#Vampire!Shepard

[wrathbites]

"What do you see?" Kaidan mumbles, face half-mashed into his pillow.

I see what I'm not supposed to - the pulse flutter in your throat - what I'd be killed for if most others knew. The throb at your temple, too, before you rub your forehead. A weakness I'll never exploit. I see the crease of pain in the corner of your left eye and the pinch around your mouth when you resolve to grin and bear it. I hate it. Fuck but I hate it.

I see the hunch of your shoulders loosen in sleep's hold, the tension of every muscle unspooling one drawn out breath at a time as one more migraine recedes. I see the rogue curls you've missed, coming loose with every twist and turn in the sheets.

I see the faintest of smiles, slow and lazy in sleep, in daze, the twitch of your fingers when they loosen from your pillow. The ache still lingering, but less than it was. You'll stay where you are, for another hour yet, weary and sore and heavy, eyes falling shut in too-long blinks and I don't have the heart to wake you proper.

I see my whole world in your life, every minute a gift.

"I see you," Rhys says instead.

[blakelyohgee]

My beautiful boys by @killer-laurent! I love them!!

Dante

Jax

Rhys

Commissions for @blakelyohgee

[hel-unleashed]

I made these couple icons for a local con I'm attending next week, so feel free to use them!

If you do, just remember to credit me ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ

[weirdlookindog]

The Werewolf Versus the Vampire Woman (La noche de Walpurgis, 1971) - Pressbook cover

[sleepyphobzz]

Guys we should make something called snowvember for the simon snow fandom we need more than coc/cotta & i think this is a great idea

[elven-butts]

OCtober day 17 - lips

[blackmetalvampire]

🦇 PATTY SHEPARD ⚰️ 🎬 NOCHE DE WALPURGIS (1971)

[wr1t3w1tm3]

The Outsiders Vampire AU - V4

Oh boy, it's been a while. I need something to do that isn't studying or crocheting (which I turned into a side hustle whoospie).

@crow2222 and @marmaladedcroissant. It is finished. Enjoy.

No one knows when. They only know it was Paul. That it was probably before their parents died.

He'd explained that they continued aging until 25, but from there any further "aging" was really shapeshifting.

He was never sure whether he'd really agreed to it or if Paul had just gone and done it any who. It must've been around his senior year of high school, because he remembers drinking with Paul and a bunch of his Soc buddies. That was back when he'd dressed like 'em, though his pants were dirt cheap, and the sweaters hand knit by a grandmother in Minneapolis. There was a bonfire and laughter and plenty of fun...

The next thing he's certain of was Paul waking him up, and the world was too bright and too loud and it hurt awful bad to sit up.

He's inclined to believe he drunkely agreed, because for what felt like an eternity in a moment, Paul taught him how to thrive. He gave him a charm that warded away the sun, he taught him to shift his appearance and even shape. He showed him how to hunt. Showed him a family that didn't fight, that played hard and looked out for each other.

Then he lost his parents and was forced to tend to his own. And when he had to drop out of college, and he couldn't go out every night for parties and hunts and took up not one, but two jobs, he was left alone. A monster with two children in his charge.

One year an adult. A monster. Alone.

Soda made it easier for him. He dropped out of school, got a job, and stayed away most the time. With two jobs he wasn't in the house very often either, but that meant he wasn't eating consistently. More often than he was comfortable he found himself watching Ponyboy's neck when he swallowed, how the veins popped when he got fed up with a problem or when he laughed at the stupidity of the latest stories protagonist.

He'd nearly lost control a few times. More times than he was comfortable. He'd kick himself, he'd waited to long but how couldn't he? He had to work and take care of his brothers and go get the groceries and, and, and...!

Rage crawled under his skin for months. He was angry at his parents for dying on him. Angry at Ponyboy for not taking things seriously. The boy was thirteen going on fourteen and couldn't get his damn head outta the clouds. Even angry at Soda, for staying with that no good "girl" a' his. Sandy. Yeah, he'll marry her when he can walk back out under the sun unaided again.

He was scared from the moment his parents died. Scared the state would take his brothers. Scared they'd find out what he'd turned himself into. Scared that he'd loose control. How'd they make rent this month? Oh himself. He's scared of and for him and his own.

He could hear their hearts beating. Every night when he laid in his bed - no longer able to sleep - he'd key into their hearts, to the blood flowing through their veins. He couldn't always do it, it had to be especially quiet, and he had to concentrate very, very hard. It made the short nights long and the long ones fly by. Before he knew it his eternal enemy would peak from under the window and Pony would roll out of bed to the shower. He'd make breakfast and hurry his kid brothers out the door, then search for his own breakfast if he had the time.

Living in the city sucked sometimes. He couldn't take people - though he had with Paul - but there wasn't anything big enough to satisfy him. A couple squirrels, somebodies' stray dog.

God, he hated it sometimes. But it had to be done.

