#my favorite guy !! he's a vampire here !! idk how well i implied that !!

[playername-player-of-games]

Cleo strides across the deck to the gangway where Lizzie is waiting for her, gripping the straps of her bag. The sun is rising, the sky and the sea the same color as Lizzie's hair and cheeks, her expression set and determined.

"Hello, trinket," Cleo greets, towering over her.

Lizzie straightens her back, chest puffing out a little more. She frowns up at Cleo, "You're the one looking after me today?"

"I am."

"Good."

Lizzie seizes her wrist and starts down the gangway. Cleo stumbles after her, startled into laughing and nearly losing her hat. She manages to catch herself before she can fall into the water, and falls into step beside Lizzie.

"Alright," she says, amused, fixing her hat, "where are we going?"

Lizzie drops her hand, her face a light, dusty red, "you'll see."

They step onto port and Cleo checks behind them to make sure someone's still there to babysit- she spots Grian and Scar chatting on the rigging, good- and follows Lizzie to wherever it is they're going.

Past all the busy ship hands and reloading cargo, out of the port and into the town proper, down cobblestone paths and past old brick buildings. It's a shopping district of sorts, and Lizzie looks just as determined as she did on the ship, though has the air of someone who is desperately lost.

"What are you looking for?" Cleo asks.

Lizzie does not answer, instead perking up at one shop sign and taking Cleo's hand again.

It's a white building with a deepslate tile roof. A bell dings as they step inside. Lizzie releases Cleo's hand, approaching the counter, while Cleo stays by the door.

"Just a minute!" comes a shout from another room.

It's a cozy interior, packed with shelves upon shelves of magical trinkets- she spots dragon statues and crystal balls, belts, armor pieces, loose bits of cloth. There's black curtains around the windows, letting in the natural light as the sun continues to rise, and fading fairy lights strung about the ceiling. Lizzie is looking down at a glass counter full of jewelry, tracing her fingers lightly over the top.

There's a crash and a yelp, a hurried "I'm fine! No problems here!" before a man comes bustling into the room, his face round and freckled, his hair orange, and his eyes a bright, friendly blue.

"Hi!" he beams. There's something strapped to his back- black wood and red cloth, clattering together as he hurries to put a box down behind the counter.

He straightens, rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt and stepping over to be across from Lizzie, "you've caught us just before we close for the night! What can I do for the two of you?"

"I'm hoping to get something for me and my captain," Lizzie answers, "I think jewelry, maybe?"

"Of course!" the man presents the counter with one hand, "take your pick."

Cleo raises an eyebrow, caught on something the man said, "you close at dawn?"

The man winces, "yeah, well, they'd only let me have the space at night so we're making due with what we have."

Cleo frowns. Lizzie points to something in the case and asks him about it.

He directs his smile back to Lizzie, easily rambling about practically everything in the case. A pair of bracelets that let you read each other's thoughts. Rings with the power of fire and ice, one keeps you warm and the other cools you down, no matter the weather.

"This here's a disguising bandana!" the man demonstrates by tying it around his own head- his skin turns more green and his ears grow longer and pointier, "perfect for traveling pirates!"

"Not what I'm looking for," Lizzie says. She scans the counter again, pointing out something else in the case, "what about these?"

"Teleportation rings!" he provides, whisking off the bandana and smiling again as he explains the enchantments- this time Cleo notices how sharp his teeth are- this man has fangs. Cleo folds her arms, keeping one hand close to her sword, and leans back on the doorframe.

"No I'm-" Lizzie sighs, offering a sheepish smile, "I'm sorry about all the questions, I just want this to be perfect."

"No worries!" he returns, "I'll close up after we're done, it's no trouble."

"How about these?"

"Earrings that let you hear each other's heartbeats."

Lizzie's eyes widen.

"Bad choice, trinket," Cleo pipes up, "I don't have a heartbeat."

Lizzie waves her off and hurries to open her bag, "how much?"

The man offers a price- surprisingly reasonable- and Lizzie hands over the gold in exchange for two simple, golden hoop earrings.

"Thank you," Lizzie says, and returns to Cleo's side.

"Did you miss the part where I don't have a heartbeat?"

"Don't worry," Lizzie waves one of them in Cleo's face, "if your heart ever starts beating again I'll come back and kill you myself."

Cleo laughs, pushing off the wall, "thank you, dearest trinket, I'll be sure to remember that."

She smiles. There's a clattering and a rushed, "ah- don't go! I have to help you guys attune to those."

Cleo follows Lizzie back to the counter. The man beams at them again, all fangs and freckles, "put the earrings on and hold hands."

Putting the earring on is easy- Cleo swaps out one of her old ones easily. Lizzie laces their fingers together and gives a squeeze. Cleo squeezes back, a little harder.

"Okay, now," he wraps his hands around theirs and begins murmuring to himself, a spell of some sort, his eyes glowing a slight red. The magic is warm, comforting, spreads up Cleo's arm, shoulder, into her neck and splitting off to her chest and her ear, and-

A slight, phantom hearbeat begins to thump lightly in her ear. It's a little too fast. She smiles.

