#it was one thing to break up him and drac

[freaky-flawless]

Does Mattel think people dislike Clawd?

Do people dislike Clawd???

[brothermouse-skeleton]

One thing about Dracula is he's trying to play it cool but he's gotta be FREAKING OUT.

Mina keeps popping up to stop him from eating Lucy. When Mina's gone, some random ass guy (Van Helsing) shows up knowing exactly how to repel him. Turns out, Van Helsing is an old friend of Drac's new neighbor Dr. Seward, who once counted the random girl Dracula chose to eat. Then, some American starts lurking around shooting at him whenever he's a bat, turns out that's another of his snack's former boyfriends. Turns out all these people are friends with Mina because of course they are. Then he finds out that Mina's married to his LAWYER? Who he thought was dead?

He decides to get to the bottom of all of this, he breaks into their house and comes across...notes. Notes on everything he's done so far, itemized, categorized and dated. Notes on where he's been what he's done, who he's seen, everything. Notes on what works against him, his powers, his weaknesses, they know more about him than he does.

It's suddenly clear to him that these people want him dead, and only their caution has kept him alive so far.

Then these people in one night suddenly wipe almost all of his lairs off the board and his wimpy ass lawyer tries to cut him open with a big ass knife. He only survived by slim luck.

Drac talks a big game, but he's gotta be sweating

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

hc for adrian having a girlfriend or s/o prior to his mother's death. they're human and maybe her apprentince or something. and the church takes her too, but before they can burn her at the stake, dracula shows up and rescues her because he knows lisa was fond of her. during adrians and draculas fight maybe she interbenes at a critical moments so drac doesnt kill him and alucard gets away but she's now a prisoner of dracula w/n his castle. and maybe she befriends the generals?

A/N: Aw, man. Sometimes I wonder if Lisa did have an apprentice, that maybe Dracula wouldn’t be as anti-human as he ended up being, or if she could start to turn him to see the error of his ways sometime before Alucard and Dracula end up in Adrian’s childhood bedroom. 

Apologies for the delays in updates. But my brain went WILD with this request so it’s a long one, I hope that makes up for the less frequent posting. Anyway, I hope you enjoy these somewhat bittersweet (then depressing then bittersweet again) headcanons! (Also this is unbeta-ed and prob grammatically messy as hell, so read at your own expense lol.) 

Word Count: 6.2k 

TW: Canon Typical Descriptions of Graphic Violence; Brief Mentions of Sexual Violence; Canon Death; Descriptions of Torture (the church is high-key fucked up here)  

Adrian W/ A Human S/O Reader (Who’s Also Lisa’s Apprentice, Prior to Her Death):   

━━━━━ ❂ ━━━━━   

The Beginning:   

Okay, so let’s get one thing straight… FIRST OF ALL, Lisa would adore you!!! Like, you make her baby boy happy and you’re smart??? What else is there to it? And then to top it all off, you’re super sweet and kind and interested in learning about medicine and the world around you!   

Lisa meets you once over dinner and she’s already planning the wedding in her head.   

Adrian is smitten, because of course he is, but in an adorable, somewhat restrained way. He doesn't have a lot (ahem, ANY) experience in this department, so he’s hesitant to take things forward with you, mainly because he doesn’t want to scare you off or make you suspicious about what he is. (It’s hard to make out with someone when you have two big vampire fangs in the front.)   

Adrian is young, like you. So, on top of all the complications, he feels no need to rush things. Sure, he’s heard a few whispers here and there about Dracula having a son, a son who according to rumors and gossiping villagers is to rise as the antithesis of Dracula. It’s all silly superstition, but it does stay fixed in the back of his mind. What would this future legacy mean for his relationship with you? And, should it ever come to pass, would you even be a part of it?   

That’s neither here nor there though, and in the meantime, the two of you simply enjoy the talking phase. You get to learn more about each other's interests, and beliefs, but mostly, you spend time in proximity to one another— you remain busy attending to his mother, learning all you can about healing while he, just a table over, spends his time rereading one of his many favorite tomes.   

I honestly don’t see you meeting Dracula until you and Adrian are like a fully committed couple. I’m pretty sure you would have to have been Lisa’s apprentice for a while and/or lived with the Tepes in their Lupu cottage for months before Lisa finally breaks through Dracula’s protests and makes him officially meet you.   

I don’t think that meeting would happen in Lupu either. No, I imagine it would have to take place at Dracula’s castle, just in case you were to freak out, you’d have no way of escaping and telling any others.   

I can almost see your reaction being similar to Lisa’s upon first entering the castle, especially if Adrian is already at your side. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure Dracula is terrifying, but there’s also a giant telescope in the next room calling your name so….   

Much to Adrian’s relief, this newfound information doesn’t make you frightened of him at all, if anything, it simply reignites your fascination with him. You throw rapid-fire questions at him: If he's part vampire, how come you’ve seen him eating human food? Does he need both food and blood to satisfy each of his halves? If he needs blood, he could take some of yours you know…   

Your penchant for learning softens Dracula a little. For a brief time, he wonders if, perhaps, it was as Lisa said, that the humans could change, that humanity was changing for the better.   

He sits across from you at their grand dinner table, watching you intensely as you and Adrian talk about the recent literature you’ve read. You’d no doubt feel Dracula’s all-powerful gaze on you, making you turn to him and… Wait, did you just smile?!   

You’ve got guts, Dracula will give you that.   

Knowing the family secret, you can’t exactly break up with Adrian, nor do you have any desire to. I wonder if Dracula would have rings made for the two of you, maybe commission a new family portrait or two.   

You stay with Lisa in Lupu during Dracula's travels. Adrian is around, although he's always off between the castle and their cottage, so you never feel entirely alone or vulnerable. Your life is perfect! It’s better than you could have ever imagined!   

That is, until…   

━━━━━ ● ━━━━━   

The During:   

When the Church comes to take Lisa, you beg them to see reason. You cry and scream, hell, you even try to fight your way out at one point, only for both you and Dr. Tepes to be overpowered by the Church’s henchman.   

The two of you are taken, violently, to Targoviste, where you’re thrown into dark, damp cells with little to no light. Freezing, you huddle together for warmth, each trying your best to reassure the other, that all will turn out well. Adrian was still around, right? He’ll have to come home to find you missing, he’ll come and rescue you. And Dracula was due to return soon, correct? Surely, they’ll come. Surely, they’ll stop this madness.   

It’s a few days later, after hours of interrogation and brutal torture that you realize with a heavy heart, that no one is coming to rescue you. And what’s worse, that these so-called men of the cloth cannot and will not listen to reason. You’re starved and beaten, your hair is sliced off so close to your skin, that they take bits of your scalp with it in some places. And despite initially being imprisoned with Lisa, you find yourself being separated from her for longer periods.   

The men try everything to get you to turn on her. They tell you if you recant her wicked ways now, say she used her evil magic to trick you, your sentencing will be easier. You could still live— they dangle betrayal in front of you as a last lifeline. You don’t take it of course. You love Mrs. Tepes, and you know she’s no witch. You muster what little might you have left, spitting at the men as you tell them to go to hell. You swear she’s innocent, that she knows nothing. Hell, at one point, you find yourself confessing to having manipulated her! You don’t think they buy it though, if the poor doctor’s screams from down the hall are anything to go by.   

The night they light the pyre, the night of Lisa’s murder, you’re sick on more than one occasion. You scream your throat raw, begging them to burn you first! That she was innocent! That you corrupted her! That it was all your doing! But to no avail.   

In a scene that could only rival the Crucifixion of Christ himself, you look up through tear-soaked eyes to see Lisa, enshrouded in flames, begging Dracula to show mercy on her killers, to forgive them, that they know not what they do. “I know it's not your fault,” she cries out, “But, if you can hear me, they don't know what they're doing! Be better than them. Please!”   

You sob and wail, watching as your would-be mother-in-law is burned alive. You scream out for someone, anyone! To please help you, save you! With Lisa’s last words echoing in your mind, you can’t help but fear Adrian’s and his Father’s reactions, should they find you both killed.

Oh, gods…   

You don’t know what makes you feel sicker… The barbaric display you’re witnessing now or the hypothetical one that threatens to wipe out all living people in Wallachia once Dracula learns of what’s happened. You need not wait long for an answer.   

In a fury of fire and grandeur, Dracula’s head appears, molded in flame, demanding to know what has happened to his wife. You cry out to him, apologizing profusely, saying you begged them to burn you first! You scream out how they refused to see reason, they killed her for helping! Injudiciously, in your indignant anger, you plead with Dracula to release his fury on the priests who did this, to send them to hell to be tortured for eternity for this unforgivable transgression!   

With the silent fury of a gathering storm, Dracula’s fiery visage speaks calmly as his anger grows concertedly less. "I give you one year Wallachians,” he finally decides. “You have one year to make your peace and remove any marks you have made upon the land. One year, and I'll wipe all human life from the land of Wallachia. You took that which I love, so I will take from you everything you have and everything you have ever been. One year."   

No sooner than he spits out the words, a coil of fire bursts from his image, winding itself around your body. The guards surrounding you gasp and flee, avoiding the coil’s tail as it whips back and forth, hoisting you into the air.   

The fiery coil burns your skin, and the smell of even more burnt flesh makes you gag. If you had any bile left over at all, you’re certain it’d come up yet again. The pain is like a thousand stinging nettles and boiling water constricting your arms and midriff all at once. Your vision grows blurry as you feel your body move through the air, your nostrils taking in one last wretched breath of sulfur and smoke.   

━━━━━ ◉ ━━━━━   

The After — Part One:   

When you awake you find yourself laid, practically bare, a heap on the floor within Dracula’s castle— the evil Lord himself only feet away, raging over his magic well— as shards of his magic mirror whip around him at incredible speeds. Your head is pounding, it feels as if it might explode, and your arms… Fuck.   

Where the supernatural coil grabbed you, your skin was red and raw, small pockets of blisters already beginning to form. Your arms tremble uncontrollably as you try to move them, the pain that’s consuming your nerves is far too intense to hold them steady as you sit up into an upright position.   

It doesn’t feel real; nothing feels real. It feels like a nightmare. It had all been perfect, everything was perfect— you all were happy! How did it turn into such horror so fast?   

Shakily, you rise to your feet and clutch the remains of your clothes to your chest in an attempt to preserve your modesty, although it’s more of a subconscious act on your part. Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion, yourself included. It’s like the air is heavier here somehow, its weight filling your lungs and weighing you down.   

A loud noise shocks you back to the present, nearly making you stumble over in fright. At least you would have, had Adrian not used his superspeed to catch you before you fell. One of his gloved hands grasps your left arm directly over the burn, causing you to let out a hiss. His rectangular eyes look wider than you’ve ever seen as he releases his grip, looking over your battered form.   

“(Y/N) ...” Adrian says, his voice serious and quiet, barely a whisper.   

You shake your head furiously, unable to trust your ability to speak without breaking. Upon Adrian’s gentle insistence, you feel your mouth opening, and the words slipping out, scraping against the back of your reddened throat as they exit your frail body.   

“They killed her, Adrian…” you whisper, your voice quivering. “I, we tried to stop them, they just wouldn’t listen!” Somehow, your eyes begin to water again, despite your earlier certainty that your body had no water nor tears left in it at all.   

“Once she realized they wouldn't listen to reason, she lied and told them I was innocent. She told them she had manipulated me, that I was just a child, that I didn’t know what I was doing, that she never got the chance to teach me!” A feeling of guilt consumes you as you speak the words aloud, and soon enough, your body is once again plagued by uncontrollable sobs.   

Adrian listens intently to your words, his brows furrowed. You watch through teary eyes as a range of emotions flash across his face: anger, hurt, pain, sorrow, and finally… acceptance. Your beloved hardens his gaze, choking down whatever grief he may be feeling. At the present, Adrian knows, there are more pressing matters at hand.   

You follow Adrian’s steely gaze back, seeing his Father where he is bent over his summoning circle, cursing in a language that is foreign to you before he switches back to Romanian.   

“One year! It will take me one year to summon an army from the guts of Hell itself!” Dracula proclaims, promising to enact vengeance for the death of his love.   

“No.” Adrian counters, slipping out of your grasp.   

“Adrian,” you whisper, warningly. “Don’t—”   

“What do you mean, ‘no’? That woman was the only reason on Earth for me to tolerate human life!”  Dracula retaliates, enraged his son could even conceive of such lenience.   

“Then find the one who did the deed,” Alucard proposes. “If you set loose an army of the night on Wallachia, you cannot undo it, and many thousands of people just as innocent as her will suffer and die.”   

