#David/Michael

[novaficachi]

David wins.

Follow me on Twitter at @/mourningneteyam

[ratmare]

Death is a Star

Summary: Michael is having a rough time after the move to Santa Carla. His brother's driving him nuts, his grandpa's actually crazy, and his mom expects him to be mature about everything. After it all gets to be too much one night, Michael finds himself going a little postal on the boardwalk and makes some new interesting friends in the process. [Lost Boys if the events prior to the move left Michael with a bit more older sibling anger and resentment for David to work with]

[themarginalthinker]

Human Coil - lost boys drabble

(a little jam me and my partner wrote about seeing the Boys actually work for their food lol)

Seeing the pack actually hunt is pretty chilling.

The first time, it had been dark, his purely human eyes not able to see much in the flickering light of the bonfire. The gang had been stationary targets, and not more than a hundred feet away. That hadn’t been hunting, it had been bobbing for apples in a shallow tub. 

This was different.

Michael can't keep up on human feet, so they have him ride Thorn.

It's two people lost in a van on back roads somewhere in the deep woods of the Rockies foothills at night, clearly looking for a place to stop over. Steep inclines on one side of the road. A shear wall of rock to the other. The guardrail needs updating. 

Paul mists, spreading the thin tendrils of himself across the road. The headlights don't cut it more than a few yards. 

Marko projects a doppler of himself into the road. If one were to come closer, look harder, they could have seen the odd angles of the false image, but a moving vehicle has no such luxury. The van swerves in a panic, and slams through the guardrail, down the side of the steep hill. It rolls, windshield cracking like a shell, bits of the van flinging off into the night.

Inside, the glass spatters with blood.

The woman gets out. The man does not. She’s yelling, stumbling, hurt but not dead. She comes to the driver’s side, to the man, trying to get the door open and help him. Already, it’s clear to all that he’s beyond that. 

The woman looks about, helpless in the night. Her eyes find the road above the incline. 

She sees them.

She runs.

David and Dwayne shoot after her, so fast, they're blurry in Michael's vision. He grips the fur around Thorn's neck a little tighter. The dog boy keeps pace, a dozen herself feet behind. He stops to nose at the overturned car for a moment, before leaving the injured man for Paul and Marko who are already in the van and pulling the body out. He takes Michael to follow the trail of the woman.

By the time they catch up, she's already in between Dwayne's jaws.

She's still moving. Her arms are in Dwayne's hands, claws sinking into the flesh to keep a better hold. David is keeping her legs from getting traction on the ground enough to arch back and wiggle out. 

Not that that would matter either, Dwayne is already eating, thick swallows from the ruined flesh under his crushing teeth. David sees them come close, amber eyes catching the light of the moon, reflecting it in their depths. 

He considers them for a moment… and then nods to Thorn, for him to bring Michael closer.

Thorn does, and Michael slides off of him. He pads to the side of the dying woman, seeing her dimming eyes, hearing her shallow, panicked breathing. Even with his fledgling nose, he can smell the blood.

"You hungry?" David asks. 

Michael nods.

"Starving."

Michael's teeth aren't sharp enough yet to break skin, so David does as he has for almost four years now. A claw makes a path for Michael. Their leader feeding all before himself.

The woman’s blood flows easily enough for a fledgling.

It tastes like salt, and fear and iron.

Michael doesn't need as much as a full vampire. He takes until his body tells him to stop, and lets David and Thorn finish what he started. 

As they do, him sitting to the side and enjoying the full feeling, he looks down at himself. His still human body. He doesn't have claws yet, and his body doesn't turn into the elegant, arrow-like shape. It looks like a breeze, slipping through the understory of the trees, or brushes, loping, racing across open fields. 

Michael lifts a hand, looking at the moon between his fingers. How it illuminates the little veins and arteries hidden below thin skin, the bones under that. He wonders what it feels like to make them curl into claws, change their form to make the predator of man. 

He knows this transient state won't, can't, last forever. He wants it. He's wanting it more every hunt. 

It's been almost four years since he left Santa Carla with the pack. He's starting to wonder what's holding him back.

-

David is The one who helps carry him back to their nest. It's far enough that it would likely take more than a day on foot for Michael. But David is very fast, especially fresh off of a kill. Michael just has to hold on. 

