#redacted samuel collins mentioned

[themonotonysyndrome]

You just got Rick Rolled!

I have no excuse.

Watch Max0r videos on Youtube :)

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Summary: Bright Eyes is ready to pull a deadbeat dad.

The duffel bag underneath the bed is ready to go. Pockets are stuffed with wads of stolen cash. 

All they need to do is swipe an armful of blood bags from the Clan’s cold storage for the long road ahead. 

William Solaire standing between them and the milk aisle was not part of the plan. Nor his sad, puppy eyes.

Fucking damn it. 

-

In the grand scheme of things called life, Bright Eyes is not a main character. 

Main characters are people like Frederick, who’s worthy of second chances because he vomits out his heart to those who demand it. Vincent, with his flashy smile and equally flashy cars that caters to single simps who dream of being swept away by a set of 2000-era vampiric TV tropes. Sam, who you can’t hate because he’s not just a bitch, no, no - he’s a bitch with a backstory who just so happens to love to pretend that Bright doesn’t exist on a good day and won’t stop bitching why they’re the modern incarnation of Satan on the worst. Oh! We can’t forget the poster child of Byronic Hero which is Tank. They’re a fan fav for a reason.   

In a world of main characters, Bright Eyes could hardly hold a candle to the people around them. If anything, they’re an NPC. The glitchiest NPC to ever exist in this Skyrim of a world. 

The kind that was brought into the story to be shitted on by the audience because they either don’t meet up to lofty expectations or weren’t the perfect victim.

Is it getting too close to home now? 

Bright has no problem being an NPC - hell, they don’t even mind that there was no space for them on the picture wall that consists of Sam, Frederick, and Tank - they still have their pride, as shitty as it is. Why the fuck would they want to stay at a place where no one wants an NPC that fucks up the whole gameplay? Nah, fam - Bright has been preparing for their getaway on the same night they woke up with an angry Sam sitting beside the bed. 

The Summit expedited the plan. 

While they and Frederick were expected to show up at the undead shindig, being Clan members and all, Sam worried it might overwhelm his Progeny. Apparently, older Vamps enjoy stabbing each other with words and dinner knives after the third course. Sounds like Bright’s kind of people. But because Frederick was benched, so were they. It’s cool, it’s fine. Silver linings and all that. It gave Bright lots of opportunities to pack their meagre shits into a worn-out duffel bag from the store room and steal whatever cash they could find around the house while Frederick was asleep. Vampiric hearing rocks! Sure, they were curious as to why Sam and Tank came back looking like they just witnessed a train wreck, and Vincent seldom came over with his trademark smirks anymore, but since no one tells them anything, Bright chalked it up as another Tuesday. Not their circus, not their monkeys. 

Whatever happened at the Summit isn’t their problem. Missing the last bus to Ferris is.  

Earlier that evening, they made a show of getting ready for bed after Sam left to meet Tank for something, and they can’t bear to look Frederick in the eyes, knowing that this will be the last time they will ever see each other. Not that he knows, but hey, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right? So they collapse onto the mattress, willing themselves to be calm because anything less will have Frederick peeking his head through the door. So they close their eyes until the bond between Progeny and Maker whispers to Bright that Frederick is unconscious. The rose detergent on the pillows and duvet itches their nose. They hate the smell but they can’t forget how wide Frederick smiles just because they accepted a bouquet of roses from him once. It’s not rocket science that all of the previous lavender scents on linens were replaced with rose soon after that. 

Bright Eyes is so exhausted of sustaining themselves on the pitiful sweetness of their once friend turned Maker. Not when the bitterness that comes from Sam is gradually killing them. 

They get up and take a good, long bath. It's probably the only one they’ll be getting for a while, so they’re making the most of the soap and shampoo. They continue to ignore the sweet, floral scent clinging to their body. Then they dig through the closet for a jacket covered in patches and a ripped pair of jeans - the clothes their parents bought for their birthday, now worn with time. The clothes that they wore on the night they were murdered. Then they spend half an hour checking everything for one last time. Anyone can tell by a single glance that Bright Eyes is a walking charity case. It’s cool, it’s fine. No one cares about runaway people all the time. They’re statistics. 

Their stomach flips when Bright stalks across the hall like a ghost. A part of them wanted Frederick to catch them in mid-act, to convince them to stay so they could work things out for good. The part that loathed Bright, however, hisses to remove the glitch in this game. 

Once the front door is locked behind them, Bright wipes their eyes and hoists the duffel bag strap firmly on their shoulder. The abandoned theme park will be their last stop in Dahlia. 

-

Wonder World will forever be a sight for sore eyes. 

Like the Clan, the place is a living corpse. It should have been destroyed, put all the bad memories to rest, but instead, it transformed into a hideout for the walking dead. Hah. 

Bright keeps a good healthy distance from the Vampires that are on shift, listens well to the chatters in dark corners, and avoids slipping underneath awnings that will collapse on top of them if they so much as breathe. They memorised the schedule for this specific night, and it paid off. No one notices them skulking towards the cold storage. See, new batches of blood will be delivered tomorrow, so no one will find out that a couple of leftovers will be missing. Fingers might be pointed at Bright, but by then, they’ll be long gone. A footnote in their lives. 

The fridge greets Bright when they sneak in through the open window, no different than a racoon. Their entry wasn’t as smooth as James Bond’s because their kneecap bumped against the nearby table. Luckily, no one heard it. 

“A+, A+, more A+… you’re fucking kidding me? B-? Beggars can’t be choosers, Bright. Food’s food.” They grumble to themselves as the fridge is raided. They stuffed as many blood bags into the bag as they could. 

Suddenly, the door gently opens. Bright Eyes turn around. Their eyes widen in horror because - 

“Little Bright? Is that you?” William Solaire, the fucking king of every magical equivalent of Schrödinger Cat in Dahlia, tilts his head in question as if to better see them. Standing between them and their freedom. What the fuck, how the fuck, why in the actual fuck!? “I didn’t mean to interrupt your break time. Ah… how are you? Lately, I haven’t had the pleasure of…” Here’s where Bright could only watch in frozen shock when William’s eyes met with the duffel bag and stuffed pockets.  

Hubris is the downfall of many great men. In Bright’s case, it’s stupidity. They really should’ve come up with a backup plan for something like this. That’s on them. They’ll take that L like the underdog they are. 

The two of them shatter the awkward silence by speaking at once. 

“This isn’t what it looks like!” 

“Did you just went through the window?” 

Cue the stares. Wait. There’s something they need to try. 

“Dinosaur in the museum say what?” 

“What?” 

Bright promptly snaps their mouth shut. Don’t laugh. For the love of Reddit Mods, don’t laugh at the most dangerous grandpa in the world. While Bright manages to avoid death via lectures, their shaking shoulders give William the wrong impression. Thinking that the youngest Vampire in his care is shaking with fear at the sight of him pulled on William’s heartstrings. He had always harboured a sadness for not being able to connect with Bright Eyes the way he does with Frederick. The boy is often quiet but perks like a sunflower when you give him the right attention. Bright, on the other hand, scampers away the moment you turn your back. No gentle words or amount of glitter bombs as presents could entice them to drop the walls fiercely guarding their heart. 

William’s heart twists and turns into a knot - more so lately - seeing how Bright Eyes tremble. 

“It’s alright, Little One. You’re alright. The blood bags are for anyone who is in need.” William kindly assures them. “It’s unlike Sam to forget and restock for his household. I supposed our recent conversation has put him out of sorts.” 

“Wait. You think I’m hungry?” 

“Is that not why you brought that bag over - ”

“Yeah, yeah! Pssh, totally! Sam was getting testerical about the lack of bloodshed in the house. Not the fun kind, though.” Bright Eyes fib as they ramble on, their little tell-tale sign of attempting to smother the panic. They refuse to fidget or look away from William’s eyes. Is it a trick of the light? Is Bright high? Why are they wet near the corners? “Uh… c-can I go now? I need to dip to the grocery store for some milk… you know how it is…” 

For some reason, that made the Vampire King flinch. What the hell!? Anyone walking by would think that Bright is bullying him! 