He pulls away, the warmth evaporating as his eyes fade back to blue.

"And there you go!" he offers one last dazzling smile, "thanks for coming in, you two."

Lizzie reaches up to feel her new earring, her heart still a little too fast, "I-I'll hear something if my captain ever gets her heartbeat back, won't I?"

"Yep!" he says, "so long as it's attuned to your captain it'll let you hear their heartbeat."

Lizzie sighs, looking relieved, "thank you."

"No problem!" he waves as they go to leave, "come back anytime!"

[bilgisticallykosher]

They'll Never Take Me Alive Because I'm Already Dead

Chapter one: And the nice thing about a stake through the heart was that it also worked on non-vampires.

Title comes from this Ice Nine Kills song (warning for blood and cursing), talk to me about INK, how about that new album, guys!!! Obsessed. Anyway, chapter title from Going Postal by Terry Pratchett.

(Title in Docs was "CAUSE MY MONSTERS WERE REAL!" Which is from this song from Shinedown. Great album, but not my favorite song, talk to me, I'll rec better songs. (Warning for death? And bad home life??? Idk I didn't really watch the video.)

Words: 3,355 

Warnings: Fantastical racism, it is heavily implied that Roman suspects some form of abuse is happening, but it's not explicitly said. 

This chapter is fairly light, but overall this fic will be darker than my usual fare.

Masterpost | My Discord | AO3

BIAD Masterpost | Next Chapter

-----

Roman Sanders stalked through the streets, keeping to the shadows. He knew that was, in fact, where those who he was hunting would also stay, but it was still the most effective way to get around unseen. Especially since it was mid-afternoon. 

This may have seemed counter-intuitive, but Roman wasn't actively hunting right now. At least, not yet. No, right now he was on a mission of reconnaissance. He had gotten wind of a monster of some sort living in this neighborhood. He never heard what the creature was, or much else, just that they had been… around. That was the trouble with relying on word-of-mouth, but it was all he had, really. Often times it was usually just people being paranoid, but fact of the matter was that there had been more than one testament of a monster around here, with some manner of consistency, although the descriptions varied. Which meant, Roman had to figure out what it was in order to defeat it. Some manner of shape shifting beast probably, which didn't necessarily narrow it down, when it came to monsters. 

Society had been shocked three decades ago when all those tall tales of monsters, and creatures that lurked in the night had turned out to be real. Apparently, they'd been around for centuries, but only took to revealing themselves fairly recently. Mostly, the reaction had been outwardly positive, Roman remembered as he crept around to the back of a house. Some people had been secretly scared of them, yes, but there hadn't been all that much outcry against them. 

Well, not in public, anyway. 

There were plenty of sources available for how to protect yourself against or 'supernatural beings,' or 'supes,' or whatever they called themselves, and how to treat them, some of what to expect, cultural things, (ha! As if these monsters had culture); all informational stuff, which Roman had looked at in order to prepare himself. He steered clear of those places that seemed to idealize the monsters, fawning over them. Roman shuddered just thinking about it, stepping behind a particularly thick shrub. 

But, if you knew where to look, smatterings of online communities that told of how to actually take care of them. In a more permanent manner. Roman tapped his fingers on his dagger, stake, and the variety of other items, including a lot of silver, in his pockets that he'd gone through over and over before he'd left. Just in case, he thought again to himself. The silver should take care of most monsters, and if silver didn't work, the stake and dagger didn't need to be silver to work on the other kinds. He nodded to himself. It definitely wasn't the first time he'd done this. Well, at least this part. 

The truth was, he'd never actually faced a monster. Not in combat. Not like he hadn't wanted to. Every other lead he'd gotten had been a dead end. Or, as Roman supposed, creeping around a set of garbage pails, peering around the corner of the house, an undead end. Ha!

Wait, no, that would mean it wasn't an undead end, because they'd turned out to not be a monster. Of course, the joke could still stand, just because he'd been looking for them, even if it hadn't panned out. Although, that brought up the question of whether or not it was an end, anyway, it was really more of a series of beginnings-

"May I help you?"

"GAAAIIII'M FINE!" Roman had been so caught up in his head that he hadn't even noticed the person standing at the doorway, garbage bag in hand. He cleared his throat to try and hide the flush that was rising on his cheeks. "I mean, that's alright, I don't need any assistance, thank you." The person at the door tilted their head. 

"Are you sure, kiddo? You're crouching behind my trash can." They raised their eyebrow, smiling slightly, not looking mad or even annoyed at all. 

"Of course! I'm just," he hesitated slightly, he didn't want to reveal too much, "stretching." He haphazardly started putting his leg out, bending over it, still crouched. This was…not his best idea. 

"Mhmm." They had both eyebrows raised now, their smile looking more like they were trying not to laugh. "Yes, I can see that."

