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[amostimprobabledream]

Pictured: Gale rolling a nat 1 on his insight check

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Before I fade to silver (Bram Stoker x Reader)

For contest winner @librarianqueen! :D The silvery moonlight lit the forest path like a beacon guiding your slippered feet onwards. Dead leaves rustled as you walked, the wind blowing through the trees. The vicar, your lone company in the cool light, wheezes as he struggles beside you. Ordinarily the sound would be of considerable irritation to you, but the present moment, it is a small comfort to know that you are not alone. Especially considering where you’re headed. The castle looms into view above the skeletal tree branches. Grey stone that looks forbidding in the night, like the skin of a corpse. The man, your groom, is waiting for you by the front doors. Lord Bram Stoker watches impassively as you and the vicar approach him, a figure dressed entirely in black. The rumours appear to be true. He is handsome in a pale, eerie way. His long silver hair flows in the wind, and as you draw closer it strikes you how tall he is. “You came alone?” He asks with the slight tilt of his head. His voice is smooth and deep, with the faintest trace of an unfamiliar accent. You nod, your throat suddenly feeling dry. You didn't want a fuss. The thought of some long-winded ceremony bidding you farewell, the pompous mayor's voice droning on and on, and citizens who had never even met you before coming for the free buffet and pretending to mourn your impending absence…it was more than you could stomach. You would not be used to feed their collective ego. So, you politely declined the offer and insisted that the only required the vicar to accompany to officiate the proceedings. But now, standing alone before the vampire lord, who has your life in his hands, it was like the bravery was being leached from you through the cold ground, sucking it away alongside your body heat. The vicar was so insignificant in this equation that you may as well have been all alone with him. Bram seems to understand your reasoning for not having any friends or family with you, and unspoken look of mutual distaste for the town passes between you. You had not been surprised when your name had been brought up as a possible tribute to offer the vampire. You stood unattached in the town and had no strong ties there – in other words, in the eyes of the counsel, you were expendable. “May I begin?” The vicar asks, and Bram finally broke eye contact with you to glance boredly at him. “You may.” He replies, as if granting a great favour.

The vicar begins to read out the wedding vows in his croaky voice, but they mean nothing to you. The words slide over you like water as you stare at what is meant to be your future husband, unable to comprehend this is really happening. It seems that any moment you’ll wake up in your bed, probably drenched in sweat. It's only when Bram takes your hand in his do you finally jolt back to reality.

“With this ring, I do thee wed.” he intones gravely, locking eyes with yours. You reply with the words that had been drummed into your head, all for this moment. Your lips tingle as you say;

“With this ring... I do thee wed.” His pale fingers slide the ring onto yours, a lone diamond glinting in the metal band like a tear. The vicar shuts the heavy, leatherbound book in his hand with a cough. It’s like a punctuation on this whole affair. “May god be with you.” He says to you, even if he knows it’s unlikely. He nods stiffly to Bram and hurries away as fast as his decrepit state will allow. You watch him swallowed up by the darkness of the forest, before you turn back to Lord Bram, wanting to ask him what happens next, yet you can’t bring yourself to say it yet – you want to relish your last few minutes or freedom and – possibly- life you have left. “Come inside.” Bram says, turning away from the woods, uncaring about whether the vicar will make it back safely or not. “It is chilly out here.” You nod, surprised by his courtesy and simultaneously grateful for an excuse to get out of the biting winds, and follow him through the thick, heavy doors of the castle. They boom through the deserted entryway as they close and you crane your neck to look about the place – it looks enormous, especially compared to what you’re used to. You wonder if he lives here all alone or if he has servants to talk to. You turn to Bram, biting your lip anxiously. His eyes are tracking up and down your frame and you have the instinctive urge to cross your arms over your chest. He has a right to look at you if he wants, you just married him, but his stare is unnerving and you’re aware of his power even if he isn’t actively using it. There’s a subtle sort of magic that thrums in the air like music. “It has likely been a long day for you, preparing for this.” Bram says, glancing towards the staircase. “I can have someone show you to your room if you would prefer to rest- “ “Wait, you’re…I mean, I’m staying here? To live?” you say, feeling stupid, but you’d thought you were going here as an…offering. You weren’t expecting to be treated like a guest. Bram doesn’t look unduly surprised by your confusion and simply sighs, giving a little shake of his head. Moonlight glints off his hair, giving it an almost ethereal glow. “I am not surprised they did not explain to you what would happen once you stepped over the threshold to my castle. Rest assured; whatever you may have been told, I have no interest in harming you. What I want from you is…” He reaches out a hand and his fingers trace your throat. You stare at him, sucked in by the deep ruby colour of his eyes and you find yourself unable to move away, even if you wanted to. “My blood.” You breathe, feeling your heart picking up the pace of its frantic beating. “Yes.” He says, more softly than before. “But, if you do not want to become like me, I will not transform you. I simply require sustenance that only someone like you can provide.” “I can…become one of you?”

