#what loneliness will do to you when you're immortal...

[ncarnesir]

A Story of her Own

This is the story of a Sun Summoner that is much much older than the Darkling and is looking for her own haven if one might say. Can Aleksander be that for her? Is it even what she's looking for? Well you'll have to read the story to know ;)

Art on the moodboard is from Abel Klaer

Back in 2021, after watching Shadow and Bone for the first time, I somehow got inspired and started writing. And the result was this, my very first fanfic, A Story of her Own.

To be honest, there are a lot of cringe parts specially in the beginning and you can tell I'm newbie writer, but I'm still super proud of it. What I'm less proud of is that it's still not finished, but I've been working a lot on it recently so maybe I'm finally going to complete this.

I am taking a looooot of liberties in this, regarding canon, the magic system, the history of the world. But I do think it's at least coherent. Also there's a lot of smut because... I like that.

Chapters: 41/~70

Fandom: Shadow and Bone (TV), The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con

Relationships: The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova/Alina Starkov, The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova/Zoya Nazyalensky, Mal Oretsev/Alina Starkov, Zoya Nazyalensky/Mal Oretsev

Characters: The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova, Alina Starkov, Mal Oretsev, Baghra (The Grisha Trilogy), Genya Safin, Zoya Nazyalensky, Ivan (The Grisha Trilogy), Fedyor Kaminsky, Nikolai Lantsov, Nina Zenik

Additional Tags: Darklina - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Happy Ending, Endgame The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova/Alina Starkov, Romance, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Mutual Pining, Simp The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova, BAMF Alina Starkov, Morally Grey Alina Starkov, Sankta Alina Starkov, Older Alina, Older Woman/Younger Man, Who's scheming really ?, Morally Ambiguous Character, different POV, Minor Character Death, mild graphic depiction of violence, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempts, annoying pet names, Mention of triggering subjects coming in the future, Potentially more graphic depiction of violence coming in the future, Unlucky Zoya, Sun Soldier Malyen, BFF Genya, We hate Baghra, Scheming Nikolai, Apparat is not a bad guy, Several Explicit Sex Scene, Dubious Consent, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Dream Sex, Manipulative sex, Rough Sex, Minor sex scene between The Darkling / Zoya (before Alina), Minor oral sex scene between Malyen / Alina, Personal interpretation of how amplifiers work, Personal interpretation of different grishaverse myths, Mainly based on the show, And the Wiki, English is not my 1st language, English is not my beta’s 1st language either, This thing is a full story (with plenty of smut for fun), Rated non-con because, Dream sex she doesn't know is not really a dream, Kissing while the other is not aware, NO rape

Summary:

Everyone always supposed the Sun Summoner would appear one day, the Darkling first, but somehow, they never imagined that maybe she was already there, among them.

Or how Alina is much older than she looks like and is playing a game of her own.

[mononijikayu]

immortal sukuna who — in your first life (2).

immortal sukuna masterlist

the first time immortal sukuna discovered snow was when he was a young boy holding at his mother's skirts.

immortal sukuna did not know what he was looking at, but all he could see from the vast expanse was a blanket of white on mountain's edges.

it was all too cold for immortal sukuna's body, to the point where he could no longer feel his lips, nor the movement of his eyes.

immortal sukuna could not remember why his mother had brought him in the cold mountain in the first place, but all he remembers is her desperate eyes.

from then on, immortal sukuna's experience with winter was that of cold loneliness and bleak memories from that bleak mid-winter.

his first winter with you was a different experience for immortal sukuna, one that he'd never lived before.

you lived in the deep forests, but snow continued to fall as heavily as it did in that mountain. yet it was warmest immortal sukuna had ever been.

you smiled at him as you told immortal sukuna to sit down, enjoy the stew you had cooked while you added firewood into the bonfire.

he'd never really had this sort of comfort before, that immortal sukuna had thought a lot.

for he had lived alone most of his life, at least what immortal sukuna remembers.

all those winters have been triumph by this one, as simple and small as it was to most. but it was everything, it was the world to immortal sukuna.

immortal sukuna likes to think that it was because of you. it was because of this humble stew in his arms, the smile on your lips as you breathed upon the fire to life.

you walk towards him, with a smile on your face. "come on, sukuna. eat. you need to keep warm, hm?"

immortal sukuna did not know what to say. for all your warmth was enough to keep the cold at bay on its own.

immortal sukuna gives you a small nod, which makes your smile go wider for him, reaching your beautiful eyes.

immortal sukuna thinks that your smile reminded him of a crescent moon, guiding the world with your tender light.

"sukuna, do you know what the color of snow was?" you asked him with a tender look.

immortal sukuna shook his head at you. what an odd question. but it was also a good one. what was the color of snow? was there even one?

"no one knows." you tell him in response, laughing. "because it's forgotten what color it was. well, at least that's what my mother said."

immortal sukuna thinks he could replay the sound of your laughter for the rest of his life. because it was so beautiful, so pure.

you were the purest thing immortal sukuna had ever known in life, almost as pure as the driven snow.

"if you're done eating, let's go outside." you whispered to sukuna, grinning from ear to ear. "let's go play!"

immortal sukuna blinks at you as you rummaged through your belongings and came towards him, wrapping a red woolen scarf on him.

"keep warm today, okay?" you say to him as you finished wrapping it up safely on sukuna's neck. "i don't want you getting sick."

immortal sukuna does not know what the color of snow was, perhaps no one will ever know in this life.

but as immortal sukuna saw you running around in your fur boots, enjoying the enchanted snow, he thinks that this is it.

this is the color of snow. you. you were the color of snow to immortal sukuna.

for the rest of his immortal life, immortal sukuna thinks nothing comes close to this coloring his life.

the color of snow may have been forgotten and never be known again. but to immortal sukuna, that was fine.

because as long as he remembers you, immortal sukuna will remember what snow truly looks like, what it feels like.

[sugar-grigri]

Pochita, if you can read, why don't you speak ?

Wouldn't it be humane to protect humanity and demonic to protect the underworld? And what if... it was actually the other way around.

The interweaving of questions and answers is exactly what this chapter does.

While Yoru sordidly states that children are nothing more than the property of their parents, the one who can't speak, instead of devouring a human as he did with all those demons, decides to go to the blood drive.

Pochita understood what the sign meant. He knows how to talk. But he'd rather hold up that sign and roar than make any demands.

Worse still, he does not decide to give any orders.

It's not words that symbolise order, it's that raised index finger that already in Roman times expressed command.

In the United States, arms are a constitutional right (as recently reiterated by the Supreme Court, which does not admit of any restrictions), a fundamental freedom but also a means of preserving one's freedom, allowing organised militias to fight and protect the State.

You can see how it's all a construction, the weapons are a technological creation, the State is an administrative and political creation.

And that's where things get interesting. First of all, this chapter is highly symbolic and has a very strong political message (oh my god, political interpretation in a manga, impossible..........)

Yoru has sliced off the index fingers of those who support the right to bear arms in the United States. Or campaign for that freedom. But what Yoru is doing. In fact, it's taking it away from them. How can I shoot without this index finger? You can't do it.

It's by taking weapons away from men that they actually regain their freedom.

But it goes even further than that. Why does Yoru sacrifice these fingers? Because it reinforces the fear of weapons. Let's say I point a gun at you (sorry). You'd be less scared if you were as armed as I am. Especially when you're trained, know how to defend yourself and aren't afraid to shoot.

Yoru makes those who thought they were invincible with weapons vulnerable. She strengthens the Gun Devil's power. She contracts with them through her sacrificed child.

Weapons,

freedom,

deprivation of childhood,

of loved ones,

obsession with a mentor,

To think that a god created them.

Remind you of anyone?

Infanticide is what makes you immortal.

The sacrificed demons become weapons, lost between humanity and the demons. Not being human, nor demon, because they have no parents. Even artificial weapons like Reze and Katana display these characteristics. Isn't loneliness one of the ingredients?

Humanity sacrifices its children. As Fujimoto confirmed, they were prepared to do it for eternal youth.

And now you're going to say to me. NOOOO! Yoru too! Just as Makima wouldn't hesitate to do. The demons are also ready to do it.

Yes, because they are influenced by men.

Yoru speaks, uniting with humanity to say horrible things. Whereas Pochita doesn't speak. Worse still, he has chosen not to speak. Worst of the worst, even worse. He'd rather be a dog than a human. That's his choice.

Pochita fights for those he loves, he doesn't sacrifice them.

The demon of birth, it swallows but can spit out. Suspending existence, giving it new life, denying none of it.

Wasn't Makima devoured by Denji proof of this?

Nayuta is the symbol of this rebirth. A perpetual love that surpasses hate.

Pochita loves demons. He also loves those who mean something to him, like Denji. But he also knows that when we become too human, we can end up sacrificing ourselves out of vanity rather than love.

Pochita has sacrificed himself for love, without expecting anything in return as he waits permanently for Denji's dreams.

He is also Denji's lock, preventing him from fully adapting to men.

That's why killing Black CSM was Denji's wish come true. Because Pochita is preventing Denji from becoming normal.

Because he wants to protect him from humanity. Pochita has never been for humanity.

He is simply the guardian of the underworld, all those demons whose existence he guards, a supreme mother. Humanity must endure in order to continue to be afraid. But if humanity is prepared to overcome the ultimate fear of losing its child, then fear is scorned.

So Pochita tried to wipe out the weapons' existence, to devour them. But they still existed. Why? Because they are already the result of infanticide.

being devoured by the demon of birth, mother of the underworld, actually reinforces their existence.

Being devoured by their mother is the reason for their nature.

Whereas weapons are beings born because their mother has killed them.

Denji is the result of the death of the Supreme Mother.

It's not a weapon.

He's a wall.

Hero of the underworld.

A hero of the underworld who has been fighting from the start for the victory of love, sacrificing himself for those he loves and not sacrificing them. So he asks for blood.

And I'm sorry. If weapons really are born like that, they have to look human, and I think this is the last possessed human.

Someone's been ringing the doorbell.....for 100 chapters… it's time to answer it, isn't it?

[dootznbootz]

LOVED the Vengeance saga, hated Calypso's song I'm sorry

**is being creepy and obsessive over a man who's clearly in distress and doesn't like her, as well as she ACTIVELY keeps him on her island for SEVEN YEARS against his will** "W-Well my love is just too much for you"

I get she didn't rape him in EPIC, but she was still terrible towards him and washing down to "her love was just too much for him" is a bit iffy to me :((

Honestly? I think "I'm Not Sorry For Loving You" is actually fantastic in showing HOW Manipulative and selfish she is.

She's doing a "Woe is me" with her loneliness, she is still somewhat putting the "blame" on Odysseus with her "My love being too much for you, sorry that you can't handle it", when it's straight up not taking no for an answer, she even constantly speaks over Odysseus. Yeah, she's "not sorry".

Even with her beautiful voice, (wonderful job Barbara Wangui!) and sweet melody, it's like she IS supposed to be this "perfect paradise, song, goddess, etc."

What really bothers me is Epic Odysseus' "I love you...Just not in the way you want me to".

I think there either needs to be more apprehension in his voice when he says that. Maybe even in Calypso's tangent, he realizes "oh shit, she's making the island do shit. oh think quick to calm her down." and then having to say "Not in the way you want me to." to still make it clear that he's leaving.

I hope we get an explanation from Jay for his wording here? Because while Odysseus did appreciate Calypso helping him heal and recover from being at sea without food and water for a while AND most likely injuries in general, like...He Never loved her.

In some ways, I almost wish we got a bit more of the Odyssey for his answer. As Calypso, basically mocks Penelope and "why do you wanna go back to her? She will age and I won't. this place is perfect. I am perfect."

And then Odysseus being like "...You're an immortal goddess, ofc, she can't compare to you. She will age and go old. But I will stop at nothing to get back home. I've already been through so much shit, if it means going home, I can go through more."

[...] But if you only knew, down deep, what pains you’d stay right here, preside in our house with me and be immortal. Much as you long to see your wife, the one you pine for all your days … and yet I just might claim to be nothing less than she, neither in face nor figure. Hardly right, is it, for mortal woman to rival immortal goddess? How, in build? in beauty?” “Ah great goddess,” worldly Odysseus answered, “don’t be angry with me, please. All that you say is true, how well I know. Look at my wise Penelope. She falls far short of you, your beauty, stature. She is mortal after all and you, you never age or die … Nevertheless I long—I pine, all my days— to travel home and see the dawn of my return. And if a god will wreck me yet again on the wine-dark sea, I can bear that too, with a spirit tempered to endure. Much have I suffered, labored long and hard by now in the waves and wars. Add this to the total— bring the trial on!”

