#Vampires holiday core

[kentnaturaltribrid]

Mitzi is ontop of the eggselent basket for Vostara among other things happening the same week, such as Varn/Valorè, beyond that there’s well that’s not the main thing going on for the week, but at least there’s two holidays instead of one and the eggses are there decorated for both seasonal events, with the fronts being flowers and all that fun stuff.

“You’re only here for a short visit . Don’t hurry. Don’t worry. And be sure to smell the flowers along the way.”

It may take at least a few more days to get the insides ready for the holidays, but working on it. May have to look around at a few things.

[callmeonmyrazr]

nina dobrev behind the scenes of filming the vampire diaries season 6 christmas episode “christmas through your eyes” 🎄🤍

[rrbobani]

Happy Holidays everyone~!

 I hope everyone has been getting ready for the holidays, or have been enjoying them thoroughly! I wanted to draw something with the Prismatica girls to celebrate, drawing different outfits with them as they enjoy their own gathering!

 Vampunya was in charge of getting cookies baked for the season, plating some for Santa alongside a glass of milk. Ursali insisted she get the decorations set for the gathering, absolutely adoring all the starry ornaments and lights she got to choose and arrange. And Florienna was in charge of getting everything wrapped and being extra help where she could be! Her Cattamole helped as well, making sure everyone was happy during the celebration.

 I know this season can be rough for some people as well, I get pretty down during these times too - thanks seasonal depression. But I just want everyone to know that as we approach the end of the year, and this is also aimed at comforting myself too, to not be afraid of what's to come. The world may be falling a part around us, but it's certainly not the end of it. There are people out there that are still fighting for you, even if you don't know them. There are still people out there that care about your voice. The years before have been such a wake up call. It's up to us to turn things around, and you're certainly not alone in doing so.

 We're all in this together. You matter to this world. Be kind to yourself. ♡

 I hope you, I hope everyone has a comforting end of the year. And thank you for sticking around~

---

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[evvieseunoia]

Reiji Sakamaki Childhood HCS

I think because vampires age differently, Shuu would have been physically around 5 or 6 years old when Reiji was born.

Reiji was born on an uncharacteristically cold, August morning.

Shuu was ecstatic when his mother told him he would be a big brother. He helped to paint the nursery room for Reiji’s arrival, wrote in his journal about his excitement, and cried for hours when he couldn’t be in the delivery room.

Reiji, against popular belief, was the worst crier between the two- already grieving the neglect of the years to come.

Shuu was the only one who could stop Reiji from crying. Beatrix could always find Shu laying on the floor, building wooden castles for his baby brother.

Reiji’s bitterness began when he once asked Beatrix if he could take lessons with Shuu, to which she responded with a very firm, “No.”

At meals, he sat across the table from his mother, with Shuu at the head. His portions were significantly smaller.

His favorite subject to study as a preteen was ancient literature. He imagined himself as the hero in every story. Traveling far, far away from home, being celebrated by thousands, being king...

As he grew up, he cringed at the realization that he would never be the main character in the story, and he began to favor alchemy.

Along with core subjects, he and Shuu practiced fencing. Reiji trained until his hands call0used and his knuckles bled, but he could never best his brother.

When Reiji learned of the human holiday of Mother’s Day, he went all out in an attempt to win Beatrix’s favor. He took over cooking and cleaning for their household for the day and served all of Beatrix’s favorite dishes. He annotated a special edition copy of her favorite book. All to no avail as she said he should focus on performing these duties in the future, as Shuu’s right-hand man.

The first time Reiji notices Shuu and Edgar, he watches from far away. After dinner that night, Reiji asks Shuu if he may join them the following morning. With Shuu’s no, Reiji’s heart truly begins to blacken towards humanity.

In the days leading up to his arson, Reiji makes several attempts to reconnect with Shuu.

He covers for Shuu when his mother asks his whereabouts, has their tailor repair a tear in Shuu’s blue sweater, uses his pocket money to buy him new rosin.

When he tells Shuu of all he’s done for him, Reiji can only see his mother’s reflection in his older brother’s eyes. Shuu hardly gives him a second glance, before leaving to play with his newfound village friend.

How could his brother, his blood-bound friend, abandon him for a human?

How could a mother, when written about in stories as women with fountains of unconditional love, show such disdain for him?

Shuu comes home one late September night complaining of a disagreement he and Edgar had had over their shared snack of apples earlier that day. Reiji, living vicariously through Shu, and with no friends of his own, clung to his brother’s every word. If Edgar had upset him enough, would Shuu come back to be Reiji’s friend again?

In a final attempt to win both the affection of his mother and the friendship of his brother, Reiji burns Edgar and his village to the ground.

I would love some feedback on these!! Feel free to send asks if you want to see any more.

[madarasgirl]

A Night for Hunting Ch. 14 -Interlude II

T/W: 18+, NSFW, Alucard (Ultimate) x F!Reader, explicit sexual content, masturbation, size kink, corruption kink, mild blood drinking, throat/thigh fuck, dastardly vampire bullying his Reader in a good way, angst. Hi the ovaries woke up for this Ch. On AO3 Words: 4480

Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays to those who celebrate something else! I hope this December finds everyone in the company of those you love most. Another year is just around the corner!

Wow! 500 kudos and many, many notes for this fic. Thank you to all my readers for your ongoing support! And if vampire smut isn't for you, I hope you will enjoy the next chapter in the New Year!

The lights were dim in your bedroom, the quiet hum of the furnace coming on and your muted, laboured breaths the only sounds breaking the tranquility. It felt like you were on fire. The skin on your back was slick with sweat as you held your breath in concentration.

Pleasure shot up your spine. You sighed blissfully, sinking further into the bountiful pillows by the headboard so the fluffy surface eased some of the muscle ache from your neck as you plunged a small toy into your core repeatedly. In and out at a snail’s pace, to savour the sensation of the rounded ridges catching on your gummy walls.

A droplet of sweat beaded at your temple. Your clit tingled from your treatment as you pushed in the smooth dildo again slowly, relishing in the mild stretch from the thickest segment as it passed through your entrance. It was all you could handle.

So stiff! This felt too good. After being with Alucard's mouth a handful of times, occasionally the need gripped you. Damn that vampire for introducing you to his decadence. You bucked your hips up to meet the imitation shaft, lost in the fullness of your self-gratification.

You rotated the silicone clockwise, squirming from the newfound friction the motion introduced as you juiced around it. Your new toy was quite simple by modern standards, but it was wonderful. The pink device was silky smooth and retained your body heat, not unlike when you were with Alucard, whose frigid body warmed the longer he was within you. 

Your eyes opened to slits, fixating blindly on the ceiling as your thoughts wandered back to what you knew of a man’s touch. His fingers tracing meaningless patterns on your skin until you went mindless as the girth of his talented tongue entered– 

Oh, ALUCARD'S TONGUE. You picked up the thrusting and writhed as you sank your toy deep with a silent moan and turned on the vibrating feature, mind clouded with desire for your absent lover. It had been over a month. Where was he? Gasping, you clumsily flipped onto all fours as you continued to fuck yourself silly on plastic.

Close. The climax you seeked was right there. You pushed the buzzing dildo back in place with shaky fingertips and smushed your clit desperately with the other hand, your face buried in the pillows with your ass in the air like a common whore for your unbidden fantasies.

Something was amiss. Your own efforts could only be described as bland. Maybe what your worked up bundle required for release was a more delicate touch. Your hips swayed when you brushed your pearl again with a frustrated whine. 

“It appears I was dearly missed.”

“AHHH!” You screamed with the horror of a teenager caught masturbating by your mother as you crashed sideways into the mattress, fumbling over your loose limbs to dive into the sheets and hide yourself. 

The smuggest vampire stood by the window.

“Wha- what are you doing here?” You stared bug-eyed at him as you clutched the blanket, thoroughly conscious about your nakedness when you were not in absolute darkness. Not that the lack of light influenced a vampire’s vision. And not like he had never seen you bare.

“Oh? Clearly I came to visit my human. Don’t let me interrupt your activities, Sweet ♪,” he tilted his chin up and cackled. The beast stalked closer, an amorous gleam to his gaze as twin fangs flashed with amusement.

“Y-you should at least knock! I was busy!” You hollered. Still he approached and you scrambled back incrementally until your back hit the board. 

“You were occupied, yes, but you could be heard and scented from outside. Should I deprive myself of the show?” He lowered himself onto the end of the bed. “It was rather ravishing.”

“Cretin! Idiot!” Heat lanced through your body from embarrassment as you hurled insults. Freaking vampiric super senses!

The shit-eating grin stretched wider as crimson glittered with mischief. The hat disappeared, followed by the jacket. He stood and the cravat melted away in an instant. At full height, he towered over your bed, his overbearing presence swamping the modest room. It was impossible to look away. In this lean and handsome form, Alucard was still a giant. Another layer –the suit vest– vanished from broad shoulders as the said vampire dismissed it. 

“Stop stripping!” You squeaked.

Gah! A lithe porcelain torso with enticing rippling muscles appeared on display for your visual pleasure. The exhibitionist would coerce you into looking at him while he did unspeakable things to you. You flung the dildo at his face.

It landed in the centre of his palm with a wet slap. “A gift for me? Very well, I accept.” He dangled the fake dick from two fingers. It was tiny in comparison to the proportions of Alucard’s hand. You gulped as your gaze went to his mouth.

Time froze. His tongue rolled out from between glistening teeth, as long and flexible as you dreamed. You held your breath and watched in a trance as Alucard lapped at the pink rubber with languid swipes, curling his muscle around its circumference to collect your creamy nectar coating. His eyes never left yours.

He purred.

“You remain as delicious as ever.”

