#the vampire characters are so vivid and interesting and LYING ALL THE TIME that its easy to take your eyes off the slaughter

[drumlincountry]

Soooo clever to make Claudia's love interest a Nazi sympathiser. Like, Claudia murders >700 people a year. What kind of person would be ok with loving her? And what would that kind of person be doing in fascist france? Nazis. They'd be doing Nazis.

[pensivetense]

A List Of (Mostly TMA) Fic Recs Sorted By Vibe

Not an exhaustive list by any means, just a few favourites that caught my fancy. I shortened many of the summaries for space.

I’m going to pin this here and update it as I go.

Also, I’m pensivetense on ao3

MELANCHOLY VIBES

for when you want to feel comfortably muted

(sad but not utterly bleak endings here)

Hope, Etc. (Dickenson, et al.) by yellow_caballero

Jonathan Sims, six months after the Unknowing, wakes to find himself without a daemon - without humanity, without a soul. It’s a cursed half-life, but existence as a shell without a heart isn’t so bad: between solving the mystery of a persistent illusion cast over his friends and some light pseudo-cannibalism, a life as a monster is better than no life at all. At least, it would be, if it wasn’t for the fucking Owl.

A freaking. Amazing. Daemon au. Ties the lore of Dust with TMA lore very satisfyingly, but is mostly about Jon navigating what it means to be human, or, in the absence of that, a person, and doesn’t require prior knowledge of His Dark Materials. Cannot recommend highly enough.

after one long season of waiting by nuinuijiaojiao

Annabelle is not used to having nice things. or, Annabelle heads to Upton House, muses a little, and gets some well-deserved rest

I love survivalist Annabelle and also the concept of the Web as kind of a horrible Patron, actually.

i love you. I want us both to eat well. by SmallishWormMasterOfTheUniverse

At the safehouse with Martin, Jon decides it's time to quit statements once and for all. The Eye disagrees. Martin just needs Jon to be okay. It's quite possible that nobody is going to get what they want.

Scottish Safehouse Era, Jon and Martin coping with their respective Entities... really, really good.

the friend by doomcountry

He always greets a new spider when he meets it. It’s instinct, born in childhood, the same way he instinctively counts magpies, or flicks salt over his left shoulder. A little harmless superstition. A bit of politesse.

A great Martin character study with eldritch spider horror included. The imagery regularly haunts me (in a good way).

autumn’s rare gift by bee_bro

Annually, the two meet, renewing the binding ritual where it had all started. The procedure simple: a waltz.

Singlehandedly made me ship Gertrude/Agnes so there’s that. It’s so bittersweet and bee_bro’s writing is, as always, incredibly poetic. (I’d recommend everything they write, actually.)

smile, you’re trending by Goodluckdetective

During an encounter with another Avatar of the Eye, Jon faces his past, Martin takes a turn at playing Kill Bill and Basira has a second look at the monster she’s determined to see. For three people associated with the Eye, they could all use some perspective.

Features an original Eye Avatar character who’s a YouTube personality; she is infuriating and inspired and genuinely frightening and I cannot say enough good things.

Humility by The_Lionheart

have you no idea that you're in deep?/i've dreamt about you nearly every night this week,/how many secrets can you keep?

An OC centric story but don’t let that put you off, it’s amazing. Very heavily focused around Jonah Magnus and the other Avatars as they change through the years. Also, I’d die for the OC.

oh, for one sweet second without the eye series by faedemon

Beholding does not like in the way humans do, but it likes its Archivist all the same.

I’m just so fond of the way this is done stylistically. I have a great weakness for dialogue only/dialogue heavy writing, not to mention all of the wonderful character beats and interplay of humanity/inhumanity for Jon and Melanie.

Rewind by WhyNotFly

It takes eight days of forced confinement for Jon to start hallucinating. [...] It’s Martin, though, that his exhausted brain conjures, because of course it’s Martin. After all this time, of course it’s Martin.

Jon willingly allows himself to be confined rather than hunting for statements, and examines his relationship with Martin.

for a firmament series by supaslim

There is beauty in destruction. There is art in becoming. In which Jon becomes the Archive, and the Archive becomes Jon.

Part two posted this morning and uhhh. Good. Also if you’re here for weird eldritch body horror (I am), this one’s for you.

ONES THAT JUST HURT

for when you want to feel sad

(somewhat bleaker endings here/everyone is NOT okay)

Feste by yellow_caballero

If asked, Martin would say that he became the shadow director of the Magnus Institute by accident. But nobody ever asked, and nobody ever cared, and it was in this way that Martin stopped lying to himself. Or: break free, Martin. All you have to lose are your chains. And your sanity.

Oh, this one totally didn’t go the way I expected it to. A study in isolation. Could go into the category above, as the ending is not bleak, but the tone of the whole is somewhat more depressing than most there.

Ghosts of Love by RavenXavier

Nothing made Martin more grounded in the world than yearning for Jonathan Sims.

