i-shall-abide

[i-shall-abide]

moodboards:  Father Francis Mulcahy

“Wondrous and mysterious are the ways of God, and I would have no one shield my eyes from the glory of His works.”

[i-shall-abide]

Most of my posts are about Remmick, but my favorite character was actually Delta Slim, and people are definitely not talking about him enough

Delroy Lindo played this character amazingly. He was a comedic relief without it feeling very out of place which is a pet peeve I have with movies. A lot of movies have someone as a comedic relief (which isn’t the issue) but they’re usually very unrealistic and unnatural a lot of the time

You can also see how good of a person he is, especially when he was encouraging the men who were working while they were driving through the fields and then sacrificing himself so Sammie, someone he didn’t even know until that day, could escape and live.

People don’t talk about that enough and I really think Sammie wouldn’t have survived without Delta Slim, because Smoke, Sammie and Pearline (am I missing someone else from that scene?) could barely fight off Remmick alone, imagine ALL the other vampires on top of that

[i-shall-abide]

It’s perfect, it’s everything I could have dreamed of, etc. <3

I have a remmick x gender neutral!reader request (I hope you do those, if not it’s okay!). Reader is a lone, fledgling vampire - perhaps they became a vampire through being cursed, or whatever strikes your fancy. I’m dying for more Sinners vampire lore.

Anyways, reader is on their own, not knowing how to vampire, barely surviving, throat on fire with thirst because they don’t understand their new afterlife until they meet Remmick. The two can be companions, which they so obviously need.

Rotten Blood

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; Thank you for the request!! I absolutely love this idea and can 100% do a gender-neutral reader :) Of course Remmick still calls them the usual pet names (darlin’, baby, etc.) since I believe those can be for anybody so interpret as you will!

Summary; As a new vampire, you have no idea what to do but don’t worry, Remmick will help you.

Content; GN reader, fledgling vampire reader, getting turned, vampirism, suicidal ideation, hive minds, starvation, death, Remmick is weird and a smartass (what else is new), blood and injury, fighting Remmick, Remmick gives you your first meal, vampire bonding, very dependent relationship

Wc; 4.2k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

You’ve never before known a hunger like this.

You feel it within every cell of your immortalized body as you stumble through the moonlit forest in a daze. Roots catch the toes of your boots, intent on dragging you down and keeping you there with them as they consume your flesh that’s so inherently wrong. You know it wouldn’t be difficult, you know that if you fell you wouldn’t be able to get back up. Starvation is like a beast stuck in the confines of your form, growling within your stomach and creating a tightness like a clenched fist in your chest. Your lips are dry and cracked, your face sunken, skin sallow, throat burning like you swallowed acid.

The teeth in your mouth feel unfamiliar, sharpened at the ends and crafted with the purpose of tearing into flesh. They create an ache in your gums, full of a desire to rip and devour and drink the warm life of God’s creations, the same ones you’d been taught to cherish. They’ve refused to retract since that night, your own body ignoring your commands in favor of the hunger steadily consuming you.

It was two weeks ago now, the time that passed feeling like an unbearable blur tracked through the moon’s cycle. She was full when your family was killed in front of you, and now she’s merely a crescent sitting amongst the stars.

You hadn’t known the man, neither did your parents. All they’d seen was a person in need of help and god bless their hearts, they’d welcomed him in so he could have a place to rest. You’d merely been visiting, something you did every month now that your parents were getting older, having no idea it’d be the last time you ever did such a thing. You were in your room finishing your work, oblivious to the monster that had just stepped foot inside your childhood home. It was three minutes after when the screaming started and you ran out to find your momma and papa laying in pools of their own blood with that man standing over them.

His beady eyes locked on to you and you’d tried to run but oh, do those things love a chase. You’d been shoved to the ground so hard your chin busted and you’d punched and kicked with all your might, but it wasn’t enough against a creature with snapping teeth and claws digging into your shoulders. In an act of desperate frenzy, you felt those fangs sink in and rip your life right from your neck.

