugly over at Valerian. “See? Now aren’t you glad we rescued them?”

“Delighted!” he said with faux enthusiasm, a twinge of exhaustion tweaking the corners of his eyes. 

She understood it; she felt exhausted herself. It had been a busy day, and she still felt uncomfortable with her inability to remember whatever it was she was trying to remember. 

“I succeeded in the sanctuary spell,” Hagor reported, gesturing toward Valerian’s cloud of darkness, still hovering a few feet away. 

“Sanctuary?” Artmond asked, eagerly. “Oh, that sounds most splendid!”

“Follow me,” Hagor instructed and turned to walk into the dark cloud. 

Everyone else stood and stared after the druid.

“I assure you, just walk forward through the dark cloud. It’s all here.”

Evangeline was the first to do so. Sure enough, after two steps through the darkness, she passed through a door-like entrance made of branches bent together. 

On the other side was a beautiful partial glade filled with winking fireflies. A “wall” of bramble ringed the space, sealing it off from the rest of the forest, even though there were trees laced throughout. The glade had several places for sleeping like someone had formed the ground and trees into flat areas perfect for sleeping platforms, nestled amongst nature. Bedrolls were stacked in a pile next to a circle of stones where campfires had burned previously. 

Evangeline spun in place when she reached the campfire pit, her mouth opened in wonder. “It’s beautiful!” she said. 

“It’ll do,” Hagor said, clearly blushing, pleased with the praise.

“Oh dear, Lord. Where the hells are we?” Valerian appeared through the door, his eyes passing haughty judgment over the sanctuary. 

“A safe place where we can rest, eat, and heal. A place you didn’t have to do anything to acquire.”

His eyes widened at her, surprised by her sudden vehemence. 

She took a deep breath and calmed herself down. “It’s also exactly what you asked for, so you should just thankhim before he kicks you out to go snuggle a goblin.”

His widened eyes narrowed again. 

Why am I saying all this to him? she wondered to herself as she met that stare. She had no idea, but it felt … good. Like it was something she had been wanting… needing to say to him for a long time. But that is absurd. We only just met?

Valerian worked his jaw a moment, then forced a sharp smile. “Thank you very much for your hospitality,” he said with forced pleasantry to Hagor, along with a gallantly practiced half-bow to the druid. 

Hagor nodded in return, just as the other two of their newly formed party crossed the threshold into the sanctuary. 

“Oh, brilliant!” Artmond declared, his eyes wide with a child-like delight at the space. 

He and Sigismund passed over the threshold as well, their presence pushing Valerian and Evangeline apart. 

For his part, he smirked at her with his haughty eyes promising… She wasn’t sure what exactly. Then he nodded to her and sauntered away, snatching up a bedroll as he went past to presumably find the most secluded space to sleep. 

Evangeline let out a breath and rubbed at her temples. 

“Are you alright, Evangeline?” Hagor asked, concerned. 

“Yeah, I think I just need to sleep,” she said, forcing a smile. Then she glanced after the direction that Valerian went. “Man, I hate that guy,” she muttered. 

Hagor followed her gaze with a grunt, then offered a fresh smile, holding out a bedroll. “The sanctuary has some fresh food. It’s not much, but it will keep us alive tonight.”

“Sounds perfect, thank you, Hagor,” she said returning his smile. 

# # #

Sucking in a sharp deep breath, Evangeline sat up with a start. All around her were the sounds of a forest, the tree leaves swishing in the wind and birds chattering about what they planned to do that day. Feeling warm and comfortable inside the wool-lined leather of her bedroll, she blinked rapidly as she realized another truth. 

She remembered.

Not just the events of the previous day, but everything. Who she really was, where she came from, Meta and his strange gift. Everything…

“What the hell?” she whispered as she looked around the sanctuary glade. Sure enough, she recognized the “camp” space from the game, exactly as she remembered it on her TV screen but far more real and visceral… surreal. For one thing, she had just been sleeping on the ground, she should have been stiff and achy, but she was as rested as she would have been if she had slept in her bed. 

The others were still asleep in their bedrolls, spread out in the sleeping nooks, snoring softly. 

It’s all real, she thought, marveling. Still, the fact that she had forgotten everything about herself left her feeling equally unsettled. If she stayed in this world long enough, would she forget everything about herself?

Feeling disconcerted, she wanted to check her stats table again, wondering if maybe there were some answers there, and as soon as that thought slipped through her, the table floated before her as real as the trees and the bedroll. 

