#and he's an immortal vampire who has all the time in the world...

[livingformintyoongi]

Poème | Kim Taehyung

Summary: For centuries, Taehyung has roamed the world, trapped in an eternity he never truly desired. Desperation led him to accept an offer of immortality, a gift that quickly turned into his greatest curse. Once a hopeful young man dreaming of a future with the love of his life, he now wanders through time burdened by regret, forever mourning the one he lost. No amount of power, beauty, or wealth can fill the void left by you. If eternity means living without you, then what is the point of living at all? Author’s note: Hi again! I hope everyone is well ^^ I know I had said I was going to focus on GAS? but…. Tae vampire came to my head and demanded to stay until I managed to bring him to this world :) Soooo, I don't know if most of you read this but I seriously, seriously need your help for this, I really don't know how to move it forward :(( so please, if you have any ideas on how to move it forward or any scenes you'd like there to be, send me an ask or a dm, I'd really appreciate it <3 Pairing: Vampire!Taehyung x Human!Reader (female) AUs: Vampire!AU Word count: 4.6k Status: Unedited Permanent Taglist: @thunderg @minjianhyung @queenv1997 @yoongtism @lizzymizzy-blogg @superbbananananana @drpepperobsessed @themwordsblog @taekritimin123 @bluecloudss @yooglefics @tan-veee @angellekookie @madussthougths Dividers by @the-aesthetics-shop and @strangergraphics

What would you do if you were given the option to live for all eternity? If someone offered you the secret behind immortality and eternal youth, would you accept? Would you be capable of leaving everything behind just to avoid facing death?

Taehyung wished with all his heart that he had asked himself those questions before saying yes to the beautiful woman in the elegant dress who offered him a second chance at life—one without sickness or poverty, a life filled with luxuries and privileges he could never have had as a mere villager in the Victorian era. Something he could have never even dreamed of when he was still human.

When desperation consumes you and you don’t know what else to do to avoid falling into the clutches of death, you… accept the first offer placed in front of you, no matter how risky it may be. That was exactly what led Taehyung to an eternity of regret, suffering, and torment.

He had been blessed with eternal life, but what was the point of living until the end of time if he was alone? What was the use of existing for centuries, watching people be born and die as if they were nothing more than tiny toy soldiers with an expiration date set by a child who had decided it was time to discard them, believing he was too grown up to play with them anymore?

He refused to live an endless life if you weren’t in it.

But you had been gone for so, so long, and he could never forgive himself for it. He could never turn back time and reject the offer from the one who was now his creator. He would never see your smile again, hear your laughter, or smell the soft scent of flowers, of the forest, of you. If only he hadn’t left home that night, if only he had waited a few more minutes… If only you had gone with him, perhaps… Perhaps now, the two of you would be living a long life together, enjoying each other’s company until the end of time.

But that wasn’t how things happened. He left his home that night. He didn’t wait. You didn’t go with him. And now, his fate was sealed. He couldn’t die, he couldn’t be harmed, he would have eternal youth and an ethereal beauty that could make any human give him anything he asked for with just one look. He could have everything—everything except you. And that, without a doubt, was the greatest torture anyone had ever inflicted on him.

That had happened over 170 years ago, and he had spent each one of those years tormenting himself. When he was still human, he had been vibrant and full of life, a social butterfly who, even without the seductive abilities of a vampire, could charm anyone with a single smile. Now, he was nothing but the empty shell of the man he once was.

During that time, he met many like him—those with whom he managed to form something close to what he could call a "family." Jiah was his mentor, the woman who had turned him and helped him through the difficult transition from human to vampire. Chaeyoung was the second oldest, a cheerful and optimistic young woman who had been a vampire for over a thousand years. Sooah and Hoseok came next, both turned in the 15th century. Then there was him, Jiwon, and Jimin—the three of them transformed in the 19th century, all saved from the brink of death by the compassionate leader of their small group.

They had been his family until now, and though he loved them as much as he was still capable of love, his love for them would never amount to even a fraction of what he felt for you. Not even a hundred people could mend the wound in his heart, no matter how hard they tried.

He could still remember his life by your side, when his body was still warm and his heart beat in a rhythmic melody, reminding him that he was alive. The two of you met because of Taehyung’s father’s work—you were a young lady from a wealthy family, and he was the son of a tailor who barely had enough money or resources to live. Yet, you noticed him—his smile, his playful jokes, and his flirtatious charm, reserved only for you.

You weren’t supposed to be together—you both knew that. But neither of you wanted to give up, you didn’t want to lose the only real thing in your lives. So, you ran away. With no money, no place to stay, only the hope of finding a place in the world where you could live without regrets or judgment.

It was his selfishness and foolishness as a teenager that led you both to that situation.

He should have realized it was madness, that there was no way you could survive in the outside world with dreams and hopes coated in sugar and honey. This was the real world—it was cruel and ruthless, showing no mercy to anyone, no matter their age or gender.

The first few months on your own were peaceful. You traveled from town to town on horseback, living freely, loving each other with all your hearts, talking about your dreams for the future, and how exciting it would be to have a family together.

You had managed to stabilize your life—Taehyung making elegant garments for high-society ladies, and you painting beautiful portraits under a pseudonym, which he promoted and sold with his natural charm.

For the first two years, life had been peaceful. Until smallpox arrived. That was when everything fell apart. No matter where you went, how much money you had, or which doctor you saw, once you were infected, there was no escape.

You both caught it at the same time. He did everything he could to keep you both from falling into death’s hands, but it was a fatal disease—there was no cure, especially with their limited resources.

It was on a dark winter night that everything changed. You were starving, and Taehyung was determined to find something—anything—to feed you. Despite his weakened, trembling body, he walked through the dark streets of the coastal city until he reached a shop. But his body was on the verge of collapse, and he fell just a few meters away from home.

He clung to the last bit of strength he had, trying to crawl back to you if necessary—anything to avoid dying far from you. He didn’t want you to think he had abandoned you, didn’t want to make you suffer when you found out he had died in the cold, damp streets, all for the sake of bringing you something to eat. He didn’t want to die without you by his side.

That desperation was what made him accept so quickly the offer placed before him by a complete stranger. “Just one drop, and you will never feel pain again.” And he accepted. He drank whatever she gave him, clinging to the hope of surviving a few more minutes. Then, everything went black for a moment—until he opened his eyes again.

Everything felt new, as if he had been reborn and was rediscovering the world. He felt good, healthy, strong, and maybe a little thirsty—but alive. And that was all that mattered.

When the initial shock passed, he begged the woman to do the same for you, to save you just as she had saved him. She smiled kindly and let him lead her to your small home.

But she stopped before entering, giving him a look of pity and compassion. At that moment, he didn’t know that he could hear a human’s heartbeat from a distance. He didn’t know that, even before stepping inside, she already knew that you were no longer in this world, and nothing could change that—not even her blood.

Taehyung may not have died that night, but his heart… His heart shattered into a thousand pieces the moment he laid eyes on your pale, lifeless body. His body had survived death—but his soul never would.

For a long time, his life had become a series of meaningless events that only served to make his desire to die grow stronger. He knew it was foolish to feel this way when he had what many would kill for; his eternal life was a miracle that tormented him every damn day, and he knew that would never change.

It took him 138 years to get over you—if that was even the right word to use in this context. Perhaps a more accurate way to put it would be, well, trying to forget you through other people. 138 years of solitude, where his only company was six other vampires just as reserved as he was, each keeping the scars of their previous lives a secret, each too afraid to open up to the others and relive memories of a past they all wished to forget.

The first time he tried something with a girl was because of Jimin, who insisted that he should look at someone else besides your portraits—the ones he himself had painted back when he had wanted to immerse himself in your world. He went to a stupid bar, too loud and filled with drunk and high people looking for something casual. But he didn’t want something casual. He wanted something lasting. He wanted you.

Hours passed before a rather beautiful girl approached him. Her shy smile and flushed cheeks seemed endearing, but nothing inside him stirred the way it had when he first met you; her eyes weren’t like yours, her essence wasn’t like yours. He didn’t like her, but still, he forced himself to try.

That night was the first and last time he attempted to move on with someone else. There was only a kiss, a brief brush of lips that the girl gave him as a thank-you for walking her home. That night, he cried like he hadn’t in years, clawed at his lips with his nails until they bled, and his screams were so agonizing that everyone in the house had to check if he was okay, because it sounded as if someone had just run a blade of iron straight through his body.

Taehyung felt that kiss exactly like that—like someone had just plunged an iron sword into his heart and desecrated his body in every possible way.

Sooah called him dramatic. Jiwon even mocked him for making such a fuss over a simple kiss. But it was Jiah who ordered them to be quiet and stayed by his side all night, comforting him as his tears fell ceaselessly down his cheeks.

After that day, he resolutely refused to go out with anyone else for the rest of his life. He didn’t need a replacement—he was much better off living with your memory than trying to forget it.

That was exactly how he managed to slowly overcome his pain—by treasuring your memory through the works of art he created, reliving every one of his feelings for you with each brushstroke on the blank canvas, until there was no trace left of the pain he had once felt. Now, all that remained was peace and a beautiful memory that he would keep deep in his heart for the rest of eternity.

It took him 175 years to achieve that peace—175 years in which he held onto the one thing he had left of you: your last painting, the one of a young wealthy woman standing alone in the middle of a grand ballroom. The soft tones and the contrast between the setting and the woman in her simple pastel dress gave off a strange warmth. It wasn’t one of your best paintings—he knew that better than anyone. You had created true masterpieces, works that your clients back then would have died to own. But this one… this one was simple, more discreet, with much less detail—mostly because you were already unwell when you finished it. But your essence, your touch, the feeling you poured into it… all of it was still there. And that made it the most important piece you had ever created.

That was why, as the last act of love he could offer to you and your memory, he traveled to Paris to present it at the Musée d’Orsay. The meeting with the museum’s curator was far more pleasant than he had expected, and he even considered making a generous donation after they agreed to exhibit the painting.

The inner peace he felt when his eyes saw the painting hanging on those cream-colored walls, among hundreds of other paintings from important figures of his era… was something he could never put into words. For the first time, his heart felt at ease—it did not beat, it did not pump blood, he knew that. And yet, for a second, Taehyung felt as if he had come back to life.

He closed his eyes, inhaling the scent around him. Despite the years, there was still a faint trace of you in it. And though it hurt to think that he would never again hold you in his arms, never again breathe in your scent, he felt happy.

Happy for you—because finally, one of your works bore your real name, because at last, people could see the incredible talent you had. This had been your dream, and somehow, he had made it come true for you.

He wondered if there was something after death, if there was truly a paradise in the afterlife. He knew that if such a place existed, you would undoubtedly be in heaven—in a paradise unlike any other, shining like the brightest star the world had ever seen. If that place was real, were you watching him from above?

What would you think of him right now? Would you be afraid of the fact that he was no longer human? Or of the fact that, in his first years as a vampire, he had taken the lives of many?

Would you still love him from that place so far away from him?

He prayed every day to a god he wasn’t sure existed, just to hold on to the hope that the answer was yes.

"How are things going over there?" Jiwon asked through the phone.

Taehyung’s feet carried him through the museum for the sixth time that afternoon. He still wasn’t in the mood to leave, and it’s not like anyone needed him at home at the moment. He would probably head to a nearby bar, have a glass of wine, and wander around the city until the sun rose again.

"Fine, I guess," he murmured, his gaze fixed on the paintings displayed in front of him. He had seen many of them online, but seeing them in person… it was definitely something completely different. Noticing the brushstrokes, the old traces of a brush over the oil paint, the colors, the size—everything was a new experience. It was like meeting the same person a second time; the feeling and the first impression could never be the same if you only saw them through a screen.

"So expressive, Kim." Taehyung rolled his eyes at Jiwon’s mocking tone. He wasn’t in the mood to be expressive, and it’s not like he was obligated to be.

"Anyway, Jiah is pretty worried. You know how she is, especially when it comes to you."

Taehyung nodded in silence, even though he was aware she would never see the gesture. Jiah was… she was like a mother to their small family. She was the one who turned them, the one who took care of them and taught them how to maintain their composure, always patient and loving with everyone. Taehyung couldn’t recall a single time when she had ever raised her voice at any of them.

He had always known, just like the others, that she had a certain weakness for him, something he associated too much with the fact that she had witnessed him fall apart upon finding you lifeless that night. She was the one who worried about him, who paid to give you a proper funeral, who helped him get through his sleepless nights, and who showed him a completely new world. She was the mother Taehyung never had, and he was grateful every single day for everything she had done for him, despite all the trouble he had dragged her into.

"I’ll be back soon, I just… I just want to say goodbye properly."

He stopped again in front of the painting he had submitted. That small pang in his chest had returned and, although for a few seconds he regretted it, the weight lifted when he saw someone else stop in front of your artwork to take a photo. He had managed to immortalize your memory—that was all that mattered.

At last, he would no longer be the only one completely in love with your art.

There were a few seconds of silence in which neither of them seemed to know what to say. The stillness was broken by Jiwon's soft and—unusually—understanding voice.

"Are you really okay over there, alone? We’re all a bit worried about you."

Taehyung let out a soft chuckle, lowering his head to glance at his elegant brown oxford shoes. When he was still human, he had longed to wear a pair like these, and now that he could afford them, half of his wardrobe revolved around them. You would probably be just as enamored with them as he was.

"I’ll be fine, Jiwon. It’s just a few days, it’s not like I don’t know what I’m doing."

He made his way toward the museum exit, but not before giving the painting one last look. This would be the last time he saw it—this was the final farewell. He sighed, running his tongue over his dry lips.

"Besides… I need to do this alone."

"Alright, okay, I get it. It’s your healing process and all that cheesy crap you love." Jiwon let out a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. Even miles away, Taehyung could feel the worry in her voice. A part of him was touched by it. It was nice to see that, despite everything, she still cared for him.

"Just… call us if anything happens, okay? Jimin is about to lose his mind."

"Jimin is always about to lose his mind," he chuckled under his breath, politely nodding to the guards watching the entrance.

The first thing he saw upon stepping outside was the sky, painted in pastel hues, with a faint trace of stars beginning to emerge, preparing to turn it into a beautiful nocturnal canvas with the moon as its protagonist.

"I’m going to hang up. I need to go somewhere else before heading back to my hotel."

"Alright, I get it, you’re bored of me." Even without seeing her, Taehyung knew she was smiling on the other end of the line.

"See you."

And with that, the call ended, leaving him alone with his own thoughts once again.

He wished that becoming a vampire had meant his emotions—like his heart—simply stopped functioning. Life would be easier that way. Carrying the weight of his emotions would be… probably a little more bearable.

The soft sound of Taehyung’s footsteps echoed through the dark streets of Paris, faintly illuminated by the streetlights surrounding the small, quiet alley he had chosen to escape the bustling crowd—and, in turn, his own thoughts. He had stopped by the bar he had wanted to visit for so long, but after spending a couple of hours sitting at the counter, sipping a drink he could barely taste… it was dull not being able to savor it the way he once did.

He gazed up at the night sky stretching above him, noticing how the stars seemed much closer, as if they had gathered there just to shield his eyes, rather than simply existing as part of nature’s design.

Tomorrow, he would probably buy a ticket back to Korea, still debating whether to purchase a first-class seat or a regular one. Jiah had given him more than enough money to indulge in any luxury he desired, but he didn’t want to take advantage of her generosity. He had his own savings, and not just a small amount—old trinkets he once considered worthless centuries ago were now worth millions, a fortunate advantage for all of them.

A soft melody from a nearby radio pulled him from his thoughts. He hadn’t noticed the old record store beside him, still open for some reason. It had a distinctly vintage, understated charm—exactly Taehyung’s style. He studied its exterior, noting the yellow sign with red lettering perched atop the roof, reading: Le cœur de la musique.

In the display window, several vinyl records from the ’70s and ’80s were neatly arranged, among them the famous Can’t Help Falling in Love with You by Elvis Presley, the very song now enveloping the alleyway with its gentle notes and romantic lyrics.

Taehyung truly loved that song. He closed his eyes, letting the music seep into more than just his ears—letting it settle into his body as well. With graceful movements, ones that seemed almost ingrained in him, Taehyung began swaying to the melody. He had been a great dancer in his youth. When you were both just children, you had asked him to be your dance partner so you could practice. The two of you had ended up falling completely in love with the warm, intimate feeling of it. Even when your bodies had grown cold, even when death gnawed at your bones and drained your souls, neither of you had ever stopped dancing.

His memories of you returned, vivid as always; he could almost feel the soft scent of your skin against his nose, the sensation of your hair brushing against his rough fingertips, your forehead resting gently on his shoulder, your breath against his chest. It was almost as if you were still there with him, dancing in the empty streets of Paris, in front of an old record store, your hearts swaying in perfect harmony beneath the stars.

His feet continued moving across the pavement until a soft click snapped him out of his trance.

Instantly, all of his senses sharpened. He halted his movements at once, scanning his surroundings for whoever had made that sound. He knew it was a camera. And he knew it hadn’t been close—if it had been, he would have smelled the person’s blood by now, wouldn’t he?

His dark eyes flickered with a brief glint of alertness as he surveyed the alley. That’s when he finally noticed her. At the far end of the alleyway, a young woman stood frozen in place, her face still partially hidden behind the camera lens aimed directly at him.

Before he could even think, his feet carried him forward, ready to demand why she had captured such a personal moment without his permission. But then, the delicate scent of strawberries and roses reached his nose. And right after—her blood.

Sweet. Addictive. More tempting than any other scent he had encountered in his 175 years of existence.

For a fleeting moment, Taehyung swore his heart beat again, just from the sheer intoxication of it. His gums began to itch as his fangs pressed against the inside of his lip, the thirst for blood growing exponentially with every step he took. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the overwhelming urge to feed suffocating him, clouding his mind.

Until she lowered the camera.

Until he saw your eyes.

Large. Bright. Filled with life, staring at him from the end of the alley.

His heart—still lifeless, still incapable of pumping blood—felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. And though he had no need to breathe, he swore the air caught in his lungs.

Did that make sense? Of course not, but you—standing right there, smiling at him as if you hadn’t died in his arms over 170 years ago—didn’t make sense either.

And yet, there you were.

The same eyes. The same lips. Your hair was different, yes, but everything else… everything else was exactly as he remembered. Exactly the same as the day death had stolen you from him.

Was this some kind of punishment? Retribution for the countless lives he had taken in his early years as a vampire?

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable!” you blurted out the moment you noticed the man standing just a few feet away from you. A soft, warm blush quickly spread across your cheeks—not only from the embarrassment of being caught photographing a complete stranger without permission but also because that very stranger, the one now standing before you, was breathtakingly handsome. And now he was looking directly at you, so intensely that you could feel his gaze burning into your skin.

“I-It’s just that I was on my way back to my hotel, and I saw you dancing alone. You had this melancholic expression that was just so captivating from here and… I’m sorry, that’s no excuse for what I did, I’ll delete the photo right away!”

As you fumbled over your apology, nervously gripping your camera once again, Taehyung took the opportunity to examine you—every detail of your face. You had the same beauty mark beneath your left eye. The same faint scar between your index and middle fingers. Even your voice—one he remembered as if it were his own—was exactly the same.

Your clumsy way of speaking.

The pink flush on your cheeks.

Your long eyelashes.

There was no doubt in his mind. The young woman standing before him was you.

“I…” His voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “What’s your name?”

He watched as your eyes lifted to meet his. He couldn’t help but notice how your lips parted slightly at the unexpected question.

Ah.

