Rubistella - Tumblr Posts
PUT HIM BACK CANT U SEE HE NEEDS HIS TEDDY BEAR
he was gone for like 5 minutes afdkgmf
[1]
Sleepy Vampire Noises
(thanks @lassieposting for letting me play with this lol)
Flower crown 3/3
There are two soft nsfw renders available for “Jucy pie” tier you-know-where 😜
a kiss with teeth and a caress with claws
If the world was ending I'd wanna be next to you If the party was over And our time on Earth was through I'd wanna hold you just for a while And die with a smile If the world was ending I'd wanna be next to you
Spotify Playlist, @bearlydruid tags & @rubistella tags
"...Ansur?" Astarion looks expectant, a half-formed smile across his lips. "...What? Even Balduran's done that one." (for the smash or pass meme lol)
"You think?" Halsin had to laugh at that. The mere idea that Balduran had attempted to conquer a dragon. "Think he was big then?" Halsin was entertained by the thought. "You know......a dragon surely would be capable of making you feel small which isn't something I get to enjoy often." Why not a dragon, then?
I bring treatos! Or at least an Astarion/Halsin kiss compilation. I had to edit a bit around the naughty bits but hopefully it will stay up. :3
Halsin's eyebrow arched, looking over at Astarion as his gaze tracked the Owlbear cub for a moment. Despite its massive size it was tucked against Shadowheart looking just the same as His Majesty when he was occasionally seduced by a particular lap to curl up in. "He is impressive, but he barely has the focus to keep up with me during a hunt." Halsin worried still over the little one, there was only so much that a druid could teach him, even when he coaxed Jaheira out with them, the cub was still so young and precious. He was so curious without Scratch there to help ground him.
It was adorable when he came over to nuzzle into his feathers.
It took him a bit longer to get up off the ground, and he could feel the eyes on him. Karlach had started to get up, and he held a hand up, breathing in through his mouth and bursting the air out from his nose as he pushed to stand up. He was determined to do it alone, and he only swayed on his feet a bit. "Poor thing," Halsin chuckled as he gestured towards the door - knowing well that Astarion would make sure his needs were known.
"He should stay here, with the rest, where it is safe." Halsin decided after a moment. It was important to him that nothing happened to Scratch or the Owlbear cub and so far the Elfsong had provided the most secure place for them to keep their little pets safe. He knew that all of them felt the same - regardless if they outwardly showed it. "Ah. Can you grab clothes for me?" Halsin asked. The bloodsoaked leathers were going to take eons to clean them, if he could get the stains out of them at all.
As Astarion was grabbing his clothing, Halsin slipped out into the quiet of the hallway. He leaned back against the wall, trying to steady himself. It felt horrible to know he had been so blind. All because it was Astarion and his attention, Orin had been able to hurt him and hurt Scratch. That was the worst of it. The poor dog certainly hadn't done anything to deserve that.
“What cub?” Astarion blinked, mind stuttering over the thought, skipping steps as if the connection had simply been severed mid-track. “Oh, you mean that delectable little treat chirping about?” The very same Astarion could not even dream of sinking his fangs into without forfeiting his right to life. “He’s fine, honestly. That thing is tougher than it looks, and I must say… his mother tasted like chicken. But I’m sure he would agree.”
What with the owlbear’s propensity for cannibalism and all that.
Arms folded across his chest and the vampire shifted his weight, foot to foot, in an almost patient manner while Halsin lavished affection on the dog. It was a disgusting little display, tiresome even, all that tenderness and none of it directed towards him. Astarion’s eyes flicked upward, begging for reprieve with the spill of a sigh.
“Shall we go? I’ve still got a bath to take, and you, my dear, could use a proper rinse.” He let the implication linger, but the message was clear: it was time to get a move on. “We could bring the dog if you want to. If anyone tries to stop us, it’ll be dinner time for me.”
With a final shift, he moved as though already dreaming about those waters… or maybe that potential kill. Either way, there was hoping Halsin wouldn’t protest a cold rinse before their shared immersion in something far more comforting.