It looked much the same as it had yesterday except for a small message that flashed at the top. 

Full Rest complete. All life points restored. All abilities restored. 

She glanced over her stats, focusing once more on the Special Ability. Behind the name this time, she noticed seven filled-in ticks. Wrinkling at her nose at it, she wondered, What exactly does this Meta Knowledge do anyway? As soon as she asked it, a small box appeared with text in it beside the stat line. 

“Well, you’re up early,” a voice interrupted her before she could read it. 

Startling, she turned toward the voice to see Valerian standing there, shirtless with wet hair and a confident grin even as he hooded his eyes at her. She knew it was supposed to come off as sultry and mysterious. 

“I’m seeing things a little differently this morning. How about you?” he asked. 

To be continued...

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[athemarina]

writeblr intro!! finally!!

hello lovely people of the tumblr writing community <3 i'm marina (she/her) and i've had this blog for about a month now but so far Life and all its Obligations prevented me from making a proper intro post - here it finally is now, for everyone who'd like to get to know me and my projects a bit!

me as a person

i'm marina but you can also call me any nick name version of that and also any and all terms of endearment (can you tell i'm a libra). i'm 27, from austria, and speak german and english (pretty well), french (badly) and know how to order bread in korean (essential skill)

my interests include: philosophy, linguistics, horses, music, musicals, the city of paris, and also formula 1. yes i know this is random what can i say

i'm a full-time student and part-time capitalism worker-bee so depending on my schedule i might disappear for a bit, but i intend to always come back here to get inspired and get some work done! which leads me to...

me as a writer

i love coming up with new ideas and projects!! getting started is so much fun!! finishing things on the other hand!! is so hard!! send help!!

my fave genres (to read and to write): fantasy, sci-fi, works and words inspired by folklore and mythology - but really i like anything with compelling characters!

random things i love in writing: vampires (one day i'll write the Great Big Austrian Vampire Novella. alas, not today), characters that haunt the narrative, guilt and grief and healing from both, characters that make all the wrong choices, couples that have fun with each other, cryptic prophecies, sibling relationships, symbolic flowers

PLEASE COME TALK TO ME ABOUT WRITING!! i would really like to become part of a community here, so always feel free to come talk to me about your wips, my wips, the blorbo that lives in your head rent-free, the latest book you've read and loved... whatever you want to share i'd love to hear <3 you can also always tag me in games and challenges, but it might take me a bit to get to it, depending on how much real life hates me atm

my children: works in (never-ending) progress

i'm gonna make proper intro posts for all these projects soon, but to give you some idea of what i get up to, here are some short descriptions! some of these wips have been with me for a couple years, others are more recent, but they all haunt my every waking moment <;3

The Price of Wishing (first draft complete): good old sci-fi dystopian flair; a society that got rid of poverty by creating so called Houses of Service - institutions that will sell out their workers to the highest bidder for anything that people are willing to pay for. but it's not quite as simple as that: politics, organised crime, and a revenge plot years in the making all intersect at Isra's House of Service, and its inhabitants must learn to navigate these worlds - or they'll go down trying.

Forget Me (Not) (first draft about half-way done): wouldn't it be great to purge some of the mistakes we made from memory, not just our own but that of everyone? in a world in which the Chip implanted in everyone's neck records everything seen and experienced, this - collective forgetting - is the price celebrity contestants get to compete for in a reality tv show. each contestant has something they need the world to forget, but who can convince the viewers the most? the central theme of this story is grief, and when to hold on, and when to let go.

Attempts at Life (still in the outline stage): finn day and her brother felix know how their lives will play out: they were born in the lowest class society has to offer, and there they will stay. which is an unusual position for people like them to be in: both their souls were reborn for the fifth (and last) time; for them to have been assigned to this shitty life, they must have done something heinous in their previous one. finn is resigned to accept this punishment for a crime she can't even remember, but that's before the government offers her a position - she finds out things that change her view of society and herself forever, and she'll have to decide which one to save.

Untitled Fantasy (literally only thought of this last week): something something a necromancer brings back the hero of the ancient world to stop Something Bad from happening. only problem is - the hero does not remember ever being a hero. or anything at all, really. the rest of the world remembers, though. i'd love for this story to include some traditional austrian folklore elements! those are fun

so that's it! last but not least: if you've read this far, thank you so much omg you're my personal hero. i'm following a bunch of people already since i've been lurking for a couple weeks, but i'm always looking for new writers to get to know and support so pls interact with this post or shoot me a message and i'll check you out and follow you! and if you have any questions, or answers, or just wanna talk i'm very excited to get to know you all <3

[pippytmi]

Supercorp + Hogwarts AU + meet messy + "is that the best you can do?"

