#sinking my teeth in like a rabid dog

[ash-dav818]

my beloved <3

[the-chesapeake-r1pper]

He's so pretty. ❤️

[emjiroki]

*sigh* thinking about Enji and his big hairy boobs

[supercantaloupe]

hang on i just realized how closely this blocking in l'ultima prova mirrors that in mi tradi.

the most production ever.

[ddejavvu]

bff james w no boundaries — his main love language is physical touch and that includes biting,, like 😭 you’ll just be minding ur own business n he’ll bite your shoulder or anywhere really.

hope ur doing well angel. ❤️

"Here, Remus," You offer up a spoon of blueberry tart to the teenage werewolf, unphased by now at the closeness of your friends. Perhaps at eleven you'd be worried about swapping cooties when sharing spoons, but now you're only worried about plumping Remus's gaunt frame up again before the next full moon.

You extend the spoon towards Remus but in doing so you have to bypass James who's sitting beside you on the bench. You'd expected him to fake a lunge for the sweet, but when he opens his mouth and sinks his teeth into what's in front of him it happens to be the flesh of your arm.

"Hey-ow!" You yelp, and despite your word choice, it doesn't really hurt. It's more of a grasp than it is a bite, just enough force to pin your arm between James's infuriatingly perfect teeth.

"Prongs," Sirius's face screws up in what you're sure is a mix of embarrassment and confusion at his friend's behavior, but perhaps there's a slight possibility of fear there, too. Fear that James has become a cannibal and the boy with the bed next to his will suffer tonight.

"That's good." James retracts his bite as quickly as he'd dished it out, smacking his lips like there'd been something swallowed and enjoyed, "That's good arm."

"You're a freak." Remus drawls, finally taking the tart from your spoon and letting the flavors wash over his tongue, "Pads and I are supposed to be the biters. Deer are just supposed to run away from everything."

"That's not true." James defends his animagus with a passion while Sirius snickers across the table, "Deer fight with their antlers. Sometimes deer fight so hard that their antlers come off. And deer do bite sometimes, thank you very much."

"Only during mating season." Sirius references the copious research they'd each done into their animal counterparts, "Don't steal another page from the dog book and start humping her leg, Prongs."

"It is not my mating season!" James exclaims, just a bit too loud for the social setting you're in. Your cheeks are blazing but thankfully James is making a fool of himself enough that no one is studying you. "I'm simply overcome with the urge to sink my teeth into people when I'm feeling particularly fond of them. Y/N's making sure Moony's stomach isn't flatter than his ribcage, and I appreciate that. Only a good woman shares her blueberry tart. Hence," He grins, more of a baring of his teeth than a smile, "I bite."

He leans down to take a chunk out of your shoulder this time, and you feel the sharp-but-gentle pricking of his teeth even through three layers of clothing.

You have the time and the power to raise your shoulder and clock James in the teeth with your bone. But you refrain, and perhaps that's why Sirius finally latches onto you instead of James.

"Careful, darling." He warns, his own canines glinting in the candlelight above, "Deer can go rabid. I'd make sure you're not contaminated with his saliva if I were you."

"Too late." James grumbles around the meat of your shoulder, raising his head quicker than you can react to lick a fat, wet stripe across your face, "I'm not rabid, Pads. But I can see why you dogs do the licking thing. It's not bad."

"Yes it is." You decide, smearing away his sticky spit with the sleeve of your button-up, feeling the phantom sensation of his teeth on your skin, "And if you do it again I'll bite you back."

"Kinky, you two." Sirius kicks you beneath the table, a wicked grin on his face, "Remus, I think we should take our meal elsewhere. Prongs and Y/N are about to start necking right in front of the pastries, and that's not the glaze I prefer on my donuts."

[barbieaemond]

It’s quite simple I need to sink my teeth in and shake him like a rabid dog

[yeyinde]

“When your need grows teeth” is so good I literally bite the pillow like a dog while reading it!!! I need to know more about Ghost and the ‘unlucky person was misfortune enough to unleash the muzzle on that particular dog’.!!!!!

haha i really didn't think people would pay much attention to it, tbh! i like adding little things like this into the stuff i write. a little story within a story, i guess. but i would love to flesh it out, since where it was this undertone of "oh, you..." (sort of cheeky, kinda sly when you looked at the bigger picture) with Price, it would more-so be, "oh, no..." with Ghost.

Price's original convo with Ghost would have been acknowledged as gospel and adopted into Ghost's own scripture for the longest time (since it's my weird little hc that Ghost uses Price as a yardstick for normalcy—or, almost like a needle in his morality compass), and then seeing Price give into those needs was sort of like this big moment that caused that compass to go haywire.

essentially, if Price is a starving dog, then Ghost is one on the verge of death, willing to sink his teeth into anything just to survive. and that's sort of the crux of it. in my head, Ghost would have been unleashed by this, but what took the muzzle off is his own MC, who thinks they're taking in this sick, old dog from off the streets, and helping it as much as they can, only to wake up and realise this dog is rabid. and it already bit them. but what really caused this poor person such misfortune was that little tossed in line by Price when he's volleying with Laswell about his status. Or damn near close to it. and that's what sealed their fate lmao. the implication that this baby is somehow more permanent than a ring.

idk! i like the idea of someone sweet, if a little naïve, being bit by him, a man who wakes up most days thinking he's still buried in a grave. or what happens when a living corpse feels heat for the first time in ages after being given a bed and a warm body with a soft touch. quite catastrophic, imo.

