#the cheval glass

[jkmooneclipsesun]

If painting’s could talk.💬

“Yihaa! Stormwind! Let’s ride out in the sunset.”

“Does this dress make me look fat?”

[transparentgentlemenmarker]

Excellente semaine

[gemteeth]

Izanami Mizoroge is Chavel Glass! Finding a hero name for her was kinda hard so, I went with the Victorian Lolita fashion and chose a Victorian Era name.

[fantasyplusimpression]

Voici le top mousseline avec le cheval néon multicolore 🌈

[textmel8r]

[ SMAU + DRABBLE ] 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ! ( eighth installment ) in which you find toji fushiguro’s number off a sugar baby site .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven.

୨୧˚ incl; toji fushiguro

୨୧˚ cw; sugarmommy! reader , sugarbaby! toji , smut , submissive toji , finger sucking , masturbation , oral sex (f!receiving) , profanity

୨୧˚ an; so not happy with my writing in this one, probs will rewrite it one day but here, have a couple thousand words of smut🗣️ this is lowkey another filler but lowkey not at the same time? i wanted to fit in another intimate moment before shit goes south awooooooo

You were not fibbing when you said you knew your way around the kitchen. “Holy fuck,” Toji all but moans, tearing into another piece of tender meat with his canines. It was juicy and seasoned almost too much, just the way he likes it. He squints across the table, where you eat in tandem with much better manners than he could ever hope to have. “Who taught you how to cook like this?”

You shrug bashfully under his gawking, wiping your mouth with a dainty stroke of the napkin you had placed in your lap. “I traveled a lot in between semesters at college. Italy, France, Denmark…” You list a few more places that Toji wouldn’t be able to point out on a map. “Those European countries do food so good, I guess it inspired me to give my best shot at it as well.” Self taught, huh? Yeah, you seem like the type to succeed in everything you try. 

The man nods, ultimately wishing he had more to add. He wishes he had just an ounce in common with you, a smidgen of relatability to offer. But he doesn’t. Toji didn’t finish school. He’s never left Japan. He’s never cooked a damn thing from scratch in his life. You must’ve caught on to his struggle and decided to show mercy by adding, “actually, right now we’re eating steak au poivre.”

“Steak au po–” He cut himself off before inevitably butchering the name. “What is that? French?”

You’re nodding enthusiastically. “That’s right. I happened upon this dish when I was staying in Bordeaux with a few college mates.” There’s a sweet smile tugging sheepishly at your lips as you recall the memory. “I fell in love with it the second I tried it, and asked the manager right then and there for the recipe.”

Toji shakes his head with disbelief, talking with his mouth full of food. “You’re just full of stories, aren’t you?”

“Some would call me experienced, yes.”

His brow raises. Experienced? Was that a come on? Toji gives way to his own quaint smile, jutting his chin toward you. “Say it again.”

“Say what again?”

“Steak au whatever.”

You oblige his request, repeating the name back slowly so he could attempt to grasp it. “Steak au poivre. Now you give it a go.”

Toji finishes chewing the mouthful of peppercorn-laced meat, swallowing it down with a swig of the Château Cheval Blanc you’d poured at the start of the meal. Some fancy French imported wine is what he gathered from the long winded description you waxed as you topped off an extravagant glass for him. Wine never really appealed to the man—he usually went for the harder shit. The type that you knock back from lowball glasses. The type to get you piss drunk after three rounds—but it was all you ever drank. It was safe to say he was becoming accustomed to your tastes. Maybe the sweetness wasn’t so terrible. He clears his throat, putting embarrassingly too much effort into his “steak au poivre.” It doesn’t sound pretty the way it did leaving your mouth, and he grimaces. “Can’t fucking do it.”

“I thought you sounded good.” He scoffs at that, but you click your tongue. “I’m serious.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll just leave the French speaking to you.” The plate before him sits scraped clean. You’re still working on your dinner. Fuck, you’re a slow eater. “You know any more?”

“Any more French, you mean?”

He nods along with a gruff hum, swishing his tongue around his teeth, collecting anything left over of that smokiness from the peppered steak. 

“Hm. Tu m'as manqué, Toji.” You hide your grin behind the rim of your glass. 

Thick forearms crossed over chest, he croons a deep, barely-there chuckle. “I heard my name. Tell me what you said.”

“No way,” you chortle.

“Ah, c’mon. You’re all blushy.” He licks over the chappedness of his lower lip, knowing gaze latched onto your lips. It was hypnotic, your smile. “You say somethin’ dirty about me, ma’am?”

The way in which your eyes widened coquettishly at the accusation had Toji’s heart beating just a bit more erratically. Like a fawn, he thinks. All that was missing on you was a white, cottony tail. 

“If I said something dirty, It would have been in a language you could understand.” Finally, you take the last bite off your dish as well. Hopefully that means dinner is officially over; Toji has been craving dessert since he stepped foot in your house and got showered in ‘welcome back’ gifts. “I’m not the type of woman easily embarrassed by my sexuality. I thought you would have picked that up by now.”

He persists. “What are you embarrassed by?”

“Toji.” His name is spoken sharply, a verbal warning that he was tiptoeing the line. Threatening to shatter that layer of thin ice he stood upon. This is what he’s been needing. This is what he’s been fucking needing.

“I’ve been thinking about you, ma’am.” Any semblance of a filter is long gone, melted by the sheer heat of his desire. His limbs feel heavy, hands tumbling into his lap. They rest on the wide surface area of sweatpant-clad thighs, just sitting there. Feeling himself. “This entire week, I’ve been thinking.”

You seem to get the implications of his confession. “In a sexual way?”

“Yeah.” That’s a white lie. To be truthful was to admit that the sexual thoughts Toji let himself think about you were the minority. Objectifying you in the depths of his mind wasn't enough. He thought about your breasts, sure. He thought about your curves, and your ass, and your mouth, and every other body part that would grant him pleasure. But that wasn’t enough for Toji. Fixations of his tended to lead him astray from fantasies, instead breaching carefully saved memories stored within his brain catalog. When he touched himself, it was more or less to remembrances of mundane tasks you’d dealt him in the past. All the times you had bestowed little gifts and knick knacks on a whim just because they reminded you of him. Or when you drag him to the outlets with you for a shopping spree and he’ll act miserable the entire time, but you both knew it was a horribly crafted facade. Or even, like now, when you’d treat him to dinner because you worry over him and his eating schedule. The little things really counted; a revelation that scared Toji shitless, so he opted to ignore those budding, foreign feelings and replace it with familiarity: lust.

“Toji, honey, are you alright?”

What? His breathing pattern was off kilter, and the muscles of his jaw flexed unconsciously. When had he started palming himself? His right hand had grown a mind of its own apparently, because when Toji stole a glance downward, there it was; kneading roughly at the bulge between his meaty thighs. How desperate was he? To go dormant like that, so consumed with the thought of you that he began to instinctually masturbate himself not even five feet away from where you sit. And why… Why wasn’t he stopping?

“Can we fuck now?”

“Oh.” You barely look shocked. Not the slightest bit appalled like he expected you to be. Instead, slide off a ring that took purchase wrapped around your middle finger. A sigh escapes you as you place the band on the table. “I still have more to ask you. I wanted to know how your work trip went.”

Toji shakes his head, something akin to a toddler trying to get fed vegetables. “No.”

“No?”

“I don’t wanna talk about work.”

“Why not?” You frown, leaning forward against the tabletop. “Was it bad?”

He knows what you’re doing. Trying to make him spill any details about his job. Well, he won’t give in. 

A heavy sigh slithers out hoarsely from the deepest part of his lungs, and Toji presses his palms to the table, pushing himself up. He stands tall, much like the tent at his crotch, and slinks along the roundness of the dinner table, walking his fingertips across the top all the while. “I don’t want to talk,” he reiterates, breathy and abrasive.

Finally, Toji stands before you. Still, you are seated, unbothered by the towering man’s presence. No, you’re swirling your wine glass sophisticatedly, lips pursed into a narrow line. Like you’re the slightest bit irritated with his persistent defiance. 

God, you won't even look at him.

Or maybe, you were never irritated at all. Toji cops a second glance to your lips, finding the faintest ghost of a frown. “You’ve been acting so… so removed. Ever since you left.” Now you’re looking at him; Toji shudders under the intense fire that billows behind your eyes, wide and wetted with worry. “I want you to feel like you can tell me things. I want your trust, Toji.”

You have his trust. Every last crumb of it resides in the palm of your soft hand.

“... And I know that it’s stupid—I’m stupid for wanting that from you. I know what this relationship is, and I know that there are these unspoken boundaries, but I—I can’t—”

It was the first time he’d ever heard you speak with such a volatile expression. There was a tremble of uncertainty in your vocal chords, carrying into the skittish dialogue that tumbled out in rambles. Something about such a show of pity from you, his Y/n, made his guts churn like butter. He can’t listen to this any more. With swiftness, Toji dives down to press his mouth against yours, swallowing the words that die on your tongue. One hand grips the back of your chair, the other holds the roundness of your cheek. He feels your gasp, feels the way your shoulders jolt in surprise, but he doesn’t release you.

This was really only his second instance of kissing you. The first had been in his bed, with his groin pressed to yours, tongue fighting its way to the back of your throat with greedy fervor. This second kiss was anything but greedy, though. Despite the ache that roiled at the base of his stomach, Toji didn’t serve you a kiss that reflected his desire. Tongues never met and spit was never swapped; just lips on glossed lips. 

At last, Toji reluctantly peels away. Lipstick residue feels heavy on his mouth, and he knows he probably looks foolish donning remnants of your dark lip lacquer, but he doesn’t move to wipe his skin. The circular bottom of the wine glass clinks as you clumsily set it down, freeing your hands. They branch upwards, finding his face. A pair of thumbs rub the sensitive pads of flesh beneath his eyes, massaging out those ugly, darkened bags that have accumulated as a result of many sleepless nights. It feels orgasmic, the way you handle him. 

“I trust you.” The words are out in the air before he has time to think.

You brighten, sunshine hiding in the crevices of your smile. “You mean that?” You ask him, hands petting down the sides of his neck.

He meant it wholeheartedly. The amount of trust left within Toji was scarce. Too many bad people fucked him for life; showed him the meaning of the phrase ‘trust is earned.’ So it really fucking freaked him out how quickly you came to earn it. A little over a year-–that’s how long he’s known you—you’ve have plenty of time to fuck him over. To batter him. And yet, you haven’t. All you’ve ever shown him was kindness and consideration and warmth and everything else Toji never knew how bad he was thirsty for.

“Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

“I trust you, too, Toji.” 