“Hey, do you guys want to see a muggle magic trick?”

Kara doesn’t have to look up to know Alex and Kelly are exchanging glances over Nia’s head. Nia is the best witch in the fifth year hands-down, but her grasp of muggle illusions leave a lot to be desired.

“Sure…” Kelly agrees, politely but unsurely, while Alex shakes her head.

“If this is that stupid coin trick again, Nia—” she starts, but Nia is already squeezing between them on the grass, unfolding a pack of muggle playing cards.

“It is not,” Nia says. “Prepare to be amazed! Yvette says I’m really good at this one.”

“Oh, joy,” Alex mutters under her breath, which turns into a pained yelp when Kelly elbows her in the ribs.

Kara finally raises her gaze from the newspaper she’s been half-reading, fully prepared to commit to Nia’s trick, but then she catches a glimpse of dark hair and a brisk pace. It’s Lena Luthor, notorious loner, actually sitting outside by the black lake with her books.

It’s odd—Lena never sits outside. People talk; Lena doesn’t have many friends (someone even started a rumor that Lillian Luthor pays Jess, another sixth year, to hang out with Lena). In fact, the only time anyone really sees Lena is in class, or in the Slytherin common room when Jess is also there. Kara sees her even less (only when Slytherin and Gryffindor share classrooms), but that doesn’t make the hopeless crush she’s fostered on her since they were eleven any less potent.

Kelly starts clapping suddenly, reluctantly dragging Kara’s eyes from Lena (who is reading a book; Kara is wondering just what kind of book it is). “Aw, Nia, that was good!” she says. “Do it again!”

Even Alex is curiously lifting up the cards one by one, as if trying to determine the trick herself. “Did you use actual magic for this?” she asks.

“I’m just that good,” Nia brags, though the way she tries to expertly shuffle the cards right back into their box suggests otherwise; half of them spill onto the grass. “Oh man!”

“I’ve got this,” Kara says, absentmindedly reaching for her wand. “Accio—”

“Kara, no!”

Oh, that’s right, Kara thinks belatedly. My wand is broken. It had been an unfortunate event on the Quidditch pitch involving an overzealous Hufflepuff seeker (Winn is still very apologetic about it, but it can’t be helped now). Unfortunately, Kara never seems to quite remember that magic is off-limits until it can be fixed.

And even more unfortunate is the fact that her mind and her words have begun to converge; she’s thinking about the book Lena is reading while glancing at the cards, and her mouth is forming silent words, and really it’s not a surprise at all when said book rockets out of Lena’s hands and aims right for Nia’s head.

No one dies, though, nor do they have to make the unpleasant trudge to the infirmary—Kelly is far quicker than any of Kara’s botched magic, and the book explodes into nothing when she mutters a firm, “Evanesco.”

“Kelly!” Kara forgets, for a second, about the whole Nia-about-to-break-her-face thing; her heart drops to the pit of her stomach at the thought that something of Lena Luthor’s has been reduced to figurative dust. What if that book was personal? What if it was special? What if it was—

“Excuse me,” says a quiet, sudden voice, and Kara just about falls over in the grass at the sight of Lena Luthor standing there. “I think you summoned my book.”

Kelly winces. “Oh, actually—”

“I destroyed it,” Kara blurts out, because really, this is her fault and Nia still has a face so the least Kara can do is take a fall for a friend. “I’m sorry. My wand is broken, and I was trying to summon some cards, but I was looking at you and thinking about your book and it just…I’m sorry. Again. I can pay for it?” She immediately begins digging into the pockets of her robes, but all she manages to scrounge up is a broken sugar quill and a drawing on a torn sheet of paper that depicts Professor Grant as a dragon.

For a moment, all Lena does is stare down at Kara in a peculiarly quizzical way. She doesn’t seem mad or anything, just perplexed. A second later she says, “You were thinking about ‘Voyages with Vampires’ strongly enough to summon it? I don’t really enjoy Gilderoy Lockhart books myself.”

“To be fair,” Kara’s quick to defend herself, “I couldn’t read the title from this far.”

“Right. You decided you wanted to snatch my book from me because it was mine.” And just like that, the curious expression on Lena’s face drops entirely, twists into something resigned and exhausted. “Is that the best you can do? Petty little child games?”