But William lets out a gust of air, heavy and somehow reluctant. He steps aside to present the open door where the world that allowed Tom Howard to live is waiting for Bright. “Of course, Little One. I shouldn’t keep you from your errands.” 

“Lit! So this is me, walking away now…” Bright Eyes warily sidesteps William, who is still giving a strong kicked puppy vibe. Which is insane to comprehend. 

Something about it, however, made them turn around to look at him one final time. Due to the hilariously huge gap between a king and his peasant, Bright has only seen William thrice from afar, and that’s during really important events where they can’t fake a seizure and escape - 

“Bright, Vampires don’t get seizures.” 

“Until now. Quick, pretend you actually care and drag me out.” 

“…Low blow, Bright, and you know it. Why do you never listen when I’m - aaand you’re already on the floor. Great.” 

- so they’re left with them being sandwiched between a highly amused Lovely and a distracted Vincent because their beau is flashing their ankles or something. Bright doesn’t want to know or care. What they do care about is that thanks to Frederick sulking off somewhere, they are now in the spotlight because the prince of the entire damn clan is holding onto their elbow. Random Vampires snicker when they pass by their group, and whenever Bright flips them off, some of them actually laugh! Bright will never understand these deadbeats. But anyway, because of Frederick, Bright has the front row of William in all his fancy ass clothes, in a shiny crown that blinded Bright and a million-dollar smile that rubs them off the wrong way. Fuckers with a max level on charms give them the hives. 

So this melancholic shroud that drapes over his shoulders so heavily that Bright might as well ask if it’s made of lead with how it makes William look so small in the shadows? Yeah, it’s giving red flags. 

And since Bright is colourblind with no filter whatsoever - 

“OK, why do you look like someone woke you up from a depression nap?” Bright demanded, marching back to William. It’s stupid. It’s borderline suicidal, but hey, Bright was never known to make decisions that align with their self-preservation. That’s something their murderer and both Makers will agree on. Tonight, curiosity wins. “Usually you’re very…” They scrunch up their face, trying to think of the perfect words. 

William raises an eyebrow. “Very?” 

“Very shiny.” Bright nods, pleased with themselves. “The kind of shiny that’s like fire in Chinese factories after every election.” 

“I… see. I’m starting to understand why Samuel complain of migraines every now and then.” 

Even as he said that, William began to smile fondly. That threw Bright off a little. He said that without derision and they have no idea how to react. 

“Uh, right. So what’s up?” 

“Can’t a man be caught in his own sorrow every now and then?” 

“But you’re not supposed to be angsty. You’re the King. Your world is supposed to be perfect and all that shit.” Unlike mine, is what Bright didn’t say. 

William’s smile turns rueful. He surprises them by admitting, “Would you like to know a secret, Little Bright? My world hasn’t been perfect lately. How can it be when my loved ones are leaving one by one.” 

Oh, fuck them, is William trauma dumping right now? Deadass? Is this trauma dumping!? Bright didn’t consent to this!

Wait - leaving? Who’s leaving too? 

…Is it any of Bright’s business, though? When they’re doing the same thing tonight? 

This scene feels familiar. It’s like the time they steal a sip from a man in his late fifties while he’s in the middle of a divorce and struggling with alimony. Bright was looking for food, not someone’s entire life story that, in the end, they paid for an Uber and sent him on his way. The point is, there’s no fun in kicking someone who’s already eating dirt. That’s not enough room in Wonder World for two miserable fuckers, so Bright might as well do something about it. 

“C’mon, let’s go. We’re going on a side quest right now.” Bright demands, and fuck it, they grab one of William’s hands and drag him to the exit. Does it say something that the Vampire King lets himself be led away like a cow? Probably, but Bright couldn’t care less.

The patrolling Vampires stare at them incredulously. None attempted even to approach the duo. 

“Is this a kidnapping?” William politely inquires. While Bright might’ve initiated the contact, he finds himself reluctant to let go of their smaller hand. It’s an anchor that he silently needed over these past few days. 

“That and robbery too. I’m gonna be needing your wallet since mine are non-existent. Which one is your car? Wait! Let me guess, the one on the right that looks like it just left the showroom a day ago.” 

“It’s actually this morning. I enjoy collecting Rolls Royce as much as I enjoy watching those exciting Bond movies.” 

“Sheesh, I guess it’s hereditary then. Ok, Goldfinger - take the wheel. We’re going to karaoke. Screaming into a mic is a legit form of therapy. Take it from me.” After dropping that nugget of wisdom, Bright and William enter the car. 

Before William speeds off from the driveway, he frowns and asks, “Why can’t I be James Bond?” 

Bright Eyes groans into their hands. 

-

It takes William Motherfucking Solaire crying into a microphone, singing Hurt by Christina Aguilera to convince Bright Eyes that something is wrong with the trajectory of their life. 

Seriously, what the fuck? 

Despite being one of the prettiest men who should be kept in a museum (isn’t he 5,000 years old or something?) William is an ugly crier. It doesn’t make any damn sense, but he sure ain’t got that damsel-in-distress tears like Cinderella. Bright could only grimace as they extended a box of tissues once William finished belting out the final verse. Their duffel bag mocks them from the door, the only exit from this room. The lamentation of Bright Eyes would be a sick-ass song. 

“The closest thing I have to a son, child-in-law, great grandson and friend are leaving me.” William confesses after blowing his nose. 

“Did I ask?” 

Much to Bright’s horror, William continues.  

“I wanted to be a leader and a father that I never had. A Maker that mine never was. All I wanted… was to protect my family. How did it all went wrong?” 

Oh, geez. William does not give a shit that Bright Eyes hasn’t unlocked his social link. All they wanted was to evict whatever funk was messing with his system like a landlord so they could run away in peace. Not play therapist! Now, the employees are nervously looking through that window on the door because a grown man is depleting their stock of tissue boxes by the minute while Bright is struggling to figure out how to comfort said grown man that doesn’t involve homicide. 

By the way, it took precisely ten minutes for William’s words to register in Bright’s crack-concentrated, addled spider monkey brain. 

Their eyes widen like the backside of a yogi mid-downward dog. “Time out. Back it up, dump truck. Vincent’s leaving? As in, leaving the Clan? Him and the rest of the main characters?” If Bright was still alive, their heart would beat frantically as their head spins in disbelief and betrayal. 

Frederick is leaving them? After everything? To follow what, Sam? And Vincent and Lovely? 

…Without even telling them? 

Numbness and Bright Eyes always have a strange relationship. Quinn draining their blood down to the last drop didn’t give Bright that all-encompassing numbness. It was only when they woke up again that did it. It feels like their bones just took a dip in a pond in the middle of Antarctica. They didn’t even realise they were crying until William gently wiped the tears with a tissue. It’s a testament to how the shocking numbness rooted Bright to the core because they would flinch away from any physical contact that they didn’t initiate after death. 

“You didn’t know.” William summarised with that same melancholy from Wonder World and that same sad smile. They hate it. They don’t deserve it Well! So much for karaoke therapy. Now Bright’s feeling like shit too. 

William leans back when Bright Eyes huffs and slumps against the cheap red sofa. They pretend that their nose isn’t itching when they sniffle as they angrily rub their red eyes. “Of course I didn’t know! I get that Sam wouldn’t tell me shit but I didn’t expect this knife in the back from Freddy!” They spit, and then words start to embarrassingly spill from their mouth before Bright could stop themselves. “I fucking hate this! Why can’t I do anything right!? Why can’t I stop making mistakes? Why do I always try for people who never even like me? Fuck, fuck, fuck this! I hate feeling like this! God, I’m so tired of-of everything!” Fun fact: Bright is also an ugly crier. Even more so than William at this point. Not that it matters because they’re too busy wailing and making a mess out of his shirt when he pulls them into a tight hug. 

