#that would be for dracula a good reality check

[castlephantom]

Imagine if Dracula went in the afterlife to see Lisa, but he also sees Elisabetha.

That would be chaos and drama.

I'm curious on Alucard's view on afterlife for thinking Lisa and Dracula would be in remotely the same place.

Clearly he thinks every soul goes to the same abyss no matter what you did in life.

Though if that is true, I'm not sure if Dracula would be resting in peace when he risk meeting every person he ever hurt.

Leon: Hey, Mathias. Remember me? Remember what you did to Sara!?

And the list just get longer as time goes on

[feraliminal]

Just wondering, how do you think Skibidi Toilet will affect tech-head (camera, speakers and TV) character designs afterwards?

Would skibidi toilet popularity cause such character designs to be immediately reminding people of skibidi toilet? Mind you, I actually like skibidi toilet series. But the latest news about Michael Bay adapting it means it'll probably get a lot bigger in public consciousness, and I don't want to be seen as a rip-off.

Oh, that’s a super interesting question, and one of the first I’ve had! (Note to people in general, I have the “must be invited” vampire autism, so I’m not great at being outgoing, but I am friendly really, so feel free to ask stuff or say hi!) My first thought from a fandom anthropology perspective would be to check out if there’s any precedents and how that’s played out. Unfortunately nothing comes to mind about how to find that out.

So I think what I’d say is that some people who aren’t really familiar with object heads might assume that tech head characters are from Skibidi Toilet, but people who are actually interested in the character concepts won’t. And that spontaneously (or even not spontaneously) having the same ideas as other people is totally normal, and worrying about that is also totally normal, but you shouldn’t let it hold you back from sharing your creativity. You know that what you’re doing is yours, people who are genuinely interested in your character/s will love them, and people who are unfairly judging them at face value aren’t worth worrying about.

I expect that it might happen a little bit, because people do confuse similar-looking genres - like some people believe that all Western animation is Disney or all anime is naughty tentacles. But on the bright side, the Alliance factions do have a specific look - types of camera/speaker/TV, clothing styles, colour schemes, post-apocalyptic setting, etc. I’d expect that would probably continue into a film, and it would function similar to other genres of character - everyone knows about Dracula, but vampire characters aren’t considered rip-offs of Dracula unless they’ve got the cape, the widow’s peak, etc. And even if they are derivative, eg. Alucard from Hellsing, they can still be really original and fascinating characters in their own right.

Also, there’s the question of whether even it matters if something appears accidentally derivative. I’d very much like to say it absolutely shouldn’t. If you’ve had the idea, and you know it came from you, then it’s your idea, and it’s just one of those pranks that the universe plays if someone else had the same idea. Another point of view could be that there’s no original ideas - there’s a theory called “cultural universals” that says the same symbols keep showing up in different cultures because they mean something about how we understand the world.

“Human-shaped things with non-human heads”, for example, are a trope as old as human culture. Animal-headed people are the oldest. I’m including a pic of the Dancing Sorcerer, because I love them and have used their concept a ton in my non-fandom life even if they might not actually be that authentic an example of cave art (and actually a story about someone interpreting a smudgy sketch as a deer-person, and then as a sorcerer, is also interesting). The lion man is authentic. A pretty direct ancestor of today’s object heads could be Japanese tsukumogami from the 12th century or earlier. We obviously personify animals as being like us because we can see they behave a bit like us, but in the case of personified objects, the connection is that humans personify everything because we’re so good at spotting emotion - it’s so important for maintaining relationships with other humans to know that, for example, a person we treat badly will be upset that we also worry that a tool we mistreated won’t work because it’s upset too. That’s useful in itself because then we take better care of our stuff.

However, in reality, it’s hard to get over worrying about being derivative. I’m autistic and returning to fandom after a five-something year absence, so I’m still not comfortable with the unspoken social norms. Looking like I’ve swiped someone else’s idea is one of the (many haha) things that scares me, and I’ve abandoned unfinshed fic because someone else has written/drawn something that’s… kind of maybe the same if you peer between your legs and look at it upside down.

It actually annoys me how many ideas I’ve abandoned or haven’t been able to finish because I’m worried about people’s reactions - but no one’s actually reacted really badly at all. I wouldn’t want anyone else to have the same experience. And if I was advising someone else in the same situation as me, I’d say that it doesn’t matter if something is kind of similar at first, it’s how originally it’s used that matters. Anyone accusing someone of swiping an idea or being derivative or somesuch just because they happened to have the same idea at the same time (and aren’t actually, like, copy-and-pasting bits of someone’s fic or something) is just being a massive wanker. Even in the world of making media for money, people have the same ideas all the time - like schools where children learn magic, an impulsive character with a red colour theme and, probably one of the oldest themes, a hero maturing by going on a journey and facing a challenge. Check out the TV Tropes wiki for endless examples, because some of these themes really are older than dirt.

[adrianicsea]

Hello, I just want to say I'm getting most of my film recs from you. And I was wandering, have you seen any fioms that aren't western that you would recommend. I just don't know where to start. Anyways, have a nice day.

hi!!! that means so much to me— i love sharing the movies i’m passionate about, and it means a lot when people tell me that they check out a movie because of me 🥹

by non-western films, i’m assuming that you mean films not from the US or from western european countries— if that’s not the case, please let me know!!

i actually haven’t seen a ton of non-western movies myself, and that’s something i’d like to address!! but as far as non-western films i HAVE seen and enjoyed, here’s some that i’ve recently seen or ones that are still memorable:

promare— japan, anime, action/scifi. follows the adventures of galo, an enthusiastic member of a team of firefighters facing off against a terrorist group of pyromancers known as the mad burnish. as galo learns more about the mysterious leader of the burnish, lio, galo comes to question the way burnish are treated in society and if lio’s actions are truly in the wrong.

perfect blue— japan, anime, horror/thriller. mima, a retired j-pop idol, is being stalked as she pivots to an acting career. she loses her grip on reality as a series of strange, violent events begin to happen around her, including a vision of her own former idol self.

sweet home- japan, horror. when a film documentary crew sets foot in the mansion of a notorious deceased artist to research and create a tv special about his frescoes, they awake a dormant evil. this movie is notable because its tie-in video game was a direct inspiration for the resident evil series!

noroi: the curse— japan, horror. this is kind of a found footage/mockumentary style film that starts as an exploration of a purported “curse” and the strange events surrounding it, and then escalates to become something absolutely wild and ABSOLUTELY terrifying.

beau travail— france/djibouti, drama/thriller. while this film’s director, claire denis, IS french, she grew up in colonial french africa, and this film as well as many of her others explore west african culture and issues. in beau travail, the disgraced french legion sergeant galoup recounts the tale of his fall from grace and his cardinal sin of betraying one of his own, a beautiful, kind, and noble young cadet named sentain. this film is a loose adaptation of herman melville’s story billy budd, and it also explores the ongoing effects of the french legion’s presence in djibouti!

nosferatu— silent film (made in germany), horror. if you’re interested in learning about film history at all, western or otherwise, you can’t NOT look at the german expressionist movement! this is a classic, quintessential vampire story— in fact, nosferatu was made as a dracula ripoff when the director FW murnau was not permitted to make an ACTUAL film adaptation of dracula.

metropolis— silent film (made in germany), scifi. this is another legendary entry in the german expressionist movement! in a far-off, hyperindustrialized future, the richest people in metropolis live high above the ground, oblivious to the constant, dehumanizing labor and miserable conditions that are endured by the workers living down below. a sweet, naive young boy from the upper levels named freder finds his way down into the guts of the city, and he is awakened to the suffering of his fellow man and begins to agitate for a workers’ revolution. the work and effects in this movie are BEYOND impressive, especially for something that’s nearing 100 years old!!!

good manners— brazil, horror/fantasy with some musical elements. in são paulo, a poor nurse named clara manages to secure a job as a house sitter, nurse, and nanny to a rich single soon-to-be mother named ana. as the two of them begin to fall in love, ana recounts the story of her baby’s father, and reveals that both he and her unborn child are werewolves. this is a gorgeous, sensitive, and original take on the werewolf genre, and the creature effects are amazing!

RRR— india, musical/action/epic. this is kind of a fictional “what-if” scenario about the meeting of two real-life indian revolutionaries. bheem is a man from a tribe living traditionally in the jungles of india; raju is living as one of the only indian members of the occupying british forces, a traitor to his own people. by rights, the two should hate each other— but they meet while cooperating to rescue a child and become best friends instead, neither one aware of their true identities or motives.

zindagi na milegi dobra— india, comedy/road trip movie. three childhood friends meet up to go on an adventure before one of them gets married, and along the way, they each find the courage to do something that they’ve always wanted to do, like skydive or run with the bulls in spain!!

monkey man— india, action. an anonymous young man going only by the name Kid undertakes a years-long revenge quest in order to avenge his family and village, long ago destroyed by a fascist quasi-religious leader. this film has a lot of american influences/people working on it, but given that its director and star dev patel has indian heritage and that the film deals so squarely with indian culture and politics, it felt fair to include it here.

flee— denmark/afghanistan, partially animated, drama/biopic. amin, an openly gay man living in denmark, arrived there as an unaccompanied minor from afghanistan when he was a teenager. using a combination of documentary-style interview footage with amin and animated recreations, flee tells the story of his exodus from his home and of his coming to terms with his identity.

i hope that at least one or two of these sounds interesting to you!! and if you meant something different by non-western (ex ANY non-english film, just films that aren’t from the US), please let me know and i might have some alternate recs for you :)

[see-arcane]

Honestly I don't collect plushes (instead stationary and t shirts and such) but yeah anything with Mina on her own with a typewriter or train or diary/pen or the book itself, Hell make her voluptuous too just not while being someone's plaything for Once

Honestly, it boggles my mind that there is next to nothing when it comes to Dracula stationery. Considering the novel is MADE ENTIRELY OF JOURNAL ENTRIES and Van Helsing gives a mini speech about how important it is to record everything. I would love some little Harkers on a diary, a memo pad, a set of bat-capped pens~*

But yeah, some good Mina merch, human or vampire-wise, is extremely overdue. Likewise for Jonathan and Lucy and Actual Ba(t)stard Dracula and... (checks notes) ...the entirety of the book's cast :')

Fingers crossed for making it a reality ourselves I guess🍀

*On that note, go check out Marghen's Ko-Fi shop! There's a snazzy Dracula-themed journal and stickers and keychains in there c:

[beevean]

Prompt: Hector and Mathias live with Rosaly now, and Mathias notice how the other two are growing closer to each other. :)

:)

It starts with a smile that lingers for a second too long.

Mathias knows how to read every twitch on a person's face. No one, human or not, has been able to hold secrets from him, the most renowned strategist in Europe.

And Hector does a poor job at hiding his interest in the young woman who is sheltering them.

Mathias can only hope to be more discreet than his knight, when his stomach knots at the sight.

It continues with fingers that brush against each other.

Mathias has no reason to doubt Hector, none at all. The kisses that he gifts him, the embraces that envelop him, the passion that flows from him when they're alone in their room and decorates Mathias' skin: they're the same as the day the knight pledged loyalty to him.

He's a pure man despite his sins, and Mathias would never love him any less.

But he used to be a knight in a hellish world of cruelty; surely he'd have learned how to masquerade to survive...? Perhaps he is only trying to protect his Lord's heart, the noble man that he is, but in reality his own already belongs to someone else...

Mathias grabs Hector for a kiss when Rosaly's back is turned, and allows his taste to wash off his impure thoughts.

It takes roots with a gentle tucking of Rosaly's hair behind her ear.

Hector shines in Rosaly's presence like the warm sun that bathes the small cottage. Mathias should be only happy for his beloved. God knows he deserves all the love he can receive, and if he has learned anything about Rosaly, is that she is brimming with love to give to anyone who needs it. She is the embodiment of Christendom, much more than those hypocrite philistines clad in white and gold infesting churches, and he can't help but respect her.

But Mathias is counting the days until she grows bolder and unbuttons Hector's collar, and notices the few small scars on his throat, and ask where they came from, so that he'd be honest with her and disgust her, young woman who only knows the Church and nothing about the Hell Mathias and Hector have lived through, and Hector would seek comfort into the arms of the only person who could understand the torment he had to suffer...

Then Mathias remembers the scars on Hector's back and thighs, depraved and deplorable warnings to people like Mathias who would dare to love Hector. He's playing Dracula's game. His own game.

He throws up in his mouth, and runs to check his own reflection in the mirror, to make sure he still has one.

It blossoms with a peck on the cheek, before Rosaly dashes out of the room with a poorly concealed giggle.

"Ah, my Lord," Hector stammers, rubbing where Rosaly declared her intentions. "You're not... I mean, you are not angry, are you? Please understand, you are still my Lord and nothing will change that..."

"Yes, I understand," Mathias says, stretching his mouth into a smile and holding his beloved's hand. "Don't worry about me. I'm not the Count. By all means, if you are growing... fond of Rosaly, you are free to pursue her. Rest assured that she fancies you, and I've never been wrong about people so far."

Then, hammering the stake in his heart, he adds:

"You look good together."

[fancyfeathers]

@istgtumlrifyoudothisonemoretime asked a question

OOOOOH VAMPIRESSSS. CHANGE THE AUTHOR DARLING FROM A CRIME WRITER TO SOMEONE LIKE BRAM STOKER. Like she wrote abt some creatures she vaguely saw in her nightmares and "hallucinations" (being stalked unknowingly) and realised she probably made them easier to kill than they actually were. Also will definitely bites 🩰 darling's thighs. Not just because he adores them but also to immobilize her for a bit

I am a big gothic horror fan so those are books like Dracula, Phantom of the Opera, Frankenstein, Pet Cemetery, and so on. I imagine that she would go to weird things with her author friends, like chilling in her friend’s house as she holds a séance or taking a trip with one of her friends to Paris to visit a haunted opera house. So I am just imagining her walking back home in the middle of night and since she lived in a pretty nice part of London there was nothing to worry about, but she cannot shake of the strangest feeling that she was being followed but no one seemed to be there. Then it feels like stranger and stranger things keep on happening to her, like her maid quitting one morning looking like she saw a ghost, finding drops of red blood stains on her bedsheets.

I imagine her sitting in the writer’s club she is apart of with her friends talking about their inspiration for their new books, oh one of them is based on a series of murders in Moscow, another is based a missing person case in Rome, then they ask her…

“Oh well I have been having a bunch of these strange things happening to me and it reminded me of vampire stories my sister used to tell me to scare me.”

“…I’m sorry, what?”

Another one of her friends who also writes gothic horror asks her if he can check her for something and she agrees. He check around her face, then neck, then around her shoulder…

“Oh my god…”

“What, what is it?”

“You… there is a bite mark on the back of your shoulders.”

“Oh… Oh my god.”

That would flip her world upside down and just realize what she thought was fiction was reality. So now I am just imagining his darling not being able to sleep and all I can picture is this scene from Angels in America.

But anyway I am just imagining her waking up one night when she heard something and she goes to grab the lamp on her bedside table but before she can grab it some one else grabs her wrist and she looks over her shoulder to see William standing over her bedside.

“Dear, I suggest you take a breath and calm down, after all stress isn’t good for your heart.”

But oh my god the idea of William doing that to his ballerina does things to me. Like imagine that it is something like intimacy between the two of them and he kissing up her leg but instead of serving her he bites down hard on her leg which most definitely makes her scream at the top of her lungs. He would definitely know that there is a major artery in in the thigh which supplies blood to the lower body so damage that and it would certainly be a pain to walk.

