#❝ send in the big guns next time ! don't fuck around ❞「 vampire fight club verse 」

[troublewithvampires]

@yaksha-garden said: Sal also gets a sketchy bottle of homemade wine from Eden. <3

Salvatore wrinkles his nose a little at Eden, smirking as he accepts the bottle and looks at it curiously. There's no label on the bottle, and he assumes immediately that they made it themself.

"Shit, you've been holdin' out on me, shortstack!" he says cheerfully, throwing an arm around their shoulders and shooting them a sharp-toothed grin. "Thanks for the booze. Didn't know you knew how to make the stuff."

He gives them a squeeze. "Wanna drink this with me later and beat the shit outta each other or somethin'?"

[troublewithvampires-a]

//ignore me

[troublewithvampires]

@troublcmakcrs said: Craig tugs on Salvatore's sleeve. "Hey… I wanna go to McDonald's." (//having the "we have food at home" discussion with myself rn so here you go)

“I’m not takin’ you to fuckin’ McDonald’s,” Salvatore says without looking up from his book. "Doesn't your ma have something at home you can eat?" He glances at Craig out of the corner of his eye, gauging the kid's expression. "Or are you just tryin' to be a little mooch?"

He knows Laura Tucker well enough by now to know that she isn't just going to let her kids go hungry, and she's not in a position where she has no choice in the matter. Craig isn't going to starve if Salvatore doesn't take him to McDonald's--and regardless, it's not his fucking responsibility to do so.

After a moment, however, he remembers that saying no isn't exactly going to deter Craig. When the little shit wants something, he isn't going to back down so easily. And, as much as he may grumble and complain, it isn't really an issue for Salvatore to indulge him now and then. On some level, it's nice, knowing that he's someone Craig is comfortable turning to if he needs something.

That doesn't mean he's not gonna keep being a bitch, though.

"Y'know what?" he says, more a loud sigh than anything as he snaps his book shut. "Fine. But if your ma gets mad that you spoiled your dinner, that ain't my problem."

[troublewithvampires]

//after careful discussion with @yaksha-garden, i have created a very scientific relationships chart for the vampire fight club, feat. eden and several npcs i haven't introduced which exist just for this verse

[troublewithvampires]

Salvatore realizes right away that his attempt to brush Craig off hasn't worked, because the kid just smiles up at him, completely unaffected. He narrows his eyes in distaste, knowing he's fighting a losing battle by trying to make the kid realize he's being stupid and yet unwilling to back down. Craig may think Salvatore is cool, but that doesn't change the fact that he's talking to a dangerous monster.

Finally, he sighs, shaking his head as he looks away, upper lip curling back in a sneer.

"Yeah, the sparkling shit's stupid," he agrees, "but I don't really give a shit. The whole thing's fuckin' stupid. It's all trash, every last stupid fuckin' bit of it." Is he talking about Twilight still, or just vampirism in general? Even he isn't sure. The point stands regardless.

A burst of fiery indignation rushes through Salvatore as he remembers how cool Craig thinks this all is. That's why the kid approached him for the first time--because this is all so fucking cool.

He isn't mad at the kid, not really, but it makes him distinctly uncomfortable to have the worst of himself admired so openly. Craig clearly doesn't understand Salvatore's discomfort, but how could he? He's a kid. Salvatore can't find it in himself to fault someone who couldn't understand his situation in the first place.

He sighs sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers as he glares at Craig, though the heat is mostly gone from his expression now, if there was any to begin with. It's replaced now by a tired sort of exasperation.

"The point is," Salvatore says, "you're a fuckin' dumbass, kid." There. Plain and simple, straight to the point.

▸   @troublewithvampires   ⟶   ❛  "Unpopular opinion?" Salvatore rolls his eyes. "... That Twilight shit ain't trash because the vampires fuckin' sparkle or anything. It's trash because anyone who willingly hangs around a bloodsucker is insane." //said giving craig a pointed look  ❜   ╱   (  do care + did ask , accepting .  )

Craig does not miss Salvatore’s attempt to put him on blast with that remark and smiles knowingly, utterly unaffected by it. The guy is sick as hell, whether or not he likes it, and he is going to have to come to terms with that at some point. Craig will not be told he is in the wrong for being enthused about something so metal and hardcore.