Lonely!Martin that really captures a sort of visceral ache. Hurts me and yet I keep rereading.

i do desire (we may be better strangers) by godbewithyouihavedone

For ages, it only knew how to worship, taking human bodies and living off the fear of those who remembered. It never knew love until it became Jonathan Sims. Now it must fight against every instinct to save Martin Blackwood. Archivist Sasha, Not!Jon/Martin, and the worst kind of Fake Dating AU.

Oh, this one just made me sad. The poor not!them, which is something I never thought I’d say.

Apple Of Your Eye by fakeCRfan

In which the Eye is fond of Martin. Perhaps a little too fond for comfort.

Somehow manages to be both sweet and horrifying—the characterisation of the Eye is incredible. ‘The Eye loves Martin’ is a scenario that’s so utterly doomed to failure and yet the writing is packed with so much pathos that I just want them all to be happy. A fantastic use of themes of agency and choice, and the single best use of Beholding as a source of horror I’ve read.

The Last Press by copperbadge

Jon Sims is awake, and has begun preparations for the Rite of the Watcher's Crown. Peter Lukas, who woke him, would be content to rule at his side. Martin is very upset about all of this, and the Lukases aren't thrilled with it either.

I really can’t say anything without spoiling the end and it’s so good. An alternate take on the Watcher’s Crown. Not a pairing that I ever thought would work for me, but this made it work.

watch the blood evaporate by 75hearts

It starts, like so many things in Jon’s life have started, with a nagging itch of curiosity. Jonathan Sims uses his healing abilities throughout s4. Read the tags.

Dear God please read the tags. But this is some high quality pain if it’s for you.

the lighthouse series by low_fi

Peter Lukas is a lighthouse keeper. One evening, he gets a call from a cryptic overseer tasked with monitoring his work.

This is such a vivid and yet subtle story—from the setting to the emotions portrayed, it creeps up on you slowly. The ending was like the gentlest possible gut-punch. The sequel just completed, and yeah, just as wonderful. This one is very much LonelyEyes but I listed it here because it is just exquisitely painful.

SATISFYINGLY HOPEFUL VIBES

for when you want to feel cozy

Clutching Daffodils by Gemi

Martin has always liked the idea of love at first sight. It’s such a romantic idea, the whole thing of it. Seeing someone and instantly feeling that strange, twisting feeling deep inside that every single media likes to obsess over. Of knowing you are in love within the day, petals falling from your mouth and warmth filling your chest as love burrows deep, vines twisting through your lungs. He always liked the idea of it. And then Jonathan Sims starts working at the Magnus Institute.

Somehow manages to be lighter and fluffier than most hanahaki fare, despite the setting. I’ve reread this one a lot.

the least he could do by Prim_the_Amazing

Martin should in fact not pick this man, specifically because of how attracted he is to him. It would be the responsible thing to do. Except he’s already following him. And he’s hungry.

Fluffy vampire au which everyone’s probably already read, but was too good not to mention.

rather interesting by bee_bro

Jonah Magnus realizes that, for some reason, when he comes in contact with weed, Elias Bouchard's consciousness will come into his life banging pots and pans.

Oh boy. So these are all favourite fics but this one is a favourite amongst favourites. The way Jonah is characterised (i.e. incredibly sensitive to scrutiny) is my favourite depiction of him, and the slow-burn between him and Elias is far sweeter than it has any right to be. Also, it’s hilarious.

The Magnus Records series by ErinsWorks

In a world parallel to that of the Archives and the Institute, a supernatural sanctuary stands against a cruel and uncaring world: A world of bureaucracy and tyranny, of murder and carnage, of loneliness and surveillence, of plague and death. But in this world of fear and misery, 14 entities born of the hopes of the world have emerged. And one of them has made their home here, at The Magnus Sanctuary. Perhaps, the employees within may lead happier lives than their counterparts did in the Archives.

This is just so goddamn pure. The author writes a really imaginative, fleshed-out alternate world and alternate Entities with engaging, well-written short statements. All of the character voices are absolutely on point, and it’s overall absurdly hopeful without ever feeling overly saccharine. I love this series so much, you guys, you don’t even know. I want to print it out and paste it on my wall. I love it.

HARD APOCALYPSE

for when you want to feel dark and angsty (and eldritch)

Most of these are shorts/oneshots because it’s just that kind of genre, y’know?

Ashes to Ashes by marrowbones

A conversation at the end of the world.

Oliver Banks is one of those minor characters that I am overly attached to. Love him here.

Employee Benefits by equals_eleven_thirds

The Magnus Institute offered some normal employee benefits: a pension plan, holidays, travel subsidies, free lunch on the last Friday of each month. Rosie makes it work.

This manages to hit that perfect sweet spot of satisfying and hilarious. Rosie gets to torment Elias, as she well deserves.

a rose by any other name by Duck_Life

Part of Jon blooms in Jared Hopworth’s garden.