The thought of transforming into a vampire, one of the undead, should be horrifying, but…your own life hasn’t been terribly exciting up until now. Just a powerless human girl. And being offered up as a wedding gift to Lord Stoker proved to you how easy it was to be ripped away from everything you’ve ever known, how little you mattered to the people around you. But if you became a vampire, turned by Lord Stoker himself…well. That’s a different thing entirely. “If you wish it,” Bram replies, reaching out to cup your cheek. “Who am I to deny my wife?” Butterflies take flight in the pit of your stomach. Being in wedding clothes hadn’t really made you feel any less like a pig for slaughter, more like a costume than a real, binding ceremony. It wasn’t as though anybody in the village thought you would live a few minutes past the wedding vows.

But now… “Then yes.” You say in a breathy voice, your heart pounding loudly, you feel like it’s taken a trip to sit in your throat instead. “I want…to be like you.” Even though he said he wouldn’t mind your choice either way, there is approval on his carved marble face as he looks down at you. He seems pleasantly surprised by your answer and he moves closer to you, until the gossamer material of your dress brushes his all-black attire. “Then hold still…” he says, his voice lowering slightly, husky with want. You nod and tilt your head for easier access to your throat. With one hand still on your cheek, he moves closer, silver hair tickling your skin. When his fangs sink into the fragile skin of your throat you like out a squeal – it’s like being pierced by twin icicles, the sensation a shock of cold that sends shivers running down your back, flesh breaking out in goosebumps. But gradually, the pain starts to ebb away. Bram’s touch is firm but gentle on you as he laps at your throat, the blood bursting on your tongue like flowers opening. Your body trembles beneath him but you don’t buck, don’t fight to get away. You sink into the sensation, and gradually a warmth washes over you in a soothing tide. A pulse throbs between your legs as Bram holds you in a passionate embrace like a lover, a growl in his throat as he drinks and drinks and drinks. Oh god… you think, wondering if he’s going to drain you dry or even kill you. Who would punish him if he did? Who would even learn of it? And just at the moment where you feel like you might pass out then and there in the entryway, he stops. He leans back and pulls you upright but doesn’t let go. You take a moment to reorient yourself, blinking, taking note of your body and how it’s faring. You’re still breathing, your heart is still going a mile a minute, but you’re not dead. You don’t feel dead. “I…that’s it?” you ask, looking at him – a dribble of blood shines in the corner of his mouth. “Have I transformed?” He chuckles and swipes some of your hair out of your face. “Of course not. It takes time to transition from human to vampire, but it is the beginning. You will be weak for a little while, as your body begins the process, but rest assured, you could not be in a place better equipped to care for you.” You can’t help but giggle a little at that, probably because you’re light-headed and giddy, but…the townsfolk all thought you were going off to be drank from and tossed aside, or perhaps even killed, and now you’re under the protection of a handsome, mysterious vampire lord who wants you to stay by his side in relative comfort. If those other girls knew what they could have had, they’d be pissing blood with envy. You think gleefully, almost wanting to clap your hands like a child at a birthday party – it’s like reverse schadenfreude. But Bram is right, you do feel light-headed and weak now, despite the euphoria. When you slump in his grip he takes action, stooping and easily picking you up, one hand supporting your knees and the other your back. You make a choking noise and look at him. “Lord Bram, this isn’t- “ “Nonsense. I would hardly force my bride to walk up all these stairs after her first blood drain.” He replies in a stern voice that makes you wriggle, biting back a grin. “Converse your energy instead of protesting.” You sink into him as he carries you upstairs, glimpsing the moon peeking through the window as you pass, and a smile crosses your lips as you slowly feel your eyes begin to close. You should get used to being a nocturnal creature, but for now, you fall into the embrace of your husband and the night, dreaming of diamonds sparkling in cool silver, sharp teeth and glinting stars.