A shirt that has more of a network compared to theirs, and Bright Eyes appropriate it by blowing their nose. 

When their crying tapers into hiccups, it’s William’s soothing hand behind their back that grounds Bright Eyes. Exhaustion finally sinks in, and they’re long for the rest in the forever box (coffin) already. 

“I’m… sorry, Little One.” 

“The hell for?” Bright Eyes scrunches their nose. Although William had released them from his embrace, Bright didn’t actually scoot away. Instead, they play the part of a finicky cat - pressing close to the older Vampire without acknowledging it. “You’re not Sam. I hardly even know you.” 

“And I regret it dearly. And I deeply apologised for the suffering that you had to endured under Samuel’s blatant negligence. If I had known earlier that the wounds caused by Alexis run deeper than he would like to admit, I would have intervened. I would have you in my care instead of his in a heartbeat.” 

“Alexis?” 

Here, William sighs. “My eldest Progeny and Samuel’s Maker.” 

“Why does he hate her so much that he took it out on me?” Bright hates how small their voice sounded to their own ears. They needed to know, though. They needed closure, and then maybe, finally, they’ll be able to move on somehow. 

William looks torn, clearly debating with himself. He sighed once more, but this time, it was with resignation. “It’s not my story to tell. However,” Seeing the crushed expression on poor Bright’s face, he decides to be honest towards someone who desperately needs it. Especially since they suffered not only at the hands of someone who was supposed to be their caretaker and teacher but also William’s own negligence. After the Adam incident, he should’ve kept a closer eye on his Clan instead of diverting this attention to other Houses. He owed this much to Bright Eyes and more. “You deserve the truth. Do you have some time to listen to an old man’s regrets?”

“I was supposed to clap my asscheeks to Ferris. So much for that. Actually, I guess it’s pretty hypocritical of me to get pissed off at Frederick for booking it since I was gonna do the same.” Bright’s grumbled, causing William to rear back in a start. But they press on. “So why the fuck not? Whose origin are you spilling? Wham Slam Bam Sam?” 

“…Yes. Two sins never cancel each other.” Something dark flashes over William’s beautiful face. The hair behind Bright’s neck freezes. “Yet I can’t help but find myself disappointed in Samuel’s behaviours more so than mine after tonight.” 

“Spill the tea, spill the tea! My life is already a German bedtime stories and besides, isn’t it so much fun when you focuses on someone’s L instead of yours!?” 

William simply rolled his eyes at their cheek, and so Bright Eyes made themselves comfortable as the Vampire King narrated a story of a daughter he dearly loved but could never understand, and in return, she was unable to understand those she loved. It was all very sad, and the tropes that William describes are all too familiar to Bright. Man, no wonder Alexis turned out to be a villainess like those in their favourite Korean romance manhwa. They wonder if reincarnation is a thing in this world. Would they reincarnate as one of Trisha Paytas’s babies, or is that exclusive to royalties? They made a mental note to ask William once story time was over. Anyway, Alexis and Sam’s history could be a Hozier’s album all on its own and Bright supposed they could muster up some form of sympathy for him if they have similar-sized bazoombas/chesticles as the Princess’, but alas, they don’t. For that, Bright can never forgive Sam for his projection. 

Frederick and their situation hit too close to home apparently, but just because he can’t dish it out on Alexis, does that justify him punishing Bright in her stead? Fuck that. 

Anger buzzes around Bright’s ears like angry hornets. They can’t be around Sam for at least 100 years now that they know the truth. Frederick and Tank can have him for all they care. 

They snatch the microphone again, prompting William’s curiosity. “Are we in for the next session of karaoke therapy?” 

Bright just searched for Grow A Pear by Kesha and belted out for the next three minutes. Making sure to scream out the verse, ‘but you cry about this, and whine about that. When you grow a pair you can call me back,’ making William wonder if he should’ve used more tact. Once they got it out of their system, Bright exhaled deeply and turned their attention back to William with their hands on their hips. 

“If thought crimes were a thing, they would need a new set of the Geneva Convention. So Sam’s a major Soy Wojack.  Good for him. Why is he and every one else are packing their shit up now and not ten thousand years ago?” 

“That’s my fault. My decisions regarding the Summit were inexcusable, and I fear they will be unforgivable to those I love.” William replies as morosely as a tortured poet in the 1500s. Very apt. 

Storytime, part 2! So, while the Summit didn’t go to hell in a handbasket, a lot of the parties that were nearly caught in the crossfire were butthurt, apparently. Trusts were betrayed, and William no longer rests on that pedestal in the eyes of Sam, Vincent, Tank and the furries. Bright doesn’t understand what the big deal is; William is literally an artefact. You can’t live that long with a shiny moral compass. Even now, as William easily takes in Bright’s shenanigans in stride, they could never ignore his capacity for cruelty and ruthlessness. No matter how soft he speaks or how kind he is to Bright. However, stressing out over the assumption that William always has an ulterior motive whenever he opens his mouth would be the equivalent of same-day shipping to God for Bright. Again. Besides, assumptions are nails that could seal a coffin, and Bright would rather use them to build a shelf for Bad Dragons and Lovehoney instead. 

So they snap their fingers, switching to Business Mode. “You know what your problem is? Your problem is that you don’t have a Shae to your Sansa. The Garrus to your Shepard. The Soundwave to your Megatron. Get it?” 

William just looks like a lost child in Whole Foods. Bright tries another angle. 

“Confidants, dude. You don’t have any of those. You’re a King, right? I thought every King has a council of advisers? Ain’t that supposed to be Vincent and Alexis’ job?” 

“No. I can’t possibly bear to burden my children with the unsavoury aspects of our world.” William counters with a grimace. Perhaps William and Bright share a lot more in common than they thought. Not the martyrdom vibes coming off William like radiation but the fact that both of them are essentially the universe's way of trying to figure out how much PTSD one man can possibly get. If Bright is an economist, they would vehemently write themselves and William down as bad use of human capital. Oh! Wait, William is still talking. “It was not out of malice that I placed my family in the dark regarding the Summit. It was out of love. I don’t understand why they couldn’t understand that. Porter even served as their shield.” 

“It could’ve gone better. It really did.” Bright insists, but judging from William’s stubborn expression, this is an issue that is not going to be resolved overnight. 

They thought long and hard about this. Running away is so damn easy it might as well be a cheat code, and isn’t that what Bright and the others are doing? Vincent and the others are probably doing so under the guise of ‘needing some space’ from William, but Bright was planning to run away from their feelings and issues with Frederick and Sam, with no intention of ever talking to them again. 

HOWEVER!

Being abandoned fucking sucks. Bright of all people knows how that tastes! The thought that William would be left all alone with a daughter that comes and goes worse than that street cat Priscilla leaves a sour taste in their mouth. William isn’t an evil dude. He’s just dumb.

Slowly, their duffel bag loses its appeal. Bright is going to take a leap of faith here, and only time will tell if this will be the stupidest decision they have ever made, triumph over their jaunt in Wonder World with Frederick. And so they sit beside William and say, “Look. I actually don’t wanna be alone, and I bet you don’t want that too.” “No, Little One. I had enough of it back in the day.” William quietly admits. A Vampire King shouldn’t be able to look like a poor puppy being left out in the rain! Seriously! 

“Right. Here’s the plan, Batman. You wanna spare Vincent and the rest about the nitty gritty aspects of what it means to be a deadbeat? Fine. We do it baby steps, then. You tell me before you pull off any shits, and I’ll talk your ear off how stupid it is until we figure something better. Sounds good?” 

“No. Absolutely not. You’re family as well, Bright Eyes. I won’t have you suffer the burden of my crown.” 

“I am the Alpha and the Omega. I am one of the mods in 4chan. I can handle shits, alright? It’s in my DNA! Look William, you need someone in your corner that you can trust. If you can’t start with your Progenies, start with me. Prove to them that you value their opinions. We’ve got all the time in the world for it, right?” 

Finally, after trying to get through William the entire night, he starts to look hopeful and, most importantly, determined. He clutches Bright’s hand tenderly. 