[madsmilfelsen]

dear mads, do you have any rust fics that you recommend? I fear I have run out.

I’ve been writing like a damn fiend so I haven’t read much (and I typically avoid reading anything i’m writing as to not influence my insanity)

I’m sure I’ve shouted off the rooftops about my love for Dead Flag Blues, @barbie-nightmare-house really is one of the most engaging writers I’ve read with an acute level of introspection I will never dream of achieving. Even though I know roughly where the story is going I’m so stoked to bottle it up and drink it down like cough syrup again and again and again. Detective Indiana Abelard can come kick my ass any day.

No Dominion by rosereddawn (E, rust/ofc need to be logged into ao3 to read) one of my favorite Crash-era reads with a fantastic perspective, gave more depth to the girls of Iron Crusaders than anything the show did for them

under a swollen silver moon by blackeyedblond (M, rust/marty centric) MONSTER RUST MONSTER RUST MONSTER RUST SHAPESHIFTING AU OF MY DREAMS

I think we’re all familiar with the masterpiece The Creeping Woods (E, rust/ofc) by am7f that knocked all three eras out of the park and let us see Rust as a dad again (I wept like a baby for at least two hours after finishing myself)

No Mouth to Scream (T, no pairings) haunting lil piece following “Rust Cohle lies in the dark and dreams of women”

Something Stuck in Your Teeth by enkelimagnus (E, rust/marty) it is not often something can make me blush but boy howdy (a sequel was recently added too!)

What I’d like to read:

The idler wheel is wiser than the driver of the screw by ohnoitsnina (M, rust/ofc, first person pov)

lavender bitters by blackeyedblonde (E, rust/marty/maggie)

Strange Is The Night Where Black Stars Rise by orphaned account :’( (E, rust/reader)

A History of Bad Men by am7f (E, rust/ofc)

something in the night by harryhart (M, rust/ofc)

cornflower blue by blackeyedblonde (G, no pairing)

basically everything @reds-writings has ever posted

shades of black and blue by saintsansa (T, rust/ofc)

The Last Time I Saw You by scioscribe (M, rust/marty)

out of time man by @palmviolet (M, rust/marty, which i’m only seeing now is apart of a series with SIX WORKS IN IT!!!!!)

Snippets/Upcoming pieces I haven’t stopped thinking about

@netherfeildren I know ur working on something that i’m going to sink my teeth into a shake like a rabid dog

A Crash-Era snippet by themilkteeth

A Crash-Era snippet by @argesta

[sadly-in-active]

I'm down bad for Lotus...

So how about them x vampiric reader?

Lotus Dragon x Vampiric Reader

Summary: After encountering multiple victims and draining them, you happen to stumble upon the Lotus Palace…well, seems worth a try to get some more silly victims, hm? Well, unfortunately for you, the moment you stepped foot in Lotus Dragon’s territory, you were instantly brought into the throne room by Hydrangea. Of course, it was a shock that the glorious Blue Dragon wanted to see someone like you…but then they offered a shocking…yet tempting deal. Well, drinking the blood of a dragon would definitely give you some bragging rights, no?

TW: Vampire blood stuff, unaware if this would be a oneshot or hcs, not proofread and made right before sleeping, my fingers hurt from playing pjsk, and Lotus is tying you up and depriving you <3

Right from the start, you're confined to a specific room, isolated from everyone. It's not that bad, really. There's a small pond with lotus flowers, some books to read, and a bed with smooth sheets and flower carvings on the headboard. Sure, you're imprisoned with nothing to do but read and look at the flowers, but it's much better than being tortured and completely deprived of any source of blood.

When you drink Lotus’s blood, they purposefully wait until you’ve stopped your useless begging and annoyed grumbled, only allowing you to drain them when you’re done being a whiny little thing. The Blue Dragon goes into your room and sits on your bed, as if waiting for you to come to them like an obedient little dog. They pull you up into their lap, finally permitting you to drink.

However, if they think you’re being a little too greedy with your actions, they stop immediately while you desperately try to reach back and sink your teeth into them, whining as the dragon wipes any excess blood that you had forgotten to lick up and glaring at your pathetic form. Honestly, did you think it was going to be that easy? Hah!

If you’re being especially bratty, they merely let out a sigh of exasperation, before reaching under the bed to grab something. Ribbons? Hm. You didn’t think that Lotus was into that.

The Blue Dragon usually grabs your wrists and ties you to the headboard, before sitting up and looking down at you for a moment. Usually they just leave you there, struggling to get out of the ribbons. Why do you struggle? Well, probably because these ribbons are about as strong as chains. How mean. >:(

But on some occasions, they press their cold lips against yours. Why? Probably to see you squirm in confusion. After all, being punished then being rewarded at the same time would be certainly strange, yes?

