#and do i need to say anything about carmilla and jade

[the-travelling-witch]

no clue if i'm doing the valentine's ask game right at all BUT-!!

i'm curious how cass & leona / selene & angelica / carmilla & jade would spend valentine's day 👀 (you can pick which ones to yap about i know it's a lot ghdlkjs)

omg ian, hiiiii!! first of all happy valentine's day, i hope you're having a great day <3 also i think it's less of an ask game and more of a "i'm okay receiving valentine's day asks" kind of thing, but !! ofc i'm more than happy to yap about my ocs (when am i not, is the real question)

i originally wanted to write sth for all of them but i have such a headache (+ i'm still struggling with wrist pain bc i just can't give them a break), so i decided to write a drabble for carmilla and jade bc it came easiest to me and then give my brief thoughts on the other pairings instead

Carmilla & Jade [Surf and Turf]

“I admit I’m not closely accustomed with land dwellers’ Valentine’s Day traditions, but to think that it would encompass kidnapping your beloved into the woods… How very intriguing indeed.”

“Oh shush, you. It’s not much further now,” Carmilla giggled, continuing to lead the way into the woods just shy of NRC’s campus. The sun had already begun to settle in for the night, cosying into her bed behind the horizon and illuminating the students’ trail with the last golden rays. It wouldn’t be much longer, however, until their path would be lighted by the flickering blue flames at Carmilla’s command. “So Valentine’s day isn’t a thing under the sea?”

“Hm, as many of humankind’s customs do, it has started catching on with merfolk. Though mainly with those living closer to the surface,” Jade answered easily, still placidly letting himself be led up one of his favourite hiking trails by their intertwined hands. His mood had been rather cheerful ever since the fox had appeared in his dorm with an enigmatic grin and the promise of a surprise. “It has yet to sink into the waters of the deep sea, if you will. And I reckon our Valentine’s gifts would be rather unique, too. Perhaps I could interest you in a seaweed bouquet?”

“If anyone could make that sound appealing, it would be you, I’m afraid,” the fae laughed, equally bright. With all her Valentine’s shoots wrapped up ahead of time, she’d been eager to spend time with her merman. Though confident in what she had prepared for him, there was still an undergoing current of nervousness within her. “Without wanting to spoil anything, I guess you could say my gift isn’t your typical bouquet of roses either.”

Putting his free hand over his chest, Jade gasped in faux surprise. “And here I was thinking you were leading me up the mountains to grant me with an overpriced armful of cut flowers and a heart shaped box of chocolates.”

“I should have known you’d figure it out. Oh dear, you know me too well, it appears,” Carmilla played along with a heart wrenching sigh. Then, she stopped in an inconspicuous part of the trail. “Ooh we’re here already. You trust me, right?”

“I do, of course,” Jade replied, tilting his head to the side, intrigued by the implications of her question. When Carmilla untied a silky ribbon from her outfit, he understood her intentions immediately. A shiver of electricity zapped down his spine in anticipation as he leant forward slightly, so she could tie it gently around his eyes. My, wasn’t she the most darling girl ever, keeping him on his toes and surprising him at every turn?

In the end, the blindfold didn’t stay on for long in this terrain, only serving to ramp up his anticipation even more at the last moment. After a few careful metres over the forest soil -though he noted that someone seemingly removed all tricky obstacles- the ground beneath his shoes became softer with the texture of grass and moss, leading him to believe they’d arrived at a forest clearing of some sort. With his vision blocked, his other senses had sharpened but instead of taking in nature’s sounds, Jade honed in on the company of the person next to him. He didn’t need to see her to be conscious of Carmilla’s presence surrounding him, flickering in and out like one of her fairy lights but never leaving his side.

Then, the knot in the silk scarf came undone, the ribbon fluttering down to rest over his shoulder. Jade blinked a few times, trying to process what it was he was seeing.

“So, what do you think?” Carmilla supplied, slinking next to him and wrapping an arm around his, gently encouraging him to take a closer look.

They were indeed standing in a small glade, one Jade had never noticed despite his frequent hikes around the area. Looking back over his shoulder, he could say with certainty the path the two of them had taken had not been there before. Or had been very well concealed. Small, floating lights illuminated their surroundings, dipping the pine trees and moss in warm light. What caught his attention most of all though was what was growing inside clearing. Mushrooms of varying shapes, sizes and colours -some even glowing with bioluminescence- were sprouting all around them, decorating the area. It was clear they were not native to Sage Island, for he had never seen them before. Also obvious was that someone had taken great care in growing them.

“Do you like your gift?” Prodding the eel a little, Carmilla carefully studied his reaction. Perhaps the silence would have felt intimidating if she couldn’t spot that particular gleam of fascination in his heterochromatic eyes she loved so much. “I remembered how interested you seemed when I told you about the mushrooms I saw back in Briar Valley. So I contacted an old friend who still lives there to see what I could do.”

Strong arms wrapped around her in response, pulling her fully into his space, coaxing a surprised laugh from her. Reciprocating the action, Carmilla leaned fully into him, savouring the closeness and the safety of happily burrowing into his chest. Even as Jade let go, he didn’t allow her to float past his reach. Instead keeping Carmilla anchored to him by cupping her cheeks in his gloved hands.

“My dearest pearl, you didn’t seriously believe I would dislike this surprise of yours, did you? Surely you know me better than that.” He sealed his warm words a telling kiss, one that Carmilla all too happily tip-toed up into. There was rosiness to both of the students’ cheeks as they parted again, their fingers intertwining instead. “In case I must make myself even more clear, I doubt I have ever received a more thoughtful gift. You’ve set a high bar for me to clear when it’s my turn.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to make it too easy for you, right? I’d hate for you to grow bored of it,” Carmilla teased, giving his hand a fond squeeze. There was a mischievous gleam in her eyes as she added, “Perhaps, however, you should check the entire gift before you start scheming with revenge.”

