#bram's come to save her and we should believe in this moment

[dazais-guardian-angel]

alright I've thought about it for a while, and I'm fairly confident that is in fact Bram, and that Aya isn't hallucinating/seeing an illusion.

The biggest thing casting doubt, aside from the obvious different outfit, is the fact that the chapter ends on this reveal, suggesting it could be a cliffhanger bait. However, BSD's cliffhangers always involve something terrible happening that gets rectified in the next chapter(s), to scare us before giving us back hope; there's never been a case of the other way around, where something good happens to get our hopes up, only to have the rug pulled out from us at the start of next chapter to show that we were foolish for hoping. Asagiri is never that cruel. He loves his death baits and his dangerous situation baits before letting us know that everything is okay, and he'd never suggest that it was wrong for the audience or the characters to have hope, when BSD is quite literally about having hope even in the most absurd situations.

But more specifically, just.... what would a fakeout like this accomplish? The only way I could maybe see it was if this is Fyodor, and we think Aya is safe but she's actually not, but there's no way it's him, because we see him with the singularity and Kunikida/Tanizaki at the same time as this, he's wearing Bram's outfit and not the one this person has, and we've established that he wants to protect Aya, not hurt her. Granted, he obviously doesn't care enough about protecting her since he let her escape and get hurt all on her own lmao, so that's exactly why I ask what would be the point of him suddenly showing up just to save her from the rubble, only to then just hurt her anyway? None of that is logical.

And then, if it's Akutagawa, then that means we had our emotions played with for a twist that is just.... mildly disappointing but also not outright bad for the characters? Disappointing because Bram isn't back after all, but also not a net negative because Aya is still being rescued by someone we know and trust. If that were to happen, Aya hallucinating Aku as Bram, I just can't see it happening as a chapter cliffhanger fakeout at all; it would just feel cheap and cruel, playing with our feelings (not to mention Aya's feelings!) regarding a character we want to come back, for a reveal that isn't really worth it and doesn't change the status quo (because she's still safe regardless if it's Bram or Aku).

Aside from the lack of narrative justification, I also believe that if Aya were to hallucinate Bram, she would see him exactly as she knew him back when he regained his body — I mean, she basically does see him like that when she's remembering his last moments with her in this chapter and in the previous one when she's yelling at Fyodor; sure they're just repeated panels as flashbacks, but they're still her memories of how she sees him. I was unsure for a while about the figure's identity, but it was seeing it pointed out that Bram no longer has his nails that was really the final nail in the coffin haha get it, it's a multilayered joke, please laugh- for me: why would Aya hallucinate Bram not only not in his own outfit, but with his body altered from how she knows it? There'd be no reason why she would, and no way she could. She's never seen him in a different outfit, with different nails. Note that every other instance we've gotten of characters hallucinating significant figures in their lives (Atsushi, Mushitarou, Dazai), they're always wearing the clothes they're most known for and what the person knows them to wear. There's no reason to assume this would be different for Aya, and that she'd imagine him wearing a completely random outfit from the one she associates with him, and randomly without his signature long black nails.

This closeup panel of Bram's collar right when he first begins speaking pretty much proves my point. It's inconsistent with the new outfit (Aku's outfit) we see him wearing on the last page, but with the framing of this, with him being entirely in shadow in the rightmost panel when he first appears, it's clear to me that Aya can't see him clearly yet, so she's imagining him the way she remembers him. And then he gets closer/lifts the beam higher so that the shadow starts receding from him, and his feet and hands and different outfit become visible. The tone of this moment and the way it plays out is exactly as I've seen in numerous other visual media, where a character thinks they're on the brink of death and has lost all hope and is ready to accept it, before the slow, grand reveal of the person they thought they'd lost rescuing them, often with them posing a philosophical question to challenge their current despair or their belief that their loved one couldn't possibly still be alive, just as Bram does here. If you've seen enough movies and TV, you can probably imagine exactly the kind of scene I mean, and exactly how this moment would play out if it were animated I say "would" because it's never a given that Bones will adapt it with the right tone like I imagine.

This is framed as a triumphant, hopeful scene, of a knight coming to rescue his princess after he was thought to be dead. Aya has hurt her leg here, she's trapped, she's realizing she's about to die, and she's at last fully convinced herself that everything she so staunchly believed in was wrong and that everything she fought for all that time was for nothing; firstly, why would she suddenly hallucinate Bram if she had already lost all hope, but most importantly, why would the narrative have Bram defy death and return to her and challenge the idea that all her ideals and actions were meaningless, only for it to turn out that it isn't really him, when she misses him so bad? That just.... wouldn't be right at all, that's not the feeling this scene gives at all. This is their moment, Bram has to be the one to say these things to Aya with their history together, not anyone else, and I can't imagine Akutagawa saying something like what Bram says to her here, about royalty carrying out their pledge to protect someone without fail, even if he has inherited Bram's protectiveness towards Aya like Fyodor has. No, I'm 90% certain that is indeed Bram. It can't possibly be anyone else.

...And so, all that to say that yeah, I believe that Bram has Fyodor'd himself into Akutagawa's body, since he's wearing his outfit. We don't really know the extent of Bram's powers, but it's looking likely that he can bodysnatch any of his vampires for himself if something ever happens to him, or perhaps Aku might be special since he was the first vampire Bram created at the start of all this. Needless to say I'm not at all worried about Aku though; this is probably the beginning of why he ends up with that suit of armor later on, since Bram has his clothes... I just have no idea how we get to that point. But Aku will be fine, I'm sure; this may even be the only way he can come back from being a vampire.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Immortal Beloved - Chapter Nine.

A warm, heartfelt thank you to my readers for your continued engagement :)

Previous chapters - Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 4,140

Warnings - 18+ only. Adult themes + vampire content throughout. Minors DNI!

“And so, I says to this fella, I says, right, listen here, mate! Any more out of you and you’ll be shitting your bloody teeth for a week, and you’ll never believe what he says to me, John. I tell ya now, you’ll never believe it, son. He stands there, right, fag dangling from his mouth, and he says to me...” 

John didn’t give a damn what the fellow in question had said as they stood guarding the front gates of Bryn’s home, gladly watching the sun beginning to sink in the sky. From the first moment, he’d asked Tommy never to pair him with Mickey Two Suits, begged him, in fact, and what had his brother done?  

…"so, there we are, right, having a scrap about it and then suddenly, this fucking umbrella comes flying out of nowhere! And it’s only the fella’s old dear, ain’t it, giving him a clobbering and dragging him home by his ear! I says to our Wilf, I says ‘eh, look at that! Thinks he’s hard enough to have a go at a Blinder and it’s his mom who has to run in and save his arse!’ What a night, John. Ya should have been there!” 

“Mickey...” 

“...and we went had a good ole’ knees up after, we did. Drank the Red Lion right out of whiskey that night, and you ain’t heard the best part yet, pal!” 

“Mickey, will...” 

“So, the landlord has this great, big Irish Wolfhound, right, and this group of lads are...” 

“Two Suits! Holy fucking shit, will you shut up!” John’s exasperated tones matched his wide eyes, shaking his head. “Christ you don’t half yammer on, mate!” 

Mickey pinked at the cheeks a little to have been – although lightly – admonished by one of his bosses, muttering his apologies and lighting a cigarette. He lasted all of twenty seconds. 

“So, we off for a few Christmas Eve drinks up the pub once your lady wakes up? Christmas Eve at The Garrison, ain’t nothing like it, is there? Do you remember that one year when... bloody hell!” 

This time, though, Mickey’s no doubt lengthy spiel was interrupted by a sight that made John’s heart flutter, Bryn suddenly appearing before them. “No, Mickey. John and I are to depart for Warwickshire, to a party hosted by Tommy and the lovely Grace.”  

John had wondered how well Grace would take to Bryn, but after introducing them for the first time just three days before, he’d found the women had a very natural chemistry with one another. He was also pleased – for Tommy more than himself – that it had encouraged Polly to warm towards his soon-to-be sister-in-law a little more as well, since he and Grace were to be married in the New Year.  

His aunt was not quick to warm to any women who came into the lives of her beloved nephews, especially not if she had good reason not to trust them, just as she’d had with both Grace and Bryn. For the latter, though, it had melted as soon as she’d seen something of herself within his ancient vampire lover, a woman who’d had her children torn from her, a woman whose pain she understood all too well.  

Leaving Mickey to trudge down to the bus stop and travel back to Small Heath, John and Bryn went inside, the former pouring himself a whiskey while Bryn readied herself for the evening. She was affixing tiny little pearl adorned pins into her hair when he ventured into the bedroom, kissing her bare shoulder as she sat at her vanity.  

“I thought you lot weren’t meant have a reflection.” 

Him and that flipping novel he’d taken it upon himself to read. She rolled her eyes, turning to press her lips to his cheek. “Not everything Bram Stoker claims about us is true, you know.” Picking up her perfume, she spritzed herself liberally, the scent misting over her pale skin. “Although I must confess, being able to turn myself into a bat would be useful. If for nothing else than to retreat from awkward social situations.” 

“Yeah,” he hummed, swirling the amber contents of his glass, “don’t think I’d fancy you half as much as a flying rodent. Maybe a bit still, like, but not as much as usual.”  

Her look of incredulity had him tipping his head back, his laughter filling the room. “You are disgusting, John Shelby!” 

“Still laughing though, ain’t ya!” Indeed, she was. His uncouthness, lack of filter and penchant for being completely inappropriate never ceased to entertain her. Truly, she had never met anybody like her darling John. She shook her head, picking up her kohl pencil and beginning to smoke her eyes sultry black. A little mascara and a twist of rouge to her cheeks and she was finished, speedily packing the rest of what she needed for their stay at Arrow House and whizzing down to the car to place her cases in, John going to ready Katie.  

The child had been spending more time with him at Bryn’s since school had finished for Christmas, being cared for during the day by Bettie until Bryn awoke and spent time with her before bed. It had warmed his heart hugely to witness their bond forming, Katie furnishing the Christmas tree with her help, overhearing the bedtime stories his love would recite to her, the old Norse sagas his daughter loved to hear. Katie’s bedtime upon their arrival at Tommy’s house was no different. 

“The crow went flying toward the North, croaking as she flew, “Let Hela keep what she holds. Let Hela keep what she holds.” That crow was the hag Thaukt transformed, and the hag Thaukt was Loki. 