@bearlydruid
Halsin had different connections than Astarion did. He knew where his ancestors were from - he knew his own connections too, tied heavily to where his family rested beneath the Grandfather Tree. Halsin expected, when it was his time, he would go to ground there too. The way that Astarion worked at his knees was enough to draw his attention back to Astarion, and he nuzzled against Astarion's shoulder when it was apparently that the rogue was struggling a bit.
Halsin hadn't realized - or perhaps just hadn't thought ahead so far - that this might have been so difficult for Astarion. Halsin let an arm wrap around Astarion's waist to offer himself further. He pressed a kiss to Astarion's temple, letting out a quietly little sound as if to respond to the sound that Astarion made. "Astarion," He began quietly, wrapping himself close as they seemed to burrow into one another.
"Do you think that I will leave?" Which - he could understand that concern, if Astarion had never had someone to stay for him and to fight for him. What Astarion needs the most is that sort of endless support. Halsin can think of few better equipped to love a vampire than someone who will see his own version of millennia. "Do you know much of Druids, my love?" Halsin nuzzled in against Astarion's temple and his body took on the slightest sway.
It moved them both, not unlike a tree's branches caught in a soft wind. "It is true, I do not think I would survive as long as you can, however, we are graced by Silvanus with a Timeless Body - and I will see millennia. Perhaps still at your side." He could not see himself leaving the Vampire, not currently. "We may not have a pack, but, who is to say that the adventure will be done?" His tone was more hopeful - trying to offer up to Astarion the promise that this was not finite. That Halsin had no thoughts to leave his side, not as long as he was fortunate enough to have Astarion want him there.
What will you do next?
A question that pressed too hard, too soon, pushing him toward the verge of spiralling madness Astarion wasn’t prepared to face. Fear – gnawing, hollow – tugged at the recesses of mind. There wasn’t a place for vampires in Baldur’s Gate. There wasn’t a place for him anywhere, really. You were either wealthy enough to carve out a corner of the world, force the masses to bow under your command, or you were hunted like an animal– shunned, driven into the shadows.
The delicate flower in his grasp had withered in a game of love me, love me not, petals lost to some idle cruelty, and his attention drifted to Halsin’s knees beneath his fingertips, kneading the solid muscle there as though it might ground him, tether him to the present.
“I…” The words snagged in his throat, not ready to form. A crease of frustration furrowed his brow, and for once, Astarion wasn’t quick with his tongue. “I suppose once the tadpole stops shielding me from the sun, I’ll be back to hiding in shadows.” His voice was quieter, roughened with uncertainty. There was talk of Barovia, of eternal mist shielding the cursed land from daylight, but it belonged to some vampire lord, and the thought of getting all tangled in another web of deceit made his skin crawl.
Astarion shifted, letting the weight of his body lean into the druid’s, head finding rest against the rousing warmth of Halsin’s shoulder. His hands followed suit, tracing the sliced muscles along the archdruid’s arms before wrapping them securely around him. A sigh, long and heavy, spilled from his lips. Exhaustion carved every corner of his face, the facade slipping.
“As much as I love being eternal, I’ve come to realize... all good things eventually end. Walking in the sun, adventure in a pack... us.” The last word lingered on his tongue. It settled in his chest like a wound left to fester, bleeding quietly, steadily. Something that would never fully heal.
@bearlydruid
@rubistella **KICKS DOWN UR DOOR* AHEM. I will accept NO SLANDER in this household!! If you hadn’t told me you weren’t a native English speak I NEVER would have considered otherwise. You do better in my language than I do, beautiful soul
@rubistella is a vampirate. get it? :3c
The bursting seaside tavern is not Anne’s usual haunt. Misogyny and abuse have made a recluse of the fire-hearted young girl who had taken the taverns of New Providence by storm: years on and a woman now besides, she finds a good book is all the company she has want for.
Even so—Anne takes to the crowded bar, seeking to blend in with the rabble. Alone is a dangerous way to be in this port, triply so for Anne. There are rumors of a terrible pirate and his crew come recently to town, and though this port is friendly to the less-than-legal nature of such company, the standouts among them are still taken for example. Blown in on the breath of a rumor, any or all of it might be false; but even if this “terrible pirate” isn’t her, there’s danger. If the noose isn’t going around her neck this time, it might still be meant for Jack, or one of Jack’s friends. Anne isn’t sure which way would be worse to go: town guards keeping justice or two-bit pirates taking revenge.
