#old man vampire with questionable morals??

[troublemakingrebel]

[muntitled]

Clockwork | Park Sunghoon

Vampire!Sunghoon x Fem!Reader

Summary: “If there’s one thing stronger than your need to feast,” You lift that hand up once again, “-its your need to fuck."

Warnings: Language, Implied Violence, Dark Fic, Morally Ambiguous!Reader, Blackmail, Reader has a crush, Librarian!Reader, Implied age gap, Confrontation, Smut (+18) mdni, Blood Kink, Biting, Sadism, Masochism, Dom!Sunghoon, Sub!Reader, public sex, dub/Con, fingering, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Ownership kink, Pain Kink, Marking, Dumbification, Dacryphilia

Idek yall…

They are such stuff as monsters are made of.

That is the very last thing you are taught about Sunghoon.

That he is something to fear.

Predatory.

Killer.

But all you saw and all you’ll ever see is the boy casted in the shadows of library bookshelves. This is the setting that births your obsession- no- your love for him.

Every Thursday afternoon.

When the library has cleared out.

The only time he’s not with his family. The only time he’s alone.

Like clockwork.

“What do we have here?” A phrase you were obligated to say. Not many townsfolk valued literature and those that did, as per your boss, “needed to find every reason to come back.” Even if that meant mustering a robotic sunshine smile. As if you were a cashier at Starbucks and not a small town librarian.

How you managed to speak so coherently with Sunghoon looming on the other side of the desk remains a complete and utter mystery. If you were driven, otherwise, by the bundle of love knots in your stomach you might have stuttered foolishly and squeaked your way through scanning his books.

“Books.” He answers curtly, brusquely, leaving absolutely no room for further conversation- or interrogation, as it would apparently appear.

Sunghoon is not looking at you. His eyes - those endless golden voids-, are looking down at the mahogany desk you are standing on the opposite side of. You wish for more than anything to feel that otherworldly feeling of having those golden eyes focused completely on you.

What must that feel like?

To have Sunghoon’s sole, undivided attention.

You would soon have the unfortunate pleasure of finding out.

“W-Well I know they’re books,” You continue, stating this with an airy, light chuckle. A chuckle that indicated this conversation should have been over a long time ago and that you’re blatantly aware of that. Why aren’t you keeping your mouth shut?

“I mean- Well I just mean, you know it’s not everyday a 20 year old takes out,” You glance down at the book in your hands before sending it through the system, “Wuthering Heights?” Your brows furrow as you send a second one of his books through the scanner, “Turn of The Screw?” And the final, “Frankenstein-Mary Shelley?"

You quirk a questioning eyebrow up at him- one silently inquiring ‘what the fuck’s up with the archaic books, grandpa?’ But he, of course, is not sparing you a single glance.

Or wait- he does. But for the briefest moment.

"I enjoy literature.” It almost makes you keel over in inexplicable discomfort, the way the words were chewed on before they were forcibly spat out. You can see he is done entertaining your mindless spiel but for some weird, fucking stupid reason, you’re not done with him.

“Well yeah, sure. But I mean, the dust on these books are ageless, you must be the first man to borrow these in like, 40 million years-”

“21.” It is all he says. One little word that cuts your rant short like a heated knife. You glance up at him, hoping those dazzling eyes look down at you.

And they do.

Bloody, fucking, Christ. They do.

“You said 20. I’m 21.” Before you were about to ask how that could be the case- how Sunghoon could be older than you when you distinctly remember finishing high school the same year?

He decides to shock you.

“I got… held back a year. I was already supposed to have graduated.” You are not sure whether it’s the sprinkle of rain that has begun falling. Whether it was the weight of the impenetrable fact that Sunghoon fucking Park has just spoken to you more words than he’s ever said your entire high school career. Or whether-and this may exactly be it-you were affected by those blazing eyes that glided backup to look at you.

Not golden.

Blazing.

For the golden hues have simmered into something darker. They’ve literally bled into a darker shade of the gold-almost yellow hues in his eyes. The breath completely escapes your throat. This time he does not look away.

“R-Right. Of course. Sorry.” You had nothing to be sorry for. How could you ever have known any of Sunghoon’s and his weird friends’ ages when the only people they directly interacted with were the teachers and themselves? You could never have known Sunghoon was 21 and therefore did not need to apologise but… those eyes… they made you sorry.

“It’s just-” why the fuck, after everything, after all of that, is your mouth still moving? It’s like this was your only opportunity of bravery. Your only window letting through a sliver of courage before you would retreat in on yourself for the rest of your waning time in this town. Moving amongst the books like a spectre before you ran off to college.

This was your only opportunity.

“Well they’re all Victorian.” You finally let those words tumble out of your mouth.

You hear the sharp intake of breath.

“Bronte, James, Shelley.” You slide the books to him. “All Victorian… is this pattern the product of some trend I’m missing out on?” You chuckle lightly at the end of that, hoping to wrench one out of him too but you knew that was an impossible feat. Still, the chuckle drains down your throat when you hand him his books. Your fingers, still encircled around the hardbacks, brush over him accidentally.

“Jesus, are you cold?”

He pulls away quickly, evading eye contact like you’d turn him to stone. Evading your touch like your skin scorched his. “It’s raining. I-I could give you a ride-”

Sunghoon gulps visibly. In the span of a single conversation, those dark-golden eyes have stayed firmly on you but now they are prying you apart.

“That won’t be necessary.” He says, swallowing thickly once more.

“Of course.” You wave him off, immediately overcome by the embarrassment of your own presumptuous nature. Sunghoon's gaze drifts down to the books once more.

No. You can’t afford the dismissal. You can’t bear the non-verbal rejection any longer.

The faucet that is your mouth, just continues spewing.

“Vampires aren’t usually the ones being offered a ride, are they?” You turn your head, focusing on the raindrops shooting pellets at the tall library window. Your gaze appears far away but that’s what you want him to think. In your periphery, you see his eyes snap up from the mahogany desk with his head following; enough to make those dark strands bounce in surprise. You know you finally have him.

“I’m the victim,” You continue basking in the attention. Retaining more satisfying heat from his gaze alone than the husky fluorescent buzzing above you both. You are suddenly all too aware that the library is deserted.

“I’m supposed to be coaxed into your car. That’s how it works right? Like Bundy."

You lazily swing your gaze back from the window until you meet his eyes that have bled into an even darker shade of gold. So dark the gold has vanished completely, actually, leaving two soulless depths. His eyes scream, ‘how do you know?’

His jaw is tightened like screws and his fist is clenched so tight it should spout blood.

But there is no blood, is there? Dead things lose all of that.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about-” You lift a hand up. Right there, right in front of his stone face, silencing him immediately.

“That dance gets a little bit tedious, doesn’t it?” You laugh loudly into the hollow air filled with nothing but raindrops and thunder. “A little bit boring?” You give him a smirk. “I know one thing your little family specialises in isn't boredom.”

You make the unforeseen move of stepping back from your computer, slowly making a show of sauntering around the desk. Sunghoon's dark irises track you like a sniper and you revel in it.

You must stop your hands from fisting at your own sides.

You must maintain the little control you have, or it might just cost you your life.

“You're wrong,” he says, “The books. They’re not all Victorian.”

He’s stalling. Deflecting. Trying to distract himself from your nearing frame.

“Frankenstein,” he continues, “Shelley published it in 1818, that’s just short of the start of Victoria’s reign.”

You give him a small, tight-lipped smile.

“Hm. You would know though, wouldn’t you?”

He is pulled into silence.

“But back to your little lie.” Your path is set and your mind is made. “Vampire's daylighting as average university students? That’s a good fucking story.” You nod slowly, “A good fucking story.” You take small, tentative strides closer to him. Not wanting to engage too quickly. Sunghoon was big, tall and looming. Having that kind of frame tense- more tense than he already is, would only result in a blood bath. Your blood bath.

“Everyone at school, everyone in this town thinks you’re all so goddamn close but you wanna know what I think?” You saunter closer and he inhales sharply.

“No.”

You tsk and click your tongue, not stopping your calm gait whatsoever until his scent completely enveloped you. So empty and… dead.

A smell that can’t be masked by the most expensive cologne and yet you enjoyed it. It made your blood race and if what you knew was true, then he could hear the erratics of your heart as well. You wanted him to.

“See, Hoonie-”

“Sunghoon.”

“Hoonie. Why else would you be entertaining this nonsense?” You continue moving closer until his back is pressed against the wooden desk, looking down at you with a near pitch black abyss. You look up at him, feigning innocent doe eyes as you pressed your voluminous chest against him. You dare even let your hand drift over his black, cotton sweater.

“I could-” Sunghoon's eyes flutter closed before he snaps them open again. “I could hurt you. But you know that, don’t you?” A finger slips itself under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

Or so you thought.

He continues to lift your chin until you were looking up at the fluorescent light. Then, and only then, did you understand that he was baring your neck to him.

“Aw, Sunghoon.” You chastise lightly, still letting him do with you as you please. Unbeknownst to him, you were leaning in closer, letting your hand slip onto the desk behind him until you found just what you were looking for.

Letter opener.

“I’m counting on you to hurt me, Silly.”

You finally pull back, before he can lower himself further in-before he could go in for the kill.

You aim the sharp two-edged blade of the letter opener into your left palm and, with all the reserve in the world, you cut a long, shallow gash all the way in.

The very second your palm stains crimson, Sunghoon's entire build begins to shake. His chest begins to heave uncontrollably. His face is perfectly the same but somehow you still hear the hungry tufts of air leaving his nostrils, even over the raging rain outside and you smile.

“Trust me.” You say,

“I’m counting on you hurting me,”

“You’re really goddamn stupid, you know that?“ He says cockily, feigning his control when his pitch black eyes are a dead giveaway. The pupils are trained on the beoken skin along your palm and that alone. The blood has begun dripping aimlessly down your palm and you hold it up to him, showing him his prize. Showing him everything he’s been missing.

"Maybe I am. Maybe I’m crazy and stupid.” You discard the letter opener on the carpet beside you. It clunks to the ground and you let out a little sigh.

“You can go ahead and bite me Sung-” You might not explicitly be on a nickname basis, but you figured now was as good a time as any to familiarise yourself with each other, since-

“You’re gonna turn me."

Sunghoon finally rips his onyx eyes away from the dripping crimson faucet and he stares down at you questioningly.

"Why would I do that?” Some hair has fallen in front of his left eye but he makes no move to brush it away, so naturally, you do it for him… using your bleeding left hand.

“Well… because you’re you. And self restraint isn’t very you, Sunghoon.” You tuck the dark strand, now stained lightly with your blood, behind his ear and you begin to trail your hand slowly down the side of his face. Sunghoon's eyes flutter closed and he leans, whether voluntarily or involuntarily, right into your bleeding grip. He turns his head sideways and inhales sharply.

“I knew it.” You marvel at the boy before you. “Sure it was just a theory but- it all fell serendipitously into place: The absent days when it’s sunny out. The deathly paleness. The untouched lunch trays. The old ass books that probably give away your real age.” His eyes are still closed and he is still moving his cheek against your bleeding hand. He hums unintelligibly.

“The ice cold skin was my final check.”

“How clever.”

He produces the first smile you’ve ever seen and the beauty of it releases a wave of endorphins and butterflies in your gut. “You want a cookie for that?” He has a dangerously gorgeous lopsided grin that, coupled with the gleaming, pointed canines that have emerged, leaves your pulse quickening in more places than your heart.

“What’s to stop me from ripping you open right now? There’s no one here. No one will be here in time to stop me from killing you.” He turns to look at you and you almost gasp at how severely sexy your smeared blood on his cheek looks.

“Give me reasons.” He urges with his voice bouncing off the walls.

“I need reasons or-” his eyes flutter closed “-or I just might do it. I will kill you.”

You needed to maintain control. But in that moment you knew and feared that you and him were beginning to realise that your dominant reserve was slipping right through your fingers. It was your turn in the hot seat. Okay.

You got what you wanted. Find out what you needed to find out. But all that came at a price.

You try to keep your voice steady as you answer him.

“As much as it annoys you and me, Sunghoon, it is a fact that you wanna fit in with everyone else.” Sunghoon's eyes never leave yours as you continue talking. “You probably never really had a home and this town allows you to blend in with the rest of us.” He breathes deeply through his nose. “Killing the bookkeeper would put this little fantasy life you've built for yourself in jeopardy,” Your breathing is irregular and harsh and you look at his lips and oh god you need to taste him.

“But you’re still you, Sunghoon. This town can’t and never will change that fact. You’re not like the rest of us,” You finally say, “You’re not-”

In a blur and manipulation of time, space and all the little things in between, you’ve been transported with a swift dash across the room until you were being held by the throat against a bookshelf. Pain stems from the sudden and rapid movement but the firm and unwavering squeeze on your throat, elicits a wave of lust.

“I’m done playing your little mind games.” He’s seething and he’s angry and he’s right where you want him.

“Oh? But we were having so much fun, Sung-” He squeezes your windpipe, so incredibly close to crushing it.

“What do you want?”

You let the first ever genuine smile slip onto your face.

“For you to turn me, Hoonie."

He pauses. Quite literally.

Sunghoon's rapid breathing goes to a complete stand still and his form goes as still as a statue. You deduce that this is him thinking. He’s mapping out all the possible shit storms this would conjure up for him and his precious family and you hold the will to roll your eyes. After a few stunted seconds, Sunghoon eases back again.

"Once I start-”

“You won’t stop? Sunghoon, we’ve been eye fucking this entire time. I'm not sure what it is about Blackmail that gets you off but it's not difficult to see how bad you need it.” He squeezes your throat again in warning, already telling you all you need to know.

He's not sure why he's attracted to you. He shouldn't be. Whether its the fact that you should already be dead for even knowing his secret- for thinking you can offee him an ultimatimatum- its your sheer fucking guts that has him warming with attraction.

