#no matter what we will fight the metaphorical vampires for as long as the night lasts

[cormancatacombs]

It’s 1922. Nosferatu is coming to theaters and fascism is on the horizon…

It’s 2024. Nosferatu is coming to theaters and fascism is on the horizon…

[prairiesongserial]

21.3

Val stood silently some distance away, fenced in by a pile of baggage, as Friday said her goodbyes to Sacha and his entourage. He didn’t care to find humor in the visual metaphor. He’d barely slept the night before, and he’d spent most of his day in a small, strangely damp cell–he felt like Hell warmed over.

He reached into his pocket for Johannes’s ring, running the pad of his thumb over its outer edge. Keeping it on hadn’t felt right. But he liked knowing it was there. At least he still had something of Johannes’s.

Friday pulled away from Sacha, laughing and waving him off, and finally made her way back across the train platform to Val. Her smile dropped the instant her back was turned to the vampires.

“We should go,” she told him. “If we stay any longer, I think Sacha’s going to think twice about having the royal guard kidnap us.”

“Both of us?” Val asked.

Friday shrugged. “I made it clear that we’re a package deal.”

Val didn’t know how to touch that answer. Instead, he took up a suitcase in each hand and began the process of hauling them onto the train. John had boarded and subsequently disappeared, and Cody had gone after him, leaving twice as many bags to take care of. It was hard to be mad at them when they’d both nearly died a few days ago.

“Let me help.” 

Friday snatched up three of the bags and pushed past him into the train car. She cut a path for them through a crowd of socializing rich folks, occasionally elbowing her way through a group to clear the way for Val, wide-legged pants swishing with every long stride she took. Val wasn’t sure he’d seen Friday wear pants since leaving Maine. On the Demeter, she’d been wearing all skirts and gowns from the costume wardrobe she’d been given.

Val followed Friday through three cars, watching her check doors until she found an empty, private compartment to occupy. With some relief, he stowed the luggage overhead and crumpled into a seat.

“You can just leave me here,” he said, sagging against the cushions. The train compartment wasn’t nearly as comfortable as the lounge on the Demeter had been, but he’d take what he could get.

Friday gave him a strange look, taking the seat opposite his. “You think I want to go back out there?”

Val frowned. He really had. Maybe he’d gotten caught up in the act. The character Friday had been playing, the socialite wife of a film producer, unhappily tethered to a moody and inattentive husband, had suited her so well that Val hadn’t seen past it. . He paid more attention now, and scanning her face, he realized she was just as tired as he was.

“I meant–there’s food out there,” he said, because that was true, and it was an easy way to talk around what was making them both so exhausted. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“Sacha fed me at the palace,” Friday said. “Are you hungry?”

Val was surprised to find that he was.

“I haven’t eaten since before we got off the ship,” he admitted.

“Christ,” Friday said, and rose to her feet. “I’ll be right back.”

She was gone before he could protest. In her absence, the train began to move. Val shifted to lean his head against the window, watching the train platform as it sank farther and farther into the distance, eventually becoming too small to see. He was just beginning to contemplate what kind of body of water the English Channel was, exactly, when the door banged back open and Friday thrust what appeared to be roughly half a baguette into his hands.

“Ham sandwich,” she said. “Enjoy.”

Val could have cried. He ate the sandwich in a matter of minutes, hardly coming up for air until it was done.

“Thanks,” he said, wiping the back of his mouth with his hand.

Friday shrugged. “I know you feel shittier than a sandwich can fix, but let’s call it a start.”

“I’ve felt like shit since we left New Orleans,” Val said. She’d probably been able to tell, but he owed her the explanation anyway. It felt like they hadn’t had an honest conversation in a while, one where they weren’t either fighting or talking about murder. He’d missed it.

“That long?” Friday asked. Her head was cocked curiously–she was studying him with single-minded focus, eyes searching his face like it might reveal something of his thoughts to her.

Val blinked and turned to look out the window again, feeling too seen. He really hadn’t told her any of this.

“Mother Superior told me to stop being a priest.”

“What?” Friday asked, sharply.

“She told me to give up the priesthood,” he said, cheek pressed to the window glass. “She said it’s not my calling.”

“Val,” Friday said. He could see her straightening up in anger in the corner of his eye. “That’s bullshit. You know that’s bullshit, right? You–in Vegas, you had a congregation that loved you. Hell, people who weren’t in your congregation loved you. You��re a great preacher. You fixed the church, you got people to go to church, you turned everything there around–”

“–and then I let my church burn down, and left my congregation behind,” Val finished for her. He ran the fingers of one hand over the burn mark on his opposite palm, tracing the edge of the scar almost meditatively.

“That wasn’t your fault!”

Val sighed. “I don’t know, Friday. Maybe it wasn’t my fault, but maybe it was a sign.”

“Some asshole gang burning your church down is not a sign from God,” Friday said, with more anger than he’d expected from her. He felt her eyes boring into him again. “I don’t care what you believe in. That’s not what that was.”

“Okay,” Val conceded. “Maybe. But I can’t just–Mother Superior raised me, and if she thinks she was wrong to steer me into the priesthood, I can’t just ignore that. Maybe I’m a priest because everyone at the convent expected me to be one, not because I had a calling for it.”

“That’s why you stopped wearing the collar,” Friday said slowly, in realization. “Because of what she said to you.”

Val reached up instinctively to touch his throat. He still hadn’t gotten used to the weight not being there.

“Something like that,” he said.

“Well, fuck that. Who cares what she says? You work it out for yourself whether you should or shouldn’t be a priest.” Friday folded her arms across her chest and huffed, turning her head to glare at the water whipping past below the train.

“I tried that,” Val said. “I tried that the whole time we were with the circus, and…”

The rest of the sentence caught in his throat. He dropped his face into his hands, elbows braced against his knees. No matter what he’d tried after leaving the convent, everything had gone wrong. It was like he’d been cursed. He’d been drugged, almost burnt to death, and attacked by Protestants and cannibals; there had been countless accidents thanks to Ezra, Friday had fallen off a bridge, Cody had been shot, the circus had been scattered, and Johannes…

He sucked in a breath, and reached for his pocket again to make sure the ring was still there.

“Val?” Friday asked.

“I think Johannes is really dead,” Val said aloud–he had to rip the words out, like an old bandage dried onto a wound. He knew it was true, whatever he’d thought he saw. And why wouldn’t it be true? Things hadn’t gone right for him in a long, long time.

Friday didn’t say anything.

“I think…there’s no point in going to Canada,” Val went on, in the gap of silence she’d provided him. His voice was muffled by his palms. “Not for me, anyway. I don’t want to bet everything on someone who won’t be there. I can’t–you can go with John and Cody, if you want, but I can’t do it.”

“Where will you go?” Friday asked.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Mother Superior always talked about wanting to see the Vatican–if it’s even still standing–in Rome. Maybe it’d be nice to go. Figure out if I want to wear the collar again.”

Or talk to someone who can help me believe God hasn’t turned his back on me.

“Bet you could get an audience with the Pope,” Friday said. There was a hint of a smile in her voice.

Val looked at her through the gaps in his fingers, a little reproachfully. “He’s a busy, holy man. He wouldn’t want to see me.”

“You never know,” she said airily. “Anyway, you know I’m coming with you.” 

Val raised his head. “Are you?”

“Of course I am,” Friday said, like it should have been obvious. Maybe she was right, and it really should have been. After all, according to her, they were a package deal. “We’ll make sure John and Cody get their boat to Canada, then we’ll go. They’ll understand, probably.”

“Probably,” Val echoed. He’d let his guilt over giving up John and Cody to the Dead-Eyes carry him this far into the journey–it was hard to imagine not traveling with them wherever they wanted to go. But Friday was right, they’d understand.

“Then it’s settled,” Friday said. “We’re going to Rome.”

Val chanced a smile. “Do we even know how to get to Rome?”

She grinned back at him. “No, but it can’t be too far from here. We’ll figure it out.”

21.2 || 21.4

[five-rivers]

Loved chapter 4

Written for Dannymay 2021 Day 3: Portal, even though the connection is sort of tenuous.

.

Bad things happened when Vlad came to Amity Park. For that matter, bad things happened wherever Vlad was. It was part of what made Vlad Vlad. Some part of his otherness, some twist of the shadow-fabric he was made of that left rot and ruin wherever his hem brushed. Of course, Vlad was never affected by this misfortune. In fact, he seemed to suck the luck out of everyone around him. Like a vampire.

Along with sanity. But that was a given for the others, even partial others, like Vlad. Or Danny.

But Vlad didn’t even try to hide or ameliorate the effects he had on people, didn’t try to keep them safe, to make their lives shine like the precious lights they were.

(Danny drummed his fingers on his chest and wondered, if, perhaps, it would feel less empty if Clockwork let him become a jewel box.)

But that was the way Vlad was, and Danny felt him enter Amity Park like nails on a chalkboard. His skin started to itch. His teeth hurt. Pressure pulsed in his head like waves of heat coming off asphalt. Being human, being real, was too tight, too heavy. It would be so easy to slip into the cool waters of the Dream and cut through them to wherever Vlad was.

No. He couldn’t. As shown time and time again, that would just exacerbate things. No matter what Vlad did, it would be worse if they fought, especially if there was anyone there to see it. Like what had happened with Jazz…

Danny was beyond lucky he’d been able to snap her out of whatever Vlad had done to her, but she still was quite right. The Vultures had actually apologized on Vlad’s behalf, after that.

(And wasn’t that strange, standing in the Dream on ground covered by bones and feathers, the Vultures on a dead tree, speaking as one. A thing of terror, apologizing for their ward. For pain suffered through Love. For lines crossed.)

Still. He had better… supervise Vlad, for a lack of a better word. Make sure he wasn’t getting up to anything. He’d go as a human – as himself.

He sighed and splayed his hands out on the table.

“Something wrong?” asked Sam, who had been making a complex sigil out of her fries and ketchup.

“Vlad’s in town,” said Danny. “I—”

The doors to the Nasty Burger were thrown open with a bang as Jazz came running in. She ran halfway through the store, to weak protests from the employee behind the counter, and skidded to a stop in front of their table.

“Vlad’s here,” he said.

“You saw him?” asked Danny, concerned. “Did he try—”

“No,” said Jazz. “I can just—It’s like he’s under my skin, and I—” She made a sound of frustration and gripped both sides of her head with clawed hands.

“Hey,” said Danny, gently, grasping her wrists. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll take care of it.”

“Okay,” said Jazz, breathing deeply. “Alright. I shouldn’t have freaked out like that.”

“It’s okay,” said Danny. He looked back to his friends. “Anyway, I’m going to go see what he wants, okay?”

“I’m coming with you,” said Sam, standing.

“Me too,” said Tucker. “Sort of. Halfway.”

“You really shouldn’t,” said Danny. “You know what happens when we get together.”

“Which is why we want to back you up,” said Sam. “As long as he stays physical, there’s stuff we can do.”

Unless Danny was prepared to do something incredibly inadvisable, there wasn’t much he could do to stop her. “Okay,” he said. “Just… be careful. If it looks like it’s going to turn into a fight, you need to leave.” He didn’t want them to get anymore spiritually messed up than they already were.

“We know, we know, you give us the spiel every time,” said Sam.

Yes, and Sam ignored it every other time. Danny shook his head. “Alright, let’s—”

Danny was promptly interrupted yet again, this time by his parents rushing in wearing… He could loosely call them clothes.

“It’s retro night, baby!” shouted Jack.

It was not retro night. There was no such thing as retro night at the Nasty Burger.

“I’ll take care of them,” said Jazz.

“Thanks,” muttered Danny, sliding out of the booth. “Come on, let’s go out the back.”

The alley behind the Nasty Burger was fetid in a way that made Danny’s shadow lift from the pavement and float on the air. Something that inhabited rats skittered in the corners at Danny’s presence and ran for a storm drain. He breathed shallowly.

“Which way?” prompted Tucker.

“He’s actually coming this way,” said Danny, frowning, debating facing him in this alley, just to see the disgust that would surely paint itself on Vlad’s face, paper-thin mask that it was.

Reality rippled, the surface tension that kept the Dream from bleeding in snapping. A miasma rose from the ground. Vlad stumbled into the alley, clutching at his face, which was melting. No, transforming. No, stretching. No, layering over itself a in dozen sickening ways, all the masks Vlad wore flickering over whatever truth he had all at once.

“Help me,” he grated. His words felt sick, diseased.

“Guys,” said Danny, fighting back the urge to vomit, “run.”

“No!” shrieked Vlad. “Help me!”

And sanity fractured like glass.

.

Whatever Danny’s parents had done to stabilize Vlad had worked, to a degree. It hadn’t fixed the underlying problem, which Danny could still feel slinking through the Dream. It also didn’t fix whatever he’d done to Sam and Tucker, although it had kept it from progressing further.

Danny took a slow, angry breath and ran a mental count of the lives stored inside his chest. They were there, all of them. Whatever happened to Sam and Tucker, they wouldn’t die.

But Danny knew there were fates worse than death.

His fingernails left half moon impressions on his palms as he clenched his fists. The Dream roiled with his fury, the force of it enough to keep Vlad’s diseased thoughts away.

“Daniel,” croaked Vlad. “Cure me.”

“That’s what Mom and Dad are trying to do.”

“Find a cure for me,” said Vlad, as if he hadn’t heard Danny at all, “and you’ll find a cure for your precious little friends.”

Danny stilled. “You did this on purpose.”

Vlad laughed. “Of course, I did, my dear boy. What value is a simple human mind compared to those such as we?”

Any rage Danny had felt up to this moment paled in comparison. The mirror over the sink cracked down the middle, never to show a true physical reflection again. He hated—

A concerned tug at Danny’s throat jolted him from his thoughts. Clockwork. Clockwork would know what to do. He turned, and without a second glance at Vlad, strode bodily into the Dream.

.

It took Danny even less time than usual to find Clockwork, and, when he did, he immediately found himself at Clockwork’s center, deep within the castle that was his metaphor. Dozens of Chains were fixed to Danny’s collar, each of them completely taut, holding him perfectly immobile, the embrace of a relieved but panicking parent. Clockwork’s emotions, too vast for Danny to fully comprehend, were transmitted directly through those chains, microscopic vibrations raising gooseflesh on Danny’s skin. A wordless noise both distressed and pleased wound its way from Danny’s throat, continuing to echo long after he’d run out of the breath to maintain it.

Clockwork’s avatar cupped Danny’s face in its hands, long fingers almost completely encircling his head. There was more of Clockwork in it that there usually was.

“Clockwork…?” asked Danny, weakly, confused and overwhelmed by the sudden flood of affection.

Poor little one, whispered the avatar, this is what happens when matters are not properly attended to. The Vultures should know better, should take care of him properly… It pressed its forehead to Danny’s, startling a squeak from him.

Danny, reflexively, brought his hands up to clutch at the avatar’s robes.

My poor child. What are they thinking, letting him run around so ill, so that he might infect other children?

Clockwork saw Vlad as a child, too. Not surprising, considering how ancient Clockwork must be, but good to know.

That emotion! It was only a shadow, and even so-!

“Emotion?”

Hatred, hissed Clockwork’s avatar.

The collar around Danny’s neck constricted, a tighter, more Loving, more comforting, hug. Danny gasped, although breathing here was psychological rather than physiological. The cloth of the avatar’s robes began to wind up Danny’s arms.

Even the pale, human shadow of it is not something you should experience, my child.

Danny didn’t like being that angry, but—

Even the concept of it is too much, too heavy. You should not have to bear it. I should not have overlooked it. The avatar’s hands moved to the back of Danny’s head, pressing his face against its shoulder. It must hurt you so,murmured the avatar, carding fingers through Danny’s hair. Fear not. I will excise it. All of it, even the idea of it shall not touch you, shall not sully your thoughts.

The avatar stepped away.

“Wait!” shouted Danny, panicking.

Not being able to hate? Danny had mixed feelings about that, but he doubted he’d be able to talk Clockwork out of it, not with how damaging Hate could be. In the end, it wouldn’t be that much of a loss. Not being able to understand that it existed? Not being aware of hate at all? Being unable to understand that, sometimes, people would go out of their way to hurt one another?

That was dangerous. That would render him unable to even begin to comprehend vast swathes of human history and humanity.

“If I don’t know what it is,” said Danny, “if I don’t know that it exists, how can I protect myself against it?”

A gust of wind blew through Clockwork’s sepulchral hall like the sigh of a giant. It is my duty to protect you, my child.

The sheer possessiveness of the words lingered on Danny’s skin. He wanted to lean into them but held his imaginary breath.

But very well.

Danny let himself relax, slightly, even as the avatar walked to somewhere he couldn’t see, its silent footsteps giving him no clue as to where it was. With only the constant, regular hum and tick of Clockwork’s gears to stimulate him, it was hard for Danny to stay vigilant. He found himself drifting, his thoughts wandering.

Did his hatred of Vlad cause him pain, as Clockwork said? What was it going to be like, to not be able to hate at all, rather than just not being able to Hate? Would he still be angry at Vlad? He hoped so. The man deserved it.

Two points of frigid cold touched the back of his head, contracted into a single point, and pulled. Danny felt something within him come free, and he sagged as much as the chains would allow him.

The avatar walked back into view, and Danny recoiled from the thing he was carrying, clasped in a long, silver pair of tweezers. “Is that,” started Danny, before he swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “Was that in me?”

Yes, said Clockwork’s avatar, lowering it into a small, jeweled box. Danny felt relieved as soon as the lid closed on it and he was no longer forced to look at it. At the same time… Fear not, said the avatar. I could never destroy something of you. It will be remade into something more useful.

Danny nodded as much as he could and shuddered. He felt… dirty. Unclean. Just remembering what he’d felt, what he’d thought… It left a deep sense of wrongness.

Come, said Clockwork. I have just the thing for that. You are due for a bath. A cleansing, inside and out.

The metaphor of the chains fell away, leaving just the one, usual, slack one. Danny knew Clockwork could call them back at any time, that, in truth, they had not gone anywhere at all.

“What about Vlad?” he asked, twisting his hands around the hem of his shirt. “And my friends? Can you help them? Please.”

He felt Clockwork examine him appraisingly.

Perhaps the bath can wait for another day.

.

The mirror was a portal, tall and wide as a door, glassy surface gleaming with otherworldly light. The edges were crimped, filigreed, flared. Beyond the reflection, Danny could just make out the suggestion of movement.

It is not real, said the avatar, putting a hand on Danny’s shoulder, but a might-have-been.

“But I can find a way to fix things in there?”

The avatar did not answer. A prickling feeling rose up inside Danny, settling in his stomach. Somehow, this felt similar to when he’d eaten the mirror with the bad future.

It is,confirmed the avatar, briefly nuzzling Danny.

“Why?” asked Danny, just a little horrified.

Is it not satisfying to complete two tasks at once? I told you, back then, that our next task would be to remove those presents that seek to exclude you.

Danny didn’t understand.

You will. Clockwork’s avatar paused, as if thinking. This is what the Vultures should have done for young Vladimir, although they would have accomplished it differently.

“Oh,” said Danny, trying to wrap his head around that.

Clockwork’s avatar nudged him forward. Follow the chain when you are ready to come home.

.

Danny wasn’t connected to anyone in this might-have-been world. It was odd, watching every eye slide off him as if he wasn’t even there. If he wanted to interact with someone directly, he’d have to put a lot of force of will into it.

It was strange. Other than that, everything here seemed perfectly real. Not imaginary at all. The sun shone. People spoke to one another. The grass crunched under his feet.

The University of Wisconsin-Madison lay before him in all its questionable glory.

He’d have to find Vlad and his parents. They had rented a small lab space for their experiments with the Dream and research into the others.

Normally, he’d follow his connection to them to find them, or the disturbance Vlad made in the dream, but neither of those things existed, now. Not yet. Danny didn’t exist yet.