“Oh, you pathetic soul…you’re so greedy for my blood, you become intoxicated after just a few minutes. This is why I must punish you. Ah, if only you weren’t acting like a rabid animal whenever you look at me.”

[summertimemusician]

Linktober Shadow 2024, Day 1, Woods

Man I need to write for First more. Anyway! Another one done and polished, nice and soft and technically a continuation/missing scene from one of last year's one shots that I'm really glad to be able to finish and post. As always the reader pov is gender neutral (can lean either side to whoever is reading) and can be read as romantic or platonic and in or out of an LU context, though I am mainly writing for an hypothetical iteration of First in LU since he is not officially in the comic but a lot of people accept him as part of the official Chain (the author included), and really that's what we have aus for lol. (Also uh, possible TW{?}, just to be safe for those who are squeamish/can't handle graphic descriptions: OoT Dead Hand and it's lore is it's own warning and I do reference it. As always mind your safety and health dear readers. ) Enjoy your reading!

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Long, pale, thin arms bend in shapes not meant for a human body, too many joints bend with sickly cracks, thin fingers adorned with elongated, winking crimson claws hook around your arms and legs, too many limbs that should not belong to a single being reanimated through a sickness of the world holding you in place with indomitable strength fueled only by rigor mortis and hunger no matter how hard you struggle. A stabbing pain upon your skull rips a howl from your throat, a sound better suited to a dying animal than a human being, in the corner of your eye you see the thing slowly slinking closer, once pale robes a mottled, dusty gray, bloodied from the life force of previous victims and fellow tortured souls.

You are a pinned butterfly upon a board, frozen with a primal terror as the claws lacerate through flesh digging, tearing like a rabid dog's teeth upon an unfortunate deer, the things wide, staring eyes meet yours from the top of an impossibly long neck barely supporting it's elongated head, instinctively your struggle renews itself. Gagging at the sickly sweet smell of rot and sick, the scent of metal thick in the air squeezes the breath from your lungs, a cocktail of desperation and helplessness flooding your entire system.

("H—")

It died starving, and hunger still settles over it's decaying features. A broken jaw contorts and twists in a cold, toothy mimicry of a human grin, grotesque and unnatural between the rotted gums and exposed teeth, burning it's stark, decaying and sunken features into your mind.

("—ong?")

The putrid corpse's too blunt, too human teeth sink into the hollow of your collarbone, tears through skin, rips through tendons, it cracks and grinds through bone and meat, something sinks into your pores and it burns. Something too thick to be saliva, closer to tar as it nests beneath your skin like an infection, eating you inside out and you scream and scream and scream-

"Wake up!"

Your eyes snap open as you bolt upright, a scream bitten down with practice from one too many nights traveling in a group haunted by the things called nightmares and insomnia from a life of fighting.

It's just you, the nightly whispering of the woods, the crackling of the fire and First.

The knight's stoic posture relaxes, softens a little, stern features creased as concern flickers through twin azure flames, the moonlight turning his hair the same shade as wheat fields in summer. "My apologies for waking you, I could not bear to watch the terrors interrupt your rest any for any longer."

You breathe in the sight of the hero, of the woods of Twilight's era with it's dark trees shedding honey and maple scales onto the ground as life went to slumber and the smell of birch and maple and hawthorn and attempt to quell your shaking. It's a futile effort, you're shivering from the late autumn breeze like as if the woods' leaves had taken a human shape, the memory of the empty eyes and a sunken skull and fine strands of human hair clinging to a decaying skull sinks it's claws into your mind. "There's no need. It was probably for the best." Your gaze drifts around the camp as you palm around for your quilt knocked over in your struggle, the firelight allows you to see the other boys, and you distractedly note your long dagger is right where you left it; it helps loosen the hold the hooks that night left on you, you swallow thickly. "Did I wake anyone up?"

First shakes his head, your shaking fingers meet fabric and your distracted mind is yanked back to reality when the motions of using it's warmth and weight as a shield against the world are already done.

It's not your quilt, painstakingly made with Malon's help and teachings inherited from Sun on one of the quieter moments you and the Chain had in each era since you've started traveling with them. A mark of friendship that served as a balm for difficult days.

(A little after Sun confirmed you were not a threat, to the relief of your cautious companions, a little before you had found First half delirious with duty not yet fulfilled and death stolen from a mortal body and blood loss and dragged him from the brink with meager medical knowledge and later back to the Chain on your back.)

It's First's cape, as red as the feathers of his and Sky's loftwings, soft and warm and carrying the scent of breezes through hylian fields and leather and metal.

There's a quirk to his generally stern, elegant countenance as you turn your shocked eyes to his, as amused and warm as he's allowed himself to be. First's hand falls over yours as you make to remove it, cautious and with as much care as a bird landing on someone's hand, you can't help but marvel a little at it, the part of you that would either jump for joy or break down into sobs from pride were you not so tired. First was the most distant of the Links, drifting just on the edges of the Chain, with a kind heart that had chunks ripped out both by cruel fate and still bled to this day; he could be cold, of course, but anyone could see how weariness had been carved into the lines of his being. A spirit made to never be broken but not never damaged, who never had a chance to heal.