“He flew to the north and came into the wastes of Jötunheim. As a crow he lived there, hiding himself from the wrath of the Gods. He told the giants that the time had come for them to build the ship Naglfar, the ship that was to be built out of the nails of dead men, and that was to sail to Asgard on the day of Ragnarök with the giant Hrymer steering it...” 

Standing in silent watch through the crack in the door, John smiled widely as Bryn recited a fairytale about Loki, Norse god of mischief to his spellbound daughter, the covers pulled up to her chin, Bryn’s hands gesturing as she spoke of the tale. At her core, she was such a natural mother, something within her so strongly maternal. The thought had never crossed his mind back when he’d first begun his courtship with her, but truly, she was everything Katie needed. 

She was everything he needed, too.  

“Now that’s a look of love if ever I saw one.” 

At hearing Polly’s whisper, he turned, grin still fixed firmly in place as his cheeks coloured a little bit at being caught staring so adoringly at the scene. “She’s only known her just under three weeks and she dotes on that little girl as if she were her own.” Walking away from the bedroom, he pulled a cigarette out, lighting up. “Ain’t what you thought she was, is she?”  

Polly lifted her chin, her eyes narrowing a fraction. “I don’t like to concede, but you’re right. She isn’t. Brynhild has surprised me with her nature. I never forget what she is, but I’m getting to know that what she is isn’t all she is.” Reaching for his face, she stroked his cheek, laying a pecked kiss upon the other. “I’m pleased for you, love. You look very happy.”  

He smiled again, his handsome features lighting up the dim glow coming from the bedroom. “I am, Pol. Might not have been long, but I am.”  

“Come on.” Opening her arm, she draped it around his shoulders, steering him down the corridor in the direction of the stairs. “Let’s go get drunk and eat too much food, have a good ole’ knees up.”  

Walking down into the throng of people milling around the welcome hall, the mix of guests were mostly business, both legitimate and not so, family and friends, servers carrying trays of drinks and food, the laughter and chatter filling the spruce-scented air. John was just reaching for a whiskey when he felt a cool hand slip into his, Bryn arriving with him, taking a champagne flute from a passing member of the wait staff.  

“How does it feel?” 

“How does what feel, my darling?” she asked, pressing herself close to him as he released her hand, wrapping an arm around her instead. 

“To be the most beautiful woman in the room?”  

She sipped her champagne, eyeing him with a twinkle there in the hypnotic blue of her irises. “Oh, you presume yourself to be so very charming!” 

His smirk widened. “Are you charmed?” 

“I am,” she hummed. 

“Then I’m fucking charming.” He kissed her head, his arm tightening around her. “Tell me about what underwear you’ve got on under that dress.” 

“You know my thoughts towards underwear, my love,” she purred, kissing his cheek as they moved through the guests. “I don’t like anything that gets in the way of your mouth.”  

A bolt shot through him, John closing his eyes for a moment. Opening them, he pulled himself back from the haze of lust to be greeted by an oncoming business associate, fellow bookmaker Kenneth Thompson.  

“John! Good evening to you and your fine lady, here! How are you keeping?”  

While he and her love got into conversation about the next race meets of the New Year, Bryn found herself beckoned over by Grace and Polly, gliding over through the throng of guests. It was as a young server passed her by that she caught the faintest whiff of it, a smell her nose never failed to detect. Her eyes snapped to the back of the redheaded girl’s neatly pinned tresses, watching her move from guest to guest.  

“You’re on alert,” Polly noted when she arrived with them, seeing how Bryn suddenly appeared much less casual in demeanour. “What is it?” Although not knowing her for long, she’d familiarised herself with how the vampire carried herself, the minute changes within her normally quite stoic disposition. Polly Gray well understood when it paid to be observant.  

“That girl,” Bryn began, pointing with her champagne flute. “Grace, how new is she within your employment? Also, is she local?” 

“Very new,” she confirmed, her eyes following the cold, hard stare of her vampire friend’s eyes. “Everybody is, though. With us only officially moving in recently, the staff were hired just over a week ago. As for where she’s from, Tyneside according to her references. Why do you ask?”  

“Thought I recognised her locally. I must be mistaken.” she lied, giving Polly a look that she read instantly. Tommy hadn’t filled in Grace over everything regarding Bryn, other than to obviously keep what she was well under her hat. Initially, she hadn’t believed him at all, laughing away under the impression that he was having her on upon their first meet. When Bryn had proved it by popping her fangs, she’d almost fallen out of her chair. 

With Grace called away to continue playing gracious hostess, Polly moved Bryn into the corner of the room away from earshot of the other partygoers. “Tell me what’s wrong.” 

“That girl,” she began, her eyes flitting away to follow her before they snapped back to Polly. “She does not bathe often, for not only do I detect a fine scent of body odour, but I also smell Rasmussen on her. It is faint, but present.”  

“You’re fucking joking me,” she hissed, eyes scanning the room. “I’ll get John and Tommy, let’s get this sorted.” 

Immediately, Bryn gripped her arm. “No, no, Polly. We need not involve the men just yet. Let me watch her. Act as you normally would, begin to laugh at everything I’m saying.” 

Polly’s faux, yet believable chuckle filled the air, Bryn affixing a huge smile to her face before launching into a real story, all the while watching the girl as she flitted from guest to guest. For all intents and purposes, they were having a wonderful Christmas Eve, with no suspicions over any infiltration to their circle.  

Every so often, the serving girl’s eyes would find Bryn, studying her in confirmation of this, the vampire feeling her entire being hum on high alert. As soon as she exited the welcome hall, Bryn moved to follow her, ducking speedily into the shadows as she stalked her, the girl looking as if she was heading back down to the kitchen.  

There was a pantry just to the side of the grand kitchen, a designated space where the butler would keep track of the household provisions at a small desk and put in the orders at the grocery, baker and butcher on a twice-weekly basis, Bryn remaining concealed from sight as the girl quietly made her way inside. She was just about to enter after her when John and Polly appeared.  

“Oi, don’t you look at me like that, Brynhild,” Polly whispered sternly, noting the displeasure she was viewed with. “Wasn’t me who said anything.”  

“She’s right, love” John spoke, touching a hand to her shoulder. “It was me who felt it.” 

Of course, he would. John Shelby had so much of her blood travelling through his veins at that point, he might as well have called himself Brynhild Mark Two. Holding a finger to her lips, Bryn listened, hearing the serving girl make her request to the telephone exchange. Rasmussen.  

Bingo.  

“Mr Rasmussen, I hope I am not disturbing you.”  

Before John or Polly knew it, Bryn was gone from before them, the butler’s pantry door flung open, both striding in to find the telephone cable pulled from the socket and a snarling Bryn pressing the girl down onto the desk by her throat.  

“How much did he pay you to infiltrate?” she growled, her fangs bared, the girl shaking in fright as she found herself at the very wrong end of a powerful vampire’s temper.  

“I-I d-d-don't know w-what you...” 

“Oh, bloody spare us!” Polly exclaimed, closing the door behind them. “You can’t fool a nose like hers. She smelled them on you.”  

“B-but I-I...” 

Bryn’s gripped tightened. “I said, how much, child?”  

“T-ten p-pounds.” 

A lot of money for a girl who she estimated likely earned less than a third of that a week. “I will pay you treble that to call him back right now and tell him that I am not among the Shelby family. For I know that is why you are here. As my friend just stated, I can smell them on you.” She shook her head, her nose crinkling. “Poor, unfortunate girl. Perhaps if you bathed more often, you might have been successful.”  

Nodding through her shakes, she felt on the verge of wetting her knickers in fear, watching the vampire as she looked to her companions. “Darling, plug the telephone back in.”  

John nodded, eyeing the girl with distaste, Bryn going into her small clutch bag and pulling out three ten-pound notes. “Here. I will pay you this to deliver the message. That is all you have to do. Do you understand?”  

“I-I do.” 

Bryn beamed, but her smile carried not a trace of warmth to it. “Good.”  

With the phone reconnected, the girl tucked her money into her neat little apron, taking the receiver and once again requesting the correct name to the exchange.  

“Helen, we were cut off before. Now, what do you have for us, pet?” Edward asked upon answering, the girl not able to drag her eyes away from Bryn, shaking with fright at the faint sound of her rumbling warning growl.  

“I’m afraid I have nothing.” She swallowed hard, taking a deep breath. “The woman you described is not within the guests. Just about everybody else notable is, but not any women with dark hair and a tattooed throat and chest, I’m afraid, sir.”  

“Stick around, she mightn't have arrived yet. Like we said, it might be another. Sounds daft, love, but look out for people who are paler than usual, and who don’t eat or drink with quite the same gusto as others do, like.” 

“Shall do, sir. I will report back tomorrow evening.” With that, the call ended, Helen finding herself on the receiving end of three very angry looking people. Well, only two were people. “What do I tell him tomorrow?” 

“As long as it doesn’t involve anything to do with vampires being around the family, tell him whatever the fuck you like,” John spoke, moving to impose himself before her, reaching into his pocket to pull out his knife. “And if you do fucking breathe a word about her to anyone, we will find out, and bab, you don’t want to know what I’ll fucking do to ya. We clear?” 

With a cold blade pressed against her cheek and the even colder glare of a vampire upon her, Helen nodded. “I shan’t say anything. I’ll just tell him there wasn’t any here. I promise, just please don’t hurt me.”  

Returning the knife to his pocket, he patted her cheek with his hand. “Good girl. Now, go up and pack your bags. Now.” 

“No.” Halting her with a splayed hand to her chest, Bryn stood in her path, shaking her head as she looked to John. “We must ensure she makes that call, John. If she doesn’t, then they will deduce that I am here and have dealt with her.” 

She was right. “What do you plan on doing to her?” 

Bryn pondered his statement for all of five seconds. “Fetch me some rope. We tie her to a chair in here and tell no one to enter. Then we come down here again at sundown tomorrow, let her make her call and escort her from the premises.” 

“And what the fuck are we meant to tell the serving staff, why they can’t come in here all of a sudden?” he asked, perplexed.  

Shaking her head in bafflement, a frown of light incredulity creased her forehead. “Darling, you run both legitimate and cooked books for a living; you’re better at mathematics than most of the fucking Arabs who created it. You’re also a goddamned Shelby, lying is in your nature. Do not tell me such mental calculus is beyond you.” Her eyebrows continued to rise, gesticulating wildly with her free hand. “Bloody make something up!”  