“Yeah, well, nobody said Bella wasn’t insane,” he points out, showing that he intends to take the insult in stride and wear it like a badge of honor. “Edward breaks up with her, and she tries to kill herself so she can hallucinate him still being there with her.” He has never read Twilight or seen the movies, but he knows enough through osmosis, and based on what he has seen and heard, they seem totally faggy, not his thing at all.

“You’ve gotta admit that the sparkling stuff’s pretty gay, too, though.”

[troublewithvampires]

@yaksha-garden said: [SMACK]

(punch him. do it. - open)

It's around two in the morning, and the latest meeting of Bloodsuckers Anonymous is in full swing. The dilapidated apartment building they've chosen for this event is alive with undead monsters, cheering and laughing among themselves as they stand in a circle, watching other vampires beat the everliving shit out of each other.

If asked directly, Sal would deny actually enjoying these meetings. He'd say he comes for stress relief and nothing more. After all, even getting to break some bloodsuckers' teeth in isn't worth having to be around the annoying fucks any longer than he has to. But, well... he does enjoy them. He has fun, fucking sue him.

Like tonight. Tonight, Sal is doing fucking great.

"And we have our winner!" the announcer, a tall woman with a spiky mane of fiery hair, crows as she hauls him off of the vampire he'd just beaten into submission. "Everyone give it up for Two-Shoes!" The crowd echoes his name, and Sal grins viciously back at them.

"Who's next?" he calls. Despite the lack of blood in his veins, Sal feels alive right now, adrenaline thrumming through him. And it seems the others are loving every second of it. "Come on! We ain't got all fuckin' night!"

The announcer laughs, her own expression deadly as she rests a clawed hand on his shoulder. "Come on, you fuckin' cowards!" she shouts. "Who wants to kick this shithead's ass?"

This goes on for another thirty seconds, until someone actually does step out of the crowd: a short, somewhat slight stranger with warm brown skin and short, wavy hair. A jagged crack, like a broken piece of pottery, stretches down their face, which is currently set in a determined frown.

They aren't someone Sal's seen here before, and at a glance, they definitely don't look like a vampire. Maybe not human, but certainly not a vampire. Still, they clearly know what they're doing, and the announcer recognizes them. Her eyes glitter as she steps forward to welcome them into the ring.

"And we have our challenger!" she calls. "Soma vs Two-Shoes. Y'all know the rules by now, so I'm not gonna rehash them--just give us a good show." Something darkens in her expression as she watches Sal and the stranger square up with each other. She holds up one hand.

"Ready?" she says. Sal glances at her and nods, before he turns his attention to the stranger before him.

Normally, Sal isn't that cocky during the fights, but he's still riding the emotional high of his repeated victories. So, he decides to indulge in a little shit-slinging, see what happens.

"You can back out now," he tells the stranger. "I won't tell anybody--might save you a few broken bones." He's only guessing if the stranger's bones can break, but he assumes they will. "'Course, I'd love to kick the shit out of you, so-"

Before he can finish his sentence, the stranger lunges forward and punches him hard in the jaw. There's more force behind the blow than he thought there'd be, enough to snap his head back momentarily, stunned.

The message is clear: Shut the fuck up and fight.

Sal can respect that. Once he recovers, he grins down at the stranger, eyes wild with excitement at the chance for a real fight.

"Good choice," he purrs. And then he pounces.

[troublewithvampires]

"That all you got, babe?" Caulfield jeers after managing to block one of Sal's low punches towards their abdomen. Despite their obvious exhaustion, they're smirking and gripping his hands tight in their own. "You're a bit slow tonight. You getting tired? We can take a breather--you know the safeword." They lean in and blow a kiss in his face, and Sal bites back the urge to snap his teeth at them.

"Shut up and fuckin' fight," Sal snarls at them, baring his fangs as he rips his hands out of their grip before ducking out of reach.