"You need it more than me." He rumbles softly, insistently. You catch the glimpse of the discoloration on his wrists as his hands reach to readjust the scar, not unlike the tears marring your arms and your heart aches a little.

You've both come a long way.

You stop your motions with a small sigh and as soon as the knight is done, you pick up your discarded quilt, determined to return the favor. You know it's his turn to keep watch, as him, Warriors and Time generally swapped the second turn between themselves (much to your exasperation and the Chain's), but there's no reason he can't continue doing so comfortably.

"Join me? It's chilly and it's not like I'll be going back to sleep anytime soon." You offer, offering him the blanket in turn.

First tilts his head and gives you a look, it's a bad excuse, it's only mid autumn after all, the campfire, and you're both well aware that he's withstood worse than the fall winds between his imprisonment and crossing the skies atop Vermilion.

Still, he nods, the ghost of a smile clings to the edges of his face as he sits by you. Allowing you to wrap the quilt around his shoulders, facing the fire and the woods. "Of course."

You smile, it's a small thing of broken glass and haunted nights, but it's there.

Between the crisp, cool autumn air, the return of your smile, the one who unwittingly guided him back to his fellow heroes and the knowledge that he's not alone, that's more than enough for First.

The two of you spend the rest of the second watch quietly chatting, First about his time with his fellow knights, before the imprisonment, about Orville and the ballads and legends of his time, you trade him stories of your own home, myths and legends, tales and stories you've grown up hearing and reading in your childhood into your adulthood. At some point you drift closer together, his chin atop your head and your head on his shoulder.

It's peaceful.

Neither of you have nightmares that night.

(A gentle hand hesitantly finds it's way to your head, lighter than a feather, clothed in butterfly scales and diamond dust, it brushes softly through your hair. The pale figure smiles, careful fingers softly rest over First's sleeping face, and the being's eyes soften, clearer than the sky on a summer day, a hum leaves the pale entity's slender throat, and the world follows in symphony.

Content, She does not linger.

The wind through the trees sound like singing.)

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

Fic: Something to Sink Your Teeth Into 11/?

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Vampire/Witch!AU

Read on AO3

Cover Art, courtesy of the amazing @bornunderabluemoonbaby because my flabbers are still utterly gasted.

Evan had never felt the need to fill silences between him and Maddie with meaningless chatter.

With almost anyone else, he couldn’t stand the quiet. It reminded him too much of the house they’d grown up in. Sitting at the dining room table with no sound except the scrape of cutlery on plates. Walking through the door after school with a good grade or a sports achievement and knowing that no one cared to hear about it. Ignored birthdays. Holidays parties where he was supposed to sit quietly in a corner, his shirt collar tight around his neck and his shoes pinching his feet. Silence always reigned in the Buckley house.

Maddie was the only person who ever broke that suffocating silence; the only one who ever brought light and warmth and laughter into the house when he was child. But the quiet was bearable around her, as well. His parents’ silence was so heavy—full of anger and disappointment, crushing him under the weight of it. With Maddie, quiet could be comfortable. Soothing. A warm blanket of calm that draped over him and kept him warm and safe.

He'd never felt the need to fill silence when he was with Maddie, but he felt it now. There was so much he wanted to say, so many words that wanted to pour out of him in a torrent. He couldn’t bring himself to do it, though. Couldn’t bring himself to let all the things he wanted to say to his sister come out. Doing so felt…permanent. The things he wanted to tell her, the things he wanted to say—if he actually gave them voice it would be like admitting that this was it. This was the only chance he’d have to say them.

It would make what was about to happen real.

Maddie’s grip on the Jeep’s steering wheel was white knuckled as she pulled into the Greyhound station parking lot. She shouldn’t be here at all—it wouldn’t look good for her to be seen driving him—her brother who was recently banished for murdering her husband—anywhere. She’d refused to let him face this by himself, though, casting every stealth and hiding charm on them that she could, and enlisting her own familiar, a young peregrine falcon named Sebastian to help hide their actions from the rest of the coven. Their parents would probably figure it out, but they’d barely spoken to him since he was sentenced (even now, even now that he had finally fulfilled his only purpose in their eyes—sixteen years too late, but better late than never—they wouldn’t break the suffocating silence he’d grown up with) but Evan couldn’t imagine they would care so long as Maddie wasn’t caught.

Evan had a ticket to Columbus, Ohio waiting for him at the window and a list of cheap motels within walking distance of the Columbus bus station. Beyond that…he hadn’t thought beyond that, honestly. He had enough cash for a few days in whatever motel he ended up at. Maybe a week if he was careful.

The clock in dashboard said he had a little more than an hour until midnight. According to the bus schedule, he’d be well over the Ohio border by midnight. Out of the Pennsylvania high coven’s territory. A little more than an hour.

And then his coven bond would be severed.

Dissolved.

