#there’s some fantasy racism in here I guess??

[skyward-floored]

Another little IAU fic! I mentioned I was going to write this recently, and despite having a billion other things to work on I did this instead oof

This one is less lighthearted than some of them but... you know I love my angst. Sorry. It’s all good in the end.

Read on ao3

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It was amazing how fast things could go wrong sometimes.

Time was seated on the front porch of their small house, keeping an eye on Twilight gently petting one of the neighbor’s cats while Malon attended to some chores inside. His son was absolutely delighted by the furry creature, and it let out a meow, Twilight giggling as it licked his hand.

Time felt a smile pull at his lips, aware that it had been a while since he’d made such an expression.

It was a surprisingly warm winter day, the promise of spring on the breeze, and he was taking the time to enjoy it, trying to put all thoughts of bans and supers from his mind. It was difficult though, especially when he heard the sound of a baby fussing from inside, and Malon shushing him.

Legend was a few months old now, and so was the law that made any sort of hero work illegal, leaving them all struggling with what exactly the future would hold for their family. They were all still processing everything that had happened, and trying to navigate life now that they weren’t allowed to use their powers for... pretty much anything.

Time sighed and shook his head, firmly getting rid of his thoughts. He’d come out here to enjoy the sunshine, not brood.

He continued to watch Twilight, the cat rubbing around him and purring so loudly Time could hear it from where he was sitting, and he chuckled. His son had a way with animals, just like his wife, and it was always endearing to watch.

Almost as if she knew he’d been thinking of her, Malon suddenly called his name from inside, and Time turned back to reply to her question. He had to get up and go to the door to hear her better when Legend let out a loud squeal, and looked away from Twilight for a moment.

And in the small space of time his eyes weren’t on his son, the cat Twilight had been happily petting got startled by a loud noise in another yard. It’s fur fluffed straight up, and it darted away from him, bolting towards the street.

“Kitty!” Twilight cried, and ran after it onto the pavement. Time turned back at his shout, eye widening as Twilight ran after the cat across the street, the creature already safely on the other side.

A car suddenly sped into view, and Twilight froze when he saw it, staring as it barreled down the street. The driver obviously couldn’t see him due to his height, and wasn’t slowing down a bit.

Time didn’t hesitate.

“Twilight!”

He bolted across the street as he activated his powers, lunging for Twilight and tucking him close to his chest as the car’s brakes squealed.

Metal slammed into Time, and while the impact didn’t hurt him, it did knock him forward a bit, sending him sliding across the pavement. He let out an involuntary grunt that was drowned out by the sound of the car crashing into him, and waited several seconds once it quieted to be sure the car had stopped.

Then Time uncurled from around Twilight and frantically looked him over, patting him down and then holding his shoulders.

“Twilight are you okay?” he asked urgently, and his son stared at him, his eyes wide with shock. He didn’t speak, but his face had gone white, and Time picked him back up, holding him tightly in his arms as smoke wafted up from the car beside them.

Twilight clutched at him with shaking hands, and Time ran a slow hand over his head.

“You’re okay, you’re okay pup,” Time breathed, Twilight trembling in his arms, Time’s own heart pounding like it would explode.

If he’d been even a second later...

“Sir! Sir is your boy...”

The voice died, and as Time turned around to look at the handful of people who had come to stare at the accident, he realized they’d all just seen him get hit by a car and come out of the ordeal unscathed.

And all of those people knew what that meant.

His stomach sank, and he couldn’t help but count the people that had gathered around, staring at him, at the car, at Twilight...

The first few that had approached were now looking at him with shock and distaste on their faces as they realized what had happened, and the man who’d been driving the car had gotten out and was staring between Time and the crumpled front of his vehicle with an expression that only grew angrier.

Time held Twilight more tightly in his arms, well aware that his eyes were still glowing as the crowd began to murmur.

“Link!”

Time turned at the shout to see Malon running towards him, and when she reached his side she immediately met his eyes, her face pale.

“Link, are you—”

“Take him, call Impa,” Time breathed, and Malon did as he said, though Twilight didn’t particularly want to leave his arms. He finally gave in once he realized who was taking him, and clung to Malon as she quickly strode back into the house.

Then Time turned back to the onlookers, and swallowed, letting go of his powers. He just needed to keep things calm until Impa could get here. She was always quick and would handle the small crowd, and make sure his identity was forgotten as well, but until she got here...

Time didn’t get a chance to say anything in his defense before the driver of the car stomped over though, his face red with anger.

“You! You’re a super!” the man bellowed. “You’re— you destroyed my car!”

Anger welled up in Time’s chest. “You were speeding in a residential area,” he shot back, glaring at the man. “And nearly hit my son due to it.”

The man glared back, and began spouting something about expensive cars and insurance and laws, but Time didn’t bother listening to him. He’d nearly run Twilight over and didn’t even care, there was nothing he had to say that Time wanted to hear.

“...better there’d be less of your kind around anyway...”

But that caught his attention.

Time whipped around and grabbed the man’s collar, feeling his power return in a rush of anger as he glared down at him.

“Say that again,” he growled, and the man balked as he stared up at Time.

The street went silent, and the man didn’t move for several seconds, squirming under his glare. But then he glanced at his car and seemed to regain some of his swagger, sneering as he met Time’s eyes.

“We don’t want your kind here,” he spat. “A danger to society is all you are, a bunch of freaks who think they can do whatever they want, all because they’ve got glowing eyes or laser powers or whatever other ungodly thing it is that’s wrong with you. And any spawn of yours is exactly the—”

Time slammed him against the side of his car, and the man’s mouth clicked shut, his sneer evaporating.

“Leave my children out of this,” he snarled, and the man seemed to finally realize the precarious situation he was in.

His face went pale, and he began to babble out some kind of apology, but Time was done listening. His vision had narrowed down to the man’s face mere inches from his own, and he nearly threw him through his own car’s windshield.

And then he remembered that it wouldn’t change anything.

Time continued to glare at the man, but the anger pounding through him was being slowly replaced with a drained feeling, and disgust as the man continued to grovel and apologize.

Time glared at him a moment longer, face still inches from the man’s own, then forced himself to release his collar and step back. Picking a further fight would only worsen the situation, no matter how badly the man deserved a solid punch to his nose.

A murmur went up around them, and Time suddenly remembered he wasn’t alone, a cold feeling swamping over him as he glanced around.

Any sympathy on the onlookers’ faces had been almost entirely swept away, and they were now looking at him with a mix of fear and hatred. Never mind the fact that he’d saved a toddler from being run over— he’d threatened someone with his powers, and in doing so, proved their prejudices correct.

He was dangerous.

The sound of a car approaching caught everyone’s attention, and Time relaxed a little as a van pulled up, and a stern-looking woman got out along with a few other people.

Impa.

The agent took in the scene with a slow glance, the onlookers’ murmuring doubled at her arrival. Then Impa met Time’s eyes, then sighed, shaking her head as he quietly let his powers fall away.

“Later,” she cut him off when he opened his mouth to explain, and gestured for him to go inside.

I want your side of the story, but now is not the time.

Time closed his mouth, and did as she said, turning and walking back to his house. He didn’t give the man or the onlookers a single glance as he passed them, and didn’t bother listening to whatever Impa had begun to say to the crowd.

He merely went inside, and closed the door.

It seemed strangely quiet as he walked in, Legend’s babbling quieted for once, and Time walked forward in a near daze. Something squeaked as he took a step forward though, and he paused, lifting his foot and staring at the little chew toy they’d gotten for Twilight to play with as a wolf.

The weight of everything that had just happened suddenly hit him, and Time pressed a hand to his forehead, slowly breathing out as he leaned back against the door. He’d just completely revealed his identity to a small crowd of people, threatened a man in front of them as well, and Twilight had nearly...

Time took a deep breath, forcibly tucking his thoughts away, then went to find where Malon had gone with Twilight.

He could think about it all later.

He found them in the living room with the first-aid kit, Malon cleaning up a scrape Twilight had gotten on his leg. She was just finishing putting a bandaid over it when Time walked in, and she met his eyes, her own shiny with worry.

He sighed and crossed the room, sitting next to her and putting an arm around her and Twilight.

Twilight was still clinging to Malon’s shirt, trembling a little, but still not crying, and when Time sat next to him he squeezed himself up against his chest. Time ran a soothing hand through his hair, and Twilight buried his head between him and Malon.

“What happened Link?” Malon asked in a low voice. “I heard the crash, but what..?”

“Later,” he whispered, well aware that if he tried to explain everything, than what was left of his composure would likely crack. “I promise, just... not now.”

Malon’s face creased even further, but then Twilight shivered, and she nodded, not replying as she soothed him. Their son let out a small hiccupy noise, pressing his face even more tightly into his parents’ chests, and Time ran his hand through Twilight’s hair again as a tight feeling squeezed his stomach.

Forget everything else that had happened. Twilight was safe.

Malon rested her head on his, and Time held her and Twilight close, closing his eyes with a small shudder.

In the end, even with all of the consequences that would doubtlessly arise from this, that was the only thing that truly mattered.

#Incredibles au #linkeduniverse #Incredibles au fic #fic #lu twilight #lu time #lu Malon #hurt/comfort #writing from the floor #there’s some fantasy racism in here I guess?? #well #ask to tag #there we go

[softgrungeprophet]

Title: sweet amber

Rating: M

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings (pls see bolded tags for warnings)

Category: M/M

Fandom: Fantastic Four (Comicverse)

Relationship: Johnny Storm/Wyatt Wingfoot

Characters: Wyatt Wingfoot, Johnny Storm, Zodiac, Susan Storm, Victor von Doom, Reed Richards, Ben Grimm, (and zodiac’s cronies)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fae & Fairies, Magic, Whump. Blood and Injury, Implied/Referenced Torture, Rescue, Eventual Romance, Hurt/Comfort, 19th-20th century inspired setting, lighthouse keeper wyatt, fairy johnny, Nudity, POV Alternating, Mild Gore, Surgery, Mugging, Medicinal Drug Use

Words: 28,876

Chapters: 8

Summary:

Wide eyes—and now Wyatt saw the fairy part of this young man. Petal-like pointed ears and the most unearthly eyes: no pupil, just blue like an opal, flashing red and gold. In addition; three tiny ocelli, like blue-pink seed-pearls, on his forehead. Wyatt stared at him, and he at Wyatt, for a long moment...

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36763246

Now complete!

please heed the warnings if you choose to read. I wouldn’t consider this fic excessively graphic, but there are a couple of scenes that are definitely a bit intense or potentially upsetting for some people and my idea of mild blood and gore might be someone else’s idea of graphic violence. plus there is some straightforward and sometimes detailed talk of pretty serious injuries, particularly in the first few chapters, so just keep that in mind.

#arghfic #johnnywyatt #also i don't plan to go into racism particularly cause this is still ultimately fantasy romance but i'm not gonna pretend it doesn't exist #so there are some small hints of that here and there like the jeweler not talking to wyatt and vague implications about wyatt's upbringing #involving the mission school cause it's like. Yes this is fantasy. But also. This is heavily 19th century influenced fantasy #and wyatt is native american #so like. i'm not gonna handwave it away entirely #even if it's not the point or the focus #but i don't plan to go into detail w/ it either cause that's really not... something i am equipped to discuss #especially in the context of a like... fanfiction about fairies and shit #But I am thinking about it as I write this even if I'm not going into depth with it #man there are a couple of scenes that get into his appearance and why he has long hair and stuff that i haven't really been able to include #cest la vie i guess..... not everything can make it in

[demilypyro]

She's only a half-elf, huh? Was I supposed to be able to tell that somehow? I guess her features are a bit rounder than the other elves we've seen, but I just figured that was because she's young. What's really interesting here is that she herself is subject to prejudice for being mixed, but still perpetuates some of the prejudice against non-elves.... Fantasy racism just like real life racism huh

#dungeon meshi spoilers #dungeon meshi

[marivoid]

(TW: Dehumanization, talk of opening up a mechanical bird to empty out its stomach, fantasy racism? I guess? Martyn fears one character in this story based on appearances- You'll see what I mean.)

Entry 36

Day 229

"I told you! Ohh, look who has an upset tummy because they wanted to drink something other than clean oil?" Martyn kept a steady pace as rubbed the bird's back. "But noo, mister smarty pants wanted to drink WATER."

A defeated caw left the sickly bird trapped in Martyn's arm. Poor Brian had been sick ever since this morning. With Martyn's water bottle being knocked over and tiny claw marks all over the metal... It wasn't hard to put two and two together.

"Oh I know. I know. Water and oil don't feel nice now does it? We're going to a shop, don't worry. Get a nice mechanic to take a look at you and empty out your stomach. Then I'll get you some clean oil. Sound like a deal?"

Another quiet caw, with a hint of hopefulness. Martyn would take that response if it meant Brian wouldn't try to take off.

Thankfully the shop was just as the hostess had said. Two blocks down, take a right, and look for... The building covered in all sorts of colors. "This... Is the place we're supposed to go to, Birdy."

A very hesitant caw.

"You and me both, bud." Martyn shouldered his way through the door. "Hello?" His eyes glazed the room, taking note of the rather plain interior. A few wooden chairs, checkered tiles, tools laying about everywhere... Yep. Definitely a mechanic's office.

With nobody in sight.

"Are they closed? Oh I hope not." Martyn stepped away from the door with a small grunt. "Sorry for any turbulence on Martyn Air, Brian. We shall provide you snacks as compensation." He said in response to the flurry of caws.

"I didn't know a crow- Helllllo." Martyn's eyes flicked up to a man leaning through the door. Who just so happened to be covered in an insane amount of colors. "Are you a paying customer by chance? Did you have an appointment with Doc?"

"Doc?" The Doctor? Was he here? "No, no, no, my little friend here decided it would be a smart idea to dunk his beak in my water bottle."

Another caw, sounding apologetic.

"Oh don't apologize to me! It's your tummy that you need to say sorry to." Martyn rubbed his head with a quiet sigh. "If you can't already tell, poor Brian here needs his stomach panel cracked open and checked. Think you could help?"

The other shook his head quickly. "Not me, no can do. I work on chems and spray paints. I can see if Doc is free to help? He works with machines more than I do. He could help you a lot more than me."

"As long as he helps Brian."

The multi-colored man eventually left Martyn in the waiting room. "Well. There you go! We're getting you some help, little fella." Martyn sat down in the closest chair with a small huff. "We just gotta wait a little bit. Get the Doc to look over you. Empty out your poor stomach."

A part of Martyn's mind wondered. What... What if this was THE Doctor? Could his arm problem be solved? Could he finally embark on his way home? Was... The G.U.I.D.E even his home anymore? What about Scott? He's alive! But... He hates his guts. His stupid mouth went blabbering and rage took over... Not to forget that bird guy beside him could have been the Canary Flight Master! He had managed to piss off two people in one day! Embarrassing, really.

"Hello?" A far deeper voice lulled Martyn out of his thoughts. And oh. Oh. He wished that his thoughts would consume his mind at that very moment.

The... THING towered over Martyn by an easy two feet, if not more. (And Martyn was a proud 6"0, a height that isn't all that common in the Crashlands.) But it wasn't the towering height that threw Martyn off. No, it was the pale green skin that clung to the man like glue. The way copper clung to the man's every breath, the twitch of his hand as it rested above his shoulder- The horrific glowing red eye that seemed to bore through his soul. The horrifyingly large horns that looked so impossible and yet were possible all at once.

Martyn had seen some weird things. He'd seen a LOT of oddities and impossible things in the Crashlands. But this. This takes the cake. Whatever this FREAK was, it was a danger. And with how still Brian had gotten in his arms, his bird agreed.

"You were requesting an audience with me? A problem with your... Bird?" That voice sent a shiver down his spine and NOT in a good way.

"Y-You are Doc?" Martyn cursed the way his voice stuttered. "Yeah- Yes! Yes, Brian. He... He drank some water this morning a-and..." His grip tightened on Brian subconsciously. That hand was getting so close to his bird. And the THING noticed. And it smiled.

Fucking SMILED.

"Don't be so jumpy! I promise to not harm him." The abomination assured. "As long as he doesn't peck me, we're fine!"

Brian's small caw rung through Martyn's mind. Right. Brian. Do this for Brian. He stared up at... Doc... And let out a sigh. "Okay. Let's....If it will help out Brian."

"Yes. I think it will."

(More to be added, the author is sleep deprived.)

#hermitblr #hermitcraft #the crash #hermitaday #void art #original art #mcyt fanart #martyn inthelittlewood #martyn itlw #docm77 #docm77 fanart #cubfan135 #cubfan fanart

[writingwithcolor]

Black/white interracial lesbian couple on alien road trip

nathaliebjoern asked:

What concerns would A have going on a roadtrip in USA in an alien/sci-fi tourist stops type way (circa 2013)? A is Black, grew up and lives in Denmark, parents are from African-country-yet-to-be-determined (possibly Ethiopia, but I do take suggestions here), going to USA with (white) girlfriend. Example: they're worried about being two young girls on a road trip (exacerbated by being wlw) so they are taking self defence before leaving (bonus: gets convenient/relevant later when they have to fight sudden, real aliens). Is there some specific concern A would have (bonus if relevant for alien hunting or car chasing adventures)? What precautions would she take or concerns might she have? Any concerns she might discuss with gf, even if there are no precautions to take? Or just ruminate over in internal monologue, i guess, but i want them to have a healthy relationship with lots of communication lol. She's the planning, overprepared type! I want the focus to be on their Alien fighting road trip adventure and coming of age lesbianism in the background, but i want to still acknowledge any issues A might have.

"I want the focus to be on their Alien fighting road trip adventure and coming of age lesbianism in the background, but i want to still acknowledge any issues A might have."

How far the world has progressed in terms of discrimination in your alien sci-fi world is up to you. Based on your description, racism and homophobia still exists. Perhaps it just isn't as much of a problem in this setting or story. Or encounters would depend on the town so your characters avoid and don't happen upon areas that may be a problem for the couple. Either way, it is not erasure to have a story where discrimination isn't something the characters encounter. I find this to be especially true for science fiction and fantasy.