Quickly, he shoots his leg out and sweeps their legs out from under them, sending them crashing to the floor. As they go down, they flail their long limbs about, managing to kick Sal in the face and stun him momentarily.

Sal recovers just in time, though, and before Caulfield can scramble to their feet, he pounces, slamming their head against the floor as he pins them to the floor with his foot on their throat.

"You need a breather, you rat fuck?" Sal says with a sharp grin, his chest heaving with adrenaline as he holds them in place. He spits to the side. "You know the safeword. Just say it."

Caulfield glares back up at him, and the crowd roars with delight.

//some good ol vampire fight club violence, feat. the npc caulfield i made for sal to beat the shit out of

[troublewithvampires]

@yaksha-garden said: 👁 for Eden?

(get sal's honest thoughts on your muse - open)

"... They've got a fuckin' mean swing," Salvatore grouses, rubbing his jaw with one hand. Despite his pained grumbling, he has a smile on his face. "It's impressive. And annoying."

"Far as the freaks at the fight club go, Soma's one of the less irritatin' dipshits there." He rolls his eyes almost fondly. "Don't get me wrong, they're still an annoyin' asshole on a good day, but I can at least tolerate them." Much more so than certain vampires who never seem to shut the fuck up.

"That doesn't mean I'm gonna go easy on 'em, though," he adds after a moment. "I'd beat their fuckin' ass into the ground any day of the week." Ignoring the fact that they've kicked his ass multiple times by now.

[troublewithvampires-a]

@modestmuses ​said: 💬 //for whichever muse makes the most sense given the prompt or you can leave it vague idc

(generated prompts time - open)

Salvatore is leaning against the railing of the balcony where he stands, lit cigarette perched held loosely in one hand as he stares out at the city below him. It’s a peaceful and quiet night, a harsh contrast to the shouting and chaos from the ring only less than an hour ago.

Tonight, Salvatore had fought another vampire, a scrappy broad with short blonde hair and a nick in her left ear. She’d put up a good fight, put on a good show, but ultimately Salvatore came out on top. It felt good, kicking another bloodsucker’s teeth in, even if none of the damage they inflict on each other is ever permanent or fatal.

After the fight, she’d tried to talk to Salvatore, even invited him to go hunting with her and a few other vampires. It’s something that the other vampires usually do after fights, allowing the adrenaline from punching the shit out of each other to carry into ripping some poor sucker’s throat out. Of course, Salvatore hadn’t replied, just walked away and gone to smoke.

And so here he is, nursing his cigarette alone on a balcony of the condemned apartment building where the fights took place.

Cigarettes, like alcohol, don’t do anything for Salvatore anymore. It’s another one of the many human vices he can no longer indulge in, but he still chooses to regardless. The burning smoke in his dead lungs is almost a comfort, just like the fights are, a reminder that he is, in a way, still alive, even if this isn’t the kind of living he ever would’ve wanted for himself.

He’s interrupted from his musings when he becomes aware of someone else coming out onto the balcony. Even without turning to look, he can smell that the stranger is a human. The thick tang of their blood is strong in the air, and Salvatore has to bite his tongue to keep himself from turning and ripping into them. Thankfully, he’s got a better handle on himself as of late than he used to.

“You must be batshit to be coming around here,” he drawls, not even glancing at the human behind him. “This ain’t exactly the kind of place someone like you should be snoopin’ around.” Salvatore takes a long drag from his cigarette, holding it carefully between two fingers.

After a moment, he breathes out a cloud of smoke and turns his head to look behind him at the human. At a glance, he doesn’t recognize the stranger, a young man with brown hair and tired eyes. Not that that means anything necessarily--he doesn’t know a lot of humans these days.

“You got a death wish or somethin’, kid?” he asks, allowing the human to fully take in his deep red eyes, pointed ears, and the fangs just behind his lips.

[troublewithvampires]

Salvatore's body doesn't really feel sore anymore, not like it used to, but there is a pleasant ache radiating through his body as he steps out of the decrepit old building and into the cool night air. He unconsciously pulls his jacket a bit tighter over his shoulders.

