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zahneundklauen-retired · 4 years ago

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The Only Thing To Fear Is Fog Itself || Rio and Alcher

TIMING: Current PARTIIES: @3starsquinn and @zahneundklauen SUMMARY: A hunter and a wolf’s worst nightmares collide. CONTENT: Death mention, PTSD, Blood, Slight gore

With the fishy smell hanging in the air, and with the strange things happening around town, Alcher was prepped to head into her woods and see what she could discover. Following her nose would be easy enough-- the foul smell that hung in the air seemed to be everywhere, but it got stronger the farther she waded into the woods. It became almost overwhelming. Her heightened sense of smell often benefited her, but it sometimes became too much. Her vision had been fading fast the past few years, but she was still capable of seeing enough. So when her line of sight became ragged and blurred, she knew something was up. She hadn't’ been walking long, but as she did, the fog became thicker and thicker. This was not normal. These trees shared their lands with the Canadian wilds, and Alcher knew those better than anyone here, she supposed. Perhaps most in Canada as well. Fog like this was not natural. There was not enough moisture, not enough bodies of water to produce it. She paused.

A twig snapped.

Alcher’s head turned quickly in the direction of it. Laughter reached her ears next. She watched a shadowed form race by in the fog, disappearing quickly. “Wait!” Alcher called out, following after. “Are you lost?” who was out here? They were familiar, but she couldn’t figure out why. “Come back!” the laughter came from her left this time. Alcher paused, confused. “Hey!” she called out, this time in her native tongue. Hurried along down the path, as fast as her still healing leg would carry her. “Wait, where are yo--” But in the next moment, from out of the fog, came another form. A solid one, and she collided with it, hard. Her powerful stance kept her standing, but the other went tumbling. Alcher rubbed her chest where they collided and glared down at the very human smelling boy. “Who are you?”

Making poor decisions seemed to be a common occurrence for Orion now. Coupled with his affinity for hearing strange noises in the woods and investigating them, it was a miracle that Rio hadn’t ended up dead yet. Despite his seemingly unwavering fascination with them, Rio hated these woods. He had avoided them for the majority of his life. Only finally venturing into them once he had to in order to get to the Scribrary. The town was deadly enough, the woods even more so. Knowing what he knew about the supernatural, Rio could only imagine what all lurked in those woods. And what lost souls haunted it. The thought sent tingles down his spine. Yet despite all of these logical concerns and fears that should have sent him running away from the place, his hearing picked up on something out in the distance. If it was someone in trouble, Rio couldn’t just ignore that.

He was full of self doubt and regret. That only multiplied once the fog started filling the area. It had come out of seemingly nowhere, enveloping Rio from all directions quickly and thickening just as fast. Something was definitely wrong here. His hearing went haywire, picking up on subtle sounds and hushed voices. Rio was trembling, walking as lightly as he could as to not attract too much attention from whatever or whoever was causing this. His mind began racing, combing through hundreds of thousands of text as his mind tried to remember anything about a supernatural fog. But nothing came to mind right away, and his focus scattered immediately when he collided with something alive.

Rio fell to the ground screaming, the sudden company taking him more than a little bit by surprise. His elbows caught his fall, jamming against the ground and used to push himself away from the potential threat. When Rio’s heart rate stopped racing Rio realized that the person standing above him, a woman that Rio did not quite recognize, had asked him a question. “Oh uh right. Me. I’m me. I mean I’m Rio.” He jumbled his words before finally answering her and working to climb back up on his feet. “Sorry I scare easily. Clearly. You happen to have any idea what is going on here?” His fear at the sudden appearance had almost disguised the more than familiar tingling sensation that ran across his body. But eventually he realized that this was just like how he felt around Ariana or Layla. He slyly glanced around them. If these two were the only ones here, it was safe to assume that this woman was a werewolf.

The human was so...small. Alcher knew that most humans were feeble, but the one she’d run into looked somehow smaller than most. He was scrunched in on himself, as if he were afraid of the very air that others breathed around him. It was pathetic. Her brow scrunched together and she moved around him, ignoring his question for the moment. The air still smelled of must and condensation and fish. She recoiled. “None,” she finally answered, looking back to him. “How did you get out here? Did you follow someone? Did you see anyone else?” Because she was certain she had seen someone. Her eyesight might have been failing her, but she knew, without a doubt, someone else was out here with them. Or, perhaps...something else. Moving away from the human, she closed her eyes, listening again. Only to be interrupted by his footsteps and scrambling to stand. Irritated, she turned back on him. “Quiet,” she hissed, “we are not alone.”

Okay, so the woman wasn’t the friendliest person that he had ever met. Though considering the situation, Orion could give her a pass for not being eager for conversation. She began asking him questions, too many at once for him to answer coherently. His words felt jumbled, his tongue still caught from the stress and fear of the situation. “Uh- I heard a noise in the woods. And I was worried someone may be lost or in trouble so I came. But then this weird fog started building and-” He was cut off from talking soon after, the woman’s voice curt and demanding. It instantly silenced him, despite not understanding why he was being shut up since she had asked him the questions. Still, he obeyed and she informed him that the two weren’t alone here apparently. Rio had just assumed the noises he had heard had come from her and that the fear of being stalked was now gone. But as Rio tried to stare in the direction that she was looking, a shadow passed by in his peripheral vision. His hunter instincts kicked in quickly, his body jumping back onto his feet in a quiet flash. Far more efficient than he had been able to without the adrenaline rush. His senses were going haywire, picking up on every little sound or change in vision. He couldn’t tell if it was paranoia or if there were actually things happening all around them. “We should probably go right? Like we need to go.”

There it was again, that laughter. Alcher stiffened, but the boy kept moving. Kept jumping around. Kept talking. She swivelled on her heels again, glowering at him. “Will you be quie--” but her voice was cut off when she saw a familiar shadow. “Kleine schewster,” said the familiar voice. There was a familiar smell. But how? Alcher pushed the boy aside, ignoring him again. She headed straight into the fog, where the voice had come from. She didn’t even notice the world going dark around her, the multitude of eyes springing up around them, as if formed by the fog itself. The sound of her footsteps almost disappeared, to the human ear, she wasn’t even there. Fog circled her legs, swallowing her feet. “Klaus?” she called out tentatively. “Klaus, sind sie das?”

Orion was definitely being ignored. Whether that was from the stress of the situation or the woman was just not very talkative, Rio couldn’t be sure. But whatever the case, Rio definitely got the feeling that he was talking too much. It was all but confirmed when the woman turned on him suddenly and began trying to shut him up. But instead she was distracted by something that seemed to catch her attention, but Rio spun around and didn’t catch anything himself. Suddenly the woman was off, her movements swift and quiet. Rio followed along as best he could, figuring despite her less than warm welcome the two might be better off to stick together. Suddenly, the woman was calling out a name. Someone that she was looking for out in the woods? Was it what had grabbed her attention? He hadn’t seen anything. German wasn’t one of Rio’s stronger languages, but her phrase was simple enough to pick up on. “Is that who?” Rio found himself asking despite her willingness to ignore him and apparent annoyance by the sound of his voice, “You’re looking for someone named Klaus?” Rio sighed, still picking up nothing that suggested another person being around here. But he felt a sudden chill against the back of his neck as if something had rubbed up against him and his entire body tenses. He waited too long before finally spinning around, finding nothing but thick fog behind him. In the distance, he heard what sounded like a woman screaming, but it felt so far away. What the heck was going on?

“Don’t say his name!” Alcher snapped, turning on the boy again. He looked so small and frightened. Another laugh through the fog made Alcher turn away from him quickly, looking into the fog. “Klaus! It’s me!” she called out again, stumbling forward. Fog closed in behind her and when she turned to look back, the boy was gone. Blinking, Alcher felt a chill run up her back. Someone was watching her. She felt the hair on her arms bristle and her muscles tensed. “Who’s there!?” she growled quietly, reaching down slowly for the iron knife she’d claimed as her prize for killing that hunter. The one with the fae child. While she loathed human weapons, knives came in handy. Especially when she knew changing would be a bad idea. With someone watching her, they were bound to see. She turned in a circle, but nothing. Dark figures danced just outside of her peripheral vision as she did, but-- nothing. “Show yourself!” she shouted. “Cowards!” Another twig snapped. Alcher swerved on her feet. The knife was flying through the air.

It thudded into a tree next to the human boy’s head.

The noises were overwhelming. Orion couldn’t even tell what they were. His own fears were drowned out by the woman’s anger. A vehement insistence to not say Klaus’ name. Whoever he was, things must not have ended well. The screaming grew, both from the woman he could see and the voices from outside the fog. She seemed to hear a familiar voice, someone that she recognized immediately. So what was Rio hearing? Why did he get these agonizing cries for help instead? Rio covered his ears, but it did little to drown out the cries. Rio backed away, tripping over something and falling backwards into a tree. A glint of light and the whistling sound of metal was the only warning Rio had to push himself off of the tree, a knife just barely missing his head. Rio glanced towards the woman in shock. He grabbed ahold of the knife and ran his thumb across it. Iron. What would a werewolf be doing with a knife made of pure iron? “Listen I don’t know what you’re hearing or what- that was,” Rio began, his voice still shaking from nearly being impaled, “But this fog isn’t normal. Something’s wrong: we need to find a way out.”

Alcher went to grab the knife from the tree, but another hand grabbed hers. It was charred to a crisp. Melted skin clinging to muscle and bone. Alcher knew whose hand it was before she even looked up. “Why did you leave us, Al?” Klaus asked her. “You killed us.” Alcher screamed, yanking her hand away. Went to shove him as well, but he was gone. She stumbled back, looked at the boy. “What-- did you do that?” she rounded on him, a fist digging into his shirt. Teeth clenched. “Tell me now, boy! Are these your tricks, witch?” she growled, raising a fist to him-- but another voice caught her attention. She dropped the boy and looked around wildly again. This time, she came face to face with someone she hadn’t thought about in a long time. “You killed me, Alcher,” came her old mate’s voice. He was standing just beyond her reach, blood pouring from the gaping wound in his neck. The wound she’d given him. “I loved you,” he said and blood dribbled from his mouth onto the ground, “I thought you loved me, too.” Alcher lashed out, expecting the apparition to disappear again-- but this time, her hand hit something solid and she heard a crunch as her fist went through his chest. White smoke curled around her arm, pouring from his wound. She looked up at him, horrified. “Your turn,” he said, and reached up to grab her.

The screaming was growing louder, a mixture of voices that Orion could finally pick out the louder that it grew to him. One by one, the voices switched in and out. Blanche. Winston. Ariana. Athena. The list went on. They were guttural screams, tragic and blood curdling. It was the sound of them dying, as if something was hacking away at them at that very moment while Rio could do nothing by crushing his ears between his palms in a futile attempt to drown out the sound. The screaming broke when Rio was suddenly grabbed and lifting him from the ground. The woman with him was furious. Clearly blaming whatever was happening on him. But her grabbing him had broken the sound of the screams and cries from earlier at least. That had been the minimal good news in the sea of bad. “I didn’t- I’m not-” Rio began, but how could he prove he wasn’t a witch? Especially when what he actually was was so much worse. “I don’t know what’s happening either! I-” He was suddenly dropped onto the ground as the woman spun. There was a vision, one that Rio could clearly see. A man on the brink of death as it looked, with a nasty neck wound. She was moving towards him. Slowly, but surely. “Hey! Don’t do that!” Rio tried to call, but his voice must not be breaking through. He picked up the knife that the woman had thrown at him minutes ago and pulled himself up. If her grabbing him could break the illusion, then Rio could do something to help her, right? He ran up behind her, just as the illusion was reaching towards her and swung the knife at the illusion, disrupting the figure into smoke and then using his free hand to shake the woman, “We need to go. Please!”

The apparition disappeared with the swipe of a blade. Alcher reeled back. No, that wasn’t right. He’d been real, he’d felt real. She pressed her palms to her eyes, staggering in her spot. She felt pain shoot up her leg again as she applied too much pressure to the broken one. The boy was yelling at her to do something. She wrenched her hands away and looked down at him, and for a moment, all she saw was Klaus. He was a young boy again, looking up at her. And then slowly, his flesh began to melt away, dripping from his skeleton. Alcher screamed and hurled the boy away, toppling to the forest floor herself. Fog curled up around her and it felt heavy somehow. It pressed into her and stung at her skin, as if it were alive. Slowly, it began to consume her body. She pressed against the ground with all her might, but it felt like there was simply a weighted blanket thrown on top her. “Help me!” she called out desperately. She could hear Klaus’s voice, telling her to run. Telling her to hide. In the chimney, he’d said. You’ll be safe from the fire there. Don’t come out until everyone’s gone. “I’m sorry!” she cried out, feeling her body begin to shake. “Klaus! I’m sorry! You told me to run! You told me to save myself! I wanted to come back for you!” sobs wracking her throat as she gave in to the nightmare the fog was drowning her in. “I wanted to come back for you but I was a coward!”

It was the pain. Orion had figured that much out. This fog was messing with their heads. It wasn’t just normal fog. It had magic to it. Something sentient and something sinister. It wasn’t just dredging up visions, it was targeting them. For the woman it seemed to be pulling a very specific memory. For Rio it was the people closest to him dying. The sinking feeling that he was responsible for it. It was torturing them. Driving them into a further madness until one of them broke. Rio didn’t know what came after that, and he didn’t want to find out. But for Rio, the pain was enough to break the visions. He was reminded of that as the woman shoved him away again, the voices that kept closing in around him disappearing when Rio’s back collided with the ground. The wind was knocked out of him, and he laid there for too long. The voices began seeping back in, but when Rio opened his eyes he found that the fog had taken it even further. Decayed bodies, vaguely resembling those that Rio cared about rested just within view of the fog. The flesh was rotting, a mixture of mud and blood caking the bodies and little more than ratted hair to distinguish between the figures. Rio instantly felt sick, the combination of the sight and voices too much. It only got worse when the neck of the figures began turning in unison, all slowly shifting until they were looking directly at Rio. With a gasp, Rio stopped breathing all together, hooking his palm over his mouth out of fear. Slowly, arms started to move, boney fingers digging into the soil and dragging them forward and towards Rio. Rio sat upwards, crawling backward to get away. His hands caught rocks and roots on his way, slowing his progress as the bodies slowly sped up and inched closer and closer to him. It was the pain. Rio reminded himself. He needed to focus on something else. Anything else. The figures were too close now, the former body of a blonde grabbed onto his ankle proving that he was out of time. He shoved his eyes shut and grabbed onto his finger, taking a deep breath before forcing the finger backwards. There was a sickening crunch followed by instantaneous pain. Rio cried out into his arm, trying to muffle his yelping in an attempt to calm the pain. But when Rio finally peaked an eye open, the figures were gone. And falling out of view, the woman was almost gone too. “No, no, no” Rio mumbled to himself over and over again, forcing himself up and towards the woman. If pain worked for him, maybe it could work for her too? He found her against the ground and Rio fell to his knees beside her. “I’m sorry,” He tried warning before pulling his hand back and slapping her with everything his hunter strength could muster.

Pain rippled through Alcher’s face as her head whipped to the side. Blood leaked from her mouth, the rich, iron taste filling her mouth. She had felt pain a lot in her life-- it was, in fact, a very large part of her life. Her father had used it both as a tool of punishment and as a tool of encouragement. Punishment when they misbehaved or went against pack custom. Encouragement when they pushed themselves to their brinks and learned from their mistakes. Pain was just a tool. Pain made someone stronger. But this pain, this pain that tore through her face and shook her to her core and woke her from the foggy nightmare, it was not the same. It was chilling. It made her body jerk and her mind topple and when she finally had the wherewithal to turn her head back to look at the boy, her eyes were filled with knowing. The strength with which he had struck her was not human. She did not hear his muttered apology and she did not care to. Hands reached up, grabbing onto the lapels of his shirt, fingers curling so tightly she felt her nails tear the cloth. Teeth cracking as they grew longer, sharper. Her uncontrollable anger manifesting, bringing the monster out. “Jäger!” she growled, trying to stand. But she found both her feet could not support her weight, her broken leg surging with pain and her prosthetic leg unable to grip the wet, forest floor. “You did this!” The fog began to unfurl around them, but she barely noticed.