He still remembered the way your lips moved against his—soft yet intoxicating, slow yet sensual, always keeping him on edge. He remembered the way you used to smile whenever he playfully nibbled on your lower lip.

He missed it.

He missed you.

“Oh! S-Sorry, how rude of me,” you chuckled nervously, carefully lowering your camera so that it hung freely around your neck. The strap dug slightly into your exposed skin, but it was the safest way to carry it without accidentally dropping it. “I’m Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Y/N,” he murmured, savoring every letter of your name.

He knew it. He knew it. It was impossible for you to be anyone else.

His eyes began to sting as the reality of what was happening finally settled in.

After 175 miserable years—

You had come back to him.

Looking exactly as you had the last time he saw you.

“The pleasure is mine,” he said softly, reaching out to take your hand in his own, gently, fearful that the moment his fingers brushed against your skin, you would disappear.

But you didn’t.

You were still there when his lips pressed lightly against your knuckles, inhaling your scent as discreetly as possible.

So this is how you smelled when you were full of life.

Without an illness slowly stealing you away. Your blood had the sweetest scent he had ever known, and he couldn’t help but close his eyes at the steady, rhythmic beat of your heart echoing in his ears, proof that you were alive, proof that you were here.

Taehyung had never believed in God, but now, with you standing before him— he could only describe this as a miracle.

Masterlist.

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

Autopsy of a Scene: "Ellen meets Professor Von Franz"

Context

Victorian society (early 19th century): views on sexuality, especially female; women seen as innocent and naïve (infantilization); marriage and motherhood as a woman's destiny;

Victorian medicine: Ellen's supernatural gifts (trance mediumship) medicalized by Victorian doctors as "hysteria" and "melancholy".

Ellen and Count Orlok backstory

In the prologue of “Nosferatu” (2024), we are introduced to teenage Ellen crying, and praying for "a guardian angel, a spirit of comfort, spirit of any celestial sphere... anything..." to come to her. She is 15 years old, as confirmed by composer Robin Carolan in an interview. She’s considered a “child” in the narrative at this point because the concept of “teenager” and “adolescence” didn’t exist in the 19th century: a person would go from “childhood” into “adulthood” without anything in between. The concept of “teenager” (as a phase between being an actual “child” and an “adult) was only created after World War II.

Why is Ellen crying and calling out for “anything” to come to her? What’s the context? The answer is in her first scene with Professor Von Franz (more on that later).

Ellen didn't merely "summoned" Count Orlok: she was the one who brought him back from the dead, and cursed him to be a strigoi. His corpse was dead and rotting since the late 16th century (that's why he calls her "his affliction", as in "disease"; "sickness" or "plague"). And this isn't only confirmed by Orlok twice, and by Ellen herself, when she cryptically says it to Professor Von Franz ("I wished..."), and when she reveals to Thomas: "I have brought this evil upon us."

This is the first time Orlok appears to Ellen, at her bedroom window, asking for entrance. Windows are connected to strigoi myths from Romanian folklore; where it’s said when strigoi rise from their graves for the first time, they return to those they have loved the most, because they wish to relive their lives together. The strigoi is said to appear at their loved one’s windows, asking for entrance (probably the origin of “vampires need to be invited in” lore). The strigoi usually torments them until they are dead, too (which is also what we see with Orlok and Ellen’s characters in this film). And there's a immediate recognition from Orlok's part ("You... you..."): he not only knows what Ellen is (enchantress), but who she is.

Ellen’s window in “Nosferatu” (2024) also has another reference: the “Wuthering Heights” inspiration, with the theme of “Catherine’s window”. In this novel, windows (and doors, too) are usually connected with Catherine and Heathcliff’s separation, and his inability to reach her. In “Nosferatu” (2024), we also see this with Ellen and Orlok: in the prologue, Ellen’s window is wide open (when she meets and develops a relationship with him), then it’s shut (separation) until the second and third act, when she asks him to come to her (reunion). It’s Ellen who grants or denies Orlok access to places, including to herself.  

We are probably dealing with reincarnation themes in this story as well, with Ellen possibly being Orlok's wife (since Bill Skarsgård confirmed Orlok was married and had a family), or the lover/bride he didn't get the chance to marry. Robert Eggers has confirmed he's a ancient spirit ("Orlok is an ancient noble, predating even the foundations of the Romanian Empire") so, we already dealing with reincarnation here because Orlok is a corpse from the late 16th century, with a whole boyar and vovoide backstory, the sovereign of a Transylvanian county (count). He's a Pagan worshipper of Zalmoxis, after all, he learned the secrets of immortality, life and death.

Linda Muir, the costume designer, also revealed in one interview that Orlok remembers lilacs from when he was alive; which isn't surprising since these flowers are native to the Balkans, but they are also the visual narrative device that symbolizes Ellen and Orlok's connection in this film: if Orlok associates these flowers with both his "human life" and Ellen, what is this supposed to mean? And even Ellen herself associates lilacs with Orlok, and it's a scent she is very fond of. Ellen also understands Orlok speaking Dacian (in this film it's a reconstructed language, fictional but well-researched), even thought it's an extinct language which hasn’t exist in spoken form for over a millennium and a half, and she's German. How come Ellen understands Dacian?

However, Orlok being in the "darkest pit" (O’er centuries, a loathsome beast I lay within the darkest pit") means his soul was deemed unworthy of entering Zalmoxis' kingdom after his 16th century life, or he couldn't enter it, for some reason. Instead of ascending (and preparing for his next reincarnation?), his soul appears to have been stuck in some sort of limbo, and when Ellen summoned him, his soul returned to his former body, cursing him to be a strigoi, a walking corpse who feeds off the blood of the living. "Loathsome" in Old English (which is what Orlok speaks, being from the late 16th century) is also connected with another word: "grievous" as in "grief".

“Your passion is bound to me […] I cannot be sated without you. Remember how once we were? A moment. Remember?”

The use of the term "sated" in this context can have a different meaning of "satisfied" (food and lust). In Old English, it's connected to the verb "sit", which means rest or lie. "I cannot rest without you"; which makes sense with their covenant being about them together ever-eternally in death, in the Afterlife. Orlok can’t find peace in death without Ellen's spirit by his side.

Either way, Ellen and Orlok end up developing a sexual relationship (lovers), as he symbolizes her sexual awakening in this story. As Ellen reveals to Thomas during her "possession scene": "At first it was sweet, I had never known such bliss." Then, Ellen tells him "yet it turned to torture, it would kill me" which is a reference to both her medicalization by Victorian society ("torture"), and their covenant ("it would kill me"), because she has to literally die in order to be "one with [him] ever-eternally", after all ("you are not for the living").

However, and even though Ellen end up marrying Thomas, what she and Orlok had never left her her mind/heart, as ilustrated by the lilacs around her (wedding dress, her perfume, and even her gowns): the lilacs (and Ellen's window) are the visual devices (visual storytelling) that represent the yearning between Ellen and Orlok.

Ellen's Medicalization

Victorian society was sexually repressed and Victorian doctors were obsessed with demonizing sexuality (especially female) to the point endlessness pathologies were theorized about it throughtout the 19th century, and it was during this time period the notion of “paraphilias” was created.

In the early 19th century, the ideal Victorian woman was a model of virtue, purity and modesty, and being a wife and a mother was a woman's destiny. Female sexuality was seen as a plague and a monstrosity in need of containment, which is what many literary critics see in “Dracula” by Bram Stoker (one of the main inspirations for this film), where the physical figure of the “sick woman” is one of the principal ways in which female sexuality manifests as a contagious disease, through the portrayal of Lucy Westenra and her degeneration into vampirism.

"I am disposed to recommend that she sleep in her corset. It encourages the correct posture, calms the womb, and revives circulation. And if her stirring escalates, you can always tie her to the bed. I'll increase the eter."

The Victorian characters patronize Ellen Hutter; she’s blameless because she’s “sick”, she has a “disease” she’s not able to control. Anna says she’s innocent, and a “sweet Romantic”, and believes her "hysteric fits" are caused by her husband's disappareance (because a woman's life revolved entirely around their husbands, and they didn't had "inner lives"). Thomas dismisses her premonitions as a consequence of her "melancholy", too.

Ellen is perceived as ”blameless of her malady” by the Victorian characters because Victorian women were expected to be innocent, ignorant and naïve about the world. And if a woman wasn’t innocent, she should pretend to be, which is what we see with Ellen, as she infantilizes herself before others ("Everything I say sounds so childish") and accuses Orlok of corrupting her innocence and being "a villain", even though she was the one who summoned him (and cursed him to be a strigoi), and she's also the one who grants and denies him access to places, including to herself.

The average Victorian woman wasn’t allowed to be educated nor possess knowledge outside of the domestic. And so, Ellen supernatural gifts aren't recognized by the Victorian characters, and later she will be seen as a victim at Orlok's hands, because, being a woman, she has no agency of her own.

And this medicalization is connected with the symbolism of Ellen's corset in the narrative, which was confirmed by costume designer Linda Muir in an interview with "The Art of Costume":

"One example of costume design serving the plot, as you mentioned, is Ellen’s corset. I came across a particular style called a fan-laced corset during my research, which I’ve also referred to as a “self-tying corset”—though it doesn’t actually tie itself! This type of corset can be tightened from the front, allowing the wearer to adjust it independently.For Robert, this design was ideal. When Ellen is in the throes of her supernatural connection with Orlok, the men around her—Sievers and Harding—try to impose control by tightening her corset. Because of the fan-laced design, we can see her anguish and convulsions, as well as the men’s oppressive actions, without needing to obscure her face or body by laying her prone. This moment is a perfect example of how research and storytelling can come together harmoniously in costume to enhance a scene."

The Victorian characters force Ellen to sleep with a corset, tie her to the bed and drug her with opiates, to restrain and control what they call “hysteric fits” and “epilepsies”, caused by her “melancholia” (depression) and “hysteria” (“wandering womb”, deeply connected to female sexuality), which are, in fact, her mediumship (which is what Professor Von Franz will recognize in her).

What Victorian doctors are trying to contain is Ellen's nature, her mediumship, and also her sexuality. Victorian society sees her nature, her true self, as a dangerous disease who needs to be stopped. As female sexuality in the Victorian era was seen as a plague and a monstrosity in need of containment, and "the threat of female sexuality" theme from the "Dracula" novel.

Ellen meets Professor Von Franz

Professor Von Franz agrees to examine Ellen, and once he arrives at the Harding household, it’s clear he disagrees with Dr. Sievers methods. He orders Sievers and Harding to untie Ellen, and notices she’s drugged. Sievers confirms he has been using opiates (probably Laudanum, because it was widely used during the 19th century). Ellen immediately sees he’s not like the other Victorian doctors, and is hopeful.

"Untie this child at once! […] Untie her! […] Drugged?"

Von Franz promises he’s there to help and asks Ellen about her childhood. Here, Von Franz isn’t physically examining Ellen, he’s performing a psychological analysis of her.

Important detail here: Ellen is drugged, and that's why she's speaking this like in this scene. Dr. Sievers gave her a "opiate"; which is can be any opium-based drug (Laudanum was a misture of opium and alcohol; or morphine; heroine, etc.).

"Dr. Sievers tells me you have had these spells since childhood. Would you describe them to me."

Von Franz asks Ellen about her childhood to determine if she has any subconscious trauma. " In medical terminology, "spells" are sudden and recurrent symptoms (not "magical spells").

“I know things."

Ellen confirms she has been a somnambulist ("these spells") since infancy ("I cannot always remember them. As if my spirit wanders off. Sometimes it was… it is like a dream") and, then, she speaks of her supernatural gifts: “I know things. I always knew the contents of my Christmas gifts” and she had a premonition of her mother’s death (“I knew when… that my mother would pass”).

"I was his little changeling girl."

Then she talks about her father; "Father… he would find me in our fields… within the forest… as if – I was his little changeling girl." Ellen's father called her “his little changeling girl” as in European folklore of children kidnapped by fairies, elves or demons and a substitute child being left in their place, because she enjoyed playing and being in nature. When she was supposed to be indoors (domestic sphere).

However, this started to displease him as she grew older, and Ellen being a teenager would rebel: “but as I became older it worsened… Father dispraised me for it…” As Ellen was growing into a woman, her playing in the woods was no longer acceptable for a young lady in Victorian society, so, evidently, her father wouldn’t allow it, anymore ("dispraised me for it"). As it was expected of her, Ellen should learn how to be a proper lady, and future wife to a respectable husband.

"I frightened him. My touch."

And, as she was getting older, her father stopped giving her physical affection, as well, because that would be inappropriate. "I frightened him. My touch": this indicates Ellen probably wanted to hug her father (or something of that sort), and he would recoil from her touch. And this hurt Ellen, deeply.

"Then a presence…"

She talks about when she summoned Orlok next, when she was 15 years old, without outright saying it: "I was so very alone, you see and… I wished for comfort… then a presence… and the nightmares, the epilepsies." To Thomas she will say: “I sought company, I sought tenderness, and I called out…”

Robert Eggers tells us in one interview: “She's [Ellen] an outsider. She has this understanding about the shadow side of life that is very deep, but she doesn't have language for that. She's totally misunderstood and no one can see her," he says. "Because of this gift, in her teenage years, she ends up reaching out to this demon lover, this vampire, who is the one being who can connect with that side of her. But then that other, sensual, erotic world is connected to this evil force, which only increases her shame.”

Ellen begins having what the Victorian doctors call “epilepsies” and "nightmares" when she starts to communicate with Orlok. As Von Franz will determine next, these “hysteric spells” are, in fact, “trances”: Ellen’s mediumship and her communicating with the spiritual realm (which doesn’t involve Orlok, specifically).

And as Robert Eggers tells us Ellen’s sexuality is connected with Orlok. In the Victorian era married heterosexual sex was the only socially acceptable sexual expression, and everything else (masturbation, homosexuality, prostitution, etc.) was considered deviant, and labeled as “sinful” and “evil”. In the early 19th century, women's sexuality was owned and controlled by their husbands, and was seen as a marital duty for male pleasure alone. Women were believed to have no sexual pleasure nor desire, at all, hence Ellen's shame. Being a woman, she isn't suppose to have these yearnings, nor enjoy it (this applies to Orlok because he's not her husband).

Then she talks about the episode when her father found her naked, and threatened to have her institutionalized: “At last Papa found me once laying… unclothed, I was… my body… my flesh… my… Sin! sin, he said… He would have sent me to someplace… I shan't go… I-”

"Sin! sin, he said…"

Here, Ellen uses the term "Papa" instead of "father" (as she used before), because she wants to showcase innocence and naivety: she's talking about sexual matters in the presence of men, and, like Robert Eggers tell us, she's deeply ashamed of this. The subtext here is clearly masturbation ("sin"). Especially because this will ressonate with other scene in the film:

And with what Ellen says next:

"It all ended when first I met my Thomas."

Unlike with Orlok, her sexual desire for Thomas is socially acceptable, especially because she probably wanted to marry him right away (which was common back in the day). "From our love, I became as normal." Her sexuality was integrated within marriage, as Victorian society decreed, and so, she cuts off her connection with Orlok. Which again tells the audience, Ellen does have agency over her whole deal with Orlok.

And, indeed, we do see Ellen happy with Thomas at the beginning of the film. They are newlyweds, fresh out of their honeymoon, which means sex (historically necessary to consummate marriages). However, Ellen clearly has a high sex drive, and she wants more. But Thomas has to go to work.

And later, at the Hardings household, Friedrich asks Thomas when will he and Ellen have a baby ("And when will you two newlyweds –?), and Thomas replies "When I am no longer a pauper." In a time period where contraceptives weren't the standard this means abstinence.

"Yet these visions and night wanderings have returned to you?"

"Night wanderings" is a reference to Ellen's sleepwalking (somnambulism). And Ellen says "He left on a fool's errand. I fear for him so." Because she knows he went to Orlok.

Now, we have to go back in the narrative, because Ellen has premonitions, and she knows Thomas will be sent away: "He has the position already. He’ll send him away." This "he" is Herr Knock. And she's correct, because that's what happens, and her mind goes back to Orlok, as he looks at her window.

Later, and before leaving for Transylvania, Thomas gifts Ellen, a bouquet of lilacs, which was a popular choice because it evokes feelings of young love and innocence; however, lilacs remind Ellen of Orlok; as we see her connecting these flowers with archetypal Death (Orlok), and not with her marriage to Thomas. And she has a over-the-top reaction because it's as if Thomas is confronting her with her "shame", her dirty secret. Here, Robert Eggers is reshaping a cult horror classic to his own vision, because in the 1922 “Nosferatu”, Ellen’s character also asks Thomas “why did you kill them... the lovely flowers...?”. But in the 2024 adaptation, this scene has an entirely different meaning.  

And now things are about to get dark, because we have to talk about the "maiden's token".

Before Thomas' departure, Ellen cuts a lock of her hair, and places it inside of her heart-shaped silver locket. She then gives it to her husband, apparently for good fortune on his travel. These sorts of gifts were considered a sign of love and devotion. However, during the Victorian era, it was also common to keep locks of hair from deceased loved ones in pieces of jewellery, especially lockets, which is another symbolic connection with Death (Orlok).

The scene where Ellen cuts a piece of her hair is also eerie, and she does this in front of her window (Orlok). She knows Thomas will be sent to him. And when he's is in Orlok’s castle, the count notices his “maiden token”, and asks to see it. As he opens it, and smells it, he immediately notices the scent of lilacs on Ellen’s hair. To Orlok, this is a confirmation of Ellen’s yearning for him.

“You are fortunate in your love.”

Orlok keeps the locket for himself, because he knows it’s meant for him. And this interpretation is also supported by the “Wuthering Heights” inspiration behind this story: after Catherine’s premature death, Heathcliff goes to the chapel to see her coffin. He places a strand of his hair inside of her necklace-locket, for her ghost to haunt him. It's Ellen's locket that gives Orlok access to her, again (not the "divorce papers" he tricks Thomas into signing in exchange for a sack of gold). And this is why Lily-Rose Depp says: "I don’t think she’s [Ellen] a victim at all. Because she’s kind of calling the shots the entire time.” It's the “Leptirica” (1973) inspiration (confirmed by Robert Eggers).

"Your husband is lost to you. Dream of me... Only me."

And this is also the explanation for this dialogue, when Orlok accuses Ellen of being "false", and "so you wish me to prove my enmity as well?" ("enmity" as in "hostility" and "antagonism"):

Thomas is a part of the Victorian Point of View of this story, and he's "love": Victorian love was meant to be chaste, modest and restrained. The opposite is Orlok: passion, erotism and "animalistic impulses" (sexual desire), which the sacrament of marriage was suppose to repress and contain (especially in women). And in this narrative it did, for a while. In this story, Thomas is already "doomed by the narrative" in being unable to not give Ellen what she wants and craves; which is why Ellen asks Professor Von Franz this question:

"Professor… My dreams grow darker, they sicken me. Does evil come from within us or from beyond?"

And he'll only give her the answer to this on their final scene together, in the third act of the film.

[vividxp]

If I could figure out how to create a poll I’d create one asking folks what they thought about Louis’s money situation on the show. 

I personally think he’s pretty well off on that front. But in one of my previous posts, someone in the replies raised the notion that part of the reason why Louis didn’t leave Lestat post ep 5 could be for financial reasons. So I was curious as to what other people think.

[caffeinewitchcraft]

AITA for divorcing my vampire husband because he lied to me about his human job?

I (542 vampire) and my husband (260 vampire) have been together for a little over two centuries. There’s a saying in the vampiric community that it takes a century for a tryst to become an enduring partnership and another century to become soulmates. I thought that was true and that Matthew (using his real name because fuck you, Matthew) and I would be together forever…until this week.