Your words slowly bring him up for air. “If there’s one thing stronger than your need to feast,” You lift that hand up once again, “-its your need to fuck. Vampires are immortal so they draw pleasure from the little things. The pleasurable things. That bulge in your pants can’t go unnoticed, Sunghoon, no matter how long you want it t-”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes before he murmurs: “Just shut up,”

He crashes his lips right onto yours. The kiss is not only electric but it’s magnetic. As if you would not be able to pull away even if you wanted to. And his firm grip on your throat keeps you there. It’s strong and he squeezes as he licks on your bottom lip, coaxing the opening out of you. So naturally, you moan, and the bastard uses the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth.

You needn’t open your eyes to see he was half-smiling into your kiss. That little nugget of information made you need him even more. During your kiss, you squeeze your legs together. Sunghoon hums disapprovingly in your mouth, sending his other hand down your thigh, urging them apart.

“You can’t do that.” He breaks the kiss and says the words at a perfectly even breathe, meanwhile you were a heaving mess.

“What?” You inquire dumbly, all too focused on his hand on your jeans to rather give a fuck about anything else.

“Pathokinesis.” Is all he says before he ducks down into the crook of your neck, ripping the gasp out of your lungs by force. His large hand around your throat moves up to your cheek, rubbing the skin with his thumb softly.

“Don’t do that.” He says into your neck before venturing to flick his tongue out, licking the skin and driving you all too insane. You almost don’t register his words but the weight of his revelation has you tumbling to your senses momentarily.

“What? So you can like-”

“Sense and manipulate your emotions?” He says, coming up from your neck. “Yeah.” He nods once before he takes your mouth in his once more.

“What you feel,” he mumbles in between the kiss, “I feel too."

Yet another gasp strains your throat when you feel two sharp teeth graze against the skin of your plump bottom lips as Sunghoon pulls away.

Have you really thought any of your movements through?

What if sex with a vampire was fatal?

You’re about to spiral into oblivion before Sunghoon speaks up.

"No.” He says curtly, and you’re all too aware of the hand trying to push past your denim jeans. “You’re not pulling back on me now. Not after everything.” You’re in awe of his words.

“Jesus, so you really can feel everything.”

That life threatening smile again.

“Pretty much.”

He begins to undo the buttons of your pants tentatively, almost meticulously, as if you were fortunate to have all the time in the world. You’re about to urge him to hurry the fuck up but one of the shelves behind your head collapses. Books fall to a sad heap on the floor and the wood is snapped in tiny pieces. Sunghoon's hand was leaning against that particular shelf.

Maybe he’s not as calm as he’d like to convey.

“There is one thing,” the buttons are undone but he’s stopped moving his fingers. They are in fact paused on the lining of your underwear. The material is calmly in between his index and thumb, creating the sickest, most twisted need you’ve ever felt. You almost abandon modesty and grind into him right then and there.

His next words however, have you almost wanting to keel over in grief.

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” he says with a sick smile.

“Why?” It's all you can manage and suddenly, you think the universe must be smiling at the irony of this situation. The encounter had begun with You as the master of this blackmail, yet here you were, grovelling for him.

“I think you’re really good at getting what you want,” he says, leaning forward and slowly, oh so slowly, letting his hand slip into the fabric. The graze of his fingers on you cunt alone making you almost sob out in need.

“And I’m not gonna allow that.” He concludes before pushing his hand all the way in. Sunghoon does nothing but snicker when he feels the pool of wetness.

“This is how this is gonna work,” he uses his free hand to pick up your limp left one. The wound is of considerable size however, the blood is not flowing as much but it’s still there.

“You’re gonna give me this.” He lifts your limp hand up and you comply like a puppet on a string. “And I’m gonna give you this.” His fingers-the index and the middle,- flick over your clit, causing you to let out an aching whimper.

“Got it?” He’s already placing your bloody palm against his plump lips and you’re too enamoured. Too enamoured at the sight of his tongue sticking out and lapping at the blood as if it were a healing potent. You’re too enamoured to respond and he does not like this one bit.

Sunghoon flicks another finger against your clit.

“JESUS!” You scream into the empty library. Sunghoon, who’s eyes were closed, shoots open and he hums disapprovingly.

“No,” he says irritably, “Sunghoon. Say Sunghoon.”

You’re a drunken, sex filled mess. “Fuck-Sunghoon.” He smiles, satisfied, before returning to your palm. You begin to grind into his fingers and his chuckles.

“Sung… Sunghoon please.” There are tears staining your eyes and you’re so completely torn apart. The thrill of it being in a public setting. The rain. The licking on your palm. It’s too much.

Way too fucking much.

“Please? Please let you finish?” Sunghoon asks mockingly and a sob releases from your throat as your hips begin to buck into his hands. “You’d like me to let you cum all over my hand?”

“Please, Hoonie. Please.”

“That’s a shame…” He replies, “I thought we were having so much fun.” You do not even have the strength to act stunned at having your words being flung back at you, you’re too focused on the fingers that have slipped inside of you and the hissing noise escaping Sunghoon's throat.

It’s all so unbelievable. Sunghoon pulls back and hisses loudly. Your heart stops at the sight of his canines elongating even further but that all falls away when he sinks them further into your palm. Biting down.

Hard.

“Hoon..” You're completely out of it. The fingers slide in and out and in and out, searching rapidly for your g-spot, but in the very same breath, there’s a sharp, bright and blinding pain in your left palm, letting the tears fall as they may.

“Fuck, Sunghoon! Oh god! It hurts! It hurts so fucking bad!” You’re sobbing but his fingers inside you are relentless and his sucking, even more so. You feel like nothing but an object of his pleasure as your hand begins to grow numb. Sure he was bringing you to orgasm, the very same time you felt even that was for his own pleasure.

Never had you experienced a pain quite like this. This pain felt otherworldly. Diabolical. As if someone were ripping the nails right out of your fingers. As if you slammed the car door in on your hand repeatedly.

And the pain. God, the pain is white and bright, you fear passing out may be inevitable.

Sunghoon brings his head up, releasing his fangs from your palm but continuing his assault by licking and sucking on the two indents. “I know, my beautiful, beautiful girl,” he says, “I know."

The sobs stop, perhaps because you want to hear his voice. Perhaps because you feed on his praises. "You’re so beautiful, you know that?” he mutters unsoundly in between his licks, “So pretty, so perfect.” You realise he’s as delirious as you, his eyes are wide, gazing down at the madwoman before him with his own madness swirling in his irises. His lips are stained red and somehow that sets you over the edge.

“Hoonie?”

His eyes are red. Blood red. You gasp. “I’m-” You don’t finish the sentence, already feeling your orgasm crest as you carelessly fling yourself over the edge. It hits you and you forget all about the pain. All about the blood.

“That’s it, my pretty, pretty girl.” He encourages and your body is shaking violently against the book rack. Your eyes are screwed shut and you’re rocking uncontrollably into his hand.

In that moment, Sunghoon may have thought that he gained everything, but you gained far more. And when you come out of that high, once the fog cleared and the rain simmered down to a tiny, light pitter patter.

You begin to feel…

New.

“Welcome to immortality, Beautiful.” He whispers in your ear with that recognizable lopsided smirk.

You feel… empty. Drained. You feel nothing at all.

“Population… You”

[sabaldax]

olrox theory

i think there's a deeper meaning to alucard telling olrox "he's a good man, keep him safe" after mizrak gets wounded. i think it might actually be alucard giving olrox permission. more under the cut

we know olrox's past lover was a mohican man with a strong connection to his people and his country. he was an idealist and a revolutionary. the way olrox describes him in s1, he sounds like a hero. i don't think julia belmont would have a reason to kill the man olrox is describing in that scene.

but olrox isn't talking about what happened after he turned his lover into a vampire.

imagine this: olrox's lover - a goodhearted, strong man with good morals and dreams of peace and freedom - is mortally wounded in a revolutionary battle. olrox can't bear to lose him, so he turns him. olrox doesn't ask - there's no opportunity to - if he doesn't act now, it will be too late. his lover comes back to him as a vampire. at first, olrox is overjoyed. he'll never be alone again. his love story never needs to end. he can love without question or shame and be loved in return, forever.

only, his lover comes back wrong.

if we think of "becoming a vampire" a bit like "rolling the cosmic dice on whether or not your soul will stay intact"? olrox's lover just doesn't pass the check. he's still very much in love with olrox when he comes back - if anything, he's more in love than ever - because olrox just gave him everything he needs to turn the tide.

he goes off the deep end. olrox stands aside and watches in quiet resignation as his lover starts killing indiscriminately, even the revolutionaries he'd previously fought alongside. he becomes the monster in the night, the thing everybody is afraid of. and with good reason: he's killing men, women and children, annihilating the invaders. restoring his people and country to how they were before, how they were always supposed to be, unmarred by colonists.

olrox watches on, unwilling to intervene. but quietly, he's heartbroken that this is what he turned his lover into - that the honourable, peaceful man he fell in love with lost himself somewhere between his deathbed and his second life.

that's why julia belmont comes for him. it's why she targets olrox's lover, but not olrox himself. because olrox, the aztec vampire, is low on the radar compared to the current and active threat decimating entire populations in new england. and olrox still comes for her in due course - still takes her life to avenge the only man he's ever loved. but, deep down? olrox understands why she did it.

so fast forward to now. in s1, when mizrak says "because he was a vampire, and you did that to him. did you even ask permission?", olrox gets angry. that's not something we see him do anywhere else. he's always calm, always calculated, until mizrak hits that sore spot right on the head. did you even ask permission? no, olrox didn't. he didn't have time to. he was going to lose him. he couldn't lose him. you did that to him. olrox did. olrox did that to him. because he put his needs first. because he couldn't lose him. because he was a vampire. but his lover wasn't just any vampire, in the end. he was a nightmare unleashed. he became everything he used to hate in the world, when he was alive - and that was because of olrox.

maybe that's why olrox answers mizrak with a lie:

"and is that what you have planned for me?"

"of course not, mizrak. i'm not in love with you."

olrox lies, because he can't bear to face the truth: that he's in love again, and he would do it all again. every bit of it. that if mizrak were dying - a good man, an honourable man with good values and morals, a good man who could so easily become an unstoppable bloodthirsty killer - if mizrak were dying, olrox would still gamble his soul rather than let him go. olrox is willing to roll those dice.

((it's different this time, though. genuinely different. old man coyote presumably wasn't waiting in the wings to take olrox's past lover's soul, the way he is for mizrak. maybe olrox would have let mizrak pass on otherwise. i like to think so, honestly. i think he'd have honoured his previous lover by not repeating the cycle.))

and we know alucard and olrox know each other. they have at least some amount of history. and since olrox told mizrak about his previous lover, it seems fair enough to say olrox is willing to talk about it provided the other party is a very handsome man. it stands to reason that he's told alucard.

so let's say alucard knows. alucard knows that olrox's last lover was dying, and olrox saved him, and his last lover came back wrong. more to the point: alucard knows what olrox is thinking.

i don't know what to do. i can't bear to lose him but i can't bear to see him come back wrong.

so alucard says what he needs to hear:

he's a good man. keep him safe.

i'm not sure what that means yet. maybe alucard's saying, "he's a good man, a genuinely good man. this time it will be different. so don't let him go to old man coyote. keep him safe from that hell." or maybe alucard is saying, "he's a good man, too. just like the last one. so don't risk losing him to the darkness. don't roll those dice."

or maybe i'm just deeply, profoundly mentally ill, and season 3 will roll around and they'll reveal an olrox backstory that's completely different to any of that.

... but i know what headcanon i'll be building into at least one of my mizrox fics.

what do you think?

[sylvan-librarian]

RE: Nissa’s Retcon

* * *

About once a month, I get a comment on one of my posts saying something along these lines

“Uhhh, you left out the part where Nissa was a fascist!”

“Nissa was more interesting as an elf-supremacist, imo.”

To be perfectly frank, I think both of these points are stupid and not worth my time, but just to give these posters the benefit of the doubt, I’ll assume they mean well and respond to them, once and for all, this way:

To address the first point, you’re right: in my posts celebrating Nissa and the journeys she has taken, I do tend to leave out material that was retconned. This isn’t entirely true, however, as I wrote an entire essay about this on my Tumblr page, which I doubt people slipping into my comments to post “gotcha!” have bothered to read. But anyway, to assume the best of these posters, let’s take a brief look at this retcon. Outside of a few brief blurbs in the “Duels of the Planeswalkers” video game and her 2009-era character description on Magic’s website, the “racist Nissa” characterization comes entirely from the In the Teeth of Akoum novel from 2010. And yes! In this book, Nissa is a hilariously stupid racist (frighteningly like real racists, imo). However, many aspects of this book were retconned in Nissa’s Magic Origins reboot. To note, in the 2010 novel, Nissa has no idea what the fuck Akoum even is and lets herself get led there by Sorin and Anowon. In the reboot, we learn that, among many other changes, she went to Akoum previously in her life, as that journey is what led to her sparking. Either way, post-Origins, many aspects of Teeth are questionably accurate at best. It’s quite safe to assume that with how horrified Nissa is when she sees Lorwyn elves hunting goblin children for sport that that particular aspect of Nissa’s personality (white supremacy) is no longer a part of her characterization.

For the second point, this one is just crazy, man. I don’t know y’all come up with this stuff. I don’t even know how to address this politely. Keep in mind that I am not by any stretch saying that Nissa is now a perfect cinnamon roll that never did anything wrong ever. Nissa is at fault for not trusting Sorin and setting the Eldrazi free. This is a decision that forever will, and should, haunt her. In the newer lore, she still distrusts vampires and outsiders in her youth because of how she was raised, and this is wrong of her. But Nissa does not distrust them because she thinks she is somehow morally superior to them by nature of birth. Nissa was raised as a member of the Joraga nation. The Joraga, as even the most basic of searches into the Magic wiki tells us, “eschewed outsiders and held even the other elves of Zendikar in disdain.” Nissa carries this distrust of outsiders with her into her adult life and doesn’t really learn to let go of this until she meets the Gatewatch and learns to expand her horizons. And again, Nissa was wrong for this xenophobia. But don’t get it twisted: there is still a big difference between fear and distrust of outsiders and fascist, ‘hierarchy of races’ bullshit. Both are rooted in fear, but for all her many shortcomings, the retconned Nissa of the new lore would never advocate for elves ruling the multiverse at the top of a racial hierarchy like the older Nissa would (and did). This is hammered home in her Origin story where she is horrified by watching Dwynen lead other Lorwyn elves as they slaughter entire tribes because they think it's funny. Furthermore, on the subject of Lorwyn elves, I would argue that old Nissa is fairly boring as a villain, as “racist elves” as a concept was already explored in depth in the Lorwyn stories. An entire planeswalker with that as her bit would get boring very quickly.