He could just wander, try to seek out questionable lab space, but the university’s campus was large. Normally, he’d ask for directions, but…

Yeah, the no one being able to see or hear him thing really didn’t allow for that.

But there was one other thing he could try to do, one other thing he could try to sense. Their experiments. They should send waves across and through the Dream.

He let his eyes drift closed and walked blind across campus. When he opened them, he was in a lab, watching his parents and Vlad working on a kind of magic circle, inscribed with runes.

A portal, intended to let humans directly access the Dream. A portal that had created Vlad, all because he leaned too close, watched too closely, seen too much, became something else, changed.

Something like anger stirred under his skin. After this, his parents had continued to experiment, continued to try to reach the Dream, to create a weapon against the others, and in doing so both doomed Danny himself and Amity Park by making what amounted to a highway for the others to come to the real world.

But they hadn’t intended to do that, he knew. They’d been trying as best as they could to fix things. Had been trying to defend the world the best they knew, portal or no portal. And speaking of the portal… If others could damage human sanity, if Danny, small and weak and almost-human as he was, could damage human sanity, then how much more could a direct link to the Dream do? Discounting, of course, that normal dreams could lead to the Dream… That connection was more tenuous. Filtered.

His anger was a distraction from what was really bothering him.

These people, they looked like his parents. They were his parents. But… they weren’t. There was no attachment there. Nothing. It was like looking at empty shells. No Love.

It was distressing.

He watched, waiting, making note of the symbols and the placement of the ritual objects and the technological enhancements. There had to be something here that would help explain why Vlad was having such a hard time, while Danny had transitioned to his present existence without much problem.

He leaned over his not-mother’s calculations, then his not-father’s, made note of the differences. Looked at the fire, the knife, and the carved cylinders. Some of them didn’t feel quite right. One of them had been nudged out of alignment by a soda can put down by not-Jack, shifting the circle, making it bigger. Could that be something?

Vlad leaned over to examine the circle, and, at the same time, not-Jack pushed a button on the tape player, which started chanting. Danny could feel the hole boring into reality before the first syllable was finished. They’d made the portal both too well and too poorly.

Danny reached for Vlad and pulled him back, out of the way of the opening portal.

.

Danny may have made a mistake.

He’d saved Vlad from becoming other. In doing so, he’d changed things, altered this entire make-believe world. The way the story was progressing was no longer the same as his own. Which meant that it might be useless for collecting clues for fixing Vlad, Sam, and Tucker. Mostly Sam and Tucker.

(He’d help Vlad if it wouldn’t hurt his friends, he didn’t hate the man, not anymore, didn’t desire his suffering. But his friends were, of course, his main concern.)

But he couldn’t just leave. He’d made note of all the flaws in the portal, but that wasn’t in any way conclusive, wasn’t a guarantee.

And, in the meantime, his not-parents and not-Vlad had continued working on the portal, which they hadn’t shut down, unlike in the proper timeline. Or had it been disrupted by Vlad? He didn’t remember the exact sequence of events. His parents had never been clear.

But the portal was on, it was working, and it was wrong. Everything was wrong. The portal was in a class of things that should-not-be.

Just like Danny, in this world. He… With the portal, and the way things were going, he shouldn’t exist here, the butterfly effect would keep him from being born, and he was becoming painfully aware of that fact. Literally painfully. It was starting to hurt, being here, a throb in the back of his head.

Or was that the portal?

Either way…

(He couldn’t shake the suspicion that he was breaking things just by being here. Everything was going wrong. So many little accidents.)

(Or was that the portal?)

He kept watching.

It had been… a while, now. It was easy to lose track of time like this, with no one to talk to. Days? Maybe? He’d been drifting, which should have been troubling.

Maybe he should go back. Cut losses.

(Besides, it was disturbing watching his parents flirting with each other. And Vlad. Even if they weren’t really themselves.)

Then his parents wheeled in a… What was that? He walked closer. This was about the same size around as the pillars that had done this to him.

Danny would never forget those, after all.

Something hummed inside him, picking up a kind of resonance between the active portal and the pillar.

The ground fragmented beneath his feet.

Reality followed soon after.

.

He found himself nowhere with nothing. Only nowhere and nothing.

Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no.

What had he done? He’d, he’d destroyed a world, he’d—

There was a gentle, but insistent tug on his chain. He followed it home.

.

He clung to Clockwork’s avatar, gasping, as if he was the only real thing in the world. His emotions were too much, too great, uncontained and roiling. They battered him like a stormy sea.

It’s alright, it’s alright, comforted the avatar. It wasn’t real, and now it never will be. All those worlds where you would not be. All gone.

No. No. No. Horror buzzed in his brain. He couldn’t have destroyed so much.

Never were,continued the avatar, Clockwork apparently oblivious. All disproven. Paradox. You could not be and yet you were. You were in the places you were not. So, now you exist, in all these places, in everywhere that could be, and always will. It stroked Danny, brushing away tears. Only one more to go, until you never were not, my beloved child, until you always were mine, as you were meant to be.

Danny keened into the robes of Clockwork’s avatar, distraught. Wind ruffled his hair.

Considering the point in time in which you were placed, said the avatar, Vladimir will be well again.

Danny looked up, hopeful for the first time in hours.

Mostly. The underlying cause has been removed. You should bring the rest to your… progenitors. They are at least competent in this area.

Danny nodded vigorously and attempted to extract himself from the avatar’s grasp. He was unsuccessful, although the avatar did adjust its grip on him.

You have had a difficult day, it observed. It then presented Danny with a cookie.

Confused, Danny took it.

A gift, said the avatar, Clockwork having evidently returned to his normal laconic mode.

“What’s it made of?” asked Danny, suspicious.

Love. What else?

.

“How do you feel?” asked Danny.

“Weird,” said Sam. “But okay.”

“What was it like?”

Sam shrugged. “It was like…” She waved her hand. “Watching a thousand different movies of my life, but they were all wrong. Like if they were crappy biopics done fifty years after I died or something.”

“Speak for yourself,” grunted Tucker. “I just got a lot of sand. So, so much sand. And sun. Do I have a sunburn?”

“No?” said Danny. “You look fine.”

“Ugh, I forgot you were white. You don’t know what sunburns look like.”

“I’d argue,” said Sam, “but you’re not wrong.” She fell back against her pillows. “I just want to sleep.”

“Same,” said Tucker. “I never want to see the sun again.”

“We’ll make a goth of you yet,” joked Sam, tossing a pillow at him.

“Okay,” said Danny, backing away. “Should I get the lights?”

“You don’t mind?”

“Sleep well,” he said. He hoped they would.

(Because he would not.)

[joviewinchester]

Let’s pretend that Mary is here to add to the *spice* Also major fluff alert. So terribly fluffy endings that they could be a danger to society. Except for the last one. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Also let me know if I should write more stuff with multiple endings because this was super fun.

Imagine dating Dean when Gabriel comes back, and going to stay with Lucifer.

Dean and Y/N were currently having the biggest fight of their relationship. “I still love him Dean! I can’t help it! I thought he was dead okay?! I assumed after he went radio silent he was dead not kidnapped by a Kentucky fried douche bag!”

“Oh! Oh! That’s even better! You knew that Lucifer didn’t kill him and you didn’t think to tell us?!”

“I was protecting him you ass! He would have really died if everyone knew he was still alive!”

“Well, what now, then, huh? I was a fucking distraction from all of your baggage wasn’t I?!”

“Like I wasn’t?! You have so much fucking baggage, it adds on an extra fifty pounds!”

“Well? What about now, Y/N? Even if I’m absolutely pissed at you, I’m still and love with you, and I’ll take a wild guess from when he tried to kiss you and say that he’s still in love with you too, so now what?”

“I’m staying somewhere else for awhile, Dean. I can’t stand being here okay? I love you. You know that, but everything is just so complicated right now and I can’t deal with it.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to stay with Lucifer okay? And don’t tell me that it’s dangerous and he’s an asshole and I can’t because I don’t have anywhere to go. I’m out of options, D.”

“So what? You would rather have a sleepover with the devil than stay here?!”

“Yes okay?! And this is why! I can’t deal with the way you’re being right now! …Look, i don’t have enough energy to fight anymore. Let Gabe know where I went, and just so you know, we’re on a break.”

Dean sadly watched as she walked out of the bunker with her duffel bag on her shoulder. “On a break?” He muttered to himself.

As soon as the bunker door slammed shut, Sam walked out from his room, where he had been hiding. He put an arm around his older brother. “It’ll be okay, Dean.”

“Will it really? Because she’s going to stay with yet another archangel that she, although I don’t have proof, most likely had feelings for, and the other one is staying with us.”

“Oh yeah yeah. Cry all you want, Winchester. You think I’m not upset that she’s staying with my brother who tried to kill me?” Gabriel asked.

“Is all this really necessary? I think we should probably just let Y/N do what she wants, and not fight. She is a responsible adult, and she can make her own decisions.” Castiel chimed in.

“Oh shut up!” Dean and Gabriel said in unison.

“By the way asshole, thanks to you, me and Y/N are on a break!”

“Oh don’t blame me for that Dean-o. You did that on your own. Y/N likes to make her own decisions, and you trying to make them for her? Yeah that was not working out too well. Clearly the only reason she really left was to show that she still had control over her own life.”

“Clearly, she left because your both being completely immature grade a douchebags, who, frankly, no one wants to be around, so shut up, or get a room!” Sam exploded.

They both put their hands up in surrender. “If you really want to know what really happened with Lucifer, I’ve recently come into possession of a super top secret diary of a certain loveable hunter.”

Mary walked in on the conversation. “Don’t you two dare. Just because she left does not mean you get to just take anything from her room.”

Dean and Gabriel both shrugged and sat down at the table. Gabriel began flipping through the pages to find the right date. “Here it is. This is after I went radio silent. You said that she started hanging around with Lucifer three years after my ‘death’ correct?” Dean nodded.

“”Dear Jenny,” Wow she named her diary. Whatever that’s beside the point.

“Dear Jenny,

I definitely made somewhat of a mistake today. Well, I wouldn’t call it that, but I know that the Winchesters would. I, well, I made out with Lucifer last night.

I think I’m in love with him, but then, there’s Dean. I’m starting to think he kind of had a thing for me? But then again, it’s Dean, he probably just wants to hook up or something.

You know, for some reason, I always liked the villains more. I think it might be because, most of the time, they aren’t using a girl. They love her. They’d get down on their knees for her. They’d die for her and do anything for her, and she’d always be their queen. I don’t know maybe I’m delusional.

What would Gabe say though? There’s no doubt in my mind that I will always be in love with him, dead or alive. If I ever got the chance to be with him again, I know that I would choose him, over anyone, Dean and Lucifer included. He is, well was, the light in my darkness, and I know that I‘ll never forget him.” Gabriel closed the diary. He glanced at Dean, trying to subtly study his face. He was clearly upset, and oddly enough, Gabe comforted him.

“Hey, cheer up, okay Dean-o. Let’s look at a further entry. Her feeling about you probably changed.”

They flipped further. It was an entry from last year.

“Dear Jenny,

I almost died today. There was a nest of vampires, and I went in on my own. I feel so stupid. Scratch that. I am stupid. I was lucky, so goddamn lucky.

Dean saved me. I felt really dumb. I hate being the damsel in distress. I was hoping that by going in there, I would take them out on my own and show Dean that I don’t need protection.

He has enogh to worry about, and he is always worrying about me. If anything ever happened to Dean, I don’t know what I’d do.

I know in past entries, things I said were so different, but we’re together now. Things are so different, and I love him so much.

He is my light…in the darkness.” Gabriel trailed off on the last part.

“You make her happy Dean. She’s yours now.”

“No. You made her just as happy, and besides, it’s her decision now. For all we know, she’ll end up with Satan.”

About, a week passed and Y/N was finally home. As soon as she walked in the door, everyone could tell how drained she was. She looked like she hadn’t slept in years.

“Hi.” She gave a weak smile to no one in particular. Now was not a time to play favorites. Then again, maybe it was.

Dean- “So, as you guys know, I’ve been MIA for a week, so I’ve had lots of time to think, and I know what I want. I know that you both probably don’t even want me at this point, but, Dean I love you. I want to be with you, and it was stupid for me to just up and leave. That one week was a living hell without you. Side note, that was a horrible metaphor for me to use.”

Dean pulled her into a tight hug, and buried his face in her hair. “Don’t ever leave me alone with Gabriel and Sam ever again. I know mom and Cas are here, but no one can stop them from arguing constantly but you.” Y/N laughed a little bit.

“I promise that I’ll never leave you ever again. I uh, I bought something while I was gone.” She pulled something small out of her pocket.

“Look, I know that this is kind of untraditional, but that’s who I am. Dean for as long as I’ve known you, you never even thought about a serious relationship, until you asked me out. Like everyone we have had ups and downs, but at the end of the day, I love you and you love me. With this life, you have no idea what’s going to happen next, so I guess what I’m trying to say is, Dean Winchester, will you marry me?”

“Hell yeah! Of course. I’m just sorry you beat me to it. Before our fight, I had this whole romantic thing planned out and-“ Y/N hushed him.

“I don’t want a bunch of rose petals. You’re more than enough for me.”

Gabriel- “Um…Mary can I talk to you?” Mary nodded and followed Y/N to a separate room.

“So, I know Dean is your son, but you’re my best friend and I feel like you’re the only person I can talk to. This may not be what you want to hear, but I’m still-“

“In love with Gabriel. I know n/n. Just let Dean down easy okay? You know how he is with these things. He’s not going to get over it overnight.”

Y/N pulled her into a hug. “Thanks, Mary.”

“Now why don’t you go shower and then talk to Gabe.” Y/N nodded and went up to her room then headed to her personal bathroom.

When she got done, she walked out to her laid out clothes and almost had a heart attack. Of course he would be waiting on her.

“You know, I feel like I already know the answer to this, but do you think I could get dressed before we talk or?”

“Nah. It’s not in my programming to do that.” Y/N grabbed her laid out clothes.

“In that case, I’ll be right back.” She said heading to the bathroom once more. When she walked back out, she sat next to him on the edge of her bed.

“So…” Y/N trialed off, nervously tapping her fingers against her thigh.

“Y/N, I know you aren’t very good at confrontation and stuff like that, but you have a decision to make, and no matter what, Dean and I have both agreed to respect that, even if that choice is neither of us.”

“Gabe, I’ve already made a choice. I made a choice a long time ago. I love you. Even through the years nothing has changed the fact that I love you. You were the first guy, or archangel rather, that I fell in love with, and I want you to be the last.”

“That was the most incredibly sweet and cheesy thing you have ever said to me.”

“Oh shut up, you love me.”

“You know it, sugar.”

Lucifer- “Look, I’m not staying here anymore. I know that might be kind of hard for you guys to process, but I know what I want now, and what I want is not anywhere near this bunker, so to save us all the heartache, I’m packing my stuff up and heading out of here.” She quickly ran up to her room.

“Lucifer.” Gabriel and Dean said annoyedly at the same time.

“You guys don’t know that. Maybe she just needs time on her own.” Sam said.

“Uh... yeah no.” They all turned around, then simultaneously groaned in disgust and annoyance.

“Oh come on. Don’t give me that. I’m a delight to be around. Ask Y/N.” Lucifer stated with a cocky smirk on his face.

Mary scoffed. “You’re a self righteous asshole. I don’t know why she finds any part of you attractive.”

Y/N came downstairs carrying like five bags, and rolled her eyes. “I go upstairs for five minutes and you guys are already fighting. Look, I’m leaving okay! I can’t be here right now! So, just at least let me go peacefully.”

“Is this what your mother would have wanted?” Cas stopped her. Y/N whipped around, and dropped the bags she was holding.

“Don’t talk about my mother! She died saving your sorry ass, so screw you!” Seconds later, they were gone.

“Maybe she’s right. Maybe he is different.” Mary suggested.

“Or maybe she’s blinded like she always has been.” Dean scoffed.

[generic-hufflepuff1]

My Tma favorites (per entity per season)

In honor of the finale of Tma, I'm looking back and going through the seasons and picking out my favorite episodes. I'm sorting them by entity and Im gonna write a little piece at the end of each fear as to why I picked that episode.  It is relatively spoiler free but still keep your wits about you.  

Also this is only up to Mag 197

The Stranger

Season 1: 1 Anglerfish tied with 34 Anatomy Class 

Season 2: 77 The Kind Mother

Season 3: 83 Drawing a Blank, with 96 Return to Sender as a close second

Season 4: 128 heavy Goods

Season 5: 182 Well being, but 165 Revolutions is very very good

Overall: 1 Anglerfish

So all the of The Strangers’ episodes are really evocative and well written and I have to say that it was a very, very close call for almost every single season and I still cannot really decide if I truly like Mag 1 more than Mag 34 but I have to say that Mag 1 is so very good at drawing you into the world and works as a stand alone piece.  

The Buried

Season 1: 2 Do Not Open

Season 2: 66 Held In Customs

Season 3: 97 We all Ignore the Pit

Season 4: 132 Entombed

Season 5: 184 Like Ants

Overall: 2 Do Not Open

I love Mag 2 as the protagonist straight up did not have any of this bullshit.  And they even got a mike drop moment with the frozen key.  Like in this house we stan Joshua Gillespie.  His determination to not have to deal with that shit is so incredibly strong that it sticks with you.  

The Web

Season 1: 16 Aracnopobia

Season 2: 69 Thought for the Day

Season 3: 81 A Guest for Mister Spider

Season 4: 136 The Puppeteer 

Season 5: 172 Strung Out

Overall: 81 A Guest for Mister Spider 

Honestly Mag 81 is absolutely brilliant and serves to contextualise so much of season 1 and 2 and ends up being incredibly important to the world as a whole.  That plus the delivery and excellent premise gives it a slight edge over Mag 172 that is a pure exploration of the controlling and manipulative nature of addiction

The Vast

Season 1: 21 Freefall

Season 2: 75 A Long Way Down

Season 3: 91 The Coming Storm

Season 4: 124 Left Hanging

Season 5: 174 The Great Beast

Overall: 174 The Great Beast

So the first half of season 5 does an amazing job of truely fleshing out each fear and the Vast is no exception.  The split between the two protagonists makes it clear that The Vast is not just about big things or empty space but deep existentialism and the fear of the inevitability of life.  

The Spiral

Season 1: 26 A Distortion

Season 2: 74 Fatigue

Season 3: 85 Upon the Stair

Season 4: 126 Sculptors Tool

Season 5: 177 Wonderland, tied with 187 Checking Out

Overall: 187 Checking Out

This one was difficult as Mag 177 and Mag 187 as both of them lingered in my head for literal weeks after listening to them.  In the end Mag 187 was so completely mind boggling in how it completely changed my perception of the Distortion.  And is a masterclass in writing a character twist.  

The End

Season 1: 29 Cheating Death

Season 2: 70 Book of the Dead

Season 3: 94 Dead Woman Walking

Season 4: 155 The Cost of Living

Season 5: 168 Roots

Overall: 168 Roots

I have quite literally experienced some version of what the victims are describing.  But more than that the realisation of the implications of this domain for the world as it elevates the episode much higher than any of the Ends other appearances as eventually the other entities will fear the End just as the mortals do.  

The Flesh

Season 1: 14 Piecemeal

Season 2: 58 Trail Rations

Season 3: 90 Body Builder

Season 4: 131 Flesh

Season 5: 171 The Gardener

Overall: 171 The Gardener

Everything about Mag 171 just speaks to me.  From the visual it conjures, to the brilliant use of botany metaphor to describe various body image issues, to Jared’s simple but weighty request.  This episode lives rent free in my brain at all times.  This is the first time that I have zero contenders for my favorite of an entity.  