First, let me explain a few things to the mortals here. I don’t mean that negatively – I came here specifically to get the opinion of those with a finite lifespan. However, I want to be fair to Matthew as much as possible and some of his decisions are very immortal-minded.

Both Matthew and I are vampires who have chosen to forsake some of our powers in exchange for the ability to daywalk. We made the transition together on our 100th anniversary almost 115 years ago. It wasn’t an easy transition for me. I was very dependent on human blood and I spent the first twenty years in almost constant sleep as my body adjusted to running off of less lunar magic and more solar magic.

It really felt like I was losing everything. My body got physically weaker and my powers began to disappear one by one. It felt like every time I woke, another part of me was missing. One day I could turn into a wolf, the next I could barely turn into a vapor. I could command a legion of undying servants, and then I could barely convince the mailman he didn’t see me levitate down from the second floor.

Matthew, however, took to daywalking like a werewolf to a sheep farm. He barely seemed to feel the pain of losing his power, maybe because he was so much younger than me. Whatever the case, he was out all the time once he stabilized. He would be gone for days sometimes and when he came back it was with fantastic stories about the humans’ new inventions or the new structures being built in whatever town we were in.

I’m not saying I regret transitioning. Just that Matthew and I had very different experiences. It felt like he barely changed at all while my entire being got rewritten. Being immortal makes you comfortable in your own skin. I never doubted myself or my power after I turned 100. But becoming a daywalker made me feel like I was being born as a human again. It was humiliating and vulnerable. I have to admit there were times I resented how easily Matthew did it. I blamed him for not supporting me like I thought he should. I would daydream about draining a human in front of him, showing him what I thought of his fascination with them. I had all sorts of vile and vengeful thoughts. I’m not proud of the person I was and now I’m grateful Matthew wasn’t there to see the lows I sunk to.

Despite all my awful thoughts, I didn’t quit. I don’t know why, but I didn’t. I stuck with it and, day by day, things got easier.

After 26 years I began to stabilize. The benefits of being a daywalker slowly blossomed before me.  Now I can say that I am completely happy with my daywalker status and all the changes it’s brought.

I am the most mentally stable I have been since my Turning in 1482. It’s like I’m awake. The fits of rage that used to consume me for months at a time have completely disappeared. I don’t experience the same level of obsession I used to which has freed up a lot of my time that I used to spend stalking my victims.

However, that drastic of a change would be challenging in any relationship. Matthew and I ended up together because of my obsessive nature. Our relationship became strained when that part of me went dormant. He expected me to follow his immersion into the human world just as I had followed him in his revenge quest against his Master. He expected me to support him wholeheartedly and with everything I was. He wanted sacrifices from me that I used to not even flinch at before making. But something was just…different. We wanted different things. I wanted different things.

Matthew was obsessed with being the perfect human. He craved full immersion. He still makes it a point to get a human job every twenty years or so. Me? I’m happy to live off our investments and some mild mind control while enjoying the art and theater community the humans have evolved.

It got bad. Some years, we spent like ghosts in our own house, drifting by each other without a glance. Other years, it was like we were spies behind enemy lines. He would do whatever he could to thwart me and I would go out of my way to ridicule him. Our vitriol poisoned the earth. Matthew didn’t speak to me for a full decade when that poison killed off an entire town.

About twenty years ago, it all came to a head. We had a serious sit-down talk about our relationship. It wasn’t easy. What they say about teaching an old dog new tricks is sometimes true. Matthew wanted me to be as involved with the humans as he was. He wanted me to care about them like he did. I wanted him to travel with me like we used to and not just hop from town to neighboring town (which he did to maintain a human identity with references so he could keep working). When it became clear that we were at an impasse, I brought up the idea of separation.

Separating in the vampiric world isn’t easy. There are a lot of alliances and blood oaths to be considered. Over the two centuries we spent together, we became known as a unit to a number of supernatural entities that we maintain an uneasy truce with. Separating would mean creating new oaths and alliances with the same individuals. And there was no guarantee that those individuals would make new pacts with both of you. A LOT of vampire couples end up in blood feuds while separating. Neither of us wanted that.

There was also, of course, the emotional side of things. While a lot of immortals tend to only feel muted emotions (especially vampires as old as me), Daywalking had made both of us more sensitive than we’d been before. We were both attached to the memories we shared and neither of us could imagine life without the other. After 200 years together, it felt like Matthew was my right arm, and I his. When I brought up separation, we both felt it like we were discussing an amputation.

After about a year of talking, we finally reached an agreement. We didn’t want to separate, and so we would compromise. I wouldn’t interfere with any of Matthew’s human jobs for the 15-17 years if he could hold them without arousing suspicion. In exchange, he would take a year off to go traveling with me before finding another town for us to live in. In between my trips, he would go to plays and galas with me to enjoy human artistry at least once a month.

Maybe our deal was in his favor. At the time, it felt practical and fair. A year of traveling wouldn’t undo Matthew’s string of connections. We would still see each other frequently by going on dates that I liked. Matthew would get to stay immersed in the human world at the level he wanted, and I could stay within my comfort zone.

Which brings me to my current problem.

We are currently at the start of one of Matthew’s work cycles. He’s been everything from a fireman to a politician to a subway worker to a barista. He craves knowledge and connection to a terrifying degree. If it weren’t for how we move every 20 years and he goes without protest, I’d call it obsession.

This cycle, Matthew told me he was going to be a teacher. I was hesitant. While the humans have become more tolerant and less violent over the years, that doesn’t mean they will tolerate us near their young. Enough humans know about vampires that staking in the modern era is a real possibility. Matthew could incite an angry mob against us or, heaven forbid, get a vampire hunter on our tail. I have yet to be shot, but I hear that they have silver bullets that hurt like Hell.

When I voiced my protests, Matthew reminded me about our agreement. He said that I wouldn’t interfere with his jobs and he’d go to all the plays I liked. He even pointed out that, as a teacher, he could get us into high school plays and expositions. I was uneasy, but agreements are penultimate to immortals. I silenced my objections and let him get a job as a science teacher at a local high school.

When Michael has had jobs in the past, I’ve never really paid attention. One time he was a state senator for ten years and I never even heard him speak. I didn’t consider it worth my time to hear whatever his facsimile of a human would say. Real humanity is in the art they create, not in the parody Michael enacts.

But this one…I couldn’t ignore this one. Maybe it was because I was still uneasy about his proximity to human young or maybe I could sense his lies even at the beginning. Whatever the case, I watched him.

The first thing I noticed was the hours. He would go to work early and would often come home when it was time for us to sleep. When I asked him about it, he said that he wasn’t used to grading and that he had underestimated what it took to put a good lesson plan together. I visited some online forums and that’s apparently reasonable for first year teachers.

He would also sometimes go in on the weekends. He missed one of our dates because there was a “grading emergency” that needed his immediate attention. Something about a student’s test getting lost and then found and he needed to input their grade before the deadline which was on Saturday. Humans like silly rules like that so I didn’t even look that one up. I just reminded him that he couldn’t miss our dates again or else he was breaking our deal. He apologized and said it wouldn’t happen again.

Then about three months into his new job, the phone calls started. We have a private room in our house for when we need to talk without any visitors overhearing. Michael moved all his school supplies in there, saying that he needed a silent space to concentrate on his grading. Whenever he got a call, he would never answer it in front of me. Instead, he’d say “Sorry, work” and just go into his office.

I also noticed that he didn’t dress very professionally. Human fashion changes quickly so it didn’t register at first. A sweatshirt here and there slipped past me, and also the Gucci slides. When he started wearing baggy jeans and jerseys to work, I noticed. I may not be up to date on all the newest fashions, but I do go to classy events. I know what a slob looks like and it didn’t sit right with me that he was wearing that to school. When I asked him about it, he always had an excuse. “This is what everyone wears” and “It’s a theme day” or, bafflingly, “It’s spirit week!”

I tried to leave it alone. The reason we have stayed together for so long is because of our agreement to not interfere in each other’s lives. But between his hours, the phone calls, and his appearance, something didn’t add up.

Then, last Thursday, he missed another one of our dates. We were supposed to go to the Nutcracker together. Even though I prefer matinees (when the cast is fresh), I agreed to get us tickets for the evening show so that he wouldn’t have to leave work early. When he wasn’t there at 7pm, I called him and he didn’t answer. Then, when I called him again, his phone was switched off.

I was furious. I spend nearly two decades in these tiny towns so he can live his human fantasy and he can’t even show up for one two hour show? It was the first time since becoming a daywalker that I felt that angry. I was scared about what I might do, so I made myself go home to wait for him.

Only, he never came home that night. At 3am, he sent me a text apologizing and promising to make up our date on Saturday. But the Nutcracker was only playing until Friday and that would be too little, too late. To be honest, it already was. I texted him that and he never responded.

He never ended up coming home last weekend. I texted and called him probably a dozen times and he never responded. I got angrier and angrier as the days dragged by. Did he think I was someone to be taken lightly? Did he not realize that the fragile agreement between us was all that was keeping us from separation?

Yesterday (Monday), I couldn’t take it anymore. If he wasn’t going to come home or respond to my messages, then I would go to him. If he was so obsessed with this new job that he would ignore me for it, then I knew exactly where to find him.

I arrived at his school at 10am. I researched enough to know how to go to the office and sign myself in. I asked the office assistant which room Mr. Duetto was in.

The lovely young woman looked confused. “I’m sorry, but I can’t give that information out to anyone but family,” she said.

“I am his only family,” I said.

She clicked a few more keys and looked more confused. “His paperwork only shows his mother, Delilah Duetto.”

That’s right. His mother. But I still didn’t understand then.

“That’s me,” I said.

“You are not the mother of 17-year-old.”

“I’m his wife,” I said.

She was upset by that. I won’t bore you with every detail, but I had to alter her memories so she wouldn’t call the police. I may not look like someone who has a teenager, but I also don’t look like a teenager. I ended up having to alter her memories so she wouldn’t call human CPS on an apparent adult swearing she was married to a minor.

I went home and broke into his office. There weren’t any lesson plans. There were no graded papers. There were syllabus from different classes, homework with his name on it, and a few polaroids taped to the bottom of his desk of him at a party with children.

Human children. I don’t honestly know which is worse.

(EDIT: I know the child part is the worst part. I misspoke because of my anger. It’s not the humans’ fault that my husband is a pervert.)

I broke into his laptop and used that to check his text messages. He’s been texting like a high schooler. He’s been to parties with them, listened to their problems and even fabricated a few of his own. He’s caught in some sort of weird love triangle where a freshman girl likes him but his “best friend” likes her. He has texted both of them about it, promising his “bro” that nothing is happening and then turning around and leading this girl-child on.

Some choice quotes: I should know better than to get close with you. You and I come from very different worlds

To which she replied, lol maybe we should let our worlds collide

!!!!

I find the entire situation disgusting. Matthew is several centuries older than them and he definitely knows better. He’s literally wearing the sheep’s fleece amongst the flock. He has no business forming relationships with human children and even less pretending to be one of them. He’s not a baby. He is over two centuries old!

What is he doing flirting with a child? It’s vile and disgusting and I was set to kill him for it.

I confronted him about it when he came home last night. I told him that he was sick and dangerous and if he loved humans then he needed to stop immediately. I told him we either left town today or I would make sure he never set foot back in that school in a way he really wouldn’t like.

 He threw a huge tantrum over my invading his privacy. He shouted at me that I had broken my promise to never interfere in his job. He called me controlling and crazy.

I told him he was the crazy one for chatting up a child. He told me he wasn’t, she was just his friend. I asked him to read their texts out loud if he was being so friendly. I also pointed out that there was no way a 260-year-old vampire is a child’s friend.

He told me I was a hypocrite because I basically cradle robbed him (we’re almost 300 years apart.) He said if anyone was disgusting, it was me for taking advantage of him.

I pointed out that he wasn’t a child, he was over 60 and had already been a vampire for four decades. He argued that that was basically being a child in vampire terms.

I was so angry at that point that the house was shaking. I told him if he felt that way, then we could get divorced right then and there. That that was what I wanted to do anyway because I couldn’t be married to a pedophile.

He asked me if I was seriously going to start a blood feud over him immersing himself in human society. I said no, I’m starting a blood feud because he’s become every predatory stereotype humans have of vampires.

He called me a hypocrite again and told me he was leaving. He said not to call him unless I was ready to apologize. I told him that the next time he sees me, he’d better run before I showed him the real difference between us. And it wasn’t just 300 years.

When I calmed down, doubt started creeping in. From an immortal perspective, what he’s doing isn’t really wrong. I hate to say it, but most immortals don’t view human lives as significant. I know a few vampires who would say that divorcing because he’s playing with his food is idiotic.

Plus, there’s the agreement to consider. During our fight, Matthew pointed out that being a student is a job to humans. So therefore I didn’t have the right to interfere. A big part of me thinks that’s bullshit, but a small part of me wonders if he’s maybe right about that?

I also have to ask myself why this even bothers me. I’m the one in the relationship that is aloof from humans. I’m the one that’s always saying we are from different worlds (Yeah, he stole that from me) and for good reason. 

But over the years, I’ve become fond of humans. No immortal makes art like them. I may not remember my time as a mortal, but there are works that give me a sense of nostalgia. Sometimes I think I can remember being a child myself, standing in a field like in Monet painting, staring at the wheatstacks and waiting for the miller to come. 

The thought of Matthew playing with them makes me sick. It’s like even after all the years of him living amongst them, he thinks of them as props in his twisted play. It’s even worse that he’s doing this to children. 

I can’t help but think something went really wrong with my husband when I wasn’t looking. At the very least, I’m planning on divorcing him. But would I be the asshole if I killed him too?

 Separating from him will be violent and messy. There will likely be human casualties. But I don’t see any other way. So, I ask.

AITA for divorcing my husband for lying to me about his human job?

----

Thanks for reading! I loved answering some of the responses I got when I first posted this over on my Patreon (X)!

These collaborative story telling pieces are the highlight of my week. Next week's story is about a witch who wants to know if she should attend her high school reunion even though she's responsible for stripping two former classmates of their magic...

Please check that out here (X) if you''d like early access! Otherwise I'll see y'all next week :)

[cgsf]

Teen Wolf fanfiction recs:

Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski [Part 7]

"The Education of Mr. Stilinksi" (E) by zoemathemata | 5,746 | Derek Hale is going to hell courtesy of Stiles Stilinkski and his oral fixation.

"His Favorite Nephew" (M) by Anonanonanonana | 1,348 | Peter Hale was never good at following directions if he saw a better way. But he always liked Stiles' plans. That's what made him his favorite.

"Wake Up Dead" 🔒 (E) by bloodwrites | 12,453 | Stiles becomes a vampire at the very beginning of his relationship with Derek. Suddenly he's immortal, and everything changes.

"Red" (M) by ZainClaw | 4,371 | “If you try anything,” the alpha warns him, “I’ll rip your throat out. With my teeth.” Stiles laughs drily, tilting his head to the side. “Likewise.”

"I Will Wait At Your Door" (T) by entanglednow | 2,142 | It turns out that getting between werewolves and hunters is not a good look for him.

"Returning the Favor" (T) by aurevell | 5,164 | Stiles pays a nighttime visit to his boyfriend in secret, or so he thinks. Unfortunately, the Hale family has keener ears than he realizes.

"where we both could live" (M) by aurevell | 16,865 | Derek’s having a hard time falling asleep in his noisy new apartment. His next-door neighbor, who always seems to be talking or singing, is surprisingly helpful with that problem.

"The Bite" (M) by LeeHan | 6,601 | The first time Stiles was offered the bite, he said no, but the universe only gave him the courtesy of asking so many times. When the inevitability of the bite catches up with him, Stiles has to face his new nature. Luckily, he has Derek by his side every step of the way.

"Gonna Write a Classic" (M) by jezziejay | 6,607 | The sexploits that Stiles writes about aren’t autobiographical. There’s never been anything overtly salacious about his own sexlife, nothing that was ever going to be screenplayed for a porno, but he still has a very creative imagination to work with. Usually. Tragically, and frighteningly, his imagination has gone rogue on him. It’s broken, flatlined, missing.

"In Desperate Times" (M) by Nokomis | 3,454 | Stiles gets magic wish-granting powers, but only when he's in danger. He begins to teleport to Derek in increasingly awkward moments.

"In From The Cold" (T) by alocalband | 3,256 | Stiles stands on the doorstep of the Hale house, bouncing on the balls of his feet in an attempt to stay warm in the freezing night air, and tries to tell himself that this isn’t a bad idea. And it isn’t. It’s an absolutely horrible one.

"Begin Again" (T) by alocalband | 2,852 | Derek loses control of his full shift. This honestly wouldn't be an issue if Stiles hadn't shown up and made it one.

"Yes is a World" (M) by jezziejay | 10,207 | When the nemeton casts a protection spell over Beacon Hills, Stiles can finally go to college. Derek thinks this might be a good thing.

"Long Time No See" (T) by BarlowGirl | 3,294 | “Hi,” Stiles says when Derek opens the door. Stiles who Derek hasn’t seen in almost seven years. Stiles who his own father hasn’t seen in six years.

"but we were something (don't you think so?)" (E) by Melpomene | 9,127 | "This was a mistake," Derek declares. "Here," he tosses the car keys to Stiles, "go home. I'll take the acorn and plant it." "Deaton said it had to be us!" Stiles protests. "That's why I'm here, because -" Derek rolls his eyes. "Deaton told you that so you'd come, because he doesn't trust me." He pushes past Stiles. Once he has the stupid acorn and his phone, he'll just run to the coordinates and be done with it. Maybe after that he'll just keep running.

"Wedding Jitters" (G) by ladyblahblah | 318 | He wouldn't be Stiles if he weren't needlessly freaking out.

"Shifted" (T) by Wolfspurr | 25,074 | Of all the stupid things he’s ever done, Stiles is pretty sure this one takes the record, but it’s like a reflex that he just can’t stop. As soon as he sees the witch turn to face Derek, hand raised in Derek’s direction, he just jumps.

"inventing monsters" (T) by creationmyth | 3,840 | Stiles scoffs, disbelieving and a little mean. “Yeah? What good things do you have, Derek?” He swallows, keeping the word trapped behind his teeth because if it slips through he will not be able to catch it, he curls the chain around its neck and binds it to the tree out front to bark and bark with no one to hear. He just looks at Stiles, and Stiles looks back at him, and Derek thinks it loud enough that Stiles blinks.

"maybe we got lost in translation" (E) by creationmyth | 8,464 | The night’s spent branding each other’s names within the softest parts of their skin. Stiles has Derek’s name on his inner thighs, the base of his spine, spelled out in purple and blue along the space where his abdomen flexes under every light touch, down the tendon in his neck, above his heart. Derek has Stiles’ name in the fabric of his t-shirt, tucked within the band of his boxers, blended within the cotton and polyester, he’s got it on the back of his tongue and flashing behind his eyelids when he blinks. Stiles feels Derek in his bone marrow and knows that the remnants of himself are circling the drain as Derek runs the shower.

"ash is our purest form" (M) by creationmyth | 15,350 | In all honesty, Derek isn’t sure he wants to meet Stiles. From the word of fellow Berkeley attendees, it’s either a blessing or a curse to be acquainted with him. Stiles is both ends of two extremes, offering no middle ground and taking no prisoners. He heard from his dormmate Jackson that the guy is a total train wreck. He put it like this: All you need to know about Stilinski are the three S’s: spastic, stoner, slut.