Polly couldn’t keep the smile from her face at how Bryn had both managed to praise and admonish him at the exact same time, especially watching John not know whether to be annoyed or enamoured by the crisply delivered statement from his lady. 

“I ain’t sure if I want to fuck you or slap you right now.”  

“I’ll let you do both later,” she winked, nodding towards the door. “Rope. Now.” As soon as he left the pantry, Polly was in soft fits.  

“Oh, my giddy aunt!” she snorted, lighting herself a cigarette while Bryn pushed a still terrified, but complacent Helen down into the wooden chair behind the desk. “Seeing you run circles around my bloody nephew like that is the only Christmas present I’ll need this year.”  

Bryn smirked, taking Helen’s hand and popping her fangs, forcing the young woman’s finger to her mouth and piercing the tip upon the point of one of those long, sharp teeth. Helen winced, Bryn licking the drop of blood that swelled forth. “There is my insurance, should stupidity and luck be on your side and mean you somehow escape. I will be able to find my way to you instantly.” 

With the way John bound her legs and arms to the chair upon his return, though, Bryn sorely doubted that Helen would be going anywhere, but took the phone with them just in case. “Please tell me that one day you shall delight my senses by tying me to the bed like that.”  

He paused upon the staircase, raising an eyebrow. “You could get out of it in about half a second, though.” 

“I could,” she purred, leaning close to flick her tongue against his earlobe, giving it a little nibble. “I wouldn’t attempt to, though.” 

“You,” he began, waving a finger at her, “you need to pack it in, you do. We’ve got to go fill Tommy in over all of this and you’ve bloody gone and gotten me at half-mast as it fucking is.” He nodded downwards, Bryn seeing the outline of his cock beginning to tent his trousers, chuckling as she grinned.  

“Well, my, my.” Leaning close, she kissed him, her lips all fiery honey upon his. “It looks like something is looking up this evening after all.”  

Carrying on up the stairs, she left him standing there waiting to deflate again, shaking his head as he muttered. “Bloody insufferable temptress.”  

“I heard that.” 

“You were fucking meant to, bab!” he shouted, making the server passing him jump, John placing a reassuring hand to his shoulder as he grinned widely, the man continuing his trajectory. “God, I love that woman.” 

As she stepped back into the throng of the party, Bryn heard that, too. She would never tire of it either, slipping her hand into his when he joined her after a few moments, fully calmed in the trouser department as they walked over to where Polly waited for them, opening the door to Tommy’s office.  

“Grace specifically told me no business tonight, so whatever this is, make it quick,” he spoke, taking a seat behind his desk, looking up to see Arthur enter the room, neatly closing the door behind him and shutting out the noise from the party.  

“Do not worry, Tommy. I have every intention of being perfectly concise so we may resume this wonderful evening you and Grace have put together for us,” Bryn began, Tommy nodding in acknowledgement of her praise, his eyes fixing upon her. “A spy sent by Edward Rasmussen infiltrated your serving staff. It was only because the dirty girl does not bathe quite as often as one should that I managed to smell their scent upon her, knew she had been close to them. 

“She was sent here to look for me specifically. I apprehended her with John and Polly prior to her delivering news to Edward himself, intercepted the phone call she was shortly to make, forcing her to tell him all was clear. He expects her to call in again tomorrow to confirm that no vampire fitting my image, or any other for that matter arrived here at Arrow House.” 

Arthur leaned around Polly, nodding to her. “You alright though, love? She ain’t burned you with no silver or nothing, has she?” 

Bryn was touched by his concern. “I am fine, dear Arthur. Trust and believe if she had of attempted to wound me, your brother would have likely acted swiftly.” 

“Wouldn’t fucking half have,” John muttered, pulling a cigar from his pocket and lighting up.  

Tommy digested her words, drawing idly upon his cigarette. “Which serving girl was it?” 

“Helen.” 

“And where is Helen now?” 

“Tied up in the butler’s pantry.” 

He rose to his feet. “Good enough, Brynhild.” Walking around the desk, he placed a hand to John’s shoulder as he passed. “Fits into our world just nicely does your lady, John boy. We’ll deal with this tomorrow.” Opening his door, he gestured through the space, the noise of the merriment filling the air as his family filed back out. Bryn was the last to leave, Tommy halting her with a soft hand to her forearm.  

“I’ll leave it to your discretion, whether Helen actually leaves the grounds or not tomorrow,” he whispered, his stare so strong Bryn felt it boring into the back of her skull. “Either way, though, she is to be gone and kept quiet.” 

Bryn would not have survived for as long as she had, should she not have known well how to read between the lines. Smiling, she leaned to kiss Tommy’s cheek, gliding from the room to take another glass of champagne and slide in at her love’s side once more, the head of the family watching her as he closed the heavy office door behind him.  

In offering his protection to Bryn, he saw well how the alliance benefitted him from her being close to them. Literally being able to smell the faint trace of an enemy upon a person was a skill he wished he possessed, but did not need to now that he had the most powerful vampire in England close with his family.  

Tommy Shelby knew a valuable asset when he saw one. The fact that she made his younger brother the happiest looking man in the room didn’t hurt either.  

[rosesareviolentlyread]

WIJ Day 3: Love

WOO the first actual prompt is here. This is a modern magic world heavily inspired by @0idril0 and @whumpywhumper‘s Nico & Markus/Lucien series respectively. I HIGHLY recommend you check them out. So this is meant to be an introduction to Pastor John/The Reverend, who is my first attempt at an intimate whumper. Thanks to @ashintheairlikesnow for inspiring the Reverend with Bram, def check out all her stuff if you haven’t

CW: religious whump, creepy whumper, whumper who doesn’t think they’re a whumper, kinda abusive relationship vibes, drugging, taking advantage of someone’s emotional state

John sits, listening to the record player in the corner crackle with the sounds of a congregation’s singing. His students tease him for being a ‘hipster’, but there’s something satisfying about their amateur voices, captured imperfectly, naturally, using a technology that reminds him of pottery, or weaving. Sound pressed into something physical, ethereality brought to his fingertips, his ears, across time. 

It’s a pleasant evening all around. John savors every detail as he takes a sip of scotch - a gift from a colleague in Edinburgh - settling into the thick leather chair by the fireplace, just musing in his mind while he waits for the brownies to be done. Perhaps he should grade, or write a lecture, or work on his sermon. But these moments in time, of being in his body, of feeling fire in his throat as sparks flick out as his toes, these are God’s moments, moments of perfect creation and harmony. 

But still, he isn’t bothered by the knock on his door, despite the late hour. The students know his door is always open. He’s become used to them coming to his couch after a late temptation, or perhaps a lapse in their faith. Perhaps just a personal dilemma. The community too, though they typically take the ‘door unlocked’ policy as is. 

No, the timidness of the youngest in his flock always brings a smile. It seems no matter how many departmental or congregational dinners he hosts, how many times they come knocking, they always knock. It is part of their youth, not cemented in their beliefs, in knowing that God will provide. So he provides, until they can become sure, can understand how a trinity of a different kind, God, his Son, and their Pastor, will be there for them. They are lambs, learning to stand on their own legs, which is why this is his favorite place to shepherd. 

“Coming!” He calls out, setting the glass carefully on a coaster before opening the thick door to the cottage. It takes a few blinks to clear his eyes from the rush of cold air that assaults them. The weather always seems to surprise him, just one of many things in this beautiful world. 

But what doesn’t necessarily surprise him is to see, red-rimmed eyes, a flushed tear-tracked face delicately wrought in its complexion, set upon a lithe frame that hides immense strength, an immense spirit that positively glows normally with ash-blonde hair and bright gray-blue eyes. Faith. A sense of calm comes over him, a release of tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding for days. 

“Oh, my girl, I was hoping you’d come by” Before she can get a word out, John wraps strong arms around her, enveloping her in a warm hug. Immediately he feels the telltale shake of her shoulders, small hands gripping the back of his sweater tightly, a damp spot right near his heart growing. 

Yes, John expected this. For how long, he isn’t entirely sure. Perhaps, always. Perhaps, because somewhere in him, he knew God had bigger plans for them both.

Faith had been a special student to him, from her first year intro course in the Theology department. A bright girl, a good girl, who believed with her heart and soul in Jesus’ saving grace for even the most dastardly of sinners. He hadn’t recognized it well at the time, but even he had fallen prey to the negativity within the church, the ones who said Supernaturals were truly the devil incarnate, incapable of being saved. 

But Faith, she took it upon herself to prove them all wrong. She’d been hesitant to propose her thesis to him, as her advisor. A piece to study the beliefs and communities of Supernaturals locally, from a theological and sociological perspective, in order to understand how those beliefs might be reconciled with modern Christianity. A piece that would allow for the Evangelical church she came from to see the same possibility of salvation she did. To choose love. 

“It’s alright, shhh. Why don’t you come in? The brownies for tomorrow’s potluck are almost done. I’ll put on some tea, dandelion right?” Gently, he pried her away from him, thumbing tears as she sniffled away the last of her outburst. 

“Thank you, Reverend. I just...I didn’t know where else to go. Yet.” The downcast of her eyes nearly breaks his heart at the cruelty of this world. For his fellow Christians had chosen to hate, to cast her out of their flock, after she bared her thesis, her work, no matter how unfinished. All because of what she was. 

Peter 1 4:8 comes to his mind: Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers a multitude of sins.

So what if she was truly born Fae, a natural sinner of the largest proportions. Does her desire to be saved, to save others, to feel Jesus’ healing light not garner love in them? 

Her desire, her faith, does in John’s chest, a warm feeling better than the finest scotch as he gently leads her to couch, leaving her with some tissues to compose herself. 

The moment feels so right the longer he’s in it. The brownie timer goes off right as he enters the kitchen, and he pulls them out. Perfect. He leaves them to cool as he flicks on the kettle, fingers moving through his vast collection for just the right blend. Dandelion, reminiscent of shortbread cookies, Faith’s favorite. They’ve shared so many cups over late night thesis meetings, church group meetings, dinner meetings that the box has only one left. Pulling out the last packet, he tucks away in his mind to buy more boxes. 

They’ll go through a lot he imagines, in the next few months. It’s easy to prepare, like a moment meant to be, as he lets the tea steep, adds two spoonfuls of sugar, and drops in the pills, stirring until they dissolve evenly. 

