#TAKE A BLACK MAN IN AMERICA MAKE HIM A VAMPIRE FUCK WITH THAT VAMPIRE AND SEE WHAT COMES OF IT

[drfurter]

alastor hazbin…..and louis de pointe du lac iwtv…….i am being rather uncouth mixing these flavors but i am cooking….

[emjee]

“Take a Black man in America, make him a vampire, fuck with that vampire, and see what comes of it.”

[glittercake]

WIP GAME

@downwarddnaspiral thank you for the tag to share some of my wips :) which... i cant believe i actually have unposted wips for a change! i normally just write one thing at a time and finish it. i cant say when any of these will be done though, but at least they exist lmao. i've been busy irl and too tired to write.

so. here goes:

The sambucky divorce AU: titled Moments Away for now (from the Mango Groove song) i have about 6k, redid the outline 3 times because it was just too much, and had some personal war flashbacks while writing it so i had to take a breather 😂 Excerpt:

Sam's mama always said love’s never going to be enough and he didn't understand how that was possible. He didn’t understand—as a seventeen-year-old, so in love he could barely see out of his own eyes, or as a sophomore on the back of a dropout, bad boy’s motorbike, or as a new father of beautiful twin girls with the love of his life—how that could ever be the truth. But he gets it now. 

more below the cut!

Next is a Sambucky Night Agent AU: based on the netflix series. it's basically cap sam/modern bucky but with suspense :) this is literally all i have so it might change completely:

There’s murder on the news. The Vice President’s dead. The nation’s in uproar. They’re saying he did it. They’re saying Captain America has committed treason. His face is plastered across the news, on every station on every street pole, his description is flying through the airways as he sits here covered in blood, trying to catch his breath. He didn’t do this. Sam can’t fucking breathe. He’s not someone to admit this easily, but he needs help. He needs help in a big fucking way. He eyes the number that dying woman stuffed in his hand earlier and hopes his phone line is still connected.

This one is a post canon fic where they run into each other on vacation and decide to have a little summer fling and then drama happens when bucky joins thunderbolts when they return.

Technically Sam wouldn’t be fucking his co-worker. Technically, they’ve only worked together like once, really. Bucky’s mouth is in his neck right now, and Sam can feel a bruise forming but he’s doing nothing to stop it because Bucky’s hand is also on Sam’s dick and it’s all going downhill real quick. So does he want to shit where he eats? No. Is he going to tell Bucky to stop? Also no. They’re on vacation and it’s anything but separate, like they threatened—in fact they’re plastered together—so something, something stays in Vegas…

then a fucking vampire AU?? which was very unexpected but I'm having fun planning it and writing little bits at a time. basically sam is a photographer looking to advance his career and bucky is a 100yo vampire. hmm.

There’s a sudden movement at the top of the stairs, so swift it’s dizzying. Sam can't place it. Just a gust of black night and bright blue, like the electric zap of lightning in a storm. Sam’s instinct is to retreat, wanting to back himself out of there. Overcome with fear. But something else sticks him in place, makes him hone in on the movement. A tall, slim figure, pale as moonlight, glides down the steps as if they’re not there at all, with the grace of an encroaching predator, salivating with deadly hunger, and Sam can’t move. Only after a few paralyzing moments does he recognize the shape as a person. A man. Sam realizes now that the flash of electric blue he’d seen is the man’s eyes.

anyway, that's it. i'm actually keen to get work done on these. hopefully i get some time soon :)

[foxytonic]

New Pinned Post!

Howdy! I'm Jay! (she/they, 29, genderfluid, bisexual) This is my main blog, where you'll find fandom content, shiny rocks, spooky shit, funny stories (usually by other people), and whatever else catches my fancy. I run a shit-ton of RP blogs, but only a few of them are active at any given time. I also have a writing blog and an RP meme blog that I occasionally update. Outside of Tumblr, I have a full time job at a fast food joint (hate with a burning passion), and I play a lot of Dungeons & Dragons (love!!!), and I try to just live my life. I'm a disabled punk who's really tired of living in a Red State, but can't bring myself to leave because this is my home, and there are still plenty of good things about it, like roadrunners, armadillos, cacti, cave systems, and prairies! Wish I could get out and see more of it.

Some guidelines for following/interacting with me:

No bigotry of any kind. That means no racism, no homophobia, no antisemitism or religious discrimination, no TERF or radfem bullshit, no man-hater nonsense (even from so-called feminists), and no sexism. Don't like, don't follow. You whine about it, you get blocked instantly. I will not suffer hateful fools!

If you regularly post about politics, US or otherwise, please tag it. Same with the wars in Gaza and Ukraine. It's not that I don't care! I think it's shitty what's happening over there, and the fact that America is on the wrong side in what is essentially World War III is fucking disgusting, but I do not have the funds or mental capacity to donate to every fundraiser that shows up on my dash, and seeing people suffering and feeling guilty for not being able to help has made my depression a lot worse over the past year. This is the reason why I've shut off my inbox.

That being said, if you have questions or want to chat, my DMs are always open! It might take me hours to respond because of my work schedule, but I will at least try. I am a very awkward and shy person. It takes me a bit to start coming out of my shell, and even then, I tend to be a social chameleon, matching the energy and interests of those around me. It is extremely difficult for me to truly be myself around someone else. Please be patient with me.

I do have Discord! If you want it, you can always DM me, but I admit that it's no longer my preferred method of contact, unless you want to voice chat. I'll join a server if I'm invited to one that interests me, but I won't always be active. Something about large groups of people being intimidating even on the internet!

As I said, I run way too many RP blogs, and I'll list the active ones below, but if you want to play with them, either shoot me a DM or send in a starter or five. I'm not exclusive, but I do tend to follow my partners back. I'm fine with playing with Anons, too!

Active RP Blogs

@quaintnecromancer - Arguably my most active blog! Jett is my necromancer OC, and definitely my current favorite character to play.

@haunted-ex-rocket - My newest blog! Averis is a Pokémon OC based on my Pokémon GO! avatar, a rakish Ghost-type trainer from Kanto who used to work for Team Rocket but defected when he stumbled upon the Giovanni-funded Mewtwo Project.

@cursedphoenix - Another of my favorite OCs! Tancred is a witch who was afflicted with a sleeping curse after losing a duel to his evil mother. Over three hundred years later, he woke up, and is still trying to adjust to the modern world after decades of living in it. I used to write both him and Jett over on @covenunited , but that blog is no longer active due to loss of muse.

@feathers-n-fangs - Griffin is my vampire/warlock OC, and I love him a lot! He also has a Pokémon AU, among others.

@mage-of-black-robes - my Raistlin Majere RP blog!!! Heavily influenced by the Russian musical The Last Trial, but he also has a ton of AUs.

I’ll try to add more blogs to this list as I gain muse for them, but I make no guarantees.

[sophie1973]

WIP Wednesday

I was tagged over the past week by @taste-thewaste, @stellarm and @onthewaytosomewhere

Have a little flashback ( a second one) from my WIP "Bloodstream" with Philip's pov this time. (I decided to make Philip a good brother in this story because, well, this is my fic and I do what I want. But consequently he might sound a bit OOC for some)

Snippet and tags under the cut

“Am I being clear, Henry?” “Perfectly clear, Gran,” Henry replies, a blank look on his face.   “I hope so. I would hate to have to take matters into my own hands.”  The threat is limpid, and with one last warning look, she leaves the room, leaving the 3 of them in various state of shock and confusion.

“Fuck,” Philip mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose and ignoring the surprised looks his siblings throw at him. It’s true he doesn’t swear often, and certainly not in front of them, but the situation at hand seems to require it. “She certainly did not seem happy to know about Mom and Dad’s involvement with Percy,” Bea says, her voice trembling slightly and her complexion paler than usual. “I should have kept my mouth shut, but I honestly thought she knew. Which, in retrospect, is a bit daft on my part,” Philip sighs. “It’s alright, Pip. You were trying to defend me. Besides, it’s not like they hid anything. It’s only because I spent time with him that she took notice, and we all know why,” Henry chimes in, his face now closed and somber.  Bea takes his hand and squeezes it. “I’m not sure what offends her the most: that you would shag a man, that he is black, or that he is a vampire.” “Bea,” Philip chastises her half-heartedly, but when he hears Henry’s soft laugh, he lets out one too. “Probably all three of them.” “So, I don’t want to sound alarmist, but I still think we should warn Percy. Just to be on the safe side.” Beatrice’s eyes widen. “You think she could….? I know Percy is not a peerage member, but he is still a prominent name in society. His…disappearance would definitely causes some stir.”  “It pains me to say this, but yes. I think she could. And she will. Again, I don’t want to anticipate negatively,” he presses, seeing Henry’s ashen face. “But it’s Gran.” “I suppose we should be more cautious for a while. Percy talked about expanding the shelters to America, maybe it might be the right time. Like you, I really don’t trust Gran to stay idle even if we don’t see each other anymore,” Henry says softly, obviously upset at the idea of having to send his best mate away. Philip knows he’s blaming himself for the predicament in which he put Percy, even involuntarily. “It’s just a precaution, I’m sure all will be fine,” Philip says in what he hopes is a reassuring manner, even though he doesn’t believe one word of what he just said. He sees Henry’s and Bea’s shoulders relax a little, so he feels a little better about lying to them.   Philip has always trusted his instincts, and the fact that he has been so catastrophically right about them will haunt him for the rest of his days. Two weeks later, Arthur Fox is found dead in an alley behind Drury Lane, allegedly the victim of a random mugging. Six weeks later, with the help of Percy, who made arrangements from across the pond, Philip puts his siblings on a ship to America, wishing desperately it won’t be the last he will see of them.