The Corruption

Season 1: 32 Hive

Season 2: 68 The Tale of a Field Hospital

Season 3: 102 Nesting Instinct

Season 4: 153 Love Bombing

Season 5: 164 The Sick Village

Overall: 32 Hive

Although Mag 164 does have a very particular place in my heart and in the history of literature due to its topic and the precise time it came out, but it does pale compared to just how brilliant Mag 32 is.   As the first real mention of the entities it reveals just little enough to keep the suspense whilst providing just enough answers that it's obvious in hindsight.  But once more none of that matters in the face of “There is a wasps nest in my attic” the shere delivery of this episode has placed it in many people's favourite lists.  

The Slaughter

Season 1: 7 The Piper

Season 2: 42 Grifter’s Bone

Season 3: 105 Total War

Season 4: 125 Civilian Casualties

Season 5: 163 In the Trenches 

Overall: 42 Grifter’s Bone

Mag 42 is very interesting.  I’ve mentioned in some of my other posts that Im pretty sure that Jonny Sims finds some fears harder to write and the Slaughter is definitely one of them but I’ve only come to this conclusion by looking at how frequently they show up but listening to the show you would never be able to tell and Mag 42 is one brilliant example of this it is a brilliant way to expand on how the Slaughter manifests.  

The Desolation

Season 1: 37 Burnt Offering

Season 2: 67 Burning Desire

Season 3: 89 Twice as Bright

Season 4: 139 Chosen

Season 5: 169 Fire Escape

Overall: 67 Burning Desire

I find Mag 67 so intensely interesting as it leads into one of the major themes of Tma, that love can and will defeat and overpower even the most gripping fear.  The simple love of a simple man sowed just enough doubt to destroy an avatar of destruction.  Tma is filled with similar moments but personally this one is my favourite.  

The Dark

Season 1: 25 Growing Dark

Season 2: 63 The End of the Tunnel

Season 3: 86 Tucked In

Season 4: 143 The Heart of Darkness

Season 5: 173 Night Night

Overall: 173 Night Night

I remember the reaction to Mag 173.  It was so incredibly powerful to watch most of the fanbase (myself included) react in exactly the same way the characters did to the reality of this domain.  First with dawning realisation, then anger followed sudden confusion at where to direct that anger.  It was quite eye opening to say the least.  

The Hunt

Season 1: 10 Vampire Killer, with notable mention to 31 First Hunt

Season 2: 56 Children of the Night

Season 3: 112 Thrill of the Chase

Season 4: 133 Dead Horse

Season 5: 176 Blood Ties

Overall: 112 Thrill of the Chase

I absolutely love Mag 112.  It is such a brilliant idea, and as a result I end up valuing it a bit more than Mag 133 or 10 which are particularly telling for me as it proves that the Hunt is weirdly the fairest of the entities and absolutely condones fighting back and even killing its avatars or that it just cares about the circular nature of the hunt.  

The Eye

Season 1: 23 Schwartzwald

Season 2: 53 Crusader

Season 3: 82 The Eyewitnesses

Season 4: 138 The Architecture of Fear

Season 5: 183 The Monument

Overall: 138 The Architecture of Fear

Oh Smirke.  Poor naive and enlightened Smirke.  I love Mag 138 more than the other Eye related episodes because it is due to this character that we even have a metric through which to observe the world of tma

The Lonely

Season 1: 33 Boatswain’s Call

Season 2: 48 lost in the Crowd

Season 3: 92 Nothing Besides Remains

Season 4: 159 The Last

Season 5: 170 Recollection

Overall: 170 Recollection

Covid lockdown hit me quite hard and I have not seen a single piece of media that captures the feeling of having hours and days drift into each other quite like Mag 170 so along with Mag 164 it has a very strange place in my heart.  

The Extinction

So this one is a bit of a different situation so im gonna simply list my top five in order

175 Epoch

149 Concrete Jungle

65 Binary

157 Rotten Core

156 Reflection

Mag 175 is another example of a statement that my mind will drift to if I leave it alone for too long.  From the vivid visuals to the subtext of the descriptions to the delivery of every line it is easily one of the best episodes of Tma in my personal opinion. 

[tyrantzeye]

ykw fuck it its not like i have a ton of other things i should be doing rn(sarcasm).... NOW LADIES AND GENTLEMEN AND OTHER ASSORTED FOLK, I NOW PRESENT: ASTOR LOSES HIS SHIT OVER PENELOPE SCOTT'S NEW EP, GIRLS' NIGHT!

verse 1: I've been over the moon for you ever since I met you / You drew the poison from my bloodstream and the salt from both my eyes / You were on loop inside my soul and in my bedroom / And the blood from your mouth drew my eyes up to the sky

verse 1 might be my favorite verse ever written on the face of planet earth....we have the iconic song title mention that almost doesnt match up w the metaphor???? idk ive never seen over the moon used as like aterm for love but rather for happiness in general and based on the other lyrics its not like yk. THAAAT happy. anyways line 2 implies healing and could be interpreted one of two ways - "you make me stop crying" or "you make me cry more" , i personally prefer the latter for reaons to be seen☆ but eifhsr way its such a beautiful line that just fucking CLICKS yk? next one music reference!!!!!!!!!!! i like to think this is where the Depressioncore comes out in tbe song,☆ bc if u play a song on loop for too long u get sick of it no matter how much u love it n every1 has different limits but it all runs oit eventually and the final line of the verse kinda sorta makes a reference to the bloodstream line, maybe implying the poison removal required a vampiric extraction of the blood itself as opposed to just removing the poison, ultimately hurting more than helping, leading to falling over backwards WHICH BRINGS US TOOOO

chorus¹: And on God, I love you / I'll keep you here with me / If I have to fight every devil in Hell / Then I'll run out of blood to bleed / Before I lose you

DIES DIES DIES DIES DIES DIES so we have a lot of blood motifs in this song and i personally like to thnk its sort of a monster reference thing and this tie to the moon and night and these traditional horror.monsyers everyone knows about and how you could use vampire shit as a general metaphor for like affection(of all forms cough cough) and werewolves for a loss of control yk.?? but also blood is what keeps us alive and shows the more ACCURATE observation of "you are worth so much to me that i would give up my Life Juice in your name"bc tbis wbole song is ab longing and wishing that a dead relationship woukd rise again(HAHAHAAHAH VAMPIRE) and that yr js not ready to let n matter how much pain it causes and ws see that escalate with each verse☆ and its fuckinf BEAUTIFUL my dude

verse 2: Every war has its casualties and mine are no exception / I've lost young and handsome soldiers, and it haunts me behind the eyes / In my most recent endeavors I burned six or seven lovers / They were beautiful and innocent, and I had to trade them for my life

we move on from these vague maybe monster references to war similies and metaphors , which is probably a reference to current world events but also showcases how this sort of thng makes you feel inside bc theres this thing ab loss and war thats so emphasized overall even if in the wrong way and penelope compares it to how she feels ab her previous relationships n how she had to sacrifice them so she could find what makes her happy but at what cost? at what point is ANY of it worth it if she has to live with this guilt of feeling like shes betrayed these people forever and ever who were innocent and full of joy and hopes just like she once was before it all came to this? it haunts her like trauma would and it probably is trauma bu UGHDDHDDHSHDH THE WAR METAPHOR MAKES IT HIT SM MORE DIFFERENT sorry next one next one

chorus²: And on God, I love you / I'll save you from that fate / If I have to kill every angel in Heaven / I will snatch you back from the grave / And you will live to see my bed another day

GRAAAGDHHEJSJENSJNHESJ THIS IS MY FAV CHORUS EVR ALSL i feek like this is where everythung kinda ckicks in yr head n u get what shes talking ab SO we start off with a reference to the previous verse, stating that she wont let that happen to her current partner at evwey cost, rven turning to the evil of the world("killing every angel in heaven") just to mane sure this relationship that was doomed from the start stays afloat N BREAK 4 A MOMENT MID SENTENCE i woild like 2 point out the contradiction of "on god i love you" and "if i have to kill every angel in heaven" n ik ong is a figure of speech or whtvr tf internet vernacular but i feel it hits so hard in this chorus??? the very nature of this dilemna is contradictory itself and theres nothing she can do about it and it all ties back to this idea of inevitable love and ievitable failure of tjat love but having this deep need for human connection that youll dtick with it even if it hurts you to the core even if she has to bleed out and kill and fight and struggle she will keep this alive and going because what else is there to fight for? and what else is there to do but wake up in ned the next day with someone she can at least pretend she loves?

SUMMARY: over the moon is a song about yearning for love in a loveless relationship and refusing to give up at all costs, and this is showcased in every verse and line and woven deep into the core of the song and emphasized by the way everything conflicts and every sentiment eventually just leaves one person alone in the aftermath despite all the efforts taken to avoid it.and yeahsjes!!!!!

might cave in and post lyrical analysis of my favorite songs

[rokutouxei]

a storm of a woman

part 7 of atelier heart

ikemen vampire: temptation in the dark theo van gogh/mc | T | 3146 | [ao3 in bio]

a/n:just pure, tooth-rotting, domestic fluff, because the latter part of Theo’s route is just miles and miles of agony.

a series of snapshots in the daily life of Theo, now romantically entangled with you, a storm of a woman, if he had any say in the matter.

Theo has always been an early riser. He likes to get his day started as the sun is rising; it gives him an extra boost of energy and motivation like no other. But as of late, he’s had some motivation to stay in bed a little longer than he ever has before, if only to watch you for a few minutes, sleeping soundly next to him.

You usually scoot extra close to him at night, so he’s careful as he wakes up so he doesn’t jostle you or get you out of your comfortable position. Presses a kiss on whatever patch of skin is closest to him—your shoulder, your cheek, your hand—and watches: sea-blue eyes trained on the person he loves the most. Joins you in your synchronized breathing, in, and out, you give him a peace the sunrise can’t compete with.

His stubborn mind and experience tells him it’s wrong, but somehow when you’re with him he feels like nothing can go wrong—that this is the epitome of peace—that it can’t get any better than this. So much has been lost to him, so much has been left behind, so much has passed. Fate has been crueler to Theo than he ever was to himself in many ways, and yet you’re here now, like an apology, like a recompense for all the misery.

So Theo takes his time with you.

The healthy sheen of your skin under the early-morning sun; the tenderness of your flesh; the curl of your eyelashes against your cheek as you’re deep in sleep. The gentle in and out of your breathing; the warmth of your hand curled against his; the thrum of your blood underneath your veins reminding him: you are here, you are here, you have not let him, and if the world is kind, you never will.

But nothing—nothing!—knocks the wind out of him in his early-morning reverie quite like your sweet, sweet smile, your scrunched eyes, the soft sound you make as you stretch, reaching out to him in many ways, and your groggy, hoarse, “goedemorgen”—

Oh, you’re so bad for his heart.

-

It is simple to say I want to become an art dealer too but much harder to do, so once you’ve finally made up your mind to follow him on his journey, the learning begins. While of course there are many things you learn on foot, like in between exhibits or visits to artists and patrons, there are also other things that you learn in between pages of a book. Like art history, techniques and styles, methods and design. Theo is a stern tutor, and the both of you spend nights huddled up on his bed in his room memorizing and discussing, making connections between observations in real life and things learned on paper.

And it’s not like you’ve come from the 21st century entirely empty-handed, so when he teaches you about this or that era you can name a few artists, the most familiar of them. But what excites Theo the most is when you talk about the future. Pathways of art that have long been found from where you are from that are still being looked for; he makes sure to take note of the names you mention, the timeframes. And when he does, you’re always laughing because “how did it end up that I’m the one teaching you? Theo, focus!” is such a fun way to tease him, but—

(you always talk about the future with wide-open eyes, and Theo can’t help but dream of even the most unimaginable things coming true with you)

He has so much to learn from you, how can you blame him from staring?

-

There are loud days. Disagreements aren’t that surprising when Theo’s words are commonly coated in barbs, and no matter how long you’ve spent with him there are a few things you just can’t let pass. So there are days you fight. Sometimes it is quiet; cold shoulders and unwillingness to cooperate. But on others, it is loud. You are screaming down the hall and telling him you don’t understand why he has to be so stubborn and he asks why you have to be so insistent.

The room is cold.

Today, you’re fighting over something so silly he doesn’t even quite remember what it is anymore, maybe just a slip of the tongue or some unmeant insult—but either way, the one thing he does know is that it isn’t worth all of this shouting. You’re sitting on the other side of the bed from him (his side of the bed, ironically) with your arms crossed over your chest, a deep frown on your face. And maybe if Theo listens even closer, he’ll be able to make out your little sniffles.

He knows that getting into disagreements with him makes you the most upset, but they are unavoidable, not when he is stubborn and insolent like that and you are a hundred years from the future. It’s understandable, he knows, but it doesn’t have to be normal.  

So he reaches out to place his hand on yours from across the bed, and when you flinch and pull back he holds it down. “Let’s talk,” he says, softly, as to not scare you, “I don’t want to fight anymore.”

And you turn, smiling weakly at him, and softly say, “I don’t want to fight anymore either.”

-

Then there are quiet days. Days for recovering after a long week at work, days for just relishing in each other’s company. Somehow, the two of you have found a way to spend these afternoons lounging in the mansion’s rather impressive library, picking up books and reading it to each other.

You’re holding up a book of Classical Literature, a stack of other books on one side, as you’re prancing around on the carpet in front of the sofa where he’s laid down, happily reading out loud the cheesiest of lines from literature, ones he tries to counter back. Though at this point, the both of you have prepared for this exchange in advance, so most of the lines are said from memory; the conversation goes:

You say, “Your love is the weather of my being. What is an island without the sea?"

He says, “I love thee with a love I seemed to lose with my lost saints.”

“In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you,” you say back, with as much flair as you can.

And Theo says in turn, “She walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies; and all that’s best of dark and bright meet in her aspect and her eyes.”

You grin just as you say your winning line, reading, “My love is as a fever longing still, for that which longer nurseth the disease,” and Theo gasps, offended—

“Is that Shakespeare? How dare you!”

And he pulls you by the wrist as the two of you tumble onto the sofa, laughing, legs tangled together in the most inappropriate of ways, sharing a kiss.

-

You go on dates. You say that every work day spent with him is nearly like a date anyway, when it’s all enjoyable, looking at art and going to different parts of the city and sometimes even out of the country, but he makes sure to take you out on rather “normal dates” too. A lot of it depends on the schedule, but “normal dates” include at least one of the following: going to galleries, walking along the Seine, eating at new (or old, familiar) cafés, taking King out for a walk, or taking a carriage to nearby towns.

It doesn’t help, though, that when he is alone with you, with no work to think about, no worries, he gets so distracted because all he has to think about and focus on is you. It doesn’t help either that he’s constantly still trying to make sense of how you make him feel, a million different metaphors rewriting itself over and over again in his mind.

The one that sticks with him is that you are like a drop of rain after a long-lasting drought; the beginning of a storm. A storm that will turn into a flood, ravaging the hills, causing landslides. Drowning villages, leading rivers to overflow into the ocean. A storm that will take everything with it—and one he will take for washing away all that he’d have.

You’ve made him new and it hurts and it’s raw but you’ve made him who he wanted to be.

“Theo?”

Oh, the sound of his name on your lips; he returns back to the present and looks up at you with that lovestruck smile he doesn’t know he wears. Regularly. You get lost in it for a moment, before the flush settles in your face.

In mock anger, you furrow your eyebrows. “What were you thinking about?”

“You,” he quickly answers, and you feel your effort to tease him come rebounding back at you in ten times the force. What can you do when it’s you who had opened up his heart to honesty—but to suffer the brunt of the blow?

-

Theo cannot deny the fact that he is some sort of workaholic, but just because his work ethics are like that does not mean yours have to be the same—is what he constantly says to you. Not that you listen, because yet again he’s found you hunched over a desk in between sorting documents and checking your notes, and with a tsk and a gentle pat on your head he’s off carrying you to bed. This has happened once or twice now, but tonight’s is different, because you’re burning up with a fever that’s snuck up on you in between all the fatigue. In the morning, you wake up dizzy, and hot, the sun already high in the sky and Theo’s half-dressed, as if hesitating.

“Am I sick?”

Theo frowns. “Can’t you tell?”

“Just making sure,” you say, with a cough to match it.

He sighs in response and sits next to you on the bed. “I thought you’d get better by morning.”

“Wait, we have an important meeting today, don’t we? Oh, today’s supposed to be full. Artists in the morning… tools in the afternoon… the patron by evening.” You shake your head weakly. “Don’t worry about me, go to work.”

“I don’t think I can go when you’re like this.”

“You have to!” you say, but your voice betrays you. You clear your throat and try again. “No really, I can handle myself.”

He presses a hand to your warm cheek and frowns out of worry. “I’ll need to go to that patron by evening, but I can stay with you for the rest of the day.”

You want to argue that he has to go—which is true, even your feverish mind can figure that out—but there’s only so much you can do when your mind feeds you the rest of the images on its own: Theo next to you for the rest of the day, which instantly makes you feel calmer. Theo giving you water when you’re too dizzy to stand. Theo helping you eat. Theo holding your hand. Theo easing you out of your fever just by existing. You sigh, then curl up against his body, pulling the blanket with you. “I think I’m delirious. I’m giving up. Please stay.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead and then slapping a wet towel over it for good measure.

-

Theo isn��t the kind to jump at all your bad ideas, but it doesn’t take much to convince him to do it anyway, so now the both of you are cuddled rather awkwardly in your shared room’s private, solo bathtub. The new equipment of running water thanks to the turn of the century but also Le Comte’s great influence as a nobleman is something you were not going to take lightly.

Theo’s got in his hand a bottle of your homemade shampoo, and you’re holding in yours a bar of your also-homemade soap, because as much as you’ve gotten used to 19th century life, you’re still up for 21st century bathing techniques, should the opportunity arise. You’ve asked Theo to wash your hair, saying that you’ll in turn wash his back, but he’s too fixated on trying not to get your ass pressed too hard onto his crotch, because one more time and he’s sure he’ll—

You make a noise that is borderline pornographic just as Theo returns to the task of massaging the shampoo onto your scalp. The sound goes straight between his legs, and when he growls, you turn to him with a silly grin.

“Need some help there, big boy?” you ask, and Theo growls as he pulls you closer by the waist.

“You’re doing it on purpose!”

-

“I told you to be careful,” he sighs, as he puts you down on top of a low cabinet, making sure not to jostle your scratched knee. You had tripped while rushing past a crowd in the middle of running errands with him and had landed rather terribly, considering you did have layers and layers of skirts and petticoats on top, and you still landed knee-first onto the pavement.

You pout and it doesn’t show on his face but you know just that expression on you is enough to let you off the hook with Theo. Especially if it’s such a small thing such as this. “I’m sorry. It’s not too bad though, at least it didn’t bleed that bad.”

And it didn’t; just a light scrape that has made the flesh pink, but one that could probably use a bit of antiseptic and maybe some gauze. Theo has carried you directly to one of the buildings the both of you have rented lately, to be used as exhibit space, fully knowing he has a first aid kit in there somewhere.

You clean yourself up with antiseptic, and Theo holds the gauze in his hands, still (faux) glaring up at you. “From the moment I’ve met you up until now, you’ve done nothing but worry me. When are you going to stop?” he asks with the most overdramatic sigh you’ve ever heard from him. Well, he’s getting better at his acting, at least—and it’s rather amusing.

But instead of praising him, you go the roundabout way, the way he does, just to bite back at him. “You should stop worrying now, because now you are at least watching over me, right?”

And he groans in defeat, but he knows you’re right.

-

A phonograph is nothing to Bluetooth speakers of the 21st century but it’s still music, and the two of you are in one of the rooms in the mansion that’s being used as Vincent’s little storage area for all his paintings. There’s no need really for anything to ease boredom or exhaustion, because Vincent’s art is all magic and stunning in one place, but Theo’s set up a phonograph on the corner anyway, to play some music as you two go through the piles of canvases for paintings that will go along with the theme of the new exhibit the both of you are planning.