“In that case, I have a proposal of my own. If you promise to be my guide, I promise to be your teacher. Allow me to be what Sam was meant to be for you. Perhaps by helping one another, happiness can make its way to us.” As he says this, William feels a lot more better than ever before. It feels like things are starting to look up for him. A rebirth could be just what he and Bright sorely needed. 

What a blessing. What a boon to have a great-great-grandchild to be the modern incarnation of Athena. 

“Yeah, yeah. So! Never gonna give you up?” 

“Never gonna let you down.” 

[p0pp3t]

still wondering why sam just had duct tape on hand during the inversion. why did he bring that

[zozo-01]

"maybe god does love you enough to save you. maybe they were god all along."

This fic is part of the 'Hot Boi Summer Springback' Event ran by the Skyside Discord and organized by the lovely @angelicaether!! Thank you Aether and everyone else for participating in the event and you can read all of their fics on this master list here!!

For this I heard one line from Sam about how he wanted Darlin' ever since he's met them, and of course I had to fucking run with it!! Mix in a little religious trauma and boom!! Fic has been made. :) Thank you to @lovelylonerliterature for being my beta reader and @autisticempathydaemon, @cashandprizes and @horrorscoupes for being my IRL Sam Collinses, hehehe. (Also Lo, the other religious trauma fic is coming. >:3)

CW: Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Religious Guilt, sam was raised southern baptist and it shows, darlin isn't catholic but they were also raised religiously, Self-Hatred, sam hates himself for being a vampire , Mentioned Alexis (Redacted ASMR), Mentioned Quinn (Redacted ASMR), only by names and action, Blood Mention, Blood Drinking, Disordered Eating, he is a vampire after all and he hates it, Mentioned Character Death, Referenced Character Death, Mentions of Minor Injuries, darlin is involved so of course there are injuries, sam is going through an existential crisis while darlin is just there teehee

click here for the ao3 link!!!

--

There were two types of blood to Samuel Collins. The ones he could barely tolerate and the ones he downright detested. It took a while for some of the former to graduate into the latter, but he doubted that he would ever be the kind of vampire that would savour the taste of blood. It was fuel, barely even food to him.

He chugged another blood bag, following it with a sip of his bourbon. The alcohol burned down the tangy aftertaste, making it slightly easier to digest it. For the first time in a decade, he found himself in an intense hunger, almost as bad as his bloodlust. He couldn't figure out what it was. He didn't feel extra stress, nor was he exerting his magic all that much. Whatever the case was, the result was him downing more blood than he did during his newborn years.

He sighed, staring at the empty bag and cup in his hands. He would wonder what he did to deserve all of this, but he's known the answer since he was younger and brighter. Throwing the bag into the trash, he poured himself a full glass of his bourbon and flopped onto his couch. Sam took a swing, hoping to get rid of the residual blood clinging to his throat. 

He hated himself for the fact that he needed blood to survive, he was a healer for God's sake. Yet he hated himself for hating himself in the first place, stuck in a vicious cycle that would never end. There was nothing wrong with drinking blood, it's the same principle of humans eating meat. Sometimes, the lion has to eat the gazelle in order to survive. The circle of life. But Sam couldn't help but feel disgusted, filth finding its way from heart and tainting his body. 

Guilt ate him alive, his old prejudices coming back to haunt him. He's met wonderful vampires, both before and after his turning. And he would never think of Vincent as a monster. But he couldn't help the little thoughts in his head that the fact that he was a vampire was wrong. He was just a monster, a feeder and a leech. (It's funny how his father's voice haunted him to this day.)

Sam never understood the difference between drinking the supposed blood of Christ and this, one was deemed holy and the other made him a heathen. If he drank blood from a holy source, then would his sins be washed away? Was there a chance that if he swallowed his pride and walked to the altar with a chalice in hand, would God, the Forgiving, forgive him?

The vampire forsaken God long after he was forsaken. It didn't stop Sam from making small prayers when times got rough, despite the fact that He wouldn't hear him. Some habits die hard, he knows that all too well.

He wondered how long it would take for him to make peace with his new lease on life. There was no chance of trying to go vegan, he'd exhausted every avenue of research in that direction. Meaning this was it. There was nothing more he could do to save his damned soul. He loathes Alexis a little more each day he goes without the sun kissing his skin like it used to.

Daddy always said that he was a dirty sinner at heart, his soul was stained from birth. It made sense that his physical body would match his sinning core. Alexis was just God's punishment for the monster that he was. Maybe if he spent more time on his hands and knees, he would have escaped his fate.

(That didn't explain them though. There was no way that He would send them his way. If Alexis was his punishment, then they were his salvation. Yet the only reason he could conceive as to why they came into his life was to punish him harder, teach him a lesson he's spent his life internalizing. He'd only pray that they won't get caught up in his hellish flames.)

It took two cups of bourbon and a whole lot of water for Sam to finally stop gagging at the blood. Funny how when he was younger, he would lick his bloody lips as a showing of strength and pride. He felt powerful when he consumed his blood. Now look at him, disdain was all that was left of the broken man sitting on the couch.

Time travel was the only answer to his problem, going back to the past to tell his younger self that Alexis wasn't worth it. The fun and wild thrill she gave wasn't worth the utter agony that would come his way. At the very least, he would tell himself to make it clearer to her that he didn't feel the same. But he didn't, and he got exactly what he deserved.

There's no use living in the past, he told himself out loud. What's done is done and all he could do was make do with the hand life has dealt him. Staring out the window, the millions of stars stared back at him with judgment. Fuck them, who gave them the right to cast their holy gaze to him. Not when they stood high up on their throne in heaven. They had no idea how hard it was to stay pure down on Earth. Lucky bastards must be thrilled to watch him suffer for their entertainment.

(Doesn't that sound familiar? I'm talking about you.)

His residual anger was enough to burn the forest surrounding his forced home, but he had to get it under control. There was time to rage and lament to the world, but tonight wasn't it, not when they would be coming by shortly.

The partnership he had with Darlin' was tentative, despite him already saving their sorry ass. Both of them were still trying to feel the other out, ready to pounce if the other showed signs of traitorous actions. Beyond that, he could tell that Darlin' was a good person with their heart in the right place. A bit of a bleeding heart, something he didn't expect at all, but it was a welcome surprise. If they met in different circumstances, then things may have been different.

If they had been born earlier, or him later, then they may have caught each other on the D.A.M.N. Campus. He'd stare at them, hopelessly enamoured with the shifter that stood maybe a few feet away. How could he not, they were absolutely beautiful. Prettier than the songbirds that would fly by or the sun's light that formed a halo on their head. His buddies would laugh at him, dying that the Samuel Collins, fuckboy extraordinaire, fell in love. But hell must have frozen over, for he was a fool just for them.

He would saunter towards them, his flirty tone immediately dismantled by their smile. Yet his awkwardness would endear them for some reason and they would let him court them, something no one thought he was capable of.

He would lead them back to his house, laying them on his bed and showing them how much he loved them-

Sam's mouth dried up and his fangs started to ache at the thought of their body under him. Goddamn it, he needed another damn blood bag. Trudging back to the kitchen, he drained another bag, not bothering with a cup as he drank straight from the bourbon bottle to wash down the taste.

This was getting ridiculous. Absolutely, fucking stupid. He couldn't turn into a fucking newborn every time he thought about them. He shouldn't even be thinking about them like that. It was wrong, and indecent, and robbed them of autonomy. He felt like an abomination for even daring to fantasize about them. He was nothing but a sinner and he couldn't taint their light. 

That didn't stop his fangs from elongating at the thought of their blood anyway. He couldn't help it. They were just so damn bright and wonderful, he had no choice but to forget his own immoral heart. When bathing in the rays around Darlin', there was nothing to focus on but them. Their enchanting laugh and crude jokes burrowed their way deep into Sam's heart, and they wouldn't be leaving any time soon.