As a Black woman who likes to travel, and in an interracial relationship, I take certain precautions before I travel. One way I do this is to research the travel experiences shared from Black women and mixed couples who've been to the places that I'm considering. I also look into news stories and reports about any incidents in the area.

This could also apply if you're LGBTQIA, in an interracial relationship and so on. As your character is a planning, super prepared type, it'd make sense if they mapped out their stops to make sure they were interracial couple / Black / LGBTQIA+ friendly and avoided any places that were not.

Also, what "friendly" or safe looks like may vary. Not all travel experiences are blatant in their discrimination or othering behavior.

What general attitudes might range from: ideas

The travelers blend in. There's enough diversity and tourism where you don't get an unwelcome attitude from the townspeople.

Some stares, second-glances and curiousity, but little to no blatant hostility.

Strong "celebrity-status" othering, to the point of being touched, pictures snapped of you, asked to poise for photos if asked at all, given free gifts, etc. (Note: this can be quite uncomfortable)

Stares and standoffish behavior from locals, but no incidents of violence.

Bold-faced hostility, such as intimidating glares, recording, taunts, yelling, and possible physical encounters like spitting.

Explicit threats, violence, being warned to leave, high risks of bodily harm.

Note that this doesn't mean everyone in a place would all act this way. I've traveled where there were stares of curiosity in one city or standoffish behavior in others, but it didn't extent to everyone in those places, staff, and so on. It also didn't sum up every single encounter. I've even heard tales of the very hostile places where a person warns the traveler that they should leave to avoid trouble from others in the town, usually out of kind warning. One can travel anywhere, really, and come across hostile people, and in that same town experience kindness.

Applying these travel experiences your story

The characters just mentioning that they've done their research and will avoid these kinds of places with known negative experiences should be enough. You don't need an actual experience of discrimination to play out, if you'd rather avoid that.

If you did want to include something without including an active experience, you could bring up the matter by mentioning the history of a place. For example, they learn some info and tell their partner that "Blank, Tennessee was once a sundown town and would've been unsafe for us ninety years ago." Or they mention some historical event that happened at a certain place, possibly even visiting a historic monument or museum.

I hope this helps; your story sounds fun!

~Mod Colette

#Bwww #interracial romance #lgbtqia #aliens #racism #discrimination #sundown towns #traveling while black #asks

[coolfijiwater]

larian studios and wyll

so i’ve been meaning to make a post about wyll for a while now, and now is the time (lol). but i’ve been thinking and talking to friends about the lack of content wyll has in bg3, and it’s something that i think i noticed even when playing with early access. but the full game release really puts a giant spotlight on the content disparities between the main companions and even various npcs.

i don’t know if i want to fully list every single spot where wyll clearly lacks in content because i find that it’s incredibly obvious. but the few things i do want to mention are his romance/sex scene and his story line and beats being about practically everyone else. and i know that the second one is super vague and encompassing, but that’s the core of the issue. larian studios “rework” of wyll’s story line did nothing to fix it and, quite possibly, made it worse.

since i only had access to act 1 during early access, i can’t speak to act 2 and 3. but even the changes in act 1 are apparent. while i do think some of the changes larian made were good (especially changing wyll from being incredibly racist towards goblins to not), but most of the changes were just cutting content.

and then there's what was added - mizora changing wyll’s race and appearance against his will because he saved karlach. i feel people have talked about this trope around poc and black people before when talking about disney’s the princess and the frog or brother bear, and that is something that has been discussed as openly racist (here’s a mic article talking about this concept).

but beyond this, that scene isn’t really about wyll. it’s about karlach, if you really think about it. wyll is being punished because of his decision (which isn’t even really his decision because your tav makes the real decision) to save her. and this sidelining of wyll is constant throughout his story line. saving his dad (multiple times) gets sidelined with ketheric or saving the gondians, finding ansur on behalf of his ulder gets overshadowed by the emperor and ansur relationship, and so much more. there’s also the fact that to learn anything about his mom, you need to kill his dad. and don’t get me wrong, i hate ulder ravengard with a fucking passion, but i wouldn’t purposely kill him because it makes wyll hate you. to make that aspect worse, wyll isn’t even the one to tell you the lore surrounding his mom, it’s just flavor text from ulder’s sword. 

there’s definitely more to say about how larian studios treats wyll’s story line, but i do want to talk about his romance story line. just like his story line, wyll’s romance is so much less than any of the other companions or even npcs. wyll has a sex scene, but it’s a fade to black with no voice over, which is nothing compared to one of the only other fade to black sex scenes: the drow twins. the drow twins have a number of sex scene options, all of which have voice overs. wyll, one of the 6 main companions, doesn’t even get this.

and i think this all leads back to larian studios not wanting to admit that they’re racist. wyll has consistently gotten nothing, even after release with all of these updates and patches. like, let’s be real here, the reason wyll has gotten nothing is not only because of the fans or data points, it’s because larian studios is racist. it’s them, seemingly, not being aware that the fantasy genre is steeped in racism because they don’t need to think about racism because they’re european, they’re not racist because they’re not american.

i don’t even know what i want to happen with this post. i guess i just wanted to open up this discussion and maybe remind people that larian studios is not infallible.

also! i feel like i need to mention that i love wyll. he is genuinely one of my favorite characters in bg3, i want more content for him. but we need to be real about why that content isn't already in the game.

#idk #i have more thoughts this is just me wanting to get my thoughts out in the world #anyway #me when i'm a european game studio and need to make sure we don't get hit with racism allegations so we put 1 black character in the game #(it's now somehow equally if not more racist) #wyll ravengard #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #long post #puck posting

[theboywithburninghands]

Here goes nothing. Arranged Marriage Funnybunny. Mostly worldbuilding and setup in this one. It was... something to make, that's for sure. Uh don't expect like... Jane Austen, but I went for a more... uh I guess... feel that was more old school? Just imagine a British narrator. Anyway here take it- T/W: Mentions of miscarriages, sexism, fantasy casual racism Primum Peccatum Chapter 1: You Don't Own Me

Primum Peccatum was an island a half-mile off the southeastern coast of Blackshell Bay, New Hirnantia. Inaccessible by any method other than ferry or private boat, Primum Peccatum was known throughout the county as a haven for the wealthy. Though Blackshell Bay was hardly a shantytown, those living in the coastal city often found themselves gazing wistfully or covetously at the island whenever they were on the southeastern beach in summertime or in the fish market near the harbor. Close enough to see, but far enough to never quite touch. Unless they were lucky enough to strike oil, inherit a good amount of money from a wealthy relative, or marry into one of the families already living on the island.

The Shutnyk family had lived on Primum Peccatum for two generations now. Originally a family of woodsmen, Nikolai Shutnyk broke the previously thought impermeable class barrier through, as said before, dumb luck. Nikolai, while living at a lumber mill in Telychia, would often go for long walks in the thick Telychian woods to try and curb his insomnia. While out there, he stumbled upon an as of then undiscovered natural gas reserve, and, under the nose of the logging company, managed to keep it a secret. Nikolai was talented with numbers and knew how to read and write despite his lower-class background, and drafted up a series of documents that he sent to several different gas companies along with some samples. In the documents, he offered to reveal the location of this reserve if he was given 100,000 crowns up front, and 5% of the profits from the reserves.

Although he was initially ignored, one struggling company by the name of East-West Renewable Energy sent an inspector to Nikolai, and they met in secret in the nearby town of Perrault’s End. Nikolai took the inspector out to the woods, and, when it was found to be very much real, the company gave Nikolai his up front payment, and began drilling. Nikolai quit his job at the end of his shift the next day, and moved to Perrault’s End. East-West’s earnings exploded overnight, and even though he had only asked for 5% of the earnings, it was enough to keep him sustained without the need of a job for a good two decades.

Newly wealthy and with a steady income, Nikolai Shutnyk caught the attention of several  prominent families in Perrault’s End. He was soon married to the daughter of one Cartofolio Marconi, a magistrate for several industrialists in the much larger neighboring city of Angel’s Peak. Nikolai’s skill with numbers made him a valuable asset to his father-in-law’s corporate clients, and he was given a share of the company’s earnings for his hard work. 

Nikolai and his wife, Clara Shutnyk, took the opportunity to purchase some land on Primum Piccatum, and had their manor built there. Nikolai continued his work for his father-in-law, and had a son with Clara, who they named Vladimir. Nikolai continued working until his death from a ruptured spleen when he was 61. Vladimir continued in his father’s stead, looking after his mother at his island manor and eventually finding a wife, the daughter of a surgeon named Amadeo. Her name was Mirella, and together they had a child of their own, a daughter, named Pomni. Her name was unique, taken from the Telychian word for “forget,” after Mirella’s favorite flower, the forget-me-not.

Pomni was the only child of Vladimir and Mirella, not for lack of trying. Mirella had miscarried three times before managing to have an underweight baby girl 4 weeks early. Luckily, her parents had access to high quality care thanks to their standing, and their newly born daughter lived. Pomni grew only somewhat larger in the following 25 years, never reaching any taller than 5 feet. 

Had she lived in more modern times, there would be better and more scientific terms to describe the way her mind worked, but her parents and teachers only referred to her as “a bit odd” or “not quite there.” She was intelligent, that couldn’t be denied: she was writing full sentences at six years of age and read ravenously, but her social skills left much to be desired. She had few school friends, rarely speaking at all unless spoken to, and didn’t smile unless she was actually happy.. However, her taciturn nature was never to be mistaken for weakness, and she had an intensely stubborn streak. 

When she was nine years old, a young lady in her class named Fredericka and her sycophants, seeing Pomni’s diminutive stature and hearing her unusual name, surrounded her desk one Monday before their lessons. Pomni looked up from her collection of Telychian short stories when the girls called her all manner of things, most of them pejoratives they’d overheard from their nationalist relatives. 

Pomni looked back down at her book, her face placid. Fredericka, confused and angry that her usual routine appeared ineffective on the quiet young lady, turned back to her friends. 

“She’s not just ugly, she’s deaf!” she declared.

Her laugh became a shriek as Pomni lunged for Fredericka’s arm, burying her sharp little teeth into the taller girl’s hand. Blood oozed from the punctured skin between her thumb and index finger and onto the polished hardwood floor. 

Despite the headmistress’s best efforts, Pomni couldn’t be made to apologize. Vladimir had to be summoned to her school, but even her father couldn’t persuade Pomni to apologize to her classmate. She said this to Vladimir. 

“She isn’t sorry, Papa. So neither am I.” 

Pomni was forbidden from the manor’s library for a month for her churlish behavior, but privately, Vladimir was impressed. His own father would never have obtained his fortune without steely resolve. Had he followed the herd, the lumber company would have sold that natural gas reserve to line the pockets of the already wealthy board of directors, and Nikolai wouldn’t have seen a single crown. 

Pomni’s classmates wisely decided to leave her alone after this incident, keeping their insults well out of earshot. Pomni graduated near the top of her class with excellent marks, a sure sign she would make a fine schoolteacher or court stenographer. Indeed, she inherited her father’s skill with numbers and attention to detail, and even began assisting her father with the heaps of paperwork from some of his weightier cases. 

Mirella loved her daughter as any mother should, and just like most mothers, she worried about her quite often. Oddness aside, Pomni had almost no interest in finding a husband. A little independence was important for any young lady, it was the sign of a healthy brain, which Pomni certainly possessed. But whenever Mirella asked her daughter if she saw any young gentlemen that caught her eye when she was across the reach running errands for the family, or in the library or the city park, her answers were unsatisfactory. 

“Oh yes, I did see a man with two different colored eyes. One blue, one brown. I believe the term is ‘heterochromia,’ did you know that, mother?”

“I saw a man who had lost an arm. I suppose he must have been a soldier, or perhaps a mill worker. It’s just terrible that someone’s livelihood can cost someone a limb, don’t you, mother?”

Mirella worried. Pomni was a pretty little thing. She had her father’s snowy fair skin and her own raven black hair, cut into a short little bob. When she smiled, which wasn’t often, it was illuminating. But she was 25, and that beauty wouldn’t last. In New Hirnantia, it was agreed that if a woman wasn’t married by age 30, she was destined for spinsterhood. Just five years… If Pomni wanted to carry on her family’s legacy, she needed to find a husband. She was their sole heir. Mirella couldn’t put herself through another miscarriage… and with her own advancing age, a failed pregnancy was all the more likely. 

There were many young men around Blackshell Bay that would have suited Pomni perfectly well had she just given them the time of day. University professors, magistrates, authors and poets… men who held the same appreciation for learning and the arts that Mirella’s daughter did. And they were steadily decreasing in number as other women Pomni’s age, some younger, took them to be their husbands. 

She confided in her husband one Spring evening before bed, collapsing into tears as her worries burst out like water from a crumbling dam. Vladimir held his wife and listened to her woes, stroking her hair and letting the torrent run its course. By the time Mirella’s sobs had waned into hiccups, Vladimir smiled at her. 

“Darling, I’m so terribly sorry you’ve kept all of this inside. The pain must have been monumental. And yes, I too have worried that our daughter may carry the family name to her grave. But, you needn’t worry any longer, lisichka. I believe a solution is within reach. I simply have to write a few letters. Our daughter will be happily wed by her 26th birthday.”

—

Pomni stepped off the ferry onto the dock, sturdy oak wood imported from the monolithic forests of Ediacara out west. 

“Be careful on your way home, Ms. Shutnyk.” the ferryman said. 

“You say this whenever I exit the boat, sir. I assure you, no sheer cliffs or bottomless canyons have suddenly appeared on my commute home.” Pomni replied. 

The sun set from within the treeline, coloring the horizon a bright tangerine. Pomni walked up the path to the Shutnyk estate, a weighty book under her arm. It was a collection of fairy tales, complete with color plates. Pomni typically preferred her fiction with a touch more verisimilitude, but she had already gone through her father’s library and most of the library in town, so she needed to wait for her favorite authors to actually produce new material. This would satiate her for a time. 

Pomni wore a plain white dress and matching white shoes. She also wore her favorite straw sunhat with the black hatband, although it had been rather overcast today. Not that she minded. She did burn rather easily due to her Telychian blood. 

She continued up the hill past the Rooker estate. She would have stopped to say hello to Mr. Kinger on any other day, but it was getting late, and summer was on the horizon. Mosquitos and other biting insects would surely be emboldened by the evening dark and emerge from the trees soon. 

She saw the manor up the dirt path, second on the right, just after the Rooker house. In the dim light, she could see her mother’s immaculately maintained flower gardens in front of the delicate pink walls of the manor. It was just becoming summer, so the gardens were lush with hot pink roses and silky white gardenias. Pomni had thought about taking up gardening as a hobby, but she found the entire affair tedious. At least with books, you wouldn’t have to wait six months to read them. 

She took her key from her pocketbook and unlocked the manor door, skirting inside and closing it behind her to keep the bugs away. 

“Pomni, is that you?” her father called from the dining room. 

“Yes it is, good evening, Father.” she called back, locking the door behind her and hanging her handbag and sunhat on the foyer hooks. 

“Come and join us, supper is ready,” said Vladimir.

“Just a moment, I haven’t gotten out of my shoes…” Pomni sat on the floor and slid off her shoes, placing them neatly on the shoe rack and peeling off her socks, dropping them down the laundry chute. She set her book down at the foot of the stairs and she briskly walked into the dining room. 

“Good evening, darling, so good to see you!” Mirella said from her spot at the table. Pomni returned her salutation, looking at the plate set out for her. Honey-glazed garlic salmon, her favorite. Usually she only had this for her birthday or to celebrate the start of fishing season.

“Oh, goodness. Thank you, what’s the occasion?”

“No occasion, dear, we just had Zooble cook your favorite tonight. Come, sit, enjoy it!” Vladimir said, motioning her to come and sit at the dining room table.

Zooble stood in the corner of the room in their usual tuxedo, nodding wordlessly at Pomni. Zooble was a shape-person, their head a magenta sideways triangle with no visible mouth and mismatched limbs. Shapefolk originated from a harsh desert kingdom known as Dovicia, found across the southern sea. While they had a much different diet and anatomy from humans, no one shape-person was built the same way, humans and shapefolk had been close allies for centuries. Humans offered them much needed resources that couldn’t be found in the beastly Dovician desert, and the shapefolk in turn offered manpower, often moving into more temperate areas to escape the extreme temperatures. Zooble had been the caretaker of the manor for 3 years, ever since the previous caretaker, Lidio, retired to Blackshell Bay at the age of 70. So far, Pomni liked them a lot, even if she never enjoyed change that much. Zooble didn’t allow her mother and father to walk all over them like Lidio did. Sometimes her parents needed someone to tell them “no” that wasn’t her.

Pomni cut into her salmon filet and sampled it, giving a contented hum. “It’s delicious, Zooble. My compliments.” 

Zooble nodded. “Only doing what I’m paid for, Miss.” Their tone struck Pomni as oddly somber, but she ignored it.

“So how are you feeling, darling? Did you have a pleasant day?” Marella asked.

Pomni took a moment to chew and swallow, looking down at her food. “Yes, mother. I went for my usual constitutional in the park, and-”

“Eyes up, Pomni,” her father said. “Talk to your mother, not your dinner.””

Pomni bit her lip. She was a grown woman, and her parents still reprimanding her for her struggles with eye contact always touched a nerve. Maybe in grade school, but… 

She looked up at her mother. Even looking into Marella’s brown eyes made her feel itchy, prickles of heat running up her arms and down to her toes.

“-and I got a book from the library. I finished the last one.” 

As soon as she finished speaking, she put her eyes back onto her food, scratching her left foot with her right. 

“Molto bene, darling. Well, your father has some exciting news.” 

Marella looked over at her husband, who idly swirled the red wine in his glass. Vladimir glanced at his wife before clearing his throat and setting the glass down.

“Er- yes. A former client of mine has fallen into dire straits. You remember the Krolik family?”

Pomni thought for a moment as she chewed her food. She swallowed, had a sip of water and then spoke. 