"I'm in the middle of a rather intense game of hide and seek!" Roman insisted, bringing his leg back in. That much was true, at least. Just that the hiders weren't aware that he was seeking. 

"Will it disturb your game if I throw out my garbage?" They held the bag out, giving it a little shake. Roman quickly got up, standing back, gesturing at the pail. 

"No, of course!" They smiled, walking down the small stairs. Roman looked around. He was standing out in full view, maybe he should call this a loss, and come back later? Maybe in disguise. 

"My name's Patton! He/him." Roman looked up to see him tossing the garbage bag in before closing it up again. "I'd let you shake my hand, but it's sort of full of garbage. E-heh!" 

"I'm Roman," Roman smiled, taking a bow. "And it's a pleasure to meet your acquaintance!"

"Well," Patton started, grin growing wide, "I know you're roamin' around my garbage, kiddo!" He laughed, and Roman couldn't help but join him, chuckling. Patton looked at him, still smiling. "It's nice to meet you, too, Roman! If there's anything you need, my house is a pretty good hiding spot?" He jerked his thumb back towards the door. 

Patton turned back, slowly going up the steps. Roman considered. Patton had been nice. Quite frankly, he was a little shocked that he hadn't called the cops, or threatened him in any manner. Roman wasn't exactly sure why he trusted him so much, but he was very likable. Both in personality and in face. He seemed very bubbly, but perhaps the type of person who feared monsters? It must have been his innate desire to protect the innocent. 

"Um!" He called out, and Patton immediately turned around. "I'm not exactly sure if it's legal in hide and seek to go into somebody's house, but maybe I'll take you up on that offer?" Patton beamed.

"Sure! Come on in!" He held open the door. "After you!"

"Thank you!" Roman nodded, smiling back, trotting up the stairs and into his house, and right into what appeared to be the kitchen. He stood, hands clasped behind his back as he idly surveyed the room, eyes going immediately to a box of dog biscuits on the counter, and a dog bowl on the floor. 

His smile widened into a toothy grin, looking at Patton as he washed his hands in the sink after closing the door. "Do you have a dog?!" His hands came in front of him, clenched in excited fists. He found himself bouncing in place a little.

Patton laughed, although it didn't sound mocking; his eyes were crinkled at the corners. 

"Nope, sorry, kiddo. We kind of only have a dog sometimes."

"Ah," Roman nodded. "I used to dogsit, too."

"Mm. So, what'd you wanna talk about?" He cocked his head to the side. Roman composed himself. 

"Well, I have a confession." Roman rolled his shoulders back. "I'm, not exactly playing hide and seek." 

"No," Patton put two hands over his mouth as he gasped, which also worked to hide his smile.

"Yes," Roman couldn't help himself, he leaned down, keeping his voice at a stage-whisper. "As a matter of fact, I'm on a mission to gather information." 

"Well that sounds pretty serious," his smile shifted a little as he took his hands away from his face. "Maybe we should talk about it over a cup of hot chocolate. What do you say?" He went to reach into his cabinet, presumably for the chocolate.

"Oh," Roman began, "I couldn't possibly impose more than I already am."

"If you're sure," Patton turned around and shrugged, the gesture big as he glanced at Roman out of the side of his eye. "I was going to have some anyway, although too much chocolate hurts my tummy, and I just have so much coco here." He took out the canister, giving it a little shake.

Dear lord, he actually said the word 'tummy' out loud. Roman almost hoped that he was wrong about the monster being near; Patton would get eaten alive. Roman played off the shudder that went through his body by adjusting his belt, and then put his palm on his chest. 

"Well, when you put it that way, it would be an honor to help you out." He grinned again, silently reaffirming to himself why he was trying to track down monsters to begin with. Patton sent another smile his way, gesturing to the table in the room. 

"Go ahead and have a seat!" He placed the coco on the counter, grabbing out a white mug, before hesitating, and put his hand on his chin in thought. "I guess that should be okay…" he mumbled to himself.  Roman took this time to pull out a chair and sit. He continued to look around the room while waiting, occasionally looking back at Patton, who had taken out another mug, which was darker than the first.

Roman idly tapped his finger against the tabletop as he watched him take out spoons, and then walk over to a metal plugged in pot. He didn't know what it was, and when Patton turned around to grab spoons from the drawer, he must have seen his expression, because he explained himself. 

"It's a hot water pot!" He started doling out powder into the mugs as he spoke. "My," There was an almost unnoticeable pause, "roommates come home from work soon, and they like to have hot water ready for tea, or coco, or coffee, or whatever." He tilted the pot into the dark mug, mixing in the water with a spoon. 

Roman felt that he was intruding upon something, somehow, but Patton just did the same in the white mug before getting something else from the original cabinet, and doing something that Roman couldn't quite see. He nodded showing that he was following, but the funny feeling remained

When Patton returned to the table he placed the dark mug, as well as a napkin in front of Roman, and took a seat with his own white one. Roman's eyes locked onto the mug he was given immediately, and his eyes light up. 