For what it was worth, it mostly seemed like the slap had worked, though he had maybe put a bit too much force into it. When the woman looked back over at him, a bit dazed but unmistakably angry, Rio saw and smelled the blood. “Crap. I’m sorry I didn’t mean for that-” He was cut off again, a pretty common occurrence tonight, by the woman grabbing onto his shirt and pulling it tight. Against the tight grip, Rio was finding it hard to catch his breath. But the woman didn’t seem bothered by this. Her teeth were elongating, becoming sharper and more dangerous while Rio was completely immobile too close to them. “No! No. Uh- Nein.” Rio’s voice was hoarse but insistent, “I am not a hunter.” Not by trade at least. “I don't even have a weapon. And I didn’t do this. I’m seeing stuff just like you. But the pain helped me break free from it!” He held up his broken finger as proof, still cradling it with his other hand. “Something’s wrong with your leg. Are you okay?” Rio redirected his questioning, noticing the way that she was struggling to get back to her feet.

Alcher didn’t know what to trust anymore. Her own senses were failing her, and her mind was reeling with questions. Slowly, she turned her head to gaze around. Looked at her hands gripping the boy’s shirt and saw-- blood? She pulled her hand away and opened it slowly. Red on her palm. She dropped him and began brushing leaves aside on the ground. And-- there. His blood. Cain’s blood, her old mate. Alcher swallowed. Or was it Klaus’s? She looked back at her hands and more blood stained them, covering her fingertips. Red and redder and more. Closed her eyes hard, concentrated on the pain, like the boy had said. She drew in a deep breath. “I cannot trust my eyes,” she said in a shaky tone, “if we are to make it out of this, I need you to guide me. I will be your shield, you will be my eyes.” With eyes still closed, she held out her hand to the boy. Hesitated, then said, “I will spare your life if you do this for me.”

Perhaps the only thing that saved Orion from being gutted was another vision. The woman saw something on her hands, but Rio couldn’t see it himself. The fog, whatever was behind it, worked in mysterious ways. Sometimes the vision and noises manifested for both of them and sometimes it was specific. Either way, it was more than enough to strike fear in the hearts of anybody it seemed. “Guide you? I don’t know, I mean… I don’t know if my own eyes can be-” Rio cut off when Alcher finished her sentence, more or less giving the boy an ultimatum. Rio backtracked, “Oh right uh yes. Well I mean, with a deal like that I guess I really can’t say no, huh?” Against the dire situation, Rio found himself nervously laughing as he wondered whether the fog or this woman was more deadly. “Okay. You got it. Just grab onto my arm.” Rio met her hand and felt hers wrap tightly around his arm. Rio looked around, knowing that the fog couldn’t be trusted. He found a spot within the fog that seemed lighter than the others. A welcoming path that Rio decided the two should avoid at all costs. Instead, Rio faced the spot where it seemed thickest, where he could barely see inches in front of him and started towards it. It didn’t take long before the voices started again. This time they were closer than they had been before, seemingly coming from right next to him. The words were hostile this time, angry hisses and insults shouting into his ear and making Rio jump whenever they appeared. It was starting to feel like voices were solid objects, curling up around his body and enveloping him whole. “The voices are back.” Rio warned, trying to ignore them, “I can’t focus. I need you to tighten your grip. To keep me distracted.”

“Ignore them,” Alcher snapped, as if it were as simple as that. As if she hadn’t fallen victim to this insidious fog herself. She complied in squeezing the boy’s arm tighter, nails digging in. “Focus on the pain,” she said, repeating her own father’s words. She could hear Klaus’s voice still calling in her ear. You let us die. She strained against it, bit her tongue, tasted the blood. She clenched harder. Focused harder. “Let the pain guide you, give you control.” As they walked, she listened, beyond Klaus’s voice, to her own footsteps, to the boy’s footsteps. Her the crunch of leaves, listened to the echo of their bodies. “Wait,” she said, stopping. Something ahead passed by them. She turned the boy in another direction. “That way. We’re close.” She could hear the edge of the forest beyond them, to where cars screamed on roads and metallic buzzing followed her everywhere. “Do not stop now.”

The woman’s response was scary enough to force Orion to listen, even if the request was far easier said than done. But she complied with Rio’s request, for better or worse. The pressure on Rio’s arm tightened, squeezing tight enough to cut off the circulation. As the woman’s nail pressed against his skin, he was fairly sure they were cutting into it. Focus on the pain. He was all too familiar with that phrase. He had told himself that so many times over the years. Sometimes it was easier to focus on than his parents. The pain helped keep the visions at bay, but focusing too much on it took away from his other senses. Luckily, the woman noticed something for him, shifting his pace and changing their path. He kept going, the fog getting thicker and thicker until it looked like Rio was about to run face first into a completely solid object. “I hear noises.” Rio perked up, the faint sounds of cars whistling by enough to elicit a triumphant leap in Rio’s heart rate. He picked up his pace, pushing farther and farther forward into the unseeable until finally the fog began to dissipate around them, thinning out until Rio could finally make out trees again. “I think we’re towards the edge.”

They kept walking, even as the fog parted and trees came back into vision. Alcher kept her eyes screwed shut, even as Klaus continued to whisper in her ear. She didn’t even notice the hot tears streaking down her face, despite how hard she’d screwed her eyes shut. When she heard the call of birds and the smell of dirt and wet leaves reached her nose, she finally, finally opened her eyes. They were out, but behind them, the fog seemed to be creeping its way toward them again. “Keep moving,” she said, but let go of her tight grip, dragging him along through the trees as she limped, painfully, against her broken leg, until they broke through the tree line and metal and tar joined the scent of the air. Panting, she let go of his arm and leaned against the fence post, gripping her chest hard. She did not look at the boy, shame wrought in her bones. She’d let a hunter help her, save her and her heart felt like solid plaster. After a long moment, she rasped out the word, “Leave,” and looked at him with sharp eyes from the side of her gaze, “leave before I change my mind about sparing you.”

Orion had never been so happy to get out of those woods. And that was actually saying something considering he had suffered more than his fair share of traumatic experiences out in this forest. But that fog was something else entirely. It had been sentient, feeding on their fears and insecurities in order to lead it deeper and deeper into its clutches. Rio had no idea what would have waited for them at the end. Would they have just wandered until their bodies came out? Or was there something even more sinister waiting in the fog waiting to catch its prey? Either way, Rio had no intentions on sticking around and risking the fog moving back towards them. The woman let his arm go and Rio held it gingerly, nursing the bruised and sore part from her tight grip. Blood had dried across his arm, dripping down from where she had dug her nails into his skin. “I’m not what you think I am.” Rio tried to defend himself, but it came out as more of a mumble than anything definite. Maybe it was because he wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince her or himself. Rio didn’t want to leave. He wanted to make sure she was okay and make sure she knew that he was different than whatever hunters she had experience with. But from the look on Rio’s face, he wasn’t sure that he could convince her that he was different. If he were to stay for too long and not take advantage of her offer, she may absolutely kill him. “I-” He couldn’t think of anything else to say. Instead he crossed his arms, nursing the bruised one on top of the other and nodded, “Thanks.”

“Leave,” Alcher said with finality. She sunk to a sit by the post, rubbing her leg as pain shot up and down her calf. She needed to soak in hot water and some epsom salt, get another salve on her leg. What she didn’t need, was to pander this hunter anymore. She ran her hands through her hair, didn’t acknowledge his thanks. Whatever had happened in that fog, it would stay between them. “Tell no one what happened here,” she said after a long moment, before he walked off. She waited for him to leave, made sure his scent was far off, before she hoisted herself back up on a shaking leg and let out a long sigh. The trek home would be long, but it was doable. She turned to head off-- but out of the corner of her eye, a figure leaned in and Klaus whispered in her ear, “Hello, little sister.”

Yet when she turned, there was no one in sight.

#chatzy #wickedswriting #chatzy: orion #the only thing to fear is fog itself #orion #tw death mention

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big-bad-ulf · 4 years ago

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Untethered || Ulfric & Luce

Location: Dell’s Tavern

Timing: Before the last full moon

Tagging: @big-bad-ulf and @divineluce

Content: Family death mentions, thoughts/discussion of self-harming behaviors, alcohol abuse

Description: Ulfric and Luce lower their guard after a night of drinking and have a more successful heart-to-heart about their respective losses. If swearing loyalty to each other’s revenge plots can be considered a ‘success’

Grabbing the next round of beers from the bar, Luce walked back to the high top table she and Ulf were sitting at in the corner of Dell’s. The noise of the tavern was a comforting sound to her-- the roar of sports games playing on the screens in lieu of a band playing music. Balancing the two large steins of beer in her hands, Luce slid one across the table to Ulf and took her seat across from him. Lifting the large glass up in his direction, she gave him a slightly unsteady grin She’d matched him drink for drink which would have been fine… if he wasn’t a beast of a man. In a literal sense. Werewolf metabolism had to do something for processing alcohol. Whereas she was decidedly neither of those things. Taking a long drink from her glass, she nodded a bit more emphatically than she normally would, “When you’re right, you’re right. This German stuff is pretty fucking good.” Setting the glass back down, she idly pressed the back of her forearm against the glass, pressing one of her bruises to the cold surface.

Walking into Dell's this time had felt disconcerting, the place familiar yet slightly foreign after his prolonged absence. While both Bennets and Layla had resided under his roof Ulfric had always needed to be on watch, always needed a clear head. Now that threat was gone and there was no one waiting up for him, so he was free to unwind, the buzz of activity and alcohol keeping him from dwelling for too long on how that change in situation came to pass. "Those American light beers have no taste, they practically go down like water." Ulfric insisted as he took a long drink from the stein Luce place in front of him, repeating the argument he'd made several times throughout the night with increasing conviction as the beverages kicked in. "That's new, since I saw you last," He mentioned, casting a glance down at the bruised arm she pressed against the glass, the observation that he'd usually keep to himself finding its way out past his lowered inhibitions. "Did sword training get a little hands on?" He continued, providing a half-hearted out as an apology for stepping slightly over the line they'd drawn regarding talking about each other's personal bullshit. "I wouldn't have thought that would be allowed. Doesn't it defeat the purpose of, well, swords?"

“Yeah, yeah, American beer sucks, Budlight is basically pisswater, Coors may as well be La Croix of beer.” Luce said before drinking deeply from her mug, letting the cold carbonation rush down her throat. The bar around her was just a little fuzzy at the edges, which was just how she wanted it. Made things easier, to see it through a filter like this. And there was no better filter than a beer or four. Glancing down at her bruised forearm, as though she didn’t realize what he was talking about, Luce shrugged. Adam had fucked her up. Granted, she knew he’d been holding back-- Hunter strength and all that jazz. If he had wanted to, he could have broken her arm, broken her ribs without even trying. But, even with the pulled punches, she was still sore and bruised all over. Which was exactly what she wanted. “Nah, me and a dude beat the shit out of each other in the woods.” She said, the truth slipping out easily over the rim of her stein. “No swords involved, otherwise I probably would be really fucked up.” She said with a laugh. Training swords, even synthetic training blades, were still weapons. Still dangerous. Still very capable of knocking out teeth and breaking bone. It was a good fucking thing they’d stuck to hand to hand.

“Yes, it’s all fun and games until someone gets stabbed, I suppose.” Ulfric tried to match her laugh, to restore the bubble of alcohol-infused levity that had previously surrounded them, but it was a little strangled and forced. Somehow he seemed to have crossed the threshold between contentedly tipsy and sad, wallowing drunk, creeping over the line between the two without realizing it. Though in fairness to himself, with the way his vision was slightly blurring it would’ve been difficult to see it. “That sounds like the sort of thing I would do, the woods part, especially,” The werewolf conceded, he could hardly just her for brawling, but it just didn’t fit her style. With her powers, as he understood them, no one should’ve been able get near her, at least without risking a fiery retaliation. Which meant something was wrong, or she’d let herself get hurt, which was even more wrong. “I don’t get why you let this guy touch you without inflicting severe burn damage to his balls. It just doesn’t seem like you, Luce.” He found himself voicing his thoughts aloud, before sighing and running an agitated hand through his hair once he realized what he has said, how he’d skirted their rules again. “Faen, sorry… I know I promised, but it’s not funny for me to see or think about you being in pain.”

“I dunno, a good stabbing makes it all the more fun.” Luce said with a wry grin, not noticing the forced tone that her boss’ voice had taken on. With another large gulp of beer, she looked at her stein for a moment-- fuck, how was it already half empty? Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Luce focused on her boss as the world began to tip pleasantly from side to side. Or maybe her head was wobbling? Uncertain. “It was a good time.” She replied, though the smile that had remained on her face slipped slightly as Ulfric spoke again. A lump formed in the back of her throat at his words and she stared at the rim of her glass for a moment. The thought of her being in pain? It… fuck, it sounded melodramatic even in her head but… ever since Bea had died, her life had been nothing but fucking pain. The worst kind of pain. The pain of the soul, the pain of losing someone who she had spent much of her life relying on. It was the sort of pain that came with agonizing numbness that she would do anything to get rid of. Including fighting Adam in the woods. For a brief moment, Luce contemplated telling Ulfric to fuck off. To mind his own business, that she had this under control. But did she? Was any of this “under control?” Swallowing, Luce looked at him, “Sometimes hurting feels better than not feeling at all. It helps to feel a different kind of pain.” One I deserve.

Ulfric had fully expected a rebuff, so when Luce didn’t dodge the question he was thrown off-kilter. The sensation reminded him of when his parents had first been teaching him how to track and he’d misjudged his footing, expecting solid ground but suddenly finding himself falling. As it was then, this was unknown territory he found himself in, and he’d be wise to tread carefully. But both ‘wisdom’ and ‘caution’ were concepts that had become unappealing and difficult to comprehend several drinks ago. “If you truly felt nothing underneath all this, you wouldn’t have to work so hard to cover it up.” He countered bluntly instead. “And what is that work getting you? Bottle things up and the best-case scenario is they stay trapped that way, and things stay the way they are.” He took a long swig of his beer and contemplated the container it came in as he spoke, as if some deep truth lay within it. “More likely they spill out when you don’t want them to, or explode, and you’ve got a predisposition towards the more fiery outcome.” The image of the cup of coffee boiling over in her hand flashed through his mind, an inopportune and involuntary manifestation of the power she kept inside. He could relate to that, even if he didn’t understand the nuances of how her magic worked. “It… can help to let whatever you’re feeling flow through you on your own terms,” he found himself offering her the advice he’d often given less experienced werewolves intent on repressing their more primal impulses. “Though I’d expect yours would be different to mine.” She couldn’t rely on the moon to help her through releasing whatever negative energies were eating her up inside, but she could rely on his support, if she wanted it.

Taking another long drink from her glass, Luce mulled over his words. Part of her wanted to lash out at him-- what did he know about her pain? What did he know about how she felt? How could he even think to understand what she was going though? But, that was just the thing, she realized. He didn’t know. He didn’t know what was happening. All he knew was that she’d been… fucked up. Had been acting out, hadn’t been showing up to work, or had been throwing herself into things harder than she should have. All he knew was that she was spiralling. Fuck. Letting out a sigh, she set the glass down, the alcohol and mixed emotions churning in her stomach. She didn’t want to tell him. She didn’t want to make her burdens his. She didn’t want to show this side of weakness to him. But, another side of Luce wanted to tell him everything. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could do this. How much longer could she hold onto the burden of her sister’s death, the responsibility of her resurrection, the fear and self-doubt that threatened to bring her to her knees. “I…” Luce took in a deep breath. “Yeah, yeah, it might.” She said, digging her fingers into her arm, pressing hard into the floral designs etched into her skin. “Someone killed my sister. Bea.” Saying the words out loud, it felt just like it had the night she’d told Remmy what had happened. A tidal wave of emotion, guilt, sadness, anger, but most of all pain-- it all rushed over her. Luce gripped her fingers tighter, her shoulders tensing. “They were hunting Nell, but Bea… sacrificed herself. Saved her.” And she’d done nothing.