“Oh? What else could you possibly have prepared? You really do love going all out, don’t you?” Shaking his head affectionately, dual-coloured eyes tracked the movement of her arm as she reached behind her and pulled a book out of thin air. Handing it to him, Jade recognised the handwriting on the cover as hers immediately. “Is this-“

“A compendium of sorts, written by yours truly,” Carmilla offered, winking at him. “Someone once imparted on me the importance of taking notes when it comes to horticulture.”

“How is it that you make me fall in love with you even more than I already have?” Carefully flipping through the pages, ghosting his fingers over delicate writing and detailed illustrations, it really started to sink in how much planning had gone into this surprise. It spurred his motivation to plan what he would give her in return. Oh, he couldn’t wait to return to his room and get creative.

For now, however, he was content to stay in this small sanctuary a little longer. A blanket was spread over the grass for the two to settle down on, Carmilla happily leaning her head against Jade’s shoulder as he poured over the book and compared it with the mushrooms in front of them. Every now and then, she would point out certain things to him, adding bits and pieces to his fascinated rambling. Mostly though, she was just happy to listen to his voice, basking in the tranquility and peace of his presence and letting his excitement infect her, too.

Even without using her unique magic, Carmilla could feel the love between the two of them, spreading a warmth throughout her like no other. A few years ago, the fae couldn’t have phathomed going out of her way for somebody else like this, let alone spending days and weeks on a mere present. Now she was glad she did.

Cass & Leona [Golden Hour]

“Oi herbivore, do you know what day is today?” 

“Friday.” 

“…It’s Valentine’s Day.” 

“So you guys have commercial holidays too huh?”

In a total reversal of expectations, Leona is probably the one who brings up Valentine’s Day as a topic during lunch break in the botanical gardens. While Cass is also aware of the traditions, it’s not something she particularly cares about and she didn’t think Leona was the type to either. Which she is kinda right about, to be honest.

The only reason Leona entertains the custom in the first place is because, despite himself, he really didn’t want to disappoint any expectations he thought Cass might have. And, secondly, he’s not dumb. He knows Cass is well-known and well-liked by quite a few people and he’s normally not all in people’s faces with their relationship. Meaning, he wants to shut down the possibility of anyone getting any funny ideas about confessing to her.

So, he very unceremoniously gives Cass a present in the form of a piece of jewellery. This could either be a beaded or golden bracelet, a necklace or a charm for her camp necklace or a hair accessory he can braid into her locks. As long as it’s unmistakably his and easy for others to identify as such, he’s content. There’s a high chance it’s actually a piece of his jewellery that he already had on hand and decided to give her on a whim. Definitely not because he cares about some herbivore and enjoys the idea of her always carrying around sth that he gave her. Definitely not. (He cares. So much.)

Cass lets him do as he pleases, both because she is actually a little flustered over the fact that he’s very openly staking a claim over her and because she thinks his attitude about it is funny. Sure, he is very nonchalant about it, which probably would’ve soured the day for others, but Cass is all about someone’s actions and the meaning that’s read between the lines. 

Leona’s lucky she knows he cares for her because if she didn’t, he wouldn’t get away with pulling her down for a nap after that circus. As Cass tells him about his day, he’ll hum and absentmindedly run his fingers over the jewellery, half considering if he should get her to also wear his jacket.

(At least other beastmen should get the hint by now not to try anything funny…)

Selene & Angelica [Shipname tba]

Selene and Angelica’s Valentine's Day is a lot more low-key than others might first suspect. Not because they’re not head over heels for each other. No. It’s because for them, every day is Valentine’s Day (more or less). They give each other gifts and affections throughout the year as the mood and inspiration strikes them. So sure, they’ll hang out but it’s business as usual for these two.

[seramilla]

So this au concept could get to some dark places so if you want to avoid it you can ignore this. So this is idea came to me from a post someone else made about Carmilla needing to be able to have sex. Carmilla is a rich and powerful woman who works very hard at a stressful job and sometimes needs to de-stress. Every once and a whe talks to an low level overlord she knows who is a pimp though less flashy at least publicly less abusive and gets an escort to come over so she can de-stress. She pays them very well for whatever is done and an extra bonus so they stay quiet. Anyway one night Carmilla needs to de-stress and Carmilla gets a girl who is new. Sera is a new sinner in hell with a little sister who is also her who she's caring for and it's hard to get a job in hell so she signed her soul over to do this to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table. Carmilla is captivated by this woman and gives her an even bigger bonus and sooner than normal calls Sera's boss and asks for Sera by name and starts to see her regularly. Carmilla knows she shouldn't fall for an escort but can't help it the one good thing is Sera seems to be falling for her at the same time.

I probably won’t personally write anything for this one just because it deals with some pretty heavy and sensitive topics, but I’ll post it in case it sparks anyone else’s creative juices.

All I will say is that maybe in a universe where Carmilla is a more “evil” overlord, or she’s just so jaded and lonely for having to live the way she does to stay on top in Hell, that she stops caring and goes all in on the stereotype. Like everyone expects her to be ruthless and horrible so why not? Maybe there’s a story in there of Sera softening her heart and getting her to feel things again and stop being lonely.

Also, if Sera’s under contract with Val, Carmilla would break that shit up so fast!! She would probably rend his soul apart to get at that contract, or trick him into handing it over to her.

[beevean]

Having thoughts again about N!Hector and the pathetic excluse of a plotline he was stuck in during S3.

One of the many, many ways it could be fixed is one of the simplest one: Lenore is actually believable in his quest to manipulate Hector.

In short, she'd pretend to be the Rosaly of the show.

I read many times that N!Hector isn't stupid for falling for Lenore, because poor little thing is a manchild starved for love. I say that yes, he is stupid, because Lenore doesn't do anything different from what Carmilla did one month prior. One month! That he spent being dragged through the snow! He had plenty of time to realize his mistake. Why would he trust Lenore, when she employs her same tactics of being a condescending bitch to him and also insult Dracula in the meantime - even worse, at least Carmilla waited until the end to beat the shit out of Hector; Lenore did that first thing to flex!

(this show's writing is so, so very unsubtle, and it goes past the lack of show don't tell)

So. Instead of Lenore being a smug piece of shit and spending most of her screentime in S3 treating Hector like a dog. How about actually pretending to be falling in love with him?