He would be cast out of the only world he’d ever known, rejected by every person in his life. No one would be allowed to help him, to take care of him…no other witch would be permitted to so much as let him crash on their couch for a night. From midnight tonight until the day he died, every witch he encountered would have to give him the chance to leave their presence peacefully or be driven away. Like a rabid dog. Like a criminal. Like the murderer his society now believed he was.

At midnight tonight, the seven days and seven nights the Pennsylvania high coven gave him to vacate their territory would end. His coven bond would end.

He…he wondered if it would hurt.

Losing his bond with Sally hadn’t hurt, exactly. There was no physical pain, no sense of wrenching, breaking, or severing. There was simply…darkness. His bond with his familiar had been a warm glow in the back of his mind since he was ten years old, a light as bright and soothing as his magic. Her gentle affection pulsed through their bond with every heartbeat; her smooth, rich voice sounded in his head every day. He’d grown so used to her voice—the help and advice she doled out without ever expecting anything in return; the way she never hesitated to tell him she was proud of him; the way she called him her little love like he was still the lost, lonely boy that she had shocked everyone in their coven by bonding with after nearly fifty years of declining to take on another Buckley witch.

It hadn’t hurt, but he’d still collapsed to his knees, nearly throwing up, as the space in his heart and mind that had been filled with the light of their bond went dark and empty. It had been sudden. Almost instantaneous. Only hours after his sentence had been handed down, shortly after it became common knowledge in the coven. She hadn’t even said goodbye.

He knew he shouldn’t have expected her to. He’d made Sally lie for them—more accurately, he’d forbidden her from speaking out at his trial at all, which he knew had gone a long way in convincing several members of the high coven of his guilt. Sally was one of the oldest and most respected familiars in the state—had been loyal to the Buckley coven line for almost three hundred years. The fact that she hadn’t “been willing” to testify on her witch’s behalf had carried weight. The only time in all their years together that he’d exerted the power a witch could hold over their familiar and he’d forced her to lie. To help condemn him for a crime he didn’t commit.

She’d believed in him enough to bond with him even though she’d refused to take on a witch in two generations. Sally had loved him, nurtured him, trained him, and he’d forced her to lie for him. Forced her to watch as he threw away all the potential she’d seen in him. He knew she loved Maddie too and would have argued vehemently on Maddie’s behalf once she realized how badly Doug was abusing her…but he was her witch. He was her priority. She wouldn’t have willingly sacrificed him for his sister.

He just wished he’d been able to say goodbye. To beg her for forgiveness. He wished his last memory of her was not her staring at him in horrified betrayal as he silenced her.

But what was done was done. There was no going back. And he couldn’t truly regret what he did…not if it kept Maddie safe.

“Evan,” Maddie said softly, her hands clenching and unclenching on the steering wheel as she stared out of the windshield. “I—call me as soon as you cross the border, okay? I want—I want to talk to you for as long…as long as…” She broke off with a choked sob, burying her face in her hands before flinging the door open and scrambling out.

Evan scrabbled at his seatbelt and slid out as she raced around the front of the vehicle, barely getting to his feet before Maddie threw her arms around his neck. “Mads,” he whispered, his own eyes prickling. He thought he’d cried himself out.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “Oh God, I’m so sorry I got you into this. I shouldn’t have left, I should never have—”

“No!” He almost shouted it, wrapping his arms as tightly around his sister as he could. “No, don’t say that. You, you, you’re so strong, Maddie. I’m so glad you were strong enough to leave…a-a-and I’m so glad you were strong enough to do what you had to do to protect yourself. I don’t…I don’t regret this, okay? I don’t. Being…being banished is, is, it’s nothing if it means you’re safe, okay? It’s nothing.” He pulled back slightly so he could look down at her, trying to force a smile. Judging by the way her tear-streaked face crumpled, he didn’t achieve the desired effect. “I’ll…I’ll be all right,” he promised, the words feeling hollow even to himself.

The truth was, he had no idea what he was going to do. How he was going to survive on his own. He just knew he was going to have to figure it out.

But Maddie was safe. As long as no one ever discovered their lie, she was safe. That was all that mattered. Everything else—being banished, losing Sally, eventually losing his magic—everything else he could handle as long as Maddie was safe.

Eventually, Maddie pulled back, wiping her eyes on her sleeves and breathing deeply. “I know,” she said. “I know. And I’m going to help.”

Evan sighed, his heart aching. “Mads, you know you can’t. Once the coven bond is gone, you can’t do—”

“I know,” Maddie interrupted, stepping around him to reach into the Jeep and popping the glove compartment. She pulled out a thick manila envelope and shoved it into his hands. Frowning, he opened it, and his eyes went wide when he saw the thick bundle of cash stuffed inside, as well as a folded sheaf of papers. “I was planning on leaving the state after I got away from Doug. Finding a new coven, getting set up somewhere where…where we could start over.” Her voice shook again. “Somewhere warm and sunny.”