He brings it all out, tea, brownies, to the couch, where she’s already claimed a throw. It’s good, he thinks, that she already feels at home here. It’ll be easier that way. 

“Thank you,” her hands grip the warm mug, breathing in the steam, and he watches attentively as she takes a sip. “It’s been...I was scared. That you’d turn me away too” 

“My dear, you have never had anything but love for Jesus and God in your heart. Why would I believe something like this would change that?”

Of course he had been worried, in the beginning of her thesis, that she would be swayed. That they would convince her with their wicked tongues, guile her with magic and false miracles, false idols. Yes, now that he looks back, perhaps he did see it all coming. No, she hadn’t been swayed. 

But she’d swayed him. To believe in the possibility of truly saving those damned souls. So much that he’d begun his own research, his own plans, prepared for the possibility. And now, it appeared God’s plan was working perfectly, dropping her right on his doorstep on the eve of her transformation between worlds, an apostle for a new era

“Everyone else seems to think that, that this is wrong. How though? How can being who I am, the person God made me, be wrong?” Her voice is quiet in the night, barely above the crackling fire in its hoarseness, tinged still with tears. 

“He does nothing wrong. He made you this way for a reason, so that you may show others. Think of it, your work, is this not His plan?” John tries to keep the excitement out of his voice, to remain calm, collected. Gentle. Yes, he must be gentle, to do this in love for the Lord. 

She pauses, sipping more. “I...I don’t know. I just, I need some time, I think. I was walking to the bus stop when I passed your house and thought...I don’t know. I guess I hoped there’d be something I could come back to, when I was ready” Her eyes stare into the surface of the tea, growing distant. Tired. It’s working fast, he knows, likely due to her exhaustion from the past few days. 

“It’s alright to not know. The Bible does not have all the answers, but it leads us to where we need to find them. Perhaps that’s why you came here. Why don’t you get some rest, stay here tonight. Tomorrow is a new day, a new chance for you to find your way.” 

“Thank you, Reverend. That..that sounds nice. You’re right, I need to-o-o-o” the sentence is interrupted by a yawn and he chuckles. 

“It sounds like the only thing you need right now is a good night’s rest. Come on, I promise this couch may be old, but she’ll service you well. She’s saved me from several late night grading sessions” Taking the tea, he lets her settle down, and grabs a quilt from the closet - a gift from an older parishioner - and tucks it around her. 

“Goodnight, Faith. Sleep well, tomorrow will be a busy day” she mumbles something slurred, incomprehensible under the effect of the drug. Still, he sits and waits, gently petting the silky hair until her breathing fully evens out, deepens into a rhythm that could be a lullaby to itself in his ears. 

So beautiful, so wonderful, so perfect. Truly, this is his and her purpose: to show that the souls of the supernatural can be saved through Jesus’ light. 

It is with that thought that he picks up the limp bundle of girl, and carries her down into the basement.

Tags: @sableflynn @bleedingandfeverish @starry-whump @whumpmasinjuly(let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the tag list for this series)

[spearfeld]

So I just finished Love, Creekwood

Some spoiler-filled thoughts under the cut!

tl;dr 4/5, it was super cute but I was confused about some things and didn’t think everything worked

Overall, I liked it. It was cute as fuck, and it was nice getting to see the squad again. I have some good to say about it, some bad, and then just some...questions. Let’s start with the good:

Becky’s writing style is as cute and as charming as ever. There were multiple parts of the book that had me laughing out loud, even if maybe not as strongly as I did while reading Simon, Leah, and watching Love Simon and Victor. Drunk Simon makes a reappearance, and it is everything. EVERYTHING. I love that boy so much and he only gets more adorable when he drinks lol.

I love the whole theming of “save states” and wanting to keep moments forever and go back to them, and the idea of holding onto the past. That’s a really unique way of tackling an interesting topic, and I love it quite a bit.

And this isn’t really a bad thing, sort of just an observation, but when Plot Things started happening, it really shocked me, because I forgot that books are supposed to have a plot lmfao. Maybe it is a bit of a criticism, but the reason that surprised me so much is because up until conflict started arising, it really was feeling just like supplemental material, just some cute fluff, the kind of stuff I would go on ao3 to read fanfic about. That’s not necessarily a bad thing--it is very cute and very fluffy and very fun to read--but books do need conflict, even short 100-page novellas told entirely through e-mails.

That being said, the conflict is definitely an interesting one. Long-distance relationship stories are nothing new, of course, but this kind of conflict was teased at the end of Leah on the Offbeat, and I think it’s handled mostly well, narratively. I especially like the contrast between Simon and Bram’s relationship trying to manage long-distance, and Leah and Abby’s who are literally living together and could not be closer if they tried (except Abby does, lol, by suggesting they push their beds together, which, cute).

I’m not entirely sure the e-mail format entirely works for this story. It’s serviceable enough--Becky does a really good job at filling in blanks without spelling everything out for us, with a few exceptions that we’ll get to later--but the e-mails don’t lend themselves to enough character insight, and I found myself getting kind of lost through some of it.

For example, the main “plot” of Love, Creekwood is that Simon and Bram are struggling in their long-distance relationship (did Becky read The Whole Story, should I be pursuing legal action? /s), and that much is apparent through Simon’s e-mails with Bram, but when Simon e-mails Abby and Leah, it seems like he’s worked things out. But then Leah and Abby have their own correspondence where they’re like, “I’m worried about Simon.” And I was like...why? Oh I guess he was trying to make things seem better than they were? Okay, that didn’t super come across in the e-mail. So it was hard to tell what was actually going through the characters’ heads during the story at times. 

But trying to change the story from an e-mail format to a prose format with e-mails like the first Simon book would have taken more time and effort, and I know that Becky probably didn’t want to spend more effort than necessary on a project like this--she’s said on multiple occasions that Leah was the last book in the Simonverse and that she didn’t want to write any more books featuring Simon. I definitely think she was excited about writing this book and getting to spend time with these characters again, but I think digging them up for a full-length novel just wasn’t something she was interested in doing. I can’t blame her for this, either. She spent years in the Simonverse. Simon was her debut, and her next two books were directly related to it in some way--one being a sidestory featuring characters from Simon, and the other being a direct sequel. It’s easy to get burnt out on a world when you spend so much time involved in it, and I think Becky wanted to work on different things. So, for what it’s worth, I think this is probably the best form of this book that we could have gotten.

Also, very tiny nitpick but it was hard to see who was writing who sometimes, since all of the e-mail addresses tended to blur together sometimes, particularly in the group messages, and I think that if Becky wasn’t so dead-set on “e-mails are the thing it has to be e-mails!!” then she could have gotten away with making that an actual group chat/text and it would have read a lot cleaner.

Those are the only real negatives I can say about it, unless you count these questions I have as negatives, which, I kind of count them as half-negatives because they’re not inherently bad things, and I think ambiguity was the intent here, but it left me feeling a bit unsatisfied. Maybe this will change the more I think about the book, but regardles:

What actually happened between Simon and Bram? What’s going on with them? We spend a lot of their e-mails talking about how much they miss each other, and then there’s the whole weird Birthday/Marriage Proposal thing. And we never actually get a concrete answer as to what happened with them on the Ferris wheel. Apparently Simon said two words to Bram that “destroyed” him. And I can’t, for the life of me, figure out what those words are supposed to be.

He doesn’t seem to be upset by them, judging by how he wants to “keep that one,” so it has to be a good “destroyed.” But their emails seem to become a lot more strained after that point, and Simon has been neglecting messaging his friends, leaving Leah worried he’s spiraling. What could Simon have said to Bram that night that would change their relationship like that, and cause Simon to retreat the way he did? “Marry me?” “It’s you?” “Fuck Martin?” “Hello, lover?” Like I seriously don’t get what exactly he said there, but I get the impression that I was supposed to have inferred something, that there was something I should have picked up on to lead me to a conclusion, an answer to that question.

Did Simon ask Bram to marry him and he say no? That can’t be, because when Simon finally responds to Leah, he says that, while he does believe Bram is the one, he knows he’s not ready for it to happen right now, so I can’t imagine he would have gone through with proposing. Did he say, “It’s you,” in a callback to when their identities were first revealed? Maybe it’s supposed to be a callback to something from Simon vs that I just don’t remember, because it’s been a while since I’ve reread it.

Going back and rereading that section, it really seems like it’s a one-sided Simon thing at first, that he’s just figuring stuff out. So, if he said “it’s you” what else is there to figure out? Like, they’re still together, they’re spending their breaks together, Simon spends a whole two weeks and then some in New York with Bram, and then they hit that “This isn’t working” point. And so I’m wondering, did something happen when Simon was in New York? It’s never really said, though Abby and Leah do point out Washington Square Park and...I’m not entirely sure why?

Okay, and finally, the ending: I’m still really confused by it. Not Simon transferring to New York, that makes sense, but Bram’s reply to it doesn’t. I mean, it’s in-character and makes sense as his reaction, but I don’t understand it’s significance. What is he calling Simon about? Just, that he’s happy they’re going to be going to school together? To talk about his transfer? I don’t know, something about it just felt incomplete to me.

All of this being said, I did still enjoy this book. It was super cute and exactly the follow-up to this series that I didn’t know I needed haha. Don’t take any of my criticisms of the book as hate or anything. I love Becky, I love her writing style, and I love her characters. This book could have been fifty pages of Simon e-mailing Bram his interpretation of the themes to the Bee Movie and I’d have loved the living hell out of it. It just didn’t click all the right boxes for me, in ways I can’t entirely place my fingers on.

[dreadhaus-literature]

{A/N}

I can’t believe it’s almost the end of January already??? This is nuts.

I opened this on a whim, but I was talking to myself and figured...I should just note this down, so.

Despite the fact that I got hella side-tracked playing Batman: The Telltale Series, and though I only created two OC’s (not diminishing! I am very proud of them) I have slowly been trying to cultivate and encourage my writing and creativity.

I feel like I just planted a flower and it’s Baby Groot in his pot, stage.

Adorable and bitty and capable of that little baby groove, but not a lot of range, yet.

Coming back from giving up isn’t easy but that was partly why it was so easy to just give up on everything--it wasn’t going anywhere and I wasn’t doing anything so what did it matter?

I’m still wrestling with it mattering. There’s still that voice in my head, telling me I’d be putting in a lot of work creating OC’s and writing stories for no reward or reason. It’s directly clashing with my desire to create and be active, writing-wise, and it’s akin to cutting off blooms from my growing flower. It is why I talk myself out of writing and why nothing else creative has been done on this blog since last week.