No pressure tag for

@hgejfmw-hgejhsf @theprinceandagcd @inexplicablymine

@piratefalls @underthefigtree777 @happiness-of-the-pursuit

@ash-morrison @itsmaybitheway @tintagel-or-cockleshells @fckngyrs @blueeyedgrlwrites

@kj-bee @yrsacdfox @tailsbeth-writes @firenati0n

[chernayawidow]

“Mainly, you needed to stop wasting it. You were tired of jobs that would pay your bills but not bring you closer to your career.” — Hell yeah! Honestly I also need that kind of clarity but it’s just so harddddd 😓

“And frivolous thoughts of coffee shop boys and…the hope of running into your soulmate.” — See THIS right here is what makes the situation even more painful, is the fact that she hopes to find her soulmate. While on the other hand, he knows about her in a way, and he had the chance to reach out to her, but he decided to let the connection fizzle out because of his revenge driven, neglectful father.

“Yes, make sure it’s not on Thursday,” she said, brushing a finger through her thin blonde hair. “I have to leave early to get my roots touched up before I go away this weekend.” — This bitch needs to get cut down to size 💀 listen I’m all for getting your hair done, but to put that above our baby girls OWN work load is a bitch move. I really hope she gets a reality check at some point…

“Oh. And get me a coffee, would you, dear?” — I choose to believe that our girl proceeded to spit a big ol’ glob into that coffee!

“Really?” Your voice was terse. “It’s one day a year, Dad. You can’t even manage that?” — Oh no, another shitty dad 🫣

“At least you had your car—a dark blue Camaro your uncle had restored and gifted you for your twenty-first birthday.” — OH FUCK YES YES YESSSS!!!! I LOVE CAMARO’S!! Bobby for the win you amazing human being!! Also I immediately thought of Vampire Diaries.

“You didn’t talk to your Uncle Bobby as much as you would like. Between work and school and taking care of the house for you and your dad, you didn’t have much free time on your hands.” — Justice for Bobby!!!

“Your dad had never liked it, you hanging around your uncle. So you didn’t tell him.” — Good thing you’re a 24 year old woman babe, what you do is your choice, and he can’t stop you MWAHAHAHAHAH 😏

““He knows,” Bobby said. The surly edge to his voice made you smile in amusement.” — I love Bobby so much, and Rufus too 🥺💖

“Usually I’d take you up on that, but I’ve got some people coming in pretty soon.” — The Winchesters I bet… 😏

“You shook your head. People drive like maniacs nowadays.” — LMAOOO oh if only she knew who that flash of black belonged to 💀

“You were finally feeling your soulmate.” — DUN DUN DUNNN!! AND THUS IT BEGINS!!

“Part of him thought, if he hadn’t hooked Sam into coming with him to try and find John, maybe Jessica Moore would still be alive.” — I’ve always wondered the same thing. If Sam never went with Dean, and was home with Jess, then would she still have died?

“’Cause it’s not just for you,” Bobby said dryly, then he hesitated. “...My niece might be swingin’ by later.” — Awh he’s so sweet and fatherly 🥹🫶

“Sam finally cracked a small grin as Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine. Jesus. You’d think Miss America was comin’ into town.”” — Nah just your soulmate who you avoided, no biggie at all 🤙

“You felt it now. You could almost visualize it with your eyes closed. In your imagination, it was bright and beckoning. You focused on it, and it grew brighter, thrumming and soft.” — This is such an interesting version of a Soulmate AU! There’s so many different types and I’ve never seen this kind before, but I’m really enjoying it!

“You could say that, he carefully replied. He remembered the way your voice sounded, smooth and pleasant in his mind, and he couldn’t help smiling a little. But not for long, I’m thinkin’.” — WOOHOO!!! CONTACT HATH BEEB MADE!! ITS HAPPENING!!!

“He answered you as he turned on the showerhead and started undressing. I’ll make a deal with you…if you can guess what I do for a living, I’ll come by and introduce myself in person.” — Dean you sly motherfucker 🤣

“When he once again remembered his dad’s warnings, that new warmth in his heart chilled, and it sunk like a stone.” — MAN FUCK JOHN! He really went and turned what should be a happy experience, into a terrifying one that Dean is now not wanting to commit to out of fear 😐 Stupid John! ITS ALWAYS THE JOHNS!!

So now the ball is really starting to get rolling! I just really hope that Dean disregards what John said and doesn’t up and leave her, because I don’t think my heart could handle that angst 🥺 and I can’t imagine how she would feel about that! Keen as to see how he handles this! Love your work as per usual! 🫶

Never Say Goodbye - Part 3

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (Rated M for eventual scenes – 18+)

Word Count: 4,500 Warnings: Language, fluff.

Part 3: Contact

As it turned out, your life started to get better after you missed that shift at the coffee shop.

Oh, you still got fired. But the experience of nearly getting splattered on the pavement by an oncoming truck gave you some unexpected clarity about your life.

Mainly, you needed to stop wasting it. You were tired of jobs that would pay your bills but not bring you closer to your career. And frivolous thoughts of coffee shop boys and…the hope of running into your soulmate.

Maybe one day, you could dare to hope, but from now on, you wouldn’t let it rule your thoughts. You wouldn’t hope too hard either.

It could save you from the disappointment of never hearing anyone’s thoughts but your own.

So you decided to check the University of South Dakota’s career board for jobs, and you discovered an opening in the history department! A research assistant for one of your favorite professors, who was writing their dissertation on the strange, superstitious, and sometimes down-right disgusting social practices of the Ancient Greeks (including bottling up the sweat of their best athletes, because they thought their musky body oils contained magical properties).

Since you were already majoring in history, you were a shoe-in for the job. And working directly with your professor gave you a great resource for future classes.

Four years later, you had earned your bachelor’s degree in History. You even decided to further your education when you were able to get a scholarship for graduate school.

Now you were just one semester away from finishing your master’s. You still worked in the history department, but you had been able to upgrade—to Executive Secretary to the Dean of Ancient Studies.

It sounded fancy, but really, you were a glorified slave. Or at least, your boss seemed to think so.

“I need you to cancel my meeting at two,” said Dr. Birch. She breezed into your tiny office without knocking, startling you from where you were hunched over your laptop.

“Good morning!” came your reflexive greeting, though it was a bit too loud and sharp. You internally winced at yourself and relaxed your posture, like a bird unruffling its feathers. “Cancel your meeting with Dr. Wells?”

Dr. Wells was a nice man, and an important one. He was the Head Dean of the entire History department. Technically, he was above Dr. Birch. It wasn’t a good look to blow him off, but you weren’t about to say so.

“Yes, I have an important lunch, and I already know it’s going to go overtime. Gary will understand,” she replied. She was looking at her phone rather than at you. For all she cared, you were just a calendar with hands.

Dr. Helen Birch was a brilliant woman. She’d published no less than five books, had won awards for her peer-reviewed articles, and she had been your academic advisor all through graduate school.

She could also rival Meryl Streep for “bitchy-ass boss” in The Devil Wears Prada.

“I also need you to grade the final exams for one of my classes,” she said. “Greek Studies this time.”

You held back a sigh. Again? I’ll never finish my own finals at this rate.

But what you said was, “Sure, I can do that. And I’ll email Dr. Wells to reschedule.”

“Yes, make sure it’s not on Thursday,” she said, brushing a finger through her thin blonde hair. “I have to leave early to get my roots touched up before I go away this weekend.”

“That’s fun,” you chatted while you revised Dr. Birch’s calendar on your computer (and sent an apology email to Dr. Wells). “Where to?”

“Oh, I have this tedious conference in Chicago. But then my boyfriend is taking me skiing in Breckenridge.” She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I simply can’t wait. This semester has been a drain on my psyche, and just terrible for my migraines.”

