Baldwin Montclair

baldwin montclair — centuries-old strategist in a modern skin. tailored lines, quiet menace, the kind of authority that doesn’t need to speak to be obeyed. philippe’s legacy made flesh, the de clermont who keeps the world in order through precision, power, and immaculate control. Mun and muse are 35+ 21+ muns only, do not interact if you are a minor. Common triggers that appear in vampiric blogs will appear here too such as : violence, threatening/intimidating behaviour, predatory instincts and blood feeding as well as hunting metaphors, he is a political operator and domineers the global finance market so expect : authority, control, manipulation, emotional manipulation, mentions of generational trauma, emotional wounds and moral ambiguity. revamped 02/06/2026

[montclairbaldwin]

// I think I am done with my revamp who wants a starter. I am familiar with most vampiric fandoms and as Baldwin is an investment banker and the head of a conglomerate you/your muse don't need to know the ins and outs and I can easily kick him into other worlds! find my guidelines , interaction guides and his biography for reference.

[montclairbaldwin]

💋 but it's lestat grabbing baldwin's face (tenderly) in his hands and kissing him on the mouth bc he's celebrating something...who knows what....he might be on molly

everyone sending ‘💋’ in my inbox gets a kiss from my muse.

"...and that is why if you foster....hello Lestat..." Baldwin was interrupted mid-talking about investing in infrastructure and specifically energy grids as should the investment fail the government would bail out what you own anyhow as Lestat oh so casually pranced over, that was the only way he could describe Lestat's sauntering and cupped his face to kiss him straddling him.

"Ignore him-"

"He gets like that-"

"When he's not given enough-"

"Attention" Between the amorous smooching. The attention seeking of a brat as if he didn't have enough fawning and pawing at him, no he had to disturb the only two people in this nightclub not making the evening all about him...and even then the discussion was in a round about way about Lestat.

Baldwin's arms went underneath him to shift him to side straddle him instead so he could continue talking, his fingers threading into golden tresses almost like petting an exotic pet. "Governments will bail out what they can not afford to nationalise and in my trade that's called permanent leverage, Christine"

"Congratulations on your MTV award by the way. I think I should make sure you get home before you do something stupid and news tomorrow are not of your victory" There was no choice about it, Lestat had been allowed to indulge enough and so with ease should he not come willingly he would throw Lestat over his shoulder and carry him out if he had do.

[montclairbaldwin]

// I think I am done with my revamp who wants a starter. I am familiar with most vampiric fandoms and as Baldwin is an investment banker and the head of a conglomerate you/your muse don't need to know the ins and outs and I can easily kick him into other worlds! find my guidelines , interaction guides and his biography for reference.

[chervbino]

Marius' Gift. The mere mention of his maker’s name brought a certain flicker to his almost dead-looking orange-coloured eyes. He stood as tall as he could, trying not to show how he really felt in the company of a vampire that old. Keeping his composure was all he could do because if this ancient one really decided to attack him, there wasn’t much a vampire of not even one decade could do. Worse, Santino didn’t teach Armand enough about vampirism and their kind. Santino taught Armand enough that he’d be able to lead the Parisian Coven but not enough to question the satanic ideology. Both Santino and Marius somehow tried to keep Armand in a bubble of blissful unawareness.

Armand didn’t blink. He kept his head lifted up high. A test. Of course, the entire conversation between them had been nothing but just a test. The younger vampire let his arms fall to either side of his body. Not knowing if shielding his mind worked around someone that old, Armand decided it was for the better not to think anything in particular. But if he were still human, his heart would be pounding frantically against his chest from fear. The way the man narrowed his eyes on Armand was almost unsettling.

It was only due to Armand’s strong will that he did not make a move upon seeing the other man lifting his hand. He was not being touched, but the palm came to rest right next to his head. The authority radiating from the other could make a weaker soul crumble and shatter into pieces. Armand knew that even an ounce of weakness could cost his life.

And then, out of a sudden, the ancient one shattered Armand. But not with force of violence but with words. A flicker appeared in Armand’s eyes, just for a brief second. He heard his old name and then the names of his brothers. His brothers who burned with their Master. But was Santino really the culprit behind it all? Armand’s hands clenched into fists, strong enough that his pointy nails dug into the skin of his palms.

❝Amadeo… I took innocents too.❞ His voice was barely above a whisper. Why did he say that in the first place? First Lord Harlech killed two of Amadeo’s brothers after breaking into the Palazzo because he had gone mad by Amadeo’s rejection. Their deaths had been Amadeo’s fault. Then Santino’s invasion… ❝He came to the Palazzo because of me. Santino came because of me. They died because of me. And Riccardo…My Riccardo…I killed him. I killed him with my own fangs. I killed him.❞ Armand gasped and released the tight clenching of his fists. Little did Armand know that Riccardo was not his fault. Santino starved him until the vampiric body couldn’t make out faces anymore. And yet, Armand considered it a testament of his weakness as a vampire.

And now? Where should he go? Was he free? No. He had nowhere to go. Why should he go to Paris when he could hardly speak French? It was the weakest of all the languages he spoke. Why should he go to Rome when Santino will have him killed the moment he puts his foot on Roman ground? He couldn’t go back to Venice because his home burned down.

Santino took it all from him. His home. His brothers. His Maker, companion, father. Riccardo. He took Amadeo’s best friend, lover, and brother. Granted, things in the De Romanus-household were a little complicated.

