#Delilah bates

[nosostros]

So, like, I may be in the process of writing a book. Doubt it'd get published but I'm having fun

[outpost51]

Character Cuddle Scale

See? See I get to them eventually!! Tagged by @ceph-the-ghost-writer over here!

How-to: Rate your OCs based on how they handle cuddling/being cuddled.

I’m just grabbing ten, otherwise we’d be here all gd day 🫠 Naturally, we’re keeping it in the Arsonist Chronicles universe lest I lose focus on the second day of camp, and only the ones that are well known-ish? I’m prooooobably not doing this right. Based on a scale of 0 (cuddly as a cactus) to 10 (could be paid to cuddle professionally):

Zadimus: solid 8/10, he’s big and warm and smells like temple smoke and his wings are like a big blanket, the only problem is he’s. Him. Loses points for smug bastardness and the [insert phallic object] in his pocket that’s very happy to see you

Dillon: either 9/10 or -9000/10 depending on her mood. She’s small and huggable like a little teddy bear when she’s in the mood for it but Watch Out

Daisy: 10/10, she’s a little cold to the touch but she warms up nice and I think if you told her she could get paid to snuggle all day… well, she’d keep the dance studio but definitely do that in her off hours.

Cheryl: 8/10 +/- 2 points depending on if the werewolf thing is a perk for you or not. Like come on, that’s free mom hugs right there and she can become big ouppy

Moira: 6/10 tig ol bitties, smells nice, will be a menace though. Hates holding still for too long so unless she’s got something to occupy herself, you’re getting poked, prodded, noogied, wet-willied, and your butt’s getting jiggled at least once

Delilah: 1000/10, buddy what do you think she did before she fell, taxes? Hell no babey this cherub is soft and snuggly and smells like strawberries and cream

Jasper: -1000/10 prickly bastard fallen angel. Grompy. No touch, he contains many knives and also swords. And a crossbow on Tuesdays. Unless you’re Delilah.

Life: 10/10, yes cuddle mama life. Warm and made for huggin and snuggin

Death: 2/10, mostly because she stays far far far away from the living unless someone’s grief calls her loud enough. She’s still not very touchy, but for her wife? She accepts the snugs.

The Deep: 3/10. Soggy smarmy but not. Bad-bad. Just a menace. Bites. Might steal your wallet. Very touch starved. Plays with his food. Also comes with a risk of infecting yourself with Rot. Doesn��t happen all the time but is it worth it? You decide.

Tagging: @sparatus @thetrashbagswasteland @daisywalletchains @glitchinginthegarden @a-driftamongopenstars @writernopal @teamdilf @hornetofhallownest @aceouttatime and anyone who hasn’t done this yet?? Or has more characters to share??

[snoopyhq]

TYPE: Viktor x GN Reader

GENRE: Fluff

SCENARIO: Adopting a cat with Viktor <3

WORD COUNT: 797

SETTING: Modern day, essentially

A/N: Hi chat! So first post here for this silly little sideblog of mine, hehe. First time writing an x reader too, lowkey kinda nervy. This is very much a self-indulgent, impulsive 1 AM kind of work, so I hope you enjoy, Viktor Nation ⚙️💛 Requests are open! I pretty much will write whatever, within reason, so go wild <3 :3

BONUS! Picture of my kitty Delilah at the end <3 !!! I love her :3

“Are you excited? I am,” you said, killing the engine.

“Me too. Whichever we decide on, I know we’ll both love the creature,” Viktor replied.

In front of you was a quaint building tucked between two other shops in Uptown Square. It was the same building you both had been wanting to visit for quite a while, and today was the day.

The two of you have been talking about potentially adopting an animal, and now that life has fallen into a livable routine within your apartment, it was time to make the crucial decision.

You both quickly figured you were cat people, and it was easy to agree on going to the one of local cat caf��s to meet your future pet. Piltover Paws had a section in their website that showcased which cats were available for adoption, as well as brief descriptions of each one.

Lovey, a beautiful black-and-white kitten, had immediately caught your attention. Viktor, on the other hand, was drawn to Prism, a calico with a missing eye.

Even then, you were both open-minded to see how all the cats would intersect with you both.

The café staff were kind in their greetings. After rules were explained, you two were led to the cat room, which was separate from the café area. A chorus of curious meows immediately greeted you, and there were a couple other people who had booked the hour there too.

Viktor sat on one of the many plush couches scattered around the room, and you went off to mingle with some of the cats in the play area.

All the kitties were wonderful. You tried to remember which was which based on the photos you saw on the sight. Lovey, of course, had you wrapped around her paws immediately. Her purrs and chirps melted your heart, and as she batted at the toy you held out for her, you looked up at Viktor. He met your eyes and smiled softly. The sight of you melting over such an adorable critter would be one of his favorites for the rest of his days.

While you kept busy with Lovey, Viktor was observing Prism. The calico was hiding in a corner, away from the other cats. He was clearly shy, and nervous to approach. So Viktor waited. His patience proved fruitful, because Prism had slowly begun emerging, curiously sniffing at Viktor’s cane. He laughed to himself, letting the feline acquaint itself with him.

“Good kitty,” he whispered.

Slowly, he reached out his head towards Prism’s right side.

“You’re like a little puzzle piece of me,” he murmured. Prism allowed Viktor to gently pet him. His fur was soft as can be, his good eye closing halfway in contentment.

Soon, Prism had decided Viktor’s lap made the perfect napping spot. He was stuck to his seat, but he didn’t mind. When you walked over with Lovey trailing behind you and weaving in between your legs (the little troublemaker), a mutual agreement passed. You had to adopt both these kitties.

The application was filled out. The team explained they would be in contact with you two shortly to go over some general housekeeping and to ensure your home would be suitable for the cats.

The date was set.

You went home and began waiting with bated breath. While Viktor went to his study, you decided to pass some time to read some more of a recent novel you’d checked out.

It was around 6:30 when the call came through. Ten minutes conversing with the volunteer, and your adoptions were approved! You could come pick Lovey and Prism up anytime between 9:00 and 3:00 tomorrow, and you were eager to get there quickly.

By 9:30 the next morning, you two were well on your way home with the two new additions to your growing household. Prism remained quiet in his carrier, while Lovey chittered at every corner, much to your and Viktor’s amusement.

“Talkative, isn’t she?” he inquired.

“It was in one of her descriptions. Glad to see it’s true outside the café,” you answered.

“Much like you,” he teased. That earned him an annoyed huff, but the affection in your eyes dispelled any actual grievance.

“They’ll do well adjusting,” you said after a while.

The city was behind you now, the sounds of Piltover fading away. The carriers were set down and slowly opened.

Viktor watched Lovely immediately went sniffing around the living room, ducking beneath the couch. Prism slowly followed suit, making it a few steps before finding his way back to Viktor, nudging at his leg.

“I think they will,” he nodded, leaning down to pet him. “They’ll look lovely in future postcards, wouldn’t you agree?”