He'd still see Paul on occasion. If he worked near the West side and Paul was blowing class to day drink, a blue Mustang would more often than not fly through their job site. It'd rile up the guys, and Paul would catch his cold eyes with his laughing ones.

He remained stone faced, unwilling to give Paul his jimmies.

One day, Paul's buddies drove by without him, sloshing liquor on them and hootin' and a hoolerin'. He'd watched them sternly as they drove off and returned to work as he'd always done. Except this time, they got off early. This time, he went home.

This time, Ponyboy got jumped.

Soda, Steve, and Two-Bit got there first. Just a few doors down. Johnny stopped short, nearly trippin' him. Dally dropped in, coming from the direction of the reformatory. He threw a tree branch as the Soc's drove off.

Soda gets to Pony first. "They didn't get you too bad, did they?" Pony shakes his head. There's a nick just under his chin. The scent finally wafts his direction.

Darry swallows and steps forward to console them. He scolds Pony for walking home alone. For not carrying a blade. "Yeah, that'd give the Soc's even more reason to cut him up there."

He snaps "If I wanted my kid brother to tell me how to handle my other kid brother I'd ask, kid brother." He storms inside, swallowing again. He'd eaten that morning. He wasn't satisfied, but he shouldn't be this hungry.

Being angry didn't help.

He manages to cool off, listening to the rest of the conversation. Soda made plans without telling him, of course. That Steve, who he's sure hates Pony from the way he's heard him talk to Soda, is going with, and invites Dally. But his girl two-timed him in jail again. He'd figured.

After he finally pulls himself together, he calls to Pony through the front door. "You've got homework," he reminds. Damn kid don't get it. He's gotta get his head outta the clouds.

The next day he goes to the drive in with Dally. Then Dally shows up, licking his wounds from a fight with Tim Sheppard, that son of a bitch. Pony isn't with him. Eleven o'clock comes and goes, at midnight the tv stops broadcasting. Near one he calls Tim and gets Curly, asking if he'd seen Pony. Curly says he ain't.

Soda comes in about then. "You seen Ponyboy?"

He shrugs. "Nah. He went to the Dingo with Dal n' Johnny."

Darry bristles, running his tongue of his teeth. "Dally was just over here. Tim got back at him for his tires."

"Sheesh." Soda steps into the bathroom.

"Dally ain't seen 'im since the Dingo. Sheppard ain't seen 'im either."

"Relax, Dare, he's probably at the lot 'er somethin'. He'll be back."

He snorts. "He better."

Pony wobbles in about two. He smells like woodsmoke and cigarettes. Soda's asleep on the couch. He shouldn't have been out this late... too damn late...

"Where the hell have you been?"

"I was with Johnny. We got to talkin' an' I feel asleep in the lot."

"You know what time it is?" He snaps "Well it's two o'clock in the morning kiddo."

His octave rises with the next line, and he spirals about how he'd almost called the police. How they'd've thrown him n' Soda into a boys home so quick their heads woulda spun! And where would that leave him, huh? Alone. A monster. Really alone this time. No one to care for. No one to keep him in check. He'd... he'd...!

He hadn't eaten. He was starving. Pony tried to squeak past to the bathroom. Soda yells, he's not sure what. He smells blood on Pony, not his, he'll realize later, and he goes to grab Pony's shoulders.

He manages to grapple his senses and only pushes his littlest brother. He topples to the floor, a heap. Soda freezes, panting. He realizes he's panting.

He'd hit Ponyboy.

No.

He'd almost eaten him.

He stammers, as if an apology will do any good. "Pony..."

The kid bolts. Rightfully so. He follows him to the door, the cold breeze breaks through to his hot head. He takes a deep breath.

What has he done.

Soda pushes up next to him on the porch. Would he still stand there if he knew what he'd almost done? Or would he run away too? God, had Pony seen anything? His eyes? His teeth maybe? Shit shit shit!!!

He starts towards the steps. A hand grabs his shoulder. "Give 'em a minute."

Darry scoffs. "Yur right," he admits, turning to Sodapop. "I... I'm sorry."

Soda shakes his head. His eyes are sad, there look to be tears near the creases. "Ain't me you should be 'pologizin' too."

And he's right. He'll just have to wait for Ponyboy to come home.

Except he doesn't. Soda slips off to sleep around three, when he assures him when Pony gets back he'll wake him up. Not long after, he slips out, searching for something to eat.

The scent of blood is strangely forthwith. It puts him on edge. He slips through the neighborhood, searching for the source.

It's a Soc, lying next to the fountain a couple blocks from their house. He's very dead. But his body ain't more than a couple hours that way.

He glances around and listens closely. A dog barks several blocks away, and everyone else around is sleeping soundly. Except one, who grumbles about Mickey Mouse and is probably Two-Bit a block away.

Plenty of time. Darry takes up the body, and finds the notch in his neck that felled the boy. It's a Soc he recognizes - Bob. Somebody Paul used to pal around with. A part of him doesn't want to take from Bob. There's not much, and he's probably got time to find something larger if he hustles. Wait. Has anybody reported this? What if the cops are on there way right now?