(Book 5, Fagles)

Puttng in Fitzgerald's too because I wike it :3

"[...] If you could see it all, before you go -All the adversity you face at sea- you would stay here, and guard this house, and be immortal- though you've wanted her forever, that bride for whom you pine each day. Can I be less desirable than she is? Less interesting? Less beautiful? Can mortals compare with goddesses in grace and form?" To this the strategist Odysseus answered: "My lady goddess, here is no cause for anger. My quiet Penelope-- how well I know--would seem a shade before your majesty, death and old age being unknown to you, while she must die. Yet, it is true, each day I long for home, long for the sight of my home. If any god has marked me out again for shipwreck, my tough heart can undergo it. What hardship have I not long since endured at sea, in battle! Let the trial come."

Even his usage of just simply defending Penelope by saying "My Wise Penelope" and how he's still saying "Yep! You are a goddess! Penelope is mortal... I'm still going home!"

This is something I find interesting with Epic Odysseus on Ogygia: After he speaks of Penelope the first few times in "Love in Paradise". He doesn't really talk about her on Ogygia again. Even at the ending of "Love in Paradise", when he's about to "close his eyes", he doesn't speak of Penelope or anything. Which is like, his one driving force for living at this point, in the Odyssey and the Musical. He's just wracked by grief, when it's mostly the fact that he's fucking TRAPPED and can't leave to go HOME.

It makes me wonder if for Epic Odysseus, he is trying to not mention Penelope as much to keep Calypso's anger at bay. Especially when you think of how in the source material, Calypso mocks Penelope and he has to carefully word things to not anger her as a goddess yet still make it clear that he will leave. He wants to leave and he doesn't care if there's more shit he has to deal with. He has to try.

Or maybe it's a spell of some sort. idk. Especially as we have Odysseus once more singing about Penelope and how much he longs for her once he's off Ogygia. Just a thought :P

I almost get this weird vibe that Epic is making Circe more of a "villain" than Calypso (which yes. Circe did coerce Odysseus in the Odyssey and was trying to in Epic. I literally wrote a whole essay about it.) But like, in comparison, Circe in Epic is not nearly as bad as Calypso in Epic. Same in the Odyssey. Like Circe DOES eventually become an "ally" after Odysseus begs her to let him leave, Calypso had to be FORCED to let him go. IN BOTH EPIC AND THE ODYSSEY.

idk. funky feelings :/

[calisources]

CHILDREN   OF   THE   NIGHT.   a   collection   of   quotes   and   scenarios   about   vampires.   change   pronouns/names   as   you   see   fit.   These   were   all   taken   from   different   sources   of   fiction,   both   in   literature   and   audiovisual   media.   all   known   triggers   for   vampire   media   apply   (blood,   death,   murder,   gothic   horror, obsessive love   and   more).

SENTENCES AND QUOTES. change pronouns and names, locations as you see fit.

"I took mythology a lot more seriously since I’d become a vampire."

“None of us really changes over time; we only become more fully what we are.”

"A vampire, like a lady, never reveals his true age."

"How do we seem to you? Do you find us beautiful and magical?”

"The strength of the vampire is that people will not believe in him."

"Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!"

"The blood is the life!"

"Loving the monsters always ends badly for the humans. It's a rule."

“When people see good, they expect good. I don't want to have to live up to anyone's expectations.”

“Love is a vampire’s greatest weakness. And we are not weak.”

“You know that old saying. Once you go dead, no one's better in bed.”

“For a hundred years I offered ugly death to everyone I met, and I did it with a song in my heart.”

"I'm not human. And I miss it. I miss it more than anything in the world. That is my secret."

“I'm in love with a woman I can never have. The point is I'm in love with her and it's driving me crazy. I'm not in control.”

"Your life is pathetic. Your after-life doesn't have to be."

"Life sucks either way, Jeremy. At least if you're a vampire, you don't have to feel bad about it if you don't want to."

"You want a love that consumes you. You want passion and adventure and even a little danger."

"Sometimes the world turns good people into bad people."

"People have been after me for a thousand years, but I'm always one step ahead."

"Mother made us vampires. She didn't make us monsters. We did that to ourselves."

"Perhaps one day, in a year or even in a century. You'll turn up at my door and let me show you what the world has to offer."

"Do you have any idea how rare love is? In a thousand years, I have found it but twice, and when I have, I have honored it."

"You're a vampire, sweetheart. I don't think you'll ever be okay again."

“When you feel the blood rush in, you tell yourself that you’re gonna get through it; that you’re strong enough.”

“You’d be surprised how easy it is to forget the past, Elena.”

“I wanna rip into your skin. And I wanna feed on your blood. Under your skin.”

“I just want one taste. That''s all I need. I just want one taste.”

“There’s the briefest of moments before we kill, where we literally hold their life in our hands and then rip it away, and we’re left with nothing.”

“Do you know the secret to immortality?”

“The vampire bond. There is no human equivalent.”

“He was my mentor, my murderer, my maker.”

“When was the last time you drank blood?”

“Left you with a bit of a craving, didn’t it? One day that craving is gonna grow.”

“That's cause you took my life! I got nothing. I lost everything. I lost my brother. I lost my family. About to lose the last fucking thing I care about.”

“And then I watched you pull over and drain a dog. And run down an alleyway for two more rats. This is not a life!”

“Hunting is an art. You have the power to subdue anyone you want, but sometimes restraint is your most powerful weapon.”

“What does this taste like to you?”

“There is one thing about being a vampire that I must fear above all else, and that is loneliness. You can't imagine the emptiness. The void.”

“Vampires are killers. Apex predators whose all-seeing eyes were meant to give them detachment. The ability to see a human life in its entirety.”

“Don’t underestimate the allure of the darkness. Even the purest hearts are drawn to it.”

“End of the day, human life is just a means to an end. Our means to our end.”

“A mutual law of nature is the strong always take from the weak.”

“It’s better to have a flawed life lived than wasted rotting away in clay.”

“Hatred, a pure and perfect hatred that’s greater now than the day I first took your life.”

“A thousand years of history isn’t going to write itself.”

“I can’t be killed.”

“I’m the monster lesser monsters fear.”

"I have crossed oceans of time to find you."

"You don't know what you are asking of me. To drink from you."

"You need blood, take it."

"To walk with me you must die to your breathing life, and be reborn to mine."

"I love you, Stefan. We will be together again. I promise."

"You loved me once, you will love me again."

"I made him. Did you know that?"

"I never compelled your love. It was real, and so was mine."

"What did you think was gonna happen? She would look at you, see your real face and give you a kiss?"

"I could swap this life of shame. Swap it out for a dark gift. You just have to ask me for it."

"Vampyrism is, by definition, an afterlife."

"I'm not the one who was sleeping with one vampire while half in love with another. Your morality is a moving target. Mine is not."

"A man damaged by his demons and those demons are not dormant, they are hell-bent on killing me and everything I find beautiful. And you, you are beautiful."

"You are stronger now. Meaner. Sexier."

"They are like vampire royalty. The oldest among us."

"He is the original hybrid. Half vampire, half werewolf."

"We both know I could snap your neck and do my nails at the same time."

 “Viktor. The oldest and strongest of us. That night, he made me a Vampire. "

"Stop fighting who you are."

"I'll tell you what I know about death, Camille. Death dances silently in everyone's shadow, and she doesn't give a damn."

"Turns out, I have complicated feelings for a monster."

ACTIONS AND SCENARIOS. Add a +reverse for the inverse action. Change names as you see fit.

[YOU ARE NOT HUMAN]: sender figured out receiver is a vampire and confronts them.

[FEEDING HOUR]: receiver finds sender feeding on someone's blood.

[WHEN IS A MONSTER NOT A MONSTER]: sender touches receiver's vampire face, showing they are not afraid.

[YOU NEED TO]: sender offers their blood to receiver.

[ECHOES OF THE PAST]: receiver is a doppelganger/looks like a person the sender knew in the past.

[DEATH AND THE MAIDEN]: receiver and sender can't be together as one is immortal and the other is a vampire.

[MY MAKER, MY LOVER]: sender is receiver's sire and they reunite after centuries after.

[BOND]: receiver is senders fledgling and sender can feel them.

[ELIXIR]: receiver is hurt and sender, a vampire, feeds them their blood.

[SHARING]: sender tempts receiver to share a meal of blood.

[HUNTING THE HUNTER]: sender is a vampire hunter, and they found receiver.

[THE INVITATION]: receiver receives an INVITATION to stay at sender's gothic/ancient manor.

[DRACULA'S BRIDE]: sender wants receiver to be one of their wives/lovers.

[BLOOD FAMILIAR]: sender is a vampire familiar, a human bloodbag under receiver protection. receiver finds out another vampire had bitten them.

[CRAVING]: sender tasted receiver once and craved them again.

[INVITED]: after bring invited inside, sender shows up at receiver's home.

[LICK]: sender licks receiver's blood remains from their mouth.

[LAST RESORT]: receiver has to turn sender into vampire because they are dying. sender wakes up in transition.

[ANCHOR]: sender calms receiver down after receiver went on a bloodlust spree. sender reminds them their humanity.

[RIVAL COVENS]: sender and receiver are from rival vampire covens and they talk in neutral ground.

[HUMANITY]: sender is human and because of them, receiver is starting to feel humanity again.

[I'LL BE YOUR GUIDE]: receiver is guiding sender through the early stages of vampirism.

[RIVAL SPECIES]: sender is a werewolf/witch and receiver is a vampire. they fall in love/ally with each other.

[DHAMPIR]: sender is a half human, half vampire who just had their first taste of human blood. receiver finds them.

[REFLECTION]: sender looks in the mirror and finds out that receiver has no reflection.

[fuxuannie]

hsr men and their love languages.

╭₊˚ ๑︰hsr men & their love language

:★: relationship : various hsr men x g-neutral reader

:★: warnings : none! fluff

:★: a/n : SO CUTE i love getting reqs like this!! lets me write super quick and simple stuff yipeeee >.< school starts soon .. uh ohhh

DAN HENG's love language is simple, quality time. Whether it's quietly reading books together, leaning on his shoulder to rest or small little dates here and there.. he's just happy to be with you. It gives him a sense of comfort and when you're gone it's like he's longing to go home. You make him feel like he has a place in this galaxy, like he's home.

JING YUAN tends to be stressed here and there, with so much to handle as a General - who wouldn't start cracking under the pressure every now and then? So he really appreciates whenever you do small acts of service for him. Giving him a head massage, getting him tea and doing all the little things you know he needs. It warms his heart that you rememeber and take note of these things to take care of him.

It was surprising to you that BLADE enjoyed physical touch. Maybe he was so used to loneliness, being immortal isn't exactly easy, but you made it feel like he was human. He doesn't know how to put it into words, but you make him want to live just to be with you. Having you in his arms gives him a purpose he didn't know he could have.

Words of affirmation was definitely GEPARD's strong suit if anyone had to guess. On days where you feel sad or insecure, Gepard has always been there to tell you all the things you need to hear. Whatever you've been feeling for the past couple of days, a small talk with him won't fix it - but it would at the very least help. You know he's an honest man, a very kind one at heart. He'd never tell you what wasn't true, and everything he affirms about you is nothing less but how he truly sees you.

CAELUS isn't saying he's rich, but the extravegant gifts you find at your door every single day without fail speaks alot of volumes, and that his love language is gift giving. It is not always the case that people love to buy gifts are shallow or only have their materialistic gifts to prove their love.. Caelus just loves to spoil you. He'll take you out on many dates, spend hours of time with you and show you that he cares but it's clear he loves to spend for you. Any little trinket that reminds you of him? He gets it for you immediately. You could definitely fill a whole shelf of things that he's bought for you.

[clericofgale]

Spoilers for Patch 5 and the whole game.

I posted my thoughts about the new ending Gale got in patch 5 on Reddit first, but I might as well post it here with some revisions. I'll say it, I love the god Gale ending. But it is NOT his good ending to me. Before I would never have pursued it, but now it is tantalizing to say the least. I'm into it though Gale the mortal is still my preference.

"Gale Dekarios cuts a poor figure next to the wizarding prowess of 'Gale of Waterdeep. You like so many things about me I'd have sooner discarded…"

By ascending Gale, you are killing Gale Dekarios. The nerd that hits on you in front of everyone while you're covered in zombie blood, procced to infodump an entire tangent to complement you, and yet somehow stick the landing to hit you with the most romantic poetry you've ever heard. A sensitive man who wears his emotions on his sleeve and wants to make the world a more beautiful place. An artist of the weave and a poet. The owner of the most overbearing tressym in the world. The moment the spell was complete, Gale Dekarios died and Gale the divine was born.

Even then, why is god Gale now so enticing to me unlike ascended Astarion? Because he loves you. He wants you by his side as an equal. It's actually sweet and romantic, just like all of Gale's romance is. I'm nothing if not a sucker for a romance.

