#it’s not the first time dracula has moved him while he slept

[remembersunflowers]

i am sure that if Jonathan had access to a mirror;

he would see a fresh wound upon his neck- red, irritated, with a fleck of dried blood on his collar

he would see a version of himself that has been denied true restful sleep, experienced the horrors, and unimaginable stress

he would see the dimming hope in his eyes, a candle lit for a love he may never see again that’s growing darker …

Oh, what a foul bauble of vanity those mirrors are, what wickedness they reveal in their silver depths

[alpaca-clouds]

Some historical context for Olrox

Okay, let me prephase this with one important message: Castlevania Nocturne made me really happy by making the plot all about colonialism, as colonialism and its fallout and how it influences us to this day is a topic that I am very passionate about. We do not talk enough about it. The US does not talk enough about it because it could make white people feel uncomfortable. And here in Germany we do not talk about it, because we act as if this had nothing to do with us at all.

But the show talks about it and I love it.

And I honestly also gotta say that I love that the BI_PoC character have a concrete cultural heritage. Olrox is Aztec, Annette is Yoruba, and Drolta is Egyptian. Other shows: Please take notes!

But let's talk Olrox, because he is so fucking interesting and amazing!

We know about him that he is Aztec and also that he is 250 years old. Or roughly that old by the time he kills Julia. Which would put either his birth or his turning somewhere around 1530.

Now, the fall of the Aztec Empire has a very exact date: August 13th, 1521. But you should keep in mind that this does not mean that on that day the Aztec's are extinct. To this day there is still 1,5 million people speaking Nahuatl, the language of the Aztecs, and preserving some of the Aztec cultural traditions. It was just that on that day the empire construct fell to Cortez and the Spaniad conquistadors and a lot of Aztecs went into exile to flee the genocide that Cortez was bringing upon them.

The question of course is: Was Olrox still human at this time or was he already a vampire? From his dialogue it is clear that he was at least alive and grown enough to remember the fall of the empire and the distruction Cortez and his men brought upon them. But you can bet it was very traumatic.

I also am assuming he was turned by a white man. Because so far my assumption is that vampirism is an old world thing that got brought to the new world through colonialism. (Mostly because in Dracula's court we do not see any new world vampires.)

Now, the other interesting thing is what he says about his dead lover. The one Julia killed. So, first the "town in Massachusetts" he speaks about is clearly Stockbridge. Which was the town in which many Mohicans have settled during the colonial times, as well as other people from the Iroquois Nations. Now, it should be noted that the Mohicans were not part of the Iroquois alliance and in fact went to war with the Iroquois, but by the time colonialism really geared up there was some cooperation between the Mohicans and Iroquois.

Due to this they were in an alliance with the Oneida (who were part of the Iroquois) by the time of the Revolutionary war. Now, the Revolutionary War created a lot of conflict between the Iroquois nations, because they did not agree which side they should fight on. Of course both sides promised that they could keep their land, but the Mohawk, Onondaga, Cayuga, and Seneca did not trust the colonists and hence sided with the British, while the Oneida and Tuscarora (and through them also the Mohicans) sided with the Colonists.

And the dead lover clearly was among those siding with the colonists. Now, a quick refresher for the non-Americans (and the Americans who slept to history class, which is understandable). The Revolutionary War lasted from April 19, 1775 to September 3, 1783 (which, yes, also means that Julia and Richter probably were in the US during the war the entire time and the "evil" Julia was fighting probably was linked to it). And of course we all know how it ended for the Indigenous people: The colonists won, countless Indigenous folks died on both sides, only to get booted of their land soon after. The Oneida und Mohicans were made to move westwards not soon after the war ended. So, yes, Olrox would have seen that happen.

Now, an interesting thing in his dialogue was when Erzebet said: "We will create a new world." To which he replies: "I have heard that one before." And she says: "This time we are going to make it to last."

And the big question is to what this is refering. Is it refering to the colonialization or is it refering to the revolutionary war? Or something entirely different. In both cases it would be possible. And yes, the American Revolution definitely were claiming to create a new world. But was it that what he refered to or something else?

Well, never the less: Interesting character. Really good writing.

[serial-serializednovelreader]

Nova’s Notes - Dracula Daily - June 30th

✨Happy (belated) Shovel Day!!!✨

“These may be the last words I ever write in this diary. I slept till just before the dawn, and when I woke threw myself on my knees, for I determined that if Death came he should find me ready.”

Jonathan is pulling no punches by starting off reminding us that this may be his last day on earth. It’s telling that he woke up just before dawn came up (though I wonder how he slept at all….hmm….). I also love that while he ended his last entry on his knees in despair, he starts this entry on his knees — determined. I wonder if he was going to try to fight Dracula — futile though that may have been, but first wanted to adopt a less aggressive pose to lull him into a false sense of security. Or, perhaps, he actually was just ready for this to be over.

Once morning comes and he realizes he’s safe, he immediately runs to the great door. After all, it was unlocked yesterday, right? Alas!

“With hands that trembled with eagerness, I unhooked the chains and drew back the massive bolts.”

“But the door would not move. Despair seized me. I pulled, and pulled, at the door, and shook it till, massive as it was, it rattled in its casement. I could see the bolt shot. It had been locked after I left the Count.”

It’s not often that we see Jonathan describe himself in detail when he’s in a heightened emotional state. Before, when he found out he was imprisoned, he described his frantic state going door to door. But this time, we see the eagerness of trembling fingers turning to frantic despair. We see him shaking the door until it rattles. And it hurts more than before. Because this was truly the only easy way out. Now what is he to do?

“Then a wild desire took me to obtain that key at any risk, and I determined then and there to scale the wall again and gain the Count's room. He might kill me, but death now seemed the happier choice of evils.”

It’s Lizard Fashion time once again. And he doesn’t even care if he dies facing the Count! He’s willing to confront him head on because at least it’ll be a faster death and he’ll see it coming. With the sisters, he’ll have to wait until nightfall and who knows how long they’ll draw it out? No, this way is better to him, this way he has a choice. And it’s his choice, mind you, not the Count’s. Just another play on that “of your own free will thing”…

He makes his way as before, not really pausing to check his surroundings because:

“I knew now well enough where to find the monster I sought.”

I love this line and I feel it’s worth putting in here because it sounds so raw, so…viscerally angry. Yes, he’s tired of Dracula and willing to die at his hands, but he’s not going down without a fight. And he won’t go down without calling him a monster either.

“There lay the Count, but looking as if his youth had been half renewed, for the white hair and moustache were changed to dark iron-grey; the cheeks were fuller, and the white skin seemed ruby-red underneath; the mouth was redder than ever, for on the lips were gouts of fresh blood, which trickled from the corners of the mouth and ran over the chin and neck. Even the deep, burning eyes seemed set amongst swollen flesh, for the lids and pouches underneath were bloated. It seemed as if the whole awful creature were simply gorged with blood. He lay like a filthy leech, exhausted with his repletion.”

So this is what Dracula looks like freshly fed. He must’ve fed a lot too to look this bloated and youthful from one drink. It is very likely he doesn’t have to feed as often as the women — maybe once every two months or so (which would make sense given his time with Jonathan and we haven’t seen him feed at all in that time). It’s notable too that Jonathan feels no symptoms of fatigue or sickness from this feeding — symptoms we will get to with another character. Perhaps it’s because he’s strong and healthy, or maybe he’s ignoring any noticeable symptoms because he’s running high on adrenaline (honestly the more likely option).

As he searches for the key and actually has to feel Dracula up (a horrible experience for Jonathan, I imagine), he looks at the creature to find:

“There was a mocking smile on the bloated face which seemed to drive me mad. This was the being I was helping to transfer to London, where, perhaps, for centuries to come he might, amongst its teeming millions, satiate his lust for blood, and create a new and ever-widening circle of semi-demons to batten on the helpless. The very thought drove me mad.”

Jonathan, ever the unselfish man, is thinking of the bigger picture. He figures this box with Dracula must be going to England and then to the property Jonathan found for him so long ago when this was just a job for him: Carfax. Once again, Dracula’s talk of “your own free will” comes into play here. Unwittingly, Jonathan has given Dracula everything he needs to set up Vampire City in England of his own free will. And while he doesn’t directly say it — I don’t think he can because writing it down would make it real — Mina is in England too. They will not be near each other: Carfax is in Purfleet and Mina is in Exeter (approx. 200 miles away, so that would be about 5 hours by train), but I imagine for Jonathan, this is still too close for comfort. And it’s very likely, as Jonathan figures, that Dracula will use his army of “semi-demons” to not only drink more blood, but expand further and prey on more people. It won’t stop in just one place. And even if Mina were far away and safe from this, it still doesn’t change the fact that this creature will prey on the helpless for longer than Jonathan would ever feasibly live. I’ve noticed that Jonathan never really repeats himself in any one entry, but he’s so angry here that he starts and ends this passage with remarking how Dracula’s facial expression and these previous thoughts are driving him “mad”. He’s being driven past the point of all reason.

“A terrible desire came upon me to rid the world of such a monster. There was no lethal weapon at hand, but I seized a shovel which the workmen had been using to fill the cases, and lifting it high, struck, with the edge downward, at the hateful face. But as I did so the head turned, and the eyes fell full upon me, with all their blaze of basilisk horror. The sight seemed to paralyse me, and the shovel turned in my hand and glanced from the face, merely making a deep gash above the forehead.”

Shovel time!!!!!! It’s a true testament to Jonathan’s strength that even the paralyzing power of Dracula’s stare isn’t enough to stop him completely. Yes, he can’t land a killing blow, but I wonder if anyone who has dared try something like this (I imagine the number is very few) has even managed to land a gash as he does? Judging by the lack of scars on Dracula’s face, I doubt it. But now he has one — a “deep gash” on the forehead. It’s sad that Jonathan calls it “mere” when in reality this a great feat! Though I understand when you go from trying to permanently end someone’s evil reign, only making a glancing hit on their forehead will make it seem that way in comparison. :/

The shovel falls out of his hand onto the box and as he’s picking it up, the “flange” of the shovel (aka, the wide part where you put your foot, according to this blog), catches the lid and it falls. Coincidence? Somehow, I doubt it. That’s a weird happenstance in my opinion; it’s hard for me to imagine the shovel just “happening” to catch the lid. Another trick of Dracula’s? Perhaps. The last he sees of Dracula is a malice-filled grin on a bloated face.

That’s when Jonathan hears the Szgany and the Slovaks coming once more. He runs up to the empty room, determined to try to get down to the great hall where they must be entering from as soon as possible. However, they’re not entering from the door he thought — indeed, they seem to be going down to the passage he was just in…

“I turned to run down again towards the vault, where I might find the new entrance; but at the moment there seemed to come a violent puff of wind, and the door to the winding stair blew to with a shock that set the dust from the lintels flying. When I ran to push it open, I found that it was hopelessly fast. I was again a prisoner, and the net of doom was closing round me more closely.”

Yet again, Jonathan’s hopes are dashed. I wonder if Dracula knew to close the door when Jonathan left the vault, or just shut all the doors when the Szgany and Slovaks got there. Either way, it’s chilling that yet another way — another hope — has been snuffed out. Jonathan isn’t talking of despair anymore, but of doom.

Then Jonathan describes hearing the people work on the great boxes and hearing them leave, going off into the distance. He even notes hearing Dracula’s box be nailed down!! It must be agonizing for him to hear not only people freely coming and going from the castle (which he doesn’t blame them for, of course), but to also hear your captor making his way out of the castle too! Not to mention the knowledge of what will happen once said captor is in England…

I suppose Jonathan could have tried to Lizard Fashion his way back to his room and search for that secret entrance they used to get to the vaults. But who’s to say Dracula didn’t find a way to lock his room as well in that time? He could’ve tried to shout for help, but we saw what happened the last time he did that. Plus, I think Jonathan is so mentally and emotionally exhausted at this point that all he can do is rest for a second and probably write what he’s hearing in the journal.

“I am alone in the castle with those awful women. Faugh! Mina is a woman, and there is nought in common. They are devils of the Pit!”

Jonathan, that is such a beautiful sentiment. Love that he can’t bring up the word “woman” without thinking of his lovely Mina! And yeah, she doesn’t have anything in common with those women — he’s right. I’m sure nothing will change about that in the coming months…*insert Hbomberguy’s “foreshadowing is a literary device in which —“ bit* (I’m sorry, I had to)

He states his intentions to go out in Lizard Fashion one more time, but further, taking the gold from the Count’s room. He’s not going to remain here any longer, waiting for the women to get him. (And I do wonder now if he had been turned into a vampire: would he have had to take care of the women in Dracula’s absence, or are they just allowed to free roam now? Questions to consider…I partially remember the answer, but I won’t spoil)

If he does get out the first thing he’s doing is taking a train (I’m sure he’s not thinking of Mina when he writes that, but I kind of hope he is lol) and getting away from here — “where the devil and his children still walk with earthly feet!” Hardcore line and very true.

“At least God's mercy is better than that of these monsters, and the precipice is steep and high. At its foot a man may sleep—as a man. Good-bye, all! Mina!”

Telling that he brings God up in the next line to contrast what he believes to be the devil’s influence on the land. It’s all he can cling to at this point. Even dying on a cliff is a more peaceful “sleep” than dying (or being turned) by those women. And of course, he will die as himself, not as a creature, though he imitates one with the Lizard Fashion. I wonder too if it would almost be better in his eyes to die on the cliffs; because, if he succeeds, he’s also successfully imitated the monster. But if he dies, well, it’s almost more proof he’s a man. I realize it’s a bit strange to compare these things when obviously he wants to make it back alive, but I do wonder if he struggles at all internally with how well he’s done with imitating the Count’s Lizard Fashion and perhaps he worries — just a tiny bit — if he’s becoming a little less human every time he does it? Irrational as that may seem, I can understand why he would have that struggle if he is indeed having it.

For the second day in a row, he ends the entry by referencing those closest to him and the last word in his diary — which he believes might forever be his last — is Mina. I wonder if he scrawled this in emotion, or wrote it very delicately, hoping for it to be forever preserved. Either way, I am not ok about this.

Good luck on your lizard fashion journey Jonathan, we love you 😭😭😭💔 thanks for gashing up the Count’s forehead before he left!

[ruiniel]

ah hi! I love your writing so much so I’m so excited requests are open. Could I request a short fic (if possible) of fem!reader x alucard of them both pining for each other for a long time & maybe one day they just snap b/c it’s too much & make out? (Or… more than that if u want.)

A classic! This is the first ask since I opened requests and here’s a scenario that fell down the hill. It then snowballed turning into a fic that is excruciatingly in Alternate Universe territory *guilty laughter* hope you like some of this, anon.

To be free

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Pairing: Alucard x fem!reader

Rating: T

Count: 1.6k

Tags & Warnings: Mutual pining, Angst, It just happened, Adrian has 0 idea what to do with this, Here's some unsavory Alucard traits, He means well but ugh, Context of battle, Mention of death, alternate universe, dark fantasy AU, unresolved sexual tension, unresolved emotional tension, Second Person POV, Alucard POV, more tags coming

Summary:

The murder of Lisa never happened. Instead, sometime in the future there is strife in the vampire world with an alliance of rebelling war chiefs over territory and Dracula is forced to respond. Reader character is an apprentice learning the doctor trade under Lisa, and a friend of her son.

Will post part II soon but wanted to share this for now

All characters depicted are 18+

I.

Wallachia, 1485

“Faster!” comes the sudden strike, the wooden staff colliding with your shoulder.

“That hurt!” you hiss, ducking your head as a flash of gold gains on you.