He wonders if he deserves that. Because really, what has given you besides his annoyingly closed-off dickhead attitude? He provides fuck all, but you still stick around. 

Toji doesn’t say anything. He swoops once more, capturing your lips in a hungrier kiss than before. All the playful innocence is tossed aside, forgotten in lieu of Toji’s devastatingly furious need to consume you. Tongues finally greet each other in a spittle-slicked tango; he dominates yours with ease, worming behind your teeth just to collect your sweet flavor. Wine, he thinks. You taste like your goddamn expensive ass wine.

He feels feverish. One-track minded, hyper fixated on you. On your crossed legs underneath the table. “Fuck,” Toji breathes into your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip.

Your hand clashes against the hard wall of his chest, patting it softly. A wordless signal that you need some air, so he retracts. “Let’s go to the bedroom.” 

The plea goes in one ear and falls right out the other. Toji leeches against your neck, dragging the flat of his wet tongue over that little throbbing pulse point. His teeth grate against your flawless skin, completely none the wiser that you’re even talking to him. You thwack the back of his head, and he lurches into the crook of your shoulder, muffling a groan.

“No marks, I’ve got work.”

His eyes roll, face still burrowed against you. He couldn’t give less of a shit about your job right now. 

“Come on, let’s go to my room.” “Gimme a sec.” He’s still licking below your jaw, making his way down. This stupidly lavish house had been cursed with three levels, your bedroom holed up at the very top floor. Like hell Toji was going to part ways with your glorious body so you two could safely make it up the two ridiculous staircases. Fuck that.

“Toji, I’m… serious…” Your raucous pants of anticipation suggest otherwise. Toji has sunken to his knees, crawling beneath the table and finding a home on the floor before your seat. His kneecaps scream in discomfort as they pin heavily to the wooden floorboards, but Toji bears the pain well ( he’d always been somewhat of a masochist ). Your legs are still crossed, one knee hinging over the other. 

“Open these.” Two calloused hands cuff around the thinnest parts of either ankle. Your legs were conspicuously smooth; did you shave for him? There is an attempt at delicacy when Toji pries your legs apart, and it makes you giggle. 

“Here?” You laugh more. Toji suspects you’re patronizing him in a way. “I haven’t even cleared the table. Are you really so impatient?”

And here Toji thought he exercised his patience well. He didn’t jump your bones the second of his arrival. No, he waited like a good boy until after dinner. “I’ve waited for this the whole week.” Restless hands walk up those porcelain calves, strong and lean from working in high heels. They wander up, hooking beneath the junctures of your knees; Toji uses his celestial strength to his advantage, maneuvering both legs with ease until he’s got them resting comfortably over his broad shoulders. Toji turns, cocks his head to give a serpentine lick to the inside of your thigh. Then a bite. “Don’t make me wait any longer. I’ll fucking die.”

You peer down at him. “Don’t talk like that.” You feel yourself. Small hands groping your chest, sliding lower and lower. “You’re not going to die.”

His mouth feels sticky, like there’s a spoonful of honey under his tongue. “I might.”

Your heel drives into his upper back, an impish little warning that makes him throb all over. “Don’t talk like that, I said.” Those manicured hands have garnered Toji’s full attention. They descend all the way to the hem of your luxurious dress, wrenching into its hem. It’s the sexiest sight Toji had ever seen: you pulling your dress up with the quickness of a sloth, inching the fabric up until it scrunches around the dip of your waistline. 

“These are hot,” he murmurs, thumbing the waistband of the scarlet panties. They were tight, sinking into the ample pudge of your hips and soft tummy. So fucking beautiful, he thinks, the contrast between deep red lace and the flesh of which it lays upon. The perfect, little present gift wrapped in a low-rise lace thong. “Bet they cost a pretty penny.”

You spare a breathy exhale through your nostrils. “I don’t look at price tags when I buy things for you.”

You bought these just for him? “You spoil me.”

“You deserve to get spoiled, baby.”

He is so mind numbingly turned on. Sickening tendrils of appetence bleed into his vision, his lust coils around his limbs and guide his movements like a marionette. Toji thumbs your—his—panties to the side, soaking in the sight of that pretty pussy he’s longed to be back inside of since the moment he pulled out. His face is close, so fucking close that he can feel warmth radiate off your core and deepen his flush.

Perhaps this is how he begins his journey of repayment. Ever indebted to you, despite your odd relationship being a mutually agreed upon situation, Toji fears you’ve truly altered him. For the better or worse he isn’t sure yet; all he knows is that you make him feel good. Better than he’s felt in fucking ages. You said he deserves to get spoiled? Well so do you, too.

Toji eats you with erotic vigor, delving into the deepest parts of your cunt with his lascivious tongue. He’ll be the first to admit that he doesn’t possess many skills. He isn’t terribly smart, nor is he gifted with great conversational skills like you. He isn't good at holding a real job. Isn’t very good at expressing himself. Not good at abiding by the law, or staying sober, either. But if ever there was an artistry in which Toji had full confidence he had mastered, it was oral sex.

“Oh, Toji,” you gasped, forcing his face deeper with a hand on the back of his skull. “Right there.”

Toji dug you out, excavating your hole with expertise. One hand slipped up beneath your dress, under your bra, pawing at your breast whilst the other busied itself in his pants. He stroked himself to the heady taste of pussy, fanning your clit with hot puffs of breath. You writhe against his open mouth, hips dancing, hands grabbing.

It’s more enjoyable like this, Toji thinks briefly. To not expect a wad of bills afterward in exchange for his velvet tongue. He eats you for leisure, because he wants to, and because you want him, and no other reason. It’s enough that you both need each other.

Toji groans loosely when you yank his hair, getting off on the way you move his head to your liking. “Suck my clit,” you instruct quietly, and he obliges with upmost obedience, nose nuzzling against the tuft of hair at your pubic bone.

Toji opens his eyes for the first time in a while, then thanks God he did. You look something like a goddess, celestial and righteous in the way your body works against his face. Using him to cure an insatiable desperation, with your lids screwed shut and head tossed back on your shoulders. “Are you gonna cum?” He sits up on his haunches a little taller, a little more alert now to fully experience your orgasm. “Cum in my mouth.”

He begs for it. Begs like a little bitch. Over and over again, mumbling the mantra between rough suctions to your swollen clit. Begging wasn’t like him. His father beat the beggar out of him many years ago, said it was weak to yearn for things so badly. The old man was right, Toji has never felt weaker than he does right now, knelt under the table with his head between your thighs.

“Oh my God.” Your voice is strained thin, each syllable pulled taught. The vice grip on his roots start to sting, follicles ripping from the scalp, but doesn’t tell you to stop. “Toji, fuck you’re so good.”

He’s good.

“You’re so good.”

“Mmn.” He squeezes himself, chokes his dick hard. Toji feels it when you cum. Warmth floods the cavern of his slack mouth, gushing and creamy. You fall silent, stunned by the force of your orgasm he presumes. Toji licks you through your high, guzzling down every drop of wetness that seeps from your spasming slit. It’s hot and gushy and messy; cum dribbles past his lips, collecting in beads that roll down his tensing neck.

Only when you blindly push at his face does Toji part ways with your center, leaning past your trembling hand to nuzzle into your stomach. It’s concave with an ongoing exhale; he nips at your navel. “Breathe.”

“Toji,” you whisper. On the come down, you’re a lot nicer; those needy, grabbing hands of yours now stroked down the tangled mess of his damp shag. He presses a handful of sloppy smooches above your belly button.

The erection trapped in the confines of his pants twitch at the dreadfully angelic drawl of his name. “Good?” His question is gruff and pointless as ever; anyone with eyes could tell you just had the most Earth-shattering orgasm of your life.

Your head lolls forward, rolling down to face him. Fingertips brush his chin, collecting the sticky residuals that dampened his stubble. You take your lower lip in between teeth when you bring those same soaked digits to Toji’s open mouth. He doesn’t resist you. Fingers are welcomed; he unhinges his jaw, baring the same holy tongue that just drove you to Heaven. You wipe cum-ridden fingers against the muscle, and Toji clamps around them in a vacuum-esque suction, looking up at you through dark lashes all the while. Your thumb traces the raised flesh on his upper lip. That ugly, jagged scar.

He catches your wrist when you move to flee his mouth, holding you in place. Sucking on you, touching himself along the way. Lapping between fingers, tonguing the thin web of skin there.

“So good, baby boy.” There’s the praise he craved, the praise he played oblivious to get. You claw deeper, jutting towards the back of his throat, pulling a scratchy gag from the man. What kind of fetish was this? You made everything sexy, even whatever this humiliation ritual was; watching him choke down slippery fingers with fat tears bleeding at his waterline. “You are so beautiful, Toji.”

“—oh en nah,” or no I’m not had there not been a barrier blocking his teeth from touching. Toji knows he’s an aged man, one riddled with scars and wounds and bruises and gauges and what have you. His skin is nowhere near perfect, baring disgusting reminders of what he does—who he is. Beautiful is what he’d call someone like you. Someone calm and serene, humble and kind. You’re a beautiful sight, and you’re also the complete and utter opposite of him.

“You are.” He wanted to be inside you for this. Toji had been daydreaming this scenario over and out in his head over the long haul of the week, going through the motions of his plan to fuck you. He’d give you everything tenfold, a barbaric fucking unlike your first time together. He imagined finally showing you his version of things, bending you over the couch first thing and blowing his load deep into your cunt.

Toji choked again, and a single thick tear fell from his lashes. You whispered sweet prayers, holding his face, wiping his eyes, fucking his mouth with fingers that tasted of your cum. It was a damn mystery how you rendered him so fucking pitiful, to be nutting on his knees into his boxers like this. A damn mystery.

His breaths are ragged when he explodes, hand and cock obscured by the sweatpants that sat low around his hips. Toji doesn’t stop pumping, tugging the shaft with long, hard strokes, wringing himself dry. Dark eyes weld shut, and he collapses against your thigh with a quake of exhaustion. Toji doesn’t know when you withdrew your fingers; the only tell that gave it away was the string of saliva that slapped coldly against his chin in the wake of your removal. He mewls, a graveling sound that sounds as if his voice box had been dragged through a sea of razor blades.

“You alright?”

A flowery hand slithers beneath his damp cheek, and suddenly his heavy head is being lifted. Toji is forced to meet your soft gaze; adoration brims in your eyes, as though you’re proud of him for creaming in his briefs like some flimsy virgin.

“Answer me, please.”

Toji smacks his mouth, preparing for his voice to project broken and fragmented. “I’m fine.” He could do without the pity; you were cautious to a fault. He wasn’t made of glass.

“You’re filthy.”