You ignored him. Your dilated pupils tracked your cream at the tip of his tongue as it retracted back into his mouth before it flicked around in a semi-circle to wet his lips. His tongue was thicker than your toy. Your pussy tingled –it appears she missed him. You cursed your traitorous body.

The toy dropped beside you with a plunk.

"What is it you desire from me?” You could hear the smile behind the words. It was an apt reminder that he was an evil entity. You didn’t care what the history books said about him being Christian, he must have worshipped Satan.

Alucard chuckled. You stiffened when even that sound shot to your loins. Did he know what his voice did to you? That sonorous baritone woke something primal. It was too unfair. Everything about your unholy lover turned you into a harlot. Was it really so long since you last coupled with him?

You’d rather have been caught by your mom. Nothing could compare to the level of mortification elicited by being discovered by Alucard. You fidgeted and looked at your feet bundled within the sheets.

You recalled his lips on yours, claiming you as his. His fingers were inside you… scissoring… Pressing your legs together, your lips quivered knowing your mind projected your longings. Your starving cunt dribbled with lust.

“Use your words, Sweet. There is no use for pride when it comes to our indulgent hedonism.” 

Your head snapped up, face scrunched with the need to protest his accusation.

“Neither is there shame in pleasure.”

You recoiled.

Descend with me.

The mocking was absent when you examined your vampire while taking shallow breaths. Why were you so hesitant? What were you holding back for? You’ve experienced the pleasures of the flesh together numerous times. Why did you keep resisting him for anything other than misplaced pride or the engrained idea that the carnal is shameful?

He was right. 

The mental blocks yielded, moved by his gentle lulling. The feeling of emptiness grew too great. With a quiet mewl, you grasped your forgotten toy and returned it to your hungry hole, again plundering yourself before your lover’s eyes. Alucard sighed with contentment at the sight. He was, as always, ever the attentive audience as he studiously observed your performance.

!!! Right there. Leaning back and propping yourself up on an elbow, you adjusted your angle to strike that sweet spot with each impalement. You wondered if he heard the slimy slurps of your greedy cunt. Probably. It was a sloppy mess down there.

“There is a rage swelling between my legs,” your undead lover murmured.

Faster. You raced to the finish line with haste. Quicker and quicker you charged ahead, your thighs tense and hands a blur of movement as your pleasure peaked. In the distance, you heard a faint, rumbling growl whilst consumed by your bodily appetites. It shook your core and you tumbled over the summit with stuttering hips and the sharp cry of orgasm.

Alucard was on top of you. His lips were on yours, his enormous hands covering every inch of you, the cooling touch providing some welcome relief from the heat of passion. Your skin remained inflamed with arousal, each caress sent sparks flying through your nerves. The body now only moved by instinct through the fog. You returned his kisses with equal fervour and grabbed him by his hips and across his back, desperately clutching your anchor to reality wherever you could find purchase.

He drew soft gasps from your lips as he nibbled your shoulder playfully and you flexed around the toy, groaning at the presence of the solid invader holding your pliant walls apart. Tentatively, you leaned in and kissed down his jaw, stopping at his throat. You peppered him with pecks and nuzzled the alabaster column before swiping up his throat. Sheltered under his larger body, you were lost to the throes of orgasm, his skin and scent now so familiar that your heart hurt. You forgot yourself. With no warning, you nipped him.

The undulating shadow limbs paused, the darkness they casted a monstrosity upon your bedroom walls. Finally, your vampire hissed dangerously and you briefly wondered if you offended him. Fortunately, your worries were short-lived.

The last of his clothing disintegrated and his cock sprang forth to catch your full attention. You stopped to inspect him, every inch of his ivory glory. With lidded eyes and gently rocking hips, you crawled up to that proud shaft and palmed it, rolling its heft between your hands and sniffing him.

He was an aphrodisiac. You moaned with want and peered up at him with your lips parted. The vampire’s midnight locks came alive midair, hellfire blazing as he watched you carefully. That gaze stirred at your softest, most repressed emotions regarding this breathtaking fiend and you keened with the desire to please him. You flicked your tongue across his glans and then took him in to nurse, just the tip.

He was salty. You weren’t sure what you expected a vampire’s penis to taste like, but Alucard was decidedly pleasing. Licking at his opening again for another sample, you realized you were in trouble –he might be addictive. You whimpered and tried to sink deeper into the fair shaft until he touched the back, the forced gargle barely clearing your mental haze as you drowned in the musk of male arousal.

You went down once more and gagged. You pulled back and tried again, spit filling your mouth and overflowing as tears came to your eyes after only a mere inch of progress was made. Again, but you were unable to stop the reflexive need to wretch despite how much you wanted to do this for Alucard.

Wrapping your lips around his side, you suckled downwards and gave him lollipop licks, alternating the force of suction as you went before periodically heading back to the top to take his head. You thought back to what Alucard did for you whenever he drank your pussy chalice and mimicked massaging the vampire’s thighs as you enthusiastically performed clumsy fellatio, but remained unable to swallow him whole.

His member was both too thick and too long, making you whine with dejection. How you wanted to return the favour so badly, to do something right and give him release. An ancient vampire who lived for centuries must have had amazing lovers in the past. Your chest clenched. The feeling of inadequacy permeated your thoughts and you were ashamed of your inexperience. Hanging your head, you stared at his crotch and pondered what to do next through pursed lips.

"Darling, there is ample time for you to learn."

Alucard was often an insistent lover who demanded his chamber partners to reveal all: every insecurity and imperfection. He wanted them to give him everything. Everything that was you also belonged to him, including your insecurities regarding your appearance and lack of experience. You were flawless. And he was looking forward to showing you this.

Bare hands wrapped your fingers around his shaft, placing your thumb to his frenulum and guiding you to stroke. Your hand was so tiny in his. The No-Life King groaned at the size difference. Yes, he will teach you the ways to satisfy these rapacious hungers. 

Like this.

That silken flesh glided beneath your fingertips, revealing the shiny head with each pass. The pressure increased fractionally around your hand, an unspoken instruction to squeeze harder at the base. The purring gave you encouragement and his actions touched you. Even now, Alucard took your comfort into consideration. How many others could say the same?

You caught his lips and plunged hard into his maw, pushing his tongue aside with your own and wrestling with it. Unwarranted courage made you dumb and you thrilled from the excitement of dominating the kiss. Tugging his cock with amateur zeal, you continued to swirl and shove at that delightful oral muscle before brushing boldly around pointed canines. 

Alucard ripped himself away, his mouth lined with rows of razor sharp dentition, eyes burning with untold rapture as you separated. Your female perfume saturated his sinuses. The loss of your sensibilities fed his need to corrupt you with his depravity. His gums ached with the need to drink, unknowingly biting himself while he witnessed you fall apart. He was leaking like a schoolboy, his balls tight with the urge to unload.

You succumbed to the devil's seduction. You were his, even if it took you until now to admit it. And he wanted you. Your legs trembled at the first revelation as you parted them to display your openings for his inspection. For his use. The dildo –wholly inferior compared to the vampire’s elegance– fell out coated thickly in cum, your gaping hole winking in anticipation. 

Yes, yes, yes. It was finally happening.

Ruby irises settled upon your lascivious presentation with a feral leer. The craving within them made you shudder in suspense. He promised many things back then, including taking you to Nirvana.

His shaft smacked your vulva and he slid between the lips of your drooling slit, dragging it down lengthwise. Once again he marvelled at your wondrous heat as you whimpered when he passed over your clit. The vampire sighed and stayed flush against your slit as he pushed your legs together to hump your thighs with zest. Wandering fingers found their way inside.

The teasing stimulation was both too much yet not enough. You wanted his cock, though on reflection, he was actually way too large and you'd rip. You didn't care as you locked your ankles over his shoulders to pull him in further and rocked against him. Your basest urges screamed for more and you moaned for him like a wanton whore while drizzling honey around the intruding fingers.

He grinned with utmost satisfaction. "That's it, Dear. How flattering to have a lovely little human offer herself to me so earnestly."

"Do you want this?" He asked.

"Please!" You spread as wide as you could to show yourself off again, but he pulled you onto your front. His heavy white pillar bobbed at your face, dripping with fluid. A hand threaded through your locks and held your head to his crotch, lightly pushing you onto him. 

You took him immediately without hesitation, fervidly filling your mouth with the heady flavours of sex. Delectable. Eagerness did not equate to skill, and you sputtered with a string of spit and coughing. Your eyes flickered to his with uncertainty and the unspoken plea for him to help guide you, hoping he felt your sincerity about pleasing him. You truly wanted to become adept at this.

Fingers rubbed your scalp for several moments before he drew back and drove his hips forward, precisely up to the point where you began to gag. He began to copulate with your throat, until you gagged repeatedly and slobbered over yourself. You heaved with discomfort, but though your eyes watered and your jaws locked, you did not attempt to escape his grasp beyond tightening with tension. You gave your trust in his touch and his experience even as you choked on him.

If you were finally honest with yourself, you’ve wanted Alucard to fuck you for years, perhaps even soon after you first met, only you were too overcome with fear of him then. 

He hit the back again, but didn't force himself further than the few inches that were already embedded. You tried to relax your throat and go loose. It became apparent you didn’t actually want control, but to let go and have Alucard lead. Let him have his way with you. Hopefully, he will sate himself as he did for you. 

The melody of gurgling and choking filled the room. All you could see was him. All you knew were his taste and his behemoth presence stretching your mouth.

Alucard withdrew and offered a chance to breathe, leaving you bowed over in a hacking fit as you greedily drank in the air. You inwardly thanked him for the lenience and sniffed, wiping away the spit before steeling yourself to try again. Sucking him wasn’t as distressing when you weren’t involuntarily fighting the intrusion.