I’ve never been keen on doing things for myself so that is the other part of the issue. I’d just be writing for me, now, and I don’t care about my own writing so there’s no heart in it. That’s why I don’t have a million OC’s, because I don’t need that for myself, but I created the huge Triquetra, Inc. for Monica because I wanted her to have everything she could possibly want at any given time. That was cake and even with those massive OC questionnaires I used to do I enjoyed it because I was doing it for her. It wasn’t even work, I actively looked forward to doing it and giving them to her as gifts.

As a Cancer, I’ll never have that drive for myself. We’re just not into self-satisfaction. So I don’t quite know what to do with...that part of things.

Because I have an idea for a book/novel collection, one I think could actually...you know, make it. Be published. Be worth a goddamn to write. It hit me like a fucking lightning bolt last week and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.

I’d always wrestled with the fact that I love comic books but I can’t draw so I’d never be able to actually...do anything comic related. But last week I realized I could still write superhero/supervillain stories as novels and just not...illustrate them, lol. I mean it’s a fairly original idea, especially going the romance route, and I took it a step further and modeled it semi-after Christine’s “Dark” series--but only in an on-going sense, as in it’ll be a book series focused on superheroes and supervillains in a shared universe, and I could just crank out books within the universe.

It’s still a very, very rough idea and I don’t even have any OC’s for it, I legit have two pages of notes I scribbled down during a break at work last week, but...it feels like I have something, here.

It operates on a “Good vs Evil” premise in that each book will alternate; first book with focus on a hero as a romantic interest, second on a villain as a romantic interest, third on a hero, fourth on a villain, etc etc. And the “Good” or the Hero will feature a traditional, happily ever after, mildly-vanilla/safe relationship, while the “Evil” or Villain will feature a dark, obsessive, unhealthier relationship--so that way I can tickle both fancies. There’s options for people who just want to read a nice, sweet romance novel and there’s options for those who want to sample something a little darker, edgier, while still satisfying a fulfilling romance.

I know it’s still new and very rough and I know it probably sounds like a hopeful thing to say but I really think I have something with this idea. I haven’t done any research and I’m sure there’s these types of novels out there, at least in the ballpark (because it’s 2020 and it’s almost impossible to completely originate an idea) but I haven’t heard of anything exactly like that I just described.

Ironically, I’ve had this idea and executed it before when I was writing fanfiction. I split a collection, CYOAish, called “Heaven or Hell” that I co-wrote, where readers could choose if they wanted to go to Heaven and spend time with “Good” characters or Hell and romance the “Bad” characters.

I, lol, wrote Hell for that collection, but I mean, I can write good stuff.  I mean I do love Peter Parker, I can...write that wholesome stuff. I HAVE THE RANGE.

What I don’t have is the belief I can do this. I don’t believe in myself anymore. And this is where I wind up, every single time I sit down to write something that isn’t for anyone in particular. Writing for Monica is cake, I could do that every single day and not falter, and writing fanfiction is relatively easy (like my Avengers collection, is what I’m referencing here) because there’s a built-in fanbase that will consume your work.

But right now, this is just me.

I feel like I’m out at sea, with a paddle in my hand, and I...could dip it into the water and start myself moving but I’m used to having a motor to do that for me. So it’s...scary, to take those first few strokes, and it’s harder, and discipline is a motherfucker--because we’re back to the question of, why do it? It all feels pointless.

I went through a lot of my writing folders last night, on a whim--one, I was amazed at all the stuff I have planned/saved for the Family, but two, I was looking at the planning I did for Milano and Leothes and Bram, and even for Miekill, who started off as an RP persona but he’s so fucking loud all the time I have half a mind to use him for stuff, too.

But I re-read all this work I had done and then was like, “Well I should do something!”

But then I closed it all and didn’t.

When I start to create, now, that’s all I hear in my head. This little naysayer of a voice, telling me there’s no point to doing anything, and I know that’s my environment. I’ve been stuck for a very long time and have been living in the same cycles for...well, ever. So I don’t expect any change or anything better to happen, anymore.

Lately, though, my horoscope has been very keen to remind me that sometimes we have to make the change happen. To stop expecting things to just get better around you and actively do something about what your situation is, what you want.

And I pass by a hanging quote every single night at work, hanging in a frame in someone’s office--

“If you do the same thing you always did, you’ll get the same thing you always got.”

It’s like the universe is telling me to fucking pay attention, because it’s telling me what I have to do. And I’m just standing in my own way by listening to that voice.

If what’s-her-face can make that Twilight fanfiction into something and I know I can do better, what the fuck is my excuse for not?

So I guess this is another instance of me trying to push myself back up, to stand up and start moving, again. Self-motivating and self-discipline are very difficult, especially for me, so that’s why I periodically have to come here and remind myself of things like this, because right now that little voice is winning. I still believe that I have talent but I also listen when it tells me it’s pointless to write, that I’m not writing for anyone in particular so there’s no reason to spend hours doing this.

January is almost over and all I have to show for it are two new OC’s. I’ll admit this wasn’t the same momentous breakthrough that I had last year, but I won’t be down on myself for it. I’m still figuring things out, I still am a little...lost at sea as I try to find my way again, but every time I come to write these things, it reminds me why it isn’t pointless. That tonight, I felt like writing. I still feel like creating and I still want to do these things.

As long as I don’t lose that, then there’s still a point to all this.

[geopolicraticus]

Sexy Vampires

In the tradition of my past Hallowe’en features -- Sexy Devils (2011), Sexy Ghouls (2012), Sexy Demons, (2013), Sexy Skeletons (2014), and Sexy Aliens (2015), and Sexy Witches (2016) -- I here offer a curated collection of sexy vampire images, once again (as in previous years) sourced from exhausting research into the minutiae of the erotic macabre. 

The idea of a seductive female vampire is right there at the beginning of the tradition in Bram Stoker’s novel, where the character of Jonathan Harker recounts his encounter with the “Brides of Dracula”:

“I was not alone. The room was the same, unchanged in any way since I came into it; I could see along the floor, in the brilliant moonlight, my own footsteps marked where I had disturbed the long accumulation of dust. In the moonlight opposite me were three young women, ladies by their dress and manner. I thought at the time that I must be dreaming when I saw them, for, though the moonlight was behind them, they threw no shadow on the floor. They came close to me, and looked at me for some time, and then whispered together. Two were dark, and had high aquiline noses, like the Count, and great dark, piercing eyes that seemed to be almost red when contrasted with the pale yellow moon. The other was fair, as fair as can be, with great wavy masses of golden hair and eyes like pale sapphires. I seemed somehow to know her face, and to know it in connection with some dreamy fear, but I could not recollect at the moment how or where. All three had brilliant white teeth that shone like pearls against the ruby of their voluptuous lips. There was something about them that made me uneasy, some longing and at the same time some deadly fear. I felt in my heart a wicked, burning desire that they would kiss me with those red lips. It is not good to note this down, lest some day it should meet Mina’s eyes and cause her pain; but it is the truth. They whispered together, and then they all three laughed—such a silvery, musical laugh, but as hard as though the sound never could have come through the softness of human lips. It was like the intolerable, tingling sweetness of water-glasses when played on by a cunning hand. The fair girl shook her head coquettishly, and the other two urged her on.”

This masterful description captures almost everything of significance, including the twin ambiguities of the beauty and animality of the brides of Dracula, and Harker’s conflicted attraction to and repulsion from them. It is surprising that, with all the Dracula films that have been made, this episode hasn’t been played up more than it has.

One of my personal favorite cinematic female vampires is Gloria Holden in Dracula’s Daughter, a 1936 sequel to the classic 1931 Bela Legosi Dracula film. This isn’t a great film by any means -- not as good as the 1931 film -- but I have many favorite films that aren’t great films, which nevertheless strike a chord with me. Gloria Holden reportedly did not want this role but was assigned it regardless. Her statuesque good looks aren’t what we would expect today to be cast for a sexy vampire, but it lends a quality of gravitas to the character of Dracula’s daughter. I would love to write a “re-imagining” of Dracula’s Daughter, since, while Dracula has been re-made countless times, Dracula’s Daughter has not yet inspired that sincere form of flattery we call imitation. 

Leaping forward from the nineteenth century ambiance of vampires drawn from Stoker’s novel into the distant, exotic future of 1990 (!), the ultra-low-budget flick Queen of Blood features an enigmatic alien vampire (an early depiction of a sexy alien, played by Judi Meredith, who, I was interested to see, was born in Portland, Oregon) who preys upon the human crew who are transporting her back to Earth. This film was based on a Soviet film, even reusing some of the Soviet film footage to save on the effect budget. The result looks like the low budget film that it is, but if the viewer watches it sympathetically, you can see the lost opportunity that this film is. With more money, and more time and attention, this might have been a classic science fiction horror flick long before Alien. As it is, the cheapness of the film detracts from its ability to frighten.

There is perhaps no more perfect exemplification of the erotic macabre than vampires, which, whether male or female, have been depicted as both sexy and dangerous, as being both animalistically attractive and repellent at the same time, as we have seen in Stoker’s description of the Brides of Dracula.

We may compare the figure of Dracula -- fons et origo of the vampire mythos -- to that of James Bond, who must be attractive to both men and woman. Men want to be James Bond, while woman want to be with James Bond. And we note that there is no ambiguity in the sexual orientation of James Bond: he is admired by both men and women for his masculine qualities. Dracula must, like James Bond, be interesting to both men and women, but Dracula is an even more complex and elusive character, because of the ambiguity of attraction and repulsion. This ambiguity is raised by another order of magnitude with the sexy female vampire. As with any seductress, men want her and women envy her, but both men and women equally fear if not loathe her. 

The fear and the loathing together with the seduction and attraction of the sexy female vampire extends to her eschatological role in the vampire mythos: the vampire offers a perverted form of salvation to his or her victims, who are enabled to live the life everlasting, but as the undead rather than as the blessed. The vivid sexuality of vampires is perhaps a function of this eschatological role: the promise of sexuality hints at the forbidden fruit of eternal life as the undead. What other than this sexuality could be sufficient compensation for eternal alientation from God and the eternal salvation promised the believer? Sexuality here is the immediate (and presumably tragically perishable) satisfaction offered to the sinner in exchange for this soul.   