But here it is, and here is he. He can be quick. There isn't much left.

He is able to use the stab wound, leaving no trace of his interference. When he stands there is blood on his jeans. He growls, wipping the corner of his mouth. He pauses, listens. Nothing is out of the ordinary. All is well.

Darry sprints home, back in just a few seconds.

Still no sign of Ponyboy.

The next morning someone bangs at the door. He goes to answer and is met by Dally with bloodshot eyes. Damn, he hasn't slept well.

"What's wrong Dallas?" He turns the latch on the screen. Dally bursts in, his eyes careening around the house. Searching for something.

He stops to listen, and nearby, there is clamor. They must've found the body at the fountain. He shuts the door, watching Dally. "Whats wrong?" He crosses his arms.

Dally shrugs, toppling into the armchair he usually uses. "Nothin' man. Just... was at a party most a' da night. Didn't get much sleep."

Soda comes out, half dressed and anxious. "Pony's not back."

"I know, Pepsi Cola..."

"He never came home?!" Soda's voice shoots up an octave.

"Now hold on..."

"Easy Sodapop," Dally intervenes, which angers Darry. "He was with Two-Bit 'n Johnny at the Dingo when I left. He prolly just ended up at 'Bit's..."

"He ran away," Soda cuts him off, "Darry pushed 'im an'..."

Someone raps loudly at the door. A dog down the street begins barking its head off. Its a straight shot to the door, so they all see the two officers standing at the door.

Darry's stomach falls. Dally mutters "shit" when Darry steps up to the door, opening the screen. "Officers?"

"Is Dallas Winston here?"

Darry stops. Surely they would've checked Buck Merril's place first, right? That was where he rented a room... Did they see him walk in? Shit, if Dally got them wrapped up in...

"Gentlemen," Dally steps up behind him, smirking at the cops from over his shoulder. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He lights up as the taller officer speaks, "We've got some questions for you at the station Dallas. And you'll come along peaceful now or you know right where you'll end up."

"Yeah, yeah," he puffs out into Darry's face. "I'll come. I'm comin'." He pushes Darry out of the way and follows the officers to their patrol car. Its parked right in front of the house. They saw him walk in then. Shit. Just great.

It's only after Two-Bit drops by looking for Pony and Johnny that they realize why Dally was brought in. He must be related to their disappearances. Darry drills Dallas as soon as he decides to reappear back at his house, but Dally's lips are sealed tighter than a clam. Darry tries to press, and Dally leaves.

The next morning, Steve drops by to grab Soda and brings with him the morning paper. On the front page are Johnny and Pony's picture day photos. And in bold, capital letters:

LOCAL DELINQUENTS WANTED IN SATURDAY NIGHT KILLING CASE

The article relates what is believed to have happened to Bob Evans. How Johnny Cade and Ponyboy Curtis attacked the boy and killed him. His friends talk about how they were just driving by, and the boys dragged Bob from the car and tried to drown him. Then, how Johnny had drawn a blade and killed him.

"Cade and Curtis are believed to have fled south, to Texas," Darry reads, "If the public has any information, they are encouraged to contact police. There is a 250 dollar reward for such information that would lead to their capture."

"Well, we know where they're headin'," Soda shoots up. Two-Bit with him, twirlin' the keys to his piece of shit Plymouth."

"Like Hell you are!" Darry shouts. He slams the front door. Two-Bit jumps in his face.

"Come on man, move!"

"No! Do you have any idea what'll happen if I loose Pony and Soda? They'll throw you in a boys home before you get back!"

Soda protests. "They're gonna throw Pony in jail if they catch 'im!"

"You lookin' to lead 'em to him?" Darry shouts.

"Whoa, easy. Easy." Dally, slips between Darry and the two boys. Two bit stumbles back a step. Darry notices he looks rather pale. Shit. Did... did his eyes...?

He hopes he didn't just betray himself. It's likely Two-Bit didn't see anything, but... but he does look awful pale now, doesn't he.

"...I have it on good authority that Johnny' n' Pony are safe. Ya dig?"

"N' how are we supposed to believe you, Dallas?" Steve butts in, hot headed as always.

Darry jumps in too. "Know somethin' we don't?"

"Maybe I do," Dally smirks, glancing at him, then at Soda. "Or maybe I don't. Any hows, I ain't 'nclined ta tell ya nothin', either."

So Dally pawns with them for the rest of the week. The papers continue to cover the story, but luckily it gets smaller and smaller, and moves closer to the back page. Maybe once everything lets up Dally will finally let onto just what he knows.

It's a rather rough week for all of them, but Darry especially struggles. He'd been the reason Pony went an' ran off. He's the reason he's missing, though the state people don't know that. Everyone knows something it seems, but nobodies telling anybody anything. The stupid web is fraught with lies and Darry'd much rather cut his way out, but he can't. His nerves dance all week as he tries to focus on work, but between Pony disappearin' and him being starvin' half the time, he can barely concentrate enough to keep from ripping somebodies head off.