“By the water,” he finished, his eyes filling despite his best efforts. How many times had they dreamed of running away together, once Evan was old enough to seek a new coven? Somewhere where they were both wanted and welcomed, where their coven saw them for who they were and not just what prestige they could bring to the bloodline?

Somewhere they could each find people who loved them, who they could love in return.

Stupid dreams. Stupid, childish dreams.

“There’s a little over ten thousand in there. And some of Grandma’s jewelry she left me—pawn it if you have to, okay? Don’t feel bad.” Evan gaped at her, and she just gave him a watery smile. “And I want you to take the Jeep.”

“What?! Maddie, no…no that’s—”

“I don’t want you to have to rely on bus tickets or…or hitchhiking or something. I already transferred the title to your name, so just…just don’t argue with me.” She bit her lip, reaching over to grab his hand and squeezing it hard.

“Your magic…your magic will take a long time to fade. Probably a couple years, at least.” Her face dropped, a sadness that had nothing to do with what was about to happen to him filling her eyes. “Maybe longer. The money won’t get you all the way through, but it’ll give you breathing room. As soon as it fades, you call me. I’ll stay in Mom and Dad’s house—I’ll stay as long as it takes, so you can always find me. You call me the day it’s gone, Evan. The instant. And I’ll come. I’ll come find you. Gloria’s going to ride the ‘grieving mother betrayed by a coven member’ sympathy all the way to a place on the high coven” she continued, referring to her mother-in-law, a powerful witch who had been the loudest voice calling for Evan’s death as retribution for Doug’s. “Once she has that, she won’t care about me or our family…I know she won’t. I’ll be able to leave the coven.”

“Maddie,” he started, the argument they’d been having since he’d been sentenced leaping to his tongue.

“Evan,” she interrupted, reaching up to put her hand over his mouth. “I—I’m not letting you lose everything for me and have to face it alone. I…I understand why I can’t come with you now. Doug’s family wouldn’t stand for it, and if they find out you’re innocent it’s both our heads. But I refuse to let this be the last time we see each other. I’m not losing you too, damn it! If it costs me my magic, so be it. I’ll leave the coven and let it fade. But I’m not losing you.” She pulled him into another fierce hug. “We will see each other again,” she swore. “We will. Just hang on for me, okay? Take care of yourself, and hang on until we can be a family again. A real family.” She stepped back and held one hand up, her pinky finger extended toward him.

It felt impossible. To think that Maddie would be willing to give up her magic, her bond with Sebastian, just to come and make a new life with him, even as much as she loved him…it felt impossible. But Maddie never lied to him. Slowly, he curled his pinky around hers and tried to believe.

*

As soon as Evan slid behind the wheel of the Jeep, he felt safer.

That was a completely irrational thought, of course, as Kinard immediately climbed in beside him…but he couldn’t deny that having the Jeep back made him feel better. It was the last connection he had to Maddie. The last gift she’d given him, her final act of care for him. He couldn’t help but feel safer in it. God, he’d been so scared it had been left behind at the mansion.

“We’re heading for Sunset,” Kinard said, buckling himself into the passenger seat. It struck Evan as odd that a vampire—and apparently nearly thousand year old vampire, what the fuck?—should feel the need to wear a seatbelt. It couldn’t even be habit…Kinard predated automobiles.

By, like, a lot.

“Where are we now?” he asked as he started the engine, listening to the familiar chug and cough before it caught. Kinard tilted his head slightly.

“Sounds like your alternator’s about to go,” he remarked. “And this time of day, the I-5’s about twenty minutes away. Just turn left on the street here.”

Evan ignored the comment about the alternator, and pulled out of the parking space, following the path that the other two vampires had just taken. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kinard tense slightly as they pulled out onto the street, only relaxing when the clear, LA sunshine blazed through the windows, and he didn’t immediately start smoking. It hit Evan, then, just how much of a leap of faith Kinard had taken, trusting his spell to block the sun’s rays correctly. He’d even admitted back in the apartment that sunlight could still kill him.

Evan could not figure this vampire out.

Everything he knew, everything he’d ever been taught, everything he’d ever read or been told or heard from Sally told him that Kinard couldn’t be trusted. That Evan’s life was in mortal danger every second he spent in the vampire’s company. And yet…

And yet.

Apart from that initial bite, Kinard hadn’t hurt him. Granted, that wasn’t nothing…but if everything Kinard was saying was true (and as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he couldn’t actually think of a reason it made more sense for Kinard to lie to him than to simply…what had he said the other coven master would have done…cut Evan’s tongue out and lock him in a basement somewhere), then he had rescued Evan from that party. Evan still didn’t trust him—Kinard had bitten him, and his promises to let Evan go weren’t actually worth much until he did. But he had to admit that Kinard didn’t…didn’t seem to want to hurt him.

He had promised to let Evan go.

And he’d protected him from his own coven.

Granted, he kind of got the feeling that Sal had been more seeing if Kinard was bluffing than actually trying to kill Evan, but still.

