#between a serial killer and his victim turned vampire boyfriend

[isbergillustration]

A pair of guys, watching me write. Judging.

[lykegenia]

Like Glitter and Gold Ch.6

Rating:  Teen And Up Audiences Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles - Mishka Jenkins                             Relationships: Female Detective/Nathaniel “Nate” Sewell, Female Detective & Tina Poname, Female Detective & Unit Bravo Additional Tags: Murder Mystery, Worldbuilding, Romance, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Established Relationship, Post-Book 2, AU - Canon Divergent

Summary: Wayhaven has had its ups and downs in the past few months, and for Detective Leah Kingston, dealing with vampire serial killers and mysterious plagues has become something of a routine. Good thing, too. The body of a murdered supernatural has just been discovered in the alley behind a local bar - and everything, really, just gets weirder from there.Between the search for the dead man's killer, keeping the Agency at bay, and trying to navigate the new, uncertain waters of a relationship with a very suave vampire boyfriend, Leah has her work cut out solving the mystery, especially when it beomes clear she's hunting more than just a murderer.

Read on AO3!

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A full meal and a night of decent rest make the shadows pale by morning, the doubt chased away further by the way Nate straightens when he spots Leah emerging from her building. She hopes he wasn’t waiting long, though it’s amusing to see him leaning against the bumper of her run-down car as if it’s going to be featured on a magazine cover, when the flashy red sports car is right there practically crying out for someone to drape themself across the bonnet. He seems oblivious, of course, and greets her with another melting kiss, his touch lingering at her waist even after they part.

“Are you ready to go?” she asks.

He beams at her. “I am, and very curious about our itinerary for today.”

“We’ll still be working,” she reminds him as she unlocks the car, and spooks herself with how much she sounds like Adam.

“I’d expect nothing less.” As always, he has to fold almost in half to fit into her passenger seat. “But it doesn’t make me any less happy to be spending time with you.”

A small, glanced smile is all she can spare as she pulls out onto the road. Most of the early commuters and school runners have already cleared the roads, so they make good time. With the caffeine from her morning tea still kicking in, Leah spends the journey in between small bouts of conversation thinking ahead to what they might find at the museum, how it might fit in with what they have so far, the suspects, evidence, and gaps where the puzzle is still missing pieces. They do have a lot more to go on so far than in the Murphy case, at least – and this time she isn’t handicapped by being kept in the dark about what they’re really dealing with.

When she makes the final turn onto the road to the old lighthouse, she sneaks a look sideways. The attitude of her passenger is relaxed, his arm braced as always against the doorframe, but there’s energy in the smile tugging at his lips. He’s trying to hide it, as if determined to let her surprise him. It’s sweet.

“I know you saw the sign,” she says.

“What sign?”

A consummate actor he is not.

“Alright,” he confesses when she tilts a raised eyebrow in his direction, “I know where we’re going. What are we looking for?”

She shrugs. “The reason why our victim kept coming back, or maybe why he was looking in the lake – hopefully someone with a nice convenient sign saying, ‘it woz me what done it.’”

“That would be helpful,” he agrees.

“I’ll know it when I find it. I hope. Though I say that realising I didn’t exactly solve the last murder case I was leading.”

“You did your job well, Leah, even though we did our best to hinder you.” There’s guilt as well as reassurance in Nate’s voice as he easily reaches across the space and slips his hand over where hers rests on the gearstick. “I have every faith in you.”

They lapse into silence, the comfort of touch working to push back the memories of Murphy’s victims, the weeks of frustration knowing that important evidence was being kept just out of reach. As the trees of the headland break into morning sunshine, however, and the white pillar of the lighthouse comes into view against a backdrop of silver clouds, the picturesque nature of the scene is enough to refocus her mind on the present.

“It shouldn’t mean we can’t enjoy the exhibits,” she points out. “Though… shit, I can’t believe I didn’t think of this.” It really, really should have crossed her mind – might have done, if she’d planned this at all. “You haven’t been here before, have you? I wouldn’t want to drag you around if you’ve seen everything already.”

He chuckles. “Not that it would bother me, but no, I haven’t. In fact, I’ve thought once or twice about bringing you here, for a real date. I had the same worries.”

He ducks his head as he says it and strokes his thumb across the back of her hand, shy and tentative, a scratch in the confident veneer that sets her so on edge. She likes this uncertainty. It feels real.  

“I haven’t been here since they refurbished the place,” she tells him as she pulls into a parking space. “I always meant to, but now I’m glad that I didn’t.”

Up close, the lighthouse makes the perfect poster child for the grand plan to turn Wayhaven into a modern town, an icon worth more for publicity than the whole district of gentrified bars along the wharf. Investing in cultural projects has proven effective at bringing in a new tide of tourists and businesses, even if the more cynical might point out that whatever the results, it’s also proven to be a good way for the mayor to line his own pockets.

But at least the façade is cheerful. Fresh whitewash acts as a frame for brightly filled flowerbeds and trimmed, emerald lawns, with a picnic bench for those inclined to enjoy the ambience of the car park rather than the view over the lake that makes it onto all the postcards. That vista currently lies hidden behind the three-storey extension to the tower that houses the main body of the museum. Nate, robbed of the ability to hold Leah’s hand by the official nature of their visit, strides ahead to pull open the door before she can reach it, passing close enough that she catches a heady lungful of his scent before the warm, guiding weight of his hand brushes against the small of her back to usher her into the foyer. She thanks him with a smile, a brief touch to his waist.

The middle-aged employee at the front desk doesn’t notice the small intimacy. They smile in welcome from behind thick, black-rimmed glasses, the combination of the museum’s navy-blue polo shirt with the colourful badges pinned to their lanyard lending an eccentric air to their appearance.

“Good morning, welcome to Wayhaven Museum!” A plethora of bracelets clack as the sales computer is nudged into life. “Two tickets?”

“Please.” Leah smiles and leans on the counter. “And some information.”

“We have a guidebook,” the seller says brightly with a gesture to a stand of pamphlets. “That gives you more information on all of our exhibits, and –”

“No, thank you.” She pulls out her badge. “I didn’t catch your name?”

“Uh… Theo?”

“Theo. I’m after a different kind of information, and I’m hoping you can help me.”

Their eyes widen. “Is this about that murder yesterday? It’s been all over town.”

Leah sidesteps the question. The first rule of investigative work drummed into her head during training was to not give out more information than necessary, in case it ends up leading the conversation. Instead of an answer, she pulls out the photo Tina found on Russell Seakirk’s website.

“Have you ever seen this man before?” she asks, sliding it across the counter.

Theo leans forward to examine it more closely, but after a moment gives up with a shake of their head. “Sorry, I’m really bad with faces. He might be familiar?”

“It’s alright,” she assures, and takes the picture back. “We have reason to believe he came to the museum quite a lot.”

“It’s possible.” A shrug. “When we’re busy, one face just fades into another, you know? And it’s not always me on the front desk so he might have come in when I wasn’t around.”

“How many people work here?” Nate asks, and now that the glamour of the police badge has faded, that winning combination of soft smile and warm brown eyes turns Theo a rather flustered shade of pink.

“Oh, well… um.” Their gaze drops to their hands, ticking off names. “There’s me, Steve, and Jadine – we’re the dogsbodies. You know – cleaning toilets and managing the gift shop and stuff. Then there’s Claire, she handles Education when we get kids in, and then Samantha is the one who actually works with the exhibits. I guess you might want to speak to Michael, maybe, he’s the top manager – all about PR, if you know what I mean.”

Unfortunately familiar with the politics of keeping the mayor on-side, Leah offers a sage nod. “What about the café?”

“Oh, they’re technically not museum staff.”

But they still open the pool of suspects. It’s another thing she was taught: sometimes the leads are clear, and sometimes you just have to make an educated guess and run into each dead end in turn before you can find out what’s really going on.

“Is Samantha in today?” she asks.

“Sure, she’s around.”

“Thank you, you’ve been very helpful.” With a final nod, she picks up the tickets and heads for the turnstile, only waiting for Nate, charming as always, to buy one of the guidebooks.

“A souvenir,” he explains as he catches up.

She shoots him a wry look. “I think I’ll keep you supervised in the gift shop.”

“I’m not entirely without impulse control.” There’s just the hint of an indignant pout. “It just seemed like a nice idea to have a reminder of our day.”

Coming from anyone else, such a sentiment would merit an eyeroll rather than a bashful smile, but she doesn’t dodge away fast enough for him to miss it, and an answering grin spreads across his features as she leans close enough to acknowledge the gesture with a nudge against his arm.

“It’s almost like we’re undercover again.”

“Almost,” he agrees. The back of his fingers brush against hers as they pass under the sign directing them to the museum’s exhibits. She shouldn’t take the offer while she’s on duty, but the feel of his skin sends a jolt along her nerves and her hand moves without permission, turning into his palm like they’re the opposite poles of a magnet. Even so, she’s glad he doesn’t try for anything more overt that would leave her completely distracted.

The first room they enter quickly closes off in a crowd of fibreglass tree trunks and plastic leaves, the lighting dimmed to shades of yellow and rich green as a tinny soundtrack of jungle noises plays over a set of disguised speakers. A spotlighted glass case displays the first specimen, a slab of pale sandstone dotted with fossilised trilobites, with the delicate impressions of their antennae still immaculately preserved. Above the piece, a big sign artfully hidden by moss invites them to ‘Follow the trail through Wayhaven’s Prehistoric Past’. There are even dinosaur footprints stencilled on the floor in orange paint.

“‘Life in the Cambrian Explosion’,” Nate reads, bending over the trilobites for a closer look. “Fascinating.”

For a moment, she’s lost in the glow of new knowledge that sparks in his face, content to hold his hand and watch as he scans the museum’s description of some of the oldest animals on Earth. It’s just the two of them, not on a date.

“I always did want to know what it would be like to be an immortal visiting a museum,” she says as they follow the winding trail through the room. The jungle sounds intersperse with chitinous clicks as they reach a display with a fossilised fragment of a millipede as long as a car.

The immortal presently in her company tips a bemused look sideways. “How so?”

“There’s all this history and knowledge on display, but none of it existed when you were…” She shrugs, apologetic for the right word “… younger. We’re still making scientific discoveries every day, but three hundred years ago the concept of science wasn’t even a thing – we didn’t even have dinosaurs until the 1820s.” And now there’s a plastic one poking its snout out of the artificial underbrush to scare the kiddies.

“Why Leah, are you trying to imply that I am some kind of fossil?” Playfulness glitters beneath the warmth in Nate’s gaze.

“Not quite that old,” she teases. “Hmmm… maybe a relic.”

Mock outrage paints his expression as he slips closer and snags her by the waist, drops his voice to a purr by her ear. “I will remember you said that.”

He hears the catch in her beath, she’s sure of it. Before he can do anything about it, however, the moment gets stampeded by the yells and slapping feet of a pair of young children running from the main doors, and an exasperated father with a buggy towed inexorably along behind. She uses the distraction as a cover to steal back some composure, shoving her hands into her jeans pockets with a polite smile as they wait for the family to pass them. At least having others ahead makes for a good excuse to linger.

“So what is it like?” she asks, once the exhibit is theirs again.

A nervous hand cards the hair away from his eyes. “Adam is older than me, he would be a better person to ask.”

“I want your answer,” she retorts.

“Fair enough.” He sighs. “Working for the Agency doesn’t allow me the best perspective, given that we spend most of our time apart from the rest of the world, but the distance humanity has come is remarkable. No less so that the knowledge gained is celebrated the way it is.”

“But?”

“For me it is bittersweet,” he explains. “Museums are a reminder of how many generations I have lived beyond my own time. Much has been gained, but what places like these don’t say is everything that has been lost.”

“I see.” It’s not something she’s ever thought of, that a museum might be considered an objective insight into the world only because a human eye lacks the perspective to see it change. Is this how everything appears to an immortal? How do you respond when everything around you is so fleeting? The thought stirs the disquiet she thought safely shoved under a mental rock, gives it a fulcrum around which to pivot.

Nate notices, though luckily he doesn’t seem to realise the cause.

“The good outweighs the bad,” he says, reaching for her.

“I’ll say,” she teases, because it’s simpler. “You didn’t have life-sized plastic dinosaurs in the seventeenth century.”

There’s a flash of disappointment in his eyes. “Not in such virulent shades of maroon, anyway.”

“But it’s probably not why our victim kept coming back.” Her grin fades. “We should see what else is here.”

Quiet settles on them as they wander into the next exhibit, broken only by an occasional comment about the artefacts on display. The second room shows the human history of Wayhaven, from the first flint and antler tools to industrial rubbish found in excavations for the new building at the hospital, and nothing of likely interest to a treasure-hunting selkie. However, it does offer a distraction from the new uncertainty in Nate’s manner, gives her space to work out what she did to cause this morose, chivalrous distance. Give her a puzzle, or a problem with an objective solution, and she’s on it like an arrow, but the delicate stuff – people and their expectations – is beyond her area of expertise. Her one real experiment with a relationship was Bobby, and – well. There’s a reason her only friends now are the people she works with.

For a moment, she thinks the sound of his voice is imagined. It wafts to her as she’s bent towards a collection of Victorian clay pipes, and once she realises it’s not just a delusion she stiffens like a dog catching a stranger’s scent at the door. Of course.

Think of the devil and he shall appear.

She turns despite her better judgement and sure enough, Bobby is blocking the stairwell, his stance and smirk part of the standard pitch to win people over, but she doubts he’s here just to flirt. Museums aren’t his thing, and his target, redhaired and waifish though she is, is wearing a lanyard over a formal blouse and slacks.

He spots her before she can sneak closer to eavesdrop.

“Well, well, isn’t today just full of surprises!” he calls out, before turning back to offer a business card to the woman Leah presumes is Samantha. “I was going to call at the station, but maybe you’d like to have a chat now, since you’re here?”

She doesn’t blink. “About what?”

“I think you know.”

“All requests for formal statements will be responded to in due course,” she answers, deadpan, her eyes on her potential suspect’s retreating back. “You know how this works.”

He sighs, pouts. “Always so formal. Tell me, will this official statement from Wayhaven’s finest include the reason why you’ve decided to patronise the arts while a vicious killer is on the loose?”

“Leah?”

Nate emerges from behind a display, concern thick in his voice as he comes to stand beside her. In an instant Bobby’s gaze slides to this new variable, and the predatory edge to his smirk appears like a portent of her future suffering.