Despite the countless vampire films that have been made, from the sober (Nosferatu) through the romantic (Nosferatu the Vampyre) to the lurid and sordid (Vampyros Lesbos), and many very bad films besides, it is evident that the vampire mythos is far from exhausted. It would be a relatively easy matter to embroider upon any number of aspects of the story which, despite numerous adaptations, have not yet been fully exploited. And sexy vampires in particular still retain enormous potential for terror mixed with morbid fascination.

[aion-rsa]

Top New Horror Books in July 2020

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

There’s so much to look forward to in our speculative fiction future. Here are some of the horror books we’re most excited about and/or are currently consuming…

Join the Den of Geek Book Club!

Top New Horror Books In July 2020

Survivor Song by Paul Tremblay 

Type: Novel Publisher: William Morrow/Titan Books Release Date: July 7

Den of Geek says: The latest from the master of sad horror Paul Tremblay is one of his best yet. It is however, disturbingly prescient. Following an outbreak of fast acting rabies, hospitals are short of PPE and citizens are on lockdown. But when Doctor Ramola’s heavily pregnant best friend Natalie is bitten, the two must go on a perilous journey to save her unborn child. It’s gorgeously written, very moving and a little bit disturbing during a pandemic.

Publisher’s summary: A riveting novel of suspense and terror from the Bram Stoker award-winning author of The Cabin at the End of the World and A Head Full of Ghosts.

When it happens, it happens quickly.

New England is locked down, a strict curfew the only way to stem the wildfire spread of a rabies-like virus. The hospitals cannot cope with the infected, as the pathogen’s ferociously quick incubation period overwhelms the state. The veneer of civilization is breaking down as people live in fear of everyone around them. Staying inside is the only way to keep safe.

But paediatrician Ramola Sherman can’t stay safe, when her friend Natalie calls, her husband is dead, she’s eight months pregnant, and she’s been bitten. She is thrust into a desperate race to bring Natalie and her unborn child to a hospital, to try and save both their lives.

Their once familiar home has become a violent and strange place, twisted into a barely recognisable landscape. What should have been a simple, joyous journey becomes a brutal trial.

The Only Good Indians by Stephen Graham Jones

Type: Novel Publisher: Gallery/Titan Books Release date: July 21

Den of Geek says: Stephen Graham Jones is being touted as the next big thing in horror circles and while he’s had more than 20 books published it’s likely this will be his big breakout hit. The Only Good Indians follows a group of Blackfeet Native Americans who are paying the price for an incident during an Elk hunt a decade ago. Social commentary, a supernatural revenge plot and an intimate character study mix in this literary horror with something to say which brings genuine chills.

Publisher’s summary: Adam Nevill’s The Ritual meets Liane Moriarty’s Big Little Lies in this atmospheric gothic literary horror.

Ricky, Gabe, Lewis and Cassidy are men bound to their heritage, bound by society, and trapped in the endless expanses of the landscape. Now, ten years after a fateful elk hunt, which remains a closely guarded secret between them, these men and their children must face a ferocious spirit that is coming for them, one at a time. A spirit which wears the faces of the ones they love, tearing a path into their homes, their families and their most sacred moments of faith.

The Only Good Indians, charts Nature’s revenge on a lost generation that maybe never had a chance. Cleaved to their heritage, these parents, husbands, sons and Indians, these men must fight their demons on the fringes of a society that has no place for them.

Malorie by Josh Malerman

Type: Novel Publisher: Del Rey/Orion Release date: July 21

Den of Geek says: This is the sequel to Bird Box, the brilliant horror-thriller which spawned a not-that-great Netflix movie that was nonetheless extraordinarily successful. The original imagines a world populated by monsters – if you look at them you instantly lose your mind and harm yourself or others. The sequel finds Malorie and the two children years later – the kids are now teens who’ve never known a world other than the one behind the blindfold while Malorie still remembers the world before it went mad. A character study as well as a tense, paranoid horror story, this is one of the most anticipated horrors of the year.

Publisher’s summary: The much-anticipated Bird Box sequel

In the seventeen years since the ‘creatures’ appeared, many people have broken that rule. Many have looked. Many have lost their minds, their lives, their loved ones.

In that time, Malorie has raised her two children – Olympia and Tom – on the run or in hiding. Now nearly teenagers, survival is no longer enough. They want freedom.

When a census-taker stops by their refuge, he is not welcome. But he leaves a list of names – of survivors building a future beyond the darkness – and on that list are two names Malorie knows.

Two names for whom she’ll break every rule, and take her children across the wilderness, in the hope of becoming a family again.

Top New Horror Books In June 2020

Devolution by Max Brooks 

Type: Novel Publisher: Century  Release date: 06/16/2020

Den of Geek says: If anyone’s going to make a book about Bigfoots (Bigfeet?) not only genuinely very scary but also entirely believable it’s Max Brooks. The author of widely acclaimed World War Z weaves a found journal, snippets of interviews and the odd real life example together to tell the story of the remote eco-community of Greenloop who is isolated after a volcanic eruption and faces a deadly new threat brought on by changes in the ecosystem. It’s a cautionary tale, and a sometimes satirical fable of the dangers of underestimating nature.

Publisher’s summary: As the ash and chaos from Mount Rainier’s eruption swirled and finally settled, the story of the Greenloop massacre has passed unnoticed, unexamined . . . until now.

But the journals of resident Kate Holland, recovered from the town’s bloody wreckage, capture a tale too harrowing – and too earth-shattering in its implications – to be forgotten.

In these pages, Max Brooks brings Kate’s extraordinary account to light for the first time, faithfully reproducing her words alongside his own extensive investigations into the massacre and the beasts behind it, once thought legendary but now known to be terrifyingly real.

Kate’s is a tale of unexpected strength and resilience, of humanity’s defiance in the face of a terrible predator’s gaze, and inevitably, of savagery and death.

Yet it is also far more than that.

Because if what Kate Holland saw in those days is real, then we must accept the impossible. We must accept that the creature known as Bigfoot walks among us – and that it is a beast of terrible strength and ferocity.

Part survival narrative, part bloody horror tale, part scientific journey into the boundaries between truth and fiction, this is a Bigfoot story as only Max Brooks could chronicle it – and like none you’ve ever read before.

The Secret of Cold Hill by Peter James  

Type: Novel (paperback) Publisher: Pan; Main Market edition Release date: 06/25/2020

Den of Geek says: This is the follow up to 2015’s The House on Cold Hill, a supernatural thriller from multi-award winning British crime writer Peter James. It’s a modern take on a classic ghost story set in the Sussex countryside – the sequel sees the haunted Georgian mansion of the first book destroyed and new houses built in its place, where new families face malevolent forces from the past. 

Publisher’s summary: From the number one bestselling author, Peter James, comes The Secret of Cold Hill. The spine-chilling follow-up to The House on Cold Hill. Now a smash-hit stage play.

Cold Hill House has been razed to the ground by fire, replaced with a development of ultra-modern homes. Gone with the flames are the violent memories of the house’s history, and a new era has begun.

Although much of Cold Hill Park is still a construction site, the first two families move into their new houses. For Jason and Emily Danes, this is their forever home, and for Maurice and Claudette Penze-Weedell, it’s the perfect place to live out retirement. Despite the ever present rumble of cement mixers and diggers, Cold Hill Park appears to be the ideal place to live. But looks are deceptive and it’s only a matter of days before both couples start to feel they are not alone in their new homes.

There is one thing that never appears in the estate agent brochures: nobody has ever survived beyond forty in Cold Hill House and no one has ever truly left…

Top New Horror Books In April 2020

The Southern Book Club’s Guide to Slaying Vampires

Type: Novel Publisher: Quirk Books Release Date: 04/07/2020

Den Of Geek says: The latest novel from Grady Hendrix is set in the same world as his masterful horror My Best Friend’s Exorcism, this time focusing on the wives and mothers of Charleston, South Carolina. Occupied with looking after their families and keeping up appearances, one group of women have to step up and fight when a charismatic stranger comes to town. A modern vampire novel packed with heart (and gore) this is another hit from one of the most exciting horror writers around.

Publisher’s summary: Steel Magnolias meets Dracula. A haunting, hair-raising, and ultimately heartwarming story set in the 1990s, the novel follows a women’s true-crime book club that takes it upon themselves to protect their community when they detect a monster in their midst. Deftly pitting Dracula against a seemingly prim and proper group of moms, Hendrix delivers his most complex, chilling, and exhilarating novel yet. 

With Grady’s unique comedic timing and adoration of the horror genre, The Southern Book Club’s Guide to Slaying Vampires is a pure homage to his upbringing, the most famous horror book of all, and something we can all relate to – the joy of reading. 

Eden By Tim Lebbon

Type: Novel Publisher: Titan Books Release Date: 04/07/2020

Den of Geek says: From the author of The Silence (which is basically A Quiet Place, published several years before A Quiet Place came out) comes another eco-horror which sees pollution and climate change force humanity to create locked off zones which are off-limits to people. Eden follows a group of adventurers who break the rules and enter one of the zones where nature has taken hold and begun to rebel. Should appeal to fans of Bird Box and Annihilation.

Publisher’s summary: In a time when Earth’s rising oceans contain enormous islands of refuse, the Amazon rainforest is all-but destroyed, and countless species edge towards extinction, the Virgin Zones were established in an attempt to combat the change. Off-limits to humanity and given back to nature, these thirteen vast areas of land were intended to become the lungs of the world. 

Dylan leads a clandestine team of adventurers into Eden, the oldest of the Zones. Attracted by the challenges and dangers posed by the primal lands, extreme competitors seek to cross them with a minimum of equipment, depending only on their raw skills and courage. Not all survive. 

Also in Dylan’s team is his daughter Jenn, and she carries a secret – Kat, his wife who abandoned them both years ago, has entered Eden ahead of them. Jenn is determined to find her mother, but neither she nor the rest of their tight-knit team are prepared for what confronts them. Nature has returned to Eden in an elemental, primeval way. And here, nature is no longer humanity’s friend. 

Eden is a triumphant return to the genre by one of horror’s most exciting contemporary voices, as Tim Lebbon offers up a page-turning and adrenaline-fuelled race through the deadly world of Eden, poignantly balanced with observations on humanity’s relationship with nature, and each other. Timely and suspenseful, Eden will seed itself in the imagination of the reader and continue to bloom long after the last page. 