“There are no innocents! Not anymore! Any one of them could have stood up and said, ‘No, we won't behave like animals anymore.’"   

“(Y/N) did.” Adrian points out. “She tried to take all the blame, in an attempt to save Mother’s life.”   

Dracula looks over at you with blood-red eyes, contempt clear on his face. “And yet,” he snarls, “Here she stands, and my Wife, your Mother does not!” He hisses the last word, livid that out of the two of you, you were the one who survived.   

With large, fearful eyes, you watch as Adrian closes the gap between him and his Father.   

“I won't let you do it. I grieve with you, but I won't let you commit genocide.”   

“Adrian,” you warn again.   

The next bit happened all so quickly.   

Faster than you could blink, you watch, helpless, frozen in horror as Adrian charges his father, his longsword drawn. Despite their vampiric speed being unrecognizable to the untrained human eye, you swear you watch the scene unfold in slow motion. Adrian charges first, but Dracula, roaring in a fit of rage, counters faster— his Father’s elongated claws slash diagonally across Adrian’s chest, before his fist pauses, still embedded deep within your lover’s gut.   

You don’t have time to think before you act. To you, Adrian has the abilities of a god, but to his Father… It was clear there’d be no match. You have no clue how you got your hands on it, no idea as to how you even managed a successful hit, but the next thing you know, a triangular shard of magic mirror is impaled in Great Lord Dracula’s back, put there by your very hand.   

Too terrified to even breathe, the only sound you can hear beyond your racing pulse is a wet, gory squelch as Dracula retracts his claws from Adrian’s body. You hear the spray of blood before you see it, a rush of bright red blood gushes onto the marble floor between Dracula and his son.   

Standing at his impressive full height, Dracula turns ever so slowly, ever so menacingly, to face you. His pupils are that of a blood moon, his sclera so bloodshot they practically look as black as night. In that second, you know you’ve fucked up.   

You cower as Dracula raises one hand to you, instinctively shielding your neck from his nasty bloodied talons. With surprisingly repressed strength, Dracula backhands you, the force sending you flying backward, smashing into the base of one of the curved bookshelves lining the walls of his summoning room.   

With his focus still on you, Dracula stalks toward you. Knowing it’s now or never, you scream at Adrian to flee. “Run!” The words rip out of your raw throat, sounding like an eleventh commandment.   

You see Adrian, previously stunned by his Father’s disregard for his life, holding together the gaping wound across his chest. He has no time to even spare you, his beloved, a last look before evaporating into clouds, his cloud of bloodied mist bolting for the door, fleeing as fast as his injured state would allow him.   

Dracula only turns to watch as his son, his very possibly fatally wounded son, flees the confines of his castle. For a moment it is silent— only the sound of both yours and Dracula’s heaving breaths echo across the chamber.   

Clenching his clawed fingers into a fist, Dracula says nothing as he too makes his way to the castle doors, leaving your bruised and broken body alone in the dark.   

━━━━━ ❍ ━━━━━   

The After — Part Two:   

Somehow, Christ only knows, you find your way to one of Lisa’s old labs and do a half-assed job of patching yourself up. You find your burns and dislocated shoulder to be the most painful of injuries.    

Thankfully, Lisa had taught you enough about setting a patient’s shoulder that you managed to smash it into an adjacent wall, popping your joint back in yourself. The burns you wrap in honey and milk-soaked linen gauze, wincing every time the bandages brush against your skin. It’s awful work, slow work too, but you must have managed it alright because you find yourself patched up and passed out in one of the castle’s kitchens a few hours (or days? had it been days?) after that.   

You eat raw vegetables and berries— nothing that requires cooking. Lord knows you couldn't prepare anything successfully now even if you were to try. Eating your foraged meal in silence you debate your next steps. Do you go back home? Would your family even welcome you home after your long and unexplained absence? And if they, along with all the humans in Wallachia were ultimately to be driven from the land, did it matter anyway?   

‘Oh god,’ you think. You have to warn them, have to make them flee before a year is up. But where would you go? Where could you go? Greater Styria was a possibility, although it was not by any means an easy journey, and the climate there was much colder than your folks were used to here. You shakily rise to your feet and set out to find a map within one of the Castle’s many libraries.   

After a good night’s rest, you find your mindset with a newfound determination: you will go home. You were going to get your family on the move and then… Then, you’d come back here.   

You knew, in all likelihood, that returning to Dracula’s castle after the fact entailed certain death. But you also knew, things would get worse if he were to be left alone.   

Dracula may not have ever loved you for a daughter-in-law. Hell, he may not have ever loved anyone aside from Mrs. Tepes, but you promised her while huddling together that first night in those dingy cells that no matter what happened, should either of you get out alive, you would not leave Adrian and Vlad. “They need humans, (Y/N),” Lisa coughed into your ear. “And most importantly, humanity needs them.”   

Dracula would resent your company, he would want to be rid of you. But you could not be rid of him, not after what Lisa had asked of you.   

‘Besides,’ you thought, ‘Nobody should have to grieve alone.’   

The journey back home to your parents is majorly uneventful. Sure, it was touch and go for a while, your body was exhausted after the ordeal you endured, and your wounds had gotten infected once or twice. Thankfully, you had the mind to pack with you any potential treatments you might need.   

It felt good to be home, to be amongst family again. You couldn’t stop crying and hugging everyone when you first arrived. You kept the details to a minimum but made it clear they needed to be the hell out of Wallachia before a year. You told them you had found an apprenticeship, that the woman was kind to you, but while in Targoviste, you saw the burning of a witch, and soon after the face of Satan himself appeared in flames, threatening the crowd. It caused a panic, you see, and you had gotten trampled in the process.   

You didn’t bother to explain that the woman you were learning under was this so-called witch and that this Satanic figure was her husband. Nor did you tell them of your half-inhuman partner. You knew had you told the family the whole truth, they might have cast you out as a devil worshiper and a liar and choose not to heed your words.   

Your warnings spread through your extended family like how ivy creeps up a stone wall. A fair part of your relatives in the country believed you enough to agree to uproot their lives and settle outside of Wallachia: some settled on Syria, others had decided on Greece, Egypt, or Rome. The more skeptical ones who hemmed and hawed over the validity of your claims agreed to move into the countryside, a decent distance from any major Wallachian city or village.   

When you were certain they’d heed your words, you told them you could not stay with them, your Mother wept for three straight days and your Father could do little to console her. As much as it broke your family’s heart, you knew that your need to return to Castlevania was larger than yours. You weren't just doing it for your family, you were doing it for every family across the land. You couldn't be selfish. Mrs. Tepes was the most selfless woman you had met, and she taught you well. If you meant what you said to her when you first met, that you wanted to help people, you would need to buck up and accept the consequences of that.   

Your journey back to the castle was much more melancholy than your journey home. You could almost feel the whispers of the tortured souls Dracula had slain before blowing cold air into your ears, begging you to turn back. Nevertheless, you continued. You entered Castlevania to find you were alone, however, that would not be the case for long.   

Months later you had fallen into somewhat of a predictable routine within the castle and its new occupants. Dracula had recruited two humans to serve as his war planners— men by the names of Hector and Isaac, respectively. You appreciate the levity Hector, and his undead pets bring, and you admire the intelligence and loyalty Isaac has. You just wish they weren’t going along with Dracula’s plan.   

You tread carefully as you find the time to express to each of his Generals that you wish they wouldn’t go through with this plan. You explain humans are not the kind of species to give in to subjugation, they will revolt eventually. You suggest the vampires come up with some sort of tit-for-tat system with the humans instead like, for example, promised blood servants would equal vampiric protection for that territory.  

It’s safe to say no one is impressed with your centrist ideals, so eventually stop taking part in the conversation. You silently hang around Hector, and just listen with a sorrowful expression, satisfied with knowing that if you can’t change the Generals' minds, you can, at the very least, make them somewhat uncomfortable.  

When Carmilla arrives, you’re immediately put off by her little display of insolence. Unlike yours, her dissent doesn’t seem to come from a place of concern. You make a mental note to keep an eye on her.  

It’s during the General's next argument that you receive a ray of hope: “We are quite certain that Alucard sleeps at Gresit.”  

You feel your body grow lighter.  

“So, that means,” you speak aloud to yourself more so to anyone else, “Adrian is alive?”  

You’re met with a handful of annoyed glares from the other vampires as Isaac continues: “And that there was recently a Belmont there.”  

Upon hearing Carmilla berate the others for not sending night creatures to the ancestral Belmont home, your smile falls and your improved mood falters. These Belmonts were famous monster hunters, famous enough to frighten your current vampire company. That means, if there was a Belmont in Gresit, at the same time as Adrian, as Alucard, whatever the hell he’s going by these days, it could prove disastrous for your love. For all you know, he’s still recovering from the wounds dealt to him by his Father. And if this Belmont, this monster hunter strikes first and asks questions later, he may accidentally kill the only living vampire in existence who stands against the very nature of this war.  

‘How ironic,’ you think solemnly. Just as fast as the universe gives you hope, it rips it away once more.  

You excuse yourself, and make your way towards Hector’s forge, aiming to distract your distraught mind with some cute reanimated pets.  

Shortly thereafter, Hector joins you. He asks if you truly did not know Dracula’s son was still alive. You shake your head ‘no’, telling him how you had prayed every past night to any God who would listen, that they would send their holy armies and angels to guard him, but no, you had mostly just feared he was dead.  

You spend the rest of the night talking to Hector about Alucard, Adrian as you knew him. How smart he was, how much the two of you used to laugh, and how much he looked just like his Mother.  

“Perhaps that’s why,” Hector supposes, “Dracula could no longer bear to see him.”  

You say perchance he’s right, conveniently leaving out the part where the Father and Son duo almost fought to the death right in front of you.  

The conversation with Hector reignites something within you. You feel as if you had been praying all this time for an answer, and this was it. Alucard was alive, and so was Belmont. You understand now what needs to be done.  

Your lover must once again fight his Father, and this time, he must win.  

Your silent observations allow you to learn of Carmilla’s scheme fairly early on, as well as Godbrand’s demise at the hands of Isaac, yet all that time, you say nothing. You keep your mouth shut and your eyes down. If Carmilla divides Dracula’s army and court, she will inevitably make it easier for Alucard and Belmont to destroy him.  

The Generals, and even Dracula himself, believe you are mourning the loss of your love for the second time, as his demise will be inevitable the moment he meets his Father and his armies— or at least, that’s what they assume.  

When Carmilla has Hector send special night creatures to the remains of the Belmont home, you attach a letter around one of the creature's necks, hoping your love will notice it, and if he doesn’t, you pray he instinctively outwits the traps that await for him within his Father’s castle.  

━━━━━ ❂ ━━━━━   

Beginning Again:   

The night Dracula chooses to move the Castle to Braila, you manage to speak with him one last time.  

You bring him some tea, even though you know he won’t drink it, and you tell him, for what must be the hundredth time, how sorry you are about all that’s happened. You apologize for not being able to do more to save his wife. You tell him that if you could do it all over again if you were given a choice between who they should burn first, you’d demand it be you.  

Dracula turns away from the fire to look at you upon hearing those words.  

“She was fond of you, you know.” He says, sounding far away as if lost in a distant memory. “She was overjoyed at the thought of gaining a daughter”  

You nodded along a hurt smile on your face. “It was my honor.” Gathering your courage you continued: “Even though it didn’t work out, I want you to know I loved your wife very much… And,” you kept going. “I love your son very much.”  

Dracula said nothing. He simply turned his attention back to the flames within his study’s fireplace.  

“It’s not too late, you know,” you prod gently. “If Adrian is alive, he could still come back, we could still be a family-”  

“No!” Dracula’s low growl sent shivers down your spine.  

For a moment you feared he would rise to attack you or perhaps berate you further, but no such action came. Instead, the former Great Lord Dracula’s shoulders deflated back to their hunched position, as he fell silent once again.  

Quietly, you made your way back to your room, shutting and locking the door behind you. If you had any tears left at all, you would have shed them throughout the night. Instead, you merely lay awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering if there would even be a tomorrow to awaken to.  

Pleased to still be alive at this point, but feeling increasingly suffocated by this overwhelming sense of doom, you spend the next day cooped up in your room, on your knees, the rosary in your hand, whispering prayers of safety for your loved one. You couldn't explain it, but at the time, you felt compelled to recite prayer after prayer and reveal all the fears and worries in your heart.  