“Is there any particular reason you’re here?” she asks, to forestall any conclusions his weaselly little mind might be concocting. “It all seems a bit… cerebral for you.”

“I go where the stories are, angel.”

“It’s Mr Marks, isn’t it?” Nate asks. His tone is mild, smooth and cold as marble.

“Bobby – please.” He saunters forward and sticks out his hand. “I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. An oversight, I’m sure.”

There’s a distinct pause before Nate takes the offered hand. “I’m sure.”

“So you are…?”

“Agent Sewell.”

“One of the infamous Unit Bravo!” The corner of Bobby’s mouth twitches as his hand is ever so slightly, deliberately crushed. “I – ah – would really love to do an interview sometime, help ease the minds of readers who are concerned. What do you have to say about the correlation between your arrival in Wayhaven and the local increase in violent crime?”

“Nothing that can’t be spun into sensationalist drivel, I’m sure,” Leah snorts.

“Aw, angel, that hurts – I know you know me better than that.” He leans closer and lets his gaze drag down her body. “I definitely know you better.”

She imagines tasering him with the Volt gun. “You really don’t. And as witty as this banter is, I would like to get on with my day.”

Before he can retort, she slips past him, taking care not to touch.

“Let me know if you want help with the murder investigation.”

She doesn’t turn. “Goodbye, Bobby.”

The museum employee has disappeared up the stairs to the first floor, and following her has the added benefit that it will leave Bobby and his crude suggestions far behind. A vague sense tells her Nate is following at her heels but it doesn’t truly register until she makes the first floor and his fingers close around her wrist.

“Leah…” he murmurs as she stumbles to a halt. “Are you alright?” His touch almost scorches against her skin.

“I’m fine.” She answers without looking at him. “He likes to think he gets to me is all. He still can’t stand that I’m the one who gave him the boot.”

“I’m glad you did,” he says, soft.

“At least my taste has gotten better.”

The smile that lights his face at that helps to drain some of the tension from her limbs, but not the dregs that remain to curb the impulse to simply put her arms around him and set her ear above his heartbeat. She would, if not for the badge at her hip. And then there’s the obvious curiosity he swallows back in favour of comfort, the gentle way he runs his hands along her forearms as if worried she might be cold. The difference between him and her good-for-target-practice ex is almost funny.

“Shall we go and find what we came here for?” he asks eventually.

“Let’s.” She passes a cautious look over her shoulder to make sure they haven’t been followed. “At least if Bobby’s here it probably means we’re on the right track.”

“You don’t seem entirely reassured by that,” Nate points out.

“Because he now knows he’s on the right track, and he’ll spin whatever he’s dug up until everyone’s in a panic.”

“But at least whatever he writes won’t come as an unpleasant surprise.”

A smile touches her lips. “I hope you’re right.”

Apparently satisfied, he lets his arm run down to her hand again, giving it a gentle tug to lead the way forward. The room they’ve found themselves in now looks more promising. It’s dedicated to information about the lake and Wayhaven’s maritime history, taking advantage of the large windows that overlook the water to merge past and present, with large transparent panels that superimpose a grainy black and white photograph over the modern shoreline. Old lighthouse lenses stand in glass cases, and on the far wall there’s an infoboard of all the animals to be found along the lakeshore.

The children who ran past them earlier are out on the balcony, shouting about sea monsters and swinging off one of the telescopic viewers set up for people to watch the seals, while their father has snagged the attention of the same employee Bobby was accosting. Her smile is easy, but it doesn’t match the way her weight shifts between her feet, or the nervous twisting of her fingers around the silver wedding band on her left hand, and closer to – in better light – the deep, dyed red of her hair gives her thin face a weary, pallid look.

“Excuse me,” Leah asks, watching how the woman blinks. “Are you Samantha?”

“I am.” She smiles and nods farewell to the father, who retreats to the balcony to round up his offspring. “What can I help you with?”

Leah taps a finger on the badge hooked into the top of her belt. “Detective Kingston, Wayhaven Police, this is Agent Sewell. I was hoping you could answer a few questions for me.”

Samantha spreads her arms in invitation. “Of course. Whatever you need. Is there something wrong?”

“Do you recognise this man?”

There’s a frown as Samantha takes the offered photo, then a pause before she shrugs and hands it back. “Vaguely. I’ve seen him around.”

“Did you see him the day before yesterday?”

She shakes her head. “Fridays are my day off. Is he alright?”

“He was murdered yesterday morning.”

“Oh.”

“We have reason to believe he came here quite a lot,” Leah presses. “Did he ever speak to you about any of the exhibits?”

“I don’t usually talk to the museum’s guests directly. I’m only out here today to take some new pictures of the upstairs gallery for the website.” To illustrate, the woman holds up her phone, but Leah is busy watching the uncertain dart of her eyes. “You’re welcome to stay and look around as long as you want, though. The tickets are for the whole day.”

“Thanks. I was thinking about grabbing a coffee on my way out, actually, if you have any recommendations?”

“Oh.” Samantha offers another shrug. “They do a vanilla latte that’s pretty good.”

With a nod, Leah thanks er again and pulls one of her own business cards out of a back pocket. “If you think of anything, that’s my number.”

“Of course, Detective.”

The card is plucked up with a bare glance and a quirk of the mouth too sour to be a true smile, and then Samantha turns away. For a moment, Leah watches her progress back towards the stairs, waiting until she’s out of earshot to pull out her own phone and load the museum’s website.

“Her heartbeat increased as soon as you introduced yourself,” Nate murmurs as she waits for the page to load.

She hums in agreement. “She was lying through her teeth about not knowing our victim.”

“Why ask for coffee recommendation?” he asks. “You don’t drink it.”

“No, but whoever Russell was treating to coffee does.”

She tilts the screen to let him see the museum’s bio for Samantha Harris. Next to a short list of her qualifications, academic interests, and contact details is a picture of a smiling woman with shoulder length, straw-coloured hair.

“Verda found a blonde hair on the inside of our victim’s coat that’s about the same length as hers,” she explains. “And did you notice? There are still dye stains along her hairline. She changed the colour in the past few days at the most.”

Nate frowns as he examines the photo. “So they were something to each other,” he checks. “Lovers?”

It would be the most obvious explanation for the hair and the coffee receipts, but since the answer to her first murder case was ‘a vampire did it’, it’s not something Leah’s going to take for granted.

“You’re quite brilliant, you know.”

She shrugs off the compliment. “It’s my job. There’s more than one blonde in Wayhaven, and this is all speculation unless we can find CCTV here that shows them together. I’ll get Tina on it later.”

It’s still not a complete answer to what they’re looking for, however. A little way along, the path pools into a kind of cul-de-sac lit by wavering blue lights, scattered about with shipping crates and bordered by a partition designed to look like the rusted hull of an old steamship. One part of it is cut away to make an entrance to an interior room, and from inside the muffled sounds of a storm play over more tinny speakers.

“Very… atmospheric,” Nate comments. The slight strain in his voice distracts from the tickle of memory at the back of Leah’s skull, but he only waves away her look of concern. “Really, it’s quite the impressive setup.”

The false interior of the ship is dark. Opposite the entrance, a black felt wall stands emblazoned with ‘The Last Voyage of the Pegasus’, below which are various old photographs of a steamship and a map of the lake with a red dotted line that shows a route from the main harbour to a point just off the southern shore marked with a star. A panel describing the history of the ship, where it was built and when it was operated, sits next to this, drawing Leah further on into the exhibition, a bubble of excitement growing in her chest as the soundtrack loops back to the beginning.

“The storm begins in the early afternoon while the Pegasus is in the middle of the lake,” explains a cool male voice over the whistle of a harsh wind. “Visibility decreases rapidly as clouds close in and the waves rise –”

She turns a corner into a small theatre as the voiceover is cut off by a crack of thunder. A projector screen has been set up in front of a row of padded stools so that people can watch a recreation of the story. As the soundtrack swells with a hiss of rain and more wind, more thunder, the picture shifts to a CGI shot looking out from the recreated wheelhouse. Towering, roiling waves stretch out to the horizon, their white crests gnashing like rows of teeth as they surge over the bows and pitch the vessel up towards the sky for an instant of weightlessness before it’s plunged straight down into a trough of sickening, violent blue.

The scene in the mirror.

“Nate –”

He’s transfixed. One hand grips the edge of the wall.

“– As a veteran of many a winter storm, Captain Brian Harris knows how much punishment his ship can take. With sixteen lives depending on his experience, he makes the decision to cut his cargo loose –”

He doesn’t react when she crosses to stand in front of him, doesn’t even see her. The screen holds all his attention, and even in the dark she can see his eyes starting to bleed crimson at the edges.

“– with a resounding crack, the Pegasus runs aground, out of sight of the town and beyond any help that might reach her passengers and crew. Water pours into the hold, and the ship lists as it sinks, pushed by the storm –”

“Nate!”

The instant her hands touch his face he starts, gaze snapping to her wild with confusion. When he opens his mouth, the sharp edges of his fangs peek from behind his lips, and he grips her wrist with crushing force as he presses further into her palm.

“Leah…” He gasps it, ragged.

“Let’s get you out of here.”

Somehow, she manages to lead him to the balcony, bathed in late morning sunshine and cooled by a stiff breeze. There’s still the view over the water, though, and she moves to block his view of it as she coaxes him down against the nearest wall until he’s folded double, knees bent up towards his chin.

“Focus on me,” she instructs.

His eyes are squeezed shut as he flexes his grip on her arms. “Gladly.”

“Breathe.”

He inhales, deep through his nose, and though every muscle in his body still hums with tension, a smile cracks across his face.

“What is it?” she asks, worried. Vampire panic attacks are not covered in basic first aid training.

“You smell like green tea,” he says. “And cotton. You made something with apple and cloves yesterday, after you showered.”

“I –” Heat rushes to her face at the thought of Nate thinking of her in the shower. “It was a crumble.”

He nods, a voiceless huff of laughter passing his lips, and moments tick by in silence as bit by bit the harsh drag of his breathing lightens and his shoulders lose their tension. Eventually, the danger feels far enough past that she turns and sinks against the wall beside him, still with one hand firmly clasped in his.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he mutters when he at last regains his voice.

She settles her head on his shoulder with a sigh. “Don’t be. I should have noticed sooner –”

“If I’m not allowed to apologise then you certainly shouldn’t,” he interrupts, and rests his cheek against her hair. “We’ve had quite a day so far, haven’t we?”

“That’s one way to put it. But at least we can assume what Russell was looking for now.” She watches idly as a seagull veers close on an air current and then glides away. “I remember now. There was a story I heard as a kid about sunken treasure hidden in the lake. I always thought it was just one of those playground legends.”

“Like vampires?” he muses.

“Mm. And unicorns.” A pause. “Are you alright?”

“I… am now.” A shiver runs through him. “But I could have done a lot of damage without your quick thinking.”

“You did dent a wall, actually,” she replies, teasing. “Adam would be proud.”

She feels his wince in the slight tightening of his fingers around her hand, but as she smooths her thumb over the knuckles, turns his palm upwards to give her better access. The size difference between them is marked, as is the lack of callouses or scars to mar his skin, and he relaxes into the attention as she traces the lines of muscle and tendon. It’s just a way to occupy herself, really, to make the silence feel less awkward. There’s a freckle at the base of his thumb.

“Why don’t I finish up in here and meet you outside?” she suggests. “There are a few more things I want to check out before we leave.”

He sighs, long and deep. “I suppose we can’t stay here all day – however entrancing it is to watch your hands.” He purrs the last, his lips poised next to her ear.

She turns into the gesture, heart stuttering, close enough to bump his nose but not enough to eliminate the distance completely. “You’re clearly feeling better.”

“Thanks to you.”

It’s a simple nudge forwards for him to kiss her, harder not to turn into it, or cup his face to hold him forever to her lips, but work always gets in the way.

“Will you be alright?” she asks, to prolong the moment.

Another, too brief press of his mouth. “Go get your evidence.”

She brushes his cheek. “I’ll find you outside.”

[sunnyborabora]

The sound of your beating heart (Sehun x Reader)

As a wave of atrocious murder strike the city you live in, your life is slowly falling apart with the feeling of fear that is taking over every citizen. Happily for you, you can count on your boyfriend Sehun, loyal and ready to protect you. Little did you know, the danger is sometimes closer than what you may think.

Warning: Vampire!Sehun x human! reader; smut, blood drinking, serial killer Au, stalking, violence, assault, angst angst and angst again....

Do I even have any rights after all those months? At least my exams went okay, wish me luck for my finals! This is an old request but here is the Sehun part! This is hella long, please stop me of making complicated angsty plot lgbljabjbjj I hope that the anon who requested it will be happy and that I made up for the long wait. The update should arrived gradually now! Thanks for your support it means so much to me ! 