He grumbles, feigning grumpiness and averting his eyes off to the side. “I just had your pussy in my mouth.”

You bend at the waist, leaning down to meet him for a kiss. Toji melts against you, cradling your face with his semen-stained hand. You don’t seem to mind the wetness. He’s pouting against your mouth, childlike. “I wanted to cum inside you.”

You latch onto his nose, nibbling the point. “Let’s go clean up.” There’s a telling smile etched onto your lips, and your mouth finds his ear. Whispering ever so sensually, “I have a big shower in my bedroom.”

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[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

Starlit Skirts

Astarion x fem!ElfTav|| ao3 || Masterlist

Rating: T Word Count: +2.5k A little smile stole onto Tav’s lips. “I would’ve married you in the half-hour between having my back blown out and breakfast this morning, if you’d let me. Or yesterday. Or the day before. Better yet—the day before that. A lifetime ago…” By the way his lips tenderly began to mirror her own, she could tell that it was decided. Astarion would be her husband by morning.

a/n: Valentine's Gift Exchange for @marcynomercy ; happy early Valentine's Day! ♡

Tav was growing bored, positively so. 

The early Autumn sun had pleasantly warmed her back when Astarion had first helped her onto the wooden step stool. Now, the chamber was bathed in the scattering light of late afternoons, the sun’s weakening sunrays crawling past the useless cheval glass in front of Tav.

Suppressing a yawn, her gaze wandered over the thick cotton sheet that was draped over the mirror, and—for the lack of anything better to do—she began to count the loose threats standing out from the tightly woven fabric one more time.

“I’m bored,” she declared when her eyes started to strain but a moment later.

Silence.

Tav rolled her eyes. Sometimes, it was rather irritating that Astarion only shut up when he was engrossed in his needlework—or when his mouth was otherwise occupied.

“You could at least entertain me a little,” she tried again, her voice light as she swallowed yet another yawn. “Since you’re keeping me on my toes like this all day...” 

It was no use. As if he hadn’t heard her, Astarion continued to kneel at her feet, rearranging her skirts every once in a while to have them fall in a specific way Tav wasn’t privy to.

Astarion had been working on her wedding dress for months now, and although she’d donned the dress for a number of fittings, she’d yet to see the actual gown. 

Astarion was adamant about keeping the look of the finished dress —his wedding gift to her— a secret, covering every reflective surface in the room, having her blindfolded if the need arose; working well into the night when their Elven eyes could only see in scales of grey.   

So, all Tav knew about her wedding dress was that it was quite heavy, which was at odds with the cool gossamer fabric that felt so wonderfully soft against her skin, mimicking her lover’s sweet embrace… 

Tav wasn’t able to suppress a third yawn. Not only was she bored, no, she was exhausted. 

It was the second day in a row that Astarion had her stand in front of him for hours on end, and her body was becoming increasingly stiff. She wasn’t used to feeling this drained by doing absolutely nothing, but she supposed it couldn’t be helped.

“Don’t move,” Astarion muttered all of a sudden, pearl head pins secured between his teeth as he grabbed Tav’s wrist to keep her left arm from moving.

He’d pinned the dress’ knee-length sleeves to its skirt some time ago, insisting that he needed to see where they would overlay with…well, he wouldn’t tell her with what exactly. 

Tav, frowning at his sharp command, hadn’t even noticed that she’d tried to roll back her shoulders, instinctively wanting to ease the dull ache in her joints. 

“And no peeking.” 

How had Astarion even known that she was glancing down at his silver locks when he was still re-pinning and inspecting the hem of her sleeve?

“Sorry,” Tav said, a tad too meekly to be considered honest as she ironed out her slouching shoulders.

Astarion acknowledged her with a huff, but that was more than enough for Tav. Wherever the Vampire’s mind had been wandering for the past hours, he was now back in the same room with her. 

She would not let him go again.

“How much longer must I suffer, heart of my heart? My feet are getting so, so tired,” Tav pouted, accentuating her misery with a deep sigh. “I don’t think I can stand like this for another moment.”

It only took a heartbeat for Astarion’s busy hands to pause in their movement.

Tav allowed herself a triumphant, albeit small grin. If there was one thing Astarion couldn’t endure these days, it was her discomfort.

“Another moment is all I need, love. Promised.” 

“I would so love to believe that, but you said the same thing at least three moments ago, you big old liar.”

Astarion scoffed, although Tav could hear a small grin of his own in his voice.

“Darling, it’s not my fault that I have to alter this dress every other damn week.”

Now, Tav let out a peeved laugh. The nerve of this man! 

“It is, though!”

“Well, kind of,” Astarion admitted sheepishly. “Maybe?” 

“Surely! Half of it is, at the very least.”

Astarion’s hands began picking at her skirts again. “Haven’t we already established that that was an accident?” 

“You really are shameless, Astarion, truly,” Tav shook her head, the grin on her face widening. 

How she wished she could see his face now! She could almost picture the way his eyebrows were knitted together, trying to hide his embarrassment behind a mask of concentration. 

The dull ache in her spine was all she needed to decide that she’d earned herself that very sight of him. A look wouldn’t hurt, would it?

Slowly, Tav lowered her eyes, glancing down at Astarion through her eyelashes. 

The bodice of her dress was ivory, she couldn’t help but notice entirely against her will; or a gentle cream. Maybe a very pale grey? It was already hard to tell in the growing half-light… 

Tav bit her lip. She hadn’t meant to peek at the dress, really; she just couldn’t help it. And it wasn’t her fault that she could see past the crown of Astarion’s curly head. Or that she noticed the golden thread he pulled through her skirts, sewing on…a pearl? A crystal? It was something shiny for sure, but what? 

Tav craned her neck, trying to get a better look at—

“Eyes up, damn you!” Astarion cried as he tilted his head back, catching her in the very act of gawking at as much of her dress as she could catch. “I swear I’ll have you blindfolded again.” 

Tav’s eyes darted back up, pointing obediently towards the useless mirror as if they’d never left it to begin with.

“Oh, don’t you threaten me with a good time, darling,” Tav sighed dramatically, trying to make light of the way her heart raced. 

“Let’s see if you’re this cheeky later tonight, shall we, pet?” 

“That could be arranged—if you’re on your knees like this again…”

“Tempting. Very tempting indeed,” Astarion purred, his hand vanishing under her skirts without warning. 

His nimble fingers trailed up from her ankle towards her knee, splaying out across the back of her thigh as he gently tugged her leg against his chest. 

Tav gasped. 

She didn’t dare another peek at him but was sure he was still looking up at her, face half buried in her skirts. The image inside her head expelled any lingering sense of her earlier fatigue. 

“But let’s finish this first, alright? It really won’t be long now—you think you can endure your plight for a bit longer, you poor thing?”

Tav swallowed. This time, it was her turn to hide her embarrassment as she tried to look absorbed in the little dust particles floating through the day’s fading light. 

“I suppose I can. But only because it’s you.” 

“Good girl,” Astarion nodded approvingly against her shin before he withdrew, his hands taking up their work outside her skirts anew. 

As it turned out, Astarion did keep his word this time. 

It didn’t take very much longer until Tav could feel one final tug at her sleeve. A moment later, Astarion shook out her skirts one final time before he rose to his full height in front of her. 

He unfastened the pincushion from around his wrist as he considered Tav from head to toe, circling her to examine his work.

“That should do,” he announced, coming to a halt behind her. “Close your eyes, love.”

Just like he always did, Astarion made to unfasten the lacing of Tav’s bodice. 

Unlike the other times, though, she turned around before his fingers could hook under the lacing on her back; her arms came up to protectively wrap around her middle. 

Astarion raised an eyebrow at her.

“What is it?” 

“I want to see it.”

A deep frown settled between Astarion’s eyes as he slowly stepped behind her once again.

As if it were a dance, Tav turned to face him once more. 

Astarion ran his hand through his hair, his crimson eyes searching hers as he tried to make sense of her silly game.

“You know why it’s called a wedding dress, my sweet? Because it’s worn on your wedding day— and that’s the day you’re going to see it.” 

“Well, I’m wearing it right now,” Tav established with a shrug, earning herself a puzzled look from her lover.

Fiancé. 

“What?” asked Tav. “We could be wed in a moment. Or three, considering you haven’t done your hair yet. The courthouse is right around the corner.” 

Astarion, clearly surprised by her sudden proposal, opened his mouth, exposing his fangs for but a second before he pressed his lips into a thin line. 

“All these months of wedding planning just to get it over with in one short moment?” He asked calmly. There was no bite in his voice, just honest curiosity. 

A little smile stole onto Tav’s lips.

“I would’ve married you in the half-hour between having my back blown out and breakfast this morning, if you’d let me. Or yesterday. Or the day before. Better yet—the day before that. A lifetime ago…” 

By the way his lips tenderly began to mirror her own, she could tell that it was decided. 

Astarion would be her husband by morning. 

But the pale elf was nothing if not a tease.

Taking a step towards Tav, his hand came up to her low neckline, fiddling with a detail Tav didn’t dare peek at—not under his intense crimson gaze.  

“Why so impatient all of a sudden, dearest?” 

Even while standing on the little step stool Tav had to raise her eyes to admire his beautiful face—the same face she wanted to look upon until the end of her days. 

“I’m exhausted, Astarion. And maybe I’m even scared that time’s running out,” Tav murmured, putting into words what had troubled her for the past weeks as her hand reached for his. In an instant, his fingers intertwined with hers. “And I really don’t want to labour through another dress fitting, now that it’s getting all serious…” 

Astarion pretended to look wounded as his thumb brushed over the back of her hand.

“Darling, and here I was thinking that we were already quite serious before our little accident.” 

It was true—Tav had already put a ring on the Vampire’s finger a good decade ago, allowing them to not only spend their nights but days together. 

There’d never been any need to rush to get married until now.

The Sunwalker’s Gift caught the fleeting daylight as Astarion raised his other hand to cup her cheek. 

He considered her for a moment as she leaned into his touch.

“Are you sure?”

Tav only nodded once.

“Always been,” she whispered without any hesitation before she pressed a kiss to the palm of his hand. “And my feet are literally killing me. My spine, too. And, gods, my shoulders—”

Tav’s moaning was interrupted by a quick peck on her lips. The tip of Astarion’s nose brushed against hers as he pulled back just enough to look at the blush on her face. 

“We can’t have that, can we?” 

“Absolutely not.”

Astarion nodded understandingly, his hand moving from her cheek down her shoulders, along the long sleeves of her dress. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he lifted her off the little stool, hugging Tav against him for a moment longer than necessary. 

“Time for your wedding gift, then,” he whispered in her ear before he set her gently down on her feet in front of the mirror. 