You couldn’t help but snicker at the thought. Holiday cards to Jayce and Heimerdinger, and any other friends, with photos of your cats in holiday gear and cheer? It was perfect.

“Absolutely.”

•• ━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━ •••• ━━━━ ••●••

here she is! my little diva 💜

[romana-after-dark]

Rooms on Fire: Everything We Lost In The Fire

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader

Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader

Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader

Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Madonna has to make a stand.

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

Extra warnings for chapter: Violence

2.2k words

A/N Please know tags have been spotty so check and make sure you're caught up! Also I am sick so sorry if the writing is mid lololol im trying.

"We don't have to wait for anyone to follow Burn all the yesterdays, give us our tomorrow Love is like a flame in our desire We'll have to sacrifice everything we lost in the fire." ~Everything We Lost in the Fire, Blue October

Wrapped up in Will’s arms, you try to focus on Francisco’s kisses, not the fact Will’s hands were on your breast, Ben’s mouth was on your cunt, or Santi’s body was incassing Francisco.

It had been nearly 3 weeks since Rey’s body was burned, and you were expected to pretend like nothing was happening. Pretend that after your baby is born, Santi won’t have you and Iris killed. Well, definitely Iris. Will had a way of convincing Santiago to follow his lead, and Will still seemed to love you… but Iris was certainly dead. It was probably Francisco and Will who convinced Santi not to kill her after the fire incident, that more stress would surely trigger something in your pregnancy… That was all Santiago cared about. Not you, definitely not Iris. Just the savior…

You wonder if he believes in the savior. You wonder if you even believe in the savior… You didn’t know what you believed, honestly.

Francisco’s tongue explored your mouth for the 100th time, and you tried to find solace in him but it was growing harder and harder as time went on. You felt alone, you felt like Iris was the only one who actually understood what you were going through. Sometimes, when your husbands were asleep, you’d sneak out to the servants quarters. You’d try not to think about Rey or Jonah’s rooms as you passed them, softly knocking on Iris’s door. She’d tell you to come in, and you’d find her in bed, usually crying.

 Carefully, you crawl into  bed with her, and just lay there. Sometimes you cry with her. Sometimes she holds you. Rarely, you talk. Iris would answer questions you had, truth of the attempted revolt as she knew it, Jonah’s affair with Delilah, Beatriz's murder, Jonah dancing at your fathers death. You knew you should hate Jonah, but something inside you continued that attachment. It wasn’t right, he’d tried to rape you, but it was so out of character for him… your brain struggled to make sense of these two versions of Jonah.

After a few hours, you get up and go back to bed with Will or Francisco. You weren’t allowed to be alone with Iris during the day anymore, so you spent most of your time with one of your husbands, and occasionally a guard. None of them were like Rey. They’d all seen him burned, his body beaten and slaughtered. No one wanted to be your friend.

You try to pretend it’s Francisco’s hands on you, you try to block out everything but him, but of course you aren’t that lucky.

Santiago grabs Francisco’s hair, yanking his mouth away from you and to his own lips, kissing him deeply and making Francisco melt in little moans. You can’t help the pang of jealousy that flares up around you. Benny notices too, pulling his lips away from between your legs and planting a sloppy kiss on Francisco’s asscheek, kissing his way to your lover's crack. Soon, you are all but forgotten as Santiago and Ben fight for Franisco’s pleasure.

Ben’s tongue is buried in Francisco’s ass, prodding deep inside the tight hole you’d fucked as well, making Francisco whine and buck as Santiago jerked him off, bringing him to orgasm. Francisco’s seed spilled out onto the sheets, white and sticky rope after rope as Francisco whimpered and moaned. 

Will’s body was firm against you, holding you close with one hand touching your body, the other fingering you and picking you up where Ben left you forgotten. 

You watch as Ben goes straight from ass to mouth, kissing Francisco hard and pulling him by his chubby cheeks away from Santiago. A battle for Francisco’s affection insured, the two men kissing Francisco every which way as Will brought you to orgasm with his fingers reaching around your large stomach.

“Look at our husbands, Madonna.” He murmurs softly in your ear, so soft you can’t help fall into him just a little. “Look how beautiful they are.”

And they were. Objectively, they were all beautiful, sculpted with perfect bodies and handsome features and so utterly obsessed with each other, the clawing at each others skin and biting of their lips didn’t matter. You watch as Santiago draws blood from Ben’s shoulder, a sharp reminder of his position without going too far to invoke Will’s wrath. Francisco clawing his nails down Santiago’s back. Ben edging Santiago’s cock but stopping him as the base, right before climax. You see the matching cuts on Francisco and Santiago’s arms.

They were beautiful. But you couldn’t see their beauty.

You saw Will, who killed Jonah. Jonah, who yes did something terrible to you but was still a father to you. Will, who controlled your every move, who made allowances for Santiago’s behavior again and again and again, who knew what Ben did to Iris but did nothing.

You saw Ben, a rapist who impregnated Iris, who killed Rey.

You saw Santiago, a psychopath who raped and burned you while pregnant, who was responsible for the distruction of so many lives here.

And Francisco, who let it all happen.

*

You fell asleep that night in Francisco's arms, the other retiring to their rooms. You slept with Frankie most nights, Santiago surely letting it go for now until he no longer needed you. What were these last 2 months when he could have an eternity with Francisco? You were deep in sleep, dreaming when something began to wake you. A hand on your mouth. You were certain it was the incubus again, you try to scream but the hand over your mouth is clamped on tight. You open your eyes to see Jonah’s face.

All attempts to scream, to move are fruitless as you wake up, writhing but you are held tightly around the waist, large hands holding down both of your own. Jonah -or the incubus taking his form- didn’t attempt to touch you, instead when you locked eyes with him they were wide with worry. Tired, dark bags under his eyes. You look down. It’s Francisco’s hands that are holding you.

Your body stills, tears forming in your eyes from fear and anger and confusion. Jonah isn’t dead.

Slowly, Francisco’s hand is removed from your mouth to let out a whimper as you turn around to see him. “What’s happening?” You cry to your husband, his soft face looking as scared as you are.

“We’re leaving.” He helps you sit up in the bed, then gets up, getting dressed in the light of the candle.

“No.” You shake your head, inching away from Jonah. “I’m not going anywhere with him.” Your voice is quiet, cracking with emotion as you try to wrap your head around it all. 

Iris’s voice speaks as she lights a candle now, revealing her face in the dark room. “It’s okay, trust me.” She uses your real name.

“But… but he… he tried too…” You couldn’t say the words.

Jonah was knelt at your bed, his eyes pleading for understanding. “I don’t expect you to forgive me for what i did honey. It was wrong. But please… I need you to know I would never, ever have violated you… it doesn’t make what happened any better but… I need you to know how it really happened.”

Shaking in bed, you look to Iris, the only face here you could trust for truth. “Just hear him out. I won’t tell you how to feel.”