“Well for god’s sake, move your feet!” Adrian snaps, falling upon you with frightful ease.

You retreat, movements slower, your legs fumbling. “You... you’re awful...” you pant, “This is too much, even for an average recruit!” you barely parry before being flung aside by another vicious strike.

You gasp as he’s upon you again, leaving you struggling to regain your balance. “I do not train you to be average,” Adrian throws in the tone he only ever uses with the other soldiers. “I train you to stay alive,” he kicks your legs from under you before you can preempt him.

You swear, cry out and grab at his shoulder; a surprised son of Dracula crumbles together with you in a heap to the ground.

Your faces come to be so close you can see the hint of swirling lights in his eyes. “That was unfair,” you whisper, breathless.

“Who ever said war is fair? Do you think the enemy will care for your codes of honor?” Adrian asks, unaffected by the effort—he’s not even flushed—his forearms propped on either side of your head. “Now pay attention and stop wasting my time, else you find someone else to teach you.”

He’s mainly like this, nowadays. Morose, at times even scowling, having little to no patience. His words scald often, and this change came and stayed with him for a while now. When Adrian tries to rise, however, your thighs turn into a vice around him; a sudden shift of unexpected strength, and then you’re sitting atop him, pressing him into the earth.

You grin, holding him down, finding some familiarity in it. You’d slept beneath cold skies back to back, huddled against each other for warmth before; you knew him in a physical way, one demanded of practicality. When you lean closer to his face, you see ice and even distaste, and stupid words gurgle in your throat. “I do pay attention, more than you think,” you say with a hint of satisfaction, which soon fades at the look he’s giving you.

“Rise to your feet, please.”

“I listen. I hear your words, harsh when once they’d been kind. I feel this wall you’re raising higher and I don’t understand why. I’m not your enemy. I’m...” your voice fails when his eyes narrow. “I’m your friend. Come back.” You watch his face, the shape of the mouth you know, down to every detail.

“I am right here, to my dismay. Now rise, don’t make me ask again.” But he does not do so himself, possibly giving you the choice of dignity.

“Tell me why you do it. Why you’re so dismissive, why you seem to make yourself scarce whenever we’re in the same room for long.” Why he acts like this task is something he loathes, even though he was the one who offered to include you in his daily routine when you’d made your wish to train known. You sound wanton in your demand now, you know, but he near always pushes you to the end of your tether lately. Today had been another rushed, supremely uncomfortable sword fighting lesson besides. Why are you like this? The words bite into your tongue, but you dare not ask them, afraid of what they might bring; you don’t want to fight him, not now.

Before, when Adrian welcomed you to stay for the friendship you had, he was open in manner and kind; but lately there is no reprieve, and you sense the tension in him as though it were a living thing. It turns him into a merciless trainer and hard to please—it also makes him ten times more infuriating to be around.

Adrian gazes up at you, inert, but the tension in you seems to bleed into his own body. “I do it for you,” he answers late, his voice gentler like a bleak reminder of before. “I do all of it for you.”

“I should be grateful, then?” you mutter into his shuttering stare. “For this?”

A softness to his eyes, a clench to his jaw; you feel compelled to do something you have not the courage to.

“Move.”

Defeated, you nod and rise, quietly regaining yourself as Adrian comes to his feet. You retrieve your staff, back turned to him. “I think I’ve had enough for today.”

You start when your weapon is roughly pried from your hand. “As you wish,” Adrian says. The hardness in his voice makes you flinch, like talons leaving raw and festering places in their wake.

As you turn, he’s already leaving the practice yard with rushed steps. You fall limply against a tree trunk, covering your face with your filthy gloved hands, wanting more than anything to be free of this.

Having reached the armory, you wipe your sweaty brow with your hand, then attempt fluid movement. The leather practice armor you’re using until a better suited one is ready hinders your motions. You blow a stray wisp of hair out of your face, yet panting from exertion. It has to be done; it has to be done. 

You attempt to undo the fastenings and utterly fail, resenting having to train in full battle gear, but one tireless tutor insists this is the way. With a huff and a pull, your attempts cease. 

A heavy hand is on your shoulder; heavier than it used to be. It urges you to turn.

“You slouch,” come the soft words. Deft fingers aid you out of the constraint posed by the armor and you go still, throwing the speaker a brief, scathing look he cannot see, focused as he is on his task. 

“I try,” you say.

“I need more focus, mere blinks of moments matter here,” Adrian says without looking at you.

Before you reply, he finishes and turns away, arms raised and hands pulling at the tie in his hair.

His aloofness is even more biting than usual; has something happened? You’ll need to speak to him, because you can't help but feel somehow... you can't define it exactly. A heaviness, a weariness over your heart as it beats. You can't but feel he's being unfair.

This familiarity in your concern, though natural now, has taken long to develop. The two of you crossed paths once, had bled to stay alive and became close along the way through a string of unbelievable though unavoidable events. You still laugh at the absurdity of it sometimes: meeting and befriending the son of Vlad Dracula Tepes, meeting Lisa his mother and becoming her aid after Adrian offered for you to stay until you found your bearings. You, finding Dracula with a family of all things.

Having nowhere else to go, you stayed, of course you stayed. This was a household, the semblance of a strong-knit family, or at least—for you—the proximity to one. And if you were being bluntly honest with yourself, you starved for this: a purpose, a goal. It led you to accept the schooling suggestions from Lisa Tepes. It had you deciding to train in arms so you could defend yourself if need be. And you, well… you were apprentice to his mother now, learning her trade, living here, eating and walking and seeing him—though thankfully (or painfully), less and less lately as the days pass.

You stare out the window, to the shadow lengthening across the trees and the horizon, over a scattered front where white smoke billows eerily into the air against the violently bruised sky of evening. Beneath it, two factions will inevitably clash. You shudder, chewing the inside of your cheek. “How stupid. I should learn to save lives, not take them,” you murmur, placing your gloves on a rack in the training hall. 

“Remember, these are vampires. And you may end this, it was your wish afterall,” Adrian looks over his shoulder at you.

“I know.” You turn from him, rummaging in your own things, hiding the flash of pain on your face. “But I have to learn.”

All is prepared, and you overheard the others speaking of it at the recent council. They would start at the following evefall to be stationed along camp lines across the valley. You turn your head left and right, roll your shoulders, grimacing at the stiffness in your upper body.

“Here,” Adrian says, approaching and presenting you with a vial containing a clear liquid.

“What is it?” you reach and take it from his hand. 

Adrian walks away and takes a seat at one of the long tables laden with pieces of armor and weaponry. He rolls the sleeves of his crinkled shirt up to his elbows and reaches for a whetstone, then his sword. His golden flecked stare turns on you, briefly. Cold light creeps through narrow glass windows, finding him. “A salve, did Mother not get to those yet? Use it on your muscles in the evening.”

You swallow. “No, not yet. When are you leaving?” 

He lowers his eyes as a metallic sound scrapes away the silence, and you watch him whet the sword placed horizontally in his lap. “Tomorrow.” Another wail of the stone, like glassy cries of pain.

Of course, you knew; merely wanted to hear him say it. You near as Adrian works, continuing to sharpen and wipe the blade with a cloth in turns. “Are you afraid? Are you well? I know you were reluctant to join this, I—” But it was he who said that in wisdom, we too know fear. It keeps one alive, it keeps one fighting.

“I'm well,” Adrian cuts in. The answer is impassive, his eyes averted from yours, set on the motion of his hand.

His stilted replies leave no room for doubt—the wall is up and you’re more than eager to get out of here. You sling the bag with belongings over one shoulder. “Good eve, Adrian,” you say. “Actually rest, you’ll need it.” And without lingering, you turn, leaving him behind with as much dignity as you should possess.

Part II

[bonniehooper]

COMMUNITY REWATCH, 2x06: "Epidemiology"

-HALLOWEEN EPISODE!!!!

-Why is George Takai doing the voiceover for this episode?

-Well, this Halloween party definitely looks better than season one's.

-I forgot Dean Pelton was dressed Gaga. He looks great.

-Britta as a dinosaur is so cute. I love that they gave Gillian the cutest costumes last season and this season.

-Annie as Little Red Riding Hood is also really cute.

-Okay, Shirley is clearly dressed like Glinda from The Wizard of Oz, but I get the Miss Piggy joke since she is talking like her.

-Rich from Pottery class? I genuinely don't remember him coming back into the show.

-Is Abed and Troy's costume supposed to be Alien related?

-How did the taco meat turn Pierce into a zombie?!?!

-Love the Halloween intro.

-How do you guys not realize that everyone is turning into Zombies?

-I can't believe Troy just put some toilet paper around his neck and wrist and decided he was a "sexy Dracula".

-Rich, Annie, now is not the time to be flirting.

-Dean Pelton please stop being attracted to the disembodied voice on the phone.

-I love how even in zombie mode, Leonard leaves Shirley alone when she threatens him.

-Annie: "There's some kind of infection at the party making people act weird and bite each other. We need to coordinate an evacuation without causing unnecessary panic." *cut to leonard biting someone* Troy: "Holy crap, Leonard's a zombie." Well, there went that idea.

-*dean pelton locks the doors to the library so no one can leave* Jeff: (pulling on the door) "um? UM?"

-*jeff punches a lady dressed as a bee* Troy: "You punched a lady bee!"

-Troy: "Shouldn't we be barricading the room?" Abed: "I don't know. These guys don't seem so-" *looks out the window to see a bunch of hungry zombies* "I will help you."

-*shows rich checking to see if he was bit and he was* God damn it, Rich!!

-Britta was bit, too? And neither of them told because they thought they were special?!?!?!

-God damn it, Chang! Why would you throw the skate?! Now they have Annie, and you let them into the only place that might have been safe to hide from the zombies!

-Side note, the soundtrack for this episode is quite good.

-How did Shirley and Chang correctly guessing what the other's costume was turn into a make out session?

-*three cat jump scares* Jeff: "What is up with that cat?!" Troy: "Is someone throwing it?" Abed: "Let's keep moving." Jeff: "Let's not keep moving because there is an insane cat down here." Troy: "But what about the zombies?" Jeff: "Back burner, Troy. This cat has to be dealt with."

-*jeff getting attacked by zombies, but sees rich in his suit jacket* Jeff: "That's my jacket! My jacket, you're stretching it! You're stretching it!!" Even while being eaten Jeff cares about his fashion.

-Abed: "Go." Troy: "I'm not going without you." Abed: "Troy, make me proud. Be the first black man to make it to the end."

-Not Troy and Abed with the Leia and Han reference!

-I can't believe Troy just punched the Dean.

-Dean Pelton: "Are you crazy? How are you going to survive those zombies?" Troy: "I'm going to be a nerd." Dean Pelton: "Better have a Plan B!"

-Why did Troy spank Pierce?

-Troy: "Okay, okay. I've been bit, y'all. Damn. Congrats. You did what zombies do." The annoyance from Troy is so funny.

-Zombie Jeff standing there messing with his phone, while Troy crawls to the thermostat and calls Jeff "cool" is so good.

-I love the fact that Troy and Abed still do their handshake as zombies.

-Zombie Annie studying is so ridiculous.

-I can't believe that Jeff comes out of his zombie state and immediately starts actually texting.

-Were they about to kill Dean Pelton?

-So, they erased their memories?

-Still wondering why George Takai is doing the voiceover.

-Chang leaving a voicemail so that someone would know he slept with Shirley is so funny.

-Troy: "Why did he call me?" Valid question Troy.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

For Vampire Chris! What if he and Jake went to a museum and came across some of Tooley's paintings? And Chris has a panic attack! We would finally get some Jake comfort. And maybe Chris would reveal more horrible things that Tooley had done to him.

CW: Discussion of death, blood, vampire whumpee, caretaker and whumpee

The sun sets early in the winter, and it's the only reason they can make this work.

Chris is barely awake even so, sipping from a coffee cup Jake filled with the contents of one of his blood packs, hoping he doesn't trip and spill and lead to Jake having some very awkward, panicked explanations to make to anyone nearby.

He'd slept in the truck Jake borrowed from Nat most of the way over here, curled in the passenger seat. He looks for all the world like any high schooler who stayed up too late the night before, dragged out by his family, forced to go learn when all he wants is rest.

Chris is draped in a hooded sweatshirt pulled on over his head, hair mussed from sleeping in the closet in the little nest-bed he made for himself in there. It sticks out like stray from beneath the hood he's pulled up, coppery strands occasionally covering his eyes and making him shove them out of the way with a snort that has no right to be as adorable as it is, considering the monster who makes the sound.

Not a monster, no. Not really.

Or his monster, anyway, the same way his mother is his mother. Jake is starting to understand the little vampire - more than three times his own age - has chosen him for family now.

The sweater he wears is kind of a joke, actually. Jake bought it weeks ago from a website that puts the covers of books on clothes, and it's an old cover image from Dracula.

Jake thought it was funny, anyway. Nat was less amused. Chris only smiled and said something about being happy the hairy palms thing isn't true.

The air is chilly, and Jake shivers a little as they head in from the parking lot across a small sidewalk next to a park and toward the museum itself, but of course Chris doesn't even notice. He seems to be enjoying it, the way it blows around his hair as they make their way slowly up the steps and past the row of Grecian-style columns that mark the entrance.

Jake has to visit for one of his classes, an extra-credit something-or-other, and Chris had asked to go along with him.

Jake had been hesitant, but seeing the way the vampire's green eyes sparkle as he moves around in public like any other person, well... he feels like he made the right choice to bring him along now.

"Finish up your drink, you can't take anything in once we pay and get past the lobby," Jake says, and Chris nods, gulping the last of the blood as fast as he can as they push through wide double-doors. Jake tries not to imagine how it must feel, swallowing thick congealing cooled blood. Someone's life, someone's heartbeat, down your throat...

Really, is he that much different? Jake has eaten a dozen cows' worth of beef in his life.

Does Chris see them all as just livestock? He doesn't act like it, but then, there are people who treat pigs or cows like pets and not like food...

His stomach flips a little and he forces himself to look around, up at the chandelier at the high ceiling, the heavy wooden desk they have to walk to off to the side to get their tickets. To stop trying to understand if Chris is a sort of stray they've adopted, or if he's a higher-level predator living with prey.

Once Chris drops the cup into a trash can, Jake throwing a couple wadded-up tissues on top so no one can accidentally see the smear of red around the edge of the lid, they buy their tickets, and wind their way through and past the little velvet ropes that mark off the entrance.

The museum opens before them into a grand hall, with paintings the size of two-story buildings on either side, permanent installations in the museum. Commissioned for its opening, sometime back in the 70's.

Jake picks up a brochure so they know which way to go - LGBTQ+ Art in Pre-War America is the temporary exhibit he's here to see, traveling work that is usually housed in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City.

"Oh, nice, it's on the first floor. Looks like you go through a couple of 'specialty' rooms, just showing off stuff from the in-house collection. Sounds cool, right?"

Chris, looking from side to side at the gigantic paintings that hang on the walls in the opening hall, hums softly, a tuneless constant sound. He doesn't answer Jake's question. He hums often, and Jake barely notices any longer, but there's something edged to it, now. As if just being around the paintings is making him nervous.

"Okay, little man, let's go over here." He touches Chris's arm, lightly, through the thick fabric of his sweater. The vampire looks over at him, smiling with his lips pressed together to hide his teeth from any potential prying eyes.

He follows easily, but he sticks closer to Jake than he normally does, and his eyes are constantly roving. They move through an exhibit of Pre-Colombian pottery first, on their way to the room in the back where the temporary showcase is.