Lastly, and I suppose this is subjective, but isn’t a nuanced character, deeply flawed but trying her best to shed the xenophobia ingrained in her more interesting that an unrepentant, racist dumbass learning that “goblins are people actually!” only after she condemned an entire world to death? The latter might be (darkly) funnier, I’ll give you that, but the former makes for a much more interesting and emotionally satisfying narrative arc.

[atropinenightshade]

Sharp and Dull: An SGE Vampire AU

Chapter One

Gavaldon was the last place for any vampire to visit. 

Gavaldon was an uneventful, drab town most children hated to be in, but never admitted it. Even the adult townspeople made their lives more entertaining by making up tales of witches lurking the streets, or demons running wild through the night.

Some hoped that maybe Gavaldon used to host fairies and all sorts of magical creatures before the Elders came. It was highly unlikely.

Despite their dissatisfaction, no citizen made any effort to move away or have a chance at a better life. To stand out.

Eventually, one particular child publicly displayed his apathy, provoking the attention of the teachers and authorities. He was named Midas, which filled some of the townspeople with an eerie feeling. His parents, after all, had a suspicious history. His father's mother was an avid devotee of the very Catholicism the Elders almost completely prohibited in the town. They favored their own interpretation of God's Word and shut down the ideas of anyone else. Midas’ own mother was not a zealous believer by any means and was a convert when she was first seen by the people newly married. Nobody really cared to know her, or trust her. She was a stranger, which was synonymous with an untrustworthy person.

Midas would constantly miss school and swim or sit by the cove, far away from the others. His behavior worsened after the disappearance of his mother, rumored to be caused by witchcraft. Even the former parish priest was questioned, perhaps causing mischief with his “cannibalistic devil worship” as the Elders liked to call the Catholic Mass, which was forbidden to be said and which led to the eventual dilapidation of the town church.

As he grew into adulthood, his rebellion and solitary behavior continued. He also earned the reputation as the surly, materialistic young man who hung around the cove with a snake following him around. He resigned all the jobs he ever had, content to run a business consisting of selling various methods of cheating on tests, reselling goods purchased with stolen money, and even “loans” with his own high interest rates. And for some strange reason, every place he left had some trace of gold that wasn't present before.

Whenever he was bored, even as a child, he'd rifle through the books his parents kept, mostly purchased at the local bookshop or inherited by family. His mother was quite the fanatic of the fairy tales that often arrived at Gavaldon. Midas also found the old Bible and the Lives of the Saints, presumably owned by his father. Secretly, of course.

Sometimes, little Midas stumbled across other literature. Oftentimes, in the nearby bookshop and not necessarily in his family's collection.

His father never really liked his son to know too much, because “too much” was food for the predator– the group of Elders that ruled Gavaldon with an iron fist. Therefore, he was weary of his son's strange isolating habits that stirred too much talk. 

One of the things Midas found out for himself were certain creatures that caused panic in the town and whom his father was trained to hunt down. Other than witches.

Whisperers uttered terms like “night creatures,” which were simply nice ways to refer to vampires.

Midas couldn't say he was afraid. He himself was a monster. His father said so. He couldn't fear his own kind. If anything, Midas could scramble for holy water, or a wooden stake. Maybe he could even use an axe from another citizen to behead the damn things. Sometimes, he'd even wait in the forest at night, hoping to find something to take home and earn a lucrative reward. Vampire hunters made decent money, and his father could have been well off had he handled his finances better. Midas could never make it his profession, as the Elders had to approve of him and his moral character, but a few instances of taking initiative couldn't hurt. 

He could have sworn there were occasions where his former classmate Arabella claimed to find one in her bedroom and times where he heard rustling in the leaves, with a blurred figure rushing away. One with green eyes, she claimed. 

After all, if magical fish that made Midas cursed existed, why couldn't these villainous bloodsuckers?

Which led to another thing he discovered: the origin of his curse. His mother told him she blessed him with magic by making a wish and consuming these strange eggs when he was still an unborn child. She had hoped he would be rich and bring prosperity to the family. She wanted the town to be transformed through his magic.

Look where that took all of them. She wasn't even here anymore. And there were a few occasions he had some visits from the Elders.

Midas placed his palm on a rock near the cove and watched it slowly turn to gold. He wondered if it would attract anything like a fairy or a goblin. He hoped they wouldn't get burned and sent to Hell by the Elders, if they did come.

He felt something cold slither past his feet. Midas smiled slightly. Bongo, his snake, was enjoying himself today. He remembered the day he found him and brought him home, begging his father to keep him.

“They'll say you're influenced by the devil,” he scolded. “They'll find a reason– any reason– to punish someone. And you've given enough cause to raise suspicion!”

“I don't see why a harmless outdoor snake is demonic,” Midas replied, rolling his eyes. He never liked telling his dad anything, because he always stuck to his fearful, overprotective ways and his stupid rules. His father didn’t exactly agree with everything the Elders said, but he kept his head down and behaved like a whipped little dog. Midas never admired that. 

“They'll mention that Eve was tempted by a serpent, for one.”

“A figurative serpent that talked! It isn’t my problem that the Elders are steeped in utter ignorance. Besides, what right do they have to talk about Scripture when they banished your mother’s?” 

His father clammed up at that moment, looking away.

“See? Nothing to say. So I'll keep Bongo with me, whether anyone likes it or not. And if the Elders raise Hell about it, I'll return the flames.”

“What am I going to do with you?” 

That was his father's favorite line. The memory wasn't the only time he said those words.

Sometimes, Midas admittedly wondered the same thing about himself. There was really nothing for him here. The Elders distrusted anything that was too closely related to increasing wealth, insisting that money was a temptation to sin… while remaining silent on the economic status of their favorite citizens. And his mother was gone. For some sick reason of God's, his father was left behind with Midas.

Midas didn't see himself as intellectual enough to earn himself a teaching job, at least nothing shown in the school around his area. He was awful at playing musical instruments and not necessarily a stellar singer, even making his music instructor cry– of pain. No job in this place felt promising. The interest rates of Gavaldon's banks were too low to gain anything of worth from a deposit. It was laughable to think the small shop owners, who were barely scraping by, would allow other citizens to hold shares in their business. All Midas had was his cursed way of making money and the somewhat dishonest way. And the occasional pickpocketing activity.

Occasionally only because his father had a fit after he saw Midas’ new boots once and knew that it couldn't possibly be bought with money that belonged to either of them. He ignored the fact he spent most of the money he earned from working as a hunter. On what, Midas could only guess. He did recall it was a slight grievance his mother had against her husband.

Midas’ father prohibited him from going to any city, even the one his mother had come from– that life never ended well for anybody, he claimed.

And so Midas was stuck with his cove, his snake, and his books. And his “business.”

Even the vampires have a better life than I do, he mused, with all their manors and elegance.

“Mrs. Sattursby was furious today!” a girl’s voice said. Midas tensed.“I don't blame you for playing hooky years ago. You must have hated that awful woman. I arrived late again.You're lucky your dad let you escape this hell. Mom made me repeat the year!”

Arabella. The classmate he distantly knew. Both of them had failed their last year for attendance issues. His father had given up on him and it wasn't like they had any useful form of higher education for him to worry about his aimless son. 

“I went to Miss Harissa’s bookshop again. Had something like that.” She pointed at a black and red leatherbound book about vampires. “The Elders are worried about it. I don’t blame them. I swore I saw one. He promised to come and get me, but he never returned back. Pity, because my mother didn't believe me.”

 “Careful. The Elders might burn you and your mother because they may believe you both somehow summoned the creature” Midas responded dryly. “Which test did you need help with this time, Arabella?”

She grinned, her smile lighting up her dark eyes. She brought him a sack of coins she probably pilfered from her mother. “There’s fifty in here.”

Midas nodded approvingly. “Not bad.”

“I need answers for some stupid history test.”

Midas sighed, opening one book that revealed a paper with neat penmanship. He handed it to her. “You can leave now.”

She ran off, gleeful. Midas smiled a little himself.

Before he was left too much alone in his thoughts, he decided to return home. He couldn’t afford to hear another endless rant about his absence. As he left, stepping away from the cove, he tripped on something. 

“I should've gotten this blasted axe out of the way sooner,” he grumbled, putting it near the cove. Maybe he could use it for his own purposes. Midas did plan to come back here later at night, when his father was away, hunting and not around to act as a guard dog at home. Terrence usually liked doing business at late hours, after all.

Note: So this is more description and background based than dialogue or action as of now. And yes, I'm testing the waters of Tumblr fic again, especially since I'm too tired to make a whole AO3 fic right now. I think maybe I misjudged tumblr so I'll see. Forgive the bad title. And hopefully, I can get the second chapter quick enough, since that has more action and introduces the vampires!

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - Lesbians WIN & I'm excited about a Thai BL again!

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

April 2024 Wk 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

My Stand-In (Thai Fri iQIYI) ep 1 of 12 eps - Adaptation of Chinese novel Professional Body Double by Shui Qiang Cheng. Stars Up (Lovely Writer) and Poom (Bake Me Please) directed by the same team as KP (not a recommendation IMHO - my biggest criticism of KP was the clashing directing styles). The MDL description made it sound complicated af but actually it's not so bad. In fact it's GOOD.

Stuntman Joe dies on the job and wakes up in the body of another Joe who has an entirely different life. But our Joe just gets his new body right back into his old existence, full of friends, enemies, and one troublesome ex. Poom is absolutely killing it in the lead. Mek is perfectly cast as the Actor du Jerk. I’m not sold on Up’s bratty brokenhearted rich kid... yet. The show though, I like it. I like a one (two) night stand starting things off and I like a lot of morally gray characters. Fun fun!

Deep Night (Thurs iQiyi) ep 8fin - The lesbian moms are the cutest thing in the world and my favorite thing this week. Bar none.

Summation:

It's about a host club and all the gay boys in it and some stuff that's not important because... PEOPLE OF EARTH WE HAVE A HONEST REP OF POLY IN A BL. Stand up and raise your hands in prayer to the Thai BL gods because sure as shit no one else was ever going to give this to us. For that alone this show gets 8/10 from me. Bonus Lesbian moms and great kisses.

Two Worlds (Thurs iQIYI) ep 7 of 10 - Say what you want about MaxNat all these years that they've been paired makes them great onscreen boyfriends. And you know me, I'm a total sucker for linguistic negotiation. Makes my heart go all mushy. That said, now that the leads are together, I’m really uninterested in all the drama around the ex-boyfriend/triangle. I'm glad this is only 10 eps.

1000 Years Old (Thurs iQIYI) ep 11 of 12 - They gave me the tiniest teaser for the kinky vampire BL that I have wanted my whole life. And now I'm just fucking annoyed with the rest of the show. 

We Are (Weds iQIYI) ep 3-4 of 16 - Q & Toey are the only interesting thing going on. I actually didn’t like this pair in My School President, but I’m enjoying them here. The others are all fine but these two have my heart. I have questions like: did Phum ever get his shopping bags back? And why is Phum driving a different colored car half way through the ep?

Only Boo! (Sun YouTube) ep 3 of 12 - The quality is good (it’s GMMTV) but the acting is... not. Still I loved that Moo just made the confession for both of them. Very in character. Does this plot remind anyone else of Footloose? Just me? Side couple was cute but now a bit too stalker for me. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Unknown (Taiwan Tues YouTube & Viki) ep 10 of 12 - It’s fantastic. Such a great show. We are so lucky. This is basically Taiwan’s The Eights Sense. I didn’t know they had it in them, but I’m really glad that they did.

Living With Him AKA Kare no Iru Seikatsu (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 3 of 10 - As JBL’s go this is way more my speed (than Alaska). It’s just so sweet and awkward but charming about it. The confession was so earnest. 

Blue Boys (Korea YouTube) 2 of ? No MDL link - It’s very sexy this one. Not sure what Korea thinks it's doing, but I’m not mad about it. 

Gray Shelter (Korea Thurs iQIYI) ep 5fin - summation: About a slacker nursing a crush on the (brief) older stepbrother who abandoned him. Upon finding him again he moves in with him, upends the mans lost suffering life. A dark gritty piece with confusing subs making it too chewy to really grok. It's trying to do too much for its length. The tension is real and the acting is good, it's just everything else stymied clean execution of the core concept. Frankly I spent this show expecting (and wanting them) to just fall into bed together - in a kind of desperate fight sex. It didn’t happen, and I’m disappointed by the non-ending we got. (Whether it’s going to have more in the series or not.) 7/10 I'm open to changing the rank if a part two fixes this one's flaws.

Boys Be Brave AKA Roommates (Korea Thurs Viki) ep 1-2 of 8 - Oh dear. Terrible hair. Jock nerd pairing. OCD baby cakes. Cohabitation trope. Killer side couple. Def unhinged. 

At 25:00 in Alaska AKA 25 Ji Akasaka de (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 2 of 10 - I’m still genuinely not sure about this one. It’s just a little too awkward for me in the wrong way. I expect all Japanese BL to have a certain aura of awkwardness so I don’t know what it is about this one turnign me off. I do enjoy that we’re getting both stories, the one between the actors, and a little bit of the roles that they’re playing on screen but... yeah

Love is like a Cat (Korea Mon Viki) eps 7-8 of 12 - The leads finally had a moment but there is negative chemistry. Why am I watching this? 

It's airing but...