Then they get a call from the hospital, telling them a Ponyboy Curtis has been brought in for smoke inhalation and minor burns. He's alive. He's alive!

Darry hauls ass in that pick-up the same way he used to when he'd raced with Paul an' his friends. The whole time, his thoughts are frought with worry. What'll Pony think? Does he still blame him for that? He'd been mad, and he knew that was no excuse... and Pony had been out when he shouldn't've been. What would the state people say? Had Pony seen him? His eyes were what would give him away, surely...

Soda hurries inside to find Pony, and Darry promises to find him after he calls the state people. He finds a payphone and dials that number he'd been given by the cops for if Pony ever showed up.

"Yeah... he's just been brought into the hospital. They're treatin' 'im for ah, burns and the likes."

"Very well. He'll be allowed to remain in your custody for the time being. We'll contact you in the next week with details pertaining to his court case."

"Right now." Darry inhales sharply. He should've seen it coming. "You have a good night."

"You as well, Mr. Curtis. Good night."

He licks his lips when he puts up the reciever. That's what everyone called his dad. It didn't sound right on him.

He turns to head to the waiting room and see if the nurse can give him Pony's room number. In the smack-dab-center of the hall are Soda and Pony, embracing fiercly. The flourescent flickers above them. Pony's fine. Pony's alright. He can hear his heart beat, even feel it against his chest. He's warm in his arms, and so is Sodapop.

The Curtis brothers embrace, and Darry breaths through tears the only fear bigger than that of himself "I thought we lost you."

The poor boy is exhuasted. He falls alseep on the way home, and Darry carries the boy to his bed. He's weighs nothing, even dead as a doornail, and Darry's stronger now than he'd ever been when his heart beat.

Monsters didn't have hearts, then why did he care for his kid brothers so much?

The next day is the rumble. It's worried him the whole week. There's been whispers that Paul might be there, even though the rumbles mostly with the highschool age kids. He sure as hell ain't in highschool age though, and neither is Two-Bit, even if he still attends. Dally won't be joining because he's still in the hospital, and he already knew Johnny wouldn't fight. Tim Sheppard drops in early that morning to speak with him.

His eyes are natural when he arrives. The black where they should be white and red where they should be brown. That is how they naturally appear, and they're ears also point like the elves in the books Ponyboy likes to read. But the eyes are more subtle, easier to signal with.

Darry lets his guard fall, and for a moment, his eyes match Tims. To his knowledge, he was also born this way, same as Paul; except he was born only recently, and he was the only one in his family. Angela and Curly both were normal, just like Ponyboy and Sodapop.

"What are the odds?" Tim asks, flipping open the newspaper he grabbed from the driveway.

"Should be 'bout even. Your outfit, mine, and the Brumley Boys," Darry rubs his neck, mulling over how odd it is to claim the little group of misfits he mother gooses around as an outfit. "Any others?"

"Other outfits?" Tim raises an eyebrow.

"Others like us," Darry hisses. Tim smirks. Unlike Darry, he's accepted his lot in life. Maybe because he didn't have anything too miss.

"I don't know which of Paul's buddies are gonna be there. You got your blade?"

He flips the page. Darry nods, heading back to his bedroom. "Yeah, I got it."

He grabs it from under his pillow. It's magic, from the Phillipines or somethin'. Tim called it a butterfly knife cause it was precise enough to chop a butterfly's wings clear off.

He hadn't been very careful after his parents died. Just a couple months deep Tim had caught him outside of town, hunting near a cattle yard or something. He couldn't remember now. Tim was the first vamp he'd met that wasn't a Soc. Still, he was born with it, same as Paul.

Unlike him, Tim hunted humans. Whatever he could scrounge up downtown. Something about him being a vamp and a greaser must've instantly allied them.

When he turns to leave, he hears Tim talking to Ponyboy. He tells him that Johnny might die. He'd been hoping to avoid that conversation.

He waits, hovering near the door. Should Tim mention what he fears, he'll be ready.

Luckily, he doesn't.

Pony makes breakfast, and everyone else practically breaks in and takes over his tv. Steve eats cake for no good reason, and Two-Bit settles in with the rest of the cake and a beer to watch Mickey Mouse. The whole time, Pony's on his feet, but he ain't quiet right. He looks too pale. When he really tries, he can tell his heartbeat is faster than it should be.

He tells Pony he shouldn't go to the rumble. Pony points out that, in fact, they are severel men down and they need him.

"Maybe I oughta take the day off."

Pony outright refuses, and he's right. They can't afford him taking a day off right now.

He grabs his tool belt, hangs the pendent from his neck, and warns Ponyboy against smoking more than a pack that day. He has the audacity to shoot back that Darry best not carry more than 1 bundle of shingles at a time.

Kid'll smoke himself to death yet.

He prepares dinner for everyone, and Pony comes home late, of course. Darry does what he can to prepare: he worked out after work, made sure to high tale it out to the cattle yard to eat. He wears a tight shirt that shows off his muscles and stretches out. Of all the outfits showing up, he's probably the biggest guy, so he's sure he'll be asked to start things.