He was enjoying himself as he maintained the smooth, steady thrusting. Blinded by tears, you worried about your unflattering gargles, but stayed put despite the cramping. Who knew keeping your mouth open was so tiring? You supposed that was why blowing was called a “job.” You swiped the bottom of his dick with the flat of your tongue.

Through bleary eyes, you saw impassioned red observing you intently. You returned the stare with docility as he continued to tickle your throat, putting your hand around the part of him that didn't fit into your mouth. You caressed his flesh as he demonstrated as he pleasured himself with your body.

His grip was steel, until he yanked himself out with a soupy slurp and leered at the sight of his fluids and drool sliding down your chin as you coughed and tried to catch your breath with a dazed expression. 

“Beautiful.” He exhaled. 

The hand tangled in your hair tugged to let you look the King in his eyes. "Do you want this?" He repeated.

Was that still a question? Spittle oozed down your jaws and pooled in your lap. Through lidded eyes, you whispered, "Yes, I can take it Alu. Put it in. Need you." The simple word couldn't describe how you NEEDED to be one with your vampire. If he wasn't holding your head, you would have turned over to present yourself again, to persuade your lover to finish what he started.

He growled upon brushing minds with yours, fully aware of your repressed libido come undone and he nearly went rabid with the urge to bury himself and seed you well. How you tempt him into the irreversible. "How improper for a lady such as yourself to beg for a monster's cock," he commented through jagged teeth. "Naughty girl."

You moaned at his words and wiggled free to spread yourself further and prove his assessment correct, if it would facilitate him in providing what you desired.

…

Alucard’s covetous gaze roamed your splayed body as agitated shadows whipped about. Strangely, the thought of making love to you remained tantalizing, but he didn't want to anymore. No, that wasn't it. More than anything, he wanted to have you. He wished to defile you in every way possible for a week straight, but he knew with increasing clarity that he wouldn't if it meant you might die for real. 

He was a selfish, Godless monster. He needed the option to turn you should anything happen to you, or if you decided to fall with him. All he wanted…was to be with you for as long as possible. He rumbled from the internal conflict as he brushed a palm down your calves and licked them.

He looked at you again and noted your complete ease and openness with him, a stark contrast from the paralyzing fear of when you first met. He preferred your bliss. You were lovely, warm, and willing. It would be so easy to take you. You were his. His to fuck, his to devour, and you were an absolutely scrumptious morsel. But at the thought of an existence without you, the void in his chest that did not beat ached.

Nothing was happening. Your eyes fluttered open before alarm seized you. There was blood trailing down his eyes! Gasping, your hands shot out to hold him, your heart throbbing at your vampire's expression – he was a broken man. 

Before you could ask if he was okay, he fell over your body to cage you with his arms, his bangs tickling your forehead. "You are a mere human. What have you done to me?" The powerful vampire whimpered, his face furrowed with emotion.

No, the instant gratification was not worth losing you. He got off of you.

”Wait! Don't go!” You scrambled up and reached for his wrist.

–Only to be spun around and sat in his lap with his overly long, gangly arms twined around your waist and neck unnaturally like rope to press the back of your head to his shoulder. He wouldn’t let you see him. 

His steely length wedged between your butt cheeks. You sat facing away from Alucard, disoriented from the sudden shift in mood, quietly panting as you waited for him to do something. He hooked his arms around your knees to cradle you while fingers meandered their way to your open pussy. Vaguely, you were aware of ferrous fluid flowing down the side of your head and neck. 

“Is this about my virginity?” You ventured, parting your legs further to grant him better access. “To turn me?” You had an inkling of an idea of why Alucard refused to take you.

Dexterous digits explored every ridge and valley inside your sheath and you melted into him. The pleasure was such that you regretted holding back for so long because you thought sleeping with the vampire was wrong. Being with him like this was meant to be, and it felt so right. 

His prodding and caresses were expert, yet though you suspected you knew why Alucard dallied with your inevitable penetration, you kept begging to be plumbed. You moaned and wriggled in his lap to try mounting him properly, earning a low, warning growl. 

“Behave.” 

Shadow hands materialized to grab your wrists and ankles, holding you down snugly on top of him with your back to his chest. He dominated the interaction from below. 

“I alone shall have you in this manner. No one else,” he declared. 

As if anyone else would ever compare. It wasn't like Alucard forever ruined your standards of what to expect from men. “I don't want anyone else, Alucard. Only you,” you clarified. “Alucard…” 

Your hips rocked in an uncoordinated ride of his fingers while he held you captive. No matter how you squirmed, you were unable to impale yourself on your vampire's rod. You whined piteously with need. This wasn’t exactly what you desired, but it was as close as he’d allow without fucking for real. 

The fingers scissored to stretch the ring of muscle before plummeting to the knuckles and continuing to dance. You wailed from the welcome assault. As you twitched, a consideration came to mind and you pouted. "Can't you simply make yourself smaller? When I lick you, I mean."

The wicked vampire cackled and drew you closer to himself. "Fragile little human, you have no understanding of how I must already restrain myself to be with you in this capacity."

“Then let go,” you told him, the phantom limbs thwarting your attempt to turn and look at him. You wanted to reason with him. It was his inhuman size that was an issue. If he was smaller, giving him head should be at least manageable, even if he became more animated.

He chuckled, "Tempting." A sharp talon traced down your throat as you held still with your head tilted up at the lights. "But you would not survive my passion." His tongue replaced the claw and lapped slowly down the same path before nibbling on your throat, causing your skin to pimple into gooseflesh. You tensed, your pussy pulsing with climax nearing as you felt the tingling of every individual hair on your arms with heightened clarity.

“Oh, you do not wish to be bitten, yet you want me to drink from you? Bad girl." You were a sack of boneless limbs, nearly incapacitated by your lover’s devilish ministrations as he read your deepest desires and voiced them. 

Your nails dug into his legs, you stopped breathing as your vision went white, blinded by the dazzling luminescence of the light fixtures above. The tip of a claw pressed against your throat and you winced at the briefest of sharp pains when he opened a tiny wound in the side of your neck. You hissed and tightened around his digits.

The vampire king was on your throat in an instant, lapping up the few droplets that oozed to the surface, moaning as he fed. Pain morphed into pleasure and you arched against him, nearly delirious from the staggering cocktail.

He snickered between licks. "If only I knew you were this partial to pleasure from the beginning.”

Alucard simulated intercourse. He pistoned against your rump with his fingers buried to the hilt inside your snatch. You spasmed from the relentless, ravenous assault as you moved as one.

At last you strained, shuddering around his digits as he sprayed your back and crack. His semen was indeed cool.

Sure enough, his face was now clean of his tears. Neither was there evidence of any blood on your back. It was as if Alucard never broke down. You reached back to stroke his hair, twisting around as much as possible to gently kiss his temple as he rocked up and down to fuck his essence back between your mounds.

You crumbled into his chest to rest. “How am I still a virgin after everything we do?" You questioned with a mouth full of cotton.

"You are a virgin according to vampire laws." He pecked your cheek.

You muttered, "I told you your vampire rules are stupid." He threw his head back, laughing raucously at your willful comment and pulled you tighter to himself. His teeth had retracted back behind his lip and he pressed his face to yours with a tender smile. "I adore you, sweet human."

~To be Continued~

Next Chapter: A New Home

[1800kfics]

8:09pm

beomgyu x reader

warnings: smut (minors dni please), oral (head m!receiving), minor exhibitionism

wc: ~950

an: not proofread I’m sorry 😭

UPDATE: apparently the song got taken off of spotify T_T but i still rec listening to it on yt!!

“try not to make a sound, this my mama house”

Your boyfriend sat next to you on his childhood bed, hand in the air clicking through channels on the tv in front of the two of you aimlessly.

"There's nothing good on. Nothing good to do in this house." Beomgyu said dully.

"I'm sure there's something fun we can find to do around here." You reply.

"I'm not sure about that. Any weed I have hidden in my drawers is long dried up. My mom is right down the hall anyways, there's not much fun to be had." He says, followed by a deep sigh.

The pair of you were visiting his hometown for the holidays. His mother liked to turn in early - albeit unusually early, so the two of you were left to your own devices for the rest of the night.

You look over to the digital clock on the nightstand next to you. It read 8:09pm.

When you turned your head back, he was already looking at you.

"What?" You ask.

He shoots you one of his signature smirks. "If I had a pretty girl like you in my bed when I was a teenager I'd probably be hard right now."

You slapped his shoulder and he started chuckling. "God Beomgyu! Is that all you think about?" You say, jokingly disgusted. His brazenness gets you every time.

"What, I'm not kidding! It's even hard for me not to get turned on right now..." He says in defense. You don't fail to notice how he shifts slightly in his pants.

You continue to play into it. "God, my boyfriend is a pervert that wants to get with a girl in his childhood bed to fulfill his teenage dreams." You say, waiting for his laugh to come.

It didn’t.

"Would you?" He asks at a voice you had to strain to hear.

You whip your head over at him. The circumstances aren't the best, but denying Beomgyu was an even harder task. One glance downwards and you could see him already pitching a tent in his sweatpants. You flick your eyes back up and he's looking at you hopefully.

You answer by moving to sit on his lap. You could feel his length perfectly, though it was separated from your core with your clothing. Once you're centered on him, he wastes no time pressing his lips onto yours, holding the back your head and pushing you impossibly closer to him.

Lips clashing together, you run your fingers through his hair, then make your way down to his neck. You trace it down all the way to the curve of his collarbone.

You feel him grin into your mouth, then he pulls away.

"Baby... I really need you. Any part of you." He says breathily.