“What? No, I would never—”

“Because last week Eve Tessmacher hit me with a furnunculus curse that was far more clever than this,” Lena all but sneers. “It’s always the pig-headed Gryffindors that aim out of their league.”

“You wanna say that again?” Alex is jumping up, her wand brandished out, and Lena glances from her to Kara to Kelly to Nia, as if just realizing how potentially outnumbered she could be.

Except, well, that’s so not the issue. Kara hastens to stand between Alex’s wand and Lena’s body, nearly knocking her sister over in the process. “No! No, I didn’t do that as a prank, I—” She pauses, feels her cheeks go hot, and then rushes out, “Ijustthinkyou’rereallypretty!”

Alex lowers her wand; Kara can tell, because Alex uses it to jab her in the ribs. “Oh, bloody hell,” Alex grumbles, and she nudges Kelly to join her. “I think that’s our cue. I’d rather study for Potions than watch this.”

Kelly obligingly drags Nia along, who looks like she wants to protest, but eventually Nia caves in—though not without trying to wink conspiringly at Kara, which doesn’t work because Nia “winks” with both eyes.

“But—” Kara watches as her friends scatter, and then she is left with the heavy, accusatory gaze of Lena Luthor. She tries to smile, but imagines her attempt is more of a wince than anything. “Did I mention that I’m sorry?”

Lena takes a step forward. She raises her chin in the air, no less guarded, but her eyes convey a tiny bit of that earlier curiosity all the same. “You’ve already had your fun, Kara Danvers,” she says. “But I will give you credit, no one has played the ‘I have a crush on you’ prank yet.”

Kara frowns. “Do people really play pranks on you so much?”

“I am the weird little sister of a boy who tried to blow up Hogwarts,” Lena all but deadpans. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re way more than Lex Luthor’s sister, and that’s just...really mean,” Kara says, words bursting out before she even pauses to rein them in. “I mean, you are so smart! Last year you saved a bunch of first years who wandered into the Forbidden Forest. A-and you never tried out for Quidditch, but sometimes you fly with Jess on the pitch and you’re so fast you could easily run circles around anyone on the Slytherin team. You’re the coolest person ever. Even when you were eleven, you—” Finally, her brain starts to catch up with her mouth, and Kara flushes hotter than she ever thought possible. “Oh, gosh. I’m sorry. I swear, I didn’t mean for that to sound…stalker-y. I only know about the first year thing because Professor Grant’s son was new that year and I was supposed to be babysitting him. And then the flying, well, sometimes I go to the pitch with Winn whenever he wants to practice—”

“Kara. You can breathe any time you want,” Lena prompts, and Kara pauses to do exactly that.

“Sorry,” Kara adds, again, after she’s let her lungs rest a bit. Her whole body feels shivery from head to toe, like she is seconds away from fainting, and honestly? She just might. “Anyway. Um. I can replace that book if you want. Or I can give you the money and you can pick out a better one, since you said you weren’t a fan? Whatever you want.”

Lena is quiet for a beat. “What were you going to say before? About when I was eleven?”

Kara bites her lip so hard she knows she will inevitably have to ask Kelly to heal it later. “Oh, that,” she says evasively. “I meant, when you were eleven, and I walked face-first into the wrong wall trying to get to platform nine and three quarters, and you didn’t even laugh at me. You just...helped me up, and promised you would walk with me to the train until I found my family again.”

“I remember,” Lena says, and her voice is softening, as is her expression. “You somehow got lost between platforms seven and eight. Your sister was furious when she caught up with us.”

“Yeah.” And Kara finds herself smiling at that memory; this time it’s a real smile, and she couldn’t stop it if she tried. “That was really nice.” She wants to mention more—how even when Lillian Luthor scowled at Kara’s hand-me-downs, Lena complimented her right away on the shirt that had once been Alex’s—but all Kara does right now is step back. “I’ve bothered you enough, I think. Will you…let me know? About the book?”

“I don’t care about the book,” Lena says, and she swallows, loud enough that Kara can hear it. “Do you mean it?”

“That you’re...nice?”

“Yes.” Lena’s cheeks are a faint pink color, and Kara’s entire mouth goes dry.

“Well, yeah,” Kara says, and in that moment—with Lena blushing, and Kara’s chest tightening—they both know that she’s confessing to so much more than thinking Lena is nice. “So. Um.” She squares her shoulders, and prepares to be brave enough to live up to the Gryffindor name: “Can I buy you something that’s not a book? Sometime? Maybe on our next trip to Hogsmeade?”

