starkgaryan - Tumblr blog

starkgaryan · 5 months ago

Text

And Through It All

pairing: Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x F!Doctor!Reader summary: What starts with years of coffee, rooftop conversations, and quiet closeness unravels in the aftermath of a violent patient attack. As the hospital reels, so does Robby—until everything he’s buried comes to the surface. warnings: depiction of violence towards women genre: slow burn, pining, angst, fluff, you both suck at feelings word count: 3.6k a/n: yes this show still has me in a chokehold, this man is old enough to be my father, and protective/emotionally constipated Robby has consumed my every waking thought. also someone please sedate me because I don't know how I'm going to make it between episodes.

Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch always clocked in just after you.

It started as coincidence—years ago, when you were a new year-2 resident fumbling your way through charting and sleep deprivation. You’d arrive blurry-eyed at 5:58 AM, and two minutes later, he'd walk through the side door with two cups of coffee. One always ended up in your hand.

"This is my warm welcome to the pit, I’m not on coffee rounds," he’d grumbled the first time.

"Yet, my savior, here you are," you smiled, taking the cup. "Thanks, Dr. Robby."

He gave you a look, dry and fond. "Don’t get used to it."

Needless to say, you both did.

Now a senior resident, you’ve long since earned your stripes—but the morning coffees kept coming. So did the banter.

"That differential on bed 7 was a mess," Robby muttered one morning.

You sipped from your cup. "I was experimenting with chaos as a teaching strategy."

He stared, deadpan. "Rein it in, Nietzsche."

Late nights sometimes ended on the roof—shoulders nearly touching, silence stretched long between you. The rooftop was a liminal space: above the noise, between shifts, between you and him. You'd talk about patients. About medicine. About what the job takes and what it leaves behind.

One night you’d murmured, "Do you think we make a difference? Or are we just putting out fires that never stop?"

Robby didn’t answer right away. You could hear him breathing. "Some burning buildings are worth running into," he said eventually, voice low like he was admitting something he'd carried a long time.

It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t not. You were close—so close it blurred. You never noticed how often he drifted into your orbit. But others did.

"So... you and Robinavitch—what’s the deal?" McKay would tease with a grin.

You furrowed your brow, genuinely confused. "What do you mean?"

She leaned on the nurses' station, unbothered. "C’mon, you really don’t see it? The way he looks at you? Brings you coffee every morning? Steps in before anyone else can when the ball rolls downhill?"

You waved a hand dismissively. "He just… cares. That’s his job."

McKay raised an eyebrow. "Sure. Except he doesn’t bring me coffee. Or look like he’s going to deck someone if they so much as raise their voice at me."

You opened your mouth to reply—but the sliding ER doors slammed open. A gurney rushed in, shouting echoing off the walls. Without thinking, you turned and ran toward the trauma bay.

"Saved by the bell," McKay called after you, but you were already gone.

But you didn’t see how his eyes tracked you in a crowded hallway, lingering just a second longer than necessary—guarded, but unmistakably drawn. How he'd appear at your side before anyone else when things turned sideways, voice calm but stance protective, like he was positioning himself between you and whatever chaos had just erupted. The way his jaw would tighten when residents spoke too casually around you, especially if their tone dipped into flirtation. The moments when his voice dropped low, quiet and edged with something softer, when asking if you’d made it home safe after shifts—always phrased like a passing question, but one he never failed to ask.

Earlier that week, Robby had been leaning against the counter in the break room with Dana and a few of the nurses clustered nearby. He was sipping bad coffee and flipping through a chart when Dana nudged him lightly with her elbow.

"You know," she started with a smirk. "You're getting pretty soft on that senior resident."

Robby didn’t look up, adjusting the frame of his glasses. "Yeah? What makes you say that?"

Princess glanced at Perlah, who grinned. The two exchanged a few rapid lines in Tagalog—something teasing and full of mischief. Robby raised an eyebrow.

"Just because I don’t speak Tagalog doesn’t mean I don’t know exactly what you’re saying," he said dryly, finally taking off his glasses and staring at the nurses judgementally.

Dana just about cackled. "Come on, Robby. You bring her coffee every morning, you hover when she’s in a tough case, you barely let interns breathe near her."

Perlah added, "And you always look at her like you’re trying not to."

Princess laughed. "Sir, that’s not just coffee—that’s courtship."

Robby rolled his eyes, biting back a smile. "You all have too much time on your hands."

"We're just saying," Dana said as she turned toward the door. "If you're gonna pine, at least be subtle."

He shook his head and muttered, "Back to work, people."

Then came the day everything cracked.

The patient had come in hostile—angry at the world and bleeding from a cut above his brow—muttering about how no one respected him, how women thought they were better than him. According to his chart, he had a record of violent outbursts and a chip on his shoulder the size of the hospital.

"You think you're smarter than me, don't you?" he sneered when you entered the bay, his arms crossed and chest puffed like a bull ready to pick a fight.

You kept your voice calm and professional. "Sir, I'm just here to update your chart and make sure you're getting what you need."

He laughed—sharp and bitter. "What I need is for people like you to stop looking at me like I'm some kind of freak. All you female doctors think you're so much better."

You froze for just a second. "I'm here to provide care. Nothing more."

"Don't lie to me!" he spat. "I see how you talk to the others. You think you're above me like some queen. But you're not. You're just another stupid cunt—"

"I'm going to get another physician to help with your case," you said quickly, trying to disengage, stepping back toward the call button.