You don’t understand why you were the only one who woke up again.

When you came to on the kitchen floor, you found you were alone and covered in your blood. It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes based on the warmth of it, but the man was nowhere to be seen and your back door was left swinging open. It made you sick how alien your body felt, like you’d been picked up out of your original one and plopped right into a new one. There was something unusual that crawled under your skin, your limbs felt foreign, and every sense was heightened to an inhuman level. You could hear the critters far off in the woods, could smell the iron of your parent’s blood, could see perfectly in the darkness of the house.

You didn’t know what to do. You wanted to scream, to cry, to puke, to chase down that vile man and kill him—with the claws that protruded from your fingers now, you probably could. But you didn’t do any of that. You merely stood on unsteady feet and walked out the door, something within you telling you that you couldn’t stick around any longer.

From there you continued to wander in a state of shock, unable to muster a single thought, your gleaming eyes wide and lips parted in disbelief. You kept going until the moon began to fall, until some secondary, old voice inside of you hissed that you needed to seek shelter. You’d gone deeper into the woods, managing to find an old hut that was falling apart inside and out. It was completely abandoned, meaning you got to just walk inside and curl up in the furthest corner from the door, making yourself as small as possible on the wooden floor that gave you splinters.

You laid there for hours as the world seemed to pass you by, only noticing when the room lightened with the sun, rays breaking in through a hole in the roof or gaps between the boards. You were far enough from them that you didn’t burn but you still felt the kiss of their heat on your sweat soaked skin. You were more than content to just remain there, to listen to the sounds of the outside as your body rotted away in some unknown hut. Then the voices started.

Screams and terrified voices of those long dead, of people who suffered your same fate, creating a cacophony within your mind. You’d groaned like you were in pain, clutching your head as they continued to wail. It was your connection to the man that did this, the souls of those he’d damned come to torment his newest victim. You could feel him so faintly within you, his frayed emotions and frantic thoughts, and if you branched yourself out, you knew you’d be able to rifle through a couple of his loose memories. It was clear he had no care for anyone but himself, he was barely a century old, and he lived in a state of constant panic. It spread to you, anxiety kicking in your chest, making you feel as though you were being hunted by something unseen.

“Please… just stop…” You’d muttered, your first words since your parents were killed. Your voice was cracked and weak, a mere whisper to whatever cursed god reigned over damned things like yourself. The screams quieted, but they were still there in the back of your mind, a constant echo while you drifted through fitful bouts of sleep.

Those voices became your companion while you walked through the forest like a ghost. Your hunger reared its ugly head after two days, your vampiric mind running in circles around the idea of fresh blood. The human part of you that still remained refused, the thought of taking a human life all for your own needs making you ill. You’d tried to eat the normal food you were able to scrounge up, had tried to drink water from a stream, but it just ended with you throwing it back up in violent heaves until there was nothing left but bile. You’d cried then, sobs wracking your body in frustration and horror, your tears tinted red.

Your days and nights continued to drag on much the same. You pulled yourself back into your hut as the moon set, you withered away on the floor, and then you’d spend the night roaming in search of some kind of purpose while desperate pleas and screams bounced around your skull. There were some days where you’d simply stare at the sunlight coming in through your hut, the specks of dust dancing in the rays acting like a taunt. You wanted nothing more than to walk into them, the human part of you begging for freedom, rattling the bars of the cage you’d been forced into. However, just as you’d reach forward, just as the sun would make your skin bubble and blister, you’d yank yourself back. That twisted sense of self-preservation continued to keep you from ending it all, kept you trapped in your prison of flesh and bone.

Sometimes the voices even urged you to do it. Some of them went out the same way, they just walked straight out into the sun and burned with nobody to stop them. They murmured that you should join them in their torture of the man who turned you, their spirits locked to him in an act of defiance, restlessness, and anger. You could never escape them until the one night they just… went silent.