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« Y/n, you should go back to your apartment now, before it's too dark. » Your boss told you handing you a little bag with what was not sold during the day. Working in bakery had those type of advantages, you thought taking the bag thanking him. You said goodbye to your colleagues before exiting the shop. It was cold outside as expected of a November month. The bakery was pretty successful in this season, people already were ordering pastry for December's festivities. You were happy to have a lot of work, it was keeping your mind busy not thinking about other things. Times had been difficult lately. Not for you personally but for the city you were living in general. In this normally happy season that should be winter holidays, a gloomy atmosphere had settled down on the entire city. It's been a month or so since the beginning of the murders. The first victim was a homeless woman that was usually seen around the train station. They found her body two days later her «disappearance». No one had actually noticed that she had disappeared which the more you were thinking about the more you were sad about. It had happened to you to talk to her some times. You had started to distribute food and blanket for homeless people last winter and it had open your eyes and mad you aware of them. Nobody really took this murder seriously, the media and the police were avoiding the subject and soon the case was closed. Until the next murder. Another woman was found. She was a single mother of four children who was working in a gas station during the night. The police could not hide anything anymore and soon the media took the news very seriously. There was a serial killer out there killing women during the night leaving their body empty from any blood. From what you knew there has been ten victims in one month. Women of all ages, ethnicity, size. There was no link between any of the victim except they were all women who sadly find themselves at the wrong place at the wrong moment. The bodies were always found near the place of the assault, the victim were never disappearing more than some hours until someone found the body, which did not usually took long because the murderer was doing absolutely nothing to hide them. A new body every two or three days. You weren't really scared of it at first, thinking that police would catch him soon, that he would get what he deserved. But it did not happen. And almost a month later he was still creeping around the city. You had avoided going out at night but it was unavoidable with your work. As it was the case tonight. The winter being here, night was falling way faster that some month ago, and as it was progressing everyone was feeling less and less secure. You were walking as fast as you could, clutching your bag full of sandwiches and croissant. You weren't wearing your headphones because you wanted to be able to hear if someone was trying to sneak behind you. At first, you would just walk in places where there was a lot of people, crowded area being safer. But soon the streets started emptied themselves, letting just a few isolated people roaming the streets at night. And you were now walking all alone in the main street of your city, still fifteen minutes ago from your apartment. You were becoming more and more paranoiac the more you were walking. The silence surrounding you was messing with your mind, and you started hearing footsteps behind you. Your heart started beating fast into your chest, blood leaving your face as the silence become heavier and heavier with every step you were taking. The moment a hand touched your shoulder you jerked off, a terrified squeak leaving your mouth as you tried to escape. « Fuck, Y/n you scared the shit out off me why did you screamed! -You're the one who scared me ! I almost died ! Fuck Sehun, never do that again ! » You were almost crying at this point. But it was only Sehun. « Your boss just told me you left alone. I was hoping to catch up on you before you arrived to your apartment. » He smirked at you, raising his shoulders. That cocky bastard almost scared you to death. You could He offered his arms for you to take, and you do so, needing someone to help you walk, your legs still shaking a bit. « Did I really scared you that much ? » He said mockingly. You laid your head on his shoulder, nodding vigorously. « You idiot, sneaking around innocent people in the middle of the night. » You punched his arm with more rage you intended too. « Ouch ! I am sorry okay ! But I only had good intentions at first I swear ! I didn't wanted to go home alone ! » Sehun was working into a 24/7 shop just in front of the bakery you were working in. You met him three years ago when you started working at the shop as a student job. You had the biggest crush on him for the exact moment you met him. He was the sassy cashier who messed up your order the first time you came at three am to look for food when you were still studying in university. Even if you had the impression you were boring him to death you kept coming back. In fact Sehun was just shy around new people. Once he was used to being near you, he was actually a very sociable person. Now you were dating, if you could call this dating. There was something between you and Sehun, for sure there was, but lately things had been strange. Sehun was acting strange. As this thought crossed your head, you felt him tensed in your arm. « Are you okay ? » You asked trying to look at his face. He was looking behind you. « Yeah this is nothing, I thought I heard something but no. Must have been a cat or something... » You nodded simply. You kept both silence for the remaining walk. You arrived sooner than your liking at your apartment. You had to tear apart from him. « You can't stay right ? » He laughed quietly, interwining your fingers with his. « I already should be back. But hey, I'll be there tomorrow okay ? » You pouted. You wanted your boyfriend to stay with you. You didn't understand why he chose those stupid schedule. « You sure you can't stay. » You placed your hand on his chest, your fingers tracing patterns on the material of his shirt. He smiled before lining toward you. His lips touched yours again and fuck he wasn't ready. Every time you touched him, kiss him he would find himself starving. Starving for you, your skin, your sent, your blood. « How are you even doing this ? » He asked breathing against your mouth. You were happy that you had found a way to make him stay. It's been some times that you had not been with him like this. Just the both of you and fuck you wanted him so bad. You could not resist your boyfriend kissing you as you held him by his neck, deepening the kiss more. His tongue was so aggressive in your mouth, and he was biting your lips, his teeth feeling sharper than usual but you were too far gone to notice anything. « Fuck, Sehun…" You moaned in his mouth as you felt his warm fingers against your throat. He knew your body so well, what you wanted. And you wanted him to go hard on you. You wanted to feel owned by him. Only him. « You know I can't resist you baby. I can't resist you and your sinful body, making me hard just by looking at me. » He said as he pulled away from the kiss. Your clothes were gone faster than you could think about. You couldn't care less when Sehun was kissing you. His mouth was doing things to your body, stimulating spots that you didn't know could be pleasurable. But fuck, him biting at your neck, sucking hard so it will leave marks. He was so entranced by it, you just thought it was some fetish of him not knowing that it was a true torture for him. He loved you, so fucking much. But you were just a walking torture device. He just wanted to dig his fangs into you sucking your blood until he was satiated while he was fucking your cunt making you full. He could obviously not do that. He didn't want to hurt you, he wasn't sure that if he started drinking from you he would be able to stop. Your only sent and taste was enough to make him lost it. “Please, Sehun, don’t stop” You whispered desperately. You were so good for him. You were always so good, taking him so well. But you knew how to get him going. « Please, Sehun, more. -What do you want ? Tell me Y/n. » You moaned loudly when he bit hard on one of your nipple. « Eat me » You cried out, desperate for more. He groaned loudly, thinking you were doing it on purpose. He was going to eat you out so good, because nothing would never compare to your taste. He lifted your legs to place them on his shoulders and spreads your legs to leans down, tongue flicking out, making a quick swipe up your folds. Nothing would never compare to that, to what Sehun was doing to you. He was sucking on your clit, his thumbs parting your fields to let him access to your core. He was eating you like a starved man, juice smeared on his chins and your thighs, making sinful noises that were just turning you on more. « Sehun ! Fuck ! » Your pleasure was building up fast, your limbs starting to shake as your orgasm approached. His mouth was so sharp, his teeth were way more present than usually but it wasn't painful. It felt good, weird for sure, but so good. He licked your juice as he slid two long fingers inside you. You cried out in pleasure as you get closer and closer. « Sehun, yes, oh my god » You panted heavily as you're cumming on his tongue. He grunted against your folds, keeping licking you, collecting your essence on his tongue. It was the moment were your sent was the strongest. « I’m about to fuck you so hard baby » he said, looking at you. He looked wild, platinum blond messy from your hands grabbing it. Eyes so dark, predatory. « I need to be inside you, right now. -Yes, right now » you answered grabbing his shirt lifting it off. Sehun was the most beautiful human you had ever seen. His defined features, his soft even skin. Hi body sculpted like a Greek statue. You could not help but stares, never really ready for this. He kissed you again, still as intense as before. You didn't have the time to noticed that he had taken off his pants, pushing your body into the mattress. He slid himself entirely into you and your back ached out of pleasure. He was long and thick, hitting spots inside you that made you scream. « You always feel so good. So tight » He said as he pulled himself out. You could not talk, words mixing in your brain without any meaning. He slid himself into you again, his hips rolling with ease against your pelvis. His left hand was holding your waist, making your move in sync with his own movement. Sehun was feeling heavenly. You, wrap around him, so wet, so tight. Belonging in this instant completely his. But it was so much, too much, and right now as his fangs were starting to sting his gums. He needed to put distance between your throat and his mouth. He flipped you around, making you ride him. You seemed surprised at the sudden change of position, but the new angle made him hit your cervix, blurring your vision. You may have been far away from his mouth, the vision of you riding his dick, your back arched from pleasure. You lifted yourself to ride his length, trying to pick up a rhythm to meet his own trust. You moaned with every thrust as you held your hands on his chest. His hands on your hips are soon guiding your movement. He was handling your body with ease, not seeming to force on his arms. It was allowing your thighs to rest a bit. Your hands were resting on his chest, your arms squeezing your boobs together as they were bouncing. Sehun was fascinated, he would not be able to look away. « Sehun, I-I m gonna- » You said as his length stretched you out more and more. « Are you, baby ? » He said breathlessly. You let out a faint scream as your orgasm was building up, not able yet to get your release. You kept bouncing up and down your boyfriend as you were almost about to come, overloading with pleasure. « Please, Sehun ! I love you so much » You cried in pleasure induced pain. Your body ached and your muscles contracted as you pleaded Sehun to cum. « Ok baby, cum Y/n- » Sehun moaned in ecstasy. He trusted a couple of time more, pressing on your clit with his thumbs before you cried out his name as you came. You clenched on his member making it impossible for him not to cum. He exploded into you with a loud groan, the feeling of his cum gushing inside you making you cry even more. He kept thrusting helping you and himself ride his high. You fell in his arm, and he is here to catch you. He slowly slid out of you, placing you in the bed next to him on the bed. You looked exhausted but satiated. He smiled, caressing your cheek softly. « You have to leave ? -Junmyeon is gonna kick my ass if I don't. I wish I could stay with you. I missed you, I missed that. » He softly kissed you, making sure that you were comfortable under the cover of your bed before quitting your side.He kissed your forehead in a sweet motions. Your apartment seemed suddenly empty. It was so dark and silence that it scared you at first. But remembering the sweet moment you just spend with your boyfriend. You finally fell asleep a smile on your face. Saying Sehun had freaked out was an understatement. He had not seen you left your work and when he arrived to pick you up and saw you weren't there, yeah, he might be fast, but he was still extra anxious. He was not that type of boyfriend. In fact, you were both pretty independent, but he would not let you getting in danger if he could avoid it. That might have been the reason why he stayed with you longer. He needed to be with you. Now that he was back at his job, he could concentrate on his work knowing you were safe. « So how was Y/n ?, asked Kyungsoo as he was putting boxes up a shelf trying to keep the shop tidy. « She was good. -Nothing happened. -No, nothing. -You didn't see anything ? A suspect maybe ? », Junmyeon said entering the room. He was dressed in all black ready to crawl in the shadow without being seen. « You're leaving ? -We are going to hunt, see if we can find the other vampire. He should kill someone tonight. It's our best chance to catch him. » Sehun nodded. « Do you want me to come with you ? I am fast I'll can help ? » It was true that Sehun was one of the fastest vampire in his family, even Jongin could not catch up with him. And he really wanted to go out there to hunt the monster who was trespassing their territory. « No, it's better if you stay here anyway. I take Chanyeol and Xiumin with me. For only one individual it'll be enough. » Sehun was disappointed. He really wanted to go hunt. It's been a while since he's known this. When he was younger, in the very beginning of his vampire life, hunting has been his favorite thing. Now he enjoyed just drinking from the blood bank, it was easier and faster, and he didn't have to kill anyone. That was really a plus. But since the renegade vampire arrived in the city, killing way too much for a normal thirst, the feeling of hunting had triggered him. « Are you even sure that he is alone ? -It correspond to the behavior of only one individual. -Sehun is right, it's still a lot of blood for only one vampire. We only need to drink blood every two weeks. He is already at 10 victims in a month, this is the most active serial killer I've ever seen. »Added Kyungsoo. That wasn't right. « Even if there are more of them, we'll be fine. Stay here until tomorrow. Jongdae will come in the morning to take your place. » They simply nodded, not wanting to uselessly argued with Junmyeon. He was stressed enough as it was. Being the leader of a nest as big as theirs was a continual source of stress. But since the rogue vampire had entered their territory Junmyeon was more than anxious. They have been living in the city for years now, they liked it here, Nobody wanted to leave. Certainly not Sehun. « Ok, well be careful. Gave us news if there are any. » Kyungsoo finished the conversation before returning to the reserve to organized the alley. Sehun took a last look at Junmyeon before this one disappeared through the back door. He returned to his usual spot as a cashier waiting for the next client to arrive. There was only a few clients, not too much as not a lot of people were going out at night lately. He still had some brave people who were out to buy pasta and diapers for emergency. If he was honest, Sehun find that job pretty boring. But he has lived many lives, and he was happy to live a happy and calm life for this life. He was organizing the chewing gum packets near his desk for the billion time when someone entered the shop. Sehun must have been really distracted because he didn't see the man approaching him. This is only when he smelled the scent of blood that Sehun left his head. « Nice human I must said. I wasn't expecting her to be mated to a vampire. I must said I was disappointed. » Junmyeon wasn't going to find anything tonight, Sehun was sure of this. « Yeah, well, next time you are trying to take what's not yours try to be more discreet. You are stinging of blood. » The stranger smiled, his long bloodied canines showing off. Sehun didn't do anything. He was not even really scared, he had lived too much to be scared anyway. « I just thought that it was the good moment to introduce myself. I was really not aware that there was a nest already in town. » It was a lie. Every vampire of the region was aware that their nest was here. « After a month, don't you think it's a bit late to introduce yourself ? If you had introduced yourself at the beginning you would have known that our first rule is to actually not getting noticed by mortals. You for sure didn't get the memo. » The other vampire was looking at a shelf on the side, turning his back at Sehun. « Really ? Well you must understand. Having all those pangtry around me. It can drive a man wild »