This one was sad and honestly too gentle to really belong in this category, but I love it.

Eye to Eye by Dribbledscribbles

In which Jonah Magnus attempts a post-apocalyptic pep talk.

Unreliable narrator at its finest, and the implications are suitably horrific.

commensalis by doomcountry

The tower is endlessly, impossibly tall, but Jon’s work is taller.

If you’re here for the eldritch imagery, then this has some of the best.

SOFT APOCALYPSE

for when you want to feel gently triumphant

apocalypse how series by sunshine_states

Humanity adjusts. The Entities have Regrets.

Some nice vignettes set in a kinder apocalypse.

ceylon series by Sciosa

The one in which Jonathan Sims decides that no, actually, he isn't going to let the world just end.

I include this only for the sake on completeness, as everyone has no doubt already read it.

rituals by doomcountry

Martin is the first person to knock on the Archivist's door since it arrived, fully, into its little waiting temple. The Archivist saw him coming from down the hall, but decides to feign interest when the knob turns, and Martin—still a little bit smaller, a little more translucent than before—stands uncertainly just outside the room.

This one’s a little less focused on the world at large and more on JonMartin specifically.

we raise it up by savrenim

Jonathan Sims reads a book and saves the world; although maybe the real salvation is the friends he makes along the way; (although perhaps the world itself and the darkness that exists behind it isn't quite as out to get everyone as it seems).

More ‘soft revolution’ than ‘soft apocalypse’, but has the same vibe. A time travel fix-it. Incomplete but worth it if this is a mood that appeals to you.

Scarred Ground by DictionaryWrites

“You see," Elias said softly, "people always have this idea that only living things can be scarred - and they're right, of course. But a building is a living thing, Martin. And the ground can be scarred, too." "I don't have any scars," Martin said. "Yes, you do," Elias said. "You just need the right light to see them.”

Falls somewhere between ‘Apocalypse’ and ‘Soft Apocalyse’ but I’m putting it here because I feel like it. Also technically a LonelyEyes fic. I found it hard to follow at first but it’s worth sticking with; things will eventually begin to make sense and come together.

LONELYEYES

for when you want to feel lonelyeyes

marrying anguish with one last wish by procrastinatingbookworm

In which Elias isn't Orpheus, and Peter isn't Eurydice, but Elias brings Peter home anyway.

Lives in my head rent free forever. My favourite lonelyeyes fic.

ouroboros by Wildehack

“You know,” Jonah says, a muscle in his calf quivering agreeably where it’s slung over Mordechai’s shoulder, “it’s really quite--fortunate--that I don’t care for you at all.”

Oh, this one hurts in the best possible way. The endless cycle of their relationship, the way it comes full-circle... yeah, good. Actually, no, this one might be my favourite. It’s a tie.

Breaking all the Rules by Thedupshadove

Elias proposes a somewhat...unusual wager.

Soft lonelyeyes? In my recs? It’s more likely than you think. Short, sweet, and... sweet.

Threefold by Sprinkledeath

Peter Lukas breaks three rules.

I’m just a slut for mythology allusions I guess.

Luck Be A Lady Tonight by prodigy

In 2014, Elias Bouchard takes a rare trip outside of his comfort zone. Peter Lukas wastes a bunch of money. You'd be surprised how many things can go wrong for two beings of cosmic power.

I love the sense of the history of them you get while reading this.

love is just a word (the idea seems absurd) by kaneklutz

"Something's wrong. It's stopped hurting" An avatar of the Lonely and an avatar of the Beholding walk into a bar relationship. It was bound to blow up in their faces.

Short, sweet, painful. Excellent exploration of their priorities.

Victor by penguistifical

elias tries something with his powers that he hasn't attempted before

The one where Elias tries to raise the dead. Not incredibly LonelyEyes centric but that’s still the pairing.

Simon Says by penguistifical

“Peter asked me to drop by and have a word with you, and, so, here I am.” Simon chuckles at Elias’s disbelieving stare. “Well, he asked in his own way. He’s not a complicated man, you know. He either comes from your arms looking like a stroked cat that’s been given a dish of cream or looking like he’s been in that toy boat of his out in an unexpected storm. He was far angrier than normal, so I daresay you weren’t cream today.”

I mean personally I’d just go ahead and rec all of penguistifical’s LonelyEyes fics but this is a standout for me.

AROMANTIC AND ASPEC MOODS

for when you want to feel Seen

The Aro Archives series by WhyNotFly

These are all just really really good. From Aro!Peter to two different aro-spec versions of the Scottish Safehouse to a long and beautiful aro hanahaki fic, this series is uniformly wonderful. The two Scottish Safehouse ones (Torn Edges and Murky Water) are my comfort fics.

and now all fear gives way by j_quadrifons

Before he can think it through, he murmurs, "Is that what it feels like? Being in love?" Martin's hand stills in his hair and Jon's stomach drops.