If Paul's there, he'll be fighting him.

Pony comes in late, after he's cooked dinner. He can still eat normal food just fine, though he can't pass it anymore so he'll have to throw up before the rumble. He gets a chance with the excuse to take out the trash. Then he changes out of his work clothes and finds a shirt that will show off his physique. He knows he's built well, but he tries not to be vain about it. Rumbles are about the only time he shows himself off. Its an advantage, and they need every advantage they can get in a rumble.

Before he's done, Ponyboy asks him why he likes to fight. Soda answers for him, saying its because he likes to show off his muscles. He follows the ebb and flow of the pre-rumble banter and tells Soda he'll "show them off on you, little buddy, if you get any mouthier". But he does wonder. Pony moves on to ask Two-Bit, and Darry wonders what he would've said if Soda hadn't interuptted. Maybe he'd have said it was a good way to blow off steam. Rumbles had always been that way for him, but especially now. When he couldn't show anyone what he was and he had to be so, so careful.

He still had to be careful in a rumble, but he could be a hell of a lot less careful.

They leave for the rumble in a holler, doing acrobatics he taught them several summers ago, before he was a monster. Two-Bit cracks a beer and Darry catches Pony watching with distain. He really doesn't like that he's there, but they do need everyman they can get. Even if he counts for two and Tim two more, there's not telling how many guys will show up, and if the soc's will have anyone like him and Tim on their side.

"Sodapop, Ponyboy, if the cops show, you two beat it out of here. We'll get jailed but you'll get the boys home."

"Ain't nobody gonna call the fuzz in this neighborhood!" Steve howls, and they sprint the rest of the way to the park.

The Brumbly Boys and Shepards downtown outfit await them, already asembled. Many drink, Darry notices, and Tim draws close to his brother, confirming it was infact him and Johnny who killed the Soc. When they filter out to await the Soc's, Darry shoots daggers from his icey eyes and whispers too quiet for anyone but him and Tim "Don't try anything". Tim shrugs and there's not more time. The soc's have arrived.

Paul leads them. Darry doesn't recognize anyone else from their high school days, and Tim glances over and nods. He doesn't see any other vampires. He knows more than Darry does, but he isn't sure which ones know them.

"Darrel."

"Paul". He crosses his arms. He will not let Paul see how perturbed he is.

"I'll take you".

Two Bit tells someone he and Paul used to pall around in high school. Play football. Look at what you don't know.

And it begins.

They circle each other for a minute, studying. Paul blacks his eyes for a split second. Darry will not grant him the satisfaction. No matter how compelled he feels. No matter how his brain screams at him to obey.

Paul smirks. Darry snaps. He goes low, just like football. The rumble's on. He's taller than Paul, stronger than Paul, more fit. But Paul's been around hundreds of years. He has a tactical advantage.

But has he fought in a rumble? Darry gets him on the ground and fights to keep him from wriggle away in the mud. The skies have let fourth their fury and he is not about to let Paul get away this quick. This easy.

He lands an awkward right hammer fist to Paul's arm. He puts all his strength into it. Paul yells. He's hurt him. His fist stings, it radiates up his arm. He tries to regrip Paul's jacket. Paul gets away, wriggling just out of reach and standing. Darry scrambles up and Paul sprints into him, throwing him ten feet. He slides through the mud another ten. There's a trough through the ground between him and Paul.

Paul cackles, throwing his back as if to catch and drink the rain. Darry clambers up. He hears Ponyboy squeal. One of the Soc's is on top of him.

"Pony!" He's there in three steps. He rips, really rips, the Soc off his kid brother. He tosses the boy aside and bends to lift Pony. But Paul plows into him and throws him into the merry go round. It smarts in his spine. He graps a bar to help him stand, and realizes the thing is dented around him.

Paul's eyes are black again, he's not sure he's hiding his anymore. "Get up Darrel! Come on! Fight me like a man!" Darry jumps up at that. To his chagrin, Paul's smirk breaks as he chuckles. "Oh. Wait!"

Darry charges at Paul, and he ducks. Darry's waist collides with his shoulders and Paul thrust himself upright, twisting Darry over his shoulder, onto his back. The wind is knocked out of him, which is an odd sensation considering he doesn't need to breath anymore.

Paul yelps and there's a wet squealch. He hears Tim growling. Darry's slow to sit up. Paul throws Tim over his body like a rag doll, and hurdles him to boot. That's when he finally gathers the gumption to stand.

Tims eyes are blacked. He grimaces as he tries to keep Paul's fists at bay. "Paul!"

He turns around. Tim rolls out of the way, mudding himself all the way up. Paul smirks. "Bring it on Milk Man!"

Darry doesn't get the joke until later. He compacts as much as he can when he charges at Paul. Paul scrunches like he had the last time Darry charged. This time, Darry's prepared. He uses Paul's left shoulder like a pummel horse and swings around behind him. As soon as he's mounted, he kicks out his leg, sweeping Paul's legs out from under. He collapses to the ground, and Darry sicks on him.