Actual compliments. Actual appreciation. Actual sympathy. Unconditional sympathy.

Hector being love-starved is canon. The game version and the show version went through the same thing: first, being rejected by their own parents, to the point that their own mother regretted giving birth to them; then, working for Dracula and with Isaac, which is where the two versions differ, because in the mangas Dracula appreciated Hector for his work and Isaac respected him but was also jealous of him, while in the show both of them shat on him and made clear they don't respect him one bit.

Were things more similar to the mangas, I like to think that Hector hoped that Dracula cared about him a little bit but it became obvious that he only saw him as a useful servant, while Isaac (who totally had a crush on Hector and yes I believe it's canon) always put his Lord above him.

In short, their appreciation was conditional. Be a good boy for us, Hector dear. What's that? You want to regain your agency? Well, then you'll have to die, you understand.

Then comes Rosaly who loved Hector unconditionally. She didn't care about his past or his sins: she only saw a good-hearted man and accepted him in her home despite everything. No wonder Hector declared undying loyalty to her, no wonder he cried when she said something remotely kind to him.

Imagine if Lenore did the same, but only to betray him in the end. He'd be gutted. And it would be believable! Because all the circumstances would be there for him to desperatley grasp to the one person who seems to actually respect him! I wouldn't think he's a complete dumbass for sticking his dick inside someone who said in the span of one minute "I can't betray my sisters by letting you go" and "we can run away together"!

Now, here we can go through two routes.

One, the sex scene happens and it's the same as in canon: Lenore simply uses the opportunity to slip the ring on his finger, her plan from the start. Hector is crushed. Lenore calls him her pet, and we actually see consequences of this (not necessarily other rape scenes because no thank you, but even simply the ring hurting him). During S4, Lenore starts to genuinely like Hector, but he never forgives her, betrays her in the end (you decide whether she suns herself for the guilt or he destroys her face with the hammer <3 but eh tbh in this scenario she doesn't even need to die, she can live alone in shame for all I care), and then... I don't know, I think he'd become very jaded at this point, but he could regain some hope from N!Isaac, if he doesn't act like a total patronizing dick in his final scene.

Two, the sex scene doesn't happen. Lenore actually falls for Hector, and she's torn between her loyalty to her sisters and her fondness for this poor human who maybe can understand her more than she thought. Maybe at first she chooses her sisters (she puts the ring on him but in other circumstances?), which hurts Hector, but then she changes her mind and pulls away from Carmilla's insanity - basically think of Zuko betraying the Gaang in Book 2 and regretting it in Book 3. Lenector actually looks like a viable ship and a much more organic "enemies to lovers" situation (for lack of a better word), instead of looking like rape apologism.

tl;dr: stop jerking off to vampire mommy and pay respect to the characters

[katrandomwrites]

AO3 Link \ Part Two [soon]

Short vignettes from each of the crew and their relationship with Jonny's heart.

(Is it out of character? Yeah probably but I like the sibling-esque dynamic of ‘I killed them 83 times this month but if you even touch them I will salt the earth with your desiccated remains’.)

---

Part One: Dr. Carmilla (morally grey), Jonny, The Aurora, Nastya, Ashes, and Ivy TW// mention of medical abuse | canon-typical violence | sensory overload

Doctor Carmilla, Lonely Vampire

She was proud looking down at the freshly cleaned and repaired body on her table. His chest rose and fell after a week of stillness. Carmilla almost couldn't believe that she’d finally done it. Finally restored a body to life permanently.

Her cowboy groaned as he came closer to consciousness. She placed a hand on his chest, feeling the tick and flow of his new heart. It was a good heart. He was a good kid.

She wasn’t alone anymore.

Everything could be good now.

Jonny Vangelis, Dead Cowboy

Jonny woke up. He shouldn't- How was he-

Something was ticking. Where?

His chest felt heavy and his breast bone burned.

Something cold was in his hand- no, something cold was holding his hand.

His eyes shot open and he scrambled away from the cold thing only to find himself falling to the floor. He screamed when the impact lit a blazing fire of pain in his ribs.

The cold (hands?) things were back holding his face and shushing him but the pain began to pulse.

Tic. Burn. Tic. Burn.

Jonny pulled down the collar of his shirt to see a mess of thick scars and metal seams to the left of his sternum. His breathing quickened but the ticking held it’s tempo.

“What did you do?” he screamed. Carmilla’s face was inches from his as she tried to pull him closer.

“WHAT DID YOU DO, CARMA?”

The doctor’s face broke, as if she was only now realizing what was happening; what she’d done, “I-I couldn’t lose you… not like that. Not when you were still so you-”

“You promised! You promised you’d let me go!” Jonny cried.

“I’m sorry,”

Tears were falling now as Carmilla pulled him against her. Jonny tried to push her off but the pain was too much and the coolness of her cheek against his was soothing.

“It hurts,” he sobbed, “It hurts so much. Why?”

I’m sorry.

The Aurora, Cyberian Battle-cruiser

The winner of the roulette game and her new 'owner' sauntered onto the bridge and looked around. She contemplated just electrocuting him to death once he touched anything.

"I must say you are a simply gorgeous craft," he said, running a hand over the embossed leather of the captain’s seat, "Somebody put a lot of love into your creation."

The Aurora preened a bit despite herself. At least he had good taste.

“I’m gonna have to go by some polish tho, love. You are absolutely filthy! Where they finger painting with space cheetos on the flight screen,” he looked disgusted at the greasy smears decorating the console, “Maybe a steamer? Some of this shit is worked in, darling.”

>> Thank you. I would appreciate that greatly.

The intruder looked bewildered at the flight screen and fell back into the captain's seat when she rumbled in amusement. He whipped his head around as if to find a source or rogue crewman.

>> Did you really just win a ship without knowing what it was?

>> Poor planning on your part.

The intruder took a moment to process what was happening before he crossed his arms and huffed, "I just do what the Doc tells me so she doesn't decide that I'm in need of having my chest ripped open again."

>> Judging by the way you won me: I would say that isn't detrimental to your life.