With the email sent, you took a little breath and gathered some courage as you got up from your desk and gathered a handful of papers you had stapled together. It was a rough draft of your thesis, which was only a bit worse for wear (including a suspect coffee stain that you didn’t remember accidentally putting there).

“Actually, I was going to ask you if you got my email about my thesis. I just wanted to go over some of the feedback you gave me on the draft,” you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

Dr. Birch raised a brow. “What of it?”

“Well.” You showed her the front page, which was covered in red ink. “Mainly the part where you crossed out the first three pages and commented, ‘Missing the point.’”

She nodded. “Yes. I’m afraid I have nothing to add about that.”

Well, that didn’t exactly help you. The first three pages was your entire introduction to your thesis, “TV & Film: The Modern-Day Mythology of the Masses.”

You must’ve had a pitiful, lost look on your face, because Dr. Birch finally took pity on you. She sighed.

“You are a creative girl. I’ll give you that, but your degree is not in cinematography. You are a historian,” she said. “And while the ‘Well of Souls’ in Raiders of the Lost Ark may be based on a real historical place in Jerusalem, that does not mean Indiana Jones can, or should be described as a ‘religious experience.’”

My ten-year-old self would bed to differ, you wanted to retort, but you kept your mouth shut and lowered your eyes. Dr. Birch nodded to herself and was about to leave your office, until she stopped short and gave you her Amex card.

“Oh. And get me a coffee, would you, dear?”      

The moment your day ended and you were able to get into your car, you let out a long sigh of relief. While you waited for your car to warm up, you massaged your hand, aching from grading papers for Dr. Birch’s class.

You rubbed your hands together, this time to warm them as the frigid air draining from the car still bit into your skin. A shudder tingled through your body, and not in a pleasant way. Honest to God, I hate the winter.

On reflex, you toyed with the silver ring on your right hand—your mom’s ring. It usually comforted you, but today, remembering her made your heart heavy. Because today was the anniversary. 

You still remembered that snowy day when you were fourteen, could picture it so clearly, like a scene painted on glass.

With one last sigh, you fished out your phone to call your dad. It rang for a few seconds (it always took him an eternity to answer his phone, and it drove you crazy).

“Hello?”

“Hey, Dad,” you said.

“Hey. Just got off work?”

“Yeah, I’m headed back to Sioux Falls. Want to meet at home and go together, or do you just want to meet me at the cemetery?”

The other line was silent for a moment. Longer than you would’ve liked.

“You’re coming, right?” you pressed.

“Look, I’m gonna have to work late tonight,” Jack said. “Don’t wait up for me.”

“Really?” Your voice was terse. “It’s one day a year, Dad. You can’t even manage that?”

“I told you I’m working a case.” He sounded annoyed. You didn’t care.

You were pissed.

“Whatever,” you dismissed. But then, you realized you weren’t willing to let it go just yet. “You know, I just find it interesting. On her birthday, Christmas, today, somehow you just can’t be bothered to visit your wife.”

“Hey, drop it, all right?” your dad snapped back.

“Sure. It’s none of my business, I guess.”

“I don’t need your sarcasm either.”

You silently fumed, but you weren’t willing to hang up the phone first. You didn’t want to look petty, and apparently, neither did he. You both could be stubborn like that, sitting in a tense stretch of silence instead of just…

Instead of just, I don’t know what, you could admit, if only to yourself. Eventually, his voice reached your ears.

“I’ll go when I can,” he said.

“Fine.”

And you really did hang up this time.

What should’ve been an hour drive back into your hometown took almost two with the traffic.

Oh yeah, you still lived at home with your dad. It wasn’t ideal, especially with a long-ass commute every day. But unfortunately, being a full-time student with a part-time job didn’t give you the budget to have your own life.   

At least you had your car—a dark blue Camaro your uncle had restored and gifted you for your twenty-first birthday. You didn’t talk to your Uncle Bobby as much as you would like. Between work and school and taking care of the house for you and your dad, you didn’t have much free time on your hands. You did see Bobby around town sometimes, and occasionally shared a beer with him when your demanding schedule allowed.

Your dad had never liked it, you hanging around your uncle. So you didn’t tell him.

That seemed to work out better for both of you.

In fact…

You reached for your phone again and found your uncle’s number.

“Stop badgering me, Rufus. I’m busy.”

Your lips curved into a grin. “Uncle Bobby?”

“Oh. Hi, darlin’. Sorry, thought you were some riff raff that keeps spammin’ me.”

“What did Rufus do now?” you asked.

“He knows,” Bobby said. The surly edge to his voice made you smile in amusement.

“What’re you doing later? Up for a beer?”

“Usually I’d take you up on that, but I’ve got some people coming in pretty soon.”

You scoffed. “You have people? What people?”

“You’re not the only number in my cell, you know,” he said dryly.

“What, you mean Rufus?” you teased.

“All right, now you’re just runnin’ up my minutes,” he said. “If you really want that beer, you’re welcome to swing by, if you want. I’ve got a stocked fridge full of cold ones.”

You laughed, then you considered his offer. Did you really want to go home and deal with your dad (whenever he bothered to come home)?

“Well, I’m going to the cemetery first, but I could maybe swing by after,” you replied.

“Right, that’s today, ain’t it?” Bobby said. “Give your mom my respects.”

A more genuine smile grew on your lips. “Thanks. Will do.”

You hung up with him just as you got to the cemetery. It was hard not to feel melancholy here, especially in the winter. All the graves were lightly dusted with snow, and it felt like the world came to a quiet stillness here.

You bundled up with your scarf and gloves as you braced yourself for the cold, stepping out of the car. On your way in, you heard the rumble of a car going by. It was loud enough to make you turn your head and see a flash of black speeding away.

You shook your head. People drive like maniacs nowadays.

You were about to continue on your way towards your mom’s grave, when you finally heard it.

Say goodbyeee…never say goodbye-y-aaayy. Holdin’ on we gotta try, holdin’ on to never sayyy goodbyeee.~

Someone was warbling a Bon Jovi song in your mind, and it certainly wasn’t you.

But you did come to a dead stop in your path. Your eyes widened as shock claimed your heart and your brain. Soon enough though, your heart warmed as you became aware of something new. It was like a low hum at first, reverberating inside your chest.

You and me and my old friends, hopin’ it would neeever end. Say goodbye��

The singing continued, but all you could focus on was the thrumming in your skull, the thread of connection you could sense and feel inexplicably. You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt warmth trickling down your cold cheeks. Sniffling, you wiped your tears with the back of your hand and smiled tremulously.

You were finally feeling your soulmate.

Which meant, he was close by…and with that realization came an important question:

What the hell do I do now?

They were in South Dakota again.

Dean knew coming back here was…potentially dangerous. He hadn’t heard his soulmate’s thoughts in four years, since the last time he was in this state.

Truth be told, he hadn’t wanted to come here. After the last hunt though, he could use some R&R at Bobby’s for a couple of days.

This time Dean had his brother with him, albeit the circumstances weren’t…great. Their dad was missing, and Sam had lost his girlfriend in the process of trying to find him.

Sometimes, Dean really regretted going to find his brother at Stanford. Part of him thought, if he hadn’t hooked Sam into coming with him to try and find John, maybe Jessica Moore would still be alive.

A more selfish part of him (one he wouldn’t name) was glad to have Sam with him. Dean was actually having fun hunting with him. And maybe, Dean was having to get to know him again too.

“You think Bobby will have any intel on Dad?” Sam asked from the passenger seat of the Impala. They were about five minutes away from Singer Salvage, the old man’s tow business (and his house).

“Doubt it,” Dean replied, changing the radio station once Bon Jovi turned to REO Speedwagon. He could get down with some pop rock from Jovi, but REO was pushing it.

“Then why are we here?” Sam turned to him with a frown. “We just ganked a poltergeist in our old house and…we saw Mom. You think we should be wasting time right now?”

Dean’s lips pursed. Leaving their old house behind in Lawrence, Kansas was exactly why he needed a minute before jumping into the next case. As much as he wanted to find John, Dean just…he needed a minute to breathe.

Revisiting those old (painful) memories wasn’t easy for him. He wasn’t sure that Sam completely got that.

“Bobby’s got a stack of lore books to Kingdom Come. Who knows, he might have a way to help us find Dad,” he said.

Sam shot him an unimpressed look. “And if he doesn’t?”

Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He got why Sam was so fired up. Really. The fact that the kid was having weird…premonition dreams about the near future was concerning. And he wanted to find the thing that killed Jess, that killed their mom, but this was clearly going to be a marathon. Not a sprint.