He punches. Right hook, left hook. A knee to the gut when he shimmies. Left, right, left hook. He thinks he broke Pauls nose, even if he's a vampire.

When Paul quits moving, he stands, and begins to kick him. The gut, groin, face, wherever his foot falls. It will never be enough. Nothing can be punishment enough for allow Paul to turn him into a monster. Maybe it would've been different if his parents were still alive. Probably not. He'd still hate himself, he's sure. Mud flies up with his kicks. He vaguely hears Tim Sheppard tell him to quit it.

"Like hell!" He snaps.

"Darry!" One kid brother shouts.

"Darry! Their runnin'!" His other one, his little buddy Sodapop shouts. Someone grabs his bicep. He whirls his around, throwing them into the mud. It's Soda.

"Darrel!" That'd be Dally. The only one brave enough to use his real name. "Quit it man! You're killin' him!"

"Am not!" He shouts. He rolls Paul with his foot. He starts in on his back.

Two-Bit latches onto his left arm. Soda grabs his right and Dally gets him in a choke hold. Ha! Little good that'll do! He steps back, trying to whirl them off.

They're screaming. Everyone's screaming and there's thunder and lightening. A thunderstorm. How fighting.

A bottle smashes against the back of his head despite the shouts of protest from his gang. It wouldn't draw blood anyway. Not much. He'll dig out shards later, but he'll never bleed. He feels Two-Bit slip off, and he tries to push off Soda - who is still screaming his head off and bawlin' like a goddamn baby - when Tim shouts for them to brace and suddenly he's on his side in the mud, on top of somebodies leg. Dally splatters every curse imaginable with the rain, but manages to wriggle his leg out.

He's rolled onto his back and Tim Sheppards knee set on his sternum. His eyes blacked, fists balled, he warns Darry not to try anything. "They're runnin' man! We won. Calm down ol' boy! You gotta getta holda yourself!"

He freezes. He sucks in a breath. He centers around that. He feels something lodged in his arm. Someone grabs his ankles. He jerks his head up and spots Steve. He looks like a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. He lulls his head to the right. Soda stares right back at him, his eyes pleading. Tears track down his cheeks. leaving trails in the mud on them.

Tim grabs his hair with one hand and yanks his head up. He acts as if to scalp Darry, and his eyes are blacked and iris' red as he pants, and pants.

"Got your big head back on those broad shoulders a yours, superdope?" Tim snarks.

But Darry is looking past him. Between Tim's leg and Dally's torso to his left. Two-Bit is standing there, caked in mud, suddenly sobered up. He clutches someone to his chest. A little boy, a month older than fourteen, with peroxide blonde hair and a sickley paleness to him.

Dear God. It's Ponyboy.

What has he done?

Soda's voice cracks as he begs "Darry. Darry? Please. You're scarrin' Ponyboy."

Ponyboy. Sodapop.

Dear God.

"Wha...?"

Tim cuts him off, pushing off Darry's sternum. "You worked 'im up real good, Curtis, that you did. Can't tell if you killed 'im or just gave him the worst lickin' of his life."

Dally rolls away, and Soda has disappeared as he watched Tim. Tim yanks him up by the colar, and points to the motionless Paul. "You did him up real good, Darrel. And there'll be hell to pay for that."

Darry swallow. "He... he can't be dead."

"He shouldn't be," Tim pushes him forward. Darry manages to catch himself and he turns while Tim continues. "But I know as much as you now..."

No. Paul had told him. They could only be killed by rare magic or a wooden stake to the heart. They could badly injury each other, but never kill.

"...I know is that you gotta disappear. Now! His folk's'll be after you by tomorra an' I ain't real keen to find out just how many vamps are in this city!"

"Vamps?" Steve has of course weasled his way out of the wood work just now. He looks to be holdin' Soda, but neither of his kid brothers will hold eye contact. There's a nice purpling to his upper arm. He wonders if he colored it.

"Darry, you gotta go. Now," Tim shoves him. He falls this time, unprepared. "Go on! Get! If they find you here, they'll kill you an' the rest of you that's left!"

Darry shoots up, getting right in Tim's face "And if I don't?"

"They ain't gonna kill ur brothers if they think they don' know," he whirls around at the gang "An' you don't know nothin', you got it?"

Nobody nods. They're all staring at Darry. And Tim. Staring at both of them.

Tim claps his shoulder "Get yourself a fresh change a' clothes, some cash, and split big man. I'll watch your littles 'till the heat dies down."

Suddenly, it all comes rushing in. Where are the Brumbly Boys? He hasn't seen them since before the rumble. Did he scare them off? Shit. Shit. Shit! Paul's parents are vampires, they'll find him in no time and he cannot let that happen. They cannot find his brothers.

What'll happen to his kid brothers?