Luce’s confession brought Ulfric back to that night outside the trailer when Ari had returned to finally speak the words out loud and make them real; My sister is dead. His stomach plummeted, and he was briefly overcome by the impulse to find some kind of blanket to wrap her up in like he had the young wolf, despite how pointless that was when she could generate her own warmth. “What is it about sisters and self-sacrifice?” He found himself mumbling into his hands, leaning forward with his elbows braced against the table under the weight of the news. He hadn’t meant to say that, but a confession of his own in return for hers seemed fair. “Ariana’s sister is dead too, for similarly noble, bullshit reasons.” And his own sister was dead for completely arbitrary, bullshit reasons but that was beside the point. “Not that I’m trying to pit your grief against mine. Yours would kick mine’s sorry ass.” He explained. “I just want you to know I have some experience to back me up when I say that I’m sure… Bea was a good person, and the last she would want is to see any of her sisters hurt. Inflict that pain on the world if you need to. Throw something, light something on fire, tell me to get fucked in some creative way,” He suggested, searching for human substitutes for the innate mechanism of releasing pent up negativity that he’d been born with. Luckily, he was fairly certain he could smooth over anything she did short of burning the whole bar down with a sizable tip. “We can even go out back and I’ll let you get a few swings in. I doubt I’d feel it much right now, anyway. Just don’t direct this back on yourself, energy can’t escape a closed circuit like that.”

“Sisters. We’ll fight and bicker like hell, but someone comes for one of us… We’ll go to the ends of the earth to hunt them down.” Luce said quietly, her finger tracing one of the flower petals on her arm, staring at one of the snakes nestled among the flowers. Her mother. Her father. Neither of them knew. They were half a world away, none the wiser to what had happened to their favorite daughter. None the wiser to what their remaining daughters were sacrificing to bring her back. At Ulfric’s next words, Luce felt her stomach lurch. Ariana’s sister-- “Celeste?” She asked, aghast, staring at him. No. No, no, no. She hadn’t messaged the other woman, hadn’t heard from her in weeks. She thought maybe she’d read the signs wrong, that she’d just been a little too pushy, that Celeste was ghosting her. It had happened for. Plenty of women had done it to her. She had never thought that she was dead. “Fuck. Fuck.” Luce said her voice cracking as her jaw clenched. “I… I’m sorry.” She said thickly, sucking in a deep breath to try and keep from crying. Waving a hand, Luce lifted her glass and drained the rest of the beer from the stein. “Don’t. Don’t say that. I’ve already tried that. Tried to kill some monsters. Killed a couple. Scared a few people. Burned down the woods. Didn’t matter. It all just felt… like shit. Nothing helped. Nothing’s helped.” Luce whispered, staring down at the tabletop, unable to meet his eyes.

Despite his dampened senses, it was obvious to Ulfric that Luce was close to tears, but he managed to keep from commenting on it despite his lowered impulse control. As close as they were, she’d never broken down in front of him, and he didn’t want to scare or shame her into restraining her emotions again by acknowledging it. “Alright, I get it, nothing’s helped.” He eventually accepted her response, rising from the booth to head toward the bar. When he sank back into his seat a few minutes later with freshly refilled steins he sighed and picked up where he left off. “Time’s supposed to, right? Let’s just pass the time then.” He nudged the glass towards her and raised his own in a tentative toast. “To sisters?”

When the man stood up to get more drinks, Luce buried her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking slightly as she held back tears. Bea. Celeste. What the fuck. What the fuck. Why were the women around her dying? Who else would be next? And there was nothing that she could do for Celeste. Or for Ariana. Ariana-- fuck. She was just a kid. 18, but a kid. And she’d just lost her sister. Christ. Rubbing her face, Luce did her best to school her expression back to one of relative calm. The pain was still clear on her face, but the increased swaying of the room around them helped ease it away. “To sisters… avenging sisters.” She said, tapping her glass against his before drinking deeply, letting the alcohol wash over her. If she drank enough, maybe then she could just… forget this fresh, brutal news. “You… You said time’s supposed to help.” Luce said, echoing his words, her words running together as she stared at him with bleary eyes. “Did it? When you, when you lost your siblings. Did time help?”

“Did what?” Ulfric asked, her words becoming harder to decipher as they blurred together. “Oh, ...right.” He continued, recognition coming over him slowly. He was surprised she’d remembered. He only mentioned them in passing to explain why he didn’t get many visitors. ‘I’m the middle child of five, but my two older siblings are busy taking care of the family business back home, and the younger ones passed away a long time ago.’ An ocean of time, bigger than the ocean he’d crossed to get where he was now. Had it helped? “It helped somewhat,” He answered softly, after another steadying mouthful of ale. “Not as much as vengeance,” He added honestly, before reclining back into his chair to survey the bustling bar around them. “But I doubt you’ll find much of that at Dell’s. Time and company will have to do for now.”

“Somewhat.” Luce nodded, taking another large gulp of beer. The bar was spinning around her, her emotions hanging by a thread. But, she kept them at bay as best she could. She focused on Ulfric, focused on his words. On the fact that he knew her pain. He’d felt the fresh sting of losing siblings at one time, even if it had been years ago. But… Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Luce glanced around at Dell’s. No one was around, no one near at least. And it was loud enough that no one would be able to tell who’d said anything, even if they had werewolf ears like Ulf. “Not here in Dell’s. But, vengeance…” She let out a dry chuckle. “Sisters. You don’t fuck with them.” She said, her eyes dull as she leaned back into her chair. Her hand tapped against the top of their table, small sparks of blue flame drifting from her fingertips. “Sisters, they’ll chase you to hell and back again.”

At Luce’s glance around the room, Ulfric vaguely remembered that he wasn't supposed to talk of things like vengeance around mundane company. He generally tried to keep from alluding to things he’d done in the past at all, but he found at that moment the only person whose judgment he feared was hers, and that didn’t come. The acceptance he felt instead was like another layer of intoxication. None of the bar patrons seemed to be listening to them, likely because many of them had come to the bar with the goal of forgetting the things they’d seen and heard that they couldn’t or didn’t want to explain and weren’t looking to add to their burdens. Still, for her sake, he leaned in closer and kept his voice low as he nodded “Sisters can be formidable creatures.” The flames that sparked from her hand were uncomfortably warm in such close proximity to his, but he didn’t back away from them. “I wouldn’t want to stand in the way of one on the path to retribution.” He searched her eyes for some hint of what she was thinking, planning before deciding it didn’t matter. He already knew if she asked for his help with this he’d agree, details be damned. He wouldn’t be able to back down from the chance to help another sister, to do it better this time. “I’d stand by your side though,” The werewolf assured her, doing his best to keep her steady in his vision, to imprint the promise in his mind even after his sobriety returned. “If you needed me to.”

Locking eyes with Ulfric, Luce watched the way he leaned in. “Yeah. Yeah, they can be.” She said, smothering the flames with her palm, choking the blue flames out. She could feel the heat against her palm, but like all fire, it didn't burn. A part of her wondered what it would feel like, to burn like that. But, it never happened. The flames didn’t bite against her skin, they never went against her. At his words, she took another long sip of beer as she mulled over his offer. “Thanks, Ulf. But… I’ve got it covered.” She said, a smile curling on her lips, cold and cruel. “The motherfucker who did this, he’s going to wish he’d never even thought about coming after my family.” August. She’d held him in her hands, threatened to melt the skin from his face, had come so close to killing him… Next time, she wouldn’t hold back. Next time, he would know just how badly he’d fucked up by setting that hunter on her family. Luce let out a long sigh, she looked at him. “Same goes for you. With… Ariana’s situation. If you need help, if she needs help-- just say the word. I’ll do whatever I can to help. No one should lose a sister.” No one should feel the pain she did.

“I don’t doubt it, on both counts,” Ulfric told her, picking up on the determination in her tone, but not the iciness that might have given him pause if he had a clearer head. “You’ve got a deal.” He tapped his knuckles against her shoulder lightly in lieu of shaking her hand that had only recently stopped sparking, before tipping his glass to her and drinking deep to seal the new arrangement. Sinking bonelessly back into his seat he hummed, mulling over their conversation and the unexpected turns it had taken. “Hmm, all this talk of revenge makes me feel…” He searched his addled brain for a way to describe the sense of unfulfilled emptiness that had settled into his gut. “Hungry. Buffalo wings? Yes, buffalo wings.” He asked and answered his own question without pausing for breath, certain that was the solution. “I’m buying.”

#chatzy #luce #untethered #wickedswriting

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setsureadsshit · 5 years ago

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Lost At Sea: A List of WIP’s I am finally letting go of [ Part 1 ]

Finally going through my subscriptions on AO3 and clearing out the fics that haven’t gotten an update in too many years or have been orphaned since the last time I looked at them but what chapters were posted are worth reading as long as you don’t mind being left frustrated. Could also be considered a final plea and/or thank you/love letter to the authors for having written them at all, I don’t know how many parts this will take because I have like, 7ish pages of subscriptions on AO3 lmao so just, you know *hand waves* settle in the ride with me.

With the Bodies in the Gutter by TriDom

Summary: Derek works with the FBI to dismantle sex trafficking rings from the inside out. It's grueling, but he never believed that the wear on him outweighed the good he and his team did. Until he finds his mate with a new group that had been taken. He jeopardizes everything to get him out, only to have to turn his back on him before his mate is even awake.

Last Update: 2017

Fandom & Main Pairing: Teen Wolf; Sterek

Personal Notes: At 16 chapters it gives you enough progress to kinda feel satisfied. It dropped off at a kind of lull before ramping up into the next crisis action which also helps I think. Only mildly unsatisfying for not getting to the true “happy ending” but I’m not mad about it.

Where Is My Bright Future by Steamcraft

Summary: au: Derek and Stiles meet at a German camp.

“My name…” The boy trails, then grimaces. “Stiles Stilinski.”

Derek’s eyebrows rise. “Stiles. Nickname?”

Stiles nods. “You English, how is it… Butcher.”

That surprises a laugh out of him. Stiles looks startled at the sound, heart racing, before he tentatively smiles.“You laugh, but its true.”

Last Update: 2015

Fandom & Main Pairing: Teen Wolf; Sterek

Personal Notes: I read this a long time ago and I remember it being both really good and really heavy but also getting a little lost in the middle. It’s got 14 chapters though so, like the fic above I feel like it’s a satisfactory read even if there isn’t a real ending.

When Sparks Fly by LunaCanisLupus_22

Summary: “Derek,” Stiles thunders. “Were you ever going to tell me your house is trying to hook us up?”

Derek's head snaps up, eyes wide and scenting the evident crackle of magic in the air.

Or the one where spark!Stiles moves into an enchanted apartment block owned by a grumpy alpha and is completely oblivious to the building's efforts to matchmake them.

Last Update: 2016

Fandom & Main Pairing: Teen Wolf; Sterek

Personal Notes: This one is a little harder to categorize because it started out as a like, 2 chapter completely completed fic - and then the author came back and added more? So it’s unclear if they plan on coming back and adding more again since they’ve left it uncompleted but you know *hand waves*. In any event, it’s a definite good read, one of my favorites, highly recommended.

Where A Mask, Be A Hero by A_Whistful_Writer

Summary: Oliver Queen had started a crusade in his father’s name, alone. It was bitter, harsh and unrelenting. He was left with scars and bruises that only seemed to double with each passing day. But then he found companions in his fight. Laurel, Diggle, Felicity, Roy. They made things more bearable, and for a while, he was happy, even though there was a gaping hole in his heart. Something was missing.And that was when Oliver met Barry Allen.

Last Update: 2018

Fandom & Main Pairing: Arrow/The Flash ; Flarrow

Personal Notes: It’s honestly just a retelling of the first however many seasons of each show but with a little more OTP filling. The later chapters kinda lost the plot and I was hoping it’d pick up again and really start rolling but I’m throwing in the towel on this one.

The Fault Is Not In Our Stars - Orphan

Summary: After a long and wretched campaign, Asgard has conquered Jotunheim. To ensure King Laufey's cooperation and later friendship between the kingdoms, Asgard takes home the apparent heir to the throne, Loki Laufeyson. Loki is, unfortunately, anything but complacent.Based on the art by stunningly talented Wantstobelieve: http://wantstobelieve.tumblr.com/post/18102496999/guess-who-just-watched-troy-again-yup-that

Last Update: 2013

Fandom & Main Pairing: Thor ; Thunderfrost

Personal Notes: I had hoped this would be a case of the author regaining their writing inspiration with a new Thor movie on the horizon and promptly forgot about it for...a long time, lmao. I’m glad that the author chose to orphan the story instead of simply deleting it because it may only be 8 chapters but they’re very well written and the story is compelling, even unfinished.

Time Will Crawl by coldhope

Summary: Inspired by one of kaciart's amazing drawings: the Winter Soldier faced with a pre-serum Steve Rogers and--conversely--1940s Bucky Barnes coming home to find Captain America lurking in the kitchen.

Last Update: 2014

Fandom & Main Pairing: Captain America (MCU) ; Stucky

Personal Notes: It’s only two chapters which isn’t long enough to *really* get attached to something but the concept was interesting enough to hold my attention/hope that it’d get continued.

The What’s And How’s of Raising Werewolves by kit_cat

Summary: Stiles is twenty-five and shares his bed with a five-year-old werewolf who calls him mommy. This isn't how he expected his life to turn out.Or in which Derek is a kindergarten teacher, the Hales are alive, Danny is overly romantic for a five-year-old, and Stiles has somehow Magicked his way into being the legal guardian of three werelings all under the age of ten... and may or may not be on the run from a league of werewolf kidnapping hunters.

Last Update: 2017

Fandom & Main Pairing: Teen Wolf ; Sterek

Personal Notes: So I’m...technically not giving up on this one since it’s gone 3 years between updates before and really like this story so I’m going to hold onto this hope for a little while longer but it’s a very very slim hope. This is a fic that does NOT leave off with a satisfactory feeling even though it’s 9 chapters in, those 9 chapters really are just the place setting and maybe a charcuterie board or two while guests mingle but you could start smelling the main course from the kitchen.

Trust by trufflemores

Summary: "Barry reels Oliver in for a hug. Oliver grants him three seconds, pulling back with his own irrepressible smile, knowing he looks like young-and-in-love which is ridiculous because he's not. Maybe, a tiny, impulsive part of him argues, he wants to be."

Last Update: 2017

Fandom & Main Pairing: The Flash/Arrow ; Flarrow

Personal Notes: I have spent I don’t KNOW how many months on and off trying to find this fic again, only to discover I’ve had it the whole fucking time! Specifically, the way trufflemores describes how they interact - giving words to all of the silent conversations they have, how they translated Barry and Oliver’s body language to so perfectly into writing. Like, even after I stopped watching The Flash (and had long since stopped watching Green Arrow), I still watched the crossover episodes because watching Barry and Oliver (and later Kara) interact was always my favorite thing. Honestly, watching both teams together was always so much fun - the episodes were just fun, but I digress. I don’t honestly remember where this fic leaves off but it was fairly episodic so I don’t really know that it needs an end per say, reading it shouldn’t leave you too dissatisfied.

The Propinquity Effect by SwiftEmera

Summary: Oliver Queen pretty much ignored his bisexuality, until he clapped eyes on Barry Allen.Unfortunately, Barry is a social pariah, and Oliver's mother is currently running for governor, so Oliver is pretty much trapped in the bisexual closet, unable to come out and associate himself with Barry for the fear of tarnishing his mother's campaign. However, when their teacher pairs the boys up to work on a Psychology project based around the subject of sexual attraction, Oliver's willpower to keep his distance is strongly tested.

Last Update: 2015

Fandom & Main Pairing: The Flash/Arrow ; Flarrow

Personal Notes: I’ve been re-reading most of these as a final send off but this one I’m just not in the mood for unresolved angst. It’s really well written, the characters are really well adapted for the AU, but just knowing it isn’t finished and probably wont ever be I don’t want to invest my energy into something that doesn’t have a conclusion - for better or worse and this is the kind of fic I *need* to have an end.

#Sterek #Teen Wolf #Stiles Stilinski x Derek Hale #Arrow #The Flash #Flarrow #Barry Allen x Oliver Queen #Thor #Thunderfrost #Thor Odinson x Loki Laufyeson #Captain America (MCU)#Stucky #Steve Rogers x Bucky Barns #Lost At Sea

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leroiloup · 5 years ago

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Das Biest

⚜ The entirely unnecessarily long & violent story of how Klaus gave up on trying to be human. ➥ Takes place : Fall of 1359 in present day Germany ✥ Trigger Warnings : violence /gore

❝ –– the true problem remains my brother Niklaus ; he continues to hide his loneliness with cruelty. ❞ Elijah’s Journal ║ August 1359

-✦-

Understanding / Forgiveness / Love / Redemption

❝ Such notions were thrown my way towards the latter years of my life, perhaps encouraged by the love that melted my frozen heart when my daughter was born. I wonder, though, does sixteen years account for well over a thousand ? Does the path I took mean anything so long as my destination was justified ? If you’re to ask me, I’d say no. Yes, when I died, I did so selflessly as a father , a brother , a friend , and a lover. But first and foremost I lived my life as only one thing : a m o n s t e r .