Francisco gently tugged you out of bed, dressing you in warm clothing and putting socks and shoes on as Jonah told you what happened. He explained how Will made him a deal, a chance to get Iris out. How Will gave permission to rape you, but he swore up and down he’d kill himself before he took it that far, that he would never have touched you or hurt you, he just needed to scare you.

You couldn’t process this. Will was… Will. You didn’t trust him, but Will protected you! He’d never let someone hurt you to scare a lesson into you!

“No…” You say as Francisco ties your shoes. “No he wouldn’t let someone hurt me… he took a bullet for me!”

Iris shushed you harshly, but Jonah shook his head. “No, he didn’t. Melody was trying to kill Ben because he raped her. Honey…” He sighed. “Iris… she told me about the “incubus…” I thought you knew…”

You blink. “Knew what?”

“Will. He was coming into your room every night… I didn’t- Rey and I thought… we didn’t think he was doing it when you slept. I’m sorry.”

No. No, Will wouldn’t do that. Will wouldn’t take you while you were sleeping! Why would he do that when you were available to him all day every day? You remembered what Santiago said, that if the baby came out with blonde hair, there’d be a problem… When trying to conceive, Francisco was barely talking to you, and Santiago was angry at you the first time you didn’t end up pregnant… you were fill most days by the Miller brothers multiple times…

This baby was likely one of theirs.

“Madonna…” Francisco whispers wrapping his arm around your middle. “We have to go. We’re getting you and Iris out.”

*

Down the halls, you sneak, the four of you walking as quietly as possible and navigating where guards are posted, where the floors creak and moan the most, and how to avoid Ben or Santiago or Will. 

Your heart was beating a million times a minute, your skin on fire with fear, holding your belly. You needed to be brave. This was no life for your baby to grow up in, Santiago was not a parent to raise a child…

For the first time, you realize why your dad was willing to tear everything he knew apart to make a better life for you.

“This way.” Francisco motions, but Jonah stops, making you and Iris stop too.

Jonah whispers. “You said we were going this way? That way is past Ben’s room.”

“There was a change in the guards, Will has them all posted along that side now.”

“And you just now thought to tell me?”

“C’mon.”

Reluctantly, Jonah follows Francisco down the hall, right to Ben’s room where he stops.

“...Frank…”

But Francisco lingers on the door, hand brushing against the wood.

“Frankie, don’t.” Iris pleads, but you are frozen. Jonah grabs Iris, telling you to follow him but you’re frozen in place. He doesn’t see you not following, or he doesn’t care. His priority is Iris, and you can’t blame him for that. You watch in horror as Francisco knocks on the door, and Ben answers with a wide grin.

“Should’ve known you’d come knocking, baby…” He pulls him in for a kiss, pulling his pouty lower lips between his teeth but stopping when he saw you.

“Why is she here?” he says with disdain. It shouldn’t hurt, but it did. He was supposed to love you. He could be the father of your baby… He’s the father of Iris’s baby you remind yourself.

“Benny, Benny I need you to listen to me, okay?” Francisco pleads, his hands pawing at Benny’s baby face, begging for attention, for understanding and suddenly you know what he’s doing.

“Francisco…” You mutter, disappointment clawing at your throat, but both men ignored you.

“Frankie, what's going on?” Ben’s voice was soft and worried, that tender tone he only ever used on Francisco. He half chuckles, and it’s a nervous sound. “You’re scaring me here…”

A soft kiss to his lips. “We need to leave, okay? We gotta get Madonna out of here… she can’t be with Santi, he’s crazy, he’ll kill her.”

Ben shakes his head, laughing lightly in disbelief. “No way, man. We have a duty here. The savior, Santi-”

“FUCK Santi, Ben, I-” Francisco’s voice crack, holding Ben against the wall, his plush lips trailing the younger man’s skin. “Benny, please, I love you, I love you so fucking much. We don’t need him, we can just leave, we can start a new life… Jonah and Iris are leaving, we’ll be far away with Madonna long before anyone knows we’re gone… We don’t need anyone else, we only need each other… Please, please, please, just… come with me…”

Ben searched his face, blue eyes shining. He touched Francisco’s face with such tenderness you didn’t think possible from the hurricane of a man. Ben with Francisco was a totally different man.

But he was still loyal to Santiago above all else.

“Frankie, let’s just go talk to Santi-”

“No, Ben-”

“We’ll work this out, get Iris and Jonah back”

No, no they can’t have her. They can’t fucking touch Iris.

But Francisco just nods, closing his eyes. “Okay. Okay yeah, we’ll make this right.”

 “Francisco!” You are once again ignored.

Francisco closes in on Ben, caging him against the wall as he kisses him. “We’ll be together, right? After the savior is born, we can be together…”

“Yeah baby.” Ben kisses him back, arms wrapped around his thick middle. “Just you and me. We don’t need no one else.”

Francisco raises his hand to Ben’s neck and you think he’s going to caress his face… but then Ben’s movements halt to a stop. Then, a slow jerking of his body, and Francisco whispering, ‘I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry… I’m so sorry Benny’

Blood trickled down his arm, and as Francisco pulled away you see that Francisco slit his throat. He slowly lowers his lover’s heavy frame to the ground, the younger man’s body still jolting and a gagging, gurgling sound escaping his throat. Ben was dying silently, a complete opposite of the way he lived.

His body shook as the last blood spilled, and all Francisco could do was hold him and cry.

BEN IS DEAD!!!!!!

Also, JONAH IS ALIVE!

next chapter is our finale!!!

what do we think is gonna happen, girlie pops!!!

I have enjoyed so much writing this series, im getting emotional coming to the end!!!!

Love you all soooooo much!

If you like Logan Howlett, check out my new series Be Quiet

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[kingzombear]

Might as well bite the fuckin bullet for this one. We know only the name of ONE of the counselors' names (That one being the 'Cool Counselor' with her name being Billie which I have a feeling is some kind of reference to Billie Eilish especially with the horror material in her debut album, 'When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go?'). What about the names of the others? (Especially the 'Cute Counselor' which I'm more than willing to bet is named something somewhat southern like Millie or Bella)

Billie is actually named after Billy Loomis, one half of Ghostface in Scream (1996)! Her full name is Billie Prescott - her surname being that of the final girl, Sidney.

Cute Counciler was originally supposed to be named "Betty" as a female equivalent to "Bubba," aka Leatherface, but that was too close to Billie for me! I decided on Delilah Sawyer - "Delilah" after the famous American 90s radio DJ, and "Sawyer" being the Texas Chainsaw family's surname!

Sporty Counciler is either going to be named "Jamie Lee Myers" or "Michelle "Mikey" Strode" - I just can't decide!

Nerdy Counciler has me stumped! Patty Thompson?? Nancy Bates??? 💀 She's supposed to be a kind of fusion of American Psycho and Friday 13th!