“Yes. Yes, they had the embezzlement case. Their business partner, their name was… Dombrowski Worldwide, was charging a non-existent handling fee for their grain shipments and then pocketing it. They took around 60,000 crowns, and the Krolik-”

“Yes dear, exactly right! Your memory is astounding as always.” Vladimir said, the pride palpable in his voice. 

“What about them, father?” Pomni asked, working on cutting herself another piece of fish. 

“Well, as you know, we won the case. But unfortunately, the judicial expenses left the Krolik family in something of a financial rut. Even with all the Krolik siblings working on the family business, they haven’t quite been able to scrape themselves out of debt.”

“I see. How is that good news?” Pomni replied.

Zooble let out a louder than normal cough. 

“Well…” Vladimir took in a lengthy breath. “Their fourth son, er, Jax, is 22 and unmarried.” 

“Oh, I see. So he’s marrying into a wealthy family. That is good news!” Pomni replied. 

“Y-Yes, he does intend on marrying into a wealthy family. A-As a matter of fact-“

“Master Shutnyk,” Zooble suddenly spoke up. “Please. The longer you prolong the issue-”

“I don’t believe I requested your input, Zooble.” Vladimir said. The authority in his voice bordered on draconian. He never spoke to their caretaker like that, even during his foulest moods. 

“Apologies, sir.” Zooble said, bowing shortly. 

Pomni looked from Zooble to Vladimir. Her food sat momentarily forgotten in her cheek, before she chewed hastily and swallowed.

“Papa, is something the matter?” Pomni asked. She rarely referred to Vladimir as anything but “father” since she was twelve years old, only using “papa” when she was deeply anxious or in the midst of tears, be they of joy or sadness. 

“No, piccola, nothing is wrong at all.” Marella interjected. “This is all good news. Your father and I think you should marry that Krolik boy!”

Pomni put down her fork. She picked up her glass of water and quaffed the entire thing. 

“We have everything in order, you won’t have to worry about a thing! Your father spoke with the patriarch of the Krolik family- and what a fine man he is, larger than life, truly!- he’d be more than happy to have you wed his son. Oh, and you should meet his son! I’ve never met a more charismatic beastman! And-”

“Mirella!” Vladimir barked.

“I’m sorry but it’s true! He’s a gentleman, a real ambassador for his kind! And he’s only 22! You’ll love him, Pomni!”

Pomni prodded her filet with her fork. “I’ll… love him.” she echoed. Her eyes stared ahead, at nothing in particular. 

“I’m sure of it! He’s smart as a whip, just like you! He and all of his siblings. And goodness, he’s tall and handsome…”

Pomni picked up her plate and whipped it at the wall behind her. It soared through the air like a clay pigeon before shattering helplessly against the wall, Mirella yelping and Vladimir rising to his feet instinctively. Her half-eaten salmon adhered to the wall for a moment before peeling off and plopping onto the imported carpet, brown glaze stuck to both the wall and the carpet. 

Pomni turned to her parents, her blue eyes crystals of icelike fury. 

“What have I done wrong..?” she whispered. “What sin could I have committed that would motivate you to sell me off? Am I no better than a mare or a sow? Answer me! What was my transgression?!”

“Pomni, you’ve done nothing wrong…” Mirella began delicately. 

“Then I’ve always been nothing more than a commodity?!” Pomni cried. She looked to her father for aid. “Papa, what about your firm? Wasn’t I supposed to take over for you..? You always said I was so talented…”

“And you are, dear! You’re brilliant! But… clients would turn their nose up at a firm run by a woman. I’m sorry, but it’s the truth of our society. It’s why I want you to marry this man so you can-”

Pomni’s eyes lost the spark of fury in them, darkening with grief and betrayal. “…Papa.”

“So you can run the firm in my stead. You just need a man to serve as a figurehead. And believe me, Jax Krolik is charismatic enough to serve as a figurehead, I met with him only yesterday, and-”

“I haven’t! I don’t even know what this man- no, beastman looks like! How could you possibly think I’d be okay with you making such a rash decision behind my back? Are you really that heartless?!”

Pomni turned away from her parents once again. Zooble shook their head. 

“Fiends… heartless, deceitful fiends…” Pomni whispered. 

“Pomni, this was for your benefit.” Marella said stoically. “You’re 25. Time is running out for you. All the men who might have caught your attention are moving on to other women. Or even other men! We acted in your stead to make sure you had a fair shot at finding love, starting a family, being happy-”

“I am happy! Rather, I was happy until you thrust a knife into my back! Who are you to say what brings me joy and what doesn’t?!”

“I’m your mother, Pomni! And I was in your situation once! I was lucky enough that your father came along when he did-!”

“That’s enough from both of you!” Vladimir boomed. “Mirella, Pomni, sit back down.”

Mirella took her seat, but Pomni remained standing. 

“Pomni. Sit down.” 

“I won’t,” she said.

“We’ve already arranged a meeting with the Krolik family tomorrow afternoon.” Vladimir continued. “I assure you that once you meet Jax, your concerns will be assuaged. This wasn’t a decision made impetuously. Now, sit down, please.” 

Pomni’s lips quavered. She gradually slid back onto her chair.

“Good girl. Zooble, please clean that up before it stains the carpet. And the wall.” Vladimir motioned to the detritus on the carpet.

“Right away, Master Shutnyk.” Zooble said with another short bow. They hurriedly stepped out of the room, glancing at Pomni before going to get the dustpan. 

“We know how you feel, Pomni. It’s daunting to get married, but it’s part of a young woman’s life.” Mirella said. “And think about how much more you’ll have to do with a husband! An entire house all to yourself, new family to get to know… it’s an adventure! Besides, it trounces just going to town and back every day, wouldn’t you say?”

“No, mother. I don’t.” Pomni spat out the word “mother” like a poison. “I quite enjoy my time in town, thank you.”

“Well, now you can live in town! We’ve been to see their manor, and-”

“Well if you enjoy it so much, why don’t you live there in my stead? Clearly you’re infatuated with the man.” Pomni snapped.

“Pomni Shutnyk! You do NOT speak to your mother like that!” barked Vladimir. 

“I did not suffer the loss of three children to be disrespected by my only daughter!” Mirella exclaimed.

“If you’re going to treat me like this, then I wish I had died right along with them-”

Pomni put a hand to her mouth, immediately wishing she could reel the words back into her throat. Her mother’s face blanched, and Pomni felt tears well up in her eyes. 

“Pomni..!” her father gasped.

“I-I’m sorry…” Pomni managed to say. “I’m sorry, mother…” 

“You’ve said quite enough.” Vladimir asserted. “To your room, now. And you aren’t to come down until we tell you.”

Pomni, her pretty pale face damp with tears, rose from her chair and went into the foyer. Sniffling, she ascended the first step. She stopped, and turned, and hurriedly put her shoes on, sans her socks. She grabbed her pocketbook from the foyer hook. 

“Pomni?” her father’s voice came from the dining room. “Pomni, I instructed you to go to your room.”

She found her house key despite her blurred vision and unlocked the front door, easing it open. The sky was a dim orange and the trees mere black silhouettes, evening insects chirring. 

“Pomni!” her father called. There was the sound of a scraping chair. 

Pomni slipped through the door and shut it behind her, locking it behind her and pattering down the steps onto the dirt trail. She ran through the garden of the Shutnyk manor, wiping her eyes and nose and not looking back, even as she heard both of her parents shouting for her return. As far as she was concerned, it was no longer her home. 

Soon, she reached the main road, and turned left, hurrying further up the island and towards the church. 

#the amazing digital circus #arranged marriage au #funnybunny #jax x pomni #tadc pomni #tadc jax #oh no cringe #tadc zooble #pomni's family #rich people suck but it makes for good fiction #autistic pomni

[woundjob]

the data from the polls yesterday is fascinating! as i suspected, we are a very international fandom, with more than one instance of one person in a small european country tagging something along the lines of “I’m definitely the only one here,” and many many people outside of the English speaking world.

we’re also a majority white fandom, which i guessed and is of course very common, as fandom spaces are usually mostly white and also that matches my experience, but of the people that answered the poll 10% picked “other” and 66% picked white, meaning 24% of us consider ourselves people of color and/or mixed, and that’s not nothing when you consider that demographics on tumblr itself are largely white. of course I’d like the fandom to be a bit more diverse, and I’d definitely like to have more community, but 24% people of color is honestly not as bad as I’d originally expected.

there’s also definitely a point in here somewhere about where people are coming from, and the kind of diversity that brings to the table. the people in this fandom span all across the world, and many of the white people in, for example, Eastern Europe, are racialized white people. I’m not here to argue whether or not Turkish people are white lol, but my point is among the white people who answered both polls, there are loads of interesting people that don’t fit the American expectation of whiteness, and loads of people for whom class is determined in other ways.

So far, my thoughts on the findings are of two minds. Firstly, it’s disappointing but not surprising that white people are such a big majority here. Fantasy and video games both tend to be white dominated spaces, and we already know that tumblr/fandom spaces are mostly white in themselves. Also, myself and some mutuals of color have noted racism (or more harmless whiteness) we’ve experienced here. Second, and on the contrary, it’s pretty encouraging to see all types of people from all over the world. The white majority is obvious, but not as big as we thought, and also, the fandom spreads everywhere. That’s pretty cool! I think as a whole we could use more discussions on racism, especially since it’s such a huge theme in many of the elder scrolls games, and the white people in the fandom should also know to share in those discussions should we decide to have them, rather than muting this topics. A big part of liking a narrative very much is being able to critique it. Liking something blindly and being averse to any critique is what children do, not what people who are genuinely invested in a story do. I’d really love to see more discussions about important things like racism and xenophobia, both in the fandom and in the actual games.

Anyway this post has gone on for a long time now lol i hope you found this as interesting as i have!

#tesblr #the elder scrolls

[joshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh]

I've not spoken much here about not really having been enjoying Frieren that much since it started - it was definitely fine I just wasn't connecting with it quite how I hoped to, and were it not for the production I'd be off the ride already. But man I really do have to say that these past three, maybe 4 episodes? The Aura arc I guess you'd say. Has just kinda fucking sucked lol. Already rough from premise alone, let's introduce more human demons and clearly establish them as having culture and intelligence, and then we set them up as wanting to do peace talks or whatever before Frieren starts being super racist towards them and then the show bends over to justify her racism. Like yeah sure the demons are now textually evil so Frieren's in the right but by god painting sympathy towards a persecuted group and then turning around and saying "every member of this group is intrinsically evil" is like irrefutably shitty. Ideally the show would do something with the whole passage of time and winds of change thing and prove Frieren wrong but I'm not here to engage with hypotheticals so who even gives a fuck, what's in front of me is shitty.

But fine, move past that, we really shouldn't but let's do that. Now the entire basis upon which this arc operates is us the viewer knowing Frieren is A) right and B) stronger than God, so we wait for the catharsis of her being proven right and killing Aura. Which is like 4 episodes of setup by the way! And yeah I mean. She does those things. Stark and Fern get some genuinely exciting-to-look-at fights in the middle of this. Frieren confronts Aura at the end of one episode and then it takes 2 episodes to see that followed up on, most of the runtime of the latter episode being a flashback dedicated to teaching us about the fact that... Frieren suppresses her magic so demons underestimate her. Like a fucking shounen protagonist. I don't even wanna engage with this weird recontextualisation of Frieren's character that makes her substantially less interesting, instead I wanna say that Frieren suppressing her magic was established fucking forever ago and Frieren being like 1000 was established forever ago but the ultimate climax of this arc is just her saying those things to the villain and her being shocked but who gives a fuck? We already knew this. I'm not on Aura's side here like I'm not invested in her shock, and Frieren stating those things as if they're anything new to us just feels like a waste. Apparently hiding your power level is despicable for a mage but says who other than demons who I know are textually evil anyway right? For all this we don't even get a cool fight Frieren just tells Aura to kill herself and she does and we move on, that's where our 80 minutes of buildup and Aura's suspenseful prominence in the OP led to. All this arc did was waste my time and be racist man.

I just don't understand the hype whatsoever. What do Frieren fans see in this. Better yet, why aren't they mentioning any of this when selling the show to people. Frieren is a contemplative and nostalgic insight into the life of a near immortal being and an exploration of how her experience with the passage of time changes her and how the people around her react to her, as well as a thematic exploration of the impact we have after death and how people remember us. That's what people will tell you Frieren is. They won't tell you it's a shounen action series where characters suppress their power levels and where the main character gets her skirt flipped up by a kid or they make small dick jokes about a main character. Like do Frieren fans talk about this amongst themselves? Like they've gotta acknowledge it right, there's no way they just don't even talk about what the series actually is. There's no way they're so insecure about liking a fantasy action series that they try prop it up as this commentary on the human condition just to hide the scene where Stark says he looks like he pissed himself. I'll admit this last paragraph is just me being angry at "oh anime fans" and isn't really building off my more legitimate criticisms from the prior paragraphs, but idk man Frieren's just so not what I expected and even though I think I'm doing a good enough job engaging with it on its own level it's still managing to disappoint me. I really am just here for the production whoring at this point. Style over substance to the maximum.

#Frieren #11.11.23 #2am btw lol

[littlemourningstarr]

Headspin

Meeting other drow, being propositioned to work at a brothel, and running into vampires feels like just a normal day for Sekh, at this point. But what feels exceptional is Astarion admitting he misses him, every aspect and inch.

Read below or on AO3!

Pairing: Astarion x Transmasc tav

Part of the Eternally Yours series!

Tags: Transmasc tav, fantasy racism, soft Astarion, fluff, bath scene, edging, masturbation, vaginal fingering, blow jobs, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, dirty talk, cum play

Sekh stared at what seemed like just a quaint little building, as his companions around him bickered over if they were willing to go in.

Gods it was just a brothel.

“Absolutely not,” Wyll said.

“Scared of a little temptation?” Karlach asked, raising her brows and elbowing him. Wyll tried to push her off, but Gale echoed Wyll’s sentiment of having no desire to go in.

“We’re not going in for fun,” Sekh pointed out, only to have Astarion fold his arms and frown, as if he disagreed. Sekh chose to ignore him. “Look, we don’t all need to go in. We just need to find Valeria- it can’t be that hard. Besides-” Sekh cast a glance past the group at Yenna, who was looking around her in awe- as if she had never gotten this far into Wyrm’s Crossing, “I’m not bringing a child in there. I’ll go in-”

“And me,” Astarion pointed out, and Sekh just sighed.

“-And Astarion,” he added. “The rest of you can give the rest of the crossing a look- see how bad the bridge is into Wyrm’s Rock.” Sekh really didn’t want to relive the mess of getting past the last gate. Thank the gods they had helped those Iron Hand Gnomes, back at Moonrise. He wasn’t interested in his first real night in the city being spent in a jail cell.

Gale and Wyll seemed more than happy with this- but Karlach and Shadowheart both frowned, speaking over each other that maybe they had wanted to go in. Shockingly, Halsin seemed to not care- but he was quite distracted with Yenna, and Sekh was glad for that.

Lae’zel just looked bored.

“Okay, fine,” Sekh said, as Shadowheart and Karlach continued to argue the decision. He was going to get a headache already and the day had barely begun. “You two come with us.” Karlach looked about to burst with excitement, and Shadowheart grinned, looking like a predatory cat.

Oh gods he was going to regret this, wasn’t he?

Decision finally made, the four headed into Sharess’s Caress. It was lively inside, despite that it was early- the entrance room framed with a bar that boasted plenty of patrons already. Music could be heard from a neighboring room. Sekh had barely gotten to register anything beyond that, when a woman greeted them from a little desk, facing the door.

She clapped her hands together once, nearly cooing when her eyes caught sight of Sekh. “Oh, another drow. How lovely. Come here darling- what’s your pleasure?” Sekh turned to her, took in the wild blonde hair piled atop her head, her face older but attractive, lips painted the most vibrant red. Her dress cut so far up her thigh he could see the crease of flesh from her pelvis. “No no, let me guess.”

Sekh folded his arms, cocked a hip- intrigued. She studied him for a moment longer, before she snapped her fingers, a grin finding her face.

“I’ve got it- a sturdy dwarf, a leather whip- she gives, you receive.”

Sekh laughed, felt a bit of color rising on his cheeks. “Not my first choice,” he said, and she frowned, even as Karlach asked if she could take her up on that option. “But apparently my friend here might be interested.”

And, okay, there wasn’t really time- but if Karlach wanted to pay some coin for a little fun, Sekh wasn’t going to stop her. She deserved it, after so many years of forced celibacy.

He would have gone utterly mad.

The woman’s frown deepened, creasing her brow. “Unfortunately Ffion has gone missing, or I’d send you right up to her room- Elminster’s Library.”

Astarion barked a laugh so hard and loud he had to cover his mouth and turn away. Sekh heard him mutter oh I cannot wait to tell Gale.

This was going to be a long day, Sekh was sure.

“We do have options for other company, of course,” the woman said, now eyeing Karlach. “Drow twins, just through the curtains. There is nothing their skilled hands cannot fix.” She turned just her eyes back to Sekh. “Drow do quite well here, sweetling. If you might be interested in some work, you have a look that I know our customers would eat right up.”

Sekh fumbled for words for a moment- but a moment was enough time for Astarion to curl an arm around his waist, nearly draping himself against Sekh. “I don’t share him,” he said, and the look in his eyes was almost predatory.

Sekh suppressed a shiver.

The woman grinned then, offering a little chuckle. “Oh, now I see your type. I did have you all wrong. Still,” she waved them off, “I’m sure you bend the pretty little thing over and use him quite well.” She turned her attention completely back to Karlach, even as Shadowheart began laughing so hard she had to walk away. Astarion simply stared, eyes a little wide, completely caught off guard by the woman’s brass response.

Sekh chuckled himself, managed to say, “Oh I like her.” Astarion frowned, pulled away so he could face Sekh properly. “She has some nice ideas.”

He couldn’t keep the heat from his voice, or the way he knew his eyes were devouring Astarion. But the prospect of watching Astarion fall apart, of having his fingers inside him-

Well, Sekh quite liked it.