❝ I’m no mere villain in the stories you hear. I’m not the lackey who lives to serve under tyrannical rule. I’m not the bad guy thrown into the path of the hero set to challenge his ways and ultimately make him rise above and vanquish evil, thus becoming the pure symbol of good–– et cetera et cetera. No, I’m none of these things.

I’m much worse.

❝ I’m the nightmare that demons cower from. I’m the shadow from which evil flees. True, I softened in the final years of my life, finding a selfless focus of my power, but make no mistake. It is my name that makes the night itself tremble in fear.

❝ How did it come to this, you wonder ? How did the simple son of a wayward Viking become the ultimate terror to plague this world for over over a millennia ? There’s a plethora of examples from which I could cite, but the one that could truly drive my point home takes place in the fall 1359. Humanity was never a thing I could easily turn on and off as vampires today can, but in that time, I was truly anything but h u m a n . ❞

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The ropes bit into the flesh of his wrists, bruising them deeply. Rope, however, was nothing but a nuisance for a vampire. Klaus could have easily snapped them and freed himself in an instant - if it weren’t for the witch chanting incessantly. The words were like daggers through his very skull. The original vampire was on his knees in a wooden church, a small group of people surrounding him. They looked frightened but determined as they watched the witch subdue him. Dark red and black eyes framed by rippling veins stared back, his fangs bared as he yelled, promising unending torment the moment he was free.

It wasn’t often that a vampire was caught, and it was nearly impossible to catch an original. The people of the small town of Bedburg, Germany in the autumn of 1359 didn’t even know what vampires were. They were hunting a werewolf and ended up with Klaus in their snare. How could such a feat be possible ? How was the infamous and powerful Klaus MIkaelson overcome by the simple minded townsfolk ? A beautiful pair of brown eyes, of course.

His name was Johann and he had the unfortunate luck of coming across a vampire feeing in the woods under the cover of night. Elijah, Rebekah, Kol and Klaus had taken up residence in Cologne Germany, just fifty kilometers away from Bedburg. After a particularly nasty blow out over the morals of being a vampire, Klaus headed out into the night to clear his head. Not wanting to attract attention back home, he found the small village and hunted on the outskirts. It was just after a drank a pair of lovers out for a roll in the hay dry that Klaus heard the snap of a twig, announcing the presence of another.

Turning to the source of the sound, Klaus seemingly disappeared and reappeared right in front of the young man. He was tall and fit, clearly a labor worker like a farmer. Shoulder length brown hair was tied back at the base of his neck and his youthful face was void of a beard. He couldn’t be much older than Klaus was when he was turned. Wide brown eyes looked up at the vampire, fear mingled with something else - something that took Klaus by surprise : wonder.

❝ Aren’t thou afraid ? ❞ he asked in German, having learned the language a century earlier.

A tense moment passed and the young mortal finally broke the silence. ❝ They- They told me t’was a beast who hunted in these woods. ❞ That immediately took Klaus off guard. As far as he knew, this was the first time a Mikaelson had set foot near Bedburg. The village was too small to even be on a map. It was a complete fluke that his rage fueled path took him there. ❝ Something like a hound straight from the bowels of hell. Some thing like- ❞

❝ A wolf ? ❞ Klaus asked.

The mortal’s eyes widened a bit as he nodded. He looked to the two dead bodies, then back to the killer before him, blood still on his chin. ❝ I didn’t know you’d be a man. Are you both ? ❞

Finding himself far more intrigued with the inquisitive mortal, Klaus felt his earlier anger ebb away. ❝ I am not what you’re hunting. ❞ The fact that there was a werewolf in these parts was fascinating and Klaus filed it away for later.

❝ But you killed them, ❞ the mortal stated.

❝ Yes. ❞

❝ And you’ll kill me now ? ❞

Klaus took a couple of steps froward, wiping the blood from his chin with his thumb, bringing himself within reaching distance of the young man. ❝ Thou art unafraid at the prospect ? ❞ Usually this would be the point of running and screaming, but the mortal seemed merely curious.

❝ Not of dying, ❞ he admitted. ❝ I loathe this town. And the people in it. ❞ His eyes were on the dead couple when he spoke.

There was a kindred spirit in the mortal that Klaus could feel. He’d never loved anyone since Aurora had shattered his heart, and while the concept of love wasn’t at the forefront of his mind, he found himself yearning for kinship ; someone who could understand him. Taking a risk, he slowly reached out and brushed back a lock of stray brown hair from the mortal’s face. ❝ Small minded people are never able to see the greatness within those like us. ❞

❝ Us ? ❞ he asked, not shying away in the least. On the contrary, he leaning into the touch, fascinated by the creature of fantasy.

Klaus nodded, dark blue eyes holding his gaze with a growing intensity as he leaned closer. When next he spoke, it was in a whisper as though worried that any volume would shatter the moment he’d unwittingly found himself in. ❝ I can show you a better way to live. ❞ Drawn together by an unseen force, their lips met, and Klaus felt the first wave of peace overtake his soul in centuries.

Only when their lips parted did the mortal smile and say, ❝ I am Johann. ❞ Klaus grinned in return before kissing him again, letting his emotions take hold and guide his actions.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The young love lasted three nights. Each night, Klaus would slip away from his siblings to meet Johann in the woods outside of Bedburg. At a time when his loneliness mingled with insatiable hunger had started to melt away the traits that made him human, it was Johann’s warm touch that coaxed a bit of his old self to the surface. It was pure bliss, reminding the vampire that there was more to life than rage, torment, and blood. There was beauty all around if only one were to open their eyes and look.

On the third night, Klaus didn’t even greet his new friend. He pounced from the darkness, shoving Johann up against a tree and kissed him with the passion he’d denied himself for so long. When the kiss ended, Klaus grinned, a playful expression in place. It was only then that he saw the fearful and saddened look in the brown eyes he’d come to crave. ❝ What’s the matter ? ❞

❝ I am so sorry. I did not know- ❞

Confusion clouded blue eyes as Johann rambled, but before Klaus could make any sense of it, there was a searing pain that shot through his skull. Instantly the vampire was brought to his knees, hands to his head as he yelled. A witch had come into view from around a tree. Her hands were outstretched and she chanted, holding strong to the spell that was able to subdue the original. Betrayal and hurt boiled deep within his eyes as Klaus looked to Johann. A group of mortals had no descended and shackled Klaus, tying him up to bring back to town. As far as the townsfolk were concerned, their period of strife had ended : the werewolf of Bedburg had been caught. Oh, how wrong they were !

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The sun had begun to rise when Klaus was tied down on his knees, hands behind his back in the wooden church at the end of the village. A ring of salt was around him as the witch continued her ritual to kill him. He wondered if he were a regular vampire whether or not it would have worked. The small handful of people who surrounded him weren’t recognizable, though they appeared to be people of powerful positions within the little community. One man in particular stood in front of the group, looking like the mayor.

Head bowed under long tresses of tangled blonde hair, seemingly given up, Klaus calculated the many ways he would introduce pure anguish into their lives. The inexorable torment that pounded through his black and broken heart fueled the machinations through Klaus’s mind. For a brief glimmer in his life, Klaus had found happiness ; the kind of happiness that he didn’t think would be possible after Aurora. It was nothing more than an illusion, he realized - not unlike his humanity. To hell with Elijah’s morals and speeches about being better than the beast. Klaus had learned where compassion would get him, and it was a road he never wanted to travel again. He wasn’t a human any longer, and he decided that eternity would be better spent accepting that truth. He was better than them - he could rise above them. As far as he was concerned, he wasn’t human, but rather their god. Unfortunately for the town of Bedburg, he’s not a merciful god in the slightest. They needed to be punished and the monster within him reared its head, begging for blood.

Sunlight shone through the church windows, bathing Klaus in its light. One of the wives stepped back, confused. Apparently she thought demons couldn’t survive in the sunlight. It gave Klaus an idea - one that he was sure he’d regret later - but his mind was running solely on the need for revenge. Logic be damned.

Head raised slowly and inhuman vampire eyes met the group. Fighting against the searing torment of the spell, Klaus’s face set with a new determination. Apparently the blood thirsty look they were met with was enough to cause concern and the room froze. Even the witch paused, though her hands were still up. He couldn’t leave the ring of salt, so she felt safe.

That feeling was misplaced.

Hands still behind him, Klaus’s fingers found his daylight ring and pulled it off. Instantly his body was engulfed in flames, wide grin and dangerous eyes seen through the fire. The wood of the church caught instantly, going up like a tinder box. It was an unseasonably dry year which worked in his favor. The mayor pushed his wife towards the door as another man was caught, screaming as fire lit him up. The ring of salt was gone and the people panicked as they ran for the door. Klaus moved at preternatural speed to the witch who stood in a shaded area. He sunk his teeth into her neck and she screamed as her healing blood filled his mouth and flames engulfed both of their bodies. He didn’t stop until her head was nearly severed from its neck, then Klaus dropped the body to the floor. He put his ring back on and moved with the same speed to the door and those trying to escape. The wind created by his movement was able to kill the flames still on his body. What clothing was left was singed to his melted flesh, hair gone and red eyes wild. The pain was unlike anything he’d ever felt, and yet the original was able to harness it and let it fuel him.

There were more screams as people were trapped in the flames. Those who would survive were met with sharp fangs.

Outside, the villagers were taking to the street to behold their church up in flames. The screams within died and after a few tense moments, the grotesque figure of Klaus emerged from the smoky doorway. It was immediately clear to anyone that he wasn’t human, for anyone with burns that bad wouldn’t still be walking. Blood fell from his lips as it began to heal him. His eyes scanned the ground as people started to run back to their home. He wasn’t bothered with them, though, as his eyes found Johann in the crowd.

The mortal had the sense to finally look afraid as Klaus approached. A scarred and singed hand reached up, affectionately caressing the side of Johann’s face. ❝ I did not want to, ❞ the mortal pleaded, tears in his eyes. ❝ You have to believe me. I never wanted this. They- ❞

Words ceased and brown eyes went side as his expression froze. When Klaus pulled back his other hand, it was dripping with blood, holding the beating heart of the man he thought to be his lover. There was nothing but a steely resolve forged by hurt and betrayal in Klaus’s eyes as he brought the heart to his lips and took a drink. Johann’s body fell limp to the ground and there was a piercing scream from one of the villagers who’d witnessed it. Klaus smirked and dropped the heart before turning his blind hatred on the people of the town.

The slaughter didn’t last long as Klaus tore through as many people as he could find. Blood painted the sides of buildings, limbs fell detached in his wake, and smoke began to could and blot out the sun. No one was safe from his ire and blood soaked fangs. The fire continued to spread, a visible metaphor to the vampire’s ever growing and all consuming rage. It wasn’t long before the entire village was on fire and not a soul was left alive.

Satisfaction wasn’t the emotion that Klaus carried in his heart as he walked away from the smoldering remains of the carnage. The tragedy of loss in his heart was gone, washed away with any semblance of happiness or peace. Instead, the only thing Klaus felt was numb. All attempts at being human were a thing of the past. The original would move forward in life only as the thing he was forged to be : a beast.

Finding a wandering horse, Klaus approached it and - not bothering with a saddle - he mounted and guided the animal back towards Cologne. The village of Bedburg would be resettled in coming years, though to this day, there are still stories of the werewolf that once plagued the town. What there will not be stories of, is the monster far more terrifying - the one who gave in to the animalistic side and embraced his true nature in their very church.

#ᴡ ☾ kʟᴀᴜs cʜʀᴏɴɪᴄʟᴇs ﹕ oɴᴇ sʜᴏᴛ #ɢ ☾ aᴄᴛɪᴏɴ #ᴛ ☾ Pʀᴇ TVD #ᴠ ☾ cᴀɴᴏɴ #klaus mikaelson #[ this is so long #[ and violent #[ but also fun fact :#[ werewolves in Bedburg Germany is true facts! look it up ;)#[ I can't believe I finished this #[ I started it back in DECEMBER #[ it's so pointless I dunno who'd even read all this #[ but I feel so accomplished

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cromulentbookreview · 5 years ago

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Werewolves of Florida

I saw a werewolf with a parrilla menu in his hand /

Walking through the streets of Miami in the rain /

He was looking for a place called Novecento /

Gonna get a big dish of entraña /

Aaoooooo /

Werewolves of Florida /

Aaoooooo /

Sorry.

(I’m not sorry. Aaooooooo!)

And by that, I mean: Lobizona by Romina Garber!

Well, if you’d expect werewolves to show up in America, where else but Florida?

Ha. Florida. The butt of so many jokes. It’s easy to make fun of Florida (fun, too!), so as a lifelong resident of the Pacific Northwest...I’m going to continue making fun of Florida, a state I’ve never been to and will likely never visit as I have no intention of being eaten by a gator or a python or a python gator or whatever insane creatures live down there.

I kid, I’m sure there are places in Florida that are perfectly lovely. They just happen to coexist with the insanity that is the rest of Florida.

Anyway! Werewolves in Florida! It sounds possible. Seriously, could you imagine the headlines? “Florida werewolf brings drugs to a drug bust, gets himself busted”? “Florida werewolf charged with assault with deadly weapon after throwing alligator through Wendy’s drive-thru window”?

In this case, however, there aren’t just werewolves in Florida, but Brujas as well! Both sound like people you would find in Florida. “Florida Bruja drops pants, licks man, dances naked in Waffle House parking lot”?

Where was I? Oh. Yes. Lobizona by Romina Garber!

Seventeen-year-old Manuela Azul (she goes by Manu) and her mother, Soledad, have been living in Miami illegally for most of Manu’s life. Manu has a strange eye condition, in which her pupils and irises look like stars so she has to wear sunglasses 24/7 to avoid freaking other people out. Though I’m certain if she walked into an optometrist’s convention with eyes like those she’d immediately be the most popular girl in the whole room, but since she and her mom are in the country illegally, that sort of attention would be very, very bad.

Soledad had to flee Argentina because Manu’s father, Fierro, was supposedly high up with some bad people who disapproved with his relationship with Soledad. So much so that they killed him, sending Soledad into hiding. If they knew Soledad was alive, and that Manu even existed, Fierro’s people would kill them both.

And, as if hiding from Fierro’s people were bad enough, Manu and Soledad are on a constant lookout for ICE. If their apartment building is raided by ICE, they could be deported, back to Argentina where they’d be sitting ducks for Fierro’s murderous family and friends. So Manu has lived a sheltered life within a tiny apartment with her mom and their elderly friend Perla, who has sheltered them for years.

And! As if being an undocumented immigrant with freaky-eye syndrome forever anxious that the next car might be full of ICE agents while stuck in a tiny apartment was bad enough, Manu also - also! - suffers from horrible periods. Joy. Every month, her mom gives her a special pill that puts her to sleep for three straight days just so she sleep through the pain. That’s shit makes PCOS sound like a walk in the park. (Note: do not go for a walk in the park right now and if you do remain 6 feet away from everyone else at all times). Also, where can I get a hold of a drug that can let me sleep through my period? I like the sound of that.

So Manu has spent much of her life dreaming of escape and a life without fear. Currently, her only hope is the knowledge that her mom is doing her best to get them both legal status. Then one day, Manu notices some strange people hanging around her apartment building. Then Perla is attacked and hospitalized. In a panic, Manu rushes off to find her mom...only to find that Soledad has been lying to her for quite some time. Soledad isn’t a maid for some rich lady - she works at an underground Miami clinic. And she never intended to apply for legal status for her and Manu.

Just as she’s reeling from this revelation, ICE raids the underground clinic. From here, the story takes a weird left-turn. On the run, Manu leaps into the back of a truck, and, after a long ride that sounded way more comfortable than a long ride in the bed of a truck should sound (seriously, there’s no jostling, no being flung about, no wind burn...I get that Florida is pretty flat, but aren’t there potholes? Rocks? Also, isn’t it illegal for someone to ride in the bed of a truck? How did no one else not see her and call the cops?) she ends up deep within the Florida Everglades. After somehow hopping out of the guy’s truck without him noticing that she was ever in there (again, how??? I drive a truck and would absolutely notice if someone were hitching a ride back there. Hey, how come I’m fishtailing significantly less than I usually do? Oh, wait, there’s a human back there) Manu stumbles upon...