“Will you close your eyes one last time, love?”

Tav let out a delighted little laugh as she squeezed her eyes shut—this time she really wouldn’t sneak a look. 

The heavy cotton sheet that had covered the tall mirror for months fell to the floor with a thud. 

“You may look now,” Astarion said, his hand still lingering —trembling?— on her hip.

Tav’s wedding gown was unlike anything she’d ever seen.

Not knowing where to look first, she gaped at the tiny crystals sewn along her neckline as they caught the light of the golden hour fading into shades of blue. 

Brilliant embroidery shot down her batwing sleeves like silver linings, naturally guiding her gaze down to her skirts.

“Oh,” Tav breathed, watching the lonely form in the mirror brushing her fingertips over the starlit skirts cascading down her swollen belly like water.

Golden threads brought pearls and crystals together in the most breathtaking constellations, making Tav think of the few fleeting moments between night and daybreak when the sky is at its softest periwinkle, kissed by the gentle fingers of the morning sun. 

“Well,” Astarion cleared his throat. “I wanted it to be unforgettable, but since you’d other plans…”

Dumbstruck, Tav could only tear her eyes from her reflection because she needed to see the man who had created all of this. What would she give right then to watch him stand next to her in the mirror?

“Astarion—” was all she could get out before the first tears began streaming down her face. “It is—it really is unforgettable!” 

Astarions pulled her back against his chest, his chin resting atop her head as he urged Tav to look back in the mirror.

“Oh, don’t mention it,” he purred against her dark hair. “It’s just some fabric wrapped around my entire world.” 

Tav hiccuped up a laugh, leaning back into Astarion. Maybe it was the tears, or the standing up all day, the babe growing inside her or just the dizzying feeling of profound happiness, but she didn’t quite trust her balance.

“Would you look at my swooning little bride,” Astarion grinned as he turned her to take her in, his hand unwilling to stray from her waist.

“Do you like it?”

Tav nodded vehemently, accentuating the truth of it with more tears.

“But I don’t have your gift ready yet, I’m afraid,” she pouted as Astarion tugged some loose strands of hair behind her pointy ears.

“No hurry, my heart,” he said, wishing with all his undead heart that he could see himself standing beside his bride in the mirror, caressing her ever-growing belly that had been so tedious to work with. Maybe one day he would. “Unlike you, I’m patience incarnate; I can wait a moment longer. Or however many more moments that little accident of ours may need.” Tav dared to stand up on her toes and pressed a lingering kiss against Astarion’s lips. “Let’s go show off this masterpiece of a dress in the meantime?” Astarion grinned as he beheld Tav lifting her skirts so that she could get a better look at a section of embroidery he’d laboured over for weeks. He wouldn’t tell her that her happy smile was the very thing that made her dress shine—that knowledge was his selfish little present to himself. “Why, darling, that’s a gift I'll gladly accept for now.”

[metmuseum]

[Countess de Castiglione as Elvira at the Cheval Glass]. 1861–67. Credit line: Gilman Collection, Gift of The Howard Gilman Foundation, 2005 https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/285701

[loveshotzz]

POSTED

🌇 chapter four <-

(older!eddie manip by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple )

The Masterlist / The Playlist / The Tune:

This is the chapter that sparked it all 🧡 So in honor of that, a snippet below the cut. (Enjoy the little easter egg of older!eddie from @carolmunson ‘s Orange Colored Sky 😉)

The string lights of his front porch catch in your sight while the sounds of Eddie Money echo down the quiet hitting your ears. He was home, but he wasn’t alone.

You slow your pace when you get close enough to smell the smoke of his cigar, and hear the deep baritone of his full belly laugh. Another voice chimes in, it’s raspier, darker and definitely not a woman’s. The unruly pang of jealousy that hits your gut subsides when you reach your apartment and he finally comes into view.

His hair is messier than you’ve ever seen it, the gray and honey highlights sticking out at the ends like he’s spent the whole night running those big hands through it. His cheeks are flushed with what looks like the end of a fun day with friends, a half smoked cigar tucked between his teeth that show themselves in a wide grin for the man sitting on his porch steps next to him.

He leans on the top step by his elbows, your thighs pressing together when the silver chain that’s usually hidden under his shirt swings over the soft blue tee that fits tight across chest when he laughs again. His cream jeans are loose fitting, stretching at his thighs with dark gray house slippers on his feet.

The guy next to him is not who you’d expect to find, he looks around the same age, gray streaks shining under the porch light in the dark curls that rest tied back in a loose low hanging bun. His chocolate eyes shine with excitement while ring and tattoo covered hands gesture wildly with his story, the ash at the end of his cigar is dangerously close to falling onto the wood of the porch.

Steve picks up the ashtray between the two glasses of a dark liquor like it’s second nature, lifting it up for his friend, making you notice the silver chain that dangles around his wrist when he takes the offering. He’s dressed in all black, a contrast to the light colors of Steve’s wardrobe with a pressed Judas Priest band tee that sits half tucked into the tops of his Chino shorts that fall right above his knee. Black socks and black slides covering his feet.

Bandit’s the first to notice you from his spot on the giant rug by the front door when you reach the gate. His ears perk as he sits up, paws dropping one after the other in excitement. A high pitch whine escapes him catching Steve’s attention. He plucks the cigar from his mouth looking at Bandit before finally following the dog’s line of sight to you. There was no getting out of this now.

You feel like you won some kind of prize at the size of Steve’s smile, lopsided with rosy cheeks pushed up and eyes crinkling in the corners. He sets his cigar down, ignoring the confused look his friend is giving him before sitting up running a hand through his hair making it stand on end.

“She’s alive!” He does his best impression of Dr. Frankenstein sticking his arms out in front of him and you see the man next to him grimace before taking a puff and turning his attention on to you. Curious dark eyes watch Steve and Bandit go to meet you at the gate.

“Yes, I somehow survived.” You can’t help but giggle making the man on the porch shoot his eyebrows up. All the nerve you worked up on the way here is gone when your neighbor gets close enough to see the stubble you liked so much is back.

“I hope the Au Cheval burger helped with that.” He breaths with a smirk, his eyes landing on the to go box that’s threatening to succumb to the iron grip in your hand. “Is that what I think it is?”

Too caught up in how his eyes seem to light up when he asks, it takes you a minute to register that he’s talking about the fish tacos in your hand.

“Oh!! - Sorry - Yes, I didn’t know you had company tonight. I have cannolis in my bag too, I don’t wanna interrupt anything - I can, I can just leave them with you.” Bandit jumps onto the gate while you stutter your words suddenly feeling sixteen again, the feeling of his friend's stare making you shuffle around in place.

Steve opens his mouth ready to protest but he’s interrupted before he gets a chance to say anything.

“Harrington! You gonna invite the pretty girl up for a drink or what?”

The heat rises to your cheeks as you busy yourself with scratching Bandit behind the ear with a free hand. Steve lets out a breath through his nose before pinching the bridge of it. His ears turning red like the cherries on the ends of the cannoli’s in your bag.

“Sorry about my friend,” He takes another beat before he looks up, his eyes smoldering against yours, hope hidden inside the golden specks. “I was going to actually ask you if you’d like to come up for a drink, I promise he’s harmless. He met his wife shopping at Trader Joe’s.”

[themonotonysyndrome]

Bound by hearts, not by blood

It's here! It's finally here! Happy birthday, darling @moonandstarlightsposts! DSJFBDSJ - I had so much fun writing this bday gift for you. Can you believe it? Before this, I've never written anything about our ladies - Kalina and Farah. Well, that changed now! I know how much Kalina means to you, so I hope I did her justice.

(This bday gift contains headcanon from a Redacted fan @/running-tweezers. You'll know which one when you read it.)

Anyway, happy birthday, wifey! I hope you'll have a wonderful day! And thank you @Broccoli for the fanart~

-

Summary: While unwinding with two of his friends, William Solaire is delightfully surprised when Bright Eyes crashes their night.

In scenes where old and new money rubs elbows underneath glimmering chandeliers, it's common knowledge that William Solaire is never without an attractive face at his side. No matter the event, a betting pool and a letter of invitation addressing the Frenchman go hand-in-hand with tongues wagging: "Have you heard who William Solaire is bringing tonight?"

They differ from time to time - flashes of the paparazzi's camera couldn't get enough of the Victoria Secret's model that was his plus-one during the Met Gala. His business associates at the Festival de Cannes flocked around; their inquires concealed by a barely polite veneer about the handsome actor clasping his arm. No matter where he goes, a man with a powerful sway in the international real estate market, a net worth beyond $1 million and air about him as if he steps out of a Renaissance painting, a spotlight will always shine on William Solaire and by extension, anyone he associates with. 

For the Empowered world, William's beaus never made it in the newspapers. What stirs every topic of conversation, though, is when the Solaire Patriarch is attended by two of his women. A pleasant evening can turn into a political nightmare whenever a Vampire King is accompanied by a pair of Old Bloods after all. 

But tonight, the world sighs in relief for William is with friends instead of bodyguards, basking in their company with vintage red wines on a silver tray.  A roaring fireplace lit up the leisure room, and warmth seeps through hidden corners. The chilly night air is Autumn's herald, but the three Vampires are tucked away inside a beautiful manor. 

"This is an excellent Pinot Noir, Kalina dear," Reclining on a plush armchair, William toasted his glass in appreciation. "Is this Cheval Blanc 1947?" 

Moroz Kalina, clad in nothing but a red lingerie and a pair of high heels, shakes her head. Her golden hair tumbles off her shoulders like a waterfall. The red marabou robe drape on her body paints an alluring image of the woman. "Penfolds Grange Hermitage from 1951. Thought you might like it." Her Slavic accent is thick and sensual, especially when she caresses every word that leaves her lips. 

As someone with a palate that had been delicately cultivated over the years, William raises his glass again. This time, to the Ukrainian Vampire for her immaculate taste in wine. 

"I do so enjoy these moments together. It's a welcoming reprieve from a tiresome day." William admits, setting aside his now empty glass. "I hope neither of you will take it to heart that I often relieve my burdens here." 

Kalina tries to shrug but can't because of the body leaning against her left side. So she waves a dismissive hand. "We have spent our years together for far too long to be petty. You need to complain, William? Then complain. The night is still young after all and we always have a spare room for you here." 

"You're cooking breakfast if you're staying, though," A new voice chimes in. The woman who has her head nestled on Kalina's shoulder yawns, shadows from the hearth dance across her glistening fangs. Unlike the two who had been drinking, she let the warmth of the fire lull her into a sleepy stupor with her legs tucked on the sofa-bed. In contrast to Kalina, who looks as if she just stepped out of a photoshoot, this Old Blood is wearing a tiny pair of black panties and a grey crop top that fails to cover her generous breasts; Simple in terms of sleeping garb but no less breathtaking when it comes to beauty. "I've been craving for something French ever since we came back from Champagne." Farah - William's second most trusted Old Blood - added. 