The Wise Friend By Ramsey Campbell

Type: Novel Publisher: Flame Tree Press Release date: 04/23/2020

Den Of Geek says: The latest from British horror legend is a mystical tale of the occult which hints at the monstrous. Campbell is regarded by many as one of the most important horror writers of his generation. Influenced by H P Lovecraft and M R James, and influencing many horror writers who came after him, he’s published more than 30 novels. His latest sounds like a treat.

Publisher’s Summary: Patrick Torrington’s aunt Thelma was a successful artist whose late work turned to- wards the occult. While staying with her in his teens he found evidence that she used to visit magical sites. As an adult he discovers her journal of her explorations, and his teenage son Roy becomes fascinated too. 

His experiences at the sites scare Patrick away from them, but Roy carries on the search, together with his new girlfriend. Can Patrick convince his son that his increasingly terrible suspicions are real, or will what they’ve helped to rouse take a new hold on the world?

The Book of Koli – The Rampart Trilogy, Book 1, By M.R. Carey

Type: Novel Publisher: Orbit Release date: 04/14/2020

Den of Geek says: This is the first book in a new trilogy by M.R. Carey who wrote excellent zombie novel The Girl With All The Gifts. This is an eco-horror/sci-fi which sounds like Tim Lebbon’s Eden in reverse – in Carey’s book it’s everything outside a small village that’s a threat – and both books are aimed at fans of Jeff Vandermeer’s Southern Reach trilogy. Little surprise that horror writers are turning their attention to the environment in these frightening times and in Carey’s careful hands (there was an element of nature evolving in Girl With All The Gifts) this should be a new world worth visiting.

Publisher’s summary: EVERYTHING THAT LIVES HATES US . . . Beyond the walls of the small village of Mythen Rood lies an unrecognisable landscape. A place where overgrown forests are filled with choker trees and deadly seeds that will kill you where you stand. And if they don’t get you, the Shunned men will. Koli has lived in Mythen Rood his entire life. He believes the first rule of survival is that you don’t venture too far beyond the walls.

He’s wrong.

The Book of Koli begins a breathtakingly original new trilogy set in a strange and deadly world of our own making.

Top New Horror Books In March 2020

The Deep by Alma Katsu

Type: Novel Publisher: G.P. Putnam’s Sons Release date: 03/10/2020

Den Of Geek says: A ghost story set against the backdrop of the sinking of the Titanic is a strong premise to set out with, from a writer who has good form with mixing horror with history after The Hunger which centres around The Donner Party, a group of pioneers in the middle of the 19th century, some of who resorted to cannibalism when their group got stranded. Alma Katsu is an author who “Makes the supernatural seem possible” according to Publishers Weekly, and the weaving in of real people with this creepy sounding tale of a nurse who survives the Titanic only to meet another passenger who couldn’t possibly have made it out is highly appealing.

Publisher’s summary: This is the only way to explain the series of misfortunes that have plagued the passengers of the ship from the moment they set sail: mysterious disappearances, sudden deaths. Now suspended in an eerie, unsettling twilight zone during the four days of the liner’s illustrious maiden voyage, a number of the passengers – including millionaires Madeleine Astor and Benjamin Guggenheim, the maid Annie Hebbley and Mark Fletcher – are convinced that something sinister is going on . . . And then, as the world knows, disaster strikes.

Years later and the world is at war. And a survivor of that fateful night, Annie, is working as a nurse on the sixth voyage of the Titanic’s sister ship, the Britannic, now refitted as a hospital ship. Plagued by the demons of her doomed first and near fatal journey across the Atlantic, Annie comes across an unconscious soldier she recognises while doing her rounds. It is the young man Mark. And she is convinced that he did not – could not – have survived the sinking of the Titanic…

The Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives in Your Home: A Welcome to Night Vale Novel By Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor

Type: Novel Publisher: Harper Perennial Release date: 03/24/2020

Den Of Geek says: The third novel in the Welcome To Night Vale series, which spun-off the wildly popular podcast of the same name promises more eerie, weird, wistful but wonderful musings delving into the enigmatic character of The Faceless Old Woman and exploring Night Vale’s history. It’s written by Fink and Cranor, the creators of the podcast, and has already garnered widespread acclaim. Fans of Twin Peaks should definitely check out Night Vale.

Publisher’s summary: From the New York Times bestselling authors of Welcome to Night Vale and It Devours! and the creators of the #1 podcast, comes a new novel set in the world of Night Vale and beyond.

In the town of Night Vale, there’s a faceless old woman who secretly lives in everyone’s home, but no one knows how she got there or where she came from . . . until now. Told in a series of eerie flashbacks, the story of The Woman is revealed, as she guides, haunts and sabotages an unfortunate Night Vale resident named Craig. In the end, her dealings with Craig and her history in nineteenth century Europe will come together in the most unexpected and horrifying way.

Part The Haunting of Hill House, part The Count of Monte Cristo, and 100% about a faceless old woman who secretly lives in your home.

Cursed: An Anthology edited by Marie O’Regan and Paul Kane

Type: Anthology Publisher: Titan books Release date: 03/03/2020

Den Of Geek says: some of our favourite horror writers assemble for this collection of stories surrounding the concept of the curse. Some are updates of well known fairy tales, some are brand new mythologies and all come together in a magical, mythical, mystical collection that should appeal to fans of dark fables and traditional folk horror. Authors include Neil Gaiman, M R Carey, Christina Henry and Tim Lebbon.

Publisher’s Summary: It’s a prick of blood, the bite of an apple, the evil eye, a wedding ring or a pair of red shoes. Curses come in all shapes and sizes, and they can happen to anyone, not just those of us with unpopular stepparents…

Here you’ll find unique twists on curses, from fairy tale classics to brand-new hexes of the modern world – expect new monsters and mythologies as well as twists on well-loved fables. Stories to shock and stories of warning, stories of monsters and stories of magic. Twenty timeless folktales old and new

Top New Horror Books in February 2020

Deathless Divide by Justina Ireland

Type: Novel Publisher: Balzer + Bray Release date: 2/4/20

Den of Geek says: Justina Ireland’s Dread Nation was one of the most-talked-about YA debuts of 2018, and for good reason! The story of Black zombie hunters in an alternate Reconstruction-era America is already one of the best premises of all time, and Ireland more than follows through on the promise of kickass, sociopolitically cathartic potential—with Dread Nation, and now with Deathless Divide. (We love this one so much, it’s also on our Top New YA Books of February 2020 list.)

Publisher’s summary: The sequel to the New York Times bestselling epic Dread Nation is an unforgettable journey of revenge and salvation across a divided America.

After the fall of Summerland, Jane McKeene hoped her life would get simpler: Get out of town, stay alive, and head west to California to find her mother.

But nothing is easy when you’re a girl trained in putting down the restless dead, and a devastating loss on the road to a protected village called Nicodemus has Jane questioning everything she thought she knew about surviving in 1880s America.

What’s more, this safe haven is not what it appears—as Jane discovers when she sees familiar faces from Summerland amid this new society. Caught between mysteries and lies, the undead, and her own inner demons, Jane soon finds herself on a dark path of blood and violence that threatens to consume her.

But she won’t be in it alone.

Katherine Deveraux never expected to be allied with Jane McKeene. But after the hell she has endured, she knows friends are hard to come by—and that Jane needs her too, whether Jane wants to admit it or not.

Watching Jane’s back, however, is more than she bargained for, and when they both reach a breaking point, it’s up to Katherine to keep hope alive—even as she begins to fear that there is no happily-ever-after for girls like her.

Buy Deathless Divide by Justina Ireland on Amazon.

The Boatman’s Daughter by Andy Davidson

Type: Novel Publisher: MCD x FSG Release date: 2/11/20

Den of Geek says: If it’s good enough for Paul Tremblay, it’s good enough for us! We love a good atmospheric horror read, and The Boatman’s Daughter sounds like it has more atmosphere in one page than most books do in their entirety.

Publisher’s summary:  A “lush nightmare” (Paul Tremblay) of a supernatural thriller about a young woman facing down ancient forces in the depths of the bayou.

Ever since her father was killed when she was just a child, Miranda Crabtree has kept her head down and her eyes up, ferrying contraband for a mad preacher and his declining band of followers to make ends meet and to protect an old witch and a secret child from harm.

But dark forces are at work in the bayou, both human and supernatural, conspiring to disrupt the rhythms of Miranda’s peculiar and precarious life. And when the preacher makes an unthinkable demand, it sets Miranda on a desperate, dangerous path, forcing her to consider what she is willing to sacrifice to keep her loved ones safe.

With the heady mythmaking of Neil Gaiman and the heartrending pacing of Joe Hill, Andy Davidson spins a thrilling tale of love and duty, of loss and discovery. The Boatman’s Daughter is a gorgeous, horrifying novel, a journey into the dark corners of human nature, drawing our worst fears and temptations out into the light.

Read The Boatman’s Daughter by Andy Davidson on Amazon.

The Sun Down Motel by Simone St. James

Type: Novel Publisher: Berkley Release date: 2/18/20

Den of Geek says: Who doesn’t love a good creepy motel story? From the author who brought us The Broken Girls, comes another female-driven foray into horror mystery. If you’ve been digging Nancy Drew or love Sharp Objects, there’s more where that came from.

Publisher’s summary: Something hasn’t been right at the roadside Sun Down Motel for a very long time, and Carly Kirk is about to find out why in this chilling new novel from the USA Today bestselling and award-winning author of The Broken Girls.

Upstate New York, 1982. Viv Delaney wants to move to New York City, and to help pay for it she takes a job as the night clerk at the Sun Down Motel in Fell, New York. But something isnʼt right at the motel, something haunting and scary.

Upstate New York, 2017. Carly Kirk has never been able to let go of the story of her aunt Viv, who mysteriously disappeared from the Sun Down before she was born. She decides to move to Fell and visit the motel, where she quickly learns that nothing has changed since 1982. And she soon finds herself ensnared in the same mysteries that claimed her aunt.

Read The Sun Down Motel by Simone St. James on Amazon.

The post Top New Horror Books in July 2020 appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/2Bhu8Di

[atlaswriting]

“What are we doing, Elise?” I watch as Abram’s chest deflates, air knocked completely from his lungs. He gives into the weight crippling his shoulders and lies back on the blanket.  Unmoving eyes stare at the starry night and I wish I could tell him something, anything was better than silence. But the words scrape the inside of my throat raw and even if I try to open my mouth and speak nothing would come out.