You remember where you are in that moment, and worry about the creakiness of the bed. You decide to slip down and rest in between his now spread legs.

He lifts himself and pulls his boxers & sweatpants down far enough for his length to spring up and slap against his stomach. It reached his mid-thigh, and was thick. No matter how many times you've taken him in your mouth, it's always been a struggle.

You see glistening beads of precum on the tip and spread it down his length, pumping lazily. He puts his arm behind his head and he props himself up against the pillows.

You lick from the base to the tip, peppering it with kisses when you get there. He gently gathers your hair in a make-shift ponytail above your head.

Finally, you start taking his length in, and he guides your head down slowly. When you take all you can fit, you still for a moment. Taking in half of him is a feat.

You bob your head up and down on his cock, taking in as much as you can each time. You use your hand for whatever you can't reach.

After a few minutes, he's grown even harder in your mouth. "Do you think you can take some more?" He asks shakily.

You hum in approval around his length, the vibration making him grip the sheets lightly. He uses a hand to guide your head down further than your own head would let you go.

You deepthroat him, nose tickling his trimmed pubic hair. You pull up, go down, still, and repeat.

Tears are brimming in your eyes as you fight for air. You can tell Beomgyu is close, because his soft grip on your hair has become tight, and he has taken to fucking your mouth.

Your throat rejected one particular thrust and you gagged around his cock.

"Shhh baby, try not to make a sound, this my mama's house." He says in a strained whisper.

You try your best to continue to let him use your throat, even though the tears have well escaped your eyes and run down your cheeks.

"I'm... I'm gonna c-cum... Take it?" He says in whiny intervals.

You once again hum in approval, vibration pushing him over the edge. He shoots his load down your throat. When you pull off of him, he meets your gaze. "You're beautiful," he admits.

You scoff at him, knowing fully well that your hair is a mess and you have tear-stained cheeks.

He pulls his pants up as you sit up. You lay your head against his chest, listening to his pounding heart return to a normal pace.

"If you would've told teenage Beomgyu that I was going to have a smoking hot partner giving me head in this bed I would've freaked." He quipped.

You chuckle against his chest. "Shut up."

an: def not my best work but this was inspired by an edit i can’t get out of my head 😵‍💫

[justporo]

Alright, many of you already said they wanted the smutty drabbles.

Mostly they've been written for a reocurring smut Sunday prompt happening on a Discord server.

This one was written as a Holiday special - but really smut is a gift the whole year round, isn't it?

Warnings: BDSM, Sub/Dom dynamics

Jingle of the Bell

Another hard thrust, another jingle of the bell. The vampire groaned, as he dragged on your hair; taking his sweet time, twisting the strands around his delicate fingers only to tug on them harder.

He enjoyed the feeling of being buried deep inside of you and your core clenching around him in desperate need. Truly a present how he had you bent over just the way it pleased him the most.

Withdrawing, then slamming back in - more tinkling.

Your back arched while your moan was being stifled by the red silk ribbon strung over your mouth. The same smooth material he’d used to tie you up - your wrists bound to the bedpost.

“You’re my beautiful little gift”, Astarion had whispered while he had tied you up.

And he had finished wrapping you up to his liking with a red satin choker around your throat - a single golden bell on it that kept announcing your slow unravelling with each of its rings.

[tourettesdog]

DPxDC Dog Prompts

Here’s my collection of DPxDC prompts I’ve made, collected together! 

Most of them lean towards Gotham/Batpham content, since that is where my own interests with the crossover are most prominent.

A lot of these prompts have had continuations and fics added in the notes! If you like one, I’d recommend checking to see if anyone’s done more with it.

I might reorganize these some other time, perhaps by length/type of prompt, etc, but for now it’s just roughly in order of when they were posted.

If any links are broken, tell me and I’ll see about finding the link!

Adopting a ghost (just a ghost, right?)

Oops yeah Vlad’s sus

We forgot the clone detail

Let’s try that summon again

Please let me help you’re gross

An electric core

You summoned me so I’m your problem

Halfa (not that he noticed)

Dani and Haly’s Circus

Batman’s a ghost, right?

An anchor to the Zone

Accidentally raising Batman’s son

Stuck in Gotham, losing even more

John Constantine’s accidental trip

A sick trail

Too spooky no thanks

Blood Blossoms across Gotham

Trying to sneeze a way home

Accidental twin(?) acquisition

My dog now

 Old friends, unfortunate connections

Dinner interrupted

That dog’s green for another reason

Summoning a guardian instead

Danny isn’t what he expected

An uncomfortable heir

Apex predator Gotham

A girlfriend with a haunting past

Cleansing music

The forgotten queen

At the center of it all

Plans sidelined for a few ghosts

Amity stuck in the past

A dynasty built on ghosts

A haunting joke

A little to the left

Walker hates jokes

Vampiric wards?

Jack and Janet Drake go for a dig

Swapping ghosts for folks

Trapped for too long

Jason Todd: a bad anniversary

Taking care of a severed soulmate

Tim Drake has a portal accident

Disabled Dani

Technus hacks for a good cause

Freakshow picks up a stray Jay

Trying to save yourself without knowing it

Beast Boy’s a little bit spooky

The Fenton and Drake feud

A ghostly Batman

Johnny and Kitty from Gotham

Wtf just happened to the Earth?

Hood and the Holiday Truce

A Little Baby Man infestation

Jason, silent since the grave

A tomb like a cocoon

Deaged: there the whole time

Red Hood, ghostly beneath the helmet

When vigilantes ruin your disappearing act

Ghostly soul marks

Summonings and sharing exes

The call of a ghostly stone

An ill-advised cat burglary

Clockwork might not have been the best choice

Val moves to Gotham

Summoned in his stead

Damian gets to pick for once

A concerning return to AO3

The side effects of cleansing a core

Killed and saved by a joke

Red Hood gets souped

Gotham wants Jason back in his grave

A friendly ghost Robin goes missing

Wes needs to learn to shutup

Corrupted vs pure ectoplasm: FIGHT

Demon twins: an unfortunate “corpse” discovery

Demon twins: menace of Gotham

Ivy and Harley in Amity

Occult shop in Gotham

John gets pawned

Demon twins: Sam in the know (derogatory)

Crown too big for he gotdamn head

Little Baby Man after king fight

[doberbutts]

The other thing I liked about Being Human (US) is that the core cast are all incredibly flawed and damaged people who still love each other at their core and genuinely want things to work even though they make spectacularly stupid choices at times along the way.

Aiden is incredibly easy to trigger due to his laundry list of past and present issues and when he's triggered he doesn't shut down or go quiet. He gets ANGRY. He gets *violent*. There was a joke between my friend and I when we watched over the summer and holidays that he was a big fan of using neck snaps to solve his problems but was startlingly bad at dealing with the fallout except by continuing to kill people to cover up his problems. When he fights with Josh he gets personal, he's so combative and confrontational, and he wears that prickly exterior whenever someone sees through the stone mask and pokes at a fleshy bit a little too hard.

But we also see Aiden break down and cry. We see him sobbing uncontrollably as he loses control again and again and again. Every time he manages to scrape together a bit of happiness before either he or someone else fucks it all up and it blows up in his face. He wants to stop. He doesn't want to hurt people anymore. And he can't figure out how to do it because it's like hurting people and driving them away or killing them is the only thing he really knows how to do.

So many times while watching I would yell "talk to your fucking friends asshole" and he would continue to either shut them out or get close but lose his nerve halfway through and remain silent. He wanted that connection very badly and simply couldn't make it happen. The few times he did open up to Josh or Sally he was well received, which I think was really a bright point in the writing because it showed the audience that the problem was that Aiden couldn't figure out how to be vulnerable due to [redacted plot things] rather than because his friends were jerks.

And overall I think that balanced well with Sally, who's various exploits *also* usually blew up in her face, and Josh, who oscillates wildly between "sad and more than a little afraid of himself" and "picks weird hills to die on because it's literally the only way he manages to feel any amount of control in his life". Josh and Sally both frequently vent about things to Aiden, but he almost never reciprocated until pretty close to the end of the series. He hides things from them, he dodges questions, he finds convenient excuses to not talk about stuff, even when they prod and pry to get something out of him.

He only explains after things hit the fan and everything goes to shit. Usually, because his friends have been there to catch him when he falls, and he has to tell them *something* about why there's so much blood on his hands (sometimes literally) yet again. And they get mad at him, but ultimately they forgive him, because fuck, a werewolf and a ghost aren't really in any place to judge now are they. Even then, it's not usually the whole truth.

(And it's interesting, in the what-if scenario where they weren't there to catch him as he fell, just how bad things got)

But then he's afraid he's going to lose Josh, and he's afraid he's going to lose Sally, and he's afraid he's going to die, and he goes to Josh, and he says "I'm scared, and I don't know what to do".

And Josh stops, and realizes that Aiden has never asked him for help, not really, and has never actually been vulnerable with him, and has always worn the brave and stoic face even as things are melting down at catastrophic levels. And he says, I'm here.

Aiden is such a bad victim and he makes some real stinkers of bad choices along the way but they make sense for his character once you learn about all the shit that's happened since he became a vampire and how fucked up things got for him before he realized he needed out. And he backslides and he backslides and he backslides but he keeps trying because what's the point if he doesn't at least try.

Anyway the hill I will die on is that this show would have done numbers on tumblr if it came out slightly later. Ah well.

[vladdyissues]

Please give us som Vlad headcanons!!! :)

Oh boy, you're gonna wish you'd never asked 😆 Long post ahead

🎧 Vlad is a huge fan of 80s synth-pop and new wave. Depeche Mode, The Cure, The Smiths, Duran Duran, Tears For Fears, Pet Shop Boys, a-ha, and New Order, to name just a few.