Still…

He still didn’t understand why his magic had deserted him when he tried to attack Kinard. As much as he wanted to believe he was just overtired or needed more time to recover from being drained, he knew that wasn’t so. His magic had never behaved in a such a manner before, and he’d never heard of witch blood granting a vampire protection from that witch’s magic. One of the few positive things he could say for his parents was that they’d never neglected his education. The Buckley family library was extensive and well-stocked, and he and Maddie had received the very best magical training that money could buy until they’d bonded with their familiars. Even then, his parents had supplied anything and everything that Sally or Sebastian requested.

His magic was not gone, not incapacitated in any way. Now that he’d eaten something, he could feel the strength of his power building back quickly. Soon, he’d be good as new. But he had the distinct feeling that he still wouldn’t be able to use his magic against Kinard. It felt…wrong, somehow. His magic was a calm, gently pulsing glow in the back of his mind, no sense of alarm or unease despite being so close to the vampire. It hadn’t gotten any less disconcerting, but his magic had never steered him wrong before. Maybe…maybe Kinard really was telling the truth. Maybe he really didn’t want to hurt Evan.

“Thank you for coming with me to do this,” Kinard said suddenly. “I get that your situation makes talking to other witches…complicated.”

Despite himself, Evan snorted. “That’s an understatement,” he muttered. “But it’s not like I had much choice.” He didn’t mean it to come out quite as bitterly as it did. Kinard shifted in his seat, looking over at him with that same almost regretful expression he’d fixed on Evan back at the loft.

“I’m not—no, you have every right not to believe me. But I hope you’ll give me a chance to prove I’m not going to force you to do anything, Evan.”

Evan bit his lip, feeling as though he was being pulled in two separate directions. On one side was everything he knew to expect out of the vampire, based on what he’d been taught. On the other was the steady instinct of his magic, insisting that he was safe with this man, that there was no danger here. It was giving him a headache. “You want to prove something to me, keep your promise. As soon as we talk to your friends, I’m gone.”

For a brief second, Evan could have sword Kinard looked almost disappointed. “I gave you my word,” he said quietly. “As soon as we talk to Athena Grant and Howie, you’re free to go.” Evan knew it was crazy to entertain a vampire’s promise for anything. However, if things between the vampire and witch covens in LA really were as tense as Lucy had said, then he owed it to all the innocent witches in the city to do everything he could to prevent a coven war from erupting. He didn’t know what telling his story to Kinard’s friends would accomplish, but now that he’d had some time to calm down and think, he knew he had to get the word of Jonah’s betrayal to someone. A witch giving up another witch to vampires…that went beyond the laws of his banishment. That even went beyond his need to keep his real identity secret.

Not all covens were like the ones that he’d grown up in. He knew that. And for the sake of those people, he had to try to help.

He quickly orientated himself to where they were and headed for the highway, the silence stretching between them…but Evan was startled to realize that it wasn’t exactly uncomfortable. He was still tense. Still incredibly on edge. And yet, the silence wasn’t the suffocating quiet he’d grown so used to as a child, the kind of silence filled with anger and disdain. This silence didn’t feel dangerous.

It didn’t feel comfortable. There was none of the soothing warmth that his sister brought to the quiet. And yet…and yet he almost felt safe.

His thoughts were interrupted when Kinard’s phone rang. Fuck, was Evan’s phone still in the glovebox from last night? He hadn’t even thought to check. Kinard pulled his phone out of his pocket and frowned at it, thumbing the screen to accept the call.

“Howie? We’re still about twenty minutes out, I—whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down.” Kinard paused, listening to the other person, his face growing stonier by the second. “Gone? What do you mean he’s gone? Damn it, Howie…fuck. Okay. Okay, yeah, we’re pretty close to there. I’ll…I’ll see what I can do. I’ll call you in an hour.” He disconnected the call without saying goodbye and turned to look at Evan.

Evan did not like the look in his eyes.

“Change of plans, kid. Greenway’s gone missing.”

[astoryfullofwoe]

I’d kill you with my kiss but you’ll kill me just the same

What can you say to 

someone who licked 

blood from wounds 

while others were sucking 

milk from teats?

How do you love a rabid dog?

The answer is simple:

you don’t. 

You euthanize it. 

You euthanize the dog 

because it’s contagious;

it is sick and you are not. 

It does not even have to bite—

a lick would suffice to kill. 

Sinking my fangs into tender flesh 

and holding on for dear life 

is the only way I know

how to call something mine. 

If I were to hold your hand,

I would crush your fingers. 

I don’t know how 

to love without possession  

to the point of destruction. 

I cannot love you in the way 

you deserve to be loved;

I could claw my heart out of my chest,

feel the veins popping, 

hear the ribs snapping,

and offer it to you like Holy Communion,

still beating in my hands and

bleeding down my arm, begging

consume it, make me a part of you,

but that won’t change the fact that 

you’ve never quite acquired 

a taste for raw meat. 

My tastes are known;

kindness and I were never friends. 

A gentle hand did not raise me, 

wolves did, and they do not 

take kindly to a soft belly. 

Don’t you understand? 

You’re a complete crisis of my faith. 

The sun could never love a black hole

without eventually succumbing to the darkness. 

I would ruin you for anyone else. 