"Follow my Lead" "Show me more. Show me it all." "I want you to seize the crown and make us a new world"

BeMyGod is the name in the data file for the boat scene where Gale asks you if you'll be with him when he seizes the crown. I know file names can be arbitrary, but if you agree to his proposal, you really are asking Gale to be your god. It's so easy to say yes. You're in the stars, Gale says I want to show you so much more, but it's not worth it without you. All you need to do is say yes. You're angry at Mystra who demanded so much of Gale, caused him such suffering and won't lift a finger to help. So You say yes. You love him. He loves you.

When Gale ascends, even in 6 months he is a different entity. The devs indicate: "His posture/demeanor here should feel slightly more aloof/detached than the regular Gale - he's been immortal for six months, his ego is as powerful as his magic. The real Gale's insecurities still lurk beneath his godlike confidence, as does his love for the player, but this is clearly a Gale setting out on a darker path."

The Gale here is a twisted version of the one we loved. His flaws are worse, he good traits have mostly disappeared. Namely his kindness and tolerance to deprecating humor. He no longer tolerates any perceived slight or jab. He doesn't let go of his bitterness towards Mystra. His ego is large yet fragile. You saw a glimpse of it at the ritual circle scene if you succeed in upstaging him in magic. Now it's only gotten worse. Yes even his insecurity. If you rejected him after accepting the proposal, Gale says this.

Tav: No, I think it's the end. What happened to the man I once loved? Gale: He's the god he deserves to be. I achieved everything we hoped I would, and still I'm not good enough for you?

He's also lonelier than ever. His last 6 months were in isolation, with nobody he could trust while dealing with the crown and celestial politics. Immortals don't really have friends. They have allies and lovers. He stops talking to his mother who was so dear to him. He develops a spell to polymorph people into Tara, his oldest friend who rejects him after ascension. He then develops a spell that summons Shadowdark ale and forces people to dance and be happy, just like the vignette he told you about the Yawning Portal. The third spell is Power word: Ruin. he's finally back to speaking death into being with a single word, just like he used to.

Gale wanted to be a god to make a better world, but now he's a neutral god answering prayers from any alignment. He doesn't care if they are Thayan wizards aiming for lichdom or unscrupulous Amnian merchants. Ambition is a neutral idea. Ambition also drives healers to develop a cure. For adventurers to slay monsters.

What's the most noticeable remaining good trait in Gale? Gale still loves you. He's much nicer to you if romanced. He refuses to be with you if you don't go with him because he doesn't want to hurt you. He admires your good heart if you want to honor the pact with Raphael. He calls you my love just like before. He will fulfill the promise sealed that night in the astral sea. All you have to do is say yes. And the ascension cinematic is a callback to the romance scenes from before.

"Follow my lead. Close your eyes. I have so much more to show you."

And you know what. I'll go with you. Even if we will eventually lose both our humanity in our folly, and dreams become nightmares. Even if I'll come to regret that night when I said yes to the mortal you, I don't want you to be lonely. Where ever you go, I'll go. You'll always have me. And I'll always have you.

As God Gale would say… "A toast then, to our myriad ambitions. May we each get what we deserve."

[bettyfrommars]

Death Becomes Us//Part 2: When Doves Cry vampire!Eddie x supernatural!fem!Reader//True Blood AU

⚠️18+Only pls⚠️ adult themes, blood, drinking blood, enemies to lovers, eventual smut, violence, reader and vampire!Eddie both get physically hurt--but they end up okay, talk of needles, alcohol consumption, talk of addiction, mention of sex, sanguivoriphobia, talk of the supernatural, death. Word Count: 6.7k

Series Masterlist

Summary: You start your first day at Main Vein, the vampire/human crossover bar owned by Bob Newby, flanked by vampire!bartender!Argyle and you learn what a risk humans can be to vampires as you begin to navigate their world. You and Eddie have to rescue each other as you're forced to share an intimate exchange that brings you irrevocably close. Playlist

Important words/phrases for this chapter: Fanger (derogatory term for vampires) Fang Banger (derogatory term for people who like to be bitten by vampires during sex) Sanguivoriphobia (fear of vampires)

✂️

If you are in the group of people who are familiar with True Blood, parts of this chapter will feel familiar. I won't be sticking to the storyline of the show religiously, but there are so many clever elements I wanted to incorporate. Please read the warnings above, as some of the things mentioned in this chapter might not be for everyone. ❤️

--------

Death Becomes Us Part 2: When Doves Cry

For years, you tried to cover your scars up with makeup, but then they ended up looking lumpy and odd, and it made people stare even harder trying to figure out what was under the heavy layers of foundation and powder. You’d never met anyone like you before, and it made you feel a type of deep loneliness that you never talked about because you knew no one would understand.

You’d left some tuna on your porch for Dio before you went to bed, and you were pleased to find the saucer licked clean when you left your trailer the next day. You could tell that she was well fed and that your nasty vampire neighbor was taking good care of her, but you wanted to reward her for proving to Eddie that she did, indeed, like someone other than him.

The white BMW was gone, and the old van was back, parked next to Eddie’s trailer. You were more curious and interested in whatever he was up to than you should be, considering you wanted nothing to do with him.

It was still daylight out when you rolled up early to Main Vein, and Bob got you to work writing out the specials on a sandwich board in your best handwriting, to hopefully attract customers in as they strolled by on the sidewalk. You shadowed Bob as he taught you the basics of tending bar while a couple humans (also known as “breeders” in the vampire world, because vampires, of course, could not procreate) came in for a few simple beers, and one guy ordered a jack and coke.

As a child, you were always an emphatic soul; you could tell what a person was feeling, even if they told you with their words that they were feeling something else. It was a trauma response to surviving in the emotional chaos you grew up in. Now, since the accident, you could read human emotions and intentions with ten times the intensity.

Vampires, on the other hand, were impervious to your gift—or, curse, as you often referred to it.

For instance, you could tell that Bob Newby had a heart of gold; his enthusiasm was not a fake front to hide dark intentions. He truly loved his vampire girlfriend, whom you had yet to meet, and he harbored nothing but the best intentions in the brainstorming of his human/vampire crossover bar Main Vein. He believed that vampires were good people who just happened to be dead, and that we were all equals, despite the fact that they were stronger, faster, immortal, and subsided on blood alone.

You were behind the bar, concentrating on putting the exact amount of alcohol in a drink that the recipe card in front of you called for, when Argyle slid in next to you and bumped your arm. His skin felt like ice.

“Careful!” He snickered. “Don’t spill any,” but half of the liquid had already dripped down your fingers. Since you couldn’t get a read on vampire’s emotions, it was a relief for you to be around them. Feeling other people’s emotions often meant that you had to experience them, and that was not to your benefit in many cases. Being around crowds of people sapped your energy in a way you still struggled to recover from.

Argyle wore his black hair straight and parted down the middle; it was shiny and soft and you wanted to touch it. He had on a colorful, button down shirt, and a blue visor that said Main Vein on it. He nodded at what you were working on, wiggling his eyebrows. “Whadda we got going on here?”

You sighed and told him what the customer ordered. Argyle smiled and waved you off. “I got this, foxy dudette. Let the master take over,” he cracked his knuckles and interlaced his fingers, flexing his palms out before he brought things from the under bar at lightning speed.

You were more than happy to shove off and get to the group at the front waiting to be seated.

When you were half way there with menus tucked under your arm, you realized that this group was mean and anxious and desperate; a combination that made alarms go off inside of you as your skin exploded in a wash of goosebumps.

They were nice enough to your face, though. It was a woman with two men, all dressed in denim and plaid; one of the men had an American flag on the front of his t-shirt. The other one had his greasy hair squished under a trucker cap, and two missing teeth in front. The redhead woman wore an Ed Hardy tube top under her flannel, and she was pretty in a whiskey and Marlboro reds kind of way. Her smile was big and gracious as she smacked her green gum, and they followed you to a booth.

They ordered a round of beers with potato skins from the appetizer menu, and just as you excused yourself to give their order to Bob in the kitchen, the woman grabbed your wrist.

You squeezed your eyes closed until you could calm the surge that went through your body when you felt threatened, waiting for the fire behind your eyes to settle before you met her gaze again.

“Sorry, darlin’ but this is a bar for vampires, too, right?” She was bent forward, whispering to you, her pupils tightly pinned in her dusty blue eyes. There was a faded, long stem rose tattoo on her white freckled forearm.

“Um, yes,” you looked around. “Will there be more with your party? Should I bring over a menu with our plasma options?”

The two men chuckled across the table at each other as if you’d just made a joke.

“That’s okay, baby,” the woman said sweetly, releasing your arm. “But, are there any vampires in here right now? Me and the boys were just hoping to see one up close, is all.”

You thought about what they were asking you, and the fact that their emoting of desperation was getting stronger, and decided not to point Argyle out to them. They’d eventually figure that one out for themselves because he loved to show his teeth. “I’m not really sure,” you lied with a shrug. “I never can tell the difference.”

The woman frowned and turned back to the two men as they started to discuss something.

The other waitress, a human named Erica Sinclair, tucked her Main Vein t-shirt into her shorts as she joined you on the floor, rolling her eyes. Bob introduced the two of you in a rush as he flipped a burger, and Erica gave you a bored look, but her gaze did not linger on your your scars like most. “You’re new here, right? You’re smiling, so you must be. Nothing much to smile about around here.”

You told her you’d only been in town a few days as you grabbed a second round of beers for the table that had been asking about vampires. You weren’t paying too much attention when the front door opened, but then some of the other customers seemed to still, conversations coming to a halt, and Erica’s attention shifted over your shoulder, eyes narrowing.

The song When Doves Cry by Prince was playing on the stereo system as you turned on your heel to witness your neighbor Eddie step across the threshold with ease; one initial invitation was all that was needed, apparantly. According to Bob, invitations could also be reversed if necessary. It was the couple waiting behind Eddie for their invitation that alerted everyone to the presence of something supernatural.

The two behind him could’ve easily passed as “regular” mortals. They had a very mom and pop look about them; she was a brunette in a floral dress and he was in trousers, a dark blue button down, and had a receding hairline. She clutched her white handbag at her stomach, and the man with her had his hand at her back, coaxing her in.

Eddie pretended not to see you there as he cupped a hand to light his cigarette and made his way over to the bar to take his normal seat at the end to order a Fang Tang, not even giving a second glance to the vampires stuck outside. Maybe they weren’t his friends? Not all vampires were friends, surely, as you were not close with all humans.

Bob would’ve been the first to greet them and welcome them in, but he was knee deep in the kitchen, wearing his “Bob the Brain” custom embroidered apron, and when you turned to Erica, she shook her head. “I’m not a fan of the Fangers myself. It’s going to take me a minute to get used to this new world.”

Your eyes snapped to Argyle, but he was busy at the other end of the bar doing a Tom Cruise juggling act with the booze to impress two of the local Fang Bangers.

So you straitened your shirt, squared your shoulders, and made your way over to greet them.

Meanwhile, the redhead woman with the rose tattoo on her arm and the two men with her were hyper focused on the new arrivals; you could feel the cold, wet tug of some kind of rot in their veins, surging though them and clouding their rational thoughts.

At the time, you did not know that there was an underground market for vampire blood, not only for its healing properties, but the euphoric high and transcendent experience it gifted the user. It enhanced sexual performance and gave humans the mental prowess of superhuman strength. Needless to say, it was a highly prized commodity; expensive and addictive.

Hunched at the bar in his leather and battle vest, and a handkerchief hanging from his back pocket, Eddie appeared to be ignoring you as you walked to greet the newcomers. You had never professionally invited a vampire in before, so you might have overcompensated with how cheerful your tone was. “Welcome to Main Vein,” you plastered a smile across your face. “Please enter and follow me. I will show you to your seat,” you also added a slight bow and extension of your arm like you were back in theater class again.

They stepped inside with a swoosh—a sound like they were breaking some invisible barrier you couldn’t see. They asked for a booth, and the only one out of the five that was available happened behind the party that was eager to see vampires up close: now they would get their chance. This vampire couple was not at all what you envisioned when people talked of “bloodsuckers from hell”. They seemed grateful to be able to come out to a bar with regular people---perhaps it reminded them of the human lives they’d once lived.

The guy in the trucker hat with two missing teeth turned around in his seat to get a better look as they sat and you offered them the plasma menus. You explained the different categories for synthetic blood, and how each offered the same taste and nutrients as real human blood. They offered replicas of a whole range of blood types, for those vampires with discerning palettes. You frowned at the guy in the trucker hat to make him turn back around and take his seat.

On your way back to the kitchen, Erica caught you by the elbow, her eyes wide. “What did they say to you?”

“They just wanted menus,” you said with a shrug, glancing over your shoulder at the couple in question. “I don’t think they’re all as bad as they seem on the news.”