Lady Boy Friends (Thai WeTV grey) 16 eps - reminds me a bit too much of Diary of Tootsies only high school. Not my thing. DNF unless it turns a corner and is truly amazing.

Memory in the Letter (Thai WeTV) - 6 eps, when it's done, tell me if I should bother?

In case you missed it

Kiseki Chapter 2 (Sun iQIYI) 6 eps - finished its run but I won't be finishing it. Stays dropped.

GMMTV announced the second half of their 2024 line up. I got excited and picked my favorites, details + trailers here. Basically my ranking is:

The Heart Killers

ThamePo

Revamp

Sweet Tooth

Perfect 10 Liners

The Ex-Morning

Ossan’s Love Thailand

Next Week Looks Like This:

What happened?

Knock-Knock Boys (Thai WeTV) - 4 college friends conspire to help their friend lose his virginity. Familiar faces like Seng (yes, Billy's previous pairing) and Best, news here. But will it actually air this month?

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENT

I have adopted him. He is MINE. I love him, your honor. (The Stand In)

I love them SO MUCH. (Deep Night)

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire

If ya wanna be tagged each week leave a comment and I will add you to the template. Easy peesy.

[aquilaofarkham]

Do u have any ideas for wat could happen with mizrak now that he's a vampire?

oh man i'll try to at least give some cohesive answers as best i can bc i'm very sick atm and my brain does not want to cooperate (also i realize something new about mizrak and olrox almost every day lol) but here's SOME possibilities:

obviously becoming a vampire doesn't make you inherently evil, it just seems to amplify certain emotions and desires to the enth degree. there's still some darkness there as we saw with tera, but she still loved maria immensely and wanted what was best for her which is why she made the decision to leave her for the time being. same thing with drolta like she was entirely devoted to sekhmet then once she became a vampire, that need to bring her back got taken to new extremes. i think one thing that will happen to mizrak as a vampire (something that already got hinted at during *the scene*) is him finally acting on his formerly repressed desires since he doesn't need to feel guilt or shame over them

one of his main hang-ups over olrox and vampires as a whole was how he believed they didn't have souls. however over the course of season 2 that belief starts to dissipate (first in horror over drolta's return as a night creature since night creatures require souls, then in a very subtle but still sweet revelation that olrox does actually have a soul). so mizrak becoming a vampire while still experiencing those same feelings of love, compassion, and maybe even some lingering guilt might serve as his final wake up call

of course he and olrox are not gonna be ok at first. olrox clearly didn't plan on turning mizrak and i think part of him knew that mizrak would probably resent him for it despite having saved him from hell (and to an extent old man coyote). they might even fight a lot especially over olrox supposedly being selfish for turning him (which i don't think he was entirely but again there's a lot more complexities and nuance to that decision). then olrox might fire back at mizrak for him still holding some hypocrisies. but with a combination of time, patience, and olrox being a genuinely caring maker (plus a lot of sex with biting and blood drinking who said that i didn't say that) i think mizrak might come to realize that they can have a life together and he doesn't have to sacrifice his morals or what he believes in. we can assume that olrox's previous lover didn't so he probably won't either

i don't think mizrak will give up on his faith entirely BUT i think he'll probably question or examine it more closely than before. also the concept of a vampire who still believes and prays to god is the sickest thing ever

i'm sure i'm forgetting a lot more personal theories but i'm gonna go lie down now _(´ཀ`」∠) _ thanks for asking!!

[phyrestartr]

Vampire | Miguel x M!Reader

Vampire!Miguel x Reader W/C: 5.9k

#NSFW, vampires, blood, gore, violence, bottom!reader, top!Miguel, mentions of sex work, mentions of assault, it's kinda cute idk, posessive behaviour, questionable relationship, reader is morally grey, reader is lowkey a criminal though lol, Johnny Blaze = Nic Cage 5ever sorry not sorry

Note: I FINISHED IT! Lost steam with editing so some bits may be kinda weird and word-y, but I really enjoyed writing this honestly :clap: ty guys for voting for me to finish this o(--( I actually finished it so quickly wtf--

--

Vampires. Blood-sucking, man-killing, devil-calling creatures. Many feared them, even now, even after the legends of Dracula faded into obscurity and out of the minds of mortal men. But there were some who kept weary watch on the old castle looming before your meager town: older folks, the ones with bleached scars and haunted voices, with quivering hands and a phobia of the dark. 

You thought they all spun tales, convinced themselves of a time that never happened thanks to whatever their parents hushedly told them come the waning of the sun. “Don't leave the house after dark,” “be wary of the man you know not,” “pray to God for his protection,” is what you figured they'd been told. You couldn't blame them. Not really. Mass hysteria, mass lies told to the young had a penchant for warping their minds, destroying their futures. 

But still, you'd listen. Face alight with a smile, one ear turned their way as you poured drinks for whatever patron came bumbling your way that night. There was one man, one who claimed to have been touched by the devil himself, momentarily transformed into something wicked and unholy, who frequented the establishment. 

“Come on now, Johnny,” you chided with a laugh, “you don't really believe all that rubbish. Touched by the devil? You Americans really are the dramatic sort, aren't you?” 

“You don't need to believe all of it,” Johnny said mildly. “You just need to believe a sliver of it. It'll do you some good. Keep you safe.” 

You smiled to yourself as you busily made a drink for a new customer. “Yeah? Keep me safe from what, exactly?” Your eyes met his, then, and you found your blood stood in place for a moment. 

“You know what.” The devil. He'd said it too many times to count without uttering his name. “Just be smart.”

“I'm always smart,” you said with a phony laugh, the sort you used to lull women and men into some cheap sense of comfort. 

“Smart people do dumb things, too.” He took a swig of his drink before peering down at the amber pooling against crystal. “Like sneaking around old, unhallowed castles.” 

You pursed your lips. “I'm just curious, old man, you don't need to worry. I've not been inside, yeah? Just looked ‘round the outside of the old place.” That's probably filled with loads of goods. 

But Johnny only stared at you, calculating, thinking. It almost unnerved you. 

“Just be careful.” 

And in that moment, a man whose name you didn’t know, but whose body you knew too well, walked into the bar. His shoulders were impossibly broad, his frame unnaturally tall, and from the glimpses you were allowed of his face hidden away under the brim of that hat, you remembered strong lines and proud cheekbones. His eyes, a bizarre colour, always glimmered ruby in the firelight thanks to some strange disease you never quite remembered the name of, and his hair, a dark oaken hue, wisped like tendrils of shadow rolling off his strong neck. 

He didn’t look at you, but you couldn’t look away. Your gaze followed him to where he found a quiet seat off to the side by a small table. He wouldn’t order anything. He never did. He only ever waited for your shift to end. 

“Kid?” Johnny prodded, freeing you from your momentary curse.

You blinked and sputtered, nodding in earnest to whatever Johnny had said. “I–right. Careful. I’m always careful.” 

–

Just be careful.

But that was impossible with this otherworldly spirit around you, waiting for you every other night just for the sake of bedding you, and leaving before morning with nothing but a stack of bills (or sometimes some jewelry, if you were lucky) to remember him by. Your favourite client by far. Your only client, per his request.

Your fists twisted into the bedsheets as you gasped with every brutal crashing of the man’s hips against yours as he took you from behind. He was in a bad mood tonight, it seemed. Normally, he liked to take it slow, he liked to savour his meal, but for some reason–

His hand clasped over your mouth when his teeth tore into your neck again. The cry that left you was hoarse and tired, but not so surprised, no; the man had his kinks, and one just so happened to be biting. He did quite the number on you, too, always breaking skin and leaving scars and scabs in his wake. But it felt good. It felt right to be claimed. The greedy, ugly little part of your heart wanted people to know you were taken and owned by this strange, captivating man.

“Fuck, I–” You buried your face into the mattress as another orgasm hit, striking your dull nerves like hammer on hot iron thrust after thrust. Soon enough, you felt his body stutter against yours just before an uncanny, liquid gold filled your guts and seeped into your core–he was finally done. Finally. Though part of you wished it didn’t have to end. 

His teeth, the pointed, feral things, dislodged from your neck before he ran the flat of his tongue against the weeping wound. Somehow, that always staunched the bleeding. You didn’t quite understand it, but you weren’t exactly well-versed in medicine.

“Tired already?” He mocked in that smokey, American accent. “Thought the young had more than that to offer.” The purr of his voice soothed the pulsing start of a headache as you came down from your high. Yet another strange effect he had on you. 

You took a good handful of moments to catch your breath before you tried to hazard an answer. “I’m–you’re in some kind of mood, darling; can’t blame me for your brutality.” You turned your head to rest your cheek against the scratchy sheets, and the beast took the opportunity to leave nips and kisses along your jaw. 

“Tch. I’m just reminding you who you belong to. Where you belong.” Sharp teeth grazed your skin again, and you shuddered. “No one likes to see theirs fawning over another man.” 

You strained to look back at him. “You–you mean Johnny? He’s not–I wouldn’t let him bed me, are you mad?” A rough push of his hips against yours reprimanded you. “H-He’s a mate, love, that’s all.”

The man twitched. “A mate?” 

“A friend, you bloody idiot.”

He relaxed, but still sought confirmation. “A friend.”

“A friend, indeed. Father-figure, maybe.” With a bit of effort, you managed to wriggle free from the strength of the man pinning you in place, and laid on your back to gaze up at him. “I’m not interested in him, he’s not interested in men, so you needn’t worry a thing.” One of your worn hands reached up and smoothed over the curve of his sharp cheekbone, drawing a pleased hum from the chamber of the beast’s chest. 

“Fine.” He rested his weight on you, and you sighed, content and warmed. But that bony chin digging into your chest was a tad bit fucking irritating. “Then if he’s not trying to fuck you, what makes you listen to him for hours on end, hm?” Hah. Annoyed. Jealous. Quite endearing. 

“He has stories to tell,” you offered. “Words about the devil and the curse of the undead. About Dracula and that old castle.” 

The man’s brows raised in interest. “Oh? And you like ghost stories, is that it? Here I figured I'd be enough to keep your mind entertained,” he said with a taunting smirk, like he thought your suggested belief in those spooky tales was laughable. 

Heat washed over your face. “I–you–shut up, I just like me a good story, is that so wrong? Tch, stupid American.”

He laughed, a sound you adored to hell and back. “I’ll keep it in mind. Might have a few good stories up my sleeve, too.” His head tilted the slightest bit. “Maybe then your eyes won’t wander.”

“Terribly jealous one, aren’t you? I never would’ve guessed it.” You raked your hands through his hair and he sighed, deep and ancient. But your words were true–this man, your mysterious client-turned-lover, he captivated all wherever he traveled. With so many eyes on him, why did he want you to look nowhere else but to him? 

Greedy man. That’s what you decided. He wanted everything and more. 

“Other men don't get to look at what's mine,” he mumbled after a time of you pampering him with pets and scritches. “And you're mine, for the record.” 

“Hm. I quite like the sound of that.” 

“Then marry me.” 

“I'm not sure I can,” you lamented. “I find myself in trouble too often. It puts me on the run, jumping from town to city and back again.” 

“You'd never have to run again if you let me have you.” He picked himself up and loomed over you, brushing his nose against yours as he spoke against your lips. “You'd be safe, cared for, never want for anything. None of those sacks of shit would would lay a finger on you again.” His lips trailed down, brushing against the thick vein in your neck. “I think it's for the best if you agree.” 

You almost argued back, but the large hand engulfing your throat gave you pause. He didn't hurt you, no, but gave you a silent warning. The power that man held over you contradicted his weakness to your wants and desires, and twisted your thoughts into unorganized knots. 

“I'll think on it,” you breathed, not wanting to say yes but unwilling to say no. You didn't want marriage, but commitment was a tantalizing idea. You'd just never thought it'd happen to you. 

His eyes came back to yours again. Your heart fluttered at the glints of carmine shimmering in candle-lit eyes. God, he was beautiful. 

“I better like your answer.” 

–

You left. You hated doing it, you hated running from your problems and whatever seemed to haunt you day to day, but too much happened in too short a time. 

For one, the landlord demanded more and more rent money from you when he noticed your gifted jewelry and newly tailored coat, and then, when you didn't give it to him, he took to trying to get payment another way. You shot him, obviously. 

Which led to your second reason for leaving–you'd shot a man and fled the scene, unknowing if he was alive or not, and uncaring of the outcome, quite frankly. You figured the lowlife would be more pressed about the money than dying, anyway. 

And third, the bar you worked at found out you'd been swindling and stealing on the job, pocketing tips and taking home near-empty bottles to refill with something of your own design to sell on the streets. Admittedly, it was fine work, but you'd long abandoned that method of money-making once that stranger wandered into your life and offered you more cash than you could imagine.

But you liked that bar. You liked those patrons. No strings attached.

And that's why you were back. Not with the intention to stay, no; you were back to scout out the castle after getting confirmation from some university lads about how valuable the old place was. You figured you could find enough in there with the scoundrels you'd come with, and maybe you could pay the old owner back before leaving for good. 

You'd never have to run again if you'd let me have you. 

Maybe you should've just said yes.

– 

The castle stood beautifully, even with the screams of the slaughtered ringing through the halls. It was big, too, eagerly letting you get lost in its enchanting halls and inviting rooms as you tried in vain to remember the way out. 

That's when you crashed into one of the uni snobs you'd come with, Harry. He was a mess, clothes and hair out of place for once, with a spray of sticky blood coating his face and white shirt. Osborn must've seen their tormentor. 

He grabbed your shoulders as you grabbed his arms. “We have to go, we have to go–” he chanted, pulling and pushing you in undecided directions. 

“Osborn, where did you see it? Where–” Another scream gave you a hint. Your eyes snapped down the hallway, staring deep into the torchlit halls and finding nothing but the unknown staring back. 

Then, there were footsteps. Slow, methodical things that rung to a tune hidden in your memories.

“We have to go,” you whispered, like that'd help. “Osborn, we have to–” a splitting pain electrocuted your senses and sent you stumbling backwards. The world spun. Your head ached. Funeral bells shrieked. Worst of all, that dress shirt and that fancy jacket you loved so much were stained suddenly, a foul colour of darkness that reeked of pennies and iron. It took you too long to look back to the student, and to see the smoking pistol held out in his shaky hand. 