You speak out to Death, to God, to all the angels and saints, and beg them to grant Adrian safe passage as he completes his task of saving humanity— it’s something his Mother would have wanted after all.  

Amidst your fervent prayers, you feel the Castle shake and creak, but you soon realize something is off: it keeps jerking from side to side, several times, way too many to be a case of a single relocation. Your heart races, and in the pit of your gut, you know this is it:

The Alucard has come.  

Your love has come back for you.  

You scramble behind the door, poised with a wooden stake in hand (just in case, you never know), and wait.  

And wait.  

And wait.  

Following a crescendo of metallic crashes and screaming, you hear more crashes, this time lesser in intensity and they’re accompanied by the distinct scent of fire, sulfur, and burnt flesh.  

It terrifies you, bringing such horrible memories of your almost demise to the surface. You look down at the burn scars on your arms and feel physically ill. Every time you shut your eyes to blink, you see the corpse of Ms. Tepes, burning alive right before you as if no time has passed at all, as if you’re trapped in the permanent hell of that memory.  

The overwhelming ornery atmosphere in the castle only grows, seeming to suddenly flood your nostrils and every pore.  

You watch in shock and horror as thousands of soot-colored transparent ghouls burst through your doorway, the shock of the impact sending you reeling into the bed. Tortured faces of all shapes and sizes circle you menacingly, before bursting through your room’s glass window, vanishing just as fast as they came.  

Within an instant you feel… lighter, freer almost. It’s as if something major has changed, but you don’t know what.  

Timidly, stake still in hand, you make your way down the castle corridors. Unfortunately, you have to take several detours, your regular route being cut off by giant holes in the architecture. A good portion of the castle looks like it had been hit with cannon fire.  

You sincerely hope that whatever caused that damage is no longer rampaging around these halls, lest you stumble upon them yourself.  

By the time you reach the throne room, the sun is just peeking out from behind the horizon. The sight of it flowing freely into the castle interior lifts your spirits with hope. Sunlight means no vampires. No vampires means…

You follow the originating path of the sun’s beams, finding three figures illustrated against the sunrise. One of them is a burly-looking man, with a large frame and broad shoulders. Another is a woman, at least, you’re fairly certain they’re a woman, with curly hair, dressed in flowing blue robes. And the third is….  

You don’t even need a second glance to know who the third person is.  

Crying out his name, you run towards your long-lost lover, almost losing your footing over all the debris covering the floor. But just as he would before, and just as he always would, your lover, Adrian, catches you before you can fall.  

The two of you cling to each other for dear life, just silently sobbing, feeling grateful to be in one another’s embrace. You’re not sure how long the two of you stay intertwined like that, you just know however long it was, it could never be enough to make up for how much you missed him this past year.  

“Adrian,” you clutch his coat, “I thought you were dead! I thought he had killed you! I was so worried.”  

“He almost did,” the strange broad-shoulder man reveals in a teasing fashion. You watch as the robed woman elbows him in the gut.  

“Alucard,” Adrian says, regaining your attention as he grasps your hands in his. “I am Alucard now.”  

You look into his golden eyes, sensing while this is still very much the body of the man you loved, this Alucard before you, is not the same person that your Adrian was. After all this time, it feels like quite the loss, and yet, you cannot fault him for it. You are unaware of the journey he’s been on, of the sacrifices he’s had to make. God knows your character must have changed as well, living amongst a vampire court and necromancers for just under a year.  

You back away from your love, temporarily ignoring his concerned expression.  

“Hello Alucard,” you say, extending a hand, “My name is (Y/N). And I’d very much like to share a drink with you if you’d let me.”  

“Don’ know about Alucard,” the broad man mumbles, gripping his side in pain, “But I’d very much like a drink. Or five.”  

“Trevor!” The robed woman scolds.  

“What?”  

You smile at the three of them, feeling beyond blessed that your love has found such wonderful new friends.  

When you had first fallen for Adrian, you assumed your family would consist solely of him, his mother, and his father, that you’d spend the rest of your days learning medicine in a little cottage nestled in Lupu. That simple life was to be yours. But now, it’s all changed. And Alucard is all that remains of that family you once loved.  

You gaze out into the forest beyond the castle grounds, closing your eyes and sighing as you feel the morning’s sun on your face.  

Yes, it was true Mrs. and Mr. Tepes were gone.

It was true that the old Adrian could never come back.

But if you had to choose a new life, a life here amongst a gorgeous castle, with your former lover and his two new friends, well… you doubted you could pick a better one than that.  

A/N 2.0: WHY DID THIS TAKE ME SO LOOOONG? Who knows? Anyway, it’s here now. And hey— did you pay close attention to the symbols in the dividers? Go ahead and look back if you didn’t, just a silly little fun symbolism storytelling. Oh, also, I will finally be updating The Queue List to reflect all the asks I’ve since answered and posted to not confuse people checking on the status of their ask/new readers.

If you liked reading this, please REBLOG! Likes are great but reblogs spread my work much further. 

If you really, really liked reading this, Consider Buying Me a Coffee <3. 

[frenchkisstheabyss]

⛧ 𝙽𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙱𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝙺𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚜 ⛧

⛧ Pairing: poly!slasher!minsung x chubby!fem!reader

⛧ Genre: slasher au/horror/fluff/angst

⛧ Summary: It's Halloween 1996, you've just broken up with your toxic ex, and there's a killer on the loose. When you go to the local video store to find your next distraction, you run into your longtime crushes who have their hearts set on looking after you. But you must be careful. Not everyone's who they appear to be.

⛧ Word Count: 2.1k

⛧ Warnings: brief discussion of murder, implied possessive ex, intro to knife play if you squint, suggestive, psycho Minsung, you probably have a killer fetish, & that's all my loves. It's otherwise quite fluffy tbh.

⛧ A/N: I'm starting this series as my love letter to 90's slasher films aaaand because I just love Minsung. I'm writing this in "tapes" instead of chapters for ✨ ambiance ✨ so I hope the vibes come across. I'm already working on part two so I'll have my knives and fingers crossed you babes enjoy this one.

💀 >>> Go to Tape 2 >>> 💀

A bell dings overhead as you step through the door of Topline Video. A crowd of middle school kids dart by, nearly knocking you over in their excitement to get home with some cheesy slasher flick they definitely shouldn’t be watching. All are in full costume, wearing the kind of plastic masks that smell sorta funny when you put them on. 

The kid dressed as a goblin turns back for a second, peeling up the murky green mask to reveal an apologetic face. “Sorry, lady!” he shouts, taking your gentle smile as a sign of forgiveness and racing to catch up to his friends. “Lady?” you whisper to yourself, the door creaking shut behind you, “Great, now I feel ancient.” 

Lucky for you there’s no time for an existential crisis as you’re swept into the frenzy of the video store. The walls are packed with what must be a thousand VHS tapes. Double sided displays line the aisles with hundreds more. Every one of them is some brand of horror movie with even the most obscure subgenre present. 

Black and orange streamers travel from one end of the ceiling to the next with tiny spiders dangling from them. Giant skeletons lurk in the corners guarding jack o lanterns with flickering eyes. Every year people eat it up but this year is particularly spooky. It sends a shiver down your spine when you recall why. 

“I heard they found another leg” a red haired girl says, casually smacking on a piece of bright pink bubblegum. Beside her a shorter girl files through tapes under a large bloody hand drawn sign reading SERIAL KILLERS.

“I thought they already found both of his legs. A guy can’t have three legs.”

The red haired girl shakes her head, smiling mischievously. “That is not true. I hooked up with him once. You could for sure consider that thing a third leg.” The girls break into a fit of giggles. Dodging their insensitivity, you squeeze yourself into the Monster Movie section. 

“Hey Drac” you sigh, staring up at the Dracula cutout looming over you, “I live in a town of idiots.” “You don’t mean everyone, do you?” a voice answers back with the worst Dracula impersonation you’ve ever heard. Suspicious that it isn’t coming from the cardboard cutout, you peek around to see a familiar face stocking the shelves. 

Your heart immediately begins to flutter, a blanket of warmth encompassing you. Han Jisung. If you flip through the dictionary you’ll find him under D for dreamy. The glow of the setting sun kisses his dark curly hair, making it almost sparkle. And those brown eyes, they’re so…no…keep it together. 

“That’s a terrible Dracula voice” you tease, arms folded across your chest. “I don’t know what you mean. Bleh, bleh, bleh” he carries on, pretending to bare his fangs. Now it’s you who’s giggling and you can’t stand how easily he gets you to.

“You are such a dork, Han.”

Returning to his normal voice he only shrugs, “But that’s why you’re so insanely in love with me isn’t it?”

His words intensify the heat moistening your palms. Fidgeting with the sleeves of your jean jacket, you wrack your brain for some witty response only for nonsense to tumble out. 

“No. What? I…uh…um…early.” 

Popping a copy of Megaverse Massacre 2 onto the shelf, Han raises an eyebrow at you, “Early?”

Your brain finally catches up to your mouth and you spit it out. “Uh, yeah, early. I heard you guys were closing early because of the…” 

“Body hacking psycho killer?” a voice cackles, gripping your shoulders from behind. You let out a blood curdling scream that draws the attention of a few nearby shoppers. Swinging around, your fist ready to dish out a debilitating gut punch, you come face to face with Lee Minho. You haven’t quite decided if he can be filed under “dreamy” or “asshole” yet.

Minho grins, never finding you cuter than when he’s getting on your nerves. “I’m sorry, babe. Didn’t hurt you did I?” he teases, straightening out your clothes with a gentleness you weren’t expecting. The sun’s doing that thing again. The sparkle. The glow. The radiant brown eyes searching yours, threatening to make you fall even deeper into them than you already have.

Han dips between the two of you, separating you before you rip Minho’s head off. “I’m sorry. Really. He was deprived of air in the womb. Being an asshole’s just a side effect.” 

Over Han’s shoulder Minho frowns, “Hey! Rude much?” Digging into his pocket, Han pulls out a lollipop. It’s sugar blown into the shape of a blood drenched kitchen knife. “Are you bribing me with a sugary murder weapon?” you ask, staring at it skeptically. Han flashes you a close lipped smile, his cheeks so fluffy it’d be a crime to deny him.

Snatching the lollipop you waste no time popping the wrapper off and tapping Minho on the head with it. “Hey! What was that for?” he winces, wiping lollipop residue from his head. “Sorry, babe” you grin, sucking on your tool of revenge, “Didn’t hurt you did I?” Han buries his face in his hand but it does nothing to hide the joy he takes in his best friend’s pain. 

This is nice. Laughing with someone. With them. It’s been a while since you felt this light around other people. The recent weight on you hasn’t been of some invisible boogeyman sneaking off with one of your limbs. No, your boogeyman was someone you knew well, or at least thought you did, and he’s haunted you every chance he can.

Speak of the devil…

A bell dings, drawing your attention to the door where a man in a demon mask scans the room for someone. You recognize him immediately. Those boots. Those pants. That flannel shirt you always found totally hideous on him. Your heart sinks, the lollipop in your hand tumbling to the floor.

You see Minho and Han’s hearts sink too. It’s as if they sense that any joy you’d been feeling just went down the drain that instant. Minho whispers something into Han’s ear. You can’t make out what, only the calculated tone of his voice. “Hey!” Han says, perking up again, “We’re having a movie night tonight. You should come.”

As the man in the demon mask spots you, your eyes dart back and forth between the men. “A movie night? Sure that would be…I’d like that.”

Han takes you by the hand, “Wicked. Come on, you can pick a movie from the back.” He leads you towards the backroom just as the man advances towards you. Peeking over your shoulder you spot Minho blocking his way. A quick left turn stops you from seeing what happens next, filling your vision instead with tattered old movie posters.

Passing a few of Han’s coworkers, you wave politely and they smile in return. The back room’s like a dustier, quieter version of the sales floor. The walls are still lined with tapes, only there’s no way these have been watched any time in the past decade. Through the dust you see the spine of a tape titled Camp Counselor Sleepover Murder Party 4.

“That one” you decide, stopping dead in your tracks.

Han stops too, squinting to spot what caught your eye, “A woman of taste I see.” 

Pulling it from the shelf, he blows the dust away and hands it to you. “Only the finest for you.”

You feel that lightness again. It's easy to feel it when he smiles at you like this. Such an unexpected but welcomed sense of safety. “Han, thanks for…” you start but the surprise sensation of his lips pressed to yours makes anything you were about to say feel insignificant.

With one hand still holding yours, his other hand comes to rest on your lower back. Your lips are somehow softer than he’d imagined. Even in the absence of the lingering strawberry flavored lollipop, he knows they’d taste just as sweet. Minho’s gonna kill him when he finds out that he kissed you first but nothing could be more worth it.