Abram tugs me against him tight, snaking his arms around my ribs like ivy, fingers digging in and twisted my shirt.

I can feel his heart beating against his ribs, strong and steady, working albeit struggling. He’s so close that I worry the sound of my own unsteady heart will give me away.

( I wonder if he can hear the way it only beats his name. )

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into my neck when the shaking starts to subside. Still, he holds on tight and I refuse to be the first to let go.

When I feel his arms begin to loosen I pull away, relaxing onto my calves. Tenderly my thumb wipes away stray tears from his good eye and the dark purples of the other reflect the sort of night sky I never want to see again.

If there’s anything I’ve learned it’s that: Abram knows forgiveness like air. Absolution sculpts his bones the way brutality has designed mine. Violence sits heavy in my ribs, sticky and black, infecting all the parts of me that touch it. From the moment I was born my heart’s been a war-drum, tirelessly beating to the sound of the battle I wage not only on myself but on everyone around me.

I stare back at him, not my first casualty—but the only one that matters. Soft boy, whose hands fit tenderness like a glove—I can see all my dark seeping out of me, clinging to his skin like a new home.

“Abram,” his name leaves my mouth like a secret, “you—you deserve—I’m not,” I try to find the words but they fall from my lips carelessly.

He’s close now. Too close and discomfort settles into my stomach. I try and will my hands to push some space between us, to salvage what of our friendship hasn’t been demolished.

That’s the thing, though—Abram and I were never just friends. We were inevitable, two comets always meant to collide.

I scoop my dignity into my hands, try to swallow it down and I move back. Abram follows his body drawn to mine, wordless and panting.

“Tell me we shouldn’t.” He challenges. This isn’t a question and I realize I have no answer.

I part my lips to form my mouth around the lie, to save us both, but I can’t. His finger touches my chin and gently leads me back to him—a north star, always pulling me back home. His lips part like a hungry thing and kisses me soft, at first, but then hard—desperate, broken, wanting.

Before I realize, Abram’s on top of me, with one hand poised at my waist and the other holding himself ( barely ) above. If he’s in pain it doesn’t show, even as my fingers coil into his shirt and pull him down. My legs wrap around his hips and I’ve never wanted anything more than this—more than him.

“Sylvia,” he sighs into my neck, followed by his teeth. I almost don’t catch it—and when I do, I half consider ignoring it. He hasn’t stopped kissing my neck and only when I push him away does he look up at me.

“We need to stop—we shouldn’t—,” the words stutter out of my unsure mouth, “I am not her, Abram,” I find my voice, lost somewhere between the cracks in my heart, “I’m never going to be.”

His brows crease together and then raise when he realizes what he has done, “I didn’t mean it that way, Elise, I know you’re not. It was an accident.”

Reaching for my blanket, I rouse myself to my feet, despite shaky legs I find my ground, “I know. It always is with me, isn’t it?” A smile spreads my lips apart, though lacks the humor to be genuine. “I’m going to bed, Bram,” I tell him, “I suggest you do the same.”

“Elise, wait—,” but I don’t. I gather the pieces of my heart and try to leave with what little pride I have left intact.

♡ ♡ ♡

( text messages: Sylvia & Kai )

Are you still mad at me?

( message read, 9:53 am. )

Look – I said I was sorry, I lost my phone. Honest.

( message read, 10:02 am )

Kai… Please. God, I’m sorry. A thousand times, I’m sorry.

Kai: Oh, lol. So I’m Kai again?

Kai: Quit yanking me around, Syl. Wtf is going on?

Kai: Are you here? Spying on me. Is this some perverted game?

This isn’t a game! This was never a game. I’m not there, I just know people there.

You told me your name. Christmas, two years ago.

Kai: I would remember that.

Do you remember what else we talked that Christmas?

No? We talked about moving to California together. Do you remember the kids’ names we picked out?

Sebastian and Tamsin.

But you seem to think you remember if you told me your name? That’s a little suspicious. What is it YOUR hiding, Kai?

Kai: Just because I don’t remember all that, this very second, that’s your only point?

Kai: It’s my name. I’d remember.

Why would I lie about this?

Kai: Why would you lie about anything? I don’t know.

Kai: I’m starting to think that maybe I don’t know you like I thought I did.

Kai: I’m starting to think I don’t know you at ALL.

Kai: I need a break. I’ll text you, don’t text me.

K.

♡ ♡ ♡

As a child, I used to pull dirt over ant hills—blocking their only exit, deciding that if I couldn’t leave, neither could they. From the time I was born, all my hands knew how to do was destroy. First my parent’s marriage, then innocent ants. Now Abram.

I stare at him from across the library, shoulders hunched over the book he was reading. His free hand kept tapping the screen of his phone on then tapping it off.

My stomach twists and I try and force myself to go over there but my arrogance keeps me cemented in my seat.

“What’s wrong with Walmart?” Sophie slides into the seat next to me and loudly drops her bag on the table, “Can you believe he and Jason fought?” she laughs as she searches her bag for her books and then opens one, carelessly she begins to highlight over random lines in the text, “I mean again. What do you think it could have been about?”

When I choose not to answer, I notice Sophie’s jaw falls slack from the corner of my eye, “It wasn’t you, was it?” My neck snaps toward her so fast I can feel the crack, “oh my god, Lissa!” She shrieks loud, receiving shushes not only from me, but several other students and Mrs. Martinez, the librarian. I take a careful glance toward Abram who peaked up for only a moment before burying his head back down.

“Did you have sex with him?” She asks, “Was it good? Was he big?”

My cheeks burn red hot and I wish I could fold in on myself. My careless reactions give me away and I bury my face in my hands. “It was an accident, Soph, I didn’t mean to—we were drunk,” I whisper harshly, “Jason doesn’t know. Please don’t tell me. Please.” I beg, reaching for her hand and curling my fingers tightly around them.

Her lips press into a tight line, before the seriousness fades into a smile, “Was it good?”

My lips twitch into a smile, “I think so? I don’t remember—but, god he is a good kisser.”

“Tell me everything.”

And I do.

♡ ♡ ♡

Abram slams a tray down on the table making Sophie, Jason and I jump.

“I know it’s you, Sophie.” He spits out, malice coating his tone.

Her brows crease as she takes a bite of her yogurt and considers him, “I mean, I’m sure it was… But what are you talking about, Abram?”

“You just did it!” He shouts, “You just called me Abram.” He sits heavily down beside Jason and points at her.

“Doesn’t everyone…” she looks around the table, brows creased, “Are you high right now? Could you, like, maybe get me some? I have this super long quiz in—,”

An exasperated sigh releases from his mouth, “Sophie—unless I should call you something else—”

She shrugs, “I’ll let you call me anything.” She interrupts him by blowing a kiss.

I watch as Abram’s face passes through three level of confusion and as he stands I do too. I glance at Jason, “I’m going to go check on him—he doesn’t look right.”

Reaching the hallway in just enough time to see his fingers twist into a fist but before they could collide with the lockers, I grab his elbow, “Follow me,” I order, too afraid of the anger that curls around his arm to let go.

I lead us back to my room and lock the door after we both enter.

“What is wrong with you?” I ask.

“She’s lying to me.”

“Sophie?”

“No, Elise, not Sophie,” he snaps. I sit on the floor with my back to my bed, forcing Abram down beside me. “Sylvia. Sylvia’s lying to me—I think she has been for a long time and I’ve just been too stupid to see it. I thought, maybe, Sophie was Sylvia.”

I can’t help but snort and he throws an annoyed look in my direction, “I’m sorry, but seriously? I mean Sophie can be a bitch, but she’s not like that at all…” I tell him, a sharp pain in my chest reminds me that I am.

Anger melts to sadness and Abram leans his head on my shoulder. Too many emotions held together by too thin skin, I wrap one arm around him, hoping that if he couldn’t contain the storm himself, maybe I could help.

“Maybe Sylvia’s just… scared,” I say, “You’ve seen parts of her I’m sure no one ever has. Maybe she’s afraid that when you see it all you’ll leave. She’s probably terrified you won’t think she’s good enough.” I force myself to swallow hard to keep myself from crying, “not everyone is as open with their heart as you, Abram.”

“Elise,” he leans his head up to look at me, “she’s lying to me—I know she is. And… I’m starting to think it might not be worth it anymore.” His fingers wind between mine, “If she wasn’t holding my heart hostage I could be with someone else—someone tangible…”

“Who?” I ask, without meaning.

He’s quiet for a while, straightens himself out so he’s sitting taller than me. I turn away from him, stare at my closet because maybe, I think, if I ground myself I could stop the world from shaking me off. Abram whispers his next words, pressing his lips just below my ear, “don’t pretend you don’t notice the way I look at you.”

“Abram…”

He turns my attention back to him and kisses me. I throw my body on top of his, the warmth of my heart outweighing my pride as I settle myself in his lap, fingers running through his hair. I kiss him hard—hard enough to lull the guilt that begins to seep out of me back into its hiding place, my teeth tug at his bottom lip and he grips my hips with such strength I crumble into his touch.

His fingers start exploring underneath my shirt, sliding up my back, daring to touch every inch of me. Reckless abandon forces me to push him away, panting heavily.

“I can’t keep doing this,” I blurt out. I find my footing and back away from him, hands out to keep him at a distance. He scrambles to his feet, crossing what little space there was.

He presses my back against the wall; hands once again drawn to my waist. Fingertips dig in—promising to leave bruises I wouldn’t mind having, kissing me hard enough to take my breath away. I whine against his mouth, every bit of my body wants to give in—my arms itch to wrap around him, to pull him so close that our bodies won’t end but my hands are planted firmly against his chest and push him away once more, “It’s not fair,” I say, breathlessly, “I told you last night: I’m never going to be Sylvia, you can’t kiss me to forget her—that isn’t how love works.”

He opens his mouth to speak but I don’t let him, “I’m not going to be your safety net. I’m not going to throw my heart at you just for you to toss it aside the second Sylvia shows you the least bit of affection. I’m not your back up plan. You’re kissing me, Abram, but you’re thinking about her.”

I slide by him toward the door and open it, urging him out, “I love you, Abram,” I say softly, the admission knocks the wind out of me, “but you only love me when she’s not there.”

He doesn’t move, mouth parted like he wants to argue—but we both know it’ll be a lie.

“Do us both the favor and go.”