"You walk away from me, and I swear—"

The second he was out of your peripheral vision, he lunged.

You cried out as his weight slammed into you, sending you hard to the ground. Everyone around you scattered, the staff protecting patients and patients protecting themselves.

Your elbow struck tile and pain bloomed across the crown of your skull. Your head snapped back like a slap bracelet. He loomed over you, shouting a string of vile insults, hands grabbing at whatever they could. Another set of fingers clamped around your throat. A scream pierced through the air shouting, "Robby!" Only after a set of doors burst open did you realize it was yours.

Before you had time to process what was happening, he was there.

Robby knocked the patient off of you with brute force that stunned the entire hospital staff. Without help, Robby pinned him to the floor facefirst with practiced strength, knees braced, and jaw clenched. "Security!" his voice thundered.

Subduing the attacker by his wrists, Robby's knee dug into the man's back thigh without mercy, making him cry out in pain. "Collins! Dana!" he barked, voice sharp and commanding, reverberating through the trauma bay like a shockwave.

You were on the floor, dazed, breath knocked out of you. The two women rushed to your side in the blink of an eye. All around, med students and residents stood frozen, eyes wide.

They had never seen Robby like that.

No one had ever seen Robby like that.

The patient struggled once more before Robby leaned in and drove his knee harder into the attacker’s thigh, his grip unrelenting, voice low and deadly calm. "Stay down."

Security took over a moment later, but Robby didn’t move until he was sure it was safe. Then he stood, exhaled once, and turned to Dana and Collins.

"I'll be over as soon as I can, brief me later," he said. "I'll assess her myself."

Dana crouched beside you, one hand firm on your shoulder. "We've got you," she said gently, then glanced over her shoulder. "We'll be in 4."

Collins helped you up with care, guiding you slowly down the hall while Dana kept close at your side. You were still disoriented, a sharp ringing in your ears, but you caught a glimpse of Robby speaking to security. He didn’t even glance your way—focused, furious, deadly calm.

In Exam Room 4, Collins set you down on the cot, already checking your pupils with a penlight. "You hit your head?"

"Yeah," you managed, wincing as you moved. "Elbow too. Think I caught most of the floor on the way down."

Dana pressed a cold pack into your hand. "You’re in shock. Just breathe. We’ll handle this."

Collins nodded, gently examining your face and palpating around your ribs. "No obvious trauma, nothing broken. Expect some bruising around your throat the next few days. We should get you in for a head CT just to be safe. You took a hard hit."

"I'll get that booked ASAP," Dana said, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze before stepping out to handle the order. She paused at the doorway just long enough to exchange a glance with Collins—an unspoken check-in—before disappearing down the hall.

Moments later, the door opened again. Robby stepped in, his expression unreadable but his eyes scanning you like he was cataloging every mark, every breath.

"I’ll take it from here," he said quietly to Collins.

They exchanged a glance, then wordlessly stepped out.

And then it was just you and him.

He crossed to your side, kneeling. His hands moved automatically, gently tilting your chin to check for swelling, eyes flicking to your pupils, then the scrape along your cheekbone. "Can you look up for me? Good. Follow my finger."

His voice was low and clinical, but his touch was careful—too careful.

"Headache? Nausea? Double vision?" he asked, bringing your hand into his and turning it over to assess for any injuries.

"No, just a little dizzy," you murmured.

He nodded, eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed your elbow, then the bruising along your neck. Then the questions stopped. His hands stilled.

He just looked at you—really looked at you—and the silence took hold.

His jaw flexed, like he was trying to say something but couldn't. Something had cracked open in him. Not just from what happened. From what it revealed.

And you could feel it—the weight in the room. Something unsaid between you, thick as blood and twice as loud.

You tried to fill the silence. "Dana said she'd put in a rush order for a head CT. Collins didn’t think anything was broken, just some bruising and—"

"Don’t," Robby said, almost too softly.

Your words faltered. You watched him—how his shoulders stayed tense, how his eyes didn’t move from yours, how still he was, like saying the wrong thing might make everything unravel.

"Robby," you said gently. "It's okay, I’m fine."

His jaw clenched, masseter muscles carving his sunken cheeks like a marble sculpture. "No, it's not. You’re not."

He said it so quietly, like he hated the truth of it. Getting up, he ruffled his hair and shook his head, voice still quiet but heavy. "Just... give me a second."

It wasn’t the injury that had shaken him—it was the realization. That in those terrifying few seconds, the worst thing he could imagine had nearly happened. And it wasn’t because you were his resident. Or his colleague.

It was because you were you.

You watched him pace as the silence dragged, your heart still pounding faintly in your ears. "Robby," you tried again, softer this time. "I'm okay, really..."

Still, he said nothing.

You gave a half-scoff, half-sigh, trying to shake off the tension. "I’ve had worse nights. Dana and Collins already cleared me—CT’s just precautionary. Nothing to worry about."

His movements stilled and eyes didn’t leave yours.

"What is it?" you asked, finally, your voice gentle but steady—like you already knew the answer but needed to hear it.

That cracked something in him. He looked away for a beat, jaw flexing again, his breath hitching as if he was holding back something too big to name. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse, raw—nothing like the sharp, composed attending everyone else knew.