🎵 On a similar (quarter) note, music from the late 70s and early 80s is still difficult for him to listen to because it reminds him of the years he was pining for Maddie, the accident, and being hospitalized. Mid-80s music and beyond, when he began to take his life back and build his wealth and power, is his "good old days" music.

🎹 Another music headcanon: In Familiar, I hinted at Vlad being a pianist. I think he'd look pretty hot playing a saxophone, maybe even a trumpet. And Martin Mull is a pretty good guitarist and singer, so Vlad also having those talents would be really cool. But I like to believe that Vlad plays the geekiest, dorkiest, nerdiest, most Slav-coded instrument of all: the accordion. Just imagine him torturing Danny and Sam and Tucker with polka music and ballads about cheese while on a camping trip. Maybe Wulf howling in agony from somewhere in the woods.

🧀 Yeah, he’s basically the negaverse equivalent of Weird Al.

👂 Vlad got his ear pierced in the mid-90s.

🔥 Despite being a fire specter ("having a fire core", to use the phandom terms), Vlad loves the cold. Winter is his favorite season, Christmas his favorite holiday. A bit of a spoiler for either chapter 13 or 14 of Familiar: Vlad is a superb ice skater.

💔 Besides his mother, Maddie was the only woman Vlad ever loved.

🐄 Vlad grew up the son of a poor Wisconsin dairy farmer. His mother was a first-generation Romanian* immigrant. He was the first member of his family to go to college, and on a full scholarship. He has no siblings. (*I may adapt Vlad’s nationality depending upon the story/art/situation, but generally I like to HC him as Romanian, which you can see on his backpack here in this AU.)

👊 Vlad was a victim of bullying in his teen years. Because of his first name and his ethnicity—not to mention his appearance and disposition: skinny, gangly, "ugly", shy, nerdy, poor—Halloween was always a miserable time for him: getting pelted with plastic vampire fangs in the hallways at school; cruel nicknames like "Count Vladislob" or "Vladis-louse"; racist remarks about his Romani mother; "Bleh bleh! I vant to suck your bluud!" It was awful.

✌️ Because he spent so many years being made to feel ashamed of his unusual name, when he became rich and successful after obtaining his ghost powers, he put his name and initial everywhere. V for Vlad.

🏈 Vlad got his love of Green Bay from his father. Apart from a shared surname, it was one of the only two (2) things he and his dad had in common.

🔧 Working on farm machinery like tractors and hay balers was the other. Vlad and his dad would often fix the farm equipment themselves rather than hire a mechanic—mostly out of necessity. Vlad is still pretty good with a monkey wrench, though in college his focus shifted from engineering to physics after meeting Jack and Maddie.

🚀 Vlad grew up in the sixties. Space race, the moon landing, the Cold War. Every kid his age had space fever. Vlad was no exception. His bedroom walls were a collage of stars, rockets, shuttles, astronauts, and cosmonauts. Yuri Gagarin was his hero. He wanted to be an astronaut when he grew up. (Just like Danny.)

🩸 I mentioned this on another post, but I'll add it here, too: Vlad's obsession with gaining more power stems from the trauma and weakness he experienced when he was hospitalized. He made a vow to never be that helpless again.

🪦 Both of Vlad's parents were dead by the time he got out of the hospital. He was estranged from the rest of the Masters family and therefore had no one to turn to.

👶 Because of this, Vlad became obsessed with having a family of his own. Ironically, the accident sterilized him. He will never be able have biological children.

🍪 Some of Vlad’s happiest memories are baking with his mother. He had (and still does have) quite a sweet tooth—and a penchant for cooking.

[autisticempathydaemon]

we stroll along (walking in a winter wonderland)

A Skyside holiday exchange gift for @sainthowlzon organized by the adored @angelicaether yes it's January fifth but it's still Winter so run with it

Tags: Vega/Warden (Darling), David/Asher, Sam/Darlin, William/Camelopardalis, Porter/Treasure, mentions of food, mild violence, mild gore Also available on AO3

It is a miraculously white Christmas in Dahlia. This year, the cold winds had blown down just right from the nearby mountains and blanketed the picturesque college town in a glistening sheet of snow straight from a Rockwell painting. Everyone, empowered and unempowered alike, can feel the wonder of Christmas magic in the air. Little did they know how close beings of pure, concentrated magic sat watching, judging. 

“I will never understand humans and their inexplicable wonder at something so pedestrian and natural as frozen, falling water,” Warden muses. In a park below, an energetic wolf shifter leaps into the snow and disappears into the unshoveled heap. His companion- his Alpha, Warden deduces from his aura- watches with an affectionate amusement that doesn’t show on his scowling face. Instead of seeing it, the Warden can taste it- the warm, honeysuckle sweetness of a love left to simmer underneath a pot lid. In contrast, the beta’s joy is fizzing, effervescent, threatening to boil over as he looks up at the taller man with a bright, sunny grin. Visible only to Warden’s Aria-borne senses, their cores mingle and harmonize.

Easily spotted by the inchoate on their rooftop perch but unseen by the enamored wolves, one of their pack sits with a vampire on the other side of the park. The two sit quietly on a bench, facing the garishly lit and decorated evergreen tree that the humans put up for the season, illuminating the boulevard with flashing, twinkling lights. Warden, who coalesced to the sight of the cosmos studded with eons-old stars, always found the ornaments on Elegy to be a poor facsimile. The couple below seem to enjoy it at least, sitting silently but comfortably, shoulders touching, as the world clatters and clamors around them. Their serenity is cool and refreshing; their comfortable intimacy tastes of warm, yeasty bread cut fresh out of the oven. 

The wolf leans their head on the vampire’s shoulder, turning to press a kiss to his scarf-covered neck, and their love adds a sweetness to their flavor. It reminds the inchoate of a rich chocolate being drizzled atop the toasted bread of their peace, the sweetness not cloying or overbearing but complementary, balanced. Unfortunately, Warden senses they are not the only d(a)emon lured by the meal and carefully retreats further into the shadows with a watchful eye. After a moment, familiar, blue-tinted horns come into view, and Camelopardalis walks from behind the tree, him and his companion waving politely at the other couple. 

At seeing their former coworker, an uncomfortable feeling stirs in the inchoate where their stomach would be. Without the added context of taste and flavor sensations, their own emotions remain inscrutable and unsatisfying, impossible to properly name or express. When they see Cam smiling so easily, arm in arm with his vampire companion, Warden cannot say what the twisting in their abdomen means, what the magic running sharp and cold under their skin is trying to convey; they just know they don’t like it. 

To escape the frivolity and saccharine spectacle, the inchoate travels across the rooftops, walking through the rifts from one to another. The snow, lights, and auras blur into a monotonous, humming drone, a dull, tasteless barrage of one-dimensional sweetness on Warden’s tongue. Then something heady edges alongside their consciousness- something rich and spicy like Christmas wine spiked with cloves paired with prime rib dripping with herbed tallow. 

In the alleyway below, another vampire uses the din of the nearby street to cloak his misdeeds. Warden watches as a knife- surely laced with demon blood by the way its waning magic calls to them- is buried in another vampire’s throat and twisted with callous efficiency. It is done so quickly, with such sharp, unyielding movements, that the inchoate hardly has time to savor his bloodlust before it blends with the sour, metallic tang of grim pride at a bloody job well done. The man turns on his heel, strutting down the alley and tossing the blade over his shoulder with gloved hands and hardly a care. He walks with purpose, a bounce in his step, and a feeling emanating off of him too lusting and hungry to be called happiness. The vampire’s intense, tempestuous emotions mix into a potent cocktail reminiscent of gore and viscera, the only sweetness that of slain flesh. It both repulses Warden and entices them; their core hums in want.

“My Darling,” a rumbling voice hums in their mind. “Did you find us something to eat?” Vega’s claws trail lightly down Warden’s horns, sending shivers down their corporeal form, and they nod obediently, wordlessly. The sadism demon nods approvingly at them, his eyes glow a piercing, burning red; he turns, skulking toward that night’s meal, and Warden follows like a lamb to the shepherd, a magi to the brightest star.

[kentnaturaltribrid]

Left: Without a hanging system and is a scenery. Hoping it will hold up well with the hanging system, which is making even more rustic.