[fandoms-in-law]

On Shore in Whitby

So in the Summer I went to Whitby with my dad and had the idea of writing a fic combining the things Whitby was known for; Pirates, Alice in Wonderland and Dracula. I swapped the fandom I intended to use for this fic and it's still weird

Summary: Pirate Captain Eddie doesn't like raiding Whitby, but this time it doesn't really need to be a raid at all when someone he'd raided before getting his own ship recognises him.

/\/\

Eddie regarded the coastline they were fast approaching in curiosity and fascination. He knew it was a profitable stop, with plenty of wealthy folks to steal from and profit off, but it was also one of the most unpredictable towns they ever stopped at, and something had clearly been happening recently.

He could see the marks left from where a ship had crashed recently, and was fairly sure he was seeing the actual repairs being done also. To most sailors it would be nothing, just an accident or a new sailor overestimating how he needed to leave the port. To Eddie it was ominous, a reminder that Whitby had more than expected occurring in it than other English towns and the quaintness everyone back home attributed to these ports, here at least, was a thin mask nobody should try to look through.

“Prepare to enter port!” The call came from Gareth just behind him, echoed among the crew.

“And remember, when in Whitby what don't we do?” Eddie called as the ship adjusted course for the entrance.

“Never follow animals strange,

No drugs help what they rearrange.

Check the strangers coming near,

If uncertain, escape in fear.

Prepare for gifts to change in time,

Whitby keeps transformations in line.

Flowers can share a pretty tune,

But double check they leave no rune.”

The poem is sung back to him among laughs from his crew. They all thought it was a joke, something to laugh about, all except Gareth and Jeff who'd visited the town with Eddie many times before.

Locals were nodding at the words now they were close enough in to be heard.

Entering in daylight might seem odd for pirates to do but Eddie felt safer ensuring that at least their arrival wouldn't be subject to the bending reality that happened from early afternoon till night. It did however mean they had to follow the regulations and restrictions as well as pay for their ships placement. Eddie had insisted it was worth it for safety when a few of the crew argued it as a waste of their takings.

“Good advice, you going to share that song around the ships you leave floating?” One of the harbour masters calls, catching a rope Eddie tried to throw around a bollard to help pull them in. The man's clothes looked brand new and his hair was styled in a way only the wealthy could manage, but his movements spoke of familiarity with his job. It was an entrancing mix that had Eddie trying to figure out why a noble would be working here until his words registered.

“You mean the ships we trade with?” Eddie asked cautiously. If this man knew or recognised him or his ship as connecting to pirates he might have just found an excuse to avoid Whitby entirely, no matter how much he wanted to get to know him better.

The harbour master scoffed, shaking his head and calling over his shoulder for someone called Robin to come help him guide the ship in. “Not likely, but I get you wanting to say that. We're not going to say anything. Actually I want you to leave with more of my parents stuff than you did last time. Best thing ever done for me and I was stupid enough to ask why you were there.”

That struck a memory in Eddie's mind, years ago, before he'd taken his own ship, he'd been found in one of the town houses of the wealthy. The man looked gorgeous in the daylight where his features had been obscured by darkness and twisted by flickering candlelight on their first meeting. “Didn't expect there to be anything left in that town house. Most people move their holiday homes to other coastal towns once pirates steal from them.”

“Apparently not the Harrington's. They just leave me behind with demands to earn my own way and protect their furniture: Robin and I have checked, apparently they had gold coins sewn into some of it and more paintings hiding safes than any nefarious organisation. Come for tea and we'll start getting stuff moved aboard.” The offer seemed genuine, but Eddie still had the song in his mind, even as they worked together to get the ship tied in and boarding plank secure.

He shook his head. “Nice offer, stranger, but harbour master or not, I'm not accepting an offer like that, especially when you clearly recognise me but have given no name except one you don't seem to identify with.”

“I'm Steve, and it's probably better you and your crew do regardless. The Demeter crashed with her Captain dead, tied to the wheel. No one has figured out what happened aboard it except that its cargo was taken for final delivery before the constable could argue it as evidence.” Steve introduced, hopping aboard now and pulling out the paperwork Eddie had expected to have mentioned sooner. “I'll cover your fees whatever, and get it if you all prefer to guard your ship after that news.”

Eddie's back straightened, looking Steve over, before glancing back at his crew. He knew what types of things could do that, and was glad the warnings against strangers was already in the song if one had made it to this cursed town. “You're in the Harrington house? I'll talk with the crew and walk anyone willing to stay with you over this evening. It's best to stay in groups.”

“I'll be waiting by the door.” Steve laughed, accepting the now filled out paperwork back and waving as he left.

Before Eddie could actually start gathering his crew to share the information, a cheer rang out. On the starboard side most of the crew were hanging over the edge watching something, except the pair used to Whitby, who were closer to the captain and glancing over warily. “It's nothing to worry over yet, Captain. Just a caucus race.” Jeff muttered.

“And a few invites for tea from the mice as they ran off. It's nice that for a while we'll have a rodent free ship.” Gareth added, nodding further along the path where indeed a group of mice was running on only their back legs, grabbing rubbish and holding it up to see if it could become clothing as they went.

Eddie let out a heavy sigh. “We're definitely back in Whitby again. Apparently a monster of some kind is in town also. The ship you can see signs of crashing apparently crashed with the captain dead but tied to the wheel and no other crew aboard it. Steve offered to let us all stay with him, as well as steal everything from his home too.”

Jeff grinned, reaching out to tap Eddie gently, “Including himself?”

“Give over.”

/\/\

Eddie expected it from the moment they decided to raid Whitby. He knew something weird was coming.

He was not expecting to leave his cabin after planning with Gareth whether they should do more of a raid or just accept all the wealth Steve was willing to give them.

Earlier his crew had mostly decided to remain on the ship and Jeff had volunteered to explain more about Whitby as second mate while Gareth and Eddie did their planning. Now, well, now Eddie was pretty certain he wasn't the only one resolute on staying in the Harrington house until they were ready to leave.

Jeff had about half the crew behind him, swords and daggers in everyone's hands and pointed to the boarding plank. Further back on the ship was the rest of the crew, some pointing their weapons behind them, at a floating, grinning cats head, the rest pointing their weapons at the boarding plank.

“Captain! What do we do?” One of the men called over, moving as if to run over to him but stopped by Jeff moving his blade to block them.

“Stay in your groups, and focus on the stranger.” Eddie ordered. “Cheshire, are you just here to hang around or is there something you need?”

The cat's grin widened. “We're keeping an eye on your visitor. It's odd that he's come to you. He's been focusing on a lady visiting until now.”

“How lucky for us.” Eddie commented with a roll of his eyes. “You, who are you and why are you here?”

The stranger stepped closer. “I want passage to London from someone who won't ask questions.” Behind him an orange glow moved, a person deciding to carry their own lamp rather than just going about their evening walk by the street lamps.

“We're the wrong ship for you to chose then.” Eddie laughed, an imitation of the cruel laughter he heard merchants do moments before all their profits were lost to Eddie's crew. “Get off my ship or we'll dice you into mincemeat.”

An echoing laugh met his, the stranger straightening where he stood. “No I think you will accept me as a passenger for the wealth I can offer you.”

It was then that Eddie noticed two things, first was that this stranger, as dangerous as he seemed hadn't actually come onto his ship yet, and second the person with the lamp was now also on the boarding plank. He wasn't sure if they were friend or foe but the lamp held above the strangers head held threat, especially if the method of attack was burning the stranger. He still decided to say nothing about them.

“Got a pretty big offer for wealth already. Now I've stated my refusal of your passage and you can't change my mind. Leave.” He repeated the refusal, stepping forwards and finally drawing his own sword.

He'd had it blessed in one of the countries they moved between. Eddie had always been one for learning local stories and whether real or not would thank people for them by agreeing to take or buy whatever safety or luck charms were offered.

The blade had the stranger stumbling back so Eddie was inclined to believe the blessing had been legitimate. He was also inclined to rush over and grab Steve in a hug as before the fire from his lamp getting dropped on the stranger's head could reach the boarding plank or the ship he'd shoved them over into the water.

It meant the stranger would almost definitely survive to torment someone else, but at least that someone else wouldn't be Eddie or his crew.

“What are you doing here, Steve?” Eddie asked, refusing to let the other go and ignoring that it was probably uncomfortable and definitely a breach of social etiquette for such recent acquaintances.

Steve just laughed, “You never brought anyone to stay or even to tell me you preferred to stay on the ship. I thought Whitby had gotten to you.”

“Captain, is this the gentleman who offered for us to stay with him?” Gareth asked, clearing his throat and already knowing the answer. “Because I think after that situation, we'd all quite like to accept his offer.”

“Of course, come on. If your Captain will let me down, I'll lead you there. Does anyone need to grab anything before we set off?” Steve easily agreed, only tapping Eddie's shoulder but not actually trying to escape his hold.

Eddie shook his head into Steve's shoulder. “In the stealing from the Harrington's offer, does that include taking you with me when we leave?” He mumbled, not meaning to say it now, but after having Steve inadvertently save them he wasn't going to hold back the offer.

“Sure it does, but that's for talking about in a house with fires going if we aren't staying on your ship.” The words were enough Eddie let Steve go, searching his expression for sincerity which was all he saw, until a mischievous grin formed. “And kidnapping Robin. She'll come after us with murderous intent if only I'm taken.”

Eddie nodded, but another member of his crew clearing their throat reminded him they were meant to be heading back to the Harrington house. “Then lead the way.”

[panicv0mit]

seeing the netflixvania posting im so fucking sorry. ive yet to watch it (will suffer through it with my friend who, like myself, is also a long time castlevania fan) and this is like. seeing a forest go up in flames and deciding to walk in anyway.

my expectations were low but it seems i'll have to set them even lower. what have they done to my favorite belmont

My netflixvania posting is but a crumb compared to all the shit I got stored in my brain but if I started rambling it would never end (except I am gonna ramble a lil bit now) spoilers (?) incoming.

Let me just say that the first 2 seasons of netflixvania were actually pretty good, I loved the final fight in season 2. It was FINE, it ended on a decent note, opened the door for the other Belmonts to step in etc etc........and that's not what they did at all. They just HAD to make 2 more fucking seasons and those had MAJOR issues between the severe mischaracterization of Hector and Alucard (I COULD GO ON AND ON ABOUT HECTOR ALONE) and disgusting unnecessary SA scenes...it was fucking abysmal. And you know what? It hurt to watch like genuinely. Everything that could have gone wrong in a show did go wrong. I liked Isaac's story, Sypha and Trevor were fine. But the horrible writing could not hold the show together at all. I was RELIEVED when it ended but OOPS SORRY!!!! AT THE VERY END THEY LET DRACULA PASS ON WITH HIS WIFE!!!!!!!! HEEHEE!!!!! HOOOHOO!!! Let me ask you a question. Walk with me here, friend. What is the story of castlevania? Who are they fighting? If you answered Dracula, then you're correct.

I'm not saying you have to keep resurrecting the same villain over and over again, HOWEVER. Dracula is a ginormous part of Richter's story. THAT'S THE WHOLE THING!!! BELMONTS VS DRACULA!!!! AND THEN ALUCARD WAKES THE FUCK UP AND IS LIKE AW SHIT THE CASTLE IS BACK!!!! They literally locked themselves out of TWO storylines!!!!! There will be no rondo, no symphony. They are using the characters in name ONLY. and it fucking BLOWS. I was actually somewhat excited to see the new series, I wanted to see Richter really bad he's my GUY....and then the reality set in and I'm wait a minute....NO...NOOO NOOOOOO!!!!!! bc I knew in my heart they were gonna fumble and fuck up severely. And they ARE! I am THREE episodes in and I have felt NOTHING, the show just isn't doing it for me. The pacing is fucking weird, dialogue feels unnatural sometimes, and the overall story is just.. meh. Especially with Richter. If Annette was the only main character, I wouldn't be so disappointed bc her part is really the only one that matters, it's clear she has more of a focus put on her instead and THATS OKAY! but for us Richter fans it feels so empty, he as a character in this show feels like fucking wet cardboard. They're giving him NOTHIN. That's not him at all. It feels off everything feels wrong. The first episode was the worst so far. There was no set up, no slow pacing, just them going from plot point to plot point like they were checking off a list. It all plays out, in my opinion, like if someone was fucking around in AI dungeon and trying to make their own castlevania. That's how unnatural things feel at times. As I'm writing this I'm like losing train of thought like what am I even saying I HAVE NO IDEA. At the end of the day, it's just a huge let down. My expectations were low and initially watching it isn't THAT bad, but when I sit down and let my mind simmer on it...I just get kinda sad. Why do they keep letting ppl who clearly don't know anything about castlevania in general write these shows. I don't feel passion from it. It shows horribly. I don't wanna see another one after this but no they've already confirmed season 2 and Alucard is gonna roll up and they're gonna do whatever the fuck idk. I'm gonna go play curse of darkness and symphony of the night and make out with my wife Hector or somethin

[kouvei]

Vampire Polycula Chapter 3

This one took a while and I’m sure during the editing process I’ll change things, but we’re saving that until after the whole rough draft is done. There is a lot of foreshadowing in this one, though. Or, maybe clues would be a better term?

Also, if I messed up on the Dutch in this chapter, please let me know!

The room Dracula took them to had a common area between the four bedchambers, unlit candles placed around the room and on sconces on the walls, a chandelier above them. It was well-furnished, with a seating area by a set of bookshelves and small dining table near the center of the room, with a pitcher full of wine and chalices as a centerpiece. Jonathan had nearly set foot inside before Dracula slammed the door behind him with a loud BANG. It made him jump and caused visions to dance before his eyes, visions of the door being thrown open right before vampiric lips could touch his throat, right before Dracula insisted to the weird sisters that he was… that he was his.

Quincey’s soft gasp for air brought him back to reality as Jack and Arthur laid him on a fainting couch, Van Helsing rushing over to help attend to him. “Damn it, Quincey,” Jack muttered, half-sobbing.

“I’ll be right as rain, don’t you fret,” Quincey whispered, apparently as loud as he was able to muster.

“Why did you think that was a good idea?!”

“Just wanted to check…”

“Check what?! What he would do to us if we cross him?!”

“Check that we could still hurt him.” Jack stopped and stared as Quincey smiled. “He said we weren’t allowed to hurt him, so I reckoned that meant we still could, so long as we weren’t trying to kill him.”

“Unfortunately, that does not include convincing ourselves that something won’t kill him when we know it will,” Mina added. “I tried, tried to tell myself a blade to the heart wouldn’t kill him, but it didn’t do anything.”

“So it really is just injury we can inflict,” Van Helsing muttered.

“Speaking of injury, how are you feeling?” Mina asked.

“A little sore, but no worse than my old bones—” He stopped abruptly. “Well, no worse than my old bones used to feel on cold days. Truth be told, the shock of it all was the worst.”

Jack glanced down at his hand. “The cut’s not even there anymore,” he muttered, tapping the finger he had sliced with his scalpel. Looking down, Jonathan couldn’t even see the faint line of a scar.

“See? Right as rain, I’ll just… need a bit o’ time,” Quincey assured him.

“How?” Jack asked, desperate. “How can this be even remotely alright?!” It was clear he was not entirely talking about Quincey’s injuries. No one could really respond to that, as their solitude and lack of immediate danger brought the crux of the issue front and center in their minds.

Jonathan collapsed onto a couch and doubled over, tears springing to his eyes. Mina stepped beside him and kissed his forehead, before proceeding to search the room for a tinder box to light the place. They certainly didn’t need the light, but the thought of seeing this clearly in a dark room weighed so heavily on his mind that he desperately wanted something so he could pretend to be normal.

“I thought vampires were soulless?” Arthur asked weakly, still sounding numb. “I don’t feel… I feel different, I don’t have a heartbeat, I don’t need to breathe, I’m cold, but I’m not a monster. I don’t think I am, I don’t know!” He buried his face in his hands, voice cracking in emotion. Van Helsing moved to take him into a hug and held him close, like a parent comforting a crying child.

