#vampire weeknight

[prehistoric-megafauna]

Everything I’ve ever been striving towards in my career, in my field specifically is because of all the people I’ve lost. But nothing will ever be a better visual mediation to me on grief than the Buffy episode The Body.

[send-me-a-puffalope]

Vanessa Afton every Tuesday Papillomatosis chapter drop

[potatoesandsunshine]

8 and 59!

8: Vampire Weeknight - Jenny Owen Youngs

Pacing like a bobcat in the kitchen Or up the stairs just solitaire-ing in my room Preacher's on the late-night television Saying "… soon"

59: Seven Nation Army - Unwoman

And I'm talking to myself at night Because I can't forget Back and forth through my mind Behind a cigarette

[corvidcrossbow]

~•♡•~ Double The Fangs, Double The Fun

➳ Summary: Daryl and Scud are regulars at the bar you work at, but they're only really there for you. One night while chatting, you injure yourself, so they help you home to heal up (Vamp!Daryl & Vamp!Scud x Fem!Reader)

➳ Setting: idfk sometime, somewhere, no apocalypse (this is a crossover fic for smut lets be real)

➳ Word count: 5.5k (3k of it is smut)

➳ C/W: VAMPIRES ‼️‼️, minor wound, blood (duh), biting/vampire feeding, double penetration, hints of Scud's mommy kink

➳ A/N: I wrote doc title for this as “DTFx2” cuz of the lettering, not even realizing the “down-to-fuck” till later, plus it being 2 partners – I cooked on this title. BUT ANYWAY I AM FUELING THE VAMP!DARYL FIRE AND VAMP!SCUD TOO BECAUSE THIS IS A PLAGUE AND I AM ILL AND I WILL SPREAD IT

You stretched your arms up over your head, leaning forward against the counter in front of you. It was another slow weeknight, no customers present, hindered by the fact the bar was tucked away in some deader part of the city. It was pretty boring, but you got paid for kinda just diddleling around a lot of the time. You rhythmically tapped your fingertips against the surface, but straightened up when the door jingled open.

“Fuck, I was about to start praying you two would show up. ‘Ts borin' as shit in here,” You laughed as two familiar faces walked in from the night; Daryl and Scud. They were your regulars, stopping by most any time you were on shift. And you heard from coworkers sometimes they'd show up, see that you weren't there, and just leave.

You never found it creepy though, it wasn't like that. They were always very respectful towards you, kind of chivalrous, but not obnoxiously. They'd always buy a drink and tip heavy, or just straight up give you money – and would scare off the actually creepy drinkers: the one's that'd prey on a woman as if she was frail. You didn't require them, having pepper spray and a gun beneath the counter, but they gave you extra security. And we're good company.

Scud, who you knews real name was Josh – the more ‘loverboy’ one of the two – popped by most nights after work. He was really sweet, having grown a soft spot for him and letting him bend the rules; like allowing him to smoke a joint, or three, inside, so long as he shared them with you. He claimed he was a sort of engineer, which you found a little surprising given you'd never seen him without the skunky smell of weed wafting around his figure, but it's not like it mattered to you.

Daryl, on the other hand, was much more reserved, and you'd be lying if you said that didn't intrigue you. He appeared older, and more of a rarity, seeming to drift in and out of town: which made sense given that scratchy, deep southern accent he carried.

“Ain't gon’ pass up seein’ ya, moonshine,” Daryl grinned as he sauntered up to take a seat, Scud following right behind and taking the one opposite him. ‘Moonshine’ is what he always called you, given you were a bartender, and it was ironic because you never saw either of them till after sundown. “Shift slow?”

“Painfully,” You groaned and rolled your eyes. “Ion even know how we get enough profit to keep this place open. Not sure anyone in our staff remembers the last time we saw the owner in person. I swear this is some money laundering scheme.”

“‘Least your gettin’ paid, yeah? My boss don't even got me onna regular schedule,” Scud tisked, reaching into the pocket of his large, layered jacket and pulling out the container he kept his joints in. “Ya wanna J?”: To which you nodded and he passed you one. Daryl's observant gaze watched your every movement, as he typically did.

“Ya get yer nails done, darlin’?” He asked, squinting his pale blue eyes and setting his hand out as you lit the joint.

“Hm?” Your eyes flicked to him, understanding, and you set your palm in his hand so he could see. Pressed to your nail beds were coffin acrylics, painted a rich red, the gloss making them almost bloody. “Jus’ got ‘em done this morning. Figured if ‘m gonna be sittin’ here twiddling my thumbs half the time they might as well look good.”

“Looks perfect on ya.” Your gazes locked together for a moment, hypnotic in a way as his irises seemed to pulse, then suddenly shift down. He loomed closer and ran his thumb over your fingers, appreciating the gleaming texture that reflected in the dim light.

“Real pretty momma's,” Scud added as he took a long drag of his smoke, holding it for a moment before skillfully exhaling in a long plume that dissipated and began to fill the small space with a haze.

“Mm, thank you boys,” You turned a little, offering a bashful smile at their endless complimenting – they showered you with affectionate comments every time they came in. “Either of you want somethin’? It can be on the house, think the workers drink more than customers.”

“‘Ll take'ah whiskey – ‘nd m’payin’ ya anyway, angel,” Daryl replied, fishing for his wallet and passing you bills that more than doubled the price of a shot. Frankly you felt bad sometimes, like you were taking his money, but gave up a long time ago with trying to decline. He insisted.

As you went to grab the iconic bottle of Jack Daniel's off the shelf behind you, your elbow stuck out a bit too far and knocked over a large glass you'd been using for water, sending it to the floor where it shattered. “Ugh, never complain that you're bored at work. Fate'll always make ya clean.”

You quickly poured the auburn grog into a shot and slid it across the wood countertop to Daryl, dropping to your knees to pick up the larger shards.

“Fuck!” You seethed, accidentally slicing open the palm of your hand by sweeping it over the edge of a fragment in the other, your joint nearly falling from where you'd pinched it between your lips. Both men bounded from their stools to look over, simultaneously uttering ‘Ya alrigh's?''s. You half-clutched your fist and rose to be level again, hitching your breath with a small whine as striking pain electrified your nerves.

Blood quickly began to spill from the gash, running down your wrist and upper forearm before dripping to the floor a couple times as Daryl snapped to grab a clean rag from behind the bar so you could hold pressure, moving so fast he registered as just a whoosh. As your eyes were shut in pain, theirs were blown open, locked onto the crimson that tinted your skin. They could see the microscopic way it gushed a bit more from every beat of your heart.

Tendrils of that sweet, mind warping scent curled through the air and around the pair's bodies. God it smelled so damn good – you smelled so good. They didn't wish you harm, but they'd just been agonizingly waiting to someday, by some chance, get to smell the life-giving fluid that pumped through your veins without the blockage your skin created, keeping the complete experience inside of you. And they could only dream of getting to taste it…

You spun back to face them, and swore for a second, the color of both their blue eyes had altered to match the plasma soaking into the grey washcloth in your grip – their faces flat like they hadn't eaten in years and you just baited the idea of a gourmet feast. But once you blinked, they were back to azure, concern etched across eyebrows and frowns. Maybe it was just the shitty brilliance of the bar.

“‘M fine, jus’ being mindless I guess. Scud, how the hell are ya smokin’ and working with wires ‘n soldering shit,” You shook your head, blaming your incident on the brain fog from weed, although it was a poor excuse given it should not have taken effect that fast. Perhaps you were just embarrassingly locked on auto-pilot.

“Ya look like yer bleedin’ bad, princess. Lemme see.” Daryl beckoned you over and took your hand. His body tensed, that dangerous feeling of his canines extending creeping up. It took all he had to not press his mouth to you. He knew better, he had control. You let him remove the rag, examining the cut and finding it to be quite deep, him stating it might have to be closed

“We don't got any medical stuff here ‘sides maybe a few bandaids. I'd be surprised if anybody else came in ‘ere tonight so I'll just close up ‘n deal with it home. Sorry to cut our chat time short guys…” You gave a half frown, taking an unsteady inhale and trying to mask the aching in your extremity. You smothered the joint, enjoyment ruined.

“Don't gotta apologize mama's. Wantcha to be okay,” Scud commented, mirroring your expression. Looking between him and Daryl, you felt there was some synergy connecting them, like they were communicating despite both staring at you.

“Why don't we take ya home, mebbe have me patch tha fer ya, hm?” Daryl suggested, readjusting his leather jacket as he tilted his head slightly.

“Oh, no. I don't wanna bother either of ya with that…”

“‘Ts no bother, sugar. We wanna make sure you're safe. ‘Ts late, dark, ‘nd you're bleedin’. Don't want anythin’ bad happening to ya,” Scud explained, his every word ending on a sort of mewl as he plucked his joint from his mouth to speak clearly.

“Alright – just cause I know you two will follow me to check anyway.” You grabbed your things, Daryl and Scud helping to close up the bar so you didn't further injure yourself, then leaving with you. It was reasonable for them to come with, and this wouldn't be the first time. And this wasn't the safest part of town, so it wouldn't hurt to have them.

❥-》》—————➣

When you returned to your apartment, both of them praised your designing of the interior, having not been inside before. To you it wasn't much of anything special, but again, it was just in their nature to say kind things to you.

You nodded Daryl in the direction of your bathroom so he could grab some ointment and gauze, going to sit on the couch as Scud plopped beside you. You easily could've nursed it yourself, but if there was anything you really knew about Daryl, it was his tendency to always be doing favors – and not letting you decline.

“Y'know… I know a way tah make that heal faster than any dressings could,” Scud broke the silence, dragging his gaze over your frame, and landing on your hand where you still held the soiled rag. He couldn't fucking take it anymore. He didn't have the control that Daryl did.

“What do you mean?” You now faced him, confused at the way his breathing seemed to grow a bit heavier, chest puffing further out despite his lazy posture. But he straightened some, scooting closer to you and reaching for your hand.

“Just trust me on this…” He was salivating, bottom lip practically trembling with anticipation. He was so close, access to your fresh blood right there. God how he ached for it every time he saw your beautiful face, just so damn entranced by you. He tried not to completely lose his mind as he neared your palm.

“Um… yer gonna get it infected doin’ that.”

“Won't.” And his mouth hovered right above it.