There’s nothing quite like appreciating art while a little tipsy though, and the whiskey you’ve been drinking (happily gifted by Vollard) makes it easy for the both of you to get lost in the music, to get distracted by its swaying tunes—and soon the two of you are face-to-face, slow dancing in the middle of the room under the late-afternoon sun peering through the window. Theo’s got his arms around your waist and your hands are around his shoulders and you have a cheek pressed against his chest.

One song slides into another and maybe they’ve replayed already but you’re not quite sure, not when Theo’s already tilted your face up to share a kiss—he had told you once that sometimes he just can’t stop kissing your stupid, stupid face—and you’re laughing into this one at the memory. He gives you a look but you shake your head and kiss him again, the kiss like something the both of you are not taking seriously, just something passed around. Clumsy mouths pressed against each other. Back and forth, back and forth, you’ve taught him, this is what it means to share, you say, this is what it means to not carry it all on your shoulders. And after one impertinent round of laughter he bites your lower lip and tugs—and you’re not one to be bested so you curl your fingers into his hair and pull, and the kiss is something and everything all at once.

It steals Theo’s breath away and he’s thanking it.

Your lips on his, the warmth of your touch, the music, the setting sun—this moment feels like it will last forever.

-

Theo thinks of much of his life—both in this and the past one—shrouded in a veil of darkness, the same way dark clouds cover over the sun just before it crashes and falls. But you’ve made him think differently of storms now. A storm that will take everything with it—that’s what you are to him, and at this point, he doesn’t mind if you ravage his lands as long as he gets to keep you, the rain that makes his flowers grow.

And one morning, Theo wakes up, much, much too late, on a day-off, after a very, very busy night in bed, to find you already bundled up and curled up on the armchair near the window, sipping a warm mug of coffee. It’s raining outside, mid-autumn showers that make the red leaves fall.

You look so lovely.

So delicate, so strong, and yet so fervent.

Oh, to fall for a storm of a woman like you.

You are teasing each other for morning breath as you both wake up. You the future he is trying to build. You are the arguments settled between bouts of tickle fights and laughter. You are centuries of books on romance combined. You are running in the rain because it suddenly poured and there is no shelter. You're warm soup and fresh bread. You're pushing all the limits. You're comfort and adventure.

He thinks back to everything that has happened in the past. To everything else that can happen in the future—the good, the bad, the ugly. And he hopes, hopes deep inside his heart, that nothing goes wrong. Nothing goes wrong when you’re with him after all.

So it’s himself he hopes for. Hopes that he can get this right, this time around.

-

in the atelier: The Storm, by Pierre Auguste Cot

[skzafterdusk]

lee minho + "And July"

request from the Dean Title Track List

tags: vampire!reader, immortal!minho, daddy kink

The sun has already set; you can tell that much. If it hadn’t been for the darkening cracks in your closed blinds, you would have never noticed the way the room around you has grown dim. You could turn on the kitchen light, flicker on a lamp in the living room, but you were almost petrified in your spot on the kitchen counter; your right leg bent so your arm could rest on your knee, and your left leg dangling over the edge. Any bruises you probably had on your face hours ago have already healed, the pain long gone, as well.

Minho’s body is just in eyesight from where you’re sitting. Splayed out and unmoving, you pay close attention to this heart in his chest that remains still. You’d snapped his neck hours ago, but you count down the moments.

10 metaphorical heart beats…

9…

8…

7…

The silence should be deafening with not a single breath to inhale. But you quite enjoyed the feeling. Even after years of being undead yourself...to not need the oxygen in your lungs...but to prefer it. Odd.

5…

4…

You like to wonder if this time will be different. So many shows would like to have you believe that coming back to life is like crashing into your own body, the sudden way one wakes up after dreaming of falling to their demise. Minho never came back in that manner.

3...2...1…

It’s always the first beat of the heart. The first noise to fill the apartment in so many hours. Then it’s the rush of blood as they circulate through his veins. And he takes his first breath...his lungs fill with a mighty gulp of air...but he remains still. And it’s the softest sound, but you can almost make out the flutter of his lashes when he blinks his eyes open. And thus, Lee Minho has come back to life, yet again. And the fun shall continue.

“Good!” You exclaim, moving your stiff joints to hop down from the counter. On the impact of your bare feet hitting the floor, it’s met with the crunch of some snack-like food; chips, perhaps. But the crumbs under your feet are of no importance as you make your way through the doorway and into the living room. That is when the comparatively softer bed of broken chips turns into a gravely path of broken glass. Never the most comfortable, but you’ll live.

Minho is just beginning to stir, sitting up in his spot and going to nurse his head as if he suffered from a night of drinking heavily, to the point where his body screamed at him in agony from the inside out.

“You’re awake,” you say cheerfully, a too innocent grin on your lips.

The man huffs as he rubs at his eyes with the heels of his palms. “You bitch.” Such a simple statement that holds the weight of his anger.

Anger, of course, that can only spell fun for you.

“You’ve called me much worse.” Your statement only holds objective truth.

He’s finally able to stand up, slow at first, but his energy seems to flow through him once his eyes land on you. Are you the predator or prey? It’s usually so hard to tell, really.

He stalks towards you in an instant, making sure to crowd your space and look down at you from under his nose. “Why the fuck did you kill me?”

You shrug with a scoff, electing to move past him and further into the living room. You’d left it in disarray after you guys had begun fighting. Drinking glasses hurled at walls, chairs and tables strewn about. You go to turn on that lamp, the only one still managing to stand after the hurricane that is you and Minho.

You’re not entirely sure what his excuse is, but immortality has left only two states of mind for you: insufferable boredom or rollercoasters of emotions. Clearly, one of them sounds more entertaining, yes?

The warm light of the lamp illuminates the chaos around you. Your voice, as you answer, doesn’t necessarily fit the current state.

“You were getting annoying. You probably would have tried to stab me if I hadn’t gotten to you first.”

Unfortunately for Minho, though, is that in some places, stabbing is quite...exhilarating. 

The immortal other seems to be at a loss for words, since he decides to go to the kitchen rather than come up with a response to your excuse.

“All the time I was out and you couldn’t bother to clean this place up?” grumbles Minho, searching through a cabinet before finding the prize, a bottle of whiskey. 

You turned your nose up at the sight of the bottle. You hated the taste of whiskey, and you hated even more the way Minho’s blood tastes after he had his fill. It was a sure way to make sure you didn’t feed on him, which must be the payback for...well...yknow.

“I didn’t make the mess by myself. We clean it together if you’re so worried about it.”

He doesn’t even bother getting a glass (possibly he wouldn’t be able to find one), just tears the cap away and starts taking swigs.

“Only thing I’m worried about is how I’m gonna get you back for snapping my neck.”

You roll your eyes as you lean against the wall adjacent to the kitchen doorway. He’d turned on the dim fluorescent light. The scar on his lip and cheek are still there because his bruises don’t heal quickly like yours. No matter for you. You’ve always preferred the look of him a little beaten up.

“Think this through, babe,” you start. “If you try anything, you’ll be stuck with this messy place until I can wake up.”

He makes sure to take a longer drink before slamming the bottle on the counter. Again, as he stalks towards you, he almost looks like the predator, like he’s capable of doing any real harm to you. He’d get pleasure out of it, regardless. 

His grip is firm when he grabs your face, fingers digging into your cheeks until they plump up and pucker your lips. 

He spends a long while just examining your face, eyes flitting to your lips, searchin your eyes, observing and appreciating the slope of your nose. What he sees makes him smile; it’s a sadistic premonition for the near future, the dark behind his white teeth. 

“How about I whip out the cuffs? Know how much you hate being tied down.” His breath already smells like the cursed wood barrel that stored his whiskey, but you make sure to keep your face cool, so as not to show him how he’s already getting under your skin.

“Please, you love it when I scratch you up. No need to torture yourself, as well, daddy.”

His smile drops immediately at the pet name, eyes of fire suddenly bursting with fury. “Told you never to call me that.”

You shrug. “Not my fault you can’t handle your own kinks.” He snaps your head back until it meets the wall. The angle is awkward enough for it to not cause much impact, unfortunately. “Aw,” you coo. “Did I make daddy angry?”

His hand goes down to close around your neck, just under your jaw. The air you’d been breathing cuts off immediately. He already knows it doesn’t make much difference to you, but the pleasure still starts to travel south, waking your core to the possibility of what Minho might do to you in his fit of rage.

“You’re so lucky you’re already dead. How would you and your filfthy mouth survive otherwise?”

Your time as a human started fading by the end of your second decade as a vampire. It wasn’t much of a life, and Minho had known exactly why. A survivalist like yourself knew when to speak and when to keep her mouth shut. But being at the top of the food chain...well…

“And you’re lucky you found me.” You bring a hand to rest against the hand fisted around your neck. You can feel the pulse of the veins in that hand. Maybe he didn’t drink enough to make his blood taste so strongly of the alcohol. Maybe you’ll be able to bypass it. “You know how boring your immortal life would be if I hadn’t come along?”

He laughs loudly, but no humour resides in its hearty sound. His jaw is clenched, grasp growing stronger around your neck. Cutting off circulation to veins that need not produce new or fresh blood. You’d say his efforts were all for naught, but then that wouldn’t take into consideration the way liquid fire seemed to drip from your pores in anticipation. 

“Do you think I enjoy being killed?”

“Don’t make it sound like I do it that often, daddy, be reasonable.”

If you were a human in this moment, everything would have happened like a blur in front of your eyes; the way Minho dragged you from the wall, throwing your body to the floor -you probably wouldn’t have noticed the shards of glass that broke through your clothes and cut through your back-, how he suddenly was on top of you, taking one of the bigger shards and pressing the jagged edge to your throat. One wrong move as a human, and you would have been dead.

But you’re not, and the thrill that comes is not of terror, but of excitement. See? Had you been wrong?

You can feel his semi-hard length against your stomach. It makes a smarmy grin grace your lips, challenging eyes looking at his. “Fucking knew it. Daddy gets so hard-”

“Do you ever stop talking?”

With a nod, you answer matter-of-factly. “Yeah, when you’re dead. Then I don’t have anyone to play with.”

The glass must have cut Minho’s hand, for soon the sweet smell of iron fills your nostrils, and the crimson drips to the point of the glass that meets your skin. Automatically, your fangs elongate from your gums, and your mouth begins to salivate.

“Let’s stop fucking around,” you suggest, voice a mere hiss. “And let’s play some games.”

Minho doesn’t see the world as you do, doesn’t get the advantage of the same reaction time. That’s why he isn’t able to stop you before you can rip the glass from his hand and sink your teeth into the heel of his palm. It’s not the best place to bite from, but the skin there is always easiest to puncture, and the blood likes to flow freely there.

The first mouthful of blood is always bliss, so satisfying like jigsaw pieces slotting into place. It’s so euphoric, you remember you’d have tears in your eyes your first few feeds. Immortals like Minho are rare, but they’re the best source to feed from. His blood doesn’t taste any better, but he’ll be around way longer than any human can.

He grinds his hips down, looking for friction, pleasure. You pull away, reveling in the blood that slides down your throat, before sitting up, your faces breadths apart.

“Looks like daddy wants to play.”

“(Y/N)...” he only calls your name like a warning, seemingly somewhere between anger and pleasure. He still wants to have an upperhand.

Maybe tonight you’ll let him. As an apology, of course, for killing him.

[mhaccunoval]

i finallyyyy finished the explanations for my tlb playlistttt so come get yall juice

if you haven’t already seen my first (official) post about this silly little playlist then you are still in luck !!! here is the spotify and the youtube links !!! oh yeah also all of the songs are in chronological order (maybe not by month but definitely by year) because i had to be organized like that sbjhshsjbs

———

❥ title

i mean. there isn’t much to explain about it but sbjshbsjhs it’s based on sam’s line “you’re a creature of the night, michael!” of course but i made it plural because this playlist is sort of a. general boys / movie playlist, if that makes sense??? but yeahhhh they’re all littol creechers who love the night >:o]

———

❥ paint it, black — the rolling stones

so !!! i was kind of trying to relate it to the boys vampirism and. love of black clothes sbhsjbshjs but no. similar to the title, they. literally live in darkness because of not being able to go into the sun and because of the few lights in the lair but there’s also a sort of duality where being vampires in an internal darkness??? like. each of the boys takes heavy advantage of the benefits of being undead but i can’t imagine it’s without its faults outside of the lack of sunlight and such. i’m sure there’s a kind of uh. monster complex that follows it, especially with the way outsiders view them, which certainly fits with the song’s vibe of being washed with this sort of sensory overload to color and earning weird looks for it

———

❥ riders on the storm — the doors

first of all, there’s a giant ass jim morrison poster in the lair therefore the boys definitely listen to the doors (if not idolize jim) so jot that down. but also !!! it has very Them vibes !!! i think the storm effects definitely relate to boys in how storms create a darkness that is soothing in its own way, and comes on strong, just like the boys’ presence. and. technically they Are killers on the road that Will kill a sweet family sbhjsbshjsb but no most of all the !!! “into this house we’re born // into this world we’re thrown” and !!! the found family that the boys have going. like, if you look at. vampirism as the house they have LITERALLY been born into it and been thrown into a whole new world, depending on each other for comfort and pleasure !!! oh also. they ride motorcycles so they’re also literal riders sbhjsbshjs (fun fact, according to genius lyrics: apparently it was the last song jim recorded before he died a few weeks later 😳)

———

❥ love her madly — the doors

whole jim morrison poster and listening to the doors reasoning is sustained. HOWEVER for the rest of reasoning… perhaps it’s more straight up 95060 than anything but sbhsjbsshj the whole woman walking in and out of the audience’s life is very symbolic of michael being in and out with the boys, never really deciding whether he wants to fully join them and straining. all of his relationships with that indecision and sitting on the picket fence (those who sit on the picket fence are impaled by it). although, it could also be partly symbolic of that indecision, as he does find Some charm in the boys’ lifestyle and keeps finding himself drawn back enough to even consider partaking in it. also, if you wanna go the parko route, paul loves marko madly enough to go after the frog bros personally for killing him <3

———

❥ walk this way — aerosmith

i am. blanking on how to tie it in other than being on the movie’s soundtrack (yes i avoided it and people are strange until the very end of making the playlist, but one of the evils got me clearly— have always ADORED people are strange though). but. i guess you can make the case that the song is full of innuendos and some scenes, like the feeding scene, are lowkey horny sbsjhbshjsbs and YES it’s the aerosmith version instead of the run dmc one because. i prefer this one and it’s my silly little playlist <3

———

❥ the boys are back in town — thin lizzy

technically the boys never Left town but !!! *christopher walken voice* Boys !!! them cast ARE crazy and they’re ALWAYS dressed to kill, ready to spill some blood and pick a fight !!! yeah no it’s just a very fun song that i think really works to. represent their crazy lifestyle and infamy around town due to causing trouble !!! and you can almost say that in this scenario star is the girl who used to dance a lot and slapped the shit out of someone <3 just girlboss moments <3

———

❥ xanadu — rush

hehehe… this started as the. desire to add more rush to the playlist for my own amusement but the more times i listen to it, the more i’m like “!!! it actually fits”… like. xanadu here is meant to a sort of utopia that’s long searched for, partly BECAUSE of the promise of immortality which !!! the boys have (unless. harmed in one of the ways at the end of the movie) because of their vampirism. like even if we don’t know the exact reasons they got turned, they all still, mostly indirectly probably, sought out that same principle. And the dining on honeydew and drinking the milk of ‘paradise’ is similar to their thrill-seeking tendencies and general enjoyment of being unable to die, leaving them to enjoy their undead lives to the fullest. not to mention, in [b part 2] (as genius refers to it) there’s talk of many, many years passing and waiting for the world to end, which we know there’s been quite a few years in between the boys getting turned and the movie, as well as i’m sure they sit back and wait on Some apocalypse, if not just to watch the world burn. in writing this, i’ve ALSO realized how it can be considered very Michael; he didn’t exactly seek this life out but he found it and indulged, only to be that “mad immortal man” towards the end of the song

———

❥ runnin’ with the devil — van halen

i just van halen is neat sbjshbsjsh and would definitely be something the boys would actually listen to hsjbshjsb i don’t Necessarily think vampires are in any way tied to the devil but. here it’d be more like a metaphor of “taking a walk on the wild side” if you wanna call it that; also, they all truly live their lives like there’s no tomorrow (not that they have to worry about death until the very end), have stolen a lot of things just to get by (probably in life AND death), don’t bode well with the ‘simple’ life (likely including the idea of a nuclear family like max proposed) because of it’s lack of pleasures, and don’t exactly have any “love [that] you’d call real” unless you read into the subtext 

———

❥ hot blooded — foreigner

originally this was going to be another joke about the. lowkey horniness of the boys and the movie as a whole but i’ve realized in writing these explanations thus far and rereading the lyrics that it’s. it’s just michael-centric sbshjsbsh sam is “at the mercy of his sex glands” and so is the audience of both the movie and the song sbhsjbshsj like. michael finds himself attracted to star immediately and tries for two secret rendezvouses, with only one working, and. can be said that he also finds a fever running within him when he’s around david and the boys sbhjsbshjs i just 🙈

———

❥ renegade — styx

renegade is my favorite styx song so i just said “fuck it” and added it sbshjsbshj but !!! you can say that, again, the boys live their lives on the wild side and. probably commit enough crimes to warrant dozens of sentences, some that would lead to death row (like, ya know, the. manslaughter) but they manage to get away unscathed. And the law man serving as an allegory to all of the people, including the frogs and grandpa, that want them dead for being vampires, with the bounty to be rewarded being the ridding of their trouble from santa carla

———

❥ big shot — billy joel

mikey :o) … ok yeah he isn’t the. silver spoon in hand (nose) type but he’s LITERALLY the type to open his mouth and get himself deep in enough shit that a fight breaks out, potentially bloodied his eyes, nose, and/or fists. i don’t have much of an explanation outside of he is a himbo jock who pulled a “i didn’t know how to talk to my crush so i wrote a note telling them to get out of my school” except he said it with his fist instead of his mouth sbjshbshsj

———

❥ boys don’t cry — the cure

pretty sure this is one of the ones i stole off of shovel (@/iswearimavamp) sbshjbshjs but i do love this song in a general sense too. in regards to the movie, like. none of the guys. obsess over masculinity or anything— and both david AND michael cry at different points— so that’s not necessarily an issue. but, there *is* still a lot of hurt and stepping on toes in many of the relationships in the film that can be stretched to fit, i would think sbjhsbshjs

———

❥ highway to hell — ac/dc

this and back in black were some of the last two i put on here because i. wanted to make an ‘even’ 35 sbsjhsbshjs BUT, like with runnin’ with the devil, it’s about a devilish lack of care for one’s own life or the “status of their soul” and just doing what feels right or like the most fun, no matter if it lands them in hell or not. and !!! “my friends are gonna be there too” fits with the friendship within the boys’ found family and how they’ll all always be together, no matter what !!!