"I didn’t know it would feel like that."

He rubs the back of his neck, a self-soothing gesture in an effort to hold back whatever threatens to overflow. "Seeing you on the ground. Hearing you scream. For me. I’ve seen worse—God knows we all have. But nothing’s ever felt like that."

You froze.

His eyes met yours again, and the walls he always held in place—stone and steel and professionalism—weren’t there anymore. He looked at you like he wanted something he had never allowed himself to want. Like he was terrified of the feeling and already grieving it.

You felt the shift like gravity tilting. Like the air changed around you. It was as though the ground beneath you had tipped on its axis.

And suddenly, everything between you was different.

Not unspoken anymore, just unbearable to say aloud.

You felt yourself retreating into the space between what you wanted to feel and what you needed to believe. The part of you that ached wanted to lean forward, close the distance, tell him you felt it too—that terrible, awful, beautiful clarity.

But another part held you back. The part that lived in hospital hallways and stared at name badges and remembered what it meant to be professional. To be younger. A resident. His resident. The part that convinced you it could never be more.

You searched his face, trying to decode what this moment was, or if it had always been there, hiding in quiet coffees and rooftops and restrained glances. And still, he said nothing. Maybe he was waiting. Maybe he didn’t know how to cross that final line either.

So you just sat there in the quiet with him, suspended between the ache and the boundary—between what was true and what you were still too scared to say.

Eventually, you broke. Your voice came out barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry."

His brows furrowed instantly. "For what?"

You shook your head, feeling heat rise behind your eyes. "I don’t know. For not calling for help. For being alone in there. For... allowing this," you gestured between the two of you, "happen." You sniffled. "For letting myself—"

"Don’t," he cut in sharply, but not unkindly. "Don’t you dare apologize for any of that, you did nothing wrong."

You blinked.

He leaned in slightly, voice steady now, like he needed you to hear every word. "You did everything right. You followed protocol. That man was unstable, and what happened wasn’t your fault."

Your lip trembled, but you didn’t speak.

His voice softened again. "And if this is about me... if you think you’ve done something wrong because of how I feel about you—how I care about you—don’t."

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was everything neither of you knew how to name. It sat heavy between you—thick with the ache of things buried too long and the sharp edges of everything that couldn't be said. You could feel it in your chest, pressing against your ribs and threatening to claw itself out, the unspoken confession of a man who just laid bare more than he meant to, and your own desperate need to pretend you didn’t hear it.

But you had. You’d heard it in his voice, in the way his hands had trembled just slightly when he touched your face, in the way his eyes wouldn’t leave yours even when they should’ve.

And now, as your chest rose and fell too quickly and your heart tried to find steady ground, all the small moments you’d buried—or maybe just refused to examine—rushed back like a crashing wave. His hand guiding yours during your very first incision, firm but not overbearing. The coffees every morning—always your usual, always on time. The time he’d found you on the stairwell after you lost your first patient, sobbing uncontrollably, and he didn’t try to fix it—he just sat there beside you until you could breathe again. The rooftop shifts when you couldn’t quiet your incessant thoughts, he somehow always found you there.

The silence that needed no explanation.

It had always been there. A quiet, steadfast presence. Not loud, not showy—but constant.

And now, undeniable.

And maybe you were still trying to find the line between what had always been there and what had just changed—but the silence was no longer uncertain. It was waiting.

You decided to break it.

"Can I kiss you?" you whispered, eyes searching his, breath catching somewhere in your throat.

Robby didn’t answer. Not with words.

He leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. His eyes searched yours, one last moment of hesitation flickering there—one last out, if you wanted it.

But you didn’t. Instead, you met him halfway.

His lips brushed yours, featherlight at first, reverent, like he still couldn’t believe he was allowed. His skin was warm against yours, soft in a way that surprised you. Your fingers found his jaw, the roughness of his beard brushing your palms as your hands slid down slowly, until they came to rest at the curve of his neck—right where his pulse thrummed hard beneath your fingertips.

The kiss deepened a breath later, quiet and aching, full of everything you’d both held back for far too long. His hands rose to cradle your face, holding you like something fragile, like if he wasn’t careful, you might break. His thumbs grazed the corners of your cheekbones, grounding and gentle, anchoring you both in the impossible tenderness of it.

There was nothing hurried about it. Just warmth and softness and the quiet admission of something real. Something that had lived in the silence between you for years.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, exhaling shakily.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a confession.

He let out a breath, rough and shaky against your cheek. "You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that," he murmured. His voice cracked just slightly at the edges—like the truth cost something to say. And maybe it did.

You pulled back enough to see him clearly, your hands resting on his neck, feeling the steady, trembling pulse beneath your fingertips. He looked at you like the moment might vanish if he blinked.

For years, probably. You just hadn’t let yourself admit it. Not through the early mornings or the long nights. Not even when he stood too close, or when his voice turned soft just for you. Not even when your heart always found him in a crowd. But now, with his breath still warm against your lips and his hands still cradling your face like something precious, you couldn’t pretend anymore.

You’d been his and he'd been yours, long before either of you were brave enough to say it. You pulled back just enough to look at him—really look—and gently stroked his cheek, admiring his freckles like newly formed constellations in the sky.

His eyes drop ever so slightly. "I'm old," he starts. "My work-life balance is absolute shit. You deserve someone who can give you what you need."