“Seriously, Scud, what are you doing?” Now you were concerned, tempted to call Daryl back. Was this some weird sex thing? His way of trying to seduce you? Taking ‘kiss my boo-boo to make it feel better’ a bit too far. But you sensed this… energy, radiating off of him, drawing out your naïve trait of curiosity. Something felt different about him, although you guess it always did – but only now could you really perceive it, having him so close. “What are you? ”

Scud's eyes flicked up to yours, blue flipped across the scale of hues to match the color you'd caught a glimpse of at the bar – the color of your blood, and those flawless new nails. “Whadda ya think I am, sweetheart?”

As his lips peeled back with a grin, you could see the lengthy, pin-sharp fangs that descended from the roof of his mouth, glistening with his famine. Your mouth fell open, pupils dilating as realization worked through your brain. Oh shit. Oh, shit..? You didn't speak, but didn't know what to say anyway.

He chuckled at your reaction. “Jus’ relax, mama's.” Finally. His tongue darted out, dragging a long lick over the front of your wound, causing you to wince and jerk a little. It didn't particularly hurt, but was so odd at the start. Scud held back a moan, but couldn't help his remarks: “Mmm, you taste so good… bettah than I ever imagined…”

You swallowed thickly, watching him work saliva over your tender flesh, and lapping away any remnants of the blood that ran down your arm. He stared intensely into your eyes as he drew a long, excessively slow lick up your limb and back to the wound. You felt it begin to radiate, an unfamiliar warmth centralizing over the cut but spreading out into your entire palm.

He brushed his lips against your fingers with a featherlite kiss, and reluctantly pulled away, letting you watch branches of skin connect together from both sides, color quickly shifting back to your normal tone, and your hand completely unscathed. You flexed your tendons, feeling it for yourself. It was completely healed, a two-week time lapsing into under a minute.

“Why'd ya show ‘er.” Daryl's voice was stern, silently standing behind the couch and startling you as you whipped around. You should've figured – it wouldn't take that long to find simple first aid in your bathroom.

“Known ‘er for long enough, D. Why let'er suffer with some gash if we can just heal it for her?” Scud replied and shrugged innocently. But his wording was key; ‘we’.

“You're both vampires,” You nodded dryly as Daryl grumbled something under his breath and came around the couch to sit on the other side of you. Now the ‘moonshine’ was really ironic. “Okay… I assume if you were gonna drain me ya woulda done it by now.”

“Don't tempt me, baby,” Scud smirked, and Daryl shot him a harsh glare. “What? Sure she appreciates the healin’ at least!”

“Yeah, I do… but it's weirdly intimate, no? Just, wetly runnin’ yer tongue all over someone, gathering saliva on their skin, tastin’ the irony remnants of their blood-”

“Quit talkin’ like that,” Daryl hissed, your sight passing back to him, watching his adam's-apple bob and his jaw tense. His eyes reddened as well, and it dawned on you how teasing your choice of dialogue must've been for them.

“Or keep goin’. Like hearin’ your gorgeous voice say such pretty words,” Scud wet his lips, volume just above a whisper. You felt trapped between two sides of a spectrum, both equally covet… and you were way more into it than you would ever want to admit. Your jaw laxed with a weary breath, mind wandering further ahead than you liked it to. “But you're right, can be real intimate.” His voice dropped lower as he neared you, keeping sights intertwined.

“You're torturing me momma's… pleas’... would give anythin’ to feel ya,” He almost whimpered, puppy dog eyes peering up at you. “He would too, he's jus’ a lil’ more shy.”

It'd be the fattest lie of your life to say you didn't find him attractive, both of them. Closing the door behind you some nights after they'd walked you home, tempted to just bring them inside. How many times you muttered dirty words as your legs tangled in your bedsheets and you touched yourself, imagining how they'd sound in Scud's whiny hitches, or Daryl's gravelly grunts…

You reached up, taking Scud's chin in the light hold of your acrylics and bringing his mouth to yours. He directly melted, turning to puddy from that alone and cravingly dabbing your lips with his tongue. When you pulled back, he tried to follow, pining for more. But you wanted to be fair, and switched to the other man.

Daryl looked like he didn't know what to do, that effort of displaying confidence broken the second the gate he'd been waiting outside of for so long actually opened. But a quick ‘C'mere’, and the curling of your pointer finger brought him to you expeditiously, rough lips chafing over your moisted ones. He shoved away his groan, not quite ready for that yet.

“This ain't gonna stop at kissin’, right?” You checked on an exhale, both their eyes boring into you from either plane, the patterns of their breathing reworking themselves. Dropping it here would be teasing you now.

“S’ain't gon’ stop less ya want it to, moonshine,” He rasped, irises captivating and luring you back to him, clawed hand coming to his cheek – that made the groan slip. He inhaled sharply, ardently guiding his tongue into your mouth, which definitely made Scud jealous.

The engineer brought his hands to your waist, toying with the seams of your shirt as Daryl harshly tugged you closer to him, gaining momentum, growing hungrier. He explored the entire cavity of your mouth, feeling the heat of your gums, the smoothness of your teeth in comparison to his canines, and drew a moan from your throat, hints of a smile crinkling.

“Yer not good at hidin’ whatcha want, honeysuckle,” The southerner purred, trailing down to your jawline as Scud's lips pressed to the nape of your neck. You weren’t sure if he could tell by your body language, or was able to read your mind or something; all the near whorish thoughts running through your psyche.

“Then you should know how long I've thought about this.”

Daryl immediately hooked his strong arms under your thighs, shoving Scud back to stand up off the couch, your legs instinctively latching around his torso as he started to leave a hickey on your neck and find his way to your bedroom.

Scud awkwardly stood behind for a second, shyly glancing to the floor, feeling literally and figuratively pushed aside by the other's dominance. “C'mon Scuddy,” You mouthed, and he looked like he came in pants right there – hurdling to track after you.

Daryl roughly threw you onto the edge of your bed, simultaneously ripping your shirt up over your head. He reached down for the button of your jeans, quickly popping it out and tearing them off, leaving you in just your lacey, red bra and panties.

“Jeez, you ‘nd fuckin’ red, woman.” He bordered on a growl, sliding off his jacket and tossing it to the floor. You sat upright on the rim the mattress, aiding Scud in dropping his many layers, but he teetered like he just wanted to fuck himself senseless with all it still on.

Both them now shirtless, you raked your nails down their chest, taking extra notice to follow the lightning-like scars carved into Scud's abdomen to your left. You let out a breathy curse at their defined v-lines and mouthwateringly sexy happy trails, discarding Daryl's belt, and gently cupping his pulsing erection through his jeans – the same through Scud's cargos.

One twitched, then the other, and you chuckled. “You two really want me that bad, huh?” You questioned, beaming up through your lashes with a flirty smirk: but that mischievous temping simmered seeing the pure lust on their features. They looked like they were gonna eat you alive, and honestly… you wouldn't mind it.

You undid their pants to drop them down, and with some sort of unspoken permission translating between the three of you, they pounced forward, resistance snapping like twigs. Scud hauled your body up the bed and instantaneously found your lips, already gasping into your mouth. His hands each found one of your breasts, fondling and pawing impatiently through your bra.

Daryl grabbed your hips, tugging you back down a little and drawing a wet lick from the hem of your panties up your navel, holding you to him as your spine arched. He kissed and sucked at the delicate skin on your pelvis and inner thighs, leaving behind litters of those gentle bruises on the surface, spotting across the curves of your body. His fangs grazed you as he worked, a persistent reminder of what a feral vampire could just take from you – but he was a humble man, and prefered to give.

You directed Scud to strip your bra, given he'd basically lost all ability to function the second your clothes were off, and even worse once he was on you. Now with your chest fully out, he was gone. He greedily sucked one nipple into his mouth, kneading the other like a cat, while Daryl curled a finger around the hem of your panties, deliberately running from side to side before he suddenly ripped them away – literally ripped. “Promise ‘ll buy ya new ones, babydoll.”

Whatever deeply guttural noise that erupted from you when Daryl's tongue made contact with your cunt was everything but holy. Your hips bucked up into his face so rapidly it almost caught him off guard, his palms splayed out on your thighs and his mouth latched onto your clit. He sucked in rapid pumps, before trawling down then back up and spreading your folds. He lapped up every bit of your pooled wetness, taking a deep inhale and the hidden claws in his fingertips nearing shooting out as his toes curled.

“Fuck! Yer pussy smell's'so fuckin’ good.” His words came out as near snarls, reverberating against your core. Should the view of him not have been obscured by Scud, you're sure you would've came at the sight of him so deeply intoxicated by just the scent of you. “‘Nd tastes so goddamn lovely.”

“‘Ts not fair, man, ah wanna taste ‘er-”

“Nah. Ya got ‘er hand, pussy's mine.” Now he was snarling, possessive crimson eyes stabbing into the other man as he'd turned to look back at him, burying himself deeper into your cunt and earning another wild moan. Scud frowned a little, but you brought your hands to his hips and readjusted him to be sitting on your chest, legs on either side of your body.

“Don't worry, baby.” And you rolled down his boxers so his dick was free: fully hard, tip swollen up and flushed with color, absolutely weeping for you, and it bobbed with a twitch. You wrapped your hand around the base, giving a few pressurized strokes as he bowed forward over your head and straight up whimpered in your ear, aching and pulsing and starved of touch and attention.

“Oh-.. God, momma's… t’so good…” He wove his fingers through your hair to tug lightly at the roots and anchor himself. But the second you put your tongue on him, he jerked forward and shoved into your mouth, cumming abruptly. He couldn't help it, you were; “Jus’ so warm…”

Still you swallowed it down, swiveling the tip of your tongue along the underside of his head, prolonging his high. You weren't surprised; with how frenzied he was, acting like he'd been edged for far too long – which you supposed he had, based on how he talked earlier – you pegged him for the kind to cum fast. He probably wanted you to actually peg him too.

Daryl tipped a domino by chuckling at the early orgasm, the sound waves making you moan around Scud's cock, which in return made him slide a bit deeper again. Daryl started to hum, and removed one hand from your thigh to slip two girthy fingers into you, curling them up and pressing into that sensitive spot in your walls. He focused his mouth on your clit, drawing it in with suction while he rapidly wagged his tongue, soon pumping his fingers in and out of you, and your moans picked up.

The shallow edge of Scud's claws inched further out and held your skull, careful to not scrape into your skin, but exigent nonetheless. His breathing descended into ragged heaving against the side of your head as you worked his cock like you knew every little thing that got him going.