Tonight's fights were a goddamn shitshow, more so than usual. Half the time, Salvatore isn't even really sure why he still attends these events, aside from a desire to relieve stress by breaking another bloodsucker's teeth. He gets that stress relief, sure, but it doesn't feel particularly worth it when he has to spend the night around some of the most annoying vampires alive.

Tonight, though, they were somehow more annoying than usual. Salvatore doesn't even really know how to explain why, but the whole time, he was itching to leave even more so than usual. (Probably why he got his fucking ass kicked by fucking Caulfield at the end.)

So, he wasn't feeling particularly chummy when the fighting died down, and while the other bloodsuckers were chattering amongst themselves, he'd slipped out immediately to begin his long walk home--or rather, to the run-down old cabin he's been calling home for the past few weeks.

As he walks, Salvatore fishes a cigarette out of his pocket and perches it between his chapped lips. He grabs for his lighter as well and lights it, taking a long drag as his eyes slip closed. The smoke may not have much of an effect on him anymore, but the gesture is comforting at the very least. The hot smoke filling his lungs makes him feel alive, if only for a moment.

Salvatore's eyes snap open soon after, though, as he registers the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps. Quickly, he breathes out the cloud of smoke in his throat, whipping his head around to see the approaching threat-

-only to see that the threat is a child. A human kid dressed in blue, with a wide grin on his face as he looks at Salvatore with starry eyes. Immediately, Salvatore relaxes as he realizes that this kid is not a threat, but the words that tumble out of the kid's mouth have him bristling.

"The fuck-" Salvatore starts, staring the kid down with narrowed red eyes. "You were fuckin' watchin'? Jesus, ya' little freak, ain't you a bit young to be gettin' your kicks watchin' strangers beat the shit out of each other?" It doesn't occur to him not to swear in front of a child--after all, his parents swore around him all the time. Nor does it occur to him to be nice. Far as he's concerned, he doesn't owe this kid anything special, and that includes kindness.

It's about then that he fully registers what the kid said to him--one of them. Shit. If this kid was watching the fight, then he definitely knows the fighters weren't human, and Salvatore isn't making any attempts to disguise himself right now. Fucking goddammit-

"Do you have a fuckin' death wish, kid?" he spits, taking a step back. Salvatore trusts himself not to randomly maul a child to death, but better safe than sorry.

     closed starter for   ⟶   @troublewithvampires

Craig had his face pressed up against the dirty basement window, watching the fight.  It was far from the best seat in the house, but he was sure a kid like him wouldn’t be able to get in.  You usually need tickets or some other entry thing to watch these things, and they typically require adult supervision, too.  Craig didn’t have time to go back and get his dad, even though the guy would have loved this stuff.

It did not take him long to figure out that this was no ordinary fighting ring, though.  The fangs and claws came out, and things got a lot more interesting, and he was flat on his belly in the damp earth to ensure he got the best view his particular vantage point would allow.  That display of power was unlike anything he had ever seen, and now he’s on his way home with a giddy smile on his face.

But he stops when he sees a man smoking a cigarette.  The window was filthy, and the angle was awkward, but even so, Craig is so sure he recognizes him, based on the large brown scar splashed across his pale nose.  Craig runs up to him, practically skipping as he goes, and then skids to a stop in front of him.

“You’re one of them, aren’t you?” he says, beaming, pointing enthusiastically.  “I saw your fights.  You totally kicked ass.  That was the coolest thing ever!”

[troublewithvampires]

Salvatore almost immediately regrets his decision when he sees the self-satisfied little smirk that spreads across Craig’s face the moment he agrees to the spontaneous McDonald’s trip. It’s clear that they both knew from the beginning that he would cave, no matter how much he might bitch and moan and pretend otherwise. Salvatore is all-too aware of the fact that Craig and the other kids have him wrapped around their little fingers. Not that he can’t deny them anything, of course, or that he’s blind to their faults--he has no problem telling the brats when they’re being fucking jackasses, really--but he enjoys caring for them. More than that, the fact that, by now, they often seek him out for that care means something to him that he doesn’t know how to put into words.