"mosaic" (M) by creationmyth | 6,670 | “I’m starving,” he croaks, words whispered and cracking at the edges. “You were gone for a long time,” Derek replies in what sounds like agreement. Like he knows that Stiles is hungry. It feels like everyone knows.

"Dude, Werewolves" (E) by mysecretashes | 29,623 | Stiles gets partnered with Cora for a history project, and they become bros. Also, he kind of falls in love with her older brother, Derek.

"with the darkness fed" (NR) by Rena | 2,835 | It takes him several tries to dial the right number; his hands are slippery with blood (warm and sticky and bright red) and his entire body is shaking with the aftermath of puking his guts out, his breath is burning in his lungs and the phone keeps eluding his grasp.

"You Fit Me Better" (G) by Rena | 5,210 | Five times Stiles and Derek ended up wearing each others clothes on accident, and one time it's deliberate.

"The Difficult Kind" 🔒 (E) by whiskey_in_tea | 73,676 | Stiles is also trying to work on leaving shit alone, sometimes, but he can’t help himself when it occurs to him: they should take a road trip. They’ll have a bro bonding experience. Stiles can work out his weird Derek-related pseudo-crush issues once and for all, get trapped in a car with the dude and his farts and realize that all of the perfect abs and thick eyebrows and secret bleeding hearts in the world aren’t enough to make up for Derek’s particular brand of crazy.

"Bruised Like Violets" (E) by Melpomene | 236,381 | Stiles stares at the ceiling, completely flabbergasted. Derek Hale wants him. For real. This isn’t another Lydia situation, where he needs to pine and slowly try to work his way in from the edges of someone’s life. Derek likes him already. Derek is nice to him. Derek answers his questions and his texts and buys him magical things.

"Sacred Oasis" (E) by Melpomene | 4,643 | "I don't have a bathtub," Derek says, and oh now Stiles gets it. He gets all of it, actually. If he were a simpler person, he would demand that Derek admit that he's here because of safety and trust and a bunch of other girly emotions. Maybe Stiles would saucily ask "what's in it for me" and play coy.

"The Moon Gave Me Permission" (E) by Melpomene | 57,572 | “I probably shouldn’t tell you this,” Scott says, eyeing Stiles’ fries. “But Derek Hale is back in town. I saw him at the gas station the other day.” This piques Stiles’ interest. Oh yes it does. Like any good true crime aficionado, Stiles has his favourite case. His pet cold case. His hometown murder. The thing he brings up when he’s tired of small talk and just wants to get real: the Hale Family Fire and the Suicide of Katherine Argent.

"Desperately trying to figure out why the kamikaze pilots wore helmets" (M) by DaintyBoots | 1,548 | Brant was an expert at the swing, see, you had to time it just right, no hesitation. Wouldn’t want the damned creature to start healing half way through. So it had to be clean, quick. But this time, this time he supposed it was different. For one thing, it wasn’t some defecting rogue omega they caught running rampant around the forest. This one took timing, surveillance, careful planning. Alphas aren’t known to be easy to kill.

"Just Once" (T) by isthatbloodonhisshirt | 1,388 | “Did you literally just imply that while you were living in New York, you spent your weekends as a stripper?” “No,” Derek said. “No you didn’t imply it, or no you didn’t spend your weekends as a stripper?” Stiles asked. “You need to clarify here, because that wasn’t at all clear, and there is an important distinction because inquiring minds need to know. And by inquiring minds, I mean me, my mind, I need to know.”

"Low-Grade Mystical Shenanigans" (M) by wildhoneypie | 3,543 | Stiles is flushed and his shoulders are broad and he’s out of breath and he’s got that blood-and-spice rack smell of magic all over him, and over it all, there’s the smell of sex, like Stiles had been rolling around with someone just minutes ago and had run directly out of bed to the woods to do blood magic for his werewolf friends. The newness of Stiles’s body and his smells makes Derek’s brain buzz in a kind of electric stupor. He looks good.

"we do not dare to hope" (M) by xylodemon | 1,124 | Stiles helped open this door. All he can do now is wait to see what comes through it.

"i can't trust anyone or anything these days" 🔒(E) by wolfinglet | 700 | Stiles has words in his mouth. He puts them on Derek's skin. He's not the only one.

"Parked" (E) by xylodemon | 1,067 | The back of the jeep isn't really big enough for this kind of thing.

"hold my heart (it's beating for you anyway)" (M) by xylodemon | 1,667 | His name is Stiles, and it's nothing like Derek expected.

"Disposition" (E) by Tulikettu | 56,104 | Stiles has an itch. A kinky, kinda dirty itch he needs to scratch. So why not go on the Internet and look for a complete stranger to scratch it? Derek needs a partner for his rut. What a coincidence.

"Waxing" (E) by Tulikettu | 41,237 | The Hale land in Beacon Hills is being contended. Derek needs to prove he's not going anywhere. And the best way to do that, according to Deaton, is to have an heir. But they don't just grow on trees.

"The Great Grindr Incident" (E) by ColetheWolf & "The Great Grindr Follow Up" (T) by luciferswearingmetoprom | 2,347 | It's late at night & Stiles wants to find somebody on Grindr to jerk off with. Unbeknownst to him, Stiles accidentally finds himself sexting with Derek.

"Hallow's Warmth" 🔒 (M) by raisesomehale | 6,823 | Derek and Cora own the little coffee shop downtown, Stiles is the regular and talkative client that Derek may or may not be infatuated with, and the cold weather is extremely inconvenient considering it dusts Stiles' cheeks with a rosy shade of red and causes his breath to frost over in white puffs whenever he laughs.

"All I Want For Christmas, Is You" (E) by raisesomehale | 6,513 | Stiles and Derek have managed to keep up a reasonably active text-ship for the last few years (heavily due to Stiles’ undying persistence on the matter) but Derek’s recent inclination to jump around between continents paired with Stiles’ grueling school schedule has resulted in them not having been in the same room since Stiles left for Brown the summer after he graduated. The sight of him is like whiplash.

"summer tang" (M) by raisesomehale | 12,686 | It shouldn't come as a surprise to find Stiles now grown, it's been seven years after all, but it does come as a surprise to find Stiles has grown into... This. Toned and pretty thing.

"7 Minutes In Heaven" (T) by raisesomehale | 979 | “This is stupid,” Derek grumbles in lieu of a response, trying to point his body in a way that’ll keep it from brushing against Stiles' lithe front. He doesn’t succeed in the slightest. Stiles lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Our fellow party goers don’t seem to think so."

"Play It Cool" (T) by raisesomehale | 639 | “Ok, this is probably going to sound pathetic - no, it’s definitely gonna sound pathetic, but…” he nibbles on his bottom lip and leans forward more, like he’s about to tell Derek a secret. As he does, Derek gets a small whiff of clean sweat and faded laundry detergent. “I’m trying to convince my friends I’m a sex god, would you mind writing a fake number on this napkin for me real quick?”

"reGuardless" (M) by raisesomehale | 3,474 | The president had been to the point when he explained to Derek the rules of the job. Stiles was in the room while these rules were recited. The list went on and on. As did the games of chicken Stiles initiated to test Derek with these rules.

"Thrill (like white-hot wire)" (M) by raisesomehale | 4,291 | Stiles made the decision that Derek was his new best friend (and that he'll one day marry him) the day he shared his dinosaur chicken nuggets with him.

"the poets are right" (E) by endversed | 204,444 | “You need to get the fuck out of here before I call the cops.” Derek pauses a moment, his nostrils flaring just a second before his eyes flash burning red, his entire face screwing up in this expression of pure disgust that sends a shiver down Stiles’ spine. “Christ, and you’re a human? A human omega? What kind of fucking moron breaks into a werewolves’ house when they’re just a weak fucking human?”

"Oblivion for Two" (E) by publicdecency | 210,279 | “I’ll pay you to stop going around with other werewolves.” Stiles pushes Derek’s hand off of him, and Derek lets him. Stiles sits up. Derek sits up. They stare at one another. Stiles tries to laser through right to his dumb idiot fucking brain. “What did you just say?”

"i see that you've come so far [just like them old stars]" (G) by crossroadswrite | 2,304 | Everyone reaches for Derek in some form or another, but Stiles- Stiles is something different altogether because he reaches for Derek but he never makes contact.

"That's Why He Lets Him In" (E) by alisvolatpropiis | 12,446 | Some days he thinks he hears it when Stiles is miles and miles away, well beyond range for even his werewolf hearing. He thinks it might mean he’s finally going crazy after so many years of solitude, but that doesn’t stop him from liking it, even though he’d never admit it to anyone, if he had anyone to admit things to.

"breathe you in" (E) by forpony | 4,694 | How Stiles and Derek become weed buddies.

"All Taken Care Of" 🔒 (T) by elisera | 640 | “Don’t worry about it, okay? That was the first thing I got rid of once I had the pattern down.” “You what?”

"Recover, Reclaim, Retain" 🔒 (T) by elisera | 838 | Derek stumbles through the camp half-blind, head feeling like cotton and knees trembling, the spell on him making sure he can’t fight the warlock leading him by a chain and he can’t--, can’t even fucking smell--. “No, no, no!” a voice suddenly says next to Derek and there is a hand fisting in Derek’s shirt, jerking him to a stop. “This one’s mine.”

"Your Burning Sun" 🔒 (E) by elisera | 2,904 | “We gotta stop meeting like this,” Stiles says, wrapping his arms around Derek’s shoulders and tipping his hips up and forward until they meet Derek’s. A pleased sound escapes Derek; they’re both already half-hard, the scent of Stiles’ arousal filling the night air, thankfully drowning out the smell of the dumpster next to them.

"The Last Chills of Winter" (E) by LeeHan | 42,525 | “He didn’t magically charm me,” Derek shot back in his defense. “Oh, so he just regular charmed you?” Laura said with a smirk. “What? No,” Derek growled. “Was he hot?” “No! He just—“ He just had a laugh like a sun shower. Fuck.

"There'll Be A Future Down The Road" (T) by clotpolesonly | 6,885 | “Derek,” Stiles croaks. “What are you doing here?” The scowl deepens. “You break into my house after four years of nothing, collapse on my floor covered in blood, and then have the gall to ask me what I’m doing here?”

"all things together and under the earth" (E) by ahab2692 | 120,946 | In which a ragtag gang of teenagers somehow becomes Derek's pack. And in which pack somehow becomes synonymous with family. There's murder and mayhem, and a briefcase full of money, and the rebuilding of a home, and bruises and love bites, and tangled webs of private lives. And somewhere in the middle of all of this, Derek falls in love with the sheriff's son.

"Through Myself and Back Again" (G) by Green | 2,808 | If Derek hadn't reached out, Stiles probably would have burned and burned until nothing was left.

"The Light in the Woods" (M) by DiscontentedWinter | 36,507 | To honour a treaty with the people of a strange land, Derek Hale, prince of the kingdom of Triskelion, has to marry Stiles.

"Must Be Bunnies" 🔒 (T) by Jerakeen | 780 | “You will see the real animal within!” the hunter had crowed, and Stiles had pictured a bloodbath. Not… this.

"Inhuman History" (E) by Amazonia_8 | 36,776 | Stiles doesn't remember much about what happened the night he was to be introduced to the mysterious Hale family. He knows his mother is dead, but nobody can tell him why. He thinks it might have something to do with the things that happen to him, or that he can make happen, even though he's never been able to control it.

"Happy Birthday Mr. Hale" (E) by mikkimouse | 33,349 | He expected some level of chaos to greet him. He did not expect to see Stiles standing shirtless in the living room, wearing a sparkly tiara on his head and a pink tutu over his jeans, holding Mia's tea set in one hand and a plastic sword in the other.

"Come Hell or High Water" 🔒 (E) by blacktofade | 14,140 | As an alpha, Derek goes into heat, which means he has to deal with endless amounts of saliva at any given point.

"love always wakes a dragon and suddenly, flames everywhere" (E) by decideophobia | 7,124 | “Anyway,” Stiles is saying, as Derek tunes in again. “Everyone’s busy and I don’t wanna spend Valentine’s being pitied by my dad, and you have your Forever Alone thing going on, so I figured we might spend Valentine’s being alone together.”

"when you walk your body through mine" (E) by decideophobia | 1,146 | Derek’s hands are on him, following patterns across his skin only he knows. It’s maddening, touch alternating between feathery-light and firm. Stiles is so turned on he can’t think straight, can’t help the tiny, hungry, choked off noises that tumble out of his mouth.

"The Rest of Your Life" (T) by paradis | 4,168 | “Seemed like a buttercream guy,” Stiles says innocently, and grabs two forks and pours two huge glasses of milk. They eat in silence and when Stiles finishes his mouth is filled with the too-sweet taste of peanut butter icing and chocolate cake, and he’s full, but he feels good, too. He stares at Derek, who’s licking his lips after his last bite of cake. “I think I’m probably not straight,” he says suddenly. And Derek says, “I ripped down the whole top floor of the house this morning thinking about Laura.”

"Of Witches and Werewolves" (E) by alexenglish | 8,713 | “I need you to have sex with Derek Hale like yesterday,” Lydia says, slamming her bag down on the table with more force than strictly necessary, mouth a tight line of displeasure. Stiles chokes on his boxed apple juice, sputtering, limbs flailing. “Say it louder,” Stiles hisses, leaning forward so they can talk in low tones. “I don’t think they heard you in the back.”

"A Hollow Space" (E) by velveteenshadowboxer | 4,212 | That last week of summer in the year before his mother succumbs to her illness and his father turns to the drink, Stiles finally graduates from squashing insects and sticking cats’ heads on poles and directs his attention to more challenging prey.

"Give you that thing you can't even imagine" 🔒 (E) by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 11,014 | Mateless Derek thinks no omega can affect him like they do other alphas and he's about to find out he's very, very wrong.

"Happily Ever After" (G) by all-or-nothing-baby | 1,733 | He'd recognise that voice anywhere; would know it in a sea of a thousand others. He slowly turned on his heel to find its owner sitting in Derek's favourite tree.

"Ruined" 🔒 (E) by bloodwrites | 8,442 | Derek notices how the darkness inside Stiles is affecting him and decides to do something about it.

"Just hold me." (E) by bonerkiller | 1,286 | "Just hold me, you big lug," Stiles demands and Derek's arms tighten their hold around him, a pleased hum leaving him as he presses himself against Derek. Derek presses his face into Stiles's hair and a rumble rolls through his chest like something similar to a cat's purr. Stiles smiles against his husband's skin.

"Let It Burn Fast" 🔒 (E) by RurouniHime | 32,562 | “So.” Stiles rubs his thighs, snaps his fingers again restlessly and looks around. “Thoughts? Comments? Revisions you’d like to submit for consideration?” Derek weighs it. “Stiles, are you asking me to have sex with you for the good of the pack?”

"You would kill for this, just a little bit, you would" (NR) by alice9 | 38,837 | The Hales didn’t like him. He didn’t like them either. And for fifteen years he made it a point to have as little interaction with them as possible. It comes as a shock then, when Derek Hale turns up at his door one night, screaming baby in his arms, asking for help.

"A Functioning Adult’s Field Guide to Enemies With Benefits" (E) by BisexualGoblin | 31,433 | The six years Stiles was away for college, he certainly missed a lot—namely the whole best friend turned into a werewolf thing. But he didn’t think he missed enough to get replaced by a douche bag like Derek Hale. Now with Scott’s wedding looming, it’s the perfect chance for Stiles to show Derek who the real brains of the operation is. If only he could stop jumping into bed with him...

"Something With Explosions" (T) by suburbanmotel | 5,027 | Derek has become, for lack of a better word, untethered. Unmoored in time and space, flitting here and there and back again. It’s unnerving, disorienting, terrifying, educational. Apparently he missed a lot of things the first time around.

"Fine" (M) by suburbanmotel | 12,970 | Supernatural entities. Grievous bodily harm. Massive blood loss. Risking life and limb for others. Ongoing existential angst and questioning the very meaning of existence. In other words, just another ordinary day for Derek. It’s fine.

"Just What We All Need" (M) by Black_Calliope | 1,890 | Every single time, Derek lets Stiles in.

"With Blood on Your Teeth" (E) by Melpomene | 56,871 | When his dad speaks, it's in a carefully neutral voice. "You saw two wolves tonight." "One wolf," Stiles corrects. "The other was messed up. It had a wolf face, yes, but it was..." He trails off, not sure how to describe the wrongness of it. The way its muscles moved beneath its skin, rippling and bulging unnaturally. "It wasn't right."

"LUST (Love & Unresolved Sexual Tension)" (M) by theroguesgambit | 8,278 | The pack has to deal with an incubus.

"Incandescent" (M) by Hedwig221b | 7,290 | “You are trying to court our alpha,” sang Lydia. “Surely you realize that he does not reciprocate.” “He doesn’t stop it.” There was no point in lying. Paige was courting Derek. She would be a fool not to.

"Bare Hands, Scarlet Dawn" (M) by Hedwig221b | 3,484 | “With your bare hands, baby?” Derek chuckled quietly. “Damn.” And Stiles… laughed. It was short and stiff, full of disbelief and something raw under its skin. But, god, only Derek could make him laugh when his entire world was crumbling down.

"Just A Game" (M) by Hedwig221b | 1,839 | The gold on Stiles’ ring finger shined in the streetlights as he nodded. He sucked on his bloody lip — god, Stiles would never realize how much of a tease he was — and folded his arms around himself. He would wait, Derek knew it. Even if they convicted him or if it took years, Stiles would wait. He would never lie with another. He would never let anyone close.

"Birds of a Feather Fuck Together" (E) by calrissian18 | 26,144 | Laura is a crusader without a cause, Stiles dances like the whole world's betrayed him and Derek's having trouble getting both feet outside his door.

"Alpha Hale's #1 Fan" (T) by calrissian18 | 4,052 | Stiles trips a curse that makes him agree with everything Derek says. It's great. Until it isn't.

"Lace and Cologne" by Melpomene | 3,093 | Derek leans in close, then, his nose pressed against Stiles’ neck. He inhales slowly, almost like he’s savoring Stiles’ scent. “Did you want me? Like, back in Beacon Hills, did you want me?” Stiles asks, even though he knows the answer already. He just wants to hear it.

"Heliotropism" (M) by Waddiwasii | 857 | Like a flower rotating towards the light of the sun, so Stiles wants to follow Derek. But Stiles is no flower, no, he is a tree, and so he stays rooted; branches chained as he lies in wait for the sun to rise again.

"Backwoods Revival" (E) by Waddiwasii | 4,327 | Stiles had expected a lot of things when reluctantly agreeing to go on a camping trip. Bugs, for one, and maybe also one or two Kumbayas - courtesy of Scott - in front of the campfire. He had not expected his libido to make a raring comeback after months of being on hiatus, leaving him with the boners of all boners while sharing a tent with Derek freaking Hale.

"Tipping Point" (E) by Waddiwasii | 2,283 | “I knew it,” Derek mumbles. “Excuse you, Jon Snow,” Stiles replies, because no one ever taught him the appropriate response to coming in one's own pants. “You know nothing.”

"Fusion" (E) by Waddiwasii | 462 | "I give it like a minute tops." The sound of a zipper cutting through the air, a cold chill against his heated skin, fingers curling around his- "Yeah, make that thirty seconds."

"The Life Expectancy of a Fluorescent Bulb" (M) by suburbanmotel | 10,492 | “Do you need a ride?” Derek says. The light over their heads is flashing rapidly now but no one else seems to notice. “You offering?” Derek shrugs, not looking away. “Sure. You look like you need one.”