Sehun had long forgotten what it was to be in a frenzie for blood. He didn't really remember as his first month as a vampire where the thirst is the strongest were long gone. « Well, everyone learns to control themselves. » The other one turned around smirking. « And do you control yourself around your human ? For sure her smell is something else. I am dying to just take a little bite » Sehun had never been the calm one. Kyungsoo was, Xiumin was, hell even Chanyeol was sometimes calmer than him. He was expecting the vampire mentioning you, but hell he also was expecting that strong feeling of anger. Nobody was touching you, never. Not in general, he was not possessive of you and you were more of a free spirit, but when it was about other vampires, he would not let anything slide. « You won't take anything. The rules are the rules, she is mine and no other vampire has the right to touch her. And if you still try I'll kill you. », he had said in the calmest tone possible. It wasn't really a threat. Even if the rogue vampire agreed not to touch you, Sehun and his nest will kill him. He had kill too many humans for him to go away. « Possessive much ? -Not really. » The tension was now thick in the air. Sehun heard Kyungsoo moving upstairs. « Your friends are looking for me. This is useless. They won't find me. -Well they don't have to look for you anymore. » Sehun was never surprised. He was known for being Stoic to a lot of situations, even if in his daily life he wasn't like this, this was the image he was giving to the outside world. Being a three hundred years old vampire was of course helping the Stoic appearance. But he didn't see the vampire coming. He was fast, faster than even with his enhanced sens he didn't see him move. He was thrown to the ground, the hard floor cracking under his body. He heard Kyungsoo running down the stairs. « Sehun ! » Sehun got up from the floor ready to attack. When he pinned into the other vampire he suddenly understood that something was wrong. The other one flipped him over like he was nothing tossing him into the shelves. Kyungsoo jumped on him but he also got throw away. That wasn't normal. Vampire were strong for sure but not that strong. He could not just flip over two of the best fighter of the nest just like that. But here he was, trying to stab the other vampire with a piece of metallic shelf that broke when he fell on it as Kyungsoo was trying to maintain him still. A snarl came out of the mouth of the vampire when Sehun succeeded into plunging the metal piece into his chest. But it wasn't in the heart and soon in a furious movement he threw Kyungsoo across the room, « fondant » on Sehun, sinking his teeth into Sehun arm as this one was trying to repal him. It hurt, it was bad. The moment the fangs sink in, an intense burn spreaded through Sehun's arm like lava. It was like acid, his blood boiling into his veins, making his body arch. « SEHUN ! », Someone shouted, but he couldn't recognize the voice before he fainted. You had spent a restless night. You could not help but toss into your bed, not finding sleep even if you were so tired you were near the coma. You simply dressed up to go to work eager to get busy. You walked toward your work, not thinking about anything in particular. It was very cold today, your hands were freezing even with your gloves and you were starting to not feel your face. When you arrived in front of the bakery, the shop just in front of it was closed. Normally Jongdae and Minseok should be here, drinking coffee while waiting for their first client. But no, the shop was closed. You didn't ask yourself more, simply entering the bakery. « Honestly, I don't know what happened. Junmyeon wasn't there this morning. » You said hi to your boss as he was speaking with one of the other employees. « Hey Y/n, do you know what happened during the night ? Did Sehun told you something ? » You turned around, concerned. « No. What happened ? » Your boss simply told you that the entire neighborhood had heard crashing noises and glass breaking. Apparently it was a robbery. You were suddenly very anxious. If it was true why Sehun didn't call you ? Were they okay ? You decided to call Sehun to know, but obviously he did not pick up. It did not calm you at all. With everything that was happening lately, you were thinking about the worst. But if something bad had happened, Junmyeon or one of the boys would have told you ? Yeah you should not worry about this. You were still thinking about it all day, even if you were busy. You finished your day, agreeing that it was the longest day of your entire life. You could not stop watching your phone, looking outside to see the shop still closed no sign of any of the boys. You decided to go at Junmyeon place after work, thinking that if there was a problem, Sehun would probably not be in his apartment. You took a taxi, telling to the driver to go as fast as he could. You didn't know what to think. You were unable to think about anything that could make sens. It was confusing, terrifying. You arrived to Junmyeon apartment fairly fast, even if the entire travel had seemed an eternity to you. You had tried to join Sehun or any of the boys several time. Even Yixing wasn't answering, and he was always answering your phone call. You ran in the stairs, almost falling to times, but you finally arrived in front of the door. You knocked, trying to catch your breath but it seemed useless. « Y/n ? What are you doing ? » It was Junmyeon. Well, a very tired version of Junmyeon. « You are not answering any of my texts or calls. After what happened yesterday at the shop I was hella worried ! Sehun is not answering, so I just came here to see if he was there. » He gulped, watching behind him as if someone had called him. He was acting weird. « What's happening 'myeon, you really are freaking me out... -You should go home Y/n. It's really nothing. Just go back home. » Were you supposed to be satisfied with this answer ? « Are you serious ? » You really should have done as he had said. You knew that it was stupid to insist. What were you going to do anyway ? Forced yourself into his apartment. What kind of people would it make of you. « Let me in Junmyeon. -No » You pushed threw hi, meeting almost no resistance. Was he that tired ? You were not ready to find five paired of eyes watching you as you entered the living room. They were all looking like zombies, dark circle around their eyes that were injected with red. « Where is Sehun ? » Nobody answered. You crossed Kyungsoo's eyes, that avoided your look immediately. You entered the corridor, ignoring the sudden calls of your name. You entered the bedroom, imagining finding nothing. Just an empty bed. But Sehun was lying here. You almost did not recognized him. He seemed so, sick. Like he had contracted the most aggressive virus. « Sehun... » You fall on your knees near his head. He was so pale, almost gray. His face was slimmer than yesterday. His lips were tinted red. « Y/n, get away from him... » But you could not answer as you were looking at the night stand, and the floor on the other sides of the bed. « Junmyeon... What is this ? » You said, your fingers trembling as you pointed at dozens of blood bags on the floor. Some red liquid spilling on the floor. « Y/n please get up slowly... » Sehun had woken up. Junmyeon behind was slowly trying to come at you but a low growl escaped the man on the bed. You were maybe in love but you weren't stupid. Even if you had no clue about what was happening, you knew when you were in danger. And right now you were. You did as Junmyeon told you, your legs shacking from how slowly you were moving. Junmyeon was ready to snatch you out Sehun sides but the other man was too fast. You did not even see him move before you were thrown on the bed. « Sehun stop ! » You felt a stinging pain in your neck, like two needles had pierced your skin. You tried to push him away but you thought about that animal documentary. The prey were never moving around by fear of the predator snapping their neck. It didn't last long, seconds maybe, before you were pushed out of Sehun's grip. Your body rolled on the floor. You were really impressed with yourself when you got up as fast as you could, running out of the room. Most of the boys in the main room were gone. Yixing was looking at you, mortified. « Y/n, your neck... -Yixing, help me... » You almost fell in his arms. He dragged your body in the kitchen, making you sit on the table. Brushing your hair out of your neck, he looked at the wound. You had no idea of what it looked like, the only thing you knew it was that it hurt like hell. Blood was glistening down your chest and in your back. You were slowly feeling light-headed. « He attacked me » Yixing didn't answer as he was pressing a compress on your wound. You wish you could cry but you couldn't. You had no idea how things had escalated so quickly. You had no idea what was happening. « What is happening Yixing... » It wasn't a question. More of a statement that everything was going wrong. He lifted your chin with his fingers making you look into his eyes. « Y/n... I don't know what to tell you... » The truth you dumb ass. You wanted to scream. At him, at Junmyeon, at Sehun, at the entire universe. « Yixing ! », Junmyeon screamed from the other side of the apartment. « Press this on your neck, don't let go okay, I'll be back » He left you, sitting on the kitchen table, more miserable than ever. He came back after what seemed an hour. « Is everything okay ? » You asked like a zombie. « I should be the one to ask you this » It was not Yixing. You almost jumped out of the table when you heard Sehun's voice. He seemed totally different from when you saw him laying on the bed minutes ago. You were scared. Scared of him for the first time since you know him. He had never done anything to scare you before, he was always so sweet and kind. You must have look terrified because he took a step back, looking like a kicked puppy. « Y/n... -I don't understand... I... You didn't tell me ? -What would you have wanted me to say... Would you even have believed me... » He was right. You would not have believed him. But now you had no other choices than to believe what he was saying. « I know. But you would have kept lying to me if it didn't happen » He didn't answer. You were trying not to cry but it was hard. You took of the compress, as it was so full of blood it was useless. It hurt like a bitch and you were starting to feel lightheaded. « Fuck, you're bleeding a lot... » If you weren't going to faint at any moment you would have thrown him your shoe. But you had no energy, not even enough to breathe correctly. « I can help you. I know you don't want but... -Yeah I kinda don't want you to be anywhere near me right now » You didn't think he could hurt you now that he was back to his normal state but still. « You are going to bleed to death. Please, let me help » You were going to die. You were feeling more and more sleepy with the seconds and you knew it wasn't good. « I don't want to die... » He appeared just in front of you the moment your body was letting go. His hands on your shoulders stabilized you, allowing you to stay sited. « I can heal the wound but I need to touch you, okay ? » You didn't say anything because you couldn't. He still got the memo. He took of your jacket, making you move softly not hurt you more. He marked a pause inhaling deeply. « That's a lot of blood,damn... » You didn't really hear or see much of what happened after that. But you felt something wet and hot, touching your wound. It wasn't as painful as you thought it would be, and the feeling of not having your skin covered in sticky blood was actually great. It took more time than you imagined and it gave you plenty of time to recover some of your senses as you weren't bleeding anymore. « Did you just licked my wounds ? -My saliva has healing property. It stopped bleeding. » You indeed weren't bleeding anymore. As you were going to touch your neck he stopped you. « The wounds are no closed yet. You should not touch them. -Can't you make the wound closed ? » He looked at you unsure. After all he was the one who attacked you. If he had a way for you to heal completely he should do it. « I know a way but, I don't know if you will like it.... -It's not your type to be so evasive about things... -The fact that I almost killed you kinda took me off to be honest. » You laughed at this. He was looking at you weirdly, definitely not finding any of this funny. « Okay, then » He brought one of his finger to his teeth. You were finally seeing his long, thick and sharp fangs . He cut the tip of his finger with it. He brought his cut finger to touch your wound. You were mortified for a moment, was he really putting his blood on your wound ?! But the tingly feeling that followed and the disappearance of the pain, distracted you from that. « It's done. You still have red marks but it'll disappear eventually. The best would have for you to drink it but... -I am not doing that. -That's what I thought » he said smiling lightly. The least you could say was that it was awkward. None of you wanted to talk even if you had millions of question. « So... Hum... Should I call you Edward Cullen or something » He looked at you dumbfounded. « Hell no. » New silence. « I... You know... I am an open minded person but... What the fuck happened ? » He was sitting on the sink just in front of you. « Well, long story short... Hum, we discovered that the thing who is killing all those women is like us. -A vampire. -Yeah. We thought he was a new vampire, they tented to drink way more than us that are older. » You knew it wasn't the moment but you really were wondering how old was really Sehun. « But it was definitely not a new born. -What is it then ? -We don't really know. All e learned from his attack was that his bite is poisonous » he said, rolling up his sleeve, exposing large bite mark. It was red and looked really painful. « But can't you heal or something... -Normally I can. We don't know why it didn't work this time. -And why are you healing now. You seem good... -It's thanks to you. » He looked at you, your eyes finally meeting his. « I don't really know how it works but. I guess you blood helped me healed. The blood I drank before didn't do anything. It made me sick. Yours was.... » he marked a pause « good ». You started to get a bit scared again. But it was just Sehun, the man who made you happy for years now, the man who encouraged you quitting college to pursuit your passion, the man who defended you and supported you when your family started to ignore you. The man you loved. But you knew nothing about him. You thought you knew this man. You thought he would never hurt you. But hear you were, in his kitchen, covered in blood. « I am sorry... I didn't mean it that way... Please don't be scared... » Your heart just started beating even faster. « Y/n... I swear I would never hurt you... What happened before... I don't know what it was... I love you... » Could you believe him ? You weren't so sure about that. Him being an immortal, super powerful being wasn't helping you. Did you love him tho ? Yes. Yes you loved him with your entire heart. « Why did you lie to me ? » It was a stupid question. You didn't see how he would have told you the truth. It seems like a secret and how would he have been able to tell you the truth after you started becoming friends.