“I had to,” Osborn whispered, so, so haunted. “I had to. You understand.” And quite frankly, you did understand; wounding a lamb to leave behind for a wolf to indulge in was a sure way to let a farmer escape. 

Harry took off. You grasped your stomach and leaned hard against the wall, trying to pull yourself together to make some kind of run for it before those languid steps found you and cut your story short. But you felt so tired, so dizzy. The red weeping under your hand and the bewildered pants leaving you left you colder and colder. You wondered if Osborn had shot himself in the foot with this one (hah), killing the sacrificial lamb, rendering it useless to what was believed to be a vampire of all things. They devoured the living, not the dead. 

Clack, clack, clack. The haunting echo of fine shoes on wooden slats passed you by, then vanished all together. You collapsed to your knees and heaved in the burning air just as a deafening screech ricocheted through the halls with the echo of frantic gunfire, and the slosh of viscera. You fought back the burn of bile in your throat when you braved a look; there laid a body on the floor, and a corpse standing above it, illuminated just barely by torchlight. 

His shoulders were impossibly broad, his frame unnaturally tall–

“We could have avoided all of this,” the creature growled. 

–from the glimpses you were allowed of his face hidden in the swath of darkness around him, you remembered strong lines and proud cheekbones–

“But you didn’t listen.”

–his eyes, a bizarre colour, glimmered ruby in the firelight thanks to some strange disease you never quite remembered the name of– 

“Why couldn’t you just listen?”

–and his hair, a dark oaken hue, wisped like tendrils of shadows rolling off his strong neck.

He appeared beside you so suddenly, so soundlessly, you wouldn’t have known he approached if it weren’t for the strength of your fluttering eyelids seeking the truth. You stared hard at the tips of his leather shoes. Perhaps you should’ve known it was him all along. Perhaps you had known. 

He knelt before you and forced your chin up, making your eyes meet his as he stared down through you. Blood marred his face, matching the wine-red hue of his furious, gem-cut eyes; even like this, teeth bared, about to kill you, he was beautiful. 

“Look what you’ve done. This is your fault–”

But that beauty was wasted on such a foul-mouthed monster. 

“My fault?” You spat. “Fuck you.” You tore your chin from his grip, but his hand sought out your throat instead. “Don’t fucking touch me–”

He smiled, bitter but so wholly and infuriatingly amused before he chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll do whatever I want with you.” And before you could lash out, before you could throw a fist at his stupid face, he yanked you in and bit.

A winter breeze rippled through you. Cold. Piercing. And you gradually froze like water dripping from the gutters, no longer able to fight back, too sluggishly slow to do anything about your fate. You breathed hard, feeling the hole in your stomach and ache of your heart weep and worsen with every shattering breath you took. Your hands, gentle in their weakness, pawed at his chest and sought a spot to dig in and hold on to for dear life as the waking world turned its back to you.

But despite the bitterness, and despite words exchanged, he held the side of your face as you faded in and out of consciousness. He called something, and a flurry of orange wisps appeared above you. 

–

You awoke to the echoes of a dream, one you hadn’t had for a while. A cloudless night where you’d been caught in bed by a taken woman’s man and beaten half to death; in return, you shredded through the man's chest with a knife from the kitchen while the wife watched on in silence. You'd been ready to kill her, too, slit her throat in one easy motion, but she never screamed, never looked at the wild animal with fear. 

Tell the police he attacked you, miss. 

Well, it wouldn't be the first time.

You fumbled through the alleys after leaving the scene, but others, foul things that roamed the streets where not even rats lingered, found you, threatened to use up the last of what you had to offer this pitiful world. It seemed as though they disappeared in the time it took you to blink, though, and a man was left, standing in their wake. He looked somewhat disheveled, like he’d just finished some grand task, but he was just so put together, too. You struggled to make sense of it, but you didn’t really care to. 

“Well, isn't that impressive,” you said with a breathless laugh. “Not a shred of blood on you. Are you the ripper the paper’s gone on and on about?”

The being glanced over his shoulder, eyes alight in curious mirth. He turned your way and stepped closer. You saw it then, the slightest bit of dark smears on his face.

“Is that what they're calling me?” He adjusted his cuffs, and rolled his shoulders. “Huh.” 

Adrenaline poured into your heart. “You're quite the dangerous man, aren't you, sir?” you swallowed thickly as you looked him over: fine shoes, expensive coat, luxurious rings. “And, ah, well-off. You wouldn't happen to be interested in spreading the wealth, hm?” 

His hand cupped your jaw, sticky with freezing blood, and he leaned in. The pungent scent of iron curled your gut as he breathed you in, making up his mind with what to do with you. Then, with the dry, warm back of his gloved hand, he caressed the side of your face and watched your eyelids flutter, devouring the simple gesture. 

“Let's see if you can convince me to.”

-

“I know you’re awake,” he mumbled.

Curiosity willed your eyes open, and you gazed down at the hollow tube connecting you to the walking corpse. You fought to ease the jump of your heart, but it became impossible when a dark red raced from the vampire's arm down into yours. 

“Is that going to make me like you?” You whispered, nerves twitching and burning with the bite of restless fire ants. 

Crimson eyes found yours and looked deep. “It won't. You can relax.” But you weren't convinced, and your lover could tell. “You'd have to drink my blood.” 

“Why're you giving me your blood, then?” 

“You'll die without it.” He pumped something, you now noticed, and realized it was what drew the blood from his veins and drained it into yours. 

Curious. “Were you a man of medicine?” 

He scoffed. “Still am.” He threw you a wary look, one brow raised. “How many more questions are you–” 

“Your name?” That was something you'd requested before, but always through a veil of uncertainty. You didn't like to ask much of him. He didn't ask much of you. But you didn't know him, yet he knew you. 

Your vampire frowned, unapproving. “What difference will it make?” 

“You asked me to fucking marry you,” you bit out. “And yet you keep so many secrets from me, still. I've given you more than I have, and you can't even–” 

“Miguel.” You both paused–him to gauge your reaction, and you out of shock. “Miguel O'hara.” 

The cracks in your chest mended, just slightly. Miguel O'hara. What a name that was. Formidable and wholly suiting the beast of a man you'd known and craved for far too many years. 

“Miguel O'hara,” you whispered, staring tiredly at the red thread connecting the two of you. The name felt good on your tongue. 

Nothing more was said, then. He must've still felt the tension in the air, or maybe the coil of apprehension in your body, for he worked on in silence, quietly saving your life for no reason. 

It was when he pulled free the needle that you found the will to break the silence on your own. 

“Why didn't you tell me?” It came out a pathetic whisper, sounding as broken as your mind felt. 

He paused before pulling the needle from his own arm. “Tell you what?” 

It was a good question. You didn't know what to ask him to elaborate on. You didn't know if you wanted him to elaborate on anything, actually, because it'd make it too real, too tangible. 

“Everything.” And when he stayed silent, you narrowed it down to just, “all of…you.” 

Miguel licked his thumb and stroked it soothingly against the pinprick of a wound while his brows furrowed and his lips twisted into something of a frown. “How could I?” You both watched the tiny dot of red cease weeping. “If you'd moved on and you knew, it could put everything at risk.” 

If I'd moved on. It felt wrong. It felt uncomfortable to know he felt that somewhere between his ribs and his heart. And for how long? How long had he not trusted you? Did he even trust you in that moment, knowing what and who he truly was? Or were you now doomed to this castle just as he was? 

“I'll let you rest,” Miguel said as he clasped his medical case shut and stood. “Lyla'll bring you food.” 

Thump, thump, thump, echoed his footsteps, those fine shoes muffled by old carpet; but the sharp clack, clack, clack in the hollow echoes of your memories, just before the truth revealed itself to you, swallowed up your thoughts.

“(Name),” Miguel said, and your eyes opened to find the tall, proud back of his silhouette stood at the door, one hand clutching the knob. “Don’t leave this room.” 

And he left you there, heart aching, mind melting, soul shattering. 

–

Solitude reminded you of what else happened. The lads you'd come here with, nothing more than acquaintances, were missing, or perhaps dead. It ate at your mind. Could you have done something different? Could you have convinced him to let them go?

More importantly, would Miguel let you leave? He claimed he wanted to marry you, but words were just words if not put to use with actions. Staying by his side would mean stomaching the fact he'd consume countless other people, wouldn't it? How were you expected to watch your partner(?), your groom-to-be(?), hold and pierce others the way he promised to you and only you?

But could you let him stay here alone, hunted and hated by believers, laughed at by the average skeptic? If you were not here, how many more would walk in on a dare, and meet a terrible end? They didn’t matter, no, but the legend of a vampire would turn more and more true, summoning devil-hunters to his doorstep, stake and flames in-hand.

The thoughts plagued you, filling your head with the terrible buzzing of bees. You couldn't fathom why you cared so much; most of your life you'd lived for your own sake, doing what needed to be done to get by, to have a better tomorrow. You hated other people. A few of them you'd personally buried six feet under, whether they were dead or lived still, and you never batted an eye. You had no patience for those who'd oppose you. 

You would have killed Osborn yourself if O’hara hadn't. And that was the truth. That'd been the truth the whole time, ever since you saw just how expensively he and the others lived; gold dripped from their tongues, silver ran through their veins, diamonds fell from their eyes. You wanted to claim a bit of that for yourself. 

And Miguel had shared his wealth with you, just in exchange for a bit of blood and your body for the night. Surely you could look past what he did to survive, even if it put your heart into a spiral. 

Lost in thought, you found your way to his chambers, freely disobeying his orders

He lounged in a clawfoot bath. Stuffy heat lulled you into a daze, something like a carefree summer evening wherein the sun took too long to vanish. Though when he noticed you approach, shedding clothes the entire way, the heat grew near unbearable.

Miguel's claws creaked against the enamel in anticipation when you stepped into the water. You watched him with the same delicate intrigue as prey investigating something that could be a threat as you found your place between his spread legs, getting close enough to feel the pounding of his undead heart. You'd only seen his body in dim candlelight or withering rays of the moon, never truly illuminated by the glow of floating chandeliers nor the collection of sconces arching from the wall.

Slowly, your fingertips dragged along muscle, warm and firm under your calloused touch. The scars littering your hands and knuckles shone so stark against his perfect complexion. He really did seem too perfect. It would have sparked jealousy in your gut if he didn't apparently belong to you, and you to him. No one else got to touch. No one else got to see. 

Now, you were built finely yourself, but the man before you was something entirely different. You didn't know if it was thanks to his supernatural existence, but his body was built in a near-animalistic way that screamed power and speed, not similar enough to a human. Though, looking back, you did always think his manners in bed were more beast than man. The growling, the clawing, the marks of claim on the nape of your neck, it all clicked and made sense in the whirlwind of your mind. 

“I think a werewolf would suit you better,” you admitted. “What with the claws and biting and general uncouth behaviour.” 

Miguel huffed. “You must be talking about yourself.” His voice rang low and quiet, too aware he might scare off his prized hare if he put too much into his words. “You're the one acting like a rabid animal.” 

“No, you.” 

“Don't think so.” 

“You're difficult.” 

“You're one to talk.” 

“How long have you been like this?” Your fingers combed through his hair, and his eyes fluttered shut. “A vampire. Or whatever you are.” 

“Lost track,” he said, sounding too honest. “I have records. Notes. From experiments. The dates on those are close to when it happened.” Experiments? Colour you intrigued.

“So you weren't exactly practicing white medicine?” You tilted your head in thought. “You were doing something more–” 

“It wasn't black magic,” Miguel scoffed. “It was science. Genetics. Studying how other organisms function, learning about them.” His expression darkened just the slightest bit. “Trying to…recreate them.” 

Your head spun a little trying to fill in the blanks. It wasn’t too hard, but it was hard to accept as reality. But if anyone were to unlock the damned secrets of immortality, of course it'd be this man. This cocky, genius, charming man. God really did have favourites, though they always did seem to disappoint him.

“I see. So you're telling me you're a genius who rebirthed vampires,” you summed up, letting your hands melt down his body, below the water's surface. “How is it you only get more and more impressive, Mr.O'hara?” 

A smug smirk bloomed across his lips. “It's just in my nature.” His head tilted back with a pleased sigh when your touch finally landed on that annoying thing prodding your thigh. “I have no choice but to succeed.” 

“Tch. Americans are so arrogant.” You hummed and leaned in, ghosting kisses along his vulnerable neck while your hand pleased him slowly, teasingly. His talons screeched against the tub again. “But maybe you have reason to be, hm? Given how accomplished you are.” 

A dark, scarlet haze like the sky of the blood moon illuminated Miguel's eyes in the few moments they slipped open to catch a glimpse of you. You wondered if he needed a reality check. Maybe he thought he was hallucinating, maybe he thought that you weren't really there despite being pressed up against him and murmuring useless quips into his skin. You'd be sure to leave an impression on him; your hand quickened, gripping tighter and pulling the way he directed you to far too many years ago, but his barbed hand caught your wrist. 

“Stop,” he gasped. His chest rose and fell with his light panting as he stared you down. Want radiated off of him like an animal starved. You knew what was rattling around in his mind before he even spoke. 

“You want to fuck me, is that it?” 

Miguel's breath hitched. 

–

You made him ravenous. You were the only thing he wanted to feast on, delicacies and sanguine temptations be damned. 

One of his large hands held your waist in a death grip while his other hand held your head down, forcing your incoherent ramblings into the soft, silken sheets as he rammed you from behind like a beast in heat. You took it well, too, not that you hadn't before–he always held back, appeared to you as human when he fucked you previously. But now that you knew the truth, now that you knew what lay hidden in the dark nooks of his bones’ marrow, he felt complete. And that meant he could completely lay claim to you, too. 