“You’re not. You’re not a monster, dear boy,” Van Helsing assured him, though his expression was troubled and devastated. Jonathan noticed him actually trembling. “I don’t pretend to understand why we have been blessed with our souls, but I thank God for it.”

“What now?” Jack asked, resting by Quincey’s side, his head on the couch and body kneeling on the floor.

Van Helsing glanced downward, brow furrowed, as Mina lit more candles around the room. “As much as it pains me to say it, for now, we should go along with what he wants and not put up too much resistance.”

“Listen to that bloodsucking—”

“Friend Quincey, I agree with you, but he has shown twice today he is not above hurting any of us at the slightest provocation. Indeed, I can’t tell what will and will not set him off.” He shook his head forlornly, looking close to tears. “We cannot undo what has been done, we cannot regain our humanity. However, we may still yet escape his clutches, and if we want to flee this castle, we will need our strength.”

“Strength meaning not having our ribs sound like a crackling bonfire when we breathe?” Quincey muttered.

“That would be one part of it,” he agreed. “And we have just risen from the grave, I greatly doubt any of us are at peak capacity right now.”

Mina lit the final candle, then walked over to Van Helsing, pointing at the rosary in his pocket. “Speaking of which, Professor? Is that causing you any pain?”

Van Helsing glanced down at where she was pointing, then let out a cry of surprise and pulled it out, along with his golden crucifix from an inner coat pocket. “Mein Gott! There is no pain, no revulsion!” He covered his mouth, seeming deep in thought. “Is dit het werk van God of had ik het mis? Wat heb ik nog meer gemist?”

“Professor?”

“Speaking to myself, dear boy,” Van Helsing replied, glancing at Jack. “Here, pass these around, see if you have any reaction to them!”

Jack took the offered holy symbols, then handed them off to Jonathan and Arthur respectively. It took a matter of moments before everyone had touched them, with no ill effects. Van Helsing burst out laughing with glee, taking the crucifix and kissing it with exuberation. “One ray of light in this dark hole, we have at least one advantage over this monster yet! But we can’t let him know, not until we absolutely need to use it.”

“We should hide them in here, any crosses we still have,” Mina agreed. “In the bookshelf, in our bedrooms, anywhere we can stash them that he won’t find.” She took the golden crucifix and reached back into the bookshelf, placing it in the small space between the books and the back of the bookshelf, then pressed the rosary back into Van Helsing’s hands. “Hide it somewhere where you sleep.” He nodded solemnly, placing it back in his breast pocket.

“Can we really be vampires if holy items don’t affect us?” Jack asked, feeling for his pulse fruitlessly.

With a forlorn shake of his head, Van Helsing replied, “Unfortunately, it’s beyond any doubt that is what we are. Dracula himself turned us, ensured we would be brought back instead of remaining in death’s embrace, took his time in draining our blood and making us drink his own—” The professor broke off suddenly, covering his mouth, as wild terror filled his eyes.

“Professor?!” Jack knelt by his side and Arthur looked up with concern.

“It is just… merely the memory, forgive an old man his weakness.”

“Don’t try to sell me the byproducts and call it a bull, Professor.” Quincey’s tone was exasperated in that same way one would speak to a man insisting he was fine even as he bled out. “Weakness? It’ll haunt all our nightmares for the rest of our lives, or un-lives as it were.”

Van Helsing took a deep breath in, then let it out. “Regardless, I am at a loss from here on out. Everything I know about vampires comes from research. If we are unaffected by the crucifix, if we are capable of retaining our souls, then in the best conditions we are merely missing parts of the grander portrait. In the worst, we are fundamentally mistaken about what we suppose to know about vampirism. All we can do to move forward is learn whatever we can, verify how much of what we know is correct, even mine the mind of the monster himself. But at the same time, we can’t reveal that which gives us our advantages, so we must be careful.”

Jonathan nodded in agreement, even as Van Helsing’s professed uncertainty and helplessness sat cold in his stomach. Even he didn’t know the way forward from this. They were stumbling in the dark, just trying to avoid the dark grips of despair while fighting to keep whatever remained of the light inside them.

Mina wandered over to one of the doors to the bedrooms and swung it open, glancing inside, then seemed pleasantly surprised. “If you need good news, he did not give us coffins to sleep in.”

“Is that good news or bad?” Jonathan asked. At the looks he received, he clarified, “Can vampires sleep in anything other than their coffins?”

All but Van Helsing looked at each other, fear bubbling up, while the professor frowned, deep in thought. Was this just another game? A way to force them to his will, to force them to accept their fates? Taunting them with sleep, promising rest in exchange for them begging for a coffin in which to lie? “I am… unsure,” Van Helsing finally admitted. “We know the vampire needs to return to their coffin in order to regain their strength, their power, but I must profess the sources I found were vague as to the exact nature of this. It may be simple sleep, or it may be a place to heal, or perhaps there was no ambiguity and it simply returns their spent strength and power. In any case, they were still important enough that the Count still deemed it necessary to bring fifty boxes of earth with him to England.”

“We weren’t revived in coffins, though,” Mina pointed out. “We were on stone slabs, and speaking of which, what would happen should a vampire never be buried in a coffin, or box or anything like it? Would they still need a coffin or box of earth?”

Van Helsing opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head. “I do not know, Madam Mina. I suppose we shall know when we attempt to fall asleep tonight.”

“Assuming we’re not kept up by non-supernatural means,” Arthur muttered, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t know what I’ll see when I close my eyes.”

“I’ll wake you if you start havin’ night terrors, Art,” Quincey promised.

“That brings up a good point: where is everyone sleeping?” Jonathan asked. “I assume Mina and I will share a room together, but that leaves three rooms for the four of you.”

“I’ll share a bed with Art,” Quincey volunteered, but Jack shook his head.

“You should share with myself or the professor, you need someone with medical expertise on hand in case—”

“In case what? My heart stops?” Quincey quipped, but slightly faltered under Jack’s withering gaze. “Look, Jack, if the bed’s big enough, how about the three of us share a room?”

“That still leaves Professor Van Helsing,” Arthur pointed out.

“I am fine taking one of the empty rooms for myself.”

Arthur gave him a look. “That monster threw you against a wall.”

“Truth be told, I think that was his way of getting me out of the way and keeping me there,” Van Helsing admitted. “He put a great deal of force behind the attack on friend Quincey, but I didn’t have the same force of impact when he hit me. Besides, friend John needs to keep an eye on Quincey, and however big the beds here are, I greatly doubt they’re big enough for four grown men! No, no, I’ll cry out if I need help but all I’ll likely suffer is soreness and bruises if my lack of circulation will allow them to form.”

Jack looked like he was going to object, then Van Helsing added, “The only other option is with Madam Mina and friend Jonathan, and I certainly wouldn’t want to intrude on their time together, especially not under these circumstances. We are all so close to each other anyway we will be able to be bothered by each other’s snoring, regardless of which room we’re in! Additionally, as friend Quincey did point out, there is very little risk of us dying from such injuries. The greater risk is in the injury worsening itself in the night—” He stopped, then amended, “Worsening itself while we sleep. Ah, but despite everything, it seems my body still agrees that I am still my sixty-four years in my sleep schedule, at least. I hope we are all able to get some semblance of rest.”

With that pronouncement, he opened one of the empty rooms, surveyed its interior and, finding it apparently acceptable, waved them goodnight and closed the door behind him. Jonathan decided he still liked to think of it as goodnight, despite it supposedly being dawn if the Count was to be believed. Arthur and Jack helped Quincey up and led him over to another room, door soon shutting behind them. With a sigh, Jonathan stood up and strode over to Mina and the room she was inspecting.

Inside was a rather lavish room by Jonathan’s standards, although those were perhaps a bit laxer than those of say, Arthur. Fine furniture—dressers, a vanity, trunk, end table, wardrobe—lined the walls, with an ottoman at the foot of a four-poster bed in the center of the room, curtains draped around it. The mattress was inlaid into the bed by about fifteen to twenty centimeters, but the wooden parts facing the interior were covered in plush cushioning so as to prevent discomfort. It was surprisingly large, and he doubted Quincey, Arthur, and John would be too cramped sharing a bed together if theirs was of a comparable size. He briefly wondered why the Count would supply such large beds, and thoughts of those three vampire ladies prowling in his room at night came to mind, making him shudder in fear and revulsion. The one, twisted comfort he had was that they wouldn’t be coming to feast on his nor Mina’s blood, for theirs was no longer the kind that would give them any kind of a meal.

Dawnlight streamed in through the windows, though instead of making him want to start his day, it only added to his exhaustion, as if it were the fading light of dusk instead of the coming of a new day. The pillows and blankets looked inviting beyond belief and, placing his hand in Mina’s, he stumbled over and collapsed upon the bed, his wife falling on top of him and into her husband’s loving, desperate embrace. He wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face in her shoulder and she pulled the covers over top of them.

“The monster will pay for this,” she vowed, taking his hand and kissing it. “He will not win.”

Jonathan nodded, fighting back tears. “He will not win,” he promised.

Mina twisted around so she faced him as they lay on their sides, taking his head in her hands and pressing her forehead against his as his arms pulled her even closer in response. He didn’t know if their promises meant anything, they couldn’t know. Maybe Dracula had already won for good, and they were just trying to pretend that he hadn’t taken everything just yet. As if they were in that moment of falling where you can almost believe you can fly before you hit the ground with a bone-and-organ-shattering crunch.

Even so, laying here, Mina safe in his arms, made him unable to truly believe that. He had been willing to follow her into hell, and yet somehow they were both apparently undamned. She was still fully his Mina: body, mind, and soul, and he was still fully her Jonathan.

…

Arthur stared at Quincey and Jack, now sleeping soundly. Jack had passed out soon after his head hit the pillow. Understandable, and he was glad his friend was able to enjoy the embrace of unconsciousness after everything that happened today. His scream was what finally shook something loose in him when he had awoken. All he could do until then was stare up at that cold stone ceiling, feeling nothing but numbness. He couldn’t even entertain the idea of denial: he knew what he was. But that scream made something in him whisper that he could save Jack from this fate if he couldn’t save himself. Unfortunately, neither was true.

Quincey fell asleep soon after. After all the adventures they had gone on together, all the time spent together, Arthur knew when he was downplaying his pain. Given how tight his grip was on Arthur’s hand, even now that he was fast asleep, it wasn’t hard to guess how badly he was hurting. He didn’t mind the slight discomfort: it brought Quincey some comfort and besides, it helped keep the numbness at bay.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to break down screaming and crying—he did, he very much did—but something kept him from breaking, as if he was trying to surface but a hand held him underwater, with everything muffled and blurring. Every so often he was able to take a breath of fresh air, to scream, to cry, but he was always plunged back under again. It was a struggle to feel anything, as every time he attempted to break through, utter despair flooded him until all he could do was close the floodgates again.

He didn’t know if this was natural, or if this was a sign of his newly undead state. It was as if this was all happening to another person, like he was watching from a backseat as his friends suffered, or as if this were all some horrid dream. God, for this to all be some horrid dream! For Lucy to wake him up from this nightmare with a kiss, to reassure him that it was just a figment of his imagination, that she recovered and got better. She could tease him about all the awful things he dreamed, then whisk him, Quincey, and Jack off for tea with Mina and Jonathan, while they discussed wedding and post-marital plans. For Jack to offer to invite his old professor to the wedding as Lucy would need someone to give her away and it would appear less improper coming from a kindly older gentleman than it would from two of her suitors. For Van Helsing to decide to spend more time down in England and give Lucy regular checkups while she was expecting, while he, Quincey, and Jack cared for her every wish. For everything to go smoothly and to spend many, many sleepless nights soothing their child to sleep, with golden curls and brown, blue, or gray eyes. For—

He couldn’t continue the fantasy. He couldn’t stop hearing the death screams as he staked whatever had become of Lucy, whatever had taken her place.

And are you her Arthur?

As if he somehow knew what he was thinking, Quincey’s hand squeezed Arthur’s tighter. Despite seeing Lucy as he closed his eyes, Arthur let out a sigh and let himself fall into the abyss of sleep.

…

It took quite a long time before Van Helsing was sure that the others were asleep, or at least not paying much attention to anything outside their own rooms. It was alright, though. He passed the time well enough staring at his rosary, lost in his own thoughts, with occasional prayers slipping past his lips.

He had taken off his coat when he first closed the door and removed everything from his pockets, all laid out on the bed. Vials of holy water, communion wafers, a kukri knife, a switchblade, miscellaneous documents and train tables, and a small stake about a third of a meter in length. He had to resist the urge to snap the wood in half, or seek out a fireplace and burn it to charcoal. They may still have use of it, one day, but by God did he want to destroy that damned thing!

Taking hold of his senses, he opened a dresser drawer and picked up the stake with two fingers, unable to trust himself to hold the thing proper. “Het spijt me,” he muttered, glancing at the door, before placing it in the drawer. After a second’s thought, he placed the two knives in next to it. He didn’t trust himself with them, not anymore. Besides, it was unlikely they’d be very useful against Dracula in the spur of the moment, in any case. Pushing the weapons toward the back and out of sight, he lined up the vials of holy water and wafers, keeping only one vial out. That he’d keep on his person. He placed the documents in a separate drawer, so as to prevent them from being ruined should the holy water break. He’d see if he could find a good-sized book to hide them in later.

Finally, he pushed himself up and slipped out of his room. Careful not to make any noise, he cracked open the door to Arthur, Quincey, and Jack’s room. All three were fast asleep, Jack resting against Quincey and Quincey and Arthur’s hands intertwined. Occasionally one of them would breathe, but it looked more like muscle memory, the body remembering what it was supposed to be doing rather than what it actually needed. He wondered how long it would take before that vanished.

Quincey seemed alright, at least for someone who was brutally attacked by Dracula himself. The fact that he had recovered enough to even talk, or move at all, was one of the greatest indicators he had seen with his own eyes of the vampire’s strength, resilience, and regeneration, aside from his own brush with the Count’s temper. And Quincey was only just turned. It did not give him much confidence for managing to kill off the Count in any circumstance other than catching him unconscious in his coffin. But now that they physically couldn’t kill him… that made the job that much harder. A sinister voice whispered in the back of his head that it was more than hard, it was impossible, but he chose to ignore it.

Closing the door just as quietly, he slipped over to Mina and Jonathan’s room and repeated the same actions as before. Both held each other in a tight embrace, utterly oblivious to the world. Both at peace, for however long until they woke again. He wanted to save Mina, they all did, and he couldn’t help but wonder if they failed or succeeded, and to what extent. Their efforts saved her soul, but she along with the rest of them were now cursed to an undead existence. Still, seeing the happy couple together removed any lingering regrets over the path that had led them here. All he regretted was that they could have moved faster, acted sooner. Then perhaps they would have successfully killed the monster and returned home. But perhaps it wouldn’t have mattered, or Dracula would have instead killed them all off and turned Mina without her soul, or they rid the world of the monster but died in the process. Perhaps that peaceful future was nothing more than a myth, a bedtime story, a lie to tell himself.

He closed the door and retreated back to his own room, placing his head in his hands. Thoughts flooded his mind, none of them pleasant, so he picked one train of thought at random to follow.

Would Catarina notice he wasn’t visiting? She never showed any distress whenever there were lengths between his visits, and often didn’t acknowledge his presence at all. If she did, how long would it take for her to realize he wasn’t coming back? Would one of the staff explain he had gone missing, was presumed dead? Or would she assume he had given up on her at last, after all these years? Was she capable of thinking something that abstract? Perhaps twenty years ago, before age had brought dementia to her mind along with everything else. Perhaps she wouldn’t notice, wouldn’t care, or would forget soon enough. Perhaps that would be for the best, to spend the rest of her days in complete, blissful obliviousness.