"Jack Skellington? I love Nightmare!" He turned it around to get a better look at it; it had Oogie on it, too. He looked up at Patton again, a little more subdued, "Actually, I love all Disney, and I keep a special place in my heart for every one of my precious babies."

Patton barked out a laugh at that, and Roman squinted to look at his mug. It was, indeed white, but now he could see little paw prints patterned all over it. And, right in the middle, the words "MY DAY IS RUFF BEFORE COFFEE" were displayed prominently. And now it was Roman's turn to let out a laugh. "Very nice."

"Wait, it's got a back!" And Patton turned it, carefully, around, and sure enough on the other side he could see "MY PURRFECT CUP" written. He chuckled at that one, too, before finally looking down at the napkin. There were two marshmallows on it. 

"Oh, how thoughtful." He noticed that Patton had placed one inside of his own mug, so it wasn't like he had gone out of his way, necessarily, but gosh he was just being so nice, and his grin just grew. "Thank you," he said sincerely, placing one of them in his cocoa. 

"Not a problem!" His grin faltered a little. "Actually, I'm kinda used to setting it up that way for V; that's his mug you're using." He started to idly swirl his drink with the spoon. "That's how he likes to drink it." He seemed more reserved suddenly, his nervousness evident. 

This was, well, he couldn't necessarily say this was out of character. He had only known Patton for such a small amount of time. It seemed silly. And yet. 

"Well, I hope that he won't mind me borrowing his delightful Disney drink-holder." Roman watched Patton carefully as his smile reappeared in full force again. It seemed strained. 

"Oh no," Patton insisted, stopping his stirring and putting his hands up, placating. Almost as though he was used to attempting to prevent an argument. "He won't mind, he's just," he paused, looking up, as though the molding had the answer that he was looking for. "Um. Shy? Around new people?" He took a sip. 

"You sound very certain about that." Roman was here for a purpose, true, but that didn't mean he ever stopped being a gentleman. That didn't mean that he stopped trying to protect the innocent in any manner that might call for. This 'V' was starting to concern him. 

"No, I swear, he's great; they both are." Patton smiled for real this time, softer than his usual grin. "He really does just have some problems with talking to new people." Roman nodded, accepting the explanation, but still hypervigilant as always, and finally taking a sip of his own. 

"Delicious!" He smiled at him, genuine compliment falling easily from his lips. "Truly you've outdone yourself!"

"Thank you!" Patton's full grin was back, "but aw, shucks, it was nothing!" And his reaction seemed genuine back. Not like he was unused to compliments, at least. Hm. Roman took another sip as Patton relaxed his head in his hands. "So, what were you trying to find out?" Roman swallowed as he considered his phrasing. 

He certainly didn't want to alarm Patton unduly, but he did want to stress how important it was to find the monster out. And also how dangerous it was to have it near this very house. He would need to exert caution, that's for sure, and to be wary of everyone. He exhaled. 

"Well, I was wondering, if you had seen anything," he gestured his hands forward, "unusual lately?" He mentally winced at how clichè that sounded. "I mean, around this neighborhood, specifically. Moreso than usual?"

"Hmm," Patton seemed to consider this seriously, "we've really only been here for half a year, Roman."

"Oh, well that's perfect!" Roman splayed his fingers apart earnestly. "I've only heard word start to spread about it for the past few months!" Patton took another sip, staring at the liquid in the mug, smile flickering down before he pulled it right back up. This took Roman aback so much that he had to take another drink to cover up his flinch. Alarm bells were ringing in his head. Maybe… maybe this 'V' character was even more insidious than he'd originally thought. Perhaps… he was doing something illegal that Patton was uncomfortable with? 

"Unusual how?" He looked at Roman right in the eyes. Luckily, Roman's years of theater practice meant that he could stare back without it becoming awkward. Apparently Patton didn't hold that same experience, soon thereafter turning away with a small laugh. Roman inhaled, exhaled, and contemplated his phrasing, head titled as though drawing his words from a teleprompter. 

"Oh, anything at all, really. Anything that would make you uncomfortable." Patton didn't react at all to that. Damn. Well, he might as well ask about his original quest, keeping an ear open about 'V'. "Perhaps noises in the middle of the night, untoward smells from anywhere, shadows that don't quite match up," he turned slightly in order to glance at Patton out of the corner of his eyes. "Maybe someone entering a house without sign that they've left again?" Now Patton reacted visually to the last one, cringing at what Roman was implying. He awkwardly turned it into a chuckle, rubbing the back of his head. 

"That's maybe a little hard to tell, Roman." He exhaled, locking onto his gaze again. "Do you really think that's a concern for whoever you're looking to- I mean, you're looking for supernaturals, right?"

Roman was a little shocked that he picked up what his goal was. He hadn't been overly subtle, sure, but he hadn't been overtly frank, either. (Of course, he wasn't Frank, he was Roman.) He nodded, once, eyes wide and excited, listening closely.