A secret school for brujas and werewolves. In the Florida Everglades. And she meets people her age who have eyes just like hers. Suddenly, the puzzle pieces start fitting together - her father must have been a part of this society, not some criminal organization. Manu is half magic. She’s living the ultimate Harry Potter dream! And, somehow, without paying tuition or applying, Manu is allowed to join the school. Finaly, Manu has somewhere that she belongs, and even begins to make friends. She even starts making eyes at a hunky werewolf named Tiago.

There’s just one problem, though. The society that Manu has found herself in has some pretty strict gender roles. Girls are brujas, guys are werewolves. Period, end of sentence. But, even though she definitely belongs among this magical society, Manu doesn’t really have the powers of a bruja. She’s something else.

And there is one thing her mom wasn’t lying about - Fierro’s people are still pissed. Brujas and werewolves are not supposed to have relationships with humans. It’s forbidden. Like, really forbidden. Ultra forbidden. If Manu is found to be half-human, she’ll be killed.

So Manu has traded living forever in fear being an undocumented immigrant in America...for living forever in fear being half-human in a world of magical creatures who think hybrids are evil.

Good luck with that, Manu! Also, there’s still the question of the whereabouts of her still missing father. Is he dead? Alive? And what is Manu, if she’s not a bruja?

(If you speak Spanish, the title is a dead giveaway. Let me give you a hint: Manu’s hair is perfect. Aaooooo!)

Despite a couple of hiccups in the beginning - the book starts pretty slow before taking that weird left-turn into the Everglades and Bruja Werewolf academy. And, as is typical in the first book of a series, much time is spent establishing everything, and less on giving us closure or answers to the big questions. Like, for example, the fate of Mimitos. See, Manu has one friend in the apartment complex, an adorable cat named Mimitos. Mimitos’s owner is a bit senile, so Manu takes care of him...only after Manu flees after Perla is attacked, Mimitos disappears and is promptly never mentioned again. What happened to Mimitos? Is he OK? Is someone feeding him or giving him water and pets and cuddles and WHAT HAPPENED TO THE MIMITOS, ROMINA?!!?! I demand answers.

Maybe he went off to live in the Cat Kingdom from The Cat Returns? Maybe? Probably? Hopefully?

Ahem. Well, my ability to render a serious and well-thought out book review in the time of COVID-19 has gone to shit, so I’ll be brief. Lobizona is gorgeously written and a fascinating blend of YA contemporary and YA fantasy. I also love the warring gender dynamics within the magical society of brujas and werewolves - not everyone loves the strict binary, or the fact that they’re not allowed to hang out with humans. Ultimately, Lobizona is a brilliant story of a girl looking desperately for a place to belong within not just one, but two worlds that don’t want her - that have deemed her wrong. Illegal. And Manu is tired of that bullshit. If the human and magical worlds don’t want her, damn it, she’s going to go off and find a place that does.

Go forth and kick ass, Manu!

Another aspect of the book that I really liked (your mileage may vary, depending on how big of a language nerd you are) is how Garber discussed how there are many different dialects of Spanish. Argentinian Spanish apparently has a sing-song quality which makes me wonder if the English dialect equivalent of Argentinian Spanish would be Upper Midwest English, you know, like in Fargo. The Upper Midwest was settled heavily by Scandinavian immigrants and the Scandinavian languages do have a sing-song quality to them, then, well...

I'd love to know more about the different dialects of Spanish. If only I'd learned Spanish. I didn’t. I learned German, Schwachkopf that I am.

Which brings me to my rant, because I do love to rant. This does have something to do with Lobizona. Kind of. Anyway:

One of my biggest pet peeves in fiction is untranslated dialog. For some reason it really irks me, mostly because it reminds me of how dumb I am and how I should have learned more than just one other foreign language. I mean, seriously, I should have learned Spanish. I never did because I was that contrary moron who, upon seeing that everyone else was taking Spanish said, “screw you, I’ll take German!” Ultimately a bad idea, but, hey, Deutsch ist eine Wunderschöne Sprache. I don’t mind bits of untranslated stuff, so long as there are context clues as to what they might be saying.

I also find it annoying to have a sentence in a different language, and then have the sentence immediately after translate the preceding sentence. For readers that are fluent in both languages, you just made them read the same sentence twice, unless there’s a bilingual bonus in there. For readers out there who don’t speak that language, their eyes just glaze over and they skip the dialog entirely, in favor of the translation. Why not just say they were speaking in [insert foreign language here] then continue on?

I mean, I get wanting to show off your foreign language skills, or make the reader feel good about their language skills, or give a nod to fellow native speakers who also have had to master the cluster fuck of a language that is English (seriously, one of the best descriptions of the English language I’ve read is that English is basically three children in a trench coat pretending to be an adult, but as a language). Still, I find untranslated dialog super annoying. Because I dumb.

The worst example of this that I’ve ever encountered (and probably what soured me for any other instances of untranslated dialog ever in the future) was in this terrible translation of Thomas Mann’s The Magic Mountain that I read in college - you’d think an English translation of a German book would be entirely in English...yeah no, 3/4 of the way in, I found myself facing pages - multiple pages! - of untranslated....French.

French!

In a book that had already been translated from the German.

Damn it, translator, was there some sort of contract dispute in which you said, “well, they’re paying me to translate the book from German to English, so I’ll just leave these several pages of French conversation untranslated.”

Rrraaaage.

I was already frustrated with that book (it’s not great) but slogging through several pages of untranslated French with zero footnotes or even a translation provided in the afterward made me want to set the book on fire.

What does this have to do with Lobizona? Very little, except there are a few instances of untranslated dialog that, even if you speak zero Spanish, you’ll be able to figure out pretty quick. It just gave me awful Zauberberg flashbacks that brought back all that rrrrrage.

Fuck it, guys, we’re in the middle of a pandemic, and I promise cromulent reviews, not good ones.

RECOMMENDED FOR: Anyone looking for an amazing blend of YA contemporary lit and fantasy that features kickass werewolves living in the Florida Everglades.

NOT RECOMMENDED FOR: Bigots, assholes, people who use the word “illegals” to refer to other human beings, werewolves who hate brujas, brujas who hate werewolves, non YA fantasy fans, anyone who objects to YA fiction containing actual real world problems.

RATING:4/5

RELEASE DATE: May 5, 2020

WEREWOLF RATING:

HOW TERRIFIED I AM OF COVID-19 RIGHT NOW:

Ahahahahaha I’m scared you guys. I still have to commute via public transportation to work downtown in a major city.

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ovenefica · 5 years ago

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(danielle rose russell, they/them, genderqueer) Fate and Love have brought VICTORIA CHURCH to start a new life in Hades.The TWENTY ONE + THREE HUNDRED FIFTY SIX year old TRIBRID (WITCH-VAMPIRE-WEREWOLF), known among their lovers as VIC, is currently working as a PHOTOGRAPHER in town and trying their very best to be human. { oversized sweaters to conceal a tiny frame, strawberry chapstick to keep their partner wanting more, calloused fingertips are usually busy dancing across ivory keys, fingernails seem to find their way against their teeth whenever nerves kick in, soft voice drips off of their tongue like honey, lips chapped and red from gnawing at the surface whenever they’re lost in thought } + cherry, twenty five, eastern, they/them.

Hello one and all ! I’m Cherry and I’m the resident chaotic mess that will be writing the love of my life, Victoria Church. Vic is sort of a new muse to me, sort of not. They’re a bit of a mix of new and old, really. I’ve pulled some traits out of an old character I used to write ages ago and put them into a fresh face.

Now I swear, even though I’m using Danielle and have Vic as a tribrid, I’m not playing Hope Mikaelson- or I’ll do my best not to. Honestly, I haven’t seen any of Legacies but I’m using the lore for the species, thank you wiki pages.

Here are some quick little tidbits about little Victoria here.

FULL NAME: Victoria Elizabeth Church. MEANING: Victoria - Victory, Elizabeth - my God is an oath, Church - House of the Lord. BIRTH DATE: March 13th, 1643. AGE: three hundred fifty six, appears twenty one. ZODIAC: Gemini. GENDER: Genderqueer. PRONOUNS: They/them & She/her. ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Panromantic, polyromantic. SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Pansexual, Polysexual. NATIONALITY: British. ETHNICITY: English, German, Italian, Hungarian. CURRENT LOCATION: Hades, Louisiana.

Prefers they/them over she/her pronouns but wont be that upset if someone uses she/her since they present female.

Like Hope’s backstory, Victoria was a loophole made my nature who should not exist and because of this, they were exiled from their family and pack. Victoria was meant to just be a werewolf and they were able to hide the witch aspect of them for a long time before finally finding out. As soon as the secret is out, Victoria was told to leave, that a being like them was not welcome around them.

They spent more time travelling and trying to survive than building bonds and making a new family. They became stone walled to those around them, putting them at arms length in fear of being cast aside once they found the truth of who they are. Often Victoria says they are a werewolf since that is the life they remember the most, the life they miss.

Until they found their first friend in years. He was a warlock who taught them it’s okay to be different. He taught them magic they were missing, helped them find the connection they were begging for and the bond of the earth they’d been missing. It had filled a void they hadn’t known they needed.

But all good things must come to an end. The pair were attacked by hunters. Vic had triggered the werewolf curse years before and easily overpowered the hunters but they’d lost their only friend in the fight. Losing him had ruined Victoria for a long time, to the point they wanted to be able to turn off all emotions- so they triggered the last gene they needed to be whole.

Victoria spent the next few decades with humanity turned off. With no one to trigger it back on, they quickly became a notorious ripper within the small supernatural community. Eventually humanity came rushing back though Victoria refuses to speak about what the trigger was for it. They shut down on the topic and have threatened lives anytime someone presses the topic.

Due to their werewolf nature, Vic has a horrible temper and anger issues with controlling it.

They are still able to use magic, they can shift into a full werewolf, and they have the vampire true face as well. Each strength they have of the other species, they have the weakness that goes along with them as well. While they will not die to a werewolf bite, it makes them incredibly weak and near death any time. Each time they are bitten, it takes longer and longer to heal from the bite until eventually they would just be in a constant state of uncontrollable hunger, delusions, hallucinations, rabid rage, and dementia.

#━━ ✧ ʜᴇʏ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ﹐ ᴅᴇᴍᴏɴs ˙ ˖ ♡ ooc.#bh:intro

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whosxafraid · 5 years ago

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I want to get to know you!

one / name / alias: crow

two / birthday: fourth day of the seventh month.

three / zodiac sign: cancer

four / height: 5′4′″

five / hobbies: Writing (snape vc : obviously), editing, uh....not dying....surviving my kids...reading, and uhm...collecting pops.

six / favorite colors: black like my soul...also pink is good and purple and that very specific tropical green.

eight / last song listened to: uh.....shit uhm.....we’re going on a bear hunt i think...i have a three year old.....

nine / last film watched: Oblivion...years late i know but...wasn’t bad??

ten / inspiration for muse: uh...well...-hands u some coffee- get comfortable.... so lets go back a little bit...like way back...i think i was four? my mom would read me fairy tales and other more shall we say advanced fantasy. well i can remember thinking when she read me Little Red Cap and The Three Little Pigs why was the big bad wolf bad? like did he just up and decide one day to be a bad? did something happen to him to make him that way? where’d he come from? why does everyone hate him for trying to eat the pigs? humans eat pigs and we’re not thought to be bad just based on that. and why did he want to eat grandma anyway? unless he had some previous taste for human flesh before animals generally don’t pick us as a primary source of food...we don’t taste all that fantastic to them. (yes i was a very weird four year old who watched more documentaries than kids shows)

well those thoughts never really went away. so fast forward a little bit---somewhere around ten and it became a sort of mission that summer to figure out where the hell the brothers Grimm even found the inspiration for the story. so i did what any mid nineties kid did...i went to the library...again....and again...and again. (driving my mom slightly crazy in the process because we lived out in the middle of no where and trips to the library were kind of a hassle.) i would spend hours upon hours hunting through every book i could get my hands on about Germanic myth and the kind and at some point i realize the sort of creature everyone thought the brothers Grimm might have gotten the idea for the big bad wolf went from ‘some giant wolf that lived in the norther regions’ to ‘they’re using the wolf as a stand in for every’s innate fear’. And the latter kinda stuck with me. Fast forward AGAIN im sixteen going through some shit and i find all my old notes and scribbles and general silly ten year old kid stuff. But in among that box? is my little note book about the big bad wolf. (i’ve sadly since lost it i had a rough two years between seventeen and nineteen). But it sparked my interest in him again and by then i’d done a lot more reading across a lot of other regional lore and myths. And around three in the morning sitting out on my window having a smoke..it hit me.

for all the fifty seven different versions people have told over the years of The Big Bad Wolf--he’s a stand in for anyone and anything that prays on the lazy and inattentive, he’s the monster under the bed, he’s that stranger your mom warned you not to talk to on the street, he’s fear in incarnate....he had to be based of someone. because in every bit of ‘fantasy’ there is a grain of truth. That’s what makes it believable. for kids, for adults, for anyone. so i stopped looking at him like the big scary villain the fairy tales so flatly portrayed him to be and started working out who he was before. everyone has a start right? no one is just born bad just like no one’s born exactly good either. and it just took off from there.

i threw out the general werewolf ideal. i threw out the painfully shallow ‘he’s just a talking wolf that eats people’. i threw out the misconception that he was just bad to be bad. went back to the drawing board and started again. swam through miles of lore and myth from all over the world and what made the most sense to me were the “werewolves” of Ireland. thought to be decedents of Faoladh. and then i hit a snag because well wait a minute. all the wolves in Ireland are extinct now....why was that? so more research more time found out they were killed off because they were killing livestock...shocker. but why were they doing it? wat drove them to do it? why wasn’t it done earlier? what changed.

ANYWAY--so i wrestled with the Irish werewolf thing for a long while because like i said i’d thrown that entire thing out the window when i started over. and then again at some point in the wee hours of morning i realized no...i was right...he wasn’t a werewolf at all. but a boy that had been given a choice....and he lived forever after.

fast forward now to the recent past and present---a lot of my more recent developmental discoveries about Luka as a character have been thanks to @brooklynislandgirl who knows way more lore than i did. and she helped me shape him into who he is now here on tumblr. and its been an amazing trip that im still enjoying being. so yea...there’s a not so short explanation regarding how and why i was inspired to make this muse.

eleven / dream job: Novelist

twelve / meaning behind your url: Click me. [because yes i possess a sometimes mean sense of humor and he dislikes me for it lol]

TAGGED BY: @pricklesandthorns

TAGGING: if ur reading this and wanna do it tag ur it

#[post via mobile]#Post || Memes

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worldcakecakecake · 6 years ago

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The Society of Romulus and Remus

Ludwig is the product of a centuries old curse that transforms him into a dangerous werewolf. His only chance for a cure is with Feliciano, heir to the Society of Romulus and Remus, a group of hunters who hunt on the supernatural.

Sorry for the length it has taken me to post. I’ve been in Spain and things have been hectic.

Chapter 10

Ludwig hurried behind Feliciano the whole way to the hospital wing, trying to shout sense into him.

“Feliciano! Lovino’s wounds are too complicated for a beginner! You’ll only put him at more risk!”

“You said I could heal whatever wound!” Feliciano shouted back.

“I didn’t think you would want to heal something at your brother’s level!”

No matter, Feliciano had reached with his still strong intent. Ludwig followed him up the stairs, down the halls and before the ward. Only two nurses were there attending to his falling figure, most of his wounds now covered in healing bandages or IVs. The nurses, having heard how Feliciano reacted when he saw his brother this way, instantly covered and were soon to close.

“Wait! I can heal him!” Feliciano moved between them and took secured standing right next to the sleeping figure.

“Sir, we are doing the best we can ourselves,” one of them tried to stop him.

“Then let me!” He raised his sleeves, revealing well his wolf mark, one of the few times Ludwig had seen it.

As he analyzed how his brother's body was presented, surely mapping well how his own system must be organized in his ruined state, the nurses gazed over to Ludwig hoping he could say the words to get him to move back. He had already tried and knew that anything more will just fall uselessly.

“He learned a Venetian Mark in two days and passed Carlotta’s statue just for this,” it seemed Ludwig was starting to defend upon seeing the confidence Feliciano bore, only slightly trembling because of the haunting of how Lovino was still heavily damaged and without much promise.

The nurses widened upon hearing this, impression enough for them to hold back and watch what this could turn into. If anything, they prepared a blocking and interrupting spell under their breaths for if it failed.