It was like a radio being abruptly shut off, pure silence following. It felt like you could breathe again, could think again, at last left with just your own thoughts and emotions. You knew what it meant—the man that did this had finally been killed. You weren’t surprised of course, based on his old memories it seemed he was a fucking idiot anyway. With quiet finally in your mind, that was the first day you were able to sleep properly.

The cycle continued, hunger eating away at you with each sunrise and sunset. It’s why you’re still walking the woods now, like you’re hoping some solution will present itself to you and relieve you of this problem. You haven’t even been able to catch an animal, your heavy limbs too clumsy and your mind too distracted to get your claws on a mere rabbit. It’s led you to wander farther than you ever have before, starvation leading you on an invisible leash to what’s undoubtedly your own demise. Your mouth hangs open, your fangs peeking out from behind your lips, desperate for something, anything, to ease the pain twisting your stomach.

Your shoulder bumps into a tree and you find yourself sticking there like a bug would get stuck to sap, leaning your weight against the trunk with panting breaths. Your knees threaten to buckle beneath you, unable to keep holding up your shrinking weight. You would’ve sunk to the ground right there and made that your resting place if something strange didn’t break you out of your stupor. The forest had gone quiet. It’s not the kind of quiet of night time when all the birds have laid to rest, it’s the kind that’s followed by something dangerous, every creature and insect too scared to utter a single peep.

Your ears perk, your abnormal eyes widening in an attempt to get a better view of your surroundings. You can feel it. The hairs along your arms raise with goosebumps, a shiver runs down your spine, your teeth ache in response, something new is hissing in your mind to be ready, like it knows something you don’t. You think you hear whispers in the branches above, passing things that you can’t make out but proceed something that has you shoving yourself off that tree with newfound strength, your claws extending even further.

“Thought I smelled somethin’ good.”

You whip around at that southern drawl of a voice, finding the source of it in a man leaning against a tree not even ten feet away. You can see the way his eyes gleam red in the darkness like rubies, lazily looking you over. His scent comes to you on the breeze—ancient earth, rusted metal, and old leather, with an undertone of something that doesn’t belong in this world. In other words, something like you. His posture is relaxed, hands in the pockets of his trousers, sleeves rolled up, but it does nothing to shut off the alarms blaring in your mind. It’s a constant loop of things like danger, threat, new vampire, too strong, run-

He shifts, taking slow steps towards you. “Ain’t never seen you ‘round here before.” He says curiously, hands falling from his pockets to reveal long claws stained with blood. His fangs show when he speaks, glinting under the moon and undoubtedly sharper than yours. His head tilts. “What’s yer name, sweet thing?”

You can’t find it in yourself to answer as you stumble away from him. You want nothing to do with another vampire, not after witnessing the one who turned you. Though this one seems vastly different, more experienced and sure of himself, like he’s been around long enough to figure it out. He hums. “No need to be scared, darlin’. Here, I’ll go first. Name’s Remmick.” The name itself sounds old and foreign, a piece from a time long ago, from lands far away. His eyes narrow when he looks at you, assessing. “Ya look like skin and bones. When’s the last time you ate?”

“Stay away from me.” You finally manage to bite out, the first thing you’ve spoken in days. The words burn your throat, thick and clunky on your tongue. Your fingers twitch, your muscles tense, and Remmick notices. He smiles knowingly.

“It’s okay, darlin’, I can help ya. Ya feel that hunger eatin’ you from the inside out, don’t ‘cha?” He says, seeing it plain as day on your face. He’s seen it plenty of times in other fledglings, even in himself. That original denial to feed, the unbearable wrongness of your desire, the desperation to cling to your humanity, even if it kills you. He forced himself to overcome it with defiance, to give in to the new monster raging within his body. He can tell there’s nothing like that in you though, instead filled with misery and depression and skittish instinct. Hell, if he had to guess you’re probably a day away from dropping dead.