“In the meantime, we crack open a couple beers,” Dean said, “get one or two of free nights on actual beds, and then we’re on our way to the next gig. How’s that sound?”

Sam let out a sigh through his nose and faced the road ahead. They both knew he wasn’t happy. Dean couldn’t exactly blame him.

When they finally got to Bobby’s, the old man greeted them with a casual wave, beckoning them inside. He offered them the contents of his fridge—a few beers and a frozen lasagna defrosting in the fridge. Dean scoped it out while Sam dropped off his bag in the upstairs guest room.

“That for us?” Dean pointed to the lasagna with a grin. “Didn’t know we merited the red-carpet treatment.”

“’Cause it’s not just for you,” Bobby said dryly, then he hesitated. “...My niece might be swingin’ by later.”

Dean raised his brows in curiosity. “Didn’t know you had a niece.”

Or any family, for that matter. He knew the old man had a wife, once upon a time, but he assumed she’d passed away. No kids. Bobby had never talked about having an extended family. He didn’t have pictures on the walls, and the shelves only had books and locked boxes.

Bobby took a long sip of his beer after opening a bottle each for himself and Dean. He had one ready on the counter for Sam, who came into the kitchen looking tired. The kid hadn’t been sleeping well for the past few weeks, to say the least. Dean handed him the beer.

“I don’t see her much,” Bobby conceded.

“Why’s that?” Dean asked.

It took a moment for the other man to answer. Eventually, he was honest. “Well, she's grown. Going to school, got a job. But you could say I had a fallin’ out with her dad, a while back.”

“You have a brother?” Sam said.

“Brother-in-law,” Bobby corrected. He didn’t say anything more about it though. Sam and Dean shared a look that said they agreed: There’s something off there, but I’m not gonna pry.

“You still see her though?” Dean asked.

“Every now and then,” Bobby said, sipping at his beer again. “It’s a small town.”

That kind of pissed Dean off. Bobby was a good guy. He’d watched Sam and Dean a lot when they were kids, their dad on a hunt. He’d made sure they had decent food to eat, good movies to watch, and even played catch with Dean a time or two.

So what kind of assholes did Bobby have for family, that they couldn’t be bothered to check in on the old man every now and then? They must’ve been off living their lives, in their own little world. Must be nice.

Dean brought the bottle of Heineken to his lips, only to realize it was empty. Couldn’t have that, could we?

He went to the fridge and opened the cap, only to jump as the beer fizzed and leaked over his hands.

Damn it!

Bobby sighed. “And I just mopped the damn floor.”

“All right, Martha Stewart. Keep your slippers on,” Dean teased. “Sam, get me a paper towel.”

Bobby tried to get by him to get the mop, but beer was still dripping down Dean’s arm.

“Would you move to the sink, already?”

Sam finally cracked a small grin as Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine. Jesus. You’d think Miss America was comin’ into town.”

Damn it.

You heard him again. And this time, you could hear his voice, so you knew the thought belonged to a him. The voice was pleasantly deep, and annoyed. You actually felt his irritation and were able to recognize that the emotion didn’t belong to you.

Excitement bubbled in your throat, almost making it hard to breathe as you drove your car down the road. You had been too worked up to go see your mom, and technically you were supposed to head to your Uncle Bobby’s house, but this was too important.

You needed to figure out how to talk to him—your soulmate.

So you pulled over on the side of the road, and even turned the radio off. Okay, now what?

You didn’t know what you were supposed to do. They taught about this subject in school, sure, but that had been years ago! You’d spent the past six years filling your head with college and work and learning how to be an adult.

Okay, just breathe. You calmed down a bit with some deep breaths, and you closed your eyes. When you first heard your soulmate’s singing in your head, you remembered feeling warmth spread through your body, emanating from your chest. Then in your mind, you’d noticed a…a thread, of what could only be described as energy.

You felt it now. You could almost visualize it with your eyes closed. In your imagination, it was bright and beckoning. You focused on it, and it grew brighter, thrumming and soft.

You thought of what you wanted to say, and you tried it—sending your thoughts and your will through the connection.

Having a rough day?

Dean was still wiping beer off the floor in Bobby’s kitchen when he heard your voice ring through his mind.

Having a rough day?

His entire body tensed, and he paused with a ball of wet paper towel in his hand. Sam had taken the mop from Bobby and was about to finish off the floor, until he noticed Dean blanking.

“Dean?” he asked.

It shook Dean out of his shock, enough for him to look up at his brother. “Hmm?”

“What’s up? You were staring off into space.”

Dean feigned innocence. “Nothing.”

Sam’s brow rose, but he didn’t press the issue and went back to mopping. Dean took the opportunity to toss the wet paper towel in the garbage.

“I’m gonna hop in the shower,” he said, and made his swift exit to the bathroom upstairs, so quickly that he didn’t see Bobby watching Dean curiously from the living room.

“Don’t use up all the hot water!” Sam called after him.

Once again, Dean found himself locking the bathroom door and staring at himself in the mirror. His green eyes were conflicted as he tried to calm down. Maybe his heart was starting to beat a tick faster. Maybe a trickle of nervous sweat was making its way down his spine. Maybe he didn’t know what the hell to do.

His dad’s warning was still clear as a bell in his mind.

“Unless you’re prepared to hang up your gun, and stop hunting, don’t open that door.”

Dean knew why John had said it, and even agreed with him…at least, logically he did. His life was complicated, and insane, and bloody. How could he put someone else through what he went through? What he still went through every day? It wasn’t right.

But his chest was aching. He rubbed at it absently.

He could feel your worry again, he realized. You were anxious, probably waiting for him to respond. Dean could feel you. Having a rough day? you’d asked him.

So as usual, he made an impulsive choice.

You could say that, he carefully replied. He remembered the way your voice sounded, smooth and pleasant in his mind, and he couldn’t help smiling a little. But not for long, I’m thinkin’.

Your relief hit him in a slow, but powerful wave. It almost made him feel guilty for taking so long to answer.

Well, it’s not every day you hear someone else in your head. Maybe you’re going crazy.

She was teasing him. You were teasing him.

It brought an incredulous smile to Dean’s face. You’re one to talk. Maybe you’re just talkin’ to yourself right now.

Hmm. I don’t usually warble to Bon Jovi, but maybe you’re right.  

A beat of surprise, another to remember what he and Sam had been listening to in the car earlier, and then embarrassment prickled at the back of his neck.

You heard that, huh? he asked wryly.

Maybe, you giggled. It was a cute sound, and it cut through some of his embarrassment. He wasn’t used to being put back a step by women. He was good at reading people’s body language, and usually it didn’t take him more than one look to figure out what a woman thought about him, and what they wanted to do with him.

So the fact that he couldn’t see you was a challenge. With that realization, a slow smile spread across his face. He was game for a challenge.

Well, I’m likin’ your voice so far, he said. Think I could get you to sing for me?

He felt you pause, a flutter of warmth through a tendril of shyness. I’ll leave the performing to you, Romeo.   

Come on, it’s only fair.

Who said life is fair?

Dean sobered a bit at that. Ain’t that the truth.

Hmm, so you were having a rough day.

Make it a week, he said.

Yeah, I know the feeling…I wasn’t having a good day today either.

Dean sensed your melancholy and didn’t like the feeling. Well, now you’re talkin’ to me. So it should be smooth sailin’ from now on.

He could feel you brighten at that. It made warmth bloom once again inside his chest, especially because he sensed you were smiling—a bit shy, but genuine.  

…What’s your name? he asked.

It took you a beat, but eventually you gave him your name. It wasn’t what he expected, but he liked it. Your name rolled through his thoughts, and he tested on his tongue.

What’s yours? you asked predictably. Somehow, Dean didn’t anticipate the follow-up.

Suddenly he realized exactly what he was doing: he was talking to you. (Something he’d told himself he wasn’t going to do.) Not to mention, he’d been locked in the bathroom for about ten minutes and hadn’t even showered yet. Pretty soon either Sam or Bobby was going to come knocking to see what the hell he was doing, so he might as well shower for real.

He answered you as he turned on the showerhead and started undressing. I’ll make a deal with you…if you can guess what I do for a living, I’ll come by and introduce myself in person.

Dean felt your shock, so he let you think as he stepped into the shower. Eventually you came back, annoyance coloring your emotions and your voice.

That’s stupid.

Dean smiled. Aw, come on. It’ll be fun.

For you!

Don’t you know, sometimes the best things in life come after some delayed gratification.

You paused for a moment, in which Dean didn’t know if you were in shock again, or just pissed. Maybe a combination of both.

Great, I got a comedian, you deadpanned. …You’re not a comedian, are you?

Sweetheart, I’m hilarious, Dean replied. But no. Good guess, though.