“Getch'yer dick outta her mouth so Ah can hear ‘er cum,” Daryl barked, breaking contact from you for just a moment. Scud groaned, wanting so badly for you to deepthroat him, but he shifted over to the side, knowing Daryl would forcibly do it anyway. Now he moved impossibly faster, fingers stretching you open and filling the bedroom with wet noises from how he had you dripping.

Getting to hear you clearly now sent him into overdrive, grunting against your clit while Scud just laboriously returned to toying with your boobs. “C'mon girl, jus’ cum. Cum fer me. Wanna see yer gorgeous face.”

“Jesus, Daryl-” Your sentence split, and you cried out, trembling legs coming together and forcing him flush against you. You rode his face, a hand flying down to tug at his shaggy locks and assisting you in rolling your hips. He clutched you bruisingly hard, nearing ripping into you.

When your limbs relaxed again, he lavished long licks over your cunt, swirling the tangy, sticky nectar of your release over his entire mouth. “Mos’ perfect fuckin’ thing.”

“Pleas’ mommas, can I fuck ya?” Scud pleaded, cupping your face to catch his distress. Sharing was hard when one party was so much more controlling. Poor thing needed you.

But seeing Daryl yank down and discard his boxers, hard cock visibly throbbing and tip shaded red, he needed you too. And you could tell a blowjob just wouldn't settle it for either of them. “Fuck, just-.. both of you fuck me.”

“Can ya handle two, sweetheart?” Daryl exhorted, swiping a strayed bit of hair from your forehead and deftly tucking it back, slightly softened eyes checking for sincerity in your expression. With your nod, they acclimated to desire once again.

He flipped onto his back, and manhandled your body overtop of him, your back flattened on his chest, and Scud hurriedly positioning above. Daryl kept your legs spread apart with his, reaching around and palming at your breast while going down to slick himself between your soaked folds, slapping himself against you a couple times. “Ya tell us if s'too much, alrigh’?”

“Yea, yeah- please, just fuck me already,” You wailed as he angled you down and slipped deep into you, Scud giving you a second to adjust before coating spit over his shaft, and gently guiding into you as well.

Your back arched as Daryl held you firm, whining in delectable pain as they strained you further open than you ever had been, your acrylics digging into his waist beneath you. Scud layered himself onto you, sucking another hickey into your chest then rocking his hips a couple of times.

When you handled it well, Daryl took it as a cue to join him, plodding more in his thrusts to still give you the opportunity to bail if this wasn't to your liking. Your eyelids fluttered closed, head lulling back to rest on Daryl's shoulder as your heavy breaths fell in line with the pace. When Scud pushed in, Daryl would pull out, and vice versa: always keeping you full while maintaining the motion that granted so much ecstasy to you three. Every one of their filthy noises sounded incomprehensibly better than you'd ever pictured.

Scud mewled against you, head buried into your breasts and giving quick pecks or licks any time he wasn't being uncontrollably vocal. Daryl did the same, groaning into your shoulder and hair.

“Takin’ us so good, arentcha darlin’? So wet, pussy so tight,” Daryl hushed into your ear, hooking up faster and faster following each of his thrusts like the speed was on a multiplier.

You twisted fingers in the back of Scud's head, triggering a loud whine when you tugged on the roots of this hair and that metal choker he always wore. He started to waver, weakly humping you like his brain was fried and just focusing on staying as deep inside you as he could. “Mmm… mommy, I… ‘m so hungry. Please…” The hinges of his jaw started extending on their own, humid exhales dampening an area by your neck. Tasting hints of your blood earlier spawned a black hole that decimated the sinkhole he'd previously had caving in over time. In the near year he'd known you, that urge to just feed from your tender flesh was all he ever thought about. And now, warm walls of your cunt wrapped around him, urging him to another orgasm… He couldn't wait much longer, he was starving.

Daryl planted his feet to make up for Scud's faltering rhythm, the strengthful build of his hips and thighs making it easy to lift you. He was trying so hard to focus on just fucking you, but as the other vampire's imploring got the best of him, he started to follow suit. “Ya know yer'a damn tease, righ’ moonshine? Lookin’ so sexy all tha time, tha seductive scent ah yers… Fuck, I kno’ ya taste like heaven…” He craned his neck up, applying pressure to your carotid artery with his tongue, feeling everything he wanted pump through you at a rapid rate.

You took in a shaky breath, vivacity emanating from the both of them and encircling you. Their dicks throbbed inside of you, the drifter pistoning while the engineer hunched, but that just wasn't enough, and it made the craving so much more pressing. Their pairs of fangs rested on the edges of your skin, tracing over it, each on one side.

“Shit… just do it-.. Jus’ fuckin’ do,” You panted, and it happened so fast you barely even realized it. Scud's bite was eager, being more frantic and on your left: Daryl's more longing, savoring the feeling of piercing into your silky flesh on the right. They drew long siphons into their throats, sultry crimson flooding their systems as their eyes blazed a mutual color.

A strangled moan ripped from your being, your consciousness floating in a haze. Daryl fucked you faster, empowered by your smooth blood, grunting savagely as his razor-edged talons dug into your breasts, Scud's on your waist: but they were so careful to not rip you up.

“Mmmnngh… oh, gods momma, m’gonna cum…” Scud lost any last sense of his composure, curving his spine and slicking out of you to cum over your pelvis. He whimpered like an injured dog, anchoring himself with the teeth lodged in you, grinding against you a few times to ride out the bliss as he messied your body with lengthy ropes of white. Waves of body-wracking pleasure made him writhe around on your chest, lost in some other realm.

“Fuck… cum fer me again, dollface. Know yer good fer me,” Daryl mumbled against you, driving into your cunt with every newfound bit of liveliness he garnered from feeding on you. Your brain stopped working at this point – those red acrylic nails scratching at Daryl's thigh with your left, and Scud's back with your right.

You felt lightheaded, loss of ichor incapacitating you even as they'd ceased thirsting, just keeping fangs planted in your muscles. The crest of euphoria floated your soul to nirvana, Daryl's tip brushing past one specific golden point in your walls and shoving you off the cliff of your climax, tightening his hold on you as you bowed and bucked, vision stripped from your senses.

Your pussy spasmed and massaged around the southerner's cock, and with a final few abusing thrusts, he withdrew and spilled his own load over your folds, resistant moans rumbling from his vocal cords. All three of your chests heaved intensely, fighting to steal any oxygen from the lust-filled atmosphere of your bedroom.

Daryl's hands drifted to your midsection to push up and roll Scud off of you to the left, knowing he was too much of a fucked out mess to do it himself. He gently laid you between the two of them, smoothing a caring hand over your chest and pressing a kiss to your upper arm. “Ya feelin’ okay, moonshine? Didn't take too much, righ’?”

“Yea, ‘m good.., jus’ need a minute,” You wheezed, eyes shut and soma trying to recuperate. Daryl peeled himself from the bed, going to wet a rag, and fetch some water and food. Returning, he compassionately cleaned away the cum smeared across your curves, supporting you as he helped you drink and all – then gathered extra layers of healing saliva over your puncture wounds just to make sure they'd seal over.

He soothed you by tracing patterns with his calloused palm, the three of you resting for a long while and wrapping thoughts around what just happened.

Scud snaked his arm around yours and cuddled right up against your side, keeping lips pressed against you with his whiny hums. “Wanna feel more'ah ya mommas…” To only say he was needy was an understatement, he was full on reliant – vampiric endurance adapting the role of an exponent for such.

“Let ‘er rest.”

You brought your nails to Scud's scalp, gently scratching his head and he practically began to purr. Even if Daryl shoved him off, you appreciated how benevolent he was to you, and could tell he felt less-than right now, lacking your focus. “That spit of yours work on swellin’ too?”

He nodded with a mumbly ‘Mhm…’

“Then how bout'cha lick my pussy till it feels better, ‘nd we'll keep goin’ till botha ya are ran dry, hm?” You suggested, planting a kiss on the top of his head and sensing the energy shift.

And they were both on you all over again in an instant.

©corvidcrossbow 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified or adapted to other platforms. My work may be translated only if asked and with proof of given consent.

[blue-aconite]

book club activities || r.b.f

Summary: Bob's girlfriend has a book club.

Warnings: Suggestive texting, absolute nonsense, somehow Bradley and Jake stole the show (idiots)

Word Count: 940

Pairings: Bob Floyd x f!reader

Authors Note: Happy birthday @bobfloydsbabe! This is the dumbest thing I've ever written and it also sucks but it has your favourite lil dude in it and I love you! I hope you've had a great birthday! Enjoy this insanely weird drabble.

“You should really read it.” 

Bob sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. “Sweetheart, I’m not reading Twilight with you.” 

His girlfriend pouted from the corner of the couch, aiming a kick against his shin. “But you liked the films.” 

“No, I said I thought they weren’t bad. I never said I liked them.” They had watched all of the films a weeknight ago, which Bob initially had only done to please her. 

“And you said the films were better than the books.” Bob argued, reaching over to right the blanket covering her body as it had half fallen to the floor. 

“Yes but I still think you should read the books.” She said, crossing her arms across her chest. 

“I will go out and get you your favourite food, two new books, a new notepad and pencils if you don’t make me read the books.” Bob placated, hoping that it would satisfy her. 

She looked thoughtful, eyebrows drawing together as she contemplated his offer. 

“Which books?

Bob smiled, knowing he was winning. “Whichever you want, darling.” 

She stared at him for another moment before tossing the blanket aside to cuddle into his side. 

“I want Pho, I don’t have the last two books of ASOIAF and please get me a A4 notebook, not A5,” she paused momentarily, hand splayed against his abdomen, “and cuddles please.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, slouching slightly so she could get more comfortable. “Yes ma’am.” 

The rain was smattering against windows, the sun setting just behind the tree line they could see from their backyard. 

Ever since  Bob had found out he was going to be stationed permanently in San Diego, they decided to get a house and set down some roots. 

“I love you, even if you don’t want to read Twilight with me.” She whispered against his T-shirt, making Bob laugh. She soon joined in and they giggled together for a few moments before once again settling into the couch. 

“I love you too. Do you want Pho from the place close to base or the other one?” 

She hummed, eyes falling shut as she snuggled into his side. “Base please.” 