He matched the curve of your back with his chest when he leaned over you, burying his nose into your neck and shoulder to indulge in your scent. Your vampire's desire to breed slowed and steadied into deep, thoughtful rolls of his hips. Perhaps his mind had caught up with him and ushered him to slow down, to abandon some of that reckless excitement. 

Miguel heard the slightest mumble of his name on your lips and leaned down further to touch his own to your cheekbone. One arm looped underneath your throat in a benign chokehold of sorts, while his other hand threaded through your hair–if he wasn't fucking you like an animal before, this makeshift mating lock he had on you sealed the deal. 

“You feel good,” Miguel murmured, voice tickling the shell of your ear. 

“Hah. I, ah, always feel good,” you tried to quip back, but your expression betrayed the fraying threads of whatever self-control you still desperately clung to. “You’re, uh…unhinged, hey?” Miguel scoffed. “Like a…a wild beast.” 

“Oh?” A purr hummed through his chest, piercing your body and rattling through your own lungs in seismic pulses. “A wild beast? Flattering.”

“Really, darling, you don't have to be such a sarcastic asshole when you're–” a hard snap of his hips sent you spiraling for a moment, “--in my ass.” 

“Maybe you should watch your mouth,” he suggested. 

“Maybe you could watch it for me,” you countered. 

The warmth of his laugh sent chills scattering across your skin. He pulled out of you and turned you over, dragging your hips back against him before his powerful body engulfed yours again. Miguel liked this more. He liked the feeling of your hands grabbing and clawing at him, the way your thighs attached to his waist, how you bit your bottom lip while your eyes screwed shut from the overwhelming feeling of your partner destroying you.

And of course, his lips could meet yours like this. The sweet tang of copper and berries, a taste so familiar and so you, was shared between tongues, kept secret in the crevices of teeth. It amazed Miguel how much one little kiss could push him over the edge and make the bed creak and groan with you as he loved on you and made sure to send the message straight to your core. 

Your hands fisted in his hair when you came undone. That lovely voice of yours poured into Miguel's eager mouth, and you tightened, pulling him to the edge and pushing him over with the might of a wild stampede. Claws nipped your skin, fangs pierced deeper, yet his rutting hit deepest, and burned you alive with unbearable, liquid heat.

–

“Why me?” You asked into the stillness of the room. 

Calm silence answered you for a long moment. The sun bloomed beyond the thick curtains, you noticed in your wait, and you wondered if you would ever miss the sight. England never truly had bright, sunny days from what you recalled; stretches of smokey, grey overcast clouded the skies and your memories more often than not. Could your vampire walk amongst the living like this?

Miguel sighed, leaning into the hand carding through his hair. “Figured you’d understand.” 

“I’d understand what?”

“Killing to survive.” 

“How long have you known?” You wondered, unsurprised. 

“Blood tells stories,” he whispered. Long, dark eyelashes fluttered a moment before crimson eyes peered open the slightest bit. “Your story’s long. Complicated. You’re too young for it.” 

A smile twitched onto your face. You adjusted in the bed, getting more comfortable on your side in those pooling, satin sheets. “So you thought I’d be an easy target for sex, then? Desperate and young as I was.”

He found your eyes, his gaze earnest and bleeding. “I–you–fine, at first it was like you said. Maybe. But after enough time, I decided you weren’t like the rest. You’re as supernatural as I am.”

“Supernaturally handsome? I agree.”

“Stop.”

“You didn’t think I’d be afraid of you.”

“I’d hoped as much.” 

“And you still didn’t tell me.” Your fingertips danced along the arch of his cheekbone, leaving pleasant sparks against his skin in their wake, unbeknownst to you. “Were you scared?”

“I’d rather have you as a man for whatever time we had together than to lose you to a beast,” he explained, cryptic as one would expect an old legend to be. “I’ve lost too much already because of…this. Because of me. I didn’t want to lose more.” Miguel’s dark brows furrowed. “If you ended up fearing me to, I–”

You silenced him with a hand over his mouth. “Enough. I understand.” You palm smoothed back up to cup his face. “You needn’t be afraid of me–well, being afraid, I suppose. I’ll stay.” You took a deep breath and leaned in, pressing your forehead to his. “This bed’s too comfortable to give up, after all.”

His breath fanned against your skin as he chuckled, tired and perhaps tinted with disbelief. “Well, you can stay here as long as you want.”

“Brilliant. Would you even let me drink your blood?”

The rumble of a growl, or perhaps a purr, rolled through his chest into yours. You searched his eyes, wondering, hoping, and found mere slices of ruby peeking out from behind eclipsing pupils. 

“We’ll see.”

[troublemakingrebel]

[magicluckystars]

would i date my ikemen favourites in real life?

I saw a post a WHILE ago that talked about the idea of their favorite characters meeting their parents, and I was procrastinating on work really bored so I decided to do a spin-off of that!! why not?

CW: crack, spoilers for: kenshin's route, ikerev prologue, and some of jonah's route, long post,

I am still a beginner writer so characters may be inaccurate/ooc! constructive feedback and reblogs help <3

---

Chevalier (Ikemen Prince)

-I would have to tell him to tone down the ice prince behaviour. how are you almost 30 and still calling yourself "the brutal beast" 😭

-he's really smart so we won't have an issue with that

-we don't have a lot of common interests though

-the "show me your worth" and "when someone is no longer of use, that's that" is a major turn-off

-he's so tall?? +1 for that

final rating: 3.5/10 okay guy with questionable morals, i wouldn't date him

William (Ikemen Villians)

-again, really tall

-we won't have many issues, this man knows how to talk to people

-he can play piano too?! +2

-decent guy overall, so higher than chev

-final rating: 6/10 we could be friends, but he's not my type

Harrison (Ikemen Villians)

-I don't even have to mention the height, do I...

-the "am i lying or am I telling the truth?" thing would probably get old fast

-but he is the most normal (i mean, as normal as you can get in ikevil) out of all the boys

-he is pretty fun so the lying part doesn't matter

-final rating: 8/10 good partner

Vincent (Ikemen vampire)

-he deserves the world.

-I love sunflowers and you're telling me you PAINT THEM??

-he's friendly and a good person so we would get along fine

-that said he also doesn't have many strong opinions so that would be a bit frustrating and I also cant draw for the life of me

-brush is now my child. no he doesn't get a say in this.

-vincent can be mischevious sometimes though iirc so that's good

-final rating: 5/10 could be friends, but not really good friends

Kenshin (Ikemen Sengoku)

-i'm starting to notice a pattern in this list with the blondies with lore...

-i don't know how we'd even get close in the first place, considering I don't like conflict (and this man loves fighting)

-but he's considerate of MC's emotions in several routes so that's good

-YOU HAVE BUNNIES?? MULTIPLE OF THEM?? marry me rn /j

-he also doesn't seem like the person to like loud people but then again he lives with Yuki and Shingen (and they're chaotic in and of themselves)

-one thing i would definitely have an issue with is when he tries to keep the MC "all to himself" by KIDNAPPING HER. oh absolutely not.

-final rating: 3/10 potentially friends, but would NOT date him

Hideyoshi (Ikemen Sengoku)

-don't like the hostility towards MC in the beginning stages but he gets better towards her so it's fine

-i don't know how i feel about his many female admirers

-he's really kind though and pays attention to details (which I do not) so that's a plus

-i can respect his dedication to nobunaga

-the fact he has a MONKEY as a pet is adorable.

-he's also very justice-aligned, so thats also a plus

-don't really have much to say other than he's a good guy 👍

-final rating 6/10 we could be friends :)

Jonah (Ikemen Revolution)

-i'm sorry trying to arrest the MC as soon as she falls into Cradle is a big no

-he can be super nice but at the same time super insensitive to other people and I don't think I can get past that

-also not a big fan of expensive gifts, especially when we just met

-he likes sweets though and so do I so he at least has one redeeming quality

-not much other things to say here.

-final rating 2/10 i don't see how we would even click in the first place

---

gonna end it off here cause i wanna get it out of my drafts and also to avoid it getting too long

but anyways thanks for reading! if you decide to try this please tag me I wanna read it!

bye for now and see you later <33

[majorasnightmare]

okay so like. mizora

im pretty sure we're in agreement that the conditions for wylls pact were sus as fuck right? like there just happened to be a fully formed cult to tiamat rarin to go right outside baldurs gate mid ritual, and the home of high harper and nosy grandma JAHEIRA didnt notice shit?? nobody saw anything and no one could confirm wylls story despite baldurs gate having an active enough night life to sustain 7 actively hunting vampire spawn for at LEAST 200 years AND a sewer murder cult committing covert assassinations and murder sprees??? with a cult of bane conducting weapons trade deals and the knights of the shield operating a smuggling ring??? the flaming fist didnt even see anything to pointedly ignore??? not a single chickenshit recruit filed a report about observing a dragons head in the night sky with a filed dismissal by a senior officer claiming they probably drank too much. Saitama_Okay.jpg

im personally of the opinion that zariel didnt stage that particular incident but DID utilize agents to provoke tiamats cult into action while also stifling potential witnesses. we know raphael does similar because of his stupid chess themed letters to his own agents, so its not unreasonable to suspect zariel is doing the same. but i think the REAL prize of that particular operation was not the destruction of an active tiamat cult, but instead something more subtle and with a potentially higher payoff: the ear of duke ravengards son. a dragon cult getting annhilated was a bonus, and a convenient call to action besides

mizora, by karlachs admission, was part of zariels personal inner circle (by choice, as devils are ambitious creatures with a drive to climb the ladder). this means that, through mizora, zariel herself took direct personal interest in wyll ravenguard. wyll himself was only 17 years old by this point: he had yet to achieve anything of note and was drifting through noble highborn society as the odd man out, son to a lowborn duke who rised through meritocracy and raised to appreciate the down-to-earth rural pasttimes his father grew up with, like fishing. wyll himself had nothing to offer to a devil besides his heritage; baldurs gate is full enough of self sacrificing do-gooders to keep the harpers regularly staffed, and The Urge regularly sated. for mizora to target wyll specifically makes the most sense if the real target was his connection to the current grand duke of baldur's gate, a city home to a practicing diabolist, several evil cults, and itself has been a hotbed of planar activity thanks to the dead threes meddling for YEARS. that ulder also commands the flaming fist, the gates de facto policing force, is also a point to consider.

this is also reflected in wylls pact, and the terms we experience of it. wyll specifically states that the terms of his pact primarily target the evil, the monstrous, and the heartless. remember, this is BEFORE he was the blade of frontiers. he became a warlock 7 years before the game, but only became the Blade five years prior to the plot. thats a two year gap of being a warlock but not the blade, where his pact STILL primarily targeted monsters. this is. a REALLY weird pact for a devil to offer! like firstly, its overwhelmingly in wylls favor. there is very little wyll does FOR mizora, and the targets she assigns to wyll near exclusively align with his moral code. he sees no reason to doubt mizoras portrayal of karlach, and has to be prompted into sparing her even as he hesitates, because past experience has told him that mizoras targets DO deserve to be slain as judged by HIS beliefs, as indicated by his line of participating in a mummers farce, and him playing his part all too poorly. wylls upset at himself for not thinking to question mizoras target and considering his hunt of karlach to be just. clearly thats because, in every other instance, wyll believed that to be the case!

thats REALLY FUCKIN WEIRD for a devil! like yes mizora gets to take down political rivals using wyll, because wyll knows devils are evil, but. thats a really weird pact to sign in return for destroying a cult mid god summon? like you could extort a LOT more for that and be assured youd get it, cuz its ALL OF BALDURS GATE and the RETURN OF TIAMAT on the line. and it doesnt seem to be a case of poor dealmaking, unlike raphael, whos every deal overwhelmingly reeks of desperation. he'll translate astarions back if you kill yurgir, because he really really really needs you to kill yurgir before he figures out raphael played him and he gets out because of it, and the clock is rapidly ticking down on that because balthazar is already in the temple, interacting with the dark justiciar skeletons, and actively looking for yurgir because the orthons annoying him. we are literally a single step removed from balthazar casually dropping the fact theres a dark justiciar hivemind in the bodies of 100 rats and raphael getting his ass beat for setting yurgir up. raphael really really wants you to hate the emperor and free orpheus because the only bargaining chip he has is the hammer, and in the midst of THAT deal literally spells out its location for you and why youd want it, for free. raphael the crown of karsus is almost in reach but to defeat the absolute ill need the plastic card you dad keeps in his wallet, make sure you send me the 16 numbers on the front, the 3 on the back, and the expiration date! hurry raphael we dont have much time!

comparitively mizora only ever bargains from a perceived position of strength. she can afford to make demands of wyll because he has no way to stop tiamats summoning without her. then, later, she has the easiest and most accessible source of information for wylls father knowing his life is in danger as a political prisoner. these are very strong bargaining positions! shes only ever undercut by the players presence bargaining on wylls behalf. its a quick and easy way to show that her inflated opinion of herself isnt entirely without merit, although her second pact is framed as choosing between two potential agreements, save wyll and kill ulder, or save ulder and damn wyll, when in reality shes proposing a new pact that has no authority over wyll OR ulder until signed (which is why you can save ulder because she doesnt actually have the pact given authority to insta kill him the way she implies, she can only throw thwartable assassins at him like anyone else with a grudge). shes a manipulator with plenty of skin in the game and a good amount of success behind her that justifies her position within zariels court. the point of this is make a point of highlighting how *little* mizora actually fucks with wyll *as enabled by the terms of the pact*. mizora is cruel, she is manipulative, she is condescending and rude, and she makes wylls life awful with her presence, but takes very few ACTIONS towards those ends, and relies primarily on verbally demeaning him. when he violates a clause in their pact, mizora utilizes a loophole to make karlach qualify by its terms and then punishes wyll by infusing his soul with infernal essence. thats... really it. you can watch wyll backtalk her, but she doesnt even do that leash yank she does in act 1. if you blenderize her, wyll dies by the pacts terms, but like. mizora literally also dies, and is REALLY upset by it to boot. you break wylls pact, tell mizora to fuck off with her second one, and she just kinda stomps her foot and fucks off for a bit before loitering in your camp still. as a warlock you can even mention to wyll that she very easily could have snatched his soul about the karlach thing but she doesnt.