[whatavery]

Malibu (Comm)

Stepping out of the car gave Mordecai a sense of relief he hadn't felt in months. The California heat was bad enough in itself, but it was like torture inside the car, even with the windows opened. Mordecai's driver didn’t seem to mind, but he was also dressed considerably lighter than he was. Despite the heat, Mordecai still dressed like a civilized man, though he had decided to opt out of wearing his jacket.

The car had come to stop by a strip next to a rocky mountainside, many cars parked all around them. Looking to the right of the road, Mordecai could see the ocean, hear the distant swooshing of the waves crashing up on the shore. The white beach was a nothing like the banks of the Mississippi River, the sky was more blue than he had ever recalled seeing it at home. People were walking on the beach, some were swimming, others were enjoying assorted frivolous activities on the sand.

Mordecai had rolled his sleeves up for his own comfort before he retrieved his suitcases from the back of the car and paid his driver. He turned the other way, gazing up at the hotel that was built into the mountainside. It was architecture like he'd never seen it before, which he found both strange and yet intriguing.

Once he'd crossed the road, Mordecai ascended the upwards sloping path leading up to the hotel where a sign with the hotel’s name greeted him – the Mariel Hotel. How wonderfully ironic. Perhaps it was Delilah's idea of a joke…. The hotel’s facade had the same color as the sands of the beach below. It wasn't a very tall building, and it was a far cry from the Maribel Hotel. Mordecai could hardly complain about that, given the feelings he'd come to associate with that place.

Each step up the path made Mordecai's heart beat faster; not from exhaustion, but from knowing he was being brought closer to her.

Once he'd asked at the front desk, Mordecai made his way to where her room would be – room 212. He climbed the steps to the second floor with bated breath. The building was nice, clean, and well maintained, the open windows allowed a lovely draft could keep it cool. Suitcases in hand, Mordecai's green eyes traced over the doors on the left side of the hallway.

202… 204… 206… He counted in his head, and by the time he stood in front of her door, his heart was racing. Mordecai hesitated for only a moment before knocking.

“COME IN, IT’S OPEN!” Mordecai gave a start, his fur standing on end when he heard Delilah shouting at the top of her lungs from within. Looking scandalized, Mordecai opened the door and stepped into her room. It was a quaint little space, though Delilah had left it in quite a state. Every chair there had a dress or other article of clothing draped over it. Did the idea of folding and storing her clothes elsewhere never occur to her?

“Mordecai?” he heard her voice from the closed door that no doubt led to the bathroom, accompanied by splashing.

“Yes, it’s me,” he responded as he put his suitcases down by the front door. He looked around her messy room.

“You’re here a whole two minutes after you said you'd be here – you’re startin’ to get sloppy,” he heard her calling in a playful voice as he set about tidying up. The wardrobe near the windows overlooking the mountainside would hold her dresses as he put them on hangers. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Actually, I arrived at the hotel before then,” Mordecai noted calmly. He still remembered being able to call her for the first time shortly after arriving in California. Hearing her voice then had been like a reunion in itself. Hearing it now through her bathroom door, as odd as it was, made Mordecai feel infinitely more relaxed.

“How was the journey?” Mordecai had settled near the window by the time Delilah made an appearance. The tuxedo cat turned and gave a start, immediately averting his gaze as she wore nothing but a towel around her body. He heard her chuckling as she went to get dressed. “What was it like to fly?”

“Long, tiring, horrendously unpleasant for the most part, actually… Especially flying…” he replied in his driest of tones, trying to purge the mental image of the lovely Siamese like that. Granted, he had seen her in rather… bold dresses before. He sighed and felt the corners of his mouth tug themselves upwards, despite himself. His heart skipped a beat as he almost gasped, “But it was worth it.”

---

Mordecai… did not like this. Sure, having Delilah by his side was nice, even if he wouldn't normally enjoy someone holding onto his arm this way. That wasn't even the worst part – the worst part was walking through the sand barefooted. He didn’t like the way the sand scorched the soles of his feet or the way the tiny grains got between his toes and stuck in his fur.

But for her, he'd put up with it.

Seagulls were sailing over the blue waves on thermal winds, and they had passed several people. The bright sand reflected the sunlight so much that Mordecai found himself squinting. Delilah had taken to wearing sunglasses along with a thin, red beach dress. It had a golden pattern on the front that reminded Mordecai of the details one might see on a circus ringmaster’s attire. He supposed it was fitting for her as a performer. A large, flowing sunhat rested upon her curly, red locks, whereas Mordecai hadn't changed attire, save for removing his shoes and socks at her behest.

“Is it always this hot out?” Mordecai asked as they passed another couple, who was playing around in the surf. Despite the cool ocean breeze, the sun’s merciless warmth was quite unbearable, given that there wasn't a single cloud in the sky. Malibu truly was beautiful, even if he wasn't so sure he preferred it over St. Louis. He was no stranger to the sea, having lived on the East Coast, but beaches like this were new to him.

“It is on most days. I like it, though,” Delilah said, giving his arm a squeeze. Looking her over, Mordecai had to admit, she seemed to have adjusted quite nicely to the West Coast life. He supposed a southern girl would. She looked more at home here than in St. Louis. She seemed happier than he remembered her…

“And you’re staying in this hotel?” Mordecai cast a glance over his shoulder towards the Mariel Hotel in the distance. He wasn't sure he liked the idea of Delilah here all by her lonesome. He knew she could take care of herself, but a hotel hardly seemed like the most stable living conditions.

“Oh, it’s only temporary,” she reassured him, before guiding him along. “I’m saving up for something more permanent. I only do big shows now, Mordecai – not singing in hotels like I used to, or…”

“The other stuff…” They had never actually talked about that much, but Mordecai had known about her side business, thanks to her former boss. He didn’t like thinking about that more than he had to, but he just nodded. “Do you ever…?”

“No.”

“Oh. Good…” Delilah gave Mordecai a funny look when he responded. He felt his cheeks flushing under his fur, but he chalked that up to the heat all around. If he were actually blushing in this heat, surely he'd have a heatstroke… Despite himself, Mordecai gently relinquished his arm and instead took her by the hand. “You deserve better…”

Hand in hand, they continued down the beach, though Mordecai nearly dropped his shoes in surprise when the surf touched their feet. The sudden coolness of the water certainly made him jump, and gave Delilah a good laugh.

By the time they returned to the hotel, the sun had started to set finally. Walking up the beach with Delilah, Mordecai could swear the sun’s last rays seemed to make the red tones of her fur and her hair stand out all the more, like she was glowing.

Waking up beside Delilah was… a strange feeling. Though they simply slept, it was a feeling Mordecai didn’t think he'd ever get used to. He knew their time together was fleeting, but he tried to make the most of the few days they had together. The second day flew by, however. They drove into town together and spent the entire day there.

Over dinner at a restaurant, Mordecai realized that spending time with Delilah again was simultaneously the best and the worst thing he could think of. While he enjoyed their time together, just walking and talking, the knowledge that he would be leaving again soon…

Mordecai tried his best to push those thoughts from his mind. It wasn't until they went to bed that night that the thoughts came back to him again.