"It still fucking hurts!"

The Aurora rumbled again, finding that she quite enjoyed her guest. He may be fussing in the captain's seat, pretending to be offended, but he was still watching the screen for anything else she had to say.

It had been years since anyone had treated her as anything other than just a means of transportation with the downside of sentience. She found herself analysing him closer and realized there was a mechanically ticking coming from him.

Was he also…?

>> Well, I suppose I must register you as Captain so we may take off. I am unable to lift off without any registered crew.

Her guest shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "Not that I don't appreciate that but, uh, I think that's more her place."

The Aurora was starting to get the idea that whoever his travel companion was, they would not be getting along.

>> No

He startled and Aurora realized just how young he looked. Her previous crews were all older Cyberians weathered and jaded by constant battle. This new…. boy, looked more like the young men barely old enough to grow beards that manned her mess hall during the war.

She still remembered the sad stories they told of home.

>> No. You earned me. I am choosing you as the Captain.

"But-"

She buzzed at him before pulling up a login screen.

>> Primary Captain : Please Enter Your Information As Prompted_

Her guest hesitated before beginning to type. It was endearing how gently he placed his hand over the print reader and she could feel the strange rhythm of his heartbeat flitting across his palm.

>> Welcome Captain Jonathon E. Vangelis .

Jonathon beamed at the Aurora's screen before a look of horror dawned on him, "She's going to skin me alive," he whispered.

The Aurora hummed as anger charged her systems and pulled up another screen.

>> I have an idea

>> Loading…

>> Primary Captain profile locked and hidden.

>> Passcode Set to: Handprint and Vocal Verification

>> Loading...

>> First Mate : Please Enter Your Information As Prompted_

“But she’ll know if the Captain’s position is filled” Jonathan protested.

>> I was built to house up to three captains. Your doctor doesn’t have to know that one of the positions has been filled.

Jonathon stared at the screen with a small smile and sniffled before typing again. His accent that had rounded and drawn his words was muted under an average Basic dialect as he spoke now.

>> Welcome, First Mate Jonny d'Ville .

>> Now about those cleaning supplies...

Nastya Rasputina, Former Princess

She ran, following the instructions the Aurora had given her deeper into the ship. She turned to make sure the doctor wasn't following her and ran directly into something warm and squishy. They landed with a grunt.

Nastya scrambled up to look at the… kid? He looked at her in surprise before turning to anger and suspicion..

"How the fuck did you get down here?"

Nastya opened her mouth and realized she didn’t have a response to that. Her eyes began to burn.

“Oh shit. Fuck. I’m sorry I didn’t- Shit shit shit.”

None of this registered as Nastya began to sob. A hand brushed her arm and she threw herself into the boy’s lap. It was undignified but it felt good to be touched by a warm body instead of the doctor’s cold hands.

“Okay, shit,” he shifted her around so her face was buried in his chest.

“I-I’m sorry-, Nastya choked out, “she-she just kept poking and I couldn’t- it hurt so much.”

The arms around her shoulders tightened, causing her to turn her head and look up at him. He looked sad, not in a pitying way but a guilty way.

“I’ll talk to her okay? Sometimes… sometimes she forgets we can feel like that,” he sighed, “I’m Jonny by the way.”

Nastya vaguely remembered the Doctor mentioning there was another like her on board.

“Nastya.”

Jonny gave her a smile and leaned back against the wall with her still pressed against his chest. Nastya rested her head on his sternum and heard an odd ticking sound.

Huh , she thought distantly, that’s why he’s like me. The ticking heart to my metal blood.

Nastya fell asleep safe.

Ashes O’Reilly, Pyromaniac Gangster

Ashes took another shakey drag of their cigarette as the adrenaline from burning Malone faded. They were tired and a rotting sense of uneasy was beginning to fester in their chest.

Of course now was the time Camilla's wannabe cowboy decided to make an appearance for only the second time since Ashes had been taken in. He gave them a strange look before Ashes blew a hole in his gut.

He hit the floor with a dull thud, “Fucking rude.”

“I’m not the one who can’t knock. Were you born in a fucking barn?”

Jonny gave a sputtering laugh as he scooped a handful of intestines back into his abdomen, “Probably, either that or the chicken coop.”

Ashes snorted, the sound surprised them and Jonny grinned.

"Probably made in there too," Jonny continued, not bothering to get up when his stomach healed.

Ashes let out a full body laugh that edged into hysterical. The image of a guy in cowboy boots pushing intestines back into their gut and cracking jokes was unreal. Even after managing to burn down an entire planet.

“Uh, you okay?”

Jonny was standing in front of them now. A look of concern on his face.

Ashes rubbed a hand across their face and realized hot tears were beginning to streak down their cheeks.

They were so tired.

“I’m just-” their breathing hitched but they refused to cry, “I’m just tired. Arson really takes it out of you, ya’ know?”

Jonny’s mouth twisted into a forced smile before he sat down on the bed with them, “This may be over stepping, so go ahead and throw me out if you want but, uh, if you need to sleep, without the nightmares, I might be able to help.”

“Who said anything about nightmares?” Ashes shifted away from him.

Jonny rolled his eyes, “Do you want help or not?”

“What are you gonna do? Shoot me to sleep?”

“No, but Nastya-” Jonny’s ears turned red, “Nastya says that my ‘heartbeat’ always knocks her out. Something about the rhythm being perfectly consistent? It’s just an offer, if you’re not comf-”

“I’d like that,” Ashes said, looking away, “I’m actually not all that used to having my own room and sleeping alone yet. Never had the opportunity even in the Sevens.”

Jonny gave them a small smile before being manhandled into a pile of carefully arranged pillows. His shirt was unceremoniously ripped off in exchange for one of Ashes’ cleaner shirts. (They would not be getting that shirt back)

Ashes gave their set up a hard once over now that there was a cowboy shoved in with their stuffed Charizard before climbing in and resting their body over his.

He wiggled to get an arm free and began to run it carefully through their hair. It didn’t take long before the both of them were asleep.