“Oh, believe me,” She gave you a dire look. “They are evil. Don’t let the Laura Ashley dress and the Newport loafers fool you.” Truly, Erica had not yet properly met more than a handful of vampires in her life, she’d only heard the rumors.

“Have you ever met one?” You asked, assuming that she’d known plenty.

“I’ve met enough of them,” she promised, hands on her hips, and then she gestured to your neighbor at the end of the bar. “I know Eddie. But that’s only because I met him...before the change. And I’m forced to be around Argyle because I work here.”

When Erica walked off, you made the mistake of glancing over at the Eddie in question, and he tried to lower his eyes to his synthetic blood beverage as if he hadn't been watching you.

Argyle was working a metal cocktail shaker over his shoulder when you came back to the bar, and he nudged his chin at you. “What’s up with the freaks?” He asked, referring to the redhead with the rose tattoo and the two beefy men with her. He filled two martini glasses with a dark red concoction and trimmed each with a tiny pink flower.

You leaned forward a bit so you wouldn’t have to yell, tilting your head. “They specifically asked if there were any vampires here tonight,” you glanced over at Eddie again, but he was engrossed in something he was doodling on a napkin. “Do you think they’re tourists?”

“Nah,” Argyle wiped his hands on the rag at his waist, eyeing the table in question. “That’s Angie Klemp and her inbred brothers. They’ve been around forever.”

You could tell by his expression that he was weary of them, and you knew that he had excellent hearing which probably allowed him to listen in on some of what they were saying as they huddled together at their booth.

Wanting to change the subject, Argyle winked at you. “You’re doing a rad job, surfer girl. These are for the vampire couple that just sat down,” he pushed the two martini glasses toward you. “It’s our signature synthetic blood cocktail. Tell them it’s on the house.”

As the night picked up a bit, you took an order to the wrong table and fumbled a glass that shattered behind the bar. While you were cleaning that up, and mumbling apologies to Argyle, a woman wearing glasses and her honey-streaked brown hair in a bob took a seat at the small table by the window. Erica had a tray of drinks in her hand, so you dumped a dustpan full of glass in the trash and went over to wait on the new guest.

“Do I know you?” You asked as you took your pad and pen out to take her order.

She clamped her top teeth over her bottom lip, tucking hair behind her ear, shyly. “I own the bookstore down the street,” she answered. “You were in earlier, but I never got a chance to introduce myself.”

Of course, it came to you almost as quickly as she said it. You’d been so early for work that you took a walk around the block and ended up wandering into the quaint bookshop on the corner with the wind chimes made from seashells in the window. You had mentioned to her as you purchased a used paperback that you were starting work that day.

“The bookstore with the cats,” you grinned, pointing your pen at her. There had, indeed, been two resident cats in the shop, lazily draped over their carpeted perches in the sun, and sleepy, cream colored bigger dog behind the front counter.

“That’s the one,” she nodded, and then she stuck her hand out to introduce herself. “I’m Robin, in case you ever come back in, you can ask for me,” that seemed to fluster her and she shook her head. “You don’t have to ask for me, I’m usually there, but if you ever come by again, that would be nice.” Her cheeks got pink as she fumbled for the glass of ice water in front of her and took a sip.

You met her eyes and told her that you be back in soon to finish the series you were reading, and then she ordered a glass of wine with her salad. You could tell her heart was racing. She was nervous and excited to see you, as if maybe she’d had to give herself a pep talk before she came in. You noticed there was a certain warmth about her that wasn’t present in other humans. Whereas vampires were abnormally cold; Robin was pumping off heat like she had a temperature, and you were instantly fascinated by her.

----------

A bit later in the evening, Eddie said his goodbyes to Argyle, and you took casual note of his departure out of the corner of your eye while you bussed a table.

What you also noticed was the way Angie Klemp and her brothers paid quickly, and got up to follow Eddie out only a minute behind him. They’d had 6 beers and just as many tequila shots between them, and you got the feeling that they were up to no good. The two men were tapping their knees under the table, and scratching their necks and hands as if being actively attacked by ants.

The pulses of emotional electricity coming off of them instantly made your pores on your scalp blossom with sweat at how panicked they were; how hell bent. But again, what would they want with Eddie? To take their picture with him? That was a common tourist occurrence in Hawkins. But, the tourists in question usually preferred the subject to look like a stereotypical vampire; maybe wearing a cape, or dressed like Elvira. As far as you could tell, vampires usually kept with the same style they had when they were turned.

Eddie did naturally have that “vampire” look, though. He was a loner, he wore all black, he had spooky tattoos, and that long dark hair framing his pale face.

You were refilling someone’s water when you overheard Erica tell a guy at the bar to stop staring at her ass before she stabbed his eyes out with her pen, and it made you chuckle, mostly because you knew she wasn’t bluffing.

Ten minutes or so later, you were grabbing napkins from the storeroom in the back hall when you heard high pitched voices, screaming at each other from the alleyway parking lot. You hesitated with your hand on the shelf, wondering if it was just two people arguing and probably none of your business, but then you heard another scream, and decided to crack the door and peek out.

You had to scan the area at first, but then your eyes widened as they took in what was happening: against the brick wall of the next building, in a parking space between two cars, your neighbor Eddie was on the ground, his neck and wrists wrapped in silver chain, pinning him to the ground. You gasped and swallowed as you saw the steam rise up from where the silver was burning his flesh, his mouth set in a grimace.

Angie Klemp made fast work of jabbing a needle into the crease of each of his elbows draining his blood through tubing into clear bags. The brother in the American flag shirt paced at Eddie’s feet, barely able to contain his need for the drug, and the other one with two missing teeth kicked Eddie in the leg and then spat on him. “Yeah? Whadda ya think about that? Not so tough now, are you, Fanger?”

You stepped inside only to grab the fire extinguisher off the wall before heading back out, careful not to make any noise as the door shut. You tip toed around so that you were hidden behind the van next to them.

Angie seemed to be doing all the work, jerking the port out to fill another bag on the filthy pavement. “Goddamn it, I knew we should’ve taken him home first. This is risky as hell.”

“There’s no time for that!” The brother with two missing teeth took his hat off and scratched his head viciously. “I need some of the blood now, can’t I just have a little bit?”

Angie threw him a disgusted look. “You’re a fuckin’ addict, Clyde. How are we supposed to make money on this shit if you drink up all the profits? Get your shit together!”

You peeked your head out from behind the van, and Eddie saw you. His eyes were black and his fangs were out, but the silver had him rendered completely incapacitated. You could only imagine that the amount of blood they were taking was also making him weak.

You lifted up the fire extinguisher to let him know you were coming to his rescue, but he shook his head, trying to warn you off.

The two beefy men were too caught up in the throws of withdrawals and had their backs to you as you came up behind them. With a mighty heave, you cracked one in the back of the head with the big metal canister, and then when the other one turned around, you sprayed him in the face with the foam that comes out of the nozzle, blinding him. He clapped his hand to his face, yowling, and tripped himself on his own feet, going down hard.

Angie slowly stood, realizing that both men were on the ground, dazed, and she gave you a nasty snarl. “Why, you stupid, cut face whore,” she bit out just before she lunged at you.

You were about to swing the canister at her face when, from out of nowhere, a huge, boxy, beige pit bull terrier lunged from the darkness, barking and growling at Angie, barring its teeth, forcing her to back up. You looked down, a bit shocked: you’d never seen that dog before in your life. Would it attack you next? Hesitant, you let the dog move between the two of you, protectively, as it curled its lip and growled.

You pointed the nozzle at the woman. “Try us, bitch.”

The pit bull started barking a loud alarm that would soon have people coming to see what the hell was going on. Angie clenched her hands in the air as if she wanted to wring your neck, and then she was shouting for the two stumbling men to get in the truck.

“Go, go, go, you dickheads,” Angie demanded, grabbing the one covered in white goo by the collar, dragging him along.

The one with the crack to his skull was bleeding down the side of his head. “But what about the blood? Let’s take the blood!”

You and your new, aggressive pit bull friend stepped in front of Eddie, your weapon ready. “Don’t even think about it, fucker.”

You waited for them to pile in the truck and speed away before you dropped the fire extinguisher to the ground with a thunk and got on your knees next to Eddie, bits of gravel cutting into your shin.

The pit bull licked your cheek and stood guard next to you, looking from you to Eddie as if it understood everything that was going on, head tilting every so often. You were too concerned with how the silver was sizzling on his skin like bacon on a frying pan to wonder about your new companion. There were still needles in his arms and you slipped them out, cringing as you did so. You watched in awe as the hole marks in his arms disappeared and healed right before your very eyes.

“Can you move?” You asked him.

Eddie could barely talk, the pain of the silver was so excruciating. That, and he was extremely low functioning after so much blood loss. If those three had wanted to end him, they very well could have. He wondered how many vampires they had trapped and drained over the past few years.

He managed a scratchy, whispered, “no. It’s...the silver…”

With a gulp, you went to work unwrapping the chain from his neck and then his wrists, peeling layers of skin with it. He was an immortal vampire, but you could only imagine how much it must hurt, and yet, he hadn’t even made whimper.

His eyes never left you as you worked on him so diligently, your brows knitted together with focused determination. His neck was kinked forward, as his head and shoulders were propped up against the brick wall.

Unwrapping the last coil from around his wrist, you noticed that the wounds were staying the same, and you met his eyes. “Why aren’t you healing?”

“I’m too weak right now,” his eyes flicked away from you. “I won’t be able to heal until I feed.”

At that, the pit bull whined, and took its cue to turn and disappear back into the night.

You looked over your shoulder at the door to Main Vein. “Would synthetic blood work?”

He closed his eyes and shook his head once, rolling it against the wall. “Has to be...human,” he breathed, bangs sticking to his clammy forehead.

His once rosy lips were pale and the mangled wounds left from the silver made you feel bad for him, even though you weren’t even sure if you liked him.

“What if I just left you here?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “Would you die?”

The corners of his mouth stuck together as he talked. “If I don’t feed soon, I won’t be able to protect myself. More will come to take my blood, and if I’m still out here at daybreak then, yes, the sunlight will kill me.”

Your gaze moved from his ripped throat to his eyes again, hovering there. There was a thick leather cuff on your wrist that you used to cover up your scar, but you undid the buckle, exposing the underside of your forearm. You wondered if he was too weak to expose his fangs, so you used the back of one of your earrings to slice a thin opening across your skin, wincing in pain as you did so.

Eddie’s breath hitched in anticipation as you lifted the bleeding gash to his mouth. He couldn’t lift his arms, so you pressed it there, and his eyes locked on yours as you felt his tongue lick across the cut just before his eye went black and he began to suck, moaning, drinking you as a small trickle of blood dripped down to his chin.

At one point, he got some of his strength back, and his hand with the three silver, chunky rings came up to push your forearm against his eager mouth as he fed, and your heart raced at the sight of it. The passion of his need made your pussy clench around nothing as you knelt there in the grimy parking lot.

When his swallowing finally slowed, you tugged your arm away and clutched it to the underside of your apron. Eddie licked his blood-stained lips and met your eyes again. “Seriously,” he was strong enough now to brace his hands and push himself up so that his back was no longer on the ground. He leaned close as if he could read the answers in your eyes. “What are you?”

Your face was inches from his. “Do I taste different?”

“Yes,” he returned, without hesitation. The mauled skin around his neck and wrists were completely healed. “I’ve never tasted anyone like you before.”

You got to your feet, clipping your leather cuff back on, realizing you’d need to find a first aid kit before you went back to work.

“I owe you big time,” Eddie looked you up and down as he sat for a bit to catch his breath. “If you ever need---”

The back door to Main Vein opened and Erica was standing there with her arms crossed, shouting across the parking lot at you. “What the hell is going on out here? Am I working the floor by myself tonight or what?”

You walked to the back end of the van to tell her you’d be right in, and when you turned back to say something to Vampire Eddie---he was gone.

-------

“What the hell were you thinking?” Erica blanched as she helped you wrap up your arm at the desk in Bob’s office. “You know these Fangers eat people, right?”

She was still yelling, but you were trying not to take it personal. “Well, he didn’t eat me, so I guess there are exceptions.”

“What the hell do you call him drinking your blood, then?” Erica had a very soft touch while bandaging you up, careful to make sure she cleaned the wound and inspected you to make sure you didn’t have a bite mark.

“You girls okay?” Bob came around the corner, flushed, his face red and glistening in sweat from a long night behind the grill.

Erica jerked her thumb over her shoulder at you. “This one decided to play vigilantly in the parking lot to save one of your vampire buddies.”

Bob beamed. “Aw, you made a vampire friend? They’re awesome aren’t they?”

This time, you and Erica exchanged a confused look.