He sensed the equivalent of you rolling your eyes.

Just then, Sam knocked on the bathroom door.

“Hey, you better not use up all the hot water!”

“Twenty minutes of peace, Sammy. That’s all I ask,” Dean shot back. Sam made a sound of annoyance, but he went away, leaving Dean almost alone with his thoughts.

Look, I gotta go, he said regretfully. But I expect you to have some guesses cooked up by the time I get back from work.

You were still annoyed, but you begrudgingly agreed to his terms.

Fine. Just…don’t wander too far off. I can’t win the game if I can’t hear you.

Dean sensed your underlying worry, and your fear. You were afraid he was going to leave.

His heart softened. As a result, he ended up promising things he didn’t know if he meant.

Don’t worry. I’m not leaving town until you win, he said.

He felt your warm smile, along with your excitement.

Goodnight, sweetheart. We’ll talk soon.

Okay…goodnight.

He hung onto the feeling of your presence for a few seconds longer, before he let go of the connection. For now.

Dean caught himself smiling, but it quickly turned to a frown.

“Nobody should be waiting on men like us to come home bloody.”

When he once again remembered his dad’s warnings, that new warmth in his heart chilled, and it sunk like a stone. He leaned against the cool bathroom wall and pressed his forehead against the tile, while lukewarm water beat the side of his face and body.

Shit.

AN: Oh, Dean. What're we gonna do with you? lol

I hope you enjoyed Part 3! I promise they'll finally meet soon lol. What did you think of their first conversation?

To keep reading: Part 4

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[lonespektr]

SEPTEMBER 10TH HORROR WATCH

The Invitation (2022) specifying 2022 because it's a BUNCH of horror movies called the invitation and they are good but we don't want to confuse anybody

Okay

Old timey days fancy lady

Locked in the house, they chasin her

She kills herself off the fancy stairwell

"it ends here"

Clearly not because this is min 5 of the movie

party server women camaraderie over being groped by men

It's a gala thing for a DNA kit company

They snag a kit

Protag mails it in

English cuz is in NY wants to meet up

He's apparently the whitest man alive

Bestie says hell naw he's going to take her kidneys

She meets him he says she's a family scandal

One guess why

That's right their girl had a baby with a black staffer presumably the old timey woman that offed herself at the start

Black staffer raised her kin on his own

Eventually they moved to America

But homeboy told everybody about her 🤣🤣🤣

Now the whole family wants to meet the black american cousin 🤣🤣🤣

There's a big wedding this makes it a plausible reason for her to visit

Protag bumps the help and drops of bunch of shit the help are woc

The head butler of whatever tells her to to clean it up

Not very tall dark (obviously fucking white why do white ppl call themselves dark cause of black hair) hansom says no shes a vip

Protag like okay so it's ok talking shit to the help??

I realize this is a plot hole because she's fucking American he would know she probably wasn't the help not in a uniform and talking shit

Anyways the house has a bunch of gawdy art sculptures like animals

Is this maid welsh? Can i accurately identify welsh accent?

Fancy room maid says the fancy wrought iron bars are on the windows because of demon shrikes

The bars match the decor there's wrought iron shit and marble shit and carved shit everywhere

Former lady of the house??

Doesn't say yo mama

She know she fuckin dying she crying implying it's about the dead lady of the house it ain't she knows about the set up!!!

Bro y'all not related?? You talking about the home owner.

Nightmare lady of the house

Monster in the hallway

Very elaborate ritual just to see who has a cleaning assignment for a creepy locked room they look nervous

Mostly woc

Maid says not safe out of her room

Head host literally chanting

Wired headphones in the year of our lord 2022?

Got her

Everyone is too happy almost relieved that she is there

Mean girls

Short one doesn't travel much

Fancy pants stole her drink and pulled her into a live performance on a moments notice how romantic

Cuz is kikiing with mean girl constant she was supposed to be the whatever she now it's protag

Confirmation he's fully in on it

Clearly they need a female heir but why

Second? Third?? Time on that sword

Oh shizz monster in the room

Dude is in the room? 🧐

Made another glass mess for maid

Lots of sharp objects being set up

Dude not subtle

Protag not fucking around

I'm poor i want money to do shit bro

He's playing it obviously fake

Excellently done tension with the manicure scene

Keeps breaking shit

Seeggs he proposed because they are already doing a wedding so

She literally juz said yes and he didn't laugh wtf

Lol she checked like bruh I'm nawt serious

Friggin venician masks now

3 families

She's literally all the head of the table with home boy

Hes playing it so greasy

Shes physically repulsed yet she keeps saying yes

He announced they marriage at dinner

Another one bites the dust

Exposition speech teach people made a deal with the devil

Count Dracula (literally numerology obsessed 🤣)

Talking about 3 is the magic number of brides

So thought they were all vampires but it's just ones dude hoarding power

The bridesmaids drank blood??

Wait who's got fangs?

She's expecting the rich people who sell their daughters for infinity to help

He's delusional

Maid is VERY distraught

More exposition

3 is that magic number they all get to be immortal if they cross the three blood lines

Apparently all fangs are day walkers

Lots of screaming begging and crying

Maid rescue

They guy is literally from dowton Abbey righ?

First house trouble

Name dropped the family

Not very smart but observant

Back in

Wedding day

That was always the play

Wild AF the change being instant

Stakes him already

Miss

Girls fight to the death

Show down count v protag

She's already unvamped with the palace buying around her nice and tidy

Daughter surpases the mother in that too end it

You don't maurder yourself you kill the baddie you survive

Lol she goes after cuz later w bestie

[h0neyriver]

"Take a Black man in America, make him a vampire, fuck with that vampire, see what comes of it"

Interview With The Vampire is the best fucking show.

[chicalepidoptera]

"Take a black man in America. Make him a vampire. Fuck with that vampire. And see what comes of it."

[gagfadget]

I’m gonna ramble a bit about this but someone in the tag said something along the lines of “Louis could’ve actually helped his community but he killed Alderman instead” and even though I don’t think Louis should’ve displayed his body like that in public for the same reason that unfolds at the end of the episode, saying that killing Alderman wasn’t cathartic would be a lie on my part. I mean…what could Louis’ vampirism do to help his community? How would vampirism help the black community? You could say that he can kill more racists and I’d love to see that to..but racism is a system that’s baked into America. It’s what made America. You also have to take Louis’ mental and physical state into consideration. His relationships are either crumbling or gone completely from his life now. Expecting Louis to make smart decisions when there’s so much happening to him and with him is kinda absurd and missing the point of his character. The story is explicit in how flawed he is, how irrational and hypocritical he can be. It’s also explicit about how insanely hard, confusing and traumatizing his situation is and how Lestat is trying to get him to speed-run through all of it. Daniel said it best, “You take a black man in America, make him a vampire, fuck with that vampire and see what comes of it” and well…this is what’s coming out of it for Louis.

[howdoyousleep3]

Themed self care story, just because:

It has been a long time since James had given Halloween more than just a passing thought. Sure, there were those at his company that embraced the holiday with both hands-- decorating their spaces, wearing costumes, installing candy bowls in various parts of the office, and so on--but James rarely partook of such festivities. It's not that he hated it or anything, he just never felt the drive to be a part of it.

Then his Stevie stumbled into his life.

And if anyone loves Halloween, it's a college kid.

James had never seen him so animated. New costumes every day, late nights helping set up, and then take down, various attractions across his school campus, chocolate-flavored kisses and licorice-tinted laughter at all hours.

He was captivating. And James couldn't help but be swept up in it.

So when Steve invited him to a party on Halloween night itself, he knew he had to go all out.

Problem was, he had no idea what kind of costume to wear. Vampires and werewolves and Frankenstein monsters were cliché, movie characters and pun-themed costumes weren't his style...he was stuck.

He had very nearly resigned himself to merely donning his old college hockey gear and blacking a few of his teeth, when he stumbled onto perfection:

Steve's comic collection. Namely, a grim anti-hero called The Winter Soldier.

Phone calls were made, fittings were scheduled, and magic was worked.

-

Night of the party, Steve was nearly frantic with excitement. He had no idea was James was gonna be, but he was simply thrilled at the fact the older man had agreed to come at all.

"James!" He called up the stairs as he finished lacing the boots of his own costume--an almost guilty splurge of James' money, a cinematically accurate Captain America--, "we gotta head out soon! Traffic sucks close to the bar, and we gotta find parking!"

"Almost ready," came a muffled reply. "I just need a quick hand with this zipper. Help?"

Steve bounded up the stairs, eager and excited to see the costume James had been hiding from him for days. Was it a fully decked out Victorian Vampire Hunter? Perfectly plated Arthurian Knight? Ripped and stained fighting game character? Maybe a--

The fact the James set the scene perfectly and precisely would make itself obvious to Steve later, when his brain reconstituted from the fried and fizzled mess it made in his skull at the sight before him.