Ivy Alexandria, Amnesiac Librarian

Everything was too loud and bad . Ivy stumbled through the halls with her hands over her ears in a futile attempt to block it out when the 'it' is her own brain.

She opens her eyes for a moment and instantly regrets it as everything around her seems to shout directly into her mind.

It hurt. Why did it have to hurt?

At some point she managed to find a dark place to wedge herself into and tears are soaking her collar by the time somebody finds her. She can't focus on anything but the metallic whine of her brain and the presence of something loud that she must get away from when a callused hand is suddenly holding her arm and stops the bad feeling there.

She gasps and grabs for the thing (person?) that makes the bad go away, landing in it’s lap. It rumbles something and positions her so her ear is pressed against it.

Ivy wants to fight it and sit up but then she hears something through the whining in her head.

shht tic shht tic shht tic

Hands wind around her shoulders and tangle in the hair at the base of her neck as she begins to relax and start counting the ticks.

_PersonelID [Jonny d'Ville, First Mate]

_MechID [HeartV.3.4]

__ 70 beats per minute

__Operation Efficiency [87%]

_System Notification: Access Granted to [JEVan_HeartCntrlUnit]

_MasterCommandEntry Opened

_[Assisted_SleepCycle] Enabled

_Countdown Begins

_3

_2

_1

_

[adambstingus]

Every Halloween, I Have A Story I Like To Tell

I liked Ben, I really did. I mean, he was a nice guy. We had some fun times together in college, messing around the dorm, going to parties, all the dumb shit that college guys do. He was cool and all, but he was a little pretentious. Well, I guess the word he used was artistic. He thought he was real smart, spent a lot of time trying to prove it to everyone. He had his own blog developed to film critiques not the big ones, though. Just little indie productions because nothing else was worth his time. When he got like that, he could be pretty insufferable.

Perhaps the most annoying thing that he did was performance art.

Now, I dont wanna be the guy who says that all performance art is dumb. But yeah, no, all performance art is dumb. Oh, look, youre on display painting a picture of Jesus from your own urine, how original and edgy! Maybe Im a little jaded, but it always seemed so contrived to me. Unfortunately, Ben really loved it. He thought there was something beautiful in art that was physically living and he devoted an embarrassing amount of time to it.

Anyway, I hung out with Ben a few times after college, but we mostly just met up to do some heavy drinking and maybe hit a strip club or two. He considered THAT performance art as well, which was just fine with me, it gave me an excuse to waste some ones. Since we didnt hang out very often, I had a bad feeling when he contacted me about a month before last Halloween.

He called me up at about seven in the morning on a Saturday, which is too early to even consider waking up, in my opinion. I answered in a daze and he started running his mouth like crazy, as though afraid that, if he didnt get it all out at once, he never would.

Mike, hey, Mikey, listen, buddy, I need your help, okay? Okay, okay, Ive got this idea for a performance and, well, its going to be , you know? So good! Its going down on Halloween. Can you come help? Look, Ill even pay you, man. Fifty dollars. So how bout it?

Now, Ive never cared much about Halloween one way or the other, and Im a pretty easy guy. Fifty dollars to probably just sit there and run a fog machine or some bullshit? For the right price, I could even pretend that I wanted to be there. Besides, what else are friends for?

A few days later, he gave me the details. To be honest, I was a little shocked when he sent the email. I know that performance art is intended to be edgy and can sometimes get a little dangerous, but this seemed downright negligent.

Mike:

Thanks for agreeing to do this for me! Ive talked to a few other people, but they werent really comfortable with it, for reasons youll probably be able to figure out. Of course, I understand if you want to back out, but I think you are probably the most reliable person I know. Its really not that big of a deal, Im sure youll agree.

As Im sure youve noticed, vampires have become very prominent in the media as of late. I say vampires because they are beginning to deviate so wildly from the traditional myths that they resemble forest fairies more than anything else. Altruistic? Sparkly? Whiny? Give me a break. We need more Dracula! We need more Carmilla! We need more death, destruction, and blood!

My performance will center on the theme of rebirthing the vampire. For the vampire to be reborn, he must first be buried. To turn peoples attentions back to the myths of old, I will be doing just that: I will be burying the vampire.

I have a group of viewers signed up already to participate in the performance, so you dont need to worry about that. Im going to plant a series of vampire-themed clues around town for them to follow. The clues should be pretty simple, and it will probably take no more than an hour to an hour-and-a-half for them to find me.

Here comes the somewhat controversial part. Essentially, for this performance to have any semblance of meaning, I need to be buried alive. Dont worry, its perfectly safe: I have a buddy from back home who is building me a coffin with a hole in the top. Ill be fixing it with a pipe that will stick an inch or two above the ground. That way, I wont run out of air. Ill also have a few necessities in the coffin in case something happens: food, water, and a flashlight.

Once they arrive at my grave which will be completely vampirized they will be provided with an array of shovels and will bring me back to life, a reincarnation of the true mythological history of vampires.

Here is where you come in. I need you to bury me. In addition, I need you to be my safety net: if they cant find me, if something goes wrong, if I become sick, I need you to be the one to get me out or call the police, if necessary. Ill also need you to decorate my grave, make it really creepy dont worry, Ill send you some blueprints.

I know this is a little stressful and it may take some time for you to decide, but, rest assured, this is a completely safe project. Theres no danger of suffocation and the coffin is sturdy, so its very unlikely that it will collapse. I really just need you there for support and the actual hard work of burying me.

What do you say? Id even be willing to up your pay to a hundred dollars, if thats what you need.

Let me know!

RIP,

Ben

I stared at my screen for a few minutes, completely dumbfounded.

Once I cut through all the bullshit about art and vampires and rebirth, what it came down to was death.

This guy actually wanted me to almost kill him.

I mean, sure, it probably WAS safe. But my mind went over the plan slowly. What if I couldnt get him out in time? One shovel and a pit of dirt wouldnt be a fast job. Furthermore, what if something happened to me?

Before making a decision, I sent him another email asking if he was really sure he was up for this. Of course he knew, he said. And then he said something that would always stick with me.