« I am not supposed to tell anything to you. And honestly even if I had told you, would you have believed me. A crazy guy telling you he is a vampire ? » Yeah, you would have never believed him. Everything was a mess right now. Your head was starting to hurt. The only thing you wanted to do was to go back yo your apartment and sleep until next week. « I want to go home... I don't feel good. I want to sleep. » He walked toward you, putting a protective arm around you he helped you stand up. « You are right. You should be resting. I am going to drive you back to your apartment. -I can drive, don't worry. -No you can't. I am going to drive. » It was true. Your vision was blurry and your ears were starting to buzz. « You are right. I don't feel good at all. -Come on. » He said, wrapping you in a coat. He opened the door of the apartment, still holding you close to him. As soon as you were outside he put his arm under your legs, lifting  you up in his arms. « I am going to throw up. -If you do this I threw you away. » You wanted to laugh but you had no energy. The ride back home was fast and silent. You could finally walk on your own, still using Sehun as a cane. He helped you with everything, from taking your shoes off to taking a bath, he even prepared you a sandwich. It was the least he could do in the end, after all he was the one who hurt you. Finally, you threw yourself on your bed, your eyes closed, ready to fall asleep at any moment. « Get under the cover at least... -Leave me alone. -What a way to talk to someone who just scrubbed your feet. -You scrubbed my back you liar... » He took the cover from under your body, putting it on you. « Good night » You woke up in the middle of the night. From someone knocking at your door. It was 4 in the morning and you knew no one who would just randomly knock on your door at this hour. You got up, feeling better than some hours ago but feeling incredibly sleepy. You walked toward your door, not thinking clearly. You were alone in your apartment, Sehun had left. You watched through the hole in your door, not seing any light in the corridor. You could not see anyone. A new knock made you jumped back. Your heart was beating incredibly fast. You decided to go back to your room, trying not to make any noise. Which was stupid honestly. If your guessing was right it was completely useless. You took your phone and called Sehun once you were in your bathroom. It was the only room without a window, that was rather isolated from the door. The phone ringed once, twice... « Y/n ? What is happening ? -You are not the one knocking at my door right now ? -Someone is knocking at your door ? Who is it ? -I don't know. It's dark in the corridor. » He didn't say anything. « I am on my way. Stay away from the door. He can't come inside if you don't invite him. » You weren't that scared at the moment. It was like a big joke. « Why me ? I mean... Is it because of your fight ? -Probably. Don't move. » And he hung up. You were sitting on your bathroom floor still wondering what you did to the karma to deserve that. Maybe it was just the universe punishing you for your ignorance. You should really stay in here, wait for Sehun. But you didn't. You returned in your living room. The knock on the door were so regulate. They were resonating, the sound echoing inside your body. Suddenly you understood. The knocking were perfectly in sync with your heartbeat. You were feeling weak, and as your heart was getting faster, the knocking followed in perfect synchronization. You heard a voice in you corridor. Someone was talking. Indeed, you could see the light finally coming from outside. « What is all this noise ! Y/N ! » You looked outside, seing the old lady who was living in the apartment just in front of you. Shit. You tried not to react, but what if she was in danger. You opened your door, being careful to stay inside your apartment. « Y/n ! Didn't you hear all this knocking ? Do you know what time it is ? » You were debating what to do. Play dumb, telling to the old lady that she was crazy and that a psycho was never at your door knocking frantically. Or just saying sorry. You just wanted her to go back to her apartment. This is when you saw him, just behind your neighbor. Tall and slim, he had a wicked smile playing on his lips. Big fangs were coming out of his mouth. You were screwed, you should have listened to Sehun. « Yeah Mme Kim... You should go back to your apartment, it's really early. I'll make sure it stops » She looked at you weirdly before turning back and returning into her apartment. The vampire had disappeared. You closed the door as fast as you could. « Hey » You let out a little scream, jumping out of your bones from fear. « It's me ! » Sehun had just entered by your window. « I told you to stay in your room. -Fuck you honestly » He almost scared you to death. « Did you saw him ? -Yeah he was outside, well I guess it was him. -Chanyeol is outside. If he is trying anything we'll get him » You wanted to tell him that it was what he probably said last time. You still hugged him with all your strength, feeling him near you making you feel safe. « Hey I am here it's fine. -I know... » He opened the door, nothing was outside. It was silent. Until it wasn't. A body came crushing through your window. Glass flew everywhere, you tried protecting yourself the best you could, but without Sehun shielding you with his body you would have end up with nasty cut. « Y/n run ! » You tried but when you saw Chanyeol on the floor, blood everywhere you could not go anywhere anymore. « Perfect. I knew that if I was paying a little visit to your girlfriend you were going to run here. » He looked at you. « Thank you sweetheart, you made things way easier. » You were like paralyzed. It was impossible for you to move. To run away. It's Sehun who snatched you away, throwing you in front of him so you would go away. He opened the door of the corridor closet, shoving you inside. « Stay here ! Don't come outside ! Take this » He tried to put a weird wood stick in your hands but you were trembling too much. « Listen to me ! If he comes, you stick it with all your strength here » he pointed to hi chest, a bit on the left side. You'll never be able to do that. Never. You took the wood stick anyway, as Sehun was closing the door behind him. You could not hear anything except the beating of your own heart. How did this even happened, everything was confused. The vampire, how he entered your apartment even if you had not invited him, how he threw Chanyeol through the window. Your wrist had swollen up already, a stabbing pain paralyzing you. You heard a noise of something breaking, like someone had fell on a table. You heard a scream. You wanted to scream, your heart was beating hard ; your stomach was knotted. If you stayed in this closet you were gonna die. You didn't want to die. If you were going outside, you were going to die too. At least you would not die in a freaking closet. It took you a whole minute to got up. You were doing it, you were going to open this door and fight. You took a deep breath and turned the doorknob slowly. You opened it just a little to watch what was happening. Sehun was currently on the ground. You could not see the other vampire but you could hear him. He was speaking thought. You could not hear him but you were able to see Sehun's face. Seing him hurt was unbearable to you. You needed to help him. The vampire come into view, he was holding Chanyeol by his hair dragging him on the ground ; « You see, I pity you a bit. Having power but choosing not to use them. » Sehun didn't say anything. « Vampire blood is disgusting. But drink it and you'll be able to overcome the limit that is imposed to our species. » Chanyeol tried to move but the vampire thew him away like he was nothing. « I am going to drink your blood and then I'll drink your girlfriend's to make the disgusting taste of yours pass. » You opened the door completely, the wood stick in your hand. The vampire, by some miracle, was so focused on proceeding to drink your boyfriend's blood that he was not paying attention to you. Sehun saw you, but he tried not to focus himself on you too much not wanting to blow your cover. You had two options. You could try to be discrete and walk thought your living room but the floor was cover in glass. Your feet were going to die, and there was also the high possibility that you were going to make noises and attract his attention. Second, you could just go for it. Run like you never run before, loosing your feet on the way but you may have the effect of surprise on your side. The vampire was holding forcefully Sehun's head on the ground to make access for his neck. He was going to sink his fangs, when you started to run. Your head was blank, You were just holding your weapon, and you were going to kill him. You didn't even feel the pain in your feet as thousands of little piece of glass were piercing your feet. You didn't even believe it when with all your strength and your impulse to sink the wood blade inside the vampire. The blade sink in perfectly, you have no time to look if you succeed as the vampire flip over and send you on the other side of the room with a hit. The last thing you saw before everything goes black is a dark silouhette swooping another one. « Y/n, can you hear me ? » Your body felt good, everything was soft. You opened your eyes slowly, everything was blurry. « Take your time baby » It was Sehun. You looked at him once your eyes started working normally again. « How are you feeling ? -I feel good » you said. It was true, even your feet did not fell painful. Sehun did not have any scratches on his side. Vampire ability you thought. He leaned closer to you. « I thought I was going to lose you on this one. I told you to stayed in the closet. » You wanted to laugh. « I save your ass, be grateful » He laughed, kissing your forehead. « I feel good. Why ? I am sure I should be dying right now. -I gave you blood. You should be okay. -I am not going to turn into a vampire right ? » He laughed again. « No, you are not. » He took your hand and squeeze it gently. His thumb was circling soft circle on your hand. It felt good, reassuring, and you needed it. You were terrified. You were terrified of Sehun's world, of how since you knew about it you were in danger. You were scared of yourself. Because you just stabbed a man. And you were not regretting anything. If you had to you would do it again. « I love you so much, I was so scared I was going to lose you. » You looked at him in the eyes and smiled. « I love you too. But please don't make me kill someone again. I don't think I can handle it » He didn't laugh. He kissed your hand in a sweet motions. He didn't say anything either but in his eyes you could see so much. It was not going to happen ever again.

[recentanimenews]

10 Horror Movie References That Have Been Hidden In Anime

    It's Friday the 13th! It's a harvest moon! Spooky fun shall be had by all! And to kick off the good times we have a collection of blatant horror movie references hidden inside your favorite anime. And the best part of all? Not only does horror anime include Easter eggs paying homage to classic horror movies and tropes, but comedic family-friendly fare has even gone the way the of the darkness from time-to-time. You know what they say: We all go a little mad sometimes.

Shiki And Salem's Lot

  When you think of horror, you think of Stephen King, especially in this modern resurgence full of remakes, reboots, and brand new adaptations of the horror master's prolific body of work. So, it makes sense that horror anime would be influenced by the writer and rumor has it, that's exactly how Fuyumi Ono got the inspiration for the vampire manga Shiki having reportedly dedicated the story "To Salem's Lot." The similarities are hard to ignore. Both take place in small towns that battle a mysterious illness following the arrival of new residents. The illness, of course, is vampirism, and the battle between humans and vamps can only end in flames.

Ghost In The Shell: Stand Alone Complex And Silence Of The Lambs

    One of the scariest horror stories ever conceived of? Yes. Inspiration for an anime episode? Also, yes. Season 1, Episode 10 of Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex "Jungle Cruise" features a serial killer that skins women just like Buffalo Bill in Silence of the Lambs. And if you're thinking that's enough evidence of the obvious homage, the episode makes it even more clear. One scene shows butterflies or moths on a corpse (moths were a huge theme in Silence of the Lambs,) with the killer collecting them and even placing a cocoon inside the mouth of one of his victims. Even more telling is that, in the anime, the skin is cut off in a design similar to a t-shirt, directly referencing Buffalo Bill's skin dress.

Sailor Moon R: The Movie And Tons Of Zombie Stuff

Zombies are everywhere these days and with good reason. They have always stood in for the existential dread we face as a species. They also make a great blank slate for whatever happens to be eating us up as a society at any given time. Modern zombies are created in labs or contract some terrible mutation of a disease. But we all remember the old school zombies thrusting their hands through the dirt over their graves as they crawl out to feast on our brains. And Sailor Moon R: The Movie delivers that last one in spades.

Another And Final Destination

  If you've heard of a bunch of teenagers being chased by a supernatural force that wants them all dead and is willing to try any manner of convoluted traps and triggers to make it happen and your first thought was Final Destination, you would be correct. And if it were Another, you would also be correct. Both series see an unworldly force (a curse in Another, death in Final Destination) that employs complicated, Rube Goldbergian traps to kill off classmates in increasingly intricate ways.

Kirby: Right Back At Ya! And Psycho

Many of these series are creepy and spooky in their own right. So, while it's fun to hunt down the horror movie Easter eggs they contain, these homages may not come as a total surprise. But Kirby is such a sweet, innocent, pink blob. Who would suspect the godfather of slasher films to be directly called out in such a kid-friendly show? Bonus points for replacing Norman Bates' knife with King Dedede's iconic hammer.

Rosario + Vampire And All The Slasher Movies

Girls. Can. Be. Villains. Too. Stealing each other's clothes, gossiping about boyfriends, dressing up like classic slasher movie villains and trying to fight each other. Sister stuff. In Rosario + Vampire, we see that Kokoa held good on her word to hunt down and fight sister Moka ... and she made sure to add some Halloween flair by dressing up as all kinds of iconic killers in the process from Freddy to Ghostface.

JoJo's Bizarre Adventure And The Shining

To be fair, JoJo's Bizarre Adventure references practically everything. And the show is, well, weird enough all on its own. But the reference to Stanley Kubrick's adaptation of Stephen King's (again!) The Shining is impossible to ignore. After Polnareff turns into a child and tries to hide from Alessi in a bathroom, Alessi breaks apart the door with an ax, shoving his face through the newly made hole to perform his best Jack Nicholson impersonation with an eerie, "Polnareff, I'm here."

Zombie Land Saga And The Godfather Of Zombies

Before there was Robert Kirkman, there was George A. Romero. Romero is directly responsible for -- by both writing and directing -- many of the zombie movie classics horror fans have come to know and love. Night of the Living Dead, Day of the Dead, Dawn of the Dead ... basically all of the deads. So, of course, Zombie Land Saga, a series crawling with zombies, had to pay their respects to the man that started it all. This adorably decaying puppy's name is, you guessed it, Romero.

Soul Eater And Twin Peaks

Twin Peaks! Pretty much every type of fan is obsessed with that show, right? Horror geeks, sci-fi nerds, mystery lovers. No one can get enough of the small town supernatural series. Maybe that's what makes Soul Eater the perfect anime for such a relatable reference. The show has some supernatural elements, sure, but it's also chock full of comedy and action. Whatever the reason behind this Easter egg, there's little doubt most viewers instantly recognized Twin Peaks' memorable red room.

The Promised Neverland And H.P. Lovecraft

Right in the very first episode, The Promised Neverland lays all its horrific cards out on the table as the characters' worlds are torn apart when they learn dark, mind-shattering truths throughout the episode. The creatures that plague The Promised Neverland characters are big, grotesque, and have an air of extraterrestrial-ness about them, perfectly recalling H.P. Lovecraft's unique style.

Hope we didn't spook you too much with these creepy horror movie shout-outs because it's time to go watch your favorite scary anime in honor of this ominous day!

What's your favorite horror moment in anime? Let us know in the comments!

    ----

  Carolyn also writes for Bunny Ears and Cracked. Follow her on Twitter and Instagram.

Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: news+feed@crunchyroll.com

[my-proof-is-you]

Healing You - Ch. 1

Summary: You were pretty close to dying, you were sure. It was going to be over, and what would you have to show for it?

A great career as a nurse, sure. But you lacked passion and romance in your life.

Luckily, a handsome man with piercing green eyes saves you. While you were sure you’d never see him again, life had other plans for you.

Chapter 1

You rolled your eyes and blinked harshly in pain when you felt the needle hit muscle instead of your vein.

This moron—whatever he was—could not find a vein for the life of him. Being that you were a nurse, you were tempted to snatch it away from him and do it yourself. Even if that would be aiding in your own death.

You took a deep breath as he prepared to insert the needle again, the dank smell of the basement filling your nostrils. You were certain that with each breath there were mold spores finding their way into your lungs.

You shifted your eyes away from your bruised arm and the imbecile that caused it and focused on the girl in the chair a few feet away. She was hanging on by a thread, the blood loss too great to keep her conscious. You knew that at any moment she could stop breathing.

“Oh, my God, you would think you’d be an expert at this by now!” you yelled angrily at the thing. It bore its fangs at you before slapping your face with the back of his hand.

You knew it was stupid to say anything, but you just couldn’t handle the incompetence. You had been named head nurse at the hospital where you worked at a fairly young age. You were good at your job, and the hospital recognized that. Every nursing student you had taught since then could find a patient’s vein on the first try. They practiced on countless oranges and each other until you knew they were experts at drawing blood and inserting IVs.

So watching this douche who was going to kill you anyway was almost too much to bear.

He finally got it and you watched as your warm blood filled the tube that was connected to a blood bag. He walked up the creaky wooden stairs before pushing open the cellar door. A short burst of light came in and you knew it was still daytime. Which day, though, was something you weren’t sure of.

You were pretty sure they were vampires. You gave yourself about thirty seconds to freak out about their existence when they first captured you before making yourself accept it and move on.

These vampires were not what you expected, though. It seemed that they captured people, slowly collected their blood, and disposed of them when they died. It was unlike any story of vampires you had heard before. These vampires didn’t bite into your neck to suck your blood, or turn into bats, or even seem all that affected by sunlight.

You started to feel woozy from the loss of blood and you knew it would only be a day or two more before you were looking like the girl next to you. She had been conscious a few times here or there and you had been able to find out that she had been captured only a few days before you.

They had been giving you water, presumably to keep you alive longer and keep you producing blood for the time being. You knew, though, that it would be too hard for them to keep up with after a while, and they would let you die.

You hadn’t thought about death for a long time. As a nurse, you saw death a lot. But your own death was something you thought wouldn’t come until you were old.

Before you knew that you wanted to be a nurse—when you were still pretty young—you couldn’t picture yourself doing any job when you grew up. Most kids said they wanted to be a fireman or a dentist. But not you. You were oddly morbid as a child, and your little mind thought that maybe not knowing what you wanted to do meant that you wouldn’t get the chance to grow up—that maybe you were going to die at a young by age.

Maybe I was right, you think to yourself. This would definitely still be considered dying young. Of course, you found your calling when you graduated high school, and after you went to nursing school and got your RN you never looked back. At the age of 27, you were pretty pleased with your life.

The one thing that bummed you out, though—besides the no longer living part—was that you didn’t feel that you ever met your one true love.

You had boyfriends in the past, but none of them were long term and most turned out to be jerks. You never knew true passion, and that was definitely something you regretted while facing death.

Little black spots began to appear in your vision, and you knew unconsciousness was coming soon. You didn’t fight it. You just let it take you away from your worries and regrets and into the silence.

Dean

“Dude, ten missing people in two weeks. That sounds pretty monster-y to me.”

Dean shoved the newspaper in his little brother’s face, aching to get out of the bunker and on a hunt.

“Yeah, that’s weird, but what if it’s just a serial killer?” Sam asked.

“Either way!” Dean exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “We’ve dealt with monsters and bat-shit humans before. I’m just sayin, we gotta get out of here or I’m gonna lose it,” he continued, wiping a hand down his face. 

It had been two weeks since the brothers’ last hunt, and Dean had grown tired of the dark walls of the underground bunker they lived in. He wanted—no, needed—to get out and drive his baby, his beloved Impala.