“Delilah?” he asked the darkness as he listened to the distant sound of the waves crashing up on the beach. It was faint, much like the sound of Delilah's breathing, but he could hear it clearly through the open windows.

“Mordecai?” she asked playfully. He could hear her turning on the mattress they shared. He turned to look at her in the dark, barely able to see her outline, hear her breathing, feel her gaze upon his own silhouette.

“What if… How would you feel about if I stayed for another few days?” When Mordecai didn’t get an answer, he felt himself panicking slightly. “I could just stay in town. I don’t mean to impede on your work, or get in the way, but…”

He stopped when he felt Delilah's kiss on his cheek, felt her barely clad form wrapped in the thin blanket press up against him. Words failed him as she took his hand in the dark. She said nothing, but he knew what that meant.

Mordecai didn’t fall asleep immediately, he stayed up, thinking. What if he did do it? What if he just stayed here and didn’t go back to St. Louis? Could they make that work? He could get a job here, surely… something more stable and proper than the work he did for Marigold, surely. But would she even want that? Did Delilah want him to throw everything he had away for her?

When they walked along the beach the next day, Mordecai grasped her hand so tightly he had to keep himself from accidentally hurting her. He felt like a young man again, a runaway on a train, trying to frantically put his mind at ease while sensing danger behind every turn. Today, he wasn't running from a person, but from time itself.

Whenever Mordecai gazed upon Delilah, he was both reminded of why he had come here, and why he didn’t want to leave. Traveling back and forth was a Herculean task that Mordecai wasn't sure he cared to repeat too frequently, though getting to see Delilah was more than enough to make up for it… but was it sustainable?

They didn’t walk far along the beach today. Mordecai guided Delilah to the water’s edge where the waves caressed their feet, the damp sand feeling considerably more pleasant than the warmer sand further up the beach.

When Mordecai finally found himself in the car, he felt as though no time had passed at all. He felt as though he had just arrived in Malibu minutes ago and was already leaving. Mordecai wished he had it in him to make a decision and tell her that he was staying whether she liked it or not. But who was he to say that? He had his own job, his own responsibilities… This had been but a small respite from all of that.

“Wait…” Mordecai told the driver, before he stepped out. Delilah hadn't gone anywhere, thankfully. He moved to her and embraced her, despite himself. Every instinct in his body was fighting him, but he wanted to show her this last act of warmth, before he left.

He knew this was the last chance he would ever get to say anything, but as he pulled back and looked at her, Mordecai noticed how shiny her eyes were. She was even trembling slightly in his arms, despite the warmth.

Mordecai couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He realized that saying nothing was showing her mercy; he didn’t want to make this harder than it already was for her. But even as he stared into those watery, blue eyes, he knew there was no need.

They both knew, even if neither of them had ever spoken those three words to the other.

[tac-the-unseen]

Slasher Co. Employee page

CEO:

Niki Dreadwood

Committee:

Heaven

Hell

General managers:

Esmeralda Lace

Delilah Fletcher

Human Resources:

Director- Frank N furter

Specialist- Luda-Mae, Carrie white

Psychiatrist:

Hannibal Lecter

Recruiters:

Will Graham

Patrick Bateman

Housing department:

Norman Bates

Norma Bates

Cleaners:

Grayson Cooper

Security:

Audrey 2

Florist:

Seymour Kerlborn

Local Menace:

Art the clown

This AU is free for people to join in the discussion and make content for this world. Make Oc's, art, or ideas till your hearts content using #SlasherCo tag to keep all the content easy to follow on Tumblr. I'm excited to see what comes from this adventure.

[manyfandomocs]

Riverdale OC Masterlist

Name: Annalise Ryan

Fic: Bubblegum Bitch

Love Interest: Toni Topaz

FC: Mimi Keene

Name: Atticus Bardot

Fic: Aftershocks

Love Interest: Jughead Jones (Santiago Lodge in the best verse)

FC: Nicholas Galitzine

Name: Belladonna Callow

Fic: Daughter of Silent

Love Interest: Cheryl Blossom & Toni Topaz

FC: Dove Cameron

Name: Delilah Curdle

Fic: These Violent Delights

Love Interest: Poly Teen Serpents

FC: Kat Dennings

Name: Derek Wallis

Fic: Price We Pay (To Feel)

Love Interest: Reggie Mantle

FC: Gregg Sulkin

Name: Francesca Jones

Fic: Apathy

Love Interest: Sweet Pea, Reggie Mantle, Veronica Lodge endgame (maybe also Archie Andrews)

FC: Sofia Black-D'Elia

Name: Genevieve Sterling

Fic: Sterling Silver

Love Interest: Hiram Lodge, eventual FP Jones

FC: Elizabeth Gillies

Name: Katherine Keller

Fic: Kids In America

Love Interest: FP Jones

FC: Neve Campbell (older) Kaia Gerber (younger)

Name: Lila Hampton

Fic: Drama in the Futile

Love Interest: Archie Andrews, Sweet Pea & Fangs Fogarty

FC: Peyton List

Name: Lorelai Cooper

Fic: All The Lonely People

Love Interest: Sweet Pea

FC: Taylor Momsen

Name: Quentin Bates

Fic: Song Inside of Me

Love Interest: Toni Topaz

FC: Joshua Bassett

[wc100playlist]

4. Plain White T's - Hey There, Delilah

It's 2:23AM and I'm pacing through my father's living room, phone in hand, my eyes bleary. In less than a month, I'll be off to University, where I'll discover how easy it is to stay up for days on end when motivated by caffeine and the rhythm of youth, but for now, I'm nearing my limit. I feel a psychic pull from the room on the right at the end of the hallway wherein lieth my bed with bated breath, brimming with dreams at the thought of my return to it. The tug towards it is terrible, and soon my murky mind turns me to follow it.

buzz

A cartoon ghost rings the doorbell to my phone. I blind myself by blue light to see that yes, it is her. Specifically, it's her hand in a peace sign and a bar of text saying, "He'll probably just text back tomorrow. I'm sleepy. Goodnight." I send black screen with a cursive "Good Night Calypso," which she opens immediately. That empty red arrow sends a shiver up my arm and a realize that sleep won't be so easy a thing tonight.

______________________________________________________________

According to various articles and my personal brand of hearsay, Tom Higgenson wrote "Hey There Delilah" after having a meet-not-so-cute with Delilah DiCrescenzo, a now-nationally-ranked runner, at a friend's party. Apparently, Tom told her he already had a song written about her, and played the track for her the week thereafter. Delilah, having a boyfriend, politely declined his advances. The two remained friendly enough that, when "Hey There Delilah" was nominated for a Grammy in 2007, Delilah herself put in an appearance on Tom's invitation. To my knowledge, their association ends there.