in terms of "classic warlock struggles" we barely see mizora do anything beyond being an Unpleasant Person wyll is forced to interact with. theres none of the classic "being compelled to do something evil for self serving ends at risk of suffering The Horrors", mizora barely even tries to corrupt him. wyll is never forced by mizora into circumstances where he has to evaluate his code of ethics against an action he needs to take and decide what parts of his moral code he needs to capitulate on and what to keep, wyll keeps almost every single line in the sand he ever draws! his biggest character conflicts are actually between his OWN ideals, whether to live within the heroic persona of the Blade of Frontiers, or to accept his own capability of failings and live as Wyll Ravengard. like. being a warlock barely factors at all into those decisions and the closest it comes to mattering is choosing whether or not wyll breaks his pact or saves his father, which you can expose as a false choice by just rescuing his dad anyways. mizora exerts that little influence over wylls interior world. for a literal devil on his shoulder, bargaining from the greatest position of strength a negotiator could ask for, that is so fucking WEIRD.

okay thats a whole lotta post pointing out that mizoras motivations for even makin the damn pact in the first place needs examining, so now several paragraphs in let me actually get to what i MEANT to talk about. so firstly weve established that 17 yr old wyll doesnt have anything unique to entice a devil beyond his connection to the grand duke. weve established that the pact is weirdly in wylls favor, and that its pointedly not a Skill Issue but seems to be intentional, and furthermore that the POINT of the pact doesnt seem to be corrupting a good soul into the embrace of the Hells to make a new devil, because the pact seems to be made to allow wyll to just Be Himself comfortably without much internal conflict or moral sacrifice. we know that wyll made the pact before he became the blade of frontiers, and thus the pact was not made with the Blade of Frontiers persona in mind, which removes another layer of potential justification for the extremely loose terms of the pact. we know zariel is interested in wyll through the usage of mizora as his patron, and we know that stopping the summoning of tiamat without any external aid from the myriad conflicting interests within baldurs gate almost definitely necessitated a good amount of smokescreen work behind the scenes, but also that it most likely wasnt staged in its entirely because it benefits zariel to thwart tiamats ambitions. so. why is wyll ravengard a warlock pacted to mizora? i suggest the following hypothetical: that mizoras goal, and by extension zariels, was to have a morally agreeable framework within which to make a pact with duke ravengards son, such that hed be guaranteed to agree to it, and then to hide the evidence of the pacts circumstances to allow themselves greater reign to act within baldurs gate. that the goal was to have a devil on the shoulder of the dukes son, to push their relationship into strain so as to make ulder ravengards behavior more predictable and thus vulnerable to manipulation, and that through mizora (through wyll), zariel would have a first hand source to the inner political workings of baldurs gate, and the movements of the flaming fist and the goals they were pursuing. through the fist, zariel could keep track of the cult elements they were investigating (and thus what rivals need deposing), and through wyll and his father, zariel could monitor the movements of the gates upper class and utilize mizoras skillset to ingratiate wyll further into high society and put him in close proximity to those capable of mustering meaningful resistance to an influx of infernal influence. wylls relationship to his father prior to his pact was good, we know ulder was a firm but loving father and that wyll was generally well liked in baldurs gate in general, and that wyll openly admired his father and sought to follow in his footsteps. it is in fact extremely reasonable to suspect that such a good relationship was more than a single incident away from breaking. its in fact more reasonable to presume that a major political figure would be aware of the adage of keeping ones friends close, and enemies closer, such that you could monitor their movements. its reasonable to believe that one would assume good intentions on the part of ones son, who himself has made it known that he desires to be like you. to assume, in good faith, that even with all signs of dragoncult activity removed, that ones son clearly lost his eye and gained new scars *somehow*, through *some* kind of incident related to his new fiend pact. all of these are logical and reasonable things to assume and plan for, when you have made a point of manipulating people, of reading their intentions and catering to them like a monkeys paw.

that ulder ravengard would not just chastise wyll, but banish him from baldur's gate entirely, must have been a horrible shock, not just for wyll, but for mizora. i doubt the uneventful two year gap between taking the pact and becoming the blade was purposeful. it makes more sense to interpet that as mizora simply having no fucking idea what to do with her warlock now, as the pact she dictated (designed so that wyll never felt it was unjust enough to make a point of breaking it, no matter how often he thought of doing so, because it was so in favor of him and aligned with his moral code), simply had no vehicles for any of the usual courses of action. cant force wyll into tricky moral quandries, because she can only ask him to kill evil, infernal, monstrous, or heartless beasts. cant ostracize him through the pact to isolate and grind him down, wyll cant talk about it. what do you even do? now your both stranded in the middle of nowhere with nothing but the pact to show for it

and heres where i veer into hot take interpretation country. i think mizora genuinely likes wyll. when you blenderize her in moonrise towers (before reloading a previous save ofc), her screams are oddly... genuine? confused, frightened, upset. its odd than an otherwise vindictive and catty individual isnt angry upon being killed, but confused and hurt sounding. i think in a lot of ways mizora both relies on the consistency of wylls moral code, while also considering it a hinderance, not to her plans (thoroughly derailed thanks to one ulder ravengard) but to wylls own personal development as a person. shes a devil, she doesnt have the kind of personality where she can be genuine and vulnerable and kind. but she was stuck as the only authority figure wyll had to rely on, for seven whole years, after being kicked out of the only life he ever knew and the only home he ever had. i think in a weird fucked up way, she really does want whats best for him, its just that her opinion of that is filtered through the lens of Literally Being A Devil. none of this is to say she was *good* to wyll. how wyll feels about mizora is pretty blatantly stated, and would be a much shorter post, and im not here to interrogate that or question it, because being stuck with a devil who can use your eye to spy on you is just an awful experience even without regular verbal degradation on top of it. im mostly just intrigued by the other end of that relationship. mizora clearly cares enough about keeping wyll as a warlock to go as far as trying to make a second pact with him if you succeed in negotiating the first one to be broken. which, as weve established above, is really weird because Wyll himself brings next to nothing a devil would value to the table. Mizora isnt trying to corrupt him into breaking his ethics, really the only thing she pushes is sacrificing his father instead, a decision a recruited minthara finds value in as "patricide is often the first step to greatness". i think mizora might have ulterior motives for wanting ulder ravengard dead, and i think its because she believes that wylls love for his father is holding him back. any time wyll is selfish in pushing back on her, mizora indicates some measure of being impressed on wylls behalf. if you encourage wyll to not sign the second pact, mizora taunts him with his fathers death but still says shes genuinely impressed that hes choosing himself over his father

genuinely i think what mizora wants is for wyll to become a more assertive person. a more selfish, self interested, less heroic, less self sacrificing individual. i think mizora considers wylls tendency to bend over backwards to help people to be actively detrimental to him, and i think shes invested in his growth as a person by virtue of being a guide and companion for seven of the loneliest years of wylls life, and in a fucked up devil kind of way i think she invests her pride into it. that, with her plans so thoroughly mangled, the LEAST she can do is forge wyll into a warlock worth the cost. wyll has so much potential he refuses to take, as minthara (another ambitious prideful character) will note, and its explicitly because he would rather give something up than take for himself. i think thats part of why mizora is so cruel and demeaning towards him, to try and push wyll to be pettier or more spiteful, instead of endlessly self sacrificing for the benefit of others, and this is even consistent with her punishment of wyll! she turns him into a devil and specifically notes that he wont be able to be the heroic persona The Blade of Frontiers anymore! ie the facade thats swallowed up wyll ravengard completely at the beginning of the story! i think her investment in wyll as a person is why shes so upset if you kill her at moonrise, because i think she genuinely thought that wyll would always save her and turning him into a lemure was a kind of bluff she didnt expect to cash in.

this would also explain why the terms of her second pact are so comically extreme. eternal damnation and serving zariel forever in return for maybe possibly getting to save ulder from a dangerous situation where he might die anyways from the absolute crisis and WILL die in a few decades from old age even if all goes well? its almost like shes taunting wyll. give it up, give up everything youve ever worked for and sacrifice everything you want to achieve to lock yourself into the worst evil you can think of for someone who banished you who might not even survive anyways. make this overwhelmingly stupid self sacrifice because thats just what you do wyll, never think of yourself or whats best for you, only other people, trade away all of eternity for the CHANCE of someone else getting another day, if THAT. this contract is so blatantly overwhelmingly unfair i DARE you to think so little of yourself youd agree to it. of course she wont congratulate him for choosing himself over his father, shes a devil and she has to rub salt in the wound, but that doesnt mean she disapproves of the choice. the only way wyll ever gets away from her is by thinking of himself and mizora takes every chance she gets to punish him for sacrificing himself and i think its because she knows he can do more if he just takes it for himself instead of passing it up. its the only kind of affection a devil can have. and every time i sit there and talk wyll through breaking his pact at moonrise and bully mizora into giving him a rapier (one of the best in the game, made specifically for wyll, made specifically out of his pact, when she doesnt have to give him anything and least of all something good, how its a reward specifically for wanting more from her and demanding it and not letting a circumstance where you have power over her go), i keep seeing hints of it underneath the surface.

a genuine devilish compassion for a warlock who rightfully loathes her, a loathing she encourages whenever she can. does wyll need an enemy to keep him from getting complacent? something to strive for thats just for his own benefit? it doesnt benefit anyone else for wyll to break his pact. most people benefit from him keeping it. its why he HAS kept it, all these years, despite hating mizora. i think mizoras taken it upon herself to do what the duke refuses to, and thats making sure Wyll becomes someone who can thrive in the world as she understands it. someone who has the ambition to reach higher, someone selfish enough to step on somebody else to get what they need, someone who refuses to get themselves killed just for somebody elses sake, somebody who doesnt give unless they receive in equal or greater value. someone who sees a situation where they have power, where someone needs them, and gets all they can out of it. and if not for people they want to protect, then at LEAST exploiting the people they HATE. does mizora demean him so much so that wyll is more comfortable firing back? so that wyll doesnt have to feel like hes becoming a worse person if he treats her as bad as he gets? if he treats his help as conditional, for her and only her, does he get to walk away feeling like he hasnt done anything wrong because he knows mizora does worse, and more often, and at least wyll will eventually help?

when he breaks his pact, and tells her no, he wont sign another, when he saves his father anyways, when he tells her off and gets everything he wants without sacrificing a damn thing, underneath the bluster and rage, is mizora proud of him?

things to consider sometime.

[district-thirteen-intern]

Unpopular Opinion: Damon and Elena Did Not Have a Happy Ending

This will not make the Delena fans happy. So either disagree with kindness and civility or stay away.

According to me, Damon and Elena did not have a happy ending and it has a lot to do with him and his relationship with his humanity. Damon Salvatore is a man constantly at war with the vampire he’s become and the human he left behind. However true and pure his love for Elena may be, I think even hardcore fans will admit that it was somewhat helped on or fueled by his need to be picked over his brother. He may have fallen gradually in love with her but it started out as one-upping his brother, and that's not the best start. His love is as much about loving her and being loved back as it is about holding on to the fragile illusion that he can be something more than the monster he believes himself to be. His worth in his own eyes and in comparision to Stefan is tied closely to his relationship.

He doesn’t want to be a good person—he wants to be better than Stefan or at least good enough to be chosen over Stefan.

But that's not all.

Damon's identity is tied very intrinsically with his vampiric nature, so much so he can't separate himself from it. He is one of the vampires who has the least connection to his humanity and that's not a bad thing. He has leaned into his vampiric nature for so long— from hedonistic tendencies to self-indulgent ways to alcohol addiction to violent tendencies.

He is cured of vampirism, yes, but he has not been cured of what vampirism did to him.

His humanity is a thing of the past— he justifies his cruelty either as a natural consequence of vampirism (like feeding off and killing humans, compelling them) or as a necessary evil (like killing Lexi and turning Bonnie's mom). And in that, I see how distant he is from his humanity. Being with Elena brings him closer, but it's not a permanent change. When she's asleep in S7-8, he reverts back to someone more selfish or self-centered, abandons his brother and best friend, does morally questionable things again. Why does that matter? Because once he's human, where does that leave him?

What kind of human will he be after all that?

Per canon, he has alcohol addiction but it doesn't matter because vampires have great tolerance. What about as a human? Does he quit drinking? But that won't be easy. Habits are hard to break after 5-10 years. He's had his for more than a century. How does Stefan's death affect him? The morality behind him is deeply tied to some imagined competition with his brother. First off, he's suffering from a great loss. Second, he's no longer competing for Elena with anybody. Where does that leave him? Does he quit trying hard to be someone he's not eventually? Does he keep trying but come to resent her for it? What about his violent tendencies? Where do those go when he can no longer solve his problems by killing them? What about the loss of control when he can no longer go around compelling people? What about responsibilities? It's canon that he's never been really responsible for anything— can he come up to scratch for his children, fight with addiction, try to become a better person, all while not deviating from his love for Elena and not resent her for it?

I don't think he can.

If Damon had to live as a human again, he wouldn’t thrive. His violent tendencies, his addiction to alcohol, his deep sense of inadequacy, and his distaste for anything mundane would trap him in a life of quiet resentment. His inferiority complex would balloon, especially if he still had to be around supernatural entities and see the supernatural world continue on without him. His life would become one of neglect and passive-aggressive bitterness, not just toward Elena but toward everyone who reminded him of what he lost. If anything, he’d either open a bar to feed his indulgence or fall back into old destructive habits. His resentment would build to the point of emotional neglect and potential abuse (probably not physical, but unintentionally emotional abuse for sure).

The harsh truth?

Damon Salvatore will never be able to leave behind the vampire he is. It's all he is throughout the show. Some good, some bad, some ugly— but all of it is vampire. He doesn't particularly want kids, doesn't miss mortality, so how could he like being human when the thing he misses about being human is what he used to be as a human, but he's not that person anymore, and taking the cure won't make him that person. What ensues is a tragedy of loss, resentment, and disappointment in himself, his life and the people around him. So it's great that Damon wasn't shown as human on-screen so we can imagine a version of him that doesn't exist living out a happy life with Elena (because that's what the show tells us happens) but—

In a real, logical world, being human could never be Damon Salvatore's happy ending.