This one just. Wow yeah this is how it be. Another absolute comfort fic of mine.

Sweet As Roses by Prim_the_Amazing

Jon takes Martin by the shoulders, leans up on the tips of his toes, and kisses him.

I’m going to be honest—I didn’t know where to put this one. But it ended up here because the real standout of this fic for me is the portrayal of Sasha, and especially her portrayal as an aro character. So I’m putting it here. Mind the content warnings with this one!

HUMOUR

for when you want to feel delight

The Torment of Sebastian Skinner by Urbenmyth

After the Eye's victory, the statement givers are trapped in their horror stories, living them over and over again. Naturally, this works out better for some then for others.

Premise? Delightful. Execution? Fantastic. I read this one to cheer myself up when I’m sad.

Unlucky by VolxdoSioda

Jon’s dice betray him

Short, sweet DnD au, and the reason I cannot get DM!Elias out of my head now.

Voracious by beetl

A bird hits the window. Jon experiences The Flesh's thrall.

“Dead Dove: Do Not Eat” but make it literal.

The Stupid Endings by Urbenmyth

There are a lot of very deeply thought out and creative AUs on this site. These aren't among them. These ones are how the story could have ended, if Jonny Sims was a dumbass.

These are just uniformly hilarious, I cannot recommend them highly enough.

PODCAST CROSSOVERS

for when you want to make one of those “if I had a nickel for every time...” posts

The Sabbatical by morelikeassassin

Nicholas Waters is in need of an all-knowing eldritch entity beyond the confines of human imagining to help with his latest ritual. He'll have to settle for Jonathan Sims, who happens to have nothing better to do.

Crossover with Archive 81 (s3, specifically). Both fun and bittersweet.

The City And Its Sorrows by cuttooth

“What makes you think your friend is in Eskew?” David asks. He feels he can risk the scrutiny of the city that far. “I read that this is a place people end up when they get lost,” says the man. “This is a place people end up,” David agrees./The Archivist comes to Eskew.

Contemplative piece, and I love the way it presents David’s relationship with Eskew, the way he finds it horrible and hates it and yet belongs to it, is almost proud in the way he shows to to Jon. Great little vignette of two people oppressed by eldritch powers, intersecting.

Hiatus by bibliocratic

My name is Jonathan Sims, and I am in Eskew. (Jon gets lost in a Spiral city. It is not as easy as escaping.)

This one is far more focused on Jon than David, and is honestly more Eskew-weird than Spiral-weird. In the best way. Told in Eskew episode style, and is very good.

Sweet Music by Shella688

Eskew has a music to it, if you know how to listen. The percussion beat of thousands of footsteps, the melody in the squealing of the trains overhead. Today, the music of Eskew comes in the form of nine musicians, playing outside my office. My name is David Ward, and I am in Eskew.

Not TMA, but since a lot of Mechs fans go here—this one’s a Mechs/Eskew crossover. Short and simple, mostly David Ward centric, just a little well-written one shot I had to mention because I enjoyed it but it doesn’t have much traffic. Nice portrayal of the Mechs from an outsider’s perspective, and how genuinely strange and frightening they’d come across (especially if you’re already being haunted by and eldritch city). If you like Eskew-style storytelling, check it out!

NOT TMA

...but good enough that I physically cannot make a recs list without including them. Here!

[axlolot]

‘Rouge’.

After a trip to the Louvre, which was supposed to be relaxing and fun, our heroine here presented, Manon, had found herself trapped in a mansion, in the end of the ninetieth century, where she had time-travelled and had experienced the most vivid dream—or nightmare—she ever had. Very distressed, she decided to tell the butler of the mansion, Sebastian, about this very peculiar dream, to which he replied that it wasn’t such a silly dream.

She blinked. 

Once.

Twice.

“Are you kidding me? It’s not funny any more.”

“I am telling the truth. The residents here are all vampires.”

And he’s serious, on top of that!

“Are you trying to comfort me, somehow?” she laughed, bowing towards him over the table.

If he was, he was doing a really bad job. That is not how you are supposed to make someone feel better after a bad dream, not by telling them that they might not have been dreaming. But the expression on his face, the seriousness, the firm belief that he was telling the truth—! Was Sebastian actually an actor...?

“… Comfort?”

“Yes, you’re trying to humour it, right? My dream… it’s a joke?”

There was no way he wasn’t joking. She could believe in time-travel, she could believe in a door that opens only once every month or so like a stubborn child throwing a tantrum, she could believe in great figures of History being reunited here. But don’t try to make her believe they are vampires on top of that, she won’t fall for that one, Sebastian. Tu pousses le bouchon un peu trop loin, Maurice!

The butler, a little taken aback that she would believe in so much, yet stop at the most plausible of the things she learned tonight, stared at her, his lips slightly parted.

“Thank you for the water. I should leave you alone, now.”