You stare at him, puzzled. For a second, you think he’s serious—like he's about to start building walls where they’d only just crumbled.

Then you catch the flicker in his expression. The barely-there smirk at the corner of his mouth. He’s only half-serious. Nervous. Teasing you.

You grin, easing the weight with a well-aimed jab. "At least you're not old enough to be my father. And it's not like my hours spent outside work ratio is any better."

He scoffs, ducking his head before shaking it all too lightheartedly.

"And for the record," you add, tapping his chest with a pointed index finger. "This is not some personification of daddy issues, I'll have you know that my father and I have a very healthy relationship."

"Well, that’s a relief," he murmurs, his smile softening as he encloses his fingers around your hand.

You sit back, playful. "I’ll keep you up to date on all the hottest trends the youths engage in. Like cat cafés and strawberry milk matcha lattes. And emotional vulnerability."

He groans, rubbing his face shyly. "God help me."

You grin, careful not to laugh too hard, and lean into him again. "Too late for that, Robinavitch. You’re stuck with me."

"Yeah," he whispered. "I really hope I am."

Outside, the hospital buzzed as it always did—pages overhead, heels echoing on tile, lives beginning and ending behind curtain walls. But for a moment, the noise faded. The only sound was your breathing, his.

And the quiet hum of something long overdue settling into place.

You didn’t know what came next—how this would unfold outside the safety of Room 4, outside of bruises and adrenaline and low-lit confessions. But for now, with his forehead still resting gently against yours, and the weight of unspoken feelings finally aired between you, it didn’t matter.

You had time.

Until a round of cheers and high fives broke the stillness like a confetti cannon bursting into the air.

Both of you jerked apart, startled. Just outside the half-closed door to Room 4 stood a cluster of med students, nurses, residents, and paramedics—huddled together like a peanut gallery, barely containing their glee.

Your face flushed tomato red. You buried it in Robby’s chest as he turned around slowly, one hand instinctively coming up to rest on your back as he started to laugh.

Langdon, of course, was the ringleader. He held up a neon orange post-it like a trophy, waving it proudly as the group chuckled and whooped behind him. In black Sharpie were the words:

UNPLANNED CONFESSION - Langdon & King—the bet circled and underlined. And below it: $7/week. Scribbled in tiny pen just beneath that, barely legible, was a date—six months ago.

He high-fived someone out of view next to him just before giving the two of you an exaggerated thumbs-up, grinning like he’d just won the Super Bowl. On cue, Mel stood up from beside him and gave you a quick wave and a shy smile, arms held tightly by her sides.

You groaned, still pressed into Robby's chest. "I swear to God, if they made a bracket—"

"Oh they definitely made a bracket," Robby said, laughing into your hair.

You peeked up at him, still mortified but grinning. "Are we seriously the plot twist in someone’s trauma bay soap opera?"

"Apparently," he muttered, pulling you closer. "Should we give them something to talk about for next week's episode?"

You scoffed, swatting lightly at his chest. "Take me out to dinner first, will you?"

Outside, the group began to scatter—some called back to rounds, others still giggling as they walked off. But you stayed there, tucked into Robby’s side, warmth blooming in your chest despite the chaos. Whatever came next, you’d figure it out. Together.

And if the hospital had front-row seats to your slow-burn becoming a soft landing? So be it.

2K notes · View notes

starkgaryan · 2 years ago

Text

big bro sukuna because im a sucker for sibling au

Part 2

36K notes · View notes

starkgaryan · 2 years ago

Text

🧛🏻‍♀️ 𝖁𝖆𝖒𝖕𝖎𝖗𝖊 𝕸𝖊𝖉𝖎𝖆 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 🧛🏻‍♀️

🎟 Movies 🎟

Afflicted (2014)

Bakjwi (2009)

Beverly Hills Vamp (1988)

Blade (1988)

Blade II (2002)

Bordello of Blood (1996)

Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992)

Byzantium (2012)

Captain Kronos – Vampire Hunter (1974)

Carmilla (2019)

Cirque du Freak: The Vampire’s Assistant (2009)

Countess Dracula (1971)

Cronos (1993)

Crypt of the Vampire (1964)

Dark Shadows (2012)

Daughters of Darkness (1971)

Dracula (1958)

Dracula (1979)

Dracula 2000 (2000)

Dracula Has Risen From the Grave (1969)

Fright Night (1985)

Fright Night (2011)

From Dusk ‘Til Dawn (1996)

Grave of the Vampire (1972)

Hotel Translvania 1, 2 & 3 (2012, 2015 & 2018

Incense for the Damned (1971)

Interview With the Vampire (1994)

Isle of the Dead (1945)

La Noche de Walpurgis (1971)

Le Frisson des Vampires (1971)

Lesbian Vampire Killers (2009)

Les Deux Orphelines Vampires (1997)

Let the Right One In (2008)

Lèvres de Sang (1975)

Love Bites (1993)

Lust for a Vampire (1971)

Near Dark (1987)

Nosferatu: Phantom der Nacht (1979)

Nosferatu (1922)

Only Lovers Left Alive (2013)

Requiem pour un Vampire (1971)

Stake Land (2011)

Suck (2009)

The Brides of Dracula (1960)

The Hunger (1983)

The Kiss of the Vampire (1963)

The Lost Boys (1987)

The Night Stalker (1972)

The Twilight Saga (2008 - 2012)

The Vampire Lovers (1970)

Thirst (2009)

Vamp (1986)

Vampire’s Kiss (1988)

Vampire (1979)

Vampire Academy (2014)

Vampire Circus (1972)

Vampire in Brooklyn (1995)

Vampires: Los Muertos (2002)

Vampires (1988)

Vampires Suck (2010)

Vampyr (1932)

Vampyros Lesbos (1971)

What We Do In the Shadows (2014)

Yakuza Apocalypse (2015)

📖 Books (Stand Alone) 📖

‘Salem’s Lot by Stephen King

After Ninety Years by Milovan Glišić

Beren and Lúthien by J.R.R Tolkien

Bewitched by Edith Wharton.