They stop about half a mile out from their hiding place. David sets him down on the mossy back of a fallen tree, and in a moment, looks human again. The hunt is over, and keeping up the change can be straining. 

The nest isn’t too far away, the old warehouse shed left abandoned in the middle of the woods to rot. The atmosphere has shifted, the dead of night passed and the world is preparing to welcome a new day. Dawn is soon. 

"I've been thinking," Michael starts.

"Always dangerous,” David jokes. “Do you have a light? I think I lost mine in the woods."

Michael hums, and digs through his pockets. Normally Paul would be there to save the day, but he and Marko haven't made it back just yet. Michael can only imagine what they're doing. They didn't make a kill with their own teeth tonight, but the slight high from blood is more than enough for those two to...well. 

Michael finds a flick-open lighter, handing it to David, who lights up, and then offers Michael a smoke. He just shakes his head. 

David shrugs, tucking the pack back into a pocket, and flops onto the log. He looks at him expectantly. 

Michael tries to put the new, fragile words knocking about his mind in the right order. 

"So. I come-with on hunts now, and I eat with you guys," he starts. 

David raises an eyebrow. "Observant." 

"Shut up," Michael growls. David snickers, but waves his hand for him to continue. 

"Well. Uh." He breathes. It's fine. It's just David. "What. Is killing like."

David looks at him, a puzzled expression on his face, as if he’s trying to decipher the words himself. This was likely not the question he’d been expecting, nor the conversation to follow. 

He takes a long drag of his cigarette before he answers.

"I'll be real with you. It never gets easier. Unless I really hate the person, I always feel a little bad when their heart stops. But other than that?"

He takes another long inhale, letting the smoke linger between his teeth before exhaling. Savoring the feeling in his lungs.

"It's exhilarating. You haven't been flying yet but it's very similar. A sort of…weightlessness, and, I don't know. It feels right."

Michael freely admits that he feels a release in his chest he hadn't known had been wound tight, hearing that David did still feel something when he killed. He wasn't...wrong. Vampires weren't so far away from the mortal coil, so deep in 'pretending' that they never looked in the mirror and could no longer see the connection between themselves, and the prey in their jaws. 

At least, not his vampires. 

And Michael isn't lying to himself anymore. He can't. 

He likes the taste. He likes running, he likes feeling full, warm, cuddling with Paul and Marko who lick him clean and settle in to be big, lazy predators. 

But there's that last barrier. He knows none of them care that he still has it, really. But he does.

He's starting to outgrow his humanity. He supposes, before he shucks it for good...he just wants to know the other side won't hurt him. 

Michael is broken from his reprieve by David suddenly leaning in, and kissing the corner of his mouth. 

"If you were thinking any louder we could use the click of your cogs as a beat for Paul's music." 

Michael laughs, and returns the kiss. Nicotine, smoke, and blood. Not bad.

[agoodflyting]

David Tennant pissing off the Prime Minister bc he told government officials to stfu over their anti-trans bigotry and Michael Sheen literally poisoning himself investigating corporations dumping toxic chemicals in underprivileged areas is NOT the energy I expected from 2024 but oh man am I here for it.

[nipuni]

Aziraphale and Crowley in Hades style! 😊

A speedpaint video of these will be available at my Patreon on june 1st along with the 10th doctor one!

[ingravinoveritas]

"We've all got to be fighting that fight every day."

Happy Pride, everyone...

[nicostiel]

Aziraphale's favorite color is yellow

[ayo-edebiri]

#The third season of Good Omens looks really good

[hansoeii]

look at you, you're gorgeous!

[charlizekkelly]

dang, this is amazing

‘You’re mine, Michael.’

I miss the kiss of treachery The aching kiss before I feed The stench of a love for a younger meat And the sound that it makes when it cuts in deep The holding up on bended knees The addiction of duplicities As bit by bit it starts the need To just let go my party piece -The Cure, Disintegration

[ratmare]

Halloween spirit has moved me to update this fic for the first time in a dog’s age, and we’re finally getting to the good part

[mintybagels]

i was falling asleep and thought of this so now it’s like 3am jesus i need to go to sleep ok bye

[batsyvie]

[chloesimaginationthings]

The Afton kids deserved better in FNAF..

[winter-seance]

BAFTA 2024

[devilledminion]

What is the key to enjoying life? (x)