Here it is, the last one and the one you’ve all been waiting for…
It was the dead of night. You had no idea how you got to the moment of agreeing to meet Vladimir. Yet you were there. You leaned against the brick wall of the tunnel. It was quite secluded, the cars on the other side of the same wall. It was only an advantage seeing that you were there at night. You were hidden from view from passers by.
You noticed quickly you weren’t alone. A dark silhouette approaching you. However when it got closer, you became aware of who it was. Vladimir didn’t even so much as blink as he approached but he did have a smirk. The one you had seen him smile the first time you met. “Vladimir…” You trailed off softly, uncertain of what you’d have said. He said nothing in return.
By the time he was a few feet away from you, he was slowly closing the distance between you both. His hand reached up, stroking your cheek almost lovingly. He leaned in as though about to kiss you but moved his head to the side upon the last moment, brushing your nose his his own. Lightly, he took your wrist into his hand before stepping back, creating a small amount of distance once more but tugging you to follow him. You did. Unsure just what that decision would lead to.
As you got to the forest line, Vladimir carried you. No longer moving at human pace. He took you to an old looking mansion, setting you down gently. It was a miracle it was in such impeccable condition and you wondered how it hadn’t been damaged by vandalism or some other man made destruction. Didn’t time wash away everything? Then again, your mind reminded you this was the Romanians, there would be no doubt it was privately owned. Any trespassers…well, for their sake should have hoped the two would never be home whilst they were there. “All of this for two people?” You said quietly and Vladimir smirked at you, a hum of amusement escaping his tight smile as he passed you to open the door.
When you crossed the threshold you couldn’t help but look around in awe. Everything was framed with wood that looked more expensive than you could ever dream to afford, the floors and banisters of the stairs had been polished too. There were large paintings on the walls. They were definitely old, given the subjects. One in particular caught your eye.
You moved closer and Vladimir only seemed to watch you. You peered closer. “This is really good.” You said quietly, tempted to touch it but holding yourself back. “The Twelve Leaders of the Romanian coven.” Vladimir said fondly, breaking his gaze from you to the painting, standing by your side in moments. “Weren’t you and Stefan two of them?” You asked. “Yes. Do you know where we are?” Vladimir asked in amusement, seemingly already knowing your answer. You focused hard.
"Is that you?“ You pointed to the first in the bottom row of four. “No.” He smiled. “That would be Cyrus and I assure you, my hair has never looked like the end of a mop.” Vladimir had a point, his hair was more platinum blonde whilst ‘Cyrus’ hair looked to be more of a dirty blonde. “I don’t see anyone with your hair.” You smiled bashfully, leaning closer to the painting. “Wait, is that you? Middle row, second to the left?” “Indeed it is.” Vladimir smiled. “That’s cheating, your hair is covered by that hood! It’s not even the same style!” You exclaimed and he chuckled. “You’ve got one more.” He was right. You still had Stefan to find.
“Is that him?” “Perhaps I should be offended that you found him so easily.” Vladimir smirked, leaning against the wall. Your jaw dropped. “You’re joking…that was a complete guess! He looks nothing like himself now.” “It’s just how paintings are darling, they always look a little different to the real thing. The art style.” He finished. “Although our hair is very different. I will give you that.” "This painting has to be at least a thousands years old…“ You began quietly. "How have you kept in such good condition after everything?"
Vladimir smiled slightly, turning his full attention to you, the painting forgotten. His eyes ran over your face, lingering on your lips. Gently, he reached out and lightly stroked your cheek. "There is no secret, darling. We take care of what’s important to us.” He said quietly, almost sweetly. A whole other side to Vladimir you hadn’t seen before. “Might I take your coat?” He asked lightly with a small smile. You shook yourself slightly out of your trance. Immediately moving to remove your jacket. He helped you, taking it from you assuring you he’d only be a moment.
You looked over the rest of the paintings. There was no doubt, the Romanians had been around for a very long time. It made you wonder why Vladimir was so interested in you. You were nothing special.