Astarion cleared his throat, glanced away- but Sekh could see just the faintest flush, to his eyes. He took the single step to him, leaned in and placed a very soft kiss to his cheek. “If you’re ever ready, know that I’m willing.”

Astarion moved to speak- but whatever he said disappeared in the excitement as Karlach was suddenly off, into the depths of the brothel. Lost to them, Sekh figured. Well, good for her.

They headed further in, turning into a curtained room where the music grew louder. The room had a liveliness to it, a few patrons enjoying their drinks, watching not only the music, but a gorgeous tiefling woman draped in jewels, dancing along a stage.

She was breathtaking.

Sekh elbowed Shadowheart, who followed his stare, her eyes going a bit wide, locking on the woman and not once leaving her. Astarion noticed their distraction, seemed content to watch as well for a moment.

Sekh forced himself to look away, noticed that across the room were a pair of drow. He said something to his companions, but it seemed to fall on deaf ears, as he turned and walked towards them.

“My, my,” the woman said, her eyes trailing down the length of Skeh’s body in a slow, lazy pace that seemed obscene and yet wonderful. “Aren’t you a special one- I can tell from just a glance.” Her smile was controlled but still petty. The man next to her folded his arms, gave Sekh an even longer once-over.

Sekh felt his pulse pick up. Still, he was more excited to see other drow. He hadn’t expected any in the city. “I didn’t expect to see other drow here.”

The woman smiled, and offered out her hand. “Nym,” she said, and Sekh took it, pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. Her smile grew, her eyes dancing in amusement. “And my brother, Sorn.”

“Pleasure,” the man said, stepping closer, taking Sekh’s free hand, and flipping it, pressing his mouth to his wrist. He glanced up at Sekh, could easily feel the momentary spike in his pulse.

“The feeling is mutual,” Nym said, “I can’t say we’ve seen many other drow lately. Just an endless line of surface dwellers.” She didn’t seem bothered by the fact- Sekh’s look must have given away a hint of concern, because she waved him off. “Your look is sweet, honey. Trust me- we’re much happier here, kissing the man lips of the surface, than tending a shop or- gods, manning a farm back in the Underdark.” She shuddered, and the man, Sorn, laughed.

“It’s very true, everyone is always so intrigued by us.”

“Life is easy, here.”

Sekh smiled, his concern melting away. If they wanted to use the surface’s curiosity about drow to their advantage- let them. He didn’t blame them. He couldn’t even say he hadn’t done it himself.

“Well, we are immaculate,” he teased, “how could they resist us?” That got him a round of laughter from both, and Sorn was reaching for him, taking his hand.

“You are a pretty thing,” he mused, “if you were interested, I would love to see how wicked you could be. Or,” he nodded towards Nym, “you can be as sweet as you like, with my sister.”

Well, that explained their resemblance. It didn’t even register as strange, to Sekh. He’d seen plenty, growing up. Heard far more than he should have, about his father’s work.

“I’m flattered,” Sekh said, “but I do have a…” he paused, settled on, “partner.”

“Oh?” Nym looked intrigued. “Four can be quite a party.”

And wasn’t that just a novel, lucious idea. Sekh had to admit to himself it was so tempting- to get to see Astarion fall apart, under another’s hands. He didn’t feel threatened by it in the slightest- Astarion was his, when the day ended.

And he was Astarion’s.

But… “I don’t think now is a good time for that,” he said, and Sorn actually frowned, said, what a pity. Sekh hadn’t even bedded Astarion properly since before they had reached the shadow cursed lands- he couldn’t fathom asking the vampire if he’d be alright sleeping with strangers, when he wasn’t even sure Astarion was comfortable with him, again.

Although, the man had welcomed Sekh’s presence, yesterday morning- in his tent, when Sekh had found him. He’d wanted Sekh’s touch, asked for it.

Maybe he’d want all of Sekh again, soon. Or maybe he wouldn’t- whatever the case, Sekh would accept it. He might have quite the fondness for sex, but his affection towards Astarion went well beyond that.

As if his thoughts could summon the vampire, Sekh was startled to suddenly feel his hand, on his lower back, as he leaned in slightly, taking in the other two drow. And making a very quick decision on what he seemed to think was going on.

“I’m sorry pet,” he said, and Sekh thought his eyes looked sad, “I’m not quite ready for this yet.”

“I wasn’t even thinking-” Sekh stared, a moment of terror taking hold. He didn’t want Astarion to think Sekh was willing to look elsewhere for release, if Astarion wasn’t ready. He didn’t want him to feel threatened, feel like he might owe Sekh sex-

“He already turned us down,” Nym said, smiling at them both. Her smile seemed real now, relaxed. “Quite the charming man you have- and quite the devoted one, to turn down the both of us for you. Although,” she took Astarion in, a quick glance that felt almost polite, despite what it was. “I can certainly see why.” She turned back to Sekh, “if you ever change your mind, come find us here. We’ll be happy to spend some time with you both. Or,” she paused for a moment, and her smile grew, “if you just want some company. We know the surface can be strange for drow.”

Sekh relaxed. He’d like that, honestly. Both options, if he was honest- but the sex could wait, indefinitely if Astarion said so.

Having another friend though? That was very welcome.

*

They found Valeria already half a bottle of wine deep, and unwilling to listen to them, even when presented with a murder weapon. The damn dried blood was still caked on the vile looking dagger. But it wasn’t enough for her.

Sekh had been very tempted to try and scare the damn thing into listening- but he hadn’t wanted to cause a scene in the brothel. He wasn’t trying to be permanently banned on his first visit. With mounting frustration, he left Sharess’s Caress, Astarion by his side. Shadowheart had stayed behind to wait for Karlach, and promised to find them shortly.

“The murders have something to do with all of this,” Sekh said, tapping on his forehead. As if on queue, his tadpole squirmed, and he grimaced. Gods he hated that feeling. “I just don’t know what yet- and it’s not like that stupid hollyphant would listen to reason anyway.”

He was scowling without meaning to. Astarion chuckled slightly, arms folded. “You’re a moment away from pouting, my sweet. I’m sure we’ll figure it out.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t let the drunkard get to you.”

Sekh sighed, but tried to relax. Astarion had a point- they would figure it out, because that was what they did. What they had been doing, since the Nautiloid. What they would continue to do.

Frankly, he just didn’t care for hollyphants. Asskissers to the divine, mostly. But he kept that to himself.

“Listen, about the drow,” Sekh said, feeling like they had brushed that off far too quickly- they had left and immediately gone back to business. “I wasn’t… I don’t want you to think I was looking elsewhere.”

Astarion shifted a little, and while he tried to appear cocky, with his shoulders squared and his chin lifted- Sekh could see through it. There was a muted panic, in his eyes. “You can look all you want, but I don’t see why you’d ever need to.”

Astarion didn’t believe his own bluster. It made Sekh’s chest cramp. He reached for the man, settled a hand on the curve of his waist, stepping so close he could smell the bergamot on Astarion’s skin.

“You’re right, I don’t need to.” Sekh inclined his head a little, made sure to keep Astarion’s stare- wouldn’t let the man look away. “You’re everything I’ll ever need, Starshine.”

Astarion let out the smallest of breaths, his stare wavering. He cleared his throat after a moment. “Don’t be so nice to me.” His voice was laced with mock annoyance, as if he wasn’t even trying to make it convincing. “It makes me want to be nice back.”

Sekh laughed then. “Oh what a shame. I guess you’ll just have to be nice to me.” He leaned in, pecked Astarion’s cheek- but before he could pull back, the vampire was reaching up, grasping his chin, holding him steady as he turned and stole a far deeper kiss.

Sekh sighed into it, eyes fluttering shut, utterly undone in a single breath. He’d gladly kiss Astarion until the sun burnt out. He’d kiss him into the endless darkness that followed.

“If I’m everything to you, darling,” Astarion whispered, “you should kiss me like I am.”

He was still so close, Sekh could feel his breath, with each word. “I don’t want to overstep,” Sekh admitted, and Astarion frowned, pulled back much to Sekh’s dismay. The vampire sighed, bowed his head, rested his forehead on Sekh’s shoulder.

“I’m sick of waiting,” Astarion mumbled, his hands moving to Sekh’s waist, squeezing affectionately. “I miss you.” Those hands slid to his hips, pulled Sekh against him- and the drow shivered. “I want you.”

Sekh forced himself to take a single, deep breath. He forced himself not to shove the vampire to the ground right there and climb into his lap, create a spectacle for all of Wyrm’s Crossing.

But gods was it difficult.

“And every bloody night i think I’m finally going to get you,” Astarion added, “someone else takes you.”

Sekh frowned. Yes, Shadowheart had interrupted what might have been their first night together in so long- but Astarion hadn’t hinted at his desire the previous night-

Oh.

Sekh forced Astarion to straighten up. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t think… Yenna seemed so nervous alone, and nearly jumped on the chance to have some company. I wouldn’t have-”

“You would have,” Astarion corrected, “even if you knew. Because you’re… sweet.” There was something then, in Astarion’s eyes. Something that didn’t feel right. Sekh wasn’t sure what it was, a sadness, an anger- he couldn’t decipher it, and before he could ask, Astarion was pulling back, turning Sekh away from him and the brothel, towards another building. “We’re never going to get anywhere just standing here making a spectacle,” he said, and Sekh didn’t argue-

But he filed away his questions, refusing to forget whatever had crossed Astarion’s eyes.

*

The building they entered next Astarion recognized, quite well. He told Sekh he’d found so many victims for Cazador here. There was a look of remorse, on his face, as he admitted it.

Sekh only took his hand, laced their fingers together, and squeezed. There wasn’t anything to say- what was done was done. But Astarion had never had a choice. He wasn’t guiltless, per say, but he need not carry the weight of it on his shoulders.

That fell to Cazador himself.

They began up the stairs. Sekh wasn’t exactly sure what they were looking for- but if this had been a haunt of Astarion’s, he felt they should give it a proper look through. They still knew nothing about the ritual aside from what its end goal was- and if they wanted to stop it, they needed details.

At the top of the stairs they heard voices, from an open room to the left. Sekh watched Astarion tense, then- as if in recognition. Before Sekh could ask, Astarion raised a hand, holding up a finger to silence him.

“Soon, sister. I just need one more mark.” A man’s voice. Astarion bristled at it- one he knew, Sekh was sure.

“We have enough for the master- no more are needed.”

“This will be for me, not the master. I’ve spent one hundred years feeding on dogs and rats. I want to be able to feast. And so, so soon.” His words dripped with hunger, one that Sekh recognized, from Astarion.

These had to be his kin.

“I want someone ready, waiting, so that when the Master grants my freedom, I can drink. Them. Dry.”

Astairon moved then, briskly barging into the room. Sekh had to hurry to keep up. “Cazador promised you your freedom?” He was nearly yelling the words, pausing only a step from the two. Sekh paused at his shoulder, taking them in- red eyes like Astarion, only glowing in a way that screamed magic. A noticeable tether to Cazador.

The two stared at Astarion, those red eyes going wide.

“And you bloody well believed him?” His expression changed to one of disgust, as he leveled his stare at the blond man. “You were never burdened with intelligence, Petras,” he spat his name like it was laced with poison, “but your load seems especially light, these days.”

The man was scowling at Astarion, the tips of his fangs visible. The woman had a much softer look directed at his vampling- but no less surprised. “Astarion?” She asked. Sekh liked her voice, even after only one word. “It cannot be…”

Astarion held his arms out, chin lifted- looking smug and regal. “That’s no way to welcome back a brother, Dal.” He paused, and then added, “Didn’t you miss me?”

It was meant to sound cocky, but something about it was sincere. Something about Astarion wanted her to miss him. Sekh had presumed things had never been great with Astarion and the other spawn, but if there was one, just one, who might have cared just a little- well, Sekh might consider setting aside his distaste for the divine to pray for that.

He wanted Astarion to have someone, in every aspect of his life. He wanted his world to be full of someones.

“We thought you were dead.” She spoke as if that would have been the favorable option, to being here. “If not, if you were free- why come back? You got out.” She lifted her hand, as if to reach for Astarion, but Petras reached over, pushed her hand away. Sekh felt his lip twitch over the action.

“Isn’t it obvious, sister? He wants to ascend with the rest of us. He heard of the Master’s plan and came back with his tail between his legs, hoping everything would be forgiven.” The sneer on the man’s- Petra’s- face was ugly. He turned his stare to Sekh, gave him a look that was not only undressing him, but pulling his skin from his bones. “He even brought a gift to get back in the Master’s good graces. You’re too late, brother, the Master has all he needs. But I,” Petras dared to take a step forward, eyes still honed in on Sekh, ignoring Astarion as if he was nothing, had never been and could never be a threat. “Don’t. I don’t think drow would have been my type, but I’m willing to lower my standards.”

Sekh fisted one hand, felt it crackling with a chill of necrotic magic. He was deeply considering knocking the man flat on his ass, but Astarion acted faster. He reached for Petras, wrapped his hand around the man’s throat, and hauled him across the room, into the light of the sun, streaming in through a window.

The moment the light touched Petras, his skin glistened, began to turn a molten silver, flaking away. He gave a shout, mouth turning into a pained grimace- while Astarion stood, utterly untouched.

“Keep your eyes and your pathetic fucking mouth away from him,” he hissed, bared his fangs fully. They looked so much longer than Petras’s. “He’s mine.” He squeezed, choking the unneeded breath from the other vampire. “Now, where is he hiding?” Petras reached up, clutched at Astarion’s wrist, but didn’t have the strength to even threaten his grip. It was iron, unmovable. “Tell me!”

The woman, Dal, moved halfway across the room, past Sekh. She paused just out of reach of the light. “Brother, please! Astarion!”

Astarion glanced at her, when she said his name. Yet he remained firm. Sekh folded his arms, offering up his best glare, directed at Petras.

“Talk or burn. Your choice.” The vampire glanced at him, and there was something so pleasing about seeing his initial confidence replaced by fear. It didn’t take much thought to see Astarion had never gotten on well with this one.

“You heard him. Tell me what I need to know. Now.”

“The Master is preparing his black mass beneath his palace.” Dal, speaking quickly, looking at Astarion with a fear that felt new. “The entrance to a chapel is hidden in the palace- he hid it from us all. We never knew.”

Astarion smirked, turned so his body shielded Petras from the sun, and shoved him. The man stumbled away, safely out of the sun’s reach, panting in pain. Astarion stood firm, letting the sunlight halo him.

“I’m going to stop Cazador.” The way he bared his fangs while saying Cazador’s name was as if he were ready to bury them into his throat.

“What the hells happened to you, Astarion?” Petras reached up, touched his burnt face. It was already beginning to slowly knit itself back together. “What are you?”

Spoken as if Astarion was a god, an abomination, something to be terrified of, in darkness and sunlight. Sekh bristled with pride.

“I’m more than what I was.And I’m not afraid of anything anymore.”

It was a lie. Sekh didn’t believe either of the other vampires caught it- but there was a tick to Astarion’s mouth, a glint in his eyes- he didn’t believe the last bit. At least, not yet.

“No one else can stop him. The sun can’t harm me- he cannot compel me.” He lifted his hand, letting the sun hit it directly, as if him standing, silhouetted by the sun wasn’t enough. He turned his head, beckoned towards Sekh with his fingers, and the drow walked over, took the hand in front of the others, kissed his knuckles while holding Petras’s stare. “And I’m not alone any longer.”

Petras stared, still in shock, jaw going slack- but Dal, she was studying them. Her alarm seemed to have ebbed, now that Petras wasn’t in direct peril. She was looking at Sekh, as if she was trying to read him, determine the thoughts bouncing around in his skull.

Determine if he was genuine.

Sekh lifted his chin- he didn’t need to prove himself to her, yet something in him reared to ugly life at his adoration for Astarion being challenged. “You should go,” he said, not looking at Petras- keeping Dal’s stare completely.

Astarion didn’t seem to notice. “You heard him- before I change my mind on roasting you, brother.” The last word was spat, foul tasting.

Dal tore her eyes away from Sekh, turned her stare back to Astarion. “This isn’t over, Astarion.” In a moment, they were gone in a flourish of red mist- leaving the room oddly silent. 

Sekh turned to Astarion, who had a mingling of pity and disgust on his face. “They actually believe Cazador will save them,” he muttered, “poor fools. I’d expect this from Petras- but not Dal.” He turned his gaze back to Sekh, who wanted to ask about the both of them, wanted Astraion to tell him more about his kin-

But it wasn’t the time. “They’ll warn him we’re coming,” Sekh pointed out. While the information they had received was valuable, it also ruined the one advantage they had going for them. Surprise.

“And they’ll be trembling like terrified babes while they do.” Astarion waved the concern off. “They’re no threat to us- they don’t have a choice but to obey him. If anything I…I pity them.” For a moment, the disgust was gone, only the sadness remaining in Astarion’s voice. They faced the same forced fate he had for two centuries, after all.

But Sekh knew they could save them, if they only stopped the ritual.

“Worst of all, they don’t know their fates are already sealed. They’re doomed- it’s just a matter of if their deaths benefit a monster like Cazador, or,” he paused for a moment, a smile growing on his face-

Not a pretty one. It twisted his lips in a malicious way, the very air around Astarion seeming chilled.

“If they serve a greater purpose.” Sekh felt his blood running cold, a stabbing ache in his chest growing. Dread. “We find Cazador and take this power for ourselves. The rite can be mine.”

Sekh had hoped, considered praying, that perhaps Astarion’s initial mention of considering the rite for himself would have passed, faded into memory. He realized now he was so, so wrong.

“They’re your brothers, your sisters,” Sekh pointed out, “your family.”

“Not by choice!” Astarion snapped, reaching out, jabbing a finger into Sekh’s chest. “None of this is by choice! They’re the lot Cazador thrust on me.”

“They didn’t have a choice in the matter either,” Sekh pointed out, reaching up and gently pulling Astarion’s hand from him. “Astarion, are you ready to sacrifice them for this? To what end? What would you gain?”

“I’d rather slaughter someone else’s family, true- but they’re just as guilty as I ever was. Were any of them in my position, they would take the rite within a heartbeat.”