Bob waited a few minutes before her breathing evened out and then gently untangled himself from her embrace. 

After making sure she was properly tucked in for her nap, he grabbed his keys and wallet. He had a promise to make good on. 

Next Day

“Dude, you should read them though, they’re actually pretty good. Not the writing but the story. Love triangle, vampires, werewolves and hybrid babies.” Rooster said through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. 

Phoenix snorted, rolling her eyes. “Not the most intriguing introduction, Roos.” 

Bob watched as they jabbed back and forth, pushing his food around on his plate. 

Hangman and Coyote sat down with their trays, interrupting the squabble happening across from Bob. 

“What’s up?” Javy asked. 

“Are you team Edward or team Jacob?” Rooster asked, completely serious. 

Coyote’s eyebrows shot up, mouth pressed into a tight line. “Dude, are you talking about Twilight?” 

“Yes! Bob watched the films with his girl and he doesn't want to read the books but I think they’re pretty good and Nat says they’re crap and now we gotta decide what team.” Bradley rambled, earning another smack to the side. 

Javy stared them both down, an unimpressed look on his face. “I don’t like fantasy.” 

“WHAT? Dishonour on you, dishonour on your family, dishonour on your cow!” Rooster dramatically gasped, clutching at his chest. 

The entire table rolled their eyes at their teammates' dramatics, all of them now used to Bradley’s antics. 

“Okay fine. I didn’t care enough to choose a team, the films were good and I’ve already read the books but don’t tell my girlfriend that. She’ll never let me live it down.” Bob spoke up, making Bradley smile. 

“I knew it. Everyone has read those books, except Javy here, apparently.” Rooster announced proudly, reaching across the table to fist bump Bob. 

“I personally am Team Bella. Neither Edward or Jacob were good for her. Jacob was an immature kid, not his fault, it’s just his character and Edward had issues. Real issues. The best thing for her would have been to get the hell out of Forks and work on becoming her own person.” 

The entire table fell silent, staring at Jake who didn’t even look up from his plate. No one spoke for a few beats before Bradley began clapping like a seal, shit eating grin in place. 

Bob shook his head as he reached for his phone, texting his girlfriend. She would enjoy the currently bizarre conversation that was taking place and maybe he could get out of book club if he mentioned that apparently both Rooster and Hangman were fans of the series. 

Hangman and Rooster like Twilight. 

Make them bring food and the books next time you invite them over. 

PS, you’re still gonna read the books with me, pls. 

Damn, he really thought he’d gotten away with reading the darn books again. 

If you and I are going to have a book club, no one else is welcome. 

How come??

Club activities are strictly taking place in the bedroom. 

He sent off the last text quickly, before pocketing his phone and turning back to the conversation. 

He didn’t receive an answer until he was scheduled to fly. There was a short message and a picture attached. 

Fine. 

And beneath the text was a picture partially obscuring the view of what seemed to be his girlfriend’s favourite lingerie set and all four books of the series. 

Bob couldn’t wait to go home.

Taglist: @wildbornsiren​ @ryebecca @imjess-themess @reels-and-wheels @antiquitea @writercole @hederasgarden @yanna-banana @bobfloydsbabe @hollandorks @anniesocsandgeneralstore @ereardon @luminousnotmatter @roosterscock @thedroneranger @fandomxpreferences @top-hhun @princessmisery666 @bradshawsbitch​ @a-reader-and-a-writer @green-socks @angstybluejay @seresinhangmanjake @ayorooster​@notroosterbradshaw​ @indynerdgirl @gigisimsonmars @girl-in-the-chairs-void@bradshawbabes @unhinged-btch @horseshoegirl @sadpetalsstuff @bradshawbaby @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @ummjustfics​ @septemberrie​ @somenamewithepineapple​ @seresinsweetie​​ @crescentwolf​ @seresinhangmanjake​ @waklman​ @roosterforme​ @rosiahills22​ @dempy​ @i0veless​ @ilovewriting06​ @kmc1989​ @demxters @amortentiadrops @teacupsandtopgun @hangmanscoming

[desertfangs]

Strange Happenings

I was listening to a podcast about Cattle Mutilations and then this happened. It's Armand/Daniel, circa 1975, a little more than 1000 words. I will put this in my short fic document on AO3 later.

Daniel’s blood went cold when he read the newspaper headline. He scoured the article and then checked that yes, this was the Denver paper, not some tabloid. He enjoyed a good tabloid story—and since learning that vampires were real, he suspected that some of the stranger things reported on in those rags were not entirely fiction—but this was a mainstream paper: cattle mutilations. 

He looked at the grisly photo of a cow with its guts hanging out, parts of it surgically removed. Bile rose in his throat and he swallowed a swig of beer to wash it back down. Ash fell from his cigarette onto the paper and he wiped it away, ashing the cigarette in the ashtray on the small round bar table. 

He poured over the article several times. The article said some people were suggesting it was prank, while others had more out-there theories. The article did not go into the specifics of what these strange theories entailed but something unnatural was definitely implied. Daniel wondered what that meant. According to the article, incidents like these had been happening for months in different areas around the state. 

He was so absorbed in his reading that the movement of the chair across the table startled him and he jumped. 

Armand laughed. 

Bastard. 

The vampire had sat, looking pleased with himself at how easily he’d managed to sneak up on Daniel. As if he didn’t do it all the damn time. Daniel glanced out the window. He hadn’t even realized it had gotten dark. 

“What are you reading?” Armand asked, grabbing the newspaper and sliding it across the table before Daniel could answer. 

Armand scanned the page and frowned. Daniel studied him, waiting for his reaction. It didn’t take long. Armand didn’t have to read like a mortal. He could just look at something and absorb the information. He had once insisted to Daniel that he was reading, just faster than a mortal brain could ever manage.

“Well? Is that your kind’s doing?” 

Armand laughed again. “You think vampires would bother with such elaborate and silly games?” 

You seem to enjoy games, Daniel thought before catching himself, remembering how easily the vampire could hear his thoughts.

“I have no interest in the blood of cows,” Armand said. “Nor do I desire to hack pieces off large animals.” 

“No? Seems like it would be a fun weeknight activity for someone like you,” Daniel said, tone droll. He stubbed the butt of his cigarette against the ashtray and pulled the paper back in front of him. “Do you know what’s doing it?”

“Bored children, probably,” Armand said.

Daniel laughed. He couldn’t help it. What an absurd response! “You think kids are going out and hacking up farm animals?” 

Armand shrugged. “The article suggests as much.” 

It did say local teens were suspected in at least one of the incidents, a copycat prank. He tapped his fingers against the table. “So you don’t know of a creature that might do something like this?” 

Armand’s expression shifted, darkening almost imperceptibly. He titled his head and examined Daniel for a long moment while Daniel tried not to squirm uncomfortably  under the scrutiny. Then he said, “I’ve never heard of such a creature and I cannot fathom what form they would take.” 

Daniel sighed. He folded the newspaper up. “What about Bigfoot?”

Armand blinked. “Are you asking if I believe a giant ape man is carving up cattle?” 

Daniel shrugged. 

“I’ve told you before, Daniel, I have no knowledge of such things existing. I am immortal, I am not all knowing.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Daniel waved his hand and lit another cigarette. “Do you kill animals often?” 

Armand actually looked surprised for a moment, which made Daniel smile. It took a lot to throw Armand off kilter and Daniel took great pleasure in doing so. 

Armand reached across the table and snatched the cigarette from Daniel’s mouth at a speed that made it look as if the cigarette had flown into his hand of its own accord. Daniel’s heart raced but he tried not to show the jolt of primal fear that ran through him.

Armand held the cigarette between his fingers the way Daniel did, mimicking his motions. “Humans are animals,” he said idly. 

“You know that’s not what I mean. Louis said he survived on rats—"

Armand’s head shot up and there was danger in his amber eyes. Daniel swallowed uneasily and reached for his glass. “Do not think speaking to one of us at length makes you an expert. And even he told you that was not normal behavior.” 

Daniel took a swig of his beer. “I’m not an expert, that’s why I’m asking you.” 

Armand put the cigarette to his lips. He inhaled, and then pulled it from his mouth, staring at it like it had offended him somehow. “We survive on animal blood when there is no other alternative. It’s your blood—the blood of mortals—that truly sustains us. Nothing else is sufficient.” 

Armand stared meaningfully at Daniel’s neck as he spoke and Daniel’s hand went automatically to the spot where Louis had bitten him. It had been two years but he could still feel the ghost of the wound and he often wondered how it would feel to have Armand’s fangs in his neck.

Armand’s hand jutted forward, offering Daniel back his cigarette. He took it, fingers brushing Armand’s cool fingers. He wanted to grab his hand suddenly and hold it in his, to see if it would warm up in his grasp. But Armand had already stood, pushing his chair back. 

“Where are you going?” Daniel demanded, without really thinking. He should be relieved the vampire was going. He was ice cold and probably hadn’t fed, and here Daniel was, stupidly asking him all about blood. That was a recipe for getting himself on the menu. 

And yet he didn’t hate the idea. Vampires could drink without killing. 

Armand leaned over the table and brushed a stray hair out of Daniel’s face. “Indeed we can, but it’s not satisfying. When I drink, I ride the heart until it stops and all the life has bled out.” 

Daniel’s pulse raced, ice traveling down his spine. And then Armand was gone, almost as if he’d vanished into smoke. Daniel opened the newspaper again and tried to find something to distract himself, waving to the bartender for another beer. He sure as hell wasn’t going to go back to his hotel room alone until the sun was high in the sky and it was safe to do so. 

[poeticexhalations]

I Was the Favorite Child

I was the favorite child, and it wasn’t as nice as you would think.

I grew up hearing the following phrases: 

“We don’t have to worry about you.”

“You’ve got this.”

“Can you do that on your own?”

It wasn’t independence. It was isolation. I was the favorite child who could do no wrong, which means that my parents never looked in my direction. I’d scale the large tree in my mother’s front yard, scrape my palms on the rough bark as I climbed to the very top to read my books, and she wouldn’t notice I was gone. The peace was nice, but lonely.

I learned very early on in my life that if I were going to survive and be happy, I’d have to do it independently. Because my childhood was a test of independence.

My brother was diagnosed with autism at a very young age (three?). He didn’t talk for years. This terrified my father; he believed his son to be “inferior”, and didn’t take the news well. Allegedly, my father tried to kill himself twice because of my brother’s diagnosis.