In the aftermath of Eve’s death, Adam is left rudderless. He had only led one kind of life for the past 600 years. What was he supposed to do now? When he tries haunting one of his usual spots for an anchor, he finds Lilith.
(A sort of epilogue after “Only Lovers Left Alive,” but can also be read as, “Adam Finally Gets Therapy.”)
chapter 1: last words of a shooting star
They’ll never know how I stared in the dark in that room, with no thoughts, like a blood-sniffing shark. And while my dreams make music in the night, carefully—I was going to live.
—
Adam sat alone at a table nearest the door of the last place he’d been with Eve before it all went south. Before, being the operative word, as he maintained it had gone south the minute Eve’s little sister Ava had arrived in Detroit. Though, he had no one to argue with about that at the moment. Ian was long dead and Ava was most likely sucking some other poor starry-eyed bastard dry, on someone else’s vintage sofa. He almost chuckled to himself imagining some 20-something zombies losing their precious little minds over what to do with the body, probably having no secret acid pits to dump it and no foresight to have worn gloves. He bittersweetly took a swig from the flask he kept hidden in his jacket pocket. Regrettably, the good stuff was locked in a safe at home and the only other type he had was A-positive. A little challenging to his palette, admittedly, but not too terrible. It reminded him of a delicately aged pinot noir, with less fruity undertones and more of a floral, earthy flavor. Definitely not his favorite, but again, not terrible. He was slowly slumping over the table and further into his depression as another dismal amateur took the stage in the club’s open-mic night. Though, this bird was interesting. She shrugged a violin case off her shoulder and timidly took the stage behind the microphone. For some reason, more patrons accumulated and tried to fight each other to crowd the stage. A bouncer had to push the crowd back, giving the young woman on stage a bit of relief.
i have a sort of funny jack headcanon do u want it
okay so like. in my mind jack ends up in a career other than artist but is still selling art on the side like idk what the nyc equivalent would be but around where i live there’s a bunch of little country stores or small restaurants that display local artwork and sell it for the artists and Jack would have that kind of thing going on. he doesn’t sell a super significant amount but it’s art he’s proud of and he gets to know that it’s going to somebody who actually likes it and isn’t just collecting “up and coming” artists like pokemon cards. so he’s selling paintings for like. 200-900 bucks depending on the size, subject, how much he likes it, that kind of things. it’s like getting a bonus check when a painting sells, like he and davey will go on a fancier date than usual or buy something not strictly necessary for the apartment or whatever. usually when jack comes home having sold something, lets say he works at jacobi’s and has art there too, he’s all cheerful and spouting silly grandiose plans for the surprise five hundred bucks they have to burn so when he gets home one day and is like “hey uh. i sold a painting today.” and he’s acting all weird about it davey is like “what’s wrong isn’t that a good thing?”
and jack is like “yeah for sure. it’s great. the guy asked how much i wanted for one that didn’t have a price on it and i said seven hundred.”
and davey is like “that’s great! we can go on a date and add to the dishwasher fund!” and then jack holds out the check and it’s almost a million dollars and he’s like “i tried to tell the guy there’s no thousand after the seven hundred and he just took the painting and left” and that’s the story of jack’s big artistic break.
Harry’s relationship with faith is - as we see in the series - complicated. However, I always remember that when needing to fend off the vampires in book 1, he used his mother’s necklace. Not for any religious meaning, but because it was his mother’s.
His faith was in a symbol of his family.
So I like to think that the closest Harry gets to praying is when he’s shaving.
Standing in the bathroom, in front of the mirror - probably once a week because he can’t muster up the energy to do it every day - and remembering seeing his dad doing it on the road when he was a kid. Remembering Ebenezer teaching him how to, with a hand razor because electric ones would break on them.
He remembers the people in his life that left an effect on him, that were there for him and taught him how to live, and works to keep himself healthy and functional from day to day in their honor.