And their blood, don't even get him started. Unfortunately for his lust and hunger (he doesn't want to call it love right now), he's had the chance to smell their blood quite often. From large gaping wounds that he would heal to that stupid blood-soaked jacket that Darlin' refused to let go, he's sure he knows their scent as well as the priest knows his congregation. Something about how shifters have more magic in their blood compared to other empowered people, but he knew that wasn't the reason.

It was just because it was Darlin' and that they were incredible and wonderful. It was no secret that they were a vampire magnet, catching all of their attention whenever the two went out. His own blood would curl and rage would flow through his veins, jealousy taking reign of his wicked heart. But he couldn't blame any of them. Most vampires look for salvation in the people they bite, hoping the magic in their blood will be enough to save them. 

But they had more potent blood, even more than the average shifter. It had to have been a blessing for them, their magic so powerful and their blood being a reflection of that. He could tell from the moment they bled all over their couch, and it made every vampire obsessed with having the taste of their blood. Their blood smelled like the blizzards they faced and he wondered if it tasted as cold as they smelled. Or maybe their blood was as warm as their sunshine self.

Clearly, he wasn't any better than the vampires who'd grab them and bare their fangs to force their blood into their mouths. He was utterly disgusting. 

Sam watched the clock on top of the fireplace. (He stared at the judging eyes looking back at him.) They should be here sometime soon, knowing they'd arrive five minutes early because they're just so damn respectful of his time. It would be easier to hate, or at the very least control his fondness for them if they were a little terrible. They were an asshole and a little shit, but awful? Never in a million years. 

He had to find a way to curb his craving for them, out of respect for them and to remind himself that he didn't deserve good things. How he got addicted to a drug before he took it was beyond him. But they were absolutely magical so he wouldn't put it past the realm of possibility. 

Exactly when he expected, he heard their motorcycle park itself in front of the porch. The roaring engine woke the butterflies in his stomach, having to stop himself from zipping around the house in excitement.

A few relaxing breaths later, Sam deemed himself ready to face Darlin'. His bloodlust was in control and his heart calmed down from the earthquake it was. He stood in front of the door, waiting for Darlin' to finally knock on the door and bless him with their parents.

An eternity later, soft knocks filled the air and his cheeks started to hurt with a smile. Of course, he gave a couple of seconds before he opened the door, not wanting to look desperate for opening the door immediately.

Eyes meeting theirs, Sam lost his breath for a few minutes. The stars he cursed earlier shone brightly in their eyes, galaxies swirling into a beautiful kaleidoscope of divine essences. His heart picked up again, giving up on controlling it and instead hoping that Darlin' can't hear the pounding in his chest.

(Momentary silence filled his brain when tranced by their gaze. He doesn't know how the fuck they did it. The voices that filled his head, of the father he abandoned and the women who condemned him, all went quiet with their smile. Only their sweet voice and unintentional sweeter words remained in his brain. Rosaries were nothing but decorative garbage to him, but they were able to silence the demons in his head. Who needs a cross when their protection was all a man needs?)

A hand waving in front of his face tore him from his thoughts. "Hello? Earth to the Cowboy? Anyone home?" they joked with him, but there was that twinge of concern in their voice. Too caring for his wicked heart.

"Yeah, everythin's good here, darlin'," he reassured, nodding while moving to the side to let the wolf in. He had to hold his breath when they walked by him, their sweet scent entering his nose and driving himself. Had he been a weaker man, he would have pinned them right where they stood, but he'd had enough experience beating himself for his desires.

Sam went into the kitchen to get some water for them, knowing that it's probably been a while since they drank a cup of water. The way they chugged down the water was all the indication he needed.

With water in their body, Darlin' got to the root of why they were there. Quinn had been sending some of his lackeys after them, to stalk and intimidate them to go back to him. So far, their efforts hadn't amounted to anything, just some poor bastards who were promised a bump in pay if they were able to bring them to him. But recently, Quinn had been sending stronger mercenaries their way. Nothing they couldn't handle, but the escalation was definitely concerning, for who knew what his next steps would be.

If his mother was here, she would have told Sam to send Darlin' off with a rosary and prayer. That would be enough to keep evil spirits away, himself included. Unfortunately for him, they would balk at the idea of having something to protect them, which was the only thing that was stopping him from becoming their bodyguard. 

He had more selfish intentions though, the rotten thing he was. If he spends more time with Darlin', then he can silence the voices permanently. Their heavenly light could cast out the darkness entrenched in his heart.

Once they were finished venting about this recent development, they slumped in their seat, exhausted from their constant vigilance. Truly, they didn't deserve any hardships in life. They were too good to deserve anything like this. Blessed with a kind heart and strong resolve, why would it dare be wasted on a desolate place such as this?

God loves you, but not enough to save you.

"I didn't know you were religious," their questioning tone brought him out of his thoughts. He found it silly that they would ask a question like that until he saw what they were looking at.

It was an old crucifix on top of his fireplace, golden in colour and with various coloured gems. On it were the eyes that have been judging him since he left Mont Blanc. It had been a gift from his mother before he ran away, her way of blessing him on his journey. But it served more as a reminder of how far he's fallen from the golden boy he was all those years back.

The eyes of Jesus bore into his soul, asking him what was the point of him dying for his sins if he still turned out to be a heathen.

Hand waving in front of his face, he remembered that Darlin' was in the room with him. The heat from the crucifix's eyes died down, maybe wondering if they would deal their final blow to him.

"Yeah- um, my momma gave it to me 'fore I left home," he started to explain, finding any way to skirt this conversation and meaningfully answer their question. "She was a Southern Baptist at heart, thought a cross could save a life." He smirked at that sentiment, clearly it didn't do anything to save him. He didn't give himself any chances.

Their gaze was transfixed on the crucifix to the point where they didn't even look back to face him. Maybe it was a similar likeness that was calling out to each other? Who could know with that one.

"It's beautiful," their hazed voice filled the room. He looked back at the crucifix, not finding anything notable about it. It was just a wooden thing with a dead man on it. Nothing holy to worship, just a sign of empty promises made toward forgiveness.

If anything, the wolf in front of them was more worthy of worship and prayer, because he knew that any pact made with them would be worth it. Why pray to the dead when the living is so much better?

A genuine curiosity about their interest made him ask the question, "you religious growin' up too?" They never gave off the vibe of being God-fearing, but some people hide it better than others. Or learn how to not shove it down peoples' throats.

"I was, not Catholic though," they answered while finally turning back to face him. "Wasn't Southern Baptist either," they added with a chuckle. His wolf was filled with interesting little factoids. He couldn't imagine his Darlin' on their knees praying, but they always had a hopeful outlook that it was hard not to think they didn't believe in the divine. He hummed in acknowledgement, going back and sitting silently next to them.

"If you don't mind me asking…" their voice trailed in hesitation, a tell-tale sign that they were looking for permission to continue speaking. He nodded, giving them the OK to finish their question. Their eyes went back to the crucifix with a questioning look in their eye. "Why keep it around if you're not super religious?"

Sam understood it was a valid question to ask, even if he had a complicated answer to it. Was he supposed to tell Darlin' that he kept the cross around as his failure? That if he shut up and lived the life of pain that his parents laid out for him, then he wouldn't have ended up as the monster he was now. He hated himself and there was no one better than God to keep judging him.

"Well…" he stalled, trying to find a suitable answer. "I keep it as a reminder of where I came from," he started, only to scoff. "And where I don't want to go back to." He'd rather go through his accident again than go back to that hellscape. "'Sides, it's nothin' but a piece of wood. Ain't nothin' magical to it."

There was a contemplative look on their face, finding a way to choose their next words without touching on any sensitive subjects. Their narrowed eyes could burn a hole in the floor they were staring at and he could only wonder about the thoughts firing off in their head. (Really, he wondered if they ever thought of him with this level of intensity.)

"Do you believe in God?" they asked with a quiet tone. Now that was a question that he didn't expect from them.

"I just told ya I was raised religious," he snarked, "I don't know what you're tryin' to say."