My hands would stain your lovely skin–

ash-dirty handprints marking you up,

scarring like an infection, ‘til the end of time. 

My rabid dog kiss of death 

would follow you around, 

the foam from my mouth 

sticking to your teeth like plaque. 

I beg you, don’t let my rot fester

and peel your flesh from bone. 

Besides, you would ruin me for everyone else. 

I wouldn’t be able to feel 

the sun on my skin 

without recalling how much 

it feels like your touch. 

I’d never be able to open myself to another 

because in every lover I’d take,

I’ll look for grains of your face, 

haunting my narrative with your tendrils of life. 

Love will forever be 

synonymous with your name. 

You’ve made a graveyard of me, my dear;

your chest: my final resting place. 

I sleep in your aorta, eyelids fluttering,

with dreams of your smile and warm mouth,

and hope to never wake up. 

[starrierknight]

I need to cannibalise him. I need to sink my teeth into his throat and rip it out, shaking my head frantically like a rabid dog. I need to break his ribs and claw through his skin and hold his heart in my hands and devour it.

with love!

[midnightanxietytm]

its been a while since ive had such a violent reaction to an obsession as im having with cult of the lamb

and when i say violent, i mean violent! I want to sink my teeth into each character and violently shake them like a dog with their favorite plushie i want to make that goddam lamb, the bishops and the fucking cat bleed in the most poetic way possible I feel like a rabid dog i don't know if i can handle more of those its not good for me soul

[show-me-urt33th]

I want to sink my teeth into something.

I want to feel flesh split between my teeth.

I want to feel something writhe and scream beneath me as I tear its throat out.

I want to feel the blood pool in my mouth like a fine red wine.

Let me be your rabid hunting dog.

I need to sink my teeth into something.

I need to see the light leave something's eyes.

I need to feel something taking its last desperate breaths beneath me as I continue to gorge myself on its still twitching flesh.

I need to sink my teeth into something.

[monomorphilogical]

The death of a white horse

I am lead through the world by the hands of my own sickness

watching them choke on the spit of their forgiveness

but the scars will arise to their defense

there's no saving the skin tightening in repeated suspense

white-knuckle the wheel in thinking a machine could still betray me

and the engine drowns out through the nods of a baby

their empty hands have already reached into the pile-up backseat

fill the night with silence born from an mispronounced sigh of defeat

when the apple rotted through the core where it fell down

besides a river of blood where that line was meant to drown

they have never taken anything away from me

the ground was already barren between the roots of my family tree

only God knows why angels wait on the shoulder of a country byway

watching from the sidelines where I let my faith decay

and I never stopped it — call it sheer curiosity

ninety-five down the highway like there's something wrong with me

I'm winning in a losing game confession and it'll never be enough

'cause I can take a hit but I'm not that tough

tell me this life's all about knowing when it's time to sink or swim

I'll jump into the river just to illicit a response from him

and all of the angels will drown with me while I run softly out of air

heaven has forsaken the fate of a broken up radio station prayer

'cause I am strangled to death by love

forever listening to a white horse trample the ground above

I can only keep it steady on fractured concrete

the same way I continuously cut the knee on my hometown street

with dirt-covered fingers pressed against the flayed open nerve

— God never gives you more than you deserve

but it's not anyone's fault and I don't need nobody to pull me out

daddy told me that the white horse is something I should do without

so I watched it leave while I begged but it never came back

soaked through with tears until the world went black

woke up with my morality swinging forth from the ceiling beam

I used to be so good but they have made me mean

in between the jaw of a rabid dog 'cause its breath keeps out the cold

and the fear is there but it's getting fucking old

down on floorboards I've worn out by praying on my knees

I'd keep the wolf from the door if I wasn't weak from this disease

their teeth break my scar tissued skin so easy

and I'll lay there steadily bleeding out until they see me

'cause I am strangled to death by love

forever listening to that white horse trample the ground above

I am what they have made me — they will never save me

God will carve unto my body that he wishes he'd never forgave me

all of my bones will grind to dust beneath the weight

my edges sharpened to a knife until decay is all I'm able to create

hold me by the neck and lift my weary feet off the killing floor

I'll beg you to stop and you will bear down to give me more

'cause I've killed myself again

my skin gives so easy — but I didn't know it back then

all of my guts and glory spread throughout the power line valley

no different from a scared child running through the alley

after my daddy said white horses would never find me

I'll beg to the sleeper for a place to hide me

letting in a world of hurt with every straggler I drag home

but when they lay down next to me they'll never feel more alone

and they'll tell me quietly it feels like sleeping next to a dead body

they don't know my momma took me out back and shot me

I bit the bullet with lidded eyes and leaded limbs

corroded away until all my soft spots became cess pools for their sins

the body of a child molded into an afterthought for years to come

praying for a fist to the face to keep it from going numb

my hands are taught to throw a punch so I'll never hold it too tight

I'm winning the losing game by succumbing to every fight

no one will be there awaiting my survival to save me

and God will hate the way I have become what they made me

— 'cause I am strangled to death by love

forever listening to that white horse trample the ground above