Armand suddenly moved. It was sudden, not as non-threatening as he used to move before. His lean, slender fingers curled around Baldwin’s wrist just after his hair was ruffled almost teasingly. ❝I don’t want to go back home. I have no home.❞ He tried to tighten his grasp to stop him before he would get on the horse.

❝Please, old one, whose name I was not fortunate enough to know just yet. Teach me. Teach me how to become. Will you teach me?❞ Quickly, Armand let go of the other’s hand again. He was sick of being a victim; he wanted to become a sword everyone would fear. Like this ancient one. Armand turned to the fourth horse. ❝Will you teach me how to become a warrior, old one? Then I put my knowledge of the Roman coven and Santino into your hands, as well as my loyalty.❞

[montclairbaldwin]

Baldwin who once was Lucius boasted many times that he had an ability many vampires did not, he could look at a man and measure his worth, he had been able to as a mortal, as a commander picking out recruits, interrogating prisoners, he boasted that he could see posturing much like he could recognise the difference between Spartan and Cretan armour. It was the sulphur on the bronze, and he took one look at Amadeo and saw...bravery. Rats can fight like lions when they are threatened in a corner, and they are far more vicious for they will aim for eyes and throat.

Verin spoke in his mind asking if he trusted the fledgling, if this could still be Rome trying to plant a spy.

-Good spies are intelligent enough to not be caught and those tasked with embedding themselves study their opponents, look into his eyes, he has never heard of us. Marius brought him to the Blood, Marius is gone. His duty...is now my duty-

-I cannot read his mind-

-Then there is use for him yet , I think he can hear yours- Baldwin could not be sure but he thought he could feel a presence in her mind but it could very well be Verin's rapid thoughts.

"Is that what the Rat King told you? That he came because of you? Do you know of the Iliad? A fictitious story of the machinations of Gods meant to entertain of course but Helen was just an excuse to launch a fleet. The Dardanelles strait was why thousands of men fed the sea their blood, control the sole route out of the black sea and into the Aegean. So I ask again, why would Rome burn a Palazzo so publically if you were the reason? No, it was Marius that chose his Palazzo, Marius who revealed himself to a mortal, Marius who was too much of a threat and carried old grudges. He could have lead the Roman Coven, did Santino tell you this? Placed at his feet...but he refused. You, gave them an excuse. But Marius was not some solitary vampire, they do not get to execute him and his life's work and not answer for their crimes.Maybe I will nail him to a cross on the Appian way and let his last hours remind him that loyalties run deep in true Romans."

"He will start calling himself Marcus Crassus the second any day now" Verin whispered to Freyja but they understood the anger, the grief. He would most certainly not erect a cross and crussify him but they let Baldwin speak his wishes for revenge all the same. If he was permitted to seek revenge, it would be done without mortals every knowing.

"Lucius Sigéric Benoit Christophe Baldwin de Clermont, my sisters Freyja and Verin. And you have a home, it is with us." He took Armand's hand into his own but not like a shake, like a forging of an oath. Marius' burden was now his burden.

If Philippe permitted it but Philippe was a man of honour that rewarded loyalty. Sanctuary would be granted, he knew that for a fact, allowing Baldwin to adopt him into the family was another matter for another day. "Baldwin will suit. Father if Philippe sees value enough to name you" And he meant that with the full weight of the word. Marius made him, it was his duty now to care for him.

"No, I will teach you how to be a man. An assassin, a politician, the sword your enemies fear, the shield your friends find safety behind, the nurturer that the hopeless turn to when hope is dim and the night is dark and full of a thousand sorrows." Old vows, that did not matter anymore but they mattered to him.

Baldwin gave Armand little warning as he picked him up and plonked him on his Fressian horse, a horse that had been bred and raised by vampires and thus would not be spooked by their preternatural nature. He had ridden many horses, this one would not win and throw him on the ground. He'd claim the other three as well, spoils of victory. The carriage would be set on fire as well as the bodies they left behind. Nothing but ashes by the morning and bandits did roam these streets quite a lot.

It was two hours to dawn when they stopped riding and they would take separate routes back home, it would take two to three weeks to reach Sept-Tours. Armand would soon realize that Baldwin and his sisters had rode three weeks and waited around for his carriage, how his rescue had been a timely and costly strategy.

"Cut his throat with this and feed fast" He handed Armand his dagger, so if the body was found it would be ruled a mugging. "No fangs on unfamiliar terrain."

"Take your son and go to the Inn" Baldwin placed coins of silver in a man's hand after knocking on a house's door. "You decided it is time he become a man. Stay for two nights-" he pushed the will of the man to take his teenage son and head to the Inn with more money than they needed.

"Find the bathroom and take a bath. Has Marius taught you to survive outside your home? Has the Rat King?"