———

❥ back in black — ac/dc 

i can’t really think of an explanation that differs from highway to hell so just reread the above sbsjhsbsh

———

❥ witch hunt — rush

OK !!! this is the song i’m the MOST excited to explain !!! right off the bat, moving pictures as a whole is an IMMACULATE album, absolutely love it. right so !!! this song literally SOUNDS like it belongs on the movie soundtrack; it has the same overtones and sounds as cry little sister and it’s just !!! and with the title, a witch hunt is BASICALLY what sam + the frogs went on in search of the lose boys, relying on little else but hearsay and catching glimpses at what was happening to michael, “confident that their ways are best” and moving along like a mob of three to get to the bottom of it. “features distorted in the flickering light // faces are twisted and grotesque” is very reminiscent of the faces the lost boys pull when they’re about to attack, and “they say there are strangers who threaten us” is symbolic of them being outsiders/outcasts that make everyone uncomfortable, even if You aren’t going to be their next victim. “the righteous rise with burning eyes” AND “quick to judge, quick to anger // slow to understand // ignorance and prejudice // and fear walk hand in hand” can apply to any number of characters, particularly the mains who are all pitted against each other, the humans fighting for their lives and the vampires fighting for their Right to live, neither taking into consideration the other’s perspective. i just… ADORE this song…

———

❥ red barchetta — rush 

this one was mainly just because of the car that grandpa keeps in the barn and both sam and michael’s fascination with it sbhjsbsshj and just to get more rush on here shjsbshjsbsh

———

❥ maneater — hall & oates

one of the first songs to hit the playlist !!! because the boys eat people !!! they’re the lean and hungry type that only come out at night !!! they’ll be sitting with you but their eyes are on the door and if you want love from them, you won’t get very far !!! the beauty IS there but there are beasts inside that can rip your world apart !!! they’ll chew you up but also leave you begging for more :o)

———

❥ hungry like the wolf — duran duran

the second song to have gone on the playlist !!! the boys are always on the prowl for fresh meat (in both the food AND turning senses) and they come alive while on the hunt, blood no doubt rushing through their veins (assuming it still can) !!! and in the movie, michael is the one they’re after for the turning connotation, all wanting a taste of him for themselves !!!

———

❥ subdivisions — rush

this rush song actually went on before the others shbsjsbshj but !!! it still fits just as well (certainly better than red barchetta)… the movie all takes place on the fringes of the city, “in between the bright lights // and the far unlit unknown”, and while it’s not exactly in the suburbs, there’s still little comfort to soothe the restless dreams of youth. there IS a drawing like moths into the city, for both the emersons and the lost boys, which is what ends up bringing all of them together, although it starts are cruising for action just to feel the living night. and just !!! NOBODY fits in !!! if you take the movie title as them being Lost instead of an allusion to peter pan, then you get slapped with thinking about what actually makes them lost and how they don’t conform in any way, shape, or form to just about. anything. and !!! the emersons are new, which immediately puts them at a social disadvantage, but they Also don’t seem too terribly great at making new friends in general so !!! “nowhere is the dreamer or the misfit so alone”!!! 

———

❥ abracadabra — steve miller band 

i just love this song for whatever reason. and i think the allusion to magic to very fitting for the hallucinations that david gives michael, putting a sort of magic spell on him if you want to look at it that way. not a lot of silk and satin going gone but plenty of leather and probably some lace in there somewhere ( ;o] ) … also michael DOES heat up like a burnin’ flame whenever his name is called and the situation with the boys just keeps going round and round with no exact end in sight, only the calling of desire 

———

❥ separate ways (worlds apart) — journey

you would think i would have more journey on here ??? because i love them ??? but instead i stole this off of shovel too ??? it’s fine. time to be back on the 95060 bullshit sbsjhbsjhs we all know david Really wants michael to join them but. michael is reluctant, so that hesitance sets them worlds apart from each other— as if they weren’t already— and there’s still love between them, or at least the bgeinning sparks of it, even if michael refuses to act on them and only keeps pushing david away 

———

❥ cum on feel the noize — quiet riot

just some boys loving to party <3 some boys with evil yet dirty minds, out of time singing, funny faces, and that have a lazy time <3 yeah no this is one they’d rock out to and someone would probably pull a muscle over because it’s just such a banger sbshjsbsjh

———

❥ rebel yell — billy idol 

Another stolen off of shovel sbjhsbsjhs also ever since it’s been pointed out to me that david looks like billy idol i’ve just been losing it a little sbhjsbshjs Anyway. they’d definitely idolize him to some degree, even if just for looks, and it certainly fits the way that they. most Definitely let out a rebel yell at the midnight hour if you know what i mean— *taken out by a sniper*

———

❥ every breath you take — the police

would to believe to know i took it from shovel (i swear the last three where i say that will be rock you like a hurricane, livin’ on a prayer, and cherry pie sbshjsbsh) BUT !!! the watching every move is yet another. david keeping watch over michael and uh yearning from afar moment, heart aching the longer he’s away and the longer he keeps up this game of not knowing what exactly he wants to do 

———

❥ handsome devil — the smiths

ok THIS one was lent to me by ej (@/maybe-strawberry-blue) sbshjbshjsbs and let me tell you. this song (especially when paired with this charming man) is Very homoerotic, aka perfect for this movie shbjsbshjsbs like what got me first was “let me get my hands // on your mammary glands” and just. thinking about trans parko sbhsjbshjs but also in general the. “and i would like to give you // what i think you’re asking for” and “a boy in the bush // is worth two in the hand” and just sbhjsbshjs Everything. fits the ambiguous homoeroticism. And i think the boys would listen to the smiths (will elaborate more in the other smiths song explanation)

———

❥ panama — van halen

i Told you all i think van halen is neat sbsjsshjb what can i say. the boys like fast moving vehicles, hard partying, and tender loving sbsjhsbhsj also forgot to mention that i think they’d all be :eyes: about pre-1985 david lee roth and i cannot blame

———

❥ rock you like hurricane — scorpions

third to last shovel snatch sbshjsbh Here you can replace any one of the boys with the animals mentioned, as they’re always hungry and need to feed… they come out scratching and ready to win, willing to rock anyone who gets in their way like a hurricane— including with lust, depending on the situation 

———

❥ livin’ on a prayer — bon jovi

i actually can’t even manage an explanation for this one either just because of the song’s plot and how greatly it differs the movie plot <3 however it will stay because shovel said one of the boys (i forget which) would listen to it and friendship is more powerful than my small brain <3

———

❥ the queen is dead — the smiths

rightttt so here’s the deal, buds and duds. something in my gut just tells me that david would pull a me and. listen to this entire album on repeat, particularly bigmouth strikes again and i know it’s over when in dramatics bshjsbsjh BUT to make a case for the title track itself, breaking into buckingham palce— or really any major building— with only a sponge and rusty wrench would ABSOLUTELY be an endeavor the boys would get up to And they’d all pale (worse than normal) about finding out they’re the descendant of some royal. “oh, has the world changed, or have i changed” and “life is very long, when you’re lonely” is quite fitting of their immortality, which i can only imagine would leave them questioning how the world has evolved and, although they have each other, i’m sure living forever still can get a Little lonely. And they’d certainly celebrate the death of a royal (because anarchy <3). mostly i’ve just been listening to this song on repeat for days sbhjsbshj but, i think it’s the most. generally related to all of the boys, whereas like. cemetry gates would be more solely 95060 

———

❥ need you tonight — inxs

my favorite inxs song… technically the 21st century Wasn’t yesterday when the movie came out nor when the song did sbhjsbshjs but there *is* a lot of sweating from desire and aiming to put that passion into use, very blatantly letting everyone know that sbjhsbshjs

———

❥ bad medicine — bon jovi

there’s just something so fun about this song… and while listening to it on the drive home, i was thinking about it from a 95060 perspective where. david’s a bit lovesick (hence the love like bad medicine) and the choir of voices in the bg, saying “that’s what you get for falling in love”, would be the other boys knowing he’s gotten himself in over his head over what was supposed to be a minor tease or a small fling (would be a real fun and poppy animatic i think)

———

❥ pour some sugar on me — def leppard

legitimately this started as a “haha what about my ‘what if the blood was kool-aid instead’ joke” and then i realized it was. a fair enough fit, especially with the feeding scene. except they’re actual vamps not just video vamps sbjhsbshjs anyway. sugar highs and red hot flames of passion for one another <3

———

❥ cherry pie — warrant

ok THIS is the last song i took from shovel and. my reasoning is pretty much the same as pour some sugar on me and. Friendship

———

❥ somebody told me — the killers

i wasn’t going to add any modern songs but. i thought it’d be funny if michael had had a girlfriend before leaving phoenix that looked a bit like david sbshjsbshj and then it only just added to angst sbhjsbshj

———

❥ you know what they do to guys like us in prison — mcr

i was reminded that vampires will never hurt you exists but. i went with my favorite mcr song instead because. vwnhy is more like ??? a vampire that fears themselves ??? so like. an edward cullen type ??? while ykwtdtgluip is more about the homoeroticism and community ??? i said what i said

———

❥ house of wolves — mcr

thank god this is the last song because i’m getting tired sbjshsjshb a little less homoeroticism, a little more general sinning and egotism <3

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

So I have a lyric submission... Kind of. I couldn't choose a specific line because the whole song is so good. "If We Were Vampires" by Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit. Whatever pairing you choose is fine by me.

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Jaskier x Reader Word Count: 1,020 Rating: G Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak​ @whatevermonkey​ @mycat-is-mylove @mynamesoundslikesherlock​ @kemmastan​ @magic-multicolored-miracle​ @writingstudent​ @mlleecrivaine​ @coffee-and-stories​ @amirahiddleston​ @ultracolorfulnerdcollection​ @astouract​ @your-not-invisible-to-me @daydreamer-in-training @morelikebyesexual a/n: In a bizarre twist this angst stayed angst till the end xo

It was the great unspoken thing between you. You shared it through drunken whispers and lines in songs and glances you tried to pretend away but both held dearly like a treasured secret. The words had never been spoken aloud, not really, not directly, the closest ever coming from a feverish Jaskier who had mumbled something like them but you hadn’t asked him when he was better and he had pretended not to remember saying them.

Geralt couldn’t understand it. Jaskier had no problem shouting the words to practically all acquantinces but somehow with you they didn’t come. He could see them written plainly on his face and hear them on the tip of his tongue and every song had become a bit more poignant as time wore on. The songs grew to be less about women or even a woman and more about nebulous, metaphorical things. A forest fire that consumed him whole but from whose warm embrace he never wished to leave despite how it may be the end of him. A mountain unscalable that he walked beside, happy simply to witness its beauty and strength though there were times he wondered if he may have the temerity to attempt scaling, only to be abashed by his own uncertainty and deeply hidden insecurities. He wrote you as he saw you, everywhere around him but especially in nature. Whenever something filled him with awe he felt you there. Some went to the woods to commune with their gods, he went to feel closer to you.

But the words remained unsaid.

There were moments you hoped he’d say them but whenever it looked as if he might you felt equal terror and delight and your heart nearly broke each time he said something else instead. You knew you could say them, but it was never the right time. There would always be later. You knew that was a lie but you kept pushing the words onto a future version of yourself who you were certain would be braver or wiser or maybe have grown out of this deeply unsettling thing you felt for the friend you didn’t want to lose. Instead, you wrapped yourself up in his company like a warm blanket and waited for the day you both went hurtling towards what had to be inevitable. And some nights, though you’d be the first to admit it wasn’t a healthy way to handle things, you just drank.

“If you were immortal,” Jaskier asked one night, pale skin flushed with drink and the warmth of the fire you were both sitting far too close to for Geralt’s liking, “What would you do?”

You laughed into the copper cup you were drinking from and wiped the ale off your lips before replying.

“Well what kind of immortal?” you asked.

“Any kind!”

“They each have different pros and cons, Jaskier, I can’t just answer you willy nilly,” you argued.

“A vampire!” Jaskier threw out casually.

“Get killed by Geralt, probably,” you laughed. Geralt nodded silently across the way and then, satisfied that you weren’t going to accidentally fall into the fire, walked away to settle in with Roach.

“No but really,” Jaskier insisted, pale blue eyes peering intently at you over the flames. You thought for a moment, trying to force your roaming thoughts away from the soft disheveled hair and the frankly indecent expanse of hair covered chest visible from the ever deepening V of his unbuttoned chemise.

“I’d go to a museum probably,” you answered, “Maybe Oxenfurt, it has old things there, yeah?”

“Sure, of course,” Jaskier laughed incredulously, “But why would you go there?”

“There’s never enough time to go through them and properly look at everything. Someone is always hurrying you along,” you complained, falling into a sullen pout that made Jaskier’s heart seize.

“I could give you a tour sometime,” he offered, “I am a very prominent member of alumni after all.”

“You would?” you asked, eyes widening and hands clutching the cup tight.

“Of course,” Jaskier laughed, “I’d do anything for you.”

The last words were spoken so softly they were nearly devoured by the crackling flames but you heard them and stared at him for a long moment though he looked askance, profile illuminated and obscured by fire and shadows. You finally cleared your throat and sat upright.

“Well even still, there’s so much to see of the world and then there’s the ocean itself. There’s just never enough time to do everything you want and say everything you want and make all the mistakes you could,” you sighed.

“I’ve found that I’m fairly efficient at making mistakes and I manage to say everything I want to say. Well. Most everything,” Jaskier conceded.

“What about you?” you asked quickly, cursing yourself for being too scared to press the matter. Liquid courage my ass, you thought bitterly as you took another sip of your ale and he pondered the question.

“I suppose I’d finally say those things I’m not saying,” he replied with a shrug. He looked over to meet your eyes and you felt frozen, unable to look away but heart hammering angrily as if all of the instinct to flee was contained in it while your body stubbornly sought to fight. Maybe it would be better this way. Maybe if he could say it then you could do, or you could deny it and you could put it behind you and fall back into the companionable friendship you’d once had before emotions made it all so hard. You kept waiting for Jaskier’s face to soften or shift into a humorous little smirk, some levity to lighten the mood. But his face stayed still and serious and filled with a yearning that would make his audience weep if he would only put words to it.

“If we were vampires I suppose we could do most anything we wanted,” you said, the silence growing more painful than the fear. Jaskier could have moved in closer. He could have reached for a hundred metaphors or a thousand similes. He could have done most anything.

“But we’re not.”

[tenebriiis-archived]

Give me LB/Cait or give me death. For the songs thing.

Send me a character or a ship, and I’ll answer with five songs I associate with them!

{ 🙗 }  // oh I won't give you death cause I ADORE THIS FANTASTIC & MARVELOUS SHIP THANKS TO THIS CHAOTICK MONKEY BEAN RIGHT HERE ♥ @piltover-sharpshooter​​ ; their amazing portrayal of Caitlyn that simply came into my LeBlanc’s life & throw down all the reclusiveness inside her heart, all the barrier & it happens in every single AU we have thought of; & trust me THERE ARE MANY   ♡ ♡ ♡ so yes, have a ton of songs I imagine for them ; time to make an OST for Rose-Flavored Tea OTP ♡

• —♡— •

• —♡— •

{ ♡ }  — “Come What May” by Moulin Rouge ♫ (For them both it doesn't matter what comes to them, they will be together. This Love is just so sweetly overwhelming & ever-calling for the other ♥ )

Listen to my heart Can't you hear it sings Telling me to give you everything Seasons may change Winter to spring But I love you Until the end of time

Come what may Come what may I will love you Until my dying day

{ ♡ }  — “Hell in Heaven” by TWICE ♫ (This is totally for the Eden AU: Which is basically Serpent of Eden LeBlanc falling for the first woman created: Lilith (Caitlyn))

Take me to your paradise Heaven's Door Is Closed Starry Night Kiss me in the blue moonlight Take it out soon Take me away My hopе in hell Take me to your paradisе

{ ♡ }  — “Séduction” by Joanna ♫ ( Little Warning: NSFW Song, proceed with caution ovo;; ! / But it express lovingly the adoration they have for each other in any case. The kind of beautiful music that play as they are together ♥ )

Your body is a masterpiece sculpted in stone Your body is a masterpiece moulded by sea

{ ♡ }  — “Paint It Black” by Ciara ♫ ( DEATHKNIGHT VIBES fighting her lover after returning from the Death Realm along with Mordekaiser :3c )

No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue I could not foresee this thing happening to you If I look hard enough into the setting sun My love will laugh with me before the morning comes

I wanna see it painted, painted black Black as night, black as coal I wanna see the sun blotted out from the sky

{ ♡ }  — "In Your Arms" by Ashley Serena & Ryan Louder ♫ ( After Mordekaiser is defeated in this AU, & LeBlanc has a Redemption Arc, where Caitlyn & her become basically Kindred's Aspect in some metaphorical way. Their duty becomes in restoring the lands that had suffered so much. LISTEN, BEST AU, I LOVE IT )

Into your arms Sirens call How fast, I fall Beneath, your waves No Storm, can take My eyes, from you

{ ♡ }  — “You Belong to Me” by Cat Pierce ♫ (It expresses the possessiveness of each other & how much they would give for the other, as long as they are together. This is mostly for the Vampire AU & DeathKnight/LifePriestess AU)

Lips burrow so deep, give me good sleep Pour a little sugar on my wound Musical master, play harder and faster Spinning me up in your silky cocoon

Feels like we're dreaming, we're tripping and reeling Just say that you belong to me (You belong to me) I could get lost in the feelings we're feeling Just say that you belong to me (You belong to me) Do you want more of this? Isn't it glorious? I can't believe that it's free (You belong to me) I will adore you, I'll only live for you Just say that you belong to me

{ ♡ }  — “I will Carry You” by Clay Aiken ♫ (The supporting & comforting emotions both of them have for each other, every AU & Canon, they are there for the other no matter what ♥ ; v ;)

When your world Breaks down And the voices tell you, "Turn around" When your dreams Give out I will carry you — Carry you When the stars go blind And the darkness starts to flood your eyes When you're fallin' Behind I will carry you

ty for the ask ; @fatebreaking ! ! !  ♡

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.81

Lance was silently fuming in his grave. He’d lost his temper with his friends, and now he’d exiled himself to the backyard to avoid them. He didn’t want to be mad at them, but when they pulled stupid shit and made jokes over becoming a vampire, he couldn’t cope. Coming home to a home that kind of no longer felt like his was bad enough. He’d hoped that what Matt wanted to show him was him kicking Pidge’s arse at some video game and Matt was simply making fun of him. Not this. Not some half baked idea of investigating Lotor. Rieva had been so scared they’d been forced to return to Platt, and now she was happily conspiring with Pidge and Hunk, like that fear didn’t matter. There was a reason hunters existed. They took care of things like this. Not two werewolves and two humans who’d only just found out that things really do to bump in the night. He wanted his life back. He wanted things to go back to hunting dumb ghosts and the occasional yucky feeling of death when they did. Why couldn’t they understand how he felt? He shouldn’t have lost his stupid temper, but being a vampire wasn’t something to joke about.

Being the light of his undead life, Hunk was the one who came to talk to him. Shovelling off Lance’s death dirt, Lance faked death until Hunk made it impossible to ignore him

“Lance... I don’t know if you can hear me... but... Can we talk, buddy? I’m not used to this... You look dead in there and I don’t like how it feels seeing you dead”

That was the nicest thing Hunk had said in ages. That he didn’t like seeing Lance laying in his shallow grave

“I’m not changing my mind”

Hunk sighed, Lance hearing the way his clothes rustled as his friend sat heavily, just short of where he’d dug Lance up

“I don’t like this either... but Pidge wanted to help... and she needs someone there to keep her grounded”

Hunk was good at that. Provided Pidge was still listening and not swept away in an investigation

“She needs to leave it alone before she ends up dead”

“But you’re dead... and you’re okay?”

He wasn’t okay. He’d just gotten very good at existing

“I’m not going to watch her go through what I went through”

“What... I mean, you totally don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I guess... maybe I don’t see the problem with you being a vampire”

Hunk wouldn’t. He saw the absolute best in everyone. Even when they didn’t see it in themselves, he kind of... brought it out of you. Lance couldn’t tell him. He didn’t want Hunk to pity him. He’d barely been able to tell Matt without Keith’s support

“I... I can’t tell you. I can tell she should fear being a vampire. If Pidge was turned, she’d never be the person we know again. That’s if she kept her mind”

“But you... kept yours? You’re not secretly a serial killer are you?”

Lance could almost see Hunk worrying his pointer fingers together

“No. I was turned young. Too young... My mind and body were more flexible. When we get older we get set in our ways. Our sense of self evolves as we grow. That’s the secret to keeping your sanity. It’s holding onto every little bit of humanity you can find”

“That had to be rough... I...”