Jake watches Chris's fingers twitch with the urge to touch, to learn by feeling the bumps and ridges in the ancient clay, and how he holds back as best he can. His urge to lift the clear protective plastic boxes right off the pottery so he can get at it is nearly physically painful.

Jake pretends not to see it when Chris's fingers trail along a column, settling for the white-painted rectangle the pottery is balanced on, taking in the rough texture smoothed by the matte paint.

"Did you ever meet anyone like you that was old enough to have made stuff like this?" Jake asks, stopping in front of a water jug in the shape of a man playing a flute with a dog at his feet. The dog wears a carved smile marked with disturbingly human-looking teeth. The paint it must have been covered in is worn by time, leaving the reddish-brown of the clay behind, with the faintest streaks of white still in the crevices.

"No," Chris replies, tilting his head, making direct eye contact with the statue in a way he never quite can do with any real person. Not comfortably, anyway. Jake has seen him force it and shudder afterwards, overwhelmed. When he'd asked about it, Chris had said he never liked looking at anyone's eyes, even before, when he was alive. It's too much, was all he would say. It's always too much. "None, um, none of us live that long."

"Why not?" They're alone in the room. It's the only reason Jake feels safe asking.

Chris's tongue runs over the sharpening bumps of his growing-in fangs, pressing against them, easing the itch and the ache of their return. After a second, he pulls a plastic bat on a cord from inside his sweater and puts the bat into his mouth, chewing on it idly, jaw working. "I, I, I don't know. That's just what what what my, my, my pack told me."

"I thought vampires lived in covens."

"No." Chris doesn't elaborate on this one. He can be weirdly secretive about how he lived before he came to Nat's, before he was pulled out of a basement, a living drug for a wealthy asshole.

Secretive, or just forgetting whatever wasn't essential.

He moves away to another pedestal, a shard broken off of a larger vessel, marked with a deep white and intense black angular design. He hums again, and Jake takes the hint and leaves him alone.

They spend several more minutes looking over the pottery before they head through a second room full of what must just be the favorite pieces of museum employees, as there doesn't seem to be much rhyme or reason, and each little card with the name of the piece and its maker has a paper next to it with a note on why each employee loves this piece in particular. Chris lingers around older things, a woven tapestry from medieval England, landscapes from the 19th century. He stares for a while at a painting called The Country Path by Joseph Poole Addy, a pale watercolor of winter trees with bare branches breaking the line of sky and a woman bundled in a coat carrying a basket down an equally colorless road.

Chris's humming getting louder, and he rocks a little, forward and back, his eyes moving again and again through the lines of the painting.

Jake wonders what it is about this one specifically that catches Chris like that, and when the vampire finally moves on he checks the employee's statement. Joseph Poole Addy, Irish painter in the 19th and 20th centuries, blah blah, something something countryside... Jake frowns, and glances over at Chris, who isn't looking back. He's moved on to something else.

Jake decides to ask him later.

They make it to the exhibit they're here to see, and Jake whistles under his breath as he enters. There are vibrant, saturated paintings lining the walls, a couple of large sculptures on the floor that still are taller than he is, a few smaller ones on pedestals. The work is mostly figurative, although there's some early abstraction there, a hint of the contemporary push to take even figurative work out of simply being an echo of a real life thing.

Chris looks at a sculpture, his head cocked so far to the side it looks almost birdlike, not quite human. Jake thinks his own neck would ache for days if he tried to do that. "Must've been, um, later," He mumbles to himself.

Jake files that away in his mental list of things to talk to Chris about later.

He walks slowly along the line of paintings. The whole point of being here is that he's supposed to pick a specific piece and write a short essay about it and the artist who made it, prove he saw it in person.

The class itself is about how to encourage better outcomes for healthcare in marginalized populations - but if she's giving out extra-credit for looking at queer art, well, Jake is happy to spend an hour in a museum.

After his dismal performance on the last test, he could use whatever credit he can get. Besides, the exhibit is actually kind of cool with that in mind. Every one of these artists was in some way outside of the sort of het ideal, and Jake smiles a little as he catches the heaviness of a look between two men seated across a table from one another, looks over the clasped hands of women, sitting with everything from shoulder to hip touching, who are listed as 'friends visiting the riverbank'.

Art that celebrates, hidden in plain sight. Art that rebels by sliding details in under the surface where only those looking for them will find them.

Each piece has another little paper, although this just has details about the artist and their work, what they were known for. He can use it as a jumping-off point for his paper, anyway.

"You, you, you finished her," Chris whispers, standing in front of a sculpture of a woman with her head thrown back as if in uproarious laughter, a woman with curls expertly carved so that her hair seems to have been there before the stone it's made of somehow. "I wonder if she, um, if if if she saw it."

"What'd you say, Chris?" Jake blinks, pulled out of his own internal reverie.

"Nothing," Chris responds, and walks slowly around the statue. The woman's smile is a shining light in the room. No one could carve like that without being at least a little in love with the subject.

Jake wanders away and then comes to an abrupt stop before a large painting, probably taller than Chris is. The background is near-total darkness with only a suggestion of stone, a single beam of light shining down to illuminate the central figure.

A naked boy clothed only in scraps of torn cloth that only emphasize his nakedness everywhere else is crouched in terror. His knees are bent and his feet are on the floor, one hand holding his weight with fingers slightly curled, his spine bent and arched as if he is caught in the midst of turning to look up to find the direction of the light. His other hand is thrown out, as if trying to ward off an attack.

He bleeds from a dozen or more places, the blood curving perfectly around his form, giving it extra weight and heft that makes it seem like he'll step out of the canvas, grab Jake, and shake him.

Jake's heart starts to race as he stares.

There are bones littering the ground around the thin, wasted boy, not bleached but sort of yellowed, marked with little notches as if cut with a knife. There might still be bits of skin attached to some of them, a hint of muscle. The detail makes Jake sick, but his panic, that comes from something else entirely. Just behind the panicked boy there is a body, as if just fallen, the eyes still open in the final terrified throes of death. The body's fingers are still dug into the dirt floor as if the dead man had been trying to pull himself somewhere, to escape.

A skull watches with eerie cheer from one corner of the painting, a few teeth missing and knocked out from its garish grin.

Barely visible, a thin wash of grayish-white, there is a pale, gnarled hand near the bottom reaching out from the background as if to grab the boy's ankle and drag him into the darkness.

Count Ugolino's Last Son, oils, 1932, reads the little plaque beside the painting. Its faint brassy shine glints in the carefully calibrated light. Edward Tooley, 1907 - 1936.

Jake swallows, but the lump in his throat doesn't budge, and he swallows again. And again. He can't take his eyes off the boy's painted hair, a dirtied copper, strawberry-blond badly in need of a wash. The wide green eyes with their terror writ large and clear, painted with lovingly perfect detail.

The boy in the painting is the perfect identical twin of the vampire who is still staring at the sculpture on the other side of the room. The fear in his face is so expertly done as to seem more photographic than painted in oil. The blood that drips to the ground follows his anatomy with absolute perfection. The bones are not bleached by they so often are in paintings, no, these...

These...

Jake holds his phone up and takes a photo, and then another of the little plaque.

"Chris." His voice cracks and Jake clears his throat. His heart is still pounding. "Chris, come look at this."

"Yes, Jake," Chris answers, sounding a little faint, and then he seems to simply appear at Jake's elbow, the teenage boy who has seen two world wars and a half-dozen smaller, stupider ones.

He goes still at Jake's side when he looks up. Jake looks over, just slightly, glancing sidelong to see a look of something like... wistfulness on the vampire boy's face.

"Tooley," He breathes. His hand goes up, and out, and he would have touched the canvas if Jake hadn't reached out and grabbed on to stop him. Chris jumps a little and turns to meet Jake's gaze. His eyes are pink-tinged in the whites, as if he's holding back tears. "Is, is, is he famous?"

"I guess. He's... he's here, isn't he?"

"He always wanted to, um, to to to to be famous." Chris's eyes move over the details, but it's not with surprise, it's with easy familiarity. He's seen this painting before.

He's been this painting before.

"That's you, isn't it?" Jake asks in a hushed voice. "Like, that was really you."

Chris looks away again, a faint flush in his cheeks. He's full enough of blood for it to happen, and you'd never know he isn't alive if you didn't already. "Yes," He whispers, and wipes at the corner of his eye with one hand. "That, that, that's me."

"Were you his model?" Jake blinks, looking back over the painted twin of the vampire beside him. The fear in the boy's face, woven in with a kind of awful resignation. It's all so perfectly rendered.

"Yes. Sort, um. Sort of. He, he, he kept me in a room." Chris exhales, slowly, and his eyes shift over to the paper with the little bit of biographical information on it. Edward Tooley's early works focused on landscapes or retreads of common historical subjects, only to find greater excellence and focus when he began to paint, again and again, the same figure - a representation of the darkness of the human soul - he stated appeared to him and demanded to be portrayed... art historians believe Tooley was driven by the demons of the Great War that had taken his family from him one by one to seek out uncomfortable subjects that force viewers to see the damage humans do to one another...

Chris's nose wrinkles as he reads, his lips moving slightly with the words as he takes them in. "I never did that. Never, um, wanted to be painted. Also, um this, um. He was... wasn't... he wasn't... wasn't like the paper says."

Jake looks over, reads it himself. Gregarious, sociable, popular with the libertine art crowd... he frowns. "What part is wrong?"

"This." Chris points, this at least he can safely make contact with, and presses the pad of his finger under a sentence that reads took inspiration from the ugly side of the city hidden under its shining lights. "He, he, he he didn't care about anyone in the city. He thought everyone who, who who who who-who wasn't him was, um, was stupid."

"What did he care about?" Jake imagines telling his professor that instead of an essay, he's going to bring in a vampire who literally knew one of the artists in person. How she might react.

Probably call the cops and report an unsecured vampire loose on the streets. But maybe she'd listen to what Chris had to say first.

"Blood," Chris says, softly. His voice is getting lower and lower, until it's barely more than a whisper. "Pain. Fear. Being... being the the the the last person who, who saw someone. He, he, he, he liked to lay them out and paint them, liked me to, to, to... arrange them for him."

Jake's eyes go unwillingly back to the dead body behind the scared boy in the painting. The grasping fingers, the open eyes that look sightless, lifeless, at nothing at all. When he looks, he can see - more suggestion than made clear - that the body's throat is torn open, as if by an animal's teeth.

Now, only now that he's looking for it, does he realize there is the slightest hint of red tears on the cheeks of the painted boy, a sheen of pink on his teeth where he begs for mercy from the grasping singular hand coming out of the dark.

His stomach flips again. "Chris, are you saying-"

"His, his, his name was Ben." Chris nods at the dead body in the painting. "I asked. Before..." He gestures, a little vaguely. "That."

Jake feels a sudden, wild urge to look up missing persons cases from New York City in 1932. See if there's anyone named Ben on there. He knows without having to do so that there definitely will be.

"What happened to him... after?"

"I don't know. I, I, I was never let out when Tooley was gone. I... wonder how, how, how many of me there are." Chris looks up at the echo of his own face, his head tilting again. His lips tremble, just a little, and then part to show the hint of white teeth wet with pinkish saliva. "On walls, in houses, in... in places like, um. Like this. How many there are... is, is, is, is that what I still look like?"

Jake clears his throat again, looks down at his feet. This feels, suddenly, like he's walked in on someone looking down at his own dead body in a funeral home. Interrupting a moment so immensely private it shouldn't even exist.

"Yeah," he says, a little gruffly. "Yeah, that's it. More or less. Except I hope I scare you less than that. Also you wear a lot more clothes with us."

Chris laughs - it's a huff of sound, barely-there. Then he turns away from himself. "We, we, we can't see ourselves, in mirrors," He says, and he's got the little plastic bat back in his hand, rubbing his thumb over the carved silicone. "But I have mirrors everywhere. On these walls."

He goes suddenly terribly still. He isn't breathing.

He doesn't have to, but the realization that he isn't even pretending is a jolt of awareness of exactly how dead Chris is. He leaves the exhibit, and Jake is left to scramble after him, struggling to catch up to someone he should be able to easily outrun.

He breaks into a flat run when they get outside the double-doors, jumps the steps three at a time with grace, and runs across the grass and towards the stand of trees halfway across the park. Even Jake, who works out four days a week, is breathing hard and has a hitch in his rib by the time he catches up.

He finds Chris curled up under a tree in the evening dark, the stars starting to twinkle overhead as the sun finally allows them a clear night sky to shine in.

Jake drops to his knees, ignoring the damp that seeps into his jeans from soil that still hasn't dried since yesterday's rains, and he leans over, putting a warm hand to either side of the vampire's face.

Chris looks up, his eyes glinting like a cat's briefly in the dark, and there are trails down his cheeks, his lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl that is anything but angry.

No, this is grief.

This is loss.

Jake knows the feeling.

"Talk to me," Jake says softly. "Tell me what it was like, what it's been like for you. Tell me about the life you've lived before I knew you."

"It, it, it hurt," Chris whispers, and his own hands cover Jake's. They're the same temperature as the air around them, and Jake shivers a little. It's almost a chill. "Every time. I, I, I try not to kill, Jake, I try so hard, but but but he would keep me so hungry and I couldn't-... stop..."

Jake thinks about the robbers Chris killed - for him, to save him from them - and how he'd locked himself in the closet afterward. Had he cried like this, over taking lives even when in defense?

"The museum thing said this guy Tooley died in 1936. He was only, what, twenty-nine? Did... did you-"

"Yes." Chris's voice is thick but it's not quite with regret. "I was hungry. He, he he he he didn't bring food. I was so hungry... then I was, um, was alone for a while... then, then, then, then then then I was taken for, for, for the, um, the trade, for my v-venom, and..."

"Got it. I got it, Chris. It's okay," Jake says, softly. "It's going to be okay. You're with us, now. And we'll never, ever make you hurt someone that way. We'll never make you go hungry. We'll never hurt you or use you."

Chris ducks his head, rocking forward until it knocks into Jake's shoulder, and Jake slides his arms around the vampire's shoulders, listening to his soft, muffled sobs, wondering how red his shirt will be stained by the time the vampire's tears have been cried out.

The same mouth that tore out the throat of a dead body that lays in a painting on the wall is so close to his neck it would take less than an inch for him to bite down. Even without fangs, he could lock his jaw and break the skin.

The same dangerous monster that has killed likely dozens to stay alive, the same stalking predator that has been the last sight of far too many, cries in his arms. Just a teenage boy who has been lonely, and terrified, and hurt for too long.

A teenager... and a monster that hunts prey after dark. Jake tightens his arms around Chris, holds him tighter.

It doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter how long he's been alive, not really.

He's just Chris.

That matters more.

-

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @insaneinthepaingame @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @newandfiguringitout @astrobly @endless-whump @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @doveotions @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @what-a-whump

[castlevania-afterdark-imagines]

A series of events leading to sleeping naked with Trevor under his cloak. Or with Dracula under his. Please?

Doing this kind of like they’re in the early stages of being in a relationship. Venturing into physical but not fully confident in the nude yet. Namely because if this was far into said relationship sleeping naked under his cloak is just a translation for “bedtime ritual”. (Also I cannot really see many situations where you are going to get the Lord of Darkness, Master of the Night, Vlad Dracula Tepes to sleep naked under only a cloak. The guy has a whole fuckin castle to make use of afterall, you know he has some royal standard bedding available.

The dangers of the road were usually pretty standard when traveling with Trevor.

Bandits? Yup. Monsters? Easy. Terrible weather? Ha, as if he hasn’t slept completely soaking wet a thousand times due to a sudden storm.