“Thank me by not worrying about your ex,” he says, “He won’t bother you anymore. I promise.” 

You want to tell him how much he doesn’t understand. That your ex doesn’t give up that easily. But you decide not to ruin the moment, even if letting yourself believe him feels delusional. “Jisung, we need you up front!” one of his coworkers shouts back. He hesitates, unsure if he should leave you or not.

You kiss him first this time, turning him loose, “Go. I’ll be fine back here. Camp Counselor Sleepover Murder Party 1-3 have gotta be rotting around here somewhere right?” One last kiss and he’s rushing back up front, clueless as to how he’s supposed to focus on anything else now.

Turning back to the shelf you realize how big of a challenge you’re in for. Maybe there’s a feather duster somewhere? Or a respirator mask?

“Give it here. That has to be wrong.” Minho approaches the kitchen counter where you sit, playfully swinging your feet. He reaches for the magazine in your hand but you clutch it tightly to your chest, refusing to fork it over.

“Live with it, Minho. You are Suspicious Boyfriend.” 

“Suspicious boyfriend” Han sings, retrieving a bag of freshly popped popcorn from the microwave, “I think it has a ring to it.”

Hopping down from the counter, you skip your way over to Han extending the magazine and the pen in your hand out to him. “Your turn, Hannie.” You see the skepticism all over his face but don’t give up. All torture must be equal after all.

“I’ll take that” Minho smiles, stealing the popcorn for himself.

“Sure. Why not?” Han surrenders, grabbing the magazine and the pen. You and Minho watch on, far more amused than you should be, as Han skims the pages checking off answers to silly personality questions. Pick a country to travel to. Pick a favorite food. Upstairs or downstairs?

After a minute or two he finishes and slides the magazine back over to you. You can barely contain yourself as you assess his results. Leaning across the counter, you share them with Minho who immediately begins to laugh. 

“What’s so funny? What did I get?” Han asks looking so genuinely concerned that you almost feel bad for telling Minho first. Minho empties the popcorn into a bright orange Halloween bowl, shoveling some into his mouth. “Comic Relief Best Friend” he mumbles. Han frowns, coming to see for himself. You hold the results page up for him. 

Which Horror Character Are You?

You point to his score beneath the headline “Comic Relief Best Friend”.

“Oh, okay. So I’m funny and I die before him. Perfect.”

“Aww, come on. Don’t be like that” you say, poking at his chin, “It’s not like I got the best result either. I’m the Final Girl.” 

“What’s so bad about that?” Minho asks, his words muffled by food, “It means you make it to the sequel.” 

“No, it means that I’m boring. Badass but boring. I wanna be the killer. They have more fun.” 

Han shakes his head, a sympathetic hand resting on your shoulder, “I hate to break it to you but you’re not really killer material.” Minho takes your hand like a doctor prepared to give you some bad news, “Yeah, you just…you don’t have it in you, kid.” 

“Don’t have it in me? I do so!” you protest, your tantrum not doing much to make you less adorable. Minho moves toward the knife rack behind him, carefully selecting the biggest, sleekest one he can find. “Okay, so kill me.” 

There’s a long, tense silence.

“Come on. It’s not that hard. Just…” Minho mimes stabbing himself in the chest, his tongue stuck out sideways. “Give it!” you shout, running to take the knife away. Minho catches you by the wrist, slipping the knife into your hand and raising the tip of the blade an inch away from his throat.

“Do it” he dares, his hand tightening around yours, “Prove us wrong.”

There’s an unnerving excitement in his eyes as he awaits your decision. An excitement that doesn’t seem to want you to back away. No, it wants you to come closer. He wants you to come closer.

“Hannie,” you plead, “Can you talk some sense into him please?” Han joins the two of you, saying nothing at first, simply observing. The way that they watch you is intensely sexual and some part of you, one you hadn’t known existed until now, seems to take pleasure in it. 

Han laughs, bringing his arms around your waist, “Oh but sweetie, we’ve played your game. Don’t you wanna play ours now?”

[bettyfrommars]

Part 4: My Name is Eddie

a continuation of the Gargoyle Eddie story

masterlist

18+ONLY

⚠️smut, monsterfugging, unprotected sex, gore, mention of a decapitated head, a murder, oral for all, size kink, Eddie wears glasses, Eddie is a demon and a gargoyle, creampie, language barrier, true love, impossible love. wc: 2.1k

This part takes place shortly after the events of part 3. Thank you to everyone who has encouraged this story, and to my talented friends Somna and Drac for the amazing gargoyle Eddie artwork they did here and here.

Please remember, this is monsterfucking.

--------

“Eddie?” You stifled a laugh.  “Centuries of years old and your name is…Eddie?”

You flipped back a page in the delicate binding of the antique, leather-bound book, trying to decipher the syllables of his ancient language.  You’d just been for a swim in the secluded lake behind the mansion to wash the blood off from Eddie’s latest kill. 

Your ex was dead, and while his heart pumped the last of his blood from his body, you watched Eddie’s face shift from rage to uncertainty as he wondered if he’d crossed a line and now, he was too much for you.  His black tail dripped with blood, and he'd held the severed head by the hair; tendrils of guts hanging down as the eyes twitched one last time.  

You were more worried about Eddie than anything. The defined, smooth muscles under his stone-gray flesh flexed tight and did not release as he searched your face with caution. His wings that had once been stretched out wide as a threat, fell slowly down, disarmingly so.

You went to him then, with your arms out, and Eddie’s clawed fingers released the decapitated head to pick you up into his embrace so that your legs wrapped around him.  You felt the viscous blood connect your chest to his with a sticky smack, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care that you were naked with your gargoyle lover who just murdered a man right in front of your eyes. You ran your fingers lovingly down one of his horns from the tip to the base, and then pushed some of his dark hair behind his pointed ear.  

You put your forehead to his and rubbed your noses together.  With a deep voice, he said something in his language, and even though you’d been doing your best to try and learn, it was a difficult task, and you could only speak and understand a few words.

You could’ve sworn he said, “I’m sorry,” but you weren’t sure, and your mouth found his, to seal his words in, to let him know that everything would be alright.

Now, as you sat across from him on a blanket under a tree near the lake, you asked him again, just to be sure.  

“Eddie?” You liked saying it.  You’d been calling him Goyle for so long, you felt bad for not knowing his full name, especially considering all  you had been through already, and how often he came inside of you.

He had a pair of reading glasses perched on his demon nose and he looked over the top of them at you to give a few slow nods of his head.  In his huge hand was a children's alphabet book—he wanted to learn to understand you, as well.  More so, he wanted to communicate to you how much he loved you, and he wanted to be able to comprehend the stories that you read to him at night by the fire.  

He did his best pronunciation of “my name is Eddie,” in that deep, guttural voice of his, and it made you smile so big—he was doing so good.

You were so proud, you took his book from him and crawled up into his lap.  Eddie had a huge beach towel around his hips, and you were naked under a big, oversized shirt.  

This was the fourth pair of glasses you’d had to get for him because they kept breaking.  You had to teach him how to treat delicate things, and train him not to accidentally poke one of his claws through the lens.  When you got him really relaxed, his claws would retract and sink back into the beds of his fingers like a cat.  

When your hand slotted under his ears to kiss him, you wondered—not for the first time—how you would introduce him to some of the other people in your life.  You were also struck with the realization that maybe that would never happen; maybe it would be just you and Eddie forever.  You didn’t have any close family left, but you did miss a few of your friends.  What would they think about your gargoyle Eddie?  You’d been successfully able to placate a few emails and phone calls because everyone knew you had been through a lot.  You worried about the day that one of them would come looking for you unexpectedly, much like your ex had.

But now, you could feel him getting hard as you sat in his lap, and you gave him a sheepish grin before slinking down on your knees to remove the towel.  His unholy manroot was the size of a forearm, and you couldn’t fit it all in your mouth on the best of days, but you always did your best.

He watched you wrap your hand around the base to pull the straining length toward you.  Being that he was a gargoyle, Eddie was completely hairless and stone-smooth, and you knew you could get one of his balls in your mouth, so that is what you did first.  He sat propped up against the big tree trunk, grunting at how good it felt as your tongue worked in circles around the soft skin, sucking it in your cheeks like it was a round, jawbreaker candy.

You worked your way with kisses back up the shaft and flicked your tongue at the big vein and up the slit at the head.  There was precious, demon pre-cum there now and so you sucked and wrapped your lips around the tip, offering a few fluttering licks.  When you looked up, you saw that he was watching you from under hooded eyes, lips parted.

You spat a few times on the head, and then ran the saliva around with your tongue, enjoying the soft whimper he let out.  “My King,” you mewed, right before the tip disappeared inside your mouth, stretching your lips to their max as you went down as far as you could.  Your hand worked in tandem, like an extension of your mouth, your tongue swirling whenever it reached the top.

Your eyes watered a bit as you sent it to the back of your throat, and Eddie bucked his hips at the sensation.  His cock was messy with your saliva, and when you pulled off, he liked the way your spit collected in your mouth for him.

You noticed his breathing catch and you could feel his balls tighten up close to his body as one hand massaged them.  He told you he was about to cum in his own language, growling, and you jerked the tip, holding your mouth open.  

The first hot spurt hit your lips, and then you closed your mouth down over it, swallowing, jerking him, moaning with soft pulls of hunger for every last bit your man had to give.  

You cleaned him up, not wanting to miss a drop, and afterwards, you took a nap together on the blanket under the tree with Eddie spooning you from behind, one of his massive arms caging you in and locking you against him.  The cool, early evening breeze hit your face and woke you a little first, but then you heard Eddie groan as his pelvis twitched against your backside.  The air smelled like alfalfa and sun kissed skin and the metallicity of wet earth. 

His voice deep and hot against  your ear, he whispered something in his language that sounded like a question, and you nodded, even though you didn’t understand.  His fingers scraped up your thigh, pushing up  your tee shirt so he could rub his growing length against your slit.  He kissed down your neck and your shoulder, coaxing you with his hands to take off the shirt altogether, which you did, and then his hand sank between your legs to find your cunt.  

You arched back against him, mouth open.  You were drowsy but ready as he worked the head of his beastly cock along your wet offering, talking dirty to you in that breathless way you loved—even though you couldn’t decipher any of it.  

Still on your side, he lifted your top leg up with one strong arm so he could line himself up with your hole.  When he sank the tip in, you pushed against him and his long, black tongue came out to flick the shell of your ear.  Your fingers came down to work your clit, to help open up for him as your tight entrance squeezed around his tip with resistance.

“Let me in, my Queen.  Let me have you,” he murmured in his language.  

You were already soaked, dripping down your ass, but even then—it took your muscles a second to expand.  

“Take me, take all of me,” you begged, arching your hips back so that he sank in even more.  You brought your hand up to grab onto one of his horns and turned your head to kiss him.  

You felt Eddie shiver at the way you took him; he braced himself and held your leg in the air as his muscular hips began to work.  You could feel the intensity in his cat-like brown eyes as he met your gaze; he wanted to see the look on your face when he filled you up like no one else ever could.  You whimpered his name over and over and bit your lip and pulled his head down so the tip of his tongue could dance along yours.  

“Fuck,” you gasped, desperately, finding that sweet spot on your clit again, feeling the stretch with your fingers from where he was splitting  you.  Your sex made wet smacking noises as they met and your body jerked from the force of it. 

Eddie flipped you over onto your back and pulled your legs up in the air so that your upper back and head were the only parts of you on the ground.  On his knees, he buried his face in your cunt, smelling deeply first, running his nose through your folds, and then he sucked at your bundle of nerves, pushing his tongue inside, lifting his eyes to look at your face—to make sure you liked it.

“Eddie I love you,” but you said it in his language, so it sounded more like “me is loving you Eddie” but he understood.

He lowered your hips enough so that his cock lined up with your hole again, and your feet were at his shoulders, draped in his dark hair.  

He stared down, locking eyes with you, and you saw that familiar softness there; the centuries of loneliness and yearning.  “Need…my Queen… inside.”

He could’ve been meaning to say so many different things, and they all touched your heart.  Just then he sent his throbbing cock in balls deep with a passionate thrust, making you arch your head back with a curse. You heard the crunch of another pair of Eddie’s glasses breaking, but at that moment it didn’t matter. 

He licked his thumb and worked your spot with the right pressure and speed—knowing you were close by the way you milked his cock in fluttering pulses.  He bent forward slowly as he fucked, just far enough so he could take your face in his hand and rub his thumb along your cheek. You moved to kiss his massive palm that was almost the size of your head.