“Like a date?” Lena asks, so impossibly soft, and Kara nods.

“Exactly like a date,” Kara says, and honestly, she should demand ten points to Gryffindor herself because her voice does not waver once.

And Lena Luthor smiles, just cautious enough to show how unsure she is, but still warm enough that Kara’s heart skips a beat. “Okay,” she says. “But on one condition: I’ll handle any magic until then.”

“Deal,” Kara agrees, and it’s official; breaking her wand might have been the best thing that has ever happened to her, ever.

[imaginingmanyfandoms]

No i dont have a specific request. I just want Volturi King headcanons if you dont mind

i need feedback on these, i don't know how well i write for the kings

ARO:

he would be tempted to just read all your thoughts because he wants to learn all of you

but also he would be so fascinated by you that he would want to first get to know you by talking to you

you would spend countless hours talking to him

how you met: he'd been watching you in your village for many weeks. you were a medicinal herbalist, and the way plants responded to your care, he knew you would be magnificent as a vampire. but when he approached you he fell in love. he let you apprentice someone knew before he took you away. at last wish, if you will. you didn't want your village to suffer from your farewell, but you would go with him happily.

he would give you a few human weeks to adapt and understand how life in the castle worked, so you didn't have to learn the rules while also trying to overcome thirst & strength

in that time, he would host elaborate tea parties for you

filled with all the food & drink he used to love

he would watch you eat it with awe, enjoying the novelty of reliving his human days

heidi is your best friend; maybe it started with her undeniable charm, but she was so flattered when you started inviting her to do things over the phone, meaning you truly liked her for her and didn't feel compelled to hangout with her

when aro was too busy to do something with you, you would help heidi with her elaborate schemes

after your thirst & newbornism was under control he would build you an apothecary cabin somewhere hidden from the world

somewhere for you to spend your time fiddling with plants and herbs

you would have another apprentice, someone who to trained to take care of your garden while you were away

aro would dislike it whenever you tried to join the guard

"you are my beautiful spouse, not my guard."

"i can make the trees attack people. i control the trees my love."

he still wouldn't want it, he would want you to spend your time doing things you loved, not going on missions

he would want to hide you from the violence he ordered

he would make you a library, filled with books of herbs and plants and medicine for you to study

he would find you records and records of vinyl for you to listen to

he would try to give you jewels and treasures too often

you would often run up to him, smacking your hand somewhere on his body while talking about a pretty flower you saw

imagine just like open palm sticking your hand on his face and saying "look how interesting it is. look at the healing properties but also it's so cute!" with your hand covering half his face

CAIUS:

he would love you so much

and if you showed him any kind of affection back he would melt

how you met; you were one of aro's treasures. instead of letting your small coven face death, you went voluntarily. that kind of loyalty was something aro respected. you were someone with an amazing ability to calm anyone. to draw their fears out and replace it with euphoria, even while staring death in the face. aro loved you, loved the way you didn't feel bad about killing someone - just that they shouldn't have to feel afraid to die. also you didn't have to fight because your victim would stand calmly while you ripped them apart.

caius didn't want you on the guard, but you insisted.

"gives me somewhere to be while you're busy, my sweet."

felix has direct orders to protect you above all else (except the secret - of course) when you're on a mission

he would need you to love him and much as he loved you

but also he's a but of a grump

so he could be grumpy and still try to compliment you

"well don't you look just beautiful"

"remember how we talked about how things don't sound sincere when you say it like that."

anything you asked for would be his command to grant

and when you wanted to spend time with him, he would give you his full attention when he could

you would become good friends with demetri, and caius would hate it

not because he didn't trust you or demetri.

there were no secrets in Volterra...

but because after you'd spent too much time with demetri, some of his personality would rub off on you, and caius is a calm afternoon type of guy

one time during a pleasant walk through the garden you threw a water balloon at him

he stood frozen in wet robes as you laughed at him, jumping on his back and places kisses all over him

you brought out a little more fun in him, and while he looks like he hates it; he actually really appreciates it

MARCUS:

he was miserable before you

thousands of years of waiting to find his mate

but when you came, it was like a whole new marcus

he was still tired of being alive, but he now would rather live than leave your side

you will fill his senses with things he'd long since stopped appreciating

music sounded lovelier

flowers smelled prettier

poems had meaning again

how you met; you were brought in for questioning regarding an old travelling companion of yours. you offered the information to aro without a second thought, and he saw in your mind that you would never question, or stand against the volturi. marcus saw you in the throne room, and couldn't keep his eyes or thoughts anywhere else. you were exquisite. a gift to the eyes. he'd ask you to stay for a bite. and then he'd ask you to stay indefinitely. as a vampire it's pretty hard to find a home, so you accepted.

marcus would fill your days with things you enjoyed

walking through the garden, reading poems, watching movies

whatever you liked to do, he was eager to do with you

he was always worried about your safety

so he turned a professional mma fight into a vampire and gave him the order to protect you with his life

aro & caius thought it was excessive but... they didn't say anything

he wanted you to be happy with him

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Prompt: Vampire Chris drunk on blood?