He shook his head and glanced at the door again, heart squeezing with fear. There was nothing more he could do for her, the only people he could take care of were sleeping in the next rooms. Truly, they were all so brave, especially considering the circumstances. He bit his hand, fangs sinking into the knuckle of his index finger as he fought back tears. Dracula was not allowed to take that lingering spark of life. He would not allow it.

[let-them-read-fics]

Bite

Pairing: Vamp!Lisa x Human!Fem!Reader

AU: Vampire

Word Count: ~ 5,564

Warnings / Misc. -- Mentions of Blood

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hey everyone! I'm alive! School has kept me crazy busy and I've had my hands full with other things as well, but I finished writing this one and I wanted to share with you lovely peeps. To everyone who stopped by to check in, and to those of you who’ve been patiently waiting, thank you endlessly. I love having you as my readers 💜

PS ~ I hope this isn't too bad for my first one shot in forever! Also, happy Lisa era. I’m so proud of our girl!

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Saturday, October 31st

You look like an idiot. 

The nurse uniform you have on is obnoxiously cliché; short and tattered in various places to really sell the "sexy" aspect of it, little is left to the imagination. Fake blood stains dot the flimsy material in random patterns and mat some strands of the tacky blonde wig atop your head, making you look like something out of a B-movie at best. 

A bonafide, absolute idiot. 

When you express that sentiment to your best friend, she just rolls her eyes and holds out one last costume for you to try on. She had a few lined up in case you didn't like her other options, and clearly that's come in handy; you've already worked through the previous picks, so she crosses her fingers as your eyes skim over this one.

"Humor me, will you?" She asks, hoping that you'll give in and at least check this last one out. 

"Fine, but this is your last chance. It had better be good." You raise a pointed finger at her in warning. 

"I have a good feeling about this one," she says, smiling as you take the bag from her and slip into the dressing room one final time. 

Her phone chimes soon after, and she's quick to retrieve it from her pocket.

Willow: Are you guys almost here?? Jackson's been asking about you.

Your best friend bites her lip at that, nervously nibbling on it as she rereads the message to make sure she didn't imagine the last part. She's liked Jackson since middle school, and he'll be swinging by the party that you've all been invited to; that's one of the main reasons she begged you to come with her tonight. 

Y/BFFs/N: Still getting ready. We'll be there ASAP tho!

Willow: Alright, we'll see you soon. Don't take all night, or else👩🤛

Y/BFFs/N: Yah, cut the violence!

The sound of your best friend's soft giggling fills the air just as you manage to fasten the costume's last zipper and pull its hood over your head.

Surprise etches its way into your features as you do a spin, taking in the sight of yourself through the full length mirror of the dressing room. The outfit's red and black color schemes complement each other beautifully, giving you a powerful and sensual appeal that the other costumes didn't even stand a chance of doing. You look alluring in every sense of the word. 

"Holy shit," your best friend says when you emerge, striking a pose. "You look hot!" She squeals, clapping a few times in quick succession. 

There's no way you think this one looks bad. 

"I think Wanda would be proud," you grin, tilting your head up and wrapping the cape around your neck. 

"One hundred percent," Y/BFFs/N nods adamantly, in total agreement. The Scarlet Witch getup really compliments your features. 

"Now," she starts, changing topics as she looks in the reflection of her phone's dark screen to adjust some of her hair that's gone astray. "Let's pay and then go. Willow's looking for us, and my future man's wondering where I am, too." 

"Hell yeah!" You chuckle, patting her on the back. "I'll help you finally land him so you can stop pining."

You watch as she takes a moment to decide between coming up with a decent rebuttal to defend herself or agreeing with you, and you smile when she goes for the latter. 

"I'd accept nothing less," she says, holding her head high like a princess. "You are my wingwoman, after all." 

"And the best one in town," you add, tugging her towards the register. She reaches into her purse and pulls out the money to pay before politely handing it to the cashier. 

The teenage boy takes it with a small smile, though the action looks a little comical as his upper lip gets caught on the cheap, plastic fangs he's sporting. His knock-off version of Dracula is definitely…. something… and you can tell that his managers forced him to wear it for the holiday. 

"Come back and s-shhee us," he says, handing your change back. Your best friend takes it, failing to contain her laughter at his messy speech. He blushes crimson, likely cursing the plastic teeth for making him look a fool. 

"We surely will," you respond, giving him a comforting smile to keep his embarrassment at bay. He nods gratefully, and you're quickly pulled out of the store by your best friend. 

"Happy Halloween!" You shout over your shoulder, accompanied by the chime of the bell over the door. 

"You too," he calls back, letting out a soft sigh. 

---

20 Minutes Later -- The Party

Upon rounding the front of your car and stepping up onto the sidewalk outside of Willow's house, your attention is immediately caught by the numerous decorations that she put up last week. 

"Huh," you mumble, gazing up at the skeleton that towers above you, standing 12 feet tall. "I think it's safe to say that this is her favorite holiday…" 

"What makes you think that?" Your best friend plays, feigning ignorance as she pops up from behind a life-sized, animatronic Jason Voorhees. 

"I don't know," you tut, admiring Willow's hard work a little longer. "Just a feeling." 

Y/BFFs/N giggles in her unique way, making you smile at the sound as the two of you make your way up the path towards the house. You gaze down at your feet, careful to step on the stones of the walkway and avoid the motion-activated hands that scramble out of the weeds to grab unsuspecting guests. 

Having known Willow your entire childhood, you've grown used to her ways. 

*knock knock*

A strong, iconic synth bassline sounds off from inside, filling the otherwise quiet night around you with its catchy beat as you wait to be let in. Its sound is well known, and you almost instantly recognize it as "Sweet Dreams" by the Eurythmics.

A few seconds later, you hear clambering from inside, followed by concerning groans and shouted apologies. 

Y/BFFs/N arches a skeptical brow at you, perfectly mirroring your thoughts.

Directly after, the door swings open in a flash, and you're nearly tackled by a whizz of curly hair. 

"There you guys are!" Willow shrieks, pulling the two of you close as she nuzzles her face against your cheeks. 

"Yep, here we are," you struggle out, nearly being strangled in her tight grip. She responds by squeezing you even tighter, blinded by her joy at seeing you again. 

After all, it's been a while since all three of you have had the opportunity to spend the night partying together like this. 

"Can't… breathe," Y/BFFs/N squeaks, successfully getting Willow to release you. 

"Sorry," she apologizes, stepping back. "I'm just so happy you're here." 

The freckles that spread across the bridge of her nose look especially adorable with the blush she's sporting, and her shy grin makes you forget about the near-fatality you just encountered moments before. 

"We're happy to be here," you reassure her, returning her smile. 

Your best friend agrees from beside you, nodding her head with a happy look of her own. "Believe it or not, we've missed your weirdness." She adds, cocking her head to the side. 

Willow giggles again, and her eyes crinkle up into those half crescents that could surely melt even the iciest of hearts. She's practically sunshine in human form, and you have to resist the urge to shield your eyes. 

"Yo, Willow! Who's at the door?" 

Jackson.

You feel your best friend tense beside you, and you subtly pat her leg to calm her down. 

Willow falls silent, though her lips go through the beginning stages of answering him; they open and purse, but she quickly halts her reply and shuts her mouth. She knows of Y/BFFs/N's crush on him, and she doesn't want to say the wrong thing. 

Plus, if the lovesick girl wants to run and hide in the bushes, Willow's silence could buy her some time to slip away. 

But alas, she doesn't. 

Jackson appears in the doorway a mere 5 seconds after asking his question with a beer clutched in his hand. He moves to lean against the wooden frame as his pearly smile beams at you, and Y/BFFs/N audibly swallows at the sight. 

For someone who's usually so confident, she can really be shy sometimes. 

"Lovely to see you, ladies," he greets, putting his free hand in front of him as he bows. His accent is modeled after that of Jack Sparrow, as is his surprisingly well designed costume.

You nod back at him. "Hey, Jackson. Long time no see." 

You elbow your best friend when she remains silent for a beat too long, and the action snaps her back to reality. 

"Yeah, hey Jackson." Her voice is quiet -- she doesn't trust it to refrain from cracking.

He smiles, not failing to notice the nervous aura that's quickly taken over the girl beside you. Her eyes nearly pop out of her head when he gives her a curious once-over, and you take that as your cue to save her from the impending embarrassment that's lurking just around the corner. 

"Alright, guys!" You clap, stepping forward. "Let's get to partying." 

Her shoulders relax, and you feel her slip her hand into yours as you enter the house, squeezing twice as a silent thank you. 

15 Minutes Later

Willow stands beside you in the kitchen, mixing a few things together in one of the millions of red solo cups that she bought for tonight. You sneak a peek over her shoulder at the concoction, seeing its light blue color turn purple-ish as she adds a new liquor into the equation. 

In comparison to typical house parties, this one is relatively small; most of the rooms are filled with people, but it's a comfortable amount. Maneuvering around the place is fairly easy, which is always a plus when you're coexisting with sweaty, drunk people. 

"Willow, love, why did you buy so many cups?" You ask, toying with the ripped plastic packaging of one of the stacks. 

"You know I like to be prepared," she laughs, brushing off her major miscalculation. "Plus I can just use the rest of them at my next party." 

You nod, knowing she's right. "Are you having another soon?" 

"I think so. Jiu and her crew are coming back in a couple weeks, so I thought I'd surprise them with one." 

You scoff, humor laced in the sound. "What, they didn't get enough partying done at their university already?" 

Willow turns around, grinning at you as she hands you your drink. "Evidently campus police keep a close eye on them. Siyeon whined about that a lot when she called me." 

"Sounds like her," you chuckle into your cup as you take a sip. 

PFFT

"Eww, Willow! What did you put in this?!" 

Your spit take didn't land on anyone, thankfully, but it did capture the attention of some people nearby. You wave a hand at them as a silent apology, and they go back to their previous tasks. 

The curly headed prankster covers her mouth, though the action does a terrible job of quieting her maniacal laughter. 

"You're lucky Y/BFFs/N isn't over here," you say, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. "She'd avenge me." 

Willow uses a napkin to dab the tears of laughter from her eyes. "Why else do you think I waited until she was busy with Jackson?" She asks, motioning to her lounge room across the foyer. 

You look inside, spotting Y/BFFs/N holding a pool cue in her hand as Jackson sinks another shot into one of the corner pockets. 

The sight reminds you of the pep talk and 2 shots of liquid courage you gave her earlier, and how she disappeared with the promise to make a move and actually talk to him. Now, she looks completely absorbed in whatever banter they're sharing, and although your violated taste buds still ache from the sickly-sweet mixture that Willow made, you wouldn't want her to be anywhere else. 

You can get your own revenge. 

Sneaking a glance around the kitchen, you search for something to help with your retaliation. A small package of streamers lays abandoned on the island, forgotten to be put up earlier, and you slyly grin. Their ribbons sparkle with glitter, shimmering as the multicolored party lights stream in from the living room and land on them. 

It's as if the universe is putting a spotlight on them, just for you. 

After side eyeing Willow one final time to ensure that she isn't catching onto your plan, you act quickly. She stands beside the counter, right where you left her, and you dart to the island to grab the streamers. Your fingertips soon gain purchase on the packaging, and you tear it open in one swift motion. 

Her gaze locks onto yours just as you near her, but it's far too late for her to get away. 

"Take this!" You declare, upending the baggie atop her head. She shrieks as they cascade down her body, getting caught in the creases and wrinkles of her costume as they go. A small wave of glitter tumbles out of the bag as well, coating her hair and clothes. 

Boy, that'll be fun to try and get out later. 

Her head slowly raises once you finish your assault and place the baggie on the countertop beside you, but the look in her eye is unlike anything you've ever seen. 

"You're dead," she warns. Just as the smile drops from your face, an even larger, more sinister one begins forming on hers. 

The floor creaks beneath your feet slightly as you take a step back, and you know you have to high tail it out of there if you want to evade her. 

"Catch me if you can!" You shout, springing into action. You turn around and dart out of the room, gliding past numerous partygoers in the hall. 

Willow's choice of footwear works in your favor, you soon realize; the sharp rapping sound of her heels pierces the air behind you, serving as a tell of how much distance is between you.

Her unstable platforms buy you a little time, and you thank the universe as you rush through the living room and back towards the foyer. You plan to cut across it and hide out in one of the bathrooms until she drops her plan for revenge. 

A grin pulls at your cheeks as you skid into one of the walls, looking like a character from Scooby-Doo as you will your feet to work correctly again and get you to safety. Willow laughs behind you, joining in on the fun. 

"Perfect," you mutter under your breath, spotting a clear path through the foyer. It leads under the stairs, and you can see the open door of the bathroom from where you are. 

Your feet take you past a handful of drunk people, bobbing and weaving through them with ease, before you're racing towards the restroom to take cover. 

Before you can make it there, though, you collide with someone rather abruptly as they step straight into your path. 

Your eyes shut tightly as you brace yourself for impact with the ground, but it never comes. The person reaches out and catches you before you can hit the floor, and a soft apology slips past their lips as they scoop you up. 

Upon hearing that uniquely feminine voice speak its regret again, you peek your eyes open. What you see nearly makes the woman's effort to keep you upright moot; she's so gorgeous that your legs almost give out from underneath you. 

Dirty blonde locks cascade over her shoulders in soft waves, half-mussed, half-pristine from your run-in. Her doe eyes are a velvety chocolate color, and you find yourself getting lost in them. Flickers of red show in them, illuminating almost rhythmically the longer she admires you. 

Are those contacts? You ask yourself. They have to be. 

She seems to be just as affected by your presence as you are of hers. 

"Y/N, I'm coming to get you!" 

Willow does her best to sound like a villain from a 90s horror film as she clambers her way closer to you, bumping into a few people on the way. You're brought out of your stupor by her rapidly approaching footsteps, and you take a step away from the woman. Her hands fall from your waist, where they had previously been resting. 

Stealing a quick look at the bathroom, you feel your stomach turn.

Damnit. Someone's in there now. 

Screw this sexy stranger for distracting you. Now you'll have to deal with Willow's wrath. 

"What's wrong?" 

There's that voice again. 

Part of you wants to brush it off and slip away quietly, but an even bigger part of you is determined to stay where you are and tell her. Something about her pulls you in, and you're having a hard time denying it. 

"I need to hide. I glitter-fied my friend and now she's coming after me." 

The woman's plump lips pull back in a humored smile, and she nods as a chuckle leaves her. "Right," she says, like that's a common occurrence. "I can help, if you'd like." 

"How?" You ask, your brows momentarily knitting together in confusion. When she unties and opens the black cloak that's wrapped around her body, your breath catches. 

"You in?" She asks, side eyeing the foyer as Willow nearly careens into the Egyptian vase that her mother bought her last year for Christmas. 

You take a deep breath and hold your hand out to her just as Willow rounds the corner, and she swiftly pulls you in close before you can be spotted. She winds the cloak around both of your bodies, concealing your faces as the fur-lined hood falls atop your heads. 

Unconsciously, you wrap your arms around her waist and pull her flush up against you to further ensure your safety. She quietly grunts when she stumbles over her own feet, falling into you a little. 

"Sorry," she whispers, though her third apology of the night is unnecessary. You almost want to thank her for what happened.

Especially when her warm breath fans across your right cheek, where her head is angled. 

Every breath you take pushes you closer to each other, and the satin shirt she's wearing slides against your heated skin. She swallows thickly as one of your hands falls to the small of her back, testing the waters. 

When she shifts a little to encourage you, you're acutely aware of the thigh that's worked its way between your legs. 