“Wait, Manon—I wasn’t joking…!”

“By Jove, you two are still awake?”

She jumped, surprised by the new voice. Bringing a hand to her heart, she turned toward the door, only to see the flirty one. Was it Arthur? Ah, yes, that must be it. When he introduced himself at dinner, she thought that for a mystery writer, the romance might have suited his personality better. He would have made so many heart swoon, back in the day, if he’d written about a character like himself.

When he looked expectantly at her, she lowered her hand.

“Sir… Arthur, right…?”

“Why, yes, right you are, indeed. Remembered my name?” he teased with a big smile, coming closer.

“How could I forget…?” she murmured, ironically.

She extended a hand, not quite touching him, and took a step back. Enough to tell him that he shouldn’t come any closer. Had he any idea about personal space?

“Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant!”

This one really sounded like a Don Juan. His smile was so big, you couldn’t miss it, and it wasn’t faked one bit. Even if he was a charmer, she felt a warmth emanate from him, and thought people around him might never have the time to feel bored.

“Please, don’t come so close...”

“Ah, my bad. But it’s done on purpose, though. Must leave an impression on you.”

“You already did, no need to push it further.”

“Would you mind?”

He teased her, his voice taking a darker tone, bowing a little so he could meet her eyes. When he saw the slightest blush grow on her cheeks as she averted her gaze, he smiled triumphally and turned to Sebastian.

“Sir Arthur.”

She took the occasion that Sebastian was speaking to get away from him, and closer to Sebastian. She knew, unconsciously, that she’d be ‘safer’ with him than with the blue eyed flirt.

“Were you out… playing around… again?”

The more Sebastian talked, the more irritated he sounded. She swore, at the end of his question, she saw him give the writer a judgemental glare. Did butlers have the right to do that, or is it just him!?

“I was. There’s nothing wrong with wanting a little dessert after supper, right?”

He walked closer to the table, playing with a pear he found on the counter, before putting it back in the basket.

“I couldn’t get a bite, though. No moppet around.”

Oh, so that’s what he meant by ‘dessert’. Seeing his metaphors had the effects he wanted, he smiled at her.

“That is to say, I couldn’t find a single lovely moppet to satisfy me,” and he sat, not breaking eye-contact once, giving pressure to each of his words.

Wait, no, that was not it. ‘bite’ ‘dessert’ ‘moppet’. Either, and as a writer you couldn’t blame him, he was very figurative about his way with women. Or, he was just giving more depth to what Sebastian had just said. But it had to be the figurative imagery, it had to. 

Her body tensed slightly, though. After all, she had seen so much tonight, could vampires really be a surprise.

“Fetch me a bottle, Sebastian, please. I’m feeling a bit peckish after spreading so much affection for nothing, and I don’t fancy going to bed on an empty stomach.”

Her legs faltered slightly at the word ‘peckish’, her fingers tightening around the back of the chair in front of her. She even took a step further away from him. 

“One moment, Sir.”

Trying to clear her mind from digging deeper into any strange theory it could come with, she looked at Sebastian and tried to concentrate on him. Opening an old placard, one which she could see through, with the glass ornate in the corners by golden flowers, Sebastian took one transparent decanter and a fancy wine glass. The substance inside looked like wine, though she had never seen a wine so thick. When Sebastian turned toward them and put the refined bottle on the table, its content wobbled and seemed to stick to the smooth container.

“Is it wine?” 

The question left her lips quicker than she wanted to, and she immediately regretted asking it.

“Oh… She doesn’t know?” he asked, turning toward the butler.

“I was trying to explain the situation, when you arrived. Maybe you’ll do a better job than I did, Sir.”

Arthur smiled, very much amused.

“Sebas, I’m surprised at you. Even you had a hard time to believe it.”

Sebastian lowered his gaze a little, a smile in the corner of his lips, as if silently asking for forgiveness, or sharing an inside joke.

“You talked for so long, yet he kept this part for himself? Now, that’s not very kind of our Comte, is it?” he added, looking at her.

Arthur stood up, holding the glass decanter in one hand, and his glass in the other. With the dexterity of a bartender, he popped up the stopper with the same hand, and let the fine liquid fill his cup.

“Now, darling, what do you think that is?”

“… Wine.”

Or so she wanted to believe.

“Wrong guess. Do try again.”

He offered her the bottle, which she took carefully in both hands, while he emptied in one gulp the entirety of his cup. His playful smile was infuriating. She looked at the inside of the bottle, frowning. Now, she was sure, it didn’t look like wine. It was too thick, too sticky to be wine. And too dark to be tomato juice. She brought it to her nose, but couldn’t smell anything except for this warm, metallic scent which troubled her mind.

“I heard from le Comte that you’ll be staying for the month? If so, you’ll want to get to know us well. VERY well, if I dare be so bald.”