[bleedingspiral]

let’s kiss with mouthfuls of blood to deepen our bond

[endless-youth]

it was at a high-profile fundraising event at the smithsonian institution (museum) that dorian had met a man named baldwin montclair — an apparent investment banker who was at the fundraising event because he was one of the benefactors, as it was, alongside himself — and if he was being honest, despite being entwined with finance, he was one of the few men he met in that field that didn't bore him. so, whenever baldwin clearly was trying to make a pass at him by inviting him to dinner that day at 8 PM (though he would be picked up by 7), dorian actually found himself accepting the other's offer to have a little date together.

but of course, the fact that baldwin had taken the initiative to offer to bring him somewhere nice did happen to play a part in his decision to ultimately go, among the reasoning that the designer found baldwin to be interesting; and thus, the only outcome that he ended up being able to envision to close his day was taking a risk to meet the man there... even though this arrangement of him being picked up then brought here admittedly reminded him a bit of his days as an escort. that was so long ago, though, that all it took was dorian telling himself once that this was obviously different because he had money now and a lot more choices as a result to rid that thought from his mind.

baldwin praising him for his sharp wit was just a bonus in terms of why his feet carried him all the way outside to the rolls that arrived at his villa right at 7:00. dorian ended up dressing in a white, black, and gold ensemble with black pants as well as gold makeup to match the accents on his bodice because he thought that it would surely be dressy enough for le bernardin but also not be too daring just in case mister montclair liked a more subdued approach to his dates ('but, truthfully, if baldwin was looking for subdued then why would he have gone for dorian in the first place?' is something the designer thought about in the back of his head). dorian had let himself be escorted into the private dining room then (fancy) as his white flats created soft tapping noises as he walked over to baldwin's table.

the compliment immediately had dorian smiling even more than he was upon seeing the familiar face inside of the restaurant, a soft and good kind of surprised 'oh' leaving his lips at the pulling out of the chair, him soon sitting down after baldwin kissed his knuckles. ❝ wow... i didn't know i was going on a date with such a proper gent. i can't remember the last time that someone pulled out my chair for me, but now that you've done so, i may just start demanding it out of every man; you do make it seem almost standard. and thank you, darling. you clean up nice yourself. ❞ dorian eyes drifted to the other's watch for a moment before pulling in his chair with a scootch or two. he tilted his head at baldwin's next comment, a cheeky quality to his smile soon creeping through.

❝ a fair condition. i'll make sure to arrive early enough to practice my 'waiting for you' look. ❞ dorian winked at the other before carefully removing his gloves from his hands, folding them afterwards before stuffing them into his bag. he hadn't even looked at the menu yet, but when baldwin mentioned the tasting menu, a look that said 'sorry, but maybe another time' formed on his face upon seeing caviar on the menu. ❝ ooh, i would love to, but caviar in particular is not to my taste. i think i'd rather just take the halibut ala carte. ❞ the designer decided this after looking at the dinner menu for a moment, adjusting his hair above his shoulders as he listened to the way baldwin phrased his arrival to the restaurant. 'relieved.'

dorian gnawed on his bottom lip, only to take a drink out of the water already sitting on his side of the table. ❝ well, although finance and fashion don't usually cross into each other's paths, i'm flattered that you'd want to get to know me anyway. there is something unique about you that i can't put my finger on myself, you know, and i'd love to pick your brain to try to figure it out. ❞ the designer rose his eyebrows up and down as if to emphasize that, putting his glass down gently, and tracing his finger around the rim of his glass at the question. it was a good one, dorian thought, but he had already answered it for at least two or three interviewers just that week alone... so he decided to switch up his explanation a bit, ❝ augh, really getting into the nitty gritty, are we? i would say i am attracted to it because the american west is like a classic example of reinvention, you know? and i have been looking to forge myself a new identity, so why not do it in the context of something that has been broadly mythologized as being all about a person on horseback with just their name and a horizon in front of them? ❞

he looked up from his glass before saying this next thing, clearing his throat, ❝ because back then, that was all the belonging you needed. so, my wild west collection is basically my way of saying that you don't need to wear all these different costumes that aren't really yours and 'earn your place.' you can simply exist because i think we were all made to belong to ourselves and that is truly the only home that matters. ❞

[montclairbaldwin]

Baldwin doesn’t interrupt. He never does when someone reveals something real. Instead, he listens with that unnervingly steady attention of his—still as a statue, but with a focus that feels like a hand closing around the back of your neck.

The private dining room is dim, lit by the soft amber glow of sconces and the shimmer of candlelight against crystal. Outside the frosted glass, the hum of Le Bernardin is a distant, elegant murmur. Inside, it’s just the two of them, the quiet clink of silver, and the low thrum of a jazz bassline drifting from the speakers.

When Dorian finishes, Baldwin exhales once—slow, appreciative, almost reverent.

"Reinvention.A man choosing himself over the roles he’s been handed. That is… rarer than you think."He leans back slightly, not withdrawing but giving Dorian the space to see the effect his words have had. His gaze is warm, but sharp—like he’s cataloguing every flicker of expression across Dorian’s face.

"You speak of the frontier as if it were a myth but I think you understand it better than most historians. Reinvention isn’t about escape. It’s about claiming the right to exist on your own terms."His fingers brush the stem of his wine glass, but he doesn’t drink. He’s too focused on Dorian. "I wanted to see the man behind that kind of ambition. The man who can turn a room into a stage and his admirers into investors. The man who knows exactly how to wield beauty without being consumed by it." And thus here they were.

"I would not say that's the nitty-gritty. The nitty-gritty would be to ask how has been a godfather changed your world view?Do you find yourself thinking about the environmental decline and how the overconsumption of resources will affect her in ten shirt years? I recently became an uncle to twins and everything I thought concrete has been turned topsy-turvy. Beautiful healthy babes, surrounded by a lot of love, makes a man think about the world they will grow up in. That is the nitty-gritty...but I thought start the conversation with something lighter, although more than pleased to get into the real stuff"

"Finance and fashion cross paths more often than people admit,both are industries built on perception. On confidence. On the ability to make others believe in a vision—whether it’s a garment or a market."He studies Dorian for a moment, the corner of his mouth lifting.

