#vampire terzo just hits different

[ghuleh-recs]

every day this month I'm going to recommend a different spooky ghost fic! today's rec is:

Cirice - @ghostchems - E, 3.5k

you are searching for inspiration at the site of a local urban legend but something beckons to you

“Perhaps, I will show you some mercy, then.” His breath is hot on your ear before his mouth moves lower to your neck. You brace yourself against the wall as your heart starts to thud in your chest. Conflicting feelings run through your mind, fear and attraction mixing in a way you have never experienced before.

𖤐 you know the drill--bookmark, read, leave kudos and/or comments!

(browse the other rectober posts here.)

[sweatandwoe]

Death is Cold.

Warm up, which is ironic cause this is all about being cold. (And Terzo being dead)

Warnings; No pairings, Terzo POV, Vampire!Terzo, body horror, blood, very slight gore, death.

-

Death is cold.

He can remember the feeling of it, though a brief feeling it was. The first slice was a hack at the back of his neck from a clergyman whose face he would never see. It doesn't cut through fully, the blade is too dull or the man lacks the force. Just enough to slice and crack his bones. Warmth spills out from the back of his neck from the blow still and emerges out of his mouth.

The warmth, his blood spilling out of him, his life pooling around on the grass. They had not waited for anything else to kill him, the drugs were there just in case he managed to survive this.

But how could he survive this?

The reality was he could not. He closed his eyes one final time, just feeling the second swing before everything became nothing.

It should've been the final time he had closed his eyes. But fate was not so kind to him. Or rather the clergy.

He remembers the pain, the agony of re-birth. Because it was not proper. He was not reborn as a new babe or into the form of a ghost. No, they had taken his years-old body and pretended it could be re-made. But it was wrong, he knew that as he screamed the entire time. It was like being set on fire, and yet lacking any warmth.

Being pulled back into the living world was a pain he never expected. Death only a blink of his eyes, and yet its cold grip still remained on him.

He is undead. Re-made. Not in God or Lucifer's image.

And it's so cold.

The first few weeks, he could get warmth still from the people around him. His and his brothers' return was greeted with celebrations. Primo and Secondo didn't seem to lack warmth, not in the same way, though there was a shared coldness between the three of them. His brothers' bodies had remained intact.

Terzo's had not. Maybe that's why he is different. Why he wakes one morning, months after, to find his mouth cold and slick, his jaw aching and his teeth feeling too tight. When he moves to wipe his mouth, he looks and sees the red against his fingers.

Moving to the bathroom swiftly, to stare at himself in the mirror. To open his mouth, and have a cold, deep red liquid drip from it. His blood held no warmth, even now while it coats his mouth. The only thing unmarred from the red are the new white, sharp points of his teeth.

He watches as the blood drips from his mouth, landing in the sink. Mismatched eyes flick down to it, seeing how it stains the porcelain, turning it pink. Yet he can't stop watching, this cold liquid of life dripping out of him.

Not alive, so why did he carry it.

The hunger sets in over the next few weeks. It is the only way to describe his craving, one that sex and laughter do not fill. They had kept him warm for a time, but now they do even hold an ember of heat.

He finds himself staring at throats and chests. If he focuses close enough, he can hear the faint heartbeats of the siblings of sin around him. Getting a little taste of their life, their warmth. But it's like a hit that he can't stop taking.

Until one night, he takes too much.

They will question him in the morning, and he will not know what to say. He doesn't remember the attack, and yet there is a body beneath him. Cold, bleeding from the throat, with eyes soft and open but seeing nothing. The wound is deep, spilling out a deep red, that shines in the moonlight.

But he is warm. It will only last so long, he thinks, leaning down to lick over the blood. Their body is still warm, and he curls himself on top of it.

He would like to remain warm.

[writingjourney]

hi, this is seriously out of the blue but i felt i had to share, i legitimately read friday nights at the cinema club every day at LEAST twice. it hits every single time, and it’s written so beautifully !! it’s such a beautiful fic, and i truly adore everything you write. but that story has such a place in my heart now, nestled in super tight !!

i know you’ve mentioned vampire secondo before and i am rubbing my hands together in anticipation because i just KNOW it’s gonna blow my mind !! you’re genuinely such a talented writer :)

ANON omg that makes me so happy!! ♡

I was stuck so bad in the brain rot when I wrote this fic, it was so much fun and I miss working on these lengthy one-shots. It's probably my favorite thing to do when I do get an idea that really takes over my brain.

I say I miss it but I am working hard on that Secondo fic right now. After only really writing shorter fics and IKNBS chapters it's nice to be able to write something that just feels a little different, you know?

I really hope you're all gonna like it because it's quite the undertaking with how I structured it and a little unusual maybe. And there will be a story each for Terzo and Copia as well in the future ♡