Patton nodded back. "So, you are trying to find supernaturals?" Roman nodded more vigorously. "May I ask why?"

"I," he gulped, "believe there's reason to be cautious." He wasn't sure how much to reveal to him. He called them by the societally acceptable name, but he maybe he could get him to understand how important it was to be careful. "I know there's all the laws, but they're not perfect. I just," he caught his gaze again, making sure he understood this, "want to make sure that people are protected. In whatever way I can." 

"Mm…" he seemed unsettled, still. "You're doing it all by yourself?" He swirled the liquid in his mug that he was still holding. "You don't, have anyone waiting for you in case you get hurt or anything?" Roman's heart melted. It seemed Patton was just worried about him being hurt, himself. What a sweet guy. 

"Well," he smiled, "this is just the evidence gathering part." He flipped his hand, gesticulating, "once I find some, I'll probably tell a few," he wiggled his fingers as chose his words carefully; Patton was clearly a sensitive soul, "people who are more experienced in this matter," he settled on. "Who will know how to handle any... dangerous situations."

They stared at each other for a moment, when Patton's eyes widened, and flicked away for a moment, before he grinned, tooth-filled and cheeks tight. 

"Well, gee, that sounds like a great plan to me!" Roman blinked, bringing his head back an inch from how suddenly loud Patton was. Roman smiled, lopsided. 

"Oh, thank you, I-" 

"In fact, you probably should get started on that right now!" Patton stood up suddenly, chair screeching behind him. Roman frowned nervously. 

"Um," he fiddled with the handle of his mug. "Do you want me to help clean up?" He raised an eyebrow, what just happened? He didn't think he'd said anything offensive. 

"Nope, don't worry about it!" He grabbed his own hot chocolate quickly, sloshing a few drops over the side. Some of it got on his hand, but he only flinched a little, extra wide smile barely faltering. "I've got everything covered here! You just go along and figh- protect people!" He came around and slid Roman's chair out from the table. "After you!" 

"But, I was just supposed to be finding out information?" Roman's frown deepened as he turned to look at him. "And, you didn't even really tell me anything?" Patton laughed nervously, and he continued to slide his chair towards the door. He was… doing that with one hand. 

"Whoops, guess I forgot! Well, good luck supernaturaling people! I mean protecting fights!" He wasn't making any sense. And he was becoming increasingly distraught, and it all seemed to happen out of nowhere. 

Something was wrong. 

Roman frowned and stood up, throwing Patton off-balance momentarily before he clutched the chair closer to himself.

"Now wait just a moment, Patton!" He noticed his smile drop a bit. He put his hands on his hips. "What on Earth is going on here?!" 

"Um, you're very inspiring?" Roman took a step closer, arms stretched out, stopping short of grabbing his shoulders. 

"While that is true, I think we both know that that's not the reason you're acting like this so suddenly. Now I know that we just met, but I'd like to help you! Roman took another step forward, and Patton gulped. "But I'm going to need you to tell me the truth!"

And that's when the door slammed open. 

-----

Happy Halloween. :)

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[hermannsthumb]

Idk if you doing requests or not rn buut, feriowind has been posting a bunch of vampire!Hermann and I needs some modern vampire Hermann and professor Newt...

uwu ily

SO I feel like I should open by saying a WIP fic with this concept by @coloredpencilroses exists and I Love it, so read High Stakes for something much better than this lol (and leave a nice comment). HAPPY OCTOBER!!!! warning for very mildly implied sexy stuff. EDIT: and of COURSE I forgot to tag @theloccent for my extremely belated fill for the “Vampire” square on my bingo card :/

-----------------------

Newt has always been an extremely persistent type. He considers it, naturally, one his greatest strengths—no theory goes untested, no question goes unanswered, no experiment goes…well, unexperimented. You don’t get more PhDs than you can count on one hand if you’re not persistent. You don’t get a date with the hot new engineering professor down the hall if you’re not persistent, either, but Newt is finding this venture is taking a little more effort than usual. That’s fine, though. He likes challenges.

Dr. Gottlieb was hired by the university at the start of the semester, after the head of the engineering department—who’s nearing her seventies—finally decided she’d had enough and announced her retirement somewhat last minute. He is, frankly, unlike anyone Newt’s ever seen before, a weird combination of cheekbones, wide lips, and a turn-of-the-century old-fashioned air that carries over into everything from his wardrobe to the stiff way he carries himself. He wouldn’t look out of place in a black and white photograph, Newt thinks. Or maybe even the illustrations of a Dickens novel. That’s not why Newt’s into him, though—well, not the only reason why.

In the entire month and a half Gottlieb’s been here, he hasn’t spoken a single word to anyone his contract doesn’t require him to; when he is forced into conversation, he scowls and snaps and mumbles his way through before making a polite excuse as to why he needs to leave the room right now, immediately. No one knows anything about him other than the bare minimum—that his name is Dr. Gottlieb, he lectures in engineering, and he exists. Shit, Newt doesn’t even know his first name. The little plaque outside his office just says Gottlieb.