---------

At the end of your shift, Bob and Argyle stayed to finish up with two vampire customers at the bar who were lingering. With a heavy sigh, you took your blue, blood-stained apron off, grabbed things from your wood cubby in the back, and then walked with Erica down to the end of the sidewalk. The two of you had to split up and go in separate directions because your hearse was parked at the curb, and Erica only lived a few blocks away. You offered her a ride home, but she declined. You could feel that she had some personal issues weighing on her heart, and besides that, she had a deep well of emotions inside for the people she cared about, and it took her a while to trust people and open up. If you didn’t have your curse, you’ve might’ve just assumed she hated you.

It was late, but because of growing vampire population in civilized areas, there were several lights in windows, and the low hum of conversations drifting down from higher up apartments. There were streetlamps on each corner, but the dark side of the building cast a heavy shadow on you as you fumbled for your keys.

You were just about to unlock the door when you heard the shuffling of footsteps, and then before you could turn, the hard edge of a rope edge dug into your neck, gagging you, and then you were yanked back, off your feet. You tried to scream, but it only came out as a gargle. Your ass caught most of the fall to the pavement, but then your head clapped back onto the hard surface and it caused a ringing sound in your skull. The person holding the rope around your neck pulled it tighter, and you struggled, kicking your feet, trying to get free.

Angie Klemp and her brother in the American flag t-shirt were standing above you, sneering. She kicked you in the ribs and you wailed at the pain. She squatted down to mock you. “Oh, darn, I guess that fanger boyfriend of yours isn’t around to return the favor now, is he?”

They were dragging you now, pulling you by the neck around into the alleyway where no one could see what they were about to do to you.

Your vision was getting blurry as you heard the woman's voice again. “You cost me five thousand dollars worth of fanger blood, and we’re gonna take it out of your ass.”

The rope burned as it slipped off your neck and you were somehow able to roll on your side and stand, just as one of the men punched you across the face and you went down again, coughing, tasting blood. You were on your hands and knees, trying to catch your breath, and one of them kicked the steel toe of their boot into your stomach, making you double over in pain as they laughed, tears squeezing from your eyes as you tasted bile.

You wondered if you were going to die there.

In a blink, with spots in your eyes, you tried to focus as you swore you saw the guy in the trucker hat get his neck broken right there where he stood. His head twisted all the way around, forced by seemingly invisible hands, and then he slumped to the ground, dead. Before the other two could figure out what was happening, you saw Eddie pick the guy with the American flag shirt up and throw him onto the hood of a car, his head crashing through the windshield with a bloody splat. Angie tried to run, but Eddie caught her by the back of her neck and picked her up off of her feet. With one hand, he threw her into the nearby dumpster and slammed the lid with a bang.

This had all been done in seconds; he moved at the speed of light.

You were on your side, choking on blood, feeling scared as your vision began to tunnel. But then, strong arms were lifting you up as Eddie scooped you against his chest, “I got you, I got you,” he murmured against your bloody head. “You’re gonna be okay.”

You might have blacked out for a bit because when you opened your eyes, you were on the grass in the park across the street, propped up against a tree. You mewed in pain as your head throbbed and you choked on a sticky pool of blood in the back of your throat.

Eddie took his jacket and denim off as he knelt in front of you, revealing the Metallica t-shirt he had on. You tried to hold your head up as he produced his fangs and sank them into his own arm, and then held the leaking bite marks out to you.

“You need to drink my blood, so you can heal,” he said. He didn’t want to scare you in that moment, but you had a serious gash in your skull, and he had no idea how bad that kick you took had affected your internal organs.

You tried to push away from him, your eyes wide. “I don’t want to be a vampire.”

“You won’t be,” he assured you. “Believe me, I don’t want this for you, either.”

There was a tenderness in him then that you were noticing for the first time. You’d been taken by surprise, but under normal circumstances, you would’ve been able to handle the Klemps on your own. You weren’t used to feeling helpless and in need of someone’s care. You could feel the blood dripping down your neck and your vision was starting to fade again.

“Just a little bit,” you breathed, sticky lips parted.

Eddie cupped your head in one hand as he brought his arm over, similar to how you had fed him earlier. The weeping holes from his fang marks were right in the middle of one of his tattoos and you closed your eyes as your mouth latched on, nursing on him like your life depended on it---which it did. It tasted ordinary, like sucking on a penny, but it felt like velvet on your tongue, warming your insides.

Consumed with a sudden lust for the juice in his veins, you sucked harder, whimpering, and you didn’t see it, but Eddie’s eyes went back as he growled in the back of his throat at the pleasure of the sensation. You drank until your brain stopped throbbing, and then you rested your head back against the tree, a smear of his blood across your chin.

You noticed Eddie was close to you, his mouth at your temple as he licked a bit of your blood from a scratch there as it was healing. You jerked to the side, surprised to catch him wanting to sample you again.

Your eyes locked. “What do I taste like?”

He searched your face, aroused by the sight of his blood on your mouth. “Like...memories. Like ice cream and summer breeze and suntan lotion melting on warm skin.”

Your lips were almost touching as he confessed this to you. There was no vocabulary for him to properly explain the many layered depth to your blood; it was sweet and savory, and it also tingled in the back of his throat like pop rocks or fireworks and made him feel alive again if only for a few moments.

You lifted your hand to your throat to find that the rope burn was gone, and your ribs didn’t feel like they were broken. You were just about to ask him another question, but then he was on his feet in a flash, putting his jacket on.

“Also,” he flipped his hair out of the collar of his leather. “Now that you have my blood in you, I’ll always know where you are,” it sounded more cryptic than he meant for it to, and so he added, “just in case you ever need my help again.”

You frowned. “But, how will you know if I need help?”

He busied himself rolling his cuffs up. “I’ll be able to sense your fear.”

You were letting that sink in when he spoke up again. “And don’t be surprised if you have some dreams about me.”

“Dreams?” You raised an eyebrow.

He turned his head and rested his tongue between his teeth as he figured out how to say it. “The sexual kind.”

“Oh,” you looked down, suddenly embarrassed. He stood there shuffling his foot on the grass and you had so many questions for him. How had he become a vampire? Was it something that he chose, or was it forced on him? How long had he been one? You were trying to choose which one to ask when he spoke.

“Hop up,” he said, gesturing for you to get on his back like you were a little girl. “I’ll take you back to your hearse.”

Normally, you hated when men tried to pick you up, but Vampire Eddie carried you across the street like you weighed no more than air. You had your arms around his shoulders and his hands were cupped under your thighs; the vanilla sandalwood of his hair blew across your face in soft tendrils. He lowered you to the ground once he got to the parking lot, and you both looked down the alleyway at the Klemp bodies that Eddie had dropped in his effort to rescue you.

You swallowed. “It’s illegal for vampires to kill humans,” you said in a hush. “I don’t want you to get in trouble for this. I’ll tell the police I was---”

“No police,” Eddie stopped you in a gruff voice. His jaw muscles flexed as he turned to you. “It’s also illegal for humans to drain a vampire for sport,” he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his inside pocket and bit one with his teeth to pull it out of the pack. It bounced there as he talked, squinting one eye at you. “I’ll take care of them, you don’t have to worry about it, princess.”

Since he’d just saved your life, you decided to let him get away with the pet name.

He lit his smoke and took a tight, hissing inhale before aiming the exhale over your head. “I’ll stay here to make sure you get on the road okay.”

You looked down at yourself. “Yeah, I suppose I should get home and take a shower,” you noticed that your bag was in the gutter next to your front tire and you bent to pick it up, along with your keys up. “Guess I’ll see you around the trailer park.”

Inside the hearse, you watched from your rear view mirror as vampire Eddie leaned his back against the wall to smoke and make sure no one bothered you. He picked something off his tongue as you started the engine, and then you lowered your head to shift into gear.

You were not surprised this time to find him gone when you looked up.

-----

"Dig if you will the picture of you and I engaged in a kiss The sweat of your body covers me Can you my darling? Can you picture this? Dream if you can, a courtyard An ocean of violets in bloom Animals strike curious poses They feel the heat The heat between me and you How could you just leave me standing alone in a world so cold?"

-- When Doves Cry//Prince

------

Part 3: The taste of you

——-

Thank you for reading!

[matrixbearer2024]

Suffering

Are you really even living? Or simply surviving doctor? When had immortality turned from a blessing into a curse? More importantly, did you really even care? Or did you only care because you're now all alone?

AKA; Ford internalizing now that he's alone and invulnerable to the sands of time. The same can't be totally said for his mental state though. After all, he's only human.

Songfic based on "Suffering" by Amelie Farren written for my Time Lord Twins AU!

I'm very delulu for my AU- so have a sneak peek into Doc's future with this song fic I wrote. I have three distinct moments for Stanford as the Doctor in my timelord twins AU:

the Doctor that neglects — when he was young and was only a Doctor thanks to his PhDs

the Doctor that regrets — present, where I normally create content for him and where his blog and RP are currently situated

the Doctor that forgets — the far flung future where he outlives everybody and completely embraces being a time lord

I'll be tagging these posts accordingly, but I'd love to talk about his lore much more if you guys are interested!

The sun had long dipped below the edge of the cosmos, surrendering to the sea of stars that now spilled across the boundless sky. Within the TARDIS, Stanford stood against the vast backdrop of that eternal night, the hum of the ship's machinery a constant, soothing drone beneath the cacophony of his thoughts. The silver pill case in his hand reflected the light of a nearby console, gleaming with a sterile brightness that made his skin crawl. He turned it over between his fingers, contemplating the small white tablets that represented his fragile tether to equilibrium.

  I've thrown aside my worries, but the cares they bite me back. I'm taking twenty vitamins a day, for the iron I lack.

  Stanford grimaced, the corners of his lips pulling downward as the familiar bitterness welled up in his throat. He tilted his head back and swallowed the pills dry, feeling them scrape down his throat as if rebelling against their purpose. Sustenance without substance, that was his life now. He no longer needed food to keep going, no longer needed the simple pleasures of living— he only indulged when he could remember to, when the aching loneliness hadn’t numbed his senses entirely.

  I don't need food I don't need sleep, don't tell me that I'm wrong! I don't know what I'm doing— But can you please just play along?

  The first decade had clawed at him with relentless, gnawing grief. Each year afterward seemed to find a new way to hollow him out, chiseling deeper into the marrow of his being until there was nothing left but the echo of old anguish. He would lie awake in the captain’s chair or pace the TARDIS halls, every footfall a metronome counting out regrets. Days would bleed into each other, a palette of shadows smearing over any sense of time. He’d stopped counting birthdays after the 200th, the last one he’d shared with Stanley.

  Why count when the numbers stretched toward an infinity he wanted nothing to do with?

  My head is made of flowers, and my body made of steel. Cause I can't think— Can't hear— can't feel!

  Stanford’s fingers flexed, muscles tightening and releasing as if testing the reality of their presence. The memories surged forward like a wave, unstoppable and suffocating— hands covered in grime and ash, eyes stinging from the smoke that rose like specters around him, the taste of iron sharp on his tongue. He had touched the stars, commanded them, until they burned him to cinders. His mind was an overgrown thicket now, vines of regret and bitterness weaving through every synapse, thorned reminders of a past he could neither escape nor amend.

  When he closed his eyes, he could see them— faces etched into the void, voices calling out in anguish as they fell. Each step, each choice, stained his path with crimson guilt. He felt like a monument to grief, immovable and ever-decaying.

  They say a picture's worth a thousand words, but I disagree. I can't imagine anything Cause I can't see!

  The doctor let out a breath that shuddered its way past his chest, eyes straying to the holographic stars projected across the TARDIS library. What he once chased with fervor and ambition had turned into an unyielding prison. The titles of “healer” and “teacher”, which once filled him with pride, now felt like weights dragging him deeper into the abyss. What good was saving worlds when he couldn’t save his own heart from splintering?

  I won't break the ice though what else Is there to do? Cause suffering in silence is better—

  He could scream, tear at the walls and curse the very fabric of the universe, but he didn’t. The tears had dried up centuries ago, leaving him a stoic effigy among the whirring consoles and glowing monitors. The charade was familiar— a smile that never reached his eyes, words measured and wrapped in carefully crafted ease. He was an actor in the greatest tragedy ever told, where the curtains never fell.

  Than suffering with you.

  The doctor’s gaze dropped to the leather-bound journal resting on the armrest of his chair, untouched for days. The pages within held maps of stars, sketches of constellations, and annotations written with a frantic hand, desperate to capture even a fragment of meaning. The room around him felt cavernous, echoing with memories of Dipper’s quick wit and Mabel’s bright laughter. He could almost hear them, almost see their shadows darting between bookshelves.

  But it was only him, just him, marooned in this endless stretch of time.

  So I jumped out with a parachute, but the ground caught me off guard. Karma for the rules I break, the ones I disregard.