When did that happen? 

You bite back a sigh as she just smirks, quietly shushing you. 

Willow thunders by, shouting your name and threatening to throw you into the pool when she tracks you down. You want to laugh at that, but you'd honestly welcome it right now. Some cold water would surely bring you to your senses after being led astray by this goddess in front of you. 

Her footsteps grow distant as she makes her way outside, still searching.

The two of you remain as you are for a couple more minutes until you're certain that the coast is clear, and then you part. When she lowers the cloak, you look away; a deep blush has worked its way up your neck and across your cheeks, and letting her see it would surely make you die of embarrassment. 

She keeps her eyes on you as she reties the cover around herself, attempting to get a read on you. The bashful aura that's befallen you is cute, no doubt, but she can sense your arousal. She can smell it on you, and the scent is beginning to drive her crazy. 

You fiddle with the sleeves of your costume, readjusting them nervously.

"So, um… thanks," you say, sneaking a glance up at her. 

The red hues in her eyes are even more pronounced now, and the sight makes you press further into the wall behind you -- the one that you were previously pushed up against. 

"No problem," she smiles, showing off her pearly white teeth. Two of them catch your attention; a set of fangs now shine, looking alluring and threatening all at the same time. 

There's only one issue: you're certain that they weren't there when you first bumped into her. When did she put them in? And why do they look so real?

The feeling of her hand landing on your forearm pulls you away from the millions of questions that're firing off in your head right now. 

"May I ask your name?" She politely requests, dipping her head down sweetly. 

"Y/N," you breathe out, quickly realizing that you'd do just about anything she asked you to. 

"Y/N." She repeats, allowing the letters to blend in her mouth as they roll off her tongue. She looks satisfied for some reason as she says it again, trying it out. 

"I'm Lisa." 

"It's nice to officially meet you," you smile, reaching a hand out. Her touch is gentle but firm as she takes it, shaking it with ease. 

"Likewise, beautiful." 

The grin on your face only widens at the name, and you pull your hand away out of fear of what she might do next. She's already putting you under her spell, and you're sure that another touch would have you fully entranced. 

She studies you with pursed lips for a moment, clearly debating on something. Her eyes flicker over the dips and curves of your body as a smirk grows on her lips. 

"What are you thinking?" You question, curious but teasing. 

"That I'd love to have your body on mine again." 

She's bold, and she says it like the fact it is. No shame, no bashfulness. Just true, honest desire. 

You bite the inside of your cheek at her bravery, silently thanking the universe for it. The likelihood of you gaining the courage to make a move is slim to none even in the best cases, and this was no exception. She already has your heart skipping beats and you've only known her a few minutes. 

"How about a dance?" She suggests, quirking a brow. The look on her face disarms your defenses, and you take a deep breath before agreeing to your demise. 

"That sounds wonderful." 

She dips her head again, hiding her face away momentarily, and you think it's the cutest thing ever. 

She's shy all of a sudden as her cool demeanor slips up a bit, and that never happens. You might just be her downfall, too.

She holds an elbow out and steps forward, allowing you to link your arm with hers and cuddle in close. 

Her eyes scan across the living room as she studies it, but she's unimpressed. 

Sweaty, winding bodies thrash around to some upbeat pop song that's been overplayed on every radio station in town for weeks now, and the idea of taking you there puts her off. 

When a drunk boy comes into view with a dildo strapped to his forehead, her mind is officially made up. 

"Let's go outside," she says, leading you through the patio doors. 

A quaint gazebo sits on one side of the yard, and the dance floor that Willow's family installed a couple years ago occupies the other. Both are decorated with string lights in combinations of gold, purple, black, and orange. Other ornaments adorn the surfaces as well, and you smile when you spot a comically large spider sat atop the gazebo's roof. 

"Where would you like to go?" Lisa asks, keeping her voice low. It's calm and deep, running a chill through you. 

Softer music plays out here, offering a totally different vibe than inside. Some couples -- many of them introverted, assumably -- sway on the dancefloor as the DJ that Willow hired takes a sip of her drink on the raised stage. She adjusts a few switches slowly, not rushing for a second.

"Let's try the gazebo," you decide, glancing over your shoulder at Lisa. She's looking away, but you don't think anything of it as the two of you fall in step with one another on your way over. 

Shit, Lisa thinks to herself. 

Her plans to come to this party, feed, and make a quick getaway are totally derailed. She'd hoped to find a victim that she was attracted to but didn't like, if that even makes sense, and feed like the animal she is. Then she would leave them like all the rest, drained but still alive, and slip away. 

But now she's met you, and any desire for those plans have been thrown out the window. 

You interest her, and that doesn't happen often. She hasn't met someone who's been capable of doing that in years, and she's intrigued. Something about you just pulls her in, inexplicably, and she knows her feelings would be glaringly obvious if you saw her face right now. 

"Woah, look at this," you sigh, stepping out of her hold to check the place out. A bench runs the perimeter of the gazebo, only stopping at the doorway, and the lights look even prettier from inside. They shimmer, looking like star showers as their strings hang down in the windowless openings of the building. 

Lisa quickly learns that she loves seeing you like this. Your eyes are alight, and your sweet smile of wonder warms her heart. Her hands slip into her pockets as she eventually manages to take her eyes off you, following your lead as she admires the decorations. 

She does a twirl, looking around. 

"It's gorgeous." 

"I know, right? This is totally up Willow's alley," you say, grinning at the mental image that you can conjure up of her giddily spiffing the scene up. 

"I'll have to thank her for making it look so special, then," Lisa says, smiling. The place really makes you feel like you're in your own little world; everything about it is just right. The ambience, the decor, the company… it’s perfect, and Lisa's content with how the evening is playing out. 

Her fingers skate down your arm as she nears you, trekking their way down to your palm. She takes your hand and spins you, watching with admiration as your hair flows in the breeze. Now facing her, you thread your fingers together around the back of her neck as she encircles your waist with her arms. 

"Why have I never seen you around?" You ask sincerely, looking up at her. 

She hesitates briefly. "My university is a few towns over. I just come here to visit my family every few months." 

Not a total lie, she thinks to herself. 

"And stop by terrible parties like this, of course." You add, smirking. 

She shakes her head at that. "No, I can't say I do. I just decided to check this one out on my way to my friend's house." She explains. 

Underneath your cloak, her hands find their way to the small of your back. One stays put while the other dips a little lower, testing the waters. 

"And besides," she starts again, feeling you pull her closer. "Meeting you here automatically makes this an awesome party. Not terrible."

"Cheeeesy!" You scrunch your face up and groan, making her laugh. 

"Maybe, but it's the truth." 

"Sure, Lisa." 

She shakes her head and you laugh lightly together, still swaying about. You hold her close enough to rest your head on her shoulder, and the pads of your thumbs rub small circles on the sensitive skin of her neck. She hums at the feeling, and you take note of the way she relaxes in your arms. 

The night breeze appears again, performing a flowing dance of its own as it lulls past you in waves. A slight chill resides in it, mixed with a generous amount of the day's sweet, fading heat, and you're at peace. 

The slow song that had been playing across the yard ends delicately, parting with some melodic feature that resembles a warm embrace, and it blends seamlessly into the next song. 

Turning Page, you recognize it as.  

Huh, how ironic. One of your favorites. 

Lisa's lips brush against your cheek as she turns her head slightly, whispering, "I like this one, too." 

How did she know? You ask yourself. You hadn't said it out loud… 

Maybe she's just a good guesser. Yeah, that's gotta be it. 

You feel yourself melt as she begins singing the words to you. It's hushed and sentimental -- meant only for your ears to hear, and that makes it even more special to you. 

"If I had only felt the warmth within your touch"

She croons, pressing her cheek against your warm skin. You blush, catching yourself when you remember what the next line of the song is. 

"If I had only seen how you smile when you blush" 

She brings a hand up to cup your cheek in her palm, and her other arm remains around you, holding you tenderly. 

"Or how you curl your lip when you concentrate enough"

Now, her thumb runs across your bottom lip. You look into her eyes and find them an even deeper shade of red than they had been before, but it doesn't frighten you for some reason. She glances down at your mouth again, fighting her impatience as she waits for permission from you. 

"I would have known what I was living for all along"

You nod and lace your fingers in her locks, and she doesn't waste another second. 

She leans in, humming against your lips when they meet hers for the first time. Her lipgloss spreads across them upon contact, smudging its precise application, but she doesn't seem to care in the slightest. She draws you in closer, and you bring both of your hands around to cup her face as you deepen the kiss. 

Her mouth is welcoming against yours, and it moves languidly as you get adjusted to one another. Every move makes you feel dizzier than the one before it, and swarms of butterflies take flight in your stomach with no signs of stopping. 

She nips at your bottom lip as her hands dip far lower than before, now kneading your ass as your kisses continue to work her up. 

"Fuck," you curse, breaking away from her lips to catch your breath. She's stolen it all from you, and yet she's still not ready to give you a rest; her mouth drops to your jaw, embracing your skin there before moving down to your neck. 

She doesn't realize how dangerous the game she's playing truly is until it's almost too late. 

Her lips press to the area just above your pulsepoint, where she's learned over the years that blood pumps the hardest and tastes the sweetest. She draws it into her mouth, swirling her tongue over the area as her ears perk up at the breathless sound of your moans. They spur her on, and she nips at the skin, surely leaving a hickey. 

Her senses become even more clouded when you say her name, the title caught somewhere between a whine and command, and she feels the strong impulse to claim you. The sensation is overwhelming, and she knows you can feel it too. 

Your hands tug on the collar of her shirt as she lets her fangs fully extend, no longer suppressing them. They rake across your pulsepoint, making you shiver against her. 

"Please…" 

That's all you manage to get out before they pierce your skin, eliciting a whimper from you. Blood fills her mouth instantly, sliding across her taste buds in velvety waves and calming her constant craving. Your hands tighten in her hair, and the delicious twinge of pain that it provides only encourages her more. 

Your blood is different than anything she's ever tasted; it's richer -- sweeter. A throaty groan leaves her as she savors it, and you shut your eyes in pleasure. It's addicting, but she knows she has to stop herself before she hurts you. If she continues like this much longer, she won't have the willpower to let go. 

She retracts her fangs as she licks your taste from them, and then you feel her warm tongue clean the wound she made. It stings a bit, but in all the right ways.

When she pulls back to look at you, she finds your eyes half-lidded and a pleased smile on your face. It nearly kills her, then and there. 

Her gaze flickers back to your neck to admire the hickie she made earlier, but what she sees surprises her. Below it is a darker, more prominent marking that she's only seen other vampires leave behind before. 

Definitely not a hickie.

Your brows furrow as you look at her neck as well, noticing a faint outline of something growing darker by the second. Blinking a few times to ensure that you aren't hallucinating, you find that it's really there. 

"Lisa, what's on your neck?" You ask. 

"A soulmate mark." She responds, feeling a sense of belonging settle over her as she looks at you again. You just confirmed her suspicions by asking that.

"Same as yours," she smiles.

[candlelight27]

Hello! I saw your spooktober post . And wanted to request . Can you write about hawks X reader in vampire au please 🥺

I really wanna see it happen that the reader is a dracula and hawks accidentally enters there territory while hunting and there servents bring him to the readers place for the crime . Hawks is scared but the reader is not the dark , blood manic that the town think she is but a brave , count/ countess that is just very politely and business smart he learns more things about her so on.

I really wish to see this idea in reality please I really request you to do it but if you don't want to no pressure . Thank you ❤️

Hello there! Thank you for being the only request for Halloween. Sorry it took so long :') Life is hard sometimes. Plus, I wanted to take my time to make it as good as I could. Hope you enjoy it!

INTO THE LION'S DEN

Hawks/Keigo Takami x Vampire!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Blood, gorey imaginery and discussion of death, hunting.

2709 words.

Keigo Takami was a simple man who lived a simple life.

He hunted for a living. After having his own share of game, enough stored for the cold, long winter months, he'd sell the rest in the nearby village. He was a well-known character in the region, loved by many because of his good heart and his great skill with the rifle - which has also earned him his nickname, Hawks.

He was smart, too, and did what he could to live peacefully. Keigo had left behind a past filled with highs and lows back in the city, where he was wanted and prosecuted. But now, miles and miles away, he regained his anonymity and made a good use of it.

He didn't mess with things he didn't want in his life. For example, even though the daughter of one of the most important men around was such a beautiful sight who flirted with him at any given opportunity, he couldn't even entertain the idea of a roll in the hay with her. Because that meant trouble. When an opulent businessman wanted to commission him an almost impossible job, he rejected the offer despite the sum of money. He didn't want risks. Why would he want mess with something that could get him killed?

Keigo wasn't a believer, either. He was sceptical of most things related to higher beings. It didn't mean that he neglected his religious duties - mainly because, that way, nobody would bother him more than necessary. A couple of donations to church and the nuns who took care of the local orphans, and he'd be regarded as a hero. He was the radical opposite of the pious, superstitious people that surrounded him.

That scepticism, in the end, was what led him to that whole mess.

The whole village was terrified of you, the countess in charge of the region, with a castle ever present in the distant horizon. Nobody would put a foot over the land you owned. Of course, Keigo wouldn't just enter the property of nobility – since he could face serious charges made by a biased justice – but he wouldn't look the way leading to your castle with pure terror, unlike most commoners he had seen. Just the pronunciation of your name sent chills to those poor souls' spines.

He might have had to pay more attention to those old wives' tales – he had been too occupied disregarding the poor pieces of advice instead of paying attention of the exact limits between the common land and yours.

There was a shortage of preys and the unforgiving winter was slowly creeping upon him. That was the reason behind his carelessness. He’d been roaming the forest for hours, and he was going to return home empty-handed. He decided to push his luck and explore the unfamiliar territory. According to his calculations, he was still at a decent distance from your borders. Keigo didn’t bother to double-check, either.

At last, just before he was about to give up, a big buck rose before him. The sun was almost setting, but he was urged by necessity.

Keigo followed his victim until it finally succumbed to his iron bullets.

When he became aware of his acts yet again, he cursed himself. The sky was already dark, and he had yet to carry his new source of income back home. The blond man scratched his head as he was tracing a plan. He was armed, so even in the slightest chance he’d encounter any assailants in the middle of the night, he would come out of the situation untouched. Still, it would be a tiring and tedious process, aggravated by the lack of light.

Just as he was thinking, the wooden wheels of a cart startled him. Soon, the vehicle appeared before his eyes, horses neighing at him as they stepped out of the shadows.

“Stop there, hunter”, said the driver, a tall man with jet-black hair. He was covered in scars. Keigo had never seen him before, but he supposed someone like him wouldn’t want to meet the superstitious peasants that would shun him. So, chances were he wasn’t fond of visiting the square of the village.

“What can I help you with?”, Keigo answered with a pleasant voice. He had a bad feeling about the stranger.

“You surely know it’s forbidden to hunt in the countess’ region.” The dark-haired man smirked.

Keigo didn’t let his demeanour falter, even though his heart sank. He couldn’t be in trouble again, not in his new life. Yet he knew that if he showed weakness, he’d lose the game. So, he tried to charm his way out this circumstance, as he always did.

“Unfortunately, I didn’t realise I was in her land”, he started. His tone was confident. “I was disoriented for a bit, due to the darkness, and I must have diverted from my path.”

The dark-haired man huffed.

“I understand your situation… but an offense is an offense”, he replied resoundingly. It might have sounded like he had any kind of compassion, but the truth is he was enjoying every second. “You’ll have to come with me so the countess can decide what to do with you.”

“I could leave the buck here, and just go-”

“I’m sorry”, the stranger interrupted him, “but I must fulfil my duty as the countess’ right-hand man.” Keigo’s interlocutor smiled. “I can’t make exceptions.”