“But they’re not,” Sekh pointed out, “Astarion, only you can make this decision. But you have to know the consequences…”

“The consequences of unlimited power? Of never being afraid again?” The vampire laughed. It lacked the almost silly quality that Sekh loved so much. It rang hollow. The vampire reached for him, gripped his waist and pulled him in. For a moment, Sekh pulled back, just a fraction- Astarion didn’t even notice. “You’re not getting sentimental on me, are you? Your bleeding heart will be the death of us.”

His voice almost didn’t sound like himself. Sekh felt a cold sweat on his spine.

“I thought you were with me on this. I thought you wanted what was best for me?”

Sekh sucked at his own tongue. He did- he wanted Astarion to be safe, happy, loved. And none of that felt like it would stem from this ritual.

Nothing good ever stemmed from power like the divine. A man becoming a god would always undo him. And the last thing Sekh wanted to see was Astarion destroy himself, and the future he had.

“Can we just go?” Sekh asked, hoping that getting Astarion away from the ghost of his siblings might help dispel some of whatever had come over him. Hoping distance might bring back the man who had kissed him moments ago, had made him feel light. The man he loved.

Loved.

“Of course love,” Astarion said, relaxing a little. “It stinks of rat blood and dispair in here anyway.” He let go of Sekh’s waist, but Sekh took his hand again, gripping it perhaps too tightly.

Holding on, fearing if he let go, he’d lose the Astarion he had come to know.

*

The rest of the day was spent exploring the Flophouse- which proved fruitful, shockingly- and then arguing with the hollyphant over a possible target list they’d found. When she eventually caved and told them to seek out her comrade, it gave them exactly what they needed to get into the city properly.

A pass.

A pass that came with a face to face with Gortash, which ruined whatever fine mood Karlach had gotten from her time at Sharess’s Caress. Yet despite the ugliness, as evening was flooding the city with an orange glow from the setting sun, they finally set foot into Baldur’s Gate.

Sekh glanced around him, the streets bustling with so much life, despite the ever looming threat of the Absolute’s Army. Seemed no matter how close the end of days were, folks would always find time for their nightly activities.

He chose to stay in step behind Karlach and Wyll, who knew the city better than him. He’d expected Astarion to be leading them, but a few paces from the gate he noticed the vampire was nowhere in the group. He paused, glanced around, turned fully-

And found Astarion hadn’t moved from the entrance, was simply looking around, frozen in time.

Sekh left the group, hurrying back, reaching out to place a hand gently on his arm. “Are you alright?” Astarion glanced at him, his eyes looking almost dreamlike.

“After two centuries… you forget how much color there is.” His voice wavered, and Sekh hurt over it. Astarion hadn’t seen his city, his home, in true daylight for almost two hundred years.

Of course he was awestruck.

He was going to wait with him in silence as long as Astarion needed, but suddenly there were hands on his robes, Yenna leaning in, looking between the both of them. Her own eyes sparkled with wonder. “It’s so busy here- there are so many people!”

Astarion snapped from his trance, glanced down at her- and frowned. Without a word he brushed past both Sekh and the girl, hurrying to catch up with the group.

Sekh frowned himself. He didn’t understand why Astarion seemed to have a problem with the girl. He had been fine around Arabella, and the tiefling children at Last Light had grown quite fond of him. What was so different about Yenna?

“Did I upset him?” she asked, looking up at Sekh. Sekh shook his head, offered his hand to her. She gladly took it, and he walked them back towards the group.

“No. This is Astarion’s home, but he hasn’t really seen it in a long time.” He didn’t want to divulge too much- it wasn’t his palace to tell Astarion’s story.

Yenna only nodded, walking in perfect stride with Sekh. They had a destination- The Elfsong- to find the Flaming Fist Valeria had referred them too. Sekh was hoping they might be able to grab some real dinner, as well, before figuring out where they were going to rest their bones for the evening.

“Are you two married?”

The question came after long minutes of silence, as the two were still paces away from the rest of the group. Sekh paused, stared down at Yenna- who looked up at him as if the question made perfect sense.

“You and…” She paused, obviously trying to pull Astarion’s name from memory. “Astarion,” she finally said.

“Why would you think that?”

Sekh’s heart was hammering, and it wouldn’t quell it. A future that he hadn’t dared jump to seemed to be blossoming behind his eyes-

Astarion hadn’t even put a name to what they were now.

“You look at him like no one else is around.” Yenna shrugged a shoulder. “I never knew my dad, but my mom liked to point to couples when they looked like you and tell me they were married. That they didn’t see the rest of us, only each other.”

Sekh cleared his throat, shoving his wild torrent of thoughts aside. He couldn’t think about this now. “No,” he finally said, “we’re not married.”

“But you love him?” Sekh turned his gaze from Yenna, looked at his companions as they grew further and further away. Looked at Astarion, who had buried whatever annoyance he’d had at Yenna, was laughing at a very flustered Gale. The setting sun dazzled his curls in goldens and vermillions, and Sekh could just make out the lines around his eyes, from smiling.

His heart was racing, his body warm- pleasantly so, beneath his skin.

He squeezed Yenna’s hand, and knowing this had been the answer for much longer than he should ever admit, said softly, “Yes. I love him.”

*

The Elfsong, it turned out, happened to be the answer to all of their problems. Not only did they get support that they were chasing the Bhaalist cult in the right direction- but they got a roof over their heads, for as long as they needed. Sekh had smiled sweetly at the owner and the man had been more than happy to give them the whole upper floor for a price that was far too cheap.

And to find Lakrissa and Alfira again- it was warming, to know they were safe.

The upper floor was spacious, beds lining the parameter, privacy screens placed for some discretion. Sekh felt like he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d slept in a bed.

But the best part had to be the prospect of a bath.

With evening in full swing, it seemed pointless to try and venture further into the city. They needed to rest. The Dead Three could wait until morning. The majority of the party happily headed back down into the pub, eager for a drink and a hot meal.

“Are you coming?” Yenna asked Sekh, as the drow shed his shortsword- still fractured, the tip now a ragged edge. He hoped he might get it fixed- that a blacksmith in the city could smooth the edges for him again. Until then, he’d carry it as is.

His mother would have done the same.

“In a bit,” Sekh said, “I need a bath.” He reached out, tussled the girl’s hair. “You probably do too.”

Yenna pouted, and it made Sekh laugh so hard his belly hurt. “I’ve just been in Wyrm’s Crossing. I think you stink more than I do.” She folded her arms, and Sekh had to urge to grab her and toss her around- throw her on the bed and smack her with a pillow.

He’d never had siblings- he had to wonder if it felt like this.

“I smell lovely,” Sekh said, leaning forward, voice dripping with a sass that had Yenna rolling her eyes. As he did so, Astarion walked over, dropping some of his armor that he had just pulled off on the floor, at the foot of a bed in the corner.

Where Sekh had dropped his shortsword.

“Lovely is a … choice word,” Astarion said in passing, and Yenna cackled. Sekh spun on his heel, staring at Astarion, who glanced over- gave him a teasing smirk.

“You ass,” Sekh said, reaching for him and pulling him closer. “I smell fine.” Astarion squirmed in his hold, but didn’t try to actually escape it. Sekh placed a kiss to his cheek, caught out of the corner of his eye Yenna beaming at them.

Astarion huffed, finally pushing Sekh off. “Perhaps I like how you smell anyway,” he muttered, before he caught sight of Yenna smiling at them. For a moment there was this looking of longing, of wonder in his eyes- like there had been, when they’d first stepped into the city.

And then it was gone, smothered quickly as he turned away, frowning so hard his brows creased. Sekh turned away, focusing back on Yenna as Karlach walked over, wanting to take the girl for herself so they could go have a right, proper dinner.

Sekh was glad for Karlach taking the girl- he wanted to make sure she ate, but he needed a moment to focus on Astarion. The man had shed his armor, had made it abundantly clear that he was claiming the bath first.

Everyone else was more interested in dinner and hadn’t argued.

Sekh took the last few steps to him, placed a hand gently on his lower back. Astarion didn’t even glance back at him- knew who was touching him without a look. Of course he did.

“Can I ask you something?” Sekh asked, quietly, and Astarion huffed.

“You just did.”

Sekh rolled his eyes, slid his arms around Astarion’s waist. The vampire covered his hands with one of his own, as they rested on his belly, Sekh placing his chin on his shoulder. “Funny. Why don’t you like Yenna?”

Astarion went tense in his hold, before he scoffed at him. “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t like her. It’s pretty apparent. You’re not a subtle man, Astarion.” Sekh gave him a gentle squeeze. “Do you just not like kids? I didn’t get that, from how you acted with Arabella and the tiefling kids.”

Astarion didn’t speak, for a long moment. Sekh began to wonder if the man was just going to ignore the question- but then, in barely a whisper, Astarion said, “No.” He pulled from Sekh’s hold, turned to face him-

And Sekh’s heart cracked. Astarion’s eyes looked lost. A sadness had fallen over his face that Sekh hadn’t seen in quite some time. Gods, he hadn’t meant to upset him.

“Children don’t belong around vampires,” he finally said, his voice seeming a bit strained, caught in his throat. “Nothing good will come of it.” Astarion glanced away then, his fingers fidgeting at his sides- as if he wanted to reach out to Sekh, but wouldn’t allow himself. “She’s best off far away from me.”

Sekh reached out then, took one of Astarion’s hands. It felt like his fingers were trembling, as Sekh squeezed them. “Astarion,” he said, and then, softer, “Starshine. You’re not going to hurt her.”

“I may not, but something will because of what I am. Trust me, children do not belong around us. We aren’t allowed the luxury of family.” The words were heated- a deep seated despair that hadn’t been breathed to life ever, if Sekh were to judge. The words were barely out of his mouth before Astarion was pinching his lips shut, pulling his hand from Sekh’s hold. He moved to turn, but Sekh reached for him, slipped his arms around his waist, pulled him into a tight hold, hands splayed on his back, pressed along the ridges of his scars that he could just feel through his shirt.

Astarion didn’t try to pull away this time. He melted against Sekh, pressed his face into the crook of his neck. “You’re allowed everything,” Sekh said, softly, “Astarion, I promise you- whatever you want, it's yours. Whatever that monster did to you, whatever he made you think you can’t have- he’s wrong.” Sekh squeezed him, wanted to gather the man up, cage him in his ribs and keep him safe, sheltered.

Astarion nuzzled against his neck, breathed him in. “You can’t promise that,” he whispered. “But I can, if-”

Sekh cut him off. He didn’t want to hear it- didn’t want Astarion’s mind going down that dark path now. “I can promise it. And I do.” He pulled one hand from Astarion’s back, forced him to lift his head, cradled his cheek against his palm, kept Astarion’s head steady so he was forced to gaze at Sekh. “I told you I’d take care of you. And I will. I meant that, I mean it to my damn dying breath, Astarion. You are everything.” The vampire turned his head just slightly, managed to press his mouth at the base of Sekh’s palm, kissed his warm skin.

The softness, the affection made Sekh’s chest ache. His fingers pressed harder to Astarion’s back.

“Astarion,” he breathed, “I…” The words caught in Sekh’s throat, then. Thick and cloying and true, but a part of him feared it was too much for this man. That he was running where Astarion was content to walk.

He settled on silence, which Astarion took as an invitation to lean in, press a kiss to his lips. Sekh kissed him back, slowly, hand finding his way into his hair. The vampire hummed, opened his mouth for the kiss- seemed content to let the conversation die in favor of this.

Sekh was happy to indulge, but swore to himself he would revisit this.

“Gods, can you two wait until we’re all gone at least?” Astarion paused his mouth’s movements, as Sekh glanced to the side- and Shadowheart was watching, a hand on her hip, the other pinching the bridge of her nose as if they were giving her a headache.

Sekh pulled back, just offered her a sheepish smile, and Astarion moved out of his embrace. The vampire gave Shadowheart a teasing smile, before he headed across the large, open room- heading for the bath, situated behind a few privacy screens. Shadowheart rolled her eyes, turning back to Sekh.

“Please tell me you both aren’t getting in together.”

Sekh choked. “There isn’t room,” he said, knowing Shadowheart knew that. “I just… thought maybe he might want some help with his hair…” He reached up, rubbed the back of his neck, and Shadowheart laughed at him. Sekh decided this was definitely what it was like to have siblings.

“You two would find a way. Don’t take too long, you need to eat.” Sekh only nodded, and Shadowheart left him, heading out herself. He shrugged out of his robes, leaving them tossed on the foot of his bed-

Astarion’s bed? Their bed? Astarion hadn’t said a word about it, he’d just dropped his own items on the same bed as Sekh and carried on.

Sekh found he was smiling, as he walked across the room, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up. He stepped around the privacy screen, found Astarion with his arms out along the wooden bath, head tipped back, looking utterly blissed out. He could see the steam from the water.

“Enjoying yourself?” Sekh asked, and Astarion didn’t even open his eyes, simply hummed an affirmation. Sekh got down on his knees, ran his hands along Astarion’s outstretched arms. “Need a hand?”

This time the vampire cracked his eyes open, glanced at Sekh. Those eyes teased, and Sekh laughed himself.

“I meant that as innocently as possible,” he admitted, and Astarion lifted his head properly, arms sliding from the bath into the hot water.

“How dull.” Still, Astarion smiled. “But if you want to be helpful, I wouldn’t say no.”

Sekh took the invitation, reaching for one of the bottled soaps, as Astarion dipped himself awkwardly under the water. He came back with his curls drenched, as Sekh lathered the soap onto his hands. Once the vampire was settled again, Sekh worked the suds into his curls, fingers scratching softly against Astarion’s scalp. The man sighed, eyelids fluttering shut, as Sekh seemed to work each individual curl as if they were made of glass.

When Sekh finally pulled his hands free, Astarion dipped under the water again, working his own hands through his curls to free them of the suds. Sekh took advantage to grab one of the tiny hunks of solid soap, and the moment Astarion was back out of the water, curls wet and flung into his face, Sekh was guiding him back, dragging the soap down along his chest.

Astarion arched slightly, head tipping back, resting against Sekh’s shoulder, hair soaking through the fabric instantly. Sekh didn’t care. He got his other arm around Astarion, pressed his hand flat to his chest as he worked the soap down along his abdomen, then back up, slowly covering each inch of him.

When Astarion tried to reach up, brush his hair from his face, the hand on his chest batted him away. Sekh pushed his wet hair back instead, watched Astarion’s eyes open, looking a bit hazy. The vampire bit his lip, one fang poking out between them, and Sekh wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh, kiss him sweetly-

Or ravish him until dawn.

He slid his now slick fingers and the soap back down along Astarion’s belly, past his navel, curving towards his hip. Astarion lifted his hips slightly, made a frustrated little noise. “Tease,” he breathed, and Sekh kissed his wet temple.

“I said I was going to help,” he said, “I never said I was going to do anything sordid, sweetheart.” Still he moved dangerously close to the base of Astarion’s cock, felt the man’s body shifting, trying to get to him.

He couldn’t help teasing just a bit.

His next movement dragged the soap to Astarion’s thigh, and then he was leaning over the tub, working it along his bent legs. Another huff from his vampire, but this time Astarion sat still.

Once Sekh had gotten both of his legs he straightened up on his knees, gently pushing at Astarion’s shoulder. “Let me get your back.”

For a moment, Sekh wondered if Astarion might refuse him. The vampire hadn’t shied away from his touch on his scars lately- but Sekh also understood that a layer of clothing could create enough of a barrier to allow for the touch.

But Astarion leaned forward without a word, Let Sekh cup the warm water in one hand and spill it over his back. He shivered, once, at the first touch of the soap against his scars- but it almost didn’t seem bad. After a moment, when he hadn’t pulled away, Sekh asked, “Okay?”

Astarion nodded, and when he spoke, his voice caught in his throat. “Okay.”

Sekh smiled, leaned in and kissed the back of his wet curls, soaping up his scarred skin until the soap had dissolved into nothing in his hands. Once it had, he cupped both his hands together, rinsing the suds away, noting that the water was beginning to cool.

He leaned back, was about to stand up, assuming Astarion wouldn’t want to remain if the water wasn’t scorching. But before he could Astarion had his back pressed to the lip of the wooden tub, was reaching up and back, grasping at Sekh’s shirt, pulling him forward.

The drow was forced to bow over him, as Astarion’s other hand tangled up in his hair, held him still as he pressed a feverish kiss to his lips. Sekh groaned, too shocked to move for the first few moments. It was only when Astarion’s tongue flicked the seam of his lips that he seemed to respond, opening so willingly for him, as water splashed up onto his shirt.

Sekh gasped around the kiss, Astarion’s tongue teasing the points of his teeth, pushing at the plush of his cheeks. He trembled, and Astarion pulled at his hair harder, broke the kiss to let Sekh pant against his wet lips. “I’m going to devour you,” he said, voice low, pulled from his chest.

Sekh bit his own lip, couldn’t even think to answer. His silence seemed to be all Astarion needed- because the man gave him a smirk, before he pushed him back.

Sekh stood, carefully- legs feeling numb from being on his knees, and before he could even turn to give Astarion privacy, the vampire stood up. He didn’t turn to face Sekh, but reached both hands into his own curls, squeezing the water back so it riveted down his back, between his scars.

The drow swallowed thickly, felt the juncture of his thighs throbbing. Astarion glanced back at him, over his shoulder. “You’re staring, darling.”

Sekh felt like he had forgotten every word he ever knew. And that seemed to be the response Astarion wanted from him. The vampire turned then, reached a hand out, beckoned him closer. Sekh took the two steps to the tub, and Astarion grasped his shoulder with one wet hand, used him for balance as he climbed out, before leaning back in, brushing his chest along Sekh’s.

“I’m going to get dressed,” he said, voice soft yet commanding. “I’m going to find something to drain dry- and when I come back, I’m going to pull you apart until you forget everything but. My. Name.” Astarion leaned in, breathed into Sekh’s ear, “You’re mine- and it’s been far too long since I proved that.”

Sekh shivered then, heart hammering so hard his chest ached. He swore he was seeing stars already, little tendrils of heat snaking from his cunt up his belly, taking hold and twisting.