“Sir Arthur, may I ask what—”

Taking the bottle out of her hands, he stared at her right in the eyes. She didn’t feel the same attraction to these eyes as she had felt with the sleepy man in the hallway, earlier. Yet, they still were bright with mischief.

“You asked what that was. Well, this is called ‘Rouge’, or so some call it.”

As if daring her to watch and not miss anything from the show, he brought the bottle tentatively to his mouth and gulped down one long line of this so called Rouge. The sound he made was guttural, and his upper lip was tainted with red when he put the bottle back on the table. His tongue lingered on his lip, as if to make the pleasure last a second longer. But it just disgusted her even more, and he saw it on her appalled expression.

“But I prefer to say ‘blood’.”

“You’re lying...”

She took a step back, only for him to take two closer.

“The same blood that flows through your veins, right now. It keeps us alive. This is not a joke, estimated guest. We are vampires.”

She didn’t find it funny any more. Sebastian wasn’t trying to comfort her, they were just tormenting her at this point.

“Just… shut it, for a moment!”

True enough, this didn’t smell like any wine she’d seen before. If blood had to have a scent, it would have been what she smelled just now. But no one would go so far as to drink blood only for a stupid joke. Just the thought of it could make her throw up.

She brought a hand to her mouth, holding the other up as a sign that he shouldn’t approach her.

“I suppose le Comte kept from you the fact that we died once, too?”

“Actually, you ALL are supposed to be dead, like, from centuries ago! But fine, okay,” she retorted immediately, angrily throwing her hands in the air.

She showed her hands as a sign that she was giving up. If she had had a white handkerchief, she would have waved it as a peace-sign flag. It was no use fighting any more; they weren’t listening to her, she wasn’t listening to them, it was leading nowhere, and men could be very stubborn creatures when they intended to. To her to play the role of the good listening woman. She sat at the table, took a deep breath, gluing her hands to the wooden table. At least, this felt real under her hands. We can only trust you here, dear table.

Arthur sat in front of her, Sebastian hadn’t moved from his spot.

“And how did you all arrive here?”

“You asked this to M. le Comte, already.”

“I can still ask him, right? Or do I need the permission to?”

She didn’t mean to sound so rude, or even talk this badly to Sebastian, but things started to weight on her mind. If they took her right to speak as well, there would be nothing left of her to pass the door in a month.

“I do like that state of mind! That’s an interesting question! This could be the plot of a good story, to be honest.”

Bowing above the table to face her, holding his hands on the table, he knocked them once against it with a delighted smile.

“Le Comte came to each of us with an offer.”

“All of you?” she looked at Sebastian, who nodded as an answer.

“He came to each of us, individually, granting a new life to those who accepted.”

“New life… as…?”

“Vampires, yes. ‘I can grant you a taste of eternity. In exchange, you’ll loose your humanity and become a vampire.’”

She snorted. Le Comte really had a sense for the dramatic, didn’t he?

“That was his only condition.”

She was right to wonder who he was. Not only did he make them time-travel, but he also changed them completely. What for? And why would they accept this kind of deal?

“Why did you accept…?”

She looked at Sebastian, not even bothering to look at Arthur who seemed very eager to answer this question.

“I am very sorry, but I think this is getting awfully late to discuss this kind of things...” he swiped up the decanter, bottling it up, and looked at her. “M. le Comte was waiting for tomorrow to tell you about all of this.”

“Oh… Is… Is that so?”

“Hey, you couldn’t be robbing me of my fun, Sebas?”

_____________________

IV  >  I  >  ...

[barbecuedphoenix]

In the last oneshot/drabble you posted (which was very interesting and fun to read) you mentioned "Nevra fighting his dark instinct", do you have any headcanons on how he fights it during a long mission where he doesn't really have a variety of choices and his everyday life

As a matter of fact, I’ve got plenty of headcanons on Nevra livinglife as a vampire. ;) He’s not just a gorgeous man with pointy teeth and Spock-worthyears. So thanks for bringing this to my inbox, Anon.

Though technically, that lastrequest is a scenario: a really unrefined draft of a one-shot without properdialogue, action sequence, or description. But your thoughts are well and truly appreciated.^_^

(For anyone interested in reading that particular request, check it outhere. Warning: it’s shamelessly NSFW. Don’t take a cue from the characters andtry reading it in public.)  

Anyway. To answer your question, Anon, I like to imagine that Eldaryavampires still retain a few traits of traditional vampires from folklore… andthat there’s a valid reason for why they were feared by humans (and possibly more) back in the day.While Nevra has naturalized himself (very successfully) to El’s non-vampirecommunity, I won’t be surprised if it’s still an ongoing battle for him tooverride millions of years of evolution. And if so, he probably hopes in one corner of his psyche that his fans at HQ remain oblivious to some of hismost basic urges. Otherwise, where will he get his love?

…Because some of his most basic urges outside the bedroom aren’t very sexy by non-vampire standards.Thank you.  