The mystery just makes Gottlieb all the more alluring to Newt.

Anyway, his continued failures in winning Gottlieb over aren’t a result of a lack of trying. On Gottlieb’s first day, Newt stopped by his office to introduce himself. He didn’t bother knocking. Maybe that was his first mistake. “I’m Newt,” he said. “My office is a few doors down from you. You’re the new department head?”

Gottlieb looked stricken, but he nodded. “Yes,” he said. He didn’t say anything else.

“Cool,” Newt said. “Anyway, I’m technically in the bio department, but I teach a few interdisciplinary courses with engineering, so I requested they stick me over here to get a bigger office.” He cracked a grin. “I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

“Hm,” Gottlieb said.

Newt tried again the next day.

“Your office is so dark,” he said, conversationally, because it was—lights all off, books stacked up everywhere, maroon drapes drawn tightly in front of the single small window. Dark and stuffy. “Feel free to stop by my office whenever you want a break from it. I have a corner one, so I have two windows.”

“I requested this office,” Gottlieb said, not looking up the article he was marking up.

Newt became desperate by his third attempt and did something that’s left him burning with shame even now, weeks later, and that would probably warrant the immediate transfers of sleep-deprived engineering majors out of all his courses if word ever got out it was him: he deliberately broke the department coffee machine. “Man, I can’t believe that thing is busted again,” he declared to Gottlieb. “Good thing I have a Keurig in my office.” Newt had gone out and purchased a Keurig immediately before destroying the coffee pot. “Seriously, come by whenever you need caffeine.”

Gottlieb blinked at him, long and slow, and Newt had the strangest sense that he knew exactly what happened to the coffee pot. “I never drink… coffee,” Gottlieb finally said.

For all Newt’s troubles, the list of things he knows about Gottlieb has expanded by two pitiful points: that his accent is English and posh, and his voice is low and sexy. Helpful.

It’s a chilly day in late October when Newt finally decides to enlist the aid of his interdisciplinary undergrads. Some of them—he learned after poking around their registration records—have a seminar with Gottlieb, and they seem his best bet at learning anything. A spouse—a first name—Newt would take Gottlieb’s favorite color, even. “So,” he starts class, unwinding his scarf off his neck, “that Dr. Gottlieb sure is weird, huh?”

In Newt’s firsthand experience, undergrads love to gossip about their professors, and his certainly don’t disappoint. Gottlieb’s classes are all held in the basement of the engineering building. All run well into the evening, after the sun’s set—most not finished until nine—and Gottlieb hustles out of the lecture hall the moment he can. He walks with a cane and a slight limp. He always dresses like that. He’s never mentioned any sort of family, and wears no wedding ring. He’s scary good at math. No one knows his first name.

“You’ve been an invaluable help,” Newt tells them all seriously.

He mulls the new information over in his office later as he grades some tests. So Gottlieb is a bit of shy, reclusive, genius. No surprise there. Well, his apparent hatred of sunlight is kind of weird (if unsurprising, given how pale he is) but maybe he just has sensitive eyes or something. Who is Newt to judge? At least he knows how to improve his next plan of attack—he just has to ask the guy to come over and sit in a dark room in silence with him. That’s probably Gottlieb’s dream date, actually.

There’s a knock on Newt’s office door. Newt looks up and drops his pen: it’s Gottlieb.

“Uh. Hey, dude!” he squeaks, unsure of how to proceed in this entirely unfamiliar territory. Gottlieb, willingly interacting with him? Willingly leaving his office? “Is there…can I help you with something? Did you want that coffee after all?”

“Most definitely not,” Gottlieb says coolly. He’s standing far enough back from the door that not a single sliver of lamp light from Newt’s office hits him, instead shrouded by the shadows of the dark engineering department. Newt didn’t realize how late it had gotten. “My students informed me that you were interrogating them about me.”

It’s not a question. Newt is struck by a wave of nervousness that he doesn’t quite understand—maybe it’s the sour expression Gottlieb is giving him, something in those dark brown eyes that are piercing through Newt. He feels, foolishly and briefly, like cowering under his desk. He swallows. “Yes,” he says, and adds, stammering, “I mean—I wasn’t interrogating them. I was just asking a few questions.”

“Why?” Gottlieb says.

“Uh,” Newt says. “I guess I was…curious, about you?”

He works up the guts to look Gottlieb in the eyes; he sees Gottlieb’s eyebrows jump the tiniest fraction of an inch. “You’re attracted to me,” Gottlieb says, another non-question, though Newt hears a flicker of surprise.

“Yeah,” Newt admits.

“I see,” Gottlieb says. Then, to Newt’s surprise, he suddenly smiles. “I’d like if you invited me over for dinner, Dr. Geiszler.”