Hunk was so pure he wasn’t seeing the truth

“You don’t know what to say. You’re cautious. I can hear the way your heart beats increased. I did everything I could to keep you out of this. But that all went up in flames in an instant. Yeah. I knew Matt was a werewolf before he came back. I prayed Pidge wouldn’t find out... and look what that got us. A whole lot of awkwardness and mistrust. You guys can talk and laugh about it because you’ve never seen a vampire properly. You’ve never seen humans paraded around as fresh meals on a lead. You’ve never felt hunger that robs you of your sanity. Pidge only saw a sliver and you were there to witness what that did to her. This isn’t a game and we can’t just drink slushies to feel better after a bad hunt. A bad hunt means you’re dead. Throat torn out for the fun of it... if you’re lucky. If you’re unlucky... it’s not a quick death”

If you’re unlucky you turn out like Adam, but that wasn’t Lance’s secret to share.

Hunk fell silent. Lance’s hearing not good enough to hear the metaphorical cogs kicking over. It was a long moment before Hunk replied

“You’re right. We don’t understand. It scared me when Matt suddenly showed us his wolf. I don’t know how to cope with any of this. I can’t even tell Shay and she totally thinks I’m flaky”

That wasn’t fair. Hunk was only flaky in the sense he was like a warm croissant

“I know. Since I met you guys... I... I was scared. I’ve never had friends as close as family before. I’ve never loved having people around like I love you and Pidge. I’ve spent my adult life trying to atone for what I am. Realistically I should have died when I was a kid. I never enjoyed lying. My ego never thought I was better than you. If anything I envied you both. You both grow old. You grow old and fall in love. You make families and you know love. When you don’t age you get to watch everyone you love grow older and die before you. I love you guys warm and breathing...”

“I don’t think Pidge is going to give up. Her... um... dad... he like knows about this kind of thing. And her mum... she’s pretty mad at both of them”

That made sense. Kind of... He’d thought Colleen and Sam had some sense that he wasn’t human. Though how they knew hunters wasn’t as clear. Platt was a big place. Most vampires and werewolves knew how to keep their heads down when they really needed to

“I love her. I love her and I don’t know if I can support this. I can barely support Keith and he’s been a hunter for years now. I don’t... I spent a long time not being part of that world for a reason. Nothing good ever comes out of it”

“Keith did...”

Touché. Keith and Shiro... they were a different kind of hunter. Eyes opened by personal tragedy that should have left them blood thirsty

“Keith... with him... it’s different. He feels like... he feels like he’s been our friend for years. He was really hurt over what happened. He’s not the best with social cues and friends. He’s been through so much and I was so happy that you guys wanted to be friends with him”

“He’s... nicer then when we met him”

“That’s because he was convinced I was a blood sucking monster that fed on you as you slept”

“That doesn’t make me feel good”

“Relax. I swear I never ever fed on either of you. I had blood bags, and I never wanted to. I wanted to be human”

“Is there a way to cure vampire-ism? Is it “ism?”. Do you guys have like a preferred term?”

“I’m fine with whatever. But no. There’s no cure. I’m as dead as I can be without being in a hole in a ground”

“Dude, you are literally in a hole in the ground”

Touché again. He was kind of cold buried up to his shoulders... His poor death soil hadn’t been taken care of at all. Stupid dandelions had invaded... He’d always kept the garden so meticulous

“I know... Hunk, I don’t know what to do”

“I don’t know what to do either, bud. What would Keith say?”

“I don’t think he’s talking to me. I told him I was coming back here today and he didn’t reply”

“Oh, man... I’m sorry... I didn’t know you two were...”

Two were what? Fighting? Lance thought they’d made up...

“I don’t think we’re fighting... he just normally answers or he’s working... or sleeping. Shiro did get slightly drunk last night”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yep. Curtis finally took him on a proper date”

“Like in public?”

“No. They went to this underground vampire fighting ring that serves great wings. Yes, in public. Just because Curtis is slightly cursed doesn’t really mean anything”

Lance could hear Hunk scratching the back of his head

“Dude. Relax. I’m joking. Curtis’s curse doesn’t mean he can’t go out and enjoy himself with Shiro. He styled his hair to hide his horn”

“So like curses and magic are real? That’s a real thing?”

“Yeah. I only found out about it not that long ago. Curtis used to be a hunter. I suppose he still kind of is, but he works for Coran now”

“Like you work for Coran?”

Hunk was curious, yet kind of freaked. Lance could hear it in his voice. He’d come out here for peace, but instead found himself having a much needed talk with Hunk

“I don’t work for Coran. Coran takes care of like all the supernaturals and hunters in Platt. I’ve known him since I was turned. He helped me and my family out a lot with adjusting to me being the undead”

“So if anything goes wrong...?”

“I go to Coran. He’d welcome you guys too. He’s heard all about both of you”

“I don’t know how that makes me feel”

“Nothing bad. Just... you guys really mean a lot to me. You’re not the first humans I’ve been friendly with, but you’re the most important people in my life to date. And Keith. I didn’t even tell him I was coming back today. I messaged him... but he didn’t reply...”

Silence fell between them again. Lance content to let Hunk take his time, which he did, before finally starting to talk again

“Lance. Is there a reason you left Platt? If you were happy there... you could have stayed to be with Keith if you’d wanted”

“I was in Platt because Rieva was concerned for our safety with Lotor around. Lotor comes from a really bad family. Like worse than every vampire movie you’ve seen put together. His mother’s worse than Elizabeth Bathory. Hell, she probably got her twisted ways from her...”

“Or from pop culture”

Lance shook his head, sending dirt across his face. That was the trouble with burying himself. Maybe it was time to invest in a nice body bag, or a proper coffin to keep the dirt out

“She’s been alive longer than pop culture has existed. If Lotor suddenly proclaimed she was Elizabeth, I don’t think I’d actually be surprised”

“Is she really that bad?”

“Rieva didn’t tell you? The woman’s got a screw loose up there. More like she’s walked into a hardware store, pulled every packet of screws off the shelf, opened them all, then thrown them everywhere as she then bosses the staff into cleaning up the mess she’s left”

“That doesn’t sound good”

It sounded like a total chaotic shit show. Kind of like how the Blades conveniently marched to the beat of their own drum

“Not particularly. Bud, I know you always see the good in people, but you need to see Honerva isn’t a person. Those invisible lines the of law that keeps us in line doesn’t apply when you’re that powerful. Going after Lotor could bring that madness down on all of you. Not just us, but everyone you love. I’m so happy you and Shay finally started dating, and I’m not telling you to choose but if you ever feel you have to, then please choose her. You two are so perfect for each other. I want to see you grow old together... I want you both to be happy”

Hunk sighed heavily

“I... don’t know if I can ignore what’s happening... I don’t want... I don’t want to see people hurt because I wasn’t brave enough to do something”

Because Hunk loved his friends as fiercely as Lance loved them

“Then... then I don’t know. But don’t chase anything. I can let Keith know, or Coran, but I can’t lose you, even if it makes you hate me. The world is a better place for having you and Pidge in it... always remember that. I’m going to take a nap out here”

Moving seemed like effort. Inside smelt like werewolf. The gremlin was cranky. Here seemed as good as any spot to wallow

“You’re going to take a nap?”

Hunk sounded surprised. Then again, he wasn’t used to Lance napping in the ground. Lance wasn’t used to Lance napping in the ground, but the soil felt kind of reassuring

“It’s fine. I spent three months making this soil. It’s actually good for me. Helps promote healing all that... I’ll be okay”

“I don’t like leaving you in there alone”

Lance snorted, mentally imagining Hunk trying to climb in beside him

“I’ll be okay. Just don’t let Matt pee on me. I think I need some me space”

“Should... should I cover you back up?”

“If you want to. I’m pretty cozy in here”

“But... don’t you need to breathe?”

“Eventually. I breathe. But I can also hold my breath a ridiculous amount of time”

“Dude... that’s so weird”

“Welcome to having a friend who’s a vampire. Seriously though. I really love you guys. I want to be here with you... I... Thanks for coming to check on me. I know this isn’t easy for you”

“Well... like... you know... we’re like best friends... right?”

“Best friends forever, buddy”

** I can’t help it. I love our boy interacting with his besties and being friends again**

[starkeristheendgame]

Dedicated to @starkerintheparker for when she gets back from all that super hard studying ❤ Based on some insomnia musings. Vampire AU.

IronSpiderShield.

The man steals Peter's breath away without even a touch when he walks through the filligreed double doors, and Peter immediately thinks Vampire.

It's undeniable. Encompassing.

His movements are nothing short of precise, perfect. Measured and nothing except predatory in their elegance. Peter can't be sure, but he doesn't think the man's polished Louboutin's make a single sound on the marble.

He's pale, not in a dead body kind of way, but in a creamy whiteness that makes him practically glow under the lights. His sharp jaw is sculpted by dark stubble, shaped by perfect lines and with not a patch in sight. It's matched by a full head of thick, fluffy hair, shining like gloss.

But it's the eyes that give him away. His eyes that grip Peter's breath tight and hold it ransom. Peter can't think of a precious stone to compare them to because there is none like this; glowing and blue-white. Electric. Ice fire that burns Peter up inside.

If he wasn't looking at them in person, he'd think they were animated. He grips his champagne flute so hard his nails scrape against it, drawing a slightly mollified look from the woman to his left. Peter, a generally polite person, can't even bring himself to apologise. Can't tear his gaze away from the man in the doorway.

His suit is somewhere between royalty and ringmaster; a velvet-black with gold networking along the sleeves, the collar, a tail-coat instead of the hip-cut suit every other rich man wears. Somehow, the man pulls it off.

His heart is hammering. He can feel it. Every Vampire in the room can hear it. It claws at his throat, desperate to shatter the confines of its cage and run to the man. The man, who is quite suddenly and quite surely, staring straight back at him.

Peter is so startled he almost drops his glass, saved only by the fact that his entire body locks up, fingers gripping the fragile object so hard he's sure it would shatter. Thoseeyesthoseeyesthoseeyes.

And then, of course, the second most beautiful man Peter has ever seen comes gliding past him, and perhaps the Vampire hadn't been looking at him at all. Nobody else is; their gazes are flicking between the two men like they're eating them alive, waiting to pounce. The perfect juxtaposition.

The second man is tall, impossibly broad. Shoulders Peter could lay across blend into a trim waist, into long, long legs and thick thighs and when he turns enough to talk to the man in the doorway, his jawline is sharp enough that Peter could cut his fingertips touching it. His hair is polished gold, soft and pushed back.

Peter's throat dries up.

Vaguely, he knows he's staring. Knows he's being obvious about staring, in comparison to the way everyone else hides their gazes with drinks glasses and careful body placement. The vague notion of merely looking around the room, instead of oggling the world's hottest couple.

Because they can't be anything else. Not with the intimate way the tall blonde touches him at the temple, not with the way the shorter Vampire grasps at his hip as he laughs quietly. They're both living, pale, deadly Michaelangelo works and at some point, Peter must breathe again because the fire in his chest abates to an ember.

"Interesting, aren't they?" A deep voice drawls from his side. Obidiah Stane is a mountain of a man, a towering six-six to Peter's five-nine. His shoulders are broad, but brutish compared to the sculpted strength of the blonde Vampire. And Obidiah is no Vampire, no matter what he would do to obtain such power.

"They're beautiful" is all Peter can breathe back. He hadn't meant to say it out loud. At his side the man coos, like Peter is some dumb little parrot that finally said 'hello'. At the doorway, two sets of blue fire eyes fix on him in fast predation.

"I'm - I'm getting a drink" Peter choked, turning on his heel. Obidiah's chuckle is condescending, the smirk on his mouth vicious as he tips his own glass to Peter, watching him leave. The man reminds him somewhat of a shark, if sharks were as cruel as Obidiah could be.

"A double sweet liqueur, please. With coke" Peter mutters at the bar. The man behind it, blessedly human, eyes him carefully before going for a glass. "Hell, could you make it a triple? In a pint glass or something?" He considered, gaze pleading. He could pretend it was just coke, as long as he didn't let Ms. Potts close enough to sniff. The bartender looks at him again, a flat look like he's caught Peter in a lie. His gaze shifts a literal half-second before the silkiest voice Peter has ever heard comes from behind.

"He'll have a single. With extra soda".

Peter turns to ask just who the Hell Mr. Audio Porn thinks he is, when a bucket of metaphorical ice water is dumped over him, and he drowns once more in twin pools of blue moonlight. They blaze up close, strong enough Peter imagines their glow bathes his cheeks.

"It's rude to stare" the man purrs, eyes twinkling and lips curving into enough of a smirk that the very tip of one sharp, sharp canine peeks out. That does nothing to make him stop, gaze fixed on the glittering point and heart beating at his teeth.

Peter is vaguely aware of the bartender placing a drink at his elbow, the glass too short to be anything but a single, but he can't even bring himself to care. What would he do, anyway? Argue with a man who could break his neck with his index finger alone?

"We wouldn't want Ms. Potts putting you to bed early for misbehaving now, would we?" The man continues, his velvet drawl sinking into Peter's body. His lashes are long enough that it almost looks like he's wearing eyeliner.

"Especially," the man breaths, moving closer, too close, not close enough. "When most grown up fun happens after dark". The man brings Peter's glass to his lips, dark and full, and looks amused when the sweet scent hits him, taking a slow and luxurious sip.

"Flavourful" he murmurs, turning the glass and extending his arm, until the exact piece of glass he'd just curled his tongue around rests on Peter's bottom lip. Peter can't bring himself to do anything except tip his head, obligingly sipping the sweet, fizzy combination.

"Tony. Haven't we talked about playing with things that aren't yours?" Comes another soft, deep voice, and Peter's knees almost buckle. The idea of being reduced to a thing shouldn't do anything but offend him, and yet he can feel his cheeks darken and his cock fill against his thigh.

Tony. He wants to taste it. Play with the shape of it on his tongue. Can only watch as the blonde approaches, pulls Tony back a step so that Peter can finally breathe. The man seems equal parts stern and amused, eyeing Peter both like he was a meal and a trash wrapper.

"He's not anyone else's, though. He's too fresh and prey to be anything but desk candy for Pepper" Tony pouts, but it's mean and sweet both. Peter suspects he's being mocked, but he can't bring himself to react other than to blush harder, gaze averting.

"Besides, Stevie. I'm doing a good deed. This sweet little kitten was trying to play grown up with his drinks" Tony grins, teeth bared. The look that 'Stevie' turns on Peter makes him feel about two inches tall, like the kid caught stealing cookies late at night.

"Stop biting at things too sweet for your teeth, Tony. Let the skittish colt go" Steve (because Peter would guess a man this regal wasn't born Stevie) warns. The docile, minimising insults finally prompt Peter to open his mouth, frowning.

"I'm not a kitten. Or a colt. Or a lamb, before you go making any big-bad-wolf references" he seeths, but it only serves for Steve to arch one golden brow and for Tony to laugh, delighted.

"The little baby bites" Tony play-growls at him, leering closer. His fight back only seems to have melted Steve's protection of him, because the man glances at his partner with what can only mean I take it back, he's fair game. Chew away.

"Sweet alcohol. Sweet face. Sour little temper. I wonder what the rest of you tastes like" Tony whispered, lewd and shameless. Peter is vaguely aware that there are two other Vampires in this room that can undoubtedly hear every word of this, but the warm ache in his gut persuades him to ignore it.

"Bite me and find out" Peter snapped scathingly, and this time it was Steve that moved closer, towering over him like a fierce, proud lion. That's fitting, Peter thinks. A lion. A King. Would Tony be the Panther, then? The beast in the shadows?

"You wouldn't want us to do that, little kitten. You shouldn't try to fight things with teeth sharper than yours" Steve purrs, tongue curling over pointed canines as he grins in a move made only to flash fang. At his flank Tony does the same, predatory, eyes blazing.

"He started it" Peter responded, but his words were nothing but a beaten down mumble, gaze averting. Submitting. It was a fight he wouldn't win even if they were human. You live as you die when you're a Vampire - And the bite doesn't inherently change your personality. These men are royalty and teeth and sex by blood.

"Let him bite, darling. A little thing like him won't leave marks" Tony hummed lowly, taking Peter's drink again, watching him as he sips like daring Peter to rise to the bait. He doesn't. Can't. Can barely feel the blur of his heart and the heavy hotness between his legs.

Steve's hand lifts, moves syrup-slow towards his jaw. His touch, when it finally comes, isn't the ice cold that Peter imagined. Steve's touch is...Lukewarm. Warm enough to give the illusion his blood flows beneath the marble skin. The pad of his thumb his heavy, soft when it pulls down Peter's lip, his gaze electric and dark at once.

"Blunt little baby teeth" he agrees, like mocking, but his voice is soft and Peter's lip tastes like skin and metal when Steve lets go of his mouth. "Wouldn't hurt at all. Not like we could" he adds, husky and like it's a promise.

Peter shivers.

"And you told me I was playing with my food" Tony drawls, lazy and entertained, almost jealous as he licks at the place Peter drank from. Tastes him.

"I'm not your food" Peter huffed, scowling. He was more than a walking snack, thanks. Vampires or not, he wasn't a Capri-Sun to be poked full of holes and drained. The smile Tony throws him is sticky sweet, leering. The truth is; they could walk out of here with him and nobody would stop them. There'd be questions later, but the world has always been rules by power, and what are Vampires if not powerful?

"Mm. But I'll bet you'd let us taste, wouldn't you?" Tony rasps back, sexuality velvet-smooth. "You'd let us lick and suck. Let us bite".

He would.

"Behave" Steve warns again, but there's less sincerity behind it now. Less authority and more habit. He's close enough that to look at him, Peter has to look up, head tipping back. Tony is flanking him enough that Peter can see the flecks of white in his eyes. The blue so crisp it's almost clear.

"What do you think, Stevie? Think if we take off the halter the little colt will bolt away?" Tony purrs, eyes and fangs clinging in the golden overheads. "Because I think he'll be a good little baby and trot straight into Room 313" he added, tongue dipping onto the razor edge of his canine. A tiny bead of red wells there.

Steve looks at him for a long, long time, and then they're gone with nothing but a lingering, predatory glance. Peter really does collapse again the bar then, gasping and ignoring even Obidiah's hungry gaze. Something nudges his elbow and when he turns, it's another drink. The tumbler taller, the customer scale for a double. The bartender won't look at him, but Peter isn't exactly running for eye contact, either.

The drink is strong on his tongue, sweet to the point of almost being bitter. Liquid courage, they call it. The tonic of the nerves. On his way out, he can't bring himself to look at anything except the polished floor each step ahead. No doubt everyone knows, regardless. Or will, if his body is found by the cleaners in the morning.

The door swings open even as his hand lifts to knock, and Tony leans against the door frame, ice fire eyes and licking at his mouth. "It looks like I found a stray kitten" he purred, fang-tips glittering as he reaches for Peter's collar.