Art must be a little dangerous, my friend, for it to be real.

A month later, I found myself standing at the foot of a grave. It was six feet deep and perfectly rectangular. Sitting at the bottom was a tapered coffin covered with black lacquer, a white skull painted on the top. In the eye of the skull was a hole just big enough for the PVC pipe. Stenciled underneath was a line from Dracula: Denn die Todten reiten schnell.

I stood there like an idiot, waiting for Ben to show up.

In the end, Id decided to go along with his stupid gig. Ben was a stubborn bastard, and if I didnt help him, someone else would. At least, thats the justification I gave myself. But the real reason was that, deep inside my heart, his words were still echoing.

Id ended up doing a little more work than I had intended. For one, I had to place his stupid clues around the city. It wasnt hard work, but it took some time to get them all in the proper places. Luckily for Ben, they were pretty obvious clues. There was no need to worry that his participants would be unable to find him.

Ben had set up the grave and the coffin a few days prior to Halloween. It was out in the woods just on the outskirts of town, no chance of it being disturbed. Id tried to talk him out of burying it the whole six feet down.

If something happens and I need to get you out fast, what will I do? Cant you put it closer to the surface?

Ben had just shaken his head in exasperation. You just dont get it, do you? It has to be done right. Remember what I told you.

So I shrugged and let him mess around with whatever dumbassery would get him off.

I was just beginning to wonder if I should have brought more beer this promised to be a long night when Ben showed up.

I had to restrain my laughter when I saw his getup. A cheap Dracula costume from Wal-mart had never looked so pathetic, especially when topped off with those cheap plastic fangs. Hed greased his hair back and painted on a widows peak.

I couldnt resist. Wow, seriously, dude?

He gave me a stern look. Its a comment on the commercialization of vampires and horror as we know it today. He fished around in his pocket and pulled out a walkie talkie. Here, take one. The range isnt very far, but my cell phone wont work that far underground. Youll have to stay nearby. Let me know if youre going out of range.

I shrugged and took it. Okay, but you brought your cell just in case, right?

Nah, what good will it do if it doesnt work?

This guys batshit insane, I thought. But he handed me the hundred dollars and, suddenly, it didnt seem to matter anymore.

I helped him into the coffin and shut the lid. He seemed pretty calm if it were me, I knew Id be having a panic attack. I fit the PVC pipe into the hole. It slid in perfectly snug. I climbed out of the coffin and grabbed my shovel, taking one last look at the shiny black peeking out from the dirt.

With a resigned shrug, I started to shovel in the dirt. Okay, well, he asked for this, I thought.

It took almost a full hour to get all the dirt piled in. The PVC pipe was just barely visible over the grave. I piled the earth around it to hide it as well as I could. Then, I set up the rest of the grave: a hideously gothic headstone made of Styrofoam, and cheap Wal-mart flowers. Once it was finally finished, I sat back against a tree and waited.

There was an awful lot of waiting to be done.

Three hours later, his participants still hadnt come.

Hed buzzed in on the walkie talkie a few times, asking if theyd shown up. I continually answered in the negative, wondering how long hed be willing to keep up this charade. He must be getting worried, I thought, staring at my watch. It was already 10 pm and not a soul to be seen.

Hey, Mike? Something must have happened, I dont think theyre coming. Can you get me out of here? Bens voice crackled and faded in and out of the static fuzz. I took another swig of my beer and heaved a sigh.

Of course they werent coming. They were frantically searching for the last clue. My hand crept into my pocket as I felt it folded there, the creases poking at the soft flesh of my palm.

Mike? Are you there? Did you go out of range?

I turned the walkie talkie off. I didnt need it anymore, anyway. Carefully, I picked up a handful of disturbed earth from the top of the makeshift grave. I poured it down the pipe and listened.

I heard the muffled exclamation, the series of expletives. I thought I could hear a thumping sound he must be hitting the top of the coffin. I smiled a little to myself as I poured some more dirt in through the pipe.

Bens struggles got louder and I felt a certain heat rising up in me. Oh, I knew it could be good, but I didnt know it could be good. This was incredible. This was perfect. This was .

Eventually, I grew bored of shoving the earth down into the coffin. I could hear Bens screaming and sobbing reverberating up the pipe. I yanked a handkerchief out of my back pocket and stuffed it inside. I made sure to plug it up good and tight.

It would only be a matter of time, now. Assuming he could regulate his breathing, he could possibly have a few hours. But I knew he was panicking. And that would simply serve to shorten his time.

The pounding grew weaker as I finished my beer. Once I was certain there was no saving him, I went to finish my work.

Ben was right everything really did go off without a hitch. I dont know what I was so worried about.

Id gone to find his lost sheep, the wayward participants who were scrambling in frustration for the last clue. I scolded them for making us wait so long, acted the part of the reluctant friend indulging his lunatic companion. I took them out to the grave. It was now past midnight.

They sat hushed as I gave the stupid speech that Ben had prepared for me. Everything seemed normal Id made sure to stow the rag before anyone could see it.

Friends, foes, and everyone in between. Tonight we gather to resurrect the ancient horror that has plagued mankind for centuries. Its tale, once a gruesome epic of blood and seduction, has become nothing more than commercialized fodder as society has aged. Now, the time has come for the phoenix to burn and rise again. So, too, shall the blood-soaked visage of the vampire! My voice resonated throughout the woods, and the morons in attendance clapped as they all reached for their shovels.

We dug him up in about half an hour. It was much faster work with his host of suckers. It was good that we reached the coffin quickly, because I could barely contain my excitement.

Two of the men opened the coffin and screamed. The women leaned in over the grave to peek as well, full of expectancy. There was something dreadful about the scene, to be sure.

Bens face had gone gray, sprayed over with a few specs of dirt. His hands were bloody, his fingernails pried off. Deep scratches decorated the top of the lid. The men who had opened his tomb dragged him out in a panic, unsure if this was part of the performance or not. A few moments of silent listening at his chest produced no heartbeat. The proclamation was definitive: he was dead.

They screamed. They called the police. They alternatively looked at his body and shielded themselves from its horror, enraptured yet struggling.