“Dinner,” Newt says. He feels strangely dizzy; but, shaking himself, he quickly gets over it. “I mean, dinner! Yes! Shit! When?”

“Tonight, I should think,” Hermann says.

Tonight is Friday, which means they don’t have work tomorrow. By the time they make it off campus it’ll be almost ten—way later than people eat dinner—and besides, Newt already had a sandwich at around seven. Is dinner a euphemism? Is Gottlieb propositioning him? God, why didn’t he wash his sheets with the laundry this week? “Tonight,” Newt says. He stands up abruptly and grabs his leather jacket with trembling fingers. Why is he trembling? Nerves, he guesses. He’s about to hook up with total hottie Dr. Gottlieb, he’s allowed to be nervous. “Fuck yes. Let’s go now.”

Gottlieb is not impressed with the messy state of Newt’s apartment, and even less impressed with the state of Newt’s refrigerator and freezer. “Dinosaur chicken nuggets and canned Lime-A-Ritas,” he says with a sniff. “Hm. You ought to be getting more vitamins, Dr. Geiszler. I’m certain you’re deficient in something.”

“You sound like my dad,” Newt snorts. He throws his car keys on the counter and shrugs off his jacket. “There’s some leftover Chinese on the second shelf if you want it—just some lo mein. Or I could put a frozen pizza in the oven. Or I guess we could order something too?”

Gottlieb shuts the fridge door delicately. “How kind of you to offer,” he says. He doesn’t sound like he means it. Newt is suddenly struck by how bizarre a sight he is in the midst of Newt’s chaotic kitchen: buttoned up to the throat with his stupid shirt and blazer, prodding at the fraying lime lizard-shaped rug by the sink with the end of his ornately-handled cane. Out of time and out of place. 

“It’s Newt,” Newt says. “Please don’t call me Dr. Geiszler, it makes me feel ancient.”

“Hm,” Gottlieb says.

“And what,” Newt says, deciding to test his luck a little, “uh—what should I call you?”

Gottlieb considers him. “Hermann,” he says.

The name rings a bell in the back of Newt’s head. He swears he’s heard it somewhere before—an article, maybe. A book. Has he stumbled across Dr. Gottlieb’s research before without even realizing it? He’s on the verge of asking what publications Gottlieb’s been featured in when Gottlieb suddenly snags hold of his hand; then, raising it to his mouth, he kisses it. His lips are as cold as his skin. “Would you like to show me to your quarters, Newton?” he murmurs.

Newt shivers; he nods.

“Hermann Gottlieb,” Newt says aloud later, while Hermann redresses himself. “Now I know where I’ve heard that name before.”

“Yes?” Hermann says. He’s lacing up one of his Oxfords.

“I worked with his research in one of my dissertations,” Newt says. “Another Dr. Hermann Gottlieb, I mean. He was a brilliant mathematician from—God, 1830-something. German. His work was groundbreaking for the time, or shit, for our time, too.” He remembers seeing a portrait of that Hermann Gottlieb in one of his sources; the whole of the similarities between him and Newt’s Hermann Gottlieb (the dark eyes, the mouth, the cheekbones) are a little too much to be entirely coincidental. “You must be related to him, right? Like, he’s your great-great-great—”

“Yes,” Hermann cuts him off quickly. He turns to Newt and smiles. “A distant ancestor, certainly. I believe you are the first in some time to have made that connection.”

“Always thought he was cool,” Newt yawns. “Man, I’m tired.” The romp with Hermann had been fun, if not unexpectedly exhausting, and a little…out of the ordinary. The dude apparently has some sort of weird biting kink that left Newt’s neck stinging a little bit, but it’s cool, Newt doesn’t mind. It was like boning a vampire or something. Kinda hot. “Do you need me to show you to the door, or can I just stay here? I’m serious about spending the night though. I really don’t mind.”

Hermann fiddles with the laces of his other shoe, then, slowly, draws the whole thing back off. “If it’s not an imposition,” he says, and smiles again, shyly. “Though, I warn you—I’m a bit of a late sleeper.”

“Good, so I am,” Newt says. “Could you toss me the sweatshirt hanging on that chair? You can grab one for yourself too, if you’re cold, I’ve got another hanging in the closet. No, not--yeah, that door.”

They dip under the covers and get cozy, Newt taking on the task of big spoon, because Hermann is a cold sonofabitch and could use a little insulation. The last thought on his mind before he drifts off to a comfortable sleep is how strange it is he can’t feel Hermann’s heartbeat—though, he realizes, it’s probably just muffled by their clothing.

[deancanmarryme]

Okay, so the shock of the ending is kind of setting in and as (from my username) you can tell that I’m a huge fan of Dean Winchester. He’s an amazing character who has went through amazing character development over the years and let me tell you that the writers RUINED that. Dean Winchester deserved so much better. He WANTED so much better. Dean was a suicidal character, he hated himself and always thought he was going to die on a hunt, but he also fought. He fought for our world, he fought his own head, and he won dude. You cannot convince me Dean Winchester did not adore life. The way he hugged Miracle. The way he loved his kitchen. The way he loved driving baby. He saw light at the end of that tunnel and they robbed him from that, they took away that development and killed him on a mediocre vampire hunt and I will never forgive them for that. Dean Winchester deserved better.