Having those eyes on him made this slightly nerve wrecking, but he quickly learned to shut them off once he was sure of the mapping he had done in his mind and how the spell was going to move across his body. He could do this, he repeated to himself in his mind, enough in it to spark the needed energy. He took the position, straight, focused on his power, arms outstretched, the center well under their shadow. As he produced the magic, all in its well route, Ludwig saw him do something new and that was utter something under his breath. That wasn’t part of the spell. He was just about ready to comment, maybe even stop him, but the blue started along with a spread across the damaged parts of the body.

Ludwig and the nurses could tell it was difficult. Feliciano spent long times in many areas over the difficulty of the passing and the bruises, but more words and he continued through, all intrigued at the normal skin color that was beginning to return. Wounds closed, scars fully disappeared, bringing the body to a glow as if it had come anew to this world. Ludwig had never seen such a clean doing of the spell and surely it had to do with the whispers Feliciano was giving. Even as the body moved with breaths, Feliciano continued on his focus, fully until he had completed the entire body.

In a closing of his hands, it was done, the magic gone, a strong lingering of the energy disappearing away, leaving behind a healthy and bright Lovino, For the first time since his bloodied arrival, his eyes began to blink, adjusting to the heavy lights that glowed above him. The rest didn’t dare move, as if giving it all for Lovino to take.

Finally, hazel eyes widened completely, their usual fire and liveliness that didn’t match this ward, bandages and all the still connected IVs. He raised himself slightly, all sharing stunned expressions, either waiting for some kind of reaction.

“What?” Lovino decided to break the silence.

“You’re… okay?” Feliciano neared, still hesitant to touch him, afraid that he could disturb this and bring him back to his ruin of earlier.

“I’m…completely fine…why…” he looked around to the blankness of the ceiling, walls and floors, the machines, the bandages and the IVs. “Why…why am I in the hospital wing?” He was incredulous, slightly maddened even.

“You…you don’t remember?” One nurse questioned.

“Remember what?”

“The attack!”

“Oh that…yeah, I remember that.” And still he seemed nonchalant, well rested, like he was just lazing on a couch.

They all took a deep breath, one that seemed to push them to the floor in relief.

“So…do you feel okay?” Feliciano began to smile.

“I feel completely all right,” Lovino admitted truthfully, looking over to himself for all those bruises and scars. “How did you-”

“I’ll tell you later, but, Lovino, just let me hug you!” And he jumped on him and brought that embrace. Even with Lovino’s complaints and shouts, the nurses, even Ludwig, could only smile at the touching scene, giving them that loving exchange before they would have to start his removal. In the hardened shakes and the ramblings Feliciano went on with, Lovino tried to escape his eyes anywhere in the rush, landing them suddenly on Ludwig. Their eyes only met briefly, but in those couple of seconds, Lovino held that blue for a long while…wondering…wondering…wondering…until he recognized. Sudden raging darkness, roars, blood, a hundred piercings of what seemed a hundred sharpened teeth, a near reach of death. Lovino found himself returning the embrace of his brother, cradling into his neck and letting himself that comfort of his familiarity. Feliciano felt him trembling suddenly, so he hardened his hold, whispering words of comfort and love to try and ease him back to the calm he held when he woke up. He didn’t notice the hardened glare his brother sent his teacher. Ludwig noticed how the hold was a protective one, territorial, one that flared his inner wolf. It almost seemed like Lovino was staring right at the eyes of the beast even as it lay dormant in that body. Ludwig clenched his fists and pretended to be ignorant to these stares, willingly losing to that battle to try and avoid having Lovino recognize him.

The obvious hint were his eyes, as intense and dangerous as they had been in the attack.

Another nurse was told of the news and it was quickly brought to their leader, who arrived later to give the same embrace of welcome, as suffocating and as embarrassing.

“I was so scared, so scared. I dreaded to lose you and I’m so happy you’re well. You are safe and alive and healthy,” and Augusto had gone on with rumbles, never dispatching from the embrace, not halting the kisses he lay all over Lovino’s head. Sure, he had practically awakened by a coma, didn’t mean that he was accepting all this love feast easily, only trying to find escape even in his jailed position on the bed by the strength of his grandfather’s arms.

“Now, are you sure you’re all right? No headaches, no strains?” Augusto finally released him, his hand working as the expectations to his questions.

“Fine, completely fine. I can’t even remember how it felt like,” Lovino eased, pulling away that searching hand.

“And you’re sure you’re ready to leave the ward?” Augusto still wanted to make sure.

“I would this very instant. In fact, can I leave right now?”

“Easy there, give yourself a break to rest.”

“I rested long enough. I want to get back to work.” Lovino was determined.

“Really?...After that attack?”

“It’s the usual for someone of the society. Heir or not, it was bound to happen to me.”

“This kind of attack would have killed anyone. You’re lucky Feliciano mastered a Venetian Mark in two days just for you, or who knows how things would have ended.”

“Two days!” Lovino shouted incredulous, rising slightly from the bed in the push of surprise.

“I had the same reaction.” Augusto shushed him back to a proper sitting.

Feliciano stood in delight beside the bed, sporting a bright smile.

“I have to say I’m very impressed and of course proud. What made you so determined to learn it in two days?”

“I…really, really, really wanted to save Lovino.”

Augusto smiled, now brining him closer to the bed in his own crushing embrace.

“You are both admirable. Lovino, I see you soon reaching a golden sheep seal, and Feliciano, you have impressed me with this ability. Your dedication is true and just what this society needs.” There was faltering in Feliciano’s smile. “Perhaps you shall soon get your bronze sheep seal. I shall speak to Ludwig, you will be ready for your hunter test.”

Feliciano couldn’t hold his grin, fear carved, one Augusto didn’t notice as Lovino came out with another concern.

“Nonno, can I speak to you alone for a moment?”

Augusto raised an eyebrow, Feliciano already standing from the bed, wanting immediate leaving from his grandfather’s words.

“I’ll let you guys talk then,” Feliciano decided, rushing off to other freer things that could rise him from the new mood his grandfather brought.

They were alone in the ward now, nurses and others passing along not seeming to want to interrupt whatever it was they were to speak about.

“What is it?” Augusto neared to keep their conversation low.

“Ludwig.”

The German they spoke on about had decided on training for the day, exercises and lifts that he shared with others in a gym. He practiced on his breathing, on more of the controls that Augusto had given him, well on him even afterwards as he made his way around the base, thinking if he should have an early dinner or spend time on new readings. He passed by the hospital and suddenly found himself remembering Lovino. Curious over his wellbeing (especially after he was the one that caused it), he went over to see if he was still there. He arrived just to see his first standing since the attack, dressed well and ready to head back to his usual in the base. He seemed quite eager and strong, but then they caught their eyes, and he was soured, angry, turning away and already stomping to some other place in the hospital with no cringe or delay in his body. It was unexpected, and it left Ludwig in question. He didn’t notice Augusto was there until he began to approach him, a confident smile that didn’t show at all menace until a harsh hand had fallen well on his shoulder.

“Come with me, Ludwig,” Augusto commanded, leading Ludwig to another more secluded hall, with no array of doctors and nurses. Even when they found this place, Augusto refused to let him go.

“You were there, weren’t you?” His tone was sharp.

“Whe-where?” Ludwig feared.

“In Lithuania, more specifically, the forest where my grandson was attacked.”

Ludwig froze, silent and with not even a word on his mind to tell Augusto.

“Out with it, boy! Speak the truth!” He commanded.

How could Ludwig continue to defend himself of something that left a marking well for Augusto to know…and perhaps even Lovino.

“Sir…it was a powerful transformation I couldn’t control.”

“Didn’t I give you emergency pills?”

“I couldn’t reach them on time. Sir, I speak with the outmost truth that I was completely taken and unaware. I would never, ever, do a thing to harm you so closely. I apologize heavily, and I am willing to prove it however necessary.”

Augusto saw it well in his eyes, which controlled whatever violence the hunter and grandfather in him wanted to deal this in.

Augusto sighed, his hold now more comforting, his voice the gentile of family. “For your chances in staying in the society, not betraying my trust and your curse breaking, I hope so.”

Ludwig was released, and for a moment he thought he was free.

“I confide in you a lot, Ludwig. But I have to admit, I’m still taking a huge risk in letting you be my son’s private teacher. I trust well your control, plus the medicines and charms I have given you. This is only your first time breaking out of that line and my grandson was saved by a spell you did well to teach Feliciano quickly, so I will let it pass. But mark my words. You attack someone of my family again and I will personally be your end,” he threatened with quite a growl that reminded Ludwig, of well…a wolf.

“Understood.” Ludwig lowered his head in acceptance to such faith.

“Good, now, about Lovino…”

“Did he…?”

“Recognize you? Probably. My grandson has good instinct and can tell the signs of when a beast is among us.”

Ludwig raised his eyes, for he felt Augusto accusing him harshly with that word.

“It was hard convincing him and I doubt I truly cleared his suspicions, but I did enough so he wouldn’t go out to take you down by himself, but be wary, he told me he will keep you under a heavy watch, more so when he knows you spend a lot of time alone with Feliciano.” He turned, soon to take his leave, but of course he wasn’t done yet.

“Which reminds me, Ludwig, I congratulate heavy what you did to get Feliciano to learn it. You have proven more than ever your abilities as a teacher in this base.”

Ludwig tried to hide his pride, but a small grin escaped that Augusto caught.

“How ready do you think he is for his first testing?”

And it was gone, his thoughts now lost on that probability.

“I…don’t know, sir. We haven’t really done much on hunting tactics. When’s the next test?”

Augusto looked through his mind for the exact date. “About a month from now…do you think that’s enough to prepare him?” Augusto seemed to force that determination while Ludwig only stuttered.

“To be honest, sir, I don’t know.” He let himself say and Augusto appreciated it at least.

“After this one, the next test will take place in six months. It would be best if we didn’t have to wait that long,” was the last suggestion he decided to give, turning away to give Ludwig the time to think for himself.

Three days had passed only, days that Ludwig had decided on a locking in his room, reorganizing his year plan notebook concerning his curse breaking, an organizing depending heavily on Feliciano’s progress.

With his quickness in learning the Venetian Mark, something immensely good he admitted, it still drove his planning book in a mess that had him pulling his hair for every change and effect even for months ahead. Another haunting headache was his decision if to enter Feliciano into the next group testing. Sure, it would mean a new level and his first seal, it would mean access to all new materials that had to do with the other spells, as well as just a new name to talk about for the Valenti. But this was majorly a hunting test, risky because they go out into an actual field with actual dangers. Any slip off can be very costly and he just couldn’t imagine seeing Feliciano leave any of that without the least injury of a broken bone. But waiting six months…that would be too long a wait for the rest of the spells, to watch Feliciano improve and grow.

He left his office then, late in the night, halls practically deserted when he arrived at his room. As it had been in his life before he was taken into the society, his room was surrounded by books, all having to do with his teachings, or just new things Ludwig wanted to know more about. Because of their plentitude, sometimes he would forget the books he had, covered well by all the others he would get new, in quite a mess that he wasn’t really proud of. No matter what he did, a book was always on the way, seeming to come from out of nowhere and surprise him as if ready to attack. Ludwig was a werewolf…he could feel anything’s approach and defend himself well…even against books.

He wasn’t meaning to read anything. Once he was done with his washing, he prepared the bed and pushed aside whatever books were on top of it. He hoped he would have a better decision in the morning after sleep, one the very room wanted to help with. As soon as Ludwig was well tucked in his bed, a book he had overhead on a shelf fell right beside his face. Any other and he would pushed it aside like the rest, but the form of its cover took his instant interest.

It was an old leathered book Augusto had lent him back in the year that he had started in the society. It was part of a pile that he had said would help. He hadn’t remembered looking through this one, having better interest in what was Michelangela’s compendium and practically pushing aside the others. This one had a single eye in its front, carved in darkness that was somewhat eerie to Ludwig. He reached for it, opening to find a power and spell book for the usage of eyes. There were several basic ones that he could do himself, ones that you could teach to children, ones he had taught well to other students, difficult ones, even ones he had never read before. The last chapter was on ‘The Bronze Stare’ an extremely familiar one. Usually there was barely anything about it, mostly simplistic things that always kept Ludwig wondering if there was more. But this book, for once, brought something more extensive to the spell, showing more than what Ludwig originally thought it was for.

The Bronze Stare was known as a tracking and sight spell, to see things from afar and to better find and reach them. Yet, as the book showed more that it was perhaps where the spell was originally written on, it said that there was more to its purpose. He read that it could be used to paralyze or even kill from distance. Ludwig now couldn’t find it in him to sleep, reading on in all its full potency…one the would surely help Feliciano for when he joined the test.

This new book slammed well on Ludwig’s desk, startling Feliciano suddenly, who was wide awake, unlike other times mind you.

“You’re joining the next group testing,” Ludwig declared, taking his usual seat in his chair.

“What?” Feliciano was confused.

“You know that every six months, the society creates a test where they send newcomers to the Paneveggio to hunt for creatures that are either released by the very society or happen to be there as they try to find a way to get into our base. Whoever passes it, is granted a new level, a seal and relinquish their titles as beginners. If not, you will have to wait another six months and to be honest, I would rather not wait that long.” He already took pens and empty notebooks ready for the lesson, tapping them as he leaned forward, waiting for whatever questions Feliciano might have. Since he remained silent, he continued.

“You’ll be joining the students of other teachers, will be given all the necessary equipment and will be rightfully prepared.”

“And…when is the test?”

“At the end of the month.”

“But…that only gives us a couple of weeks!” Feliciano panicked.

“I said you’ll be rightfully prepared. For the next couple of weeks, we’ll be focusing on your hunting skills, as well as,” he opened the browned leathered book, until it was back at the important chapter, “the Bronze Stare.”

Feliciano was still too preoccupied with the ticking time, knowing of the exhaustion of physical training that will come, of the soon approach of having to kill to really think about this new spell.

“What is it?” He finally managed to question.

“It’s a sight intensification spell.”

“Oh, then it has to be simple,” Feliciano excited.

“In its basic form, yes, but we’ll be doing something different with it.” And Ludwig then turned the pages until he was in the last section that talked about paralyzing and killing. As soon as Feliciano saw those words, he gulped and moved the furthest away he could in his seat.

“The best chance you have at even surviving this test is this spell.”

That didn’t make Feliciano any confident about it.

Of course, they had to practice the spell, but alongside it they had to prepare Feliciano’s body for the training and intensity the spell asked when it came to hitting its targets until destruction and just hunting in general. It was back to the excruciating exercises, to the bruises from sticks and rocks they would use to practice different weapons, to the cringes and turns that made Feliciano cry, less and less visits to the terrace of statues because of how tired he was and how he wanted to spend most of his time just crashed on his bed.

On one particular day, Ludwig had let Feliciano do his first try on the Bronze stare. After how vicious the last days had been, he thought it to be something that could be of relaxation, peace for his body and mind.

He had been absolutely wrong.

His first tries gave him headaches, bulging and attacking headaches that had him groaning on the floor, Ludwig having to give him potions of medicine and even bags of ice to place on his head. He was sent back to his room completely drained, looking like an attacked mess and wanting nothing more than to lay for weeks on.

He arrived, his shirtless body in red, sweat, pushing everything to the side, simply riding of every piece of clothing and instantly falling upon his bed. The grasp of the darkness of sleep caught him, and he smiled for once in his hardened day as he finally settled with something of peace.

He dreamed of children playing in a beautiful garden, a banquet of the most delightful sweets presented for them. Feliciano acted in this dream as their caretaker, handing them all the caramel apples, chocolates with nuts and gum they wanted. A small orchestra played, a sweetened song that was tempting Feliciano into a dance with the children instead of working on more chocolate lollipops for them.

Ah yes, peace, peace, peace, peace…thunder.

The skies darkened, with an approaching storm, all scurrying to head inside to the palace behind them. Yet Feliciano was the only one that was not permitted the escape, being forced to watch as this storm that came brought along with it a destroying black smoke, tearing apart the surrounding trees, rivers and fountains.

Come on, come on, come on, he repeated to himself as he tried to dispatch from whatever mud kept him standing there, sweating, huffing, shaking, trying every pull he could.

The smoke began to take form, large, a last intimidating wave before it decided to consume this castle of peace, of escape.