Middle through Bottom: It’s got a light brown color string for the hanging piece and as for the rest it’s as rustic as can be. And as cute and complex as well, as far as it goes there’s in the one corner is a red flower for the gardens and then behind the house in the corner is a rustic brown and black coffin. ⚰️ The latter of the three things is the house being quite pink as ever. For well it’s complicated, but pink for the desolate and dreamer, as well as desoriates and desvorates. The house is a light pink with a rustic roof and has a bright blue window and white door with black knob. The black on it is for the darkness and the white, which is most of the door is for the light and good. It’s complicated, but the house is very much a cute little space and the pink is around every piece of it, except that it’s still complicated and in the corners lay the remains of the rest of the scene pairing a black and red on the front part of the coffin and the top for eternity and for decades. The red is also for lies in the background of the top piece, while the black remains as the truth. The blue part which is the window only, is for wheels and swords, but it’s a light blue due to the contrast needed to be a stronger one of a variable in which there is only at least 12 options and they make it no easier to see the way things work. The pink house is there as the rustic roof type due to the desoniate, which is not exactly the one that will bring much of the piece to a charm length let-alone anymore of a piece that fits the design of those dream home America type full on typical white walls on the inside and pink exterior and all that. Instead the door is purely white and the exterior structure is still pink, both of which are individual and indistinguishable places in which the scenery is more effective and efficient. The door is all white due to the main lack of a single system of the dream being far less than an effective piece unless one really must have the time. The house of rustic pink exterior is designed as a older version of a much more complex scenic and much more contemporary little bold but not as much as the gardens and the coffin, while those are still as much of a highlight parts of the scenery and make it much more complex than it already was. The garden flower side which is red only is there for the lies and desvoniate, which is the dralconian and dark term for the garden is all but those who came before while in reality it is all the lies and desolate structures that are there, while the structure of the coffin is entirely on its own a rustic structure with very little red and blacks of a reflection of the mirrors 🪞. Of which, the blacks and the red side are incolianate and they’re mixed nearby one another but not exactly and extremely excessively there, used as a hidden structure. Tbe blacks are the truth and the reds are lies Among many other things, including those who came before full of nothing but slack and lack of trust with lack of truth. The main structure is rustic brown for the decades of the past and the decades full of mistakes and failures Among other things full of lies themselves as well, though on another note makes it that much more convenient old school piece rather than something entirely random and a lack of skill. The latter of which it still is a work in progress for what I was thinking of using it for in the time ahead of schedules and ahead of time for rather than have it sitting on the side doing nothing. Still quite complex, but it is not the only piece that was out of the ordinary ready for even being within reach and reasonable enough of a even further rustic style due to the hanging side of the piece has a brown rather than anything else, plus with only three options there, the logic of the rustic functionality and the overall design of the rustic system of the piece is very much so that it is left to highlight the small pieces in time even those that seem to make less of a sense than they already are, but instead of the red being any of a highlight worth the extra detail.

[popentertainment-moviereviews]

DRACULA, A COMEDY OF TERRORS

Starring Jordan Boatman, Arnie Burton, James Daly, Ellen Harvey and Andrew Keenan-Bolger. 

Written by Gordon Greenberg and Steve Rosen.

Directed by Gordon Greenberg.

Playing at New World Stages – Stage 5 – 340 West 50th Street – New York. Run: Through January 7th, 2024.

A New Live Production, Dracula, A Comedy of Terrors, Reveals A High Camp Side to this Story of The Undead Count

One thing you can count on every Halloween is an appearance of Dracula or, at least, some form of a vampire added to the mix. That could mean a re-run of the many classic films with the undead count such as Universal’s original version of Dracula (with Bela Lugosi) or Hammer’s The Horror of Dracula (with Christopher Lee). But this scary season doesn't necessarily require an appearance of the original bloodsucker himself. It could include some resurrection of his character in a movie, play or live visual presentation in some haunted house.

In 1897, when Irish author Bram Stoker published his long-wrought novel Dracula for just six shillings, he didn’t realize that he’d created one of the most iconic figures of all time. Though this story of an aristocratic, undead mastermind was popular in its day, little did Stoker know that his blood-drinking, soulless monster of the night would become the source of countless permutations, reinterpretations, and re-examinations of this creature and its implications. There’s even a Bram Stoker Festival in Dublin which celebrates the Gothic, the supernatural, the after-dark and Victorian as well as the Count himself.

Of course, along with Stoker’s horror classic, the inevitable humorous satires, parodies, and various send ups cropped up. From a tale of the ageless Count needing to leave his ancient homeland to resettle in England to tap fresh blood, the original gothic narrative has often been revised with sometimes hilarious results.

Now, through Dracula, A Comedy of Terrors, this battle with the master of the undead receives an outlandish rethink. Enabled by a compact, five-person cast – Jordan Boatman, Arnie Burton, James Daly, Ellen Harvey, and Andrew Keenan-Bolger – this rapid-fire comedic reimagining of this archetypal tale garners guffaws and lots of snickering. 

Taking off from the original’s classic characters, they’re transformed into these versions: sweet Lucy Westfeldt, vampire hunter Jean Van Helsing, insect consumer Percy Renfield, and behavioral psychiatrist Wallace Westfeldt, among others. Here they find themselves in a faux British country estate which doubles as a free-range mental asylum. With its cast of slapstick, quick change comics who switch roles with the aplomb of fast handed pickpockets, this Dracula not only makes you scream, but it does it with laughter. The show also exposes a fundamental ridiculousness that illustrates just how resilient the original concept is: it can take jabs even at its core of terror and still retain a certain majestic-ness.

Through its compact 90-minute show, elements of goth, camp, and variant sexuality are thrown into a gender-bending, quick-change romp. With all the wacky characters, a pansexual Gen-Z Count Dracula tops the list of existentially challenged characters. 

As a buddy of notorious gay Victorian author Oscar Wilde, the actual Stoker was believed to be a closeted gay man in a repressive England, so his novel was rife with suggestive sexuality and gender reversals. Director/co-writers Gordon Greenberg and Steve Rosen’s send-up of this novel is meant to be viewed through a very contemporary lens. 

Just as the book transcended other Gothic horror of its day, this comedy rises above being simple holiday fare. Make your way to the Westside’s New World Stages for a comedic jab at the jugular.

Brad Balfour

Copyright ©2023 PopEntertainment.com. All rights reserved. Posted: November 8, 2023.

[original-character-championship]

Bracket A Round 1

Poll 15

Valrik (@newspecies) vs. Nightcore (@pastelkonpeito)

Valrik

he/it

Valrik is a living stuffed animal who always dreamed of running off to join the circus. He never got the opportunity due to parasitic butterfly shenanigans but it still loves to entertain. It was once trapped beneath the earth in a labyrinth as a ghost with only its own corpse as company. He's out now though so its fine! Completely fine.

It is a pink furry creature with a white face, long yellow fangs, a red nose, and red at the corners of his mouth. most of his fur is pink but his paws are white and the tips of his forked tail are also white. Its claws are bright red and its eyes are purple with spirals in them. He also has claws like a velociraptor on his feet. His outfit includes a red tailcoat, green frills around his neck, wrists and waist, a white tutu, and purple pants. This isn't included in any pictures because they are well hidden, but he has tiny sewn seams to keep his body together.

Nightcore

She/sir (ghoul has a wonky gender!)

THE ONE AND ONLY (for legal reasons I must admit she is one of many) SPIRIT OF HALLOWEEN, CORE, VAMPIRE OF THE NIGHT! A snazzy vampire who exists for one reason, celebrating the spooky month! She feels a lot of pressure in her job, and keeps her reputation clean. No swear words! This is a child friendly holiday! She would never encourage bullying either! But at the end of the day, she loves her job, and every second of being a spirit.

Either a blue-gray cat with magenta bat wings, or a lean teenager with bright magenta hair, bat wings, fangs, and heavy emo clothes on. (unless it's Halloween, in which case DAPPER SUIT)

[corvidcrybaby]

I must know more about Judah and Rabbi Loew! Please tell me who they're all about. What are their connections to Zemira?

EEEEE TYSM FOR THE ASK I'M SO SORRY FOR THE LATE ASS RESPONSE.......!!! I'm glad someone finds them interesting, they're easily the hardest part of Lesions of a Different Kind to write but I find them so deeply moving and fun to explore. I'm gonna copypaste some info from a fucking essay I wrote a friend regarding Judah.

JUDAH

Judah the Hammer is based directly off of the real historical figure of Judah Maccabee, the inspired guerrilla commander who was the mastermind behind much of the Jewish victories during the Maccabean Revolt. This was a real historical event in the 160's BC which saw a Judean revolt oust the Hellenic Seleucid Empire from its control over Judea, and an end to their Hellenization policies which threatened to erase the lion's share of Jewish traditions and identity at the time. The holiday of Hanukkah commemorates this story and the miracle of the oil.

In my Hellsing fic, Judah is the primary antagonist. Rather than dying in his suicide charge at Elasa, this version of Judah was turned into a vampire, and still walks the Earth. This event thoroughly shattered his worldview and his understanding of his role in it. As the antag, he forms an important foil with Alucard, because Alucard did much the same shit that Judah did - guerrilla warfare waged against a larger, more powerful empire, complete with being remembered as a total brute of a man - with the major difference being that Judah's war was victorious. He just didn't get to live to see it.

When I set out to design the prime antag for Lesions it was a tough call. I knew I wanted it to be an 'ancient world' vampire, and I wanted to keep up the trend of a historical figure being a vampire such as with Alucard and Erzsebet - which, yes, I like Hirano's other project Drifters quite a lot, don't @ me LOL. But then I also decided I wanted it to be personal to Zemira in some way, shape or form in such a way that would challenge her in a meaningful way and also be her worst nightmare incarnate. I was really hesitant to go there with this character for obvious reasons, but then I remembered that part of why I love Hellsing so much is that it isn't afraid to go there and tackle the uncomfortable topics in these big grandiose orgies of violence and philosophizing and grand tragedy. And I got to wondering about the dynamics between a medieval warlord like Vlad III and a warlord from antiquity like Judah Maccabee and how they would differ and relate to and from one another, and decided that that topic and the way people lionize historical figures and re-interpret them to fit the needs of their time. I've always found that topic intriguing as a historian because I first and foremost consider it folly, no matter what argument you're trying to make with them. But on the other hand, these were real people whose actions shaped the world we live in now, and I suppose I wanted to explore with the horrific matrix we call vampirism might do to a man like Judah, and how it would highlight and distort his character traits. I also, of course, wanted to make him a foil that Alucard could face down that would enhance his appreciation for Zemira's traits that are so distinctly hers (her rebellious attitude, her tenacious-to-the-point-of-stupidity tendencies, her disregard for power structures that don't respect her, et cetera) while also giving Zemira a "this you???" kind of antag that will make her question herself and grow into a stronger person.