Before you can even blink, he’s on you; your hunger-induced sluggishness is no match for his speed. Your breath whooshes out of you in a gasp when he grabs your face, those claws of his just lightly pressing into your skin like a reminder. His hold on you is tight as he tilts your head from side to side, his brows scrunching. “Yeah, ya ain’t one of mine. You get left all alone then, darlin’? Abandoned by yer maker?” His tuts in disdain. “Y’know, I killed one of them a few days back. Real young, spazzy fella, got too in my space.“

Your eyes widen with recognition. So he’s the one that did the other guy in. You’d honestly thank him for it if you weren’t terrified. With mere inches separating you, you’re able to more clearly see his strong features, the curls of black sitting on his forehead, the lines of a human life gone by just barely etching his face. There’s something eerily charming about him, something that makes you want to give in to his promises.

Still, there’s a part of you that refuses, that won’t fall prey to another one of these beasts, that has you raising your claws and slashing them across his arm. He yanks back with a hiss, red irises flashing dangerously like sparking embers. He holds his wound, four gashes along his forearm, the blood beginning to seep through his fingers. You nearly choke on the scent of it, staggering back a step as it wraps around you, thick and cloying. For the first time, you feel the drool pooling in your mouth, made from moisture you didn’t even know you had left in you. It seeps from the corners of your lips, it coats your fangs as if in preparation.

Remmick grins. “Ohhh yeah, that smells good, don’t it?” He lifts his hand, covered in his own blood, taunting. “Poor thing like you ain’t have anyone to show ya the way. All alone out here, no idea what to do… let me help ya, darlin’.”

“Leave me alone.” You practically beg, trying to distance yourself from that god damn smell, clenching your teeth so hard they could shatter. Hunger claws at your insides, begging to come out, to get a taste of the meal in front of you, tainted as it may be. His blood smells rich with history, full of stories and different lives lived, laced with earth older than you could imagine. There’s something in your mind howling for just a drop of it, begging to know what something that ancient would feel like on your tongue.

For every step you take back, Remmick takes another forward, never letting you get far enough from that scent. “Aw c’mon now, I can’t let a sweet thing like you go to waste. It’ll be okay, baby, I promise.” He coos at you like a frightened animal, getting closer still. “You don’t have to be all by yourself no more. Don’t have to keep bein’ in pain.” There’s something about you that draws him in, that makes him want to know more, to tame that frenzied panic within you. He’s already decided he won’t let you waste away for a second longer, no matter how much you fight him on it.

Oh, you sure do fight him on it. As soon as he gets too close for your liking, you’re growling again, lunging at him. Your claws want nothing more than to dig into him, especially as he laughs lightheartedly. He stumbles back as your weight slams into him, as your hands reach for his face and neck. He moves with an inhuman speed and strength that you lack, easily gripping your wrists and keeping you at a safe distance. “Easy now,” he says, almost teasing, “don’t wanna hurt ya.”

His tone serves to piss you off more, and you use that anger and your final pump of adrenaline to struggle, to try and kick and hit, to burn off the rage that’s been simmering within you for two weeks. Remmick sidesteps you with a lazy confidence, watching you wear yourself out. There’s a point when his own claws just barely nick your arm like an accident, a thin strip of blood beading at the surface. It makes him pull back, his nose scrunching. “Whew baby, yer blood is potent.” He whistles, nearly wincing at the scent that makes his mouth water. It smells so human, not yet flushed out by feeding on other’s blood, by the wrongness of being a vampire. His eyes gleam. “Still got all that mortality in ya.”