Kalina grins, lightly nudging her. "Did you not eat a Frenchman last week? Was he not enough?" 

"I meant food, Sayang (Love). I shouldn't have drunk from him, anyway. He was a chain smoker. That shit taint even the blood." Farah turned her nose up in a grimace.

"My poor Lady," Kalina coos. Her grin is then directed to an amused William. "There you go. We insist that you stay, William. It has been a while since you amazed us with your culinary skills. I am also looking forward to breakfast now."

"Then I best not disappoint. Do either of you have any special requests?"

The trio discussed the finer details of tomorrow's menu and compared it to what's available in the pantry and fridges. While blood will always be sustenance to Vampires, eating food is one of the aspects of humanity that none were willing to lose. Farah, in particular, has a fondness for the cuisines of the world. 

" - saw this one video from a Korean YouTuber. She made breakfast scrambled but the ingredients were Boujee. I think we might have the ingredients since I ordered some groceries from Whole Foods. I'll share the link - " Farah suddenly stopped rambling. Kalina makes a questioning hum when she detaches herself from her side and pads to the large window beside the fireplace. A cold breeze sweeps in as Farah takes a step back. 

The three silently watch as a body tumbles through the window in a mess of limbs and an oversized hoodie. 

A painful and muffled groan echoed in the leisure room. "I deserve that major L..."

William recognises that voice. He straightens up in his seat and with bewilderment coloured the low timbre of his voice, he asks, "Littlest one? Are you alright?"

Farah drops to her knees. She uses whatever healing Magic in her arsenal to close up the cuts on Bright Eyes' exposed skin - their face and hands. Bright Eyes roll to their back, making no move to get off the carpeted floor.

"Like a horse on Ketamine!" The youngest Vampire in the Solaire Clan declares with a thumbs up in the air.

William's eyebrows knit in concern. That becomes apparent when two of his dearest friends merely chuckle. He kept any reservations to himself and, instead, observed carefully how Kalina and Farah treated Bright Eyes; Frederick's Progeny and the ward of a very reluctant Sam. It's no secret to anyone in the Clan that the tension wove between those three is thicker and more complicated than any spider's web. No secret as big as a pair of young adults murdered by a trespassing Old Blood on home turf can be kept, so the grapevine exploded before William could even officially welcome the two new young Bloods. William would like nothing more than to step in, guiding Sam through a landmine of emotions (both his and theirs), but it wouldn't be ethical since he served as their leader first and foremost.

At times like this, William hates how the crown serves as his ball and chain. At times like this, he's grateful for Vincent's discretion and his ability to seamlessly slide himself into any situation without politics weighing him down. 

"Frederick is settling down at his own pace," William's Second Blood reports during a dinner together. William personally delivered a list of his Progeny's favourite blood type to his chef just for the occasion. Vincent had built a solid rapport with the young man, enough to be considered as a friend, and that deserved a reward. "He's thinking about enrolling at D.A.M.N; said he used to enjoy studying at his old university. Sam's probably gonna give him a crash course about it soon." 

"And what of young... Bright Eyes?" 

Vincent hesitated. "If they're not snapping their new baby fangs at me, they enjoy throwing words around like a flashbang. Most of the time, I think they speak English, but what do I know apparently? I don't live on Reddit or 4Chan's comment threads." He explained, playing it cool, but William felt the suspicion underneath. 

"And here I thought you're quite up-to-date with the modern lingo, Vincent." 

Vincent huffs. "There's modern lingo and there's thrash talk from the Internet. Bright Eyes has a Master on the latter because I can barely keep up when they start talking in gaming terms." 

And that's all William could get about Bright Eyes. A temperamental and wise-cracking Newborn with a hidden depth in them. 

Watching how wide Farah smiles as she carries a stammering Bright Eyes into her arms and dumps them on the sofa so she and Kalina can box them opens up a whole new perspective for William. First off: He had no idea that the three of them were close enough for Bright Eyes to break into their home through the window.

"Oh, Маленка(Kiddo)... while that was certainly more graceful than that time you tried to - hmm, what is that word? Wiggle? Ah, yes - down the chimney, what happened to the key that we gave you?" Kalina croons, her breasts smothering the Not-So-Newborn in a warm hug. A brutal combat medic on the battlefield. A head-turning 'ɡädəs (goddess) on the streets and Farah's Heart - those are the familiar labels associated with Kalina. Maternal never once made it into the repertoire, but here she is, lavishing Bright Eyes with all the comforts akin to a doting yet exasperated mother. 

"It accidentally fell into the toilet when I was flushing it along with his watch." Bright Eyes confessed with a dramatic gasp of air. Finally able to escape from the older Vampire's bosom. They didn't squirm away like William thought they would. Instead, Bright Eyes made themselves comfortable between them. 

"Aku lah... budak nakal betul!" ("Honestly... what a naughty child!") Farah retorts in her native tongue - Bahasa Melayu. Her smile turns amused as she perches her elbow onto the armrest with her head resting on her palm. "Vincent did something again to annoy you?"

"He came by when I was tryna helped Ricky study for a damned test paper - "

"The school isn't damned - " William can't help but mutter as an interjection but at the same time, he's too fascinated by Bright's ranting to stop them. 

"And he wouldn't stop hovering like a Karen in front of the cash register at Starbucks! It was annoying! I bet his orders are just like those caucasoidal femoids - "

Kalina snorts while William realises that it was a mistake to drink again. 

"And you'd think he took the hint when I dissed that he's 3 edges away from being a Sonic OC but the guy just stares at me as if he had a concussion!"

"And then?" Farah prompts. 

"Then I said the RGB lighting inside of his new car looks like a noob Twitch streamer set up so that was a major L for him and he ran to the kitchen but not before I pulled a Sneak 100 and grabbed his Patek Phillip." 

William blinks. Farah snickers. Kalina pats on Bright's shoulder, looking a bit proud. 

"I sympathise Vincent's plight now." For the first time in a long while, the Solaire King is utterly out of his depths. He had no clue how he should react to the verbal onslaught that came out from his Great Grandprogeny. 

Thankfully Farah takes pity on him, "Stick around long enough and they'll start making sense." 

"I... see." Well, if anything, William is quite good at rolling with the punches. Plus, nonsensical ramblings or not, he's not passing the opportunity to learn more about his youngest Blood, whether Bright Eyes acknowledges that or not. "Then please, treat me as your eager student."

William didn't miss the surprise flashes across their face. Like a veteran actor, a mask slides back into place to hide their minuscule reaction. William can hazard a guess that they thought he was about to rebuke them for making fun of Vincent. It makes him wonder if that is a habit of Sam's. 

"I-I didn't know you guys were busy," Bright Eyes stammers, clearly trying to figure out their footing against him. Their eyes sneak a glance to their sides, gauging Farah and Kalina's temperament even after receiving a warm welcome from William's most powerful enforcers. "Uh... sorry for crashing your pow-wow. You guys gettin' hammered?" 

"We invited dear William for companionship and good wine to celebrate his return from overseas," Kalina explains, picking up her glass again. It was still half-full so she threw another carefree toast at William. "He has worked hard for us. Our King deserves to rest his crown for a night, no?" She teases and downs her wine to the very last drop. 

William doesn't deign to roll his eyes but does refill his glass. An image of a curious kitten comes into mind when Bright Eyes leans into Kalina's now empty glass to sniff at it. 

"Whoa! It's like my nose being plugged by liquorice!" Bright Eyes exclaims. Childish wonderment shines through their nickname. A part of William - who suffers through turmoil after turmoil during the first few years of his Turning - is relieved. Despite everything, there's still some innocence left in his littlest one. A Vampire's heightened senses are a lot to take in, so William is glad that Bright found some humour in it. 

Meanwhile, Bright Eyes thrust their arms to the tray beside Kalina, making grabby hands at the wine bottle. One of Kalina's finely shaped eyebrows raises in inquiry even though the young Vampire's gesture is well understood. 

"Use your words, Маленка (Kiddo)." 

"Fine... can I please have the liquorice-smelling drink so I can get hammered too? C'mon, Kalina. It's a celebration, right? A party!" Here Bright Eyes cast a pleading glance at William. Though their lower lips wobble, a calculative gleam pierces through their eyes. 

William didn't verbally defend Vincent when Bright sort of bullied him. He can almost hear the gears running in their head: Just how far can I push this man who can easily rip my head off into drawing his line in the sand? It's a survival tactic; against an unknown threat, the best course of action is to gently push the predator - to gauge its reaction - and then pull back before it has a chance to attack you. William doesn't need a Seer to tell him that Bright Eyes will grow into a formidable Vampire in a couple of centuries with a mindset like theirs. 

However, Farah chose to interject. She rubs Bright Eyes' back. "Tell you what, I'm craving something sweet. We got some of those ice-creams that you like. Sundaes for a Sunday - what do you think?" 

Childlike glee overtakes cold, calculation on Bright Eyes. It's an endearing look to William. They sprint away, followed by Farah at a much slower pace. A reasonable distance rests between the kitchen and the leisure room so that William and Kalina can converse without having to mind Vampiric sensibilities. But just in case... 

"De toutes les choses que j'attendais ce soir, Bright Eyes a été une délicieuse surprise." ("Of all the things I expect tonight, Bright Eyes' came as a delightful surprise.") William comments, that tenor voice adds a layer of beauty to his native tongue. 

The three of them - William, Kalina and Farah - had lived long enough and travelled well enough that mastering languages became as easy as collecting foreign postcards. 

Wine forgotten for now, Kalina sets aside her glass in favour of eyes fixing on the door behind her King. "Ми з Фарах ніколи не мали звички відмовлятися від безпритульних. Особливо таких поранених, як Брайт." ("Farah and I are never in a habit of turning away strays. Especially one as wounded as Bright,") She drawls when her eyes turn to William, they hardened. "Ваш герцог засліплений своїм горем, спричиненим вашою принцесою. Замість того, щоб залікувати свої рани, він зганяє їх на тому, хто страждає від наслідків, які він не може контролювати." ("Your Duke is blinded by his grief caused by your Princess. Rather than heal his wounds, he takes it out on someone who suffers consequences out of their control.")

William can't refute that he's blindsided by her observation, not when he harbours similar suspicion whenever he sees how Sam treats Frederick and Bright Eyes. The difference was a cause for concern and yet... 