Sam ran his hands through his chestnut hair with a sigh. “Okay. But if it’s another bunch of crazies like the Benders, we’re out of there.”

Sam had been kidnapped by a crazy cannibal family in the past, and Dean understood his caution toward that happening again. He also somehow knew in his gut that this wasn’t the work of humans, though.

Dean practically jumped with happiness when Sam said they could go, and he grabbed his keys and his go-bag before rushing to the garage door like an excited puppy. He didn’t even care if that was how he came off. He just needed to be in his car with his windows down and music blaring.

A few hours later they were pulling up to an old house off a dirt road after talking to several locals. They had figured out that there were some newcomers in the small town, and they hadn’t gone unnoticed. When they had been questioned about the kidnappings from the local police, they came up clean. Sam and Dean knew better, though. Many monsters knew how to blend in and what to say to throw off suspicion.

They knocked cracked wooden front door to the house and waited for someone to answer. When no one did, they decided to snoop around the side of the house and see if they could see through any windows.

All the windows were covered except for one spot where a blanket had been moved, causing a small corner view into the house. Dean wiped the dust from the window with his sleeve and looked inside.

It was dark inside the house. The window showed into the living room, where five men were sleeping in different spots. Some were on a big, ratty couch and some were on the floor. Dean was thankful that they hadn’t heard when he and Sam knocked on the door.Just from the fact that they were all sleeping during the day he was nearly positive that they were vampires. Getting any living hostages out would be a lot easier with them asleep since they could get in and kill them while they slept.

Sam and Dean got in and took off all the vamps’ heads quickly and with little effort. They searched the house, but didn’t find any hostages. In fact, they didn’t even find any bodies or traces of blood.

“Dean!” Sam called from the kitchen.

Dean walked in with his machete ready just in case. Sam was standing in front of the refrigerator, the door open wide. Inside, where there should have been food, were piles and piles of blood bags.

“What kind of weirdo vamps were these?” Dean asked, picking up one of the bags.

“I don’t know, but we know these didn’t come from a hospital. They must have been taking blood from the victims and storing it.”

“Which means some of them might still be alive,” Dean concluded.

“But we checked everywhere, Dean. Where else could they be?” Sam asked.

Dean thought back over every inch of the house. He even thought about the outside, which was when he remembered seeing a cellar door.

“The cellar,” he said quietly. Both brothers immediately ran outside. When they reached the cellar door it was padlocked, but a quick trip to the Impala later they had the lock cut open.

They crept down the stairs in case any more vamps were there. 

Sam and Dean split up when they reached the bottom, each one untying a victim from their chair.

Dean knelt down when he had you untied. He lightly tapped your face, trying to see if he could get you to come to.

After a few moments, your y/e/c eyes fluttered open and landed on Dean.

“Hey, don’t worry, I’m not a vampire,” Dean explained quickly. You looked skeptical but nodded as you noticed that you were untied.

“You have to get me over there,” you said in a raspy voice. Dean’s eyebrows crinkled in confusion. He followed your gaze over to the other victim, a young blonde that Sam was still trying to wake.

You started to get up and Dean watched as you wobbled. He quickly stood up as well and wrapped an arm around your waist to help support you. When you reached the girl you immediately put your fingers to her neck.

“Her pulse is thready. She won’t make it much longer. We have to get her to a hospital,” you said. Sam and Dean just stared at you, surprised. You looked back and forth between the men, your hand going to your hip. “Now!” you yelled. The brothers swept into action, Sam picking the girl up and carrying her up the stairs, while Dean continued to help you walk.

“Those things dead?” You asked quietly after you were up the stairs and Dean walked you to the car.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Thank you—“ you gestured questioningly.

“Dean,” he filled in for you.

“Dean,” you finished, nodding. Your face was serious, but Dean noticed that it lacked any fear. “I’m Y/N.”

[victorluvsalice]

AU Thursday: Lovecraft Jazz, Meet Deadly Premonition

All right -- I brought this up twice last week, both in a regular AU Thursday post and as part of a discussion of Hope's role in the Lovecraft Jazz AU (Hope, for those not in the know, is the Queen Wins!Victor's Pomeranian. He first appeared in an ask on my first Secundus!Victor RP account (I'd started Queen Wins as a separate universe there) as the Annoying Dog from Undertale, crashing through the window of Richard's shop; QW!Victor promptly adopted the pup, and he's stuck around doing weird things in anon asks ever since. I made him a Pom when I recreated the Valice pets in Sims 4 since that seemed to best mimic what the Annoying Dog looked like), so let's have some expansion on this crossover idea already.

First, for context: Deadly Premonition is a video game where you play as FBI agent Francis York Morgan (call him York, that's what everyone calls him), who goes to small town Greenvale to investigate the murder of a young waitress, and how it ties into some other murders he's been investigating, all linked by red seeds. Simple enough premise, right?

Trust me, this game is so much more. It's a flawed classic along the lines of Vampire: the Masquerade -- Bloodlines -- the game itself is janky and glitchy as all hell, but the story and characters are absolutely fantastic. My main LPer Helloween4545 did a LP of it recently, and you can watch it here if you want the experience without having to fight with the controls/deal with the game crashing on you. If you like the show Twin Peaks, or just really quirky and dramatic stuff with super inappropriate music at times, you'll probably enjoy it!

As for the crossover -- well, basically, beyond shifting the time period to the late 1920s, I'd be using my gang to fix some of the more depressing parts of the narrative. The details are going under a cut, because MAJOR SPOILERS. Seriously, huge ones. Tweaked for the time period a bit, but still. Read on only if you don't mind that. (Or watch the LP and save this post for later.)

-->The group first meets York as part of the Innsmouth mess -- he's one of the BoI agents investigating the "smuggling operation" going on there. They get along pretty well, since York is considered kind of a weirdo by his other agents, and he's the only one not particularly phased by Siren. (He's a little surprised, but gets over it quickly.)

-->Later on, while exploring the Dreamlands, Alice stumbles across one of York's dreams and says hello. York tells her he's on his way to Greenvale to investigate the murder of a young girl named Anna Graham -- Alice, upon realizing Greenvale isn't too far from where they are currently, says they'll meet up with him there and they can do a bit of reconnecting when he isn't busy with his case.

-->And then the group gets pulled into said case, thanks to a few key events:

A) Emily meeting the local policewoman, Emily Wyatt, and the two bonding a bit over having the same first name

B) Victor meeting Forrest Kaysen, and his dog Willie hating Victor's dog Hope on sight -- the feeling is mutual, and the two men just barely avoid a dog fight. Victor is baffled, as Hope seemed to like everybody before now

C) Lizzie visiting the club of Carol Maclaine, the sister of local policeman Thomas, and stumbling upon the weird sex dungeon downstairs -- and then being hidden in a closet by Thomas (dressed in a wig and red dress) before she can escape, letting her see that Thomas and the local sheriff, George Woodman, have kind of a -- fucked-up sexual relationship. Thomas apologizes after George leaves, and Lizzie, feeling really bad for him, says he can talk if he needs to and that "Thomas, just remember -- you really CAN do better"

D) Victor starting to have strange dreams of following Hope through a bright white forest -- and then, suddenly, coming across the murder victim! Anna tells him she's become a Goddess of the Forest and to pass along to her mother that she's okay now and she's sorry for getting involved with George.

-->That, plus a little more encouragement on Lizzie's part, gets Thomas to confess the truth -- GEORGE killed Anna as the first part of a ritual to make him into a "god," inspired by the legend of an old serial killer in the town, The Red Cape Killer. He also says local girl Becky was part of their little group and she's likely to be the next victim -- there's a race to her house, and they manage to catch George in the act of cutting her open. Some hasty field medicine from Bonejangles keeps her alive long enough to get her to the local hospital, and George is taken into custody.

-->However, while everyone's relieved that they've caught the killer, York isn't so sure his case is over. He reveals that the reason he's in Greenvale is because Anna's death is only the latest in dozens of murders he's investigating, all linked by the same strange upside-down symbol and red seeds. While he's willing to accept George committed the Greenvale murder, there's obviously more to this story. The gang do some digging, and eventually get help from Harry Stewart, the richest and most powerful man in town, who informs them of a dark incident in the town's past where someone covered Greenvale in a sinister purple fog that drove the local inhabitants to attack and kill each other. The Red Cape Killer was one of the affected (Harry's own father, in fact), and simply the most successful. The incident was buried in town memory, and the Red Cape Killer lived on as an urban legend.

-->While all this is going on, they also learn more about York's friend Zach -- a mysterious invisible figure who apparently came to York shortly after York's father murdered his mother, then himself. Alice wonders if Zach is like her Wonderland friends and offers to help him traverse the Dreamlands if he wants to get out more -- this leads to a rather interesting situation where they end up in one of Thomas's dreams, and Zach proves that, while York's into Emily W, he quite likes Thomas. Thomas, still a little raw from the situation with George, is thrilled by this turn of events, even if he's not sure how the heck any relationship between them would work.

-->And then Kaysen tries to kidnap the two Emilys, Victoria, Alice, and Lizzie. They manage to fight him off (though poor Emily W gets a mouthful of red seeds in the process and has to be taken to the hospital). Turns out he's the one behind the red seed killings, murdering innocent women by literally planting trees in them -- all for fun too! He's also the one behind the purple fog incident -- oh, and turns out he's the one who actually killed York's, or rather Zach's, mother, and his father killed himself out of grief. Yes, Zach is actually the original owner of the body, and York the Dreamland presence who came along to help him. Everyone's rather stunned by this revelation, as you might expect.

-->Oh, also, Kaysen's not human. He's in fact a minor eldritch creature from the Red Forest, an evil realm in the Dreamlands. Willie is his partner and handler, relaying orders from the Red Tree that "rules" the forest. When they're confronted, they warp into more horrific forms -- in Willie's case, a demonic Doberman-like creature.

And then Hope becomes a frigging wolf.

Yup, turns out in this world, Hope is a representative of the White Forest, the good counterpart to the Red Forest (and the place Victor's been ending up in his dreams lately) -- and he is eager to kick Willie's ass. Zach takes care of Kaysen while Hope defeats Willie, with some help from the other members of the group.

-->Afterwards, Hope brings everyone to the White Forest, where they receive some information on how to cleanse the town of the Red Tree's taint -- and, ideally, as a boon, Zach and York each get their own body so they don't have to work out some sort of weird timeshare arrangement for their respective relationships.

-->York reunites with Emily W, Zach and Thomas get together, and the group helps the townsfolk clean the soil and uproot every red tree they can find before planting some white trees in their place and taking their leave to help the next unfortunate place beseiged by abominations.

-->Basically, the whole point of this is to stop every main character besides Zach dying (although I guess York doesn't so much die as ascend to the same plane as the Goddesses), and to get my police boyfriends because damn it I shipped Thomas and York so freaking hard before the revelation that Thomas had been so broken by the murders and George's abuse he was willing to kill Emily W.

...Anybody else find it weird I'm resorting to a Lovecraft-inspired universe to get happy endings?

[hotelconcierge]

HYPOCRISY IS BAD, BUT YOU’RE WORSE

“I like the Walrus best," said Alice, "because you see he was a little sorry for the poor oysters.” “He ate more than the Carpenter, though,” said Tweedledee. “You see he held his handkerchief in front, so that the Carpenter couldn't count how many he took: contrariwise.” “That was mean!” Alice said indignantly. “Then I like the Carpenter best—if he didn't eat so many as the Walrus.” “But he ate as many as he could get,” said Tweedledum. This was a puzzler. After a pause, Alice began, “Well! They were both very unpleasant characters—” (Through the Looking-Glass)

This is a moviepost—extensive spoilers follow for Death Proof, Jackie Brown, and Inglourious Basterds—and I wrote it mostly because I wanted to talk about some movies. But first, a topical tie-in:

There is always an outside that a person considers unworthy of life...The individual progressive or racist may never say that the outside is unworthy of rights, but they feel it. This is what is meant by that line from Inglorious Bastards when the character of Lt. Aldo Raine says; the "Nazi ain't got no humanity. They're the foot soldiers of a jew-hating, mass-murdering maniac and they need to be de-stroyed!"

Here we have a thirst to destroy the perceived inferior, except instead of a racist seeking the end of Jews it is the progressive liberal seeking the genocide of racists. That's irony.

And understand what is happening here. Aldo Raine is really a proxy for Quentin Tarantino. Tarantino is the one speaking, not Brad Pitt. The man is very left-wing and he wrote the script. That move is essentially an exposition of the directors [sic] politics.

The above quote is taken from The Anti-Puritan. Exactly what it sounds like: dude read three Moldbug posts and now thinks he can write. The specifics of this guy’s bad opinions are not that interesting—would you believe that even the videogame industry has been corrupted by cultural Marxism?—but perhaps something can be learned from the framing:

A climate scientist drives to an important summit on global warming. On the way there, he fills up his tank with gas. The only reason oil companies are in business and climate change is occurring is because of people like him who fill up their tanks with gas. Their payments make climate change possible. The payments are the reason Exxon, Shell and BP exist.

A feminist complains about the cis het patriarchy. Her boyfriend, whom she spreads her legs for, is tall, strong, confident, manly, and "dominant" in every way. Fucking dominant men is the reason they exist, the reason they will continue to exist, and the cultural incentive to become dominant...She and billions of other women perpetuate "the patriarchy" with their sexual choices. Patriarchy exists because of them.

A college professor complains about McDonald's. She has eaten fast food from a burger restaurant recently. She, and millions [of] others, are the reason McDonald's exists. (Source)

Let’s accept that there’s a lot to unpack here and move on. Focus instead on the form of the argument: tu quoque, again and again. The feebler the discourse the more accusations of hypocrisy (Bush Lied, Barack Hussein’d) because hypocrisy doesn’t require knowledge of anything but pre-algebra logic. Even a child can identify a contradiction: “But mom! You said—!”

This is precisely the skull malformation that has constricted discussion of the protestors who identify as “Antifascist Action” and are derided as the “alt-left.” Antifa has already become a perennial non-issue where all opinions are based on anecdote and there are plenty of anecdotes to go around; no one has skin in the game, anyone can upvote, and measurable achievements are dwarfed by spikes of indignation like hypertensive hemorrhages into America’s brain. If you don’t believe me, you haven’t been watching the stock prices of PP, NRA, PETA, and BLM.