[trenchcas]

episode origins p1

i was watching moriah earlier today and was wondering what the significance of the name moriah was, so i searched it up. i’ll explain it here in this. i wanted to learn which episodes have titles derived from pop culture, literature, etc. so i put together this list. it’s not complete, feel free to reblog with more!

why did i waste hours on my life on this, you ask? i don’t know. 

season 1

pilot: obviously, all the first episodes of shows are called pilots. nothing new here.

wendigo: they’re fighting a wendigo

dead in the water: the phrase means “unable to function, move”.

phantom traveler: the name of the demon they’re fighting

bloody mary: based off the legend

skin: shapeshifters, also there might be a meta about how it’s a metaphor for dean

hook man: they’re fighting a hook man

bugs: bugs

home: they go home

asylum: they go to an asylum

scarecrow: scarecrow

faith: the concept of god first comes into play here, i thought that was pretty interesting. that’s why it’s called faith, duh. dean + faith is explored.

route 666: racist truck yes

nightmare: sam’s visions

the benders: i think it’s based off of the bloody benders, a family of serial killers

shadow: meg’s stalkery?

hell house: it was literally a hell house

something wicked: originally chanted by WITCHES in shakespeare’s macbeth. the full line is “something wicked this way comes, open locks, whoever knocks”. obviously the shtriga is a witch and it refers to that.

provenance: painting provenances, it’s in the episode

dead man’s blood: they use dead man’s blood

salvation: being saved or protected, like the boys and john do with the family

devil’s trap: the devil gets them in a trap. and they built a giant devil’s trap too.

season two

in my time of dying: based off of the led zeppelin song [x]

everybody loves a clown: based off of the gary lewis song [x]

bloodlust: i think it’s for the vampires but they were also a band in the 90′s

children shouldn’t play with dead things: based off of the 1972 movie

simon said: the whole “you do what i say” thing with andy and evil andy

no exit: it’s a song by blondie and in the episode h.h. holmes captures blondes...? am i just clowning

the usual suspects: based off of the 1995 movie

crossroad blues: based off of the robert johnson song (fave!) [x]

croatoan: i like this one. okay, so you guys probably know about the whole roanoke/croatoan thing in the 1600′s. so there’s a theory that the settlers were wiped out by a disease (similar to this town). also, the town would disappear off of the map.

hunted: gordon hunted sam

playthings: dolls, but the little girl was the grandma’s sisters plaything

nightshifter: a shifter in the night

houses of the holy: based off of the led zeppelin song and album [x]

born under a bad sign: based off of this song [x] there are a bunch of others including jimi hendrix but...?

tall tales: yeah i think this one is self explanatory

roadkill: someone got killed on the road

heart: werewolf heart but also how sam gave his heart to madison aww also there’s a band called heart

hollywood babylon: based off of the book by the same name

folsom prison blues: based off of the johnny cash song!! [x]

what is and what should never be: based off of the led zeppelin song [x]

all hell breaks loose: yes it did

season three

the magnificent seven: based off of the pretty famous western go watch

the kids are alright: based off of the who song [x]

bad day at black rock: based off of the 1955 movie

sin city: there’s a bunch of songs but the city was sinning so

bedtime stories: they were bedtime stories

red sky at morning: the full phrase is “red sky at morning, sailors take warning”. with the theme of this ep it fits pretty well.

fresh blood: fresh blood yes

a very supernatural christmas: i’m not sure. i think it’s based off of a christmas album?

malleus maleficarum: a 1400′s book of witches. latin for “hammer of the witches”.

dream a little dream of me: i love this song! based off this: [x]

mystery spot: mystery spot

jus in bello: i can’t really explain it but here [x]

ghostfacers: g h o s t f a c e r s

long-distance call: long distance call

time is on my side: based off of the rolling stones song [x]

no rest for the wicked: a biblical quote that means “evildoers will face eternal punishment”. also, “one’s work never ceases”.

season four

lazarus rising: in the bible, lazarus is the righteous man, which makes dean the righteous man. and he rises. so. 

are you there, god? it’s me, dean winchester: based off of the judy blume book (maybe?), are you there, god? it’s me, margaret.

in the beginning: they go back in time

metamorphosis: with the rugaru but also sammeh

monster movie: monsters and movies

yellow fever: referring to the disease i think, but also there are a few songs

it’s the great pumpkin, sam winchester: based off of it’s the great pumpkin, charlie brown.

wishful thinking: yeah

i know what you did last summer: dean + hell, sam + ruby. is it based off of the shawn mendes song? i don’t think it is because this came out way before the song.

heaven and hell: opposite sides meet, dean’s hell experiences.

family remains: there are remains

criss angel is a douche bag: idk?

after school special: based off of the abc program? i think?

sex and violence: there was a lot of sex. and violence.

death takes a holiday: death took a holiday

on the head of a pin: i’m not sure but this article is interesting, maybe related. probably related. [x]

it’s a terrible life: based off of it’s a wonderful life? i love that movie btw

the monster at the end of this book: ughhh! yes!!! first of all there’s a sesame street book by the same title. also, chuck actually was the monster at the end of the book! that’s crazy. insane. 

jump the shark: “(of a television series or movie) reach a point at which far-fetched events are included merely for the sake of novelty, indicative of a decline in quality.“ probably the whole long lost brother thing.

the rapture: a belief that christians will rise to “meet the lord in the air”. kinda like jimmy does.

when the levee breaks: based off of the led zeppelin song [x]

lucifer rising: lucifer rose

season five

sympathy for the devil: based off of the rolling stones song [x]

good god, y’all!: cas goes to find god

free to be you and me: a marlo thomas album and the brothers split up

the end: yeah it’s the end

fallen idols: i think we get it

i believe the children are our future: a lyric from a whitney houston song

the curious case of dean winchester: based off of the short story, the curious case of benjamin button.

changing channels: channels were changed. the end.

the real ghostbusters: based on the 1985 animation

abandon all hope: the full phrase is “abandon all hope, ye who enter here” and that pretty much sums up this episode.

sam, interrupted: i’m not sure?

swap meat: meats were SWAPPED.

the song remains the same: based off of the led zeppelin song [x]

my bloody valentine: based on jensen’s movie. but also the band?

dead men don’t wear plaid: based on the 1982 movie

dark side of the moon: a pink floyd album

99 problems: that one jayz song whatever

point of no return: a 1993 movie but also the poto song hehe

hammer of the gods: based off of the 1985 book i think? it’s about led zeppelin so probably yeah.

the devil you know: means that it’s better to deal with a situation you understand than one you don’t.

two minutes to midnight: this phrase is commonly used as a countdown to a global catastrophe (i.e. the fucking apocalypse)

swan song: someone’s final performance before retirement (i think this is about both brothers because it’s sam last battle and dean’s last fight before living with lisa)

season six

exile on main st.: based off of the rolling stones album [x]

two and a half men: it was a sitcom? but idk if that’s where it’s from

the third man: based off of the 1949 noir thriller? maybe? but there were also three men so idrk

weekend at bobby’s: it was a weekend at bobbys

live free or twi-hard: based off of twilight and that bruce willis movie that i watched once way back when

you can’t handle the truth: truth goddess. soulless sam gets exposed ig

family matters: based off of the 1989 sitcom? maybe

all dogs go to heaven: based off of the 1989 movie? probably

clap your hands if you believe: i think this is an original title idk

caged heat: based off of the 1974 movie i think

appointment in samarra: probably based off of the 1934 novel of the same name

like a virgin: based off of the madonna song [x]

unforgiven: sam does unforgiven things

mannequin 3: the reckoning: not sure

the french mistake: just... just read this link [x]

and then there were none: based off of the agatha christie novel of the same name

my heart will go on: y’all all know what’s up [x]

frontierland: they went to yeehaw town

mommy dearest: based on the 1981 film? maybe?

the man who would be king: based off of the 1888 novel by rudyard kipling

let it bleed: based off of the rolling stones album/song [x]

the man who knew too much: shares a name with the 1956 film

season seven

meet the new boss: they met the new boss idk

hello, cruel world: sad sam

the girl next door: there’s a 2004 romcom with the same name

defending your life: a 1991 romcom! wow!

shut up, dr. phil: sam and dean became philanthropists idk

slash fiction: hahahahaha i think we know what it means but wHY is it called that?

the mentalists: they met a bunch of magic people wow!

season 7, time for a wedding!: more like season 7, time for a slightly r*pey episode and GARTH!

how to win friends and influence monsters: based off of the 1936 book how to win friends and influence people

death’s door: they were at death’s door idk

adventures in babysitting: based off of the 1987 movie by the same name

time after time after time: based off of the cyndi lauper song? [x]

the slice girls: prolly based off of the spice girls idk

plucky pennywhistle’s magic menagerie: yeah idk

repo man: it’s a 1984 film too

out with the old: they were fucking around with antiques

the born-again identity: obviously based off of the bourne identity which i haven’t seen in forever

party on, garth: hahaha

of grave importance: it was very important

the girl with the dungeons and dragons tattoo: probably based off of the movie/book the girl with the dragon tattoo. 

reading is fundamental: reading is fundamental. go read a book.

there will be blood: there was blood

survival of the fittest: everybody fought idk

okay i’m gonna stop here for this one because i’m tired asf and i’ll do part 2 later 

[alarawriting]

Writeober 20-Demons

The thing looked like a toad, if toads were six feet tall, bloated to the point where it was impossible to imagine them successfully hopping, and had razor sharp teeth. Walter backed away from it, reaching for a weapon, any weapon, but he didn’t have one.

Dwayne chuckled. “You see it, don’t you?”

“If by ‘it’ you mean a giant motherfucking toad monster, yeah, I see it,” Walter said, holding his hands out in front of him like he could possibly fight off a giant toad monster bare-handed. “So am I gonna be seeing giant toads all over the place now?”

“Naah. They don’t all look like toads. I fought one last night looked like a bottle of Scotch.”

Walter was not sure if this was a metaphor or not. “A real demon, or a real bottle of Scotch?”

“Well, it don’t matter all that much, since my demons generally look like bottles of Scotch, or bottles of some kind of booze, anyway. But in this case, it was the kind of demon you punch, not the kind of demon you fight by ignoring it.”

“How do you tell the difference?” Walter asked. And what’s that mean for me? His own demons didn’t  look like bottles of anything; they looked like a world where nothing mattered and he was worthless. They sounded like his mother and his schoolteachers and everyone else in the world telling him he was stupid and useless and he should just go die. That was not very much at all like a giant toad monster.

“One way is, you try punching it and see if you get into a fight. Bottles of Scotch don’t punch you back if you punch them; they fall on the floor and break, or they don’t. They only punch back if you drink them.”

“I am not punching that thing.”

The old man grinned widely, yellowing teeth bright against lined brown skin. “Guess I’ll do it for you, this time,” Dwayne said, and marched right up to the toad monster.

Its tongue shot out, trying to grab him. Dwayne grabbed the tongue, instead, and yanked it, hard, throwing the toad off balance. As it fell forward, he wound up his arm and punched the thing, hard, right between its toad eyes. This caused him to lose the tongue, which came at him again. This time he managed to get the tongue down to the floor and step on it, and from there he was able to punch the demon in the head three or four times before the creature got its tongue free, and disappeared.

“You kill it?” Walter asked.

“Nah. Only the person a demon’s come to torment can ever kill it, and it’s damn hard even for them,” Dwayne said, breathing hard. “But you can drive it off. Give whoever the poor bastard it’s come for a break from it.”

“What’s a toad demon do?”

“No way to know. If you’re not the guy it’s after, you’re not gonna know what it’s doing. Could be temper – make a fellow lose his often enough, he ends up in jail, maybe shot by the cops, maybe accidentally kills someone, maybe his girlfriend leaves him and his kids hate him. Could be depression, like yours – make a fellow wanna kill himself. Could be booze, like mine. Or other drugs. All kinds of demons in the world.”

“And the only people who can see them are the ones who’ve fought off their own?” Walter asked skeptically. “Because damn, that toad monster looked real. My depression never looked like that.”

“You can’t see what your demon looks like to other people,” Dwayne said. “When I saw yours, it looked like a cross between a stormcloud and a pig, and it was draped all over you.”

Walter looked down. “Thanks for that again, man,” he said. “I owe you one.”

“Yeah, I know. Why you think I’m teachin’ you to hunt demons, kid? Lady name of Betty kicked the shit outta mine when I was thirty. It came back, but she gave me enough of a breather to pull myself out of the gutter, try to make something of my life, and I been fighting it ever since but most of the time, I got the upper hand. That’s the way it works. A demon hunter beats up yours, after you’ve been fighting it long enough, and then you can see other people’s, and you pass it on by fighting theirs.”

“And we don’t get in trouble? Like, if no one can see the demon, don’t we look like crazies or something, punching thin air?”

“Naah. Once you’ve engaged with someone else’s demon, normal people’s eyes just slide right off you. They forget you were ever there. They gotta be demon hunters themselves to be able to see you, and if they are, they can see the demon.”

Walter shook his head. This was not how he’d expected his future to go. He’d won a scholarship, and he’d planned to go to college, get a degree, get out of the ghetto and get a good job. Depression had had other ideas, and the college hadn’t offered any help at all. His grades had dropped, he’d lost the scholarship, and the future had fallen out of his reach… which had made the depression far worse. He still had a hard time not blaming himself for his failure.

Now he worked at the local McDonalds’, trying to study up to apply for a postal worker job. Could be worse; his boss was an asshole, but he liked his coworkers and at least he had a job. He’d managed to beat back the depression for a while, at least until he started seeing monsters everywhere. And then Dwayne had come along while he was considering killing himself, and done something – Walter hadn’t been able to make out what he was doing, at the time. Now he knew Dwayne had been fighting Walter’s demon, and the depression had cleared up enough that he’d been able to pull himself back together again… and now, Dwayne was explaining to him what the monsters he was seeing were.

Humanity was haunted by demons. People haunted by demons might harm other people enough that demons could take hold of their psyche; other people were haunted by demons no matter how good their lives got, because it was part of their biology. No one could clearly see their own demon – you couldn’t punch your own demon to drive it away. You had to fight it the hard way, from the inside. But if you’d been successful at that, at least for the time being, you could see other people’s demons. And apparently, according to Dwayne, you could beat them up, and relieve other people’s pain for a while. Maybe help them get strong enough that they could fight the things themselves.

“This shit don’t pay the bills, though,” Dwayne said. “You still gotta have a real job. So far, I ain’t seen no one manage to turn ‘demon hunter’ into a paying job.”

“I figured,” Walter said. “If so many people are fighting their own demons, though, how come more of us can’t see them?”

“Some people just can’t see them no matter what. No idea why not. Maybe most people can’t. Maybe we’re special. Like the Slayers on ‘Buffy’.”

“Like what?”

Dwayne rolled his eyes. “Shit, I keep forgetting how old I am. You must’ve been, like, six when that show was on the air.”

“Oh, you mean ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer.’ Yeah, I’ve heard of that. Not really my thing, though.” Walter looked around, half-expecting the toad monster to come back. “Do we even know whose demon that was?”

“Nope. Ain’t easy to find out, either. Someone who lives in that apartment building, probably, but no way to know for sure.”

“Okay. So.” Walter took a deep breath. “We can see demons. Only people who can are people who fought their own – people with mental illnesses, addictions, that kind of shit – and maybe they need to be special people to begin with. Those of us that can see demons can kick the shit out of them, but only other people’s, and all we can do is make the demons go away for a while.”

“About sums it up,” Dwayne said. “So. You in, kid?”

Walter sighed. “Sure, why the hell not.”

[clansayeed]

Bound by Destiny ― Chapter 6: The Rescue

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny ⥽

Nadya Al Jamil (MC) has been struggling from the day she moved to Manhattan, but her new job as assistant to the mysterious CEO of Raines Corp was supposed to turn her luck around. Until she finds herself caught in the middle of a war involving the Council of Vampires who secretly run the city. An evil from the birth of Vampire-kind stirs beneath, feeding on the conflict, and finds Nadya bound to a destiny she never asked for.

Bound by Destiny and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Nadya’s first real job as a vampire’s assistant means venturing into a den of criminals. Lily’s girlfriend is more than she seems.

[READ IT ON AO3]

Maricruz Espinoza was born somewhere around the shifting borders of Texas and Mexico in the year 1901. Her madre moved Mari and her three younger brothers to New York to live with their extended family following the death of their father. Prohibition was ratified and her cousins found her work in the rum-running business.

They worked for a man who only went by a title: The Baron.

Somewhere else in New York City, maybe while Mari was sitting down with her brothers and a home-cooked meal, the Council was being formed of six of the city’s most powerful and influential vampires at the same time. They laid down laws — pacts by which every Council member and those within their Clan were to follow… or else. But every system just starting out has flaws. Like during Prohibition; where the mass disagreement with the law gave way to speakeasies, rum runners, and corruption. In the newly formed vampire community of New York it wasn’t as easy to keep track of those being Turned.

She doesn’t remember how it happened. Probably one of The Baron’s men got her. Maybe a newbie who couldn’t control their impulses. But she remembers passing out — the pain — and waking up feeling like she’d gone forty days and forty nights in the desert.

But with no brand to keep her safe.

It’s a startling story; the kind that makes history buffs drool and gothic groupies stare in awe through their red color-contacts. But Nadya couldn’t care less. There’s only one thing on her mind.

“Does Lily know?”

Mari’s snorted laughter is just barely above a whisper. “I could ask you the same.”

“What, that I like going to costume bars?” She does her best to hide the folder from plain sight but it’s not enough. Mari isn’t impressed.

“I could smell the Council’s claim all over you the moment we met,” her nose crinkles, “with that… stench of self-importance; of power. And you wouldn’t be here without knowing the secret so how about we cut the crap and get to the part where you and I agree to keep this from Lily for as long as possible?”

Maricruz holds out her hand to shake. Something they didn’t do when they first met at the apartment and she gets why when she takes it. The coolness of her touch; same as Adrian’s, same as Kamilah’s. Once you know the trademarks of a vampire they get easier to recognize.

Why do you care so much, she wants to ask — but doesn’t. They may both be walking into a den of wolves but at least Mari is a dog in this metaphor. Making friends won’t be on the agenda.

Mari exits the coat closet first. Gives a quick look on either side before gesturing for Nadya to follow behind her.

“What if the guard told —”

“Don’t assume things you don’t know.” Hisses the vampire in reply.

Nadya frowns. “Isn’t it better to be prepared?”

“Look,” she rounds on Nadya, “this isn’t one of Lily’s Blood Suckers games. Vampires are fucking weird — and this guy’s about as weird as they come. The ones you’ve met have probably kept up with the times. That’s not the case with El Baron here. Just follow my lead.”

While she watches Mari’s rapidly receding back Nadya sticks her tongue out for good measure. Sometimes even the little victories matter.

At the end of the hall is another door with faint music and dim lighting filtering through the bottom gap. Mari reaches out for the knob but it opens unbidden. The sudden light makes Nadya wince — her eyes take a moment to adjust.

There’s no time to ask Mari if The Shrike looks anything like its forefathers. Walls lined in red brick are decorated with the heads of various trophy animals — ranging in rarity from a common stag to what looks like (but can’t possibly be, could it?) a hippopotamus with its mouth frozen open. Ready to take a bite.

The deep cherry lacquer on the wooden floors make every polished step heard — a cacophony trying to overtake the man playing a vintage piano in the back corner. Beside the piano man a bartop begins, the same wood as the rest of the place, with the old-timey feel of an unlived nostalgia Nadya gets when she sees old movies. Only this isn’t a prop — the generous layer of dust on dozens of the bottles lining the reflective back wall prove that well enough.

A few men smoking fat cigars near the entrance pause their conversation to watch Maricruz and Nadya enter. Their eyes are dark; shadowed. Indulgence and arousal bead on their upper lips.

One catches her gaze and winks; pulls back his lips in a smarmy grin to reveal yellowed teeth as tobacco smoke pours from his maw like a burst dam. Nadya hastily rushes to catch up with the hem of Mari’s dress. His amused laugh is charred and guttural.

Mari leans up against the bartop and belongs. They both do on the outside but Mari — she acts like it. Names long-forgotten smuggled gains for them to drink and doesn’t take the bartender’s grimness for a ‘no.’

She hands Nadya a tumbler of honey-colored alcohol with a cube of clear ice in the middle. Nudges her to partake silently while downing her own. The booze carves a long path down her throat and settles uncomfortably. Makes the room suddenly seem a touch warmer — which only makes the chill venting in that much worse on her bare arms.

“You’re shit at this.” Mari mutters.

Nadya accepts an unspoken challenge then. Places her glass back down and gestures for a refill — which burns possibly more the second time around. But the deed is done and Mari looks a combination of impressed and exasperated.

Probably not what Lily had in mind when she suggested her roommate and possible-girlfriend get to know one another better. But life is full of surprises.

Nadya mimics her companion; leans back against the bar with her elbows on the edge. Still keeps the envelope clutched so tight it might puncture. They survey The Shrike’s inhabitants together.