Judah is an embodiment of Jewish rage. All the trauma, all the anger, all the suffering and all the cruel irony of two thousand years of antisemitism coalesced onto the shoulders of a single man. A man who, to his own community, is controversial and complicated. A cautionary tale to some, an inspiration to others. Sometimes for good reasons, other times for bad - but always drawing from the same core story of who Judah the Hammer was and what he did.

So from the time of his turning, Judah took it upon himself to wander the Earth as a foul-tempered arbiter of retribution for the horrors the Gentile world inflicts onto Jews. For every Jew murdered in a hate crime, he would take the life of a Gentile - with a particular hyperfixation on Europeans, as these were his sworn enemy in life, and that hatred extends particularly to Christianity, who he views as the torchbearers of Hellenic influence and outright calls them cultists; he's definitely disappeared plenty of villages throughout the rest of the world, mind you, definitely destroyed some mosques, but his main tunnelvision is upon Europe. I feel like if he were to put forward an insane Old Man Conspiracy Theory, it would be that Jesus was actually a Hellenized Jew or some shit like that and therefore a Greek and therefore the enemy. He is an ancient vampire and every bit the giga-powerful behemoth you'd expect from a being his age, but he chafes at the body he inhabits and has never fully accepted that he is what he is now (meaning he and Zemira both know what it's like to exist in a body that isn't home to them). He exists in the role of a spirit of temptation, but is in fact ace, and generally hates being touched. Oftentimes he wouldn't even kill for food, and in fact, still despises drinking blood and has never truly acclimated to it, only drinking from people he considered deplorable enough to take into himself and weaponize against their kindred, be it as a thrall or as something to simply sustain his existence. He prefers to carry and eat bones, as he dislikes waste and excess, and considers drinking blood to be a gross indulgence.

Is he grandiose, or pathetic? Tragic hero, or petty opportunist? DId he truly take up this mantle of being a spirit of vengeance out of a belief it was G-d's intention for him, or did he window-shop a hypothesis for an event (his turning) that he had no control over and traumatized him deeper than he could ever hope to recover from? Is he to blame for his callous reduction of peoples' lives to political 'gotchas', or is that a product of his time that anyone on a high horse about their morals would have fallen into as well? Does his vampirism make him a monster, or was he monstrous before an infectious Nosferatu's fangs got anywhere near him?

There aren't a lot of clear answers in the text about this because I mostly use him to pose difficult questions to the cast of Lesions, and how they react to him determines much of who and what they are. He's extremely difficult to write well and I've rewritten his scenes more often than any other characters, but I love him.

Yet even with all this grim characterization, Judah is a character that is just an endless blast to write for and daydream about. Whereas Alucard is all pomp and circumstance, elegance and dramatism, Judah is rugged, foul-mouthed just like Zemi, and with a crotchety old man mean streak a mile wide. When he moves about, his body acts like it's being controlled by a drunken puppeteer - very 'HOW DO I DRIVE THIS THING???' energy, because vampirism in Hellsing is often framed in Christian terms. Therefore, as a Jew, it's really hard for him to acclimate to it, and his fight scenes have major Drunk Monk energy. The text calls him "a boulder of a man" as opposed to Alucard's gracile and lanky build, and is shorter than him at six-foot-even (since people used to be smaller in the ancient world, generally).

He's an angry old man, he's a dude who's sad that his little brother died in front of him, he's your orthodox uncle with a bad attitude who tries to corner you at the family function to tell you how you're off the derech, he's Oscar the Grouch in vampire form, and his fight scenes are shockingly violent. Alucard kills people and makes a spectacle of it, but Judah's kills read like you found a video of a guy bludgeoning a fellow inmate to death with a lead pipe in a high-security prison that got released on Liveleak or something.

Also, my voiceclaim for him is Brok from God of War: Ragnarok.

He's a dick, but it's hard to look away whenever he's talking. And I love him for it. <3

RABBI LOEW

Shifting gears here, Rabbi Loew is, much like Judah, the very same Rabbi Loew as the real person who is fabled to have created the legendary Golem of Prague - in my Hellsing fic, he's done just that, and still resides in what looks to be a decrepit old mansion in Prague, but will reveal itself as a safe haven for Jews who are in a bad spot. He's essentially the Prophet Elijah figure of the story - he appears to people along with his golem in scenarios where they are deeply and truly lost and in need of guidance, giving them a comforting nudge in the direction they need. He's a repository for endless depths of knowledge, and opposed to the rest of the Hellsing cast who are so fond of carrying themselves with over-the-top aesthetic maximalism, Rabbi Loew is very simple, very soft-spoken, and although he can absolutely get angry and does so in the story, he hardly ever raises his voice. He's part of an important web of foils that includes Rabbi Loew & his golem (simply named Guard in the text) versus Integra and Alucard, as well as how he represents a defunct, dead-in-the-water version of the Integra/Alucard boss and servant bond due to his complicated and fraught relationship with Judah.

Rabbi Loew actually contributed some of magical binding seals used to tie Alucard to the Hellsing family, which furthers the golem parallel so core to the story. But the elephant in the room here is that Rabbi Loew does not have Judah bound in a similar manner. Judah comes and goes from the mansion in Prague at random. Usually, he swings by just to rest for a bit, and maybe pick a few obnoxious arguments with Rabbi Loew. There is a great deal of uncertainty in how they interact. On the one hand, Judah is four times Rabbi Loew's age, but the latter actually looks like an old man, where as Judah looks around his mid-to-late-fifties, and is found of calling him "Old Guy." Rabbi Loew is, well, a fucking Rabbi, and therefore commands a certain kind of deference and respect amongst most Jews, especially as a legendary figure - but Judah is a figure even more legendary in Jewish history, and comes from a time in which Rabbinic Judaism was not the standard (Second Temple Judaism, to be specific), thus meaning they are separated by time in more ways than one. I think secretly both persons look to the other for inspiration, but are always saddened and frustrated by what they find. Judah finds Rabbi Loew to be overly passive and toothless, despite their first meeting being Rabbi Loew coming upon the Hammer brutalizing and torturing a Cossack to death in a shockingly violent manner, and saying "Not that I'm opposed to cracking a few skulls when push comes to shove, but don't you think this is a bit much?" And despite Judah's dislike for the old Rabbi's attitude, he often finds himself yielding when Rabbi Loew checks him on his brutality. But when his Rabbi isn't around, Judah continues on his usual sporadic outbursts of vengeful violence on Gentile communities, believing that if he was cursed with vampirism, then he must become like one of the Plagues of Egypt itself. HaShem did terrible things in the name of justice then, and Judah sees himself as one of those further terrible necessities, instead of his own person.

Rabbi Loew hates this.

Rabbi Loew looks at Judah and thinks of how much good a person like him could do with the mind-blowing powers of vampirism at his disposal. The lives he could save, the atrocities he could prevent, the connections he could build and foster, if he so chose to do so. But Judah doesn't do that. Judah is resigned to being the Hammer of Israel, the Lion of Judea, the Beast of the Levant. He is so deep in a haze of dissociation that he sometimes believes everything around him is the nightmarish hallucination of a dying man (as though he's on an acid trip that never ended) that he doesn't at all consider that maybe he could make this extended lifespan of his mean something. He doesn't consider that wandering the Earth and murdering Gentiles to "keep the score even" isn't actually helpful. He thinks it's beyond his purview. And Rabbi Loew can't help but keep trying to Uncle Iroh this touchy motherfucker into a healthier headspace, but I think both men know that the old Rabbi doesn't have what it takes to truly get through to Judah. And so, detente. They share space and company and do care for one another, but it's a doomed friendship that can't go much deeper than that.

Because at the end of the day, just like any real Rabbi, Rabbi Loew is just a man. There are bells and whistles that call it into question (such as his unnatural long life, which I won't address here due to spoilers), but he's just an old fellow, doing his best to make the world a slightly less cruel place.

He gets the least engagement, but I love him too.

[always-andromeda]

Potatoes and Molasses || Alex Jones x GN!Reader

Alex Jones x GN!Reader

Word Count || 2,495

Summary || Going out at night and taking candy from strangers isn't exactly Alex's idea of a good time. But baking cookies and watching cartoons with his favorite person? That hits the spot.

Author’s Note || this one literally started with me being like "this guy needs to watch over the garden wall and be fed baked goods" and even though I have such a hard time writing pure fluff with little to no plot, that one thought was enough to birth this. enjoyyyyy.

Warnings || vague descriptions of Alex having trauma, tiny bits of angst, but mostly pure fluff!!

The first fallen leaf of fall leaves Alex anxious. But nothing really scares him. It's just another season, he reasons with himself. Another season that he'll need to get through. He'll smile at children dressed as princesses and superheroes and hand out candy at the door. And he'll try not to think of the teenagers that roam the neighborhood wearing rubber masks of fictional serial killers or plastic contoured to look like a devil's face covering their own. Because he's well aware that people don't need masks to be dangerous. No matter how nervous they make him...they're just kids. Just kids.

He was a kid once. It's hard for him to remember those times but he knows at its core that it's true.

He tries to think of that on Halloween night. Tries to grasp hard onto the end of some fleeting memory. One where the woman who'd raised him--his real mother--had thrown a sheet over him and taken him out. He was just old enough to feel embarrassed having his mother accompany him to a front door. But, otherwise, he wouldn't have gone up in the first place.

His feet stayed firmly planted at the end of the driveway, watching all the other children push past him and receive their sugary treats with no hesitation.

Then there's his mother's soft voice, "Come on, honey. They won't bite." As she held his tiny hand with a loose grasp, Alex wasn't amused at all to find that the man answering the door was dressed as a vampire.

Alex was glad that the ghost costume hid most of his worry. His big green eyes and furrowed brow were the only indication of the fear getting to him. He tried not to look at the fake blood that dripped down from the man's fangs and his shirt.