Astarion stepped away, took one last long glance at his drow- and then crossed the room, completely naked, leaving Sekh in a soaked shirt wondering how he’d survive until the man returned.

*

Bathed, dressed in dry clothes, Sekh made his way downstairs, found the entire party scattered about- looking happy. There was only one absence- Astarion- but Sekh was almost glad for it. If his lover was gone, that meant he was already hunting- and the sooner he had left for his hunt, the sooner he’d be back.

Sekh made his way to a table most of the party had sequestered, was nearly pulled down onto a bench by Karlach. “Wondered if you were ever going to join us,” she teased, pushing a plate of food towards him. “We ordered enough for everyone. Don’t worry- no fish for you.”

Sekh grinned at that. “You’re a blessing,” he said. He knew he was hungry, but it was hard to focus on that need, when another was raging within him. Still- he rationalized he might need some energy tonight.

He must have blushed, because as he was biting into what might have been the best roll of his life, Karlach grinned and simply said, “So, are we all invited to the show, or are we locked out until you two are done?”

Sekh choked, and she laughed so loudly it could have shaken the very building, smacking his back once.

“Teasing!” she said, “relax- I think we all know you two need some quality time together. Fancy boy barely said a word when he came down, I thought he was going to run right through a wall to get outside if it would be the fastest route.” She tossed her arm around Sekh’s shoulder, giving him a one armed hug. “And don’t worry about your little counterpart. Auntie Karlach will keep an eye on her.”

Sekh breathed out a relieved sigh at that. Truth be told, he had been a little worried about Yenna. He was the one who had decided she could stay with them- she was his responsibility, in his eyes. Knowing Karlach would keep an eye on her so he could focus solely on Astarion was a godsend.

“I owe you my life,” he said, pushing the rest of the roll into his mouth. Across the table, Shadowheart caught his eye as she was speaking with Lae’zel- and without breaking conversation, poured him a cup of wine and pushed it across the table.

Karlach waved him off, as Sekh picked up his cup and took a drink. The wine was a mild white, not exactly to his taste, but also not strong enough to make him regret it. He just wanted a bit of courage.

He felt foolish, the excitement building in him like this would be his first night with Astarion. Like he was back at their old campsite, drunk tieflings about, counting down the seconds to when he could sneak off for their first tryst.

He had to smile to himself, thinking about where they were now, and how it felt like they had progressed lifetimes.

He was standing with Karlach and Wyll, when Astarion returned. He wasn’t facing the doorway, was across the pub, near the stairs- yet something warmed in him. He glanced at his hand, holding his wine cup- at his ring, and realized it was mildly warm, buzzing softly. He turned, thinking it had to mean something regarding Astarion-

And the vampire was already quickly crossing the room, heading directly for him- eyes boring a scarlet fire directly into his soul. His curls were wild and soft- having dried in the night air and not been styled. His cheeks had a hint of color- be it from feeding or a chill in the night wind, Sekh didn’t know.

All he knew was that his heart stopped, and then crashed back to life the moment Astarion reached him, cupped the back of his neck with one hand, and pulled him in for an unceremonious but so needed kiss.

Sekh fell into it, kissed Astarion back, matching the fervor the man was pouring into him. His free hand clutched at Astarion’s shirt, his knees feeling weak. Gods, he was so undone.

When Astarion broke the kiss, Sekh tried to chase him- but the vampire pulled back just too far. He took the cup from Sekh’s hand, blindly handing it to Karlach- who seemed too struck by the show to even offer her typical commentary. Then, grabbing Sekh by the wrist, he pulled him towards the stairs, nearly running up them.

As they were disappearing, Sekh heard Karlach announcing to Yenna that they were going for a little adventure. The last thing he heard of the world below was the girl’s ecstatic response-

And then the world was gone, as Astarion pulled him along the upper floor, throwing open the door to their sleeping quarters. It had barely closed when Sekh had his back pressed to it, his vampire boxing him in, greedily taking another kiss.

Sekh melted into it, hands finding Astarion’s waist, squeezing. He could still taste the ghost of blood in his mouth, as Astarion pushed his tongue past Sekh’s lips, kissed him so hard that Sekh swore his lips would bruise.

He rolled his hips forward, into Astarion, as the vampire splayed a hand on the door, the other finding Sekh’s neck, wrapping along it, thumb stroking his throat. The drow shivered, could feel the scrape of Astarion’s nail on his skin, before the hand was gone, and Astarion was suddenly hoisting him up. Sekh gasped, clutched at his shoulders, legs wrapping around his waist.

Astarion purred. “I like you like this,” he whispered, and Sekh squeezed his shoulder tighter. He was panting lightly from sheer need already- felt ridiculous over it, and yet couldn’t find the will to try and control or contain himself.

Astarion deserved to know how desperately he wanted him.

The vampire turned, actually began carrying him across the room. Sekh bowed over him, kissed his jawline. “You’re not this strong,” he teased, only to have the hands on his hips squeeze, nails digging into the fabric of his pants.

“Darling, I am divine.” Sekh nipped at his earlobe, got a little rumbled growl from Astarion’s chest. “With you, I can do anything.”

He reached their bed- it had to be theirs, didn’t it?- and tossed Sekh down onto it. Sekh fell without a care, arching on impact, as Astarion crawled over him, slotted between his legs and found his mouth for another kiss.

In the back of Sekh’s mind, the drow knew that if Astarion was this alive, this virile, his dinner hadn’t been animal blood. And yet, he didn’t care. He trusted Astarion enough to believe he wouldn’t have just slit open the first person he met’s throat.

If someone died, they deserved it. He just wished he had seen it.

He would never deny what seeing Astarion take what he needed did to him.

He rolled his hips up, could feel Astarion’s cock, straining within his pants. “I can feel you,” he managed, between kisses. Astarion grunted, ground against Sekh’s pelvis and nipped at his lip. Sekh reached for Astarion’s waist, began pulling at his shirt.

Astarion pushed away from him, got up on his knees and nearly tore his shirt off, tossing it to the floor. Sekh sat up then, still pinned beneath Astarion’s legs, hands working almost clumsily at his pants as he pressed his face into his neck, kissed at his pulse.

The vampire tipped his head back, sighing when Sekh finally got his pants unlaced, was able to free his cock. He was so hard already, skin hot in Sekh’s hands as he wrapped it around his shaft, stroked slowly. He dragged his teeth along Astarion’s throat, wanted to bite himself- wondered what sort of noises Astarion might make, if he could break his skin.

Astarion rocked his hips to meet each stroke, breathing coming quicker- before he was reaching for Sekh’s hand, desperately pushing it away. “Darling,” he managed, breathless, and Sekh grinned.

“Don’t want to come yet?” he asked, watched Astarion bite his lip. The vampire took a single breath, as if composing himself, before he climbed off of Sekh, stood up to properly shed his clothing.

“Not without you,” he finally said, and Sekh’s breath caught. “Now, you have ten seconds to remove your clothes, or I shred them myself, pet.”

Sekh thrashed, shoving his clothing down his legs, up over his shoulders. It took more than ten seconds, but Astarion managed to restrain himself.

Just barely.

Sekh was still tugging off his shirt, his last piece of clothing, getting it tangled around his arms over his head, when Astarion’s patience wore out. He climbed onto the bed, grasped the drow’s thighs and shoved them roughly open, groaning because Sekh was soaked- had been since before Astarion even left.

Sekh arched, arms still stuck over his head, and Astarion gave a wicked smile. “I could leave you like that,” he teased, as he stretched out between his legs, hips grinding into the bed the moment he was settled. “In fact,” he purred, his breath warm against Sekh’s cunt, making the drow tremble, “I think I will.”

He dragged his tongue up along Sekh’s slit, from entrance to clit- and the drow gave a cry, eyes squeezing shut. Gods it felt like lifetimes since he’d felt Astarion’s tongue.

The vampire groaned, a mumbled fuck, his fingers pressing with bruising force into Sekh’s thighs. Sekh managed to untangle himself from his shirt, letting it drop off the bed, as Astarion eagerly went back for another taste, lapping at his lips, just teasing his clit enough to keep Sekh squirming.

“Tease,” the drow breathed, hands grasping at the blanket beneath him. It was nice, to be in a bed for once- to not have the hard earth pressing into his bones.

Astarion growled, but otherwise didn’t respond, hips continuing to rock into the bed as his tongue worked Sekh’s cunt. He finally gave the drow the touch he wanted- tongue rolling over his clit, again and again and again, until Sekh was seeing stars, behind his eyelids, gasping for breath.

He hadn’t had release, even by his own hand, since the last time he’d bedded Astarion. The weeks of celibacy had left him desperate, sensitive- and he could feel his orgasm already building, in his belly.

He reached down with one hand, tangled his fingers into Astarion’s wild, soft curls- and pushed. Astarion made a surprised little noise, and Sekh felt him tremble as he was forced closer to his cunt, held there so Sekh could grind against his tongue.

From the eager way the vampire’s tongue danced along the sensitive bud, he was loving it.

“Astarion,” Sekh breathed, “I’m so close.” It made his belly ache, to be right there, dancing along the edge of bliss and yet not tripping over the edge. Astarion made another needy noise, and Sekh could feel the bed shift as he desperately rutted against it, needing friction just as badly as the drow.

Sekh dug his shoulder blades into the bed, one hand twisting the blanket, the other Astarion’s hair, as he found his first release in what felt like centuries. Euphoria washed over him as he cried out Astarion’s name, thighs trembling with the force of his orgasm, body seizing up, wishing desperately to have something inside him, to clench around.

Astarion’s efforts didn’t diminish, his tongue eager, working along Sekh’s clit until it was so sensitive Sekh was squirming, pushing his head away instead of towards him. Astarion fought it for a moment, before he obeyed, moving his tongue instead to Sekh’s entrance. The hands on his thighs moved, spread him open so Astarion would push his tongue just inside him, get a true taste.

Sekh arched again, eyes nearly rolling, behind his eyelids. Astarion’s growl reverberated into his body, echoed in Sekh’s very bones. When he slit his eyes open, it was to the vampire lifting his head, looking at him with pupils so blown his eyes seemed black, lips and chin glistening.

Sekh opened his mouth, to say his name, anything, but Astarion was crawling over him, pinning him down, kissing him fervently. Sekh got his arms around him, dug his fingers into his shoulders, bucked his hips up, felt Astarion’s cock rubbing against his pelvis, smearing precum onto his skin. Sekh shifted his hips slightly, trying to get himself at an angle where Astarion could slide inside him, but the vampire pulled his hips back, exhaling a shaking breath against Sekh’s lips.

“Darling, wait.” Sekh paused, thinking for a moment that perhaps Astarion didn’t want to go farther- and despite the lust clouding his mind, leaving his head foggy, he would never be so beyond himself to not stop.

“Are you okay?” Sekh moved one hand from Astarion’s shoulder to his face, cradled his cheek. The vampire was panting.

“Yes. No.” Astarion swallowed thickly, and Sekh could see the delicious points of his fangs, each time he spoke. As if they would respond to his arousal. “I…” he paused, cleared his throat, and in a softer voice that was embarrassed, admitted, “I won’t last inside you.”

Oh. Sekh relaxed, smiling up at Astarion. “Is that it?” He chuckled, and color flooded Astarion’s face. “Starshine I don’t care.”

“You should,” Astarion retorted, but Sekh shook his head. He let his hand leave Astarion’s cheek, slid it between them, fingers just brushing his cock.

“No, because this isn’t a performance. If you feel that good already- well,” Another ghost of his fingers, and Astarion trembled, “I’m flattered. Besides,” he leaned up, as he wrapped his hand around Astarion, breathed into his ear, “we have all night.”

He gave him a single stroke, and Astarion dropped his head down, rested it on Sekh’s shoulder, hips moving to desperately fuck his hand. His cock was slick with precum, droplets falling onto Sekh’s belly. Sekh smiled, rubbed his hand along Astarion’s upper back, over scars that felt warm, to his touch.

“Do you want to come?” he asked softly, and Astarion gave a desperate nod. Sekh gave his cock another squeeze, before he stroked faster, let Astarion’s hips set the rhythm. Each breath into his neck was coupled with a whine, a groan, until Astarion was sighing in pure relief, body trembling from his very core as his first orgasm took him.

Sekh felt his cum, splashing his belly, down onto his cunt. It was filthy and had him nearly squirming as he continued to stroke, until Astarion was arching his hips away.

The vampire pushed himself up, back up onto his knees between Sekh’s legs, to get a look at him. Unable to help himself, Sekh reached down, fingers moving through Astarion’s cum on his belly, until he was pushing it between his legs- rubbing along his clit once, before his own fingers delved down into his cunt.

Astarion bit his lip again, and Sekh swore the vampire was going to break his own skin. Sekh let out a shaky breath, fucking himself slowly, Astarion’s eyes locked on his fingers movements. When he went to ease his fingers out, Astarion reached for his wrist, squeezed it, pushed his fingers further into him. “Don’t,” he whispered, voice thick, “stop.”

Sekh sucked at his tongue, dug one heel into the bed and lifted his hips slightly, getting his fingers deeper. He thrust them quickly, as Astarion released his wrist, laid a hand flat and low on his belly, so he could rub his thumb over Sekh’s clit.

His other hand moved back to Sekh’s thigh, pushed so his legs were open further. “I could watch you forever,” Astarion admitted. Sekh tipped his head back, squeezed his eyes shut, felt his second orgasm of the night beginning to build, in his belly- stemming perfectly in time with Astarion’s slow rubbing of his clit. His cunt squeezed at his fingers, and he pushed them deeper, mouth falling open as he began to pant, feeling dizzy. Yet Astarion didn’t move any faster- kept a rhythm that was far too calm.

Sekh tried to roll his hips, but Astarion pressed with the hand flat to his belly.

“Don’t be impatient,” he warned, and Sekh could scream that Aastarion was the epitome of impatience- yet he listened, forced himself to still his hips. “Good,” Astarion whispered, his other thumb rubbing soothing circles into Sekh’s thigh. “Do you wish it was me inside you?”

Fuck. “Yes, gods yes.” Sekh whimpered, felt a wave trying to catch hold in his belly- his orgasm receding a moment later, leaving him wanting terribly.

“Why?”

Sekh bit his lip, dug his teeth in so tightly he almost broke skin. Astarion was going to drive him mad. “Because,” Sekh breathed, curling his own fingers, sliding along his sweet spot and making him see stars. “Nothing- nothing feels as good as you.” He craned his neck slightly, to look down his body, could still see smears of Astarion’s cum on his dusky skin.

Astarion hummed, approving. “Do you come better around me?”

Fucking hells- “Yes, yes.” Sekh’s thighs trembling, his orgasm trying to build again. He rubbed his fingertips desperately at that spot inside him, but it just wasn’t enough with how slow Astarion’s thumb was moving- and in a moment the orgasm was fading back into his belly.

The damn vampire knew, from the smirk on his face. Sekh wanted to scream.

Astarion leaned over him then, caught his stare, held it. “Sekh, darling,” he breathed, “can you be a good boy and come now?”

Sekh arched, and Astarion moved just a tick faster. But gods, it was enough. This time when his orgasm welled inside him, it crested, sent his belly and cunt into the sweetest, tightest knots- and then burst. Sekh arched so far his back should ache, shoulders digging into the bed, crying out Astarion’s name, little pleas of yes and more, as he fucked himself through the orgasm, Astarion encouraging him on.

When he finally went lax, his fingers easing from his body, the vampire was grabbing him by his wrist, pulling his hand up, sliding those two fingers into his mouth, along his tongue. He sucked at them gently, tongue rolling around him, getting a taste of Sekh’s wetness, his own cum that the drow had fucked into himself.

When Astarion finally guided his fingers from his mouth, Sekh grabbed him, pulled him down and rolled them over, so he was sprawled on top of the man. Astarion let him, seemed relaxed as Sekh kissed him eagerly, rocking against his body. He wasn’t fully hard again yet- but his cock was still pressing tight to Sekh, weeping precum already.

Sekh broke the kiss, had Astarion chasing his mouth, wanting more. Instead he kissed the hollow of his throat, then the dip of his clavicle. Slowly, Sekh eased down his chest in a line, only glancing up when he reached Astarion’s navel.

The vampire was watching him with rapt attention.

Sekh smiled softly to himself, continued his way down, until he could press a kiss just under Astarion’s cockhead. The vampire groaned, as Sekh took him in hand, easing his mouth down along him, able to take him until his lips pressed to Astarion’s pelvis-

For now.

“Gods,” Astarion breathed, as Sekh suckled gently, his tongue rolling along Astarion’s cock. He could feel each throb of desire, as the vampire hardened slowly, against his tongue. Carefully, Sekh eased back, pulled off and stared up at Astarion as he stroked up along his length.

“There are no gods here.” Sekh’s voice was a rumble from his chest. “Only me.” Astarion whined, and Sekh took him back in his mouth, easing down along his length as far as he could- which was quickly becoming less and less.

Astarion tangled a hand in his free hair, rubbed it between his fingers as Sekh reveled in the salty taste of his skin. He pressed his thighs together, his cunt aching again, body insatiable.

He was still squirming, when Astarion tugged at his hair, guided him off his cock. It left Sekh’s mouth with a wet pop, bobbed against his lips. He stuck his tongue out, unable to keep himself from teasing, as Astarion still watched.

But the vampire’s eyes told him everything- this wasn’t what he wanted. This wasn’t what he’d ached for, all day.

Sekh pushed himself up onto his hands, let Astarion pull him up the bed, stretch out on his side. The vampire kissed him, drank down the saltiness on his tongue, as he carefully rolled him onto his back. Sekh moved like liquid, thighs spreading without Astarion’s guidance, as his lover slipped between them, still kissing him hungrily.

Sekh hooked a leg up on Astarion’s hip, bared himself, as the vampire took himself in hand, rubbing his cock along his cunt. Sekh trembled, as Astarion breathed against his lips, before the vampire’s tongue was pushing back into his mouth, at the same time as he eased into his body.