  The temptation to go back, to step through rifts that bent reality and visit those moments, was irresistible. He’d done it before, left the TARDIS hidden among the trees and traced the familiar paths of Gravity Falls with trembling steps. His heart would clench as he watched past versions of himself and his twin squabble over nonsense, the cheery voices of his grand niece and nephew not long to join. Their voices carrying over the wind with the kind of ease that only came before everything shattered.

  I can feel the tension rising. What fate is worse than this? Stuck between the ones I love—

  He’d watch them, hidden in the shadows of his own memories, a ghost to a life he once lived. Cosmic rules be damned. He’d listen to the echoes of their laughter until it felt like it would break him, that painful, beautiful sound that underscored just how far he’d fallen. But even then, he would not dare approach, would not dare alter a single second.

  And the ones I miss.

  Stanford’s eyes shifted to the flickering flames of the library’s fireplace, its light casting restless, dancing shadows across the room. The orange glow did little to warm the chill embedded in his bones. How many Fords, across how many dimensions, would have craved this? A sanctuary lined with knowledge and power, the respect of entire galaxies balanced on a single whispered name— ‘Doctor.’ And yet, it was all as hollow as the space between the stars.

  My head is made of shrubbery, and my body made of stone. Cause I can't for the life of me— reap what I have sown!

  He tightened his hold on the armrest, the leather creaking under his grip. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. It never should have come to this— sailing across time, trapped in a machine that hummed with its own form of loneliness, while he wore a mask that no one ever questioned. It felt like being both the sculptor and the statue, shaping and trapped by the life he’d carved out.

  They say a picture's worth a thousand words, but I disagree. I can't imagine anything, 'cause I can't see!

  The weight of immortality, once so alluring, now coiled around him like iron shackles. What did it matter if entire legions paused at the utterance of his name? What did it matter if beings far beyond human comprehension flinched at the sight of him? It meant nothing without the echoes of laughter, without the warmth of shared stories and the unspoken understanding of his family’s presence beside him.

  I won't break the ice though what else Is there to do? 'Cause suffering in silence is better—

  He filled the silence with companions, short-lived stars that burned bright and fizzled out too quickly. They were there, and then they weren’t. Time was relentless, wearing them down to memories while he stood unchanged. Each one chipped away at him, left him a little more hollow. His only true constant was Stanley, and even he didn’t know the full story. Ford wouldn’t let him, couldn’t let him see that far into the dark.

  Than suffering with you.

  The TARDIS thrummed, a soft, sympathetic sound that vibrated through his bones as if it, too, mourned the lives they’d shared and lost. Ford exhaled, the heaviness in his chest pressing down like a stone. He could carry this, he would carry this— because if there was one thing he’d learned in all these centuries, it was that some battles are never meant to be shared. Some wars are fought in silence, against an enemy that wore your face in the mirror.

  And if the burden grew too heavy, well— he was the Doctor. He would bear it alone.

  He had to.

  I try to sink and never float.

  Some days, the weight was manageable, a familiar companion that settled over him like a well-worn cloak. But tonight, the burden felt insurmountable, pressing against his chest until each breath tasted sharp, like the metallic tang of blood from battles fought too long ago to matter and yet too vivid to forget.

  Stanford’s eyes turned to the viewport, where the stars blinked back at him with their indifferent light. Once, those points of light had been symbols of promise, of adventure and uncharted paths. Now they were cold eyes watching as he drifted— an eternal voyager, bound by his own choices and the mistakes that clung to him like barnacles on a shipwreck.

  Cause my head is underwater.

  The doctor’s fingers found the edge of his sleeve, gripping it tight as though it could anchor him. The silence roared in his ears, the kind that made old wounds ache with the sharpness of fresh cuts. Memories of splintered wood and that familiar bite of ozone filled his senses. The frantic fight, the blinding light, the hole that had torn through his chest— a wound that should have marked the end. He let out a shuddering breath, feeling phantom pain coil around him like a serpent.

  I’m here by choice by my own hand.

  The most damning part was knowing that every fracture, every scar, was carved by his own hand. He’d walked into the chaos willingly, driven by an insatiable need to prove something— to whom, he couldn’t even remember anymore. A need that had led him to make choices that, at best, haunted him and, at worst, had cost him everything.

  I’m a lamb sent into slaughter.

  He ran a hand through his hair, disheveling the silver strands that had once been a youthful umber. The weight in his chest grew heavier, spreading through his limbs. He remembered the moment he’d sealed his fate with a handshake and a grin, signing away pieces of himself to a demon who promised everything and gave nothing but ruin. Even now, the jeers of that one-eyed triangle haunted the corners of his vision, mocking him with every beat of his undying heart.

  I’m aware of my own body.

  Every nerve ending screamed in protest as memories flared to life. The repair box’s nanobots— an endless legion that buzzed beneath his skin— worked tirelessly, a ceaseless reminder that he wasn’t wholly his own anymore. Some days, he could almost feel them moving, an itch he could never scratch. His hands curled into fists, knuckles turning white as he resisted the impulse to claw at the sensation, to rip it out and make it stop.

  I can feel beneath my skin.

  But he didn’t. He never did. The discipline of centuries held him captive, a slave to his own stoic facade. He swallowed hard, letting the tension dissipate as much as it ever could, settling like sediment at the bottom of his soul. The fire’s light flickered over his features, casting deep shadows that made his face look carved from stone.

  I can wash away my insecurities.

  He stood abruptly, the sudden motion sending a wave of dizziness through him. The doctor steadied himself against the back of the chair, eyes closing as he drew in a breath. The act was as much a ritual as any he performed— a way to wash the fractures of his spirit, to convince himself that he was still whole. But deep down, he knew.

  But can’t wash away my sin!

  No amount of time, no act of heroism, could ever cleanse the burgundy that stained his hands. It was a truth that gnawed at him, a constant shadow that whispered during his moments of quiet. He turned toward the shelves, running a finger over the spine of a book he’d read a hundred times but never truly absorbed. Knowledge without purpose— just like him.

  They say a picture’s worth a thousand words, but I disagree! I can’t imagine anything—

  The holographic stars in the library blinked and swirled, shifting constellations that once spoke of wonder and exploration. Now, they were a cruel reminder of all the places he’d been, all the faces he’d left behind. He raised a fist, hesitated, then let it fall to his side. He couldn’t even find the anger to break the illusion.

  Cause I can’t see!

  His vision blurred, not with tears— those had dried up long ago— but with the weight of exhaustion that pressed down on him like a vice. Every accolade, every whispered praise, fell flat, their meaning washed away by the tides of time and repetition. The applause of civilizations felt no different than the hollow sound of silence.

  I won’t break the ice though what else Is there to do?

  The cold chill crept into his veins, a familiar companion that had shared his endless nights. Yet, he dared not crack the veneer he’d cultivated— that smile, that reassuring nod. It was a mask, as impenetrable as the TARDIS walls. To break it would mean shattering the delicate balance that kept him standing.

  Cause suffering in silence is better—

  Stanford’s fingers brushed against the journal again, the touch almost reverent, as if it held the answers he’d long given up searching for. The one story he couldn’t write was his own— each word caught in the tangle of what-ifs and could-have-beens that ensnared his mind.

  Than suffering with you!

  He swallowed back the ache, pushing it down to the depths where it simmered and seethed. To bear it alone was better; it was safer. The doctor would stand, resolute and silent, a guardian of time burdened by its cruelest truths.

  And as the night deepened, the stars outside continued their silent vigil, unmoved by the man who carried the weight of universes in his lonely fractured heart.

Tell me what you think about these two! I've got more drabbles in store for them aside from the content already on both their blogs @gftimelord & @gftimelordstwin! Also posted here on Ao3!

[yanderes-galore]

May I please request cult lamb were the lambs darling is another lamb?

Sure! I actually like this idea :)

Yandere! The Lamb with Lamb! Darling

Short Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Isolation, Fear of abandonment, Obsession, Mentions of having children but it's vague as you're both GN, Forced relationship, Clingy behavior, Overprotective behavior.

Lambs have been hunted by The Bishops to prevent the old prophecy of the chained one.

The Lamb thinks that they are the last one to the slaughter.

The Bishops themselves think that is true.

It turns out they were all wrong.

The Lamb can't believe their eyes when they see you.

Losing (almost) their entire kind really messed with their psyche.

Yet here you are, in front of them, a lamb with soft wool and innocent eyes compared to their haunting ones.

You're just as surprised to see another of your kind.

You've been hiding in the shadows in fear of being found and slaughtered.

Desperately, perhaps even naivély, you ask for their protection.

Surely with the Red Crown they will be able to make things right?

The Lamb eagerly accepts you into their flock.

You'll even notice them absentmindedly stroking your wool, yearning for a feeling of familiarity.

Honestly, The Lamb would feel more attached to a darling who's also a lamb like them.

After all, you both are the only ones of your species.

They'd want to catch your eye, somewhat hopeful of bringing lambs back into the land.

As a result their attempts at your attention are stronger than normal.

They're eager, often hovering around you.

The followers of The Lamb also praise you, being a lamb like their leader.

You are happy you found a surviving member of your kind...

Although you do wish they were less eager to court you.

The gifts, affection, and constant attention get overwhelming after awhile.

The Lamb does not understand your hesitance.

To them the best thing to do is keep you beside them.

Lambs must stay together in their herd.

Oh, TOWW finds this little discovery interesting.

It appears his vessel has found another of their kind.

What luck.

TOWW finds the desperation of The Lamb towards you amusing.

What would they do if you passed on... you lack immortality like them.

Perhaps they'd beg?

Maybe they'd ask the bishop of death for mercy?

TOWW promises if The Lamb is good for him, your life will be as long as theirs.

Honestly, being a lamb like The Lamb would probably be overwhelming.

The similarities are nice...

But The Lamb is so scared to be alone again that they cling to you.

They have so much power in their cult.

Who are you to turn to?

Your life is stuck in the camp.

Safe from predators, safe from death...

The Lamb feels since they have the power to control who lives and who dies with TOWW, they know what's best.

It's not like you'll fight them-

Lambs tend to be submissive creatures... The Lamb is simply different due to TOWW.

As they hold your face and stroke your wool... they bleat towards you.

A sound meant to be comforting...

The Lamb feels like family... perhaps even a future partner.

You just wish they gave you more of a choice instead of suffocating you in their desperation and loneliness like it's love.

[tokiro07]

Undead Unluck ch.220 thoughts

[Here For a Good Time AND a Long Time!]

(Contents: thematic analysis - happiness/autonomy)

All Up From Here

What'd I tell ya? You don't give things a numerical score, cus something better is always capable of coming along. Tozuka himself even incorporated my exact feelings into this chapter!

"I'm as happy as can be, Andy." "What are you talkin' about, Nico?! It's all up from here!!"

Acknowledging that you're happy is of course an important first step to actually being happy, but to say that you can't be happier is to say that you'll never be this happy again, like a preemptive refusal to accept greater happiness in the future

This is also why I don't personally like to throw around "peak" as a compliment, because again it implies that nothing compares now and never will again. It puts the recipient on a pedestal, and forces all further interactions to be analyzed exclusively in comparison rather than on their own

Take me for example: long-time readers of mine know that Medaka Box is my favorite manga of all time, but as UU has continued to grow and evolve artistically and narratively, I've been forced to reexamine my relationship with both series. By insisting that nothing would ever surpass Medaka Box in my heart, I've been actively holding my opinion of UU down, refusing to change the shape of the hole that Medaka Box left in my life to fit UU, afraid that doing so would cause me to forget Medaka Box

...Huh, that sounds familiar, doesn't it?