--

Every light in the bedroom was off, save for a lamp that had been placed slightly behind the chair that was now sitting by the window. The light glinted off metal plates and slid over black leather like water. Breath hissed softly through a matte black muzzle, and sharp blue eyes pinned Steve in place.

Steve felt light-headed, almost giddy from the rush of blood coursing downwards. Now he knew why James laughed when he brought up his costume choice. He gripped the doorframe as his knees started to buckle.

"Fucking hell," he whimpered as James uncrossed his legs and filled the chair, the room, and Steve's skull with his presence and the scents of leather and gunmetal. Two hands, one bare, one sheathed in a segmented metal glove, rested on the arms of the chair and flexed, just slightly.

"You're my mission," the words were soft, deep, and tinged with the most mild Russian accent.

--

They never made it to the party.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Happy Halloween, everybody.

[natjennie]

TAKE A BLACK MAN IN AMERICA, MAKE HIM A VAMPIRE. FUCK WITH THAT VAMPIRE AND SEE WHAT COMES OF IT.

[spookiekewchie]

Marvel Masterlist

None of my writing is suitable for minors, do not read or interact with my content if you are under the age of 18. Please be mindful of all content warnings listed on each post.

DO NOT repost or translate my work anywhere. Reblogs are always welcome, and let me know that you enjoy my fics.

🥵 - smut 🖤 - dark fic 💘 - fluff 😂 - humor 🌪️ - angst 💀 - horror

BUCKY BARNES 

never let me go...  🥵🖤

Bucky Barnes has wanted you since the first day he saw you. He has every intention to have you, even if it means taking extreme measures.

the dreadful need in the devotee (vampire!bucky/siren!reader)🥵🖤💀

It’s a dreadful need, and only you can fill it for him.

ETERNALS

untitled Druig x reader x Makkari fic 🥵

the one where you know you fucked up…

LOKI

Too Hot, Hot Damn  🥵

There’s a heatwave and you’re pretty sure this is what hell is like. Lucky for you there’s a frost giant willing to help you cool off in his own special way.

PETER PARKER

worth it (dark??tasm!spider-man x black!reader)

Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man decides to make you earn what you've stolen.

SAM WILSON

Daddy’s Girl  😂

You’re Sam Wilson’s girl, but you’re also Nick Fury’s daughter. 

All For You  🥵

Teasing Sam at a party has consequences, but those consequences are half the fun. 

Risk & Reward (mob!sam) 🥵🖤

Breaking up with a notorious mobster isn’t easy, especially when he refuses to accept the words “it’s over”.

Training Day  🥵

Just a simple sparring session with Sam, what could possibly go wrong...or right.

Caffeine Kisses ☕️ 💘

The one where you meet the new Captain America in a coffee shop

Shang-Chi

forever’s gonna start tonight 💘

a drunken night out at a karaoke bar ends with you meeting a mysterious yet sweet stranger

STEVE ROGERS

Fireworks 🥵

The adventures of mean!Steve and one bratty agent that he just can’t seem to get enough of. 

Fireworks , Sky Flyer (1.5), Barrage, Bombette

Music Theory 🥵implied

Steve walks into find you putting on a show, who knew the man would get inspired.

Cap vs the Grey Sweats 🥵implied

The one where Steve goes out looking like a hoochie in some grey sweats

Let me Upgrade You 🥵implied

The one where you get Steve to stop dressing like a grandpa.

look what you did 🌪️🥵mentioned

Steve's choices have consequences that he's too late to realize.

Imagines 🥵

Mean!Steve w/ an overtalkative reader Steve taking back control after losing a bet

Thor Odinson

no church in the wild 🥵🖤💀

You'd made it out of the small town that you'd grown up in, but when you're pulled back by circumstances beyond your control you realize that your grandmother was right. No one ever really leaves here, sweetpea. Something always brings them back.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Vampire Chris and jake get stranded in the middle of nowhere one night. Maybe a car crash or something. As they walk back the sun starts to rise.

CW: Car crash, bruising, seatbelt burn, vampire whumpee, caretaker turned whumpee

The moment of the crash is gone.

He opens his eyes to the aftermath.

Jake blinks, the world spinning, and his head drops back against the headrest of the driver's seat. The world is still lurching, sickeningly, in circles around him. Something is ticking, the engine maybe, slowly cooling down and shit, at least it's not on fire.

The air bag has a smear of terrible vibrant red against its pillowy white as it slowly deflates, and all he can do is stare at it until he realizes the blood must be his own.

One hand comes up to touch at his forehead, and his fingers come away wet and red, too. What he'd thought was sweat is a head wound, bleeding down one side, tickling his cheekbone and jaw. It stings, a little.

The pain seems distant, somehow, like it's being held at arm's length. As if he's looking at his pain from a distance further than he can close.

"Ch-... Chris, you okay, buddy?" He turns, and the passenger seat is empty. The air bag deployed on that side, but there's no blood.

The door is standing open, dome light still on. It takes a long few moments of staring before he can understand that the door is open because Chris forced it open, closed his hands on the metal and squeezed until it bent beneath his strength and let him out.

Jake's body aches as he shifts forwards, fumbling to unbuckle his seatbelt. All the pain is filtering into his senses, piece by piece as if he can only understand a wound once he sees it.

He can't remember the crash.

They were at a four-way stop, listening to some of the terrible pop music Chris loves about the modern world, and Jake had pulled through. They were laughing at some lyric that Jake had had to explain, that had made the little vampire boy flush a little at the definition.

Then there were headlights blinding him, overtaking everything. Chris had yelled something and Jake had yelled something and then-

The moment is gone.

So is the entire back half of his car.

He turns around with a hiss to stare right out a giant gaping hole where his backseat should be into the cool, clear night.

Parts of his car are strewn haphazardly across the road and the grassy ditch he's come to a stop in. As he looks, he can see the frame of a door, crumbled metal that must be his trunk, a tire. Another tire. The bumper on the ground. Glass and metal everywhere.

The stop signs at the fourway are all standing totally untouched, except for one bent at a hard angle, leaning like a man fighting a strong wind.

The sweater he'd been wearing when he got in the car - removed and tossed carelessly in the backseat to pick up later - is hanging off the bent stop sign.

It's fucking spotlessly clean still.

He blinks.

Blinks some more.

What the fuck?

He'd driven Chris up into the hills to go star-gazing, making the most of Chris's bubbly energy that only comes out at night and his classes being canceled tomorrow because of some issue with the campus water supply. This is countryside up here, with houses miles and miles apart. Remnants of old orchards and homesteads, still kept by the descendants of the men and women who traveled out here. Nobody drives out this way this late. It could be morning before someone finds him.

His phone. He can call for help.

Jake looks around, but his phone is nowhere to be seen. He digs around the footwell, what he can touch of it, and there's nothing. Nothing nothing nothing.

His windshield is shattered, open to the outside, and he wonders if his phone flew out of it. It was on the dash, wasn't it? On Chris's side...

Shit.

It could be anywhere in the grass, and he's a fucking moron who keeps his phone on silent or vibrate 24 hours a day. He'll never hear it out here.

First things first, then.

He settles for trying to open his door.

It's been crunched, just a little. Enough that it won't swing out, and he has to throw his shoulder against it, grunting in pain, again and again until finally it nudges just enough for him to fall onto shattered tiny squares of safety glass on the ground. A water bottle is lying there. It's Dasani.

He hates Dasani water, but it'd been free at the gas station they'd stopped at if he bought a bag of chips, so...

Oh, right. His car is full of fucking gasoline.

He groans, scrambling away from the vehicle, trying to remember what a safe distance will be if his car catches on fire or fucking explodes in the middle of the night. At least if it explodes it'll get someone's attention, right?

Shit, he's going to throw up.

Jake lays there, waiting for his stomach to settle, and then crawls again. He makes it up to the road, to the rough asphalt and the gravel that lines the side. The little pebbles sting his palms, rub dirt and dust into the cuts, but he ignores it.

He makes it to the road, twenty feet or so from his car, and then... then he just lays down.

"Chris..." He can barely think. Where has the little vampire gone? Why isn't he here, creeping out of the treeline to ask if Jake's all right? Did he run? Maybe he has Jake's phone. Maybe there was no signal and he's gone to try and find some, to make a call.

Maybe...

Fuck, it hurts to think.