"In my world, value is created by narrative. A company is worth what people believe it will become. A currency rises because people trust it. A market collapses when they don’t."He gestures lightly toward Dorian’s gold accents, the deliberate choices in his ensemble.

"And you—your work—operate on the same principle. A collection succeeds because people believe in the story you’re telling. They buy into the myth you craft. They invest in the identity you offer them."

His gaze sharpens, appreciative and incisive.

"You and I are in the same business, Dorian. We manipulate desire. We shape appetite. We decide what people want before they know they want it.Fashion gives form to longing. Finance gives it structure. One dresses the world; the other moves it."He leans in slightly—not enough to crowd, but enough that the candlelight catches in his eyes.

"And when someone like you walks into a room, you shift markets without even trying. Patrons, investors, collectors—they orbit you because you understand something most people never learn."His voice softens, but the intensity remains. "Beauty is capital. But wielded correctly, it becomes power."

"That," he concludes, "is where finance and fashion meet. In the hands of someone who knows how to turn attention into influence." he would stick to his choice of the chef's taster menu though even as Dorian went ala carte.

[dollstuck]

"Nothing bad as in I don't want him dying. Being the reason he died. He's always chosen other people over me. I try not to take it personally anymore. It's just how he is. I just wasn't enough for him but now I can be enough for someone else." Often the child would ramble about her thoughts forever. Something a child who was ignored or neglected might do when they're finally given attention.

"And perhaps not as badly hurt as when papa dropped him from the sky." This felt like another betrayal but she couldn't find it in herself to feel too guilty anymore. "It took so long for him to recover. I was the one who took care of him. I always did and this time I won't be around to be his nurse anymore. So could you just hurt him a little and let him live please?" He was promising as much already but she found herself anxious.

"Thank you. Your mercy is appreciated." She said with a gentle nod of her head. "I'd like both. To shop around and have a personal doll maker. Perhaps they can make dolls to look more like me." She smiled. "I will feel like a princess then. It's what I deserve after everyone else has treated me like that of a fool. That ends now doesn't it?"

She hummed again pleasantly. "That's the way it should be. A girl should be her father's treasure." Sighing contently she nodded. Obeying his directions and indeed feeling dizzy but not so much where it was unbearable. Relaxing as she was helped into the carriage.

She tried her very best to do as he asked. Using all her strength to let the man send the message through her. Though she would know none of it she was deciding to join this man. In his plan and as his family. If she wanted all that she had to decide to trust him in this moment. Slowly she extended her hand. Offering it for him to prick if he needed the blood right this second. "Go ahead but please make this the only time you hurt me. Don't be like my previous fathers."

[montclairbaldwin]

He never raised a daughter.More than two millennia ago he became a father to a girl he never met, never got to hold, never got to see grow up carrying the banners of the Roman Empire ever forward to victory. Lucia was born and died of old age before he ever got to look at her beautiful face or recognise his nose on her, or even speak her name. He considered himself lucky, he got to hold his first son and take him for a horse ride around their lands, it was more time with his child than most the men in his battalion had back then.

Isabella was a child when he joined the vampiric clan but she was a well loved princess surrounded by doting parents and he had not been needed for care giving let alone a teenager stuck to forever be a teenager.

"How you are treated depends on the utility you provide. If you wish to be treated like a princess then you best carry yourself like one with the full weight of expectations, political savviness, diplomacy, forging of alliances. Heavy is the head that wears the crown-" To him it was not frilly dresses and pretty tiaras, it was duty to the land and marrying off to rival families' sons to ensure war would not come to these lands. They had very different ideas of princesses clearly.

"You will bleed a lot more for your family than a drop. But it is what family is. People that will also bleed for you. I have no use for a girl that trembles at the thought of a drop- not when I will teach you how to end entire empires with a single strike. Women are built for subterfuge, and you are only little. No one would think twice that you are a spy, an interloper, they will just see the soft little curls and the sad little eyes if they ever bother to look past the prissy little princess. And that is when you will strike"

She was only a young girl though. "Do you like horses? There's lots of horses in Sept-Tours, we could take a ride a few days after you settled in." Yeah, probably safer to speak of horses. "You will need the right dresses of course so you can ride side-saddle"

[chervbino]

Armand laced his fingers behind his back while he kept his stoic gaze on the window. He watched the clouds in the night sky as he tried his best to keep his mind clear and his expression neutral. Baldwin had become a close friend of his throughout the centuries. Armand witnessed that questionable obsession his friend developed for a woman called Eva. And Baldwin witnessed the brief and failed relationship Armand had with Louis de Pointe du Lac after the destruction of the Vampire child Claudia. Baldwin knew that Armand went to Lestat’s home in New Orleans to watch the younger blond vampire’s slumber underground. This was where he encountered Daniel. Daniel Molloy, the Gift Louis made to him. Daniel, who kept haunting Armand’s narrative. When you taste real love, you can never go back from this feeling anymore.

❝He does not take well to the blood. I doubt a physician can help. Last time I visited him, he didn’t recognize me anymore. He sits in a room, builds cities with all the small things he finds like insect legs or nails. He watches the toy trains that keep driving and driving.❞ Armand sounded calm despite the turmoil those memories brought him. He felt guilty that he left Daniel in Marius’ care, but he couldn’t stand it anymore. Armand was too weak to witness his former lover and former husband wither away. And yet, he still wore the wedding ring Daniel gave him in his mortal days. He still clung to the memories of their mortal wedding a couple of months before Daniel drank himself to near death.