They rolled their eyes, flicking his arm in protest of the teasing. "You're such an asshole, leech," they laughed it off and Sam was sure that was the sound of the seven trumpets. What a beautiful way to die.

They went quiet again, their eyebrows furrowed in curiosity. "You don't have to be religious to believe in God, ya know." 

"Oh yeah? What 'bout you Darlin'? Do you believe in God?" he asked in retaliation, interested in what their answer would be. Part of him hoped that they didn't, that he was right in putting his faith in what he could see.

"I do," they said bluntly. It wasn't the answer he was hoping for, but he kept quiet to let them keep talking. "I was raised with the whole 'what's written with you is meant for you'. Basically, what God wants to happen will happen." They rest their head on Sam's shoulder and his arm instinctively wrapped around them. "I know most people don't like that idea, 'cuz it robs them of autonomy. But I don't know, I've always found it comforting. No matter how much bad shit happens to me, it won't be more than I can bear."

"And if it is too much for you to handle?" he questioned gently.

"Then God would write some comfort for me," they giggled. "I know it's stupid, but it's the little things that get me through the day." They yawned and made themselves comfortable on his shoulder. Sam could feel his heart pounding. "You still haven't answered my question."

He took one last look at Darlin', with their pretty face trying to fight off the exhaustion that caught up to them. He couldn't stop staring at their eyes. Sweet and forgiving, they were the eyes he wished would look at them whenever he went to church. They were what God's gaze was supposed to be, free from the hate and judgement he suffered from the congregation. Maybe if they were guiding him from the start, then none of this would have happened. They wouldn't allow any bad things to happen to him.

(Then again, if he was never turned then he wouldn't have met Darlin'. Or at least they would meet in a drastically different context. He wouldn't have the chance to fall in love with them. So maybe Darlin' was right that there was a light at the end of the tunnel for everyone. He just can't believe that he deserved that respite.)

Contemplation be damned, there was no point in thinking about the question when he already knew the answer. "Yeah, suppose I still believe in God, just found it on my own terms." They didn't need to know that they were the only God that he believed in. His mind already started building the shrines in their honour, wondering if they would ever be enough to share his love for them.

It was much easier than saying the words 'I love you'. He may never have the courage (or the right) to say those words.

"I'm glad… that you could tell me…" their voice teemed with yawns and sleep. He chuckled, of course Darlin' would push back on precious sleep in order to listen to his response. That simple action did more for him than any divine being he was forced to worship.

Gently as he could, knowing that Darlin' was a light sleeper, he picked them up and brought them to his spare bedroom. As much as he so wanted to bring them to his bed, that was a big step that neither of them were ready for. Hell, they haven't even hinted that it was something they would be interested in, and his heart wouldn't survive precious Darlin' sleeping in his bed. But it was ok, he would wait an eternity to be with them.

Sam watched them as they slept, eyeing the little details that they hid in their waking moments. Like how their eyebrows were so expressive, or the way their lip scar would stretch with their smile. 

This was so very wrong. Watching them sleep, observing them so carefully, he was being a fucking creep for this. But he couldn't help but not look away. Darlin' was so reserved in their waking moments, and he wanted to see them at their most vulnerable. Even if he was tainting them with his corruption, leave him be! He deserves to be a remorseless, selfish thing once in a while. They were so endearing in their sleeping state, and he promised to always protect them in all of their glory. From their sweet eyes and beautiful body and split lip-

There was blood dripping from their face.

His mouth watered before the intoxicating scent hit his nose. Sam froze where he stood, torn between the want to lick the blood of his face and the need to leave. His heart versus his conscience. He had fed only an hour ago and of course, their blood was enough to make him starve again. His shaky hands wiped the blood from their face and then quickly cleaned it off with a napkin in his pocket, not even giving himself the chance to taste it.

He ran out of the room, locking the door behind him to keep them safe from him. His chest heaved with panic, heart racing a marathon. It wasn't fair that Darlin's blood had this much of an effect on them, but it wasn't their fault either. This was Sam's problem to deal with, and he'd be damned if he made his Darlin' feel guilty over something they had no control over.

Calming himself to a reasonable point, he made his way back to the kitchen. Sam opened up the damn fridge to grab another damn blood bag and a bottle of bourbon, sliding onto the floor and chugging it all over again. If only he was normal, then he would just slip into bed and cuddle his wolf, and not run out at the sight of something as simple as blood. 

At this point, he's sure that Darlin' would never want him. They've told him little bits and pieces about their relationship with Quinn, and how absolutely vile he was to them. From biting them without their consent to pressuring them into taking care of him, it's no wonder that they would be a little hesitant to jump into another relationship with a vampire. He had his own gripes with Alexis. But Sam was coming to the awful realisation that he was more like Quinn than he thought.

Shame and disgust filled his throat once again. It wasn't fair that Darlin' was stuck with monster after monster, they deserved so much better than him. Yet he couldn't help the jealous bile that filled his mouth at the thought of Darlin' with another person. What an awful predicament.

He gazed back at the crucifix with judging eyes. Only they weren't as harsh this time. Still judging as ever, but this time there was a hint of… was it encouragement? That wasn't the right term, but it was as if they were nudging him on a certain path. If he was truly willing to repent and walk the path of salvation, then somehow Darlin' would be a part of that journey.

He let out a wistful laugh, finding it impossible that Darlin' would ever want to waste their time 'fixing' him. But there was a corner of his heart, one where a sliver of light made its presence known.

Maybe God does love you enough to save you. Maybe they were God all along.

[aurorialwolf]

Ok who likes the idea of dad!Porter ??

That may have been rhetorical because I’m gonna blab about his daughter anyways 👍 this is the next instalment of me blabbing about my redacted next gen ocs!

- Her full name is Portia Solaire, William allowed her to have the last name of the House as she is Porter’s kid and therefore affiliated like he is

- She has a British accent, like her dad! And similar humour / personality to him

- We don’t know whether or not Porter’s maker was an old blood (Porter’s maker is mentioned in the official timeline but I don’t think it mentions how old he was?), so (for my headcanon about vampire children) I’m not sure if she’s turned by her own blood or if she asks to be turned / has to be turned to be saved when she’s 16 or so, but either way she becomes a vampire at around the same time as the other kids

- Porter taught her to fight from a very young age, initially being a fun bonding experience when she was young with a wooden sword, but now she can give him a run for his money, and manages to beat him around the age of 18-19

- Also, depending on the version of her that I’m talking about they’re nonbinary, they/she or they/them, but the one I currently will be including is she/they probably, so if you notice any inconsistencies it’s just because I imagine them / her in a couple different ways gender-wise

- She, like Adrian (Alexis’s son), receives a sword when she turns 16/17 and is out of bloodlust (as William gives each of his ‘grandkids’ a sword as a partially ceremonial thing and also because he wants them to be able to protect themselves), and he makes her a guard of his daughter (heir to the throne) Emilia.

- Together, her and Adrian can protect Emilia efficiently, as Adrian does defense and Portia does offense

- Portia is the more outspoken between her and Adrian, openly criticizing Emilia when she power trips a bit, leading to Emilia reprimanding her (not that it’s very effective)

- Portia also spars with Samuel, though is less unhinged about it than Adrian, and she’s the one that teaches Samuel to beat Porter when Emilia makes her plan to ascend to the throne with force

- Eventually, she, like her father, will become the next sword of the house, the weapon they point at their enemies to win. When Emilia ascends to the throne, through whatever means, she will replace Porter and take up that role in his stead

- Porter doesn’t like the idea of this, yet knows the inevitability of it, and so teaches her as best he can to do what he does.

This is all I have for now, I think! Hdksgdjs I’m kinda tired at work so I might have forgotten some stuff or not written this as well but I tried! Long story short, she’s a hell of a lot like Porter, which is.. both good and bad, I guess

Taglist: @vegafan69 @darlin-collins @kxemii @professionallyyappin @sereh624

[autisticempathydaemon]

🎵 (but no pressure!)