What a wimp.

My mother took the news hard too, but she was my brother’s mother. She would love him unconditionally regardless of his diagnosis. My brother and my mother always had a special bond that couldn’t be replicated. Even though I desperately craved that closeness to my mother, it was my brother she truly fawned over. He was her universe; he was her mirror. They had the same smile, the same hair, the same nimble hands that loved to play guitar, the same artistic skills. He learned these things at the cost of me learning them, so I taught myself many skills during my childhood.

I was a tree-climbing expert.

I consumed books like they were oxygen.

I grew an unhealthy obsession with vampires and horses.

I learned how to make my own noodles.

I learned what corners of the backyard my father never sought me out, and the only reason he ever would seek me out is to have me do something for my brother.

My brother was my mother’s universe, and he became mine, too.

He was the black hole in which my life moved around.

We shared a birthday, and my brother got to pick out the cake. The location. The theme.

We shared a room, and my brother got to pick out the wall color. The shows we watched on our brick of a television. The carpet.

We shared a school, and my father famously told me that they’d double-up on our conferences because we were twins. Each child was allotted twenty minutes. My teacher and my parents would spend five minutes discussing me, and thirty-five minutes discussing my brother. 

We shared family vacations, and my brother got to pick the rides at the theme parks, the food we ate, the pools we swam at. I had to give up my water-raft for his scrambler. I gave up horse-back riding for his Lego experience. I had to give up my pepperoni pizza so he could have cheese (and no, my brother would not pick it off).

As I got older, I was told that only one of us could go to therapy; my parents couldn’t afford therapy for us both. It had to be my brother. And not only did it have to be my brother, but I had to take him. And be patient. And kind. I wasn’t allowed to be angry that my weeknights were filled with waiting rooms while I watched him play on the slides with his therapists. I snuck onto a slide once around the back, and hid in the ball pit, just so I could play, too. 

I got a good spanking that night and learned one lesson: My brother played. I watched.

Even when I ran the scissors across my wrists, I couldn’t go to therapy. I’d be told to “stop being dramatic” and would be demanded to use the car to drive my brother downtown for his next appointment.

My brother was both my poison and my antidote.

Because even though he dictated my childhood, he was–is–my closest friend. I resented my parents, never him. It was never his fault that I had the childhood that I did. 

Autism, and the challenges that accompany autism, are never the fault of the individual.

My brother is a beautiful person; he is light and music and harmony in one person. He is joy and love and purpose. If the universe had a soul, I have a feeling it would be my brother. My brother could sit and watch the rocks for hours, and find beauty in the way that water crests over them and changes their hues from black to brown to gray. my brother could listen to a song one time and memorize it, then play it perfectly on the guitar. My brother picks up injured animals on the side of the road and they never cower from him. We learned an entire fiction language on our own just to communicate when the moon was high in the sky without our parents learning, or pass notes in class without being caught. my brother would sneak me his Pokemon cards that he knew were my favorites under the table, my brother would eat my broccoli at dinner so I didn’t have to when our father was turned away, my brother would hug me far longer than either of my parents ever did.

The things my brother taught me… I don’t know where to begin.

Having a twin brother with autism taught me to put myself in other peoples’ shoes.

He taught me that rage isn’t usually the answer.

He taught me that fantasy is superior to reality, especially if it has elves in it.

He taught me that caring for someone else in many ways is also caring for yourself.

He taught me to make friends with people for who they were, not what they looked or sounded like.

He taught me that sometimes, it's worth pausing and looking at a rock. Or a tree. Or a leaf. Or the moon. Life moves fast, and my brother slows down to appreciate it.

He taught me to be a better person, because I was forced to always put someone before myself. I was forced to be patient. I was forced to be educated. I was forced to understand different perspectives.

I was my parent’s favorite child, and it was isolation. But I was my brother’s universe, and he was mine.

[godsfavoritehound]

youre in the gym locker room, giggling it up, when your homie w his nutz out smacks you across the face with a sweat rag, knocking you to the floor. when u come to youre greeted by the aroma of axe body spray and pabst blue ribbon, there’s a guy next to you in a shirt three sizes to big for him that he spray painted “PUNKS DEAD EMO KIDS NEXT” onto the back of. he’s about to launch his full body at you and knock you into a man that looks just like your childhood friend’s older brother, but with a thinning mustache. you’ll think about when he showed you how to play mw2, gave you your first weed, and then when your friend stopped asking him to hang out because he came out as gay to them privately. before you can ask him his name a girl 2 feet shorter than you will spill half of her beer on you and then awkwardly smile back as she pushes through a man that looks like a vampire with slicked back hair and a twinkle in his eyes, you won’t ever know, but he conquered alcoholism just a year prior. the next 2 men she will barrel through enter a loving embrace as they fall hard to the ground together. when they return to their feet they’ll smile at each other in a way you’ll soon understand comes from beautiful camaraderie, brothers in arms against the blast of the sound system and the kicks of teenagers. there’s a different guy standing next to you now, he keeps bumping into you harder and harder. it’s unclear if it’s intentional, but he doesn’t stop. in a second all of your hatred towards mankind is sent to the ridges of your knuckles and you too, are propelled into the fray. your careless fists will smack into arm after arm, jaw after jaw, heart after heart. you’ll crash into the ground too, and you’ll see a spread of teeth smiling down at you. this is hardcore on a weeknight, and life is beautiful

[slothquisitor]

Invisible String: Chapter Eleven

A Baldur’s Gate III Modern AU.

Chapter Summary: It's the date we've all been waiting for. Featuring random library facts and discussions of anthropodermic bibliopegy. Obviously.

Read from the beginning.

Read on AO3.

____________________________________________________________

“I appreciate you both coming out for this emergency,” Astarion says as Karlach and Shadowheart join him at the table of their favorite bars. It’s not a boisterous bar, it is relaxed and quiet. Filled with people gathered around small tables chatting in the dim lighting. Well, calling it one of Karlach’s favorites might be an exaggeration. He’s pretty sure she called it pretentious once, but he and Shadowheart adore it. 

“You are buying the drinks, right?” Karlach asks as she sits. “You did say that in your text.”

“I still don’t understand why we couldn’t just come to your house. I had to put real pants back on!”

Karlach looks over at Shadowheart with concern. “It’s like eight o’clock…”

“On a Wednesday!” Shadowheart insists.

“You need to get out more,” Karlach shakes her head and waves down a waiter while they all place their orders. “Besides, Astarion made us meet here because he’s got a new roommate.”

“Oh no, did something happen with the librarian?” 

“Archivist,” Astarion corrects. “And no…she’s still my roommate.”

Karlach starts laughing. “Yeah, you’re never going to believe this. Astarion is letting another vampire crash at his place.”

“Another vampire? Oh…that means. Well…that’s actually nice of you.”

“Your surprise is hurting my feelings.” Astarion glares at Karlach. “What is Petras telling you?”

Karlach shrugs. “Things. Does the big emergency involve him?”

“No, but I didn’t need his prying ears tonight. It’s…well…” He’s interrupted by the arrival of their drink order and waits for the waiter to walk away before he continues. “I’m taking someone on a date…and I’m not exactly well-versed in…courtship.”

“Oh my gods, you met someone. Are they from the Weave?” Shadowheart asks excitedly. “But why do you need our help? You meet up with people from there all the time.”

He should probably correct that assumption at some point. He shifts a bit in his seat. “No, this is…different. It’s a real date…and it’s…”

Shadowheart grins. “Oh, it’s someone you really like. How novel.”

He glares at her. “I can go ask other friends if you’re going to tease.”

“You have other friends?” Shadowheart asks doubtfully. 

Karlach breaks into their bickering, resting her forearms on the table and looking distinctly unimpressed. “Remember when I said ‘Don’t shit where you eat’?”

Shadowheart frowns. “Oh no, Astarion. It’s not your roommate.”

He suddenly feels very defensive. “And if it is?”

Shadowheart and Karlach exchange a look. “Look, I know that it seems like a great idea. Convenient, even. But it almost never works out.”

“Not only that, but it makes it very hard when breaking up also means fucking moving,” Karlach adds. 

“We are mature adults. It’ll be fine,” Astarion says and immediately amends the statement after being met with their dubious stares. “Liv is a mature adult. It’ll be fine.”

Shadowheart sighs and takes a drink. “You really like her, don’t you?”

Now it is his turn to sigh. “I do. Help me plan a date?”

Even Karlach’s glower is broken by his asking for help. “This is a terrible idea.”

“Me coming up with a terrible idea? Never.”

Shadowheart sighs. “If we help you do this, we want to meet her. And soon.”

Well, that sounds distinctly terrible, but if that’s the price he has to pay for their expertise…that and drinks…it’s probably fine. “Sure. We should just invite her to a book club. She's usually already read our picks anyway.”

Shadowheart beams. “Oh, I love that.”

Karlach grimaces. “But I hate book club. Bring her to the Elfsong instead. You never come in anymore.”

“Sure, but not on a weeknight. Please?” Shadowheart agrees looking at him expectantly. 

“You’re both insufferable…agree on something and I’ll bring her around to whatever. Now, can we get back to the important thing? Helping me?”

In the end, Shadowheart and Karlach tell him less about what to do and spend rather more time encouraging his current course of action. It is comforting to know that his initial instincts about this whole date thing weren’t too far off the mark. And so, the next evening he watches the last rays of sunlight leave the city before rushing out the door and off to Old Town. 

He’s sure that this part of the city is beautiful in the daytime. It would have to be. He can almost see the way the stone spires would look reaching up towards the blue-gray skies over the city, but in the evening it is something different. The buildings are lit up, the spires falling to darkness and shadow. There is a golden glow from the windows, and the filigreed gates to colleges are closed, but promise radiates just inside. He’s walked these streets often, staring up at the old buildings and wondering what it would be like to go inside. 

The library courtyard is mostly empty except for the occasional student leaving through the main doors. He steps inside the warm, dim foyer. It seems empty until he turns to see Liv standing at the security desk talking with the tiefling woman behind it.

Liv is always beautiful, always somehow put together even when she’s standing in their kitchen in her pajamas, but there’s something about how she holds herself in this space. She’s comfortable here, confident even. She wears an oversized blazer and a BGU library lanyard with her ID on it. She looks rather official. 