THESE MINEFIELDS • LMH•villain au; somewhere between angst and fluff; mention of injury, blood, and death; 815 words; for @meanhly♡
Your dress was white and stark against the ruination around you. The flowers Minho had carefully wound into your hair every day smiled, whispering shy welcome against his skin as he rested his forehead against yours. Like a man folded into deep prayer, and you were his hallowed temple. He clutched your cold, clasped hands in his bloodied grip and hoped, with all the remains of his tattered soul.
A Pleasant SurprisebyWanderingTiff Rated Explicit Fandom: Voltron - Legendary Defender Pairing:Shance Event:@vldexchange Shiro Birthday Exchange For@hedonistink No Archive Warnings Summary: Sometimes, birthdays just suck. But that doesn’t mean it can’t get better later on in the day. Shiro has a surprise party, as well as an even bigger surprise waiting for him in the bedroom after the guests leave. Tags: Trans Shiro, Surprise Party, NSFW, Strap-Ons, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Overstim
THIS IS SO GOOD I’M SCREAMING. Thank you, this honestly made my day. Your writing is such a treat always and this piece is so good and trans Shiro and a trans guy topping and ahhhhh this fic is everything. Thank you.
I have so much to say about this omg. First of all, this is an amazing AU and I’m LIVING for it! The chain as Mafia members is massive galaxy brain- especially when they’re running the show and a good portion of underworld. Though, if they keep this up I’d imagine they’d end up ruling it as some point or another. Either way, it’s very on brand for the Yandere Chain, motives and all.
Now, listen, I have questions. You’ve mentioned the Biggoron sword, The Master Sword and Fi, and the initial Idea Post™️: with Times Ocarina (and isn’t that a terrifying thing-) and the boys with their “strange items.” So, I’m asking is: do they have all their items? Like Wild and his Sheikah slate (does that even work?) and Legend with his arsenal. How well does everyone’s magic work? Can Legend turn into Wolfie? Hyrule heal? There was the insinuation that there is some magic with the Master Sword, Fi, etc but ???? Are these questions that will, hopefully (and by the gods to I hope), will be answered as you go??
I’minvested.
But, for this piece can I say I’m?? In love?? Meeting Time first was a solid move on everyone’s part. He’s the Boss, after all but I got a laugh and highkey suspicious at the “so please, relax” because the first thing I thought of was “said the devil” as soon as I read it. He was so polite and kind, but I knew damn well what this man was doing. You don’t get into the position he’s in without some manipulation. Wouldn’t be surprised if now he’s got people watching our girl.
And then for everyone else?? *chefs kiss* the scenes with Legend, Wind, Wild and Twilight were amazing. The first three are literally unloading a body and arguing while Twilight mentions he’s got on in pieces in his trunk. The casual cruelty is astonishing, truly. Phenomenal. Drives in the point that, yes, they’re in another world, but their methods are still very much the same. Then there’s Wars with his own soldiers, Hyrule and Four essentially shutting down, and Sky trying to be logical and eventually going to sleep? Amazing.
I also really loved the fact that there’s… branches. Each Chain member has their own thing (I’m also interested in that topic. Gliphy please I gotta know-), but Time is the Boss. Much like the original dynamics because he was the oldest and the one willing to take the reins.
Speaking of that, people are now talking. The maids, the soldiers, anyone who saw them and know of the Text know that something big happened. I wonder how that’s gonna go down.
Gliphy, please this is amazing. I don’t have words right now my brain is big stupid but ugh your writing jajansiwbhew
An interesting result of the Jon & Catelyn tension is the way that, once out of Winterfell, Jon confronts her influence on him. It would be wrong to say he didn’t internalize any part of her, because he did: he got the hardest parts of her, so naturally she shows up in the most flawed parts of him. The parts of him he’s forced to face in AGOT.
Many asoiaf characters re-enact their own trauma/abuse/humiliation (Theon with Beth Cassel, Cersei with Taena, Arya with Raff the Sweetling) and Jon is no different.