Antifa now faces the two attacks that were long ago formulated against other activist groups. One: antifa is composed of violent morons who carry upon them body and pubic lice species yet to be classified by science. Two: antifa is counterproductive to their stated goal, e.g. getting to whack-a-mole pamphleteers is actually a powerful incentive to suffer for fashion.

I suspect both criticisms are true, but whatever—does the first imply the second? Is violence bad even when it is effective? Because if it isn’t, then claiming that “antifa are thugs too!” is worse than useless. Your opponent can simply reply, “So what? Nazi ain't got no humanity.” And now that you’ve cried wolf, that guy won’t listen when you claim that, in this instance, violence might not work. So you better be damn sure about your answer: what price should be paid for the sin of hypocrisy?

There is always an outside that a person considers unworthy of life...

Quentin Tarantino has dedicated his career to answering this question. 

QT has seen too many movies for it to be any other way. If you consume enough art across epoch and genre, you can’t help arrive at the Susan Sontag #redpill that content doesn’t matter all that much. All art is genre fiction no matter the pretensions and our lizard brain judges accordingly. Sure, thematic analysis is fun to play with after the fact, but if a movie has the right tropes in the right places—femme fatales, tough muchachos, pretty pictures, happy ending—well, you can convince yourself of just about anything.

Take, for example, Death Proof. Genre: exploitation/slasher. Synopsis: hot babes go for a night out, ex-stuntman stalks and runs ‘em down in a death-proof car; stuntman rinses and repeats with another girl gang except they turn the tables and Mortal Kombat his thoracic spine. Rating: extremely badass, you should check it out, anyone who tells you different is a pleb.

Namely: some people complain that the movie has too many scenes of girls talking and that their QT-isms are an unrealistic depiction of an actual group chat. The characters bicker lewdly, if that’s a thing, alternating between weirdly masculine sex-as-status teasing and pledges of undying affection, the verbal equivalent of a catfight, which is maybe how a creepy foot fetishist would imagine female dialogue, but...

Nope, still pleb. Tarantino wasn’t the first guy to invoke this trope, it’s part of the DNA of the slasher genre, as old as Jamie Lee Curtis getting razzed for her virginity in Halloween. Misogyny, maybe, but also content is a spook. Slasher movies have to fill 70 minutes before the eponymous slashing, and they also have to make you care about the outcome of said slashing without humanizing the characters so much that you get all Marley and Me when they die. 

What’s the secret? Status games, the less nuance the better. Boys would watch paint dry if you said it was a grudge match. Catfighting is no different than the elaboration of powers in a shonen manga or the suspicious glares exchanged between heist movie protagonists: it creates tension. Different value systems have been described, there can only be one, now you’re rooting for process of elimination to reveal the truth. No—you identify with that process. Hail Gnon. You could make a movie with men playing status games and being killed off by women and men would still find it hot; I know this because of female horrorcore rappers but also because this movie is called Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! and it’s 10/10. Incidentally:

This is referenced again in the final scene of the film, in which the viewer cheers on our group of heroines as they beat to death a pleading, injured man.

Here’s the hot take: tote bag feminists are wrong to think that drawing boobs on Powergirl is a male attempt to diminish her power. On the contrary, the more vampire slaying the better. Sexualization is an attempt to gain access to female power: if she wants The Phallus badly enough, she might just lend her power to you. Obverse: men are idiots for thinking that the existence of rape fantasies means that women secretly want to be raped. There’s an image floating around the manosphere about that terrorist with a heart of gold, Ted Kaczynski, who was gauche with ladies in the free world but deluged in love letters upon his incarceration. Before you can say medium = message, someone tragically rendered celibate by their 23andMe results will point to this as proof that women “only want serial killers.” Newsflash: Kaczynski is serving eight life sentences without possibility of parole. Do you think the fangirls didn’t know that? Rape fantasies (theoretically “hot”) are qualitatively different than being raped (“unimaginably horrific”) because you construct the former, can turn it off at any time. The fantasy victim is assaulted by a terrible power, but the person who selects and controls that power is...

Of course it is, cough, problematic, that slasher movie girls display power through HPV vaccinations while male zombie apocalypse survivors soliloquize on whether suicide is inevitable in the absence of God. But once you sexistly set up that women should be valued by their sin, the wages = death equation is not in and of itself misogynistic. No, it’s just inevitable: sex-as-status tension can only be relieved in two ways and one of them is frowned upon in theaters. Film crit cliché and Kraftwerk song, I know, but: watching a movie renders you impotent—you can’t interact with the sexy image on the screen—except through what the camera will allow.

That’s why you are complicit in the murders that occur in the first half of Death Proof. The ex-stuntman—old, a teetotaler, star of TV shows long forgotten (and played by once-famous Kurt Russell)—is as impotent as you are, capable of getting a deleted scene lap dance but zero penetration, and when he gets in his car to commit vehicular homicide x4, he looks at the camera and smiles. Because you’re right there with him, waiting for the money shot. It would be nice to fuck, but you’ll settle for a murder. Except when it actually happens, played four times for your amusement, it’s horrible—a face melted off by a tire, a wet leg flapping in the street. Throw in a Wilhelm scream. Wasn’t that what you wanted? Are you not entertained?

It’s all perspective, my man. For all the short shorts and naughty words, the girls plan and backup plan ways to prevent unwanted sexual advances; two of them have boyfriends and one is texting a crush trying to seal the deal; they discuss and decide against inviting the opposite sex to their lakeside vacation. But that’s not what you see from the outside. That’s not where your attention is drawn, wandering the club and editing your .jpg of grievances. For you, dancefloor means sex, choker necklace means slut, and being a slut means she would never sleep with you. That’s a personal insult. And that means that nothing else matters.

Which is insane. This isn’t an argument for or against promiscuity, the point is you don’t even know promiscuity looks like. You know symbols, and for that matter, why those symbols, where did you learn those? Brazzers? If you’re gonna be mad at a thing you should at least be mad at the thing itself, not at whatever fucked up fetish you’ve imposed on reality.

There’s a scene midway through the movie where QT tips his hand. The second girl gang is lounging in a car, one of them dangling her feet out the window. The ex-stuntman approaches, you assume his perspective, and maybe because it’s an old grindhouse film...

...but the color goes out, and everything is black and white.

Which, speaking of:

Jackie Brown is first and foremost a movie about being extremely cool all the time (you should watch it). The plot is an excuse: briefly, Pam Grier (airline stewardess), Robert Forster (bail bondsman), Samuel L Jackson (arms dealer), Robert De Niro (ex-convict), Bridget Fonda (stoner surfer chick) and a couple Feds each try to nab a briefcase holding $500K.

Jackie Brown is secondarily a movie about how race shapes each and every human interaction, but that description makes it sound like a Very Special Episode, and that couldn’t be more wrong. The movie is gleefully amoral, in fact lapses from pure MacGuffinism are treated as intolerable weakness, e.g. Jackson to De Niro:

ORDELL: You know what your problem is, Louis?

Louis doesn't say anything, he just puts his hands in his pockets.

ORDELL: You think you're a good guy. When you go into a deal you don't go in prepared to take that motherfucker all the way. You go in looking for a way out. And it ain't cause you're scared neither. It's cause you think you're a good guy, and you think there's certain things a good guy won't do. That's where we're different, me and you. Cause me, once I decide I want something, ain’t a goddam motherfuckin' thing gonna stop me from gittin' it. I gotta use a gun get what I want, I'm gonna use a gun. Nigga gets in my way, nigga gonna get removed. Understand what I'm saying?

Apparently not, because De Niro later makes this mistake and gets popped.

For these characters, race is just another weapon. When Jackson meets Forster for the first time, he lights a cigarette, puts his feet up on the desk, and taps out the ash in a partly full coffee cup. Then he points out a photo of Forster with a black employee. “Y’all tight?” “Yeah.” “But you his boss though, right?” “Yeah.” “Bet it was your idea to take that picture too, wasn’t it...?” In their second encounter, Jackson, trying to get bail for Grier, pulls the same trick:

ORDELL: Man, you know I'm good for it. Thousand bucks ain't shit. 

MAX: If I don't see it in front of me, you're right. It ain't shit. 

ORDELL: Man, you need to look at this with a little compassion. Jackie ain't no criminal. She ain't used to this kinda treatment. I mean, gangsters don't give a fuck - but for the average citizen, coupla nights in County fuck with your mind. 

MAX: Ordell, this isn't a bar, an you don't have a tab. 

ORDELL: Just listen for a second. We got a forty-year-old, gainfully employed black woman, falsely accused - 

MAX: Falsely accused? She didn't come back from Mexico with cocaine on her?

ORDELL: Falsely accused of Intent. If she had that shit - and mind you, I said "if" - it was just her shit to get high with. 

MAX: Is white guilt supposed to make me forget I'm running a business?

But Forster—male lead, the “good guy”—plays his version of the race card and flips the script.

Example 2: Bridget Fonda, surfer gal, plots to betray Jackson, who “moves his lips when he reads,” "let's say he's streetwise, I'll give him that.” But Jackson knows that she sees him that way, it makes her predictable, which is why he can keep her around: “You can’t trust Melanie, but you can always trust Melanie to be Melanie.”

That’s not the half of it. Jackson talks a soon-dead man into getting in the trunk of an Oldsmobile, houses a homeless addict in Compton and tells her it’s Hollywood; he lies effortlessly, and when drafting your fantasy friend group you should be aware that people who lie effortlessly do it because it’s fun. Threatening someone gets you an automaton who will system 2 your demands and nothing more. Deceiving someone gives you control over that person’s soul. So Fonda’s stoned delusions of manipulating him—which in fact make her easier to manipulate—are part of her appeal. Translated: “She ain't as pretty as she used to be, and she bitch a whole lot more than she used to...But she white.”

Except Fonda is manipulating him. She’s spent her adulthood as the side piece for Dubai businessmen and Japanese industrialists who—though she doesn’t even speak the language—get off on the fact that she’s a haughty blonde who thinks she’s better than them, thinks she can manipulate them. But since they’re paying for rent and weed, doesn’t that mean...?

Example 3: Pam Grier as Jackie Brown.

From more Sam Jackson than Sam Jackson to mumblecore for Medicare, Jackie outsmarts everyone and it’s not even close. The Feds lean into their uniforms but she doesn’t miss a beat: urbane dinner guest in one scene, “panicked, defensive, unreasonable black woman” in another. Of course the movie ends the way it does, of course. Jackson steps into a dark room. Jackie screams “he’s got a gun!” And a cop pulls the trigger. You can’t always beat the system, but if you try sometimes, it just might beat who you need.

Why does Jackie win? The canon explanation is that she’s an airline stewardess: her job is to tell people of all origins what they want to hear. The meta explanation is she’s played by blaxploitation star Pam Grier. The gimmick of Grier movies like Coffy and Foxy Brown is their exaggeration of the audience’s favored tropes re: sex and race—say, hypersexuality and fashionable/wearable blackness. But the punchline of these films is that on-screen, Pam Grier with an afro is disguising herself as an high-class escort to fool the baddies: “The gentlemen you’ll be meeting this evening have a preference for…your type.” And then she kills them.

So it’s true that these films let you "exploit” a caricature, but the flip side is that anyone who can turn that caricature on and off gets to exploit you. And that seems to be Jackie Brown’s realist take: not that racism is the Original Sin for which Thou Must Atone—because everyone sees race and is selfish besides—but rather that it makes you a sucker. And the flip side: by capitalism or by meme magic, the world will always conspire to show you what you want to see. Choose wisely.

If Jackie Brown accepts that racism is inevitable, Inglourious Basterds sets out to prove that it’s also kind of fun.

It’s telling that Inglourious Basterds posters are push-pinned on the walls of fraternity houses right next to Scarface and The Wolf of Wall Street. Three movies, three sets of protagonists who happen to be amoral, masculine, and white. Sounds like a diss, but who are creatine-chugging white boys supposed to look up to? Chris Pratt? You can just tell that guy was grown in a test tube. There’s a reason Tarantino movies are popular and there’s a reason I’m talking about them instead of Buñuel or Tarkovsky and it has something to do with “making intensive use of a major language” and the twenty-somethings desperate to identify with a character named “Bear Jew.” And the above scene is indeed, “sick af.” Goes off without a hitch except when the Nazi says that he got his medals for bravery, and then there’s a split-second of—what, annoyance? Like, stick to the script, asshole. You’re sure as hell gonna get it now.

But I’m sure you’re aware that’s the joke, that once you got Ennio Morricone in the background you can justify anything. The Basterds “ain’t in the prisoner taking business”; they scalp the dead and maim the witnesses they leave alive. There’s no panorama of concentration camp horrors, no humanizing backstory, no evidence of any softness save boyish joy in the art of cruelty. Halfway through the film a young man celebrating the birth of his son is shot dead after surrendering in a Mexican standoff; the Basterds shrug and move on. At the climax of the film, a movie theatre full of Germans is exploded, shot, and burned to death. The modern viewer can’t help but cheer.

The opening chapter, Colonel Hans Landa vs. the outgroup under the floorboards, sways your sympathies in the opposite direction. No, it doesn’t make you hate the French or the Jews. But the tension—the silence and the ticking and the mounting requests and insinuations—is so unbearable that you can’t help but wish for someone to pull the Band-Aid. And the camera can’t do that. Only characters can. Only the character driving the action, and Landa drives the action in his every appearance. Something has to happen—and like the man onscreen, you cave.

Hans Landa alone seems to understand that he’s in a movie, which is perhaps why he’s so polite, so witty, so manically overacted. Perhaps this is how he sees through the Allies’ tricks and disguises: he assumes everyone else is an actor as well. And perhaps this is the apologia for his crimes: he’s just playing a role. The Basterds loathe the Nazis, but Landa bears no animosity towards the Jews, can empathize with them quite easily—it’s just, he likes to play detective and the Nazis were hiring. Is that really worse? Didn’t both the Walrus and the Carpenter eat as many as they could get?

And so, near the end of the film, when Landa cuts a deal to exchange his Hugo Boss for Levi Strauss, he asks of his prisoners the one question that would matter to a character in a period piece: “What shall the history books read?”

Landa’s argument, of course, is a load of shit.

In Inglourious Basterds, every disguise fails. The British film critic-turned-agent is unable to play the Nazi he’s seen on-screen. The German actress is revealed to be an Allied spy. The vengeful Shosanna is revealed as a sweet Jewish girl; the baby-faced Nazi lusting after her is shown to be a monster. The propaganda film burns. Only Lieutenant Aldo Raine and one Basterd make it out alive, and that’s because they’re American, i.e. monolingual.