Neither is the preferable option, whatever the answer may be.
Can’t risk being alone in the room, since that’s when and how a coward’s most likely to strike, and can’t risk cavorting around town now that she’s spotted her own wanted poster, the lack of similarities from image to reality be damned. That leaves only the tavern for safety.
Anne makes for the bar, squeezing between tight packed bodies and tables all the way there. Let the pickpockets take her lint for themselves: she knows better than to crawl into this rat’s nest with valuables in easy reach. She wedges herself into a corner of the bar and watches the room for danger, never once realizing that the white-pewter bracelet she’d pocketed for her own earlier that afternoon had made its way into the hands of another.
It wasn’t until she was done pushing the other fucker off of her—the one that had knocked into her, and her into the next—that Anne realized she was being spoken to. He was eyeing her up like a piece of meat when she tuned back in, talking of ladies and streetwalkers like one couldn’t be the other. A hooker or an idiot.
Honestly, she’s been called worse.
Anne tilts her head and eyes the elf up, same as he’s eyeing her, but a bit…slower. Only once. From the tips of his boots to the tops of his ears. His garb is almost as ridiculously ornate and carefully crafted as a few other pirates she knows, though the three of those are captains—and this one’s clearly not. Anne holds his stare when their eyes meet again. There’s a sharpness to it, like a shard of glass stabbing back at you through those pale green eyes.
““I’ll go ahead and assume t’be flattered, but…let me get this straight….
“You approach a stranger, tell her she’s either a hooker or a dumbarse, tell her you think she’s neither, and then…what?” Anne paused for a moment, looking at him in askance. She held up a hand to stop whatever he meant to a spout off next, choosing the moment just before the silence would become painful to speak again. “ I would argue…that it takes a hooker or a dumbarse to assume a woman, alone, clearly armed, is either a hooker or a dumbarse. Especially when pirates are in port.”
Anne pauses to let that sink in before adding, nonchalantly, just before taking a sip of her lukewarm beer:
“I hear Anne Bonny’s been spotted nearby.”
She’s baiting him, but not without cause: there have, after all, been rumors that she’s been spotted nearby recently. Very recently. They started today, about two hours ago, when she was evidently shopping in the market nearby. This is a lie, of course.
Anne was stealing in the market, and would’ve gotten away with it too if it hadn’t been for a former lover of Jack’s screeching her head off the moment she saw Anne.
@rubistella is a vampirate. get it? :3c
The bursting seaside tavern is not Anne’s usual haunt. Misogyny and abuse have made a recluse of the fire-hearted young girl who had taken the taverns of New Providence by storm: years on and a woman now besides, she finds a good book is all the company she has want for.
Even so—Anne takes to the crowded bar, seeking to blend in with the rabble. Alone is a dangerous way to be in this port, triply so for Anne. There are rumors of a terrible pirate and his crew come recently to town, and though this port is friendly to the less-than-legal nature of such company, the standouts among them are still taken for example. Blown in on the breath of a rumor, any or all of it might be false—and even if this terrible pirate” isn’t her, there’s danger. If the noose isn’t going around her neck this time, it might still be meant for Jack, or one of Jack’s friends. Anne isn’t sure which way would be worse to go: town guards keeping justice or two-bit pirates taking revenge.
Neither is the preferable option, whatever the answer may be.
Can’t risk being alone in the room, since that’s when and how a coward’s most likely to strike, and can’t risk cavorting around town now that she’s spotted her own wanted poster, the lack of similarities from image to reality be damned. That leaves only the tavern for safety.
Anne makes for the bar, squeezing between tight packed bodies and tables all the way there. Let the pickpockets take her lint for themselves: she knows better than to crawl into this rat’s nest with valuables in easy reach. She wedges herself into a corner of the bar and watches the room for danger, never once realizing that the white-pewter bracelet she’d pocketed for her own earlier that afternoon had made its way into the hands of another.