Blood Oath by Christopher Farnsworth

Captive by Gabrielle Estres.

Carmilla by Sheridan Le Fanu.

Carpe Jugulum by Terry Pratchett

Children of the Night by Robert E. Howard

Dracula by Bram Stoker

Dracula in Love by Karen Essex

Empire V by Victor Pelevin

Fangland by John Marks

Fevre Dream by George R. R. Martin

Fledgling by Octavia Butler

For the Blood is the Life by F. Marion Crawford

Fragment of a Novel by Lord Byron

Hematoma by Matteo Polk

I Am Legend by Richard Matheson

Interview with the Vampire by Anne Rice

Knight of the Black Rose by James Lowder

Lady Christina by Mircea Eliade

La Femme Immortelle (The Immortal Woman) by Pierre Alexis de Ponson du Terrail

La Jeune Vampire by J.-H. Rosny Aîné

La Morte Amoureuse by Théophile Gautier

La Vampire (The Vampire Countess) by Paul Féval

La Ville Vampire (Vampire City) by Paul Féval

Le Chevalier Ténèbre (Knightshade) by Paul Féval

Let the Right One In by John Ajvide Lindqvist

Lilith by George MacDonald

Lost Souls by Poppy Z. Brite

Manor by Karl Heinrich Ulrichs

Modern Marvels – Viktoriana by Wayne Reinagel

NOS4A2 by Joe Hill

Oil and Water by Lara Ann Dominick

Origin of the Vampyre, by P. J. Parker

Pages from a Young Girl’s Journal by Robert Aickman

Popsy by Stephen King

Renfield: Slave of Dracula by Barbara Hambly

Revelations in Black by Carl Jacobi

Romeo and Juliet and Vampires by Claudia Gabel

Song of The Nephilim, by D. Finica.

Stray Witch by Eva Alton

Sunshine by Robin McKinley

The Blood of the Vampire by Florence Marryat

The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories by Angela Carter

The Bride of Corinth by Robert Southey

The Dark Castle by Marion Brandon

The Dark Tower V: Wolves of the Calla by Stephen King

The Dark Tower VII: The Dark Tower by Stephen King

The Delicate Dependency: A Novel of the Vampire Life by Michael Talbot

The Dragon Waiting by John M. Ford

The Family of the Vourdalak by Count Alexis Tolstoy

The Fate of Madame Cabanel by Eliza Lynn Linton

The Girl with the Hungry Eyes by Fritz Leiber

The Hills of the Dead by Robert E. Howard

The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova

The House of the Vampire by George Sylvester Viereck

The Hunger by Whitley Strieber

The Journal of Edwin Underhill by Peter Tonkin

The Keep by F. Paul Wilson

The Lair of the White Worm by Bram Stoker

The Light at the End by John Skipp and Craig Spector

The Little Sisters of Eluria by Stephen King

The Longest Night by Ray Russell

The Night Flier by Stephen King

The Night Stalker by Jeff Rice

The Pale Lady by Alexandre Dumas

The Room in the Tower by E.F. Benson.

The Silmarillion by J.R.R. Tolkien

The Silver Kiss by Annette Curtis Klause

The Silver Kiss by by Annette Curtis Klause

The Stress of Her Regard by Tim Powers

The Tomb of Sarah by F. G. Loring

The True Story of the Vampire by Count Stanislaus Eric Stenbock

The Vampire by Jan Neruda

The Vampyr by John William Polidori

The Vampyre of Gotham by Lev Raphael

They Thirst by Robert McCammon

Those Who Hunt the Night/Immortal Blood by Barbara Hambly

Travelling with the Dead by Barbara Hambly

Vampire’s Moon by Peter Saxon

Vampire$ by John Steakley

Vampire by Vladimir Dal

Vampire of the Mists by Christie Golden

Vampireology by Nicky Raven & Dugald Steer

Vampires Overhead by Alan Hyder

Varney the Vampire by James Malcolm Rymer

Vlad, the last confession by Chris Humphreys.

Wampir (“The Vampire”) by Władysław Reymont.