Even just taking a deep breath hurts - something's wrong with his ribs. Bruised or broken. When he pulls his shirt up, he can see the seatbelt burn starting to deepen in color, a diagonal stripe from shoulder to hip written in bright red darkening to burgundy bruising, soon to turn purple and black. If he hadn't been wearing a heavy shirt it'd have torn his skin open. One side of his neck is rubbed raw, he can tell when he touches it and has to pull his fingers away at the spike of pain.

There are spots of dark on his pale shirt, blood seeping through or dripping from his forehead.

But, shit. It could be worse. Looking at the back half of his car, it seems like a goddamn miracle that it isn't.

Jake pulls his legs under him and tries to stand up.

His right leg just won't fucking do it.

Rather than take his weight, it buckles with a spike of pain so bad Jake cries out and collapses back onto the road.

As if it were a dam breaking, all the adrenaline holding off the worst of the pain seems to wear away at once.

Everything hurts, suddenly, a sickening wash of pain breaking against him like he's nothing but a shell to be worn to sand. He aches when he breathes, when he doesn't. A cough makes him whimper as his ribs creak and crack. His head throbs, his hands sting, his leg is swelling even as he looks at it, a broken bone. Definitely a broken bone.

"Jesus Christ," He groans, rolling onto his side, his face pressing into gravel and safety glass.

Nat won't notice they're not home until morning.

No one's going to know he's out here until after sunrise, until he's not up to get ready for class and Chris isn't curled up in the closet to sleep in his nest of blankets and pillows. No one's going to know what happened, and where the everloving fuck did his phone go?

Time passes. He doesn't know how much.

Maybe Chris figured they can't protect him and took the fuck off. Maybe he's going to find somewhere new to crash, some new people to care for him. Maybe he's hunting.

Who the fuck knows?

He comes and goes, in and out of consciousness.

He can't stand, and sort of scooting and crawling around does nothing to help him figure out where his cell phone has gone. No one else drives by on this mostly-abandoned country road, and it was a stroke of seriously bad luck the asshole who hit them and ran was there at all.

Asshole was probably drunk, driving back from the bar, trying to use the backroads to avoid the goddamn cops.

Bad. Fucking. Luck.

Jake wonders if the asshole will even remember hitting his car in the morning, or if he'll wake up and discover the front of his vehicle all fucked up and have no idea how it happened.

He thinks he might pass clean out for a while.

That can't be good.

His head hurts worse when he wakes up.

He raises his head slowly at the sound of a distant rumble, an ancient truck engine coming closer. It takes more effort than he ever imagined just to get himself up to sitting, ready to wave down whoever it is - whatever fucking angel is on this road at what has to be 3 or 4 in the morning by now.

"Please," He whispers, dry lips scraping against each other. "Please, please don't run m'over... please..."

Headlights wash over the scene of the crash, fading everything to nearly black-and-white. Jake raises a hand to shield his eyes, blinking rapidly, as the blue-and-white Ford comes to an idling stop.

A door swings open with a creak and then slams shut again, boots crunching on the glass and debris on the road. Jake raises his eyes to see an old man in worn jeans and a grayish t-shirt staring down at him. "Well, I'll be damned," The man says, his voice low, a little rough around the edges. His hair's dark, but speckled with silver that's visible even in the night air. "You all right, son?"

Jake slowly looks back at his wrecked, ruined car, then back up at the man. "I'm pretty clearly not," He answers, then winces at his rudeness. "Sorry. I mean... no."

"That's all right. We all of us get a little more honest when we're bleeding from the skull. I'm gonna bet you aren't a natural brunette and I'm looking at a big old ton of blood there. What happened?"

"Guy ran the stop sign, hit me... drove off."

"Well, damn. What're you doin' up this way this late at night?"

"Would you... y'believe me if I said... star-gazin'?"

The man chuckles, but it's a low sound, and he moves closer. He pulls a heavy old cell phone out of his pocket - one of those goddamn flip phones that never dies or gets destroyed. It's like Captain Fucking America. Jake has to hold back a half-hysterical laugh.

"Hm, I might. It happens from time to time. Y'didn't come with a young lady, did you?" The man looks over the scene of the crash, searching for more people.

"No, no... just... jus'... I'm just here." He thinks of Chris, the open passenger door, the total lack of a vampire nearby. Is he hiding in the woods? If he's seen, or found out, he'll be hauled back off to be locked up somewhere, milked for venom for pharmaceutical drugs, treated like an animal. They can't admit he was here, he can't be seen. He must be hiding.

That's it.

Chris must just be hiding...

"Please, man, I-I can't find my phone to call for help-"

"I got you, son. I'll make the call. Likely your phone's just buried in the grass somewhere, we'll figure it out. You stay put right where you are, you don't want to move around and make any of it worse."

"Yes, sir." Jake stays where he is while the old man makes the call to 911, feeding him details when he asks, staring off into space when he doesn't.

They can pick Chris up when he and Nat come to get his stuff from the wreck tomorrow. They'll get him then. It'll be fine.

It'll be fine.

The old man hangs up and heads back to his truck, pulling out a battered old first aid kit. "You're lucky I believe in ghosts, you know."

"What? Why? Am I dead?" Jake looks down at his hands. They're scratched and bleeding, and he's pretty sure dead people don't bleed like that.

"No, son, no. But I wouldn't be out here if I didn't."

Jake blinks. "I... I don't follow."

"Well, had a little ghost show up at my bedroom window and refuse to shut up until I drove out here. Redheaded boy. Kept calling for a medic. Felt like I was back in the war for a minute before I realized it was him."

"Which... which war?"

The man fixes him with a stare as he crouches, old knees cracking as he does, in front of Jake. He opens the box and takes out some gauze and adhesive, antibiotic cream, something else Jake doesn't recognize. "You need medics in every kind of war there is, son. It doesn't matter which one. I've fought in two. But this boy called for a medic like he's seen the need for 'em before and didn't have time to save someone. Some kind of old ghost walkin' these roads saw you and made sure I knew."

Jake exhales, almost a laugh, and feels tears burn hot in his eyes. He realizes he's going to cry from sheer relief and exhaustion and pain, and he's not sure he can stop.

A ghost in the window means...

Chris left and ran for help.

"Thank you," he whispers, and he's not really talking to the old man at all.

-

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @insaneinthepaingame @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @pretty-face-breaker @endless-whump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @doveotions @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @what-a-whump

[fluorescentpipedream]

I kind of like this picture better for Aurelio, it’s more campy but it’s kind of indicative of his personality too. And honestly if I was approaching 1300 I’d be a little weird too. He is apparently preparing to host a “Vampire Ball birthday party” and invited vampires and a lot of his Tiktok followers as well, just told the vampires to behave themselves, it’s not a hunting ground. While most of his followers think he’s playing a character, there are some who know what he is. But he will have a massive cake, themed drinks (and a special bartender for his otherworldly guests) and make it a big thing. He also sent invitations to Ryki & Kristy, since they’re being invited to the Council meeting the same week. One of the other reasons Ryki is invited is because Aurelio wants his band to perform, he has a stage set up for local bands and then he’s going to do a few too.

Now…*cracks knuckles* Skinner Sweet has been telling me things. Skinner’s rebirth into the first American Vampire (not the first vampire from America “there are fucking terrifying Quetzalcoatl Native motherfuckers out in the west”) happened in 1880, around the height of the gold rush. He and his posse were jumped by a group of European blood suckers and massacred for their meal, and in the struggle with Skinner one of them landed a couple of drops of his vampiric blood in an open wound. Since Skinner was subsequently killed moments later the vamp thought little else about it. The two surviving members of the posse carried their leader’s body to their hideout, a buried train car, and left him there to be forgotten about, jokingly saying if anyone in the future found him, they’d think him a king, surrounded by all his treasure. (The two ultimately died, one of them turning into a vampire, eating his former friend and then joining those that made him.) 

Skinner wasn’t exactly dead but it took a little while for his new vampiric strain to fully take over his blood, since he wasn’t bitten and it was only a few stray drops that got into a bloody scratch. In 1885 that Skinner woke up ravenous and angry and it didn’t take him long to hunt down the same European vampires and massacre them tearing them to shreds in his new form. Skinner also found out that a former member of his posse, Gene “Beau” Finely took a good portion of the gang’s gold and has used it to make himself look bigger and better than he is. He’s been trying to hunt the bastard down and thinks it’s high time Beau learns exactly what became of his former leader. In his inability to control the thirst and his bloodlust he leveled the small town in Colorado where he’d tracked the vampires, now leaving nothing more than ghost stories and an abandoned town. He goes there sometimes, and eventually uses it as a hideout when he needs to let some time pass. 