Andy telling Nico to look forward rather than becoming complacent with his current happiness or previous joys is actually a perfect capstone to their last meeting in the previous loop, as Nico's inability to allow Mico to make him happy in Ichico's place was ultimately what allowed Ragnarok to reach a critical point as quickly as it did. He certainly won't allow it to get to that point again, but rooting himself in the high of getting married rather than looking forward to the perpetuity of married life rings a bit of a bell, and one that Andy is quick to silence

This Too Shall Pass

Andy himself needs to take a future-focused stance like this, as if he doesn't, he would certainly go insane...again. In L100, he spent 200 years trying to kill himself because he saw no future in his immortality, just a constant waste of time with no purpose or goal. He would never find love, and any love he did find would be fleeting, as he would watch everyone he cared for slip away. He'd peaked when he had his gang in the Wild West, and everything since then was downhill

Until he met Fuuko

Once Fuuko was in Andy's life, suddenly every day was better than the last. Every day was fun, every day was worth living, and even when he couldn't see her anymore, when he was stuck eternally burning alive on the sun, he knew that there would be a day when the suffering would end. Because he had something to look forward to, the knowledge that things would get better, Andy was able to put up with literally the most painful hardship anyone has ever experienced without a word of complaint

All thanks to Fuuko

No Fate But What We Make

Fuuko, of course, went through the same thing, just on a much smaller scale. She went through ten years of believing that there was no future in a life where she couldn't touch anyone, and the only thing that kept her going was the serialization of a manga. Once it ended, so too did the roadmap of her life; if the only thing she could look forward to was the next chapter, there was no future without one

It was only when she met Andy that she began to see possibilities for herself, that that there was a reason to keep going. Because of Andy, Fuuko was able to look ahead and make a real plan for herself, to commit to multiple preparations and contingencies across 200 years of loneliness, to lay the foundation for her and everyone else's happiness

All thanks to Andy

But Fuuko interestingly takes the opposite approach here. While she builds her future, she seems to think of it as a culmination of the past. She says that the moment of their meeting wasn't the start of their story, but rather Andy's very creation was the start, that he and his life choices are what brought the present and future into possibility. Fuuko attributes all of her successes to him, a domino chain that simply swept her along

But just like Andy corrected Nico, so too does he correct Fuuko

"It started with you, Andy. If you were never born, then I -" "Ha! It was just dumb luck. You're the one that turned that luck into fate."

In this moment, Fuuko has an external locus of control, believing herself to have been dealt a bad hand and that she just got lucky when she swapped out her cards, but that's not what Andy sees. He sees a woman who made the right calls with what she had, who swapped out the right cards and made the right bluffs to turn a bad hand around and win big anyway, and he doesn't want her to lose sight of that

Just like he doesn't want Nico to think his life is going downhill, he doesn't want Fuuko to think her life isn't in her control. If life isn't in your control, then neither is your happiness; anything you have can be taken away, and you forfeit the ability to take it back. Again, Andy can attest to that: he only found Fuuko by sheer dumb luck

No one orchestrated their meeting, it just happened, and it was only because Fuuko made the choice to embrace the consequences of that meeting that their lives turned out for the best. If Fuuko hadn't pushed herself to kiss Andy and save both of them from being captured by the Union, she likely would have been killed and he probably would have somehow found his way back to being Victor, this persona fading into nothing while still remaining unnamed

When hardships inevitably come Fuuko's way again, she needs to understand that she can't rely on luck to save her, but she can rely on herself. She's proven it a thousand times, and even become someone that everyone else can rely on; with her own hands, she defied everyone's destinies and forged a happy ending for all of them. That's not something that could have just happened by the whims of fate, only by the choices of someone with the strength to take control of their own life. After 100 loops with only subtle variations thanks to the minimal interference of the only one who could, the 101st has the chance to create the perfect ending specifically because Fuuko chose to interfere when given the opportunity

And now she has the opportunity to interfere one last time

Let's Enjoy Life

We've talked about it endlessly at this point, but Ruin is a clear foil to Andy in a ton of ways, and this chapter is a perfect illustration of that concept, literally. Not only is this fight happening on the bridge where Andy and Fuuko first met, the flow of the battle itself is like a speedrun of the first 20 chapters

The meteors and lightning from last chapter, getting hit by a vehicle and reduced to a head (the train in ch.1 or the truck in ch.2), having his body sealed by specially made Union containers (eye-scar guy in ch.1), getting pummeled by Void on the highway (ch.2), facing Shen immediately after (ch.3), then jumping straight to being launched into space by Nyoi Kinko (ch.16). Even the way he talks, insisting "this isn't enough to kill me" is pretty much exactly what Andy and Victor would say whenever anyone would hit them with anything - because he thinks they're trying to kill him

But that's not the goal. It never was

Tozuka played a fun little trick on us from the very beginning of the series. By calling UU "the story of [the] quest for the greatest death ever," the expectation that was set up was that we would see the most extravagant, bombastic and show-stopping death ever put to page, that the goal was to find the one thing that could actually overcome immortality. He made a promise that the story would end with Andy's demise and all the spectacle that came with it

With this chapter, it is clear that this was a promise that Tozuka had no intention of keeping

Not in the sense that Andy won't die, I have a hard time seeing this series ending without that punctuation to his story, but the death itself is no longer the purpose of the journey, and I would argue never really has been. The "greatest death ever" is one that comes at the end of a fulfilling life, one where the deceased is surrounded by people who love them and, even through the tears and grief, everyone can look back and smile. This was the lesson that Fuuko learned in ch.1 as she fell to what she thought was her death; the suicide that was meant to end her suffering simply put into perspective how empty her life had been, and being saved, being held, being shown affection by Andy showed her what her life could be

Ch.1 was a perfect preview of the rest of the series, because as I've said many times over by now, Andy and Fuuko's stories are near identical. Just as Fuuko learned that life needs to be lived for death to have meaning, so too would Andy. And now, two hundred and twenty chapters later, Tozuka has finally paid off that slow burn by having Andy acknowledge that he enjoys life!

And now he wants Ruin to do the same.

"I've got one rule and one rule only!! ... Now, c'mon, You follow it too!! Let's enjoy what life has to offer!!"

"You follow it too."

Andy doesn't want to kill Ruin. He wants Ruin to understand the truth. Ruin loves the world, and that's a start, but he wants to eliminate the thing that makes the world truly beautiful - the people in it. Andy's "ridiculously long life" was pointless because he was alone, and Ruin's life is set to be just as long. He insists that he only needs the Rules, but how long can that sustain his soul? At best, madness is all that awaits him, but as we said, a life that accepts it will never be happier is one that has accepted it will be unhappy

Ruin needs to be shown that his way of life will only lead to unhappiness, and that there's a better way. That loving people and being loved by people is better than hating them and isolating from them. Just like Andy drifted through life ambiently allowing things to happen to him, taking opportunities as they came along rather than actively working towards a goal, so too is Ruin losing control in this fight. He's getting smacked around like a rag doll by the culmination of the life that Andy lived, and the Rules he hid behind to distance himself from humanity can't do a damn thing to help him

When Andy thought there was nothing more he could do, that he had to sacrifice himself to the Union to keep Fuuko alive, she stepped up to save both of them, reaching out to someone else for the first time. That was the moment Andy's life started to change, the moment that Andy was truly born, and I believe that Ruin is about to learn exactly what that's like

Undeath and Rebirth

The official twitter gave us a fun bit of insight this week: in L100, the mark over Ruin's eye that I've been calling a scar this whole time was actually a birthmark. While the mark from Remember on Andy actually is a scar, it was present from the moment of Andy's creation, making it functionally identical to a birthmark

But now, in L101, both of these birthmarks are gone. Andy no longer has Remember, and Victor is no longer trying to return, so his wound has healed; meanwhile, Ruin's natural birthmark has been subsumed by a wound. Andy is no longer defined by his origin and now can look toward the future, while Ruin is likely hiding from his origin, covering it up and ignoring the implications of it

Andy was reborn and able to heal, but Ruin is more damaged than ever; more ruined than ever. With his birthmark gone, the pain of his past can be left in the past, but by marring himself so grievously, there will always be a reminder of it. It will only be once Ruin learns to look forward like Andy, like Fuuko, that he will be able to heal and be reborn as well. It is only then that he will cease to be ruined

Conclusion

Of course, this is all assuming that Tozuka actually cares enough about Ruin to keep him around and actively develop him. For all I know, this is going to be another Kururu situation where I'm filling holes that Tozuka only ever planned to leave empty, but as I've said a thousand times, Tozuka has built up more than enough good will for me to give him that benefit of the doubt. I wholeheartedly believe that Tozuka has a plan for Ruin (and hopefully for Kururu too), but in the end I'll still be okay with it either way so long as he uses them properly to develop and analyze Andy and Fuuko

At the end of the day, Ruin's character has given me another angle to approach our leads from, and that's what a good foil is supposed to do. Even if Ruin doesn't accept the lessons and is made to be an illustration of what happens when one refuses to live their life no matter what, that's just as good narratively, even if it's sad to think about. We'll just have to keep reading and enjoy what Tozuka has to offer, whatever that may be

...Ah, crumbs, do I need to change my sign-off???

The original translation was "let's enjoy life," but presumably for either accuracy or dramatic flair, David Evelyn went with "what life has to offer" this time. Now that it's been introduced in canon, that's the quote that's going to become iconic, and most people won't know about Tozuka's convention appearance or the chapter blurb that only appeared in the original magazine run! "Let's enjoy life" is inevitably going to be forgotten as the phrasing of the sentiment, so should I fight the tides and stick with the original, or accept reality and adapt accordingly...

...Well, when I put it that way, after everything I've said in this review, I think my choice is pretty clear. If anyone wants me to go back to the old way, let me know, but for now:

Until next time, let's enjoy what life has to offer!!

[yandere--stuck]

nosramus's relationship headcanons, maybe? 🫶 idk if you write for them, but if not, ok!!

but speaking sincerely with all my heart; i've been following your blog for a while, and i'll tell you-- i sincerely love your writing, like really - very really !! i giggle and do 10 spins in my room when you post about my favorite characters (or characters i don't even know, 🤭🤭) maybe that sounds not honest ((i don't even know)), but i really mean it.

AND

hope you have a good night/or day (or whatever time is) !!!!!!!!!!

Thank you so so much!!! That's so sweet of you to say and I'm so glad you enjoy my works aaaaa ;w; it means a lot!!

I hope you have a great day/night yourself and that these are good <3

---

🤍 Immortality is both a blessing and a curse, Nosramus has found. Though she finds enjoyment and purpose in her studies and in the mundanity of life, even within the dungeons of Fear and Hunger, this has also led her to a life of loneliness. Many days spent with only herself for company. Her guard is there, of course, but he's not really much for company. It's even manageable most days. But the longer the future stretches out in front of her, the more the chasm in her heart where others had once touched deepens and darkens further.

💛 Such isolation gives her cause to look into different areas of study - such as The Soul. Everyone is born under a specific Soul type that will shape who they are and how their life will play out. Less understood, however, is that concept of a Soul Mate. The idea of one Soul bearer having one (or more) Souls that are naturally attracted or drawn toward one particular Soul type or even particular individual that bears a particular Soul type that seems to inherently click with another's. Once, she had thought she found them. But, she was wrong. She was betrayed and forgotten. In the end, they were the worse for it and Nosramus, in the grand scheme of things, was far better off. Still, she was left scarred by deception. To be alone was better than being hurt again in such a way. It was better for a long, long time. But now, the darkness and isolation of the catacombs have become almost too much to bear. She can feel her Soul call out for the touch of another.

🤍 Brave adventurer, what is it you seek? Her, perhaps unknowingly…? Why else could Nosramus feel you within the halls? Your footfalls echoing through her head, the brightness of your spirit felt pulsing in her own Soul. A feel of giddiness makes her entire body shake. She can't concentrate on her studies. She can't even hold a cup of tea steady without shaking. She sees flashes of you in her enlightened mind's eye. So desperate is Nosramus to see you in the flesh. Is this what it feels like to meet your one and only? A part of Sylvian's design perhaps. The anticipation and impending doom of meeting who you are meant to be one with. Nosramus can't help to distract herself much longer, nearly running from her laboratory as she feels you enter the mines.

💛 Don't be afraid. She can see you from the shadows. She will wait as long as you need to step into the light and see her. Nosramus tries to keep her smile from widening too greatly. She introduces herself. Tries to ignore the burning sensation in her very being. Extends a hand out to you and tells you the kettles on. Care for a cup of tea? She smiles even as you hesitate. Of course you're hesitant, poor thing. All alone in such a place without her. How did you ever survive? When your hand slips into hers, Nosramus is nearly set ablaze from the inside-out. Oh, yes, she thinks she'll keep you.

🤍 As a show of good faith, Nosramus offers you to partake in her potions and peruse her tomes. Not like you'll be leaving with them. The home she's made feels so much more alive with you inside it. Like you were always meant to be here. Your voice is music to her ears. She implores you - why are you here, where are you from, who have you left behind, what do you love, what do you despise, what are your dreams and wishes. She sprawls down notes when she gets a moment between preparing your tea. Just the beginning of her study of you. When she sets your cup in front of you, she makes a show of giving her own a hearty sip. And by the time you've realized what's happened, you can barely keep your head up. Poor dear. 

💛 You must understand. Or, you will understand, eventually. Nosramus has been burned before. She wants to trust you, but can't quite yet. But, it's okay, pet. She will take care of you while you learn how much your meant to be. She can hardly be near you without touching you - holding your hand, stroking the top of your head, pressing soft kisses across your face. When she must rip herself away from you, her guard will watch over you. One day, you'll be free to be lucid when kept in her quarters, but not yet. She must show you that your Souls are meant to be one. She cannot wait for the day that Sylvian blesses your union and you finally do become One.

[arachnixe]

Permanent

The witch who planned so hard to achieve immortality did not plan for the end of the world.