The hunter considered using his rifle. Maybe he could threaten the cocky man and just disappear. Of, if he had to take more drastic measures… No. He didn’t want to repeat the past. He knew that nobility always had their ways to fuck with people’s life. It might even cost him a death sentence in the long run. And he just wanted a simple life, not being a runaway for the rest of his existence once again.

“Fine”, Keigo sighed. “But she must be asleep by now”, he tried one last time. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to disturb her for such a small occurrence.”

“By no means. I can guarantee you she’s still awake”, he laughed. The man then motioned Keigo to hop onto the cart, in the space next to him.

He did so, and the silent way to the eerie, stone building where you lived started. At least he didn’t have to carry fetters. It was a rocky road, and the other man insisted they’d carry the dead animal in the back. The blanket it was covered with was dripping with blood by the time they reached the castle.

The driver left the cart unattended in the stable and accompanied Keigo into the interior of the huge structure.

They went in through an entrance made for servants. Keigo was puzzled at the informality in everything. Where they really going to see you? Once inside, he could see the furniture was worn and that everything seemed like it had seen better days. Another worrying fact was that everything was deserted, except for the two of them. The hunter hugged his rifle closer to his chest, as if it would do anything to help him. He wondered if your ancestors had used all the money and left you a bankrupt title. Or maybe you didn’t even exist, and the man besides Keigo was just nuts.

“You can wait for the countess in here”, the dark-haired driver said. It was a dining room with a huge table in the middle, topped with a coffered ceiling of black wood. There were succulent dishes on the table – Keigo couldn’t take his eyes off the roasted chicken – but they looked cold, as if served hours ago. “You can help yourself. Oh, and I advise you to put that thing down,” he added, signalling the weapon.

With that, the man disappeared, leaving the confused hunter standing alone.

Keigo hadn’t eaten a generous meal in a long time, so he followed the instructions he was given. He left his rifle in a corner he could easily access. Then, he started eating. After all, if he was going to die or be incarcerated, better be with a stomach full, right?

He jumped when your figure, cladded in red and black, appeared through the door about ten minutes after. He didn’t hear the footsteps – and he blamed that he was focusing on the food rather than his surroundings.

As he calmed down and zeroed in your features, he could see that you were indeed beautiful. It seemed you had a magical aura that was designed with the sole propose to attract Keigo. You were imposing, but your sensual, sweet smiled calmed him down. He put the plate he had away and made a little bow, unsure of how to proceed. How could anyone run around describing you as a vile, blood-drinking monster?

“I hope Dabi didn’t give you much trouble,” you began, your eyes fixed on him. You were standing at a prudent distance.

“The driver?”, Keigo asked after gulping what he was devouring. He left everything on the table. “He was… welcoming, my Lady.”

“Don’t lie. I know he’s rude”, you laughed. Such a godly sound. “What’s your name? I’m assuming you already know who I am, as Dabi must have mentioned me in his own introduction.”

“My name’s Keigo, and I’m well aware of your identity.”

“Relax. I’m not going to harm you,” you giggle at his stiffness.

“I was told you were going to punish me”, he confessed. It looked like you liked him, at least enough to be friendly. Maybe this was going to be easier. He could just be relatively honest and play dumb.

“Well, that wasn’t entirely a lie, but you have nothing to fear”, you said as you took a seat right beside Keigo. He could smell the expensive perfumes you were wearing. Perhaps that’s where you spent your fortune. “You see, hunting is forbidden in the forests I own. But I grant permits from time to time to do so.”

“I see. You are suggesting I get one?”, he wonders what you’re trying to do.

“No. It’s late. And I can’t let you go just like this, or people will think I’m soft and disobey my law”, she sighed. “So, you’ll have to pay a fine.” You pronounced a high number and his eyes went wide.

“I must beg for forgiveness, for I have not such a quantity.”

“You can pay it little by little. I’m in no rush”, you offered.

“But… It would take a hundred years at least.”

“I’ve got time”, you laughed out loud. The implication of your joke creeped him. “Of course, there can be other option...” Your smile hadn’t changed, but Keigo was starting to realise it wasn’t a sweet, warm smile. It was a cold, scheming one. A smile that proved him you had him right where you wanted from the beginning. “Oh, I have an offer you won’t be able to refuse.”

“I suppose that if I refuse, I’ll be handed to justice…”, Keigo tried to figure out his options.

You blink.

“Justice? Like, sending you off to the king?”, you laugh once more. “Oh, my. You really aren’t like those peasants who fear looking my way, in case I feel like drinking their blood in my dungeons!”

“I have a much more realist approach to this world”, Keigo sighed. Your eyes glinted with amusement. He didn’t like that. But still, he couldn’t bring himself to be repulsed by you. Quite on the contrary.

“Perfect!”, you clapped your hands. “You seem like a smart man, so I’m not going to lie to you. I’m pretty glad you need an alternative offer, because I was looking for someone to hire. And you seem perfect for the job.” Your pupils were examining him methodically.

“And what’s that job?”

“What’s my reputation out there, Keigo?”, you asked seriously.

“They fear you.” He replies earnestly, for you already know the answers and he didn’t have the guts to lie. “They think you’re a vile creature that drinks blood and feast on human flesh”, he huffed at the ridiculous thought.

“And you, of course, refuse to believe that.”

“I come from the capital.” He cursed himself again. What was wrong with him today? He wasn’t feeling himself, letting out so much information. Why was he careless? “Of course, those are old tales. At first, I thought you were just cruel applying the royal law, but then, I came to understand they’re afraid because they’ve never seen you. Easy to make up tales about things you ignore.”

“I see, I see. Well, they wouldn’t believe you, anyways, as you are a foreigner”, you explained. “The tales come from an older time you haven’t experienced. I doubt they have experienced that time either, but logic is not their strongest point. And there’s where you come to play!”

He frowned.

“Me?”

“Yes. I need an intermediary. I’ll do the thinking, you’ll just follow my instructions and show your charming façade. In exchange, you’ll have all the money you want – and, of course, you’ll be able to do as you please in my lands. I can even arrange a room in my castle for you.”

“Why me?”

“You’ve lived here for some years already. They trust you, and I have the things they need to survive. They’re just stubborn, as if my products were cursed! Even the nobility surrounding us think so. So, if it’s you who shows up on their doorstep, I’m sure they’ll welcome with open arms whatever you’re bringing.”

“I…”

“What if you go to sleep, and then you give me your answer tomorrow?”, you smile.

“…That’s a great idea, my Lady.”

Keigo felt that he was in a dream. And when you’re dreaming – everyone knows this – you don’t always make the best decisions. He knew that he was going to accept the deal. It was a good opportunity to restore his old life, to have your protection and stop living poorly. Besides, you were a fascinating creature. You had him wrapped around your finger, and you’ve barely conversed with him. But he wanted more. He needed to know more about you to satiate that mysterious hunger in the pit of his stomach.

Where was that caution that made him seek a simple life? Had you hypnotised him? he thought so, yet he didn’t find the will to fight it. Therefore, sleep or not, he knew he was going to sell a deal with the devil. Even if he didn’t believe in evil in the first place.

--

“Did you see him to his room, Dabi?”, you asked, sat in the same place as before.

“Yes, my Lady”, he smiled, his scars leaking some red drops. You pressed your finger against his cheek, collecting the liquid. Next, you licked the blood, humming in contentment.

“I can’t believe you managed to lull him into the forest!”, you exclaimed in delight.

“It was easy. He was already hungry, so the deer was an easy bait…”

“Ah, you’re growing sneakier.”

“Why him, though?”, Dabi wondered. “Any other would have sufficed.”

“Those villagers really like him. I’ve been observing him for a long time...”, you answered, deep in thought.

“I know”, he frowned. You smirked at his reaction.

“Are you jealous of my new toy, Dabi?”

“No. But I think he might give us some trouble.” Dabi scratched his head. He didn’t like Keigo’s inquiring eyes, as if he could control everything that was happening.

“He’s sentenced to death in the capital. He won’t refuse”, you told the gloomy man. “He’s used to luxuries, he’s sure he can outsmart me. Perfect to manipulate. Besides, he’s got a natural charm that makes everyone trust him. Unlike you.”

“That hurts, my Lady.”

“And,” you kept talking, ignoring his remark, “he’s so oblivious, it will be so fun playing with him. I wish I could drink his blood just yet.”

“Why not?” Dabi crossed his arms. “You can just drink his blood while he’s asleep.”

“The best part is the chase, Dabi. Keigo knows it, he’s a hunter, after all.” Dabi scoffed. “If he’s asleep, he won’t even realise it... There’s no fun in that. And I want to see what face he’d make once I get to sink my fangs in his neck.”

[anystalker707]

Spicy horror

Pairing: Frank x [fem] Reader Word count: ~ 4 000 Genre: Smut / Fluff Summary: It's Halloween, and (y/n) and Frank finally confess their crushes to each other when binge watching horror movies on Frank's place. Kind of content: Praising / Protected / Oral

Requested by @thisisjustforrequestingfanfics (can't tag you, sorry hhh my T*mblr is acting weird)

a/n - I'm sorry that I coudn't proofread, I might do it soon; I was supposed to be asleep rn

"You're just annoying, old man," I tease with a grin. "But don't whine or else you'll ruin the makeup!" I continue spreading the white concealer over his face, careful to get it on the corners around his nose and around his eye, though not to irritate his eyes.

"No, fuck you," Frank groans, his face twitching to suppress any expression. "Why can't we watch it again tonight? They're the best movies! And stop calling me old man, it's just my birthday! I'm not decomposing or anything!" Despite his words, he smiles, opening his eyes once I pull away, leaning back against the chair of the desk – I roll my eyes.

"Yeah, I agree." I grab the eyeshadow palette from the desk and move closer to him again. "TCM is a great series and all, but can we not watch it for a single week? It's your birthday and we can watch literally any horror movie! And it can be special, like, not something we've watched a thousand times already to the point we already know most of the lines." I glare before motioning for him to close his eyes.

Frank sighs grumpily, leaning his head back. "What are you planning on, then? Alien? Jaws?" He lets out a weird cry when I slap the side of his head lightly, though he is soon chuckling.

"And then you complain when I say how annoying you are!" I spread the dark eyeshadow over his eyes, humming. "It's been a while since we've watched The Howling, Evil Dead, House of Wax. I mean, 'm not gonna complain if we decide on Alien and Jaws either." He hums, pouting. "Don't worry, you're still my favorite old man." I press a kiss to his head.

"I hate you," he laughs.

After a little bit of fake blood and retouching on my makeup, the two of us are leaving Frank's house to go to school, waving his mother goodbye. We don't look like what most of the kids will go dressed up as – not putting enough effort nor choosing the same themes as the jocks and popular people and not invisible enough just to throw on whatever in a black theme. Frank looks like a chill vampire with Bela Lugosi's Dracula references, though still looking like a punk, while I decided on one of my favorite characters. Nothing too extra, but still in the vibe.

"You look ridiculous with that hair slicked back." I kick one of the pebbles on the sidewalk. "I prefer the hedgehog or whatever it is in the normal state."

"I honestly feel like I could kill someone just from biting their jugular off." He grins, throwing his nose in the air – I can't help but to chuckle; he's adorable. "But not gonna be anyone from school, they're not worth it neither their blood would taste good." He twists his mouth. "I feel like most I'd get would be booze, botox and steroids."

"Damn," I snort, "awfully accurate. You're gonna starve, sorry."

Frank pouts, looking down, but a smirk soon tugs on his lips as he takes a step closer. "But you're not that bad, baby, you know?"

"Oh, fuck off!" I roll my eyes, clicking my tongue. "You just want to get in my jugular!"

Both of us burst out in chuckles and our conversation eventually dies down when we walk past the gates to inside the school, replaced by jokes at other people's costumes, sometimes needing to hold onto each other from laughter.

We walk into the first class, already a bit late, but all it does is to attract everyone's attention the moment we step in.

"Ridiculous, as always," some girl mutters under her breath. Funny.

Frank wraps a hand around the length of the coat to stupidly bring it to cover the lower part of his face, looking around with narrowed eyes then wide ones. "I smell not just a lot of blood here," he says in a low and raspy voice, "but also stupidity!" He points at the girl judgingly, making her twist her mouth disgusted.

"I hope Freddy Krueger visits you tonight," I say when walking past her, patting her shoulder. A scream comes from her when noticing the fake blood stain I leave behind on her white outfit, having Frank and I chuckling on our way to the back.

No one really pays attention to the classes – it's Halloween, we're even in stupid clothes and anxious for whatever is going to happen later in the day, so the teacher doesn't even bother scolding Frank and I for talking nonstop in the back of the classroom. To be honest, I think only the goody two shoes are actually doing something, sometimes turning around to glare at the others.

"Okay, okay, shut up for a minute!" I tell Frank, taking a look at the messy words over my notebook to check if I forgot to write something down. "We've got The Howling, Alien, Evil Dead, House of Wax, Dawn of the Dead, Funhouse, Pumpkinhead..."

"Fright Night," Frank continues, "Opera, Cannibal Holocaust, Texas Chainsaw–"

"I said no TCM! Fuck you," I curse, rushing to write everything down, crossing out TCM when I accidentaly write it down.

"Friday the 13th, Poltergeist, Near Dark and Elm Street," he finishes, glaring at me. He hits my shoulder, not enough to hurt. "I'll make you watch TCM with me until you have memorized every single frame of it!"

"Your TCM phase will have died down by then!" I twist my mouth bitterly. "Sorry to kill the hype, baby!" I throw my nose in the air with a chuckle at his sulky manners. He furrows his eyebrows, sucking in a breath for words he never really gets to say. "And we still got to watch all these goth movies and shows lying around! Do you think it was easy finding the 60s Addams family show on DVD? Or that one Frankenstein version on cassette." Okay, the last one was easy to find in a yard sale, but still, it was just luck.

"Okay, mommy, please just don't punish me," Frank says with a groan and a fake moan. I stare at him as he's not able to contain his laughter before starting to hit him with the notebook.

"Too bad you're not a good boy, hun."

For once, school ends up actually being nice and just because Frank and I were getting in the character sometimes and pissing people off. By lunch, he had pulled on some sunglasses and looked like the stupidest fucker while eating his sandwich and smudging more of the lipstick and fake blood around his lips. At some point, we had pretended to have a fight and pierce the other's chest with a pair of scissors just to squeeze a bag of fake blood at whoever walked by – mostly some of the jocks or plastics. So much fun.

The house is quiet when we arrive back at it, a couple hours after school ended, and we find out, later, a note from Frank's mom apologizing she can't be here during the rest of his birthday, though she's sure he'll have fun with me.

"Imma take a shower," I sigh, pointing upstairs.

"Sure," he hums, looking up from the note for a moment to smile at me.

Thankfully, I always leave some clothes at Frank's place because I'm here far too often and not always have the chance or disposition to go back home and grab some clothes. It doesn't prevent me from stealing his hoodie, however, and walking out of the bathroom without all of that sticky makeup or fake blood is the best thing ever. Later, Frank is the one to go take a shower while I take care of the food he had already started to prepare.

"Much better!" I raise my eyebrows at the sight of Frank with his hair back to normal and only a bit of black makeup smudges the underside of his eyes now.

"Y'know, I never said a single thing about how you looked," he mutters with his brow low, coming to lean against the counter, next to me, "still, you've been attacking me every chance you got!"

"Does it offend you?" I smile.

"No, but it still hurts!" He sniffles, a hand flat against his chest. "I know I'm too badass for you to handle, but you don't need to let it be that clear!"

I look at him from head to foot. "I hate you, y'know that?"

"Love you too, hun!" He grins and moves closer, cupping my face exaggeratedly to peck my cheek before we head upstairs with everything we need.