With the grace of a cat, Remmick sweeps your legs out from under you when you try going at it again, leaving you to fall to the forest floor with an oof. You groan, your head pounding, your limbs feeling unbearably heavy, chest heaving. You go limp against the cool grass, your remaining energy at last spent, more than content to lay there until the sun comes up and burns you away. You hear a click of the tongue above you, Remmick looking down at you. “You done, sweet thing?” You don’t respond, making him huff. “Alright, c’mon,” he says, scooping you up by under your arms and forcing you back on your feet, “don’t die on me just yet.”

He nods towards the trees beyond. “Let’s go. Got somethin’ for ya.”

He starts walking without even looking back, like he fully expects you to follow him, like he knows you will. He’s right of course, and you find yourself stumbling after him without a second thought; it’s not like you have much else better to do than follow this weird, ancient vampire.

His steps are steady and light, traversing the forest with the experience of someone who’s done it hundreds of times. He barely rustles the bushes he passes, as if he doesn’t exist to the world around him, or he doesn’t want to disturb it lest it turn the wrong eye on him. You, on the other hand, make enough noise for the both of you. You can barely stay upright, your legs shaking, every tree root feeling like a death sentence.

The further you go, the stronger a certain smell gets. At first you think perhaps it’s Remmick’s wounds from you bleeding again, but they closed up a while ago. No, this scent is fresh and full of life and human. Hunger slams into you tenfold, sent into a frenzy at the idea of a true meal. You begin to hear noises too, garbled cries and pleas and sobs.

The undergrowth parts around you, leading you into a small clearing where blood has smeared across the grass, eerily illuminated by the moon above. Lying amidst it all is a young man, his clothes dirty and bloodied, his face bruised, and tears running freely. He’s on his stomach like he’d attempted to crawl away, drawing attention to the fact that both his Achilles tendons have been brutally sliced. When he spots you both, he goes into a full blown panic, begging and pleading for mercy. “No, no, no- please- I don’t know what I did just spare me please-“

“Oh hush up.” Remmick says roughly to him, grabbing him by the collar and dropping him against a tree, then keeping him there with a boot pressed into his leg. Remmick looks to you, nodding towards the guy. “Now I left this poor feller waitin’ all cuz of ya so ya best be nice and put him outta his misery”

You stand there confused for a moment, in disbelief at the fact that you’re being offered someone else’s meal just like that. Drool coats your chin, your fangs fully extended and sharp as razors, the hunger inside you howls. You know better than to reject a gift when it’s given to you so Remmick watches you with both intensity and fascination as you stumble forward, your lips already dropped open. The scent of blood coats the roof of your mouth, your eyes gleaming while the man struggles and sobs.

You fall to your knees in front of him, clawed hands coming up to shove his head aside to bare his untouched neck to you. You can feel the way his blood pumps beneath the skin, his heartbeat so loud in your ears you could mistake it for your own if you had one. There’s still something human in you that struggles against this, that screams at the horror of it all, but it’s ultimately drowned out by the desire and temptation. You can’t find it in yourself to apologize before you’re leaning in, before your teeth are sinking deep, deep into his flesh.

The man’s scream gets cut off, his body going still beneath you. When those first drops of blood hit your tongue you moan, the sound coming from you without control. It feels like a puzzle piece has finally been snapped into place, everything suddenly feeling so unbelievably right, despite your actions being so wrong in every way under the eye of God. That burn in your throat at last goes away, strength already returning to your limbs, your mind clearing with each gulp. Remmick grins, satisfaction and pleasure blooming within him just from watching you. He crouches down, his hand coming to pet through your hair, brushing it back from your face. “That’s it, good, good. Drink it all, baby.” He says in whispered awe.

You do just that. You take and take and take, sucking every drop of blood from the man’s veins until there’s nothing left to be given, until the flavor starts to lose its vibrancy. When you finally feel satisfied, you pull back with a loud pop and a tear, your fangs leaving one last mark by ripping some of his skin. Your breath comes in heavy, iron-tainted pants, your eyes bright and you feeling like you can think for once. The blood has made a mess of your front, smeared across the lower half of your face and down your neck to your chest, ruining your shirt. Your hands haven’t been spared either, the red running from the tips of your claws to your knuckles.