The wheel axle snapping and promptly tossing the two of you from the front seat into a pile of questionably smelling road muck? That was new.

After fixing the axle well enough to reach the next town, the two of you didn’t have to do much but give each other a strained look of “I love you but you reek” to prompt directing your cart off the road towards a nearby river.

Even Trevor has limits on how much grime he can handle. He bails on any pretense of being “gentlemanly” and strips before you can negotiate who should turn their gaze away first.

Not that you get much time to observe before he’s fully submerged and scrubbing the filth off his skin. To be honest, you were also preoccupied trying to do the same.

After a solid hour of washing clothes and equipment there’s a bit of an awkward dance trying to set up a camp and lay out clothing to dry around the fire without too much obvious peaking. 

Trevor, lucky bastard, at least still has his cloak to hide away under. It had been warm enough that day that he hadn’t been wearing it during *the incident*. That also meant he was the one setting up for dinner while you took shelter in the cart.

You both find relative comfort resting by the fire on a spare blanket but after he sees you start to shiver once the sun dips behind the trees he errs on the side of practicality and offers for you to come join him under it. God knows it’s big enough for two.

There’s not really many ways of fitting two sitting people under a cloak comfortably, so much to a blushing Trevor’s chagrin, you just have to sit your bare naked ass on his bare ass naked lap.

He tries very hard (heh) to keep from getting excited about the position, thinking of monster guts and errant kicks to the nuts during past tavern brawls but well... he’s a simple man and his very attractive partner is sitting in his lap. 

Once you notice and give a cheeky wiggle of your hips (to be sure you weren’t “sitting on a log or something”) Trevor chokes out a rough “We should get some rest” and carefully dumps you out of his lap so he can move to put out the fire, leaving you covered by the cloak draped over your head.

He waits for you to get into the cart before extinguishing the last of the embers, praying the cold night air helps his raging hardon be less... evident.

When he finds his way into the wagon he finds you spread out on the blanket with the cloak draped over you. He reaches around to try and find another but you roughly grab his arm and just pull him to lie down with you.

At that point he lets you lead, arranging him to how you feel comfortable. That ends with you resting your head on his chest, hand delicately running over the scars running down his sternum.

He of course is desperately trying to figure out if he should be taking this as some sort of sexual lead or if he’s just the best source of heat within your reach. He chooses caution this time and tries to remain still, letting himself relax to the sound of your breathing.

After a few rinse and repeat attempts of trying to sleep and then waking up to the temptation of your warm skin brushing against his, he relents and lets himself cuddle into you, turning onto his side so he can get his other arm around you and pull you to his chest.

Survival, of course... and comfort.

[thenightling]

The Dreaming: waking Hours issue 11 review

Okay, there’s a  lot to unpack here.   First the good.

Daniel was actually portrayed as competent and compassionate. Hurray! 

Too bad those sparks of intelligence from Daniel don’t seem to last very long when he’s not being written by Neil.  

 Also I was right that Heather is trans and that was not treated as a major plot point.   More on that later.

Though I have to wonder, with all her power, why she transitioned medically instead of magically.  I imagine if she used magick to transition she wouldn't need permanent hormone medication.  I know it helps to represent the real trans condition but sometimes you want a little convenient magical escapism of making it easier. 

Now for the picking apart / bad stuff.   

Though G. Willow Wilson is well-versed in faery lore enough to know the rules about true names and concepts like The Unseelie I am afraid she mishandles them a bit.   For example she treats the Unseelie like this one specific faceless type of fae instead of an entire fae court of dark fae that usually entails goblins, trolls, drow, imps, etc.  

She also doesn’t seem to know that in most depictions of Oberon and Titania they were nonchalant and very familiar with each other’s infidelities.   Oberon should not have been surprised (especially this far into things) that Titania slept with Morpheus.  

Titania all but bluntly spelt it out at The Wake.  I am fairly certain Oberon was there.  Where was he when she spoke?  Drinking in the back?

In some faery lore Nuala was Oberon’s lover.  I had figured that was the reason Titania saw to it she was given as a gift to Morpheus.  It was both a means to possibly get rid of her or if Morpheus didn’t accept the gift (she must have known his anti-slavery stance) it would have given a justifiable excuse for the Fae to go to war with The Dreaming and potentially lay claim to the key to Hell in Season of Mists.   

Even Disney’s Gargoyles acknowledged this aspect of their character dynamic. When Oberon learned that Titania had a half-human child in the episode The Gathering Part 1 of Disney’s Gargoyles his response was (while grinning and chuckling) “Mother?!  Titania, what HAVE you been up to?”  

In the Shakespeare play, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, it was pretty clear that Oberon wanted Titania to sleep with Bottom while he had an ass’s head (blatant metaphor) as a means to humiliate her. 

Moving on.

Yes, I was right that Heather is trans.  I am very glad it was not a major plot point before now.  However, the way her “True name” was handled wasn’t as good as I had hoped.  I had hoped that the fact that she chose the name Heather After that this has become her true name.  But the implication here is her deadname could have been used as her true name.  That bothers me.

I always figured true names (the name that can be used to summon and bind a magick user or supernatural creature) didn’t necessarily have to be the name you had at birth.  For example Vlad III of Wallachia is more well known as Drakulya (Dracula), the name he chose for himself as a patronymic homage to his father and so got used as his own house name.

In the 1985 Fright Night the character of Peter Vincent at first said “That isn’t even my real name.” But after he undergoes considerable character growth and puts protecting others before his own fear he starts saying “I AM Peter Vincent, the great vampire killer!”  The persona became his true name. 

True names are NOT necessarily the name you had at birth.  This is part of why I feel the previous aspect of Dream may have Morpheus as as close to a true name as he’s got.  That’s why he’s credited as Lord Morpheus instead of Dream in The Sandman audio drama and calling out to him by the name Morpheus is how he came to rescue Rose from Funland in The Sandman: The Doll’s House.

 So anyway, I’m conflicted about this scene in The Dreaming: Waking Hours.  I’m glad the deadname didn’t work as the true name but I would have felt better of Heather had become her true name.  That would have, in my opinion, been more satisfying than “There’s no such thing as a true name.”

Something else that bugged me... All the ham-handed anti-monarchy commentary.  In real life monarchies are not great buuut we’re talking about the faerie court here. They’re not human.  Can you even imagine what the goblins would vote for if they had a democracy?   “Okay, that’s 97% in favor of abducting every infant in Manhattan.  And 3% wrote in ‘Chilli dogs.’  I didn’t know they could spell...”

It’s become a little embarrassing to me how every fantasy written by Americans has become anti-monarchy. Disney’s Descendants, Once Upon a time’s finale (they voted...), Game of Thrones’ ending, because having any sort of vote in a world that never had any before would totally work out well at that point in their culture....  Even on Tumblr I came across someone who thought they could “fix” the “Dumpster fire” that is Nightmare before Christmas by having the mayor strip Jack Skellington of his Pumpkin King title as punishment for what he did to Christmas since “You can’t learn your lesson if you do wrong without punishment.”    Frankly, I’m tired of the anti-monarchy stuff where it doesn’t actually work.  

And the deliberately weak argument written for Titania of “But I’m Beautiful and Ancient!”   Also what’s with the weird almost-fetishism that she’s still wearing those manacle cuffs? Why didn’t Oberon or even Nuala take those off of her yet since they’re working together?  

This is interesting because right here in the final page Heather quotes the very spell that invoked Morpheus.  I have been mentally conditioned that every time I see black talk bubbles with white text in a Sandman universe comic my first thought is “Morpheus?” even though we have already seen it used for other characters in things like the Dan Watters run of Lucifer.

But the combination of quoting the invocation spell that trapped Morpheus, the talk bubble, and the golden thread (that resembles Morpheus’ life thread) has me intrigued and I don’t want to get my hopes up at the possibilities. 

And still, for all my nitpicking, this IS the best version of The Dreaming to date. 

I love Heather.  I think she’s very well written.  She’s the best original character of any Sandman spin-off.  I just think the anti-monarchy ranting is very misplaced in the realm of Faerie.   Think of what their parliament would consist of.   It’s like the minion of Jadis, The White Witch from Chronicles of Narnia, combined with the goblin muppets from Labyrinth, and the fae from Lost Girl combined.  

[draconicocelot]

The Little Vampire Fic : Never Again - Part One

Hello again “Little Vampire Fandom”! I’ve been very excited to write this one and I hope you all enjoy!

Summary: Rudolph visits Tony in San Diego only to find out he is struggling.

***********************

Flying to Tony’s house had become such a familiar route to Rudolph that he could fly to San Diego from Transylvania with his eyes closed. It was a pain to deal with the difference in time zones, the change in weather, and the fact that it was about a 40 hour flight for him. There were definitely some instances in which he wished he could just board a plane like everyone else and almost cut the trip in half, but flying without a plane was much more fun. There was a lot of stopping involved along the way to make sure he stayed out of the sun, but overall, he made it to Tony’s house exactly when he said he would. Tony had just been released on a long weekend and got Friday off, as well as the Monday the next week. They tried to coordinate trips with Tony’s school schedule so that they could see each other as much as possible but also keep Tony’s sleeping schedule as in-tact as it could be. 

As Rudolph flew over the quiet neighborhood where Tony lived, he took a moment to appreciate his surroundings. There was the smell of a distant fire as someone must have been camping out in their backyard. It was on the late side for a family outing, but a group of teenagers was probably taking advantage of the crisp autumn evening. It was always a wonderful temperature there, but some nights got more chilly than others. The wind blew against Rudolph’s face, but he could barely feel a difference since his skin was already so cold to the touch. 

He was almost quivering with anticipation as he reached the familiar white house with four windows on the front of it, a big grey roof, and a fence surrounding a small front yard. It was a nice family home for three people, and since the space was slightly larger than they needed, it was a wonderful location for parties or just having company over. Tony’s bedroom was the last room on the left when he approached the right side of the house. Just as he hoped, there was a singular light shining from his window which meant Tony was still expecting him. The double-hung window was covered by beautiful mulberry colored curtains, but he could see the light slightly peeking through. Rudolph swooped in and leaned against the wall as his long black nails, which could be classified as claws with how long and sharp they were, made a gentle tapping sound against his window. 

Usually, Rudolph heard Tony call out to him and say something along the lines of, “I’ll be there in a second!” or “Coming Rudy!”. However, this time he could only hear the sounds of shuffling feet and a soft thud as if he just got out of bed. Not only that but usually Tony had his room lights turned on so that it was a bigger beacon for him. On this night, Tony had only kept his bedside lamp turned on. Rudolph didn’t have time to think about what was going on as he heard the crack of the window opening slightly. Two hands suddenly squeezed out from under the lift of the window and pushed up on it until Rudolph could fit inside. As he flew through the curtains, he followed through with his habit and shut the window behind him. Tony’s room looked the same way it had when he visited before. The walls were a deep purple color, and with the red-tinted curtains and all of the vampire-themed décor in the room, it almost felt like they never left the castle. Even Tony’s bedsheets had a picture of the traditional Dracula print on them with bat fabric for his pillowcase. Rudolph couldn’t help but feel flattered that he had enough of an interest in vampires that he dedicated his bedroom to them.  

“Tony! It’s-” Rudolph didn’t even get time to speak before Tony had rammed into him, his arms tightly wrapping around his back. Rudolph was shocked, Tony had never acted this way when he came to visit, but he hugged him back. He knew it had been weeks, but they had gone months without seeing each other. Did he really miss him that much? Suddenly, Tony huffed out a laugh and pulled back.

“Sorry… it’s been a rough day,” Tony sighed. His face was barely visible since the only light in the room was coming from the bedside lamp, but Rudolph could see that he was covering his right eye with his hand. “It’s very good to see you Rudy.”

“It is wonderful to see you as well, Tony,” he ran his fingers through his hair until he hit a tangled mass, which Tony seemed to notice.

“So, what do you want to do tonight? Looks like we should deal with your hair first,” Tony chuckled, but his voice was overlaid with exhaustion and another emotion that Rudolph couldn’t quite place. Fear? Anger? Sadness? Pain? 

“I suppose so,” Rudolph copied his laugh, but then floated over to Tony and hovered in the air across from his seat on the side of the bed. “However, first you must tell me what is wrong.” Tony dismissed the request as he waved his other hand in the air and smiled while keeping the upper half of his face shrouded in the dark. 

“It’s no big deal, Rudy. School has just been tough and I…” Tony paused, noticing that Rudolph was not buying it. His arms were crossed and his eyebrow was raised in disbelief. “Okay… fine,” Tony groaned as he lowered his hand away from his eye. Rudolph quietly gasped aloud as he gazed at the swollen purple and black bruise surrounding his eye. It looked awful, and since Rudolph became concerned when Tony even got a papercut, seeing such an obvious injury terrified him.

“T-Tony! What happened?! Are you alright?!” Rudolph flew over to him and put his cold hand against Tony’s cheek. Tony flinched as the whole area around his eye was sore making Rudolph retract his hand immediately. 

“Don’t worry so much, I’m fine. I accidentally tripped and hit this side of my head against my bedpost. It hurts a little bit but it’ll go away soon,” Rudolph took a deep breath as he felt himself relax. At least Tony was alright and that his injury was just a clumsy accident. 

“Well, as long as you’re alright… Then I shall grab the brush,” Tony smiled brightly as he felt relieved that the topic was dropped. He found it strange that Tony didn’t want to talk about it, but he just assumed it was because the fall may have been embarrassing. Luckily, the rest of the night seemed to distract Tony from his bad day. They started by dealing with Rudolph’s tangled hair, which was something that became a habit whenever they got together. Gregory and Anna even made fun of him because they always could tell when he came back from seeing Tony by the fact that his hair didn’t look like a bird’s nest. 

Then they moved onto watching a bunch of cheesy vampire movies which they just ended up criticizing more than actually watching. Tony knew so much more about vampires now, and considering he had the real thing sitting right next to him, they were able to debunk most of the stunts and myths shown in the movies. Either way, it was still fun. The two ended up staying up until about 3:00 a.m before Tony showed signs of falling asleep. They were halfway through their third vampire movie when Rudolph felt something press against his shoulder. When he looked over, Tony had passed out and was now leaning against him. Rudolph smiled as he unhooked his cape from his collar and wrapped it around him. He slowly stood while keeping his arms under Tony so that he didn’t fall over as he grabbed the sheets and pulled them over him. As soon as he was tucked into the bed, Rudolph headed for the window and opened it slowly. Now that Tony was asleep, it was time for Rudolph to go and eat. It had been a long trip after all, but he never wanted Tony to have to worry about that side of the whole vampire thing.

***

As the sun shined in Tony’s eyes, he winced and started to stir. He woke up at about 10:00 a.m with a note left on his bedside table. It stated: “Your father and I are off shopping about ten minutes away. We will be back around dinner time and then we will be off to the theater. Let us know if you care to join us! Say hello to Rudolph for us! Love you!” 

Tony smiled as he set the note back down and stretched, each segment of his spine popping as his back straightened. Bob, Tony’s father, had built him a life-sized coffin for his birthday one year to play pretend with. It was made of real wood, and it was even stained to have a rich cedar finish. While Tony used to use it when he pretended to be a vampire, it eventually became Rudolph’s bed whenever he came over. He even covered the inside with blankets and pillows so it was extremely comfortable. While it was counterproductive to Rudolph’s love of dark and cramped spaces, he came to really appreciate the comfort of the coffin he slept in at Tony’s place.

“Rudy? You still awake?” Tony mumbled as he leaned over to his bedside where the coffin was lying on the floor. 