As he watched his uncle lead his horse into the tunnel, Jon had remembered the things that Tyrion Lannister told him on the kingsroad, and in his mind’s eye he saw Ben Stark lying dead, his blood red on the snow. The thought made him sick. What was he becoming? Afterward he sought out Ghost in the loneliness of his cell, and buried his face in his thick white fur.
-AGOT, Jon III
Anyway, there are similarities btwn AGOT Jon and Catelyn turning their negative emotions out on others [first two quotes regarding their brothers, the last two when they feel hurt & lash out to make the hurt mutual]:
Jon noticed the shy looks [Myrcella] gave Robb as they passed between the tables and the timid way she smiled at him. He decided she was insipid. Robb didn’t even have the sense to realize how stupid she was; he was grinning like a fool.
-AGOT, Jon I
“Cersei Lannister is comely,” she said sharply. “You’d be wiser to pray that Roslin is strong and healthy, with a good head and a loyal heart.” And with that she left them.
Edmure did not take that well. The next day he avoided her entirely on the march, preferring the company of Marq Piper, Lymond Goodbrook, Patrek Mallister, and the young Vances. They do not scold him, except in jest, Catelyn told herself when they raced by her that afternoon with nary a word. I have always been too hard with Edmure, and now grief sharpens my every word. She regretted her rebuke. There was rain enough falling from the sky without her making more. And was it really such a terrible thing, to want a pretty wife?
-ASOS, Catelyn V
Jon Snow stroked Ghost’s thick white fur, smiling now. “Ask me nicely.”
Tyrion Lannister felt the anger coiling inside him, and crushed it out with a will. It was not the first time in his life he had been humiliated, and it would not be the last. Perhaps he even deserved this. “I should be very grateful for your kind assistance, Jon,” he said mildly.
-AGOT, Tyrion II
“No more than Theon Greyjoy would harm Bran or Rickon?”
Grey Wind leapt up atop King Tristifer’s crypt, his teeth bared. Robb’s own face was cold. “That is as cruel as it is unfair. Jon is no Theon.”
-ASOS, Catelyn V
However, these sort of kneejerk responses don’t become a habit for Jon. There is a learning curve, but when Jon’s behavior is pointed out to him (you’re a bastard and a bully) he makes different choices. Jon and Tyrion form a friendship. When his anger flares at not being named ranger, Sam makes him realize the folly of his own pride. Later on with Gilly, Jon gets upset at the unfairness of the situation but forces himself to accept a resolution he personally does not like.
This is dissimilar to Catelyn, as seen through her feelings towards Jon: Catelyn accepts that bastards exist, recognizes them in Ned/Edmure/Robert’s case, however the Stark way of raising bastards in the home isn’t something she can stomach. Catelyn finds Jon’s presence likely as unjust as Jon finds his fellow Night’s Watch recruits at first. Who bears the brunt of these dissatisfactions? In Catelyn’s case it’s Jon til the end; in Jon’s case it’s Grenn and Pyp and Halder, until he confronts his own privilege and befriends them instead.
Contrast how Jon opens himself to the wildlings, eventually coming to compromises with them, to how Catelyn approaches Tyrion during their time at the Eyrie. These are both situations in which Catelyn and Jon face their supposed enemies, even gain some respect and trust for them, but where Jon learns to be malleable, Catelyn purposely fortifies herself against that.
She believes she has to, in order to be strong.
She woke aching and alone and weary; weary of riding, weary of hurting, weary of duty. I want to weep, she thought. I want to be comforted. I’m so tired of being strong. I want to be foolish and frightened for once.
-ACOK, Catelyn II
And this is the tragedy of Catelyn, in my view. She is sosmart. She is deft, patient, loyal, moral. Catelyn’s worldview serves her well except that she can’t see past it - in part because she doesn’t allow herself to. At various points, she does express empathy and understanding, but it doesn’t ever mark a true deviation from her original beliefs (family, duty, honor).