______________________________________________________________

I met her at the tail end of orientation. She was sitting on a rock outside the student union building. She wore bell-bottoms and a hippie T--at least, she does in my head. So many details slip like sand through my fingers and out of my ears, details I I could have sworn would be burned into my mind forever. It is, perhaps, my chiefest regret to not remember fully the scenes that shape the landscape where my soul treads.

I almost walked past her. She had been in the small group of Liberal Arts students in a computer lab ten minutes previous, and something in the way she spoke to the admissions counselor about her planned courses irked me. Unfortunately, I think that's why I found myself talking to her. She scared me, otherwise: she looked like she could look me in the eye and pick out my flaws like a stork plucks salmon from a river. That little touch of roughness at her edges unwound a binding in my brain and let me be bold in a way only fool boys can be--that is, in the smallest way. I said, "Hello."

For the rest of the summer, we carried on the conversation that we started at the rock. I called her Calypso. I'd steal moments during work to shoot off what I hoped was a clever quip; she'd send pictures of her shoes and make wild statements about her day. We'd skip from "how was your shift?" to "what makes you cry?" to "what's you're comfort food?" in about as many texts. I still remember some of her answers, though I expect they've changed since then. Mine have.

Often, we'd stay up late texting. She's an early riser, but her boyfriend at the time rarely responded in daylight hours. I tried to keep her company while she waited, and she didn't turn me away. She considered us friends, and did for a long while, even after our Freshman year started, even after she got to know me in person, even after I told her--via Snapchat video messages, the worst way known to man--that I'd been head-over-heels for her since that damn rock outside the union, even after she had to turn me down. She even managed to look past me asking her to turn me down again twice thereafter, as a reminder of where we stood.

I don't know if we were friends. I don't know if I'm capable of being friends with someone I can't look at without my heart rate rising ten percent. It's not for lack of trying: I gave it a three year run. If I was her friend, I think I'd have let myself drift away much earlier. That might have saved me some heartache, or at least some face. It might have saved our mutuals exasperation, and her the stress of dealing a dumb puppy of a man who lacks the courage and wit to make his exit when the music plays.

I last spoke to her in the Fall of 2022. We walked in the state lands with her dog and said a great many things that matter very little. A better send-off than I expected, honestly. I last saw her Fall 2023; she and her fiance attended the same showing of a stage play as I--a cruel joke by Dionysus on his least faithful priest. I can only hope she didn't see me, or if she did, she didn't recognize me. If she saw me, I hope she only saw a stranger trying not to cry.

[honorhearted]

For once, Benjamin felt calm, tranquil while lying there alongside his wife-to-be. He remained curled up on his side, hugging his pillow against his cheek while she read:

“And she made him sleep upon her knees; and she called for a man, and she caused him to shave off the seven locks of his head; and she began to afflict him, and his strength went from him.”

"Poor ol' bastard," Benjamin mumbled, his eyes fluttering drowsily. "I know a thing or two about being 'afflicted.' I'm afraid there's nothing that can be done about it."

Alice hummed. “Why wouldn’t Samson have realized that Delilah was deceiving him if he’d told her three separate lies about the secret to his power, and three separate times men came to take that power? Wouldn’t he have correlated the incident somehow?”

"Because he loved her," Benjamin replied simply, his voice muffled. "When you love someone, you only see the very best in them...it's almost impossible to witness any faults." Curling in toward her stroking fingers, he finally rolled over and beheld her with fond, sleepy eyes. "In life, it's the ones we love who hurt us the most, because they're the only ones capable of getting in close enough to maim."

“Love is truly blind, I suppose.”

"Indeed," Benjamin agreed, catching her hand and kissing her palm. "How fortunate for me then, that God blessed me with a woman of true warmth and kindness." Brushing his lips over her knuckles, he added, "When do you plan on speaking to Mrs. Bates? I'd like to prepare a false letter, just in case she asks for any past correspondence. If she wants more proof, you can claim that in order to be safe, you burned all the other letters."

He was clearly exhausted. Who knew how much sleep he’d gotten in the last week alone? There were nights he didn’t come to bed at all. While Alice scolded him for this, she also knew it couldn’t be helped. He was an important man with an important job – a job that provided her with intel. So, despite missing him beside her at night, she understood it was a necessary sacrifice for them both. 

"Perhaps instead, we can claim the letter is from a friend in York City...a loyalist sympathizer. The two of you have been writing off and on for weeks, if only to stay abreast of the politics and general goings-on of the conflict." 

Alice offered an encouraging nod, but Benjamin could only frown. 

“If we can convince Mrs. Bates that the intelligence is real, then perhaps she'll give you other things to forward along to your 'friend' in New York."

“Darling, it sounds like the beginning of a decent plan, but you’re straining. Please, take a break and we’ll revisit this in the morning.” 

He squeezed her hand and she responded by gingerly kissing his fingers. 

"Perhaps you're right. Already, I've devised bumbling attempts that easily could've endangered your life. I cannot and will not allow that to happen again,” he flashed that familiar sheepish smile, “But...it is difficult for me to turn everything off, I must confess. I find myself above all possible distraction."

With a tsking click of her tongue, Alice moved to stand in front of him and cradle his face, “Oh, my diligent soldier,” she cooed, softly kissing his brow, then his lips, “Rest assured, even the British aren’t immortal. So you can allow yourself a night of guiltless sleep. And besides…” 

Here, she kissed him a little more ardently, her tongue toying with him for but a moment before pulling away with a pleased little smile, “I can think of a few ways to effectively distract you.”

---

Later, in the privacy of their quarters, after she’d successfully ‘subdued’ her husband-to-be, Alice took her bible from the nightstand. There, with fire in the hearth to keep them warm, she sprawled out on her stomach and opened to the bookmarked page. Their blanket, while covering part of her, was easily sliding off of her as she kept her legs curled and her foot idly bobbing while she skimmed the page with her index finger.

Their latest chapter was found in Judges, about the false romance between Samson and Delilah.

“And she made him sleep upon her knees; and she called for a man, and she caused him to shave off the seven locks of his head; and she began to afflict him, and his strength went from him.”

Alice hummed in thought, using her fingers to keep the book from completely closing as she pondered the story and used her free hand to trace along whatever part of Benjamin she could reach, “Why wouldn’t Samson have realized that Delilah was deceiving him if he’d told her three separate lies about the secret to his power, and three separate times men came to take that power? Wouldn’t he have correlated the incident somehow?”

Regardless of his answer, she simply sighed with a shake of her head, “Love is truly blind, I suppose.”

As blind as Samson after the men gouged out his eyes, robbing him of both strength and sight. Delilah, having accomplished her mission, was paid in bountiful silver. The woman had chosen wealth over romance.

[nosostros]

was listening to old crooner music while drawing this

[beingallelite]

SaboWrestling- 3 days left to take advantage of our 4th of July sale. Use code USA at checkout to save 20% on tickets!

Front row includes meet & greet with Leva Bates, an event poster, series 6 of our trading cards & a special surprise event gift!