“Noisy as always, aren’t you mortal?” Rudolph replied, his voice muffled from the thick wooden slab between them. He was satisfied as soon as he heard Tony laugh from inside his dark sanctuary. What he didn’t see was Tony clutching his side and quietly hissing through his teeth as if he had hurt himself by laughing. He grimaced slightly as he pulled up his t-shirt and observed the dark brown bruises that were scattered over his torso like the splotches on a cow’s hide. As he heard the creaking of the coffin door he quickly pulled his shirt back down and glanced at Rudolph with an optimistic smile. 

“Old habits die hard I guess,” was Tony’s response. Rudolph made sure the coffin door was still slightly shut so that the sunlight couldn’t reach him as he smiled up at him. “Oh! Here’s your cape back by the way,” Tony pulled Rudolph’s cape out from underneath the sheets and tossed it over to him. “I guess I’m not used to staying up that late without you visiting.”

“Don’t worry, I only slightly judged you,” Tony stuck his tongue out at him as Rudolph playfully hissed back. 

“Well, I’m going to go get breakfast. I’ll see you again this evening, okay?” Rudolph nodded with a big yawn as he laid back down in the coffin. 

“Good day, mortal,” the coffin lid closed with a thud as Tony made his way out of the room. Rudolph had just managed to settle in when he heard Tony’s phone go off. Usually, he didn’t intend to snoop in Tony’s personal matters, but he had been acting strangely ever since he came. He wasn’t as awake and excited as he usually was, and he seemed to be sensitive when it came to going for a flight or anything that involved a lot of moving. Rudolph respected his boundaries, but he also wanted to help Tony, even if he didn’t want to be helped. As he opened the lid slightly, he was able to slide the phone into his coffin without coming into contact with the sun. 

When he opened the phone he saw Tony’s usual lock screen, which was a commissioned drawing of him and “a vampire” that just happened to look exactly like Rudolph. He couldn’t take pictures with Rudolph since he never appeared in any of them, but he had hired an artist to draw a digital photo of the two of them just from Tony’s description. Surprisingly, the artist drew him almost perfectly. When he looked at the screen, he saw that there was one notification for an email that came in. Rudolph put in Tony’s password, which was conveniently “Rudy” or “7839” in numbers on the keypad. His home screen was actually a picture of Tony and his parents standing in front of the castle they first met in. Tony was on the very end with one arm around his mom and the other around what looked like nothing. He was actually putting his arm around Rudolph, and that was the photo they first took and realized that he could never be seen in them. It was touching either way that that was Tony’s home screen. Even if he couldn’t be seen, Tony knew who was there. 

As Rudolph finally reached the email, he saw that the sender was named Nigel Appleby. He figured it was someone from school or a friend of his in the neighborhood. That was until he read the subject line. “Better Be There”. Rudolph narrowed his eyes in suspicion as he read on further. 

“If you really do have this ‘vampire friend’, how come none of us have seen him? I for one think it’s a shame you have to depend on imaginary friends to keep you company, Thompson. You couldn’t find a real friend even if you tried. Tell you what, you bring this friend of yours to meet us at 6:00 tonight. If you can prove that you’re not spouting nonsense every single day, which you are, then prove it. You wanna be left alone? Here’s your chance, kid. See you then. 

Nigel”

[my-fanfic-library]

Something Different {BBC Dracula x Reader} [18]

Masterlist

A/N: I just wanted to say thank you to everyone giving the series so much love and support, I genuinely cannot express how grateful I am for it all. I also just wanted to say a special thank you to @newheart97 for helping me with the plot line ❤️❤️❤️

Oh also Claes’ smile is killing me UWU

~^*^~

Standing in a dimly lit passageway, you turned on your feet to look behind you. Torches flickered at either ends and the fire danced, seemingly pointing you in the direction that you needed to go. Beginning to walk, the echo of your shoes filled the confined space and your hands grazed the cobble walls either side of you. It was cold and you swore you could hear footsteps behind you.

Where were you?

Following the flames, you navigated through the winding halls until you came to an opening in the bricks and a large set of double doors faced you. They stretched up and seemed to be shut tight. That didn’t stop you from nearing them and grasping the round metal handle. It was cool to the touch. You pushed first and then pulled. The wood gave way and the door opened. A low light flooded over you and you looked ahead to find yourself at the top of a sweeping staircase. Slowly, you moved through the door and began to descend the steps. A large and beautiful chandelier hung in the centre of the ceiling, and it seemed that the stairs were circling around it. You continued to look forward, noticing a lowering in the ceiling over a long table and at the back, a fireplace. Sitting in the chair at the farthest end of the table, facing the fire, was... well, somebody.

When you reached the bottom of the steps, you stopped moving. The entire place seemed to be lit by fire and built by stone. It was odd.

How had you gotten here?

There was a noise as the person rose from the chair and it soon became apparent who it was. Dressed in clothes that screamed a much older period, a beautiful glass filled with deep crimson in his fingers, Dracula turned to look at you.

“Come,” he beckoned you over.

As if you had no control over your body, you began to walk forwards again. Your eyes were trained on him.

“Where am I?” You asked softly as you neared him.

“Where do you think?”

When you were close enough, your hand slipped into his and he pulled you close. He pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek and looked down at you.

“If I knew that I wouldn’t have asked.” You rolled your eyes. Dracula chuckled.

“My sweetness, look around you. Surely, you must recognise it from somewhere.” He promoted your eyes to look around once more. You scanned the room. You definitely hadn’t been here. But had you heard of it?

As you turned your head to look at Dracula, a man was sitting where Dracula just had been. It was for a split second but you saw him so clearly. A bald head with the blue trees just below the skin that were filling with vampiric venom. His eyes were sunken in, fingernails gone and deep, blood-filled welts in their places. In his hand, a pen and below his face which was twisted in pain, three written letters. Blood oozed form his mouth and dripped on to the parchment. You screamed which morphed into a gag.

Jonathan Harker.

It clicked as the account you had once read with Zoe came into your head. Three letters, just like the ones under his head, sent to his fiancée so that she wouldn’t worry. The baby that had been given to one of his brides - the heroic man had tried to call the vampire out on it. This grand place belonged to the Count.

“Drac... how did I get to Transylvania...?” You inquired warily.

“I would like to think that you are able to recall a conversation that we once had, about the friend of yours?”

“Jack...?” You narrowed your eyes in confusion as you stepped backwards away from the vampire.

“Exactly. Do you remember it?”

“You... you told me that you’d continue to keep in contact if I... kept myself to myself...”

Dread filled your gut. Dracula took a sip from his glass and began staring you down.

“Well done,” he whispered, “except, you didn’t keep your end of the deal, did you?”

“I... I thought you were dead!” Your voice trembled. Dracula placed the glass down on the table and you stared at it in horror, “is that mine..?” The blood.

Using his hand, Dracula directed your gaze back to him.

“I warned you, [First],” he mumbled, nearing his face to yours. His lips hovered on the corner of yours, mostly on your cheek, but a little overlapping your own, “I told you. You pushed me to this.”

He flipped you up and your back smashed into the back of the table, winding you. You gasped for air, but had almost no time to recollect yourself as Dracula now hovered above you. His knee was pushed between your legs, his hands pinned your arms above your head. Your chest painfully rose and fell. You were looking up at him in terror. He lowered himself, planting a kiss on the curve of your jawline just below your ear.

“You’re going to kill me.” You whispered.

“No, sweetheart, I’m going to make you wish that you had never crossed me.”

~^*^~

Eyes snapping open, you looked around the room. Dusk had now fallen and Dracula had left. Your bedroom door was now open and there was a glass of water and the medicine Jack had promised sitting on your bedside table. You could hear the TV downstairs.

For just a second, you thought you saw a figure standing in your doorway and you gasped. It was gone.

A throbbing became apparent in your neck and there was a gentle dribble. The way that it tickled your skin annoyed you immediately and your hand flew up to collect whatever was seeping down. When you looked at your fingers, a chocked gasp left your lips. Red.

You pulled yourself up, rushing into the bathroom and locking the door. Your eyes immediately went to the mirror. A mouth shaped gash was quickly scarring over, a little blood trickling down your neck, towards your collarbone. Fuck. He’d bitten you while you slept. You had read accounts of being taken somewhere with him while he drank blood. He’d chosen to take you to Transylvania. But why there?

Fumbling in your pockets, you pulled out your phone and clicked on his speed dial. When he answered, before he could speak, you spoke.

“Meet me at the top of the path down the cliff in five fucking minutes.” You growled.

You practically stormed down the stairs, ignoring Jack’s questioning looks as you flung open the front door and left. By the time you got to the cliffs, looking down over the sea Dracula was already there. Twilight’s glow made him look somewhat angelic but you were in a blind rage to take it in.

When he heard your footsteps, he turned and grinned at you.

“You absolute moron!” You shrieked, nearing him with some rage, “you absolute fucking spoon! How could you?!”

“Now, [First], calm down-“ he licked his lips and his eyes shifted to gain a slightly nervous tinge.

“You- you marked,” you pushed him backwards with all of your strength and he did actually stumble backwards a little. You had caught him off guard, “me! You drank my blood!”

“Yes, but only a little-“

“ONLY A LITTLE?!”

He couldn’t help but feel a little endeared at the display of rage. You’d lost all of your senses. Humans were funny little things. You knew that you could never overpower him, yet here you were overrun with such anger that you were being a little physical with him. He smirked just a little.

“You don’t think I’d actually drink enough to kill you, do you?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know?! Am I-... am I going to become like you? Like Renfield?” Like Lucy? Like Jonny Harker? Am I going to die like Agatha?”

“[First]-“

“Am I?!”

“You think I’d turn the most precious and sweetest thing this pathetic world has ever been blessed with into a monster?!” He growled back at you and you took a step back in a momentary panic, “I would never hurt you, [First]! But you betrayed me! You broke your end of the deal! I warned you what would happen!”

“Betrayed you?! I thought you were dead! I moved on!”

Dracula, out of habit, took in a deep breath to calm himself. Neither of you would get anywhere by screaming at one another. Instead, he took a moment to drink in the sight of you. It really had been so long without you. The last specs of sunlight hit your skin, miraculously highlighting all of the high points of your face. The anger that had coloured your face red was still there and there was a smudge of dried blood on your neck. Your hair was slightly disheveled. God, how some other man hadn’t swept you up yet was a mystery.

“Why with him?” He asked softly, trying to finally get your conversation to a civil noise level.

“Because... he was the only person who knew how it felt... to lose someone who meant everything to you.”

It went quiet for a moment. The waves cut through the silence even from so far down away. Dracula took two steps towards you again and reached forwards to brush a lose strand of hair behind your ear. His other hand was lazily shoved into his pocket.

“I meant it.” He stated gently.

“Meant what?”

“The last thing I texted you.”

Oh.

Oh.

“But Agatha-“

“-was a close second.” He finished your sentence, “for a long time I truly believed she had revived my mundane emotions, however, the day at the Foundation when Dr. Van Helsing introduced me to the biggest and most obvious liar I’ve ever met in my 500 years,” he sucked in a shallow breath and dared himself to close a little more space between you, “that changed everything. She changed everything. She gave me the courage to die. But she was more important to me than finding the courage to conquer death. And now she’s here,” even less space, “looking at me like she’s going to kill me... and with my branding on her neck.”

You melted. The pure sincerity swimming in his orbs, the softest smile on his lips. His most gentle grip on your waist as he tugged you even closer than ever. Never in your life did you think you could stay angry at him. His free hand came up and his thumb trailed along his mark. It stung. You hissed and he hushed you by pressing a kiss to the same spot. A jolt of electricity, like nothing you had experienced before overcame you and a small moan ripped from your throat.

���What a sweet noise.” Dracula mused against your neck. The rumble of his voice carried into your chest, “come with me.” He suddenly spoke, pulling away to look you in the eye.

“What?” You whispered in soft confusion.

“Come back to London with me. Come and live with me instead. Make yourself mine.”

He said it in such a way that it felt like an order, but at the same time, it was an offer.

How could you leave Jack here? How could you give up the life you had worked so hard to build for yourself after everything? Would it be worth it? What would change now that Dracula could survive in the sunlight? How could you go with him after believing he’d never come back?

Turns out, pretty easily.

~^taglist^~

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[jettingtothemoon]

Rescue You; chapter 6

➳ pairing: hector x witch|reader ➳ genre: fantasy, angst ➳ warnings: violence, swearing, smut, mentions of rape, slavery, spoilers for seasons 1 thorough 3. ➳ word count: 3324 ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ summary: In which y/n, a witch from Dracula’s court, tries to save the forgemaster from his fate.  ➳ a/n: this one is a little longer because i was on a roll and wrote more than expected

Chapters: 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10

Doubt

He didn't move, nor did he speak. You were not sure whether to take his silence as a good sign or a bad one but nonetheless, you were ready to explain yourself to him until his hands gently pulled your arms away from him.

You stepped back, allowing him to turn around once again, but remained in his close proximity.

"No, you don't," he decided for you, not once meeting your eyes.

You reached out and placed a hand to his cheek, tenderly caressing your thumb against his warm skin. "Yes, I do."

He gently shook his head and pulled your hand from his cheek. "No one loves me. No one ever has, no one ever will."

"But I do and I think I have for a long time. I only realised it recently myself. Why do you think I kept Cezar with me? Why do you think I put myself in danger by coming here? You always knew I didn't agree with Dracula's plan so why would I be here to help them carry it out now?"

He looked up, his eyes finally meeting your own, and for a moment, he almost looked as if he believed you.

"I'm not lying to you. I've never lied to you but I am lying to them. I want to teach you magic so that when the day comes that I figure out how to get that damn ring off of your finger, you will be able to fight back," you continued, solidifying your point.

You hoped he believed you. You needed him to. If he didn't trust you then it would be so much harder to save him. His features had softened but there was still something in them that showed you he didn't believe you, or that he didn't want to believe you.

Once again, you reached out and placed your fingers under his chin, lifting his head to face you properly. "Hector, why don't you believe me?"

He was quiet for a moment but allowed you to rest your hand on his cheek. His eyes flickered over to yours and he took in a deep breath. "I do. I do believe you. It makes sense, you make sense but- but you can't."

You furrowed your brows. "Can't what?"

"Love me." His eyes strayed from yours once again, now looking at the ground.

"Why? Why can't I? Hector, I can't help if you don't talk to me."

His eyes locked with yours again for a second only to stray all over again, "Because of her."

"Lenore?" you asked and the subtle nod of his head confirmed it.

"She won't allow it. She- She-"

"What has she done to you? To make you fear her, hate her, this much? She doesn't seem to be physically harming you so what is she doing?" This time, you pried for an answer. You needed to know, you needed to make sense of everything.

He turned away, once again facing his forge with his back to you as he muttered, "It doesn't matter anymore. She doesn't come anymore because- because of you."

"But it does matter. Whether it happened before I arrived or after. Whatever it is matters because it is clearly still hurting you." You tried to get him to open up, you could see the hurt in his eyes and you knew it would never go away if he kept it bottled up inside.

"I... I don't want you to know. You've seen me at my worst but... but not that." The sound of his shattered voice broke you and another tear fell from your cheek.

You still didn't know what it was, what she had done to him, but you could see how ashamed Hector was of it. He knew that you had seen the broken pieces of him because you were the one who had picked them up, you were the one putting him back together. Despite this, he couldn't bring himself to tell you the one thing you felt you needed to know the most. You needed to know so that you could understand him, so that you could protect him.