I'll show you mine if you show me yours first/ Let's compare scars, I'll tell you whose is worse/ Let's unwrite these pages and replace them with our own words

cw: Sam/Darlin, mentions of injury

“-and where did this one come from?” Sam asks, tracing a smooth finger across his Darlin’s scarred palm. They bite back a ticklish giggle, masking it as a cough, and the southern man chivalrously stifles his own chuckle as his lover speaks.

“Oh god, that one was a story,” Darlin says, flexing their hand and adjusting their legs sprawled across his lap. “Booker and I thought it’d be a good idea to play monkey in a tree and fight, cause we were twelve and stupid. I fell and had the even smarter idea to grab a branch and stop my fall instead of just landing in the leaves.”

“Oh, so you've always been like this.” His werewolf reaches up to flick at his nose, and Sam catches their hand to press a kiss and his grin against their skin.

"Afraid so. Marie can confirm; she said there were too many nerves there for her to patch up completely, but Milo thinks she left a mark on purpose as a reminder."

"Did you really need to be reminded not to tussle in trees, Darlin?" Sam asks incredulously, watching as they cackle in nostalgic delight.

"Oh no, I fought in trees plenty; I just learned to not fight Booker." The vampire groans in exasperation, hanging his head dramatically, and Darlin's laughter almost tips them off the rocking porch swing. "Alright, smart guy, your turn! What's this?" they ask, poking a mark on his nose that could be mistaken for a stray freckle if not for the faint scar passing through it. Sam's head stays low, his bronze hair blocking their view of his face and his body stiffening up slightly against theirs. Darlin is afraid for a paralyzing moment that they've asked something they shouldn’t have when he lifts his head to reveal a bashful, embarrassed grin.

“A reminder of my own,” he says, taking their finger and lifting it to his face so the werewolf can feel the little dip in the skin with their fingernail. “Remindin’ me that moonshine and needles make a terrible combination.” Darlin gasps, making Sam laugh warm and bright against their skin.

“Sam Collins-“ they ask with a start, swinging their leg around to kneel above the shaking, laughing man. Their hands try to take hold of his face, to twist it for a better view in the moonlight, only for him to throw his head back in mirth. “Samuel Collins, you secretive, geriatric motherfucker- do you have a nose piercing??”

Send me a ♪, and I’ll put my music on shuffle and write a Redacted ficlet based on the song I get 💌

[readyandnot]

I posted 88 times in 2022

That's 88 more posts than 2021!

70 posts created (80%)

18 posts reblogged (20%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@morgansplace

@friendlyfaded

@24-years-old-disaster

@kathsuhki

@themonotonysyndrome

I tagged 81 of my posts in 2022

Only 8% of my posts had no tags

#redacted asmr - 80 posts

#redacted gavin - 7 posts

#redacted audio - 6 posts

#redacted huxley - 5 posts

#readyrambles - 5 posts

#redacted damien - 5 posts

#redacted david - 5 posts

#redacted milo - 4 posts

#redacted lasko - 4 posts

#redacted asher - 4 posts

Longest Tag: 25 characters

#and i have too much power

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

samuel collins is perfection.

and a cowboy.

AND SEXY CAUSE OMG-

first off- the domestic relationship that has formed between these two is amazing. when you first see these two characters together they are seen as people who are not “fit” for that. because of both of their pasts but god they proved each other wrong and i’m so glad they did

darlin and sam’s relationship has really evolved beautifully, you see the walls coming down between the two and showing their true selves to each other, especially when they aren’t used to it. they make each other better and it’s beautiful to see

how they can go from teasing/giving each other shit to flirting and then being so sweet and sentimental. omg.

sam sounds a lot better, i love hearing about his day to day life and about skyside so that was nice :))

THE MENTIONS OF VINCENT AND LOVELY OMG

they are truly a found family. i always hc that lovely and darlin would become close before inversion and especially after. i LOVE the brotherly relationship between vincent and sam, they balance each other out and OMG THE PARALLELS WOW. “you make me ache” “it’s a gift” bruh. sam and lovely too <33 so sweet i’d love to see more interaction with these two!

sam giving thanks and praise to darlin :,)) omg they’re soulmates your honor. all the i love yous and whispers and sweet talk is so adorable.

there’s no more hbs :(( it’s over… i’m scared for july, lore wise, and i think a lot of people are as well. there’s a lot of possibilities so i guess we’ll have to see. i really wanna see an update on elliot and sunshine, they need to be safe.

NOW SPICY TIME-

literally omg SAM THE FUCKING MOANS

HIS MOANS WERE SO LOUD LIKE WHAT

the whispers literally killed me- i’m in my grave as we speak.

all the sayings he did like “fuck darlin” “oh my god almighty”

please- stop but also dont

THE BODY PRAISE OMG

the dirty talk was *chef’s kiss* hes so good at that omg

the stuff he SAYS like “every touch and curve” fuck.

he’s literally so hot, not fair.

WHILE I AM DISAPPOINTED WITH NO FEEDING HE MADE UP FOR IT FULL TIME

HIS COMPLIMENTS HIS MOANS HIS DIRTY TALK BRUH

his accent makes everything better istg, HIS GRUMBLES TOO WTF

he didn’t growl but he whispered and that ended me.

ugh in conclusion- samuel collins is hot and everyone would like to be fucked by him. that’s not up for discussion or debate.

63 notes - Posted June 29, 2022

#4

this made my night.

ELEMENTALS EARLY ACCESS LETS FUCKING GOOOOO

here’s my readyrambles :))

(spoilers under the cut)

OH MY FUCKING GOD.

I FORGOT ABOUT EA TONIGHT BUT OMG IT WAS A NEEDED SURPRISE

i’ve had two shitty days so this was definitely needed. thank you redacted. NOW- THOUGHT TIME

FIRST OF ALL- NEW ADDITION WITH THE LIGHTS AND WHOSE SPEAKING??? FUCKING BRILLIANT. IT’LL DEF HELP PEOPLE WHO ARE FIRST LISTENING TO THIS SERIES. LOVE IT.

NEXT- THUMBNAIL/TITLE/DESCRIPTION ALL AMAZING. HOIST THE COLORS WOOOO

okay okay- so, DAMS???? AS A NICKNAME??? SO FUCKING CUTE I LOVE IT- HUXLEY YOURE ADORABLE AND THANK YOU FOR THAT PET NAME

oh god he’s nervous- i would be too, it’s totally understandable.

“damien.” “i’m freaking out.” “can i hold your hand?” “yeah.” “talk me through it.” THAT JUST SPEAKS FOR ITSELF. THAT DIALOGUE ALONE.

“they are our friends, i know that. i know that they would just, just want us to be happy. i know they won’t care, i know they won’t judge us i know that. i know, i know all of those things.” DAMN RIGHT

“i don’t know why this is so scary for me, but it is.” that hits different.

DAMIEN HE KNOWS YOUR NOT ASHAMED OF THE RELATIONSHIP. YOURE NOT BROKEN DAMI.

“and anyone who has a problem with it can go fuck themselves for all i care” POP OFF

“i don’t know why it’s making me so nervous to do this.” damien you and i are the exact fucking same. BUT ITS UNDERSTANDABLE TO BE NERVOUS.

“you don’t owe anybody anything. and you don’t need some easy answers for why it makes you nervous to make that nervous feeling be valid, it is. even without an explanation. it’s okay to be scared, even though you don’t know why.” fucking hell i won’t cry i won’t cry i won’t cry-

“i want a reason. i want an explanation that i can give you because i, i don’t want you to think that i’m ashamed of us because i’m not-“ “i know damien. i know that, you don’t need a reason i know.” THERE IT IS- THERE IT FUCKING IS.

“it’s scary to open yourself up, even when you know it’s people you can trust.” TRUTH RIGHT THERE. HUXLEY ILY

IT IS ON YOUR TERMS HUXLEY YES.