With the People from the Bridge by Dimitris Lyacos

📚 Books (Series) 📚

Anno Dracula Series by Kim Newman (Book 1: Anno Dracula)

Blood Books by Tanya Huff (Book 1: Blood Price)

Dark-Hunter by Sherrilyn Kenyon (Book 1: Dark Hunters)

Eternal Night: A Vampire Romance Collection by K. L. Bone (Book 1: Forever Chosen)

Hollows Series by Kim Harrison (Book 1: Dead Witch Walking)

House of Night by P. C. Cast (Book 1: Marked)

Scarlet Cherie: Vampire Series by Ayshen Irfan (Book 1: The Fire Within My Heart)

The Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter Series by Laurell K. Hamilton (Book 1: Guilty Pleasures)

The Dresden Files by Jim Butcher (Book 1: Storm Front)

The Mortal Instruments by Cassandra Claire (Book 1: City of Bones)

The Paranormal Detective Series by Lily Luchesi (Book 1: Stake-Out)

The Saga of Darren Shan by Darren Shan (Book 1: Cirque Du Freak)

The Southern Vampire Mysteries by Charlane Harris (Book 1: Dead Until Dark)

The Twilight Saga by Stephanie Meyer (Book 1: Twilight)

The Vampire Academy by Richelle Mead (Book 1: Vampire Academy)

The Vampire Chronicles by Anne Rice (Book 1: Interview With the Vampire)

The Vampire Diaries by L. J. Smith (Book 1: The Awakening)

Undead by Maryjanice Davidison (Book 1: Undead and Unwed)

Vampire Earth by E. E Knight (Book 1: Way of the Wolf)

🎬 TV Shows 🎬

Angel

Becoming Human

Being Human

Blade: The Series

Blood Ties

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Dark Shadows

Dracula

Forever Knight

From Dusk ‘Til Dawn: The Series

Hemlock Grove

Imortal

La Luna Sangre

Lobo

Mona the Vampire

Moonlight

Penny Dreadful

Salems’ Lot

The Originals

The Vampire Detective

The Vampire Diaries

The Vampyr: A Soap Opera

True Blood

What We Do In The Shadows

Young Dracula

5K notes · View notes

starkgaryan · 3 years ago

Text

I second that

Stranger Things season 5 is dead to me

835 notes · View notes

starkgaryan · 3 years ago

Text

100% agree with everything said

oh, this is bad, this is so bad. this is such a lazy, bad writing. killing yet another new character just because you are scared to touch the main cast, the boring, repetitive thing the duffers do aside, so what you are telling me is that the only possible ending for an outcast, a guy who takes a bunch of the same outcasts under his wing, who was hunted down for something he didn’t do – the only way to end his story is him sacrificing himself? for what? what kind of crimes did he commit that he has to atone and die? he ran away? oh, what an unspeakable sin! not to mention the amount of cliches they used, the ridiculous inner monologue on how he’s not actually a hero eddie was having right before he decided to run back to… i don’t even know what the purpose of that was. it was bad, it was unnecessary and it was cheap. i bawled my eyes out and i’m over crying about it - right now i’m furious. i’m mad because he didn’t even get to clear his name. even after his death he’s getting disrespected, his pictures mocked, he’s still blamed for something he. didn’t. do. nobody but dustin mourns him, nobody but his uncle cares and searches for him and honestly bless this man, he’s representing all of us. i’m so mad because no one but dustin remembers him. the rest of their squad doesn’t even mention his name! this is ridiculous, how could they not talk about him afterwards? it’s like he wasn’t there with them the entire time, like he didn’t just fucking die? what the hell is this reaction? or better yet the lack of it? so. fucking. cheap.

8K notes · View notes

starkgaryan · 4 years ago

Text

Resources For Writing Sketchy Topics

Medicine

A Study In Physical Injury

Comas

Medical Facts And Tips For Your Writing Needs

Broken Bones

Burns

Unconsciousness & Head Trauma

Blood Loss

Stab Wounds

Pain & Shock

All About Mechanical Injuries (Injuries Caused By Violence)

Writing Specific Characters

Portraying a kleptomaniac.

Playing a character with cancer.

How to portray a power driven character.

Playing the manipulative character.

Portraying a character with borderline personality disorder.

Playing a character with Orthorexia Nervosa.

Writing a character who lost someone important.

Playing the bullies.

Portraying the drug dealer.

Playing a rebellious character.

How to portray a sociopath.

How to write characters with PTSD.

Playing characters with memory loss.

Playing a pyromaniac.

How to write a mute character.

How to write a character with an OCD.

How to play a stoner.

Playing a character with an eating disorder.

Portraying a character who is anti-social.

Portraying a character who is depressed.

How to portray someone with dyslexia.

How to portray a character with bipolar disorder.

Portraying a character with severe depression.

How to play a serial killer.

Writing insane characters.

Playing a character under the influence of marijuana.

Tips on writing a drug addict.

How to write a character with HPD.

Writing a character with Nymphomania.

Writing a character with schizophrenia.

Writing a character with Dissociative Identity Disorder.

Writing a character with depression.

Writing a character who suffers from night terrors.

Writing a character with paranoid personality disorder.

How to play a victim of rape.

How to play a mentally ill/insane character.

Writing a character who self-harms.

Writing a character who is high on amphetamines.

How to play the stalker.

How to portray a character high on cocaine.

Playing a character with ADHD.

How to play a sexual assault victim.

Writing a compulsive gambler.

Playing a character who is faking a disorder.

Playing a prisoner.

Portraying an emotionally detached character.

How to play a character with social anxiety.

Portraying a character who is high.

Portraying characters who have secrets.

Portraying a recovering alcoholic.

Portraying a sex addict.

How to play someone creepy.

Portraying sexually/emotionally abused characters.

Playing a character under the influence of drugs.

Playing a character who struggles with Bulimia.