"Look at me," he obeyed your soft words and his eyes met yours again, "No matter what it is, I won't think any less of you. Nor will I care about you any less than I do now. I could never look down on you, that's what love is."

He was quiet but his eyes remained on yours as he thought. Your eyes looked so soft, so inviting. He could spend eternity looking at them and never grow bored or run out of new specs of colour to find within them. But, after a moment, his eyes flickered down again.

"How can you be sure that you won't look down on me? That you will continue to look at me as you are right now?"

You sighed slightly and pressed your lips to his own before pulling away with a gentle smile, noticing the way his eyes had widened again, his cheeks blushing ever so faintly. "Because, as I have been saying, I love you and nothing is going to change that."

"But what if-"

"Hector." You broke him away from his uncertain thoughts and he looked at you once again.

He gulped slightly and closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath before allowing his eyes to open once again. "She tricked me into thinking she cared and betrayed me when I was at my most vulnerable. She... I've slept with her... More than once but recently, because of you, she hasn't been coming to me as often."

It felt like the entire world was shattering around you as an unbearable sorrow washed over you, but then the anger came crashing down in waves, growing more and more furious each second. You knew that she had hurt him, broken him, but you never imagined it would go this far. She had manipulated him, humiliated him and just to top it all off, violated him.

You didn't realise how hard you were clenching your fists until his hand hesitantly found it's way to yours. Your muscles began to untense, your jaw relaxing and hands unwinding, allowing him to gently interlace his gloved fingers with yours.

"I am going to save you, I promise," you reassured, more icy tears streaming down your cheeks.

He brought his hands up to your face and tenderly wiped them away with his thumbs. "You already have."

He was still hesitant around you, still adjusting to the idea that you truly cared for him and so, you were the one to step forward. Your arms were back around him once again, your head buried into his chest as you cried. It was silly that you were the one crying when he had been through so much but your heart actually ached for him. Hector was one of the few good people you had met in your life, truly good and pure, even if he had tried to aid Dracula before. He didn't deserve any of the things that had happened to him, from his parents' negligence to everything that had happened since he left Dracula's castle with Carmilla.

When you finally managed to pull yourself together, you stepped out of his warm embrace and smiled as you wiped the remnants of your tears from your face.

"I should leave you to your work, we don't want to find out what Carmilla will do if I distract you for too long."

You walked towards the door, still trying to steady your breaths. Before you left, you stopped and turned back to him. "I'll see you tonight for training."

Hector, who had already picked up his hammer again, nodded with a faint smile. "See you tonight."

As soon as you reached the corridor, you felt as though you were going to crumble. So many feelings and emotions were coursing through your body. The most prominent was the anger that had begun to rise the moment you stepped away from him.

You couldn't stop thinking about it and the more you thought about it the more you envisioned it. The way her hand would slowly drag across his skin. The taunting look she would have on her face as she proved to the forgemaster time and time again that he belonged only to her. The thing that bothered you the most, however, was the way you were sure he had turned his head away, the way he would have closed his eyes, praying that he was anywhere but there. Maybe he had even wished to be dead, if only so that he would never be subjected to her torment ever again. It broke your heart that he had been here without you for so long. You blamed yourself. You should have stayed by his side, you should have found him sooner. If only you had been here to stop it, to protect him, but you weren't.

As soon as you had closed the door and began to walk away, Hector found himself loosely dropping his hammer as he crouched down to the ground. Your conversation had changed everything. He was almost relieved when he thought you were manipulating him because it meant he could go back to how he was and feel nothing again, but everything you said made sense. He had no reason to doubt you or that you were lying to the vampires instead of him because he knew you would oppose of their plan just as much as you had Dracula's.

He ran his hands through his hair, tugging slightly in frustration. Then, his fingers hovered over his lips, over where yours had been, and he smiled. He felt guilty. Guilty because he was happy that you felt the same feelings for him as he did you but he knew it would only put you in danger. He knew how Lenore was, he knew she would kill you or worse if she found out you were planning on freeing him from her, let alone the fact that you actually cared for him. Lenore could deal with him having a friend, he knew that, but she was possessive of her little forgemaster. He was her pet, an accessory for her to wear, and the thought of someone getting in the way of that would infuriate her.

When he stood back up, picking up his hammer to continue his work, the first tear fell. It was the only tear he could spare, the only tear he had shed in such a long time and, if things were to go as he feared, it would not be his last. He was hopeful that your plan would succeed but he knew these vampires, he knew Lenore, and he knew that the chances of your survival were low. Yet, he decided to let himself be happy for a while, even if it was selfish of him. Even if he knew it wouldn't last for long.

By the time it came for the evenings training, Hector was already fishing up in the forge. You were a few minutes late and he knew it was because you were trying to give him some more time after taking up his time this morning, not that he minded the distraction. Nonetheless, he was grateful that you had thought about him and allowed him some extra time to catch up with his work. He wasn't particularly afraid of Carmilla, no, Lenore was the only one he feared, but he knew that her temper would only result in a beating had he not completed his workload for the day without good reason. Sure Lenore would be the one to rescue him from Carmilla's wrath but she would make sure to punish him in her own way and, in all honesty, he would prefer for Carmilla to beat him half to death.

When the door knocked, his mood brightened and sure enough, you walked in seconds later.

"Ready for today's lesson?" You grinned, trying to hide the feelings of anger and sorrow that had been stuck with you for most of the day.

"Let's go." He returned your smile, though his was softer.

He was starting to feel more comfortable around you after you explained your true plan and your feelings for him. He was beginning to feel as though he could tell you anything because, although he had feared it, your eyes still held that same glow they always did when you looked at him. Despite finding out everything, your thoughts and feelings about him hadn't changed and that meant everything to him, the man who no one cared for. No one cared for him, no one ever had, and yet here you were proving to him that he was worth something, at least to you.

"Actually, we can stay in here for this one. It's too cold outside anyway."

It was true that it was cold outside and you would rather stay inside but another reason for you wanting to stay put was because you were afraid of running into Lenore if you ventured through the castle or out onto the grounds. It was dark and the vampires were more than likely to have risen, which meant there was a possibility of running into Lenore and if that happened, well, you were not sure if you could stop yourself from attacking her on sight.

Before long, the two of you were sitting on the floor in the middle of the room. You were directly opposite each other with an empty candlestick on the ground between you.

"Pick it up," you stated and, although he looked confused, Hector reached out to pick the candlestick up.

"Without touching it," you added and his eyes glanced up at you in disbelief.

"Without touching it?" Hector repeated as he pulled his hands away from the candlestick.

You nodded and focused your attention on the object, lifting it in seconds. "Like this. See, easy."

You allowed the candlestick to float for a moment before allowing gravity to pull it back down again. Hector rubbed his hands together and took in a deep breath before focusing on the candlestick but, despite his efforts, nothing happened.

"It's the same as it was with the fire and ice. You just have to see the candlestick, imagine what it is like to reach out and grab it. Feel the steel against your fingers, feel the pull of gravity trying to oppose you and then, pull against it, lift it," you explained and watched as Hector tired again.

Again, nothing. The next time he tired, however, the candlestick shook ever so slightly but still did not lift. Hector huffed and rolled his head back to look at the ceiling, leaning back on his hands for support. Nonetheless, he was enjoying this. His time spent with you, these lessons, they gave him a sense of comfort, of normality. Just your presence alone seemed to expel the thoughts that usually occupied his head, thoughts he didn't want to be thinking, things he didn't want to be remembering. Just seeing you had such an effect that he almost felt normal, whole even, if such a thing was possible.

"Don't worry, levitation isn't easy the first time around. You managed to move it though and that is a really good start. Just try again. We have plenty of time." Your reassurance was enough for him to try again, though he did release another frustrated sigh as anyone would when trying magic as hard as this for the first time.

Creating fire and ice was much easier because it is easier to envision. Levitation has a difficulty about it because it requires a lot of mental strength and practice to accomplish. Most normal magicians would need months or years to master it but for a forgemaster, it is just a matter of figuring it out. Hector would be able to lift the candlestick by the end of the night, that you were certain of, and it would only take him a few more tries after that to master it completely as he had with the lessons of fire and ice from before. He had no issue with conjuring those elements anymore and, despite never leaning it before, it was easy for him to pick up thanks to his magical power as a forgemaster.

You found great enjoyment in watching Hector try to lift the candlestick. Your head tilted to the side slightly as you watched the crease between his brows deepen. His lips pursed together and his eyes narrowed as he concentrated on the object before him. 

Hector was a man with a certain beauty about him which was something that only became more abundant the longer your eyes lingered on him. A strand of his silver hair fell into his eyes but he ignored it and continued to focus on lifting the candlestick, only it soon became clear that he wasn't lifting the candlestick at all as the stray strand of his wavy hair began to lift until it was horizontal with his face.

"Um, Hector..."

He snapped out of his focused trance and the hair fell back down to his face as he only just realised what he had been doing. His eyes widened and he looked at you with such confusion and innocence that you burst out laughing. You even applauded him as you giggled, amazed that he had managed to levitate something that was so different from the object he was trying to lift.

When you finally began to calm down, he chuckled softly, "I'm sorry, my hair seems to have distracted me."

And off you went again, into a complete fit of hysterics. The act itself wasn't all that funny but the way he was so focused only to levitate something completely different and then to look at you with that baffled face had you in stitches. It was so cute, he was so cute. Even Hector began to chuckle along with you, although his own laughter was tamer than yours for he was all the more aware of who could be listening.

"Okay, okay. I'm done, I think." You practically gasped for air after your laughing fit.

Although you were unaware of it, Hector, throughout your entire breakdown, watched you with a sadness that was almost masked by his own joy. He wanted nothing more than to see you laugh and smile all day every day but he knew this could only last so long. No matter how powerful of a magician you were, he knew that Lenore could have you killed without you putting up so much as a fight. He knew that because he knew you would do anything to save him, even if it meant you would give up your own life to do so. He didn't want you to value his life more than your own, he didn't understand why you did but he could see it in your eyes, that look you had every time you thought of something harming him. It was a look he had only seen a few times since your arrival, most notably during your conversation this morning, but he knew what it meant all the same.

A part of him wished you were just manipulating him, that you were just better at it than Lenore and he was a fool to believe you as he did her. He knew that the chances of it were low because it made no logical sense for you to be helping them when your interests were so different from theirs. Despite this, he was praying you would betray him because he would rather you be another to let him down than for you to be taken away from him just like everything else. He could live knowing you were lying to him, knowing you didn't really care, but he couldn't bear it if she was to take you from him because, if you really did love him, he couldn't live on knowing you died for him. He just couldn't.

Chapters: 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10

[dirthavarens]

I was waiting to make sure no one pounced you, but apparently not.#3 and/or #42 of the kissing prompts for Dragatha. Whichever catches your fancy more

For once in my goddamn life, I am actually doing this.

It had been nearly a year since Agatha Van Helsing and Count Dracula had been found off the coast of Whitby. Agatha would not settle for only herself being brought to shore upon finding herself in the unfortunate category of undead. He had changed her and he would be staked for it. Or at least she had thought. 

“Agatha, you’ve been gone an awfully long time. A husband will start to worry if his wife is gone too long, you know. I was starting to consider tacking up posters,” Dracula chides, half-pleased with himself and half curious as to her whereabouts. He had been waiting for her, just a little ways inside the door. A dog awaiting his mistress’s return.

She should have killed him by now but she was endlessly fascinated by him, even as her stomach turned uncomfortably as he claimed her as his wife. Only on paper, only because he made it so. Only because of his selfish, doggish actions was she now as he was, a vampire. A lifeless, bloodthirsty monstrosity. If not for the sake of containing him, she would have parted from him at the first opportunity. She would have turned to the nearest priest and asked to be staked; or she would have studied her own existence in death.

Agatha was able to watch him adapt, rather quickly, to a new environment and to new people. This process was no doubt hastened by his diet, secured by the blood of his victims, but fascinating nonetheless. She had taken note and eventually she dined on particular individuals that would grant her knowledge she could not obtain otherwise. 

“Based on the smell of you, I’d say you had dinner without me,” he continues when she doesn’t entertain him with a response. His nose twitches as he closes the distance between them, never caring for her personal space, and frowns. “Inferior vintage. You should take better care of yourself.”

“Unsatisfied with your wife’s diet?” she snarks back, unflinching, her thick Dutch accent still perfectly in place despite all of the English blood running through her veins. He sees it as an act of defiance, holding to tradition in a new world. She sees it as a way to connect her to her human self, something to ground her to the morality she hypocritically holds close. 

“Deeply,” he returns, decidedly ignoring her tone. Dracula leans in, sniffs at her neck with displeasure, and draws his head back, his frown growing sullen. “You do this intentionally.” 

“Feed on the dying? Of course I do,” she says as she walks deeper into their home. She should call it what it is, a gaudy and oversized prison, but she has refrained for eleven months. The former nun can hold her tongue far longer than he ever could and she wasn’t about to entertain certain arguments.

She ignores the footfalls behind her, used to him following her around like a lost child, pestering her whenever he saw fit. Through the foyer, through the hall, crossing down a staircase and into the bowels of the near castle-sized home, they went. She wanted her study some place he could not enter, some place entirely hers. Once she found that she was impervious to the weaknesses he possessed, she used them to her advantage.

Down a dimly-lit hall and to a room with a cross affixed to the door, she hears him give a puff of breath and his shoes stop clicking against the stone floor.

“This? Again? Agatha, you’re stuck with me for all eternity and you’re going to spend that eternity pouting in your dismal little room?”

“Asks the man who sleeps in a box of dirt,” she shoots back as she opens the door, a line of Biblical pages lining the entryway. Agatha steps inside and turns to look at him. It reminds her of the convent a year prior and the knowledge that he cannot follow grants her mind some peace. “When was the last time you slept in a bed?”

She doesn’t wait for an answer and closes the door. 

He irritates her beyond measure, beyond rationality, and yet she remains in his--their--home. Carfax Abbey was a quick fix, if only for his “talent” of suggestibility over others. Six months and they had a completely renovated property, complete with all his little secret passageways and hideaways. She had been impressed with his vision, though she would never admit it to him. 

She reaches for a book she had recently picked up and takes residence on the small loveseat he bought for her on a whim. It could have been seen as a token of affection had it not been from him and an attempt for her to let him into the study.

The novel was a cryptozoological text on lycanthropy, werewolves, and the various mentions of them throughout history. She reads through it with idle interest, her annoyance ebbing as she turns each page, scribbling quick notes as she reads. 

When she’s satisfied with her research, nearly two hours later, Agatha stands and stretches. It’s a purely human habit she hasn’t been able to rid herself of since turning. Not to mention, the more human behaviors she kept, the more he disapproves, and that is a win in her book. 

The former nun blinks a few times and looks to the door behind her. It has been hours since she entered the room and she feels it safe enough to exit into the corridor. Safe enough from his prying eyes, his alluring presence, her weaknesses so human it sickens her. While he annoyed her beyond imagination, she can’t bring herself to part with him, if only to watch him. She keeps justifying her presence, her very existence, on keeping his destructive tendencies at bay. The Count can hardly keep himself in order but she has that power over him. Even if she needed a moment to herself every now and then, he would always bend to her whims. 

When she opens the door, she’s greeted by him, sitting against the wall of the stone corridor. He’s staring emptily at the opposing wall, unmoving, unbreathing, until she appears in the doorway. Agatha nearly scoffs at his behaviors, a dog awaiting his mistress, a beast suddenly unable to survive on its own. 

“Have you been waiting here the whole time?” she asks, her tone severe despite the warmth that unfurls within her. It’s not romantic, it’s stalking, she reminds herself. However, upon further inspection, she notices his change of clothes and lively hue of his skin.