They ignored me.

But that was fine. It was fine because they were admiring my work, the work of the artist. Finally, I had been given this opportunity to prove my worth. Finally, I had found my sacrificial lamb. And it had been a rousing success. The heat raging in my body affirmed that much. I didnt even care if I was caught, so long as I could have this moment to hold for the rest of my life.

Ben was right. I should have known a man of principle never lies. And I owe him a debt of gratitude, for realizing the artist within me.

Art must be a little dangerous for it to be real.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/every-halloween-i-have-a-story-i-like-to-tell/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/172357360662

[samanthasroberts]

Every Halloween, I Have A Story I Like To Tell

I liked Ben, I really did. I mean, he was a nice guy. We had some fun times together in college, messing around the dorm, going to parties, all the dumb shit that college guys do. He was cool and all, but he was a little pretentious. Well, I guess the word he used was artistic. He thought he was real smart, spent a lot of time trying to prove it to everyone. He had his own blog developed to film critiques not the big ones, though. Just little indie productions because nothing else was worth his time. When he got like that, he could be pretty insufferable.

Perhaps the most annoying thing that he did was performance art.

Now, I dont wanna be the guy who says that all performance art is dumb. But yeah, no, all performance art is dumb. Oh, look, youre on display painting a picture of Jesus from your own urine, how original and edgy! Maybe Im a little jaded, but it always seemed so contrived to me. Unfortunately, Ben really loved it. He thought there was something beautiful in art that was physically living and he devoted an embarrassing amount of time to it.

Anyway, I hung out with Ben a few times after college, but we mostly just met up to do some heavy drinking and maybe hit a strip club or two. He considered THAT performance art as well, which was just fine with me, it gave me an excuse to waste some ones. Since we didnt hang out very often, I had a bad feeling when he contacted me about a month before last Halloween.

He called me up at about seven in the morning on a Saturday, which is too early to even consider waking up, in my opinion. I answered in a daze and he started running his mouth like crazy, as though afraid that, if he didnt get it all out at once, he never would.

Mike, hey, Mikey, listen, buddy, I need your help, okay? Okay, okay, Ive got this idea for a performance and, well, its going to be , you know? So good! Its going down on Halloween. Can you come help? Look, Ill even pay you, man. Fifty dollars. So how bout it?

Now, Ive never cared much about Halloween one way or the other, and Im a pretty easy guy. Fifty dollars to probably just sit there and run a fog machine or some bullshit? For the right price, I could even pretend that I wanted to be there. Besides, what else are friends for?

A few days later, he gave me the details. To be honest, I was a little shocked when he sent the email. I know that performance art is intended to be edgy and can sometimes get a little dangerous, but this seemed downright negligent.

Mike:

Thanks for agreeing to do this for me! Ive talked to a few other people, but they werent really comfortable with it, for reasons youll probably be able to figure out. Of course, I understand if you want to back out, but I think you are probably the most reliable person I know. Its really not that big of a deal, Im sure youll agree.

As Im sure youve noticed, vampires have become very prominent in the media as of late. I say vampires because they are beginning to deviate so wildly from the traditional myths that they resemble forest fairies more than anything else. Altruistic? Sparkly? Whiny? Give me a break. We need more Dracula! We need more Carmilla! We need more death, destruction, and blood!

My performance will center on the theme of rebirthing the vampire. For the vampire to be reborn, he must first be buried. To turn peoples attentions back to the myths of old, I will be doing just that: I will be burying the vampire.

I have a group of viewers signed up already to participate in the performance, so you dont need to worry about that. Im going to plant a series of vampire-themed clues around town for them to follow. The clues should be pretty simple, and it will probably take no more than an hour to an hour-and-a-half for them to find me.

Here comes the somewhat controversial part. Essentially, for this performance to have any semblance of meaning, I need to be buried alive. Dont worry, its perfectly safe: I have a buddy from back home who is building me a coffin with a hole in the top. Ill be fixing it with a pipe that will stick an inch or two above the ground. That way, I wont run out of air. Ill also have a few necessities in the coffin in case something happens: food, water, and a flashlight.

Once they arrive at my grave which will be completely vampirized they will be provided with an array of shovels and will bring me back to life, a reincarnation of the true mythological history of vampires.

Here is where you come in. I need you to bury me. In addition, I need you to be my safety net: if they cant find me, if something goes wrong, if I become sick, I need you to be the one to get me out or call the police, if necessary. Ill also need you to decorate my grave, make it really creepy dont worry, Ill send you some blueprints.

I know this is a little stressful and it may take some time for you to decide, but, rest assured, this is a completely safe project. Theres no danger of suffocation and the coffin is sturdy, so its very unlikely that it will collapse. I really just need you there for support and the actual hard work of burying me.

What do you say? Id even be willing to up your pay to a hundred dollars, if thats what you need.

Let me know!

RIP,

Ben

I stared at my screen for a few minutes, completely dumbfounded.

Once I cut through all the bullshit about art and vampires and rebirth, what it came down to was death.

This guy actually wanted me to almost kill him.

I mean, sure, it probably WAS safe. But my mind went over the plan slowly. What if I couldnt get him out in time? One shovel and a pit of dirt wouldnt be a fast job. Furthermore, what if something happened to me?

Before making a decision, I sent him another email asking if he was really sure he was up for this. Of course he knew, he said. And then he said something that would always stick with me.

Art must be a little dangerous, my friend, for it to be real.

A month later, I found myself standing at the foot of a grave. It was six feet deep and perfectly rectangular. Sitting at the bottom was a tapered coffin covered with black lacquer, a white skull painted on the top. In the eye of the skull was a hole just big enough for the PVC pipe. Stenciled underneath was a line from Dracula: Denn die Todten reiten schnell.

I stood there like an idiot, waiting for Ben to show up.

In the end, Id decided to go along with his stupid gig. Ben was a stubborn bastard, and if I didnt help him, someone else would. At least, thats the justification I gave myself. But the real reason was that, deep inside my heart, his words were still echoing.