"They'll be fine!" Tim shouts, catching where he's looking. "You gotta go now! He'll come to any minute!"

He shoves him once more time, and Darry lets the momentum take him. He runs. Runs past his house, towards the country. He's got his wallet on him so he'll have that. It's not like he needs normal food and he's impervious to all that nature's got to throw at him any how.

What has he become? He finally realizes this sometime around the Oklahoma/Kansas border. Has... has he...

He's become a monster.

There is no doubt about it.

This is gonna get a part two. I just need to finish the plan and write it. Happy finals week all. Thinking about making audio recordings of myself reading these to include with future projects, as well as past projects. What do we think? Maybe a bit where I reread my old stuff and go through and edit, but like, a video? Am I gonna be a YouTuber? Stay tuned!

[antedilfuvian]

spends 8 hours making a custom playlist thumbnail instead of fulfilling life obligations (epic style)

wip playlist for anyone interested

[avroravia]

Where did the boys take mythical!readers for their first dates?

eee! i actually already had these thought out for a while and i finally get to talk about it!

darry invited mermaid to a little lakeside picnic since he remembered how much she loves swimming (he's such a good boyfriend). he packed mermaid a brunch full of things he remembered seeing at her house when he was working on it. after they ate, they went swimming for a little bit, before they went on a short drive. when darry dropped mermaid off at her house, he gave her a bouquet of her favorite flowers which resulted in her pink lip gloss smeared on his face. <33

dallas took vampire on a date to a party at buck's, but they both quickly ditched and went to go smoke on the porch outside. after they talked and hung out for a while, dallas walked vampire back to her house. he definitely gave her his brown bomber jacket since 'she looked real cold,' and he made sure to slip his ring into the pocket as his offical way of asking vampire out (spoiler alert, dallas walked back to buck's with a huge red kiss on his neck).

johnny brought dryad to watch a movie at admiral, but the both of them got bored quickly. so, johnny took dryad on a little walk across east tulsa. the two of them smoked and talked for a while, before he walked her home. johnny gave her his blue-jeans jacket, and when she tried to give it back once she got home, he told dryad to 'bring it back next time we see each other,' before he walked back to the lot.

tim and ghost had a movie night together. tim forced angela and curly out, before stealing a bunch of curly's horror cassette tapes. the two of them got high while they watched, and ghost clung to tim's side around the scary parts. whenever the boring bits rolled around, ghost left kisses on him that lasted a little too long. when tim drove her home, it quickly led to a long make-out in his car.

[wrathbites]

#16 - trembling hands - Mass Effect related if you can ;)

Send me a number and I'll write a micro story using the word or phrase

"You won't hurt me."

Slamming into Rhys' barrier has always been akin to running headfirst into a krogan's fist, shoving against it like pitching one's full weight into the foot of a mountain and somehow expecting it to budge.

"I promise."

But that was before, when he was still human and shackled by the limitations of a fragile body, and this is after and he's not.

And there's no warning as he fetches up against that barrier, an echo of its crackle pulsing up his arms as he strains against it, not even a flicker. It's just an immovable mountain standing in his way — until suddenly it isn't.

It buckles, and he isn't fast enough on the recovery to pull back, and in the split second he spies Rhys through the shockwave hurtling his way... he's smiling, the picture of perfect calm.

And then he's gone, struck as though by the fist of a vengeful god and cast over the banister, a pebble skipped on Kaidan's power and he falls.

Kaidan forgets himself in that moment, forgets to limit himself, darts forward as only a vampire can, a flicker of motion that's still too slow and he jumps three storeys without so much as a creak in his knees.

A splash marks Rhys' abrupt introduction to the Presidium lake, a sharp whine the placement of Kaidan's trembling hands atop the wall meant to prevent this very scenario. He leans forward, eyes scanning back and forth whereishewhereishewhathaveIdone —

Rhys surfaces with a laugh, sweeping sodden hair back from his face and Kaidan very nearly joins him, boneless in sharp relief, slides down to his knees instead and presses his forehead to the wall and breathes.

"Told you you were the stronger biotic, Kaidan!" Rhys calls.

"You asshole," he snipes back, quiet and with feeling, but no bite, never any bite, and if Rhys just laughs harder, well. His sense of humour's always been shit.

[natalyelle]

ArtFight attack on @hawkepockets with Kite Shepard

[ebbpettier]

honestly, all of this talk about shepard being a cryptid to cryptids sounds like a great idea for a group cosplay. THE SHEPARD LOVE FANCLUB: everyone has little t-shirts and buttons and pennants, and also nobody is human.

[weirdlookindog]

La noche de Walpurgis (1971)

Patty Shepard as Countess Wandesa Dárvula de Nadasdy

[alyssalenko]

WIP Whenever

I was tagged by my dear @minilev (x2) for this one! Thanks <3 I've been trying to finish this Werewolf/vampire smut for like three years, and my brain just keeps wanting more smut added lol.