CW: Drunkenness, drug addiction, blood drinking, vampirism, creepy abusive comfort, WWI-period-appropriate xenophobia and brief vague possible homophobia reference, dehumanization, war whump

"Now, that'll get you blotto faster'n French liquor," Kirk says, sinking back against the muddy trench wall, careless for the dirt caking itself into the hair at the nape of his neck.

His helmet lay beside him upside down on the ground, and his brown hair was free to explode in its wealth of curls, a kind of halo around his head. He had one arm out, sleeve rolled back. His hands were caked in mud and smeared with drying dirt - above the line of his sleeve, though, the skin was paper-white, almost clammy.

It was this white skin that the vampire's fangs were buried in.

"Shit, Holden, y'gotta have 'im bite you, too." Kirk's grin widens. The shells had gone silent but every man flinches, now and then, hearing a phantom sound or feeling a rumble beneath their feet.

At least it's finally stopped goddamn raining.

The venom rolls through Kirk's veins, soothing his jangled nerves. He can barely feel the trembling in his hands and it feels like his mind, when it's in him. He's a farm kid from western Nebraska, the second son and not needed so much as the first to bring the crops in. So here he is, learning to love the feeling of teeth in his skin.

Maybe when he gets shipped back home he'll stick to the cities. They say the vampires have their dens there, where they can hide. You can buy venom enough to quiet your mind for a day or two, the city boys tell him.

They're in it as deep as he is, now.

Feels like half the American army is itching for venom these days.

"No thank you. I'm not gonna get sent home and start chasing fangs like the rest of you." Holden squints, looking up into the dark sky, the rolling clouds that seem far too close to the ground. "It'll rain again soon."

"When isn't it going to rain again soon? Oh, right, when it's already bloody raining." That's a Brit, they just call him Tommy. No one knows his real name.

He claims to hate them all, but since half his unit was blasted apart two days ago, he's hung with the 'Yanks' close enough. Kirk thinks he's fond of them, even if he won't admit it. Or just scared to be alone. He can understand that. He's terrified of the thought himself. "Shove the little vamp over to me, Kirk, I want some."

The vampire pulls his fangs free, licking over the wounds he's made until they close. He's a skinny little thing, pale as paper with bright red hair they stuff under his helmet when he's running medic checks in No Man's Land, trying to make him less obvious. Sure, he can't die from gas, but he can be blown to bits by a whizz-bang fast as any living soldier can.

"Please," The vampire says, turning big green eyes up to Kirk. "I, I, I'm tired, please, can I sleep?"

He's got heavy dark circles under his eyes. It's kind of cute.

"No," Kirk answers, curt, shoving the vampire away by his head, watching him fall into the mud. His uniform is marked with it, now, a dab of dirt over the 'V' sewn next to his medic's cross. There's a satisfaction, in Kirk, just in seeing the little thing laid low.

He won't die in this war, and Kirk probably will, but before that happens he can at least hurt something he can see. You can't see old Fritz when you fire on him from a distance - but you can see a vampire flinch in the dirt. It's not much.

It's something.

"Must be daytime," Holden speaks up, still staring up at the clouds. "You can't tell, weather like this, but if the fangs're tryin' to sleep, must be day."

"He sleeps when we're done with him, and not a moment before." Kirk's voice is a murmur, eyes half-closed. He's drifting in it, the way the venom dulls and deadens the eternal ache in his back and legs. The Germans could come roaring over the bags right this second and Kirk wouldn't give a damn at all. Let them kill him, at least he can go with venom in his veins, not as a basket case carried off the field. "Not a second before. Go on, bloodsucker. Get over to Tommy and help him get some shut-eye, huh?"

"I've been drinking all night, pulled some rations off someone," Tommy groans, rubbing his fingers at his temples. "It's done no good at all." It's a funny little gesture, so oddly normal and casual. Reminds Kirk of home.