No, no, no, no, not this, not that familiarity of the monster wolf, of those eyes of red, another of blue, evil grimaces with the most intimidating teeth, already gushing blood and wanting nothing but more to add. At every shout, at every try to get himself away from that spot, the monster only turned larger, a form of menace that did well to cover his entire being under its shadow.

Beilschmidt, Beilschmidt, Beilschmidt, Beilschmidt, it repeated like always, the last warning before it reigned, dropping its violence and destroy to pain and breaking.

Ludwig Beilschmidt.

Feliciano awoke with a heavy take of breath, only to release it in a scream, a sitting, hard to let it die down, hard to see in this darkness, in this clutching space. He had to give constant taps around his sheets and blankets to realize that he was in his room, alone, no ominous eyes in the darkness ready to consume him. He quickly headed to his bedside table, taking out the matches and lighting one of the scented candles he had there. It was a dim light, but enough to see, not so shinning, a relaxing orange settling in the room that was comfort and embracing warmth.

Once the scent of sea breeze from the candle reached him, he finally breathed easily, settling well on his bed, laying upon it in great relief.

A dream, a dream, it was only a dream. For a moment there was comfort in it, until he remembered that he hadn’t had those kinds of nightmares in a while. He thought them gone, he thought he could finally have that freedom in his dreams, liberated…but it wasn’t so.

It had been a long time since he had cried about them, since he had weakened so much into his bed, dreading their return, their surely continuing to haunt.

Ludwig Beilschmidt. This time they said his full name, reminding Feliciano of the fear in that family name, of his questions pertaining it. All over again to that unsettlement of years ago, wondering and wanting…only this time it was close, it was his teacher, those scolding blue eyes seeming more fearful now than ever. He had never been so terrified of him.

“Why didn’t you stop? Why didn’t you stop?” Feliciano scolded himself, gripping his head harshly as he slammed himself against his pillow.

< previous chapter next chapter >

#The Society of Romulus and Remus #TSORAR #GerIta #gerita fanfiction #gerita fanfic #gerita fic

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thelastdj · 3 years ago

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I may be a film nerd but I can tell you that I have absolutely zero knowledge about German Westerns from the 1800s— you gotta tell me more about that for sure! Haven’t heard of those comics either but I’m into most comics so I’ll have to check ‘em out sometime.

I think it’s pretty funny that your dream job ended up being a fear, funny how it works out that way.

I wasn’t really a theater kid personality wise, but I did a lot of theater when I was younger (aunt is an actress and I decided to try it out for myself). I think my main obsessions were like… Monsters, honestly? I knew everything about vampires and would probably get into a fistfight if someone tried argue with me about whether a werewolf could beat a vampire.

My mom also had all these decorative plates of monsters that were supposed to be for Halloween but I was utterly obsessed. I must’ve spent hours just looking at Al the little details on them— there was one of the Creature from the Black Lagoon that I remember real well. Otherwise I was really into cowboys and might’ve just wound up one if not for the fact that my parents couldn’t afford to let me keep taking horse riding lessons.

And then as a kid, well, I found an old assignment I did about what I wanted to be when I grew up and it was a doozy. I believe my dream FIRST job was a blacksmith, and then I went on to say that I wanted to have a bunch of different jobs— some notable ones including musician, something to do with cowboys, artist, and then I listed like a million more.

Do you collect anything, or is there anything you wish you could start a collection for? If you could decorate a room however you wanted, what would you do?

about the westerns, i mainly read the books, but there were a couple movies made as well. they’re by an author called karl may. i got the books from my grandfather when i was 11, and looking back they were a bit too violent for an 11 year old lmao. what kind of comics do you read?

monsters seems like a really interesting topic. so… could a werewolf beat a vampire?

thats really cool that your aunts an actress. theater or movies, if you don’t mind me asking?

i collect corks from wine bottles, mainly to make stuff out of. also that little ring you use to open soda cans. and of course, vinyl. i’d love to start collecting beads or something like that since there are so many really pretty ones. or, if i ever become a millionaire, guitars. do you collect anything?

wow, blacksmith isn’t really a common first dream job lol. how did you get the idea? did you read it somewhere, or is a family member a blacksmith?

i have put a lot of thought into this lmao. i’d love a room in the attic, with slanted ceilings y’know? the walls would be covered with posters and pictures and paintings. maybe paint a mural or smth on one side. i’d have a couple succulents or cacti on the window sill and white linen curtains. and fairy lights too. i’d have either a couch with lots of fabric patches on it and a random assortment of pillows or a hammock.

#mutualmatchup #valentine

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naernon · 7 years ago

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OC Questionnaire - Estryon Thramian

Found this in my drafts, and decided to finish off what I had to distract from the tediousness of trying to decide what to do with the aspect of his backstory mentioned earlier. I filled this out according to how he was at the very start/before the events of Skyrim, unless stated to be what happens later on.

Feel free to use this for your own OCs, I don’t mind.

TW; Mentions of pregnancy (of a trans man). Also, some NSFW implications.

GENERAL

Name: Estryon Thramian

Alias(es): Estre is a little nickname Ondolemar took to using later on. Arelnian, the parent who carried him and the only one he met (they died when he was two, his father died prior to his birth), also called him this. It is also his birth-name. Perhaps a bit of projection on my part. I don’t mind my birth-name. (altho it could just be because if i do mind it, i’m in for bad time from it)

Gender: Male.

Age: 25 years old.

Place of birth: Sunhold, Summerset Isle. Or rather, Alinor. Morning Star 19th, 4E 176 (The Ritual)

Spoken languages: Tamrielic and Altmeri. Unsure exactly how native languages vs the common tongue works in TES, but I’ll just assume/HC it’s either like Latin (commonly taught but not used in every-day conversation) or just very secondary compared to Tamrielic. So that’s the status on his knowledge of Altmeri. Also had a minor interest in Ayleidoon when he was younger, so he knows some basic vocab, but not too much. Like you know how some people go through HS and take the entirety of Spanish/German/Whichever for the full four years and as soon as they graduated they forgot all of it? That’s Estryon with Ayleidoon.

Sexual orientation: Gay.

Occupation: Thalmor agent. Mainly used in assassinations and to stoke the conflict in the Skyrim Civil War by framing (in murder, accusations of law-breaking, etc.), propaganda, etc. Prior to that, as I’ve recently elaborated, he was a member of a elite force in Summerset called the Accipiters. They’re, as said, are similar to the First AD’s Eyes of the Queen, except with more brutality and tendency to murder. They are charged with cutting down all heresy and resistance against the Thalmor in the Isles through more silent and undercover tactics. Through whatever course of events I settle with, he is suspended and demoted within the Accipiters and sent to Skyrim to work as, again, a basic Thalmor agent for the time being. It’s not like he’s put into a useless job. Thalmor forces in Skyrim, according to this , are rather stretched thin, and with someone as combat skilled as Estryon, his work is much, much needed. Doesn’t mean he likes it, though. He hates it.

APPEARANCE

Eye color: Vibrant yellow/amber.

Hair color: Pale cream/blonde color.

Height: 6′ to 6′3/4. Haven’t decided.

Scars: Slight slashes/cuts on his right cheek and a scar on his right bicep. Likes to use… risky methods in his assassinations because he’s a dumbass and that has given him a few severely close calls on fatal weak spots; there’s a medium-length scar across his left abdomen, a shallow, light scar on his collarbone (was an attempt at his heart), and a few small ones on his thighs.

Burns: No major ones, but a lot of little burn marks because 1.) He sucks at cooking and 2.) Little mishaps in destruction magic usage.

Overweight: No.

Underweight: No.

FAVOURITE

Color: Yellow.

Hair color: He likes lighter hair colors but it’s not a huge factor.

Eye color: Yellow, but as said, not too much of a preference.

Entertainment: Horse-back riding. Causing general issues and difficulty for those around him. Taking care of horses. This man really likes horses. He also has a fondness for burning different stuff he finds, some of that stuff being important shit to someone other than him. There’s one major entertainment he commits to a lot but I’ll leave that unmentioned for modesty’s sake.

Pastime: This dude really does not do a lot to entertain himself other than [censored]. He spends a lot of time meandering and wandering and just.. being there. Either that or he rapidly switches between different pastimes because he can’t stay with one for the life of him. (he gets bored very, very easily) But. If anything, as said, he likes to experiment with magic and alchemy, and he loves horseback-riding and taking pleasure rides. This easy tendency towards boredom leads to recklessness and an unhealthy lust for thrill and adventure.

Food: As typical of Sunhold natives, he gravitates towards sea-food and he likes crab. Not typical mudcrabs from just anywhere, however. As is common knowledge, there are a lot of different varieties of Mudcrabs and there’s one particular off the coast of Sunhold that is high-demand and very flavorful. But other than that, he has a guilty sweet tooth in general, and he B U S T S A N U T for vanilla ice cream.

Drink: He’s boring. He just likes water. He enjoys some lighter alcohol, though, and perhaps some tea, but again. Water.

Books: Enjoys magic studies and books. Doesn’t like a lot of heavy-information stuff other than that, though, but he does like a bunch of light interests like aromatics and alchemy. He has Arelnian and their large array of aromatic/alchemy books + store to thank for those two interests.

HAVE THEY

Passed university: Yes.

Had sex: Pft. Yeah.

Had sex in public: Depends. Like, straight up banging in like, a marketplace? Nah.

Gotten pregnant: No. Not during the events of Skyrim, at least. Not until much later.

Kissed a man: Yes.

Kissed a woman: Yes, once or twice.

Gotten tattoos: Yes. Little ones. He has an eagle wing on each side of each of his ankles, and the Dominion emblem on the back of his neck. All hurt like Hell (especially the Dominion emblem one) and he’s kind of halted off of getting any after that.

Gotten piercings: Ear piercings, yeah. He typically likes small gold hoops or little jewels, but he tends to go through long periods of time where he doesn’t have any in.

Been in love: Yes.

Had a broken heart: Oof. Yeah.

Stayed up for more than 24 hours: Yes. He oftentimes has trouble sleeping. Has been that way since he was little, according to Ohtehil, at least.

ARE THEY

A virgin: Pft. No.

A cuddler: Not really, but, I mean. He’s not beyond it. He’s just not a very personal person in general.

A kisser: Yes.

A smoker: Not frequently, no.

Scared easily: Not typically, and even if he is, he takes care to not show it. He might flinch and recoil and you can get a little bit of a gasp from him but other than that, no. Unless it’s something incredibly outlandish or unnatural or… terrifying. Like a dragon. A large, ebony black dragon with red eyes flying from the mountains and passing over you, rumbling the ground and triggering all your fight or flight instincts. Yeah. Kinda scary. (but even then all he did was dive out of sight and hide underneath a little rock overhang. he may have taken a bit of a tumble in the process but i’ll have you know his cold altmeri exterior ™ was still in-tact)

Jealous easily: Gods, yes. He wouldn’t let that be known, however.

Trustworthy: Absolutely Not

Dominant: In terms of personality, yeah. He hates being told what to do, he thrives on spiting others, and while he is quite reserved and quiet he still manages to be…. over-bearing and dominant. He has three very particular methods of getting what he wants and one of them is a glare that could kill and keeping all words to the minimum, while also having those words cut sharp. Does that make sense? He’s one of those people that just have an overpowering presence without the need to speak. That’s one reason he doesn’t have a lot of friends, really. Anyways. One other method is straight-up killing whoever he wishes to and the other… Well. If you’re talking dominance in bed, he adapts to what is needed, wanted, or what he’s in the mood for. Whatever leaves his target vulnerable to a swift kill, framing, or easy investigation of possible heresy/conspiracy. So yes, actually, I guess he is dominant. Quite so.

Submissive: In any other context other than the Spicee (tm) one, no, not really. If in that context, then, only if he wishes to be.

Single: Yes, no committal relationship until later. Although, there was one earlier, but I haven’t developed it completely. I’ll give a little peek. It was with Thalmor Agent Sanyon. That dead Thalmor, at a Talos shrine? Yeah. High-school sweethearts, if you will. Estryon finding Sanyon’s body at the shrine, or rather, going there at all ultimately sets the course of the events of the main questline. That little event, along with Ohtehil’s little ‘turn-into-a-werewolf-and-slaughter-all-your-colleagues’ theatrical go hand-in-hand in starting it all. Estryon finding Sanyon dead would not have happened at all if not for Ohtehil, actually.

RANDOM QUESTIONS

Have they harmed themselves: Minor things.

Thought of suicide: Yes.

Attempted suicide: No.

Wanted to kill someone: Yes.

Actually killed someone: Yes.

Ridden a horse: Yes. He’s quite the horseman.

Have/had a job: Yes.

Have any fears: He isn’t too fond of heights. Or blood.

FAMILY

Sibling(s): Ohtehil (22 years older) and Tretlas (55 years older).

Parents: Arelnian and Ciryarel Thramian. Both fought in the Great War/First War of the Empire on the Dominion’s side. Ciryarel was a skilled mage who worked rather high up in the Dominion and Arelnian was also well-respected as an informant and recruiter stationed primarily in Hammerfell. Ciryarel perished in the final battle and Arelnian received significant injury. Survived two years post-War, but a highly weakened immune system as a result of the injuries ultimately cost them their life.

Children: No. Later, however, he does adopt Lucia and Sofie and does have Diatres, his only biological child.

Pets: Cyrel, a smokey black and sleek Summerset-bred mare. Had her imported upon the discovery he would be suspended in Skyrim for longer than anticipated. Prior to that, she was being boarded for a rather expensive price over at the Sunhold stables. And then Umaril, a “Pocket” Salamander. Ohtehil got it for him for his 9th birthday not anticipating a long lifespan nor the HUGE size they grow to be. Once it started growing alarmingly fast and large Ohtehil figured as long as Estryon was enjoying himself it would be fine; once he grew older he could get rid of it if he tired of taking care of such a massive and intelligent creature. Estryon did not get rid of it. Quite the opposite. He’s the dude to have a suspiciously large bag being lugged around and you see him stop once he’s in the clear, unzip it, and suddenly his dog or in this case a very large monitor pokes his head out. His commitment to Umaril and Cyrel is incredible compared to his dedication towards actual people.

#long post #oc talk #oc; estryon #skyrim

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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Best Horror Movies Streaming on HBO Max

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Editor’s Note: This post is updated monthly. Bookmark this page and come back every month to see the new horror movies on HBO Max.

Updated for October 2020

What ever would we do without horror?

So much of our daily life is built around logic and known, verifiable facts, and for some, the rest of the time must be supplemented with comforting reassurances that everything is going to be alright. Well if the last year has taught us anything… that’s not the case. Perhaps this is why horror hounds know the best way to face abstract fears is to confront them head on… and preferably with a screen in the way.

So, with Halloween around the corner, we figured it’s time to get in touch with our illogical, terrified animal brain. That’s where horror and horror movies in particular come in. Gathered here are the best horror movies on HBO Max for your scaring needs.

Alien

“In space, no one can hear you scream,” the tagline for Ridley Scott’s 1979 sci-fi/horror epic promised. Well maybe they should have screened this thing in space because I’m sure all that audiences in theaters did was scream.

Alien has since evolved into a heady, science fiction franchise that has stretched out for decades. The original film, however, is a small-scale, terrifyingly claustrophobic thriller.

Altered States

What if you could tap into the vast swaths of the brain you never use? What if you did and didn’t like what we found? And what if it was an absolute psychedelic rush of a cinematic experience?

All three questions are answered in their own way during Ken Russell’s Altered States, a wild sci-fi thriller. In the film, William Hurt stars as a psychologist who begins experimenting with taking hallucinatory drugs while in a sensory depravation tank.

Yes, he manages to expand his consciousness; he also begins to expand his physical body as it transforms beneath his skin. Or does it? Well that’s yet another good question…

An American Werewolf in London

Arguably the definitive werewolf movie, John Landis’ 1981 horror masterpiece has the single greatest on-screen lycanthropic transformation in movie history… and that’s only one of its appeals.

Peppered with loving references to the werewolf movies that came before it and a few legitimate laughs to go along with the scares, An American Werewolf in London is remarkably knowing and self-aware, without ever flirting with parody.

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Not enough can be said about Rick Baker’s practical effects, which extend beyond the aforementioned on-screen transformation and into one of the most gruesome depictions of a werewolf attack aftermath you’re ever likely to see. A classic of the era, it still can get under the skin whenever Griffin Dunne’s mutilated corpse rises from the grave to warn his friend to “beware the moon.”