You look up at Remmick, at the creature who finally fed you, who gave you just what you needed without hesitation, who saved you. Where there was once alarms ringing, there’s now just whispers of devotion. Whispers of Remmick being safety, a provider, a savior. He sees that shift in you clear as day, something he’s seen countless times before—it’s just that this time he didn’t have to turn you himself for it to happen. It makes his smile widen, his red gaze lidded.

He takes your face in one hand, and this time you don’t flinch away from his touch. “Gorgeous.” He murmurs before his tongue is on you, dragging across your chin, collecting the combination of blood and spit in rough licks. You whimper under his ministrations and he swallows down that sound with his lips on yours, his kiss starved and desperate. He groans at the taste of blood, taking every bit he can from you, the weight of his body pressing hot and heavy against your own. He licks across your neck, teeth grazing purposefully along your skin as a tease for you and him both. There’s small nips when he can’t control himself, when there’s a spot properly drenched with blood.

The combination of the man’s human blood mixed with the scent your own is intoxicating, and if Remmick didn’t force himself to pull back, to exercise some form of self restraint, he believes he would’ve found himself with his fangs in your neck.

He sighs, running his thumb along the corner of his lip to clean off the drool that began to form. “Now let’s find another one ‘fore I eat your sweet self whole.” He says, voice low and scratchy at the edges.

You’re eager to follow him, to have him show you the way of this new life. You both leave behind the mangled body of the man, his blood now flowing through your veins and giving you the energy you’d been so sorely lacking. You feel reborn, fresh and rejuvenated, excited to see what else may lay on the moonlit path with Remmick as your eternal guide, neither of you ever being alone again.

[i-shall-abide]

[i-shall-abide]

can't stop thinking about how Remmick had a black eye after fleeing the Choctaw vampire hunters. Forget stakes and holy water and garlic; they were just straight up beating his ass

[i-shall-abide]

SINNERS 2025, dir. Ryan Coogler

[i-shall-abide]

Remmick x Male Reader drabble cuz I'm a filthy sinner and he won't get out of my head

"Come on darlin', let me in. You know I ain't gonna hurt ya."

He leaned against the door frame, lazy smirk on his face. His eyes roamed across your muscular figure, looking like a starved man. You knew he'd never hurt you, but it was still fun to tease.

Your hands fiddled with the buttons of your shirt, letting the clothing piece slide off of your strong arms and onto the floor. Your fingers rested on the waistband on your trousers, pulling them down ever so slightly.

"If you beg nice enough, I might just let you come inside."

The growl that left his throat echoed in your chest. The crazed look in his eyes telling you he understood your double entendre. You walked closer, just out of his reach, the barrier of your doorway acting as your only protection from him. Your eyes never left his as you watched him kneel on your doorstep.

"Please, baby? Please let me in. I promise I'll be good."

You swear you could see him twitch in his pants from here. Spit dribbled down his chin as his breathing became more ragged.

"Come and get me, boy."

[i-shall-abide]

no one loves a wrap around handjob as much as remmick does.

he's so needy, downright pathetic even. his back is up against your chest, your head rested on his shoulder, whispering dirty things into his ear that he can barely pay attention to. his eyes are squeezed shut as he tries to focus on the feeling of your soft hand twisting up and down his length. he's lubed up with his own saliva, you held out your hand and it was like instinct the way he spit into your hand. your thumb hits the underside of his tip with each stroke, you even slide it over his slit to hear him whine.

remmick went non-verbal from the very moment you began to palm him through his trousers. he leaned his head back on your shoulder and only responded in grunts and mumbled moans. he wailed when you first wrapped your hand around his cock, so far gone he couldn't form words. the room was silent except for the wet squelches of your strokes and remmick's heavy breathing.