Castiel sacrificed himself for the Winchesters countless times. He rebelled against heaven for Dean. It makes sense hed die for Dean Winchester, but to be sent straight to turbohell and nobody questions it? To make it seem like Cas didn’t matter? Guys he was on set, it was confirmed that he was in Canada so why the hell wasn’t he on camera? Why didn’t he have a scene? It’s so cool Jack raised Castiel from the Empty, but it’s so disrespectful to not actually give Cas a scene in the finale, after everything he at the very least deserved that. Plus, you’re telling me Cas willingly let Dean die the way he did when he sacrificed his life for him days earlier? It just doesn’t make sense. Castiel deserved better.

I’m sorry but I need to focus on Destiel, the goodbye scenes, and Wincest. I will say I am a Destiel shipper, I believe that Dean loved Cas back and I’m never going to get over the fact they never let Dean express that. Yay goodbye scene between Dean and Sam felt more like a *subtle* nod towards Wincest shippers. I know Dean and Sam have such a reliant relationship, but this just was not it. I mean it made the Destiel goodbye scene even feel less significant almost to me because it’s like they just wanted to get the ships fans like over with so they can move on without actually making any of them explicitly canon as not to stop someone from watching the finale.

The funeral! You’re telling me that NOBODY showed up to Deans funeral? You’re telling me that over the past 15 years Dean only had Sam? It’s not true. Dean had family, he had people who loved him, and it was more than Sam. I can’t take COVID as an excuse for that because that crew was on that bridge and I get it and I take the pandemic seriously but Dean Winchester did not deserve that death and he did not deserve that lonely funeral.

Eileen! Sure we can assume she was Sams wife but why can’t it be confirmed? I mean she deserved to be in that finale, she deserved to be with Sam. She deserved recognition. Sam Winchester loved Eilleen and that is simply fact, the way he just forgot about her wasn’t in character and it wasn’t right. Eileen deserved better.

Sams life. I’m so happy that he got his happy ending, but the fact that he just sat there for like 7 minutes holding his Deans hand while he died and he did NOTHING? You’re telling me Sam Winchester would just sit and watch his brother die? Seriously? Since when is that the Winchester way? Since when do we just watch our family die and make no attempt to save them? Because people deserve to live. Dean deserved that same ending as Sam. Dean deserved Cas and endless pie and trips around the country to wrestling matches. Sam deserved his brother. Plus so much was unanswered about his life. I mean what did Sam do for a living? Did he ever tell his son? If his wife isn’t Eileen than how much does she know about who Sam really is? Did he still hunt? Why did he never make an attempt to contact Cas or Jack? Or did he? And if so what happened? I mean you’re telling me Sam just walked away from it all like it never happened, like nobody or nothing from his hunting days mattered, like he didn’t have a best friend for an angel and his adopted son was God? I don’t believe it. Sam Winchester deserved better.

All of our dear characters deserved better, but the actors did too. I mean Jensen has played and dedicated himself to Dean Winchester for 15 years and has stated he didn’t like the ending and over and over through the years he has been told he was “too close” to Dean and that they just go where the story takes them. Well, if that’s where the story took them than they’re wrong. Jensen Ackles deserved better than letting this character he has lived as, bled for, cried for, and developed to be killed off on a petty hunt by a no-name vampire.

Jared said that it was his favorite episode and tbh IDK if it was just for viewing boosts but I don’t see how. I mean I love Jared and if it’s his favorite that’s great, and I can’t think of a better person to play Sam Winchester. Although I think Jared deserved to give Sam an ending where he was with his brother.

Misha freaking Collins. They have ALWAYS disliked Misha. Misha is such an amazing person. He is so sweet and kind and I love him and they did him SO dirty. They treated him and Castiel like trash and I won’t ever forgive that. Cas deserved a happy ending, he deserved to be brought back for a proper goodbye at the very least. Misha deserved to have that closure for him and Cas. 

AFK!!! This ending implies that happiness comes through death which is NOT TRUE!!! The actors have fought so hard to raise awareness about depression and anxiety and mental illness only to have the finale of this show basically say the only way one of their most suicidal characters would be happy was if he died. That does not put out a good message especially when so much of this fandom deals with that. So many of us deal with depression and suicidal thoughts and Supernatural helped save us, but they turned the narrative of happy in life to peace and happiness always comes in death and I hate that because it is so not true. Here is to Dean, Sam, Cas, Eileen, Jack, Charlie, Kevin, us (the spn family), the actors, and everyone else who deserved so much better. We stand with you. We love you. We will miss you. Thank you for 15 amazing years