“This is love?” He said it in the form of a question, and you wondered if he’d meant to, but you answered anyway, nodding.

“Yes, Eddie, this is love.”

He swallowed hard, dragging his fingers away from your face as if it pained him to do so, and then the thrusting continued slow and deep. He rocked that spot deep inside of you over and over, making fireworks explode behind your eyes.

“Fuck Eddie baby I’m gonna--oh god,” you said it all in one breath just as he snapped his hips against you, urging you with those ancient words, promising that no other man or monster would ever have you--you were his for eternity.  

Your pussy rippled around his fat cock, dripping with desire, as you spasmed and wailed.  Eddie came close to you again, bracing his hand on the ground, so that he could be closer to you when he came.  

This time it was you who put your hand on his cheek, watching his brown eyes go black as he shuddered and came so deep and so hard, that his fingers clawed into the dirt at your side.  As he trembled there, watching you, he kept his cock buried and held your hips up on purpose so that none of his seed could leak out.  

When he finally pulled out and released you, you climbed up into his lap again. He crushed you against him with an innocent urgency, spreading his large wings out fold them in and wrap them around you protectively.  

He whispered in your ear: “My name is Eddie,” repeating the phrase that had made your eyes light up earlier, hoping it would have the same effect.

You nodded against his shoulder, feeling emotional.  “Your name is Eddie, and I love you.”

[strawberry-spectre]

I was at a friend's party and as I was bored I scrolled through Tumblr and found a "bad end friends" post, like it got me thinking, so far I never saw a "bad end" or reverse au in MH, like the villains never got redeemed or some didn't even WANT to or what if our loved ghouls had a tragic ending or were evil (kinda like shadow ghouls) idk underfell vibes

And that made me think...can you imagine like a genuine villain valentine, one that didn't get redemption? And if so, hcs?

Genuine villain Valentine is such a cool idea omg :0000 Imagine him breaking ghoul's hearts just for the fun of it and using them for his own advantage lol he definetly would be a scarier villain.

I don't think Val would have the 3 dumbass clouds with him bc I feel like that was mostly for comedic effect and to back him up as the villain. In this au Val would be scarier alone without the 'hehehehehehehehehe' from the clouds lol.

I think it'll be cool if in the wdgfil movie his appearance was more like Cupid's, only seeing glimpses of the character then a final reveal :DD some no face shots of him with his trophy case, his silhouette, etc etc

And the first time we see evil Val's face can be when he's alr hypnotised Drac so it's like ':000 he rly did that omg'

I think the main complication would be Spelldon. Does Valentine continue to lead ghouls on whilst in a relationship with Spell? Is Spell also evil in this au? Does evil Valentine truly love Spell? Does Valentine know he's gay alr? What are the other reasons for Val to lead ghouls on other than 'it's fun'? What would his backstory be? I don't think it should be too 'sympathetic' or else he wouldn't be a 'genuine villain'

I don't think it'll make sense for Spelldon to be evil bc we see that Casta's very sweet and nice, if she wasn't in the picture though I would def love to see evil power couple Spelltine who does evil things together lmao. Maybe that can be their 'shadow' self (13 wishes) (imagine shadow spelltine guys IVE BEEN OBSESSED W/ THE IDEA-)

[the-moons-ace-card]

So I have a new OC in the works for Hotel Transylvania of all things, but I don't really have many people to rant to about him, so I'm just gonna info dump about him here

It all started when I heard a rumor that Griffin was originally gonna be queer coded, but the creators ended up being cowards and that's how he ended up with Crystal at the end of the second movie. Don't get me wrong, Crystal's a queen, but Griff being gay just makes so much sense to me. He literally called Drac "irresistible" and was the only one without a gf in the first movie

IDC what anyone says, in my mind, he and Crystal only "zinged" for benefits and they're mlm and wlw solidarity. They're only "dating" until they find their true zings.

Anyway, I heard that and went "Dang, that's TWICE now my boy got robbed!" so I'm gonna give him the bf he deserves (maybe I'll make a gf for Crystal, too, who knows)

I haven't drawn him YET (he's in progress) but his name is Cyrus and he's a phoenix. He looks mostly human, but he also has red and gold wings, and markings on his face and shoulders. He can regenerate from ashes when he dies, his tears can heal any injury, and he's a firebender. He can also shapeshift and take the form of a giant red and gold bird. He's pretty quiet, reserved, and doesn't trust easy.

Like other monsters, Cyrus was feared by humans. But unlike other monsters, humans hunted him down for a different reason - his tears. Since his tears are like the ultimate ointment, people wanted to get their hands on them for either themselves, or to make money off of them. Cyrus had been caught many times, either straight up, or lulled into a false sense of security and got backstabbed. Each time, he went through intense levels of agony, anything that would get him to spill tears. But he always managed to escape.

It didn't take long for him to become distrusting of everyone he meets.

When Cyrus heard that humans and monsters got along again, he wanted nothing to do with it. Sure, humans may no longer be afraid of him, but what could be done to change that he was still wanted for selfish reasons?

When he first came into the hotel looking for a break from it all, Griffin zinged first since he spotted him from afar.

When Cyrus first interacted with Griffin, he was taken aback by the personality brighter than his flames. He knew Griffin was basically just an invisible human, but he knew off the bat that something about him was different. In that moment, the zing became mutual, but Cyrus didn't know it yet.

Griffin knew, though, and he immediately ran to tell Crystal the first chance he got. She was super excited for him.

From there, the romance blossomed in the form of a slow burn. Cyrus cautiously took his time to build up the trust and courage to feel completely safe and relaxed around Griffin and Griffin was super patient with him. When Cyrus finally did feel comfortable, he also embraced his loving feelings and then the ship set sail

And that's all I have to share for now. Any feedback or ideas would be appreciated!!

[rosetyler42]

A ship dynamic meme with two of my favorites. I love two characters who've been through bleep finally getting to rest, and one will fuck you up if you disturb the other. These two could go either way, but...Drac's definitely the traunatized worrywart between him and Ericka while she knows he's been through enough hell already. She's the one who can actually get him to take a break, which is rare enough she'd be protective as heck of his peace. (Plus, most Vampires get staked in their sleep. Ericka knows this better than ANYONE.) And for Bent Halos....Alice is the perfectionist workaholic and most visibly traumatized while Bendy is the Gomez who will quite literally rip you apart if you disturb his angel.

Drericka's pose is taken from the OG reference, while Bent Halos, I was going for a more cat-like thing. Dracula is more like a person while Bendy is more like a big giant feral cat.

Original by @mud-muffin

@lovelylivelyv @black-ak9 @hotelt-resurrection @ssleeping-in-a-coffin @serial-serializednovelreader @deathfangirl9 @twinklecupcake @ebevkisk @roydoodler-blog @doodledrawsthings @thedopedemon @thedobermutt @thedemonsurfer @inkiedraws @inkhyaena @inkspottie @inkwelldevil @wingingfromthezing @howling-nightmare

Bonus: Sorry, Boris and Knight XD

[asteriastarr]

HIIIYYAAA!!! its me again i bloody L O V E D the messing around b4 class one you did.

(for this one Deuce and Y/N are already together and she is a shapeshifter) if you arent busy or anything like that a cute thing I thought of was Deuce, Y/N, Heath, Clawdeen, Drac, Frankie, etc all chilling in a chill room or common room during free period or on a weekend messing around and having fun and just laughing about dumb crap. Then Komos walks past and Y/N uses her piers to turn into him and yells out something funny to him just to mess with him but he knows its her which causes everyone to laugh again.

Just another weird thought/concept I thought of!!!

Luv ya💚🖤

A/n: Thank you for the request! Idk how I did but I tried to fulfil it, hope you enjoy, love ya!

POV: Shapeshifter!Y/n and the group messing around in their free period.

Y/n rested her head on Deuces shoulder, his hand wrapped around her shoulders, happily joking around with their friends as the group threw a small rubber ball around the room.

“Okay, okay, do Headmistress Bloodgood.” Clawdeen said as Y/n playfully rolled her eyes and straightened herself up.

She closed her eyes, focusing on Headmistress Bloodgood’s basic appearance and features, turning herself into an exact replica of her.

“My goodness children, have you been breaking rules?” She says her voice almost exactly matching Headmistress Bloodgood’s.

“Draculaura!” She yelled suddenly causing Draculaura to jump “Have you been doing witchcraft? That is so horrible, how dare you be doing something so humanlike in our school. Witchcraft is an abomination!”

The group laughed as she turned to Deuce.

“Mr Gorgon!” She yelled causing Deuce to raise an eyebrow at her, flinching slightly “Are you causing trouble?”

Deuce shook his head.

“Don’t lie Mr Gorgon, I see you just sitting there with your green snake hair and glasses, very clearly breaking rules. Detention for two months due to all your rule breaking.” She says, making a mock angry face at Deuce before turning back to her normal self and moving herself closer to Deuce.

“You should get used to saying my last name, it’ll be yours someday.” He whispered in her ears making her cheeks heat up as she lightly slapped his chest.

“I dunno, I think it should be L/n-Gorgon but whatever.” She whispered to him.

“Ooh Y/n! Do the music teacher.”  Frankie requested.

This time instead of standing up she merely transformed into their music teacher and did an ungodly impression of their teachers singing (causing most of the group to cover their ears and laugh, except Deuce of whom was too busy wincing in pain).

Just then Mr Komos walked past causing Y/n to crane her head around with an evil smile on her face.

She closed her eyes and turned herself into him before yelling out.

“I’m Mr Komos, Here’s a musical number on True Monster Hearts instead of a lesson! I have a massive crush on Headmistress Bloodgood, hence why I keep sucking up to her!"

The group snickered.

“Y/n! We’ve talked about this! What did Headmistress Bloodgood say about imitating teachers?” He scolded walking over to the group causing them to laugh harder.

She transformed herself into Headmistress Bloodgood again before mimicking her.

“Never under any circumstances should you ever imitate a teacher! If you are caught doing it again I will give you a detention. Blah blah blah, this is a very serious offence- oh hello Dracula, are you here to donate some money to the school? You are looking wonderful by the way, very dead. Now where was I? Ah yes! No more transforming into teachers or else, blah blah blah blah blah.” Y/n mimicked.

“You just did it again.” Komos scolded.

“Headmistress Bloodgood isn’t technically a teacher though, she’s a Headmistress, she didn’t say anything about that.” Y/n said matter-of-factly, the group laughing even harder.

Unfortunately for Y/n, the look on Mr Komos’s face indicated no matter her excuse she’d be getting detention.

“Uh- You can’t give detention to what you can’t catch!” Y/n yelled turning herself into a rabbit and running off.

[moonlightmaeve]

This is one of the first Dracula fanfics I wrote, I put Dracula's words and actions into red to help distinguish them from mine. Let me know your thoughts on how this affects the flow/readability. For a bit of context, this is based on BBCs 2020 Dracula. One of his powers is obtaining memories and information through the taste and smell of blood. That's why he licks for a term he'd forgotten. Please let me know if you enjoy this and if I should post more of my writing!!!

"Drac, do you think I'm a bad person?"

"I think that's a bit too philosophical for a Friday night."

"But you love philosophy."

"I like to study philosophy in the same way that you like to study black holes. You cannot even imagine–"

*looks pensively and moves his tongue around in his mouth before resorting to licking the small wounds on my neck*

"–ah yes spaghettification. I cannot even imagine morality. You don't wish to be crushed by the indescribable force beyond an event horizon and I would hate to believe in good or evil."

"Now THAT'S too philosophical for a Friday night. Just answer my question."

"I'll humour you since I am the closest thing to a god that you will ever know. Everything I know about morality is what the blood tells me. Some people regard themselves as honourable but are quite bitter."

*he moves closer to me, and places his hands authoritatively on my shoulder and looks into my eyes.*

"You often have the soured tinge of guilt, a habit that you must cut back on, for the sake of my enjoyment."

"So my blood tells you I'm guilty? By that account I should be terribly ugly as well."

*getting notably frustrated* "No. Your blood tells me that you are still caught up in the lies humanity likes to tell itself. Concepts of good and evil, beautiful and ugly. They are nearly completely absent from the rest of the universe. They live only in feeble minds that allow them to simmer and grow."

"But when I feel guilt, it becomes real because it is real to me. Isn't that how everything is created?"

"My god, clearly you're not listening to me."

*I grin at the opportunity for a joke to break growing tension* "my... what? I thought that's a name we don't say in this house."