"Qui doit intervenir ? Le roi ? Mais alors j'abuserais de mon autorité sur ceux que je considère comme ma famille," ("Who should step in? The King? But then I'd be abusing my authority on those I considered family,") William closes his eyes. "Samuel ne se sent pas à l'aise de me voir autrement que comme son supérieur et le jeune Bright Eyes n'a pas encore décidé si j'étais un ami ou un ennemi. Ni l'un ni l'autre n'apprécierait mon intervention." ("Samuel is not comfortable seeing me other than his superior and young Bright Eyes is still deciding if I'm a friend or foe. Neither would appreciate my intervention.")

Helplessness isn't a foreign concept to William; it's an old friend even. However, it's been a long, long time since it came to visit him. 

"Семюель встановив свої кордони з тобою. Брайт ще ні," ("Samuel laid down his boundaries with you. Bright has not yet,") Kalina surmised, her beautiful expression vacant as she pondered. "Я думаю, що знаю спосіб, як ви можете їх завоювати. Цій дитині буде корисно мати більше людей на своєму боці." ("I believe I know a way that you can win them over. It will be good for that child to have more people in their corner.")

William has been wanting to dote on a GrandProgeny for about, oh, a century now. Alexis and Vincent were so quick to fly off from the proverbial nest that he missed how noisy the mansion could be. Hmm. Perhaps if he's able to understand Bright Eyes, they in return, will indulge his doting. 

Seeing eagerness dawn on William made Kalina chortle. She likes him like this - free of the crown, allowing the ever-curious and ever-hopeful man to emerge. 

William leans forward and laces his fingers together, a picture of attentiveness. "J'adore les bonnes histoires. Dis-moi, quoi que tu prévoies, est-ce la même méthode que celle qui permet de ramener un chat errant dans un foyer chaleureux?" ("I do so love a good story. Tell me, whatever it is that you're planning, is it the same method that corrals a stray cat into a warm home?")

They both can hear footsteps and chatter returning to the leisure room so Kalina playfully leans forward to whisper. "Після того, як ви забезпечили їжу та ліжко, на черзі іграшки та ігри. Тобі пощастило, Вільяме - Брайт давно не грався з нами." ("Once you made food and bed available, next comes toys and playtime. You are in luck, William - it's been a while since Bright played with us.")

The door swings open just in time. Farah and Bright Eyes return with triumphant smiles akin to conquers. Kalina spread her arms wide and Farah assumed her prior position, only this time, she's carrying a tall glass of crisp rice treat sundae with a generous helping of maple syrup. Meanwhile, Bright Eyes is holding up two sundaes. They hesitate at the doorway before marching towards William. The Vampire King is utterly delighted when they thrust one of the sweet treats to him. 

"Oh my, thank you ever so kindly, littlest one," William smiles beatifically and accepts his sundae. A familiar scent twitches his nose. "Vanilla ice-cream topped with lightly grilled strawberries and glazed in balsamic, what an interesting combination." 

Bright Eyes chooses to perch on a window seat, not unlike that of a spoiled cat. Their sundae is peanut butter ice-cream topped with salted pretzel sticks and garnished with slices of bananas and drizzled with honey - a dentist's nightmare. "Yeah, I saw you snacking on strawberries during that dinner party. Vanilla 'cause... ya know. Balsamic to match your Boujee vibe." And with that, they quickly shove spoonful after spoonful of ice-cream into their mouth to avoid speaking further. 

How is it possible for fondness to bloom like a field of sunflowers? Bright Eyes' silliness inspires William to write poetry about the early years his Progenies came into his life, including Sam, Frederick and Bright Eyes. For now, he enjoys how flavours dance on his tongue. "Delicious. I do believe I have a new favourite dessert." 

Bright Eyes let out a tiny smile. They bit their lower lip, hesitant about something - only for a split second though. "I heard you spoke French just now. I'm sorry, by the way. That's got to be my least favourite disability."

William's spoon freezes in mid-air, in between his gaping mouth and sundae glass. The man is too stupefied to speak. 

"William?" Kalina suddenly chimes in, currently enjoying being spoonfed by a doting Farah and the look on William's face. The two women shared a beaming smile before mischievous eyes trailed to him. "Would it be too much of a trouble to reschedule the patrol roster tonight?"

"Not at all. Do you want to take over tonight's shift?" 

"It's a full moon tonight. WonderWorld will soon come alive, yes?"

Bright Eyes notices the change in expression on William and Farah - a secret smile is shared between the Old Bloods and it immediately hooked Bright Eyes' curiosity. "Aite. Emergency meeting: y'all look Sus with a capital S. Too bad this isn't my spaceship or I'd eject the three of you." 

"You can't eject 3 Crew members at once." Farah is quick to correct them.

Bright Eyes stick their tongue out, the perfect picture of petulant. 

"You have never been to WonderWorld on a full moon, have you?"

"Nada. Why? What's happening tonight?" 

"A rite of passage."

-

Tony is 14 years old. But tonight? Tonight he'll be a man. 

"Here we are brats. Wonderworld!" One of the older teenagers - Noah - spread his arms like an expert showman to the abandoned amusement park before them. If it weren't for the moonlight, darkness threatened to consume the entire area. Standing underneath the street lamps alongside the second youngest generation of the Shaw Pack, WonderWorld looks like a scene taken straight from a horror movie. For the Empowered World, that isn't too far off the mark. 

Tony did his best to ignore the anxiety threatening to stop his heart. If Noah and his gang knew just how scared he was, they wouldn't stop teasing him. 

Noah clapped his hands - it was so loud that it startled Tony and his friends who were lost in their own thoughts. "Alright, listen up! The dare is simple: each one of you will sneak into WonderWorld, do one lap and come back here, got it?" The older boy explains, his eyes scanning the pre-teens that followed him tonight. He relishes the sadistic glee at their terrified expressions. "The only rule is not to get caught by Vamps. Simple enough. So, Tony, you're up!" 

Tony's feet take a step back before he even knows it. Two of Noah's friends burst out laughing. 

He'd probably started running in the opposite direction (So what if the older teens drove them here? He'll walk back home if he wants to!) if it weren't for his best friend clutching his hand. Rachel squeezes it before narrowing her eyes at a grinning Noah with all the righteous fury Tony knew that burned in her kind heart. 

"What? Why does Tony have to go first!?" 

"It's what we all agreed in the car, remember? And by all, I mean me so chop-chop, Tony. The moon isn't going to wait for your ass all night." Noah made a show of checking the time on his phone with a bored look. 

"That's not fair! Who died and made you Alpha!?"

"Fine, by all means, you can go first then. And just for that, Rachel has to do a double lap." 

"You son of - "

"It's OK, Rachel. I-I don't mind going first." Tony softly interjects. The thought of Rachel walking around in the dark abandoned amusement park longer than she has to scare him more. 

Some of Rachel's ire disappear like smoke. Concern knit her eyebrows together. "You sure? I don't mind going first. Honest!"

Tony shrugs, putting on a brave face. "How hard can it be? I'm just going in and out ASAP while dodging Vamps." 

"That's the spirit, Tony!" Noah cheers and roughly claps Tony's back. He winces. Noah's friends waste no time separating Tony from Rachel and the others and shove him to the rusty gates of WonderWorld. "Good luck in there." He sniggers. 

Tony gulps. He tosses one last look at a worried Rachel before steeling himself. He then turns on the flashlight feature on his phone and takes the first careful steps into the park. WonderWorld saps all the light the deeper he treads inside, and soon enough, the light from his phone can barely pierce through what's behind the vegetated-infested carousel. His beating heart is so loud even to his ears and that just adds more fuel to his anxiety. 

Because if Tony can hear his own heart, surely any Vampires could hear him before they even see him. He shoves that thought aside before it paralyses him. 

The carousel marks the entrance and only exit of the park. So when Tony passes by a corner of ruined Bumper Cars and a broken sign that directs visitors to a decrepit Haunted House, he knows that he's halfway through WonderWorld. Feeling like he can afford a quick break, Tony studies the signboard in morbid curiosity. "Oh, I'm not going to be the first victim in any horror movie!"

The Ferris Wheel in the distance looms over as Tony continues his round. 

It's eerie, yes, but his heart gradually settles down. So far, his luck is coming through - no one knew just how many Vampires patrol the area each night but perhaps they're taking a break tonight? 

Tony is feeling good about this - 

 The rustling of chains nearby shatters the silent night. The hairs on the back of his neck stand attention. Tony's heart resumes beating furiously. 

He spins to where the sound is coming from, the brightly lit phone shaking in his grip. Sweat runs down his back when nothing but dangling chains hang from the rusted foundations of a fallen Roller Coaster. 

"It's just the wind..." Tony whispers to himself, his breath heavy. His eyes search wildly for any figures behind steel bars. "Just the wind... You're OK." Not wanting to push his luck, Tony jogs away. A tiny part of his brain is screaming at him not to make any noise against the gravel. 

Yet no matter how desperately he tries to silence the fear pumping through his heart and unstable footsteps, something is stalking him. 

They came in the form of heavy boots crunching on dead leaves behind him. A barely-there silhouette slinking on his left. A once lifeless wooden log suddenly topples from the water slide. The sound of it crashing to the ground nearly snatches Tony's soul. 

"Who's there!?" He squeaks, phone spinning in all directions with a paranoid, frantic edge. He can no longer recall where exactly he is in this expansive park. Is he close to the entrance? Did he loop around the familiar-looking carousel? And in the name of everything that's holy - 

Is something getting closer? 

Tony struggles to breathe now, legs rooted to the ground. His mind all but scrambled, trying to come up with a rational solution: maybe it's just a racoon... a racoon that can shove off a large, rideable wooden log... but still! It's possible! Because Tony and the rest all heard of what Vampires do against Empowered trespassers - they got chased away.  That's it. 

So whatever this something is? It can't be - 

"Hey guys, welcome to episode 666 of my Minecraft Let's Play!"

Tony's scream was so loud that it could jumpstart the heart of every Vampire in Dahlia back to life. 

Against everything that Tony assumed, that something turns out to be a Vampire! A Vampire that's grinning ear-to-ear while holding up a peace sign. 

"Greetings, traveller! I am the pitbull of this park."

"Mr. Worlwide!?" He squeaks, words just flying out without a thought. However, that just makes the Vampire's grin near maniacal.

"No, no - more of the das kindershredder version. It's from a German bedtime story, you understand, right?"

Tony could only gulp. 

"Anyway, legend has it that once a year, on the night of a full moon, a fur fest is conducted right here in our glorious crack den for the rejected, the incels and most importantly, the fuckbois. You can thank Vincent for that last one. And since life is just a Bulgarian, you must be tonight's unstolen car."