After a lifetime of violence, having gentleness expected of him is strange, almost unnerving, but Salvatore easily finds that he doesn’t mind nearly as much as he pretends to.

That doesn’t mean, of course, that he’s always comfortable with how obvious his affection for the kids is.

“If she is, it’s your funeral,” Salvatore drawls. There is truth to Craig’s words, of course. Laura very likely won’t be mad, not about this. She’s a kind woman, after all, who cares deeply for her children. Of course, she isn’t a pushover by any means, and she can be a bitch when she wants to, but at heart she’s not the kind of person who would hold a grudge over something as minor as this. After all, she’s just as doting as he is more often than not.

As he thinks about Laura, Salvatore’s thin lips quirk into a slight smile. Just like his affection for the kids, Salvatore is sure by now that his affection for Laura is far from subtle. Though he’d never actually make a move on a married woman, he also won’t lie and say he doesn’t like her. Perhaps if she wasn’t happily wed, he’d say something to her directly, but he doesn’t see that happening any time soon. Just as well, he supposes. It’s less messy this way. Salvatore isn’t Craig’s dad and he’s not Laura’s husband, but he’s genuinely happy to be there for them both regardless.

A light tug on his shirt brings Salvatore back to the present, and he looks down to see Craig still gripping the light blue fabric as he peers up at the vampire expectantly. Salvatore’s smile grows into something genuinely fond for a brief moment, before he forces it back down and rolls his eyes, replacing his put-upon irritation almost immediately. He sets his book down properly and gets to his feet, almost reaching down to ruffle Craig’s hair before deciding against it, so as not to disturb the kid’s hat.

“Alright, alright,” he sighs, unable to keep his smile from sliding back onto his face. Who’s he fucking kidding? He does care about these kids, annoying as they can be sometimes. “Hold your damn horses, you little shit. The McDonald’s ain’t gonna get up and leave if we don’t get there fast enough, and you ain’t gonna die of hunger if you gotta wait another two fuckin’ seconds to eat.” Craig seems to be a bundle of energy right now, rocking back and forth in excitement as his eyes glimmer. And the moment the vampire is standing, Craig is off, skipping towards the car Salvatore and Billy have been using for the past few months since coming to South Park.

It’s an older SUV, one that Salvatore wouldn’t have been caught dead driving once upon a time, blocky and spacious and entirely unlike the sleek, aerodynamic cars he was so fond of in his youth. The dark blue sides are dented in a few places and the piece of junk often barely runs on a good day, but it gets the job done nearly every time. Like everything else about Salvatore’s life nowadays, it represents a change he’s had to adjust to. Not that he minds too much, truly. Because like everything else, it’s not exactly an unpleasant change.

As he follows Craig out to the car, Salvatore calls after him, “You can have a fuckin’ shake if you can keep quiet and not annoy the shit out of me on the way there.” They both know very well that Salvatore’s going to end up buying Craig a fucking shake, no matter what he says, but it’s the principle of the thing.

      Craig lights up with a self-satisfied grin when Sal concedes.  The man is softer than he lets on, slapping a tough exterior over his squishy insides, but you only have to look at how he treats the local children to see past that.  Craig was the first kid to make an impression on Sal, but since then, the vampire has picked up a whole gaggle of children whom he dotes on (in his calloused way) and spoils rotten.  The kids don’t even have to be from terrible home situations, as evidenced by Craig and Clyde.  Sal’s undead heart is just that disgustingly huge, too much parental affection with nowhere to put it.

      There was no way he would tell Craig ‘no’ in any lasting capacity.

      “She’s not gonna be mad,” Craig assures, rocking back on his heels, maintaining a light grip on the fabric of Sal’s shirt.  “Plus, I’m not gonna spoil anything.”  He’s a growing boy, so it’s completely believable that he would still be hungry after some chicken nuggets.  Even if he isn’t, he’ll force himself to clear enough of his plate to be convincing, just so Sal can’t tell him he told him so.

      “You’re driving!” he chirps, as if that’s not obvious, skipping on his way to the car.  “I wan’a shake.”