And Baldwin was the only person he trusted enough to reveal how unwell Daniel really was. ❝Chances are high that he will never get out of this state anymore. Marius does the paperwork for Daniel. You and I know that he is unable to handle the estate for Daniel. So thank you; maybe the doctor you know can help.❞ Armand was reaching for every possible straw to get Daniel back to how he was.

The Vampire lifted his hands, looked at his ring once more before stuffing the long fingers and dainty hands back in the pockets of his back suit trousers. Slowly, he walked back to Baldwin and placed a hand on the other vampire’s shoulder. ❝Thank you for taking care of that. I know that I put a lot of burden on your shoulders. But I know you will let me know when I can repay you.❞ Not financially; Armand paid his commission fees willingly to Baldwin, but he meant that he would do Baldwin a favour or two if he needed them. As always, the offer wouldn’t expire. Even if Baldwin comes to him in the next century, Armand would keep his promise. The main question remains: will Armand make it another century without Daniel?

He took his hand away and moved back to sit in his chair once more. ❝You are right. I shall leave this place.❞ New York. It’s been a while since he went there, but it wasn’t a bad idea. ❝It’s a good idea. I will accompany you. There is a black market art scene I have to attend anyway. It’s said that the original painting called The Sacrifice of Isaac is getting transferred to New York. In reality, the painting was once called The Sacrifice of Amadeo. The replica is in the museums, and mortals think they are looking at an original Caravaggio. When in fact, the original painting was not made by the old master. It’s a mockery commissioned by none other than Santino himself. Commissioned, well, probably not, as he was not blessed with financial resources. The painting was supposed to find its way to my Maker. But instead, the Talamasca acquired it before. Not too long ago, they had a safety issue and many items they stored were…hm…stolen.❞

Armand narrowed his eyes at his dearest friend. A sign only Baldwin will understand. It was the non-verbal disclosure that Armand was not an innocent witness of the data breach. ❝They’ve collected information and stuff about your father and your family as well. Are you interested in getting back what belongs to your clan?❞

[montclairbaldwin]

"A physician can declare him non compos mentis and grant you or Marius power of attorney, not to punish him but to take care of him better. His assets. I might not get the point of your affection but I get your affection for him. If you want him taken care of and well, then we wil make sure he is okay and well. I still think you should get the island back in your legal ownership….but you don't so that is that" Baldwin might not understand why Armand allowed himself to do in so much pain over a mortal whose love he lost...but love was a complicated affliction.

"I have strong shoulders made to be burdened" Baldwin answered putting his hand above Armand's but did not squeeze it. It was how he took care of people he cared about, handle their problems. It was easier for him to handle it than for Armand, he was after all an outsider not being hurt by the thought of Daniel's declining mental health. "It will take a few weeks before anything is in motion, I will liaise with your lawyers to contact Marius about what needs to happen next."

Poor Armand. Always destined to be broken by love. Not exactly a stellar advertisement for it being desirable. Count the things you love in one had and the things that will destroy them in the other someone he'd rather not mention once said to him and Baldwin took that advice well as he found wisdom in it.

"Keep talking" Baldwin was intrigued over what Armand found the Talamasca knowing. "Stuff like what? Files? Weapons? How mad am I about to become with a bunch of scholars and thin armed archivists?" the vampire asked folding over his tablet case, some thin ground was about to be threaded on from him thinking them nosey little nerds that poked where their snivelling noses didn't belong to Baldwin thinking them something that ought to not be allowed to continue existing.

[soluksuret]

[satlun]

SEBASTIAN STAN as STEVE KEMP | FRESH (2022)

[missymusings]

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 

18+. sexual themes ahead. this list was primarily made to get conversations around kink going but like it says on the tin, context matters. stay safe, smart, and have fun. 

“ use your words. ”

“ don’t think i didn’t notice how much you seemed to enjoy that. ”

“ yeah, or … you could keep going. ”

“ ask me nicely. ”

“ you think i don’t already know what you need ? ”

“ don’t make me say it. it’s embarrassing. ”

“ got yourself into quite the predicament there, haven’t you ? ”

“ all you have to do is ask. ”

“ no … keep it on. ”

“ you promised you could keep quiet. ”

“ you don’t have to be shy. don’t i always make you feel good ? ”

“ trust me. i know how to make you feel good. ”

“ i’m all for your little pain kink, but you need to rest. ”

 " will you try them on for me ? “

” so that’s a thing for you, huh ? duly noted. “

” you bet your sweet ass i’m using this to my advantage later. “

” interesting reaction. we’ll be talking about that later. “

” maybe tonight we could do the thing you wanted to try … “

” this what you needed ? “

” say it back to me, who do you belong to ? “

” yeah. yeah, but it’s a good hurt, keep going. “

[ HAND ] for sender to clamp their hand around receiver’s mouth to keep them quiet 

[ MUFFLE ] for receiver to clamp their hand around sender’s mouth to keep them quiet

[ UNIFORM ] for sender to see receiver in a uniform for the first time and obviously get distracted

[ LOOK ] for receiver to see sender in uniform for the first time and obviously get distracted 