“Welcome to the library,” she says with a smile. The woman behind the security desk passes her a guest pass and Liv takes it before holding it out to him. 

He takes it and puts it on. “Good to see you.”

The woman at the desk smiles and opens the gate for them both to enter. “The second floor of the Silvershield Library is closed for the evening, but they’ll let you go up as long as you’re there before eight.”

“Thank you, Nina,” Liv says. “You ready?”

Astarion nods. “Lead the way.”

They step around the corner and into a stairwell. “This is the main library building,” Liv explains as they begin climbing. “I thought we’d start here and then make our way over to the Silvershield. The reading rooms here are a bit less grand, but the books here are older.”

He finds himself a little unsure, a little searching for words. But that’s okay because Liv isn’t. She’s in her element here. As they climb the stairs, she lowers her voice and proceeds to tell him a story about a career criminal who before he died of tuberculosis gave his deathbed confession of his crimes and instructed that the book be bound in his own skin. After he died, the book was delivered to one of his victims who kept it in the family until it was eventually donated to the archives. 

“But why did he have it bound in his own skin?” Astarion asks, equal parts delighted and disgusted. 

“Anthropodermic bibliopegy wasn't exactly a common practice at the time, but not unheard of amongst criminals and even some doctors.”

“Doctors?”

She shrugs. “They had easy access to corpses.”

“That is…delightfully macabre.”

“I thought you might enjoy it.”

“Will I get the chance to see this skin book, is it in this reading room?” he asks. 

“It’s safely tucked away deep in the archives. It’s not out of public viewing, but if you want to see it you can. The story is better than the book itself, it’s a little underwhelming honestly. It’s not like it’s all patched together with a face etched in proclaiming that this is made of human skin,” she says. 

“Are there books like that here?” 

“Oh yes. And magical tomes too. Those tend to be housed elsewhere though. A few too many accidental fires in these old buildings made everyone a bit nervous, so the more unstable tomes are stored especially in our storage facility in Beregost that we share with Candlekeep. Most of the lesser used items in the library are stored there now anyway.”

“Really, so why do you work here instead of there?” 

“Beregost is more of a repository than a true archive. The preservation work of things in use still happens here, but we simply don’t have the space in these old buildings to house everything in the collection.”

“And how big is the collection?”

“Pushing nearly twelve million printed items.”

“No wonder you archivists lose things.”

She laughs. “Kind of makes you wonder what other books might be hiding out here…lost to time.”

“But mostly the skin-bound ones.”

By this point, they’re at the doors to the upper reading room. There are warnings on the door instructing them that no bags, pens, or food are allowed inside. “There are still students working in here, so we’ll have to be quiet.”

“Alright.”

She opens one of the double doors, gesturing him inside. As he walks in, he can’t quite keep from gazing about in awe. He would have never guessed from the unassuming nature of the stairwell that this one was waiting on the other side. Filled with floor-to-ceiling dark wood bookshelves, the room feels darker than it should. The ceiling is made of wood as well, red and blue with golden designs and words in a tongue he doesn’t recognize. And there are books. Shelves and rows of books. An older half-orc man sits at a desk that blocks this main hallway from the rest of the library shelves. He has a book open and his pen moves across the page as he looks between his book and computer screen as they approach.  

“How nice to see you, Liv.” He smiles, then nods to Astarion. “First time?”

“Hi, Oscar. We’re just doing a little tour of the place.”

Oscar nods understandingly and opens the small wooden gate for them. “Enjoy.”

He feels the quiet here like it bears weight, and for a moment he wonders if he should be here at all. But then Liv glances back at him and smiles inclining her head towards an alcove of books. 

It’s a nice, quiet alcove and there are no students here. It’s nice, nicer because he gets to be close to Liv here. He enjoys seeing her like this talking about her work, this library, and books. However, he worries that this feels less romantic than anything else they could be doing. Even so, there’s a buzz of electricity between them as they stand looking at the shelves of books. At the lowest level before the shelf turns into a desk where someone could sit and study, there’s a sign beside the oldest leather-bound books, their yellowed pages peeking out. The sign says, “Do not touch the books. They are alarmed.”

“Who is terrorizing the books and do we need to have a word with them?” he asks in a whisper as he leans closer to Liv. 

“You’ve got to be the millionth person to make that same joke in this library,” she says around quiet laughter as she twists to look at him. 

“Oh, you’ve heard it before?” he asks. 

“No, but it’s pretty corny.”

He scoffs. “As if the romantic comedies you put on during movie night aren’t?”

“I’m just saying it’s not very original.”

“But you still laughed.”

She considers that eyes bright with mirth. “Yeah, I did.”

Good. He’s trying. He’s not sure exactly how this should be going, but this is nice. She’s close enough to touch, his fingers brush hers but nothing more, as if they both aren’t quite sure how to push this thing between them further. 

“Tell me more about the library.”

And she does. 

***

Liv takes Astarion through her favorite sections of the library: the upper reading room, the West building which houses the exhibitions, and through the secret tunnel linking the old library building to the Silvershield. It’s affectionately referred to as The Shield by the student body, mostly for the shape of the building, which is rather squat and wide, but the interior is where this building shines. All spiral staircases and arches amongst the bookshelves. As Nina said, the second floor of the library is closed when they arrive, but the librarian on duty gives her a nod as she unlocks the door and they make their way up the stairs. 

Their conversation has meandered nearly as much as they have through the library shelves. Astarion keeps looking at her with some strange intensity every time they pause anywhere, and she feels like there’s an electric current running between them, like her head is buzzing every time he’s close to her. 

Astarion lets out a low whistle as they enter the second floor. “Well, isn’t this something?”

“This is my favorite place,” she says. She loves her little office in the main building, but when she needs a change of scenery, this is where she comes. It’s even beautiful at night, the old building filled with shadows as the only lights burning brightly are the ones that sit upon the reading tables. 

“Saved the best for last, did you?” he asks. 

They’re alone up here, there’s no need to be quiet, which is nice as they’ve mostly been communicating in snatched whispers and smothered laughter thus far. “I’ve always found libraries calming.”

“Oh?”

She’s not sure if this topic is really first-date material, but she’s also not sure whether it matters. Everything about this has just felt like two friends wandering a library with the possibility of something more hanging out on the horizon…but he hasn’t made any move toward it. She sighs. “Growing up, my home wasn’t a very peaceful place. Lots of expectations…all the time. But our local library wasn’t too far to ride on my bike, so during those long summer days when I was missing school…I would go to the library.”

“Didn’t you have friends?” Astarion asks teasingly. 

“Yes, I met them at the library.”

He laughs. “I’m not surprised that you loved a place so much you made it your career.”

She’s never thought of it that way, but she supposes it’s true. “I guess I did.”

“Everything you tell me about your family makes them sound exceedingly awful, but this might be the worst: that you missed school so went to the library.”

“Summers were hard. Everyone was at home all day every day…including my mother. She was always so quick to correct. And my older siblings wanted little to do with me, so I just…disappeared.”

“You said you haven’t met your half-brother?”

“That’s right.”

“Have you thought about it?”

The truth is that she’s thought about it a lot. She’s even stalked his socials. He lives in a little suburb of Cormyr with his partner and five children. He seems…exceptionally normal. He looks like her brothers. It would be so easy to send him a message. “All the time.”

“Does he want to meet?”

She nods. “According to Brelia, yes.”

“But you don’t?”

She pauses walking and leans against one of the reading tables. “I don’t know what I want. Sometimes I want to meet him, and sometimes, I don’t. It’s…complicated.”

“Why?”

“I can barely navigate the family I have now…and…I don’t know if it was guaranteed to be good…maybe I’d want it.”

He studies her for a moment. “You’re afraid? I didn’t think you were afraid of anything.”

She crosses her arms, can’t help the rueful laugh that escapes her. “I am afraid of so much. But that…that maybe I’d meet him and he wouldn’t love me…I’m most afraid of that…of what it would mean about me.”

“That he has terrible taste in people?” he asks, stepping closer.  

“That it’s me and not my family that’s the problem,” she breathes. She worries that she is difficult to love, that her family are not the unreasonable ones, but that it’s her and it has always been her. And if she were to meet him and he doesn’t love her? If she had to twist and bend and make herself smaller to be loved by him too….well, she thinks that might be what breaks her. At least if she never meets him, she never has to worry about disappointing him and vice versa. 

“You are incapable of being the problem,” Astarion says, the words as soft and firm as they were the night she called him from Neverwinter.

She wants to believe him, or at least enough of the hyperbole he offers to feel confident that the love she does receive is not somehow a fluke. “You sound very sure of that.”

He has drifted closer in the last handful of moments here, and though she still leans against the table, he is like watching the tide coming in. His crimson gaze is soft as it sometimes is, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. “I am.”

Astarion is close enough to touch now, though she’s not sure if she should reach out. They haven’t touched since that night they kissed, have been very particular about not . But they’re here, and it’s a date, and she’s still not quite sure what it is he wants. The silence stretches between them, full of anticipation. 

“What are you thinking about?” she asks. It’s a stupid question, and she feels like she’s suddenly a teenager again, giddy with a first crush. 

“I'm thinking about kissing you again, and wondering how much trouble you’ll get into since you’re on the job…and how much I care.”

“Maybe you should find out,” she says lightly, unable to contain a smile.  

He moves slowly, deliberately, a hand skating along her jaw before cradling her head. And then his lips are on hers. This is so different from that first kiss, so devoid of all the frantic scrambling, as though they both wanted to get as far as they could before one of them came to their senses. Their first kiss was doomed from the start, and they’d both known it. But this is different. 

This kiss is soft, gentle, as if they are both a little afraid of how fragile the other might be. Her hands find his waist, and his tangle in her hair. Her heart feels like it is racing so quickly, there’s a danger it might spill right out of her chest.  

The kiss is over far too soon.

Their eyes lock as he pulls away, and she cannot help but smile. She reaches forward, catching his hand before he can move too far from her. He settles beside her, leaning against the table with his shoulder pressed against hers. 

“Now, I’m perfectly fine staying here all night, but I did get us a dinner reservation,” he says. 

She chuckles at that. “You don’t even eat.”

He shrugs. “Seems like a perfect excuse for you to order two things you can’t decide between from the menu and have as much of either as you like.”

It’s…surprisingly sweet of him. “While I appreciate that, we don’t have to. Really.”

He sighs. “I just…I want this to feel normal.”