“As a matter of fact,” he starts, standing and moving towards her. “I just returned and I want you to taste something.”

He’s too close now, just a breath away from her mouth and the scent of blood is heavy on his lips. Agatha can feel her teeth shape into fangs and knows her eyes are drenching in the crimson hue of bloodlust. 

“And what would that be?” she provokes, unwavering despite the way her body sways towards his form. She damns herself, damns him, for the way her figure acts of its own accord, ignoring her mind’s wishes to steer clear of him. 

“Fresh blood, Agatha. You need to remember what it tastes like. Maybe then, you’ll stop these preposterous little games of yours and submit to your nature. It’s what vampires are supposed to do. Feed on the living, accept the truth for what it is.”

He’s too close for her to answer now, his neck bent down to the point she can nearly taste the blood on his lips.

“Kiss me, dragă mea,” he breathes against her lips, a hand at her hips that she doesn’t care to move. She should hate him, should push him away. But she doesn’t. In fact, Agatha Van Helsing makes no such movement, despite her mind demanding repulsion. 

In a moment, she makes her decision, hunger overtaking her higher functions, and she accepts his lips on hers, hungry as he claims her with a kiss. Her fangs scrape against his bottom lip as she sucks the last of the fresh blood from it and looks up at him after pulling away. 

“Again.” A word that sounds more of a request than a demand, but she obliges him. She kisses him deeply, her hands coming to his cheek and disheveling the neatly organized locks atop his head. Dracula pulls her tighter against him and pushes her up against the stone wall. 

The rocks are cool against her back, adding a contradictory sensation that conflicts with the heat of his mouth and hands as they travel her body. His mouth tastes of blood, surely, but there’s something else that she cannot place that compels her to deepen the kiss. Exploratory in execution, her tongue samples him, delving in and out, running against the slick of his own. 

“What a naughty nun you are,” he purrs as he breaks the kiss, his lips traveling to her jaw. “Shall I punish you?”

[dyns33]

Maybe you could write something like Hawthorne! Michael helping reader through a nightmare?

I have a problem with Hawthorne!Michael. I never know if I want him to have a boyfriend or a girlfriend. I mean, it’s a bit stupid since I mostly write about female reader and for me, Michael is pansexual, so he doesn’t care but this time I didnt want to choose... Great thing that I’m writing in English, because I have the wonderful solution of the “I” !! I don’t really like writing in first person, but it’s pretty damn useful ! So Reader here doesnt have a gender. I hope you will like it, thank you for the request =) !!! 

    I was running again. It had been several nights since I had this nightmare, always the same, again and again. I was in a huge dark, icy forest and something was chasing me. There were shadows between the trees, sometimes I recognized my parents, my friends, Michael, and I called them, I begged them to help me, I screamed for them to intervene, but they did not move, watching me run without reacting. I often have nightmares since I was very young. Michael says that it's because I'm very sensitive, that I absorb the evil that surrounds me during the day and it has repercussions on my nights. It never happens when we are together, I do not know if it's because he fills me with happiness and so nothing horrible happens to me before going to sleep, or if it's because he watches over me during my sleep, driving away bad thoughts with his weird powers. I hate his weird powers. It was because of them that he had to go to this school, underground, and we can not see each other as often as before. Even though he writes to me every day, I miss him. I miss his voice. His touch, his hugs, his kisses. Life without Michael is already very painful, but the nightmares worsen the situation. Is it too much to be able to have one peaceful night's sleep ?

So I was running. It's totally useless, though, because I'm going to run until I wake up, totally exhausted, while I could stop, face the monster and wake up now, to try to get back to sleep and get a little rest. After all, it's just a dream, I know that, I'm used to it now. But these screams scare me. I'm afraid I will not wake up before the thing hurts me. I'm afraid I will not wake up at all. There are people who die in their sleep. I could not see Michael this time. He was not with the others in the forest, he was nowhere to be seen, and I was looking for him desperately.

           "Michael ! Michael !" I screamed, sobbing.

           "I'm here."

In the middle of the road, I ran into him, stopping my escape. The cries of the monster were getting closer, but despite my fright, I could only see Michael, who was holding me by the shoulders. He was beautiful in his uniform. He did not have his cloak, maybe because he knew I liked making fun of him because of that, calling him Dracula and hiding under it, holding his back. With his right hand, with a fluent gesture, he made the forest disappear, transporting us into a white world, empty, without any danger. He had saved me. Even if the dream continued, the horror was over.

           "I missed you so much." I said, taking him in my arms, crying against his neck.

           "I missed you too. Forgive me, I have not slept much these last days... I should have heard you, I should have felt that you needed me."

           "It's alright, I know you're very busy."

We stayed that way for what seemed like an eternity, none of us wanting to let go of the other, when we needed to. Michael had obligations to Hawthorne. I could not replay Sleeping Beauty. And then we would see each other soon, when his school was on vacation. But it was stronger than us.

           "I do not want you to leave." I sobbed. "I do not want to wake up alone."

           "Oh my angel, I'm sorry, I do not want to leave you either."

           "If only I was special... I could come with you, I could teleport, I..."

           "Hey, look at me. You're special. You're unique to me. Don't ever think otherwise, okay ?"

Sadly, I nodded, though I did not approve. I did not have anything special. I still did not understand why someone like Michael Langdon, the Alpha, the Boy Wonder, was interested in me, poor muggle, whose only peculiarity was having nightmares. Even before he knew he had powers, Michael was way too good for me. Without hurting me, he slapped me on the head with a serious look.

           "What did I just say ?"

           "Do not read my thoughts !"

           "So do not think nonsense, dear muggle."

I pulled out my tongue and went to answer him when the white around us began to darken, becoming dull. I was going to wake up soon. No ! I stuck to him, begging him to stay. His huge hands wrapped around me, rocking me tenderly as he rested his head against mine. I woke up, tears running down my cheeks, my body trembling, but without screaming unlike previous nights. Hard to say if it was worse or not.

           "Hot chocolate ?"

Was it still a dream ? Sitting by my side, Michael, two cups in his hand, his lovely smile on his perfect face. I could have cried if this nightmare had not already made all my tears flow.

           "Michael ? You're here ? How ?"

           "You really thought I was going to leave you like this ? I will unfortunately not be able to stay very long or teachers will realize my absence. Here."

As usual, his chocolate was much too sweet, I really had to have a discussion with him about his sugar problem, but the heat the taste was welcome. Familiar. Michael's chocolate. While I sipped the drink, he came near me, brushing my hair and hugging me.

           "I probably could not always come." he said with sadness. "But as soon as possible, if you need me, I'll be there, I promise you."

           "That's nice. But these are just nightmares, it's nothing. I have to learn to control them, to confront them."

           "They're hurting you, so it's not nothing, I don't like it. Maybe there's a spell to stop them completely. I'll ask Ariel."

           "I'd rather fall asleep with you, but that would be great."

My remark made him laugh and he kissed me on the forehead, before telling me he had to leave. He would call me when he could, because he had a lot of lessons today. In order to not make our separations too painful, he did not linger, disappearing in a fraction of a second, making me jump. Even though I knew he was a warlock, I was still not used to seeing him volatilize like that. Maybe he found a solution, because no more nightmares came to haunt me the following nights. Only sweet dreams where we were together. But it was not the same as being really with him, so I waited with impatience for him to return, a little sad to no longer have the excuse of my nightmares for him to run to my rescue.

[straightupstrangetimes]

13 Not-So-Scary Movies to Get You in the Halloween Spirit!

Contributed by Kris Rustic, host of Obscure Anomalies podcast

Halloween is around the corner. Everywhere you look a horror movie is playing. For me, I love it. There is just something about being scared while knowing full well you are safe. But not everyone is into that sort of thing. My wife is one, so I tried to find lists of not-so-scary movies but was having trouble coming up with one, so I decided to write my own.

Please keep in mind, I did try to keep the list more kid and family friendly.

13. HOCUS POCUS

300 years have passed since the Sanderson sisters were executed for practicing dark witchcraft. Returning to life, thanks to a combination of a spell spoken before their demise and the accidental actions of Max, the new-kid-in-town, the sisters have but one night to secure their continuing existence. With the help of his younger sister Dani, his high school crush Allison, and a magical cat, it is up to Max to save the children of Salem.

A must see on any Halloween movie list. Full of light-hearted humour, this film is loved by people of all ages.

Watch it: Amazon Rent or Buy

12. CASPER (1995)

Furious that her late father only willed her his gloomy-looking mansion rather than his millions, Carrigan Crittenden makes a plan to burn the place to the ground. That is, until she finds a map leading to a treasure hidden under the house. But when she enters the rickety mansion to seek her claim, she is frightened away by the mansions ghostly inhabitants. Determined to get her hands on this hidden fortune, Crittenden hires afterlife therapist Dr. James Harvey to exorcise the ghosts from the mansion. Harvey and his daughter Kat move in and soon Kat befriends Casper, the ghost of a young boy, who is “the friendly ghost.” But not so friendly are Casper’s uncles--Stretch, Fatso and Stinkie--who are determined to drive all “fleshies” away. It is up to Harvey and Kat to help the ghosts cross over to the other side.

I may get some flack putting Casper this high up on the list, but hey, to each their own. Casper is a fun little film filled with the right amount of supernatural scares placed inside a package that every age can enjoy.

Watch it: Starz; Amazon Rent or Buy

11. THE WITCHES

While staying at a hotel in England with his grandmother, Helga, young Luke inadvertently spies on a convention of witches. The Grand High Witch reveals a plan to turn all children into mice through a magical formula. When they find that Luke has overheard, the witches test the formula on him. Now, with the help of his grandmother and new friend Bruno Jenkins, Luke the mouse must fight back against the evil witches.

Based on the book of the same name, The Witches is a classic. This may be one of the more frightening films on the list but is still children-friendly. Besides, who doesn’t want to save the world as a mouse.

Watch it: Amazon Rent or Buy

10. THE MONSTER SQUAD

The Monster Squad is a club of friends who idolize the classic monster-movies, especially their non-human stars. One day, Dracula, the Mummy, Frankenstein’s Monster, and other classic horror icons, all of which the club idolize, arrive in town in search of a magic amulet to destroy all the good in the world. It is up to the five friends to save the amulet from destruction and use it to cast the monsters into limbo.

One part The Goonies, one part Ghostbusters, and one part Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein, the Monster Squad is a true cult classic that was way ahead of its time.

Watch for yourself and find out if the “Wolfman has nards.”

Watch it: Amazon Rent or Buy

9. BEETLEJUICE

Adam and Barbara are like every other happily married couple -- who just happen to also be dead! Before they died, Adam and Barbara had spent their vacation to decorate and make the house their own, that is, until the fatal car crash. Unfortunately, a new family is moving in, and not quietly as they make plans to redecorate the house with the help of an interior designer. Adam and Barbara try to scare them out, but end up becoming the main attraction to the money making family. They call upon Beetlejuice to help, but Beetlejuice has more in mind than just helping.

While having a special place in my heart for taking place in Connecticut, Beetlejuice is an all around classic starting Michael Keaton and a young Winona Ryder.

Watch it:: Amazon Rent or Buy

8. PARANORMAN

Norman Babcock has the ability to speak with the dead -- and he often prefers their company to that of the living. Norman learns from his estranged uncle that a centuries-old witch’s curse on their town is real and about to come true -- and only Norman can stop it. When zombies rise from their graves, Norman and his ragtag team must summon all their courage and compassion to the limit to save his fellow townspeople. Taking place in the fictional town of Blithe Hollow, this stop-motion film is a beautiful take on the Salem Witch Trials.

I have to admit, I slept on this movie when it first came out. I had no interest in it at all, but then I watched it and became an instant favourite. The humour is a little more blue for a “children’s” movie, but the lesson learned in the end is valuable for all involved. Did I mention it is also well known for being the first mainstream animated film with an openly gay character?

Watch it: Sadly it is not available for streaming on Amazon, Netflix, or Hulu at this time, due to licensing agreements

7. FRANKENWEENIE

Young Victor Frankenstein is a science nerd and an outsider at school, but he does have one friend, his dog Sparky. Sadly, tragedy strikes, taking Sparky away from Victor. Heartbroken, Victor is given an idea of how to bring Sparky back to life. The experiment is a success and everything goes fine, that is, until his fellow students learn of his secret and use it to resurrect their beloved lost pets. Frankenweenie is a heartwarming tale of a boy and his dog, and the lengths we would go to keep our beloved friend.

I consider Frankenweenie to be the sister movie to ParaNorman. Both are stop motion and came out in the same year. The difference is Frankenweenie takes you back to the classic universal horror icons in a brand-new way. Did I mention it is in black and white and has that classic monster movie feel?

watch it: Rent on Youtube

6. NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS

What happens to the Pumpkin King when he tires of being just that, the King of Halloween. Jack Skellington is bored of the same annual routine of scaring the people of the real world. One day, he stumbles upon Christmastown, full of bright colours and warm spirits, bringing a new lease to Jack’s life. He plots to bring Christmas under his control, only to find that the best-laid plans of mice and skeleton can go awry.

Originally I intended only one movie per director, but I don’t think you can begin to discuss family friendly Halloween without Tim Burton, especially because you cannot have a Halloween list without Nightmare Before Christmas. In all fairness, this is the perfect movie to finish out the year with.

Watch it: Amazon Rent or Buy

5. COCO

Miguel dream of becoming a musician, just like his idol, Ernesto de la Cruz. The problem, his family has a generations-old ban on music. Desperate to prove his talent, Miguel steals Ernesto’s guitar and finds himself in the colourful Land of the Dead. With the help of a charming trickster named Héctor and Miguel’s dog Dante, Miguel must find his way back home, meanwhile learning the truth about his family’s past.

All bite. Coco is a Dia de los Muertos movie. I know some of you will complain that it is not a Halloween movie. Truth is, the spirit of Dia de los Muertos and Halloween are close enough for me to warrant inclusion into the list. The scenery and background is gorgeous, the story will tug at the heartstrings, and you will get to learn a little about the culture behind Dia de los Muertos, even if a bit Disneytized.

Watch it: Netflix

4. HALLOWEENTOWN

On Halloween, while Marnie is arguing with her mother Gwen, the kids’ grandmother Aggie comes to visit. Aggie wants to start Marnie’s witch training before her 13th birthday or Marnie will lose her powers forever. But there is another reason for Aggie’s visit. Something dark and evil is growing in Halloweentown, and Aggie wants help to defeat it. While Aggie and Gwen are arguing, Aggie uses magic, which Marnie observes. After Aggie leaves to return to Halloweentown, Marnie, Dylan and, unknown to Marnie and Dylan, Sophie follow her onto the return bus. Soon afterwards, Gwen follows the children to Halloweentown. While there, Aggie and Gwen are attacked by the dark force. Marnie, Dylan and Sophie have to race to get the ingredients to activate Merlin’s Wand to stop the evil and save Halloweentown.

A classic made for TV Disney movie, this film (and all sequels) are a perfect Halloween movie for all ages, and albeit a little cheesy at times. But who doesn’t love the occasional cheesy movie?

3. SCOOBY DOO AND THE WITCH’S GHOST

When the Master Gang Scooby meet a famous horror writer Ben Ravencroft (who may or may not be based off of Stephen King) during their last mystery, he invites them to his small hometown of Oakhaven, Massachusetts to join in the annual Autumn Fest. Ravencroft tells the Mystery Gang about the history of his ancestor, Sarah Ravencroft, who happened to be an evil witch and is supposedly haunting the town of Oakhaven. The gang decides to help the town and solve the mystery of the Witch’s Ghost.