[ CHOKE ] for sender to put receiver in a chokehold during a fight and receiver accidentally moans about it 

[ CHOKED ] for receiver to put sender in a chokehold during a fight and sender accidentally moans about it 

[ STRIP ] for sender to change their clothes in front of receiver and receiver is noticeably flustered 

[ DRESS ] for receiver to change their clothes in front of sender and sender is noticeably flustered 

[ DISCOVER ] for receiver to discover that sender has sensitive  ” insert. “ [ now’s the time to confess your muse’s weak spots ]

[ PAIN ] for receiver to admit they like it rough and/or painful to stop sender from being too gentle or careful with them 

[ PAINED ] for sender to admit they like rough and/or painful to stop receiver from being too gentle or careful with them 

[ CHECK ] for receiver to check in with sender whether what they’re doing is okay 

[ TEST ] for sender to check in with receiver whether what they’re doing is okay 

[ THIRST ] for receiver to want sender really badly because they’re horny or have been teased but sender resists 

[ WAIT ] for sender to want receiver really badly because they’re horny or have been teased but receiver resists 

[chervbino]

Never had Amadeo met someone who was verbally sparring with him without getting annoyed by his constant questioning. Whenever Amadeo asked too much, Marius would scold him for it. And at other times, he would tell Amadeo to continue to be his ungrateful student. Sometimes it confused the young man more than he would actually admit. But here he was. In the presence of an entirely different man. His authority was a different one from Marius. Not more, nor less, just different.

And yet, it was not the authority, nor the (admittedly) handsome appearance that drew him, but the things the vampire said. There was so much wisdom in his words and a perspective Amadeo never considered. They spoke in metaphors, but that didn’t mean that Amadeo couldn’t understand what Baldwin meant. For the first time, he was offered the perspective that beauty could become a dangerous asset to have. Marius always made Amadeo feel like he was worth less and that only thorns, meaning fangs, could win anything in life. And now he suddenly was offered the perspective that a mortal like him with a bloom rather than a thorn was not completely powerless.

❝I shall admit my defeat on this topic, Sir.❞ Amadeo said, but there was no malice in his words nor frustration. In fact, he sounded delighted. Maybe he was not a bloom, maybe not a thorn either. But maybe this was not a bad thing? Who knows. The description the other used for him sounded not too bad. Being the hand that chooses where to place them. It meant he was in control and not just a pawn on the chessboard. Maybe this was the thing he didn’t want to be. Maybe that was the reason why he wanted to be a thorn so badly, so he couldn’t be pushed around anymore.

❝A sparring match of intellectual depths of life can only be won by a man like you, Sir. And yet, I am not sad that your arguments won this little sparring we had. It was very delightful, and I have to thank you for opening a new perspective to me. Who are we when we are not willing to learn from others? The moment we stop seeking knowledge, we are truly dead, aren’t we? I think this is a rule that will apply to all of us. And I have to admit, Sir, that your intellect is very alluring.❞

Almost a little daring grin appeared on Amadeo’s lips even though it vanished within a second again. The mortal intertwined his own fingers in front of him after he lowered his hand again. But he didn’t step back again as it would be appropriate. Amadeo stayed in Baldwin’s personal space for as long as the vampire allowed him to remain there.  

Amadeo watched every change in expression. The way those eyes narrowed while he spoke of the most interesting mortal he met in the last decade. Oh, Amadeo was not dumb. A few sentences were spoken, and he knew who the other was referring to. And even though Amadeo’s expression remained unwavering and neutral, it was his heartbeat that gave more reactions away.

Suddenly his heart was beating a little faster. It was almost like it was fluttering in his chest in a way he hadn’t felt in years. Oh, stupid little heart, behave appropriately and don’t find pleasure in these words too much. The mortal stood perfectly straight even when a dangerous predator like Baldwin, who could kill him so easily, leaned close enough to speak into his ear.

❝And so…❞ Amadeo started with his voice lowered to a whisper. Slowly, he turned his head, just so much that he could look at the other from the corner of his eyes. But it also made his lips get closer to Baldwin’s cheek, yet Amadeo made sure not to have their skin touching in any way. ❝...I wonder. How much disruption is a man of status and pride willing to take until he draws a line? Will the disruption survive the drawing of the line?❞

[montclairbaldwin]

It did not matter that he won, he most likely would win most philosophical debates as it was once taught as a study to any young man primed for senate, he studied all the Hellenists, he pondered about the world quite a bit. The only thing that was important was that Amadeo held his own...until presented with a different viewpoint, one which he would not contemplate. Stubbornness and a small mind was not attractive, men ought to allow themselves to change their stances when new facts presented themselves, to mull over if someone else might just be right.

"You speak of lines as though they are walls."

His head turned just enough that the faintest movement of air passed between their faces. Not touching — but close enough that the possibility of touch became its own presence.

“Men like me draw lines to see who dares cross them.”

He lets that truth settle — not boastful, not seductive, simply factual in the way mountains are factual.His gaze flicks to Amadeo’s mouth again, slower this time, deliberate. He did not need to listen to his mind, not when his heart and body spoke volumes by themselves, the war drum that played in Amadeo's chest, the way he breathed, the way he fluttered his eyelashes and parted petals just a little, a young man that almost dared to go and breach what little personal space Baldwin kept for himself but then opted to respect it, longing for the other to breach it instead.