He says normal, but she thinks she knows what he really means. Like he’s normal. And how could she deny him that? “We’ll make our own normal. Let’s go get dinner.”

***

The rest of their evening is rather uneventful. They take the riverwalk after dinner, pointing out their favorite buildings in the sparkle of lights that is their city. Their conversation wanders, switching from teasing to serious and back again as they meander through topics and subjects. There are times that Astarions forgets that this is a date, much less their first. It feels like being with Liv always does: comfortable. 

The only reminder that this is different is the insistent pressure of her hand in his. She had taken his hand first, but he is the one who can’t seem to let hers go. Can’t seem to stop reaching for her, for that careful, perfect contact. She doesn’t seem to mind. 

“Petras is going to be insufferable about this when we get back,” he muses as they walk. They’re just a few blocks from home now. 

“To you maybe,” Liv replies. “Do you think we ought to tell him though?”

“Are you advocating for dishonesty?” Astarion asks, surprised and intrigued. 

Liv considers that for a moment and sighs. “Not necessarily. I just…how would you feel if the two people you were living with started dating? He’s getting his new place in a few days and I don’t want it to feel as though we’re trying to get rid of him.”

“But we are. Finally,” Astarion murmurs. 

Liv rolls her eyes. “You say that, but you’ve been taking care of him since he moved in. Whatever are you going to do with your days with him gone?”

“Finally have some peace and quiet. So, what are you saying? We tell him after he moves out?” 

“If he asks, we don’t lie, we simply don’t say anything about it for now?” 

He grins. “You are advocating for dishonesty. The things I learn new things about you every day. By the way, Shadowheart and Karlach are chomping at the bit to meet you.”

“Really?” she asks. 

“Yes, so if we don’t make plans with them soon they’ll take matters into their own hands and show up unannounced or something equally ridiculous.”

“I’m flattered they want to meet.” Liv’s voice is tight. He knows that there’s a hint of nervousness there. 

He squeezes her hand reassuringly. “Karlach loves everyone, so she’ll be easy. Shadowheart is harder to please, but she already thinks you’re great because of your book recommendations.”

“But I haven’t given her any book recommendations.”

“But you’ve given them to me, and I’ve passed them along to her. Credit where it is due, darling,” he says. 

“I appreciate you trying to raise my stock amongst your friends in advance,” she replies. 

“Frankly, it’s hard to find someone whose company is even better than mine, but they’ll inevitably come to that conclusion.”

“Thank you,” she says, words quiet. 

“For what?”

“For always being so confident in me. It’s….it’s not something I’ve had a lot of and it’s…really nice.”

Liv’s wonderfulness is a foregone conclusion to him. Like the sky being blue or that one shouldn’t mix florals and plaids. It’s a fact of the universe. Immutable. But he considers her upbringing, her isolation, and the expectations she’s always had heaped upon her. He’s glad at least that he has something to offer her, something she hasn’t often had. 

“I’m not very practiced at this,” he says, squeezing her hand. “I don’t know what I’m doing, but it’s nice to hear I’m at least doing something right.”

“You’re doing great,” Liv says as they arrive at their building. “But promise me something?”

“What?”

“That you’ll let go of whatever expectations you have for what’s normal or what we should be doing. This is ours. We decide what this is…no one else.”

He stares at her for a moment, at the lifeline she’s handing him. “And you’re alright with that?”

“More than. I care about you . About being with you . Whatever that looks like.”

They’re alone in the elevator, and he can’t stop himself from kissing her again. It’s easier than figuring out what to say than trying to tell her what this means to him. He thinks she knows anyway. 

As they enter the apartment, depositing their coats on the hooks near the door. Petras pauses the baking show he’s watching, jumping to his feet and looking between them both a little bit lost. 

“Where were you two?” 

He and Liv exchange a look, both trying to figure out what to say. “The library and then the riverwalk,” he replies. 

Petras looks hurt. “Were you…hanging out without me?”

Liv’s eyes go wide with understanding and she looks at him like Petras is some kicked puppy dog. He sighs and gives her a nod. 

“No, Petras. We were…on a date.”

The unhappiness in Petras’s eyes immediately fades, and Astarion wonders just how genuine it might have been. “Fucking finally.”

“Okay…”

“Did it go well? Do I need to step out for a bit? If it went poorly that’s super awkward because there’s no escaping each other and how do you know if the date is over if you’re already going home together?”

Liv is blushing furiously, and Astarion rubs at his temples. “I think the date’s over now.”

Petras looks positively smug about whatever has transpired here. “Wanna watch the show with me?”

Liv is already halfway to the couch. “Yeah, is this the pastry episode?”

The three of them settle into their usual, easy routine, but Astarion can’t help glancing at Liv in some attempt to catch her eye. Each time he does, he’s met with the brilliance of her smile. They certainly do make their own normal.

[romirola]

Headcanons for the Shaw Pack’s Holiday Volunteer Work

Started by Gabe and preserved by David, the Shaw Pack has a tradition of incorporating extra volunteer work into their schedules as the season of many holidays approaches. It’s not mandatory or something they officially report, but the pack takes their responsibility to continue the tradition seriously.

David: Food Drive Organizer- David organizes a massive food drive that benefits Dahlia’s food pantry. Not only will he organize and promote it all himself (although according to the paperwork, he does so anonymously), but David also gives a huge amount of non-perishable food. Once everything is collected and ready to be distributed, David always ensures to set up distribution so that it is equitable and welcoming for everyone who uses the food pantry. 

Angel: Writes Cards for Nursing Home Residents- Beginning as early as September, Angel writes hundreds of cards for nursing home residents who may or may not receive any visitors. They take special care to write different messages on each card, sometimes including little jokes or drawings. 

Asher: Arranges a 5K Race/24hrs Caroling Event to Benefit Humanborn Acclimation Services and Programs- Asher’s annual “Holiday 5K/Caroling Extravaganza” has become quite a popular event among the empowered population of Dahlia, even if it is a bit eclectic. Racers in the 5K acquire sponsorships to participate. Groups of carolers do the same and provide some sort of musical entertainment (broadly defined to include all ages, talents, and interpretations) for 24 consecutive hours. All of the proceeds of the event benefit programs that help humanborn empowered people acclimate to their magic, which, as the son of two humanborn wolves, is a cause near and dear to Asher’s heart. The event is always a fun and festive success, with local businesses donating the prizes and restaurants providing food for everyone. 

Babe: Gift Wrapper to Benefit a Homeless Shelter- Babe spends a couple weeknights per week at a department store as a gift wrapper. All of the donations go directly to a local homeless shelter. Babe wraps each gift so carefully and precisely that the clients feel compelled to double the donation they were originally planning to give. 

Milo: Plays Santa at the Local Library- He schedules weekend visits at the public library and arranges for a photographer to accompany him so that even families who cannot afford a portrait of their child(ren) with Santa have the opportunity to get one at no cost (plus a candy cane!) Milo works hard all year to perfect his “Ho-Ho-Hos!” and listens to every child as they speak with him. If a child does not want to sit on his lap or has sensory difficulties, Milo is always accommodating and makes sure that the visit is friendly and fun. 

Sweetheart: Blood Donor- Sweetheart always makes sure to donate blood to ensure that the vampiric community will have sufficient blood bag resources to sustain them during a time of year where Clans often celebrate together and are in need of extra blood. They are proud to help support the vampire community any time of the year, but especially when many are missing their former lives and traditions. 

Darling: Shifts to Serve as a Therapy Dog at a Pediatric Hospital- In their wolf form, Darling visits unempowered children who are currently hospitalized and are in need of some holiday cheer since they are fighting to get better and cannot yet return home. Unlike the parents, guardians, and other adult visitors, the children are never afraid of Darling as a wolf. They cheer and clap when they see Darling stroll through the door and jump on their beds. The children eagerly pet them and talk about whatever they want. To be able to do this, Darling proudly forged a “Therapy Dog Certification” document for themselves. 

Sam: Secretly Shovels and Salts Sidewalks- Sam will often take his trusty shovel and bag of salt to neighborhoods of Dahlia that seem to be last on the list for shoveling and salting. He works under cover of night, able to make good use of his vampiric strength and speed to clear walkways and keep everyone safe from falling on icy paths. 

[kaaaaaaarf]

You know what time it is! everywhere, everything by @lynxindisguise updated today with a vampire (!!!) chapter, and I maybe shucked off work to read it 👀 (so worth it). As per usual, the playlist has been updated! Songs and lyrics/explanations below the cut.

Universe 668x: Vampires

Vicious by Daniel Hart & Damir Orascanin

Instrumental. It's from the Interview With The Vampire TV show soundtrack and is suitably mood setting (along with being a suggestion from Lynx 🫡)

Bloodsport '15 by Raleigh Ritchie

Nothing is perfect but your imperfections are quaint And your love is worth it and for that I will wait And though you hate me, when you have a turn I drive you crazy but you always return If I fall short, if I break rank It's a bloodsport, but I understand I am all yours, I am unmanned I'm on all fours, willingly damned Loving you's a bloodsport Fighting in a love war Although you love me, sometimes we're mean Things can get ugly but we're still a team We are an army that breaks from within But that's why we're stronger, and that's how we'll win [...] I've got your back, and though it's stacked against us I've got your hand, it's us against consensus And I will burn the people who hurt you the worst and I will not learn Cause I am too young and too dumb to consider the terms of breaking the law And I'll curse the day that they return With a smile on my face as their heads hit the floor And they're done, now it's curtains, the bloodlust's a clusterfuck, it hurts but it's working And even if you ask me to stop, it's too late because I've already decided their fate It's not a distaste, it's pure hate and it pulsates and it works its way around my brain Anyway, what I'm trying to say is I'll protect you til the day I meet my maker So don't fight me now cause you might need me later [...] It's not what I'm in love for, I'm yours I don't know if you can help it, maybe I'm just being selfish...

(fun fact: the singer of this song is actually Jacob Anderson from IWTV!!)