"Better Off (Un) Dead" (M) by suburbanmotel | 5,971 | The night before the day before Halloween, Stiles loses a fight with a vampire, eats an unfortunate amount of candy, and falls in love with a newly turned zombie werewolf. Surprisingly, the candy thing is the worst part of the deal.

"One life stand" (E) by Vendelin | 3,858 | Stiles is used to selling himself to make ends meet. But it's getting harder to keep those ends meeting, and there's only so much of Stiles to go around. Until a too-fancy car shows up in his neighborhood, and he meets Derek Hale.

"You make a first impression" (T) by Vendelin | 1,900 | Derek winces, as Stiles slides up next to him, and throws an arm over his shoulder. He’s wearing a pink party hat, and is holding a half-empty solo cup. “Derek,” he breathes, seemingly awestruck. “I didn’t think you’d show up!”

"Little talks" (M) by Vendelin | 5,387 | “Your favourite is here,” Danny says, smirking. “I tried to steal him away by giving him some extra attention, but he just looked uncomfortable.” Stiles snorts, though he’s secretly pleased by his regular rejecting Danny. “He always looks a bit uncomfortable. I bet he’s married with a kid and a permanent guilty conscience when he’s here.” It had been quite the surprise for Stiles to realise that he had a regular. A pretty young, hot regular, on top of that.

"Yield" 🔒 (M) by frek | 987 | It's early in the morning and Derek wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

"you know what really steams my soymilk?" (T) by HalfFizzbin | 1,082 | Derek finds a job, and Stiles finds Derek delightful.

"just once" (E) by stilinskisparkles | 20,583 | “I’m your bodyguard!” “Yeah, I know, and I get that you’re worried I am somehow living under the illusion you are Kevin Costner and I’m Whitney Houston, but Derek?” Stiles grabs his tie before Derek can stop him, pulls him close enough to murmur in his ear, “I can’t sing.”

"love & other simple things" (E) by sarcasticfishes | 5,997 | Five things Derek didn't know about Stiles, and one thing he knew better than anyone.

••••••

That's 100!

[girlkisser13]

elijah mikaelson being a father would include

• elijah’s protectiveness would skyrocket the moment he learns you’re pregnant. he’d constantly worry about your well-being, ensuring you’re safe and comfortable at all times. he has every supernatural precaution in place to protect both you and the baby.

• he becomes even more attentive, catering to your every need. he’s the type to anticipate your cravings before you even mention them.

• elijah would dive into researching everything about pregnancy, from ancient texts to modern-day advice, to ensure he’s fully prepared. he’d want to be informed about every possible scenario, just so he can be the best support system for you.

• his calm and composed nature would be a grounding force for you during the emotional highs and lows of pregnancy. elijah would always be there to soothe your worries, offering words of comfort and reassurance.

• elijah is incredibly affectionate with you and the baby, always placing gentle kisses on your belly and speaking softly to the baby. he loves feeling the baby kick and would often rest his hand on your stomach, finding peace in the connection with his unborn child.

• he is meticulous about ensuring you eat well and stay healthy. elijah even prepares meals himself, filled with all the nutrients you and the baby need. he encourages you to rest often, insisting on taking care of everything else so you can focus on your well-being.

• elijah is incredibly understanding of the emotional rollercoaster that comes with pregnancy. he listens to you patiently, whether you’re venting about something minor or sharing your deepest fears about motherhood. he always knows exactly what to say to make you feel better.

• despite the changes that come with pregnancy, elijah would go out of his way to keep the romance alive. candlelit dinners, slow dances, and thoughtful gifts would be his way of showing you that he’s still as madly in love with you as ever.

• elijah would be excited to plan for the future, discussing names, nurseries, and what kind of life he envisions for your family. he’d take great care in ensuring that your home is ready for the baby, overseeing every detail to make sure it’s perfect.

• elijah’s already intense protectiveness would amplify tenfold when your child is finally born. he’d ensure that no harm ever came near them, even if it meant going to extreme lengths to secure their safety.

• he is a gentle and caring father. he’d want to be someone his child could look up to, not just as a strong leader, but as someone who is compassionate and just.

• he’d take pride in passing down mikaelson family traditions, teaching your child about their rich history. despite the dark aspects of their lineage, elijah would focus on instilling a sense of honor and the importance of family loyalty.

• he would be very involved in your child’s education, wanting them to be well-read and knowledgeable. he’d share his vast knowledge of history, art, and culture, encouraging a love of learning and a deep appreciation for the world.

• while elijah has high expectations, he’d approach fatherhood with a gentle hand, guiding your child with patience and understanding. he’d encourage them to think for themselves and make their own decisions, always offering wisdom when needed.

• elijah would treasure the small, everyday moments with your child— reading to them before bed, watching them play, or simply holding them close. these quiet moments would be his escape from the chaos of his immortal life.

• he’d be very conscious of the example he sets, striving to be the epitome of integrity, grace, and honor. elijah would want your child to grow up seeing him not just as an original vampire, but as a man of principle and honor.

[8-0mph]

Forbidden Dream

This is all of my Adventure Time AU in chronological story order. Thanks to my friend for proof-read.

Act I: Prismo and Betty

This takes some time after the events of F&C. Prismo and Scrabby inhabit the TR(TimeRoom) and Golbetty has gotten restless with her time in space. She decides to reach out to other multiversal beings, but no one wants to associate with Golb. She finally finds someone that puts up with her ..that being the Wishmaster.

Prismo is scared of Golbetty at first, especially Scrabby since he has a little bit of history with her. He scurries off or hides behind Prismo when she is in the TR. To Scrabbys surprise, Pris and Betty hit it off and become good friends. They find they have something in common, which is their “human” past. Theyre both mortals turned to immortals.

The duo start off by drinking and making fanfics together, but then Betty proposes the idea of making these fics “real”. Prismo is hesitant at first but lately he doesn’t mind breaking the rules.

At first they visit universes that Prismo considers safe. They treat them like vacations, and a lot of these worlds do not have the typical AT characters. Theyre peaceful docile places. Prismo gets daring, telling Betty that he wants to feel alive again. The two of them agree to visit a dangerous world, the Vampire Kingdom.

Notes:

- Betty chose her physical form to look like magic Betty because she felt it would be strange to appear as she normally did in the past.

- Prismos physical form is what he looked like as a younger human. He thought it would be more fitting for the “adventure”. Also.. He hates how clothing feels on him, so the see-through garments suffice.

- Scrabby is not happy about their friendship. He feels that Prismo has gotten even lazier, foregoing his Wishmaster responsibilities and even worse, ignoring him. The scarab thought he found someone that was happy to spend time with him for the first time, But feels like he has gone back to being the “forgotten” one.

EP II: Vampire Kingdom

Once Pris and Betty teleport here, theyre immediately caught off guard by a group of vampires that whisk Prismo away and the two are separated. Betty gets surprised by a starved vampire!Simon, who at first doesnt recognize her until he gets a good look at her face.

He refuses to believe its actually Betty and rather a wizard attempting to play tricks on him. Marcy calls his name and he flys away, leaving Betty stunned.

The vampire world is an AU where Vampires take over, but Simon never died and was able to stay with Marcy. Marcy isnt evil here. Simons crown was stolen before he could make a complete transformation into IceKing, and his sanity was kept in part to Marcy turning him to save him from a group of hungry vampires. One curse was replaced with another.

Marcy was turned at a younger age by the VK, but Simon saved her by scratching at the VKs eye (his face scar). Even though the King is furious at Simon for this, he thinks it is more amusing to keep Simon alive and suffering from vampirism. Vampires are starved in this world just like “The Star” episode, but Simon proposes the idea to wrangle human (and animal) survivors and keep them on a reserve to supply the Vampires with a food source. He inevitably becomes the person in charge of the Blood farms. Keep in mind, Simon did this to save humans, otherwise they would have been hunted to extinction.

Unlike the safe worlds PrisBetty visited, this world has most of the original cast in them. Finn is a survivor of the Blood Farms, swearing to kill Simon who he believes imprisoned him in there (which.. is true). The farm is surrounded by booby traps all around the perimeter, no one can get in or out without some level of flying.

Finn always managed to get close to escaping But eventually gets caught in one of the traps. The last attempt caused him to cut his own arm off to be freed and helped by Huntress Wizard. She is one of the few wizards to help the freedom fighters, a band of humans and candy people led by Commander PB. Wizards are hated by Vampires since theyre the few beings that can overpower them. They try to stay out of each others business But huntress is an exception as she feels that the vampires are disrupting the balance of nature.

The Candy Kingdom is fortress walled with wooden spikes and garlic (I thought it would be silly Lol). PBs armor consists of wooden stakes and reminiscent of Golb who she is a follower of. She has access to the Enchiridion and sees Golb as a being that she should harness the power of if the vampires happen to overwhelm her people someday.

The end of the story would involve PrisBetty helping Simon overthrow the VK after Marcy discovers the vampires ability to “drink red” instead of blood. They team up with the help of PB and Huntress. Simon never truly reconciles with Betty as his defense mechanism is to push any feelings of his past away. But he does have a newfound respect for her and tells her to visit him again. Simon will assume the role of Vampire King and free the humans afterward.

Notes:

- Simon is the only vampire dressing in traditionally “Dracula” clothes. Because hes a nerd and thinks its fitting.

- Marcy is raised by Simon here instead of VK, so she is a lot kinder and sympathetic to the humans and candy kingdom (even if she doesnt show it for a while).

EP III: Winter Kingdom

After the Vampire world, Prismo and Betty decide their adventuring is “complete” and attempt to teleport back to the Time Room with Prismos magic. This doesnt work out. Turns out, their human forms have been draining their magic slowly, making it so that they need to find a magical item to recharge. This being the Enchiridion.

This is a totally different world than (Canon) Winter Kings as obviously he is alive here.

Ooo has been mysteriously frozen over and put into an eternal Ice Age. There is hardly any life (apart from immortal beings and those resistant to the temperatures) so hardly anyone lives on the surface. Prismo automatically assumes WK is responsible, but Betty refuses to believe Simon would be the cause of this destruction. WK has a much larger kingdom with a variety of ice people, a lot of them more human-like in appearance. It seems like he is trying to mirror a human society.

Here WK has Bettys skeleton and attempting to use the cloning machine he has in F&C to clone a “real” Betty (which is why he doesnt have an ice clone of her).

The backstory of this WK mirrors my au version of him.

Prismo and Betty are briefly separated and I wont go into too much detail on the story. Betty gets the “safe” tour of the kingdom by WK and Prismo is left to wander in search for the Enchiridion. He starts to see things that point to a darker scene (fire people fighting ice soldiers, lack of any plant life, and ice clones of people who no longer exist). At the same time, Betty is off-put by WKs controlling nature. He reveals to her that he has been in a 100-year war with the Fire Kingdom “who destroy everything” with their flames, while ice “preserves it”. Betty is shocked to see the extent of destruction the Ice Kingdom has caused to Ooo and manages to slip away to do her own investigating. She eventually ends up in the room Bettys corpse is kept, which is the only place that WK allows plant life to grow. The Enchiridion was sitting on skeleton Bettys lap.

The two of them engage in a fight where he details his plan for her and Ooo.

Prismo manages to save her at the end of it. Up until this point hes been a pacifist in the story. They use the Enchiridion to teleport home and they end up.. not there.

Notes:

- I had a bonus page where Scrabby is reacting to PrisBetty not arriving back in the Time Room. He thinks they didnt teleport back on purpose.

- This page also has WK grabbing Bettys ankle right as she teleports. I was going to have WK teleport with them so there was some kind of threat. I am not sure yet.

- The fight scene was supposed to be a lot longer with Betty having the upperhand at first, But I didnt want to draw all of it.

- Winters appearance slowly turns back into Simon when separated from the magic crown.

EP IV: Back Home

They end up in Ooo where the magic teleported them into the sky, making them fall a great distance. They are a little injured, but Betty is mostly shaken by her experience in the Winter world. She redirects this into frustration at Prismo for not teleporting them to the correct place and that they would need to search another “sucky universe”.

Prismo is frustrated and goes off on his own to find another magical object. Betty stays put in the forest. When looking up, Prismo realizes the universe they teleported to was actually the main Ooo upon seeing the floating human city. He rushes back to where Betty was sitting, telling her to go find her Simon here in Ooo, that he knew that he had the Enchiridion in his closet. Betty refuses, knowing that she already said goodbye to Simon years ago and him seeing her again will only hurt him.

Prismo is annoyed at this but walks off, and Betty wanders around the forest until she encounters one of the transport boats that take people up to the city. In her reluctance, she hitches a ride. Meanwhile Prismo reaches a graveyard on the outskirts of the woods, he hides in the bushes and sees a familiar person, Finn, walking up and leaving a bouquet of flowers at the grave.

When Betty makes it up to the city, she explores for a bit before approaching Simon (who is signing a childs book). Before she could say anything, she covers her face with her hat and speeds off. He is at first confused by this but is immediately distracted by the kid again.

Betty is in shock and retreats onto the boat leading her back down to land. She eventually catches up to Prismo, who is kneeling over Jakes grave. She attempts to comfort him, but the words fall short. He asks her if she visited Simon, but Betty says she couldnt do it. At this point Prismo feels like he wasted his time in the Time Room when he could have been spending it in his human form visiting Jake. He remained trapped in the TR unable to spend time with the mortals he built connections with. He feels that Betty is going to suffer the same regret he feels after Simon inevitably dies.

In a turn of events, Prismo places his hand on the grave and it teleports them back into the Time Room. They are amazed by this, Jakes grave acted like a magical object would have. They temporarily celebrate before Betty is impaled by an angry Scrabby.

Bettys human form is heavily injured as Prismo and the Scarab fight in several rooms. Scrabby tells him that he alerted the auditors about their misdeeds. That they will both be locked away for thousands of years or perhaps forever just like he was trapped in the Time Room.

Prismo temporarily subdues Scrabby and goes back to the main room where Betty is. This is where he turns her into a fox to keep her hidden, and promises that her memories are all stored in her body dormant in Golb (Like how Prismos form is dormant in the Time Room).

Fox!Betty wakes up in Ooo, no memories, a feeling of disconnect from her body, and hungry.

End of Act 1

Act II is all about Bettys life as a fox in Ooo. Its a lot calmer and slow burn in comparison to Act I. Upon landing in Ooo, fox!Betty encounters posters advertising Simons* sci-fi series Casper and Nova. She is convinced he is knowledgeable about space because a talking dog told her he was.

*EDIT: Someone pointed out that C&N was written by Astrid (it is implied heavily). Pretend the posters are the two of them working together, maybe Simon helping Astrid write them since she is just a kid.

She starts pestering Simon at one of his book signings and he already dislikes foxes because earlier in the week, a band of them stole his draft for an upcoming book. Betty proposes that she will find the notes and return them to him if she can have a place to stay (Even though he says no, she crashes at his place anyway).

I thought about Simon giving Betty a nickname so that she isnt just referred to as “fox”, so she is “Sunny” since she really likes when he makes sunny-side up eggs. She really likes eggs as a fox that is her quirk.

Update 1/21/24: Sunny encounters Simon after breaking into his home and snooping around for clues. Simon ambushes her in the Golb ritual room, assuming she has come to steal the Enchiridion. Sunny explains herself and claims that she can get Simons draft back from the fox thieves. They go on an “adventure”. It is revealed that fox!Betty can transform into Betty only when unconscious/sleeping. Simon wakes up next to her but assumes he is hallucinating..

Post about Simon and fox!Bettys dynamic.

I couldnt fit all images into this post as there is a 10 photo limit. I decided to link additional photos to underlined text. If you want further context, check those out. I love reading others AUs and was inspired to do my own. Any questions can be left in comment. Thanks for read..!

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - implied non/con, long term captivity, obsessive behavior, mentions of blood/death, and generalized twilight.

Aro claims to see the world best through your eyes.

You're pretty sure he only says it because he knows how much it bothers you. When he's not trying to get under your skin, he's more than happy to remind you how dull human senses are compared to his own, how fallible your weak memories can be when measured against his own photo-like recollection, how grateful you should feel to be graced with the presence of a creature so wholly superior to yourself. Even your sporadic visits to his court are meant to reinforce his dominance, as well as your awareness that not all of his ilk are gifted with his level of self-control. It's a contradiction, but not a fatal one. Vampires are a cut above humans in every way, save for when it comes to stopping themselves from tearing anything with a beating heart limb from thrashing limb.

And your sight, supposedly. He makes a ritual out of it; taking hours aside to peer into every corner of your waking mind, to have you verbally recount every minute you spend outside of his company and most that you spend with him. As a being who heeds no sense of passing time nor has need for rest, there's no reason for him to hold any kind of schedule, and yet, your private exhibition is always held at the stroke of midnight, always followed shortly by a dip into Aro's less scholarly desires.

You think he likes it - you knowing when he'll come for you, the way dread tints your every waking thought in the hours leading up to his nightly investigation. Like a butcher, brandishing his knife hours before the slaughter.

Not that you'd know it from the way he speaks. It's infuriating - how compliments your charmingly human inadequacies, how beautiful he makes out your little, nightmarish world to be. No matter how much blood there might be on his hands, no matter how many walking corpses you've seen him order to be torn apart and burnt, he treats you like something delicate, talks to you like a fellow conspirator, rather than a spoiled hostage. You're not foolish enough to think of yourself as his lover, but it wouldn't be an overstep to call yourself his pet - one who never runs out of new tricks. And, of course, a pet he holds the power to punish, should you ever prove more unruly than entertaining.

Part of you is thankful for his morbid curiosity, however degrading it may be to exist solely as an immortal vampire's favorite picture book. You've seen what happens to the things he needs, but doesn't love. You know about his wife, locked in her thoughtless tower, about his many guards, toed to him by a sense of loyalty mistaken for their own, and you're thankful that his interest in you requires an active and present mind, that he colors your days with books and theater and strolls through the streets of Volterra escorted by some hooded, distant guard. Not all of your stimulus is pleasant, and in the moments you find yourself trapped underneath a body of cold stone, the blood-red lips of the man above you still contorted into some awful, uncanny expression of delight, you certainly wish for mindlessness, but you recover quickly. You have to.

The only other option is to crumble into nothing and, as soon as he realizes you've been drained of all the things he loves you for, allow yourself to be swallowed whole.

[coraniaid]

To the extent that Buffy the Vampire Slayer is deliberately and consciously About any one thing, it is about growing up. Specifically, it is about Buffy herself growing up. Moving beyond her childhood and her teenage years and becoming an adult.

And -- not always, but very often -- the metaphor that the show keeps coming back to for growing up is death and dying. Buffy's childhood friend Ford dies, and Buffy and Giles talk about growing up while waiting by his grave ("I'd like to stop," Buffy admits, just before Ford, now a vampire, bursts out of his grave). Buffy's mother dies young -- barely over forty -- and Buffy is forced to grow up again ("Who's going to be [Mom] if I'm not?" she asks her sister Dawn, her idealized childhood self made flesh, "Who's gonna take care of us?")

Buffy herself dies twice, and climbs out of a grave in a symbolically important way three times (in Nightmares, in Bargaining and in the very literally titled Grave). Buffy's main enemies on the show, especially during the high school seasons, are vampires -- forever young immortal creatures that refuse to die, but which "she alone" has the power to kill -- and Buffy can only defeat the Master by accepting the inevitability of her own death. The act of dying at the Master's hands both makes her more powerful ("I feel strong," she says after being revived, "I feel different") and also enables her to meet other people like herself (first Kendra, then Faith). Death is her gift, you might argue.