“And disruptions…" A pause, the kind that feels like a hand closing around a wrist. "…do not survive by avoiding lines."He shifts his stance — not away, but closer, enough that the space between them becomes a choice rather than an accident, he slides his foot under Amadeo's one after the other, the soles of the young man staining thousand dollar shoes just to give him some precious centimetres when 10 of them stood between them.

"They survive by stepping over them with intent." His hand on the small of Amadeo's back, a pause as there is touch and to see if Amadeo's version of events was factual or if his friend would storm outside to threaten him to unhand his property. Vampires can be ever so forgiving of mortals dabbling in affairs with mortals but they did not share with vampires, not easily, at least Baldwin did not think Marius to be a sharer...but he would be wrong wouldn't he.

Baldwin’s gaze swept over Amadeo’s features — not hurried, not hungry, but with the quiet intensity of someone committing a constellation to memory. His voice softened, but the softness only made it more dangerous. He'd lean into his ear again, inhale the scent of his recent bath, speak his conspiracy for his current company to hear only.

"I will tolerate disruption as much as proves itself more compelling than the order it unsettles."

A breath, warm but controlled, passed close enough to stir the fine hairs at Amadeo’s temple as he pulled to face him once more…"Is it the line you are studying so intensely or the man who drew it?"

His hands held Amadeo's face and how delicate and small his head looked in large hands that carried sword and shield across vast distances, how dainty his neck when held by the same hand that once threw a spear across an entire formation, hands that killed so many holding something so small and delicate.

He'd kiss him, he decided. Not gentle, not chaste, a kiss as wilful as their verbal sparring match, a conquest, if he won then to the victor go the spoils. First right leaning then left, to decide which side he preferred.

"Prepare your arguments. Study. I expect you to keep me apace the entire night..." he spoke ghosting his lips above the model's allowing Amadeo brief reprieve to breathe. "Great thinkers allure me, the ones that see the world and all it's machinations." he kissed him again ferociously, the way a man kisses to conquer.

"You haven't even touched your cigarette" Amadeo said he wanted to smoke but had not even engaged in his vice.

And a third kiss, a parting kiss, grabbing Amadeo by the shoulders to easily hoist him off his shoes to set him to the ground taking out his phone to find him on Instagram, just Amadeo. No last name. Very artistic. Scrolled, scrolled. "I like that one-" he showed the specific artwork.

He grabbed the link to the artist that painted him.

From: Baldwinmontclair@Sigériccapital.com To:[email protected]

Good evening, Acquire me this painting by Tuesday. Deliver it to my New York residence. Regards,

Baldwin Montclair CEO Sigéric capital

[lightweightboy]

[gloomglimmer]

›       TENSION   LINER   PROMPTS     

"I   dare   you   to   try."

"Do   you   always   get   close?"

"You’re   pushing   my   limits."

"Stop   looking   at   me   like   that."

"I’m   losing   control   here."

"You   have   no   idea,   do   you?"

"I   can’t   resist   you   anymore."

"Stay   back,   or   don’t."

"I   know   what   you   want."

"This   is   getting   dangerous   now."

"You’re   too   tempting   for   me."

"I   shouldn’t   want   this,   but…"

"I   don’t   play   fair,   remember?"

"Careful,   you’re   testing   me."

"You’re   just   making   it   worse."

"You’re   too   close   for   comfort."

"Do   you   always   push   buttons?"

"Stop   before   I   kiss   you."

"You’re   making   it   too   hard."

"I   can’t   stop   thinking   about   you."

"I   want   you   too   much."

"You   know   exactly   what   you’re   doing."

"I’m   not   playing   games   here."

"You’ve   crossed   the   line   now."

"Keep   pushing,   and   you’ll   regret   it."

"This   is   dangerous,   isn’t   it?"

"I’m   trying   not   to   care."

"Don’t   make   me   regret   this."

"You’re   playing   with   fire."

"You   don’t   know   what’s   coming."

"I   shouldn’t   be   this   close."

"We’re   getting   dangerously   close   now."

"I   can   feel   the   heat."

"Don’t   test   me   right   now."

"I   want   you   too   badly."

"Don’t   make   me   chase   you."

"You’re   distracting   me,   you   know."

"I   won’t   fall   for   this."

"I   want   you,   but…"

"What   do   you   want   from   me?"

"I’ll   never   give   in."

"I’m   trying   not   to   care."

"You’re   playing   with   my   patience."

"Don’t   make   this   harder,   please."

"I   can’t   stop   this   feeling."

"I’m   already   in   too   deep."

"You   won’t   walk   away   unscathed."

"You’re   walking   a   fine   line."

"I’m   trying   to   stay   calm."

"What   are   you   doing   to   me?"

[lightweightboy]

[chervbino]

Continuation of the tale with @montclairbaldwin

What was time? A concept. Nothing more. A concept Armand has long lost. Starvation and the trauma of losing everyone he loved made him an easy target. But Amadeo didn’t give in without a fight. A fledgling of a few months in life took out another vampire by ripping that head off. His strength was there when provoked. And despite not being able to answer Santino’s pressing questions about ’Those Who Must Be Kept’ the Roman coven master must have seen something in the young fledgling who had ancient blood in his veins.