“Does Cersei pray to you too, my lady?” Catelyn asked the Mother. She could see the proud, cold, lovely features of the Lannister queen etched upon the wall. The crack was still there; even Cersei could weep for her children.
-ACOK, Catelyn IV
“And who would keep you safe, my lady?”
Her smile was wan and tired. “Why, the men of my House. Or so my lady mother taught me. My lord father, my brother, my uncle, my husband, they will keep me safe… but while they are away from me, I suppose you must fill their place, Brienne.”
-ACOK, Catelyn VI
The next day, as she broke her fast, Catelyn asked for quill and paper and began a letter to her sister in the Vale of Arryn. She told Lysa of Bran and Rickon, struggling with the words, but mostly she wrote of their father. His thoughts are all of the wrong he did you, now that his time grows short. Maester Vyman says he dare not make the milk of the poppy any stronger. It is time for Father to lay down his sword and shield. It is time for him to rest. Yet he fights on grimly, will not yield. It is for your sake, I think. He needs your forgiveness. The war has made the road from the Eyrie to Riverrun dangerous to travel, I know, but surely a strong force of knights could see you safely through the Mountains of the Moon? A hundred men, or a thousand? And if you cannot come, will you not write him at least? A few words of love, so he might die in peace? Write what you will, and I shall read it to him, and ease his way.
-ASOS, Catelyn I
Last one is important because Catelyn has pieced together the abortion Hoster forced on Lysa, is deeply sympathetic, but what she expresses in words is concern for Hoster’s relationship with Lysa that suffered as a result. Not for Lysa who lost a wanted child and wept buckets on her wedding day. Catelyn’s letter, regardless of goodwill, guilts Lysa - it’s phrased with compassion for the father they share but it isn’t an affirmation of Lysa’s pain, instead centering Hoster. That’s part of a tendency, part of how she understands Cersei through the lens of motherhood, Brienne through the lens of temporary necessity. Sorting them back into place. Lysa as the benevolent daughter.
Compare these two scenarios where Jon and Catelyn are asked to confront their past biases:
Small wonder that the Seven Kingdoms thought the free folk scarcely human. They have no laws, no honor, not even simple decency. They steal endlessly from each other, breed like beasts, prefer rape to marriage
-ASOS, Jon II
“That Longspear stole me daughter. Munda, me little autumn apple.[”] […]
Jon had to laugh. Even now, even here. Ygritte had been fond of Longspear Ryk. He hoped he found some joy with Tormund's Munda. Someone needed to find some joy somewhere.
-ASOS, Jon X
“Mya Stone, if it please you, my lady,” the girl said.
It did not please her; it was an effort for Catelyn to keep the smile on her face. Stone was a bastard’s name in the Vale, as Snow was in the north, and Flowers in Highgarden; in each of the Seven Kingdoms, custom had fashioned a surname for children born with no names of their own. Catelyn had nothing against this girl, but suddenly she could not help but think of Ned’s bastard on the Wall, and the thought made her angry and guilty, both at once.
-AGOT, Catelyn VI
Angry and guilty. A combination Jon feels in one of his lowest moments as well, when he’s ashamed of how he reacted to being (fairly!) rejected and dismissed.
Jon remembered the wish he’d wished in his anger, the vision of Benjen Stark dead in the snow, and he looked away quickly. The dwarf had a way of sensing things, and Jon did not want him to see the guilt in his eyes.
-AGOT, Jon III
It’s fair to find these sort of parallels unsavory, but people are products of their environments, of the times they were loved and the times they were spurned. In Jon’s case we can’t really understand how anti-bastard sentiment affects him without looking at the human element of it, which necessitates discussing Catelyn in specific.
The chip on Jon’s shoulder didn’t magically disappear; it had to crumble slowly, bit by bit (and even then not entirely). In AGOT-ASOS Jon experimented with & rejected exclusionary ideals in exchange for a more expansive worldview that he could never quite have in Winterfell. Good for him, and a logical culmination of his emotional journey.