*he flashes a mischievous smirk back at me* "quite right my dear" *moving his hands from my shoulders to my waist to pull me closer to him* "we also don't talk about good and bad" *he kisses my head*

"I'll try to avoid it in the future, maybe we should start a swear jar or something, in case I bring up ethics again."

*looking obviously amused and curious, his voice takes on a decisively playful tone.* "a swear jar??"

"Ya know it's like I have to give you some money every time I swear. Except for instead of saying FUCK, it'll be 'good or evil.'"

"Watch your tongue young lady, or I'll pierce it for you. And yes now that you say that I do recall it, from the 80s. Money is something I have little need for and much of. Now attend my words very carefully darling. Your beloved cat kills baby birds because she was made by nature to do so. I erm ‐harvest‐ blood because I need it to survive. And you, you are often moved by something unseen and powerful that you crave. There is no good or bad in that. Do not bring it up again. Come back with sweet, shame-free blood."

"Drac?"

"Yes?"

"You said 'good or bad' just then, now give me £5"

[pinkiepiebones]

Let’s see if this works... Talkin’ about Renfield’s apartment again PART ONE OF TWO

So Renfield’s apartment is located right by one of the stairwells. In this shot you can see Rebecca opening his front door (no number on the door) and you can see beyond her into the apartment just a bit. The curtains that are visible behind her are the same curtains in this shot; window by the dinette set

Back outside, based on where Rebecca and Renfield are standing on the stairwell (is it a stairwell if it’s uncovered and exterior?), as well as windows inside the apartment, I believe Renfield’s apartment is on the same level of the W in the TOWER part of the SUNRISE TOWER sign. (Do you think he chose the place because it’s SUNRISE??? Like, as an anti-Drac measure?)

This is a shot of the same basic space, when Rebecca sees the cop cars arriving. I’m like 90% sure this is the level Renfield’s apartment is on.

Back to the apartment itself.

Here we have Renfield standing outside, letting his bugs free. Notice the one window behind him- it’ll come up here in a sec.

That one visible window correlates to the window beside his TV in this shot-

Please take a moment to appreciate that he keeps every light on and has a lot of little plants everywhere. Okay, moving on. See the window above his sink? That’s what breaks this. Scroll back up to the exterior shots. There is no place where that window can exist. This is an eldritch apartment. In the kitchenette there you can also see an indent in the ceiling that has got to be recessed lighting, because, as I established earlier, Renfield does not live on the top floor, so it sure as fuck isn’t a sky light.

Just a full shot of his little kitchen here.

This is a capture from one of the behind the scenes things on the BluRay, I’m including it because it’s just nice to see the stuff on counter. Is that a retro as fuck toaster? A cookie jar? Precious. And behind them is the second of three windows along the “far wall,” if you will. So, if you were to walk in to his apartment, directly in front of you would be the “living room” (sofa, chair, table, TV) with the “dining room” behind it (dinette set), kitchenette to the left... And I don’t know what to call this space in front of the kitchenette. There’s a record player on that dresser, and there is at least one bar stool. “Entertaining room”?

Here’s a shot from the “living room,” you can see the record player, some records, and a speaker behind Renfield here.

And at this angle you can *just* see the top of a stool like I said. It’s hard to spot. Look at Renfield’s right knee, it’s the tiny white bit below that. Boom. Stool.

Renfield’s “bedroom” is directly beyond the “entertaining room.”

In the confrontation scene, as Dracula keeps moving in to Renfield’s space, you can see more of the “bedroom.” After Dracula passed through the “entertaining room” we get this great angle which shows a dresser with what I’m like 99% sure is a nice printer on it, and curtains framing the third window on that “far wall.”

The final window is centered on the “bedroom wall.” I’m only pointing that out because I misremembered and thought it was closer to the corner space and Renfield could, like, look out the window from his bed.

After Dracula leaves we get a fuller shot of the side of his “bredroom” that does not contain his bed. There’s one window there, which makes no sense based on the exterior shots, of course. On the left you can *just* see what seems to be a sink counter? I’m wondering it that’s a wash basin of some kind, and the space immediately to the right of it- you can see a black robe hanging on a door there- is a shower and toilet space. Also, beanbag chair.

I rotated and lightened the shot from when Rebecca wakes up on the sofa. YOu can see the closet door and beanbag chair from this angle. The kitchenette flows directly into the “bedroom.” Also notice the floor- shaggy rugs on what I think is linoleum

Another rotated shot of basically the same thing, just, again, floor. And stripey socks :3c

[gerardway-is-my-babygirl]

Hi here is a renfield ask do you think once he got free he found himself overwhelmed by just not having to be at anyone's beck and call and how did he fill the quiet hours where no one was demanding all of his physical and mental capacities

Ohhh this Is such an Interesting question!!!

Absolutely, his only purpose for the past 90 years has been to serve someone else, so that's definitely going to result In him trying to recreate that attachment to Dracula with someone different. When DRAAG had suggested he try to focus on his own needs he was still trying to please them and make them happy, he did It for himself too of course but It was mainly from them shoving him In the right direction. He's unable to do things for himself unless people encourage him to, so he definitely struggles with reminding himself to eat/drink/shower post-Dracula and gets quite overwhelmed by how many needs he has and how dull his life Is without having to go hunting every night.

For the first few weeks I Imagine he tries to Ignore Dracula's entire existence (It doesn't work very well) and he distracts himself with the hobbies he's been wanting to do for the past century: knitting, crocheting, baking, etc. Everything he does unfortunately reminds him of Dracula though, and the support group and Rebecca keep telling him to stop burying his emotions which doesn't help him to stay In the denial phase, so eventually he snaps.

I Imagine that his grieving process can go one of two ways:

There's a good route, where he falls apart a lot at the beginning but In the end he learns to accept Dracula's death and allow others to help him.

And then there's a bad route, where he doesn't get past the bargaining phase and ends up bringing Dracula back and pushing everyone around him away.

In the good route he tries to recreate a codependent bond with Rebecca, trying to fulfill every need or want she has until she finally opens up his eyes and makes him realise that he can't let Dracula's shadow follow him forever. He still takes a long time to grieve and to process everything that happened to him, but he has Rebecca and the support group by his side. He still has bad days and Insomnia, but he's determined to get better. Some part of him wants to heal just to spite Dracula, but he also wants to be able to enjoy however many remaining years he has left on earth.

To answer your question of what he would do to fill the quiet hours without being given orders; he's very sensitive about dirt and grime post-Drac, so In the good route his OCD ends up coming back In full swing and he forces himself to clean every Inch of living space that he can reach, out of determination not to let another bug Into his life or to be as dirty as he was when with Dracula. He hoards cleaning sprays and cloths as a way to take back control of his life, accidentally exhausting himself most nights and passing out after entire days of scrubbing the floors and counter tops. This continues until Rebecca finally puts her foot down and drags him to therapy.

In the bad route Renfield ends up falling back Into the pit of self-loathing that Dracula had dug out for him. He knows he got out of It before, but being trapped In It a second time only worsens the affects of his hatred for himself, and this time he doesn't try to get out. Over the course of a few months he lets himself fall apart more and more, not getting out of bed, not answering texts, not answering the door, etc. And when Rebecca finally decides to break down the door, he's gone. Renfield returns to the Lobo mansion and collects Dracula's pieces from the sewers, bringing him back to the hospital to heal him up and to get what he thinks Is his happy ending. Their relationship Is worse this time around, but Renfield would rather have a lifetime of pain than a life without Dracula.

Thank you so much for the ask! I love exploring Renfield's life after Dracula and his feelings and decisions he makes!

[major-knighton]

HALLOW-LEE-N movie review Oct 28th : The Satanic Rites of Dracula (1973)

I skipped quite a few of the Hammer Dracula movies on account of being unable to find them. This one is the last of the movies to feature Lee, and second before last Hammer Dracula movie overall.

It's 1972, London, and strange things are going on in the basement of a house. A man wakes up on a bed, all beaten up. He kills his guard and creeps out of the house, but he is pursued by evil guys on motorbikes. He gets rescued and brought back to his headquarters (some kind of intelligence agency) and spills the tea before dying.

His bosses, Torrence and Matthews, discuss what is happening and explain it to a police guy named Inspector Murray. I believe Murray was a character in the previous film that I skipped.

Four members of high society including a Minister have been photographed leaving that strange house, where according to the dead guy's testimony was home to satanic rituals. We see those satanic rituals, featuring a bunch of shots of a naked young woman getting very excited about having blood dripped on her. Whatever.

Murray takes this problem to Lorrimer Van Helsing, a descendant, and carbon copy of the old Van Helsing. His granddaughter Jessica is also there, I am given to understand she played a major role in the previous movie as well.

One of the guys photographed at the spooky house is an old college friend of Van Helsing, so he goes to see him. The friend is a nervous wreck who ends up breaking down and confessing he's working on an accelerated radioactive plage bacillus, and he needs to be finished before the 23rd, when the Sabbath will happen.

The friend unsurprisingly gets killed by the satanic cult the same day. Meanwhile, Torrence's secretary gets kidnapped by the evil bikers and served to Dracula for a drink.

Later, Torrence, Murray and Jessica go to the house of horrors. They ask Jessica to stay behind in a Dracula-typical display of not trusting the female characters, and go ring the bell and talk to the cult leader all polite-like. Barbara Yu Ling is very fun as the cult leader BTW.

Meanwhile, Jessica sneaks into the basement and she does quite well for herself, until she finds a bunch of chained up vampire ladies, including the secretary. Is her subsequent hysterical screaming a case of 70s female character syndrome or a depiction of her trauma from nearly being drinked in the previous movie? I'll leave that to you.

The vampire ladies are defeated by turning on the sprinkler, because their fear of running water apparently applies to showers. I dread to think how the undead smell.

Van Helsing hears about a guy not showing up in photos and his Dracula alarm bells immediately start ringing. He tracks down the place where he last killed Drac to a large company building which is also funding our dead plague scientist's research. Suspicious!

Van Helsing goes up to meet the CEO who plays at putting on a Lugosi accent and hiding his face to pretend that he is Not Dracula, but a little trick with a Bible reveals that he is in fact very much Dracula. Van Helsing tries to kill him but the remaining three cult members stop him.

Van Helsing is brought to the house, where Jessica lays prepared for the sacrifice. Dracula explains that he will make Jessica his bride, and the three stooges plus Van Helsing will be infected with his radioactive super plague and carry it out to the world to end makind. Wow.

Murray sneaks in, accidentally starts a fire which conveniently destroys the plague infected dude, but Murray, Van Helsing and Jessica all make it out. Dracula seems to really enjoy chasing after Van Helsing, until the latter takes refuge near a hawthorne tree. Since Jesus's crown of thorns was made of hawthorne, it harms Dracula, who doesn't think of going around the tree instead of right through it, enough that Van Helsing can stake him with a fence picket.

Thus perishes for good the most powerful vampire of all time, bested by a bush. I definitely get why people say the Dracula series started off strong and then got gradually weirder and less coherent. Cushing and Lee were still giving it their all though, so it was still a fun ride. 6/10.

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

Killjoys Never Die 15/15 - Save Yourself

Chapter Summary: There is only one way out: the way forward. And BLI does everything in their power to stop you. What nobody saw coming was your backup. Pairing: Fun Ghoul x fem!Reader Chapter Word Count: 4 360 Series Warnings:  mentions of drugs; poor mental health; suicidal tendencies; insecurities; throwing up;  jealousy; slavery (?); experiments on living humans; mentions of eating disorder; graphic descriptions of: violence, injuries, torture, death

Previous Chapter | Series Masterlist

Recap: You had made it into BLI’s headquarters, freed Kobra, but on your way out directly walked into BLI’s trap.

You had made it so far, into the very heart of BLI, had found Kobra, but it had been a trap all along, and now a SCARECROW-unit had opened their fire on you.

You did not know how, but like a miracle the first salve of shot missed you, as you all simultaneously turned to run for the doors. Where would you go from there? Outside more SCARECROWs were waiting, and you had no idea where the Youngbloods were, whether they were even still alive. One step after the other, you reminded yourself, as you covered Jet and Party, who dragged Kobra along. First you had to make it to the doors.

Blindly shooting over your shoulder, you followed them. Judging by the noise behind you some of your shots even found their target.

The closer you got to the doors, the better you could make out the scene behind them. An explosion had set fire to a building across the square. Countless BLI vehicles and what looked like hundreds of SCARECROWs and DRACs had crowded between you and that building. Flames were lighting up the night, flashing cold-white lights from the cars flickered over the facades of the surrounding buildings.