And yet, Amadeo, now Armand, did not make it to his new destination. Their carriage was ransacked, and Amadeo did not fight back. He was a perfect statue of indifference. He didn’t care at all. He didn’t care for the bloodbath. He didn’t care for the wrath of that ancient vampire who ripped Armand’s travel companies apart. Armand had spent the last years under Santino’s watch training the only last thing he had: his mind. He worked on shielding it, on forcing intruders into his mind onto a route he decided on, and furthermore, Armand worked on his resistance to the sun. The longer he could hold on to consciousness, the safer he was.

His long, slender fingers finally reached out the closer the unknown vampire was. His grasp was not threatening and soft. He didn’t speak. He didn’t think. Armand was a blank canvas in a very deliberate manner. Heretic. That’s what the old one was. A heretic like Amadeo’s master. Was he being kidnapped again? Armand wondered but didn’t fight. His gaze wandered over to the others this ancient one brought with him.

Marius. The whisper in his ear answered the questions he had. This ancient one must be a friend of his dead Master. Still silent. Still not moving. Making Santino pay for his crimes. The corner of Armand’s mouth twitched. Heretic. Heretic. Destroy the heretic. Riccardo. Armand’s mind froze for a second. He saw the boy with olive skin and dark curls in front of him. Riccardo. His brother. His best friend. The victim Santino threw in the dungeon cell of a starving, screaming vampire. He remembered the Vampire he killed for throwing the ashes of his burned brothers into his face. Amadeo remembered his Maker, his Marius, his companion. He remembered seeing him burning.

Armand cocked his head and finally decided to look into the old one’s eyes. His lips parted. Slow. Deliberate. His fangs bared even though they were smaller than those of a normal vampire for a reason Armand had not figured out yet.

❝Do not invade my mind, old one.❞ Armand’s voice was smooth, almost like it was made of the finest damask. And yet, there was a warning coming with his words. His mind, his memories, they were the only things he had left. And he wanted to decide what the heretic was allowed to see.

Armand took a small step closer. This man was a friend of his Maker. Marius. His Marius.

❝I am not broken. I will never be broken.❞ His voice was smooth. A warning, maybe. ❝And thus, why should I trust a heretic?❞ Armand stopped himself as if he wanted to push the indoctrination of Rome to the back of his mind. ❝You ask me if I have fight in me. And I can give you any answer you wish to hear just to ensure my survival, as you will kill me when my mind does not meet your expectations.❞ He spoke eloquently for the first time again. Just as Marius taught him, the way the Rat King himself despised.

❝You want to see how much fight is left in me? Then do it the Roman way and put me to the test.❞

[montclairbaldwin]

The air around them shifts — not with threat, but with gravity.

Baldwin did not move when Armand stepped closer. He simply stood, the way mountains stand, the way old gods wait to be named again. Wind hissed softly against his coat. The night held its breath.

Verin and Freyja watched from the periphery — not intervening, not intruding — because they knew this moment was not theirs. It belonged to the fledgling who had survived Rome, and to the ancient who had come to collect a debt owed to a dead friend.

Armand’s words hung between them like a blade.

Baldwin’s eyes — dark from battle, steady, impossibly calm — lowered to the hand Armand had extended. Not a threat. Not a plea. A boundary. A warning. A test.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, resonant, shaped by centuries of command."If I wished your mind, fledgling, you would feel it."Not arrogance. Not cruelty. A simple, immovable truth.

He let the silence stretch, let Armand feel the absence of intrusion — the deliberate restraint of a creature who could crush him but chose not to.Then Baldwin inclined his head, just enough to acknowledge the warning with a pause,there was a shift in the air. Something almost like reverence.

“Your Gift is Marius’ work. His legacy. His last act."

The world narrowed, Armand did not step back,he held his ground like a statue carved from grief and defiance."You say you are not broken.Good. I have no use for broken men.I don't need to push into your mind to know if you speak truth or not-"

The words should have been harsh. They weren’t. They were a recognition — a naming of strength where Rome had tried to carve weakness.

Armand’s eyes flashed, a spark of something fierce and wounded demanding to be tested.

Baldwin’s expression didn’t change, but the air around him did — tightening, focusing, as if the night itself leaned in to listen.

He lifted one hand, not to touch Armand, but to rest it lightly on the carriage doorframe beside the fledgling’s head. A cage that wasn’t a cage. A threat that wasn’t a threat. A promise of power held in check.

"You have already passed the test you still have will"

He leaned in, close enough that Armand could feel the ancient steadiness radiating from him — not warmth, but something older, something that had outlived empires. "I am not here to test you, Amadeo.I am here to take you home. You are a free man...go to Rome, take a horse, bend it's will and go to Paris willingly. The message is sent either way. They took my friend...they took Vincenzo, Albinus, Riccardo,Lorenzo, Antonio, Giovanni, Cosimo, Piero...need I speak all the innocents that Santino took?Amadeo was nearly one of them-"

It mattered to him that he was alive, Marius' legacy continued by Lydia Pandora and him.

They would get on their horses after Freyja freed the four that were driving the carriage, they'd claim three, one was for him.

"Follow that star for Paris...that constellation to Rome. Or decide that your destiny isn't in squalor praying to Satan but it is avenging your master's death." He was free to choose his own destiny. Baldwin's hand rested on Armand's head and ruffled his hair the way young boys were ruffled to annoy them. "If my Maker had been killed, I know what I would choose." Baldwin spoke getting on his horse. Horses raised and trained to not be spooked by vampires.

[montclairbaldwin]

// Lastly before I log off for lunch consider this a meme / IC ask spam call and I do mean SPAM. I mean 5 minimum so you can pick from a variety.