Id ended up doing a little more work than I had intended. For one, I had to place his stupid clues around the city. It wasnt hard work, but it took some time to get them all in the proper places. Luckily for Ben, they were pretty obvious clues. There was no need to worry that his participants would be unable to find him.

Ben had set up the grave and the coffin a few days prior to Halloween. It was out in the woods just on the outskirts of town, no chance of it being disturbed. Id tried to talk him out of burying it the whole six feet down.

If something happens and I need to get you out fast, what will I do? Cant you put it closer to the surface?

Ben had just shaken his head in exasperation. You just dont get it, do you? It has to be done right. Remember what I told you.

So I shrugged and let him mess around with whatever dumbassery would get him off.

I was just beginning to wonder if I should have brought more beer this promised to be a long night when Ben showed up.

I had to restrain my laughter when I saw his getup. A cheap Dracula costume from Wal-mart had never looked so pathetic, especially when topped off with those cheap plastic fangs. Hed greased his hair back and painted on a widows peak.

I couldnt resist. Wow, seriously, dude?

He gave me a stern look. Its a comment on the commercialization of vampires and horror as we know it today. He fished around in his pocket and pulled out a walkie talkie. Here, take one. The range isnt very far, but my cell phone wont work that far underground. Youll have to stay nearby. Let me know if youre going out of range.

I shrugged and took it. Okay, but you brought your cell just in case, right?

Nah, what good will it do if it doesnt work?

This guys batshit insane, I thought. But he handed me the hundred dollars and, suddenly, it didnt seem to matter anymore.

I helped him into the coffin and shut the lid. He seemed pretty calm if it were me, I knew Id be having a panic attack. I fit the PVC pipe into the hole. It slid in perfectly snug. I climbed out of the coffin and grabbed my shovel, taking one last look at the shiny black peeking out from the dirt.

With a resigned shrug, I started to shovel in the dirt. Okay, well, he asked for this, I thought.

It took almost a full hour to get all the dirt piled in. The PVC pipe was just barely visible over the grave. I piled the earth around it to hide it as well as I could. Then, I set up the rest of the grave: a hideously gothic headstone made of Styrofoam, and cheap Wal-mart flowers. Once it was finally finished, I sat back against a tree and waited.

There was an awful lot of waiting to be done.

Three hours later, his participants still hadnt come.

Hed buzzed in on the walkie talkie a few times, asking if theyd shown up. I continually answered in the negative, wondering how long hed be willing to keep up this charade. He must be getting worried, I thought, staring at my watch. It was already 10 pm and not a soul to be seen.

Hey, Mike? Something must have happened, I dont think theyre coming. Can you get me out of here? Bens voice crackled and faded in and out of the static fuzz. I took another swig of my beer and heaved a sigh.

Of course they werent coming. They were frantically searching for the last clue. My hand crept into my pocket as I felt it folded there, the creases poking at the soft flesh of my palm.

Mike? Are you there? Did you go out of range?

I turned the walkie talkie off. I didnt need it anymore, anyway. Carefully, I picked up a handful of disturbed earth from the top of the makeshift grave. I poured it down the pipe and listened.

I heard the muffled exclamation, the series of expletives. I thought I could hear a thumping sound he must be hitting the top of the coffin. I smiled a little to myself as I poured some more dirt in through the pipe.

Bens struggles got louder and I felt a certain heat rising up in me. Oh, I knew it could be good, but I didnt know it could be good. This was incredible. This was perfect. This was .

Eventually, I grew bored of shoving the earth down into the coffin. I could hear Bens screaming and sobbing reverberating up the pipe. I yanked a handkerchief out of my back pocket and stuffed it inside. I made sure to plug it up good and tight.

It would only be a matter of time, now. Assuming he could regulate his breathing, he could possibly have a few hours. But I knew he was panicking. And that would simply serve to shorten his time.

The pounding grew weaker as I finished my beer. Once I was certain there was no saving him, I went to finish my work.

Ben was right everything really did go off without a hitch. I dont know what I was so worried about.

Id gone to find his lost sheep, the wayward participants who were scrambling in frustration for the last clue. I scolded them for making us wait so long, acted the part of the reluctant friend indulging his lunatic companion. I took them out to the grave. It was now past midnight.

They sat hushed as I gave the stupid speech that Ben had prepared for me. Everything seemed normal Id made sure to stow the rag before anyone could see it.

Friends, foes, and everyone in between. Tonight we gather to resurrect the ancient horror that has plagued mankind for centuries. Its tale, once a gruesome epic of blood and seduction, has become nothing more than commercialized fodder as society has aged. Now, the time has come for the phoenix to burn and rise again. So, too, shall the blood-soaked visage of the vampire! My voice resonated throughout the woods, and the morons in attendance clapped as they all reached for their shovels.

We dug him up in about half an hour. It was much faster work with his host of suckers. It was good that we reached the coffin quickly, because I could barely contain my excitement.

Two of the men opened the coffin and screamed. The women leaned in over the grave to peek as well, full of expectancy. There was something dreadful about the scene, to be sure.

Bens face had gone gray, sprayed over with a few specs of dirt. His hands were bloody, his fingernails pried off. Deep scratches decorated the top of the lid. The men who had opened his tomb dragged him out in a panic, unsure if this was part of the performance or not. A few moments of silent listening at his chest produced no heartbeat. The proclamation was definitive: he was dead.

They screamed. They called the police. They alternatively looked at his body and shielded themselves from its horror, enraptured yet struggling.

They ignored me.

But that was fine. It was fine because they were admiring my work, the work of the artist. Finally, I had been given this opportunity to prove my worth. Finally, I had found my sacrificial lamb. And it had been a rousing success. The heat raging in my body affirmed that much. I didnt even care if I was caught, so long as I could have this moment to hold for the rest of my life.

Ben was right. I should have known a man of principle never lies. And I owe him a debt of gratitude, for realizing the artist within me.

Art must be a little dangerous for it to be real.

Source: http://allofbeer.com/every-halloween-i-have-a-story-i-like-to-tell/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2018/03/28/every-halloween-i-have-a-story-i-like-to-tell/