And his particular brand of misery would take everyone around him down with him.

[nightcolorz]

What would the book characters think if they meet their show counterparts?

I think book Lestat wouldn't like show Lestat at all but he'll have the hots for everyone on the show immediately

Book Daniel would be in shock that his show version is old in human years, that's like, his worst nightmare, he'd have a mental breakdown over it, meanwhile book Armand would love to know show Armand held on so long before giving Daniel the dark gift and his beloved got to live a full life before becoming a vampire

Book Armand would also obsess about show Armand's adult body

Book and show Louis would NOT get on, show Louis would just not stop going "A WHITE MAN???" He would also call the book version boring (and dull, and beige pillow like...)

I loooooveeee this question I actually think about this all the time 😭😭. So so hilarious to me I want to put the book characters and the show characters in a cage match.

I think Show Louis would hate book Louis bcus book Louis is like the embodiment of his flaws in a way 💀💀 he’s like everything bad about show Louis in 4K. Show Louis reacts to book Louis the way he’d react to the Christmas carol ghosts showing him all his fuck ups. What’s funny to me about the race change is that show Louis’s ancestors were slave owners, and if he was born in the 1700s he’d likely have been a slave owner, so meeting wet cat book Louis who is him if he was just a little bit older and way whiter and realizing how terrible he is would be a mind fuck. It’d be like meeting his shitty great great great grandfather who also has his same taste in poetry. On the other hand I think book Louis would be equally as aghast by show Louis being a pimp as show Louis is about book Louis being a slave owner 😭. Book Louis’s moral problems r largely religion based and I think he’d be confused and startled by how little catholic purity standards matter to show Louis 💀. But book Louis is also very polite and southernly passive aggressively pleasant and soft spoken to strangers so I think any kind of altercation that could occur would be very one sided 💀. Show louis is like wtf wtf is this what is wrong with u and book Louis is reading his book silently and frowning.

if book Daniel met show Daniel he’d instantly go into cardiac arrest and die from agony before show Daniel could give him the older self “don’t do drugs u wild youth” inspirational talk. Exactly what u said 💀 its so funny that they made show Daniel old bcus of how afraid book Daniel is of growing old

And YES on all the Armand thoughts loolll. I feel like book Armand and show Armand r the only book vs show characters that would get along. I think book Armand would be veryyy envious of show Armand 😭 bcus show Armand is Book Armand if he was morally stronger, made decisions more soundly and kindly, was an adult, and had giant pecks. He’d would definitely be star struck over how show Armand didn’t turn Daniel until he was an old man and he’d probably go into a insecure self hating spiral from seeing his (perceived) stronger and better and sexier au self. I think also, show Armand would be very kind to book Armand. I get the impression that as a teenager show Armand did look and act more like book Armand does, and he’d react sort of like “this is me if things went more wrong and I was still the teenager that haunts me, look at him hes trying his best” I think show Armand would admire book Armand’s endurance and his self sufficiency (that show Armand doesn’t have) and be kind of like, well if tiny cherub me can live like this maybe I can to. But I think the key to the Armand’s getting along better then the other characters would would be how both Armand’s r so mentally ill and so existential and religious that talking to some alternate version of themselves would not phase them and probably would be like common occurrence of the week 💀

Show lestat and book lestat would hate fuck 💀l think book Lestat would go into a “you hurt my Louis 😰 JAIL jail for 100000 years” spiral, but then eventually get himself together and be like “yknow what I also am evil and have problems who am I to judge” and he’d remember that he is super attracted to men who look like him but are older and smarter and start stripping immediately. I think both lestats would be mad about seeing their flaws reflected in each other and express that by crazy self cest fucking and then lie on the floor together doing each others eyeliner and crying

thank u for the ask this is my favorite thing lol

[yuri-is-online]

oof that's a really good morally grey pwp idea... if darkwick tells mc her curse cannot be lifted but can be passed on to a child -> the new cure is for her to be impregnated by a ghoul (better chance of whatever makes them ghouls overpowering whatever makes mc cursed), give birth to that child and for darkwick to kill the newborn immediately... but to prevent any of the ghouls from forming a real attachment to the fetus and somehow busting into the delivery room to save it, they can't know who the father is -> cue a multichapter pwp fic (with the exception of rui)...

(sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, please delete if so!!)

( • ̀ω•́ )✧ fufuufufufu no I don't mind this, I lack the technical skills to write it but yes that's a really good pwp idea. Poor Rui this might be enough to make him actually lose it, can you imagine being someone whose main character trait is being a whore, but being denied your godgiven right join the school sanctioned gangbang? They're even encouraging you to hit it raw fuck this stupid baka life he's done. I also like how you excluded Rui but not Zenji because that would make it even worse... the ghost gets to hit it but he doesn't? ED GETS TO HIT IT BUT NOT HIM?!?!?!!!!

I was thinking about smut when I typed that of course but I didn't really spend a lot of time thinking about the plot because I was too busy inventing new ethical questions. Would Taiga want to eat the baby? It is technically part anomaly... he doesn't want to eat Ed or Lyca so I would guess not but still. What about guys like Romeo, Ritsu, or Jin? Would they even agree to participate in something like this given how important children are to rich fussy families would they see making one like this extra wrong? Or would the horny kick in and they not want to allow the chance for MC's baby to be anyone other than theirs? Oh and on Ritsu, I feel like he'd be making a bunch of weird legal arguments trying to justify wanting to get the mc pregnant. He's just repressed, the arguments don't matter, but would he then try to make a bunch of arguments to keep the baby alive? Is there a legal standard of personhood in Japan and do I even want to research that-

Speaking of personhood, Lyca, Ed, and Zenji. I feel like Lyca wouldn't be able to let go of the idea of MC as his mate and that child as his baby. He wants to live with humans and be human, part of that seems to be him wanting a real family so if he was the baby daddy this would just be extra cruel. His instinct and desire is to love and protect, and even if he didn't have that he knows what Darkwick is like. Danger or not he doesn't want them killing you or the baby. Ed probably just wouldn't see what the problem is. Yes, his baby is an abomination from hell part vampire part Kyklos (so little human he doesn't need to mention that). No, he will not be letting Darkwick kill them and yes he will know if the baby is his, he has a sixth sense for these sorts of things. Now now don't cry, he might be an old man but he's not above taking responsibility, Japan was getting boring anyway. He can drop you off in whatever hole he crawled out of to can rest and recover while he watches the baby and shows them man made horrors beyond their comprehension (conspiracy youtube videos). I brought up Zenji just because the image of MC wanting to get dicked down by a ghost and conducting a dark ritual to let him do it. Also idk Zenji feels like another extra tragic because he also is someone who values family so I don't think he would want to see his child die, but also if it could save MC he'd really want to try and help.

Yuri would be very smug about this being a solution, volunteer to help, realize that everyone thinks he wants to fuck the MC, and then pass out from screaming denial and the mental image of her bare neck. I feel like he'd be one of the "worse" choices in Darkwick's mind because he would probably want to keep the baby to experiment on, but be completely unable to see them as anything other than his child and devolve into the same desperate search to cure them as he was on with MC. And he expects child support! He will not be a single father, MC get back here and take some responsibility for your actions!!! Jiro also feels like someone who would volunteer not realizing the method he was volunteering for but unlike Yuri he just rolls with it. He's so unashamed of nudity, yours or his, and what is sex if not nudity with some extra steps-

(My mind more went towards artificial insemination, so Rui wouldn't be excluded from the pool and there was no chance for the ghouls to form an emotional connection to either the MC or their potential baby. Oh I also don't think Darkwick would tell MC or the dad that the kid is going to be killed. They would probably lie about it and act like the child would be fine, just maybe an anomaly they would need to keep an eye on. And then they lie to MC and say the baby was still born but they just keep them in a little padded room and experiment on them their whole life, which just starts the Kyklos cycle anew except this time the monster is sentient and out for blood with intent.)

[underwaterspaghetti314]

Ok! Castlevania posting again! This time it’s about Mizrak.

So in a post from earlier I talked about how the Abbot had already resigned himself to Hell and that this sort of thing is exactly what the devil wants, and I used that to discuss the possibility of an Abbot redemption arc. 5 episodes and one Abbot-frying later, that ain’t possible anymore. But you know who that is possible with? Mizrak.

Mizrak was already dealing with a conflict of faith with his romance with Olrox since season 1. How could he, a proper God-fearing man be in love with such an unholy creature (and also being gay about it? If the Pope knew about this he’d launch another crusade)? That wasn’t a hugely terrible deal though. To sin is to be human, and his weakness with Olrox did not define him. He was still a very devout man who believed in doing good and following God to the very end.

Then, at the end of the season, he saw the very end. He sat at death’s doorstep and was greeted not by God or an angel, but by what seemed to be the Devil. Now his faith is shaken. Now he believes himself damned for eternity. Now he believes himself to be evil, and that might make him give up on being good, since he’s damned anyway. That’ll be a very interesting thing to see.

Now, I should be clear that I don’t think he was damned to begin with. What Mizrak thought was the Devil was most likely there for Olrox. Clearly the two are familiar with each other, since Olrox knows his name, Old Man Coyote, and talks to him like he’s an old friend turned old enemy. Old Man Coyote was there to try to make a deal with Olrox for Mizrak’s life. Of course, Olrox rejected it, but I think Coyote had a plan B for that meeting which is going swimmingly.

I think Coyote’s plan was to get Olrox to turn Mizrak. He’s turned both of them in a direction that could very easily lead to incredible evil, which is presumably his M.O. assuming that Coyote and the Devil really are the same guy as the show suggests.

By getting Olrox to turn Mizrak and getting Mizrak to think Hell is waiting for him on the other side, Mizrak is being consumed by thoughts of how God hates him. He thinks he was an unforgivable sinner as just a man, but now even his own body has become unholy, a monument against God. Now that both his actions and his very existence seem to be evil, he must think that all is lost for him. I think this is solidly represented at the end, where he no longer has any reservations about his relationship with Olrox, which was a big point of internal conflict up until now. Now he’s got a “fuck it might as well” attitude about it. Why deny himself this sin if his very existence is sinful now? I think this could lead to him becoming a lot more lax with his morals. Coyote targeted Mizrak’s greatest weakness: his faith. Now that cracks are showing, they are going to start spreading fast.

Coyote also targeted Olrox’s greatest weakness, although he was more overt about it from the beginning. Olrox’s main weakness is Mizrak. He loves him so much. He’d kill for Mizrak. He’d die for Mizrak. He’d do anything for Mizrak. He loves him so much he turned him into a vampire because he couldn’t bear being left behind. And now that Mizrak is looking at a downward path, it’s a matter of time before Olrox follows him there. It’s not like he hasn’t done his fair share of evil anyway. The show opens with him forcing a little boy to watch his mother die, but he seems a lighter shade of morally grey these days. But with Mizrak pulling him down he can get a lot worse.

My question is how long Olrox could resist that. How long can he keep Mizrak from plunging into becoming a monster? Olrox isn’t a monster, not much of one at least. He’s one of the most human vampires we’ve seen so far. He also seems to want what’s best for Mizrak, so he’d most likely try to pull him out of a downward spiral. We’ll see how that goes.

[andreal831]

I know you’re not into TVD/TO crossed ships, but like… Jenna and Elijah had something, okay? Maybe it was just Elijah being all charming and lowkey trying to annoy Damon and Alaric, but still—they were kinda cute!!! In a weird, “this probably shouldn’t work but it does” way yk ???

Idk do u have any thoughts on these two ?

I first just want to say that I LOVE Jenna. She will always hold such a special place to me.

I definitely think they were flirting and Elijah was only partly doing it to annoy Alaric and Damon. I mean why wouldn't he be into her? She's incredible. And at least she is more age appropriate than the literal high schoolers.

I think they could have been something temporary in a completely different world. One where Elijah wasn't the super morally corrupt person we see in TVDU. Maybe an amnesia Elijah and Jenna could have something. She's similar to women we see him interested in throughout the show. She's intelligent, family-oriented, badass, and sarcastic.

The issue we might run into is how morally questionable Elijah is. My initial instinct was to say Jenna has a clear, black and white moral view of the world. She is one of the few people that finds it strange that "24 year old" Damon is hanging around teenagers. But she also says some questionable things, especially about her party days that make me believe she understands the world is a little more complicated. Maybe if she had been given more time in the supernatural world, we could have seen a more of her complex morality. We know she would do anything for her family. She sacrifices herself for Elena without hesitating, even willing to kill the witch, Greta, in order to save her niece.

I've talked about it the other day, but Elijah tends to need people around him that can live in the grey. People who understand the meaning of doing anything for family, even if it seems horrible. Because at the end of the day, he's never going to be "fixed" of that. We see bits of that in Jenna near the end.

So then we run into my normal problem with TVD/TO cross over. She is willing to do anything for her family and he is willing to do anything for his family. Families which often find themselves on opposing teams. In a world where Klaus is killed, Elena would be to. I don't see Jenna hooking up with the man who had a hand in that. In a world where Jenna wasn't used as the vampire, Klaus survives, Elena survives, Elijah is firmly on Klaus' side who still wants to use Jenna's niece as a blood bag. Again, she would not cross that line.

I also don't think their desires would line up super well. We don't really know what Jenna wants out of her life. Her life was put on hold when she took over caring for her niece and nephew, but I always got the impression she didn't want that. I assumed she wanted to go live her life, party a bit more, finish college, not settle down with kids and a husband. Even Elijah without his memories isn't exactly a partier. He loves that lowkey, quiet life style. I could see them running into each other if they had never come in contact, having a brief, fun fling. But it wouldn't lead to much more.

But I'll always enjoy their flirty banter! I definitely agree with the "it probably shouldn't work but it does." Like not long term, but I can see something there.

Thanks for the ask! <3