There was nowhere you could go. Even if you made it out of this building, you were as good as dead. The DRACs outside would have surrounded you within seconds. The SCARECROWs behind you were closing the distance between you too fast. It was hopeless. This would be the end.

That was when Fun, being the first one in the group, reached the doors.

“Go,” he shouted, holding it open for Jet and Party, who dragged Kobra along between them. The poor guy looked like he was about to pass out.

Fun waited until you were past him, and shot you a smile.

“Save yourself, I’ll hold them back” he shouted at you, alarming you.

He wasn’t gonna do the stupid thing, which he had promised you not to do, was he? He just couldn’t, couldn’t! Still in full sprint, you tried to come to a halt, but you were already outside. And then Fun pulled the door closed between you.

“Fun!”

You scream alerted the other three, who also came to a stop, as you turned around to properly take in the situation. The glass of the door separated Fun and you. He was locked in with the SCARECROWs, you locked out, forced to watch from the other side of the glass.

He was trying to buy time, just like four years ago. He was sacrificing himself, breaking his promise to you. Because you had promised each other nobody would be left behind.

Everything else faded to the background, as you stared at him through the glass. His lips moved, saying something. You could not be sure but you were certain it was along the lines of “Can’t let you die.”

Anger bubbled in your chest, as you watched him turn his back on you, firing at the SCARECROWs who had almost caught up with him, bringing down one after the other. You remembered the huge scar right above his heart, where the blaster shot had hit him when he had been killed. History would not repeat itself, you swore to yourself. Fun would not die, sacrificing himself to save his friends. He would not die in an attempt to buy you time by protecting these doors. You would not let him die. You just couldn’t. As in a trance you lifted your own blaster, aiming at the glass, at a spot where Fun would not get hit, and fired.

Along with your first shot, suddenly the facade of a house several dozen feet to your side exploded into rubble. You could not be bothered, as you fired a second, a third shot. The glass did not splinter. Jet and Party had joined you, still holding up Kobra between them, firing at the glass relentlessly.

You ignored the SCARECROWs behind you, who had finally taken notice of you. You ignored the way the house next to the headquarters had a hole blown into its walls, ignored the white tank that suddenly rolled into the square.

No, not white. It once had been, but now graffiti and paintings were splashed all over it, the most prominent a first holding up a hand grenade. The tank moved surprisingly fast, until it was in the middle of the square, before it started firing. Not ammunition in the classical sense. It fired at the buildings, at their white facades, and wherever it landed a hit, colour exploded. Reds and greens and yellows and blues and purples and pinks.

The tank was followed by a pick-up truck, rattling over the rumble of the destroyed facade. A once blue pick-up truck with Sandman behind the wheel, Soul Punk on the passenger seat, and Novocaine and Phoenix setting of fireworks from the back of the truck; fireworks that flew to the sky, exploding into a million stars of purple and gold. They whooped and cheered over the noise of the vehicles, over the terrified screams of the SCARECROWs who had never seen this much colour in their lives.

And then came the Killjoys; shouting battle cries, and singing hymns of freedom, following the tank and the truck, dressed in the colours of the rainbow, armed with grenades of paint, and grim smiles. There were hundreds of them, swarming the square, washing over the white of the SCARECROWs and DRACs like a wave over the beach, leaving nothing in their wake but colours.

You saw none of it, did not bother. All you saw was the glass that would not shatter, the glass which separated Fun from you, the glass that trapped him with the SCARECROWs. Each shot by them that missed him was a blessing. He fired at them, while you, Party and Jet fired at the glass. But you were just as much in danger as Fun. Not all SCARECROWs had submitted to panic at the sight of the tank and the colours, instead heading straight your way.

You would not make it, you suddenly realised once more. The enemy was all around, and even with the help of whichever mysterious force the Youngbloods had brought out to play, you would not make it, not all of you.

As if to prove you right, the SCARECROWs behind you opened fire, their shots so barely missing your head that you could smell where it had singed your hair. Jet turned around, and fired back at them, but it was no use. There were simply too many.

If this was the end, you could at least say you went down fighting for the people you loved. And maybe an end like this was not too bad, with the flashes of blasters left and right, the white lights of the BLI car lights, the colourful fireworks in the sky, the colour and life of the Zones washing over the dead white of BLI.

A blaster shot from behind your back missed you so narrowly, that the white fabric of the BLI suit jacket turned brown from where it had been burned, just as the glass you had kept firing at relentlessly suddenly splintered, crashing to the ground.

Launching forward, you grabbed Fun through the splintered glass, and pulled him out backwards, your fingers twisted into the fabric of his jacket. As you turned around, you finally got a look at the scene in front of the BLI headquarters for the first time.

Colour and light were driving out the night, songs and triumphant howling roared through the air and right in the middle of it the tank, fat red letters splattered over the side. “American Idiots”. A myth, a legend, the story Killjoys told themselves to fall asleep at night. The rebels that lived on the narrow sliver of land between Battery City and the sea, the heroes who freed those citizens who began doubting BLI. None of those stories were myths, as the scene before you proved. You had never seen so many Killjoys in one place, and most likely never would again. They had come here, together with the Youngbloods. To save Kobra. To save the Fabulous Killjoys. To save you.

You only had a moment to take in the scene before the pick-up with the Youngbloods came to a screeching halt, blocking the SCARECROWs direct line to you.

“Jump in,” Novocaine shouted.

You did not have to be told twice. Party and Jet hauled Kobra to the back of the truck, trying to stay low enough to stay out of the SCARECROWs’ line of fire. Novocaine and Phoenix helped pull the others on board, before Party extended his hand to you, but you shook your head, pointing to Fun. No way would you leave him to get on last, he might just have another stupid idea. Party did seem to think the same, because he quickly grabbed Fun’s wrist and pulled him up, before both of them reached for you, helping you in as well, Fun tucking you immediately into an embrace.

You had not even sat down yet, when the truck already started driving again, accelerating so fast that you almost fell over, and off the back. Quickly Fun tightened his hold on you, wrapping his arms around you as tightly as he could, keeping you from losing your balance, and dropping both of you to sit down.

“What the hell were you thinking,” you hissed at him, turning in his arms to be able to look up at him.

His eyes found yours, soft, and full of love.

“Couldn’t let you guys die there,” he answered, his face mere inches away from yours. You were wondering if he thought of kissing you. You sure as hell were tempted to kiss him, no matter how mad you were at him. Not the moment for such thoughts, you reminded yourself. “Not again. Least of all you.”

While the truck was racing over the square, Novocaine and Phoenix closed the back end of the truck, so nobody would fall off. You were heading right for the tank, as you could tell, now sitting squeezed between Fun and Kobra. Kobra’s body was strangely cool against yours, weakened from the years of malnutrition and torture, whereas Fun’s was hot from all the running and fighting he had done.

On top of the tank stood three figures, still firing what looked like paint balls, at the members of BLI, who were running around like a scared chickens, no order in their rows, as they were splattered in paint.

“Killjoys never die!” Soul Punk shouted from the front of the truck, a phrase that was repeated by the other Youngbloods.

It seemed to be a signal, because suddenly one of the Killjoys on the tank, one with dishevelled black hair, and black eyeliner, lifted a megaphone up.

“Killjoys never die!” He shouted through it, and as if on command, all the Killjoys on the ground suddenly began moving back towards the hole in the facade through which they had entered the square.

The truck took a different route though, sped off into the opposite direction and into one of the broad streets between the sky scrapers.

The last glance you got at the square before you turned the first corner showed you the extent of the damage that had been done.

The glass doors to the headquarters were broken, nothing left but shards on the ground now. The facade of the building next to it had broken down completely, where the tank had driven through it. The last Killjoys were just climbing over the rubble, the tank itself with its three Killjoys on top, the American Idiots, bringing up the rear.

The rest of the buildings were covered in paint that ran down the walls and collected in puddles of colour on the ground. The SCARECROWs and DRACs had crowded in the square, bathed in paint, still panicking, still running around aimlessly. They had been overrun. Terror had settled deep in their hearts. Within less than three minutes their precious, once white heart of the city had been turned into the most colourful place in all of the northern hemisphere.

Then they were out of sight.

Anxiously you waited for the sound of sirens, motors following you. Everyone seemed to do the same.

It was the groan of Sandman, over the rushing wind and the panting of the old truck’s motor, which drew your attention away from your fear of being followed.

“Hey, everything alright there,” Party asked. He had his arm wrapped around Kobra, but now he was stretching to see into the driver’s cabin where Sandman and Soul were sitting.

Doing the same, you found it was Soul behind the wheel instead of Sandman. You could have sworn it had been the other way around.

“Yeah, might need Jet to stich me up later,” Sandman answered, sounding both pained and amused. “Took a blast to the shoulder for you.”

The two had probably switched places after Sandman had gotten shot.

The last part was directed at Kobra, their eyes meeting, and Sandman grinned happily at the sight of his old friend.

Kobra had dropped his head to Party’s shoulder in exhaustion, but smiled too.

“Didn’t ask you to,” he answered. It sounded so awfully right to finally hear his voice again.

“I know. Still wouldn’t want it any other way,” Sandman answered, before he twisted back to sit more comfortably again.

Once the conversation had died down, you focused back on the noise around you. Wind, the motor of the truck. No BLI cars, no SCARECROWs or DRACs. No one trying to stop you from leaving the city.

The tall houses shot past, and you scanned the people around you.

Phoenix and Novocaine were sitting opposite you together with Jet. They all seemed to be as anxious to leave Battery City as you were.

As long as you were within these walls, you were in a lot more danger than literally anywhere in the Zones.

Next to you, Kobra had leant against Party, who kept his arm wrapped around his younger brother. On your other side, Fun was still holding onto the hand he had offered you when he had pulled you on the pick-up truck.

The truck was going as fast as its motor managed, and a few minutes later the tall, dangerously looming walls that marked the edge of the city, came into view. As you were driving closer and closer they seemed to lean down to you, as if they were to collapse on top of you at any moment.

You could feel yourself holding your breath, as you entered the tunnel underneath them, as you seemed to accelerate more and more. There was a barrier Soul just drove through, leaving wood and metal to splinter and fly through the air like a last reminiscence of the fireworks earlier. The tunnel was lit up with lamps, brighter than the night beyond, so when the end of the tunnel came into view it was just a growing black hole you were heading for.

You felt dizzy with relief. Finally you would be out of that damned city. The Youngbloods had saved you. You had Jet sitting opposite you, smiling at you as if to say ‘We made it. We really made it’. There were Party and Kobra, the latter’s shoulder pressing to yours, still cool, but slowly growing warmer and familiar. Oh, how you had missed him. And on your other side there was Fun, his arm wrapped around your shoulder, holding you close. You had them back, all of them. You were complete again, free.

The truck sped towards the black hole that was the night beyond the tunnel without slowing down, and the second the cool night air hit your faces, the smell of desert sand filling your noses, the people around you erupted in cheers. Soul Punk kept driving, but everyone was cheering and laughing, hugging each other. You were all alive. You had made it.

But before you could join in on the celebration, there was a tuck at your shoulder, and a moment later warm lips pressed to yours.

You did not think twice as you twisted around so you could kiss Fun back, just pressed yourself closer to him, wrapped your hands in his hair and pulled him in. He smelled of motor oil, and sweat, and pine trees. All these years you had dreamt of kissing him, all these nights you had spent next to him, wondering if maybe he felt the same. And now he was kissing you, breathless and euphoric about the life you finally felt pumping in your veins again.

You laughed as you kissed him, felt his lips pull into a grin too, but he refused to pull back. You had been separated for too long, he had been ready to give his life just so you had a chance to live, and you had proven that you could survive without him dying for you. That you did not want him to make such a sacrifice.

In the back of your mind you remembered the promise he had made you, that he would not try to sacrifice himself, and that he had broken it. But that was secondary now. Because he was kissing you, and your whole body tingled with endorphins, making you dizzy, but still you could not pull away from him, from his chapped lips, his rough hands holding you close.

You could feel his heartbeat, his strands of black hair whipping around you in the wind. When he pressed his tongue to yours lips, you almost flinched in surprise, but parted you lips, letting his tongue slip into your mouth, running over your own.

Fun tasted of freedom, of life, of safety, of love. Nothing in the world would be able to compare to it. His hands found their way through the layers of your clothing, past the once white BLI uniform, and under your normal clothes, until his palms were flat on your waist. Rough hands on delicate skin. You could tell he savoured the feeling of you under his hands, of the life he could feel under his fingertips, and he sighed quietly into the kiss as you cupped the side of his face, pulling him closer to kiss you deeper.