Another thing the show regularly associates with adulthood is money, particularly for Buffy. As a child, money isn't something that Buffy herself worries about, except abstractly: in School Hard she complains about spending a large fraction of her allowance on a new cream rinse that turns out to be "neither creamy nor rinsey", and in Homecoming she'll rue that she spent "a year's allowance" on a now ruined dress, but these allowances never actually run out. There is always money for new dresses.

Money is something for Buffy's parental figures to worry about. Joyce admits to "dreaming about bills" in The Puppet Show. Her father chooses his job over her in Helpless because "his quarterly projections are unravelling ... he can't afford to take off right now". It's Joyce, rather than Buffy, who worries about how she'll pay her way through college in Choices ("I know we can make it work if your father pictures in", she says, in what in hindsight seems like hopeless optimism) and it's Joyce who will be paying the bill for all the expensive textbooks Buffy buys in The Freshman ("I hope it's a funny aneurysm," Buffy says, which probably means nothing). And [whatever you think about Giles being paid], this is why Buffy insists on Giles being restored as her Watcher in Checkpoint, "reinstated at full salary", but doesn't think to argue for any salary for herself. Buffy doesn't get paid. Even at this stage of the show, money isn't something she has to worry about.

So, after Buffy dies for the second time and is brought back into the world again -- after she is forced to live in the world as an adult, and permanently take over the role of her mother -- it's no wonder that suddenly money becomes important to her. Not just important, but real, in a way it never was before. Those bills Joyce was dreaming about in Season 1 are Buffy's bills now.

And this is also why Buffy's friends can't just bail her out. Why Willow and Tara plan to go on living in her house without paying rent. Why all the gang come to offer her (moral) support when she starts her "subsistence level employment" in Doublemeat Palace, but don't think to actually pay her for the food they order. More than that, it's why Buffy doesn't ever think to ask for rent, and why she tells Xander his burger order is "on me" before he ever admits to looking to get a free meal, why the only person to give her financial assistance is her former Watcher (and now fellow adult) Giles.

Because her friends haven't gone through everything Buffy has. "It's kind of a Slayer thing", you might say. Unlike her, they haven't died. They haven't had to claw their way back to life from out of their own grave, into a world where everything is suddenly "hard and bright and violent". They haven't been forced to grow up yet. They don't know what it's like, and (as Buffy herself says in a different context), it's important to her that "they can never know". They're still kids. They're not in hell. Money isn't real to them yet.

[apoptoses]

Armand, Haussmann, and Paris:

The thing about Paris that's not really discussed in the VC books themselves is the Haussmann project.

In 1853 Napoleon III commissioned Haussman to completely renovate Paris. The plan was to tear down all of the old structures and rebuild the city; reorganizing the streets and reshaping them to accommodate more green spaces, and replacing smaller buildings with taller apartment blocks in more uniform style.

The Paris Armand knew when he arrived as the coven master and which he came to know as the theater leader would have looked something like this:

Dark, winding streets leading off wide boulevards and short, leaning buildings.

The Haussman project would see all of these places systematically torn down, occupants removed to other areas of the city while new buildings were put in their place. In some areas workers were destroying and rebuilding things 24 hours a day.

At this time Armand would have been living at the theater on the boulevard du Temple, Paris's street of theaters:

This dagguerotype shows the boulevard in 1838. This painting, in 1862, looks much the same:

But by 1863 all but one theater on the street had been destroyed, and that was only because that theater was on the opposite side of the street shown in the painting. How and why it wasn't pulled down, I don't know- no information on it seems to exist, just like no explanation for the very small handful of other old structures that were left untouched.

That theater, the Théâtre Déjazet, still exists today. But it was established in 1770 by Comte de Artois, so while it could have been Anne's inspiration for Armand's theater it's not the 'rickety wooden rat trap' that seats 300 that Lestat describes in TVL.

Anyways, knowing all of this, I think it makes even more sense why Armand so quickly grabbed onto Louis and was ready to run away with him at any cost.

Armand, who'd been kidnapped from the monks, who'd had his palazzo torn out from under him, who'd established something of an existence under Les Innocents and was then ripped out of that world when the cemetery was destroyed. Who was watching the city he'd finally come to know get systematically torn apart. Everything that was familiar to him was being taken again.

So why not let Louis burn the theater? He arrived in Paris in 1870, just as Haussman was dismissed. But the work of destroying and rebuilding Paris was set to carry on. Chances were the Theatre de Vampires would be next, and if that were the case there's no way the crypts beneath the place would remain safe and undiscovered.

And if he'd stayed where would they go during the renovation? What would they do? What would the point be in continuing trying to run a coven he was bored of and a life he didn't care for in a new location?

Armand was going to have to begin again somewhere- better that be with Louis, out in the world, than roaming a now unfamiliar Paris. And even though he didn't burn the theater himself, allowing/instigating Louis to do it still gave him more control than letting a stranger come in at some unpredictable moment to demolish things all over again.

(And what of Lestat, what does he feel about these changes? He never could have shown Louis the Paris he knew and loved, which existed when Louis was still mortal- that Paris was largely gone)

Chances were Anne might not have known most of this at the time she wrote interview or even TVL. But I think it still makes a lot of sense and brings up a point about Armand and immortality that I don't see brought up much- that not only do vampires lose every mortal they've ever known, but with time they also see the destruction of every place they've ever known or loved.

(ps: I'm not an expert on this topic or anything, so if anyone does know why some buildings were unchanged or has any interesting historical info to add by all means please, reblog and add it on!)

[the-kr8tor]

250 Years of Longing

Pairing: Vampire! Hobie Brown x Fem! Vampire! Reader

Word count: 5.8k

Synopsis: A brief misunderstanding leads to years of heartache. You mourn 250 years of love while his heart remains to you and only you.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, vampire AU, divorced! Vampire! AU, established relationship, CW blood, talks of marriage, hurt/comfort, some fluff.

A/N: Special thanks to @pleaktale !!! This au was born in our dms lol

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Vampire Hobie Masterlist

Hobie's words are muffled in your ears as you try to hide your trembling, lovelorn body. Your head is in your hands, wide eyes downturned towards the same scruffed floors you've lived in for thirty years with him. You still remember the day you moved in, the walls were in bright yellow back then, wooden floors hidden by some gaudy shag carpet from the 70s. You still remember that decade like it was yesterday, maybe it was just yesterday, being a vampire means that time has moved differently for you. Time is merely something you gloss over, years flying by in a wink. Barely a flutter in your immortal eyes.

Even technology is moving faster and innovating quicker than you could manage to keep up. The next thing you know, you've been alive for more than 250 years.

250 years of being with him, 250 years of wearing the same identical ring, 250 years of loving him. All those 250 years are going through your mind a thousand miles per hour, your first kiss with him, your confession. Or was it him who confessed to you? Were you the one who got sick and he had to find a vampire to turn you and in turn to change him? Or was it the other way around? Memory is a fickle thing when you're older than any living human on earth. You've forgotten a lot of things, memory hazy and foggy like a dream you don't quite remember the second you wake. You wish this was just a dream, a nightmare that you'll wake up from.

“I need to try— I need to go, love.” His words wake you up from the lucid nightmare. He stands in the middle of your shared room, eyes forlorn, brows pinched together like he's in agony. “I can't stay ‘ere like this.”

If his words could kill, you'd be staked through the heart by now. 250 years of being together, practically joined at the hip. A love beyond a simple marriage on paper. And he's just standing there, breaking your long dead heart.

You look up at him through bloody tears, nails digging into your scalp as you try to hide your wails. An impossible feat. “Was it me? Did I do something?” You've faced vampire hunters together, faced horrors beyond belief to survive and continue to live with him. But you were never terrified, until now.

He immediately shakes his head, moving closer to you to take your trembling hands. The identical rings on his and your finger clinks together as he clasps your hand. “No, it's not you, love.” Kneeling down, he gazes at you through wine red eyes, bloody tears threatening to spill over his cheeks that you would always caress in your shared coffin that's hidden beneath the canopy bed you're currently languishing in.

“That's what they all say.” You utter in a small voice that he hasn't heard in decades.

Grasping your hands, he rubs his thumbs over your pulse where your heart would beat. Something he still does even though your hearts haven't beat together in sync ever since that fateful day.

“You didn't do anythin' wrong. I jus’ need to find myself, go out and see the world in my own eyes.”

You nod bitterly. “Without the burden of me.”

“That's not true, you're not a burden.” His hands reach towards your cheeks, wiping the bloody tears cascading down them like rain drops on a cold autumn day. “There are people I could help out there—”

“And I can't? Why can't you just bring me with you?” You wrench yourself away from him, walking away from the bed to give him space lest you let him see you like this. “Just say you're tired of me.” Hugging yourself, you feel his arms wrap around your middle, face tucked in the crook of your neck right where your scar sits.

“‘m not tired of you.” He says against your skin.

Your twist in his arms to face him fully, palms resting on his chest, eyes dim and scared. “Then why leave? Why do you want to leave me?” His shirt is bunched around your fists, desperate to cling to him despite his wishes. “250 years, Hobie. I've known you for more than that, been with you through all of it. I deserve to know why.” You try to reign in your anger and frustration but your fangs suddenly appearing betrays you.

“I don't want to leave you— Time, love. I jus’ need time. That's all we've got.”

You're tired, tired of asking why, tired of clinging to him like a life raft. Tired of your chest aching and feeling heavy as he looks at you with pity— was it pity? Or something else? So you let him go. Fists unfurling, palms leaving his chest as you step away from him.

“Alright.” You sniff, expression falling stiff as you straighten up. “I won't stop you.” If your love for him keeps him from doing what he loves, then you'll let him go. You can still love him from afar, even if he doesn't want you anymore.

“Love.” Hobie reaches your hand, palm sliding up to your elbows as he pulls you closer to embrace you fully. “250 years, not once did I feel I didn't love you.”

You close your eyes as you find yourself hidden atop his throat, memorizing his scent and how he holds you. Feeling how his own tears drip down on you, how his skin feels against your own. Memory is a fickle thing, you'll soon forget, but you don't want to. So you'll cling to him, even if it's just a memory of him.

“I love you, y’know that right?” He whispers to you, and only to you.

“I—” you falter. If you say it back, it feels like goodbye. And you don't want to say goodbye to the one person you have loved for centuries. “—I know, Hobie.” You could only say, saying it back means that you're never going to see him again. Saying it back means it's the end.

He could only hold onto you tighter, lips pecking the crown of your head so gently that you barely felt it in your lovelorn state.

You've got time, but it won't be spent with him. Eternity would feel empty for you now.

—

It's been six months of being alone, six months since he moved out to find his purpose. He wanted to leave partly so you could also find yourself and be yourself without his presence. 250 years of being together would do that. He doesn't know where he ends and begins when your soul and his own are tangled together for eternity. And he wants that for you too— to be your own self and not just another vampire in the cursed flock.

To be a better eternal partner for you is one of his goals, he needed to leave so he could be better, so he could be good to you for another 250 years more.

And he's willing— wishing that he gets to spend eternity with you after he's satisfied with what he has done to help people. He just hopes that you'd be home to welcome him back once he does. He's sure that you're already making good progress in finding yourself. He already misses you. A lot.

He's already aching for home and your embrace.

So much has happened in those six months, he's excited to tell you everything he has encountered. And even more excited to hear your voice again, to hold you again and sleep in the same coffin with you again and not the shoddy temporary coffin he made out of planks to rest in. He can already see your ecstatic face when he enters the abode again.

Ned has told him that he won't last a year without you. He'd know, Hobie has been friends with him for almost a hundred years now. But he refuses to let him win, even though he really wants to see you right now, or even call you on one of those phones that people seem to be addicted to. But you haven't picked up his calls, or even answered his letters. He has sent one everyday since he left, he's starting to worry now. Even the crew who urged him to go on a worldwide mission with him has placed bets on when he'll run back to you. With the earliest being tomorrow, and the longest being a year. He intends to make them lose, but by god, he misses you so damn much that he's starting to see you in his dreams. And see glimpses of you in the corner of his eyes.

He doesn't regret his decision, but a part of him thinks that you were right— that he should've brought you with him on his journey. Without you his frozen heart feels like it's out of his own body. Walking around without him, living without him. But he knows that it's for the best. It's only temporary, he keeps repeating to himself every night. He'll be with you soon.

As he writes today's letter, he smiles, hands scribbling his day away on the fragrant paper that he knows you'd love especially when it's sprayed with his own perfume.

He can't wait to see you back home.

—

You were absolutely losing it in that house. You keep seeing him everywhere. With every clatter in the halls, you run towards it in hopes that it's him making a ruckus in the kitchen. With every shadow cast on the walls, you see him walking towards you, arms outstretched to hold you. And then for a moment, he's gone, like a whiff of smoke billowing from a lit cigar.

The house that has love built within its walls seems to tilt in your vision. Weighed down by your grief. You don't know where to place your feeling of abandonment, do you place it in the kitchen where you two used to feed together? Or do you put it right next to your withdrawal, your need to be with him once again?

You choke on your own need.

So you take a page from Hobie's book and left. After just two days of him being gone, you packed your bags and headed out to nowhere. You can't stay anywhere that you have stayed with him before, you're afraid that you'll burst into bloodied tears if you even get a whiff of the same place where you two met all those centuries ago.

You haven't felt this alone since you were nineteen, well, you haven't been nineteen in a long time. You could barely remember your days before you were turned— died. It's like looking into a window of a well lit house whose occupants you once knew well but couldn't talk to anymore. In that well lit house is you and him. Just you and him, him and you.

The lamp posts are hazy in your eyes, buildings whizzing by in a blur of crimson tears. You took the midnight bus, hand never leaving the ring on your finger, and just sat there until the route ended. Then you rode a train, then a boat. And again and again until you reached a little coastal town with a name you could barely remember on good days. And with bad days, the crying comes and goes. Chest still aching, claw marks left all over the tiny cottage you brought.

A dark cloud has settled on you, but with each day passes, with each interaction from the town’s people with their good nature and good intentions, the dark cloud slowly ebbs away. The sun shines on you once again after a year and a half without him, it doesn't burn you nor scorch your skin anymore, it lights your way. The people and the soft sea breeze helped you cope through the uncertainty of being alone.

250 years of togetherness, and not one day you've felt alone, or felt like you've wasted your time with him. 250 years of memories, not one you felt like it went all down the drain. It was worth it, all the calm days to the rough one, it was all worth it.

You still wish to see him, to talk to him, to taste his saccharin ichor on your tongue; to kiss him until you're both laughing against each other's kiss bitten lips. It's a normal feeling, a neighbour once told you after you told her your story (excluding the vampirism). It's alright to miss someone who might not miss you back.

There's a hole that he left in your chest, and you find that you can't fill it in no matter how much you try to fill it with friends and good moments. But it shrinks, it gets smaller with time. It gets better with each day that passes. It has gotten better.

No longer do you feel that time has passed in a blur of colours. It has slowed for you, time. You go outdoors and breathe in the salty air, you talk to people, people you would've ignored back then. You do things you haven't done in decades. And you find that time has barely passed. You live each day, savour it, conquer it with warmth akin to his palm atop your own.

You wish him nothing but the best, and as you promised yourself on that day, you'll continue to love him from afar. The moon gazing down on you reminds you of him, everything reminds you of him. And that's alright, love does that. And it will continue to do so for the rest of eternity.

You've got nothing but time to heal and fill the void with as much light as you can.

—

Hobie's gnawed with exhaustion, but happy, incredibly happy. After two years of being away, he has helped so many lives with his ‘abilities’. He has plucked away corrupt officials with his own clawed hands, fangs coated in a sheen of rubies, eyes bright and almost glowing in its pools of crimson. He's proud of what he has accomplished, he hopes that you would be too.

Two years went by without you, he may have won the bet by a long shot but he can't stay for another day more. He needs to go home to you or he feels like he'll combust into searing flames if he doesn't get to see you and hold you within the day. He longs for your warm ichor on his tongue, and how you always laugh at his antics after all these years. He smiles at his ring, excited to see its partner in your finger once again.

So he forgoes to write you a letter in an attempt to surprise you with his return. He packs his bags, waves goodbye to his old and new found friends, going home without wasting another second. You're his bright spot amidst the dark eternity, his sun that lights the way, and he finally feels that he's worthy of you. Worthy of your time.

He knows himself better than he did when he was just nineteen and lost in the threads of life. He feels as if he traveled back in time, back when he was a human who craved to leave his mark in the world. Only this time, he accomplished the latter. Now, as he promised himself that day, he's coming back home.

He's going back home to you.

—

A letter mysteriously arrives at your doorstep. Its pitch black envelope and red wax seal with the unmistakable seal of the vampiric council sends anxiety coursing through your frozen veins.

Is it Hobie? Has something happened to him? Did he fight a council member again? Did you unintentionally and unknowingly break a rule? Or perhaps it's just a newsletter? You could only hope that it's a newsletter.

You open it immediately to calm yourself. Sharp nails ripping the black envelope open. Reading the contents, you sigh in relief at the invitation. An invitation to a soiree, the kind you and Hobie were never invited to because it's well known that you two have been together for centuries. Hell, it's in their records to begin with.

Tamping down your yearning thoughts, you skim the invitation some more. You find that it's a masquerade, ‘to make it interesting in finding your eternal partner,’ it read in its fancy gold lettering. They need to find a better writer to write their invitations, you thought.

You feel like scoffing at the idea of you dressing up and looking pretty just to find a person who may or may not leave you after they feel the urge to change. As you flip the matte paper around, your mind changes with the words ‘goody bags will be given to those who don't find a partner by the end of the day.’ You can't resist a good party favour, especially when it's from the rich vampire council who once gave away mustangs and harleys to the vampires who made it to a hundred. You might hate their guts, but you can't deny how well they can plan a good soiree.

Leaving your cottage, you don your thick coat and take out your trustee umbrella to wade through the sun illuminated town in hopes of buying a somewhat presentable gown to wear. You might've skipped the part in the invitation that says, ‘satisfaction guaranteed!’

—

Hobie stands on the porch of your shared home with a big giddy smile on his face. He notices all the plants you loved so much have wilted, grass turned into a shade of murky brown, and the porch is littered with dust and grime. He ignores the state of his home in favour of the thought of you being too busy traveling and meeting friends or trying out different hobbies. He could only hope that you're well. That you feed whenever you're hungry, he knows how much you hate hunting, especially without him. He remembers that you always make it a night, basically a date night with him that ends with a dead asshole in an alleyway with four unmistakable pin pricks on the side of their neck.

He should've planned more before he left, made sure that you'd be prepared for anything while he's gone. He'd hate to be gone when a would be vampire hunter attacks your home. His fists clenches around his suitcase, now his fear of you being staked through the heart in his own house takes hold of his entire body. You can handle yourself in a fight, but he's afraid of losing you in such a violent way when he could've been there to save you.

With fear clawing at his chest up to his throat, he unlocks the front door with a creak. Then the door stops, as if something is blocking the way.

“Love?” He calls for you in the dark foyer. The vase you always kept filled with flowers that sits on a desk near the door has completely covered in dust, roses wilted. Flowers no longer blooming in its porcelain form. His iced heart shudders in his chest. “Love, it's me, don't attack, yeah?” Chuckling nervously, he pushes the door fully despite the resistance.

The sound of papers crinkling under the pressure of the door sends him into a tizzy. His eyes narrow downwards at the piles upon piles of envelopes next to his feet. Squeezing inside, he tosses his suitcase haphazardly further into the foyer. It thumps loudly on the wooden floorboards, contents tumbling out and spilling over the floors.

His frantic eyes scan the letters, kneeling down, he finds that the letterbox flaps on the door is practically bursting with the amount of envelopes that were shoved in.

Frowning, he takes one in his trembling fingers, thumbs running along your name that he wrote himself.