"Say 'trick or treat', Barry," he felt his mother's hand press into his lower back, urging him further on the doorstep. With the man coming closer, Alex put his brave face on. But the words wouldn't come out. He felt the wall between his words and his mouth grow bigger and bigger as the expectant stare became more and more pervasive. The bricks are thick and no amount of saliva on his dried up tongue could possibly soften the grout keeping everything glued shut.

He willed himself to just say the simple string of words. But they wouldn't come. They never would.

Instead, his mother says them for him and helps him hold out his bright orange candy bucket in the shape of a pumpkin.

"I'm sorry, he's just a little shy." His mother's tone is stern for a few seconds before she softens it again, just for him. "Let's go, sweetheart. We have a lot more houses to hit before the night is over."

That was his first and last proper Halloween before he was taken. Part of him wishes desperately that he had a better memory of it. But, in a strange way, he's mostly grateful for it. Because the people who took him didn't enjoy the holidays; not the way that they should be enjoyed. Having better memories of those times would've just been a slap in the face. No, he concludes, it's better that this time of year fills him with dread. It's better that he stay inside. It's better that he stays quiet this night; trapped in a strange sort of mourning. 

But you don't let the story end that way.

A brand new chapter is marked by more orange pumpkins. Something that he takes as a form of mockery, though he knows that there's no way you'd know about it, let alone inflict that sort of malice upon him. Deep down, he knows you mean well when you urge him to help you stick the Halloween decals on the windows overlooking the front yard.

When he struggles to see the point in the little pictures and asks why you bother, you reply confidently, "The kids like seeing them. It tells them we're a good house." Then your voice lowers and you lean into him. As if you're preparing to tell him a secret, you whisper, "Besides, we can do fun things just for ourselves, right?"

Alex repeats that sentence over and over. The gel decals cling strangely to his fingers as he presses them onto the glass, reaching the taller parts of the window that you can't quite reach.

"We're making a picture that we get to look at every day, so make sure it looks nice." You say. So Alex arranges the nicest picture he can. There's a black cat, a witch, a haunted house, a bubbling cauldron, and a ghost all surrounded by spiders and pumpkins of various shapes and sizes. The one gel cling he avoids is the vampire. You give him a confused look at the remaining figure, alone on the plastic sheet.

You laugh lightly through your nose, "Should I get that one for you, Alex?"

He scrunches up his nose and shakes his head. "I don't want that one in the picture."

Shrugging with your shoulders, you pick up the sheet and take it along with the rest of the plastic packaging to the trash. "Can't argue with that." You conclude. No questions asked. It puts him at ease.

An ease that only sets in deeper as the golden light from the sunset streams through the window. He notices how it filters through in colored fractals that land on the carpet. Vivid purples, greens, oranges, and yellows flood his vision. He swears that he could watch it forever, only limited by time itself as the day grew later.

Eyeing him from across the room, you open up the recipe book on the kitchen counter in front of you. Your hand grazes the worn pages and quickly you find the familiar recipe. Just the illustration of the dessert makes you begin to smile. It's a simple list of ingredients and sparse instructions. Something you're sure you and Alex can tackle easily.

You call him to the kitchen, urging him over to look at the page. Alex sees the picture first: triangles of some sort of pastry covered in zigzags of glossy icing. Then he reads the header of the page: Pumpkin Turnovers with Cinnamon Glaze.

His head raises and he shoots you a quizzical look from behind his large frames. Cooking is still one of those newer things for him. Growing up on a diet of frozen TV dinners and whatever crockpot meals Holly had known how to make had left him close to inept with every appliance aside from the microwave.

Yet he still seems eager, running a tentative fingertip down the list of ingredients. He can't remember the last time he had something with pumpkin in it, but he can barely recall the flavor; something akin to a sweet potato and a dash of bitterness.

There's safety in your movements. You know exactly what you're doing, unwrapping the pre-made sheets of puff pastry and showing him how to cook down the pumpkin puree along with all the spices that nearly make him sneeze. Above all else, you're patient with him. There's no hand at the small of his back, pushing him along. It's comfortable. 

You each spoon little scoops of the pumpkin paste mixture into the center of the pasty squares. He's careful to make sure not to overfill them, not wanting them to be unable to close properly. 

Watching him put about a tablespoon in each, you chuckle a bit and lean closer to him. "You know you can put more in there, right? We want them bursting with the pumpkin."

Bursting. That's something else he repeats to himself. It's a word that takes a bit to warm up to him, but he likes it nonetheless. It's rich and indulgent and descriptive. It's a word that makes him want to be a little bit selfish. So he doubles up on the filling and by the end, he sticks the spoon in his mouth, completely cleaning the mixture off of the end.

It's just as good as he remembers it tasting; probably even better. And you just laugh. You laugh with him instead of at him, pointing out the little bit of pumpkin that managed to miss his mouth on the little journey.

Alex swipes the fallen bit of  pumpkin from off of his chin and licks the glob off of his fingertip. He smiles, "That...is really good."

"It better be," you snort, "Because we're gonna have two dozen of these that we'll need to get through in the next week. I doubt we're going to have trouble with that, though."

Taking a step back, Alex admires yours and his handy work: two sheet pans lined with parchment paper, each holding a dozen pouches of autumnal bliss. Off to the side was a bowl of the glaze that would eventually be drizzled over the top of the golden pastries.

You stick one of the pans into the preheated oven and set the timer for fifteen minutes.

"How about we turn on something to watch while those cook? When the timer goes off you can go switch the pans out, yeah" You ask, staring at him expectantly. Alex gives you a firm, confident nod before letting you pass by him, heading to the living room.

You and Alex watch plenty of shows that are supposedly meant for children. For you, it's usually a wave of nostalgia and for Alex, it's usually an introduction to some new cartoon. This time is no different, yet, it's special. You carried lots of little seasonal traditions with you and somehow, Alex had always managed to miss out on this one: your yearly rewatch of Over the Garden Wall.

It feels different than most "kids shows" you've ever seen. Maybe because in a landscape of low budget CGI, lighting fast jump cuts, and mind numbingly boring storylines, this one embraces its artistry. All you can hope as you turn on the first episode is that Alex can find the same warmth and coziness in the tale of two brothers.

You watch his expression every few seconds, both excited and nervous to see his reaction at certain bits. In his own way, Alex can be a little animated, making dramatic faces that always delight you. When most people grow up, some part of them stifles those behaviors. Folks get older and for some reason, they decide they're too good for pure, unadulterated, happiness that overtakes their entire being. But not Alex.

That's one thing you love most about him, when he feels something, he feels it in its entirety.

Beep, beep, beep

The timer rudely blares, yet you're the only one who seems to notice it.

With his eyes practically glued to the screen in concentration, you don't have the heart to break it. It's rare to see him take to a piece of media so quickly and you wish it would happen more. It makes you happier than anything seeing him having moments like this. You've noticed how much more open he seems when his mind latches onto something of comfort.

Besides, Alex doesn't even notice you getting up to go check on the pastries before the timer goes off. You decide they need a few more minutes. You spend those minutes watching the back of Alex's head as he sits on the living room couch, neck slightly craned forward to he's closer to the television screen. 

"So, let's small talk. My name's Greg. What's yours?"

"Beatrice."

"My brother's name is Wirt..."

"Who cares."

You swear you hear Alex laugh a little at the exchange between the eccentric young boy and the curt bluebird. It's not terribly funny, but the fact that Alex laughed at it makes you sniff slightly. Once the first batch is ready, you switch the pans around and reason with yourself that it's probably best for you to do the dishes now. You know that the second you sit down with a pumpkin turnover, there's a good chance you're not getting up again.

You look forward to having the night in. As much as you love handing out candy and counting up how many children come to the door in superhero costumes versus princess costumes, you have always had a hard time ignoring Alex's quiet hesitation. Holidays can be hard for him, you're well aware.

They're usually reminders and triggers of other little events, ones that you're sure he does his best to leave behind in the comfort of his therapists' office. 

You try not to pry or pick at him. And you try to understand how some things might not come as easy to him. Yet, something about that is fulfilling to experience with him. Removing the heartbreak that you feel when you realize why he's so clueless to so many things, it's pure joy that runs through your heart. You love getting to watch his eyes light up when he discovers a new favorite. Whenever he tries something new. Hell, anytime he conquers a fear that you worried he'd never get over. You let him push himself, because at the end of the day, you know he can.

But as much as you like those moments, you like these too. You like the sound of him humming to himself when you call him out into the kitchen. You're absolutely sure he'd be more upset with you digging into the dessert without him over having him pause the show.

Right off the bat, you know he'll be repeating the song he heard in the show for days, maybe even weeks, to come.

Through a mouthful of flaky pastry, you ask, "Hey, what were you humming a minute ago?" There's a smile trapped in the corner of your lips; you know full well what the song was, but you wouldn't miss the chance to hear him sing it.

Through a mouthful of dessert, Alex sings in his enthusiastic, lilting voice:

“Oh, potatoes and molasses

If you want some, oh, just ask us

They're warm and soft like puppies and socks

Filled with cream and candy rocks!”

And by the time he finishes with the first verse, you join along, not caring about how you sound.

“Oh, potatoes and molasses

It's the only thing left on your task list

They're short and stout, they make everyone shout

For potatoes and molasses.” It's at this moment where Alex decides he can tolerate the holidays. As long as there are freshly baked desserts, cartoons, warm blankets, crooked smiles at little jokes, and off key voices to sing silly songs, he can be happy. No bloody vampire on the window or forceful hand at his back can shake him; for that hand has morphed into yours, handing him one more pocket of golden pastry, bursting with sugar and spice as you urge him back to the living room to finish the show.