His heartbeat thrummed in his hands, his lips, against your palm as you held his face. He was alive and warm and kissing you as passionately as if he had longed to do it for years. Little did you know that he actually had. His whole body was tense, from trying to hold you to him as close as possible, but at the same time he seemed to relax into your touch; strong muscles and scarred but soft skin. And when he eventually pulled away, lips pulled into the biggest smile you had ever seen on him, you knew that – no matter what happened – you would never be separated from him again.

“I love you,” he breathed over the rushing of wind, just loud enough for you to hear.

You leant in, kissed him again, gentler this time, whispered the words back against his lips, and he tightened his embrace on you, smiling at the confession.

When you finally pulled away, you felt like you were drained off all energy. You had not eaten since this morning, had crawled through sewers, ran up stairs, had thought one of your best friends had died, not once, but twice, had run down stairs, had fought your way out from behind a line of enemies, and still somehow none of this was as exhausting as the feeling of relief to find out your feelings were reciprocated by Fun.

Leaning your head against his shoulder as the truck bumped over stones and rocks, racing through the nightly desert, you found the stars in the sky above you were shining brightly, untouched by the damage BLI caused. It was a comfort, knowing that nothing could touch that beauty, and even if they were not always visible from earth, they would always be there.

Fun brushed his hand over your arm, and rested his head against yours. He whispered something, and almost the words would have been lost to the wind, but you still caught them.

“I’m never letting you go again.”

They made your cheeks heat up, and quickly you turned your head, pressing your lips to the side of his neck.

“Neither will I.”

The sun was rising by the time you had made it to Zone 6. There was no reason to return to the Diner. It had been compromised, you knew that. If BLI had not burnt it to the ground as they had claimed, they at least knew where you had been staying, and it would certainly be swarmed by DRACs in a few hours. Instead Soul had stirred you further to the south, to a small shed, one you had not seen in years. There was one last good bye to make, before you would leave the Zones. It had been decided that you would all go East. To DEMA.

Soul did not drive too close to the shed, just close enough to be able to make out the details. Party was about to jump off the truck, when Kobra pointed to the roof of the shed.

“She’s there.”

Against the brightening horizon you could make out the shape of a person sitting on the corrugated iron roof. At the sight of the stopped pick-up, they stood up. Brown curls stood up into all directions, and they lifted a hand to their eyes, to help them see against the rising sun.

Jet and Kobra got up too, and Fun offered you a hand, as you all stepped to the edge of the truck.

It had been four years since you had last seen the Girl. You had never dared coming back. All she knew was that the men who had protected her had died. She did not know they were back.

Until now.

Even from the distance you could see how surprised she was, and then the relief.

“Wanna get closer,” Soul asked from behind the wheel, but Party shook his head.

Lifting his hands to his mouth he shouted: “Killjoys never die!”

It took a moment, but then the Girl repeated the gesture.

“Keep running!”

Her voice was quiet, clear like a small bell in the cool morning air. It tucked at you heart, and you wanted to run over to her, and hug her for hours, to explain all that had happened. But that would have to wait.

There was a new mission that needed to be taken care of in order to stop BLI from producing new weapons, new nightmarish technology. You needed to leave to protect her. She knew that. She had always known that. She had always been so much cleverer, so much stronger than a child of her age should have to be. And now she also knew that you were not alone anymore.

The truck began moving again, and quickly you all sat down, waving at the Girl until she disappeared in the distance.

There was purpose again, a new goal: Bring down DEMA. There were crews who had requested your help. There were people you wanted to protect, who you cared about. People who loved you as much as you loved them. There was a new fight, a new battle in an ongoing war. You had won the last one with the help of your friends and a mysterious group you had thought were nothing but a legend. You had lost many times, but now that you had won once, and you would win again. For the Girl. For the American Idiots. For the Youngbloods. For Party. And Kobra. And Jet. For Fun. Fun, who had his arm wrapped around you, his head sunk to your shoulder as he dozed off.

You ran your fingers through his hair. Fun. Fun who you always had thought disliked you, but simply did not know how to deal with his emotions. Fun, who got jealous easily, until the moment he knew your heart belonged to him, who was so protective, so fragile, so strong, so stubborn, so loyal, who loved so hard, so much, so deeply. And he loved you.

You kissed his hair, and buried your nose in it, inhaling the same scent that had brought you peace so many nights. Motor oil. Pine trees. You had almost lost him today again. You had been so close to losing everyone. But after all these traps BLI had prepared for you, you still had made it out.

Taking another deep breath against Fun’s hair, you settled in a way that allowed you to both bury your nose in it, as well as keep your lips pressed to his head.

Around you the others, except for Soul who was driving, had already fallen asleep, neither of them having mentioned anything about Fun and you, maybe because they had assumed it was no new development. At least that was what you imagined they might think considering the conversation you had had with Soul about Fun the night before you had gone to Battery City.

Relaxing, engulfed by Fun’s warmth and the safety he provided, you closed your eyes. New adventures were waiting, but this time you knew you would face them side by side with your friends, with the people you trusted with your life. No, they were more than friends, had always been more than that. They were family.

As the pick-up truck kept speeding east, into the rising sun, into a new chapter of your lives, towards a new danger, a new adventure, you could not help but smile against Fun’s hair as you realised that even after your friends had died, they had all come back to life. Maybe there was some truth in that saying, you thought, as morning sun beams, wind and Fun’s hair tickled your face: Killjoys never die.

The End

Taglist:

 @alexstyx​ @jayloverthe3rd​​​​​​​ @robinruns​​​​​​​ @lookalivefrosty​​​​​​ @butterflycore​​​​​​  @omgsuperstarg​​​​​​​ @fivelegance​​​​​​​ @deadlovers​​​​​​ @casmustdiee​​​​​​  @moisheee​​​​​​ @layla2-49​​​​​​ @thewordworrier​​​​​​ @prty-poisxn​​​​​​ @cmtryghoul​​​​​​ @ren-ni​​​​​​  @heartsfromdoll​​​​​​  @phantomluck​​​​​​  

[ozziescribbler]

Can you tell me your opinion on the "dead mom" trope in Hotel Transylvania with Martha Dracula, and explain why "love at first sight" is a harmful trope?

I don't mind "dead mom" in writing all that much... Execution is what makes or breaks that trope. Hotel Transylvania, very much like Finding Nemo, at least has enough dignity to show how the widower dad's grief and trauma influences his approach to single parenting. Which is more than can be said about Disney princesses having dead mothers. Disney dead mom became a pattern to such a degree that Moana's mom allegedly got resurrected during late writing stages (it's quite obvious when you notice how small her role is compared to dad and grandma). Seems like unless widowed dad is a (co-)protagonist, there will be a lot less thought put into making his kid a half-orphan. So yeah, Martha Dracula/Lady Lubov being dead was never the problem.

The problem is Hotel Transylvania's entire philosophy around love, and how in the climax of the first movie Martha is used to legitimize the entire fucking "zing" idea. In one single scene, the script's ENTIRE PHILOSOPHY turns out to be "For a Zing only happens once in your life." The Dead Mom has spoketh and she can not possibly be wrong because moms who are dead are always good and right about everything and only their widowed husbands errr! See: Deceased Parents Are the Best, The Lost Lenore and Too Good for This Sinful Earth on TV Tropes.

It should really go without saying, but let's say it anyway. It's wrong. It's fucked up. It's amatonormative. This movie says that love at first sight is real and that you should blindly follow it because you won't get another chance at it. Imprinting is real and good and fuck you if you think otherwise, I guess. Because it's not like tons of people, in real life AND fiction, happily fall in love more than once or end up in toxic relationships just because there was initial attraction (dare I say, a zing), right? /s

And, as @wormwoodworms commented under my last post about HT, it's just a bad, lazy trope to play straight:

What's the point of love story if it says that true, undying love starts at eye contact? If the movie's central subplot is Jonathan/Mavis romance then WHY can't they just naturally grow attracted to each other? WHY their first impression ("Zing") is given so much significance over the scenes them getting to know one another?

Ironically, as I said before, it's a good thing this flashback to Dracula couple meet cute was left on cutting room floor:

It's sentimental for its own sake and adds nothing. This romance is sufficiently established in other scenes of the final movie. If they left that in, Mavis' dead mom would basically have better established romantic plotline than Mavis herself.

Also, as much as I appreciate third movie letting Dracula move the fuck on and retconning the "once in a lifetime" part for him, BY THE FIRST MOVIE'S LOGIC his second love is illegitimate and he should not marry Ericka. Fuck you, Drac, be lonely and miserable for the rest of your unlife because your one and only zing is dead!

[0nelittlebirdtoldme]

Writer asks

Got tagged by @bluecatwriter. With another year of writing slowly coming to an end, why not look over some of my stuff? Thanks for the tag!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

143 works, however 2 or 3 of them are just some of my crossposted fanart.

2. What's your total ao3 word count? 428,434. Wanted to get to 500k this year, but i suppose i am not quite there yet.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Still just Dracula/Dracula 2020. Some IWTV, some Fight Club. 2 for Empire of the Vampire which i have neither finished reading, nor is there a proper fandom for.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Death's Sunrise (of course, the only fic to gain over 1k kudos). 1,071 as of now

3 Sandman fics i don't care for anymore so i am not gonna name them (if you are curious, just look them up yourself, you know where to find them)

The Gathered Night 

Touch as Soft as Ice (Harkula Tumblr Prompts) (the tumblr prompt collection which i kind of have disbanded by now - i just post the prompt fics by themselves these days)

Ladybugs Don't Fly at Night 

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to, but sometimes i just lack the energy. I do get a lot of comments, in all fairness, but even if i don't reply right away, i just want you to know that i do read and appreciate them all! <3

6. What's the fic you wrote that has the angstiest ending?

The majority is really angsty. If I had to guess, either DS or Completed - a quadruple drabble in which Dracula, in his delusion, is holding onto Jonathan's very dead corpse, somehow still waiting for him to come back to (un)life.

7. What's the fic you wrote that has the happiest ending?

Either something from Castles in the Air, my softer drabble collection, or something like Keeping Family - a very self indulgent murder husbands + accidental baby acquisition fic.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

By god, the things i find in my inbox some days are really something. (Side bar: just because a writer writes specific themes and topic it doesn't make it alright to send them death and grape threats christ on a cracker)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Oh yes. My smut always flirts with the idea of consent and power dynamics. I think it's in general on the more intense side, although i do have some softer, slower works. A personal favorite of mine are the really sweet and sloppy ones - consensual somno and the like.

10. Do you write crossovers?

TGN, my beloved. My Dracula x IWTV crossover. Not really related to either Dracula or Interview with the Vampire, but i just wanted to put my 4 vamps (Jonathan, Drac, Louis and Lestat) like mentos into a carbonated soda bottle and shake them around real good, just to see what happens.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Er. Yes. Was a whole deal. Sorted it out. Kinda. Hope it doesn't happen any longer.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not officially (see no. 11)

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but I would be down for it! I do some beta reading for KINGBeerZ on ao3, both for his Dracula fics as well as currently an original work, which is fun and interesting, but i could totally see myself actually co-writing a fic with someone else if we had the same vision for the story.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Forgive me, but yes, it is Harkula. Sorry not sorry. I like them messy, i like them problematic, and i am aware of it. Also i just like to see Jonathan properly dishevelled and out of breath.

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but don't think you ever will?

There has been one fic i pulled and have not looked at since. It was giving me trouble the second i posted it, made me have a mental break down and freak out. Didn't get much feedback on it the weeks after so i decided it wasn't worth the trouble. Probably wouldn't do it that way these days, but eh.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I feel like i am quite good with dialogue, quick snappy banter and teasing and the like. Maybe also the way i describe pain, body horror, etc.?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Grammar. I swear. As a non native speaker, it is always grammar for me.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I either translate it right away, put it in italics, or leave it as it. Totally depends on what effect i want to achieve.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

With great shame i have to say that i started out on Wattpad. 15 year old me has discovered BBC's Sherlock and was unstoppable (well, at least until i switched to ao3 and nuked the wattpad account). On ao3 my first fic was DS, and the fandom Dracula (2020)

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Hard to say. I still love DS despite the typos and messy plot, and am currently obsessed with TGN. But there are so many others i am quite proud of.

Leaving a tag for @argyleheir as well as @chthonic-cassandra and anyone else who feels like it, but absolutely no pressure!