Warning: What you’re about toread is at least 99% pure headcanon. Sadly, we still know zilch about the pure vampirelifestyle in El. :(

The Lure of Blood

To the average vampire, fresh blood sparks a powerful visceral reactionacross several levels: it stokes their appetite as a food source, fires theirlibido as a medium for sexual communion, and magnifies their senses as abiological meter for their own health and those around them– either friend,foe, or prey. If willingly provided by a clan-member or a longtime donor, thetaste of blood also fosters deep comfort and a sense of ‘home’. But if spilledfrom an enemy, a quarry, or themselves when they’re wounded, then the smell ofblood alone can trigger a berserker-worthy adrenaline rush. All this is theresult of millions of years of highly-specialized evolution, where blood advancedbeyond simple ‘food source’ to also become a medium for social affirmation, anda complex physical, sensory, and chemical language shared between predator, prey, and kin.

Not surprisingly, vampires encounter friction from other species who a.)don’t share the same evolutionary toolkit with blood, b.) keep culturallynarrow views on blood, and c.) have even less tolerance for blood-feeding (whichsome of them, understandably, still associate with being preyed on). Thiscultural clash is why vampires outside their clans typically avoid the medical,culinary, and military/mercenary professions, where blood contact happensfrequently and nervous non-vampires panic at seeing their eyes dilate at thefirst flash of red.  

None of this has discouraged Nevra though from joining the Shadow Guardof El, where spilled blood is an unfortunate but necessary feature of fieldwork. The main reason: he has a steely confidence in his own self-control, anarguably-stronger loyalty to El… and no small amount of pragmatism in adjustingor smoothing over his ancestral instincts whenever they flare to life. Afterall, he cares about winning his colleagues’ trust, even if– a few eons back–he would have called them his ‘dinner’ in a very literal sense. So he follows aset of strict personal protocols, starting with…

Rule #1: Stay Neat onthe Field

It’s not just because Nevra is vain about his appearance; reducing bloodcontact on the field helps minimize the risk of losing his focus.

Because if he smells a fatal or near-fatal volume of fresh blood concentrated in onearea, at close quarters, and in a hostile situation away from home, he’s hit by amassive adrenaline spike: his already-keen reaction times sharpen, his physicalstrength and speed double, and his immunity to pain stiffens into a veritablelayer of armor over his skin. The world– to him– suddenly becomes six timesmore vivid across all senses, with the passage of seconds seeming to stretchinto minutes. This might seem like a boon for a field agent– and Nevra infact has tapped into this adrenaline spike to close in on a frustrating target or escapelife-threatening situations– but it comes at the cost of abandoning allcaution to the wind: his ability to restrain himself and move tactically arereduced (if not temporarily suspended). And once his adrenaline spike ebbs, hemight physically collapse after spending all his bodily reserves. Worse still,receiving cuts and smelling his own blood actually increases his aggression and fighting resolve, instead of promotingthe instinct to escape. Thus, too much blood exposure in combat will actuallymake this vampire more bestial than cunning, more a berserker than anassassin… and more dead than a hero.

This is why Nevra avoids open battlefields: instead listening to thesounds of battle, and sniffing out blood at range to detect and circumvent thereal slaughter zones. (Then let someone much less reactive, like Valkyon, enterto clean up instead.) He also applies a healthy amount of stealth and guerillatactics to tip the scales in his favor, and thus end a confrontation quickly(or at least, leave himself openings to escape the fray if it becomes too messy).Especially for someone like him, there’s a time limit to how long he can remainin a skirmish. But if direct combat is inevitable, he resorts to daggers only if heneeds to attack at range and/or subdue a very dangerous foe, otherwise takingthem down with bloodless judo(style) kicks, joint locks (or snaps), and whisper-silentnerve strikes.

It’s no light matter for him to whip out the daggers. When he does, he knows he has tofollow…

Rule #2: Be a Gentlemanwith Your Knife

The easiest solution to avoid the vampire blood-frenzy is to not spill blood in a fray. Right?

Well in Nevra’s book, the answer isn’t quite so simple: a sharp knife ismore precise, more concealable, and more merciful than a heavy bludgeoninginstrument. Also, heavier fights can be averted by a little psychologicalmeddling… like smiling at them when holding a dagger at their throat. Few thingsunnerve non-vampires more than spilling blood in front of a piqued vampire onfull sensory alert. They don’t knowhis steely restraint over himself; they can only assume that there’s realpredatory intent in the gleam of his eye, the flaring of his nostrils, and theway he sometimes licks his lips at them, flashing the points of his fangs thatmight just be sharper than that blade.  

But. On the occasions whenhe does have to use the knife, Nevra stillabides by a code of conduct bred into his bones by his own people, and temperedfurther by (many) years of training: respect your prey and don’t allow them tosuffer for long. Kill with as few strikes as possible, as cleanly as possible.And when it’s done, leave the body in peace as soon as you can. Beneath themoral rhetoric though, this practice helps to minimize the gore on thebattlefield that will trigger the infamous blood-frenzies, and automaticallydistances the executioner from what blood continues to flow from the fatalwound. As well as from vindictive enemy clan-members, who’ll come flying in atsmelling the death of their kin on the wind.