We turn the lights on to organize everything, soon sitting down against a pile of pillows and with food surrounding us, though most of it is on the bedside tables since Frank, mainly, gets extremely uncomfortable with it falling on the bed. It doesn't matter, though, since the food and half empty cans end up going forgotten halfway through the movie at the same time the chatter dies down and we watch The Evil Dead as if it was the first time.

Some funny part comes on – well, not exactly funny, but enough to make us chuckle quietly – and brings us back to reality, sighing and glancing at each other, adjusting our postures as we'd slid down the pillows.

Frank yawns.

"Already tired?" I tease, poking his shoulder.

"No." He pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. "Getting tired is for losers." He does glance at the clock on his bedside table, however, and the red glowing numbers say it's six something.

"You're my favorite loser, then." I smirk lightly, exhaling.

Frank's eyebrows knit together as he looks at me, but then rolls his eyes. "Well, duh, of course I am! Who else? I'm the best." He scoots closer until his head is leaning on my shoulder and I can't help but to smile.

"No, I am," I groan, arms wrapped around him.

"I am!" He glares and, at some point, we end up in a wrestling match, pushing each other around the mattress among laughter and curses, which comes to a stop when we start getting too tired and I just let Frank lie down on top of me, head on my chest, still watching the movie. "Do you like anyone, (y/n)?" he asks suddenly. "Like, got a crush?"

Random. Why does he want to know? I mean, I do have a crush, but telling him about it is difficult.

"Um, yeah, I guess, why?" I blink, startled when he suddenly brings himself up on his elbows to stare at me.

"I swear to God I'll hunt them down if you forget about me because of them, do you understand?" Frank presses his forehead to mine. "You're the only one I got, sometimes I'm so worried you'll even leave me for whatever reason."

"What?" I breathe a chuckle, though there's not exactly anything funny here. "Never in my right mind would I do that! And you can't hunt my crush down if my crush is actually you," I laugh in a sudden rush of confidence, which wears out awfully quickly, leaving me lying there and rethinking every life choice.

"Me?" Frank widens his eyes. At the lack of answer, he takes a hold of my collar, straddling my hips. "Did I hear it right? Please, (y/n), (n/n), soulmate? I'm your goddamn crush? For how long?"

I shake my head lightly, shrugging. "Months? A long time."

"And you just told me now?" He cries, forehead pressed to my shoulder. "Slow motherfucker."

"I didn't want you to leave me either, c'mon!" I sigh in defeat, running a hand through his hair. "I remember that time a girl confessed to you and you'd simply vanish whenever she showed up. What if that was with me? I'd not be able to live like this, y'know that."

"Y'know, yeah, seeing it from that point..." Frank shrugs, bringing himself up to face me again. "Still, I wouldn't avoid you like that! Dunno, but it doesn't matter now because you just relieved me of months of suffering. Looking at these pretty lips without being able to kiss it." He furrows his eyebrows, eyes on my lips. "Can I kiss you, tho? Now that we feel stupid for all these months. Damn. At least I feel."

I breathe a chuckle. "Of course! Do you think I wasn't dying to do it either?"

Next thing I know are Frank's lips pressed against mine softly, soon growing firm with confidence. His fingers run along my neck lightly, in a caring manner, dropping to trace my collarbones.

"Also," Frank breathes, pulling away; his face never moves farther than a couple of inches whilst he adjusts his position, lying down beside me on the mattress. "Maybe it's wrong to say and I've always tried to say it in a subtle manner, but–" his eyes meet mine, "–you've got the body of a goddess! Like, dunno, sometimes you comment about not having an 'ideal', skinny body, but you're just so perfect," he groans, wrapping his arms around me tightly.

"Frank!" I tap on his back lightly. It's not that I don't like what he said – no, damn, it sends my heart fluttering, this warmth taking over my chest –, but is it really the truth? I didn't think it was possible for anyone to tell me this.

"No, I'm telling the truth!" Frank grins. "Like, your thighs and all. I just want to squeeze and bite you! Not in a bad way, I mean." I must give him a funny look because of how flustered he grows, tongue playing with his lip ring as he looks away. "There's a lot to unpack, fuck, I thought it was obvious how I always sit there gazing at you and shit, but..."

"Likewise." I glare playfully, making him chuckle.

"Y'know–" Frank smiles lazily, "–this is the best birthday I've ever had, by far." He brushes his lips against mine softly, watching me through half lidded eyes. "Never knew you'd actually like me back. Never believed it was possible, to be honest."

"I never cogitated you like me," I breathe.

"Well, okay," he says, "we've already gotten through this. I think we should focus on now."

"I'm not the one who keeps bringing back past thoughts!" I chuckle at how he pouts, scowling funnily.

"Shut up, shut up, I get it!" Frank rolls his eyes and presses his lips to mine before I can say anything, having me smiling against the kiss until returning it, wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him closer. Now that we've finally kissed, keeping our lips off each others' feels almost impossible – letting go of each other feels almost impossible. "God fucking damnit," he groans under his breathe, moving to press kisses down my jaw, soon reaching my neck.

A sigh escapes my lips at the kisses, though it turns into quiet pleased sounds at the feeling of his teeth pulling at my skin and sometimes closing around it, sucking on it whilst all I can bring myself to do is tugging onto his hair. Suddenly, however, feeling his hands traveling down to my hips and squeezing them makes me gasp, probably reacting a bit more than I intended.

"What?" Frank pulls away at the same moment, eyes wide. "Did I do something wrong? Please– Damn, I'm so sorry!"

"N-No, no," I finally bring myself into speaking up, feeling my cheeks burn bright red. "I, um, I actually... liked it. A lot. Sorry if I scared you, I just wasn't expecting it. I don't mind, really," I insist as he continues looking at me with furrowed eyebrows.

"You sure?"

"Yeah!" I smile, bringing him for a quick kiss before he's trailing down my neck again.

Frank's hands go down my body, experimentally at first and then squeezing my hips again, receiving another reaction this time, including just a soft gasp as I push my hips up – a shiver runs down my spine with it, a nice one. Fuck.

"Damn..." Frank breathes, hands running down to my thighs then up again to slide under my shirt. "It's a bit early, maybe–" he shrugs, looking at me, "–but... is it okay if..."

Holy hell. "Of course," I say without thinking much – he continues to stare, so I nod.

"Fuck yeah," he mutters, lips against mine for a few seconds before he's pulling my shirt over my head and the expression on his face carries such admiration that I can't help but to feel embarrassed for a moment. He never lets me cover myself, nonetheless, hands flying to my waist to hold firmly onto it as he's pressing kisses from my stomach to my hip. "No, seriously–" he sits up again, "–how can someone be so perfect?" He seems to be talking mostly to himself, getting rid of his shirt.

"Dunno." I grin. "How does it feel to be so perfect, baby?"

Frank exhales shakily. "You'll be the death of me and I ain't even joking." He presses a kiss to my collarbone, starting to nibble down at the skin again, trailing down to my chest, lips sometimes lingering over my breasts – sure as hell he leaves a few marks behind, considering how invested he gets.

Something tells me he doesn't know what to focus on. His hands never stay in the same place for too long, going down my thighs then trailing up to my waistband, up my torso, and then he repeats it.

"C'mon," I mutter, placing his hands on my waistband. He's a bit hesitant, but quickly undoes the buttons and starts pulling it down – I help him, kicking the pants away in the end.

A string of curses slip past Frank's lips as he quickly gets rid of his jeans too and, when coming back, he kneels down between my legs this time, spreading them apart. Our lips are yet again locked in a kiss, different from the others, more heated up and urgent this time as we hold onto each other. I play with the hair on the back of his neck and tug onto it instead at the feeling of his hands around my ass, groping.

"Frank, damn," I breathe quietly for a second we pull apart and, opposite to earlier, he gets the hint and does it again, humming against my lips. Once he stops groping, his hands just run along my skin, up and down my body, sometimes lingering. The most lovesick look decorates his face when he pulls away. My heart.

I place my hands on Frank's shoulders as I sit up, changing our positions. He observes me with wide eyes and I smile at him before pressing kisses to his neck, leaving behind a hickey before I can go lower and lower until my fingers are around the waistband of his boxers and I pause, looking up at him, and continue after he nods.

Frank's already half hard, a breath hitching in his throat as, after discarding his boxers, I assume my previous position.

Even if it's not the first time I've done that, this nervousness still lies under my skin as I wrap a hand around him, pumping him lightly before wrapping my lips around the head experimentally. He breathes sharply.

Only halfway through it that I allow myself to look up at Frank, pausing for a moment after finding out he's been watching, propped up on his elbows, eyes focused on me and jaw slack, but I don't look away, hollowing my cheeks instead and watching him break under my gaze, letting go of all the tension for a second.

I repeat the motions a few times and pull away, licking up along the underside, around the tip, and he's suddenly pulling me away – eyes wide and face flushed this time.

Frank mumbles something I can't quite understand, but it doesn't really matter. He moves closer, both of us soon assuming the position we were in minutes ago, pressed against each other. Now, he removes my underwear and his hand slips between us, however.

Pleasure is sent ringing up my spine at the feeling of Frank's fingers slipping past my lips, quickly finding my clit and wasting no time on working his thumb on it while a couple of fingers tease my entrance. Moans just escape my throat easily after he breaks the kiss, mouthing his way until the inside of one of my thighs – he bites and sucks on the skin there. His tongue is suddenly there, then, against my clit, working around it before being replaced by his lips and my vision goes fucking blank when I can feel him sucking on it.

"Fuck," Frank curses once pulling away, moving to frantically rummage through the nightstand's drawer; I groan at the loss of touch, pushing my hips up into nothing.

Hearing the sound of foil being torn makes me understand what's happening, and I watch him rush to slip the condom on, giving us a moment to catch our breath before he's positioning himself, a hand on my hip whilst another holds himself up.

"Tell me if there's something wrong, okay?" he asks slowly, "I'll stop right away. Don't be afraid."

"Same to you," I say softly, cupping his face to pull him for a soft, quick kiss.

Frank smiles with a nod and looks down before I can feel him against my entrance, pushing in slowly. I wrap my arms around his shoulders tightly, feeling his chest vibrate against mine with the low moan coming from him, replaced by a sigh once he sinks in completely. He starts moving right away, hips jerking experimentally before attaining a heavy and slow pace which doesn't last long due to how needy we are already.

I gasp at how he thrusts in harder, wrapping my arms around his shoulders to hold him close and having my legs around his hips, instinctively.

Curses and praises are breathed into my ear among moans, somehow making the pleasure pool down in my lower stomach even more intensely, summed up to feeling his hands groping on my ass again, fingers sinking into the skin.

"You're just so perfect, (y/n)," he babbles, "and even better that now you're all mine."

Suppressing a louder moan turns out to be impossible at the feeling of Frank's hips reaching a certain angle and, soon, the answer I had in my slips away from my grasp and all there's left is just how good he feels. I travel a hand up to his hair, remembering how he reacted to it earlier, and tug on it in a form of response, though also wanting to hear how pathetically he moans at it.

"'M gonna cum," I manage to say before being cut off by a moan, arching my back.

"Me too, babe," he groans, "almost there."

Frank pauses, adjusting himself so a hand is under my thigh and another on the mattress for major support and his thrusts are suddenly harsher. I throw my head back at the same time, holding onto him tightly, and it doesn't take long for all the pleasure that had been building up so far to unravel at once – it apparently triggers the same on him, considering how tight his grasp gets whilst a higher pitched moan comes from him.

Coming down from the high, I feel almost numb, in a good way. Frank pulls away and I'm only aware of him when he's lying down next to me, both of us breathing heavily and unable to do anything aside from staring at the ceiling for a long moment.

"Damn, I love you so much, so much," he mumbles again.

I breathe a chuckle, feeling him cuddling up to me, arms wrapped around me. "And I love you, dumbass." I press a kiss to his head.

"My girlfriend now, right?" he asks. "Nevermind, you don't get to choose." He chuckles, though it quickly dies down. "Just kidding, okay? Tell me to and I'll fuck off."

I laugh, still breathless. "Of course I am. I didn't confess for nothing."

[cipheramnesia]

any horror film recs you feel like sharing? (less modern stuff in particular maybe?)

Modern is more my territory but I can try for a few.

Probably the oldest I know for sure I love is Vampyr, a Spanish version of Dracula from 1932. Just a gorgeous piece of film, kinda a must see for anyone who likes film tbh.

Bride of Frankenstein from 1935 is also regarded as an under-appreciated classic, favorable compared to the OG Universal Dracula and Frankenstein, possibly better. It didn't do the trick for me but worthwhile checking out.

I'm not really invested in the decades leading up to the 70s, but Night of the Living Dead from 68 is mandatory old school horror. For a long while it was one of the go to examples of "bad horror with terrible effects" but fortunately it's finally getting recognized as a skillfully made and genuinely disturbing horror movie. All three original parts of the series (Night, Dawn, Day) are essential and for all purposes created the zombie genre as it exists today. Sadly due to copyright issues, Romero got paid in exposure for this work rather than more tangible dividends. If you find that you enjoy Dawn of the Dead in particular then you may find the giallo zombie films of Fulci to your liking.

For me the 70s is where stuff gets wild. The body horror films of David Cronenberg hit their stride for the whole of the 70s and 80s and, while they aren't all winners, if you're looking for a genre defining director of body horror movies, Cronenberg is where to go.

The 70s also was where the slasher horror franchises all started, but if you want one that's off the beaten path, try the Phantasm series. There's not an easy way to explain it, because it straddles science fiction, horror, zombies, dream reality, and so forth. Do not go into this series expecting coherence. Phantasm is about blasting you through every single idea Don Coscarelli has, logic be damned.

The 1970s is a good place to look for weird stuff in general. Practical effects were coming into their own, and filmmakers in horror were trying out everything and anything to see what would stick. You have a virtual cornucopia of classics from every genre like Wicker Man (folk horror), Halloween (slahser), Alien (monster/scifi), body horror like Cronenberg, Suspiria (giallo), Blackula (blacksploitation), Eraserhead, and so on. Not all of them hold up, but part of the genre is appreciating just how weird it can get.

70s horror is also where you'll find a good number of well known modern directors, just starting to cut their teeth without the rough edges all polished off. There's literally too much to encompass but if you throw a dart you can't miss something weird.

[bufomancer]

Assorted Critter Updates

So after my partner and I move we’re going to have essentially a test litter of soft furs to see how things go. All of the resulting babies will stay with us for life unless one of our local rodent friends specifically falls in love with a couple.

All the planning and theoretical thinking in the world doesn’t fully prepare you for the realities of breeding. It certainly helps, but it’s not a guarantee.

So after we move we’ll set up the adult enclosures for the resulting babies, get a female or two from a local pet line breeder, and we’re thinking Palamedes (the youngest badger face boy) will be the father. He’s a sweet, friendly guy who is good with handling.

If we do end up breeding long term I would want to buy soft furs from other pet line breeders in different areas to add to my gene pool and prevent severe inbreeding, but I don’t want to go to all that trouble and spend all that money if we end up deciding after a few litters that breeding isn’t for us. So we’re starting with one litter using the best of what’s local to us, and we’ll see how it goes from there.

And at the same time we plan to foster hamsters for the local hamster rescue (possibly gerbils and/or mice too, since they take in those as well, but knowing us... if we foster mice we’re going to end up keeping them.) as well as make improvements to the habitats of our permanent residents, and keep an eye out for reptiles and amphibians in need of a temporary safe place until a suitable forever home can be found.

Cardamom is doing very well with his healing. I actually now think that Florian is the issue, as I saw him chase Dracula and bite his butt seemingly unprovoked last night, so Florian has been separated and I will at least attempt slow reintroductions of Cardamom to Clover and Dracula. If that doesn’t work, I’ll likely split off some of my female mouse colony so he isn’t totally by himself.