"that feel good? hm?"

his brain didn't even register that you were asking him something, his response limited to open-mouthed groans. but you wouldn't let him get away with that. "cmon' answer me, remmick, use your words." you slapped his cheek a few times, bringing him back down to earth.

"fuck! yes- yes ma'am."

"there we go, that's a good boy."

his answer was rewarded with your grip tightening on his cock, making his hips buck up into your hand. pre-cum leaks out of his tip like a faucet you left dripping. he looked so pretty laid out against you, it was hard not to smirk while he writhed in your lap. your giggles and grins made his cheeks flush with rouge, pushing him even further to the ledge.

"sugar, please."

"please, what? you really need to use your words, baby."

your strokes slowed and he whined like a beaten dog, and if you looked at his face you'd see the tears sliding down his reddened face. "are you close? is that what it is?"

"yes! please, god, let me cum, i need it- i-"

remmick's stutters made you chuckle, he sounded so helpless and it only made you want to deny him more. you sped up your strokes a bit, returning to your original pace. "that's not my name, sweetheart. say my name and maybe i'll let you cum." he let out what sounded like a sob, along with a repeated mixture of "please" and your name.

"that's it, good boy. cmon'."

you egged on his orgasm while he continued to chant your name like a prayer. you were using both hands now, letting him buck into them while his back was arched to heaven. your lips left wet, open-mouth kisses along his neck while remmick's hips sputtered with his release, his hot cum dripping down your fingers. he was dumbstruck and exhausted, eyes shut and mouth hung open. but you weren't done yet.

you let go of his softening dick, letting it rest on his thigh. he let out a relieved sigh before you held your cum-covered fingers up to his mouth.

"open."

[i-shall-abide]

Attempting to look pathetic and endearing to one's sensibilities

[i-shall-abide]

call my meat a dead horse the way i hmm save as draft

[i-shall-abide]

[i-shall-abide]

MDNI

remmick doesn’t know when he started needing you to handle him. maybe it was the boredom of centuries spent being followed, obeyed. power doesn’t dilute; it calcifies. eventually it begins to turn inward. whatever the origin, if he had to name it, he’d probably trace it to the chain.

he’s always worn that chain around his neck. oxidised iron, darkened by age. you’ve touched it on hundreds of occasions, idly, looping it around your fingers while he lay beside you.

but when your mouth’s on his and your hand slips beneath his shirt, fist curling tight around the links before you pull—he steps out of himself, willingly. you don’t need to overpower him. you simply circumvent whatever mechanism he’s installed to keep himself upright. by the time you shove him onto the mattress, his stare’s gone unfocused and lust-glazed.

it’s laughable, how easily you undo him.

each time he thrusts up in pursuit of release, you tighten your grip on the chain, oil-black eyes roll in their sockets—wide, blown, starved. his head snaps back with a hoarse, involuntary groan. he finishes in near silence. slack-jawed, cock twitching residual spasms inside you, dumb awe creeping across his face like he can’t quite believe what you’ve done to him.

you’ve brought kings to their knees before, haven’t you?

no. just him.

[i-shall-abide]

Forgive me if I am ignorant of any BIPOC individuals reclaiming the term, but when I see stuff tagged “Southern Belle” my IMMEDIATE thought is, “oh this is a white supremacist”

[i-shall-abide]

Thinking about how Remmick could be caught off guard by someone lusting after him, the thought of him not getting much action for hundreds of years, with how touch-starved he probably is...

Then you come along, oblivious to the danger just in front of you, soft hands flirting with him. Poor Remmick just don't know how to take it. Plans of killing you thrown out the window as you wink, dancing your fingers over his taut skin.

Ughh I need this...