Perception is a slave to narrative, but narrative has zip zero zilch nada to do with reality. The author is dead. Was Triumph of the Will a “good movie,” technically proficient and even emotionally moving? Absolutely. Could the director’s intentions have been “good,” apolitical, an attempt at beauty but nothing more? Unlikely in this case, but possible. But was Triumph of the Will “good”?

This is the obvious yet unswallowable truth: sometimes good people do bad things. “Nazi ain't got no humanity”? How many films have Nazis with wives, mistresses, children, pub games, medals for bravery? And yet Lieutenant Raine’s opening polemic is correct: the foot soldiers of the Third Reich worked for a Jew-hating, mass-murdering maniac: they needed to be destroyed. Reality isn’t Disney, where internal beauty works its way external. Reality isn’t even so kind as to match intentions with consequences. The American (Union) soldiers fighting against the Nazis (Confederacy) may have been motivated by every bit as much hatred and bloodlust, and yet they were necessary, they were the good guys. FYI—that’s irony.

“So you’re saying we should punch the alt-right?” Are you an idiot? The Nazis weren’t bad because they were Nazis, they were bad because of the things they did. If you actually think that punching a teenage Kekistani is going to bring down the New World Order, go ahead, but stop pushing the pillow of identity over the mouth of reality.

The goal of the System, the sum of vectors going both left and right, is to keep people arguing about abstractions of violence so they won’t deign to consider the ugliness of pragmatism. The radical left will asseverate that violence is justified, refusing to question whether their particular brand of protest is effective; the alt-right will keep rallying against cropped image lunatics, the finest examples of white genocide the media has to offer, never seriously considering that sometimes people lie on the internet; and “““centrists””” will deduce that since violence is never okay, since everyone is so irrational, nothing can be done. But that’s still a perspective: it’s the perspective of the camera.

Fuck that. This essay is a condemnation of anyone who thinks that the hypocrisy of the outgroup disproves their complaint, of anyone who thinks that good intentions are enough to absolve you from sin:

You don’t get to forget what you are.

[quess-writes]

//Holy crap Enma’s one turned out longer than I expected//

Undercut for length

Tsuna

Tsuna is insecure as he is so when rumours arose that you were, well, essentially cheating on him, he panicked. Hard. You were so handsome and had both males and female admirers . He wanted to talk to you about it but never gathered the courage to. Will you confirm it? He doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle that. Will you deny it? He’d take your word for it but there would always be a lingering green monster whispering in his ear. So against his better judgement Reborn he started to follow you.

First of all, he’s a horrible spy and tapping into his HDWM will light a giant fucking fireball on his head so that plan was a no-go (he has the subtly of a kid on crack). Actually, he stumbled upon you by complete accident. He lost you somewhere in the market area and decided to abort mission for that day - what was he going to do? Stand around like a lost puppy? But as he was heading back, his intuition was nagging at him to go the other way. So naturally he followed.

Through dense forestry and unpaved roads, Tsuna stumbled stumbled an abandoned warehouse of some sorts. Dead trees, debris, broken crates littered the area.

One look and he left - wait? Feet? What are you doing? Turn back around! Why are you going closer to the LITERAL FUNHOUSE OF SERIAL KILLERS???

Upon entering Tsuna will scream. He’s seen some shit from Reborn’s training and the mafia but oh lord, that’s so much blood. And in the middle of it all is a limp man suspended in the air by the hands of some man covered in blood. His body was taunt, fangs sharp with broken sunglasses hooked onto the curve of his shirt as piercing red eyes bore straight into his victim. 

Recognizing the scream, you quickly turned your head, dropping the limp body; like a deer in headlights, you froze. “T-Tsuna! It’s not it looks like…?” Great excuse brain.

“What are you…?” Of course he recognized you. You could see Tsuna’s hyper intuition working itself trying to rationalize the situation. “There’s blood on your f-face.“

You stuttered, your mind going into overdrive trying to think of some bullshit way out. Can you use the prank excuse again? No you already used that too many times. Maybe the whole dream thing? Like that’ll work. Shit.

Meanwhile, Tsuna was equally uncomfortable abut the situation as you were. Does this explain your tendency to stay in the shade? He just thought you get hot easily underneath all that clothes. Your preference for late night dates? He’s never dated before so he followed your lead. Wearing sunglasses indoors and circle lens all the time? He just thought you were manly and cool the bodyguards you see in anime. Your inhumane strength? The mafia warped his brain on what was considered and accepted as “normal” - he forgot that normal everyday citizens couldn’t just jump twenty feet in the air. No wonder you ate so little, skipped physical ed. all together and still looked like a fucking model.

“Tsuna…?“ you say, unsure.

He snaps out of his thoughts, straightening up. “Y-Yes?“

You wipe your mouth and throat trying to appear non-threatening as possible - though it made it worse as your clothes were smeared with blood. “I’m not going to hurt anyone.“ His eyes gravitates over the body discarded next to you. “He’s not dead, I swear! A-And I swear I didn’t bring someone from their homes or something!” You could feel your cold, undead body getting colder. “He was out in one of those red light districts drunk off his ass harassing some girls so I stepped in and got him here and I did something that was necessary for me I didn’t beat him up or anything he was just so drunk that when he tried to hit me I dodged and the momentum flew him straight into those crates outside and I brought his unconscious body inside-“

You rambled on, Tsuna’s nerves calming down as he saw the unconscious man’s chest moving and your regular self back in you. Of course you wouldn’t kill someone! Even covered in blood you were still the same cute and slightly awkward mess he fell in love with.

But that still didn’t explain the blood.

“-and well… Oh… that…“ He said that out loud, didn’t he? “I’m. Err…“

Tsuna could hear his heart pounding but his intuition told him to trust you - or at least hear you out. “Please tell me the truth. I know you. You wouldn’t do something like this out of pleasure or sport. So please, tell me the truth.“

You closed your eyes. Could you trust him? No, you could. This was Tsuna, the most kindest humans you’ve ever met. He wasn’t like the others. Like them. “…please promise me you won’t run or attack me or scream or try to kill me. At least not without hearing me out.”

His eyes widened bigger than saucers. Just what were you hiding to say those things? Just what did you go through to say those things? “I promise.“

You took one more breath before confessing, “I’m a vampire.”

Byakuran

When Byakuran was faced with problems, he would consult his parallel selves. But you were the one person he couldn’t extract any information from for various reasons. It gave him a bit of anxiety that the relationship may not work but you proved him wrong on several occasions. That is until the rumours started. Byakuran, surrounded by weird people and being one himself, didn’t notice all your suspicious actions. Well, he did notice but he didn’t particularly care. You weren’t betraying him or attracting unwanted attention so he let you do your thing. It honestly shouldn’t have bothered him, rumours were mostly consisted of false pretenses after all, but what irked him was you. You denied the rummours but gave him some bullshit excuse to as why you left in the middle of the night with a pair of clothes and some needles.

(When Byakuran pointed that out, you could only reply with, “No, I’m not a drug addict calm down. It’s just for a friend’s experiment I’m helping with. We’re testing on honeypot ants and how food colouring changes the honey in their abdomen.”)

So naturally, he followed you out of curiosity. Though his previous selves might have been prone to jealousy, his present self rarely felt envious. He had no reason to be because once you were in a relationship with him, like it or not, you were his. So any other men, or dare he say women, who tried to seduce you were like trying to fight a toddler - not even worth it and so easily... discouraged given the right circumstances.

During another one of your “science experiments” he had followed you to an abandoned house in the middle of scenic nowhere. He was instantly intrigued. There was no way you would try to fuck an unconscious person in a dinky little shack when there were hundreds of love hotels located around you - no matter how paranoid someone was. So either you were a hitman or an unregistered scientist. Either way, he wanted to know what you were doing.

Okay, that wasn’t what he expected.

What he expected was you being from another famiglia or a freelance hitman disposing of a body or something. Not laying them down, checking their vitals, then drawing some blood, testing for negatives, then drinking it. You didn’t even for for their jugular, you just extracted their blood, placed it in a glass, then tended to the bleeding man before sitting down on a nearby couch and drinking it while scrolling through your phone. Well, no one can’t say you weren’t classy.

Byakuran left without another word after confirming all he needed to. “A vampire, perhaps a dhampir, hmmm?” Byakuran hummed happily, “I heard the wendigo were also blood suckers and even in some myths shape-shifters. Considering his human appearance vampire has the highest possibility.” He chuckled, calling Kikyo to cancel all his appointments for the week. “Well, I guess some punishments are in order for that naughty lover of mine.”

It was one thing to hide something, but to hide it from him? Good luck, friend.

Enma

Enma wasn’t exactly the picture-perfect boyfriend or friend in general so when he heard of your “nightly escapades” his reaction shifted back and forth from defeated acceptance to burning white fury (10% himself, 30% you, 60% this “mystery man/woman”). Though his unstable emotions were nothing compared to the absolute rage his family felt.

He didn’t even want to confront you about it - maybe if he lived in ignorance, it’ll all just go away? You were still nice to him at school and everything so maybe the rumours were baseless and from the mill. But it was late one night where he was off feeding one of the stray cats under the bridge he spotted you crossing it… with your arms over some busty woman. Laughing. Joking. Smiling.

His heart shattered into million pieces.

He felt as if every one of his heart strings snapped, and someone set his blood ablaze. His throat was dry, his eyes glossy, and it wasn’t until the warmth of the kitten he was feeding rubbing against him that he snapped out of it. He laughed humourlessly, stroking its chin mechanically. Of course. He should’ve excepted it. You were strong, smart, funny, handsome; comparing him to you was unfair. He left the scene knowing his rage taking over wouldn’t solve anything. It’s wouldn’t take the pain away. It wouldn’t.

Because he still loved you.

The moment he stepped into the house, his family (especially Adelheid) noticed his depressed mood. They tried to cheer him up without bring the situation up knowing it had something to do it you. Enma, ever the introvert, was rarely depressed (shy and anxious maybe but depressed? Never.) so the only person who could’ve made him like this was you. Days passed and the Shimon refused nay and all contact between you and Enma. 

You were confused. Why was the Shimon acting like this? Why was Enma avoiding you? Did you do something wrong? Was something going on? With no answers and no one else to turn to, your turned towards the night. You didn’t want to, but at times like this, it felt just like that incident.

(You needed a distraction and what better way for a filthy monster like yourself to do what you do best?)

It was about a week later when Enma saw you again. He was under the bridge feeding the local strays when he heard you talking to someone. Peeking out through the shadow of the bridge, he saw you carrying an unconscious man into a forest? Honestly he could care less what you were doing but he needed confirmation. He had to see you in the act with his own two eyes so he could extinguish any love he still had left for you. So he did.

What he expected was some kinky outdoor voyeur shit. The last thing he would ever think in his mind was you walking into an abandoned building, setting the man down over a small make-shift bed made of wooden boxes and tarps, leaning over his sleeping body, and biting his neck.

Enma just stared in morbid awe and fear as your sharp fangs dug into his flesh, your tongue lapping up the blood like sweet honey. You weren’t exactly the epitome of perfection in this scene but you still managed to look beautiful even with that blood painting your face and staining your shirt. He couldn’t look away. On one hand, he was relieved you weren’t cheating on him so the dread in his heart was gone. But on the other hand, seeing you like this? A completely new dread filled his heart.

You were in the middle of a feeding frenzy. You could smell the sweet nectar of succulent humans every step you took and your primitive desires tempted you to act upon those urges. But you didn’t - at least not in the way you attacked every human you saw. You hunted and targeted drunk humans, people who were alone intoxicated. It wasn’t the most ethical thing to do but for someone like  yourself, what could you do? You practically lived in the red light district these days. Enma was your boyfriend and though Tsuna and the others were great, you couldn’t feel the same connection as you did with Enma. But that didn’t matter now, did it? It all started this way. First they would distance themselves from you then they would never return. He was just like them. The same thing happened now as it did last time.

The guilt of feeding masked the pain of loneliness well.

Just stopped right before the man’s blood smelled thin, the pain hitting you harder as the taste of blood left your mouth. Thankfully you smelled another human nearby. This one smelled good, familiar, reminiscent. You wondered how long this one would last.

Enma saw your head detaching from the man’s neck, the man still breathing. He stared at you, the light of the moon lining your form in a pale ethereal glow. Your eyes were crimson - like fresh blood dripping into a rose. Enma would be lying if he didn’t find you incredibly attractive despite the blood (to be fair he’s seen much worse for less).

You just stood there, your desperate tongue savouring every last drop like a parched man deprived of his basic needs given a glass of water. Then you just stopped, twitching. And before Enma could even question you odd behaviour, his vision blurred and his body met the ground.

Enma groaned, opening his eyes to see your panting face. Your eyes were glazed, hands covering his mouth, fangs ready for the incision. He tried to push you off, but your other hand kept his arms in check. Kicking you off was no good as your blood-fueled body was vastly stronger than his noodle limbs. In one last desperate attempt, he called out your name.

It worked.

“E-Enma…?“ you said in disbelief. “What are you-?“ No… Where you about to hurt your own boyfriend!? No. No. No! You sprung away from him like he was scalding water. You hugged yourself, unsure if the action was to protect yourself or protecting him. You knew you were a monster but this? This was too much. All you wanted was to forget, not hurt!

Enma saw your claws dig into your skin, hyperventilating. In the midst of your meltdown, he walked over to you slowly, giving you enough space so you wouldn’t feel threatened but close enough to thwart your escape. He called out your name several times, using the softest voice he could muster, as if he was talking to one of his kittens. "Don’t hurt yourself, I know it was an accident. I’m not hurt. Don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you and I won’t run. Can I come closer? Please? I’m walking over there slowly, okay? I promise I won’t do anything you don’t like. And you can tell me to stop if you feel uncomfortable.” He came closer, and for some reason you listened. “See? I’m here now. Not a single scratch on me - well, besides from the usual anyways - but nothing from you. I’m going to get a little closer, okay? Are you cold? Do you want my jacket? It’s not much but it’s better than nothing. No, actually it’s great because you stitched it up for me remember? It has your gentle handiwork on it.”

Before you knew what happened, Enma’s arms were around you, his warmth encompassing your cold, undead body, and thought your mind told you to leave - to run - your body melted into his embrace.