Now, any sane person who knew better than to live on the Internet would think that the Vampire lost a couple of their marbles but Tony is many things - hypocrite is not one of them especially since it's his life mission to make a career out of his TikTok account with his Hot Takes™ about Sigma Males.  

"I-I didn't mind going first..." Tony mumbled. His face then pulls a scowl, anxiety gradually leaving his body. "Though, did you have to try and kill me via jumpscare? I thought you Vamps just chased us off!"

The Vampire had the audacity to shrug. "I'm just built differently, very Willed Smitherently." They then lean down to offer Tony a hand. The crazed grin dimmed to a more... humane smile. 

Tony mentally debates with himself, only for a few seconds. While he can't quite get a grip on the Vampire's vibe, it's best not to piss them off. So he lets them pull him off the ground. "Are you going to chase me out now?" 

"Nah, it's not fun running around this place while you can't see and there's a maniac with fangs chasing after you," While their voice retains that devil-may-care tone, a flash of self-loathing morphs the Vampire's face. As the unofficial 'runt' of the litter, it's like looking in a mirror. A sense of understanding and camaraderie starts to bloom within Tony. "Anyway, I think that's enough OSHA violation for one night - what's your name, kid?" 

"Anthony Santoro. My friends call me Tony." 

"Mamma Mias and meatballs. I dig it. So here's the deal, Tony - can I call you Tony? - Mr. Solaire said that we're pretty tight with your Pack, so any wolfy trespassers aren't to be harmed. So since I'm not in the mood to run around after you, how about we just chill instead? We can grab the others and hang out at McDonald's or something. You game?" 

Now that they mentioned food, a fright can really make you go hungry, but - "I'm sorry, uh - "

"They call me Bright Eyes. The most certified crack-concentrated Earl of the House of Solaire."

"O...K? Um, while a burger sounds good right about now, I - we can't just leave in the middle of our dare. Noah and his gang would never live it down if I backed out now." 

The Vampire - Bright Eyes - folded their arms across their chest. For the first time since they met, their grin vanishes. "Now would be a perfect time for an exposition cutscene." 

Tony delivers just that. Some confessions come easier in the dark and with a stranger whom Tony has a strong suspicion shares more than one plight. 

" - but they're too chickenshit to do anything to us whenever the Pack is under one roof. Noah's a jerkface but he knows better than to do anything while Alpha Shaw is around."

Bright Eyes snorts. "Yeah, no shit. I've met him. Alpha Shaw has enough male hormones to transition someone just by standing beside him. You know, I think your Alpha would've been fine even without a Mate. He has so much testosterone oozing from every orifice that he can create a son via mitosis."

He can't help it; Tony immediately bursts a gut laughing. It's absurd to even imagine the Vampire and Uncle David being in the same room. "Uncle David might look scary but he's really n-nice," Tony hiccups, rubbing his wet eyes. "But whenever he's not around, Noah would drop his nice guy act. Rachel said he once grabbed someone's wheelchair handles without even asking for permission! He then pushed them around the store as if he was doing them a great favour. I think he just likes the look on their face."

Rather angered, Bright Eyes looks positively ecstatic. They clap their hands once, "He's an Ableist! That's awesome 'cause I'm a Cainist! BRB, these pockets need stuffing." Without another word, they squat on the ground and crabwalk away. All the while muttering themselves about 'biblically accurate rocks'. 

Tony is unsure if he should offer his help or not. This has been the most surreal night in his life! Turns out he didn't need to do anything because their conversation had attracted more Vampires. 

He hears before he even sees them. 

The definitive 'crunch' of a pair of high heels on gravel comes from the shadows of the run-down booths. A new Vampire stalks forward. She wears a simple pair of jeans and a red blouse; with her hair pulled up in a ponytail, cheekbones and eyeliner sharp enough to cut someone, it reminded Tony of those Empresses from SouthEast Asia that the school printed in history books. 

Once again, rooted on the spot, Tony could only gulp when the Vampire studied him with a wry smile. She then turns her head to the side and says, "You wanted Bright to make friends tonight. Unconventional means aside, I think they did a good job, Moonbug." 

From Tony's right, another Vampire emerges from the darkness - boxing him completely. This one is a tall, blonde beauty wearing a tight black dress and a pair of strap-on heels. If the one in red reminds him of an Empress, this one has a strong witchy vibe. As discreetly as possible, Tony's eyes flicker to Bright Eyes, still in the midst of perusing the best rocks for stoning. Is he on his own then?

"Of course they would relate more with the younger generations. Their fire burns with youthful vigour." 

Every instinct within Tony is screaming at him to run, to escape. Unlike Bright Eyes, these two are Old Bloods. It doesn't make sense, though; the Uncles and Aunts in the Shaw Pack mentioned that Old Bloods are a rare sight in WonderWorld. They didn't patrol nightly but no one really knows what they do in the Solaire Clan. 

The blonde woman pulls back her lips into a sweet smile, her eyes half-lidded as she bends to get a good look at him. "Your heart is beating so fast, дитинча (little cub) or should I call you, зайчику? (little bunny?)"

Should he Shift? But Bright Eyes said that the Solaire Vampires don't harm members of the Shaw Pack. 

The woman in red shakes her head fondly. "I think he has enough fright for one night, Kalina. Let's save it for the others." 

Kalina pouts but backs off. "Oh, very well Серденько (My Heart)." She clears her throat and some of that intimidating vibe is toned down. "Introduction is in order, yes? My name is Moroz Kalina and this is my everything, Nik Farah of Perak."

The other Old Blood inclines her head in greeting. "I mostly go by Farah after the 18th century. You can't exactly remain a Queen after you've Turned." 

So Tony was right! However, Kalina continues on. 

"And I believe you have already met Bright Eyes."

"A-ha! This looks good enough to give someone a concussion!"

Tony warily scans all three Vampires. "Uh... do I need to introduce myself again or..." His heckles rise once more when Kalina laughs. Did he overstepped!?

"Thank you, but no need. We all heard it earlier. It is very admiral that you could keep up with our littlest one." 

Farah chips in next. "This is Bright's first time, you know; patrolling on the night of your rite of passage. We thought it would be a perfect way for them to make friends outside of the Clan." 

"I see..." But Tony's first question remains unanswered. "What happens now? If you guys aren't going to chase me off, do we - " He makes a wide gesture to the empty park. " - just chill right here? Does McDonald's do deliveries to WonderWorld!?" 

"About that," Kalina takes over the conversation when Farah excuses herself and goes over to where Bright Eyes is. Tony absentmindedly stares as the Old Blood wipes their dirty palms with a handkerchief, lightly chastising them for picking up rocks with sharp edges. "While we would never step into the affairs of your Pack due to mutual respect and friendship, we would like to explain Bright Eyes' proposal further. I assure you, Mr. Santoro, we will personally drive each one of you home and at the same time, you can enact a bit of a harmless revenge against those older boys that you talked about."

Tony's eyes widened, and her words bounced in his head. Revenge against Noah and his gang? That... that does sound appealing but despite how good of a relationship the Pack is with the Clan, he can't just simply trust a bunch of strangers! Rachel would be so disappointed in him! 

Kalina tilts her head, her golden hair falls over one shoulder. Her smile turns to proud. "You are not convinced. Good. That is a smart brain on your shoulders, дитинча (little cub). William! Come introduce yourself. Your words weigh heavier than mine." 

Tony's heart plummets to the ground when a very familiar-looking man shows up. He and literally everyone in the Pack will always see this man at every important occasion that Uncle David hosts. Despite that, his smile is the kindest Tony has ever seen on anyone other than his Mum, no one can mistake how power drapes over his shoulders like a cape. So no matter how friendly he is, no one other than the Alpha, his Mate, the Beta and also his own Mate dare to approach him. 

Because William Solaire isn't a man anyone can approach. 

But here he is, approaching Tony instead. In fact, a panicking Tony has no idea why the Vampire King is coming towards him as if they're old friends! 

"Thank you, dear Kalina. I'm so very excited to meet Bright's new friend," Again!? Just how important is Bright Eyes to have these Old Bloods looking like they're two seconds away from throwing a party just because they made a friend!? "My name is William Solaire. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"H-hey." Tony squeaks. What is he supposed to do? Does he need to bow? Would it be rude not to look him in the eyes? Thankfully, he doesn't need to think too hard about etiquette.

The King doesn't seem to mind his stuttering. In fact, why does his entire demeanour remind Tony of how his Mum would fondly flip through their family album? "Please forgive my presumption, as it is my hope that you will take up Bright's offer. Making friends is always a joyous occasion and I would like to foster that for our littlest member of the Clan." 

"Oi! I don't need a playdate!" 

Instead of getting angry at Bright's attitude, the King is as confused as Tony when he stares at them. "Weren't you talking about wanting to eat everything from the McDonald's menu earlier? A...  mukbang, I believe?" 

"...Yes." 

"How wonderful! I have Alpha Shaw and Beta Talbot's phone numbers here. If it makes you feel better, Mr. Santoro, you can inform them of where you'll be at all times." 

You know what? At this point, Tony might as well roll with it instead of trying to make sense of what's happening. Besides, any form of suspicion and anxiety evaporates when Bright Eyes jog back with every pocket on their person stuffed to the brim with that maniacal grin.

"You're hanging out with us? Lit. Quick question: how loud can you scream?" 

"Can I call my Beta first? Maybe a lawyer too."

-

Noah's blood runs ice cold when he hears Jason's piercing scream. 

That's the third scream now. The first was Tony's. No one expected it, really - you either made a successful lap around WonderWorld or got chased out by Vampires. That's it! There was never an instance where anyone needed to scream in terror! 

"The runt probably got scared and pissed his pants." Noah rationalises to the group despite the waver in his voice.

"Fuck you, Noah." Rachel spits at him and runs into WonderWorld without even looking back before the older teenagers can even do anything. Her sudden reaction frightens the other Cubs. They fidget, they mutter in broken pleas to go home; how quickly the mood becomes miserable. 

"What do we do?" Noah has always played the role of the leader - the unofficially 'Alpha' of their year group - so it makes sense that one of his buddies would turn to him.

"Everything's fine," Noah insisted, trying his best to calm his racing heart. "Seriously! Why are you all freaking out about it? No one from the Solaire Clan would be stupid enough to hurt us - "

Rachel's scream was as loud as Tony's. Just as terrified. 

Everything goes downhill from there. His friends scrambled into the car and tears down the road, leaving Noah, his own car and the remaining group scared shitlessly. He never thought he would be abandoned just like that!

"C-Can we leave now? Please!" One of the kids sobs. 

"What about Tony? Rachel? They're still in there!"