Sekh groaned, his hands reaching up, grasping at Astarion’s back, as the vampire’s hand planted on the bed, supported himself as he rocked into his body. Sekh broke the kiss to gasp a breath, and Astarion dropped his head, panted against Sekh’s hair. The drow could feel the muscles in his back and shoulders- tense- as Astarion tried to contain his thrusts.

“Don’t,” Sekh whispered, as Astarion lifted his head. “Don’t hold back.” Astarion made a small, needy noise, and Sekh smiled, curled his leg tighter around Astarion’s hips and ass, pulling him in quickly, so deep that Sekh nearly forgot his own thoughts.

Astarion groaned, before he went back for the drow’s mouth, kissing him rhythmlessly, hungry. His hips moved faster, fucked into Sekh so hard that the drow didn’t think he could breathe. He clung to Astarion desperately, body coiling tight, screaming because this is what he had wanted, for so long.

Astarion nipped at his lip, pressed the tip of a single fang just hard enough to break skin. He gathered the drop of blood on his tongue, and the following thrust had Sekh breaking the kiss, screaming. Gods, he was going to bruise inside- and he wanted nothing more.

“They’re going-to-hear us,” Sekh panted, words broken by thrusts. Astarion bared his fangs, looked feral, ethereal, divine and hellish.

“Let them.” He pushed up, grasped a hand at Sekh’s hip, the other at the thigh not clutching tightly to his body. He pushed Sekh’s leg until his hip ached, yet the drow didn’t stop him, eyes rolling at the way it let Astarion get even deeper inside him. “Let them hear you break, darling.”

Sekh arched, a hand scrambling down his belly, between his folds. He rubbed at his clit, the bud hard and aching. His cunt was screaming, nerves alight and burning so hot he swore he would combust. Astarion didn’t seem to be in a better state- his breaths rushed, sweat along his hairline, a bead running down his throat.

Gods Sekh wanted to lick it away.

“Only,” Sekh managed, felt his cunt clenching around Astarion. “Oh fuck.” He rolled his hips, for a moment forgetting what he had even been trying to say. Astarion didn’t seem to mind, nails digging little crescent moons into his thigh.

Sekh swore his nails were sharper, lately. Talon like. And yet somehow, he didn’t think they even could hurt him, were they inside him. As if Astarion didn’t possess the power to make his body cause Sekh harm.

“Only if you break with me,” he finally managed, watched Astarion baring his throat. Sekh still wanted to dig his teeth into that pale skin, feel it break, get a taste of the vampire for a change.

Astarion’s mouth fell open, an attempt at Sekh’s name. Sekh felt his muscles coiling, along his back, his belly, his very core. His fingers moved desperately, and he knew Astarion could feel how close he was, how desperately his body wanted to break.

He pushed harder, so deep into Sekh it should have hurt- but everything felt good, in that moment. Sekh cried out his name, a panted mantra of Astarion, Astarion, Astarion, as his orgasm took hold and quaked through him. The world faded to black, the only light the white hot starbursts, behind his eyelids. Sekh was smiling, head tipped back, still coming when Astarion followed, his own shout of Sekh’s name.

Sekh felt each wave of Astarion’s orgasm, inside him. Behind his eyelids, his eyes rolled, realizing he was so full, and gods, wanting still more. He wanted Astarion to fill him to the point that he couldn’t contain all of his seed, that it was spilling down his thighs.

Astarion’s hips finally stilled, as he leaned over Sekh, sought out his kiss swollen lips. Sekh sighed into it, pulled Astarion until the vampire was lying along him, a pleasant weight as they both slowly came down from their high. The drow’s hands roamed along his back, fingers idly tracing his scars without even meaning to.

Astarion sighed into the kiss, broke away just to press his forehead against Sekh’s. And, in a voice that was hoarse yet soft, whispered, “I missed this.”

Sekh smiled. “The bed or the sex?” he teased, and Astarion huffed, finally rolling off of him. He stretched out next to him, staring up at the dark ceiling.

His only answer was, “You.”

Sekh felt his heart flutter, the wicked thing taking flight in his chest. He rolled onto his side, slotted in against Astarion’s, tracing a hand down his chest as he propped his cheek against his other hand. “Astarion,” he started, “what are we?”

The vampire glanced at him, before turning his eyes back to the dark above. He was quiet, for a moment, before admitting, “I don’t know.” He licked his lips, rolled the next words over before continuing. “You’re not a target. You’re not a night it’s best to forget. But then, what are you? What does that leave?” Astarion reached for the hand that was stroking slowly along his chest, grasped it, tangling his fingers with Sekh’s. “I don’t know how to be a part of anything else.” He turned his head to face Sekh, his eyes open, vulnerable. “But you said you care… and I trust you. I feel safe with you.”

Sekh leaned down, pecked Astarion’s lips very softly. “I do care,” he whispered, “more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. And I’ll always keep you safe, Starshine.” Another soft kiss, but when Sekh tried to pull away, Astarion chased him, dragged the kiss out until he was pulling Sekh back down properly to the bed, so he could sprawl against the drow’s side, rest his head on his chest.

Sekh wrapped his arm around him, rubbing along his spine. Astarion’s cheek was cool against his warm skin, a comfort. For a long moment, they lapsed into silence, and Sekh was content with it, happy to hold the man against him. He could have laid in silence forever.

But Astarion broke it. “I’m terrified,” he admitted, not lifting his head. Sekh’s hand stilled. “Terrified because you should be taken from me. What you do to me…” He took a slow breath. “Anyone else who made my dead heart sing died for it.”

Sekh resumed his slow strokes of Astarion’s spine. He didn’t need to ask who would never let Astarion have anything. It was all too obvious.

“Once,” Astarion said, his voice trembling, “in the early years of my… slavery. I met a boy. A darling boy.” His voice caught, and he had to pause, take a slow breath. “And I couldn’t bear the thought of bringing him back to Cazador- couldn’t live with myself knowing I was going to bring him to his death. So I… I ran.”

His arm slid over Sekh’s waist, held onto him. Whether for comfort or as if to protect Sekh from the phantom of his master, the drow wasn’t sure.

“Cazador found me. Of course he did. And he locked me in a tomb for an entire year, starving.” A tremble wracked Astarion’s body, as he tried to grip Sekh even tighter. “There were months of trying to claw my way out, feeling my nails break off my fingers just to sprout back.  Months of screaming my throat raw- months of nothing at all. Of silence and blackness. And months of just wishing for death. And then…” Astarion squeezed his eyes shut. “Even moments of begging for forgiveness. Thinking that if Cazador would just let me out, I’d make things right.”

Astarion pushed himself up then, looked down at Sekh. The drow could see a shimmer to his eyes, tears unshed, begging for freedom but never having it granted.

“I was weak. I never knew what happened to that man. Perhaps my suffering was for nothing and Cazador still drained him dry, took his life while I screamed in my tomb. But I learned that I… I can’t have anyone. They will always belong to him.” Astarion closed his eyes, and added in a broken voice, “I’m terrified that I’m bringing you death.”

Sekh sat up then, pulled Astarion into his arms. He cradled the man, held his head to his chest, stroked his hair as he felt a silent sob wrack the vampire’s body. “I told you he’d never have me,” Sekh whispered, “and I meant it. You don’t belong to him. And nor do I. I won’t ever let that happen to you again.” He held him tighter, and in a voice that felt like fire and steel, added, “I will never let him hurt you again.”

Slowly, Astarion calmed. His trembling subsided, and he sat up himself, pulling from Sekh’s chest. There were no tear stains on his cheeks- but Sekh almost wished there were. It would do the man good, to cry for himself.

“You can’t promise that,” Astarion pointed out.

“Oh, but I can.” Sekh reached for Astarion, caressed his cheek, cradled it softly. “I swear on my life, on my pact with Syl, on everything that I am and ever will be. He will never hurt you. Again.” Astarion nuzzled against his palm, eyelids fluttering shut, as the vampire simply breathed him in, mulled the words over.

If he had an answer, a rebuttal, he kept it to himself. Instead, when he spoke, he only added, “Stubborn fool.” Those eyes fluttered back open. “I shouldn’t expect anything less from a drow.”

Sekh cracked a smile then. “No, you absolutely shouldn’t. We are rather amazing.”

Astarion huffed, turned to kiss Sekh’s palm. “You’re rather ridiculous,” he corrected, but- oh- he was smiling. And Sekh would do anything for one of those smiles. He must have stared, with the same lovesick, dumb look on his face, because Astarion’s cheeks flushed lightly, and he added in a mumble, “and staring.”

“Sorry,” Sekh said, “it’s hard not to.”

Astarion rolled his eyes, before he reached out, shoved Sekh. The drow sprawled on his back, and Astarion crawled over him. “That’s enough talk,” he said, bowing his head and pressing a kiss to Sekh’s throat. “We’re only going to get so much privacy before the rest of our merry band get bored.”

Sekh tipped his head back, exposed his throat, and Astarion dragged his tongue over it, the drow so sure he could feel his pulse. “Is this what you want?” Sekh asked- just wanting to be sure.

Astarion paused, mouth poised over Sekh’s warm skin. For a moment, Sekh could feel just his breath, before the vampire said, in a voice that sounded sure, “Yes.”

The one word affirmation was all Sekh needed. Before Astarion could do more than plant a single kiss against his throat, he was rolling them over, pinning Astarion back to the bed. The vampire arched, as Sekh grasped his wrists, pinned them up towards his head. Astarion’s eyes danced like evening lights.

“Darling,” he purred, “what are you doing?”

His voice was intrigued, dripped with anticipation. Sekh gave him a cocky, sly smile, and pecked his lips quickly. “Taking care of you,” he whispered, before he let go of Astarion’s wrists and slid down his body. He didn’t give the vampire a moment for even a thought, before he was dragging his tongue along his soft cock, making Astarion arch.

He smiled to himself, teased him with his tongue, his hands rubbing Astarion’s thighs, urging them open. The vampire obeyed, as Sekh turned, kissed his pelvis, then the soft skin of one pale, inner thigh. Astarion sighed, and Sekh nipped at the skin, felt Astarion shake, just once.

He grasped the flesh between his teeth harder, enough pressure to ache, and Astarion’s breath caught. Oh. “I want to tear into you,” Sekh admitted, the hand that was on Astarion’s neglected thigh moving to his cock, teasing it. He was half hard already, from just that one bite.

Astarion tossed his head, little noises leaving his pretty lips as Sekh stroked him, teasing his cockhead with his thumb. He kissed the spot he’d bitten, and Astarion pushed his thigh closer to Sekh’s mouth. Taking the invitation, Sekh grasped the flesh in his teeth again, digging in until it had to burn, his teeth indenting into Astarion’s soft skin.

Astarion gasped, arched- and Sekh felt his cock throb, leak precum down over his knuckles. He laved his tongue over his teeth marks, before he sucked at the skin, knowing it had to sting. Astarion squirmed, but not away from him- and when Sekh lifted his head, he knew the flushed skin he’s bathed in his attention would bruise, soon.

The thought made his cunt ache.

He turned his attention back to Astarion’s cock, taking him over his eager tongue, swallowing until he couldn’t fit anymore. The vampire reached for his hair, tangled it around the fingers of both hands, pushing Sekh down further still, until tears beaded in the corners of the drow’s eyes.

Astarion was panting, as Sekh grasped at the thigh he’d bruised, digging his thumb into the sensitive skin. Astarion whined, this sweet, nearly broken sound, and Sekh ground down into the bed- wanting friction, wanting Astarion inside him again. Wanting everything.

The moment Astarion let up even the slightest on pulling at his hair, Sekh was pushing himself up, forcing the vampire to lose his hold. Sekh climbed over him, straddled his hips, and with an ease that was obscene, lowered himself onto Astarion’s cock.

The vampire groaned, eyelids fluttering, eyes nearly rolling. Sekh leaned over him, grasped his wrists, pushing them back to the bed, pinning him down as he rode him. His movements were quick, his hair falling over his shoulders, into his face as he panted.

“Fuck,” Astarion growled, hips rocking up to meet each of Sekh’s movements. “Darling, slow down.”

Sekh bared his teeth, squeezed Astarion’s wrists. “No.” He  pressed himself tight to Astarion, had his cock nestled so deep inside him he could nearly choke. Astarion shuddered, mouth falling open- and Sekh knew what the man wanted to say, if he could form words-

He wouldn’t last. He needed Sekh to come first. He needed, he wanted-

“This is about you,” Sekh said, lifting his hips, before slamming them back down again. “Let me just focus on you.”

Astarion tipped his head back, whatever words he had dying on his tongue. Sekh smiled to himself, his thighs beginning to burn as he rode Astarion. He didn’t care. He wanted his lover to find a soul shattering release while simply lying back.

Sekh squeezed his wrists, his cunt clenching around Astarion. His own body yearned for more stimulation, for another release. He ignored it completely, simply enjoying being aroused, as Astarion melted beneath him. The man’s breaths were ragged, his hips losing any rhythm they’d had.

The drow grinned to himself, wicked and divine, watching Astarion’s face contort in sheer ecstasy. His cheeks were flushed, kiss swollen lips open in desperate pants, whining keens of need. And gods those eyes.

“Can you come for me?” Sekh asked, and Astarion managed a nod. Sekh clenched around him, purposefully, and Astarion choked, eyes fluttering open. “Good. Come on Starshine-” he bowed his head down, found Astarion’s ear and breathed into it, “fill me until I’m nothing but you.”

Astarion cried out, wordless, trembling as he obeyed. His orgasm had him nearly thrashing, arching as he pushed against Sekh’s hold on his wrists. The drow pushed him down harder to the bed, continuing to slide along his cock, milking Astarion’s orgasm until the vampire had nothing left for him.

When Astarion began to melt into the bed, Sekh slowed, began to grind against him instead of riding him, getting a bit of friction that sent sparks down his spine. Eyes still closed, Astarion licked his lips, trying to catch his unneeded breath.

“Wicked,” he managed, his eyes slitting open, “wicked, darling boy.” Sekh grinned, finally lifting himself off Astarion, rolling onto his side. The moment he did, Astarion was turning to face him, one hand sliding between his legs, two fingers pushing into him with such ease it had Astarion growling.

Sekh gasped, thighs trembling, as Astarion buried his fingers as deep as he could, nosing at his throat, his jaw. “Don’t you dare waste a drop,” he whispered, fingers thrusting slightly, mostly just curling to push at all of Sekh’s sweet, aching nerves. Sekh bit his lip, and Astarion clicked his tongue, and the moment Sekh released his lip Astarion was there, pinning it between his teeth.

Desperate now, body craving another release to the point that Sekh was dizzy, the drow slid a hand between them, pressed his fingers along his aching clit, rubbing quickly. Astarion released his lip, smiled. “Good,” he said, words breathed against Sekh’s mouth. “Fall apart for me. Let me feel it.” His fingers thrust quicker, and if Sekh’s mind was clear, he’d wonder how it didn’t hurt, how Astarion managed to not catch those sharpened nails on his soft insides even once.

Again- it was as if the vampire couldn’t hurt him.

Sekh tipped his head back, body so close that all his muscles felt knotted. Astarion mouthed at his exposed throat, dragged his fangs along Sekh’s pulse. Sekh saw stars, before everything burst in another crest of pleasure. His cunt tried to milk Astarion’s fingers, and the vampire gave a warm chuckle, bemused by the fact that Sekh’s body was so starving for him.

Sekh touched himself through it, lost in his own body, in each pulsing wave of pleasure. Even as they began to ease he touched, Astarion’s fingers never once letting up.

When Sekh’s hand finally fell away, the vampire slowed his ministrations, but didn’t cease. “Aw, pet,” he cooed, “is that all you have for me?”

Sekh’s eyes fluttered open, and he reached for Astarion’s chin, grasped it and pulled him in for a kiss. He pushed his tongue into the vampire’s mouth, teased those glorious fangs, felt Astarion trying to tame him. He clenched himself around his fingers purposefully, and Astarion gasped, suddenly giving to Sekh’s clawing at dominance.

“No,” Sekh finally said, against Astarion’s lips. “I have so much more for you.” Astarion growled, pulled his fingers from Sekh then, sliding them up between their mouths. Astarion dragged his tongue along them, and Sekh mimicked him, tasted himself mingled with Astarion’s cum.

Astarion parted his fingers, and Sekh’s tongue flicked at the vampire’s. Gods he wanted to go again already, wanted to ride Astarion again until the vampire was screaming for him.

But before he could roll the man over, climb back onto him, he could hear loud footsteps, outside their rooms. Laughter.

It seemed their time was up.

Sekh frowned, and Astarion sighed. The vampire pulled from Sekh, stood up and stretched. “I believe that’s the after party,” he said, nodding towards the door.

Sekh flopped over onto his belly, still frowning. “Dammit,” he mumbled, as Astarion found his own discarded underwear, stepping into them. “I wasn’t done.”

Astairon glanced over his shoulder, now holding his pants. “You are insatiable.”

“You weren’t done either,” Sekh pointed out, and the vampire simply flashed him a toothy smile, before getting into his pants. He gathered up Sekh’s own pants and underwear- which had somehow managed to be flung with enough force to land on Gale’s bed- and handed both to the drow.

“Maybe if you can be quiet,” Astarion teased, bending over and pecking his lips quickly, “We can have a little more fun once they’re all asleep.” Sekh choked, as Astarion straightened up, adding, “of course, we both know you can’t.”

He grabbed his shirt, carrying it with him as he crossed the room. Sekh grinned, called out after him, “You can’t either!”

Astarion didn’t once pause to challenge him.

Sekh hurriedly squirmed into his underwear and pants- was sitting on the bed when Astarion opened the door, leaned against it and greeted a rather tipsy Gale and Shadowheart. Sekh didn’t bother to listen to what they said, as the two entered.

“Were you two not done?” Shadowheart asked, folding her arms as she reached Sekh. Gale sat down on his own bed, sighing because it had to be nice not to have his aching joints cushioned by just a bedroll.

“Maybe not,” Sekh teased, and Gale groaned.

“I regret choosing this bed,” the wizard said. “Shadowheart, want to switch?”

“Absolutely not.” she sat down on the edge of Gale’s bed, seeming to think for a moment. “Wait… who is on your other side?”