There is a very realevolutionary benefit with being able to scent blood from over a quarter mileaway: it’s to be able to track your quarry, or find your clan members who’re indire need of your help. And if Nevra does find a ‘clan’ member (i.e. any of hiscolleagues in El) who’s missing a few scraps of skin at least, he knows he hasto adhere to…

Rule #3: Be Discreet inTouching the Wounded  

Contrary to popular belief, the sight of a fresh wound does not arouse vampires all the time; themethod of skin penetration makes all the difference to the vampire brain. So ifNevra spies telltale toothmarks– or needle-like marks, at least– on the skin,he instinctively grows both hungry and aroused. (After all, this is the vampireequivalent of watching someone walk out of the bedroom, sans underwear.) But if something else has broken the skin– leaving aninjury–, a sense of distress pulls him hard to port instead, all sexual and feedinginstincts automatically capped by an urge to help: in other words, he reactslike any other sentient species does when encountering the wounded.

To most vampires, the difference between a fresh wound from a bite and afresh wound from a knife is as stark as the difference between a naked andaroused person, and a naked and terrified person. And it’s just as lurid asight. Even under his dismay and his overriding drive to help, Nevra won’t beable to help feeling acutely conscious of the victim’s body, what with thesmell of fresh blood lying thick on his palate and already waking his salivaryglands, his senses automatically piqued and tingling on high alert.

Still, it’s a matter of honor not to even stare. So when treating a fresh wound, he wills himself to enter a detached,clinical state of mind, focusing on only the depth of the wound, its chances ofinfection or contamination by poison, the chances of recovery, and especiallywhat pain it’s currently causing the victim. And he’ll minimize direct skincontact with their blood out of respect, then wash his hands afterwards: bloodin this case can’t be treated as a sexual communion, no more than a surgeon canlust after a patient on their operating table. Doing otherwise would be a gross impropriety. If amongother vampires though, Nevra might do a clinical smell of the bloodsample to check for signs of poison, disease, and so forth; that’ll be the limitof his direct contact.

Notall blood that’s spilled by the body is harmful, per se. So when Nevra catchesthat telltale tang of iron in the air athome, he knows he has to follow…

Rule #4: Watch Your StepWhen Blood is Spilled at Home

Back in the clan, blood is spilled in small increments on a regularbasis: it’s equal parts social exchange, sexual exchange, health check, andsnack. The usual shenanigans of a sociable house. So it took Nevra a short, butsobering period of adjustment in his early days in El to realize that blood spilledin a non-vampire home might mean somethingmore serious. And then he realized a new level to his parental instincts:now every snatch of blood he smells at HQ carries at least a 50% chance of trouble,far higher than it ever was where he grew up.

Still, he can’t afford to knock down doors to investigate, not withoutseriously alarming– and potentially embarrassing– his colleagues (who have noidea how he knows they’re bleeding, from across HQ). Instead,he has to play the off-duty detective whenever his infamous nose is triggered,stepping carefully between inquiry and eavesdropping.

Nevra has already learnt to give the infirmary a wide berth whenever he scents blood coming from thatvicinity; blood is to be expected there, and it’s under Ewelein’s jurisdiction. The line isn’t quite so clear though whenever thatsmell emanates from the barracks or showers. Fortunately, this is where being aspymaster comes in handy: it’s never too hard to get the ‘unofficial’ healthrecords he needs. (Gossip, when enough is collected from many sources, saysplenty.) And in case he needs to confirm a few murky facts for himself, he’llmake a series of ‘casual’ strolls through the area to pinpoint the precisesource of the smell (which he won’t mention to anyone just yet). If he traces it to a female recruit’sdoor or shower stall, and listens in to find the occupant isn’t under any particulardistress– or might even be enjoying the company of a first-time partner–,then he keeps walking. Maybe with a ghost of a smile.

One of the consequences ofhaving a vampire’s sense of smell is that feminine biology has given up itssecrets to Nevra long ago. He’s fine with it.

None of the vampire folklore I’ve found mentions anything about why they need blood/qi/life-force/etc., beyond the catch-all explanation that it’s because the undead don’t quite like being dead. (And that biting the neck is a disturbing way to combine sex with death.) 

So I jumped off in a different direction entirely: what evolutionary benefits might a taste for blood offer, for a live species that enjoys necking each other?

…All right, I might have gone overboard again with spinning vampire headcanons. That’s bio-anthropology for you. :/

(Though if you’re interested in reading aboutthe more romantic side to blood-drinking, check out the equally-overboard analysis/headcanon forNevra here.)

Regardless, please read, enjoy (hopefully), and review. Any and allfeedback is appreciated. :)