“So, which one?” Nadya whispers. She’s got her eyes on a man with a beard to rival Santa and a monocle. He looks stately enough to be in charge.

“Hm? Oh,” Mari shakes her head, “The Baron isn’t up here. If he was it’d be a sign for us to high-tail it out.”

Before Nadya can question her Mari’s blue curls bounce — she jerks her head towards a set of stairs at the back of one of the brick walls. There the lamps are dimmer still; barely casting a glow on the golden railing descending into the dark.

“Down there?” Nadya asks.

“Yup. El Baron rarely comes up from the Pit. Likes the fighting too much.”

“Of course he does.” Because why would things ever be easy for me is her unspoken complaint. She steels herself and tosses her hair over her shoulder. Ready to enter.

Then Mari grabs her by the arm.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Nadya breaks free after a quick struggle. “My job.”

“You’re a human going into the Pit. You’re gonna get eaten alive down there. Literally.”

“Adrian said —”

Mari barks a laugh that settles in Nadya’s stomach at an awkward angle. “‘Adrian said,’” she mocks, “no matter what he said there’s no way you’re leaving this place alive without sticking by me. He’s probably already looking at new applicants.”

Mari may be right — Nadya knows she wouldn’t have even gotten in the doorway without her help. But she’s still a Clanless vampire in a Clan den and from everything Adrian’s told her there’s nothing good coming out of something like that. And… and she trusts Adrian. He wouldn’t send her to her death. Not when he went through so much to save her life.

He wouldn’t.

“Maricruz,” Nadya keeps her voice low, feels the fuzziness of strong alcohol at the edges of her words, “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. But I came here to do one thing and, I’m sorry, but I can’t back down now. Not with how much is at stake.”

It makes the vampire shake her head in disappointment. “Like you could possibly know…”

“I know the Clans and your kind have their issues,” Nadya continues, “but I’d like to think getting to the bottom of the Feral crisis would benefit everyone.”

Whatever Mari was ready to say dies in her eyes as she takes in Nadya’s words. She silently mouths ‘Feral crisis?’ but nothing more. There’s a sudden consternation in her brow. Whatever it is, Nadya doesn’t know, but she does take her opening to slip out of Mari’s immediate space — heads towards the stairs to the Pit.

“Thank you again,” she’s sincere, too, “maybe we’ll catch up like Lily wanted. When I’ve done my job.”

Despite everything inside her screaming against it, Nadya turns and descends into the Pit.

Oh yeah, that’s definitely The Baron. She didn’t expect him to look precisely like the love child of the Monopoly man and the Godfather but some stereotypes just can’t be overcome.

There’s a brawl out in the middle of the floor. A couple men in a no-holds-barred brawl while onlookers jeer and trade bills with every punch and fumble. Others keep to sofas and stools littered around the walls. Nadya nudges her way through a pair of tall twins to catch sight of the fighters — and she quickly wishes she hadn’t.

One’s eye isn’t just purple, it’s bulging and crying a little blood and looks like it might’ve gotten skewered by one of the little metal shivs inside an audience member’s martini glass. One man’s suspender straps hang limp and broken around his waist near a large gash in his side. The other favors his ribs slightly and it only takes one look to understand why; she’s only ever seen internal bleeding on television but if it’s anything like real life it looks like that.

There’s a crash and a whooping cheer from a flapper on a man’s lap; Nadya and the crowd hastily step aside as a broken bottle neck-end rolls into the fighter’s fray.

They both dive for it at inhuman speeds. Red eyes and fangs may be not unlike show props but these aren’t fakers — these are vampires through and through. The one with both good eyes claims his prize; turns with the brown glass glinting in the light of the overhead chandelier.

She turns away, eyes squeezed shut, and the crowd erupts into applause.

“Can’t say I’m surprised a little treat like you ain’t got the stomach for violence. Begs the question of what you’re doin’ seekin’ it out, though.”

His mobster accent is almost farcical. If she wasn’t so near hurling up her lunch at the smell of blood she’d laugh. But when Nadya raises her head and looks into the bright red eyes of an oily patron laughter is the last thing on her mind.

The watchers have started to disperse; give Mister Oily a wide berth to reach out and slide his arm around Nadya’s waist. She struggles for freedom but this vampire isn’t like Maricruz; there’s no questioning whether he’s friend or foe. His nails threaten to tear the fabric of her dress; dig in hard enough to make her wince.

“O-Ow. Let go of me. Now.”

His grin widens. “Hey now — don’t be like that. We could have fun, you and me.”

“Yeah,” she rolls her eyes, “I doubt it.”

But her wriggling attempts at freedom seem to only excite the vampire more. He’s close enough that she can smell the whiskey on his breath. Whiskey and the same smell coming from the fighting ring.

“Seriously. Let go.” She tries again. “You do not wanna piss off the guy I work for.”

“And who would that be?” barks a gruff, angry voice from across the Pit.

Nadya feels sweat bead down her spine in a thick drop. If the callout was good for one thing it was getting the vampire’s slippery hands off her — but at what cost.

She takes a moment; steels herself against the look of sudden fear on the creep’s face before she turns bodily to face The Baron in his large booth.

The Pit is silent. The only breath — hers.

Before she can open her mouth The Baron’s beady glare darts up to the vampire behind her.

“I’m guessing you didn’t bring your own tart tonight, Arnold?”

Arnold? Nadya mouths in disbelief, but Arnold definitely isn’t as funny as his name.

“Nah, boss. Was busy finishin’ that Litchfield job.”

“That’s what I thought.” The Baron’s head turns to look around the Pit. The fact she can’t see his neck makes him look almost animatronic.

“So whose whore is she, then?!”

Whispers and mutterings travel between the vampires in a breeze. One looks ready to say something but his friend holds him back.

Her first instinct is to be extremely offended — but there’s no Kamilah, no Adrian to protect her this time — so she stays silent. Feels the presence of Arnold back off into the shadows to leave her in the proverbial spotlight.

The Baron doesn’t seem pleased he’s met with silence. His scowl deepens and he turns a similar shade of purple to his pinstriped suit. Then he levels on her.

“Well go on, kitten,” said not with seduction, but building ire, “go back to your master.”

Just before panic sets in, she recalls Adrian’s final words before dropping her off at the subway station.

“You’ll want to be brave and stand your ground. But those aren’t mutual, Nadya,” and his knuckles went white from his grip on the steering wheel, “you have to treat a Council member with respect even if they don’t deserve it. We all hate The Baron but that doesn’t mean we can treat him however we want. Bow as you approach him and announce who you are. Lies won’t do anyone any good, least of all you.”

Being brave and standing her ground aren’t mutual; that’s what he’d said. This must be what he meant.

Nadya’s careful not to step in the pools of drying blood on the concrete floor while she approaches. A pair of larger vampires step closer as if to stop her but she doesn’t falter — keeps walking with her head held high.

The Baron holds up a hand littered with golden rings. “Let her come. I wanna see who told this hussy she had a pair of balls over tits.”

In front of his seat Nadya offers the shortest and most curt of bows she can muster. If Adrian hadn’t mentioned it specifically she wouldn’t even have bothered. Not like the pig deserved it. But the display makes The Baron shake with a haughty laugh.

“At least she knows her place!”

A flapper beside him flashes a brief fanged smile. “Think you can get her on her knees? I’d like to see that.”

“Now there’s an idea.” He looks Nadya up and down with hunger and greed. “Hear that, hussy? Why don’t’cha get on your knees? Rouge ‘em up a bit.”

She swallows down whiskey-tinged bile and offers the envelope instead.

“I’m here on behalf of the Council. You’ve been served.” Thank you, Law and Order.

All eyes fall on The Baron. His upper lip curls; he swiftly snatches the envelope from between them. When he catches sight of the wax seal he his anger bloats him further.

“Adrian fucking Raines; how am I not surprised…” The Baron rips the flimsy seal — practically yanks the papers out to give them a good look.

This part she wishes she’d discussed with Adrian. Did she need to bow before leaving? Could she just take off? Was Maricruz still upstairs waiting to see if the shrieks of her untimely demise would pierce through The Shrike?

The Baron gives the contents of the summons several derogatory huffs and snorts; clenches the packet in his fist as though it were as thin as tissue. Whatever superiority he looked upon Nadya with first is now gone — replaced by loathing, spite. A desire to see pain and revel in it the same way they had with the brawlers.

“Too much of a pussy to come here himself, eh?” And because it takes Nadya a moment to realize he’s addressing her, he barks: “Speak! Fucking bloodbag.”

Hot frustration bursts in her gut. “Like you would have let him in? I’m not that stupid, and neither is he. But you’re bound to the summons now, Baron, there’s no getting out of it.”

His chest puffs up. “You come into my territory, speak to me like that… Of all the cockamamie insults Raines could pay me this is by far the worst.”

With nothing but a gesture from The Baron, Nadya doesn’t even have time to blink before she’s held in place by a vampire on each arm.

“Hey!”

“‘Hey!’” parrots the same flapper. The rest of the Pit laughs at the display.

“Pathetic,” The Baron sneers, “Raines couldn’t even send a pretty twat to wet my whistle. Still… now comes the question of what to do with you.”

Nadya struggles in vain. “Dude, if you —”

The Baron jerks to a stand and causes a collective gasp around the room. He jabs the packet in his fist at her with a bellowing roar of rage. “How dare you speak to me with that kind of disrespect! What kinda whore do you think you are?!”

“I’m not a whore!”

The word cracks in Nadya’s throat as The Baron backhands her with his clenched fist. Sends her head snapping aside and a dizzying pain to shoot through her body.

“I’ve had about enough’a your lip!” To his men, “Lock the whore up in the Cellar. Maybe a few decades down there can teach her some manners!”

“A whore’s a whores a whore.” mocks the flapper; though one brazen look from The Baron has her silent as the grave.

The vampires begin to drag Nadya — still struggling — towards a door at the darkest part of the Pit. Heart racing words choked up in her lungs fear stifling her every breath she looks around, almost on the cusp of begging for help, but the only thing she sees are dozens of pairs of bright red eyes and malicious sneering grins.

There is no help.

“You can’t—can’t do this,” she shouts back to The Baron. Tries to dig her heels into the floor and feels one snap off. There’s a blur on her right and she watches with disgust as Arnold sucks on the heel stem lewdly. “Adrian knows I’m here! He won’t let you do this!”

“Is that so, toots?” His rage quelled, The Baron resumes his seat and throws his arms around the back of the sofa. Two flappers curl up against him and flash Nadya twin hisses.

She hates to sound like a cliche but the words tumble from her unbidden. “You’re not gonna get away with this!”

One of the vampires nearly yanks her arm from its socket to get the Cellar door open. The darkness calls to her, cold and villainous. Holy crap.

“Pretty sure I already have. Who’s up for another brawl, ey?!”

The vampires of the Pit cheer. Nadya bursts into tears.

There’s nothing she can give them in trade and begging for her life just seems so… pathetic. Like somehow she’s supposed to be stronger than this just because she’s a part of Adrian’s Clan. Or because she belongs to them, more like.

The Cellar is a long row of rusty cells on both sides. Some are empty. Some have captives — vampire or mortal, she can’t rightly tell — thrusting themselves out through the bars; spurred onward by the thought of freedom. They pass one where a figure with their back turned to the door stays huddled on the ground; motionless — lifeless, thinks Nadya, and she tries to break free of their hold one last time to no avail.

“Lookie here, we gotcha a neighbor.”

Nadya looks up when she realizes they aren’t talking to her. They’ve stopped in front of an occupied cell.

A man — no, not with those eyes, a vampire — stands in the middle of the cramped space. While some of the others they had passed were wearing worn rags or clothes that didn’t quite fit with the time, this man’s rust-red leather jacket and tight jeans could very well get him on the cover of a magazine. His devilish gaze is half obscured by his mop of dark hair.

Despite the dire nature of her situation Nadya can’t help but feel like she’s being imprisoned next to a pop star.

One of her jailers nudges the other; frustrated. “Why’s he sayin’ nothin’?”

“Probably too hungry,” the thug grunts a laugh, “ey, Jaxxie? You too hungry to think right?”

But ‘Jaxxie’ keeps his vow of silence. Nadya’s heart breaks for him.

The thuggish one grunts at his friend. “Maybe cellin’ him next to a human will drive him crazy faster.”

With a rusty squeal the empty cell door to their right gives way. Nadya’s never thought of herself as claustrophobic and isn’t looking forward to revisiting the idea.

She stumbles as she’s shoved inside. Expects to hear the slam of the cell door. But instead one of the vampires looms in the doorway; transfixed.

“Oi, you comin’?” The other vampire sounds distant. Likely eager to get back to watching the fights.

“Yeah yeah,” replies his friend in a dazed tone. The longer he stares the more Nadya wishes she had been locked up with ‘Jaxxie.’ “Just wanna have a taste. Dun’ care what the Boss said — she’s awful pretty.”

“How are you a literal cartoon henchman?” Nadya spits — literally spits — and watches with brief satisfaction as it lands just shy of his eye. The vampire recoils — then snarls with fangs bared.

“Oh that’s it, I’m gonna bleed your whore neck out!”

With a cry — so much for her flash of courage — Nadya squeezes her eyes shut and prepares for the pain. She’s not spent much time considering what having her throat ripped out might feel like — so when there’s nothing but the tingle of her nerves dialed to eleven she’s almost glad death wasn’t as awful as they said.

Then a solid thud shocks her into looking where the vampire lies face-down on the concrete cell floor.

The broken-off end of a billiards cue sticks out of his back.

After she scrambles to the back wall Nadya watches the vampire’s death unfold. His skin withering, sucking in on itself and going dark, veiny gray. Then like snow under the sun he begins to wilt; flecks gathering into the air and dispersing. When she realizes he’s turning to ash Nadya sucks in a breath and holds it; cheeks puffed and nose plugged, to keep any from getting into her lungs.

The cue collapses onto the ground; the perfect (if unlikely) weapon for this particular evil.

A brief echo of footsteps spur her to action; Nadya grasps the cue and holds the jagged end out like she knows what to do with it. In theory, yes — execution however might prove to be a bit more difficult. Doesn’t stop her from trying.

She should feel relief when Maricruz appears in front of the bars with the other half of the cue dangling in one hand and a long tube in the other. But adrenaline and probably the closest she’s ever come to sheer unadulterated terror keep her on edge.

“Ma—Mari…?”

Mari eyes the sharp wood. “I’d like to see you try, chica.”

The vampiress offers her a helping hand to stand. Nadya takes it warily; wavers before practically going limp in her arms. Mari holds her up — displeased.

“Alright, I appreciate the attraction but I’m really more into geeks.”

With a strangled laugh Nadya manages to stabilize herself against the cell bars. Mari nods as if satisfied with her effort. Then, in a blur, she’s five feet away and forcing a ring of old metal keys through the bars of the cell beside Nadya’s.

“Took you long enough, Espinoza.” Grunts a deep voice on the other side of the wall. The keys jingle as they’re sorted.

Mari shrugs. Obviously nonplussed by the frustration of her companion.

“Well you weren’t the one on the ground looking like a snack.”

“You only say that because you’re attracted to her type.”

“What, women? That’s lesbophobic, Jax.”

“Yup, that’s me; your big ol’ lesbophobic boss.”

She watches as the man in leather — Jaxxie, no, Jax — twists the right key and kicks the door open with a deeply rooted sense of satisfaction. Mari offers him what Nadya previously thought was a tube, but the sparse torchlight of the Dungeon catches on the steel blade of a sword as he unsheathes it.

“Holycrap...”

Jax swings the sheath strap over his chest and looks between the women.

“You know her?”

Mari looks for a moment as though she’s debating introductions. Finally she nods. “Yeah. She’s uh… well unfortunately she works for Adrian Raines.”

If he was previously disinterested Jax’s expressive growl of anger says it all. Makes Nadya feel weak in the knees again.

“And you rescued one of the Clan’s cattle… why, Espinoza?” He rounds on Mari who, to her credit, doesn’t flinch, move, or blink.

“She’s dating my roommate.”

Both Jax and Mari look at Nadya in surprise. She swallows down her racing heart and leans on the cue for support. “What, she didn’t tell you that before? She’s dating my very human roommate, Lily.”

“She mentioned an interest… but not that she was human.” Silent words are exchanged between the vampires, but Mari doesn’t intend to let it last.

“Come on. We need to get going, like, five minutes ago. You can give me a real thank you when we’re back at the Shad —”

Maricruz cuts herself off. Both of them exchange glances and focus on Nadya.

It’s frankly frustrating as all get out.

“Listen,” she wearily gestures between them, “I don’t care. Like really — I couldn’t care less right now. Just… please help me get out of here. That’s all I’m focused on.” Then she fixates on Mari with a pleading look. “Just help me get back to Lil’.”

Maricruz definitely doesn’t seem the type to ask for permission but there’s little else the look she gives Jax could mean. And it makes her stomach drop when he seems to actually be considering leaving her behind. But, after taking in the state of her, he looks at the very least pitying.

“Yeah, alright. Lets get her up. Here, help me with her arm.”

It takes no great effort on the part of both vampires but every last drop of energy Nadya has to hold onto them during the escape. Later she plans on asking them exactly how they got out — what hidden sewage ducts they must have wormed their ways through — but that would be much much later.

“Thanks for giving me your boots.”

“Borrow. I let you borrow my boots. Next time don’t break a fucking heel so you don’t end up limping all the way through an escape.”

Nadya wiggles her toes in the roomy leather and nods. Hugs herself tighter against the night chill while Mari watches her with attitude and a cock in her hip.

“You can take them back on your next date with Lil’.”

Mari takes a moment of quiet thought; when she speaks she can’t help but be hesitant. “You’re not gonna…?”

“Tell her?”

Mari nods.

The breeze brushes Nadya’s hair in her eyes. She quickly pushes it back. “If you like her, whatever. If you hurt her, though, or get her involved in business like The Baron’s, or whatever samurai-dude’s up to —”

“Jax. His name is Jax.”

Right, Jax. He’d left them once they reached the inner city — but not without a promise to Maricruz that they weren’t finished talking. Nadya even felt a little bad for her.

Her point stands. “You keep Lily out of this. At least until I find a way to ease her into it.”

“Why you?” Mari challenges, but it’s halfhearted and without much threat behind it. “Whatever. See you around, chica.”

Mari’s not gotten two steps away before Nadya calls out to her, fumbling around her costume dress frantically.

“Hey, think you could, uh…” She gestures awkwardly to the door.

“What,” then, with raised eyebrows, “you want me to break the door lock?”

“Well my keys are at work and Lily isn’t answering the comm.” Yes, she should probably head back to the office, to Adrian, but first — a shower.

A shadow crosses over Mari’s face. The same sort of vampiric darkness that Nadya’s been forced to endure so many times tonight — it makes her cringe. “What? She’s probably asleep.”

“She had an Underwatcher tournament tonight. That’s why we didn’t go out.”

“Maybe it’s over?”

The looks they exchange carry Mari’s worry to Nadya almost telepathically. Her grip tightens on her half of the wooden cue.

It takes everything inside her to force down her building exhaustion — to follow Maricruz through the busted complex door and up the back stairwell two steps at a time. Her vampire speed wins out as she pushes open the door to her and Lily’s floor.

She’s only just made it onto the landing when Maricruz screams.

“LILY!”

Nadya rushes to the open door of the apartment and clings to the threshold — the edges of her vision going fuzzy. Mari’s on her knees over something on the kitchen tile.

Nadya’s senses have become all too familiar with the smell of blood after tonight’s trip to The Shrike. She violently heaves on instinct when the salted iron tinge assaults her nose.

“Lily, baby, come on — come on open your eyes for me — Lily! Lily! Fuckshit LILY OPEN YOUR EYES!”

Numb, Nadya watches; her world contracting into sharp clarity at the sight of Lily’s crumpled body lying in a pool of her own blood.