🎟: Sabotage-Wrestling.com/tickets

[wrestlingmgc]

Shimmer Tag Team Champions Totally Tubular Tag Team 

[sarahssspam]

misha/del parallels

[flutteringphalanges]

                                    Don’t Let the Bats Bite

Summary: After decades spent together in England, Agatha, now vampire and wife to Dracula, has maintained a distance from her family members. Even though secretly she has wondered about them. It isn’t until she hears a report that an accident has taken the lives of her great nephew and niece-in-law and left their two year old daughter, Zoe, an orphan that she steps in and, against the Count’s wishes, brings the toddler into their unusual life. Will their vampiric ways conflict too much with parenthood, or is Zoe Van Helsing their missing link to perfection?

Ship: Agatha/Dracula

Rating: T

Chapters: 1/2 (or 1/3) 

Read on AO3

A/N: Originally, this was just going to be a one shot, but I felt like doing it in parts because I felt weird just being one long thing. So a few parts it shall be. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! -Jen

                                                         Part One

“Up!” Dracula stared down incredulously at the demanding two year old. Her name, according to what they could dig up in documents, was Zoe. Zoe Van Helsing. His however many grands niece by marriage to Agatha. During their near century in England, his vampiric bride silently withheld her desires to learn of her family’s presence. For their sake and safety. 

But like with many unplanned events, everything changed that fateful day when it was broadcasted over the news that a fatal car accident had taken the lives of Richard and Delilah Van Helsing, leaving their now orphaned toddler in its wake. Her decision was made right then and there. Even before the reporter finished his segment. And Dracula found himself caught between a rock and a hard place. 

“We cannot care for this thing, Agatha.” The vampire frowned as the little girl tried to claw her way up his pant’s leg. “We are vampires. We simply aren’t equipped to deal with...this.” Zoe let out a grunt of protest when the man peeled her off of him. “We should return her to Child Protection. Perhaps a social worker can figure something out.” 

“Zoe isn’t a thing. She’s a child. Need I remind you that she is family?” Agatha frowned, going over to the child and scooping her up. “Your family nonetheless. She has no one, Dracula. Just us.”

“Well perhaps she should be placed with a human family!” The Count argued with exasperation. “You didn’t even discuss this with me. You went about forging documents and somehow, despite the system, we’ve been granted custody of a practically helpless being!” He began to massage his temples. “Manipulating Frank Renfield to do our bidding is supposed to be my job, not yours.” 

It was almost unnerving that, even at her young age, the girl resembled her distant aunt so much. The blues of her eyes. The rich brown locks of her hair. If anyone didn’t know any better, perhaps she could easily be passed off as their biological offspring. How truly odd genetics were. Zoe watched Dracula with a curious expression, one that was slightly more appealing than Agatha’s glare of animosity.

“She stays with us.” The former nun declared firmly, glowering at her lover. “End of discussion.”

Agatha’s frown faded away into a warm smile as her attention turned to the toddler. Gingerly, she tucked a few stray strands of hair that had fallen from one of Zoe’s pigtails behind her ear. The child had only been with them for a few hours and already the vampire’s maternal instincts had blossomed. It was evident how much she adored the child, something her husband had yet to understand. 

“I took the liberty of making a list of things we need for the house.” Agatha said, adjusting Zoe in her arms. “I was hoping you’d be willing to go out and buy them.” 

“And you thought this why?” Dracula inquired, folding his arms. 

“Because I assumed you’d rather do that than stay at home watching her.” His wife replied, throwing him a look. “Zoe’s been through a lot. I don’t want to drag her around to various shops. I promise it isn’t too much. Just a crib, some child locks, baby gates, a high chair, more nappies, a few outfits--I have her size listed, and a few other things. It shouldn’t be hard.” She ignored the stare of disbelief Dracula was giving her. “Once we’ve had some time to settle down, we can really go about setting a nursery up.” 

A nursery. The infamous Count didn’t want to question as to which room they’d be turning that into. He knew. And even if he argued against it, Agatha would win. She always did. His prized artwork and treasured statues would be moved else---god forbid the closet. This was why he had never desired children even as a human. They were needy. Required things. Like his study. 

“Nothing should require this much work.” He muttered under his breath, knowing full well that Agatha could still very much hear every word. Begrudgingly retrieving his long trench coat, a gift from his wife no less, Dracula briefly glanced over his shoulder. “And where might I find this list of yours?” 

“The counter.” She replied curtly, nodding her head in the direction. “It’s getting late so try to be quick about it if you can. Stores close earlier on Sundays, you know.” 

“I’m well aware.” The vampire responded, snatching the note from its spot. “I’ll retrieve what I can.” 

“Thank you.” Agatha said with a small smile. “We will be waiting with bated breath.” To which she received a grunt in return. Rolling her eyes, Agatha’s attention returned to her niece once her husband had vacated the premises. “Uncle Dracula can be rather grumpy.” She chuckled, kissing the girl’s forehead. “Don’t worry, you’ll win him over. Just wait and see.” 

                                                        XXX

1897 had been a monumental year for Dracula for many reasons. Most importantly, it was when he met Agatha--though the circumstances were far from favorable. After the massacre of St. Mary’s Convent, he had decided to spare the nun for his own curiosity. A new bride of his own demise. Agatha, of course, had other plans. And after a failed attempt of killing him, she came up with the brilliant idea to end herself. Not a stake. No, lesson learned from Jonathan Harker, but the Sun. Second momentous memory--well, discovery--apparently that bright, burning star in the sky wasn’t so deadly after all. 

Something changed between them after that. The toxicity that had once embedded itself in their relationship began to drain away and soon new feelings surfaced. Happy, warmer feelings. Brighter than the Sun itself. And within a few years, hatred became love. And with that romance, became a partnership. Marriage. A life far from Transyvania and into Whitby, England. 

Though they could go out during the day, the two still seemed to prefer the nightlife. It was peaceful. Quiet. And watching the sunrise together before tucking away to sleep for a few hours did them both good. But now all of that was going to change. Or so he felt was implied by the list gripped between his clawed fingers. 

“First one?”

A friendly voice pulled Dracula from his thoughts and away from the crib he’d been mindlessly staring at. Turning, he saw a rather young man, red hair and equally warm green eyes behind wood framed glasses. Part of him considered the idea of dragging the innocent bystander out into the back alleyway and feasting upon him. But he knew well enough Agatha would somehow figure out he’d killed someone. She always did. Oh how he despised this humane sourcing of blood system they had going on with Frank Renfield’s connections. It took the fun, the rush out of it all. 

“If you would call it that.” He replied tonelessly. “Unplanned.” 

“Ah, so many of them are. But isn’t that the excitement of it all?!” The stranger grinned, clearly not picking up that his company was unwelcomed. “Do you know what you’re having?”

“A girl.” The vampire replied curtly. “She’s two.” 