Vampire by Lupin

Cold weather shivers like a knife in the back tonight The things you claim that you knew had taken flight A tipsy remedy while something's causing strife Familiar echoes warn from a past life You got ambition, baby I can admire that You say you love me when there’s nobody lovin' back Call me a criminal, I'm wearing the mask tonight Familiar echoes scream from a past life You want me to go back to your room Well, lie to me, I’ll lie to you I think the jig will be up soon But can it wait 'til the morning? Can it wait 'til the morning? Can it? It got so bloody like the moon on Friday night I sunk my teeth in so deep but you just sigh Can't get off? Well babe, neither can I Familiar echoes bored from the past life

(it's called Vampire by Lupin and the lyrics are chef's kiss...couldn't not add it)

Vampire Weeknight by Jenny Owen Youngs

I don't wanna think about you but I do I don't wanna think about you but I do I do I do Pour another finger out or maybe two Cause I don't wanna drink without you but I do, I do

All night I'm suspended animation Watch the palm trees out the window all turn black Sleeplessly I'm paralyzed and waiting Will you come back [...] Pacing like a bobcat in the kitchen Or up the stairs just solitaire-ing in my room Preacher's on the late-night television Saying "... soon" [...] Asking every empty room what you'd say Bloodless in the bathroom mirror, oh my god Just tryna make it through another Tuesday Or maybe not

Reflections Scatter by Module

Instrumental. This is from the What We Do In The Shadows movie soundtrack and felt appropriately atmospheric and sad.

If We Were Vampires by Noah Kahan ft. Wesley Schultz

It's not the long, flowing dress that you're in Or the light coming off of your skin The fragile heart you protected for so long Or the mercy in your sense of right and wrong It's not your hands searching slow in the dark Or your nails leaving love's watermark It's not the way you talk me off the roof Your questions like directions to the truth

It's knowing that this can't go on forever It's likely one of us will have to spend some days alone Maybe we'll get forty years together But one day I'll be gone Or one day you'll be gone

If we were vampires and death was a joke We'd go out on the sidewalk and smoke Laugh at all the lovers and their plans I wouldn't feel the need to hold your hand Maybe time running out is a gift I'll work hard 'til the end of my shift And give you every second I can find And hope it isn't me who's left behind

Bats In The Attic by King Creosote & Jon Hopkins

And I've gone silver in my travels, Growing silver in my sideburns, I'm starting to unravel. Heard my heartbeat on a downhill, I counted eighteen on my pulse as Kilrenny Church struck three for three o'clock. What else? [...] It's such a waste of all that I had.

You mentioned bats in the attic, So now you're lifting up the tiles to get around these conservation rules. I walked down in the basement. I'm hanging upside down, a gag across my mealy mouth.

And how I'll laugh out loud about that. When I read your simple novel, it uses all our real names. And go make yourself a fortune, There's nothing left for us then us left dangling just a little shamefaced.

It's such a waste of what we had. And it's such a waste of all that we had. And it's such a waste of all that I am.

[collegetennisoriginstory]

SERIOUSLY, THE DOUBLES MATCH WAS JUST CHEF'S KISS!!! IT'S LITERALLY 4AM, I WAS JUST GOING TO REACH THE UPDATE AND THE KEEP PLAYING TOMORROW BUT IT WAS SOO GOOD I COULDN'T STOP.

I love that you added the option to wear Sam's jacket, specially since Finley's tiny so it just swallows her.

Also for some reason I made her extra salty towards her mom every time she's mentioned. And even though she's forgiven her father their relationship will never be the same because at some point she stopped expecting his presence.

AHHH!!!

Glad you liked the Sam jacket shenanigans, ever since I wrote that bit about Sam stealing MC's jacket, I knew there had to be a chance for a real swaparoo (with the team teasing MC about it).

Also salty MC re: their mom is absolutely 1000% valid and I can't wait to write mom scenes, though disclaimer that's at least 2398472 updates away, there's just so much ground to cover T.T

Loved the song, I feel like it really captures the mood of sleeplessly tossing and turning in bed (oh, Rayyan'd be so damned mad their losing their PRECIOUS ATHLETE'S SLEEP over something as stupid as L O V E. *makes strangled sound of frustration*) .

[mychemicalraymance]

how many mcr concerts did you go to??

4 !! I originally had my pit ticket in philly that got delayed due to covid, but when travel opened up I went to Paris with scholarship funding I had received a few years ago. The last night I was there I impulsively decided to see them!! It was awesome. Then I saw them in philly, and it was so great I decided to see them all other times I possibly could. I also saw them in Brooklyn (9/12) and finally Newark (rented a car on a weeknight to do that one LMAO)(that was the casino jacket night).

My most expensive ticket was philly, for like $350 I believe? Fuck youuuuu wells Fargo Arena. But it was also the best concert ever. Literally got barricade for Pool Boy At The Vampire Mansion. Then I paid 100 and something for brooklyn, I got my newark ticket as a resale on tumblr for 50, and then my paris ticket was also cheap like 60 or 70 euros.

[jbk405]

I stopped at a different library than usual today on the way home from work. Their operating schedule is actually MUCH more convenient for me than "my" library, so I may start going here more often (They're open until 9PM on weeknights, so there's no rush to get there before closing).

Their "library of things" is very impressive. I think you can even borrow art. I don't have enough room to hang up all of the art I already have, but it's fantastic that people can literally take home a wall painting if they want to. Plus vinyl records, which is just cool.

I didn't spend too much time there, but I did check our their DVD media section and grabbed seasons 1-5 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. These are the original releases, so no worries about the problems that the remaster has.

I'll definitely be going back.

[somethin-real]

Thanks for answering my ask....If you don't mind me asking (again), can I ask, what are your top 10 (or top 7) favorite media (can be books/ manga/ anime/movies/tv series)? Why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before.....

I am once again answering asks months later than I should have because time isn’t real and I never open my phone BUT I will never give up an excuse to talk about the stuff I like so let’s go

(This is in no particular order because besides the first two I can’t pick a favourite child)

1) interview with the vampire (tv)

God. This thing has taken over my brain chemistry. I first watched it as the first season aired a few years back and loved it then and now that the second season has aired I literally cannot stop thinking about it. I have watched every episode of this series at least four times, some more than others because I genuinely can’t get enough. It’s simply so perfect to me… the camp… the vampires… everyone should watch this at least once in their lives (I am also currently working my way through the books and they are so tasty)

2) nbc Hannibal

GUH. I strangely never talk about it but Hannibal was one of the first shows to rewire my brain like iwtv has. I first watched it back in high school I think after a girl I had a crush on lended it to me on a usb stick and I think it’s so perfect. I find it really beautiful in a real vile way (pos) and can watch it over and over without tiring (in fact I could probably recite many of the episodes off by heart which I wouldn’t consider a problem but Some People might). The relationship between Hannibal and Will is so palpable and harrowing and I genuinely once wrote an essay on it for uni (I got an eighty) because I’m Normal

3) life is strange 2

a bit of a random one, but ever since I played the first episode of lis2, I’ve been obsessed with it. say what you want about the lis games, but there’s something really lovely to me about Sean and Daniel. maybe it’s because it reminds me of my little brother, maybe it’s because the experience of being a Latin person in North America is so familiar, but it’s a really beautiful game and I’ve replayed it… seven times now? I think? I keep trying to get different endings but I’m weird about making people do bad stuff in video games surprisingly

4) red dead redemption 2

Look man. I like cowboys, I like the great outdoors, I like the idea that Arthur Morgan (gunslinging criminal) is actually a pretty princess. Maybe I’m projecting but he really is a beautiful woman to me. this is another game I’ve played way too many times even though playing the epilogue bit where you have to build the fence makes me want to die. also Javier and John should kiss and I want sadie Adler to be my wife

5) sarazanmai

Maybe a bit of an oddball but this is one of those anime that’s like looking at a car wreck. You simply cannot look away. What began as a strange, mythological mindfuck of a show slowly morphed into a beautiful story about queerness and friendship and love and I recommend it to everyone because I just think it’s so good

6) wildhood

This movie fundamentally changed me. It’s a Canadian queer indigenous coming of age film that I watched on a whim when I was scrolling through a streaming service on a lazy weeknight a few years ago, and I didn’t expect it to be something so beautiful and touching. It’s about a young guy named link who finds out his mother (who left him with his abusive father) is alive, and so he crosses the province trying to find her with his younger half brother and someone who’d saved him from some racist convenience store owner. It’s a visually really pretty movie, and on top of that the story is absolutely beautiful and makes me cry every time I watch it. I think I’ve forced every single one of my friends to watch this movie all the while I stared at them like this 👁️👁️ to gauge their reaction to it. please please please watch this

7) to be taught if fortunate by becky chambers

this book!!!!!! THIS BOOK!!!! I had to read this for first year English my first year of university and normally books I’m forced to read are never ones that have a hold on me but I genuinely could not put this book down. I’m also not really one for science fiction, but despite the overall premise (a bunch of researchers get cryo slept in space only to awake and find that a disaster has happened on earth, wiping out a majority of the population) I feel like it focuses less on the science fiction and more so on the relationships between all of the astronauts, most of whom are queer and in a weird pseudo poly relationship with each other. idk I just thought this book was really beautiful and fun and I think everyone should read it

8) jojo’s bizarre adventure

look. this thing had to make it on here okay. I put off getting into jojo for a long time even though I’d been thoroughly aware of it even back in middle school, and when I finally caved I watched all of it in about two months, shaking and gnawing at the bars of my enclosure the whole time. it’s just so silly and fun and I think kishibe rohan should be real (he is)

I was going to add more but my brain somehow isn’t working so I’m going to do some honourable mentions again in no particular order: yakuza series, death note, after dark by haruki murakami, anything by Allen Ginsberg, kill your darlings, it’s always sunny in Philadelphia, fellow travellers (book and show)

Thank you so much for the ask!

[hxneyfarm]

tagged by @steves-strapcollection, and the challenge is to spell my url with song titles! i've already done this but I'm doing it again and i'm gonna use all different songs and i'm gonna make another playlist bc i am a copycat!

Sleeptalk by Dayseeker

Chasing Twisters by Delta Rae

A House in Nebraska by Ethel Cain

Rain by Sleep Token

Cool About It by boygenius

Resilience by Pierce the Veil

Oblivion by Palaye Royale

Shut Me Up by Mindless Self Indulgence

Strawberry Wine by Noah Kahan

DYWTYLM by Sleep Token

Love Maze by BTS

Vampire Weeknight by Jenny Owen Youngs

Respite on the Spitalfields by Ghost

Somebody Told Me by Motionless in White

the playlist for y'all <33

no pressure tags: @patchworkgargoyle, @starryeyedjanai, @starrystevie, @judasofsuburbia