His throat tries to close, homesickness bowling him over. The wish to return to his mother's worn smile, sit down to dinner and have her ask him about his day, when his problems revolved around the harvest and the hard backs of the pews in church-

He takes a breath, forcing it back, and gives the vampire a vicious kick in the ribs, listening to his high-pitched cry and how he curls around himself with a smile of his own.

Oh, he'll die, probably. The others from his town already have. But he can remind himself he's still alive, for now. One way or another. He can cause pain he can't feel himself, for once.

"I said get over to Tommy and smooth out his sharp bits, bloodfuck."

"Yes, um, y-yes, Kirk," The vampire says, pulling himself onto his hands and knees. His fingers are smashed into the mud deep enough to nearly disappear. If they could only get a few days of sunlight to dry out all this dirt, it wouldn't be such hell.

As it is, his socks've been damp for weeks, his boots feel like they're caging his feet in a swamp. He's worried about trenchfoot and trying not to think about it. He stole these boots off a dead German when his own started to fall apart, anyway.

He could've probably gotten new ones, but... it had felt good, taking something from Fritz after Fritz took so much from him.

Kirk tries not to remember that the German soldiers he fights have never caused him a single moment's harm on purpose. They're only fighting for the same reasons he is - because someone higher up who doesn't give a damn about them said to.

Kirk had been all gung-ho for the war until he'd been sent over here to fight it. All those articles in the newspapers, all the speeches given by men standing in town squares... it had all made it seem so patriotic.

They never tell you, Kirk thinks bitterly, that you'll be sent into a slaughterhouse. They don't tell you you'll spend your day breaking a vampire's fingers one by one just to watch them heal back into place and listen to his little cries.

Just to pass the time.

"Trade me your flask while the fangs takes care of you," Kirk says, and Tommy hands it over easy enough.

He watches Tommy grab the vampire by one arm and yank him over, vicious and violent, making the vampire boy cry out again. The sound is starting to grate on Kirk's nerves. It makes him sound too human. He hates being reminded that every vampire used to be a person.

He drinks whatever's in the Brit's flask, and it burns down his throat just the way he needs it to. Wipes out his worries, relaxes shoulders that seem always to be tensed up nearly to his chin.

His mama's a teetotaler, back in Nebraska. He'd been one, too, until the first bombardment. Now he drinks anything he could get his hands on, and the officers mostly looked the other way.

"Bite," Tommy orders. Kirk raises his eyebrows when Tommy doesn't roll up his sleeve but pushes the vampire's face instead towards his neck, turning his head to the side to bare it.

His eyes meet Kirk's, and he smiles, bitterly. "Works faster this way," He explains. Kirk just watches as the vampire's fangs glint in the eternal dim twilight, hesitating before they bury themselves in Tommy's skin.

The little monster's back arches, pressing them chest-to-chest. A low rumble comes from somewhere deep inside, the animal sound the vampire makes during a good feed. He doesn't do it much with the regular unit any longer, they mocked him for it and one day he stopped.

The vampire's throat works as he drinks, and Tommy's arm slides around the monster's thin shoulders, forcing him closer. He's nearly kissing his forehead, this way.

It's an embrace, and altogether more intimate of one than Kirk thought he'd ever see from the cold, standoffish Brit. He feels a blush creeping up his neck and his cheeks as Tommy lets his head fall back, groaning softly in a kind of contentment as the venom hits. The sound isn't quite like a groan at all, it's more like-

"Fucking hell, Tommy, are you an invert?"

"Invert suggests I give a damn what bites me," Tommy replies, without opening his eyes. His slurred speech deepens, goes slow. His hand curves around the vampire's shoulder, holding him tightly. "I'm after oblivion, lads. I don't care what parts the fangs have that give it to me."

"Fang-chaser," Holden says, good-naturedly. Clearly not bothered the way Kirk is. Maybe that's just his farmboy past talking, that he's even unsettled at all. Maybe Tommy's got a point - who cares what's between a vampire's legs if you're only interested in the damn thing's mouth in the first place? "Fucking fang-chaser, that's what you are. End up in a den getting your hips bit like Oscar Wilde."

"Who's Oscar Wilde?"

Holden laughs. "You should try reading a book or three sometime, Kirk."

"Sure, sure, whenever I get the damn time in-between running over this blasted nothing. In any case, Tommy's definitely a fang-chaser."