But she apparently had other plans as she broke the kiss and slid down his body to her knees, fingertips hooking into the waistband of his pants. It was like she could read his mind and he wondered briefly if telepathy was one of her vampiric powers, but as soon as glanced down and met her eyes, every thought left his head. She had her head cocked to one side watching him innocently, a question in her eyes and her face very close to where his erection was straining against his fly, practically begging for her attention. He nodded, growling as she winked at him, popping the button on his jeans and dragging the zipper down with agonizing slowness, his dick giving an eager throb as she bared him to her gaze. Alyss licked her lips as she took in the sight of him, shoving her hands into his jeans and cupping his ass before pushing the unyielding fabric off his hips and down his thighs, nails gently raking over his muscles. She leaned forward, trailing the tip of her tongue along the underside of his shaft, where it curved up towards his stomach and pressed a teasing kiss at the base of his crown. One hand gripped his shaft as the other cupped him gently, making him groan, hips bucking towards her, arousal streaking through him. She gave him an affectionate squeeze as her tongue glided along his shaft from base to crown and circled around the head of his cock. Red lips opened to take the tip into her mouth, sucking hard and making his hips jerk as she sucked him off. Kaidan groaned in surprise, suddenly feeling the bones in his hand cracking and elongating, claws threading through her black hair--apparently his wolf was as eager to touch her as he was. He hadn't lost control of the beast outside the full moons since he was a teenager--born werewolves able to control the transformations and change at will until the hormones puberty brought, made the blood run hot–but apparently she brought it out in him. And he kind of liked it.

Tagging you right back @minilev darling as well as @pikapeppa @schoute @sinsbymanka @shretl @swaps55 @charlatron @amarmeme @slothssassin @starsandskies @a-shakespearean-in-paris @liaorban-art @randomlygeneratedstring @illusivesoul @forlornmelody @briarfox13 @slaytanic @vorchagirl @samfishers @badwolf626 @dieselfusion @heroofshield @kittynomsdeplume @thefathersbride @redreart @wickedwitchofthewilds @elleweird @commander-krios @hazelestelle @ashalle-art @knuttydraws @kauriart @pathfinderlittleduck @spacebunshep @cr-noble-writes and anyone who sees this and wants to play! I wanna see what everyone is working on!

[cr-noble-writes]

WIP Whenever

@stormikins and @swaps55 tagged me for this like a week ago or so, and I am just now getting to it.

tagging @otemporanerys @mallaidhsomo @nickelkeep @bleuzombie and @imbiowaresbitch if you're so inclined

I was originally planning on writing this for a spec reqs treat this year, but I am quite confident I am not going to finish it any time soon, so I've decided to just write it on my own time and gift it to the person I'm writing it for separately.

Anyway, cowboy vampires in space

“It was Vido,” Zaeed says as he starts carefully inspecting his ablative plates. Shepard’s hand stills over his chest plate, and he looks at Zaeed, thick eyebrows drawn in confusion. “What?” “You asked how I fucked up my face. It was Vido.” He keeps his eyes on the heavy plating in front of him, fingers running over the surface in search of even the smallest crack or imperfection. It’s still early enough to fabricate a new piece if he needs to. “Had six of my men hold me down while he held a gun to my head, and he still didn’t manage to finish the job properly.” “That’s rough,” Shepard says, slipping his arms into the sleeves of his under armor. There’s another colorful tattoo on his chest, part of it visible just above the neckline of his A-shirt, but Zaeed can’t tell what it is. “At least you survived.” “Yeah.” He’d been damn lucky some young asari doctor had found him bleeding out in a dark Omega back alley. Zaeed glances up and gestures toward the long scar on Shepard’s face. “What about yours?” Shepard zips his under armor and turns away. His voice is soft and far away when he says, “Mindoir.” There’s not a human in the galaxy that isn’t familiar with the batarian raid on the farming colony of Mindoir. Brutal shit. The kind of thing that gives you nightmares even if you hadn’t had to live through it. The kind of thing that can break a man. Clearly hadn’t broken Shepard, though. “That where you got fanged?” “No,” he says with a quiet laugh edged by bitterness. “That was Torfan. Did you know batarian slavers collar their vampires and use them as front line cannon fodder?” Zaeed shakes his head and pulls on his under armor. “Yeah, we didn’t either.” Zaeed remembers seeing the news feeds after Torfan. Another bit of nasty business. Almost an entire company of Alliance Marines had died wiping out the batarians there. Some young lieutenant listed among the casualties had gotten smeared pretty good by the media. Zaeed grunts and raises an eyebrow. “You’re the Butcher of Torfan?” “That’s what the ANN says.” Shepard doesn’t elaborate, and Zaeed doesn’t ask. None of his business, really. Even if he is curious. Even if he prefers having every goddamn bit of information he can get his hands on. Even if ‘Butcher’ doesn’t quite add up to what he’s seen from Shepard. “Least you survived.” “Not sure this counts,” Shepard says with a snort. Zaeed shrugs, and moves to help Shepard with his armor. “Anything this side of the dirt counts, Shepard.”