Illegal Activity

Examining Mob Mentality

How Street Gangs Work

Domestic Abuse

Torture

Assault

Murder

Terrorism

Internet Fraud

Cyberwarfare

Computer Viruses

Corporate Crime

Political Corruption

Drug Trafficking

Human Trafficking

Sex Trafficking

Illegal Immigration

Contemporary Slavery

Black Market Prices & Profits

AK-47 prices on the black market

Bribes

Computer Hackers and Online Fraud

Contract Killing

Exotic Animals

Fake Diplomas

Fake ID Cards, Passports and Other Identity Documents

Human Smuggling Fees

Human Traffickers Prices

Kidney and Organ Trafficking Prices

Prostitution Prices

Cocaine Prices

Ecstasy Pills Prices

Heroin Prices

Marijuana Prices

Meth Prices

Earnings From Illegal Jobs

Countries In Order Of Largest To Smallest Risk

Forensics

arson

Asphyxia

Blood Analysis

Book Review

Cause & Manner of Death

Chemistry/Physics

Computers/Cell Phones/Electronics

Cool & Odd-Mostly Odd

Corpse Identification

Corpse Location

Crime and Science Radio

crime lab

Crime Scene

Cults and Religions

DNA

Document Examination

Fingerprints/Patterned Evidence

Firearms Analysis

Forensic Anthropology

Forensic Art

Forensic Dentistry

Forensic History

Forensic Psychiatry

General Forensics

Guest Blogger

High Tech Forensics

Interesting Cases

Interesting Places

Interviews

Medical History

Medical Issues

Misc

Multiple Murderers

On This Day

Poisons & Drugs

Police Procedure

Q&A

serial killers

Space Program

Stupid Criminals

Theft

Time of Death

Toxicology

Trauma

297K notes · View notes

starkgaryan · 4 years ago

Text

Things I Loved About Eternals

*SPOILER WARNING*

wow that was an amazing movie and it fucked me up I have so many emotions

let’s go down the list of Immortal Family Angst

1. The Immortal Family Angst: First off, the 7000-year-old gods were gorgeous and powerful and petty and human, which is everything I could’ve asked for in a Mythological Deities movie. They’ve definitely got that Greek Mythology Olympians vibe with their differing fields of expertise (what they were made for + what they came to embody over the centuries), but I guess what makes them more or less fucked up than Greek gods is their unquestionable love for each other. Isn’t that such a curse and a blessing?

2. The physical disability representation from Makkari: When she spoke, everyone automatically fell silent, and not once in the film was her disability a hindrance to her. Why? Because her 7000-year-old family members accommodated her needs, which isn’t that impossible to do. (Headcanon: her machine body might’ve been built with deaf ears because constantly breaking the sound barrier might be disastrous to the eardrums, maybe. Also I love her combat style, speed is deadly.)

3. The mental disability representation from Thena: This was done so well, with Ajak continuously reminding her, “You are loved,” with the others supporting her in not wanting to give up who she is, with Gilgamesh agreeing to keep her company through the years and constantly being there to remind her that just because she can’t fight the same way she used to doesn’t mean she is less loved.

Mental illness can become more difficult to deal with when one experiences the loss of a loved one. Thena’s character arc showed that though Gilgamesh was gone, the progress she had made and the determination to stay with her recovery did not become null. Sometimes remembering the love that was given to you is the reminder you need to continue to accept yourself, illness and all. (That cave battle metaphor for mental illness was on point. The Deviant was doomed the moment he quoted Gilgamesh without truly understanding the humanity he’d stolen from him.)

4. Phastos’s loving family representation: How about this disillusioned god of inventions, who saw all the bad that humanity could do and also rediscovered the good that humanity could offer? He’s a gay black man who’s got a happy, loving relationship with his handsome husband and his beautiful son. Wow did I love seeing this on the big screen. (Also his combat scenes? What a badass.)

5. Ajak, Ikaris, Gilgamesh, and fate: Let’s talk about these three. In a way, Ajak and Ikaris’s endings were almost fated due to the choices they made. Ajak could’ve chosen to stand her ground sooner, or could’ve not burdened her favorite child with the heaviest weight she carried. Ikaris could’ve chosen to accept the change of plans and reassessed his faith earlier. But neither of them could shake off the responsibility they were indoctrinated into that easily. Ajak’s favor of Ikaris might’ve doomed them both, but how could a mother love her son and not give him a chance to prepare for the approaching end? Could she have truly avoided raising him in the spitting image of herself? The loneliness she must have felt, with her burden. A Shakespearean tragedy, in the flesh.

In contrast, Gilgamesh did nothing to deserve his fate. Where Ajak was the Mind, Gilgamesh was obviously the Heart. He’s the one who volunteers to dedicate his life to helping Thena live hers. Without Gilgamesh, Ikaris would’ve died in the Amazon forest. He’s the protector, readily sharing comforting words and good food, as well as a badass fist. You could say he’s the purest embodiment of who an Eternal is. It makes me feel some type of thing, knowing that the tale of Gilgamesh is the first human epic we have a remaining record of, and it’s the story of a man who grew into a good, compassionate king and met a very human death. (Interesting how the Deviant became so human-like after absorbing Gilgamesh’s essence.)