"Guilty as charged... just like you two." Tommy's hand slides up into the vampire's hair, gripping tight and gently pulling backwards. The vampire's fangs slide free, and it laps at the wounds, rapidly. Tommy groans again. Kirk finds himself unable to look away at the bob of Tommy's throat. How good does it feel, in the neck? He's never thought to try it. He thinks about it now. "Turn me in to face discipline for unnatural relations with the fangs and I'll do the same to you."

"Yeah, yeah, we got it. Fucking Limey bastard." There's no real animosity in Kirk's voice. He's too distracted, drunkenly considering the vampire boy's mouth. Wondering if he knows how to kiss. "You shared your liquor, I shared our bloodsucker, we're both of us in it to our necks."

"Not me," Holden says, innocent and pure as the driven snow. As if he weren't the one to give Kirk the idea to use the venom in the first place.

Kirk throws a clot of mud at him, which he dodges, laughing. They're all laughing, soon enough, except for the fangs.

The vampire lays there, his head pressed to Tommy's chest and forcibly held in place by his arm. His eyes are slightly wide, unfocused, and Kirk leans forward.

"What's this, then? What'd you do to the fangs, Tommy?"

"Hm? Nothing. Oh, I'm pissed as can be, do they feel the liquor in your blood?"

"I'm guessing they sure do. You drunk, fangs?"

The vampire's eyes drift over to Kirk, move too far to one side, come back again. He swallows, thickly. "I... I think I, I, I am," He says, and tries to push back against Tommy's chest, to free himself.

The Brit's arm crushes him back into place, his other hand moving up to run through the vampire boy's dirt red hair, petting him like one of the ambulance dogs. Kirk and Holden laugh at the vampire's weakness. "Stay right where you are," Tommy murmurs. "Or I'll run you through with my bayonet and let you squirm all day."

"Christ," Kirk says, blinking. "That's a bit rough, isn't it?"

"He's not alive, what does it matter?" Tommy lets out a bitter little laugh. "Might as well get a preview of our own ends, shouldn't we?"

"You two, maybe." Holden crawls into the dugout, the little bed-space, a kind of cave dug in underneath the upper layers of the trench. He lays down on his back, closing his eyes, hands behind his head. "I'm going to go back home and never think of you lot ever again."

"I pray every night to make it home," Kirk says, nodding along. "Not sure anyone's listening, but I got to try, don't I?"

"What happens to the fangs, anyway?" The Brit looks up, rocking a little back and forth. As if the bloodsucker were a baby needing soothing. The vampire boy has relaxed against him, the liquor-laced blood he drank lulling him into a complacent bonelessness. Kirk watches the vampire boy's fingers start to tap over the Brit's chest, a strange movement he's seen the boy do before in his few relaxed moments between the scream of the shells. He hums, low in his throat, tuneless.

"Huh?" Kirk blinks. "What d'you mean, what happens to him?"

"After the war's done. What are they gonna do with the bloodsuckers? Can't exactly pin a bloody ribbon for valor on them and send them on their way, now can they?"

"Nope. I don't know what happens. Maybe they'll just stake them all and have done with them."

The vampire shudders, giving a little whimper. Tommy leans down, lips moving against the vampire's hair. "Ssssshhhh. Not to worry, little fangs. War's not over just yet, now is it?"

"N-... no. Not, not, not, not yet." The vampire's eyes close, pink-tinged tears creating pale tracks in his dirty face. He's a sad drunk, then, Kirk figures.

Aren't they all, these days.

"Maybe you'll outlive us all, and make fools of us for keeping you." Tommy speaks with a patronizing affection, as mocking as it is tender, petting through the creature's hair still. It's... unsettling to watch. Kirk had figured the Brits and French probably killed all their vamps, since they were all disturbed by the sight of the vampire medics when the doughboys first arrived in Europe.

This, though... this makes it seem like Tommy's known a vampire or two himself, in his life. And he's sure as fuck not unfamiliar to what venom is good for outside of giving relief from agony to the injured.

Kirk frowns, thoughtful.

He's turned into a thoughtful drunk, too, thanks to this goddamn war. Sad and thoughtful. What a fucking waste.

"Sleep," Tommy says, almost gently, to the drunk little vampire. "I've got you. Sleep, little one."

The vampire's eyes slip closed. He doesn't breathe - there's no sense of his chest rising and falling. Kirk has to look away before the sense of wrongness, watching Tommy cuddle a corpse, makes him sick.

He takes a long, long draught from the flask, and relishes the burn that reminds him he's human, and alive.

His own eyes slip shut, and he prays for an hour or two of sleep before the next screaming shell bursts overhead.

-

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