Florian will probably remain by himself. He is quite old, he’ll be two in June, and with his eye problems this will make it easier to catch him for his daily medications. I don’t really want to go through the stress of reintroducing him to a new group of soft furs right now.

Wonder’s growths are getting a bit larger and are in a position where if they keep growing they’ll start inhibiting her movement. She is quite old already, but at least right now is still active and bright. Both of the mice I adopted her off craigslist with have long since passed so I’m pleasantly surprised she’s stuck around this long anyways. I’ll be sad to see her go but once she can’t run around like she loves to it just won’t be fair to keep her with us.

Ricearoni has been on a bit of a hunger strike with our terrible weird back and forth weather but I’m hoping that’ll end soon now that it seems to be warming up for good. Niobe has been unaffected as far as I can tell, no missed meals. She even took a quail.

Freak wasn’t in his usual spot under his water dish today. I didn’t dig around for him, I will eventually if I don’t see him but I’m hoping he’s feeling more settled in and comfortable and that’s why he’s not just sticking to his preferred burrow.

I haven’t seen Boots in a while as she’s at my mom’s until the move but I need to go over there once my work schedule goes back to normal (we had a callout all week so everyone has been working OT to compensate but hey more $$ for critter stuff) to check on her and to work on the background for Ricearoni’s adult enclosure too. Hopefully I’ll see her, my mom isn’t awake/home much during Boots’ active hours but she’s been eating and all her maintenance is taken care of. I’ll check on her as soon as I’m able to.

The cats are enjoying the warmer weather (since now I can keep windows open for them to sniff) but not enjoying me working so much. I’ll take them out on the harness when I’m able.

I want to revamp Meryt’s enclosure when we move but beyond that he is doing well.

Katie has been out more lately so I may do some more work on hand taming her, but it’s not too important to me since she’s mine. The foster hamsters will get socialized so that they’re more adoptable but I don’t really care much about whether I can pet my own hamster or not.

[see-arcane]

sure adaptations should spicy jonathan up and gnc him instead of whatever they've been doing. but also mina, let her take charge, let her have her arm held, let her check beautiful girls out like in canon

The trouble with Mina in the adaptations is that she so often gets shouldered to one extreme or the other without appreciating her nuance or organically growing from Stoker's admittedly constrained/biased foundation, and not just in the LGBT area.

Mina is either a Complete Damsel Swooning into the Count's Toothy Embrace, or a #Girlboss Strong Independent Spunky Female Character Who Don't Need NO MAN But Gosh isn't that Dracula Soooo Mysterious and Hot??

Jonathan never gets to be Jonathan. Mina never gets to be Mina. That includes their actual good traits and bad traits, the latter of which have every opportunity to be highlighted in a good adaptation, and used as a growing experience. There's a whole moral lesson to be had in dealing with 'the Other' and other nationalities and sexuality and unconventional roles and romances and beliefs and races and imperialism/colonialism and just

So MUCH

that's left laying around for the whole cast to pick up and scrutinize. No, they wouldn't have to be perfectly 21st century No Issues Whatsoever transplants thrust into silly backwards Victorian times. They can still be the characters from the novel. But in addition to all the amazingly rich traits they already have, a good writer-director would know to take Stoker's slipped-in prejudices by the neck, drag them out in the open, and use the entire vampire hunt/conversion affair to force this 19th century cast to break free of their author's clumsy-to-cruel biases. Make them learn! Make them grow! Make them embrace new ideas and drop faulty ones (goodbye physiognomy reliance and Lombroso, you shitty hack)!

These characters--especially Jonathan and Mina--have so much potential to not just be the Amazing Wonderful Unconventional for Victorian Era Good Guys (c) with No Issues At All!, but good people with society-infused flaws that Dracula's mess forcibly rattles them out of. We saw Jonathan break out of his mold after the hell of October 3rd, throwing propriety and his Stalwart Manly Companions' opinions and tropes out the window to go full Gomez Addams. Mina did the same when she clawed her way firmly back into a key player position equal to, and sometimes beyond, Van Helsing's wise paternal leader role; they couldn't have succeeded without her! Without either of the Harkers being themselves: wildly in love, wildly outside the norm, wildly bi and demisexual and gnc and EQUALS!

The same can go for the rest of the ensemble as the story moves forward!

Let Lucy and the suitors acknowledge their broader scope of polyamorous and biromantic love.

Let Jack have a true sense of shame at himself and mourning for Renfield and all the missteps he took in treating the man like an experiment rather than a person; a hero who died trying to save the first person to treat him like an equal, who tried to warn them all, and was slain before anything could be made right.

Let Van Helsing acknowledge that his eccentricities and benevolent reasoning aren't an excuse for leading everyone around by the nose and locking the dainty females out of the loop.

Let everyone get a cold slap of reality in the face when they have to acknowledge the folly of (their author's) myriad haughty-to-bigoted beliefs regarding other cultures and not-Anglo-enough people.

Let! Them! Grow!

[SCREAMS IN UNFULFILLED ADAPTATION DAYDREAMS]

...

Anyway yeah, do agree with you. Let Mina ogle pretty girls in Piccadilly, let Jonathan share a glass of wine with a gallant petty officer who rode away with him on horseback away from peril, good good good

[zodiyack]

When The Past Follows

Requested by Anon: Hey I really love your writing and I was wondering if you could do a supernatural x the originals fanfic. Maybe the reader grew up with the Winchesters and both her and Dean have unexpressed feelings for each other so when they go to New Orleans for a case and a secret past relationship with Klaus comes to the surface things get...well...complicated.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader, mentioned previous Niklaus Mikaelson x Female!reader

Warnings: Angst, swearing, cocky Klaus

Words: 2,013

Summary: (See Request)

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read-it, @simonsbluee, @jenepleurepasbaby, @dpaccione, @psychkunox, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow, @sparklesmolwarriorprincess​

Masterlist | The Originals Masterlist | Supernatural Masterlist

Some Years Ago . . .

“I love you.”

“I love you too...but-

“But what.” His words was not a question, but a command. A command to know her reasoning.

“I...I told you...I’m good to mess around, be involved but...” her hand caressed his face gently. The man leaned into her warm, soft skin, closing his eyes as a crestfallen look slid upon his face.

“Don’t say it-” he breathed softly.

As much as she wanted to comply to his request, though it was more of a demand, reality was the giant hurdle she simply couldn’t jump over. Going around would be cheating and running into it would do nothing to affect anything positively. Her only choice was to give up, for she’d tried and tried to jump over it for so damn long, her legs felt as though they were about to give out.

The moment was almost poetic, in a depressed, melancholy way. A single tear slipped from her eye before she sniffled and tore her hand from his face. “I have to leave soon. One of the consequences to that is that I can’t afford to fall in love. Not now, probably not ever. Especially not with someone...like...like...”

“Like me.” His eyes opened and the softness faded from his blue orbs. The feeling of tenderness no longer filled the air around them.

“No- not like that! It’s-”

“Yes, like that. If that’s how it is, if you believe I’m like the ones you hunt...so be it.”

The waterworks did their job and the dam broke, for she was unable to stop herself. “What? I-”

“Leave,” he hesitated, but not for long, turning his back on the woman he once loved, “before I tear your throat out.”

Present Day

“Where are we?” Y/n rubbed the tiredness out of her eyes, just waking up from a long nap that had lasted most of the drive. The last thing she remembered was curling up in the backseat and closing her eyes. Now, the car was somewhere new. It was familiar, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“On our way to New Orleans. We have a mission, remember?”

“Name sounds familiar.” She sighed, still stuck on digging through her memory. “How long until we stop?”

“Not that long, sweetie.” Dean assured her. He met her eyes through the mirror, a chuckle erupting from his throat when she raised her brow to the nickname. “We’ll wake you when we get there. You should rest some more.”

It took one second for her to shut her eyes and drift back into unconsciousness. This time, though, her sleep was not as pleasant. Somewhere, deep inside her, she knew what lied in New Orleans. And that part of her dreaded what was to come.

They arrived at a mansion of sorts, parking in the closest spot they could, which was hard due to the rowdy street. The Winchester brothers found it amusing, the cheeriness of the natives, the tourists itching to see every bit of what they thought was some normal place. Y/n, however, made the connection the second she laid eyes on the French Quarter.

“C’mon, we’re supposed to go inside this place.” Sam double checked the paper in his hand before nodding up to the gated mansion. Y/n’s eyes doubled in size, it felt like her heart dropped to her stomach.

“There?”

He nodded slowly but brushed it off as though she was simply making sure. A shudder ran through the three of them when they stepped onto the property. Everything felt off. The energy. The scent. The sight that greeted them;

Sam cringed, perturbed as the grotesque sound of fangs ripping into flesh became the only sound in the room. Noticing both the discomfort on the Winchesters’ faces and the uncomfortably familiar person they were staring at, Y/n took charge.

“Sorry to interrupt your meal, but we have some shit to do, and questions to ask.”

Klaus’ head turned, his body tense like a snake coiling to pounce on the oblivious little mouse. However, the second his eyes met Y/n’s, he relaxed, only for a second. Then his better-than-thou demeanor returned his infamous cheeky grin slipped upon his blood-stained lips.

“I thought I told you to leave, little mouse.” That’s what she was to him. Just another little creature for him to savagely drain.

What he didn’t know, was that over time, she became what was known as a wolf in sheep’s clothing, ironically. Spending most of her life with the Winchesters impacted her a lot, but after cutting Klaus from her life and spending more time with the brothers, she toughened up dramatically. “Yeah but then you hired us to rid ‘your city’ of some supernatural vermin, but the only vermin I see is you.”

“Feistier now, I love it. Pleasure to see you again, Y/n/n.” Rebekah descended from the staircase, a genuine smile on her painted lips as she greeted her old friend. “And you picked up some better friends. I knew I liked you for a reason.”

“Better as in not Klaus?” She asked. Then Y/n met the man in question’s eyes and held a bitter smile. “Couldn’t agree more.”

“Finally, someone sees my point. Anyways, I’ll guide you to my part of the problem while Nik discusses his with the boys.” The blond was quick to pull Y/n away and up to her room, pulling out a drink before she would actually take her to see what was in the Mikaelson cellar.

Without Y/n, the tension had thickened. More specifically, the tension between the two men who had ever loved her. Dean’s unspoken feelings and Klaus’ romantic trauma were unbeknownst to each other, but Klaus was no fool. He could pick up on Dean’s feelings from a mile away, and he was feeling rather petty at the moment.

The mischief in this expression grew a dangerous amount. “You and I are the same, friend.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Dracula.” He held the look of disinterest.

Klaus gave an acknowledging nod to Dean’s jest-like-quip. “Sure you do. While we are of different species,” he paused, the corners of his mouth nearing his eyes with each second the passed by, “we are interested in the same prize.”

Dean began to sweat, informing Klaus that he did indeed know the subject of the matter, but still, he avoided giving into the antagonizing hybrid. “Nice to meet a man who likes his sandwiches, right Sammy?”

“I- ...What?”

“No, no. While it would be nice to get a bite of her, taste her sweet blood, I find it wouldn’t be as appetizing to you as it is to me?”

Sam stepped forward, “Back off, dude. Dean isn’t a vamp, and Y/n isn’t gonna be your next meal.”

“That’s not quite what I meant...” He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing and grin not yet faltering. “Sammy, is it?”

“It’s Sam to you.” Dean grumbled. “Look, Y/n can choose on her own.”

“Agreed.” Niklaus nodded. His lips were forming another word, but Dean interjected at record speed.

“But she has a brain, so don’t expect her to choose your fanged ass.”

“Dean!”

“Sam!”

“Enough.” Klaus’ playfully sinister expression dissipated into pure agitation. “It may be that she can choose with her own free will, but she has already chosen me once, who’s to say she wouldn’t be opposed to choosing me again?”

The hybrid’s cruel smile returned to his face as Dean visually tensed. Dean’s jaw and fists clenched. Had Sam not grabbed his arm, Dean probably would’ve swung at the cocky man in front of him. “We have some business to do, if you don’t mind showing us?”

“Ah, yes, right this way please.”

Rebekah’s, really Hayley Marshall and the werewolves of the Bayou’s, problem was solved, leaving Klaus’ to be taken care of before the three could return home. He drove them to some woodsy area, ushered them out of the car, and from then on, they walked. The four of them tried to stay together the best they could, but every now and then the group would drift slightly.

Another drift happened, Sam closer to Klaus who was leading the way. This was it. A free moment to ask. Dean had to take advantage of it. He neared Y/n cautiously before whispering in her ear, “Is it true?”

Y/n furrowed her brows in confusion. “Is what true?”

“That you and the Count,” he nodded his head in Klaus’ direction, “were up close and personal?”

“What?”

“Ya know... You guys were bangi-”

Y/n’s face scrunched, “No! I know what you meant- I just- Who told you that?”

“Mr. Wolf himself.”

Her expression morphed into one of rage. “What else did he tell you?”

Y/n grabbed Klaus’ arm, making Dean’s jaw clench and Klaus smile wickedly. She harshened her grip and planted her feat, telling him to stay behind with her. Dean threw a glance over his shoulder to Y/n but continued forward with Sam when she nodded reassuringly. 

“I see, you really aren’t opposed to more-”

She rolled her eyes and let go of his arm to turn and face him. Although Klaus’ grin grew at her actions, it fell when he was shoved backwards. “Why the fuck are you such a dick?!”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, love. The worst of them all is what I’ve always aimed to be.”

“Of course you have.” Another eye-roll. She was tired of his bullshit. It followed her for years, then she finally had other things on her mind, but here it was again. “Just tell me, why on earth you would bring up our relationship out of the blue. You were the one who spat on my heart, were you not?”

“That’s hardly the case! You broke my own when you said ‘but’ after claiming to love me!”

Red clouded her vision. “I did love you! Just...” Y/n tried to calm herself. “Tell me why you did it.”

“Couldn’t help myself. Perhaps I was jealous.”

Y/n scoffed. “Jealous? What’s there to be jealous of?”

“You really don’t see it?” He chuckled.

“See what?”

“I think your friend Dean got the point pretty quickly.”

The gears grinded, a mere moment passing by before- “What?! No- He doesn’t... Does he?... Even if he does...why...” It wasn’t the only thing that clicked. “You fucking asshole! Is this why you hired us? To get a rise out of the man I love?”

“On the contrary, I do have a rather annoying problem with some supernatural being, however, like I said, I couldn’t help but watch the envy in your little crush grow with each story I shared.”

Y/n shifted on her feet, furrowed her brows, and sighed heavily. “Lets catch up then. But once we deal with it, I want out of your life, and you out of mine.”

“Wha-”

“I said, we’re doing what you hired us to do, and then we’re gone.”

“Ar-”

“Yes! Yes, I’m fucking sure, Klaus! I never wanted to come back here anyways. You hired us, we responded. You wanna know why I’m pissed right now? Well, for one, you threatened me when I said I had to leave, then now, you had the fucking nerve to pick on Dean the second you noticed his feelings towards me when I’m not yours to be jealous over. You riled him up over something I try to forget.”

Her words made him flinch, tears leaving his eyes. “Do you really mean that?”

“Yes.” She took a second for her tone to sink in, then turned back toward the boys, who were becoming smaller and smaller in the distance. “We’re finishing our case. When we’re done, I plan on living a happy life with Dean by my side, doing cases with him and his brother, maybe having a kid or two, and never, I mean never this time, seeing you ever again.”

Then, with one final shake of her head, she ran off to join the Winchesters. To say her words were easy to take in would be bullshit. And, she sighed, Klaus was full of that.