This was tough to pick. We have Scooby Doo and the Ghoul School, Scooby Doo and Zombie Island, I mean honestly any Scooby Doo movie could fit. But I picked Witch’s Ghost for three simple reasons: takes place during the fall, witches, and the Hex Girls, a fictional all-female Goth Rock Band.

Watch it: Amazon Prime, Boomerang Channel on Amazon

2. MONSTER HOUSE

13-year-old DJ is obsessed with his creepy neighbour, Nebbercracker, and his eerie house. After all, rumours of his past have run rampant in the town. But one day, DJ and his friends witness the house come to life. Unable to find an adult that will believe him, and with Halloween vastly approaching, it is up to DJ and his friends to find a way to destroy the house before innocent trick-or-treaters meet their end.

At times, this film is a little on the frightening side, at least for the younger ones. The characters are well thought out and put together. While the animation is not ground breaking, it looks great and fits the movie perfectly. A perfect film for those looking for a fun, clean movie this Halloween.

Watch it: Amazon Rent or Buy

1. GOOSEBUMPS 2: HAUNTED HALLOWEEN

While collecting junk from an abandoned house, best friends Sonny and Sam come across an unpublished “Goosebumps” book. Opening it, they release Slappy, a mischievous talking dummy. Hoping to start a family, Slappy kidnaps Sonny’s mother and brings fourth all of his ghoulish friends (creatures and monsters from the Goosebumps novels) to life, just in time for Halloween. The sleepy town becomes overrun with monsters, witches, and other mysterious creatures. It is up to Sonny, his sister Sarah, and Sam to save their town, his mother, and foil Slappy’s plans.

Goosebumps (2015) is a pure nostalgia ride with a brand new feel and Goosebumps 2: Haunted Halloween is no different. Trading in some of the humor for a little more horror feel, the movie has a little bit to offer for everyone.

Watch it: Netflix

The truth of the matter is, this list is not perfect and may never be complete, but it is a great starting point to the ever growing list of the Not-So-Scary Halloween movies. I feel in writing this, I have left so many great films off, so I have a list of some runner up films that just barely missed being on my top 13.

RUNNER UPS

HOTEL TRANSYLVANIA

Dracula and the classic horror monsters are afraid of humans. In an attempt to take a vacation away from humanity, Dracula operates a hotel way off in the woods. One day, a brave human makes his way to the castle, where the human and Dracula’s daughter “Zing”.

ADDAMS FAMILY (1991)

A man claiming to be Uncle Fester, the missing brother of Gomez Addams shows up at the Addam’s household. The family is thrilled, however Morticia begins to suspect the man is a fraud as he cannot recall details of Fester’s life. With the help of a lawyer, Fester manages to get the Addams evicted from the home. Can the Addam’s family save Uncle Fester? Can they get their home back?

DOUBLE DOUBLE TOIL AND TROUBLE

The Farmer family is in debt and might lose their house. The Farmer Twins discover the somebody mean and shrewd is responsible for all the family problems. The determined twins try to trick at their evil aunt out of her magic moonstone to save their family home.

THE ADVENTURES OF ICHABOD AND MR. TOAD

Two animated adaptations of classic literature adapted by Disney make up this film, which is the only reason it made the runner up list as Mr. Toad, while good, has nothing to do with Halloween. However, in the “Legend of Sleepy Hollow” the gangly schoolmaster, Ichabod Crane, falls for the beautiful Katrina Van Tassel. Caught in a love triangle with Katrina and Brom Bones, Ichabod fears the local legend of the Headless Horseman. Is the legend more truth than lore?

ALVIN AND THE CHIPMUNKS MEET THE WOLFMAN

Alvin loves monsters and monster movies, though he is terrified of them. Stuck with Werewolves on the mind, he believes his next door neighbour is one. Reluctantly, Simon helps Alvin investigate the neighbour. Meanwhile Theodore is bitten by a strange dog, and finds his inner “inner monster” and starts behaving like a werewolf himself.

Did I miss your favourite Not-So-Scary Halloween movie? Let me know what it is in the comments below.

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Enjoyed this piece of high strangeness? Share it with your world!

[sophia-helix]

Fic Writer Tag Game

tagged by @lodessa

AO3 name: sophiahelix

Fandoms: split because I have a lot

Major

Baseball RPF (33)

Figure Skating RPF (26)

Men’s Hockey RPF (24)

Yuri!!! On Ice (20)

The Office (US) (19)

Mid-level

The X-Files (10)

Buffy the Vampire Slayer (9)

Harry Potter (7)

Sherlock (4)

Angel (4)

A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin (4)

One Offs

The Royal Tenenbaums (3)

Doctor Who (2)

Bones (2)

Killing Eve (2)

The Sandman (comics) (2)

Dracula, Garth Nix’s Old Kingdom, Yentl, Farscape, Wreckers (movie), Black Books, Ugly Betty, Lost, Patrick Rothfuss’s Kingkiller Chronicles, Beauty and the Beast, Lost, It’s a Wonderful Life, Music RPF, Peter Pan, Castle (1)

Number of fics: 178

Fic I spent the most time on: The Dragon Prince and the Winter Swan (YoI, Victor/Yuuri) must have taken the most amount of actual writing time, since it’s my longest, though I think it was only 7-8 months of writing time total.

Fic I spent the least time on: Disregarding prompt ficlets, has to be Get Real, Get Right (Fuckin Right) (Rivenyonce Cuoknowles/Music RPF) since I jammed it out as a treat in less than an hour before the Yuletide archive opened.

Longest fic: The Dragon Prince and the Winter Swan, 121,228

Shortest fic: sew wings to your pigeon toes (Royal Tenenbaums, Richie/Margot), 200 exactly because I’m old school and “double drabble” means something

Most hits: Nobody Raise Your Voices (Sherlock, John/Sherlock), 26,345 (2012 was a good time for that pairing, which hadn’t even been renamed Johnlock yet)

Most kudos: Vox (The Office, Jim/Pam) is apparently up to 1188 and the top of the pairing tag (wtf! I think everyone has discovered the show through Netflix and phone sex is a popular trope)

Most comment threads: Dragon Prince and Winter Swan again, at 148 (the only chaptered WIP I’ve written in a big fandom)

Most bookmarks: Vox, 323 (!!)

Total word count: 1,059,225 words (minus about 18k for a co-written work)

Favourite fic I wrote: Oh, I always hate this question because I’ve been writing fic for literally 20 years now (first story went up when I was 18) and they’re all so different and I like different ones for different reasons. Today I will say And all around us people slept alone with their dreams (It’s a Wonderful Life) because I link it out in RL situations sometimes since it has more universal appeal than most fanfic. (I realized the movie lends itself really well to writing various what-if scenarios for George’s life, like a 5 things.)

Fic you want to rewrite/expand on:

I swear I really, really want to write a Dragon Prince sequel with what happened to Otabek and Yuri (and a look in on Victor and Yuuri too), I just know I will never have the time.

I would also like to rewrite Waves High As Mountains (Hockey RPF/HP fusion, Connor McDavid/Dylan Strome endgame) because the ending is a little rough, and I genuinely do mean to rewrite Where the memory lingers (Baseball RPF) because it doesn’t fully line up with the rest of the ensuing series.

Share a bit of a WIP or a story idea you’re planning on:

yeahhhh I have a quarantine fic going on, shh

Javi washes up the dishes while Yuzu finishes his phone call, for lack of anything better to do. They haven’t even been under quarantine for twenty-four hours yet and he already feels the restless itch of inactivity. Staying occupied inside these four walls is going to be a challenge for someone used to physical exertion, even if it’s just a long walk or kicking a ball around, and it doesn’t help that there’s two of them.

It really doesn’t help when he looks up from the sink to see Yuzu moving into a series of stretches, one arm over his head and his legs spread wide. Yuzu’s facing away from him, towards the windows that overlook downtown Toronto, a series of snow-covered rooftops with the harbor just a faint shining smear on the horizon, and it lets Javi look for longer than he should, lingering. As usual, Yuzu’s clothes are simple and practical and a little baggy, not clinging to him like his warmup gear, but apparently Javi’s brain has been working overtime in the background since last fall because he can’t stop following the lines of Yuzu’s body as he moves through his stretches — side bends, wide squats, toe touches — and settles into jogging in place. It makes his hair bounce, dark and ruffled after his night of sleep but still glossy, and Javi can’t help watching the movement of his shoulders, his gaze like a caress.

He’s still got a dish and towel in his hand when Yuzu reaches down and grabs the hem of his shirt, and they fall to the counter with a clatter when Yuzu starts stripping it over his head.

Tagging @someitems @itstartledme @ghostcat3000 and anyone else who’s up for it.

[darkestdesired]

The Originals

Chapter 1

Summary:Cybele finally meets the Volturi,but what will hapen when a certain Raven haired master turns her entire world upside down?

Warnings:Not many,slight violence for like 2 seconds,Alight angst again for 2 seconds.The next chapter will have more warnings than this one.

Cybele smiled as she tapped her long nails on the carriage door,"My child what has you in such a good mood?" Vladimir asked with a small knowing smile."I am just so excited Father,I am finally meeting the volturi! I have heard many stories from the maids and i can't wait to meet them all." Lucian rolled his eyes."They are dreadful sister,believe me.Just one minute and you will wish to be back in Transylvania." I looked to Vladimir for answers,he took my hand and patted it."Do not worry my child,you will love it there,Aro has informed me there is a lovely library.I am sure you will spend most of your time there." I smiled wider as the anticipation grew.Roberto called through a window in the carriage as we stopped,"We are here my lord." Vladimir nodded."Come along children,let us not keep them waiting." Roberto helped me out after Vladimir but did not bother with Lucian causing him to growl.

As we stepped into the castle Vladimir smiled as he watched my eyes light up,i ran from painting to painting with a face of awe."Father it is beautiful!" I stopped when i heard footsteps coming towards us.Roberto hid me behind him as he glared at the two men.

"Hello lord Dracula,We are your escorts for the evening." Demetri said as both he and Felix bowed.Vladimir nodded his head,"Thank you my sons." Felix looked Roberto up and down as if sizing him up before they both turned and began leading us through the hallways.I held onto Lucians arm as we walked,"They seem nice." He rolled his eyes,"We shall see if you feel the same at the end of our visit dear sister."

Demetri and Felix pushed open the door,the room was completely marble,it was bright compared to the dark colors of our castle in Transylvania. A handsome man with raven hair stood with a grin as soon as we entered,"Ah Lord Dracula,a pleasure to see you again Old friend." Vladimir smiled."I can say the same to you as well Master Aro." I looked down and tucked a curl behind my ear,i felt this strange pull towards Aro that i didn't understand,as if just being in his presence made me feel safe.He offered a short greeting to Lucian and Roberto before turning to me.

"And this must be the daughter you've told me about,Cybele." I looked up into his deep red eyes and it felt as if the universe alligned."Hello master Aro,thank you for allowing me to come.Your home is quite beautiful." Aro stared at me for a second before grinning proudly."You are welcomed here anytime darling,Our doors are always open to you." He said making sure i knew it was offered right to me.

He held out a hand,"May i,Cybele?" I bit my lip as i went to give him my hand,i gasped when Roberto pushed me behind him and growled in Aro's face.Felix was quick to take Aro's place as i tried to pull Roberto away,"Out of my way." Roberto hissed causing Felix to growl.Both Lucian and Caius stood together watching as if this were a suspenseful drama while Marcus and Vladimir watched with expressions of 'These idiotic children'

Felix attacked first throwing Roberto across the room,I watched with wide eyes as Roberto quickly ran at Felix and slammed him into the steps."Enough!" I screamed,lifting my hands Felix and roberto seperated and flew into the air a few feet off the ground."We did not come here to fight Roberto,It was my choice to take Aro's hand!" Roberto struggled."But my Queen Felix sta-" "I do not care who started it! He was merely doing his job in protecting his master,you are both immortal beings not to mention adults.Start acting like it!"

Aro watched me in awe as i let them onto the ground gently,They both collected themselves acting as if they didn't just get scolded.Felix sent a cocky look to Roberto over the fact that i defended him before returning to his post.

Aro was quick to run to my side,"Me belle that was amazing,What is your gift?" I collected myself before smiling at him."Telepathy and Telekenesis,Master Aro." He grinned."My oh my,Two gifts.." He held out his hand."I trust we won't have any interuptions this time?" Roberto merely glared at him but made no further move to attack.I slid mydelicate hand into his larger one,it felt like they were made for eachother.His eyes glossed over and he put his other hand on top of mine in a protective grip,"The things you have seen..." If i were still human i would be a blushing mess because of the look of awe and adoration he was giving me.He smirked as he heard the thoughts of what i was feeling,He patted my hand before letting go and turning to Vladimir.As soon as Aro stepped away i moved to Lucian and Caius's side,Lucian wrapped a protective arm around my shoulders.So many thoughts were rushing through my brain that i felt like my head was going to explode at any minute."What are you feeling sister?" I snapped up to look at him and sent him a forced smile that Cauis believed was real."It's nothing Dearest brother,do not worry." He stared me down."I have known you for a very very long time,you cannot fool me." I bit my lip."I will explain later brother,once we are not in the presence of others." I whispered to him,but sometimes i forget that everyone in that room had the ability to hear a pin drop from a mile away.He didn't want to wait but he nodded knowing i would only close myself off more if he forced me.Vladimir caught the look on my face and the worried glance Lucian gave him."Perhaps we shall call it a night,we have had a long journey and wish to rest." Aro forgot that the original vampires from transylvania slept during the day because they were used to hiding from the sun."yes of course,You're coffins have already been sent to us and placed in your rooms.Felix,will you show our guests to their rooms?" The guard led the way.Aro took my arm gently to stop me,"We are to feed tomorrow at noon,would you like to join us?" I looked at him in surprise."O-Oh..i suppose that would be nice,just wake me when it is time." He grinned and placed a gentle kiss to my hand."Until then me belle." I smiled lovingly at him before Lucian cleared his throat drawing my attention."Come along sister." I glanced at the kings offering a curtsey before running to Lucian who took my hand,he shot Aro a glare before we ran to catch up with the others.

Marcus watched the expression on Aro's face,"You have found your mate brother." Aro hummed."I do believe i have brother." Caius smirked."Lucian and the guard might not let you have her without a fight." Aro chuckled."Then a fight they will have brothers,she will be my queen no matter the cost."

Vladimir and Roberto were already in their rooms when we arrived,Felix waited in the halls for us."Go on to bed Lucian,i shall see you tomorrow night." He placed a kiss to my cheek and a warning glare to the guard before going into his room.I smiled at the guard,"My deepest apologies for Roberto,Felix.He can be overprotective even when he needn't be." Felix smiled down at me."Do not fret my queen,he does not intimidate me.I giggled when i heard a growl from Robertos room,"Even so,The masters should feel honored to have such a loyal,brave and strong guard." I could see Felix's chest puff up at the praise."Thank you my Queen it is a gift to hear such praise from you." I smiled and patted his arm."If things do not work out here or if you ever need help with anything or even have a question do not hesitate to ask me,My dear.And please,call me Cybele." He smiled."I will keep that in mind my que-Cybele.You should rest now,the sun will be out soon." I nodded and placed a kiss on his cheek."Goodnight Felix." Felix hummed."Goodnight Cybele." Shutting the door behind me i looked around the dark room,it felt like home.

I smiled as i saw my coffin in the center of the room,I laid down inside before shutting the top and drifting of to dreams filled with Raven haired masters.