"Do you think someone k-killed them!?"

"They're not dead!" Noah snaps, startling the poor pre-teens. He grits his teeth; focusing on the anger is better than being frozen in fear. "They probably got trapped somewhere or-or found a dead raccoon. Look, I'm gonna grab them and then we'll leave. Fucking brats, can't even do anything right..."

"You're just gonna leave us here!?" 

Noah can't believe this is happening to him, betrayed and now bickering with a bunch of baby Wolves that are seconds away from wetting their pants. Great. In the end, though, they all went in together. It was difficult walking in the dark when everyone huddled so closely but Noah kept his cursing to the minimum. The sooner they find Rachel and Tony, the sooner he can call his 'friends' out on Tiktok. 

The light slowly fades behind them as they head deeper and deeper into WonderWorld. The brats held each other hands so as not to get lost, and Noah smacked the one nearest to him when he tried to grab his hand. 

"Tony! Rachel! Where the fuck are you!?" Noah's shout echo through the park. One of the pre-teens whimpers in protest at the sudden loud noise. 

No reply. Dread creeps into his mind and heart no matter how hard Noah tries to deny it. He grits his teeth and wonders if he would need to comb through the entire park for the missing kids. And where are the Vampires that were supposed to be on patrol anyway? There's no way -

The hair on the back of Noah's neck stood up. Someone is watching him. 

He immediately whirls around, only for his heart to seize in his throat - he's completely alone. 

"W-When did they - " Noah's eyes widen in disbelief and horror. Every last one of the kids is now missing. They were just behind him! He couldn't hear any footsteps. It happened so suddenly. As if they were snatched - 

"Yo!" 

Noah didn't realise that he had been spinning around in his panic state, eyes searching out for unseen threats. Only for it to pop up behind him as suddenly and silently capably by a Vampire. 

He sees the fangs first. Then the crazed smile. The inhumane eyes. 

"Alright, buddy, I'm going to shit yourself."

Finally, and hilariously too late, Noah catches a glimpse of a rock in the Vampire's raised fist before he's knocked out. 

-

Dahlia's Daily Dirt | OCTOBER 17, 2023

Is William Solaire stepping up as a stepfather?

Written by Madelyn Talbot, a Buzzfeed journalist who covers film, TV, music, and celebrities. 

Ladies and gentlemen, hold on to your burgers and chicken nuggets because the most desirable billionaire in Dahlia is making headlines again. This time though? As a potential stepfather! Yes, folks, this writer couldn't believe her eyes when she spotted William Solaire at McDonald's last night. Spoiler alert: he wasn't alone!

The real-estate mogul, or the man who is known to ignite countless hearts with his sultry smile and gentlemanly charm, was recently seen within the Golden Arches with not one but two stunning ladies in tow. And that's not all; they weren't there for a romantic rendezvous. Oh no! The trio was accompanied by a lively group of pre-teens, sparking rumours that our leading man may be stepping up to the plate as a potential stepfather for this beautiful couple. 

Eyewitnesses inside the fast-food haven couldn't believe their luck as they watched an intriguing scene unfold. Our local Romeo was all smiles in his 3-piece Armani suit as he held up a phone, very kindly helping the kids to video record their mukbang. Could it be that this heartthrob is trading in red carpets for carpool lanes in his limousine?

The two glamorous ladies by his side seemed perfectly at ease with the situation. They laughed and chatted, clearly embracing the mayhem that comes with corralling a group of excitable pre-teens. We couldn't help but wonder, are they the lucky ladies who have captured the heart of Dahlia's most sought-after bachelor? And the question that I'm sure you all are wondering: 7 children? Really? 

While the ladies fed each other fries dipped with ice-cream, our man of the hour was ever attentive in attending to the kids with stories of the latest Met Gala, and from the looks on their faces, it seemed he had a knack for entertaining even the toughest critics - kids with discerning taste buds!

Now, we're not jumping to conclusions, but could this rendezvous be the start of a heartwarming love story? Or perhaps, it's just a glimpse into the philanthropic side of our favourite celebrity, treating some lucky children to a night out. Either way, it's safe to say that this impromptu McDonald's adventure has left us craving answers almost as much as the juicy McRibs.

So, will our media-acclaimed most desirable man be adding 'stepfather' to his list of impressive titles? Only time will tell, but one thing's for sure: Dahlia's hottest heartthrob is stepping up, and we're loving every moment of it. Whether it's rocking Wall Street or at the golden arches, William never fails to surprise and delight us. Keep your eyes peeled, folks - this Modern Family saga: Stepfather edition is just getting started!

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TAGS: Dahlia's Daily Dirt | News | Celebrity | William Solaire | More

[SHOW 1K+ COMMENTS]

[strangestcase]

I like to think that, after the first transformation, jekyll mulled over the experience for days. he would reminisce of it, recall the immense pleasure and pain he had felt, the novelty of experiencing life as someone else, seeing the world with other eyes- and, eventually, he succumbs to the temptation.

he drinks the potion again, not before moving the cheval-glass from his bedroom to the laboratory. and after the pain washes away, he waddles on weakened legs over to the mirror, hastily undoes the buttons on his now oversized shirt, and he looks at the man the world will soon know as Edward Hyde, this time slowly, taking it all in, pausing in every spot, every feature, every quirk.

careful as if he feared he could break this new fleshly vestment, fingers trembling, he traces the jawline, the brow, the bridge of his nose and the curve of his lips, onto which a grin creeps. a low chuckle escapes his throat, rumbling deeper than he expected for such a diminutive body, and, suddenly so very welcome in it, he purrs his first words, eyes fixed in his own pupils, dilated huge against irises so changed.

“my. hello, you handsome Devil.”

[justineportraits]

Berthe Morisot The Cheval-Glass 1877-79

[amber-lucca44]

Albums 9/4/24 💕

Avenged Sevenfold (Avenged Sevenfold), 9/10

Comalies (Lacuna Coil), 9.5/10

Limitless (Tonight Alive), 7/10

Magic 2 (Nas), 8.5/10

Throne To The Wolves (From First To Last), 7.5/10

We Do What We Want (Emery), 9.5/10

[stablesowned]

They say that evil isn't born; it's made. Regina likes to think that's true. Some have come to believe that Regina's heart turned to stone after Daniel's death, but that is simply not true. Regina loved him but not nearly as much as the child that had been conceived due to their union. The babe was born & snuck to the stables by Regina a mere 4 hours after birth. Trust no one. Her brain had told her that the last time that she had intrusted someone, they betrayed her.

At the moment, her daughter left her arms, and Regina's heart became stone. Henry, her adoptive son for the past 10 years, had chipped away at the stone of her heart. It was no work of art from Antonio Canova, but still. As the curse lifted across Storybrooke, Maine, things seemed to be falling to pieces. Every carefully constructed lie came tumbling down around her.

Regina was currently on house arrest as leaving her home was filled with the anger of everyone that she had screwed over to get a shred of happiness for herself. But even her brief glimpses of happiness had always floated away. Every milestone with Henry left Regina wondering about her other child.

When did her daughter talk for the first time? Did she say, mama? Was her daughter happy? No one could answer those questions for her. Regina had invited the child that she mourned behind closed doors to her home. A glass of Château Cheval Blanc poured long before a flimsy attempt at an apology started. The girl had a spark in her. Regina could admire that. Because as soon as the "I'm sorry" was out, the other was sharp-tongued with her remark. Not willing to bend & accept something so weak. You have my strong personality. Regina muses to herself.

❝ No, dear, I thought it would be a starting point for a conversation. ❞ Regina turns toward the other. The glass of red in hand as she gracefully walks toward the other. In her other hand was a wine glass filled with sprite. The bubbles from the carbonation could be seen as Regina sets the glass in front of Ariana.

Where is my happy ending? Regina steps back as black heels click against her dining room floor. Even in times of stress, the Mayor of Storybrooke seemed to always be put together. It was a lie that she told herself to get through the day. ❝ I'm assuming that you have questions. ❞

Ariana had lived a perfect life in Mist Haven. She was loved by two parents, Maren and William Colter. The three of them worked the stables of Mist Haven, from the wealthiest families all the way to the royals. Life was perfect until her father was murdered at the hands of the Queen.

It wasn't long after the death of William that the young stable girl learned of her troubled origins. The man who she thought was her father the past ten years was actually her paternal uncle. Her biological father was also murdered, and his death caused her uncle's death. Ariana could only blame one person for their deaths: the Queen, @fallsheavy .

When the dark curse hit Mist Haven, Ariana and her adoptive mother were still together in this new land without magic. She was happy with her mom. She missed her dad, but she loved this little life she had in Storybrooke.

Now that the curse was broken, Ariana didn't understand why the mayor of Storybrooke was inviting her over. She didn't know the mayor personally, only that she used to be known as ... the Evil Queen. She was the reason her fathers (both her biological and adoptive) were killed. The mayor was responsible for all of the girl's heartbreak and trauma. What was so important that she be invited into her private home?

Anxiety took control over Ariana's emotions as the mayor apologized. Did she think a simple apology would fix everything? There was so much trauma. Wait —

❝ Of course, I have questions. ❞ She took a moment to collect her thoughts and control her nerves. �� You're trying to tell me that you're my mother ? But you're the reason why I grew up without a father ... either of them. Unless I'm missing something ... ❞ It was definitely a lot to take in, yet Ariana couldn't picture herself leaving the mayor's home anytime soon.

[dragonballnewstar]

"Sin-day, eh? How...simple. Dedicating a day to primal desires when they could be dedicating it to something actually meaningful. Perhaps celebrating the brilliance of a particular individual?" She mused, tail swaying idly as she sipped her Cheval Blanc, swirling it in it's crystal glass. A pleased hum escaped her smiling black lips.

Yes - a day to celebrate Shiverah! Truly a better use for their time than all this tasteless perversion.

[firespirited]

Jekyll and Hyde #5

dingy: filthy, the boat is spelled with an H (dinghy)

cupola: domed ceiling/skylight

red baize: felt, usually green (like what covers pool tables)

glass presses: these are storage cases for chemicals in glass vials

cheval-glass: full length framed mirror on a hinge

put a better colour: gave a better understanding

qualm: sudden disturbing feeling

by the bye: by the way

circulars: brochures, flyers, papers (post for mass consumption)

an M.P: member of parliament (elected official)

eddy: strong water current

ticklish: sensitive in this case

slept on the wing: talking about the fog like it’s a bird

carbuncles: boils filled with pus red gemstone in this context (h/t @manulpika)

imperial dye: purple

insensibly: gradually (i thought this meant “against logic” but it’s about dulled senses and numbness)

quite in your way: up your alley, of your expertise