“Karlach.” Gale looked a bit confused, and Shadowheart grinned.

“I might change my mind, then.”

Sekh bit back a laugh. He had to wonder if Shadowheart was ever going to follow through with a single of her flirtatious remarks regarding the tiefling. He doubted Karlach would have a single complaint.

Speaking of- “Where is Karlach?”

“She and Wyll just came back- and yes, they have our resident child in tow.” Shadowheart said it fondly. “Hence why we’re here. If it wasn’t Gale and I- Lae’zel was going to burst through those doors and demand you two stop mid act if needed so she could sleep.”

Sekh smiled, just as he heard the door opening again, the room flooding with the rest of their companions. Astarion was with them, shirt now on, walking next to Karlach, who had Yenna in one arm, the child draped across her shoulder, dead asleep.

“That one,” Astarion said, pointing to a bed around the corner of the room, from the one Sekh sat on. “She’ll want to be close to Sekh, I’m sure.”

Karlach nodded, heading up the single stair to the enclave, Yenna’s cat following behind in perfect step. Sekh watched the cat, felt a strange tingle in his mind, almost a recognition.

He didn’t have time to dwell on it, as Astarion returned to him, passed a cup he was holding to Sekh. For a moment Sekh thought it was wine, which really wasn’t what he needed- but the cup was quite cold.

He took a sip as Astarion sat down next to him, the man saying something to Gale that had the wizard groaning, exclaiming he hadn’t had enough wine to deal with him. 

It was just water.

Sekh glanced at Astarion, must have stared, because the vampire looked at him, quirked a brow. “What?”

“Uh. Nothing.” Sekh glanced down at the glass, and Astarion cleared his throat, made a point to look away.

“I just assumed you’d need it.” He turned his attention back to Gale and Shadowheart- but there was the faintest color to his cheeks, the tips of his ears.

Sekh smiled, taking another sip, the cool water soothing on his throat. Astarion had said he didn’t know what they were, didn’t know how to be anything-

But Sekh would argue he did. He would argue that Astarion even thinking about his needs was the vampire already doing more than he thought himself capable of.

Sekh leaned over, pressed a kiss to Astarion’s temple- and without looking, the vampire slid an arm around his waist, pulled him closer.

This would be alright, Sekh told himself. In the end, no matter what- this would be alright.

It had to be.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #tavstarion #sekh'met #sekstarion #eternally yours #astarion/tav #astarion x tav

[izzuku]

➥ welcome to the club

hey i'm Ash and welcome to my acc

For my presentation: I'm bi, trans / use he|they pronouns and I'm 19 ! ٭ ٭ ٭ click "read more" for the rules and masterlist! [Stopped writing fics for now]

rules !

1 If you're under 16 please do not follow me. I have been engaging more and more in NSFW content and I don't want any minors reading my stuff :) and if I find out you're I'll block you (IF YOU DON'T PUT YOUR AGE I'LL IMMEDIATELY BLOCK YOU THANK YOU)

2 Do not repost my fics. I know they're not much but I just want to make it clear for everyone.

3 No transphobia, homophobia or racism is tolerated here. That also includes if you're a weirdo/pedo you'll be immediately blocked and reported.

▵ ▵ ▵ ▵

side note: I do not mind women/female aligned people on my account but keep in mind one thing. This account is mostly for the male audience and non binary/ gender not conforming people. I have decided that I'll not write for women since I'm not comfortable with it and it makes my dysphoria a big problem. Please do not ask me for it and search for someone who will do it gladly.

IMPORTANT: I've stated this before but I'm gonna remind you. Fem aligned people are welcome to my account, after all I mostly do gn reader but what I'm not that comfortable is with them liking posts DIRECTED towards cis men/ trans men. I do understand that it might be good written for you, but please, these are for them. Not for you. I know I don't have the power to tell you what to do. But I can block you. So understand that if I see someone like She/her - she/they (with also lesbian on their bio) liking my male reader posts I'm gonna be uncomfortable.

redacted + other art stuff twt acc ⁉️

content I'm okay with writing!

⊹ NSFW, fluff, angst, crack, common/ mild kinks, character x character, reader x multiple characters, monsters, vtubers (not making it like it's real), one shots, head canons & series about character x reader

content I'll not touch!

⊹ Adult character x child reader/character (as in a romantic aspect), real people (I'll only take vtubers online persona), incest, non-con, really explicit kinks, disturbing ideas that people might ask, furries (monster fucking doesn't count I guess), pedophilia, hate speech towards minority groups

specific exceptions :

✂ dub-con but only if people are okay with it (my other account has dark content if you're interested), heavy kinks only if I'm comfortable (somnophilia for example), monsters (like fucking a tentacle monster, a werewolf, etc) and I think that's it.

some fandoms I've written for:

☕︎︎ MHA:

- Boys Headcanons

- Deku (Angst/Fluff)

- Tamaki (Appreciation Post)

- Boys (Small details)

-Izuku (With Love)

- Let me be (Izuku 1)

- Let me be (Izuku 2)

- Let me be (Izuku 3)

- Let me be (Izuku 4)

- Let me be (Izuku final)

☕︎︎ GENSHIN IMPACT:

- Zhongli (messy outcome remake) 🔞

- Tighnari (Cursed fantasy) 🔞

- Tighnari (Silhouette) 🔞

- Dainsleif (Aimed to Kill)

- Kazuha (Fluff)

- Pantalone (Teasing) 🔞

- Zhongli (Dom Reader) 🔞

- Kaeya (Heacanons) 🔞

- Diluc (Flames) 🔞

- Xiao (Angst)

- Xiao (Brat tammer) 🔞

- Albedo (Body Open) 🔞

- Albedo (Fluff)

- Albedo (Succubus) 🔞

- Thigh Riding 1 🔞

-Thigh Riding 2 🔞

-Thoma (Is that so) 🔞

☕︎︎ MYSTIC MESSENGER:

- 707 (Stargazing)

- RFA Eyes

- Wounds 1 (TW sh)

- Wounds 2 (TW sh)

- Late Confessions 1

- Late Confessions 2

☕︎︎ LUXIEM / SHXTOU:

- Ike (Killer High heels) 🔞

- Ike (4 am)

- Luxiem hot 🔞

- Vampire Luxiem 1 🔞

- Vampire Luxiem 2 🔞

- Needy Shoto 🔞

- Mysta (Brat tammer) 🔞

- Kyo (Slow your grind) 🔞

☕︎︎ REDACTED AUDIO:

- Gavin Fanart 🔅

- Gavin Fanart 2 🔅

- Redacted Headcanons 🔅

- Redacted Headcanons 2 🔅

- David Fanart 🔅

- David Fanart 2 🔅

- Redacted Art Dump 1 🔅

- Redacted Art Dump 2 🔅

- Oc's reunion (Darlins) 🔅

- Red Redacted 🔅

others I'm interested in include ── kimetsu no yaiba / attack on titan / obey me / nu carnival / ouran high school / saiki k

ෆ Hope this clears up any questions you have! ෆ

#izzuku #masterlist

[goat-guy-tm]

Jesson is wrong #4

It's been an ass cracks' time since I've made a Jesson be wrong post, but here I am at it again with one of my stupid little opinions.

It's no wonder to, most anybody that has gone back an rewatcjed MYS in any capacity that fantasy racism exists so rampant in that story. Literally eberything season 4 and beyond is about how the whole group is being hunted down because Aaron is an ultima. Not only that but there is the whole thing with Sylvana admiting to fetishizing werewolves, Katelyn being activly against werewolves existing because of her brother getting attacked by one once (when Aaron's life was being threatened she was like "well, he's a werewolf so...idk aph, but I guess I'll let him still lice cause you like him").

Not to metion the whole thing with the ultima existing is a concept only in MYS. They never explore the possability of Aaron being a werewolf in MCD, which maybe he wasn't one there but that would make little to no sense. Lucinda was a witch in both, Michi and KC were mifwas in both, other werewolves were werewolves IN BOTH, so why did Aaron suddenly do a species change?!

Not only that, but an Ultima Werewolf existing insinuates the existence of an Ultima Meifwa, or some equivlant. And this is never explored or nothing, like please, there are so many question left unabswered with the concepts of Ultimas.

#aphmau aaron #aphmau minecraft diaries #aphmau #aphmau mcd #aphmau mystreet #jesson are wrong #my street #my street aaron #mcd

[caelumsnuff]

Hey, I was the guy on the confessions blog I saw you reblogged. Just wanted to give you some context on what I was saying cause I saw you ask.

There's this influx recently, at least on my fyp, of people injecting these very strange racial dynamics into their hcs. It's not tons, but it's definitely there. Tbh, I usually wouldn't give two shits, but it's clearly done by the whitest of white ppl and being black in this community sucks sometimes, so I wanted to rant.

I'm pissed because I don't remember all of them, but one definitely went along the lines of 'oh I hc all the Solaires as white and Porter as a poc. That's why Will's using Porter as muscle not the others in the clan. Doesn't that make him so tragic :(??'.

Like...sorry? Okay? Cool, actual real life racism=angst? One of many, but it's the only one the comes to mind rn. And people eat it up. Idk, but it rubs me the wrong way to be like, 'oh wouldn't it be angsty if Will hated black people? Guys look, I'm so woke. Racism exists and I think it's bad.' Free me bro. My god, free me.

It sounds so Disney Channel and fake when I type it, but I shit you not it really is like that. So fucking strange. This fandom has the critical thinking of twelve year olds. Seems they follow in Daddy Redacted's footsteps when it comes to godawful racial allegories.

ooooooooooooooooohhhhhhh okay i understand what you meant. I didn't see something like this and i haven't yet, so i guess i can't say anything too solidly about it. My general opinion is that sometimes fantasy/fiction can be used both as escapism (bigotry doesn't exist) or for catharsis (Bigotry exist, and here how X character deals with it/is affected by it). You're definitely justified in questioning it (or feeling uncomfortable) when certain people do it tbh, it really can feel like sprinkling in flavor or just straight patronizing.

There's no "correct" way to go about it that is going to perfectly encapsulate everyone's unique experiences with oppression, but there's for sure wrong ways of doing it (stares directly at Mr. Erik Redacted Audio and his d(a)emons). It really shows when someone has implicit biases that they haven't worked out yet so they end up doing/making something bigoted when they intended to make commentary on a social issue they don't understand the complexities of and/or have experience with.

Thanks for the clarification, Anon! Much appreciated! Hope you stop by again :3 🩷

#ask #anon #redacted asmr #redacted audio

[bisque-firedvampire]

You know what, I want to eventually introduce y’all to my dnd characters, because they are my personal blorbos and the only people who know about them, well, already know about them. Which makes it kind of hard to just share things about them…

Of course I’m not gonna dump all my babies on y’all in one post. Where would be the fun in that?

Today I just want to introduce you to my son, Anthony. I mean son quite literally, because he is the child of my player character before him in this campaign. Her name was Cheryl, and she was a housewife from the 70s who got isekaied to a magical fantasy land and conscripted to represent the god of druids in a prophecy. She was wildfire Druid w/ a bat familiar the size of a shih tzu, enough said.

Alas, if I’m talking about her son, then you can guess that poor Cheryl did not make it.

From his perspective, at 2 years old, his mother died in house fire one morning while cooking breakfast for him and his big sister, Sheri. He and his sister survived, of course, and he was later sent to live with his mother’s family in Montana when the Arizona State courts ruled his father unfit to care for both children.

He didn’t figure out what actually happened to his mother until he was in his 30s and the same thing happened to him!

Anthony worked as a stuntman and creature actor in Hollywood for most of his adult life. They were all small parts until he got offered a role in a weird vampire/superhero sequel in the late 90s/early 2000s. Sometime in the late spring/early summer of 2001, during filming in Europe, he got isekaied on set when a stage light fell on him.

When he was summoned he was in full costume and wearing SFX makeup. So the magic, which made things like another PC’s foam Larp armor into genuine metal plate, interpreted his makeup as his default race…

Thus making him a Living Dhampire!

This had fun consequences for Anthony, such as: the party trying to kill him the first they met him, Fantastic racism from the locals, and re-learning how to close his mouth.

Just like his mother, Anthony became a Druid and took up the party’s quest. He was a Primordial Druid, though, and where his mother specialized in fire magic, he specialized in wind/weather spells.

He also had a bat companion, but she was about golden retriever sized and had a knack for biting things instead of setting them on fire. Her name is Cama, and she recently grew big enough to ride.

There is a lot I could go on to tell y’all about Anthony, but that would take too long, so here’s a lightning round of fast facts:

He has his mother’s freckles, even in Dhampir form

He’s terrified of chickens and large fires

He ate a devil fruit, it was a Lizu-lizu no mi: chameleon model

Some visual inspirations for him include: Pedro pascal, Miguel O’Hara, reaper vampires from blade 2 and 90s cartoon Morbius

His favorite superhero is the human torch

He calls the spell ‘flame shield’ ‘mother’s love’ in dedication to his mother

He still carries his first piece of fan mail on him, it was from his sister

And He briefly contracted lycanthropy.

I have other player characters that I can talk about , if people want to know, So feel free to ask about them.

And if you have questions about/or for Anthony, or about the campaign he and his mother are from, please ask them too!

#dnd character #dnd oc art #blade 2 #isekai #michael morbius #werewolf #devil fruit #please let me gush about my blorbos

[amrago]

About Me

Call me Queen because I'm too lazy to find another nickname for myself.

In my day- job, which sometimes it's a night-job too, I work in IT - cybersecurity.

I'm 27, European and a polyglot. Despite the fact that I've been writing for 15 years I yet have to write a complete novel that I can call that way without feeling any shame.

I write speculative fiction and romance. I haven't tried with erotica but i won't be sharing anything related here regardless.

This blog is about my writing (and use it as a motivator when I can) and serves as a collection of resources and prompts i might use in the future.

I unconsciously tend to write about my own experiences so here a list of themes, tropes and similar things I naturally tend to write about. I think this is better than a self-id list and more interesting. This is no particular order of importance or how much I use it and of course not everything is always included.

Bisexuality, especially WLW "ships";

Disability, mental illness and neurodivergency;

Feeling without a choice;

Community in a positive way*;

Underdogs;

Second (or even third, fourth chances);

Family and friends;

Some sort of war or big conflict;

Love;

Resilience and resistance...

I think there will be other things and I maybe will update the list as I go.

Anyway I'm always up for tag games etc. It might take me some time to get back because of my job (and ADHD).

I have to note that all my writing is original. I don't write or read fanfiction at the moment although I'm an avid reader.

WIPs:

Servant of Chaos -> Regency settled fantasy. Our MC is Rosaspina, 23 and demigod, grandson of Death and Destiny. He gets kicked out of magic university/institution, offically for a prank unofficially because his grades sucks. He was sent there because he had a clandestine relationship with the princess of the place he cames from and despite his parents being the general of the army and the first advisor he is not up enough the ladder for a marriage. Chaos offers him a job. Find the Death goddess so zombies stop ravaging a continent since she just disappeared. And why two of the most powerful entities ever existed decided to live in a castle with humans... And have a kid after the few millennia they have been alive and togheter. (Keep in mind that there is no racism or sexism in this world - the point is making a commentary on how much we undervalue people because they can't give you want you want in the way you expect them to. Yes MC is ADHD although it's never mentioned because at the time ADHD wasn't recognised yet. More details when I decide to create a wiki or something. )

Other things I'm working on:

What if? - Writing exercises ->That's the tag I use to publish the excerpt. I'm trying to learn how to write fiction in english and this helps.

[Placeholder for the prompt tag]

My writing -> Self-explanatory.

WIP -> Everything that has to do with my WIPs.

My tags to find references and writing tips are a mess. When I have some time (which I rarely do lol - the JOY of being an adult I guess) I will fix them in a way that makes sense.

That's everything for now!

(artwork by @mayasdigitalart - she deactivated)

#writeblr #writeblr intro #writeblrcafe #writeblr community #introduction #fantasy writer #writing community #writers of tumblr

[mikeellee]

It has been a while since I made any rant about MHA. So here I go:

1) The mutant plotline is dumb. Fantasy racism is something hard to master, most of the time the whole "the unicorns are being oppressed by the gnomes oh is just like what happened to a real life minority" can be hollow or offensive at worst.

Why I think this plotline doesn't work? Because it has no built up. I know some stans speak about "the racism" and we have seen glimpse here and there but it was nothing concrete and certainly not something to explore by the end of the manga and by characters we hardly known

Shoji and Spinner have little screen time and were put on the side in favour of...you guessed BK.

Look, we don't even know how quirkless are treated and the MC is quirkless but if Hori had show Izu anger and saying how he was abused....it would put BK in a bed light...we can't have that.

But also, even if someone says "actually, in the ova we see character X face discrimination" I want to say this: Hori is making the mutants destroy a hospital....they aren'y the good guys and Spinner is nothing more than a nomu now.

Spinner and his mutants are the bad guys.

Shoji is the good guy here and frankly ...he and Izu should have interacted more.

2) AFO is a joke. Believe in DFO as much you want but AFO is only such "scary" villain bc of his quirk. Redestro is a better villain but Hori ruined that.

3) Shig having his body taken by AFO is so stupid. I know it has foreshadow but just bc smth is foreshadow doesn't mean is good. We are just seeing Shig losing more and more of himself until he is nothing.

I had an idea that if MHA was written by a competent writer the whole concept of deku would be used on Shig. Izu would be the one free of the name, free of BK and his abuse...while Shig would be on AFO suffering...

Shig, in this version, would show humanity still, like he wouldn't be "destruction for all" and hey...having Izu and Shig interact as they realize they have smth in common.

And boom

Izu: do you need to help?

Shig: yes

3) LoV is not found family and Dabi gives 0 shits about them. I like that about Dabi. As someone who is tired of Tododrama...this aspect of him is interesting, Dabi is a villain. The same for each LoV member. They are all villains who participated gladly in a war and lilled thousands without remorse.

4) I hope BK stays dead.

#mha critical #the way a lot of the fandom treats izuku just bothers me #anti horikoshi