Her magic—the magic of permanence—proved itself more durable in the end than the clockwork of life itself.

Small consolation, she felt, bound forever to her own buried bones.

It was something of a surprise when her millenia of silent rumination about her own life were interrupted by a shifting of dirt and rubble.

Her eyes had long since rotted away, but senses beyond sight alerted her to the impossible touch of sunlight on her remains.

Her mind stirred. She shifted from her reverie to contemplation of the outside world again. With great effort, she cast awareness outward to bring her surroundings into focus and perceive the cause of this unexpected shift in circumstance.

She felt no life. But not nothing.

A small figure stood over the dead witch’s body, scrutinizing her in silence. A painted face that should have been bleached to nothing from years of sun stared at her bones. Limbs which should have seized up and rotted were covered in dirt from its labors.

She knew this doll.

A distant memory surfaced, summoned by that unforgettable face. Years of toil on this one culminating in failure. Early experiments in imbuing a form with permanence which disappointingly ruined a perfectly good doll. It was discarded with the other unsalvageable mistakes.

It should not have been moving at all. It should not have known where to find her. It should not have survived the ages with its body intact in a way her own was not.

It was unmistakably standing before her, having dug through the ruined remains of her tomb to find her.

“You are still here, aren’t you?” the doll asked at last. “None of the others are. You’re just a skeleton, but I can tell you're inside.”

It approached, limbs creaking slightly until it could touch her ribcage for confirmation with a dirt-covered hand.

The witch no longer possessed a voice with which to speak, but the doll answered for her anyway.

“Yes! Thank you for saving me! You’re the best doll I ever had, and I’m sorry I forgot that when I left you behind!”

“Oh, you’re very welcome, Miss. Let’s get you out of here.”

It should have been humiliating to be spoken for in such a way, but there was such wonderful novelty in hearing someone else speak at all after so long.

Her spirit was still too weak to reach out and make her own true words known, which did not faze the doll in the slightest.

“Be careful with my skeleton, Dolly. I’m very old and fragile!”

“Yes, Miss. I’m being super extra careful, see?”

It scooped up the skeleton with feather-touch gentleness and—careful not to hit her skull on any rubble—picked its way out of the hole back to the surface.

“You’re my only friend left, Miss, and I don’t want to accidentally hurt you like I did the others,” the doll continued. “I think all that napping made me real strong like you and now I gotta be extra gentle so I don’t hurt anyone any more.”

“You’re doing so good, Dolly.”

Come to think of it, the witch didn’t think she’d ever given such praise to her dolls before. Correct behavior was to be expected of them, after all. What strange side effects had her experiments on this one had on it?

What strength did it think it had?

The doll continued to converse with itself, speaking on the witch’s behalf in a way the witch never would have on her own. It propped her bones up against some surface rubble in a mockery of a sitting position and continued chatting away with barely contained delight.

It was nice, actually. Even when the doll put words in her mouth that she never would have spoken.

“You’re so good at stories, Dolly!”

“Thank you, Miss! I’ve been practicing!”

“You’re so pretty, Dolly!”

“Thank you, Miss! You made me this way!”

The happiness she felt from “her” words pleasing the doll was completely unfamiliar. She had been so much lonelier than she had let herself believe, and she found herself content to be in the company of such a chatterbox and pleased that the comfort it offered was mutual.

The world on the surface was so empty. The landscape was barren. Even the night sky had somehow died and become featureless.

But the witch’s heart was warmed by Dolly’s endless imagination and friendly conversation. She had come to think of the doll as a genuine friend too.

When Dolly held her bones and slept, the witch wished she could hold her back.

The first time Dolly whispered, “I love you, Miss,” the witch’s thoughts responded in unison with her doll’s narration, “I love you too, Dolly.”

[lostinvasileios]

If nobody else will say it to you...

No, no. Your deities aren't trying to abandon you, sweetheart. They're still there. They still love you. They still care and watch over you. Going through feelings of loneliness is normal, it's an inescapable thing with deity work most of the time, as unfortunate as it is, bee.

But, it's temporary.

It'll go away, just you wait.

Your deities will be so happy to see you overcome what you're going through. Your deities didn't forget you. How could they? Love isn't a forgettable feeling. Immortal, or mortal.

It's okay to cry, it's alright to feel weak without your deities at times. It's okay to feel so vulnerable to those you care so much about - like deities. No matter what happens, your tears are valid, the fear of being left behind or less-favored is valid. It happens. A lot more than you think.

You aren't alone, sweet friend. You're too loved to be alone. Even if you cannot hear them, feel them, or anything else, that doesn't mean they've suddenly began to hate you. That they've suddenly deemed you unworthy of their attention.

Breathe. Relax your muscles.

Ups and downs are apart of a strong, fulfilling journey.

Figure out how you feel about this situation when you're ready, do what you feel is best when you're ready, feel what you feel for now. That's enough. That's okay.

Everything will make sense one day. Everything will get into place. Everything will calm down eventually. You'll be okay.

A bad situation, a lonely situation, a sad moment, is never forever. It is not your entire life.

Happiness, is not forever either. But, that's why it's important to savor your moments with it. To do what brings happiness to you. Believe what feels best in your soul and heart. Cry and bawl to your deities, if that helps.

You're wanted. You're needed. You're loved and cared for. So much.

[aleatory-eyes]

Tw:kidnapped,noncon,vampire blood.light bondage,clitslapping, oral,fingering,penetration(almost not described).

Trapped forever

Yandere Alucard x reader

This takes place before the "accident" with sumi and taka in season 3. I thought i would be a great timing. His loneliness making him more prone to fall for obsessive behavior.

Summary: you used to recollect herbs near Dracula's castle, one day you meet Alucard . And even though at first you were skeptical, you soon discovered his caring nature and the two become great friends (with a lot of hidden feelings) .

Everything goes to shit when you're accused for witchcraft and sent to your death. Your friend managed to save you, but this incident gives Adrian an extreme fear of abandonment.

Even if he has to turn you into a blood sucking monster, he is decided to keep you in his watch forever.

I DON'T CONDONE THIS BEHAVIOR. THIS IS FICTIONAL! PURE FICTION!

"LET ME GO, YOU'VE LOST YOUR MIND ADRIAN!" You cry out using his real name. The one he told you, making you feel special for knowing his litle secret.

He doesn't react, looking sadly at the floor. A "click" echoes in the luxurious room as he closes the door behind him and locks it. You have nowhere to run.

Using his inhuman speed, he jumps in your direction. Both of you land in the big bed, bouncing a litle bit in the mattress. Even if is pointless you struggle with all your might, screaming blody murdered at him.

The vampire was far stronger than you. He pinned down your arms with ease, and used the weight of his toned body to remain in top of you. You eyes meet his in the mist of the fight, he had a sad expression.

Alucard hated himself for what he was about to do you. But he wouldn't stop, keeping you safe (by his side) was way more important than his own moral values.

Using his belt, he tied your hands to the headrest. You look at him in shock, wait is he trying to...? "I'm sorry... is swear this is the only way" he says with a low tone confirming your fears. Your eyes water as he begins unbuttoning your blouse.

Taking off you clothes wasn't that hard, not the top part at least. You did struggle harder at your legs. Nevertheless now the only articles remaining is your underwear. He told you he wanted to take those in a loving way.

He started kissing your body, trying to find at least one of your sweet spots. Not stopping exploring with his hands all of your curves, fascinated by them. His fangs teasing your skin, leaving goosebumps behind. his erection throbbing at your scent.

Hi slowly kisses your lips, barely holding back the primal desire to make you his in that very moment. Becoming more passionate as he removes the remained undergarments all together. Only stoping to lick the sweat from your temple, just to realize they were your tears.

You're sobbing uncontrollably "I'm not trying to hurt you..." he says caressing your face to make you look at him. Only for you to whimper at the contact "sweetheart...please stop crying" hi cued. The daphir voice trembling a litle, guilt hitting like a ton of bricks.

Not knowing how to console you when he was the one doing this to you. He opted for something different. Pleasure.

Leaving a soft kiss to your salty cheeks he returns to his assault. His blond locks tingle your skin as he goes lower and lower. Until he position himself between your legs, hovering less than an inch of your heat.

The immortal gives you a slow lick, from the bottom to the top, pausing at your clit for second before sucking it obliviously. Mesmerized by your taste, unable to cease the stimulation he was giving you.

You resist, not wanting to cum by his antics.

Still a moan escaped your lips. With that the man loses his restrain, grabbing your hips with the intent of getting more, going deeper. His finger throbs at your entrance, entering with a roll of your hips. Not wasting a second comes in and when a third joins, you're barely holding it together.

"Let go babe ... you can't hold it forever" he utter between pants. Then he flicks a few times your sensitive nud before getting fed up with your resistance and slapping it. Overwhelmed by pleasure, you go limp as you orgasm.

Intoxicated by lust is easy to forget the situation you're trapped in.

You quickly come to your senses when you see a gorgeous naked body crawling to your side. You try to maintain the distance, but your retrained wrists keeps you in place. " Please Alucard, I don't want this" you begged. He gave you pitiful look prior to caging you under his built.

Your body trembled, you've never gone as far with man. You try to plead with him but everything you say is cut back with a forceful kiss. A strange taste caught your attention, it wasn't like anything you tasted before. Similar to an old wine? A litle metalic?

All of a sudden it started to burn, your whole figure was on fire. "What's.. happening?" You attempt to mutter but your voice won't come out. You are extremely thirsty, as if that fire dried you from the inside out. Anxiety taking control over you as you start to hyperventilate.

A hand rest in the side of your face, that way he can clean your tears. He adjust himself to what he is about to do and he slowly alings his member to you. You're pleading eyes making him doubt. "Y/n... you" he gulped "you have to relax. Please...I promise I'll be gentl-" a sob escaped from his lips. Soon after that, drops of salty water began fall into your skin. "I'm really sorry" he whisper to you at the same time he thrusted forward.

In your helpless state you could only wonder for what was he sorry. Only for forcing himself on you? Or condemning you to his eternal love?

---

If you liked don't forget to give me a heart/reblog 🥰

Do you want more? Check my masterlist.

[calisources]

AMC'S INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE SENTENCE STARTERS . a selection of quotes from the amc's adaptation of interview with the vampire. change pronouns/names accordingly as you see fit.

Do you know the secret to immortality?

I have loved you with all myself.

You irritate me. Your very presence irritates me.

A last dance before the feast.

(name), I would like you to meet the vampire Armand, the love of my life.

The vampire bond. There is no human equivalent. It's a bond that can never fully be severed.

Lover. Murderer. Maker. You took him back.

You took (name) back.

I was someone I don't want to be anymore. I've changed.

She's grown very protective of me. That's what this is. It's why it's hard.

She came back altered when she left us. There's a darkness in her that wasn't there before.

Write me a song, put your lover's voice on it. What the fuck is wrong with your head?

You don't need me. You think you do. But you don't. You're smarter now. You see trouble coming a mile away.

You're ugly when you act like that.

Better ugly than blind.

Once you put it out there, they decide what it is. It can get away from you.

You're not my (name). You can't be.

You kill like a, like a killer.

All vampires are born out of drama. We made her out of remorse. Out of selfishness.

Poor, dear. She wasn't held enough in between ritualistic murders.

Who am I supposed to love? You two have each other.

You are chronicling a suicide. Do not look down on Claudia. Look in the mirror.

He don't give good answers to questions. And he sits on the truth like it's his chair or something. I thought we weren't supposed to keep secrets.

Young, strong, and likely to fight back. You must be most ferocious.

Remember this. His face as it melts. This is why we never get close to mortals because sooner or later, they end up dead.

Do you ever think that we, that's to say, our kind, were put on Earth for a larger purpose?

I'm a vampire.

 I heard your hearts dancing!

From time to time, I like a little variety. There, I said it.

A fish that doesn't swim. A bird refusing flight. You're going to struggle. I have faith in the feline population of New Orleans.

Hunting is an art. You have the power to subdue anyone you want, but sometimes restraint is your most powerful weapon.

There is one thing about being a vampire that I must fear above all else, and that is loneliness.

You can't imagine the emptiness. The void. Stretching out for decades at a time. You take this feeling away from me, (name). We must stay together.

Don't expect every reader to swallow that one.

 I'm assuming you only met at night.

It's New Orleans. Days are for sleeping off the previous evening's damage.

 I've seen death over and over and over and over again. It's boring.

That'll make a great blurb.

Don't do that shit here! Not with my family.

I was being hunted. And I was completely unaware it was happening.

Yeah, well, mortality beats a heavy drum.

So, (name), how long have you been dead?

The rage you must feel as you choke on your sorrow.

Fifty years later, you talk like he was your soul mate, like you were locked in some fucked up gothic romance.