“What the fuck?” He asks breathlessly into the void. He finds that every single one of them remains unopened.

Standing upright as quick as lightning, he runs around the house like a headless chicken looking for its head. He checks the living room, none, except for spiderwebs clinging on his guitar perched on the wall. His anxiety eats him from the inside out with every door he flings open. The sounds of his thundering footsteps echo inside the shared home, oil paintings of you and him are threatening to fall from its fixtures as he sprints through every door, looks through every crevice for you. And opens every cabinet and even climbs up to the attic to no avail.

There's no blood nor sign of a fight or forced entry. At least he knows that you haven't been attacked. But his mind lingers on one question, ‘where are you?’

He heaves in the middle of the bedroom where he saw you last. The shared coffin was left revealed and out in the open, he can still smell your perfume lingering in the velvet walls of the coffin, fingers running along the sides as he desperately tries to feel you through the fabric.

You're not here. You haven't been here for a long time.

“Fuck,” he balls up the fabric in his fist. There's no sign of you anywhere, not even a letter for him to read. It's unlike you to not leave a note. You always leave one, even if you're just going to the garden. “Where the fuck are you, love?”

The sound of the deep sounding doorbell startles him in place. With his quick movements, he makes it to the door within a half second. That could be you outside.

Hobie practically rips the door open with both hands as he wretches it away in hopes that it could be you. With a grin, he only sees a bat flapping away, and a dark envelope left at his doorstep.

“Fuckin' council.” Quickly grabbing the letter, he closes the door behind him. He could only hope that the letter is for him, that they're chastising him for what he has done. It can't be a letter of condolence pertaining to you, it can't be.

—

Your champagne flute filled with blood is starting to coagulate. Crimson staining the sides of the fancy glass as you slosh it absentmindedly. You stand in the corner right next to the fountain of warm blood gushing out of a mermaid's vase. At least you get to drink your fill.

The party is in full swing, the grand hall is filled with single vampires mingling with each other. Their mindless chatter falls on deaf ears as you look up at the crystal chandeliers illuminating the event. Cigar smoke rises up from the bloodied lips of vampires, turning the air more acrid than the scent of sweat and drying blood from the feeding area just below the event hall.

You're starting to think that the goody bag isn't worth it anymore, even if it has the meaning of life tucked inside it.

The sound of tinkling glass and footsteps takes your attention from the foggy ceiling. The stranger smiles at you through his domino mask. Lips smirking as he makes his way towards you with two bloody cups.

“May I join you?” He asks in a low soothing voice. His suit is in velvet blue, golden charms hanging off him like fine gold threads weaved over him. You raise a brow at him, hopefully he can see it rise above your flowery mask. “Someone as pretty as you shouldn't be spending the night alone like this.”

You scoff quietly, refraining from rolling your eyes. “How would you know that I'm pretty under this mask?” He grins wider at your comment. “For all you know, I'm hideous under this.”

Chuckling, the platinum haired man shrugs. “I just know. You give off the aura of someone gorgeous.”

You scoff light-heartedly against the rim of your glass. “I bet you've said those exact words a dozen times tonight.”

He smirks, fang poking out from his lips. “No, just this once.” Plucking your coagulated drink from your hand, he swiftly and gracefully replaces it with a new one. The drink is still warm, fresh from the veins. “I only use my skills wisely lest it be wasted.”

You stare at him with a raised brow, the corner of your lips curl into an unsure smile. “Wasted on who?” Taking a step away from the man who clearly wants his fangs in your neck, you dawdle on drinking from the glass he gave you.

Chuckling, he glances at the vampires milling about the ballroom, their fancy clothes swishing from side to side as they try their best in recreating a moment in the past.

“The…unremarkable vampires.”

“And you think I'm remarkable enough for you…?”

The stranger takes your hand without another word, leaning down to press a cold kiss against your skin. “Just call me Count Tepes.”

You blink at his name, then you feel it, a recognizable warmth flooding your frozen veins akin to a gentle summer's breeze upon your cheek. A comfortable heat pressing against your throat, a familiar presence making its way towards you in haste.

“Who's this, love? You chattin’ up my wife?” Hobie's arm is suddenly around your waist, calloused hand pressing gently atop your bodice, fingers slithering under the ribbons on your hips in a comfortable and welcomed possessive nature. “Didn't know we were lookin' for a third. If we were, I wouldn't choose this bloke.”

As you crane your neck to stare at him, your expression morphs into a combination of pain and relief. “Hobie?”

“Yeah, lovie?” He pulls you closer against him, a pearlescent mask hiding half of his face but you could recognize him by mere touch alone, by his tone, by his warmth. You could lose him in the crowd and you'd know him from the sound of his footsteps. His smirk turns into a frown at your expression, hand squeezing your side once for comfort. “You alright?”

“Is he bothering you?” The count asks with an annoyed tone. Golden eyes narrowed to slits at the punk holding you close.

“I think you're the one bein' a bother ‘ere, mate.” Hobie sneers, tugging away at your glass to chug it in one gulp without leaving his glare at the fellow vampire. He licks at his bloodied lips, fangs bared, blood dripping down from the corner of his smirk.

Tepes raises a sharp brow at you, you, whose mind is running a thousand miles per hour. With a heavy inhale, you give him your best smile. “No need to worry, I'm with him.” Hobie puffs out his chest smugly.

The Count chuckles with a shake of his head in reply. “Not again, just my luck, hm?” Taking a swig, he swallows down the thick blood. “It's either couples looking for a third, a fourth, or even a fifth. Or someone who just went to the party to inspire jealousy in their husband.” Glancing at you, he sighs and nods curtly at you before leaving without another word.

“Really, love, him?” Hobie scoffs with a grin, ringed finger tapping on his— your glass. “You could do better—”

You whirl away from him, not having the heart to fully push him away. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doin' ‘ere?” Hobie furrows his pierced brows, his identical ring still on his ring finger. The ruby glows under the chandeliers, the same shade as his immortal eyes.

You stare at him with bemused shock, “you left!”

“On a bloody soul searchin’ not leavin' you!”

“What?” You blink rapidly at his words. “You said you couldn't stay anymore—” a cough stops you in your tracks. An older vampire with the biggest beard you've ever seen taps his foot impatiently, thick brow raised in annoyance. “Sorry.” You murmur before leaving towards the closed balcony doors.

“Sorry, Santa.” Hobie waves him away, following right behind you as you struggle to open the double doors. “You have to—” he places the glass down to help you by putting his hands above your own. “— love, you have to push the bloody knob.”

His hands felt like how they used to, as if two years hadn't passed. With a click, the doors swing open. “Damnit, I had it.” You step into the cold air, trembling hands resting on the cool marble balcony.

The doors shut close as Hobie tentatively steps closer to you. “You look fit.” You scoff at him as his shoulders heave in an inhale. “I wouldn't leave you.”

“But you did.” You utter under your breath, you know he heard it above the breeze.

“Can I explain myself? I don't want to fight, love.” 250 years together and you've only fought a handful of times, and the serious ones are lesser than the nonsensical ones. With your apprehensive nod, he crosses the small distance, settling himself right next to you and at the same time giving you enough space. “I didn't break it off.” He takes off his mask, sighing heavily as he twirls his ring around his finger. “I should've explained it better.”

You finally meet with his eyes. The ring in your pocket seems to grow heavier. “You were gone for two years, Hobie.”

“For a good cause, I didn't feel like myself and I wanted to be better, not just for you but for myself.” He leans closer to you, the full moon bathing him in silver, the light caught by his piercings. “250 years together, do you think I'd leave you just like that?”

“You didn't have to be better for me. You're already great to me.” Your affectionate words echo in the breeze as his chest clenches, guilt stomping down on him. “I thought you didn't find me fascinating anymore. That you didn't need or want me anymore.” Your voice is small, almost broken. “250 years together could do that, Hobie.”

“I could never not find you fascinatin’, and I get to wake up next to everythin' I could ever need or want. You're anythin’ but.” With a brave hand, he reaches for your cheek, wiping a bloodied tear you didn't notice you've let out. “I thought you got hurt, or worse.”

He feels a tear run down his cheek. Gently taking your mask off of your face, he could finally see you in all your glory. He gazes into your shining eyes— he may not be able to see himself in the mirror, but he doesn't need to when your eyes are enough to reflect his own blissful face.

You lean further into his hold, palms reaching towards his chest like you used to. “D–did you do it? Did you get to do what you wanted to? Are you happy?”

Hobie nods before placing his forehead against yours to savour your close presence. “I did, all that and more. And I've always been happy with you.”

Smiling, you pat his cheek affectionatly. “Then I'm proud of you.” Leaning away, you wipe away a stray tear from his chiseled cheek. “So it was a misunderstanding? You didn't actually break off our…marriage?”

He smiles softly, knuckles gently running along your jaw. “Why’d you hesitate, hm? And yeah, I should've explained myself better. ‘m sorry.”

You thump your fists on his leather clad chest as he chuckles. “You could've saved me from a lot of fucking tears, Hobie.” You can now admire him fully, his outfit is a contrast to the other party goers with their silks and chiffon, but he makes it look good— he always looks this good.

Taking your wrists, placing it atop his still heart, he tilts his head with an affectionate smile. “You didn't answer my question. And you took off your ring.” He raises a questioning brow, fingers bracelets around your wrist as he moves your empty ring finger around. “Were you honestly tryin' to get with that wanker?”

“No,” you say immediately, “And if I remember correctly, we never technically married. I'm only here because they had nice things in the party favors. And I thought, ‘why not? The worst that could happen is that I get a bloody ipad instead of a mustang like I hoped.’” Your lips wobble as you tamp down a sob, eyes getting blurry. “I couldn't replace you just like that. It would take me a thousand years to get over you, you idiot.”

Hobie laughs wholeheartedly, a sound you dearly missed. He pauses then inhales, eyes warmly staring at you through the haze of affection. “Fuck, I missed you so goddamn much.” With a quick pull, he embraces you firmly with his face hidden on the crook of your neck, lips brushing along your throat. “You're right, ‘m an idiot for not explainin’ better, and for not takin’ you with me. ‘m sorry.”

You wrap your arms around him tighter, nose nuzzling his temple. “Could've just told me you were having a mid-life crisis.”

He laughs against your skin. “I sent you letters everyday, you didn't reply.” Subtly, he dances with you from side to side under the moonlight and the music of crickets chirping. “I went home and you weren't there. If I wasn't already dead, you would've given me a heart attack.”

“I couldn't stay there alone.” You hold him impossibly closer. “You weren't there.”

Hobie imagines you in that big house all alone waiting for him. “Fuck, ‘m sorry.”

“I know, I forgive you. Just bring me next time, okay?” He nods with a grin. You lean away, cradling his face in your careful hold, thumbs rubbing along his cheeks. “I'll read your letters, all of them once we get back home.”

“Why read ‘em when I can tell you?” He grins, temptation pushing him to meet with your waiting lips. “‘sides, ‘m a better storyteller than a writer.”

You chuckle softly as he pecks you once, twice then leaning away only to move back with another gentle kiss. “I've got stories to tell too.” You utter against his soft lips.

“Yeah?” He smiles proudly at you. “Can you tell me all about them while your lips are on mine?”

You beam at him. “I can, I have telepathy for a reason, Hobs.”

“Thank fuck for telepathy.” He says as he kisses you fervently just like he always had in 250 years of being together. “I should've married you, lovie.” His words are uttered in between kisses.

“We have time.” You whisper against his smiling lips whilst he picks your pockets and slips your ring in your finger once again.

As you kiss him, you can see that he's already planning the event in his giddy mind. You tell him the three words you've been aching to say back in his head. And in turn, he takes you further into his arms as dark wispy smoke envelopes you both in an embrace. In a blink, you're back home with him. The house feels warm again.

[adventures-in-mangaland]

Even More Dead Boy Detectives Fic Recs

I've discovered some amazing new authors since my last post! And writers I've already recced have published more great stories So here's another fic rec post!

Who? You mean your teammate in the Codependency World Cup? (series) by RoseGanymede95

I couldn't chose! They're all great! Basically a series of Edwin and Charles through the years and on cases pre-show. It scratches that adjusting-to-being-dead/newly-escaped-from-Hell itch and the authors writing is magic! It also fleshes out a really interesting conflict in the payneland dynamic: Charles' drive to protect Edwin at all costs clashing with Edwin's guilt over putting Charles at risk/depriving him of some ideal afterlife. Parts one and four also introduces Constantine/Johanna and part three revolves around an absolutely gut-wrenching temporary break-up. 😢

In Hell I'll Be in Good Company by laylabinx

Charles rescuing Edwin from Hell does not go smoothly. Just. Bucketloads of Trauma for both of them. And for you, the Reader. It's so good though!

your fangs in my neck (like an anchor like a vow) by shadowquill17

Vampire Edwin AU! It's great because it combines the (homo)eroticism of vampiric feeding with Charles' whole bisexual crisis and post-confession Edwin worrying about making Charles uncomfortable. Also Charles is some kind of demigod/immortal agent of divine vengeance which is an AMAZING detail and I desperately want to see some fanart!

The same author's ongoing story to the pain is also excellent though very angsty (cw temporary character death). I'm anxiously waiting for an update!

To Memory Now I Can't Recall by engineering_madonna

This is an amnesia fic and the most recent in an established relationship series. The first two installments feature the boys getting together and navigating their new relationship, so pulling the old 'character A forgets their whole romantic relationship with character B' trope hits especially hard! The whole series is lovely, but I am WEAK for temporary-amnesia.

Lemonade & Sunrises by paraph

A Quiet Place AU! The boys are alive, but they're the only ones. Very bleak but in a way that makes me want more!

1999 au (series) by websters_lieb

The boys figure their shit out in the 90s. Also, Edwin gets to read Maurice and queer theory. The cases in both stories are compelling and the author's writing and characterisation of the boys are excellent.

I also recommend offer me that deathless death which is about the boys' first meeting, Charles' funeral and the birth of the agency.

if I could reach the stars (i'd give them all to you) by ObsessedWithFandom

Charles falls first, Edwin falls harder. This is an AU of the author's excellent Charles' bisexual awakening fic, which I also highly recommend. It has lovely OCs and Charles having a sweet little friendship/romance with the boy he saved in canon, which actually makes his death a whole lot more tragic.

Came up from that lake of fire by ghostinthelibrary

Charles and Edwin get caught escaping Hell and promise to capture a demon-eating ghost called The Deathless in exchange for their freedom. With the added twist that they get to be alive again! An exciting case, high stakes and all the alive-again culture shocks and emotional/interpersonal drama you could ask for.

gig officially gigged by laiqualaurelote

Band AU! It shouldn't work but it does. Which might also be an in-universe review for the band tbh. Idk, I loved Edwin's massive obscure musical instruments and Charles being his unpaid roadie. Peak Found Family Feels.

No Rehearsing It, No Reversing It by DontOffendTheBees

Charles overthinks being in love with Edwin, my beloved. This time with increasingly flimsy pretexts for why they NEED to kiss. Just perfect Idiots in Love, no notes.

The Case of David Bowie's Made up Sexuality by williamvapespeare

The agency attempt to help a living lesbian couple deal with a haunting. Meanwhile, Charles struggles through his bisexual (re)awakening. With bonus past (living) Charles no-homo-ing himself to the nth degree. Pure of heart, dumb of ass, indeed.

The lamps are going out by CasiHuman

Vengeful Spirit Edwin AU! Has some interesting ghost lore and Edwin being convinced his touch is painful to Charles (love that trope!). Also features some of the author's adorable/hilarious fanart at the end.

just frame the halves (and call them brothers) by Anonymous

Crystal stumbles upon the ghost of Edwin's older brother, who hires the agency to free him and his platoon from the battleground they've been haunting. Case fic with interesting details about Edwin's family life and an awkward as hell family reunion.

the case of the very long ferry ride by obsceme

Sex pollen but with skin hunger, so it's more touching turned making out and hand jobs in a bathroom. Interesting use of ghost lore and it's cute and well written.

Form 239, Schedule L by sanctuary_for_all

Charles Rowland's Love Language is Acts of Service: The Fic. So many feels! Plus Afterlife worldbuilding and some quality Night Nurse rep.

don't go sharing your devotions (lay all your love on me) by Hephanna

The boys and Crystal accidentally summon an alternate universe version of Charles. He's very... handsy. Charles being jealous of himself is objectively hilarious and it looks like it could be heading towards throuple territory. Possibly even a foursome, if alternate Edwin figures out parallel universe travel. Which he probably will.

Still a Better Lovestory by Vamillepudding

Hanahaki disease! Charles is on the case but Edwin's being weirdly uncooperative about his own curse. I loved the worldbuilding (there's a whole sisterhood of washerwomen!) and the angst, plus the writing is excellent.

The author has also written Eternal Sunshine, in which Edwin is cursed to feel no love of any kind. It makes for an interesting character study, contrasting cursed Edwin, his public reserve and his actual personality.

[yan-lorkai]

This idea has been on my mind for a while and was wondering if I could request a Yandere! Lilia Vanrouge x Male! Vampire! Reader platonic headcanons

I’ll try and shorten this as best as I can, but long story short, M! Reader was turned into a vampire when he was 13 years old. He had a rare illness that shortened his lifespan. His parents were desperate to keep their baby alive. Fast forward to NRC present day, M! Reader is approximately 16,000 years old. Due to his young transformation, he’s stayed in the body of a 13-year-old boy. His classmates assume he’s a child prodigy. He casually mentions his real age during Halloween. Lilia lowkey brain freezes since he’s literally been babying M! Reader since he was first sorted into Diasomnia, and now he’s just finding out that he is in fact the baby in this situation because his 700 years of experience are nothing compared to 16,000 years.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ a/n: This was so funny, help-- imagine you dote and baby talk with someone and then you found out that this person is older than you. Tbh this happens with me all the time 🤡🤡 y'all I'm 20 but I have the same face since I was like 12. Anyway, I hope u like darling!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ You must think this is funny. But you can see Lilia going through the 5 stages of grief in the short span of 10 seconds. First of all, he is in disbelief. Completely, utterly disbelief as he stares at you. As a general, he knows you're not lying and this leaves him with conflicted emotions he has to deal with before approaching you again (which happens quite quickly to be honest, Lilia is old enough to know that the age difference doesn't matter all that much. You're immortal, he is immortal. So what?)

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He understands the struggle you may go through, looking this young but being this older, alone while you wander the world without ever stopping. As another immortal being who fought and saw death, Lilia can relate with your problems more than anyone, even if he is so much younger than you, he is still too paternal with you, it's the fae instinct.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Which isn't to say that you don't tease him for being small, cute and younger than you are. Yet, for the first time in a long time, you feel you can simply relax and stop being so on guard. Someone else can see you and it's offering you a shoulder to lean on, so you take that offer; even more because it's hard to be alive this long and being so lonely. You sometimes miss your family, though you can't remember at all their faces or voices, or even the time you spent with them. It was so long ago.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Both of you develop a codependent relationship where you fall into the role of a dutiful son and him into the doting father - it's so strange at first because you can't remember how a dad acts nor what they do with their sons and the time passing doesnt help at all. Though age doesn't matter. What matters is that both of you are healing and learning with one another slowly.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ If you're ever feeling hungry, he lets you drink from him or from a cup if you're uncomfortable. Though, he can help you hunt for blood if needed. He knows some students who were talking badly about you that nobody would miss.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Overall, he will adopt you and introduce you to his other children, hoping that all of you get along, even though your secret is very much safe with him if you don't want him to spoil it to them or to anyone else.