Skinner was on a rampage until 1887 when he happened upon a bloody, half dead Irish woman on the side of the road scrambling for a gun to fight off a massive bear. Against his better judgement, and really for no reason he can put a finger on at first he hops off his horse and shifts his hand into claws, slashing through the bear. As the blood sprays into the air, he looks down at the woman and grins at her, the shock of seeing him and the near death experience with the bear causes her to black out. Skinner finds it funny at first and takes the woman back to his camp, simply tossing her body over the back of his horse and carrying her off. When she awakens again he’s sitting across from her with a fire burning, her wounds tended to and he’s chewing on a long stick of peppermint, talking to the man who keeps his camp running when he’s not around. He had apparently gone back for the bear as well and it’s currently being turned into a coat. After taking to Irene for a bit, they don’t immediately agree to travel together but seem to be going in the same direction most of the time. He finds her company amusing and eventually tells her he’s a bank robber, known as Skinner Sweet (he had been letting her call him Fancy Man, since he’s almost always wearing a gator skin coat, boots and the rest). Skinner ends up settling down with Irene for what remains of her life, though she does know he’s a vampire, he tells her after she sees him turn into a monstrous form while working the bounty mission looking for the Wolf Man. She didn’t run from him, which surprised Skinner a little but instead she seemed to feel safer with him being like that. Go figure. 

Irene is the first time Skinner has been in love, and helped him come to the conclusion that while his heart may have slowed (somehow it never has stopped, but beats so little it might as well be), it’s not dead and he can still feel something for someone else. She passes from the world in the 1920s I think, before he meets his little actress protégé, Pearl, using her to get back at some of the other vampires who made him into what he is. In their time together, Skinner was never tempted to make her, he didn’t want to grow to hate her, but instead they lived up in Canada, far from the rest of the world so no one ever wondered who the man was that never aged. They did take on some young workers and treated them like they were the couples’ children, though eventually those kids would move on before they learned too much about what Skinner was. 

Despite spending a good portion of the ‘30s and ‘40s in Las Vegas and using the moniker Jim Smoke there, Skinner does eventually sleep for a while, returning to that ghost town in Colorado for a time before heading back up to the old cabin in the backwoods of Ontario where he and Irene had once lived. It appears, from the outside to be nothing more than an old, rundown and abandoned cabin, and he prefers it that way. Skinner had a mind to stay there, still as stone but eventually got restless around the early 2000s, and with all the movements of the demons and vampires at the time he wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Venturing into New Orleans, he meets Danielle deArithorn (again, it takes him a little before he recognizes her as the Red Woman from his cowboy days) and finds her interesting to say the least. 

[fanficlibraryposts]

Larry Stylinson(1D) Fic Recs

sleeping on our problems by falsegoodnight

I’m in love with you, Louis thinks. He feels empty, weighed down by his sadness and the loss of Harry inside him just moments ago before his knot finally went down. There’s moments where he’s sure Harry feels the same. Like now, when he’s gazing down at Louis with so much adoration and tenderness. It’s like they’re both on the cusp of something more, but neither of them ever say a word. His confession is on the tip of his tongue ready to slide out like honey, and yet he remains silent. They both do, looking at each other and recognizing the reluctance mirrored in each other’s eyes. It’s then that Louis realizes they’re both scared.

-

Or Louis sleeps with Harry and they have more than just catching feelings to worry about.

*A/B/O au, so soft and fluffy with just a dash of angst*

Foolishly, Completely Falling by dea_liberty

"Now that he’s actually gone and done it, there seems to be no way of going back - no rinse and repeat, no ctrl+alt+del, no abort button, no help to be had. He’s fallen into a black hole and he cannot seem to find a way out. The black hole is also known as Tumblr. More specifically, it’s known as Tumblr’s Larry Stylinson tag."

OR: The one where Louis becomes a Larry shipper by accident.

Put It All On Me by LoadedGunn

 "Yeah, yeah, give it to me, that's it, spread your legs a bit, there you go."

 The camera follows Louis as he does. Maybe if the modelling thing doesn't work out, he could try the porn industry. Then again, he's a bit too stocky to be twinky and a bit too twinky to be anything else. He likes that about himself, though. Well, directors and photographers like that about him. He could pull off pretty and edgy, could do GQ in the morning and a perfume commercial in the afternoon. Right now he thinks he could pull off anything, because it's Harry fucking Styles directing him.

Or, a Top Model AU where Louis is accidentally there to make friends, not become Britain's Next Top Model. (Also Zayn is the supermodel host.)

Promises We Made by thekindofworld

Its been five years since Harry and Louis broke up; they were seventeen and nineteen and it was messy to say the least. Cue Louis, who is worked off his feet making clothes for celebrities, Harry dropping his debut album, Niall who likes to avoid his insecurities by dragging Louis on Holiday, Zayn and Perrie as Louis' right hand stylists, and Liam who wishes Harry would just tell him about his ex-boyfriends before he contacts them about working for him.

Its either going to be a disaster, or the perfect timing they've all been waiting for.

*I’ve been very into fashion au lately*

but me, i’m not a gamble by orphan_account

A Posh & Becks AU in which Harry is a star on the stage and Louis is a star on the pitch, but they're both inexplicably terrible at articulating their feelings. In the end, it only takes a season's worth of failed matchmaking schemes, platonic dinner dates, road trip holidays, and one very convenient David Beckham cameo for them to figure it all out. And if Niall knew all along? Well, he at least has the decency not to be too smug about it.

Boys Fall From the Sky by fookinloosah

Superheroes. America is full of them — complete with masks, nauseating pseudonyms, and neon spandex suits. There’s none of that nonsense in Britain, thank you very much…until Harry Styles’ X Factor audition takes an unexpected turn, and Britain’s first hero is born.  

Also featuring Louis as a man of many masks, Zayn the rebel comic artist, Liam as Britain’s counter-attack to Justin Bieber, and Niall the trusty guitarist.

*I adore this fic, one my all time favorites*

The Last Something That Anything by jaded25

"You know my heart - so tell me honestly, did you ever really want this? So I’ll sing this song for every word that comes out wrong But I’ll be okay – is that what you want me to say?"

In the end, it's neither the fame or the pressure, nor Management or the constant hiding and denying that tears them apart. Or maybe it's a sum of all  and so much more on top. In the end, it's Harry.

When Harry leaves the band - leaves Louis - to pursue his dreams of a solo career, he breaks much more  than just One Direction. It's a gamble and a new start for each of the boys but while Harry walked away smiling, finally having got everything he apparently dreamt of, Louis is left to pick the pieces up.

Some hearts don't break even, some are simply shattered. So can you really learn to un-love someone?

*So deliciously angsty*

no pressure, no diamonds by karamelised

A life of crime means there is no nine to five, no white picket fence and definitely no happily ever after. In a life where lying gets you everywhere and stealing things becomes a sport, there is no place for romantic endings. Louis knows this, and so does Harry. Problem is, they're both wrong.

or

Louis is a thief, Harry a grifter. They are thrown together for a huge diamond heist in Paris, where their past soon catches up to them.

Blood Right by Evina1234

“Is that-him?” someone next to Louis asks. “Who else would dress in red if not for him today?” Beside Louis, Lady Camellia had her eyes locked on the one in red garbs, as same as many around them. Clearly this must be intended, or why dress in such a way today at first place? “My... He looks dashing." the first one licks her lips, eyes darkening in a laced lust. "Who would've known? Thought he'd be in chains, stuck in a dark dungeon." The other scoffs. “Have you been under a rock? He's the most privileged Lycan alive. The King's ward, some go so far as to call him his consort. It’s all hushed, but I have my sources.” she reveals like a dirty secret. In a world where the Vampires have taken over, Humans are just pawns in blood farms, Warlocks are extinct while the King has Lycans under his thumb - eliminating the threat of the lethal bite. The world is falling apart. Louis, nephew to the malistic Vampire King, lives away from it all in blessed ignorance until he gets dragged into the chessboard that traps him in front of a green eyed Prince who is bound to a miserable fate. Or where Louis wants to save Harold, the Prince of Lycans, when Louis' allies want him DEAD 

*super intense, vampire au with political intrigue mixed in*

the one that leads me on through by colourexplosion

Louis was certain that he was done with his tenuous connection with fellow skater, Harry Styles. But then, you know, the universe throws a wrench in all that when Simon takes Harry on for the next season.

Or, an AU in which the members of one direction are actually figure skaters.

Disclaimer: The fanfiction above were not written by me for I am not nearly as creative. However, I am an avid reader and movie buff so these are some of my favorite fanfiction within the fandom. I politely ask that you read the tags attached the fanfiction beforehand so that you know what you are getting yourself into, there may be crossovers. If you don’t like it then don’t read it. In addition, I ask that there be no bashing, the fics are based on my preferences and what I like. Lastly, if there are any specific genre or fandom of fics you want me to get into let me know through my ask box.