“i’m here, no matter what damien. always, i’m right here.” fuck now i’m tearing up-

“i love you.” “i love you too.” AHHHHHHHHHHH GOD DAMMIT I LOVE THEIR RELATIONSHIP SO MUCH

DAMIENS SIGH OF RELIEF AFTER OMFG

“i’m gonna be scared if we wait an hour or a year, it’s just how i am” ME FUCKING TOO.

“i want to do this today. now. i already know the only thing that really matters, how we feel. and everything else is just background noise. so let’s do this.” YES DAMIENNNNN ILY

“you’re sure?” “kiss me?” GOD DAMMIT THIS IS TOO DAMN GOOD-

CUTE KISSES ENSUE- “i’m sure.” YES YES YES.

“i’ve got you.” “i know.” AND THEIR LAUGHS AFTER MY FUCKING GOD- this has already broken me in the best way possible.

THEIR BANTER ABOUT THE DRIVING LMAO I LOVE THEM-THEY FIT EACH OTHER SO WELL AND SO PERFECTLY. THEY COMPLETE EACH OTHER.

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63 notes - Posted August 13, 2022

#3

holy fuck. here we go.

SAM/DARLIN THOUGHTS:

(spoilers under the cut)

first of all- COLOR CHANGE LOVE IT

second of all- THE TITLE MY FUCKING GOD

“vampire MATE” “MAKES YOU A PROMISE” 🥺

okay lowkey disappointed we didn’t have a call with david but no big deal lmao he’s mentioned anyway

“i already know what you’re thinking darlin” NO YOU DONT…

“like hell i don’t” okay fine maybe you do-

well fuck me sam knows darlin too well, love him for that <3

“hey. look at me, please.” GOD DAMMIT ALREADY???

SAAAAAM YOURE SO SOFT FOR NO REASON

I JUST LISTENED TO HIS BA THIS WEEK AND I KNEW HE WAS SOFT BUT FUCK ITS STILL EFFECTIVE

his breath of relief when darlin looks up at him. THATS GOTTA BE ANOTHER LEVEL OF TRUST. ESPECIALLY WITH THE FACT THAT MOST PEOPLE PROB STRUGGLE WITH FOR FEAR OF TRANCING-

and darlin looks up with no hesitation. i love these two omfg

“i know. and i’m not judging you for it. i get it, i feel it too.” and there’s my first hand up to the face.

“my first thought was to run up there and end this fucker too.” HE UNDERSTANDS. OF COURSE HE DOES HES SAM FOR GODS SAKES

“darlin you know that’s not what i’m saying.” HES SO STEADY AND CALM LIKE FUCK IF HE ISNT PERFECT FOR DARLIN-

“give me a second, please” the trust these two have for one another my fucking god

“they can bring him down now there’s enough heat for them to do something about it”

sam i get it and i want to believe that, but when had the department been quick about something besides the fl and vega situation? and he still isn’t caught after the breakout, neither is regulus. if i’m wrong then i’m wrong but it’s also not where i think the story might be heading so i’m having doubts that it’s just gonna end with quinn in custody. that’s too easy.

“when i had to stand in front of them and explain what he did to my progeny”- FRED AND BRIGHT OMFG

“it’s fucked up.”

what i love more about this is that sam truly understands the frustration first hand. he knows the suffering behind waiting and nothing being done. he can truly understand darlin and help them to the best of his abilities and not bullshit them. he literally tells them his thoughts about when he first heard and what he wants to do, but he knows what’s best and to stay calm.

“for once you don’t have to do it alone. so don’t do it alone” sam, you’re gonna fucking break me.

“i’m asking you to promise me something. promise me you will let the department try to handle all this” darlin better not break this promise istg-

DAVID AND ANSEL MENTION LETS GO

SWEETHEART MENTION LETS FUCKING GO SAM KNOWS THEYRE POWERFUL AF AND GREAT AT THEIR JOB

“hey, i’m not asking for this to be one sided though. if you promise me you’ll let them try without running off on your own, then i promise you, if he keeps at it, if he keeps hurting innocent people and they still haven’t gotten him, then you and i will hunt him down. together. and we’ll take that freak to task. no half measures. no holding back. we do whatever we have to, to bring him down. can you promise me that?”

“i promise” “okay, then that’s what we’ll do”

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68 notes - Posted August 6, 2022

#2

OMFG I GUESSED IT!!!!! I DIDNT THINK IT WOULD HAPPEN HOLY SHIT LETS GOOOOOOO

OMG ITS CANON TOO HOLY SHIT

i literally said it might be a new type of audio and it is holy shit i’m an actual seer

86 notes - Posted June 14, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

HEAR YE HEAR YE

I THINK DAVIDS PLAYLIST NAME HAS CHANGED-

LOOK! SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME IM NOT CRAZY-

it literally says updated today wtf

IT USED TO BE TSUNDERE WEREWOLF RIGHT???

238 notes - Posted July 11, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[aurorialwolf]

Oki dokes folks, I made a post a bit ago about my next gen ocs, Samuel Jr. Collins-Barrera (Sam and Darlin's kid) and Adrian Getty (Alexis's son), talking about their dynamic I mentioned a bit of Adrian's backstory, and his personality, but didn't go too in-depth, so now I will with a post specifically about him! If you want to read that post after, there's a tag on this post that'll lead u to all my next-gen posts

Y'all know the drill, basic info first, then some more detailed specifics - Full name is Adrian Getty

- Full title is Adrian Getty, Duke of the House of Solaire (this is also what he would introduce himself as formally)

- His mother is Alexis Getty, his father is absent, as he was the result of a hookup, making him illegitimate, although William does not care, and still grants him his title

- He doesn't have many friends, since he is rather isolated, having been turned at a young age by his own blood (according to my hc, children of vampires can be turned when they unlock their core if they have vampiric blood from an Old Blood), so he mainly hangs around Emilia Solaire (William's daughter) and Portia Solaire (Porter's daughter), as they are in the same boat.

- He's also kind of a jerk, mainly because he doesn't know how else to act given his upbringing (cough cough Alexis)

- His favourite flavour for basically anything is lemon! He becomes partial to Samuel Jr. moreso when he gives him lemon snacks

- He can speak a bit of French as well, like Vivienne (Vincent's daughter, I made a post about her a bit ago), though he's much more fluent than her, and becomes fully fluent around 19, since I hc that the kids of the House can all speak some French since I assume William would teach them

- He has a sword that was given to him by William when he reached 16 and was out of bloodlust, at the same time as he was granted the title of Duke

- He is one of Emilia Solaire's personal guards, mainly as a formality, since she is rarely in actual danger, but it helps make the clan look proper.

- He's gay, but closeted, though he figures it out and comes out a bit later (around 18-19)

Okay now for angst stuff, mainly about his upbringing

- Since he was an accident, his mother is.. not very nice to him, and they argue regularly

- Alexis invokes him as a disciplinary measure, to keep him in check, and this affects his mental health very negatively

I feel I must clarify that I do like Alexis as a character since she has depth, but I don't think she'd be a good mother if she were to have a kid suddenly at this point in the storyline (we will see if she gets a redemption arc though)

- Part of the reason he's closeted is that he's worried Alexis will harm him further for it, although she wouldn't, but he doesn't know that and is too nervous to test the waters

- After a lot of fighting and being at each other's throats, he becomes friends with Samuel Jr, who helps him better himself, come to terms with being gay, and become nicer, leading to him getting more actual friends, specifically befriending Portia and Emilia properly, and making up with Vivienne (Vincent's daughter, who he has also been a jerk to)

- Eventually he sort of sees Sam (the dad not the son lol) as a father figure, because once Sam realizes he's a good kid, and not like his mother, he helps him, and allows him to stay with his family when he needs to, giving him a proper safe space That's about it! Lmk if you'd like to be added to my taglist for redacted posts (mainly this stuff and dreamwalker theories), and lmk if you have your own hc about Alexis as a mom, since I know she's interpreted differently by a lot of folks Taglist: @vegafan69 @darlin-collins @kxemii @professionallyyappin @sereh624