[just-some-user-hunny]

Vampire hunter D

‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ . 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒊𝒎 𝒂 𝒅𝒉𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆. 𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒕 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 ✧ vampire hunter D x reader

. ‧ ₊ ⊹˚D is a lonesome creature. His existence a barren sand-timer. Nothing lost and nothing gained. He's not keen to capture the eyes of humans- his years of existence proving to him over and over again that attachments are sentimental and brief. It's not worth the ache. However he finds himself contemplating whenever his eyes find your figure.

. ‧ ₊ ⊹˚He's very quiet and contemplative. He seems to be in his head a lot, often caught in a spiral of overthinking. His company is often silent- always playing the part of the listener, and not the talker. It's a role he's always found himself slipping into with ease- and with you, it's more than natural. Hes guilty of admitting he likes the sound of your voice. He'd listen to it for eternity if he could. You never know though, often missing the softness in his eyes and how gently he treats you.

. ‧ ₊ ⊹˚D is a rather nonchalant and solemn individual. He keeps his head lowered and eyes ahead focused on his job, and has very strong opinions and ethics around vampires and humans (including himself). His loathe and distrust for the immortal creatures always keep him on edge- and trapped within himself when it comes to you. He couldn't turn you. That would be out of the question- he'd have you for eternity, yes, but at such a cost? There is no way he'd allow that. He'd never want you to bear the suffering of becoming a no-life creature. Always cold...always hungry. The least he can do is ensure you live a long happy life where you are loved and safe- even if it means the cost of becoming alone again, it's something he'd risk.

. ‧ ₊ ⊹˚Very very lonely. Keeps the world at an arms length, he seldom sticks around because he's not keen on making attachments to people. He keeps himself lonely to save himself from the inevitable pain of being left behind. So when he comes across something precious like you who manages to stir these troublesome emotions within him, it's an internal battle for him. The parasite is always the one to air out his dirty laundry- you can't stand being in love with her, can't you D? Oh this is tearing you up inside huh pretty boy? Can't look away, but can't bear to watch either. Tut tut.

.‧ ₊ ⊹˚Pushes and overworks himself a lot. (His odd parasite thingy is always scolding him to take care of his body better). You'll probably find yourself reminding him to take a break and rest now and then, just to save him from overexerting himself again and collapsing. The first time you saw him smile was when you stood upon your toes to shield him beneath your parasol during a walk together. It was faint- subtle and gentle, but it was there. He's secretly very thankful that you are so caring towards him. He doesn't feel so deserving.

. ‧ ₊ ⊹˚ He's very respectful and gentle with you. It's rather unbelievable to see such a mysterious and ethereal creature that seemed to teeter upon the blade's edge of beauty and horror be so careful with you. Opening doors, shielding you from the rain with his cape, holding your things for you if you were to ever ask, walking you home to ensure your safety- even carry you upon his back or lifting you upon his horse if you are ever injured are all friendly and helpful things he'd probably not bother to follow through with anyone else. He's not cruel or unkind- just distant. So him allowing himself to do such intimate things in his eyes is a big deal. His voice is so so soft and solemn when he speaks to you- sharing whispered secrets and oaths late at night amongst the crackle of fire and chirping of crickets. Things he's never uttered before, not that you know of course.

.‧ ₊ ⊹˚He's a gentle creature to you. Soft gazes that linger too long for his own comfort, and yet he cannot bear to look away. You're haunting him, day and night. Often every waking moment is occupied with your existence, the constant leering and scolding of the parasite hissing and whispering into his ear. Worming into his consciousness, seeing everything.

‧ ₊ ⊹˚You best believe him and the parasite are always bickering. Poor D is often the ongoing victim of teasing and berating. Hissing and muttering under his breath, casting his gaze away from yours.

."Here you go again D, wanting something you can't have- mpfth!"

. He'll clench his fist tight, till his knuckles ached and turned bone white. Troubled... And irked.

. "You are to be kept out of this". He'll warn, his tone soft yet final. Unwavering as the parasite utters a muffled croaky crackle. Oh he does enjoy getting under his skin like this- and it seems he's found a sensitive spot. You.

.‧ ₊ ⊹˚He's unfamiliar with the attachment taking him this strongly. So... Latching. Surely he's come and gone from the delicate mortal loves that he's come across throughout his existence, and although their faded memories still linger like mist- he can't seem to unlatch himself off you. He needs you he can't have you.

Whenever he looks at you, his eyes are always full of melancholy. Like you have already left his life, his heart guarding itself from the inevitable occurrence of your loss. He's trying to confront these feelings early on to numb the pain later on. Please don't bring up the times where he has ever so softly stroked your face whilst you were supposedly fast asleep, or how you do notice his constant stares. He hides his embarrassment well but please spare him. Let him have this little thing for himself whilst he can.

‧ ₊ ⊹˚Overall, you'll have a very broody yet gentle dhampir looking after you for a while yet. He cares for you deeply, so deeply you may not even be able to fathom it with your mortal soul- regardless of his cool sullen gazes and soft slow actions, but you are precious to him. Enjoy your mysterious bodyguard for life!

[nightcolorz]

Could you tell me your interpretation of why the Devil's minion split up after qotd? I only read up to that book and i've been learning through spoilers

omg I love this question! I personally think it was sort of an inevitability. Armand and Daniel were super unstable, on and off again-y while Daniel was human, and the binding factor that kept them together was that Armand was a vampire and Daniel was a human. Daniel can’t stay away from Armand for long because he’s obsessed and enthralled with everything monstrous and other about him (he’s also quite literally addicted to his blood). Daniel is so attached to Armand partly I think because he desperately wants to experience vampirism and after the affair with Louis he can’t see a reality for himself without vampirism in his life—whenever he tries to live normally he has that nagging reminder that their r supernatural wonderful things he will never be a part of and it drives him crazy.

Armand is in love with Daniel because he’s fascinated by all the things that make Daniel human. He considers him his link to the “modern age” and the thing that connects him to what he craves the most (humanity). Armand finds it very difficult to connect with people and by extension the world after how isolated he’s been for a good chunk of his immortality, and connection is very important to him. Daniel is how he experiences that. Armand also I think very much envies humans and wishes in a way to return to his humanity, and in this he finds experiencing humanity through daniel and seeing it in him very enthralling and special. Also Armand considers Daniel a mirror to how he was as a human (immature, lustful, brave, obsessed with the supernatural, doomed to failure), and Armand is very very frightened of seeing someone who he considers an embodiment of all he loves about humanity and a representative of the naivety he once had fall down his same path and loose it all to madness and immortal hell.

and obviously this is a huge issue!! Because Daniel loves Armand for his vampirism and Armand loves Daniel for his humanity, and both of them fundamentally want to abandon the thing the other prizes them for. But the tragedy there is that it’s not so superficial!! They also just love each other in a simpler, more personal sense. Daniel feels free with Armand, he feels like he can be the insane person he rlly is when they’re together. Armand gives Daniel access to the type of unhinged freedom and intense connection that he wants from life. He’s a walking subject Daniel can study, someone who never stops being fascinating (perfect for a journalist). And he loves his layers and his complexity, all the gross and horrible parts of him. Daniel first falls for Armand when he hears him genuinely laugh. <3, For armand, Daniel basically the only person who’s rlly ever seen him for who he is and loved him for it. Armand has a pattern of being shaped by people into something else, or misperceived and loved for that false image, and Daniel is in love with all the worst parts of armand. He loves him for everything he is, Daniel even says he’s an Armand expert lol. He sees it all and he loves it. And Armand is experiencing this type of unconditionality for the first time. There’s real connection there! The issue is that despite this so much of their relationship is built upon the vampire and human dynamic and it’s super hard to move past that.

The choice that Armand makes when he turns Daniel is “do I value Daniel more then I value his humanity and what that represents” and of course, Armand chooses Daniel, even tho it breaks him to do what he considers to be unforgivable to this person he loves so deeply. Armand vowed very early on that he would never turn a person into a vampire. And it’s cuz Armand rlly doesn’t like being a vampire 😭 He knows he wasn’t supposed to be a vampire, his maker goes around talking all the time about how armand was a mistake he should have never made and he’s fucked up bcus of how vampirism has affected him. And Armand knows that bcus of this he is a distortion of whatever person he could have been, and he’s always longing to understand part of what he’s missing. it’s rlly pretty sad. And so it makes sense that Armand would hate to take on the responsibility of, as he sees it, potentially ruining someone he loves. But he’d rather have Daniel alive than dead, so he turns him. Already this is hard on Armand bcus he considers it a selfish defeat to turn Daniel, choosing his own feelings over what he knows would be best for him. Daniel meanwhile is thrilled. Not off to a great start already

so Daniel was turned under insane circumstances and Armand and him have very little time to process any of it. Daniel is afraid to take life which isn’t abnormal in itself, but it freaks them both out. Once the insanity of queen of the damned settles down and Daniel and Armand r living together as a vampire x vampire couple at night island the issues begin to set in. There’s a huge disconnect now, Daniel is thrilled to be experiencing vampirism as he’s always wanted, Armand is grieving daniels humanity, neither of them r talking about it. Also, Daniel still has his addictive personality and his mental health issues which r exasperated by being a new vampire, so ofc he’s kind of loopy and kind of unstable. And Armand is realizing this and he’s thinking oh my god I’ve ruined Daniel I’ve destroyed the person I love the most, I’ve taken this person who I consider just like myself when I was a human and I’ve repeated the cycle of destruction, I destroy everything I touch oh my god. And I imagine this thought pattern led to Armand distancing himself from Daniel and being agitated and off putting, and I can say that being rlly excited about a change that ur partner is passive aggressively hostile about is like actual hell.

And the kicker!!! Armand’s primary mode of communication with his loved ones is the mind gift. It’s basically his safety net, in tvl it’s explained that Armand rarely ever talks out loud because he finds speaking through his mind much more comfortable. He uses the mind gift to express his feelings when he can’t with words, which is a pretty handy tool in a relationship when ur someone who struggles with verbal communication. But when Armand turns Daniel!! He can not communicate through the mind gift with him anymore!! So basically all these issues Armand is having and all this grief and stress and resentment is being left unsaid, and therefore unresolved. A couple can nottt get over an issue they aren’t talking about.

I imagine Armand felt like daniels vampirism was a huge barrier blocking him from ever connecting with him as he did ever again. Which!! Obviously Daniel will notice that Armand is giving up on him, and old patterns begin to resurface. They don’t have the “Daniel wants to be a vampire but Armand doesn’t want to turn him” argument anymore, but they do have a tension that is being left both unresolved and not understood by either party. All they know is the spark is fading and there’s resentment and there’s pain. And that tension, with these crazies, results in big blow out yelling matches and crying and “I’m leaving u for good this time I mean it!!”

so in conclusion, what I think happened with Daniel and Armand after qotd is that combined with his preexisting issues and his vampirism inflicted overstimulation, Armand’s bitterness and his distance drives Daniel to a mental break, and after some fight or another he leaves night island and vows to never return. Daniel is in a very vulnerable mental state as an already mentally ill new vampire. Vampirism has a very overwhelming effect on some people where the change to sensory processing makes it hard for some vampires to function fully on their on because of how difficult it is for them to process information. And daniels got that. I feel like he could have possibly made it through well with a strong support system, open communication, and guidance on how to navigate this new life, but obviously he didn’t have that.

When Daniel was a human he’d do this often, leaving, but then he’d realize he couldn’t live without Armand and come back. But when Daniel is so out of his mind he gets distracted by a light bulb or smth, he doesn’t come back. Maybe he would have if he was in his right mind, but he’s lost it and there’s not the safety net of Armand’s mind gift to come and locate him. So Marius finds him, decides that Armand is too broken and immature to ever care for his own fledgling, and he takes him in. And I figure that Armand’s guilt becomes unbearable after this, and he internalizes the assumption that he isn’t fit to have his own functioning relationships bcus of his issues, and he gives up on Daniel completely. Of course until the pl trilogy when they r able to re connect!

so yeah!! That’s my interpretation, loved this ask thank u for letting me yap. I hope this was coherent lol. Thank u sm!

[savagewildnerness]

Let’s breakdown this scene…

Lestat, playing piano: bent over, lost in the world of the music - out of this world entirely. Louis sees a broken thing playing a plank of wood. A far cry from the proud, splendid creature he once knew.

(From Interview with the Vampire) "My eyes widened as I studied this stooped and shivering vampire whose rich blonde hair hung down in loose waves covering his face.”

Side note from me, as I love to talk about things that make The Vampire Chronicles appealing to me. Some people seem to be of the view that they wouldn’t desire immortality, only to be these sad, lonely, melancholic creatures… but I have always felt this way myself - even when I was a tiny child, long before I read The Vampire Chronicles. There has always been an innate loneliness and isolation to me deep inside. I don’t think you’d necessarily know it to meet me, mind! I am a smiley person! I like to do childlike, fun things. I try to bring happiness, not gloom to the world.

However, my instinct has always been to retreat into my own, wordless, unbound imagination, and to feel entirely alone, in truth. And still, I am. As a child, I felt more the weight of the world as if I were already 1000 years old. Now, loss of hope that comes with time is both sadder, scarier and, in its way, more freeing.

Anyway - imagine having infinite time and so being able to truly drift out of existence for decades. It’s such an appealing concept to me. I know Lestat is very sad here, but the idea of this kind of true escape… oh how I yearn for it. To let the world crumble around me. To step out of existence for some decades, with the possibility of return, not the reality as it is in mortal life that that is you falling through cracks you’ll never crawl out of ever again…

Lestat names Louis, reflexively when asked who said “hello”. He hasn’t turned to see Louis yet. To Lestat, Louis died 50 years ago. He is a ghost, surely? Lestat’s voice has a flat affect here. He isn’t thinking. He is merely reacting.

When Lestat first looks at Louis, I see fear:

- Does Louis really exist?

- What will Louis do?

- Must Lestat be drawn back into the world here? To acknowledge reality?

(From IWTV) “`I've dreamed of your coming . . . coming. . ' he said.”

Lestat asks Louis if he’d like a rat, as if he were a hallucination still, more than real-Louis. I think Lestat knows Louis is real when he speaks, but he’s still only half in reality himself.

Louis says “I’ve come to see you”, but Lestat is still half in his own constructed world with his music and Argerich… I love how Lestat hugs and caresses his plank-piano, drawing it into himself, as if drawing music in to himself. Me too, Lestat. Me too. I adore how Rolin and all added music to this scene. It isn’t there in the books. Of course it makes a through-line for rock star Lestat, but it is a deep love of Lestat’s and I am SO HAPPY with this addition!

I know a lot of people find “Siri, pause…” funny, but I must be a weird human, as I just find it oddly poignant. Like did people watch and laugh at this moment? This feels like when I go to see a play and people all laugh at something and I don’t laugh, then some other thing I laugh out loud at, but nobody else is laughing. And this is why I can’t do memes or any popular thing. SIGH. ANYWAY!!!

The way Lestat puts the keyboard up on front of himself, like a shield as Louis moves closer, his breathing growing ragged. Lestat genuinely scared… as though Louis’ mere presence might obliterate him if he gets too close. And of course, he does not know why Louis is there. Is he there to kill him? Does it matter if he is? He should kill him. He could too, right now. The emotional support piano becomes a protective plank.

But what Lestat is not expecting is Louis’ kindness, care, worry and empathy.

“Did you save my life in Paris?”

And now we get the first glimmer of the old Lestat as Lestat lifts his chin, shakes his head, tries to be nonchalant and to muster up his old pride, maintain any pride he still possesses. He immediately dismisses Louis’ niceness with a self-criticism as he truly perceives that he put Louis in danger by not protecting him from Armand. Responsibility in Nicolas’ death, and, he thinks, in Louis’.

Lestat is defensive. His unspoken mantra, “Don’t see me. Don’t see the real me, Louis. I cannot take it. Not right now.” Lestat is almost begging Louis to tell him he hates him, as he’s imagined Louis’ hate all these years… I fear halluci-Louis may not have been the kind, loving vision for Lestat that DreamStat was for Louis…?

A side note again: Lestat’s “All hail me” gave me a full-on spontaneous existential crisis. Folks, does Lestat say “All hail me” in the books? I hope not! Because for as long as I remember, in appropriate circumstances, I say “All hail me” and obviously it’s a turn of phrase, but I had a sudden heart stopping moment where, with a chill, I thought *Did I get that from Lestat?!* Am I entirely even my self at all?! Am I merely a manifestation of all the art I have ever consumed? Am… I… Armand!?!?!??!! Oh MY! I don’t think Lestat says this in the books though, right? Right!?!?

Well, Lestat puts his piano-plank down, terrified Louis might show him love. Craving it. Fearing it.

“Been enduring here?” Lestat is truly proud now. He will not admit his pain. As if not speaking it could make it invisible when it’s plain all about - from within him and without. It is *very* Lestat when questioned on the pain in his soul or shown that it has been seen to be like “I am FINE” & to think that’s how he comes across to others, when really of COURSE they see how broken he is. And then he bemoans that nobody will let him be broken, when he himself struggles to be broken other than when alone or on the page.

“I didn’t know it was a gift.” - Lestat is still wary. Still expecting hate from Louis here… unable yet to fully accept and understand…

Then Louis begins to say the only things Lestat has ever wanted to hear and know from Louis - thanking Lestat for the gift of vampiric immortality, showing he understands the beauty of it and intends to value that and use it… & Lestat is done for; broken open from here. He still, for a moment tries to fight back with “Shall we list all the ways we have wronged each other…” etc. But really, Lestat can now no longer maintain ay facade. Louis has opened him up.

And now we are open to Lestat’s thoughts for the last half-century. Armand erases Louis’ suicide attempt from his mind, but it is the first thing Lestat asks about. In his mind he has replayed for 5 decades how Louis is dead and it is his fault.

Sam and Jacob are so brilliant and beautiful as they open to each other in this scene. Claudia. Grief. Pain. Then, love. Broken-Lestat is particularly too much - holding on to responsibility over Claudia’s fate and how she looked at him at the end and he did nothing… and Louis, trying to take away and share the burden. Louis - so empathetic… and as they move through grief to love, words fall away (or become too personal to matter) and the storm outside echoes the storm of their hearts and their love.

(From IWTV) ““…And as I looked down at him, as I saw his yellow hair pressed against my coat, I had a vision of him from long ago, that tall, stately gentleman in the swirling black cape, with his head thrown back, his rich, flawless voice singing the lilting air of the opera from which we'd only just come, his walking stick tapping the cobblestones in time with the music, his large, sparkling eye catching the young woman who stood by, enrapt, so that a smile spread over his face as the song died on his lips; and for one moment, that one moment when his eye met hers, all evil seemed obliterated in that flush of pleasure, that passion for merely being alive.

" Was this the price of that involvement? A sensibility shocked by change, shrivelling from fear? I thought quietly of all the things I might say to him, how I might remind him that he was immortal, that nothing condemned him to this retreat save himself, and that he was surrounded with the unmistakable signs of inevitable death. But I did not say these things, and I knew that I would not.

" It seemed the silence of the room rushed back around us, like a dark sea…””

Bonus: misprint in my TVL copy!

(From TVL) “Louis had come finally to this very place and seen me through the windows. I tried to imagine it. Louis alive. Louis here, so close, and I had not even know it. I think I laughed a little. I couldn’t keep it clear in my mind that Louis wasn’t burnt up. But it was really wonderful that Louis still lived. It was wonderful that there existed still that handsome face, that poignant expression, that tender and faintly imploring voice. My beautiful Louis surviving, instead of dead and gone with Claudia and Nick.

But then maybe he was dead. Why should I believe Armand?”