“Oh, adoption!” The man sounded somewhat confused. “Were you not expecting it to happen so soon or…” He shook his head and smiled. “Well, way to go, mate! It takes a special kind of person to do something like that. Why--”

Dracula’s jaw set in frustration. “Look,” he began. “You seem nice. But I simply do not have time, nor do I wish to, discuss things with you such as babies and the happiness of parenthood. I’m here by request of my wife. I’d like to be in and out of here as quickly as I can. My best wishes to you and your partner. May your rugrat be tolerable.” 

It was the best sort of well wishes he could give. Lifting up a crate of cradle parts as if they weighed as much as a mere feather, he set them roughly in his cart before striding off. The faster he could get out of the damned place, the better. The cheerfulness of it almost made his stomach churn. Pink, spill-less sippy cups. Various stuffed plushies with big, beady black eyes. And a few large packs of nappies--though his eyes stared fixated at a purple potty chair. He didn’t want to think about training a child to use that. That, he decided, would be Agatha’s doing. 

“All set?”

Unlike the overexcited customer he had just run into, the cashier looked tired. Disinterested in all that was around her. Dracula didn’t mind her lack of emotion as he loaded the contents of his cart onto the conveyor belt. She didn’t share her excitement at the fact he possibly had a new kid, or bombarded him with questions on the subject. Instead, she quietly scanned everything and placed it back into the basket. 

“Have a nice night.” The woman said through a wide yawn, handing the vampire his receipt. “Come back to see us soon.” 

The wheels of the cart whined as he rolled his cargo across the pavement and to his cart. It took a bit of maneuvering, but by some stroke of luck, he managed to squeeze everything inside. Hopefully Agatha would deem the ride fit enough for a child to be in. It did have a back seat after all. That had to be good enough, shouldn’t it?

Agatha wasn’t there to greet him at the door when he arrived home. Nor did she help him unload the very stuff she had asked for. Instead he found her lying comfortably in their bed, the toddler fast asleep curled up at her side. She held a finger to her lips as he entered their room somewhat perturbed by the stranger in his spot. Surely he wasn’t secretly jealous of a two year old. He wasn’t that juvenile. 

“We’ll sit her up in her own room tomorrow.” The former nun whispered as not to wake the toddler. “For now, I see no reason for her not to sleep here. Poor thing is exhausted after all. Went right down not too long after you left.” 

“I got everything you asked for.” Dracula replied, leaning against the wall. “You wouldn’t believe how much it cost.” 

“We have the money, Dracula.” Agatha countered softly. “Much more than anyone in Whitby, perhaps even most in England. I proved to be quite the accountant when it came to managing our money--not to mention Frank Renfield’s services are rather useful. We will be fine with just one more.” She smiled down at Zoe. “You and I have had many adventures, my love. This is simply another one.” 

“A different kind of permanent one.” Her husband muttered quietly. “I’m going to the fridge. How opposed are you to me having the dentist tonight? It’s AB Positive.” 

“Take it.” She said with a wave of her hand. “I prefer O anyway. If you could heat up either some of the ethics professor or the banker--if we still have some left, I’d much appreciate it. And it doesn’t have to be the perfect temperature, just nothing below lukewarm.” 

Her husband nodded in understanding before turning on his heels and exiting the room. Agatha’s eyes followed him until he disappeared from sight. Apparently, this was all going to take a lot more getting used to that she thought. 

                                                      XXX

After a few days, the nightmares started and Zoe often woke up screaming for her parents. It didn’t matter what they were doing--whether it be having a nice, quiet moment to themselves or in the thralls of passion, Agatha would tear herself away from her husband and rush into their adopted child’s room. Dracula sighed as his wife brought the tear streaked face toddler into their sitting room right in the middle of their game of chess. 

“Want Mummy and Daddy!” The little girl wailed. “Want Mummy and Daddy!” 

“I know, I know…” Agatha attempted to soothe, rubbing the girl’s back. She looked to Dracula in almost desperation as if maybe he had a solution to all of this. “Aunt Agatha and Uncle Dracula promise to make all of the bad dreams go away.” 

Zoe sniffled and looked towards the Count. “Bye bye, dark!”

The man’s brows furrowed. “What does she mean?” 

“Bye bye, dark!” The girl insisted, her volume rising. “Bye bye, dark!” 

“Perhaps she’s afraid of the dark?” Agatha inquired, eyeing her niece curiously. “We should consider installing night lights around the house.”

“Agatha, we are creatures of the night!” Dracula groaned. “Certainly she can learn to adjust to the nighttime as we did. She sleeps through most of it!” But the look on his wife’s face told him everything. “Fine.” He said, tone almost cold. “But I get to decide what they look like and where they go.”

A decision, he came to, that involved the famous superhero “Batman”. It seemed only fitting to fix the well known symbol of a black bat surrounded by a halo of yellow within the various sockets in their home. He’d never been a fan of the comic, but he took humor where he could get it. 

“Funny!” Zoe informed him one day pointing at the light. She tilted her small head to the side and smiled. “Bird!”

“Bat.” He corrected, grabbing her hand. “As we’ve gone over before. Come now, your supper’s getting cold.” 

“Bird.” The toddler insisted, shaking her head as she followed her uncle. “Bird, Daccy, bird!” 

“Dracula.” The vampire exhaled, lifting the child into her high chair. “How is it you can say other things but my name gives you a great deal of trouble?”

“I find it rather adorable.” Agatha smirked as she set a plate of peas and macaroni in front of her niece. “Aunt Aggie and Uncle Daccy, has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” 

“As tasteful as the blood of a leper.” Her husband said, throwing her a look. “Agatha, I honestly do not think this setting is working out.” And as if on cue, a single pea flew past his head and tumbled onto the floor by his feet. Zoe giggled from her seat, quite pleased with herself. “To further prove my point.” He continued, motioning to the abandoned vegetable. “I’m a cold blooded killer, not a loving guardian.” 

“We all have flaws.” His wife replied simply, going to wipe the toddler’s mouth. “But that doesn’t mean we cannot fix them.” She pressed a kiss on the toddler’s forehead before turning back to her husband. “And I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and have come to the conclusion that there is perhaps one way we can do that.” 

“And that would be…” The Count ventured. 

“An uncle and niece day!” Agatha chuckled, noting the stunned expression on her lover’s face. “It’ll be good for the three of us. I get some time to myself and you get to know Zoe more.” 

“In the past several centuries of my life, I have never heard of a more ridiculous idea!” Dracula retorted, eyes following Agatha as she moved about the kitchen. “Agatha, you can’t possibly expect me to…” 

“You’ve dealt with entire armies.” The former nun interrupted. “Surely a toddler cannot be that much harder.” 

Another pea flew through the air, this time hitting Dracula straight in the face. The man frowned deeply as the toddler gave him a toothy grin. When he had taken Agatha as his bride, he hadn’t expected a vegetable wielding toddler in tow decades later. Exhaling, he leaned against the counter. This was going to be one hell of a war.