Ajak, Ikaris, and Gilgamesh, despite their godly power, are not named after gods. They are named after mortal heroes (Ajax and Icarus from Greek mythology, Gilgamesh from ancient Mesopotamian mythology). Like their namesakes, it was not their power that defined who they were, and for them were reserved the most human ends.

6. Ikaris, Sprite, and immortality: They really came for my throat with the Peter Pan and Tinkerbell reference. Eternal youth isn’t all that great, especially for Sprite or Ikaris. Peter Pan killed his mother because he couldn’t bear to break out of his old way of life. He was unwilling to grow up. In contrast, Sprite wants more than anything else to be able to grow up, but is held in stagnation against her will. But in the end, when Peter Pan is gone and Wendy Darling is the new immortal leader of Neverland, Tinkerbell chooses what Wendy Darling had and leaves her old self behind. She changes.

(In the beginning of the movie, the title Eternals sounds grand and impressive. But near the end of the movie, when Ikaris talks about eternity with Sersi, the name no longer sounds glorious. Eternity sounds like a curse.)

7. Kingo and his faith: Take notes, Ikaris, this is how not to wage a holy war in the name of your faith. Kingo did leave Sprite to loneliness to pursue his love of movies, but at his core, his first and foremost love is for his family. (Something about Fighter Classes and how they throw themselves into danger for the other robot deities does something to my heart.) Despite his love for humanity, he cannot compromise his beliefs. That does not mean he is willing to harm others for that faith, because that is not what faith should be for. (Looking at you, Ikaris.)

8. Druig and his burned-out love: What a way to deal with a morally gray mind-controlling god, whose only wish was for humans to stop fighting and live companionably together. Here’s this deeply tired, flawed person who was unable to lose his empathy, however hard he may have wanted to. He was willing to shoulder the blame for preventing a Celestial’s birth if it meant sparing Sersi the weight, and I think that might be the essence of his character.

9. Sersi and her destructive creation: Finally, we come to the sorceress of myth (named after Circe from Greek mythology). Sersi is the most loving, kind-hearted person, but the power of creation she wields is the most destructive force of all. She shares the same characteristic with Celestials. This movie seems to be saying, ‘look hard at miraculous acts of creation, and make sure you know what the price of that creation is’.

“It is the most natural thing in the world to want to protect the one you love,” said Gilgamesh. Sersi did so, and so did Ikaris. What a shame that it was such a struggle for Ikaris to do the most natural thing in the world. What a shame that Sersi’s heart made a choice that would weigh her down with enormous guilt and terrible repercussions. It should not be so terrible to want to protect, and yet.

(Maybe it’s the way these robot deities were programmed, but every one of these people seem to have an instinctive love for humans and their world. That includes Ikaris, who took one last look back at the beautiful planet he had loved for several millennia, before flying into his destruction. If he had listened to love more than duty, things might be different. But then he wouldn’t be Ikaris. Again, Shakespearean.)

10. Celestials and their birth: What if all Celestials who were brought forth into the world by Eternals are a little in love with them, from that first mind-meld at the beginning of their life? What if Tiamut, while connecting with these tiny implements of birth and creation, saw their sorrow for the destruction of a beloved planet and chose—with a newborn deity’s own free will—to make the sacrifice for these grieving, loving robots? (Why the continuous cycle of rebirth for this specific group of robots? Can this expression of sentiment be explained in any other way than love? Arishem may not be aware how much his tools are loved.)

(Also I can’t believe the eventual death of the universe, which is highly likely considering the actual science of everything, can be explained mythologically as Star-Forgers who grew too compassionate for the products of their creations and chose a slow and certain death over a hard-reset cycle. What a story.)

(If you think of the planet as the mother and the Celestial as the child, the movie is a pro-abortion metaphor. Of course mothers have a right to abortion if the pregnancy is life-threatening. The potential for new life cannot outweigh the free choice of who is already here. It’s a question of seeing humans as mere implements of procreation or as actualized individuals with vibrant lives.)

11. Love can take many forms: Safe, sane, and consensual sex is a perfectly natural activity for humans in love. Cohabitation of platonic life partners is also a perfectly natural manifestation of love. Familial love is a wonderful thing when shared with the right people. Kissing is a beautiful affirmation of love, but it is not a requirement for two people to share a special connection together. The forehead touches in this movie made me scream internally. (Druig and Makkari own my soul, by the way. I don’t entirely understand how this happened. My heart I’ve given to Gilgamesh and Thena. Sersi can have my everything else.)

12. Found Family Dynamics: This actually wrecked me. The way Sersi and Ikaris acted in Phastos’s home, like they felt comfortable to be there, in that house and in that company. The way Ajak loved and cared for her children, and how she tried her hardest to do right by them despite knowing she was merely a tool. The way Druig, Makkari, and Phastos shared a couch. The way everyone laughed around Gilgamesh’s dinner table. The way Sprite told a story. The way Kingo said the word “family.” The way they waited for Thena to wake up. Just, so much about them. (I might need some AU fics to mend the hole they left in me.)

13. The Good Humans: Shout-out to Dane, Karun, Phastos’s family, and the other good humans I’m probably forgetting. Congratulations, your decency and kindness prompted a group of robot deities to fight for your continued survival. Keep being the good parts of humanity.

Conclusion: This is the best multi-character movie I have seen in my life. I became so intensely enamored with all of the individual characters, it was unreal. THIS is how you do a multi-character movie. What a masterpiece.

10K notes · View notes