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I have eaten. So much cheese.

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Shunsui and Starrk both def would listen to Hozier.

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omg I forgot what today is. happy 4/2o day

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Wtf since when did I have a fit neighbour??

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i mean…

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1000 Followers Giveaway! - WINNERS ANNOUNCED!

Hey there!

I'm so sorry I forgot to do this earlier, but it's finally time to announce who won my 1000 followers post! I meant to do it last weekend but I was at a house party and too shitfaced to do much internet stuff. ANYWAYS, without further ado! 1st Prize Winner - Congrats @librarianqueen! 2nd Prize Winner - Congrats @whatevermonkey! Please DM me to let me know what kind of fic/hcs you'd like me to write and we can get the ball rolling! Thank you to everyone who took part! I really do appreciate hitting this milestone. <3

[amostimprobabledream]

Megumi would be a great getaway driver. It shaves years off his life. (wanted some Toji and Megumi father son activities!!)

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personally I think it's cool how gege is just like "fuck y'all"

[amostimprobabledream]

Accidentally saying "Yes, chef!" to Kensei instead of "Yes, captain/sir!" XD

I've been waiting for a request like this for my entire life.

Characters: Kensei Muguruma

Contents: gn!reader, nonsense

Kensei Muguruma

Clever you, you’ve managed to find a stable WiFi connection in the afterlife, and you’ve been binge-watching Hell’s Kitchen on your downtime. (If you work in the Ninth, you don’t make the mistake of trying to watch YouTube videos on the sly during work hours. Kensei will know. Or Mashiro will rat you out, the little hypocrite.)

The comparison between Kensei and Gordon Ramsay is all too obvious. They’re both good cooks, both have high, exacting standards and expectations for their underlings, and both yell like drill sergeants. 

Now, one assumes you’re normally savvy enough not to conflate your captain with a British TV chef, but there are times in the Ninth Division when sleep deprivation and low-grade caffeine poisoning make your grip on reality tenuous. Namely, when the newest edition of the Seireitei Communication is due to be published. 

Long hours, vending machine coffee, and the miasma of frenetic tension in the air of the editorial office. Agitated typing, hushed whispers about deadlines and bylines, and the constant rustle of papers. And then a voice, cutting through it like a foghorn, yelling your name.

You jerk upright, every blood vessel in your body dilating, and dark specks swirling through your vision. You don't even know what he's asking for. The answer is instinctive.

“YES, CHEF!”

The words spring from your lips like a wild animal being freed from a trap. How long have they been sitting there, waiting for their chance to escape. Your eyes widen. Silence descends upon the editorial office, even the most tardy reporter’s fingers stilling on their keyboard. 

You somehow summon the courage to look at your captain. And he knows. You know he knows. He’s lived in the World of the Living for the last century. There’s no way he doesn’t know about Hell’s Kitchen. 

Time stretches, growing thin and stringy like cheese when you pull a slice of fresh pizza from the box. When was the last time you ate?

Kensei inhales slowly, nostrils flaring. He points a finger at you with all the menace of a gun. “Go. Home.”

Relief is a flood that leaves you giddy. You scramble for your bag and head for the door, the beleaguered stares of your colleagues prickling your back. Should they be jealous or pity you? Are you being given a break or being punished?

Either way, it doesn’t matter to you. Your futon is calling you, humming a mother’s lullaby. As you exit the editorial office, you hear Mashiro shouting gleefully at one of the shinigami-journalists:

“It’s fucking raw, you donkey!”

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Ew, I had emotions just now. Disgusting.