The Brood

I bet you never thought placenta could look so tasty, but when Samantha Eggar’s Nola Carveth licks her newborn clean you’ll be craving seconds within the hour. She brings feline intuition to female troubles. We get it. Having a new baby can be scary. Having a brood is terrifying. Feminine power is the most horrifying of all for male directors used to being in control.

David Cronenberg takes couples therapy one step too far in his 1979 psychological body-horror film, The Brood. When it came out critics called it reprehensible trash, but it is the writer-director’s most traditional horror story. Oliver Reed plays with mental illness like Bill Sikes played with the kids as Hal Raglan, the psychotherapist treating the ex-wife of Frank Carveth (Art Hindle). The film starts slow, unfolding its drama through cuts and bruises.

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Cronenberg unintentionally modifies the body of the Kramer vs. Kramer story in The Brood, but the murderous munchkins at the external womb of the film want a little more than undercooked French toast.

Carnival of Souls

Carnival of Souls may be the most unlikely of chillers to appear in the Criterion Collection. Hailing from the great state of Kansas and helmed by commercial director Herk Harvey, who was looking for his big break in features, there is something hand-crafted about the whole affair. There’s also something unmistakably eerie.

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The story is fairly basic campfire boilerplate, following a woman (Candace Hilligoss) who survives a car crash but is then haunted by the sound of music and visions of the ghoulish dead–beckoning her toward a decrepit carnival abandoned some years earlier–and the acting can leave something to be desired. But the dreadful dreamlike atmosphere is irresistible.

With a strong sense of fatalism and inescapable doom, the film takes an almost melodic and disinterested gait as it stalks its heroine to her inevitable end, presenting images of the walking dead that linger in the mind long after the credits roll.

The Curse of Frankenstein

Hammer is probably best remembered now for its series of Christopher Lee-starring Dracula movies. Yet its oddball Frankenstein franchise deserves recognition too. While Hammer’s efforts certainly pale in comparison to the Frankenstein movies produced by Universal Pictures in the 1930s and ’40s, the Hammer ones remain distinctly unique. Whereas the Creature was the star of the earlier films, so much so the studio kept changing the actor beneath the Jack Pierce makeup after Boris Karloff got fed up three movies in, the not-so-good doctor leads the Hammer alternatives.

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Indeed, between bouts of playing the almost sickeningly pious Abraham Van Helsing, Peter Cushing portrayed a perverse and dastardly Victor Frankenstein at Hammer, and it all begins with The Curse of Frankenstein. It isn’t necessarily the best movie in the series, but it introduces us to Cushing’s cruel scientist, played here as less mad than malevolent.

It also features Christopher Lee in wonderfully grotesque monster makeup. This is the film where Hammer began forming an identity that would become infamous in the realm of horror.

The Conjuring 2

Making an effective, truly spooky mainstream horror film is hard enough. But The Conjuring franchise really nailed things out of the gate with a sequel that is every bit as fun and terrifying as the original.

Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga return as paranormal investigators Ed and Lorraine Warren in The Conjuring 2. This time the Warrens head to Great Britain to attend to the Hodgson family, dealing with some poltergeist problems in their Enfield home. The source of the Enfield haunting’s activity contains some of the most disturbing and terrifying visuals in the entire Conjuring franchise and helped to set up a (sadly pretty bad) spinoff sequel in The Nun.

Doctor Sleep

Let’s be up front about this: Doctor Sleep is not The Shining. For some that fact will make this sequel’s existence unforgivable. Yet there is a stoic beauty and creepy despair just waiting to be experienced by those willing to accept Doctor Sleep on its own terms.

Directed by one of the genre’s modern masters, Mike Flanagan, the movie had the unenviable task of combining one of King’s most disappointing texts with the opposing sensibilities of Stanley Kubrick’s singular The Shining adaptation.

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And yet, the result is an effective thriller about lifelong regrets and trauma personified by the ghostly specters of the Overlook Hotel. But they’re far from the only horrors here. Rebecca Ferguson is absolutely chilling as the smiling villain Rose the Hat, and the scene where she and other literal energy vampires descend upon young Jacob Tremblay is the stuff of nightmares. Genuinely, it’s a scene you won’t forget, for better or worse….

Dracula Has Risen from the Grave

Hammer Films’ fourth Dracula movie, and third to star the ever reluctant Christopher Lee, is by some fans’ account the most entertaining one. While it lacks the polish and ultimate respectability of Lee’s first outing as the vampire, Horror of Dracula (which you can read more about below), just as it is missing the invaluable Peter Cushing, Dracula Has Risen from the Grave arrived in 1968 at the crossroads of Hammer’s pulpy aesthetic. Their films had not yet devolved into exploitative shlock as they would a few years later, but the censors seemingly were throwing up their hands and allowing for the studio’s vampires to be meaner, bloodier, and sexier.

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In this particular romp, Dracula has indeed risen from the grave (yes, again!) because of the good intentions of one German monsignor (Rupert Davies). The religious leader is in central Europe to save souls, but the local denizens of a village won’t go to a church caught in the shadow of Castle Dracula. So the priest exorcises the structure, oblivious that his sidekick is also accidentally dripping blood into the mouth of Dracula’s corpse down the river. Boom he’s back!

And yet, our fair Count can’t enter his home anymore. So for revenge, Dracula follows the monsignor to his house and lays eyes on the patriarch’s comely young niece (Veronica Carlson). You can probably figure out the rest.

Eraserhead

“In Heaven, everything is fine,” sings the Lady in the Radiator in Eraserhead. “You’ve got your good things, and I’ve got mine.”

You may get something short of paradise, but the insular world David Lynch created for his 1977 experimental existential horror film is a land of mundane wonders, commonplace mysteries, and extremely awkward dinner conversations. Lynch’s first feature film is surrealistic, expressionistic, and musically comic. The minor key score and jarring black and white images bring half-lives to the industrial backdrop and exquisite squalor. At its heart though, Eraserhead is poignant, sad, and ultimately relatable on a universal level.

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Jack Nance’s Henry Spencer is the spiky-haired everyman. He works hard at his job, cares deeply for his deformed, mutant child, and is desperate to please his extended family. Lynch lays a comedy of manners in a rude, crude city. The film is an assault on the senses, and it might take a little while for the viewer’s brains to adjust to the images on the screen; it is a different reality, and not an entirely inviting one, but stick with it. Once you’re in with the in-laws, you’re home free. When you make it to the end, you can tell your friends you watched all of Eraserhead. When they ask you what it’s about, you can tell them you saw it.

Eyes Without a Face

“I’ve done so much wrong to perform this miracle,” Doctor Génessier (Pierre Brasseur) confesses in the 1960 horror film Eyes Without a Face. But he says it in French, making it all so much more poignant, allowing it to underscore everything director and co-writer Georges Franju did right. We feel for the respectable plastic surgeon forced to do monstrous things. But the monster behind the title character is his young daughter Christiane (Édith Scob). She spends the majority of the film behind a mask, even more featureless than the unpainted plastic Captain Kirk kid’s costume Michael Myers wore in Halloween. The first time we see her face though, the shock wears off quickly and we are more moved than terrified.

Like Val Lewton films, the horror comes from the desolate black-and-white atmosphere, shrouding the claustrophobic suspense in German Expressionism. Maurice Jarre’s score evokes a Gothic carnival as much as a mad scientist’s laboratory. After his daughter’s face is hideously disfigured in an accident, Dr. Génessier becomes obsessed with trying to restore it. We aren’t shown much, until we’re shown too much. We see his heterograft surgical procedure in real time. A woman’s face is slowly flayed from the muscle. The graphic scenes pack more of a visceral shock after all the encroaching dread.

Godzilla

As the original and by far still the best Godzilla movie ever produced, this 1954 classic (originally titled Gojira), is one of the many great Showa Era classics that the Criterion Collection and HBO Max are making readily available to American audiences. And if you want to watch one that is actually scary, look no further.

In this original uncut Japanese form, the movie’s genuine dread of nuclear devastation, as well as nightly air raids, less than 10 years since World War II ended in several mushroom clouds, is overwhelming. Tapping into the real cultural anxiety of a nation left marred by the memory of its dead, as well as the recent incident of a fishing crew being contaminated by unannounced hydrogen bomb testing at Bikini Atoll, Godzilla encapsulates terror for the atomic age in a giant lizard.

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And unlike the sequels there is nothing cuddly or amusing about this original Kaiju with its scarred body and legion of tumors. This is the one Godzilla movie to play it straight, and it still plays today.

Horror of Dracula

Replacing Bela Lugosi as Dracula was not easily done in 1958. It’s still not easily done now. Which makes the fact that Christopher Lee turned Bram Stoker’s vampire into his own screen legend in Horror of Dracula all the more remarkable. Filmed in vivid color by director Terence Fisher, Horror of Dracula brought gushing bright red to the movie vampire, which up until then had been mostly relegated to black and white shadows.

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With its penchant for gore and heaving bosoms, Horror of Dracula set the template for what became Hammer Film Productions’ singular brand of horror iconography, but it’s also done rather tastefully the first time out here, not least of all because of Lee bring this aggressively cold-blooded version of Stoker’s monster to life. It’s all business with this guy.

Conversely, Abraham Van Helsing was never more dashing than when played by Peter Cushing in this movie. The film turned both into genre stars, and paved the way for a career of doing this dance time and again.

The Invisible Man

After years of false starts and failed attempts at resurrecting the classic Universal Monsters, Universal Pictures finally figured out how to make it work: They called Blumhouse Productions.

Yep, Jason Blum’s home for micro-budgeted modern horror worked wonders alongside writer-director Leigh Whannell in updating the classic 1933 James Whale movie, and the H.G. Wells novel on which it is based, for the 21st century.

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Turning the story of a man who masters invisibility into a horrific experience told from the vantage of the woman trying to escape his toxic violence, The Invisible Man becomes a disquieting allegory for the #MeToo era. It also is a devastating showcase for Elisabeth Moss who is compelling as Cecilia, the abused and gaslighted woman that barely found the will to escape, yet will now have to discover more strength since everyone around her shrugs off the idea of her dead ex coming back as an invisible man…

Lifeforce

Most assuredly a horror movie for a very acquired taste, there are few who would call Tobe Hooper’s career-destroying Lifeforce a good movie. There probably aren’t even many who would call it a fun movie. But for those with a singular taste for batshit pulp run amok, Lifeforce needs to be seen to be believed: Naked French vampire girls from outer space! Hordes of extras as zombies marauding through downtown London! Lush Henry Mancini music over special effects way outside of Cannon Films’ budget!!! Patrick Stewart as an authority figure possessed by said naked French space vampire, trying to seduce an astronaut via makeout sessions?!

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… What is this movie? Why does it exist? We don’t know, but we’re probably more glad it does than the people who made it.

Magic

As much a psychological case study as as a traditional horror movie, for those who like their terror rooted in humanity, Magic may be the creepiest iteration of the “killer doll” subgenre since this is about the man who thinks his dummy is alive. Starring Anthony Hopkins before he was Hannibal, or had a “Sir” in front of his name, Magic is the brain child of William Goldman, who adapted his own novel into this movie before he’d go on to do the same for The Princess Bride (as well as adapt Stephen King’s Misery), but after he’d already written Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and Marathon Man.

In the film, Hopkins stars as Corky, a down on his luck ventriloquist who tries to get his life together by tracking down his high school sweetheart (Ann-Margret). She’ll soon probably wish he didn’t bother once she realizes Corky believes his ventriloquist dummy Fats really is magic… and is determined to get him to act on the most heinous of impulses.

The Most Dangerous Game

Before King Kong, Merian C. Cooper and Ernest B. Schoedsack released The Most Dangerous Game, one of the all-time great pulp movies, based on a short story by Richard Connell. This classic has influenced everything from Predator to The Running Man, The Hunger Games to Ready or Not.

It’s the story of a big game hunter who shipwrecks on a remote island with an eccentric Russian Count who escaped the Bolshevik Revolution (Leslie Banks). The wayward noble now drinks, studies, and charms his apparently frequent array of unannounced guests, including two other survivors from a previous (suspicious) wreck. The film quickly boils down to a mad rich man determined to hunt his guests as prey across the island for the ultimate thrill.

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Man hunting man, man lusting after woman in a queasy pre-Code fashion, this is a primal throwback to adventure yarns of the 19th century, which were still relatively recent in 1932. Shot simultaneously with King Kong, this is 63 brisk minutes of excitement, dread, and delicious overacting. Let the games begin.

Night of the Living Dead

“They’re coming to get you, Barbara!”

The zombie movie that more or less invented our modern understanding of what a zombie movie is, there is little new that can be said about George A. Romero’s original guts and brains classic, Night of the Living Dead. Shot in black and white and on almost no budget, the film reimagined zombies as a horde of ravenous flesh-eaters, as opposed to a lowly servant of the damned and enchanted.

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Still visually striking in black and white, perhaps the key reason to go back to the zombie movie that started it all is due to how tragically potent its central conflict from 1968 remains: When strangers are forced to join forces and barricade in a farmhouse to survive a zombie invasion, the wealthy white businessman is constantly at odds with the young Black man in the group, to the point of drawing weapons…

Ready or Not

The surprise horror joy of 2019, Ready or Not was a wicked breath of fresh air from the creative team Radio Silence. With a star-making lead turn by Samara Weaving, the movie is essentially a reworking of The Most Dangerous Game where a bride is being hunted by her groom’s entire wedding party on the night of their nuptials.

It’s a nutty premise that has a delicious (and broad) satirical subtext about the indulgences and eccentricities of the rich, as the would-be extended family of Grace (Weaving) is only pursuing her because they’re convinced a grandfather made a deal with the Devil for their wealth–and to keep it they must step on those beneath them every generation. Well step, shoot, stab, and ritualistically sacrifice in this cruelest game of hide and seek ever. Come for the gonzo high-concept and stay for the supremely satisfying ending.

Sisters

One of the scariest things about the 1972 psychological thriller Sisters is the subliminal sounds of bones creaking and muscles readjusting during the slasher scenes. Margot Kidder plays both title characters: conjoined twins, French Canadian model Danielle Breton and asylum-committed Dominique Blanchion, who had been surgically separated. Director Brian De Palma puts the movie together like a feature-long presentation of the shower scene in Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho. The camera lingers over bodies, bloodied or pristine, mobile or prone, with fetishistic glee before instilling the crime scenes in the mind’s eye. He allows longtime Hitchcock composer Bernard Herrmann to assault the ear.

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De Palma was inspired by a photograph of Masha and Dasha Krivoshlyapova, Russian conjoined twins with seemingly polarized temperaments. There may be no deeper bond than blood, which the film has plenty of, but the real alter ego comes from splitscreen compositions and an outside intruder. The voyeuristic delight culminates in a surgical dream sequence with freaks, geeks, a giant, and dwarves. Nothing is as it seems and an out-of-order telephone is a triggering reminder.

Jordan Peele’s debut feature Get Out was a near instant horror classic so anticipation was high for his follow-up. Thanks to an excellent script, Peele’s deep appreciation of pop culture, and some stellar performances, Us mostly lived up to the hype.

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The film tells the story of the Wilson family from Santa Cruz. After a seemingly normal trip to a summer home and the beach, Adelaide (Lupita Nyong’o), Gabe (Winston Duke) and their two kids are confronted by their own doppelgangers, are weird, barely verbal, and wearing red. But then Adelaide is not terribly surprised given her own personal childhood traumas. And that’s only the beginning of the horror at play. Fittingly, Us feels like a feature length Twilight Zone concept done right.

Vampyr

A nigh silent picture, Vampyr came at a point of transition for its director Carl Th. Dreyer. The Danish filmmaker, who often worked in Germany and France at this time, was making only his second “talkie” when he mounted this vampire opus. That might be why the movie is largely absent of dialogue. The plot, which focuses on a young man journeying to a village that is under the thrall of a vampire, owes much to Bram Stoker’s Dracula as well as F.W. Murnau’s Nosferatu from some years earlier.

Yet there horror fans should seek Vampyr out, if for no other reason than the stunning visuals and cinematography. Alternating between German Expressionist influences in its use to shadows to unsettling images crafted in naturalistic light, such as a boatman carrying an ominous scythe, this a a classic of mood and atmosphere. Better still is when they combine, such as when the scythe comes back to bedevil a woman sleeping, trapping us all in her nightmare. Even if its narrative has been told better, before and after, there’s a reason this movie’s iconography lingers nearly a century later.

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