[i-shall-abide]

Another thought;

Saw way too many videos of folk bands and couldn’t stop thinking about this & there needs to be more Remmick + music content me thinks 🤓 || vampirism, light spiritual themes, 800 words

Remmick and his vampire lover don’t hunt in the traditional sense. You don’t go flitting through the woods chasing the scent of blood, nor do you go knocking door to door pleading for sanctuary. Instead, you play. Once the sun has set, you and Remmick will seek out somewhere dense with people, dense with those who have too much alcohol in their systems, who are drunk on the spirit of the moon and the warmth of a club. It makes it easy for them to ignore the way your eyes catch the light, the way something about you just isn’t quite right.

You find yourselves a nice spot to set up, far enough away from the businesses so that nobody can yell at you, but near enough so that the music carries. Remmick usually leads, beginning by strumming away on his banjo with deft fingers, making it easy for you to follow. You play along, your tune joining and twining with his and creating a beautiful, eerie melody layered with the stories you both share. The words find you instantly, your voice like a siren’s call, weaving the tale of a song Remmick has carried with him for centuries. Without fail, every time you sing, he’ll look at you like you hold the entire earth in your hands and he’s merely revolving around you. You captivate him just the same as any passerby.

Every night, people will join you. Sometimes it’s instant, sometimes it takes a few songs, but there will always be those who dance around you, listening to stories of far off lands or the familiar tunes they’ve heard in years gone by. It’s gorgeous how quickly folks come together to move their feet, to hum along to the rhythm you and your lover crafted. You can’t help dancing with them, your skirts twirling in pretty colors as you play and sing and laugh, joy thick in the air and sweeter than any blood.

Making music is when the two of you can truly be free. You can feel the way it lightens the burden on Remmick’s soul, musical notes lifting his weary mind as he works his banjo, as he listens to you and watches your lithe movements like it’s for him alone. With the way you two will dance and sing around each other sometimes, it really does seem like it’s only you and him, a shared fire of love burning fierce and strong between you. Then, some nights when the crowd gets so rowdy, when the music resonates so deep and true, you can see the way the world seems to shift, just edging that line between life and death. Remmick’s eyes will shine like the brightest stars, hope and desperation kicking in his chest in place of a heart as he plays until his fingers bleed.

It goes for hours. The ecstasy of humanity and fellowship keeps folks bound to your circle, keeps them sharing a drink and relishing in old songs that have crossed seas and mountains. It goes until the moon begins its descent, until people begin to grow truly weary and can barely stay upright. That’s when you’re able to strike, able to lure off a select few and drink their blood that buzzes like champagne, the undercurrent of fear heavy on your tastebuds. It’s akin to biting into a succulent peach warmed from the sun, its juice dribbling down your chin.

You and Remmick don’t stick around long after that. With blood smeared fresh on your fronts, you’ll go hand in hand through the fields or the forests, your trusty instruments slung across your backs and laughter on your lips, eager to find a place to hide until the moon next rises from her slumber, until she calls out to you to sing for her once again.

» ☆ «

Can’t write this without also thinking about the concept of a vampire band, of Remmick turning a group in his craze for that connection to the spirits, thinking that if he gathers enough people, if he makes them do it just right, the gateway will open. You’d watch as it never works out for him, the link between human and spirit severed the moment he takes their lives from them and instead makes them rough extensions of himself like branches on a tree. Failure after failure, too many vampires reduced to ash, and broken melodies leads to a sick desperation in Remmick. It makes him latch onto you even stronger as he realizes he just needs you. Just needs you to bring people in with your voice, to keep them dancing and singing to the stars above, to draw them in like moths to your light that shines even in death. He believes you can be the one to break the wall, believes the gods haven’t damned you the way they did him. It’s what drew him to you all that time ago.

Oh, he’ll keep trying, his stubbornness being the one thing he didn’t lose in all his years. He’ll keep trying to find that perfect chord, perfect soul, perfect tune, to finally shatter the barrier—and you’ll follow his lead just like every time before.

[i-shall-abide]

i wish irish people were real

[i-shall-abide]

One of the hottest videos of him